"If they catch you down there, they'll hang you, or throw you out an open air lock. One way or another, you'll end up dead meat...savvy?"
How does one describe a genetic hybrid humanoid? Captain Björn's name was the only thing normal about him. If he was from Earth; RU-22, 4k9 of the Snoopelite system, or one of the many colonized planets and asteroids in the Republic Federation was a mystery. A six-foot tall, heavy-built hairless sauropod with nasty habit... cannibalism. Being notability known as a killer who ate his enemys, his reputation had followed him from the farside of many galaxys.
"A runt like you won't last a day down there."
Three inch upper and lower yellow incisor-tusks mashed together spraying viscous mucus as he spoke. Stefn Perry wiped his face off with the full length of his shirt sleeve, and stepped back half a dozen steps. Now his back was against the obiting space station's bulkhead. If the big lunker stepped forward, it was going to get real messy. Perry frankly wasn't packing.
"Tell me this, Captain, how do you communicate wearing a space suit? Let me guess, some type of natho-dental-vacuum unit. Am I right?" Perry smiled to himself, knowing Böjrn would either kill him right there and then, or he would negotiate.
"Eh! You, you..." Björn snarled. His black leather outfit creaked when he moved, one boot scraped on the metal floor louder than the racket coming from the bar lounge down the hall. Perry slid his back sideways along the bulkhead as the Captain stuttered in rage. With forty-four discoloured gnashing pearls gaping, Bootstrap Perry hoped he was reading the creature correctly; anthropomorphic communication was his forte. Guareyes popping, large circles of pungent moisture suddenly became visible as the beast lifted his massive arms in a threating posture.
"That hunk of junk you call a cargo freighter probably couldn't make it to the Aragnan star system. I bet you've never set foot on BloriX, have you? You're big, so you like to intimidate...am I right?"
"I kill you Viceroy boy. Sqeesh you like a boeufbug."
"I've never been afraid of drowning, and I like my sourmash with a milgoo chaser. Come on, mama's boy...cut the bad-boy act and let me buy you a shebe brew or two at the bar."
"Whatfurrr..."
"You're a cunning linguist Captain, a loquacious loofah of the lubber line...we have business to discuss.
2 comments:
Never better than when you're writing pulp sci-fi!!! My favorite!!! It doesn't seem related, but is the "Bald Bomb Shell" post tied in with this at all, or just something that came out of the image that you have with it???
By the way, have you ever read any of the Nina Zero novels??? Total pulp, and set in my locale, they kick ass, bet you'd love 'em. Also, Nina reminds me a bit of Lilly...
I don't know...sometimes I just write stuff. When I read it again days later, I say,"OMG!"
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