John Michael and Eric glanced at each other and smiled.
Stephen Michael continued, “Not really, but he was grounded for ninety days by Uncle Lance a month ago after he stole one of the unused Pods to check out an area on Yoll.”
John Michael stopped before he stuck his fork in his mouth. “He stole a Pod?”
Stephen Michael replied, “Technically he took it without proper authorization. Since he had his father’s okay, Meredith allowed him to use it.”
Eric was cutting his meat. “How did he get Frank’s permission?”
Gabrielle answered, “Barb said he was vague on one of his questions to his dad, but then told Meredith to parse the recording, so she didn’t question the approval.”
Eric chuckled. “You’d think Meredith would learn.”
Gabrielle shrugged. “Apparently even an AI can be charmed.”
Stephen Michael shook his head. “I’ve heard the women talk. It would take an alien to be safe from that guy’s smile.”
Eric started reaching for the rice again, but stopped when Gabrielle looked at him. “What?”
She shook her head. “Go ahead. I have another bowl in the warmer.”
Stephen turned his head in the direction of the kitchen. “Are you serious?”
“Yes,” she replied. “Go get it. I can see from your dad dumping the rest of the rice on his plate that we will need it.”
“Damn right we’ll need it,” Stephen muttered as he stood up to grab the extra.
Eric put the empty bowl down. “Giles is a good guy, but he has too damned much of his mother and father in the wrong proportions for his own good.”
There was a moment of silence as Stephen Michael retrieved the rice. When he had returned, John Michael said, “So, we had a special assistant in training today.”
Eric noticed his wife’s eyes narrowing before he turned to his son. “Oh? Do I know this person?”
Stephen placed half the bowl of rice on his plate as he spoke. “She’s about a hundred and…” He looked up. “What do you weigh lately, Mom?”
She tapped her finger on the table for a moment before answering, “Enough to kick your ass, my impertinent offspring.”
“You always taught us to be straight talkers,” he replied.
“No,” she answered, “Straight shooters. Apparently I didn’t provide enough motivation for self-preservation when I taught this to you.”
John Michael came to his brother’s defense. “I’d say you gave Uncle John’s daughter a reason to work harder.”
Stephen Michael added, “You know what they say.”
John Michael looked at his brother. “There is nothing bigger than a Grimes’ ego?”
Eric disagreed. “That’s their youth, not their genes.”
John Michael changed his tune. “Okay, that pride cometh before a beatdown by Mom?”
Stephen thought back to all the training his parents had forced on him whether or not he wanted anything to do with martial arts.
And for him, that had been heavy on the “not.”
“That must have been funny.”
John Michael nodded. “Oh, it was. Let me tell you about…”
His mother interrupted, “Let’s not rehash a friend’s embarrassing lesson.”
Stephen Michael asked, “Why not? You always told Aunt BA when you kicked our asses.”
She shook her head. “That was different. That was two close friends chatting, not telling the whole group.”
John Michael seemed a little embarrassed. “Soooo… If someone maybe surreptitiously took a video of the fight and posted it to our squad’s website?”
Gabrielle didn’t miss a beat. “That would be bad, and that person should immediately pull it down.”
A moment later Eric pulled out his tablet. “OUCH!” He squinted. “That had to hurt. Oh, she’s pissed off now.” He shook his head. “Yeah, that’s not going to go well.” There was a loud thump from his tablet’s speaker. He looked up at his wife. “I haven’t seen that move since…” He looked up at the ceiling before returning his gaze to the tablet. “Have you ever done that to me?
She shook her head. “I was using some techniques I played around with in the eighties.”
Eric’s face scrunched up in confusion. “The nineteen-eighties? Which martial art?”
Everyone turned to look at Gabrielle, who cleared her throat and picked up a napkin. “The seventeen-eighties.”
Stephen Michael leaned forward. “How old are you, Mom?”
She shook her head. “Not saying a word. Have you tried asking Grandpa or Uncle Barnabas?”
Stephen Michael made a disgusted face as he stabbed a piece of meat. “Yes, but then Uncle Barnabas erased my memory.”
Eric looked at his son. “He did?”
Stephen Michael scratched the back of his head. “Well, he said he did. How is one supposed to know?”
For a moment everyone focused on eating before Gabrielle spoke again. “Okay, there’s something I need to tell you, and it might not be pleasant.”
Stephen Michael turned to his right and whispered loudly enough for those in the next suite to hear. “Dad, what did you do?”
Eric shrugged. “I haven’t been back long enough, so I don’t think it was me this time.”
Gabrielle’s eyes now had a faint red glow. Stephen Michael pointed at Eric, who was already pointing at his son.
Gabrielle shook her head. “Like father, like son.” She pushed her chair back a bit. “The Empire is changing, and it’s time that we all make decisions for our future. I know that you two are happy with your jobs, and I’m happy for both of you, but I’m thinking that I am ready to spread my wings again.”
John Michael smiled. “Are you going to beat up more people?”
Stephen Michael nodded to his right. “Like Dad?”
Gabrielle patted Eric on the arm. “I like to talk about how I kicked your Dad’s rear in the past, but I know he has been going easy on me for the last thirty years.”
Eric was staring at her, mouth open.
Stephen Michael reached for the rice. “Yeah, Dad, all it takes is watching you and Uncle John go at it to realize you always let Mom off easy.”
John Michael grabbed a bowl of Yollin corn. “Mom always says that because you love her, you can’t hurt her.”
Eric thought a moment. “Well, that’s true.”
John Michael reached for butter. “So tell us again how Mom had to drag you back from the edge of the pyramid when all those Leath were trying to get up the sides?”
Stephen Michael added, “And how Aunt Bethany Anne allowed all the weapons to get crunched when the columns fell?”
Eric chuckled. “Let’s not revisit old history. That was before you were born.”
Stephen Michael shook his head. “Hey, we were there.”
John Michael added, “Just not fully formed.”
Eric pointed his fork at his sons. “Guys, Mom’s important announcement?”
John Michael looked across the table. “Sorry, Mom.”
Gabrielle nodded acceptance before she continued, “I think it’s time I put away my apron.”
John Michael stared at her, surprised. “Holy shit, you ARE going to kick some more ass.”
Gabrielle looked at Stephen Michael, the one who preferred discussion over almost anything else. “Stephen?”
He thought for a moment before answering. “It’s who you are. I can’t change you. The Queen Bitch knows I’ve tried.”
She shook her head. “That isn’t polite, Stephen. Bethany Anne’s name shouldn’t be used as an oath.”
His eyes narrowed. “Why do you… I mean, I really did go talk it out with Aunt Bethany Anne, and she went all Queen Bitch on me and made me talk to her while she was in that crazy eyes-blazing-red state.”
John Michael looked at his brother with respect. “Bet that was cool.”
He snorted. “Hardly. I think I peed in my pants a little.”
“That takes
guts to admit,” John Michael said.
“I know, so keep it to yourself.”
“I got your back, bro.”
Eric interrupted, “So what do you want to do, sweetheart?”
“I’m not sure, but I’ve talked it over with Dad and he said he was proud of me and what I’ve done with his grandchildren.
John Michael nodded at his brother. “Even the pacifist?
Stephen Michael didn’t look up. “Realist. Not all people who ask questions first and shoot second, or maybe fifth, are pacifists.”
“Don’t worry, if a firefight happened I’d have you guard my back. I’d aim downrange.”
Stephen Michael ignored his brother and looked at his mom.
“What I’m saying is, Mom’s kitchen and life support services are now closed. You two are officially on your own.”
Eric watched all of this and stayed quiet.
John Michael glanced at his brother. “Bro, I think we just got kicked out.”
Stephen returned the look. “I think we did.”
Eric pushed back from the table. “Not before you do the dishes.”
Stephen Michael worked on his last four mouthfuls. “That will only take two minutes.”
Gabrielle reached under the table to squeeze Eric’s hand. “Then enjoy normalcy for two more minutes. After that it’s ‘fend for yourself’ time.”
John Michael muttered, “Wow, kicked to the curb so fast!”
Stephen asked his brother, “Do you even know what a curb is?”
He winked. “Yes, it’s a place you and I are at the moment.”
Gabrielle turned to Eric. “I blame you for this.”
Eric shrugged. “Each is at the top of his game in his own way. I think we did okay.”
She shook her head and gestured to her sons. “Then why do they each lose fifty IQ points when they are home?”
John Michael answered, “Because we are safe here. Out there is different.”
Stephen Michael agreed, “It’s kind of nice not to have to be ‘on.’”
John Michael spoke. “You have those who are important, but not well known, then you have those who are important in their roles…”
Stephen Michael added, “Then you have those who are the offspring of the Empress’ Bitches…”
John Michael continued his comment, “Not entirely complaining, but it kinda blows sometimes.”
Gabrielle told her son, “Suck it up, buttercup. Your enhancements are a token to help you be better.” She then added. “And survive if someone tries to take you out because of us.”
John Michael pursed his lips. “Yeah, maybe, but my EI won’t talk to me.”
Eric watched his son a moment. “One day you might wish it would shut up.”
CHAPTER NINE
Planet Devon, Passageway D-771
Baba Yaga strode down the second flight of stairs, hearing the steps of the Shrillexian behind her, ignoring the pissant.
She pulled her hood back over her head.
ADAM, have you figured out where Lerr’ek is at the moment?
>>Yes. About to pass through Park Area TT-745.<<
Which is where, in relation to us? she asked. As far as I know, it could be two left turns or half-way across this damned city.
>>About a thirty-minute walk without any foot traffic.<<
How about if I go outside and run?
>>I imagine it would…<
LOOK OUT! TOM yelled.
Baba Yaga was pulled into the Etheric, and she screamed as pain shot through her skull. She recognized the swirling white mist of the dimension as she fell to the ground.
—
“I’m telling you that flarsyn Witch was right here!” Keitphet yelled in disgust as he stomped down the stairs, the reverberations echoing down the cavern.
Two of his teammates looked around, wondering if maybe she fell down the last flight of stairs and was in some dark corner.
He thumbed the safety on his needler and shoved it into his waistband again. “Tell Jacklorn to get his running-away ass back here. She throws one little sizzling energy globe at his scrawny behind and he bolts.” He snorted. “Some big badass he turned out to be.”
“If she really is the Witch—” his first teammate started. She swallowed the rest of her statement when his Shrillexian eyes turned to her and narrowed.
He hissed as he pointed to where she had been. “I shot her fool head off.” He looked to the right and then over the rails. “Who lets an opponent walk behind them with a loaded weapon?” He shook his head. “The money for bringing in her head makes everything we got going look like slop feed.” He banged his hand down on the rails. “SHIT!”
—
Baba Yaga heard a voice in her skull.
>>And I’m telling you I was NOT causing her attention to wander. She asked me a question and I was answering it.<<
Pain was lancing through her head. “Would you two,” she moaned, “shut the fuck up? My cranium feels like it is going to split in two!”
Well, technically it almost did, Tom said. What were you thinking, allowing an enemy with a loaded gun behind you? Didn’t Petre’ fix this issue back on Earth?
“Got cocky,” she hissed. Moaning in pain, she moved her arms underneath her chest to push off the ground and sat up. She gingerly pushed the hood off her head and reached up to touch the back of her skull.
It was sticky, and still tender as hell. “How long was I out?”
>>About three paragraphs in our argument, so maybe a few seconds.<<
“Going to have to clean my cloak or trash it. This blood is going to smell.”
I wouldn’t trash it. We worked hard to have some protection woven into the material, TOM told her.
“What?” she asked as she studied her cloak’s sleeve.
Not there, just the hood. We figured you would wear armor, but never anything for your head so Billy the Binary Boob there was able to get something special added to the cloaks that were placed on the ship.
>>It seems like it helped stop those needles.<<
Which we wouldn’t have needed to worry about if Bethany Anne had been fucking paying ATTENTION!
“TOM, stop it. It wasn’t ADAM’s fault,” she hissed. “And in case you haven’t been paying attention, Bethany Anne isn’t here right now.”
No shit! he said before his presence disappeared.
She couldn’t feel him in her mind at all.
Baba Yaga waited a moment, but he didn’t come back. “Well, that’s one way to get rid of the insufferable little twit,” she hissed, frustrated.
>>I’m sure there are better ways than almost getting killed to encourage us to leave you alone.<<
“I don’t want to push away either of you,” she replied, lifting the hood back over her head, “but his comment wasn’t appreciated.” She stood and moved her head in a circle, willing the bones to crick. She leaned forward a bit to take a look, then straightened, moved over five steps, and looked again.
“Got you,” she snarled.
—
The two females were obediently waiting, eyes down a little, as the Shrillexian pointed at them, his yelling so vitriolic he was practically spitting.
“You are both useless when it comes to your jobs!” he yelled. “Giving back what you took from her bag was a worthless display of nice.”
A hand and arm appeared in the air behind him, and Keitphet saw the girls’ eyes focus on something over his shoulder. He twisted and reached for his pistol, but the hand grabbed his shoulder and pulled him backward.
The females blinked. Keitphet was just gone.
—
“You scaly little useless bastard,” Baba Yaga hissed in his face. “I can’t believe I let you shoot my ass you little worm.”
He tried to grab his gun and bring it around to shoot the Witch, but she grabbed his hand and crushed the bones. She bent the barrel on the needler at the same time. “How does that feel, you little shit?”
Ignoring his crie
s of pain, she flung the gun into the mist and shot a red ball of energy which met it ten feet away, melting it before it hit the ground.
Keitphet wasn’t paying attention. He was trying to get away, hoping he could figure out where he was and find a place to hide for a few days and let his hand heal.
Behind him an ink-black face was frowning, her sharp teeth glistening in the light. “That little fuck was the mastermind the whole time?” She shook her head in disgust. “What have I become? So egotistical that I let little scum like that almost drill me?”
She turned to spit to the side.
>>What are we going to do?<<
“I want to torture that little Shrillexian bistok prick so bad I can taste it,” she said. After taking a couple deep breaths she continued, “But I’ll settle for leaving him here to find his way home.”
She started walking into the mist in the direction he had run in. “Okay, maybe just a little bit of torture,” she said aloud. “I’m sure I’ll feel better knowing I got my pound of flesh.”
Don’t you want the Kurtherians more?
“Oh, there you are,” she hissed in exasperation. “What made you come out to play?”
Just wondering who you wanted more, that bistok prick or the Seven? TOM asked.
She stopped walking and her face was full of frustration as she looked in the direction he was jogging.
Her desire to find and flay him alive, his screams satiating her anger for shooting her, wailed in the forefront of her mind.
Her eyes flamed red in annoyance and she stopped.
“FUCK!” she screamed into the fog.
A moment later she disappeared.
Near Park Area TT-745
Lerr’ek walked through the park, giving himself an enjoyable few moments of peace amongst the trees.
Nock walked beside him. It had taken him a couple of weeks to find another bodyguard he could trust. Finding a Krenlock had been a miracle in itself.
Working for the Mistress of the Planet was almost a religious experience. As in, he had to have faith she would show up.
So far he was shipping a huge quantity of material to the Etheric Empire through a new cut-out, and that was starting to provide a nice balance in the company’s accounts.
Enough that he had sat down one night with three bottles of a drink that would put him on his ass and watched a mesmerizing multi-color video to help him ponder the future.
Capture Death Page 8