The Sheriff of Yrnameer (2 page)

“Uh, jeez. Let me guess: Teg.”

“Teg!” said Kenneth, apparently not hearing him. “He’s courageous, handsome—”

“He’s not that handsome.”

“—dashing—”

“He’s not that handsome.”

“Oh, please. He’s easily a nine point four, and an
honest
nine point four. He certainly didn’t need to pay some kid to hack into the dating-service system and boost his Handsome rating from a seven point six to an eight.”

How did Kenneth know about that?

“I know a great deal about you, Cole. Don’t forget, I’ve been following you for quite a while. Anyway, this is all academic,” continued Kenneth. “Have you been consuming a lot of the local fish lately?”

“What? Why?”

“High levels of amargam. Very bad for my offspring.”

“You know, now that you mention it, I’ve been on a total bender with those fish. Fillets, steaks—”

“Um-hmm.”

“—uh, soup, fish sticks … uh … sashimi! Raw sashimi!
Raw
!”

“Strictly speaking, ‘raw sashimi’ is redundant. So, which of your eye sockets would you like me to use?”

“Kenneth, listen, I’ve probably got amargam coming out the hoo-ha!”

“Well, fifty thousand eggs, I’m sure some will survive.”

“All right, Kenneth, I didn’t want to do this. But I’ve about had it. I’m going to count to three, and you’re going to put me down, and then you’re going to give me back my gun, which was very expensive. One—”

“Two three,” said Kenneth, finishing for him.

“Kenneth! Farg it!” Cole kicked and thrashed about violently. He took a vicious swing at Kenneth’s collection of eyes. The eyes easily moved aside, like wheat parting gently before the wind.

Cole was left panting, exhausted. His shirt succumbed to gravity and flopped down, bunching up under his chin. He could feel the cool night air on his rather pasty belly, not quite as firm as it once was. He sighed.

“Kenneth, please—this is humiliating.”

“Nonsense, Cole. You have nothing to be ashamed of. I’d think you’d be proud to host my young.”

“Not for me. For you. This is beneath you.”

“Tell me about it.”

Kenneth’s ovipositor drew back to strike.

“Hold on!” said Cole, “Can’t we just
hee hee hee
!”

Kenneth paused. “Something’s amusing?” He sounded amenable to joining in the joke.

“No, I’m
hee hee hee
!” said Cole. “Your
tentacleheeheeheeee
!”

Kenneth was holding Cole by his right leg, a tentacle wrapped around his calf. An unseen patch of that coarse insectoid hair had started to brush Cole lightly on the sensitive skin above his ankle.

“Help! Hee hee heeeee
!” screamed Cole.
“Heehee SOMEBODY HELP ME HEE HEEEEEEH!
!”

“Cole—ho ho ho—it’s no use. Ho ho ho.” Kenneth was now chuckling jovially. “There’s no one—ho ho—around.”

“Hee hee hig hig hig
!”

“Ho ho ho! The stress monitors—ho ho!—have been disabled. The police won’t be respondinghoho
hohoho
!”

“HEE HEE HEE
!”

“HO HO HO
!”

It was true about the stress monitors. Cole had made sure of that, although it was Bacchi who did the actual disabling. The clean-scrubbed network of alleys, set within the warehouse district, was the perfect location for an ambush. Which is why Bacchi had chosen it to ambush the tudpees, and Cole had chosen it to ambush Bacchi, and Kenneth had chosen it to ambush Cole.

“Ho ho ho!” repeated Kenneth, jiggling with laughter, the ovipositor quivering as it approached Cole’s right eye.

Cole’s sheer terror expanded far beyond its original borders and became all-engulfing, overwhelming terror. He opened his mouth to scream.
“Hee hee heeee! Hee hee heee!
!” was what came out.

“Hohohohohoooo
!” replied Kenneth.

“Hee hee hee hig hig hig
!”

“Hohohohohohohohooooo
!”

“Hee hee hee hee heeeeeGACK
!”

Cole’s laughter was abruptly cut off as Kenneth wrapped another tentacle around his neck and squeezed.

“Sorry—ho ho—about that. Ho ho ho,” said Kenneth. He let out a big sigh of pleasure, wiping several eyes with another rubbery limb.
“Aaaah
. I’ve always so enjoyed our conversations.”

“Kenneth,” croaked Cole, “Wait. You can’t do this. We’re two old pros. There’s a grudging respect between us.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

The ovipositor was drawing back again, coiling to plunge its way through Cole’s eye socket into his skull.

Cole clapped his hands over his eyes. Two tentacles pulled them away. He shut his eyes as tight as possible. He felt a slight sting near his right eye, and his eyelid popped open of its own accord—and he couldn’t close it.

“Sorry. I’ve had to paralyze your eyelid.”

Cole stared unwillingly at Kenneth and his hideous ovipositor.

“Kenneth, wait. Wait!
Wait
!”

“Too late, Cole. Feed my young well.”

And things had been going so nicely.

Ten minutes prior to his encounter with Kenneth, Cole had been watching two innocent, gnomish-looking tudpees, hardly taller than children, as they made their way down the narrow, dimly lit alley. Concealed in his hiding place, he could just barely hear them as they chatted in the high-pitched and pleasing tudpee language.

“Heeblee beeblee,” chirped one.

“Heeble leeble beeblee,” chirped the other.

Add conical hats and they wouldn’t look out of place standing motionless in someone’s garden. There’s a species you can trust, thought Cole. Their tastes simple, their clothes demure; hardworking, blameless craftscreatures and merchants and keepers of records.

Other than that idle thought, Cole had no interest in them. He had a great deal of interest in Bacchi, who owed him a great deal of money. And
wow
, did Cole need that money.

He’d been tracking Bacchi for quite a while, trailing him from FunWorld World to InVestCo 3, and carefully observing him over several days as he made repeated trips to the sprawling warehouse district. Except for a waste-treatment plant, the area was dominated by massive buildings that existed solely to store financial transaction records printed on nearly indestructible Payper. Those Payper financial transaction records, in turn, existed solely to enrich the Payper Corporation, which had skillfully lobbied to require that all financial transactions be recorded on nearly indestructible Payper.

Bacchi had clearly been reconning the alley behind the treatment
plant for what Cole assumed were nefarious purposes, because if Bacchi had a purpose, it was by definition nefarious. There’s a species—or at least a member of a species—that you can’t trust at all, thought Cole.

Cole had watched him deactivate the stress monitors half an hour ago, ensuring that the authorities wouldn’t detect any untoward activity. Then Bacchi had climbed into his hiding place to lie in wait. But for whom? Not the tudpees, who wouldn’t have anything to steal. They were now about ten meters from Cole, nearing a battered Dumpster.

“Beeblee heeblee,” said one, cheerfully.

“Leeble leeble beeblee,” said the other with equal cheer, apparently agreeing with his compatriot.

Cole shifted, itchy and uncomfortable. So who was it? Why come here, where most of the foot traffic was of the robotic sort?

“Heebleeble?”

“Leebleeblee.”

And then the top of the Dumpster exploded open and Bacchi leaped out, his gun ready even before his boots hit the pavement.

“CHUPETU BALALAAAAH
!” bellowed Bacchi.

“EEEEE
!” squeaked the little tudpees, throwing their tiny hands in the air.

“The money
!” said Bacchi.

“Eeee
!” repeated the tudpees, and turned to run away.

“Stop!” shouted Bacchi, starting after them, and then he was nearly wrenched off his feet by his long jacket, which was snagged on the top of the Dumpster. “Crap!” He yanked at his jacket, pulling the teetering Dumpster over with a crash, putrid garbage avalanching forth over his lower legs.

“Stop!” he shouted again at the fleeing tudpees, and fired in the air.
“Eeee
!” they squealed again, and stopped running and instead began pelting him with refuse.

“Hey!” he said, trying to aim his gun with one hand while simultaneously fending off gobbets of rotten food and worse with the other. Several tudpee-size handfuls of fetid rubbish splattered off his forehead before he could fire a second shot, this one blowing a six-inch crater in the ground between the tudpees and spraying them with chunks of pavement. The garbage throwing stopped.

“The money,” said Bacchi, breathing heavily, “now.”

Bacchi was humanoid, if one wasn’t too strict about the number of digits on each hand or the tail. His skin was mottled and blotchy, his nose a thick, flabby, semiprehensile thing that dangled obscenely to his chin. The gun was a Firestick 14, the handgun of choice for those who want to blast large holes in their enemies.

“The money!” repeated Bacchi, cocking the weapon.

“Eee!” repeated the tudpees.

“Now
!”

“Eee
!”

And then Cole made
his
entrance.

“Hello, Bacchi.”

“Cole
!”

Farg, it was perfect—the timing, the surprised tudpees, the stunned expression on Bacchi’s face, the patch of flattering moonlight Cole had stepped into and then leaned out of to hide an unbecoming titter.

“Drop it, Bacchi.”

Bacchi hesitated, his gaze flicking from his own gun to Cole’s Firestick 15, the handgun of choice for those who want to blast even larger holes in their enemies. The copywriters at the Firestick Corporation weren’t especially creative, but they were honest.

Bacchi threw his gun down in disgust, the weapon making a wet noise as it hit the thick layer of garbage around his ankles.

“Yayyy!” the tudpees squealed, and scampered gratefully to their savior, clinging to Cole’s legs like frightened children.

“It’s all right, little fellows—you’re safe now. No one’s going to hurt you,” he said. “Watch the pants,” he added, brushing at a smear of something unrecognizable.

“Oh, farg me to tears,” said Bacchi. “You’re pathetic, Cole.”

“Um, which one of us was hiding in a Dumpster, waiting to ambush some tudpees?”

“Um, which one of us was hiding in another Dumpster, waiting to ambush me?”

Cole scraped a half-rotted melon rind off his shoulder. “It was labeled as a recycling bin,” he muttered.

“So now what, Mr. Cosmic Crime-fighter? Here to save the day?”

“That’s right, Bacchi,” said Cole. “Don’t be frightened, little creatures,” he added to the tudpees. He patted one on the head in a paternal fashion. The tudpee made a cooing sound.

Bacchi snorted. “Hey, guys, ask him what he’s really here for.”

The tudpees looked up at Cole with innocent, inquiring expressions.

“Don’t listen to him,” said Cole reassuringly. “I’m here to help.”

“Still owe Karg all that money, huh?”

The tudpees were whispering nervously to each other.

“Yes, as a matter of fact I do. And guess what, Bacchi?
You
still owe
me
!”

“Well guess what, Cole? I’d have the money right now if you hadn’t so rudely interrupted me!”

“Uh-huh. You were going to get twenty thousand NDs by robbing some hardworking, innocent tudpees of their candy money, or whatever it is these little guys buy.”

Bacchi cackled. “Innocent?
Innocent?!
You’re such an idiot, Cole. Those two pulled the Tablex job.”

Cole looked sharply down at the tudpees. They looked sharply up at him.

“EEEEeeeEEEEeeeEEEEE!” said the tudpee, his vocal tone changing with each downward shake that Cole gave him. Cole was holding him upside down by his little ankles, money raining down on the pavement.

Bacchi and the other tudpee were trussed up against the wall.

“Heeblee
beeblee
!” said the trussed tudpee.

“Sheesh, what a mouth,” said Cole.

A few minutes later and Cole was practically skipping down the alley, his spirits buoyed by the sudden upswing in his fortunes.

“Heh heh heh!” he cackled, counting his money.

Then, abruptly,
“Erk
!” when one of Kenneth’s tentacles snagged him around the midsection and jerked him into another alley.

Then, “AAAAAaaaAAAAAaaaAAAAA!” as Kenneth shook him up and down by the ankles, exactly as Cole had done to the tudpees.

And that brought him to the present.

And in that present he was dangling in an alley and Kenneth’s hairy appendage was drawn fully back, and in about one second it would uncoil and strike and plunge through Cole’s eye socket into
his skull, filling it with eggs, except he wouldn’t even be allowed to die, he’d be a zombie, completely aware but unable to move, until Kenneth’s repulsive offspring hatched, and they’d eat his brain and come bursting out of his mouth and ears and nose, and for some reason just as the ovipositor started to come zipping at him like lightning Cole blurted, “I’m in love.”