Starship Grifters (A Rex Nihilo Adventure)

by Robert Kroese

  “If you’re not working for Larviton, what’s your business here?” demanded the sergeant, back on the offensive.

  “I have vital information about the rebels. Information I can only give to Lord Heinous Vlaak himself.”

  “I see,” said the sergeant. “You have information about the Frente Repugnante?”

  “The what?” asked Rex.

  “The rebels,” replied the sergeant, eyeing Rex skeptically. “The ones you claim to have information about.”

  “Right!” said Rex. “The Frente Repugnante. That’s just another name for the rebels. They have so many, you know, I’ve forgotten more of them than most people even know. The resistance. The fifth column. The one you just mentioned.”

  I pulled Sergeant Ricketts aside and spoke quietly into his helmet. “Memory repression,” I explained. “We really do have information about the Frente, but we repressed his memory in case you wanted to torture him.”

  The sergeant nodded. “Can’t say I blame you,” he said. “Lord Vlaak does love to torture.”

  “Between you and me,” I said, “I’m a little disappointed not to have a chance to see him in action. I hear he’s the best.”

  “Oh, he is, absolutely,” agreed Sergeant Ricketts. “I used to think I was a pretty solid torturer, but Vlaak puts me to shame.”

  “If I’m not being too bold,” I said, “what sort of tools does he prefer? Is he an old-school torturer, or does he go in for the newfangled neural manipulators?”

  “It’s not really about the tools with Vlaak,” answered Sergeant Ricketts. “That’s the mistake a lot of people make. Effective torture is all about the anticipation of pain, you know. It’s up here.” He tapped his temple.

  I whistled my low, impressed whistle (as I was still unable to express being impressed with my face). “Man, I envy you guys. It’s like people always say: the Malarchy may have set back the cause of galactic liberty by five hundred years, but they’re artists when it comes to torture.”

  “That’s what I’m always telling people,” said the sergeant. “You gotta take the good with the bad. Say, you seem like you’ve got a real interest in the art of information extraction. We’re always hiring entry-level torturers. Most of the new recruits don’t last very long because of the psychological toll it takes, but if you don’t mind my saying so, as a robot it seems like you’d be a natural fit.”

  I nodded. “Because of the lack of empathy, you mean? Yeah, I’ve thought about it, but I just don’t think I have what it takes to be a real artist, like Vlaak. I’m too mechanical, you know? I’m fine with mid-level stuff, but when it comes to serious extraction work I think the lack of empathy works against you. A guy like Vlaak, he knows what he’s doing is evil and he does it anyway, you know? As a quasi-sentient robot, I just can’t compete with that.”

  “Hmm,” he said, appraising Rex, who was impatiently waiting for us to finish our conference. As Rex had only a vague idea of what it was we were doing here, he had evidently decided to leave the talking to me for once. “So, what are you guys into?” the sergeant asked.

  “A little of this, a little of that,” I replied. “Right now we’re working on selling out the rebellion to cover some gambling debts, which is why we need to talk to Vlaak.” I shrugged. “It’s a living, I suppose.”

  “All right,” he said. “I’ll see what I can do about getting you an audience with Lord Vlaak. And I can’t promise anything, you understand, but there’s always the chance he’ll want to torture your boss anyway. Just recreationally, I mean.”

  Sergeant Ricketts brought us to meet Heinous Vlaak a couple of hours later. He was seated on something like a throne and flanked on either side by a member of the elite Malarchian Special Guard. The sergeant remained standing at attention behind us. “Hey!” shrieked Vlaak upon seeing me. “You’re the robot who still owes me a screwdriver and some Proust.”

  “Yes, Your Lordship,” I said. “And while I’m afraid I can’t give you either of those things at present, my master and I can offer you something arguably better.”

  Vlaak turned up his nose. “If it isn’t Balzac and a Bloody Mary, I don’t want to hear about it.”

  Rex stepped forward. “How about the coordinates of the rebel base, Lord Vlaak?”

  “And who might you be?” demanded Vlaak.

  “Rex Nihilo, at your service,” said Rex, holding out his hand.

  Vlaak ignored the gesture. “You claim to know the location of the rebel base?”

  “No,” replied Rex. “But my assistant here does. And she’ll provide that information to you in exchange for a mere two billion Malarchian standard credits.”

  “Two billion credits!” Vlaak squealed, and then broke into a theatrical laugh that culminated in an asthmatic bout of wheezing. Some five minutes later, after taking several shots from an inhaler and drinking a glass of water, he continued. “Tell me, Mr. Nihilo, are you really deluded enough to think that this little plan of yours would work?”

  “Don’t answer that, Sasha,” Rex whispered to me. “I think it’s a trick question.”

  “I have a counteroffer,” said Vlaak. “Give me the plans for the rebel cloaking device and I’ll let you live.”

  “I think we both know my life isn’t worth . . .” Rex started. “Wait, how do you know about that?”

  Vlaak threw his head back as if to start laughing again but evidently thought better of it. “Guards! Bring me our other guest.”

  Another guard entered the room, prodding in front of him a man with tousled hair and cuffed wrists: it was Wick Azores.

  “Uh-oh,” said Rex.

  “Wick!” I exclaimed. “What happened?”

  “I stowed away on your ship again. General Issimo told me to find out where you were going.”

  “What have you told them?”

  “I’m sorry!” he cried. “They tortured me!”

  I shot a dirty look at Sergeant Ricketts, who shrugged apologetically.

  “What did they do to you, son?” said Rex, suddenly full of fatherly concern.

  “I had nothing to eat . . . they wouldn’t let me sleep . . . I had no contact with the outside world . . .”

  “We’ve only been here for two hours, Wick,” I said.

  “It’s the sleep deprivation,” Wick protested. “I’ve lost all sense of time.”

  “You betrayed the rebellion, Wick,” Rex said, shaking his head sadly. “And for what, a few hundred million credits?”

  Wick’s brow furrowed. “Huh?”

  “How much did you get from them? I figure we’ll split it three ways. Sasha can’t legally take possession of her share, of course, so I’ll hold it for her. And of course I’ll have to deduct transportation costs from your share.”

  “I don’t think he got anything,” I said to Rex as gently as I could. “He just gave the rebels up for free.”

  For a moment I thought Rex was going to pass out. His eyes glazed over and he sunk to his knees, hyperventilating. “For . . . free . . .” he mumbled, as if the words were an arcane curse in a long-forgotten language.

  “OK,” I said. “Where does this leave us? Wick told you all about the rebel base, I take it.”

  “I know everything,” Vlaak crowed. “I even know about the cloaking facility in Schufnaasik Six City. All I need from you is the plans for the cloaking device. Or, if you prefer, you can give me the coordinates of Schufnaasik Six City. We’ve scanned the planet, but our sensor detected no structures whatsoever. It seems I’ve underestimated the Frente. Your cloaking technology is truly remarkable. And once I have it, the Malarchy’s domination of the galaxy will be complete!”

  Rex was on his hands and knees now. He had pulled his shirt over his head either in an attempt to treat his hyperventilation or to block out reality altogether.

  “Funny story,” I said. “The cloaking device faci
lity doesn’t actually exist. That’s why you don’t see anything on the planet. Rex made up the whole thing. He was trying to scam money out of the rebels, but then he decided selling them out to you was the more lucrative course of action.”

  A puzzled look came over Wick’s face. For a moment Heinous Vlaak said nothing. Rex continued to tremble on the floor.

  Then Vlaak erupted into laughter again. When his wheezing had abated, he said, “Nice try, robot. But you rely too heavily on the reputed credibility of your kind. Clearly your factory settings have been overridden to allow you to tell such absurd prevarications. I should have you melted down to slag.”

  Wick seemed relieved to hear that I had been lying, but I persisted. “I haven’t been hacked, Lord Vlaak. As you say, I am unable to tell a lie, and I swear that I’m telling you the truth. There’s no point in killing us over the cloaking device because the cloaking device doesn’t exist. We have no useful information for you beyond what Wick here has already provided.”

  “Cease your lies, robot!” shrieked Vlaak. “I will give you one more chance. Give me the plans for the device or be destroyed!”

  “No,” growled Rex, pulling himself unsteadily to his feet.

  “No?” said Vlaak. “You dare say no to me? I will have you killed!”

  “Kill me and you’ll never get the plans for the cloaking device,” Rex said. “The plans are hidden in the facility in Schufnaasik Six City, and you’ll never find the city as long as it’s cloaked. You’ll have to scour every kilometer of the planet. Even if you send every scout bot you have to Schufnaasik Six, it will take you weeks. Plenty of time to disassemble the facility and move it somewhere else.”

  “I see,” said Vlaak, tapping his fingertips together. “What do you propose, then?”

  “Same deal as before. Two billion credits for the location of Schufnaasik Six City.”

  Vlaak sighed. “I tire of this.” He tapped a button on his armrest. “Helmsman, rationalize a course for Schufnaasik Six.”

  “Yes, Lord Vlaak,” came a voice.

  Rex chuckled. “And what do you plan to do when you get there?”

  Vlaak grinned. “I’m going to destroy the planet.”

  “Um,” replied Rex. “Even if you could do that, which I doubt, you’d be throwing away your chance to get your hands on the most powerful technology in the galaxy.”

  “The most powerful technology in the galaxy,” Vlaak replied, “is this Peace Fortress. You may have noticed my fancy new weapon on your way in. It’s called the plasmatic entropy cannon. Capable of destroying an entire planet. It doesn’t matter where your hidden city is; if it’s anywhere on the planet, it will be vaporized!”

  “Well, that will definitely set us back a bit,” agreed Rex, “but wouldn’t you rather have the technology for your own use rather than just destroying it? Perhaps in exchange for two billion credits?”

  Vlaak smiled again. “Frankly, I don’t believe the only copy of the plans for the cloaking device is on Schufnaasik Six. I think you’ve got another copy squirreled away somewhere, probably in the memory of your robot sidekick here. And I think you might just give me that information in exchange for sparing your planet.”

  “Not a chance,” said Rex. “As much as I love my planet, my offer stands. Two billion credits for the location of Schufnaasik Six City.”

  “Then I believe we have nothing more to discuss,” said Vlaak. “Sergeant, take these men and the robot to their quarters. I hope, Mr. Nihilo, that while we are en route to your planet, you will take some time to reconsider your decision.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Oh man, this is great,” Rex cackled, once we were back in our quarters. The room seemed more oppressive now that Wick had joined us.

  “Sir,” I replied, “I’m concerned that you’ve misjudged our circumstances. You do realize that Vlaak is going to use the plasmatic entropy cannon to destroy Schufnaasik Six, and that afterward he will once again threaten to kill us if we don’t turn over the plans for the cloaking device? And that, as it’s impossible for us to turn over the plans on account of their not existing, we are almost certainly going to be killed?”

  “I’ll grant you there are a few details to be ironed out,” Rex said. “But overall, I think things are going fantastically well. And it’s all thanks to our friend Vic.” He slapped Wick on the back.

  “Um, thank you, sir,” said Wick uncertainly.

  “If he hadn’t convinced His Indolence Lord Vlaak that we have a working cloaking device, we’d still be haggling over a paltry couple billion credits. Can you imagine?”

  I couldn’t even begin to determine the appropriate response to that. Wick was even more befuddled. “Mr. Nihilo, are you saying there isn’t really a cloaking device?”

  “Of course there is, Vic!” Rex exclaimed, slapping Wick on the back again. “I couldn’t very well sell something that doesn’t exist, could I? Now, if you don’t mind, maybe you could go lie down for a bit while I confer with my assistant.”

  Wick nodded and did as instructed.

  “I can see you’re confused, Sasha,” he said to me quietly. “Allow me to explain. Do you remember the Battle of Zondervan?”

  “Of course,” I replied. “The rebels had set up a refueling station on the desert planet of Zondervan, which is, of course, mostly forest. They were assisted by a local race of furry humanoids, the Beebers. When the Malarchy found out about it, they burned down every forest on the planet with incendiary bombs. The Beebers that lived through the bombing were killed for their pelts. Vlaak’s cape is made out of six of them.”

  “Right,” said Rex. “And then what?”

  “What do you mean, ‘and then what’? They torched the entire planet! The only ones who made out OK were a handful of Beebers living off-world who . . . oh.”

  “Now you get it,” said Rex, grinning. “Pretty great, right?”

  I had to admit his plan was brilliant in a typically psychotic Rex Nihilo way. The surviving Beebers had applied to the Malarchy’s Galactic Development Fund for money to rebuild their planet after the firebombing, raking in some ten billion credits in grants and loans. The planet still remained a blackened husk of its former self for the most part, but the two dozen or so remaining Beebers lived very, very well two hundred light-years away on the paradise planet of Selantro (which bucked Malarchian bureaucratic standards by actually living up to its appellation).

  “I never understood why they do that,” I said. “Why completely destroy a planet and then spend a fortune to rebuild it?”

  “It’s just the way governments work,” answered Rex. “If they don’t wreck stuff periodically, there wouldn’t be much for them to do. And if they stopped doing stuff, people would realize they’re better off without them. It takes a massive, well-funded bureaucracy to solve problems caused by a massive, well-funded bureaucracy. The point is, now that the Malarchy have this new piratical antelope cannon, they can wreck a planet a hell of a lot faster. We’ll come up with a sob story about all the ancient monuments and libraries and karaoke bars they wiped out and ask for twenty billion credits to rebuild everything. The checks will be made out to a trust for the people of Schufnaasik Six, to be administered by the planetary government, which is to say, me. In six months I’ll be the richest man in the galaxy.”

  “But Vlaak is still going to kill us,” I reminded him.

  “Like I said,” he replied, “some of the details need to be ironed out. It’ll take us a couple of days to get to Schufnaasik Six, so I’ve got plenty of time to think.”

  “Mr. Nihilo,” said Wick from his bunk. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure, Vic. What’s up?”

  “After Heinous Vlaak destroys your planet, is he going to destroy the forest moon of Akdar?”

  “I would assume so, yes.”

  “And that’s my fault, right?”

  �
��Well, yes, technically,” replied Rex. “But I was going to give Vlaak the coordinates to the moon anyway, so I wouldn’t beat yourself up about it. And frankly, it’s not like the Frente ever stood much of a chance. A bunch of amateurs huddled together in a car park on some backwater ball of muck aren’t really a serious threat to the Galactic Malarchy.”

  “I suppose not,” said Wick. “But maybe if we had the cloaking device . . .”

  I couldn’t help feel a little bad for Wick. “A cloaking device wouldn’t help much if the plasmatic entropy cannon is as powerful as Vlaak indicates,” I said. “If you had the cloaking device you could hide the base, but you can’t hide an entire planet. All the Malarchy have to do is vaporize the surface of every planet where they think rebels might be hiding. I hate to admit it, but Rex is correct. The Frente never stood a chance. We might as well get our money and get out while we can—assuming Rex can figure out a way to keep Vlaak from killing us.”

  “I’ll figure it out,” snapped Rex. “I just need some time to think. If you two would shut up for—”

  “Hey, what is that?” I asked. I had noticed a high-pitched buzzing sound coming from somewhere outside the cabin. It sounded unnervingly familiar. Rex, apparently having noticed it too, cocked his head to the side. The noise was getting louder.

  “It almost sounds like . . .” he started.

  “It can’t be,” I said. “On a Malarchian battle station? They must have security mechanisms . . .”

  The noise was punctuated by shouting and a series of explosions.

  “What was that?” asked Wick, suddenly frightened.

  “Security mechanisms,” replied Rex, opening the door to the corridor. The guard wasn’t there. Rex was on the verge of peeking out the door, but a blizzard of lazegun beams across the corridor caused him to rethink this course of action. “Sasha, take a look,” he instructed.