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Metallic Genealogy

The Fanzer Stip Trilogy

Metallic Genealogy:

A Faint Glimmer of Metal

by Stuart Bedlam

Chapter 06: Jeeps

<= Chap 5 : Chap 7 =>

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06: Jeeps


"First milligatrade," Jeeps said into her microphone, referring to the scout ship the general insisted on sending over to the derelict. "Do you pick up any life readings?"

"No, ma'am," a voice crackled over the intercom. "The whole ship looks dead. No lights. No movement. It doesn't even appear to be drifting anymore."

"Hold for orders, first milligatrade."

Jeeps had her doubts about this ship. No one ever came to this part of the galaxy anymore. She was also fairly certain, if she was remembering her basic laws of universal travel correctly, that once an object in space was set into motion than it was always in motion.

This fact led to two possibilities: The object was never in motion in the first place, or something had purposefully stopped it.

"How soon until you're upon it?"

"About one-point-five retici, ma'am."

"Have fighters keep close until your men are ready to board, and then initiate the Boakst Formation once you're inside."

"Yes, ma'am." The voice on the other end shut off, and only static leaked through the white grate tucked neatly above her. It was a noise that suddenly made Jeeps' nerves want to crawl into a hole.

She studied the screen. The blue dot (retriever ship) was followed by five red dots (fighters), and the white...

"What'cha doing, mister Jeeps," said a clumsy voice over the control-panel operator's shoulder.

Jeeps jumped and spilled coffee onto the button board, causing a few sparks to fly and the screen to fail. The young officer might have been mesmerized by the display had she not been so upset with the moronic janitor.

Biz-me, a faulty organic-based android, was a creature who possessed such ineffable qualities as the ability to leave an unidentifiable but semi-sticky film on every surface he set his mop to, as well as a talent to appear out of nowhere and startle those deep in thought, stood smiling. Also among his failings was an inability to reconcile a woman in the uniform of an officer.

"Biz-me! Look at what you did!"

"I didn't..."

"Well, you made me do it." Jeeps was furious. “And I've told you a thousand times to address me as ma'am. Not, mister or sir!

Biz-me displayed an expression which made him look both curious and extremely dumb at the same time. "I was just sweeping by you, and..."

"Go away!"

"...And was wondering..."

"I said, Go AWAY!"

"...What you were..."

Jeeps pulled the broom from Biz-me's hand and hit him with it.

The man, for want of a better word, let out a cry.

Jeeps hit him again, and again. "Well, at the moment I'm hitting you with a broom handle."

"Oh," Biz-me said, showing once again his curious but idiotic expression. "How's the pay?"

Jeeps pointed in the distance, and chose her words carefully, and expressed them both loudly and explosively. "Listen to the words coming from my face area. GO AWAY!" She handed the janitor back his broom.

"Thanks, " Biz-me said, sunny once again. "I can use one of these. I'm a sweeper-upper." He accepted the bristly gift, turned away and began to push little piles of dirt down another part of the room, singing a camp song about bees that sting and bears that maul.

Jeeps tried her best to blot out the sound with her hands.

Once Biz-me had finally drifted far enough away, Jeeps attempted to fix the damage on the switch board: an act which involved no more technical skill than wiping it with a towel.

Suddenly a voice came through the white grate.

"We have arrived at the ship, ma'am!" Should we proceed inside?"

"Er,...Okay!” she said. “Proceed with caution, first milligatrade."

The speaker paused, and Jeeps was afraid that Biz-me had knocked out the microphone as well. “Ma'am, are you sure that the general wants the attack team to proceed with the Boakst maneuver?"

"Yes...!" Jeeps picked up a combat book to check just what the Boakst maneuver was. "Why? Shouldn't he have?" she asked, quickly flipping through the pages.

"Ma'am...?"

Jeeps found the page. It appeared the Boakst maneuver was not as practical as she had thought. On the greasy pages of the Old Maneuver's Manual, Jeeps discovered that Colonel Cordell Boakst, who was quite taken with saucy beverages, had spent most of his glorious career doubled over in a heap. On the eve of the second anniversary of the 17th war of Pitspit (Cordell had fought it from the hors d'oeuvres table of Pasty Winker's fortieth birthday party) the colonel, thoroughly intoxicated, pranced in front of Queen Meebley's private coach and mooned the living daylights out of her.

"Er, belay that order," Jeeps said, closing the book and placing it carefully under her desk. "Just capture it but have the gunner hang back in case of attack!" Jeeps didn't think the squadron would do much good exposing themselves in the heat of battle.

"Yes, sir." The voice sounded relieved, but not very enthusiastic. "I'll return communications once we're aboard." The voice then cut off again and the static returned, along with Jeeps' withering nerves.

The towel, she was relieved to see, had done the job and soon the screen was back to its normal dot-producing self.

"What'cha doing, mister Jeeps," Biz-me said again, apparently forgetting his former visit and the trouble he had caused.

Without saying a word, Jeeps took one of her drafting pencils from her pocket and stabbed the idiotic janitor in the mid-section. But to her misfortune, as these things normally turned out during violent and aggressive acts, a ghastly mixture of oil and blood spattered out of Biz-me's chest and landed on her control board, causing the entire system to blank out once again.

"Ow!"

Jeeps pulled the pencil out and angrily handed it to Biz-me. "Here," he said. "This is for you."

"Hey, thanks," Biz-me said, beaming. He walked away, pulled a pad of paper from his pocket, and began to draw gaudy little pictures of himself and Jeeps dancing in the sunshine.

"First milligatrade...first milligatrade," Jeeps yelled frantically into the microphone. "Do you hear me? First..."

The static became louder but soon cleared enough for Jeeps to hear the scattered sounds of light fire and the moans from the general's dying crew.