Page 42 of Alien in the Depths
Zaraq watched helplessly as Vexis took Arccoo’s blaster and smirked.
“Nice toy,” he said, turning the gun over in his hands. “I’ll be taking this in exchange for the zapfa gun you stole. I think that’s a fair deal. Don’t you?”
Again, Vexis’s cronies boosted their boss’s ego with a snigger. Zaraq remembered what that was like, pretending every word Slikrim said was holy scripture just so he wouldn’t get killed. It was a debased life, and despite the position he found himself in now, he was glad he answered only to himself now.
Vexis lay the weapon on the sideboard that ran the length of the hallway and turned his attention to the pack.
“But this is what you really owe me.” He snatched the bag from Weedy’s hand, tearing open the zipper and peering inside. His black eyes widened at what he saw.
Pulling out the sealed bag that still contained the murder weapon, Vexis smiled cruelly.
“You know, I haven’t used this since I got rid of Ryka,” Vexis revealed. The look in his eyes when he said it made Zaraq clench his jaw. It almost seemed as if Vexis was remembering the murder with fondness.
Zaraq, on the other hand, remembered it very, very differently. He remembered the silence in Ryka’s house the day he’d gone to visit. He remembered the stack of business papers he’d been holding proudly—everything they needed to start their own venture and free themselves from Slik’s reign of terror. He remembered calling out his friend’s name, wandering through each room until finally, he saw a denim-clad leg sticking out into the hallway.
He remembered running, the papers falling and scattering like leaves as his footsteps fell heavily, and then the thud as his knees struck the floor beside Ryka’s body.
And most of all, he remembered the wound—a gaping black hole in his friend’s chest, its edges singed and cauterized. He wished he remembered Ryka’s face, but when he tried to picture it in his mind, all he saw was the black hole where his friend’s heart should have been.
Anger, grief, and a grave sense of injustice swelled in Zaraq, but Vexis was smiling. He’d dropped the pack to the floor and was now inspecting the sigma blaster thoughtfully through the clear airlock bag.
“If you’ve never shot a sigma blaster, you don’t know what true power is,” Vexis mused, his black-hole eyes flickering up to meet Zaraq’s again. “I think you should have that chance.”
The words puzzled Zaraq for a second, and even Joran and Weedy appeared perplexed at Vexis’s words.
“If you’re the target, then sure,” Zaraq spat, his skin prickling with the rage that bubbled just below the surface.
Vexis let out a short, ugly laugh. “Not exactly what I had in mind.”
The Rikuan took a step forward, shortening the space between them. “See, nobody fucks with me and gets away with it. And I learned a thing or two from Slik. If you really want to get back at someone, you take away the thing they love the most. And then, you frame them for it.”
As the meaning of these words dawned on Zaraq, he was overcome with the urge to beat Vexis to a pulp, and he started forward. The sigma blaster in the Rikuan’s hands, the presence of the guards, the threat to his own life—these all meant nothing in the face of Sofia’s safety.
Within seconds though, Joran had him by the arms, his hands fastened painfully behind his back.
“You didn’t really think I was going to let either of you go. Did you?” As he spoke, Vexis’s lip curled up into a cruel smile. “Think about it. I have you, I have the girl, and I have the weapon. You handed me everything I needed to get rid of you for good.”
As Vexis spoke, Zaraq tried to formulate a plan. He tried to figure out how to stop Vexis from taking everything from him. The hallway was wide, but with Vexis ahead of him and Joran and Weedy behind him, Zaraq had nowhere to run.
Not only that, but he was without a weapon. Even if he could escape unscathed, he had no idea where Sofia was being held. He’d be dead before he could check the first door.
In his peripheral vision, he could see the darkened arched doorway leading into the living room. Maybe if he could break free from Joran’s grip, he could dash into the living room and snatch a weapon from the black gun cabinet—if it was even still open.
Even if itwasopen, the odds of getting there before Vexis and the guards opened fire were minimal. And even if he did, he’d still be one against three, and there was nowhere to take cover. Once again, he’d be dead long before he got to Sofia.
His only hope was Arccoo who, he assumed, was still waiting in the car for him. But the same rules applied—Arccoo would bewalking into a death trap, and as much as he needed the help, part of him hoped his friend wouldn't come to the rescue.
No matter which way he looked at it, he couldn’t think of any way he’d get out of there alive, let alone rescue Sofia.
“So, here’s what I’m thinking,” Vexis continued, still stroking the bagged sigma blaster. “We wheel out your little whore, you say your last goodbyes, and then you get the honor of doing to her what I did to Ryka.”
“What the hell makes you think I’d do that?” Zaraq spat, straining toward Vexis even though it sent pain shooting through his restrained arms. “I’d sooner die.”
Vexis grinned again, but hatred shone in his eyes as he stared at Zaraq, almost eye-to-eye. “Where’s the fun in that?”
“You’re deranged!” Zaraq shouted, the anger coursing through him.
“No, I’m just very good at what I do. And don’t act like you’re innocent, either. You’re the one who used to go around shaking down Slik’s debtors and smashing kneecaps. At least I know what I am.”