the Guild Hall. If the shifters had been decent about her candidacy, she would have made a point of showering first, and shown up looking and smelling all nice and proper. But she was still angry about a group of teenage shifters who’d expressed their displeasure in a very aromatic way when she’d first made her intentions known. She’d already moved her living quarters into the city, renting a two-room apartment on the edge of town above a busy clothing shop. The teenage pranksters hadn’t dared pull their little stunt there, but her office was another matter.
They’d begun visiting the compound every day after dark, when no one was around to catch them, and using the ground just below her office window as their personal urinal. She’d stopped that practice short—quite literally. She’d installed a series of pressure plates along the outside of the building. The equipment was standard gear for planetary landings into unknown environments, usually part of a small perimeter set up to safeguard the human encampment against animal intrusion. The plates were designed to deliver a small, harmless, electrical shock, just enough to make the average indigenous life form decide it was too much trouble to keep going.
The sensitivity of the plate could be heightened, and the electrical jolt could be amped up, however, to accommodate larger and more dangerous animals. Put those two adjustments together and they were capable of producing a more, um…dramatic result.
She’d slept in her office the next night in order to monitor her security enhancements, and now she smiled, remembering the panicked shriek she’d heard when the first little pisser discovered his urine stream was highly conductive to electricity. The resulting arc had probably felt like his dick was being burned right off, and his yowl had given her the best laugh she’d had in a long time. Not that he suffered any permanent damage. She’d been careful about that. The asshole was probably peeing painlessly after just a few days. But not beneath her office window. Not anymore.
She left the shelter of the trees as the Guild Hall came into view, straddling the line between city and forest. Some of the trees here were far older than the building itself. Others were newly grown as if trying to reclaim the slender strip of land the Hall sat upon. It was the oldest construction in the city, dating back to the landing itself. Originally, it had served the colonists as a little of everything—hospital, school, administrative offices—and that early utilitarian history was reflected in the many smaller out-buildings huddled around the main lodge like chicks to a hen. If one knew where to look, there were even parts of the old colony ship to be seen in some of the exterior walls.
The central hall was a sprawling and disorganized two-story structure, its ancient wood stained a dark, reddish brown from centuries of weather and use. It had been patched and modified over the years to add windows and a covered porch that stretched nearly the full width of the building. The core of it was still original construction, a testament to the determination of those original colonists to remain on Harp for generations to come.
As she crossed the clearing and climbed the stairs to the old-fashioned screened door, she mopped her face with the sleeve of her tunic and caught a whiff of herself. She grinned. Nice and stinky, just like she’d planned. And shifters had such sensitive noses.
R hodry came out of his room at the Guild Hall barefoot, wearing a loose-fitting pair of drawstring pants. He was leading a long-distance hunt today, and wanted an early start. One of the Green’s worst predators, a long-haired primate known as a pongo, had been attacking the lumber camps throughout the forest. Pongos were big—as much as six feet tall when standing upright, and two hundred pounds of muscle. They were like banshees on steroids, but they usually traveled alone, and their
They’d begun visiting the compound every day after dark, when no one was around to catch them, and using the ground just below her office window as their personal urinal. She’d stopped that practice short—quite literally. She’d installed a series of pressure plates along the outside of the building. The equipment was standard gear for planetary landings into unknown environments, usually part of a small perimeter set up to safeguard the human encampment against animal intrusion. The plates were designed to deliver a small, harmless, electrical shock, just enough to make the average indigenous life form decide it was too much trouble to keep going.
The sensitivity of the plate could be heightened, and the electrical jolt could be amped up, however, to accommodate larger and more dangerous animals. Put those two adjustments together and they were capable of producing a more, um…dramatic result.
She’d slept in her office the next night in order to monitor her security enhancements, and now she smiled, remembering the panicked shriek she’d heard when the first little pisser discovered his urine stream was highly conductive to electricity. The resulting arc had probably felt like his dick was being burned right off, and his yowl had given her the best laugh she’d had in a long time. Not that he suffered any permanent damage. She’d been careful about that. The asshole was probably peeing painlessly after just a few days. But not beneath her office window. Not anymore.
She left the shelter of the trees as the Guild Hall came into view, straddling the line between city and forest. Some of the trees here were far older than the building itself. Others were newly grown as if trying to reclaim the slender strip of land the Hall sat upon. It was the oldest construction in the city, dating back to the landing itself. Originally, it had served the colonists as a little of everything—hospital, school, administrative offices—and that early utilitarian history was reflected in the many smaller out-buildings huddled around the main lodge like chicks to a hen. If one knew where to look, there were even parts of the old colony ship to be seen in some of the exterior walls.
The central hall was a sprawling and disorganized two-story structure, its ancient wood stained a dark, reddish brown from centuries of weather and use. It had been patched and modified over the years to add windows and a covered porch that stretched nearly the full width of the building. The core of it was still original construction, a testament to the determination of those original colonists to remain on Harp for generations to come.
As she crossed the clearing and climbed the stairs to the old-fashioned screened door, she mopped her face with the sleeve of her tunic and caught a whiff of herself. She grinned. Nice and stinky, just like she’d planned. And shifters had such sensitive noses.
R hodry came out of his room at the Guild Hall barefoot, wearing a loose-fitting pair of drawstring pants. He was leading a long-distance hunt today, and wanted an early start. One of the Green’s worst predators, a long-haired primate known as a pongo, had been attacking the lumber camps throughout the forest. Pongos were big—as much as six feet tall when standing upright, and two hundred pounds of muscle. They were like banshees on steroids, but they usually traveled alone, and their
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