by Jake Bible
All eyes fell on Veben.
“Re-fresh-ments,” Veben said slowly. “I. Am. Hungry. And. I. Could. Use. A. Drink.”
All eyes returned to Loch.
More wide-eyed staring from the captain.
“Refreshments are an excellent idea,” a voice said from off stage. Then Pol, in Ested’s body, walked to Loch and patted the captain on the shoulder. “Finish what you have been sent up here to say then you can coordinate the serving of refreshments.”
“Can’t the bots handle that?” Loch asked.
“Do you want to ask that question again, Captain Loch?” Pol replied.
“No, sir,” Loch said. “Ladies and gentlemen, I will need you to begin the process of freeing up your fortunes for transfer. Not the entirety of your fortunes, but the majority. I am sorry that it has to be like this…” Loch glanced over his shoulder at the black hole and shivered. “But it has to be like this.”
“Why?” someone shouted. “Why would we transfer our fortunes to you?”
“Kill that one,” Pol said.
A bot raced through the crowd and speared the man through the abdomen. There was a loud whirring and blood sprayed everywhere as the man’s intestines were wound like pasta around a spike and yanked from his navel. The guests started screaming and hurried to get away from the atrocity.
“Quiet!” Pol roared. His voice was amplified over the ship’s PA. The crowd went quiet, other than some gagging and a few sobs. “Good. Now, Captain Loch, will you answer the question?”
“Mr. Hammon’s tech was to be auctioned off, but that has changed due to my unforgivable duplicity in the matter,” Loch said. “Instead, you will transfer funds to an account, the number of which will be provided to you shortly, and those funds will pay for your safety. Everyone that pays will be allowed to remain onboard the M’illi’ped. Those that do not pay will be ejected out into space. You will be shot into the black hole.”
Loch took a deep breath.
“I believe paying the funds is a good idea. I have already transferred what credits I possess to the account.”
“Extortion?” Sno called out. “You’re going to extort these people, Pol?”
“Agent Prime,” Pol replied. “I’m giving you a pass, Agent Prime. No death by bot for you. But please do not interrupt these proceedings again. You and I will speak later once the fun is over.”
“Fun? Pol, we need to talk now,” Sno said.
“Love. Don’t,” Veben warned.
“Agent Prime, I have great affection for your friend, Veben Doab,” Pol said. “But even though she was shown mercy before, that does not mean she is above being harmed. Continue this interruption and I will have her legs hacked off with the dull side of a floor scraper.”
One of the bots at the side of the deck lifted the floor scraper up so all could see. One side looked incredibly sharp while the other side looked like it would get stuck slicing butter.
“Continue,” Sno said.
“Thank you,” Pol replied. “Captain Loch, why is paying a good idea?”
“You stay on the ship,” Loch answered.
“And not paying is bad, why?”
“You are ejected into the black hole,” Loch said.
“Ah, that is not quite correct,” Pol said. He held up a finger. “Let me demonstrate.”
The dead man with his bowels hanging out disappeared. Part of the view window became a separate screen, zooming in to show the dead man’s corpse being sucked into the black hole. He was there for only a blink of an eye before he was gone for good.
“Moltrans,” Pol said. “No, I am sorry, that is a very rudimentary way of putting it. My tech is so much more as many of you know and were prepared to pay for. That was until Captain Loch here sold us out to the Skrang instead for his own profit. Stupid move, Captain Loch.”
“Yes, yes, a stupid move,” Loch agreed. “I did try to call them off, but—”
“Shhh,” Pol said.
“Yes, of course, shhh,” Loch replied.
“For those that do not know, what I have invented is a new form of interstellar transportation,” Pol said. “No longer will ships need to wait in a queue for their turn through designated wormhole portals in each system. No, that is the old way. With my new tech, ships can go from one point in the galaxy.” Pol snapped his android fingers. The synthetic skin made a dull thudding noise, not a crisp snap. He shrugged. “From one point in the galaxy to another just like that. No wormhole portal needed, no relying on each system to maintain said portals. And no more transit charges from the GF. That’s a big one there.”
Sno raised his hand.
“Now you’re learning,” Veben said.
“If people pay, what are you going to do?” Sno asked. “Transport this entire ship away from Mlo? Is that what the extortion is paying for?”
“Away from the black hole? That would be quite the reward,” Pol said. “But, no, that isn’t a great enough threat.”
Klaxons began blaring again.
“Ah, the real threat is here now,” Pol said. “Who wants to die at the hands of the Skrang? Anyone? No?”
He clapped his hands together.
“Then get those transfers ready, people!”
32.
As the crowd of guests began arguing with each other, their spouses, partners, lovers, companions, servants of convenience, Pol left the stage, his android eyes on Sno. The crowd parted like the red sea, no one wanting to be closer than a meter to the mad tech in the deadly machine.
“Agent Prime,” Pol said. “I know this must be confusing and infuriating to you.”
“He killed Velly,” Sno stated, his rage barely contained. “Loch shot her in the head. She has no head, Pol. I watched it disintegrate in the blink of an eye.”
Pol studied Sno for a moment then nodded.
“That is unfortunate,” he said. “He should not have done that. I have since straightened out Captain Loch, so I can assure you that will never happen—”
Veben slapped the android across the face then yanked her hand back and tucked it into her body.
“Holy shit!” she yelled. “Ow! Eight Million Gods damn OW!”
“Has my real body expired yet?” Pol asked.
“It has,” Sno answered as Veben shook her hand over and over, checking it to make sure it wasn’t broken.
“I will miss that body,” Pol said. “It served me well for so many years.”
He patted himself. “But this body will be so much more appropriate. No need for food or water. No bothersome bodily functions to interrupt important work. Superior strength and speed. Not to mention a brain that has the capacity of the universe.”
“Don’t start with the God thing again, Pol,” Sno said. “You really can’t pull it off.”
Pol shrugged. The shrug looked humorous on an android; stiff and precise.
“We shall see, Agent Prime, we shall see,” Pol said. Then he turned his attention to Veben. “My darling, what can I say to make this better? To make this right with you? We made plans. Those plans can still happen.”
“I am not thinking they will ever happen, you little shit,” Veben said. “Our plans were simple: you sell your tech to the highest bidder and we disappear with all the riches. This?” She gestured at his android body. “This was not part of the plan. Neither was murdering half the crew and extorting the guests. We get the credits, you said, and live out our lives in luxury and anonymity. That can never happen now, you slime bag. The GF will hunt you until your cybernetic circuits fizzle out and die.”
“This brain does not work on cybernetic circuits,” Pol said. “How it works is—”
Veben punched him in the faux nose. She screamed and pulled her hand back, shaking it all over again.
“Worth it,” she gasped as Sno gave her a pitying look. “So worth it.”
“Loch betrayed us, darling,” Pol said.
“Stop calling me that,” Veben snapped. “Not going to happen.”
“You do
know that this body can be modified any way you would like it to be,” Pol said. “Enhanced and improved. Better than flesh and blood. If you catch my meaning.”
Veben made an exaggerated gagging sound and feigned throwing up. Even though none of the guests were closer than a couple of meters from her, they all backed away quickly. Veben straightened up, brushed at the top of her dress, and gave Pol the finger. Sno couldn’t help but notice the finger was immaculate and manicured to perfection. V was always V even in a life or death crisis.
“Never going to happen,” Veben said. “You will have to spend your credits on your own. All alone out there in the big, bad, dark galaxy. Not a friend around you.”
Pol was very quiet and very still.
“V, perhaps you two can discuss this later,” Sno said, pointing at the ceiling. “At the moment, we have a Skrang problem to deal with.”
“Yes, we can discuss this later,” Pol said. “When you’ve had a chance to think this through.”
“Oh, I’ve had plenty of—” Veben started, but Sno placed a hand on her shoulder and she snapped her mouth shut.
“How do you plan on getting us out of here, Pol?” Sno asked. “Black hole in front of us, Skrang behind us. This ship was not built for battle. It has incredible shielding so that it cannot be hijacked.”
“Too late,” Veben said.
“But other than the shielding, it has no other defenses. No anti-torpedo cannons. No plasma grid. No remote fighters.”
“Ah, yes, about the fighters,” Pol said. “I was anticipating the arrival of the Skrang. I had hoped that Ms. Tarcorf would be with us, but she is not. I have a feeling we can find some decent enough pilots to help with the effort while these lovely people finish their transactions.”
Pol clapped his hands and the huge observation deck went almost totally silent.
“Two quick announcements, people,” Pol boomed. His voice was amplified through the ship’s PA again. “First announcement is that I need all money transfers to be finished within the hour. No exceptions. As you can tell by the screeching noises in your comm implants, attempting to call or alert anyone about your situation is pointless. Your only means of communication is between your banking interface and your banks. I would advise bringing up those holo protocols and get to swiping ASAP.”
Terrified stares and gaping mouths were his answer. Pol sighed and it made shivers go up and down Sno’s spine. Androids should not sigh.
“Second item of interest is that the Skrang have brought some serious firepower,” Pol said. He swiped his hand up towards the ceiling and a holo projection filled the air. “As you can see, the Skrang are not messing around. Those are two heavy battleships. Destroyer class, if I know my Skrang classifications. Not as large as the Galactic Fleet destroyer class, but equally as deadly.”
Pol tapped his left ear.
“They are currently hailing us and insisting they speak to Captain Loch,” Pol continued. “Such foul language they are using. And those guttural Skrang voices. Ugh. I am not pleased that I am having to listen to them.”
The holo projection zoomed in on the Skrang destroyers. They weren’t racing towards the Mip, but holding steady close to the wormhole portal they came through. But a second later, Skrang fighters began pouring out of the destroyers. The battleships weren’t carriers, so the number of Skrang fighters was only a small percentage of what they could have been, but still, Sno counted close to twenty-five fighters leaving each destroyer and heading straight for the Mip.
“Since I have been a gracious host, and allowed you all to have an hour for the money transfers, that means we will need to hold off these fighters during that hour,” Pol said. “Agent Prime here has volunteered to lead a group of pilots to do just that: hold off the fighters for an hour. I will need more volunteers, so those of you with combat experience, please step forward.”
“Volunteered, eh?” Sno said, but Pol ignored him.
No one stepped forward from the crowd. Pol shook his head.
“I have everyone’s records up here,” Pol said, tapping at his head again. “If I start calling names, then you forfeit your chance at survival. More importantly, your loved one or loved ones forfeit their chance at survival. Volunteer and I guarantee the safety of those that are onboard this ship with you.” Pol grinned and several of the guests shrunk back involuntarily. “And the safety of those that are not on this ship. All of your records are in my mind. All of them. Including family records. Should I begin announcing their residences to make my point?”
Murmurs began to circulate then a dozen beings of various races began to separate themselves from the other guests.
“Wonderful,” Pol said. “That is, let’s see, twelve plus Agent Prime. Lucky thirteen. When this incident is written about, that should be the name assigned to you brave souls. The Lucky Thirteen.”
Pol turned to face the stage where Loch was still standing, looking completely lost.
“Captain Loch?” Pol called.
“Yes, sir?” Loch replied instantly.
“I will leave you to oversee these fine folks,” Pol said. “I expect the industrious movement of funds to continue unabated. They now have fifty-three minutes. Please make sure everything progresses smoothly. My bot friends will ensure that no one leaves or gets out of hand. All you have to do is confirm transfer of funds. Are we clear on your duties, Captain?”
“Crystal clear, sir,” Loch said and saluted. There were a few quiet snickers in the crowd. Loch lowered his hand. “All will go as you desire, sir.”
“I like the sound of that,” Pol said. He returned his attention to Sno then the dozen volunteers. “We shall move this discussion to the bridge then.”
Pol snapped his fingers.
Sno’s world disappeared. He felt a pull just behind his navel then his head exploded, reassembled, exploded again, reassembled, and he was no longer on the First Class observation deck. Sno’s stomach did a hundred backflips before calming down and he bent over, unsure of whether he was going to throw up or not. When he straightened, he was standing on the bridge with the rest of the Lucky Thirteen and Pol.
A single cleaning bot was mopping the floor, leaving streaks of technicolor blood here and there before circling back to take care of those. The rest of the bridge was spotless.
“Excellent work,” Pol said and patted the bot which was only a meter tall. “You take pride in what you do, I can see that. You may finish later. Leave us.”
The bot chirped and retreated through a hatch in the wall, leaving the Lucky Thirteen and Pol to stare out of the view shield at the two far-off Skrang destroyers and incoming Skrang fighters.
Pol sharpened the resolution and zoomed in on the fighters.
“Twenty-five fighters,” Pol said. “Skrang fighters, so they are not light ships that can be destroyed with a couple taps from plasma cannons. Which is fine since I do not need you to destroy them, I only need you to hold them off until the hour is up and the ship can be moved.”
Sno cocked his head, but didn’t speak up. Pol had played part of his hand. The hour wasn’t for the guests to be able to transfer their funds. The hour was for something else. Pol needed the hour in order for his plan to be complete. He had figured out that Loch had betrayed him, but he wasn’t ready for the repercussions of that betrayal. Pol needed more time.
“We’ll most likely die out there, Pol,” Sno said. “I’m a good pilot, but I am not a combat pilot. I doubt any of these men and women are either.”
“I flew sixteen combat missions for the GF Marines back during the War,” a Shiv’erna woman said. Shiv’ernas were a lithe race, humanoid but with elephantine proboscises. The woman’s proboscis raised slightly, aimed at Pol. “I can handle myself in a ship. But do you have ships that can take on Skrang fighters?”
“No, there are no ships aboard that can take on Skrang fighters,” Pol said, sounding bored and irritated. “Like I said, all I need you to do is stall the Skrang for the remainder of the hour. You do no
t need ships equal to the Skrang fighters to do that.”
“We only need ships with strong enough shielding that we can divert their attention away from the M’illi’ped,” a Spilfleck man said. “Do we have access to ships like that?”
Pol grinned. Everyone stiffened, but no one recoiled. Sno began to reassess his assumptions of the guests on the Mip. They weren’t all soft and scared oligarchs. Some had grit and guts.
“I do have ships like that,” Pol said to the man. “I have removed the shielding from several ships in order to strengthen the shielding on fifteen ships. We only need thirteen, so we are in luck.”
“But no weapons?” a Gwreq woman asked. The suit she wore clashed with her stone-grey skin, but the way she held herself made it clear she neither cared nor was it wise to point that fashion fact out to her. “Not even plasma blasters?”
“No weapons,” Pol said. “Unfortunate, but there was no time to outfit the ships with weapons. The shielding will have to do.”
“And if we hold off the Skrang for the remainder of the hour?” Sno asked. “What then? You let us land back on the Mip and we escape? How exactly can you do that, Pol? The ship is caught within the black hole’s field of influence. The Skrang are blocking the wormhole portal. Can your tech truly get us free of the Mlo System?”
“My tech can get us free of the Mlo System,” Pol said. “And all of you are welcome to return to the ship once the hour is up and I call you back.”
“If we survive,” Sno said.
“Well, yes, that would be a prerequisite,” Pol said. He pointed a finger at the Shiv’erna woman. “To make this easier on all of you, I will give you numbers. Remember them. You are One.”
He ticked off numbers as he pointed at each being. One was the Shiv’erna woman. Two was a human male. Three was a human female. Four a Slinghasp female. Five the Spilfleck male. Six a Tcherian male. Seven a Leforian female. Eight the Gwreq female. Nine a human male. Ten a Groshnel male. Eleven a Dornopheous male. Twelve a Slinghasp female. And Thirteen was Sno.
“I’ll go by Agent Prime,” Sno said. “I’d rather not be called Thirteen.”
