Willful Child: Wrath of Betty

by Steven Erikson

  Hadrian smiled. “Of course you do! Best get on with them, then!” He led the way out of the Insisteon Chamber, everyone joining him since they all needed the same elevator. “Tammy, prepare the temporal bubble.”

  “Ah, that,” the chicken said as they all waited for the elevator.

  “What?”

  “Well, all the separate time travelers arriving at this moment, and in this spatial matrix, have created a perturbating disequilibrium in the temporal adherence native to this continuity.”

  “And?”

  “And,” said Tammy, “the temporal bubble won’t work, not for a few weeks yet.”

  “That’s too long,” said Hadrian. “Well, not for any particular reason, it’s just that I don’t really want to hang around here for that long. Any other options?”

  “We could fly as fast as we can toward the Sun,” said Tammy, “reaching insane velocity before slingshotting around the star and breaching the Temporal Inversion Wave Front.”

  “Really.”

  The chicken nodded.

  Galk said, “Captain, you made me a promise.”

  “I did, Galk, and I’m prepared to deal with the Anusian vessel. Of course, should we do so, we will alter the future and indeed, your homeworld of Varekan may, as a consequence, cease to exist.”

  Galk frowned, drew off his baseball cap and wiped his brow with the back of his wrist. “Right. Hadn’t considered that. Shit.” Then he brightened. “Still, the ultimate nihilistic end-run, wouldn’t you say, sir? I would become so pointless I’d simply plop right out of existence.”

  “You and every other Varekan,” Hadrian said.

  “We’re still waiting for this elevator,” Beta observed. “I should have used the stairs.”

  “We don’t have stairs,” Nina Twice pointed out.

  Beta turned to her. “Everyone knows but no one’s saying that the true color of sexual desire is puce, and country music makes lobsters go deaf.”

  “We still don’t have stairs,” said Nina Twice.

  “All right,” sighed Galk, “I take your point, sir. Still, all the misery and horror we could avoid, with a single blast of neoplasma.”

  “Forgive me, sir,” said Beta, “but I am unfamiliar with the Anusians.”

  “Be thankful for that,” Galk said.

  “Nevertheless. Captain, given my desire to be a real girl and a valued member of your crew, I wish to inform you that very few wire-backed bras can be safely ingested.”

  “The Anusians visited Earth constantly,” Hadrian explained, “abducting humans for the singular purpose of anally probing them. They also kidnapped humans and transplanted them on remote planets, possibly for the purpose of creating a kind of surplus reserve of … of sample anuses. Varekan, Galk’s home planet, was one such world.”

  “I see,” Beta replied. The robot turned to Galk. “Although the odds are only one in ten, having a cow’s udder surgically attached to your forehead may help.”

  “Thanks,” Galk replied, “I’ll take that under consideration.”

  “Where’s the damned elevator?”

  “Oh! Sorry!” said Hadrian. “This is the door to the closet. Next one down, and let’s hop to it everyone!”

  “I can wait,” said Buck behind them.

  * * *

  In the elevator, Printlip sighed. “Captain, three weeks stranded here wouldn’t be so bad.”

  “Really? Why do you say that, Doc?”

  “Well, given my career as a movie star—”

  “That was a fabrication,” interjected Sin-Dour.

  “Even so, Commander! As fleeting as fame may be, three weeks is better than nothing!”

  “You wish to return to the lustful embrace of Clark Gable?” Sin-Dour inquired, one brow rising.

  “The poster was most intriguing, wouldn’t you say? I mean, should a Belkri for some strange inexplicable reason find a human being attractive. Particularly when one has yet to decide on one’s own gender, biologically.”

  Hadrian looked down at his ship’s surgeon. “You get to decide whether to be male or female?”

  “Of course! A most weighty decision in the life of a young Belkri!”

  “Curious,” said Hadrian. “So, once you choose, what changes?”

  “Why, nothing! Oh, not entirely true. A single hair sprouts directly above the vocal sphincter on males. What you would call a moustache.”

  “That’s it?”

  “It can be very distinguishing!”

  The elevator door hissed open. “Ah,” added Printlip, “my level. Thus my stardom passes, like a flickering candle in the night.” The Belkri waddled out of the elevator.

  “Sir,” ventured Nina Twice as the journey resumed, “how long do you think the Chief Engineer will wait at the closet door?”

  “Oh, until the drugs wear off, I suppose,” Hadrian replied. “He won’t be getting into any trouble there.”

  “Yes sir.”

  Lorrin Tighe said to Nina, “You should never have gotten in my way, Lieutenant. That delay cost me—it cost us all.”

  “Oh get over it,” Nina retorted.

  Tighe jabbed a finger at Hadrian. “See how the disrespect infects others, sir? I’m Security Branch and should be accorded the proper respect.”

  “Then stop trying to kill the captain!” Nina said.

  “Listen,” cut in Hadrian, “why don’t you both go off duty for a couple hours, maybe resume your discussion in the bar. It’s been a harrowing day, hasn’t it?” And he halted the elevator at Level Thirteen. “This’ll do. Out you go, you two.”

  After exchanging a glare, Tighe and Nina departed. The elevator door hissed shut behind them.

  “Harrowing?” mused Tammy. “Must have missed that. I was fine.”

  “You nearly got run over,” Galk pointed out.

  “I did, four or five times, in fact,” the chicken replied. “The advantages of being a hologram, all those miraculous escapes, and why are you here in the elevator on its way to Bridge Level?”

  The Combat Specialist shrugged. “Just along for the ride. Besides, I want to get a look at that Anusian vessel.”

  “Lieutenant,” warned Hadrian.

  “I know, sir. But, better me on the bridge than in the combat cupola.”

  The elevator door opened. They exited. “Now,” said Hadrian, “I’ll see you all on the bridge in a few moments. Sin-Dour, prepare for us to leave orbit and fly at Insane Velocity directly toward the sun.”

  “Yes sir.”

  In his cabin, Hadrian pulled off his grubby shirt, then the rest of his clothes, before stepping into the sonic shower. As he hit the switch a song by Celine Dion came through the shower nozzle. “Tammy!”

  “I assure you, Captain, the high notes will leave you cleansed, and possibly deaf, though the latter is unfortunately temporary.”

  “Just can the music and let the hum wash over me.”

  “You were lucky on the planet below,” Tammy continued, speaking from the shower nozzle. “And yet, what about the krill?”

  “Sorted, and get out of my shower.”

  “I should also note that your command methods seem to be characterized by disaster, mishap, chaos and, grudgingly, success. But that success won’t last. It can’t.”

  Hadrian turned off the shower and stepped out of the stall. He dressed in black slacks; short, cuffed black boots; and a lime-green velour shirt. Then he took a moment in the mirror, tousling his hair, before pouring himself a glass of water from the sink. He emptied a satchel of powder into it and stirred with a finger. “Presentation, Tammy, is everything. My crew is proving most exceptional, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Exceptional, yes, absolutely. Each one is an exception indeed. Plagued by unique neuroses, strange obsessions, drug and alcohol abuse, and that’s just your Chief Engineer.”

  Sighing, Hadrian dried his finger with a towel and then walked to the door where he paused. “Tammy, you are an AI, a bunch of discriminating chips and gels and whatnot. But
us biologicals, well, we’re anything but. This is space! Inhospitable, hostile, ready to kill us at a moment’s notice! Accordingly, it takes a special kind of human being to be able to function in a crowded bubble of life beset on all sides by imminent death.”

  “Oh, and what kind of human being would that be?”

  “Psychologically stable, of course. But the thing is, there’s no such thing as ‘psychologically stable,’ and that is humanity’s best-kept secret. No, instead, what’s needed is the harmless kind of insanity-flow-through, rather than the ‘I’m-so-fucked-up-I’m-gonna-shoot-people’ kind of insanity. Every space-going vessel of the Affiliation is filled to the brim with neurotics.”

  “Those Benefactors have a lot to answer for.”

  Hadrian exited the cabin and made his way to the bridge. “Don’t they just.”

  As he arrived, Sin-Dour rose from the command chair. “Captain on the bridge,” she announced, turning to Hadrian. “Sir, sixteen more Temporal ships have appeared in orbit around Earth. We have attempted to hail all of them, but they each have refused to acknowledge. And now, sir, displacements are occurring among them.”

  “Down to the planet?”

  “No sir, to other Temporal vessels. Ambient emission leakage indicates weapon fire on board those vessels.”

  Hadrian settled into the chair, finding it alluringly warm. “They’re fighting it out.”

  “It seems so, sir.”

  From comms, Eden said, “According to the chatter, they’re arguing about a cat.”

  “Idiots,” muttered Hadrian. Then he raised his voice. “Helm, set course for the Sun, full speed.”

  “Yes sir!”

  “Captain,” Galk said, moving closer to the command chair, “I stealth-scanned a vessel signature from that Anusian ship.”

  “Did you now?”

  Galk tucked in a mouthful of chaw, making one cheek bulge. “Something curious came up.”

  “Do go on.”

  At the Astrogation Station, Beta said, “We have just passed Venus. Hull temperature climbing. Velocity at maximum. The galaxy’s smartest people wear yellow leotards in private.”

  Galk chewed for a moment, then said, “All future signatures are identical to this one. No variation at all.”

  “None?”

  “None, Captain.”

  “You’re suggesting that it’s the same ship, in each and every instance of contact with humanity.”

  “Yes, I might be at that.”

  “But—”

  Sin-Dour suddenly interjected, “Captain! Hull temperature is now eighty-six million degrees!”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “Oh! Sorry, sir, I misplaced the decimal. Still, we are approaching critical limits.”

  “Well, we are slingshotting around the Sun, right? I mean, our course will take us to one side, correct?”

  Joss Sticks swung round in her seat. “Captain! The chicken gave me the heading and I just double-checked and we’re speeding straight into the heart of the Sun!”

  Hadrian glared at the chicken. “Tammy!”

  “Of course I made it all up! Again! And you all fell for it! Again!”

  “Initiate the Temporal Bubble immediately!”

  “Why, is it a little hot in here? Ha ha ha! Okay, we’ll have to do this on the fly, and I did tell you, it’s better to make the shift at full stop. Only we can’t do that, can we? Oh well, who knows what we’ll run into?”

  “Have you gone suicidal on us, Tammy?”

  “Perhaps I have indeed been somewhat infected by your lust for excitement and whatnot. Anyway, hang on, everyone!”

  There was a faint plop, the viewscreen went dark, and moments later a natural starscape returned, showing a distant sun.

  “Ah,” said Tammy, “seems we’ve overshot things somewhat.”

  “Sir,” said Beta. “We are somewhere between Mars and Earth.”

  “Right. Time period?”

  “Six weeks before we started,” said Tammy, hopping up onto the dais and pecking at Hadrian’s bootlace, before adding, “Not-yet-obliterated future Earth, dead ahead. Oh, and the Giant Shrimp has already entered the system, about twenty minutes out.”

  “Take us in, Helm,” said Hadrian. “Full stealth mode.” He glanced at Galk. “We’ll muse on your findings later, Lieutenant. Best head down to the Combat Cupola.”

  “Aye, captain.”

  “Helm! ETA?”

  “Three minutes, sir. There’s all kinds of ship traffic ahead, sir.”

  “Try not to hit anything, then.”

  “Like, duh!”

  Hadrian rose. “Tammy, care to join me?”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To the Insisteon Chamber. We have seventeen minutes to save Earth. Oh, and Sin-Dour, you have the chair. Please signal Dr. Printlip to join us.”

  “Yes sir.”

  Tammy at his heels, Hadrian set out for the Insisteon Chamber.

  “I hate it when you get all smug,” the chicken said.

  As they passed the door to Hadrian’s quarters he halted. “Oh! Didn’t I pour myself a drink earlier? I’ll just be a moment.” He entered his cabin and returned moments later with the glass. “All right, let’s get going—we don’t have much time.”

  “You should avoid those supplements,” Tammy said. “The niacin rush can be a killer. Or so I’m told.”

  Drink in hand, Hadrian entered the elevator, Tammy hopping in after him. “Level Four, please.” The captain then leaned back. He raised the glass and studied its ruddy contents. “My grandpa was a comic collector.”

  “A what? Oh, those tatty lurid illustrated stories. The ones he went back for.”

  “Yes, those ones. We almost got caught, too. The spook agency had the old storage shed wired.”

  “All for a bunch of moldy comics!”

  “Not moldy at all. Hermetically sealed, in fact.”

  The elevator door opened and out they went into the corridor in which various crew members walked back and forth attending to whatever tasks made them look busy. Entering the Insisteon Chamber, they found Printlip awaiting them.

  “Doc!” said Hadrian, smiling as he approached. “Turn on that Medical Pentracorder, will you? And scan the contents of this glass.”

  “Un-prescribed supplements? Captain! Did I not warn you—”

  “Just scan, please.”

  Printlip studied the Pentracorder’s readings. “Marginally effective,” it concluded, “nutritionally minimal but essentially harmless. You may drink it, sir, although the brine content may well result in torturous stomach upheaval, leaving you prostate on the floor.”

  “Drink it? Not a chance! With this glass we’re going to save Earth!”

  “I saw you empty a packet into that glass!” said Tammy, scrambling after Hadrian as he walked over to the nearest Displacement Pad and set the glass down on it. “What did you put in that water?”

  Straightening, Hadrian went over to the station and began feeding in coordinates. “Doc! Fresh or salt water?”

  “Salt, Captain. Most clever—I thought we failed at acquiring any krill, and yet—”

  Hadrian drew out a folded packet from his pocket and held it up. “The Comicon gave me the idea. Comics! Ad pages in old comics. And then, that Novelty Store across the street. And voila! Sea-Monkeys!”

  “Sea what?” Tammy asked.

  “Just add water! Instant shrimp! Now, here, Pacific Ocean, dead center, more or less. Displacing now…” He worked a half-dozen dials, levers and buttons, and then pushed the Displacement Button.

  The glass and its contents vanished from the pad.

  “There! Done!” Hadrian activated the room’s comms. “2IC, has the Giant Shrimp arrived in orbit yet?”

  “Just this moment, sir. It appears to be transmitting some sort of signal down to the planet’s oceans … Sir! Something’s answering those hails! The Giant Shrimp’s just, uh, flicked its tail, and now it’s leaving! Captain, Earth has been saved!”


  “Excellent,” said Hadrian. “Now, 2IC, take us some distance away from Earth—give us some breathing room. We don’t want anyone stumbling on to us.”

  “Yes sir … oh, there is a vessel approaching us from the outer system. Scanning now … Sir, it’s the Contrarians.”

  “Them again? Fine. Sin-Dour, get Helm to shift our planar axis ninety degrees, will you? Let’s go say hi.”

  “Why are you messing with their heads?” Tammy asked.

  “Why, because it’s fun! Now, let’s head back to the bridge, shall we? We’ll chat with the Contrarians, then, Tammy, do plop us back into our proper timeline—who knows what mayhem the galaxy has got up to in our absence, and when it comes to mayhem, I want to be right in the middle of it!”

  “Well,” muttered Tammy, “that shouldn’t be a problem.”

  EiGHT

  Plop!

  “Battle Stations! Red Alert! Defensive shields on full!”

  Alarms blared, lights flashed. On the main viewer before them an Engage Class ship was reeling from a fusillade of missiles. Beyond it, looming huge, was a Klang Abject Class battleship, its innumerable weapon ports open and spewing out projectiles at a prodigious rate.

  Hadrian settled into the command chair and leaned forward. “Identify that Engage Class vessel.”

  At comms, Jimmy Eden said, “Registers as the AFS Century Warbler, the latest-generation Engage Class, sir. Captain Hans Olo in command.”

  “Thank you, Eden. Captain Hans Olo? He’s new, isn’t he?”

  “The second-youngest AFS captain in the fleet,” said Sin-Dour from the Science Station, turning to regard Hadrian with a raised eyebrow.

  Hadrian studied that raised eyebrow for a moment, and then faced the main viewer again. “Captain Hans Olo seems to be in some trouble. But luckily, he clearly has not yet surrendered to the Klang.”

  “He could be incapacitated, sir. The Warbler has taken hull damage.”

  “Eden! Hail the Warbler. In the meantime, Helm, take us in—we’re moving between the two ships. Have all decks prepare for missile impacts on our shields.” He activated the captain’s comm on the chair’s armrest. “Galk! You’re going to have some salvos to intercept.”

  “Acknowledged. You want me to disable that Klang battleship while I’m at it?”