Huston looked with satisfaction as the ratings of his and Austin’s latest mockery of Viscount Moreded continued to outpace Moreded’s latest attempt at his pater’s character assassination. Huston chuckled just a bit- who would have guessed that his younger brother’s useless artistic bent would be so applicable?

The attention-signal at the edge of his hab’s border interrupted his thoughts; when he looked at the screen, his stomach turned to ice.

One of the hidden cameras was beaming back a picture of a dark-colored transport quietly landing just outside, and several men clad in light, black body armor exiting the back of the vehicle. Gertie was already detailing in her calm AI voice the number of men [five], the kinds of weapons they were sporting [ballistics, ten bullets per second, good for shredding opponents at close quarters and making an unmistakable political point], and the projected amount of time until they made breech [thirty-five seconds, with a margin of error of plus-or-minus 10 seconds, nine, eight…shall I engage defensive protocols, Huston?]

“What?” he said, drawing his attention from the screen.

“Shall I engage defensive protocols, Huston?”

“Oh, yes, absolutely. Alamo level protocols, now.”

“Very good, Huston. Shall I inform your wife and children of the situation?”

“Where are they?”

“On the other side of the city, visiting her parents for the weekend.”

“Yes. My in-laws could use a little excitement in the ir lives. Inform my brother, father, the gendarmes and our most faithful housecleaning service as well, won’t you?”

“Yes sir.”

“Tell them there’s going to be an especially nasty mess to clean up after the gendarmes get done with the crime scene. Oh, and Gertie?”

“Yes sir- by the way, breech,” Gertie said as the front door was bashed open.

“Blast,” Huston said, “the insurance company’s going to give me a lot of grief over that door. Gertie, after this intrusion team’s been disposed of…” he was interrupted by several gentle humming noises originating from above, followed by several adult male screams, followed again by the sounds of bodies falling, followed by the metallic sounds of weapons clattering on his floor. “Nabbit, now I’m going to have to call the flooring company, too, to fix the chips in the tile. Gertie, when the last of them are dead, make a thank-you call to Lord Moreded for the extra publicity he’s given to the Morgan family.”

“Yes, sir. Calling all parties you’ve requested, including the flooring company.”

“Good job, Gertie.”

“Thank you, sir.”

#

“You got the vids?”

The security officer didn’t even look at his younger partner as he spoke the words, his eyes fully on the only remaining member of the conflict still in the bar.

“Downloaded it right here,” he answered, waving his wrist-recorder while trying for the umpteenth time that day to look efficient, professional and capable, and visibly failing at all three.

“Good. Take five and preview it for me while I talk to the victim, here.”

“Sure thing, Lieutenant,” he said, sitting and watching the security cams rendition of the fight that had lasted less than a minute, but produced nearly a half-dozen bodies and the new customer for the artificial limb industry sitting in front of them.

“Can you tell me what happened?” the lieutenant said, speaking into his own wrist-gadget, which had been set to translate to the most frequently used Corporate dialect. A second or two later, the Lieutenant’s wrist spoke in its tinny voice. The Corporate soldier stared off into space, not appearing to have heard.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

“Can, you, tell, me, what happened?” the Lieutenant said again, enunciating and trying not to fall into the habit of saying the words louder to someone who could not understand the language.

“Lieutenant, I - don’t you think he’s in shock or something?”

“Why would he be in shock, rookie?”

“Well- his arm’s off, for starters.”

The medbot pulled up outside the smashed-up bar. The soldier, staring at his severed right arm, finally looked up at the Lieutenant and spoke.

There was a lot of noise as the medbot rolled through the door of the bar, speaking pre-recorded words designed to comfort the afflicted as it pushed the Lieutenant aside to begin working on the soldier.

The ‘bot’s words and rudeness kept the Lieutenant from hearing the translated response. As the bot began disposing of the dead arm with one set of mechanical limbs and began measuring the soldier’s stump for a new, artificial arm, the Lieutenant stepped away and held his wrist to his ear. “Play, again.” he said, enunciating for the sake of the terminally stupid AI who always seemed to mishear what what said to it.

“Certainly, Lieutenant,” it said, “Your victim said, and I quote, ‘A dead man and his dead crew were here. They killed my men, they took my arm. Their sand flows more quickly with each hour. They will all die by my remaining hand.”

Geeze, the Lieutenant thought, Corporates. Always gotta use their crazy metaphors, and talk like they’re in the middle of a mystical history book. He looked again at the soldier as the medbot inserted the preliminary nerve plugs into the stump of the severed arm in prep for the mechanical limb’s fitting. The soldier’s eyes stared forward with no expression that the Lieutenant could see. Still, the Lieutenant thought, minus an arm or emotion set or not, I’m glad that he’s not coming after me for anything.

#

Dallas, Gareth, and the four new members of their crew approached the gangplank of the Palefroi.The ship suddenly looked dark and foreboding in the docking bay, which was itself surprisingly quiet for this time of day.

“Are you worried, Gareth?” Dallas said.

“No. But this is a little odd. I’ expect at least the lights in the bridge to be on. But the ship’s totally quiet.”

“Maybe they’re not back from shore leave yet? The locals’re know to be a bit- um friendly?” Joker said, using a few hand gestures that Dallas was unfamiliar with.

“I hope they will come back,” House said in a gruff voice. “This boat’s gonna a tough row to hoe with a crew of six.”

“Let’s git on board and see,”” Anja said. “Yue, can that fancy eye off yours see anyt’ink?”

“No, Anja,” Yue replied, “this ship, though quite outdated in many respects, has up-to-date shielding in place which prevents most levels of scanning from penetrating its hull.”

“The old captain was a cheap bastard, apparently,” Gareth grumbled as he approached the door to the ship, “but it makes sense that when he did have funds he’d invest in scan-proof plating. We’ll head in, and see what we can-”

As he reached for the touch panel, the door opened on its own.

Gareth paused. “Well,” he said slowly, “it looks like someone’s on board. Yue? Can you see anything now?”

“There are no human life signs in the hallway before us. The scan-proof plating has been extended to many of the interior corridors.”

“My predecessor was maybe worried about internal issues as well,” Dallas said, his voice still thick shock from the day’s events. “Let’s go.”

Gareth insisted on stepping in first. When no one jumped him, Dallas followed, and the n the other four.

THey crept through the darkened corridors, the only visible lights being provided by what seeped in through the occasional porthole to the outside, scanners in the wall, and a small beam originating of Yue’s artificial eye.

In a couple of minutes they arrived at the door to the bridge. “Alright, stand back,” Gareth said. “If there’s any kind of a town meeting going on, it’s going to be here.” They all stood back from the doorway, flattening themselves as best they could alongside the corridor wall.

Weapons were drawn. Gareth counted down on the fingers of his mechanical right hand, his fleshly left hand hovering over the touch panel in the bridge’s door frame. Three, two, one…

Gareth tapped the panel.

Light flooded into the corridor.

The sound of laughter, music and clinking glasses filled the silent space. “Hey, the cap’ns here!” someone shouted from inside!

“Surprise!” yelled several voices at once!

Dallas looked at Gareth. “Do you know what’s going on?” he asked.

“Looks like a surprise party,” Gareth said, “in your honor, no less.”

“I think I’m gonna like this job, House said in a serious voice.

#

TO BE CONTINUED...