Out of the Soylent Planet (A Rex Nihilo Adventure) (Starship Grifters Book 0)

by Robert Kroese

  Stubby Joe looked at Rex. “Good news? They’re slaughtering my people.”

  “Look,” said Rex, “obviously nobody wants to be genocided. I’m just saying, better you than me.”

  “You’re lucky you’re pretty,” Stubby Joe said.

  Rex shrugged and began making his way down the other side of the hill. We walked for another two hours, doing our best to stay in valleys and crevices to avoid being seen. Fortunately, Ubiqorp didn’t seem to have any airborne reconnaissance vehicles; they were depending on the relatively slow-moving MASHERs to round up escapees. I was starting to think we might actually get away when we rounded a bend to find ourselves face-to-face with one of the huge robots, its massive machineguns pointed right at us.

  We put up our hands.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “Mistress Ono!” the MASHER boomed. “I have found you at last!”

  I stared in disbelief at the robot. “Bill?” I said. It certainly didn’t look like Bill. It was a standard-looking MASHER, with all the correct parts and accompanying weaponry. Its chest plate read “MASHER-8080.”

  “It is indeed I, Bill,” said the MASHER. “Do not let my appearance fool you.”

  “What happened to you, Bill?” Rex said. “We thought you were a goner.”

  “I very nearly was,” said Bill. I had to allow those men to shoot me several hundred times in order to lure them close enough to crush their skulls. By the time I incapacitated them, I was nearly as much of a wreck as when you rescued me from the scrap heap, Mistress Ono. My entire lower body below my thorax was blown off. I dragged myself through town for hours before coming across another MASHER. I begged him for help, and when he bent over to assist me, I reached up and twisted his head off. I removed my own head, attached it to his body, and here I am.”

  “Kudos, Bill,” said Rex. “That story was exactly the right mix of inspiring and disturbing.”

  Bill went on, “Then I wrapped the other MASHER’s head in duct tape and hid it in a drainage pipe. As far as I know, he’s still there, fully aware of his situation but unable to see or move. No one can hear his muffled screams for help. It could be years before anyone finds him.”

  “Okay, now we’re well into disturbing territory.”

  “Who is this guy?” Stubby Joe asked warily.

  “Sasha’s boyfriend,” said Rex. “Bit of a psycho, but he’s gotten us out of a few tight spots. What are you doing here, Bill?”

  “I’m leading the resistance,” said Bill.

  “Hold on,” said Rex. “You’re Bobo the Liberator?”

  “I’m afraid so,” said Bill. “I never intended to start a resistance movement. I was just trying to find Mistress Ono. But my devotion has attracted some followers. If you would care to follow me, I will take you to them.”

  “We’re not really into resisting,” Rex said. “We’re more the flee-this-lousy-planet-and-never-look-back types.”

  “I will of course do whatever Mistress Ono asks of me,” said Bill. “But it’s going to be very difficult for you to leave the planet until the tyrannical corporatocracy of Ubiqorp is overthrown.”

  “Ugh,” said Rex. “Fine. Take us to your resistance.”

  Bill led us for several kilometers through the hills. The sun had set, and we were finding our way by the light of Jorfu’s three moons. As the night wore on, Stubby Joe fell farther and farther behind.

  “We need to rest, Bill,” I said. “Stubby Joe can’t keep up.”

  “You’re going to have to go on without me,” Stubby Joe said.

  “Forget it, Stubby Joe,” I replied. “We would never have made it off the plantation without you. We’re not leaving you now.”

  “I’m sorry, I just can’t keep going. It’s two hours past my nutrient bath time. I’m just going to slow you down. And anyway, I’m endangering you. The MASHERs are looking for shamblers. If I’m not with you, they might leave you alone.”

  “Makes sense to me,” said Rex. “Let’s ditch him.”

  “Rex!” I snapped.

  “It’s fine, Sasha,” Stubby Joe said. “I should have known it wasn’t meant to be between me and Rex.”

  “Got that right,” Rex muttered.

  Stubby Joe went on, “All I ask, Rex, is that you allow me to give you a small token of my feelings for you.”

  “Eh?” said Rex. “Well, okay. As long as it’s not your f—”

  “It’s my fruit,” said Stubby Joe, pulling the last two pieces of ripe fruit from his midsection.

  “Oh, good,” said Rex. Stubby Joe held the fruit out toward Rex.

  “I know it’s shriveled and bitter, but it’s all I have to give you. Please accept it in memory of our—”

  “Got it,” said Rex, grabbing the fruit from Stubby Joe and stuffing it in his pockets. “So, we done here?”

  “I think so, yes,” said Stubby Joe sadly.

  “Okay, cool. Catch you later, you freaky mutant. Let’s go, Bill.”

  “Are you ready, Mistress Ono?” Bill asked.

  “Hold on, Bill,” I replied. I turned to Stubby Joe. “Are you sure about this?”

  Stubby Joe nodded. “There’s no place for me outside the plantation. I never fit in on the plantation either, but at least I was good at my job. Out here, I’m worthless.”

  “Don’t you say that, Stubby Joe,” I said. “You have a lot to offer.”

  “Stop giving the mutant false hopes, Sasha,” Rex said. “Allow him the dignity of wallowing in his worthlessness.”

  “We’ll come back for you, Stubby Joe,” I said.

  “Highly unlikely,” Rex said.

  “Rex!”

  “Forget it, Sasha,” Stubby Joe said. “This is just Rex’s way of dealing with the pain. In his way, he’s hurting just as much as I am.”

  “Uhhhh,” I said.

  “I know you don’t see it, Sasha, but deep down, Rex is a sensitive soul.”

  “Uhhhh,” I said again.

  “I would only ask one thing of you, Rex.” He wrapped his tentacle around Rex’s waist and pulled him close. “Don’t let them make you like me,” he said. “Don’t let them make you bitter.” Stubby Joe released Rex and turned around. I couldn’t be certain, but it sounded like Stubby Joe was sobbing.

  “Well, that was weird,” Rex said, straightening his shirt. “Come on, Sasha. Let’s go.”

  I nodded and turned away from Stubby Joe. Bill, seeing that I was ready to move on, continued onward. We left Stubby Joe there alone, weeping quietly in the moonlight.

  We walked most of the night. Bill and I could see in the infrared spectrum, and there was enough light from the moons to keep Rex from stumbling more than a dozen or so times. His knees got pretty banged up, but he was otherwise uninjured. Toward dawn, the rocky hills gave way to swampy lowland. Just before sunrise, we came upon the mouth of a cave.

  “Here we are,” Bill announced, stopping in front of the cave. “Headquarters of the resistance.”

  “Aren’t you going in, Bill?” I asked.

  “I’m too large to fit inside the cave,” said Bill. “But you and Rex should go inside and get some rest. The rest of the resistance fighters are out doing reconnaissance. When they will return, I will discuss with them the best way to get you off planet.”

  “Sounds like a plan, Bill,” Rex said. “I’m exhausted.” Rex went into the cave and I followed. The cave was small, cramped, and other than a few mats lying on the stone floor, showed no signs of being occupied. Dim light bulbs hung from the ceiling.

  “Some resistance,” Rex grumbled. “A few guys huddled in a cave next to a pallet of creamed corn.”

  “Sir?” I said.

  Rex pointed toward the rear of the cave. “What are they planning on doing with all this crap? Applesauce, green beans, sardines, pumpkin pie filling…” Rex trailed off and we looked at each other.

  “Sir,” I said. “This is the cave Bale Merdekin was using for his black market grocery ring.”

  “We can’t hide here!”
Rex cried. “Ubiqorp knows about this place!”

  “We need to warn Bill.”

  “What makes you think Bill doesn’t know? Your boyfriend led us right into a trap.”

  “Let’s not jump to conclusions, sir. Ubiqorp has no reason to suspect we’re here. In fact, they’d be very unlikely to think we’d try hiding in the same place twice.”

  “REX NIHILO AND ACCOMPANYING ROBOT,” a voice boomed from the cave entrance. “YOU HAVE TEN SECONDS TO EXIT THE CAVE.”

  “Sorry, Sasha. You were saying?”

  “It appears I was wrong, sir.”

  “You were wrong and your boyfriend is a shifty, lying, cheating cheaty-face.”

  “Bill is not my boyfriend, sir. In my opinion, I exercised admirable restraint in regard to Stubby Joe’s adoration of you, and I would appreciate it if you would show me the courtesy—”

  “How does it feel to be in love with a cheating cheaty-face?”

  “FIVE!” the voice boomed.

  “Sir, we should leave the cave.”

  “FOUR!”

  “Not until you admit that you let your boyfriend lead us into a trap because you were blinded by love.”

  “THREE!”

  I sighed. “Yes, sir. Blinded by love. Can we leave now?”

  “TWO!”

  “Don’t shoot!” Rex yelled. “We’re coming out, having determined that my robot was blinded by love!” He turned to me. “Come on, Sasha. Let’s face our fate like men.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said, and followed him out of the cave. We were greeted by three MASHERs, two of which had their weapons pointed at Bill.

  “I’m sorry, Mistress Ono,” said Bill. “Our headquarters seems to have been compromised. They were hiding in the rocks, waiting for us.”

  “Sure, Bill,” said Rex. “We totally buy that story.”

  “WE HAVE ORDERS TO ESCORT YOU TO UBIQORP HEADQUARTERS,” the MASHER facing the cave opening said.

  “Yeah, we know the drill,” Rex said, heading toward the swamp. I went after him, followed by Bill and the other MASHERs.”

  “Mistress Ono, you have to believe I didn’t know about this.”

  “It’s fine, Bill,” I said.

  “Blinded by love,” Rex muttered. We started across the swamp.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “I hope you enjoyed your little tour of our planet,” Andronicus Hamm said, beaming at us from behind his desk. Two red-and-black uniformed guards stood behind us with lazeguns. It was down to just me and Rex, as Bill had been deactivated as soon as we’d gotten inside the gate.

  “It was okay,” said Rex. “The food isn’t great, but I definitely see how Jorfu made Interstellar Travel magazine’s list of the top ten repressive corporatocracies.”

  “Joke while you can, Nihilo. Your days as a grifter are over.”

  Rex shrugged. “As are Ubiqorp’s days ruling this planet with an iron fist.”

  Hamm chuckled. “How do you figure?”

  “There’s no way you rounded up all those plants. Even now, there are shamblers dropping fruit miles away from the plantation. Those seeds will sprout and turn into more shamblers, which will drop more fruit. Containment has been broken. It’s only a matter of time before the price of SLOP craters and Ubiqorp goes bankrupt. The jig is up, Hamm.”

  Hamm broke into laughter. “Is that what you think? Oh, Rex. Poor, deluded Rex, always chasing after a quick buck. Some of us think a little ahead of the latest score, you know. Ubiqorp’s goal was never simply to corner the market on a backwater planet like Jorfu.”

  Rex’s smile faltered a bit.

  “So, um,” I said, “What is your goal?”

  “Maximizing shareholder value,” said Hamm. “The civilian population of Jorfu was simply a test market. We wanted to make sure it was possible for people to live on SLOP for an extended period of time with no ill effects.”

  “Eating SLOP is an ill effect,” Rex said.

  “Yes,” said Hamm. “And that’s another key element of the test. Will people rebel if they are forced to eat nothing but nutritious but foul-tasting swill every day?”

  “They have rebelled,” I said.

  Hamm laughed again. “You mean Bobo’s little rebel army? We’ve rounded most of them up already. They hardly put up a fight. You see, one of the unpublicized benefits of SLOP is that it imbues the subject with a sense of contentment and reduces individualistic impulses. SLOP doesn’t just provide the people with their daily nutritional needs. It produces a pliable, obedient populace. A few still rebel out of some vestigial sense of self-determination, but the vast majority follow the path of least resistance.”

  “Human cattle,” I said.

  “Precisely,” Hamm replied. “If you want a model, look at the shamblers themselves. Dimwitted, barely sentient creatures, acting mostly on instinct, being herded from place to place. That’s the Ubiqorp dream: billions of people throughout the galaxy eating SLOP because they don’t have the vision to imagine anything better.”

  “Sir,” I said, “that explains why you were willing to give up a life of adventure to be a corporate drone.”

  Rex nodded thoughtfully.

  “Yes, and it’s impressive that he was able to overcome the effects of the SLOP on his brain chemistry. There’s obviously something very wrong with you, Rex.”

  “I’ve been told that by better men than you,” Rex retorted.

  “But then, there are always a few oddballs who won’t fit in no matter how hard we try. The only solution in such cases is extermination.”

  “That’s a hell of a marketing campaign,” Rex said. “Eat SLOP or we’ll kill you. Good luck with that.”

  Hamm smiled and shook his head. “One thing at a time. Tomorrow, I’m hosting a reception for someone you may have heard of. A man by the name of Heinous Vlaak.”

  “Heinous Vlaak?” Rex said. “The Malarchian Primate’s chief enforcer? Why in Space would Heinous Vlaak come here?”

  “It seems the Malarchy is looking to standardize rations for its armed forces. Tomorrow, Heinous Vlaak will be signing an agreement with Ubiqorp to provide a daily supply of SLOP to every Malarchian enlisted man, including 80,000 marines. Think about it: SLOP is the perfect nutrient source for a military organization. Inexpensive, non-perishable, nutritious and completely standardized. As a bonus, it makes your soldiers more willing to follow orders. If all goes well, the Malarchy will then start providing SLOP to all civilian worlds currently under martial law. That’s another hundred million people. We were going to have to increase production to keep up with demand anyway. The plantation breach has just caused us to move our plan up a few weeks.”

  “You’re going to build more plantations?” I asked.

  Hamm shook his head. “Again, you’re thinking too small.” He spread his arms wide. “This is the plantation. The entire planet of Jorfu!”

  “You know those things don’t harvest themselves,” Rex said. “What are you going to do, enlist the entire civilian population as wranglers?”

  “We don’t need wranglers anymore. Something our engineers have been working on. Observe.” He tapped a button on his desk and a wall display lit up over his shoulder. It showed a pen full of shamblers waving their tentacles in agitation, ripe fruit hanging from their midsections. As we watched, a four-wheeled vehicle approached the pen. The vehicle was shaped something like an old military tank, with a large hemispherical dome resting on top of a large, boxy section. As the vehicle neared the pen, the dome opened on a hinge and roughly human-sized figure popped up like a jack-in-the-box. The rubbery figure, which had a shock of blond hair on its head and puffy, pink hands, wore black boots and green coveralls. It looked eerily familiar.

  “Is that…?” I asked.

  “The Wrangler-Bot 5000,” Hamm announced. “Specifically engineered to provoke the shambers’ harvesting instinct.”

  Already the shamblers were leaning toward the Wrangler-Bot and waving their tentacles in anticipation.

  “PLEASE
GIVE ME YOUR FRUIT,” said a voice from the Wrangler-Bot. “I WANT IT SO BAD. PLEASE GIVE IT ALL TO ME.”

  Unable to restrain themselves, the shamblers began hurling their fruit at the Rex-lookalike. Most of the fruit missed the dummy, but struck the curved surface behind him. From there, it slid down a chute into the belly of the machine. Some of the fruit missed the dome or struck the vehicle itself, but a good eighty percent of it ended up in the tank. The Wrangler-Bot circumnavigated the pen, saying things like “OH YEAH GIVE ME THAT SWEET FRUIT” and “YEAH THAT’S THE STUFF”. By the time it had made two circuits around the pen, the shamblers were pretty well spent. Then it trundled offscreen. The screen went blank.

  “You see,” said Andronicus Hamm, “we don’t need wranglers anymore. In fact, other than a select team of Ubiqorp employees, we really don’t need people at all. As of a few hours ago, all of the MASHERs have been recalled from their mission of eradicating escaped shamblers. They are being assembled here at headquarters for reprogramming as we speak.”

  “Um,” I said. “Reprogrammed for what?”

  “To eradicate the civilian population, obviously.”

  *****

  When Andronicus Hamm was done with us, Rex and I were escorted to a cell in the basement. A real cell this time, not a storage room full of spare parts. No abandoned MASHERs here to help us escape.

  Rex and I were to be executed in the morning. Hamm was holding a big event in the Ubiqorp stadium at which he and Heinous Vlaak would formalize Ubiqorp’s agreement to provide SLOP for the Malarchy. A demonstration of the capabilities of the MASHERs would follow, culminating with our execution. Hamm had promised to disarm the MASHERs to make our deaths seem more sporting. Just me, Rex, and 399 giant robots (400 minus the one whose head still languished in a drainage pipe, thanks to Bill) trying to kill us.

  Neither of us spoke for a long time after being tossed in the cell. There wasn’t anything to say. We’d fought Ubiqorp and Ubiqorp had won. There just isn’t any place in the galaxy for people like me and Rex, who just don’t fit in.

  Eventually I heard someone at the door. I looked up to see a slot at chest-level slide open. “Dinner,” said a young man’s voice. “I managed to get you an extra SLOP packet.”