by N M Tatum
That debate didn’t last long.
Sam, at the head of the pack, slid to a halt and threw out her arms to signal the others to stop. They all did, wondering why, but only for a moment. The reason became obvious. The floor beneath them creaked and groaned. Looking down, they could see the outline of a circle gnawed in the floor. They stood directly in the center.
“Are you shitting me?” Joel said.
“Nobody move,” Sam said. “The integrity of the floor is compromised. A shift in our weight could make it give way, and we’ll fall an incredible distance to our deaths.”
“They laid a goddamn pit trap,” Joel said. “I fucking hate super rats. Even more than that giant bug that swallowed us.”
Cody studied the floor and the area around them. Slowly, he reached forward and unzipped Sam’s pack. “I’m taking your rope. If we can tie it to one of the pipes on the ceiling, maybe we can avoid the splattery death.”
He pulled out the rope, a strong, tensile climbing rope. He eyed a pipe overhead, a thick one he thought would support their weight. Then he swung and tossed the rope. And missed.
“Why is Cody throwing the rope?” Joel said. “He’s the shortest and least athletic, and I once saw him throw a baseball into his own foot.”
“There was a bee on it!”
“It was the Little League championships! You deal with the bee!”
Sam snapped at them. “You seriously want to argue about this now?”
They shut up, frozen solid by the force in her voice.
She reached over her shoulder. “Give me the rope.”
Cody wound up the rope from the middle until he regained the end and then placed it in her hand. She swung the rope once before throwing it.
The end looped over the pipe like she was threading a needle. Sam leaned forward as far as she could without shifting her weight too much—the ends of her fingers just barely grazed the dangling rope. She wiggled them and managed to wrap her middle finger around the rope. She quickly tied off the rope.
Sam looped the rope around her waist then passed it back to Cody. The floor creaked beneath them, like the thawing surface of a frozen lake. Cody looped the rope around himself and passed it on. Joel did the same.
Reggie reached for it.
But he didn’t have time to grab it.
Rats appeared in the pipes overhead, their beady little eyes looking like fires blooming in the deep dark of space. The Notches froze. Time seemed to stop as they held their breath, waiting for something to happen, hoping nothing would.
If the team had reason to doubt the vindictiveness of these super rats, what the creatures did next cemented their view. Several rats climbed down out of the darkness. In their mouths, they clutched screws, bolts; one of them had what looked like a peanut butter sandwich. For a moment, the rats seemed like they were bringing the team gifts.
Until they dropped them on the fragile floor beneath the team’s feet.
The Notches sucked in a collective breath, hoping that maybe the added air in their lungs would keep them afloat. It didn’t. The floor crumbled, and they were weightless for half a second before plummeting into the unknown.
Sam didn’t know how long they fell. It was a chaotic mess of screaming and spinning and ballroom music. She held firm to the rope, bracing herself for the moment the rope snapped taut and cinched around her waist, and the collective weight of Joel, Cody, and Reggie dangled from her.
Well, not Reggie. Not unless Joel could grab him.
He stretched until his shoulder screamed and threatened to pop out of its socket. The floor rushed up to greet them. With one final reach, Joel grabbed Reggie’s outstretched hand.
And then the rope snapped taut. Reggie pulled on Joel’s hand, who pulled on Cody, who pulled on Sam, like a human slinky. Sam screamed out in pain as the force threatened to tear her in half.
Their downward momentum halted only for a second. Joel’s shoulder popped and tore and exploded. Reggie slipped out of his grasp and plummeted toward the floor, which, thankfully, was only ten feet below after their initial descent. Joel watched his friend fall, but was quickly and unfortunately closing the gap between them.
The pipe to which their rope was tied had broken. Joel, Cody, and Sam, still tied to each other, fell. Reggie froze in fear, watching several hundred pounds of his friends rocket toward him. He snapped free of it just in time to roll to the side. Joel, Cody, and Sam fell in a pile.
Reggie heard screaming through the blood pounding in his ears and the clicking of his jaw as he opened and closed it to see if he still could. He looked to the team for the source of it, but they were rolling and moaning. Joel wasn’t moving at all.
He scanned the room they fell into, taking in the stark change to the dark, musty tunnel they’d been crawling through. He could see his reflection in the hardwood floor. The soft light from the chandeliers cast everything in a warm hue. Gowns twirled in a glittering frenzy.
The source of the screaming stood at the edge of the floor, her face a pale white: Miss Millicent Musgraves.
Chapter Six
“Are we dead?” Joel rolled onto his side, through the screaming pain in his shoulder. “Is this heaven?” He saw Millie marching toward them. “That can’t be an angel.”
Sam got to her knees, her head spinning. Her vision blinked in and out, like someone was switching off the lights. She staggered to her feet. “That is no angel.”
Millie’s face turned from pale white to beet red the closer she got to the Notches. Sam expected a burst of pure anger to come flying out of Millie’s mouth when she opened it, but only got a stifled whisper-scream. “What in the flip-flappin’ crappity hell are you doing here? What part of discretion did you not understand?”
Reggie pulled himself up by Sam’s arm, which nearly resulted in them both falling back down.
“Ma’am, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but your rodent problem may be a bit more complicated than was originally anticipated,” he told the woman.
“What the heckity heck does that mean?”
“Super rats,” Joel said, still lying on his back. Sam was relieved to see that he wasn’t dead. “Means you got super rats.”
Millie stared like she had just been told the meaning of life, and her brain couldn’t comprehend it. She short-circuited. “I’m not even going to pretend to know what that means. Can you fix it?”
“Discreetly?” Reggie asked.
“At all,” Millie snapped. “We’re well beyond discretion at this point.”
Reggie considered everything they’d seen of the rats so far, and nothing suggested this was going to be easy. Their present circumstances were proof of that. He didn’t want to lie, but he also wanted to instill some confidence in the abilities of Intergalactic Pest Control.
“Ma’am, I assure you—”
“Don’t ‘assure’ me,” Millie said. “You already assured me, and that assurance apparently wasn’t worth a damn. My guests are staring. I am absolutely embarrassed and will soon be the laughing stock of the social scene. I’ll never host another gala again. I’ll be ruined. I may as well walk out the airlock.”
Sam’s hand smacked across Millie’s face faster than Reggie’s eye could follow, but he heard the impact. His blood turned to ice.
Millie was in complete shock, as if the caterers had served pigs in a blanket instead of the agreed upon charcuterie.
Sam stepped closer, so she and Millie were only a breath apart. “Get your shit together. Your guests are staring at us right now. They will be staring at you if you spiral out of control.”
Millie nodded. The smack must have knocked some sense into her.
“There are hundreds of highly intelligent rats scuttling around above our heads right now, and they have an open door down to us. Get your guests someplace safe. Do you know where you can take them?”
Millie nodded, her voice still struggling to work. “There’s an auditorium on the upper deck.”
“Good,” Sam said
. “Go. Now.”
It was like a switch flipped inside Millie’s brain. Her face morphed into a pleasant hostess smile, and her voice became graceful yet commanding. She addressed the crowd, told them everything was okay, and directed them to the auditorium for the after-dinner entertainment.
The ballroom cleared out in a surprisingly efficient fashion. Though, if there was one thing at which rich people excelled, it was self-preservation.
Soon, it was just the Notches.
“Everyone still able to fight?” Reggie said.
Joel’s shoulder was probably dislocated. After a shot of medical nanites, he would hardly notice, but it would be a real bitch in the morning. Sam likely had a concussion. Cody was bruised all over. One of Reggie’s ribs was broken.
They all dosed themselves and were in fighting shape again. Though they’d all need a little vacation afterward.
“Ideas?” Reggie asked after they were all medicated.
They all looked up at the hole through which they’d just crashed.
“I vote we drop through the ceiling in the auditorium,” Joel said. “Crashing Millipede’s party was worth the dislocation.”
“Any ideas that aren’t dumb?” Sam asked.
“Follow-up idea,” Joel said. “We lock these doors,” he pointed around the ballroom, “then we flush the rats through that hole and murder them hard.”
“I like the simplicity,” Cody said. “But how do we flush them out? I’m not hardwired into the system anymore, and without wireless comms, I can’t hack in.”
A concerning smile spread across Joel’s face. “I know a guy.”
Joel entered Ragnarok like a king returning from a victorious battle. Odd, considering he and his army were on the verge of defeat. He should have been marching back with his head hung low, or not returning at all, but lying dead on the battlefield beside his soldiers.
The circumstances that led him to return to the ship were less informative of his mood than who he was going to see.
Peppy ran down the landing platform like there was a pile of bacon on the other end. He leapt from twenty meters away and came down nearly on top of Joel. Joel had been working with him on that, ever since Peppy almost killed him after returning from three days off-ship.
Joel rubbed Peppy’s ears and scratched under his chin. Soon, Peppy was sitting obediently, eyes and ears attentive and expectant.
“That’s a good boy,” Joel said. “I know you’ve been cooped up on the ship for a while. We haven’t been able to get you out and about as much as you deserve. But I’ve got good news. We’ve got a job for you.”
Peppy’s tongue fell out of the side of his mouth as his tail wagged fast enough to take a hand off. They raced back toward their initial starting point for the job—level two. Though large, Peppy stood shorter than any of the Notches, so he could move quickly through the area without fear of smacking his head. Joel had his pistols drawn and ready, but they didn’t encounter any rats on their way to the central hub.
Once there, Joel crouched next to Peppy and looked him in the eye. “All right, pal, this is it. Those tunnels there.” He pointed to each of the openings. “You run through each of those, killing as many rats as you can. Just go to town. Good?” He held Peppy by each side of his face, squishing the sides up so the hair and skin nearly covered his eyes.
He pressed his forehead to Peppy’s. “I’ll see you at the end. Be safe.”
Peppy pressed back. A wave of heat rushed through Joel. It pooled around his heart and soaked the organ like it was floating in a hot tub.
Then Joel sprinted away, pretending the tears in his eyes were his allergies acting up. He moved fast, hoping the super rats wouldn’t sense this moment of weakness (being alone, not his fake allergies) and pounce. He was back in the ballroom a minute later, having encountered no resistance.
The rats were not only crafty, but they were strategic. They avoided open conflict, instead preferring to attack with stealth and subterfuge.
Reggie, Cody, and Sam wheeled around and trained their weapons on him when he entered the ballroom. He slid to a halt on the shiny floor, his arms up in self-defense. “Whoa, it’s me. Chill.”
“Everything good?” Sam asked.
“The General is on it,” Joel said. “He should be driving some super rats our way as we speak.” He wouldn’t say aloud how nervous he was about leaving Peppy alone with those tiny monsters. They had taken out the entire team with a few tricks and manipulations, but it was clear that they were physically dangerous as well. They dropped the team in that alcove without being spotted.
Joel assured himself that Peppy could handle it. He was fast. Strong. The best damn mutant dog thing a man has ever had.
“Then we should take up our positions,” Reggie said.
The Notches separated and formed a circle around the section of floor just below the hole in the ceiling, standing ten meters back. Joel had lined the killzone with mines and remote grenades. They’d also spread out some more kill traps, not that they’d helped much before, but maybe they’d get lucky. Finally, he switched the settings on his semiautomatic blaster to short bursts to limit the chance of friendly fire.
All in all, it was a glorious circle of death. Potential death. They still needed some rats.
Sam tapped her foot, signaling her impatience. “Where’s that mutt?”
“Don’t call him a mutt,” Joel snapped back. “He’s a purebred…something. And he’s coming. Just give him some time.”
“We don’t have time,” Sam said. “And the longer Peppy spends up there, the greater the chance that he gets taken out by the super rats.”
“Don’t say that,” Joel said. His jaw tightened.
“It’s their turf,” Sam continued. “And we’ve seen how good they are at defending their turf. This was meant to be a shock and awe maneuver. So far, no shock and certainly no awe.”
The anger pulsing in Joel’s chest spread through the rest of him. It clouded his mind enough to think that he could step up to Sam. He left his post and marched toward her.
“Hey, I don’t know what your deal is, but lay off. Peppy has done nothing but help since he joined.”
“And poop in my shoes,” Cody added. “Don’t forget about that. I never will.”
Joel threw up his arms. “Fine, there’s been some growing pains.” He jabbed a finger at Sam. “But there’s been some with you, too.”
Sam’s shoulders dropped, and her hand tightened around the handle of her sword. “Are you comparing me to a dog?”
Reggie carefully navigated the figurative and literal minefield to stand between Sam and Joel. “Everyone, chill. This escalated real fast. We’re in the middle of a job right now. Can we stow the personal beef? I didn’t even know there was personal beef.”
“Me neither,” Joel said. “Ask her.”
A growl built in Sam’s chest and came out as a gravelly mumble. “I don’t like dogs.”
Joel shook his head. “Seriously? That’s why you’re picking a fight with me right now?”
Cody tried to interject. “Guys?”
Reggie put a hand on both Joel and Sam. He read once that establishing physical contact can help ease conflict. The look Sam shot him proved that wasn’t always the case. He pulled his hand away.
“Feels like we’ve had a breakthrough. Maybe we can finish this later?” he asked.
“Guys!” Cody interjected more forcefully.
They all looked to him, about to yell at him to shut his face, when they noticed that his face had lost its color.
“They’re coming,” Cody said, looking up at the hole in the ceiling.
Without being hardwired into Malibu’s systems and unable to wirelessly hack in, he could rely only on his ears. Tilted up, he could make out the rumble of thousands of nasty rat feet charging their way.
Joel and Sam ran back to their positions. Reggie was left in a more precarious situation. He couldn’t run without risk of setting off the mines. He carefully w
alked through the maze of explosives, stepping over traps and mines and hoping he didn’t blow himself up. He was halfway out of the killzone when the first rats dropped through the ceiling. Unfortunately, that meant he was also halfway in the killzone.
Joel blasted the rats as they landed. Cody used his scatterblaster to shoot them as they fell. Sam sliced the ones that escaped the perimeter.
The rats, though frantic, were still smart. They avoided the mines, but as more rats fell, the less space they had to maneuver. And they were now pouring out like someone had turned on the faucet. The rat swarm pulsed outward. They scrambled over each other. They couldn’t avoid it. One of them tripped the first mine.
“Jump!” they all yelled to Reggie.
He planted both feet on the floor and launched himself as far as he could. The flames tickled the bottom of his feet and licked the backs of his legs. The force of the blast propelled him several meters farther than he could have traveled on his own, straight into one of several ornate columns scattered about the ballroom.
He dropped with a thud, and the world went dark. When light returned, he had no idea how long he’d been out. He didn’t even fully understand where he was. A thick haze covered the room. The blaster fire sounded like it was passing through Jell-O before reaching him.
He climbed to his feet and used the pillar to steady himself. As his vision cleared, he saw that the ballroom had descended into chaos. Their carefully planned killzone was gone. Though, at least, it did appear to have successfully killed a whole bunch of rats.
“Wouldn’t be a job if we didn’t blow something up,” Joel said as he blasted a rat into a red smear on the floor.
“The killzone is breached,” Sam said. “That explosion set off all the charges at once.”
Joel sucked in a breath. “I admit, that was probably my bad. The charges were set too close together. Live and learn, am I right?”
Sam couldn’t waste the time to scowl at him. She rolled forward and sliced five rats in half with one swing of her sword. “We need to secure the room. Keep the rats trapped in here. If they get out, we’ll have to round them up all over again.”
