“In my time as Ambassador to the Aligned Planets and later in the Senate of the Aligned Systems, I learned one thing.

  It only seems we Shraphen care more about human casualties than humans do, but kill the wrong one, and they absolutely will fuck you up.”

  Senator Karrn 35P.I.

  Karrn still read through his messages. Most were sent by his wife, Rosha—video messages from her and the pups. Well, Flukk, their eldest daughter, was already three, far from being a pup anymore. Seeing the messages hurt Karrn more than he expected. He had missed so much…

  Rosha was now a community leader in the little town that the Shraphen had built in an area called Denmark. The landscape was amazing. He couldn’t wait to run with his children across the open plains and fields.

  Since most Shraphen refugees were settled there for the time being, EarthGov had built the Shraphen Embassy in the largest city there, Kopenhagen.

  He looked up the city in the ship’s database and was amazed. Maybe the post as ambassador wasn’t that bad after all.

  A message from Frox caught his eye. He hadn’t heard from the young hunter for half a year. Karrn decided to prepare himself a drink, the humans called hot cocoa, and watch the video message on the big screen in his living room.

  He had learned to enjoy the sweet and slightly bitter drink, even if humans first told him to be careful, since cacao could be harmful to Shraphen. It wasn’t, but it had a slight hallucinogenic effect that Karrn enjoyed very much.

  Curling up on the criminally comfortable couch, he started the playback.

  On screen, the hunter-turned-scholar appeared. Karrn’s first thought was that Frox looked tired.

  “Hello, Pack Leader. I heard you will be arriving soon, so I sent this message now. Please forgive me, but we have urgent matters to discuss. To put it briefly, humans are far more connected with shraphen than we thought. And someone or something has influenced human development for a long time…”

  Before Karrn could fully comprehend what Frox had said, an alarm rang on the ship. For a moment, the power went out, and then it came back on.

  From the hallway, he heard screaming, and three shots rang out.

  Karrn jumped off the couch and grabbed his tunic and weapons belt. From outside his door, he heard more shots and more screaming.

  The lights went out again, only to come back seconds later.

  Karrn’s fur bristled, his tail raised high. He opened his door and entered the hallway.

  The iron-heavy smell of human blood alarmed him, and he followed the scent.

  Ahead on the floor lay three bodies; he recognized them from their scent: Captain Gerber, Healer Nesbitt, and Lieutenant Davies.

  Gerber’s and Nesbitt’s heads were pierced by a large-caliber gun, as was Lieutenant Davies’ chest. Farther down the hallway, he saw two armored people enter the space between the hulls, known by the crew as the Catacombs.

  “Lyra, Lyra, can you hear me?” He couldn’t reach the always-present ship’s VI.

  Gerber was probably dead, as were the Healer and Davies. His heart pounded. Then he went on all fours and pursued the armored figures. They carried the scent of human gunpowder, so they had shot his comrades and friends. He’d kill them.

  Reaching the closed bulkhead to the Catacombs, he pressed the open button, his gun prepared to shoot them. When the door opened, a steady stream of air was sucked out—a clear sign of a hull breach.

  Karrn didn’t need to look far. On the opposite side of the door, he saw a hole into open space.

  A growl of hate and frustration left his throat as he closed the door again and ran back to his friends, who lay in a pool of blood on the floor. Two other officers were already there, and a medic had just come out of his quarters.

  The whole scene was surreal for Karrn. Just three hours had passed since he had dinner with Captain Gerber, and now…

  He made a decision. He needed to reach the CIC. Ignoring all cultural taboos, he went back to a four-legged run and sprinted toward the control center. Something must have brought the assassins here, and that something was now fleeing with them. So he still had prey to pursue.

  The door to the CIC opened just as Airman Simmons was about to step out of the control room. He made a hasty step backward, leaving the door open for Karrn, who was now in a full-speed run. Karrn almost didn’t notice the airman’s shocked face.

  In the CIC, he nearly jumped onto the engineering station where Ferguson sat. “I can’t reach Lyra. Davies, Gerber, and Nesbitt are shot in front of Gerber’s quarters. And someone cut a hole in the ship.”

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  The CIC went silent. Everyone stared at the panting Shraphen.

  “We know about Lyra. Someone deactivated the whole ship’s internal and external systems.” Ferguson was clearly shocked by the shooting but concentrated on his tasks.

  “How was that possible? It seems a ship had docked at the hull and cut its way in. How did no one detect this?” Karrn almost screamed.

  Captain Carmichel entered the CIC from the bridge, “Ferguson, Lyra is down, and we don’t have internal communication and sensors. What’s happening?”

  “On it, sir, restarting computer core… Now”

  The Ship went dark, for agonizingly long seconds, nothing happened, then the screens began to flicker. Karrn almost cheered when some showed again the outside of the ship.”

  At the comms station, the officer was overwhelmed with reports from inside the ship, including the shooting.

  Admiral Browner entered the CIC, fixing the belt around his uniform blouse. “Report!”

  Captain Carmichel began speaking. “At 0215, the external sensors and internal communication were interrupted. From what we could determine, a stealth breaching pod cut its way through the hull, and an unknown number of hostiles entered the ship.”

  The Admiral’s Jaw tightened, and his right hand touched the gun on his belt.

  Carmichel scrolled through the report while Karrn spoke up. “Two. I saw two people in black armor suits enter the Catacombs. Those suits were different from your Marines’ suits—sleeker, more dangerous-looking. They killed Gerber, Nesbitt, and Davies.”

  The Admiral’s eyes opened widely. Carmichel had new information. “Captain Gerber and Doctor Nesbitt are confirmed dead. Lieutenant Davies has a perforated lung and heavy internal bleeding but will survive.”

  “I want security to search all of the ship, use the marines to scan every screw on this ship. Ferguson, bring googly eyes into the catacombs. I want to know what the boarders did and if they have left something.”

  Browner seemed personally insulted by the boarding. Karrn understood this; he had just lost two of his new friends, and he won't stop until he kills the guilty party.

  “Sir, sensors are up. Lyra is coming back online. We’re detecting a trail of ionized xenon; it seems to be left by the boarding pod’s engines,” Ferguson reported. His head was red, and his scent was one of suppressed anger.

  Karrn noticed that most officers in the CIC were shocked by the attack in a place they had assumed was safe. But this made them more focused and determined to catch the attackers.

  Good, because he was determined to kill them. They had attacked his pack.

  “Captain,” Browner stared at the captain of the ship, his face full of rage. “Get me those terrorists.”

  “Aye, sir.” The captain turned back and entered the bridge.

  Karrn chose to follow him. He enjoyed a good hunt.

  “Commander Kibet, sensors detected an ion trail from the boarding pod. I want them.”

  The dark-skinned first officer snapped to attention. “Aye, sir.” After checking his station, he shouted, “Navigation, course two-six-three by two-five-five, full military thrust. Sensors monitor the ion trail and update the navigation system. Tactical, prepare boarding teams and weapons.”

  Karrn looked at the visualization of the trail on the main screen. His fur bristled in anticipation.

  In the background, he saw a massive gas giant. “Sir, the trail leads into the Jovian system. If they reach Jupiter before us, we’ll lose them,” Navigation reported.

  The minutes passed as the ship accelerated at 3.5 g. It would be a slow acceleration for a Shraphen ship, but Karrn had learned to respect human engineering. Still, at that moment, he had the feeling he was crawling.

  “Got them. They are at zero-zero-two point one by three-five-eight point three,” came the report from Sensors.

  The section of the screen was enhanced, and for the first time, Karrn saw his prey. It was a small, conical capsule. Entirely black, the hull was composed of hexagonal panels, seemingly designed to minimize radar reflections. The engines were located deep within the hull to reduce light and heat emissions. A ship truly built for stealth and the hunt.

  Captain Carmichel stood up from his chair; it seemed he was about to jump through the screen when the stealth ship exploded in a blinding light.

  The screen dimmed in the brightest area, and multiple alarms sounded from stations on the bridge. A shockwave, almost unnoticeable, shook the Argos for a second. Then the screen was empty—no wreckage left to examine.

  “Report!” Captain Carmichel turned to the sensor station.

  “Sir, the unknown ship self-destructed. It seems it used a small nuclear charge.”

  Captain Carmichel said out loud what everyone was thinking. “Fucking cowards!”

  —————

  The ship searched the area for another hour but found no debris or genetic material from the vessel or its crew. Since Lieutenant Davies’ situation was still critical, the captain decided to leave further investigations to the Sol System defense forces and make best speed for Gripbo Station.

  Karrn walked into the morgue to visit his friends for the last time. The doctor pulled the body of Captain Gerber out of the cooling chamber. “We did a preliminary autopsy, sir. They didn’t feel a thing; the bullet destroyed the brain instantly.”

  Karrn stood there, deep sadness and rage fighting inside him. He leaned forward to the man who had saved his people by condemning his own to war. As he came close to the ear, he whispered, “I swear by the Great Hunter in the sky, your death will be avenged.”

  He was sure someone had ordered the assassins, and he was sure he would find them—and rip their throat out.

  Before he walked out, he saw the linen that covered his friend’s, his packmate’s, body, and decided to cover his face again.

  While doing so, the air carried a weak scent, not unusual in the infirmary: Unigel.

  But the scent came from the body. He looked around to see if anyone was watching him. No one was.

  He pulled the linen aside and sniffed along the body—Unigel, weak but distinct.

  “Hrm hmm, am I disturbing you?”

  Karrn was embarrassed, but he quickly remembered something IronBallz once told him: If the humans ever catch you doing something embarrassing, say it’s a cultural tradition. That’s how I got Lieutenant Carrels to rub my belly every time we meet.

  “Sorry, Doctor, it’s a burial ceremony among my people. We try to remember the deceased’s scents.”

  “Oh—sorry. Should I leave you alone?” The doctor looked genuinely embarrassed and believed the made-up story.

  “No, I got everything I needed. One question: were the bodies treated with Unigel?” Karrn had a new trail to follow, but he had to be careful not to alarm his prey.

  “No, not that I know of. Why?” The doctor scrolled through the autopsy report.

  “Just a thought.”

  Later, Karrn met with IronBallz. The elderly Glider was drunk again.

  “Do you think you can manage to stay sober for more than a day?”

  ‘Yes, I’m sure. I just don’t like to. Live my life and tell me that you enjoy the memories.’ The Glider was in a worse mood than usual, but Karrn didn’t have time for diplomacy. The techs had almost finished repairing the internal sensors, so they couldn’t talk for much longer without Lyra observing everything.

  “Listen, you drunk fool, I need you. Something is not right. I think the bodies in the morgue are fake—or clones. And I don’t know who I can trust.”