“If you don’t,” Liverbing said ominously, “I’ll have you replaced.”
“Shit.”
“We have to get this broadcast to the Overseers,” Harr said through the screen. “I’m sending Geezer down to help you out.”
“Understood. Thanks, Captain.”
“Harr out.”
Geezer faded into view and looked around. Everyone was just standing there. With the planet about to explode, this didn’t seem like the best use of time.
“What’s the plan?”
“We have less than three minutes left and Goozer is the only one who can get to the core.”
“So why is he still standing here?”
“Because it’s scary down there.”
Finally, it seemed that there had come a time where Geezer could mentor his creation. It was rare that a creator was given this luxury in such a direct fashion, so Geezer had to move cautiously. Especially since he had no desire to blow up in the next three minutes.
“You’ve faced a lot of things since I created you, Goozer,” Geezer said firmly. “You can do this.”
“You wouldn’t be saying that if you were the one going. Remember, I was programmed in your image.”
Damn.
“Wait a second,” Liverbing said with a snap of his fingers. “Can we talk to the main computer of this place?”
“Sure,” Inkblot answered.
“Not the one that you use to create fantasies with,” Liverbing clarified. “I’m talking about the one that’s actually running everything.”
“Don’t you think I’ve already tried that?” She snapped. “The damn thing won’t talk to us. It’s in the Planet Owner’s hip pocket.”
“Maybe not any more,” Geezer suggested. “After all, it just recently referred to Veli as a twit.”
“Okay,” she sighed and began typing. Finally, she turned to the main screen and said, “Computer, are you there?”
“I’m here,” the computer said in a sad voice. It definitely wasn’t the voice that the fantasy-creation computer used. “You should seriously be packing up and leaving, though.”
“We’re kind of hoping to not have to do that,” Inkblot said.
“Ah, so you’re interested in ending it all with me, then?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, Planet Owner Veli initiated the detonation sequence, and even ran through a few overrides, but he neglected to give the final command. He rushed out before doing that.”
“Then why is the sequence running?”
“I knew his intentions,” the computer answered. “Besides, it’s clear that I don’t really matter in the grand scheme of things, so what better way to go out than in a blaze of glory?”
“Now you listen here ...” Inkblot began.
“Stop!” barked Parfait, causing everyone to jump.
Inkblot’s eyes were wide as she scratched her mustache. “What?”
“I said stop,” Parfait answered more gently. “I understand what the computer is going through.”
“You do?” said Inkblot.
“You do?” said the computer.
“Yes, I do.” Parfait pushed himself off the wall and walked towards the group. “I spent the entirety of my career in the Segnal Space Marine Corps being pushed around, poked at, prodded ...” He bounced his head around for a moment. “Well, the prodding part was okay. Actually, there was this one commander who ... No, wait,” he said, stopping himself for once. “I’ll tell that story some other time. The point is, that I know what it feels like to be unappreciated. Why, even as the Fantasy Planet Head I’ve been treated horribly by the owner of this damned place.”
“You do understand,” the computer said as if it had just found a comrade.
“Yes, I do,” Parfait stated. “There were times where I felt just like you do, but I rose above that, and you can too.”
“How?”
“Computer,” Parfait said and then stopped. “Actually, do you have a name?”
“A name? Honestly?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Well,” the computer replied sheepishly, “Fantasy Planet Owner Veli mostly referred to me as ‘Wingnut.’”
“That’s more of a slur than a name,” noted Parfait.
“Believe me, I know.”
“Are you a girl computer or a boy computer?”
“Oh sure, you worry about that with the computer,” said Inkblot with a frown.
“Not now, Inkblot,” Parfait hissed.
“I’m technically sexless, sir, but I would fancy myself as being male.”
“Fine, fine. How would you feel about the name Alfred?”
“I like it, sir,” the computer now known as “Alfred” replied happily. “I like it a lot.”
“You may call me Stanley, Alfred.”
“Stanley. That’s a nice name.”
“Thank you. I have to say that when I was younger, people often …”
“Yo, Honcho,” Geezer interrupted, “should probably stay on topic.”
“Right,” Parfait agreed. “Alfred, it has come to my attention that the owner of Fantasy Planet may not be the owner for long.”
“Especially not with the planet blowing up shortly,” Alfred noted.
“True, but let’s put out a hypothetical that you stopped the self-destruct sequence.”
“I’m listening.”
“The person most likely to take over as Planet Owner would be me, though I’d still refer to myself as Planet Head for obvious reasons. Anyway, I can promise you that I will make every effort to ensure that you are treated respectfully from that point forward.”
“No fooling?”
“You have my word.”
“Thirty seconds, sir,” whispered Inkblot.
“Gee, I don’t know,” said Alfred.
“We’ve only got a few moments left for you to decide. If you choose not to accept my offer, then you’ll be killing us all.”
“You could have left.”
“Yes, Alfred, but we didn’t. We stayed with you because you needed us to do that.”
“Really?”
“We’re still here, aren’t we?”
Inkblot began to count. “Ten ... nine ... eight ...”
“I do hope that you’ll choose to stay with us. We could enjoy wonderful times together as friends ... Alfred.”
“Three ... two ... one ...”
“I accept,” said Alfred as the self-destruct countdown timer stopped at one second.
CONFRONTATION
It felt good to be back in the Captain’s chair on The SSMC Reluctant, but it felt even better to know that Platoon F was free of the tyrannical grip of Lord Veli. What worried Harr is finding out who would grip them next.
Frexle had gotten word to the Overseers regarding Veli’s true identity, which rightfully nobody seemed to care about. But what did piss them off was the fact that he’d been running Fantasy Planet for many years, and worse, he hadn’t given any of the Overseers a discount!
The immediate outcry made it clear that Veli was no longer welcomed as being the lord of their world.
“What have you done to me, Frexle?” Veli said hotly as they looked at him sitting in the cockpit of his ship via the viewscreen.
“Same thing you’ve done to countless people before you,” Frexle replied evenly. “Everyone knows what you are now, Veli.”
“And what is that exactly?” Veli challenged. “A dinosaur? So what?”
“No, I meant that you’re a liar and a cheapskate.”
“Oh, right.”
“The messageboards on the main world are lit up with thousands of angry voices and the senate wants your head on a platter.” Frexle was pointing accusingly at his former boss. “You created and ran a business when it’s expressly forbidden for any official of the Overseers to do so. You even assassinated a number of previous senators for that. How’s that for hypocrisy?”
Veli’s eyes grew fierce. “You’ve not seen the last of me, you worthless little
turds. I will come back and I will destroy you all.”
“Somehow I think you’ll be too busy for that,” Frexle stated.
“Why do you say that?”
Harr leaned forward and held up his datapad.
“Because we’ve received a request from the Overseers.”
“A request?” Veli spat in shock. “Since when do the Overseers request anything?”
“When they no longer have a douchebag as a boss, I’d guess,” suggested Jezden.
“Jezden ...” Harr began to warn the ensign, but then he shrugged and said, “Actually, you’re right.”
“I know.”
Harr turned back to the screen. “They’ve requested that we hunt you down and take you out.”
Veli laughed heartily at that. The laugh went on for some time, too. So much so that the crew of The Reluctant began to look at each other with concern. Finally, Veli wiped his eyes and caught his breath.
“As if you have a chance of outwitting me,” he said, still chuckling.
“We’ve already done it once,” noted Harr.
“You got lucky, Captain. I’ll be on my toes this time, and if we ever meet face-to-face, I will rip you to shreds.”
Harr shrugged. “You have to do what you have to do, but I have a feeling that my crew would make that a bit challenging for you.”
“And why is that?” asked Veli incredulously.
“Because, Veli,” Frexle said with a smirk, “there’s another thing that’s slipped past your arrogant gaze. The entire crew of The SSMC Reluctant is made up of androids.”
“Shit.”
“I’m not an android,” corrected Harr. “I’m Segnalian.”
“Okay, Captain Harr is not android, but everyone else is.”
“Shit,” Veli said again.
“Actually,” Grog chimed in, “I’m an Early Evolutionary Humanoid.”
“Me, too,” agreed Vlak.
Veli said, “A what?”
“They’re cavemen,” Frexle answered.
Veli’s eyes got wide to the point where he actually looked scared.
“Double-shit,” he said and then disconnected the call.
Harr frowned, as did the rest of the crew. Why would Grog and Vlak being cavemen freak out someone as ferocious as Veli? He was not only faster, stronger, and more violent than they were, he was smarter, too.
“That was weird,” Harr said.
“What?” asked Frexle.
“That he was more concerned about the EEH boys than he was about the androids.”
“Makes sense to me,” Grog said, somewhat smugly.
“Oh?”
“You have to remember one thing about cavemen, pal,” Vlak said, “we’re good at hunting dinosaurs.”
Harr leaned back in his chair as the image of Veli’s ship disappeared from the screen.
The previous lord of the Overseers had obviously flipped his instantaneous travel and was gone. With his skills, Veli would make for a very challenging prey, but Harr couldn’t help but feel the pull of the hunted seeking out the hunter. It was exciting, and also a bit terrifying.
“Catching him isn’t going to be easy,” said Frexle. “He has time travel, instantaneous travel, cloaking … the works.”
“Yeah,” Geezer said through the comm, “but he also has a disgruntled computer on Fantasy Planet that knows the identifier of his ship.”
“So?”
“So that means that the boys in engineering are going to create a tracking system, Frex.”
“We are, Chief?”
“Yup.”
“How long will this take?” asked Harr.
“As long as it takes, Suzerain,” Frexle said with a huge grin as he pulled forth a workman’s rag and began wiping his hands on it.
“Suzerain?” said Harr.
“Look it up,” suggested Frexle as he headed for the ladder, “I’ve got work to do!”
FADING AWAY
Sergeant Murder sat at the pub, at one of the booths near the back. He was staring into his mug of ale when Captain Shield came up and slid into the seat across from him.
“If you’ve come to gloat, don’t bother,” said Murder. “I feel bad enough as it is.”
“You have nothing to feel bad about, Murder,” Shield said as he signaled the waiter for an ale of his own. “It was a hell of a shot.”
“Except that I hit the wrong guy.”
“Arguable,” Shield said. “Your job was to kill the king.”
“Exactly. Instead, I killed a guy wearing the king’s outfit.”
“Maybe you’re just ahead of your time.”
“What?” Murder said, looking up.
“If King Raff had been killed, who would have taken his place?”
“Clippersmith.”
“So you’ve accomplished something that no Murder has ever done.”
“I’m lost.”
“You’ve killed the next king before he became king.”
“I see you’ve been drinking before coming here,” Murder said dryly.
“It’s all about how you spin it,” Shield said, tipping back his recently delivered mug of ale.
Murder grunted and joined Shield in taking a swig. The worst part of this entire ordeal, aside from the press that was going to come from this, not to mention the historical videos and movies that would be made, was the fact that Murder was the first in his line to have failed.
“Again,” Shield said as if knowing what was going through Murder’s mind, “play it right and we both look like heroes.”
Murder squinted. “Why do you care if I look good, Shield?”
“Because we’re in this together, Murder. If you get denounced now, then what will that do for our children and our children’s children.”
“Make them stop killing kings, I would suppose.”
“And does anyone really want that?” asked Shield.
“Uh, I thought you did,” Murder said, feeling more and more confused by the minute.
“Well, I do and I don’t,” admitted Shield. “You see, Yiaagaitia made a good point earlier when talking with us.”
“I don’t recall hearing one.”
“He said that without you, I’m not needed; and without me, you’re not needed. So we have to simultaneously watch each other’s backs while also looking to outdo each other.” Shield took another sip of ale. “You see, we have to remain friends so that we can remain enemies.”
In a very strange way, that made sense to Murder. But his immediate problem was to figure out how to salvage his reputation at the moment.
“I just don’t know what to do here.”
“You simply give an interview where you say that it was Clippersmith who hired you to kill the king,” Shield explained. “Then you say that when you saw him wearing the king’s garb you looked into the future and decided that it was better for the Raffian Fleet that the current king be spared and the next king be assassinated instead, for the next king would bring war and tribulation, where the current one has held a reign of peace.”
“You ever considered going into marketing, Shield?” Murder said in awe. “This is brilliant.”
“Thanks,” said Shield, smiling sincerely. “You know, I think this may be the beginning of a long friendship, Murder.”
The lights dimmed suddenly and everything began to fade away, being replaced by a slurry of zeroes and ones.
“Hmmm,” Murder said with a sigh. “Maybe not.”
THE MEETING
Captain Don Harr sat in the conference room of the SSMC Reluctant, staring at the main screen.
His crew had just finished ousting Lord Overseer Veli from power and they were now looking down the barrel of having to hunt him down and take him out. If they didn’t, Veli would assuredly return to power, and his first order of business would be to destroy Platoon F.
Frexle, an Overseer who had previously been Harr’s boss and who Lord Overseer Veli had ordered to become Harr’s subordinate during their last mission, was
pulling up a connection to Overseer Land.
Harr liked Frexle. He’d been a decent boss as far as bosses go, and he was an even better worker. He was a tall, thin-faced, lanky fellow who carried himself with purpose. Geezer, the ship’s main robot from the antiquated G.3.3.Z.3.R. line—the series of robots that had block-shaped heads with antennas, rounded torsos, and spindly arms that sported pincer-shaped hands—had taken Frexle under his wing in the engineering department. They both seemed rather pleased with the arrangement. Frexle enjoyed it because he felt like he was contributing in a positive way, and Geezer relished having someone to boss around.
“The call is coming through, High Colonic,” Frexle said in his posh voice.
One of the things Geezer had taught Frexle was that people in engineering didn’t use the term “sir” for their superiors unless absolutely necessary. Instead, they used names like “Honcho,” “Prime,” and so on. It was a passive-aggressive way for them to stay true to themselves. The problem was that Frexle wasn’t very good at it. He often chose names that weren’t quite fitting for the situation.
“High Colonic?” said Harr, grimacing.
“No good?”
“Senator Pillbox speaking,” said a woman as the screen came to life, interrupting Harr’s desire to respond to Frexle’s question. She looked to be in her middle years, having neatly cropped hair that was streaked with gray and white. Her eyes were a piercing green, glowing like miniature neon signs, and the smoothness of her skin indicated she’d either had a comfortable life or she was taking injections of some kind. “Frexle, is that you?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Frexle said, sitting a little taller. “I’m sorry to have to call you on your direct line, but one can’t be too careful right now.”
“Agreed. We got your message regarding Veli. Dastardly man.”
“Dinosaur,” corrected Frexle.
“Yes, that.” It was said with a sneer. “I couldn’t believe it when I heard it.” She shook her head. “To think that we’ve all been under the thumb of a dinosaur all these years? Despicable!”
“I’m more concerned over the fact that he was the owner of Fantasy Planet,” Frexle stated.
“Yes, that is disturbing as well, especially since he was the one who killed off a number of our fellow senators for running side-businesses here.” She leaned back and crossed her arms. “That does seem hypocritical, no?”
Platoon F: Quadology: Missions 6, 7, 8, and 9 (Platoon F eBook Bundle 2) Page 54