It’s the day before the last regular season game and nobody on the team can find Dexter Cribbens. We’re in the middle of a team meeting when Jint storms in. Everyone’s happy to see her, because then Jager won’t be threatening them over sneaking off to raid nearby shipping lanes between games.
Jint looks upset. “I can’t find my son. Where is he?”
“How should I know?” I ask. “I told you I wasn’t going to be his minder.” I realize that I’d said Bucky would be his minder, but he’d been gone for weeks. I look around at the team. “Anybody seen Cribbens?”
I get a lot of shrugs.
“You suck at this,” Jint says. She points at Fuckhead #1. “You. When did you last see my son?”
“At yesterday’s practice,” he says. “And I didn’t talk to him, neither.”
“Good for you.” Jint looks around. “Who’s seen him sooner than that?”
A hand goes up. “Saw him comin’ outta the head yesterday afternoon. C-deck, I think.”
“We were with him last night,” says another, “at the - ouch! What’s with the fuckin’ elbow, Hawgs?“
“Shut the fuck up.”
I see the two of them right away, in the back. It’s Bobby Grimes and Paul Hawgs, both offensive linemen. Kissy’s boys. I can tell by their looks that they’re trying to be subtle, but they might as well have been dressed in pink tutus and twirling rainbow batons. “The two of you got something?” I ask. “Spill it.”
They spot something real interesting on the floor.
Kissy stands up, turns around, and grabs both men by an ear. She frog marches them through the front two rows and presents them to Jint. “Talk,” she said.
Grimes is talking before Kissy finishes her order. “We just wanted to take him out, show him a good time.”
Jint’s eyebrows bang into her forehead, and then crash back down into a dark frown. “Where?”
“Just Kornerstone, nothin’ major.”
Jint’s expression says that it certainly IS major. “You arrive with him?”
“Yeah.”
“You leave with him?”
Grimes scratches his head. “Dunno. Things are fuzzy for me after the fourth round. How ‘bout you, Hawgs?”
Hawgs doesn’t say anything. Kissy twists his ear and he hits the floor. “OW! JESUS MARY FUCKING—”
“Talk,” Kissy says, “or you’ll lose it. Then I’ll twist something else that you don’t have two of.”
“FUCK FUCKING FUCK FUCK FUCK!”
“Just talk, Hawgs,” Grimes says. “You’re gonna look really funny without that ear.”
Hawgs opens his mouth as if to say something and screams instead. Kissy’s hand comes off his head with a bloody hunk of flesh. “Too slow,” she says. “Quit yelling, Hawgs. You can get an ear regrown for 100 credits. I’m going to rip off your cock next, and those are a bit harder to do. You might end up with something the size of my pinky finger.”
“Fuck! Stop! I’ll talk!” Hawgs presses his hand to the left side of his head to stem the bleeding. “Can I get a nanogel pack first?”
“After,” Kissy says. “Where’s Dexter?”
“I don’t know where he is. But I saw him leave the club last night with a Scorpion Girl.”
I see a hand reach in and grab Hawgs’ neck. It’s Jager. He pulls Hawgs to him and growls into his face, “You let a Scorpion Girl take my son?”
A lot of people start talking at once, but my attention is riveted on Hawgs’ face. This guy gets his ear ripped off and treats it as if he scraped his knee. But Jager is in his face and I’m pretty sure he shit his pants. I take a whiff. Yep, Hawgs shit his pants.
“He’s not on the ship,” Kissy reports. Everyone looks at her. She’s not looking at anybody, she’s listening to somebody else. “He’s not on Freehaven.”
“Bah, I know where he is,” Jager says. He lets go of Hawgs’ neck. “We will speak of this later. You might be able to make it up to me.”
Hawgs stumbles away, presumably in search of a nanogel pack and a new pair of pants.
“He isn’t anywhere on the IIDS network,” Kissy says.
“Because the Scorpion Lady has him,” Jager says.
I’ve heard of her. The clanmaster of the Scorpion clan. She’s extra special crazy, with nanotattoos in the shape of scorpions. Nanotattoos can change shape in three dimensions, so if you want that snake armband to come alive and strangle someone while you’re wrestling them to the ground, nanotattoos will do it. I’ve never been into the tattoo bit. They’re not as permanent as they used to be – removal takes only as long as dipping the inked body part into a nanogel vat – so it seems like a lot of pain on purpose.
The Scorpion Lady has a lot of these scorpion nanotattoos. One on each hand, each foot, on her arms, her shoulders, just about anywhere she might come in contact with another person. Even her tongue. Ouch. The rumor also says she’s got two positioned on her inner thighs, and another just above the magic happy place. All of them ready to strike whomever – or whatever – happens to be nearby, and all of them armed with an implanted vial of poison. Anybody who tries to have sex with the Scorpion Lady has to be really, really confidant.
When the Scorpion Lady was an up and comer, she used to seduce rival clanmasters and then strike and poison them during sex. After she’d absorbed or destroyed a few enemy clans this way, the other clanmasters wised up and stopped trying to get into her pants, even when said pants and contents therein were freely offered. I’m seen vids. The Scorpion Lady is hot, but some things just aren’t worth it.
Jint has heard of her, too, because she draws one of her many knives and does this fancy underhand throw at Hawgs. It whips across the room and everyone holds a collective breath for a split second because we all know she’s a good shot and if she kills him there will be trouble. Yeah, Hawgs made a bad mistake and he’s in the doghouse with Jager, but he’s still a clansman and Jint’s not. If Hawgs dies at her hand and it’s not accidental, every player on my team will be honor bound to slay her on the spot. Even if she is a teammate’s mom. All of that flashes through my head, and on its heels is Jager knows Cribbens is his!
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
The knife hums with this weird wom-wom-wom noise which tells everyone within earshot that it’s a monofilament blade. It passes through Hawgs’ right shoulder and buries itself in the wall. Pinning him to it.
So here’s this guy. He got his ear ripped off. Scared by another man into shitting his pants. And now he’s stuck on a wall like a wiggly, shit-smelling poster. All for watching a teenager walk out of a bar with a woman! I mean, c’mon! This is a little much. I’m just sayin’. To myself.
Jint stalks up to Hawgs and grabs the knife handle. The big burly man makes this low keening sound as Jint whispers in his ear.
My hearing is implant amplified so I hear everything she says.
“Keep up that sound you’re making right now,” Jint tells him. “That’s good. Maybe a little louder now, like I’m telling you something really scary.”
Hawgs whines himself into a higher pitch.
“I didn’t plan on this part, it’s just flowing. But it’ll leave a great impression. By the way, I’m going to triple your pay for this last bit.”
The whine takes on a questioning note. Jint grabs the knife handle and rips it out of the wall. Hawgs screams.
I glance around to see if I’m the only one who heard that. Everyone is rapt, including Laura and Kissy. So I’m the only one. Fan-fucking-tastic.
Jint turns around and walks up to Jager and sticks the bloody knife under his chin. The blade is cooking Hawgs’ blood and it hisses and spits. “This is because of you!” she shouts. “Because of you and her! And now she has my son!”
Jager slowly puts his hand over her wrist and pushes the knife down. The blade is still active and it cuts through his tooth necklace. The gruesome pearls clatter to the floor. “She has MY son,” he says. “And she will not keep him the day.” He looks around. “Who will follow me to the Scorpions’ lair and take back what is mine?”
Everyone roars. Jager raises his fist and leads the way out of the room.
I grab Laura’s hand as the crowd forms around us and we start to move. This must be what fish in those big schools feel like. Swim! Swim now! We’re all swimming and you have to swim, too! This doesn’t work if you don’t swim! C’mon, swim! I squeeze Laura’s hand and she squeezes back. I wish I could tell her that this isn’t real, that Jint’s got some pretty big puppet strings going on right now, but there’s no way I’m going to blurt something out. I know how many knives she’s got. Quiet means I don’t get impaled.
The pirate school swims its way directly to the team bus airlock. Maurice makes the mistake of being out in the hallway and gets scooped up. I hear some prim objections followed by coarse yelling and he shuts up and goes along for the ride. I wonder if this is how pirate raids go. Somebody gets mad, makes a rousing cry, and it happens. Immediately. No planning. No strategy. Just up and go. I then wonder how pirate raids are deemed a success. Most ships shot down? Most people maimed or killed? Or just showing up and surprising the other guy and stealing some of his stuff? Maybe that’s it.
We all pile into the team bus. Well, almost all of us. Still holding onto me, Laura grabs Jager’s hand and pulls us back from the mob. It flows around us and into the ship, no longer needing its leader, already knowing what it needs to do. Swim! Attack! Kill!
“What is this?” Jager demands.
“I have an idea,” Laura says. “I can get us a ship.”
“We have a ship.”
“A better ship. A military-class vessel. I have contacts.”
Jager’s suspicious. “What sort of contacts?”
“What if I told you that I know someone in Omm Industries?”
At the other end of the airlock, Fuckhead #2 leans out of the bus and yells, “Uncle! Are we goin’ or what?” Jager head swivels ever so slightly. Fuckhead #2’s face blanches and he ducks back inside.
“Omm Industries?” Jager asks. “This is nothing. I know someone in Omm Industries. Everyone can say this.”
“Oh, yeah? Does your sector rep’s last name actually end in Omm?”
Jager’s eyebrows shoot up. “You speak the truth? Yes! Yes, go! Wait, how long?”
“I’ll meet you in six hours.” She blinks a couple of times. “I just uploaded the coordinates into the bus computer. I need you to do something, though, while we’re gone.”
“What? Wait, who is we?”
She grips my hand even tighter. I get the feeling that she’ll kill people to keep me off the bus. Which I won’t lie, makes me feel happy and sick to my stomach at the same time. Happy because I’ll be safer with my wife. Sick because my entire team is in one place at the same time, sailing into a battle where the other side almost certainly knows they’re coming. “I need him,” Laura says. “He’s going to help me make the deal with Holden.”
I’ve never met Holden Omm and have no idea what he even looks like. “He’s a big spaceball fan,” I say with a shrug. “I’m pretty sure that front-row tickets to the Cup game are going to be part of this arrangement.” I think I’m telling the truth, given what Laura has told me about the importance of making the Cup game. I’m guessing Holden, and if not Holden, then his boss, are going to a big part of the game. So, yeah, front-row seats.
Jager squints at me. I nearly pull a Hawgs and clench my butt cheeks together. Then he squints at Laura. “Fine. But you are not standing with your clan.”
“Bullshit,” Laura says. “We’re standing with them; we’re just going to get some bigger guns. You’re telling me that you were just going to run right into the Scorpion Lady’s territory on the team bus?”
“It is done this way. If a clan cannot protect its children, then that clan will not survive.”
“Jesus. Jint! Kissy!” When they come into view, Laura asks, “Jint, do you have an IIDS node?”
“Yes,” Jint says. “Why?”
“Great. Kissy, once the bus reaches the coordinates in the nav link, take the node and go on ahead to scout for Dexter. Hang tight once you find him and provide onsite intel so we’re not flying in blind.”
“I can do that,” Kissy nods.
“Are you serious?” Jint asks. “The sex robot? No offense, Kissy.”
“None taken,” Kissy replies. “You wouldn’t know. My armor has some neat tricks beyond looking sexy on the field.”
“But you’re not wearing your armor.”
Kissy’s clothes ripple and disappear as her body changes jet black, her eyes turn red, and she gets a meter taller. The vents in her back turn the airlock sooty orange. White flame tattoos flicker up over her limbs. I’ve only ever seen her on the field like this, and she’s even sexier up close. The entire process takes less than two seconds.
“I’m always wearing my armor,” she says, her voice amplified and distorted as if speaking with the voices a thousand dark angels. “Don’t worry, I’ll get in close enough to scan for your boy without being seen.” Then she powers down battle mode and returns to normal. She catches me ogling before her clothes flick back into place and smirks at me.
I tear my eyes away just in time to catch Jint trying to look hopeful. A bit of consternation right before, some oh crap now what do I do action. Before, I wasn’t sure what game she’s playing. I’m sure now. She’s trying to get my whole team killed.
I open my mouth to call her on it and Laura digs her fingernails into my palm. Then she says, “Remember, Erik. Six hours, and we’ll be at the rendezvous. Don’t go wandering off until we get there.”
“Fine. But one moment later—”
“Yeah, yeah, you’ll be saving the day.”
Jager glares at her, and then ushers Kissy and Jint through the airlock and closes it behind them. Some red lights turn on and there’s a flash of white light through the little porthole at the far end, and I know the team bus has disembarked.
“You mind telling me why we just let Jint get on that ship?” I ask. “You know she orchestrated the whole thing, right?”
“I’m got that feeling, yeah,” Laura says.
“And she’s trying to get the team killed, right?”
“Then why did she get on the team bus with them?”
“Laura, I heard her talking to Hawgs at the wall. It was an act. Well, not the knife part, but she put him up to it.”
“I thought his eyes didn’t look right. Not scared enough. What did she say to him, exactly?”
I told her.
“Cribbens didn’t get kidnapped,” Laura says. “I’d bet my left boob on it.”
“Why the left one? I think it’s of equal value, if not greater, than the right one.”
“You have the attention span of a nano-gnat. Wait, what do you mean, greater value than my right?”
“Simple. Your left boob is where my right hand goes. I get more tactile sensations out of my right hand than my left because it’s still real, and I can deliver finer motor touches with it than my cybernetic one. Unless I’m doing a reach around, that is … But yeah, statistically speaking, your left boob gets more traffic and therefore is of greater value.”
“How long have you been working on that?”
“Just now. I never thought about it until you offered up one of your boobs to the Bet God in the Sky. Which I’d prefer you didn’t do, by the way. I like your boobs right where they are. Maybe a bit closer, though.” I make a groping gesture with both my hands and she slaps them away. “So, if Cribbens didn’t get kidnapped, are we still going on a rescue mission?”
“We still are,” Laura says. “But we’re going to get a better ship before Erik and his rag-tag band of merry mischief makers ever leave the rendezvous point. The team bus isn’t exactly battle-worthy.”
“True. So what’s the plan?”
“Our ride is already on its way, so wait here. I have to get some things from the armory.”
“The armory is five decks down,” I say. “How long are you going to be?”
“About an hour,” Laura says.
“I’m not standing here for an entire hour.”
“Do whatever you want. Be standing here when I get back, or its no boobs for you forever.”