Thompson warned Perseus about folks who kept pigs, but it didn’t deter him any.
The two shadows moved in the dark with their weapons un-holstered. Agent Perseus had promised Cheze that he had qualified shooting left-handed. This wasn’t exactly true, though.
When they reached the barn, a dog started barking somewhere far away and Perseus could hear the pigs wake and whisper snorts to each other. Despite this, the night was very calm. Thompson made a soft bird call and indicated the barn door. It made sense to clear this building first, before checking the house. There was a massive piece of farm equipment between them and the barn door. They were rounding the monolith when a sound caused Perseus to gaze upward.
Both men gasped to see three adult bodies hanging from the top of the machine; the Shiherlis’s, Agent Perseus presumed. At least they knew they were in the right place.
The Medusa Killer had seventeen victims. This made an even twenty.
The silence was screaming in Perseus’s ear as they tiptoed around the inside of the barn in the dark. The silhouettes of sharpened tools hanging from the walls were almost too menacing to bear, but aside from an old barn cat, which darted away from them, there was nothing moving inside.
They were slowly maneuvering toward the exit when something clapped Perseus on the skull and he was gone again.
The water of the Wartten Hole up close was silent and cool. As Perseus swam up through the diffused moonlight, he noticed the shapes of bodies floating all around him at various depths. There were dozens of them. Twenty victims? Why bother to keep counting? How could one woman be the author of all this?
Clearly she’d hit him and drug him into the water. Pretty impressive for a skinny Southern girl. Perseus kicked furiously, but the arm in the sling was not ideal for swimming. It helped motivate him that Thompson was still out there somewhere.
The surface still seemed light years away when the muffled sound of a gunshot rag out and Cheze Thompson fell into the deadly pool.
With his lungs screaming, Perseus reached out to grab the officer, but his fingertips never found purchase and he knew he would die if he didn’t breathe soon.
He let Thompson drift past him and reached the surface not a moment too soon.
He pulled himself out of the wet and struggled to his feet, but she had been waiting. She flew out and elbowed him in the ribs, sending him off kilter. She was like a bat in the blackness, flying in and out of view. She hit him again, this time kicking him painfully in the shin.
The third time her apparition appeared, however, Medusa threw a punch and he caught it in the air, squeezing the bony hand until it was forced to drop the sap it had struck his head with earlier. Though it hurt like hell, Perseus bull rushed the woman, slamming her chest with his injured shoulder.
When she fell backward, something gleaming flew from off her person and landed in the grass at Perseus’ feet. It shined like a sword. It was his firearm and though Medusa was already rising like a cobra, his left hand clasped it and he squeezed. The gun was smoking when she fell.
The migraine returned, stronger than before. It was like he could hear pigs squealing and that shot ringing and Medusa laughing, but it was all coming from the inside of his skull. It took several seconds to subside. When it did, Agent Perseus realized he had been clutching his ear.
He let go and was looking at the body. There was something off about the woman lying on the grass. Her right eye, was it glass?
The woman at Minerva’s Diner hadn’t had irregular eyes…
Perseus was about to venture closer when he felt something brush against his ankle. He danced around, ready to shoot again, when he found Officer Thompson crawling out of the Wartten Hole, very much alive.
Perseus helped Cheze to his feet and the pair examined Thompson’s wound. The bullet had missed his lung by a healthy margin. “She was a shit shot,” Cheze said, smiling.
“Glass eye,” Perseus explained.
“God bless Medusa’s glass eye,” said Cheze. “You alright?” he asked.
“It’s over,” said Perseus.
“Let’s go back to the squad car,” Cheze suggested.
“You go,” said Perseus. “Get everyone out here. I’ll be fine.”
“Ten-four,” said Cheze, darting away toward the barn in a jog.
Perseus decided to sit down in the grass. A breeze flirted by. It was like a woman’s fingers smoothing across his skin. But then it wasn’t just like a woman’s touch, it was a woman’s touch, Medusa’s touch. She embraced him from behind. She slinked around him like an eel and she kissed him long and deep.
When Medusa pulled away he thought of what Cheze had uncovered back at the station. Two orphan girls, one called Sarah Jane, one called E. Curst. Euryale. Medusa’s sister was called Euryale. They were cursed by the goddess Athena to become monsters.
Agent Perseus examined Medusa’s two perfect eyes as he breathed his last. It was Euryale who he’d shot, Euryale, who was her twin sister.
Her kiss was poison and now it was Perseus who was snakebit.
Perseus felt his body turn to stone and then nothing.
THE END
ONE NIGHT AT LAST CALL by Scott Roche
Iowa is a place, it turns out. Or at least it was before the bombs fell from the sky during the Last Great War (a war that was neither the last, nor particularly great, and may not have in fact been a war per se). I could see where it used to be from my window high above the Big Blue Marble. Well, to be honest, it’s the place scholars think it was. Large chunks of the North American continent no longer exist. I closed the history book (not a book and I called the quality of history in question) and looked back out at the expanse below. “People never learn from their mistakes.”
“Pardon?” Annabelle asked the question from her station behind the bar. She looked like a lovely girl, from the waist up. From there down, she was a mass of wheels, gears, and circuitry.
I looked at the AI bartender. “Just pontificating on the history of mankind, such as it is. Unlike ‘bots and ‘droids, we stink at learning from what has come before. That’s the reason why this place needs a bouncer.” As the self-described bouncer, or as we were known on most Alliance space stations Sentient Attitude Readjustment Officers, it was my job to make sure no one caused a ruckus in The Last Call. It was the last bar in orbit around my planet of origin. As such it was really the last bar “on” Earth, so long as you allowed the word “on” to include near Earth orbit. It inter-galactic terms, it was close enough for horseshoes and hyperbombs.
She smiled. “Well we won’t need you much longer.”
“True enough. What’s the countdown 'til station implosion?” In spite of Saint Kane’s Fourth Rule, one of the many rules that scrolled around the bar’s walls, there was such a thing as a last call in this ironically named bar.
She displayed the timer across her voluptuous, bare breasts. “Ten minutes, thirty-five seconds, and some change. You’d best be on your way soon, Jonesy”
I sighed. She was right. There wasn’t much left for me to do. Only one sentient still drank, a Conjoined Marriage Unit only counted as one person for tax and IQ purposes, and they weren’t even arguing with each other.
“I may stay here.”
“Why on Earth would you do that, Jonesy?” Annabelle cocked her pretty little head. I could almost hear the gears work from where I stood.
“I’m not sure there’s much to do for an old man like me.” I scratched at my graying beard. “Did you know I’ll be two hundred and four next month?”
Her eyes rolled upwards and back down. “Two hundred-five, according to our records.”
I shrugged and smiled. “Must have dropped a year somewhere. Regardless, two-hundred’s a lot more than the four score and ten man was promised. I think we’ve forgotten how to give up.” I sat down at the bar and motioned for a drink.
She poured me a soda water and slid it over.
I frowned at the sparkling clear liquid. “None of the hard
stuff?”
“You’re still on duty.” She gestured to my long sleeved tunic.
I looked down. ‘Leave your troubles at the door’ scrolled across my own chest. It indicated I was, in fact, still on duty. I harrumphed and drank the soda.
“I want a drink and if it’s not on the house I’ll crack the planet in half.” The voice, somewhere between a primal scream and the sound made by tectonic plates, sent what few hairs I still had on my head into a fully upright and locked position.
I pushed back from the bar and turned as I did. The man that stood there was only a speck more human than Annabelle, though she had more humanity. There were fleshy bits here and there, but he was mostly augments made out of steel and plastic. "A 'roid miner? What the fresh hells are you doing this close to Earth, pilgrim?"
The question threw him off his stride. He took a few seconds to think through the query. The miners spent most of their cash on physical augments to the detriment of their brain power. "I'm on vacation."
I raised an eyebrow. "To get the scratch to come all the way here means you had a good strike. You can afford your own drink." I pointed to the Saint's fifth rule as it passed us on the wall, "No freebies."
He frowned and took a few steps towards me. He was stronger, but speed wasn't important in the asteroids. "I warned you."
"Yeah, yeah, crack the planet in half? Not bloody likely." I kept the same distance between us. "Better make your order now. It's last call here and that's a forever thing. You stay much longer," I thumbed at Annabelle's chest, "and you'll be dust in the solar wind."
He looked from me to the ample offering and the countdown timer displayed thereon. "Huh? This place don't close."
I shrugged. "This one's out of our hands. You order your drink. You drink it. And you shove off."
I could almost see the literal gears churning behind his eyes. "This place going down? Guess it don't matter if I break something then." He grabbed a nearby chair and wrenched it free of the deck plates. That wasn't easy. He then threw it in my direction.
I may be on the low side of the Big Deuce, but I'm fast. A bouncer has to be. I swept the chair out of the air, swiveled my body in such a way as to keep the momentum, and redirected the chair at him. It wasn't a heavy thing, so it bounced off of his chest. I was right behind it, though and my shaped force gauntlets were already powered up. The same force field tech who guarded Hir Royal Majestrix's battle fortress wrapped my hands. Right before they made contact the field pushed outward explosively.
The miner's head snapped backwards and his body followed.
I landed lightly. "Now look here, pilgrim, we don't have all day for talks. When you get up..." The sentence remained unfinished as he came to his feet and plowed through me. I had misjudged his speed or his intelligence, or both. Thankfully the field wrapped my body right before impact. Hitting the wall still jarred me.
Big and ugly now stood at the bar. "I want my drink and I want it now."
The conjoined couple tossed their drink back in a huff and got up to leave.
Annabelle smiled. "You want a drink now?"
His answer was a hard thump on the bar top.
Her erect nipples irised open slightly. The water jets hit him with quite a bit of force. She used them to hose down the bar during any down time. She could also slice a lemon paper thin. She must not have had it set on Water Knife. Looked more like a Boob-nami.
He went flying back like he'd been hit with a fire hose. By that time I was already behind him and down on all fours. The back of his legs hit me and he went ass over fiddlesticks. The thud would have cracked anything other than the durasteel hull plate and apparently his head.
He groaned and worked his way to his feet. "I. WANTED. BOURBON."
I punched him three times in the place that approximated his windpipe. "You can't have any."
He clutched his armored throat. Most 'roid miners don't need to breathe, but they forget that the minute they hit atmo. Our brains are funny things and it’s hard to give up the habit of millions of years.
"Now, are you going to settle down and leave the station like a good sentient, or do we have to get nasty?"
He shook his head. Then he thought a minute. Then he nodded.
I let him think a minute and smiled when he shrugged. "Get out of here and get on your ship. You have about four and a half minutes."
He ran out, still clutching his throat.
I turned my head one way, then the other, enjoying the crackle of vertebrae. "I am gonna miss beating the crap out of jackholes."
"We make a good team." I heard Annabelle's voice from behind me.
I turned and took a good look at her. She was a fun gal with a solid undercarriage. "We do at that."
"Let's get out of here."
"Don't you belong to the Last Stand? I assumed you were going down with the ship."
She scowled slightly. "I bought myself out years ago. I just enjoyed the company and the job."
I held out my arm for her to take it at the elbow. "Well I can't say I disagree. Let's blow this joint before it blows us."
We left work early. I didn't think that would hurt our reputations too much. I had my ship powered up and we were the last ones to leave the bay. The grunt 'bots would be atomized along with everything else. Someone would be along to vacuum up and recycle the debris. It wasn’t cost efficient, but the coruscating colors of the disintegration were mighty pretty.
I looked at my new co-pilot. "So, where to?"
She smiled at me and then looked out the viewport towards the array of stars. "I hear good things about that second star to the right."
I was always a sucker for a girl who appreciated the classics.
I was all set to plot a course and jump us into hyper-warp when the warning alarms went off on board my ship. She wasn't the most tricked out thing in the universe, light on weapons and heavy on engines and shielding. I also made sure I'd know when someone was about to jump on me. Given the speeds at which things move at out here, I'm really not sure how it can warn me, but it does.
I slip sidewise and the incoming ship flits past me. It was actually trying to ram me. I probably could have withstood the assault, but no reason to put my theory to the test. "Hold on Annabelle." I put in a series of maneuvers and set the computer to activate them. It was a better pilot than me.
After plotting a course I checked the sensor readings. I didn't have to look too deep or think too hard. It was our friend the miner. I opened up a communications link. "What in the name of Saint Kane are you doing?" I yelled as calmly as I could.
The deep gravelly voice boomed back. "I warned you."
This was the joker who threatened to crack the planet in half. There was actually a decent chance he was able to do just that. Our home world wasn't all that stable these days. The instability was the main reason why the space stations had all closed up shop. His doing it wouldn't hurt anyone, at least not right away. It would still be a damn shame though.
"So you wanted to be in the bar just then?"
Light static from the other end. "Of course not. I just wanted some free booze. Is that so wrong?"
"When someone has to pay for it to get it from corn to table, yes.” Not that it had been made from corn in centuries. “I don't work for free and neither does Annabelle. They don't sell the whiskey and we don't get paid. Surely even a sock brained monkey can figure that one out."
He brought his ship around to bear on us and opened fire with some sort of mass driver cannon, I was grateful for his choice of weapons. We were fast but not speed of light fast.
The computer altered course to compensate. It almost made it. I hate the word almost. It's never a good thing. "I almost lost my virginity." "You almost got away with it." Your paycheck is almost at the bank." Whatever its object you weren't likely to get all of it until the thing was ready for you,
The whole ship shuddered and threatened to throw us both into the pilot's workstation. I managed to catch myself on the railing
. "Computer, damage report." It presented me with my report on screen. I was glad that the voice was still disabled. The report didn't look too bad. The hyper engine would be out of alignment until I got it fixed. That wouldn't be cheap, but it was standard maintenance anyway. The real joke was that the shields had gone down. Whatever he threw at us next would hit and hit hard.
I heard an electronic protest from behind me. The ship's computer made that particular noise any time I asked it to do something it wasn't inclined to do. I turned to see Annabelle doing something rude and a little bit sexy to the console. All the lights flashed red and then green again.
She looked at me with a leer. "Shields are up, Captain. Let's teach that miner a thing or three about shooting at us."
I wheeled back around in my seat. Even with shields I didn't want us to take another hit. My fingers danced over the controls. I was no pilot but I knew my way around security systems in ships. The bully had gotten a little too close and his flight transponder was in range. I fired a data stream at him that could prove deadlier than any weapon. The poor thing didn't stand a chance.
"Hello, Jackass." My voice came from all around him. "You shot at us and my companion and I don't care for that. I have taken ownership of your vessel. You know it really does pay to install the maintenance patches you receive. In a timely fashion." I read through my sub-console that he'd tried to activate his cannon again. "Ah, ah, ah. No shooting at us."
I rifled through his ship's systems and found what I was looking for. I could imagine the thumps and thuds that he heard from behind the pilot's chair. There was a cloud of vapor from his back end and an object slid into view. I brought my ship around and within range. The tractor beams grabbed the box and brought it alongside and into my hold.
"You brought part of your precious metals with you, yes?"
I saw him nod into the camera that had his face in view. I saw the realization dawn on the ugly mug. Then I saw him mouth words at me. I was grateful I had left the sound turned off.
9 Tales From Elsewhere 9 Page 10
