Rocketship Patrol (13 page)

“Great.” Rikki turned away from the CRT. “Brilliant idea coming here, Archie.”

“No argument from me.” Chewing on his thumbnail, Hackenthrush stared at the CRT from his commander’s chair. “8724, thrust us out of this… traffic jam... slowly.”

“Love to, but my rockets are offline, remember? I only have maneuvering retros, and those won’t move me more than a dozen kilometers an hour. However, no one seems to have noticed I’m a police ship yet.”

Hackenthrush hugged his knees tight up against his chest. “Despite the honking big ‘POLICE’ stamped on your side.”

“I’ve dimmed my running lights.”

Hackenthrush rocked back and forth in his chair. “Well, that’s something. Don’t suppose we can superluminal out before they do take notice?”

“Yeah, and come back with a fleet of police battleships,” Rikki suggested.

“Batteries need to charge,” 8724 said. “Check back in an hour.”

“Why don’t we just call for backup?” Rikki asked. “That’s something you cops do, right?”

“We’re operating outside of DUPES jurisdiction,” 8724 said. “For that matter, we’re outside of the Galactic Authority completely. It’s questionable whether anyone would send backup – even if the radio signal could reach them.”

“Radio’s not working now?” Rikki asked.

“Radio’s working fine. The Otulak system does not appear be part of the Galactic Authority superluminal communication relay network, unsurprisingly. We can transmit, but any call would take years to reach anyone.”

Hackenthrush shook his head. “We’re not calling, anyway. Remember, we’re here covertly. Got a career to protect.”

Rikki gestured at the traffic on the CRT. “Tell them that.”

“Maybe they won’t notice us,” Hackenthrush said with a less-than-optimistic smile.

Rikki huffed and leaned back against the Boarding Actions station console, his butt pushing switches and rotating dials. Triggering every external light 8724 had, including her emergency flashers.

Hackenthrush glared at Rikki. “Idiot…”

“What?” Rikki asked, his furry brow furrowing.

Hackenthrush sprung out of his chair and pushed Rikki off the console. He randomly whacked at switches and dials. “How do I turn those damn things off?”

“I don’t even know how I turned them on,” Rikki said.

Hackenthrush slapped a final button and 8724’s external lights blinked off. He looked up at the CRT. “You think they noticed?”

On the CRT, the swarm of ship traffic slowed to a stop around them.

Hackenthrush’s face sagged. “Okay, so they noticed.”

“They’re charging weapons, en masse,” 8724 said. “Quite a number of them are demanding to know what we’re doing here. Either that or giving us ten seconds to ‘Say your prayers, pigs.’”

Rikki hurriedly shirked out of his DUPES uniform jacket and began unbuttoning his shirt.

Hackenthrush stared at Rikki. “What are you doing?”

“I’m not a cop.” Rikki tossed his shirt aside and undid his belt. His pants dropped to his ankles. “If I make that obvious, they may let me live.”

“I hereby resign my commission,” Hackenthrush said, starting to unbutton his own uniform jacket.

“Not that that isn’t the best news I’ve heard in a long time, but is this some sort of stress reaction?” 8724 asked as Hackenthrush discarded his jacket and tore his shirt off. “Do I need to flood the cabin with sedatives?”

Hackenthrush stepped out of his pants and plopped down in the commander’s chair. “Open a line.”

“Good idea,” 8724 said. “Surrender. In your underwear. Show them you’re not only idiots, you’re harmless.”

“Just play along,” Hackenthrush said, adjusting his toupee. “Broadcast. All channels. Video.”

8724 sighed. “Broadcasting.”

“Howdy, fellow criminal ne’er-do-wells,” Hackenthrush said, smiling at the CRT. “Anyone interested in a slightly used, and I assure you, absolutely stolen patrol rocketship?”

Fifteen minutes later,
Patrol Rocketship 8724
was docked snugged up against the belly of a Rolm pirate ship, both ships hanging above the busy crossroads intersection where traffic had resumed its normal course.

“So, what do you think of the ship so far, Mr. P’lau,” Hackenthrush asked, gesturing for the Rolm pirate to follow him around the bend in the corridor.

“She’s a very old ship,” P’lau said as he undulated along the deck, making notes on a datascreen with a claw. His bulky, lizard-skinned body appeared even bulkier thanks to the thick fur coat he wore. “Rocketships don’t tend to retain their value.”

“Sure, but this one’s relatively low-mileage for a ship her age,” Hackenthrush noted.

“She’s had regular maintenance all along,” Rikki said, walking far enough behind the pirate to stay clear of the Rolm’s swishing spiked tail. “Barely any wear-and-tear, either.”

“I’m not a piece of meat,” 8724 said.

P’lau glanced up at the ceiling. “That attitude’s going to be a problem. People don’t like Ship’s Brains with attitude.”

“Don’t worry,” Hackenthrush said to the pirate, “you can turn the voice off.”

“That’s not all we can turn off,” 8724 said. “Like air–”

“Voice off,” Hackenthrush said, and 8724’s voice cut out. Hackenthrush smiled at the snout-nosed Rolm. “So, what you say? Make us an offer. Lowball us. We’re desperate.”

“Well... I suppose I could buy her for parts,” P’lau said. “But only if the price were–”

And that’s when Rikki brought the butt of the autorifle down on the back of the pirate’s neck. P’lau made a gurgling noise and slumped down to the corridor floor, unconscious and breathing heavily.

“What you do that for?” Hackenthrush asked. “He was just about to make an offer.”

“We’re not really trying to sell the ship,” Rikki reminded him, lowering the autorifle.

“Oh, right.”

“But does beg the question… what are we trying to do?” Rikki asked.

Hackenthrush shrugged. “Hadn’t thought that far ahead… 8724, you have any ideas?”

“Oh, I can speak now?”

Hackenthrush growled. “If you have something to contribute.”

“Just one item of note… He wasn’t alone.”

“Hold it there!” a bellowing voice behind them shouted.

Hackenthrush and Rikki slowly turned to see a pair of Rolm pirates undulating up the corridor towards them, fangs bared and their very large plasma beam rifles pointed at them.

Rikki’s hands and tail shot up into the air instantly. “I’m not a cop!” he announced.

Hackenthrush snarled at Rikki out of the side of his mouth and raised his own arms in surrender.

“You know, I had a sneaking suspicion you two were cops the moment I saw you,” the Rolm pirate P’lau said as he undulated into
8724
’s mess. “I should have trusted my instincts and stayed clear.”

Bound tight into a chair by sheets of memory rubber wrapped around him like a straightjacket, Hackenthrush grinned almost confidently at the Rolm. “You didn’t know. You didn’t have a clue.”

“You’re wearing boxers with little police badges on them,” P’lau noted.

Sheeted into his own chair next to Hackenthrush, Rikki smirked. “Now who’s the dummy for wearing their underwear inside out?”

P’lau let out a guttural, phlegm-thick sigh. “What am I going to do with you two?”

“Is there any way out of this that won’t involve my death or disfigurement?” Hackenthrush asked with a hopeful smile. 

“Not that I can see.”

Hackenthrush’s shoulders sagged. “Just checking.”

“How about me?” Rikki asked. “I’m only along for the ride.”

“I should kill you both.”

“Well that’s hardly fair,” Hackenthrush said. He jogged his head at Rikki. “He’s the one who hit you.”

P’lau gave the slightest bob of his head. One of the pair of Rolms standing behind them stepped forward to whack Hackenthrush on the top of his head with the barrel of his autorifle.

The toupee did nothing to soften the blow. Hackenthrush let out a yelp. “Hey, watch it! You’re striking an officer of the law, there, buddy.”

“Which is why I won’t be killing you,” P’lau said. “Much as I want to, I have a better idea. A more profitable idea.”

“Look,” Hackenthrush said, struggling against the sheets of memory rubber. The more he did, the tighter they got. “If you’re thinking of pimping us out, you should know I picked up this little bug in junior high. Nothing major, it just makes a high pitched whistle now. It’s a little loud, but you get used to it–”

P’lau gave  another little head bob, and again the Rolm behind Hackenthrush brought his autorifle barrel down on his head with a sharp
crack.

Hackenthrush whipped his head around to glare at the Rolm. “Seriously, please stop doing that.”

P’lau let out a grumbling snort of laughter. “Pimp you? No – I’m selling you.”

Rikki’s ears pricked up. “Selling us?”

P’lau nodded his big head. Hackenthrush reflexively ducked, but no blow came. “You and this ship,” P’lau said.

“Hate to point this out,” Hackenthrush said, “but slavery is technically illegal...”

“You think I care about your laws?” P’lau asked. “But no, not as slaves. The warlord Klakraw just so happens to be in this system at the moment, and he has a standing order for cops.”

Hackenthrush smiled weakly. “To hold for ransom, he asks optimistically?”

“He doesn’t like cops any more than I do, but what he does like is to entertain himself. With knives and hot pokers and the tortured screams of cops. He’ll pay big for you two. I’ll throw the ship in for free. I’m sure he’ll find something to do with it.”

“But I’m not a cop!” Rikki protested.

P’lau smiled at him. “Then Klakraw won’t want you and I’ll just have to slit your throat right here and now.”

“You’re under arrest!” Rikki barked at the Rolm. He glanced at Hackenthrush. “That’s how it goes, right?”

ELEVEN

“Well?” Igon asked, standing at the base of
Exalted Refuse
’s massive superluminal engine block. “Can you fix it?”

“No,” Feh said, popping his bulbous head out of a rough-edged access hole in the side of the block. He rubbed his hands on an oiled rag. “It’s pretty well slagged inside. Gonna need to replace the whole thing.”

“Nice work there, robot,” Cortez said as she and Junior Officer Loy stepped up to the engine block.

“Don’t look at me,” Igon said. “It was the other me.”

Loy arched an eyebrow and looked up to where thick black smoke poured out of the hole where the engine’s top had once been. Dag was up there, strategically spurting blasts of fire-suppressing foam at the dozen or so hotspots that still remained. “Well, what are we gonna do now?” she asked Cortez.

“Start our own civilization?” Igon asked, nuzzling up against Cortez’s calf. “You two will have to double-team me, but if that’s the price I have to pay to keep the species going–”