by C H Gideon
Jiya met his eyes and offered a soft but tentative smile. “Hi, Takal. I was wondering how you were.”
It was a loaded question, one he wasn’t sure he wanted to answer. It always upset him and guaranteed he’d drink more than a reasonable amount of his daily whiskey allotment. Speaking of which, he picked up his mug and downed what remained before answering.
“I’m doing well, Jiya,” he prevaricated, not wanting to go down that particular rabbit hole.
Jiya muffled a laugh and came over, giving him a hug, her arms unable to wrap all the way around his ever-expanding waistline. “You don’t need to lie to me, Takal.”
He sighed, realizing he was actually glad to see her, and returned her hug. “I hope you know the same applies to you, young lady.”
She broke away and met his gaze for a moment before nodding. “I understand,” she answered. “And since we’re being totally honest…” she split her focus between the two, “I’ve come here for a reason besides a social call, although I should have come for just that long ago.”
Takal nodded, having already realized that. Geroux put on her questioning face, which consisted of a scrunched nose, narrowed eyes, and a peeled-back upper lip.
“What do you mean, Jiya?” Geroux asked, worry in her voice. “What’s going on? Is everything okay? Are you hurt?”
“Oh, nothing bad,” Jiya replied, doing her best to ease their concerns and ward off the barrage of questions. “In fact, it’s kind of fantastic, really.”
“Of course, it is,” called a voice from the door.
Takal and Geroux spun, staring at the strange being looming in their doorway.
“I thought I told you to wait outside until I called you in,” Jiya growled at the newcomer.
“But it’s boring out there,” he stated emotionlessly. “Do you know how many threads there are in the ragged carpet that runs the length of the hallway? Let me tell you. Two million, four hundred-eighty thousand, five—”
“We really don’t need to know that, Reynolds,” Jiya told him, waving him all the way inside. “Just come in and shut the damn door, would ya?”
“Yessir!” he snapped, slamming the door shut and stomping over to stand alongside her.
“Is that…one of the Jonny taxi androids?” Geroux asked, staring at Reynolds.
“Yes,” Jiya answered.
“No,” Reynolds contradicted. “I just have one of those familiar faces. I get that all the time. ‘Hey, you’re one of those Jonny guys!’ ‘No, I’m not,’ I have to tell them each time it comes up. Sheesh. It gets tiring, I have to say.”
Jiya nodded, sweeping aside his drawn-out deflection.
Reynolds loosed a disappointed sigh.
“Anyway…” Jiya started, making sure Reynolds was done defending his androidness before she went on, “Reynolds here is an AI.”
Takal harrumphed and leaned in to take a closer look at Reynolds.
“He looks like a Jonny taxi android to me, too,” he said. “I’d hardly call that an AI. The last Jonny taxi I rode in couldn’t even get the card reader to work. A monkey could make the thing work.”
“I’m not a Jonny driver. I stole an android body to look more like one of you and move around town less obviously. For this conversation to move forward, you’ll need to accept that premise.”
“Just noting that my Jonny taxi experiences haven’t exactly been…reassuring.”
Reynolds didn’t bother to argue. He’d made his point.
“Fair enough,” Takal finally agreed, retreating from the argument.
“Good, then can we get on with why we’re here?” the android asked.
“Yes, please,” Takal said. “Do tell us why you are here.”
“Well,” both Reynolds and Jiya said at the same time. “No, you go ahead,” they told each other in unison. Both grunted.
Jiya raised a finger, warning Reynolds off so they didn’t keep parroting each other. “We’re here to offer you a job. Both of you.”
“A job?” Takal asked for clarification. “What kind of job are we looking at? I can’t be crawling around under chassis like some grease monkey these days.” Takal stuck his broad belly out and patted it. “I’m not exactly in fighting shape anymore, not since…”
He paused, realizing he was about to mention the time he’d spent in Lemaire’s prison, but he held back those words and swallowed them. He saw Jiya bite her lower lip, drawing it into her mouth. She clearly knew what he’d meant to say. The last thing he wanted to do was dredge up bad memories for her or himself.
“But yeah, I’m not exactly in the market for a job these days.”
“Don’t be so difficult, Uncle,” Geroux cut in. “We don’t even know the details. Let’s get more information, and then we can decide if it’s right for us or not.”
Jiya shook her head, clearly not believing a word. “We’re looking to offer you both jobs.” She patted Reynolds on his metallic shoulder. “Despite his many…many failings, this is an opportunity for all of us to get out from under my father’s thumb for good. To get away from his politics, which are tearing this planet apart.” She gestured to the vidscreen. “I know you’ve been watching the news, Takal. You always do. You’ve seen what’s going on.”
Takal stiffened, but Geroux only grinned. “Yeah?” she asked. There was no hiding her excitement at the prospect of a new adventure.
“Yeah,” Jiya answered, meeting her friend’s wide smile. “Reynolds here is actually a superdreadnought, believe it or not. Ix-nay on the Onny-jay axi-tay.”
“I understood that,” Reynolds grumbled.
“So, his Queen sent him on a mission, and he needs a crew to do all the things he can’t do on his own.” She grinned broader and winked at Geroux. “The pay and benefits are generous, too.”
“Who said anything about benefits?” Reynolds questioned.
Jiya cast a dirty look his direction. “He can be a bit of a smartass, though, since he’s getting used to dealing with people. It will be a lot to get used to, trust me. I’m not even remotely there myself. But beyond his quirks and the split personalities, this job is an opportunity to start over. A way to take back a lot of what my father has stolen from you, starting first with your freedom.”
“Split personalities?” Geroux asked.
“Out of all that, you pick out the personality bit?” Reynolds asked. “That gives me insight into your mind. Jiya said you were a scientist. I shall enjoy working with you.”
Geroux shrugged. “It was the most glaring piece of information.”
“I’ll explain all that later,” Jiya assured her.
Takal stood quietly for a moment, contemplating the offer and wondering just what he’d be getting him and Geroux into if he agreed to it.
Everything he knew was on Lariest, but did any of that matter anymore?
Lemaire had taken his workshop away—the place Geroux and Jiya had played so often. Had robbed him of his tools and equipment and finances, and had effectively banned him from any position that allowed him to work on the tech he so loved. But if this AI superdreadnought could give him even a portion of that back, he would be more than willing to put up with the thing’s quirks.
In fact, he’d be ecstatic.
Anything was better than growing old in his house, withering from boredom.
Still, he had questions. He didn’t want to trade one tyrant for another. He could hide from Lemaire in his house, but out in space, there was nowhere to run if things went bad.
“What kind of work would I be doing for you?”
“Tech work, Takal,” Jiya answered for Reynolds. “Same as you did for my father, only without the restraints or expectations based on political ramifications. You could go back to experimenting, inventing things to help people live better lives.”
“Well…to be honest, we have a militaristic side,” Reynolds corrected, butting in. “Sure, we’ll let you experiment and build things—inventions that have a positive impact on society at large—but I’m not going to li
e. A lot of your efforts will go toward ridding the universe of Kurtherians. That is my singular focus, all foibles aside. I need a crew to help me hunt down and destroy them.”
“What are those?” Geroux asked.
“Filthy, filthy aliens,” Reynolds mumbled, and Takal could hear the absolute disgust in the mechanical tones of the android. “They have defiled the universe, but now the Queen is fighting back. She has single-handedly returned a vast section of space to the people. I am out here searching the farthest corner of the galaxy for them. When we find them, we will destroy them.
“You want me to participate in genocide?” Takal asked pointedly.
“The liberation of the universe is at stake. As long as we keep driving the Kurtherians before us, sentient beings will be free to determine their own destinies. The chance of us killing a Kurtherian is remote, so ‘destroy’ includes sending them to a different plane of existence. We will remove the remaining scum from our dimension, and we’ll be better because of it.”
“We will talk more about that, but I think I understand. And there are jobs for both of us?” Takal asked. “For Geroux and me?”
His niece had been affected as much as he had by Lemaire’s crackdown on their family. She could hardly do the things she wanted; couldn’t advance in her chosen field of research because of the president. Couldn’t even finish her schooling. She rarely left the house these days, and Takal had begun to fear for her. It wasn’t good for a young woman to be trapped at home all the time, no friends to hang out with, nothing to do but study. With this offer, at least she would be with Jiya and whoever else was part of the crew.
“Most definitely,” Jiya replied. “We need a researcher and computer programmer of her caliber aboard the ship. Plus, she can see the universe and learn far more about it than she ever could here on dusty old Lariest.” Jiya looked at each in turn, settling on Takal. “So, what do you say? Are you interested?”
He swallowed hard and cleared his throat. “I say, I’m in if Geroux is.” He glanced at his niece and her grin illuminated the room, making it clear what her decision was.
“I’m soooooo in.” She leapt forward and dragged Jiya into a fierce hug. “Can you imagine how much is out there? What I can study and learn about?”
“What both of us can,” Jiya told her friend.
“This is fantastic and all,” Reynolds told them, “but we have more people to recruit. At this rate, it’ll be a week before we can get back into space. Every second is one more second that the Kurtherians can run.”
Takal raised an eyebrow, staring at Reynolds.
Jiya nodded. “He said ‘singularly focused.’ Will they need any of their equipment?”
Reynolds stroked his chin, a new gesture for him. “Show me what you have, and I’ll check if it is onboard or can be fabricated.”
Takal shook his head. “I wasn’t allowed any equipment. Anything you have is more than I have. So, when do we leave?”
“Right now, actually,” Reynolds answered. “We’ll drop you off at the shuttle while we go about collecting the rest of the crew. I need immediate repairs so we can be about our mission. You’ll be put to work as soon as you arrive onboard.”
“Go pack,” Jiya told them, “then meet us outside. We’ll be waiting in the cab that’s parked there.”
“So, you really are a Jonny taxi driver,” Geroux joked, offering Reynolds a sly grin as she shot down the hall toward her room.
“I am going to need a makeover soon,” Reynolds muttered, then turned his gaze on Takal. “Think you can rustle me up a new body?” he asked. “One that isn’t…this?” He gestured to the Jonny form. “No offense—although judging by Jiya’s previous reactions to similar comments I’m sure you’re still going to be offended—but I could use an overhaul. A new frame to pack my brilliance into. Preferably one without red skin and black hair. That particular contrast is quite unfortunate. I don’t know how you people look at yourself every day. I really don’t.”
“I can most certainly give it a try,” Takal answered with a chuckle, ignoring the slight. “I’ve worked on mechanoids of all sorts over the years. If you have a decent shop with a cache of spare parts, I can probably get you fixed up.”
“My kingdom for a real body,” Reynolds muttered. “Anyway, get packed, my fellow scientist. We need to get a move on. Places to see, things to be, or something like that.”
Takal nodded and started off, leaving Jiya and the android in the living room while he went to collect his thoughts and figure out what he wanted to take on an adventure across the galaxy.
He wasn’t sure what to think about Reynolds’ offer, but he couldn’t help but appreciate the opportunity to start over, even if he was a bit old for jaunting about the universe. Still, he planned to make the most of it, if only for Geroux’s sake.
Now, what does one wear aboard a superdreadnought?
Chapter Eight
“Please welcome Ka’nak, a great warrior of the Melowi people and master of the Larian Pit, having over fifty victories within its storied walls,” an announcer screamed over the rumbling crowd that had gathered to watch the bloodbath. “Standing over two meters tall and weighing in at one hundred and fifty-nine kilograms, Ka’nak the Merciless is ready to do battle!”
“I like this one,” Reynolds muttered, staring at Ka’nak, the enforcer Jiya insisted they collect as their next acquisition for the crew. The red-skinned man paced back and forth, muscles flexed, malevolence swirling in his eyes. He glared out at the crowd. “I thought you were the hothead?” He grinned. “You’ve proven me wrong.”
“Every crew needs a mix of skill sets,” Jiya replied. “A guy who can bust skulls yet still take orders is a must.”
Reynolds grunted. “Well, all I see so far is his skill at growling and looking intimidating.”
“Give it a few seconds,” she answered. “Then you’ll get to see his skill at mopping the floor with someone.”
“A custodial candidate. We have maintenance and cleaning bots for those types of services.”
Jiya groaned and turned her attention back to Ka’nak.
The powerfully-built Melowi howled as he stood at the entrance to the fighting pit below. He looked as broad across the chest as the door was. Jiya was sure he’d gotten even bigger since the last time she’d seen him, which was impressive given how huge he’d already been.
The first time they’d met he’d been a guard of a politician in the Melowi government—Jiya couldn’t remember his name—who was visiting the presidential compound. Ka’nak had stood out even among the rest of the massive men tasked with guarding the Melowi politician. He had strode into the compound like he owned the place.
Not in an “I’m better than you” sort of way, but in a confident way that said you didn’t want to mess with him if you liked having all your limbs attached.
He was so daunting to look at that Jiya’s father’d had the politician assign him to the back of the meeting hall so he wasn’t anywhere near him. The warrior clearly intimidated her dad, which Jiya had found to be quite amusing.
Ka’nak had sneered at her father, staring him down as he moved locations after he’d been given the news. That had only impressed Jiya more.
That wasn’t the reason she’d suggested him to Reynolds, though.
There’d been an incident at the compound. The Melowi government had been going through some political turmoil or other, and they’d sent a representative to meet with Jiya’s father, he and his entourage storming into the compound in a huff.
Jiya had a feeling her dad had been a part of the turmoil, but of course, he had never admitted to it, and no one had ever said anything about it aloud. Still, she could tell just by watching the smug smile on his face that he had to keep wiping away.
Anyway, a man leapt out of the crowd as the Melowi politician passed. The would-be assassin raised his gun, but Ka’nak was on him before he could pull the trigger.
Jiya could remember the revolting snap as the assa
ssin’s wrist was bent backward. She saw bones burst from his skin, jagged white pieces jutting from auburn flesh, and then Ka’nak got mean.
One hand on the assassin’s shattered wrist, he slid his other hand over the man’s head and dug his fingers into his eyes, using the leverage to hold the assassin in place. Jiya cringed, her stomach churning as she recalled the incident.
A mix of silvery fluid and blood poured down the man’s face as Ka’nak pressed his fingers deeper. Jiya could have sworn she’d heard wet pops over the man’s shrieks of terror, but even now she knew that was impossible. That she’d only imagined it.
That had been bad enough.
Ka’nak had twisted the man around to face the crowd, then driven his knee into his lower back. This time she was absolutely certain she’d heard the sounds of the man’s agony as his spine gave way with a sharp crack. It sounded like a great tree had split in half, wood splintering as it collapsed to the ground.
Fonts of blood spewed from his ruined eyes as Ka’nak bent him backward, nearly folding him in half, and rode him to the floor. The assassin spasmed and thrashed, still alive, likely too deep in shock to even realize he should surrender and die.
Ka’nak, however, seemed to revel in the man’s torment. Like a feral beast, the Melowi warrior had straddled his victim and slammed the assassin’s head into the ground over and over and over, until there was nothing left but a wet puddle marred by chunks of bone and brain.
At last, Ka’nak yanked his hand free of the dead man’s skull. Jiya was sure she’d seen the remnants of the man’s eyes lingering there, oozing from Ka’nak’s fingertips. He leapt to his feet and roared, a lion over his prey, and the crowd backed away, fearing for their lives.
That was when Ka’nak had straightened and shaken the blood from his hands, collecting the assassin’s weapon before returning to his post. Jiya, too stunned to move, had stood there as he did all this, the rest of the crowd having left her there alone. He met her gaze, impressed by her courage—he’d confessed that later and she had never contradicted his assertion, but it had really been terror that had made her stand her ground, not bravery—and winked at her.
