A Fistful of Strontium Read online

  STRONTIUM DOG

  A FISTFUL OF STRONTIUM

  Johnny clicked off the time drogue and Slug's head exploded again. Johnny then clicked the drogue back on and watched with the others as Slug's head reformed once again. Slug groaned at this second resurrection, holding his head as if to stop it from bursting apart again.

  "Let me rest in peace," he complained.

  "Just as soon as you tell me what I need to know," said Johnny. "We're looking for your old leader."

  "Kit?" said Slug in surprise.

  Johnny made to click off the time drogue again. "Wait, wait," said Slug quickly. "I hear things, you know. I listen out for news. Things have been sweet since I took over the gang. I don't um, didn't want Kit coming back to muscle in on my rackets. Anyway, word is, since he broke out he's headed for Miltonia, and gonna get him some revenge on old Moosehead."

  "Much obliged," said Johnny, and clicked off the drogue for the last time. Slug's head exploded almost gratefully.

  STRONTIUM DOG

  #1: BAD TIMING - Rebecca Levene

  #2: PROPHET MARGIN - Simon Spurrier

  #3: RUTHLESS - Jonathan Clements

  #4: DAY OF THE DOGS - Andrew Cartmel

  #5: A FISTFUL OF STRONTIUM - Jaspre Bark and Steve Lyons

  DURHAM RED

  -Peter J Evans-

  #1: THE UNQUIET GRAVE

  #2: THE OMEGA SOLUTION

  #3: THE ENCODED HEART

  #4: MANTICORE REBORN

  #5: BLACK DAWN

  MORE 2000 AD ACTION

  THE ABC WARRIORS

  #1: THE MEDUSA WAR - Pat Mills & Alan Mitchell

  #2: RAGE AGAINST THE MACHINES - Mike Wild

  ROGUE TROOPER

  #1: CRUCIBLE - Gordon Rennie

  JUDGE DREDD FROM 2000 AD BOOKS

  #1: DREDD VS DEATH

  Gordon Rennie

  #2: BAD MOON RISING

  David Bishop

  #3: BLACK ATLANTIC

  Simon Jowett & Peter J Evans

  #4: ECLIPSE

  James Swallow

  #5: KINGDOM OF THE BLIND

  David Bishop

  #6: THE FINAL CUT

  Matthew Smith

  #7: SWINE FEVER

  Andrew Cartmel

  #8: WHITEOUT

  James Swallow

  #9: PSYKOGEDDON

  Dave Stone

  JUDGE ANDERSON

  #1: FEAR THE DARKNESS - Mitchel Scanlon

  #2: RED SHADOWS - Mitchel Scanlon

  #3: SINS OF THE FATHER - Mitchel Scanlon

  CABALLISTICS, INC

  -Mike Wild-

  #1: HELL ON EARTH

  #2: BETTER THE DEVIL

  FIENDS OF THE EASTERN FRONT - David Bishop

  #1: OPERATION VAMPYR

  #2: THE BLOOD RED ARMY

  #3: TWILIGHT OF THE DEAD

  For Peter O'Donnell, master storyteller.

  Strontium Dog and Middenface McNulty created by Alan Grant, John Wagner and Carlos Ezquerra.

  A 2000 AD Publication

  www.abaddonbooks.com

  www.2000adonline.com

  1098 7 65 4321

  Cover illustration by Philip Sibbering.

  Copyright © 2005 Rebellion A/S. All rights reserved.

  All 2000 AD characters and logos © and TM Rebellion A/S."Strontium Dog" is a trademark in the United States and other jurisdictions."2000 AD" is a registered trademark in certain jurisdictions. All rights reserved. Used under licence.

  ISBN(.epub): 978-1-84997-083-9

  ISBN(.mobi): 978-1-84997-124-9

  A CIP record for this book is available from the British Library.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

  This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

  STRONTIUM DOG

  A FISTFUL OF STRONTIUM

  Jaspre Bark & Steve Lyons

  CHAPTER ONE

  KILLING TIME

  "Whit did ye just say?"

  A gloved hand shot across the hotel's reception desk and closed around the throat of the fat, sweaty man who stood behind it.

  "Oof, sir, if you'll please just..." the hotelier choked. "Ow, please try to understand that it's the policy of this establishment to..." He was cut short as thick fingers tightened about his windpipe.

  The mutant, who was obviously Middenface McNulty, leaned over the desk. He was shaking with rage, and the knobbly lumps that sprouted from the top of his hairless head glowed red to match his mood. "We paid good money fer yer best luxury suite, an' ye expect us tae sleep in yon stables with the animals," he snarled.

  "Let it go, Middenface." His companion had to be Johnny Alpha. He spoke in a quiet growl, but his voice had a chilling authority. He was tall, lean and well-muscled, with curly, light brown hair. He lacked Middenface's bulk, but still he was able to calm the angry mutant with a firm hand on his shoulder. "We'll just get a refund and take our business elsewhere."

  "I'm afraid that won't be possible," croaked the hotelier, released from the mutant's choking grip. "Cancellations have to be registered forty-eight hours in advance, and we, err, we don't give refunds to, um, muties." Nervously, he rubbed the tender flesh around his ample neck.

  Middenface's nodules flashed angrily, but it was Johnny who stepped in with a firm but reasonable smile. "Listen," he said. "My friend here is not in a good mood. A two hundred light-year journey in a cheap transport ship will do that to a mutant. Add to that twelve hours in customs and third-class transportation from the spaceport, and I'm sure you can see why you don't want to be upsetting him right now."

  "I don't make the rules," insisted the hotelier in a terrified bleat. "It's company policy."

  Johnny, at first glance, appeared to be a norm. Only upon closer inspection was he betrayed by his eyes, which emitted a fierce glow. Those eyes flared as he caught the hotelier's gaze and his hapless victim seemed unable to tear his own eyes away as his whole bulk trembled.

  "You know what we are," said Johnny, his voice still calm and reasonable, "and you know what we're capable of. Do you mean to tell me you really want to try ripping us off?"

  Tears streaked from the hotelier's eyes, and a dark patch spread across his crotch. "Oh God," he whimpered through chattering teeth. "Oh God. I... I'll get your money right away, and... and a couple of complimentary robes, and, uh, uh, please don't look at me again!"

  And from a quiet corner of the reception area, unnoticed as he always was, Cain Hine watched with resentment burning in his chest.

  The fierce sun of Thulium 9 made the visitors shield their eyes as they stepped out onto the ramshackle boardwalk in front of the hotel. It was obvious from Middenface's curses that what he had seen of this world so far had not impressed him. Thulium 9 was a frontier planet out in the farthest reaches of inhabited space. Its climate was arid and inhospitable; its few small settlements based around scarce sources of fresh water. But it was Cain Hine's home.

  Middenface surveyed the unpaved streets of the town of Bogweed with a scowl. "Who'd've thought anyone worth seven hundred thousand credits could've come frae a backwater like this?"

  "It's not where you come from that matters," muttered his companion with the air of one who knew. "It's the prison you break out of, and the creep we're after broke out of the best. Maximum security, it was especially built to house the most dangerous criminals in the cosmos, and until a few weeks ago, thought inescapable."

  "Aye, that's seven hundred thousand credits worth
of egg on the authorities' faces, a'right, Johnny," agreed Middenface cheerfully.

  Cain Hine passed almost close enough to touch the bulky mutant's tartan shoulder pads as he retrieved his broom from where he had left it, propped up against the hotel's front wall. Still, neither Middenface nor Johnny appeared to have seen him. He kept his head down, his ears flopping in front of his face. But he couldn't resist another stolen glance at the fiery-eyed Johnny, and at the circular red shield he wore over his heart.

  Inscribed upon that shield, in black, were the letters: SD; the emblem of the Search and Destroy Agency, although to most people, mutants and norms alike, the letters stood for Strontium Dog. Warped like all mutants by the Strontium-90 isotope, they were the bloodhounds of intergalactic law enforcement.

  Slug had been right. It had paid to bribe staff at the Doghouse, the orbiting HQ of the Search/Destroy Agency. His contacts had told him there were Stronties on the way to Thulium 9, and that they were after a big bounty, too. It had to be big if Johnny Alpha and Middenface McNulty had accepted the job. Slug had instructed Cain to watch out for the pair, punctuating his instructions with insults and the occasional slap as always, and now here they were.

  "D'ye think there'll be anywhere fer us tae stay in this shitehole?" sighed Middenface.

  "Who knows?" shrugged Johnny. "If we can get our job done before dark, maybe we won't have to stay the night."

  He slipped a hard helmet over his head, hiding his brown locks. Despite his youth, he looked every bit as much a soldier as his partner: a stone-cold killer, whose very bearing spoke of the dangers that he had faced and survived. Cain could almost have admired him - admired both of them - but he shook himself and suppressed any similar thoughts. He reminded himself what Johnny Alpha and Middenface McNulty were: Strontium Dogs. Dirty, stinking traitors. Mutants who preyed on their own kind. Could there be any lower form of life?

  They strode along the boardwalk, ignoring the hostile stares of passers-by as if they didn't care, as if they took a perverse pride in their badges of disgrace. In contrast, few people paid much heed to the wretched figure of Cain Hine, shuffling in their wake. Cain, who had dragged himself up from nothing to the gutter, and landed one of the most coveted jobs open to a mutant. Cain Hine, who had every reason to be proud of himself; who was worth a dozen of their filthy kind.

  "D'ye really think this Identi Kit scunner'd come back here, Johnny?" asked Middenface. "Ye ask me, he's well shot o' the place!"

  "Maybe," said Johnny. "But the best lead we have is the Chameleons, his old gang. Even if Kit's not hiding out with them, we might turn up a few leads."

  They stopped to get their bearings on a street corner, apparently oblivious to a sizeable group of norms who glared at them from a table outside of one of Bogweed's saloons.

  "The question is," Johnny sighed, "how do we go about finding the Chameleon gang?"

  Cain Hine shuffled closer, eager to hear more. He thought about how pleased Slug would be when he heard that his snitch had not only found the Stronties, but had also learned of their plans. He basked in the imaginary warmth of the gang leader's praise.

  And he cried out in alarm as, suddenly, Johnny and Middenface rounded on him and a pair of meaty, gloved hands fastened around the scruff of his orange overalls and yanked out a handful of the fur beneath them.

  Before he could react, before he even knew what was happening, Cain Hine was bundled into a narrow side street and thrown to the dusty ground. He lost his grip on his broom and it skittered away from him. A booted foot came down on his chest and he flailed helplessly under Middenface's weight. He felt his fur curling and his tail shrivelling under the fierce stares of the two Stronties. He wasn't used to this kind of attention; wasn't used to being noticed at all. And his gaze was drawn irresistibly again to the mutant called Johnny, to those fiery eyes.

  "Any particular reason why ye've been following us?" asked Middenface, his polite words belied by the curl of his top lip, baring his teeth.

  Cain Hine couldn't speak at first. It had been so long since somebody had spoken to him and expected an answer. "I... I..." he stammered. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude, but I couldn't help... You... you gentlemen are Search/Destroy agents, aren't you? Oh geez, of course you are. I knew it as soon as I saw you outside the hotel. I could tell you were Stront... um, if you'll pardon the expression..."

  "So, whit dae ye want? An autograph?" growled Middenface.

  "Oh, geez, no."

  Johnny's eyes searched Cain's face, and suddenly, they were inside him, filling his head with red pain.

  "It's just... I was thinking that, you know, I might help you guys. People don't always pay me much heed, and they don't watch their mouths around me, so I pick things up, you know. Hey, I've thought about signing up to the agency myself, but gosh, those weapons you carry, they don't come cheap, and you need at least a couple of bounties to set yourself up, and..."

  He stopped himself. The words had just streamed out of him as if they had been vomited up, and now his tongue lolled out of his mouth and he couldn't think through the pain. He had been searching for a lie to deflect attention, but somehow the lie had been turned back upon him to reveal a secret truth.

  Those eyes filled Cain Hine's world, and he felt as if they were slicing into his brain, peeling away his memories sliver by sliver. Random flashes of smell, taste, sight and sound exploded against his senses, and suddenly, he was overwhelmed with bitterness, with every resentful thought he harboured against the norms. He was invisible to them. He relived every fantasy he had had of taking a gun to them, of watching their sneers freeze on their faces, of showing them that he was strong, and that he counted.

  Yes, he had envied the Strontium Dogs. He had fantasised, in his darkest hours, about being one of them and betraying his people. And he was deeply ashamed of it.

  "If you want tae help us," growled Middenface with an evil smile, "ye can tell us where tae find the Chameleons."

  "It's true, then? About Kit? That is who you're looking for, right? Kit, who used to be their leader? They say he became some big-time crook. After he left Thulium, I mean. Only, we ain't heard nothing of him in years. They say he can disguise himself, look like any other mutant. Is that right? Huh?"

  "The Chameleons," said Johnny, impatiently. "Where do they hang out?" And his eyes were inside Cain's mind again.

  "Well, uh, I don't rightly know that, sir," stammered Cain through the pain, sweat matting the fur on his brow. "But... but..." And then the memories erupted again, and he was no longer lying in the road but in the sawdust of a seedy mutant bar, and the men standing over him were no longer Middenface and Johnny, but Slug and Beanstalk, and Cain could hear the snickering laughter of Weasel, and he was remembering all the times he'd been beaten and humiliated at their hands, the images of their fists and feet merging into an endless collage of abuse, but it was okay, it was all his own fault, he deserved it, because he was a traitor, a disgrace to his own kind, and they were only trying to teach him a lesson, to make him strong, to make him one of them.

  And he would be one of them, one day. He would have the status, the respect that came from being a full member of the Chameleons. He knew this to be true because, although Slug may have despised him, he seemed to trust him. He had given him this mission, hadn't he?

  Slug had entrusted Cain to this mission, and Cain wouldn't fail him. What could these Stronties do to him that he hadn't endured before? Whatever they said, however hard they beat him, he wouldn't break. He wouldn't tell them a thing.

  It was with a creeping sense of horror that he realised he had been talking all this time; that the memories he'd been seeing inside his head had spilled out of him, involuntarily, in the form of words; that the Strontium Dogs knew everything about him, all the details of his miserable life that he had always been able to keep to himself simply because nobody else had ever been interested.

  And still the words came, falling off his tongue before he could stop them. "See, you gu
ys should be heading over to the west of town, that's where the mutant township is. Thing is, the Chameleons don't tell me where. That is, they always come find me when they want me. They got eyes everywhere. I reckon you should be looking for the Blades. They're, like, another gang around here. They've been muscling in on the Chameleons' rackets, and word is the Chameleons have decided it's time to settle the score and it's all going down tonight."

  There was more. To his dismay, Cain heard himself telling the agents where the Blades' favourite hangouts were and giving directions to boot. A little more prompting and he gave up all he knew about the Chameleons' current membership. And, when there was nothing else to say, Johnny's burning eyes withdrew from his mind at last, and Cain lay panting with exhaustion in the dirt.