A gold. Fucking. Star.
And… wait for it.
The bot got to assess me when I was finished.
On a scale of one to ten, how well did Lyra complete the task?
Was her attitude:
A. Positive and upbeat
B. Apathetic and neutral
C. She complained the whole time
Shit like that.
I looked the tin can pile of junk in his optical sensors and told him, “Look, you little nanny bot prick. If you give me anything other than a ten, and I get a shock, which sends me into exhaustive convulsions because of the fucking piercings you forced me to endure, I will kick your little ball ass out an airlock.”
I don’t think he’s used to dealing with anyone older than a toddler because I have completed every single task with a perfect score and my attitude was the mirror image of positive and upbeat.
It’s not like there was anything to really do. It’s very clear that Serpint hasn’t been home in ages. There was a small pile of charred, smelly clothes in his bedroom and his bed covering was slightly wrinkled, but other than that it was just going through the motions. Dusting. Running maintenance protocols on the auto-cook, and the shower, and the recycle systems. Which was basically just pushing a few buttons while the bot fed me instructions from the manual. And ordering ingredients for his favorite meal. As if this barbaric bounty hunter can cook.
No one cooks.
But I did it and it’s like… fate or something. Because when the organic ingredients arrived for some weird meal called Mossian fowl with herb pasta, it came with passion limes.
I laughed out loud when I saw them. So loud the bot asked me if everything was OK.
Why, yes, you dumb little ball of metal. Everything is just perfect.
Because passion limes are the third ingredient needed to make a new princess inhibitor. The citric acid reacts with the powdered palladium and when you add xenon the magic happens. Poof. Palladium antagonist is born.
I have a feeling I can get the palladium off the hull of his ship. I’ll just feign interest in her and ask Serpint to show me around. I’m gonna change my whole demeanor. Be a good little outlaw princess and bat my eyelashes at him. Then he’ll take me to the ship, I’ll figure out a way to get the bot to distract him, and presto. Done.
The last thing I need is the xenon. Which can be found in most lamps on my home planet, but I can’t even reach the lights in this place. The ceiling is like six meters high and try as I might, the bot refused to float up and extract a bulb for me.
However… xenon can also be found in medical lasers. So I have a plan for that too.
Nope. I didn’t get any more shocks today, but I do have an honest-to-god problem with the… uh… piercing down there. How do I put this? All this walking around the apartment caused a little… chafing.
And it fucking hurts. It fucking hurts like a mothersunner. My poor pussy. It hasn’t seen any action in so long and now it has more than it can handle. Plus, my inhibitor is totally wearing off. I am sweating little pink beads. It’s a good thing this bot is so stupid, because otherwise my jig would be up.
So the plan is wait for Serpint to come home, complain—loudly—about how my new mutilation is probably infected, and make him take me to medical. Then… I don’t know. I’ll need another distraction so I can steal the little xenon capsule from the closest laser.
I’ll figure it out when I get there.
It seems like a long shot, but I am nothing if not a schemer. I wasn’t chosen for this little mission I’m on for being demure and obedient.
Besides. I’m desperate.
Desperate people do desperate things and lots of times they work out.
Most times, anyway.
Well, maybe half the time, if I’m being honest.
But I’ll take fifty-fifty odds. Because my only other choice is to tell these asshole Akeelians the truth and hope they decide to help a girl out.
Not likely.
So scraping palladium off hulls and stealing xenon capsules from medical lasers it is.
Then… maybe I can drug him? Yeah. I’ll drug him. I’ll put something in his whiskey. He has pain goo lying around. Chances are he’s got something in capsule form I can slip into his nightcap, right? Worst-case scenario I’ll sweet talk the bot into giving me access to the bathroom auto-pharmacy. I snooped while I was in there and Serpint’s got a whole list of recreational drugs on his approved list.
He’s such a catch, isn’t he?
I snort.
Then I’ll do my little chemistry experiment and boom. I’m not a princess anymore.
I’m sure this is all gonna work out.
Pretty sure, anyway.
I sit on the couch and fold my hands in my lap, trying to be casual, then cross my legs and swing my foot, satisfied I’ve got it all figured out.