Hamster Kin

A Starshatter story

(Art by Neutronboar)

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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!

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Index: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

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Chapter 6

Instant Peace

The skyscraper’s top floors tore through a murky cloud cover, one which had seemingly endless reserves of gray, depressing rainwater. Not even the winds, and those did actively try to blow said clouds away from Boklik city, could move nary one. Lovers of theories, conspiratorial or otherwise, they shared coded digital whispers in the darkest corners of the city Net, of how the Corpos were doing something nasty with the climate.

They were, like most of their kind, good noticers, and, of course, shunned and/or mocked. Had they and their mockers been able to peer through clouds or worm their way deeper into the Corpo Net, they’d see that, again of course, said noticers were one hundred percent right. There, atop the blackish, spire-like skyscraper, stood a tall array dotted with weather control antennae. Drawing plasmatic might from a powerful fusion reactor installed deep under the basement of the skyscraper, this device and those who operated it had been responsible for over two decade long blanket of gloom spread over the city.

Today was a strange day, for not one but nearly all of the big gang bosses assembled at the huge conference hall atop said skyscraper. Newcomers like the night club operators, recently and brutally accosted by one hat-wearing sentient, joined their neighbor gangster friends (or whoever was left) from the people trafficking business. Low yield narcotic substances were snorted, chewed, or smoked, and hard liquor slurped, all cyber-eyes ogling the huge grav-chair floating at the far end of the conference table.

There, in all his opulent glory, his back turned away from them, sat OBP’s top exec, Director Boo’licker. The undisputed master of Boklik city, no one dared even speak had he not been allowed to do so. Indeed, soon after everyone had been pleasantly accommodated in their cozy chairs, a cloud of bluish smoke puffed around the grav-chair and Boo’licker’s plump hand waved them all a sluggish wave.

They could start.

One of the Corpo assistants, a gene-grafted female secretary, proceeded to run a short info-dump on her holoprojector. A number of holo-slides and short vids, all taken during the aftermath of a certain alien interfering with local law enforcement or everyday gang activities. In Boklik city, those in the know, they were quite aware that there was literally no difference between the two.

The presentation ended with a detailed holo-slide of space paint drawn graffiti. A hat-wearing long-snouted gob they saw, with a bunch of scribbled letters underneath, which read:

“Bloop was here.”

For all gangsters around this table, this image represented a gang sign which signified acquisition of territory.

Their territory...

“To summarize,” – droned the plastic excuse of a woman and pointed out an elaborate, overly complicated data-graph – “our analytic division is certain that this ‘wizardly super vigilante’ named Bloop, is a heavily-armed, cybernetically augmented, gene-grafted enforcer of a brand new crew. Led by a boss code name ‘The Landlord’, we named his group ‘The One Dekat Gang’.”

She looked at the Director’s chair for any additional guidance and saw another sluggish hand wave. Another puff of smoke further shrouded the exec, who still kept his back turned, and even the gangsters who sat closer could not peer through. No one would dare move or approach the chair, of course. They all knew their place and right now, it was exactly where they were, asses firmly planted in their seats.

The unnatural female Corpo straightened her elaborate business suit. She proceeded to switch between computing terminals, loading data-packs straight from OBP’s central server. These, as the gang bosses witnessed, were hazy and even digitally damaged holo-files, which, nevertheless, displayed closeups of said Bloop alien. They kept their cyber-tech enhanced gobs tightly shut yet, following a few star-minutes of excruciating and impotent rage, one grumbled:

“Yeah, we all know ‘im. Dis da same fokk who lifted me merch, rekt muh friendo’s ‘ere night club. Tell us wut we gonn’ do...”

All eyes clicking and cyber-hands whining, the bosses patiently awaited Director Boo’licker’s reply. In a few seconds came another giant cloud of smoke, followed by a hand move, and a file was swiped from his chair straight to the holoprojector.

It was a list of directives, which, in true Corpo fashion, began with “immediately update all cyberwear with latest firmware” and ended with “deploy all enforcers across key locations around Boklik city”. There was, indeed, a holo-map which displayed the name of each gang and every boss quickly uploaded it, including all other instructions to their underlings. Nary a second was wasted and even the gang leaders proceeded to download OBP’s brand new cyberwear drivers.

The “friendo” whose big night club got ruined and pockets lightened by ten thousand dekats, opened his mouth – “Director, I think I am speaking for all of us when I say that Bloop person will be hunted down like the dirty rodent that he is. We will find where this Landlord lurks and drag him before you. My crew scraped the streets and, I think I have a pretty good idea where that slick guy hides. We only ask for OBP police assistance in setting up outer perimeters, the rest is gonna be all us. Am I right boys?”

His fellow bosses exchanged toothy grins, smirks, nods, some even tapped the table with their metallic fingers.

“With you giving us the go, we are squeezing the last of the old streets. See what all them fleshy fools say with a cyber-leg stomping their face into the pavement. This new crew is there, I am sure of it, and we will find exactly where, no matter how many of lowly denizens we haff to crush.”

It was not unusual for the Director to murmur something unintelligible or not say anything at all during these meetings. Once more, illustrious Mr. Boo’licker graced them all with another hand wave, one which did indeed look more vigorous. The OBP planetary executive was a secretive, powerful man and but a few of the gangsters, including his very plastic secretary had even seen his face. Which is why, when said gentleman unleashed a low chuckle, it startled everyone present.

No, not the fact that Mr. Boo’licker emoted, but because said chortle was surprisingly... familiar.

They looked with awe, which soon transformed into fear, when the chair floated around, one very dead and very neck-broken Mr. Boo’licker still waving at them. Bloop, who tied said hand with a piece of string proceeded to pull it again and again, puffing out another cloud of smoke from the cigar in his snout. However, the stupefying fact of his somehow unnoticed presence right at the very heart of OBP’s fortress-like headquarters was not what made the gangsters shart their cybernetic pants.

It was the big military issue demolition pack which the “wizardly super vigilante” rested his behind upon that caught everyone’s undivided attention. This being reality and not some cheap holo-flick streamed off the Net, the bomb sported no huge glowing counter, had no colorful wiring or an arming panel with huge buttons. While the scanning beams of their cyber-gear would not detect the explosive device, they were beyond positive that it was there.

“Seriously, The One Dekat Gang was the best you Corpo holo-pen pushing analyzers could come up with?” – the Hamster spoke and the levels of snark in his voice were such, that some of the gangsters’ brain chip software crashed when this one added – “See, if I was in their chairs, I’d imagine something much, much better, like ‘Masters of Bonk’ or ‘The Deadleh Squeakers’.”

Without saying a single word, Mr. Boo’licker’s secretary leapt, cybernetic claws and vibroblades popping out of her four limbs. Swirling mid-air, the Corpo assistant landed one hand here, leg there, her torso shredded by an accurate blast from Bloop’s diminutive gun.

The closest boss, who was accidentally the same night club owning gangster, proceeded to deliver a pinpoint particle-beam shot and with an even greater speed. The beam, which should’ve vaporized the Hamster’s head or at the very least bore a nice clean see-through hole, vanished in the air, not even reaching the exec’s grav-chair.

“See, cyborg reaction time is useless when you know what they’ll do.” – squeaked the small, hat-wearing sentient, the gun which he’d so swiftly unholstered now nowhere to be seen.

The boss clicked his cyber-arm turned beamgun back, spitting out with leveled, near emotionless voice – “You haff to realize that even if you kill us, there is no way you’ll get out of the building alive.”

“Aaaah,” – said the hamster and stroked his cheeks – “the time of assumptions has come!”

“Dis’izz madnes!” – screeching, one of the more cowardly bosses had already been slamming and kicking the ultra reinforced, armored doors of the conference room.

“The moanin’, the weepin’, the squealin’! Music to me Hamster ears, yes, yes, yes!”

A few of the gangsters charged, their shiny cybernetics transformed into different weaponry. Not one of them reached the floating chair. Hands, legs, and internal augments not just short circuiting, but outright blowing up. If the night club boss’s eyes were still biological, he would’ve opened them wide from the realization of what had just occurred.

“You ha...” – began thinking he and the Hamster finished his thought aloud – “hacked us! Yeeesh! Not just you here, but thanks to your obedient uploading of OBP’s slightly modified firmware, every single chrome-jacked goon of yours.”

“Realize that not all of our people are ‘jacked’, you fool!” – shouted the gang boss, who was the single person among his peers still able to talk – “You are one and they, thousands! When they find you, you are going to die...”

Bloop waggled his tiny finger and floating away from bomb, chair, and limp Mr. Boo’licker, snickered – “Perhaps they will get adorable, fuzzy ol’ me! Mayhap, in the heat of battle, they shall vanquish my Terran, Solace Tourist, wizardly super vigilante butt. However, you Mr. Dessert, you I told something when first we met.”

Alarms roared across all floors of OBP’s massive headquarters. Localized explosions shook its structure, yet without causing excessive damage. Not a single piece of debris fell down upon gloomy, soaking wet streets, and people looked the quaking skyscraper with awe, unaware of what was happening.

Bloop frolicked madly across the conference table, kicking bottles, glasses, pills, and narcotic powders. Finally, he halted and snapped with his fingers in the boss’s face – “Time allowance... spent!”

The last thing which the boss saw before he, his peers, and skyscraper’s top vanished in a chromatic ball of plasma, was the hamster’s shape folding literally into nothingness.

Winds blew across the sky and dragged unnatural gloom away. The grinning sun finally shone down buildings and no longer hopeless streets, glittering windows and a multitude of puddles blinking back at him. Sirens squealed their maddened wails across the city of Boklik. Locals were quickly waking up to the fact that every single cyborg thug, those who had until now keeping them under their boot, they were all statues of chromed metal, aching flesh, and plastic.

In but a few minutes, the whine of sirens was swallowed by a choir of raging shouts, the bashing of metal heads, and the separation of cybernetic limbs from their bodies. What has been established with a lie and unnaturally maintained, its inevitable and long since delayed end, it was about to occur.

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Dear friends, if you like to support me and enable many a future writings, grab a copy and have a read!