Aeson tightened his grip around the old man’s throat, clutching the fragile neck with hands hard as tiger’s jaws, ready to rip flesh. My co-commander threw back his head, shaking his mane of unkempt hair. A feline roar came from Aeson’s mouth, and a cry of crimson bloodlust echoed through the silver caverns, calling forth the thirsty spirits of the dead. Yellow Hare leaped from my side and kicked Aeson’s left arm, forcing him to release the old man’s neck. Aeson howled in animal pain and ducked behind the operating slab. Phan curled into a ball and gasped raggedly into his shaking hands. Aeson sprang up onto the balls of his feet, arms wide, ready to wrestle. The gold needles popped out of his limbs and neck and clattered to the floor. His eyes glowed bloodred, his pupils dilated, and his head jerked from side to side as if he could not see what was right in front of him. Yellow Hare circled around the slab, cautiously approaching her opponent. Her hands were held up in front of her armored chest, a boxer’s posture.
