Sleepy Time for Captain Eris

By Margret Treiber

Captain Eris, AKA Death Engine, former military DNA tweak, and mercenary is unexpectedly pulled out of her retirement in Champion Acres and dragged back into it all by an idiot in a mech suit.

Feeling pissed off and miserable about losing her retirement lifestyle and subsequently, her chances of dying of old age; she searches for the reasons why she was reactivated. With the help of her old friend Al, an incognito artificial intelligence; and Om, a twenty-something emo tweak-girl, she discovers a plot that goes a lot deeper than losing her death. And in doing so, she finds a reason to survive.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fiction4All
• Release date: Jul 31, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005646875

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SLEEPY TIME FOR CAPTAIN ERIS

Margret A. Treiber

Published by Fiction4All (Double Dragon Books imprint) at Smashwords

Copyright 2018 Margret A. Treiber

This Edition: 2021

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Part 1: Beginning is easy; continuing is shit.

Chapter 1

Another concussive blast connected with my head; I felt my skull fracture. I was in the air, weightless, free. Then there was a wall. Wall and pain. My neck crunched as it jammed up into my cranium.

I tried to laugh at my assailant, tell him his attack was meaningless. Instead, all that came out was, The palmetto bells watusi da da da down wub. Great. Freaking brain damage. Not painful, just verbally inconvenient. I gazed up at the hazy visage of RoboBash’s metallic face shield. It should have been smooth, with a mirrored finish. However, it warped itself into a lumpy mass, slowly melting out of my field of vision until there was nothing but blackness.

At first, there was nothing. Only darkness accompanied me. Then the heavens expanded into my reality. It blossomed from a single blue-green dot into a perfect tropical seashore.

The ocean waves caressed my toes, as the sun warmed my tired bones. I opened my eyes and gazed upon the flawless paradise. I yawned the clean, fresh breeze into my lungs. I sat up and enjoyed the tranquility of the moment. It had been so long.

Down the beach, a man waved to me from a distance. So familiar. I knew him but couldn’t place him. It had been so long. He grinned and waved, as a halo of late afternoon of sunlight bathed his body. Don’t look at the light, I reminded myself. Never look at the light.

But I did. I gazed upon it, his body, the light. The radiance of the blue sky contrasted the warm, intense luminance. The fierce glowing seduced my eyes. The blue faded to sapphire, then indigo, then oblivion. The man dissipated, partially absorbed by the brilliance, the rest of my tropical paradise joined the void of nothing. I tried to avert my eyes, but there was only the light. The awesome, spectacular light, called to me, drawing me in, suffocating me. Tired of fighting, I let go, releasing myself to the universe’s will. So peaceful, drifting, warm. So temporary.

*CRACK*

The light shattered as RoboBash’s left fist pulled back from his most recent skull fracturing blow.

Ha, ha! he mocked. Puny one, maybe a little overrated. Now I send you into the light

My eye twitched open a moment; long enough to see RoboBash flex his body, wind up his final blow, and declare his victory.

Nobody can defeat me, he shouted to the cosmos.

My body seized. Robo laughed at what he perceived to be my death throes. He was wrong. I was done dying. The sensation of bone knitting, flesh regenerating, antibodies attacking, tore at my nerve endings. Then a new sensation compounded the agony; millions of microscopic shocks coursed across my body.

Robo’s right fist connected to the left side of my face, just as an electric field swaddled me. His robotic fist sprayed white-hot sparks. He yelled in surprise.

What?

The light is a lie, I panted. It only brings you back.

Robo snarled and examined his shorting appendage. You were dead.

Yeah. I stood up, hearing my bones snapping back into place as I moved. That. Someone set you up, buddy. There’s only one way to kill me, and nobody has the patience.

RoboBash shook his head. I am not a patient man. You will die now. Again.

See, this is what I’m talking about, stop—

Robo wound up for another frontal assault. His fist didn’t connect before he was struck by another sphincter-loosening surge of electricity. Apparently, I had acquired electrical abilities this time, and Robo needed to eat less cabbage.

I executed the best saunter I could, given the tremendous pain I was in. I stood over RoboBash, acrid smoke billowing from his torso. He was clearly conscious, but not moving anytime soon. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a handful of crumpled cash coins. Dropping the money at Robo’s feet I taunted him. Here, buy yourself a surge protector. I staggered away; the acrid smell of electrified flesh almost overwhelming the soft floral scents of paradise that still teased my senses.

***

The media wasn’t kind to RoboBash. Headlines like Robo Bashed by Elderly! and Taking out the RoboTrash spammed the internet. I felt a twinge of regret, but then again, I hadn’t actually done anything but not stay dead.

I left the Acres in a hurry, with only the clothes on my back and my stash of cash coins. I headed back to the old neighborhood since there was no longer any reason to lay low. It wasn’t a long transit ride, and I had the transit car pretty much to myself. I took advantage of the quiet to try to center myself and focus, but it wasn’t working. My body chemistry was still jacked up from the regeneration. I felt like crawling under a rock and dying. Plus, the anxiety from the unknowns ricocheted through my mind. I couldn’t find space in my head to retreat to, no place to find peace. Why the attack? Why now? What would be my next move?

This time, I had dug in someplace relatively local. Everyone expected me to change continents, or even go off-world, after what happened. I knew that hiding nearby would throw them off. And it worked for a while, maybe even longer than I expected.

The transit terminal was surprisingly clean. It was modern and shiny like it had just recently been remodeled. I looked around for anything familiar, a reminder of the old days, but there was only new. I was the relic, the twenty-something in old lady clothes.

I ducked into a CheapTree and grabbed some generic pants, a couple of t-shirts, a backpack, and some basic toiletries. I paid and then changed in the store bathroom. I felt a pang of sadness as I discarded the torn, fuzzy, pink, cat sweater. My neighbor, Dori, had made it for me for my birthday.

Stepping out into the city, I was struck by the sounds of people. I took a moment to breathe in the activity. It did feel good to be back. The buildings remained as I remembered. The majority of the changes were in the people. There were fewer of them than I remembered. There was also a heaviness about them. The accessories, the clothing styles, the popular store chains, the posters, and signs; all a little bleaker, emptier. The times had changed, even if the basic architecture had not.

When I had gone under, the cultural vibe was positive, bright, and optimistic. I found myself stunned by the negativity, the darkness of contemporary culture. I had escaped it for some time, living in my sheltered community, enjoying blissful ignorance. Now, the media spoke of impending doom, and the downfall of civilization as we know it. Signs screamed slogans like ’Vote with Your Coin, Don’t buy Earth Goods’ and ’Life on Earth Equals Death". It was somewhat of a downer.

Eris, a male voice called from behind me. Is that you?

Depends. I spun around. Who’s asking?

It’s me. The man pointed at his chest. Tyler.

Tyler. I studied the lines in his face, his graying hair. Wow, last time I saw you, you were like—

—twenty-two, Tyler interjected. I was a Junior Legionnaire.

Yeah. I nodded. It was a while ago. So, what are you up to now?

Oh. Tyler shrugged and looked down at the sidewalk. I’m out of the business. I’m in insurance now.

Insurance. I laughed. Shit, there has to be a joke in there somewhere.

Tyler grinned. Yeah, I supposed there should be.

Yup, I said.

So, I saw what happened with RoboBash the other day. Sorry.

Yeah, that was unfortunate.

How long did you make it this time?

About thirty-three years. Not the longest, but close. They always suck me back in.

Who? The Nod, People Prime?

Don’t know, I answered. Could be a new player this time. You never know.

True. Tyler looked down again and sighed. Does it still hurt bad, like it used to? Did it get better with time, like you hoped?

I shook my head. No, still sucks donkey dong.

Tyler laughed this time. Sorry…

...no it’s cool. I can’t get used to it, but I can have a sense of humor about it.

So, electric stuff this time?

Ayup, I replied. I feel all tingly now.

Well, try not to destroy the power grid.

I’ll consider your suggestion.

See you around? Tyler asked. I still pop into Spaz sometimes.

It’s still there? Al still running it?

Al still owns and runs the place.

Maybe I’ll check it out.

Cool. Tayler waved. See you later then.

I watched him walk off and tried to calculate the years. What happened when? How did it get so complicated? My recent brain injury wasn’t helping my memory.

***

Spaz was a unique place. The place itself wasn’t strange. In essence, it was just a bar that sold food. It was the clientele that made it different. Some called it a tweak bar, it was populated by the genetically modified, the engineered, and people who wished they were one of the two. It didn’t matter if you were good, bad, or indifferent. The only prerequisites seemed to be that you had a physical form and worked in the business. The management frowned upon physical confrontation within the establishment. This did not stop the more than occasional brawl, however.

Upon entering, it surprised me how little the place had changed in my absence. Same furniture, same lighting, same pictures on the wall. The row of slot machines that adorned the back wall remained. The only change was the picture of a smiling, old, Asian man above the machines.

I walked up to the bar and ordered a beer. I sat in a back booth and sipped. People buzzed around the place, but the crowd was thinner. I recognized a few faces, Sam the fixer, George, and Tye the henchmen for hire. They were older, but time had not changed their basic styles. You could see they were well established, but like the others, the facade was weak. They were all trying to look heroic, dangerous, fiendish, whatever their thing was, but they were stale. They were dry, day-old toast on my genetically altered breakfast table. I had already tasted the meal that they promised.

I turned my attention to what had the potential of a small scuffle. One guy was taunting another about some disastrous defeat, and the other guy was already drunk and belligerent. It had the makings of an early evening’s entertainment. The guy got in the face of the other guy and said something raucous about the other guy’s mother. The other guy turned purple and pushed the guy. The guy swung his arm back in a very telegraphed roundhouse punch. Just as his arm wound completely back, before he could release the strike, a large arm reached over and stopped it. It belonged to the owner, Al.

You need to leave, Al’s deep, mechanical voice stated.

Fuck off, robot, the guy said.

You need to leave, Al repeated. Now. Before I hurt you.

The guy looked into Al’s tarnished, metal face and backed down.

Thought so, Al said. He pointed at the other guy. You need to leave, too.

The other guy started to speak but thought better of it. He grabbed his coat and left.

That was very butch of you, I said.

There is a certain expectation of aggression I must maintain, Al replied.

It’s a good thing they don’t know that you don’t know how to fight, I whispered.

I know how to fight, Al replied. I choose not to.

Yeah, yeah, that’s what you say, but I never see any evidence to back it up.

Al shook his head.

You know I was enjoying that little spat. I was rooting for the drunk guy.

They were both drunk, Al replied.

I shrugged. Details.

Sorry for ruining your entertainment, Eris. Have to keep repair costs down.

I guess I can forgive you, this time.

It’s good to see you. He reached out to shake my hand. I pulled my arm back.

Not safe. I have some kind of electricity thing going on this time.

Al nodded and took a seat across from me. I saw the news feed.

Yeah, nowadays any freak can buy body armor and pretend to be a robot.

Yes, it seems that way. Have you slept yet?

I shrugged. I’ll get a room later. I’m okay.

You are a bad liar, Al said. I can see it in your face.

Yeah, and speaking of faces, I see you’re showing yours now. Did you finally come out of the mainframe?

Al shook his head. I was severely injured in combat, and rebuilt with industrial parts.

Ah, that’s the spin, I said. And people buy it?

Why wouldn’t they? Al asked. They have no reason to question it.

I took a sip of beer. Heard about Ji-hoon awhile back. Sorry. I didn’t know him well. He seemed like a nice old man.

Al made a noise that sounded like it meant to be a laugh. Ji-hoon was never a nice old man. He had a tendency to find trouble, he womanized, and he gambled a little more than he should have. But he was brilliant, and a man of honor. And he was my father.

I’m sorry…

...don’t be. I am merely expressing my feelings on the matter, not voicing objection to anything you said. I don’t often have a chance to share my honest self anymore.

Are you okay?

"Physically, I am functioning satisfactorily. I’m still getting used to living