The Hunt for Reduk Topa

by Barry J. Hutchison

  “Please,” Tyrra added, her mouth initially reluctant to form the word until she forced it to comply.

  Cal glanced across at the faces of the others.

  “Ain’t like the girl to ask anyone’s permission,’” Mech pointed out. “That’s progress.”

  “And those puppets were, like, total shizznods,” Miz reminded him.

  Cal sighed. “Fine. You can kill one puppet.”

  For a moment, it looked like Tyrra might argue, but she clamped her mouth shut before it could get her into trouble. She nodded and turned away.

  “She did say ‘please,’” said Loren.

  “And she was very receptive to my instructions, sir,” Kevin added. “Without her, things would not have worked out the way they did.”

  Cal softened. “Ah, what the hell? Go ahead, kid. Kill both of them,” he said, giving her the fingerguns. “You earned it.”

  Thirty-Nine

  Cal sat in his chair aboard the Currently Untitled, staring at the number displayed on screen. It was not, mercifully, another of Kevin’s math lessons, but something infinitely better.

  “And that’s money?” Cal said. “That’s actual money that we have?”

  “Indeed, sir,” said Kevin. “I took the liberty of acquiring the funds which should have rightfully been yours for reaching the finish line,” he explained.

  “But that’s not—”

  “And then I got overexcited and took lots more, sir, yes.”

  “So, we stole it?” asked Loren, strapping herself in and flicking a row of switches on her console.

  “Only in the sense that we unlawfully took it from the people it belonged to, ma’am,” Kevin said.

  “What other sense is there?” asked Loren.

  Kevin hesitated.

  “The sixth sense, ma’am?”

  “Great movie,” said Cal. “Bruce Willis is dead the whole time.” He waved a hand. “But I don’t want to spoil it for anyone, so I won’t say anymore.”

  Cal looked across the bridge. Mech stood at his console, doing whatever it was Mech did. Splurt was up in the pipework of the ceiling somewhere, doing Splurt stuff. Miz slouched in her chair, doing absolutely nothing whatsoever, yet managing to convey the impression that this was somehow unfair.

  And at the back, curled up in one of the guest chairs, Tyrra slept soundly.

  “Aw, look at her. Somebody had a long day,” said Cal, softly. “All that eating people and murdering puppets must’ve really taken it out of her.”

  Although her eyes didn’t open, Tyrra’s arm came up quickly. A Viaview Network mug whistled through the air then whanged off Cal’s forehead.

  “Ow! Jesus!”

  “Ha,” said Tyrra, settling deeper into the chair. She yawned, showing her terrifying cavern of a throat. “Bested.”

  “Man, I hate that kid,” Cal whispered.

  “No, you don’t,” said Loren.

  Cal sighed. “No,” he admitted. “I don’t.”

  “Sorry to intrude, everyone, but it appears we have a visitor,” Kevin announced. “Should I put him on screen?”

  “Go for it,” said Cal, taking a last look at the insane number of digits currently filling the display.

  The image changed to show the landing platform outside. The Controller stood there, his legs regrown, his multitude of arms all pointing up at the Untitled.

  “Oh, hey, it’s that guy,” said Cal. “Can he hear me?”

  “He can now, sir,” said Kevin.

  “Hey, you!” Cal called. “You gave us a real scare there for a moment. We thought your, you know, processors or whatever had melted.”

  “I’ll prove it!” cried the Controller, shaking several fists.

  Cal looked around at the others. “Did we miss the start of this?” he muttered, then he leaned a little closer to the screen. “Prove what?”

  “I’ll prove that I am the most sophisticated artificial intelligence in the galaxy!” the Controller said. “I challenge your AI to a battle of wits! My synthetic brain against his. Two intellects, locked in mental combat, only one—”

  A blast of cannon-fire from the Currently Untitled’s weapons system turned the Controller into a charred patch of black on the ground.

  “Did I win?” asked Kevin, once the dust had settled.

  “I’d say so,” said Loren.

  “Pretty definitive, if you ask me,” Mech agreed.

  “Good going there, champ,” said Cal. “Totally sucker-punched the shizz out of him.”

  Kevin didn’t make a sound, and yet they could all sense him basking quietly in their praise.

  “So, like, what’s next?” asked Mizette. “I take it we go buy the warp disk, or whatever?”

  Cal nodded. “I can get on board with that plan. Anyone object?”

  He looked around. Nobody seemed to have a problem with it.

  “Then it’s settled. We go get us the warp disk, then we blast the fonk out of here and never look back.”

  His eyes met Loren’s. “Unless… What you said before. About staying. Settling down. If you… I mean… If you still want…?” Cal said. “Because I would. If you want. I would.”

  Around them, the ship seemed to hold its breath. Loren glanced down at a little star map on her console, then around at the bridge.

  “I’m good where we are,” she said. “For now, anyway.”

  Cal’s face lit up in a grin. “Well, alright!” he said. “Loren, set a course for the closest space shopping mall.”

  “Aye aye, Captain,” Loren sighed. It was good-natured, though.

  He hoped.

  Cal looked over at Mech standing by his console, Miz slouching in her chair, and Tyrra snoring in her sleep, then he settled back in his seat, gripped the armrests, and gazed out past the smoldering remains of the Controller and ahead to the great void of space beyond.

  “Let’s go blow some Vajacox.”

  Further Reading

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