Pew! Pew! - The Quest for More Pew!

by M. D. Cooper

  Banty’s huffing apparatus hit the floor. Liquid sloshed out of it. Lollololp froze mid-undulation. At the edge of the flight console, a finger of slime appeared, followed by the rest of Fred as she eased out.

  “That much?” Banty asked.

  Jaquil was less impressed than the others by the monetary reward. He had no intention of retiring aged twenty-seven. But that didn’t mean he wanted to back out of delivering Phoemian to the planet. His dreams of a career in trash had been replaced by a desire for adventure and excitement. He was prepared to take Phoemian to her destination, trouble or not. In fact, he wanted to go because there might be trouble.

  “So are we going to do it?” he asked.

  “I vote yes,” U8AB said. Jaquil suspected that his decision was based on the idea of further connections with Phoemian.

  “Yup, I guess so,” Banty said. “What d’you think, Lollo?”

  “Hmm...okay.”

  “Fred?”

  A series of short, popping farts signaled her approval of the idea.

  “We’re agreed then,” Banty said. “But we need to be extra, extra careful, everyone.”

  A sound like the ping of an elevator reaching its floor sounded from the ship’s intercom. Starblaster had arrived.

  Chapter Ten

  “So, we practically deliver you, collect our reward, and leave?” Banty asked Phoemian as Starblaster landed on the uncharted planet.

  “I think you mean basically,” U8AB interjected.

  Banty had spoken to a representative from the company over the comm, and the person had reassured her that they were happy to pay handsomely for delivery. But she remained cautious. “Seems much too easy. You sure they won’t try to trick us? They won’t take you and send us away with nothing?”

  “As I understand it,” Phoemian replied, “the amount of money they’ll pay is peanuts compared to the profits they’ll make when they scale up production of me. It isn’t worth their while to cause trouble and risk damaging their prototype.”

  Jaquil found it weird how casually Phoemian referred to herself as a product. On the surface she seemed to be an autonomous human being, yet she was handing herself over like she didn’t care what happened to her.

  “Okay, if you say so,” Banty said.

  “Do we have any weapons aboard?” Jaquil asked her.

  “Weapons? This is a trash ship. Just what kind of weapons d’ you suppose we have? Do you seriously think they we’ll need them? Maybe I should call this deal off.”

  Lollololp was hiccuping laughter again. “The kid thinks he’s in a vid-game.”

  But Jaquil wasn’t going to take the yellow maggot’s mockery lying down this time. “You might know trash, Banty, but you don’t know what you’re getting into here. It won’t hurt to have something to protect ourselves with in case of an attack.”

  “All we’ve got is equipment for dealing with trash,” Banty said. “If you find something you think you can use, you’re welcome to take it.”

  Starblaster touched down, and Jaquil’s safety straps retracted.

  “Come on, U8AB,” he said. “Let’s go take a look.”

  They went down to the storage locker in the hold where the tools were kept. A jumble of old machinery, appliances, and other apparatus was piled in a corner.

  “Gee,” Jaquil said as he began pulling items out of the heap, “how old is this stuff?”

  “Probably as old as the ship,” U8AB said, “so up to a couple hundred years. Some of these must date back to the time when garbage disposal was looked down upon.”

  Jaquil shook his head in wonder. He couldn’t imagine such an attitude. He came across an old-fashioned shovel that could deliver a hard blow at close quarters, and lifted it out. He found two similar shovels and passed all three to U8AB, who leaned them against the wall.

  “What’s this?” he asked, holding up a small machine with a long spout.

  “Hmmm. I believe that’s a flame-thrower. Occasionally, we’ll set fire to the trash to make it particularly annoying to the victims of the dump. Starblaster can do that herself nowadays.”

  “Flame-thrower?” Jaquil exclaimed. “That could come in very handy. Look. Here’s another one.”

  He also found two grappling hooks, used to pull trash down from the top of a pile for screening. Jaquil doubted that what they had was a match for the weapons that security guards of a rich company might carry, but they were better than nothing.

  “Do we really need all that?” Banty asked, eyeing Jaquil’s haul when and the others returned to the bridge. “Maybe this ain’t such a good idea. I don’t wanna retire that much.”

  “Aww, come on,” Jaquil protested. “This could be fun.”

  “We’re here now,” Phoemian said. “It’s too late to back out.”

  Through the ship’s window, the lights of a large industrial complex could be seen. It was deepest night on the planet surface.

  “Receiving a message from the boss,” Lollololp said from the comm console.

  “Open broadcast it, Lollo,” Banty said.

  “Welcome to our company,” came a voice over the intercom, “and thank you for bringing us a most prized delivery. We have your reward here in untraceable creds. Please bring out the prototype. We will perform the exchange outside your ship.”

  “Okay,” Banty said. “Let’s go.”

  “Wait,” Jaquil said. “I have an idea.” He seemed to be full of them lately. “Let’s do the exchange using a forklift. It’ll offer a little protection in case we meet that trouble the auto-augur was telling us about.”

  “All right,” said Banty. “I don’t see any harm in it.” She went to the comm mic. “We’ll be bringing out the product on a forklift. Please have the reward ready for exchange.”

  “I’ll do the driving,” Jaquil said. “I’ll take Phoemian over and bring back the creds.”

  “You do handle a forklift well,” said Banty. “Sure. You do it.”

  A long, squeaky fart came from under the flight console.

  “You can’t come too, Fred,” Banty said. “It ain’t safe. Why don’t you stay here and look after the ship?”

  Bubbles and wheezes of disagreement sounded.

  “I know you’re always responsible for the ship,” Banty replied. “I ask you because you’re so good at it.”

  Blurp, squeak, trumpet.

  “This ain’t the right time for learning new responsibilities, Fred. Maybe when—”

  A long, loud toot.

  “Aww, shit. We don’t have time for this. All right. You can come too. Sheesh!”

  Fred plopped to the floor and glided over it toward the door, surprisingly fast.

  “Lollo,” said Banty, “you’re in charge while we’re gone.”

  “My pleasure,” said the yellow tube.

  “Come on, Phoemian,” said Jaquil, feeling sad. He really liked the human-android hybrid, but she clearly wanted to go to the manufacturing company. It didn’t seem right to try to talk her out of it, and, after all, she did belong to them.

  As they went down to the hold, she was quiet.

  Jaquil loaded up a forklift with a flamethrower, shovel, and grappling hook. He divided the remaining tools between U8AB and Banty.

  He climbed into the cab and held out a hand to Phoemian. When he pulled her up into the cab with him, there wasn’t enough room for two, so Phoemian had to squeeze up close. He didn’t mind one bit.

  Starblaster’s engines were purring gently. Lollololp had the ship ready for a fast getaway. The hold door began to lower. Jaquil started up his forklift. Before he could pull away, however, he noticed that Fred was also making her way up into the cab. She oozed through the open window. He waited until the slime mold was on board before driving toward the opening exit.

  The hold door was nearly down. Outside, the shadowy buildings of an industrial complex could be seen, brilliantly edged with lights. Behind them was the star-scattered, deep blue-black night sky. In front of the buildings was a circle o
f dark figures, silhouetted against the artificial lights. Jaquil’s stomach knotted as he saw what looked like weapons in some of the figures’ arms. These guys were serious.

  “You drive out with her,” said Banty. “We’ll walk alongside you,”

  Jaquil looked left and right and was heartened by the sight of Banty and U8AB bearing their trash-equipment weapons. Banty was an imposing size and U8AB glinted with reflected light. Everyone was well out of their depth, but they were giving it all they had. Even Fred had gelled to a firmer consistency as she sat on the dashboard. As the forklift trundled slowly closer to the waiting figures. Jaquil stole a glance at Phoemian. Her face was in profile, her calm features highlighted. He was going to miss her.

  “I guess it’ll be good to get to work,” he said.

  “Oh, I don’t think they’re going to put me to work.”

  “But you’re glad to arrive finally?” Jaquil asked.

  “I’m glad about everything,” Phoemian said. “That’s how I’ve been programmed.”

  “What? You mean nothing affects how you feel?”

  “That’s right, unless my autonomy suppressor is turned off. Then my feelings and reactions are my own.”

  Jaquil hit the brake. He turned to face his cab companion. “Wait a minute. You mean you don’t have any control over how you feel about things?”

  “Not at the moment. Like I said, my autonomy suppressor prohibits it.”

  “But...What about coming here?” Jaquil asked. “How do you think you would feel if your suppressor were turned off?”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t like it at all,” Phoemian replied cheerfully. “They’ll take me apart, I imagine, to examine my components. I won’t exist anymore.” She smiled.

  “What’s wrong?” Banty said, peering over the edge of the window.

  “Phoemian doesn’t want to be here,” Jaquil exclaimed. “They’re going to dismantle her.”

  “No, that isn’t right,” Phoemian said. “I do want to be here.”

  A voice called out from the distant, waiting figures. “Why have you stopped? Bring us our prototype immediately.”

  “That don’t make any sense,” Banty said. “She asked us to bring her here.”

  “Please take me over now,” said Phoemian.

  “See?” said Banty.

  “She just told me she’s been fitted with something that stops her from thinking and reacting independently,” Jaquil said. “She’s saying what she knows she’s supposed to say.”

  “Bring the prototype here,” called the voice again. “Or we’ll come and get it.” The silhouettes changed shape as weapons shifted in hands.

  “Is that right?” Banty asked Phoemian. “Are you saying what your producer would want you to say?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Holy shit,” said Banty. “What have we got ourselves into?”

  “We’re coming over,” the voice called. There was the sound of murmuring, and a handful of the dark figures began to advance.

  “I’m not giving her up,” Jaquil said. He put the forklift into reverse. “Go back to the ship,” he said to Banty before closing the cab windows.

  “What are you doing?” Phoemian asked.

  “I’m taking you back. I’m not handing you over so you can be broken into spare parts.”

  “But I want to go to them.” Phoemian reached out to open the cab door. Just in time, Jaquil shut the central locking system.

  “No, you don’t,” said Jaquil. “That’s your suppressor talking.”

  “Hey,” shouted a distant voice.

  “Take me to them,” said Phoemian. She grabbed the control stick and tried to wrestle it from Jaquil’s grasp.

  A bolt of laser fire passed over the forklift. Jaquil guessed they could easily have hit the cab but they didn’t want to risk damaging their valuable product. The dark figures were running now and the distance between them and Jaquil and Phoemian was closing fast.

  He pushed the forklift to the limit of its speed, which was a slow jogging pace. This time, he couldn’t leap out and run as he had before. The minute he opened the cab door, Phoemian would be off and heading toward the people who were going to pull her apart.

  Keeping her with him in the cab brought its own challenges, however. He found that she was surprisingly strong and agile as she fought him for control of the vehicle.

  The first of the running figures reached them. A head in a visored helmet appeared at the cab window, and a fist hammered on the door. Phoemian switched her efforts from trying to drive the forklift to attempting to gain control of the central locking mechanism.

  “Phoemian,” gasped Jaquil as he struggled with her and maintained the forklift on its backward trajectory. “Where’s your suppressor located?”

  A clunk sounded outside. The figure’s helmet had been struck violently with a trash shovel. He crashed to the floor. U8AB stood over him, and next to the android was Banty, holding a flame-thrower. A long spurt of fire shot out.

  “It’s at the back of my neck, at my hairline,” Phoemian said, fighting him like a wildcat. She pressed the door control. The locks clicked open. Jaquil pushed her away and pressed the switch again. The locks clicked closed.

  “Hurry, Jaquil,” shouted Banty from somewhere behind him. “We’re nearly at the ship.”

  Banty and U8AB were running backward, Banty spurting fire from the flamethrower. Luckily for them, the dark figures seemed not to care about them now that they were no longer near their precious product. It was he and Phoemian who were receiving all the attention.

  Another figure appeared at the window. Phoemian redoubled her efforts to open the door. Letting go of the controls for a moment, Jaquil grabbed her in a headlock. Gripping her tightly with one arm, he searched the back of her neck with the fingers of his other hand. All he could feel was a tiny nubbin like a small raised mole. He pressed it.

  Phoemian went slack in his arms.

  The window of the cab shattered. Splinters of plexiglass flew everywhere. This assailant’s face was also hidden behind a dark visor. A black-gloved hand reached in and grabbed Phoemian’s hair. She yelped as she was dragged toward the window. Jaquil pulled her back, but she was slipping from his grasp.

  Something dark and blob-like flew past Jaquil’s head and landed on the figure’s visor. It was Fred. She had completely blocked their attacker’s vision. The figure let go of Phoemian and tried to peel off Fred.

  “Let’s get out of here,” shouted Phoemian. She grabbed the shovel that was on the floor of the cab and whacked their assailant on the top of the head. As he fell, she grasped the edge of Fred and peeled her off the visor. Phoemian tossed Fred into the cab and picked up the flamethrower. She glanced behind her.

  “Step on it,” she yelled. “Lollololp’s closing the hold.”

  She let fly with the flamethrower, spraying an arc of fire at their attackers. Jaquil glanced anxiously back and then forward at the encroaching ring of figures. The forklift was at maximum power, but it would never make it back to the ship in time. The hold door was rising at a frightening speed. It was already way too high for the forklift to drive onto it. Soon, it would be too high for them to leap onto.

  “It’s no good,” he said. “We have to run for it. Bring the flamethrower.” Remembering the grappling hook, he grabbed it from the floor.

  “Ready?” he asked Phoemian. Her arm was hanging out of the shattered window, the flamethrower in it. Several of their attackers were on fire and rolling frantically on the ground to put out the flames. The rest were keeping a safe distance. She nodded. Fred had attached herself to Phoemian’s back.

  “Go around the back of the forklift,” Jaquil said. “It’ll shield us a little.”

  “Got it,” said Phoemian, a glint in her eye. She seemed to be enjoying herself, despite their extreme danger. Jaquil knew how she felt.

  “Go,” he yelled.

  They sprang out of the forklift. In three steps, Jaquil was behind the vehicle and so was Phoemian. Tho
ugh he couldn’t see them, Jaquil knew their attackers had to be running forward. Phoemian ducked out and sent out a jet of fire from the flamethrower. But it was short-lived. The flame died. The machine was out of fuel.

  They had only a few seconds to get aboard the ship. But the lip of the hold door was out of reach.

  Jaquil shook out a length of rope with the grappling hook at its end. He swung it round once, twice, then flung it upward. The hook caught!

  “Climb onto me,” he shouted to Phoemian. She leapt onto his back and held on like a monkey, Jaquil began to haul himself up the rope. Phoemian was surprisingly light for a full-grown woman. Probably something to do with what she was made of, Jaquil guessed.

  He only had to climb a short distance, but it seemed like miles. Hand over hand he went, conscious that it was Phoemian their foes would hit first if they fired. Their attackers seemed reluctant to shoot and damage their valuable product, but then, just as Jaquil was pulling onto and over the edge of the hold door, Phoemian let out a cry.

  She’d been hit.

  Together, they rolled down the other side of the door onto the floor of the hold. Banty and U8AB were waiting for them. Jaquil and Phoemian pulled apart and stood up, Jaquil panting with the exertion of his climb. A terrible smell of burning was coming from Phoemian, but she didn’t seem in pain from her wound. She reached behind her.

  Fred fell from her back and hit the floor with a squelch. A hole had been burned through her middle.

  “Fred,” exclaimed Jaquil, running over to the downed slime mold. “Fred, are you okay?”

  Soft plups and hisses came from Fred. It only hurts a little.

  “But Fred,” Jaquil said, distraught. How could she survive a wound like that? She’d sacrificed her life to save them. He wiped his eyes. “Fred, I don’t know how to thank you. If it weren’t for you—”

  Don’t worry. I’m going to a better place.

  Jaquil couldn’t bear it. “Do you have any relatives we should contact? Any last requests?”

  I wouldn’t say no to some refried beans.

  “What?”

  “Cut it out, Fred,” Banty said. “You’re upsetting the kid.”