by Chris Lowry
None looked at Tinker, nor answered him.
“Guess they want us to be surprised.”
They were.
The Xia led them into a large room on the ship decorated with tapestries and silks, much like Mr. Kim’s had been. But instead of a chaise lounge there was a chair, designed to look like a polished silver throne with a red velvet cushion. It wasn’t ostentatious or elaborate by any means, but still a seat designed for power, elevated above the rest of the room.
“Does this look like Mr. Kim’s place?” Tinker whispered.
The woman on the throne smiled.
She too wore Xia warrior garb, designed for her smaller form, customized with different artwork.
Her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail, sleek and beautiful. Her brown black eyes studied the trio in front of her, her pert lips set in a thin line of consternation as her Xia spread out to the sides of the room, leaving her new guests alone in front of the throne.
“You have entered occupied space,” the woman glared at them. “I will accept your unconditional surrender.”
“Surrender?” Tinker sputtered. “We came here to rescue you.”
“Do I look in need of rescue?”
He looked around at the Xia. Their carved masks stared back at him, images of distorted animals, gods and elements a tableau of distraction.
“I don’t know your life,” he said. “You could be into all sorts of kinky stuff. But I’m the pilot of that ship, and we’re taking you back in it.”
“Curious,” said the woman on the throne. “You refer to yourself as pilot and not Captain of the vessel.”
Mona Lisa looked at Tinker.
“She’s right, why don’t you ever call yourself Captain of the ship?”
Tinker crinkled his eyebrows and shook his head. He turned from Mona Lisa to Bat and back again.
“I fly the thing, isn’t that enough?”
“Junebug has been flying it,” Bat pointed out.
“Yeah, but I’m the pilot,” he insisted.
“Not the Captain.”
“Can we just drop it, okay?”
“Who is Junebug?” the woman on the throne snapped. “You left someone on the ship?”
She whipped around to the Xia closest to her.
“My instructions were to bring them all here.”
The Xia shrugged and barked an order to the man next to him. The words carried down the line and the last man in the row shuffled out at a jogging run to go check the cargo hold.
“Should we tell them it’s the computer?” Mona Lisa whispered.
“That guy would probably rip my console out,” Tinker said out of the corner of his mouth.
“Let them look,” Bat said in a low voice. “They will find an empty ship and waste time looking for her if they think she’s on the loose in here.”
“You will not speak unless spoken to!” the woman screamed.
“Look lady, I’m getting kind of tired of your attitude,” Tinker snapped back. “You could probably get more done with a please and a thank you instead of all the yelling. These guys know what I’m talking about, don’t you fellas.”
“That’s telling them Captain,” said Mona Lisa.
“Don’t call me that,” he said.
“How dare you!” the woman shouted. “How dare you speak to me in such a manner, you…you commoner.”
“Sweetheart, is that the best you can do? I’ve been called a lot worse. Hell, just last week, somebody called me a nerf herder.”
“What’s a nerf herder?” Mona Lisa smirked.
“No idea,” Tinker shrugged. “But I had suggested some really fun three way stuff with her and a friend. I thought she would be flattered.”
“Enough!” the woman stood.
“Finally,” Tinker sighed. “Time to get moving. Come on sweetheart, we’re on a timetable.”
“That’s not her,” Bat said.
“Not who?”
“Ming Ming.”
Mona Lisa studied the woman glaring at them from the throne.
“Right age, right height, acts like a spoiled brat,” she said. “Are you sure?”
Bat nodded.
“It’s a show,” he said.
The Xia sent to hunt for Junebug ran back in the room and chattered something into the ear of the head of the guard who turned to the woman standing in front of the throne.
“The ship is empty.”
“Search for her!” the woman screeched.
“It’s time,” said Bat.
All eyes in the room turned toward him. He pointed to one of the tapestries.
“Tell her to come out.”
“You will bow when you speak to me,” the woman stuttered.
But her shoulders seemed to shrink, and she cast a nervous glance at the wall.
The tapestry slid to one side and a slender, muscular woman stepped out from behind it.
She didn’t wear the Xia armor, but a thick flight suit that looked like reinforced leather. She did not look amused.
“It was a valiant effort cousin,” she said to the woman on the throne as she stepped up on the raised platform beside her.
“You are a hard man to fool,” she stared at Bat. “What gave it away?”
“I don’t share secrets,” he stared at her.
She was beautiful, sleek and by the hard look in her eyes, as deadly as her Uncle.
What she wasn’t, was kidnapped.
“They aren’t holding you against your will,” he said.
“Observant,” she answered and peeked over her shoulder toward the tapestry. “Is that it? You saw the curtain moving?”
“Hard to ignore the woman behind the curtain pulling the strings.”
Ming nodded and smirked.
“Clever,” she said.
“So I guess we’re here to rescue you?” Tinker addressed her. “But from what?”
He studied the Xia, the room.
The woman did not look to be in distress. In fact, she looked to be in charge, and he couldn’t wrap his head around why they had been sent to save her.
“Are we here to save you from yourself?” he asked.
“You are not the only observant one,” she smiled. “Excellent deduction, Captain.”
“Don’t call me that,” he said.
“Time to come with us,” said Bat. “We’re on a deadline.”
Ming held out her hand. Her cousin imposter pulled a sword from her belt and handed it to her, stepping back to give her room.
“And what if I do not wish to come?”
“We’ll make you,” Tinker threw out a challenge. “Well, he’ll make you.”
He pointed at Bat.
“She and I will just sort of stand back and watch.”
Ming smirked even harder, an arched eyebrow conveying her disbelief.
"If I come down there, I will destroy you," Ming snapped her slender fingers.
Eight of the Xia snapped into position behind her.
Bat moved one foot further back and adjusted the angle of his body so he was almost facing them sideways.
"If," he answered.
It made her pause.
One man standing up to her Xia. She knew their legend preceded them. Ming paid for an extensive PR campaign on the holonet to ensure their abilities were legend, a squad of bogymen to scare children into acting well.
It worked with criminals too, and the elements she had to deal with on a daily basis. The threat of her guard had been enough.
Until now.
She felt a surge of adrenaline tickle the small of her stomach just above her pubic bone. This man thought he was a warrior? This man dared?
Ming relished a miniature moment of pleasure at the thought of him groveling beneath her boots, begging for his life.
"Do not kill him," she ordered her men.
They rushed forward engulfing Bat in a wave of armor covered flesh and flashing blades.
It was over in a moment.
Ming gasped.
Her guards lay on the floor between her and the man, immobile and unmoving. Bat stared at her, his face impassive, his breath even.
"Are they dead?" she snorted.
What a waste, she thought.
"Come check."
She shook her head.
"My uncle will have your head for this."
"He is welcome to try."
That gave her pause. She stepped back and studied him.
"You don’t fear him?"
The impassive face didn't move. She had seen statues with better personalities. Her pert lip curled in one corner.
"And if I do not wish to go."
"I don't think it's up to you."
She lay a hand on the blade she carried at her waist.
"You are unarmed," she warned. "And my blade is hungry."
Ming didn't see him move. One moment, he was standing in front of her in a pile of unconscious guards, the next he was in front of her, the slender barrel of his taser gun pressed against the soft flesh of her neck.
"Lucky for me you brought a knife to a gun fight."
Then he smiled.
Her anger erupted and she lashed out with the sword in her hand.
Bat pulled the trigger and caught her as she fell twitching to the deck.
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE
“You’re just going to leave them there?” Mona Lisa stepped through the hatch and moved to the other side of the cargo hold at the NS-17.
“Junebug, prepare to detach,” Bat instructed as he followed, carrying the limp form of Ming over one shoulder.
“I’ll get us ready,” Tinker fumed.
He turned to the controls, but the hatch shut without him touching them and the engines hummed to life.
Bat lay Ming on the bench.
“They will be fine,” he said to Mona Lisa. “Once they wake up, they can make their way back to Mars. The bigger question is what’s going on here?”
“She didn’t seem kidnapped to me,” Mona Lisa agreed.
He shook his head.
“And if Mr. Kim possessed an FTL drive, why did we have to steal one?”
“Because she took it and ran away?” Tinker pointed to Ming as she began to stir back to consciousness.
“A possibility,” said Bat.
But he wasn’t so sure.
He stared at the woman as she blinked her eyes open and stared at the tight cargo hold around them.
“It is done,” she said and pushed herself off the bench.
“What’s done?” Mona Lisa asked.
Ming fumbled in the folds of her flight suit, pulled out a narrow cylinder. She pointed it at Bat and depressed a button on the side. It sent a laser blast into his chest.
He pounded against the bulkhead and flopped to the floor.
Mona Lisa screamed, Tinker raised his hands.
“Take me back to my ship,” Ming growled.
The engines died and the lights popped off on the NS-17.
“Ouch,” Tinker cried out as he slammed into the wall, and tripped over something.
Mona Lisa listened to him crash against the floor in a moan. She ducked in the darkness, closed her eyes tight against the bright flash the laser would make when Ming fired it again.
It didn’t come.
“Lights,” Bat growled.
The lights blossomed to brightness. Mona Lisa saw Bat towering behind Ming.
She turned, tried to bring the laser around to shoot him again, but he caught her wrist and snatched the cylinder from her hand.
"You're a regenerist," Ming said as she tried to back away from him.
Bat lunged and tased her again. It sent her reeling to the deck where she laid in silence.
"What did she call you?" Tinker stared.
"Nothing," Bat snapped.
Tinker slipped back against the bulkhead and tried to press into it, so hard he looked as if he wanted to go through it and into the vacuum beyond.
"I've heard of those," he gasped. "They're not real."
"That's right," Bat clipped.
He glared at Tinker.
"Shut up now."
"This is me, shutting up," said the pilot. "Junebug, do you have playback?"
"I record everything in the ship," answered the AI.
Tinker couldn't tell, but to him the AI sounded scared too.
"Don't," said Bat.
"Playback," Tinker called to the speaker.
"You're a regenerist." Ming's voice looped on the speaker.
Junebug played it four times and stopped with a digital squelch at the last one. Bat stood like a statue, impassive face unmoving, except for his eyes. His eyes roamed across the interior of the ship, to the speaker, to the pilot, to the cockpit doorway. Taking it all in. Assessing. Calculating.
"Help me get her up," he bent and scooped up Ming under one shoulder and waited for Tinker to move.
"Is it true?" Tinker eased closer to the limp body of their rescued princess to help, but still kept space between him and the guard.
"I said forget it."
Mona Lisa stood in the cockpit doorway.
"You said nothing," she said. "But the way you said it makes it sound like a whole lot of something."
"I have accessed it," Junebug announced.
"Wait," said Bat.
He dropped his half of the princess. It caused Tinker to stumble and pitch across the top of her on the floor.
Then he took his time getting up, hands squishing her soft parts to make sure she wasn't hurt in his fall.
"Pervert," Mona Lisa called out watching.
"A Regenerist is- classified. A secret government program designed to [redacted.] An initial test group of twelve subjects were designed to create the [redacted.] In the First War of Independence, the unit was deployed by the Martian government to [classified.]"
The AI sounded perplexed.
"I should be able to break the code on these files," she said through the speaker. "It is a simple substitution binary program, rudimentary in fact."
"Then tell us what's redacted," Mona Lisa still watched Bat.
She studied his eyes. His face may not show emotion, but she had noted his eyes flashing, pupils dilating, even tiny micro-movements at the corners that indicated what he was feeling.
Watching a man's eyes came from a lifetime of practice. She would usually see them travel all over her body, pausing at her crotch and boobs, all evolutionary, all also encouraged by her outfit, her stance and demeanor. She could study them unobserved as they observed her form, and it gave her an edge in negotiation, in strategy and prep.
Not so with guard, at least not in the few short weeks they had been together.
But his eyes now watched the speaker.
Mona Lisa couldn't be sure, but it looked almost like fear.
"I cannot," the AI stated.
Her digital voice sounded even more frustrated than before.
"I cannot break a simple binary cipher."
Mona Lisa watched Bat relax. Or at least the tight skin around the corner of his eyes.
"Work on it," she told Junebug. "You want to share with us? And for the God's, get the pilot off our cargo."
Tinker was still trying to get up, checking and resetting his hands to cop small half feels on the inert form on the floor.
Bat reached down and yanked him up by the collar of his jumpsuit.
"She would kill you for that," Bat warned him.
"Totally worth it mate," Tinker winked.
His fear of Bat seemed to have retreated.
"What have you heard about regenerists?" Mona Lisa stepped into the cargo hold.
The space was tight with four bodies inside, especially since Bat laid Ming out on the bench. Even though he curled her into a fetal position and tucked her arms in by her side, the cargo hold still felt full.
Mona Lisa settled onto the cushion at her feet, Bat squatted into the jump seat he had claimed as his own.
Tinker looked around for a place to sit, and couldn't find one, s
o he leaned against the wall next to the Captain's Quarters.
"We could move her in there?" Mona Lisa offered.
"She might hurt the still."
"We wouldn't want that."
"Damn right we wouldn't."
She watched Bat and glanced up at Tinker.
"Junebug?"
"I am here."
"Leave the puzzle for later. Right now, let's all talk."
CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR
They moved her against the bench, propping her up on the floor. She didn’t remain out for long, and when she came to, she glared at Bat with an almost palpable hatred.
“My Uncle did not share your origin with me,” she spat.
“Not his story to tell,” Bat answered.
“What is his origin?” Tinker asked.
His question drew her eyes away from Bat and she settled on the pilot with a look that made him shiver. Ming had the look of a cat on her smooth features. Lineless almost perfect skin on a face framed by jet black hair. She was beautiful and from what he knew of her, deadly. Merciless.
“He will not share his lineage with you?” she purred. “That is because he does not have one. A proper lineage.”
“What’s she talking about?” Mona Lisa said to Bat in a soft voice. “We’ve been through a lot together so far. Maybe it’s time we got to know each other better?”
Bat took a breath and she thought he was going to tell them something.
“I’d like to get to know you whole lot better,” Tinker leered.
Bat let out the breath.
“Damn it Tinker,” Mona Lisa snapped.
Ming grinned like she was enjoying the show.
"I am receiving a distress signal," Junebug announced making Ming jump.
"You have the AI," she glared at Bat.
"We have an AI," Bat corrected her.
"I need no correction from an abomination," Ming hissed. "This is the Advanced Intelligence my Uncle hired you to retrieve."
"Artificial," said Tinker. "It's ain't real."
The cabin lights dimmed and the hum of the engines went silent.
"What he meant to say Junebug is that artificial intelligence is no match for natural stupidity," Mona Lisa said.
Ming laughed.
The lights flickered back to life.
"Insults I cannot ignore," Junebug voice echoed in the speaker. "However, if you are suggesting the pilot has an intelligence deficit, I can allow latitude, much as I would a small child."
