Britz-Well I did mean to have this up sooner but the mind of an artist is a fickle and forgetful one, good news is I'm way ahead for Moonbeam.
Chapter Fifth teen
Quick as an Andalite's tail the human 'Posse' had struck, killed the highly respected and feared Visser Three in charge of the invasion of Earth, stolen his Blade Ship and taken out two-thirds of the first wave invasion force, then... Disappeared
The Council was outraged, the masses of the Yeerk Empire cried for blood but the human attackers had not been seen since their brief appearance over Taxxis, where they blew up a Lancer-class ship on guard and disappeared once more into the endless possibilities of Z-space.
Efflit 1318 just felt, boned, yes boned in the human slang, his host agreed, the attack was terrible of course, thousands of his fellow Yeerk's gone in one unexpected swoop, never mind the fact that Visser 3's death and to a lesser extent the death of Sub-Visser 8 had led to his new position as Visser 27.
Actually he was becoming less happy about the promotion by the minute, for staters he wasn't sure this human body was an 'upgrade' from his Sstram host, and just when he'd gotten used to using the claws instead of hands. The host was tall, dark and handsome by human standards, strong enough but not compared to a Sstram, this host was voluntary, a relief compared to the strong-willed rebellious Sstram, but annoying, a whiny, egotistical human with the dress sense of a gay male prostitute (not knowing any better Efflit had kept the tight jeans and leather overcoat look.)
But the major.. pain in his ass, was this Moon Beam Posse (as the human's had reported, few still felt doubts that this wasn't the same legendary posse who had been 'killed' assassinating President-elect Governor William Clinton.) as the Council demanded he was in charge of finding this David Moonbeam and his posse responsible for the human system attack.
'Man this blows, fuckin', can we go back to Earth now?' whined the host, Efflit ignored him.
It was time to greet his guests.
Chapter Sixteen
The bridge of the Judicator, flagship of Visser 27, was filled with a tension so thick it was suffocating, like a dense gas that would choke them all, it was concentrated on the dangerous and vicious figures of the Bounty Hunters who had taken up the offer to track down Moonbeam and his posse.
Admiral Pietta, flanked by the ship's Captain Niloc 021, stared at them with hatred so open it glared from his Human host's face like an open wound, "Bounty Hunters," he growled at Niloc, "We don't need that kind of scum." Niloc nodded eagerly, his Hork Bajir head bobbing ridiculously.
Despite the air of tension and the looks they drew the Hunters looked relaxed, alert but not expecting trouble, it wasn't uncommon for Bounty Hunters to work for the Empire, tracking down particularly cunning lost hosts, gunning after troublesome key enemies, this was just another job to them and that's why Pietta felt such open hatred for them.
A fiercely patriotic Yeerk he would fight, kill, and die for the good of the Empire, that was his cause, the very centre of his being, Bounty Hunters had no such qualms about who they killed or why, just that they got paid a decent amount for doing their ruthless job.
First in the line was Raanglock, a moderately competent Roppiss Bounty Hunter who'd hit big with a lucky hit on a Sultan on some outer-rim piss-ant world, either way the hit had earned him plenty, terrified of death Raanglock had spent a good amount of money on an assassin droid that could have his personality and mind transferred into upon his death, which came mere months later.
Such custom droids were worth a pretty credit, but it was worth every bit as far as he was concerned, his body was now a robotic form not unlike an adult Roppiss, four arms, three legs and a long whip like tail, only now much deadlier, it was filled with hidden weapons. Raanglock watched the scene unfolding with a single scanning eye.
A Leeran, Mu-Chin, carried a spear gun loaded with thousands of venom-tipped darts, capable of killing a victim in seconds, as well as an Andalite Shredder as a side arm, a vicious and deadly hunter shunned by his own peaceful species. The Leeran gift of reading minds was not wasted on him; he was very accomplished at using it to anticipate his Bounty's attacks before they knew they were making them.
Mace Corleone, a Dracyer Alpha Male was next in line, Dracyer's were a race of creatures that looked like werewolves on steroids, the head of a wolf and a body like a gorilla with excellent posture covered in a short brown fur, their legs also resembled a wolf's hind legs, much stronger than a humans and capable of jumping many times the Dracyer's own height.
Mace's barrel chest and furry slabs of biceps were covered by a rather stylish grey silk suit, thrown off only by the long tentacles, that in shape bore a resemblance to a squids dominant ones, they were crossed across his chest like two furry belts of ammunition, looping over his waist and continuing to crawl up his back. Mace was on the run from the mafia family he used to belong to back on his home planet, his eyes, startlingly soft lavender when compared to the rest of him, scanned the room with great caution, there was a very sizable bounty on his own head.
Next a Na, Sna Quarren, he held a massive Drac-Pike, that would send currents of Dracon energy into a target like a devilish cattle prod, or could shoot a short range stream to disable an enemy, on his sides where two heavy Dracon Pistols. Na's were not a naturally threatening looking race (much like how many Yeerk's viewed humans) and such a heavily armed hard-ass Na was almost humorous, almost. In a situation Roach could have related to Sna was grim death in a smaller than orthodox package
Jupiter Dranz, a towering Fornsmith leaned against the wall, looking almost sleepy and clearly bored, all six of his eyes, large red, medium blue and small green watched the bridge with disinterest, the eyes, pair by pair went up his head that tapered to a point, he was a humanoid, almost human looking in fact except for the eyes and cone-head but a giant of a human.
Although only of average size for a Fornsmith Jupiter stood an easy 8-foot and from a human point-of-view looked unnaturally broad, like an American Football player wearing enormous shoulder pads, his right arm was covered in tattoos, small skulls of different species, at least forty, representing some of his bounty's, those who had put up the best fights. Other trophies, ears and teeth mostly hung from his hunting vest.
Shardik Topeka, Son of Mullas Fanswar, was the last in line. He was a Gaft, a fiercely traditional warrior species who bore a distinct resemblance to an Earth Grizzly Bear standing upright. His battle gear was ancient; as was the sword at his side but in such good keep their age was impossible to guess. Shardik's chest and belt held a large number of blades, some mostly decorative, throwing knives, others as big and vicious as small swords, a huge harpoon-style spear was at his back and a tek-bow was his side arm.
As Piette walked past the unsightly rabble a furred tentacle slipped over his shoulders, he stiffened as it dragged him closer to Mace, a expensive Dracyer cigar, at least a foot long jutted from his muzzle, ash dripped from the end of it onto the admiral's spit-shined boots.
"Maybe you should get to know me better," The hulking Dracyer reasoned, "I ain't such a bad guy." With that the tentacle slithered away and Mace blew smoke from his nostrils into Pietta's face, he grinned a huge toothy smile that exposed a vicious set of canines. The admiral made his get away as dignified yet quickly as he could, Mace growled a deep chuckle.
Visser 27 stalked into the room, coat fluttering behind him like a cape, "Gentlemen, there will be a substantial reward for whoever finds the human David Moonbeam and his 'Posse' I want them alive, but, accidents happen, they are worth decidedly less to both you and me dead."
He paced back and forth the line as if deep in thought, "At the very least I want a corpse for the Empire, heads on a silver platter." He turned to Jupiter and pointed menacingly, "No disintegrations."
The lumbering Fornsmith waved a hand dismissively, "Yeah yeah, whatever the fuck."
"Yo, Visser." Mace yelled, "You might have a different idea of substantial than the rest of us, how much?"
"Five hundred thousand Imperial Credits and sanctuary on a planet of your choice." Efflit replied.
"We were promised 10 million on the YNN!" Yelled the robotic Roppiss.
"Not by me." Was the Visser's cold reply, "That was mere propaganda, I have altered it."
There was a collection of grumbling, Jupiter had agreed to the hunt for the fame not the money, Mace sucked at his cigar, he needed the money, he'd never lost a bounty, but hadn't been in the game long enough for that to be an impressive statistic or a big earning point.
"Gentlemen, happy hunting." Said the Visser and he dismissed them.
Chapter Seventeen
The boy watched his father strike his mother again and again, at seven he did not understand that this was wrong, it was a normal thing for him, he played with his toy cars, driving them around the maroon stains in the carpet, dried blood his mother had been to laid up to clean in time.
"You cock-sucking whore! Don't think I don't know! Don't think I don't know about him!" His father screamed manically, he back-handed the screaming, bleeding woman, her back connected with a kitchen counter and she fell to the ground, weeping.
"Please Jerry, I don't, I don't know what you're talking about!" She cried.
"Bullshit!!" He yelled and kicked in her stomach, his hand, almost working of it's own accord found the butchers knife, lying on the kitchen table.
It's blade was greasy looking but still gleamed in the naked bulb of the kitchen light, the child felt a worry in him that was beyond his years and admittedly not great mental facilities (he was slow, even for a seven year-old, having no real schooling, a waste of his fathers drinking money.)
His father reached down and grabbed a clump of his mothers hair, she moaned but never saw the blade coming, he hacked across her throat, blood spewed from the cut, blood gurgled out of her mouth, her nose, a pool of thick red liquid flowed freely and grew till it covered the kitchen floor.
His father knelt by her, blood soaking through the knees of his pants, taking in what he had just done, finally he spat on her cheek, "Fuckin' two-timing slut." He said defiantly and he walked out of the room, passing his son as if he was part of the scenery.
The boy crawled over to her, she was dead but still warm, he cuddled against her, the coppery smell of her blood rode through his nostrils, "Mommy? Mommy?" He was not worried yet, it was not the first time his mother had not been able to get up after one of his parents arguments.
But he was slipping in her life-blood, he could smell the death coming off her, and now there was something wrong with her neck, a second mouth, toothless and gaping, an obscene smile drooling blood.
The child lifted his hand to his face and looked at the blood on it, he streaked it down one cheek, it was coming to him now, his mommy was never going to get up again.
He reached for the butcher's knife, left where his father had dropped it after performing his gruesome deed, somewhere; deep in his mind he knew what he had to do with it.
Yes, he knew what had to be done now.
But a tugging as the ship went from Z-space and into normal space above the casino-riddled moon of Menschu woke Moonbeam from his slumber, that and a hand on his thigh.
Siggs stood above him, he had fallen asleep in the Captains chair, "Thought you might like a little morning delight sugah." She smiled seductively.
Moonbeam wasn't in the mood, he pushed her away without a word spoken, she looked dismayed but didn't protest.
A dream, a sick dream, blood, and death, but not in the normal good way. Moonbeam got a vague feeling of deja vu, he'd had the dream before, he was sure of it, but in time it faded, it always faded, already the memory of the dream was sinking deep back in his mind from where it had risen, plotting to attack again when Moonbeam was weak and unaware.
The repulsion faded, the smell of blood lingered briefly, "I'm hungry." Moonbeam announced, "What's for breakfast?"
"Well I was thinking of having a tasty course of testosterone if you'd oblige, just.." Siggs remarked mock innocent, Dave cut her off, continuing as if he wasn't aware she was talking, or even there.
"I feel like steak" he remarked, "rare, rare and bloody."
***To Be Continued***
Britz-Now this next one I'll have up tomorrow I should think, hell I got enough space and I wanna start forcing myself to write, let the fic catch up on me while I write in advance and not the shit in the right order, anyway what do you care? Review!
Chapter Fifth teen
Quick as an Andalite's tail the human 'Posse' had struck, killed the highly respected and feared Visser Three in charge of the invasion of Earth, stolen his Blade Ship and taken out two-thirds of the first wave invasion force, then... Disappeared
The Council was outraged, the masses of the Yeerk Empire cried for blood but the human attackers had not been seen since their brief appearance over Taxxis, where they blew up a Lancer-class ship on guard and disappeared once more into the endless possibilities of Z-space.
Efflit 1318 just felt, boned, yes boned in the human slang, his host agreed, the attack was terrible of course, thousands of his fellow Yeerk's gone in one unexpected swoop, never mind the fact that Visser 3's death and to a lesser extent the death of Sub-Visser 8 had led to his new position as Visser 27.
Actually he was becoming less happy about the promotion by the minute, for staters he wasn't sure this human body was an 'upgrade' from his Sstram host, and just when he'd gotten used to using the claws instead of hands. The host was tall, dark and handsome by human standards, strong enough but not compared to a Sstram, this host was voluntary, a relief compared to the strong-willed rebellious Sstram, but annoying, a whiny, egotistical human with the dress sense of a gay male prostitute (not knowing any better Efflit had kept the tight jeans and leather overcoat look.)
But the major.. pain in his ass, was this Moon Beam Posse (as the human's had reported, few still felt doubts that this wasn't the same legendary posse who had been 'killed' assassinating President-elect Governor William Clinton.) as the Council demanded he was in charge of finding this David Moonbeam and his posse responsible for the human system attack.
'Man this blows, fuckin', can we go back to Earth now?' whined the host, Efflit ignored him.
It was time to greet his guests.
Chapter Sixteen
The bridge of the Judicator, flagship of Visser 27, was filled with a tension so thick it was suffocating, like a dense gas that would choke them all, it was concentrated on the dangerous and vicious figures of the Bounty Hunters who had taken up the offer to track down Moonbeam and his posse.
Admiral Pietta, flanked by the ship's Captain Niloc 021, stared at them with hatred so open it glared from his Human host's face like an open wound, "Bounty Hunters," he growled at Niloc, "We don't need that kind of scum." Niloc nodded eagerly, his Hork Bajir head bobbing ridiculously.
Despite the air of tension and the looks they drew the Hunters looked relaxed, alert but not expecting trouble, it wasn't uncommon for Bounty Hunters to work for the Empire, tracking down particularly cunning lost hosts, gunning after troublesome key enemies, this was just another job to them and that's why Pietta felt such open hatred for them.
A fiercely patriotic Yeerk he would fight, kill, and die for the good of the Empire, that was his cause, the very centre of his being, Bounty Hunters had no such qualms about who they killed or why, just that they got paid a decent amount for doing their ruthless job.
First in the line was Raanglock, a moderately competent Roppiss Bounty Hunter who'd hit big with a lucky hit on a Sultan on some outer-rim piss-ant world, either way the hit had earned him plenty, terrified of death Raanglock had spent a good amount of money on an assassin droid that could have his personality and mind transferred into upon his death, which came mere months later.
Such custom droids were worth a pretty credit, but it was worth every bit as far as he was concerned, his body was now a robotic form not unlike an adult Roppiss, four arms, three legs and a long whip like tail, only now much deadlier, it was filled with hidden weapons. Raanglock watched the scene unfolding with a single scanning eye.
A Leeran, Mu-Chin, carried a spear gun loaded with thousands of venom-tipped darts, capable of killing a victim in seconds, as well as an Andalite Shredder as a side arm, a vicious and deadly hunter shunned by his own peaceful species. The Leeran gift of reading minds was not wasted on him; he was very accomplished at using it to anticipate his Bounty's attacks before they knew they were making them.
Mace Corleone, a Dracyer Alpha Male was next in line, Dracyer's were a race of creatures that looked like werewolves on steroids, the head of a wolf and a body like a gorilla with excellent posture covered in a short brown fur, their legs also resembled a wolf's hind legs, much stronger than a humans and capable of jumping many times the Dracyer's own height.
Mace's barrel chest and furry slabs of biceps were covered by a rather stylish grey silk suit, thrown off only by the long tentacles, that in shape bore a resemblance to a squids dominant ones, they were crossed across his chest like two furry belts of ammunition, looping over his waist and continuing to crawl up his back. Mace was on the run from the mafia family he used to belong to back on his home planet, his eyes, startlingly soft lavender when compared to the rest of him, scanned the room with great caution, there was a very sizable bounty on his own head.
Next a Na, Sna Quarren, he held a massive Drac-Pike, that would send currents of Dracon energy into a target like a devilish cattle prod, or could shoot a short range stream to disable an enemy, on his sides where two heavy Dracon Pistols. Na's were not a naturally threatening looking race (much like how many Yeerk's viewed humans) and such a heavily armed hard-ass Na was almost humorous, almost. In a situation Roach could have related to Sna was grim death in a smaller than orthodox package
Jupiter Dranz, a towering Fornsmith leaned against the wall, looking almost sleepy and clearly bored, all six of his eyes, large red, medium blue and small green watched the bridge with disinterest, the eyes, pair by pair went up his head that tapered to a point, he was a humanoid, almost human looking in fact except for the eyes and cone-head but a giant of a human.
Although only of average size for a Fornsmith Jupiter stood an easy 8-foot and from a human point-of-view looked unnaturally broad, like an American Football player wearing enormous shoulder pads, his right arm was covered in tattoos, small skulls of different species, at least forty, representing some of his bounty's, those who had put up the best fights. Other trophies, ears and teeth mostly hung from his hunting vest.
Shardik Topeka, Son of Mullas Fanswar, was the last in line. He was a Gaft, a fiercely traditional warrior species who bore a distinct resemblance to an Earth Grizzly Bear standing upright. His battle gear was ancient; as was the sword at his side but in such good keep their age was impossible to guess. Shardik's chest and belt held a large number of blades, some mostly decorative, throwing knives, others as big and vicious as small swords, a huge harpoon-style spear was at his back and a tek-bow was his side arm.
As Piette walked past the unsightly rabble a furred tentacle slipped over his shoulders, he stiffened as it dragged him closer to Mace, a expensive Dracyer cigar, at least a foot long jutted from his muzzle, ash dripped from the end of it onto the admiral's spit-shined boots.
"Maybe you should get to know me better," The hulking Dracyer reasoned, "I ain't such a bad guy." With that the tentacle slithered away and Mace blew smoke from his nostrils into Pietta's face, he grinned a huge toothy smile that exposed a vicious set of canines. The admiral made his get away as dignified yet quickly as he could, Mace growled a deep chuckle.
Visser 27 stalked into the room, coat fluttering behind him like a cape, "Gentlemen, there will be a substantial reward for whoever finds the human David Moonbeam and his 'Posse' I want them alive, but, accidents happen, they are worth decidedly less to both you and me dead."
He paced back and forth the line as if deep in thought, "At the very least I want a corpse for the Empire, heads on a silver platter." He turned to Jupiter and pointed menacingly, "No disintegrations."
The lumbering Fornsmith waved a hand dismissively, "Yeah yeah, whatever the fuck."
"Yo, Visser." Mace yelled, "You might have a different idea of substantial than the rest of us, how much?"
"Five hundred thousand Imperial Credits and sanctuary on a planet of your choice." Efflit replied.
"We were promised 10 million on the YNN!" Yelled the robotic Roppiss.
"Not by me." Was the Visser's cold reply, "That was mere propaganda, I have altered it."
There was a collection of grumbling, Jupiter had agreed to the hunt for the fame not the money, Mace sucked at his cigar, he needed the money, he'd never lost a bounty, but hadn't been in the game long enough for that to be an impressive statistic or a big earning point.
"Gentlemen, happy hunting." Said the Visser and he dismissed them.
Chapter Seventeen
The boy watched his father strike his mother again and again, at seven he did not understand that this was wrong, it was a normal thing for him, he played with his toy cars, driving them around the maroon stains in the carpet, dried blood his mother had been to laid up to clean in time.
"You cock-sucking whore! Don't think I don't know! Don't think I don't know about him!" His father screamed manically, he back-handed the screaming, bleeding woman, her back connected with a kitchen counter and she fell to the ground, weeping.
"Please Jerry, I don't, I don't know what you're talking about!" She cried.
"Bullshit!!" He yelled and kicked in her stomach, his hand, almost working of it's own accord found the butchers knife, lying on the kitchen table.
It's blade was greasy looking but still gleamed in the naked bulb of the kitchen light, the child felt a worry in him that was beyond his years and admittedly not great mental facilities (he was slow, even for a seven year-old, having no real schooling, a waste of his fathers drinking money.)
His father reached down and grabbed a clump of his mothers hair, she moaned but never saw the blade coming, he hacked across her throat, blood spewed from the cut, blood gurgled out of her mouth, her nose, a pool of thick red liquid flowed freely and grew till it covered the kitchen floor.
His father knelt by her, blood soaking through the knees of his pants, taking in what he had just done, finally he spat on her cheek, "Fuckin' two-timing slut." He said defiantly and he walked out of the room, passing his son as if he was part of the scenery.
The boy crawled over to her, she was dead but still warm, he cuddled against her, the coppery smell of her blood rode through his nostrils, "Mommy? Mommy?" He was not worried yet, it was not the first time his mother had not been able to get up after one of his parents arguments.
But he was slipping in her life-blood, he could smell the death coming off her, and now there was something wrong with her neck, a second mouth, toothless and gaping, an obscene smile drooling blood.
The child lifted his hand to his face and looked at the blood on it, he streaked it down one cheek, it was coming to him now, his mommy was never going to get up again.
He reached for the butcher's knife, left where his father had dropped it after performing his gruesome deed, somewhere; deep in his mind he knew what he had to do with it.
Yes, he knew what had to be done now.
But a tugging as the ship went from Z-space and into normal space above the casino-riddled moon of Menschu woke Moonbeam from his slumber, that and a hand on his thigh.
Siggs stood above him, he had fallen asleep in the Captains chair, "Thought you might like a little morning delight sugah." She smiled seductively.
Moonbeam wasn't in the mood, he pushed her away without a word spoken, she looked dismayed but didn't protest.
A dream, a sick dream, blood, and death, but not in the normal good way. Moonbeam got a vague feeling of deja vu, he'd had the dream before, he was sure of it, but in time it faded, it always faded, already the memory of the dream was sinking deep back in his mind from where it had risen, plotting to attack again when Moonbeam was weak and unaware.
The repulsion faded, the smell of blood lingered briefly, "I'm hungry." Moonbeam announced, "What's for breakfast?"
"Well I was thinking of having a tasty course of testosterone if you'd oblige, just.." Siggs remarked mock innocent, Dave cut her off, continuing as if he wasn't aware she was talking, or even there.
"I feel like steak" he remarked, "rare, rare and bloody."
***To Be Continued***
Britz-Now this next one I'll have up tomorrow I should think, hell I got enough space and I wanna start forcing myself to write, let the fic catch up on me while I write in advance and not the shit in the right order, anyway what do you care? Review!