How to Save the Universe with a Drunk Space Ninja

by Jay Key

  “And this degenerate was?”

  “It was me, you ass. You are my flesh and blood. I cared for you, alone, when you were an infant. When I met Trixie, she fell in love with you, as she and I fell in love. We were a family. But knowing my occupation and reputation, I didn’t want anyone to know that you were my son. You would’ve been a target. It was Trixie’s idea for us to make up the story that you were orphaned and she adopted you. We thought it would give you a fighting chance to survive.”

  “So my last name is actually ‘Dallas’?”

  “Yes.”

  Duke scratched his chin as he tried to ignore the bowling ball being manufactured in his stomach. “I’m going to stick with LaGrange, if that’s okay with you.”

  “I think that’s fair.”

  “And who’s my real mother, then? Who abandoned me at birth to be reared by a notorious, deadbeat bounty hunter with the parenting skills of a soggy hush puppy?”

  “That’s a different story for a different time, Duke.”

  Duke stood up and stretched. He was still trying his best to appear unfazed by the news. It was a battle that he knew he couldn’t win in the long term.

  “Look, I know this is a lot to process,” Duke Dallas began. “But I wanted to tell you just in case this is the last time that we see each other.”

  A T’ckuvian, a Broan, and a Sabromm sprinted down the hall and placed themselves between the father and son.

  “Sir,” began the Sabromm.

  “Yes, Jerry.”

  “We’re at the rendezvous point. The other crime lords are wanting to know when we start the attack on Tardasio.”

  The elder Duke turned to his son. “I’m sorry that everything turned out how it did. I’m sorry—”

  “Sir, we need to go,” insisted Jerry.

  Duke Dallas turned back and headed towards the bridge.

  “Dallas,” the younger Duke shouted.

  “Yes?”

  “Sorry about the ‘Father of the Year’ jab.”

  Chapter 7

  An Undeniable Right

  THE PLAN WAS SIMPLE ENOUGH. The bounty hunters would blitz Tardasio 5 with the full strength of their force, hoping to catch the Four I’s napping. The expected retaliation would lead to a pitched space battle and, assuming that the BHU could properly feign retreat to draw the Four I’s away from their home facility, it would leave the main operations relatively unguarded. At this point, the tenuous allegiance of crime lords, gang bosses, and all-round bad hombres would emerge from the shadows of the uninhabited Tardasio 2 and launch a full-scale assault on the weakened hub of the Four I’s. The battle would need to be swift because, as impressive as the BHU-crime lord tandem was, the Four I’s could easily send reinforcements from neighboring systems and create a one-sided affair. With the arms manufacturing facility down and a major blow to the Four I’s central command achieved, the conquered planets would be able to fight back without having to worry about an endless stream of battle cruisers and soldiers sent to squash any rebellions.

  Duke knew the plan could work, barring any creative ideas from the criminal element of the team. He also knew that it would all amount to nothing if Admiral LePaco retrieved the Amplification Key. Unfortunately, at the present, Duke and Ishiro’shea were stationed on Hefty Senchax’s lead battleship at the vanguard of an impending invasion.

  All of the crewmen on the bridge were focused on the task at hand. Duke Dallas wasn’t sitting in the captain’s chair, nor was he even in the captain’s area. He moved from crew member to crew member, reviewing every last detail of the strategy.

  He locked eyes with his son. He smiled. “Glad you two decided to join us up here for the push.”

  Duke didn’t respond. Ishiro’shea bowed slightly.

  “I’m just making sure our preparations are airtight,” Dallas began. “I’m not really a ‘figure it out as I go’ type of guy.”

  Ishiro’shea chuckled. Duke smirked at his co-conspirator.

  “I can make plans and triple-check ‘em if I want to,” Duke whispered to Ishiro. It was met with an exaggerated eye roll.

  “What was that, Duke?” asked Dallas.

  “Nothing. Never mind. What’s the ETA on the attack?” Duke asked in an attempt to change the subject.

  “We’re just waiting for the word from Mama Fong. Once she feels that they’ve pulled the main force away from the planet, we’re up.”

  “And you feel like you can trust these guys?” Duke gestured at the forward screen. “I’m sure Glortos ‘Iron Jaw’ Reebor isn’t super comfortable working with Hefty. Or the Great Poison King of Hyptox, Flaph Goomshoot. Or the Cyclopsian Syndicate. Or—who is that out there? Is that the Gang of the Mystic Saber? How can you trust those nutjobs?”

  Duke Dallas laughed.

  “I don’t trust them at all. But I trust that they understand what would happen to each of us if the Four I’s and Admiral LePaco are allowed to continue doing what they’re doing. I don’t see an alternative.”

  You have no idea what LePaco is doing, old man, thought Duke. He bit his tongue.

  “And they all signed off on their assignments. The Cyclopsian Syndicate is going to hit the facilities in the Southern Hemisphere. With their fleet and the relative size of the planet, that should be easy for them.”

  “They like blowing things up,” noted Duke.

  “Yes, they do.”

  “Goomshoot and Reebor are focusing on the major plant at the northern pole. It’s heavily guarded—too much for one squad, I believe. I figured they have the best chance of working together seeing as they’re related.”

  “And the Sabers?”

  “Since they have the greatest number of ships in their fleet, they’re going to join the BHU and cut off the Four I’s from behind.”

  “And, let me guess, you’ll be leading the run on the Four I’s headquarters outside of Pentos City?”

  “Yes. With the weapons in our fleet, we have the best chance of crippling it.”

  “Good plan. Pretty basic. But good,” concluded Duke.

  Before Dallas could respond, Mama Fong’s face filled the screen adjacent to the forward view. Her three eyes were sparkling. “Great news, Dallas. The Four I’s took the bait. They sent their entire force out to take us down.”

  “Are you outnumbered?”

  “Oh, considerably,” Fong replied, with no less enthusiasm.

  I’ve never seen someone so happy about being overmatched in battle, thought Duke.

  “But they’re leaving the planet?” asked Dallas.

  “In droves. Hold, please.” Fong cut communication.

  The bridge remained silent as they awaited her return.

  Fong’s face reappeared. “Sorry, I had a few on my tail. Anyways, the news of us taking down the Armada Titan must’ve reached Tardasio 5, because they sent the entire cavalry. Right now, it’s some battle cruisers and a few random craft that I haven’t seen before.”

  “No Titans?” blurted Duke.

  The entire crew turned to look at him. Each being flashed what constituted a scowl or grimace, depending on their physiology.

  “Oh, nice to see you again, LaGrange,” said Mama Fong. “No, no Titans yet. I thought we’d see a few guarding the planet. But I’m not going to look a gift narwhal in the mouth.”

  “So are we clear to go?” interjected Duke Dallas anxiously.

  “All clear,” replied the Zylantian bounty hunter. “And good luck, Duke Dallas. I hope that our union proves beneficial and worthwhile.”

  “You and me both, Mama.”

  The Zylantian cut communication.

  Duke Dallas turned his back on the view screen image of Tardasio 2. “It’s time, everyone. I know you’ve each made a good living working under Mr. Senchax. And I also know that this mission falls well outside of your ordinary duties for Hefty, excepting those that he hired specifically for this mission. We wouldn’t be asking this of you if it wasn’t vital to the future of the business. I also thank you for
your trust in me to lead this battle. It will get hairy. Dicey. Messy. It might even appear that the desired outcome can, in no way, happen. But even in the bleakest of moments, stick to the game plan. Follow me. Follow our strategy and we will knock these sons of bitches on their asses.”

  The bridge erupted. Duke turned to see a gleeful Ishiro’shea giving Duke Dallas a thumbs-up.

  “For Hefty!”

  The bridge returned the chant. Noot and Roller let loose primal screams of excitement.

  Sheep, Duke thought. Nothing but a bunch of sheep.

  Duke Dallas composed himself and began to issue directions. “Jerry, put the others on the screens.”

  “Everyone, sir?”

  “Yes.”

  The other criminal kingpins appeared on screens of various sizes. They were all there: the Great Poison King of Hyptox; Iron Jaw; the Illustrious Potentate of the Gang of the Mystic Saber; Professor Krob, Chief Executive Officer of the Cyclopsian Syndicate.

  “We have the green light from the bounty hunters,” Dallas began. “You each know your roles. When we talk again, let’s hope it’s in a universe in which we can still openly lie, cheat, steal, and blackmail—for that one, undeniable right that should be afforded to all beings…”

  Each crime boss leaned in a little closer to the screen, eagerly awaiting the conclusion of Dallas’ speech.

  “…to get filthy rich,” Dallas finished.

  This was the solitary connective tissue that held the motley bunch of scum together. Duke Dallas knew that. His son suspected that the crime bosses would follow the plan as it was laid out… as long as it didn’t seem like the Four I’s were going to win.

  Chapter 8

  The North Pole

  THE CYLINDRICAL VESSEL HOVERED ABOVE the southern continent of Tardasio 5. It looked like nothing more than a floating iron log, drifting in space, as nondescript as an intergalactic spaceship could be. Even the attack squadrons that surrounded it were boring—just miniaturized carbon copies of their prime. But what the vessel lacked in design aesthetics, it made up for in potency—militarily speaking.

  The Cyclopsian Syndicate’s bombing run was efficient and effective, much like their criminal enterprise. The smaller attack craft laid waste to the few tactical targets—a low-orbit cannon, a few missile stations that housed warheads that could likely reach them, a bit of this and that. Then the main ship let loose a bombing fury like no other. In a flash, the facilities in the southern half of Tardasio 5 were wiped from the face of the planet. Total obliteration. There would be no more ship and weapon construction there.

  “The Professor’s hailing,” screamed Jerry, the Sabromm officer. “I’m putting him through.”

  The leader of the Cyclopsian Syndicate, Professor Claudius Krob, appeared on the primary screen. His appearance was in total contrast to Hefty Senchax and most other crime lords; he was well-groomed, for starters. His hair was pristine, his teeth a sparkling white, and he sported a specially-designed monocle with temples to simulate an ordinary pair of two-eyed reading glasses.

  “The mission has been completed,” said the Professor in a soft but commanding tone. Duke noted subtle tones of happiness and appreciation in the Cyclopsian’s voice. It was very odd.

  “Yes, it appears so,” answered Dallas. “We were able to witness most of it. Quite impressive.”

  “Thank you. It was our pleasure to help in this endeavor. We will now proceed to phase two of our responsibilities and assist the Mystic Saber in their efforts. Please pass along my well-wishes to our brothers, Glortos and Flaph, as they attempt to isolate the forces in the North.”

  “I’ll do that, Professor,” replied Dallas.

  The transmission ended.

  Duke LaGrange and Ishiro’shea sat along the back wall of the bridge.

  “You know, Ish, if this raid goes sideways, we’re stuck up here. We’re going down with this thing.”

  The ninja nodded.

  “I never pictured us going out at as prisoners on a criminal’s ship, captained by my biological father, during an attack run on some well-organized middle-management types.”

  It was clear that the ninja agreed with this statement even more.

  “Jerry, patch me through to Reebor and Goomshoot,” ordered Duke Dallas.

  “Together or individually?”

  “Together is fine.”

  The Sabromm plugged away. Within moments two faces appeared on the screen. Two faces that, despite being related in some form or fashion, looked nothing alike.

  Glortos “Iron Jaw” Reebor was familiar to Duke. Before he started his criminal organization, the Glortos Reebor Experience, and was just a lowly thief, Duke and Ishiro’shea had almost brought him in on Oscavia. Unfortunately, Duke let his carnal proclivities cloud his focus, as had many before him on Oscavia, and the weaselly Reebor had slipped off the planet.

  “I can’t believe that pesky fleabag became so successful,” Duke whispered to Ishiro’shea. “To think that we had him in our sights back in the caves.”

  The Irish-Japanese ninja just rolled his eyes.

  “What? You can’t hold that one against me. Anyone in my position, literally that position...” started Duke, but he trailed off as his memory of the event became clearer... and more graphic.

  “What do you want, Dallas?” shrieked the pint-sized Reebor from the view screen. Though he lacked an imposing stature, his voice was amplified enough for him to be mistaken for the hardiest of species. In fact, his nickname of “Iron Jaw” originated from a tale that he took down a Mega-Troll by chomping down on his ankle and not letting go until the behemoth collapsed in exhaustion, pain, and probably a bit of embarrassment. As with many of Reebor’s claims, there had been no witnesses.

  “I don’t have all day, ya’ know,” Reebor smirked.

  “Nice to see you again, Glortos,” Dallas responded. “And you, Flaph.”

  While it was hard for Duke to believe that Reebor had built up a successful organization in spite of his uninspiring physical appearance, it was even harder to believe that Flaph Goomshoot had built up an equally lucrative business in spite of his very limited mental resources. In fact, the menacing moniker that he advertised at every moment possible—the Great Poison King of Hyptox—was rumored to relate less to a strategic dealing of death to a rival and his entire planet of followers, and more to a bit a dumb luck involving a fortuitous missile guidance miscalculation and an unsuspecting ship carrying highly toxic chemicals away from Hyptox’s decomposing moon. His Hyptoxian rivals were never heard from again. The event would go down in history as a shrewd tactical maneuver that was both clever and coldhearted. The ironic fact was that Goomshoot was really neither of those things. No one would ever mistake him for a genius and, in Duke’s interactions with him and his people, he seemed to be a pretty nice guy.

  “Hiya, Dallas. How’s my buddy, Hefty? Still fat?” bellowed Flaph. He followed with a hearty laugh of throaty huffs and puffs. Goomshoot, unlike Glortos, was a behemoth. Bigger than a T’ckuvian, smaller than a Mega-Troll, and looked as if he was carved out of an iron boulder. Even with his colossal frame, his overall demeanor was as fluffy as a bunny dipped in fabric softener. Joke attempts notwithstanding.

  “Yes, he’s still struggling with his weight management,” replied the captain. “I’ll tell him that you asked after him.”

  “Oh, is that you, Glortos? How’s my favorite relative?”

  “Shut up, Flaph,” jabbed Reebor. “The quicker Hefty’s stooge gives us our directions, the quicker we can kill these bastards and get back to what’s important.”

  “Family?” asked Goomshoot.

  Iron Jaw planted his face deeply into his palm. He offered no response to his apparent family member.

  “I can tell that you’re both busy,” interjected Dallas diplomatically, “and, to be honest, our mission has little room for error. So, I’ll get right to it.”

  “Thank the gods,” chimed in Reebor.

  “Professor Krob checke
d in,” said Dallas. “The Cyclopsian Syndicate succeeded in knocking out the southern camps. They’re off to provide support for the Saber and the BHU. Now it’s your turn. Remember the plan?”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” screamed Reebor.

  “Flaph?” asked Dallas.

  “I think so. Yeah, no I got it. I remember.”

  “The pole is heavily guarded but it’s their primary mining station for the ore they use to build their ships, including their Armada Titans.”

  The Nova Texan stood up from the back of the bridge. “And that ore is used as an additive to their fuel supply. We think that’s how their craft can travel so far and so long without refueling.”

  The entire bridge crew looked back at LaGrange.

  “What? It’s true!” he shouted back.

  “Wait a second,” began Reebor. “Is that Duke LaGrange? The bounty hunter?”

  “Yes, Glortos. It’s me.”

  “You work for Hefty now? Now that’s rich. I guess it makes sense.”

  “And why’s that?”

  “You were a pretty lousy bounty hunter.”

  Duke noticed a few giggles amongst the crew.

  “You were lucky on Oscavia, pipsqueak. If that masseuse wasn’t skilled in... Never mind. Anyways, I don’t work for Hefty. It appears that he captured—”

  “He’s a special advisor for this mission,” Dallas interjected. “He has some inside information on LePaco and the Four I’s and accepted our generous offer to aid us.”

  “You’re telling me that this mission was based on LaGrange’s knowledge?” said Reebor with a groan. “Oh, we’re as good as dead.”

  “Gnaw on any good ankles lately, Iron Jaw?”

  “Stop it, both of you,” commanded Dallas. He motioned for Duke to have a seat. “We’re running out of time.”