Shaken, Not Stirred 33

Previous / Next?

[Unit 007]

I was fortunate that our passengers didn't recognize my design. Apparently, the empire that built me never reached them, and the Catholic Church hadn't brutalized them or served as an excuse for colonization in the ways it had on Terra. Sam texted me some more data on our other crewmates, but despite momentarily bluescreening on Dr. Morrison's image...

I helped all all our passengers aboard, even giving my hand to those who seemed unsteady, apologizing for its metallic coldness, and trying to comfort children leaving the only planet they'd ever called home.

Some even put trust in my monk's attire, as if that guaranteed some degree of virtue. A few even called me "Father...?" and I had to tell them I wasn't a priest.

When I was done helping them all into berths and (hopefully) reassuring them, after a short tour of the ship, I walked back out to the spaceport and was greeted by Sam and ...I'd only requested five or six extra crew members, because I could stay awake 24/7 with a power source, and despite being a rustbucket, this ship's fusion plant was fully functional (I had confirmed this with the local mechanics and inspectors), but Sam...

I don't get headaches. But he had fif-fucking-teen interstellar sailors in various states of sobriety.

"Alright," he yelled at them, "meet our Boatswain! Bosun! Whatever you want to call the post!" he said, gesturing at me, "he's the guy you'll be working under!", and I slowly took off my belt, and then quickly shrugged off my robes. While I had considered my appearance a potential problem for the passengers, the sailors needed to know what and who I was.

As a couple of them ran and some of them froze in fear, I realized Sam had actually been a genius: we might only need five or six, and that meant two-thirds of the fifteen he'd gathered could bail out right now.

"I am Unit 007," I said, "I am no longer in the service of the Empire that built me, and I take James Bond jokes about my name pretty well, IF THEY DON'T IMPACT RUNNING THE SHIP", and I let my eyes go red for that last bit, "Our 'cargo' is mostly sex slaves and their children that we managed to rescue from a local brothel, and are trying to take to better lives, our helmsman is an insane rabbit, there are a giant tiger with anger issues and an actively insane aug'd-to-Hell human woman roaming through the ships' corridors. Technically, she's the ship's Doctor, and I have seen her save lives. So how sure are you that you want to get on this ship?"

My time with the monks hadn't really had much of an impact on how I interacted with organics: this was all the naked truth. A few more ran. But a lot more than that stepped up to the plate and said they'd be happy to work with me.

"Better than the last ship I was on," one of them muttered, shaking my hand, and I had to wonder what the Hell that ship was like.

"You have an hour, or less, to familiarize yourselves with the ship," I said, and Sam nodded - we needed to get off this planet fast, "and close and dog all the bulkhead doors ahead of the inhabited portions of the vessel! Do I make myself clear?"

"Yessir!" I got back from ...well damn, we still had eight starsailors willing to do this.

"I'll help, of course," I told them.

"And I'll make sure nobody's in the fore section," Sam said, getting on his radio and yelling vehemently at his other assets to clear the fore section and get everyone out of there.

I should have known what that meant. Sometimes it doesn't matter how many gigabytes of data you can slam through your head in a fraction of a second, or what you know about the helmsman, or the orders you're giving.

[Some Time Passes]

[The White Rabbit]

"I am the deadliest sonuvabitch in this gravity well," I said to nobody in particular, "even if I'm piloting a rustbucket."

"Prepare for ramming speed on my command," I told the engineering crew and the starsailor who'd been stationed on the bridge with me.

"So that's why we were ordered to close all the bulkhead doors in the front of the ship," he said.

"Our only weapon is sheer mass and speed," I said, "and I will wield that weapon like a sword I pulled out of a stone."

"You know that legend too?" he asked me, "sir. I simply hadn't expected it to have made it across the galaxy."

"Let's hope we meet a better fate than that legend's protagonist!" I said, carefully pulling away from the dock, "prepare damage control teams and warn our medical staff. Try not to panic the passengers. If we're very, very lucky, nobody will contest us exiting this system, and we should be fine once we hit warp."

The other starsailor on the bridge started making a lot of calls on the ship's intercom. I just hoped they didn't start some kind of mass panic, and were unnecessary. But my genes were screaming at me that it was better to be overprepared than caught with your pants around your ankles.

And I am the deadliest sonuvabitch in this gravity well - even in a rustbucket with no weapons. I could split any fighter in half with this giant ship with a sideswipe, let alone a full-on ram. But, for the moment, I needed to focus on leaving the spaceport.