Elara’s left hand had gone numb from clutching her mana pistol, but that didn’t matter, because the chamber was already full of Bulkies, and none of them looked like they wanted to talk about their feelings.

  The first one out in front—a bipedal bruiser with a chrome-plated face mask and a paunch that could have passed for pregnancy among the species that did that sort of thing—raised a flechette shotgun and screamed something between “you're dead" and “bonus time.” Elara didn’t wait for the rest.

  She shot him twice in the chest. Mana rounds hissed through the air, sultry blue, and the guy’s armor sucked them up like a sponge before the third shot punched a hole clean through. He dropped, twitching, and the corridor dissolved into chaos.

  Karn was already moving. He went low and fast, a freight train in a three-piece suit, and hit the first Bulkie hard enough that the guy’s feet left the floor. The sound was meaty, wet, final. Two more rushed in from the side, swinging chain-blades, and Karn took a step back, firing his twin revolvers.

  The guns roared, each shot a miniature thunderclap, and the second Bulkie’s arm disintegrated at the elbow. The third got a chest full of Karn’s hoof and hit the wall with a wet crunch.

  Elara ducked, rolled, came up behind a stack of old server racks. She caught a glimpse of movement in the reflection of a broken monitor—someone trying to flank her—and fired a wild shot. The mana round blew a chunk out of the wall, but the flanker ducked back, cursing.

  She grinned, wiped blood from her lip, and waited for the next move.

  It came fast. Two Bulkies, this time, one with a mono-filament garrote, the other with a riot shield and a stun baton. Maybe I can keep one alive for questions, Elara thought. She holstered her pistol, flexed her right hand, and felt the ghostly tingle of her perception gate opening. She cast what she called Perfect Clarity, letting her analyze her enemies’ movements in seconds.

  She sidestepped the garrote, caught the guy’s wrist, and twisted until she heard the pop. He screamed, dropped the weapon into her waiting hand, and she used his body as a shield against the second guy’s charge. Riot shield crushed garrote guy between them, and he went down.

  It was still hard enough to knock her to ground, though, and she hit hard. Then, Riot shield dropped it to be able to swing the baton better. She kicked back, drove her boot into his groin, and kipped up. While he was bent over, she put an elbow to his head, knocking him out cold.

  Garrote guy grabbed her from behind and she jumped up and flipped back over his head, with the palmed monofilament looped around his neck on the way down.

  “Sorry,” she said, not sorry at all, and yanked.

  The body spasmed, then went still.

  She got to her feet, breathing hard, and saw Karn finishing off the last of the Bulkies. The minotaur looked like he’d taken a few hits, but none of them had made it past his enchanted suit or hide. He glanced at her, adjusted his cufflinks, and gave a little nod.

  “Show-off,” she muttered.

  “Efficiency,” he replied, digging out speed loaders from an inside pocket.

  They moved forward, stepping over the bodies. The chamber was quiet now, except for the low hum of the containment field.

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  Elara wiped sweat from her brow, smearing blood in the process, and tried to remember why she’d ever signed up for this shit.

  On the dais, behind a curtain of crackling blue energy, the monster they'd been searching all this time for waited.

  The thing inside paced, every movement a little too fluid for something that looked so solid. In its base form it resembled a hairless quadruped with the skin of a drowned rat and eyes that seemed to blink in and out of the visible spectrum, but every few minutes or so, ir would collapse into a black goo, then reform. The limbs would lengthen, and the thing would stand bipedal, arms dangling like a marionette.

  Elara holstered her pistol and stepped up to the control panel. “Containment integrity’s at twelve percent. Manual override?”

  Karn nodded. “Do it.”

  She keyed in the command. The field fizzled, then died. The hybrid took one cautious step into the open, then another. Elara could smell it now: wet dog, and something sharp, like copper and old fear.

  “Stop,” she pointed her pistol at the anomaly, keeping her voice level. “If you try to eat us, I’ll make you regret it.”

  The thing cocked its head, then slowly shifted shape. Its skin darkened, horns sprouted from its skull, and a moment later Elara was staring at a perfect copy of herself, Karn’s horns and lacquered-black hide grafted on like some kind of cosmic joke.

  It spoke, voice uncertain, vowels chewed on and spat out. “Not… eating. Want… out.”

  Elara raised an eyebrow. “You’re surrendering?”

  “Not… want. Made to. Now… not.”

  Karn stepped forward, keeping his hands visible. “You got a name?”

  “X…three…sev…en,” it said, and then, “I… safe?”

  Elara locked locked eyes. “You know what that means?”

  The creature nodded or tried to. The movement was off, like it was still learning how to use a neck. “Means… not die... …want live…”

  “It’s more complicated than that,” Elara crossed her arms. “What do you think?” She asked Karn. “It makes sense. Wouldn't be the first innocent thing SoulCorp ruined.”

  “Are you really entertaining even listening to this thing?” the minotaur asked.

  “No. Yes. Maybe.”

  “How many times have they tried to kill you this past year?”

  “Just about once a quarter. To be fair, I did break in around the same amount. Of course, I was just deleting my DNA and data and mana signatures.”

  Karn stood there. Deep in thought.

  “Yeah,” said Karn. “We can do that.”

  Elara laughed, “Really?”

  He holstered his revolvers, then tore off the SoulCorp insignia from his lapel and dropped it on the ground. “This thing doesn't leave a trace when it eats things right? Only piles of scrap it doesn't like? Fuck this place. Fuck the contract. We disappear, all three of us. Find a new system and start over. Hell, we could visit the clan. Naked, humans think we all look the same. As long as this thing never shows up as a homicidal blob anywhere, I doubt they could find it. After a few years of no trace, it should be good enough to keep SoulCorp from coming after us. You've basically been dead to them for years and I've refused a partner with the lowest number of closed cases. The board would barely notice if I vanished.”

  Elara stared. Karn had always been a lifer—company man, through and through. But there was something in his face now that she’d never seen before: a kind of reckless joy, the freedom of someone who’s just realized the cage door was unlocked the whole time.

  She considered it. SoulCorp had been trying to kill her for a couple years. She’d been running on fumes, loyalty long since spent. Maybe it was time to start again.

  A buzz from her wrist shook her out of thought. It was a message from Karn, standing right next to her.

  You think it's a coincidence they sent us? Their most disgraced agents? They have to tie up loose ends if they're going to deny that thing ever existed. We're a loose end.

  In that moment, she connected the dots. How long had Karn been waiting for a way to vanish? And he had a point. Why am I fighting for SoulCorp to forgive and forget? He's right. It would be easier for them to just make us disappear.

  She looked at her partner, nodded once, and holstered her weapons.

  Karn clapped Elara on the shoulder, nearly dislocating it.

  “All we need now is a ship and a captain crazy enough to take on some trouble.”

  Elara looked at the carnage behind them, the monster that never asked to be made, and the infinite expanse of space in the cracked vidcreen on the wall, partially mimicking a window.

  “Shouldn’t be too hard,” she said, and together they walked out, into whatever came next.