In Silence Waiting

By Nikki McCormack

A science fiction short story by Nikki McCormack.

 

The New Gobi desert is a dangerous place. The only way to cross safely is with guided caravans using genetically engineered slaves called cynta, creatures designed to sense the dangers of the desert. When tragedy strikes partway through the crossing, the surviving members of the caravan find their fate hanging precariously in the claws of a shackled cynta.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nikki McCormack
• Release date: Nov 8, 2014
• ISBN: 9781386941057

Book preview

In Silence Waiting

Holding the carcass down with strong paws, the kirak rips away a strip of red flesh. Flavor and texture go unnoticed. It listens and sniffs the air, vigilant to the threat of superior predators. It freezes, sensing another presence, becoming still as any rock in the desert. No sound or smell accompanies the sensation. Lean muscles twitch. It resumes tearing at the fresh kill.

I draw back from the kirak’s mind, relinquishing the exhilarating wildness of the predator. It startles again at my departure, aware of my presence, yet unable to understand what I am. It will go back to feasting soon.

I spread my area sense, like water spreading over the surface of a stone, as far as I can in all directions, searching for something more threatening than a well-fed kirak. The actions of every living thing in that expanse are mine to observe, an illusion of power crushed by the collar I wear.

Satisfied there are no pressing dangers, I draw back into my physical self. I am crouched, palms pressed down on either side of bare feet, claws sunk into the familiar red dust that blankets the New Gobi. A soft breeze stirs the powdery dust into small funnel clouds. The dust is silky smooth, a texture that would be welcome in different circumstances. Here, it is a nuisance. It permeates everything.

I look up at the muscle-bound brute holding the end of my chain and nod once, parting my lips to show the tips of pointed incisors in subtle threat. The crude mutant grunts satisfaction and tosses a scrap of dried fish my way. I lunge and catch the savory bit before it’s lost in the thick dust.

I crouch as I eat, reaching out with my area sense again. I see myself through the eyes of a watching woman as I chew the dried fish. My pointed incisors show in quick flashes as my jaws move, my bronze eyes unfocused. Short mottled fur runs along my wiry shoulders and tapers down my arms and mid-back. Her reaction is unusual, not quite disgust, something more than mere curiosity.

I withdraw and watch the woman through my eyes. She emerges from the group of apprehensive humans gathered to gawk at me as they always do while we prepare for the desert crossing. A mane of dark red hair emphasizes her fierce green eyes. She stops when the second brute swings his battered rifle