Six Scifi Stories

 
By

 

Robert T. Jeschonek

 

*****

More Science Fiction
by Robert T. Jeschonek

6 More Scifi Stories

6 Scifi Stories Book 3

Beware the Black Battlenaut

Give The Hippo What He Wants

Heaven Bent Part 1-12

Lenin of the Stars

Messiah 2.0

Off The Face Of The Earth

One Awake In All The World

Something Borrowed, Something Doomed

Star Sex

Teacher of the Century

The Shrooms of Benares

Universal Language
– a novel

*****

6 Scifi Stories

 

*****

"No, no, no," said Luther James Paraclete, snatching the knife from the alien's tentacle. "Like this."

Lunging forward, he plunged the blade up to the hilt into the soft bulb of the second alien's head. Milky pink fluid spurted out at once, then gushed as Luther sliced the knife across the bulb, tearing a long gash.

The victim creature made a noise like a cross between a sneeze and a shrill whistle. As Luther finished the cut, pink milk poured over his hairy forearm, running off the point of his elbow. The alien's head-bulb drained in an instant and collapsed like a deflated balloon.

The rest of the creature's body followed, slumping to the street. Blue and yellow fluids streamed out of the gash, flowing from lower regions of the corpse to mingle with the pool of pink milk.

"Now
that's
how you kill," said Luther, wiping the dripping blade on his black coveralls. The air was thick with the stink of rotten fish, and he breathed it in deeply. After five killings, Luther was starting to like the rank odor given off by dying Ectozoids.

"Tried," said the first alien, puffing out the word through a fluttering maw on its forehead. "Could not do." The alien's name was Boraf Zolagorg. Like all Ectozoids, it looked like a man-sized jellyfish with a lower body of translucent bulbs and tentacles.

And it was Luther's employer for the duration.

In a way, Luther was sorry that the 'Zoids looked the way they did. Killing a creature that looked like something that had washed up on the beach wasn't quite the same as murdering a red-blooded Earthling.

On the other hand, Luther felt a different kind of thrill knowing that he was the first Earthling serial killer to take a stab at an extraterrestrial species. He liked killing what no human had killed before.

Now if he could just get the 'Zoids to do some killing of their own. It was, after all, the reason Boraf was paying him.

"Here," said Luther, holding the knife by the blade and extending the hilt toward Boraf. "Take it. Let's find our next volunteer."

Boraf did not reach out a tentacle for the weapon. The alien's gelatinous head-bulb quivered in the light from the planet's double moons. "Want to," said Boraf. "But no can. Ectozoid no kill."

When Luther stepped up close to the creature, Boraf's bulb dimpled as if pushed in by the human's breath. "You don't have any choice," said Luther. "It's kill or be killed now, right?"

"Still no kill," puffed Boraf.

Luther scowled and shook his head. He was starting to think that the job he'd been hired to do was undoable.

In the three days he'd been on Ectos, Luther had killed five locals, which was history-making and good for his lifetime average, but he'd had zero success in developing the killer instinct in Boraf. Like all Ectozoids, Boraf seemed to lack the ability to kill.

It wasn't that the 'Zoids weren't powerful enough to kill, because they were. As fragile as they looked, the aliens were strong and quick. They were able to generate and discharge bioelectricity, too, though Luther had only ever seen them fire off little zaps of it.

It wasn't that the 'Zoids lacked the motivation to kill, either. They said they expected a hostile invasion in a little over a week and were desperate to prepare for it.

It was just that none of them had the killer instinct. On their happy little world, unlike Earth, all life
co-existed harmoniously. The 'Zoids and lesser species on Ectos shared a low-grade link which was, if not a hive intelligence, at least a limited collective awareness. Organisms ate other organisms for sustenance, but it was more the result of a mutual agreement than a predator-prey competition for survival.

The Ectozoids were simply not wired for killing. In fact, there had never been a murder on Ectos, not even one, until Luther had arrived.

Luther thought that was pretty cool. Not only was he the first Earthling to kill an alien, but he was the first being to commit a murder on the planet Ectos. Every time he thought about it, he got a little kick of adrenaline and couldn't help smiling.

It was a great confidence builder for an aging serial killer whose best years had seemed long gone a long time ago. Now if he could just get the creatures to kill, he knew he would feel like a new man. A new murderer.

"C'mon," said Luther, heading down the street, waving for Boraf to follow. The porous orange surface under his feet pulsed like all the streets and walkways in the living maze of the city. "Let's find you some easy pickings, my friend."

Boraf shuffled after him, its bulbs and tentacles rustling and slapping together as it moved. "Pickings?"

"We're not going home till you kill someone," said Luther. "Get that through your head-bag. This is your big debut, and I'm not letting you quit till you've got something to brag about to your jellyfish friends."

"Tried," puffed Boraf. "No can kill."

"Sure you can," said Luther, smiling as if he had no doubt that the alien would come through. "Once you get that first one under your belt, you'll be fine."

"Hope," said Boraf. "Hope much."

Luther patted the creature's head-bulb, then wiped the slime off his hand onto his coveralls. As unlikely as it seemed that the alien would overcome its nonviolent nature, Luther still believed that he could bring Boraf around. After all, Luther had had great results with worse wannabes in the past...though, granted, the wannabes had at least been human.

For the last decade or so, ever since his arthritis had gotten bad, Luther had made a living as a serial killer personal trainer. He had trained some of the biggest names of the new generation--Fabersham, Glottal Stop, Chuck Wagon, Father Scalp--and had managed to stay prominent in the serial killer community even though the arthritis had limited his actual body count. Plenty of the newbies had been incompetent at the start; even the great Spay Queen, believe it or not, had been squeamish around blood in the beginning. Once Luther had gotten done with them, however, not one of the newbies had averaged fewer than ten kills a year. Every one of his trainees had done him proud in the end.

Except, of course, for Lech Bomb, the one dark spot on Luther's sterling career. Even Bomb had his good points; no one could criticize his body count, certainly, for he had racked up a solid twenty-two kills in fourteen months. The problem was, Bomb's victims had all been serial killers, which hadn't exactly reflected positively on the man who'd trained him. By the time Sweet Annis and the Unholy Ghost had put down Lech Bomb for good, Luther's rep had been blown to hell. Luther had even been booted out of the Serial Killers Guild...and he was a charter member, yet.

Lech Bomb had pretty much killed Luther's career, but Luther still didn't consider him a complete failure. If anything, he'd been one of the greats, downright brilliant and deadly enough to track down and execute some of the most dangerous killers alive. Luther's confidence had taken a hit because he hadn't anticipated that Bomb would turn on his serial killing brethren...but Luther still believed that his stalled career could be revived.

Once he got the Ectozoids on the road to bloody mayhem, he could return to Earth and the Serial Killers Guild as a hero and a legend. And a wealthy son of a bitch, what with the fortune in precious metals and gems the aliens were paying him.

Excited and impatient at the thought of the rewards in store for him, Luther turned down another passageway...and stopped so suddenly that Boraf bumped into him from behind.

In the pulsing yellow tubeway, Luther saw a lone 'Zoid shuffling toward him from less than twenty yards away. There was no one else in sight, and there were no lights in any of the windows of the surrounding house-mounds.

"Time to lose your cherry," Luther whispered to Boraf. "It's now or never."

"Cherry?" puffed Boraf.

Stepping forward, Luther grabbed hold of one of Boraf's tentacles and pulled the 'Zoid along with him. The other alien kept shuffling toward them, apparently unconcerned.

"Hello, friend," said Luther with a cheery grin. "Wonderful night, isn't it?"

The approaching 'Zoid bobbled its head from side to side but made no reply. Luther wasn't surprised, as Boraf was one of the few locals who understood and spoke English.

The 'Zoid made a burbling sound through its forehead blowhole and kept coming. Pulling Boraf along by the tentacle, Luther moved to one side to let the unsuspecting creature pass.

Then, as the 'Zoid wobbled by, Luther swept a leg through the mass of tentacles supporting it. The alien made a noise like the yelp of a poodle and fell forward, its tentacles and fluid-filled bulbs slapping the street like a mop slapping a floor.

Boraf hung back until Luther yanked it forward by the tentacle. "It's showtime," he said, wrapping the tentacle around the hilt of the knife. "Time for baby's first step."

"No kill," said Boraf, its voice shrill. "Ectozoid no kill Ectozoid."

Boraf tried to unwind its tentacle from the knife hilt, but Luther clamped both hands down hard around it. Arthritis pain lanced his fingers and wrists, but he held on tight. "Brace yourself," he said. "You're about to make history."

Then, he wrenched the knife and tentacle forward, punching the point of the blade through the biggest bulb south of the 'Zoid victim's head. As the tip penetrated, both Boraf and the victim squealed like punctured balloons.

Luther had to struggle to keep the knife moving, as Boraf continued to pull back. Gritting his teeth, the Earthling pressed the weapon deeper into the victim 'Zoid's bulb, then inched the blade upward, opening a gash.

Inky fluid streaked with yellow milk rose from the wound and splashed out onto the street. Luther forced the knife to the top of the bulb, then withdrew it, keeping Boraf's tentacle cinched around the hilt.

"Ta-da!" said Luther. "You did it, Boraf! Your first kill! Way to go!"

Pain shot through his wrists and fingers again, and Luther had to relax his grip for an instant. He loosened his hold on the tentacle and knife just enough to flex his aching joints the tiniest bit.

It was all the opening Boraf needed to free itself. Suddenly yanking backward, the alien jolted itself out of Luther's grasp.

At first, Luther was so surprised and irritated that he didn't notice the tentacle wasn't the only thing that had slipped away from him. "Hey!" he snapped. "Get back here!"

Luther realized what was missing from his hand just a heartbeat before he saw the object flashing toward him, wrapped in Boraf's tentacle.

The knife. Luther had let go of the knife.

While he wasn't worried that Boraf would hurt him, Luther instinctively ducked away from his client. Boraf lunged forward, aiming for the wounded 'Zoid in the street.

Making a sound like a squealing automobile tire, Boraf raised the knife high and brought it down, stabbing the blade into the victim's head-bulb. As pink milk rushed from the puncture, Boraf hoisted the knife back out and up and thrust it down into the head-bulb again.

And again. And again.

And again.

Luther could not believe his eyes. Boraf stabbed with abandon, then slashed the head-bulb into shreds...and took the knife to the rest of the victim's body.

The dead 'Zoid's fluids sprayed Luther, splattered everywhere. Slimy bits of dead Ectozoid flew through the air, blobs of jelly sticking where they landed. Boraf was a whirlwind of motion, gouging and hacking, ripping the corpse to pieces with the blade.

Then, the 'Zoid stopped cutting. Boraf made a sound like someone hawking up phlegm, then shuddered violently and dropped the knife.

Without hesitation, Luther bolted over and grabbed the weapon. Jumping back, he put some distance between himself and Boraf.

"Killed Ectozoid," said Boraf, its voice high-pitched and reedy. "Boraf killed Ectozoid."

"Congratulations!" said Luther, smiling but staying out of Boraf's immediate reach. "I knew you could do it!"

"Feels good," said Boraf. Its eyes--ten black beads mounted on slender, pink stalks near the bottom of the head-bulb--remained focused on the corpse. "Want more kill."

Then, Boraf swung itself forward and dropped onto the dead 'Zoid. More colored fluids squeezed out of the corpse as Boraf's weight descended.

Gleefully, the first Ectozoid murderer in history rolled around on its victim's body. As Boraf rolled back and forth, its tentacles fluttered, its bulbs glowed with bioluminescence, and a sound like an off-key note from an
out-of-tune violin wheezed from its blowhole again and again.

Luther grinned but watched carefully. Once a predictable creature, Boraf had suddenly become capable of unexpected behavior.

Not that Luther was one to look a gift jellyfish in the blowhole, but he couldn't help wondering what had brought about the sudden change. Just like that, as if a switch had been flipped, Boraf had become a killer...and a pretty freaky one at that. The 'Zoid had gone from not being able to bear the very thought of taking a life to totally losing control and getting off on killing in a big way.

"Uh, Boraf?" said Luther, moving just a step closer to the Ectozoid wallowing in the mess of historic remains. "You've gotta tell me what turned you around, buddy. So I know for my next trainee."

Boraf was rubbing his head-bulb with dripping shreds of tissue. "Turned around?"

"You went from 'No kill, no kill' to 'Want more kill,'" said Luther. "What changed? Was it feeling the knife go in that first time with my hand guiding you?"