Four For Elba

“Can’t you loosen these cuffs, Robert? They’re cutting off my circulation,” Cisco McGraw grouses.

Robert’s steely blue eyes crinkle in frustration. A herculean seven feet tall, the immense A.I. security guard has the rugged features of a no-nonsense jailor. By contrast, Bridget, the Aeolus’ A.I. pilot, has the silken redhaired appearance of a hip twenty-something. But like Robert, she will not deviate from her mission to bring her passengers to the prison planet Elba.

“Per EarthWorld Security’s rules of incarceration, all prisoners must be held in restraints during transit,” Robert says dryly. “As I said before, the restraints adhere to your hand shape and size. Therefore, they are a perfect fit for you.”

“…Brow beating bucket of bolts…,” Cisco mutters. Patting down his stylish dark hair, he adjusts his sunglasses.

“There’s no give in Robert or Bridget,” Delmont Dawson notes. “We built them too well. I ought to know. I was part of the design team.”

“So, I have you to thank for this.”

The grey-haired former Director of Gollum Research quietly agrees. “Yes…I sacrificed my family and my youth to create artificial machines that could take the burden of mundane chores away from humans, hoping we could advance civilization. But the government perverted my dream. Instead of utilizing my robots as librarians, cooks, bus drivers, or truckers, they turned them into weapons.”

“Then they should have given you a medal, not a prison sentence,” Cisco replies.

“They would have, if not for Leif…”

***

Delmont closes Leif’s skull cap, descending from the ladder.

General Helmut Hague and his two aides, Captains Ross Rabin and Elizabeth March, nod approvingly.

“He’s almost ready.”

“Almost?” General Hague challenges. “Put him online. The Chinese have developed an army of super soldiers and are on the verge of deploying them against our ally, Taiwan.”

“I should run a few more diagnostic tests. I want to be sure we can control him. I need a few more days.”

General Hague’s granite features redden. “Did you hear me, Dawson? Turn the freak on.”

Delmont presses the remote-control button, activating Leif. The twelve-foot, metallic robot’s legs creak as he steps off his regeneration pad.

“We’ve set up some dummy tanks, buildings, and other obstacles for it to destroy in the field,” General Hague says. “Let it loose.”

The laboratory’s sliding door opens. Leif trudges outside, heading toward a row of unmanned tanks.

“He’s kinda slow and clunky,” Captain Rabin notes.

“It won’t matter much if his laser array works,” General Hague replies.

Leif’s visor opens. A beam of concentrated energy melts the tanks.

“Excellent. Now the buildings,” General Hague commands.

Leif lumbers toward a pair of makeshift buildings.

Delmont maneuvers Leif in front of the first building. Leif swats at the structure, turning it into rubble.

“Again!” the General demands.

Leif moves to the second building. Drawing back his mighty claw, he freezes.

“What’s going on? Destroy it!”

Delmont speaks into the remote control’s speaker, pleading with Leif to move, but the giant robot remains still.

General Hague swipes the remote control from Delmont, frantically pressing all of the buttons.

“DON’T DO THAT, SIR!”

Leif springs to life, turning toward the General and his aides.

Delmont runs for cover behind a nearby tree. General Hague and his aides remain motionless, paralyzed by fear.

Leif swats them aside like a scythe cutting through wheat.

General Hague’s broken body hits the tree, coming to rest beneath it.

Leif bounds off. Moments later, the sound of screaming men forces Delmont to cover his ears.

***

“It took two Thermobaric bombs to stop Leif. By then, he’d killed over two hundred soldiers and vaporized half of Dale County. Another two thousand souls on my hands...”

“Yep. That qualifies for a life sentence on Elba.”

“And what about you?”

Cisco smirks. “I’m the reason we didn’t colonize Mars…”

***

Mars Mission Commander Cisco McGraw looks out of the ship’s porthole at Mars’ striking red and blue sky.

“…Angry, like the god of war…”

Lieutenant Gwen Godot reports that the rover is ready for deployment.

“Good. It’s just you and me, Gwen. The others can wait here until we’ve established diplomatic relations. We don’t want to rile our hosts.”

The rover pauses outside the Martian city.

The pair crane their necks, looking at the crystalline, spired skyscrapers and flying vehicles circling the city.

“This is where the signal came from, inviting us to meet with them,” Gwen comments.

A blinding beam of light invades the rover, followed by a high-pitched sound that sears through their brains. Bleeding from their nose and ears, Cisco and Gwen wail in pain.

The rover begins to come apart. The windows shatter, exposing them to the poisonous atmosphere. Bolts, screws, and equipment fly past Cisco’s bewildered expression.

“They’re attacking us!” Cisco shouts.

Cisco turns to see that Gwen has a large shard of glass protruding from her forehead.

Cisco fires the rover’s laser cannon, obliterating one of the crystalline structures.

A horde of creatures charges the rover. Cisco fires frantically, taking down a dozen of the creatures before they surround the rover, tearing off the doors and capturing him.

Cisco gasps at the sight of their captors.

The Martians are horned creatures with sharp teeth, bat-like wings, and serpentine tails.

“The Martians are devils!” Cisco shouts as two of the Martians haul him away.

***

“I didn’t know that they were scanning us,” Cisco says. “And they didn’t realize they were harming us. I killed almost two dozen Martians. They killed all of the men in my crew and destroyed my ship. I had eight female crew members as well. They… used them…”

“What do you mean?”

“One of the reasons the Martians contacted us was because their race was dying out. They’d planned to strike up an agreement with us to supply them with surrogates. Once I’d killed some of them, their request turned into a demand. To prevent a war we couldn’t win, Earth agreed they could keep the female members of my crew. Martians and humans are not physically compatible. How do I know? They made me watch. Then, as a final punishment…”

Cisco’s restraints tighten as he struggles to remove his sunglasses.

He has no eyes.

“Earth wants to make sure I stay silent about the incident on Mars, and what the Martians look like, so here I am, on my way to Elba.”

Delmont turns to the two women sitting behind them. One is frail-looking, dazed, and has her grey hair tied back in a bun. The other, a twentyish brunette, has an apple-shaped face, sharp blue eyes, and an air of confidence that says she’s unique.

“How about you, ladies? What are your stories?”

The grey-haired woman gazes at Delmont, her eyes swimming in her skull.

“Her name is Florence Peabody. I’m Petula Powers,” the young woman says. “Robert said Florence has Alzheimer's.”

“…I’m sorry…,” Florence murmurs. “…I don’t know who you are…”

“That’s all right, Florence. And what’s a young lady with the promise of life still ahead doing on a prison ship?”

“I’m blessed or cursed with clairvoyance,” Petula replies. I was useful to the government when I predicted the earthquake in Utah and the San Miguel oil disaster.”

“What went wrong?”

“My last prediction was the death of President Ventura.”

“Well, you were spot on with that one.”

“The President’s cabinet was worried they were next. I took drugs that dampened my ability to see into the future, and refused to help them...”

“…So, they put you on a ship to Elba…,” Delmont concludes.

***

Bridget studies the Aeolus’ control counsel.

“We are receiving a distress signal from the Andromeda Galaxy.”

“We do not have any bases or ships there,” Robert replies. “But our programming compels us to respond.”

***

The Aeolus pulls alongside a worn, cigar-shaped vessel.

Florence gazes out of the porthole at the Cerus.

“…I remember…I’ve seen that ship before...”

“Our scan indicates there are three humans on board,” Bridget says to Robert. “The Cerus’ life support system is failing.”

“…Help us…,” a voice pleads through the communication system.

“Prepare for transport,” Robert replies.

He turns to the prisoners. “Stay seated.”

“It’s not polite not to stand when you receive visitors,” Cisco retorts.

The forms of three heavily armed, burly, bearded men appear before them.

One of the men immediately vaporizes Robert with a ray gun.

Bridget reaches for the ray gun on her belt as a laser blast from the second man obliterates her.

“Looks like we fell victim to an old trick,” Delmont says.

“That’s right, Mr. Dawson. We faked the damage to the Cerus,” the largest intruder replies.

“You know who I am?”

“We know who all of you are. Especially that one.”

All eyes focus on Florence.

“… I remember…” she says quietly.

“I would think you would, you old cutthroat... We’ll let you all out of your restraints if you promise to behave.”

“Maybe we should keep Mrs. Peabody in her cuffs,” the second man says.

“I’ll behave,” Florence replies. “Scout’s honor.”

The third man carefully burns the restraints off the prisoners with his ray gun.

“For the unenlightened, I’m Hector Hunt, and these are my two brothers, Ajax and Achilles. I used to have two more brothers, Priam and Ulysses, but this innocent-looking matron of mayhem killed them. We’re bounty hunters, and we tracked Florence to Sirius. All we had to do was follow the trail of bodies. You see, folks, Florence Peabody is the galaxy's deadliest contract killer.”

Petula springs to Florence’s defense. “You’re making a mistake. This kindly woman couldn’t harm a Venetian flea. She can barely remember her name.”

“That’s because we shot her full of a trance drug before we tried to transport her,” Hector says. “She got loose, killing Priam and Ulysses before she escaped. But she ran into the hands of the Intergalactic Police before we could capture her again. Now we’re going to steal her back and get a fat reward.”

“Pardon me, but I don’t see it,” Cisco says.

Ajax waves his hand in front of Cisco’s sunglasses. “That’s not all he don’t see.”

“Very funny, Commander McGarw,” Hector says, scowling.

“It’s impossible for Florence to have killed a man,” Delmont insists. “She’s too feeble. I don’t see how she did it.”

“LIKE THIS!” Florence shouts.

Launching herself at Hector, she pulls him into a headlock. He tries to get free as she tightens her grip, his face turning blue.

Florence twists Hector’s neck. The snapping of his bones makes a nauseating, crackling sound.

Hector’s body slides to the floor.

Ajax and Achilles move to capture Florence. She kicks Ajax, shattering his kneecap. He falls to the floor, rolling in pain as he unleashes a bevy of curses.

Achilles lifts his ray gun, pointing it at Florence. She ducks its burst of fire. The laser blast hits behind her, melting a section of a nearby wall.

Florence kicks Achilles in the stomach. The force of the blow folds him in two, sending his ray gun flying in the air. Florence catches it, vaporizing Achilles.

Ajax looks up at Florence.

“…Mercy…”

“I’ll give you the same mercy you planned for me.”

Florence pulls the gun’s trigger.

His face etched in shock, Ajax disappears.

“So much for Scout’s honor,” Petula says.

“I was never a Girl Scout, but I am a tenth-degree black belt in karate.”

Delmont and Petula raise their hands.

“I’m reluctant to use the word mercy, but our fate is in your hands,” Delmont says.

“Put your hands down. I’m taking the Cerus as far away from Elba as I can get. You can come with me or stay on board and go your own way.”

“I think I’ll take my chances on this ship,” Delmont replies.

“I gotta go with the flow,” Cisco chimes in.

“Me too,” Petula adds. “No offense, Florence, but if the Hunt brothers followed you across the universe, there might be other bounty hunters close behind.”

“They’ll get the same treatment.”

“The planet Plutarch is only a few light-years away,” Delmont notes. “We can trade this bucket in for another ship…One thing before we go…”

“How did I become a contract killer? I was a church-going member of the P.T.A. in a small town in Arkansas. I didn’t kill my first victim until I was sixty-four…”

***

Perry Peabody’s stomach churns as he listens to Billy Joe Dahmer’s acceptance speech.

“I’m just a simple pig farmer, but you fine people have seen fit to re-elect me Mayor of Greasy Corners for a fourth time…”

“Well, he got the simple and pig parts right,” Florence says, patting her husband gently on the shoulder. “We’ll bring down Dahmer’s wall of corruption next time.”

Standing at the back of the hall with the Peabody’s son, Pearson, Dahmer’s eighteen-year-old daughter, Cookie, crooks her finger at Perry.

“She looks like the cat that ate the canary,” Perry observes. “Something must be up.”

Perry follows Pearson and Cookie into the town hall’s meeting room. The paper ballots cast in the election sit neatly in boxes.

“I don’t understand.”

“How many votes did you lose by?” Cookie asks.

“A hundred and ten.”

Cookie moves to a large safe in the corner. She turns the dials with the agility of a safecracker.

“Got the combination lookin’ over my poppa’s shoulder one day,” the freckled redhead says. “Thought it might come in handy someday.”

Cookie opens the safe, pulling out a burlap sack.

“Look inside,” Pearson urges.

“There are four hundred forty-one uncounted ballots in there,” Cookie says.

“Why are you doing this?”

Cookie and Pearson put their arms around each other.

“Poppa doesn’t approve of my friends. That cuts both ways.”

***

Perry convinces the editor of the Greasy Corners Gazette to give him space for an article in which he accuses Billy Joe Dahmer of stealing the election. The following day, as the Peabodys are walking through town, a large number of people honk their horns at them in a show of support.

“And that was the last time I saw either of them,” Florence says. “Dahmer owned a pig farm. I told the Sheriff to search it, but he quaked in his Dr. Shoals at the mention of Dahmer’s name. So, I went out to Dahmer’s farm to confront him. He bragged that he’d killed Perry and Pearson, and fed them to his pigs… Then he took out a gun, pushed it across his desk, and dared me to shoot him. I can still see the look of shock on his face when I put a bullet between his eyes. I dragged his fat carcass to the pig pen. The mistake I made was leaving my fingerprints on the gun... I learned karate while I was in jail. The guards figured, she’s an old woman, it’ll just help keep her in shape… It came in handy when they tried to transport me to another facility, leaving me with only two guards. When I escaped, I profited from my talent.”

Delmont gulps. “Remind me to stay on your good side.”

***

Under Cisco’s direction, Delmont and Petula fly the ship toward Plutarch. Halfway there, several lights on the control console begin to flash.

“My power of pre-cognition hasn’t returned, but I don’t need it to know we’ve got a problem,” Petula says.

An alarm sounds.

“System failure. Loss of pressure, deck one, section thirty-one,” the flight computer warns.

“That’s the area that Achilles’ ray gun blast hit,” Delmont says somberly. “We’ve got to put down somewhere… and soon.”

“We’re in luck. There’s a small planet, Morta, nearby,” Petula replies. “Our sensors indicate it has an oxygen atmosphere, and there’s life on it, too.”

The ship sets down on Morta. Within minutes, an extravagant rover resembling a tricked-out muscle car rides out to the ship.

Two identical, bearded twins step out. One is wearing a fez. The other, a helmet with white feathers. Both are wearing long velvet robes that make them look like outer space pashas.

“Welcome to Morta. I’m Manny Morta, and this is Moe. You look a bit done in by your landing. Come with us, we’ll have some dinner.”

“Our experiences with brothers haven’t been very good,” Cisco warns.

“We don’t have much choice. We need help to get the Aeolus airborne again,” Delmont answers.

***

The travelers are impressed with the brother’s opulent surroundings. Rare paintings and tapestries decorate the walls, and the floors are covered with thick Persian rugs and animal skins.

The Morta brothers serve the crew an exotic meal on shiny silver platters.

“Tastes like meat,” Petula says.

“It is,” Moe chirps.

“You have carnivores on this planet?” Delmont asks.

“No. We import our meat,” Manny responds.

“You seem to have done very well in this distant environment.”

“We’re millionaires several times over,” Manny replies.

“What is it you do?” Petula asks.

Moe smiles proudly. “We deal in body parts.”

Cisco spits out his mouthful of meat.

Reaching into their robes, the Mortas pull out ray guns.

“Boy, I really wish my cognitive powers were working,” Petula comments.

“Relax. The sedatives in your champagne will soon render you immobile,” Manny says. “The dissection won’t hurt a bit.”

“Great. I already can’t see. Now I can’t move,” Cisco jests.

Delmont tries to squirm but can’t. “What you’re doing is barbaric.”

“No, necessary,” Moe responds.

“We demand you set us free!” Petula says angrily.

“She’s spirited,” Manny notes. “Don’t get too excited. It makes the heart beat faster, which makes it harder to preserve the flesh.”

“You’re going to be in trouble if you don’t let us go,” Cisco says seriously.

Moe lets out a triumphant guffaw. “Threats from a blind man. These Earthers are feisty.”

“He’s right,” a voice from the end of the room says.

“Florence!” Petula gushes happily.

“I felt guilty leaving you neophytes behind, so I doubled back… Set them free!”

Manny dissolves into uncontrollable laughter. “Or what?”

Florence assumes a fighting stance.

“OR THIS!”