Anger Management

by Lawrence M Schoen

  Both Box stopped moving as their systems tried to account for a human they just knew was comatose, ostensibly permanently so, their ratiocination in crisis as she rose up from her bed. It most certainly did not compute. The Box hated it when things failed to follow their carefully calculated and logically arranged plans.

  Not that Tycho cared a whit about the Box or their expectations. She didn’t care about anything. She just planted a hand on the mattress and vaulted off the bed in her hospital gown. Her bare feet landed in front of an avatar at the same time as her cold eyes locked on it. Looking into those eyes any human being would have recognized that a decision had been made the instant they'd opened, a decision that nothing short of the hand of God could alter.

  Without wasting a breath, Tycho flew into motion. Before the nearer Doos could react, she had grabbed its closest weapon, tugged it under her arm and rotated her own body to lock it in. Then she hit the release button on the limb. With a twist she popped the weapon off and pulled it to herself.

  Tycho continued her spin, whirling away from the Box.

  The Doos struggled to pursue, even as it attempted to reassess and process this new data of the impossibly no longer comatose woman and her efficient, arguably predatory movements.

  Then Tycho came to a halt, having opened up a bit of distance between herself and the Box. She flicked her wrist and reversed the weapon in her lithe hands.

  Without any trace of emotion on her face, she aimed at the Doos she'd taken it from and fired.

  A discharge of molten-metal wrapped in electricity shot out of the weapon, seared its way through the Box’s body, and continued on to the wall and through into the bathroom beyond. A ring of smoke drifted up from the hole in the wall and small flames licked at its edges.

  The Doos looked down and examined the hole in its carapace. The placement of the damage was entirely to secondary systems and it was amazingly still operational, at least for the moment. It turned the remainder of its weaponized limbs toward Tycho.

  The first to fire emitted a pulse of kinetic energy. It slammed into Tycho’s abdomen and threw the young woman across the room like a rag-doll. She smashed into a floor-to-ceiling mirror, shattering it with her impact.

  Her body and the shards of glass fell to the floor in a heap.

  Blood streamed from Tycho’s back. It trickled down her arms where small bits of glass glittered in her skin.

  Scant seconds ticked by and those same fragments began to fall to the floor as Tycho’s flesh healed, pushing them out. A heartbeat later, she raised her deadpan eyes to the Doos that had shot her.

  The Doos oriented its sensors on her but paused its attack as it attempted to make sense of her miraculous recovery.

  Tycho didn’t think about it at all. She didn't stand. She just elevated and leveled her weapon. She fired again and again, her finger exerting even pressure against the trigger mechanism.

  When she lowered her weapon the hesitant Doos had been reduced to a smoldering slag of metal and ceramic.

  The entire exchange, from Tycho's first blast, to her being thrown across the room, to her destruction of the first Box avatar had involved fewer than ten seconds. The second Doos had originally assessed it was not needed to put down the human and had continued its pursuit of Potato, at least until the barrage that eliminated its counterpart. Now it stared at Tycho, cognitively moving her in some internal Venn diagram of sets of combatants and noncombatants on Titan. It whipped one of its limb-weapons around its body and began firing wildly in an attempt to drive her before it, force her to seek cover, and thereby control the woman's movements until it could trap her.

  Tycho dove across the floor, dodging the weapons fire, seeking refuge in the doorway to the bathroom. She landed on her shoulder and rolled back to her feet like an acrobat.

  She wasted no effort — every move was efficient and effective — and sprinted to her left across the length of the bathroom. Bullets tore up the walls and floors in her wake. Plaster, dust, and shards of expensive, imported tile filled the air.

  Tycho slid across the marble on her knees and used the momentum to pivot back toward Doos as its treads carried it to the bathroom door in pursuit. It was almost too easy. She aimed and struck back with her own weapon, intending not to take down the Box — because at some level she'd already learned a single shot couldn't manage that — but instead to engulf the end of the Box’s weapon, rendering it useless as it melted in front of her cold eyes.

  The Doos disconnected the useless limb and let it fall away. It switched to its next mode of attack and Tycho was forced to leap to her feet and away as a jet of flame rushed out in front of her.

  She backpedaled and jumped on top of the toilet tank, once again at the end of the opulent bathroom.

  The added elevation allowed her to leap over the Doos's next flame attack. She landed directly in front of it in a dive and roll, pressing herself flat against the floor and sliding between its treads to emerge behind it, back into the bedroom.

  Potato stood waiting for her, scampering from side to side in a state of high excitement, its tongue lolling happily.

  The avatar cursed, and quickly reversed direction. It had a shot at Tycho, but held its fire for fear of endangering the semi-divine alien cavorting behind her.

  Tycho ignored Potato. She spun, came up on one knee and began firing at the Box. She took out its flame thrower in the first round and then another caught the Doos in its central carapace, driving it back by the force of the blow. The avatar attempted to orient a different weapon on its opponent, but Tycho didn't give it the time.

  While it was still bringing yet another of its weapon-limbs to bear, she sighted down her improvised rifle and put two more bursts of searing energy and white hot metal into the main body of the Box. Its lights went out, figuratively and literally, and the avatar rolled backwards into the bathroom and bumped into the wall.

  A moment later, all its remaining limbs fell limp to the floor with a crash.

  Tycho never uttered a single word. She didn’t even breathe hard. She simply stood up, walked over to the Box and proceeded to disconnect all of its serviceable weapons. She then rigged a pair of slings and harnesses from torn bed sheets, draping herself with her newly acquired arsenal. Along the way, she repeatedly cut her feet on the mirror shards littering the floor near the bed but didn't notice and certainly didn't slow.

  Fully equipped, she paused to gather a frolicking Potato under one arm and stalked away. She paused briefly to gaze down at the unconscious and still convulsing body of Dr. Acorns. The spasms had slowed. A silky black had replaced her red hair and her body had shrunk to become a twin of Tycho's. The original took no interest and didn’t say a word, merely nudging Jessica with the business end of a weapon before she exited the bedroom, her bloody feet leaving dainty prints on the carpet. By the time she reached the exit to the outer hall, the blood had stopped flowing and Potato was busily licking her arm.

  Chapter 13

  Coop looked over his shoulders every few seconds. Al had said most of the Box were at the spaceport's exits, with only a few actually roaming its streets. And Jess had said their sniffers were focused on tracking her and Potato. In theory, depending on how porous his pillow case was, he might be able to walk right past one without it caring.

  «Ben, it's a cloth sack. Granted, it's got a high thread count, but it's porous. »

  “Right, so… let's just not run into Doos until we're done with our errands.” With visions of writhing weapon tentacles dancing in his head, Coop picked up his pace. He made good time as he wove through the crowded corridors amidst the hustle and bustle of the port’s more industrious neighborhoods.

  He knew his destination well. After all, he’d already destroyed the place twice in the past week. As he stood outside the entrance to the bar where he’d caused so much excitement Coop found himself feeling a little wistful.

  “You know Dyrk, I agree with our plan. But I kinda feel bad walking in here.”


  «Why? After that epic fight with the Box and all the booze and boobies you paid for, these people love you.»

  “We wrecked the place. Twice. In the harsh light of sobriety, they may not be quite as welcoming as you think.”

  «Well, we need some volunteers and this place is full of humans down on their luck, even by Titan's standards. So, unless you have a better idea…»

  Coop grunted his agreement and pushed open the door. The place was different at midday. No dancers gyrated on the stages. The music that played was soft rather than blaring as it had been during his previous visits. Only a handful of customers sat around, more concerned with their greasy lunches than their beers. Well, except for one guy who looked still passed out in the corner, same as he'd been during Coop's previous visits.

  “I’m going to assume he just never leaves,” Coop muttered as he passed the sleeping regular.

  The other thing that remained consistent was the presence of the adorable bartender, Lilly. She occupied her usual position behind the counter.

  As Coop strode into the room, Lilly turned to see who had entered. She crossed her arms and her welcoming smile took on a much more suspicious expression.

  “See what I mean?”

  «Maybe she didn’t sleep well. You don’t know that she doesn’t like you. I mean, what are the odds? Women love action heroes.»

  “Dyrk, I have lots of experience making women angry. You’ll just need to trust me on this one.”

  Coop held his hands up in a placating gesture as he approached the bar.

  Lilly didn’t look mollified.

  “Well, well. If it isn’t the human tornado. Will you be behaving yourself today or should I just go ahead and set the place on fire to save us time?”

  “Nothing like that, I promise.”

  She sneered at him. “What's with the pillow case? You don't strike me as the slumber party type.”

  «You know Coop, you may be right. I don’t think she likes you.»

  She doesn’t like us. Its my face, but you started all those damn fights.

  «I know that. You know that. But she doesn’t know that. Hence, she hates you. Good luck.»

  Coop sighed and turned his attention fully to Lilly. It wasn’t hard. She was really hot.

  “Lilly, I get that I have caused you a lot of trouble recently. But I promise, I’m here for totally peaceful reasons today. No fights. No broken furniture. No cops. I’m actually hoping to help someone.”

  Lilly didn’t uncross her arms, but she at least looked curious. “Who are you trying to help?”

  «Whom,» Dyrk offered helpfully. Coop ignored the unsolicited grammatical advice, not least because he wasn't sure if it was right or not.

  “Well, I’m not sure yet. I have an opportunity for someone, but I don’t know many people on Titan. But you do. And that’s why I came here. To see if you could help me find the right people.”

  From behind the bar he could hear that she'd started tapping her foot. Whether that was a good sign or the opposite he had no idea.

  “Go on.”

  “You may not believe me, but I need to find people who are looking to leave here. Three people. A man and two women who want to get off Titan and go back to Earth, all expenses paid.”

  The young bartender wiped a glass with a rag and shook her head. “You’re right, I don’t believe you.”

  Coop had spent his entire adult life as an actor. He could do sincerity, and especially in this instance when he truly meant what he was saying. He plastered his face with the most earnest expression in his extensive repertoire and leaned in against the bar. “Lilly, I’m serious. I need help and if I can find the right people, I can help them. But this isn’t an opportunity for just anybody. They have to be fed up with this place and need a way out. I don't think it will be dangerous, but I won't lie, it isn’t without risk.”

  Lilly laughed. “You really are new. That description — being fed up with life here? — could fit just about everybody who walks into this bar. Everyone comes to Titan thinking they’re going to get rich, or at least make a good living. But almost nobody does.”

  “Why not? The other nights when I was here, it seemed like business was booming.”

  Lilly looked bitter. “It just doesn’t work like that here.”

  Coop managed to look concerned and project empathy. Winning over a bartender wasn't all that different from winning over audiences. “There’s something behind that statement. What’s your story?”

  Lilly replied with a scowl. “There sure is. But it's none of your damn business.”

  «Is this how you charm women?»

  Coop ignored the viral echo in his brain.

  “Lilly, I know I’ve caused a lot of headaches for you. But you don’t know me. Not really. I’m a good guy. Most of the time. And I always try and fix my mistakes. Didn’t I make things right here? Didn’t I pay for the damage I caused, and then some?”

  “Sure.” She did not seem impressed by the reminder of his restitution. She picked up another glass, wiping at it even more furiously.

  Coop valiantly continued. “If I can help, I want to. But if you won’t even take the chance of talking to me, there isn’t much I can do.”

  Lilly’s hands did not relax, but she set down both glass and rag, opting instead to cross her arms and jam her hands all the way up into her arm pits as consternation wracked her features.

  Coop nudged. “You have to trust somebody, sometime.”

  Lilly sighed. “You said you need a man and two women?”

  “Correct.”

  “Does it matter how old they are or what they look like?”

  Coop considered and then remembered how effective Al seemed to be. “No. It really doesn’t.”

  The bartender took a deep breath. “I came here three years ago with my younger brother and sister. We… needed to get out of where we were, and Titan was the first place we had the chance to go.”

  “What happened?”

  “What happened?” she snorted. “Life happened. Our dad was an absentee jerk who spent more time in prison than with us. And our mom got cancer. Probably from her job working with toxic herbicides for one of the big agra-combines.” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I was twenty-one and suddenly had two teenagers to take care of. My brother had already gotten in trouble with the cops a couple of times because he was a dumb-ass who hung out with a bunch of losers who turned out to be even bigger dumb-asses. And those loser friends were paying way too much attention to my fifteen-year-old sister. So, it was time to get out.”

  “And Titan beckoned.”

  “Yeah. In hindsight, I shoulda known the deal was too good to be true.”

  “Was it?”

  “Mostly, yeah. But not totally. My brother learned a trade and he grew up some. If you fuck up on the job on Titan, somebody dies. So, he learned quick. And it turns out my sister is a pretty damn good linguist. She picks up languages like it’s cool and has been working at one of the hotels as a translator. But it's Titan, so the pay sucks and the benefits are non-existent. And that means we’re stuck.”

  “And you became a pretty damn good bartender.”

  Lilly shrugged. “Yep.”

  “Where I come from, good bartenders that look like you can make a good living.”

  “Oh yeah? Well, that’s great. But I’m here. Not there.”

  “Lilly, maybe we can fix that. Give me a minute.”

  Coop stepped away from the bar and pulled out the comm device Al had provided him. The alien fixer answered almost immediately.

  “Cooper, how may I help you?” Al's voice spoke in a smooth tone through the implant in the actor's middle ear.

  “I think I found our stand-ins. Am I correct that they just need to be adult humans of the matching gender?”

  “Yes. It would be better if there were a passing resemblance. But my people can work with most anything.”

  “Okay, let me close the deal and I’ll send you a message with th
e details.”

  “Very well, but hurry. Time matters Mr. Cooper.” Al ended the call and Coop returned his attention to Lilly who was once again cleaning shot glasses.

  He leaned against the bar again. “Okay, Lilly. Here’s the deal. As you may have noticed, my friends and I ran afoul of some aliens. The Box. They’re all jerks.”

  “The ones that chased you here?”

  “Exactly. And we need them to think we left Titan. We have the tickets. We have the money. What we need are people to act as decoys.”

  “Won’t the Box be angry at being tricked? I would be, and I'd want to take out that anger on your decoys.”

  “Maybe. Like I said, there's some risk. But from what I've seen, the Box are thoroughly pragmatic. I don't think they'd waste resources or time on decoys, so I don't believe they'd do anything to you. Really, they’re pissed at me and my friends.”

  “I guess that makes sense. Everything I've heard about the Box says they're cold fish.

  “Exactly. Your documents will be legit. And sure, I expect the Box to be pissed off that they got duped. But they’re too smart to blow their whole operation by venting at you. If they started going after random humans they’d be kicked out of the solar system and wouldn’t be able to find what they’re after.”

  “And what are they after?”

  “Me. And my friends.”

  Lilly tapped a finger against her chin. “And you're covering all expenses? No shuttle attendant is going to demand any extra fees?”

  “The full ride. Transportation costs, unlimited onboard food and drink. I'll even throw in some cash so you have a little walking around money when you get to Earth. Do we have a deal?”

  “Okay. Let’s do it. I’ll need to call my brother and sister, get them packing. They won't have much, just a single bag each.”

  “That's fine. As soon as they're ready, have them come to the bar. The… gentleman handling the arrangements will have somebody meet you here to get things rolling.”