Anger Management

by Lawrence M Schoen

  He proceeded to gate seven. Two low piles of hardware had been stacked alongside the entrance. Roombas. Several of Patel's people had already come through and dropped off their wares. None had been concerned about possible theft. Everyone knew who owned gate seven.

  The crime boss applied himself to the gate's security panel and entered a code, gaining access. The large airlock was empty. Doug hadn't arrived yet but was surely on his way. Al carried the devices within. He was still short the expected fifteen units. One of the things he'd learned since arriving on Titan was to have backups. And yet, he no longer had thirteen Box extensions standing guard at the spaceport's entry points. Perhaps more of the cleaning devices would arrive, or he'd simply have to make do. Backup units or no, he would go forward.

  While he waited, Al slipped into a pressure suit he'd had crafted to accommodate his size and then proceeded to review the programming controls for the cleaning devices. As promised, there were several different makes. All held full batteries and used similar interfaces. He had mastered the particulars of two types and was well into the third when an alarm sounded and warning lights flashed all around him. Moments later, equipment in the walls sucked the atmosphere out of the room and then just as quickly replaced it with the toxic mix from the moon's surface. Only then did the outer gate open to allow an all-terrain vehicle to roll in. It stopped directly in front of the crime boss.

  Doug had arrived.

  The outer door closed. The airlock expelled the Titanian atmosphere with its extra levels of methane and cyanide, replacing it with the terrestrial blend that had been present when Al had entered. The lights stopped flashing. The vehicle opened revealing a doughy-looking man in stained coveralls. A name tag stitched on the garment's left breast bore the name 'Doug'. He held a crate in his arms and brought it forward.

  “Any problem obtaining the thermite?” asked Al.

  “No sir, nor the fixative. I've got it all right here. I can have the charges good to go as soon as you show me what you want to have trigger them.”

  Al held out one of the cleaning devices. Doug cocked an eyebrow.

  “A Roomba?”

  “Does everyone know about these but me? Never mind, can you do it?”

  “Set the Roomba to trigger a charge? Sure. Easy peasy.”

  “Excellent. At present you have more thermite than I have devices. More may be coming, or not. For now, please begin with what we have.

  Doug set the crate down and took the Roomba from Al. He settled on the floor of the airlock and pulled a multi-tool from a pocket of his overalls and got to work.

  Fifteen minutes later, the inner airlock door of commercial transit gate seven opened and Alhiz’khlo’tam emerged into the cul de sac. He'd checked in with Clara that the eight Box extensions positioned near entry points hadn't moved, and from his position his eyes confirmed the three nearest, two in the arc of gates and a third that had confronted him a short distance further on the main thoroughfare of the spaceport.

  Impossible. Impossible. Impossible.

  He put a smile on his face, straightened his clothing, and strode forward, leaving the open airlock of gate seven behind him. His route took him between the two nearest avatars and he stopped when going any further would have meant he could only keep one of them in his vision at a time. There were plenty of people around. The other commercial transit gates enjoyed constant usage and even now several were open and workers were unloading cargo from transports parked within while others lay empty as pallets of outbound merchandise and supplies were stacked against the walls, awaiting the arrival of a vehicle to haul them to the warehouse district or some remote building on the moon's surface.

  Al waved to them all. He bowed. When he spoke, it was with the strong voice of a man used to being heard, giving orders and being obeyed. He didn't know what he would say, only that he had to begin.

  Impossible. Impossible. Impossible.

  “Citizens of Titan! The universe has changed. It happened today. You may not have noticed it — I myself hadn't noticed it at first — but the change was there all the same. Like most monumental changes, it was a small thing, but the significance of it rippled outward throughout the universe, redefining reality.”

  All around him people had stopped to stare. Everyone who had business at this end of the spaceport knew which commercial gates belonged to the crime bosses, even if they had no idea who the bosses were or what they looked like. A popular rumor was that one of them was a xenon. And here was an ebony giant who had emerged from one of the privileged gates. It didn't take a rocket scientist to work out who he must be. They stopped whatever they were doing and paused to listen.

  Doos didn't know about crime bosses. Such things were beneath its concern. It did register that the xenon it had questioned, had through the use of oratory, caused a break in the orderly work flow of many humans. Its two closest extensions rotated their torsos to orient their full sensor arrays on him and scan for additional anomalies.

  Al noticed, still smiling, and actually took a moment to point at both avatars.

  “So what is this change? How has reality been redefined? Believe me when I say, this is not a rhetorical question. I will tell you the answer. It's simple, quite simple in fact.”

  Impossible. Impossible. Impossible.

  Like a man standing at the open edge of a spacecraft's airlock gazing at the oblivion beyond, he paused, but only for a moment. He'd already committed himself.

  “Today the impossible became possible. That which could never occur, has happened. And not just once. Once might be a fluke, an aberration. But repetition, replication, that makes it real. I've seen it with my own eyes. And having seen it, well, how could I not attempt to achieve the thing myself?”

  He slipped a hand into a pants pocket, long fingers finding a small control device Doug had given him. His gaze drifted from one position to another to a third, confirming that three of the programmable cleaning devices had indeed slipped out from the open airlock of gate seven and by roundabout routes found their way to the three Box, slipped into the space between their pairs of treads, and parked themselves directly under their respective torsos.

  “And just as I have witnessed this thing firsthand, now you shall too. Behold! The impossible made possible!”

  A touch of the control triggered three shaped thermite charges, sending gouts of four thousand degree flame into each Doos avatar, burning well up into them, melting core systems and killing them in an instant.

  Despite the focus of the thermite, there was some spillover. The Roombas themselves were reduced to slag. As waves of heat radiated outward from the three explosions people screamed and ran, some into open gates, others deeper into the spaceport itself. In less than a minute, Al stood there alone.

  For a while he just soaked it in, still disbelieving. He'd raised a hand to the very creature that had ended everything that had ever held meaning to him. More, he had destroyed them in turn.

  “Did you see, Doug? The impossible made possible.”

  Doug had emerged from gate seven, carefully holding a box with several more modified Roombas. “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. Put in a call. Have someone come and get these extensions. There may be serviceable components left. Let nothing go to waste. And then, follow me. We'll stop at customs next. There are two more Box awaiting me there, and three more beyond. I've work still to do.”

  He walked off without waiting for a reply and wondered if Cooper felt this way, empowered and invincible, completely in charge of his own destiny.

  Chapter 21

  Amidst the chaos at the passenger terminal, Dyrk was in control and in the zone.

  “Game on Titan, game on.” His body was tight, tense with anticipation. The world was more focused. It was go-time.

  He cracked his neck dramatically.

  The action hero rolled out from behind the column Coop had been using as a shield. Dyrk appreciated shields. He understood the utility of them, but he didn’t like them. T
hey slowed down the action. They were, at best, a regrettable necessity.

  I didn’t realize you had a philosophy about shields.

  «Me either.»

  Allow me to offer another way to think about them.

  «Be my guest.»

  The action stops when you’re dead.

  «Ohhhh…»

  Now you get it. Get back to work.

  Dyrk launched himself into a roll that brought him up behind one of the cops vainly trying to take on the Box while carefully maintaining position just beyond range of their Fear gun. The man was distracted, his back to Dyrk as he fired ineffectively at the nearest Doos avatar. Dyrk dealt a single, swift blow to the man’s neck and he crumpled at his feet.

  It was the matter of only a moment to rifle through the unconscious man's gear and come up with an energy pistol and two backup power packs. After all, it wasn't like they were going to do the cop any good. He took off and darted to his next position before the police officer’s comrades realized Dyrk wasn’t exactly on their side. He wasn’t against them per se, but he wasn’t exactly an ally. Allies didn't leave you unconscious and unarmed.

  Dyrk came out from behind cover — a little more carefully this time — and raised the liberated pistol to fire at the Doos. One of the Box had just crossed his line of sight, its back to him as it fixed its attention on the police. Dyrk had a perfect view of its profile.

  He set the pistol aside and withdrew his modified stun baton, then rummaged in a pocket until he came up with the enhancer cap he'd taken from the security guard earlier that day. It snapped into place but he kept the pistol close at hand, just in case. The frequency and modulation of the baton had been precisely set, and when applied directly to the correct spot could incapacitate a Box. But that was no guarantee that the discharge produced by the cap would work, or that the modification worked across distance, or even that Doos's extensions had the same design flaw that had let him take down three other avatar configurations earlier in the week. Still, it was worth a shot. Literally.

  He took aim just above where the Box's hip would have been if it had a more humanoid shape. A bolt of electrical energy shot out of the baton and struck home. The avatar jerked and spasmed, then it went still.

  Thank god that worked. That makes things a bit easier.

  Dyrk didn’t reply. He was still in the zone. He didn’t have time for distractions or celebration. Heroes didn’t stop to congratulate themselves during the action. There was a teenage girl and an alien… thingy that needed saving. This was the mission he'd been created for.

  Bullets and shrapnel flew around the room. But they didn’t touch Dyrk as he stalked through the smoke like an avenging angel.

  Didn’t we just talk about the benefits of shields and cover?

  «Ben?»

  Yes?

  «Hush. I’m working here.»

  If it wasn’t so self-defeating, I’d smack the hell out of you when I get my body back.

  Dyrk chuckled.

  On the far side of the Doos formation, Tycho had rallied. Her eyes didn’t show any sign of recognition. But her actions said she'd understood the message behind Coop’s announcement over the bullhorn.

  The young woman had risen like a pale wraith. She had a Doos weapon extended in each hand. Potato clung to her shoulder, its tongue unfurled and tasting the air. Her face showed no emotion as she stepped over a duffel bag and a mangled hard-shell guitar case. Death stalked from the muzzles of her weapons, capturing the nearest Doos before it could retreat. Tycho barely glanced in its direction as she alternated shots from her weapons, blasting the Doos in its tracks. Her shooting was instinctual. The slugs of molten metal weren't as effective at close range, but the momentum of her endless barrage was enough to lift the Box avatar off its treads and send it crashing to the floor. Tycho used the vulnerable moment to close with it, climb onto its torso, and double-tap the Box in the chest from close range.

  The avatar sputtered and died.

  Back near the police, Dyrk continued his whirling-dervish-of-destruction impersonation. He leapt atop the back of a bench and his toes danced along its rails. Ahead, a Doos turned its attention away from the police. It raised a pair of weapon limbs and sighted on him.

  The Doos fired.

  At the same time, Dyrk took another step and jumped straight up. His legs kicked out to the sides in a full split as his hands came together, grasping his pistol in a double-handed grip. He didn’t even aim. His weapon barked twice.

  By the time Dyrk’s feet hit the back of the bench again, the Doos had gone still. Two smoking holes in its carapace stood as testimony to the action hero's shooting prowess. And a trickle of smoke rose from the crotch of Dyrk’s pants.

  He craned his neck and looked down at his trousers. He gently poked a finger down there and was relieved to find nothing more than a superficial singe along the inseam.

  Dyrk. I cannot tell you how lucky you just got. If that…if that had…I can’t even say it. Just don’t do that again. You won’t have to worry about the Box. I’ll kill you myself. Are we clear?

  Dyrk was mortified. «Yes, sir. It won’t happen again.»

  See that it doesn’t.

  Dyrk sighed. He really did want to experience all the good stuff humanity had to offer. And he knew enough from the endless cut-aways and fades-to-black that defined him to know that he needed that piece of anatomy to fully enjoy it.

  He jumped off the bench and dropped to his knees. His pistol came up as he scanned the battlefield for his next target.

  Meanwhile, Tycho had fully emerged from her luggage-fort. She was honed-in on another Box. If the arrogant machine intelligence had had any understanding of humanity and its propensity for destruction, it would have chosen a different course of action. Instead, it extended its arms like an angry octopus and sped right at the young woman.

  Tycho didn’t care. Given her mindless rage she couldn't have concern about anything. She pulled the trigger on the weapon in her right hand. It clicked. She discarded it, just dropping it where she stood, and raised the weapon in her left hand.

  But the Doos seized the opportunity and was perhaps inspired by Tycho's action or maybe just thought better of blasting away for fear of injuring Potato. Instead it detached one of its limbs and launched it at her. The weapon slammed into Tycho’s left hand, shattering her wrist and sending her remaining firearm flying.

  Tycho didn’t blink. She simply bent over and extended her hands to the ground.

  The Box saw its chance and accelerated.

  Then Tycho stood up, wrenching a slab of marble from the battered terminal floor, her delicate hands gripping it tightly.

  She charged on her bare feet at the Doos.

  The Doos rushed toward her.

  Tycho leapt into the air. She extended the hunk of marble over her head and just before their momentum brought them crashing together, she swung her arms forward and drove the corner of the slab straight into the avatar’s chest where two pieces of its protective carapace joined.

  The sound was incredible, like a thunderclap in the desert. The Doos and Tycho crashed together and were subsequently flung apart by the kinetic force they had unleashed, the girl somehow holding on to the piece of flooring.

  The avatar tipped onto its side. But it quickly used its arms to arrest its fall. When it had regained an upright state, it turned its sensors to search for the young woman who had taken Potato prisoner.

  It found her two feet away. The marble slab still clutched between her bleeding fingers. The Doos tried to make sense of it.

  It never got the chance.

  A moment later, the marble slab rested amidst the shredded internal workings of the avatar’s abdomen, having been driven there by ninety savage pounds of humanity. For her part, Tycho only paused long enough to acquire new weapons from her opponent’s robotic corpse.

  When Tycho had struck the Doos with the marble slab, everything and everybody in the terminal had stopped. It was like God had hit the
pause button. Combat ceased. The wounded stopped screaming. Everybody just stared at the site of the titanic impact.

  Except Dyrk.

  He used the distraction to maneuver behind the Doos who had been projecting fear at the police. His arm extended and he jammed his modified stun baton into the Box’s hind-quarters. The machine jerked and slumped forward on its tracks just as he’d hoped it would.

  And just like that, the battle resumed.

  Not being shot at for a second was nice.

  «Was it?»

  Dyrk didn’t wait for a reply. He was halfway to Tycho and four Doos were still in action, two in front of him menacing the girl, and two behind him harassing the cops. No time for chit-chat. Plus, the swing in momentum and sudden cessation of the Fear gun had allowed the cops to regroup. They had started to advance. He had to move.

  So, that's what Dyrk did. He moved and spun and juked his way across the terminal-cum-arena.

  And then he tripped.

  He fell right over the prone body of a sleeping alien. Dyrk lay sprawled face-to-face with the xenon. All it did was snore.

  Wow, those sleep gas grenades are pretty impressive.

  «Ben, I have never noticed you have any trouble sleeping.»

  Dyrk pushed up just in time for a bullet to graze his back. He dropped back down and rolled to his right three times. Then he came up to a knee with his gun out.

  A pair of Box had zeroed in on him. Worse, they knew who he was.

  “Give up, Mr. Cooper. You are in violation of your contract.”

  Oh, you are fucking kidding me!

  In the next moment, Coop pushed his way back into control of his body, sputtering with rage.

  “You want to talk violation? Where's my signing bonus? Where's my blockbuster movie deal? Your people didn't enter into that contract in good faith. You want to mess with me about contracts? You've never been taken to task by a Hollywood lawyer. I'm going to tie you up with so many depositions, counter suits, and nuisance litigation that you'll need to manufacture more extensions just to keep track of the paperwork!”