by Jake Bible
“I’ve had you scanned, so you’re not snooping,” Lisha said, considering Rage’s question. “But I’m not sure you’re ready for the full truth. Could shatter that tightly wound soldier mind of yours.”
“Lady… Lisha, I’ve seen shit that’d make your perfect hair turn white and fall out. My mind can handle anything you throw at me.”
“I know where God is,” Lisha said and waited.
Rage chewed on that statement for a few seconds. “God? As in the God?”
“Well, no,” Lisha admitted. “But, it is a god. My last husband was part of a secret Charbeshun sect originally created to tend to the god’s needs and wants. I actually had no idea until a couple weeks ago. Most of my husbands end up simply boring as hell, and Frankfurt was no exception.”
“I’m sorry, did you say his name was Frankfurt?” Rage asked.
“That is the Earth translation,” Lisha said, waving Rage’s question away. “Even being part of a secret god-worshipping and maintenance sect, Frankfurt was a snooze fest. Until last week. He was constantly agitated and snapping at me. Then he left our home for Earth and I followed. He was dead before I could find out what was wrong. Now I’m fleeing home before Earth Corp can pin his death on me and keep me in perpetual detention. They’ll stop at nothing to find out the location of the god.”
“Why?”
“Wouldn’t you want to know where a god lives?”
“Not really. Every story I’ve read about gods, they’re a bunch of dicks and twats looking out for themselves at the expense of us mortals.”
“Fair enough. But what about the power they might possess? The power maybe they might share with us mere mortals?”
“Lisha. Look at me. I’m not lacking in power.”
“I don’t mean muscles and strength and bulletproofness. I mean real power. Cosmic power.”
“Meh.”
“You are one strange man,” Lisha said. “I’ve never met anyone like you. How can you not care about true cosmic power?”
“Everything comes with a price, Lisha. Everything. I’ve gotten used to who I am, what I am, and where I am. Cosmic power sounds like a lot of hassle and trouble.”
Lisha leaned forward. “Exactly. Which is why you are here. Did you think I need you to simply escort me home?”
“No. That’s why I keep asking questions.” Rage smirked. The smirk slid from his face as he caught up with what Lisha was saying. “Right. We’re going to your home to prep for what? A god hunt?”
“No need to hunt the god. I know exactly where she is,” Lisha said. “We’re prepping for a god heist, Max. I need you by my side when I steal that beautiful creature and make her my very own. Screw the husband game, I’m in the god game now.”
Rage scratched at his cheek, one eyebrow arched. He sighed.
“Never stolen a god before. Should be interesting,” Rage said.
“Oh, it will be,” Lisha said then smiled broadly as a bot dressed in chef’s whites appeared at the lounge door.
“Dinner, my lady, is served,” the bot said.
“Thank you, Cook,” Lisha replied. “We’ll be in shortly.”
“Cocktails with dinner, my lady?” Cook asked.
“I believe martinis are in order,” Lisha said. “Max? Do you like martinis?”
“They have booze in them, so yeah, I like martinis,” Rage replied.
“Two pitchers of martinis, Cook. Thank you.”
Lisha stood and smoothed out her skirt.
“Shall we, Max?” she asked.
Rage stood. “Lead the way.”
Eight
The martinis were the best Rage had ever had. The food was the best Rage ever had.
The company wasn’t too bad either. Rage had to warn himself not to get too comfortable with his situation. A woman like Lisha would sense his guard going down and that would be when she struck. He had no idea why she’d strike since she needed him, but he’d read the old parable of the frog and the scorpion and knew a scorpion like Lisha wouldn’t be able to help herself.
A scorpion’s gonna scorpion and all that lesson learned shit.
Speaking of, Rage kept his eyes on the serving bots that filtered in and out of the dining room. He hadn’t seen a single living being since he’d stepped on Lisha’s ship. That worried him. Living beings had one weakness: fear of death. Bots? Not so much.
“I have trust issues,” Lisha said as she pushed her half-finished crème brûlée away and picked up her second personal pitcher of martinis and poured another glass. She grinned at Rage. “I’ve watched you clock the bots all night, Max. Not hard to guess what you’re thinking.”
“And what am I thinking?” Rage asked.
“Whether or not the bots have tactical and security programming,” Lisha replied with confidence.
“Do they?”
“Of course.”
“And the rest of the crew?”
Lisha grinned.
“You only have bots? No living crew members?” Rage asked.
“Bots can’t be corrupted,” Lisha said.
“They can be hacked,” Rage countered.
“Not my bots. You do not get where I am in life by leaving loopholes for your enemies to exploit.”
“All bots can be hacked,” Rage said with confidence. “Eventually, they turn on you.”
“Not my bots,” Lisha reiterated.
“I wouldn’t rely on that assumption,” Rage said. “I have yet to see a bot that can’t be hacked.”
“You’ve seen more than a couple this evening,” Lisha said. “I know you don’t believe me, but try to have an open mind. My bots can’t be hacked and they will never turn on me.”
“Whatever you want to tell yourself,” Rage said then nearly licked his own crème brûlée cup clean.
“You can have seconds on dessert, if you’d like, Max,” Lisha said.
“Nah. Too much sugar makes me cranky.”
“How can you tell?” Lisha teased.
A bot dressed in a crew’s uniform rolled into the dining room. “My lady? I believe we have a situation.”
“Max, meet my head of security. I call him Watchdog,” Lisha said.
“Hey,” Rage said.
Watchdog ignored Rage and addressed Lisha only. “There is a ship approaching from the starboard side. It is moving rather quickly and will be on us within the half hour.”
“What kind of ship?” Rage asked. Watchdog said nothing. “Lisha? Care to order your bot to talk to me? Gonna make my job hard if I have to use you as an intermediary.”
“Intermediary is a big word for a muscle bunch like you,” Watchdog said.
“You install the sarcasm protocol or did he come pre-programmed?” Rage asked.
“Watchdog is his own bot and can download whatever personality protocols he feels like downloading,” Lisha said. “As long as he is 100% loyal to me.”
“Which I am, my lady,” Watchdog said. “Should I start addressing the muscle bunch when he addresses me?”
“What’s with the muscle bunch crap?” Rage snapped.
“You have a bunch of muscles and not much else,” Watchdog replied. “Was that explanation simple enough for you to understand? Or should I have pictures drawn?”
“Will the pictures include illustrations of me kicking your metal ass? If so, then yeah, draw that shit up, Bolt Butt.”
“Max. Watchdog. Both of you behave,” Lisha said. “What is this ship? Has Earth Corp decided to make a play already?”
“It is not an Earth Corp ship, my lady,” Watchdog said. “The ship has no transponder codes nor discernible markings that can provide identification.”
“Got a picture of the ship?” Rage asked, standing up. He tossed his napkin on the table, picked up his martini, downed it, then pointed the empty glass at Watchdog. “Do you?”
“I do,” Watchdog said and projected a set of images on the dining room wall.
“Well shit,” Rage said. “That’s a Velpoohian cruiser.”
<
br /> “Pirates?” Lisha exclaimed.
“Yeah, don’t call them that,” Rage said. “They think pirate is a racist term.”
“But Velpoohians are from many different races,” Watchdog argued. “How can they believe the term pirate is racist?”
“I don’t know. Ask them when they get here,” Rage said. “All I know is they like to be called Velpoohians or scavengers. Calling them pirates only pisses them off.”
“Something you must be well acquainted with,” Watchdog said.
“Very,” Rage said without hesitation.
“Watchdog? Can we outrun them?” Lisha asked.
“No, my lady, we cannot,” Watchdog replied. “Their ship is much larger and faster.”
“Larger and faster than my ship?” Lisha exclaimed. “What is the point of spending an amount of money that could buy a small planet if my ship is not the superior vessel in space?”
“I believe the word you used was prestige, my lady,” Watchdog said.
Rage smirked at the bot’s cheeky answer.
“That’s enough, Watchdog,” Lisha said. “So, they intend to board us, I assume?”
She looked at Rage. Rage only shrugged.
“It’s what they do,” Rage said. “What weapons do you have onboard?”
“Watchdog, please show Max to the armory,” Lisha said. “He is to have his pick of weapons.”
“Are you sure, my lady? Should we trust a wild monkey with a gun? Seems like a risk,” Watchdog said.
“Keep flapping those metal lips and you’ll see what risk is,” Rage said.
“I do not possess lips,” Watchdog responded.
“Maybe not on your face,” Rage said and smirked.
“How crude,” Watchdog said.
“That’s me. The weapons?”
“Yes. Of course. It will be my pleasure to arm a being with less sense than my left nut,” Watchdog said. “Less sense than even my left bolt. Possibly less sense than my left—”
“Got it. You think I’m dumb. Good on you, Bolt Butt,” Rage said. “Weapons?”
“Watchdog, please be helpful,” Lisha said.
Watchdog beeped and bleeped then gave a short bow and gestured for Rage to exit the dining room.
They quickly moved through corridor after corridor, descending several levels to a less luxurious deck. Not that it wasn’t still ridiculously expensive looking; just that it wasn’t as expensive looking as the decks above.
Watchdog paused before a set of doors, blocking them so Rage had to face the bot.
“What’s on your mind? I ain’t psychic, and usually don’t give three shits and a fart what bots think, but I ain’t getting in that armory until you spill it, right?” Rage said.
“I serve my lady without question, Mr. Rage,” Watchdog said. “I will not hesitate to end your life if I believe you are a danger to her person.”
“I think your lady is the biggest danger to her person,” Rage said. “She walks the razor’s edge. But you know that. Stop projecting your Pinocchio issues onto me and let me do my job, okay?”
“Before I allow you to become armed, I need to be sure you won’t turn on my lady,” Watchdog said.
Before Rage could respond, a long thin needle extended from one of Watchdog’s metal fingers, piercing Rage’s left bicep.
“Motherfucker!” Rage snapped as he jumped back, rubbing his arm at the puncture point. “What the fuck was that? Shit burns, man.”
“A small explosive device,” Watchdog said. “Step out of line and the entire left half of your body will be vaporized.”
“Damn, Bolt Butt,” Rage said, still rubbing his arm. “I really kinda hate you. Although, the boom boom insurance was a ballsy move. Points for that, you hunk of rust bait.”
“I will not hesitate to detonate the explosive,” Watchdog said.
“Yeah, getting that. Can we gear up now? Or do you want me to turn my head and cough to make sure I’m fully equipped when the time comes to give your lady what she really wants?”
The bot snarled. Rage smiled.
“Was that a jealous snarl, Bolt Butt?” Rage said as he patted the bot on his metal shoulder. “You have major issues, man. You should see a psychomechanic about that.”
Watchdog whirled in place and opened the armory’s door. Rage was ready with a sarcastic quip about the armory’s inadequacy compared to what he’d been used to when fighting for Earth Corp. The quip died on his tongue as he stared at the vast array of weaponry that lined the walls and racks in the massive space.
“Well, fill me with xenon gas and light a match,” Rage said. “This ship is suddenly interesting.”
Watchdog moved aside so Rage could enter the armory. Rage walked the aisles, studying every single item as if he’d just seen them for the first time. Which he had not. He knew every piece of violence-making equipment the armory housed. Some he’d even field tested for Earth Corp during their R&D phase.
Then he saw what he was really looking for. The one piece of weaponry that would make him feel like a true man again.
Rage stopped in front of the rack and took his time selecting the perfect specimen. He carefully lifted it off the rack and turned the weapon in his hands.
“Dual plasma, laser-guided hot rocket launching, never empty Axis combat rifle,” Rage said. He sniffed the gun from butt to muzzle. “Oh, baby, that’s the stuff right there. Yeah. I’ve missed this.”
“Shall I leave you two alone?” Watchdog asked. “Perhaps come back in thirty seconds? Or is that too much time?”
Rage flipped the rifle up, pressing the butt to his shoulder as he took aim at the bot. Watchdog extended no less than fourteen different weapons from his arms, chest, and even crotch area. Rage grinned and lowered his rifle.
“Just testing you,” Rage said. “Wasn’t sure you could get it up in time when needed.”
“I perform well above average,” Watchdog said. “Some might consider my abilities vastly superior to any living beings’ skillsets.”
“We’ll see,” Rage said. “Messing with Velpoohians is gonna be the sure test of your…metal.”
“I assume you said metal as in what I am made of and not mettle as in the level of my fortitude,” Watchdog said.
“Assume what you want, Bolt Butt,” Rage said. He checked the levels on the rifle then slung it across his back as he walked the aisles once more. “Ah, I’ll take one of these. And these. And this. Ooh, look at this little bitch. Nice. One of them, one of this, one more of that. Bam. Ready.”
Rage faced Watchdog. Four heavy pistols were strapped to his waist, four bandoliers of plasma grenades crisscrossed his chest, several energy knives were strapped to his thighs, and what looked like a bullwhip hung from a loop in his belt.”
“Are you sure you have enough?” Watchdog asked. “Part of your body is visible at the knee. Perhaps you can squeeze in an ion charge there?”
“Nope. I’m good,” Rage said and pulled back the slide on his rifle. “Let’s go fuck up some Velpoohians.”
“Are we not going to try to negotiate with them first?” Watchdog asked.
“Negotiate? Your lady didn’t hire me to negotiate,” Rage said. He patted his rifle. “Unless it’s with this. You coming or are you gonna be a chickenshit and hide in the pantry with Cook?”
“Oh, no, I will enjoy watching the pirates rip your body to shreds,” Watchdog said. “If it is the last thing I witness, then my existence will have been a full one.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Rage said. “Just stay out of my way, will ya?”
“Gladly,” Watchdog replied and gestured toward the armory’s doors. “Shall we?”
“We fucking shall alright!”
Nine
The Velpoohians weren’t subtle in their boarding technique. They slammed their ship into the starboard side of the Hourglass, sent harpoon anchors straight through the hull, then proceeded to blast a four-meter-wide hole about two meters to the left of the ship’s actual airlock.
A
questionable-looking energy shield lit up around the new entrance, sealing in the atmosphere at the breach and keeping the Hourglass from tearing itself apart.
As the energy shield shimmered, eight very large, very ugly, and very well-armed Velpoohians came marching through the hole and into the smoke-filled corridor of the Hourglass’s entertainment deck. The scavengers swiveled their heads in unison, their eyes covered with grease-smeared goggles, and took stock of where they were. Dressed in layers of what looked like rags, the scavengers gave off a very post-apocalyptic vibe. They really seemed committed to the space-grunge look.
A short, bubbly bot rolled up to them and gave a quick bow.
“Hello! Welcome to the Hourglass’s entertainment deck! May I interest you in a game of shuffleboard? Or perhaps squash, also known as the Game of Middle Management? I do not play myself, but I hear it is a most enjoyable—”
The bot was blasted into a thousand pieces as a bright orange laser tore through its squat body. The center scavenger lowered his smoking heavy pistol, took one step forward, and lowered his goggles.
Her goggles.
The woman pushed back the heavy material that she had wrapped around her head to reveal closely shorn black hair, almost pure white skin, and beautiful almond-shaped eyes that were sparklingly violet. Then she grinned and all beauty that her eyes may have possessed was lost as she revealed a set of deadly looking fangs.
“Show yourselves, weaklings!” the woman called out. “I know you are here! I can smell…”
Her violet eyes narrowed as she raised her snub-nose into the air and sniffed long and hard.
“You,” she snarled, her upper lip getting caught on one of her fangs. She flicked the lip with her tongue, freeing it. “Rage!”
“Hey there, Tatti,” Rage said as he stepped around the corner of the smoke-filled corridor. “What’s a piece of shit space vampire like you doing so close to Earth? You usually avoid the Sol system like the plague.”
“We’ve expanded territory to include Pluto’s orbit,” Tatti said, glaring daggers at Rage. She looked him up and down. “Overcompensating as usual, I see.”