Young Writers Society

The scientist snapped his fingers, and one of his lackeys handed him a spray bottle. He spritzed it into the air experimentally, staring straight into Cyra's eyes. "You will stay still, or we'll be forced to resort to harsher methods."

Meanwhile, Sage was pouting, but obediently sitting on the chair. She examined the material it was made of. "Seems like metal, but the luster isn't quite like steel. It has some warmth to it. Hmm."

Cyra growled. “You wouldn’t fucking dare.”

Water. Because of course if Cyra had been dropped into a planet where no one knew of the Subterran fatal weakness, it had to be revealed almost immediately. Because Cyra, who could easily rip every single person in here in half in half a minute, just had to be killed by water. And that guard would dare. Just like the guards back at home dared too.

Sage got up and peeked under the chair, trying to determine if there were any advanced mechanisms in it. Nothing. But ooh, one could see so much more from a lower viewpoint, like that red button on one leg of the table where the subterra was lying.

One of the scientists forcibly fixed Sage’s position. “I said stay still.”

Cyra glared at the scientist with the water, wishing more than anything they could lunge and tear this man’s throat out.

The man gave Cyra a cold smile. "Now then. Someone get a sample of the creature's skin, and whatever liquid runs through its veins."

A couple of assistants scrambled to obey. Sage's eyes widened. The way the man referred to the person as "it" was starting to worry her.

Cyra snorted. “It’s been awhile since someone’s called me an it. Most don’t have the fortitude. So I’ll give you that.”

They sneered. “And what the hell do you mean by a sample?”

The man just turned to a sleek device that looked a bit like a holo-computer and started typing away. A couple scientists approached Cyra with a scraper and a needle and test tubes.

Sage bit her lip, wondering if pressing the red button would do anything useful.

Cyra scoffed. "No metal will work on my skin if you're trying to pierce it. Dumbass..."

"Oh? Does that mean crushing it will work, then?" The man looked up and arched an eyebrow.

Sage shivered at his cold tone. Suddenly, she had a desperate urge to get out of here, no matter how cool the gadgets might be. And she might as well help the subterra escape, too...

With uncharacteristic focus, she lunged for the red button.

Thick metal restraints rose from the table, locking around Cyra's wrists, ankles, and neck. He growled. "What the hell?"

They glared at this stupid scientist. "Have you never heard of a subterra before? Do you know how we work, you stupid, stupid man?"

Oops. That hadn't gone as planned. Actually, Sage wasn't quite sure what she'd expected the red button to do, but she'd figured it'd be a good distraction... She slumped back onto the chair.

The man laughed, a sound that sounded rather wrong coming out of his mouth, as if he'd meant to growl instead. "Quite a personality, this one has. We must figure out how it works."

Cyra took a slow deep breath. "How have you lived on this Earth and never seen a subterra before? They're everywhere. And what do you mean, how I work?"

"It must be delusional, or severely misinformed," the man said, again with that not-a-laugh. "We're on Mars." A couple of scientists started attempting to scrap parts of Cyra's skin into a tray.

Sage's eyes widened. Mars? She knew she tended to wander off sometimes, but how had she dream-walked to another planet?

Cyra watched as the scrapper started to warp and bend. Subterran skin was a special kind of stone. Only one metal on Earth was strong enough to pierce it directly.

But… hold on… “Did you just fucking say we were on Mars?”

“Mmm.” The scientist frowned at the useless efforts to gather a sample. “Well. If it is indeed stone, perhaps we can try reacting it to determine its composition instead. Try HCl— we’ll test for calcite.”

Someone started pouring a clear liquid into a beaker.