Space Team: The Wrath of Vajazzle Page 11

  The torch barely scratched the surface of the darkness as Cal leaned in and peered along this potential new route. The slick, slimy walls curved away almost immediately, making it impossible to see more than a few feet along it.

  While he couldn’t see much, he could hear… something. It was a soft squelching sound that seemed to be coming from a long way down the tunnel. It was so faint he couldn’t be convinced he wasn’t imagining it, but something about the sound made him retreat back into the worm’s throat.

  Best to stick to the main path, he reckoned. The last thing he wanted to do was get lost, or accidentally stumble upon the bowels or something. Things were already quite bad enough.

  The stomach was several miles away, but fortunately he didn’t have to go that far. Kash had told him the key was hidden a few hundred feet past the lung-junction. He hadn’t mentioned anything about a second junction, though, and Cal was starting to get a little concerned.

  He tapped the side of his helmet again. “Helloooo? Anyone home?”

  As expected, no-one answered. Either the radio had malfunctioned, or the worm’s insides were blocking the signal. That was assuming, of course, that the others weren’t just playing a trick on him. He wouldn’t put it past them. Especially Mech.

  The hand in the ruined glove was starting to itch. He hoped he was just being paranoid. He’d take paranoia over flesh-eating acid any day of the week. He pulled what was left of the glove off and tossed it away. It landed in the viscous liquid with a faint splot, then sunk out of sight.

  The visor was cloudy where the acid had landed, but it didn’t seem to be eating through the glass. His boots, too, were holding up. If he could avoid getting any of the stuff on the rest of him, he should be fine.

  He could taste the acrid stink at the back of his throat. The cuff of his sleeve was tight around his wrist, but it wasn’t a perfect seal. He suspected a lungful of the air down here wouldn’t do him any favors.

  “He couldn’t just have hidden it under his bed like a normal person,” Cal muttered. “He had to stuff it inside a giant fonking worm monster.”

  The torch flickered across the fleshy walls as Cal waded on through the gunge. The key had to be around here somewhere, assuming it hadn’t been dissolved by digestive juices years ago. He pushed ahead, sweeping the thin light left, right, up, down, hunting for…

  WHANG!

  Cal’s helmet connected with a shoebox-sized metal canister. It hung in the air, supported by nothing at all. Cal passed his hand above and below it, searching for wires, but finding none.

  “OK, that’s pretty impressive,” he admitted. He wrapped his gloved hand around the container and pulled.

  It didn’t move.

  He took hold of the canister with both hands and pulled again. Again, it didn’t budge.

  Cal scratched his head. “Huh. OK. Awkward son-of-a-bedge, are you? How do you like this?”

  He battering-rammed the canister with his shoulder. The impact sent a shock of pain rattling through his shoulder and down his spine.

  “Ooh, ooh, ow, ow. That was a bad idea.”

  He hammered his fist on top of the container.

  He pushed it.

  He pulled it.

  He caught the bottom and tried to shake it around.

  Throughout it all, the container remained steadfastly fixed in place.

  Cal sighed. He tapped the side of his helmet. “Hello? How do I move this fonker?”

  There was a long moment of silence. Then, to Cal’s surprise, Kash’s voice rasped in his ear. “You don’t. You open it,” he said.

  “Aha, there you are!” said Cal. “Where have you been? I lost you for a while?”

  Kash didn’t reply. Cal tapped his helmet again. “Come on. Hello?”

  When he was met by yet more silence, he tutted, shrugged, then brought the light in for a closer look at the canister. There were a few symbols etched into the front of the metal. The chip embedded in Cal’s eye set to work. As he watched, the symbols swam and formed themselves into something less cryptic.

  “Press here,” he read. A little arrow indicated a tiny button the same color as the rest of the container. Cal used the pinkie finger of his ungloved hand to push it, then jumped back when a hatch in front of the container flipped down with a loud hydraulic hiss.

  A black cloth bag lay nestled inside the metal tube. Cal eyed the canister suspiciously as he moved closer. He held his hand poised, like a snake getting ready to strike. It’d be just his luck if the door slammed shut again while he was reaching inside, so he was determined to be in and out as quickly as he could.

  “OK, let’s do this,” he said, taking a series of deep breaths. He waited another few seconds in case the door started any funny business, then snapped his hand forward and yanked the bag free. The door didn’t move.

  Cal let out a sigh of relief, then jumped back and let out a little yelp when the hatch slammed itself closed a moment later. “Aah! Son-of-a-bedge!”

  He about-turned and tapped his communicator. “I got it, I’m headed back now,” he said, then he stopped as a high-pitched squeal trembled the walls ahead of him. “OK, what the Hell was that?” he whispered.

  The sound came again, accompanied this time by a series of gloopy squelches. It was definitely coming from somewhere up ahead. Which was unfortunate, as ‘somewhere up ahead’ also happened to be Cal’s only exit.

  Cal shoved the cloth bag into one of the pockets on front of his suit and set his jaw in determination. “Totally should have just stayed on Earth and let the bugs get me,” he muttered, then he strode onwards through the throat, darting his torch from side to side.

  As he drew level with the mouth of the mysterious third passageway, he heard the sound again. It screeched from somewhere down that tunnel, echoing damply off the fleshy walls. The squelching was louder here – the squirming wriggle of something moving around in the passage.

  And not just moving. Moving in itself wasn’t a problem. It was the fact the sound was moving closer that Cal didn’t like.

  “OK, I’m out,” he said, turning his back on the passageway and hurrying on. He didn’t need to know what was down there. In fact, he actively did not want to know what was down there.

  Unfortunately, what was down there seemed to have other ideas. The purple walls of the worm’s throat quivered as another screech echoed along it. Without even glancing back, Cal broke into a run, whispering, “Fonk, fonk, fonk, fonk, fonk!” in time with his crashing heartbeat.

  “There’s something in here!” he yelped, hoping for some words of comfort to bounce back at him over the radio.

  Nothing.

  He raced on. Another squeal rang out, and the floor bucked and heaved beneath him. Cal stumbled, tripped, felt his feet slip and the ground come lurching towards him. There was barely enough time for another round of hissed fonks before he splashed into the acidic slurry and slid, face-first, through it, his right arm twisted awkwardly to keep his bare hand out of the liquid.

  Kicking and scrambling, Cal fought back to his feet. The thick stench of burning fabric filled his helmet. The glass was so clouded now he could barely see a thing. He stumbled towards the vague oval of light that lay ahead, which he had to assume was the worm’s open mouth.

  How close was it? He couldn’t tell. Not fonking close enough for his liking. He stumbled blindly on, the space suit disintegrating around him. As the light grew brighter, he wrestled with the catch that held the helmet in place, and coughed as he pushed the glass dome off.

  The blazing sunshine of the world beyond was blinding, but he drove himself towards it, squinting as he threw off his rapidly-melting left glove. Whatever was behind him squelched and squealed again, and Cal was tossed into the air as the worm shifted its immense weight.

  He screamed as he was hurled through the air, then almost sobbed with relief as he hit the dry, dusty planet’s surface. The space suit had all but disintegrated, and as he
stood up what was left of it fell away, leaving him completely naked aside from an ill-fitting pair of shorts, and an even more ill-fitting pair of space boots.

  The scorching mid-day sun prickled his skin. Stooping, he picked up the cloth bag containing the key. Thankfully, the pocket had protected it from the acid. “Ha. Must be my lucky day,” Cal said, straightening again.

  It was then that he saw Loren, Mizette and Kash. They knelt on the sand near the Shatner, their hands behind their heads. Mech was nowhere to be seen, but a fourth figure stood right behind Loren, a long, slender blade pressed against her throat.

  “Vajazzle,” said Cal, and this time he didn’t find the word funny at all. He tried to smile, regardless. “What brings you way out here?”

  “The key,” said Vajazzle, her red eye flicking down to focus on the bag in Cal’s hand. “Bring it to me.”

  “Key? What key?” asked Cal. He held up the bag and shook it. “I don’t know anything about any key. This is my lunch.” He shifted his gaze to Loren. “Seriously? You couldn’t handle one old woman?”

  “She shut down our weapons,” Loren said. “And she powered down the Shatner’s systems.”

  “And your robot friend, too,” said Vajazzle. “That’s the problem with computer brains. So easy to switch off.”

  “Again, she’s an old woman,” said Cal. “Even without guns, you couldn’t handle her? I’m very disappointed in you guys.”

  “She’s tougher than she looks,” said Mizette. Cal could just make out some sort of handcuff-like set of bands around her wrists.

  “Yeah, but that’s not exactly saying much, she looks like she’d blow over in a stiff breeze,” said Cal. He flashed Vajazzle one of his most winning smiles. “Look, I think there’s been a misunderstanding here. We’re just out here, minding our own business, exploring a big worm. We don’t know anything about any--”

  Vajazzle yanked sharply back on Loren’s hair and pressed the blade more firmly against her throat. “Whoa! Wait!” Cal protested. “Don’t! OK? Just… just don’t.”

  “She wouldn’t dare,” spat Miz.

  Cal raised a hand in front of him, trying to calm the situation. “I don’t know, she looks pretty daring to me.”

  “You have an agreement with my father,” Miz said. “They are all under his protection.”

  “We’re a long way from the Greyx’s reach,” said Vajazzle. “Even so…”

  She released her grip on Loren. Kash spluttered in fright as she pressed the knife against his throat, instead. “Perhaps this one.”

  “OK, him I’m less concerned about – no offence,” said Cal, honestly.

  “None taken.”

  “But I’d still rather no-one got hurt here.”

  Behind him, a series of wet squelches farted out of the worm’s throat. Cal glanced sideways, partly hoping to see something in his peripheral vision, but mostly hoping he didn’t. He took a few steps away from the mouth, just in case.

  He could feel his skin burning in the sun. If he listened closely, he could probably hear it sizzling and crisping up under the full force of the harsh UV rays. Loren, Miz and Kash were kneeling just beyond the line of the Shatner’s shadow, while Vajazzle herself stood just inside the shade’s edge. If she wanted them dead, she wouldn’t have to kill them. She’d just have to wait.

  “OK, let’s say this is a key, and let’s say I give it to you, what then?” Cal asked.

  “I leave,” said Vajazzle. “Much as it goes against the grain, I leave you all alive, and I go.”

  Cal looked down at Loren and Miz. Their faces were giving nothing away. “It’s tempting,” said Cal. “But how do I know I can trust you?”

  “You don’t, and you can’t,” said Vajazzle. “But I’d consider your other choices carefully.”

  Cal considered his other choices carefully. It didn’t take long as it wasn’t a particularly long list to get through.

  “Fine,” he said. “You can have it.”

  “Throw it to me,” Vajazzle instructed.

  Cal held the bag by one corner, drew back his arm and tossed it over his head. It fluttered through the air, then landed with a soft paff in the sand halfway between him and Lady Vajazzle. They both looked at it for a few seconds.

  “Throw it to me, I said. Not in my general direction.”

  “The wind must’ve caught it,” said Cal. “I can throw way further than that normally.”

  “Pick it up. Toss it over.”

  Cal shot the worm’s mouth another worried glance as more squelching squirmed around inside it. He set off towards the bag, the heat pressing down on him with every step. His feet felt like they were melting inside the boots, but he knew the bare skin wouldn’t last long in the scorching sand.

  As he bent to pick up the key, he staggered and clutched at his head. “Whoa,” he muttered, toppling over and landing heavily on top of the bag. The sand stung his exposed flesh, and he frantically struggled back to his feet, trying to flick the worst of it away.

  “Ow! Ow! Hot!”

  He wiped the sweat from his brow and held up the bag. “I don’t know if I can throw it again,” he rasped. “I’ll bring it over.”

  “No need,” said Vajazzle. She held a hand up, forming a claw with her fingers. Cal gasped in surprise as the bag was torn from his grip. He watched it zip through the air towards Vajazzle, who caught it in one swift grab.

  “Wow, that’s impressive,” Cal said. “Was that the Force? That was totally the Force, wasn’t it?” He breathed heavily and lowered his voice. “Join me. Together we can rule the galaxy as father and son.”

  Everyone stared at him, blankly.

  “No?” he said. “Empire Strikes Back?” He sighed and shook his head. “Forget it. You’ve got the key, Vajazzle, so go.”

  Vajazzle’s eyes narrowed. “Of course, you could save everyone a lot of trouble by coming with me,” she said. “If you let me bring you to Sinclair, he may even let your friends live. Or some of them, at least.”

  Cal shifted around on the hot sand, considering this.

  “Let me make it simple for you,” said Vajazzle. “I am going to take you to Sinclair. It can be now, and no-one else needs to die, or it can be later, after many, many deaths. The choice is yours.”

  Cal looked first at Loren, then at Miz. They both shook their heads, ever so slightly. He looked at Kash, too, but all his attention was on the knife at his throat.

  Just as Cal opened his mouth to reply, a movement on the Shatner’s ramp caught his eye. “Just before I answer that, I want to ask you something. You said that you’d shut down our weapons and ship’s systems and… what else was it?”

  Beneath Vajazzle’s hood, her non-robot eye twinkled. “Your robot companion.”

  “Ah yes, that’s right, that was it,” said Cal. He clicked his fingers and smiled back at her. “But, well, you see, the thing is…”

  The ramp creaked behind Vajazzle. She spun to find Mech looming over her. “I ain’t no fonking robot!” he growled, then he drove a fist into the center of her face, sending her sprawling, head-first, onto the sand.

  Loren, Miz and Kash got quickly to their feet. Cal joined them, and they all stood around the motionless Vajazzle, looking down.

  “Dude, you just punched an old woman right in the face,” said Cal.

  “She was asking for it. And at least it wasn’t no little girl,” said Mech.

  Cal raised a finger. “Hey, I’ll have you know that that little girl was very aggressive, and much stronger than she looked,” he pointed out.

  “What kept you?” Mizette demanded, holding her cuffed hands out to Mech. He took hold of the restraints and snapped them in two, then did the same with Loren’s. Kash hadn’t posed enough of a threat to be wearing any.

  “Whatever she used to scramble the electronics messed some of my stuff up, too,” Mech explained. “I got moving again as quick as I could.”

  “Is she dead?” aske
d Loren.

  Mech realized all her eyes were on him. “How should I know?” He tapped one arm. “Her system scrambling shizz shut down my scanners.”

  Cal bent at the waist so he was leaning over the fallen assassin. “You alright, sweetheart?” he asked, raising his voice. “You’ve had an accident.”

  He waited for a moment, shrugged, then reached for her hood. “She’s totally dead,” he said, pulling the hood away.

  A twisted, grotesque face leered up at him from the back of Vajazzle’s bald head. Cal leaped back as it hissed at him through its rotten teeth.

  “Jesus Christ!” he cried. “She’s got another face! Did we know she had another face?”

  Vajazzle’s lifeless body suddenly became much less so. Her legs bent, folding her upright into a kneeling position. The bulbous, bloodshot eyes of her second face glared angrily as something thrashed and wriggled beneath her midnight robe.

  She shuffled jerkily towards Cal. He shoved her away and danced back. “Argh! Fonk off!” He shot Mech a sideways glance. “What are you waiting for? Punch her again.”

  Mech raised his fist, but a long, tentacle-like limb whipped out from inside Vajazzle’s robe, swiping his legs out from under him. For a moment, he went horizontal, then slammed down onto the sand with a ground-shaking thud.

  Miz flicked out her claws and lunged, but another swiping tentacle cracked like a whip across her face and she stumbled against the side of the Shatner, blood trickling down her fur.

  “OK, that’s not good,” Cal said. Spotting the key bag on the ground, he made a diving grab for it, ducking just as a tentacle-arm scythed above him. “You want this?” he cried, waving in the assassin’s general direction. “Come get it.”

  And then, with the sun burning his back, his metal boots pulling him down and a two-faced tentacle-monster grabbing at his heels, he ran.