A yandoc stage was just beyond the sagisi auction. It was just as rambunctious as its neighbor. The yandoc pink worker flew above the stage and the audience flew with her. A tornado of horny yandocs swarmed around the stage. One of them suddenly got carried away and made the mistake of grabbing the pink worker mid-flight. The following chain of events occurred in the blink of an eye. The pink worker screeched, three of the roving spotlights zeroed in, the tornado scattered, and the offending yandoc released his grip... but it was too late. Three bright white energy bolts cut him to pieces. The hammang blue workers here were not as forgiving as their counterparts in the bar. They had expensive investments to protect.
The business of the pink marketplace went on as if nothing happened. Even the yandocs went back to their flying dance. I carried on as well.
I was getting close to the back of the room. A set of double doors marred the wall up ahead. A booth, much like those in the silver marketplace, was beside the doors. Two hammang blue workers operating standard energy-rifle-with-legs exoskeletons flanked the booth on either side. The shadows were too deep to see what was sitting in the booth but I did not need to. I knew who was there... it was the second snot I had come to Evelin’s Café to see.
I approached the booth. The blue workers stepped into my path and brought their weapons to bear on me as I closed in. I kept my hands visible just in case the gun-wearing phlegm-wads were extra jumpy today. The sentries did not speak... I did not know if their exoskeletons were even equipped with language devices... but the energy rifles pointed at my midsection made their message clear enough. I stopped a few feet in front of them, making an effort not to look at the guns. I stared straight at the gooey bag of pus perched on top of the walking weapon on the right.
“I need to talk to Tran,” I said.
“Let it through,” a voice said from behind the blue workers. It was the high-pitched voice of a young human girl. It sounded like she was about four or five standard-years old. There was a trace of a lisp in the voice, enough to give the impression of youthful innocence but not enough to warp the words.
The guards stepped aside. I sat down in the booth across the table from Tran, the owner of the voice and the head pink work administrator at Evelin’s Café.
Tran was a bloated and particularly disgusting hammang. Its pus-filled flesh overflowed the lip of its exoskeleton and hung down in jiggly rolls. Its exoskeleton was a metal bowl that was supported by ten spindly limbs. Eight of the limbs were bent beside it, knees pointed upward, as it rested on the bench. It looked like some hideous half-slug/half-spider, lurking in a dark corner, ready to lunge at any prey stupid enough to get too close. Its two remaining limbs were resting on the table, clutching a small black sphere. The sphere had a knob on the side and a tube coming out of the top of it and running straight into Tran’s flesh, through a hole that had been cut in its membrane. The wound had not healed well. A thin stream of pus oozed out of the seam between the tube and its flesh. I could see the end of the tube through Tran’s translucent skin, suspended in the sickly-yellow pus of its innards like a drowned snake.
“Well, well... if it isn’t Odd Jobs. Did you make a wrong turn at the silver marketplace?” Tran said. Its speaker was obscured by one of its rolls of goo, giving the little-girl voice a muffled quality and exacerbating the lisp inherent in the program.
“I’m looking for a young human girl,” I said. I wanted to make this quick. I did not like hammangs under normal circumstances and this one was an especially creepy specimen.
“We’ve got lots of those. Are you looking for something in particular or will any type do?” Tran said. Then it giggled... a high-pitched tee-hee that might have been cute if it had come from an actual little girl and not from an ooze-filled pimp and slaver with a sick taste in voice programs.
I placed my holo-identifier on the table and turned it on. A miniature Penny McKellen appeared above it.
“This girl was snatched ninety standard-days ago,” I said. “I’m interested in purchasing her. You’ve either got her or you know who does.” Evelin’s Café did not have the only pink marketplace in the spaceport... far from it... but it had the largest and its staff kept itself well-informed about what merchandise was available. If innocent, little Penny McKellen had been sold into pink work, Tran would know about it.
Tran used one of its limbs to twist the knob on its sphere. It glowed to life and a puff of smoke came out of the end of the tube inside Tran. The smoke slowly dissipated in the pus, expanding and losing density until it was all but absorbed. A few wisps of smoke managed to reach the inner walls of Tran’s membrane. They seeped through unseen pores and disappeared into the darkness above us. A smell like rotten fruit wafted past my nose.
“I know your reputation. You can’t afford to buy any of the merchandise in our stable.” Tran giggled again.
“Does that mean you have her? I represent a third party. I can arrange for payment. My client will pay new prices, even if she is slightly used.”
“This item is a bit more than slightly used.” Tran giggled again, for several seconds longer this time. That was getting on my nerves.
“Cut the shit, you swollen sack of slime! Do you want Evelin to find out that you turned down an easy profit?”
Tran turned the knob on its hookah and pumped another puff of smoke into its guts. It was quiet while the plume dissipated inside it. I assumed that it was thinking over my offer. Finally, after that smell of rot blew past my nose again, Tran spoke.
“This item is not for sale... only rent. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some business to attend to in the back rooms.”
“Don’t walk out on me, motherfucker!” I seized one of the limbs that were gripping the sphere. The blue workers reacted immediately, spinning around and aiming their guns at my face. I released my hold on the limb and sat back in my seat, ever so slowly.
Tran scooped up its hookah. Its eight remaining limbs straightened, heaving its obese body up above them. “Don’t do anything stupid, Odd Jobs. I would hate for Mister Steven T. Jenkins to lose such a loyal customer.” Tran emitted that twisted little-girl giggle again. Then it scurried out of the booth and through the set of double doors leading to the back rooms.
The blue workers relaxed once the doors shut. I slowly slid out of the booth, keeping my hands visible, and moved past them. I walked aimlessly, unsure of my next move. I had run into a dead end. I knew where innocent, little Penny McKellen was, but I could not get to her. My brain searched for options but found none. I finally resolved to go see the McKellens, to report my findings. Maybe they would have better luck buying their daughter back.
I shook the indecision from my mind and started walking back toward the bar area... then suddenly stopped short. A stage was directly in my path. I was on the outskirts of a group of about fifty human males, all shouting and whistling and waving money at the stage. There was a human female onstage. There was nothing striking about her. She looked like an average pink worker... twentyish, brunette, decent figure, and bare-assed naked. Then a glint of light from a spotlight reflected off her face. I squinted, trying to get a better look at what had caused that twinkle, and I saw that she was crying. I decided that there was a better option than going back to the McKellens emptyhanded.
I got off the beaten path, merging with the crowds, moving casually so as not to draw any attention from security. I kept an eye on the doors Tran had disappeared through. The blue workers had abandoned Tran’s booth and now flanked the double doors like sentries, one on either side. Every few minutes, a pink worker or two accompanied by a customer or several would approach and the doors would open, swallow them up, and close behind them. It did not look like the blue workers were manning the controls. They stood still, like gargoyles sculpted by a schizophrenic artist in the grip of a permanent LSD trip, their weapons pointed dead ahead.
I drifted through the crowds, keeping my head pointed at the entertainment but my eyes trained on the doors. The creatures in the v
arious audiences took no notice of me. They were too horny to see that one lone human was only faking what they felt in earnest. The security spotlights swept to and fro, not focusing on any one thing. It was business as usual as far as the blue workers above us were concerned. No one was crossing any lines at the moment. I crept onward until I was at the edge of the mob surrounding the last stage before the back wall. I judged that there were about ten paces of open space between me and the doors.
I did not have to wait long. The pink marketplace at Evelin’s Café did a brisk business. Two human female pink workers approached the doors. Five human males wearing the coveralls of common brown workers followed a couple steps behind. They passed where I stood. I drew my revolver from its holster and held it under my coat. The sentries did not move and the spotlights did not seek me out... so far so good. The pink workers and their customers passed between the blue worker sentries. The doors slid open.
I moved.
I broke from the crowd and sprinted toward the doorway. The blue worker sentries reacted immediately. Their pus-bag organic bodies that were visible above their cybernetic legs jerked in surprise. At the same time, the energy rifles sticking out of their midsections like giant constant boners pivoted toward me. I was a couple of heartbeats away from being at the cross-section of an X formed by deadly white light. I had to do something to unfuck fate.
I did not slow my stride. I brought my revolver up from under my coat and fired at the sentry to my right. I immediately brought my arm across my body and fired at the one on the left. I had always been a good shot, when my body was not vibrating from opioid withdrawals, and the range was point blank. The rounds caught each of them in the center of their pus-bag organic bodies, punching small holes in their fronts, passing through their insides, and blowing larger holes out their backs. Yellowish gelatinous snot spurted out of the holes like they were oversized popping pimples. The wounds did not kill them... hammangs could lose a lot of snot before they deflated completely... but it disoriented the fuck out of them. Their rifles went wild, jerking every which way and firing blindly into the crowd.
All hell broke loose in the pink marketplace. Stray energy bolts tore through the mob, blowing holes through larger creatures and cutting smaller ones in half. The audiences scattered. The chaos began at the closest stage and quickly infected the next and the next and the next, spreading across the room like a wave of pandemonium. The confusion had infected the staff as well. The blue workers behind the security spotlights did not seem to know where to focus their attention. The lights zipped around, firing blasts into the melee at random.
I ignored the slaughterhouse I had instigated. The fuckfest behind me was Evelin’s problem. My problem was ahead of me. Some blob in a control booth somewhere had hit the button to close the doors to the back rooms. I lunged forward, shouldering pink workers and customers out of my path, and slipped through the opening a second before the doors slammed shut.
I was in a long hallway with sets of double doors on either end. The walls to either side of me curved outward, turning the hall into a fat oval, and were lined with single doors. Circular couches were scattered around at random, occupied by pink workers and customers of all races, waiting for their turn in the fuck-rooms behind those doors.
I was not sure where to go. I had never been back here. The creatures on the couches were all staring at me. A hundred sets of eyes were all looking at me like I was the sole cause of the disturbance... which was kind of fair but not entirely. More than a few of them looked upset about the interruption of their recreational activity. I wondered if I was going to have to fight them. I had spare ammo on me but not nearly enough to kill every creature in the hall.
Then Tran solved my dilemma for me. “Kill that motherfucker!” screamed that creepy little-girl voice.
I looked to the end of the hall. Tran was in front of the other set of double doors, a bloated half-slug/half-mechanical spider, still clutching its spherical hookah. Four hammang blue workers poured out of the doorway. Their yellowish pus-bag organic bodies looked almost thin compared to Tran’s. The walking energy rifle exoskeletons they were operating towered over their boss’s ten-legged crawler. Tran skittered through the doorway. The doors shut behind it. The blue workers formed a line spanning the width of the hallway. They opened fire.
I hit the deck. Energy bolts lit up the air above me. The hall erupted into chaos. Shouts and screams hit my ears from all sides. The oh-so-familiar quacking-farts of energy weapons fire filled in the gaps between the sounds of panic. The floor beneath me vibrated from the impacts of a hundred pairs of stampeding feet. Legs entered and exited my field of vision, going in every direction, as creatures tried to escape the indiscriminate slaughter. The sharp tang of ozone filled my nose as the energy bolts cooked the air above my head.
I climbed to my feet, staying bent over to avoid getting my head blown off, and tried to assess the situation. The blue workers were pumping a steady stream of shots straight down the hall. The double doors behind me were blackened and smoldering from the relentless barrage. It was an elementary tactic. It relied on sheer volume of fire. There was no maneuvering or careful aim involved... just a fuckton of flying murder pointed in the general area of the thing they wanted dead. It was a good tactic because it pretty much guaranteed that any frontal assault would get cut to pieces. It was a bad tactic because it meant that, if I could flank them, I might be able to get some shots off.
I made my way toward the wall of doors to my right, keeping crouched over, dodging and weaving through the frenzied mob. Some creatures were moving crouched over like me. Some were standing up, running to and fro, too panicked or too stupid to duck. Some were huddled in balls on the floor, trying to make themselves as small as possible, waiting for the nightmare to run its course. Some were sprawled out on the floor or the couches with gaping holes blown clear through them. I moved steadily, using the surrounding pandemonium as concealment. The blue workers did not track my progress. Their fire remained concentrated straight down the hall. I kept moving and eventually made it to a place where the air above me was not filled with bright white speeding death.
I popped up, sighted in on the blue worker nearest to me, and fired four shots. My grouping was beautiful. The rounds slammed into its gelatinous organic body so close together that they made one big hole. Pus exploded out of it like a horizontal geyser. The hammang deflated like a collapsing tent. Its exoskeleton fell over and lay still.
I dropped back to the floor. I shoved a hand into my coat pocket, scooped up some ammo, and reloaded my revolver by touch... a nifty trick I had picked up when I had first landed on this shithole. The remaining blue workers turned their weapons toward where I had just been. Their fire was less concentrated than it was before. They searched up and down and traversed back and forth. The gun-toting snots seemed to have learned from their mistake. I did not think that I would be able to pull off the jack-in-the-box thing again.
I low-crawled toward my adversaries, using my knees and elbows to drag my body across the floor. Panicked creatures stomped past me. Bodies dropped all around me, sometimes whole, sometimes in pieces, sometimes burning. A cocktail of smoke filled the air as bodies, furniture, and even the walls caught fire. I kept pushing forward, searching for an opportunity to exploit.
I came around a burning couch to see three sets of cybernetic legs, side by side by side, about fifty feet away from me. Energy bolts still filled the air above my head. The blue workers had not seen me yet but I was certain that would change soon enough. I needed a plan... fast. The angle was too extreme for me to shoot at their gooey organic bodies so I looked for a vulnerable spot on their legs. My eyes went straight to the knee of the one in the middle. Hydraulic pistons expanded and contracted each time it took a step. I figured that, if I could take out that knee, the blue worker might be reduced to a bag of goo riding a high-tech oversized paperweight.
I took aim and fired all six of the rounds in my cylinder. Scraps of metal fle
w and hydraulic fluid sprayed as the bullets slammed home, demolishing the joint. The exoskeleton’s leg gave out. It fell, twisting to the side as it went down. The startled blue worker inadvertently fired its rifle as it dropped. The bolt hit the blue worker standing beside it.
A colossal explosion rocked the room. An intense flash of bright white light consumed the end of the hall. A violent concussion shook the floor beneath me.
I knew what had happened, although I barely believed it and sure as fuck had not planned on it. The falling blue worker had fired, point blank, directly into the power source of its colleague’s energy rifle. The power sources had built in safeguards so a direct hit from another rifle usually only resulted in a fucked-up weapon. Very, very, very rarely, those safeguards failed and the affected weapon fucked up everything in the vicinity. It was a one-in-a-million occurrence and it could not have happened to a nicer group of rancid phlegm-wads.
I stayed where I was for a moment. My whole world was blanked out by sunspots in my eyes and a high-pitched whine in my ears. Reality gradually came back into focus. I could not tell if it took a minute or an hour but my senses eventually unfucked themselves enough for me to function.
An uneasy calm hung over the hallway. No energy bolts lit up the air over my head. No quacking-farts reached my ears. I could hear a multitude of groans and whimpers but I could not see the creatures they were coming from. The soft crackle of fire caressed my ears but I could not see that either. Thick smoke hung over everything, drifting over my head and sending tendrils down to claw at the floor, obstructing my view like fluid curtains.
I climbed to my feet and took a few cautious steps through the haze. I could not see more than three feet in any direction. I hoped that I was heading toward the doorway Tran had disappeared through but I had no way to be sure. The footing was treacherous. Bodies and pieces of bodies littered the floor. Any reasonable creature would have sat down on one of the couches that was not on fire and waited for help to come. I did not have time to be reasonable. There was a job that needed doing. I reloaded my revolver, chose my steps carefully, and moved forward into the smoke.
Odd Jobs Page 6
