Page 39 of Yasmin and the Yeti
The camouflage was impressive, designed to fool both eyes and sensors. But it couldn’t fool a Hothian’s instincts. This was a disguise rather than a barrier—meant to hide activity rather than prevent access.
He examined the seam more carefully. There was no obvious locking mechanism, which meant it likely opened from the inside or via remote control. But the edges weren’t perfectly sealed. There was a gap, barely wide enough for his claws.
He wedged his claws into the crack and pulled. The false rock face resisted at first, then gave way with a soft hiss of hydraulics. A dark passage opened before him, sloping downward into the mountain.
He slipped inside, letting the door close behind him. The passage was lit with dim, recessed lighting—an offworlder tunnel, reinforced with metal supports. It descended at a steady angle, heading deeper into the mountain’s heart.
As he followed it, a terrible suspicion began to form in his mind. He calculated the tunnel’s direction and realized with growing horror where it must lead.
His pace quickened. The tunnel branched several times, but he followed the main path, guided by the strengthening chemical smell and the sound of distant machinery. Finally, the passage opened into a larger space—and his worst fears were confirmed.
The tunnel had cut directly through the sacred burial grounds. Ancient cairns had been carelessly pushed aside or destroyed entirely to make way for the excavation. And there, in the center of what had once been hallowed ground, stood a sterile, white-walled laboratory complex.
He froze, his vision bleeding red at the edges. This was desecration beyond imagining. The ancestors’ rest disturbed, their graves treated as mere obstacles to be removed.
Ayla’s grave.
Had they destroyed his sister’s resting place as well? The fury that rose in him was so intense it was nearly blinding. He wanted to tear the facility apart with his bare hands, to rip the throats from whoever had committed this atrocity.
But beneath the rage was a cold, calculating awareness. He needed to understand what they were doing here before he acted.
He moved silently along the edge of the excavation, using the shadows and his natural camouflage to avoid detection. The lab complex was larger than it had first appeared, with multiple connected structures. Through windows, he could see offworlders in white coats moving about, tending to equipment.
One building had a large bay door standing open. He approached cautiously, keeping to the shadows. Inside, he found racks of samples—plants, rocks, and sealed containers of water. And fish. Dozens of tanks containing specimens of the cave fish in various stages of health and decay.
Their purpose was all too clear. They weren’t here for minerals or metals. They were hunting the source of sothiti itself. And they had desecrated his sister’s grave to do it.
The Empire’s protection came at a price—the sothiti his people provided. But if someone else found a way to produce it, the Empire would no longer need the Hothians. The protection would end. His people would be vulnerable.
A door opened at the far end of the lab. He melted into the shadows behind a large storage container as two offworlders entered—a Kaisarian in an expensive-looking uniform and a shorter male with orange fur wearing a lab coat.
“I need results, Doctor, not excuses,” the Kaisarian was saying, his voice sharp with impatience. “My employer grows tired of waiting. Either isolate the compound or pack up this operation.”
“It’s not that simple,” the other male protested. “We know the source originates here but we don’t know exactly how. We’re making progress, but?—”
“Progress doesn’t fill quotas,” the Kaisarian cut him off. “You have two weeks. After that, we find someone more competent.”
He turned on his heel and strode out, leaving the doctor staring after him with a mixture of frustration and fear.
“Bastard,” he muttered, turning to a nearby workstation. Another researcher joined him, a younger male with tired eyes.
“What now?” he asked.
“What do you think? We keep working.” He gestured to a row of tanks containing discolored water. “Get rid of those failed cultures. They’re taking up space we need.”
The younger researcher sighed. “Down the drain again? The ecosystem?—”
“Is not our concern,” he finished firmly. “The compound breaks down quickly in water. It’s harmless.”
Harmless.His claws extended involuntarily, digging into the metal container he hid behind. These offworlders were dumping their failed experiments directly into the underground river system. The very chemicals that were killing the fish, poisoning his people, and threatening Yasmin and their unborn cub.
He watched as the researcher reluctantly emptied tank after tank into a large drain in the floor—a drain that undoubtedly led to the Sunken River. One of the substances gave off a familiar bluish-green tint as it swirled away.
He’d seen enough. He knew now what was happening, who was responsible, and how they were doing it. He could not take on the entire facility alone—that would be suicide. But he had the knowledge his people needed.
And he had something else, something cold and hard crystallizing in his chest. A vow of vengeance. For the fish. For his people. For Yasmin and their cub.
For Ayla, whose rest had been disturbed by these invaders who saw sacred ground as mere rock in their way.
