Hamster Kin
A Starshatter story
(Art source unknown)
My fellow Terrans, it is Terran-Tuesday and since you loved this little fuzzy fella so much, I am giving you another chapter :D
Enjoy!
Index: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8
Chapter 5
Gainer of attention
Holding his head Looc stood at the very center of his mecha garage.
“Do you even realize what have you done?!” – exclaimed he, eyes affixed at the gingerly floating about Hamster.
“Attention has been gained, good sir landlord. We can soon expect quite the predictable outcome of the interest acquisition process to unfold, and ‘tis not going to be one of the solace-able kind, if you catch my drift.” – the Terran giggled in reply, operating a tool which coated the edges of one of Looc’s mech rather horrid hull breaches with nanobots.
More confused than scared, the elderly shop owner found one of his new garage additions and sat, watching how the Hamster “stitched” damage turning bits of salvage into threads. Of modest quantity, these resources were soon all utilized and the Terran reached for his trophy cybernetic limbs, a happy smirk on his snout.
Indeed, these were the same ones he sliced off of the obnoxious thug when Bloop first visited this venue. When those were eventually used too, he stopped and, following a vigorous scan of the area, squeaked a suggestion:
“Dear sir landlord, and you, my good sir docker, would you say there are more gangsters hungry for... erm... undeserved monetary acquisition lurking in the vicinity?”
“Not of that one group you visited the club of earlier, no.” – explained Yuik, as he integrated the grav-crane into the garage’s main operation systems, adding – “But there is the second big gang which is near, three streets away to be precise.”
“Oh, no...” – gasped Looc, eyes wide and face pale.
“This is the second gang that this baddie claimed was backing him, right?” – asked Bloop and he had already stashed his tools and performed the necessary scans of Looc’s mech.
This time Looc sounded audibly terrified – “They hold the biggest employment gig in this part of town. People were disappeared just for asking questions!”
“Wait,” – squeaked the hamster as he approached his landlord, curious glints in his eyes – “you are to imply, my dear sir, that these persons are actually engaged in predation of everyday, hard working sentients?”
Looc’s face twisted in a grimace which showed the pain of one who knew people were suffering, yet was utterly helpless to do anything and help. The old man could simply sigh and blink a few times, which for the hamster was more than enough to translate into a yes. His landlord was able to keep his own friends and neighbors relatively safe, but barely.
“Locals find their way into their hands because they took a loan... or two.” – explained Looc and his voice faltered a couple of times before he can continue – “Many go to these loansharks and beg for money, because their family or friends are ill. Others got conned out of their modest earnings in one of the gang-ran gambling bars. Either way, when one signs that contract, they are pretty much doomed.”
Following a long stare between him and Looc, Yuik added – “As a docker, I have seen multiple shuttles and other transports ferrying naïve sentients here. Many have signed otherwise reputable-looking work contracts and they have no idea that these are fake. As soon as the gang gets their hands on them, they will make these innocent aliens do whatever...”
“I have a hypothetical question then.” – began the Terran, as he checked if some item was secure in the unfathomable depths of his ubiquitous backpack – “If sentients held by these persons were to be suddenly made free, say, by a wizardly super vigilante, could someone hide and feed them?”
“Only by the underground black market network.” – whispered Yuik and made some calculations on his device – “Though my fellow contrabandists would love to offer a helping hand, that would cost some coin.”
“Baddies will give us all the coin your goodun contraband carrying boyos need...” – said Bloop and waved his hand in the air as he held the tip of his hat – “and then some!”
</* * *\>
“We signed general contractor papers!” – loudly protested one alien man before a cyber-decked gangster sent him rolling on the dirty floor with a vicious punch in the gut.
The seedy room of this flattish building was full. Men, women, and youngsters, they all reeked of sweat and desperation. Packed like sardines, most of them had inevitably came to the realization that each and every hopeful promise of their contracts was a slick lie.
Many were lured by crafty holo-ads they found on G-Net. Entertained by the colorful, faked cozy holo-footage of a homely city and comfy workplaces, they invested their last dime just to cover the travel charge. Here, they were promised, existed the opportunity of a lifetime, there were well-paid jobs aplenty and best of all, life flowed at a most relaxed pace.
Those who knew even a tiny bit about the criminal world, they understood that there was no way to escape, but death.
“All females, move to the left cue.” – spat out one of the enforcers, a young man wearing corpo-fashion suit, sporting discrete cyber-gear.
“Undress at the scanner. Stay still while it takes holo-slides and do not move or cover yourself or...” – added the man with the most indifferent voice, his face unflinching, cyber-tech eyes clicking, as he checked for people above average, noting them in his digi-file.
Terrified, some attempted to leave the cue, yet were prodded with shock batons or roughly shoved back in their spot by a dozen strong group of gangsters. These specimens wore dirty clothing, looked nothing like the corpo-like administrator, but sported the exact same, indifferent mugs. No one here was anything more than a piece of meat, merchandise to be sold.
Cries of pain and whimpered pleas for mercy soon joined the stinky sweat and heat of this room, crushing the last vain hopes into dust. With screeching clanks, the gangsters’ cyber-gear ensured that those who dared nurture any thoughts of resistance could not act upon them. The crowd of unfortunate sentients was swiftly processed and those with greater value, separated from their parents, siblings, and spouses.
The suit-wearing Corpo observed as the predictable few and desperately pointless scuffles ensued, when these naïve sentients finally came to the realization that their family members were to be sold into slavery. Once, the OBP would ensure that all their enforcers were in possession of deception subroutines so they could lie to the merchandise, tell them it was a “temporary” separation.
Yet, these were the new times, the new order, and he simply linked the gangster cyber-brains another order, not bothering to speak it aloud.
“What was even the point...” – somebody’s squeaky voice close by repeated his own thoughts verbatim.
The Corpo froze.
His cyber-gear, perhaps some of the best in town, neither eyes nor ears could detect the presence of said person. Yet... the voice was definitely real and the thought that someone was inside his recently updated cyber-brain sent cold shivers down his integrated spinal augment!
“Not that shiny, this spinal stuff you’ve got, nor are them software updates that cool either.” – again squeaked the terrifying voice and the Corpo attempted to send a link for help.
“What is this, linking for help? Quite the misunderstanding, I say! A precious pile of salvage like you needs not stay in contact with some Obtuse Brainless Prunes.” – the same voice informed him and with quite the cheerful tone to boot.
The enforcer was genuinely unable to move! His cybernetic muscles, limbs, and otherwise most of his body, completely taken over. If only the link he sen...
“Oh, did you think that these OBP firewalls and guard-bots would protect you?” – now a waking nightmare, a fuzzy snouted visage snickered inside his brain.
Codes, drivers, and algos were swiftly replaced and some even rewritten as they ran idle. The Corpo’s and his gangster underlings now an ensemble of unmoving statues made of metal, vacfoam, and plastic. Some still sported their biological mugs and these twisted in terror. Those who had an eye left, they cried tears of fear for none of their nifty cyber-gear agreed with them!
Those about to be trafficked and otherwise locked somewhere, short lives of painful exploitation ahead of them, they watched stupefied, tiny slivers of hope sneaking back into their hearts. First one and then many looked to open the doors and leave, yet some thought aloud. They warned their fellow sentients that this entire city was a gangster infested, swarming with Corpo bootlickers, crap-hole.
“Dare I say, dear ladies and gentlemen, said infestations have lessened of late!” – squeaked a cheerful hat-wearing, cloaked figure and assumed a nigh ludicrous pose, exclaiming – “For it was I, the wizardly super vigilante, who enabled said lessening! I, who will deliver all of you, to cozy safety.”
Small, even compared to their children, the sentients first assumed that person was one of them. Somebody who’s mind broke during the realization of his soon-to-occur torturous enslavement. That he now spouted these fanciful words as a way to cope with the hopelessness of their combined fates. Thus, they whispered words of comfort, their hearts sorry for that small man since there were those among them visibly near their breaking point.
“I assure you, us Terrans are neither balmy, nor me, a Solace Tourist, coping with doom... possible or otherwise. Look for the doors, dear friends.” – the small man, who by his own admission was a Terran and a Solace Tourist, waved one of his little hands and all doors, previously locked tight, clicked open.
Everyone shared looks of disbelief and a few peeked, the more jaded of them expecting a group of Corpo security waiting them outside. Instead, there were a number of hooded, cloaked soldierly types, who guarded invitingly open and safety-promising manholes. Snickering with joy, the Terran danced around terrified cyborgs, casually stabbing some in their faces, yet leaving others untouched.
“Interferers of cozy tourist activities, interrupters of civilizational restoration, you will all be visited by wholesome doom!” – announced he as he addressed the goons and their Corpo boss.
“Now,” – added the Hamster, one hand pointing the paralyzed cyborgs – “I promised you safety, but you’ve got to do a little job for me. You will be compensated, housed, and well fed. Please, grab a pile of salvage and carry them underground!”
Some did not wait and, in groups of four proceeded to carry their incapacitated, incapable of resisting ex-owners outside. Others hesitated a minute or two, until the small Terran shoved glittering, newly-minted Taz’aran coin in their hands. With speed, those who had initially remained indecisive came to the aid of their fellows. In counted few minutes the entire gloomy, sweat-stinking room was made void of anything valuable.
Indeed, when OBP coppers arrived at the scene, they found an empty building. No matter how hard they scanned, searching for even the tiniest of clues, their cyber-eyes discovered none. All of note they found inside was a spray-painted stylized hat-wearing fuzzy snout, a bunch of crooked letters underneath which read:
“Bloop was here.”
(Art by Neutronboar)
Dear friends, if you like to support me and enable many a future writings, grab a copy and have a read!
Ahh, great to see Bloop back! I was wondering when he'd be bonking someone deadleh again. Haha... 😎👍
"Bloop was here!" - Cracked me up. Way to go Tiny Paws of Doom.