How to Save the Universe with a Drunk Space Ninja

by Jay Key

  I better have not just been shot in the ass, surmised Duke.

  The pain sharpened. Then it spread down past his hamstring and into the back of his kneecap. His jog turned into a limp. His limp turned into a tumble. Duke hit the hard floor with a thud, dropping the Queen with an equally cringe-worthy crash.

  The bounty hunter looked down through squinted eyes and saw not a mark left by a blaster or rifle, but the pewter hilt of a knife. A throwing dagger, to be exact. Mazilda Cloax’s throwing dagger, to be super-duper exact. Luckily for Duke, he recognized this particular dagger, which was one of her shorter blades. If she had connected with one of her favorite throwing daggers, its other end would have ripped through his pelvis and added an extra hole in his belt. But even though it wasn’t the most intimidating knife, it hurt. A lot. It was still, after all, a knife that was jabbed into his outer thigh, between his buttock and hip bone.

  He looked up and saw Queen Joe struggling to make her way to her feet. He was pleased to see that, at first glance, she appeared to have no knives sticking out of her, and no gunshot wounds.

  “Get her! Get Joe!” shouted Duke at Ishiro’shea and Lutra. “Get her behind that wall!”

  The pair sprinted to Joe and hoisted her up.

  “What about you?” asked the Hilterian.

  “I’ll be fine. You two take the Queen before she gets shot by these bastards.”

  Ishiro’shea noticed the dagger. Duke could tell that his partner recognized it immediately.

  “Go, Ish. We’re all dead if they get her and the Orb. I’ll be crawling right behind y’all.”

  The ninja nodded.

  That’s why he was Salutatorian.

  The sound of the Four I’s soldiers’ boots rattled the decor in the bar. They were moments away from bull rushing Cyborg Joe’s. This was the proverbial “it.” Queen Joe’s valiant patchwork force would either stop the well-armed Admiral LePaco and his fine-tuned soldiers and save the universe, or else LePaco was about to acquire the final piece in his megalomaniacal puzzle of conquest. And it was going to happen at Cyborg Joe’s.

  Duke turned onto his side so that he faced the door, resting his weight on the buttock that wasn’t impaled by a dagger. He aimed Betsy at the opening.

  “Stay back, everyone,” he yelled. “I’m going to take out as many as I can. If they walk through that door, Betsy’s greeting ‘em with her own interpretation of a handshake.”

  “I’m coming to get you,” shouted Lutra over the increasing volume of the invaders. “Just stay there.”

  “No, stay back. Queen, tell her to stay back.”

  The bounty hunter didn’t look back to see if the Queen held her back or to say a final goodbye to his long-time companion.

  Sorry, Ish. Let me be the hero this time.

  “Just make sure to keep that Orb away from LePaco, at all costs,” yelled Duke as he aimed Betsy at the entrance.

  I hope LePaco has the guts to come through first.

  “I don’t have the Orb. It’s gone. Duke, it’s gone!”

  It was rare to see Queen Joe actually panicking.

  Duke lowered Betsy and quickly scanned the ground around him. Splintered tables. Upturned chars. Shattered neon signs. Puddles of booze. Puddles of other stuff that were likely to never be identified properly.

  Along the perimeter wall were a handful of half-circle dining booths. Many a MechaBurger 8000 had been consumed in those seats. Many a culinary adventurer had made their final adventure in those seats as well. The first booth was twice the size of the others, as it was reserved for the plus-sized species of traveler. It was also a favorite of those that preferred to walk on four legs, or six. It was spacious. And a glowing purple sphere rested in the shadows beneath its oversized table.

  The Orb must have fallen when Duke dropped the Queen. Not only was he the closest to it by a good margin, he was responsible for its current whereabouts.

  “I got it,” Duke shouted to his cohorts behind the barricade.

  The bounty hunter made it onto his knees, balancing his weight on his two hands and one good leg. He pushed off, propelling himself as close to the booth as he could muster. But he was still short. He made his way up again into a similar position.

  The sound of the Four I’s boots had ceased. In its place was the sound of their guns. They were inside Cyborg Joe’s and, as of yet, the Orb was not safe. Duke readied himself for one last lunge. Once he had it, it would be up to his friends to give him enough cover to get back. Or he’d just throw the Orb as far as he could towards them and hope for a miracle. In typical Duke LaGrange fashion, he’d just wing it.

  The bounty hunter balanced himself. The firefight had clearly begun, but he could tell by the sound that it was focused around the entrance area.

  His jaw cracked. His body hit the floor again. And so did his face.

  He turned over to see his worst nightmare; the slightly jaundiced profile of his former love, Mazilda Cloax.

  “You punched me,” said Duke involuntarily.

  “Yeah, and I stabbed you,” Cloax added. “How can you be shocked by this?”

  “Sorry, habit. I’m used to you being, you know, not a bitch.”

  Mazilda caught sight of the Orb. She smiled.

  Her gaze returned to the Nova Texan. “This time, I am truly sorry, Duke. I never thought I’d be able to kill you but you’ve forced my hand.”

  “I wish I could’ve done something back then that would’ve prevented you from turning into this.”

  She unsheathed a blade. The dagger’s hilt was pewter, inlaid with sparking red jewels; it was an old knife, but it was meticulously preserved by a true master craftsman. Mazilda was a true master.

  “I’m sorry—” she began.

  “You can’t kill me with that knife,” interrupted Duke, “I gave you that knife.”

  She paused and looked at the dagger. “So you did.”

  As she refocused on the bounty hunter, Duke let loose a primal scream as he ripped the throwing dagger from his backside and slashed Mazilda’s forearm. It was little more than a superficial cut, but the assassin dropped her blade. Duke took advantage of her being temporarily stunned, and placed a boot into her stomach, causing her to roll back a few paces from where he lay bleeding on the floor. He scurried backwards, propelled by his three good limbs, to the diner booth.

  Mazilda recovered and pounced again. Her knee caught his ribcage flush. A backhanded swipe of her hand hit the bounty hunter’s jaw with a thud. She hoisted her dagger in the air, but Duke grabbed her arm, preventing it from crashing down on his skull. He held her wrist with his other hand.

  Even when Duke was at full strength and not recovering from a knife wound, Mazilda was the much more accomplished fighter. Though he was physically larger, she was stronger, more athletic. But he scored higher than her when it came to the most important aspect of combat, especially when it’s of the mortal variety—somehow he always figured out a way to survive. Whether it was an attack of a three-headed ice wombat, having spears hurled at him from a legion of priest warriors, or fighting in a pit fighting tournament on Psitakki, Duke LaGrange found a way.

  He knew he couldn’t hold Mazilda at bay for much longer, especially as blood continued to flow from his thigh. Mazilda seemed content on staying the course, knowing that she would eventually overpower the bounty hunter.

  “You taught me this one,” Duke said through clenched teeth.

  He let go of her left wrist; the momentum pulled her body downwards. The trajectory of her upper torso led to a collision between Mazilda’s face and Duke’s fist. The jab struck her across the bridge of the nose. She rolled to the left until she was completely off of Duke, freeing the bounty hunter to retrieve the Orb.

  As the firefight intensified, Duke scrambled to the booth and secured the Orb. Aside from stray blasts and ricochets, the shootout had not made its way to the perimeter. It was a straight shot to safety.

  With an earsplitting crack the table shattered into two pi
eces. Duke clung to the Orb, still not on his feet and still sitting in a pool of his own blood.

  Standing over him was Mazilda Cloax, nose crooked and bruising. She did not have her trademark dagger aimed at her former partner. Apparently she was done with daggers. Duke was now staring directly into the barrel of a pulse pistol.

  He gripped the Orb tighter.

  “I could really use some help right now,” he said, his eyes darting to the tattered barrier being bombarded by enemy fire. He didn’t see Ishiro’shea or Lilly or Lutra or Queen Joe. But he knew they were behind there somewhere.

  “I said I could really use some help right now,” he shouted at the top of his lungs.

  “You’re not getting any help today, my love.”

  Mazilda squeezed the trigger.

  Chapter 28

  Inter-Dimensional Doomsday Device

  DUKE CLOSED HIS EYES, BRACING himself for a quick descent into lifelessness. There was no way that Mazilda Cloax could miss a point-blank shot.

  But she did.

  The bounty hunter could feel the heat of the ray above his left shoulder; it warmed his neck and crept down his spine. His grip on the Orb remained firm. He slowly opened his eyes. Mazilda was there, a bewildered expression on her face. She was backlit by a roaring red glow.

  “What the—” She turned to face the crackling crimson blob.

  Out from the portal stepped a muscular, athletic female with unblemished skin a shade somewhere between bronze and orange. She was taller and leaner than the assassin. In her hand was a golden ceremonial staff that had likely been a gift from a certain Neprian priest.

  Duke’s eyes widened and his jaw hung open. He looked down at the mustangsen pendant that lay against his chest.

  Ja’a.

  “Who are you?” screeched Mazilda. Her gun was still pointed at Duke but her attention was now firmly on the rogue portal opening.

  The Neprian glanced at Mazilda, then at Duke, and finally, her eyes landed on the gun being pointed at her friend.

  “Who are you?” Mazilda shouted again. She turned to face Duke. “Do you know this woman?”

  The strike with the staff was sudden and violent. Mazilda crashed to the bar floor and slid near Duke and the Orb. Her gun flew halfway across the room and landed in the middle of the firefight.

  “Are you alright?” Ja’a asked, her eyes darting around as she took in the scene of carnage. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m fine,” Duke lied. “But we need to get over there.” He pointed towards the barricade. “We need to get this over there.”

  “The Orb? What’s it doing—”

  “No time, I’ll fill you in later. Let’s just say that if those guys over there get it, we’re all dead.”

  Ja’a nodded and helped the bleeding bounty hunter to his feet.

  “I don’t remember you being this heavy,” Ja’a joked as they made their way along the perimeter wall, trying not to attract the Four I’s attention or gunfire. “I see you need someone to keep you in shape.”

  “I’ll admit, I haven’t had to walk across an entire country in search of a magic rock lately,” he said through a grimace.

  “But it was good exercise,” she replied. “And good times.”

  Duke couldn’t see from his wounded position, but he wanted to believe that Ja’a said that with her magnificent smile.

  “Who was that with the gun?”

  “An old friend.”

  “Friend?”

  “She was an old friend,” Duke corrected himself.

  “What did I tell you about your particular brand of exploits? I know I’m from a ‘backwoods rock’ as you like to say, but my assumption is that treating people in the manner you treat them is universally unacceptable. You were bound to get in trouble.”

  “This is not one of those cases. By the way, you’re in a good mood for someone that’s been deposited in the middle of a war,” Duke remarked.

  “Let’s just say it’s good to see you again.”

  “I’m really glad to see you too. And not just because you saved my ass.”

  “Looks like I was a bit late on that front,” Ja’a commented, playfully patting the bounty hunter’s bloodstained hip.

  He yelped. “Ouch!”

  “Sorry, I didn’t—”

  Duke felt a force as powerful as a Trampling Death Robots drum solo hit his lower back. The jolt launched him shoulder-first into the wall. He crumpled to the floor. He sighed internally. Not the floor again.

  Mazilda Cloax leapt to her feet, having tackled the bounty hunter. Ja’a’s stumble from the unexpected attack had separated her from Duke and had allowed Mazilda to situate herself between them. The assassin drew her favorite dagger. Ja’a countered with Vernglet Wip’s ceremonial rod.

  Ja’a blocked Mazilda’s first charge, redirecting her out of striking distance. Cloax lunged but, once again, Ja’a was too quick, landing a sharp jab into Mazilda’s abdomen with the butt of the staff. Mazilda grimaced but remained focused on the Neprian. Another approach, another denial. Mazilda’s face changed from its jaundiced hue to a red equal to that of the portal that brought her opponent here. The struggle raged; Mazilda’s anger-fueled advances were all thwarted but Ja’a’s fluid combinations with her staff also never found the mark. It was a battle of equals.

  A stray blast from one of the Four I’s soldiers struck the floor in front of Ja’a, sending fragments into the air and into the face of the Neprian. She closed her eyes and turned her head to avoid the debris.

  Mazilda pounced with her dagger aimed at the distracted warrior. Ja’a dodged the death blow with a quick slide to the right, whipped her body around in a full circle, her back now towards her devious counterpart. The momentum of her spin propelled her staff with even more velocity; when it stuck Mazilda, she fell to the floor with a noise louder than the laser strike.

  “Get the Orb and go, Duke,” barked the still dazed Ja’a.

  The bounty hunter pulled himself up, leaning on the wall for support. The Orb was tucked away in the crook of one arm and his other braced against the wall. His hobble grew even more pronounced. But the finish line was in sight.

  The dagger embedded itself into the wall an eyelash’s length from his face. Duke recoiled with shock, causing him to lose his balance; he caught himself with his right arm before he crashed into the floor yet again. The Orb pried itself loose from his right arm as he hit the ground. Oddly, it didn’t bounce: when it connected with the floor, it stopped immediately as if it had been lobbed into a pile of thick sludge. Then, despite having no visible means of locomotion, it began to roll slowly away from Duke. He made one last effort to swipe at it, but it was already out of reach.

  He looked up to see the wounded Mazilda. She locked eyes with her former lover and smiled. For the first time, Duke saw her for who she was, or rather who she had become. It shouldn’t have taken him this long, considering the atrocities that she had caused, or stood by and let happen, but for the first time, Duke realized that she was evil. Very evil. Admiral LePaco-level evil.

  Mazilda’s smile lasted only a moment. Ja’a’s staff struck her head with a focused force.

  If she isn’t dead, at the very least she’s not going anywhere for a while, thought Duke.

  Now Ja’a seemed to notice the rolling Orb. It wasn’t the first time that she’d seen this particular Orb behave this way, remembered Duke.

  “I’ll get it,” she shouted.

  The Orb continued its path; it was directly in the center of the ongoing firefight between the rebel holdouts behind the barricade and the Four I’s soldiers.

  “No!” Duke screamed with as much power as he could muster. “You’ll get shot before you’re anywhere near it.”

  She furled her brow. “I can get it.”

  “Don’t,” pleaded the Nova Texan.

  He realized that the matrix of lasers and plasma blasts that had crisscrossed the bar had now stopped. Both sides had noticed the glowing violet sphere. It h
ad slowed to a stop and was now nestled comfortably on a shattered floor plank.

  “I really can get it now,” said the Neprian. She turned to retrieve the Orb, then stopped. Her next steps were backwards towards Duke, not in the direction of the inter-dimensional artifact.

  Admiral Lothario LePaco emerged from behind the Four I’s lines. He wore his usual garish ensemble, but on his left forearm was draped a shield. The Shield. The grand prize of the Tournament of the Shield of the Colossal Calamari. One third of a weapon that could tear apart the fabric of a universe with the nonchalance of somebody brushing their teeth. Furthermore, hanging around his neck was an exceptionally shiny piece of jeweled wire, attached to which was an equally shiny locket. The Amplification Key.

  LePaco was followed by a single Four I’s commander. He had to be important because he had a lot of medals.

  No one fired at either of them. Though the Shield that LePaco carried was one of the most powerful objects in the whole of the universe, his human shield was just as effective. Pressed against him, hands bound behind her back, was Ishiro’shea’s mother. The Four I’s commander tugged on the chains that held the Father, Ishiro’shea’s dad, in check, despite his struggles.

  “Shoot him!” boomed the Father. “Forget about us! Shoot him! Now!”

  No one fired.

  LePaco threw Yumi Nobunaga-Flaherty to the ground. He raised his shielded arm. As the Orb sped towards him, the rebel forces stood motionless in shock. Even Ishiro’shea remained inert.

  “Shoot him,” echoed Duke. “Now!”

  LePaco picked up the Orb. His cackle filled every nook and crevice in Cyborg Joe’s.

  “You morons,” he said, his voice coated in condescension. He held the Orb in the air and examined it.

  The recovering Queen Joe peered over the barricade. Duke could see the horror in her eyes.

  “Fire! Fire! With everything you’ve got,” she commanded.

  The rebels opened fire. Duke scanned the crowd. He didn’t see Ishiro’shea.