Bounty hunter academy 2, p.14
Bounty Hunter Academy 2, page 14
I looked around for Tartrian myself, but I couldn’t see him either, and it wasn’t until the monster turned back around, leapt down from the displays and started back towards me that I realised why he might have suddenly disappeared.
“So this is what passes for human bounty hunter cadets these days?” the Vexaryx spat. “Cowards too afraid to fight and little girls too afraid to run.”
I swallowed, feeling the fear in my stomach intensify. As the Vexaryx drew near, the light caught on the many pointed barbs spread out all over its body. Which one(s) would I be impaled on? There was just no way of knowing.
“Once again,” said the outsider, its shadow falling over my ghostly white face, “fear has ruled the day. And only those who can listen to fear are imbued with the power to dictate the future. It is as if—”
The shot and the scream came at the same time. Glancing up at the ceiling, I saw that the expensive zip boots I had seen earlier on Tartrian’s feet weren’t just any ordinary zip boots.
They had built-in magnetic capabilities.
I remembered seeing the holo ad for a similar set of boots while riding the mag shuttle, and now here their counterparts were, pinning Tartrian to the ceiling while he unloaded his plug zapper into the creature’s forehead at close range. How he had got into that position, I had no idea, but he must have snuck around the back of the rows of consoles that lined the walls of the room. However he had done it, it wasn’t important. All that mattered was that the outsider’s concentration was wavering with every one of Tartrian’s well-placed shots.
Glancing over at Startide and Shade Brekum, I saw the tentacles of mist wrapped around their limbs give off an involuntary shudder at the exact moment the outsider screamed at the result of a direct hit to its weak spot. I waited, expecting the outsider to reach up and cover its weak spot, as it had done before, but the effect of the explosive shots was apparently so great that the outsider didn’t have the presence of mind to shield its forehead, and instead it merely flailed its claws wildly, like a blind man with a malfunctioning visionvisor.
Perhaps sensing the creature’s momentary weakness, Tartrian deactivated the magnetic setting on his zip boots and dropped from the ceiling. He spun in the air, moving in a way that would have made a zero-G gymnast dizzy, then he landed squarely on the creature’s chest. His zip boots gave off a gentle hum, and the Vexaryx fell backwards, slamming into the ground with a ferocious whack that reverberated around the entire skybox.
It was at that point that I realised just how deadly an adversary Tartrian Moonstorm really was, and how lucky I had been to secure his capture. The cunning, resourceful boy had reengaged the magnetic setting on his zip boots the moment the soles of his boots had come into contact with the outsider’s chest, and the force from the sudden magnetic charge had propelled the alien’s torso downwards before finally pinning it to the ground where it now lay helpless while Tartrian riddled the tiny hollow in the centre of its forehead with plug zapper fire.
The outsider’s shrieks intensified, and as I glanced over at the two bounty hunters shrouded in mist, I saw an arm break through the layer of white cloud.
Startide’s arm…
“Just a little bit more!” I yelled over the deafening sound of Tartrian’s weapon and the hideous wails of the outsider. “They’re almost free! They’re almost—”
The spikes came out of nowhere.
I remembered once seeing something about a fish discovered on an uncharted world that could shoot spikes out of its body whenever predators came too close for comfort. The defence mechanism built into the Vexaryx was of similar design, but the spikes were much, much longer, and when they drove through Tartrian’s body, they emerged out of his back, barely stopping short of the ceiling. Was this the warning Startide had tried to give us, before his mouth had been smothered by the incapacitating mist?
The spikes retracted back into the Vexaryx’s body, and with a wicked swipe of its arm, it swatted Tartrian aside. My onetime target flew across the room before crashing into a table projecting a holographic replica of the arena. The moment his body struck the table, the holograph flickered and disappeared, and the room became darker still.
The outsider and I watched Tartrian, and it was probably as surprised as I was when - somehow, some way - the Moonstorm child sat back up, his hand clutched over the largest of the holes in his chest.
He had no weapon. The plug zapper had fallen from his hand during the creature’s attack. But his eyes still shone with the promise of a ferocious fight, and he might have offered one, were it not for the fact that he was losing blood faster than he would have been if someone had attached his veins to an open tap.
Tartrian keeled over, landing face down on the floor. For a moment, he made a move to get up, and hope stirred in my heart, but then he collapsed into the steadily deepening pool of red spread out around his body.
He didn’t rise again.
“What frail bodies you humans have,” said the outsider, its claw rubbing at the holo in the centre of its forehead. In what little light remained, I could just make out the faintest of cracks down the centre of the hollow. How close had Tartrian come to breaking the creature’s concentration? He must have almost managed it, but as I looked round at Startide and Shade Brekum, the mist that had momentarily been loosened from their bodies now returned with a vengeance, smothering every inch of their helpless forms until they were little more than two cloud-covered statues.
“It’s a pity,” the Vexaryx continued. “With a bit of a proto-shell, you humans might actually make good fighters. Nothing at the level of a Vexaryx, but decent all the same.”
The outsider closed the distance between us. It was a short distance, but it felt like a lightyear. Then it was towering over me again, its yellow eyes gleaming with delight as its chest rose and fell with the excited breathing that no doubt came before making another kill.
The plug zapper rattled in my hand as I raised its barrel to point at the outsider.
“Take your best shot,” said the outsider. “Something tells me you’re not as good with that thing as your dead friend.”
My hand tightened around the weapon’s grip, and I urged myself to pull the trigger. The outsider was right. I was no match for Tartrian in a shooting contest, but I might get lucky, and how many more lucky hits would it take to break the outsider’s concentration? Judging from that tiny crack in the weak spot on its forehead, it might not have been many.
But even with that hope-bolstering knowledge, I still could not bring myself to fire the weapon. I was frozen, as I always was - as incapacitated by fear as Startide and Shade Brekum were by the outsider’s deadly tomb of mist.
With a disappointed frown, the outsider reached down and plucked the weapon from my feeble grasp. It inspected it for a moment, as if wondering how so small a weapon had caused it so much trouble, then it crunched the weapon in its hand, instantly causing a storm of explosions as the explosive ammo in the weapon was ignited. The flashes of light lit up the outsider’s ghastly visage, easily outdoing the scariest moment in any horror holomovie I had ever seen. When the explosions had died down, the outsider threw the destroyed weapon across the floor, and it came to a stop just short of Tartrian’s lifeless body.
“My employer could have saved a lot of interworld monetary tokens if they had chosen to use a cheaper assassin,” said the Vexaryx. “A Draxelian or a Smomnar would have had no trouble dealing with a task of this simplicity. But they wanted the best, and, in the end, I can’t fault them for that.”
I scowled at the mention of the wretch who had brought about the death of my fellow cadet, and presumably the deaths of at least two innocent bounty hunters.
“Who is your employer?” I asked.
The Vexaryx laughed, issuing the same mirthful chuckle I had heard coming from Slickersby back when I had no idea he was secretly an outsider sent to claim my life.
“What does it matter?” said the Vexaryx. “Even if I tell you, what are you going to do with that information? As far as I’m aware, humans can’t come back from the grave. Although I could be wrong. There’s very little known about your pathetic little species, aside from the fact that you’re about as insignificant as a tecomite scurrying across the underbelly of a starwhale.”
“Then you’ve no reason not to tell me,” I persisted.
The Vexaryx studied me for a long moment, its expression thoughtful. At the same time, I felt a chill around my legs, and I looked down to see the troublesome mist was beginning to pool around my feet.
“Alright,” said the Vexaryx, its yellow eyes gleaming wickedly. “I’ll tell you.”
I swallowed, trying hard to still the spine-shaking fear that was steadily permeating every corner of my body. Around my legs, I felt the coldness intensify as what felt like two coils of frost wrapped themselves around my legs. Whether the Vexaryx was trying to pin me down out of concern that it might have to run after me or whether it just wanted to turn up my own personal fear dial was unclear. Whatever the reason, I soon found myself firmly rooted to the spot, unable to move my legs, pelvis and lower torso. The mist, however, stopped short of entangling my arms - at least, for the present time.
“I was hired,” said the Vexaryx as it drew nearer to where I stood helpless, “by an Unumata called Loth.”
I frowned, trying to make sense of the idea. “An outsider hired you to kill me?”
“Not you, exactly. Rather, the thing inside you.”
I exhaled a heavy breath. “The Nyalinth.”
“That’s the one.”
“So that’s what this is all about? This…” I tried to recall the name of the alien race the Vexaryx had given.
“Unumata.”
“Unumata called Loth. He hired you to kill the Nyalinth.”
The Vexaryx nodded its horn-covered head. “That is correct.”
“But why? Why would he care about a helpless creature that went into hiding a long time ago?”
“I’m afraid I can’t say. We Vexaryx do not concern ourselves with reasons. We only concern ourselves with payment.” The Vexaryx drew near, the spikes on its body glistening with the promise of a violent death. “And now, the time has come for the terms of my contract with my client to be executed.”
I shuddered uncontrollably. The fear inside my body had grown so great that I felt in danger of exploding at any moment. I panted in short, erratic breaths, and I felt a chilling wetness as cold sweat drenched my jumpsuit.
The end was now so near that I could almost taste death.
And while the mist had not yet enveloped my entire body, and while others - I glanced at Tartrian - might have found a way to fight on, I found myself wishing for nothing more than a quick, painless death. It was a pathetic, cowardly hope, and I hated myself for it, but what else could I do?
Fear had a hold on me.
26
Chapter 26
Listen to the fear…
That was what the Vexaryx had said, back when we were together in the elevator, before it had pulled off Slickersby’s skin and revealed itself in all its terrifying glory.
Listen to the fear…
I listened.
I shut out the sounds of crackling electrical sparks, alarmed beeps and hissing coolant tubes emanating from the equipment around the skybox that had been wrecked during the Vexaryx’s rampage. I closed my eyes, shutting out the sight of the hideous creature, and soon I was in total darkness, with only myself…
And the fear.
I listened.
Breathing deeply, a steady calmness descended over my body. It did not replace the fear, but it seemed to alter it, like some chemical that, when added to another chemical, caused an unusual reaction. (A better chemistry student might have been able to give a more specific example, but my chemistry scores were almost as low as the artificial gravity on a cheap lunar hotel.) I felt a strange - but not unsettling - sense of control as a set of words written in the very language of terror began to take shape.
And the message said…
I drew in my breath sharply. The experience of actually hearing the fear was beyond description. It was like having spent all your life living in the light, and then seeing darkness for the first time. I felt a swell of excitement as, for the first time in my life, I had actually listened to what the fear was saying, rather than just blinding trying to push it away. And while the message it had delivered was not, in itself, enough to turn the tide in my battle with the Vexaryx, it was enough to make me see the situation from a whole new perspective - one that might enable me to find a way to take one last throw of the dice, before my entrails were spilled over the floor of the skybox.
It’s overconfident.
That was what the fear had told me. In sensing my own terror at facing the outsider, I had questioned just why I had felt that way in the first place, and while the answer was simple, it was also profound.
The Vexaryx was bigger than me.
The Vexaryx was stronger than me.
The Vexaryx had probably killed more people than I had enjoyed Strawberry Supernovas.
But none of those were necessarily deciding factors in a battle. There were things that mattered more - things like bravery, cunning and guile. And while the Vexaryx might have been able to strike terror into my heart with its abominable appearance and spine-chilling mist powers, it had no way of stopping me from using my head to come up with a way to defeat it.
And now the message came again, repeating itself in my mind as if, in being listened to once, the fear had decided that it would continue speaking until I either went mad or shouted it into silence.
It’s overconfident.
The fear was right. A truly merciless assassin would have just killed me on the spot, before terror had even had the chance to flood my body. But the Vexaryx - undeniably deadly as it was - was not without its weaknesses. Just as I was blinded by fear, so, too, was it blinded by its own power - so blinded that it couldn’t conceive of a situation where its prey might actually be able to inflict damage. That was why Tartrian had managed to land so many shots with the plug zapper in the creature’s weak spot.
Overconfidence.
It had a hold on the creature as strong as the hold of the hatefully cold mist that had wrapped itself around my legs. And if I could just find some way to use that overconfidence against the Vexaryx, I might yet be able to claw myself back from the jaws of death.
My eyes still firmly shut, I mentally scanned my body, taking stock of everything I had at my disposal. Both my arms were still free, and I had partial movement of my upper torso. The mist had covered part of the utility belt that ran around my waist, but after quickly running my fingers around the top of the belt, I determined I was still able to open most of the pockets. The contents of those pockets: a few nutrition pills, a standard issue laserknife, the holocaster containing the image of Tartrian Moonstorm, a microscopic medkit I had all but forgotten about, a few loose zenthars, the jellybee (plus its tiny remote), a handful of—
My eyes snapped open.
The jellybee!
If I could just administer the minor electric shock from the device to the hollow in the centre of the Vexaryx’s forehead, I might be able to break its concentration long enough for Startide and/or Shade Brekum to intervene. I had no way of knowing whether two (or even two hundred) bounty hunters would be of any use against a Vexaryx, but they would surely make a better go of it than I was.
Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out the jellybee. The device was still intact, its squishy frame somehow surviving the many knocks, spills and tumbles I had sustained since I had last attempted to use it to capture Tartrian. The remote was in working order, too, and when I turned on the power, the video feed from the jellybee came through in perfect quality.
“What is that?” asked the outsider.
I looked up into two curious yellow eyes. Foolishly, I had not attempted to conceal the jellybee, but then I realised the mistake might actually have been to my advantage. In its certainty of securing victory, the Vexaryx had ceased to consider me a threat, and was now somewhat captivated as I tweaked the tiny controller to elevate the jellybee into the air.
“Just something we humans like to amuse ourselves with,” I said, directing the jellybee into position in front of the tendon-covered, red and black face.
“You humans amuse yourself with strange contraptions,” said the outsider, its gaze fixated on the jellybee’s shimmering exterior.
“We do indeed.”
Sensing the Vexaryx’s total absorption in the jellybee, I pushed the device forward until it was almost directly in front of its eyes. Just another few microtectars, and it would be in position to deploy the electric shock. As the jellybee drew nearer to the hollow in the centre of the outsider’s forehead, I crept my thumb over to the button that activated the stinging mechanism.
Almost there, I told myself. Just a little bit mo—
The speed of the outsider’s movement was incredible. One moment, the jellybee was there. The next, it had disappeared, and it wasn’t until the outsider raised one of its clawed hands in front of my face that I saw that it had plucked the transparent insectoid out of the air.
Feeling hope drain out of me like atmosphere through a breach in the colony’s outer wall, I hastily hammered the button to administer the electric sting. Without it deployed on the Vexaryx’s weak spot, there was little hope that it would be able to break its concentration, but it was worth a shot. However, the stinger of the jellybee merely thrust back and forth helplessly, right up to the moment when the Vexaryx shredded the device between its claws.
“The eyes of a Vexaryx,” it said, drawing its claws back for what I knew would be the final strike, “can see far more than the eyes of a human - including electrical signals. Still, it was an admirable plan, and it might have worked, were you not outmatched in every way possible.”
There it was again, that absolute confidence. But with the jellybee destroyed, and with mere moments remaining before my chest was cleaved open by a blood-hungry obsidian claw, there was no obvious way I could exploit it further. My chance had come and gone, and now nothing remained for me but death.
