Patreon or PayPal Me keeps this site and its author alive. Thank you. |
Stories from the Verse
A Dozen Verses
Chapter 28: Slade 260
Table of Contents
Previous chapter: Cooper 81
The unrecognized alien had just commented that he had never killed a human; “Going to die disappointed then,” Slade responded as he studied him. Tusks slick with some excretion were above each of the binocular pair of eyes and around the lips which covered a very large amount of teeth inside a saggy-jowled face. Brown and tan mixed lightly-scaled skin did not harmonize at all with the shiny gold foil armor, or the black handled axe with the steel head.
The alien moved again, and Slade saw it had four joints in each leg--the unified pelvis, an upper knee, a lower knee, and an ankle. This gave it a weirdly off-putting step, and Slade figured an unusual amount of leg mobility. On the other hand, it had only one arm in use, as the other one just hung there.
“Not enough brain power to run your legs and both arms at the same time?”
The alien shrugged.
“It's how the Great Maker made us. Some people call us Dancers.”
“What do you call yourselves?” Slade asked as he began to circle just to get an idea of how those multi-jointed legs worked.
“Eaters of Weaklings.” The alien smiled, and his teeth lunged out of his face with a snap before retracting. “Lock my face onto yours with the tusk glue, and then just punch-eat your brains while you’re still living.”
The creature moved with an oddly disconcerting ease with small darts back and forward as it tested Slade’s reflexes. Worse, Slade realized that it did not seem to be affected by the high gravity. But he did not want to let that rabbit out of the hat. Instead, he asked another question.
“The Great Maker made you so?”
“Eh, we modified ourselves a few thousand years ago. We were just Dancers then, but now we’re better?”
“Well, if you mean ugly is better, then sure,” Slade said evenly trying to provoke the alien. It worked. With a wobbling dodge that fluctuated in multiple dimensions at once, the alien charged, leading with his ax preceded by a stunning roar.
Pushing through the noise, Slade fast drew and fired once, and twice, aiming just above the hips as that was the place least likely to move one way or the other. Both hit, and the gold foil ripped away, and suddenly snapping bones were heard as the alien’s legs cracked and broke. Slade hopped back as the creature tried to gut him with the axe.
“The gold foil is some sort of gravity alteration effect?”
“Yes, Lord Slade,” The alien groaned from the floor of the warehouse as another black pile appeared elsewhere in the room.
“How do you know my title?”
“Lord? It's what we call anyone who beats us in the Hordes. Now give me mercy for I have shamed myself.”
“Why don’t you let yourself be healed?”
“We in the Hordes are not like the weaklings who hide in the Throne World Empire. We face our fate without fear.” He raised his head and hollered, “The Horde is Forever. Now kill me Lord!”
“As you wish,” Slade said, and his blade came forth and sliced once, and the Horde alien’s head rolled free. Slade turned to the window, and spoke.
“If you run, you die. If you tell me where I can find your leader--”
Ten minutes later, he had his information, and had wrecked the smuggling warehouse before sending a message to the pillarbots. From what he understood, the Throne World Empire was trying to hide from the Hordes. So anybody smuggling with the Hordes was very serious business. That done, he left with one more stop to go.
As to the old stories that have long been here:
