#the lil’ buddy can also be a regular-ass animal like a dog

[novelconcepts]

There’s a category within fantasy novels I call the “Lil’ Buddy”—a small animal companion, often capable of speech. Every single time I read a book with a Lil’ Buddy, I’m delighted. And also terrified. That something will happen to it, and my heart will be crushed beneath the bootheel of yet another author.

[ecotone99]

[HR] [SF] Spence - Chapter 2

‘Fore we got rid of Dr. McFuckknuckle and The Three Stooges, went through all their things and vehicles. No identification at all.

That tablet thing ‘Curly’ had was, along with bein’ a tracker for Spence, a maintenance console kinda thing. Get back to that here in a minute.

The doc’s car had some real interestin’ toys inside. Was a laptop, set up on a stand like in a police vehicle. Opened it up, and it lit up fine, but wanted a password, or a fingerprint. Lucky for me, once I pried open ol’ doc’s torn off hand and cleaned it up a mite, the thumbprint from that did the trick. Couple minutes of tinkerin’ got me my thumbprint authorized jest fine. Tossed that hand back over by its former owner. Spence followed the toss with his head, and chuffed. ‘Good riddance to bad rubbish, right?’ He cocked his head at me, like he was thinkin’ that over.

Was a leather folder which had some papers, a small black nylon toolbag, and a power cord/adapter for keeping the laptop charged.

Plugged the laptop up in the shack, ‘fore we headed out to get rid of the trash.

Loaded the dead weight into the back of that SUV, jerry-rigged a tow for the doc’s car, got ready to haul out into the back-country. Plenty of room for Spence in the back seat. Opened the door and said ‘C’mon bud. It’s garbage day.’ Spence kinda ‘chuffed’, would not get in.

‘You gonna stay here, slick?’

<chuff>

Goddamn, he was sayin’ no.

‘Fair enough, you plenty fast, bud. Follow me.’

Headed out, and Spence was a joy to see in motion. He’d rocket out ahead, swoop around and jet right back. He was playin’ with his lil ol’ slow human. Such a cat, that guy. Wiseass.

Got to where we was gonna dump this sack o’ assholes, and made sure to kick Dr. MFK in the ribs until my leg was tired. Not that it bothered him much, made me feel better.

Not gonna get too detailed on where/how all that was dealt with. Some things are best left unsaid ... but no one is ever gonna find them, or their vehicles ... and there are a couple-three less incendiary grenades left.

Was a long walk back, but Spence had a time. He’d spot a jack-rabbit, start up that chittery thing he does, and off he’d go. Chase the poor lil bugger for a while, and then he’d stop, let that jack run off, look back at me, and speed on back. Keepin’ an eye on his human. Saw a buzzard off on high, ridin’ the thermals. Guess we wasn’t the only ones takin’ care of dead meat today.

Just managed to beat the rain, and nightfall when we got back home.

Was time to get back to those ‘stay tuned’ things, so made up some coffee, and started snoopin’.

That laptop and those papers had some info, but the rest here is some wild-ass-guessin’:

Spence is a ‘prototype weapons system.’ Was the only one that ‘was successful’. Seems ‘they’ (not clear on who ‘they’ really is, but ‘they’ had some deep pockets, as Dr. MFK didn’t seem to have much problem keepin’ the lights on) had built some kinda ’AI’. Too bad for ‘they’, this AI? That dog won’t hunt. Couldn’t manage to ‘code a hunting instinct.’ Some bright-boy lab rat fella decided to ‘look into the feline mind’ to get that ‘hunter/killer’ code.

Dr. MFK was that lab rat. Pretty sure the process died with him. Small favors.

Seems the idea that he come up with was what he called a ‘matrix’ that this AI thing could run in, and the cat ‘code’ part could be copied in there, to give them that missin’ piece. There warn’t no ‘organic’ Spence left in that shiny body, from what I could figger. Just that matrix thing, swaddled up in Spence’s metal and silicon innards, with Spence and that AI all mixed up together.

He also figgered out that ferals and cats not raised ... whaddyacallit ... underfoot? Well, not bonded to humans, they wasn’t gonna work either.

Bastard slaughtered a lot of cats. ‘Spence, Ima thinkin’ the Doc here got off light.’ Spence chuffed again. Ima guessin’ this time he was agreein’ with me.

Spence was a smart fella before, but now he’s scary smarter. Still good company. Conversation is nice, just too damn big for lap-sittin’.

—-

[SIGNAL SCAN IN PROGRESS]

[SIGNAL DETECTED]

[SIGNAL TRIANGULATION ENGAGED]

—-

Also figgered out that the tools in that bag were for openin’ up maintenance ports and the like on Spence’s chrome carcass. One of them had a port for connectin’ that little maintenance console up. Told ya I’d get back to that. Was able to find the tracker tag they had plugged into Spence. Pulled that sumbitch out and unhooked its battery. Put that all away in the toolbag. Oh yeah, Spence is stealth. I can’t claim to understand how it works, but I read that, and tried to take a picture with my old digital camera, and all I could see was a kinda washed out blur, like the lens was smudged. Does the same kinda thing to radar signals and the like, but I ain’t got no way to test that. The black magic don’t extend to regular optical cameras, but that’s ok. Hell, I wanna be able to see him.

—-

[TRIANGULATION INCOMPLETE]

[SIGNAL LOST]

—-

Feelin’ kinda proud of myself at this point, so I closed Spence back up, grabbed a beer, and hit my chair. Spence sat on my left, and leaned his head on my leg. Put my hand on his ear, and he buzzed that purr of his, and lightly thumped his tail. We listened to the rain, until it faded out.

That was pretty close to the last time we felt peaceful.

Thinkin’ that ‘they’ might want to collect on their spendin’, and scoop up Spence. Yeah, well, fellas. Gonna have to go thru me first. Ima thinkin’ we two gonna hit the road. Dunno where to yet, but ‘they’ probably got the shack already nailed down. Also thinkin’ about that buzzard.

Next day, shit to do. Told Spence to guard the shack, and I’d be back. He chuffed and ima sure that was his version of an eye-roll. Walked down to the highway. Waved down the bus. Took that to the city (the other direction from town), and bought a new-to-me truck, with a camper shell on the back. Figgered that would give Spence some cover from all the lookie-loos.

Once I was back home, towed the trusty old truck out to the back-country, for a hero’s funeral. Couple less incendiaries. At least this time, didn’t need to walk back. Yep, could still see that circlin’ bird. Like that paintin’ ... this is not a pipe, and that ain’t no buzzard. Spence was chasin’ jack-rabbits again. I stopped the truck.

‘Spence!’ He spun around and come runnin’ back. ‘Hey bud. Ima thinkin’ you understand me a lot more than you used to. See that?’ I kinda pointed up the bird’s way. Spence’s head tracked the lazy circles for a bit, and then he looked back at me, head cocked. ‘Yep. Ima thinkin’ we on borrowed time. Those ‘they’ fellas are watchin’.’ He thought on that, and gave me a chuff. ‘Time to go, old fella’.’ He didn’t make a sound this time. Just cocked his head, like he does... and then walking over and givin’ me a head bump on my leg. Understood that perfect. I opened up the door, and he jumped in the back of the double-cab.

Got back home, and started packin’ up.

Got my back-country hikin’ gear. Packed some boxes with non-perishables. Loaded up the jugs of water I already had. Wrapped up our little armory in some tarps. Stowed that laptop and the other gear in my pack. Made sure my scatter-gun was loaded and handy. Was just finishing securing ever’thin’ down, when Spence made his chitter sound, looking back towards the road to the highway.

‘Goddammit, guess we outta time, bud. You stay here, in the truck. Let’s see what these assholes are up to.’

<chuff>

It looked to be one of the staties’ prowlers. I got no problem with the real authorities, but I made sure my sawed-off was in easy, hidden reach.

Prowler pulled to a stop. Could see two folks inside. In my experience with the staties, there’s usually only one per car. Somethin’ is not right here.

They both got out. ‘Good afternoon, sir.’

‘Afternoon officers, can I help you fellas?’

‘Yessir. We are out here, working with the rangers, letting people know that there is a very dangerous wild animal in the area. Have you noticed any signs? Any lost livestock? Pets? Anything like that?’

The one talkin’ was bein’ real calm and reassurin’ and walkin’ over easy like, with a nice, friendly grin. The other one was kinda off to the side, movin’ slow and steady, kinda like he was tryin’ to flank me... lookin’ everywhere but at me. Noticed that their sidearms were not the standard statie issue, but more like smaller versions of the Stooges’ weapons, with extended magazines. This is not a pipe, and these ain’t staties.

From where they was at, they couldn’t get a clear view of Spence, but he saw them. I could see him trackin’ their progress from the corner of my eye.

‘Well sir, don’t have any livestock to speak of. Was out hikin’ some today. Didn’t see no varmints bigger than a jack-rabbit.’ Was edgin’ my hand over to the sawed-off.

The chatty one smiled bigger, and started to reply, when the sneaky one finally got to where he saw Spence. He grabbed at his shoulder mike, and they both reached down for their weapons, but they never had a chance. I was spinning behind the truck, grabbin’ my scatter-gun, but I never even got it pulled.

I knew Spence was fast, but the last time he did this, I didn’t see the details. My buddy Spence is a beautiful goddamn chrome murder machine.

Spence went right through the side window of the camper shell. He tore into Sneaky, snipped both hands off clean, and slashed his throat deep, all in one move. Sneaky dropped, no sound but wet chokin’. Never even keyed the mike. Spence was over on Smiley in less than a heartbeat, before he could even get turned. Spence took that gunhand clean, and dropped ol’ Smiley on his back, and held him there, front paws on his shoulders, with the claws slid in for purchase, pressin’ down. Spence smiled, if you can call a mouthful of steely razors smilin’.

It was quiet, ‘cept for Spence’s metallic chirr, and Smiley’s sobs, as he clutched the stub with his remaining hand, ghost white face locked on Spence.

I walked over with my scatter-gun on my shoulder. Put a hand on Spence’s head and rubbed that ear. He thumped my leg once with his tail, not moving anything else.

Knelt down a little off to the side, up by Smiley’s head.

‘Son, meet Spence. Now, you and me? We gonna have us a little come-to-Jesus meetin’.’

submitted by /u/UndiagnosablePaella [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/36xvjcm