Day of the Dogs Read online

  Johnny got up from his chair. "By the way," he said, "Ray/Bel only counts as one."

  "As one what?" said Asdoel Zo.

  "One member of the posse, stupid," said HMK. She had a thoughtful frown on her face. She looked up and smiled at Johnny. She had a dazzling smile. "You're right, Johnny. Ray/Bel or Bel/Ray, or whatever we call him/her basically constitutes a single, mutually dependent organism. Therefore there are only seven of us." She chuckled. "All right. Excellent." Astonishingly, she seemed mollified.

  Granny Haxer proved amenable to the new arrangement and, thanks to the ministrations of Asdoel Zo's medical 'bots, she was on her feet and able to join the rest of the posse on their visit to the Weapon Shops of Usher (formerly Isher) Ltd.

  The weapon shops were located in a low, orbital mall that was spinning around Wexler VII. The mall was a space station devoted to shopping, with the usual mix of stores and restaurants, though the weapons shops had become so successful that they now occupied nearly half of the entire mall area. But there was a hierarchy among the weapons shops, starting with low-rent gun dealers on the outermost hub of the vast rotating space station, where a redneck might go to pick up his Saturday night special, and progressing through increasingly posh establishments as the shoppers made their way inwards through the spiral access tunnels of the mall until the central cluster of retail premises was reached. Here, at the hub of the space station, the big yachts and cruisers docked. This was where the rich space travellers disembarked and this was where the most high-end weapons shops plied their trade.

  Asdoel Zo took his posse to the most elite weapons shop of all, Quinn Moseby Arms, and had the entire place closed down to normal customers so it could tend to Johnny and his companions. Mr Moseby himself served them, getting them kitted out for their mission. The Moseby shop boasted the finest examples of weaponry in the known universe. The hard-bitten bounty hunters were like kids in a candy store - or a lethal toy shop. "Look at this!" whooped Granny Haxer, lifting a Velvett vibrosaw - a device no larger than a cigarette lighter but which, when activated, extruded a long, flat blade of vibrating energy which could cut through almost anything - or anyone. She clutched the vibrosaw in her right hand, which was still swathed with a flesh-coloured dressing, the last vestige of her wounded forearm, which had been so artfully repaired. "You could do a lot of damage with this little beauty. Just the thing for a lady's purse."

  Hari Mata Karma and Stella Dysh seemed to agree. All three women selected vibrosaws - in different colours and styles, of course, and Asdoel Zo was there to pay for them without complaint. When the other Strontium Dogs realised that all this fine weaponry was on the house, they got caught up in a frenzied orgy of spending. Slim Drago insisted on getting into the spirit of their old west style adventure and selected a brace of retro-looking blasters with silver plating, carved ivory handles and twin holsters, on a leather belt embossed with turquoise beads. Ray and Bel raced through the shop, picking weapons up and putting them down. "Now that I know I can have anything..." said Ray, the brother.

  His sister, Bel, completed his thought, "I can't think of what I want..."

  "Why don't you just buy everything?" said Asdoel Zo. So they did.

  Johnny Alpha, however, remained unmoved, sticking with his own austere collection of tried and tested weaponry, including the Westinghouse variable cartridge blaster he favoured, contenting himself with replenishing his supply of ammunition and choosing some sophisticated explosive devices. Middenface was swept up in the excitement at first, but soon lost interest. Once he acquired enough weaponry to fit in a small pack, he stopped, reasoning that there was no point in having more equipment than he could carry. Who knew what hardships they would face in their pursuit of Preacher Tarkettle? He didn't want to lumber himself with any unnecessary burdens.

  Middenface left the others happily browsing in the weapons shop, with Johnny supervising and occasionally vetoing their more fanciful choices and Asdoel Zo uncomplainingly paying for everything. Walking on his own through the mall, Middenface felt a strange sense of excitement and freedom. The weapons shop had been all right in its own way, but this was what he really wanted to be doing. Strolling, on his own, with no particular destination, savouring the excitement and anticipation and fear that always came on the eve of a long and dangerous hunt.

  Asdoel Zo had promised a final briefing, on the starship after everyone had finished in the shops. So Middenface made sure his wanderings took him steadily in the direction of the docking bay and the starship. He had no intention of missing a vital briefing. But there should be a little time yet. For sightseeing. And at the moment the sight Middenface was seeing was the rhythmic tightening and sway of a magnificent backside. The backside was clad in tight, red rubber and belonged to a tall voluptuous woman who was swaying along a walkway just ahead of Middenface, where she had been for some time. She was wearing a black hat like a sombrero.

  The sombrero woman had been ahead of him for some time because Middenface was deliberately following her, enjoying the view. Having savoured her hindquarters fully, he then intended to saunter past her and glance back casually, steal a look at her face and cleavage, and to determine whether they lived up to the promise of those firm, swaying buttocks and shapely legs. After all, a face could so often disappoint. Take his own, for example.

  But before Middenface could execute this manoeuvre, the woman suddenly cut off to the right and entered a palatially posh jewellers. Ah well, thought Middenface, in the interests of scientific enquiry... He followed her into the shop.

  The shop was a bewildering matrix of velvety shadow and isolated shafts of light, illuminating small high tables on which choice examples of the jewel makers' craft were displayed. Here and there, just to confuse matters, were clusters of mirrors, which reflected the isolated spotlights and the velvet blackness, multiplying it into confusion.

  Middenface spotted the sombrero woman, bending over an illuminated display of rubies on a white velvet cushion. He wasn't yet at an angle where he could see her face, which was bent attentively to the gleaming gemstones, but he could at least glimpse her hair, which up to now had been concealed under the broad hat she was wearing. And her hair was striking - boldly striped in black and white, like a zebra.

  At just that moment, the woman glanced up at Middenface, as if she sensed she was being watched. Their eyes locked for an instant, and as he stared at her, Middenface had the odd feeling that he knew the woman from somewhere. Then the woman looked abruptly away, spun on her heel, and walked swiftly off. She seemed annoyed at Middenface's attention. All he could see of her was the broad sombrero swaying above those memorable buttocks, and her right elbow jutting out, as if she was speaking on a phone. Another moment and she had vanished into shadows at the rear of the large store.

  Middenface was left standing alone and feeling a little foolish. It was embarrassing being spotted watching the woman, as though he was some kind of stalker. He shrugged and started off in the direction of the entrance. Never mind. He just wished he could remember where he had seen her before...

  He was just nearing the exit when he heard a soft footfall behind him, a swish of motion in the air at the back of his head and an oddly intimate cracking sound. The next thing he knew, his knees were folding under him, pain was flooding through his skull and the black ceiling of the store seemed to be descending to engulf him.

  When he came back to consciousness, Asdoel Zo was standing over him. "What the hell happened to you? I didn't pay you to get into a fight in a jewellery store."

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  LANDFALL

  Charlie Yuletide marched across the desert, his saddle across one shoulder and his banjo across the other. His boots crackled on the dry ground and then began to make a tapping sound as each footfall touched rock. The nature of the terrain was changing. The desert rose into foothills, then narrowed into the shadowed throat of a rocky canyon. Charlie Yuletide marched into the opening. It was a narrow, meandering cleft between two high
shoulders of rock. At the far end was a third wall of rock, turning the canyon into a dead end.

  There was an opening, perhaps once a natural cave mouth, but extended and elaborated by man. Into the dark opening ran the twin rusty steel rods of a small gauge railway. Beside the railway were the tumbled hulks of the ore cars, which had once rolled along the rails into the mouth of the mine. Besides the rusting rail and ore cars, the canyon was filled with dumped rock, the odd dead tree and a large metal trough full of water, fed from an underground spring.

  Standing drinking noisily from the verdigrised trough was a beautiful palomino pony. Charlie Yuletide stood and stared at the horse. "Hey, hey, hey. What do you know about that?" he said in cracked voice parched by the long miles he'd walked through the desert. He set the saddle down on the ground and his banjo carefully beside it. From one of his saddle bags he drew a large coil of rope.

  Charlie Yuletide hefted the rope and looked at the horse. The horse finished drinking, lifted its large, dripping muzzle from the trough and looked back at him with big, intelligent eyes. Charlie Yuletide considered those eyes for a moment, then set the coil of rope down on the horn of his saddle.

  He approached the horse with his hands empty, held out in front of him. The horse watched the man as he walked towards it, closer and closer. The horse's tail flicked nervously and water dripped from its mouth, but other than that the palomino was utterly motionless. Charlie Yuletide closed in on the horse. He was close enough now to smell its hot, sweet breath and, for its part, the horse sniffed at him with its big nostrils. Charlie Yuletide rolled up the sleeves on his torn shirt and held his wrist up to the horse.

  The horse promptly reached down and began to lick the man's wrist. "You like the salt, don't you boy?" said Charlie, patting the horse. After a few minutes stroking the horse, he returned to his saddle and took a bridle out of the saddle bags. The horse didn't resist as he slipped the bridle on. "Looks like I got myself a new steed," said Charlie, smiling.

  He tethered the horse to one of the dead trees, then sat down in the shade nearby with his banjo in his lap. The horse stirred and snorted as Charlie Yuletide began to sing.

  "Preacher Tarkettle has gone into hiding. But Johnny and the posse are coming a-riding..."

  Asdoel Zo and the posse were aboard his U-class starship, the Charles Neider. The billionaire stared at the Strontium Dogs who were assembled before him. Zo was standing in the white space of the launch chamber, with a variety of lifeboats, drop ships and shuttles racked in their dimly lit docking bays behind him. His expression was serious.

  "Friends," he said, "I'm sure you're sick to death of hearing about how dangerous I believe your prey, Preacher Tarkettle, to be. But believe me, ladies and gentlemen, I cannot overstress this simple fact. Tarkettle is a diabolical fiend of the utmost ruthlessness and resource. It would be far better if you didn't even think of him as your prey. Such a term is too suggestive of an innate advantage on your part."

  Middenface heard Bel suppressing a contrived yawn behind him, and her brother Ray snickered appreciatively. HMK also emitted a low chuckle. "When is this chump ever going to stop talking?" she murmured.

  "If you think of yourselves as the hunters and Tarkettle as prey then you run the risk of overconfidence," said Zo. "You might slip into the trap of believing that your victory is inevitable, that your advantage is supreme. This is not the case. Tarkettle is a formidable foe, the most adroit of adversaries. Please, my friends, think of him in that light and no other. If you underestimate him, that will be your undoing."

  In the front rank of Strontium Dogs, Johnny Alpha spoke up. "I reckon we didn't get this far in our careers by underestimating our opponents."

  Zo smiled grimly. "Perhaps not, Johnny, but I don't think that even in your eventful career you've ever come up against anyone quite like Tarkettle. The man is a demon in human form. He took my loved ones away from me..." Zo's voice faltered.

  "I hope he's not going to start snivelling about his dead family again," whispered Hari Mata Karma and Middenface felt himself flush with anger. How could the wee woman be so callous? The poor bastard had lost everyone he loved.

  Asdoel Zo took a deep, tremulous breath and continued speaking, his voice harsh and low but under control. "He killed my beloved children, Lorna and Jodi..."

  "Oh no, here we go," sighed HMK. Middenface shot her a furious glance and took a step sideways, distancing himself from her. He couldn't believe how cold and heartless the woman was.

  "And my dearest wife Kathleen," continued Asdoel Zo. Middenface heard HMK snort derisively. What was her problem? But under his irritation he felt something else, an odd sense of urgency. This disquieting feeling was accompanied by a stirring of half-formed memories. It was as if there was something that he had to remember, that it was vitally important for him to remember, but he couldn't quite capture it in his mind.

  Middenface put a hand to his lumpy skull and felt the medical patch which he was still wearing after the attack on him in the jewellery store two days earlier. Middenface tried to think clearly. Something Asdoel Zo had said was significant. It triggered a chain of memory that remained tantalisingly inconclusive. Middenface massaged his skull. His recent head injury didn't help.

  Asdoel Zo was still talking. "Although you may be seven (or eight, depending on how you count the twins) of the deadliest bounty hunters who ever existed, you may still prove be no match for Preacher Tarkettle. I say this, not to sow the seeds of fear, or to undermine your confidence. Quite the opposite. I merely wish to prevent any dangerous overconfidence that might lead you to your doom."

  Hari Mata Karma moved close beside Middenface again. She leaned over to him and whispered, "This is a cheery little pep talk, isn't it?" Middenface ignored her.

  "Friends," said Asdoel Zo. "We are now in orbit around Santo Segrelle, the desert world where Preacher Tarkettle lurks." He took his wafer-thin, gold phone out of his pocket and pressed a button on it. A spherical hologram appeared in the air behind him, a shimmering image of Santo Segrelle. The planet was a rust coloured sphere, streaked with bands of deeper red and pale blue. "This is a desert planet, and indeed a deserted one. There is no indigenous population of intelligent life forms. Tarkettle is alone on this world, a situation which suits him just fine. He regards this planet as his personal fortress and he has tailored it to suit to his purposes."

  "So now he's dug in like a tick," said Johnny Alpha.

  "Correct."

  "But I thought you said Tarkettle hated all kinds of modern technology."

  "Correct."

  "Then why do you think he's such a danger to us, dug in or not?"

  Asdoel Zo shook his head in exasperation. "It's true, Tarkettle is a Luddite. But this doesn't mean he doesn't possess killing power. He owns an extensive collection of vintage firearms. And even with no weapon deadlier than a Winchester and no explosive more powerful than dynamite, he is the most dangerous of adversaries. Now, if there are no further questions, I wish you all good luck and pray that you return from your mission swiftly and safely."

  "At last," sighed Hari Mata Karma, in a voice that was far too audible for Middenface's liking.

  "You will be landing on Santo Segrelle in two separate drop ships," said Asdoel Zo. "One for the posse members and one for your weapons."

  "Why?" said Johnny.

  "Because it's too dangerous to have you travel with all that lethal equipment in the same ship. If there's a malfunction or a hard landing or, God forbid, Tarkettle manages to attack you in some fashion, it could kill you all. Now, if there really are no other questions, I suggest you get ready, ladies and gentlemen." Asdoel Zo pressed a button on his phone and the hologram of the planet rippled and vanished. He turned and left the docking bay, exiting through a whispering fan of doors. The cluster of Strontium Dogs broke up, talking and laughing, simmering with energy and repressed excitement. Only Middenface remained standing where he was, staring at the point in mid-air where the image of the planet had hovere
d a moment earlier. There was something about the way the hologram had flickered as it disappeared... The sight had triggered the same frustratingly incomplete cascade of memories that had bothered him earlier.

  Middenface had the uneasy feeling that there was something he must remember. He tried to concentrate as, all around him, the others chattered.

  "I wonder how long it will take us to find Tarkettle?" said Slim Drago. "Do you think we'll have enough food?"

  "I say we'll get him within twelve hours," said Ray.

  "Six hours," said Bel.

  "Want to make a wager?"

  "Yes." The brother and sister shook hands.

  "When I get hold of this Tarkettle fella, I'm going to hang him up by a very personal piece of his anatomy over a slow fire," said Granny Haxer.

  "I really like your simile," said HMK, going up to Johnny Alpha.

  "My what?" said Johnny.

  "'Dug in like a tick'," said HMK, smiling. "It was just delightful. You're really getting into the spirit of things with your western, folksy phraseology."

  Johnny Alpha just looked at her and shook his head. "Don't you take anything seriously?" he said.

  The smile faded from HMK's face. "As a matter of fact I do, partner. Would you like to know what I take seriously?"

  "Sure," said Johnny, regarding her coolly.

  "What I take seriously is Middenface getting clobbered by some unknown assailant," she said.

  "I take it quite seriously myself," said Middenface, rubbing the medical pad on his head.

  "Who did it?" said HMK. "And why?"

  Johnny nodded. "I've been wondering that myself. It wasn't a robbery, because they didn't take anything."

  "Right. There's something fishy about it," said HMK. "And here's another fishy thing. Asdoel Zo telling us-"

  "Not to take our weapons in the drop ship," said Johnny.

  "Right!" exclaimed HMK. "What the hell is all that about?"