Zero Hour (Expeditionary Force, #5)

by Craig Alanson

But you already assumed that wouldn’t work, so I am intrigued at how stupendously idiotic your idea really is, because all the things that so far have not been your idea have been impressively stupid, even for you.”

“Hoooh-leee shit.” Skippy gasped. “You want to use a jump wormhole as a weapon?”

“Hmmf. Joe, in our time together, I have learned painful lessons not to state categorically that something is impossible, because you ignorant monkeys are too stupid to understand the concept of ‘impossible’ so you don’t let it stop you. Truly, the ignorance of your species is so profound it is kind of your superpower. Far, far too many times I have been humiliated because my vast, galaxy-spanning intelligence cannot imagine a way to succeed, and then you say ‘duh what about this’ and I am so deeply embarrassed I want to crawl under a rock and die. Or choke you. This time, I pleased myself that your argument was not with me, but with the laws of physics that even I must obey. Now that I sort of understand what you want to do, I know your argument is with the very concept of logic.

“Hoooo-leeeee,” Skippy didn’t finish the thought. “Whoa. I did not see that coming! Logic just told me it owes you an apology. Joe, this does not sound in any way practical, but if you can make this happen, I bow to the master.”

“Joe, the phrase ‘I didn’t know that’ should be tattooed on your forehead, because it is appropriate for just about any occasion.”

“Ha! Physics is my bitch, Joe.

“Crap. No way to do it, then?” “No way,” his avatar tapped its lips as if thinking about it, “without the incredible magnificence of me! With me, it is still not easy-peasy, Joe, but I can do it. I will show the laws of physics who is boss around here.”

“Why is everything so freakin’ complicated?” I lamented. Technically I suppose I was bitching or whining, but ‘lamenting’ sounds better. “It’s because the universe is punishing you, Joe,” Skippy said gleefully. “Really, the universe is mad at itself, but it is taking it out on you.” “Huh? Why?” “Oh,” he sighed. “Sixty six million years ago, the universe dropped a big rock on Earth and wiped out the dinosaurs. Now, a troop of filthy, ignorant monkeys is flying around in a stolen pirate ship, screwing up everything. The universe totally regrets dropping that rock.”

Hans Chotek’s full name is Hans Ernst Johann Chotek von Chotkowa und Vojnin. When Skippy told me that, we had a good laugh making up mispronunciations like ‘Han Solo Choking on Chocolate and Vagina’. Yes, that does show how immature Skippy and I are. But you have to admit, it is funny.

It worked. At first, the only thing we knew is that the drive coil package in the dropship behind us exploded in truly spectacular fashion. Skippy later realized part of the mass of the Maxolhx ship got converted to energy and fed back thru the wormhole during the picosecond it existed. The second thing we knew was the Dutchman had survived, again. If we ever went to the shipyard where our battered star carrier was built, I would buy beers for the construction crew. Except Thuranin probably didn’t drink beer. And the ship was probably built by robots. And the Thuranin would want to kill us. Still, it would be a nice gesture.

I’m still extremely proud of that, by the way. That little incident has to be given a prominent position in the Skippy Awesomeness Hall of Fame.” “You’re building a Hall of Fame for yourself now?” “A virtual one, Joe, but I do owe it to the galaxy to memorialize my awesomeness.” “Uh huh. This Hall of Fame, does it have a gift shop?” “Yes, and for you I got a big foam finger with ‘Skippy’s Number One Fan’ on it.”

Regarding harsh treatment, I did not plan to scratch a Maxolhx behind its ears until it purred, but I also would not allow torture. Simply being held prisoner by a species on the very bottom of the technology ladder would be torture to a Maxolhx.

I will have a whole other species to mess with, and the Maxolhx isn’t ignorant like you monkeys. He will be better able to appreciate how awesome I am.”

I feared Skippy would use a bot manipulator arm to choke Snuggles, but our beer can had another sort of lesson in mind. What I should have remembered was what Skippy personally wanted from having a Maxolhx aboard: entertainment. The two hulking maintenance bots, designed to handle heavy reactor components, grasped Mister Snuggles’ arms and legs, and the advanced being began moving to a thumping beat blasting out of speakers in the holding cell. Everybody dance now! Everybody dance now! Give me the music!