M’krah Manor
Kruq’nov stood again on the balcony, overlooking his city. It was quite bustling today; Kilrathi and slaves alike running various errands. He scowled each time he picked out the thin, tall form of a Terran. No matter how often he snarled and growled, the Matriarch slapped down his complaints. She also barred him from aiding in rallying the Prides. She voiced her—concerns over his diplomatic ability. He had to admit Gherelith had a point there. Kruq’nov was a warrior not a talker. Leading the war would be no problem for him; leading the peace—that was best left to the females.
Of all the aspects of the alliance with the Mercher, the Mercher Kings bothered him the most. There were two of them, and like Kruq’nov and Nrsah both were veterans. Unlike them, they were high-and-mighty officers. The oldest of them, Knarthi was commander of a squadron. Kruq’nov wondered how a pair of fighter pilots managed to land themselves on Ghorah Khar. Nrsah suggested it was the same way they had; simply up and left.
If they managed to desert the space force, then they were truly stealthy warriors. The only reason Kruq’nov got away with desertion was because the infallible Emperor, may Sivar use him as a scratching post, effectively abandoned all the warriors on that dead world. The records of those dead would lay forever unknown. There was nothing like being discarded like a broken tool to scare a warrior’s pride.
Kruq’nov’s ears shot up at the sound of padded feet and claws upon the floor. “How goes the rallying?”
“Slow and painful.” It was an answer he would expect from Nrsah, not one of the Pride females.
Kruq’nov looked over his shoulder and purred in delight as Keitcha walked up towards the railing. “Surely the vassals would listen to one with your charm.”
Keitcha purred back. “Not all of our race holds me in such high esteem. You should be careful, Kruq’nov, before you elevate me beyond your own reach.”
Kruq’nov stroked his mane thoughtfully. “A tough choice; to keep you or grant you the honors deserving of such a magnificent female.”
Keitcha marveled at the warrior-turned-poet. No other male showed such consideration towards her or any of her Pride. Other Kings looked upon her only as a means of propagation. He treated her sisters, aunts and cousins with similar respect, but his favoritism was obvious to all. “To answer your question, rallying our vassals isn’t as easy as you might think. They might own us homage, but they are not warriors to be commanded. We must tread carefully, for we known not which Prides are fully loyal to us and which would turn on us to gain favor with the Shrekhar.”
The more Kruq’nov heard of politics the more it sounded like fighting the Apes. Nothing was simple or direct, and everything was laden with traps. That was not even the worst part. “You know what I dislike most of this? The waiting. I know I must be patient, but I also know the longer we wait the stronger our enemy’s position grows. Ever since the Kilrah landed I have heard nothing but bad news. Good news would be a nice change of pace.”
“Then I shall grant your wish,” she said as she nuzzled against his man. “I shall bear your children within a Kahrik. Tests say there will be one male and one female. You shouldn’t look so surprised.”
Kruq’nov returned her nuzzle. “I’m surprised it took this long.” With two of Keitcha’s cousins already carrying his offspring, Kruq’nov was starting to wonder if there was something wrong with him. It could not be the females, for Nrsah had no problem with the younger females. “Indeed, that is excellent news.” It was gave him one more reason to tread with caution and patience.
Kruq’nov eyed the saloon full of Kings and rogue males with suspicion. He gathered those males in M’krah that he could trust. Or at least trust as far as he could any male that was neither brother nor son. Nrsah stood to his left, eyeing the crowd of males with equal suspicion. Of all the Kings in the room, he was by far the youngest. His scruffy excuse for a mane put to shame by those of the older males. A few of them eyed Nrsah with a mixture of respect and envy. They had respect for both of the M’krah Kings for their combat on Repleetah and for them toppling the unpopular former Kings. Envy because they all remembered what it was like to that age, and to have no prospect of claiming a Pride of their own.
The rogue males, those males without Prides, eyed all of the Kings with deep scrutiny. Kruq’nov had no doubt that the rogues with full manes were searching for weaknesses. The last thing his Pride wanted was in fighting inside the city. Kruq’nov did not want to tell them to hold off on their own ambitions until the crisis was over. That was the sort of thing a noble would do; only when they said it, the crisis never ended. Instead, he reminded the rogues that when the battle was over and many of the enemy dead, there would be Kingless Prides in the Shrekhar camp waiting to be claimed.
There were other males in the city that would join the fight, but neither of the brothers trusted them. The Shrekhar placed spies everywhere, and an unfamiliar face was a danger. Kruq’nov knew all of these males. He shared drinks with plenty of them, regaling them with stories of war. Most of them walked away disappointed. They expected the eternal battle upon Repleetah II to be one of endless glory, not endless sitting in trenches and killing vermin.
“If we can have some silence!” Kruq’nov roared over the chatter. Gradually the conversations died down and all eyes were upon him. If he ever reacted that slowly to an officer, Kruq’nov would have had the whole roof brought down on his head. How on Kilrah was he supposed to maintain order and discipline? “We all know why we’re here. The Shrekhar are building their own army, and the M’krah needs one too.”
The males muttered briefly, mostly in agreement. A few of the rogue would not mind seeing Kruq’nov and Nrsah fall. Respected or not, their position was a coveted one. One of the rogues, a male by the name of Kra’nor stood. “So, what’s with all the talk? If the Shrekhar and their vassals come, we’ll fight.” Most of the males loudly agreed. Kra’nor served in one of the army’s raider battalions. The only fighting he ever saw was in the form of raids.
“That’s been the attitude of the nobles for more than seven Shrik, and we’re still at war with the bloody Apes.” It was not a whole truth, but the sentiment sunk in with the crowd. Anyone who served in the army knew that the Empire imposed draconic discipline upon its warriors. It was the only means to keep order. Because of that necessity, the Eight and the Kilrah were widely hated. Was Kruq’nov headed down the same path? He would have to be ruthless to forge an army—doubly so if any warriors were in it against their will.
“Kruq’nov speaks the truth,” Raglar nar Merusk snapped at Kra’nor. He was another army veteran, one who did fought extensively in the Enigma Sector. “If we attack in piece-meal, we lose.”
“And what are we supposed to do?” Kra’nor wondered. “Submit our wills to the M’krah Pride, like they were nobility?”
Kruq’nov flashed his teeth in annoyance. He heard Nrsah hissed his own response. He glanced over at his younger brother, warning him not to act recklessly. “The Shrekhar are trying to repress the city of Mercher. Sooner or later, they will try the same with our city. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I came to Ghorah Khar to get away from tyranny.”
“With all due respect Lord Kruq’nov, how is what the M’krah are doing any different?” asked Shar’eik the Tanner. The males gathered in Kruq’nov favorite saloon were a mix of battle-hardened veterans, low combat experience and civilians.
“Because no one will be forced to serve.” Kruq’nov looked out into the crowd, making eye contact with every male as he spoke. “Any of you who do not wish to follow the M’krah Pride may leave now. I will not force you into servitude. If you wish to preserve the freedom that living on the frontier allows, then fight.” Kruq’nov paused and waited. None of the assembled males made any attempt to leave. “What I ask now, is that you find other males who want to fight for their freedom and recruit them to our cause.”
“That sounds like rebellion,” one of the male hissed. Kruq’nov could not catch which one.
“Perhaps it is,” Raglar agreed. “But with the Empire already locked in war with the Apes, how much could they spare to attack us?”
Kruq’nov kept silent. They knew nothing of the crystals. At most, the assembled males knew the Kilrah took a vested interest in some land over in Mercher territory. Those crystals were the closest kept secret Kruq’nov ever encountered. Just knowing what was mined made him an expert. He only regretted not knowing what they were for. How would these males react when they learned he kept the secret? He hoped they would be understanding, but understanding was not a strong trait in Kilrathi warriors.
-----------------------
“He’s still here,” Nrsah hissed as he scanned the warehouse. “I can smell him.”
Kruq’nov stepped forwards from the shadows and stomped into the crowded warehouse. The place was poorly organized, with crates stacked without order and pallets placed in whatever location was free at the time. It was an excellent place to hide, if one happened to be a species that depended primarily on sight. There were plenty of places to hide. It clearly never crossed the Ape’s mind that Kilrathi navigate by more than site. Had the Ape chosen a warehouse full of food, then perhaps he would stand a chance. Inside a warehouse full of industrial equipment he was as good as cornered.
Kruq’nov had to admit the genius behind the Shrekhar move. None of the Pride females ever would have thought of using a slave as a spy. Was this Ape a volunteer, or had the Shrekhar managed to program him to be a spy? Kruq’nov had no way of knowing. His own source, a disgraced Ki’ra, either did not know or was not telling. Seeing how his birth Pride and its Commission were master spies, it was hardly surprising if Khrath kept silent.
The Shrekhar might even have succeeded in learning of M’krah aims had the spy not made himself too obvious. Most Kilrathi had difficulty telling one Ape from another. Sure, there were obvious differences between entire sub-divisions of the species, usually in the form of various coloration, but their faces were all the same. Kruq’nov might have missed the spy had his brother not asked him if that Ape looked familiar. The spy had trailed them for two days, learning their secrets. He might even have listened in on the rally in the saloon.
In the past several days, males of the city dispatched several informants. The drying up of the river of knowledge would not remain unnoticed for long. Sooner or later, the new governors of Ghorah Khar are going to wonder what happened. If they were not already suspicious of the M’krah, then they were fools. After what the Shrekhar are trying to do to the Mercher became public knowledge, how could the third large Pride on Ghorah Khar do nothing?
Kruq’nov exchanged a glance with Nrsah. With a gesture of his hand, he ordered him to split off in the opposite direction. The warehouse had only a limited number of exits, all of which were guarded by males known to be loyal. Kruq’nov gave them instruction to kill any Ape that left the building and to detain any Kilrathi. It was possible the spy would pass on his information here. If so, then killing him would do little good aside from sate Kruq’nov frustration.
After passing two cluttered rows of pallets, Kruq’nov paused. His ear perked up as the distinct clomp of shoes on concrete echoed through the warehouse. The Ape was trying to be quiet, but his best was a joke. This slave obvious was never a soldier. A veteran Terran soldier could easily hide in this warehouse. If Kruq’nov thought the spy was a former soldier, he might have ordered the warehouse torched. One skilled Ape could claim the lives of many Kilrathi.
Aeon old hunting instincts overtook Kruq’nov. He crouched down on all fours and began to slink through the warehouse like his prehistoric ancestors would slide through the long grasses of Kilrah. Many times on Repleetah, Kruq’nov watched as new recruits charged over the top and ran across no-man’s land on all fours. Each time the rookies stumbled into the same trap. It was a charge that worked well against unarmed prey. Kruq’nov hoped the slave was unarmed. The Shrekhar are many things, but they have not proven to be stupid. Only a fool would give a gun to an animal.
Using scent and sound, Kruq’nov stalked his prey. The Ape was afraid. The smell of terror in their species was not as familiar as he would like. Armed Terran soldiers were seldom terrified. Only when death came upon them without warning could Kruq’nov smell their fear. The spy’s reaction puzzled Kruq’nov. Were they like this naturally? He never faced an Ape civilian before and their soldiers did not show fear. At least not the kind that would claim one’s sanity. If any soldier did not feel the apprehension of the unknown while in combat, then they were not paying close enough attention.
Kruq’nov poked his head around a corner and spotted the spy on one of the shelves. Just like an ape, the Ape was trying to reach higher ground. Perhaps he thought he could hide. No, his fate was sealed the moment he opened the warehouse door. Kruq’nov wasted no time in finishing him. He charged forward at full speed and threw himself in the air. The Ape had just enough time to turn his head to see a flash of hair and claws before he died. Kilrathi and Terran crashed to the ground. Kruq’nov pushed himself upright and looked down at the dead slave. With a flick of his wrist, he ripped the slave’s throat out.
“Did you find him?” Nrsah’s voice filled his ear.
Kruq’nov pushed the transmit button on his headset. “Whatever gave you that idea?”
“I don’t know,” Nrsah replied casually. “Perhaps the blood-curling scream that was abruptly cut off.”
“I got him,” Kruq’nov admitted. He growled as he looked down at the dead slave. Clutched in his cold, dead hand was a small optronic device. “It appears he has a radio.” Was he carrying that the whole time, or was it stashed in the warehouse? The latter would make sense; why else would he trap himself?
Nrsah snarled a string of curses that would have done his drill instructor proud. “Did he use it?”
Kruq’nov pried the device from his tiny hand. It was a simply device; the only obvious control was a single button. He assumed it was the transmit button. “No way of knowing.”
“We better take it back home and have one of the females look it over,” Nrsah suggested.
Kruq’nov bared his teeth at the suggestion. Great, and now the Matriarch is going to want to know what he was doing with it. She would not be pleased to learn of Kruq’nov’s little purges. “Very well, but I don’t think it’ll matter. The Shrekhar will know their spies are dead soon enough.” As soon as that happened, the Pride Kings would have their work cut out for them.
Kruq’nov stood again on the balcony, overlooking his city. It was quite bustling today; Kilrathi and slaves alike running various errands. He scowled each time he picked out the thin, tall form of a Terran. No matter how often he snarled and growled, the Matriarch slapped down his complaints. She also barred him from aiding in rallying the Prides. She voiced her—concerns over his diplomatic ability. He had to admit Gherelith had a point there. Kruq’nov was a warrior not a talker. Leading the war would be no problem for him; leading the peace—that was best left to the females.
Of all the aspects of the alliance with the Mercher, the Mercher Kings bothered him the most. There were two of them, and like Kruq’nov and Nrsah both were veterans. Unlike them, they were high-and-mighty officers. The oldest of them, Knarthi was commander of a squadron. Kruq’nov wondered how a pair of fighter pilots managed to land themselves on Ghorah Khar. Nrsah suggested it was the same way they had; simply up and left.
If they managed to desert the space force, then they were truly stealthy warriors. The only reason Kruq’nov got away with desertion was because the infallible Emperor, may Sivar use him as a scratching post, effectively abandoned all the warriors on that dead world. The records of those dead would lay forever unknown. There was nothing like being discarded like a broken tool to scare a warrior’s pride.
Kruq’nov’s ears shot up at the sound of padded feet and claws upon the floor. “How goes the rallying?”
“Slow and painful.” It was an answer he would expect from Nrsah, not one of the Pride females.
Kruq’nov looked over his shoulder and purred in delight as Keitcha walked up towards the railing. “Surely the vassals would listen to one with your charm.”
Keitcha purred back. “Not all of our race holds me in such high esteem. You should be careful, Kruq’nov, before you elevate me beyond your own reach.”
Kruq’nov stroked his mane thoughtfully. “A tough choice; to keep you or grant you the honors deserving of such a magnificent female.”
Keitcha marveled at the warrior-turned-poet. No other male showed such consideration towards her or any of her Pride. Other Kings looked upon her only as a means of propagation. He treated her sisters, aunts and cousins with similar respect, but his favoritism was obvious to all. “To answer your question, rallying our vassals isn’t as easy as you might think. They might own us homage, but they are not warriors to be commanded. We must tread carefully, for we known not which Prides are fully loyal to us and which would turn on us to gain favor with the Shrekhar.”
The more Kruq’nov heard of politics the more it sounded like fighting the Apes. Nothing was simple or direct, and everything was laden with traps. That was not even the worst part. “You know what I dislike most of this? The waiting. I know I must be patient, but I also know the longer we wait the stronger our enemy’s position grows. Ever since the Kilrah landed I have heard nothing but bad news. Good news would be a nice change of pace.”
“Then I shall grant your wish,” she said as she nuzzled against his man. “I shall bear your children within a Kahrik. Tests say there will be one male and one female. You shouldn’t look so surprised.”
Kruq’nov returned her nuzzle. “I’m surprised it took this long.” With two of Keitcha’s cousins already carrying his offspring, Kruq’nov was starting to wonder if there was something wrong with him. It could not be the females, for Nrsah had no problem with the younger females. “Indeed, that is excellent news.” It was gave him one more reason to tread with caution and patience.
Kruq’nov eyed the saloon full of Kings and rogue males with suspicion. He gathered those males in M’krah that he could trust. Or at least trust as far as he could any male that was neither brother nor son. Nrsah stood to his left, eyeing the crowd of males with equal suspicion. Of all the Kings in the room, he was by far the youngest. His scruffy excuse for a mane put to shame by those of the older males. A few of them eyed Nrsah with a mixture of respect and envy. They had respect for both of the M’krah Kings for their combat on Repleetah and for them toppling the unpopular former Kings. Envy because they all remembered what it was like to that age, and to have no prospect of claiming a Pride of their own.
The rogue males, those males without Prides, eyed all of the Kings with deep scrutiny. Kruq’nov had no doubt that the rogues with full manes were searching for weaknesses. The last thing his Pride wanted was in fighting inside the city. Kruq’nov did not want to tell them to hold off on their own ambitions until the crisis was over. That was the sort of thing a noble would do; only when they said it, the crisis never ended. Instead, he reminded the rogues that when the battle was over and many of the enemy dead, there would be Kingless Prides in the Shrekhar camp waiting to be claimed.
There were other males in the city that would join the fight, but neither of the brothers trusted them. The Shrekhar placed spies everywhere, and an unfamiliar face was a danger. Kruq’nov knew all of these males. He shared drinks with plenty of them, regaling them with stories of war. Most of them walked away disappointed. They expected the eternal battle upon Repleetah II to be one of endless glory, not endless sitting in trenches and killing vermin.
“If we can have some silence!” Kruq’nov roared over the chatter. Gradually the conversations died down and all eyes were upon him. If he ever reacted that slowly to an officer, Kruq’nov would have had the whole roof brought down on his head. How on Kilrah was he supposed to maintain order and discipline? “We all know why we’re here. The Shrekhar are building their own army, and the M’krah needs one too.”
The males muttered briefly, mostly in agreement. A few of the rogue would not mind seeing Kruq’nov and Nrsah fall. Respected or not, their position was a coveted one. One of the rogues, a male by the name of Kra’nor stood. “So, what’s with all the talk? If the Shrekhar and their vassals come, we’ll fight.” Most of the males loudly agreed. Kra’nor served in one of the army’s raider battalions. The only fighting he ever saw was in the form of raids.
“That’s been the attitude of the nobles for more than seven Shrik, and we’re still at war with the bloody Apes.” It was not a whole truth, but the sentiment sunk in with the crowd. Anyone who served in the army knew that the Empire imposed draconic discipline upon its warriors. It was the only means to keep order. Because of that necessity, the Eight and the Kilrah were widely hated. Was Kruq’nov headed down the same path? He would have to be ruthless to forge an army—doubly so if any warriors were in it against their will.
“Kruq’nov speaks the truth,” Raglar nar Merusk snapped at Kra’nor. He was another army veteran, one who did fought extensively in the Enigma Sector. “If we attack in piece-meal, we lose.”
“And what are we supposed to do?” Kra’nor wondered. “Submit our wills to the M’krah Pride, like they were nobility?”
Kruq’nov flashed his teeth in annoyance. He heard Nrsah hissed his own response. He glanced over at his younger brother, warning him not to act recklessly. “The Shrekhar are trying to repress the city of Mercher. Sooner or later, they will try the same with our city. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I came to Ghorah Khar to get away from tyranny.”
“With all due respect Lord Kruq’nov, how is what the M’krah are doing any different?” asked Shar’eik the Tanner. The males gathered in Kruq’nov favorite saloon were a mix of battle-hardened veterans, low combat experience and civilians.
“Because no one will be forced to serve.” Kruq’nov looked out into the crowd, making eye contact with every male as he spoke. “Any of you who do not wish to follow the M’krah Pride may leave now. I will not force you into servitude. If you wish to preserve the freedom that living on the frontier allows, then fight.” Kruq’nov paused and waited. None of the assembled males made any attempt to leave. “What I ask now, is that you find other males who want to fight for their freedom and recruit them to our cause.”
“That sounds like rebellion,” one of the male hissed. Kruq’nov could not catch which one.
“Perhaps it is,” Raglar agreed. “But with the Empire already locked in war with the Apes, how much could they spare to attack us?”
Kruq’nov kept silent. They knew nothing of the crystals. At most, the assembled males knew the Kilrah took a vested interest in some land over in Mercher territory. Those crystals were the closest kept secret Kruq’nov ever encountered. Just knowing what was mined made him an expert. He only regretted not knowing what they were for. How would these males react when they learned he kept the secret? He hoped they would be understanding, but understanding was not a strong trait in Kilrathi warriors.
-----------------------
“He’s still here,” Nrsah hissed as he scanned the warehouse. “I can smell him.”
Kruq’nov stepped forwards from the shadows and stomped into the crowded warehouse. The place was poorly organized, with crates stacked without order and pallets placed in whatever location was free at the time. It was an excellent place to hide, if one happened to be a species that depended primarily on sight. There were plenty of places to hide. It clearly never crossed the Ape’s mind that Kilrathi navigate by more than site. Had the Ape chosen a warehouse full of food, then perhaps he would stand a chance. Inside a warehouse full of industrial equipment he was as good as cornered.
Kruq’nov had to admit the genius behind the Shrekhar move. None of the Pride females ever would have thought of using a slave as a spy. Was this Ape a volunteer, or had the Shrekhar managed to program him to be a spy? Kruq’nov had no way of knowing. His own source, a disgraced Ki’ra, either did not know or was not telling. Seeing how his birth Pride and its Commission were master spies, it was hardly surprising if Khrath kept silent.
The Shrekhar might even have succeeded in learning of M’krah aims had the spy not made himself too obvious. Most Kilrathi had difficulty telling one Ape from another. Sure, there were obvious differences between entire sub-divisions of the species, usually in the form of various coloration, but their faces were all the same. Kruq’nov might have missed the spy had his brother not asked him if that Ape looked familiar. The spy had trailed them for two days, learning their secrets. He might even have listened in on the rally in the saloon.
In the past several days, males of the city dispatched several informants. The drying up of the river of knowledge would not remain unnoticed for long. Sooner or later, the new governors of Ghorah Khar are going to wonder what happened. If they were not already suspicious of the M’krah, then they were fools. After what the Shrekhar are trying to do to the Mercher became public knowledge, how could the third large Pride on Ghorah Khar do nothing?
Kruq’nov exchanged a glance with Nrsah. With a gesture of his hand, he ordered him to split off in the opposite direction. The warehouse had only a limited number of exits, all of which were guarded by males known to be loyal. Kruq’nov gave them instruction to kill any Ape that left the building and to detain any Kilrathi. It was possible the spy would pass on his information here. If so, then killing him would do little good aside from sate Kruq’nov frustration.
After passing two cluttered rows of pallets, Kruq’nov paused. His ear perked up as the distinct clomp of shoes on concrete echoed through the warehouse. The Ape was trying to be quiet, but his best was a joke. This slave obvious was never a soldier. A veteran Terran soldier could easily hide in this warehouse. If Kruq’nov thought the spy was a former soldier, he might have ordered the warehouse torched. One skilled Ape could claim the lives of many Kilrathi.
Aeon old hunting instincts overtook Kruq’nov. He crouched down on all fours and began to slink through the warehouse like his prehistoric ancestors would slide through the long grasses of Kilrah. Many times on Repleetah, Kruq’nov watched as new recruits charged over the top and ran across no-man’s land on all fours. Each time the rookies stumbled into the same trap. It was a charge that worked well against unarmed prey. Kruq’nov hoped the slave was unarmed. The Shrekhar are many things, but they have not proven to be stupid. Only a fool would give a gun to an animal.
Using scent and sound, Kruq’nov stalked his prey. The Ape was afraid. The smell of terror in their species was not as familiar as he would like. Armed Terran soldiers were seldom terrified. Only when death came upon them without warning could Kruq’nov smell their fear. The spy’s reaction puzzled Kruq’nov. Were they like this naturally? He never faced an Ape civilian before and their soldiers did not show fear. At least not the kind that would claim one’s sanity. If any soldier did not feel the apprehension of the unknown while in combat, then they were not paying close enough attention.
Kruq’nov poked his head around a corner and spotted the spy on one of the shelves. Just like an ape, the Ape was trying to reach higher ground. Perhaps he thought he could hide. No, his fate was sealed the moment he opened the warehouse door. Kruq’nov wasted no time in finishing him. He charged forward at full speed and threw himself in the air. The Ape had just enough time to turn his head to see a flash of hair and claws before he died. Kilrathi and Terran crashed to the ground. Kruq’nov pushed himself upright and looked down at the dead slave. With a flick of his wrist, he ripped the slave’s throat out.
“Did you find him?” Nrsah’s voice filled his ear.
Kruq’nov pushed the transmit button on his headset. “Whatever gave you that idea?”
“I don’t know,” Nrsah replied casually. “Perhaps the blood-curling scream that was abruptly cut off.”
“I got him,” Kruq’nov admitted. He growled as he looked down at the dead slave. Clutched in his cold, dead hand was a small optronic device. “It appears he has a radio.” Was he carrying that the whole time, or was it stashed in the warehouse? The latter would make sense; why else would he trap himself?
Nrsah snarled a string of curses that would have done his drill instructor proud. “Did he use it?”
Kruq’nov pried the device from his tiny hand. It was a simply device; the only obvious control was a single button. He assumed it was the transmit button. “No way of knowing.”
“We better take it back home and have one of the females look it over,” Nrsah suggested.
Kruq’nov bared his teeth at the suggestion. Great, and now the Matriarch is going to want to know what he was doing with it. She would not be pleased to learn of Kruq’nov’s little purges. “Very well, but I don’t think it’ll matter. The Shrekhar will know their spies are dead soon enough.” As soon as that happened, the Pride Kings would have their work cut out for them.