Pew! Pew! - Bad versus Worse Read online

  “I understand, Milton. It’s no secret that Bargland wants this company to fail. I hate that he is still going to win when we succeed, but this is bigger than him or me. I am willing to risk it all to see my company succeed. This is my dream.”

  “Who is your contact? Even if you finance this endeavor yourself, I don’t know of anyone who could or would do this line of work for less than a million standard credits.”

  “Gordon, of course. He’s our man,” Krample said, leading the way to the elevator which would take them to the ground floor of Krample Co. He didn’t care about his things being moved from his office. The temporary CEO would do what they were going to do. Krample could only hope that his company wouldn’t be so stupid as to announce what Krample had done before he had the chance to confront Galactic Claus himself.

  “Please tell me there is someone else we can go see,” Milton pleaded.

  “There’s no time to look for someone else. Besides, Gordon is great, he’s the best at this.” Gordon really was great at what he did. He provided first-rate services at thirteenth-rate prices and took a portion of his pay in pepperoni passes from his primary employer. Milton had never appreciated Gordon’s unusual but brilliant talent, it was no secret. But Krample couldn’t think of anyone better for the job at hand. Gordon was a brilliant AI framework developer, white-hat hacker, digital security expert, and Chunky Cheddar’s resident pepperoni expert and connoisseur.

  The elevator descended to the lobby, and Krample found himself whistling along with a melodic rendition of Krample Co’s jingle. Milton was worrying too much about this. Krample had made the call the board weren’t smart enough to consider. This way, rather than ruin everything and cash out, Bargland would be forced to hold his position or potentially lose billions as his investors divested funds from the portfolio he managed. Krample wanted Bargland out of the company, but would tolerate his presence if they won the Galactic Claus bid. Bargland would have no choice but to apologize to Krample for being so short-sighted. He could picture it now, Bargland fumbling through an apology while Krample soaked it in, relishing in the victory.

  As the doors opened, Krample and his Milton rushed out into the spacious lobby of the building. There were people sitting in chairs, probably waiting for meetings with people around the company.

  “Sir, is everything all right?” Xallia asked. She was a sweet Kolithian woman who had been with the company for many years, working even when they occupied no more than a small office space and virtual kiosk in a station mall.

  Krample nodded to the woman, walking up to the desk and folding his arms across the surface. “Everything is fine. Has the board contacted you yet, Xallia?”

  She shook her head, her long silver hair flowing like liquid metal around her gentle face. “No, sir. Should I be expecting a call?”

  “Yes, you probably should. They’re going to say some bad things about me—probably that I’ve sabotaged this company. It isn’t the case, and I want you to know that we are really going to become Galactic Claus this year, that or we will start a new toy company once I’m permanently fired as CEO.”

  “I don’t understand. What did you do?” she asked, worry forming in her shimmering eyes.

  “I made the decision to risk it all to achieve my lifelong dream. I just want you to know even if I fail you have a place at my new company. You’ve been with me for so long, and even though I’ve made mistakes, I never want to lose you as an employee or a friend,” Krample said.

  “You’re leaving Thelas?”

  Krample nodded.

  Xallia stood from her chair, pulling off her headset and walking around the desk. “I’m coming with you. I’m not going to take no for an answer either.”

  Krample smiled. “I’m not going to argue with that. Milton?”

  Milton just shook his head, blushing awkwardly. “Happy to have you with us, Xallia.”

  The three of them walked out of the building, approaching a company car.

  “Sorry, sir. Just got orders from the board not to drive you anywhere,” the driver said, rolling up the window and locking the doors.

  Krample shook his head, cursing under his breath as the three of them walked to a bench. “I normally wouldn’t take a company car, I thought we would have a better chance with this than driving my own car which I’m sure Bargland has already impounded. He is going out of his way to make my life as inconvenient as possible right now.”

  “Maybe we ought to order a cab,” Milton suggested.

  “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea. I’ll take care of it.” Krample pulled out his phone and opened the internet browser, cursing to himself when he found his phone plan had already been canceled. “Xallia, could you please call us a cab? They canceled my phone plan already.”

  “Of course,” she said, dialing the number and connecting with a local cab company.

  Even the industrialized segment of Thelas seemed remote and empty. There were several cities on the planet, but the landscape was harsh and barren, making it an ideal location for manufacturing, but not much else. The midday suns were blazing, fixed in the dusty brown sky. Krample loosened his tie, unbuttoning the top button of his shirt, trying to help the fabric breath. Even with the self-cooling mesh, it was uncomfortable out here, but the way security was looking at him from the lobby of his own building made it clear he wouldn’t be welcomed back inside, at least not until he shifted the tide and once again became a hero to the company.

  Sweat was plastering his forehead now, and he wiped away the thick droplets before they could mess up his perfect hair. He couldn’t help but glance over at the tray of evil cookies. The guba berry resin was melting in the suns, forming pockets of what looked like molten lava as the cookies capsized from within, melding together into an indistinguishable mash of ruined sugar. Krample sighed, at least he had eaten several of them before the board meeting. It would be awhile before Milton would make them again.

  “Do you want a ground car or planetary cruiser?” Xallia asked Krample, pulling him out of his thoughts.

  “Just the ground car. We’re going to my residence for now,” Krample replied. If Xallia was uncomfortable in the heat like Milton and Krample, she wasn’t showing it. The stunningly beautiful but intelligent Kolithian race were different from humans in a lot of ways, self-regulation of body temperature being one of them.

  A few minutes later, the yellow cab rolled up, and the driver rolled down his window. “Xallia, party of three,” he barked, tossing a wad of trash—what looked like the chewed remnants of an Asteroid Burger—out of the window, before fixing his gaze forward and waiting impatiently.

  The three of them climbed into the back of the cab, buckling up as the driver sped away, throwing his Mega Gulp cup out the window after sucking down the last of it. “Where to?”

  Krample gave him the address, enjoying the much-needed change in temperature as the car’s AC system cooled him and his friends.

  Krample paid the driver with physical standard credits, tipping him generously as they pulled up to Krample’s residence 30 minutes later. His home was lavish and isolated from any other buildings or signs of life for that matter. Krample enjoyed the remoteness of the home, and credits went a long way in the Thelas economy. What would have costed him trillions in one of the Jolian core worlds was only a fraction of the price way out here where most people didn’t want to live.

  The three of them walked up to the gate and Krample stepped up to the retina scanner, confirming his identity. The gate rolled open, granting them access. Krample’s home, more of an oasis in an otherwise harsh landscape, was built of polished white stone carved into geometric, angular features throughout the four stories of the building. There were tropical trees surrounding the exterior water features, a moat and drawbridge leading to the front door, and several terraces and verandas throughout the lavish, somewhat towering design.

  As they approached, the drawbridge lowered itself over the moat which doubled as a lazy river connecting to hi
s swimming pool. They entered the home and Krample set to work.

  “Milton, go to the armory. We’re going to need blasters. A lot of blasters.”

  He nodded, rushing down the hall.

  “Anything I can do while you pack?” Xallia asked.

  Krample shook his head. “Just make yourself at home for now. We’ll be leaving shortly. We can pick up some new clothes and anything else you need at the station mall, we’re running short on time. I’m just going to get out of this suit.”

  Krample walked to his room, pulling off his suit and changing into slacks and a button-up. He grabbed a compression bag from his closet, loading it with casual clothes and formal-attire alike. It was difficult to predict what situations would come up once they had left Thelas, and Krample found it was better to be prepared for any situation. Satisfied with his bag, he returned to meet with the others. Milton was hauling a duffel bag stuffed with blasters of all kinds. Krample was a collector of them, but it seemed, for the most part, that Milton’s selection had been tasteful and he had avoided the antiques and rarities.

  “All right, let’s get going. My Hopper is in the garage.”

  Milton winced. “Are you sure it’s even safe to fly? I know it has a lot of sentimental value to you, but it was questionable to fly when you started this company and that was years ago.” It was no secret that Milton didn’t enjoy flying of any kind, but Krample sure had a surprise for him.

  “Yes, Milton. I think you will be pleasantly surprised, actually.”

  They walked to the garage, more of a hangar than anything else, really. There were a few ground cars tucked away in a parking strip, but the majority of the space was consumed by the Hopper G2XV Frigate. In a planetary environment, the Hopper looked too big—clunky almost, for its typical function of either a scout ship or light transport. The exterior of the blocky ship was coated in a layer of bleeding rust where the mint green paint had faded or chipped away. In all honesty, it looked like a piece of junk, but Krample was glad he had held off on the paint job—it would draw less suspicion this way and would blend in with most of the civilian traffic leaving and entering Thelas.

  “Sire, it really doesn’t look like this is safe to even fly around the planet, let alone make it through the atmosphere,” Milton pleaded. “Maybe we could get a cab to the spaceport and hire off-world transportation there.”

  Krample smiled, walking up to the Hopper. The ramp deployed, and Krample couldn’t help but laugh as Milton took in the unlikely sight with his mouth ajar.

  3

  Milton hadn’t known exactly what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t this. The interior of the Hopper seemed impossible compared to the outward appearance. It was lined in sleek white and black surfaces, the newest, best technology and modules money could buy, and a warp-capable fusion reactor drive which seemed way too powerful for the small frame of an otherwise dated frigate which had been a budget option even for the outer planets almost twenty years ago. In fact, Milton was starting to believe there was nothing left from the old model—Krample had just recreated the aesthetics with a ship probably worth millions of standard credits.

  “I’ve redone everything. We’ve got stealth capabilities, a brand-new chassis, and all the conveniences of long-term travel packed into this small of a space. I just haven’t gotten around to painting it yet,” Krample commented, giving them a tour of the ship. “This model has a lot of sentimental value to me, and I wanted to pay homage to my humble beginnings by making a new one with some parts.”

  The ship seemed large now, but Milton knew that it wouldn’t seem that way when they were in space. Aside from the cockpit, there was a shared restroom with a shower, a common area with entertainment and games, and a room with collapsable bunks.

  “It looks like you have aGrav setup?” Milton said, appraising the layout.

  “Yes, but we can travel without it if you don’t like the sensation. Or we can do constant acceleration if you two would prefer—I’m an easy flyer and can get by with anything.”

  “aGrav,” Milton and Xallia said at the same time.

  Krample nodded. “Easy enough. Let’s get going. I’d like to meet with Gordon before Chunky Cheddar’s closes in eight standard hours.”

  The three of them took their seats in the cockpit, buckling in with the dual shoulder restraints while Krample toggled the reactor’s ignition and prepared for takeoff. The top of the garage, hinged on two seperate receding doors, slid open and Krample fired the vertical ignition, slowly lifting the Hopper off its landing platform using non-combustion force to protect everything else in the space from damage. When he was clear, he pressed the lateral throttle, sliding the ship to the left of his home and checking one last time to make sure everything was ready to go. “All right. Green across the board. We’ll be there in no time,” Krample said, punching the throttle and adjusting the ship to a 45-degree angle as it rocketed across the dusty sky.

  Milton was trying to say something, but under the acceleration forces, his words were stifled. The Hopper, despite its bulky shape was surprisingly silent as it rocketed across the barren Thelas landscape, passing through brown clouds of torrid dust and pockets of twisting turbulence. Krample activated the energy shielding around the exterior of the Hopper, letting the algorithm run to smooth the contour of the ship which was far from ideal when flying in atmosphere.

  Krample’s head was still pushed back into his headrest. It wasn’t comfortable, but he was used to much higher acceleration forces in short durations. He considered rolling the ship for fun, maybe throwing in a front or backflip for good measure, but thought better of it. Milton’s stomach might not make it through the maneuver, and Krample had seen how much blue milk the man had consumed while they were enjoying the evil cookies. Not only that, but Xallia was on the ship as well and he had no idea how much she enjoyed flying, though she seemed to be holding up better than Milton for the time being.

  The main console projected atmospheric impact in twenty seconds. The 2Gs they were pulling wasn’t going to cut it. “Initiating final push,” Krample called to the others. He pushed the throttle to planetary exit position, maxing out the acceleration force at 4Gs for the final few seconds.

  The energy shielding surrounding the Hopper started to smolder—bright sparks and orange light dancing through the now highly visible outline. The dusty brown sky gave way to the endless sea of black with stars, planets, and stations visible in the distance. Krample admired the view as he always did. There was a certain peaceful mystery to space, even this far away from the system that Humans had called their home for so long.

  “Ughhh, can we get the aGrav going yet?” Milton asked.

  Krample clicked the button and felt himself slowly being pulled back down into his chair as the Hopper returned to the familiar 1.1 standard Gs of Thelas.

  “Well that was exciting,” Xallia said. “I’ve been on Thelas for way too long. I always forget how pretty space is.”

  Just as he was about to respond, warning lights flared across the board and the screens flashed red. Krample turned his attention to the consoles, trying to discern what was happening. Away from the major space traffic lanes of heavy freighters moving in the distance, there were two small shapes zipping toward them at an alarming speed. Krample amplified video feed of the approaching shapes—two illegal war-era fighters. They were locking on with weapon targeting systems.

  “Bargland?” Milton demanded, his voice thin with fear.

  “I wouldn’t put it past him,” Krample seethed. It seemed Bargland wasn’t too fond of Krample leaving Thelas after all. Still, he didn’t think Bargland could have put together an attack like this in only an hour’s time. No, this had likely been planned for a while and it seemed that Bargland was ready to remove Krample from his own company for good. If he didn’t get them out of this, there would be no probationary period for Krample—he would never become Krample Claus.

  “They have missile lock!” Xallia cried.

  Krample gru
nted and flipped two switches. The first was the toggle on the aGrav, and the second was for the disruptor array which would blast the two fighters with packets of interference which was rated to disrupt most IR-lock systems. As weightlessness once again washed over them, Krample ramped up the throttle, propelling them away from Thelas before looping back around and facing the Hopper toward the core worlds of the Jolian system. “Milton, I need you to get a positive ID on the make and model of those fighters. I have my own network connectivity on the Hopper and we should be in range of the nearest Hypergate relay. We need to know if they have long-range capabilities.”

  “On it,” Milton said. “Should I alert the J.E.F.?”

  “No, they can’t help us and we don’t need the attention once we actually start doing something illegal.”

  “Missile lock is scrambled, but they’re hitting us back and trying to disrupt the onboard AI,” Xallia reported from her analytics console.

  Krample could see that the ship’s CPU and neural net were struggling—that much was apparent from his simplified information feed, but he was glad Xallia was on board and giving him the facts while he worked on escaping their pursuers. When he got back to Thelas, he would be sure to make true on his threat and wrap Bargland up in Galaxmas lights, drench him in asteroid nog and cover him in tinsel, even if the asteroid nog was expired by then. Krample pushed the thought out of his head, focusing on the task at hand, accelerating them to 4Gs while he adjusted the ship’s course to race toward the Hyperlane. The Hopper had an onboard jump drive, and he didn’t think the goons racing toward them had long-range capabilities. If they thought he was going to use the hyperlane, they might not suspect a forced jump away from Thelas at the last second.

  The Hopper wasn’t outfitted with any weapons, only defensive systems which had seemed pointless at the time. There hadn’t been a war in the Jolian system for hundreds of years, yet Bargland or whoever else was behind this was still able to procure mercenaries with access to highly illegal fighters outfitted with some serious ordnance. This wasn’t come cheap cut-rate hit attempt, this was the real deal.