Alvin Baylor Lives!_A 21st Century Pulp

by Maximilian Gray

  Rouja rolled in a backward somersault and stood up as Cheng stomped again, hitting the deck with a thump. She kicked the knife out of his hand and it skittered across the floor.

  He lunged at her with open arms and gripped her in a bear hug. Then he head-butted her in the forehead and she nearly went out.

  Her legs went soft for a moment as his muscled arms squeezed the air from her lungs. She pressed her heel down, and a blade popped from the toe of her boot. She lifted her bent knee high and in close then raked the blade down the inside of his leg, cutting the femoral artery. Blood rushed to the floor, but his grip didn’t loosen.

  He head-butted her again, breaking her nose.

  She raked the knife blade down the other leg and felt his grip loosen. Then she brought her hands together, interlacing her fingers and pushed them up through his hold. At the top she parted her arms and broke the bear hug, then shoved him back as hard as she could.

  He staggered back a few feet then reached down to his holster. She kicked him in the nuts with the boot blade. His expression changed and he doubled over. She kicked again and buried the blade in his face. His torso went upright again and he reeled back. He was missing an eye. It was stuck on the end of her boot.

  Blood pooled all around his feet.

  Cheng gave an odd expression and wobbled backward. His testicles rolled down his pant leg and unraveled in a stringy mess at his feet. Then he reached for his pulse gun again and got it halfway out of the holster, before slipping in his own blood.

  He lay on his back and raised the gun at her. She kicked his hand, then stomped his trachea. He wheezed, air escaping from his lungs. His arms dropped limply back to the ground.

  “You’re both liars,” he whispered in a crunchy breath.

  Then he died.

  “Fuck,” said Rouja.

  She reached up at her throbbing nose, then took a step back and steadied herself while sliding in Cheng’s blood.

  The girl.

  She turned around and Watkins was gone from the floor. She was running to the exit.

  Rouja hopped the blood puddle and went after her.

  Watkins reached the door and it opened. She placed a hand above the frame and ducked low to pass through.

  Rouja spotted Cheng’s discarded knife, went down in a forward roll, snatched it up, then threw it. It went through Watkins’s hand, pinning it to the top of the doorframe.

  She screamed in pain, then whimpered, “Please don’t kill me.”

  “Shut that fucking door,” said Rouja.

  “Please,” begged Watkins.

  The door slid shut again.

  Rouja grabbed her by the collar. “You’re going to tell me everything.”

  Watkins reached over toward her pinned hand and tapped a button on her wrist.

  An electric shock jolted through Rouja. She felt her teeth snap shut and her hand clamped down like a vise as electricity poured out of Watkins’s suit.

  Then it stopped. Rouja’s muscles went soft and she dropped to the ground.

  Her breath was fast and shallow and she felt her heart beat uncontrollably. She stared blearily as Watkins pulled the knife from her pinned hand.

  The girl turned around and leaped on her with the blade.

  Rouja rolled her head and the point hit the ground next to her ear with a loud ping. She turned back and bit down on Watkins’s nose, tearing it off.

  The redhead screamed. She dropped the knife and grabbed at her bloody face.

  Rouja rolled her over into a choke hold. The girl’s neck was hard to grip in the gushing blood, so she reached up and jammed a thumb in her eye socket. Then she wrenched Watkins’s head to the side until her gurgling terminated with a loud pop.

  “Never mind. I’ll figure out the plan myself.”

  They lay in a heap on the ground. The electrocution had left Rouja’s insides burning. She rolled over and tried to stand, but her legs trembled and she fell back to the floor.

  Fucking eel suit.

  Padre was still waiting at the disabled ship—where Alvin was headed.

  Have to call him away. Have to get out of here.

  She peeped Padre in her Opti-Comp. The floating display was filled with static. She pinched her earlobe and nothing happened. Watkins’s eel suit had damaged her implants. She went back to the floating display and typed out the text message, “need you here now. they know. C & W dead,” in ghosted letters.

  He won’t kill me.

  She peeped Send. Then she crawled to one of the janitorial bots and powered it up. It was time to clean up.

  Twenty-Five

  Alvin waited a few minutes at the Armstrong Station terminal door before it opened. He was greeted by a floating man in a bright-red jumpsuit. His face featured a neatly trimmed Vandyke over a serious expression. A caduceus was imprinted on his front breast pocket.

  “Baylor?” the man said quickly.

  Alvin nodded.

  “Ito,” said the man in red. “Put this on, then come inside.”

  Alvin dropped his bag and stepped into the loose green jumpsuit. He rolled up the overlong ankles and sleeves then zipped it up. He picked up his bag and stepped over the threshold. His right foot came down inside and then he lifted his left leg. While pressing down on his heel, his weight shifted oddly; and as he came through the doorway, he lifted off toward the ceiling. The burden of his bag disappeared first and then he felt it in all his limbs. No gravity. His stomach dropped.

  “Whoa,” he said.

  Ito pulled the door closed and spun a wheel locking it. Then he tapped the wall and two metal plates closed off access to the outer door. They were in an airlock.

  “Give me your hand,” said Ito.

  Alvin gripped the man’s outstretched hand.

  Ito pivoted in the air, crouched sideways against the doorframe, and kicked off. They glided down the long hallway and up to another circular door at the end.

  Alvin’s stomach made loops. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

  Ito spun himself so they were both upright. “Look me in the eyes.”

  Alvin stared at him. He could see Ito’s hands doing something at the periphery of his vision. The door ahead opened. It was dark beyond.

  “Close your eyes. I’ll be right back,” said Ito.

  He did as he was told.

  Sweat began to bubble at his forehead, but it did not run. It felt like growths on his face. He coughed and his heart pounded.

  “That corpo better not puke in here!” echoed a gruff voice from inside.

  After ten seconds of heavy breathing, Alvin felt his sleeve being pulled up.

  “I think I’m gonna lose it,” he said.

  “They come in different colors,” said Ito. “I like red.”

  Alvin opened his eyes. Ito’s neatly trimmed facial hair was staring him in the face. The bright red of his jumpsuit sat below it.

  “You don’t say,” said Alvin.

  “What’s that?” asked the man.

  “What’s what?” asked Alvin.

  “Sorry, I didn’t understand that. English isn’t my first language.”

  Alvin nodded. “I was just saying that it was obvious.”

  “Oh. Yes. I suppose it is,” he said. “I was just trying to distract you.”

  Alvin felt a pinch in his arm as Ito withdrew a needle.

  He felt a rush of calm come over him. The nausea was gone. He dabbed at his forehead.

  “What was in that?”

  “Dimenhydrinate and ketamine. It will prevent motion sickness, panic, and intracranial pressure. We don’t have time to acclimate you before our spacewalk.”

  “Spacewalk? What do you mean, spacewalk?”

  “You will need to retrieve the hardware. It is keyed to you,” said Ito. “Didn’t the company tell you?”

  “Yes . . . I mean, no. They didn’t tell me it was floating in space,” said Alvin.

  “I think it is actually in a ship, but the ship has been damaged. Probably no atmosphere.”


  A damaged ship with no atmosphere? That means the crew must be dead.

  “Is the crew dead?”

  “I think so,” said Ito. He laughed and pulled Alvin through the next door and into the ship. He tapped the wall and the entry sealed.

  Alvin gazed around. It was dark and cramped. He would have been terrified if he wasn’t so relaxed from the drugs.

  Ito looked at him. “Don’t worry, we have a security man to protect us.” He pointed to someone floating in the corner up near the ceiling.

  Alvin spotted him. A dark-skinned man in blue spun slowly in a lotus position. He had a grim look on his face. He didn’t look interested in an introduction.

  Must be the voice I heard.

  “Is he friendly?” Alvin whispered.

  “Doubt it. He’s stationed here at Armstrong, only seen him a couple times. What’s your name, security man?”

  The man placed a palm against the wall and stopped his spin abruptly. His folded body opened up like a carnivorous plant. His limbs were massive.

  “Don’t fuck with me, ’roider. I got license to shoot who I please—even corpos on secret missions.”

  “I just asked your name, gunman,” said Ito.

  “My name is Bossman, muthafucka.” His eyes bulged when he said it.

  “All right, Bossman, stay frosty,” said Ito. “Let’s go get your EVA suit, Alvin.”

  Ito grabbed Alvin’s sleeve and pulled him aside. He glided through the cabin, towing Alvin along.

  Alvin looked back at Bossman’s glower. They rounded a corner away from his evil eye.

  “What’s his deal?” whispered Alvin.

  “Security don’t get aggro meds. Most people out here get that way . . . if they don’t take their meds.”

  The thought was disconcerting. Alvin had avoided personality reframing because of his cyber-athletics career. He’d managed to escape it his whole life.

  I guess that shot did help. “You’re on medication?”

  “Naw. I don’t put that poison in me. I use cannabis,” said Ito.

  Alvin laughed.

  “That doesn’t cause you problems?”

  “You are funny, Baylor. If one forgets something out here, they’re dead. So pay attention.”

  “Got it. Call me Alvin.”

  “Toshiro. I go by Tosh.”

  Alvin felt helpless in zero-g, but being pulled along with the nausea gone made it almost enjoyable.

  They stopped inside a larger room. Spacesuits of various colors were affixed to the far wall. Each featured different colors, patterns, and exterior molding. They were a mix of metals and soft fabrics.

  “Now listen up,” said Tosh. “The jumpsuits we’re wearing are the inner layer. You’ll need one of those to survive the vacuum of space.” He pointed at the wall of suits.

  “Which one is mine?”

  “None of them. You ever use a Tailormatic on Earth?”

  Alvin nodded.

  “Same method. Suits and liners are customized. You can replace that old green thing. That’s your fitting station.” Tosh pointed to an upright glass cylinder in the corner. “Print job takes about an hour.”

  “Good. This thing doesn’t even fit. How long till we get where we’re going?”

  “About a day to the crash site. Just make sure you play through the manuals. Especially the chapters on propulsion and air supply.”

  This is coming fast now. No red tape. No bureaucrats.

  “You’re talking to tech support here. RTFM is not a problem,” said Alvin.

  “Good. We’ve lost people who didn’t take this seriously. Synaptics are used to control the propulsion packs. I will be with you for support, but nothing will prep you like the VR trainer. I had a guy pass out from the strain once during a spacewalk. Don’t do that to me.”

  He hasn’t pulled a search on me.

  “I don’t think you’ll have that problem with me.” Alvin pointed to his temple implants.

  Tosh nodded. “I see why they sent you. When you’re done with the tailor and the manuals, get some rest. Watch some streams or whatever you do to chill. When we get to Ida, you’ll meet the rest of us. There’s only a few corpos, so it’s chill.”

  Tosh turned away then stopped himself, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to . . .”

  “Don’t worry, I’m not C-class, I’m maintenance,” said Alvin.

  The man nodded. “Right. Peace!” He pushed off out of the room.

  “Hey, where can I get something to eat?” said Alvin.

  Tosh replied over his shoulder, “Food printer’s in the main hold. The recipes are limited, though. The one at the base is better. Peace!”

  Nutri-Paste, yuck.

  Tosh floated away.

  Must be in a rush to go get high. He’s all right, certainly conscientious for a stoner.

  Alvin looked back at the row of suits. His thoughts were racing.

  A fucking spacewalk. Jesus.

  He gripped his way along some pipes to the translucent Tailormatic tube and touched its surface to wake it. He entered the cylinder and cycled through the color options. It offered countless customizations. His mind drifted to thoughts of Katy as he dialed through the settings.

  What is she doing now?

  He missed her. She always kept him calm.

  Does she miss me?

  Then from the back of his mind came the urge for a drink. He pushed it away. A designer space suit would have to be his solace for now.

  Alvin approached the airlock wearing what he believed to be the snazziest custom EVA suit ever designed. He’d colored it in metallic blue with golden lightning bolts that ran the length of his limbs.

  Toshiro Ito was waiting for him, helmet in hand, decked out in red and white. His mouth hung open when he looked at Alvin.

  I think I look good in my old team colors.

  “Too much?” said Alvin.

  “Man, they gave me hell when I said safety ops should be all red,” said Tosh.

  Bossman laughed. He was outfitted in black with “Security” emblazoned in white on the front and back of his suit. He was armed with a pulse rifle.

  “I thought I could design it however I wanted,” said Alvin.

  “Punk fool,” said Bossman.

  Tosh grinned. “Dude, you look like a superhero. It’s badass.”

  “Thanks.”

  Alvin made a face at Bossman, who just shook his head and put his helmet on.

  “You go through the sims?” asked Tosh.

  “Yep,” said Alvin.

  “Good. The wreck is orbit locked in an asteroid field. Autopilot can’t move the ship any closer so I’m gonna take us out there.”

  Tosh attached a tether line to Alvin’s waist then hooked it to his own.

  “Helmet on,” he said.

  Alvin did as he was told. The room ambiance fell away, leaving only the sound of his own breathing. Then Tosh pressed his face guard right up against him, looking into his eyes.

  “Do not use your thrusters until I tell you to do so. I will power us there.” His voice echoed slightly. It was coming over the comm channel now.

  “Understood,” said Alvin. After a night’s rest and some zero-g acclimation, he had just gotten comfortable. Now he was faced with being spun every which way in the black void of space.

  Just don’t puke.

  The men stepped forward to the door.

  “Stay the fuck out of my way,” said Bossman. “I go point and if there’s trouble, I take care of it.”

  “Sure thing,” said Tosh.

  The hulking man tapped the wall. Two overlapping crescent-shaped panels parted and slid back into the circular doorframe. He went through first, then Tosh, and finally Alvin. All three floated in a line down the cylinder.

  Tosh and Bossman kicked their legs down and locked magnetic boots to the deck. They stood up normally. Tosh nodded at Alvin.

  He peeped the proper command in his heads-up display and felt a small reverberation as his feet clamped down
on the floor.

  That’s better.

  “All in,” said Tosh.

  Bossman tapped the wall and the metal panels arced back down into place behind them.

  Perspiration clung to Alvin’s temples. He stared at the ground as they marched forward. Suddenly he felt a tugging and was surprised when he looked up to find no one touching him. The door ahead was open now. The sensation had been air pressure rushing out into space.

  He took a deep breath, then clomped his boots on the deck and stopped behind Tosh. Beyond the two men was an open circle of stars. Alvin was conscious of the sound of his own breathing—the stillness—and the infinite expanse that lay ahead.

  Bossman jumped first. He floated outward for maybe ten feet, then small plumes of dust shot from the thruster jets along his limbs as he dove down out of view.

  Fuck.

  Toshiro tugged at the waist tether and Alvin stepped alongside him at the edge. The small tunnel opened to the vastness of space.

  His guts swirled around in nervous tension. He felt the affixed drops of perspiration wiggle on his face.

  Tosh looked at him. His visor had turned copper to protect against the stellar lights. “Release your boots,” he said.

  Alvin obeyed and he came up off the ground, knees bent. Then Toshiro Ito jumped. Alvin was transfixed by the caduceus on the man’s back as he flowed out the exit. He hardly noticed the tether at his waist as it drew away. It pulled him right out the door, surprisingly gentle.

  His view broadened as the expanse of twinkling space enveloped him. He looked down at a vista of spinning rocks that overlapped stars and a mangled bronze solar collector. The ship spun slowly below amid the debris.

  This is not so bad.

  Alvin thought of childhood snorkeling in the Caribbean. How beautifully clear the water had been and how crisp the reef and sea life had looked below him. He also remembered his fear of the dangers that lurked beneath the surface.

  Then Tosh crossed down into his view with thrusters firing and Alvin gritted his teeth. He prepared himself to be yanked downward, but again found the motion to be surprisingly mild. His nerves softened.

  I’ll have this damn thing soon and be on to Ida and then back to Katy.