David Robbins - Houston Run

They had to come!

They had to succeed!

Her flowing, oily black hair was whipped by the wind as she turned to the north. The wind felt cool on her scaly yellow skin. Her thin blue dress did little to protect her from the elements.

That bastard had to pay!

Had to reap his punishment for murdering the Doktor!

Her beloved Doktor!

She frowned at the recollection, the memories almost too agonizing to tolerate. She recalled the campaign the Doktor had waged against the accursed Family. She vividly remembered the final battle in Catlow, Wyoming. And tears welled in her eyes as she mentally reviewed the day after that last conflict, when she’d donned a grubby pair of jeans, an old brown shirt, and a tattered tan coat and, after stuffing her waist-length hair into a shabby cap, had ventured into Catlow at sunset, determined to learn the fate of her creator… and her lover.

Somewhere in Androxia, a siren wailed.

She’d viewed the battle from a nearby hill and watched, horrified, as the damned Warriors and their allies defeated the Doktor’s Genetic Research Division, utterly wiped them out. So far as she knew, she was the only one remaining. And she wouldn’t have survived, would have perished with the Doktor and the rest, if her darling mentor hadn’t ordered her to remain behind.

She sobbed.

The Doktor had felt uneasy about Catlow, had even speculated it was a trap. Was that the reason he’d left her behind? Was it because he’d wanted to spare her?

And to think!

She’d almost deserted him!

A lump formed in her throat as the bitter remembrance of her flight from Catlow overwhelmed her. She’d wanted to reach Denver as fast as possible, to demand Samuel II lead a counter-strike against Catlow. She’d gone 20 miles before she’d braked her jeep and done a U-turn, heading back to Catlow. Her intuition had told her the Doktor was dead, but she’d needed to ascertain the truth with her own eyes, to actually see his corpse, before she could accept the reality of his demise. She’d doubled back, concealed the jeep, stolen the clothing she needed from a deserted ranch house, and bravely sallied into Catlow as darkness descended.

And she’d found him.

Tears cascaded down her round cheeks.

The slime!

The fucking slime!

They’d hung the Doktor by his heels from a tree near the town square!

And there they were, the inebriated residents of Catlow, celebrating their newfound independence, drinking and singing and mocking the Doktor.

She’d walked among them, rage filling her being, and had listened to their banter, particularly to the conversation concerning the battle. And she’d learned what she’d needed.

The name of the Doktor’s killer.

Blade.

Right then and there, she’d vowed to repay him, to revenge herself on the son of a bitch. A simple bullet was too good for the bastard. Her vengeance had to be special. Spectacular. She’d wanted Blade to suffer as no man had ever suffered before, and she still did.

Oh, how he’d pay!

She’d departed Catlow, returned to her jeep. And as she drove to the south, a new plan had formed in her devious mind. She’d realized Samuel II might not be equal to the task of destroying the Family, and subsequent events had confirmed her estimation. She’d known she couldn’t achieve her revenge by her lonesome. She’d perceived she needed a better ally than Samuel II, and what better one than the Doktor’s secret confederate in Androxia?

Who better than Primator?

She smiled, stifling the flow of tears, anticipating her impending triumph. It’d taken so long—so damn long—but she’d finally prevailed on Primator to assist her, had convinced him killing Blade was for the benefit of all Androxia.

And the fool had fallen for her ploy!

She thought of Blade writhing in torment as his body was lowered into a vat of molten steel, pleading for his life, and she cackled.

Was it safe yet?

Gremlin cautiously eased the closet door open and peeked outside. The cockpit was shrouded in silence, dimly lit with a greenish glow by the overhead lights. He craned his neck, examining every square inch, verifying the silver men were gone. Satisfied, he tentatively stepped from concealment, prepared to duck from sight at the slightest sound.

“Pssst!”

Gremlin involuntarily jumped, his red eyes widening in consternation.

“Pssst! Gremlin!” whispered a voice from near the computer. “Don’t faint, you twit! It’s me! Lynx!” So saying, Lynx emerged from hiding around the right side of the large navigational console. “It was cramped as all get-out back there,” he complained.

Gremlin glanced at the doorway. “Does Lynx think they left, yes? Would not want to run into them again, no!”

Lynx crossed the cockpit and joined Gremlin. “Those morons are long gone.”

“Where is Ferret, yes?” Gremlin asked.

“I’m right here,” Ferret announced, coming through the doorway. “I hid in a compartment in the corridor. I saw them leave with Blade and Hickok.”

“Poor Hickok, yes!” Gremlin exclaimed. “We should have helped him, no?”

“No,” Lynx said.

“What happened in here?” Ferret inquired. “I heard all the gunshots, and I peeped out and saw one of those big guys carrying Blade right past me. He came back and lugged Hickok away.”

“They captured Hickok, yes!” Gremlin declared.

Ferret stared at Lynx. “And you did nothing to help?”

“Nope,” Lynx admitted. “Why should I have helped him? Hickok told us not to move unless he gave the word.” Lynx shrugged. “The dummy never gave the word.”

“So you just sat there and did nothing?” Ferret asked accusingly.

“Hey! Don’t look at me like that!” Lynx snapped. “I was following his orders! And I didn’t just sit there. I was lyin’ behind the computer.”

Ferret shook his head in disapproval. “I can’t believe you! You let them take him!”

“It all happened so fast, there wasn’t much I could do,” Lynx commented. “Besides, I didn’t see you two lend a hand.”

“Gremlin was in closet, yes,” Gremlin remarked. “Gremlin didn’t see what happened.”

“Nor did I,” Ferret said. “All I could see was a stretch of the hallway.”

Lynx glanced at both of them. “What? Your ears ain’t workin’? You couldn’t tell Hickok was in trouble?”

Neither Ferret or Gremlin responded.

“Don’t be pointing no finger at me!” Lynx mentioned. “At least I crawled out when the shootin’ started. I saw them take him down.” He paused. “There’s something fishy about those characters. I don’t think they’re human. You should see the way they move. And Hickok’s bullets didn’t have much effect. So after they knocked him out, I crawled back behind the computer. I figured there wasn’t much I could do, not until I learn more about these clowns.”

Gremlin gazed out the canopy. Several hundred feet overhead was a corrugated metal ceiling. Fluorescent lights were suspended from chains at 20-foot intervals. “Where are we, yes?”

Ferret looked upward. “My guess would be in a hangar of some kind.

But I wouldn’t have the slightest idea where the hangar is located. We were in the air for a couple of hours. We could be anywhere.”

“Who cares where we are?” Lynx said. “This is our golden opportunity!”

“Uh-oh,” Ferret declared. “I don’t like that gleam in your eyes.”

“Don’t you see?” Lynx queried. “This is the chance we need to get what we want!”

“Gremlin doesn’t understand, no,” Gremlin stated.

“I think I do,” Ferret said. “And I’m not sure I like it.”