by G. J. Koch
The biggest issue was going to be rising both to the top and under an opening. Since visibility was nil, couldn’t rely on that. Buoyancy and air rising through liquid would help, but the tank was pretty damned heavy. Plus, if I used Mission Aqueesis: Depth Charge as my guide—and I had nothing else to use—there was no guarantee we’d luck into rising up to the top in the first place.
“Lionside, what part of Lake Disgusting are we aiming for?” I shouted this out. My ears were still ringing so I figured his were, too.
“Northeast corner.” He shouted, too, I could tell. Though it still sounded like he was far away, he wasn’t quite as far away as he’d been before. At this rate, we might have our hearing back in time for Lucky Pierre’s attack.
“Governor, any help with a compass of any kind?” I shouted this out on the top of my lungs. If Lionside and I could barely hear, the Governor was probably going to be worse.
“Stop shrieking, Alexander.” He didn’t sound far away. Annoyed, yes, but not far away. He fiddled with some knobs on the tank. The ringing in my ears went away. “How’s that, everyone?”
“What did you do?” I asked while the others shared their ears didn’t hurt any more. “And why didn’t you do it sooner?”
“I had hours to kill, Alexander. I read the operations manual. This model is equipped with a sound reduction capability. I activated it. And I activated it as soon as it was prudent to do so. It’s seating based. I did my seat first.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m the senior partner.”
“Senior something, I’ll give you that. So, during leisure reading time, did you happen to see if this model is equipped with a compass? Or any other directional device that will get us out of Lake Disgusting before we run out of air?”
“We won’t run out of air. The oxygen filtration system is internal to all Hulkinator models.”
“Hulkinwhat?”
“Hulkinator. That’s what this model’s called.”
I looked back at Lionside. “Hulkinator? What’s wrong with the people on this planet?”
“Nothing. Well, being economically destroyed by an evil conspiracy that could be pirate-related. But otherwise, nothing.”
“Forget I asked. So, Governor, how do we find our safe exit point? Because I know the charge won’t last forever, and I want to at least be under clean, flowing water when the batteries die.”
The Governor fiddled with some more knobs. A screen flickered to life. Green concentric circles radiating out from the center of the screen, intersecting lines creating quadrants, and a flashing green dot. That was it.
“We the green dot?”
“Yes, Alexander.” He sounded peeved. Shocker.
“Well, that’s nice. I can watch us move. I still have no idea where to move us to, of course. And this is two-dimensional, and we need three. Maybe four. And I don’t know what it considers north, since that’s not marked. But, otherwise, thanks.”
He gave a long-suffering sigh. “The driver has to engage the full function viewer, Alexander.”
“I didn’t read the manual. Sue me.”
Lionside reached through and pushed the button. A three dimensional grid sprang to life and beamed up from the screen to sit cube-like in front of me. Not bad. Not the Ultrasight but not too shabby, either. We were still the green dot, but now the concentric circles were spheres, and there were borders around the entire cube. Uneven borders.
“The borders our exit points?” I pointed to something behind and below our dot that looked familiar. “Is that the fan we just passed through, as an example?”
“Yes.” Lionside studied the grid. He pointed to the far, upper right, where there was some oddness in the border. It looked like stairs. “I believe that’s the exit point we want.”
“Those look like stairs.”
“They are indeed stairs.”
I tried to resist the question and couldn’t. “Why are there stairs leading in and out of Lake Disgusting? Who would willingly walk down into this?”
Lionside sighed. “The fan has to be cleaned out periodically to ensure it’s working at maximum. The spaceport sewage hold is drained and then the sanitation workers come down and check things over. We believe in keeping everything running and working at optimum at all times, Outland.”
I managed to refrain from comment. Besides, we’d been in the suits. I felt for the poor slobs who worked Herion sewage. I knew their pain. Or at least their smell.
We moved well through the muck. It wasn’t like flying a ’floater in the air, and it sure wasn’t like flying the Sixty-Nine, but it was a lot better than it had been in the pipe and the less said about the improvement over the fan the better. Still wasn’t fast, but slow and steady was winning this race so far. Besides, the last thing I wanted to do was hit something while we were immersed in Lake Disgusting, just in case. Damage to the tank would define the term “royally spaced.”
As I got the hang of moving us effectively, I noticed something. There were red dots. Moving red dots. Many moving red dots. And they were moving towards our green dot. Rapidly.
CHAPTER 58
“Okay, I’m going to ask a question, and I want to stress that I don’t want any sarcastic replies or jokes or even questions. I want concrete answers and I want them right away. As of this moment, the only person allowed sarcasm or a witty comeback is me. Got it?”
“Alexander, what are you going on about?”
“Governor, I’m glad you asked. There are a variety of fast-moving red dots heading towards our slow-moving green dot. In Mission Aqueesis: Depth Charge they would be some sort of horrible crap-loving monsters that would attack my ship in order to prevent my escape from Lake Disgusting. I’d like to know what the red dots are, and, if they’re what I just know in my gut they are, how I kill them.”
“What do you know in your gut they are, Outland?”
“Some horrible crap-loving monsters trying to attack our ship and kill us.”
“Impressive.” Lionside didn’t say anything else. I got the impression he was impressed with my ability to guess right.
“Miss Slinkie, you and I need to trade places. Immediately.” The Governor’s tone was brisk and urgent. Clearly the Governor agreed with my assessment of Lionside’s brief reply. That meant things were on the doomed side of bad.
Much shifting, cursing, knocking and whining ensued. I ignored it. The red dots were occupying all my attention. The Governor gave Slinkie some instructions as he was moved to the back and she was moved to the passenger’s seat.
The first red dot hit us as Slinkie was sliding into her seat. I managed to grab her and keep her head from slamming into the windshield. That she didn’t complain or even mention I’d stopped her by grabbing one of her impressively perfect breasts meant we were in deep, well, crap. I didn’t spend a lot of time enjoying the feel—unless we got out of this alive, I wasn’t going to get to feel the rest of Slinkie. Positive motivation still worked on me.
Slinkie activated what, on a Zyzzx ’floater would be the mapping compartment, that little box built in to let you store your hand-held navigation receiver and anything else you could cram in. On Herion, it was the weapons compartment. I was almost impressed. Until I took a look.
“Slink, are you holding a toy gun?”
“In a way.” She sounded guarded. She activated something else and a cube similar to the one I had in front of me came to life in front of her.
“Want to explain what way?”
“You said I couldn’t be sarcastic.”
The next red dot hit. “And you were obeying me?” I tried not to let the shock show in my voice as the tank shook.
“You sounded upset.” Slinkie pointed the toy gun at one of the red dots and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened.
“I am upset. We’re in Lake Disgusting instead of on the Sixty-Nine . Every time I turn around someone’s trying to kill us. And Lionside got to cop a lot of the cheap feels when he helped you into your seat.”<
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“Like you didn’t cop a big one?” She sounded headed back to normal. She was also still pointing the toy gun and firing it.
“Is that actually doing anything?” I refused to acknowledge that she’d noted the feel. Besides, other things to pay attention to, like red dots slamming into us and my Weapons Chief apparently playing pretend.
The Governor sighed. “Yes. It’s the External Attack Eliminator. Feature only found on Hulkinator models.”
“You’re in love with our tankfloater. How sweet.”
“It was only found on Hulkinators because it didn’t work well,” Lionside said.
“So, I’m just wasting my time?” Slinkie sounded like she was ready to point the toy gun at Lionside.
“No. If you notice, you’re hitting the attacking merderians. However, it takes several hits to destroy one.”
“Merderians?”
“Underwater, ah, crap eaters. Yes. Small but very territorial and quite strong for their size. Very useful for the larger wastes that come in from space.”
There was a thudding silence, followed quickly by a few thuds as more merderians hit the tank. “So, Lionside… tell me if I’m right. They can and will eat something solid. Say, solid like a tankfloater?”
“Yes. But it takes time.”
I counted. “There are fifty of them if there are two. How much time?”
“We might want to hurry up, Outland.”
Slinkie started firing her toy gun a lot. I was gratified to see a couple of the red dots disappear. Sadly, many more of them seemed just fine. And attached to our vehicle.
“Captain, must advise you that the riots and other problems will converge on our location within ten minutes.”
“Thanks, Audrey. I didn’t have quite enough pressure before. Good of you to cover that lack.”
“You’re most welcome, Captain.”
“Audrey? Remind Randolph to add in the comprehension of massive sarcasm to your programming.”
“Already in, Captain.”
It figured. “Randolph! I don’t know how, but you need to figure out how to get rid of Herion’s versions of killer remoras.”
“See, Nap? I told you this was just like Mission Aqueesis: Depth Charge.” He sounded so cheerful. I couldn’t wait to get out of here so I could kill him.
“Yeah? Well, whatever we need to do to survive this, do it.”
“You’ve got a universal communicator with you?”
“Yeah, it’s Lionside’s.”
“Good. Put it as close to a window as you can, but don’t touch it.”
Slinkie muttered something about featherbrained nincompoops, but she tossed the communicator onto the dashboard. “It’s there.”
“Good. Slinkie, are you shooting something at them?”
“Yes. What Nap thinks is a toy gun. I think it’s more useless than that.”
“It’s not. I want you to point it at the communicator and hold the trigger down.”
“What? Randolph, is there anything in your head besides feathers?”
“Just do it. Nap, Audrey’s going to send a sonic sequence through the communicator. The External Attack Eliminator will enhance the sound.”
“Should we plan on being deaf?”
“No. Subsonic, not super. Not to worry, Nap.”
“Oh, no, Randolph. I’m not worried at all.”
“That’s the spirit.” I heard him muttering. It sounded technical. I ignored it.
The only positive I had about the merderians was that they weren’t stopping us and really didn’t seem to be slowing us down. But our green dot was invisible now in the swarm of red dots, and it didn’t take genius to guess we had a lot less time than ten minutes to get out or drown in what I, personally, felt would be the worst thing to drown in in the history of the galaxy.
“There’s only one risk,” Lionside said quietly.
“Only one? Wow, we’re moving up in the risk world. What risk is that?”
“If the resonance is right, it could shatter the glass.”
I opened my mouth to tell Randolph not to push his proverbial button down, but I was too late. I felt, rather than heard, every part of the tankfloater start to vibrate. I heard, rather than felt, a terrifying thing—a loud, cracking sound.
CHAPTER 59
“Sorry about that,” the Governor said. “My knuckles have been killing me all day. Finally got a good pop.”
“I’ll hurt him, Nap, you just keep getting us out of here.” Tanner sounded serious. I had to admit it—I liked the kid.
“I’ll assist young Not-Really-Almondinger if needed, Outland. Sir, may I request you not pop anything else until we’re out of this particular holding facility?”
The Governor and Lionside started arguing about who had the right to tell whom to shut up and not make unpleasant bodily sounds. At least they weren’t on bodily odors. I gave it no more than five minutes. Sadly, I gave us less than that.
Per the grid, we were closing in on the steps. Per the dots, we were still had the galaxy’s worst merderian infestation, though I could see many more of the dots breaking up and disappearing.
“Nap.” Slinkie’s voice was a whisper. “I think I smell something.”
“Pray it’s the Governor manifesting his rights as the ancient oldster to not only pop and lock, but belch and fart.”
“I heard that, Alexander.”
“Tell me I’m not exaggerating.”
“It’s not me.” The Governor sounded highly offended.
“It’s him,” Slinkie said, clearly relieved. “That’s how he always says it when he’s cut one and wants to blame it on a dog we don’t have.”
The Governor protested and Slinkie was now involved in the conversation. She still had the gun perfectly aimed and her finger never relaxed on the trigger, even though she was turned halfway around in her seat. I felt the urge to survive grow stronger.
“Come on.” I said it under my breath. To the tank. It didn’t want to die, at least as much as I didn’t, I knew. And it was the one getting eaten. “Come on, big guy. You can do it. You can show them all.”
The merderians were coming off, but not fast enough. I had to stop acting like we were in a sea of excrement and instead act like we were in space. I was good in space, the best. There were space remoras—usually harmless, unless you flew through a herd of them, and then they could cause you real problems. There were only a few safe ways to get them off, all of which involved landing on a planet. But there were a couple very unsafe ways to get them off while you were moving.
I put the ’floater into a spin, as fast as it could manage. I was impressed—it was faster than I’d figured. We were spinning on our axis like an older but still on-stage ballerina. Sadly, what I’d forgotten was that there was no GravCreate on the ’floater like we had on the Sixty-Nine.
Passengers and other things started to flip around, including the universal communicator. Everyone was yelling at me, but I watched the grid—we were losing merderians a lot faster this way and making forward motion at the same time. The tank liked to spin wildly as it flew. Who would’ve guessed?
Happily, nothing that was flipping was hitting me. Slinkie had herself braced, one foot holding the communicator against the windshield, still shooting the toy gun accurately, knee on the seat, other hand on the roof. I couldn’t wait to live through this and get her somewhere even semi-private.
“Hang on.”
“Doing my feathered best, Nap,” she snapped. I didn’t share that I’d been talking to the tank again. I was many things, but moronic wasn’t one of them.
The spinning was helping with more than merderian removal. We were truly speeding up, almost like we were drilling through the crap instead of trying to swim in it. “Lionside, what’re we going to hit after the stairs?”
“I’m going to hit you, Outland. But other than that, the doors down here are rarely if ever locked. No one in their right mind wants to come down into the space sewage holding facility.”
“Right, so I’ll assume they’re locked, bolted and reinforced, just for us.” I knew how our luck worked. “Anything else that’s almost never activated?”
“Only the lasers.”
Lionside shared this as we crested the crap. The grid shifted and went very rectangular. The windshield wipers were the hardest working in the solar system at least, so I could just see the stairs in front of us as we spun around. I decided to make my life a little less disgusting.
I held the ’floater in the air, just above the shallows of Lake Disgusting and the stairway to heaven, and kept it spinning. Crap and merderians flew off and hit all the available surfaces. Did this until we had no more red dots on us. Then I slowed the spin, engaged the all-terrain mechanism, and set the tank down. We started up the stairs. It was bumpy and uncomfortable, and the whining from my crew was unreal, but we were no longer submerged and being chewed to bits.
“So, Lionside. These lasers, what do they do?”
“They prevent juvenile delinquency.”
“Come again?”
“They keep the kids out of here,” Tanner supplied. He sounded like he was doing better. Either that, or he was too jumbled up to be sick. Or already had been. I chose not to look behind me. “You know, youthful pranks.”
“On Zyzzx, there is no kid you can find youthful or prankster enough to come to the sewage holding facility to steal crap, no matter how much they hate someone or how big the dare is.” I knew this for solid fact. If I’d refused to do it, no one on Zyzzx would do it. Not that I’d held any kind of leadership role there. I’d been desperate to prove myself when I was a kid—according to my Great-Aunt Clara, the most desperate in the history of the galaxy—and I’d turned down all the sewage facility dares like I was the king of the universe.
“We’re different on Herion,” Lionside supplied.
“Yeah, I’ve picked that up. So, what do these lasers do? Damage-wise, I mean?”
“They aren’t deadly. They give an electroshock, mostly. They work as a deterrent, not a final solution.”