World Killer: A Sci-Fi Action Adventure Novel

by Barry J. Hutchison

  From the corner of his eye, he saw Riley's jumper land on the floor and tried to ignore it. He thought about keeping his T-Shirt on, but it was so shredded now it was practically non-existent. It almost fell apart as he pulled it over his head.

  "Oh!" Riley yelped. Instinctively, Daryl started to turn. "Don't look!" she cried, and Daryl whipped his head back to the front.

  "Sorry! I didn't see anything!" he said. "What's the matter?"

  There was an odd rubbery squelching sound from where Riley was standing.

  "It's the costume. It feels weird."

  "I haven't got mine on yet."

  "So I see."

  Daryl froze. "What? Are you looking at me?"

  "You said to turn around when we were ready," Riley said.

  A glance back over his shoulder confirmedwhat he feared. Riley stood, fully dressed, watching him, still wearing her woolly hat.

  "I meant when we were both ready," he cried, feeling his cheeks sting red. "Stop looking at me! Turn around!"

  "Wow, OK, don't freak out. It's not like you're naked," Riley said, turning her back. "By the way," she asked, "were those Batman boxers?"

  "Shut up," Daryl told her.

  "Holy Batpants!"

  "Not listening."

  Daryl looked down at the outfit in his hands. It was a single piece with feet attached and an opening down the back to allow the wearer to wriggle into it. The legs stretched to fit as he stepped inside and pulled it up to his waist.

  He maneuvered first one arm then the other into the sleeves, and the rubber-like material snapped up over his shoulders.

  "Done?" Riley asked.

  "I can't… How does it fasten?" Daryl asked, struggling to reach around to his back.

  "Here, let me," said Riley, appearing right behind him. He opened his mouth to argue, then decided not to bother.

  "Is there a zip or something?"

  "No," said Riley. She tugged the edges of the material together. "Looks like it just sort of squishes shut."

  "What, like Velcro?"

  "Like magic Velcro!" Riley replied. "That is so cool. Now do me."

  Daryl looked back over his shoulder. "Um… what?"

  "Fasten me up," Riley said. She turned away from him, revealing a v-shaped patch of bare skin.

  "Oh. Right. Course. Yeah."

  Daryl felt his mouth dry out. It wasn't that he was particularly attracted to Riley, but this was the first time he'd ever seen a girl's naked back in real life. Although, admittedly, he was still in two minds about whether this was real life or not.

  His fingers fumbled as he took hold of the edges of the material. "So I just… what?"

  "Push the two bits together," Riley explained. "Then watch."

  Daryl did as he was told. As the edges of the material met they seemed to entwine, as if each side were giving the other a hug. In a moment, it was impossible to see where the join had been.

  "How cool is that?" Riley grinned. She wiggled her shoulders, then turned to face Daryl. "How do I look?"

  Daryl looked her up and down. "Like you're wearing a onesie made of meat."

  Riley shrugged. "Wouldn't be the first time." She caught Daryl's look. "No really, it would be the first time. I've never worn nightwear made of animal flesh. I have no idea why I said that."

  With a soft hiss the door to the room slid open. Hath looked at them both in turn.

  "Good. We are about to arrive."

  "Arrive where?" Daryl asked.

  "Nevada."

  Daryl blinked. "Nevada? What, as in the United States, Nevada?"

  Hath nodded.

  "But… we were in London."

  "And now we are in Nevada," Hath said. "Or we will be…"

  The ship slowed sharply, forcing Daryl and Riley to grab the wall for support.

  "…now."

  Daryl shook his head. "No way. We can't be."

  "Would you like to see for yourself?" asked Hath, gesturing toward the floor.

  "No!" yelped Daryl. "No, it's fine. I believe you. We're in Nevada."

  He glanced from Hath to Riley and back again. "Why are we in Nevada?"

  Hath turned and marched back into the main section of the ship. "It is where the PPA are holding Ash Stone."

  Daryl hurried to keep up with the alien's long strides. "And this PPA, what do they want to do? Stop him making any more albums?"

  "They want to dissect him."

  "Well that would be one way to go about it," said Riley.

  Hath twitched, unable to hide his irritation. "The PPA is—"

  "Planetary Protection Alliance," Daryl announced. He frowned. "I… how do I know that?"

  "That is not important," said Hath. "But you are correct. The PPA was formed to protect your world from extraterrestrial threats. Their true intentions are arguably less noble, however. In Ash Stone we see a musician, they see a weapon."

  "He's not a musician," Daryl argued. "I mean… does he play any instruments? No."

  "Enough!" Hath barked, his nostrils flaring, his fists clenched. "This is no time for pettiness. Your opinion of Ash Stone is of no consequence. All that matters is that you get in and get him out."

  Daryl gulped. Hath loomed over him like a giant, glaring down. "Get in where?" Daryl asked, failing to hide the shake in his voice.

  "Visuals," commanded Hath.

  "Not again," Daryl groaned as the ship's surface swam then faded completely.

  "Look down."

  "Do I have to?"

  Hath pointed slowly to the floor. Daryl sighed, then let his eyes follow the alien's finger. Beneath their feet was a whole lot of empty space. A shock jolted the length of Daryl’s spine, like his brain was demanding to know what the Hell he thought he was playing at.

  Fighting back the urge to curl up and start crying in the corner, Daryl focused on the ground several miles below him, at what looked to be some sort of small village. Twelve buildings were dotted around haphazardly, with a network of roads running between them.

  "What am I looking at?" Daryl asked.

  "Tomoe Point Military Base," said Hath. "The PPA's main base of operations."

  Daryl's every instinct screamed at him to for God's sake stop looking down and he snapped his gaze up from the buildings below. "It doesn't look like a military base."

  "It isn't supposed to. Everything important is below the surface."

  "And… what? We're all just going to head down there and break in?"

  Hath shook his head. "No."

  "Right," said Daryl, relaxing slightly. "Well, thank God for that."

  "You two are. I will remain here."

  "You can't be serious!"

  Riley nibbled her fingernails. "I dunno. He looks pretty serious."

  "Why aren't you coming?" Daryl demanded.

  Hath gestured at himself. "Something tells me I might be noticed."

  "Oh what, and we won't?" said Daryl, tugging on his outfit. "We look like we've been turned inside out."

  Hath prodded them both firmly on the shoulder. "PPA enforcement operative," he said.

  Daryl and Riley both jumped as the suits shifted across their skin. The red material darkened and altered its shape and texture. It rustled and ruffled around, until they were both dressed in the black military outfits of the men who had attacked Daryl at his house.

  "That is so cool. I am officially never taking this off," Riley gushed. She was still wearing her knitted bobble hat, the pompom wobbling excitedly on top. "Like, never. Like, not even to go to the toilet."

  Daryl twisted, trying to study himself all over. "That's… How did it do that?"

  "As I said, organic biopolymer," Hath said.

  Daryl's eyes widened. "It's alive?"

  "In a way," Hath nodded.

  "So the suits are alive, Yufo's alive…" began Riley.

  "Yufo isn't alive," Hath said. He grimaced. "And also isn't called Yufo."

  "We'll still be noticed. I mean, we're a couple of teenagers walking around a military base.
"

  "There are many teenagers working with the PPA," Hath said. "Their biology makes them the ideal candidates."

  "Candidates for what?" Daryl asked.

  "Later," Hath said. He stepped back and raised his voice. "Prepare for matter transport."

  "Preparing for matter transport," echoed Yufo. "Teleportation sequence initiated. Beam-down commencing in seven, six..."

  "What?" spluttered Daryl. "You can't just drop us in there. Isn't there a plan?"

  "Five."

  Hath nodded. "Get in. Get Ash Stone. Get out."

  "What?! That's it?"

  "Four."

  "The suits will mimic the biometric signatures of existing personnel. They will get you through security."

  "Three."

  "But the disguise won't fool the humans up close. Try to avoid being seen. Also, if possible don't get shot."

  "Shot?!"

  "Two."

  "But they're bulletproof, right?" Daryl said. "You said the suits were bulletproof?"

  "They are," said Hath. "Largely."

  "One."

  "Largely?" Daryl spluttered. "What do you mean, 'largely'?"

  But before he could hear the answer, a cocoon of light enveloped him. He felt a warm glow spread out from his stomach, and every one of his atoms scattered like dust on the wind.

  Nine

  Daryl was dimly aware of a floating sensation, then the floor beneath him became solid again. He and Riley were no longer on the ship, that much was obvious.

  The room they were in was a narrow rectangle, with a featureless metal door at one end. A fluorescent strip-light on the high ceiling cast a harsh glow across the whitewashed walls and scuffed vinyl floor.

  There was a low bench attached to the wall with a metal bucket tucked underneath it. Other than that, the room was stark and bare, and Daryl's gut tightened as he realized where they were.

  "A cell," he said. "This is… he's stuck us in a prison cell."

  Riley looked around. "You think?"

  "Of course I think! Look at it," Daryl yelped. "He's locked us up."

  "Maybe," said Riley with a shrug. She approached the door and placed her thumb on a small circle of shiny black glass positioned right beside it. "But at least he gave us the key."

  There was a clunk from the lock mechanism and the circle of glass lit up in friendly green. The door opened inwards without a sound, revealing an identical door directly across the corridor.

  Riley peeped her head out into the corridor, looked both ways quickly, then ducked back in. The whole process took less than a second.

  "Well, that wouldn't have looked strange at all," Daryl muttered.

  "Coast's clear, I think," Riley said.

  "You think?"

  "Yeah. I went too fast to actually see anything," she admitted. "I'll have another look."

  She had another look.

  "Yeah, no one’s there."

  Riley stepped out into the corridor. Daryl paused at the door while he checked for himself, then followed her out when he was sure it was safe.

  The corridor itself was long and wide, with six identical metal doors spaced out along each of the two longer walls, a whole lot of white-painted brickwork, and not a lot else to report. There was a single clipboard hanging from a hook across the other side of the corridor with a bundle of paper clipped on. Daryl's eyes flicked over it as he looked around.

  "What now? Where are we?" Daryl asked.

  "Detention level," said Riley, explaining what she knew of the plan. "Hath beamed us into an empty cell. Ash will be in one of the others, but he didn't know which one."

  At the far end of the corridor stood another door. This one was wider than the others and even more heavily armored. A camera was mounted on the wall above it. Even from that distance, Daryl could hear its motors whirr as it rotated to look in their direction.

  "Act natural," Daryl whispered, motioning with his eyes toward the camera.

  "Natural, right," Riley said. She straightened up awkwardly. She leaned against the wall with one hand, then immediately lowered it again and about-turned so she was facing the opposite way.

  "In what world is that acting natural?" Daryl hissed.

  "I've forgotten how," Riley whispered. "It's the pressure. I'm not good with pressure."

  She folded her arms then unfolded them again. She tapped her foot then shuffled slightly sideways. Daryl heard the faint purring of the camera's lens mechanism as it zoomed in for a closer look.

  "Just stop. Don't do anything," Daryl said, his voice urgent and clipped. "They're watching. They're watching and… oh my God, you're still wearing that hat."

  Riley raised her eyes, as if she could somehow see the top of her own head. "It's my favorite hat," she said.

  "We're dead," Daryl muttered. "We're so dead."

  A sudden buzz from along the corridor made them both jump. The door swung open, revealing a figure in a PPA outfit not unlike their own. The only difference being, this one wore a black baseball cap low on their head, and bore the stripes of a corporal on each shoulder.

  "You two," snapped the officer, and Daryl was surprised that the voice was female. It was stern and impatient, but sounded not much older than him or Riley. "Come here."

  Daryl and Riley shot each other an anxious glance. More than anything, Daryl wanted to run, but the only exit was directly behind the PPA agent, and he guessed she wasn't about to step aside.

  There was nothing else for it. Keeping in step, Daryl and Riley made their way along the corridor in the direction of the corporal.

  As they got closer, they could see more of the girl beneath the peak of her cap. She was seventeen or eighteen, Daryl reckoned—maybe nineteen, at a push.

  Her hair was either short, or tucked out of sight beneath the hat. The cap's peak cast shadows across her face, hiding her eyes, and her mouth was set in a grimace. She stood like a man, feet apart, chest forward and fists clenched by her sides. In the Top Trumps 'Intimidation' rankings, she was comfortably a seven-point-five.

  "Who are you?" she demanded, fixing Daryl with a glare that immediately bumped her up to an eight. "What are you doing here?"

  "Uh… cleaning," Daryl replied.

  The girl's dark eyes narrowed. "Cleaning?"

  Daryl felt something like an itch deep inside his brain. "Hannigan and Padley were supposed to be on duty, but they got called away and we got assigned," he said, the words coming out all by themselves. "Cleaning isn't scheduled until eight, but we thought we'd make a start now."

  The corporal continued to stare. Daryl felt the need to keep talking, but he bit the inside of his lip, stopping himself. If he kept talking he'd start babbling, and babbling would only give the game away.

  A crackle of static burst from the girl's hip. Riley let out a little yelp of surprise and the corporal's gaze bore down on her.

  "Corporal Carter, report. Over."

  The girl unclipped a walkie-talkie from her belt and held it to her mouth. Her eyes remained fixed on Riley, who shuffled uncomfortably from foot to foot.

  "Carter. What's up? Over."

  "Briefing room," said the voice on the other end of the line, in a tone that suggested it wasn't a request. "There's something you need to see. Now."

  An annoyed look flashed across the corporal's face and then was gone. She clipped the radio back onto her belt. "Don't go anywhere. I'll be back," she said. She nodded in the direction of one of the doors. "And stay away from Stone until we know what he's capable of."

  "Will do," said Daryl.

  Carter stared at them both in turn, slowly and deliberately. "Nice hat," she said at last, then she turned and left. A moment later, the door swung closed behind her and Riley and Daryl both sagged with relief.

  "Where did that come from?" Riley asked. "That stuff about Hannigan and… and…"

  "Padley."

  "Who are Hannigan and Padley?"

  Daryl shrugged. "No idea. They just… I don't know. They just popped into my head.
Along with the cleaning schedule. I think I just sort of glanced at it and remembered it."

  It was Riley's turn to stare. She scanned Daryl's face as if the answer might be written there somewhere. "You're one weird dude," she decided. "And I told you it was a nice hat."

  "It's a ridiculous hat," Daryl said, making for the door that Carter had gestured toward. "Now come on, I think he's in here."

  There was another fingerprint scanner beside this door. Daryl pressed his thumb against it. It went from black to a moody orange, and the door stayed closed.

  "Well come on, then," he muttered. He pressed his thumb against it a second time. The door let out an angry-sounding tone and the scanner turned red, then black.

  "It's not working," Riley said.

  "I can see that," Daryl said. He tapped his other thumb against the scanner. The sensor pulsed orange once again. He tried an index finger this time, but the same angry tone and the same flash of red soon followed.

  "Damn," he grumbled. He stole a glance at the camera back at the main door. It was still fixed on them, still watching.

  "Stand aside," Riley announced. "Let a master show you how it's done."

  "A master of what?"

  "Of… putting thumbs on stuff," Riley said. "Duh!"

  She put her thumb on the panel, then tutted as it turned orange.

  "Not working for me, either," she said. "You must've broken it."

  "How did I break it?" Daryl asked. He pressed his thumb against the sensor. "All I did was—"

  With a clunk from the door, the sensor turned green. Daryl looked at his thumb, then at Riley's. "Needs two people," he realized. "Like a double lock."

  "Guess they want to make sure he stays locked up," Riley said.

  "I'm liking them more and more by the minute," said Daryl, then he pushed open the door and stepped through into the shadowy confines of the cell.

  Ten

  There was someone standing at the far end of the cell. Actually, 'standing' wasn't right—he was affixed to the wall by a series of buckles. His hands were pressed against the side of his head and held in place by a pair of complicated-looking handcuffs that fastened around his neck as well as both wrists.