by Jake Bible
When she came up, she used the butt of her rifle to obliterate the midsection of a Gwreq guard, shattering the man’s protective suit and turning his insides into gravel. As that guard collapsed, Mug kicked out with her left leg and broke a human guard’s right leg into a thousand pieces. Bone shards pierced the man’s protective suit and he screamed as he fell face first onto the ground. Mug brought a glove-clad paw down and crushed the man’s head mid-scream.
A plasma bolt hit Mug in the side and she rolled onto her back, finally bringing her rifle up as it was intended. She fired off a dozen bolts in quick succession, her body twisting in the dirt as she laid waste to the guards that couldn’t get shots off fast enough to take her out. When her rifle clicked empty, she pushed herself upright, ejected the energy magazine, and slapped in a new one as she surveyed her work.
“Mug, you good?” Wanders called out over the com.
“I’m good,” Mug replied.
“Your suit is at seventy-one percent efficiency,” Motherboard stated over the com. “That last plasma bolt compromised your seal on your left side. You’ll be at critical in ten minutes if you don’t get inside the palace and repair the breach.”
“On my way,” Mug said.
She moved towards the palace doors, her rifle firing repeatedly, tearing into every guard that was stupid enough to show his or her helmeted face.
Eight
The KL09 hand cannons clicked empty as Cookie took out a dozen and a half guards. Useless hunks of junk without ammo, Cookie tossed the pistols to the side, knowing he could obtain more later when needed, and went into hand-to-hand mode. He’d emptied his rifle, and all extra magazines, six corridors back as he fought his way from the detention wing to the grand ballroom. If the map that was superimposed on his helmet’s faceplate was correct then he only had three more corridors to go before he joined up with Geist.
If Geist was still alive.
The Tcherian was not responding to any com hails and that worried Cookie. Not because he was afraid his teammate was dead, but because that meant he’d have to extract the target on his own against odds that even he didn’t feel comfortable with. And, yes, he was worried about Geist, but the op wasn’t to worry about teammates, it was to rescue the councilman’s son.
Cookie was considered to be a cold son of a gump because of his insistence that the op always come first. But that was the job and he really didn’t understand why the others didn’t always see it that way. Sometimes they were too chummy for their own good. Except for Hole. That android was colder than half of Venti’s three hundred moons.
Three guards rushed him and Cookie let his claws come out to play. Their coppery black color was gone, his healing abilities turning them good as new after only a few minutes of being retracted back into the flesh of his fingers and they were back to their normal milky-white hue. That hue didn’t last long as Cookie leapt to the side, his right foot hitting the corridor’s wall, pushing him back at the guards, as his left hand swiped in a wide arc, catching two of the guards across their exposed throats.
The first guard went down with a gurgling screech while the second merely stood there, apparently stunned to find that most of the flesh from his throat back to his spine was missing. The third guard skidded to a stop as Cookie landed back on the floor and flashed his blood-red claws at the man.
“Just give me your carbine and I’ll let you live,” Cookie said, holding out a bloody hand to the man. “Come on, pal. You’re a human. You don’t stand a chance against me.”
Cookie could tell the guard actually thought about it for a second before slowly offering the beat-up-looking plasma carbine.
“Thanks,” Cookie said as he took the weapon, flipped it around so it pointed at the man, and fired twice. The guard dropped dead and Cookie casually stepped over his corpse as he continued down the corridor. “I didn’t say how long I’d let you live.”
He put the carbine to his shoulder and rounded the corner of the corridor, ready to take down any more guards that decided he was an easy, solo target. But all he saw were screaming and running wedding guests as they scurried around in every direction like gumps with their heads cut off. At least the ones with legs were scurrying and running, the ones with wings and other locomotive appendages were doing whatever those appendages required to get them the hell out of the palace.
In the chaos of the fleeing guests, four armed guards were shoving their way towards Cookie as soon as they caught sight of him. One of the guards looked directly at the carbine Cookie held and his eight eyes flashed with anger, his insect brain obviously making the connection between who should have been holding the carbine and the implications behind why Cookie had it at that moment.
“DOWN!” Cookie shouted as he squeezed the trigger twice.
No one got down and one of the plasma bolts ripped through a fleeing Groshnel, tearing into her eight-armed, boneless body and out the other side like she was made of gump butter. Cookie ignored the woman’s dying screams and smiled as he saw the bolt continue on its trajectory and blast a hole right through the center of one of the guards.
The three remaining guards didn’t seem to care for the guests’ well-being either and they opened fire without even giving a warning shout. Guests began to fall, the blood and fluids from the various races quickly mixing on the corridor’s floor like the swirling palate of some deranged and seriously sick painter. Cookie jumped to the side, pressing his back to the wall, as the bolts tore through the guests and down the center of the corridor.
He raised his carbine and fired again, but the weapon jammed halfway through the plasma charge. Cookie knew exactly what was going to happen next and he flung the carbine as far away as he could. Of course, he didn’t waste a good opportunity, which meant he flung it directly at the guards and into the center of the fleeing guests.
Cookie flattened himself on the ground as the carbine exploded with a blinding and deafening flash-bang. More than half of the guest screams went silent instantly as their bodies were vaporized. The remaining guests rolled on the floor in agony from the various wounds inflicted by the plasma, and shrapnel, sent flying by the weapon’s explosion.
Cookie pushed up into a crouch and was stunned to see one of the guards still standing. Then he wasn’t so stunned when he saw the light from the ceiling lamps that were still operational reflect off the metal showing itself from under the man’s synthetic skin.
“Come here, Cervile scum,” the android said, kicking dying and dead guests out of his way as he moved towards Cookie. “You are Fleet Marine, yes? You are here to kill my boss, yes? I shall disappoint you.”
“I don’t know what speech protocol you are programmed with, but you sound like a two-bit gangster from a holo vid,” Cookie said as he looked around for a weapon, any weapon, he could use to take down the android. His claws were sharp, but not pierce-an-android’s-body sharp. Very few things in the galaxy were that sharp. “Seriously. Take a week off and get yourself reprogrammed.”
“This is my native speech pattern,” the android guard replied. “You no like it then you go fo yourself. Not all androids built by snobby Galactic Fleet mechanics. Some of us activated on the fringe, away from your brutal oppression.”
“Yeah, I think you got your propaganda wrong, pal,” Cookie said and shrugged. “But, whatever. I could care less where you came from. It’s where you’re going that interests me.”
The android punted a severed head at Cookie and the Cervile dodged easily out of the way.
“Oh? Where you believe I will be going, pussy?” the android asked.
“Pussy? Don’t be racist,” Cookie said. “I’d think a metal thug that works for a Slinghasp would have a more inclusive attitude.”
“I call it as I see it,” the android said, still closing the distance between itself and Cookie. “That is saying, yes? Call it as I see it? I do not enjoy the common tongue. It is base language, dumbed down for masses to use. I prefer refinement.”
The android ra
ttled off a long sentence in a language that Cookie didn’t understand.
“No idea what you said there,” Cookie responded, “but to get back to your question, you are about to go to whatever Hell you androids go to when you are permanently deactivated.”
“We do not have a Hell, Cookie,” Hole interrupted over the com.
“Not the time, Hole,” Cookie said. “Hey, are you patched into my helmet’s cam?”
“I am and it is a good thing,” she replied. “That’s a model 24601. Slave-class android. Easy to deactivate if you can destroy its brain cluster. It is located just at the base of its spine.”
“Good to know,” Cookie said, still looking for a weapon. “Only one problem.”
“You do not have a weapon that can pierce its armored body,” Hole said then sighed. “Then my suggestion is you run. Because that model also has the strength of a station wrecker. If it gets a hold of you then you will be ripped apart into small chunks before you even put a scratch on its surface.”
“Run?” Cookie asked.
“Yes, that would be a good idea,” Hole replied.
“Yes, that would be good idea,” the android said almost at the same time. “You know what I am now, yes? A voice in your ear tell you what I do to you, no?”
“No, yes, make up your damn cybernetic mind,” Cookie said.
The android kicked another head at Cookie. The Cervile took that moment to do exactly as Hole had advised. He turned tail and ran. Not literally since Cerviles do not have tails, but in the figurative sense as he pumped his muscular legs as hard as he could to get him as far away from the android as possible.
The loud footsteps that echoed from behind him told Cookie that the android had no intention of letting him get away.
“Hole! How do I get this guy off my ass?” Cookie yelled.
“You don’t,” Hole replied. “24601s are fast and agile, as well as strong. It will catch up to you. How far back is it?”
“Six, seven meters,” Cookie said.
“Then you have that many seconds before he takes you down,” Hole said.
“That is not what I wanted to hear,” Cookie said.
“I am not here to tell you what you want to hear, but to tell you what you need to hear,” Hole said. “I am also in the middle of my own struggles, Cookie. You are lucky I can multitask with ease as I am facing fourteen hostiles currently and not handling them as well as I would like.”
“Cookie, cover your own ass!” Motherboard snapped over the com. “Hole, focus on your fight! Both of you get to that damn ballroom and find Geist and the target! Am I clear?”
“Roger, LT!” Cookie yelled as he sprinted around a corner and came face to face with a contingent of guards. “Loud and clear!”
Cookie dove to the ground as the guards opened fire. Their plasma bolts tore into the android as he came around the corner, moving too fast to even skid to a stop. Cookie looked over his shoulder at the jitterbugging android and knew that if Hole’s words were true, even the head-on attack from the friendly fire wasn’t going to put the thing down.
Cookie scrambled into a crouching attack and rushed at the guards as they realized they were shooting one of their own. His claws gutted four of them before they could even look down at him. He was flipping up and over the rest, claws taking out a various assortment of alien eyes as he executed the maneuver.
When he came down on the other side, he had a clear view of the android and also had more than enough firepower at his disposal. Cookie slashed out right and left, shredding the throats of two guards then hooked his foot underneath a carbine and kicked it up into his bloody hands as he sent his claws back into his fingers.
The few remaining guards turned their weapons on Cookie, but he was much faster and he shot them down where they stood before taking aim at the android.
The machine looked at where Cookie had his carbine aimed and stopped walking.
“You do not appear to understand how to use your weapon,” the android said, a metallic chuckle coming from its metallic throat. “The Galactic Fleet’s standards are not what used to be, no?”
“No,” Cookie said and fired.
The plasma bolt missed the android by a good half meter. The machine’s metal lips turned up in a sly grin and he started to walk forward again. Then he shuddered and stopped as the bolt ricocheted off the cabinet of an emergency fire kit welded to the wall. A fire kit that could stand up to the intense heat created by a plasma bolt.
There was a loud, grinding groan and the android’s eyes went dead. It fell to its knees then onto its face as Cookie slowly lowered the carbine.
“How’s that for Galactic Fleet standards?” Cookie said as he tossed the carbine aside and bent to pick up a fresh one at his feet. The first one had pulled to the left a little.
Nine
The skin on Geist’s body switched continually as he positioned himself around the panicked crowd that struggled to get free of the grand ballroom. Some had made it out, but the majority were still trapped in the huge room, the crowd so big that they jammed the doors so much that only the skinny few could leave. Males and females of all races screamed and cried as their exit was so close yet still so far out of reach. Geist took advantage of the guest jam at the doors and pressed himself to the flesh of the many races, his skin allowing him to blend in completely.
He’d tried to contact Motherboard, but the com was out. His guess was one of the Skrangs had a scrambler on him and his com probably wasn’t the only one not working. Geist just hoped it was a short-range scrambler and the other members of Zero were still in communication with each other. That would be good since that meant they were hopefully on their way to help his Tcherian butt.
In the meantime, he kept himself hidden and out of the direct line of fire of the Skrang pistols that were being leveled at anyone that strayed too close to their group. That group included Sha Morgoal and Councilman Keer’s son. The Skrangs seemed agitated, not just because of the chaos, but because of Sha Morgoal’s body language.
It was obvious to Geist that Sha Morgoal was less than intimidated by the couple of pistols pointed directly at him. He had the cocky air of someone with an ace up his sleeve. He kept the kid seated next to him, one of his snake hands clasped tightly on the boy’s wrist. Other than that, it looked like he didn’t have a care in the world.
Geist assumed that wasn’t true. No way someone could be witnessing what was happening in the grand ballroom, inside his own palace, and not care about it. But Geist had to give the crime lord credit, he certainly didn’t crack under pressure.
The crowd grew more agitated then suddenly quiet. Or as quiet as a crowd that size could get. Then they began to surge backwards, pushing Geist back deeper into the grand ballroom. There was a roar of anger and Geist couldn’t help but smile. He knew that roar. Mama Bear had come to the rescue.
The Skrangs stopped their haranguing of Sha Morgoal and all turned to witness the entrance of Mug. Guests flew this way, guests flew that way. A Dornopheous couple melted to the floor, their species’ natural defense responses finally kicking in and turning them to insubstantial puddles. Two Spilflecks’ neck frills exploded outwards and clipped the temples of two Lipian women that were obviously only there as escorts to a couple of the wealthier male guests. The Lipians screamed then both fainted, although Geist was fairly certain they were faking it and just wanted an excuse to hit the floor and lay low.
All of that was great for a moment.
That moment passed when the Skrang pistols came up aimed directly at Geist as soon as he was shoved far enough away from the crowd to be detected as an individual. An individual that was unarmed and quite naked. Yes, his skin still tried to blend in with his surroundings, but the surroundings were no longer a solid mass of panicked guests. His surroundings were now a splintered mass of panicked guests with a very angry and determined Urvein tossing half of them out of her way.
The tips of the pistols glowed bright red and Geist almost closed
his eyes. He wasn’t sure he wanted to see how his life ended. But he was a member of Zero and Zero faced death. So his eyes stayed open and he watched those glowing tips get brighter and brighter.
Geist raised a hand and gave the Skrangs a wave. A last gesture of defiance before he died. But he didn’t die. He stayed very much alive. It was the Skrangs on the right side of their group that died. Their heads split open as plasma bolts tore through them. Skrang blood splattered the others and only then did Sha Morgoal’s composure break as he caught some of the spray.
The crime lord jumped to his feet, the Keer kid still gripped tight, and backed away from the carbine-wielding Cervile that stepped into the room from a concealed servant’s entrance. Geist watched Cookie fire again and again until all the Skrangs lay dead either on the ground or sprawled across the main table which had been abandoned by the wedding party a good while before.
“Look out,” Mug said as she nudged Geist out of the way. “Head up there and see which one of the lizards has the scrambler. Cookie and I will take care of Sha Morgoal and get the kid.”
“You think so?” Sha Morgoal hissed as he whipped his snake tail up around the boy’s neck, putting the kid squarely between himself and Cookie and Mug. “I can take care of myself, thank you. As for the kid, he will be looked after as he accompanies me off planet. We will be going straight to the Treaty Court where I will file a complaint against this blatant disregard for my sovereignty. This planet is neutral territory and not under the jurisdiction of the Galactic Fleet.”
“It ain’t under the jurisdiction of the Skrang Alliance neither,” Mug snarled. “But lookey lookey, I sure see me some dead Skrangs right there by you. Now, they ain’t part of the official guest list, I’m sure. So I have to wonder why they are here at all, what with you being a neutral planet and all.”
“People can come and go as they please here,” Sha Morgoal said. “No law against me having visitors.”
