Chapter Fourteen Davix
I ignore the chattering of the soldiers as we move through the hallways – two of them preceding us and two trailing behind us.
The hallways, like most of the spaces we have seen, are composed of smooth walls and floors.
The air is usually almost bitter with chemicals, but as we round a corner and another door slides open, the air begins to change.
There is still the undercurrent of chemicals, but now there are organic scents as well.
I open my mouth and curl my upper lip to draw in the scents.
There are so many that it is almost overwhelming.
But then, one scent cuts through the rest – the female Corrina.
For a moment, I am startled that her scent has become so familiar to me, but I dismiss the thought quickly as I see what lies ahead.
We emerge into a large, open chamber. A group of humans runs in a pack along the far wall, while others manipulate various contraptions.
On mats scattered around the center of the room, figures come together with punches and kicks or wrestle each other to the ground.
A silence falls over the room as individuals see us.
Some point and murmur while others just stare.
Some of the runners stumble into each other as their companions stop.
“I don’t recall giving anybody permission to stand around,” one of the figures on the mats yells loudly.
He looks up from where his partner is pinned beneath him and his eyes meet mine.
“I see,” he says. He leaps to his feet and comes striding over.
“Just on a tour, Kendrick?” Curran says to the female who was most excited to bring us here.
“They asked if there was a place they could fight and run,” she replies uneasily.
“There certainly is,” Curran says, glancing up and down at the three of us. “Well, are you going to stand around or are you going to get some exercise?” he asks.
I give him a feral grin and then break into a sprint.
Individuals move out of my way as I run, as if I would be clumsy enough to run into them.
I vault over one of the strange contraptions and launch myself at a wall, bouncing off it before regaining my feet.
Behind me, I hear the joyful cries of my brood brothers as they begin to run.
“Still didn’t give you permission to stand around,” Curran yells, and activity slowly resumes around the room.
I trot beside the pack of runners for a moment before weaving back through the individuals on the mats to stand next to Curran.
He chuckles and nods at me before heading back to his mat.
It is then that I notice that his partner is Corrina.
Like most of the other humans here, Corrina is wearing far fewer coverings than usual, but her round shape looks different somehow from the others.
She nods at Curran as he takes up a position opposite her, and then they come together violently.
She is human slow, of course, but she and Curran seem to be evenly matched.
Her hands are wrapped in white cloth that must be to protect her fragile, golden brown skin.
As if in testament to the vulnerability of humans, I notice a large scar that runs diagonally down one of her shoulders before disappearing beneath the straps of a black top.
My hand instinctively goes to the jagged scar across my neck before I shake my head and drop my head irritably.
While I was distracted by her scar, Corrina pinned Curran beneath her.
His face is angry as he struggles to free himself, until finally he slaps the mat with his free hand.
Both he and Corrina are breathing heavily when they separate.
“You can use the mat if you want,” Corrina says, picking up a towel and wiping the moisture from her face and chest. I turn to see Zann standing beside me with a grin.
Without another word, he stalks to the mat and assumes a fighting stance.
“Try not to destroy my training facility,” Corrina calls.
She drops cross-legged to a nearby mat and watches as Zann and I face off against each other.
Zann dodges easily as I lash out with my right hands but is unprepared when Krish leaps onto his back.
Zann pulls him off and throws him at me, but I leap over our brood brother and catch Zann in the chest with my claws.
He hisses at me and spins, landing a kick to my midsection.
This time Krish comes for me, grabbing my tail and yanking me backwards and off balance.
I regain my footing quickly and then all three of us are a tangle of fists and feet.
We are all slick with blood and sweat when Zann finally calls for us to stop.
Our new clothes are mostly shredded, but they can give us new ones or we can be bare.
It does not matter to me. I collapse on the mat, pleased and satisfied.
I am still relatively weak from our capture and torture, but it is good to move and test my strength once more.
I glance towards Corrina and Curran who stare at us wide-eyed.
I realize that movement has once again stopped in the room, though Curran is not yelling about it this time.
I see individuals, including the soldiers who escorted us here, exchanging tokens and handshakes. “That is an interesting fighting style,” Corrina finally says. Her voice sounds hoarser than usual, but perhaps she has also been yelling at soldiers the way Curran often does.
“It is not a style,” Zann says, licking a line of blood off his arm. “It is survival.”
“It’s fucking hot,” Curran mutters.
“Seriously?” Corrina says, narrowing her eyes at Curran.
“It does not seem warmer to me here than elsewhere in the station,” Zann says, “though it is hard to tell when we are exerting ourselves.” He peers at Curran curiously. “You find it warm?”
“Trust me,” Curran chuckles. “It’s hot in here.” He stands up and then glances down at Corrina. “Wouldn't you agree, Commander?”
“I'm going to shower and then I've got work to do,” Corrina replies, standing abruptly. Her scent seems slightly different, and her cheeks are darkened when she brings her eyes to mine. “Are you willing to do your interview in,” she glances at her wrist device, “twenty minutes or so?”
It gives me a small bit of satisfaction that she addresses me directly.
There have been many, including some of my own kind, who assume that my inability to speak somehow affects my ability to understand others.
Before I can respond, however, she glances at her wrist device again.
She frowns, and her scent instantly sours.
“Better make that an hour,” Corrina tells me, and I nod in response.
“And Zann, you’re willing to translate?” Corrina asks, glancing at him and then quickly away.
“I will translate for Davix,” he replies, ripping the remnants of his shirt from his body and wiping away the sweat and blood absently.
Then she glances at Curran. “I need to see you in my office,” she tells him.
“I’ll be there in a bit.”
“Now,” she says softly. There is no anger in her voice, only quiet command. Curran’s posture shifts immediately, his shoulders straightening and his body tensing.
“I’m with you,” he says simply.
Corrina nods again, and then she turns to walk away. My eyes are drawn once more to the large scar across her back. I wonder idly how she got it before shaking my head and following the guards back to our quarters to wash.