The Kenval Incident

by Philippe Mercurio

  Unfortunately, he didn’t seem to be affected. When she felt sweat pouring down her neck, she began to worry. “How am I going to beat this monster if he’s indifferent to my attacks?” she grumbled.

  She barely avoided a thick fist swung like a mace and had to retreat several steps. Domar pushed forward, and she was almost crushed against one of the ring’s posts. Seeing what he was doing, she managed to dodge again but, at the last moment, the end of one talon savagely flayed her shoulder.

  Torn by the Orcant’s claw, the pilot’s t-shirt hung off her and revealed a dripping, scarlet wound. The injury was shown in close-up on the screens. A drone-camera had noticed the stream of red liquid.

  At the sight of first blood, the crowd yelled even louder. The alien beat his chest like a gorilla, clearly excited to have marked Mallory’s flesh. In his guttural voice, he spat out, “Katrad nador!”

  “The weak die”: the Orcant’s war cry, Mallory remembered. Ignoring her pain, she quickly shifted to the side to put herself back in the middle of the octagonal ring. The bell rang, indicating the end of the first round.

  The two combatants took advantage of their brief pause to sit down in their respective corners. Perched on the middle rope, Mallory drank water and observed her adversary. In the opposite corner, two people were taking care of Domar and were talking to him. While she recovered her breath, the pilot suddenly heard Laorcq’s voice:

  “Your defense isn’t bad,” he remarked. “But it’s not enough. It’s easy to see you’ve never fought an Orcant.”

  The scarred man had left Torg to watch over Geekler and had approached to see the duel. Surprised to see Laorcq so close to the ring, she leaned toward him to hear better.

  His low voice carried above the murmur of the crowd. “They have two weak points: a very sensitive mouth and mediocre peripheral vision. Bash his eyes and his mouth if you want to hurt him.”

  The pilot would have liked to hear more, but the second-round bell rang. She didn’t even have a chance to thank Laorcq.

  Determined to end the fight as quickly as possible, the alien drove forward at her viciously. She hardly had time to put up her guard. Forearms pulled in tight to protect her face and torso, she deflected a blow that could have knocked out a cow.

  She knew that she couldn’t last long if she was going to have to withstand such impacts. She had to do everything she could to stay out of his reach.

  With a sliding step, she put herself on Domar’s right. Then she leaned forward from the waist, lifted a leg, and kicked her foot violently at the Orcant’s eyes. Mallory’s boot, which had reinforced toes, crushed one eye with a sickening sound.

  Pain ripped an inarticulate bellow from the alien. The cries of the spectators, thrilled by this kind of butchery, echoed him. While bright blue liquid spilled from his eyeball, Domar stumbled and gave ground.

  Relieved to have finally seriously injured him, the pilot rejoiced. He’s bleeding, and not a little! Laorcq was right—that’s the way to do it. I can take him down.

  Avoiding the Orcant’s sharp claws, she increased her punches to his face while swerving from side to side.

  She was too busy fighting to pay attention to Laorcq. With a smile on his lips, he didn’t miss a moment of the spectacle, pleased to see that she was a fast learner.

  Half blinded, the alien stood before Mallory and fumed. He could no longer land blows with any precision. He must’ve felt the advantage slipping away from him, because he redoubled the strength of his attacks. His heavy fists now whistled through the air haphazardly, occasionally missing the Earthling by a hair.

  Following a series of hooks, a kick almost sent her to the ground. Without her years of diligent practice, she could have been killed by this one assault.

  From here and there in the crowd, boos rose, but also interjections such as “crush her!” and “end him!” Mallory could hear that the public was divided. One part stood behind the local champion. The other appreciated the clinic she was putting on, and they punctuated her movements with approving cries.

  The pilot ignored them, concentrating on survival, and saw that her opponent was finally flagging. It was time to implement the plan she’d been working out for a few moments. She deliberately let down her guard, inviting him to attack her. She waited, her heart pounding.

  As she expected, Domar rushed at her, drunk with anger and pain. It was a fateful moment for Mallory.

  Taking an unreasonable risk, she slipped between the Orcant’s thick arms. She leapt forward and lifted her left foot while bringing her knee up to her chest. In stride, she shot her leg out forcefully and projected her heel at what served as the alien’s mouth. The impact was incredibly violent, and, despite his weight, he fell back a step.

  Sensing an opportunity, Mallory didn’t weaken her onslaught and connected her blows. As soon as one of her feet landed on the ground, the other struck. Her boot split the air diagonally and descended in an arc, scraping Domar’s muzzle in passing with her cleats. His nasal cavity ravaged, the Orcant grunted with pain and tried to protect his face with his hands.

  Forced to choose a new tactic, he reared back to free his front limbs and tried to lash out at Mallory. She dove under one of his claws whipping around in empty space and seized it with two hands to trap it against her shoulder. She stood abruptly and used it as a lever. Letting out a victorious cry, she pushed the unbalanced champion over the ropes.

  The alien fell, landing headfirst. His skull exploded with a sinister crunch. He convulsed twice and stopped moving.

  Shocked by this abrupt ending, the crowd fell silent. Then, all at once, pandemonium broke out. The gamblers screamed, some in despair, others in joy.

  The audience, now captivated, proclaimed its admiration for Mallory’s prowess. The drone-cameras framed her from as close as they could, lingering over the feminine parts of her anatomy, particularly the breast that was partially exposed by her torn t-shirt. The perspiration from combat molded her clothes to her body, outlining her curves, to the pleasure of the male clientele.

  Laorcq took advantage of the confusion to return to the cybrid and Geekler. He dug the barrel of his gun into the doctor’s ribs and grabbed him by the collar. “We’re going!” he said, before heading for the exit.

  Once outside, Torg took over, lifting the doctor and carrying him to the car. The AI recognized them and opened the doors. The colossus threw his burden onto the rear seat forcefully and folded up his eight-foot frame to join him. Laorcq sat in one of the front seats and watched for Mallory through the tinted glass.

  A bit later, he saw her forging a path toward them through a crowd of her new fans, her shoulder wound covered with a synthetic skin bandage. She arrived at the car followed by a guy wearing a suit that was a bit too large for him.

  “Listen,” he said. “I’m the best agent in the area. I can make you a star…”

  An unmistakable expression appeared on Mallory’s face. Not surprisingly, Laorcq heard her threaten to break the guy’s nose if he didn’t leave her alone.

  With a sigh of satisfaction, she got into the car and slammed the door shut. The scarred man watched her stretch, and then, unable to maintain his serious demeanor, he asked her, “Are you happy to be the champion of the Strovoka?”

  With impressive confidence for someone who had just had a brush with death, she replied, “As if! There are nothing but second-rate boxers in this kind of dive. At least I got a chance to distract myself a bit.”

  The cybrid, delighted to have rejoined his captain, ruffled her hair affectionately.

  “Torg!” she cried. “Stop!”

  More amused than annoyed, she tried to push away the furred colossus’ arms.

  Laorcq was briefly distracted by his associates for a few moments, but he still noticed when the doctor moved. Trying to take advantage of the situation, he was quietly turning the door handle. Laorcq brought him back to reality by delivering a fantastic smack with the back of his hand.

  His mouth bloodied
, Geekler froze.

  “Are you pouting?” the scarred man mocked him. “It’s too late to regret trying to get the better of us.”

  The return trip took place in silence, occasionally interrupted by a moan from the doctor. The vehicle stopped in front of the hotel. With the doctor flanked by Laorcq and the cybrid, they crossed through the Inata’s lobby. Geekler, still stunned by the soldier’s slap, kept quiet and did what he was told.

  They returned to the calm cleanliness of the suite with pleasure. Torg threw himself on the sofa, whose mimetic upholstery faltered under the impact. Mallory took over the bathroom. Hearing the sound of water filling the jacuzzi, Laorcq guessed he wouldn’t be seeing her again for a bit.

  For his part, he secured the doctor in a chair using a roll of duct tape. He then dug a drink out of the minibar and exclaimed, “Look at that! A cognac worthy of its name.”

  He studied the contents of the bottle before swallowing a substantial mouthful: progress deserved to be celebrated, after all…

  Then he turned his attention to the doctor. “You’ve made the most of your evening, I hope. Because pretty women and fights, that’s over now! Your future will take place in a cell.”

  “What? Just who do you think you are? I haven’t done anything wrong,” Geekler defended himself. “You’re the ones who are going to be living in darkness.”

  Laorcq decided to cut him off. “Are you mocking me? And your experiments in your crappy lab? The little I saw is worth one or two broken fingers.”

  Matching his movements to his words, he took an index finger and got ready to bend it the wrong way.

  The doctor panicked. “What the fuck do you want from me? I just do my work, that’s all! You’re not a cop, I’m sure of it. Did Morsak send you? Lebrane may have double-crossed him, but not me!”

  “You really don’t understand. I have sworn to kill Morsak. You’re a tool, nothing more. You’re what I need to stop the machinery keeping him out of my reach.”

  He finished his drink and carefully placed the empty bottle back into the minibar. With a violent right hook, he knocked the doctor out cold.

  XII

  SAFARI

  THE old armored truck creaked when one of its wheels hit a pothole. Sitting at the controls, Laorcq asked himself: How much longer is this relic going to hold together?

  The most fragile parts had disappeared little by little as they died, and now all that remained of the original vehicle were the seats and the steering wheel. Nevertheless, he considered himself lucky to have found a vehicle they could use to escape Gloria City.

  On Kenval, leaving the shelter of the concrete-walled superstructures was considered suicide. Before the domination of the Vohrns, this world had been the site of violent confrontations between humans and Orcants. The final stroke of bad luck had been that Omsyn, the terrifying mutagenic illness, had proliferated in the fertile soil of war.

  The planet had suffered from the after-effects. Vegetation ran wild, and hordes of mutant creatures fought over the wide areas separating the cities. In these conditions, no one would risk renting them anything but an old army leftover.

  Familiar with these vehicles from his earliest days in combat, the commander rediscovered his old reflexes. He had driven them for days on end, relieved by other members of the crew only so he could sleep on the narrow rear bunk.

  Mallory’s voice drew him from his thoughts. “What does the lever you’re moving do?”

  He took his eyes off the road to look at her. She didn’t miss a single detail, and her childlike curiosity shone in her slightly slanted eyes.

  Tersely, he replied, “I’m shifting gears.”

  “I knew it!” she declared, delighted. “This thing must be centuries old! Can I try?”

  “If you’re good…”

  Laorcq thought back to when he had first driven an armored vehicle and preferred not to count the years that had passed since. For the umpteenth time, he consulted his navcom. He thought the Sirgan should be ready to take off by now.

  Officially, the transport ship’s crew was staying at the Inata Hotel for the next two weeks. As for Jazz, he was conducting a post-maintenance test flight.

  In reality, the ship would come to meet them as soon as they left the astroport. Jazz was supposed to simulate damage and land to pick them up with Geekler. In possession of a witness and Morsak’s package, they would fly straight to Earth. Neutralizing the CEO of Idernax would then be only a matter of time.

  While preparing for their expedition outside Gloria City, Mallory and Laorcq had studied the problem from several angles. Even if the fake breakdown was a hackneyed ruse, it was still the best option. And they did have one advantage: his status as commander.

  If he pulled rank on any police or military who intervened, he could obtain the respite the Sirgan would need to slip away. Once out of sensor range, they’d be able to flip over to the transport ship’s real ID and make a beeline for Earth. The transponder provided by Lebrane to hide the ship’s identity would allow them to return to the solar system without interference, Laorcq realized, savoring the irony.

  The path suddenly became bumpy, and the passengers in the truck were tossed about. His thoughts interrupted, he blurted, “Hang on!”

  Torg’s head hit the ceiling with a muffled thump. The doctor, hands and feet still bound, slid roughly to the floor. Hanging onto a handle, the pilot burst out laughing at the results of the shake-up. To Laorcq’s surprise, despite the risk of losing her ship, or even her life, her morale was holding.

  He watched the small brunette attentively. He pegged her age at twenty-five, maximum: she must have been born around when he joined the army. At the time, a girl like her would have driven him crazy.

  This thought prompted another. These days, he felt nothing but the thirst for revenge. Morsak had taken everything from him. He breathed deeply after noticing that he was twisting the steering wheel in anger. To avoid giving in to blind hatred, he would have to concentrate on the present moment.

  The armored truck advanced, rumbling over the wide, rocky path. Unconsciously sensitive to her companion’s tension, Mallory had shifted her attention to her surroundings. Through the thick windows, she discovered the scars of war everywhere.

  Explosions had devastated the terrain, shredded the hills, and dug craters in the plains, creating a Moon-like landscape. The carcasses of military vehicles lay everywhere.

  Her mood turned serious. “It looks like the end of the world,” she reflected out loud. “The battles must have been real massacres…”

  The areas that had been spared sprouted smears of greenery. The liveliest plants spread from these oases and were slowly taking over. A shadow sometimes slid between the piles of rubble or fled from the vehicle’s path, betraying the presence of animal life.

  As Laorcq pulled out of a hairpin turn, Mallory saw a bunker ripped open by a shell. A temba, the local equivalent of the baobab tree, had taken root inside.

  Its thick foliage provided shelter for a colony of purple enarks. The scarred man didn’t slow. Mallory understood why when she consulted her navcom about the giant flying insects: they were parasites. Using their long stingers, they pierced the bodies of their victims to lay eggs. After hatching, these larvae would feed on the fat and muscle of their host, then, once they had developed, they would attack vital organs.

  As if coming across killer bees and overgrown trees was but a prelude, they encountered the mutants shortly thereafter.

  From behind a hill emerged a troupe of frail, gnome-like creatures. They began to run alongside the truck. Short, with oversized paws and glistening green skin, none of them were more than three feet tall.

  Apparently curious, they stared at the armored vehicle with their pale green eyes. Their body hair was limited to a tuft of yellowish fur on the top of their skulls. Laorcq considered them harmless and they continued on their way.

  Cautiously, he nevertheless requested, “Mallory, Torg, keep an eye on those things, just
in case.”

  The terrain deteriorated, and the vehicle tossed its occupants around again. Distracted by the shaking, Laorcq realized too late that the road was about to drop off abruptly: It looked like someone had had the absurd idea of putting a step here.

  He didn’t have time to brake. Carried by their momentum, the truck was suspended briefly in air before landing abruptly. The impact forced the old shock absorbers to the limit.

  The sound acted like a signal for the gnomes accompanying them. Surprising the armored vehicle’s passengers, they jumped on the hood and latched on, aided by the black claws that protruded from their thick fingers.

  Although unable to pierce steel or glass, they were still a potential threat, because two of them were blocking the windshield. Mallory turned to see if they were covering the back window as well. “There are more!” she exclaimed.

  The unrest had indeed attracted more monsters. Three mammoth quadrupeds covered with green scales surged out of an island of greenery. They had cylindrical bodies with short tails on one end that were strangely symmetrical to their elongated muzzles on the other. Their foaming jowls, crowned with a single eyeball, split their conical heads all the way to their shoulders.

  They rushed at the gnomes hanging onto the vehicle, which now looked like a nightmarish bunch of grapes, with the little mutants making up the seeds.

  The predators ripped them off one by one and gulped them down in their disproportionate jaws. When the last tiny creature had been eaten, they moved on to the truck. It was too big to be trapped in their jaws, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t vulnerable to the mass of large carnivores.

  Laorcq accelerated abruptly, turning all the warning lights red. Aware they couldn’t maintain this pace without overheating the engine, he stopped as soon as he had put some distance between them and the quadrupeds. Then he got out of the armored truck with one of his revolvers in his hand.