Pew! Pew! - The Quest for More Pew!

by M. D. Cooper

  “Sure.” Wes offered the weapon to her.

  “Ow,” she snapped, dropping it to the deck the moment her fingers closed around it. “It shocked me.”

  “Oh this is is hilarious,” Tantor said, looming behind Wes. It was just as terrifying as it had been in the ship, pistols or not. The big man smiled. “I’m betting the weapons are keyed to the kid somehow. We all saw what happened to the amulet. I think our archeologist just took the Elderi course on becoming a certified badass.”

  Before Wes could respond the pistols grew hot in his hands, then they began to vibrate. There was a bright flash and they simply disappeared. He could feel them inside his body somehow. “Well that’s certainly handy.”

  “Yeah, wonderful. Disappearing guns,” Tysha said, all business again. “Here’s the thing. If nobody can touch them, then we can’t sell them. How much are those books worth? Please say a lot, because we don’t quite have enough fuel to make it to the closest station.”

  Wes clamped his mouth shut for a moment. Those books were priceless. Beyond priceless. Even if they were copies of existing works, they’d still be immensely valuable. But if they were undiscovered titles? Houses might kill to posses them. They’d be snapped up, disappearing into private collections before anyone had a chance to read them.

  “Not terribly valuable I’m afraid,” Wes said, giving an exaggerated sigh.

  “At least we’re alive,” Sadie said, grinning.

  “Yeah, but we are, once again, walking away with nothing,” Tysha said, a glower descending. Tantor matched the expression.

  “I’m not sure sure about that, Captain,” Wes said, nudging her in the shoulder. He pointed at the marbok vessel. “How do you feel about upgrading your ship?”

  9

  “So what did you find?” Tysha asked as Sadie strode onto the Marbok bridge. Wes tried not to stare. Well not really. But he couldn’t be blamed.

  “Not much. Cargo hold is empty, and they have next to no replacement parts.” Sadie’s face split into a grin. “The good news is the engine is in good repair and the ship works. Right down to the air filters. I could keep this thing flying for months on what we’ve already got. This must be what being rich feels like.”

  “How are we for fuel?” Tysha demanded, turning to Kestrel.

  The pilot was bent over the terminal, a cable snaking from her temple. “Full. We can travel anywhere within about ten light years before we need to recharge. This thing has a drive the size of the Shirley.”

  “So that’s the real question, then. Where do we go from here?” Tysha beamed a grin at the crew, which seemed to include Wes now.

  “We’re short on liquid capital. We need a paying job,” Tantor pointed out, in a rare show of verbosity.

  “You mean we’re broke,” Sadie said, glaring at the melter. “Yeah, we’re all aware of that. Way to sprinkle debris on our filters.”

  “I might have a way to change that,” Wes said, before the thought was even fully formed. Sadie turned those eyes on him, so hopeful. It took a moment to realize they were all staring at him. “Oh, uh, yeah. There’s a planet about two light years from here, the Rykal system. There’s a symbol identical to the one on the spire. Maybe we can find a way inside?”

  “Isn’t that planet full of dragons?” Sadie’s eyes became saucers.

  “Eh, lizards are no big deal. Kid’s plan is as good a plan as any.” Tysha clapped Wes hard enough on the shoulder to knock him forward a half step. “Kestrel, get this thing fired up. It’s about time we found ourselves another adventure.”

  THE END

  — — —

  Want to read more by Chris Fox?

  The Magitech Chronicles

  How would you choose to die?

  Aran is a Tech Mage, forced to steal magic from the body of a dead god, given a spellrifle and spellarmor, then sent to the front to battle the inhuman Krox.

  Check out the book, artwork, and world info at:

  magitechchronicles.com

  About the Author

  Chris is the author of the bestselling author of The Void Wraith trilogy, The Ganog Wars, and the Deathless Saga. He spends his time making crap up, and still can’t believe he gets away with it.

  Check out more of my fiction free:

  chrisfoxwrites.com

  The Gli+chover

  by Drew Avera

  If coming home from a failed trip to Europa wasn’t bad enough, an alien invasion and food poisoning are about to give Ben the worst day of his life.

  After a devastatingly crushing, utterly suicidal, incredibly stupid trip to Europa, Ben returns to Earth embarrassed and defeated. But Earth isn’t the home he left behind. In orbit, a mass of darkness looms threateningly, and it is the only thing standing between Ben and surviving.

  Running out of food on his ship, the Shistain, becomes the least of his problems as he grows ill eating tainted Vienna sausages only to discover that aliens have invaded the planet and it is up to Ben to save the world.

  With his first mate Chip, a gay sex robot, he rushes towards Earth between hellish bouts with nausea and crippling hallucinations. In order to survive the ordeal, Ben must put his life in the hands of an android struggling with a corrupt software update that makes him hornier than a fourteen-year-old boy at cheerleader camp.

  What could go wrong?

  For Ben, potentially everything.

  Chap+er One

  The history of humanity is wrought by war. War is nothing more than the machination of innovation; or so the prudish assholes who love war and Fascism would say on the documentaries about World War IV. But there is truth in what they say: war demands innovation, and many of these innovations have changed humanity. Through war, we discovered a way to create bombs containing biological hazards to kill our fellow man. But anything that can be engineered can also be reverse engineered. So, Virus X can be countered by Antivirus Y, and Virus Y can be neutralized with Antivirus X. So, it seems that eventually humans will toss bombs at one another ad nauseam until there’s nothing on this planet that poses a threat to us anymore. Of course, the innovation associated with war never prepared a means to remedy human stupidity or a farking alien invasion.

  “Do you see that, Chip?” Ben shouted, pointing at the monitor in the cockpit of his ship, the Shistain. “Those giant pods are all around the planet.”

  “I’m sorry, Ben, but I don’t see anything on the screen other than Earth,” Chip replied. He turned to look at Ben with his eyebrows raised.

  “Are you serious? Look, right here.” Ben’s index finger contacted the screen, causing a yellowish halo to appear around his finger where he pressed against it. “Tell me, you still can’t see that shit.”

  “I don’t see anything at all other than the dark side of Earth where the sun is not shining. Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

  Ben shifted in his seat, taking a deep breath as he tilted his head to the side, popping the vertebrae in his neck. “I’ve been better. What does that have to do with anything?”

  “You’re just not acting like yourself. You’ve been fidgety and sweating a lot lately. Besides, this isn’t the first thing you’ve seen that I don’t.”

  Ben shook his head, not wanting to start this conversation again. It had been three weeks since he ran out rations on his return trip from Europa. In that time, Chip was able to find an old case of Vienna Sausages that tasted like motor oil and hotdog water. With that as his only source of food, Ben had been dealing with a case of diarrhea the size of something celestial. Other than the dehydration and the constant, profuse sweating, Ben felt as good as he thought he should, given the circumstances. “I’m fine—just keep an eye out. Maybe these aliens are using some type of dampener to keep you from being able to see them.”

  “If that was the case, don’t you think you wouldn’t be able to see them either because the Shistain’s sensor arrays are also a computer-based system?”

  Chip has a point, Ben thought, but maybe the computer system of the
Shistain is so outdated that the aliens didn’t think to block it. Yeah, that’s it, that’s why I’m the only one that can see them.

  “Chip, strap in, I want to try some evasive maneuvering to see if I can get past their shields.”

  Chip did as he was instructed, pulling the shoulder harnesses over himself and buckling into place. “I don’t mean to argue with you,” Chip said, “but if the alien ships are actually there, how do you propose to get the Shistain past their defenses? You don’t have weapons and you can’t simply maneuver past a shield, that doesn’t make any sense. Besides, evasive means to evade, not go towards them.”

  Ben smirked, “Buddy, I haven’t spent the last fourteen months on the ship without learning a thing or two about evasive maneuvering. I just wish I had a weapons system on board so I can blast these bastards out of the dark.”

  “It’s unfortunate those evasive maneuvering skills were not present when the pirates came aboard,” Chip said. “It could have saved us a lot of time and energy.”

  Ben glared at his companion, knowing that sarcasm was not part of the sexbot’s programing, but could be a learned trait nonetheless. “Fark you,” Ben seethed, gritting his teeth as he tightened his own harnesses.

  Next to Ben, Chip shifted uneasily in the seat, adopting movement he’d seen in multiple sitcoms Ben illegally downloaded from the net before taking off from Earth for Europa. It was Chip’s way to try and become more human-like. Ben thought it was both endearing and annoying as hell, considering some of the movements reflected moods inappropriate for the situation, but this one was spot on. “Good luck, Captain,” Chip said.

  “Luck? I don’t need any farking luck,” Ben said as he gripped the controls and accelerated the ship. “Watch this.”

  “What do you mean, watch this?” Chip said as the Shistain immediately dipped in pitch, making the loose articles on the ship levitate off the deck for a few seconds before slamming back to the deck when the artificial gravity caught hold. “The ship isn’t designed for this type of flying, Ben, and we don’t have enough reserve fuel for you to be doing anything foolish,” Chip said, the sound of actual worry in his voice. It was merely part of the modifications Ben had done to pass the time on the ship and to make living with a gay sexbot with the sex drive of a fifteen-year-old bearable. Most days, Ben was thankful he no longer had to convince Chip that he wasn’t interested in what the sexbot had to offer. Other days, Ben reflected fondly on the awkward situation provided by having an insatiably horny sexbot on the ship. Even if the memories were a more comedic version of how those situations played out.

  “Didn’t you see I had to dodge the incoming missile?” Ben asked, sweat pouring from his face. “You might not be able to die, but me,” he patted himself on the chest, “I’m not trying to rupture the hull and experience death by vacuum.”

  “What missile? What are you talking about?”

  “Oh shit, here’s another one,” Ben snapped as he jerked at the controls, sending the ship into a starboard roll as the external thrusters engaged and assisted in the maneuver. “That was farking close.”

  Chip took hold of the console, and brought up his own monitor. With a few swift movements of his hand, he had the same view as Ben. “I have no idea what you’re seeing out there, but it looks like nothing more than utter darkness surrounding Earth. I see a few flickering lights from the thousands of satellites orbiting the planet, but I don’t see any massive alien spacecraft like you’re suggesting.”

  “No? Well, like I said, maybe their tech is so advanced that they’re masking themselves from you. Perhaps the mothership is farking with your mind.”

  “I don’t think it works that way.” Chip looked at Ben with his eyebrows raised. “Are you certain you are feeling all right? I’m getting concerned.”

  Ben groaned and wiped sweat from his brow. “I’m really not feeling very good,” he admitted as he leaped from the pilot seat and ran back towards the galley where the open trash receptacle waited. Ben relinquished his last meal into the open container and fell to his knees before passing out.

  Chip rose from his seat and engaged the autopilot as he walked back to where Ben was lying on the ground. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but I think it’s time we get you home,” he said as he knelt and lifted the human onto his broad shoulders. He lay Ben on the rickety couch and covered him with a blanket. “This fever seems to be getting worse, too,” he muttered.

  Chip walked back to the cockpit and grabbed the radio. “Earth, this is Benjamin Dale, captain of the Shistain, can you hear me?”

  Static filled the air, causing the speakers to squeel until a voice finally answered, “Shistain, this is air traffic control, I read you loud and clear.”

  “Air traffic control, Shistain, we are two days out from Earth and I have someone in need of medical attention. Can you please have emergency services on standby?”

  A long pause followed before a response. “Copy that, you have a passenger in need of medical assistance on board Shistain. Please upload your travel data and port information so we can make that happen for you,” the air traffic controller said.

  Chip pressed the icons on the console for replying, “I’m uploading that data now, thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, Shistain, please let us know if you need further assistance.”

  Silence filled the ship as the radio speakers went quiet, until the sound of vomit splattering against the deck from Ben throwing up again filled Chip’s ears. He turned and looked at the mess while Ben looked at him, his eyes suggesting many possible responses, but Chip knew the appropriate one flowing through Ben’s mind as his limp hand twitched in the pool of vomit. “Fark.”

  Ben stared at Chip groggily as the sexbot wiped the vomit off the floor of the ship. “I’m sorry,” Ben said for the thirtieth time. He felt terrible, not just physically, but mentally as well as whatever virus attacking his body was taking its toll on him.

  “It’s all right,” Chip replied as he tossed another disgusting bundle of paper towel into the trashcan. Most ships had recycling capability and stored only hazardous material as waste, but the cargo area of the Shistain was beginning to pile up with trash after several months of being in space. “I’m no doctor, but I really think there is something wrong with you.”

  Ben rolled over on the couch, holding his stomach, hoping to keep whatever was inside there. “Sometimes I feel fine,” Ben said, “and other times—” Ben was cut off by another stabbing pain in his stomach.

  Chip backed away as Ben rolled over again, hanging his head over the side of the couch as if he was about to vomit all over the deck again, but this time he only dry heaved.

  “You really need to stay hydrated,” Chip said as he rose from a kneeling position and sanitized his hands. “But unfortunately, we’re running dangerously low on water rations.” The sexbot looked at Ben with a sad expression. Ben only half noticed as his eyes rolled to the back of his head and another fit of delirium took hold of him. Ben knew the fever was spreading, and he had no form of medication to dampen the symptoms and to keep him acting more like himself. Chip was powerless too, but Ben was thankful that the sexbot could at least control the ship and get him home.

  “Have the alien spaceships moved?” he asked, trying to focus on something besides the pain and the fact the cabin was suddenly spinning.

  Chip shook his head, knowing whatever Ben thought he experienced was due to fever-induced hallucinations. Chip knew it wasn’t logical to feed into Ben’s paranoia, but trying to argue about the existence of alien spaceships didn’t do either one of them any good. And Chip’s first priority was Ben’s safety.

  “There’s been no change, Ben.”

  Ben tried to sit up on the couch, but another wave of nausea caused him to sink back, shoving his face deep into the cushioned crevice where the light of the cabin did not penetrate. His voice was muffled as he spoke, but Chip could understand every word. “I’ve gotta do something about it,” Ben said.


  “You’re in no condition to do anything. Besides, I have the autopilot on and the sensor array is keeping track of everything.” Chip knew the sensor array was not going to pick up whatever hallucinations Ben was having, but he hoped that by saying so, Ben would at least feel better about the situation.

  “Thank you, Chip. You’re an outstanding first mate.”

  Chip smiled at the complement. “Why, thank you, Ben. I’m so happy that you think so. Why don’t you rest for now, and try to take your mind off things?” Chip used the only response that seemed appropriate at the time while the greenish hue of Ben’s face made Chip grow more concerned. “I’ll take care of everything, Captain.”

  Before Ben had the opportunity to respond, he passed out, leaving Chip to the sound of a quiet ship and the growing concern sparking across his circuitry. Robots were not designed for empathy or concern, but Chip no longer thought of himself in those terms. Chip no longer considered himself a robot. He was Ben’s first mate, his companion. Ben was family and that meant something to humans. What that meant to Chip, though, was not clear yet, but he was working on finding out.

  Chap+er +wo

  Startling awake, Ben jumped from his position on the couch in a panic and ran towards the cockpit of the Shistain. His stomach still churned as each footfall brought him closer to the pilot’s seat—or throwing up again. “Chip, how could you let me sleep at a time like this?” he asked, his voice raised high enough for Chip to hear him from across the ship. Ben fell into the pilot’s seat, his clammy hands gripping the controls to disengage the autopilot. It took three attempts, and Ben could not tell if it was a mechanical failure or the fact he was seeing three of everything and had a hard time focusing on what he was looking at. Perhaps both, knowing my luck, he thought.