Welcome to Percotran -Part XVI

By Richard Davidson

Only the emergency lighting was working. The entire corridor glowed a soft, fluorescent green, making the two men look as if they were in a video game, or something.

“How about this?” Ted’s voice echoed out from the steel locker his head was immersed in.

“Whad’ya got there?” asked 17, kneeling in a puddle of rusty water, saying silent prayers he wouldn’t be electrocuted today.

“It looks like a small Priblam Plug, smack in the middle of three-inch Luthranium.”

“Well, that’s not great, but it’ll do,” 17 didn’t sound thrilled.

Three inch Luthranium could withstand the pressure of a charge by a bull elephant loaded with TNT, which wasn’t the ideal test, but it had a molecular flaw that had never been imagined until 12 centuries after it had been widely used in all outer and security walls in the major corporations.

Every nineteen feet, six and a quarter inches, its molecular integrity was reversed, causing it to have small areas where instead of hard metal, its consistency was that of soft jelly. Alfred Priblam, a top scientist for Thermodam, which went under during the four hundred year Reign of the Computer, invented a plug that bonded with the metal, and actually tripled its strength if used in tandem with other appropriately placed plugs.

The plug itself was impenetrable, for over seven hundred and fifty years, nine weeks, and three days, until Priblam’s eighth generation grand nephew, Horatio Priblam XXXVIII, discovered that all one needed to do, was penetrate the plug on a molecular level, using a drill bit 1,000 times smaller than a human hair, and it just so happened that Ted had one.

“Hold on a minute,” cautioned 17.

“We may be beneath sea level in this corridor.”

Ted agreed, and wished he hadn’t drilled into the Priblam Plug, because there was a steady drip of water drenching his forehead.

And there seemed to be a very faint rumbling sound.

“Don’t move,” came a voice from somewhere behind the two men.

From out of the shadows walked the biggest, most athletic-looking man Ted had ever seen. He was dressed in a Percotran Security uniform, and pointing a small device at the men, which Ted assumed was some sort of weapon.

“You boys did quite the job on Commander Richter,” said Thawala, in his most vicious tone of voice.

“You’ll do no such thing to me.”

With that, he shot a small beam out of the yet unnamed device in his hand, and knocked the XP-2,000,000 from 17’s grip. 17 let out a little yelp as it burned his hand enough to make it smoke.

Ted ran for the XP-2,000,000; 17 lunged for the XP-2,000,000, and Thawala leapt gracefully, quicker than a well-trained cat, and was the first to arrive at the location it had occupied only seconds earlier.

The XP-2,000,000 seemed to have its own mind about the matter, as it was not there upon Thawala’s amazingly speedy arrival. It had floated into the air, and was hovering tauntingly over Thawala’s head, making low buzzing sounds.

Thawala swore in his native language.

Ted had taken an ancient German Luger from Commander Richter, and he shot Thawala twice; once in the shoulder, and once in the knee. His next four shots missed completely, as Thawala was too quick for him, and suddenly Ted felt his neck about to snap as Thawala began turning his head forcefully to the right.

In the 1/10th of a second it had taken Thawala to begin applying the necessary pressure to kill Ted once and for all, a small waterfall appeared in the wall above them, and as the icy blast hit him full in the face, Thawala loosened his grip long enough for Ted to slip away.

As Thawala regained control, and leapt in Ted’s direction, he realized he’d been foolish to concentrate on this one, as 17 had the XP-2,000,000 once again, and a beam shot from it into Thawala’s temple.

Thawala’s face turned a dark purple color, and he opened his mouth and screamed. It was not a scream of terror, but a primal scream, as he summoned all his power to resist 17’s efforts at reprogramming him.

Ted watched in amazement as every vein pulsed outward from this huge man, as he first dropped to his knees, and then passed out.

“Reprogramming unsuccessful,” reported the XP-2,000,000. “Subject Geneticon.”

“Holy crap!” said 17. “A Geneticon!”

Ted had never heard of such a thing, but judging from 17’s amazement, and the size and strength of this guy, a Geneticon wasn’t a good thing to have after you.

Seawater was beginning to fill the room, and was already up to Ted’s knees. The waterfall was getting bigger, and rushing faster.

“Does that thing repair walls?” asked Ted, hopeful.

“I don’t know,” answered 17, “let’s try.”

The XP-2,000,000 glowed bright orange, and shot out hundreds of tiny beams, making a force field around the hole in the wall. It glowed so brightly the men couldn’t look at it, and Ted wondered if their most immediate problem hadn’t been solved after all.

He heaved a sigh of relief, and then the entire wall gave way, and he was underwater, with chunks of metal and concrete slamming down all around him.

Ted thought he would drown. He was out of breath, and still underwater, and very soon he would exhale, and then he would suck seawater into his lungs, and die.

This was fine with Ted, who’d run out of reasons to live quite some time ago, and he spun through the frothy water, and suddenly he could see a scene from his youth, as clear as if it were unfolding right before his eyes.

He was nine years old, standing on second base, and Billy Baumgartner was up at bat. Billy was a good hitter, so Ted was leading quite a bit. He’d been told by his coaches that he was a big fat wimp.

“You hit so well, and it’s obvious how much you love the game. Your fielding is pretty good, and you could be a real asset to the team, but your baserunning just doesn’t cut it,” the coach had told him earlier that very day.

Ted was smaller than the other kids, and afraid of getting hurt. He was easily intimidated, and somehow, just couldn’t bring himself to commit to trying to occupy the same space as some of the opposing players.

The pitcher threw to second, and Ted only just barely made it back in time. Ted’s ears were burning. He was mad. Here he was, leading off on second base, after a real pretty hit, and that jerk is going to make a fool out of him with a pick. Well not today, pal. You just pitch it to my man, Billy, and he’ll show you who’s a fool, and who’s not.

Sure enough, Billy got a base hit, into the hole in short Right. Ted went screaming to third, and to his surprise, the third base coach was waving him in! Off a single to short Right? Ted didn’t think he was going to make it, and felt himself holding up; ready to be satisfied with runners on the corners.

But something told him to keep going. That pick attempt had really gotten him fired up, and he was sick of being yelled at by the coach, so Ted rounded third, and poured on heat like he never had in his life.

Sal Cleveland was the catcher, and he was one of the biggest kids Ted had ever seen. He was covering the plate, but the ball hadn’t gotten there yet, and Ted had made a mental “X” in the center of Sal’s breastplate; and that’s where Ted was going to drive his spikes, leaping feet first into the overgrown catcher.

To Ted’s excitement, just before he got to Sal, the entire world began to move in slow motion, and to his great delight, he could see the ball, out of the corner of his eye, fast approaching from the left. He leapt, and it didn’t take him as high as he thought it would, as he buried his spikes into the unfortunate boy’s groin.

Technically, the ball arrived a microsecond or so before Ted, but since big Sal never really had ahold of it, Ted was safe, called by the umpire as the dust was clearing just a bit.

Big Sal lay on the ground, gasping in the way only a boy with a groin injury will, and Ted felt very conflicted. On the one hand, he had been aggressive, and done what his coach wanted. On the other hand, he’d caused pain to another human being, and on the other hand, that human being was big Sal Cleveland, who was a bully, and an ignoramus.

So Ted felt good. But feeling good made him feel bad. This whole thing sucks.

All of this swirled through Ted’s mind, matching the rush of water that was bearing him God knows where, at a dizzying rate of speed, along with the realization that had he slid head first, and took the punishment, he would’ve beat the ball, and been legitimately safe without having to play dirty.

On the other hand, why would anybody want Sal Cleveland to have kids?

Ted could hold his breath no longer, and he exhaled, and said goodbye to life on Earth, but then his head was above water for a moment. He slid back beneath the surface, but fought the urge to inhale, and began treading water, taking in a lungful of sweet, sweet oxygen, as his wet face shone in the moonlight.

He was in the bay, and it appeared the current was taking him out to sea. There was only the light of the moon, as all of Percotran International’s lights were out in this sector. In Ted’s entire life, he’d never imagined such a thing as the power grid going down, but he had his own problems at the moment.

He wondered if 17, and the big Geneticon had drowned, since neither was floating nearby, and for the first time, Ted felt truly alone. It was scary, but Ted liked it.

He liked it alot.

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