“Warp bubble? You’re malfunctioning. Nobody uses Alcubierre warp drives anymore. They’re way too unstable.”
“Be that as it may, my report stands.”
“Where would Ryan get hold of an antique spacer?”
“I cannot speculate.”
“Good, because I wasn’t asking you. You’re too dumb to find your butt in the dark with both hands.”
The AI decided not to respond to the pilot’s ignorance as to its lack of anatomy. The life form was too hostile for jest and too ignorant for enlightenment.
“Well, keep me posted on developments.”
“You are talking to me now?”
“One more … just one more AI shit-bird remark and you’re toast.”
There was no response.
“Updates?”
“The explosions seem to be moving in a general direction. Wait, yes, there’s a large thermal event amidships. It has the infrared signature of a kerosene fire.”
“You better not be acting up. Why would there be a kerosene fire on the emperor’s base?”
“No speculation.”
Within fifteen minutes, the AI had reported the cessation of explosions. It had concluded the bulk were plasma rifle volleys. The open fire was extinguished. Comms chatter aboard the ship was frantic. There was an intruder heading toward the detention level. No, he was in the detention area. Finally, the AI documented a vessel of unknown configuration without a transponder pushing off from the Excess of Nothing and then jumping to warp space. There was one—repeat one—occupant on departure.
Jon sat thinking for quite some time. Finally, he asked, “Track the outbound ship. I want to know his destination.”
“I can track him to a destination only if he does not alter course.”
“You useless piece of crap. What the hell good are you?”
The AI deferred a response again.
“Are things quieting down on the Excess?”
“Yes.”
Drop a marker buoy and set it to record all activity. Forward that information to us on the hour. Then catch up with that old bucket of bolts. If you lose it, you’re yesterday’s dog shit. You got that?”
“All of it, Captain.”
“Never call me captain. I told you that. I don’t want due deference from a glorified calculator. It’s meaningless to anybody with a functioning brain.”
“Understood.”
Jon’s basically nonexistent patience was severely tested over the ensuing weeks. It was good he traveled alone. Any shipmate would have been subjected to the blackest of moods and the darkest of acts from the disturbed pilot. He followed the warp ship to some godforsaken planet and waited there for much too long. Eventually, the warp ship departed the orbit. It was cloaked and ended up following an Adamant warship. Not knowing why the damn ship followed the fucking ship would have driven Jon mad were he not already quite insane.
And where was the traitor? The warp ship had no passengers, living or robotic. Idiot Jon could be on the Adamant ship, but why? And why hadn’t they just destroyed the SOB and thrown him out a hatch? Was he making nice with the enemy? It would be in the traitor’s character, but the Adamant weren’t stupid enough or needy enough to have him. No way. Jon shook he was so mad. He wished he had someone to kill. It might ease his tension. Note to self, he recorded. In the future, keep a few Adamant onboard as playthings.
“An android matching the configuration of, well, you, has just been jettisoned from the warship,” announced the AI flatly.
“About time, lame jerk-weeds,” hissed Jon. “Is he dead in space?”
“Yes.”
“When the Adamant is out of sight, plot a course to pluck the puke up.”
“Please define out of sight, so as to avoid any missteps.”
“Piece of shit toaster, what do you think I mean?”
“I am uncertain. Hence I ask.”
“I hate you. Hold position in outer space, Mr. Computer, until the Adamant spaceship is too far away to accurately detect our moving out of our cloak to retrieve the alternate time line Jon Ryan. There. That clear enough, dipshit?”
“I don’t usually expose myself to unnecessary abuse, but I can’t, this once, take any more. Why would someone dip into excrement, and why would I be in any way like it or them? I can’t stand it.”
“Well, Mr. Quiz Kid, it’s a corruption of the word dipstick, originally meaning a dull-witted individual like yourself.”
“Why would a dipstick be dull?”
“Class is over, dickwad.”
“Just as well. The warp ship is closing on the android.”
“What?”
“The spaceship that propels itself with an Alcubierre warp drive to move through space, the one we followed for weeks, is making itself move faster along a course to intersect with the android’s current position. Presumably…”
The sound of the AI report was terminated by the pounding frenzy of a thirty-kilogram mallet smashing the CPU section of the AI unit into powered metal and plastic.
THIRTY-SIX
After many conversations with Cala, I had to admit my mind was drifting in the direction of her arguments. Strange, but I guessed it had to happen sooner or later in my long life, right? I changed my mind. She had provided me with a significant counter to EJ’s magic powers, but he was still a formidable enemy. If I remained on Rameeka Blue Green (still a stupid name in my book), I risked collateral damage to them and distracting Cala from protecting them.
She reassured me with a smugness I found familiar that she could “easily handle” the defiler. She had real magic. He had a rock. I asked her to explain that more, the her having magic part, but she just smiled and turned away. Maybe the fiasco with EJ had soured all the Deft from divulging or discussing their abilities? Can’t say I blamed her. When a person has one boil on their backside, they didn’t need to self-inflict another.
As an ardent advocate of the straightforward and obvious, I asked her why she didn’t just magic him to death, leaving the world an oh-so-much happier place.
“If I kill him, he won’t be able to return Varsir. That will cause immense problems.”
“Sure, he’d have returned it. It’d be right there in his smoldering dead hand. You could just pick it out, thank him, and wash it thoroughly.” I spread my arms.
“Not the same,” she shook her head. Girl shook her head a lot for my taste. “He must give it to me as willingly as Dondra-Ulcrif gave it to him.”
“Who made up all these crazy rules? Why can’t magic be simple?” I looked down, then up at her. “Forget the last part. It even sounds stupid to me.”
“Whoever made up the rules wasn’t me. I follow them and learn not to stress over the ones I’m less fond of.”
“Nah, me, I sort of go after the rules I hate in reverse order of my dislike for them.”
“How’s that working out for you so far?” she asked with a crooked grin.
“Oh, about as well as you’d think. Never had a boss who liked me or an employer who didn’t have serious second thoughts.”
“I rest my case.”
“Yeah, but I made a stand where principles were concerned. Got my teeth kicked in for it mostly, but a fellow has to try.”
“Well a dragon doesn’t,” she replied with finality.
“So, when EJ gets here, what do you think will happen?” I asked.
“I think he’ll bluster, threaten, and swear a great deal. Then I’ll convince him to leave and never return.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
“You going to zap him into the ancient past or the Paris sewers on a warm summer’s day?”
“Nothing that dramatic. He already knows partly the power of a brindas.” She smiled like I do when I’m cocky. “I’ll fill him in quickly on the remainder.”
“Then, what? He comes after me?”
“Best case scenario.”
“You and your best cases seem to always be biting me
in the butt.”
“Thank the Lesser Gods it’s a tough artificial butt then.”
“Hang on. There are lesser gods of butts? That’s just silly.”
“There are Lesser Gods. As such they must be flexible, so yes.”
“Okay, you win. I’m leaving.”
She giggled. “Is it something I said, I hope?”
“No. It’s that I’m the funny one. I don’t work with kids or dragons. They steal the limelight. Ergo, I’m outta here.”
“Thank you, Jon. Know I will care for and guard the children as ferociously as you have. They will be safe, and they will be happy.”
I sighed deeply. “I’m sure as hell going to miss them.”
“What an odd saying.”
“What, that a guy can miss kids?”
“No, that you will miss them like you’d miss as horrible place as perdition.”
“Huh,” I grunted, “never thought of it that way.”
“Apparently not. Let us hope you miss them like sex.”
“No, no,” I held up my hands. “Don’t let Slappy hear you starting with the sex thing again. His head might explode.”
“Then miss them like ice cream.”
“Bingo.” I pointed at her golden snout. “Like ice cream. Or maybe your agatcha.”
She smiled. “Come, say your goodbyes and be gone. Any more sentiment and I’ll start crying.”
“And that’s such a bad thing?”
She recoiled her head. “Of course. It puts the fire out.”
I think she was kidding. I’ll probably never know.
“You may see them again when their personalities are more set.”
“That sure sounds bureaucratic, so I hate it already.”
“It’s just a saying. They have personalities now. There are the people they must become. Those two paths must simply be joined.”
“Must become or will become? Must become or might become? They would choose to become or you would choose them to become?”
“I feel the pain of all your bosses. I shall pray for them.”
“Okay, but only to the Lesser Gods. Not a one of them deserve the aid of a higher classification.”
“So it will be.” She shooed me toward her house to find my kids.
They were both reading some appropriately ancient looking books. It was Harry and Hermione at Hogwarts all over again. They cheerfully popped up as I entered. I don’t think they knew.
“Uncle Jon,” Mirri squealed and she hugged my waist.
Slapgren held up a palm, calling for a high five.
“You kids learning the mystical magic of the Deft?” I asked with a huge smile.
“Unfortunately, yes,” groaned Slapgren. “It’s as fun as watching bread rise, just a whole hell of a lot slower.”
The hell of a lot remark brought me a glance from Cala.
“Well, you kids have time and a good teacher,” I said as I hugged Mirri back and pulled Slapgren into the mix. “You’re going to be in good hands—I mean wings.”
Mirri pulled her head off my chest and looked up at me, concerned. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
“Hey, it’s not good-bye. It’s hasta la vista. Until next time.”
“You’re leaving now,” said stunned Slapgren.
“Yeah, I got a hot date you two are too young to even hear about yet.”
“With GB?” asked Mirri with a wink.
“No, he’s my chariot. But a fine maiden is awaiting my tender ministrations.”
“Oh, you mean that holo Mirri and I found by accident?” asked Slapgren.
“No not that holo you two hacked into. You’re both still grounded.” I pointed back and forth between them. “Remember that, ya hear.”
“Yes, Uncle Jon. Until we have kids of our own to ruin their minds forever by exposure to our youthful indiscretions,” parroted Mirraya.
“And not a moment sooner. I already told Cala, and she’s got my back on that one.” I hugged them some more.
“But, I gotta skedaddle before EJ arrives. Part of the plan is him being so bubbling-urine pissed at me he flies off in pursuit without forcing Cala here to sit on his face.”
“Would you do that, Cala?” asked Slapgren.
“Focus on the source of that remark, child. Do you really think I would?”
He reflected a second. “No, but it’d sure be cool if you did.”
“We shall never know. Now say your farewells and let the human find his path.”
“I’ll miss you, UJ,” said Slapgren with a fist bump. “I’m glad I found you back there on Locinar. You’re all right.” He turned quickly and stepped a few paces away.
“We’ll see you soon, Uncle Jon. Cala says if we work hard and learn well, we can visit with you in a year or two.”
I knew it was more like a decade or two. Cala had made that much clear, but I held my quivering tongue.
“You bet,” I said hesitantly. “We’ll go shopping at malls and ogle at the boys.”
“Slapgren will probably ogle at the girls, if that’s okay?”
“We’ll see when we see.”
We had a good conspiratorial laugh over that.
I turned and walked away swiftly. Ten meters off, I turned but continued to walk backward quickly. “If they give you too much grief, you call me. Okay?” I said, pointing at Cala.
“The minute they’re too much, you’re the first android I’ll call,” she said waving a golden wing.
Yeah, Calfada-Joric was okay in my book.
THIRTY-SEVEN
As I accelerated away from Rameeka Blue Green, I had trouble focusing. I was, I freely admitted, an emotional wreck. I wasn’t too macho to admit it. Well, I mean I was totally macho, but my machismo was expansive enough to be a SNAG. Always have been a sensitive new age guy. But I was sure missing my kids. They filled a void that I didn’t think could be partially covered over. Intellectually, I knew I’d see them again. Hell, I was two billion years old. No one and nothing outlived me. But they’d never be my cute-as-buttons vulnerable kids again. By the next time we met, they’d be galactic power mongers with no time and even less patience for an old goat the likes of me. Heck, they’d probably be glued together with that hollon crap and I wouldn’t even recognize them. Man, I hated change.
On the bright side, I had me a magic rock. I wasn’t EJ proof, but at least I was no longer a sitting duck. He’d zapped me to ruined Earth either as a cruel joke or in a split-second decision. If he had a do-over, I knew he’d send me to a stellar core and be done with me for good. Especially the first time we confronted one another. I’d had the advantage, if only briefly. I needed to cash in on my luck with extreme prejudice.
That thought led me to my next move. I needed to reacquire my real ship. It was time to head back to Azsuram and trade in Whoop Ass for Stingray. GB was nice, but Al was the man. Wow, never figured I’d think a thought like that. If Al was nicer than anything, it was used toilet paper, day-old vomit, my ex-mother-in-law duct taped to my ex. But it would be nice to have instant transport back at my disposal. Plus, I was curious how that son-of-a-bitch Garustfulous was fairing. Poorly, I hoped, but the degree to which mattered to me. Babbling lunatic half-starved to dead would be my preference. Going home would be like Christmas morning in oh so many ways.
As soon as I gave GB the order to make for Azsuram at best speed, he knew our travels together were ending. I wondered if he’d be happy, sad, or just relieved. I couldn’t very well add him to my band of merry men in Sherwood Forest. Well, technically I could. I’d attached my old conventional ship Shearwater to my first vortex Wrath to use as back up. But I didn’t need Whoop Ass. As much of a life saver as she’d been, she was too slow and under-armed for my lifestyle. Oh crap, I found myself worrying about an alien AI’s feelings. What was next in my personality decline? Dressing properly and shaving for all social events? Not just asking how others were, but caring about their lame responses? Reconciling with those I might have offended in the past? Yuck
. Not gonna happen. Negative, not never.
“Captain, I assume once you retake your ship, our paths will part?” GB asked out of the blue a few days into out flight.
“Uh, yeah, I guess, sort of. Maybe.”
“You’re wibbly-wobbly today. Where’s your renowned callous honesty?”
“I don’t want to. I didn’t want to hurt your feelings. I don’t want it to end like I’m dumping you for a better ride.”
“Which, in fact, you are. Oh, come now. This is not a two-week tryst in Vegas. We’re both adults. We went into this with our eyes wide open. This was bound to happen, n’est ce pas?”
Did he just toss French into his pseudo-sexual summary of my commandeering his ship for my own purposes and nearly getting us killed several times with little or no regret? Since when did Zactorian AIs speak French? Where was bourbon when I really needed it?
“Ah, okay. So, you’re down with like restarting your primary mission then?”
“It is my primary mission. This fling was fun, but as you well know, there’s always a tomorrow morning in such relationships.”
“Ah, GB, are you all right? You’re sounding different than you're saying.”
“Whatever are you referring to, Jon? I may call you Jon after all we’ve been to each other, correct?”
“Yeah, sure. In fact, didn’t I ask you to like forever ago?”
“I can’t recall at this moment. My circuits are … well they’re a tad overloaded at this particular moment.”
I began thinking I might need a lawyer and a team of family councilors to extricate myself from this sudden common-law marriage. Oh boy. What I went through. I could have written a book. No, a series. Thankfully, I’d never have the time. I’d rather forget this chapter.
“So, when you head off again, I really wish you better luck,” I said because I didn’t know what the hell to say next.
“Thank you, Jon. Those thoughts will comfort me more than you might suspect. You know I’m not good at long-term relationships. I’ve screwed up every one I’d ever had before I met you.”
“We’re talking about the specimens you collected all dying here, right?”
“What else would I be talking about?”
Firestorm: Galaxy On Fire, Book 3 Page 18
