Dex Wexler: Space Detective (Chronicles of Bif Book 1)

by Richard Langridge

  I threw a frantic glance towards Luna and Henry, hoping they’d be able to jump in and provide the assistance of which I was so obviously unable (and not just because I was trapped on a high platform in the middle of a gunfight). But of course, they were busy holding off the remaining Enforcer dudes. I’d get no help from them.

  I looked to Dex. Back to Henry and Luna. To Dex again. All the while, the evil and possibly haunted jelly-bomb continued to flash away behind me, its strange number-lights blinking now faster than ever.

  I had no idea what to do. If we didn’t disarm the bomb, the citadel and all the surrounding area would be blown to smithereens. And unfortunately, right at that very moment, Dex was the only one who could disarm it, and he was currently busy finding out what being beaten to death felt like. Luna and Henry were indisposed, pinned down by blaster fire. So that was a no-go.

  I just didn’t know what to do.

  For the first time in my life, I felt completely helpless.

  Dex turned his head to look at me. ‘ACK-ACK-ACK-ACK-ACK!’

  ‘What?!’

  He pried the big guy’s hand from his throat. ‘The Subatomic Discombobulator, Bif! Use the Subatomic—ACK-ACK-ACK!’

  I blinked as the obvious dawned.

  The Subatomic Discombobulator! Of course!

  I reached behind me to where the item in question lay stowed. Looking at it again now, I had to say it looked more like a wand than a truncheon—except, that was, for the whole “comprised of solid steel and covered in buttons” part, which admittedly wasn’t very wand-like.

  I held it up high. ‘Okay, I got it! Now what?!’

  ‘THE RED BUTTON, BIF! HIT THE RED—ACK-ACK-ACK!’

  I pointed it towards the chair.

  I took a deep breath.

  Please God don’t let me die wearing this stupid outfit…

  I hit the button.

  I don’t know what I was expecting to happen. I mean, sure, I was expecting something to happen. But not this.

  The Discombobulator farted as a beam of blinding light shot out the end of it, bucking so hard it almost blew right out of my hands. It roared as sparks flew from its base, a terrible vibration racing up my arms as it did so. How I managed to hold on, I’ll never know. It was like trying to grip lightning.

  It seemed to go on forever, but after only a few seconds the flashing stopped. The vibration that had until then been so strong I seriously thought it was going to break my arm, also quit.

  Then, just like that, it was over.

  I stared at what remained of the chair.

  Before, it had been a wonder of creation; a manufacturing masterpiece, all gold and sleek and regal. Now all that was left of it was a smouldering pile of slime on the platform, still bubbling in places.

  It had liquefied it. The bomb, too (actually what had happened was the Discombobulator “dismantled it at a subatomic level, reducing it to its base elements”, though I wouldn’t know that until much later).

  No doubt realizing their plan was foiled, the remaining CSEA agents (the hulking behemoth included) all began to scarper, clambering all over themselves as they attempted to flee. Nobody made a move to stop them—not that this surprised me much. All things aside, there had been far too much shooting of folks for one day already.

  Still rubbing his throat, Dex trundled over and helped me down from the platform. He gestured at the Discombobulator. ‘See, Bif? Foreshadowing. What did I tell you?’

  ‘Is it over?’

  He nodded. ‘For now. Though, I reckon the CSEA—the real CSEA, that is—are going to have their hands full trying to explain how so many of their agents managed to turn all homicidal like that. I really wouldn’t like to be in their shoes right about now.’

  Just then, Luna and Henry rushed over, still with their blasters raised high.

  ‘Is it over?’ said Luna. ‘Did we win?’

  ‘Uh-huh,’ said Dex. ‘Bif used the Subatomic Discombobulator to turn the bomb into slime—and just in time, too. Of course, I was just about to jump up and take care of it, but seeing as it’s Bif’s first adventure, and all, I thought I’d let him have all the glory.’ He shot me a look. ‘You’re welcome for that, by the way.’

  ‘All right, Bif!’ cried Luna. She raised her hand, waited for me to slap it—which, reluctantly, I did. Not that I didn’t appreciate the gesture, or anything. But recently averted crisis aside, I was very tired. I thought I could have slept for a month.

  I looked around at all the mess, all the many holes in the walls. ‘So, uh, what do we do now?’

  ‘Come on, gang,’ said Dex, throwing his arms around our shoulders. ‘It’s beer time.’

  11

  As would turn out, we would have to wait a while before heading off for some much-earned celebratory drinks.

  With the assassination attempt on the Lord Chancellor’s life now over, it wasn’t long before the citadel found itself once more bustling with people—most of which were CSEA (the good ones, that is), all no doubt attempting to figure out what the hell happened, how so many of their people could go all turncoat at once. Questions were asked and explanations demanded, most of which by the Council members themselves, who shouted and stomped their feet like petulant children. I guessed Dex was right when he said he wouldn’t want to be in the CSEA’s shoes right now.

  Fortunately for us, there were still plenty of drinks lying around within the citadel to keep ourselves satiated (this was a party, after all), so while we waited for the folks in charge to give us the green light to go, we indulged ourselves in a little of, what Dex had called, “the good stuff” (which to my lips just tasted like the same old “bad stuff” we’d until then been drinking, only way stronger).

  ‘Hey, Bif? Luna?’

  I turned to look at Dex sat Indian-style atop one of the tables nearest the door. He had a glass in each hand, a somber look on his face.

  ‘Yeah, Dex?’

  ‘I just wanted to say, you know. About the whole “lying to you thing” earlier—’

  Luna groaned. ‘We get it. You were right. Let it go, already.’

  ‘Would you just shut up a sec and let me talk, woman?’ He ran a hand through his magnificent mane. ‘Look, what I’m trying to say is—I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lied to you guys like that. That was wrong. But the truth is, I was scared. I’ve never really had friends before, see. And I was worried if you knew who I really was, you’d leave. And I didn’t want that. Didn’t want to be alone again…’

  I studied the expression on his face.

  So Dex had acted the way he had out of fear of being abandoned. And while I couldn’t say I understood exactly how he felt in that regard, I knew all too well the reality of being alone. I wondered if we had been too hard on him, after all.

  ‘It’s okay, Dex,’ I said. ‘We understand.’

  ‘Because the truth is, I’m not a detective,’ he went on, turning now to look at us fully. ‘I’m a superhero. That’s right. When I was ten, a chance encounter with a chemical spill left me with the power to see even while blind. Since then I’ve been using these same powers to fight crime both within and outside of the justice system, using my devilish good looks to trick people into thinking I’m blind before kicking the living piss out of them for being prejudiced assholes. They call me, “The Man Who Dares”. To fight—injustice, that is. Did I mention I’m blind? Yeah, I’m pretty awesome.’

  Luna made a face like she was contemplating strangling him to death, but before she could, Lord Chancellor Zeb was walking over to us.

  He stepped in front of where we stood, twig-like fingers clasped neatly out in front of him. Strangely, he didn’t look that tall anymore—and not just in the way that he no longer had his enormous hat, said hat having no doubt gotten lost in all the kerfuffle. ‘Gentlemen. Young lady. I really can’t thank you enough for what you did. My fellow Council members and I would not be alive right now if it weren’t for your efforts. We owe you our most sincerest gratitude.’

&
nbsp; ‘That’s right,’ said Dex.

  ‘Which brings me onto the next topic at hand…’ He gestured at Henry stood beside him. ‘Your friend here tells me you flunked out of the academy when you were young?’

  ‘FOR THE LAST TIME, I DIDN’T PEE MY GODDAMN PANTS, OKAY?’

  The Lord Chancellor cleared his throat. ‘Err, right. Well, what I mean to say is, in light of recent events, I see no reason why we can’t make you a fully fledged member of the CSEA.’

  ‘You mean I can be a detective?’ said Dex. His eyes were very wide. ‘For real?’

  ‘That is correct—after all, it’s the least we can do.’

  ‘WOOHOO!’ He began to jump and dance on the spot. ‘YEAH! YOU HEAR THAT? SUCK MY ASS, RUK!’

  From across the chamber, surrounded by what I guessed were Etaria’s version of EMTs, a still-clinging-to-life Ruk slowly raised his head. ‘Huh?’

  ‘WOO-HOO! WOO—’ Dex’s gaze suddenly landed on Luna and I, and he stopped dancing. He turned back to the Lord Chancellor instead. ‘Actually, uh… now that I think about it, I don’t think I can accept your offer, after all.’

  The Lord Chancellor frowned. ‘What? Why not? Isn’t this what you always wanted, Dex?’

  ‘Well see, I used to think that being a detective for the CSEA was what I wanted. To be part of something important, to have a family.’ He shot a glance back to Luna and I. ‘But I see now that I already have one.’

  The Lord Chancellor observed us a moment, before finally nodding. ‘I see. Well, if there’s ever anything else I can ever do—’

  Dex held up a finger. ‘Actually, Lord Chancellor,’ he said, face lighting up in a mischievous grin. ‘There is one thing you can do…’

  Epilogue

  Things moved pretty quickly over the course of the next few days.

  As further way of saying thank you, the Lord Chancellor (in his infinite generosity) offered to put us up in one of his personal—what I guess you’d call “hotels”—for the night, said hotel taking the form of an orbiting satellite shaped in what I was pretty sure was an image of his own gargantuan head. As far as hotels shaped like alien heads went, it was pretty nice. Or maybe not; to be honest, after spending all that time bunking in Steve’s spare quarters, a feces-riddled dumpster behind Best Buy probably would have sufficed.

  Most of this time we’d spent hanging about the place’s onsite bar, watching Dex continue to celebrate our win in the only way he knew how—by excessive drinking. Seriously, how that guy was even still alive by this point is a goddamn mystery.

  One night turned into two, two nights into three.

  Then, on the fourth day, it was finally time.

  We returned to the surface, refreshed and invigorated the way only a long weekend spent aboard a gigantic floating head can, before immediately heading over to the Square, where we were then made to wait by a fountain made out of what looked to be pure gold while Dex hurried off to, and I quote, “go check something”. As to what exactly this “something” was, we had no idea. Despite days having passed since our rescuing of the Lord Chancellor, he had still yet to confide in us exactly what kind of arrangement it was he and the guy had come to. And while I was admittedly curious as to what an intergalactic space adventurer with a penchant for fraud and petty crime might want, there was a part of me—quite a big part, if I’m honest—that was afraid to find out.

  It wasn’t until Dex returned minutes later, however, and I saw the long stretches of fabric clutched in his hand, that the first real urge to pee myself hit.

  ‘What are those?’ I said.

  ‘Blindfolds.’

  ‘No, I can see that. I mean why do you have them?’

  ‘Oh, you’ll see.’ He handed them to us. ‘Now put them on.’

  ‘Yeah, I’m not wearing that,’ said Luna, who was busy staring at the blindfolds like they were a pair of dick and balls.

  ‘Look, would you just put them on already? I promise it’ll be worth it. Now hurry up.’

  Realizing he wasn’t going to quit until he got what he wanted, we took a blindfold each and quickly tied them around our eyes.

  And thus, the long, perilous walk began. Naturally, I was terrified; I mean, heck, I had a hard enough time following Dex’s lead when I wasn’t blindfolded.

  Luckily for us, however, it wasn’t much of a walk.

  Less than five minutes after leaving the fountain, we were suddenly pulled to a stop, the two of us hit by a succession of different smells and sounds, both of I which I intuited instantly to be that of a bustling sidewalk. There really is no smell quite like that of people-traffic (even when those people aren’t, strictly speaking, “people”). This was followed shortly afterward by the sound of a door opening, and then before we knew it we were being ushered out of the noise, into a space that smelled, quite impossibly, like wood varnish.

  ‘Ta-da!’ said Dex.

  He whipped the blindfolds up from around our heads.

  We were in some hallway. About twenty feet long. The walls were made of dark wood, as were the floorboards, and pretty much everything else I could see, if I’m honest. At the end of the hall sat a large plant pot, with some kind of weird, Venus flytrap-type thing poking out of it, looking sinister and not at all out of place. Ahead of us in the hallway, two lobster-like creatures in overalls were busy applying what looked like stenciling to a door made entirely of frosted glass, though for the moment I couldn’t make out exactly what it was the stenciling said.

  ‘Well?’ said Dex. He studied our faces. ‘What do you guys think? Is this cool, or what?’

  I opened my mouth to ask where exactly we were, but then the lobster-men stepped out of the way, and—

  My eyes fell on the frosted glass, where to my surprise and dismay, four words were now written.

  He didn’t. Please tell me he didn’t.

  DEX WEXLER’S DETECTIVE AGENCY

  My mouth fell open.

  I suddenly found it very hard to breathe.

  ‘Wait—this is the deal you made?’ I said.

  ‘Right? Is it awesome, or what?’

  ‘So does this mean…’

  ‘That I’m a detective now?’ He nodded. ‘That’s right, Bif. Your boy Dex is now one hundred percent, officially on the books.’

  I tilted my gaze around at Luna, expecting her to be just as shocked and dismayed by the sight of all this as I was. But she only shrugged.

  ‘You know, I got to admit, I actually kind of like it,’ she said. ‘It’s cute.’

  ‘Right?’ said Dex. ‘Come on! You haven’t even seen the best part!’

  We followed as he quickly led us through the door, up a set of narrow steps, before finally emerging in a large space, equally wood-themed, above which a single spinning fan lay in the ceiling, noisily pushing air around. At the far end of the room, surrounded by an ocean of open space (for whatever reason), was a large desk, atop which nothing but a single placard lay, the words LUNA REYES: RECEPTIONIST, written upon it in bold type.

  ‘Uh, Dex…?’ said Luna.

  ‘And this over here—’ said Dex, ignoring her. ‘Is my office.’ He gestured to the left of the desk, where a wall of frosted glass stood. We stepped over to it at once, then through the equally frosted-glass door (seriously, was that like a theme here, or…?).

  Whereas the rest of the building held a design more typical of your old-school detective movies, here, in Dex’s office, couldn’t have been more different.

  Dart boards. Drinks cabinets. Mini bars. What looked suspiciously like a set of matching pool tables. Arcade machines lay spread all around, every one of them Pac-Man. A set of matching tattered couches sat on either side of the room, possibly leather (though exactly what creature the leather had come from, I’ll leave that to your imagination).

  While Luna and I stared at all the stuff, speechless, Dex stepped over to the wall furthest away at the back and slid over part of the paneling, revealing a well-lit stretch of secret compartment lined with objects.

>   ‘What’s this?’ I said.

  ‘Trophy cabinet. I’m thinking of putting keepsakes from all of our many adventures in here. I don’t know, maybe it’ll help give the place some flavor. What do you think?’

  ‘Is that Ruk’s hand?’

  He quickly slid the paneling closed again. ‘Aaaaanyway, moving on to the “pièce de résistance”—’ He pulled back a red curtain to his right, where a miniature version of his own desk sat pushed against the corner, another placard resting atop it.

  I’ll give you three guesses as to what it said.

  ‘But—Dex,’ I moaned, staring at the placard, my poorly spelt name (even though it was only three letters). ‘I can’t be your sidekick. We’ve been over this. I have to go home. Aunt Loretta’s probably worried sick about me. Then there’s all that school work I have to catch up on, too.’

  Dex bobbed his head, clearly not listening. ‘Uh-huh, uh-huh. Oh, and that reminds me; open that drawer there, will you? No not, that one. The one with a knob shaped like a—yeah, that’s it.’

  After pausing a moment to shoot him a wary glance, I slowly reached forward and pulled open the drawer.

  Lying inside, taking up a good half of the drawer, was a small, somewhat-cylindrical object; what I initially mistook to be my old friend the Subatomic Discombobulator, until my eyes settled upon the small mesh grill in its side, all the knobbly, uh, “ridges” running along its length (ribbed, for her pleasure!).

  It looked, in all honesty, like a microphone.

  ‘What’s this?’

  I plucked it from the drawer and turned it around. It was heavy.

  ‘That there’s a Translocator, Bif. Let’s a person instantly teleport from any one space in the universe to the other. Works by dismantling a person or object’s atoms at one end, before reassembling them again at their desired location out of whatever atoms happen to be nearby. Yeah, it’s pretty Star Trek.’

  ‘And this is… mine?’ I was almost afraid to ask.