The Token, Kevin Bird [dark books to read TXT] 📗

the need to look out for his boys.
Suddenly a black shape came flying over their heads and landed with a loud thump on the dirt behind them. As one the men turned around and saw, up close for the first time, one of the creatures. It was on its side and one of its hind legs was bent in a different direction from the other three, even Gamik, who had not seen one before, knew it had been injured.
“Get it!” he shouted at the others around him who seemed transfixed by the horror of the thing in front of them. They had found it hard to understand that Jacob’s description of these animals could have been correct, how could they not have mouths? And how could they jump so easily even when carrying meat in their front legs, or where they arms?
All five men ran at the thing on the floor that was even now trying to rise. Clearly it’s damaged leg refused to allow any control and it stayed on the ground thrashing madly. It never got another chance to rise as all five pitchforks found their mark and pierced the thick, tough hide sinking deep. The same liquid Jacob had described gushed from the writhing body and within only a couple of seconds the body stilled.
With a sigh of relief Dale turned, pitchfork still in hand, in time to see more black shapes appearing over the confusion in front of him. He only had time to raise his weapon, and to shout, “Watch out!”

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Without thought or hesitation we responded to our comrade’s silent cry of pain. Backing away from the stomping hooves around us, three of us found enough space to spring over the backs of those in our way. The rest of us joined in the rending of the killed animal so we could begin taking it back to our homes. Our powerful rear legs took us cleanly over the animals and into the midst of our enemy. One of us landed directly on one of the two-legs whose back was to us and did not even see what was happening to him. A picture of a proboscis shooting down and breaking through a pathetically weak frame, then tearing the life out came to all of us as it happened. What exhilaration! We could hear above the occasional shrieks of the animals behind us, the shouts of these small creatures that were once again, as in the past, causing us so much trouble.
No sooner did the image of our initial success flash away than another came in behind it, one of pain again. This was too much! Another one of us injured. No, killed! Looking backwards we could see our brethren leaping over the fence with the food and the last two of us chose to join them since there was nothing more we could do to save those who had fallen. We headed back to what we hoped would be safety, but this night had reminded us too much of our past when we had been nearly exterminated. Would the two-legs succeed this time?
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As Dale lifted his pitchfork a black shape, increasing in fearful detail, descended upon him. The force of the contact knocked Dale to the ground and he felt the wind knocked out of him and a pain in his chest. His head was swimming and he couldn’t concentrate or focus but he did feel a warm wetness spreading over his chest. “I’m dying!” he thought with horror before the world went dark and he felt no more.
“Look out Adam! Behind you!” Gamik was shouting as he turned to find out what Dale had been screaming for. He had immediately seen Dale go down underneath a large black mass and before he’d been able to go to his aid another had been flying towards his son. Adam turned but too late as the thing landed on him knocking him to the ground under its weight. As Gamik ran to his son he saw something come shooting out of what, on anything else, would have been the things chest. Whatever it was, it shot through his son’s neck and came back out all in less than a second. On its way in it was a shiny black, but on its way out it was dripping in red clearly seen in the light from the fire. His son’s blood!
“No!” he screamed, lunging towards the evil creature.
Lane and Santor followed his lead and ran to stab at the thing, but as they got close another shape appeared seemingly out of nowhere knocking all three of them to the ground. As the men strove to get quickly to their feet the two black shapes in front of them turned and seemed to look over at the creature on top of Dale. A second later they bent their back legs, and with a power that shocked the watching men, launched themselves over the greens still blocking the men’s way. Faster than the awe-struck farmers could follow, the black things were out of sight, gone.
Gamik rushed to Adam’s side and knelt down. He took his son’s head in his hands and could immediately see that there was no life left in him. Screaming in anguish he pulled the limp body up to his, and ignoring the blood and gore on Adam’s chest, hugged him as if to squeeze the breath of life back in. Lane joined his father and began to sob in pain at their mutual loss. His younger brother was gone and he had not been able to do anything about it. Here he was, now a man, for he had turned seventeen years old only the week before, and he felt impotent. All he could do was stare down at his brother and then raise his head to the sky and scream.
Santor had rushed over and found that the thing that had appeared first had landed on Dale crushing him to the ground. It was still lying on top of his friend. He speared it with his pitchfork, but there was no reaction from it. It was already dead; he could now see a clear liquid pouring over Dale’s body. The creature’s blood.
By digging in his heels and putting his full strength into it, he was able to roll the thing off Dale, and as he did so he realized that it had killed itself by landing on the upraised pitchfork. Dale looked dead, but on closer examination Santor could hear ragged breaths coming from a mouth that had froth stained blood-red slowly dribbling from it. He was alive, for now at least.


Nine


Drake picked up the receiver by his captain’s chair and held it to his ear. “Yes, Marshall, my old friend what can I do for you?” His voice was friendly enough, but there was clearly an undercurrent of skepticism and wariness in his tone. He had not become the captain of a small fleet of pirate vessels and stayed alive as long as he had without keeping his eyes wide for hidden threats. His ship, the Harpy, had been the scourge of many systems for fifteen years. Over many of those years he’d had a special relationship with Marshall, based on personal gain and some mutual respect.
In fact, it had been Marshall that Drake had contacted after his accident several years earlier. The pirate ship had barely escaped a trap set by some enterprising bounty hunters. The Harpy had destroyed the would-be assassins but had taken a lot of damage in the process. Drake had been badly burned on one side of his body and needed quick, professional and most importantly, discrete medical attention. Pulling in a favor from Marshall hadn’t been too hard and he was back in his bridge seat in a couple of weeks. Now, his good looks seemed almost to be accentuated by the livid scars running down his left cheek, neck, and shoulder. Many women would look at him seeing only a rugged, handsome man who exuded power and self-assurance. It was, in many ways, these same qualities that had allowed him to fight and cajole his way to the top of his trade.
Marshall had contacted Captain Drake to help with his daughter’s problem and he knew he would have to do some very serious dealing to get what he needed. Drake was a man he could trust as long as something was in it for the pirate. There was little honor among these people, but as long as your back wasn’t turned to them and you brought them profit, they’d leave you alone. In the past, each man had helped the other, and so there was a certain amount of trust between them, if only on a business level.
Drake was receiving spare parts for his ships from Marshall’s factories and in return Marshall was given luxury items the pirate took from captured transports. He’d also benefited from Drake’s role as a kind of security force when Marshall was trying to circumvent the Suppliers and sell product for a greater profit elsewhere. He had not gone so far as to supply the enemy, that would have been business suicide, but he wasn’t above a little under the table sales. Drake knew this about him and that’s why the two men, very different in many ways, actually got on fairly well together.
“Can we talk?” Marshall asked knowing there was always the chance that the Suppliers were listening in on their conversation. They were always trying to get any information they could about the whereabouts of the infamous Captain Drake.
“You should know me better than that, Marshall! There isn’t a Supplier cracker out there that could break through my communication lines!” he said with a mixture of pride and bravado. It was almost as if he was taunting them but in fact he was always careful and had not made any mistakes yet. “The worst that could happen is that they trace the signal position, but I never stay in one place long enough for that to help them. Well?” as usual Drake was direct and wasted no time on small talk. Business as usual.
“I need your help killing a few alien bugs that are causing problems in the Teldar system where my daughter’s living now.”
“Interesting, tell me more.”
“Seems some native predators were left behind when the Suppliers declared the planet safe and imported the farmers. The farmers’ Tokens are due soon and they’re losing some of their animals to these things. They’re just a bunch of farmers who don’t know what to do and, to make things worse, they’re a bunch of non-techs!” the disgust was obvious in his voice and didn’t escape Drake’s ears. “Recently one of your ships delivered a vid-screen to Carlee, and it seems to me that for the right price you should be able to get past any of the authorities ships and help them out.”
“What would you have me do to help?” the pirate said cautiously.
“Since they don’t have weapons, or the guts to use them anyway, I was hoping you could get some of your men some shore leave to go on a little game hunting expedition. I’d make it worth your while; you know that. What do you think?” He was too much of a businessman to show in his voice how much he needed this man’s help, but Drake had worked with him often enough to realize how much Marshall loved his daughter. He knew he had the advantage in this negotiation and would make sure it went well for him and his men.
“I think we can work something out and, yes, you’re right, you will make it worth my while.” He all but rubbed his hands together