“Damage limitation. Damage limitation. Cut to ad break. Cut to ad break!”
“I’m afraid your advertisers are all pulling out, sir,” said Kevin. “Damage limitation, as you so rightly say, only on their part, not yours. You’ve just lost Ringfresh, and I fear the Shiteofast contract won’t last the day.”
The Controller’s voice became a high-pitched electronic whine that quickly went ultrasonic. He slumped there on his legless torso, mouth wide open, countless thumbs checking and rechecking the data on his screens.
“OK, that’s just sad,” Cal said.
“Like, what the fonk is that noise?” barked a voice from beyond the hole. Miz ducked through, her ears folded flat against her head.
“Miz! You’re OK!”
“Of course she’s OK. I saved her,” said Tyrra. “I saved all of them.”
She flicked her eyes to the ceiling. “We,” she corrected, a little begrudgingly. “We saved them.”
Miz gestured to the motionless Controller. “Is he the one doing that?”
“Doing what?” asked Cal.
“That noise. That eeeeeee. Is that him?”
Cal shrugged. “I guess so. I can’t hear anything.”
Miz raised a foot and kicked the Controller on the side of the head. He toppled sideways and clanked onto the floor.
“Did that help?” Cal asked.
“Ugh. No. That totally made it worse,” Miz said. She beckoned to the door. “Come on, let’s get out of here. This place is giving me a migraine.”
“Yeah.” Cal looked around. “Can’t say it’s doing me any favors, either.”
Miz stalked out through the hole. Tyrra moved to follow, but Cal placed a hand on her shoulder and stopped her.
“Wait,” he said.
He took one of the guns from her, then clasped her hand and turned her back toward the white void.
“Take a bow,” he told her.
“What? No. Why?”
“What do you mean, ‘why?’” said Cal. “You stopped the bad guy and saved the day. And, you know, bit some guy’s foot off. You’re the star of the show, kid.”
“It’s stupid.”
“Just take a damn bow,” Cal instructed.
Tyrra hesitated. Then, she dipped her head a fraction and snapped it back up.
“There. Happy?”
“Ecstatic,” said Cal. “And I’m sure your adoring public are, too.”
“Should I take a bow, too, sir?” Kevin asked.
“Uh, sure. Go for it,” said Cal.
There was a pause.
“How was that, sir?”
“Nailed it, Kevin,” said Cal. “I couldn’t have done it better myself.”
“Thank you, sir. Coming from someone as vain and narcissistic as yourself, that really means a lot.”
“You’re welcome,” said Cal.
And then, with a relaxed salute at the viewing audience, Cal turned on his heels, walked out through the hole and straight into the woman of his dreams.
She immediately thumped him on the arm. Up on her shoulder, Splurt rippled.
“Hey!” Cal protested. “What was that for?”
“You dropped me,” Loren reminded him.
“I dropped a simulation of you,” Cal corrected. “Totally different thing.”
“Mostly the same,” said Loren.
“But still different,” said Cal.
“Well…” said Loren.
“So… you were there?” Cal asked. “I mean, not there there, but… There? You heard—”
“Every word you said,” Loren confirmed. Her mouth twitched into a smile. “And, for the record, you’re no fun either.”
“I thought I’d lost you,” Cal blurted, the raw emotion in his voice catching him off guard. He took a second to compose himself.
“Back there, I mean. In the thing. I thought I’d lost you.”
Loren put a hand on his face. Splurt placed a gloopy green tendril to the other cheek. “But you didn’t. I’m right here.”
Splurt wobbled.
“And so’s he.”
Cal clenched his jaw and nodded. It didn’t say much, but it said everything.
“Oh, so you accidentally drop her and you’re all torn up about it,” said Mech from the corridor right behind Cal.
“Jesus, where did you come from?” Cal asked, pulling himself together.
“But I die right in front of you and you don’t shed a single motherfonking tear?”
“I did shed a tear,” Cal said.
“Bullshizz!”
“Not an actual tear, obviously. An inside tear,” Cal said. “And they’re the most special tears of all, Mech.”
Cal placed a hand on the cyborg’s chest and dropped his voice to a solemn whisper. “Those are the most special tears of all.”
“Yeah, yeah, shut the fonk up,” Mech said. He whirred as he turned, then thought better of it. “Oh, and just so we’re clear, you did not beat me.”
“I totally beat you.”
“No. No, you didn’t,” Mech insisted.
“Well, we were fighting, and I was the only one who wasn’t dead at the end, so…”
“Don’t count. It didn’t even happen. It ain’t even a fonking thing,” Mech said.
From along the corridor, Mizette sighed. “Ugh. Will you two just hurry up and kiss each other, already?” she said. “That silver guy is still making that fonking noise.”
Cal and Mech both looked after her. “Us two?” said Cal.
“What the fonk are you talking about?” Mech demanded.
Loren cleared her throat. “Uh, I think she probably means us two,” she said.
“Oh!” said Cal. “Oh, yeah, that totally makes much more sense.”
He didn’t need to be told a third time. He wrapped his arms around Loren and pulled her close, until he could feel her breath against his skin. Their eyes met. Their lips locked. Splurt wobbled awkwardly on Loren’s shoulder.
And all across the sector, thanks to Kevin gaining access to the station’s vast royalty-free audio and special effects library, the music swelled and a heart-shaped wipe brought the worst ever rated episode of The Hunt to an oddly satisfying close.
When they finally separated, Tyrra was standing a foot away, watching them intently.
“Uh, hi,” said Cal. “Everything OK?”
“Yes. Everything is OK,” she confirmed. “But…”
She glanced down at her feet, snarled briefly, then raised her head again. “I would like to ask permission to do something.”
“Permission?” said Cal.
All along the corridor, the rest of the crew turned to look at her in surprise.
“Yes. Permission.”
Cal shot Miz a look. “Uh, OK. Sure. Shoot. What is it you want to do?”
Tyrra twisted the power dial on the side of the blaster she was carrying. “I would like to go and kill those puppets.”
Cal frowned and scratched at the stubble on his chin. “Kill the puppets?”
“Please,” Tyrra added, her mouth initially reluctant to form the word until she forced it to comply.
Cal glanced across at the faces of the others.
“Ain’t like the girl to ask anyone’s permission,’” Mech pointed out. “That’s progress.”
“And those puppets were, like, total shizznods,” Miz reminded him.
Cal sighed. “Fine. You can kill one puppet.”
For a moment, it looked like Tyrra might argue, but she clamped her mouth shut before it could get her into trouble. She nodded and turned away.
“She did say ‘please,’” said Loren.
“And she was very receptive to my instructions, sir,” Kevin added. “Without her, things would not have worked out the way they did.”
Cal softened. “Ah, what the hell? Go ahead, kid. Kill both of them,” he said, giving her the fingerguns. “You earned it.”
Thirty-Nine
Cal sat in his chair aboard the Currently Untitled, staring at
the number displayed on screen. It was not, mercifully, another of Kevin’s math lessons, but something infinitely better.
“And that’s money?” Cal said. “That’s actual money that we have?”
“Indeed, sir,” said Kevin. “I took the liberty of acquiring the funds which should have rightfully been yours for reaching the finish line,” he explained.
“But that’s not—”
“And then I got over-excited and took lots more, sir, yes.”
“So, we stole it?” asked Loren, strapping herself in and flicking a row of switches on her console.
“Only in the sense that we unlawfully took it from the people it belonged to, ma’am,” Kevin said.
“What other sense is there?” asked Loren.
Kevin hesitated.
“The sixth sense, ma’am?”
“Great movie,” said Cal. “Bruce Willis is dead the whole time.” He waved a hand. “But I don’t want to spoil it for anyone, so I won’t say anymore.”
Cal looked across the bridge. Mech stood at his console, doing whatever it was Mech did. Splurt was up in the pipework at the ceiling somewhere, doing Splurt stuff. Miz slouched in her chair, doing absolutely nothing whatsoever, yet managing to convey the impression that this was somehow unfair.
And at the back, curled up in one of the guest chairs, Tyrra slept soundly.
“Aw, look at her. Somebody had a long day,” said Cal, softly. “All that eating people and murdering puppets must’ve really taken it out of her.”
Although her eyes didn’t open, Tyrra’s arm came up quickly. A Viaview Network mug whistled through the air then whanged off Cal’s forehead.
“Ow! Jesus!”
“Ha,” said Tyrra, settling deeper into the chair. She yawned, showing her terrifying cavern of a throat. “Bested.”
“Man, I hate that kid,” Cal whispered.
“No, you don’t,” said Loren.
Cal sighed. “No,” he admitted. “I don’t.”
“Sorry to intrude, everyone, but it appears we have a visitor,” Kevin announced. “Should I put him on screen?”
“Go for it,” said Cal, taking a last look at the insane number of digits currently filling the display.
The image changed to show the landing platform outside. The Controller stood there, his legs regrown, his multitude of arms all pointing up at the Untitled.
“Oh, hey, it’s that guy,” said Cal. “Can he hear me?”
“He can now, sir,” said Kevin.
“Hey, you!” Cal called. “You gave us a real scare there for a moment. We thought your, you know, processors or whatever had melted.”
“I’ll prove it!” cried the Controller, shaking several fists.
Cal looked around at the others. “Did we miss the start of this?” he muttered, then he leaned a little closer to the screen. “Prove what?”
“I’ll prove that I am the most sophisticated artificial intelligence in the galaxy!” the Controller said. “I challenge your AI to a battle of wits! My synthetic brain against his. Two intellects, locked in mental combat, only one—”
A blast of cannon-fire from the Currently Untitled’s weapons system turned the Controller into a charred patch of black on the ground.
“Did I win?” asked Kevin, once the dust had settled.
“I’d say so,” said Loren.
“Pretty definitive, if you ask me,” Mech agreed.
“Good going there, champ,” said Cal. “Totally sucker-punched the shizz out of him.”
Kevin didn’t make a sound, and yet they could all sense him basking quietly in their praise.
“So, like, what’s next?” asked Mizette. “I take it we go buy the warp disk, or whatever?”
Cal nodded. “I can get on board with that plan. Anyone object?”
He looked around. Nobody seemed to have a problem with it.
“Then it’s settled. We go get us the warp disk, then we blast the fonk out of here and never look back.”
His eyes met Loren’s. “Unless… What you said before. About staying. Settling down. If you… I mean… If you still want…?” Cal said. “Because I would. If you want. I would.”
Around them, the ship seemed to hold its breath. Loren glanced down at a little star map on her console, then around at the bridge.
“I’m good where we are,” she said. “For now, anyway.”
Cal’s face lit up in a grin. “Well, alright!” he said. “Loren, set a course for the closest space shopping mall.”
“Aye aye, captain,” Loren sighed. It was good-natured, though.
He hoped.
Cal looked over at Mech standing by his console, Miz slouching in her chair, and Tyrra snoring in her sleep, then he settled back in his seat, gripped the arm rests, and gazed out past the smoldering remains of the Controller and ahead to the great void of space beyond.
“Let’s go blow some Vajacox.”
Further Reading
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Space Team- The Collected Adventures 4 Page 89
