“You pig!” Marise cried. She batted her fists on Choko’s barrel chest. “You’re all pigs!” She spat at his feet.
“Hey, none of that.” Choko slapped her in the mouth and dragged her kicking and screaming to one of the baggage rooms.
“Dame’s got a sassy lip on her,” quipped Flip.
“As she should,” said Biggs. “How’d you like to have Chok’s cock up your ass?”
Flip laughed. “Point taken.”
Could have been Regers’ imagination but he thought he could hear Marise’s thrashings and cries through the steel door. After a time, he rumbled, “You boys go in for the rough.”
Biggs gave a diminutive twitch of shoulder. “Chok needs to vent some excess energy. I give him a bit of latitude from time to time. After a bit of fresh meat now and then, he’s good to go. Loyal to a T.”
“Yeah, loyal as an alley cat,” griped Regers.
Biggs shrugged and yawned.
Chok was a mean, bullying wiseass of a scum egging for a take down in the most shitkicking ugly way by someone a little bit meaner, faster and more ruthless than he. It was all Regers could do to keep his head about him. He saw the interested scrutiny in Biggs’s hollowed-out face behind that placid, sleepy gaze and mocking, sardonic grin and a tense moment passed. He weighed Regers for the tiniest sign of cracking.
He nodded, satisfied. “Regers, don’t like the sound of those engines down there. Squealing like rusted-out transport brakes. Frankly, think you need some exercise, get your mind off that pretty bitch in there getting her virginity stripped. Why don’t you take Flip, do one more round looking for that disruptor in the engine room. He mentioned something about you being a mechanic, right?”
Regers shrugged. “Dabbled in this and that.”
“Good. We may not have four hours like you suggest. With no disruptor and one RPG, we’re up shit creek.”
Regers gave a cool nod. “As you like.” Teeth gnashing, he headed down the foredeck to the companionway. Flip came in tow, gun cocked. On a whim, he stopped by Chok’s ‘love room’ before Flip could object. Regers kicked open the door.
“Everything okay in here?” Poking his head in, he saw Choko in the act of undoing his belt buckle, his round, half-naked torso showing too much body hair. Marise cowered, stripped bare, nursing a black eye and bruised arms. “Mind your own business, merc boy. Close that fucking door. Cold in here. Flip’s turn is next, not yours.” He snatched up his gun and aimed it at Regers’ groin, one way of saying back the fuck off or get your nuts blown off.
Regers complied. He faked a smirking nod and salute, but before shutting the door, he intoned, “Need rough foreplay to get it up?” His fist clenched as he slammed the door shut, with the wish to choke the life out of Choko’s bull neck. But little he could do with only a strip of metal against two heavily-armed men.
Should he focus on saving Marise? Trying to take down these lowlife hijackers was fraught with risk. Yet Flip’s end was near. On determined feet, Regers turned and made for the engine room, the machinery making more grinding and squealing noises. Flip brought up the rear, all the time Regers imagined Marise’s whimpers and moans as she was borne to the floor. He forced out his anger, all the helpless rage. All were useless energies at this moment. Damn it, Regers! You’re becoming a fucking milksop. A sentimental fool. It’ll get you killed.
He and Flip descended a narrow companionway that led to the engine room, boots clicking on the metal grate. The place reeked of old oil and diesel fumes. Two lamps hung from the ceiling, casting a sallow glow over the machinery, the dust and cobwebs. Two sets of massive diesel engines ran the hovercraft, each positioned at either end. One ran the air cushion, the other powered the rear propellers. The air cushion was the one making the raspiest noises. Flip winced and covered his ears.
The engine clunked away…as if it were about to grind up its metal bearings and chew the place apart. Black smoke trailed from the rear cowling, most of the foul air sucked out by a high-speed air fan and tube. The engine misfired, rattling its housing something fierce.
Flip grimaced. “Doesn’t sound too good, Regers. I hope you got some ideas here because I know jack shit about mechanics.”
Useful information, Flip, thanks for the tip.
Regers set down his piece of metal and toyed with the front cowling, a scowl on his lips. His hands, already smeared in oil, lifted in a wry gesture. His eyes caught sight of a two-foot-long metal rod stuck in a side pocket of the engine housing, along with a grease gun and cobwebs. As he lifted the manifold and poked around under the cowl, he frowned and shook his head, scratched at his cheek, leaving another smear of black grease.
Flip wrinkled his nose.
“What we got here is a burnt solenoid,” explained Regers patiently. “Look for yourself.”
“Solenoid? What the fuck’s that?”
It’s a starter engine, dumbass. You don’t know that though, do you?
Grunting a disparagement, Flip stuck his nose in. Faster than a snake, Regers snatched up the rod and struck the scum killer in the head with its steel end. A most wicked club crunch. A knee came up into Flip’s nose, breaking it and smashing something delicate in the brain. Flip toppled in a limp heap.
“Dumb fuck.” Regers stomped on the fingers of his gun hand, breaking them, kicked the gun away. He dragged the motionless bulk into the utility room, pulled the
