Behind Yellow Eyes: Chapter 11

Story by rhenthar on SoFurry

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Chapter 11.

Marcus's grandfather is concerned. He never came home, and that last message sent to him is extremely alarming. He knows Marcus isn't the type to play tricks, despite some of the ones he played at that age himself. No, this is serious.

He grabs his leather duster from the coat rack, he was always worried this day might come. A quick request to local services produces an aircab en-route, just seconds from his curb. Expenditure he wouldn't normally take, but his trike is probably still parked at the starport.

With an extra fee, something not quite legal but generally unspoken, he sinks deeply into the cushioned seat as the craft ceases obeying traffic laws. He's rushing to the rescue, towards the most important person in his life.

The sky crane attached to the starport is visible several miles distant and approaching rapidly. A long column surrounding an elevator that reaches all the way to the space station in orbit, it's the cheapest way to put cargo into space. Large craft constantly lift into the air around it, others descending steadily, like bees attending a nest.

As soon as his transport reaches the landing area, he's out and running, ignoring the pain in his left hip. It flares for a moment and then ceases, an old injury from another era, one that plagues him occasionally during inclement weather. He is in good shape for someone 73 years old, though his longevity treatments were started late in life, only after he was able to afford them. All because of the project.

A huge gray ship settles onto its platform a dozen meters away, safety strobes declaring where not to be. The wind whips around his silver hair, and he reflexively goes to hold his hat in place, but realizes he left it at home. Two security officers are approaching him, looking grim.

"Sir, if you'll come with us, we'll take you to the skylift where we found his clothes." Both are Rhenthar with coats so dark it's almost impossible to tell they have German Shepherd in their lineage, but there's a certain gait to their walk, and he spots it easily.

"I need access to any video footage you captured," he says to their backs, while they briskly walk through non-civilian passageways that cut through the starport in efficient ways.

One of the Rhenthar turns to regard him silently, as if it's strange he would even make such a request. The other nods.

"He's cleared," that one says, ears held sideways. "This guy is connected to the company that owns this starport. Deny him nothing or it's your ass." Surprise is an emotion that Rhenthar often have difficulty producing, to a human eye. But he catches it.

"Please, call me Joe," he says, while they wait outside an elevator. He shakes each of their paws.

"Lieutenant Epi," says the darker of the two after they walk inside. "My sergeant, Grayson." He points. "We're assigned to this investigation and are at your disposal, sir. Er, Joe."

The elevator doors open and together they exit, turning a corner to face a flurry of activity. Machines crawling on the walls and floor, neon holotape slowly scrolling CRIME SCENE DO NOT CROSS. One of the Rhenthar, Grayson, takes a hold of Joe's shoulder and leads him through the visible barrier. There, on the floor, are Marcus's clothes. A textured black one-piece jumpsuit, two work boots, one sock, underwear, and a white t-shirt.

Joe stares down at the underwear, feeling a wave of fear when he sees the yellow in the crotch, at the same time he catches a whiff of urine. His heart starts to race, confusion yields to anger. A lone sock lay on the floor two meters away, as if Marcus wanted to leave a trail of clothing.

"It's definitely his," says Grayson, pointing. "The RFID patch in the suit scans in with his employee ID. What we don't understand is how it got here. The station's sentient program monitored him putting his equipment away and leaving. It was only after you contacted us that we got it to scrutinize its identification routines. It came up with this, eighteen minutes later.

Joe kneels and sifts through the articles, looking for any signs of a struggle, torn pieces or bloodstains. "Did your machines find any blood?"

"No sir, er, Joe." Epi shakes his muzzle.

"Which is a good sign," Grayson comments. "A lack of injuries indicates the abductor wants him intact. That gives a higher probability to him still being alive and well."

Abductor. Joe shakes his head, turning his anger on himself. This is all his fault, for his participation in something that killed so many.

"Some things are worse than death, sergeant. Much worse. Right now my grandson, who's immune to the D8 virus just the same as I am, is naked, terrified, and alone. So terrified he pissed himself, and believe me, he doesn't scare easily. He has a very long life ahead of him, and that life might be spent enduring unimaginable tortures. We need to know what ship that door led to." Joe points to the open airlock doors, where the view drops fifty meters to the ground. Laser strobes pulse the danger of such a fall around the perimeter with grainy red light.

Sergeant Grayson shakes his muzzle. "The sentient says there hasn't been a ship parked here for several days. I could see the doors being circumvented, a small craft docks and takes off from here. It would mean he's still on Tatchit.

"You don't have any logs of who left?" Joe says. "Tell me, do you have any footage of anyone who arrived but never left the starport? Your sentient isn't all-powerful, if something small can slip through unnoticed, it's just as possible that something big came and went."

Epi folds his ears flat and looks at the ceiling. "Sentient."

A metallic voice responds from an indirect source. "Yes Lieutenant Epi. What may I be of service to you?"

"Index a list of all beings who arrived but never left."

"Index complete," is the near-instant response.

"Eliminate all substantiated station personnel and ship rosters, including crew and passengers.

"Operation complete. The list you have requested has been reduced to two individuals, one of which is standing next to you."

"Show me the second, send all footage to my wetware," he pauses. "To all three of us."

Joe's wetware indicates inbound comms, visual footage attached. He shuts his eyes to watch, the airlock door opens and in walks a huge white Siberian Husky Rhenthar. The footage ceases abruptly, and his wetware indicates it's only 68 frames. "Sweet Jesus..."

The two Rhenthar standing near him are engrossed with their wetware, mumbling and darting their eyes around. Joe decides now isn't the time to interrupt them. He feels insignificant, helpless.

Joe nods to himself. He needs help.

Behind Yellow Eyes: Chapter 12

Chapter 12. I'm leading Sinclair to my quarters, basically my bedroom. I have his paw in my own, and half my dick is sticking out of my sheath, it's bunched down around my swollen knot. The parasite is apparently very hungry, and I'm having a hard...

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Behind Yellow Eyes: Chapter 10

Chapter 10. Marcus looks around as he's forcefully walked out of the storage closet, desperate to recognize someone familiar. Mist's paw almost completely encircles his neck, and he has no doubt that he could break it if he wants to. Terror picks...

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Behind Yellow Eyes: Chapter 9

Chapter 9. We're standing on the tarmac, it's hot under my paws. Sin and Zach are discussing what to do next. Zach worked his magic on my mind, massaging my ears and whispering into them all the quiet words of assurance, about who I am and how...

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