Skardon smoothed down his robes. “That’s an interesting subject, actually. You see, young Miss Swoochatowski suffers from a rare neurological condition known as Spicoli Syndrome. She is physically incapable of fear. Medically unflappable.” He turned to Swooch. “Which is why she was dishonorably discharged from the Geiko Prime Supernova Strikeforce.”
The helm officer nodded and slouched in her chair. “I went down behind hostile enemy lines. Bad guys got ahold of my fighter. The commanders got pretty bunched up about it.”
Hax tipped his head. “You were shot down?”
“Nah. I stopped for tacos.”
“She’s relaxed to the point of being a liability,” Skardon said, a hint of regret in his voice. “She’s a damn good pilot, but it’s not safe to leave her on the bridge unattended.”
“So we’ve noticed,” Leo grumbled.
“Then there’s crabby old Doctor Waverlee who can’t tell a heart attack from a hemorrhoid.” Skardon waved at Dilly. “And that horrible Dreda security chief.”
Dilly’s pitted eyes flashed. “Do not accuse it of being derelict in its duties.”
“Not at all,” Skardon said. “If anything, you’re too good at them. A beast like you should be cracking heads in a maximum security prison for the criminally psychotic.”
“So what are you saying, sir?” Dilly’s collar stated.
“I’m saying you scare people shixless. You’re a monster with no business rubbing your multitude of elbows with passengers on a luxury cruise liner. But we can’t very well fire you for that. Equal opportunity protections and all.”
“So you chose to exterminate it instead.”
“It was the easier solution,” Skardon admitted.
Kellybean’s neck fur ruffed. “But you did fire me! I didn’t even work for WTF anymore! Why would you hire me back just to kill me?”
“Are you serious?” Skardon asked. “You burned down three decks of the Opulera!”
“She what?” Leo sputtered. He turned to Kellybean. “I thought you left because of a bad breakup!”
“I did! I was upset and I had a drink. And then another drink.” Her nose twitched. “And then I kinda set fire to my ex’s office.”
“Dang,” Jassi muttered. “We’ve gotta get you in a program, girl.”
Skardon’s lips pulled tight. “Pyrrah was furious she’d been dumped by a lesser being. Frankly, so was I. It turns my stomach to think of a filthy mammal treating my niece with such disrespect.”
“Hey, she’s the one who treated me with…” Kellybean’s yellow eyes widened. “Wait, Pyrrah is your niece?” She cringed. “I did not know that.”
“You defiled my ship. Worse than that, you defiled my family’s honor,” Skardon seethed. “Firing you wasn’t enough. I want you dead.”
Burlock blinked helplessly. “This isn’t like you, sir. You don’t punish failure with murder.” He raised his metal hand and tapped on his metal brow. “When I failed you in the siege of Rankorrdar, you rescued me. You gave me these implants. You didn’t leave me to die for my mistake.”
“Mistake?” Skardon clucked a laugh. “There was no mistake on Rankorrdar. Everything went exactly according to plan.”
Burlock’s eye lens flashed. “Sir?”
“You were set up to fail. And when you did, I swooped in to evac your team.” Skardon grinned at the memory. “Each of you were loyal to the Imperial Navy, but after that day, you were loyal to me. Personally. Five blood debts. Five savage grunts to do my dirty work, forever.”
“You sent my team on a suicide mission?” Burlock roared. “On purpose?!”
“And I’ve sent you on countless suicide missions since, but you always manage to come back, eternally loyal and eager to do my bidding.”
Burlock took a menacing step toward the admiral’s image. “I do have a bad habit of surviving suicide missions.” He flicked his fingers, unsheathing his blades. “And when I survive this one, I think you’ll find my loyalty has somewhat faded.”
Skardon sighed. “Well then, I guess it’s time to finish the job I started on Rankorrdar.” He glared into the camera. “You are dismissed, soldier.”
The admiral swiped at his tabloyd band and a high-pitched whine filled the bridge of the Americano Grande. Burlock wailed in agony and fell to his knees. His skull sizzled at the edges of his cranial implant. Tendrils of black smoke seeped through the seam between flesh and metal.
“Burlock!” Leo screamed. “No!”
He tried to rush forward to help, but his legs were still bound in Dreda silk. With a wild kick, he launched himself at Burlock. In one awkward movement, he grabbed the prosthetic, yanked it free, and gave it a desperate heave. The implant sailed across the bridge and burst in a sharp pop of yellow pyrotechnics.
“Ooh! Pretty,” Swooch cooed.
Leo crashed to the ground. Burlock toppled over, smoke still pouring from his voided skull. Dilly reared back and wailed in anguish.
“Burlock,” its collar said calmly. “No.”
On the screen, Skardon’s expression drooped with disappointment. “Aww, you ruined everything, you stupid ape. I was about to say, ‘Did I blow your mind?’ It was going to be hilarious.”
“How can you joke now?” Dilly said, cradling Burlock’s lifeless body. “You killed Burlock.”
Skardon shrugged. “You’ll all be dead in a few minutes.”
Kellybean growled and clawed through her bindings. “Damn it, Skardon! You can’t just leave us here to die!”
“We kinda already did,” Stobber said. “And now I gotta find a new drummer and guitarist for Murderblossom.”
“Huck you,” Jassi said. “I gotta find a new bass keytar player for Murderblossom. It’s my band!”
“It is not!” Stobber barked. “I’m the lead motherhucker!”
“Nobody cares!” Leo cried.
“For once, MacGavin is right. Nobody cares. About any of you.” Skardon grinned at Leo, still lying on the floor, half bound in silk. “You poor, pathetic creature. My only regret is that you won’t be around to see me become president of WTF cruises and begin the demolition of Eaglehaven.” He swiped at his tabloyd, pulling up the hologram of the placid blue-green globe. “I can’t wait to start painting the town brown.”
“You lousy jerkhole!” Leo pushed himself upright against the captain’s chair. “I thought you Ba’lux were supposed to act with honor! Do you think killing a bunch of innocent people to win a contest is honorable? What would your mother think of all this?”
Skardon snorted a chuckle. “My mother is a withered old fool who’s far outlived her usefulness. As soon as your asinine ship is destroyed, the senile old crone will cede full control of WTF to me. No one will ever know about my, shall we say, temporary lapse of integrity.”
“Well then, I guess you win. Good for you. You bested us all. But there’s one thing I still don’t understand.” The captain’s chair squeaked as Leo grabbed its arm and forced himself to his feet. “How did I end up with a tabloyd with kid credentials?”
Skardon cocked his head. “I already told you, I had personnel make an unaccompanied minor device for me, then I swapped it for the captain’s before Varlowe gave it to you.”
“Ah. I see,” Leo nodded. “So you asked them to make an unaccompanied minor tabloyd for you?”
“Yes! What’s your point?”
“Nothing. It’s just, I think they literally made it for you. They synced it to your WTF account. That’s why it downloaded your documents and your contact list.”
Skardon smirked. “Those both should have been restricted. Children’s tabloyds are completely locked down except for the emergency contact app.”
“Remind me, what’s the name of that app?”
“Call Mommy!”
Leo smiled. “Oh, I already did.”
He pulled back his sleeve and a holographic call in progress beamed out of the band on his wrist. Its heart-shaped bubble conta
ined the wrinkled, sagging face of Madame Skardon.
And she was pissed.
“Mother!” The admiral’s eyes went wide and he adjusted the collar of his robes. “Ah. Hello. Uh… how long have you been listening?”
“Long enough to figure out how to make it a conference call.”
The old woman mashed a withered finger on her band and three more bubbles appeared above hers, containing Willijer, Kersa, and Varlowe. Their expressions ran the gamut from appalled to furious.
Stobber snorted a laugh and clapped a hand on Skardon’s back. “Oh man, you are so hucked.”
Skardon turned to the cluster of orange heads above Leo’s wrist. “I assure you, this isn’t as it seems. I can explain everything at the next board meeting.”
“You can explain it now,” Varlowe growled. “To our faces.”
Skardon whirled to see the WTF executive board enter the Opulera’s shuttle bay, each with caller bubbles floating around their arms. His mother was in the center, rolling in her rickety, powered chair. She dropped the call, sending a ripple of popped bubbles across everyone’s wrists.
“So…” Madame Skardon seethed. “I’m a ‘withered old fool,’ am I? Or was that ‘senile old crone’?”
The admiral winced. “Some of my remarks may have been taken out of context…”
Varlowe crossed her arms. “You just explained, in detail, precisely how and why you’re murdering an entire WTF crew. What are we taking out of context, exactly?”
Skardon stabbed a finger at Stobber. “It was the Nomit’s idea! He made me do it!”
“Pfft, whatever,” Stobber said, chugging his beer. “I don’t even know this arzehole.”
Madame Skardon eyed her son. “Have you not a single shred of honor or dignity left? This contest is over. Varlowe wins.”
Varlowe pumped a fist. “Yes! Thank you, Madame Skardon!”
“But Moooooom!” The admiral’s shoulders slumped and he pointed out the shuttle bay door at the doomed ocean liner. “The ship didn’t make it to Ensenada Vega! You said if—”
“Quit your whining, you snotty little whelp! You cheated and now you’re getting what’s coming to you.” Madame Skardon waved a hand at Varlowe. “This one may be terrible at running a business, but at least she’s honest about it.”
Willijer scrolled on his tabloyd. “Additionally, pursuant to the charter, Rip Skardon is hereby removed from the board, due to a comprehensive list of felonies.” He pushed up his glasses. “Committed, attempted, and still pending.”
“Blast you and your blasted charter!” Skardon screamed. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily!”
He thrust his hands into his robes and came back with two Imperial-Navy-issue pulse rifles.
“Varlowe!” Leo cried. He instinctively moved to protect her, but he was on the wrong side of the screen and several thousand miles of open space.
Varlowe’s eyes narrowed defiantly at Skardon’s guns. “Put those away! Are you insane?”
“I’m not insane! I’m just highly motivated for advancement!” Skardon raised his weapons. “And I’m going to be the next president of WTF, even if it has to be over your dead bodies!”
“Skardon, stop!” Leo screamed. “You don’t have to do this!”
“I do now! Because of you!” Skardon aimed a gun at Varlowe’s head. “If you’d have just died quietly like you were supposed to, your little girlfriend could have lived!” Spittle flew from his mouth. “You did this! Their blood is on your hands!”
Dilly stood over Burlock’s body. “There will be no more bloodshed. Stand down, Admiral. While you still can.”
“You’re in no position to be making threats, you eight-legged—”
Dilly cut him off with a deafening screech.
“No translation available,” its collar intoned.
Skardon’s head whipped to the side as he was smashed in the jaw by a jet of spider web. A second blast nailed him in the chest, followed by three more across his body. Stobber yelped and tried to scramble away, but a barrage of webs wrapped his legs, slamming him to the ground and sloshing his brew.
“Careful, man! There’s a beverage here!”
Leo gaped at the feed as ten Dreda security drones scuttled in and swarmed over their screaming prey, binding them in the most brutal way possible. He turned to Dilly in shock. “Your drones are on the Opulera!” he stammered. “How?”
“Its duty is to protect passengers.” Dilly nodded at the shuttle bay full of Americano Grande lifeboats. “Would be careless to send off boats without security.”
“Dang,” Leo muttered. “You are good at your job.”
Varlowe scrambled toward the camera, filling the view with her frenzied face. “Don’t worry, Leo. We’re sending the lifeboats back for you!”
Leo looked up from the call to the mouth of the Blue Hole looming off the bow. “Better make it fast. I don’t think we have much time.”
“I’ve already got pilots gearing up.” Varlowe said. “But you have to evacuate before you cross into the accretion disc. After that, there’s no chance of—”
The hull rumbled and the floor jerked as if the Americano Grande had been broadsided by a tsunami. Everyone who wasn’t tied down tumbled to the deck as the comm went dead. Klaxons blared and searing blue lightning sizzled across the window.
“What happened?” Leo screamed.
Swooch stretched and yawned. “No biggie. We just crossed into the accretion disc.”
Chapter Seventeen
Scorching bolts of white lightning arced across the sundecks of the Americano Grande. Cabanas exploded and gunwales seared under the punishing storm as the ship coasted into the Blue Hole’s unstable accretion disc.
Everyone on the bridge had been cut free of their spider web bindings and had taken positions at the consoles. Swooch remained at the helm, Kellybean had commandeered MonCom, Jassi was at EngTech, and Hax parked himself at the auxiliary console at the rear. For lack of anywhere else to go, Leo perched squeamishly in the captain’s chair.
The window was opaque with boiling swirls of blue gas, laced with blinding streaks of unbridled cosmic power. Impacts of high-velocity rock pitted the impervious glass. The comm link still floated on its surface, showing nothing but rolling fuzz.
Kellybean scratched at her panel. “Ugh! I can’t connect to the Opulera!”
“The comm array is down,” Jassi said. “When we hit the storm it put up a blast shield like a little bish.”
“Can you force it open?” Leo asked.
“No problem!” Hax said. “But it will destroy the array and trigger a feedback cascade large enough to fry the ship’s internal atmosphere.”
Leo nodded. “Maybe just leave it closed then.”
In the back corner of the bridge, Dilly was crouched beside a medical gurney that held Burlock’s unconscious body. Doctor Waverlee fussed over him, wiring him to the bed with a series of electrodes and suction cups. Her gills wrinkled inside the water-filled bubble of her helmet as she probed the scalded mass of his head.
“Hoo! I’m glad I can’t smell that!” She grabbed the gurney’s diagnostic lid and tried to close it, but the bottom thumped down on Burlock’s barrel chest before it latched. “Ugh, shoulda brought the big bed.”
Jassi sneered. “Why even bother saving that jagoff? He was ready to kill us all five minutes ago.” She looked out at the storm hurling rocks at the window. “Plus we’re all about to die anyway.”
“We are not,” Dilly said. “Captain will think of plan.”
Hax shrugged. “That seems unlikely, considering most of his head blew up.”
Dilly rested a hand on Burlock’s shoulder. “Not this captain. The real captain.”
It turned to Leo.
Leo’s eyes widened. “Who, me?”
“It was mistake to remove you from command,” Dilly said. “Magnetosphere failure was not your fault. Nothing was your fault.”
; Leo scratched the back of his neck. “Well, okay, true, but—”
“No buts! You’re the captain!” Kellybean mewled, slashing a claw at the window. “And we’re going into a gravity well! So put on your big boy pants and give some orders!”
“Right! Orders!” Leo chirped. “Okay! Somebody figure out what we have to do to fix the engines!”
“Damage report, coming up!” Hax said cheerfully. He swiped on his screen and a three-dimensional wireframe holo of the ship appeared above his console. Its decimated systems were laid bare in color-coded layers, laced with blinking error messages. “Hmm. I think we can get the engine pods back online, but we’ll need to repair at least two of these systems.” He pointed to flashing areas. “The ion governor and the linkage to the photon boiler.”
Leo turned to Jassi. “Can you reroute around the damaged circuits?”
“How am I supposed to do that?” Jassi asked.
“I don’t know!” Leo admitted. “That’s a thing you engineering people always say! ‘Ooh, there’s a system failure, I’ll have to reroute around the damaged circuits.’” He turned to Swooch. “Am I right?”
Swooch nodded. “It’s their favorite go-to.”
“I can’t reroute into nothing.” Jassi rapped a knuckle on her console. “This isn’t a blown plasma conduit or some shix. Those systems were torn out by a motherhucker who wanted them to stay broken.”
“Jassi’s right,” Hax said. “Wanton destruction is apparently Stobber’s only technical skill. He didn’t leave thru-circuits in any critical junctions. It’ll all have to be manually patched.”
“So let’s do that,” Leo said. “We can do that, right?”
The robot held his hand to the holographic diagram and his fingers twitched open and closed like calipers, measuring distances. “We can do that!” he said brightly. “I’ll need about seven hundred feet of cable, connected to components over three decks.”
“Awesome!” Leo cheered. “Do we have that much cable?”
“According to the ship’s manifest…” Kellybean poked her console and frowned. “We do not have any.”
Galaxy Cruise: The Maiden Voyage Page 21
