Condemned (Death Planet Book 1) (43 page)

At least it was better than what Red would have done.

“I need some clothes,” he said. “The King’s men took mine, and I’m sick of being naked.”

Guy leaned against the mast.

“They’ll have some at the monastery.”

“How far is that?”

Guy shaded his eyes with his hand as he stared along the coastline. Daniel leaned over his shoulder. All he could see was rocks, water and trees. And clouds, where flying things circled before diving toward the water and grabbing swimming things in their mouths or claws.

Guy shrugged. “Can't be too far. Have you sailed before?”

“No. Have you?”

“Never even been on a sail boat before.” Guy stared up at the sails. “It's a piece of cloth on a stick. How hard can it be?”

M
oses stared out to sea from the top of the cliffs. The boat bobbed up and down on the waves, threatening to tip Guy and Daniel into the water as they fumbled with the ropes. It twisted from side to side as they pulled the sail. Had the morons never been on a boat before? At this rate, he wouldn’t have to kill them, he could just stand there and watch them drown. At least the Brain was clinging to the mast, so he might survive long enough for Moses to save him.

Chains rattled in the trees behind him. A familiar, dark face peered out of the undergrowth. Another man followed behind, both of them naked, and bleeding from deep scratches in their wet skin.

“Ass-Reamer!” Moses yelled. “Bukkake! My boys!”

The men crept toward the cliff, dragging the chain between them. So the bear hadn’t eaten everyone, after all.

The remains of an arm dangled from a manacle on the chain, ending at a bloody mass of muscle and tendons, around the exposed bone of what had once been an elbow.

Was that? No, don’t even think about whose arm that was. It would only bring back bad memories. Or good memories that turned bad, of good times they would never see again. The others were gone. Best to forget and move on.

Moses raised his arms. “Come to daddy, my poor, lost boys.”

Ass-Reamer and Bukkake crept toward him, sniffling as they moved. Moses wiped the blood from their faces with his hands, then lay their heads on his shoulders. He rubbed their bare, hairy backs as they sobbed.

“There, there. You’re safe now. Moses will look after you.”

Drones swarmed in. Moses swung an arm at them, and they backed away. This should be their private time, not something for the fucking commissars to watch back home. His boys had suffered enough.

He had built his business from nothing, after he gave all his shinies to Guy, bribing the bastard to let him escape. He could do it again. Would do it again. And, with the King out of the way, he had no fear of being sent to the dungeon.

But, if he ever saw Guy and the boy again, they'd pay for what they'd done to his poor, sweet boys.

They’d better hope they do drown, because it would be a lot less painful than the fates he would think up. He'd have a lot of time to think about it, in the long, hard months of work before his business empire was restored.

The bushes moved again. Dark eyes stared out. Dark eyes set in a dark, furry face above big, thick lips. More faces stared at Moses from the treeline, the eyes small and hate-filled.

“There'sss that bassstard,” Red yelled.

Oh, Guy was really gonna pay.

Edward M. Grant is a physicist and software developer turned SF and horror writer. He lives in the frozen wastes of Canada, but was born in England, where he wrote for a science and technology magazine and worked on numerous indie movies in and around London. He has travelled the world, been a VIP at several space shuttle launches, survived earthquakes and a tsunami, climbed Mt Fuji, assisted the search for the MH370 airliner, and visits nuclear explosion sites as a hobby.

Find him online at
www.edwardmgrant.com
,
or subscribe to his new release mailing list at
www.edwardmgrant.com/list
.

ALSO BY EDWARD M. GRANT

PETRINA

A stripper, a hitman, his target, and a monk with a severed head in his bag. It's a typical passenger manifest for the crew of the space freighter 'Big Momma'.

Russ is hiding from 'Nam flashbacks. Alex may have met her dream guy. Max is tempted to throw them all out the airlock.

They only have to survive a three week flight from the Heavenly Retreat habitat--The Sleaziest Place In The Solar System
TM
--to the remote asteroid, 482 Petrina.

But someone doesn't want them to get there.

SPACE WEASELS

Vicious, congenitally bureaucratic, and proud of their resplendent flame-red uniforms which give them a five minute life expectancy in combat, the Flaming Space Weasels wiped out most of Dirk Beretta's fellow space marines at the battle of Din Bin Foo... then served them for lunch with a nice Merlot.

In the aftermath, Dirk quits his job as poster boy for the space marines, to drown his sorrow in cheap booze and cheaper women. But when a gang of pirate Weasels come hunting fresh meat for the kibble factories, his brand of pig-headed determination and excessive violence may offer the chance for redemption... and revenge.

A 7,000 word science fiction short story.

FADE TO GREY

How do you repair a dead planet?

Maintenance Bot M-3 was always proud of the smooth and reliable operation of the starships it maintained as they travelled the galaxy searching for life on unexplored worlds. It lived for the desperate struggle against the forces of chaos and decay, fighting against time to complete repairs before disaster struck.

But this job may be beyond even its capabilities.

A 15,000 word science fiction novelette set in The Future’s universe.

ROBO-ZOMBIE

Darren's Robo-Rat project would have saved countless lives, allowing rescuers to go places no human could survive. If only the zombie apocalypse hadn't interrupted its funding.

Now he's trapped on a hotel roof in Saskatoon with his boss, while the girl he loves fights zombies far below. But Rob the zombie, a case of electronics, and a cordless drill may offer a chance to rescue her after all...

A 7,500 word science fiction horror short story. With remotely-controlled zombies.

DEATH PLANET #2

T
he spider was going to eat Daniel’s face. There was no longer any question about its intentions. He could tell what Simon wanted by the way the creature crouched on his chest, staring into his eyes, just waiting for the moment Daniel could no longer raise the energy to care enough to avoid its bite. Simon’s thick, furry legs tapped on Daniel’s bare skin, as though trying to determine whether he was still alive.

Daniel took a deep breath, his chest rose rapidly, and the spider scuttled across to his shoulder, then down his arm to the logs that made up the hull of the boat they’d stolen. Borrowed. Well, not much difference when the previous owners were dead, murdered by Red and his gang, then left hanging to bleed out before Red cooked them.

Simon scuttled across the deck, his feet tapping against the wood as he raced to the far side to check Guy and the Brain. He raised his front legs, and tapped them against the tattoo on the Brain’s bald head. The Brain moaned. Simon raced along the deck to the Brain’s hand, then ran up his arm, and settled down on the Brain’s chest.

Daniel hadn’t drunk anything for two days. The Brain had tried to rig up some device he could pour sea water into to clean it enough for them to drink, but Daniel had spewed out the mouthful he sipped as the salt tried to eat through his cheeks. The Brain apologized, and tried again.

He was still trying to fix the purification gizmo when he collapsed, mumbling something about his mother. That was the end of it, and the three of them just lay there, waiting to die.

It had all seemed so simple when they got on the boat. They could escape from Red and his men, and they’d just float along the coast for a few hours, then sail onto the beach near the monastery, and get organized before they returned to Kingston for the Revolution. With the King dead, the Borderlands would need a new leader, someone to bring freedom and happiness to the people he had enslaved.

So much for that. Daniel hadn’t seen the coast in days. The boat had sailed out to sea, and any attempt they’d made to steer had just taken it further away. The Brain had eventually figured out the right ropes to pull to control the course, but, by then, the storm had hit them. Dark waves taller than the mast tossed the boat from side to side, until they just huddled in the hut on the deck and hoped the storm would end before the creaking logs tore themselves apart.

By the time it was over, the mast had collapsed across the deck, and the sail was just a torn sheet of canvas trailing behind them in the water. They untied the last remaining rope, let the sail float away, then waited for any sign of land. Guy stabbed something in the water with a fish-like tail, and tentacles on its head, but the flesh made Daniel feel even sicker than the storm had made him. And it did little to quench his thirst.

So, now, there he was, lying on his back in the shadow of the hut, naked, and sunburned in places where he’d never known you could get sunburned. His ribs still ached, his nose still hadn’t healed after Skull-Face broke it. The scratches across his body stung every time a wave broke over the side of the boat, and splashed him with salt water.

But now, he was too tired to care.

A face stared down at him. A pretty, young face with big eyes and long brown hair that dangled toward him. Erica had come to rescue him. She’d flown across dozens of light years, braved the worst Hades could throw at her to track him down, and, now, she was ready to take him away from this place. Back home, back to EdCamp. Then their own apartment together, once the World Eugenics Council approved their Mating.

He smiled at her. She smiled back. That wide, loving smile that always melted his heart.

Then the world faded away.

• CHAPTER 1
  
• CHAPTER 2
  
• CHAPTER 3
  
• CHAPTER 4
  
• CHAPTER 5
  
• CHAPTER 6
  
• CHAPTER 7
  
• CHAPTER 8
  
• CHAPTER 9
  
• CHAPTER 10
  
• CHAPTER 11
  
• CHAPTER 12
  
• CHAPTER 13
  
• CHAPTER 14
  
• CHAPTER 15
  
• CHAPTER 16
  
• CHAPTER 17
  
• CHAPTER 18
  
• CHAPTER 19
  
• CHAPTER 20
  
• CHAPTER 21
  
• CHAPTER 22
  
• CHAPTER 23
  
• CHAPTER 24
  
• CHAPTER 25
  
• CHAPTER 26
  
• CHAPTER 27
  
• CHAPTER 28
  
• CHAPTER 29
  
• CHAPTER 30
  
• CHAPTER 31
  
• CHAPTER 32
  
• CHAPTER 33
  
• CHAPTER 34
  
• CHAPTER 35
  
• CHAPTER 36
  
• CHAPTER 37
  
• CHAPTER 38
  
• CHAPTER 39
  
• CHAPTER 40
  
• CHAPTER 41
  
• CHAPTER 42
  
• CHAPTER 43
  
• CHAPTER 44
  
• CHAPTER 45
  
• CHAPTER 46
  
• CHAPTER 47
  
• CHAPTER 48
  
• CHAPTER 49
  
• CHAPTER 50
  
• CHAPTER 51
  
• CHAPTER 52
  
• CHAPTER 53
  
• CHAPTER 54
  
• CHAPTER 55
  
• CHAPTER 56
  
• CHAPTER 57
  
• CHAPTER 58
  
• CHAPTER 59
  
• CHAPTER 60
  
• CHAPTER 61
  
• CHAPTER 62
  
• CHAPTER 63
  
• CHAPTER 64
  
• CHAPTER 65
  
• CHAPTER 66
  
• CHAPTER 67
  
• CHAPTER 68
  
• CHAPTER 69
  
• CHAPTER 70
  
• CHAPTER 71
  
• CHAPTER 72
  
• CHAPTER 73
  
• CHAPTER 74
  
• CHAPTER 75
  
• CHAPTER 76
  
• CHAPTER 77
  
• CHAPTER 78
  
• CHAPTER 79
  
• CHAPTER 80
  
• CHAPTER 81
  
• CHAPTER 82
  
• CHAPTER 83
  
• CHAPTER 84
  
• CHAPTER 85
  
• CHAPTER 86
  
• CHAPTER 87
  
• CHAPTER 88
  
• CHAPTER 89
  
• CHAPTER 90
  
• CHAPTER 91
  
• CHAPTER 92
  
• ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  
• ALSO BY EDWARD M. GRANT
  
• PREVIEW: MAN-EATING LESBIAN PIRATES