by M J Gauntlet
It was alleged that the Empire allowed the Assassins’ Guild to exist because it was said, they were often called upon to do jobs of which the government wanted no part. But Lahrs chose to believe the rumors that the Empress herself was terrified of them and had simply decided to just leave the Guild alone. The thought of being employed for someone that the Imperium was afraid of made him very, very, nervous. Kass was initially reticent to take the assignment when he had heard who was to be their employers. He said that he had never heard of a Cree killer ever needing assistance, but the pay offered was tremendous and had swayed Lahrs, who talked Kass into accepting the job. But now, he was beginning to have second thoughts, maybe Kass had a point after all. If the stories he had heard were true, then just a single Cree assassin could take out a room of fully armed men, let alone a drug addicted cripple and a young kid! So, what in hell were he and Kass doing here with two Cree killers. Yeah…the pay was damn good and both he and Kass could use the eunits, but why the fuck were they here in the first place? Lahrs wondered, in the back of his mind.
Lahrs made soft scratching sounds, rubbing the stubble on his chin as he covertly looked over the two cloaked figures. From the way they stood together, it appeared that the shorter quiet one might be some sort of trainee or apprentice. Maybe that was the reason that there were two of them, but even so, they both together should have been enough to get the job done. Lahrs worried his chin a bit more. Since he and his partner were offered triple the units, he decided to stop worrying and just to do their jobs without making too many inquiries. One did not question a Cree assassin and expect any answer save death.
The taller assassin suddenly paused in mid-step and cocked his head slightly to one side, as though listening to something. After a full minute, he then straightened his head and turned to face his henchmen.
“It appears that the boy will not be here in any time soon. He has been ordered to work late, and there is no telling how long it will be before he is finished. We have been instructed to continue with the man and wait for the boy to arrive later. Let us proceed,” said the Cree.
Turning to the younger cloaked figure, the taller one made a quick series of hand signals. With a slight nod of his head, the second assassin backed away and silently moved back into the tree line, within moments he had thoroughly disappeared.
Looking back at the two hired thugs, the Cree said, “Mr. Lahrs, I want you and Mr. Oaton to gain entrance through the front portal and subdue the man with a minimal of damage to his person. Remember, I want him both alive and conscious. If either of you deviate from this course of action and he is in anyway rendered unconscious or unable to communicate because of inflicted wounds, you shall both suffer greatly.” With matching shivers, both men gave curt nods, then silently and quickly moved towards the front door of the makeshift hut.
The building appeared to be typical of the dwellings put up by the residents of Last Town. The structure itself was the standard cheap, easy to construct, geodesic style, plasticine dome. Easy to construct and simple to maintain. It was a squat, single-story, hemispherical shaped, construction with a single tube-like funnel protruding out of the roof, which acted both as the chimney and vent. Wisps of grey smoke issued from its end and wafted up into the slight breeze, indicating it was currently in use and probably someone was indeed inside.
Unlike the usual residential dwelling of Last Town, this one was better maintained. It was solidly built, and the outer support piping showed no sign of rust. The structure was composed of the original panels that came with the kit, and was without the usual jumble of mixed building materials incorporated into its construction, that was found in neighboring homes. There was even a small cultivated area adjacent to the house that contained a variety of native flora including, a garden of edible plants and a dwarf java fruit tree. Attached to the left side of the structure, resting on two-meter tall metal stilt legs, was what looked like an auxiliary liquid fuel tank, which most likely supplied the energy for both cooking and heating.
Both Lahrs and Oaton had silently reached the house and stood poised to either side of the door. As they braced themselves for a synchronized rush, there was a faint crackling sound at their feet. Lahrs looked down, and for the first time noticed a meter-wide thin layer of dried Java bean pods had been spread around the perimeter of the house.
Ezekiel Grayson had just removed a sealed, frozen, dinner packet from the freezer unit and was walking towards the regenerator, when he heard the tinniest rustling sound behind him at the doorway. Without a moment of hesitation, he pivoted in mid step and flung the rock-hard package at the entrance just as, with a loud ‘BANG’, the door flew open and the two men burst through the entrance. The frozen missile truck Horace Lahrs on the right temple, eliciting a deep groan from the man as he slumped to the floor dazed. Before Kass could react to his partner’s difficulty, he found himself reflectively ducking as a heavy wooden chair came flying directly at his head. He was able to raise his arms just in time to avoid a crushed skull, but the impact knocked him back toward the smashed door dazed.
This all happened within a few seconds, but it was time enough for the ex-scout to ascertain the situation and realize that he was at a distinct numerical disadvantage in the confined space, and thus decided that discretion was the better part of valor. Whirling around, he gave a roundhouse kick to a section of the rear wall. Two triangular shaped panels instantly flew out and away, revealing a man-sized opening. Gathering himself for a headlong dive through his escape route, Ezekiel Grayson abruptly froze in mid step, then slowly stood up with his hands behind his head as he gradually walked backwards towards the center of the room. A needler was aimed at him, through the newly created opening, and was pointed directly at his head. The hand holding the weapon motioned him back into the dimly lit room. The gun was in the rock steady hands of a short figure in a blend cloak, that was carefully stepping through the ragged hole. Behind him, Grayson could hear the two fallen men scrambling to their feet as a fourth set of footsteps entered the room.
“Well done Ethop. You were able to position yourself in time,” the tall robed figure said, in a quiet voice. “Mr. Grayson responded much faster than what was anticipated by either Lahrs or Kass, but that was to be expected.”
Turning to the two henchmen, the assassin motioned one of them to retrieve the thrown chair and place it behind Grayson. Pulling out his own needler, he indicated that Grayson should sit down. Nodding at Kass, he motioned with the gun hand to have Grayson’s wrists fastened to the chair’s armrests. Only when the restraints were tightly secured did the Cree put his gun away into the folds of his garment. Approaching the now tethered ex-scout, the assassin leaned down to look at Grayson eye-to-eye. Grayson found himself mentally flinching, as he stared into two coal black pools of emptiness.
“Hello Mister Grayson, it is a pleasure to have finally met you after so long. You have been a hard man for us to track down, but if anything, the guild is persistent,” he said, with a thin smile. “I have a great many questions to ask you and I hope that you will be forthcoming with your replies. If you are not, I’m afraid that things will get to be quite unpleasant for you over the next few hours. So, without further delay, could you tell me….”
Two hours later, Grayson was still strapped to the chair but now he sported several bruises, a swollen left eye and what felt like a cracked rib or two. Both Kass and Lahrs were each breathing hard, after having taken turns pounding on his frame. The only reason that Grayson still had teeth, was the admonition the tall assassin gave them to make sure that he would be able to talk coherently.
“Enough!” the Cree assassin barked, as Lahrs was preparing to deliver another blow to Ezekiel’s midsection. Leaning forward, the assassin once again looked his battered prisoner in the eye. “I must admit, I am impressed by the amount of punishment you have been able to withstand Mr. Grayson. I am sure that both of my associates here would love to continue trying to make you acquiesce, but my time is precious to me an
d I’m afraid I must speed matters along somewhat.”
The Cree gave a hand signal to the shorter robed figure, who nodded once, and reached beneath is robing to bring forth a slim metal case. As he did so, the tall assassin produced a pair of thin silicon gloves and deftly put them on. Upon seeing this, both Lahrs and Kass eyed each other nervously, Kass took a step back, but Lahrs leaned forward to get a better view of what was in the case.
The Cree gave an inner smile, noting Lahrs’ reaction. It had not escaped him that all through the interrogation of Grayson, while Kass took a piggish delight in beating the man, Lahrs had gone about the task methodically and with seemingly little emotion. Such an attitude was appealing to the assassin. The guild was always on the lookout for new recruits, and while the man’s methods were crude in comparison to those practiced by the guild, they could in time, be refined. His assistant Ethop was such an apprentice. She was recruited from the streets of the planet Where-with-all and trained on the assassin world of Benign. After the ‘culling’, she was then assigned as his trainee. The Cree had learned early on that one could never tell where the next assassin would come from. What he was about to do next would be a litmus test for Lahrs. If Lahrs was able to witness this next part of the interrogation without baulking then, the Cree would consider not terminating the man along with his partner Kass.
Holding his gloved hands out, he waited as Ethop unsealed the case and withdrew one of the two clear glass cylinders it held. Placing the tube into the Cree’s hands, Ethop then stepped quickly back. With a sharp movement of his hand, the Cree motioned a curious Lahrs, who was now craning his body forward for a better view, to also step back.
The ten-centimeter long cylinder contained a smoky, viscous liquid in which a purplish black, many legged something lay quiescent. It seemed dormant, but as the heat from the Cree’s hands gradually penetrated the material of the container, the creature began to slowly writhe within the tube. Holding the cylinder in front of Grayson’s face, the Cree spoke in a low, almost soothing voice.
“This Mr. Grayson,” he said, waving the tube from side to side, “is known as an Aquiline Bloodworm. In point if fact, the name is a misnomer because as you can plainly see, it is not a ‘worm’ at all.” While he spoke, he began to slowly twist open the seal at the top of the ampule. As he did this, the creature began to thrash wildly, as though sensing its release.
“Despite the misnomer, it is quite an extraordinary creature. As the first part of its name suggests, it thrives on blood. Or rather, the iron found in the oxygen carrying hemoglobin, found in the blood of most carbon-based life forms.”
As he spoke, the Cree continued to unseal the tube while gently shaking it. This agitated the creature to the point where it was vigorously coiling and uncoiling upon itself. Lifting the partially open cylinder up to his face, the assassin smiled for the first time since Grayson had encountered him.
“This creature has a unique method that it employs to get the maximum amount of blood from its victim. Notice the two wire thin tentacles protruding from its upper thorax,” the Cree said lightly, as he pointed to the appendages, “they work their way beneath the skin of its prey and seek out nerve endings. Once they ‘latch on’ so to speak, they become almost impossible to remove, unless one knows the right pressure points. Once they have attached themselves to their victim, they induce the most incredible sensation of pain into the subject’s brain, causing the heart to beat faster thus increasing the flow of blood for the creature to ingest. I am told that the level of pain is excruciating. The agony is said to be so intense, that many who have been thus entwined, have cut off the limb upon which the Bloodworm has attached itself. Some have been known to have been driven quite insane.”
When he finished talking, the assassin quickly upended the tube and with a deft motion of his gloved hand, he tightly seized the fiercely wiggling thing just below its thorax. The pincer like appendages on either side of its head were snapping rapidly, while the two thin tentacles whipped about frantically as they sought a place on his wrist to latch on. Extremely supple, the animal rapidly coiled and uncoiled itself into a living knot. Once or twice, its dangling lower half would touch the gloved wrist of the assassin and seemingly sensing the warm flesh beneath, it would vigorously squirm in a vain attempt to fasten itself onto its captor.
Holding the writhing creature centimeters above Grayson’s forearm, the assassin again spoke in that unnerving calm voice. “Now I will ask you this one last time, provide me with the coordinates I seek. If you do so now, I will put my little pet away and you won’t be subjected to any further indignities. I will simply walk away, my contract fulfilled.”
“Cree, do you think I’m that stupid?” Grayson mumbled, through swollen lips. “I know I’m dead no matter what you say. What I find amusing, is that you have even made the attempt to deceive me”
The assassin pursed his lips and gave a curt node to his apprentice. The hooded figure produced a long thin knife and proceeded to rip the upper sleeve of Grayson’s tunic, exposing the man’s upper arm. With a deft motion, he cut a thin red line down the exposed arm and stepped back. At which point, the assassin stepped forward and lowered the writhing Bloodworm onto Grayson’s arm. Then the screaming began…
An hour later, the assassin stepped forward and knelt close to the low moaning Grayson. For over an hour, he had hammered the same questions at the tormented ex-scout, but the man would not yield and stubbornly refused to answer one of his questions. Too late, the Cree realized that the mental blocks placed on his subject by the Imperium must still be in place. The Cree was uncharacteristically pissed.
The assassin was becoming more and more dissatisfied with how this current assignment was progressing. It had begun benign enough; a simple information retrieval, with an unusually high fee and a time-based bonus which was guaranteed upon success. The guild had done the legwork of tracking down the man, and their employer had only wanted certain information and afterward the termination of the subject. The client only required that the death of the man and his son created no undue attention. Yet, from the moment he and his apprentice had signed on for the job, there were complications. Beginning with the delay in procuring the man’s son as leverage. It may have been just blind luck that had caused the delay in the young man’s work schedule, but the assassin did not like it. There was also the uneasiness he had initially felt, when his team first approached the hovel of a home. The Cree felt as though something was not quite right. Something was just a little bit…off.
Over the years, the assassin had learned to trust such feelings, for they had saved him many difficulties in the past. Even with intense training and conditioning, the Cree discipline required listening to one’s ‘intuition’ about a situation. Intuition was just as important to success as was mastering the considerable skills required to become an elite assassin. Now, that instinct was telling him that there was something out of place. It was this feeling that had led him to send his apprentice around the rear of the building. But before that, he thoroughly scanned the habitat both with his bionic enhanced senses and an array of extremely sensitive electronic devices. Neither had revealed any threats or hidden, but this only heightened his uneasiness rather than assuage it.
Then there was the disappointing situation with the hireling Lahrs. It initially appeared that the man might be an ideal candidate for Cree apprenticeship. The man had shown little emotion during the initial physical interrogation of the subject. A certain level of emotional detachment was a crucial part of Cree training. So, when the Bloodworm was applied to the ex-scout’s arm, the assassin had slyly watched the hireling from beneath his hood. While his partner Kass was visibly disturbed by the creatures feeding, Lahrs had leaned in closer and his eyes seemed to glaze over as he was slowly licked his lips. A sure sign of a sadist. The Cree emitted a small sigh of regret. The guild had no use for sadists. They habitually became too absorbed in the pain they were inflicting, and often lost control to the point where the targ
et was either, inadvertently killed or rendered useless for interrogation. Also, while they were able to inflict pain, far too many were unable to withstand it, thus making them a security risk to the entire guild.
The Cree was mildly disappointed at the revelation because the discovery of a viable candidate for admission into the guild carried with it a fair amount of prestige as well as a substantial eunit bonus. Unfortunately, it looked like he and his apprentice would have to eliminate both mercenaries after all. He decided to leave the task up to his apprentice. With a series of silent hand signals, he communicated this to Ethop and found himself somewhat curious as to how the young girl would handle it.
Pulling his mind back to the matters at hand, he looked down at the puffy eyed moaning figure, then checked his chronometer and gave a low grunt. Grayson’s skin had taken on a pale, almost ashy hue, as the creature continued to feed. Reaching forward, the Cree gently grasped two knoblike protuberances on its carapace, and pried the now engorged and satiated Bloodworm gently from the man’s forearm. Now saturated with blood, it had become quite docile.
“Quite impressive, Messer Grayson. Most remarkable in fact. Indeed, there are few men who could have withstood even a few minutes under such duress. Your tolerance to pain is quite impressive,” the Cree said, with a touch of admiration in his voice. “I’m afraid that I might have underestimated the training and conditioning the Imperium has given its scouts. After this episode, I do believe that I will have to inform the guild that it must consider a different approach when dealing with conditioned Imperium personnel. This is unfortunate as I am forced to use methods that are somewhat cruder and thus…” The Cree assassin was drawing a shining wicked looking, saw-toothed edged blade from beneath his cloak, when he paused, tilted his head slightly as if listening to a faint voice. “Ah, it appears that further assaults upon your person will most likely not be necessary,” the Cree said with a wry smile, as he slid the vicious looking stiletto back beneath his robe. Standing up, he looked at the now torpid creature he still held in one glove hand.