“He’s saying that Empress Thun’s reinforcements have breached the catacombs beneath Ultima Thule and are gathering, ready at a moment’s notice to head to the battle. It’ll take them a good thirty minutes to reach the battle, as Thun has given everyone a watered-down version of Flight Feet.”
Sophia cocks her head as the toucan word-vomits more noises in her direction.
“Over ‘ere, Quantum!” I hear a voice call from my right. “I may need to borrow this bloody cloak. I’ve been meaning to play a little prank on Scotty…”
I return my focus, and part of my disdain, back to Sophia, who responds to the toucan with a series of noises I guess she describes as her heritage tongue. “How did you get a toucan to speak your language?”
“It’s a crow, and I can understand it, Quantum. Mandarin is watered down Cantonese. Can you understand someone from Britain?”
“Sometimes.”
“Tennessee?”
“Less times.”
“New Zealand?”
“You know I actively avoid Kiwis.”
“Whatever, shut up.”
“You shut up.”
“No, I’m getting intel, you shut up.”
“I won’t shut up until you shut up.”
Sophia grumbles and takes a few steps away so she can continue her conversation with the toucan.
I wink at Jim and he salutes me. “That’s a little much, Jim.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Quantum, sir.”
This guy makes my trigger finger itchy. There, I’ve said it, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to put a cap in his ass, not after he’s shown me just how capable he is with a Slice Bang. So I let it slide as I glance up at the sky, which is gray, a few snowflakes falling lazily to the soil below us.
Forgot to mention that part.
Fighting in the snow ain’t easy, and there wasn’t a lot here, but there was enough that I felt slippy slidey a few times, which I turned to my advantage using some AA goodness. Point is: I didn’t have to equip my snow boots, item 539, but I did equip my Bean Boots, item 369, which are custom in the fact that the rubber sole is lime green, and the shaft is made of a flexible adamantium and carbon fiber blend.
Because they make me feel like a badass, I keep the boots on, figuring I’ll just have to equip them again later if Father Winter makes his presence known. Weird too, this whole ‘Ultima Thule is cold’ thing, considering the fact that the place is inhabited by a bunch of lizard people. But I didn’t write this shit, and if I had, I wouldn’t have added a lizard people to the mix.
“Why are you admiring your shoes?” Sophia asks.
“Because you aren’t telling me what the toucan you’ve tasked with intel has to say. That, and they look good. Right?”
“Sure…”
“And another thing, Rocket,” I call to the sky. “Update us, kid.”
Rocket: Quantum, I have a favor to ask you.
Me: The answer is no.
Rocket: You don’t even know the question.
Me: I don’t want to be your Best Man because I’m don’t travel well on planes, and I don’t really want to deal with the 1.6 billion people living in India.
Rocket: I’m not asking you to my wedding! And it’s 1.7, in case anyone’s counting.
“Will you stop bothering with Rocket?” Sophia asks. “Ray Steampunk is calling us.”
“Tell the God of Steam this is my world, not his, and I’ll come when I’m damn well ready.”
More messages from Rocket appear on my pane of vision.
Rocket: It’s not that.
Rocket: It’s something else.
Rocket: Something different.
Me: Send all your messages in one message. Constantly seeing the word ‘Rocket’ flash before me triggers my digital PTSD. Get it out, kid, what do you need?
Rocket: Can my girlfriend fight with you guys? She’s a big fan of Steampunk, as you know.
Me: She’s also not your girlfriend anymore.
Rocket: Right. Well, it’s easier to refer to her that way. Can she?
“Sophia?” I ask, turning to the Mind Mage, who is still squawking at her big green toucan.
“As long as she doesn’t get in my way, I’m fine with that.”
“Fine, Rocket, but just this time, and if she gets in the way, well, they don’t call it friendly fire for no reason.”
Sophia rolls her eyes. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“You two should get married already!” Burley says, still invisible.
Not a second later, and before Sophia and I can both make a gagging sound at Burley’s suggestion, an astral form takes shape. An Indian woman steps out in steampunk gear, her bosom on full display, inflated by a corset laced with white string.
She’s in fantasy duds in an instant; the gears and old timey western accoutrements she was wearing fade away and are replaced by, well, a similar outfit without steampunk elements. Her ears elongate, and a tiara forms above her forehead. She wears a tikka as well, which is radiating red energy.
“What’s your name again?” I start to ask.
“Doesn’t matter. Today, call me Mrs. Rocket,” she says, batting her eyelashes.
Rocket: She’s so cute!
“How about I call you Rockette instead? Seeing as how you two haven’t taken a tour around the Punjab on an elephant, if you get my drift.”
The brown skinned woman raises an eyebrow at me. “Not all Indian weddings have elephants, in fact, most don’t. Many now get married at the drive-through wedding chapels in Varanasi or Mumbai.”
“But will yours have elephants?” I ask, a sly grin on my face.
Rocket: OF COURSE IT WILL!
“No, absolutely not,” she says, a defiant look on her face.
Me: You heard the lady.
Rocket: Loud and clear!
Me: Exactly.
~*~
The Knights’ B Team appear on the starboard deck, or whatever the hell the front part of a steamboat is called. There are those who spend a considerable amount of time in Proxima pirate worlds, and sure, they’d bust my balls for fudging the locations on Steampunk’s over-the-top vessel, but what can I do? And who needs swashbucklers anyway in a world of smugglers?
“Mr. Steampunk, sir, it’s a pleasure to see you,” says beautiful Rockette, who lifts her hands to her chest in a prayer position and offers him a bow.
If Ray Steampunk gives a golden shit that there’s a new person in our ranks, he ain’t showing it. The long-haired man in golden armor hardly acknowledges any of us, so focused is he on the battle below.
Rather than use digital means to get a close-up of the battle below – i.e. a giant holoscreen with NFL-esque play-by-play – Steampunk has several telescopes erected on the deck of his steamboat, one of which has the action from below reflected onto a giant mirror.
Don’t know how he pulled it off, but it looks almost like a television. A quick look at the fight and I see the Thuleans have come out in force, ghost limbs galore, and I never thought I’d be impressed by the dragon humans, but seeing them flipping around like Cirque du Soleil on meth makes me wish I’d spent more time in gym class rather than playing PS5 when I was a wee one.
“Just in case anyone is wondering, reinforcements are on the way,” I announce to the group.
“We are aware,” says the Thulean man standing next to Ray. The lizard man doesn’t look like royalty, but the little brat standing next to him does. Lo and behold it’s Princess Zaena again, the young Thulean who has made it a point to give me the stink eye every chance she gets.
“Hey there, slugger.”
“Slugger?” Sophia chuckles. “You really aren’t a people person, are you? If you couldn’t figure it out already, Princess Zaena really doesn’t care for you.”
“Yeah? Well I don’t care for her either, and go ahead and tell her, go on, I’ll wait, just in case she doesn’t understand the common tongue. And who really knows? There may be a day that I end up saving her ass. Don’t know why
I feel that way, but it’s usually what happens to people who hate me right off the bat. That, or I kill them.”
“It will be the quickest death you’ve ever died,” the young princess says, brandishing two daggers.
“You want a knife fight? Because I can do a knife fight.” I see her orange eyes move from my face to the big Bowie strapped to my leg.
“Where did you get those shoes?” she asks, her expression lightening.
“Duck boots, some people call them Bean boots. Popular in the New England area of America. Real handy for unpredictable weather, believe you me.”
“They look stupid.”
Ray Steampunk nods in agreement. “You can make fun of Quantum later, Princess Zaena.”
“Just Zaena,” says the young Thulean.
“She’s so cute,” Rockette whispers.
“I’ve got other adjectives to describe her,” I mumble to myself. A quick headcount tells me that there are way too many people in my life. Rockette, Jim, Dave and Croc are standing behind me. To the right, Chrono is next to Sophia, Steampunk and Princess Mean Girl are up front, and I don’t know where the hell Burley is. There are also a few of Ray’s steam guards standing around looking like a bunch of stiffs.
“As you can see,” Ray says, his lips not moving but his voice heard by all, “Strata and the Reapers are making quite the advance on Athos.” He waves his gauntleted hand at one of the mirrors, enlarging an image of one of the Reaperzoids firing a series of missiles at Ray’s floating steamboat, which explode before they can reach the vessel.
“The Reapers won’t get a hit in,” he assures us. “What worries me is this dome made of energy… here.” Ray points at the northern quadrant of his mirrored representation of the war. “This is where you will find Strata, protected by a shield that has been erected by the Meridian Circuit.”
“Which we’re handling,” I tell Steampunk.
“Yes. To the west of the shield are the Reapers’ backup mechs. So far, I’ve tasked my Steam Enforcers with keeping them at bay, but once they are all part of the battle, we will have to act swiftly, as their forces could prove overwhelming.”
“What’s all the white on the map?” I ask. “Up at the front.”
“Bleached people are the front line, followed by the lower-rank Reapers.”
“They’re sending slaves to fight?”
“Correct.”
“Bastards.”
“For once, my sister’s killer and I can agree,” says the Thulean princess. I don’t see why she feels the need to constantly bust my balls, but I’ve got bigger fish to fry.
“Ray, let me stop you there.”
“I was finished.”
“Good, then let me throw in my two cents. Nope,” I tell Sophia as she starts to roll her eyes. “You’re going to like this plan, trust me.”
“Let me hear the plan first.”
“Mates, as much as I want to stand around ‘ere and strategize,” says Burley, “I’ve got to bloody get down there. My boys ‘ave already appeared and are cleaning up shop. Oi, Quantum, you won’t mind if I borrow your little cloak here, will you?”
“By all means. Anyone else who wants to get to the fight?”
Dirty Dave raises his hand. “Can I borrow your Steam Enforcer again?” he asks, his eye twitching.
“She’s all yours,” I say as I toss him the gear.
Croc steps forward. “Cid is down there now. I think he could use a little muscle.”
“Cool, see you.”
“I want to fight,” says Rockette.
Rocket: That’s my girl!
“No,” says Sophia, “let the NPCs go. If you kill a bleachie, you’ll face real world repercussions. That’s why Strata has put them on the frontline. You should stay here with us.”
“Okay, madam.”
“It’s Dr. Wang.”
Rather than comment on their terse little exchange, I turn to Jim to see the doorman also volunteering. “I’ll go with Croc and Dave.”
With that, the NPCs from The Loop disappear completely.
“Now that that’s all sorted out, I think we got a little surprise we can deliver to the Reapers and their little mech toys. This steamboat got a claw hand or anything on its underside?”
“A claw hand?” Steampunk asks, his mouth not moving.
“Yeah, you know, like on the claw machine. Little pinchers. That sort of thing. You got one here or what?”
“I believe that can be arranged.”
“Good, then I got the perfect thing.”
Chapter Eleven
Now, I’m not going to say anything stupid like ‘I’ve waited my whole life to drop the Mother of All Bombs, item 358, from a floating steamboat,’ but it is definitely something on my bucket list.
It takes us a whole minute to get into position, but once we are over the mech storage area, Ray Steampunk gives his steamies the go-ahead and the claw hand comes out of the bottom of the boat, circles around to the deck, and carefully lifts my MOAB, which I’ve set on the deck and even taken the liberty to carefully carve a little note on its side using my Bowie knife: Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.
“Marauders and Reapers who can fly will swarm us when we open the shield,” Ray Steampunk says.
“Is that your fancy way to tell us to get ready to start clobbering?” I ask.
“It is.”
“Ready!” Rockette goes with a pair of twin swords, and in that moment, I can see why Rocket likes her. She’s spunky and cute, and she doesn’t look too shabby in her fantasy duds.
No idea what she looks like in real life, but then again, if she’s only seen Rocket through his muscled Proxima avatars, he won’t be the only one who is disappointed.
“Then open the shields!” says Steampunk, his voice booming.
Just as the God Emperor of Steam predicted, opening the shields leaves us vulnerable to Reaper strikes, their forces streaming in as the MOAB locks into place.
By the time the first Reaper lands on the deck, a female in sexy leather and chains, I’ve equipped Link’s hook shot, item 66, which I use to take out her legs. Figuring I’ll keep things simple, at least for this kill, I hit the AA boost and land on top of her, Bowie knife in hand, as I give the Reaperette a painful yet quick death.
A flying Marauder makes the worst mistake of his life when he tackles me.
My frag grenade, item 80, appears in my hand, and as we struggle, I use my teeth to remove the pin. It takes one hell of a punch, but I manage to punch the grenade into his mouth and kick him off me seconds before his head explodes into a hiss of steam.
Rockette is leaping back and forth on the deck, doing her best Foot Soldier impression as she cuts down Reapers and Marauders. I don’t know what Rocket is telling her, but he checks in with me every now and then to make sure I’m seeing her in action.
“Yeah, I see her, kid!” I say, item 73, my pair of Halo M6Cs, appearing in my hand. Why screw around with a classic? I run forward, Blasty McBlasterface with my two guns blazing. A few headshots, throat shots, and one that gets a Reaper in the gonads reminds anyone watching that while I may talk crude and seem like a dipshit, I’m an expert, an artist, a craftsman, a connoisseur of violence.
Sophia hits a Reaper with a dark, bubbly blast of magic that has the guy ripping off his skull mask. He screams, terror filling his eyes, blood boiling out of his mouth as he falls to the deck of the steamboat.
“Nice shot, Wang!”
“Quantum!” Sophia fires a shot right over my head that stops a Reaper dead in her tracks.
“Thanks!” I say, returning the favor by throwing one of my Halo M6Cs at a Marauder a few feet away from tackling her. I crack the bastard in the dome; Sophia finishes the job with her mutant hack claws, ripping the guy’s steaming throat out.
And that’s when the boom goes boom, the ultimate kablooey, enough TNT to raise Ted Turner from the grave.
The Mother of All Bombs has hit its target.
Fire rages all
around us, and Ray brings the shield around his steamboat to protect us. There are a few poor souls now trapped inside the bubble with us. One of the Reapers logs out. Two of them are filleted by Steampunk, which has me applauding by the time he’s done stripping their limbs from their bodies.
“Bravo! Bravo!” I say with more golf claps.
Ready to see the havoc we’ve wrought, I run to the side of the steamboat to see a frickin’ huge crater below us. The smoke is still clearing, but from what I can tell, we’ve taken out at least three-fourths of the Reaper mechs.
A message flashes that triggers a smile across my face.
Frances Euphoria: Doc and Aiden are in.
~*~
“It’s time for Yours Truly to get down there and clean-up shop,” I tell Steampunk, Sophia, Rockette, and the two Thuleans with the God of Steam.
My snowmobile, item 292, appears in front of me. It’s red, sleek almost like the Akira bike, and boy does it pack a punch.
“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Sophia starts to say.
“Only you can shit you, and I’m not done yet!”
Rocket: Zing!
“Wherever you’re going, I’m going with you,” says Rockette.
Another message from Rocket appears on my pane of vision as I suit up.
Rocket: I’m jelly!
Me: Keep it in your pants, kid, and for once, get as many screenshots as you can.
By the time I’m finished, I’m in my James Bond Spectre snow jacket, item 224; my Tom Ford sunglasses, item 524; I’ve got two machine guns slung over my shoulder, items 247; and my Vityaz-SN, item 320, the last one in my free hand as I steer the snowmobile.
“While you’re getting suited up,” Sophia says, her eyes flashing white, “people are dying down there!”
“And they’ll keep dying just as soon as I land. Dr. Wang, do I comment on your line of work when you’re in the middle of it?”
“What do you mean?”
“Gee, I don’t know. When you’re plugging Evan’s ass up and doing all the science-y stuff. The answer is ‘no.’ I let the expert perform their work; now, I’d appreciate it if you’d do the same! Besides, I need your help.”
Apotheosis Boom (The Feedback Loop Book 8) Page 15