The Stalker of Derth-X

By Richard Walter (Sniper)

The creature stood black and furious in its steel cage.

Its curved claws gripping the bars tightly, it's shackled hands straining uselessly to force them apart. It's bellowings had quietened now to a small roar, but its drugged red eyes glared with sullen rage and fury at the small crowd of men.

Drakan stood with the other Catchers, pouring strong ale down his thirsty throat, ashamed to see how his arm still shook and jolted from the effort of the capture.

"Go on, go on yer filthy bastard, struggle all you like. You'll not get those bars to bend for you, I guarantee it!" Wretch grinned as he helped himself to a second mug of ale.

The creature grinned back at him, showing gleaming rows of fangs.

"Look at them vampire's teeth of his! I'd like to knock them down his devils throat, I would." Muttered Stylez as he dabbed at his injuries with a dirty cloth.

"Its those mad claws I nervous of," Tyrel said with a shudder "Did you see what he did to Arran's arm?"

"Aye - the filthy rascal pulled it clean out of its socket!" Wretch growled. "Gave one huge pull and out it came. I've never heard such screaming in all my life!"

"He put up a good fight all right, damn him." Said Drakan, grudging admiration in his tone. "A double-shot of tranqs in him, outnumbered eight to one, and he still gave us a run for our money."

"But we got you in the end, didn't we, Devil?" Stylez sneered. He picked up a long steel prodder and rammed it viciously through the bars. The creature flinched at the blow. The sound of hissing filled the tent like snakes.

"Stylez - stop that nonsense now! I'll not have you baiting the creatures again, or its back to the cells with you!" Ordered Commissar Lerox sharply.

"Just making sure it knows we're the masters here, that's all," Said Stylez sulkily. "So it don't try none of them sly tricks on us."

He had not been half so brave out in the jungle, Drakan remembered. When the creature came flying out of the bushes in its terrifying charge. He had been the first to lose his nerve.

"The Devil - it's the Devil - Oh Emperor, save us - It's the Devil himself!" He had screamed, trying to run and curse the beast at the same time.

The resemblance was uncanny though. Even Commissar Lerox had been unnerved, shooting the tranquilliser way of its mark; as transfixed by the creature as everyone else. Its gleaming black body stood hunched and vicious, adorned in sleek carapace like a knight, the four arms that sprouted from its chest were muscled like a mans. It's wicked face was insect looking with purpled skin patterned with snake-skin markings of green and black. Truly an incarnation of evil.

Drakan felt none of the usual pity as he stared towards the captive. Just looking at it brought a superstitious shudder to his spine. There was something about this creature that invited cruelty, that made you want to jab it and torment it and rejoice in its helpless rage.

"Its because we're afraid of it," he though. "It's fear that makes us cruel."

"Lets drink up, lads. Then we'll get back to the base." Lerox said to his fellow men. "There's a load of hard work to be done if the Devils brethren come looking for us - I'll not have my entrails eaten for breakfast. Draken -" he said in a softer tone, "Stay here will you? Keep an eye out tonight. See nobody goes near the cage - I mean nobody. I'll not be running around late at night looking for the Devil himself just because someone was playing silly-beggars"

His eyes, as he said it, were on Stylez, who stood still with the prodder in his hand, sending surly looks towards the Devil from his bloodshot eyes.

"Yes, sir." Drakan said obediently, though his heart sank low at the though of spending a night with El Diablo himself.

The men filed out. Drakan seated himself on a stack of crates and listened glumly to the sound of his comrades departing into the distance. Soon, he couldn't hear them anymore, and there was only the howling wind and the roaring of Derth-X's great ocean, battering the cliffs.

The Devil watched from its cage at Drakan with a probing glare.

Drakan turned his eyes away from the beast uneasily, sternly fighting down his pity. This was the part of the Search and Capture that worried him most. The chase was always thrilling, the capture very satisfying. But he hated what came after: the sight of the terrified creatures cringing wild-eyed in their cages, their crying and struggling to get free - knowing they would never be free again, that they would spend the rest of their days in exile from their home worlds, on display in Zoo's, research labs - or worst. However, things were different with the Devil. There was no screaming, no jolting and shaking, none of the usual desperate attempts to escape. That scared Drakan more than anything.

This sentimental streak in himself bothered Drakan a lot. It wasn't good in a Search and Capture marine. A good marine couldn't afford to let himself get soppy over his catches or he'd never catch anything at all. Commissar Lerox told him that often enough.

A tired shiver of chains drew his eyes towards the Devil. It was seated now, squatting apelike on its hind feet, its powerful shoulders hunched, its brooding red glare fixed on him. Something about that stare brought shivers of uneasiness to Drakans spine. It was so ... alien. He imagined sly thoughts plotting evil plots, he had to fight himself to remind him it was only an animal, not the sinister demon it resembled. He got of his crates and walked slowly towards the creature.

"I'm not afraid of you," he whispered. He said it louder. "I'm not afraid of you, Devil!" He scowled.

It mocked him, mimicking his frown. It opened and closed its evil mouth, copying his mouth movements vacantly, like an ape might, without understanding.

Drakan felt a sudden rush of intense to pick up the prodder and beat seven shades of shit out of the creature, the way Stylez had; to watch the beast howl and writhe - and know that it was at his mercy.

Fighting the urge, Drakan turned away and went to light an oil lamp - for the tent was eerily dark. Tyrel came by, bringing supper - a plateful of stew and tubers, overcooked and vile to the taste. But Drakan cared not, too hungry to take any notice. As he reached for a canteen of water to slake his thirst, he heard the Devil hiss. It occurred to him the Devil may be thirsty - the tranquillisers always made them thirsty, and it had not drunk since its capture. But he hardened his thoughts, muttering; "Let it thirst. It will do no harm for the Devil to thirst."

Turning his back purposely, he walked outside.

Derth's dark skies deepened the still jungle. The sunken sea becked and tossed like a great blue dragon. A cold sea breeze swirled around Drakan's shoulders, lifting his black hair, making his jacket look like wings. He lifted his head to the skies.

The great red planet Pirrhus V was rising in the east. Immediately overhead, he could see Derth's sister planets, Zephax and Xantha, where the Search and Capture teams had done their hunting before coming to Derth. And somewhere beyond them, lost among the blazing mass of stars, was the beautiful planet Roltar - Drakans homeworld, how he longed to see it once more. Most of his life had been spent as a hunter, wandering between planets and the large Space Hulks.

Leaning further back, Drakan let his eyes scan through the glittering spread of stars: millions, billions of them in this galaxy alone! And beyond this galaxy, countless other galaxies, each one full of planets, stars , its satelitte planets and moons and unexplored planets. The idea of such immensity mad Drakan uneasy and strange. "Perhaps" he thought, "on one of those worlds right now, an alien team of Catchers is busy trapping humans; cooking them for their food and skinning them for their clothes and putting them on display for some strange alien gathering to stare at - maybe the Devil's brethren are just like us." The thought made Drakan almost vomit.

He went back into the tent. In the smoky light of the lamp, a terrifying figure loomed, cast huge and powerful on the tents canvas wall. Drakan span round. But it was only a shadow. The Devil remained as he left it, safely chained to its cage. He turned his back to it and moved about the tent uneasily, rearranging sacks to make his bed. And all that time he could feel the creature watching him, its evil glare fastened on him.

He lay down to sleep, leaving the oil-lamp burning - he would not have the Devil playing any tricks on him. But sleep did not come easily. The Devil was restless in its cage, whimpering and clawing. The wind blew harder and the tent flapped and strained like a devil-creature trying to break loose from the ground. Drakan lay tensely, listening to the sounds. Each time a chain clanked he would ready his gun nervously. Every spluttering of the lamp sounded to him like the Devils gloating hiss.

When he finally did drop off, his sleep was full of troubled dreams. The Devil was in all of them, with his wicked grin and cruel clawed hands and piercing stare. Sometimes, Drakan was his keeper. And sometimes he was free and Drakan was running - endlessly through the jungle. But whether he was the pursuer or the prey was never clear.

Sounds woke him: Aggressive hisses, a commotion of cursing, thumping and stomping. He sat up in pure terror. A figure loomed up to him. For one heart-stopping moment, he imagined it as the Devil himself. Then he saw it was human.

"Tha's right, tha's right - s'me, you evil bastard!" A hate filled voice muttered. "You remember me, don't ya? Stylez - your old pal Stylez."

He stood liquor-soaked and swaying in front of the Devils cage, his mattered hair on end, the stench of him filling the tent.

Drakan got to his feet and walked up to him. "Stylez," he said. "What in the Emperors name are you doing here? Go back to your room. Come, let me take you."

He tried to grasp the man's arm. But he was shaken off like a fly. Stylez seemed unaware of him, all his drunken rage was fixed on the caged creature before him.

"Get on yer feet when I speak to you, Devil! I said on yer f*ckin' feet when yer master speaks, yer ignorant bastard!" Roared the drunken Stylez, the Devil glared at him was evil malevolence.

He picked up the prodder and tried to strike the Devil through the bars. But he was too intoxicated to aim straight.

The Devil rumbled like uneasy thunder.

"Shut up!" Stylez howled. "I'll have no more of your mockery - you hear me, Devil? Oh - grin at me will yer! I'll teach you to grin! I'll hit you so f*ckin' hard you'll swallow those evil teeth of yours and be shitting them for weeks, I will! I've put up with your tricks and torments all I'm going too. Now its my turn!" Roared Stylez with fury.

In his drunken state, he seemed to believe he was talking to the real Devil. His eyes were as wild as a madman's. He clanged the prodder viscously against the cage bars, trying again to insert it, and again failing.

"Stylez - enough! You've had your fun, come now." Drakan said angrily, trying a second time to take his arm. But an unexpected blow sent him reeling backwards.

"Leave me - get outa my way!" Stylez roared in fury. He swung the prodder about wildly, almost knocking himself off balance, only just managing not to fall. "I will not be stopped - you hear me?" He muttered evilly. "I'll show that bastard who's the boss. I'll send him back to the hell he came from - tha's what I'll do!" He threw down the prodder and grabbed something else.

"Dance, Devil! Dance to this tune!" Stylez barked. "Lets see you dance now. I've danced to your tune often enough. Now you can dance to mine!"

He heaved the thing he held between the cage bars. There was a sound of shattering, a heavy smell of lamp fuel. Drakan screamed with fury as pitch darkness filled the tent. Stylez' spiteful laugh echoed eerily. A match-head scraped.

"Stylez - NO! - what the f*ck are you doing?! - DON'T!" Drakan cried.

He made a desperate lunge but was too late. There was a dull sound of igniting. Flame flared through the Devils cage, engulfing the creature in waves of hungry fire. The Devil roared terribly, straining helplessly against its chains, beating its burning feet against the cage door.

Stylez laughed, slapping his knees and dancing in drunken glee.

"Burn yer bastard, Burn! Reminds you of hell does it?"

Drakan picked up the steel prodder and felled Stylez with one furious blow. He ran to the Devils cage despairingly, raced away again to hunt for his keys and torch. There was no time for thought or caution. With a trembling hand he unlocked the cage door, tore of his jacket and used it to beat down the small, hot pyre of flames. They died reluctantly, giving of black, acrid clouds of smoke. Eyes streaming, Drakan turned to face the Devil.

To be continued..........

Writers Comment:

OK, so its pretty easy to guess what the caught creature is. And I expect someone will say the immortal phrase "But a Genestealer looks nothing like the devil." In response I say "Maybe not to us, but to Drakan and the rest of the Roltarn's it does." You see, they've only encountered one 'stealer before - being right in the middle of a cluster of hardcore worlds they've never been invaded, they live in a peacful existance. Roltar is a zoological world, with many research labs and zoo's - Roltar specialises in catching aliens, you name it they've got it - naked squats and all the rest. One genestealer was caught many centuries ago and ended up in the zoo, being a hard bastard it escaped and caused untold ammounts of damage and death. Eventually it was killed, but at a great loss to the Roltarn's. The 'stealer recieved a fearsome reputation and was refered to as the devil, because he was so evil and bad. This is the first time Drakan and the rest of the catchers had seen the devil in the flesh, so they beleive him to be the only kind of its sort - back from the dead. Understand that, and you are truly great.