Anger Management

by Lawrence M Schoen

  A flick of the guard's wrist triggered a defensive response and Dyrk ducked as a bolt of electricity blasted from the baton and over his head. The guard continued forward and Dyrk narrowly dodged the man’s vicious backswing.

  He bent over backwards and used his momentum to spring into a handstand as the guard’s momentum carried him past.

  Dyrk dropped back to his feet and hopped to the guard’s back.

  The man stopped his swing and instead his arm began to sweep back around at waist height.

  There was no way Dyrk was going to avoid the impact if he stayed where he was, so he dropped into a slide. He pushed hard against the side of the guard's knee and was rewarded when he felt the kneecap shift.

  The guard yelled as he fell right on top of Dyrk. But Dyrk was ready.

  He immediately pummeled the man with a series of punches to his abdomen. He needed to create some distance. He covered himself with his arms and rolled away. The man started to stand, flinching because of his knee.

  Dyrk kicked out and hit him in the side of that knee. The guard screamed and fell back on his ass, clutching his leg.

  Dyrk came up on his own knee and pivoted his hips to bring all his force into a strike at the man’s jaw. It was apparently made of glass. The guard dropped unconscious.

  Well, at least he's not feeling the pain of his dislocated kneecap.

  Dyrk ignored Ben's comment and came back to his feet. There was still another guard to deal with. He looked around but the man was nowhere to be found.

  Dyrk, he must have run for help. You need to hurry.

  «Roger that, Ben.»

  Dyrk ran the length of the room to his goal, the large turbine spinning inside the opposite wall. He skidded to an abrupt halt when he realized a glass shield stood between himself and the machinery.

  «Well, that’s inconvenient.»

  Over on the right. There’s an access panel.

  «Thanks, good catch.»

  He moved to his right and flipped the latches on the panel. Seconds later the shield slid open and he immediately felt the air being sucked through the opening. The pull was strong, but not enough to be a danger. There was no risk of him being dragged off his feet.

  Dyrk pulled the pillowcase from his shirt and reached within, releasing a handful of Potato’s fur and letting it slowly escape his fingers. The wind pulled it away and he watched it disappear down the giant tunnel. He reached in for more fur and hair, repeating the process until the pillowcase was nearly empty.

  «That should do it,» Dyrk said as he folded the bag and returned it to within his shirt.

  Good. Now get the hell out of here before that guard comes back with reinforcements.

  Dyrk turned to comply, racing back across the room. He paused to pick up one of the guard's stun batons.

  «Do you see that cap on the end? That's an add-on that's supposed to be limited to military police. It ramps up the power and actually gives the baton a bit of distance.»

  That's how we almost got zapped?

  «Pretty much. Only one of them came within range and I got lucky.»

  Why don't we have that doodad on our batons?

  Dyrk shrugged. «I knew the flaw I'd found in the Box's avatars could be exploited using a standard baton with direct contact. I couldn't tell if it would work at higher power or from a distance. I went with the sure thing.»

  Well, it's hard to argue with your results. You wiped out every Box on Titan, at least until Doos showed up.

  «Thanks, I appreciate that.» Holding the rod of the baton with one hand he began twisting the piece on the end until it popped off, and then slipped it into a pocket.

  Great, show that appreciation by getting us the hell out of here. Now.

  The route they’d come in was no good. The remaining, missing guard must have spotted the dangling trapdoor. He’d have to leave through the outer office and one of its exits into the spaceport.

  Cautiously, Dyrk approached the door that the guard had likely fled through.

  He pressed his ear against it. He heard nothing so he opened the door. The room beyond was empty save for a couple of chairs, a few desks, and a coffee pot.

  Go!

  Dyrk did as Coop instructed. He rushed through the room, out its lone door and found himself face-to-face with the guard who had run away. He wasn’t holding a stun baton anymore.

  Now he was holding a bolt-pistol.

  Dyrk plastered a smile on his face. «Now, that seems unnecessary,” he said calmly as he closed the door behind him. He held his hands up in obvious surrender.

  The guard, a very young man, didn’t seem inclined to agree. He jerked the weapon toward Dyrk. His hands shook on the pistol’s grip.

  «Is this your first job? You seem kind of young for this kind of work. But really, believe me, you can put that gun away. There is no need. I don’t want anybody to get hurt. Especially me. But including yourself.» He took another slow step forward.

  “Bullshit. You attacked us. You’re… you’re a terrorist!”

  “Son, I don’t have time to explain how wrong you are. But if you don’t mind, I’m just going to walk out that door and never bother you again.”

  “Too late. I already called the cops. They said to hold you here.” The man seemed a little more confident.

  Dyrk took another step. The guard was only a few feet away. But he still had the pistol trained on Dyrk’s face.

  «Well, that wasn’t very hospitable. You see, the police and I are well acquainted. But I don’t have time for them right now. So, I’m just going to…” Dyrk bent over and ducked his head. Then he plowed straight into the young man, driving his shoulder into the kid’s gut and shoving all the way across the room until he slammed him into the opposite wall.

  The guard lost his wind and his pistol at the same time. In the next instant Dyrk pushed up with his knees and slammed the top of his head into the underside of the man’s jaw.

  A stunned look crossed the young man’s face right before his eyes rolled into the back of his head. Then his skinny legs turned into jelly and he crumpled to the floor.

  Dyrk brushed his hands off, straightened his shirt and walked nonchalantly out of the office into the corridor beyond.

  He had already made two turns and melted into a crowd near a dry goods store by the time the sound of rushing footsteps announced that the police had arrived.

  Dyrk whistled to himself as he set off about his next task.

  Chapter 16

  After things calmed down, Coop took back control of his body.

  “I’m hungry. All this fighting is exhausting.”

  «But I do all the work.»

  “It’s the same body. And it doesn’t seem to care who pulls the levers. It just wants food.”

  He located a restaurant that was little more than a tiny grill on the sidewalk with a smattering of mismatched chairs and mid-sized overturned industrial cable spools serving as tables. But it had sizzling meat and the aroma stopped Coop in his tracks. It smelled amazing, and for some inexplicable reason reminded him of waking up in his trailer with the script girl on the set of Raining Over Lawyers. Good times.

  The grill's proprietor had opted to make life easy for both himself and his customers. He offered only a single product, a generous portion of savory meat dripping with its own juice on a wooden skewer.

  “I’ll take one,” Coop signaled.

  «Make it two. It could be a long day.»

  Coop shrugged. Dyrk had a point.

  “Make it two, please.”

  A moment later the man handed over a pair of meat-laden skewers and a single, ironic napkin. Coop took them, paid the man, and smiled as he settled onto a rickety plastic chair and immediately tore into his food.

  “Who knew being an action-hero could make you so hungry?”

  «Me.»

  “Do you get hungry?”

  «Yes. Maybe worse than you do. Remember, I am hard wired into your sensory system. What you feel, I feel. Very d
irectly.»

  “Huh. I hadn't thought about it like that.”

  «Ben, can I share something with you?»

  “The actor shrugged. “If not with me, then with whom?”

  «You have to promise you won't laugh.»

  “Nope, that's not going to happen.”

  «So you won't laugh?»

  “No, I mean I won't promise. We'll just have to see how it goes. Say what you have to say.”

  In his mind, Dyrk sighed. «When this is all over, I want to learn how to cook.»

  “What? Why?”

  «It's so primal. So basic. And it's so very far outside my experience. Do you know how many of the films that make up my understanding of the world even included sitting down and enjoying a full meal, let alone preparing one? Less than two-percent.»

  “Well, yeah, that's just the genre. People who go to see action heroes are looking for car chases and explosions, not a ten-course tasting menu at a Michelin star restaurant.”

  «No, I get that. But that's all the more reason for me to learn to cook. I want to develop my palate. I want to experience everything there is for me to taste.»

  Coop nodded, respecting the sentiment as he took another bite from his skewer. “Okay, well, I'm not laughing. I think that's a pretty good goal.”

  «Thank you.»

  “So, tell me. How does this meat taste?”

  «Like heaven. You know, a few days ago everything was so new that it was overwhelming. The tastes were so powerful that I couldn’t tell them apart. But now I can appreciate them more. And this stuff is amazing.»

  “I agree. But you should know, where I come from there are a lot of vegetarians.”

  «Why? Is meat too expensive? Did all the cows die? Don’t they know what they’re missing?»

  “Don’t ask me to explain it, Dyrk. Some things just can’t be understood. But, if I've learned anything in this life, it's that you have to respect other people's differences.”

  «Because we're all unique individuals and everyone's views are valid?»

  “Ummm... maybe, but I was thinking because it just makes it easier to get along. Life's too short to spend time arguing about the morality of putting mayonnaise on your french fries.”

  «Please tell me you're making that up.»

  “I wish I was. It's a thing in the Netherlands.”

  In his head Coop could hear Dyrk shuddering.

  Having quickly finished his first meat skewer, Coop appreciated Dyrk's insistence on buying a second. He bit down on a chunk of meat and ripped it from the stick. “Okay, let’s get back on track. Where are we going next?”

  «We need to head to the terminal and find a ticketing agent of some kind. They should be able to make us a deal on renting a cabin.»

  Coop nodded. He knew the way to the terminal, so as soon as he finished the last of skewer number two he headed in that direction. But he wasn’t hurried. He took his time, dabbing at the corners of his mouth with the paper napkin as he walked. The meat — whatever kind of meat it had been — had tasted delicious. He wanted to savor it, for himself and for Dyrk. Somehow, it felt better knowing that he was sharing the experience. He allowed himself to bask in the experience of the flavors so his viral co-pilot could do so as well.

  Besides, he needed to distribute the remaining bits of Potato's fur, which he accomplished along the way.

  Coop left hair at every intersection and made a point of putting some on the many small vehicles that traveled around the port delivering goods and people to their destinations.

  Anything he could think of to make things more difficult for the Box bastards seemed like a good idea.

  “I hope they lose their little alien minds chasing this stuff around.”

  Inside his head, Dyrk snickered. Then they arrived at the terminal and it was time to pay attention.

  Just inside the big hall Coop stopped and stepped out of the crowd to stand against the wall. He looked around for signs of trouble.

  “Do you see the Box anywhere?”

  «Al said they were at the major exits. But I assume he meant to the spaceport itself. So, if they’re here, they wouldn’t be at the ticketing area. They’d be near the choke-points, like heading into security or the passenger terminal for arrivals or the big air-locks where commercial vehicles get loaded and unloaded.»

  “That makes sense. All right, let’s see what we have here.”

  Coop looked up and down the ticketing counters. A swarming host of humans and aliens milled about arranging transactions. Porters and laborers came and went with luggage and cargo destined for Earth, other system moons, or more rarely the far reaches of the galaxy. It was a busy place. Like an ant colony, but with body odor.

  Finally, he found what he needed. A short, bored looking woman manned a counter underneath a sign for Kuiper Flights that advertised passenger trips to several destinations throughout the solar-system. Underneath that sign a digital message flashed: All Flights Canceled Due to Repairs.

  “Perfect.”

  Coop checked the area for any stray Box one last time. Finding none, he moseyed over to the counter.

  The woman, a middle-aged brunette with an incredible resting-bitch face, glared at him as he approached. Her name tag said ‘Doris.’

  “Sorry, we aren’t selling tickets right now. All flights are canceled, and we don’t know when they’ll pick up again.”

  Coop smiled. “So, you have a great big ship sitting on the ground with nobody on it and no revenue coming in. Am I correct?”

  Doris nodded. “You got it, darling. So stop wasting my time.”

  “Well, Doris, I assure you, that's the last thing I want to do. But it just so happens, a fallow starship is exactly what I’m looking for. I need a private room for a couple of days.”

  “Then get a hotel room.”

  “I need more privacy than that. I want to get off-grid, so to speak.”

  Doris popped the piece of gum in her mouth. “Why? You running from somebody?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Not so much. I’m just nosey.”

  “Noted. So tell me, do you have a passenger room I can rent?”

  “I might. But I need to know what you’re gonna do with the room. This kinda thing can be done, but the last guy who rented it snuck out a day early and we wound up cleaning lubricants off the ceiling for most of a week. And he left a set of manacles bolted into the wall that required an engineer to remove them without further damaging the wall, and that wasn't cheap. Then he stiffed us on half of his bill.”

  “Lubricants? Manacles?”

  “Yeah. The pleasure variety, if you get my meaning.”

  Coop did. But he didn’t feel like having that conversation with Doris.

  “Well, there won’t be any of that going on. I and two of my friends just want to get away. One of my friends is sick and we want a quiet place for her to recover while we wait for our flight.”

  “I guess that can be arranged. You’ll have to pay up front. Manacle-boy ruined that for everyone.”

  Coop shook his head to clear away the imagery. “That won’t be a problem, Doris. Thank you for all your help.”

  Chapter 17

  Al had remained at the bedside of the comatose girl until the house doctor arrived, lingering only to pass along instructions to do anything and everything possible to see to her comfort and well-being, and to contact him if there were any changes. Given his understanding that the girl had been in an unconscious state for months, he didn't deem that to be very likely.

  Doug, one of his most trusted and useful minions arrived as he exited the suite. Al spared him a brief nod. Doug had his instructions, there was nothing more to say to him. And too, Al found himself distracted in ways he had never known before.

  All the way back to his underground sanctum, Alhiz’khlo’tam's thoughts were awhirl. An absolute fact, a fundamental law of reality, had exploded. Doos, the one being who, since the near annihilation of his people, represented all tha
t was evil and implacable in the universe. At the core of his being, Al understood Doos to be as invincible and undefeatable as a force of nature. One might have better luck attempting to confront a hurricane.

  Which is why, since gaining power and influence on Titan, he had fought back against the Box in indirect ways. He had interfered with their shipments, hacked their communications satellite, reversed engineered their technology and put it out on the open market. He had never come at any of them directly — Doos's destruction of Clustera had demonstrated the futility of that — but he had annoyed and distracted and hindered them from the shadows at every turn.

  Al had had opportunity to study eight distinct Box personae and while they had varied significantly, they shared a common, algorithmic world view. This had befuddled and confounded him at first. Such an approach was the very antithesis of how all Clusterans understood life. His people were spontaneous, creative, and unpredictable. They progressed through inspiration and random moments of illumination. They had been nothing like the Box, which fact Al believed probably contributed to their doom. Since coming to Titan he had damped down these attributes and learned to recognize and understand the cold and logic-based perspective of the Box. It was simply a matter of knowing his enemy, a foe who could be endlessly harassed if never actually defeated.

  Except they could be defeated.

  Mere days ago, Cooper had rid Titan of every active Box extension belonging to the three distinct individuals who had been here. And earlier today he had physically beaten Doos, a complete and utter impossibility. And more recently still, it appeared that perhaps Dr. Acorns had taken the impossible to a greater level by vanquishing two instantiations of Doos.

  A fundamental concept of the universe had changed. Doos was not invincible.

  He needed to check on his daughter first. But though she remained his greatest priority no matter what else might happen, he paused to consult the status of the remaining Doos extensions on Titan. The majority remained at the spaceport's entry points, exactly where they'd been earlier. The few avatars that roamed the streets appeared to move about randomly. The data suggested they had not abducted Dr. Acorns nor secured Potato. Everything was very much still in play, which in turn meant he had much to do. But it would all wait long enough for him to see Antella'nestra.