Warwick: Episode 3: Galactic Vangeance

by Mike Ploof

  “What the F?” I said under my breath when I saw the creature who opened the door.

  He was a five-foot-tall bookworm, complete with glasses and a cloth wrapped around most of his smooth, snake-like body, which stood erect in the shape of an S. His head was just like you would expect a sentient five-foot-tall worm’s to be, but he had big brown eyes, small nostrils, a wide, toothless mouth, and two long arms.

  “Oh my, it really is you. Come in, yes, please do come in,” he bade, gesturing.

  The inside of the creature’s office had rounded corners. Even the room was round, except for the floor. Half of it was made of glass and offered a spectacular view of the city, and I wondered what it must look like at night when all the lights are glowing bright.

  “Welcome, Sheriff Harry Warwick from Earth,” said the worm, “My name is Zex Methars Mudd the Nineteenth, Head of the Shadow Core.”

  He extended a hand in human greeting, looking pretty damned pleased with himself for knowing Earth customs.

  I shook his hand, which was four-fingered and clammy. I had the urge to wipe my palm afterward, but I resisted the temptation.

  “Hello, Zex. Shadow Core, eh? Sounds intense.”

  “Oh, it is,” he confirmed with a toothless smile. “Commander, thank you very much for escorting our guests. That will be all.”

  The commander bowed and backed to the door. “Good to meet you,” he said and left.

  “Thanks, bro!” I called after him.

  Zex slithered over to a big metal desk that looked like it was floating, and gestured to a spot in front of it. Three metallic pads floated out from a slit in the wall and parked themselves in front of the desk.

  “Please, rest your bones.” He moved around the desk and laced his fingers, grinning at us.

  I sat down hesitantly, and was surprised when the delicate-looking, concave metal seat held my weight.

  “You can make the check out to cash,” I said, tapping the table.

  “Apologies. The check?”

  “A check is a human form of payment, but good old cash will do as well.”

  “Ah, the reward. Yes, of course.” He opened a drawer and withdrew a small object that looked like a flash drive. “As was promised, your reward.”

  I took it and handed it to Purshia. “How much is it?”

  She plugged it into a slot on her wrist, and her eyes widened. “Fifty million credits.”

  “Those can be spent anywhere, without the need for an account. But if you want one, I can have it set up for you at the Intergalactic Bank of—”

  “That won’t be necessary.”

  “Moving on then. You must be wondering why I wanted to meet you, aside from your notorious celebrity status.”

  “We might be wondering that,” said Ella.

  “The Shadow Core is a department of the HIJ unknown to the general public. We handle situations that warrant immediate action, outside the confining process of law.”

  “A rogue arm of the law. Got ya,” I said.

  “Not rogue, no, but unbound, yes.”

  “Are you here to recruit us?” Purshia asked, never one for dancing around a topic.

  “You are a step ahead of me, good lady. Yes, we would like you to join the Shadow Core.”

  “And do what?” I asked.

  He pointed at the sky. “It would be akin to what you just did, bringing down Vishk and freeing the slaves.”

  “Only it would be under the radar?” said Val.

  “Yes, quite.”

  “Sounds kinda sketchy,” I said. “You want us to take out criminals, right? But who decides which criminals need to die?”

  “The Hall of Justice, which is comprised of representatives from hundreds of planets. When justice cannot be brought to those who deserve it through the usual channels, they turn to us, the Shadow Core.”

  “What’s your offer?” Ella asked.

  “Yeah,” said Purshia. “What’s in it for us?”

  “If you say asylum, I’m out of here,” I said, remembering Gorconn’s and Malagag’s promises.

  “The greys work in many dimensions, but they cannot infiltrate this world.”

  “Why not?”

  “The science behind it is quite exhausting. Suffice it to say this planet is located somewhere in their dimension where they do not like to go. That is what makes this world so special, and that is why, when you are here, you will be safe.”

  “They might not be able to come here, but their henchmen certainly can,” I replied.

  “True, but all of you have proven yourselves capable of dealing with that,” said Zex.

  “What’s this gig pay?” I asked.

  “You would all enjoy a hefty annual salary. You’d be given a bigger ship more suited to your needs and the freedom to do as you please between jobs.”

  “We’ll need some time to think about it,” said Ella.

  I stood, and the girls followed my lead.

  “Take your time,” said Zex. “Meanwhile, please enjoy one of our lavish hotels. The HIJ owns the Nebula, which is not far from here.”

  We were transported to the Nebula, a glitzy skyscraper bustling with rich-looking beings. Our room turned out to be the penthouse, with four bedrooms, a hot tub, and a huge kitchen. A gigantic bathroom offered a shower that was actually fed by a waterfall. I yodeled to see if there was an echo. There was.

  “This makes Malagag’s place look like a shithole,” I said, marveling at the view of the city from the giant window.

  “Ooh, the shower!” Purshia yelled from the bathroom. She ran out naked as a jay bird, giggling. “Who wants to try it out with me?”

  Ella and Val grinned at each other, then started toward the bathroom, stripping off their clothes as they went.

  “Coming, Harry?” Ella asked.

  “You don’t have to twist my arm.”

  We lay in bed that night, watching the incredibly high-definition holograms of galaxies, planets, and stars dance above us. We’d been talking about taking the job, and I could tell the girls were intrigued, although I still had reservations.

  “It felt good freeing the Verithians,” said Purshia.

  “It felt even better kicking Vishk’s ass,” I said with a laugh.

  “We have a chance to make the galaxy a better place,” said Ella.

  “We’d basically be hitmen for the Galactic Council.”

  “What’s wrong with that?” Val asked.

  Purshia snuggled up to me and purred. “Come on, Harry, let’s at least speak with Zex tomorrow and learn more about it.”

  “And what about Zerenity? What about going wherever we want and having no one to answer to?”

  “Zex made it sound like we would have a lot of freedom between jobs,” said Purshia.

  “People who are trying to sell you something make a lot of promises they don’t intend to keep. We might be biting off more than we can chew.”

  In the morning I awoke to Purshia singing in the kitchen, and Ella and Val draped all over me. Purshia was cooking up something delicious, or the food replicator was. Either way, it smelled awesome.

  We ate breakfast, which turned out to be eggs similar to that of chickens, and fried meat that resembled bacon. Purshia loved watching Earth movies, and she had been trying to create food similar to those found on my home planet for me. So far she was doing an amazing job. It was like eating at my favorite corner diner.

  We met with Zex again at the HIJ, and this time someone else was waiting for us. She was a tall, blonde, pink-skinned creature that looked startlingly human, aside from the elf-like ears and large rose-colored eyes.

  “Sheriff, ladies, this is Agent Que,” said Zex. “She has been with us for years and can answer questions about the missions better than I can.”

  She greeted us individually by name. “I have been following your adventures since your amazing performance in the grey’s arena.”

  “Our adventures?” I laughed and shook her hand.

  “You are a
hot topic on many news broadcasts,” she said with a grin. She was a hell of a looker, with a pretty face, lithe body, and legs that went all the way up and then some. She wore a tight dress that fell to her ankles, slit at the side and so low cut, it left little to the imagination.

  “You don’t look like an assassin,” said Purshia.

  “Neither do you.” Que replied.

  “Please, everyone have a seat,” said Zex.

  Que remained standing, and stood at the corner of the desk, hand on hip.

  “What have you decided?” Zex asked me.

  “We’re still on the fence,” I said. “We want to know more about the jobs.”

  “Que?” he said.

  “If you decide to work with us, there would be a trial phase, during which you would be given a mission. Depending on the outcome, we could offer you something more long-term.”

  “What kind of mission?” Ella asked.

  “Until you agree, I cannot give any names at this point, but you would be required to infiltrate the home of a known child-trafficking kingpin and gain sensitive information, after which you would extinguish him.”

  “You mean kill him.” I said.

  “Whichever term you like, dear,” she replied.

  “And why do you need us for this job?”

  “The nanobots implanted in your bodies easily allow you to change your appearance. This shouldn’t be much harder than infiltrating Malagag’s gambling hall.”

  “How do you know about that?” Val asked.

  “We know everything,” said Que.

  I gauged the girls’ reactions; it was clear they wanted to proceed. “We’ll do it. Give us the details.”

  “We thought you might say that,” said Zex. The lights dimmed, and the bookworm pointed at the wall on our left. A screen appeared, and the face of a blue-skinned male appeared. The picture looked like it was taken secretly. “This is Targar Leng, a Finnarian from Vald’Ayr.”

  “Looks like your average criminal mastermind,” I said, inspecting the image. He had what looked like tubular dreads the same shade as his dark blue skin. He was tall, with a big brow that made him look like a Neanderthal, and there were small jutting bumps like horns all over his body and face. His jaw was wider than any human’s I’d ever seen, and his eyes were almost black.

  “He is anything but average,” said Que. “This Finnarian is the kingpin behind the largest slave trade in the galaxy.”

  “If you know that, why don’t you arrest him and put him on trial?” I asked.

  “It isn’t that easy, not with someone like this,” said Que.

  “Targar Leng is responsible for the deaths of numerous judges, politicians, and world leaders,” Zex added. “His reach is great, and his resources greater still.”

  “And you think we can just waltz in and get invited to dinner at his house?” Ella said sardonically.

  “You four have a unique skillset,” said Zex. “I have complete faith in your abilities.”

  “What’s this sensitive information you need us to obtain?” Val asked.

  “Leng keeps meticulous records of everything, written in a unique code which only he can read.”

  “So have it translated by a supercomputer or something,” said Purshia.

  “We intend to,” Zex replied. “But it is important you obtain the records first.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Leng has a cybernetic implant in his frontal lobe, under one of those thorny bumps on his forehead. If anyone attempts to take it out or he is killed, all the files are wiped. That includes the names and locations of thousands of slaves, as well as the names of everyone involved in that market, including dirty politicians, government officials, judges and law enforcement higher-ups, world leaders… this thing runs deep.”

  “Damn, talk about some intergalactic drama,” I said, rubbing my temples.

  “On your world, you were an officer of the law, yes?” Que asked, cocking a thin brow.

  “Yeah, but we didn’t steal people’s property and execute them,” I told her.

  “He’s not dirty Harry,” said Purshia.

  “She’s right,” I admitted. “I don’t like this. Not one bit.”

  “But this man is a slavery kingpin,” said Val, scowling at me. “Who cares about the law?”

  “Whose law?” I asked. “Galactic law? Where you can kill a man without leaving a trail? Doesn’t sound like a good system to me. It sounds like the fucking wild west. There’s a reason we have laws, and why no one, whoever they are, should ever think they are above it, because when that happens, corruption sets in. Then it’s only a matter of time before everything goes to shit.”

  “You are a righteous man, Sheriff Warwick,” said Que.

  “To oblivion with righteousness,” said Zex. “Targar is a disease. He has burrowed his way into the heart of galactic law, and he has thousands of powerful men and women in his pockets. We must dig him out his hole, rip him from the host like the virus he is. If not, his rot will only spread.”

  “I say we kill him and get paid,” said Val.

  “I’ll tell you what,” I said to Zex and Que. “We’ll bring him in alive. It’ll be up to you to figure out how to extract the information without destroying it. Take it or leave it, but hurry the hell up and decide. We’re late for our reservations on Zerenity.

  The bookworm was already shaking his head. “He needs to be killed after the information is obtained.”

  “The HIJ can do whatever the hell they want after I bring him in. You want him dead so bad, you kill him.”

  “Fine!” he snapped, and I frowned.

  “You all right, dog?”

  “Bring him in, but see to it the bastard speaks to no one.”

  We left Zex’s office and took the elevator up to the hangar, where our new ship was supposed to be waiting.

  “What was that all about?” Ella asked me. “You didn’t have any problem killing Malagag.”

  “Yes I did, but I had little choice in the matter. Orcagg had control of our nanobots. Besides, I didn’t technically kill Malagag; he was sucked out of a hole in his escape pod’s hull.”

  “One you put there,” she said.

  I shrugged.

  “How are we going to capture him?” said Val, who seemed annoyed by my apprehension.

  “A well-placed mind control dart will take care of the problem.”

  The hangar smelled like it had been freshly painted, and the spaceships therein shone like brand new Cadillacs.

  After we located our new ship, Purshia let out a long whistle. “Stars fill the void! Look at that beauty.” She ran over and rubbed the chrome fuselage.

  I stood back with Ella and Val, laughing at her antics.

  The ship was impressive, I had to give her that. It shone like molten chrome, and the bright hangar lights made it sparkle.

  “I’m going to call her Metallica,” said Purshia. She was a huge fan of the band; I’d downloaded tons of their music onto my phone.

  “You can’t name our new spaceship Metallica,” I said.

  “Why not?” Purshia asked with a pout.

  “Because… I don’t know. Be original.”

  “We should name it The Terminator,” said Val.

  “Boring,” said Ella.

  “You have a better name?” Val asked.

  “As a matter of fact, I do.”

  “Let’s hear it.”

  Ella smiled at the ship. “We shall name it the Millennium Falcon.”

  I threw up my hands. “I’m naming the ship.”

  “What is its name, Harry?” Purshia begged.

  I touched the hull and stared at its metallic sheen. My reflection was distorted in a dream-like fashion. “I dub thee Metaldick.”

  “Metaldick,” said Purshia in reverence, stroking the glittering hull.

  “Metaldick?” Ella said despondently.

  Val raised her fist, and like a Viking hailing her king, she yelled, “Metaldick!”

 
When she said it like that, the name actually sounded cool. I’d just been fucking around, but the girls glanced at each other searchingly before nodding acceptance.

  The thing didn’t look anything like a dick. It was about two hundred feet wide and shaped like a crescent moon, with a gunnery station at each point. In the center of the concave area was a small globe, which I guessed to be the bridge. It hovered three feet off the ground, purring like a panther ready to pounce.

  “Let’s see what it looks like inside.” Purshia grabbed Ella’s hand and pulled her up the ramp that extended from the craft.

  Val and I followed them up. The ramp led to a circular chamber with a door at each end and various humanoid spacesuits hanging on the walls, I noticed baby-blue panels were scattered on them, giving the colorless interior some soul.

  We took the hall to the right, and the first thing I noticed was the blue LED-like accent lights around every crease and glowing from every crack. The interior was mostly gray, but the lights made it look less drab. The floor was charcoal-colored with speckles of lighter gray. The bottommost three feet of the walls were white, then there was an LED strip, and a transition to gray to the ceiling, which was reflective like the outside of the ship.

  “Love of the moons, look at that engine room,” said Purshia, purring as she stopped at a large window and gazed at the shiny new hyperdrive engine.

  We explored the galley, mess hall, and sleeping quarters, which were practical in design but not as cramped as in our other ship. There was also a large common room with couches and comfortable chairs, as well as numerous holoscreens for entertainment.

  The bridge was semi-circular and faced a large window. It was a sleek and shiny space, with a captain’s chair at the center and six crew stations in front of the window.

  I sat in the captain’s chair, which had a high back and wide arm rests. “I could get used to this,” I said as I leaned back and draped a leg over the side.

  The girls took their places: Purshia at the flight controls, Val at the shield and weapons station, and Ella monitoring the ship’s hyperdrive engine and other vital functions like life support.

  I just sat back and enjoyed the ride.

  No sooner had we been given the all-clear by the control tower than Purshia gunned it. We shot out of the hangar, swerved around skyscrapers, barely missing transport ships that snaked their way through the city. Purshia finally took us into space. Destination: Xteriak 3.