SNAFU: Hunters

Nate Harris walked into the open bay door of the rundown warehouse without being stopped or challenged once. He gritted his teeth, irritated at the lax security, and wondered again if he wanted to get involved with this off-the-books unit.

Inside, he halted to get a good look around. Several well-used vehicles were parked on the right side of the large open space. At the back of the room were cots and makeshift dividers for some semblance of privacy. To the left stood tables loaded with computer equipment and other electronics. Two men, both in their late twenties or early thirties, were engrossed in the display before them. Behind them were two women, both seated and bent over one’s outstretched arm. As Harris crossed toward the ersatz command center, he watched the women, curious as to what they were doing. The thinner one with her arm held out was absolutely still, allowing him to see the intricate black tattoos that covered her brown skin. The other woman, more voluptuous and dressed in bright clothing, used some kind of device to lift and insert a glowing blue filament into the first woman’s outstretched forearm.

“I’m looking for T. Lane,” he said, and both men at the table looked up.

“Good, you’re here.” The man who spoke had a red tinge to his hair and beard, and direct blue eyes. “I was starting to wonder if you’d gotten lost.” He glanced at the man beside him, adding, “Get Rakehall on the line. Tell him we’re loading up.” He came around the laden tables then and said, “And the name is Tighe. You go by Nathan?”

Harris shook his head, nonplussed at the way this unit was run. “Nate, actually. You realize I got in here with no one even noticing.”

Tighe grinned. “Not likely.” He nodded back toward the open bay door as two cats sauntered in. They were similar in size to a leopard or cheetah, standing two-feet tall at the shoulder and over five feet in length, but resembled short-hair domestic cats. They were both sleek and muscular, the color of burnished pewter. When they looked at Harris, he saw their eyes were a vivid clear peridot in color. “Esfir and Faina, our sentries. They let us know you were coming when you were still half a mile out.”

“What are they?” Harris had worked some strange operations in his time, which was why he’d been recruited to this top-secret and autonomous unit; but he’d never seen anything like these cats.

“Special breed, out of far-eastern Russia. They’re called Cobalts, and they’re probably as smart as you and me.” While Tighe spoke, the two enormous felines padded toward the back of the warehouse where they were met by two girls. “Kai and Tchaz,” Tighe went on. “They’re with the Cobalts. You can get a formal introduction later.”

Harris nodded, dropping the pack he’d held on a strap over his shoulder. “So, where do you want me?”

“We’re heading out tonight, so don’t waste time unpacking,” Tighe said, leading him over to the two women who were still intent in their strange occupation. “This is Vida and Aio,” he said, and the women looked up. “Aio’s our biotech specialist. You have any problems with any implants she’s the one to talk to.”

Aio smiled, looking Harris up and down once with what might have been appreciation then went back to what she was doing.

“Vida’s our secret weapon. Stress on weapon,” Tighe went on, and laughed when the woman made an obscene gesture with her free hand. Her other hand gripped the arm of Aio’s chair tightly, muscles bunched in her arm as a glowing filament was carefully fed into her skin.

The blackline tattoos were stylized and intricate, and different sections glowed or faded with electric blue as Harris watched.

“As soon as they’re finished, we’ll start loading gear,” Tighe said. “Until then, you can read up on the mission. Questions will have to wait until later.” He pointed to a tablet lying on a table past where the women sat, then left Harris to his own devices.

“Rakehall and Sig are on their way back,” Vida said, her words directed to no one in particular. “That gives you less than half an hour.” She might have meant Harris’s reading assignment, or Aio’s delicate work on her arm.

As predicted, less than thirty minutes later the rest of the team arrived at the warehouse. Harris had skimmed the info on the tablet, making an effort not to make sounds of disbelief – it read more like science fiction than operational orders. From his peripheral vision he’d studied the women, Vida in particular. She appeared to be average height and weight with medium-brown skin between the multiple tattoos. Her black hair was braided to one side, revealing that it was shaved above her left ear. More of the ubiquitous tattoos traced the skin there. Her eyes, when she looked up, were a pale blue-grey, almost the same color as the Cobalt cats. Harris wondered what the ink and implants were for; he’d seen nothing about them in the document he was reading.