Therefore I Am - Digital Science Fiction Anthology 2
Page 18
“Aye, well, those arse-monkies deserved that. Rossi here is just a kid. Let ’im be.” Diarmuid smiled grimly, and started downloading the flight instructions and codes into his hand-held so he could start the ship from the ground whenever Elsie showed up with the key. If she showed up at all.
He and the Siberian had run into a spot of trouble on the way up to the dock, but the big, quiet man had dispatched Little Rizzo and Big Rizzo before Diarmuid could so much as squeak, much less flee. He’d secretly taken a little sadistic pleasure in helping the Siberian haul their bodies into a side closet, the two bastards’ necks at odd angles and only a blissfully silent trickle of blood dripping out of each normally unstoppable mouth.
Cameras reprogrammed and codes entered, Diarmuid turned and motioned for the Siberian to follow him down the steep metal steps to the launch bay.
Crate upon crate of ambrosia, the drug harvested from the planet’s oceans, stood stacked three men high, waiting on the dock workers to load them into the gaping belly of the ship. Bloody ambrosia. It was what sustained the entire Family enterprise—a drug more powerful than any of the old world variety. Bliss in a tiny candy package. Diarmuid almost wished the ship had already been loaded, though it would have been tougher to steal at that point. A shipment of this size would be worth a fooking lot.
The door just behind them at the base of the long bay slid open and the Siberian yanked him behind a crate. It was only Elsie, however, and Diarmuid rubbed his arm once the giant let him go. That would likely bruise as well.
Before he had a chance to say a word to Elsie—who was grinning like a cat about to drown in a milk carrier—another door, this one over on the loading side of the bay, opened and six of the workers sauntered in, laughing and jeering. They had their hard-hats and gloves on, clearly about to begin loading up the shipment.
“Jaysus,” he muttered as Elsie ducked down behind the crates with them. “Key?”
“Here,” she said, handing it over. “Boss won’t be petting much nor needing that.”
“We go then? What about them?” The Siberian popped his head around the crate and looked at the men clustered by the far door.
“See that panel?” Diarmuid whispered, pointing across to where a big control panel was built into the wall. “This key goes into that flashing red slot there.” In plain bloody view of all those bastards, naturally.
Could the Siberian and Elsie get over there and take all those guys out? Maybe. Before one of them ducked through the door and hit the alarm? Likely not. The game was up.
“Put your teeth back out, Mickie.” Elsie chucked him under the chin hard enough that said teeth rattled against each other. “I can take care of those potatoes. You get the key in and boost our ride. Goofy here can stump his stilts and get on the ship. Berries?”
“She said to—” Diarmuid started to translate.
“Clear. I get to ship, she takes care of them, you insert key.”
Diarmuid swallowed, and wished he’d taken a longer piss before leaving his room for the final time that night.
“Elsie, ah, how will you—” he whispered to her, but she touched his lips and shook her head.
Standing up, she pulled off her dress, revealing a bouncy pair of anti-gravitational breasts and a large six-shooter gun. The relic. Diarmuid had heard that this was the pistol that shot some Family bloke named Hoffa centuries earlier. Elsie winked at him and tucked the gun behind her back.
“Those potatoes got no eyes,” she said, and then she stepped out from behind the crates.
Diarmuid waited until he heard the men whistling and calling out to her, and then he made like a rabbit and bolted for the panel. From the side he heard Elsie say, “Sorry, boys—this bank is closed.”
Six loud pops echoed around the bay, each followed by a scream and a thud. One poor sot kept on screaming. Diarmuid gritted his teeth and fumbled the key up into the slot, punching in codes on his hand-held. Heat and friction started dancing off the ship as the engines powered up and the magnets began to shift together.
“Go!” he yelled to Elsie.
They bolted for the ship nearly side by side and the Siberian helped pull them up into the quickly closing lift. Giving commands through his hand-held, Diarmuid raced up the central corridor toward the pilot’s bridge.
The ship sealed and pressurized, and the artificial gravity pressed in on them just in time for the magnets to engage fully and start sliding them out toward the far doors. The key had done its trick, and the thick metal was sliding open as they gained speed and barreled toward it.
Diarmuid strapped into the pilot seat and allowed himself a whoop. A dead body smashed down over the viewport as the docking bay depressurized and its contents were sucked out. Globs of the bastard’s blood sped ahead of them like parade balloons.
“Not a good death,” the Siberian commented as he dropped down into the co-pilot’s chair.
“They broke the first rule of Purgatory,” Diarmuid said, entering coordinates for the Beehive system into the nav computer.
“What is?”
Diarmuid smiled as Elsie, still naked, slid into the Siberian’s lap and planted a kiss on his cheek.
“Don’t ever underestimate Elsie,” said Diarmuid.
This time, the Siberian blushed. The engines engaged, and the ship torpedoed like one of Elsie’s pea-shooter bullets out into the vastness of space. For a moment, the vast water world of Arcadia appeared on the screen, and then the blue and white marble was gone behind them.
“Leaving Hell,” Diarmuid said, leaning back after punching the shielding down on the viewport. “Next stop: anywhere fooking else.”
Also by Digital Science Fiction
Science Fiction Anthologies
First Contact –Anthology 1
Therefore I Am –Anthology 2
Pressure Suite – Anthology 3
Heir Apparent – Anthology 4
Visions Imprint Science Fiction Short Stories
A Moment of Clarity
Vintage Imprint Science Fiction Classics
The Colors of Space
Table of Contents
Copyright Information
Preface
Tremors
Open Letter to Non-Robotic Sentients
Waiting Room
Breakers
Inchoate
El Camino
The Night We Flushed the Old Town
Fruitful
Out on a Limb
Nevermind the Bollocks
Also by Digital Science Fiction
Table of Contents
Copyright Information
Preface
Tremors
Open Letter to Non-Robotic Sentients
Waiting Room
Breakers
Inchoate
El Camino
The Night We Flushed the Old Town
Fruitful
Out on a Limb
Nevermind the Bollocks
Also by Digital Science Fiction