Prologue
It was like nothing else, letting the water spill over the slick, dark coils of her hair as she raked her fingers through its length. ‘Course, it had been so long since she’d had a proper shower that the rapture of it should have come as no surprise. Back aboard the Cudgel, ‘creature comforts’ meant enough rations to stave off an angry stomach and a bunk without atmo leaks. Most species aboard prized violence and lucre over ship maintenance—let alone hygiene—so the defunct sanisteam bay sat dark and derelict, festering with mynock dung.
It was one of the reasons she had looked forward to her stint aboard the Sledge. Unlike most other vessels in Admiral Fang’s “fleet,” the Neutrino Sledge spent most of its time in the Cudgel’s drafty docking bay; aside from being one of the last prized Firesprays to boast a functioning sanisteam, it played a key role in what Fang called the “Pavvar Pounce.” Most recognizable as a patrol ship, the Sledge swoops in to apparently rout Fang’s exploratory snubfighter attack with the efficacy of the maneuver’s Toydarian namesake after a swarm of fever wasps. Also in keeping with its treacherous namesake, the crew of the Sledge boards the beleaguered target vessel, offers assistance to repair any damage, and installs tracking and sabotage devices to drop the ship right into the crosshairs of Admiral Fang and his raiding parties.
That role of the kind, obliging savior was one Grao said was perfect for someone with such a silver tongue, and once she had dried herself and slipped on the ersatz uniform she had to admit that the part felt comfortable. Little more than a basic jump suit with a vac-seal helmet and a utility belt, it looked official enough. She pulled her hair back to match the severe lines of the disguise, and appraised the effect in a small mirror. After all, the clothes make the mendacity…
The self examination was cut short by a pound on the hatchway. “Hey, Acklay,” said a gruff voice from outside, “get a move on! Bolly and his men snared a juicy target!”
“Five minutes!” she shouted through the closed door.
“Make it two, girlie,” Zurk replied. “He says they’re putting up a resistance and he’s tired of patching holes in his squadron.” Zurk Zaress, was the slimiest member of Fang’s men. His gaunt grey features belied a frightening, bloodthirsty strength that even managed to scare the fearsome Graovaddik. He’d insisted on coming along, grumbling something about “Wookiee instinct.” The fact was that, despite Zurk’s conceited blustering about how Admiral Fang had promised him the BoSS codes and title to the Sledge herself once this mission was through, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was up. “Wookiee instinct,” indeed…
“Grao?” The main hold of the Sledge was empty. Conspicuously so. “Grao?”
“Relax, Acklay,” said Zurk as he stepped out from behind a bulkhead, in a voice anything but relaxing, “your pet Wookiee just stepped outside for a minute. ‘Calibrating the gyros,’ or somesuch. I can barely understand half the words that come outta that bruiser anyway…”
“Uh huh.” If Grao had needed to step outside, he probably would have checked with her. “Just the two of us then?” She spun around, locking her focus on the alien’s cold, black eyes. She allowed herself to back up against a stack of containment cells, putting her hands behind her back.
“That’s right,” he said, putting a fist against the cells as he leaned over her. He stroked a claw along her cheek. “Saw this coming, didja?”
Acklay idly tapped the heel of one boot against the other. “I’ve seen you looking at me across the mess hall, or during one of Fang’s monotonous speeches. I know the look.” It was one Grao had taught her to notice. Zurk was far from the only one to wear it, but both Grao and Acklay herself had taken pains to demonstrate what happens to anyone who does more than just look. Zurk was either stupid or crazy— and probably both— to be trying this, and was apparently willing to put the whole operation in jeopardy.
“Do you now?” Razor sharp teeth appeared within the crooked leer. “And how many times have you ‘known’ this look?”
“One time too many!” Before the cadaverous alien could respond, Acklay put a fist in his gut. The impact flashed with the discharge of her shock glove, and she followed it with a stunning uppercut.
Zurk reeled, holding his face and screaming. Acklay didn’t care if Bolly’s squadron was taking hits. She didn’t care if Admiral Fang took her down a peg for roughing up one of his favored pilots. Zurk had to learn a lesson; a hard one, here and now. She hoped that his cries of pain were evidence enough that he’d had enough, but then his hacking shrieks took on a different tone. Was Zurk actually… laughing?
“You got bite,” he said, coming down from his jocularity, “I’ve got to admit. I’m going to enjoy that.”
Finding a heavy duty hydrospanner on the floor, Acklay held it between herself and her would-be attacker. “This can end now,” she said. “Just go to the cockpit, call Grao in, and fly us to Bolly’s target. We can pretend this never happened, and Fang need never know.”
Zurk paid the brandished tool no heed. “That’s just the thing, girlie: while you were in there wasting our drinking water I was beating your precious pet Wookiee to gristle. He’s adrift outside, and we’ll soon be long gone from here.”
The spanner dipped a little. Grao couldn’t be gone, or she’d know it. She’d know! “But the Sledge,” she said, trying to guess at her captor’s plan. “You had plans of owning her.”
The cadaverous alien spread his broad arms wide, gesturing to the ship around them. “Free and clear, kid! Ol’ Fang was a little slow on getting me the BoSS codes for her, so I had a slicer friend take them off his hands for me.”
“And I’m just a bonus then, is that it? A little piece of meat you managed to snag on your way out? You’re mistaken if you think I’ll go along with this.”
“Oh, no,” he said, his tone portentious, “I’m afraid it is you who are mistaken.” He licked his lips lasciviously. No… Those weren’t tongues… There were two of them, long and slender, emerging from what seemed to have been his broad, angular cheekbones. “You weren’t a happy accident, little girl, you’re the prize.” He stepped toward her, like something out of dark fables she’d heard as a child. “And you’re not meat,” he said, picking up speed, “you’re soup!”
Zurk lunged, batting the spanner from Acklay’s grip, and she only just managed to wriggle from his grasp. She ran, slipping through the hatchway to the cargo hold and smashing the room controls. The door wouldn’t hold the monster long, but it might buy her enough time to find a real weapon in the darkness. There! Grao’s bowcaster! Grief brought her heart to her throat, but she swallowed it back down. Time enough for that if she survived this.
The door swished open, and in stalked Zurk, a ghostly silhouette in front of the light from the main salon. The paired protrusions whipped around, the tips flashing with razor glints. “Keep fighting, little girl,” he said to the darkness. “Work your soup into a froth!”
Acklay had to work quickly. In moments Zurk would be shrouded in the same darkness she was, and she’d never be able to shoot him. Crouched in her corner both for concealment and to support her heavy weapon, she carefully aimed the bowcaster and pulled the trigger.
The room lit up with fire, and Zurk shrieked when the quarrel ripped into his side. He fell to the ground lifeless, and Acklay slowly got to her feet. Smoke wafted from the snot vampire’s wound, and the great grey alien finally acted as dead as he’d always looked. But she knew she needed to make sure he was dead; Grao had taught her well. She reached down to slide Zurk’s combat knife from his belt sheath so she could finish him off, watching him carefully for any sign of life.
She was so intent on his face that she didn’t see his hand slip up over her wrist and clamp down with uncanny strength. He swung her through the air, slamming her to the ground and rolling so he was above her. Another gruff claw pinned her other arm and she lay helpless under him. “That’s gonna cost you,” hissed Zurk. “I was gonna finish you off quickly, delicious as you are, but now I think I’ll eat you slowly and painfully.”
The twin tentacles slipped out again, snaking forward until they were at her nose. Dignity abandoned, Acklay found herself moaning and pleading as she struggled in vain; a wordless supplication for this nightmare to end. The only language she was able to muster, over and over, was, “No!”
Inexplicably, the monster Zurk seemed to listen. “You can’t stop this, girlie. You aren’t strong enough. In the end you will die like all the others!” But his probing feeders never plunged into her nostrils. They reached, they strained, they brushed against the tip of her nose, and Zurk seemed to fight against… what? What was stopping him from drinking her dry and ending it all? “No!” she screamed one last time, and the sweat beading on Zurk’s ghoulish brow turned to sheets. He pressed forward, and the razor tips cut deep into her flesh.
Her eye caught a flash of movement in the dark periphery. The great, shaggy ghost of a protector she never expected to see again. Graovaddik, lurching and wheezing, still had the strength to lift the astonished Zurk over his head and smash him against the deckplates until they were stained and dented with his impending corpse. With last, desperate tenacity, Zurk fought back, but his frantic clawing came to an abrupt end when the hairy beast seized his head and twisted sharply.
His grisly work finished, the great Wookiee staggered backward and collapsed against the cargo bay bulkhead.
“Grao!” Acklay got to her feet and rushed to the side of her oldest friend. She cared little for the twin tracks the snot vampire’s… things… had driven across her face and eye, or the blood that poured across her face. She cared only that her constant and devoted savior was still alive. “I thought you were dead.”
The Wookiee managed a chuffing chuckle as he told her to give it some time. His fur was damp with blood and the condensation of vacuum exposure; his breathing, shallow and ineffectual. She examined his body carefully, which was riddled with lacerations. It was clear, even to her inexpert eye, that Grao didn’t have much longer.
She explained everything to him in a breathless rush, begging him to just stay awake and they could explain everything to Fang and take the Sledge and its BoSS codes and just leave and…
But he just patted her shoulder with a giant furry hand and ran his fingers through the still-wet curls of her hair. He purred a consoling remark, encouraging her to not worry. He would always be with her whenever she needed him most.
And then he died. The great torso heaved its last, and Acklay’s hero was still. Once again, after hours of silently clutching his cooling body to her, a wordless groan escaped her lips, stained with her own blood and tears. “No, Grao…” was the only language she could muster. “No…” |
