Sooner Dead (Gamma World) - Mel Odom [34]
Although the expedition guide looked exotic in current company, Hella knew he wasn’t. Generations earlier, or maybe only a short time after the collider went boom, Trazall’s species had been locusts or something like them. An event had happened—possibly due to the collider—and they’d become, or perhaps on their original world they’d always been, humanoid.
Trazall’s hard exoskeleton was moss green on his head and shoulders and darker green on his abdomen. The two bottom limbs of his six had thickened and gotten stronger, turning into his primary means of locomotion. His middle two limbs ended in grippers that could double as hands without the opposable thumbs, or they could be used as another set of feet if he was in a hurry or wanted to cling to a rough surface.
The expressionless face gave nothing away, but there was a telltale flicker in the multifaceted eyes, and his antennae curled for just a moment. He wore clothing but there was no need because nothing about his naked body was immodest. Hella hadn’t known he was a male of his species without being told. He chose tailored pants and a shirt, an obscene imitation of humanity because he looked so alien. But looking at him, no one would forget that he had human-level intelligence.
When the table fell silent, and Pardot looked over Trazall’s shoulder at Stampede, Trazall rolled his head around in a way a creature with vertebrae couldn’t have.
“Ah, Stampede.” Trazall’s voice had an irritating habit of buzzing on the consonants and created an undercurrent of noise in his speech. “We were just talking about you.” He gestured to a chair, and one of his men quickly left it. “Perhaps you’d like to sit down.”
“I’ll stand.” Stampede remained loose and ready. “It’s easier to squash a cockroach as it scurries away when you’re standing.”
Trazall buzzed and Hella knew from past meetings that the insectoid was laughing. “Have I done anything to offend you?”
“Depends on whether or not you’ve poached my client, roach. Actually, you’ve already offended me by trying.”
A small man seated to Trazall’s right opened his mouth and breathed out a small jet of flame. He was of medium height, had a shaved head, and was covered in dragon tattoos.
Trazall put his hand on the man’s shoulder as if restraining him. “Be careful. You know how offended Silence gets if he feels my honor is being impugned.”
“Really?” Stampede’s right leg trembled slightly, and a tremor ran through the floor as he manifested his seismic power. “How does he feel about earthquakes?”
The man on Trazall’s left smirked. He wore jeweled rings on all his fingers and plucked at a carefully trimmed goatee. His hair and the beard were tinted green. “How do you think you’d feel about suddenly weighing so much, your knees snap?”
Stampede lifted his massive handgun in an eye blink and had it trained on the man’s forehead. “Twitch funny, and you’re going to be breathing out of your forehead.” He turned his attention to Trazall. “Then I’m going to blow your head off, roach. Or maybe I’ll blow your head off and let sunlight in through Greenie’s skull.”
Trazall carefully put his four hands on the table. “Nobody moves until I say you can move.” He spoke calmly and harshly.
None of his crew moved even to acknowledge the command.
“Are you backing him, Faust?” Trazall glanced at the gorilloid.
“On this?” Faust nodded. “Yeah. One of the rules at Blossom Heat is that there’s no theft. From anybody. And especially not from one of my friends.”
“This?” The insectoid almost sounded surprised. “This is nothing. Just a casual conversation.”
“He’s lying.” Colleen’s voice cut through the tension in the room. “This—thing—”
“Dear lady, you wound me.”
“—has been telling Dr. Pardot that he could guide us more safely than you can.” Colleen didn’t sound entirely together,