Captain Bartholomew Quasar: The Bounty Hunters from Arachnxx Three Read online

  Quasar raised an eyebrow in a display of bravado he in no way felt. "Is that so?"

  "You know you will die today." She guffawed, and it seemed a reaction fit more for a flea-bitten donkey than a royal princess of such incredible pulchritude. "Take them away, General Frayek!"

  At her broad, sweeping gesture that was both regal and indifferent, the leader of the Ciliac soldiers shoved Quasar and his crew back down the stairs by which they'd arrived and through the sublevels of the base until they reached their destination: the deepest, darkest dungeon level, horrifically medieval in form and function. The stone floor was slick with murky groundwater and slime, and the entire substructure reeked of feces—yet none of the cells they passed held any other prisoners.

  Quasar and Hank were shoved into a cell intended to hold one prisoner, and Gruber and the two remaining security officers were crammed into the one next door. Instead of a force field to contain them, the cell doors were made of an ancient iron-like material that clanged when the Ciliac general slammed them shut and locked them with an old-fashioned key. He glared at Quasar with all three of his eyes before turning to leave.

  "It is time for you to weigh your life in the balance, Captain. You all will await your death by whatever means the princess sees fit!" he called over his shoulder in a loud voice that echoed against the dungeon walls.

  "So much for your seduction strategy," Hank grunted, hugging himself with all four arms to keep his shaggy fur from touching the foul cell walls.

  "Plans change, my Carpethrian friend," Quasar said, pacing the width of the cell with one stride in each direction and strumming his chin in thought. "But don't you fret. We'll get out of here. I've found myself in tougher situations than this and lived to tell the tale to whomever would lend me an ear."

  "Think it's to be torture then, Captain?" Gruber's voice came faintly through the wall. Judging by his tone, it was likely his perspiration had reached maximum levels. "Or perhaps a firing squad with those laser guns of theirs? Or maybe a fight to the death, do you think?"

  "Steady, Chief." Quasar took a moment to chew on his knuckle.

  "She might force us to fight each other," Hank offered. "For her amusement."

  Quasar glanced at him. "She did have a rather semi-barbaric look to her, didn't she?"

  "No way I'll ever fight you, Captain!" Gruber hollered. The two officers with him echoed similar sentiments.

  "Your crew is loyal," the Carpethrian acknowledged.

  Quasar nodded. "But you're not one of them."

  "No, I'm not."

  Quasar sized him up. "Was I right?"

  "Captain?"

  "About your combat training. Hand-to-hand-to-hand-to-hand—"

  "All Carpethrians are trained in the art of self-defense from a very young age. There are those in our star system who would try to take advantage of us—and our technologies—if they did not know better."

  "Treat you like doormats, in other words." Quasar raised an eyebrow but didn't say walking carpets aloud. It would have been uncouth. "The Arachnoids?"

  Hank nodded. "They've wanted our fledgling near-lightspeed technology for years, but our Chancellor has managed to keep them at bay." He shrugged his upper shoulders. "Until now."

  "Yes." Now that their technology was aboard an Earth ship that had accidentally destroyed a Goobalob toll-collecting vessel. If the Arachnoids had their way, they would not only claim the bounty on Quasar's head but also seize control of his ship and its cold fusion reactor. "Well, we just won't allow that to happen. No matter what."

  "Assuming we survive the next hour."

  As if on cue, the Ciliac general and his gang of soldiers returned, aiming their laser pistols at the two cells as he unlocked each one. He gestured for Quasar and his team to exit quickly.

  "I hope you have had time to prepare yourselves, Earth Man. The arena awaits!"

  "Humph," Hank grunted.

  "A fight to the death it is," Gruber murmured, his uniform sopping wet.

  "Steady," said Captain Quasar.

  From the dank, dark dungeons, Quasar and what remained of his team were shoved along through a different system of tunnels until they emerged into the white-hot glare of a domed arena's artificial light. Before them stretched a level playing field of gravel at least 100 meters square. On all sides, thousands of cheering Ciliac fans rose from metal bleachers much like one would find at a turboball stadium on Earth.

  In the center of the arena stood Princess Sya alone, garbed in a shiny leather-like bodysuit as crimson as the one she'd been wearing earlier, but now without the superfluous cape. She wielded a spiked chain mace at her side with practiced ease, brandishing it as an ancient lion tamer would have a whip.

  "Come, Earth Man!" she called with a hearty cackle. "Meet your doom!"

  Episode 10: Hand-to-Hand-to-Hand-to-Hand Combat

  Hank shook his shaggy head. "Five against one doesn't seem fair," he grunted. "Even one of us at a time—"

  "She expects us to fight her?" Chief Gruber gaped in disbelief.

  "Disrobe!" shouted the Ciliac general as his soldiers moved to take their positions around the perimeter of the arena floor.

  Captain Quasar held up a hand to stay the proceedings. "I demand to know our punishment."

  "Is it not obvious, Earth Man?" Her Highness remained in the center of the gravel field, swinging that mace of hers in an impressive figure eight pattern. It was clear that she was familiar with its use. "You are to fight me. To the death!"

  Gesturing to his men, Quasar quickly formed a huddle to strategize. But alas, it was a poor choice of action. A laser beam struck both of the remaining security officers, and they fell dead with holes burned straight through their heads.

  "Are any other members of your team expendable?" Princess Sya now held a laser pistol in one hand, blowing softly on the muzzle, while she continued to twirl her mace nonchalantly with the other. "No? I thought as much." She wrinkled her upper lip in disdain and motioned for two of her soldiers to approach. "Take those carcasses away." Her full attention came to rest on Captain Quasar. "Now remove your clothes. Our audience awaits!" She opened her arms toward the crowd filling the arena, and they roared with fervent approval.

  Quasar clenched his jaw, arms folded tightly across his chest, doing his best to impersonate an immovable object—until the princess ordered a few of her soldiers to strip the Earth men down to their undergarments. Struggling just enough to make it clear they weren't going along with it willingly, Quasar and Gruber had their uniforms tugged off and tossed aside. Hank didn't have to be subjected to this senseless indignity, as he wore no uniform, and the Ciliac were not prepared to shave him bald.

  "Orders, sir?" Gruber's sleeveless grey undershirt and matching undershorts were dark with perspiration, and thick drops of sweat dribbled from the end of his nose, his eyebrows, and his armpits. It was incredible to think the man carried so much water.

  "Stay alive," Quasar said through his teeth, turning a dashing smile upon the princess.

  "What are you doing?" She scowled suddenly, wincing as the artificial light in the arena—brighter than a noonday sun—reflected from Quasar's brilliant white teeth.

  "Smiling."

  She guffawed at that, and again the noise seemed more equine than should have befitted her regal station. "I kill two of your men, and you are happy about it?"

  "Six." Quasar advanced, hands out to his sides, still able to understand the alien princess due to the translation software sewn into his undershorts. He followed the United World Space Command motto to the letter: Never Unprepared. "Don't forget the four you killed with that bomb at the Bromidian base."

  "Of course." Her gaze roved up and down his body, noting every muscular bulge with obvious appreciation. "You are quite a healthy specimen—for an Earth Man."

  "I like to think so." He kept an eye on the weapons she carried: one that could crush his skull if he stepped within range of its half-meter chain, and another that could burn a hole straight
through him from where she stood—forty meters away and closing as he continued forward. The gravel crunched beneath the bare soles of his feet and those of Gruber and Hank as they followed a few meters behind him.

  "Are all the men of Earth as brash as you?" She gave him a gruesome wink with her forehead eye.

  "No." He chuckled, forcing himself to appear completely at ease. He hoped the princess couldn't hear the sounds of his stomach convulsing. Flirting with this pulchritudinous three-eyed female was enough to send him into nauseated spasms, and the cognitive dissonance of beholding such a gorgeous monstrosity was nearly overwhelming. "I'm what you might call one-of-a-kind."

  "Humph," Hank commented.

  "Then it would be a shame if I were to crush that handsome head of yours—or burn a hole through that perfectly chiseled chest." She licked her lips with a lascivious tongue.

  "Yes it would." Quasar swallowed the bile that lurched up into his throat. "So how about we settle this matter without carnage—mine, or my crew's. Enough have died already: your fighter pilots, the Bromidians, my valiant security team. Let's put an end to this bloodshed right now, shall we?"

  She cupped her ear with the hand holding the pistol and shouted for the sake of her audience, "Did you hear that? Could it be? The Earth Man is afraid to fight me?"

  The crowds cheered riotously at this, pounding their feet and clapping their hands so that the entire arena sounded as if it were suddenly filled with thunder.

  "He wants to talk instead of fight." She guffawed yet again, this time stomping her left boot like it was a hoof. The similarity was uncanny. "My dear Earth Man, these wonderful people have not gathered here today to see us talk. They have come to watch you die!"

  Pivoting on her right foot, she stretched out her arm in a classic shooting stance and squeezed off three shots in quick succession. The captain had, of course, recognized her intentions, and he ducked into a forward roll across the gravel. The shots passed over his head with room to spare. Gruber was a little late, but he managed to jump back from the beams just in time, flailing both arms to keep his balance. Hank whipped to the side, but in doing so his fur stretched laterally, and the shaggy tips were singed black by the narrow laser beams.

  "Watch them dance!" the princess cheered, and her audience roared at the spectacle. She certainly knew how to put on a good show for them. "Let us see how limber you are!" She fired at their feet, and much like trained Earth monkeys of old, the two men in their underwear and the very hairy Carpethrian jumped to avoid losing their toes to nasty laser burns. In so doing, they couldn't help but appear to be hopping along in time to the strange, syncopated music that burst forth from massive speakers in the arena ceiling. "Dance, dance, dance!" she cried.

  Captain Quasar had never been so humiliated in all his life. Teeth clenched, he glanced quickly at Hank. "Time to show me what you're made of, Carpethrian."

  Hank's full attention remained on the beams punching into the gravel at his feet and charring it black. "Captain?"

  "Hand-to-hand-to-hand-to-hand combat!"

  Hank grunted. "I can't get close enough to her, even if I wanted to."

  Quasar sidestepped one beam and leapt over another. "Leave that to me." Then, as an afterthought: "How much do you weigh?"

  "Why?"

  "I'm going to throw you."

  Episode 11: Some Explaining to Do

  Hank stood still, despite the too-close-for-comfort laser blasts scorching the hair on his furry toes. "You will do no such thing."

  "Here—give me your arms." Quasar reached for the Carpethrian's superior pair, as long as any orangutan's from an Earth holo-zoo. "You distract her while Gruber and I close in for the tackle."

  "No." Hank pulled his arms away.

  "It's our only chance!" Quasar grabbed at him, seizing hold of the Carpethrian's upper left arm and holding tight, pivoting his weight against Hank and pulling him off-balance.

  Or so he thought.

  With the ease of a powerful wrestler, Hank reached with his free arms and grabbed hold of the captain, flipping him over his shoulder to the ground where he landed hard on his back and lost most of his air. An undignified wheeze escaped Quasar, and as much as he hated the fact, he sounded like an inflatable toy someone had inadvertently squashed underfoot.

  Princess Sya eyed the commotion with great interest. "I could save myself all this trouble and just have you fight your own crew, Captain. How delightful!"

  "I'm not one of his crew," Hank grunted, stepping back from Quasar as the captain gulped down a quick breath and staggered to his feet. "But that doesn't make me expendable."

  Her Highness bared her perfect teeth in a dangerous smile as she advanced on the Carpethrian. "Perhaps not. But you could live without a couple of your arms." She fired the laser pistol between his upper and lower shoulders, the beam slicing through the air mere millimeters away from his very hairy midsection. She raised her voice, "Which one shall it be? Right? Left? Upper? Lower?" The crowd went wild with anticipation.

  Captain Quasar took a giant leap, landing between her and his interim helmsman. "You should know we're here to kill you," he told her.

  "What are you doing?" Hank growled behind him.

  "Saving your furry neck," Quasar retorted through clenched teeth.

  "Of course you are here to kill me!" Princess Sya cackled, throwing back her head of gorgeous silky locks. "Why else would you be in my arena? To win your freedom, you must do so over my dead body." She winked with all three of her eyes, her gaze roving slowly across the captain's muscled frame as she approached him. "Or at least try."

  "Not what I was referring to," Quasar quickly interjected. "You see, we were commissioned by the Bromidians to assassinate you. That's why we're on the surface of your planet and not on our ship, where we belong."

  The crowds booed and started throwing their trash into the arena. Some appeared to have brought bags of the stuff from home just for this purpose. A quaint if smelly custom.

  The princess slowed to a halt. Tucking the spiked mace's handle into her belt and keeping the laser pistol trained on the captain, she eyed him with a steely gaze. "So, they have finally gone and done it. Hired bounty hunters to do their dirty work—since they have no stones to attempt it themselves."

  "Uh-we're not bounty hunters, Your Highness," Gruber spoke up.

  "Soldiers of fortune then. Though I must say, your uniforms are very sharp for a band of starfaring pirates." Of course a Ciliac princess would appreciate the burgundy and black hues of United World Space Command—it was closer to the Ciliac crimson than the Bromidian blue, at any rate.

  "Uh-we're not pirates either, ma'am," said Gruber.

  Quasar gave him a glance that said Shut up, Chief. I have everything under control here. Trust me. It was a very meaningful glance, and it took a whole two and a half seconds to perform.

  "Did they contract your services before or after you destroyed my fighters?" Her Highness raised the royal brow over her forehead eyeball.

  "How's that?" Glancing at Gruber had taken the captain's complete concentration, and now he found himself a bit lost in the conversation.

  "No matter. We shall simply add it to the list of charges against you. Intent to dethrone a Ciliac monarch—that is most definitely worthy of death by laser dismemberment." She pivoted once again into her firing stance.

  "Wait!" Quasar held up both hands. Surprisingly, she paused, eyeing him over the muzzle of her pistol. "It was never our desire to kill you—only to obtain the parts our ship requires so that we may be far away from your planet as soon as possible."

  She chewed on her lower lip for a moment, weighing the captain's words. "If what you say is true, then why destroy my fighters? Obviously, you have been in league with the Bromidians from the start!" She tightened her grip on the pistol.

  "Not so! I assure you, what happened to your fighters was due to an unfortunate misunderstanding. You see, my original weapons officer was slain in a recent attack by Arachnoid bounty hunt
ers—"

  "Arach-what?" She sneered, "It sounds like you are talking about giant spiders!" She guffawed, and the crowd erupted into uproarious laughter.

  Actually, he was, but Captain Quasar decided to keep that information to himself for the time being. "We lost our weapons officer before we could escape them, and my first officer has stood in the gap ever since, manning her own station as well as the ship's weapons array. During our first contact with your squad commander, I made the mistake of gesturing to cut communications like so—" Quasar reenacted the finger slicing across his throat. "—and she mistook that to mean I wanted to blow your fighters to bits. I have since had a serious talk with her, and such a mistake will not occur again, I assure you."

  Princess Sya nodded happily. "Thank you, Captain. You are correct. Such a mistake, as you say, will indeed never happen again. For as soon as I cut you and your friends to pieces, I will commandeer your ship and enslave your entire crew." Her expression hardened, colder than dry ice. "Then I will turn the power of your vessel against the Bromidians, and they will rue the day they ever sought the aid of pitiful Earth creatures such as you!"

  Episode 12: Bobbing and Weaving

  Captain Quasar lunged forward in a bold move—it was the only sensible thing left to do, after all—and placed the middle of his forehead just a centimeter away from the muzzle of her laser pistol, right about where his own third eye would have resided if he'd been born with the same freakish abnormality.

  "Go ahead. Kill an unarmed man. We're not here to harm you or your people. But of course that doesn't matter to a semi-barbarian such as yourself. Go on. Pull the trigger. But know that in so doing, you will lose the only ally able to bring an end to this conflict between you and the Bromidians."