by N M Tatum
“The likely potential of bug guts on our boots?” Joel teased.
“Our own business,” Reggie corrected. “We’re entrepreneurs. Small business owners. The backbone of the intergalactic community. The salt of the galaxy. We’re making our way with an honest day’s work. We’re pest control specialists.”
“You aren’t selling it like you think you are,” Joel said, setting back to tinkering.
“There are major infestations all over the galaxy,” Reggie began, that familiar glint in his eyes when he spoke about the new business. “These space bugs are apparently destroying enough infrastructure to economically cripple a system. Don’t you want to be a part of ridding the galaxy of such evil?”
“Yeah, maybe,” Joel said with a chuckle. “Mostly, I want some pancakes right now. Like the kind they serve at those fancy hotels.”
Cody opened the cabinet next to the refrigerator and pulled out a sealed foil packet. “These freeze-dried meals are kind of like a continental breakfast.” He dangled it like it was radioactive. “I think this one is eggs.”
Joel tossed the oxygen regulator aside. It clattered on the table, and many of the pieces he’d just reaffixed fell off. “It’s not just that—the food and stuff. The bug guts everywhere. I miss gaming, man. When was the last time we all played a session together?”
Cody and Reggie looked at each other and shrugged.
“It’s taken a lot of our time, setting up the new business,” Reggie said. “And soon we’re going to need to start taking as many jobs as we can if we want to keep the ship fueled and our cabinets full of freeze-dried eggs.”
“Not to mention that whole altruistic part about saving the galaxy,” Cody added.
Joel sighed and sank further into his chair. As he slid down, so, too, did the mood on the ship. Reggie could justify and bright-side all he wanted, but he felt the same way. Cody did too. That pang of loss. They’d given up their dream of gaming for a more practical one: pest control.
The silence pressed down on them.
Then Reggie clapped his hands and jumped to his feet. “Let’s do it.”
“Do what?” Cody asked as he flossed a hunk of freeze-dried something from between his teeth.
“Play Death Match,” Reggie said. “We’ve got the old system in storage. Let’s dig it out and hook it up.”
“Can we even get a signal way out here?” Though his sentiment was skeptical, Cody’s tone was anything but. His voice was laced with eagerness.
They looked to Joel for the answer. He shrugged, not wanting to get too excited, or maybe just choosing to be more cautious than optimistic.
“I could boost the signal,” he offered. “Wouldn’t be too hard get a decent enough line out here. There’s a hub on Draxus.”
“But we haven’t paid a subscription fee in months,” Reggie said.
Cody scoffed. “You know I can hack us into the network.”
Joel allowed himself to smile finally. “You think anyone will be logged on?”
“Who cares?” Reggie asked. “If we’re the only ones, then we’ll play a system-generated match. Show that AI how good we still are.”
The Notches didn’t need to say anything more. Reggie ran to the storage closet and dug out the old system. Joel helped him hook it up while Cody rigged them up a connection. The old joy returned as they plugged in, and that familiar jingle sounded as the system booted up. They each logged in, entering their usernames like emerging from a dementia cloud, remembering some long-forgotten identity.
The guys played for hours. It felt like no time had passed as they slipped easily into their former gaming roles. Reggie taking the lead, Joel covering his ass and Cody bringing up the rear. Suddenly it was like they were back in Joel’s garage, playing for the very first time…and it looked like it, too. Towers of empty soda cans, torn open bags of rations, and a stink on the air so thick you could almost see it. Their eyes were bloodshot, and their hair matted to their foreheads with grease and sweat. It was glorious. None of the Notches were thinking about work in the morning, when they would start their new job as independent pest controllers on some space station with a bug problem.
They were fragging virtual opponents now; the real fragging would start soon enough.
Chapter Two
Sector 12 Transgalactic Station
The skittering that echoed from the dark recesses of Sector 12 Transgalactic Station reminded Joel of the sound of chattering teeth. A child hanging on the edge of a pool, freezing, but unwilling to get out. Stubbornness that served only to torture the child.
Kids are so stupid. They can rarely tell the difference between what is good for them and what is bad.
Joel was suddenly unsure whether he’d matured beyond that childish logic as the creatures swarmed around him in the dark corridor. He was certain this job would put some coins in his pocket, maybe set him back on a path toward professional gaming. But there was also the real possibility that it was only going to get his ass eaten off by a giant space bug.
“You all see anything yet?” Reggie’s voice sounded over the comm. It was deep and husky and might have brought Joel some comfort if it was coming from beside him rather than a different floor of the station. “I’m starting to think this job is a bust.”
“I definitely hear something,” Joel said. “Haven’t seen anything yet.”
Cody mumbled something indecipherable.
“Are you flossing again?” Joel asked him.
“Maybe,” Cody said. “Nothing more important than a healthy mouth. But me neither. Haven’t seen anything.” The comms made Cody sound even more nasally than he did in person. “No sightings. No nothing. This place is lame.”
Joel’s gut clenched. “You guys really need to stop saying that. That is how every horror movie starts. Some jackass wandering through the dark, all ‘this place is the least scary place I’ve ever been to.’ And you know what happens next?”
“He survives to father a long lineage of handsome children?” Reggie asked.
“He gets his face eaten,” Joel said. “And eggs deposited in his brain. Little baby alien larvae crawling around his brain stem. You want that to happen to you?”
The comms fell quiet. Joel could only hear the sound of chattering teeth and his own thumping heart. He continued exploring his level of the station, moving quietly through the dark, nearly having a heart attack as he approached every corner.
He hadn’t gotten the specifics of the station since Reggie was the one who’d booked the job. However, from the schematics that he’d studied, Joel gathered that the place was a shipping hub, one of a thousand in this sector of the galaxy. Cargo comes in, it gets sorted, it goes out. Like a post office in space. Boring place.
Well, until infested with ShimVen—the creepy crawlies they’d come to kill. They were pests new to this part of the galaxy, so not much was known about them. Cody had been doing some research, since one of his hobbies was studying bugs. It was one of the reasons Reggie had concocted the pest control business idea. And it had definitely appealed to Cody from the start. However, he was used to studying small beetles and such that were seemingly harmless. Not ShimVen who could sever a human head. The Notches teased Cody incessantly about his strange fascination with bugs since the beginning.
“Why can’t you be into robots?” Joel asked him one time after peeling away in horror at the insect collection Cody had carefully pinned up in the garage where they gamed.
“Because I’m not you,” Cody replied. “Bugs are cool. They’ve adapted and survived things that killed the dinosaurs. They will probably outlive the human race.”
“Let’s hope not,” Reggie interjected. “Actually, there’s an idea for a business I want to run by you two, and it’s specifically related to us surviving any bug infestation that threatens the human race.”
That was the day they started their business: Intergalactic Pest Control. Cody was thrilled by the idea. Joel was excited that they would stick together as a team. An
d Reggie, well, he needed to do something that made the world a better place.
The ShimVen who had taken over Sector 12 Transgalactic Station, the site of their first job, had been migrating through space from infected stations to other stations and planets in the same system. Scientists thought they tapped into dark energy somehow to move through space, but no one knew for sure. Dark, mysterious bugs—who were hungry for blood.
The station looked like any other of its kind. Maintained enough to remain functional, but never any efforts made to improve the aging infrastructure. It survived in a constant state of life support, which, for someone like Joel, actually made the place more exciting. He could see its guts hanging out from the walls and ceiling, and he loved nothing more than taking tech apart and putting it back together.
“This strategy isn’t working,” Reggie said. “We need to draw them out.”
Joel’s gut clenched again. “Don’t say it.”
“We should set a trap,” Cody added.
“Nope,” Joel said.
“We just need some bait,” Reggie said.
Joel sighed. “And you said it. Horror movie 101: never set a trap, and never use live, human bait. Because that person is most definitely getting brain eggs.”
“It’ll be fine,” Reggie said. “You worry too much. Let’s meet on Joel’s level since he’s the only one who’s witnessed any activity.”
Cody agreed, and Joel swore furiously. Ten minutes later, they were setting their trap.
“We are so good at this job,” Reggie said, a smile stretching from ear to ear. His blue eyes were round and shining. They looked like stars in the dark. His features were chiseled and defined, the jawline of a superhero, framed by straight, golden hair. The guy was like a fucking male model. What he lacked in common sense, he made up for in optimism. “We won’t even need the whole seventeen hours to clear this station once we draw these buggers out.”
“Seventeen hours?” Joel asked with disbelief. “Is that what you bid for this contract? This place is massive. What made you think we could do this in seventeen hours?”
“A healthy confidence in our abilities as intergalactic pest control operators,” Reggie said with no hint of sarcasm to his voice whatsoever.
“This is our first job,” Cody argued.
“Regardless,” Reggie said. “I know we can do this. We used to do stuff like this in Return to Order all the time.”
“That’s a video game,” Cody stated. “We’re fucking toast.”
“Language,” Reggie said, wincing. “Trust me, it’ll work out.
Cody didn’t seem to trust him at all. His pale face dripped with sweat, and his lanky limbs twitched like snakes on meth. His brown eyes were darting from side to side, apparently tracking some unseen threat. They shot downward as Reggie tossed a stack of freeze-dried rations at his feet.
“Explain how this is supposed to work again?” he all but whimpered.
Reggie held up another pack of rations and dragged his knife lengthwise through its plastic wrapper. “The intel report I have on the ShimVens is thin, but it does say they’re carnivorous.”
“Because of course, they are,” Joel added.
Reggie dropped another packet of rations at Cody’s feet. “So, we pile these rations up here, get their scent in the air, and wait for the ShimVens to come. Then we blast them with our chem guns. Simple.”
“And why are you having me stand at the center of the pile?” Cody asked.
“Because the intel report also said that the ShimVens only eat live prey,” Reggie added.
“Because of course, they do,” Joel said.
Reggie ignored him. “The rations will emit a concentrated scent into the air, but we need live bait to draw the targets into the kill zone.”
The Notches, the team name the guys had adopted in their gaming days, had taken up a position in an alcove in the engineering section of the floor. It was an area used for maintenance and monitoring of air flows in the lower levels. Being such a crucial aspect of a crucial system, it was set apart from the others, only accessible through a singular hallway—one way in, one way out. The area was circular and measured roughly twenty yards, wall to wall. More than enough space to trap and eliminate the ShimVen infestation.
Cody’s quivering legs shook the pile of rations, sending the mountain of bait tumbling down. “Yeah, but why am I standing on the bait pile?”
Joel patted Cody on the back. “Because you’re the bravest of us all.”
“Fuck you.”
“Language,” Reggie scolded. “All right, that should do it. Check your weapons.”
They each drew their chem guns and performed a field check. The weapons were impressive pieces of tech; the Notches may have been inexperienced in the pest control business, but they weren’t noobs when it came to kickass gear. Joel couldn’t help but smile. He’d taken it upon himself to modify the standard pest control gear for the team. Each gun had a main tank and a reserve, which held enough chem for an entire day’s worth of bug killing. He’d amped up the standard range of ten yards to twenty and improved their accuracy.
They all acknowledged that their weapons were hot and they were ready for action. Well, maybe not Cody, as far as readiness went.
“This is the worst idea anyone has ever had,” he muttered.
“You’re going to do great,” Reggie said as he took up a position on the left side of the entrance.
“So great,” Joel added as he set up a fan behind Cody to push his meaty smell down the hall. He was careful to position it so that it didn’t affect the chem gun streams, causing them to be less accurate and spread out the stream. Then he stationed himself opposite of Reggie at the entrance of the alcove.
They waited forever. Each second that passed seemed like an hour. Their muscles were so tight with readiness and adrenaline that they quickly grew sore and fatigued. Sweat dripped down their brows. Their hearts punched at the insides of their chests. They gripped their guns tighter and waited.
“Well, this clearly isn’t working,” Cody said. “Let’s pack it up.”
Reggie put his finger to his mouth to signal to the other Notches to shut up. He pointed to his ear and then down the hall.
As much as Cody wished he hadn’t, he too had heard the building thunder from hundreds of skittering feet, headed straight for them.
Chapter Three
Sector 12 Transgalactic Station
The cacophony of noise was like standing inside of a kettle drum. The skittering grew to rapid-fire canon bursts that echoed inside the alcove. The Notches struggled to stay focused on the approaching threat and not the mind-punching pain in their skulls.
The twisted expression on Cody’s face suddenly became stone when the first bug emerged from the dark at the end of the tunnel. It wasn’t the size of an average bug, more like that of a small dog.
Joel and Reggie forgot their pain and steadied their chem guns. Cody yelled something that they couldn’t hear, but, judging by his face and history in similar situations (at least in virtual reality video game situations), it was probably something like, ‘holy fucking shit!’
Reggie yelled to Cody, but his voice was lost in the echo. He tried to tell him to wait for the ShimVens to enter the alcove so they could cut off the bugs’ retreat and mow them all down, but Cody raised his gun and let loose a stream of glowing green liquid.
The chemical was strictly only available on the black market, a fact that Cody had decided to withhold from Reggie, who would have undoubtedly found the source disgusting. Even if he’d heard the amazingly awesome name—Killmaximus Plus—Reggie probably would have insisted that the chemical be returned and replaced by something from a more reputable vendor. The stink of it alone should have been enough to kill.
The second the pests entered the alcove, Reggie and Joel unleashed their own attack. Some of the bugs were small, the size of a mouse, and others, the size of a large cat. The ShimVens screeched as they were bathed in Killmaximus, but the
y kept coming. The combined smell of three streams of Killmaximus made the Notches’ all lightheaded. Joel fell against the wall; the fear of brain worms the only thing keeping him from passing out.
The ShimVens were nightmarish. They had long, segmented bodies that wiggled as they crawled. Six legs, three on each side of their body, and they had a set of pincers that could snap bone on their disgusting heads. These were the kind of things that crawled through every child’s worst dreams, waking the child screaming, swatting at their arms, trying to shoo the creatures away, only to sink back with relief when they realized the bugs weren’t real.
But ShimVens were real. And one of them was trying to stick his egg sac in Cody’s ear.
“Don’t move!” Joel yelled, though he wasn’t sure Cody could hear him.
He took aim and sniped the nasty fucker off the side of Cody’s head. A drop of Killmaximus landed on Cody’s cheek, and he screamed and brushed it away as he stumbled backward, off the bait pile.
The bugs fell in heaps as they entered the alcove. The first wave slid across the floor on a slip-and-slide of Killmaximus. The successive waves slithered atop the bodies of their friends. The growing pile of bodies forced Joel and Reggie out of their positions by the entrance. They moved toward the center of the room, never faltering in their aim.
Their hearts sank once they reached Cody’s side and got a full view of the hallway and the wall of ShimVens still coming at them. There was no end in sight. No daylight between bugs. A solid mass of death barreled toward them. At this rate, they’d drown in bug corpses before they killed the swarm.
As if that wasn’t disheartening enough, something began tugging at Joel’s leg. He looked down to see one of the bugs, covered in thick, green Killmaximus, trying to take his leg off with its pincers. Joel stomped its head until it shattered into goo, and then noticed movement across the alcove floor. Not just pockets of movement—the entire floor.
“These things aren’t dead!”
