the job?” Jolt turned toward him with a sly look in his dark eyes.
“No, I was resting.” He wanted to tell Jolt how the golden swirls had affected him, too, but he didn’t want to speak of such personal things in front of the other men, and he didn’t think Jolt would be the best listener, anyway.
“Now you’ve got some friends to keep you company.”
Weaver studied their pale faces. A man and a woman, although the woman looked more manly than any women he’d seen before. They were massive, with well-developed muscle tone, but their skin was soft and pasty like a baby’s. “Who are they?”
“These are the visitors who fell from the sky.” Jolt circled around them like a vulture around prey.
“But they look human.”
Jolt bent down, hovering over the prisoners’ faces. “My spies tell me these pale-faced newbies even speak English, which could only mean one thing.” He pointed to the ceiling of the cave. “That mother ship hovering over us like some raspwasp’s nest is a colony vessel. Those Lifers have traveled hundreds of years through deep space to reach what our ancestors did using their secret worm hole.”
Weaver tried to wrap his mind around the thought of several generations living on a ship. “Impossible! After all those years, they’re only just arriving now?”
Jolt felt the pulse of one of the men and nodded. “Yes, and generations on a ship have not been kind. Look at them. They’d die of sunburn and spidermite poison in one night out in the jungle. My spies tell me they even tripped on sticks and stones.”
Weaver shifted uncomfortably. This whole setup didn’t feel right. It was almost as if by stashing them here with their guards, Jolt was also keeping his eye on Weaver. He’d never glean the secret of the golden sludge and hoard it for himself with Snipe and Crusty breathing down his bow. “What do you want me to do with them? Why do they have to stay here?”
“Because I don’t want anyone questioning them besides me. They’re suffering from the effects of coma darts, but when they wake up, they’re gonna tell us how to use these.” Jolt walked over to a plastic container brought in by one of his men. He pressed a front panel, and air wheezed as the lid rose. He reached in and brought out a laser gun two sizes bigger than the one he coveted day and night. This one shone like the eye of a predator and buzzed with activity.
“Holy Refuge.” Weaver stared. “Have you tried it?”
“It’s locked.” Jolt’s grin turned into a scowl.
“Can’t you figure it out?”
Jolt gave him a mean glare. “It’s harder than you think. There’s some type of recognition code you have to type in to turn it on. Even the ones they were shooting don’t work for us.”
“Let me guess; you want me to figure it out as well?”
“You’re the descendant of the famous Decoder from Outpost Omega, aren’t you?”
Anger rose in Weaver’s chest. Being compared to his ancestors was worse than being compared to Striver. He always came out lacking. But if he wanted to live, he had to play along. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Good.” Jolt smirked like someone with all his game pieces in place, ready to launch an attack. “Crusty and Snipe will stay here to guard. Send one of them if any of these mooncalves wakes up.”
Weaver nodded, only half listening. If he could figure out the code and get those weapons, he wouldn’t need the golden sludge. He’d already spent too long in its presence and the effects were playing with his mind. “Sure, Jolt.”
“And one more thing—don’t be getting any ideas of your own. Crusty and Snipe would slice you up like a roasted boar.”
Snipe raised his hooded lips and Crusty nodded his head.
“Where are you going?” Weaver asked as Jolt turned his back on him.
He twisted around and grinned, teeth glowing in the golden light. His scar seemed to writhe with life. “I’m thinking up a way to shoot that mother boar of a ship out
“No, I was resting.” He wanted to tell Jolt how the golden swirls had affected him, too, but he didn’t want to speak of such personal things in front of the other men, and he didn’t think Jolt would be the best listener, anyway.
“Now you’ve got some friends to keep you company.”
Weaver studied their pale faces. A man and a woman, although the woman looked more manly than any women he’d seen before. They were massive, with well-developed muscle tone, but their skin was soft and pasty like a baby’s. “Who are they?”
“These are the visitors who fell from the sky.” Jolt circled around them like a vulture around prey.
“But they look human.”
Jolt bent down, hovering over the prisoners’ faces. “My spies tell me these pale-faced newbies even speak English, which could only mean one thing.” He pointed to the ceiling of the cave. “That mother ship hovering over us like some raspwasp’s nest is a colony vessel. Those Lifers have traveled hundreds of years through deep space to reach what our ancestors did using their secret worm hole.”
Weaver tried to wrap his mind around the thought of several generations living on a ship. “Impossible! After all those years, they’re only just arriving now?”
Jolt felt the pulse of one of the men and nodded. “Yes, and generations on a ship have not been kind. Look at them. They’d die of sunburn and spidermite poison in one night out in the jungle. My spies tell me they even tripped on sticks and stones.”
Weaver shifted uncomfortably. This whole setup didn’t feel right. It was almost as if by stashing them here with their guards, Jolt was also keeping his eye on Weaver. He’d never glean the secret of the golden sludge and hoard it for himself with Snipe and Crusty breathing down his bow. “What do you want me to do with them? Why do they have to stay here?”
“Because I don’t want anyone questioning them besides me. They’re suffering from the effects of coma darts, but when they wake up, they’re gonna tell us how to use these.” Jolt walked over to a plastic container brought in by one of his men. He pressed a front panel, and air wheezed as the lid rose. He reached in and brought out a laser gun two sizes bigger than the one he coveted day and night. This one shone like the eye of a predator and buzzed with activity.
“Holy Refuge.” Weaver stared. “Have you tried it?”
“It’s locked.” Jolt’s grin turned into a scowl.
“Can’t you figure it out?”
Jolt gave him a mean glare. “It’s harder than you think. There’s some type of recognition code you have to type in to turn it on. Even the ones they were shooting don’t work for us.”
“Let me guess; you want me to figure it out as well?”
“You’re the descendant of the famous Decoder from Outpost Omega, aren’t you?”
Anger rose in Weaver’s chest. Being compared to his ancestors was worse than being compared to Striver. He always came out lacking. But if he wanted to live, he had to play along. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Good.” Jolt smirked like someone with all his game pieces in place, ready to launch an attack. “Crusty and Snipe will stay here to guard. Send one of them if any of these mooncalves wakes up.”
Weaver nodded, only half listening. If he could figure out the code and get those weapons, he wouldn’t need the golden sludge. He’d already spent too long in its presence and the effects were playing with his mind. “Sure, Jolt.”
“And one more thing—don’t be getting any ideas of your own. Crusty and Snipe would slice you up like a roasted boar.”
Snipe raised his hooded lips and Crusty nodded his head.
“Where are you going?” Weaver asked as Jolt turned his back on him.
He twisted around and grinned, teeth glowing in the golden light. His scar seemed to writhe with life. “I’m thinking up a way to shoot that mother boar of a ship out
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