Read Online Dominant Species Volume Two -- Edge Effects (Dominant Species Series) by David Coy - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: David Coy
Tags: Fiction, Science-Fiction, series, Space Opera, Alien, Dystopian, space, contagion, outbreak, infections
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smooth, beveled hole on the side of the device. When
the tool was held at the ready, the hole would nest the user’s thumb perfectly.
The switch at the bottom of the hole, however, was too deep to reach with the
length of a normal human thumb. A former owner had fashioned an extension of
leather and bone which, when strapped to the user’s own digit, produced the
required length. Kelly held the cool, thick rod under his arm and strapped on
the extension.
Holding the device out and pointed slightly down, he slipped his
artificially lengthened thumb into the hole until the end of it came in contact
with the switch.
He pressed down.
There was no sound of a motor, only the snick and click of hard
metal against metal as the end of the device opened up as if alive, seams
appearing in the perfect construction where there were no seams. The tendrils
came first. Segmented like a string of polished black pearls and ending with
sharp red tips, they snaked out into a pattern like a grasping hand. Next came
the blades, three double-edged rapiers that snapped out to form a wicked triad
in the center of the tendrils. He pushed down a little harder, and the blades
began to machinate in and out and back and forth at random, chewing the air
with the sound of heavy shears. The tendrils grabbed, pierced and held tight;
the blades cut and gnawed at the victim with unstoppable savagery, turning
flesh and bone to puree.
Kelly had no idea what its original use was. But he knew what he
liked, and what he liked was to kill people with it.
He turned it off, and the blades and tendrils vanished back
inside, leaving no outward clue to their existence.
Then he squatted down, extended his arms out on his knees and
waited for darkness.
He replayed the times he’d used his toy in the past, going over
each detail, listening to the screams and grunts and begging as the blades
worked in and out and back and forth, sawing and cutting. Fifteen years of
faces from a dozen planets, each different, yet each the same in their moment
of horror.
He planned out each move he’d make from here to Joan Thomas’
bedside. He’d have to kill the Habershaw guy, too, but that was no problem.
He’d club him, then do Joan. When he was finished with her, he’d work the tool
over Habershaw. He could see them now and feel the grinding, slashing power of
the wand as it worked. No human killer could do what the tool was capable of.
They’d be looking for an alien monster if they looked for anything at all, not
a human killer—just like always.
Off-world law enforcement was its own worst enemy. Kelly had taken
advantage of that and the lack of inter-company communications for fifteen
years. Contract cops were barely able to guard themselves, let alone track a
serial killer from planet to planet. Besides, no one gave a shit what happened
to off-world contractors.
Hank Kelly was good at what he did. Blood splashed on his naked
skin was easily showered off, and a carefully shaved body and head left no hair
or skin as evidence. The key was stealth; not being seen or heard. The tattoos
helped to camouflage him and quiet night was the time to stalk and kill. In the
off-chance they searched his room, they’d find nothing. Just an odd and ornate
alien rod, perfectly clean—a somewhat strange souvenir from a distant world.
He closed his eyes and a sigh of pleasure deep in his guts rose up
his throat and out like a porcine grunt.
He waited until well after dark before he moved.
He crept to the rear door and went outside. The distant sound of
muffled laughter reached him before he closed the door. The twin moons were
high, almost straight up and bathed the ground in pale white light. He’d never
seen such bright moonlight, and he needed to get out of it fast.
Insects flew into him as he ran. He began to think some clothing
would have been a good idea, but the sense of complete nakedness had always
heightened his pleasure when he had his little freelance outings.
It took
the tool was held at the ready, the hole would nest the user’s thumb perfectly.
The switch at the bottom of the hole, however, was too deep to reach with the
length of a normal human thumb. A former owner had fashioned an extension of
leather and bone which, when strapped to the user’s own digit, produced the
required length. Kelly held the cool, thick rod under his arm and strapped on
the extension.
Holding the device out and pointed slightly down, he slipped his
artificially lengthened thumb into the hole until the end of it came in contact
with the switch.
He pressed down.
There was no sound of a motor, only the snick and click of hard
metal against metal as the end of the device opened up as if alive, seams
appearing in the perfect construction where there were no seams. The tendrils
came first. Segmented like a string of polished black pearls and ending with
sharp red tips, they snaked out into a pattern like a grasping hand. Next came
the blades, three double-edged rapiers that snapped out to form a wicked triad
in the center of the tendrils. He pushed down a little harder, and the blades
began to machinate in and out and back and forth at random, chewing the air
with the sound of heavy shears. The tendrils grabbed, pierced and held tight;
the blades cut and gnawed at the victim with unstoppable savagery, turning
flesh and bone to puree.
Kelly had no idea what its original use was. But he knew what he
liked, and what he liked was to kill people with it.
He turned it off, and the blades and tendrils vanished back
inside, leaving no outward clue to their existence.
Then he squatted down, extended his arms out on his knees and
waited for darkness.
He replayed the times he’d used his toy in the past, going over
each detail, listening to the screams and grunts and begging as the blades
worked in and out and back and forth, sawing and cutting. Fifteen years of
faces from a dozen planets, each different, yet each the same in their moment
of horror.
He planned out each move he’d make from here to Joan Thomas’
bedside. He’d have to kill the Habershaw guy, too, but that was no problem.
He’d club him, then do Joan. When he was finished with her, he’d work the tool
over Habershaw. He could see them now and feel the grinding, slashing power of
the wand as it worked. No human killer could do what the tool was capable of.
They’d be looking for an alien monster if they looked for anything at all, not
a human killer—just like always.
Off-world law enforcement was its own worst enemy. Kelly had taken
advantage of that and the lack of inter-company communications for fifteen
years. Contract cops were barely able to guard themselves, let alone track a
serial killer from planet to planet. Besides, no one gave a shit what happened
to off-world contractors.
Hank Kelly was good at what he did. Blood splashed on his naked
skin was easily showered off, and a carefully shaved body and head left no hair
or skin as evidence. The key was stealth; not being seen or heard. The tattoos
helped to camouflage him and quiet night was the time to stalk and kill. In the
off-chance they searched his room, they’d find nothing. Just an odd and ornate
alien rod, perfectly clean—a somewhat strange souvenir from a distant world.
He closed his eyes and a sigh of pleasure deep in his guts rose up
his throat and out like a porcine grunt.
He waited until well after dark before he moved.
He crept to the rear door and went outside. The distant sound of
muffled laughter reached him before he closed the door. The twin moons were
high, almost straight up and bathed the ground in pale white light. He’d never
seen such bright moonlight, and he needed to get out of it fast.
Insects flew into him as he ran. He began to think some clothing
would have been a good idea, but the sense of complete nakedness had always
heightened his pleasure when he had his little freelance outings.
It took
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