Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction ❯ In a Sentimental Mood ❯ Chapter 6

"Lenny. So that's the name he's using here on Earth," Spike said to himself as he flew in the direction the bartender instructed him. "Wonder why Vicious didn't have that bit of information?"

 

Spike had been flying long enough for the alcohol he consumed at the bar to wear off. He thought this day would never happen, but now that it was here, all he wanted was to get it over with. A headache was beginning to form square between his eyes with every sign of getting worse before it got better.

 

"Shit!"

 

A meteorite the size of a large dog fell just in front of the Swordfish. Spike looked up just in time to bank the ship away from another large falling chunk of rock. Flying sideways, he noticed how barren and scarred the ground below had become. No life could withstand the constant barrage of attacks assaulting the land.

 

"So this is the meteor zone. Should be interesting." Spike grinned with renewed energy. He loved a challenge; especially when flying a life-or-death obstacle course.

 

He weaved in and out between meteorites of all sizes, keeping himself aimed in the general direction he wanted to head. It was impossible to dodge them all. He had to let some of the smaller ones strike the Swordfish in order to avoid large ones that could permanently cripple the ship. Adrenaline coursed through his veins and he was wrapped in a blanket of calm confidence. Letting his instincts and reflexes take over, he maneuvered easily through the shower of boulders, some of which still burned from their descent through the atmosphere.

 

A large mound caught his attention and he circled around it to get a closer look. It seemed like a buildup of rock and dust that had grown steadily over a long period of time.

 

"What the hell? How could there be anything but craters in a place like this?"

 

"Hey! You in the ship! Can you hear me?"

 

Spike's eyebrows lifted in surprise at the voice coming from his radio. He dodged a chunk of rock almost the size of the Swordfish before switching on the receiver.

 

"I hear you," he answered. "Who's this?"

 

The voice ignored his question. "There's a meteor storm on its way. You better head north while you got the chance."

 

"If this is Lenny, then I can't do that. You're the reason I'm here."

 

There was a pause before a sigh whispered through the speakers. "Then listen and listen good. Keep an eye on the top of the mountain. In a minute there will be a spray of rock from the top. Stay clear until then. When you see the hole, head straight into it. Be quick about it. I can't keep it open for long."

 

"Gotcha," Spike replied and swung around to give the pile of rocks a wide berth.

 

The spray was more like a blast. A volcano erupting, spewing dry rock and dust into the air instead of fire and molten lava. Through the debris settling at the mountain's base, he was just able to make out the hole that led inside. The Swordfish shook from the pull of gravity as Spike banked hard and spun nose-first into the heart of the mountain.

 

"That was some fancy flying," the voice said as Spike eased the ship's wheels onto a dimly lit landing pad.

 

"Thanks," Spike said and turned off the ignition. The engine whining down sounded like a weary sigh of exhaustion. With a sigh of his own, he lovingly patted the dashboard. "She's a good ship."

 

"Come on downstairs. I can't wait to meet the pilot."

 

"I'll bet," Spike said to himself as he jumped down from the cockpit. "This should be interesting."

 

The room was enormous. Large enough to house the Bebop with room to spare. Overhead, the entrance had closed tightly against the constant assault of meteorites. The only lighting came from a ring of small electric bulbs around the landing pad, plunging the far walls in darkness. The air was warm and close with a slight odor of dampness although the surface was dry desert.

 

His feet echoed across the metal floor as he made his way toward a winding stairway leading down deep into the mountain. A curious glowing substance lined the bottom of each step, making it easier to safely descend to the lower level.

 

"In here."

 

Spike followed the sound toward the only lighted doorway at the end of the tubular hallway. It looked to be part control room, part kitchen, part living quarters with dirty dishes and clothing crowding around blinking lights and display screens. A man sat in one of two command style chairs in the middle of the room, his back to his unexpected guest.

 

"So you must be Lenny," Spike said, leaning against the doorway. Although his arms were casually crossed, his fingertips rested on the butt of his gun in case this was a trap.

 

"And you must be the best damn pilot in the solar system," Lenny returned without moving from his seat. "Are you as good at shooting as you are at flying?"

 

Spike's eyebrows rose. Did this guy already know why he was here? Even though there was no way he could get the drop on him, Spike's fingers twitched closer to his gun. "I'd guess you could say that."

 

"Good. Then get over here and give me a hand," he ordered, motioning toward the other chair.

 

Cautiously, Spike walked closer, studying Lenny as he went. A balding old man dressed in rumpled clothes that looked a couple sizes too big, there was still a faint ghost of familiarity to him even through the scruffy beard and wrinkles. His eyes were hidden behind dark glasses, but his fingers worked quickly over the controls before him.

 

"Sit down. Pick up that gun there and put on those glasses. Hurry up now, we don't have much time."

 

"What's going on?" Spike asked even as he followed orders. The gun sat light in his palm, small and made of plastic but a comfortable fit. When he brought the glasses to his eyes, the scenery abruptly changed and he jerked back in his seat as a rock flew passed him, barely missing his head. He looked around and realized he was outside in the middle of the meteor storm.

 

"You know how simulation programs work, don't you?" Lenny's voice sounded close beside him, but was nowhere to be seen in the violent landscape. "Just aim and shoot at anything falling. The big ones may need more than one hit."

 

Spike raised the plastic gun and squeezed the trigger. Although he wasn't sure what he expected to happen, he was a little disappointed in the way his target silently vanished. No sound of gunfire, no explosion, not even falling debris showing the rock was destroyed. Again and again he fired with the same results.

 

"Don't I even get to see how many points I've got?" he joked, taking out a large, burning rock with three shots.

 

"I know it doesn't seem that exciting, but those are actual meteors falling toward us. That gun is connected to a laser cannon outside. You move, it moves. You pull the trigger, it fires. And if the large ones aren't broken up, they could break that force field you came through and make a crater of this whole place. So try not to miss and kill us."

 

"Yes, sir," he answered with a wry smile. If the old man wanted to see some fancy shooting, Spike was more than willing to comply. For nearly an hour, he fired meteors of all sizes with his simulated gun, only missing a few of the smallest ones while he shot at the bigger ones. Neither of them spoke the entire time, but Spike knew his host was still there by the sound of his deep raspy breath and occasional coughing fit.

 

"Bored yet?" Lenny asked when there was finally a break in the falling threat.

 

"It's not something I'd want to do as a career," Spike admitted. His hand and arm ached from holding the gun and his eyes were tired from the constant digital stimulus from the glasses. "I can't see why you would want to live out here and have to do this all day."

 

"I don't," he answered. Spike heard the flick of a switch and the display before his eyes was covered with a narrow grid and small computerized words blinked at the lower corner of his view.

 

Taking off the glasses, he chuckled and shook his head at Lenny. "Automatic Defense Grid? Your laser has an automatic mode and you made me sweat all this time thinking we'd be dead if I missed a shot?"

 

"I didn't hear you complaining," Lenny said, removing his own glasses and rubbing his eyes. "Besides, it was a good test for the wireless simulator system. I'm just glad it didn't overheat. You're not a bad gunman."

 

"Thanks. Glad I was available to be your guinea pig." Spike tossed the gun and glasses on the console and stood to stretch his muscles. Lenny carefully set his glasses down and turned his chair so he could reach the cane leaning against a display screen. With a certain amount of difficulty, he pushed himself to his feet and hobbled over to a stuffed armchair next to a cluttered table.

 

"So what brings an ace pilot sharpshooter to my door?" he asked, nodding to the chair on the other side of the table.

 

Spike sat on the edge of the chair, his hands dangling between his knees. Now that he was here, the man he thought he'd never see again sitting casually before him, he wasn't sure of his next move. The speech planned so many years ago fled, leaving him grasping for something to say. Before he could stop it, the first thing that came to mind spouted from his mouth.

 

"There's a bounty on your head and I'm here to bring you in…Dad."