The Stainless Steel Metroid
Posted: 2008-08-17 07:47pm
Written largely to get the idea out of my head. It was either this or another group of bounty hunters, but "The Stainless Steel Rat Sings the Blues" already exists. With the storyline for this thing, I'm having more trouble deciding between "The Stainless Steel Metroid" or "The Stainless Steel Rat Fights the Metroids."
It'll be said later, but I figure I should mention this now: This takes place after The Stainless Steel Rat For President. And yes, there will be creepy crawlies and things that go bump in the night. There may also be mind-raping, but I doubt it.
Introduction
In time, after the destruction of the Biologic Space Laboratories, the destruction of SR388, and the extinction of the X, I came to a second conclusion: They billed me for the new ship.
The testimony of the doctors who saved my life, along with the mission reports of both Adam and myself, saved me from an invoice for the entire station, and possibly the planet as well. I imagine, somewhere, Admiral Dane, the man behind thePhazon Enhancement Suits, the man who had so graciously ordered modifications to my suit while I was comatose inside it, had used his leverage as "Destroyer of the Space Pirate Menace" to have me billed for the ship that was given to me in exchange for this job.
Because I had saved him from the X. I had saved him from a monster even worse than the Space Pirates, one that was without mercy and malice, a homogenizing swarm that would wipe out all life, making it into itself. And because I'd helped blow up his metroid breeding program. I think that was the big thing, there.
Ships are not cheap. I know this, because I have been forced to purchase several. Bounty hunting is hard on a ship, and it's possible to red-line engines, crash into atmospheres, and plow through heavy weapons fire only so many times before a space frame gets sent to the graveyard. Generally, I can recoup some of the costs from a ship corpse, especially with the ones I buy. I auctioned one off to fans, once, and that more than paid for a new one. But then I was still in themilitary's good graces, and could get them on the cheap.
I also had money, then.
I still do have money. Just not very much.
"Adam, use my license to check the police nets. We need a bounty."
"Within range, we've got around one hundred and fifteen separate bounties. There's only one that's going to make the trip worth it."
"Let's see it." The screen gave me two faces, side-by-side. Names were underneath them. I didn't need to look. All bounty hunters recognize the man's face, and all good bounty hunters recognize both.
"Are you sure there isn't anything else?"
"Nothing that pays enough, Lady."
I was quiet for a moment. Nothing but the hum of the ship around me, and the slow snoring of Etecoons and a Dachora behind me. I was hoping to give them to the Luminoth of Aether, as my life wouldn't be good for their health... but there wasn't enough fuel to reach Aether.
"What about multiple bounties on a single planet?"
"None of them even share star systems."
Staring at a screen uses fuel gel, a substance I was had precious little of at the moment.
"Set a course and give me local politics. These two pick the planets they run to."
Chapter 1
I stared at the desolate shelving with annoyance on my face and glee in my heart. I and my wife, who was looking at a likewise desolate shelf three aisles away, were late shoppers on what retailers liked to call "Orange Swivensday," for the color of the local currency. Every person who did not have one eye on a profit margin and another on a consumer's wallet called this fine day "Black Swivensday."
I, in one of my many reveries into the murky depths of records and time, looked into the history of the very phrase itself. Ancient wisdom declares that one must know thine enemy, and I know this one well. Another "Sales Associate," her name stamped in crisp red letters to be "Nicole," stepped into my aisle.
"Can I help you find anything?"
"No, you're probably out of it," I reply with a drained voice. "I'll just pick through the rubble."
Nicole smiled, and continued onwards. The perky voice of my lovely wife carried over the shelving, stating she was quite alright.
Black Swivensday, primitive belief held it, was the first day many retailers actually turned a profit. Thus, it was called "Black" for the company finally went "into the black."
This is lunacy.
No company could ever fail to turn a profit three quarters out of a year unless it was backed or owned by the government. Any company that had this business model would never find money. Business ventures require careful planning in order to succeed. Whether that venture is legal or not, is another matter entirely. My own business venture had quite a bit of careful planning, as all of my ventures have, and it has been sound planning. For example, there is a reason I am carrying a .75 recoilless under my coat, and likewise my darling wife is carrying a sawed-off shotgun under her shawl. Likewise, there is a reason we are both waiting for the store to close. I continued on to the next aisle with a grocery bag from next door dragging at my shoulder. It contained another important part of my plan, likewise did the truck we had stolen and modified for this plan.
"Attention shoppers, the time is now ten o'clock, and we are now closed for the evening. Please proceed to the front, where our cashiers will be happy to ring out your purchases. Thank you, and have a nice evening."
The building was empty except for the associates as my darling wife and I walked up to the customer service desk, the last customers having walked out the doors.
I cheerfully greeted the employee at the service desk, and requested both the money in the register and access to the store's safe. She frowned, at which point I pulled out my .75 and my loving wife pulled out her shotgun. She tapped a few keys on her register, popping open the draw before moving on to the next one. She motioned for the other cashiers to go back into the store, and moved through the few registers still active and dropped the draw on the counter. The remaining registers, it was plain to see, had already been counted, their contents moved to the safe. I reminded the employee that I wished to see the safe as well, and she led me into their money room.
All safes have a set of given truths. Unless you know exactly what you're dealing with, there is no easy and simple way to open one. Explosives will burn the contents and cutting through them requires either time or more money than can be held in the safe. Thus comes the second defense in theft of it's contents: having a large and heavy safe, to prevent it from being moved except by truck. We have a truck. It was, quite unexpectedly, provided to us by our previous employers, pre-modified for our own benefit.
I attached a pair of very large and specialized electro-magnets to the front of the safe, and hit the button that moves the truck into position. A small radio behind my ear informs me that the police have been contacted, are enroute, and will arrive in seven minutes due to traffic. Myself and the associate step out of the cash room, and I press the second button. There is a thunderous crash in the cash room. The employee re-opened the door to the room, and she stared at the gaping hole in the wall, the safe sitting in the opened back of our truck, my darling wife waving from the driver's seat. I step out through the hole, waving to the employee, still standing and staring, and remind her to have a good evening. I slap shut the doors to the truck, and step into the passenger seat.
The radio chirps again, reminding me I have another four minutes before the police arrive.
"Shall we?" I ask Angelina.
"We shall," she replies, gunning the engine. Out and out armed robbery was not something we committed fairly regularly, but this place was an exception. By and large, the place was a corporate paradise, and they paid their security firms good money to keep their sections that way. The rest of the planet, however... the rest of the planet was left to its own devices, shall we say. Such was the way of Hive Worlds, especially in the fringe. Eitherway, this planet had a lot of money, a lot of robbery insurance, and a halfway decent police.
"Police diverted to intercept. ETA 5 minutes," chirped the radio in my ear as Angelina turned down a ramp into the lower depths of the city. The roads were empty as all cars were required by law to carry a warning light, saying the police were in the area, and that they needed to pull over.
"Police ETA to intercept 3 minutes," chirped the radio once more. I tapped a few commands into the dashboard's computer, diverting the police radio directly into my earpiece.
"-get is still enroute, following course 48 towards intercept 7. Over" Gruff, male. Ex-military from how he spoke, enunciating everything but talking fast enough to make it just before unintelligable. I had dealt with this type before. He had placed me into a box, and I needed to step out of it, to keep him off guard.
"Let's get evasive, darling. As much as we don't want a high speed chase, we simply must begin one."
The voice kept its even tone. "Target has begun evasive maneuvers. Over"
A different voice, now. Still male, but more police than military. "Hammer, are you inpursuit? Over."
A woman, this time. "ETA 1 minute, Over."
Think fast, diGriz, they're almost on you. They're police. If there's a Hammer, then there's also an Anvil. The Anvil was intercept 7, Hammer, must, then, be behind us. I touched the dash again, showing the empty road behind us. I could see everything just fine with the lights hanging from the concrete ceiling above us, let alone the radar unit built into the rear bumper.
"Hammer in position and target in intercept 7. Do we have force confirmation?" said the Ex-military. Force confirmation?
"What's a force confirmation?" I spoke aloud.
Angelina suddenly hit the brakes and slammed us into reverse.
"Force is confirmed. Repeat, force is confirmed. Happy hunting, Hammer."
"Bounty Hunter," my darling and I spoke together. And then the roof exploded.
It'll be said later, but I figure I should mention this now: This takes place after The Stainless Steel Rat For President. And yes, there will be creepy crawlies and things that go bump in the night. There may also be mind-raping, but I doubt it.
Introduction
In time, after the destruction of the Biologic Space Laboratories, the destruction of SR388, and the extinction of the X, I came to a second conclusion: They billed me for the new ship.
The testimony of the doctors who saved my life, along with the mission reports of both Adam and myself, saved me from an invoice for the entire station, and possibly the planet as well. I imagine, somewhere, Admiral Dane, the man behind thePhazon Enhancement Suits, the man who had so graciously ordered modifications to my suit while I was comatose inside it, had used his leverage as "Destroyer of the Space Pirate Menace" to have me billed for the ship that was given to me in exchange for this job.
Because I had saved him from the X. I had saved him from a monster even worse than the Space Pirates, one that was without mercy and malice, a homogenizing swarm that would wipe out all life, making it into itself. And because I'd helped blow up his metroid breeding program. I think that was the big thing, there.
Ships are not cheap. I know this, because I have been forced to purchase several. Bounty hunting is hard on a ship, and it's possible to red-line engines, crash into atmospheres, and plow through heavy weapons fire only so many times before a space frame gets sent to the graveyard. Generally, I can recoup some of the costs from a ship corpse, especially with the ones I buy. I auctioned one off to fans, once, and that more than paid for a new one. But then I was still in themilitary's good graces, and could get them on the cheap.
I also had money, then.
I still do have money. Just not very much.
"Adam, use my license to check the police nets. We need a bounty."
"Within range, we've got around one hundred and fifteen separate bounties. There's only one that's going to make the trip worth it."
"Let's see it." The screen gave me two faces, side-by-side. Names were underneath them. I didn't need to look. All bounty hunters recognize the man's face, and all good bounty hunters recognize both.
"Are you sure there isn't anything else?"
"Nothing that pays enough, Lady."
I was quiet for a moment. Nothing but the hum of the ship around me, and the slow snoring of Etecoons and a Dachora behind me. I was hoping to give them to the Luminoth of Aether, as my life wouldn't be good for their health... but there wasn't enough fuel to reach Aether.
"What about multiple bounties on a single planet?"
"None of them even share star systems."
Staring at a screen uses fuel gel, a substance I was had precious little of at the moment.
"Set a course and give me local politics. These two pick the planets they run to."
Chapter 1
I stared at the desolate shelving with annoyance on my face and glee in my heart. I and my wife, who was looking at a likewise desolate shelf three aisles away, were late shoppers on what retailers liked to call "Orange Swivensday," for the color of the local currency. Every person who did not have one eye on a profit margin and another on a consumer's wallet called this fine day "Black Swivensday."
I, in one of my many reveries into the murky depths of records and time, looked into the history of the very phrase itself. Ancient wisdom declares that one must know thine enemy, and I know this one well. Another "Sales Associate," her name stamped in crisp red letters to be "Nicole," stepped into my aisle.
"Can I help you find anything?"
"No, you're probably out of it," I reply with a drained voice. "I'll just pick through the rubble."
Nicole smiled, and continued onwards. The perky voice of my lovely wife carried over the shelving, stating she was quite alright.
Black Swivensday, primitive belief held it, was the first day many retailers actually turned a profit. Thus, it was called "Black" for the company finally went "into the black."
This is lunacy.
No company could ever fail to turn a profit three quarters out of a year unless it was backed or owned by the government. Any company that had this business model would never find money. Business ventures require careful planning in order to succeed. Whether that venture is legal or not, is another matter entirely. My own business venture had quite a bit of careful planning, as all of my ventures have, and it has been sound planning. For example, there is a reason I am carrying a .75 recoilless under my coat, and likewise my darling wife is carrying a sawed-off shotgun under her shawl. Likewise, there is a reason we are both waiting for the store to close. I continued on to the next aisle with a grocery bag from next door dragging at my shoulder. It contained another important part of my plan, likewise did the truck we had stolen and modified for this plan.
"Attention shoppers, the time is now ten o'clock, and we are now closed for the evening. Please proceed to the front, where our cashiers will be happy to ring out your purchases. Thank you, and have a nice evening."
The building was empty except for the associates as my darling wife and I walked up to the customer service desk, the last customers having walked out the doors.
I cheerfully greeted the employee at the service desk, and requested both the money in the register and access to the store's safe. She frowned, at which point I pulled out my .75 and my loving wife pulled out her shotgun. She tapped a few keys on her register, popping open the draw before moving on to the next one. She motioned for the other cashiers to go back into the store, and moved through the few registers still active and dropped the draw on the counter. The remaining registers, it was plain to see, had already been counted, their contents moved to the safe. I reminded the employee that I wished to see the safe as well, and she led me into their money room.
All safes have a set of given truths. Unless you know exactly what you're dealing with, there is no easy and simple way to open one. Explosives will burn the contents and cutting through them requires either time or more money than can be held in the safe. Thus comes the second defense in theft of it's contents: having a large and heavy safe, to prevent it from being moved except by truck. We have a truck. It was, quite unexpectedly, provided to us by our previous employers, pre-modified for our own benefit.
I attached a pair of very large and specialized electro-magnets to the front of the safe, and hit the button that moves the truck into position. A small radio behind my ear informs me that the police have been contacted, are enroute, and will arrive in seven minutes due to traffic. Myself and the associate step out of the cash room, and I press the second button. There is a thunderous crash in the cash room. The employee re-opened the door to the room, and she stared at the gaping hole in the wall, the safe sitting in the opened back of our truck, my darling wife waving from the driver's seat. I step out through the hole, waving to the employee, still standing and staring, and remind her to have a good evening. I slap shut the doors to the truck, and step into the passenger seat.
The radio chirps again, reminding me I have another four minutes before the police arrive.
"Shall we?" I ask Angelina.
"We shall," she replies, gunning the engine. Out and out armed robbery was not something we committed fairly regularly, but this place was an exception. By and large, the place was a corporate paradise, and they paid their security firms good money to keep their sections that way. The rest of the planet, however... the rest of the planet was left to its own devices, shall we say. Such was the way of Hive Worlds, especially in the fringe. Eitherway, this planet had a lot of money, a lot of robbery insurance, and a halfway decent police.
"Police diverted to intercept. ETA 5 minutes," chirped the radio in my ear as Angelina turned down a ramp into the lower depths of the city. The roads were empty as all cars were required by law to carry a warning light, saying the police were in the area, and that they needed to pull over.
"Police ETA to intercept 3 minutes," chirped the radio once more. I tapped a few commands into the dashboard's computer, diverting the police radio directly into my earpiece.
"-get is still enroute, following course 48 towards intercept 7. Over" Gruff, male. Ex-military from how he spoke, enunciating everything but talking fast enough to make it just before unintelligable. I had dealt with this type before. He had placed me into a box, and I needed to step out of it, to keep him off guard.
"Let's get evasive, darling. As much as we don't want a high speed chase, we simply must begin one."
The voice kept its even tone. "Target has begun evasive maneuvers. Over"
A different voice, now. Still male, but more police than military. "Hammer, are you inpursuit? Over."
A woman, this time. "ETA 1 minute, Over."
Think fast, diGriz, they're almost on you. They're police. If there's a Hammer, then there's also an Anvil. The Anvil was intercept 7, Hammer, must, then, be behind us. I touched the dash again, showing the empty road behind us. I could see everything just fine with the lights hanging from the concrete ceiling above us, let alone the radar unit built into the rear bumper.
"Hammer in position and target in intercept 7. Do we have force confirmation?" said the Ex-military. Force confirmation?
"What's a force confirmation?" I spoke aloud.
Angelina suddenly hit the brakes and slammed us into reverse.
"Force is confirmed. Repeat, force is confirmed. Happy hunting, Hammer."
"Bounty Hunter," my darling and I spoke together. And then the roof exploded.
. Stainless steel rat...Well, I read the prequel at least 
. (And those froma used bookshop, they don't sell the books here in desertland)