Pew! Pew! - Bad versus Worse

by M. D. Cooper

  “Well, I’m going to get my beauty rest,” she said, then frowned. “Oh, fudge bars, dagnabbit. I’m gonna get some muffin crumbs—argh!”

  Ramsey bit a piece of his carrot off and stepped back from the doorway. “I’ll leave you be, then, princess.”

  Cindy growled at him, and the colonel only winked as the door closed.

  ACCEPTANCE

  “OK…uh…ladies,” Ramsey said as the team assembled in the airlock.

  “Whoa! What does that mean?” Cindy asked. “We’re all all-woman, here.”

  “Ehhh,” Vampy said, holding her hand out and wobbling it side to side. “Kitty here has a lot of feline in her; not sure if you’d call her ‘all’ woman.”

  “And I read the Jujubilee™ comics,” Kitty added. “She was turned by the blood of a male vampire. So Vampy’s not exactly ‘all’ woman, either.”

  “I am too!” Vampy exclaimed.

  Cindy snorted—daintily—and sighed. “Well, I’ve got extra amounts of woman here, so I balance you out.”

  The colonel rubbed his face with his hands and shook his head. “Stars, I wish I’d never said that. Look, I was staring at Kitty here when I stuttered. Can you blame me?”

  “Yup.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “All the time.”

 

  Ramsey shook his head. “Where’s Porty, does he want to gang up on me too?”

  Girl said.

  “Speaking of that,” Ramsey said, looking Cindy up and down. “Do you think you should go out in that poofy dress? If the Fairly Goodmothers learn that you have the Glass ShoesAlso-Not-TM, they may be displeased.”

  Cindy looked down at herself and sighed. “Oh, drat. If I don’t keep it in mind, it reverts.” She concentrated, and the outfit changed to the sparkly catsuit.

  Vampy shook her head. “I really don’t get how that stupid theme world has tech like this. If we didn’t have Porty assuring us otherwise, I’d think it really was magic.”

  “Let’s just get in there and get the blood,” Ramsey said as he pulled the carrot out of his mouth and watched it revert to its original state. “Everyone have their supply company order? Remember, we don’t mention the other supply companies. If anyone cross-checks these orders, we’re going to throw red flags. The only legit reason to get this much blood is if you’re going to war.”

  “Why don’t we just get the blood delivered?” Kitty asked.

  “Because three of the supply companies use the same delivery service,” Vampy replied. “We hoof it.”

  “I hate hoofing,” Kitty said. “I prefer to prrrrrowwwwl.”

  “Oh, for peanut butter’s sake,” Cindy said—then groaned as Vampy and Kitty laughed.

  “Let’s go,” Ramsey said and cycled the airlock.

  The team stepped out into the docking bay, and Cindy bit her lip, feeling exposed and self-conscious. Normally her muscles and bad attitude kept her aloof and safe; no one wanted to approach BAMF if they didn’t have to.

  CinderellaNot-TM, with her sparkling white catsuit, was a different matter entirely.

  “Kitty, you’re going up to Sweep 11, right?” Cindy asked.

  “Surrrre am,” Kitty replied as she angled right, cutting across the docking bay.

  Cindy worked to keep up with Kitty, who was far more comfortable walking in heels than she was. “Mind if I come along? I need to get up to Sweep 14.”

  Kitty cast a sidelong look at Cindy. “Why you being so nice to me? Usually you’re…well…not nice at alllll.” She added pulsating sound to the last word that grated on Cindy’s nerves for a moment.

  Cindy tried to stay angry at Kitty, but she couldn’t. The slinking black CatWoman™ was just so innocently enamored of life and everything around her that Cindy couldn’t stay mad at her.

  How someone could dress in a glistening black catsuit, carry a long, coiled whip, yet gleefully skip along in ten-centimeter heels was beyond her. There was something magical about it.

  Gah…this whole Cindy thing is really getting to me. Kitty, Stick, whatever, she’s a fool. A good pilot, but still a fool.

  Cindy looked down at her sparkling white outfit.

  And you’re a fool, too.

  A dockworker whistled and catcalled Kitty, to which the CatWoman™ responded by whistling back and slapping her thigh. Cindy, on the other hand lowered her face into her palm.

  “See, that’s your problem, Cindy,” Kitty said, glancing over her shoulder. “Your glass isn’t half full; it’s missing the bottom. Pretty much everything has an upside, if you look for it.”

  “I can think of stuff that doesn’t have an upside,” Cindy muttered.

  “I said ‘pretty much everything’,” Kitty pointed out. “Problem is, you look for the downside. You just did it—looked for a way my statement was false. Me? I like to look for the fun, the wonder in everything. The universe isn’t going to change for you. You have to change to find the way to make the most of your situation.”

  Cindy snorted, or at least gave a dainty sniff. “What if your situation sucks?”

  “Then change it the best you can. But you have to find a way to be satisfied. You can’t be anything and have everything. I’ll never be the President of the AST—”

  “Not looking like that, you won’t,” Cindy interjected.

  Kitty laughed. “No, but I bet I could get a lot of those senators to come by for a visit and spill their secrets to little ol’ Kitty.”

  Cindy tried to give her lips a wry twist, but could tell they formed a lovely smile instead—which irritated her to no end. “You might just have a future in political espionage.”

  “If I were dumb enough to go back to the AST,” Kitty said. “Seriously, though, I just like living life and enjoying things as they come.”

  “Doesn’t seem like much of a plan,” Cindy said after considering Kitty’s words.

  They walked out of the bay and onto the main thoroughfare that ran around the perimeter of the station. Various people in Disknee costumes could be seen in the crowds. Not too many CatWoman™s, but quite a few CinderellaNot-TMs, which made Cindy feel a smidgeon more comfortable.

  “So what’s your grand plan for life?” Kitty asked. “Because if it’s to be the muscle on a ship like the Van, then you had it made—stars, you still do, from what Girl was saying about your weights. So why the bad attitude? What makes you so angry all the time?”

  They wove through the crowds toward a bank of lifts, and Cindy considered the question. What does make me angry all the time?

  She honestly didn’t know. Getting arrested by the military for a crime she hadn’t committed had made her angry, but she’d been angry before that. She’d always been angry.

  Maybe it was just a way for her to feel safe.

  This is way too much introspection. I need to hit something, and soon.

  “I think I liked being angry,” Cindy said aloud to Kitty. “And now I’m a bit sad that I can’t seem to remain angry. But then I’m having trouble staying sad, because apparently Cindy doesn’t get apple dumpling sad.”

  “Apple dumpling?” Kitty asked with a laugh as they stepped onto a lift.

  “You know what I mean,” Cindy replied and managed a momentary pout.

  Kitty tapped her chin as the lift began to rise. “You know what I think, Cindy? If this whole thing is permanent, or close enough to it, you need to find a new way to be angry…some new thing that gives you the same rise as anger did before.”

  “Well, it’s not going to be se…se…cretaries.”

  Kitty frowned. “Secretaries?”

  Cindy replied privately.

  Kitty laughed and slapped Cindy on the shoulder as the lift slowed to a halt at her level. “True enough. No secretaries for us. I’ll see you back on the ship.”

  Cindy smiled and waved. “Back on the ship.”

&
nbsp; She got off the lift three levels later and walked down the thoroughfare in the direction of the supply shop she’d been assigned.

  As Cindy threaded the crowds, she realized the strangest thing.

  People weren’t avoiding her.

  In fact, they were making eye contact and smiling at her. Cindy couldn’t stop her dumb lips from smiling back. It was infuriating. At least for a second or two.

  When she reached the shop, there was a short line to speak with the only salesperson present, and Cindy heard a pleasant whistling sound. It took a moment for her to realize she was the one whistling.

  Waiting in line and whistling a tune while I do it? I should be staring down each and every one of these fools to get to the front, not happily waiting it out.

  Still, she didn’t stop whistling, and she didn’t so much as give anyone else a dirty look as she waited ten minutes for her turn.

  “You supposed to be Cinderella?” the woman at the counter asked. “I didn’t know she wore pants.”

  “It’s not exactly pa—” Cindy began, but the woman interrupted her.

  “Yeah, I get it, what do you need?”

  “It’s order 865,” Cindy said. “I submitted it on the way over.”

  “Eight…sixty…ah, there we are, 865. Damn. That’s a lot of blood. You planning on getting into a fight?”

  Cindy giggled. “Well, not me.”

  The woman glanced up from her holodisplay and let out a coarse laugh. “Yeah, clearly.”

  Cindy had half a mind to grab the woman by her stupid green pigtails and mash her face into the desk. Then they’ll see who needs blood.

  She didn’t do it, though. Porty had warned them that there were often Fairly Goodmothers on Most Eisley Station, and it wouldn’t go well for her to be caught with the Glass ShoesAlso-Not-TM on the way out of the Disknee™ System.

  “What’s your name?” the woman asked.

  Without thinking, Cindy replied, “Cindy.”

  “Real cute. Seriously, though.”

  Cindy drew an unsteady breath. “Baa…AMF.”

  “Banff? Like the ski resort world?”

  “No, Baammmffff.”

  “Really? B-A-M-F?”

  Cindy nodded, hoping that would be the end of it.

  “Weird, what’s it mean?”

  “Baaa…eutifully alluring marvelous friend.”

  The woman chuckled as she reviewed something on her screen. “I can see why you’re considering Cindy.”

  Cindy pursed her lips but didn’t respond as the woman looked over the order.

  “OK, it’s getting loaded up in a crate. Do you want it delivered, or are you going to take it back with you?”

  “I’ll take it,” Cindy replied. “We’re heading out as soon as our ordering is done.”

  “OK, that’ll be an extra sixty for the hoverpad rental.”

  “What?” Cindy tried to sound as intimidating as possible, but her voice just got squeaky instead of angry.

  The woman peered up at Cindy with a sardonic twist to her lips. “Yeah, pad rental; I don’t see a hoverpad with you, and the crate’s ninety kilograms. Unless you’ve got more mods than it looks like, I don’t see how a spindly thing like you is gonna carry your order.”

  “I don’t need a pad,” Cindy retorted.

  The woman shrugged. “Fine, but when you drop that crate and packets of blood spill everywhere, get broken open, and the station charges you a biohazard cleanup fee, don’t come crying to me.”

  Cindy did her best to drop her voice an octave, which only served to keep it from rising in pitch. “I don’t cry.”

  “Sure, whatever. Customer Pickup is through the door around the right. Next!”

  “Have a nice day you…barn swallow,” Cindy muttered as she stalked around the corner and through the door to Customer Pickup. She walked down a long corridor and into a cordoned off area at the end of a large warehousing room.

  A man stood near the door, surrounded by holodisplays that he was flipping through at break-neck speed.

  “BAMF?” he asked as Cindy walked in.

  “Yup, that’s me,” Cindy squeaked.

  Fiddlesticks, I give up.

  “OK, bringing your crate in. Huh…there’s no pad rental on here. Did Belinda mess up and not offer you one?”

  “No,” Cindy said with a long sigh. “I declined it.”

  For the first time, the man paused and looked past his holodisplays at Cindy. “Seriously? You? In heels?”

  A hoverbot floated through the air with a crate in its arms, which it set down beside Cindy.

  “Yeah,” Cindy replied tersely—and squeakily.

  If I’m going to squeak, I need to work on my angry squeak.

  “This I’d like to see.” The man waved the bot off. It detached from the crate but remained hovering nearby.

  Cindy crouched down and lifted the crate with relative ease. It was still somewhat ungainly, requiring her to stretch her arms out as far almost as far as she could to firmly grasp the handles, but she was sure she could manage well enough.

  Her right ankle wobbled a bit as she adjusted her footing, and she reconsidered, wondering how hard it would be to walk back to the ship in heels.

  The man grunted in appreciation. “Wow, those must be some good mods you have—took you for more of a ship’s companion than muscle.”

  “Yeah, well, looks aren’t everything.”

  “Sure, OK, princess.”

  Cindy felt her face redden at the comment. The man was right; to everyone else, she’d look like someone clearly modded to be strong, while still looking like a pretty princess.

  With a careful pivot on her heel, Cindy turned to walk back the way she came, but the man called out, halting her.

  “You can’t go that way. Cargo can’t come through the front office.”

  “What?” Cindy said, glowering at the man from over her shoulder.

  “Gotta go out the back. Company policy.” He pointed down to the other side of the warehouse.

  “You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” Cindy asked.

  The man only shrugged and waved her off as another customer entered the cordoned-off end of the warehouse.

  She stalked—cautiously—to the exit at the other side of the warehouse. The deck was grated in places, and she carefully avoided those…which was easier said than done, with the crate obscuring her view.

  As she reached the wide exit, she turned to see the man and his next customer—a woman who looked a lot like Cindy used to—watching her.

  Cindy scowled at them, about the only thing she could do, and walked out of the warehouse. A security arch scanned her, and then the outer door opened on a busy concourse.

  Haulers trundled down the center, while pedestrians rushed past on either side. This wasn’t the bright and shiny side of Most Eisley station, the area catering to Disknee vacationers who were getting a few final tchotchkes before leaving the systems. This was where the work got done. It was dirtier—though still cleaner than most stations Cindy frequented—and the people walking past were dressed in shipsuits and station maintenance uniforms.

  Cindy drew in a deep breath and stepped out into the crowd, working her way back toward the lift bank so she could get back down to Sweep 3 where the Van was docked.

  She could feel the eyes of everyone around, staring at her as she muscled the crate through the crowd. Some were checking her out, a few were chuckling to see a waif of a woman carrying something so ungainly, while more than a few made catcalls.

  No one had ever catcalled BAMF.

  It made her angry, and even though Cindy wasn’t the sort of woman to beat the crap out of someone for that sort of behavior, BAMF certainly was. She’d been BAMF just yesterday, and vividly remembered what it had been like.

  Yet somehow she managed to restrain herself, focusing on just getting back to the ship so they could leave this fluffing system.

  One thing is for certain: when we get back to the Van, I am go
ing to grill that dwarf on everything he knows about these damn shoes.

  She reached a corridor that would lead her back to the lifts, and was about to turn down it when a voice called out.

  “Can’t go down there, Princess.”

  ‘Princess’ may just be the thing that brings the BAMF out in me. Like with that big green guy. Mulk, or whatever his name is.

  She turned to see a station security officer approaching her.

  “Why not?” Cindy asked.

  “You can’t carry cargo on the main thoroughfares. Station policy. Ruins the ambiance.”

  “The ambiance?”

  “Yeah, this is a theme station,” the guard said, looking at Cindy like she’d lost her mind. “You know, the Most Eisley port from the Space Wars movie?”

  Cindy had to admit she hadn’t even noticed. Apparently, she was more wrapped up in her situation than she’d thought.

  “Uh, yeah, sure.”

  “Right,” the guard said with a nod. “You have to take the freight lifts. They’re a quarter klick further down the concourse.”

  “Seriously?” Cindy whined.

  “Yeah. Why don’t you have a hoverpad or a bot?”

  Cindy blew out an angry breath. “Because!”

  The guard chuckled as Cindy stomped off in the direction he’d indicated.

  Five minutes later, she was on an empty lift headed down to Sweep 3, glad to be out of the crowds. Cindy set the crate down and sat on it as the freight lift slowly descended through the levels.

  Stars…this is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. She leaned her head back against the wall and sighed. Is this what life had always been like for Lashes? I wonder if it’s better for her now. Will she scare people off, or just attract more?

  The lift passed level four, and Cindy rose and hefted the crate once more. She walked to the door and waited for it to open. It didn’t.

  The lift proceeded past Sweep 3, then past Sweep 2.

  Going to stop at one? Cindy wondered. She tried to make a call out to the station emergency line, but her Link access cut out.

  The lift then passed below Sweep 1 and opened at what the readout listed as Sub-Level A.

  Out of habit, Cindy tried to pass her destination to the lift control over the Link, but the message hit a wall at the edge of her mind.