Planet Kill

by Sebastian Wilde

  The fact that this son of a bitch had somehow gotten his hands on a cloaking shield irked her to no end, but she'd have to ask him about it after she finished gutting him.

  Without another word, she ran, darting past Trunk and leaping into the air to bring her sword down on her invisible opponent. The shield flickered and she saw a muzzle appear, watched the blast go off, and felt the shot hit her even as her sword disconnected her enemy's arm from his body.

  Invisibility shields were legendary for their stealth ability, but were known for being otherwise weak. Her sword, which she'd intended to give to one of her generals but hadn't yet been able, was called "Cleaver," because of its ability to cleave into enemy armor.

  The shot had knocked her back, and now she saw that her shield was flickering. She stumbled, regaining her balance, and looked up to see blood spurting, a shield flickering from Hyena as well. In quick bursts she saw him, then he was gone, but the blood still there, his shrieks of pain and curses still very audible.

  "You… bitch!" Hyena screamed, as behind him dirt flew up and a crew of fighters stood at the ready. At that same time, Letha's comms burst forth with Redwood's voice.

  "They're just fucking, nobody seems to be here, but this menage a trois, and--oh, shit!" Her voice was cut off by a huffing and puffing, a loud thud, and then a deafening roar as the hill exploded, smoke billowing into the air.

  "Redwood!" Letha stared at Hyena, who was laughing as he bled out, his people waiting on his move. "I shouldn't be killing you for betraying me," Letha said, horrified by this man, "I should be putting you out of your misery because you're insane."

  "Bait, bitch," Hyena said, and then pulled a blaster with his remaining hand and knelt to fire. His followers joined in, some charging forward with blades.

  Chaos erupted as Letha's team charged into the fight, shields flickering with shots, her lower level people moving around for the flank. The ambush didn't last long though. Letha and her people were too strong for this group, but it wasn't the final bounty anyway, not the real kill she'd come for. She shot one here, turned and took out two more trying to make a move on Trunk just as he whipped off his loincloth and let his manhood flap in the wind. He set an explosive arrow into the enemy's midst, taking out four of them at once, and then charged into the frey.

  Soon all others were killed or on their knees in surrender, all but their leader.

  Hyena vanished again, but his laughing did not. Letha smiled, slipping her sword into its sheath, and pulled out her gloves.

  "Stay back, he's mine," she said, and stood still, eyes glancing about for the flicker of sunlight again. There was a slight alteration in lighting to her left, so she sprung for it. With her left hand she sent a blast of flame in that direction, so that a second later the dirt moved and something fell. She had him. With a pounce, she brought the shocker down onto the spot and waves of electricity burst forth. At first it looked like she had punched the air, but then his shield couldn't take it and failed.

  Just in time to see the grenade he had ready, pin pulled.

  "Oh, fuck!" Letha shouted, diving off of him as he laughed, long, chortling laughs.

  KA-BOOM!

  Body parts everywhere.

  Letha recovered, stood, and looked down at the mess that had once been a man. As she stood there, contemplating her idea of trust and how she'd let this happen, a voice flickered back onto her comms.

  "Letha…"

  "Redwood? You're alive?"

  Redwood coughed, then said, "We've all been dead for years. This place is hell, didn't you get the memo?"

  "Shit, shit!" Letha put her hands behind her head and laughed. "I thought you were a gonner, I really did."

  "Well, I've seen better days. You all might want to come get me."

  They went to the hill and found the rest dead, along with the forms of three enemy fighters, burnt to a crips, who had been in the throws of their little orgy. Had they known they were bait, and chosen to spend the last minutes of their lives like this? Letha had to imagine they were ignorant of the situation, told some fanciful lie about the viewers watching, so to give them a little show. Or maybe these three were just horny and couldn't wait, who the fuck cared. They were dead.

  And then she found Redwood, propped up against the wall, one of her arms held in her other hand. It had been blown up, but she'd recovered it. Half her face was burned, her clothes melted into her skin at her side.

  "They weren't with him," Redwood said.

  "What?"

  "Not his." She pointed to the wall opposite her, and groaned in pain, clenching her teeth to try and be strong.

  Letha looked at the map on the wall, and saw what she meant. It was of the surrounding area, drawn from the perspective of someone new to this part of PK, someone planning a big attack. Now it made sense--the three weren't bait at all, but Hyena's target. Whatever intel they'd gotten had been slightly inaccurate, because her people had no way of knowing another actor was in play.

  Another glance around, and she found the clothes of the trio. One of them had a leash. A glance at the bodies, and she found what she was looking for--on the inside of the wrist, a branding like that of a dragon.

  "Ladies and gents," Letha said, "we might have just found Pete's Dragon's hideout.

  "And where there's a dragon," Kale said, grinning, "there's treasure."

  "If it's as much as I hear, this might just be it," Letha replied, feeling her chest clench at the thought, her hands growing clammy. "We take out the dragon, that's enough for all of us to retire, I'd say."

  Kale turned to her with excitement, Trunk grinning as he undid his the loincloth from around his arm, to tie back around his waist.

  "Retire?" he asked. "Shit, this is retirement."

  Letha laughed. "Hell, heaven… retirement. Whatever this place is, I have business to attend to, and that involves me leaving. This could be the key."

  She quickly had her team spreading out to look for clues, to find out if Pete's dragon and his army were anywhere nearby, and had two of her newer recruits help get Redwood back to camp. When the others were gone, she found herself in an upper room with a lookout from the hill, able to watch as the desert land was bathed in the morning's red and orange light.

  A sound came from behind and she turned, ready to fight, but found only Trunk there. He grinned, stepping toward her and bringing with him a whiff of sweat, blood, and manliness. With a swift motion, he tossed his loincloth aside and set his weapons on the floor, then turned to her with a grin.

  "After what happened to Redwood," Letha said with a frown and turning away, "I'm hardly in the mood."

  "Really? He moved around to stand in front of her, taking her hand and placing it on his shaft so that she could feel it growing in her touch. "You finally see a path out of here, off of this beautiful planet, and that doesn't get you all worked up?"

  She moved her hand along him, stopping to rub her thumb around his tip, and then pulled back, folding her arms around her chest. "It gets me thinking, is all."

  "And thinking means you don't want this?"

  With a grin, she allowed her eyes to wander down to his beautiful cock, felt a flutter and slightest craving, but then looked away again. "I can't get it out of my head, the images of those three. And of her, holding her own arm."

  "I see." He turned from her, glancing around, and then found a ledge near the window, which he climbed upon and then knelt, putting a hand on his cock, then two, stroking it with a double grip like a damn broadsword handle.

  "What're you doing?" she asked with a laugh.

  "You need something to distract your mind, a new image to replace the old." Now he arches his back, one hand moving down to grab his balls as he started working his shaft faster, harder. "You need the distraction, I need the release. So sit back and watch."

  Another lick of her lips, a chill up her spine accompanied by a warmth between her legs, and she found she couldn't argue. Leaning back against the wall, she watched, even allowin
g her hand to move her body armor and let her fingers find herself.

  Soon his moans came, his eyes staring at her intently, never leaving her gaze, and hers followed. When he came all over the lookout room of what they assumed had been Pete's Dragon's lair, she was just finishing up as well, and had to place a hand on the wall to keep her legs from buckling beneath her.

  He grinned, nodded to the floor, and said, "Watch your step, it's slippery," before walking out as if nothing had happened.

  There were aspects of this planet she was going to miss, that was for sure. She glanced at the mess he'd made, laughed, and followed him out.

  Chapter Two

  Before Pierce’s eyes, countless forced volunteers were being escorted by the new A.I. Warden, Mags, into a landing strip full of passenger ships. They were mostly being returned to their families and homes, depending on each individual’s situation. Many didn’t want to go back to their old lives. As dangerous and hostile as Planet Kill had been for them, their old lives had been worse. Starvation, lack of opportunity, and harsh living conditions ran rampant throughout the galaxy, and several forced volunteers had begged for an alternative.

  Pierce lacked the credits to set them up himself. So he posted a public death-match invitation for viewers stating that he would submit to a fight to the death with any warlord on planet not named Letha in exchange for combined bids as long as they reached a forty-thousand credit threshold, half of which would go to the opponent if he were to win, and the half to the refugees regardless of the outcome—enough to at least get new lives started for them. It was a risky proposition, and Pierce had established in his invitation that he couldn’t back out in an attempt to increase interest. It worked.

  Luckily, Aero wasn’t famous enough to be among the top requested fighters, so that avoided any potential conflicts with Letha. The highest requested champion wasn’t one that Pierce was keen on fighting, though. The favorite amongst viewers to go up against him was a fighter with a moniker that had been earned through brutality. He was known for the inhumane way he tied defeated fighters to a spit as he roasted them alive. When asked why he used this method, the champion declared to his fans that he did to get revenge for all the bullies who called him a goat because of his last name when he was a kid. He wanted them to feel like sacrificed goats. His real name was DeGroat. His moniker, naturally, was Goat, which Pierce found ridiculous in a way. Goat had essentially become what he despised.

  Ordinarily, Pierce would have avoided the creepy guy, but part of the deal had been that Pierce was committed to the fight ahead of time, so he couldn’t back out. This part of the death-match proposal was essentially how he got the bids high enough to be of help to the refugees.

  Since the deviant Goat wasn’t the type to pass on an opportunity to wreak havoc on others, he jumped at the invitation and accepted immediately. It was a worst case scenario for Pierce, but at least in the moment, he got to take pleasure in seeing the refugees board the passenger ships on their way to potentially better lives.

  It also didn’t hurt that he had millions of new followers across the galaxy who were thrilled by efforts. He was the embodiment of what they wanted to be: a real life warrior who was a ruthless beast in battle, a wolf in bed, and a hero to those who couldn’t defend themselves.

  Watching the refugees wasn’t just an act of self enjoyment for him, however. There had been warnings and rumors of fighters looking to take advantage of unarmed refugees that made for quick kills and an opportunity for the more horrendous fighters to gain followers who were drawn to the serial killer types.

  The Dark Mark kept watch from a rock outcropping that gave her a full view of the landing strip and was in view of Pierce. He flashed his Bunker Buster twice to signal her. Two flashes meant nothing unusual or dangerous was taking place. Three flashes meant danger was approaching. The Dark Mark flashed her electrically charged sword twice, putting Pierce’s nerves at ease.

  Next, he flashed his weapon twice toward a sand dune in the opposite direction. At first glance, the dune appeared empty, but after a second, two flashes signaled back. It was all clear on Essie’s end. She’d hidden herself inside the sand and was wearing camouflaged body armor that was the same color as her surroundings.

  Just a few more minutes, and the refugees would be safe. In all likelihood, Pierce’s concerns about a potential ambush were unfounded, since at this point, most warlords were weary of engaging him in combat for fear of losing followers, regardless of whether they could take him on in physical strength. Besides, he’d been using his credits to level up and arm his ragtag group of warriors.

  So far, he’d only allowed women to join his group, essentially making his clan into a harem built around his skills and theirs. It was always good if a new recruit was easy on the eyes, but the deciding factor in whether someone was accepted or not was what they had to offer in the way of combat skills. Their abilities didn’t necessarily have to be directly fighting related. For example, Essie still wasn’t much of a fighter. But she could blend in anywhere and operate like a spy. The Dark Mark had no equal in asymmetrical warfare, meaning she could outmatch anyone when the battle involved. He was still one woman shy of a harem, despite multiple stunning applicants. The team needed someone who complimented their skills rather than duplicate them, though, so the spot was yet to be filled.

  It wasn’t that Pierce had a problem with bringing men into his inner circle. The issue was that he didn’t want to deal with potential jealousy issues and internal rivalries. So he made the men who wanted to join him into allies instead. Keeping his personal group closer to the size of a small strike team that could mobilize and attack on a moment’s notice. While still being able to call upon his male allies.

  At this very moment, three allied warlords, elevated through Pierce’s support, guarded the rear perimeter of the long parade of forced volunteers heading onto the landing strip. They weren’t aware of Pierce’s secret means of communicating with The Dark Mark and Essie, but they were operating in plain sight as an added measure of deterrence to eager and opportunistic rivals.

  So far, everything was going swimmingly, until a scream echoed across the open space and hit Pierce’s ears. His eyes darted in the direction of the rear perimeter, expecting to spot a rival warlord. It wouldn’t have been Goat since he had plenty to gain by waiting out the evacuation and then collecting the full credit bounty for fighting Pierce one on one. Still, dread overwhelmed Pierce as he sought out the source of the scream. "If it’s a warlord, why not attack from the flank?" Pierce said, wondering if he’d chosen the wrong locations for his most valuable team members.

  Then he saw it. Well, not it exactly. He saw a refugee sucked right into the ground as if swallowed whole. Dust flew up all around the spot, causing the surrounding evacuees to panic and break into a chaotic run for the landing strip.

  Without needing to see more, Pierce launched into a full throttle dash. But when he got there, there was nothing to be found other than the remains of a now closed back in depression in the ground and a splatter of blood on the precipice of the spot where a refugee had been swallowed whole by something beneath the ground.

  "Fuck," was all Pierce could think to say.

  He shot a glance up at The Dark Mark. She was still in position. He glanced over to Essie. She hadn’t moved and was fine. There was no one in sight for them to attack, though.

  Pierce was at a loss as to what he should do. No way had a rival warlord acquired some kind of weapon that allowed them to strike from beneath the ground and disappear. It would have been cost-prohibitive. No native species on Planet Kill had that kind of ability as far as the records had shown. He was dealing with an unknown.

  Then it struck again. Up ahead, one of the allies was pulled into the ground, and Pierce could swear that the thing grabbing the dude looked like an oversized mole.

  Worst case scenario, Pierce figured, was that an unidentified predator had remained hidden until this point and was drawn to the vibrations
that the mass of people concentrated in one place was causing beneath the planet’s surface. It was possible, considering that so many humans coalescing in one spot was a rarity outside of Reckoning Day. That didn’t quite sit right with Pierce, but he still didn’t have enough intel to know the threat they were facing.

  It struck again.

  This time, the creature was above ground long enough for Pierce to get a good look at it as the thing wrapped its massive mouthful of razor sharp teeth around an unsuspecting person trying to escape. The monstrosity looked like a cross between a mole and a piranha. Albeit, a hybrid that apparently could maneuver through the ground instead of water.

  And it was ugly. Like, crazy ugly. It seriously had the appearance of mismatched clothes. Its upper body had scales, and its lower half was furry with claws coming out of its torso. No legs or appendages of any kind were visible. And it had bug eyes.

  "For your sake," Pierce said, as he darted toward the monstrosity, "I hope you’re either asexual and are fine not getting laid, or you’re self-reproductive, because ain’t nobody hooking up with that face."

  To Be Continued…

  (Grab it on Amazon)