Bems and Bugs: Lone Huntress, #2

By Patti Petrone Miller and Andrew L Miller

Bugs. Bugs can be a problem.

Sometimes they're tiny, small things that burrow where you don't want them to. Sometimes they're grotesquely gargantuan xenoarthopods that evolved in a gas cloud tens of millions of years ago, that come crashing through atmospheres to become invasive species. Sometimes they're humanoid abominations coordinating under the totalitarian control of a collective intelligence with the mentality of a creepy and petty stalker. Sometimes they're mechanical drones operated by criminals with malicious intentions.

Bugs can be a problem. Problems require solutions. For help with solving all your problems with bugs of every shape and size, contact your personal problem solver, Lisa Huntress. Recognized by the FIA for her work in exposing Fey operations. Discretion is our watchword, and results are assured.

To see some of the many sterling reviews left by satisfied clients, click here.

 

Appa was screaming. "What's going on?" Vic demanded, sounding even more terrified than Vionne felt. "Report? Appa? Chang? Jenette! Report!" Appa continued to scream, passionate but hardly articulate. "Jenette?" Vic repeated, and he was beginning to sound near to hysterics. "Chang!? Answer me!" "Jenette's dead!" Chang howled, barely audible over Appa's shrieking. "Something… something ripped her…" Appa finally ceased his howlings, now reduced to panting for breath as he sobbed and whined with each gasp. Chang repeated himself. "Something ripped her in half," he wailed in horror. "It… it's everywhere. Mā de, I can see her… her…" He sounded as if he were holding back vomit. Vionne felt the ice run down her spine. Chang was sobbing and gulping. Appa was whimpering. Finally, Peng spoke up. "Can you tell which way she went?" he asked. Vionne had wondered what Vic would look like if he ever stopped smiling. Now she finally knew. His vestigial rictus had finally collapsed entirely, as he screamed in shrill hysterics. "She's still in there, you idiots!"

• Language: English
• Publisher: AP MILLER PRODUCTIONS
• Release date: Jan 2, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215608425

Book preview

Chapter One

The devil is in the details. Whether it’s swordsmanship or coding, the devil is always in the details.

And perfection is never permanent. There’s always room for improvement. Artisans know this better than anyone. Never stop improving. Never settle for being the best, because someone else is already working to become better than you currently are. Never stop, never slow down. Never settle for anything less from yourself.

I went through the fencing drill in slow motion, focusing on my stance, my footwork. And most importantly, my bladework. My blade. My blade made by my own genius, crafted with my devilish attention to detail. How many hours I had spent forging it. A product of my hard won skill, the expertise that made me so very much in demand. How fitting that it should be my hand to wield it.

The magnificent blade of my beautiful sword shimmered with the reflected light from the midday sun, as it moved about in a lazy horizontal moulinet. I redirected the circular path into the perfect figure eight pattern of the drill, aiming a second cut for what would have been the temple of my opponent. Still I continued the circular moulinet movements as I lowered my arm ever so slightly, cutting at the left cheek, then the right. Down to cut the shoulders. The chest, on each breast. The stomach. The thighs. The twelve cuts as described by Sir Richard Francis Burton, as relevant today as they were millennia ago. Especially in my world, a world of my own making.

My form was perfection; my sword was not. That simply would not do. A flick of my wrist, a casual gesture to one of the sailors standing at attention aboard the deck of my ship of the line. A loyal subordinate waiting for my instructions with the inhuman patience of one not even remotely intelligent enough to be capable of experiencing boredom. He stepped forward smartly with the disciplined gait I’d taught him, then drew his own weapon and flowed into a fencing stance.

Now I only required a display window for him. Another gesture, a flick of my fingers, and the screen opened in the air to my left, floating in the wind next to its sibling. Text flowed in long streams, the arcane incantations of the truest of sorcerers: the software coders. Weavers of the source code. Sourcerers.

My blade moved for the initial cut to the forehead, and the sailor lifted his weapon to parry in proper form. And as soon as the blades met, I held up hand with palm outwards in the gesture to freeze. Of course he froze on the spot. I looked to the side, contemplating the lines of code in the window that represented my sailor. The lines of code that were my sailor. Next to it, in the other window, the lines of code that represented my sword hung in the air as ethereal glowing runes.

Now the moulinet and remise to the opposing temple, as the sailor, unpaused to continue the movement, parried once again. Once again I froze the action to peruse the code, glancing from one screen to the other. I could see how the code of my blade interacted with the code of my sailor. It was acceptable – but acceptable was never sufficient. Only exceptional would suffice. This... simply would not do.

Never settle for anything less than the best, from yourself.

But just last week I had patched my language with some new updates, and I could do better now than I had when I’d last polished my blade. I highlighted the relevant line of code, then edited it accordingly. Yes, a much more elegant instruction. Now to test it. Cut to the temple. Respond to the parry with a moulinet and remise. Pause to check the code.

Much better.

I continued to practice, working through the drills with the sailor until I was finally content. At least, for the moment. For the moment I was cutting edge, but once the next round of software patches tightened up the vulnerabilities I would have to hone my blade anew.

But then again, that was why the Captain kept the likes of Jacques Seagull around.

Disconnecting.

Jacques grunted wearily as he rose from his chair, feeling the inevitable fatigue that accompanied hours spent sitting still in even the most comfortable of furniture. First he reached overhead, reaching out as far as his arms would go to stretch out the kinks in his stiff muscles and joints. Then he reached back to pull the fabric away from where it had plastered itself to his backside.

Why do you wear that damned thing while you’re working?

The voice was a bit waspish, and quite high pitched. It was neither a soprano nor an alto, but rather a falsetto. A smooth falsetto, the kind of falsetto achieved through hours of practice to achieve a melodic and feminine speaking voice. Even with the annoyed, waspish tinge, it was still a delightful voice to be listening to. It was a voice far too feminine to belong to someone well over six feet in height and with broader shoulders than the man being addressed.

It’s a matter of style, Jacques retorted mildly, as he finished tugging his collared cape free from where it clung to the material of his trousers. Capes are stylish, Karen.

Capes are a pain in the ass, Karen said dismissively, though she at least paid him the courtesy of looking him up and down to appreciate the look of the garment. Anyway, aren’t you going to be a gentleman? she added impatiently. You’re not supposed to keep a lady waiting.

Jacques chuckled wryly as he straightened up to his full height before bending at the waist, bowing over Karen’s uplifted hand. I do apologize, my dear Karen, he murmured softly as he took her hand in his own, then dipped his head down to brush his lips over her knuckle.

Karen smirked in amusement at his antics. Apology accepted, Jocko mine. Shall we retire to the mess deck for some refreshment, then?

Yes, sighed Jacques in weary agreement, as he straightened up and maintained a gentle grip on her fingers, allowing her to use his arm to assist herself in rising up from where she sat. And with only a minimal amount of grunting as almost a hundred kilos of mass leveraged its way upwards.

Karen pretended not to have heard the grunting, as she turned and began to walk, leading the way as her broad, masculine hips swayed with an exaggerated sway. Jacques watched that rear, nodding judiciously. Karen was certainly doing a good job of making the most of what she had, when it came to presenting as female. Her rear actually looked somewhat enticing as it swayed its way down the corridor to the mess deck where food would be waiting. As would Li, the third hacker to be employed by the pirate ship proudly hailing itself as the Unexpected Charge.

Again with the noodles? Karen observed, noting the few lone stragglers remaining in Li’s bowl.

I just wanted something while I waited on you guys, Li replied defensively, the golden brown color of his round cheeks taking on a reddish tinge.

Eat, drink, and be merry, my friend, Jacques replied gaily, pulling out a chair and holding it for Karen. Once again Karen pretended not to hear the soft grunting as he helped to push her chair back in, as they both maintained the polite fiction that she was more dainty and feminine than the reality of her hated physique. What shall I fetch us? he inquired of her.

Bring me another bowl of the lo mein, while you’re at it, Li requested, peering down at the interior of his bowl, and the few survivors of his first helping. And maybe some gyoza.

Yeah, that sounds good, Karen agreed. Lo mein and gyoza.

Jacques swept a bow, his cape flaring behind him with the movement. Li had the good grace not to react to the flamboyant gesture; Karen rolled her eyes and glanced away. Not that Jacques noticed, having already whirled away to fetch a tray and accumulate a collection of noodle filled bowls and platters of meat filled dumplings.

How about some beer? Karen prodded him, while Li began snatching at bowls and plates to set at their places and leave the platter empty. And so Jacques turned away again, returning with a set of six pouches, placing two before each of his friends before sitting down to his own meal.

Mphh. S’wonderful, Karen muttered around a mouthful of noodles as she fell to without hesitation. Li too was greedily beginning to feast as if he hadn’t already had a helping. And Jacques was doing his best to avoid getting any sauce on his clothing. Fortunately for him, the mess deck was fully stocked with a full panoply of utensils, including the most ubiquitous of eating implements for space dwellers: chopsticks. The set carried by the Unexpected Charge were of the Arborettan style – popularized on the planet Arbor, with tips that broadened into flat little paddles rather than blunt points. Perfect for hoisting one of the gyoza from his plate to his lips, before he slipped the morsel into his mouth and began to delicately chew.

So what do you guys want to do after we eat? Li asked through slightly glistening lips, before shoveling up another mouthful of noodles to slurp up with gusto.

I was planning on checking out the new guys in the infirmary, Karen said, nibbling on a gyoza. Maybe they’re cute?

I hear one’s got scales, observed Li, his chopsticks searching for the last of the noodles in his bowl. And wings.

Sounds exotic, Karen purred, before popping the rest of her dumpling into her mouth.

Mmm, let’s go check them out together after this, Jacques suggested, wiping at his lips with a napkin. After all, they’re our new shipmates and all.

Just don’t get too weird at them, Li said, while reaching across the table to snatch up one of Karen’s gyoza with his broad tipped chopsticks. Either of you. We just got two doctors with actual medical degrees. Let’s not throw that away because someone got upset.

Karen sniffed and looked primly offended. Jacques merely pretended not to hear him. Li glared at them both, then popped the gyoza into his mouth, chewing emphatically at the pair. Then he repeated the process, because there was still more gyoza to emphatically chew upon.

Chapter Two

It was one thing to have medical facilities. It was standard for a space faring vessel to come with at least one auto-doc installed and kept in full working order. Larger vessels, particularly ones meant for transporting passengers, kept a suite of them properly maintained and certified under Federation law. But an actual ship’s physician was something else. Let alone two of them, currently appraising their new facilities. A pair of fully trained medical personnel was something commonly associated with luxury liners and military vessels. The crew of the Unexpected Charge had counted themselves fortunate indeed to have such fine new additions to their ranks.

One new addition to their ranks was on his hands and knees when the caped figure strode into the infirmary, leading his small cohort like the grand marshal of a parade. Happily, he avoided the cliché of banging the back of his head on the underside of the cabinets he was visually exploring, in response to the unexpected arrival. Unhappily, he spilled a few of the containers he’d been stacking within said cabinet. He crawled backwards and struggled to his feet, glancing nervously from one visitor’s face to the next. Uh... can we help you? he stammered hesitantly.

We came to say hello to our newest shipmates, the caped and mustachioed pirate declared, sweeping a gallant bow that made his cape swirl behind him. The doctor stared at this, his eyes goggling slightly.

My name is Jacques Seagull, the caped pirate went on smoothly, seemingly oblivious to the physician’s reactions. And my associates, Karen Abdul and Wei Li.

Call me Li, replied the short, slightly pudgy member of the group. He looked the doctor up and down, noting the similar physique in approval, and the inches of superior height with slightly less approval.

Yes. Er, I’m Doctor Kurz, and my associate is, er... Kurz glanced over at what looked like a lab coat draped over a large lizard, with a bat on its shoulders. It was presently wriggling over an auto-doc with an attitude of consternation.

Doctor Long, snapped the lizard, as the leather wings flapped lightly with his frustrated movements. He did not look up from his labors. Who is currently wondering what addle pated simpleton kept the software updated, but couldn’t think to do basic maintenance on the actual hardware. He yanked viciously at a component, tugging it free and holding it up to be regarded with contemptuous disdain.

That would be us, Karen snapped back, her tone frosty enough to cut through the reptile’s arrogance and send a chill down his spine. He stiffened and swiveled his long neck to look over at the imposing figure. Karen glowered right back.

Ah... the reptilian doctor appeared to be visibly rethinking his words. Well, I can appreciate the effort of handling work outside of your normal job description. You gentlemen certainly did an excellent job with the software...

Who are you calling a gentleman?

Doctor Long looked even more confused than before, at the venomous rage from the tall, masculine figure. And even more frightened. Kurz looked ready to climb inside one of the cabinets and hide. Both of them were frozen in the panicked state that came from knowing they were dealing with a ticking time bomb, and not knowing how to disarm it. Or even how to avoid setting it off.

It was time for a dashing rogue to be gallant. "The lady here was hoping you could provide her with a proper hormone therapy treatment, Jacques interjected, stressing the word lady as emphatically as possible. As a prelude to the eventual conversion...?" He let his words trail off suggestively, inviting the scaled doctor to decipher his meaning.

...Ah. The serpent glanced back at Karen, his long neck undulating with a sinuous movement as he looked her up and down. It seemed he had indeed decrypted Jacques’ intent. Yes. I quite understand. You are in luck; I am from Furcadia, after all.

Karen continued to glare, still very much prepared to explode all over the hapless physicians after their inadvertent insult. But Jacques knew her well enough to know to continue to speak on her behalf. Yes, you’re from the planet where everyone is born as a human child, he stated in slow, carefully enunciated tones, and reinvents themselves in adolescence. His brow arched as he stared into Karen’s eyes, letting her digest that much needed bit of exposition. Thusly, hoping to remind her of why she was there.

Doctor Long nodded his head slowly in acknowledgment. It took several seconds to do so, and his head traversed almost a meter of distance with the movement.

There you go, then! Jacques purred smoothly, reaching up to clap Karen on the shoulder. This fine scaled shipmate knows exactly how you’re feeling. Body dysphoria. He’s the perfect sort to help you.

...Er... yes, the serpentine necked doctor managed, though he still looked decidedly unhappy about the situation.

I’ll be happy to provide the initial treatments, Ms... Karen was it? Doctor Kurz spoke up, the pudgy little man holding up his hand as if they had asked for volunteers.

Abdul, Karen replied, looking slightly mollified now. Still close to exploding, but cooling down... slowly. Karen Abdul. After a moment, she added, You can just call me Karen.

All right then, Karen, Kurz replied, favoring her with a large, fatherly smile, as if he were a pediatrician with a child patient. If you’ll just come back once we’ve finished getting everything sorted, we can do your blood work and set up your treatment plan.

Karen’s eyes narrowed slightly at the fatherly smile, as if she were feeling patronized. Then her cheeks flushed at the mention of blood work. Can’t you just give me some damned estrogen? she demanded. And the hostile air about her was still very much present – and ratcheted back up, at the prospect of delayed gratification.

Kurz gulped, his cheeks paling. Meanwhile, Long appeared to have somehow slithered his way behind one of the auto-docs while no one had been looking; he was cowering behind it for cover. Li was favoring him with a contemptuous glance, his lips curled in the sneer of a very short man watching a much taller man display an amusing lack of spine when it mattered.

Despite his shorter stature and his deferential attitude, Kurz appeared to be the braver of the pair. I can hardly prescribe you hormonal treatments without establishing the baseline, he stammered in a quiet tone, all the more dignified for the undertones of repressed fear in his voice.

Jacques leaned over to murmur into Karen’s ear. He’s being a good doctor, Karen. You wouldn’t fault him for his professionalism, would you?

Karen bit her lip, trembling angrily, torn between the desire for instant gratification and the commonsense advice from her friend.

Instant gratification won out. I just want some damned estrogen...! she began to blurt out angrily–

And suddenly Li was in front of her, his head tilted back to glare up in her face and his chin pointed at her midsection. We’re the best at what we do, remember? he growled with a cracking whip in his tone. Or possibly the crack of his patience snapping. We don’t take shit from peons who think they know more about what we do than we do. His hand, thick as a ham hock and with fingers like sausages, shoved her in the belly as he forced her backwards. Let’s not pull that shit with them, ‘kay?

Karen looked as if she were ready to lash out with violence. But Li was not Long or Kurz, and he wasn’t budging. And Jacques’ hands were on both her shoulders as he grabbed her from behind, both men pulling her into backpedaling out of the infirmary. Very kind of you to help her out, Doctor, Jacques called out as they exited the infirmary. We’ll see you in the mess deck at mealtime!

Both doctors stared at the retreating trio as the door slid shut. Jacques was hardly surprised when, barely three seconds later, the readout on the door panel shifted from the green of an unlocked status to the red of a securely locked state.

What the hell, Karen!? Li seethed, still glaring up at her. I told you not to get all weird at them!

Karen shook Jacques’ grasp off with a violent shrug, glaring down at her friend. They were looking at me like I was some kind of freak!

Of course they were! Li snapped back, just as angry. "You are a..." He snapped his mouth shut, cutting off his retort.

It didn’t take much of an effort to mentally finish that sentence. Karen’s eyes welled up with tears as she stared down at him. Then she twisted away and flung herself down the hall, running away like a heartbroken maiden. There was a slight thudding noise when she bounced off a wall while turning a corner, heading for her personal quarters.

Jacques sighed heavily and looked at Li, and felt his own body sagging slightly. It caused his shoulders to slope downwards, a little less broad. And without his expression of habitual bravado, his mustache drooped and the face behind the facial hair looked... tired.

Li shoved his hands into the pockets of his jumpsuit. Sorry, he muttered, looking down at his feet.

Chapter Three

Jacques didn’t bother with the intercom, as most would. He was a hacker by trade and by inclination, and going places where he wasn’t necessarily welcome was what he did. If anything, it was a game for them; he and Karen and Li tended to regard locked doors as practice for more important hacks. It was all about gaining... access.

In the case of the lock, communicating with the device was not the issue; it was made to receive remote signals such as might be sent out by a key device. But the only signals it would respond to were commands matching the encryption key. Without the correct passcode, it wouldn’t open.

Bypassing that simple countermeasure was the real trick, and they each had their own favorite method of doing so. Karen’s preferred method was to create a glitch, bugging the lock into either dropping the delay between code verifications from several seconds to a few nanoseconds, or (preferably) confirming when a symbol was correct before checking the next (like picking an old tumbler lock, one tumbler at a time).

Li favored the screwdriver method: removing the cover plate with a hand tool and then playing with the hardware until the parts responsible for keeping the door locked were convinced that the parts responsible for granting access had received the correct signal.

But Jacques was a fan of the pickpocket method: obtaining the correct key in advance. Knowing ship regulations as well as he did, he knew it would be another two weeks before the captain changed the passcodes again. In two weeks Jacques would need to swipe another master key to unlock every door on the ship. Until then, he only needed to wave the little stick in the general direction of the door and let it slide open, revealing Karen’s quarters, and Karen herself.

It was even worse than he’d feared. Karen was glomming on the makeup again. That didn’t work so well for someone who was still leaking tears. Her cheeks and the area under her eyes looked as if she’d been stained with squid ink. Her lipstick was more or less passable, though she could benefit from some lip liner. Still, it was a horrid result. And she knew it, too. It’s not as if this stuff could make me less ugly, She sniveled, refusing to meet Jacques’ gaze even through the reflection of her mirror.

You’re not ugly, Karen... Jacques began, in as reassuring a voice as he could manage.

"Would you fuck me?" she snapped back.

He blinked, staring at her for a long moment. Then he took a deep breath, mustering up his wits to attempt a politic answer.

Too late, She sighed,