I pressed the button. Instantly, an alarm blared, sirens howling a shrill warning through the warehouse. Spotlights flashed on, circles of light scanning the floors and aisles, and all the guards instantly snapped to alertness.
Leaning forward, I grabbed a microphone and twisted it toward me, my voice broadcasting through the vast room. “Intruders in aisle forty-nine. I repeat, intruders in aisle forty-nine. All stations respond immediately.”
The vessels didn’t hesitate. My voice had barely died away when the entire unit Shifted, becoming metallic, iron gray dragons in the blink of an eye. Guns clattering to the floor, they scattered in all directions, scaling walls and bounding into the darkness. Within seconds, the entire unit had disappeared.
Surprised, I looked at the screens, trying to follow their movements. All I saw were flashes, a ripple here, the streak of a lean body there. A pair of guards managed to trap one vessel in a corner, shooting it several times with their guns and covering its scales with red paint. The dragon instantly collapsed, flattening itself to the cement, and didn’t move.
I jerked in alarm, but Dr. Olsen shook his head with a smile. “Don’t worry, Mr. Hill,” he told me. “It’s not hurt. The vessels were told to play dead if they were shot. It’s just following orders.”
I relaxed, watching the two guards lower their guns and step back from the “dead” dragon. The vessel didn’t move, and stayed so completely motionless, I might have really thought it dead if I didn’t know better. Triumphant, the men turned to leave, and a second vessel instantly lunged from its hiding place and pounced on them both.
My stomach dropped as the dragon slammed into the humans from behind, sending them both to the floor. I hoped I was not about to watch the vessel rip them apart with the same detachment it showed its brothers. But after that first hit, the guards didn’t move, either, lying motionless on the ground as the dragon hovered over them. Dr. Olsen gave a dark chuckle.
“Our men were also told to play dead and not to move if they were attacked,” he said smugly. “As long as they are no longer a threat, the vessels will consider them neutralized and move on. Glad to see that they did not forget themselves and start fighting. It might’ve been messy, otherwise.”
Heart in my throat, I looked back at the screens, catching fleeting glimpses of dragons darting through the shadows. Shouts and the huff of paintball fire sounded over the speakers, followed by the occasional yell of surprise and pain. The vessels didn’t make a sound as they swept through with brutal effectiveness. For several minutes, chaos reigned over the speakers, as one by one, the humans fell. The final guard, creeping down an aisle, clearly nervous as he stepped over the bodies of his fallen brethren, barely had time to look up at the ceiling before the dragon hanging upside down by the rafters dropped on him like a monstrous bat. There was one terrified shriek, and then static.
For several heartbeats, we waited. On the screens, nothing moved. No humans, dragons or even the ripple of a shadow showed up on any of the cameras. Except for the bodies lying on the cement, the warehouse was eerily still.
Then, a thump sounded on the roof overhead, followed by another. I glanced up, as Dr. Olsen and Ms. Sutton did the same, a proud smile curling the scientist’s mouth.
“I believe they’re here.”
Rising from my chair, I walked across the floor, threw the heavy lock and opened the door.
Four dragons stared at me from the other side, pale eyes shining in the darkness. Another two perched on the roof of the security hut like gargoyles, and a third crouched on a stack of crates nearby, wings partially flared for balance. Seven pairs of flat, emotionless eyes fixed solely on me.
“Gentlemen,” Ms. Sutton said, sounding triumphant. “I believe we have our answer. What do you think, Mr. Hill?”
I looked around, seeing myself reflected in those flat, alien eyes, and smiled.
“Yes,” I said, as the lead dragon watched me with the expression of a statue. “I think they’re ready.”
EMBER
Annoyingly cheerful birdsong penetrated my comfortable sleep.
Nostrils twitching, I opened my eyes, then squinted at the sunlight coming through an open window. Raising my head, I peered at my surroundings, letting my mind catch up to the present. I was in dragon form, lying in the same small room I’d been shown to last night by men in orange robes. I remembered a flurry of movement, the shuffle of bare feet around me and the babble of voices speaking in a language I didn’t know. I recalled one smiling monk kneeling at my head, talking to me throughout the removal of the bullet in my leg. And though I hadn’t understand a word he said, his voice had been low and soothing, and the fingers against my brow cool, even through my scales. He was, I reflected, very brave to sit at the head of an injured dragon while his companions dug a bullet out of its leg, with the patient hissing and growling in pain through the whole ordeal.
Leaning forward, I grabbed a microphone and twisted it toward me, my voice broadcasting through the vast room. “Intruders in aisle forty-nine. I repeat, intruders in aisle forty-nine. All stations respond immediately.”
The vessels didn’t hesitate. My voice had barely died away when the entire unit Shifted, becoming metallic, iron gray dragons in the blink of an eye. Guns clattering to the floor, they scattered in all directions, scaling walls and bounding into the darkness. Within seconds, the entire unit had disappeared.
Surprised, I looked at the screens, trying to follow their movements. All I saw were flashes, a ripple here, the streak of a lean body there. A pair of guards managed to trap one vessel in a corner, shooting it several times with their guns and covering its scales with red paint. The dragon instantly collapsed, flattening itself to the cement, and didn’t move.
I jerked in alarm, but Dr. Olsen shook his head with a smile. “Don’t worry, Mr. Hill,” he told me. “It’s not hurt. The vessels were told to play dead if they were shot. It’s just following orders.”
I relaxed, watching the two guards lower their guns and step back from the “dead” dragon. The vessel didn’t move, and stayed so completely motionless, I might have really thought it dead if I didn’t know better. Triumphant, the men turned to leave, and a second vessel instantly lunged from its hiding place and pounced on them both.
My stomach dropped as the dragon slammed into the humans from behind, sending them both to the floor. I hoped I was not about to watch the vessel rip them apart with the same detachment it showed its brothers. But after that first hit, the guards didn’t move, either, lying motionless on the ground as the dragon hovered over them. Dr. Olsen gave a dark chuckle.
“Our men were also told to play dead and not to move if they were attacked,” he said smugly. “As long as they are no longer a threat, the vessels will consider them neutralized and move on. Glad to see that they did not forget themselves and start fighting. It might’ve been messy, otherwise.”
Heart in my throat, I looked back at the screens, catching fleeting glimpses of dragons darting through the shadows. Shouts and the huff of paintball fire sounded over the speakers, followed by the occasional yell of surprise and pain. The vessels didn’t make a sound as they swept through with brutal effectiveness. For several minutes, chaos reigned over the speakers, as one by one, the humans fell. The final guard, creeping down an aisle, clearly nervous as he stepped over the bodies of his fallen brethren, barely had time to look up at the ceiling before the dragon hanging upside down by the rafters dropped on him like a monstrous bat. There was one terrified shriek, and then static.
For several heartbeats, we waited. On the screens, nothing moved. No humans, dragons or even the ripple of a shadow showed up on any of the cameras. Except for the bodies lying on the cement, the warehouse was eerily still.
Then, a thump sounded on the roof overhead, followed by another. I glanced up, as Dr. Olsen and Ms. Sutton did the same, a proud smile curling the scientist’s mouth.
“I believe they’re here.”
Rising from my chair, I walked across the floor, threw the heavy lock and opened the door.
Four dragons stared at me from the other side, pale eyes shining in the darkness. Another two perched on the roof of the security hut like gargoyles, and a third crouched on a stack of crates nearby, wings partially flared for balance. Seven pairs of flat, emotionless eyes fixed solely on me.
“Gentlemen,” Ms. Sutton said, sounding triumphant. “I believe we have our answer. What do you think, Mr. Hill?”
I looked around, seeing myself reflected in those flat, alien eyes, and smiled.
“Yes,” I said, as the lead dragon watched me with the expression of a statue. “I think they’re ready.”
EMBER
Annoyingly cheerful birdsong penetrated my comfortable sleep.
Nostrils twitching, I opened my eyes, then squinted at the sunlight coming through an open window. Raising my head, I peered at my surroundings, letting my mind catch up to the present. I was in dragon form, lying in the same small room I’d been shown to last night by men in orange robes. I remembered a flurry of movement, the shuffle of bare feet around me and the babble of voices speaking in a language I didn’t know. I recalled one smiling monk kneeling at my head, talking to me throughout the removal of the bullet in my leg. And though I hadn’t understand a word he said, his voice had been low and soothing, and the fingers against my brow cool, even through my scales. He was, I reflected, very brave to sit at the head of an injured dragon while his companions dug a bullet out of its leg, with the patient hissing and growling in pain through the whole ordeal.
