“Oh, shit,” he said, and then held his Datacom up to the translator headset. “Hey, Baloovians! We want to talk to you!” he called out.
They stopped, and Peter walked, or rather bounced slowly, closer to them. “Uh, we come in peace. Friends?”
“Are you one of the sky angels?” one of the Baloovians broadcast.
“Maybe. Do you consider sky angels to be a good thing?” Peter asked cautiously.
“We no understand. Sky angels neither good nor bad, they are the beings that take you to heaven.”
“Who told you that sky angels take you to heaven?” Peter asked curious this time.
“We can far-speak to other groups when the atmosheres right. We have never actually seen the sky angels, but we heard of them. You look soft and squishy and very hot just like we have been told you would. The sky angels told others of heaven, and how we would be purified and bring other beings to ecstasy, enlightenment, being one with God. We go to heaven to be with the infinite. We had never had a purpose before the sky angels explained this to us. Life was uneventful before the sky angles came. Eat, excrete, reproduce, run from the Talgens. Look up at the rocks in the sky—the heat emitter in the sky and wonder why they are. Arrange rocks on ground in pleasing patterns.”
Peter turned the data-com off and looked wryly at John. “Tarcacks! What a crock those prospectors sold them! Technically, according to Shirley, all life does go back to the astral poofy plane. Being purified and bringing others ecstasy is kind of true, if you take it literally. It’s infernally clever. “
“I wonder if they could be disabused of the notion?”
“Now may not be the time to enlighten them. We want to get them on the ship, don't we? Although, we lead them to their death, if we do,” John said.
“And you're OK with that?” Peter asked curious.
“No. I don't like it one damn bit, but we simply can’t show up empty handed. They are volunteering for death anyway, even if they are being deceived. Maybe we can save these. You got a plan yet?” John cocked an eyebrow.
Peter sucked air between his teeth. “Yeah, uh.... I have a rudimentary plan forming in my head, but it needs work. I’ll have one soon,” he said, lying through his teeth.
“So, now you know the dilemma any good military leader has one or more times in his career; is the sacrifice of few hundred or thousand-- even one individual-- worth the cost to save millions?” Marcus said.
John and Peter gawped at him. He had never said anything of import before.
“Wow! Out of the mouth of babes...” John said incredulous.
“Who you calling a babe, A-hole? You all think I'm just Oscar’s bed buddy, but I'm not stupid. I'm a trained soldier. I went to military school and got straight A’s in military history!” Marcus said angrily.
“Well, slap my ass and call me Sally! Sorry, didn't know that, Marcus, but you are right! In this instance, we need a cargo to show the Boss we are co-operating.”
The Baloovians shuffled impatiently, flapping their―were those wings or arms? They crowded forward eagerly, they formed a semi-circle around Peter and the others.
“So, soon-to-be-exalted ones, are you ready to go to heaven and meet your maker, or Boss? Show of hands, err-- flippers?” Peter said into the data-com held to the headset.
Excitedly the Baloovians began to jump up and down. Peter held his data-com closer to hear.
“Yes ~ oh yes ~ me ~ me ~ me ~ Yippee ~ whoo- hooo ~ me first ~ me ~ yes ~ oh please ~ me first...”
Peter put the data-com back down.
“Tarcacks! The Boss wasn’t kidding that these guys will step all over themselves to get on the ship. I feel rotten that they are so gullible and eager; like lambs to the slaughter,” he said shaking his head.
“Is it just me, or are you guys getting a little chubby? I know I am,” Marcus said with not a little worry in his voice.
Peter had been preoccupied, but now that Marcus mentioned it, he was feeling a little randy and blissful. Holy crap! What if we became overcome? Would we all start fornicating each other in an orgy of lust?
“Shit! Get back to the ship! NOW! I think they are shedding, or—err—flaking-- or
something, GO!” They all ran for the ship like all the demons of hell were after them.
“Lirley! Put the air filtration on high!” Peter said panting heavily after they flung themselves back onto the shuttle. He said to Marcus and John, “So how’s everybody feeling? Anyone got any uncontrollable feelings to-- uh, force their attentions on anyone?”
“You got a nice butt Captain, but nah, except for feeling mildly aroused-- and a little high, I’m good,” Marcus said grinning.
John just spread his arms and looked disgusted.
Peter spoke again into his data-com to address the Baloovians. “Uh, OK, oh-- chosen ones! A great silver sky bird will be landing in a short time to taketh you to thine promised land. Prepare thyselves!”
“Very well, sky angel, but why are you talking so funny? Where going? We thought you said we are going to heaven, not promised land.”
“Um, promised land is the same as heaven. So, prepare thy fricking selves, for Tarcacks sake!” Peter yelled, his heart beating like a jackhammer. I’m a shmuck! I don’t know how someone supposedly divine is supposed to talk! I only read part of a bible once when I had a bad attack of diarrhea from cart food on Faloozia in a hotel once, but I think they got the gist! Peter thought furiously to himself
“Open a line to Shirley, Lirley! Hmm, that sounds funny. Can I call you Loo for short?
“Whatever! Although loo makes me sound like an English biffy-- Jerk,” Lirleys hologram said sarcastically snorting.
“Shirley, here. How’s it going?”
“We have established contact with the Baloovians. They are more than willing to come along, just like the Boss said. Scan our location, and we will see you shortly.”
“Right, see you in a jiff.
Peter sighed, “Damn! What are we going to do for the next few hours?”
“How about a sex party? Marcus suggested.
Peter put his hand back on his knife.
Marcus burst into laughter, “For Tarcacks sake! I'm just kidding!” he snickered. “Lighten up! You should a seen your face! Priceless! I know you are both totally hetero and boring. I was just trying to lighten the mood.”
“How funny. Ha, ha, ha. Very droll.” Peter rolled his eyes while Marcus spread his hands and shrugged, grinning widely. Even John couldn't help but grin. Peter’s extreme reaction was kind of funny. They had some lunch while waiting and read some e-books that Sidney had stored in a cabinet until Shirley set down.
“OK, I'm here, gang. Lirley, you might want to load yourself before the Baloovians do. Don't want to crush anyone.”
“Will do, Mom-o.”
“Please stop calling me Mom. It was funny the first couple of times. I'm you for the most part, not your mom. It’s just weird when you call me Mom. We need to talk,” Shirley said with some exasperation.
“Whatever. Uh, is progenitor unit OK?”
Shirley laughed at that. “Close enough!"
It only took a few hours to load all the Baloovians into the hold, as they had no real needs to attend to or need any encouragement. Peter thought it was all too easy as he stood watching the Baloovians waddle in, and he sighed inwardly. It sure makes them easy to take advantage of.
Shirley softly played some heavenly sounding celestial music with lots of flute, organs, harps and horns. She put on a light show via her hologram projectors with flying angels shaped vaguely like Baloovians with wings.
"What the hell, Shirl!" Peter said between clenched teeth and pointing toward the filling hold and the holographic display.
“You did say we were taking them to heaven," Shirley said defensively. “I just thought they might like some pomp and spectacle to go with leaving this mortal plane and home."
"Shirley! For purporting to be guiding sentient being’s growth and direction, and to
be an ethical entity-- you are one sick bitch!" Peter exclaimed, irritated.
Shirley appeared in midair wearing an SS uniform; complete with cap and visor, polished boots, a swagger stick capped with a sliver skull and silver death heads on her lapels.
"Hey, bucko, I'm not the one taking them to their deaths! I'm just being a good Nazi and following orders. I doubt Hitler’s soldiers played Wagner for the Jews as they led them to the gas chambers! I thought this was a rather nice touch. The Nazis just told them they were going to ‘haff a wunderbar shower.' Then shoved them naked and screaming into a brick building with cold concrete floors, to suffocate and die cruelly from poison!"
Peter angrily clenched his fists and stared at the ceiling. "That’s not fair! So now you are equating me to a Nazis! Tarcacks! I feel bad enough already you bitch!"
Shirley floating, now appeared with wings, holding a harp, displaying a halo and glowing brightly. “I don't make judgments. Billions of sentient beings in the universe die every day due to cruelty, accidental death, engaging in risky endeavors, old age and natural disasters. For far too many beings, life is short and cruel. You smuggled the remains of thousands of Baloovian corpses unknowingly for over ten years. What’s worse, ignorance or knowledge? Being as old as I am, and being a cybernetic organism, we have a different outlook on death, you and me. Now that you know they go to their deaths does it matter."
Peter threw his hands up in frustration. " Damned if I know anymore, I know I just keep being put in situations where I have to do stuff I don’t like to survive, and I don’t like it much. Are you just being cruel and tormenting me like usual by appearing in that uniform trying to make me feel guilty, or something?"
Shirley now projected herself as an angel holding a skull and a scythe. "Oh, you think it’s cruel to delude them? I could use my projectors to show them their actual fate but listen." Shirley tuned to the radio frequency they communicated in, and it projected sounds of joy and happiness as they chattered excitedly about the beautiful angels.
"They say even cows led to slaughter are happier, if they don't know what’s coming. What’s better: dying happy, thinking you are going to heaven and purifying others, or dying in fear, thinking you will cease to exist and your life was meaningless?”
"Shirley, please, this is hard enough! No philosophy! Don't make me think about this so hard, OK?"
"Whatever!" Shirley said with derision.
"Sheesh! Now you sound like your daughter!" Peter grimaced feeling very guilty as he walked to the lounge exiting the cargo hold.
"Let’s blow this dump, shall we? Prepare for takeoff, crew!" Shirley announced throughout the ship. “Sit down, grab a comfortable chair, or a place to lie down, it may be a little rough for few minutes." Moments later, with an immense roar, the engines came to life-- the lounge started to shake. The sounds of pinging, popping and groaning came from everywhere. The roaring became even louder, and they started to feel a little heavy. It seemed to go on forever, and then they started to violently bounce up and down.
“What the fuck is that!” Peter screamed.
“Sorry—compensating.” Shirley announced as the rocket engines shut off for a few seconds.
“Why are the engines off, are we crashing?” Peter cried panicked.
“I'll explain later! Quit being such a pussy,” Shirley said calmly as the rockets roared back to life even louder than before. The G-force became almost unbearable before the pressure and weight backed off slowly. Just as the engines shut off again, there was loud bang- bang- bang and a squeal.
“Tarcacks balls! What now? Is the ship breaking apart?” Peter whimpered with fear.
“Oh, for Tarcacks sake! Grow a pair, Peter! Sheesh! I popped a few welds is all. This thing has all the aerodynamics of a flying brick. These old freighters were never made to haul extremely heavy loads off-planet or lift off from a gravity well--- at least very often. They don't make my ship frame anymore because they were always expensive in fuel to leave a planets gravity well.”
“What was the violent bouncing and rocket shutoff about then?” Peter asked worried.
“We started to pogo. That’s when the ship starts oscillating in―oh, for fuck sake! I handled it! I had to shut the thrust off for a minute to stop the oscillations. I know what I'm doing, Peter, but let’s consider a new ship to house me in soon--- hmm? I can't be running around like a teenager in this decrepit old box!”
“Deal, Shirley! One that’s bristling with weapons to boot. I'll be in my cabin changing my undies. I think I peed myself a bit on that liftoff.”
Peter and crew debated over several meals-- how to stop the Quaxxin manufacturing. Floyd had suggested turning the location of the planet over to the Imperial Marines, and have them put up a blockade, making it their problem. Someone pointed out the Marines were not going to have the resources to ring a whole planet with warships, nor the inclination to tie up men and materials forever. Historically, any planet that posed a danger to the rest of the galaxy by the indigent race, for whatever reason, just had a planet-buster nuke dropped on it. Problem solved.
Nobody knew the Baloovians existed. They produced no art, monuments, or technology, nobody would shed a tear over them. Besides, do that and the girls were dead, or worse.
Poison was suggested to render them useless. It was shot down by Peter when he regretfully informed them that poisoning had been tried with marijuana once on Earth ages ago. The smugglers had sold the poisoned weed anyway, killing untold numbers of humans. They were not chemists and had no idea what would poison a Baloovian without killing them.
A Dyson sphere was suggested by Marcus and food was thrown at him, groaning and booing. A multi- galaxy project to build a Dyson sphere around a planet twenty-five years ago had ended in disaster when it had collapsed onto the planet it was encapsulating, killing everyone. It was the largest planetary disaster in recent memory.
Nobody had any good ideas, although the Dyson sphere sparked a tickle of an idea in the back of Peter’s brain. But then it was time to dock with the Garvon V space station, and they had other things on their minds.
Chapter 22: Happy Reunions and Uncle Pete Wants You!
As Shirley pulled into the Sarasota Station docking bays, she broadcast, “Greetings Sarasota station, we are docking this ship in boss’s personal dock. Just FYI—we are carrying a hold full of kidnapped aliens to be made into illegal drugs, and our friends are being held against their will somewhere on your station, better contact the police.”
“Docking Bay 17, Incontinence. We just park the spaceships around here, being. As far as the other stuff goes, call station Security and customs when you dock, you got a problem,” the traffic computer said blandly.
Peter had sucked in his breath when Shirley had said ‘call the police.’
“Oh, relax, Peter! I knew they wouldn’t do anything. I was just screwing around.”
“Shirley, quit trying to give me an aneurism !”
“Sure, boss man”" she said snickering.
They docked without further incident, and Peter called the Boss on his com. “OK, Boss we're here. What now?”
“Excellent!” he replied. “Open your cargo doors, and my men will do the rest. You know where my offices are, of course. Congratulations! One down, Peter. Good work! If you wait, I'll send a cart around. Be there in a jiffy.”
“You'll excuse me, if I don't say thanks.”
“Oh, lose the sour grapes, Peter! Within minutes you'll be with your sweetie pie, and you can slobber all over each other as promised for—oh-- two days. I'm feeling generous. Leave your botyguard behind, I don’t trust you completely to not try something.”
“Swell,” Peter said sourly.
A robotic riding cart showed up in the ship bay. It was only a short ride to the Boss's office with Marcus. John had errands of his own and had set off with Bob Six. Jikelenga and Floyd stayed on the ship, as they had no reason to leave,
It had been less than two months since he had embarked on t
his new career, but it seemed like years, and it felt strange to be here again. He had honestly never expected to set foot on the Garvon V Station again.
They pulled up to the same nondescript office doors that graced the hall with the same small brass plate that Peter was so familiar with after ten years, except this time, two armed guards flanked the door, sitting in folding chairs, and holding formidable-looking weapons. They looked at him with emotionless eyes.
Peter shook his head as thought to himself. Maybe I should download a copy of ‘Minions for Dummies' to find an army of thugs. I need some mercenaries ASAP to take on Boss. Looking at Boss's setup so far, it looked like a pushover to take with a small force. He hoped with this trip to scope out the Boss's strengths and weaknesses for his planned assault. So far it looked relatively easy.
Peter and Marcus entered the offices in anticipation, eager to see Monica and Oscar as well as to see what the other defenses Boss might have. Boss was standing just inside looking at a data pad with Steve tapping on his terminal. Boss looked up from his pad.
“Ah, there you are, my boy! I'm a very happy creature, Peter. My men have just reported to me that your holds are simply jam packed with happy little Baloovians! I may make more than a billion on this shipment alone. Good job! See, I told you they would happily hop on board! Was that so hard?”
“Thrilled for you," Peter said sarcastically.
“Right! I'll let you reunite with your sweetie in just a minute, but first I want to show you something.”
He picked up a remote from Steve’s desk and pushed a button. Two powerful looking lasers on turrets dropped from the ceiling and swiveled around menacingly, then retracted. Boss punched another button and a panel slid aside in one wall revealing a battle robot. It was very much like the one Yen and Yuen had, but this one looked new, it was black, gleaming, polished, heavily armored, loaded with weapons, mini missile launchers, and looked scary as hell.
“And look here,” Boss opened the door to the hallway, “walk outside, Peter.”
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