Tales from the Kurtherian Universe: Fans Write For The Fans: Book 3

by Michael Anderle

  The sky acquired a sudden red hue. Dawn was coming.

  Fabien clambered across the top of the tank and grabbed the barrels of the two machine guns. They were still firing, turning to follow the doctor. He bent the barrels of both of them back on themselves mid-shot. They exploded, knocking him off the tank and causing the driver to skid to the side.

  Hands bleeding, Fabien hopped to his feet and sprinted toward the tank. On the way, he ripped a metal fence post out of the ground, then jumped as high as he could and slammed the post into the fuel tank of the Panzer.

  Petrol shot out and covered Fabien as well as most of the vehicle, but it righted itself and continued after the people running away. They had crossed to another street, and the tank was circling back toward them.

  Fabien looked at the doctor and the fuel tank, and then up at the rising sun. He screamed and grabbed the hole in the tank and started to pull. Metal peeled back, making the opening larger.

  The sun rose above the roof of the farthest building, and as its light touched his skin, it started to burn. The outer layers turning to ash, Fabien's body burned. The fumes from the petrol rising from the tank touched him and ignited. The entire tank went up in flames as it shot down the road, out of control, and sank into the river as the doctor and twenty-five people escaped into the countryside.

  That was the last time the doctor saw Fabien Léonide Bouchard.

  Author Notes Logan Caird

  Thank you for reading one of the first, though hopefully not the last, of my writings in the Kurtherian Gambit Universe. For a number of reasons, this short story hit home. I’ve been to war. I was in the Marines for five years, deployed to Iraq twice for a combined total of eighteen months. During that time, I was shot at, nearly blown up, and saw people shot. It was chance alone that I didn’t see anyone die. When I sat down to write this, I felt a need to treat it with respect, and I hope I did it justice.

  I hope you liked my story. I look forward to having more to tell. If you liked it enough to want to hear from me, please stop by my site LoganCaird.com and sign up for my mailing list, or follow me on Facebook at Logan Caird. I’ll let you know, through both of those, when I write anything new.

  Haiku From The Kurtherian Universe

  Choose Coke or Pepsi?

  You must select rightly, or

  You shall be punished!

  Anyone For Juice

  By Dominic Novielli

  Armi’ is only seven but has enough gumption to be much older. With Conrey, her best and only friend, who she wants to cheer up, after his mother was killed a short time back, by getting his very own anti-gravity sled with translucent holo controls. The only thing stopping her is having enough credits. She happens upon a lucrative business selling juice but there is a problem, it’s addictive and all the Noel-Ni’s on the space station want some every day.

  Take a read and see how Armi’ handles big business and if she’s successful at getting Conrey his sled. And of course her ever present Geddon, as long as she remembers to bring her along, is constantly at her side or she me find her jumpsuits glued together at the legs and arms.

  Chapter One

  What to do about Conrey?

  “Mom?”

  “Yes, dear, what is it?” Armi’s mother looked down at her with sympathetic eyes.

  “What can I do for Conrey?” Armi huffed and smacked the small dining table with both fists, then laid her head down between them. She was trying to figure out a way to help her best friend.

  Her mother walked up behind Armi and bent down to hug her little girl.

  “I’m not sure, dear. What do you think? Any ideas in that turbulent head of yours?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Arghhh!” Armi cried, banging her fists on the tabletop again. Her mother cringed but didn’t say anything.

  With a raised eyebrow, her mother asked, ”Did you ask Geddon, by chance? She has great ideas.” Armi’s mom’s face wore a look of hope, but when Armi nodded, her expression went flat.

  “Oh, dear.” Her mother sighed.

  “I’m going to bed. Maybe I will dream about something I can’t think of while I’m awake.” With a defeated look, Armi stomped into the only room in the small apartment, her bedroom.

  She felt bad about having left Geddon on the bed that morning. “Hey, Geddon. Sorry for leaving you this morning. My mind was on trying to cheer Conrey up, and I’ve failed miserably at that.” Armi trudged to the small bed and collapsed next to Geddon. Her father had picked up the Empress Bethany Anne doll on his travels and installed an EI within it. After she and Conrey had a bit of trouble and having Conrey’s mother pass away, she had finally named her doll “Geddon,” as in “Armi-Geddon.” She liked the play on words.

  “What do you think? Any ideas since this morning about how to cheer Conrey up?” She looked expectantly at Geddon.

  I do have a few ideas, but the main one is to get Conrey something he wants. That would take his mind off his mother being gone. I believe Conrey wants an antigrav sled with holo controls. Is that correct?

  “I think you may be onto something.” Armi smiled, thinking of the look on Conrey’s face as he gazed at his new antigrav sled and played with the translucent holo controls. Her face fell immediately, though.

  “Damn, who am I kidding? Those things cost a lot of credits, and in case you haven’t noticed, we don’t have any.” She grimaced and pushed her head into her pillow to yell out her frustration without disturbing the entire space station.

  Armi, I don’t believe yelling is going to solve your problem. What have we been going over in school the past few days?

  If Geddon could issue a reprimand, she would have used a voice like that. Armi, ashamed of having yelled like that, looked at the floor instead of Geddon. “I’m sorry, Geddon, but I am out of ideas. I know the Empress would not give in. She would come up with a kick-ass plan to get Conrey his sled.”

  So, what do you think we could do to get the sled? There are many ways to get credits. Let me calculate your chances of getting the amount of credit you need by doing the odd jobs on the space station, and how long it would take to accumulate the required amount.

  “Calculate all you want. It won’t make a difference. That sled is way too much. It would take years to earn enough.” With a defeated look, Armi thought about her father and what he was doing at that moment. It had been months since he had been home, and she missed him.

  “Geddon?” Armi asked the EI.

  Yes, Armi? How can I be of service?

  Armi picked the doll up and cradled her in her arms. “You will never leave me, will you?” A look of dread crossed Armi’s face, and she had a deep sadness settled into the pit of her stomach, which felt like she ate a black hole.

  I will never leave you, Armi. We are friends, are we not? No, we are sisters, since your father created me.

  Geddon was silent after that sage comment, and she hugged Geddon to her and closed her eyes. With a slight smile, she fell into a dream of Conrey and her gliding down the station’s halls on a new deep-purple antigrav sled with holo controls.

  Chapter Two

  An Idea about Juice

  Armi woke up early, ate her breakfast of nutrients and lamnas bread, and took a quick sonic shower in the shared bathroom area. After dressing, she took off, leaving her mother swaddled in blankets on the makeshift sofa that her dad had put together for her mother and him as their bed. Armi quietly shut the door and with a gloomy expression went over to see Conrey. She was going to try to get him to take an interest in something. Anything.

  “Conrey, are you there? Open the god-for-damit door already!” Armi yelled, knocking several times on the door to his father’s and his living quarters. Before Armi could yell again, she heard the door lock click and saw the latch twist.

  “Conrey, It’s Armi. Let me in.”

  “Why? There’s nobody here,” Conrey replied in a sluggish voice with zero enthusiasm. Armi shook her head and pushed the door open. Conrey was thrown back
by the strength Armi used and landed on his backside. He glared at her as he got off the floor.

  “Well, that’s a better look on you. I’d rather you get angry than see that god-awful sorry-ass bistok-poop-eating depressed look that’s been on your face lately.” Armi smirked at him and plopped down on their real couch. Before Conrey’s mother had passed, she’d worked for that screwed up big wig Noel-ni, Papyon, and she had made good credit while it lasted. With that job and the engineering Conrey’s father did for the space station, they had enough credits to afford the better things in life.

  Conrey almost smiled at Armi’s flagrant use of swear words. He thought she could impress the Empress with her vulgarity.

  “Armi, what do you want? It’s not a good time. I’d rather be alone.” Conrey repeated the same excuses in the same bland tone he’d been using for the last few months. Armi was sick of it and glared daggers at Conrey with her violet eyes. Armi was part-Torcellan and part-Kezzin, which should not have been possible. She was a beautiful girl of seven with light reddish skin up to her neck, and from there her coloring changed to a light burnt orange color, making her face look as if she had gotten the best tan of her life. She had no hair, like her Kezzin father, but rather a cartilage structure on her head that looked like a hat or a crown, if you saw her from a distance.

  “Conrey!” Armi growled. Conrey backed up a little with a worried expression. “I’m only going to say this once. You’re coming with me today, or I swear by the Empress’ teats that you and I will trade blows until one of us isn’t walking anymore.” The look Armi gave Conrey left no doubt that she meant every word. Conrey gulped loudly and nodded.

  “Okay, then, let’s be off.” Armi chirped, her anger instantly gone. Conrey let out the breath he didn’t know he had been holding in a huge sigh. He meekly followed Armi out the door.

  “First stop, Mrs. Gatoroid’s fruit stand,” Armi told Conrey pleasantly over her shoulder as she skipped toward the central chamber where shopkeepers on the station sold their wares. The lower levels of the rotunda were designed in large concentric circles. They were in the center of the station, so there was no looking at the stars from there even if you wanted to, although most didn’t care. They were so far from known civilization that the station didn’t even have a proper name. It was just called “the space station,” or at least that was all Armi or Conrey had ever heard it called. As Armi skipped ahead, and Conrey shuffled behind, Mrs. Gatoroid finished with a few customers.

  Mrs. Gatoroid’s fruit stand was one of a kind. She was an older Torcellan who traveled about searching for exotic fruit to stock her stands and on one of her expeditions came across the station. Armi didn’t know why she even bothered with this station but was glad she did. Every once in a while, when the customer traffic died down, she would tell Armi, Geddon, and Conrey stories of the Empress and her Bitches.

  “Hey there, Mrs. Gatoroid. How is the fruit business?” Armi pleasantly asked the distinguished lady, who was wearing a very new jumpsuit, while the last group of customers walked away chatting.

  “Why, if it isn’t my favorite youngsters! Visiting an old lady to make her final days sunnier?” She laughed, and the sparkle in her eyes made Armi smile. Conrey was still gloomy. He stood looking down at his feet, apparently finding them very interesting at that moment.

  With a knowing look, Mrs. Gatoroid picked up a large berry type fruit and tossed it to Conrey. “Catch, young man. If it hits the ground, you get to clean it up.” Conrey quickly looked up and barely grabbed the firm fruit before it was too late.

  “Good catch, Conrey.” Armi smiled at him, which he didn’t return. He grimaced instead. “You’re impossible.” Armi threw her hands up in exasperation and blew out a noisy breath. Mrs. Gatoroid chuckled and handed one of the fruits to Armi.

  “Here ya go, young lady. A growing girl needs her vitamins. Those berries carry a large dose of what ya need.” She winked at Armi and sat on a chair next to her stand.

  “What shall it be today, an Empress saga, or one about a fight for Justice with the Bitches giving a beating to those who deserved it?” She looked at Conrey, who shrugged as he ate. The pink juice dripped down his chin, which he didn’t seem to notice, but he did seem to enjoy the sweet fruit. Armi was a little more cautious and kept her mouth clean by only taking small bites.

  “The Bitches for sure!” Armi replied enthusiastically and giggled. With a fond smile, Mrs. Gatoroid began her tale just as another group of customers walked over.

  “Ah, Mrs. Gatoroid, a pleasure as always.” A slender businessman with short hair and a clean-shaven face smiled at Armi as he greeted Mrs. Gatoroid. Those with him stood silently while he conducted his business. “Do you have the containers we discussed last quarter?”

  “I do, I do. Let me see, where did I put them?” Mrs. Gatoroid tapped her chin for a moment then started pulling up tarps that covered a multitude of boxes. “Ah, here we go.” She waved the man over to show him his prize with a celebratory smile.

  “I believe we negotiated a slightly higher price for removing the contents before delivery, not ones still containing fruit.” The man went from pleasant to all business in the blink of an eye.

  “Oh, dear. Was that what we agreed to? Well, if that was the case I’ll remove the fruit for ya, but it will take me today and part of tomorrow to finish. I hope that will not be too much of an inconvenience?” Mrs. Gatoroid put her hands together as if praying and looked sheepishly up at the man. He was at least a foot taller than her.

  “Fine, fine. I’ll send someone around suppertime tomorrow to pick up the crate.” He shook her hand and quickly left with his entourage in pursuit as he walked to the gravity lifts at the side of the rotunda.

  “Wow, that was a little intense,” Armi exclaimed, looking into the crate of fruit the man had ordered.

  “Not really. I remembered our deal. I was just hoping he hadn’t.” Mrs. Gatoroid scratched her head. “Well, my dear, the story will have to wait. I have a lot of work to accomplish. Sorry, but work is work.”

  “Ah, Mrs. Gatoroid, can Conrey and me help you? That is, we’ll help for a little credit,” Armi asked, looking sweet and unassuming.

  Mrs. Gatoroid looked Armi up and down, did the same to Conrey, and finally nodded in agreement. “A credit per empty fruit container, and there are about a hundred and fifty of them.” The fruit seller raised her eyebrows at them, waiting for the youngsters to back out because they had bitten off more than they could chew. Armi was determined to make enough money to get Conrey that antigrav sled, and put her hand out to seal the deal. She looked over at Conrey, who was stubbing his foot into the deck plating and felt a mixture of emotions well up inside.

  Mrs. Gatoroid showed them which tools to use. First, they had to make a small hole with one tool, and then they used another that looked like a thin metal gun. When the trigger was depressed, a bunch of whips came out of the end and spun. You put the tip of the gun to the hole, and the whips went through it and mashed up the fruit. When the fruit was properly liquefied, the tool was removed, and the contents could be emptied by turning it over a barrel to catch the thin yellow pulp and juice.

  “This is fun, isn’t that right, Conrey?” Armi asked him sarcastically.

  “It’s ok, I guess.”

  Armi was going to make Conrey happy if it killed her. Armi growled at him and went back to draining the fruit. After a few of them were done, Armi dipped her finger into the juice to taste it.

  “Ugh! That tastes terrible!” Plooey, plaw, plaw. Armi spat the juice onto the floor.

  “Doesn’t taste very good, does it, dear?” Mrs. Gatoroid asked Armi as she came from the back of the booth. “Well, it’s only been a few minutes, and I see you have already done ten of them. Very good, very good. At that pace, you may be done by tonight.” She smiled at Armi and Conrey. “You know, it might make it more palatable if you combined that bland juice with a really sweet one. I’ve never had a reason to try since the deal was for the container
rather than what was in it.” She looked again at the finished empty fruit containers and let out a satisfied sigh, giving them a soft smile as she walked over to greet new customers.

  The combining of juices gave Armi an idea, and she whispered her idea to Conrey. “How about we mix berry juice, maybe from the one we had earlier, with the juice from this one? If it tastes good, we can sell it and make a load of credit.” Armi was excited about the idea, but Conrey’s mood was putting a damper on her excitement. She frowned at him and waited for Mrs. Gatoroid to be free so that she could ask for another berry and taste-test her idea.

  A short time later, with the mixed juices. “Well?” Armi asked Conrey, after he took a sip.

  “It’s ok. Not anything special, but it’s refreshing, and I feel a little better just tasting it.” Conrey was subdued with his emotions, and his response grated on Armi’s nerves.

  She huffed. “You could be a little more enthusiastic about it.”

  “It’s okay. It’s worth a credit to me.” Conrey was trying to placate Armi, but he knew she had an agenda and he had nothing to do with it—which made him that much more depressed.

  “Ok, then. Mrs. Gatoroid said we can have the pulp insides, and she will still pay us. And, since we need the berry to make the stuff sweeter, she agreed to give us enough berries to make the whole batch palatable.” Armi had a tough time pronouncing that last word—palatable. She’d had to say it several times when she’d heard Mrs. Gatoroid use it.

  Chapter Three

  Making more than a killing

  After they’d emptied all the fruit containers, it was dinnertime for Conrey and Armi, and they had to get home.