Read Online World of Fire (Dev Harmer 01) by James Lovegrove - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: James Lovegrove
Tags: Science-Fiction
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about her job, her responsibilities. If an ISS consultant went missing, the company would want to know what had become of him, and Kahlo would be the person they leaned on. They’d demand answers from her, explanations. She had to be concerned about him if she valued her career.
Patience was what Dev needed now. The ability to sit tight and wait without succumbing to fear or despair.
He stretched his legs out, rested his hands on the geode floor...
Something under his left palm moved .
Dev sprang to his feet.
He had touched something hard. Smooth. Alive.
He looked down to see just about the most disgusting animal he had ever laid eyes on.
10
I T WAS THE size of a small dog, with a rounded shiny carapace and a dozen legs. A segmented tail curved over the top of its abdomen, tipped with a sharp, ugly point. A sting.
It had not liked having a hand placed on it. Now it stood stock still, its stance wary and aggressive. Two thick forelimbs were raised, pincers agape, waiting for Dev to make a move. It was sizing him up with a cluster of black, beady eyes set below a projecting chitinous brow, assessing just how much of a threat he presented. An ominous, rattling hiss issued from its multiple mouth parts.
Dev, too, stood stock still, biting back his revulsion.
The creature gradually, grudgingly, lowered its forelimbs. It trod sideways a few steps, then addressed itself to a patch of the bioluminescent slime mould on the geode wall. A smaller, secondary set of forelimbs extruded just below its stumpy head, like ultra-articulate mandibles, and with these it commenced scooping up the mould and popping it into a dextrous, rippling mouth, almost daintily fastidious.
Every now and then it swivelled towards Dev, tail twitching, and let out another hiss interspersed with soft clicks. This was as if to say: My slime mould. All mine. Stay away, or else.
Dev wished he could somehow tell the thing that he didn’t want its wretched mould. It could have the stuff all to itself. He didn’t want even to go near the animal, and he certainly didn’t want to come between it and its feast.
The creature was, he thought, like a cockroach crossed with a scorpion. Two nightmares in one – but bigger.
A moleworm gnawing a scroach .
That was how Thorne, the union leader, had described Dev, paying tribute to his tenacity. Dev had no idea what a ‘moleworm’ looked like but he would be very surprised if this thing in front of him wasn’t a ‘scroach.’ The name fit it to a T.
He began backing away, moving as slowly as a sloth, laying down one foot toe-to-heel, soundlessly, then the other. Every time the creature – the scroach – paused in its eating and turned towards him, he froze.
Was that sting deadly?
He thought so. Judging by the size of the topmost joint of the scroach’s tail, its venom gland had to have a good quarter-pint capacity. That much poison injected in to him would be agonisingly painful at the very least, more likely lethal. The sheer volume alone might trigger fatal anaphylaxis.
As he reached the nearest fissure that led out of the geode, Dev spied a second scroach crawling into view. It scuttled over to join the first beside the slime mould. There was a brief altercation. Forelimbs waved, pincers snapping open and shut. Pugnacious semaphore. Each creature unleashed a volley of irate chittering hisses at the other.
The new arrival was somewhat larger, and in the end the first scroach backed off, going to a smaller patch of mould.
Through the fissure Dev intended to exit by, a third scroach now appeared.
Oh, this was just splendid. Lovely. He was smack dab in the middle of a convention of oversized Alighierian arthropods. How many more of the buggers were there round here?
Pressing himself flat against the wall of the geode, Dev watched the three scroaches circle around one another. Their tails were up and swaying from side to side like cobras, dewdrops of venom glistening at the tips of their
Patience was what Dev needed now. The ability to sit tight and wait without succumbing to fear or despair.
He stretched his legs out, rested his hands on the geode floor...
Something under his left palm moved .
Dev sprang to his feet.
He had touched something hard. Smooth. Alive.
He looked down to see just about the most disgusting animal he had ever laid eyes on.
10
I T WAS THE size of a small dog, with a rounded shiny carapace and a dozen legs. A segmented tail curved over the top of its abdomen, tipped with a sharp, ugly point. A sting.
It had not liked having a hand placed on it. Now it stood stock still, its stance wary and aggressive. Two thick forelimbs were raised, pincers agape, waiting for Dev to make a move. It was sizing him up with a cluster of black, beady eyes set below a projecting chitinous brow, assessing just how much of a threat he presented. An ominous, rattling hiss issued from its multiple mouth parts.
Dev, too, stood stock still, biting back his revulsion.
The creature gradually, grudgingly, lowered its forelimbs. It trod sideways a few steps, then addressed itself to a patch of the bioluminescent slime mould on the geode wall. A smaller, secondary set of forelimbs extruded just below its stumpy head, like ultra-articulate mandibles, and with these it commenced scooping up the mould and popping it into a dextrous, rippling mouth, almost daintily fastidious.
Every now and then it swivelled towards Dev, tail twitching, and let out another hiss interspersed with soft clicks. This was as if to say: My slime mould. All mine. Stay away, or else.
Dev wished he could somehow tell the thing that he didn’t want its wretched mould. It could have the stuff all to itself. He didn’t want even to go near the animal, and he certainly didn’t want to come between it and its feast.
The creature was, he thought, like a cockroach crossed with a scorpion. Two nightmares in one – but bigger.
A moleworm gnawing a scroach .
That was how Thorne, the union leader, had described Dev, paying tribute to his tenacity. Dev had no idea what a ‘moleworm’ looked like but he would be very surprised if this thing in front of him wasn’t a ‘scroach.’ The name fit it to a T.
He began backing away, moving as slowly as a sloth, laying down one foot toe-to-heel, soundlessly, then the other. Every time the creature – the scroach – paused in its eating and turned towards him, he froze.
Was that sting deadly?
He thought so. Judging by the size of the topmost joint of the scroach’s tail, its venom gland had to have a good quarter-pint capacity. That much poison injected in to him would be agonisingly painful at the very least, more likely lethal. The sheer volume alone might trigger fatal anaphylaxis.
As he reached the nearest fissure that led out of the geode, Dev spied a second scroach crawling into view. It scuttled over to join the first beside the slime mould. There was a brief altercation. Forelimbs waved, pincers snapping open and shut. Pugnacious semaphore. Each creature unleashed a volley of irate chittering hisses at the other.
The new arrival was somewhat larger, and in the end the first scroach backed off, going to a smaller patch of mould.
Through the fissure Dev intended to exit by, a third scroach now appeared.
Oh, this was just splendid. Lovely. He was smack dab in the middle of a convention of oversized Alighierian arthropods. How many more of the buggers were there round here?
Pressing himself flat against the wall of the geode, Dev watched the three scroaches circle around one another. Their tails were up and swaying from side to side like cobras, dewdrops of venom glistening at the tips of their
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