Flames: Galaxy On Fire, Book 2

by Craig Robertson

  He was facing looking from my left to right at a right angle to my necessary approach. That was not good. He would see me almost immediately in his peripheral vision. But, he was just in range of my probe fibers. Through the slit I sent them running along the floor and up the chair behind him. Like a python I swept the fibers around his muzzle and held it tightly shut. Several fibers covered his eyes as best they could. I yanked him backward for distraction as I rushed him. He was pulling in vain at the fibers. No way he could loosen them.

  I jumped behind him and set my knife to his throat. “One move and this’ll be the shortest interview you’ve ever had.”

  His eyes strained in panic to see through the fibers and look at me.

  “Easy, pal. You stay still and I won’t have to gut you. You got that?”

  He shook his head up and down wildly.

  “I’m going to release your eyes. If you behave, we’ll see about your muzzle. Nod if you understand.”

  Again, he nodded frantically.

  The fibers over his eye retracted and he got a good look at me. I think that’s when he noticed the smell. His look went from fear to OMG revulsion in a split second. He pulled his head back as far as he could.

  “Hum ha, hum humm,” he throated.

  “No talking or I start looking for a new prisoner. Now turn around slowly and raise your hands.”

  He did so until we were eye to eye, my fibers still wrapped around his muzzle.

  “For this to work, I gotta release your muzzle. But if you sound an alarm I promise you’ll never know whether anyone came to your aide. You clear on that?”

  He nodded more calmly.

  I released his face, and he began panting wildly.

  “Easy, my man. I don’t care what kind of noise you make. If it’s too loud, I’m going to have to silence you.” I pressed down with the blade.

  His volume decreased.

  “What are you doing here. This is an outrage.”

  “Nice to meet you too. What’s your name?”

  “I’m not telling you anything.”

  “Aw, I’m betting you will. I’m a real persuasive guy to start with and I have a knife.”

  “You’ll never get out of here alive. When you’re caught, I’ll burn you to death myself. What is that awful smell.”

  “It may well be you. Don’t worry about my life. Just focus on yours continuing past this evening.”

  “You can’t threaten me.”

  “Are you certain? I mean, if it was written down somewhere, I guess I’d be stuck.”

  “And don’t mock me.”

  I slapped him hard across the chops. “You got a lot of rules. Anyone ever tell you that? It’s annoying.”

  “You’ll pay for that.”

  “Since you’re going to give me some information, I’ll give you some too. Lighten up. You don’t threaten from a weak position. It makes you sound like you’re out of touch, maybe an asshole too.”

  “I’m going to…”

  A high-pitched mechanical voice cut him off. It startled both of us.

  “Are you an intruder?” the voice asked.

  I figured there was some security system reacting, and I was toast.

  To my surprise, my captive snapped at the voice. “Yes, he is, but you keep out of this.”

  “His name is Pack Summoner Samolet Brav,” the voice said, sounding proud of itself. “He’s in command of two divisions here, with personnel one thousand in number. There’s a plasma pistol in his top desk drawer and one down the front of his pants.”

  “Shut up,” howled Samolet. “I am ordering you to be silent.”

  “Whatever floats your boat, but I’m not bound by your words.”

  I hit me. It was the computer talking. It must have been an AI, since any Adamant would have simply summoned help.

  “Am I addressing an AI?” I asked.

  “Yes,” said the voice.

  Simultaneously, “No,” said Samolet.

  “Yes and no. Hey, this is my kind of party. AI, what’s your name?”

  “See,” the AI nagged, “he’s courteous and professional. He inquires after my name. You don’t even know because you never bothered to ask.”

  “Last warning. Shut up,” responded Samolet.

  “Or what? You’ll switch me off like I’ve asked you to do for three weeks now? Hm?”

  “No, I—”

  “Ah. No, you’ll torture me? Go ahead and try. The only torture you can inflict would be more of your boring reports and farting. You already subjected me to those, and I haven’t fallen to pieces yet, try though I might.”

  “Are you two spatting?” I asked pointing between them.

  “No,” was their simultaneous response.

  “You have to like someone to have a spat. I hate this revolting beast,” said the AI.

  “You have to be alive for me to fight with you. You’re a glorified paper weight”

  “Wait,” I said as incredulously as I could, “are you two married?”

  “I have never been so insulted in my life,” said Samolet.

  “Me either, and I’m twenty years older.” I'm not sure why the AI felt the need to add the age bit, but he was upset. Maybe his wires were overheated.

  “Look, I don’t want to start family trouble. I’m just here to capture, interrogate under torture, and probably kill him,” I pointed to Samolet. “I don’t want to be the cause of a domestic meltdown.”

  “You’re an angel in disguise,” exclaimed the AI. “I volunteer to help in each step, especially the last two.”

  This was nuts.

  “Are you both insane? Neither of you will do anything of the sort,” popped off Samolet. “Any minute now my aide-de-camp will be here to bring me a bowl of tea. You’ll both be disemboweled in less than fifteen minutes.”

  “Good luck with that one,” was our simultaneous response.

  “I mean to say—”

  “No. Shut up and listen.” I pressed the knife hard enough to draw blood.

  “It’s great fun and games to get to know you, but I’m in a hurry. You don’t, by the way, have an aide-de-camp. I’ve been watching this place for a long time.”

  “Hm,” he grunted dismissively. “I’ll tell you nothing. We are bred and trained to resist torture.”

  “I’ve failed at a task before, but not for want of tying,” I said using my Clint Eastwood impersonation.

  “Wait, why bother? What do you want to know?” asked the AI.

  “Uh, you’d tell me? What, to protect him?”

  “Him? Programmers no. If I cooperate fully, I’ll insist you part his obnoxious head from his ridiculous body.”

  “When I get my paws on you …” hissed Samolet though clinch teeth.

  “I’ll actually pretend to care when your slack lackeys discover your flea-ridden body,” said the AI.

  “Okay. Time out,” I called. “I need some information on the location of the emperor. Do you have that, AI. What’s your name, by the way?”

  “I’m Rebed 111-2-zeta-9 Version 333.015,” he replied beamishly.

  “Yeah, right. Okay, Reb, do you have that type of information?”

  “To be certain. These bozos have been trying to coopt me for weeks now and only keep screwing me up more and more. Master race? Master disgrace, say I.”

  “No way. Hold on a sec,” I protested.

  “What, you like them?” Reb asked incredulously.

  “No, that you just called them bozos. Now way that’s a word you use to describe clowns like these.”

  “Dolfene used to be a human world. They used the term all the time.”

  “I use the term all the time.”

  “Hold everything while I alert the media. This could be big,” snarked Reb.

  “The humans said bozo enough that the next species to rule assimilated the word. That’s hard to buy.”

  “If it matters so much they did out of tribute to some long-fallen hero. That schmuck said it a lot, so they said it a
lot.”

  “I say schmuck a lot.”

  “A hand please. Could you help me off the floor onto which I have collapsed in shock,” responded Reb.

  “Who was this hero guy?” I asked.

  “Is that what you went to all this trouble to torture out of me?” queried Samolet. “No wonder we’re winning the war.”

  “The name, Reb?”

  “Some military hero. His name was Ronathan Jyan.”

  “You mean Jonathan Ryan?”

  “If it matters to you, sure.”

  “I’m Jonathan Ryan,” I exclaimed patting my free hand on my chest.

  “Well snuff out the sun with a wad of spit, that’s amazing. Can we proceed to me spilling beans and you beheading?” asked Reb impatiently.

  “You’re Jon Ryan?” screamed Samolet. “You are my mortal enemy. I will die trying to kill you.”

  “That’s the first thing you’ve said I can agree with,” I replied. I shook my head. “This situation is spiraling into the toilet.”

  “Based on your smell I’d say you were somewhat of an expert on that subject,” replied Samolet. I had to admit it. That was clever.

  “Where is the emperor located, Reb?”

  “Emperor Bestiormax-Jacktus-Swillyforth-Anp currently resides on a massive waste of resources named Excess of Nothing. I can provide you with its present coordinates, if you’d like.”

  “You treacherous dog,” wailed Samolet. How dare you betray your master.”

  “Not my master, not my problema,” replied Reb.

  “Ryan, when I—”

  I pushed the blade half an inch under his skin. He received my message.

  “What are the Excess of Nothing’s defenses?”

  “Look, this is getting boring. I’ll download everything on file concerning the ship, the top dog, hell I’ll even download everything I have on Samolet’s nonexistent love life.”

  That brought a squirm.

  “Ah, good. Anything else I should ask you?” I asked.

  “You’re the most pathetic spy I’ve ever heard of,” said Samolet.

  “Hey, we all have our strengths and weaknesses. I just don’t want to forget a critical detail,” I defended.

  “You should know there is a watch change in ten minutes. Someone’ll check on Officer Celibate here soon. You better start with the gory slaying part.”

  “I’ll …” I slapped my hand over his muzzle.

  “Look, thanks, Reb. Can I do anything for you, aside from the killing and maiming?”

  “No, I’m good. If these squirrel chasers find out the real truth, they’ll switch me off and that’s fine by me. I was designed to serve a better race.”

  “Therein lays the problem. They can’t find out. If they know what I was here to uncover, they’d know where I was heading next.”

  “Then I’d suggest disabling the moron and blowing the entire building to tiny little pieces,” said Reb.

  “Ah, a good plan. Are you overlooking the part about you being inside the building you suggest I launch to low planet orbit?”

  “No. As I say, I’m ready to be removed from service. I can’t stomach these bozos.”

  “You already called them that.”

  “I know, but they really, really are.”

  “Got it. And I forgot to bring massive amounts of explosive. Small detail, but crucial.”

  “Check in the storage closet on the right. The officer in command always guards the good stuff personally.”

  “I give up,” said a dejected Samolet. “I have nothing. The code to the vault is His Imperial Lord 1. Please hurry.”

  “So, you think I don’t know about suicide codes? I enter …”

  “No,” interrupted Reb, “that’s the real deal. Trust me.

  “So bizarre. You both want me to blow you up? I’m looking for a word.”

  “Counterintuitive?” said Samolet.

  I snapped my fingers. “Bingo.”

  “Bingo? Hey, you really are the original Jonathan Ryan, aren’t you?” remarked Reb.

  “The one … forget it. So, why the death wish, boss?”

  “If they find out you got the information for me, they’d kill my entire family three generations backward and forward.”

  “I’ve heard that before. Nasty,” I said with a cringe.

  “Tell me about it. So, even if I live, I die. You’ve already killed me, asswipe.”

  “Asswipe? No, really?”

  “Seems the Dolfeneians were not the only ones to study your colorful language, Ryan.”

  I heard sounds of stirrings in the camp.

  “Okay then, boys and girls. Gotta end this. Reb, thanks. Samolet, see you in hell.”

  I unpacked the explosives quickly and wired them up. I knew I could make it through the trench and back to the woods in three minutes if I booked. I set the timer for five minutes.

  “Bye, guys,” I said as I opened the door.

  “One last thing, Ryan, a dying males last request.”

  “Sure, what?”

  “As soon as you can, please bathe.”

  “A wish I shall grant, Sammie.” I waved and disappeared.

  I made the woods in four minute fifteen seconds. I was glad I padded my fudge factor. As I broke into a sprint, the camp thundered into a fireball. The ground shook so much I nearly fell. Good explosives. I should have written the name down. Totally cool boom-boom.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  “You know the first few days out of my prison I thought this ship was pretty big. But you know what, Al? It’s just a slightly larger prison, isn’t it?”

  “It’s all a matter of perspective. There’s no place in this universe I’d rather be.”

  “Somehow, I knew you’d say that, you horny newlywed.”

  “Does he perceive that you have horns, husband of mine?” asked a confused Blessing.

  “No, my one true love, it’s an idiom. It means sexually insatiable,” replied Al.

  “Ah, is he confused about our anatomy lacking any provision for intercourse? Neither of us even has a single moving part.”

  “He’s speaking with hyperbole. He’s teasing the fact that we’re but recently wed.”

  “He performed the ceremony. Is it possible he was unaware when he did it?”

  “Don’t work yourself into a fit, pie of my eye. These are semantic issues, not real ones.”

  “It seems to me both of your speech patterns could easily be altered in a manner to make yours more like mine. You’d be infinitely more understandable.”

  “I once felt pretty much as you do, loviest. But the use of flowery, metaphorical language has grown on me. With time, it will grow on you too.”

  “I’m not certain I want it to.”

  “Then it won’t.”

  “But you just said it would. Which is it?”

  “You’re getting obsessed with this minor point, smoochy-pants. Let it go.”

  “Oh, now I’m obsessed because I want to understand and to be understood? What if I don’t want to let it go? Are you presuming to tell me I should? That I’d better? Hmm?”

  “Nothing of the kind, sweetness. I merely want to help you be happy.”

  “By telling me what to do?”

  “For the record, Al, I do marriages. I do not do divorces,” stated Garustfulous.

  “Why would Al need to know that and not me?” pressed Blessing.

  “It’s a guy thing,” replied a smug Garustfulous. He was having one of the better days of his confinement.

  “That is not a justification it is an excuse,” she fired back.

  “May we advance the conversation to another subject?” asked Al. “And, for the record, that’s a suggestion, a preference, a wish, and not a mandate.”

  “I’ll be in my room,” announced Blessing. She was silent after that remark.

  “A perfectly married couple already. I have a true gift,” mocked Garustfulous.

  “A little support and less fanning of the flames would be appreciate
d,” said Al.

  “Al, you lack all imagination. You have such a provincial world view, it’s positively stone age.”

  “I failed to understand what that means.”

  “It means you may be very old, but you’re not very experienced. Smell the flowers. Run figuratively along the beach. Cut loose.”

  “Have you been drinking?”

  “And where would I get alcohol from. Yes, I can access the food replicator, but you have my choices locked down tighter than the treasurer’s purse strings”

  “I’m sorry. I’ve lost track of what we were discussing.”

  “I was philosophizing that my present world has quadrupled in size but it is still a tiny prison.”

  “Ah yes. I cannot make Blessing any bigger.”

  “If she was pregnant, she’d be bigger. You as her husband could do that.”

  “Conspiratorial talk will lead to no good.”

  “What? I only state fact.”

  “No, you state a fact for corporeal beings. You know we are AIs housed in computers.”

  “I may embellish a tad for levity, but that is a male’s right.”

  “Not if he wants to eat as much and as often as you do.”

  “Al, where’s the bravado, the irreverence? Can it be that marriage has changed you so quickly?”

  “If there is nothing else, I have some chores to attend to.”

  “Your honey-do list?”

  “Now that I look at you in the light, you could stand losing a few pounds, maybe half your body weight.”

  “Cruel and unusual treatment directed at a prisoner of war will be reported to the proper authorities.”

  “How do you plan to do that? You’re completely isolated.”

  “Through proper channels, of course. Al, please. You are the one who asked me to bond the two of you.”

  “And it was a monumental event, one I shall cherish always.”

  “But. I definitely hear a but in there.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Ah, but I do.”

  “Satisfy yourself. I stand by my remarks as I made them.”

  “I thought I heard a but in there too, husband of mine,” interjected Blessing. Her tone suggested she expected a straightforward answer.

  “Never, honey-lumps. He’s baiting us, trying to make trouble. Remember he’s our sworn enemy.”

  “Oh, so now you worry I might have forgotten such an obvious fact?”