Free The Sheriff of Yrnameer by Michael Rubens Page B

wasn’t sure if he did believe her, but she seemed slightly deranged and had a gun and that sufficed.
    Now the corridors were filling with wobbling, shimmering globules of water as the mist from the sprinkler system coalesced into spheres, spheres that burst as the four glided through the passageways.
    “Cole,” said Bacchi from behind him. “Cole, wait up.”
    Cole grabbed a handrail and slowed himself to a stop.
    “What the hell is going on?” asked Bacchi.
    “It’s a long story.”
    “As in, you stole Teg’s ship?”
    “Yes.”
    “That’s not such a long story.”
    “There are details,” said Cole, turning to go.
    “I bet. Where are Tangy and Samantha?”
    He drew back as Cole spun to face him.
    “Aha,” said Bacchi. “Those kinds of details.”
    Cole turned and started off again. Bacchi followed.
    “Where’s your ship, Cole? In a jar?”
    “Where’s yours?”
    “In a jar. I was double-parked,” said Bacchi. His tone turned reproachful. “You were going to let her shoot me,” he said.
    “Not a chance. You saw her aim—she’d have hit someone else instead.”
    “Cole, hold on!”
    Cole stopped.
    “Listen,” said Bacchi, “I owed you money. You robbed me. I figure we’re about even. Truce?” He extended a hand.
    “Bacchi, the last time I shook your hand …”
    “I know. But they let you out after, what, a month?”
    “Two.”
    “Big deal. What about the time on BordCo?”
    Cole indicated Bacchi’s tail. “You seem to have recovered.”
    “It grew back crooked, Cole.”
    “I’m supposed to feel bad about that? Maybe you’re forgetting about Mazgoprom.”
    “I didn’t know it was armed. How about Foron B?”
    “I honestly thought he was a she.”
    They regarded each other for a moment. Bacchi pointed to Cole’s bruised face. “Kenneth?”
    “Kenneth, Teg, a Very Large Alien …”
    Bacchi nodded. “You stole
Teg’s ship,”
he said with grudging admiration.
    Cole felt himself smiling despite himself.
    “Truce?” repeated Bacchi, sticking his hand out again.
    “Fine,” said Cole, shaking it. “Truce.” At least until I can get you near an air lock, he thought.
    “And no nonsense with the air locks or anything,” said Bacchi.
    A cry from down the corridor interrupted them.
    “Come on!” said Cole, and accelerated toward the source of the sound.
    “What’s the cargo, Cole?” asked Bacchi from behind him.
    “None of your business.”
    “You don’t know, either.”
    “Not the slightest.”
    “Where are we going?”
    “Yrnameer.”
    “Cole, quit farging around!”
    They caught up to Philip and Nora in the cargo bay, the blinking emergency lights strobing their movement, turning the humans’ skin dead green and Bacchi’s a mottled gray. At some level Cole registered the fact that the sprinklers were on in the cargo bay, but the air was mostly devoid of water. That thought, however, was quickly shouldered aside by the observation that the crates were making ominous creaking and straining noises.
    “Oh, no,” said Philip. “Oh, no. Oh no oh no oh no.”
    “Nora, what’s happening?” asked Cole. “What’s in there? Nora?”
    “Remember you saying it couldn’t get any worse?” she said.
    The crates looked to Cole to be trembling and bulging. From inside them came strange thudding noises, and then an eerie keening was added to the mix.
    “Quick!” said Nora. “We have to—”
    An explosive
pop!
cut her off, as the hinges on one of the crates gave way and the lid burst open.
    Like a spider springing out of its hole to seize its prey, a taloned hand shot up and grabbed the edge of the crate.
    Cole heard himself screaming a dissonant chord with the others.

The sun was rising over planet Sanitek, which the Greys still insisted on calling X’x”x-x.
    Who could pronounce that? thought Charlie Perkins. Four glottal stops, three of them while inhaling and the final one with a big breathy exhale, plus the simultaneous clicky noises indicated by