Destroyer of Planets: Book 1 of the Neon Octopus Overlord Series

by L. A. Johnson

"Yes?" Floyd asked.

  "I thought I heard screaming," the white-faced janitor stammered, looking around the office.

  "Oh no," Floyd laughed, "that was just me. I'm afraid I got a look at last month's profit margin. Grim numbers, those. I apologize, I didn't know anyone else was within earshot."

  "Aaaahhh," Floyd said in a mock scream, flailing his arms a little and vamping up the moment. "You get it, am I right?"

  The janitor backed out of the room and closed the door.

  In the silence that followed, Floyd took a deep, cleansing breath. He glanced at his computer, and saw that there were new Celestial reports.

  Yes, things were working out nicely. Why find and train your own evil army when there's a sucker Octopus with one of her own just waiting to be hijacked. Celestial was a fantastic find.

  The former Celestial Brainwashing Coordinator, Jake, was all too easy to dispose of. Then Floyd simply stole and embellished Jake's resume and got the job.

  Floyd rubbed his hands together. Where he’s from, there was an art to conquering galaxies. There were style points awarded for doing as little actual work as possible, and everything was going according to plan. He leaned back in his chair with satisfaction.

  Then he saw a notification from the Neon Octopus Overlord. He scanned it. It was a deletion notice. There would be two more Celestial missions. Then the whole program would be terminated along with the Celestials themselves. He re-read it. Why in stars would the stupid octopus do that? What was she thinking?

  Maybe it was a mistake. How dare she kill the secret army he was so close to stealing? Floyd stared at the floor. He still had to clean up the blood and the mess, but he’d just finished eating and was tired. Housework would have to wait. And now, on top of everything else, he had to confront the octopus too. His to-do list was filling up fast, which was bad. Floyd prided himself on getting everybody else to do his dirty work.

  Oh well. It's all temporary. The minute I take control, I won’t do anything at all. Ever.

  Chapter 10

  As Kirian approached, the reptilian was sitting in the same spot, with a new magazine about architecture. The box of wriggling food was gone.

  "Hello. Kirian again. I think the two of us may have gotten off on the wrong foot. Oh look, architecture.” Kirian forced a smile and pointed at the magazine. “I also find that subject fascinating."

  Cold black eyes looked up and followed her around. Kirian realized she was pacing.

  "As you can see," Kirian pressed on, "I have a brand-new ID badge. Told you. A small oversight from a new hire."

  It bothered Kirian that the reptilian hadn't said anything, but she convinced herself she was being paranoid. "I'm just going to head back there and get to work." She waved a piece of paper around. "I have a list of files to grab, and then I'll be out of your, uh, hair." She chuckled at that last part.

  Reptilians don't have hair.

  Kirian waited in silence for a sign that it was going to let her pass without attempting to eat her. Moving forward tentatively, she orbited around it, heading toward the records area. She clutched the flashlight in her jacket pocket just in case.

  Whew.

  Once inside, records storage was as expected. It was huge, spread out over several loosely connected rooms, and dimly lit.

  Stars, how do these idiots find anything?

  According to the schematics she had brought up on her computer earlier, the first file would be in a back room off to the left.

  Once at the indicated location, she searched the walls in vain for additional light switches before giving up.

  Kirian pulled out her flashlight and adjusted the beam to its lowest possible setting. It still gave off plenty of light. She’d save the high power in case she needed it later. The first document she needed was KH763JN.

  Yes. There it was. She digitized and uploaded it with her hand-held and carried on in search of the next document.

  OPL98IUI.

  The search brought her to a ladder in the middle of a large room that smelled of old pages, sweat, and disinfectant. She climbed it and propped the flashlight on an upper step. Her eye caught the gleam of her bracelet, reminding her she was a prisoner despite all appearances. She shook her head.

  Nobody ever told you life was fair, Kirian. Just get on with it.

  Finding the second file, she rechecked her watch. At least she was almost done. She uploaded it and slid down the ladder to the floor.

  One more file to go.

  RWE010XS.

  Stars, that's in the other room, the one off to the right.

  She listened at the entrance before proceeding. Silence.

  Good.

  She opened the door leading to the other records room and began to tiptoe across.

  Halfway there, the reptilian appeared in the center of a group of half a dozen armed guards watching her sneak across.

  When did they get here? Kirian wondered if they were this suspicious of all new hires or only potential agents out to destroy the planet. Why hadn't they just charged in to attack her? Why lie in wait like a bunch of high schoolers pulling a prank?

  The reptilian charged her. Its mouth wide open. White teeth glistened in the dimly lit room.

  Stars.

  The other security guards weren't there to attack; they were there for the show. To watch her get eaten. They had their phones out, recording. A flash of anger hit her.

  She pulled the flashlight out of her jacket pocket and turned it to high beam. She hit the charging beast in the eyes with its full force. Blinded and screaming, it nevertheless kept coming.

  Kirian dove out of the way and scrambled toward the room that contained the last file.

  At the doorway, she drew her sleep ray and fired on the move. Two of the non-reptilian guards fell. She entered the records room and slammed the door, breathing heavily.

  RWE010XS.

  Kirian was entirely focused now. She and her flashlight were one, scanning the room. She figured the guards would help their friends and the angry reptilian; and then call for backup.

  She had at least a few minutes. The first part of the new plan was to get the file. The second part was to find another way out of the room without having to go through the main area. She had lost the element of surprise.

  A-ha! There it is!

  RWE010XS.

  Now her watch was flashing an ominous yellow warning message: “Documents due, documents due.”

  She uploaded the file quickly and hit 'Transmit.' The light stopped flashing. She let out a small sigh of relief. Mission complete, all she had to do was figure out a way to get out of records alive.

  She searched the room. No other doors, no other windows. It was just going to be that kind of a day. There was a knock on the door.

  "Um, occupied." Kirian didn't want them to come in, of course, but playing along with whatever delusion people offered was part of the game. And sometimes part of the fun. The door opened. It was the reptilian again, angry and ready for another shot at her. And it was wearing sunglasses.

  "I said occupied," Kirian snapped. The effects of the flashlight had worn off faster than she hoped. Now she was trapped.

  There were more security guards, and they started to chant. Not good.

  Kirian pointed her flashlight, but didn't turn it on. Blast. The sunglasses were an excellent idea.

  Reptilians needed almost no light to see. It could easily kill her wearing sunglasses inside. And look really cool doing it.

  The security people started laughing. They had their cameras out again. Not only was Kirian going to die, but she was also going to be eaten live on camera.

  She got an idea. She took a step toward the reptilian creature, stood up straight, and taunted it with the two pinkie-finger salute. The guards gasped. Could Kirian get it to make the same mistake twice?

  The reptilian charged again, mouth agape. The dripping saliva caught Kirian's attention. She watched it, mesmerized, nearly missing her chance to jump out of the way.


  Once Kirian darted to the side, the reptilian didn’t have the time or the ability to adjust its course. It slammed into the ladder teeth first.

  Huh, Kirian thought, it was dumb enough to get tricked into the same attack twice with the same result.

  The reptilian teetered for a moment, then fell to the side. Kirian knew it wouldn't stay down for long. She decided it was a good time to deal with the rest of the security guards. She sent half a dozen sleep ray blasts at the doorway leading out of the room. Some of the security guards fell. Others scattered.

  "I hope you got all that on video," Kirian said, taunting the ones still standing. She kept firing until the room had cleared.

  Something else caught Kirian's eye. One of the security guards she had blasted with the sleep ray was wearing a gothic dragon necklace on a chain around his neck. Staring at it, she was sure she had seen the symbol somewhere before.

  Kirian blinked and became aware again. She felt wet and looked down. Her hands were bloody, and she was standing over the guard with the dragon necklace. She checked herself, but she had no injuries, the blood must be from the security guard.

  She leaned down and checked him for a pulse. He was breathing.

  Kirian, what have you done?

  It must have had something to do with the dragon necklace. She took the shiny object and stuffed it into her pocket.

  Whatever this was, it was an escalation of her blackouts, and it wasn't good. The security guards that had escaped were bound to come back with reinforcements.

  Behind her, there was a stir. It was the reptilian again, under the ladder, shaking off the cobwebs. Kirian was out of time. She hopped over the security guards on her way out of records. She still had to get Ari.

  Wherever you are, Ari, it’s time to go.

  Ari left her boss's office, clutching the papers. She wandered over to the coffee and filled her cup. Then she thought about the papers she had brought aboard Kirian's ship when she left her other planet. She considered her old boss's face as he had fired and threatened her. Finding serious problems had never gotten her anywhere good in the past. It was not how she wanted to start her new job here. Especially not on her first day with a great boss. She wanted to be able to show off, but not alarm everybody.

  Hmm.

  Once again, she stared out over the city through the large glass windows. Except she was here with Kirian. Would Kirian, or whoever she worked for destroy this place? It wasn't beautiful, exactly. It was, in fact, just a city, with beings running around going to jobs and family. Like every other city.

  Why was there a Celestial army in the first place and why would they go around surreptitiously destroying planets? It wasn't Ari’s current problem, of course, but it was there in the back of her mind. If the Octopus Overlord of the Galaxy was behind all of this, then she should indeed be held accountable.

  Then again, one mystery at a time. She returned to her office and checked the results a third time. Searching new numbers on the computer, she tapped the eraser end of the pencil on the desk.

  Then she made up her mind. Having no choice left, she trudged back to her new boss's office and paused outside the doorway. Then she knocked, entered and sat.

  "Well?” he asked. “Have you triple checked the numbers yet?"

  He was sitting at his desk playing some tablet game.

  Ari patiently let him finish and look up.

  "Yes," she answered, taking a deep breath.

  Was he going to be mad? Argue with her? Try to talk her out of it? She wanted more than anything for things to stay the way they were, but she had reached a conclusion. Now it was out of her hands. "I'm afraid we're going to have to open an Intergalactic Inquiry."

  His eyes grew wide. He dropped the tablet on the desk and gripped the edge of his chair. "Are you sure? I mean, are you certain that there is no other way?"

  Ari exhaled. "Afraid so."

  "Yes," he said, banging a fist on the desk. "I've always wanted to do that. I suspected it might be necessary myself, mind you. But I'm management, and the politicians in charge never listen to me. It's always, 'get a specialist in here and we'll listen to them.'" He leaned forward. "If it's not too much trouble, can I see the report before you send it out?"

  "Of course," Ari answered, pleasantly surprised at how the whole thing was going.

  "And how soon will that be, do you think? I don't want to make you feel rushed or anything, but time is of the essence here. I want to beat everybody to the punch, you see. Maybe we're not the only ones who have figured it out."

  Ari breathed a huge sigh of relief. "I'll go work on it right now. I'm not sure. If I can't get it done by this afternoon, then for certain tomorrow morning. Is that okay?"

  "Splendid, my dear. Splendid." He leaned in toward her over the desk conspiratorially, which he could do because he was so spindly and tall. The effect was disconcerting.

  "When you're done with that, I have another secret to tell you," he said. "Something you're going to be amazed at. Oh, it's good. You simply won't believe it. And then you will. Because it makes perfect mathematic sense, and you're the sort who appreciates those types of revelations, am I right?"

  "You are right," said Ari, “and I do like a good secret.” She went to work on the Intergalactic Inquiry.

  Drexyl approached the Neon Octopus Overlord after breakfast when she was in a good mood.

  His fingers clenched the coffee mug in his hand even tighter than he meant to, he hadn't slept very well. The television was on nearly twenty-four/seven now, and he suspected she was keeping an eye out for more messages between the Staars.

  He hoped that in real life, the Staar bounty hunters were not as bad as they were portrayed in movies. Portable Staars, traveling between worlds wreaking malevolent destruction at will. His skin turned cold recalling late nights as a teen scaring himself watching the "true-tale" videos.

  What he wanted to ask Soda was if she had thought the whole thing through and had a plan to save him. And all of this was because of her. Even though she's immortal.

  “So, how does this whole thing work, with portable Staar bounty hunters looking for you and all?" he asked, trying to appear more conversational than worried.

  Soda turned from the television to face him. "You want to know what I did."

  He had to admit he was curious, but it wasn't his most pressing question. "I really want to know what you're going to do now that you know they're on to you."

  "You worry needlessly, my boy," she said, but a bead of sweat made its way down the side of her bulbous head. "A stray message or two in a dead-end galaxy does not an emergency make."

  Easy for you to say.

  "I don't have to read your mind to feel your fear." She glanced at the television. "I mean, yes, they're scary and yes I'd like to avoid them, but you're underestimating my power. And my Celestials as well. Soon there will be no Palladium in the galaxy and no more messages. They'll just keep looking elsewhere. Forever. The universe is a really big place.

  "Or the Staars will eventually find me. You know, Drexyl, it's uncertainty that makes the world go around."

  Drexyl was pretty sure it wasn't uncertainty that made the world go around. He guessed it was money. Either way, he was probably screwed.

  "Fine. We'll continue this conversation later when you're in a better mood," she cooed. "Now where are we with our planetary reports?"

  "Most of them are in. Waiting on a few."

  "Which few?"

  "Jadnl, Keeemncs, Reptar, Iuipper…" Reptar, he thought, that's where Kirian is. He didn't mention it because it might set Soda off again.

  He continued in a bid to distract her from Reptar. "I mean, all the power and resources of the galaxy and you just hang around here directing an astonishingly well-funded campaign to arbitrarily destroy planets. It doesn't make any sense. If I were you, I'd be out partying, for sure."

  "It's not arbitrary." Soda's voice was icy.

  Drexyl froze.

  "I'm th
e oldest being in this Galaxy. I'm the smartest, most efficient being there is. That's why I was appointed Overlord. I make all the decisions, and things move happily along. I've never received a single complaint, either," she finished with a flourish of waving tentacles.

  "Not since you changed the rules saying you can't complain on behalf of someone else."

  "Makes perfect sense," said Soda. "The board agreed immediately."

  Because dead people can't complain.

  "What did you think?" Soda demanded.

  Soda couldn't read his thoughts, exactly. It took an aggregate amount of info on context, speech patterns, body language and physical sensors in her tentacles to guess. Soda was very good at guessing.

  "Nothing."

  A noise blared, and a blinking yellow button shone on the far end of the console. Soda hit the button, the alarm stopped, and a message appeared on the screen.

  "What is it?" he asked. "What's going on?"

  Drexyl saw all of Soda's tentacles deflate. For the first time in weeks, they completely dislodged from his body. What was going on?

  Her face sucked itself in until Drexyl thought she would swallow her beak. An angry scream filled the room and tentacles lashed out, breaking nearby cups and knickknacks.

  Drexyl ducked down, hoping to stay out of the way of any collateral damage. He waited for the wave of noise and movement to subside, but a tentacle, sharp and pointy with anger, lashed out and cut his right calf.

  Blood ran down his leg. Not a lot, but the whole outburst was surprising. Soda quivered in the corner. With rage, Drexyl guessed.

  He moved closer to the console and started reading.

  "Official notice of Intergalactic Inquiry." He turned to Soda. "Well that's not so bad, is it? I mean, at least it’s not an official complaint, right?"

  Whatever caused the outburst, Drexyl was committed to making sure it didn't happen again. He had to calm Soda down. A quick glance in her direction revealed that had not yet happened.

  "From where, exactly," she said, her voice quivering, "did the Intergalactic Inquiry Originate?"

  Drexyl turned back to the screen and scanned the message. Stars. No. It can't be. Please, no.