Lady in the Blue Dress
Bullets scorched the low wall behind which Dhatch was crouched, sending chunks of debris flying in all directions. Another round of fire burst a hole just to the left of his now extremely precarious position.
‘Damn, these guys are persistent, I’ll give them that,’ Dhatch muttered to himself. Risking a quick glance towards the cultists’ position, he was met by a hail of sporadic gunfire from three separate spots. Dhatch ducked back down amid a torrent of dust and debris. Taking advantage of the improved concealment offered by the small dust storm, he sprung to his feet and sprinted out to the left towards the stairs, his long green-black jacket trailing behind him like a living shadow. The cultists were unprepared for this sudden dash, and, combined with their reduced visibility, what little shots they did fire were wildly off target. Not pausing for breath, Dhatch took the steps four at a time, reached the top, coolly took aim with his custom-improved bolt pistol “Krak”, drew a bead on the nearest cultist’s head, and promptly planted a bullet into the man’s cranium. Not stopping to admire his handiwork, Dhatch continued along the metal gantry and hauled his sinewy frame up onto the iron rungs of the ladder leading to the level above. The other two cultists had at this point tracked him, and more wild fire erupted from their location. Despite bullets ricocheting around his position perched midway up the ladder, Dhatch still managed to loose two shots, one of which created a gaping hole within the chest of the farthest cultist, who fell back wide eyed, too stunned to even scream. The remaining cultist gawked at his fallen comrade and at the rubble-strewn ground that could be seen through his wound, then turned back towards where he thought Dhatch was. What he saw instead was a red dotted line twinkling in the gathering gloom, creeping up his chest to land between his eyes. He didn’t even have time to blink.
Lowering his lasgun, Dhatch carefully removed the red dot laser site and re-clipped it to his belt. That brought the number of cultists he had encountered within the past 36 hours up to seven. Usually this was good news for the feared Bounty Hunters like himself, as it meant more opportunities to earn some extra Jhalks and gain a reputation. But finding them this close to The Nucleus, he had to wonder about their motives. Dhatch had encountered them enough during the long years of his profession, but never so many in so short a space of time, and never so organised. This was possibly only the second occasion he had been surprised by them, and, considering the circumstances, he had gotten off lightly.
Maybe I’m getting old, he mused. Chuckling at this thought, Dhatch headed back down towards the cultists’ position. Picking his way through the littered floor, he reached the first corpse. As far as he could tell from the face that he had half blown away, Dhatch noticed that this one could not have been out of his teens, and again wondered why these kids decided to join The Cerulean Ckiel. Quickly scanning through the filthy clothes, Dhatch retrieved the small blue pendant in the shape of a young winged lady intertwined with a snake he needed to claim his bounty. Leaving the cultists’ custom-built handguns, which were in such a bad state of repair that even the most desperate black-market trader wouldn’t fork out more than half a Jhalk for each one, Dhatch completed his search upon the other two equally filthy cultists. Again wondering why the kids did it, Dhatch picked himself up, and made his weary way back to The Nucleus.
The Nucleus. The last remaining safe haven for the populace of Erebuya 7. A fully shielded and enclosed dome extending for twenty-seven miles in each direction, reaching to a height of greater than eight miles at its apex, The Nucleus provided shelter to the tens of thousands of inhabitants who survived within its protective casing. Located at the very northern tip of the inhospitable planet, The Nucleus was the core of a sprawling cluster of steel, stretching into the distance for hundreds of miles. Though there were groups who came to dwell far outside the protection of The Nucleus, these exiles seldom survived long, in part due to the difficulty of finding the basic constituents of life, such as food, clean water, and ammunition, but mainly due to the environment. Beyond the reach of The Nucleus and its surrounding steel jungle, the planet of Erebuya 7 devolved into a toxic ash waste, stretching all the way to its southern tip, covering 98% of its total surface area. Without the essential equipment, venturing into the ash wastes was nothing short of suicide. If the thick ash or the toxic chemicals emitted from it didn’t get you, then the local inhabitants, the Goretey, would. They were the only recorded creatures that could subsist in the toxic environment, though no one had encountered one for several years; many believed them a myth. The inexorable encroachment of toxic ash upon the only city of Erebuya 7 meant that soon The Nucleus would be all that was left of a once important hive.
Dhatch arrived there early the following evening. His journey had thankfully been uneventful. The only other living creatures he had seen were the usual dangerous denizens of the hive: Kliyfs, large spiked black rat-analogues; Mnograds, thick metre long mauve millipedes with poisonous mandibles; and Spidfhers, large, extremely rapidly moving spiders, among others. To the inexperienced adventurer, these small critters posed greater problems than the other, more unique monsters that could be encountered in the dark, backwater areas of the hive. But for Dhatch, they presented nothing more than a nuisance.
His first site of the only entrance into The Nucleus, as always, took his breath away. The entire entrance structure stood in complete contrast to the rest of the rigid, ruined steel hive. If Dhatch believed in an eternal paradise, he imagined this is what it would look like. Huge sweeping white pillars flowed towards the intricately carved doors, which could easily allow twenty people to enter side by side, arms outstretched. Hundreds of guards, the elite Tyrilp, lined the avenue and kept strict order upon the numerous scavengers, hunters, traders, and local gangs who wished to access The Nucleus. As impressive as this was, what surrounded the entrance was what always amazed Dhatch. An endless curve of pure white, stretching further into the distance than his vision could take in, untainted by the corruption present in the rest of the hive. Not a stain, nor a single blast mark, could be seen upon the exceptionally tough living skin of the dome. Dhatch had no idea how, why, or even when The Nucleus was built, but the type of technology his ancestors must have possessed to create such a magnificent structure, and a living one at that, was beyond him. All Dhatch did know was that the technology required to craft such wonders had long vanished from this planet, leaving its inhabitants to only guess at the true potential that could be gained by understanding what the surface of The Nucleus was made of.
Passing through the tight security into the interior of The Nucleus, Dhatch’s vision of eternal paradise instantaneously evaporated. Compared to the pureness of the exterior dome, the inside almost immediately reverted back to the grim, run-down, dust filled atmosphere that he encountered everywhere else outside The Nucleus on his regular hunts. The sole exception was that the place was swarming with people. No matter how often he returned, or how long he stayed inside, Dhatch could never comprehend how so many individuals could spend their entire life within the neon-lit twilight of The Nucleus, and not once be curious enough to venture outside its protective body. Grumbling to himself, Dhatch made his routine way through the throng towards the only place he felt at least partially welcome, the Bounty Hunter’s Guild.
Situated less than a mile from the entrance, the Bounty Hunter’s Guild was one of the bigger and better run establishments, as fitted its purpose as the centre of a very important trade; that of criminals, mutants, heretics, and cultists. However, the building was just an average bar in the eyes of most of the public, which was the way the Guild preferred it. Quickly glancing at the outside notice board to see if any new news had been pinned up, Dhatch pushed open the door and entered the smoke-filled bar. Flashing a smile to the old burly barkeeper, Bruumoff, Dhatch trudged to the small door located at the rear to the left of the bar, entered the code, stooped through, and descended the tight metal staircase to the circular room below. Upon entering, he heard the familiar sound of an assortment of weapons being drawn and aimed his way. The Guild was especially careful of whom it let enter its lower chambers, after the particular incident a couple of years back, whereby the posthumously named “Suicidal Jack” ended the careers of several famous Bounty Hunters, including Craven, the most feared Bounty Hunter of all time. The impressive black scorch marks and red patterning on the once white walls still provided testament to the power of a single JH-class explosive.
‘Dhatch, 27147, password Anikana’ Dhatch spoke clearly to the sudden silence. At this confirmation, the other Bounty Hunters within the room re-holstered their weapons, and returned to their separate businesses. A few nodded Dhatch’s way, but most ignored him. Bounty Hunters had few friends, even amongst themselves, preferring to operate alone when outside The Nucleus. Returning the occasional nod, and stealing glances at the holo-screens to see what some of the others were working on, Dhatch strode over to the desk at the far end of the room, unhappily noting that Nepva, the obnoxious pay-master, was seated behind it. Reaching into one of his many hidden pockets, he retrieved the seven pendants he had collected during his time outside, and flicked them onto the table.
‘Seven pendants from The Cerulean Ckiel cultists, I see. That comes to thirty-five Jhalks,’ said Nepva, a small wiry man permanently hunched over his holo-screen, his burgundy cap obscuring his shadowed face. Without even glancing his way, he placed the allotted Jhalks on the table in front of Dhatch.
‘A measly thirty-five Jhalks! I got more than one hundred and twenty Jhalks for just the four I brought in last month! This doesn’t even cover the cost of replacement ammunition!’ exasperated Dhatch, knuckles whitening.
‘Well then, I suggest you keep on top of current affairs, old man. Since last month, the number of cultists belonging to The Cerulean Ckiel has shot up, meaning that every up and coming hot-shot novice has been able to bag at least one, and therefore the value of each pendant has rapidly decreased. Hence you only get thirty-five Jhalks, understand?’ sneered Nepva in his typically condescending tone.
‘And do you know why there has been a rise in the number of these particular cultists, and also in the amount of kids becoming them? The Cerulean Ckiel, as far as we know, only emerged three months ago, and has been very secretive up until recently. Damn, but they only became worryingly active a few weeks ago, and now you’re telling me that they’re everywhere?’ Dhatch asked through gritted teeth, forcing himself to remain calm.
‘Nope, nope, and yep,’ replied Nepva in the same condescending tone, finally raising his head to peer unflinchingly into Dhatch’s blue-eyed, lean face. This was too much for Dhatch, who swiped his measly reward off the desk, and stormed out of the room. Bursting back into the bar, Dhatch slumped down onto a grimy stool, motioned to Bruumoff for a SpidBrew, a potent drink made from the webs of Spidfhers, and unsuccessfully tried to calm himself.
‘What’s up, kiddo? That cheating creep Nepva being himself again?’ rumbled Bruumoff, his rotund face breaking into an infectious grin. ‘Here, you tell old Bruumoff your tale, and we’ll see if I can’t help you, hey? Don’t worry yourself with paying, the S’brew’s on the house.’
Thanking Bruumoff with a genuine smile, Dhatch recounted what had just happened.
‘Well now, there’s a puzzler, and no mistake.’ Bruumoff mused once Dhatch had finished. ‘However, I think I might be able to help you on that one.’ Leaning in very close, Bruumoff whispered to Dhatch, ‘Yesterday evening, a strange lady entered this bar, very striking she was, dressed all in shades of blue, and sat in that far corner there. Shortly after, a small ragged ratty-looking fellow joined her. I ambled over to take their orders, and what did I hear? Hand to heart, the lady in blue, in a strange accent I couldn’t place, clearly said “… dangerous. Next meeting in three days, must be outside. The members of The Cerulean Ckiel need me back with them to oversee the final stages. Sector 7, underneath the derelict ammunit...” It was at that point she noticed that I was within earshot, and so she promptly upped and left, without so much as a by your leave. The ratty fellow also scampered before I could reach him. What do you think of that then?’
‘You know, your eavesdropping ability still amazes me after all these years,’ Dhatch chuckled. ‘I think I know where they’re going to be. Sector 7, derelict ammunitions depot, about two full days hunt from here. This may well allow me to sever the head of The Cerulean Ckiel, and, going by their rapid rise to infamy, could also propel me to Craven-level fear! I owe you big time on this one, old friend.’
‘Just don’t forget me when you’re all famous, alright? Here, take these Jhalks, and get some decent supplies. And you better get going, only two days left till the meeting. Good luck, not that you’ll need it with your skill!’ Bruumoff handed fifty Jhalks to Dhatch, who, after one last thank you back, dashed from the bar, mind whirring with the details of his impending hunt.
Two hours later, under neon-lit darkness, Dhatch trekked determinedly back outside The Nucleus. Loaded with newly purchased supplies, including weapon reloads for Krak and his lasgun, his trusty old chainsword “Gaar”, photo-contacts to aid his vision, and a mid-priced Subsistor, an efficient little device strapped round his stomach allowing him to go without sustenance for four days, Dhatch picked his way past the Tyrilp and headed towards Sector 7.
The first night and morning, Dhatch made good progress, silently moving along one of his well known secret paths through the steel maze of the hive, not meeting another soul. Thanks to his photo-contacts and Subsistor, he rarely needed to stop or feed, and only once he had covered more than half the distance towards the ammunitions depot did he pause to recover his strength. After only a couple of hours light sleep, the most that is wise to take in the unforgiving hive, Dhatch continued along his journey. As he was sticking to unfrequented routes and keeping to the shadows, Dhatch continued to avoid contact with others. But his progress became much slower, as he was entering territory less well known to him. By late evening, he still had a quarter of a way to go, and less than 24 hours to do it in, but decided to stop and get some final rest before his critical encounter. After an hour spent searching for a suitable and secure resting place, Dhatch finally found one to his satisfaction, located high up with only one trapdoor entrance, and settled down for the night.
He jerked awake with a start. Getting quickly to his feet, Dhatch drew Krak and Gaar, and glanced furtively around. He couldn’t have been asleep for more than an hour, yet his time-honoured instincts told him something was out of place. There it was again! An audible clink, like that of Kliyf claws on metal, but amplified ten-fold. More clinks followed, the noise of each increasing with every passing second. Dhatch soon heard the unmistakable sound of heavy, sibilant breathing. Despite his years of experience, sweat began to trickle down Dhatch’s spine. He knew the noises of the hive, and this was definitely wrong. He edged towards the entrance, Krak extended. Suddenly, the clinking and hissing stopped. Silence descended. He heard his heartbeat pulsing. Steeling himself, Dhatch yanked open the trapdoor.
What he saw was beyond his worst nightmares. Intense sapphire eyes pitted within a grey-blue mottled snake’s head gazed fixedly up at him. The dark grey body below the long neck was scaled in thick shimmering plating, and the attached tri-jointed scaly legs and arms ended in sleek, four-way, bone-coloured pincers. Large ethereal wings protruded from the thing’s back. No doubt about it, this was one of the fabled Goretey.
Acting purely on reflex, Dhatch fired Krak at point-blank range, bursting apart the Goretey’s head. Before Dhatch could fire again, several other Goretey punched up through the steel flooring and zipped into the room. Flicking a switch, Dhatch activated Gaar, the whirring clatter of its serrated edge coming to life briefly drowning out the malevolent hissing of the Goretey. Then they were upon him. Dhatch was a skilled hand-to-hand combatant, but these alien were faster than anything he had fought before. Desperately hacking left and right, suffering a series of small but painful nicks and jabs, it was all he could do to defend himself from the multitude of striking claws and snapping teeth. Despite blasting another Goretey apart, the remaining four rapidly backed Dhatch into a corner.
‘Is that the best you scum have got!’ screamed Dhatch, wildly slashing the pincer off another Goretey.
How strange it is, that when confronted with certain death, all you humans can do is scream useless phrases towards your foes. Curious. However, you can relax now; my friends will no longer attack.
Sensing this thought, the Goretey immediately ceased their attack, and hovered away from Dhatch to reveal a tall, strikingly beautiful lady, robed in shimmering shades of blue, standing motionless by the trapdoor. Deep, pale, ice-blue eyes gazed intently out of an exquisitely carved face. Dhatch felt like he was drowning within their infinite depths. His breathing became ragged; his weapons clattered to the floor from lifeless fingers. He found himself being drawn towards this azure Angel. Nothing else seemed to matter but her; not the bounty, nor the reputation, nor Bruumoff, nor even his own meaningless existence. Dhatch wished nothing more than to serve this wondrous Essence from Heaven.
And so you shall, dear Dhatch. I have one very important plan for you in mind, which I’m sure you would love to perform for me, wouldn’t you? Once you succeed, the rewards will be beyond your wildest imagination.
The Lady in the Blue Dress smiled seductively, all the while embracing Dhatch’s yearning stare. Dhatch just nodded dumbly, too enthralled to even speak. He didn’t even notice the small scruffy rat-featured fellow enter through the trapdoor, who spoke to his Lady in his customary grating rasp.
‘I see you have recruited your final ally, mistress. Everything will be in place within the hour. All that is left for you to do is take up your position by the entrance, and, once this Bounty Hunter has performed his task, The Nucleus, and the entire of Erebuya 7, will belong to The Cerulean Ckiel.’
*******
Enjoy!
Wedge