Curse of the Full Mental Packet

by Jack Q McNeil

  “My worry is,” Schemiedan said, “what will stop the Rehd Shirts shooting the marshal and Long Barnacle once we kick in their door? Those guys are not known for playing fair.”

  “We don’t have to worry about that,” I said. “By now the marshal knows we’re coming, so she will have dislocated her thumb—”

  “Ew, that has to hurt.”

  “Slipped from her bonds and loosened the ties on her ankles. When the shooting starts, she will be ready to move.”

  “Good to know,” Schemiedan said. “So how do we get in without getting blasted to pieces?”

  “You and Doc take the taxi up, land on the roof at my signal and shoot your way in. Isamary, Daisy and I will make our own door.”

  “What will I do?” Isamary asked.

  “Stay here, cover our retreat,” I tried, for LB’s sake.

  “No.” Isamary decided. “I’m coming with you.”

  “What’s the signal?” Schemiedan asked.

  “You don’t need to ask,” Doc predicted. “When Chunglie makes a door, we’ll hear it.”

  I led the way along an alley, following the building we were using for cover. Isamary had questions.

  “Why are we making a door? I mean, there must be a fire door or something?”

  “Which the Rehd Shirts will have guards on. So we make our own door and shoot the guards in the back when they’re not looking.”

  “I thought battle would be more honourable, somehow.”

  “The winners make the rules, kid.” We arrived at another alley, I scanned for soldiers, traps or scanners, found none and trotted along. I didn’t like having a flat roof on either side of me, it was too easy for someone to hide from my scanners. Across from our cover warehouse was another warehouse. It was the same grey oblong block as all the rest, so I checked my internal map and satnav; lines and arrows displayed across my vision.

  “Can we get on with this?” Isamary said, shifting from foot to foot.

  “Give me a minute, I’m making sure we are shooting our way into the right warehouse.”

  “There are armed men on the roof,” Daisy pointed a claw. A head passed along the parapet.

  “Okay, we’ve got the right one,” I admitted. The wall crossed our road, creating a T junction, with a narrow alley going left and right. I peeked left, there were three warbots patrolling. Stubby, low to the ground and armed with duel anti-aircraft weapons. I peeked right, there were three warbots patrolling. I ducked back.

  “Someone liked symmetry. Right, the plan is... we go back and find another way in.”

  Shooting lit up the night. I jogged back a bit and raised my front half; the guys on the roof were pouring fire into the sky.

  “I wouldn’t like their ammunition bill,” I said.

  “They must have spotted the taxi,” Isamary said.

  “Daisy, drop those guys, Isamary follow me and shoot right, I’ll take the warbots on the left.”

  “Right. Is now a good time to mention I have never fired this thing?”

  “Just shoot and hope,” I drew all my weapons and stepped into the alley. The pistols could not penetrate the warbot’s armour, but I targeted their sensor clusters and fired.

  “My vision is impaired, I cannot see,” the nearest one declared. Killer war machines always tell you their problems, no one knows why.

  “That’s the plan,” I said, and shot it with Old Number Seven. A hole burst in its hull and tossed it backwards. The other two chewed holes in the walls with their weapons, complaining that they couldn’t see either. Isamary hit the walls, the sky and the ground. I dropped my two and spun. The three warbots had reversed the length of the alley and taken cover. I grabbed the boy and stepped back as they returned fire.

  “We are under attack! We are under attack!” they declared.

  “We know,” I shouted back.

  “I can’t believe that bunch of whingers replaced me,” Daisy said.

  “See that wall?” I grabbed Isamary and faced him the right way.

  “Yes?”

  “Shoot a hole in it and dive through.”

  “The warbots I missed will shoot me.”

  “No, because they will be shooting at me,” I said, poked Pistol Pete out and fired. I followed up with the flegmatic pistols.

  “My vision is damaged, I cannot see!” Came from the far end of the alley.

  “The survivors on the roof have retreated,” Daisy said. “My weapons will not damage warbots.”

  Isamary fired. His grandmother’s gun blew a thousand holes in the wall, but they did not join up.

  “Close enough,” Daisy said, and charged across the alley. The wall held, shots bounced off her armour then it gave and Daisy disappeared in a cloud of bits. Shots blew chunks out of the corner I was sheltering behind. I pulled my duckfoot pistol. It shoots five beams at once. None powerful enough to put down a warbot.

  “Ready? When I shoot, you run,” I shouted over the noise of masonry being turned into gravel. Isamary nodded. The boy looked pale for a Moordenaap. I fired and swished the beams around.

  “My vision is damaged, I cannot see.”

  “Go!” I shouted. Isamary ran, I lunged, raised Old Number Seven and fired. A turret blasted into the air. I lunged through the hole, tripped and my front segment fell over a body. My claws caught in fur. I waved my antennae- it wasn’t Isamary. My infrared vision showed a hole in the inner wall, I slipped through, keeping low.

  “Is that you, Chunglie,” Isamary hissed. He was crouched behind a desk waving his gun blindly. There was a locked door opposite the hole I’d entered. “I can hear someone moving but I can’t see a thing.”

  “Never tell people you are blind in a gunfight,” I said. “You’re not a warbot. Where’s Daisy?”

  “She said for me to wait here and she would clear a route out of here. We seem to be in the offices.”

  “What gave it away- the desk you’re hiding behind or the pencils stuck in your fur? With your deductive skills, you could be a detective.”

  “There’s no need for sarcasm, this is my first war.”

  “This is a light skirmish, kid,” I said, trying to tone down the sarcasm. I checked my weapons and found them to be good. “Let’s go find the marshal and LB.”

  I opened the door a crack and peeked out. The corridor beyond was dark and there were bodies on the floor. Well, bits of bodies. I wondered how many Rehd Shirts there were.

  “I wonder what happened to Doc and Schemiedan?” Isamary asked. “Do you think they’re okay?”

  “Probably, they’re not the kind of people to die off screen.”

  I scuttled to the end of the corridor, yanked open the door, peeked out and found four Rehd Shirts peeking back. The duckfoot pistol dropped them in one shot. I looked out on a large warehouse. There were three Starfighters parked along the far wall and pallets of boxes stacked in the middle.

  “Wonder where they got those,” I said. “No one’s built a Starfighter for centuries.”

  “Never mind that,” Isamary said. “Where’s my dad?”

  “Never mind that- duck!”

  The Rehd Shirts had spotted us and opened fire. I leapt on Isamary and carried him to the ground as Daisy returned fire. Neshers stood out in the open, guns held sideways, and easy targets for a warbot. But the Curran crept through the pallets, staying in cover.

  “Thanks, Chunglie, I can’t seem to get my head around this battle thing.”

  “Focus on staying alive, kid. Your dad would never forgive me if I got you killed.”

  Rehd Shirts ran at us from all directions. The Curran were bolting large calibre weapons to the floor. It wasn’t looking too hopeful. In slow motion, I reared up, targeted all my guns and cut loose. A fifty calibre hole appeared through Daisy. A blast burned away my favourite two limbs. Another holed my third segment.

  It looked like the rescue mission was over.

  CHAPTER 19

  Under the circumstances, the sound of the roof bursting and a large yello
w taxi falling to the floor was a relief. InyagoM crushed a machine gun nest and Doc and Schemiedan piled out, shooting.

  “I’ve got you,” Isamary yelled, grabbed my second segment and dragged me across the warehouse floor. I looked back. Daisy toppled as a third hole blew through her hull. A golden braid dropped to the floor in slow motion. Production values were that high.

  “I’m okay,” InyagoM declared. “Nothing a bucket load of cataloy can’t fix.”

  It burst into flames, Rehd Shirt bodies flew through the air. We reached another cluster of offices and Isamary beat in the door with his great grandmother’s gun. Probably the best use he’d made of it so far.

  “Why don’t they build fire proof machines?” Doc asked, piling in behind us. “I mean, we got flame resistant pillows and couches now, but shoot a couple holes in a car and boom! Up it goes.”

  The readouts on my cyber dashboard were flickering. The oxygen pump that pushed air through my body had stopped. I turned it off and then on again. Oxygen started flowing, I would live.

  “Can we focus on finding the marshal, people?” I said.

  “Look at that!” Isamary pointed. Schemiedan had drawn both swords and attacked. A graceful ballet of death ensued as he spun, slashed and leapt his way through a group of Rehd Shirts. I was jealous because I have fourteen left claws.

  “Be easier just to shoot those guys,” Doc opined.

  Isamary shoved his gun out the door and blasted away until the power pack was empty. The trigger clicked, and he leapt back into cover as the Rehd Shirts returned fire.

  “Congratulations, kid,” Doc said. “You’re the first person in history to shoot at a group of Rehd Shirts and not hit a single one.”

  My sensors were working, and I had my breath back. I reloaded my weapons and cocked the triggers with a satisfying click.

  “Okay, by now the marshal will have freed LB and the kids and led them to cover. We just need to find them and—”

  The shot came out of nowhere and blew a hole through Schemiedan’s back. He dropped to one knee and Fouler Welch ran out of cover and shot him in the chest.

  “Son of a bitch,” Doc shouted and ran out the door with both guns blasting. I followed. There were Curran in the rafters, I dropped them. It seemed like we were moving in slow motion. Bodies toppled forward off the rafters. For a moment, I was happy. Then a shot hit Doc and blew her to a cloud of feathers. I spun, saw a gun at an office door and cut loose. The last Rehd Shirt fell to the ground as I took a shot in the second segment. I staggered, twisted into a ball and dropped.

  “You okay?” Isamary asked. He was kneeling by my head, I had no memory of how he got there. I looked round at my body, counted eight functional legs and stood.

  “I’m fine, go find your dad, but be careful.”

  I covered him as he kicked open office doors, and by that I mean I tried to stay conscious while the kid did the work.

  “I sent a team in to execute the marshal and her deputy,” Fouler Welch growled. He limped out of hiding, holding a pistol as if it was the heaviest thing in the world.

  “She already found a way out,” I said with more confidence than I felt. “Harry is smarter than your whole gang put together.”

  He dragged one leg as he circled me. There was blood over his stomach and his tail was gone. The gun seemed to get heavier.

  “You’re all shot up, Bug.”

  “I’ve seen you looking better.”

  He laughed, or growled, hard to tell difference. I holstered the only flegmatic pistol with charge left in it.

  “I’m old school,” I said. He stopped moving and looked me over. Licked his lips. “I passed a coffee machine, over by that wall.”

  “I have people in a ship in orbit. But I can’t be seen to lose my crew and run away, you understand.”

  “Of course. I think you should stay here and die.”

  He looked at the gun in his hand. So did I. It was a ghastly purple, with gold scroll work. Hideous, but functional.

  “I’m not the one who will die here.” He raised the gun, I drew, and we fired. The heat of the blast scorched my antenna. My shot caught him in the chest and he dropped on his face.

  “I give that fall a nine,” I said. “Points for going down on your face but the finish was an untidy sprawl.”

  Isamary came running back. He had smoke coming from one charred ear.

  “I found them, barricaded in an office at the back. Dad shot my ear before I could say it was me.”

  “Is the marshal okay?”

  “She’s fine. I helped her un-dislocate her thumb.”

  “That’s nice.” The floor rose to meet me and the lights went out.

  CHAPTER 20

  The lights came back on and I was looking at a row of upside-down faces. They had cute big brown eyes and a burst of long hair on top of their heads. They chattered in a language I could not place. My AreUAsleepApp, indicated I was awake but pulsed a small electric shock through my brain just to be sure. Definitely awake. I drew my head up and looked around. I was in the office and a robot medical system was cementing my carapace back together.

  “Told you he wasn’t dead,” Marshal Harry said. She was sat at her desk, LB had the chair in front and Isamary was tying his left leg in a sling. It matched the sling on his right arm for sheer incompetence. The cute faces were attached to hairy bodies hanging by long hooked toes from a frame. There was another frame set up against the wall, with another row of cute hangers on.

  “This will not work,” LB told his boy. “How am I going to get around?”

  “I’ve got a floatiechair for you,” Isamary said. “That will carry you to the ship and we’ll get you a real hospital once we are back home.”

  “About that—”

  “Who are all these people hanging about?” I asked.

  “These are Loow’s kids,” Isamary said, grinning. “They don’t have anywhere else to go, so the marshal said they could sleep here tonight. We’ll take them to Drover’s Moon tomorrow, there’s a Heedyin colony there.”

  “Any Rehd Shirts left?” I asked hopefully. My body ached all over and I was in the mood to shoot someone.

  “No, apparently Daisy Tubes wasn’t as badly damaged as she looked,” LB said. “She finished off the last of the fighters before she headed home.”

  “Damn.”

  “You’ve had enough action for one day,” Marshal Harry said. “You were in a comma for six hours, people were getting worried.”

  “Six hours?” I checked my cybernetic chronometers, and couldn’t believe it. “I must be getting old, getting shot full of holes never used to keep me down for more than an hour.”

  “Comes to us all,” LB said. Isamary began winding a bandage over his head.

  “What happened to you?” I asked.

  “When Marshal Harry dislocated her thumb and freed everyone, I helped jump the guards in the room with us.”

  “And that’s when you got hit on the head?”

  “No. Then we tried taking the kids out a window but were beaten back by perimeter guard bots.”

  “Oh right, that’s when you got hit on the head?”

  “No. Then we picked up the fallen Rehd Shirts’ guns and fought our way into a corridor. We heard someone coming and hid in a room.”

  “That was me,” Isamary admitted. “Looking for you guys. I kicked open the door—”

  “And smacked me in the head with it.”

  “I said I was sorry,” Isamary said.

  “I know you did, but you are a big lad and that was a heavy door.”

  “How about,” the marshal interrupted. “We go over to the bar and put Loow Alsh’s murder to bed?”

  “You know who did it?” I stated.

  “When I was lying there with a bag over my head, I finally realised what had been bothering me from the start.”

  “A reconditioned warbot and its owner shooting each other?” Isamary asked. “Because that seemed unbelievable to me.”

  “N
o, I—”

  “The door being shot from the inside?” I guessed.

  “No, I sol—”

  “All the money except the shroom being stolen?” LB took a shot at it.

  “No! I worked those out,” Marshal Harry said. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

  “I want to see this,” LB said.

  “I’ll get the floatiechair,” Isamary said, heading for the cupboard.

  “Don’t bother, I’ll manage.” LB pulled the sling off his back leg and we limped across the street after the marshal.

  “It was one or more robots,” I decided, as I looked around the lounge. “We found no organic residue, and it takes real firepower to blow holes in a warbot’s hull armour.”

  “You’d think so,” Harry said. “Scan the safe and those blast holes in Sam.”

  We did. I had Isamary under my claws and Long Barnacle leaning over me.

  “He blew the safe with a shaped charge,” Isamary said, running his fingers around the hole. “I can see that from here. I bet the other holes were made by explosives, too.”

  “Absolutely right,” Marshal Harry said.

  “I didn’t serve five years in the Cubs for nothing,” Isamary said. “I learned things.”

  “You’re saying someone used small explosives to blow holes in Big Sam,” I said. “And then shot the holes, to make it look like a powerful gun did it?”

  “That’s my theory,” Marshal Harry said.

  “But why?” LB wondered. “Blast the front door, blast the office door, okay, I could see someone doing that to get at the safe. But why make holes in Big Sam after disabling him?”

  “To hide the obvious,” Marshal Harry said. “Anyone got smokeweed?”

  LB held up a black stick. I didn’t ask where he got it.

  “Light it, please.”

  “If you want a smoke,” Long Barnacle said, reaching for his satchel. “I’ve got something even better for humans.”

  “That will do,” Marshal Harry said. She took the smouldering stick, climbed onto a table and held it under a smoke detector. Nothing happened. She blew on the embers and the smoke alarm shrieked.