by Jake Bible
“If we come at them from a forty-five-degree angle in about two minutes we should be able to get by undetected,” Fig said. “Watchdog is timing his movements to draw their attention away from that sight line every one hundred and twenty seconds.”
“Undetected is good,” Rage said.
A massive crash filled the air and the atrium went quiet except for a few rattling clangs from the crash’s aftermath.
Rage slowly looked over his shoulder to see Mosh standing in the middle of a demolished stall, his feet tapping along to an unheard song.
“The rhythm was too strong,” Mosh said and snapped his hip to the left. “My bad.”
Rage looked back at Watchdog and the Charbeshuns. The smoke creatures were glaring at Rage. Watchdog was looking up at the atrium’s ceiling in exasperation.
“Well, guess we’re not going out that way,” Rage said as the Charbeshuns moved as one straight for Rage. “Fig!”
“Finding a new exit!” Fig exclaimed.
“Good! Now, run!” Rage said and sprinted in the opposite direction from the oncoming Charbeshuns.
Twenty-Three
Rage didn’t care who he shoved, who he knocked down, who he trampled over. All he cared about was following a sprinting Fig through the labyrinthine aisles of stalls. The pink guy was quite spry when he wanted to be, and Rage was having a hard time keeping up simply because every asshole alien in the atrium seemed to step in front of Rage at just the wrong moment. Every fucking one.
“Tin Man? You with me?” Rage shouted over the comms, not able to look back to see if the metal-skinned man was behind him or not.
“Right on your heels,” Mosh replied over the comms. “You know, if you do a little slide shuffle every three steps, you’d have one killer dance move in your arsenal.”
“I have an Axis combat rifle in my arsenal,” Rage said. “And two pistols plus a bunch of… Fuck. Where’re my knives? Goddamn pickpockets! I fucking hate this station so damn much!”
“Hate ruins your groove, brother,” Mosh said.
“Shut up!” Rage snarled as Fig took a sharp right through a gap between two groups of aliens that Rage had zero chance of fitting through. “Well, shit.”
Rage slammed into both groups, his bulk sending the aliens flying in every direction, especially up into the air.
“Move!” Rage yelled.
“Rage! Where are you going?” Watchdog asked over the comms. “You need to head this way!”
“Oh, do I?” Rage snarled as he punched a tufted Boopernit in the face, sending the furry behemoth spinning out of Rage’s path. “You did notice the Charbeshun problem, yeah? Fig has a new exit plotted.”
“The exit we need, the original exit, is not clear of Charbeshuns since they are all in pursuit of you, Rage,” Watchdog said. “Change course and come back this way.”
“That is where I’m leading us!” Fig shouted over the comms. “The exit I was heading toward appears to be blocked as well by more Charbeshuns.”
“Jesus, where did they come from?” Rage asked. “And why didn’t that Mike asshole alert us to all the Charbeshuns onboard the station? Some help that rolly polly piece of shit is.”
A blur of smoke slammed into Rage’s left shoulder, sending him sprawling across a display table filled with perfume bottles. Rage roared in disgust as the multitude of scents exploded all over him.
“Sweet smelling shit hell!” Rage yelled as he tumbled over the table, got to his feet, head-butted the vendor who was screeching about broken bottles, tore a hole in the thin wall of the stall, jumped through the hole, punched the vendor in the stall that backed up to the one he’d just escaped from, then was out in an aisle, six Charbeshuns facing him, all looking way more solid than wispy smoke. “Well, fuck me.”
Rage pulled his rifle from his back, flicked the switch that had a skull and crossbones directly above it, aimed, and fired. Three of the Charbeshuns were vaporized instantly. One lost half its smoky torso, and the last two retreated into a stall selling bottomless satchels and inverted umbrellas.
Rage slung his rifle and ran his ass off. He pumped his legs as fast as they would tolerate. Which was a lot considering how engineered Rage was.
“Harshing my groove!” Mosh bellowed from behind Rage.
A mangled Charbeshun went sailing over Rage’s head and collided with a pack of Donkerpils, large armadillo-looking aliens, that were already trying to roll up into tight little balls. The Donkerpils were sent flying in all directions, their armored bodies taking down stalls left and right.
“Ow! Ow! Stop that!” Mosh shouted.
A second Charbeshun went sailing past Rage. It hit the floor, skidded to a stop, then stood up and faced Rage, its eyes glowing fierce with anger. Rage pulled his rifle once more, obliterated the Charbeshun, then re-slung his rifle in a series of seamlessly executed moves.
Mosh caught up with Rage just as Rage caught up with Fig and a waiting Watchdog at the original atrium exit they’d been heading for from the beginning.
“This way,” Fig said and started jogging once more.
Rage saw a scorch mark along the back of Fig’s neck.
“You alright there, Pinky?” Rage asked, following close behind the plastic-coated man.
“Are we back to that already?” Fig asked. “Of course we are. Yes, Rage, I am fine. My exodermis can handle a good deal of damage before it needs to be replaced.”
“Looks a little melty,” Mosh said from Rage’s left.
“Easily repairable once we are through with this job,” Fig said. “Now, please pay attention. There are a series of turns we must take in order to avoid—”
Fig’s head exploded as a Charbeshun overtook them all and sliced straight through his skull.
Rage, Mosh, and Watchdog skidded to a stop and stared at the corpse that was still jogging along as if it wasn’t headless. Then there was a slight stumble, a stutter step, and the body collapsed onto the floor, blood spraying and splurting from the wide-open neck.
“Bolt Butt! Pick up the slack and find out what series of turns he was talking about!” Rage ordered as he raced at the Charbeshun that had turned to face him. “Got a sentient fart to kill!”
The Charbeshun hissed and stood its ground. Rage roared and kept heading straight for the smoke creature.
“You are the devil!” the Charbeshun shouted just as Rage collided with it.
Rage bounced off the suddenly solid body of the Charbeshun. The creature formed two arms and placed both hands on its swirling approximation of hips as Rage fell back on his ass.
“The devil must die!” the Charbeshun shouted.
“The devil must die!” several more Charbeshuns echoed from behind Rage, Mosh, and Watchdog.
“Jesus. Exaggerate much, you piles of shit steam?” Rage said as he picked himself up off the ground.
A Charbeshun sucker-punched Rage across the back of his head then swooped out of reach as Rage struggled to recover from the blow. He stumbled a bit, turned, then snarled as he saw four Charbeshuns pinning Mosh up against the wall while two others blocked Watchdog from getting into the fight.
“Hey, I didn’t kill your pal back on Earth, you hear me?” Rage said. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I was framed for that.”
The Charbeshun that had sucker-punched Rage zipped past again, slapping him across the right cheek.
“Ow, you little dust toot,” Rage said. “Knock it off!”
“Gotta boogie!” Mosh roared and tore free of two of the Charbeshuns. He swung hard and fast, smashing them up against the wall. Smoke exploded everywhere and Mosh was quickly coated in Charbeshun gunk. “Sticky! Yuck!”
The two Charbeshuns that still had ahold of Mosh quickly thought better of their life choices and let go, fleeing as fast as possible away from the enraged metal-skinned man. He reached out and snagged one of them, spun the creature over his head, then slammed it into the wall, creating more of a mess.
“Damn! More sticky shit!” Mosh yelled
.
The Charbeshun facing off with Rage considered a new tactic and fled as well. The two holding back Watchdog were right on its tail and in seconds, the corridor was empty of all Charbeshuns. Far off back at the atrium, curious faces appeared at the entryway, but they disappeared just as fast when Rage went for his rifle.
“Yeah. Nothing to see here,” Rage spat then looked down at the headless Fig. “Damnit. Didn’t see that…”
Then Rage did pull his rifle as he took three steps back. Fig’s headless corpse was shaking. There was a far-off cry of pain and anguish then a new head popped free of the torso and filled like a balloon right where Fig’s old head had been.
“Okay, that’s not normal,” Rage said and yanked the newly headed Fig up onto his feet. “Talk, Pinky!”
“Uh, well, my brain was moved to my chest after my accident because my skull took too much damage,” Fig said. “The head you see is simply a facsimile of what my old head used to look like.”
“Neat trick, man,” Mosh said as he fruitlessly tried to wipe the Charbeshun gunk from his body. “My brain is still in my head. Your way sounds way more cool.”
“Cool or not, we must keep moving,” Watchdog said. “Fig, would you like me to navigate for us while you calibrate your new sensory apparatus?”
“You need to knock the rocks loose up there or are you good to go?” Rage asked Fig in his own words.
“I am good to go,” Fig said. “Follow me. We’ll arrive in the second atrium shortly.”
Fig started walking quickly and Rage fell in behind him with Watchdog next and an annoyed Mosh taking up the rear.
“If we pass a bathroom, I wanna stop and see if soap and water will get this crap off me,” Mosh said.
“No can do, Tin Man,” Rage said. “We got a long way to walk before we’re even close to executing the main phase of this job. Deal with the sticky and keep up.”
“You ever had this shit all over you before, Rage?” Mosh asked.
“Yeah, I have,” Rage replied. “So deal.”
Mosh grumbled for a few yards then complained his way into a quiet sulk.
“So far, no one is reporting you specifically, Rage,” Watchdog said. “I have been monitoring all comms channels, even the security lines that are supposed to be encrypted. There is chatter about the incident in Atrium 828, but no one has said your name or even mentioned the Charbeshuns.”
“This galaxy is uncharacteristically unfriendly to the Charbeshuns,” Fig said. “I have never known why.”
“Because they turn into sticky gunk that you can’t get off when you kill them, that’s why,” Mosh said. “I wasn’t before, but I’m a little prejudiced against the nasty fucks now.”
“My lady is asking for a situation report,” Watchdog said.
“What did you tell her, Bolt Butt?” Rage asked.
“I have not told her anything, Rage,” Watchdog replied. “You are team leader. Would you like to report to her or shall I give her an abbreviated version of the events?”
“Go for it,” Rage said. “Let her know we’re halfway to the club.”
“I will,” Watchdog said.
“We are halfway, right, Pinky?” Rage asked Fig.
“Could we go back to you using my real name?” Fig asked.
“No. That moment passed. Deal,” Rage replied. “Halfway or not?”
“Yes, we are halfway,” Fig said. “Three more turns and we’ll be at Atrium 541.”
“Good. Look sharp, folks,” Rage said. He pulled and checked his rifle.
“Is that wise?” Watchdog asked.
“Did you miss the entire last thirty minutes of shit?” Rage asked. “Not having it out and ready would be unwise.”
“I suppose we have already passed the point of no return when it comes to attracting undue attention,” Watchdog said.
“You can say that again, Bolt Butt,” Rage said as they took the first turn. “How’d your lady like the report?”
“She is disappointed, yet not surprised,” Watchdog said. “Perhaps concerned is the right word to describe her state of mind. That and slightly hurt that you did not report to her directly.”
“Reports weren’t in the contract,” Rage said.
They took the second turn. A pair of humans nodded at the team, but didn’t seem alarmed or phased by the rifle Rage held. One of them sneered at the weapon and Rage frowned.
“Screw you,” Rage muttered once past. “Axis is the best combat rifle in the galaxy.”
“It is a tad dated, Rage,” Watchdog said, not bothering to hide his amusement. “But if it is the weapon you are most familiar with, then no need for you to update and try something new. What is that saying you humans have about old dogs and new tricks?”
“That you can go fuck yourself? Is that the saying you were looking for?” Rage snapped.
“Yes. I believe that is the one,” Watchdog replied.
They took the third turn and walked directly into Atrium 541.
The team stopped and stared.
“That is a considerable amount of…junk,” Fig said.
“Flea market!” Mosh exclaimed and pushed past the team, almost skipping toward the first dirty table of moldy wares.
“That guy is off, right?” Rage asked Watchdog and Fig. “It’s not just me, yeah? Tin Man has a few gears loose up top.”
Watchdog nor Fig tried to argue with Rage on that point.
Twenty-Four
“Let’s try to not end up in a fight in this atrium, alright, folks?” Rage said.
Fig and Watchdog turned and stared.
“What?” Rage asked. “You guys don’t think that was my fault back there, do you?”
“Neither of us started the fight,” Watchdog said. “I was trying to diffuse it.”
“Then we’ll blame the Charbeshuns since it was really their fault,” Rage said. “Still. No fights. Let’s get through here fast and… Damnit. Where’d Tin Man go?”
“He is at the end of this row of tables,” Fig said. “Playing with a stuffed animal.”
“Playing with a… Why? Why would he do that?” Rage asked.
“I believe he suffered greatly by being forced to fight in the pits on Trorpho Nine,” Fig said. “He probably never had much of a childhood which is why he is acting the way he is. Going from a ruthless, brutal environment like Trorpho Nine into galactic civilization can take some adjustment.”
A one-armed man was flung across the heads of the flea market shoppers then shot to death before he hit the ground. A few people cheered. Some booed. Some complained of getting blood on their clothes. Others complained about the corpse they now had to walk around. No one seemed to care that a man had been launched and shot down like skeet.
“Or relative civilization, considering,” Fig amended.
“At least no one is trying to spray me with perfume in this atrium,” Rage said.
“You have plenty still on you to last for some time, Rage,” Watchdog said. “I switched off my olfactory protocol a ways back.”
“Yeah, I think my nose died about the same time,” Rage said. Shouting was heard at the end of the row where Mosh was towering over an angry vendor. “Great. What now?”
Rage threaded his way through the crowd until he reached Mosh. The metal man was about to punch the vendor, who was standing her ground despite the obvious size disadvantage. Rage grabbed Mosh’s arm and spun him so they were face to face.
“What in the actual hell are you doing, Tin Man?” Rage snarled.
“See that?” Mosh asked, yanking free of Rage’s grip so he could point to a ratty little teddy bear that sat on the table of junk the vendor was selling. “I had one of those when I was a little ingot.”
“A little what?” Rage asked.
“Ingot,” Fig said from behind Rage. “Qitnits call their young ‘ingots.’ It goes along with their metallurgical nature.”
“Don’t care anymore,” Rage said and focused on Mosh. “Did you not hear me about not starting fights?
”
“Mosh had already left us when you gave your idiotic speech,” Watchdog said. “Lucky him.”
“Whatever,” Rage said and punched Mosh in the chest. The big metal man didn’t even flinch. “You. We are not here for stuffed toys. We have a job to do. Forget the stupid bear and let’s keep moving.”
“I want that bear,” Mosh said, planting his feet and crossing his arms over his chest. “Lady won’t give it to me.”
“You have to buy it, you seven-foot-tall empty can of beans,” the vendor spat.
“Empty can of beans.” Rage chuckled. “I like that.”
“Know what I like? I like cash money,” the vendor said. “You want the bear, you pay me for it.”
“Yeah, we’re not buying today,” Rage said. “Not really supposed to be browsing. Tin Man? We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”
“Easiest way is you buy that bear for me,” Mosh said.
“No, the easy way is for you to stop being a baby and start walking,” Rage said.
“That’s the easy way, but I want the easiest way. Buy the bear and I start walking,” Mosh said.
Rage looked back at Watchdog and gave the bot a “Can you believe this guy?” look. Watchdog shook his head in response.
“You know if we go the hard way, you’re gonna get hurt, right?” Rage asked Mosh.
Mosh leaned in close, nearly touching noses with Rage.
“And you know that if you even try the hard way you’re gonna get dead, right?” Mosh sneered.
“This is why you don’t let other people pick your team for you,” Rage muttered to himself. “Fine. You want the bear, Tin Man?”
“Yes.”
“Then you get the bear,” Rage said and faced the vendor. “How much?”
The vendor smirked. “Two hundred thousand chits.”
“Say what now?” Rage asked, dumbfounded.
“Supply and demand,” the vendor said. “Your big Qitnit here demands you buy him the bear. I’m the only one with the supply. Two hundred thousand or no bear.”
