Pew! Pew! - Bad versus Worse Page 18

  “Nana, are you giving me the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech?” I stare at her.

  “Well, honey, it’s just that you’ve been awfully clingy. Always inviting me to eat with you, or go for a walk, or watch one of those dreadful robot westerns of yours. I get bored.”

  Wow. What do I say to that?

  She pats me on the cheek. “Aw, you look sad now. Tell you what. This game’s just wrapping up, so how about I come do whatever it was you wanted me to do? Eat something with spoons or something, just the way you like.”

  Now she’s pitying me. Great.

  “Actually, I was going to ask you if you wanted to help Pinky and me put up some holiday decorations.”

  “That actually sounds fun.” Nana perks up. “Okay, let me collect my money from these losers and we can be on our way.”

  My nana, the card shark. Or cardsharp, depending on what part of the universe you’re from. Either way, my canasta-savvy grandmother really cleans up.

  The elderly people retreating from her room don’t seem to mind that they’ve just lost their money to her. They ask her to make sure she tells them about the next game before they shuffle away for their midmorning nap.

  “I wouldn’t have thought there would be such a big canasta following here,” I say as we stroll back to the spot I left Pinky.

  “Oh, it’s everywhere,” Nana says. “Canasta’s highly addictive to old people. You youngsters have your bongs and injectables, but for us old people, canasta’s the biggest high. Once someone starts, they can’t stop.”

  “Are you teasing me, Nana?”

  She stops, forcing me to stop, too. “I never joke about canasta.”

  “Right,” I say. “Sorry. I guess I should stay away from it.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to worry about it until your mid-fifties or so. Young people like you are immune.”

  We turn a corner, but Pinky isn’t where I left her.

  “It looks nice here.” Nana pokes at a pom pom.

  “Pinky must have moved on to another area. This is where she was when I came to check on you.”

  “Let’s find her, then! We’ll decorate this whole ship.” Nana straightens her frumpy sweater, and I can tell she’s fired up.

  Maybe it’s all that canasta in her system.

  We find Pinky on the opposite side of the ship.

  “Why are you all the way over here?” I ask. “I thought we were going to work from one end to the other.”

  Pinky ignores me. “Nana Rose! Good to see you out and about. You doing okay? Charlie was worried about you.”

  Pinky fist bumps Nana and they do some kind of secret handshake thing.

  That’s new.

  “I’m fine, honey,” Nana says. “Just needed some time with people my own age. You know how it is.”

  “Sure,” Pinky agrees. “You old folks have to talk about the olden days, like when people liked to eat bologna.”

  “Pinky,” I say, “I think you’re being a little insensitive. No one on Earth has ever liked bologna.”

  Nana nods in confirmation.

  Pinky looks amazed. “Really? Well, they love it on Abundance.”

  “Where?” I glance at Nana to see if she knows what Pinky’s talking about, but she’s wearing a blank expression.

  “Abundance,” Pinky repeats. “Don’t let the name fool you. It’s a smarmy little dustball of a planet. Exists entirely as a junk mail hub. I hate those guys.”

  “There’s a whole planet for junk mail?” I learn something new every day.

  “Oh yeah,” Pinky affirms. “There has to be. Those jerks have been run off of all the decent planets. People can only take so many phishing scams and implications that their body parts aren’t big enough before they rise up and squash that shit.”

  “Makes sense. So, why are we on this side of the ship now?” I hope she’ll answer me this time.

  “I thought I heard something, but it must have been paranoia. We can get started over here. You two hang out for a minute and I’ll bring the decorations.”

  Nana instead follows Pinky as she moves away. “I’ll come help. We should bring a lot of stuff. It’s going to take a lot to cover up all this ship’s ugly.”

  Few people could get away with insulting Pinky’s home. Actually, probably just one person.

  Then they’re gone and I’m standing around in a hallway like a stalker or something. Awesome.

  “Charlie!” I turn and there’s Greta, smiling and radiant.

  “Hey! Did Pinky call you?”

  “Yes, early this morning, but I had to work. A group of executives got on board at the International Space Station, and I had to give them the Chance Fleet spiel. But I’m here now. Where are the decorations?”

  “We did one hall, now we’re going to work over here. Nana and Pinky went to get the stuff.”

  “Oh, okay.” She smiles. “I guess we just wait?”

  “Looks like it.” A fiendish part of my brain recognizes that this is an opportunity to press her for information so I can get her the perfect present. “Is there anything in particular you like about Alpha Centauri? This will be my first time there.”

  She scrunches up her face in that way she does when she’s thinking, which looks like she smells something bad. It’s cute, though.

  “Alpha Centauri is okay,” she finally says. “It has a bunch of planets, lots of people, and there are things to do.”

  “But?” I prompt.

  “I don’t know, I just can’t think of anything great about it. Or terrible, either. It’s just kind of average.”

  That’s not helpful.

  “So there’s nothing you suggest we do when we get there?” We’ve made a habit of visiting the various ports during stops and layovers, but she’s not making this sound good.

  “There are places we could go, if you want to.”

  “But nowhere that you really like.”

  She lets out a little sigh. “No, not really. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. If there’s nothing worth doing, we’ll skip it. We only have a few ports there, anyway. We can stay on the ship and plan some fun for when we get to the Mebdarian system. I cannot wait to see that.”

  She brightens. “Ooh, yes, that’s a good one. Lots of fun stuff to do.”

  “Think Pinky will show us around her home planet? I did show you guys a little bit of Earth, so it seems fair.”

  “I don’t know. She’s never said much about her home.”

  “Like someone else I know,” I tease.

  She’s about to say something when her gaze shifts. “There they are. Wow, that’s a lot of stuff.”

  Indeed, all I really see is a mass of boxes and bags with two pairs of legs underneath. It’s kind of funny looking, like all the stuff has grown its own legs.

  “Where did you get all this?” Greta asks when they set the boxes down. She’s already rummaging around.

  She pulls a long pike out of a box. It’s stopped with a red gumdrop that’s bigger than my fist. “Hey, does this—” she breaks off when the gumdrop lights up.

  “We found a bunch of stuff hidden in the back of the storage room.” Pinky sets down her mountain of festive goods.

  “Awesome!” Greta begins digging out other pikes and setting them in a pile. Some have gumdrops of other colors, while others have snowmen or demented little clowns with tall hats. “These are great! We can put them all down the hall.”

  Pinky’s pulling green and red stockings out of the box she’d carried. “There are hundreds of these. We could put one on every cabin door, probably.”

  Nana’s rummaging around now too, so I lean over the box she carried and pull out a rubber mask. I don’t know what it’s meant to celebrate, but it’s ugly and warty and I put it aside. Then I find something really good.

  “Look at this! It’s a snap-together sleigh, with a seat people could actually sit on. I wonder where we could put that.”

  Greta comes over and peers in at it. “Mayb
e the dining room? It definitely wouldn’t fit in a corridor.”

  “I wonder if there are any reindeer that go with it.” I move some things aside and dig deeper. A sound makes me pull back.

  “What’s wrong?” Greta asks.

  I laugh at myself. “Nothing. It’s just jingle bells.” I pull out a basket full of bells the size of ping pong balls. “For a second there, the sound reminded me of—”

  I freeze when a blagrook head raises up and looks at me.

  “Bloody hell, it’s a blagrook!” Pinky reaches down, grabs a gumdrop pike, and swings it baseball style, knocking the creature against the wall with a hard crack.

  Greta’s glow is entirely gone, but her jaw is set as she grabs a big pink gumdrop pike. “There’s never just one of them.”

  All of our eyes are fixed on the boxes.

  Nana circles around behind. “You all ready?”

  Crap crap crap crap crap. Am I ready to face a bunch of bloodthirsty blagrooks that are about to get dumped out of holiday bins? This is like some horror movie.

  I bend down and grab a gumdrop pole. “Let’s do it.”

  Nana shoves the boxes over in one movement and a dozen or more writhing, flailing blagrooks roll out.

  Pinky’s on it, assuming the first line of defense. She knocks three of them flying before they even get to their feet.

  Nana’s grabs one with her bare hands and cracks its head against the wall. And then another.

  Greta holds her ground when one comes running for her. With a grunt, she swings her gumdrop stick. The blagrook hits the wall, but much more softly than when Pinky does it.

  Fortunately, Pinky steps on it while it’s dazed.

  I hold my ground, too, waiting for one of the things to come my way. But they don’t. The three women in my life have this situation in hand. While they’re murdering blagrooks, the cabin doors start fluttering open.

  It’s kind of funny, actually. A door will open, a head pops out, a person gasps or screams, and the door shuts again. And then it happens again with another door.

  I can’t help it. I start laughing.

  Greta looks at me like I’m nuts, then she starts to giggle, too. Soon, Nana and Pinky are laughing too, even as they’re all pounding mean little aliens.

  “Ha ha ha!” Pinky shouts, bashing one against the wall so hard it leaves a grease stain behind.

  “That’s ho ho ho,” I remind her.

  “Right. Dammit. I keep messing that one up.”

  When none of the little demons are moving, we stand, poised and ready, but it appears we’ve gotten them all.

  Well, they’ve gotten them all.

  Nana gives one of the boxes a good shake, then does the same with the other. Rolls of ribbon and boxes of balloons shift and tumble out, but no more blagrooks.

  Gus comes running around the corner, carrying a pulse rifle. “Clear the way!”

  We stand still.

  He stops, scans the scene, and stands there awkwardly. “There were guest complaints about a blagrook invasion.”

  “We got it,” Pinky says. “No sweat.”

  “Oh. Well. Thanks.” Gus seems unsure of what to do next, and I understand. What does one do with a dozen blagrook carcasses, and a couple metric tons of holiday decorations?

  That’s nobody’s idea of a good time.

  Gus gathers himself. “Right. Pinky and Mrs. Cyborg, could you please remain here to reassure guests that the situation is under control?”

  “I prefer Ms. Cyborg, if you’re going to be racist,” Nana sniffs.

  “Of course,” he answers smoothly. “My apologies, Ms. Cyborg. Greta, it will be up to you to make people feel comfortable. I’ll organize the porters to clean up and finish putting up these decorations.”

  “What about me?” I ask.

  He blinks, as if seeing me for the first time. “Oh, hello, Mr. Kenny.”

  “Aw, come on, dude. I’ve been here the whole time,” I protest. “When you tell this story, don’t leave me out of it.”

  “My grandson was the one who first found the vile monsters,” Nana says, stepping toward Gus.

  “He did!” Pinky steps in, too, still holding her gumdrop cudgel. “In fact, if it weren’t for Charlie and his plague of bad luck, I bet these things wouldn’t even be on the ship.”

  “Uh, that’s probably not a good thing to tell people,” I say. I know she’s trying to be supportive, but that doesn’t make me sound good.

  Greta moves in, too, and they’re so busy defending me that none of them see the lone blagrook that tumbles out of a box when something shifts.

  I don’t even scream, and I’m feeling really proud of myself for that, but it bares its fangs and hisses. The only way I’m not getting my jugular ripped out is if I handle this myself.

  All right. I can do this. I’m ready. I choke up on my gumdrop stake, which I’ve continued to clutch—I mean hold. I’ve been holding it in a manly way.

  Resisting the urge to close my eyes to protect them from the sharp claws of the monster, I stare right at it and swing.

  Hard.

  It flies, just like when Pinky hits them, and falls to the ground motionless. Just like when Pinky does it.

  Oh my god.

  Oh my god, I did it.

  Now Greta and Nana are hugging me and Pinky’s making sure the thing is dead and all the blood in my entire body is rushing to my head.

  “You saw it!” I shout at Gus. I didn’t mean to say that. Or to yell.

  Gus locks eyes with me, and for a moment, we’re having a whole man-to-man, I-see-what-you-did-there moment.

  Then his professionalism slides into place and he’s regular old Gus again. “Yes, sir. I did indeed see that. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to see about handling this mess.”

  Pinky uses the hooked part of a giant candy cane to push all the dead blagrooks into a pile. That’s nice of her, simplifying the unpleasant task that lies ahead of the porters.

  “You did good, Charlie.” Pinky gives me a high five. “Very heroic.”

  “Really?” I wonder if she’s just humoring me.

  “Couldn’t have done it better myself.”

  I tuck away that sound bite in my memory because I’m pretty sure I’ll never hear her say it again.

  Then Pinky lets out of regretful sigh.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  “Once Gus gets back, we’re going to have to figure out how to get rid of the rest of the blagrooks.” Pinky looks grim.

  “You think there are more?” Nana asks. “I haven’t heard any.”

  “There’s almost no chance of these being the only ones,” Pinky says.

  Greta takes a deep breath and sets her jaw. “Okay, then. Let’s figure out how to get rid of them, without letting the guests know. We can’t have a panic. It would scare people away from flying on the Chance Fleet.”

  “That’s what Gus would say,” Pinky says. “But I don’t have to be mad at him anymore. He gave me a really nice apology and a sweet I-heart-flamingoes t-shirt that fits great.”

  “Wait,” I say. “Why would he have a shirt like that?”

  Pinky shrugs. “He was planning to give me an early Hannukah present? I can’t imagine he knows anyone else my size who loves flamingoes.”

  “Yeah. See, he must really like you.” I try to say this convincingly.

  Pinky continues to look indifferent. “Hm, that might explain a thing or two. But let’s focus on what’s important here. We need to get rid of those blagrooks.”

  I hide an inward sigh. I didn’t get even five minutes to celebrate my victory. But no matter. I need to help Greta and Pinky figure this out, because this isn’t just Greta’s employment we’re talking about.

  It’s our home.

  Chapter 4

  “What attracts blagrooks?” I ask.

  The four of us have gathered in Nana’s cabin, which, fortunately, is bigger than mine.

  “Warmth, noise, and blood.” Pinky’s answer comes immedi
ately.

  “What kind of blood?” Greta asks. “The spilled kind, or the stuff that’s still inside us?”

  “Both. They’re not picky. Though the spilled kind has a stronger odor they can smell from farther away.”

  Greta nods. “Okay, then. We’ll throw a party.”

  Nana’s been sitting in the corner, leaning back with her eyes closed. I’m pretty sure she was napping. But she straightens and her eyes open. “You’re going to use your guests as bait? I like it.”

  “Not bait.” Greta cringes. “Exactly. I mean, how better to keep them safe from blagrooks than get them all together where we can guard them? But if that also draws the demons out so we can eradicate them, then that’s all the better, right?”

  We all look to Pinky because, let’s face it, when it comes to battle, she’s our general.

  “It could work.” She frowns deeply, her eyes making tiny but quick movements from side to side as she thinks. “Yeah, I could make it work. But it won’t be easy to plan a party on short notice and get everyone to attend.”

  Greta bounces up to her feet. “Leave that to me! I’ll organize the porters, draft the maintenance workers, and fill Gus in on what’s happening. You three figure out the plan for the blagrooks.”

  She hurries out.

  “Think she can do it?” Nana asks.

  “Absolutely.” There’s no doubt in my mind. If Greta decided to move a mountain, it would happen, one way or another. I have absolute faith in her. It’s not just about her luck, either. It’s her heart, her kindness, and her tenacity.

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking, Pinky?”

  Pinky slaps her knee. “Yes! We are going to do this! I’ve got it all planned out. All I need to know is this.”

  She turns to my nana. “How dependent are you on oxygen?”