Rocketship Patrol (11 page)

Holding an ice pack on his bruised forehead, Hackenthrush stepped up to the main CRT on
Patrol Rocketship
8724’s bridge. He watched as a glint of reflected light smacked against the hull of the
Exalted Refuse
just as it vanished into superluminal space.

“Was that that crazy robot?” Rikki asked, favoring his ankle as he climbed up onto the bridge.

“Yes,” 8724 said. “I must say, I am impressed he made it. I didn’t exactly aim him in the right direction.”

“You don’t see that kinda thing every day,” Hackenthrush said, plopping down into his commander’s chair. “Rookie’s gonna kick herself for missing it.”

“She didn’t exactly miss it,” 8724 said. “She was part of it.”

“What?” Hackenthrush asked, moving the ice pack from his forehead to his chin.

“She was aboard that ship,” 8724 said. “She boarded while you two were massively failing to apprehend the robot.”

“Bummer,” Rikki said as he opened the First Aid locker and began rooting around. “Well, that’s another rookie dealt with. You think they’ll send us a blonde next time? Don’t know why, but I could really be into a blonde about now. –Damn it, we’re out of tequila. This day just keeps getting worse.”

Hackenthrush’s shoulders sagged and he sighed at the CRT. “8724, do we know where they’re going?”

“I’ve got an idea, yes,” 8724 said.

Rikki’s ears flattened against his head. “That’s an awful provocative question to be asking. You wouldn’t be thinking about doing something stupid like acting like a real cop all of a sudden, would you?”

“I am a real cop,” Hackenthrush said, a hint of injured pride is his voice. “Sure, I’m a particularly lazy, shiftless cop. But I’m not disloyal. Rookie what’s her name–”

“Loy,” 8724 and Rikki said simultaneously.

Hackenthrush nodded. “Yeah, what’s her name, she’s my partner. Hit on her, fire high-powered energy weapons at her, lace her bottled water with knock-out drops, that’s all kosher–
esprit d’corps!
–but let her get taken hostage her first day on the job... that’s just not something that looks good on a service record.”

“Yank you right off this cushy assignment, won’t they?” Rikki asked, spotting the pile of spent tequila pouches around the base of Hackenthrush’s chair. He picked the nearest up and uncrumpled it, licking a finger and shoving it in to coat his fur with the powdered booze residue that remained on the sides of the pouch.

“If I’m lucky,” Hackenthrush said. “More like they’ll stick me on the lonely side of a firing squad.”

Rikki licked his tequila powder-covered finger. “Well, you’d better hope your will’s in order. We don’t have rockets. How we gonna go after anybody?”

“We don’t need rockets for superluminal flight,” Hackenthrush reminded him.

Rikki gulped. “Don’t suppose you would mind me staying behind, would you? –They didn’t take that life boat with them, did they?”

“No,” 8724 said. “I had to set it loose but it’s still floating nearby. I could grapple it.”

“There’s no time, Rikki,” Hackenthrush said. “Anyway, no way you’re getting out of paying your rent that easy.”

Rikki huffed and crumpled the tequila pouch. He let it drop to the deck as he bent to pick up another. “So, 8724, where we going?”

“The Otulak system.”

“Ha,” Hackenthrush said, “for a moment there I thought you said Otulak system.”

“Engaging superluminal engine.”

Hackenthrush tugged at his collar. “On second thought, a firing squad isn’t the worst way to die…”

NINE

Junior Officer Loy awoke with a throbbing head and the smell of musky sweat filling her nostrils. She opened her eyes to find herself sprawled out on a nest wide enough for five of her. It was made of strips of cloth and shredded steel kept together by gobs of semi-rigid mucous. Some kind of communal bed, she guessed by the size and smell of it. Either that or a bathroom.
Please don’t let it be a bathroom
.

She rolled onto her back and sat up, her hand going for her service raygun. Her holster was empty.

“Yeah, we pretty much disarmed you first thing,” Cortez said. She stood nearby, arms crossed over her chest, Loy’s service raygun tucked into her jumpsuit belt.

Loy rubbed the back of her neck where she’d been clocked. “Suppose it’s pointless to tell you you’re under arrest?”

Cortez gave her a bemused smile. “Hasn’t been terribly effective so far, has it?”

“No, I guess not. I really don’t know why I keep saying it.”

“Because you’re a good cop, that’s why.”

Loy snorted. “If I’m such a good cop… never mind. What are you going to do with me?”

Cortez shrugged. “Fill you in, I suppose.”

Loy’s eyebrows went up. “Fill me in?”

“Well, you’re gonna have to know what’s going on if you’re gonna be any help to me whatsoever.”

“Right, sure. –Why would I help you?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Cortez asked. “We’re both cops.”

Black stars flicking above him in the endless pure white of superluminal space, Igon slowly crawled over the
Exalted Refuse Inc.
’s hull towards the dome of a cooling system exhaust vent.

Reaching it, he ducked as the slats along its sides snapped open. Jets of superheated steam spewed from the dome. He waited until the steam jets petered out, then lifted himself and threw himself through a slat before it closed again.

Low blinked. “You’re a what?”

Cortez stepped closer and sat down cross-legged in front of the nest on the bare deck floor. “Not one of you run-of-the-mill system traffic cops, mind you. A real cop. Galactic Authority Police.”

“Sure,” Loy said with a wry grin. “And I’m a twelve foot tall six-armed Grontauran.”

“I’m serious.” Cortez flexed her robomechanical fingers in a specific, jerky manner as she raised her hand, palm up, in front of Loy. A tiny holographic image of Cortez, smirking in a crisp Galactic Authority Police dress uniform, appeared in the air above her palm. The holographic Cortez spun underneath an official-looking animated GAP shield. A list of authenticated security clearances and commendations scrolled along the bottom of the holobadge while marshal music played out of a tiny speaker in Cortez’s fingertip. She twitched her wrist and the music abruptly stopped. “Sorry, the GAP’s a little full of itself sometimes.”

“So?” Loy squinted dubiously at the at the holobadge. “Nice forgery.”

“Not a forgery. Ask yourself how I took over a patrol rocketship full of security protocols and anti-hijacking systems.”

Loy’s eyes went wide with realization. “Of course. You flashed your badge.”

“I flashed my badge. And after 8724 authenticated it, she let me commandeer her.”

Loy shook her head and slapped her knees. “Son of a bitch. –So why the hell didn’t you just tell us you were a cop the second you boarded?”

Cortez  shrugged. “Seemed easier not to.”

Dropping from a cross girder stretching the length of the hold’s ceiling, Igon landed on all sixes atop a jumbled stack of hollowed-out star fighter hulls. He lay himself flat against the dented and battle-scorched nacelle of a Keltz Industries Cobra Mk II snub fighter and scanned his surroundings. Once he was certain he had not been seen nor was he being observed, he scrambled half-way down the stack to his former, temporary utility robot body, laying discarded and powered-down on half of an airfoil from a Tung Shipyards Dengadenk class strafe-bomber.

Igon slid next to the utility robot and rolled it on its side to tap a button on the base of the back of its neck.

With a thrum of power, the utility robot body’s three eyes blinked on.

“What the what?” Igon-2 asked, sitting up.

Igon slapped a claw over the other robot’s mouth slot. “Quiet, me,” he said in a whisper. “It’s time for revenge!”

“Frankly, I didn’t know if I could trust you,” Cortez said, standing. She offered Loy a hand and helped her to her feet. “Sting operation I’m working’s kind of important... my cover gets blown before I wrap it up, years of prep work are down the drain. Not to mention a whole bunch of really bad people won’t get to experience the pleasures of prison.”

“Couldn’t trust us?” Loy asked, stepping out of the nest. “You just assumed we were corrupt?”

Cortez grinned sheepishly. “No… not
corrupt
.”

“Ah. Incompetent.”

Cortez jogged her head for Loy to follow as she walked away from the nest and into the forest of junk piles. “Can you blame me?”

Loy followed. “No, not really. I’m not saying I believe you for a second – badge authentication can be spoofed – but why tell me now? Aren’t you afraid I’ll screw up your big sting?”

“Always that chance. But I admire your persistence. And under that horribly insufficient DUPES training of yours, there’s a good cop trying to get out.” Cortez took Loy’s service raygun out of her belt and handed it to her. “You might need this.”

Loy flipped the raygun over – its battery pack was intact and fully charged. She holstered the raygun and sized Cortez up. “Assuming for the moment you really are a cop, the criminal mastermind thing, that’s a cover?”