Bounty Hunter 1: The Bounty Hunter's Revenge by Joseph Anderson Page B

could do. The first
time I took the suit off I was greeted to the sores and rashes I had developed
from keeping it on for far too long. I boiled water and washed myself each part
at a time with tiny bits of soap that had been with the medical supplies.
    Unable to remove the armor from my right
leg, I had to rinse the inside of it out with water. Cass would then let it
slowly drain away using the same mechanisms that would remove my sweat after a
battle. It wasn’t an ideal way of cleaning the leg, but was better than
nothing.
    I took to wearing standard clothes again
as much as possible, but I almost always kept the suit’s helmet on, with the
faceplate open. It was the only way for Cass to communicate with me. She was
the only person I had to talk to.
    Over the second year I was able to
repair part of the solar array on the top of the base. I had cleared away
almost all of the rubble of the collapsed ruin. I had buried what had been left
of the thieves after months of the animals feeding on them. It wasn’t much, but
I felt compelled to do it. I moved the rubble over onto the same area, as if to
mark them in a protective layer over where they were put to rest. As consumed
with anger as I was toward Adam, I still tried to maintain some part of my
prior dignity.
    The repaired array didn’t generate
enough power for the entire base, but I only used one room. It was enough to
keep the lights on when I needed them, and enough to power the water filtration
system when I finally cleared my way into it. At first I was terrified that the
drilled hole would be another entrance for the crawlers to get into. None ever
came, and after months of being paranoid and keeping the room sealed when I
wasn’t collecting water, I finally resigned myself to the idea that nothing was
coming to get me. I left the room open.
    I began to hunt during the nights. I
learned that the rat creatures usually emerged several hours before the
crawlers and, combined with the new water source, I was able to feed myself
indefinitely off the planet. The crawler’s shrieks never ceased to unsettle me,
and I always sealed off the basement area with rows of stacked crates after
each rat kill. I never took any chances about letting them down the stairs.
    At the end of the third year I had
stopped shaving. At first it was a matter of maintaining some visible
connection to my former self. My body had been battered and, even though it
recovered, I still felt the scars of being stranded. I used the smaller shards
of the broken blade from the suit’s arm as a razor, and kept my hair short.
Into my fourth year I had to admit to myself that I no longer saw the point in
doing it and, as if that resignation was what the universe was waiting for, the
ship arrived the very next week.
     
     
    * * *
     
     
    The roar of the ship woke me up
immediately. We had made some tentative plans for this event over the years,but in those first moments I relied on my
instincts. I sprang from the makeshift bed I had constructed out of broken down
cargo containers and spare clothes. Cass’s helmet, which I only took off for
sleeping, was promptly put on. She starting spewing ideas at me while I slid on
the rest of the armor, piece by piece.
    “A small ship, from what I can gather
from the vibrations caused by the engine. No way to tell how many people are on
it. I wish we had managed to get some sort of surveillance working. Do you
remember what we agreed on?”
    “Yes,” I answered. “No kills unless
there’s an opportunity to do so without being noticed. Listen first. They might
be friendly.”
    “And?” she prompted.
    “And no gunshots until I’ve made sure
the ship can’t take off and leave us all fighting. Winning a battle won’t mean
anything if the pilot just leaves.”
    I had the suit’s legs, torso, and left
arm when I heard the noise from down the hall of the base. I couldn’t risk
spending any more time with the final arm of the suit and started moving.