The man took a seat in the tiny swivel chair before the Supremident's desk, trying vainly to look relaxed. He failed. 'Thank you, sir. May I say...'
Egost cut him off. 'It's a pleasure etcetera, etcetera...yes, yes, Wells. I'm at the end of my shift, you don't need to put on the formalities...and anyway, I'm in no mood to tolerate this bureaucratic bungling I have to sit through all day.'
Wells frowned. 'What do you mean, sir?'
Egost flicked through the papers on the clip board and read from them a few, very low sounding figures. 'There's got to have been a drafting error here. Our quota's aren't this low surely? We're at least fifty eight percent down on last months shipments...'
Wells coughed. 'Well, sir, I'm afraid the figures are correct and right up to date. They include this morning's cargo too.'
Egost was suddenly stern. 'What's wrong with you, Wells? I lay on two free pleasure cruises around the system per month, can't you pack 'em?'
'The fact is, Supremident we can't give away the tickets to anyone anymore. I even stopped so low as to attempt to spread them amongst the work force...'
'You did what?!' blustered Egost anxiously, almost chocking with astonishment.
'There's no unemployed, needy or retrograde left on Homeworld who'd go on a free cruise that has a ninety-nine percent chance of having a fatal accident on the return journey. I'm surprised nobody has tried to shut our little tours down before now.'
Wells leaned forward, whispering urgently at the Supremident's face. 'Many of your staff want to blow this whole thing into the open; and many in the Parlcon are ready to unite in a coalition to overthrow the present administration. They don't care about your precious percentage or the fact that you're being hailed by Homeworld as the "feeder of the hungry".'
Viciously, Egost spat the words out. 'But my name or company has never been implicated with the tours. It's not my head on the block. All I do is bring in the food shipments from Vrus...but the masses and the Parlcon don't know that it comes form there. they think it comes from one of the cattle farms on the Eastern plain..only you, me and three on your staff know it's the butchered remains of the passengers on my free tours - after those damn Werewolf colonists have killed for them for us. My hands are clean.'
As if to emphasise the last sentence, Egost washed his hands in a small sink behind his desk. 'If anyone talks or thinks of talking, send them on a little spying mission to Vrus...just tell them it's a routine check on the efficiency of production there. That should satisfy their administrative ego.' He waved his hands dismissively. 'That'll be all!'
Wells rose and as he opened the door to leave he added, 'The cruiser should be nearly at Vrus now...'
As he tidied the papers away on his glass desk, Egost, having said his piece, shook his head solemnly. 'Those poor devils.'
'Must be terrible for the families they've left behind, sir, especially if they buy your meat.' Wells sniffed and pretended to wipe a tear from his eye.
'Not the passengers, those feeble colonists. What an existence. I wonder what it's really like for them? I do.' Little did Egost know, but he would eventually discover the answer.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
t hit them like a tidal wave, which in fact was what it was akin to. The dragging sensation caught them all unaware and Captain Devane was left with one hundred very frightened, panicking passengers on his hands as he fought for control of his Astral grade cruiser.
One thing was certain though, all aboard felt the crash landing on what was supposed to be a barren desolate asteroid which unusually had a breathable atmosphere.
As seats erupted and split from the floor of the passenger sections, bewildered and disorieonated passengers were trapped in a coffin thay had so gladly accepted seats upon a few weeks earlier. Through the entanglement of jagged metal girders, twisted and crumpled, blood, saliva and vomit and mingled attracting those that could sense these things. Most of the passengers has expected to be killed in the crash, some were believing that amidst the moans, anguished cries and feeble attempts to free themselves they were going to be left here to die a lingering death in utter torment.
None had expected they were to end up as a wild animal's dinner. But as vicious claws scrabbled their way into the stricken cruiser and gnashing jaws snapped, severing veins, tendons and sinew and even snapping bones; some realised that death can come in varied forms when you least expect it and when you don't expect it to be a happy release...they, were the lucky ones.
Devane had been bodily thrown through the plastic-rein-forced windshield of the cruiser. Bruised, lacerated and weakened he painfully dragged himself to his feet and gazed pitifully at the wreckage of is pride and joy. Then when the howling began, started limping pathetically across the moorland in a hope of salvation. There was to be little.
Suddenly, something 'thudded' onto his back and floored him. He felt his scalp burning, his hair being wrenched savagely from his skin, felt his bones snap and heard them crunch as needle like pains shot through his head he felt no more. His brain had gone. He was quite dead. Somehow he was to be in good company.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
cursed pt3 page2
