by Ian Miller
"I don't believe it," Harvey almost squealed. "That woman we've got is a perfect match. And we intercepted that message to that Roman. The Commissioner said she'd survived the bomb."
"That could be faked," Jennifer retorted scathingly.
"So soon? And why?"
"Enough!" the M'starn said harshly. "If I follow, we don't know who we've got, but if the Roman thinks it's Kotchetkova, it may not matter. I think I'll have to find out. What else I have to find out is why she's in another building."
"Extra safety."
"Extra safety? From what?" the M'starn glared.
"Those kerem things," Harvey muttered, after it became obvious he would have to answer.
"What do you mean? What have you done?"
"Nothing," Harvey began to bleat.
"What have you done?"
"She's in another building down the road. We've taken those two kerem, and we're feeding them, so –"
"How?"
"There's this Justice agent who wanted to talk to me, and he even managed to find out where I was," Harvey sneered, "so I thought he should get an appropriate reward for his initiative. We're making a video of what happens. We're going to show it to Kotchetkova any time."
"I suppose I might as well hear the worst," the M'starn said, as he sat down and gripped the sides of his chair. The talons sunk into the leather, and there was a harsh tearing sound. "How many kerem?"
"What do you mean, how many? There were only two!"
"Which gives you a choice of one or two! How many?"
"Both of them. Got to keep them in good order," came the simple reply.
"You fool! You utter and completely stupid incompetent blob of excrement!"
"Listen, there's no –"
"Keep quiet! Do absolutely nothing! I've got to think!"
"What's wrong?"
"I don't suppose it ever occurred to your minute organ you call a brain to ask how the kerem reproduce? Then to think about the consequences of the fact that these alone from my planet can actually digest your flesh?"
"I dunno. I suppose you're going to tell me those two'll mate?"
"Well done!"
"So what? Those were fairly easy to handle."
"Because they were so starved they were hardly alive. Now you'll have several of them, fully active."
"So what?"
"Just that you've no defence."
"But you said you can easily get them out. Oh, I see! You lied. You had no intention –"
"I did not lie, you worm. First, I did not expect to have to use them, but second, as long as only one was used, I could get them out any time. Once they've fed, they have an insatiable breeding urge. To do that, they have to meet."
"Well so what? You can still use them singly, if you so desire."
"The so what is how are you going to contain them? You're looking at a monumental environmental disaster. Millions could die."
"I guess that's unfortunate," Harvey admitted.
"You could say that," the M'starn spat. "It'll take them some effort to get off this island, so the chances are they'll kill every human on it first. It has probably passed your notice, but you live on this island."
"What'll we do?" an ashen-faced Harvey almost bleated.
"You, you will do absolutely nothing. Do you think you can manage that?"
Harvey lowered his eyes, and said nothing.
"Good! That's a start. Now, tell me where this building is. I'll see what I can do."
* * *
Natasha shuddered. The video she had just seen would give her nightmares for weeks. The image of that poor man screaming as that thing poked its head out of his nose was one of the most nauseous things she had ever seen. She had to be strong.
Her heart sank as the door opened. Two of Munro's men sauntered in, the leading one holding one of those vile kerem in a pair of tongs in front of him. Natasha struggled, but the restraints on her arms and legs were firm. She simply could not move. As the two advanced, try as she would, she could not avoid looking at the monstrosity before her. It was about ten centimeters long, was a reddish brown, and had a shape a little like a fat worm. It had a sharp, spiky tail, its body was encased by an armoured shell and behind and below the head were two sets of spiky talons. These, Natasha realized, the creature used to grasp its prey while it began burrowing. Its means of burrowing was nauseatingly efficient. At the side of its head were two small chitinous shield-like objects, razor sharp in front, and with flexible barbs at the side. These were apparently dug into the prey, then the shield would swing back, in an action akin to breaststroke, and the kerem would advance into the prey by that amount. The talons would then hold a new position, and the action would be repeated. There was undoubtedly great pain as the flesh was torn apart, and once the beast had entered, there would be nothing that would get it out. Even surgery seemed useless, as the kerem could move so quickly.
"Well, Commissioner," one of the men sneered. "I would suggest that you co-operate."
"If you don't," the other added, "you know what's going to be inside you?"
"What do you want?" Natasha asked quietly. She had to buy time.
"That's better," the first man smirked. "The M'starn want your ship. Of course we might want something too."
"What do you want?" Natasha asked quickly. "Get me out of here and –"
"I think she's trying to bribe us," the second man said coldly. "I don't think she realizes what Mr Munro'd think of that."
"I think Mr Munro'd let us have all the fun we want with her," the first agreed.
"Look," Natasha said calmly, then she paused. In the doorway behind the men a small light appeared. It hovered, then entered the room, ran along the wall, and settled on the top of a cupboard, out of sight. Suddenly her spirits lifted. She had no idea what that was, but she was certain it had nothing to do with these thugs.
"Well, we're looking."
"Don't see much to interest us, though!"
"Look, I can't get you the ship," Natasha started.
"Well, ain't that just too bad," the first man sneered, and held the kerem up closer. "I'd think again if I was you."
"I can't," said Natasha, "because I can't even get aboard it myself. It belongs to the Ulsians, and I'm not one of them. They let me use it, but they were only using me."
"Aw, c'mon, You'll have to do better than that," the first man said.
"Lot's better."
"I'm afraid it's the truth," Natasha said evenly, "and nothing can change that. But I can get you anything you want. Money, a new life, a new identity –"
"So we can work for a living," the second man scoffed.
"In a corporation," the first added. "My, Mr Munro would love to hear about that."
"I can make sure that Munro'd never get to you," Natasha assured them. "I'll tell you something else, too. I can't give you the ship. It's physically impossible, but that won't please the M'starn. Just think what they'll do to you when you fail. Your only chance's to let me help you."
"Who cares about that black load of shit," the first man scoffed.
"I'll tell you what," the second sneered. "Munro's going to kill that animal soon anyway."
"Yeah," the first added. "If that black shit thinks we're going to deliver that ship to him, he's pretty stupid."
"So I'm afraid that you're going to have to rediscover a way to get it for us, or you're going to get this!" Natasha shuddered as the kerem passed a metre in front of her face. The kerem had smelt her, and it began writhing.
"But we'd better have our fun with her first," the second man added.
"Could be a bit nasty afterwards," the first agreed.
"So, you scum, you don't intend to obey me!" Standing in the doorway, the M'starn stood, pointing the sword-like weapon.
The two men spun around. "How'd you –" one of them started.
"Put that kerem into a jar!" the M'starn ordered.
"Do it yourself!" one of the men said, and flung the kerem at the black figure. His
aim was, however, poor, and the kerem struck the wall, slid to the floor, and before the M'starn could grab at it, it slithered behind the cupboard.
"You stupid fool," the M'starn officer said as he shook his head sadly. "You're almost entirely useless. Come here!"
"What d'you want?" came the apprehensive voice.
"You!" The M'starn said, and suddenly leaped across the room, landed on the man's shoulder, and sunk the talons of his right hand into the back of the man's head. "Stand still or I'll crush your skull."
The man stopped struggling. The other came forwards to help, but the sword raised, a beam crossed the space, and the body dropped forwards, to twitch helplessly on the floor. A stench of burnt protein filled the air.
"Walk over to that cupboard!" the M'starn ordered. The man obeyed. The M'starn's left hand came down across the man's front, and tore away the shirt and singlet. Another slash, and there were streams of blood. "Kneel!" the M'starn ordered.
"No!" the man screamed, as he realized what was about to happen.
"Oh, yes," the M'starn hissed, and squeezed. The man screamed, then slowly lowered himself. Nothing happened for a moment, then the kerem slithered out from behind the cupboard, and made for the bleeding stomach. Like a flash, the M'starn arm came down, then came up again, the kerem secured between the talons.
The M'starn leaped off, and walked towards Natasha, the kerem held away from his body.
"So you're going to use that thing instead of him?" Natasha asked quietly.
"No," the M'starn said. "Some say the M'starn are cruel, but we are never needlessly cruel."
"If you carry those things around, just to torture people, cruel is not exactly a full description," Natasha said with a touch of defiance. "You may be technically advanced, but a race that has specialized torture animals has nothing to be proud of."
"What?" the M'starn said, slightly taken aback. "We don't specialize in torture. Frankly, I abhor it."
"Then why keep those kerem?"
"Oh, that," the M'starn said. "Lovely creature, don't you think?"
"It's repulsive!"
"Only to you," the M'starn replied. "For us, it is a necessity."
"I'll bet," Natasha shuddered.
"Let me tell you," the M'starn said. "I admire your courage, and I wouldn't want you to feel ill towards me. You may fight me, you may hate me, but please I would not wish you to despise me."
Natasha said nothing.
"Good," the M'starn went on. "This kerem is, on my planet, a special creature. It is a scavenger. You see," he said, as he allowed the kerem to touch his arm, "we have extraordinarily tough skins. When an animal dies on our planet, this type of skin would leave the animal to rot, bloat up, and make a terrible mess. The kerem evolved through natural selection to get around this problem. They get in, then eat the animal. They've even developed a sense for what will decompose first, and if they enter before the animal is dead, they will keep it alive as long as possible. In addition, they can and do live in some giant fungi we have, and these fungi are very important to us, because they make certain sulphur compounds we need.
"Unfortunately, the fungi are poison to us, but not to the kerem, and these little creatures metabolize the fungal products into just what we need to make the enzymes that make the mucoids in our bodies. To us, these kerem are both a necessity and a delicacy."
The M'starn watched Natasha's looks, and nodded. "I can see you don't quite believe me," he said, "and after your experience today, I can't say I blame you. But I've got to do something with this, so I'll demonstrate how we do it. See, we hold it carefully behind the head, and with these," he said, showing the talons, "we snip off the tail, like so. When done properly, almost none of the body fluids escape, see?" He held it up, and Natasha shuddered. "Now, we grasp the head, and pull carefully. All the bony bits, and the spine come free, and we quickly catch the body fluids," and with that he pulled, and as the head came away, he held the kerem to his mouth, his tongue lashing quickly to catch the reddish liquid. "Now," he went on, "we eat the rest, following the instructions of our mothers to chew it well." With that, the residue went into his mouth, and he began chewing. "If you don't chew well," he added, with a filled mouth, "you don't break down certain sacs within the body. This means the kerem don't digest very well, and worse, you miss the full delicious taste."
Natasha watched in fascination as the M'starn continued chewing. Only once did she give an involuntary shudder.
"You are Natasha Kotchetkova aren't you?" the M'starn said, while still chewing.
Natasha said nothing, then shuddered a little as the outer shell of the kerem was spat out.
"You're puzzled? Yes, you would not know of the doubts we had as to whom we had captured, but you have the sense not to commit yourself. You are the Commissioner, you have the ability, and the sense of command."
"If you say so," Natasha shrugged.
"I am sorry it has come to this," the M'starn said, nodding in appreciation. "Had I met someone like you rather than representatives of Munro, things might have turned out differently. But this must be played out. I have to use you as a threat to your Roman friend, and for the threat to be meaningful, I have to keep open the possibility that I could use those on you. But please understand, I do not relish the thought."
"If you don't relish that thought," Natasha said, "then let me go."
"Now that doesn't get me anywhere," the M'starn shook his head.
"It gets you home," Natasha said.
"How do you work that out?"
"The M'starn have surrendered," Natasha said simply. "The Federation Council and the Ulsians have agreed that your people will be given their ships back, and a free passage back to your home planet, or at least to planets in the vicinity."
"Good try," the M'starn said, and he nodded towards her. "I admire someone who keeps their head."
"It's true," Natasha said firmly, "and I can prove it. Get me a means of communication. I'll put you in touch with your own commander."
"I rather think you could," the M'starn said slowly. "You are not stupid."
"It's the truth," Natasha affirmed.
"Perhaps, but unless I can repair Munro's blunder, your people won't let me go," the M'starn said slowly. "They'll tear me to bits, and I can't say I blame them."
"I assure you, my word –"
"Won't mean a thing," the M'starn said harshly, "once they realize what will happen once those kerem escape. I'm going to have to do something to rectify that first." The M'starn turned, and began to leave.
"Take me with you," Natasha asked.
"You feel you have something to offer?"
"I feel safer with you than with Munro's clowns," Natasha said simply.
"I'll bet you would," the M'starn cackled in understanding, "but I can't trust you. You sound different, but from what I've seen of your kind I think you humans have no idea at all what honour is. But fear not. Munro's men will leave you alone, because they understand fear, and you may trust me to instil that into them. Come!" and with that he nodded a farewell to Natasha. He then grasped the remaining man by the ear, and they made their way out the door. As they left, Natasha noticed the light once again emerge from the top of the cupboard, and glide away through the door and follow.
Chapter 14
A small group of tourists were walking cautiously down the Manhattan avenue. The driver of the bus had cautioned them against this, but after all it was an adventure tour. Many of the men were armed, and the driver would ensure, as long as they kept in a group, that at any time they could quickly return to the safety of the bus. The armour would offer protection against most ordinary weapons, but the large emblems of TouristCorp would offer the most protection. The tourists paused, and some looked up to see the helicopter moving idly around.
"What's that?" one of them asked.
"A helicopter," came the dry reply.
"But there's no corporate markings! Whose is it?"
This was unexpected, and more tourist
s looked skywards.
Suddenly their attention was diverted. They had reached an intersection, and from the next avenue someone turned into the street and was running towards them. When he reached but half way a car swung around the corner and sped towards him. A window came down, a rifle emerged, and a shot brought the runner down, clutching his leg. The car came closer, and a second bullet fired from point blank range broke the runner's spine. He lay twitching, in extreme pain.
"You murderer!" a woman called out, and ran from the tourists, waving a bag at the car.
For a moment, the occupants of the car seemed stunned, then the rifle appeared again, and another bullet was fired, this one tearing into the bag.
"Go back, you stupid old hag!"
The woman stared at her bag, as if not comprehending what had happened.
"Suit yourself!" Another bullet, this one tearing into the woman's shoulder.
"Please! No more!" This from the group. "We'll take her back. Honest, we won't say anything!"
A man emerged from the tourist bus, and walked cautiously forward, his hands empty. The man in the car shrugged, then the car swung around and retreated. High above, the helicopter followed.
* * *
"Nice shot."
"Which one?" came the disinterested reply. He looked around the room. Most of the GenCorp street-men were here. A touch of apprehension swept through him. Hadn't Munro said something about everybody not having lunch at the same time?
"Hitting the bag."
"Which one?"
"The real one. Anyone could hit the hag."
"True." A slight smile crossed is face, as he remembered the expression. "What the . . ." he began. The doors opened, and a swarm of grey overalls poured in, machine pistols at the ready. He leaned to his right and reached down, only to find metal against his teeth.
"No heroics, bud!"
"Everybody, hands clasped behind the neck, please!" A very attractive young woman, dressed in the black Defence spacer's uniform was standing on the bar table. She was attractive in all but one way; the weapon in her right hand seemed awfully comfortable. First, there was stunned disbelief, but gradually the hands went up. Soldiers moved around, searching for and removing weapons. This job was quickly and efficiently carried out.
