David Robbins - Houston Run

“Stop it!” someone yelled.

Lynx grasped a loop of intestine and wrenched the strangely rigid tube from the giant’s abdomen.

“Damnit! Stop, Lynx! He’s finished!”

Lynx paused, his claws imbedded in the silver man’s abdomen. He suddenly realized Ferret was to his left, Gremlin to his right.

“He’s finished!” Ferret repeated.

Lynx glanced up.

The giant had slumped backwards against the computer. His torso was inclined at an angle over the console, his hands gripping the computer for support. His legs dangled limply below the ravaged vestige of his waist.

Clear fluid seeped from his torn eyes. The left pupil was crushed, but the right was intact, and the right eye gazed at Lynx in bemused amazement.

“Why’d you jump him?” Ferret asked Lynx. “What the hell were you trying to do?”

Lynx stared at the gore coating his nails and hands. “Tryin’ to capture him,” he mumbled in response.

“Why should you want to do that?” the giant queried in a low tone.

Lynx looked at the silver man. “You can talk?”

“Obviously,” the giant replied. “My locomotion is severely impaired, but my vocal apparatus is functional.”

“You’re lucky it was Ferret here who went for your eyes,” Lynx commented. “He ain’t got sharp nails like me. I would’ve ripped your peepers to pieces.”

“I believe you,” the giant said.

“What do we do now, yes?” Gremlin interjected.

Lynx abruptly realized he was standing on the bottom of the contour chair. He hopped to the floor and peered at the silver man, at the hole in his silver pants. “What are you?” he demanded.

“Beg pardon?” the giant said.

“Don’t play games with me, bub!” Lynx stated. “I want to know what you are! Now!”

“I am a Superior,” the giant informed them.

“Superior?” Lynx snorted. “Superior to what?”

“To all lower organisms, of course,” the Superior answered.

“What lower organisms?” Lynx pressed him.

“Biological organisms,” the Superior said.

“Uh-huh.” Lynx pursed his lips, his green eyes narrowing. “You ain’t told me much. What’s a Superior?”

“I am a Superior,” the giant reiterated.

“We’re talkin’ in circles!” Lynx snapped. He reflected for a moment.

“Where’s your nuts?”

“Beg pardon?” the Superior responded.

Lynx leaned forward, frowning. “I want to know why you ain’t got no nuts, pal! No balls! No gonads! Get me?”

The blond man nodded. “Superiors do not require procreational capability.”

Lynx and Ferret exchanged glances. “Why not?” Lynx questioned the giant. “Don’t you Superior types whoopee?”

“Beg pardon?”

Lynx raised his right hand. “You say that one more time, and I’m gonna finish the job I started! I want to know why you haven’t got a pecker, and I want to know now!”

The giant’s eyelids fluttered. “Peckers… are superfluous.”

“They’re what?” Lynx said.

“Not essential,” the Superior stated wearily.

“What’s the matter with you?” Lynx asked. “Are you dyin’?”

“Excessive dehydration,” the Superior stated. “My fluid level is critical.

You severed one of the major arteries from my Heinlein.”

“Your what?” Lynx said.

The Superior’s chin dropped onto his chest.

“Don’t pass out on me, turkey!” Lynx declared.

The giant’s eyes closed, then partially opened. “Unable to maintain sentience,” he stated.

Lynx grabbed the silver man’s right leg and shook it. “Don’t crap out yet! You need to tell me where Blade and Hickok are being held? What happened to ’em?”

The Superior was on the verge of collapsing. “You want the two Warriors?”

“You bet your ass we do!” Lynx asserted. “Where are they? Do you know?”

The Superior nodded. “Containment Section.”

“Containment? Where is it?” Lynx probed.

“Sublevels below Intelligence,” the Superior revealed, then slumped into unconsciousness, his huge form slipping toward the floor.

Lynx stepped aside as the giant slid from the console and sprawled forward. The silver man’s forehead rested on the foot of the center contour chair. “At least he told us a little,” Lynx commented.

“He did?” Ferret said. “How do you know we can trust what he said?

How do you know he wasn’t lying through his teeth?”

Lynx shrugged. “Just a hunch, is all. I think we can believe him. These bozos don’t impress me as the lyin’ kind.”

Ferret smirked. “Is that your professional assessment?”

“Call it whatever you want,” Lynx said. “We’ve got to find this Containment Section and free Blade and Hickok.”

“What about this Superior, yes?” Gremlin queried.

“We’ll stuff him in one of the closets,” Lynx said.

“And what if he’s missed?” Ferret asked. “What if someone comes looking for him and finds him?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Lynx said. “We haven’t got any choice. We can’t stay here.”

Gremlin stared at the Superior’s crotch. “He really does not have a penis, no?”

“No,” Lynx confirmed.

“Most unusual, yes?” Gremlin mentioned.

“It’s friggin’ weird,” Lynx remarked. “Come on. Give me a hand.”

Together, the three mutants moved the Superior to one of the cockpit compartments and crammed his bulk inside. Lynx propped the Superior against the rear wall, bending the giant’s legs perpendicular to the torso.

“There! That should do it!” Lynx said. He closed the compartment door and led the way toward the exit hatch.

“How are we going to find the Containment Section?” Ferret wanted to know.

“We’ll find it,” Lynx vowed. “Trust me.”

“I wish you’d quit saying that,” Ferret muttered.

They were a yard from the exit door when Lynx abruptly halted, his features rippling in surprise.

“What is wrong, yes?” Gremlin asked.

“Those Superiors…” Lynx said slowly, his brow creasing in perplexity.

“What about them?” Ferret responded.

“They ain’t go no peckers,” Lynx stated.

“Yeah. So?” Ferret said.

Lynx glanced at his companions. “So how the hell do they take a leak?”

Blade came awake with a painful start, his head throbbing, his eyes smarting as a bright light caused him to squint. He remembered the three silver men, and he surveyed his surroundings uncertainly, a dozen questions flooding his mind. What had happened? Where was he? Why had the three silver men jumped him? What was this all about? And, most importantly, why couldn’t he move?

A muted humming became audible.

Blade found himself in a square room, ten feet by ten feet. He was the only occupant. The walls, ceiling, and floor were composed of a white, plastic-like substance. A large rectangular light overhead supplied ample illumination. The room was devoid of furniture.

What was going on?

Blade, to his astonishment, discovered he was erect, on his feet in the middle of the room, fully clothed except for his Bowies. His muscular arms were draped at his sides. He tried moving his hands, but failed. Next he attempted to shuffle his legs, but they refused to respond. To his chagrin, he realized his entire body was immobile, with the notable exclusion of his eyes. By focusing all of his attention, he could shift his eyes up and down, and from one side to the other. But the range of movement was slight, compounding his budding frustration.

Had the silver men drugged him?

Blade peered to the right, then the left. The humming seemed to be coming from the walls, emanating from black bubbles positioned in the middle of the white wall to his right and the wall to his left.