A surge of hormones course through me, momentarily masking the ache in my muscles from the earlier genali poison.
The ache makes me realize my error. The green smoke from my capture was poisonous, and I should have taken the time to rest.
When you're death-resistant, such things become afterthoughts.
Unsure of what other surprises to expect, I realize I can't afford to drag this out. I need to take this creature down quickly and find a way off this perverse planet.
Images of my fellow Maj'Ras, their bodies strewn across the mock battlefield, fuel my rage.
Of course, before I head anywhere, I wouldn't deny myself the pleasure of making whatever genali in my path scream for the sins of their species.
With a renewed ferocity, I press my attack.
He might have poison, but I have agility and strength gained from years of brutal fighting.
I disarm the creature, sending the offending slimy appendages flying through the air to land in wet thuds. Before it can recover, I land a devastating blow to its chest cavity, then latch on.
Twisting and turning, I chortle at the struggling insect before I begin to squeeze. The old clan-taught grip designed to crush bones the elders drilled into me years ago comes into play.
I am in no mood to play the merciful drak.
Unlike the first genali, this one doesn't melt into the usual puddle.
Its body palpitates erratically on its way down. It convulses violently for several long moments before it makes one last weak twitch before ultimately going limp.
With a dissatisfied huff, I stand over the fallen creature, the metallic tang of blood mixing with the cloying stench of slime in the air.
The thrill of victory is muted by the spirit-chaffing combination of the irritating sensation of my un-assuaged rage and the grim reality of my situation.
I'm stranded on an alien planet, surrounded by hostile creatures, with no way of contacting my clan.
Nothing I can't handle, but not something I would have chosen. All of this for entertainment?
It's senseless.
I take the time to wrest a blade from the detached arms. It wasn't made for my four opposing digits with their thick claws.
I can hold it, but it shifts around wildly on the thick pads of my hands.
Useless.
I fling it hard enough to make a loud thwack as it embeds into a tree far above my head. A moment later, two more join it, all waving around wildly in a neat row.
Another surge of white-hot rage threatens to make me see blue once more, but before I can let it loose, something catches my eye.
Half-buried in the undergrowth, a glint of metal shows through the dense foliage. Curiosity piqued, I kneel and brush away the surrounding dirt.
5
Kira
I jolt awake, disoriented and gasping for breath, and the first thing I notice is the jarring, pounding headache in my skull.
It throbs from my eyes to the back of my head in jagged spikes that make my stomach roil.
The chamber I am lying in is bathed in an eerie gold, pulsing emergency light that flickers erratically, and beyond that, everything is silent.
Well, silent except for the ominous groaning of metal around me.
