Chapter Nine
MAYHEM
"If I didn't have a conscience..."

In the blasted hulk that was once the proud Gladknight V, Gladius and Geronimo search for signs of Snax.

"Doesn't look like he was back here, Happybutt," Geronimo says. He is poking into Snax's things, still stowed under the console, when the foreign device winking beneath the panel catches his eye. "What's this?"

Geronimo points out the transmitter to Gladius.

"It's military." Gladius removes the device from the console, examines it, then heaves it at the wall, smashing it to pieces.

"What's a Union toadie copilot doin' with military hardware?"

"Permittees don't have military hardware." Gladius sinks into the Magno Chair(tm) and rests his chin on his fist, staring forward in silence.

Geronimo studies Gladius, searching for a clue to the meaning of this odd development. "Do you think Snax has––"

"Shut up!" Gladius glares at Geronimo.

Geronimo shrugs. "I'm just tryin' to figure––"

WHAM!

Geronimo is knocked to the floor by a diving Gladius, the big man's hand covering his mouth. The hum of roving Blast O'Bots(tm) fills the area.

Gladius peeks through the blown out door then quickly pulls back. A pair of robots fly by.

"Shit," Geronimo whispers, "all we got is this handy face ripper and a stupid little Zipper."

The bots disappear down a tunnel.

BWWAMMMM!!! zzzAAAPPPP!!! FRRRAAPPP!!!

"Sounds like a firefight," Gladius says, moving to the doorway, the Zipper(tm) at the ready. "I want to see if they've cornered that traitor Mawhoooba."

"I'm not goin' out there."

Gladius shakes his head. "You may be freelance, Lavoriss, but you're still a weasel." He slips out the burnt hatchway.

"Hey," insists Geronimo, rising to his feet, "I am not a weasel." He sneaks a cautious look outside. Gladius is moving in the direction of the bots, toward the sound of the firefight. Never been known to cut and run. With a grimace, Geronimo follows his ex-boss.

BWWWAAAAPPPPPP!!!!!

One of the bots explodes from a direct hit by an Intensifier Musket(tm). Four more Blast O'Bots(tm) hover and dart amongst the nooks and crannies of the surrounding cave. Beneath them, three Stellar Crak Reconnaissance Team troopers lie dead. Eight more hide in and around the Vi-Scout(tm).

Captain Salata South turns to Lieutenant Cleanerschmidt, gesturing to himself and then to a tunnel leading out of the cavern. The Lieutenant winces, nods, and aims his Intensifier at a hovering bot. He fires. The bot darts away, disappearing into the shadows.

Salata bolts from the protection of the Vi-Scout's(tm) landing gear and sprints toward the tunnel. A Blast O'Bot(tm) appears before him, stopping him in his tracks. The bot's laser cannon lines up on his chest.

ZZZIIIPPP!!

The bot suddenly spins out of control, banging into the rock wall. Salata takes cover behind some duct work, draws a bead on the bot and fires. It expires from the direct hit. Then, peering into the gloom to determine who fired the shot that winged the bot, Salata glimpses a human form ducking back down the tunnel. Cocking the Intensifier Musket(tm), he hustles down the access way.

South steps from the tunnel's gloom into the next docking area to see the disheveled Gladknight V with its IDR Company and Union logos emblazoned on the side.

"A Scow Cow," he says, softly.

"You got that right, Buddy."

Salata jerks his head to the voice and comes muzzle to muzzle with the muzzle of a Zipper(tm).

"Well, if it isn't Lieutenant South," Gladius remarks, wincing at the sight of South's disfigurement.

"Captain," corrects Salata…

…It was eighteen years ago when they first met. Sergeant Gladius Slate and his six men were buttoned down on the edge of a bog by guerrilla sniper fire. A scar-less Lieutenant Salata South had radioed an order that Slate advance to a new position, deeper into the swamp. Slate's refusal to move in the face of enemy fire had sent South into a tirade, and now he was storming out to Gladius's position to take charge.

He arrives at the scene, gingerly tiptoeing around the pits of muck and mire. Gladius, noticing the freshly pressed creases in the officer's clean uniform, rolls his eyes.

South crouches amongst the men, faces Gladius. "This is insubordination, Sergeant! When I give an order I expect it to be followed… immediately!"

Gladius blinks twice, slowly.

"You will be disciplined," South continues, "don't kid yourself."

The two soldiers glare at each other. Gladius's men toss nervous glances amongst themselves.

"I say we pull back, sir," remarks Gladius.

The fury flares in South's eyes. "Your career in the forces is over, Sergeant! Let's move out!" He starts to scramble up the low embankment, toward the enemy.

Slate grabs the Lieutenant by his belt and yanks him down, sending his clean uniform into the mud.

A startled South snaps a fierce gaze at Slate. "Court martial!" he screams, his face bright scarlet.

"If I didn't have a conscience," Gladius replies calmly, "I'd let you go over that knoll." With that, he plucks South's cap from his head and points toward the bank. He tosses the cap into the air, where it hangs briefly, twirling…

BOOM!

A bot explodes in a splash of sparks. The area is now clear of the mechanical threat.

Cleanerschmidt rapidly reloads his musket. "Come on," he orders, waving to the Reconnaissance Team.

Cautiously, in pairs, the team moves down the tunnel, stopping at the entrance to the next landing bay. Seeing nothing but the Gladknight V they advance, fanning out around the edges of the platform.

"Hold it," orders a voice from within the ship.

Cleanerschmidt motions for the team to halt. All eyes lock onto the burnt hatchway, every finger tightening on its trigger. Captain South steps out, Gladius holding the Zipper(tm) to his head.

"Put your guns down," South orders.

The team hesitates, but does so.

"Let him go," snaps Cleanerschmidt.

"Shut your hole, trooper," roars Gladius, hoisting South onto tiptoes by the back of the uniform, "or hack-face here gets a new ear."

A lone Blast O'Bot(tm) suddenly whirs in from another corridor. Everybody freezes. The bot hums, its laser cannon twitching. One of the troopers reaches for a weapon.

BUZZTT!!

With a small puff of steam, a neat, two centimeter hole appears in the trooper's chest. She drops to the floor, dead. The bot hovers, sensing the surrounding area.

BWWWAAMMM!!

The bot suddenly explodes. Lieutenant Cleanerschmidt recoils, bending for his weapon.

ZIP!

The Intensifier Musket(tm) takes a hit, the force buzzing through it causing the Lieutenant to drop it.

"Not another move!" barks Gladius.

Cleanerschmidt straightens, massaging his tingling hands.

"I got it," calls Geronimo, entering the cavern from the opposite access tunnel. He struts into the center of the floor, cradling Salata's Intensifier Musket(tm).

"Looks like we've got ourselves a situation, Sally," Gladius says.

"I think we've got a misunderstanding," corrects Salata.

"No, a misunderstanding is somebody accidentally moving into your docking orbit. Putting a homing device into someone's ship and using them as bait is a situation."

Salata realizes he's caught out. "So, what do you want to do about it?"

"Send your team back to your ship, I want to talk to you alone."

Salata stares at Gladius. His eyes drift down to the Spiffy Sensor Suit Undergarment(tm). The corner of his mouth twitches. "You heard him," he calls to his troops.

Sneering, Geronimo waves the barrel of the Intensifier at them. Slowly, the Stellar Crak Reconnaissance Team edges back into the tunnel, retreating to the Vi-Scout(tm).

Content that the troopers pose no immediate threat, Gladius releases Salata, sending him to the ground. He aims the Zipper(tm) at the prone Captain.

"Okay, Sally, talk."

"Look, Slate, I was just following orders."

"Whose?"

"Vice-Admiral Ragellon."

"Never heard of him. Why did you set me up?"

"That's classified."

"Hey, Happyass, I've seen this guy before," Geronimo chirps. "He ran into me on Lypsix V. He was wearin' the uniform of an IDR Data Division Processor."

"Really. I heard about a security breach in the Data Division. Tsk, tsk, covert operations aren't your style, Sally."

"Look here, Slate––"

"I'm sure the Space Commission would love to hear about a military break-in at the IDR."

"We suspect whomever is behind these terrorist attacks of hijacking Scow Cows to use in the bombings. We needed to set up an IDR agent as bait. That it happened to be you is pure coincidence."

"Why not just put military personnel in an IDR ship?"

"Too risky. Somebody could've found out."

"Could have found out! You risked innocent civilian lives for your selfish military purposes! We almost died!"

"You're under IDR command, that isn't exactly civilian."

Geronimo perks up. "Hey, I'm not––"

"The IDR condoned this operation?! What the hell did the Union have to say about it?"

"No! No, they knew nothing. We couldn't risk tipping our hand."

Gladius looks away, thinking.

Geronimo tries again, "I don't belong to the––"

"So, the military," Gladius blurts, glaring at South, "took it upon themselves to meddle in Company business?"

"Hey, Slate, listen, indiscriminate bombings of governmental and civilian targets is serious business. The IDR connection could be an inside job, we didn't want to risk blowing our cover. We had no choice. We're all in this together, now. Together we have a chance to nab these bastards."

"Yeah, I've heard that one before."

"No harm will befall you," assures Salata, "you have my word. Release me and I'll guarantee you and your friend safe passage back to Desolate Harmony."

"Who's going to explain to my boss about the loss of my ship, Sally?"

"I'll take care of it."

"Harrumph," Geronimo clears his throat.

The Captain's eyes dart back and forth between Gladius and Geronimo. He notes that, underneath the red cape, Geronimo is also in his underwear.

"Mr. Lavoriss, here," Gladius says, "has also had his ship damaged during the proceedings."

"I'll put in a word with your boss, as well."

"Ah, I don't have a boss, I owned my own ship."

"Well, I'll file a full report with your insurance company, if you like."

Geronimo frowns.

"It's the best I can do."

Gladius lowers the Zipper(tm).

"Let's go back to my ship," Salata says, holding out his hand for his Intensifier Musket(tm).

Geronimo looks to Gladius, who gives him a nod. Begrudgingly, Geronimo hands over the Musket.

Salata slings the weapon over his shoulder, turns to go, then addresses Geronimo. "Come on, you can get fixed up in the Vi-Scout while we reconnoiter the area. Your underwear has a leak in it."

Geronimo looks down at his bloody shoulder, just now remembering that he has been shot.

Members of the Reconnaissance Team mill about the Vi-Scout(tm), checking for damage, as the three combatants arrive.

"After you, gentlemen," Salata says, motioning to the gangway.

Geronimo climbs up and in. After a brief hesitation, Gladius follows.

CRRRACCK!

The butt of an Intensifier Musket(tm) smashes into the base of Gladius's skull. He falls to the floor in a daze. As the world swims into blackness he sees Cleanerschmidt standing over him, smiling.

"What the fuck are you doin'?!" screams Geronimo.

Two troopers quickly restrain him.

"You'll have to be placed in detention," Salata remarks, coldly. "We can't have you blabbing what we've found to someone who might have terrorist contacts."

"Bullshit!"

SMACK!

Salata backhands him. "You'll speak to me with respect, shit heel, or not at all. There's a lot more at stake here than the petty problems of two garbage men in skivvies." Salata looks to the pair of wincing soldiers. "Keep an eye on them until we finish our recon."

Deep in the aft hold of the Stencheron Stellar Glider(tm), Snax Mawhoooba wakes with a fright. He sighs heavily, relieved that his extremities have returned to their common pod-like shape. Shifting his weight, he pushes back one of the containers that has crowded him in.

His curiosity about the crammed cargo is quickly displaced by something more pressing. This ship is moving.

On the Stencheron's bridge, Petunia has set the Auto-Nav(tm) for a location several hundred parsecs distant.

"Where's old Mr. Fystik and Master Weenel?" Mr. Munitions(tm) asks in his fatherly voice.

"I'm afraid they won't be joining us this time," Petunia informs with a note of remorse. "It's just you and me, now."

Gladius slowly opens his eyes, his hand reaching to touch the tender spot on the back of his head.

"You okay?" asks Geronimo.

"Yeah," replies Gladius, gingerly sitting up. "I should've known we couldn't trust that skunk."

"Silence!" A trooper steps into the room, gun trained on the pair.

Gladius grunts, staggers to his feet.

"Sit down!"

"I'm just stretching my legs." Gladius innocently spreads his arms and flexes his legs. "See."

The trooper looks down at Gladius's feet. Gladius kicks out, catching the barrel of the gun. Geronimo leaps at the trooper, grabbing him around the neck. Gladius steps into the guard with a solid left to the gut. The trooper exhales and slumps to the floor, gasping for breath.

"Let's get out of here," Gladius says, grabbing the fallen musket.

Outside the ship stands another guard.

"Hey!"

The trooper turns to see the musket, swung like a bat, smash into his face. The force of the blow cracks the gun stock in half. The trooper drops heavily to the floor.

Stepping over the unconscious form, Gladius and Geronimo sneak across the open cavern to the tunnel entrance.

"Let's get to the Enhancement Chamber and pick out a new ship," Gladius says.

"Now you're talkin'! Gladman, what's come over you?"

"The gloves are off." Gladius scowls and the pair quickly slink down the corridor.

Lieutenant Cleanerschmidt leans over a TechnoMass Imploder(tm). He types a four digit code on its keypad, then turns a key in the top. A red light begins to flash.

"Is it set?" Salata asks.

"This place will go nova in ten minutes." The Lieutenant toggles his Commucon(tm). "Denizen, have you finished downloading the computer's memory?"

"It's in the box, we're heading back to the ship," crackles the voice of the Corporal.

"Good. The Imploder's set. Nine forty-two and counting," replies Cleanerschmidt. With a glance to Captain South, they head toward the Vi-Scout(tm).

Gladius and Geronimo watch the two officers retreat down the corridor before crossing the tunnel. Slate stops, looking at the TechnoMass Imploder(tm). His eyes settle on the timer. He slaps Lavoriss on the back and the two men sprint away.

Ducking through the large doors into the Enhancement Chamber, Gladius leads Geronimo through the maze of hardware.

"This one," says Geronimo, pointing at a Galactro Hi-Rigger(tm).

"Too big, and too slow," Gladius says, jogging along.

"This one, here." Geronimo starts up the gangplank of a modified Buzzard Bomber(tm).

"Mercenary trash––" Gladius stops short. "That one," he says, pointing at the sleek, tasteful lines of the Ebony Skulker, Series FX20(tm).

"Yeah!"

The two men scramble through the open hatch into the belly of the Skulker. Inside, they marvel at an elegant array of luxurious furnishings. The plush, black leather of the bridge is broken only by the winking lights of the ship's control console.

"This is a lot of space ship, Gladman," whispers the overwhelmed Geronimo, "think you can handle it?"

"I'd better be able to," returns Gladius, settling into the Piloting Magno Swivel Chair(tm), "it won't be long before that bomb singes our butts."

Glancing over the controls, Gladius touches the sensor pad marked: ATTITOOTERS(tm). The small, maneuvering thrusters ignite. Feeling out the controls, Gladius begins to guide the Skulker into the launch bay.

"Seal the hatch, Geronimo, we'll have to skip the pre-flight. Let's see what this baby can do."

The Stellar Crak Reconnaissance Team arrives at the Vi-Scout(tm). They slow their approach, seeing the unconscious body of the guard.

"Load him in," orders Cleanerschmidt.

"The bastards got away," curses Salata. "Oh well, they won't last long. Let's get out of here, we've got less than four minutes."

The team boards the Scout, Denizen taking her place at the helm.

"Closing outer hatch," she informs evenly, "activating Magno Chairs and Benches on my mark."

The soldiers take their places, Salata moving into the Magno Command Chair(tm).

"Mark."

There is a hum as the Magnos activate.

"Turbo Thrusters on!"

WWWWHHHHHSSSSHHHH!

The Vi-Scout(tm) begins to rise.

"The doors are closed," squeals Geronimo. "How the hell are we gonna get outta here if the launch bay doors are closed."

"Sit down and shut up."

Gladius flips a cover on the piloting joystick. A large red button on the grip lights up. His other hand reaches for the HypoBlast O'Boost(tm) button. "Ready?"

"What the fuck are you doi––"

BWAAARRRR!!

The two men are jammed back in their Magno Chairs(tm). The Skulker lurches toward the closed hangar doors. Gladius stabs the red button. Two fireballs burst from the front of the black ship. The door explodes and the Ebony Skulker, Series FX20(tm) erupts through the flaming remains.

"We're clear of the planet," calls Denizen. "Beginning orbital ascent."

The Vi-Scout(tm) lifts its nose to the stars, its Mini-HootToot MatterMovers(tm) blazing as it heads toward the Annihilator.

DEE-DEE! DEE-DEE!

An amber warning light flashes on the helm console.

"We've got a bandit at six o'clock!"

"What is it?" snaps Salata.

"Can't tell," Cleanerschmidt calls, checking the scanner in front of him, "it's coming too fast."

Salata hits a button, opening a communications channel. "Annihilator…"

"Here sir," returns the Annihilator's helmsman.

"Launch a Homing Detect O'Probe at the hull of this bandit that's coming up…"

VVVWWWWSSSSHHHHH!!!

The Vi-Scout(tm) shakes in the gravity flux stream of the passing Skulker.

"It's just passed us," shouts Salata, "it'll be passing you in seconds."

"We've got it on the scanner," assures the helmsman. "Launching probe… now."

The Ebony Skulker screams toward the Annihilator, Gladius fighting to maintain control of the powerful craft. Geronimo peeks out the view port, seeing the awesome shape of the Mark II Battle Accelerator HyperCraft(tm). Blasting over the bow of the Annihilator, neither man notices the small Homing Detect O'Probe(tm) as it adheres to the hull of the Skulker.

"Kick in the hyper drive, Gladman! It's trainin' its weapons on us!"

The large Tremor Blaster II(tm) cannons of the Annihilator try to lock onto the rapidly receding shape of the Skulker.

Gladius's face is twisted with g-force. "Prepare for light speed!"

The Skulker bucks twice under the sudden, tremendous thrust of the Cyan HooterTooters(tm), the pilot straining at the controls.

"We have target lock," informs the helmsman of the Annihilator.

"Fire, goddammit!" orders Ragellon.

The helmsman smacks the firing button.

Geronimo looks back, out the view port of the Skulker. His eyes widen. Two crimson points of light accelerate toward the black ship.

"Gladius… Glad… "

The Skulker breaks the barrier into hyperspace. Both men are crushed into their seats as they make the jump to light speed plus.

The helmsman watches his scanner. The light pulses from the Tremor Blaster II(tm) cannons disappear, heading for deep space, their target having leapt into hyperspace.

"Missed, sir."

"Damn." The Vice-Admiral switches his intercom to the Vi-Scout's(tm) channel. "Salata! Who was on that ship?"

On board the Vi-Scout(tm) Salata speaks into the transmitter. "We can't know for sure, sir, but I have a pretty good idea."

Ragellon cuts off the communication, turns to the helmsman. "Did the probe attach?"

"Yes, sir."

"Is it working?"

The helmsman tunes the sensors and the digital coordinate readout begins to display sets of rapidly changing numbers: a random sampling of the Ebony Skulker's swiftly changing position in hyperspace.

"It's functional, sir."

Vice-Admiral Joshua Ragellon cocks his head to the large view port at the front of the bridge. "Dock the Vi-Scout, then follow that ship."

Far below, deep within the Eighth Planet, the TechnoMass Imploder(tm) reaches the end of its countdown and does what it does best. The concussion wave buffets the Vi-Scout(tm) as it enters the docking bay of the Annihilator. A large portion of the Eighth Planet is recklessly tossed into its atmosphere.