Rocketship Patrol

by Greco, J. I.

  The airlock hatch opened on its own.

  “All right,” Loy announced, stepping out of the airlock, “everybody on this ship is under arrest!”

  Feh, standing unseen in the shadows on the side of the airlock, extended a webbed foot into her path.

  Loy tripped and started to fall, but recovered by turning the fall into a somewhat gracefully executed tuck and roll tumble, ending up in an alert combat crouch.

  “Okay, that one was on me,” Loy said, warily keeping her raygun trained on Feh and slowly coming out of her crouch. “Now, I repeat, you’re under–”

  The butt of an autorifle came down hard against the back of her head. Loy’s eyes rolled to white and she collapsed forward, unconscious.

  Behind Loy, Dag lowered the rifle. He prodded at Loy’s side with a fleshy toe. “Yep, she’s out.”

  “We have incapacitated the cop!” Dag yelled from the back of the hold. “Should we space her?”

  “No,” Cortez called back. “She’s just doing her job. Badly, but still… Make her comfortable!” Cortez was leaned back against the Exalted Refuse’s command nest-station, her legs crossed, the rent-a-speedship’s recovered data core on the floor in front of her. A patch cord connected the core to Exalted Refuse’s radio. Her palm holoflat blinked:

  DATA TRANSFER COMPLETE. BOOTY ONE DATA PACKAGE MOVED FROM PATROL ROCKETSHIP 8724 SHIP’S BRAIN SECONDARY MEMORY TO DATA CORE MEMORY MATRIX.

  Cortez yanked the data cable from the data core, then twisted around to look up at Vei, crouched in her nest-station. “This thing ready to go superluminal yet? I’ve got a schedule to get back on.”

  “We’re ready. You sure about this?” Vei asked. “We haven’t used the superluminal engine in a while – too expensive. There’s a good chance it will blow up, take us with it.”

  “I’m feeling lucky,” Cortez said, patting the top of the data core.

  Vei’s shell heaved with a shrug and she reached for the controls.

  Igon banged his claws against Patrol Rocketship 8724’s inner airlock hatch. “Open! Open!”

  “Would you please stop that?” 8724 asked. “Your ship has already undocked.”

  “Well, don’t just sit there,” Igon said. “Chase after it!”

  “I don’t take orders from you. Anyway... you destroyed my rockets, remember?”

  Igon gave the hatch a frustrated head-butt. “It can’t end this way! I really really really want to be stinking rich. And to propose... Propose?” He banged his head against the hatch again and started pacing. “Enough with the crazy love talk. She dies. That beautiful, wonderful piece of meat dies. And I get stinking rich. Has to be that way... Unless, dare I think it, she says ‘Yes’. We’ll honeymoon on the third moon of Varienk 3. It’s so romantic there, the way the methane rivers sparkle in the–” He stopped pacing. “Has it gone superluminal yet?”

  “No, but it appears to be powering up.”

  “Good… All right, listen, ship. You are going to shoot me out this airlock.”

  “Technically,” 8724 said, “I’m not allowed to do that. Safety protocols.”

  “Damn the protocols! Shoot me! For love! And money!”

  “Oh, didn’t say I wasn’t gonna do it,” 8724 said, and popped the inner airlock hatch open.

  Igon jumped into the airlock. The inner hatch closed and locked behind him as he skittered up to the outer hatch and went up on claw-tips to peer out its portal. The Exalted Refuse was getting smaller and smaller, slowly thrusting away, its rusty hull beginning to glow green. “Hurry!” Igon pleaded. “They’re going superluminal.”

  “If you insist.”

  The outer hatch snapped open, ejecting Igon in the rush of escaping air.

  Limbs flailing, Igon shot out in a straight-line vector away from Patrol Rocketship 8724 towards...

  Empty space.

  Panicked, Igon swiveled his bulb eyes around. The Exalted Refuse was way over there to his left, the green glow of her superluminal envelope growing stronger.

  Igon let out a curse, lost to the soundless void.

  Thruster pods popped out of his cylinder near his ass end. The pods oriented themselves and ignited, sending a twisting Igon around in a graceful arc aimed at the Exalted Refuse. He pulled his limbs into his cylinder and thrust faster and faster, closer and closer.

  Just as the glow around Exalted Refuse reached a peak of intensity, Igon reached the trawler. No time to slow down, all he could do was whip his limbs out wide and belly flop hard against the ship’s hull. He grabbed hold, claw tips biting into the hull to stop himself from bouncing off.

  Holding an ice pack on his bruised forehead, Hackenthrush stepped up to the main CRT on Patrol Rocketship 8724’s bridge. He watched as a glint of reflected light smacked against the hull of the Exalted Refuse just as it vanished into superluminal space.

  “Was that that crazy robot?” Rikki asked, favoring his ankle as he climbed up onto the bridge.

  “Yes,” 8724 said. “I must say, I am impressed he made it. I didn’t exactly aim him in the right direction.”

  “You don’t see that kinda thing every day,” Hackenthrush said, plopping down into his commander’s chair. “Rookie’s gonna kick herself for missing it.”

  “She didn’t exactly miss it,” 8724 said. “She was part of it.”

  “What?” Hackenthrush asked, moving the ice pack from his forehead to his chin.

  “She was aboard that ship,” 8724 said. “She boarded while you two were massively failing to apprehend the robot.”

  “Bummer,” Rikki said as he opened the First Aid locker and began rooting around. “Well, that’s another rookie dealt with. You think they’ll send us a blonde next time? Don’t know why, but I could really be into a blonde about now. –Damn it, we’re out of tequila. This day just keeps getting worse.”

  Hackenthrush’s shoulders sagged and he sighed at the CRT. “8724, do we know where they’re going?”

  “I’ve got an idea, yes,” 8724 said.

  Rikki’s ears flattened against his head. “That’s an awful provocative question to be asking. You wouldn’t be thinking about doing something stupid like acting like a real cop all of a sudden, would you?”

  “I am a real cop,” Hackenthrush said, a hint of injured pride is his voice. “Sure, I’m a particularly lazy, shiftless cop. But I’m not disloyal. Rookie what’s her name–”

  “Loy,” 8724 and Rikki said simultaneously.

  Hackenthrush nodded. “Yeah, what’s her name, she’s my partner. Hit on her, fire high-powered energy weapons at her, lace her bottled water with knock-out drops, that’s all kosher–esprit d’corps!–but let her get taken hostage her first day on the job... that’s just not something that looks good on a service record.”

  “Yank you right off this cushy assignment, won’t they?” Rikki asked, spotting the pile of spent tequila pouches around the base of Hackenthrush’s chair. He picked the nearest up and uncrumpled it, licking a finger and shoving it in to coat his fur with the powdered booze residue that remained on the sides of the pouch.

  “If I’m lucky,” Hackenthrush said. “More like they’ll stick me on the lonely side of a firing squad.”

  Rikki licked his tequila powder-covered finger. “Well, you’d better hope your will’s in order. We don’t have rockets. How we gonna go after anybody?”

  “We don’t need rockets for superluminal flight,” Hackenthrush reminded him.

  Rikki gulped. “Don’t suppose you would mind me staying behind, would you? –They didn’t take that life boat with them, did they?”

  “No,” 8724 said. “I had to set it loose but it’s still floating nearby. I could grapple it.”

  “There’s no time, Rikki,” Hackenthrush said. “Anyway, no way you’re getting out of paying your rent that easy.”

  Rikki huffed and crumpled the tequila pouch. He let it drop to the deck as he bent to pick up another. “So, 8724, where we going?”

  “The Otulak system.”

  �
�Ha,” Hackenthrush said, “for a moment there I thought you said Otulak system.”

  “Engaging superluminal engine.”

  Hackenthrush tugged at his collar. “On second thought, a firing squad isn’t the worst way to die…”

  NINE

  Junior Officer Loy awoke with a throbbing head and the smell of musky sweat filling her nostrils. She opened her eyes to find herself sprawled out on a nest wide enough for five of her. It was made of strips of cloth and shredded steel kept together by gobs of semi-rigid mucous. Some kind of communal bed, she guessed by the size and smell of it. Either that or a bathroom. Please don’t let it be a bathroom.

  She rolled onto her back and sat up, her hand going for her service raygun. Her holster was empty.

  “Yeah, we pretty much disarmed you first thing,” Cortez said. She stood nearby, arms crossed over her chest, Loy’s service raygun tucked into her jumpsuit belt.

  Loy rubbed the back of her neck where she’d been clocked. “Suppose it’s pointless to tell you you’re under arrest?”

  Cortez gave her a bemused smile. “Hasn’t been terribly effective so far, has it?”

  “No, I guess not. I really don’t know why I keep saying it.”

  “Because you’re a good cop, that’s why.”

  Loy snorted. “If I’m such a good cop… never mind. What are you going to do with me?”

  Cortez shrugged. “Fill you in, I suppose.”

  Loy’s eyebrows went up. “Fill me in?”

  “Well, you’re gonna have to know what’s going on if you’re gonna be any help to me whatsoever.”

  “Right, sure. –Why would I help you?”

  “Why wouldn’t you?” Cortez asked. “We’re both cops.”

  Black stars flicking above him in the endless pure white of superluminal space, Igon slowly crawled over the Exalted Refuse Inc.’s hull towards the dome of a cooling system exhaust vent.

  Reaching it, he ducked as the slats along its sides snapped open. Jets of superheated steam spewed from the dome. He waited until the steam jets petered out, then lifted himself and threw himself through a slat before it closed again.

  Low blinked. “You’re a what?”

  Cortez stepped closer and sat down cross-legged in front of the nest on the bare deck floor. “Not one of you run-of-the-mill system traffic cops, mind you. A real cop. Galactic Authority Police.”

  “Sure,” Loy said with a wry grin. “And I’m a twelve foot tall six-armed Grontauran.”

  “I’m serious.” Cortez flexed her robomechanical fingers in a specific, jerky manner as she raised her hand, palm up, in front of Loy. A tiny holographic image of Cortez, smirking in a crisp Galactic Authority Police dress uniform, appeared in the air above her palm. The holographic Cortez spun underneath an official-looking animated GAP shield. A list of authenticated security clearances and commendations scrolled along the bottom of the holobadge while marshal music played out of a tiny speaker in Cortez’s fingertip. She twitched her wrist and the music abruptly stopped. “Sorry, the GAP’s a little full of itself sometimes.”

  “So?” Loy squinted dubiously at the at the holobadge. “Nice forgery.”

  “Not a forgery. Ask yourself how I took over a patrol rocketship full of security protocols and anti-hijacking systems.”

  Loy’s eyes went wide with realization. “Of course. You flashed your badge.”

  “I flashed my badge. And after 8724 authenticated it, she let me commandeer her.”

  Loy shook her head and slapped her knees. “Son of a bitch. –So why the hell didn’t you just tell us you were a cop the second you boarded?”

  Cortez shrugged. “Seemed easier not to.”

  Dropping from a cross girder stretching the length of the hold’s ceiling, Igon landed on all sixes atop a jumbled stack of hollowed-out star fighter hulls. He lay himself flat against the dented and battle-scorched nacelle of a Keltz Industries Cobra Mk II snub fighter and scanned his surroundings. Once he was certain he had not been seen nor was he being observed, he scrambled half-way down the stack to his former, temporary utility robot body, laying discarded and powered-down on half of an airfoil from a Tung Shipyards Dengadenk class strafe-bomber.

  Igon slid next to the utility robot and rolled it on its side to tap a button on the base of the back of its neck.

  With a thrum of power, the utility robot body’s three eyes blinked on.

  “What the what?” Igon-2 asked, sitting up.

  Igon slapped a claw over the other robot’s mouth slot. “Quiet, me,” he said in a whisper. “It’s time for revenge!”

  “Frankly, I didn’t know if I could trust you,” Cortez said, standing. She offered Loy a hand and helped her to her feet. “Sting operation I’m working’s kind of important... my cover gets blown before I wrap it up, years of prep work are down the drain. Not to mention a whole bunch of really bad people won’t get to experience the pleasures of prison.”

  “Couldn’t trust us?” Loy asked, stepping out of the nest. “You just assumed we were corrupt?”

  Cortez grinned sheepishly. “No… not corrupt.”

  “Ah. Incompetent.”

  Cortez jogged her head for Loy to follow as she walked away from the nest and into the forest of junk piles. “Can you blame me?”

  Loy followed. “No, not really. I’m not saying I believe you for a second – badge authentication can be spoofed – but why tell me now? Aren’t you afraid I’ll screw up your big sting?”

  “Always that chance. But I admire your persistence. And under that horribly insufficient DUPES training of yours, there’s a good cop trying to get out.” Cortez took Loy’s service raygun out of her belt and handed it to her. “You might need this.”

  Loy flipped the raygun over – its battery pack was intact and fully charged. She holstered the raygun and sized Cortez up. “Assuming for the moment you really are a cop, the criminal mastermind thing, that’s a cover?”

  “A carefully constructed deep one, yes. The criminal bit, at least. I am quite the mastermind.”

  “All those crimes on your record were faked?”

  “Not all of them. Trick to a good cover is not excessively worrying about breaking the smaller laws.”

  “Like blowing up an elementary school?” Loy asked.

  “What can I say? I was seven. And my second grade home room teacher was a real ball-breaker. Didn’t let me draw on the class turtle or anything.” Cortez stopped under a particularly high junk pile, just in sight of Vei’s nest-station at the front of the hold. “But listen, keep this between us for now, right? Far as anybody else is concerned, I simply stole some data and we’re gonna sell it, for big cash. Just follow my lead when the time comes and you’ll get to share the biggest collar in history.”

  “I’ll go along – for now. It’d help if you told me the real plan.”

  “The real plan?” Cortez asked, and for no apparent reason did this graceful side-step away from the junk pile.

  A split-second later, the reason made himself apparent, as Igon fell – screaming a war-attack – from the top of the junk pile and hit the deck hard just where Cortez had been standing.

  Loy leaped back, surprised.

  “Nice of you to drop in,” Cortez said to the robot as he shook off the impact and pushed himself off the deck with all six limbs. Cortez glanced at Loy. “Well, point a gun at him or something.”

  Loy drew her raygun and raised it at Igon. “You’re under arrest–”

  Without warning, Igon leapt at Loy, knocking the raygun out of her hands on his way to body-slamming her in the chest.

  But he didn’t get to her chest.

  Cortez’s robomechanical hand plucked him out of midair just inches shy of impacting Loy. Igon swiveled his head around and spat curses at Cortez, all six limbs whipping wildly against her robomechanical forearm in a desperate attempt to free himself before–

  Cortez twitched her wrist and sent forty-thousand volts dancing over his alloy skin. “Okay,” Cortez said as
Igon went limp in her grasp, “this time, I’m blowing you up and you’re gonna stay blown up.”

  “Not if I blow you up first, dear,” Igon said, and whistled.

  On the other side of the hold, perched atop the massive superluminal engine block, Igon-2’s head titled to one side as he heard his compatriot’s shrill whistle. Giggling, Igon-2 raised a wrench in both hands over a green-glowing orb in the side of the engine block. He brought the wrench down. Again. And again.

  On the fourth strike, the orb shattered.

  The explosion threw Igon-2 clear off the engine block and, her superluminal envelope collapsing, sent the Exalted Refuse bucking back into normal space, black smoke pouring from her exhaust vents.

  Both Loy and Cortez looked aft just as a fireball billowed up against the Exalted Refuse’s domed hold ceiling and a terrible grinding roared from the direction of the engine block. Then the entire ship was bucking as it exited superluminal space, the deck under their feet heaving, bits of junk falling from the piles around them.

  One piece of falling debris – a broken fragment of kitchen sink – fell from the junk pile behind her and on to Loy’s back, knocking her soundly unconscious.

  Cortez glanced over as Loy grunted and went down. Taking advantage of the distraction, Igon shot out an arm and plucked the needler right out of Cortez’s thigh holster.

  As Cortez turned her attention back to him, Igon pointed the raygun at her nose and pulled the trigger.

  Nothing happened.

  “Damn DNA lockout!” Igon yelled, and threw the needler at her face.

  Instinct, Cortez dodged her head out of way, then clamped her robomechanical hand down around the robot’s cylinder. She began to twitch her wrist–

  “Not so fast,” Igon-2 said. The utility robot stood over Loy’s unconscious body, Loy’s service raygun in his hand and pointed at Cortez. “Put me down.”