Rage of the Ancient Gods by Craig Robertson

Rage of the Ancient Gods by Craig Robertson

Author:Craig Robertson [Robertson, Craig]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781732872424
Publisher: Imagine-It Publishing
Published: 2018-12-11T07:00:00+00:00


TWENTY

“Okay, time to boat this marlin,” I said as I stood.

“Love, a few questions. What boat? What marlin? What did I do to deserve you?”

I kissed the top of her head. “The metaphorical boat, an equally metaphorical fish, and because you were a good girl in many previous lives.”

“So where are we going to do what?”

“I'm going to add the last push to get our plan over the wall. I'm going to meet with Vorc.”

“And the reason your much better half isn't accompanying the worst negotiator of all time at the most critical juncture would be?”

“You're a distraction.”

“I'll take that in its most positive sense.”

“No, seriously. Vorc hates me straight up. I can use that to help massage him and win the battle of wits.”

“So you want to be alone to massage him. Is it you don't want me to witness where you'll be rubbing vigorously?”

“Oh you've got a potty mouth, girl. If I had time I'd wash it out with soap.”

“If you had time and three helpers maybe.” She gave me a Kaljaxian war growl. It was really cool. Really scary too.

“You're too nice. He'd try and be polite, win you over and in so doing attempt to bypass me.”

“You know at age two billion, I thought I'd been the recipient of every curse there was. Then—bada bing, bada boom—I get Ryaned again. I'm too nice? How is that theoretically possible?”

“Oh get over yourself, nice person. Like I said, I want to leverage his loathing to help …”

“I know. Sexually gratify him.” She stuck out her tongue.

I replied in kind. Then with my elbow fully flexed and my finger just in front of my mouth, I pointed at her. “And I'm serious about that soap cure.”

“Anything us little-brains can do while you're off saving the day and relieving Vorc's pent-up tension?” asked Toño, who'd been sulky quiet up until then.

“Well, the little lady can stay as cute as she is,” I replied, cupping her chin.

“I wish I could still vomit,” she said while my hand was still conspicuously close to her mouth.

“That's what I'll do. I'll work on an algorithm so we can vomit on him upon his triumphant return.” That Toño. Real funny guy.

“At this point, my merry band of coconspirators, there's not much else to do. If we can't get Vorc to commit to repair the intermixers, we're looking at a series of lesser choices.”

“And to think that children reading this fairy tale in the future will learn that the only man—neigh—force in the universe able to save said universe was the most forceful soul, none other than … can I get a drumroll, please,” coughed up Al like a hairball.

A roll from multiple snare drums was heard.

“Pilot General Jon “Ryanmax” Ryan, DDiv., BMF like Shaft, and slumlord of the eighty-nine thousandth century. Now go to bed, you brats.”

I clapped slowly.

“Why thank you, Pilot. I thought that was fairly rich myself,” said half my ship's AI.

“No, I'm clapping because you're done, pickle dick.”

“Form One, as it is



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