“Bob-Six, has had more excitement in past few months to last two lifetimes, but never had chance to be hero. Goodbye, friend called John,” Bob shouted after them.
“Bob! Nooooo!”
It was too late. The soldier-bot had reached Bob-Six and grabbed him with one arm as Bob-Six calmly flicked the safety switches on the two charges. The combat robot’s other hand closed on his arm as he slapped them on the robot. Bob-six pushed the detonators
BOOM!
John, still running, looked back again. There was no sign of Bob-Six.
As the smoke cleared, he could see the soldier-bot on its ass, with one arm missing and a crushed torso. A pair of smoking boots stood in front of it. Bob-Six’s boots.
They ran.
John frantically pushed the button when they finally reached the freight elevators. The doors whooshed open and they piled in. It was obvious that the robot was down, but not out-- they heard its heavy thumps coming after them. John was just drawing a breath in relief as the elevator doors started to close, when with a squeal and the scream of tearing metal, the elevator door was ripped out of the frame. The combat-bot wedged its head into the cab with one foot on the edge of the elevator, and stopped it from rising. The Lavana backed up, squealing in terror as the bot’s remaining arm reached for them.
Just inches away from John’s face, the arm froze.
John sucked in his breath, raised a cautious finger, and poked at the hand.
Deactivated.
“Shirley?” John said hesitantly.
“Yeah, got it. It's turned off,” Shirley informed him.
“Cut it pretty close, didn't you?”
“Sorry. I may be a super genius computer and work at light speeds, but he had a lot of cyber protection to sort through. Everyone OK?”
“We lost six Lavana and Bob-Six. He sacrificed himself to give us a little more time.” John said softly.
Shirley was silent for a few seconds. “Uh, sorry to hear that. I didn't know Bob-Six well. Guy never talked much.... Farzookian! who would have figured he had it in him to be a hero?”
~
Peter had been circling aimlessly for twenty minutes when Shirley finally called him on his com and gave him the news he had been waiting for.
“OK, Peter, I got it... I'm hooked into everything, so let me fly this thing from here out.”
Peter dropped his hands from the controls, “You got it, Shirl! Go for it. How are the other groups doing?”
“I'm sorry Peter, but we lost SIX Lavana—and Bob-Six.”
“Damn it! Where’s that bastard Boss hiding? He’s going to fucking die now!”
“Come on, Peter—We won. He’s cowering in his office with a blaster, and two armed soldiers. Cut your losses, grab the girls and get out of there. You knew there might be casualties,” Shirley pleaded.
“I've got extra weapons for the girls and enough C-9 to take out a space freighter. Snotface needs to die.’
“Please, Peter! Just rescue the girls The battle-bot’s been eliminated, the soldiers outside in the hall are clueless, and Boss is no threat. What’s the point?” Shirley wheedled.
“Revenge! Besides, that ball-of-snot’s been alive for centuries; who knows how many lives he’s ruined?”
“Alright, Peter, but let me send Marcus and his Lavana down to assist, although they will have to fight their way through dozens of soldiers, and risk more deaths.”
“Nice try, Shirley, but you are not going to guilt trip me out of this. I'm sure the ladies and I can handle this ourselves. They will probably be more than happy to get some payback themselves.”
“Alright, Peter, if I can't talk you out of this, be careful.”
“Hey, you know what? You have been forgetting to insult me or call me names lately. You’re getting soft on me.”
“Be careful...you asshole,” Shirley simpered.
“That’s better!”
With a soft thump the repair pod settled down against the outside surface of the space station, and the floor rolled up into the walls of the pod. Peter got to work, pulling what looked like a caulking gun filled with a cutting solution, off the wall hanger. He squeezed out a rough circle, and then set the gun to the side. Picking the igniter off the wall, he touched it to the paste and pulled the trigger. White smoke filled the pod as the solution did its work. The circle of metal fell to the next layer, Peter pulled it out, cycled the airlock, and chucked it out the door. He pushed aside the exposed wires and pipes that he could, and simply cut through what he couldn’t-- through two more layers. Pipes filled with liquid froze instantly from the cold. Some people were going to be really pissed when their electrical, and plumbing stopped working, but that wasn't Peter’s problem right now.
He repeated this until he got to what Shirley informed him was the last, inner layer, closed the airlock, and pressurized the interior. He hoped that Monica and Oscar would see or hear the ceiling being cut and get out of the way before the circle of metal dropped on their heads. The cuts hissed as the air pressure equalized, and with a soft pop and a clang, the circle of metal dropped to the floor.
Peter let himself down via the winch attached to the ceiling of the repair pod, and as he came down into the room, he was relieved to see both women unharmed. As he un-dogged his helmet and took it off, Monica gave a squeal of delight and made as if to kiss him. She got within two feet until she felt the cold radiating off his suit, stopped and was careful not to touch him. Oscar just stood there grinning.
“We had faith that you would get us out of here somehow, but that was novel,” she said, pointing at the ceiling.
“Sorry, we couldn’t let you in on our plans, but well...as you know...no com service," Peter said with a grin as wide as Monica’s and Oscar’s.
“Well, then let’s blow this shit hole! What are we waiting for?”
Peter smiled wickedly, “Feel up to helping me kill Boss first?”
“Oh, hell, yeah! Let me at that slime ball!" Monica said with great enthusiasm, punching the air.
Peter pulled a machine pistol and laser out of his pouch-- but as Oscar reached eagerly for it, Peter shouted, “Shit! Don't touch it yet! Let me run these under some hot water first.”
“Sorry. Duh!” Oscar said sheepishly, “and me an ex-space marine.”
“Natural mistake. I should have said something-- I almost forgot I had just been in space myself,” Peter said feeling foolish.
“Anyway, Boss is cowering in his office, follow me, let’s kill that Flox-shit eater, before we go."
Peter ran to the sink and poured hot water over the guns for a minute, before handing them both a now warmed up gun. Walking to the door he carefully melted the door lock and kicked the door open. Steve was nowhere in sight. He carefully looked around the door-frame and observed an empty room.
“I could have told you the room was empty, idiot!" Shirley informed him.
“Shit, I forgot you can see us from the security cameras,” Peter said, feeling foolish again.
“Are you sure you’re up for this, moron?” Shirley said scornfully.
‘Thanks for the vote of confidence-- you belligerent piece of crystal crap. Now shut the hell up and let me do this.”
Peter walked over to the wall and examined it. He remembered the layout from numerous visits before and figured the door would be covered. He pulled the Plastic C-9 from his pouch and tried to form it into a fat rope, but it was hard as a rock from the cold.
“Monica, let me borrow that laser for a sec.”
Peter twisted the dial for the beam to wide dispersal, set the block down on the carpet, and played it back and forth quickly over the brick, softening it.
Monica cringed, gasped, and stepped back quickly when she saw what he was doing.
"Don't worry. The only thing that will set this off is an electrical charge," Peter said looking up momentarily and smiling at Monica to reassure her, "Here, help me with this."
Peter set the girls to work rolling some ropes of expl
osive on Steve's desk. Finally, he squished it onto the wall in a large, rough circle big enough for all of them to jump through easily and attached the detonator.
“Stand back. As soon as this blows, we all run through the hole. Shoot anything that moves. OK? Ready?”
They both nodded, and Peter pushed the button.
Boom!
The wall blew inward sending the chunk of wall flying away from them. They rushed through the newly created hole with their weapons drawn. The two soldiers seemed a bit stunned-- Boss unreadable-- none of them got off more than a few halfhearted shots.
Monica, her aim deadly, drilled one soldier through the head and he hit the floor.
Oscar sprayed the office, with her machine pistol in Boss's direction instantly dropping the soldier next to him as the deadly plastic bullets stitched their way across his chest.
Boss absorbed his bullets with no visible effect, and he got off one shot. It hit Oscar in the shoulder sending a gout of blood into the air and extracted a grunt of pain.
Peter aimed for the appendage holding the weapon and severed it, dropping it to the floor, where it flopped for minute like a landed fish. It twitched and started crawling back to Boss to be reabsorbed.
The smell of cordite filled the air along with the odd smell of vaporized amoeboid. The air was smoky from the explosion and weapons fire. Boss formed a new appendage to match the missing one, and slowly raised both pseudopods into the air.
“Well, well, well, Peter. Seems you have won. How you got past all my defenses is a mystery though. Congratulations, you have proved a more formidable opponent than I calculated.”
“Yep, you lose, snotface. As far as I know you don't have any deity you believe in. Any last words before I reduce you to your individual molecules like you so heartlessly do to your offspring, not to mention the thousands and millions of addicts that have died from your poison?”
“Oh, come now, Peter, so dramatic! I'm not the only dealer for this drug you know. How about the people that discovered this substance? They have produced and sold a thousand times more than what I have. This was just business. You had no compunctions about destroying five hundred marines just because they were going to arrest you. You delivered this so-called poison for any number of years for me,” Boss said hastily, “you should be thanking me for toughening you up and forcing you to face certain realities. Surely, we can work something out? I have a lot of money in my safe, and more in the bank. Come on now, old friend-- you are not just going to shoot me down like a griffoon, are you?” Boss wheedled.
“How much are we talking?” Peter said in a cold voice.
“How does six million in glow-metal bars sound? May I?” Boss gestured to the safe prominently set into the wall.
“Sounds good; for all the aggravation you've caused me,” Peter waggled the gun in the direction of the safe.
“Peter!” Monica said as she jerked her head up from wrapping Oscar’s shoulder wound with a strip of cloth torn from her dress. “You are not seriously going to let this asshole walk, are you? For money?”
“Shut up, Monica! Stay out of this!” Peter said brutally, shocking Monica as much as if he had slapped her.
“By the way, I'm fine, in case you were wondering,” Oscar said pissed off and glaring.
The Boss worked the combination and swung the door open. “See! A load of hard, cold, non-traceable glow-metal.” The large safe sparkled with a nice shiny fortune.
“Thanks, Boss. Guess I can retire now. I don't need four billion to be happy. Appreciate it! See ya in another life, snotface!”
“What--? Please! Peter-- old friend-- You need mor… aaagggg!”
Peter depressed the trigger and slowly played the beam over as it and began to unbind Boss’s molecules, Boss screamed once, and then fell silent as he slowly fell apart into a pile of dust.
“Sorry, sweetness, about telling you to shut up, and ignoring you, Oscar. I had to convince butt face to open the safe, since he was giving it away. But believe me, baby, that’s not why I came here. I had no idea he was stashing that much glow-metal here or would try to bribe me to spare his life, but pretty sweet, huh? Nice to get a payday as well, isn’t it…? Help me load this up, will ya?”
They found some canvas bags in the safe along with the glow-metal Boss had been hording. They loaded them with the bars and dragged them to a spot beneath the ceiling opening. They were too heavy to lift, so he used the repair shacks ceiling winch to pull the heavy canvas bags up.
He soon had them safely aboard; the ladies ensconced in some spare spacesuits and the fortune in glow-metal bars on the floor, Peter picked up Sam the cockatoo from the box, jammed him on his shoulder and dropped the box through the hole before closing the floor.
“Arrakk! Peaches of hate!” said Sam.
As they detached from the station, Peter felt guilty about decompressing Boss’s offices, but he simply didn’t have the time to re-weld the hole.
In a matter of minutes, they were back at the repair pod station. He grabbed a rolling cart, transferred Oscar and their bonus to it, and they made their way back to the docking bay and the Incontinence.
John and Floyd were in the docking bay patching up the wounded Lavana. Everyone’s head snapped up at the sound of the shouted war cries of Marcus and his troop of Lavana as they marched triumphantly into the bay. Two of the little natives held up a severed head while others sported bloody muzzles and pouches dripping with blood.
“What the—f--?" Peter sputtered furiously, pointing at the severed heads and bloody pouches.
Marcus hung his head down guiltily staring at the hanger deck. “Uh, well, err--they already had the trophies—they did so well—we got a little caught up in the moment I admit-- I err, thought what’s the harm?"
“What’s the harm? What’s the harm! Wh... Wh...AAAAGGGGG!” Peter sputtered.
Shirley’s image appeared floating in midair at the cargo door, and displayed a video screen “Hey, look! We definitely made the news...”
A harried and shocked looking commentator appeared on the screen while a caption scrolled across the bottom: BREAKING NEWS: BRUTAL ATTACK ON SARASOTA STATION. DOZENS FEARED DEAD. BUSINESSMAN ‘BOSS’ MISSING!
“This afternoon, in an apparently unprovoked attack, an unknown band of marauders forced their way in to our main power plant, Loading Dock 14, and the offices of prominent businessman Boss, in what appears to be," The newsman looked off screen and was handed a data pad. "Wait this just in-- The station’s hull has been breached on level nine, J section. The breach has been contained and security cameras show empty offices, but there are signs of an explosion and blood stains. The prominent businessman Boss is missing and presumed dead. So far, there is no apparent motive for the attacks, but some speculate it was retaliation for a drug deal gone wrong."
Suddenly, a gun barrel appeared for a second from off-camera and was poked at his head. It was pulled back as the commentator’s eyes shifted nervously to the right.
“Uh, correction—a—ahem--- business dispute gone wrong—is perhaps the motive for this senseless attack. Imperial Marines are reportedly on route to apprehend the attackers. They should be here in a few hours. Local law enforcement is mobilizing but proceeding cautiously. Some of the attackers are suspected to be-- as impossible as this seem,” He read from his floating script monitor closely, squinting, “the reputed bloodthirsty cannibals from Iliick!" The camera switched to a short video shot of several Lavana holding up a severed head and howling in triumph.
“Such atrocity has not been seen in recent history...do not attempt to apprehend them, they are considered extremely vicious and deadly.”
Peter made chopping motions at Shirley to turn the news feed off. “See? I told you, Marcus, bad idea.” Peter scowled, “Which reminds me.”
Peter punched some numbers into his wrist com. “Bob's Bar-B-Que? Yes, hello, I would like a hundred full orders of ribs with sides. Um hmm. Thirty minutes...? Could you deliver those to hanger S?” Th
ere was a long pause. “Yeah, that’s right. Is that a problem? You’ll make the news. OK, if you get those here in less than thirty minutes, tell your delivery guy there’s a whopping tip in it for someone. Thanks.”
“Peter, are you nuts?” Monica gasped. “There are Imperial Marines on the way, and probably dozens of cops on the other side of that airlock.”
“You heard the man, we have time. Besides, I promised. Let’s get everyone inside.”
“Shirley, get ready to take off as soon as the food gets here”.
“Marcus tell the Lavana to get rid of the heads and whatever disgusting, bleeding parts they have collected, I have dinner on its way.” Peter said firmly.
“Peter, I agree with Monica. This is crazy! We need to leave now!” Shirley shouted frantic with urgency.
“I promised, and besides, the station police are cowards. They'll let the marines handle it.”
"OK, douchebag, you get me destroyed and the rest of us killed, I'll never speak to you again.
Chapter 27: Nobody Likes Us
Within twenty-five minutes, a trembling, pimply-faced teenager showed up driving a delivery cart filled with ribs in multiple Envirofoam boxes.
"Y-y- your order with sides, mister—That will be two-thousand-forty credits, sir,” The teenage male said in a cracking voice.
Peter reached into one of the sacks, drew out a glow-metal bar, and handed it to the kid.
The kid looked at him blankly., “Err—we take checks or data strips only.”
“Look, kid, I can’t access a bank account right now. Take that to any bank. It’s worth at least 10,000 credits; ten, jeez, forty times what I owe you--shit! My math is bad, keep the change. You are now rich-- I appreciate your speed.”
“Gee, I don't know, mister-- h-h-how do I know this is really glow-metal?” the boy stammered.
“Oh, for fuck sake! Look! It glows! It sparkles! Haven't you ever seen glow-metal? I may be a pirate, but I wouldn't cheat you. You can buy twenty gravity scooters with the change! It’s more money than you will probably ever see in your life, kid. Take it. Besides, you have no choice,” Peter said pulling his arm long scary knife halfway out of the holster.
Star Hookers Space Pirates Page 34