by M. D. Cooper
Mr. Fizzle Pop scowled. “NO LIKE YOU.”
“Is there anyone you do like?”
Mr. Fizzle Pop’s ears twitched. “MAIN ASSHOLE. RICKET. BUBBS. GIRLS RULE. BOYS DROOL.”
Kylie laughed and covered her mouth to hide it as Ricket returned to the galley.
“Sorry, it took longer than expected,” Ricket said in greeting. “We’re ready for the transfer. Two nights from now, there will be a shuttle waiting for us on platform twenty-two. They want us to deliver a cryopod with you in it.”
Kylie nodded, feeling a little nervous. “We’ll need to modify the pod so it says I’m in stasis even though I’m not.”
“We’ll do our best,” Rogers said with a wink.
Kylie pressed her lips together. “Hope you’ll do a little better than that.”
“Hey!”
“Platform twenty-two, that’s generally a public transportation platform,” Grayson said. “Special charter, taxis. University district.” He looked to Ricket for confirmation.
“Sounds correct. Aligns with what my contact said, Colonel.”
“You don’t need to call him ‘colonel’,” Kylie said with a laugh. “You can call him Grayson.”
Ricket chuckled. “Sorry, old habits die hard. I was in the Transcend’s space force for a few decades before I joined the Hand.”
Grayson didn’t appear to hear as he stroked his chin in a thoughtful manner.
“What’s the matter?” Kylie asked and laid a hand on his arm.
“Nothing. I don’t think. If my memory serves, that’s the same platform that was used to kidnap Lana and get her out of Silstrand.”
“Strange coincidence,” Rogers said.
“Or something more.” Grayson rose from the table. “I’m going to set up monitoring all over that platform; make sure you’re not going into this blind.”
Kylie stood up. “You’re rushing off so soon?”
“I have to check into the office, manage the search for you, and hand in my report that there were no clues to be found on the Barbaric Queen.”
Those sounded like good reasons, but he looked stiff, even for him.
“What’s really bothering you?” she wanted to know.
“You’ve all done a great job, but something’s off. Everything’s too pat. Too easy. I’m going to review comm logs around the attacks and look for anything fishy, see if I can figure this out before you’re put in harm’s way.”
“So…your colonel senses are tingling?” Rogers asked.
Grayson gave him a smirk and squeezed Kylie’s hand.
As Grayson left, Kylie turned and watched him go, feeling Ricket’s hand on her shoulder.
“If something’s amiss, he’ll figure it out. And if he’s worrying for nothing, it’s still good that he’s checking.”
Kylie nodded. “Yeah, his paranoia runs deep.”
“He’s cut from the same cloth you are. Not the type to lay low and stay off the trail.”
“That’s the part that worries me,” Kylie whispered.
* * * * *
Grayson sat at a desk in a small office he’d commandeered in the SAFI building at Delphin Reach.
His initial suspicions were easy to confirm—the handoff was indeed scheduled to take place on the same platform as the one used for Lana’s kidnapping. Of the thousands of transportation hubs all over Silstrand, whoever was behind this had picked that same one.
In recent weeks, Grayson had learned that Lana’s initial grab had been make by the Mark, a near-defunct group of pirates that seemed to keep cropping up, even though they should have long since given up and died.
And now the same pirates are targeting Kylie for a bounty. What are the odds?
Something was happening beneath the surface. Grayson needed to figure out what it was before Kylie put herself on the line to out these assholes. After everything they had gone through, he wasn’t going to lose her when they were so close to finally getting free of the mess they’d been mired in for so long.
A notice on his HUD lit up as a new meeting was added to his schedule.
Great, Grayson thought, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes, noting that it was a strategy meeting regarding responses to the Revolution Fleet ships that were still thought to be lurking beyond Silstrand’s heliopause.
He accepted the meeting request just as a knock came on his door. Glancing up, he saw Ginia, Samuel’s assistant standing in the doorway. He gestured for her to enter.
“Chief Ginia, I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”
“Sorry to bother you, Colonel. General Samuel wanted an update on your search for Kylie Rhoads. Has her crew been questioned?”
“Yes, I was on their ship, speaking to them myself this morning. Unfortunately, no one seems to know anything. Tell him not to worry, though. We’ll find her. He can bet on it.”
Interesting.
“I’m sorry this is all happening,” Ginia replied. “I heard from Samuel that you and Kylie were close once.”
“Married for a few years,” Grayson said.
“Oh, wow! This must be really hard on you.”
He nodded. “I made some mistakes, told a few lies. There were things I should’ve said but didn’t. I hope one day to make it up to her. Prove I can be different.”
“No offense, Colonel, but that doesn’t sound like you at all. I can’t believe you’d lie.”
“In the line of duty, an officer is capable of anything. Isn’t that right?”
Ginia’s face reddened slightly, and she nodded. “Yes, sir. Well, good day. I’ll let the general know the investigation is still ongoing.”
She excused herself and left Grayson behind.
<’Ongoing’…that was weak. Well?> he asked.
Damn, he thought. If she was sent here by General Samuel…. What the hell is he up to?
Grayson hoped he had time to find out.
* * * * *
Ginia breathed a sigh of relief as she closed the colonel’s door and hurried down the corridor. The more distance between her and Grayson, the better.
METAL ASSHOLE
STELLAR DATE: 02.22.8948 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Barbaric Queen, orbiting Silstrand
REGION: Silstrand System, Silstrand Alliance
Mr. Fizzle Pop loved the new servitor. It provided him with meals, cakes, coffee, and any leftovers they might have once had in the fridge—much of which now resided in his belly.
Still, something about it bothered him.
Maybe it was how obedient it was. Maybe it was because it never complained about his requests—all things that were good, but weird. But no, Mr. Fizzle Pop was really bothered by how many times the servitor headed into the ship’s engineering section.
Sure, it was a great place for a warm nap, but servitors didn’t nap. So Mr. Fizzle Pop decided to follow it. He watched from atop a conduit run, slinking alo
ng carefully. If the machine noticed him, it didn’t seem to care that it was being followed.
Once it reached the central engineering control room, the servitor approached a console and did something that the cat couldn’t figure out with all the squiggly lines that humans seemed to care about so much.
It seemed wrong that the machine that was supposed to make food was doing things to the ship’s engines, so the cat meandered toward the bridge, eventually arriving to find Rogers laying on his back, fixing something beneath his flight console.
Funny, Mr. Fizzle Pop thought.
It looked like Pilot Asshole was doing something with the AI navigation interface that Kingfisher had deactivated years ago. He wondered what that was all about and felt a bit excited at the prospect. Mr. Fizzle Pop loved talking to AIs.
“HEY,” Mr. Fizzle Pop said, sitting back on his haunches next to Rogers. “SERVITOR BAD. SERVITOR SNOOP.”
Rogers didn’t pause in his work. “What was that, MFP?”
He really wished the assholes wouldn’t call him that!
“METAL ASSHOLE SNOOP!”
“He’s doing his job. Nothing to get worried about.”
Mr. Fizzle Pop furrowed his already deeply furrowed brow.
Mr. Fizzle Pop knew he had to work at where he thought things. Deciding that Rogers was no help, he turned his back to the human and sent a message to Marge. She’d understand what he was trying to say.
Marge giggled.
Mr. Fizzle Pop wished the assholes on the ship would understand that the ship was his home. They were the ones who stole it. He wanted to keep it safe.
It was his. Not theirs.
Mr. Fizzle Pop opened his eyes real wide and jumped up.
Marge had the best games.
Satisfied that the AI would watch the servitor, Mr. Fizzle Pop continued on his way.
He smelled freshly cooked food and headed toward the galley at top speed. Inside, he saw the evil servitor washing dishes from an earlier meal. Kylie and Ricket were in there too, sitting at the table side by side having a conversation.
Ricket rubbed her hands together and smelled like she was upset about something.
Ricket shook her head.
“We’re having a private conversation, MFP,” Kylie said.
“That’s because it’s private.” Kylie said her words forcefully.
Mr. Fizzle Pop didn’t like her tone. He thought he might go scratch at her pillows.
Mr. Fizzle Pop didn’t understand half of what she said.
Ricket laughed.
Ricket sighed.
Oops, Mr. Fizzle Pop hadn’t meant to say that out loud, either. He had to get better so he’d stop upsetting the sensitive humans. He made mistakes, he wasn’t perfect. He was, however, lonely, so he headed to the one place that made him feel better.
Bubbs’ quarters.
Inside, everything was as she had left it. Bed unmade, various arm attachments scattered on the table, and a secret box of scarves under the bed no one knew about. It was curious because Bubbs didn’t wear scarves, she only bought them. Said they made her feel better.
Humans were weird, but he still missed Bubbs. That’s why he liked her room: it smelled like her.
Mr. Fizzle Pop worked his big butt under the bed so he could nap in the box of scarves, then he noticed the other box. The box that he had been told to avoid.
‘Don’t get in it. Don’t look at it. And don’t touch it!’
He heard the words in Bubbs’s voice, as she had said it often enough.
But Bubbs wasn’t here, was she? No, she’d left him, and that made him mad.
Mr. Fizzle Pop decided he was going to touch whatever he wanted.
He poked at the box filled with multi-colored pieces. They were small, with ridges and bumps on the top. He remembered Bubbs snapping them together to make cars, tanks, space ships. That was a long time ago, back when they worked for Kingfisher.
Nice guy. Too bad the new team killed him. Oh well. Mr. Fizzle Pop did what he had to to survive. New team was growing on him, but he wished they hadn’t killed so many of his friends.
Since meeting Kylie and her friends, life had become a little hectic.
What was it that Bubbs had called these little plastic things, that one time he’d accidentally dumped them on the floor and she’d stepped on a small pile of them?
“Those damn Lego!” she’d said.
“LEGOS,” Mr. Fizzle Pop had corrected. “MORE THAN ONE.”
Humans were so bad at grammar.
Bubbs had scowled in that way Mr. Fizzle Pop loved, and his heart had felt light.
“Always Lego,” she’s said. “Always. No matter how many you have. Don’t forget it!”
“WON’T!” Mr. Fizzle Pop had promised, rubbing himself against her leg.
Bubbs had picked him up and then…
The memory was too painful.
Mr. Fizzle Pop forced it from his mind as an idea began to form. Suddenly, he knew exactly what he was going to do to deal with the metal asshole.
CROSSROADS
STELLAR DATE: 02.22.8948 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Samuel Residence, Silstrand City, Silstrand
REGION: Silstrand System, Silstrand Alliance
Grayson had been unable to reach General Samuel over the regular channel or even by doing a search for his Link presence. The man’s office was empty, and a quick ping at his home proved no help either.
Samuel’s wife?
Interesting.
The conversation with the house AI made Grayson feel more suspicious, not less. He met Maureen for lunch at the sandwich Café ‘That’s a Wrap!’ overlooking Fisher pond, near the base, w
here they sat on the terrace with sandwiches and iced tea.
Once Alice confirmed that the auditory disruption field was in place—coupled with a holoscreen that would alter their lip movements if anyone was watching—he finally allowed himself to relax a small amount.
Grayson picked up his Caesar salad wrap and stared at it for a moment before he spoke. He tried to come up with the best way to say the words, but ended up just blurting them out.
“I think Smithers and Samuel are working together. They’ve been in far more communication than their positions would call for, and Smithers has a vested interest in Kylie’s nano.”
Commander Maureen’s eyes widened, but after a moment, she nodded. “Sure, he was turned into little more than a figurehead of his own company. But what can he do with her nano? He can’t sell it, not while in Silstrand.”
“Not without being caught, but if he got Kylie out of the system….”
Maureen sighed as she chewed on her pickle. “What do you want to do, Colonel?”
“I don’t have enough evidence to accuse Samuel of anything. But if he’s lying about working late, and acting distracted at home, it increases the likelihood that I’m right.”
“The exchange is tonight,” Maureen said, working her jaw side to side.
“That’s why I wanted to talk to you. We need to be on alert. If Samuel is involved, then chances are that so are others in the SSF who are loyal to him. Even if they’re not in on it now, we can’t discount that they will get involved.”
“I’ll keep my eyes open, Colonel. Nothing will happen to Kylie on my watch. We’ll get whoever is behind this and blow the whole thing into the open. Though I wouldn’t argue for more time. Can we push the meet?”
Time was one thing Grayson didn’t think they had. “An extra day, and I’d have this nailed down.”
“Then Kylie’d miss the opening of the trial. Ricket and Rogers can’t stall.”
Grayson knew, he just wished they weren’t in a time crunch for once.
“How’s she doing?” Maureen asked.
“As well as can be expected. Her brother is going on trial, and we all know how the sentencing will go. Even if…even if Kylie wished it was something else entirely.”