Haunter Grey: Outliers

By Ross C Miller

When you are everything you know a monster to be...
How do you live...?

Moriah and Triillian ... human DNA experiments ... one mixed with Cheetah, the other with Osprey ... both created to be deadly weapons.
Grimmer ... another DNA experiment ... sequentially modified to be the Ultimate Infiltration Warrior, far surpassing even her creators, the Unity.
Rabid ... an Extreme Explosive Dissociative Identity Disorder victim, whose beast within has only one thought ... kill or die.
Suri McKinnah ... the single horrifically scarred survivor of a Unity raid.
These five ... know exactly what they are.
They know exactly what they’re capable of.
One thin thread connects them all.

Outliers is a very dark and sometimes excruciatingly painful story of five broken lives and how they manage to survive, being who and what they are, during the epic and gripping saga that is the Haunter Grey series.

5 Stars!! 11/10/21 Reviewed By Tammy Ruggles for Readers’ Favorite
Haunter Grey - Outliers: Haunter Grey Book 3, by Ross C Miller, is an immersive, compelling science fiction novel that sweeps you into the lives and stories of the characters. What if you were the definition of a monster? If you were caught up in the first two Haunter Grey books, then hold on to your hat. This one is a deep-dive into the characters, and the plot is alluring enough to attract the most casual of science fiction fans: DNA experiments. Human DNA mixed with animals. Moriah and Trillian are designed to be the weapons of choice. This darkly captivating premise is ripe for a movie. In fact, the whole series deserves to be on film or offered as a mini-series. It's intricate, well-written, and addictive. In this book we're dealing with the Unity again, with characters like Grimmer, Rabid, McKinnah, etc. These are genetically modified, with tragic and deadly results.

Miller again hits a home run in this often disturbing but highly entertaining follow-up to the second installment, Journey. He has a way of taking tragic characters and using them to tell a dramatic story of survival. His attention to detail is to be admired, his commitment to worldbuilding is obvious, and the result is a series that you will want to read again, and recommend to science fiction fans. I like that he gives refresher information in the narrative as you go along, as there are quite a few plot points and characters. If Origin left you wanting more of the characters and story, then this book certainly expands on it and gives you some backstory. Miller knows his characters well, and knows how to steer them through arcs that are grueling yet satisfying, and ties it all together. His way with dialogue, inner struggle, and conflict is outstanding. If you're looking for a sci-fi novel you can get swept up in, Haunter Grey - Outliers: Haunter Grey Book 3, by Ross C Miller, is that novel.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Skye Run
• Release date: Mar 16, 2021
• ISBN: 9781952962004

Book preview

Prologue

The left hand held her by the throat.

…but…

It was going to kill her.

…she didn’t do … why…

His eyes seemed to keep trying to blink from the sides.

…it’s getting out…

He was going away.

…i … can’t…

If he went away, she’d die.

Just like Da’isha did.

NO!!!

She started to swing her feet up.

The other fist smashed into the side of her face.

Her head snapped back.

NO!!!

She hung like a ragdoll.

His hands shook with the effort of trying to take control back.

It might have broken her neck.

NOT THIS TIME!!

She was going to die.

"NOOOO!!!" he screamed. NOT … HER! NOT … AGAIN!

He grabbed the wrist.

He was never stronger than it was.

It had to kill.

Nothing else mattered.

It had to kill.

He couldn’t make it let go.

YOU … WILL … NOT!!

The left hand yanked her away as the right hand reached.

She grabbed the wrist with both hands.

Her face was turning purple.

She needed to breathe.

He grabbed one of her knives as she dangled from the left hand.

The sheath and much of the front of her suit came with it.

He had time to notice the suit was layered.

All the layers had come with the sheath.

There was blood across her chest.

In one motion he switched his grip on the handle and shook the sheath off.

Knives and pieces of her clothing scattered along the deck.

He buried the knife right up to the hilt and through the left forearm. …the hand that had her throat.

He howled.

He almost couldn’t feel the pain.

Her eyes rolled up.

He yanked the handle of the knife back, cutting through muscle.

The knife stopped when it hit bone.

The hand didn’t let go.

He grabbed the thumb and pulled.

He howled again.

It was an animal sound.

That sound scared him more than anything ever had or would.

Every time he’d ever heard it … he always came back to find a blood bath.

He was going away.

He couldn’t stop it.

The thumb snapped as the left hand threw her.

He felt muscles tear in his shoulders and chest.

She cartwheeled in the air until she slammed into the side of the shuttle and fell in a heap.

The left hand smashed him in the face.

Ignoring the pains … the arm … his shoulder … the thumb … his face … he ran.

It was distracted.

It felt the pains.

He ran, head low, as fast as he could make the feet go.

They didn’t want to move.

The thing tried to stop them.

He jerked the knife in the arm in the other direction.

He howled.

It forgot his feet.

He ran straight into the side of the shuttle with a resounding thud and bounced back.

He almost fell.

He was almost unconscious.

Blood ran into his eyes.

Blood ran off his arm.

It caught its balance.

He hit the back end of the knife, burying even the hilt into the wound.

He slammed his forehead into the shuttle again.

And again.

And a third time.

It howled and nearly fell.

He screamed at it to get it to focus on him.

He could barely stand.

The shuttle ramp came down.

RUN! GO! GET OUT!

He slid his face along the side of the shuttle, trying not to see anything but the ramp. …trying desperately to make it move there.

OUT! GET OUT! LEAVE! GO! NOW!

He staggered.

It wanted to break things.

…destroy things.

…kill whatever might be killable.

It wanted out.

It wanted loose.

He was almost there.

He couldn’t hang on.

He tried hard to lose his balance toward the ramp.

It almost stopped.

It grabbed for the ramp frame.

The thumb caused it pain.

It paused to look at its hand.

It saw the knife.

It was distracted.

He threw himself over onto the ramp.

The point of the knife caught.

It cut him even farther.

Blood ran.

The ramp closed.

He rolled with the increasing incline.

The pain in his left arm was bad.

The pain in his face was worse.

He rolled onto his feet.

If she was alive, then she was safe from it now.

…as long as it didn’t put the ramp down.

It might take over, but it wouldn’t get out.

With a sigh he was unconscious.

The thing had full control now.

It loped to the control room.

It looked quickly and started flipping switches.

It grabbed the yoke as it jumped into the pilot seat.

It pushed the grav-drive up.

It howled as the shuttle didn’t move.

It was jerked down as the shuttle lurched.

The shuttle tumbled as it flew.

It pressed him back into the chair for a moment.

It looked.

It was in the blackness of space.

The stars moved upwards, quickly.

The ship flashed upwards.

The pain in its arm made it look.

It reached for the knife sticking through its arm.

Its hand was red.

It yanked the knife out and threw it behind him.

It didn’t know or care where.

It pulled at the thumb to straighten it.

It popped.

It hurt.

A drip covered its eye.

It wiped at its face.

Its hand was wet with red.

It looked at the thumb and moved it.

It went back to that bad angle again.

It didn’t hurt this time.

It straightened the thumb again.

It yanked up its shirt with its good hand.

It tore off strips with its teeth and spat the shreds.

It tied one of the strips to keep its thumb on the inside of its hand.

It tied the other around where the knife had gone through.

It pulled back on the yolk, stopping the stars.

It lit the ion-drive and pushed the thrusters to maximum.

It screamed a wide-mouthed roar at the front viewport.

It wiped its face.

Its hand was wet again.

Everything was red.

It hurt.

Everything was pain.

Someone hurt it.

It got up, searching.

It would kill anything it found.

The speed of its search let it cover the entire shuttle quickly.

It found no one.

It was confused.

Someone hurt it.

No one was here.

Its eyes blurred.

It sat on the floor, breathing heavily.

Everything hurt.

It wiped more red off its face.

Its face hurt.

Its forehead hurt.

It howled.

This time … the howl was for the pain. …not the rage.

The rage was gone.

The panic was gone.

There was nothing left to kill.

Only the pain was left.

It toppled over sideways.

Its face hit the deck.

Blood and drool ran.

Rabid, this time, might very well have succeeded in breaking his own skull. He wouldn’t know until he was able to come back. He wouldn’t know what he’d done … what the murderous thing inside him had done.

He never knew.

…until he could see the mess the thing inside him left him with … he never knew what it had done.

Someone had once called his condition Extreme Explosive Dissociative Identity Disorder. But it wasn’t that. …it was far worse.

When the thing got loose … it didn’t care what it did to his own body. It didn’t care about its own muscles or bones. It didn’t care how it broke him doing the things that it had to do.

And that was exactly why Rabid couldn’t care what he did to himself trying to stop it from getting out.

…trying to stop it from killing someone else that he knew.

…and loved.

Da’isha.

It had gotten out before.

Many times.

They knew he’d been swallowed by a burrower.

They knew that burrowers ate bulboar, an underground plant that could kill you just by touching it.

They knew that bulboar was saturated with the neurotoxin that shut down synapse transfers of impulses.

They knew that you couldn’t eat burrower meat because of the residual neurotoxin.

They knew he fought his way out of the burrower, killing it from the inside … with his bare hands … and then tore his way out through its underside.

They knew that the burrower blood, because of the ingested neurotoxin, had shut down synapses in his brain and wiped his mind.

They knew that the combination of all these things was what created the thing inside him.

They knew that Rabid … whoever he was before … whoever he was when he was swallowed … was lost. …gone. Whatever was left when he was erased had control of his body.

It was only trying to survive.

The thing knew only that it had to kill so that it could live.

It was trying with everything that it had … and everything it could take … to use as a weapon … to survive.

When it came out … it was holding the rib it had used to help it escape from the burrower.

When it came out … ever since … it only had one mode, one thought … kill or die.

It would kill anything and everything around it. …even if and though nothing around him might be a danger to him.

It didn’t know.

It didn’t know that the burrower that had swallowed it was long dead.

It didn’t care.

All it knew was that if it didn’t kill … it would die.

Eventually … it would likely kill itself in the process of trying to save its own life.

And … if it didn’t … Rabid would, eventually, be forced to kill it in trying to keep it from hurting someone else.

It didn’t matter that to kill it … he’d be killing himself. With every mess he had to face when he came back … with every friend he found mutilated … torn to pieces … the pool of blood … he died a little more inside.

With every one of those progressive deaths … he found himself deeper in his own personal hell.

Da’isha … her death … what he found when he came back … her broken and twisted body … the thing had even pulled one of her arms off and beaten her with it … far, far beyond just to death … all the blood … had pushed him, very deeply, down into that hell.

While he might look like he was completely here … most of the time … he remained in that perpetual hell.

He would never escape it.

That was the only future he had.

It was the only future he could imagine.

It was the only future that existed.

For as long as he stayed alive … the thing would continue to get out.

He’d lied to himself, thinking that he might be able to see some blue sky over that personal hell. He was off Regia. He had friends. Castor. Lessa. Some of the Greys. A few of the Banshees.

But now … now that Lessa was dead … he had nothing.

There was no blue sky.

There was no redemption.

There was no future.

There was only hell.

Having killed Lessa … only filled the hole over him that he’d lived at the bottom of, ever since he found the crushed piece of meat that had once been Da’isha.

He’d never get out.

He’d never be free of the thing inside him.

Not until he was dead.

…it was only a matter of how many friends would have to die … how much of their blood he’d have on his hands … before someone … solved that problem permanently.

And it would, likely, have to be himself.

People had tried to shoot it.

It was too fast.

It was too relentless.

And it didn’t care if it was shot.

That only made it more desperate … more relentless … to kill.

*****

Part One

Blood

Chapter 1 – Experiment CheetahG4

I am startled.

I wake.

I jump to all fours…

I am stopped.

I fall.

Something heavy holds my feet.

More hold my arms.

I pull at them.

They are tight.

They do not let me go.

I pull at them.

I hiss.

I bare my teeth.

Hard things around my wrists.

I look.

They are around my ankles.

They let me move a little.

They are long on the ground.

I pull with my wrist.

It keeps me here.

I look at one at my ankle.

I do not pull.

I know what it will do.

I am kept here.

They do not let me go far.

More hard things around me.

They keep me in.

The things on my wrist and ankles do little.

The hard things around me would keep me in.

I cannot go between them.

My face will not fit through.

I push hard.

I will not fit through.

I put my hands around the hard things.

I pull them once.

They move.

A little.

I pull at them harder.

They move a little more.

I can pull harder.

I do not.

I look between them.

I put my nose between them.

Things move on the other side of the hard things.

I can see them.

I can smell them.

I am hungry.

Must eat.

I will catch one.

I will kill it.

I will eat it.

Dry.

Thirst.

I smell the air.

I look at everything.

There.

Drink.

I can move to there.

It is here with me.

…inside the hard things.

I move close and sniff at it.

It smells … not bad.

It smells … must have.

I can drink it.

I look at everything around me.

Nothing is near.

The hard things keep the other things away.

I can drink.

I must stay alert.

I put my nose close to the drink.

I lick it up.

A noise.

I lift my head slightly and search.

I lower myself slowly.

I drink more.

A thing is coming.

It smells like food.

I back slowly.

I am down.

The thing comes close

I pounce.

The things around my ankles and wrist catch.

I fall hard.

My face hits the hard-down.

Pain.

My teeth pierce my lip.

There is blood.

I yank hard at the things that hold me.

I shriek and spit my anger.

I need a hand. It knocked over its bowl again.

More things come.

They push their bite-forks at me.

They sting me.

I back away.

A thing reaches in.

It starts to take the thing that holds drink.

I dive at the hand.

The drink holder falls as it takes back its hand.

They stab me with their bite-forks.

The forks snap and crackle loudly as they bite me.

My arms jerk from the bites.

Some of my fur burns where I am bit.

I rub at the places that smoke.

I back away, as far as I can go.

The bite-forks are still inside with me.

The thing reaches in again.

It takes the drink holder.

The thing flips it over quickly.

The drink is on the hard-down.

It takes its hand back even faster.

I growl and bare my teeth.

It puts drink down the slide.

The drink holder is full again.

The things go away.

*****

I wake.

I am.

I have to think.

It is slow doing so.

I must put one thought after the last.

The thoughts must flow.

I am.

I live.

I live behind my eyes.

I am here behind my eyes.

My eyes show me what is around me.

I move my hand.

I am bound.

I am … held here.

Where am I?

How did I get here?

There is blood on my arm.

I smell it.

It is mine.

I am wounded.

I fought a thing.

The thing wounded me.

I killed it.

And now I find me back here.

Inside what keeps me.

The space around me is large.

That which keeps me in is small.

I am thirsty.

I smell that which I want.

There is a container there, on the floor.

What I want is in it.

I crouch on all fours and look everywhere.

The things are not here.

Many other things are here.

But they are in hard-things that keep them in. …like mine.

I move my face to the container.

I watch everything.

Sometimes, the things hide with their bite-forks.

They sting me with them.

I will kill them, if I can.

I put my face to the container.

I smell.

I am thirsty.

I am quiet.

I put my tongue in the drink.

It is what I want.

I put my tongue in it and bring some into my mouth quickly.

I do that again and again and again.

I pull what is in the container into my mouth.

I swallow when there is enough behind my tongue.

I watch around me.

I lick up more until the container is empty.

Noises.

There are other things held the way I am. …at my wrists and ankles.

I smell them.

There are many smells.

I know some of them.

They are like others.

I have killed others like them.

These will fight me.

They will try to kill me.

They will die.

I wait.

They will come to get me.

I will have to fight.

I will have to kill.

A thing comes by.

If fills my drink container.

It drops my food at the low open space.

I reach.

It stabs me with its bite-fork.

My arm jerks and twitches.

It stings.

Smoke rises from where it bit me.

I rub at the fur there.

There is no blood.

I will kill it if ever I can.

WHAT ARE YOU LOOKIN’ AT!

I lower my face and start to bare my teeth.

It gets closer.

I reach through the hard-things quickly.

My claws are out full.

It stabs me with the bite-fork.

It bites me harder than it did the last time.

My arm pulls.

My face hits the things between the spaces of the wall.

A flash in my eye.

I move back, away from it, blinking.

I leaked from between my legs.

I would spray the thing with the bite-fork.

But it would stab me there with the bite-fork.

I will kill it if ever I can.

It moves to the next thing.

A thing held in another small place, just there, held like I am.

The thing outside fills its drink container and drops food on the floor.

It moves to the next thing.

I look at everything.

I watch everything before I reach.

I move to that end of the thing that holds me.

I slowly reach for my food on the floor.

I am hungry.

I can eat it.

It will make me feel better.

It is the same color as the insides of the things I must fight.

It smells like the insides of the things I must fight.

I can eat it.

I tear at it with my teeth.

It tastes good.

I swallow the pieces quickly.

I eat it all.

I feel stronger.

There was not enough.

I am still hungry.

They will let me out again soon.

I will kill what they put with me.

I will eat more then, as fast as I can.  …before they stop me.

*****

It hurts.

They surround me.

They stab me with their bite-forks.

Those are not sharp.

There is no blood.

It bites me!

It stings!

It jerks my arms and legs.

I turn watching them.

I watch them carefully.

Some are behind me.

The bite-forks sting my back.

They jabber at me.

They make loud noises.

I fall.

I get back to my feet as quickly as I can.

They sting me more.

I want to kill them.

They move, circling me.

They stab me when I am not watching them.

I cannot watch them all.

My haunch starts to give out.

They stabbed me many times.

My legs are numb.

My legs do not want to work.

I can barely stand.

They make noises with their mouths.

They jump at me, waving their arms and barking at me.

I turn and dive to swipe my claws at one of them.

I was not looking at it.

I knew where it was.

It was not watching well.

It was slow.

I connect.

My claws tear at it as they pass.

It falls.

It bleeds.

It writhes.

Blood comes from its throat.

The bite-forks stab me in my back of my neck.

I should not have turned away from them to watch it die.

The stings make my legs jump and jerk.

I fall.

They stab me many more times.

I cannot eat what is left on my claws.

There is no time.

I try to get up.

All my muscles vibrate.

They keep stinging me.

I cannot control my legs.

I cannot breathe.

The bite-forks stab me again, many times.

I cannot think.

My legs give out.

I fall.

One of them … a large one … stands on my back, pinning me to the ground.

I cannot breathe.

It is heavy.

If I could move … I would kill it.

The bite-fork is pushed tightly against the back of my neck.

It jolts me.

I scream.

My eyes blink sideways.

I fight to stay here.

They stand on my arms.

There are many of them.

They pin my wrists to the ground with the bite-forks.

I start to pull my knees up.

The stab in my back is low, and in the center, just above my hips.

It is a very large sting.

My legs do not want to move.

I will kill them.

One pulls my head back.

It pulls my hair.

Hard to breathe.

I open my mouth wide, showing my teeth.

I shriek at them.

I cannot fight them.

One puts a collar around my throat.

It clicks. It buzzes.

They all jump and move quickly.

My legs and arms are heavy.

They will not work.

I cannot make them move.

They stab me in my stomach.

They stab my legs.

They stab my arms.

There is no blood.

It is hard to see.

Hard to think.

The bite-fork stabs my face.

…above my eyes.

It knows I live here.

It jolts me.

Everything vibrates.

My claws pierce my hands.

I bite my tongue.

I taste blood.

My eyes blink from the sides and close.

They are open.

But I cannot see.

The noises they make blur together.

…must stay awake…

…i will kill …

…must

…stay

…kill…

*****

Chapter 2 – Experiment OspreyG7

She opened her eyes.

She hurt.

Everything hurt.

She started to change position.

That hurt more.

She stayed where she was.

Her vision was very sharp.

She could see the small hairs on some of the moving things.

They were contained … restricted … like she was.

The things between the open places in the boxes they were in were hard.

She pulled herself up by hanging onto one of the hard-things.

She looked at them closely.

She wrapped her long fingers around the hard-things.

She had two of the hard-things in each hand. …two fingers around each hard-thing.

She could easily reach through the open space, if she wanted to.

She squeezed them together a little.

Squeezing them hurt.

She ignored the everywhere pain.

She squeezed them more.

They moved a little.

They moved back when she let go.

They did not move much.

She did not squeeze them together hard.

She could do so.

It would hurt.

She could ignore the pain.

The pain was always.

She wrapped the fingers of both hands around the same two hard-things and squeezed them together.

They bent farther than they did the first time.

They stayed when she let them loose.

She did not keep squeezing.

The others would see.

They would bring their burn-sticks.

She looked at her hands.

She looked out again.

She looked at the hands of the other things that she could see.

Her hands were not like the others.

She spread all her fingers.

There were three up, on each hand, and one down.

She curled her fingers and stretched them out again.

Her fingers were all pointed.

The outside finger of each hand did not have to be up.

She moved them both down.

Now there were two up and two down on each hand.

She closed her hands and then spread her fingers out again.

Each finger pointed away from the one across from it.

The ends of her fingers made a sound when she tapped them together.

She tilted her head. …listening. …seeing.

She made her hands two and two again.

She wrapped her fingers around the hard-things between the spaces.

She squeezed the hard-things together more tightly, this time.

It hurt more, now, than it did before.

They started to bend.

She did not like the hurt.

Everywhere hurt.

Squeezing the hard-things made her hands, arms, and shoulders hurt.

There was a sharp noise from another box.

She let go of the hard-things and looked quickly.

She watched the thing in the next box.

It was covered with short hair.

It had a burn-collar like she did.

It had long teeth and claws.

Its nose was flat and wide, with the long teeth at the end.

She put her fingers to her own face.

Her nose was long thin.

Her nose stood out from her face.

Her mouth and teeth were part of her face. …not her nose.

Her face was not shaped like the thing in the next box.

It looked at her and bared its teeth briefly.

She moved back but continued to watch it.

It bent down and stuck its tongue into the drink-container and pulled the drink in.

She pushed her own tongue out.

It was not long and flat like the other thing’s was.

She could make it mostly flat. But it was not long.

The thing in the next box picked its head up.

Its nose was wet.

The tongue came out and licked the whole end of its nose.

She could not touch the end of her nose with her tongue.

She could barely see the end of her tongue when she pushed it out as far as it would go.

There was a drink-container here inside her box, also.

Thirst.

She picked the drink-container up carefully.

The drink in the container moved.

It looked like it wanted to escape the container.

She did not want the drink to escape the container.

She moved the drink container very carefully.

She brought it toward her face.

She smelled it.

The drink smelled … necessary.

She put the container to her mouth and poured some of the drink in, being careful not to spill any. Sometimes the things did not bring any for a long time.

She swallowed.

Good.

She drank more.

She put the drink-container down carefully and moved to watch the thing in the next box.

It hissed at her.

She moved back, away from the thing.

She hurt.

Her hands hurt.

Her legs hurt.

Her insides hurt.

Everything hurt.

When she moved to touch her hand, it hurt more.

She kept still.

Everything continued to hurt. …but it all hurt less. She could ignore it.

She watched the other things in their boxes.

Some pushed against their boxes, trying to get out.

One threw itself against the hard-things of its box.

It made a loud noise.

It shook the box.

The things with the burn-sticks came.

The burn-sticks crackled.

The thing in the box bellowed.

The things outside the boxes made loud noises.

More of the things inside their boxes made loud noises.

The thing in the next box, with the long teeth only watched.

It did not make noises.

They jabbed the thing shaking its box with their burn-sticks.

The burn-sticks looked partly like the hard-things between the spaces of her box.

Except they could hold those.

They could use them.

These only stayed where they were.

And these did not burn her.

Those that they held would crackle and burn.

They caused much more pain on top of what she already had.

The bellowing thing took a long time before it stopped making noise.

That made the things outside the boxes angry.

WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT?

She looked at the thing outside of her box.

It had a burn-stick.

It looked like it wanted to hurt her.

…whhaat rrr wookkiing att… she repeated.

A parrot. We got us a parrot! it said.

…parrrot, she repeated slowly.

You are new. Do not get too close to it. Do not get close to any of them.

…cloasss… she repeated, looking back and forth between them.

The thing outside her box got down closer to the floor and looked in at her.

She moved close to that end of her box and looked back at it.

You do not look so dangerous.

…daynjer … us…

What are you doing? Get away…

The close thing turned to look at the other thing.

She moved fast.

Fast hurt worse.

She grabbed it around its throat. …two fingers on each side.

She hurt.

Everything hurt.

It hurt to move.

It hurt more to move fast.

She yanked it back, very hard, against the outside of her box.

It came apart.

The two pieces fell.

Her hand was a different color now.

That color sprayed from the big part of the thing.

It ran like it was the same as the drink in her drink-container.

The color spread along the floor.

The part that could look at her was a little farther away.

She could reach it, if she wanted to.

She could reach the rest of it.

She looked at her hand, inspecting it.

She smelled it.

It smelled similar to the chunks of what they gave her to eat.

She licked at her hand.

Something hit her from outside her box.

It jolted her.

A burn-stick.

She jumped and hit the inside of her box.

Everything was pain.

All is pain.

Pain is all.

More things came and jabbed her.

Everything turned very dark and very clear.

She would kill them all.

Her world was pain as they kept jabbing her.

Everything got very dark.

She was angry.

She would kill them.

One of the sticks came in at her face.

The end would burn her.

She grabbed the stick behind the burn-end and pulled.

The thing slammed into the outside of the box and fell.

More sticks came in.

She grabbed the burn-sticks, moving faster than they could.

She bent the burn-sticks back against the walls of her box.

There were more than she could grab.

She kicked some of them.

Those bent more easily.

Many sticks came in, all jabbing her.

Everything tightened.

Her feathers started to burn.

She stopped.

She could not breathe.

She blinked.

HIGH POWER! ONE! TWO! THREE!

They all came in at the same time.

Her arms and legs jerked.

She tried to cover her face.

Nothing moved the way she wanted it to.

AGAIN!

They jabbed her again.

Her head hit the hard-things between the spaces of the box.

The hard-things burned her, too.

Everything was very tight.

She could not breathe.

They left their burn-sticks on her.

She wanted to scream from the pain.

She could not take a breath to do so.

Her eyes seemed to close sideways.

Her muscles continued to spasm after she was unconscious.

*****

Chapter 3 – Experiment EnhancedG96

The Unity Lord of Science held up the square block, giving the experiment a full view of it. Square, it said.

The sound of the word came from everywhere. The experiment did not have a biosuit headpiece to receive the Enhanced Reality transmissions from the A.I.

The subhuman employees on either side of the experiment stayed back, out of the way. The inhibitor would be activated at the slightest threat of danger. Danger was always assumed with these experiments. Some of the Unity employees had died, simply from making the one false assumption that the experiment might not be deadly, simply because it did not appear to be.

The Unity held out its bio-gloved index finger on the end of the board with the open spaces. Hole, it said.

It held the square forward, so the experiment could take it.

The experiment sat there looking at the square.

It did not raise its hand.

The Unity took its hand, turned it palm up, and put the square into it.

Square hole, the Unity said.

The experiment looked at the block in its hand.

It looked at the board with the open places.

It looked at the Unity.

It bit the edge of the block.

The Unity took the block from the experiment.

It held the block forward again, so the shape could easily be seen.

Square.

It moved the block back and pointed to the space on the board.

Hole.

It held the block forward, again.

Square hole.

The experiment took the block.

It did not bite it again.

The Unity touched the board again.

Square hole.

The experiment looked at the block, turning it.

The experiment looked at the board.

The experiment tilted its head.

The experiment put the block into the five-pointed space.

The block did not fit through.

The experiment pushed down on the block.

The board tilted and bounced out from beneath the pressure, scattering the blocks and the board all over the floor.

It is defective, the Unity declared.

How can it be defective, Lord? the employee asked. The version before this one was brilliant, right from the beginning.

I will recreate this generational unit, the Unity decreed, ignoring the employee’s question, "with only half the additional neurons this one had added. The theory I will be testing is that, at a certain degree of brain capacity, the resulting sheer multitude of available neural pathways dedicated to intelligence becomes a deterrent, and so are counterproductive due to the brain’s inability to unrandomize specific functions along those pathways.

I will retrieve some of the ninety-fifth-generation source material so we can begin creating this generation, again, for that testing. I will change the necessary modifications toward that end. If the error does not happen again, then I will test the further grey matter volume growth to the same level as this one. The defect may have only been caused by the difference of capacity growth this one was subject to. I will discover if my theory stands. …or whether it might have been some outside factor. Should I discover that the defect was caused by outside factors, then those factors shall be removed.

Outside factor? But … everything is controlled, Lord. What outside factors could there be.

Yes. Everything is controlled. …except for that which handles the material, both before and after the modifications.

But … that would be us.

Yes, the Unity agreed, leaving a very pregnant short pause that did not need to be filled for them to understand exactly what was left unsaid. It would. Put it back in its cage. After I do a comprehensive scan, mapping its brain impulses, I will feed it to the subatomic reorganizer. It will be of no further use.

One of the employees pressed a button on the device it held.

The inhibitor around its neck activated. The experiment could not move its arms or legs.

It could not move anything.

It could breathe. It could blink. That was all.

The experiment started to tip over in its chair.

The employee kept it from falling.

The employee took both the thing’s arms and bent low, bracing the experiment over his shoulders. As he picked it up, one hand went between the experiment’s thighs, using one to hold it tightly to his shoulders, but letting the other leg dangle behind him.

*****

The LabTech took her into the next room.

The cages and tanks were in this room. Most of the tanks had something growing in them at different stages. Most of those were the different stages of the experiment-woman he was carrying.

She is supposed to be some sort of variation of the G that runs the lab. …the Lord of Science.

The prior versions all had to be carried, as well. While they were all intelligent, and they did not tend to be uncooperative … the Unity that ran the lab did not want any of them able to move freely, unless it was under a very controlled situation. Most of the experiment-women dealt with that. They had all understood who they were, and what their purpose was. They had learned the extent of their existence. Many of them took the tests they were given and then were content to stay in their cage.

Some resisted. …to a degree. That was why the inhibitor was almost always active. …either controlling the amount of movement they had available … or employing negative reinforcement to compel cooperation.

Each of the ninety-six generations of the experiment-woman watched everything … everything … all the time, though.

It was creepy.

The LabTech would be working at an assigned or regular chore, and he would turn around to see the current version of the woman active … in the cage … but sitting there staring at him. …making no sounds or movements. …just staring at him.

Some of them were violent, early on. The LabTechs had to zap them nearly unconscious with the correctional prods. They all learned quickly enough, though. Cooperate … and you do not get zapped. Cooperate … and the inhibitor collar was not left on max while you were locked in the cage.

The routine was the same. When the Labtech came in, the experiment-woman was to lie down in a position convenient to taking her out once the inhibitor was activated. She would get control of certain parts returned to her, depending on what test she was about to undergo.

The tests were always to find the limits of their enhanced abilities. Strength, stamina, intelligence, tactical planning. The list got pretty long.

The last one exceeded by far all the ninety-four before it. This one, though… 

This one did not seem to be much good for anything.

At least … it is good for the one thing that all the rest of the others were.

As he set it down on the floor of the wash cubicle, he let his arm, from his elbow to his wrist, rub high between her thighs as he placed her.

After touching and exploring her in a number of places, he rolled her over onto her front and pulled her hips up. He moved her legs so her knees would help to stabilize her for the moment. He still had to leave one hand on her. She had no control over any of her muscles. They were all slack. She would tip over if she was unattended, even for a moment.

She wore nothing. 

None of them were ever given anything to wear.

They were lab experiments. Nothing more.

But that was convenient. It allowed her to be hosed down with the lab’s antibacterial wash. She could air-dry in her cage. They were always hosed before they came out for their tests, unless the test absolutely required them to be dry.

The side of her face was against the floor.

The collar will be pressing against her throat.

From where he was, behind her, he moved her arms so her wrists were under her shoulders, keeping the inhibitor off the floor.

If you die because you cannot breathe, the Lord will kill me.

The LabTech looked back up through the long windows.

It was the end of the work hectomin. The Unity had left the lab. So had the other Tech.

The LabTech knelt on the floor behind her, holding onto her hips.

It kept her from tipping over while he undid his belt and made himself ready.

She could not move anything. She could not resist.

But she could feel pain. If he zapped her, she would definitely feel that.

And she would feel exactly what he was about to do.

He held onto her hips and worked until he could push himself inside.

He pulled at her hips, pressing her against him.

He moved her away from him a little, then pulled her to him again.

He continued this, yanking harder, until he made a straining noise.

He pulled her hard and tight against him, staying there.

The collar kept her from moving.

The collar kept her from doing anything.

After a short while he moved her gently onto her side. He moved her arms so nothing would interfere with her breathing. Then he stood to pull his pants back up.

"The Unity said it did not matter what happened to you, as long as nothing interfered with your training or tests, and you remained alive and healthy and clean. You are alive. And you are healthy. And you will be cleaned very shortly.

You are sterile, he continued, just like all the rest of your generations. And I work very hard taking care of all of you. So, it is only right that you take care of me. And it does not matter if you like to … or like it. …or even want to. You do not exactly have a choice. You cannot do anything about it.

That was what he said every time.

But she was stupid. This one was completely ignorant. She likely did not even know what he was saying.

He took out a small hose. This one was set to warm water, only. Putting her knee up with her foot on the floor, close to her bottom, he flushed her out. …where he had used her.

And that … is an important part of being clean. They teach us hygiene, the very first thing when we first come in. You must not smell. …particularly of that.

It still could not move.

After rolling her over onto her back and bracing up her face so she would not drown, he hosed her with the anti-bacterial wash from a number of angles. He sat her up to hose her hair, making sure he did not get any of the spray in her nose or mouth.

When he was done with the wash, he picked her up with an arm under her shoulders and the other under her knees.

Her head lolled.

He looked at her open mouth.

And if I knew it would not stop you from breathing … I would try that end.

He always did and said the same thing, so he would not forget anything that he was supposed to do.

He had to make sure his grip on her was right, so her feet would not fly up. He had dropped one like that, looking at all her parts, at the beginning.

He carefully got down onto his knees and crawled through the cage door, making sure none of her caught on anything.

He laid her on the cage floor and made sure that she was not constricted by anything.

He gave her a pat on the front of her pelvic bone. Make sure that stays warm for me.

*****

If he did what he always did, in the order he always did it, he would deactivate the collar before locking the cage door, and then he would see to her meal.

She had perpetuated this particular sequence by remaining still well after the collar was deactivated.

He had mentioned to the other LabTech that he liked to see them get functional again. Sometimes, they had specific amusing reactions to what he had done to them. The second LabTech had only said, Playing with fire. But neither one said anything outside of this room about it, as far as she could tell.

Since he would leave the lab after making sure that she was fed and had water, the LabTech would remain gone until it was time to get her ready for the next series of tests. By laying there after he deactivated the collar, and remaining unmoving until after her meal was made available, she deprived him of that particular pleasure. Not wanting to stay much later than he must, he had to deactivate it sooner, if the effect was going to … demonstrably … wear off while he was still there. She had not been successful, waiting excessively long, in getting him to shut it off on the way to the cage from the cleaning cubicle.

Apparently, he is not quite that stupid.

She concentrated … hard … getting into her own brain and rerouting the neural pathways.

Inhibitors worked because the brain and nerve pathways where they were attached to the spinal cord were all mapped. They shut down specific nerves, increasing the resistance in the synapses. Thus, the inhibitors could leave the autonomic nerve pathways intact, so the body would not just shut down. …if the inhibitor was not set to the maximum. But it could isolate and deaden all or a few specific voluntary ones quite easily. The nerves targeted by the inhibitor depended on what it had been set to accomplish.

Along with the multiplication of neural pathways in her brain, they had also increased the number in her spine. Which had made it larger. Her spine had been enlarged to accommodate the extra volume. But, with that much bone, they had also made it lighter … and stronger … using carbon fibers.

Once, she had begun to free herself of the inhibitor while the testing was in progress. The Unity thought something might be wrong with her, physically, and interrupted the testing series to perform a medical exam. She corrected her error and let the inhibitor function as it should while the Unity was present. If the Unity knew she could bypass it at will, then she would be dead. …and very quickly so.

So. Instead … she started rerouting the pathways while he was carrying her from the cleaning cubicle. …so that the temporary aftereffects of the inhibitor could be bypassed quickly.

Multiplying the available neuron chains in her brain allowed for the bypassing of all the specifically targeted nerve pathways to be accomplished conveniently. …if not exactly easily.

She had been learning to do this for almost as long as the LabTech had been using her. …ever since the very first time she heard the words you cannot do anything about it. …and recognized them for what they were.

She would be able to move very quickly, when the inhibitor was deactivated, and he put the control down.

All it would take would be just a single moment.

There were things she had to know.

…things she had to learn.

…things she had to know about herself.

And she was running out of time.

She had already learned a few of them.

Leading up to her, there had been ninety-five generations. Each generation received modification on top of modification. This last enhancement, she had heard was to increase the density of her grey matter resulting in well more than quadrupling the neurons it contained over the previous generation.

They were going to dispose of her to make way for the next set of modifications to the subsequent version of herself.

That was the singlemost item of importance that she had to deal with immediately.

And she was ready.

He shut down the collar.

She lay still on the floor of her cage.

He put the control on the floor so he could have his hands free for just one more thing.

Make sure that stays warm for me. He reached in and patted her.

He had done that every time before he backed out of her cage.

His routine was the same throughout the full one-hundred times, and more, that he had brought her from her testing.

That was how long she had been out of her growth tank.

The Unity had their employees sleep for one hectomin, work for the next, and then the employees had the third hectomin to themselves.

She