RIP Carrie Fisher

One wise, witty and beautiful lady. She lived life to the limit and then some. She'll be missed.

Rogue One Review

Meh.

Story felt fragmented. Never connected to the characters. People pop up the instant the plot requires in ways so blatantly artificial it pulls you out of the narrative, same as Grand Moff Tarkin. Stormtroopers flood into frame to be shot down like ten pins. The action scenes lacked emotional investment and went on way too long.

The whole thing just felt off.

Wrong.

Cobbled together out of executive notes.

But it did look amazing.

Some of the early scenes were beyond stunning. Breathtaking vistas and having a magnificent sense of scale was definitely a plus for the film.

Not sure what else to say about it.

Chapter 20: Magnum Thrax

(NOTE: I forgot I'd put this into Blogger, way back. Enjoy, you Web Bots!)

Thrax raced through the rows of clothes and elegant displays featuring neck-snappingly beautiful animatronic figures towards his beseiged friend. The swarm of undead were all around him now.

More figures began to shamble up the escalators, male ones, dressed in sharply cut suits or mall security garb.

Firing as he ran, Thrax blasted five mummizombies into oblivion, dousing Kal in billowing snuff dust.

More of the dead turned to face him.

A quick jab with a rifle butt separated the nearest’s head from her torso. Limbs grabbed at him. Thrax kicked one in the chest, toppling it backward into the horde, sending them crashing to the floor like glass dominos. Several shattered on impact, heads and arms spinning away across the slippery floor.

The mall security zombies started to move around the fashion mob. They awkwardly unholstered their stunners and fired. The air crackled with electricity, but the bolts went wide. Their coordination was shit.

Thrax ducked behind the slow moving fashion mob, using them for cover, popping up to take shots, obliterating mall cop after lumbering undead mall cop.

“What are you doing!?” screamed Kal, still held fast. “Get them off me!”

A head exploded onto his face from the left.

Ghatz pulled back his brown dust coated rifle butt.

“Working on it.” He stepped back and began to swing the weapon like a club, smashing the mumizoms to bits.

“Easy!” Kal cried after an energetic blow by Ghatz barely missed his head.

Thrax charged the escalator, shoving the flailing zombies back down the frozen steps. He pulled out a grenade and tossed it into the mass.

“Fire in the hole!” he yelled, ducking back.

BWAM!

Smoke and flame spewed up out of the stepped chasm. Limbs and heads flew. Dust from disintegrating bodies rolled outward.

The swarm thinned. Thrax smashed the brain casing of the last zombie holding Kal in from behind. Its body fell away, leaving only half a dozen disembodied hands still clutching on to Kal.

He started to rip them off.

“Gross, gross, gross!” he cried, dancing about in disgust. He tossed the hands away as if they had cooties.

“Don’t be such a damn baby,” huffed Thrax. “Cripes, dude!” He peered down into the smoke roiling in the escalator cavity. Fired a few casual shots in. Paused. Unclipped another grenade and tossed it down.

“Better safe than—” BAM!

“—sorry,” he concluded dryly. He looked about at the once again quiescent corpses. “Hey Kal. What was that about?”

“Synvirus, I imagine,” said Kal. “Probably infected during the collapse.” “They went shopping during the fall of civilization?” asked Ghatz, incredulous.

“Last chance,” mused Kal. “If the ancients loved anything, they loved to shop. There was once a disease called ‘Shopaholism’. Kept these obsolete malls around to keep the ritual alive. Real question is what they wanted. The undead shoppers. Didn’t seem interested in actually killing me. One sec.” He ran a virus scan on his trillion synapse connectome and artificial glia clusters. “Yet I don’t seem to have been infected with anything according to my back up brains. Nothing detectable, at any rate.”

Ghatz reached behind him and yanked a hand off his jacket, chucked it down the hole. “Doors at the far end. Big black shield curtain. Sealed.”

“To the main concourse,” he nodded, then paused. Looked about. “Where’d she go?”

“Who go?”

“The girl.”

“What girl?” asked Ghatz, exasperated.

“Didn’t you see her?”

Thrax gave Ghatz a look. “See... who?”

“You aren’t used to combat, prole,” asserted Ghatz. “You imagined it in a state of panic.” Kal shook his head, waving them away.

“Nevermind,” he said, and stumbled down into the fountain pool. He sloshed over to the limo’s passenger doors. “Something’s wrong. The androids should have recovered by now.”

“I still want to know who this girl is,” teased Thrax, loitering by the smoking escalator. “Was she all shriveled?”

“Funny guy,” muttered Kal, unlatching the door and swinging it open. He gazed inside and his eyes went wide. “Holy...!”

“What?” said Ghatz, alarmed.

They raced over, expecting the worst.

Peering in, their jaws went slack.

“Oh wow,” gasped Ghatz.

“For love of The Benefactor,” swore Thrax, lowering his weapon. “That’s enough you lot! Out you get.”

There was a commotion inside.

“Wait!” he shouted, holding up a hand. “Get your clothes on first! This is a combat environment.”

“How long have you been awake?” demanded Ghatz crossly. “Um... Since you got out,” said a voice from within. “Jasmine started it.”
“It was Sable.”

“Excuse me!? That, that’s just, it’s... it’s an outright, slanderous lie! A complete fabrication, from where I don’t know.”

Thrax slung his rifle and threw up his hands. “Goddamn sexbots. We could have used your help out here.”

“Sorry. One thing kinda led to another and...” “Just get out.”

The squad clambered sheepishly into the aquamarine fountain pool. The ash had already been filtered out. The water was now pristine. Drinkable.

“The least they could have done is let us watch,” groused Kal.

Jasmine leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek.

Sable flushed beet red and glowered.

“Hey,” said Kal, cheering up, “We could have a break, together. You know, to break the sexual tension as it were.”

“Out of the question,” said Ghatz firmly, “Sexual frustration keeps us on game. Every star athlete knows this. Let’s bring our A-game, people.”

Just the sort of prim prick thing Thrax expected from Ghatz. “He’s got a point.” “That’s entirely unsubstantiated. Numerous scientific studies—”

Thrax clapped his hands. The discussion was of no interest. “Arm up from the trunk. There are grenades. We’ve got a missing driver to locate, and the megamall’s hostile. No more horsing around.”

“Oh my God!” shrieked Candy, drawing alarmed eyes. She tottered over to a pile of dust and dresses. “Is that a Louis Vachon original?!?”

Even Jez’s eyes lit up.

“We’ll never get them out of here now,” said Thrax wearily.

“Best bet’s the stairway,” said Ghatz. “That shield curtain hasn’t moved in eons, everything else is locked.”

“Right. We’ll go in five. Jasmine, you’re on point.” “Aw. Buzz. Kill. Way unfair. Kitty’s the stealth expert.” “Oh. No. Don’t you put it on me, girl.”

“I said Jasmine. Do it.” She hefted her rifle.

**** 

Jasmine rounded the corner of a display plinth and swept the aisle ahead with her multi- spectrum gunsight. “Clear.”

Thrax followed closely after her, clutching his weapon like a protective talisman.

The squad moved along a tattered carpet lined with ceramic sensory deprivation tanks covered in flaking gold filaments. Beyond lay a sea of metal lumps, the remains of deluxe appliances set atop granite and marble displays. Many had been deliberately smashed and toppled.

“What a mess,” sniffed Thumper with disdain. “Look at all the dust. No telling how many microbes and viruses are slathered over the surfaces here.” She slung her rifle and slithered on a fresh pair of latex gloves, then snapped a chalky white facemask in place. “Place is a dump.”

“Anyone see ‘Electronics’?” Kal asked.

“Um, I think we’re in ‘Housewares,’“ replied Sable, craning her neck. “Yes. Housewares.” She skittered up beside Kal, slipping between him and Jasmine.

Kal shook his head. “Ladies, I need some zinc packets. Let me know if you see zinc. They should be conveniently labeled.”

“Look for it after.” Thrax grimaced and wiped dust from his face. “This is a combat patrol. Keep quiet. Subvocal communications only.”

Sable tapped her ear implant. “Uh, Mr. Thrax, my comm gear doesn’t seem to be working.”

“Mine either,” said Candy.

“Some kind of interference. Or infection. Hand signals then. Keep moving”

The lower level was in a state of extremely poor repair. It had been mostly stripped of micromainentance bots, and now the floor was coated inch deep in dust and debris. Sections of the ceiling had fallen in. Despite the ruin, small blocks of still protected pristine systems continued to function perfectly, including lights, which cast out comforting rays. The air was filled with drifting flecks of white dust.

And there were signs of conflict.

“Damn, smells worse than a thousand ton snail squid left out in the sun for a week down here,” whispered Kitty, stalking cautiously forward.

At the foot of the sixty meter escalator, framed by bone dry waterfalls and marble nymphs, a wide barricade stood: formed from damaged merchandise, burnt desks, toppled columns, and crowd control barricades. Paramilitary stun wire had been strung in a great circle, enclosing it. At the center of the protective circle was an inert portable fusion reactor, tied by heavy insulated cables to a pylon mounted fear generator and a dozen deteriorating Holy Grails, Active Denial Systems with microwave panels arrayed outward. Wires were wrapped in and around the barrier. Piled against it were stacks of bones, humanoid but definitely not human, mixed with armour, weapons, golf clubs, and baseball bats. Powerful limbs, claws, tails, huge jaws. Not symmetrical, lots of variation, deviation. Mutation. They had used improvised armour and weapons. Thrax noticed their small brain casings.

It creeped Thrax out. Thousands of them piled up high on the barricades, electrocuted, fried, half-vaporized, charred without any apparent concern for their own lives. What drove them? What were they after? Suits? “What the hell were they?” he whispered to Kal. “Back there?”

Kal gave him a puzzled look, glanced back. “What, the bone stacks? I told you. Anarchons. People infected by anti-consumerist nanogenes. Still alive, as opposed to the more primitive, undead nihilist nanozombies. Those are hack work. Seriously. Really artless. These, now these are cool. A new species born of revolution. Use hox genes to stimulate latent DNA, turning infected into prehistoric horrors, their brains truncated to prevent influence by pacificators. Kill anyone with a shopping bag. Coolest trick is they’re actually tapped into credit rankings and bank accounts, so they can prioritize the richest targets. Weaponized anti-consumers. Mostly snagged the poor, who couldn’t afford better immune systems. Poor neighbourhood equals instant army, wherever you dump a load of specialized black goo. Impressive code-wise, in my humble opinion. Coder really knew his stuff. But don’t worry. Nothing for them to eat down here, by the look of it. Unless there are underground sewage tanks. Be long gone and—”

“Sssh!” Thrax pointed ahead. Something was up.

Jasmine came upon a dozen barrels, toppled on their sides. Thick black stains streaked out from them across the floor, and were smeared from north to south. They did not collect dust, seemed to absorb it.

“Don’t step on it,” advised Kal. “Barrier. Might still be active.” “It’s a deterrent barrier,” said Sable.
“Yeah, that’s what I said.”

Beyond, the furniture and merchandise thinned out. Half tonne counters lay crushed and smashed. Three foot wide gouges had been cut into the marble flooring, forming chaotic crisscross patterns.

He wasn’t hopeful about finding Sang.

Not alive, at any rate.

Not down here.

How hard could it be to drive a limousine, he wondered. The clock was ticking. The synvirus lurking in his bloodstream would reduce him to goo in seven days.

Jasmine, now wearing a sleek black sheath evening dress, held up her right fist in the air and froze. The rest of the squad stopped in place. Ahead was a great rent in the floor, five meters across. Snapped rebars, pipes, and wires lined the edge like ragged fur.

Thrax looked down into the darkness below. It smelled of mould and stagnant waters. Ghatz and Kal came up beside him. The air was dank.

“Hell of a hole,” whispered Thrax. “Explosion?”

“Perhaps,” said Kal. “It blew upwards. There’s debris, chunks of concrete around. Damage. But no scorch marks, no melted metal. So... no. More likely something big smashed its way in here.”

“Something that can chew its way through three feet of diamacrete,” said Ghatz, looking nervous. He bent down and ran his fingers along the shattered edge of the thick floor.

“Yeah. Oh, my God. I know. I know what it was!” declared Kal happily. “Giant, mutated recycling nematodes! Those babies are remarkable feats of genetic engineering and nano- enhancement. They’d fit the size of the hole, and photo reference in my connectome.”

“Nematode’s a worm, isn’t it?” asked Sable rhetorically.

“I don’t like this,” murmured Candy. She’d donned a magnificent white wedding dress that shone in the dim light, illuminating those around her.

“Quiet!” hissed Jez, angrily. “Take that off. That ludicrous dress is making you an obvious target... On second thought, never mind. We need a canary for our coal mine.”

Kal kept talking: “Incredibly powerful, immune to toxins, radiation, you name it. The Benefactors bred them for waste disposal and land reclamation, saturated them with deconstructors, then unleashed them into dumps. Landfills. Radioactive wastelands of the early collapse and reactor glitches. They break down toxins, radioactive isotopes, plastics, everything artificial. But they bred out of control, grew to enormous size. Before authorities even realized what was happening, swarms of them ate whole cities. There’s a great disaster blockbuster based on the loss of Detroit called ‘Wormhole’. So awesome. The babe in it has huge gazongas.”

“There’s another over here,” said Andromeda, who had wandered off to the right. “And more beyond.”

“Khorosho, then,” whistled Thrax softly. “Back we go.”

“Shut down your fusion piles first,” advised Kal. “They’re attracted to radiation signatures. Like catnip.”

“Fuck,” swore Jez. “I’m not shutting down my rifle.”

Thrax nodded agreement. “Me either.” It was a batshit crazy idea. “What should I do if they show up? Throw appliances at them?” he whispered.

“Oh, they’re probably long gone.”

“Then you don’t mind if I keep my weapon primed.”

“Suit yourself. Just don’t stand quite so close to me.”

“Do it,” ordered Ghatz. “All of you. Shut down your weapons. No smoking, either.”

Clicks as pumps were shut off.

Candy threw back her veil and leaned over the edge of the pit. She cupped her hands around her mouth. “Sang?” she called out, “You down there?”

Silence. “Oops!”

Drawn by the declaration, Thrax turned in time to see Jez as she tottered forward, pushing into Candy, who stumbled towards the abyss. Her arms flailed about, panic seized her. Candy opened her mouth to scream but no sound came out. Kal grabbed her arm and swung her round; she grabbed him and pulled herself tight against him.

“Thanks,” she said, kissing him on the cheek. “Thanks.” She buried her head in his chest.

Thrax gave him a supportive tap on the shoulder with his fist, and cast a dark glare at Jez. The others might think that was an accident, but Thrax sure as shit didn’t. He looked over at Kal and Candy.

“Hey, no worries. I always wanted to do that,” Kal said. Kal peeked at Jasmine to see if she noticed his heroic deed, but she was examining her nails. Thrax had no idea what Kal saw in her anyway.

Kal cast a look in askance at Thrax, who just shrugged and shook his head.

He wasn’t about to shove Candy into an abyss so Kal could repeat a good deed.

Deep below, in a vast stink of darkness, they heard a low, ominous, rumbling. It echoed, over and over again, the rolling sound a thickening miasma, until it saturated the air around them, pressing against their eardrums, and threatening to drive them mad.

“What was that?” Thrax swallowed and popped his ears. He felt unsteady. “Memetic call,” replied Kal.

The sensation finally faded and Kal became intrigued by a large dark smear on the concrete. He let go of Candy and knealt down. Ran a finger along the glistening mark. “Dried mucous. Relatively fresh.”

Sable reached over and put a little on her tongue. “Three days. No more.” Her eyes met Kal’s. He grimaced and looked at her finger with disgust. She blushed. “I, I thought we should know... how long...”

“That’s disgusting.” Thrax made a face.

Kal got up and walked away from the abyss, which seemed wise to Thrax, who took a couple steps back away from it as well.

Jez smacked Candy on the back of the head, then pulled her close and hissed into Candy’s ear, with barred teeth, “You trying to get us all killed for some stupid human? A driver?”

“No,” stammered Candy. Her dress glowed with disarming purity. “Sorry.”

“Fuck,” cursed Kitty as her weapon began to cool. She walked forward, stopped, whirled about. “Now can we go?”

“Yeah,” said Thrax, looking at the snot stains. “I think that’s a real good idea.”

Chapter 19: Magnum Thrax

Pitch black.

Thrax groaned and tried to roll over. Strong arms held him fast. Female arms, but remarkably strong. He wriggled an arm loose and ran his fingers up to the face. Candy. She’d held him fast in the crash.

Likely saved his life. 

He patted her cheek. “Candy.”

No response. “Candy wake up.” Nothing.

He checked for a pulse.

Shit.

Androids don’t have pulses, he reminded himself. Nothing detectable, at least.

He could feel something furry clutched between her legs. The dog. Max.

There was a dull sensation in his leg. He reached down and peeled off a Healit pack from his calf. Felt the skin. Not a scratch. Fully healed. No bumps, ridges, scar tissue at all.

Healit was quality stuff.

He slowly peeled Candy’s arms off and sat up. Coughed.

There was dust in the air. Lots of it.

With a thought he activated his nanosuit’s night vision.

The cabin was a jumble. Some of the seats were distorted, disabled mid transformation. The androids and Kal were out cold, if not dead. Preservation systems? None looked injured. Regenerating?

“Darwin, report,” he commanded subvocally.

Nothing. The android intruder was not letting him speak. Maybe Kal could help with that. He leaned over to him. “Kal.”

Shook his shoulder.

“Eh?” said Kal with a start. He rubbed his forehead. “What happened?”

“Crash. Lost power.”

“Where are we? I can’t see anything.”

“The Megamall. Activate your night vision.”

“Oh yeah.”

Thrax looked into the front cabin. Ghatz had begun to stir.

Sang was gone.

His door was open. A soft breeze brought floating specks of dust drifting into the limo’s interior.

“How long was I out?” asked Ghatz, unbuckling his seat belts.
“No idea,” said Thrax. He unracked his rifle. “Just woke up myself. Sang’s gone.”

“What?” Ghatz looked at the empty drivers seat. “Get after him. What the hell’s with the androids?”

“They’re taking a little longer to recover from the impact. We’ve got faster nano-repair cycles,” said Kal. He unlocked the door latch and shoved it open. Unholstered a laser pistol and spun up the ribbed power ring.

“Hey, hold up,” warned Thrax. “Wait. Go together. Ready?” “Give the word, old man.”

Thrax and Kal stepped out of the vehicle on opposite sides, weapons at the ready. Thrax scanned the vast, cavernous room. They’d landed in a sumptuous woman’s clothing palace, decorated in Renaissance motifs. Even coated in a thin layer of dust and viewed in blown out green hues it was spectacular.

“Anything?” called Ghatz, crouched within the stricken limo. He clutched a nerve stimulator pistol tightly.

“Nothing,” said Thrax. “Nice statue.”

“Truly posh,” agreed Kal. “Replica of Trevi Fountain in Rome, if I’m not mistaken, and I’m not because I referenced my trivia database.”

“Darwin likes them.”

“Who?” asked Ghatz, climbing out. “The Romans.”

“He any help?”

Thrax contemplated whether he should tell his friend about the android. How it had seized control of Darwin. A tingle at the base of his spin suggested otherwise. He shook his head. “Offline.”

Kal bent down over a toppled rack of clothes. Felt the fabric. “Seems very well preserved.”

Blinding light.

The suits adjusted immediately and shifted to day vision.

Above them were orange blobs of light. Great chandeliers flickered and glowed, gaining steadily in brightness.

The room was even more impressive in natural light. Marble columns alternated with red marble walls and synthetic gold trim. Impressive roman statues were scattered about the floor on raised plinths. Animated images of long dead celebrities sashayed along the walls in flowing dresses. High up behind them there was a ragged hole the limo had created, dribbling dust.

A trickling noise gave Thrax a start.

Water began to flow into the shattered pool around the limo.

He raced back down and shut the doors.

“Curious,” said Kal, softly. “Fusion generators must still have juice. Our presence has reactivated the system.”

“Lot less dust than I would have expected.” “I don’t like this,” said Ghatz. “Look.”

He gestured towards a clutch of corpses piled before an escalator, desiccated and mummified. Their clothing and coiffed hair perfectly preserved.

Kal walked over. “The dry air seems to have preserved them.” He knelt down and touched the flowing blonde hair. Rubbed it between his fingers. “Ancients. Real ancients.”

“They were trying to get out. Looks like they rushed the stairs. Died.” Thrax looked down into the dimly lit lower level. The escalator was packed with gnarled bodies all the way down. He started to turn away when his peripheral vision caught sight of a figure standing in the dark below. He reflexively raised his rifle. Looked through the scope. Focused.

No one.

The figure was gone.

He lowered the weapon and looked again.

“Bullshiiiit.”

“What?” asked Kal.

“Thought I saw someone down there,” whispered Thrax. “Sang?”

He shook his head. “Don’t think so.”

Music began to tinkle in the background.

“Christmas carols,” said Kal. “Father Christmas.”

Strings of tiny bright lights forming a celebratory holiday image flickered on along the south wall. Beneath them was a long, pristine art deco bar. Behind the counter gold and crystal glittered. Wine bottles silently rose up out of cooled underground vaults.

“Let’s find Sang and get out of here.”

“Wait.” Kal looked back at his footprints in the dust. They seemed to be fading. “Is it me or is there less dust?”

Thrax nodded. “There’s less dust.” “This place is waking up.”

Kal, dressed in slovenly camo pants and a stylish rabbit shirt from The Pleasurepit Gift Shop, shrugged. “At least you dandies are dressed for it.”

“I can feel a breeze.”

Cool air began to flow into the room from above. 

“Where the hell is Sang?” wondered Thrax aloud. Behind the Trevi Fountain replica was a wall. A great box like column that dominated the centre of the room of white and black marble. A patio lay in front of the fountain, thoroughly rearranged by the arrival of the limo.

Thrax gestured towards the centre. “Could be in there,” he suggested. “Or collapsed somewhere amongst the rows of clothing. Weird. Thought they’d made everything on demand.”

“Or down there,” remarked Kal, looking over at the wizened corpses packed into the escalator.

“Let’s look around here first,” suggested Thrax. “Spread out, sweep the place.”

“We should wait for the androids to recover,” objected Ghatz. “Arm up.” Ghatz walked around and unlocked the trunk. Eight-Oh-Nine’s magnificent armour suit lay within, beside weapons, ammo, and supplies. Ghatz ran his hands over them, then felt above the wheel well for something. He withdrew his hand quickly as Thrax drew close.

“What’s that you’ve got?” asked Thrax, curious.

“It’s nothing. Help me with the suit.” Ghatz took the front, Thrax the legs, and together they hefted it out. It was heavier than it looked. Two hundred pounds at least.

“Remember,” said Thrax, patting the helmet possessively, “this is mine by right of combat.”

“Don’t make me laugh,” snarled Ghatz. “As Guardian, I have priority. Only I have the education and skill necessary to operate a complicated piece of equipment like this.”

“It’s all automated. A five year old could work it.”

“Yeah? Well, at the end of the day, I’m the one in charge.”

“Fine,” said Thrax, disgusted. He pushed the suit into Ghatz’s grasping arms. “Take it. For all the good it will do you.”

Ghatz stuck his nose in the air. “I shall,” he asserted with the lameness of a preening twerp. At least, that’s the way Thrax saw it.

“You,” Ghatz snapped at Kal, “Help me get it on, yeah?”

“Do I have to?” asked Kal.

“That’s an order.”

Reluctantly, Kal stomped over. It proved surprisingly easy, as the suit altered itself to fit as Ghatz slipped inside.

Kal wiped his brow and stood back beside Thrax. “It’s all about knowing how to go about it. It helps you, if you let it. Good to know.”

Ghatz shifted about in the armoured shell. “Fits. But nothing is happening.”

“Aw,” said Thrax, folding his arms in front of his chest. He was beginning to enjoy this farce.

“Tech boy,” said Ghatz, “fix it.”

Kal opened up the helmet and examined the neural connections. Pressed the neural tap against Ghatz’s forehead. “Huh. How about that. It’s inert.” Kal shook his head sadly and turned away. As he did so, he gave Thrax a surreptitious wink.

Thrax snickered

Ghatz glared. “Shut up. This is no time for your juvenile envy.”

With difficulty Thrax restrained the urge to punch Ghatz, who then turned to Kal. “Well, don’t just stand there you idiots. Get this thing off me.”

A moment later they stuffed the bulky super suit back in the trunk.

Ghatz angrily yanked out a grenade bandolier and pulled it over his head. He tossed a bag of explosives and detonators to Kal, and another bandolier to Thrax.

“Whoa,” said Kal, looking into his bag of destructive goodies. “I don’t even know how to use these.”

“It’s a dead mall, Ghatz,” snorted Thrax. “Don’t be afraid of your own shadow.”

“I’m more afraid of blowing my own arm off, actually.”

Ghatz thrust an EMP Robotaser at Thrax, then holstered one for himself. “Be prepared, yeah? I’ll go left,” he said, and stalked off, weapon at ready.

Thrax hoped Ghatz would get eaten by something unpleasant. He motioned for Kal to go through the piles of clothes.

“I’ll take right. Back in a minute.”

“Yeah, fine, leave me here with all the dead bodies,” said Kal. “With enough firepower to blow myself to kingdom come. Off you go. Have fun.”

“I’ll send any sexy ghosts back,” said Thrax with a smile. “Hey, s’all good. I’m open to virtual relationships.”

Thrax headed off, stalking warily through rows of opulent finery. As he padded down plush red carpeting, he passed mirrored sheets which disconcertingly reflected him back wearing high end dresses. He did look good in the sheer strapless gown.

‘VENUS CALOON COLLECTION: WEAR THE IMPOSSIBLE, BE THE EYE OF THE SOCIAL STORM,’ blared a meme projector as he passed, straight into his brain.

Cylindrical design and fitting platforms lined the aisle to his left, abstract holographic generators spinning fabrics in space for review when he neared. Nano-sartor machines sparkled and spun in shimmering arcs, waiting to weave garments directly on the client in real time, the ultimate in customization.

****

Kal watched them go. In moments they were lost in the endless aisles.

“Watch out for salespeople,” Kal called out after them. “They can be very aggressive. This place is looks terribly overpriced.”

No response. “Hello?”

Out of voice range.

Kal didn’t want to raise his any louder. Probably bad given how spooky the place was. No telling what kind of synvirus infections or rogue military bots had taken refuge in the Megamall. Over the eons, horrific mutants, warped by radiation, enhanced and bent by symbiotic viruses bonding to their DNA and then enabled by powerful nanites flowing through their bloodstreams, could be anywhere and everywhere.

No use thinking about it. He’d rather be back in the car with the foxy androids. That

Jasmine was a real looker, he thought, remembering her plump, shapely thighs and how they curved ever so subtly into the knee before flaring gloriously into sleek calf muscles. Hers got his heart beating a little faster than any of the others. Perhaps it was the beginning of an unhealthy obsession. No time for such thoughts now, he reminded himself. Sang could be in trouble. Real trouble. He felt a wave of shame.

CRACK.

Kal whirled. Something by the escalator had snapped. Shifted. He raised his weapon and edged over slowly. Flicked on the weapon’s barrel mounted flashlight and played it around the body lined depths. Nothing.

He shrugged and went back.

Bending down, he started to rummage through the piles of impossibly expensive display clothes, chucking them this way and that.

A soothing disembodied voice began to speak as he touched each garment, detailing the design and features in scrupulous, evocative detail; pricing holograms popped up with buy buttons that gleamed enticingly.

“Versasse notch collar jacket, morphing tail and cuffs, self-cleaning with side seam pockets... Temptation sheath dress, psychic chromatophore coating, designed by Yves Godot, dynamic auto-adjusted fit...”

He tuned it out.

No sign of Sang. Where would he go? Why leave the group? It made no sense for him to wander off on his own. He wouldn’t even have left the vehicle without waking someone else. Unless it was urgent. Yet there was no sign of any imminent threat, no struggle, no trail of blood or even footprints outside his door.

Footprints.

He froze.

That was odd. He remembered not seeing any footprints. How did Sang get out without making them? He clambered to his feet and walked back towards the automobile. Shit. The water had risen in the pool. Ash now swirled along curling currents of water.

No way to tell now. They should have thought of that. CRACK.

There it was again. Like bone breaking. He peered intently at the escalator for the slightest sign of movement.

A faint howl rose up from the lower level. The air conditioning had created a breeze. “Hello?”

The wind must be shifting the bodies. Making the noise.

That was it.

CRACK.

That wasn’t it. “Sang?”

He dug into the bag of explosives and fingered a charge. He could place them on both sides of the escalator, hide a few in the pile of bodies, too. Anything that came up... blewie!

Kal took a step towards the escalator. Then another. One hand wrapped around his pistol, the other caressing an explosive in the bag.

“Anyone there?”

He let the challenge hang in the air.

“I’m armed. Come on out! I won’t warn you again.”

The only sound was the soft mournful rush of purified air. Kal began to relax.

Must have been his imagination. How silly he could be! Left alone, his mind was up to its old tricks. Spinning mad tales of threat and peril from the inner recesses of his lizard brain. Honestly, he let his paranoid tendencies get out of control too often. Had to be more disciplined in future. Stay under control. Rational.

With a chuckle he turned back towards the limo. Water sloshed against the wheel wells now.

Behind him, Kal heard flesh slap against marble.

Just his imagination running riot. Pulling his darkest nightmares out of his subconscious and inflicting them upon his conscious mind.

A scrape. Crackling and popping, like stiff tendons and disused joints.

Rustling of dried fabrics. Feet upon grit and dust.

Panic began to seize Kal. His heart was beating at a mile a minute. Kal started to turn his head, slowly, in the tiniest increments. He felt half paralyzed with fear.

A hiss.

Something was drawing closer.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw just what he didn’t want to: the bodies of the rich, well dressed ancients were rising to their feet. Joints and tendons creaked in protest with every movement. There were only black sockets where eyes should have been. Lips were dried and pulled back over artificially whitened teeth.

Their arms rose up as one, reaching for him. A shapely corpse in a form fitting red evening gown with pink ruffles was only a few feet away.

Its clawed hand stretched outward towards his throat.

Kal couldn’t move. He felt like he was outside his own body watching events happen to someone else.

This was how he’d die. POUM!

The mummified hand exploded into a shower of dust and bone. Red reeled backward a moment, then swung at him with the other arm.

BAM! A second shot took her head off, blowing it into a thousand dried fragments, spraying Kal in debris. He watched as the long, lustrous hair, deprived of a head to adorn, toppled to the floor into an undignified lump.

“Run!” yelled Thrax from afar, raising up his weapon again and letting off two more shots. A pair of dead fashionistas shattered into brown clouds of dust. Their glittering gowns crumpled to the floor, settling over diamond studded six inch heels designed by Louis Vach.

Kal backed away from the oncoming horde, turned to run, only to find himself stopped short, face to face with a lovely, petite young woman wearing a radiant smile and chic, shimmering clothes. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun. Animated makeup formed abstract patterns and danced over her smooth eyelids.

“Welcome,” she said cheerily, “to Heritage Liberty Luxury Megamall, the world’s most exclusive retro shopping palace. How can I help you?”

“Shit!” blurted Kal. He felt like he was having a heart attack. “Get out of the way!”

Too late. Clawed, gnarled hands seized him from behind. Horrific visages, faces as if freeze dried, peered over his shoulder and drew him close. Half a dozen more hands grabbed his bag, as if guided by a single intelligence, and ripped it away. A cluster of mummified zombies in chiffon-skirt sequined cocktail dresses gathered on his right, started to pry his fingers loose from his pistol.

He couldn’t bring it to bear.

“Oh, I see you are interested in the jewelry,” gushed the young lady, eyes wide, noticing the bracelets on the brown, brittle arms that held him. “You have wonderful taste.”

“I’ll buy it! So help me!” gasped Kal, struggling against thin but powerful limbs. “That’s the latest by Gigi Foo. The Immortal Lady GuGah has the only other pair.” Kal thrashed about, helplessly. “Get them off, lady!”

“We’re sorry,” replied the young woman, her face filled with empathy. Her eyes held such deep understanding Kal felt them connecting to his very soul. He forgot all about the mummizombies. “Our systems are currently experiencing technical difficulties. We will resume normal service shortly. Please stand by. Thank you for your understanding.”

Chapter 18: Magnum Thrax

Thrax strode to the abandoned, dust covered cannon and looked out the window at the square. The sleek weapon was undamaged. He wiped dust off the targeting array. Blank. Inactive. AI wiped or slumbering.

Behind him, Jez poked slumped figures with her rifle. One by one they deflated into shapeless bags of dust. She felt a rush each time.

“Snap, crackle, pop,” she snickered. “Like popping bubble wrap.”

The blue butterfly landed on her nose.

“Leave them alone,” Thrax ordered, annoyed. “These men were soldiers; they should be left to rest in peace.”

She ignored him.

Thrax sighed and turned back to the parking lot. Hefted his viewer plate and scanned the ruins. Half buried in ash were thousands of rusted metal lumps. Ground vehicles. The wrecks were scattered randomly towards the edges of the lot, but in orderly rows nearer the centre. A few were in perfect condition, gleaming in bright, candy colours, their chrome as shiny as the day they left the mega-manufacturing box. Testament to quality nanite maintenance systems running endless repair cycles.

Must be imports.

Thrax activated threat analysis. The plate throbbed gently. Crosshairs flickered. Dozens of possible minefields and energy signatures lit up. Too many to calculate or separate out into individual threat evaluations. Basically, the parking lot was bad news.

The far side was hemmed in by a wall of biobuildings, their broken and torn husks soaring almost a kilometer high. Windows gone. Millions of places to hide snipers and hunter killers. Place was a freakin’ deathtrap, just as the limo said.

Ghatz lowered his own scanner. He turned to Hercules: “I don’t like it.”

Hercules nodded. The butterfly had landed on his neck. A thin probe jabbed into his spine. Hercules blinked, then twitched. He raised up his pulse pistol and aimed it at Thrax.

At that moment, Jez jabbed the last mummified soldier in the groin. A bright light blinked behind the face mask.

It fell with a loud clunk on top of the table and emitted an odd, alarming noise. BEEP BEEP BEEP

“Booby-trap!” yelled Thrax. He threw himself out the front window just as Hercules fired. The bolt blew a hole in the wall.

Ghatz was mere seconds behind Thrax, leaping out the same window and landing awkwardly atop him.

Thrax shoved Ghatz off and lifted his head. Peered into the room.

The hulking android stood unsteadily in the middle of it. He seemed confused. Stunned. Jez ran past him with super human speed, respirovores pushed to the max.

She wasn’t fast enough.

BEEP BEP BIP BEEEEEEEEE

Thrax ducked.

A tremendous fireball burst outward, shattering the window frame, shredding the camouflage netting, and tossing Jez meters away, her black coat trailing flame. Balls of black smoke rolled into the sky, trailing thick, inky wisps.

Jez rolled rapidly, putting out the fire, and unfolded to a stop in a combat crouch. Smoke curled from her burnt jacket. Maintenance cycles in the high tech garment quickly repaired the damage. She got up and strode over to the two men as they clambered to their feet.

“Nice,” Thrax groused, dusting off his suit. “So much for the element of surprise.” Jez glared back. “You goaded me. Not my fault.” She grabbed a big charred ball at her feet and chucked it at Thrax.

He caught it on reflex and involuntarily shivered: it was Herc’s head.

“Give him a kiss,” snickered Jez, and she set off for the car. 

**** 

“What the hell?” exclaimed Kal, looking out at the smoke and flames. “Something’s gone wrong. Let’s pick them up.”

Kal leaned forward and shook Sang’s shoulder. “Sang! Hit it!”

Sang emerged from his meditative state and checked readings. “Still three life signs.” Sang checked the rear view mirror. “Whoa. Instant Urban Insurgency zombie horde, only one hundred yards away, everyone.”

“Don’t let them touch the car,” said Kal.

“Not a chance.” Sang flipped a panel up and hit an exposed switch. The turret mounted Bofors guns swiveled to life, locked on the horde and spat a thousand rounds of depleted uranium shells a minute at the nano-zombies, blasting then into dust. Coil mounted scoops stretched out from under the limo, latching on to metal debris, dissolving it and sucking up material for the onboard Drexlerbox to make replacement ammunition.

“Thrax!” Kal said into his mic. “You alright? Speak to me, choombata.”

“I’m good,” filtered back Thrax’s voice. “Tripped a booby-trap. Comin’ back.” “Hurry it up; we gotta roll.”

Thrax, Ghatz, and Jez raced around the corner and charged towards the car.

Kal slide back the sun roof and stuck his head out. “Run, you Death Zone celebrities!” The Bofors guns fell silent.

Kal glanced behind the limo. The zombies were obscured by clouds of smoke. He looked up and could see the red lights in the recesses of the buildings. Faint, shimmering red lines lead down from them and then snapped onto... the limo’s roof.

Kal felt his stomach tighten: the roof glowed red with laser targeting dots. A dozen split off and zipped towards Thrax, attracted by the combination of body heat and movement.

All at once the mystery gunners opened fire and the air crackled. Kal ducked back in and and locked the sun roof.

Depeleted uranium bullets peppered the ground, the car, everything. Ash and shrapnel spat into the air.

Kal cringed. It sounded like a hailstorm was hitting the roof. Fortunately, their aim was substandard. Most of the shots were going wide.

Sang popped the side doors. Bullets pulverized the faux fabric interior linings.

As Thrax dived the back of the limo, a bullet smacked into the back of his calf, splashing it with blood.

Ghatz leapt head first into the front seat and was shoved into Sang by a frantic Jez; she quickly reached out, snagged the door handle, and slammed it shut as a nanozombie rushed up and raked the window with knife sharp claws. Seconds later stray bullets from above cut it to pieces.

“Go! Go! Go!” screamed Jez, seized by panic.

The deluge of lead made the roof bubble inward, yet the hull defenses held. It was one well built car, thought Kal, impressed.

“Oh, my poor baby,” said Sang, rubbing the dash. “Hold on! Hold on!”

Zombies closed in regardlesss, totally focused on the vehicle and its juicy living occupants. They got shot to bits by the hundred.

“Hit it!” screamed Jez, grabbing Sang by the throat. “Hit it now!!! Squad, suppression fire! Fire, you stupid cows!”

A steady barrage of lasers blasts shot out in all directions from the cabin, through the windows, which let the energy pass out of the car without interference, but still blocked incoming ordnance.

Sang put the pedal to the metal. The car bolted forward, a tail of roiling ash clouds following. It swerved between corroding vehicles, cutting corners too tightly, sending wrecks spinning and burning and throwing glowing sparks. Warning lights flashed as Sang drew too close to an identified mine. He angled away and accelerated just as several mines went off. Huge chunks of metal and diamacrete were blown skyward but the car was unscathed.

From distant towers high above, energy beams lanced out, slicing holes in the top of the limo. Beams sliced through the androids, leaving several with flesh wounds. One long burst hit Jasmine in the leg, neatly slicing it off. She let out a horrific scream of agony and clutched the stump. The ceiling holes bubbled shut. The surface adapted to the beams, rendering them ineffective.

Candy quickly grabbed the severed limb, pulled out a Healit nanonutrient gelpac and slapped it over the bloody stump. She angled the severed limb and lined it up with what remained attached to Jasmine, then pressed the two together. As nanite swarms began to knit the limbs, Jasmine writhed in agony.

“Turn off your pain receptors!” Candy shouted. Jasmine wasn’t listening. Candy dipped into her bag and pulled out an injection tube, then slammed it into Jasmine’s good leg.

Jasmine slipped into a blissful, protective, five-minute mini-coma.

“Activate the rocket jets!” ordered Kal.

“I can’t dodge at that speed,” protested Sang.

“Why the fuck are you driving then?” demanded Jez. “Let me drive!”

“Do it, Sang! I’ll help course correct!” said Kal, bringing up a slew of holographic interfaces.

Sang lit the engines and the car accelerated to an almost unmanageable speed.

A thought bomb burst below, but its targeting algorithms had not anticipated the target’s increased velocity. The limo was almost out of range of it when it detonated. Their minds filled momentarily with panic: ‘WE’RE ALL GONNA DIE!’ Then it faded and was replaced by perfectly normal, natural panic.

Out of the wreckage below insectile hunter bots rose up, antimatter lances sparking on contact with air. Segmented, gleaming metal millipedes unfurled out of their nests and locked on the source of the commotion.

“Incoming!” yelled Kal, detecting them. “Unknown bots, floaters, crawlies, closing in. High speed.”

Thrax rolled about on the floor beside him, grasping at his shattered calf. Black lines began to spread from the wound.

“It’s a burrower bullet!” said Kal, alarmed, “Candy! Get it out fast!”

Candy slid over, grabbed and unsheathed Thrax’s knife, dug it into his leg, and opened up the wound. With her other hand she reached inside and yanked out a squriming black shell that had sprouted branching tendrils. They writhed in her hand, then wrapped around her wrist and began to dig into the flesh.

“Hold on.” Andromeda closed her fist and touched the wriggling shell with her EMP cereal prize ring. It sparked and the writhing tentacles fell lifeless.

“Get a pack on that,” said Andromeda, pointing at Thrax’s leg. “It will need material to rebuild.”

Thrax collapsed against the floor and was thrown back against Candy’s magnificently curvaceous legs as the car angled sharply upward. “Fix the damn dampeners!”

“Halfway there!” Sang shouted, hope rising. Sang could see a ring of red dots closing around the vehicle on the threat map. “Deploying wings. Firing afterburners!”

The limo flew off the ground and heaved awkwardly into the sky as gleaming legged tentacles crashed into each other below, metal and synthetics buckling.

“We’ll skim over the mall domes, use’em for cover. Buckle up!”

The team shook in their seats as the limo throbbed with power.

“Hang on!”

Lasers and electromagnetic railgun shells, propelled at supersonic speed, cut through the air. Explosions burst around them.

“I’m too beautiful for this shit!” exclaimed Kitty through chattering teeth, her features scrunched by g-forces.

Sable frowned. “I don’t see what that–” Her voice vibrated in unison with the shuddering vehicle frame.

The limo was tossed upward by an explosion’s expanding bubble of superheated air. Unsecured items and passengers were tossed aloft, momentarily freed from gravity. The vehicle snapped down again as it angled downward to evade an oncoming wave of air grenades.

The wreckage below was engulfed in flames.

Kal directed ECCM at incoming missiles, detonating dozens prematurely. “Counter fire! Take’em out! Give it all you got!”

“You heard the man; light’em up!” Thrax growled, priming his rifle. The androids faced outward, hefted their weapons and let loose with a barrage of defensive fire.

As the limo climbed up the battered side of the foremost dome, a missile missed by Kal closed in from behind.

Thumper tried to get a bead on it with her rifle, through the rear window. She let off several shots. They went wide. Aimed again. Missed.

The missile’s nose cone split apart, launching a dozen micromissiles. “Little help here!” yelled Thumper.

Andromeda dropped against the back seat, leveled her rifle and snapped off three expert shots, each hitting home. Three missiles gone.

Four!

“Brace!” Andromeda yelled, ducking down and covering her head.

Eight hit, sending cascading ripples of blue electrical energy flickering over the vehicle.

All systems went dead.

Sang’s heart sank. Despite all his meditation training, his voice rose in volume, “Lost control!”

“Do something!” screamed Jez.

“Systems down,” confirmed Kal. “Electromagnetic pulse.”

“We’re going down,” said Sang. “Everything is out.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” replied Kitty from in back. She racked her rifle, closed her eyes, and assumed crash position. The others followed suit.

“Useless idiots!” growled Jez. “I could have ruled the world!”

Sang tried to angle the limo to skim the dome, and it almost worked. The car hit the grime encrusted surface and bounced, leaving a dent. Hit again, then burst through, plummeting with spinning fragments of reinforced synglass into the darkness of Liberty Megamall.

Gigantic, grinning faces of happy children and moms carved in the finest marble rushed up out of the darkness and vanished again. Girders passed by. Signage. Tattered banners. Cables. Christmas decorations. Mirrored partitions.

“This is it!” THOOM!

The limo hit a concrete wall, plowed through it into racks of expensive, preserved clothing and animatronic mannequins. Sparks arced as the limo skidded across a dusty marble floor and slammed into a huge fountain’s forlorn, ash filled pool.

Waves of dust and debris fell from the ceiling, caking the limo in what looked like freshly fallen snow.

Silence fell.

That's it for this week. If you like, please share. Get out the word of Thrax.

Chapter 17: Magnum Thrax and the Amusement Park of Doom

In the passenger cabin, Thrax and the androids swarmed Kal with congratulatory hugs and high fives.

“This is what it’s all about,” Kal gushed as Jasmine stuck her tongue in his flap like ear. She liked ears. “Oh yes! Adrenaline and blood rush. Oh, my lovely loins! Drinks on me!”

A sudden shift. They tilted back as one, stomachs in free fall, their feet leaving the floor before the invisible utility fog caught them and compensated.

Everyone scattered for their seats.

Kal leaned back and fought the urge to vomit.

Sang sent the limo skimming down a canyon lined by petrified buildings, slipping past wreckage and piled detritus of war. Heavy duty assault mechs with full weapon load outs, were half-embedded in petrified nano-goo. Their upper hulls were swiss cheese, peppered by hundreds of ragged holes. Rusted scout mechs lay ahead, lying sprawled in the ash, wrapped in the shadow of kilometer high buildings that blocked out the sun.

Sang hit the halogen headlights.

In the dim light Kal could make out macabre symbols to mad alien gods painted on the facades, many marred by rifts carved by black, terrorist goo. Rags hung from exposed wires, clusters of barrels and chairs lined the edges of the gaping interiors. Strange feelings washed over them as they flew down the street. Desire for shoes, electronics, exotic foods, knick knacks, and the latest model of vehicle. Every now and then a flash of anger and outrage, shrieks demanding mankind be destroyed, demands for social mobility, powerful urges to stay indoors.

A series of slogans and images flit through their heads:

“NOTHING IS IMPOSSIBLE WITH iGOD: YOUR PERSONAL APOTHEOSIS.”

“NARCISSUS TELOMERE TREATMENTS: STAY YOUNG. BE YOUNG. FOREVER.”

“YOUR WILL SHALL TRIUMPH WITH INDOMITABLETM SPORTS GEAR.” “FIND LIFE SOLUTIONS WITH TRANSHUMANITY UPGRADES.”

“MADONNA XXX, THE VIRGIN WHORE, IN CONCERT! ONLY THIS WEDNESDAY.

Kal grabbed his head, tried to push the blaring thoughts out of his head. He found he could shut them out if he just... pushed ‘down’ a part of his brain. That was the only way to describe it. Like you were going to the bathroom. “The city seems to have fallen into anarchy even before the large scale fighting began,” observed Kal. No one knew exactly how the collapse had happened. Mostly people thought it was because technology had simply run out of control.

“Must have been one hell of a doublefisted megacull,” muttered Thrax softly. “Someone living here?” pondered Ghatz.

Kal shook his head. “Not likely. Those are probably hundreds, even thousands of years old. Just preserved by autorepair cycles.” He gazed out at the ruins and a powerful sense of loss flooded over him. “Think of it. All those buildings were once teeming with people, all filled with hopes, dreams, loves. Millions of them. More than we’ve ever seen in our lives, more names than we could remember. All wiped away. Nothing but an empty shell left. Bones of diamond concrete.”

“Dick and Jane are dead, biatch,” said Kitty. “Get over it. They ain’t ever comin’ back.”

“I’m not so sure, choombata. Man your window,” ordered Thrax. “I have a bad feeling about the place. You’re smart Kal, but smarts aren’t wisdom. Ready your weapons. Watch the building floors, gaps, alley ways. Anywhere snipers could set up.”

“Agreed. Do it,” interjected Ghatz.

“You heard Our Glorious Leader,” said Jez, sulkily. “Watch ground level. Spots with limited fields of fire.”

“Smarts can be wisdom,” muttered Kal under his breath.

The team slipped into their combat positions; the interior filled with the sharp whine of fusion piles priming for action.

Pin searchlights on the limo’s flanks cast circles of light onto the diamacrete bones of the buildings as they blasted past.

Sections had been melted, warped, by rogue goo, then frozen in place as police-injected kill switches activated. Military grade, khaki nanoblobs were frozen in deadly embrace with black terror mounds composed of converted civilians and machinery.

Sang glanced at shimmering, floating readouts. “Hull integrity back up to eighty per cent. Material tanks down thirty per cent.”

“Watch the map,” said Ghatz. “Take Main Street going west.” He spun the hologram around, analyzing from multiple angles and distances.

“We should stay off the main streets,” replied Sang. With a snap of the wrists, he veered the limo down a barren side street.

“I told...” Ghatz stopped. “Fine. Agreed.”

Kal had nothing to add. They sat in silence, awed by the scarred and battered ruins around them. The tension built up and up. Finally he couldn’t stand it anymore. “Rather quiet in here,” whispered Kal. “Perhaps... too quiet.”

“It’s like a church,” said Thrax.

“Oh, please. What do you know of church, little man?” chided Jez.

“More than you.”

“Don’t be pathetic. My naughty nun outfit has a tungsten database chip. Whole sordid history of the church, Cadaver Synod, the lot. Should have worn that.”

“Bullshit.”

“Guys! I think I saw something,” called out Blossom. She adjusted her goggles.

“What?” asked Thrax.

“Lights. Like, red lights. Random patterns and stuff.”

“Nasties,” added Thumper.

“Yeah! I’m so sure!”

“Um. Could be targeting lasers?” mused Sable.

“I’ve seen them too,” added Kitty, placing her hands against the window, resting on her knees and shifting her buttocks into the air.

“Dreamer. Have not,” retorted Jasmine. “Or I would have.”

“Have so.”

Thrax waved them to be silent. “Okay. Keep an eye out, bots. At ready.” Kal checked the scan feed. There was a lot of interference.

“Widens up ahead,” observed Sang.

A column of sky lay ahead, the glorious colours of sunset slashed down through the black wall of tenebrous buildings.

“Slow down.” Ghatz checked the map. “It’s a parking lot. The Liberty Megamall of America is beyond. Last of its kind.”

“Oh. My. Gawd. I don’t believe it. Are you kidding me?!? Liberty Megamall is like the ultimate in on-site luxury shopping. Custom onsite manufacturing, radical immersive experience, and the most innovative, wicked hot product design anywhere in the world, or like, the entire freaking universe!” gushed Blossom. She was on the verge of completely freaking out. “I mean come on!”

“Way. Out.” said Jasmine, barely able to remain deadpan. She popped a memory mint and sucked on it contemplatively.

Even Sable smiled and nodded eagerly. “From what our archives say, they uploaded the consciousness of a thousand Italian fashion designers into their custom clothing AI. NeoBauhaus, Frontean, even Cinema-Aesthete theorists.”

Thumper wasn’t impressed. “Lame,” she sighed, and slipped on a pair of earphones.

“Their catalogue has one million different kinds of shoe designs,” added Candy, eyes aglow. “You guys, I bet samples are still in there.”

“That’s what they were fighting for, girl,” said Kitty. “Shoes?” replied Candy, confused.

“No, the nano-manufacturing capacity,” snarled Jez. “Stupid.” “Sssh.”

Ghatz pondered. “Wide open space. We’ll be a sitting duck.”

Thrax put a comforting hand on Sang’s shoulder. “Take us down to ground level. We can drive across the lot, use wreckage for cover.”

Ghatz slowly turned and glared at him. “What do you think you’re doing? I’m in charge here, yeah?”

“Oh. Sorry. Not.”

“Sit down. Sang, take us to ground level. Drive us across. Whisper mode.” Sang nodded. Grinned wryly but said nothing.

Thrax grumbled and buckled back into his seat. Kal gave him a wink, then looked out the window.

The limo slowly settled down onto the street, sending gusts of gritty ash blowing outward. The wheels deployed and the frame gave a slight bounce as it settled.

“Macroenhancers,” ordered Ghatz. The front windshield became a virtual display that zoomed in on the terrain before them. “Threat analysis.”

“No threats detected,” replied the onboard AI.

“Uh,” said Kal, tapping the back of the front seat, “I wouldn’t rely on that too much.” “Quiet,” snapped Ghatz. “Power signatures?”

“Six thousand three hundred and forty-seven, plus eight thousand nine hundred indeterminate readings I cannot get a fix on. Sophisticated masking technology seems to be in use. Military grade.”

“What I said,” breathed Kal. He made a face at Ghatz. The jerk was going to get everyone killed.

Thunder boomed and the maelstrom above them swirled with menace.

Sang turned, putting his arm over the seat, and looked at Kal. “Any advice?”

Finally! Someone showing some sense, thought Kal. He thought furiously. Nothing. “Drive fast.” Kal wasn’t always good under pressure.

Sang nodded and rubbed his hands together. “That’s what I like to hear. Give me a minute to warm up for it. A little meditation.”

“Oh Christ. Pathetic nonsense,” swore Jez contemptuously. “Om,” said Sang serenely.

“Actually,” interjected Sable, “Meditation has been found to have, um, profound impact on the human nervous system, not to mention happiness. Studies–”

“Stay here,” Thrax scooped up his viewer plate, a couple packets of nanocide, and stepped out, slamming the door behind him. The air was crisp. Sharp. Odorless. There were no sounds other than the wind and creaking of settling buildings.

**** 

Thrax tromped over to the store front on the right. Ash dunes had blown in through gaps that had once been windows. Shelves held rusted lumps of unidentifiable product. Not nanite protected, thought Thrax, disappointed. Probably too cheap to spring for it. Discount store. He walked forward, around jumbled desks, and into the next section, just before the parking lot. His boots left perfect imprints in the soft ash.

Ghatz, Hercules, and Jez followed him in, sweeping the room with their weapons. “Relax,” said Thrax. “Nothing dangerous here.”
Jez smirked. “Famous last words. Won’t stake my life on it.”

Furniture had been piled up around street level windows, reinforced with sandbags. Humanoid combat robots lay slumped behind, built in weaponry hanging limp. Thrax dusted off one’s blank, jawless skull like face, flipped back the loose helmet dome, and peaked in. A blob of fused metal and brittle, dried and shredded gel. The bot’s neural net had been dissolved by airborne corrosive.

A section of the southern wall had been blown out and then blocked with garbage bins, concealing a sinister, insectile pulse cannon, covered in snowy dust. Camouflage nets hung in front.

Set on a heavy metal desk in the vast display room’s centre was a communication array, surrounded by seated, mummified figures in armoured biowarfare suits. Other bodies lay crumpled by the windows. Cans, rusted together, lay in stacks, piled with crates of ammunition. A portable fusion generator was attached by cables to the cannon.

They all paused at the sight of that. Thrax scanned it for radiation.

“S’okay, it’s inert,” he said, giving them the all clear. He activated his HappyTime filter just for a lark; the world morphed into a fairy tale castle, the corpses into vine wrapped statues having tea. Birds chirped and sparkling sunlight flooded the chamber. He sniffed fresh lilacs. He breathed deep.

Jez shot him a suspicious look. “You on something?”

“Good feelings,” smiled Thrax. He shut down the filter and grey gloom enveloped his senses once more. It was too dangerous to indulge in filters, too immature. And he had no stims, anyway. With a start he noticed a single, shimmering, turquoise butterfly that refused to vanish with the rest of the reality overlay, and stubbornly flit, carefree, about the room.

“A pity. We could have used one of these, yeah?” said Ghatz. He slung the rifle over his shoulder and stepped up to the figures. Then he paused. “Wait. No holes in their suits.

Don’t recognize their ranks or insignia. Rebels?”

Plastic playing cards on the table.

White gleaming shapes behind dusty faceplates.

“Dunno.” Thrax walked over and reached out. Wiped a faceplate clean. The suit gently crumpled into a pile at his touch. The bones inside had turned to dust.

They could make jello out of that, he thought idly.

Creepy.

**** 

In the limo’s back seat, Kitty got bored playing with her retro-PDA, and stuffed it in her black ammo bag, then started to drum her fingers on the armrest. She popped a bubble at Sable, who kept going on about ancient pre-post-modern fashion designers.

Dullsville. Who the hell would want a sexbot like that, Kitty wondered. So boring.

Kitty climbed over Thumper and Blossom to the rear seat row and peered out the tinted window. Red dots were multiplying in number deep within the buildings. They began to grow larger, approaching the windows and ledges.

“Uh, yo,” said Kitty, “I think we have a problem here. In case anyone cares.” “Sush,” said Kal testily. “I’m trying to map a path forward.”

“Well, excuse me, nerd boy.” Kitty tapped the window. “I think we have more immediate concerns than your PHD thesis.”

“Give Mr. Grammer a break, Kitty,” said Sable, folding her arms across her prodigious chest, which was packed within a prim shirt and tight vest. “He’s trying to keep us from getting killed going across.”

“Girl, we’re not going to live long enough to go across. Look!”

Red dots began to dance on the surface of the limo. Far behind them, down the main thoroughfare, undead ancients in tattered garments appeared, preserved by microscopic machine infections, they began to race towards the chariot at Olympic runner speeds, their teeth gnashing, eager to spread the nihilist synvirus that churned inside their skull cavity. Their eyes were shiny black orbs, and glistening, gritty black goo overflowed from their hungry, foul mouths.

Until next week. 

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Chapter 16: Magnum Thrax and the Amusement Park of Doom

It's in the over-the-top spirit of Magnum Thrax

Ahead of them, deep inside the Death Zone, was Scylla, an undulating tornado storm. Some believed it was a sentient information wave, formed out of ancient information networks. It sucked ad clouds into its surging maelstrom vortex and devoured them while it loomed over the blighted landscape that was known as The Death Fields.

Thrax surveyed the bleak terrain. It was pockmarked with thousands of craters filled with stagnant black water. Blasted by ‘god rods’ from low orbit, the shallow pits offered succor to loathesome colonies of polyps.

He had no idea what they ate.

Didn’t want to.

Towering over the craters were remains of once indestructible war machines, their cyclopean frames scorched and shredded like tissue paper.

Long ago, two colossal ancient armies had clashed here. And in the shadows and crevices, their deadly legacy lived after them.

A bright dot of orange winked in the distance outside Thrax’s starboard window: an explosion. Five clicks away, to the north, easily Thrax zoomed the sensor suite in on the heat signature. It showed a divot in the earth surrounded by steaming organic matter. An animal of considerable mass had ventured into a still active minefield.

Yuck, thought Thrax.

A clap of thunder reverberated powerfully enough to be heard within the Lux Chariot cocoon.

Thrax tapped on the inky black forward divider. It slid away, revealing the driver cabin. “What?” demanded Ghatz testily, peering into the passenger cabin.

“We’re headed straight for The Death Fields,” said Thrax simply, as if that explained everything. It should have. Nobody sane went into The Death Fields. They were named that for a reason.

Ghatz sniffed. “Have you been drinking?”

Thrax paused for a beat and lied. “No. Why?”

Ghatz’s eyes narrowed. He looked pointedly at the empty glass of gin Thrax held in his hand, then back at Thrax.

Thrax had forgotten about that.

He cleared his throat. Tried to think.

“Tonic water,” he said after a moment. Best he could come up with without Darwin and after several glasses. Verbal jousting on the fly was not his strong point. He preferred to punch people. He had his medbots remove all traces of alcohol from his breath. He wanted to hang on to the buzz. “Anyway. Death Fields are ahead.”

“Yes. So?” “That’s suicide.”

“Not at all,” responded Ghatz with a scoff. “We have a transponder. Gives us immunity to the remaining ordnance. Besides, going around would take too long. The fields are enormous. The south is dominated by corporate cyber-ant colonies and that nightmare fungi-termite metropolis. Corpcultists, the lot.”

Thrax shivered. He was fascinated and horrified by the gigantasects. Respirovores allowed them to grow to incredible size, while bacteria computers bestowed sentience. The termites fell prey to a rogue ad campaign for deodorant, and now grew it in the abdomens of a specially adapted chemical caste, and sprayed it everywhere. The ants brewed and sold and worshipped a brand of cola.

“Half,” corrected Kal. “What?”

“The transponder will only work for one side or the other,” said Kal. “Federalist or Coalition. So it’ll only be half effective.”

“Um. Actually... less than half,” interjected Sable, putting her glasses back on and pulling her hair into a tight bun. “It won’t affect the tertiary parties, such as the anarchists, nihilists, ecowarriors, or corporate enforcement.”

Kal’s jaw dropped.

Thrax felt bad for his friend. Kal hated being wrong, hated having his easy breezy declarations challenged.

“That is, I think. Just an idea, a thought,” said Sable, blushing. She nervously adjusted her glasses. “Didn’t mean to interrupt. Sorry.”

“I was going to say that,” huffed Kal, feigning indignation at being interrupted. “Quiet!” Jez rounded on Ghatz, “That true? It’s not what you told me.”

“We’re so fucked,” muttered Kitty glumly, plunking her face into her hands.

“It’s good enough. We’re going across,” said Ghatz flatly. “That’s the plan. Time to separate the men from the boys.”

“Why not go north?” asked Jez. “Give us a chance to wear furs.” “No way,” said Jasmine emphatically. “No freakin’ way.”

“The Pox Khanate,” said Ghatz. “Some real bad-ass biobricks.”

“What? I didn’t think anything lived in the Yelling Wastes,” Thrax said. He only knew of the Yellstone megavolcano, an earthly Olympus Mons. An eon ago it detonated in a massive Plinian explosion that buried the continent in chalky ash. Only Pleasurepit Five had survived unscathed. At least, that’s what they told him in school.

“That was a long time ago. It’s plague nomad territory now. I love those guys, in a science nerd kind of way. Blood boil cowboys. Herders with virulent pathogenic symbiots, uber hyper aggressive microscopic allies that strike down anything they cross. Their flock is also infected. Makes trade deadly difficult. Isolationists, thankfully. No one bothers them, save machines. Think they’re Amish.”

“Mormons,” corrected Sable.

Kal scowled and dipped his head. Thrax grinned and tried not to laugh. Another score for Sable. Must really be driving Kal crazy.

Kal, his voice more subdued, cautiously continued: “And as curious as I am, scientifically, about the fields, I’m not suicidally so.”

“The boy is right,” added Andromeda from in back.

“Your objections are duly noted, android corporal,” said Ghatz, emphasis on the low rank. “Sang, step on it.”

Sang, intent on the terrain ahead, frowned. He started to speak, stopped, then blurted, “Sorry, man, I agree with them.”

Ghatz lost his patience. “These fields are a thousand orbits old! More! How bad can it be?” said Ghatz, exasperated. “They’re spent. Coasting on reputation. Legend. Bottom line: stop being such a pack of Nervous Nellies.”

“You’re the boss,” Thrax said, and slid back into his seat. Until we’re all killed. “Getting there is half the fun, as they say.” He looked over at Kal, who tapped the side of his forehead, crossed his eyes, then pointed back at Ghatz, mouthing, “Him batshit crazy motherfucker.”

Thrax grunted agreement and pulled his plasma rifle from its rack, which then receded into the vehicles’ frame. He primed the rifle’s fusion pile.

“Okay, ladies,” he said, loud enough to be heard over the music and recitation, “This is it. Get your weapons ready, by the windows. Prep for anything.”

The movie player faded out, and the broad bed shifted beneath the androids, separating and carrying each into a chair positioned before a window.

Kal fiddled with his vehicle interface. “Combat configuration set. Polarizing the windows now. You’ll be able to fire out, but they’ll still absorb energy coming in.”

“Check.”

“Activating recorders,” Kal added. “Don’t want to miss the silver lining of certain death.”

“Heaven forbid, girl,” added Kitty, rolling her eyes. The other androids tittered.

“Stop undermining team morale,” admonished Ghatz. “How soon?”

Jez checked the instruments. “Thirty seconds to border.”

“Buckle in boys and girls”,” said Sang.

The pristine stretched limousine, gleaming in the fading light of the sun’s crepuscular rays, crossed into darkness.

****

That was unexpected, thought The Wraith sitting atop a landing platform. It had picked the tilting kilometer high office spire as the site from which it would strike. The vehicle it was tracking was not capable of surviving the lethality of the Death Zone. Projections indicated it would turn south, run along the edge of the zone, through the isolated valley below:the optimal point for it to strike.

Now it was too late.

POUM!

****

Waves of stygian ash slammed into the Lux Chariot, the living dunes battering it left and right. Molecular grip tires barely held the vehicle upright. A few more hits and they’d give way, sending the vehicle tumbling into chaos.

“That’s not ash,” said Kal, “It’s—”

“Grey goo!” shouted Ghatz, gripping the dashboard. “Get us airborne!”

The limo shuddered as each successive wave hit, battering down their defenses and hull integrity.

“We’ve lost our drone scouts,” announced Kal.

Vast zymotic dunes began to shift, awaken, flowing, focusing in on them. Sang pulled back on the steering wheel.

Traceries of electricity arced through the black churning murk far above, unleashing lightning bolts which struck all around the limo, turning ash to glass and scorching the limo’s shell. It began to smoke.

Jez’s teeth clattered as she shook in her seat. She looked over at Ghatz, as much as the G- Forces would allow. “This had better work,” she hissed, menace in her silken voice.

Jets appeared on the underside of the limo and burst into life. Roaring blue flames propped the vehicle up on a cushion of superheated air. The wheels folded into their wells to be replaced by short, stubby wings.

More multi-coloured lightning bolts. They fell short.

Rear mounted rockets fired, throwing passengers back hard against their seats, propelling the limo forward like a cruise missile.

The malevolent dune sea roiled beneath them, issuing otherworldly shrieks, then, realizing impotence, slowly subsided once more into somnolence.

“They seem to have deployed it within rigid, coordinate defined areas,” observed Kal, “All three dimensions. Smart.”

“Told you,” said Ghatz with a triumphant grin. “Piece of cake.”

As he turned back forward, he saw sand cascade off a huge black egg that rose up out of a patch of phlegmatic goo, thirty meters high. The front unfurled gracefully, like a rose petal, into a score of rubbery arms, each ending in a clawed particle weapon ringed by undulating filaments. At the centre was burning, crimson plasma forge, shimmering with indescribable heat, a great malevolent eye. Thousands of short feelers lined the inner edges.

Ghatz gibbered in fear.

Kitty threw up her hands. “You fucking moron!”

“Oh, my,” said Sable, peering over the rim of her glasses. “Some kind of nanocolony robot.”

“Evasive!” yelled Thrax.

Strobe lights flashed all over its surface with blinding intensity.

Sang adjusted the window dimmers and waggled the steering wheel.

Beams of energy lanced out from the antediluvian war machine, sizzling past them. Sang veered the limo sharply sideways, dodging another salvo.

There was a tremendous explosion behind them as the beams detonated an ancient ammunition stock. The limo’s rear slid sideways. Sang pulled hard on the wheel in the opposite direction, bringing it back in line and sending the limo soaring through a rent in an ancient war hulk.

“Idiots! We need ECM!” said Jez. “Fast!”

Kal closed his eyes and focused his mind in virtual programming space. “I’ll try and scramble its fire control.”

“Oh, I’m on it,” said Sable, tapping at her own holographic interface.

Kal gave her a sharp look. No time to dispute or get territorial. He got back to work.

Dozens of white-hot streaks sliced after them, cutting through the twisted metal derelicts like knives through butter. Sparks, molten metal, and smoke gushed from the blubbering, sagging contact points.

Yet another refulgent salvo singed the limo’s hull.

“I can’t... I’m trying. It’s too fast!” exclaimed Sable.

“It’s overcalculating us; zeroing in!” shouted Kal. “Get us out of here quick!”

Support straps and harnesses dropped from the ceiling in back. Squad members grabbed on to them for dear life as the internal stabilizers became overwhelmed by reckless maneuvering.

“Radiation hot spot ahead!” called out Ghatz.

Sang smiled and accelerated. “Not for long.”

Before them lay the sublimely mournful ruins of a long dead city of indescribable scale and beauty, the prize over which the long ago battle was fought. Scorched silver spires rose majestically out of the ash, resplendent and adorned with mighty advertising billboards touting glorious miracle products. Their colours had faded, sections ripped away, but the message of prosperity remained, calling out across the eons.

Jumbled piles of rusted hover cars lay against the base of them, where hurricane force atomic winds had casually thrown them.

A dozen sleek legs sprouted from the machines’ glossy underside; it gracefully raised its bulk out of the earth’s embrace and trundled after them. Dozens of small shimmering globules, explosive drones, peeled off from its main body, sprouted thrusters, and rocketed after them at supersonic speed.

Sang noticed bright, darting specks in the rearview mirror. Engine glow. Rockets. He bit his lip and flipped a switch. Brilliant streams of golden lights spewed from the limo’s tail lights, diverting the incoming globules at the last second. They exploded into coruscating vortices that shook the vehicle about like paper in a hurricane.

“Faster!” shouted Ghatz.

“Already at max!” gasped Sang through gritted teeth, struggling to bring the vehicle under control again. It throbbed and shook with runaway power.

Control panels flickered, turned to static.

Went out. The steering wheel became much harder to shift. Sang’s muscles strained, veins popping.

“What’s that? What’s wrong?” demanded Jez, panicking.

“It’s using ECM against us,” said Sang, spinning up the ECCM dial. “Just. Give it a sec.”

“We don’t have a sec,” exclaimed Kitty. “What’s the matter with you people?”

“Shut it, Kitty!” said Thrax, fed up. “That’s enough out of you.”

The lights popped back on, danced sideways like mad sound waves, then snapped into sharp characters.

“Engaged electronic warfare; we’ll see who has the better program,” said Sang as holographic readouts flashed around him.

“Ah, but we do,” asserted Kal, “Not to worry, ladies and gentlemen. I updated the chariot’s defenses an hour ago.”

“That was you?” asked Sable, impressed. “Indeed.”

“Wait. You what?!?” Sang’s eyes bulged, and he almost choked on his own slavia. Anger flooded his brain, overpowering years of meditation practice. “You hacked my fucking car? My baby!?!”

“Uh, well, yes, sorry, but... there were pressing reasons,” said Kal, “No overstepping of bounds meant. It was just dangerously outdated, archaic even. Heh.”

Sang cursed. “You sonnova–”

Something glittered and caught Thrax’s eye.

“What’s that?” he asked, pointing.

It was a small, gleaming silver pod floating upward on their forward port side. “Comm relay? The fuck do I know. Serenity now--”

“That’s not a–”

As the sphere languidly drew level with the limo, it began to glow, then sparkle like a vampire in daylight. It detonated, showering the vehicle with armour piercing shrapnel. Bulbous dents appeared in the hull. A section by Thrax jutted inward like a knife, barely missing his throat. Autorepair quickly pulled the deformity back into the frame’s defined shape.

“Warning. Hull integrity,” announced the limo computer rather indifferently, “at seventy per cent and falling.”

“Oh! Oh! Mines!” Kal said excitedly. Challenge had reared its ugly head, and he was ready to chop it off. “Got an idea. So good!”

A hundred more pods fired into the air, filling it with deadly bursting fireworks, peppering the vehicle front to back.

Thrax released his seat buckles and threw himself into the centre of the cabin. “Get away from the frame!” He fired at the silver pods from the hip. Hit two, which exploded.

Dozens more hit.

The hull assumed the look of an inverted anemone, thousands of indentations pushing the autorepair to breaking point.

Andromeda fired wildly out the side window, the energy beams passing harmlessly through. A bolt hit a silver pod, sending it spiraling downward trailing smoke.

A 3D projection hovered before Kal, showing a cross section of a machinery filled metal sphere. “AVM-190. Gotcha.”

“Hull integrity fifty-two per cent.”

A pod exploded to their port side; a hundred sharp shards blasted inward. Jasmine took a hit in her calf and screamed.

“Twenty per cent.”

“Kal!” shouted Thrax, huddling with the androids, “Get out of your seat! Away from the window!”

“One sec,” said Kal, engrossed. He tapped madly at a keyboard. “My neural tap is blocked, some kind of jamming field below. Almost got it. You’re gonna love this. So rad.”

“Mr. Grammer, it won’t work!” shouted Sable. “Get up!”

“No, I got it, got it.”

A hundred shards burst into the underside, slicing up through Thrax’s seat.

“Hull integrity reduced to ten per cent,” said the computer. “Please visit your nearest auto repair shop at the earliest possible opportunity.”

“Got what?”

Energy beams flashed all around them, overwhelming the polarized windows.

The cabin flooded with blinding white light.

“Aw, no!” Kal blinked rapidly. “Fuck! I can’t see. Totally unfair!”

Sang spun the wheel hard, trying to avoid a fresh cluster of shrapnel pods.

Candy stumbled forward. Thrax shifted his rifle into his right hand and grabbed hold of her with the left as the vehicle lurched starboard.

She clutched Max to her chest.

The terrified dog whined plaintively.

“Ahead!” yelled Ghatz. “Look out!”

A gleaming silver pod was barreling straight at the front cabin. Too late to dodge.

Jez was firing off shot after shot at it. Went wide with worry.

Thrax instinctively leveled his rifle, aimed, and at the last possible moment, squeezed the trigger. The energy bolt barely cleared the top of Ghatz’s head, burning off the top of his hair before it passed out the front windshield into the pod, striking it dead centre. The pod disintegrated. Fragments clattered against the windshield harmlessly.

It was a shot for the ages.

“Lucky,” groused Jez, fiddling with her sights. “My gun was miscalibrated, or I’d have had it.”

Thrax gave her a triumphant wink. She snapped her head forward to hide the blush that filled her cheeks.

“There it is!” shouted Kal happily, looking up from his keyboard. “Should do it. Look and be amazed, my friends.”

Thrax followed Kal’s gaze.

Outside, the silver pods began to shift in mid air, then accelerated towards the pursuing war machine.

“Hold fire!” ordered Thrax.

A volley of deadly beams lanced outward, but the pods were too small for the behemoth to target effectively. Explosions blossomed over its sleek surface. Puffs of black dust spun outward. It extended its mass of surface feelers; they grew petals that tried to intercept the incoming pods before they contacted the hull.

It wasn’t enough.

The ancient death dealer slowed and stopped as more and more drone pods struck. Its surface began to fragment. Changing strategy, limbs and feelers retracted. The shell rippled and melted down into the earth. A section detached, oozing apart like blobs separating in a lava lamp, spreading out into a hard concave chrysalis shell that hovered in the air above the burrowing war machine.

Pods collided with it. Multiple explosions sent out a concussion wave that rocked the Lux Chariot as it fled at top speed.

“Maintain evasive,” ordered Ghatz, coming to his senses. “Get us out of here.”

Thrax and the androids clustered together in back, holding on to each other for support and stability as the limo jerked about violently, skimming over the deadly fields.

Kal pumped a fist into the air, ebullient. “Booyah! You see that? Hacked code in record time. Reset their threat AI. I amaze myself!”

“Inconceivable!” said Thrax with a wry grin.

“Nicely done, Mr. Grammer,” said Sable, hungrily peering over her glasses at Kal. She licked her lips as if she were looking at a rare, edible book of erotic poetry.

Ghatz sighed with relief and felt the singed top of his head. “Good work,” Ghatz conceded grudgingly. “I knew you’d be useful, Kal. Leadership is about putting together the right team for the right mission.”

Sang steadied the limo. “Everyone alright?” “Good back here,” replied Thrax.

“Keep your eyes peeled, yeah?” advised Ghatz. “New threats could come from anywhere.”

Sang nodded. “I said he had a point, didn’t I?”

“Just turn us around,” snapped Jez. “Before I rip your lying lungs out!”

Ghatz held firm. “Not a chance.”

That set Jez off. “What the fuck!? You want to get me killed, you dick wagging douchebag?” she spat back. “You’re a fool. A pathetic, incompetent fool. Go around!”

“One more word and you’ll regret it.” He pulled out his pistol and rested it in his lap. Jez fell silent.

****

The dominatrix android pondered her options. Perhaps Ghatz was more replaceable than she’d thought. Ghatz was a pathetic poser, out of his depth, useful only for his position. Thrax, on the other hand, was Mars personified. Being rejected by him just made him more desirable. A challenge. A mountain to be climbed. She liked the frission of it. The heat.

She wanted a man who could dice his enemies and look good doing it; ignite desire while splattered with the blood and guts of fallen foes, then take her afterward, without mercy. It was the nature of animals.

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Chapter 15: Magnum Thrax and the Amusement Park of Doom

Kal bobbed his head in sync to the blaring music. The gyrostabilized vehicle vibrated to classic rock in HD surround sound, enveloping the team in lust filled memes. At the back of the cabin, the android team had morphed the seating into a bed, and clustered themselves together for a pajama party.

Even Andromeda joined in.

Kal and Thrax sat at the forward end, still in seats, with nine small monitors showing the vehicle exterior to their left, controls to their right. They simultaneously spun their seats around to look at the androids. Hercules sat at the very back, left of the bed; rigid, tense, eyes burrowing into Thrax’s head, weapon cradled in his lap.

Thrax ignored the roidroid and sipped gin.

“This will be good,” grinned Kal, tapping his buddies’ shoulder. “From a purely anthropological point of view, of course.”

Thrax nodded, trying to appear disinterested and failing. “Yeah, course. Anthro- whatever.”

“Someone call Margaret Mead,” said Sable seductively eyeing Kal.

Kal felt a thrill at the reference. Sable wasn’t bad looking. Bit uptight conservative though. He wondered what she’d look like if she let her hair down.

Sexbots. Kal knew they existed solely to gratify human desires, male or female. Whichever. And they were perfect. Science in service of lust. One of The Seven Pinnacles of ancient civilization. Twin pinnacles? He snickered at his own tasteless joke. Kal liked tasteless jokes.

Small wonder people didn’t want to screw the real thing. Kal himself had only had sex with androids. Ever. Who’d have wanted him? A scrawny, gangly odd ball with muscles of jello and spotted skin. Compared to a bot, he was barely human.

In fact, few humans in the pit could stand up to such a comparison.

People had pimples, imperfections, cellulite, male pattern baldness and were stunted and scarred by radiation damage. Their flesh sagged. They grew old and decrepit. Got Warts. Goiters. Horrific mutations. Some developed fanged serpent penises or toothed vaginas, thanks to demented retrovirus designers, sniggering sado-hacks, ancient trolls who lived in their parent’s basement, pumping out invisible monsters to torment and twist people.

So many terrible things that didn’t have to exist but did because... people. Once they just coded viruses for software. Then they graduated to DNA. The Mortymortymorty virus made people endlessly recite the hacker’s handle until they died of starvation. Twisted stuff. Kal kind of envied the mayhem they were able to inflict upon the world. To live in a globalized, interconnected world!

Physical imperfection of course was the least of it. The emotional needs of another human being were far more complicated than anything a human could reasonably meet, or an android could feel. Which made them better at faking it. There was a word for it: psychopathy.

The artificial never had angst and ennui. They didn’t read existentialist novels. Such books just made them angry.

Kal stared idly at Jasmine. Was a true relationship even possible with an android? He knew there were android lines designed for it. iMate was high end artificial, a long term partner. The Pleasurepit didn’t have any, but he’d looked it up in the records. They were always going crazy in threevee stories, hacking their lovers to bits and sticking them in the fridge, only to bring them out for dinner parties. Kal wondered if that sort of thing ever really happened.

But iMate went out of business. Not as popular as sexbots. Nobody wanted the hassle.

Too much work.

Disposable mates to go along with the disposable appliances. Maybe that’s why civilization had collapsed.

Jasmine sat up and brought Kal out of his reverie. A bandolier slipped off her smooth shoulder. “Ready, choombas?”

“Ready!” declared the team in unison, giggling. Candy squealed and shook in anticipation. Sable whipped off her prim rimmed glasses and revealed gorgeous, big blue eyes.

Thrax and Kal exchanged an oh-my-God-I-can’t-believe-this look.

Jasmine tapped an interface. A 3D projector flicked on and began to play The Princess Bride, without sound. None was needed, as they’d all memorized the lines, and repeated them aloud.

Kal found it sensory overload.

Candy’s carry on bag rustled, and Max crawled out, drawn by the commotion.

The dog gave a curious yap, spotted Candy, and ran over into her lap, wagging his tail. “You brought the dog?” blurted Thrax, incredulous. “On a top secret mission?” “What, you afraid he’s going to talk?” snarked Kitty.

“He’s a mammal. Could be mind probed,” mused Kal, missing her tone.

“Oh, not the mind probe!” mocked Kitty, mouth agape in faux horror. She kicked her legs in an agitated flurry. “He might give away his dog food supply!”

Kal flushed red. “Ah. Right. Sarcasm. The lowest form of humour.” Kitty blew him an exaggerated, sarcastic kiss and winked.

“Look, we don’t have room or time—,” started Thrax.

“There was no one else to take care of him,” interjected Candy. She leaned over and Max, paws on her breasts, licked her face with a tongue of soggy sandpaper. “Please. Let me keep him.”

“It’s too late to go back,” noted Kal.

Thrax concurred. “Just don’t let Ghatz see the little chibit.” Candy smiled radiantly and nodded.

“So. Cute!” gushed Jasmine, flicking a mint about her mouth. It clacked against her teeth. She stroked Max’s fur. He wagged his tail so hard his furry bum shook. The other androids joined in, fawning over the dog, who lapped up the affection like cool spring water. He panted happily.

“Kissy, kissy,” cooed Candy.

Kal sank back glumly into his chair. “This is not what I was expecting,” he muttered dejectedly, propping his head up on his palm.

Thrax grunted. “I hate that damn dog. So much.”

****

As the sun began to set it drenched the world in a warm orange glow. The limo roared between two vine wrapped arcology mega-pyramids. Thrax remembered them from his childhood. Bored by school, he’d set out to conquer the legendary Twin Pyramids. Couldn’t have been more than ten. He ‘borrowed’ his parent’s hoverbike for the last time.

It was probably still in there, where he’d left it, rusted and broken. Dad never let him forget it. But that wasn’t the worst part. When he’d set out at dawn that day, four other boys had followed, lured by Thrax’s promise of adventure. Only Thrax returned alive. Yet he wasn’t the only one to return. He shuddered. Another returned, days later, covered in dirt and burrs. Billy Stanton. Only he wasn’t Billy any more, not really. Could still see that wounded look on his face, his dead grey eyes, his flesh beginning to rot. He’d been reanimated by a nano-advertising campaign. Ad zombie Billy tried to sell everyone shoes until Thrax put a fork through Billy’s eyesocket and scooped out his sparkle ad-goo infected brain.

The limo turned up a gently sloping hill and onto the remains of an antigrav highway. Slabs of white diaceramic still glowed softly. Support columns and light posts were wrapped in carnivorous weeds. Slender stinger tendrils snapped harmlessly at the armoured limo as it passed. Above them drifted a great herd of transparent, bulbous crystal jellyfloaters trailing stinger nets. They blinked bright neon with fluorescent proteins, waves of saturated colour, red, yellow, green, blue, sweeping through the herd, forming a complex dance of colour based communication. Some long dead geneticists idea for living Christmas lights. The swarm spotted the car, sank rapidly, and dropped their stingers over the road, but the sealed limo just passed harmlessly through.

“Stupid jello drapes.” Kitty chewed her gum casually, mouth open. The smacking sound filled the cabin.

“Could you close your mouth?” said Kal finally, “You sound like some kind of bovine.” “What?” replied Kitty, annoyed. “It’s gum.”

“It is distracting,” said Sable.

“Yeah, it’s annoying,” added Thrax. “Shut yer mouth.”

“Got a question, boss.” Kitty blew a bubble at him until it popped. “How do I get out of this outfit?”