Page 30 of Alien Peacock

A bullet slams into the hull, leaving a hole in the outer layer.

“Get in!” I tell Maeve and try to grab her from behind me to shove her to safety inside the ship.

She grabs my hand and pulls me along. “You too!”

The aliens are standing still now, just a few paces away, aiming carefully with one gun each. The shots come fast, and I fully expect to be hit. But as I throw myself backwards to be a smaller target, I notice none of the bullets hit any of us.

I try to make my backwards fall less hard, because I suspect Maeve is right under me.

The door hisses shut, and the ship starts moving.

“Could you get up?” Maeve asks, her voice tight. “My leg…”

I quickly get to my feet and help her up, running my eyes up and down her to check for injuries. “Better than a sharp elbow. Are you all right?”

“I'm fine,” she says and checks me out. “They shot so much, I was sure they'd hit you!”

I look down my front, but there's no holes anywhere. “It seems they're worse shots than should be possible.” I spot the furry robot and give it another look. “But there may be an explanation.”

Maeve looks around the space we're in. There's bare, rusty metal everywhere, and the smell of garbage is noticeable. “What kind of ship is this?”

“It is what it smells like,” I tell her as I make my way forwards, towards the cockpit. The walls are moist with condensation, and it's clearly a hauler that's been in constant use for years.

The cockpit is just as functional, with bare metal everywhere, scuffed and worn where the paint is flaking off. The control panel is a patchwork of mismatched buttons, levers, and displays. Several warning lights are flashing, but none of them seem critical. There are signs of hasty repairs everywhere. The lighting is dim, and outside the main viewscreen there's only the stars of empty space.

“Is this the best you could find?” I ask. “Not that I'm surprised that a trash can would pick a trash hauler.”

Cerak is standing on the deck at the pilot's seat, his single metal arm attached to a port on the console. “It's the only ship we found without a difficult central computer. And it's in perfectly good shape where it counts. My well-known affinity for other parts of the recycling industry barely had anything to do with my choice. About twenty percent, I'd estimate. Thirty at the most.”

“We did get out of that station without getting shot down,” I concede, “so it's clearly faster than it looks. I heard you were able to cooperate with that furry robot back there.”

“'Cooperate' is not the word I'd use,” the trash can-shaped robot says. “Anywhere in particular you want to go? Or perhaps any destination is as good as any other, since you clearly didn't find the archmagus here.”

I grab the pilot's seat and shake it, finding that it's well attached to the deck. “Ididfind him. He's been dragging us through space with him, so that he could be convinced that I want the job enough. In the end he made Maeve and me go through several of those deadly experiments for his entertainment.”

“Ah. But he's nothere. So with my superior, processor-based intelligence I shrewdly conclude that he doesn't want to help.”

“I don't know,” I confess. “It was hard to get a straight answer out of him. But he didn't say no, exactly. So there's still a chance. He wants us to go to Sprenk. But first we’ll go to Gigori and see if we can prepare some other way of saving our planet from certain doom.”

“To just straight-up kill Buroteo and free your people,” Cerak says flatly. “It's what I suggested some time ago. It would have saved us a lot of effort. But you insisted on doing things the legal way. Which is usually the slow and wrong way, in my opinion.”

“And we're still aiming for that,” I tell him as I sit down, finding that this seat is much more comfortable than in my previous ship. “But we just want to have a plan B.”

“That’s always a good idea, even ifthisplan B really should be plan A.”

I get back up. I can’t relax knowing that Maeve is back there. The mere thought about that jungle experiment sends heat to my crotch. “I will leave the flying to you for now, Cerak. And thanks for getting this ship and rescuing us. I'm not sure we would have made it otherwise.”

The robot turns his sensors towards me as if surprised. “You know that's my pleasure, Arelion. I knew that I would be no use to you in the space station once you aggravated that gang, so I decided to do the most important thing and secure your escape. Along with Bari, I suppose. That little robot has a lot of secrets.”

“I think I can guess about one of them,” I state as I leave the cockpit and make my way back.

Maeve and the furry robot have found the ship's lounge.

It’s surprisingly large and airy. The metal walls are hidden with heavy drapes in deep red, there’s a badly worn carpet on the floor, and the furniture consists mostly of big, green cushions with fringes everywhere. There are two small portholes in the walls, showing the stars of space outside. An elaborate lamp with hundreds of small light points hangs from the ceiling. It has to be an antique and may well be quite valuable.

Maeve is examining a panel on the wall, and my eyes are drawn to her feminine shape. Now that I know what’s under that jumpsuit, her allure is even stronger. But now it’s not because of a crazy amount of pheromones in the air. Now it’s all real.

I lean my shoulder on the doorframe. “I never knew anyone who attracted trouble the way you do.”

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