Bad Alien Boss (Royal Aliens 6)

Page 37

As we walk through the ship, chaos unfolds. But it’s not the screaming, raving, guns blazing kind of chaos you’d expect, a full pitched battle inside a spaceship like they show on TV, which never made much sense to me anyway, because surely discharging firearms while inside a vessel protecting you from the unfeeling vacuum of space is a bad idea.
It’s the very careful, what the fuck do we do now, kind of chaos you get when you walk around holding someone’s head. Warriors sort of cry out and think about attacking us, then immediately think better of it. This pattern continues all the way to the bridge of the vessel, where the chief officers and other generally important tactical aliens are gathered for what promises to be a hell of a show.
“Oh, hello!” Terrible says as he steps through the door, far too cheerfully for my liking. “I am commandeering this ship for the glory of King Tyrant. You are all welcome to serve in your current roles under his rule. If you have any questions or concerns about these changes, I encourage you to take them up with your previous captain.”
With that, he puts the disembodied head on the captain’s chair. It’s super fucking gross, but it is also kind of bad ass, but also, he might be a psycho? Then again, this is war. And I suppose if you’re going to singlehandedly take over a ship, you’re going to have to come across like a dangerously crazy fucker. Terrible is doing an excellent job of that right now. Even I’m scared of him.
There is something very satisfying about being prey and becoming predator though. Satisfying, and poetic.
“Are there any complaints? No? Speak now, or forever be bound to the glory of King Tyrant.”
Everybody is staring at the disgusting thing, and then back at Terrible. Suddenly his name makes sense. I thought it referred to just generally being not very good, but it’s obviously intended in the original sense. He’s Terrible. Capital T. He’s an absolute monster who keeps his grotesque and violent impulses hidden behind a veneer of proper behavior.
“Time’s up,” he announces. He picks the head up and tosses it across the room to a purple alien who catches it out of reflex, then gags and drops it. We all watch, somewhat horrified as the head then proceeds to roll in an awkward ka-thunk ka-thunk sort of way under a desk.
“We will proceed along your original heading and make contact with the royal ship. You will all be trained in the ways of your new world. Each of you will be paid handsomely for your work, so do not imagine that you will be slaves. You have much to celebrate!”
They do not look very celebratory, and who can blame them. He’s alien abducting everybody aboard this ship, using their own ship, and he’s doing it in such a high-handed manner, I don’t think they have the balls to resist. I think they might even respect him. It’s a fine line between being absolutely terrified of someone, and really liking them. I know, because I’ve been there. Not with a disembodied head, but still. I get it.
“Now, I assume you have a captain’s room somewhere,” he says. “I’d like to get changed and wash the fool who decided it would be a good idea to come after me off.”
“Tingle,” someone says. They’re purple.
“My name is second officer Tingle,” Purple explains. “And I would like to welcome you on behalf of all the EnD soldiers.”
“Very nice of you, Tingle. Now, the captain’s quarters?”
“Above the bridge, sir. If you’d follow me.”
Terrible just took over this entire ship and mentally broke the crew inside, what, ten minutes? This is one of the most legitimately impressive things I have ever seen.
We are lead to a room up above the bridge. It features camera feeds all over the ship, which is handy because I guess we will be able to tell if they are planning an insurrection or something like that.
“If you need anything, please call for me,” Tingle says, before bowing and scraping back out the door.
“You have the biggest balls of anybody I have ever met or heard of,” I gasp when we are alone. “You just took their whole fucking ship! And you barely broke a sweat. You’re a fucking machine.”
“I’m glad you’re impressed,” he says. He’s not smiling, but I can tell he is as proud of himself as I am of him. “This species respects brutality. They will follow the most violent, aggressive being in any arena. It is not particularly challenging to impress them. Now. Come here…”
She recoils slightly as I reach for her. Is she afraid of me? Were all the words of praise and admiration nothing more than a cover for the fear and disgust she no doubt feels at having seen me at my worst? I do not consider what I have done to be attractive in any form. She has seen me commit the most brutal violence, and there is no way she will be able to erase those sights from her mind.