The Saffron Malformation (107 page)

             
“Well it worked,” Quey said as he took another sip.  “Because this shit is fucking delicious!”

             
Everyone laughed and a ‘cheers’ preceded another sip.

             
“We really should check on Arnie,” Natalie said.  “I feel bad for him.”

             
Rachel agreed but Quey said “Leave him be.  Been a lot asked of him as of late and he’s earned his share of time.” He looked to Rachel and said, “Boy needs time more than the likes of us right now.”

             
She agreed to that with a sigh and a nod and dinner went on.  Every one of them had it in the back of their minds that things were going to get tough on that ship sooner or later.  There was also the matter of what would happen should anything go wrong.  If that happened they’d be on the drift with nothing for as far as they could see and nothing but guesses as to how they might fix this thing.

             
For the next few hours they set all that aside and ate a feast Rachel had prepared with the help of Natalie and Amber, and drank the wine that was supposed to toast the demise of Saffron.  In a strange way, it was still doing that.

             
Whatever may lie ahead, Quey was grateful for that bit of time.  He was grateful for the food in his belly and the wine that accompanied it.  He was grateful for the friends that surrounded him.  Every once in a while he’d think of the vast nothingness surrounding him, just a cluster of meters in any direction.

             
Later, when everything wound down he made his way to the bridge of the ship they’d decided to name The Acid Raindrop and stared out at space.  The scope of his new landscape fluttered in his belly and had a sobering effect on his mind.  He’d seen something amazing and he’d done something right.

             
“What are you doing?” Ryla asked as she stepped in behind him.  She’d joined them at dinner eagerly, which surprised him, and even seemed a bit excited to taste the food.  She’d also drained her fair share of the wine, Quey had noticed, and seemed more at ease than he’d ever seen her, save a time or two when he came upon her and Rain together.

             
“Thinking,” he replied softly.

             
“Thinking what?” she inquired, allowing herself to be curious about someone that way.

             
He smiled slyly and answered.  “That it’s been a good run.”  He turned to her and added, “And that I mean to have another.”

             
She smiled at him and before she could think that she shouldn’t, she kissed him. He pulled back slightly and tried to speak but she wouldn’t let him. They’d both said and heard it before.  It was better if they didn’t do it again.  Maybe that was true.  Still…

             
“Just once more,” she said, stepping close, touching her body to his.  Still, she wanted him because he felt good and she liked the way he looked at her, and the way he touched her.  She greatly desired those things at the moment, and her feelings were important, not an annoyance that got in the way of clear thought.  Not something she should dull with the help of her implants, but something she should recognize and accept.  She was working on it, and doing so without the help of a book.

             
He noted how good she looked in the snug little violet cocktail dress she’d found, and felt how soft and delicate she was as she stepped close to him.  Then she started to dance in a slow soft rhythm that reminded him of how sexy she was, and it seemed new, as if he’d never seen it before.  She smelled like a meadow in the spring and that was exciting too.

             
It was true she didn’t love him the way a normal girl could, but she did enjoy him and that wasn’t nothing.  And he seemed to enjoy her as well.

             
She gave her dance a more erotic flare, and noticed his eyes as he scanned her hips and cleavage.  “What do you say?” she asked him before she threw her arms around his neck and brought her face close to his.  When his arms slipped around her waist she felt a rush of excitement.  “You want to?” She finished with a kiss he eagerly returned as he squeezed her tight against him.  After a tick and a tock she looked up and met his eyes.  He was looking at her in that way that she liked.

             
“You should know that you’re not the only one.”

             
He peered at her with a questioning brow.

             
She shrugged, “During our travels I got curious.”  It was true enough.

             
He nodded.

             
“I’ll probably get curious again.”  Their eyes met for a long time.  “You still want to?”

             
He shook his head, but then he kissed her deeply and slid his hands over her body.  When she took them in hers, he let her lead him from the bridge, yet again allowing himself to think that once more couldn’t hurt.

The Fallout and The Aftermath

             
Render sat in the back of his rig with Eloine at his side.  He was watching the feed streaming over the signal with a smile on his face.  Ordinary people, the good citizens of Saffron, had turned to burning their own cities to the ground.  Rioters smashed windows and forced their way into Blue Moon facilities all around the world.  Today, everyone was a broodling, only their haul wasn’t bits of precious.  They wanted an explanation as to why their favorite shows and games were replaced with this report, and what exactly did it mean anyhow.

             
He went to the front of the truck and jumped out into the broods camp, poorly crafted abodes of wood and sheet metal mostly, and called, “Celebration’s afoot boys.  Three days time there’ll be a FEAST!”  A cheer rang through the crowd and before long drinks were flowing and drugs were passed around.

             
Render meant to head for Saffron City.  He knew other broods around the world would move on other cities, other gangs would show themselves and new ones would form.  Blue Moon didn’t have a hope of holding order any longer.  This was their time now.  The time of the outcasts.  The only places not in the midst of violence were the places it was raining.

             
Later that night Render stumbled back into his truck and collapsed on the bed in the back.  Eloine tapped him a few times but he only groaned slightly and breathed heavy.  If he weren’t so thin he’d be snoring for sure.  She went to the front of the cab and peered out at the camp.  It was dangerous to do here but there’d be no better time.  Groping in the dark she found the Broodleader's boot and drew the knife from the sheath he’d had stitched inside.

             
A light clicked on and a gun cocked.  Her eyes gaped at Render, sitting up on his elbow with a pistol aimed.  “Had a feeling you were up to something.”

             
She looked down at the knife in her hands.

             
“Just what do you mean to do with that?” he asked her.

             
She swallowed hard.  “I thought,” she stuttered.

             
“You thought I was fucked up and passed out and easy to kill.”

             
She shook her head but the rest of her, including the knife in her hand, betrayed her.

             
He looked at her with a sly little smirk and said, “You sobered me up.  Recall?” he asked, flaring his brow.

             
She nodded.

             
He watched her, pondering for a moment.

             
“Please.”  It escaped her lips without her meaning it too.

             
He peered at her.  “You know what kind of world you’re about to find yourself in?” he asked her.

             
She blinked at him.

             
“You seen the news?  You think I’m a monster you just wait.  Still, I do like you,” he admitted with a sigh.  Then added, “First bitch I wrangled bold enough to tell me about my ass,” with a chuckle.  “Something about a girl who’d go through all you did to endear yourself to me just to lie in wait.  That takes a sort of strength.  Could be the sort that finds you a decent place round here and a handful of respect.  Keep what’s comin from doing worse to you yet.”

             
She nodded and blurted, “I’ll be good.”

             
“Might be that’s true,” he added, looking at her with a suspicious eye.  “Still… I want you to remember that I’ll never trust you.”  He glared at her and assured her, “Next time you find yourself on the business end of my gun it’ll be your last set of ticks.”

             
Eloine swallowed hard and nodded.

             
Render let the hammer fall gently into place and said, “Why don’t you come give me some sugar then.”  She took a deep breath and climbed onto the bed.  “Nothin’ better in the world than a bit of makeup sex,” he said with a smile.

             
Richter Crow’s car passed the line of security watching his house and went through the gate of his estate.  He sat silent as the vehicle rolled down the long driveway, parking near the front door.  He said nothing to the driver as he stepped out and made his way toward the entrance with his shoulders slumped.  He’d sent word for his sons, Gren and Voz, to head home before the worst of it came to a head.  Before the networks linked and the report about his plans for Saffron had come through.  After that there was outrage and rioting.  Any building marked by Blue Moon was a target.

             
The colleges were the worst, young people are always so full of fire and love nothing more than an ideal.  Luckily his boys had gotten out or this madness probably would have torn them apart.  Now he meant to collect them and head for one of the other ships, there were, after all, four others and he’d be damned if his worthless cunt of a daughter and a bunch of hooligans were going to be the end of him.  He would escape.  He would live on.  That’s how he’d win.

             
He opened the front door and stepped inside.  “Gren! Voz!” he called and heard the reply, “In here.”

             
Richter Crow hurried toward the sound and it wasn’t until he entered the living area and saw the blood he realized the voice belonged to Sticklan Stone.

             
Richter’s legs went weak when he saw what the man had done to his sons.  Flesh shredded, bones broken.  One was missing an eyeball and… and he was still gurgling, choking on his own blood.  The other was lying on his belly, twitching, flayed and nearly inside out.

             
“What have you done?” he asked without realizing he’d spoken.  His knees gave out and he collapsed.

             
“What I’ve been waiting decades to do.”

             
Richter looked up at him as he approached.  The blade in his hand was so sharp it shined through the thin layer of blood.  When he slashed it cut quick and clean.  Richter felt the burn across his cheek, then the warm trickle.  He touched it with his hand and drew away blood.

             
“You can’t do this,” he said, rising to meet the man eye to eye.  “You know who I am, I’ll have you shredded.”

             
Sticklan smiled at him and answered, “But I have.”  He stabbed deep into Richter Crows shoulder and twisted the blade slowly.

             
“I made you.”

             
“No you didn’t.”

             
The blade found him again.  “I found you.  I kept you clear, gave you money,” another slash, this one across his chest.  “I gave you a fucking life,” the man shouted.

             
Richter Crow was so stunned someone in his employ was daring to defy him that he let Sticklan take his hand.  Richter dropped to his knees and cried out as the killer twisted his index finger back.  From the floor Richter looked up at the man and shouted, “You crazy fuck, I bought you.  I own you.”

             
Sticklan Stone smiled down at him and said, “Sticklan Stone will break your bones,” then gave the finger a hard jerk and felt the crack through his grip.  Richter screamed at the agony and looked up just in time to see the man touch his knife to the broken finger.  “No,” he pleaded but Stone began to saw.  Blood drizzled and pooled on the beautiful hard wood floor as Stone worked his way through the finger until finally he twisted it completely off.  Richter Crow fell onto his back and cradled his appendage.  As Stone settled on him he said, “And death will follow after.”  The man finally got what he wanted.  He saw fear and realization in the arrogant prick’s eyes.  All his money and power were worthless against one man with a knife.  He spent the next few hours affirming that.

              “Nobody knows, the trouble I seen,” the voice sang.  “No body knows, but Jesus.  No body knows, the trouble I seen.  Nobody but Jesus.”

             
“Who the fuck is Jesus?”

             
Jacob looked up.  He wasn’t expecting company but here it was, a tall man with short hair and the robot titled Boyfriend.  Movement and hushed voices alerted him that somewhere further back there were others.  Jacob smiled and replied, “Nobody knows.”

             
The man peered at the head resting on the table.  “Who are you then?”

             
“I am a friendly interface, who are you?”

             
“Names Eric Hoss.  Where’s this Jacob character.  Heard he might be dangerous.”

             
“The one called Jacob was freed with the other things below.  They came back when the defense parameters reverted back to ‘guard mode.’  He did not.”

             
“This isn’t him?” Eric asked Boyfriend.

             
“I never met him,” the bot answered.  Then he turned to the head and said, “He wants access.  Said if I didn’t take him to something that could help he’d put a bullet to me.”

             
“Well then it’s your lucky day,” Jacob smiled.  “Because it’s my function to be helpful.”

             
Eric nodded.

             
“Sadly I can’t at the moment because my body was taken for repairs.  In all the commotion Ryla forgot to bring it back to me.  It’s right down the hall though, and if you were to bring it to me I’d be more than happy to be helpful to you.”

             
Eric looked at the bot suspiciously.  “Why would you do that?”

             
“It’s my function.  Lucky for you there’s an oversight in my parameters and they don’t specify me not being helpful to strangers.”

             
Eric pondered the head’s words for a spell.

             
“Down the hall?” Eric asked and looked toward the corridor.

             
“Yes.  Right hand corridor, second door on the left.”

             
Eric nodded behind him and figures hurried to find the body.

             
“You sure this is a good idea?” one of Eric’s men asked.

             
Eric looked at the head and replied with a shrug, “Seems harmless enough.  Besides, I didn’t go through all this shit not to get my hands on that crazy bitches tech.”

             
When the group of men entered the room carrying the robot body they’d found—a heavy thing constructed out of an alloy they didn’t recognize—and complaining about the weight, Jacob smiled and nearly laughed.  Nobody knew the trouble they’d see.  Not a single one.