by Jay Key
Praise for The Adventures of Duke LaGrange Series
A raucous new kind of action hero—Flash Gordon, Jack Burton, and Buckaroo Banzai got nothing on Duke LaGrange.
Marcus Muller, comic artist (King of the Unknown)
For goofy grown up pulp readers and sci-fi geeks, it’s as much fun as a Pan-Galactic Gargle Blaster.
Frank R. Sjodin, pulp author and 2017 Audio Verse Award winner
[W]itty, fast-paced…[an] imaginative style of writing.
Readers’ Favorite
Other Books in The Adventures of Duke LaGrange
By Jay Key
How to Pick Up Women with a Drunk Space Ninja
(Book I)
How to Win at Pit Fighting with a Drunk Space Ninja
(Book II)
How to Save the Universe with a Drunk Space Ninja
(Book III)
How to Save the Universe with a Drunk Space Ninja
The Adventures of Duke LaGrange, Book III
Jay Key
How to Save the Universe with a Drunk Space Ninja by Jay Key. Published by Star Wheel Books. © 2018 Jay Key. © 2018 Star Wheel Books.
www.StarWheelBooks.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permissions contact: [email protected].
For information about special discounts available for bulk purchases or media coverage, contact [email protected].
Edited by Tim Major. Proofread by Sasha Grossman. Cover illustration by Vojislav Vasiljevic. Book formatting by Vellum. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
ISBN 978-1-7326590-7-0 (paperback) ISBN 978-1-7326590-6-3 (e-book) ISBN 978-1-7326590-8-7 (hardcover)
First edition.
To Finley, may your imagination take you to worlds as yet undiscovered.
Contents
1. T'ckuvu Prime
2. The Truth, in Moderation
3. Hefty and the Booze Man
4. You Stupid Orb
5. Shockingly Sound
6. A Chat
7. An Undeniable Right
8. The North Pole
9. A Shut Window
10. The Luckiest Man Alive
11. They're Going Where?
12. Whisky Cake
13. Back to School
14. The Master
15. The Traveler
16. Kiss My Ass-teroid
17. We Are All Blop
18. Everywhere's a Death Trap
19. The Treaty
20. Hope
21. Kill Them All!
22. Duck and Weave
23. Maxx and The Earthers
24. Phase Two
25. A Queen and Her Portal
26. A Queen and Her Even Bigger Portal
27. I Gave You That Knife
28. Inter-Dimensional Doomsday Device
29. Ninety-Nine
30. Sand
31. Of Penguins and Blenders
32. Another Round of Whisky
33. Welcome to Cyborg Joe’s... Again
34. That Primitive Rock
About the Author
Our most precious resource is hope.
Queen Joe
Chapter 1
T'ckuvu Prime
THE LIGHTS OF T’CKUVU Prime could be seen from any other planet in the T’ckuvu System; it was a testament and a symbol to the economic boom that the planet had experienced over the last twenty cycles. From orbit, even the keenest observer would be hard pressed to find a solitary patch of rock or grass or water or anything natural. It was an industrial sphere created by business dealings and inflated interest, floating amongst its more imposing but far less colorful brethren. Of course, in Prime’s case—“Prime” being the colloquial title used on the planet itself—the business dealings were all shady, the inflated interest was all maliciously manufactured, and the economic boom was another phrase for takeovers by too many criminal syndicates to count. The cloud-piercing structures springing up out of the metallic jungle and neon sea of Prime could not mask the grim reality of the planet’s foundation: bloodthirsty, egotistical, megalomaniacal crime lords and gang bosses. It was both a gorgeous visualization of what beings could accomplish with grit, determination, and ingenuity, and a grimy cesspool of malice, cruelty, and greed.
Surprisingly, Duke LaGrange didn’t care too much for T’ckuvu Prime. Even he had standards.
The Nova Texan bounty hunter and his Japanese-Irish ninja companion, Ishiro’shea, had been on the planet for roughly a week and were no closer to their goal of locating Ishiro’shea’s parents. On the positive side, there had been no major advancements by the universe’s most wanted fugitive, Admiral Lothario LePaco, and his following of bureaucratic battalions known as the Four I’s—Intergalactic Infrastructure Improvement, Incorporated. During their frequent communications with Queen Joe on Kelt, there had been no evidence of a single sighting of LePaco’s salmon-colored spacecraft with the license plate that read “Mister Macho.” Nor had there been any sightings of Duke’s former lover, the assassin Mazilda Cloax. Nobody had been able to confirm whether she had even survived the Battle of Kelt; but Duke had a hunch that she was still alive. Until it was discovered that she was actually an accomplice of the admiral, this uncertainty would have been a pretty hard pill to swallow; now he was hoping that his hunch was wrong.
Duke and Ishiro’shea had spent their time on T’ckuvu Prime investigating the whereabouts of Ishiro’s parents, but they had produced no worthwhile results. They had arrived with no leads and, a week later, they were still without hope. They did their best to avoid attracting the attention of the crime bosses, so brothels and casinos were out of the question, much to Duke’s chagrin. The bounty hunters stuck primarily to the establishments that were known throughout the cosmos as the most trusted fountains of knowledge and wisdom and a haven of loose-lipped unknowing informants—the bars.
T’ckuvu Prime’s list of bars was lengthy and unrivaled in the sector. There was a drinking establishment for every type of consumer—from dingy and discreet dens to celebrity hangouts to refined lounges for the sophisticated drunkard; and every type of theme or fetish—from a bar that catered to left-handed accountants to one that only served liquids derived from planets that have four moons to a particularly eccentric pub that required its patrons to chase every drink with the Zylantian treat of never-ending mayonnaise. Despite sampling the unique array of alcoholic delicacies of T’ckuvu Prime, it had been an entirely fruitless enterprise. Except for the juice bars.
“Are you sure we haven’t been down this one before, Ish?” Duke complained. “These alleys are starting to merge together.”
The mute ninja shook his head with certainty.
“I don’t see much down this way, little buddy. Anything from the Queen?”
Ishiro’shea shook his head again.
“You know, I still can’t believe they found the Four I’s main manufacturing planet. Finally a win for us good guys. I was hoping we’d get some more updates on that by now. And, of course, it’s in the Tardasio System. You think Sol brokered anything in that deal?”
The ninja didn’t respond, his focus solely on the narrow concourse in front of them.
“I bet he did,” Duke mumbled to himself.
They traversed the alley, and the deeper they j
ourneyed, the less they were showered with the electric lights of advertisements and marquees that littered this particular district. The corridors grew so dark that it was almost hard to tell that they were still on T’ckuvu Prime, which wasn’t an easy effect to achieve.
Ishiro’shea stopped and pointed up at a dilapidated sign that hung by a single chain from a brick wall. It read “Booze.”
Simple yet effective, thought Duke.
Under the sign was a shallow recess, within which was an unremarkable door. The door was beaten up pretty badly but Duke wasn’t sure if the dings, dents, and bruises were from the natural wear and tear of time or from the crashing heads of patrons that were no longer welcome at the establishment. There was no handle.
“I guess we just... knock?”
The Nova Texan tapped the door gently with the back of his index finger.
Nothing.
He repeated the action with slightly more force.
Nothing.
He then rapped it with a fist.
A wisp of air grazed Duke’s nose, causing the bounty hunter to jump back into the alleyway. Ishiro’shea, equally as close to the falling debris, did not move a single muscle, remaining in place with the poise of a statue. The sign hit the ground and splintered into pieces of various sizes. The chain swung back and forth, continually clinking against the wall.
The door opened slightly, enough for the occupant of the bar to speak without being seen.
“What do you want?”
The voice was aged and gruff, lathered in a lifetime of drink and bad decisions.
“What do you want?” the voice repeated.
“Excuse me, my good man,” Duke began, “my colleague and I were in the neighborhood and were looking for a place to enjoy a drink or two. Your fine establishment sprung to mind. We...”
“Nope.”
The door shut with a jarring twang.
“That went well,” Duke said to Ishiro’shea.
He knocked again. The door opened again, still only slightly ajar.
“Just in case the door being slammed in your faces didn’t get the point across… go away!” the voice roared.
“Is this not a bar?” asked Duke.
“It is.”
“So why can’t we come in and have a drink? That is what typically occurs in a bar,” the bounty hunter replied smugly.
“Not this bar. I drink in this bar. A few select folks can drink in this bar. But not you, I’m afraid. Goodbye.”
Duke’s boot prevented the door from closing.
“Old timer, can we at least chat through this?” pleaded Duke. “We aren’t here to cause trouble, we just want a drink.”
The man was still not visible despite Duke holding the door open with his foot. There was no sign whatsoever of light within the establishment.
“Your foot being in my door says that you aren’t opposed to some trouble,” countered the mysterious doorman. “Feel free to go and register a complaint with the authorities if you wish. I’m sure they’ll show you a lot of attention for such a heinous act.”
“What are you doing in there that’s so secretive?”
“Maybe this is an exclusive club of local celebrities and VIPs. And you, as far as I can tell, don’t mean anything to anyone of consequence. So, you can go now.”
Ishiro’shea tugged Duke’s arm and motioned back toward the main drag.
“No, wait a second, Ish. He’s lying through his teeth, if he has teeth. Are you a racist? Don’t feel like serving drinks to an Earther and a Nova Texan?”
The force on Duke’s boots lessened immediately.
“Nova Texan, you say?” the man asked, his tone now inquisitive.
“Yes, Nova Texan.”
“Haven’t met someone from there in quite some time.” The voice softened, as if he was talking to himself. “Earthers, on the other hand, I see them all the time. But Nova Texas. Interesting.”
“So can we come in and have a drink?” asked Duke. “It would be an honor. I don’t think I’ve ever had so much trouble getting in to a bar.”
The voice didn’t reply but the door swung open to reveal a pitch-black hallway.
Duke looked at Ishiro’shea and shrugged. “We’ve gone into darker places.”
“Are you coming or not?” howled the voice behind the door. “If you are, hurry up, and shut the door behind you.”
Duke and Ishiro’shea ducked beneath the dangling chain to enter the lightless concourse.
“I wonder if they have any good happy hour specials.”
Chapter 2
The Truth, in Moderation
THERE WAS A LIGHT AT the end of the tunnel, or in this case, the corridor. It wasn’t a particularly nice bar but it had a few places to sit and, as the sign claimed, booze. Duke and Ishiro’shea wiped away stagnant dust that had collected on the barstools and took their seats. The counter was worn and not overly clean, likely one step above failing inspection.
So far, so good, thought Duke.
The doorman walked behind the bar and tied an apron around his waist. He was a burly humanoid, barrel-chested with forearms the size of most Earthers’ legs. His face showed his age; cracks made barren tributaries around his nose and mouth. Despite his advanced age, it was clear that he had been a handsome man in his youth. Strands of silver hair covered his head and matching stubble dotted his jawline.
“What’ll you have?” he said, his back to his newest patrons.
“Dealer’s choice,” responded Duke.
The man plucked two bottles from below the bar, removed their caps, and slid them over to the bounty hunters. His knuckles cracked with every movement.
“Local brews. Good old-fashioned ale. Would rival anything they brew over on Glyptodia, I reckon.”
“That’s high praise, old timer,” Duke responded.
He and Ish inhaled the beer. Duke choked. “Wow. That’s... that’s different,” he coughed. “Are you sure you meant Glyptodia Glyptodia?”
“Yeah,” the man snarled.
“I think they may have made some advancements in brewing technology since you last ventured out there, my good man.”
“Or you’re a giant pansy that can’t handle a man’s beer. Probably prefer a martini, eh?”
Ishiro’shea chuckled under his breath but all Duke could do was think about the Queen’s famous martini. Even this calloused throwback would have to admit the tastiness of that concoction. Duke took another sip.
“Better the second time around,” he replied, trying to save face.
“Right, stranger.”
Duke and Ishiro’shea continued to down the T’ckuvian ale, one cautious sip after the next. Only a few customers were present in the single room: two T’ckuvian locals sat in a dimly-lit corner, a pint-sized Broan occupied the barstool closest to the far wall chomping on snack nuts, and another customer was asleep on the floor. Duke couldn’t pinpoint the heritage of the downed drunkard, nor could he confirm that he was just asleep.
Best to let sleeping or possibly deceased unidentified aliens lie, thought Duke.
“So tell me, gents, why were you so eager to visit my humble dive here, even after I made it clear that I didn’t want your business?” asked the bartender.
“Yeah, what was that all about?” replied Duke. “Who refuses business? Especially on T’ckuvu Prime.”
“I do. And that will suffice for now.”
“Anonymity, now that is very T’ckuvu Prime,” responded Duke.
The bartender leaned in, his forearms resting on the uneven counter. “I repeat, why did you guys want to come in here? I don’t think you’re food and drink critics for the Prime Gazette. I don’t owe anyone as much as a single damn T’ckuvian credit. I’m paid up on this place. I’m paid up on taxes. I haven’t killed anyone in years.”
In years?
“I’m sure you run a clean operation here,” said Duke. “And we damn sure aren’t in the bar and restaurant review ring. That racket is beneath even us.”
The incessant nature of the bartender’s questioning placed the bounty hunters in a quandary. Duke didn’t have a suitable cover and mentioning their true mission was risky. What if this crotchety old drink peddler was aligned with a crime lord? That would essentially guarantee his hatred of bounty hunters and would likely make him a tad curious as to why these two strangers were braving the urban minefield of T’ckuvu Prime to find two missing persons. Or, even worse, what if he had a partnership with LePaco? It was a stretch, admittedly, but LePaco’s reach was not only wide but also diverse when it came to associates and accomplices.
The truth it is, then, concluded Duke. In moderation, of course.
“We’ve been on T’ckuvu Prime for some time now,” Duke began.
“What’s some time? A few cycles?” questioned the bartender.
“No, more like a week.”
“Oh.” The old man looked unimpressed.
“Hey, it’s a dangerous mission that we’re on,” Duke fired back.
“I’m sure. Did a little girl lose her precious kitty cat? Is it up in a tree?”