Paradox Slaughter

by Jake Bible

  Roak let the being go and focused solely on the incoming bots. He didn’t even turn when Yellow Eyes screamed.

  “I’m good. I’m good,” Yellow Eyes called.

  Roak double fired again and again, dropping two more bots. But the Flott wasn’t going to be able to fire enough to take them all out. The double firing was draining the energy cells fast. Roak could switch out for a new one, but he didn’t think he had the time.

  He tucked the Flott into its holster, powered up his gloves, and set his feet, ready to start punching some bots.

  As soon as the little machines reached him, they fell to the floor, scanned his power armor, and leapt as one.

  Roak swung hard and crushed one of the bots, but the rest made it onto the power armor. Roak threw himself against the corridor’s wall, crushing two bots at once. Their sparking bodies fell to the floor and Roak kicked them down the corridor to join the first fallen bot. Which was twitching a lot more. Roak knew it’d be repaired and up on its feet soon.

  A loud whirring by Roak’s right ear got his attention. He didn’t need a visual to know what the source of the whirring was.

  “Eat shit,” Roak said as he slammed his helmet against the rock wall, smashing the bot that had extended a cutter and was about to slice through the neck seal of his power armor.

  “Hey. I think I got it,” Yellow Eyes said. Right before he started screaming. “Get it off! Get it off!”

  Roak plucked a bot from his chest and slammed it into the rock then he spun, drew his Flott, and fired, hitting the cutter bot that was about to embed its blade into the top of Yellow Eyes’ skull. Yellow Eyes looked like he was going to faint as a wisp of smoke rose from the top of his head where the cutter bot had been a millisecond before.

  “Thanks?” Yellow Eyes said. “Uh, you still got a little something on ya.”

  Roak grabbed two bots and pulled them from his armor as their cutter blades came to life. He crushed one bot in his glove’s grip, but the other bot managed to shove its blade into Roak’s arm, sending shards of plastic and bits of metal alloy flying up into the air.

  Roak punched the bot over and over until the blade stopped whirring then he tore the bot from his arm and threw it to the ground, stomping on it until it was unrecognizable.

  “Uh, Roak, they’re waking up,” Yellow Eyes said as the bulkhead began to slide apart in two massive pieces.

  Roak was about to turn to all the fallen bots, but the sight on the other side of the bulkhead drew all of his attention. He slowly raised his arms into the air. Then he plucked a bot from one of the arms and crushed it before returning that arm back above his head.

  Yellow Eyes watched him and frowned then turned to regard the scene.

  There were at least three dozen thugs standing there, all heavily armed. None of them looked happy to see visitors.

  Yellow Eyes was grabbed first then Roak and they were yanked into the next corridor before the bots could regroup and attack. Then the bulkhead slammed closed and Roak started hunting for who was in charge.

  “Roak,” an unfortunately familiar voice said. “What a pleasant surprise.”

  “Mr. Wrenn,” Roak said as he locked eyes with the man. An average-looking man in every way. Average height, average weight, average physical fitness, average looks. Just average. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

  “Am I?” Mr. Wrenn replied, pointing a pistol at Roak. “Disappointed?”

  “A little. Yeah,” Roak said as Mr. Wrenn squeezed the trigger.

  14.

  Roak’s power armor froze solid and turned him into a massive paperweight. Roak tried to move his joints, but whatever Mr. Wrenn had shot him with had the suit locked down tight. Helpless, Roak felt himself teeter then fall over onto his left side, stiff as a board.

  “Yeah, no need to shoot me,” Roak heard Yellow Eyes say. “I’m just gonna stand really still right here on my own, alright? We cool?”

  Roak heard the pistol fire again then Yellow Eyes was in Roak’s sightline, his huge eyes blinking while the rest of the being stayed perfectly still.

  “Pick them up and bring them,” Mr. Wrenn ordered. “They begin to move then knock them out the old-fashioned way. Don’t kill them. I need Roak. And the yellow thing intrigues me.”

  Yellow Eyes’ eyes began blinking rapidly. He was obviously trying to communicate in some code, but Roak had no idea what it was. He knew most codes and whatever Yellow Eyes was doing wasn’t one of those.

  “Stop that,” a thug snapped and stomped a boot in Yellow Eyes’ face.

  The being’s features warped then went back to normal. A couple tears of pain leaked from the corners of Yellow Eyes’ eyes.

  Then Roak was lifted up so he couldn’t see the being any longer. All he could see was the ceiling of the corridor. Rows of halogens, cables, power conduits, and something else covered the ceiling. It took Roak a couple seconds to realize that what he was seeing were splashes of blood. Many splashes of blood, from all kinds of beings. It was like a rainbow had thrown up all over the ceiling.

  “Would you like to know how I survived, Roak?” Mr. Wrenn asked from off to Roak’s left.

  “Not really,” Roak replied. “Shit happens in this galaxy. You living is just more shit. That’s all.”

  Mr. Wrenn chuckled. “I forgot what a delightful conversationalist you are, Roak.”

  “You also forgot that I tend to get my way, Wrenn,” Roak said.

  “Mr. Wrenn,” Mr. Wrenn countered. “Being polite will dictate your future greatly, Roak.”

  “Never worked when I was young,” Roak said. “So, not gonna worry about it now.”

  “Despite your lack of interest, I will tell you my story, Roak,” Mr. Wrenn said.

  Roak sighed as loud as he could.

  “Did you know that consciousness still exits when one’s body is atomized?” Mr. Wrenn asked. Roak didn’t respond. “I asked you a question, Roak.”

  “I thought it was rhetorical,” Roak responded. He sighed again then said in a monotone voice, “No, I did not know that consciousness still exists when one’s body is atomized. Please tell me more.”

  Mr. Wrenn chuckled.

  “I am unsure if the phenomenon was singular to me or if any being can do it, but I retained my sense of self even as my physical form was torn apart down to the molecular level. Quite painful, I should add. I would not recommend the experience.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind next time I think of blowing myself up.”

  “Except I did not blow myself up!” Mr. Wrenn shouted. He cleared his throat and chuckled again. “My apologies. I lose control of my temper so easily these days. A side effect of the experience.”

  “Is this a long story?” Roak asked.

  “It is as long as it takes,” Mr. Wrenn said. “But, no, it is not a long story.”

  The thugs carrying Roak stopped and he heard the sound of a keypad being operated then the sound of another bulkhead opening. The thugs started walking again and Roak stared at the bulkhead frame then a new ceiling. There was a lot less blood on the new ceiling.

  “There I was, atomized, my bits and pieces floating in open space along with the rest of the debris from your destroying of my Gan Shan Station.”

  “Live by the Void House, die by the Void House,” Roak replied.

  “Oh, I like that,” Mr. Wrenn said. “I shall have that tattooed upon my body somewhere. I have recently begun to decorate my skin like some native on one of those primitive planets. I feel the act is cathartic. A new, fresh beginning with every prick of the laser.”

  “Great,” Roak said. “I’m glad you found a hobby. Now finish your story or kill me. I know which one I prefer.”

  “I was floating in open space, unaware that I was no longer me, but a version of me that was fractured into millions upon millions of separate pieces,” Mr. Wrenn continued. “Then something happened that transcended any known experience in the galaxy. I was consumed.”

  Roak waited, but Mr. Wrenn did not co
ntinue.

  “Alright. I’ll bite,” Roak said. He took a deep breath then let it out. “Consumed?”

  “I was devoured by an entity and was reborn,” Mr. Wrenn said. “I was nothing, I was everything, then I became me once more.”

  “Oh, that, yeah, that’s a molecular restructuring life form known as a Monk Whale,” Yellow Eyes said. “Man, Monk Whales are funky guys, right? They eat you up, put you back together, then out you go, a new you pooped into space. Monk Whales like to party, too, in case you ever come across one. They love to drink spent fuel cleaner. Gets them high as the stars, man.”

  No one said a word. The party walked on for a while before Mr. Wrenn cleared his throat.

  “I was not pooped out into space,” Mr. Wrenn said. “I was reborn.”

  “No, man, sorry, but what happened was the gastric juices of the Monk Whale combined with your DNA,” Yellow Eyes said. “Then that combination sought out similar combinations until all your parts were gathered into a single glob of you gunk. You were reassembled as you passed through the whale’s intestines. Then it pooped you out and you were whole again. I’ve seen it happen before. A little messy, but pretty Eight Million Gods damn cool, right? Right?”

  “Stop talking,” Roak warned.

  “Why? He was telling the story wrong,” Yellow Eyes said. “Sure, it’s like a miracle, but so are flushing toilets in space. That shouldn’t be able to happen, yet someone, somewhere, created the whole gravity drive tech and now beings can do their business and flush it down just like they were on a planet. Miracles, man, miracles.”

  “Then please, Mr.…?”

  “Yellow Eyes.”

  “Of course,” Mr. Wrenn said. “Then explain how my consciousness was able to survive my death, Mr. Yellow Eyes.”

  “Nah, just Yellow Eyes,” Yellow Eyes said. “Like Roak here. No mister needed.”

  “Keep my name out of this conversation,” Roak snapped.

  “Explain the survival of my consciousness, Yellow Eyes,” Mr. Wrenn demanded.

  “Oh, that? Man, that’s easy. Were you near any type of cerebral matrix? One of those highly advanced androids or something like that?”

  “I was not,” Mr. Wrenn said smugly.

  “Marley,” Roak said. “You were taken out by Marley.”

  “What’s a Marley?” Yellow Eyes asked.

  “An AI that evolved into a flesh and blood being,” Roak said. “But he was still an AI even though he had a mushy brain instead of a cybernetic one.”

  “There ya go,” Yellow Eyes said. “Marley ceased to exist, but the cerebral matrix that was holding his consciousness within the flesh brain expanded and held your consciousness to some of those itty bitty person particles. The you that was you got caught in a cerebral matrix net. You got lucky, man. If that hadn’t have happened, then you’d be dead dead. Not to mention how lucky were you that a Monk Whale came by? Buy one of those Galactic Lotto tickets as soon as you can. I’m not kidding.”

  “What are you?” Mr. Wrenn asked, sounding half-exasperated and half-intrigued.

  “That’s the question, right?” Yellow Eyes asked. “Want to hear my dumped into space story? I got one of those too.”

  “No,” Mr. Wrenn said. “Set them down.”

  Roak was set down on a table. He tried to turn his head, but he was still frozen solid. He couldn’t even look over at Yellow Eyes. All Roak could do was stare up at the ceiling.

  “You coming here was always part of the deal, Roak,” Mr. Wrenn said. “Your dear friend, Bishop, assured me that you would be able to track him through the galaxy and that trail would lead you here. I had completely lost faith after the unfortunate incident that occurred.”

  “Your corporate buddies double-crossed you,” Roak stated.

  “Yes, they did,” Mr. Wrenn said. “After my miraculous reassembly.”

  “Not really a miracle, but whatever,” Yellow Eyes interrupted.

  “After my miraculous reassembly,” Mr. Wrenn started again. “It took me some time to find friends I could trust. Shilo Syndicate had basically ended with my reported death. It still existed, but so much smaller than before. All of the hard work was lost and it was like starting from scratch. In order to start from scratch, I needed financing.”

  “Yeah, I don’t care about all the details, Wrenn,” Roak said. “You partnered with a corporation and they funded your return to syndicate glory. Good for you. Then you made some deal and the deal went sour. Now you’re hiding from killer bots in what’s left of this rock. Plans didn’t turn out how you wanted, you’re pissed, and you are going to take that anger out on me. How about we skip the preamble and get right to it, Wrenn? Can we?”

  “Would you like to know your friend Bishop’s role in all this?” Mr. Wrenn asked.

  “Sure. Why not. What is Bishop’s role in all this?” Roak asked, indulging the madman.

  “I cannot say the exact details of his servitude, but he apparently owes the CEO of my partner corporation so many credits that even his grandchildren would be in debt their entire lives,” Mr. Wrenn said. “In order to pay off that debt, Bishop was asked to destroy you. Not to simply hand you over, but to destroy you. You angered someone greatly, Roak.”

  “That doesn’t exactly narrow down the suspect list,” Roak said. “What’s this CEO’s name? I’ve done a lot of crappy things in my life, but I don’t remember a CEO of any corporation that I’ve harmed so much they would go to all this trouble to destroy me. Doesn’t sound very corporate to me.”

  “Oh, no, the CEO was hired by someone else,” Mr. Wrenn said. “I am unsure who that someone else is. Bishop knows. He was taken from here by an unknown entity just before the bots began their rampage of this base.”

  “So Bishop is still alive?” Roak asked. “Any idea where he might have gone?”

  “I have no idea,” Mr. Wrenn said. “Not that it would matter if I did. I plan on torturing you to death, so that knowledge would be useless to you anyway.”

  “Then you won’t mind telling me the name of the CEO that set all this shit up, will you?”

  “Him? A Mr. Dej Ha’taka,” Mr. Wrenn said. “A pompous Groshnel. What an annoying race Groshnels are. All those arms and legs, eight I believe, and all that gulping of air to keep their invertebrate bodies solid. Inferior creatures, in my opinion.”

  “You should work in a museum, man,” Yellow Eyes said. “You totally explained what a Groshnel is like. I could picture it in my mind.”

  “Will someone kill that thing? I have grown tired of its chatter,” Mr. Wrenn ordered.

  “Hold on, hold on,” Roak said. “Kill the guy later. You haven’t told me what corporation this Ha’taka is CEO of. I’d like to know that.”

  “Why? You know the man’s name, so what does the name of the corporation matter? It is not like you will be leaving here to track the Groshnel down.”

  “I beg to differ on that, Wrenn,” Roak said. “I plan on walking out of this asteroid pretty damn soon.”

  “Is that so?” Mr. Wrenn laughed hard. “Oh, Roak, despite your attempt to kill me, I do like you. Full of fire!”

  “Yep, that’s what I’m full of,” Roak said as the index finger on his right hand twitched. “Fire, fire, fire. So…the corporation?”

  “I cannot see the harm in telling you,” Mr. Wrenn replied. “Tanji Corporation. They are a biotech firm that specializes in custom work for wealthy individuals that would like to transcend their current forms. Very experimental. Not always successful, but when is there ever reward without risk?”

  “That another rhetorical question I’m supposed to answer?” Roak asked.

  “No.”

  “Good. And thanks for the name. That’ll help a lot after I kill all you assholes. Yellow Eyes?”

  “Yes, Roak?”

  “Can you move yet?”

  “Yes, Roak.”

  “What?” Mr. Wrenn exclaimed.

  “Care to kill these bastards for me?” Roak asked. “I’m getting a little
wiggle, but not enough to be effective in a combat situation.”

  “You can only move a finger, right?” Yellow Eyes asked.

  “Just shut up and kill everyone,” Roak said.

  “No!” Mr. Wrenn shouted. “Kill both of them now! Now! Kill them!”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Roak saw a yellow blur. There were screams and shouts followed by several loud thunks as bodies hit the floor. Roak waited patiently until Yellow Eyes’ face appeared in his faceplate.

  “Hello,” Yellow Eyes said. “Still frozen?”

  “Pretty much, yeah,” Roak replied.

  “Here, let me help you up,” Yellow Eyes said.

  Roak’s body was forced to bend at the waist and he screamed as the process felt like he was being ripped in half.

  “Sorry,” Yellow Eyes said, making sure Roak was steady as he sat up on the table he’d been placed upon. “Still hurt?”

  “Not after you stopped trying to break me,” Roak said. Then his eyes went wide and he barely managed to turn his head to look at Yellow Eyes. “You left him alive?”

  “I thought you might want to keep talking,” Yellow Eyes said. “That’s why we’re here. For intel, right?”

  “Right,” Roak said with a sneer. ‘“Help me down from this table. I need to walk this shit off.”

  “You bet, Roak.”

  15.

  “You can’t kill me,” Mr. Wrenn said as he clutched at the stump where his right arm had been. Blood seeped through his fingers, but he didn’t look like he cared. He looked like he had been given the greatest gift ever. “I will come back even stronger than before.”

  “Man, you ain’t coming back from shit,” Yellow Eyes said. “Monk Whales don’t migrate anywhere near this part of the galaxy.”

  “I told you it was not a Monk—!”

  Mr. Wrenn’s shouting was stopped by Roak’s gloved fist hitting his face.

  “Ignore the yellow guy,” Roak snapped. “Focus on me, Wrenn. What else do you know about all this? Bishop isn’t working for you, and despite what you said, he isn’t working for some corporate CEO. Who’s at the end of this hunt, Wrenn? Who is doing all this shit to me? Who in all the Hells has my chits?”