Chapter 28: Truth or Dare
Little Cato was going to make them regret this.
No. Scratch that. Regret was too weak and short a word for what they had coming to them. They were going to be sorry on a scale so unprecedented that generations from now, their great-grandkids were going to be wandering around and wondering what the heck they had done to deserve being descended from the stupidest pack of bone-headed, stinky, kidnapping slavers on record. This was going to haunt them. End them. That was providing, of course, they lived long enough to produce a next generation. Given what Little Cato knew his father was capable of when he got riled, odds were against it. He had seen his father in action, and General Avocato would think absolutely nothing of killing every single slaver in this troop, everyone they knew, owed money to, their families, their pets, and if he was pissed enough, he'd probably wipe out their whole base of operations plus a few major cities on whatever dumpy planets these morons had been kicked off of.
Yeah. A pretty hellish lesson to learn, and Avocato was a surprisingly good teacher. Few people could dish out revenge as well as his sire.
That his father would find him, Little Cato had zero doubt. Geegua Spaceport and Zee Secundus would, quite literally, be torn apart. Without anything resembling mercy. Once upon a time, not long after Avocato took command, the secondary mate of General Cinti had been seized by Erd rebels when she had gone home to Pha Kered to see her family. Avocato's response to their demands had been to blockade the entire planetary system, cutting off all supplies and escape routes, and parking Incinerators over every city and settlement known to harbor the rebel faction. Only one city and two settlements had been reduced to craters before the message got through loud and clear that General Avocato would take action against allied planets as easily as enemy ones. Cinti's mate was released and the populace turned in the rebels, executing all they could lay their claws on. That was for the secondary mate of a general Avocato didn't even particularly respect, but it made for a good object lesson for the next slew of idiots who wanted to strike at the Tera Con Empire. For Avocato's only kid? Zee Secundus was toast and this pack of slavers would be better off eating their own blaster bolts.
Until then, Little Cato felt it his duty to give them a taste of what they had coming. His father had once told him it's the duty of a prisoner of war to try to escape in order to tie up as many of the enemy forces as possible. Well, he was a prisoner and he'd just declared war, so it was time to get to work.
He had almost wiggled free when they had removed the restraints to put him in this cage. A few seconds more and he would have made it to the door, too. If nothing else, his attempt had stirred up the hundred or so other aliens held in similar pens in this stinky, filthy, dank, dark warehouse. After this, Little Cato promised himself he'd actually clean his room when he got back to the Crimson Light. Running around and across the cages, dodging the cursing slavers, his antics had roused shouts of encouragement and a huge rattling of cages until he was netted, and he was given his own personal guard posted just a few feet away. It had taken the slavers a good long while to calm their captives down and get them quiet again. Little Cato knew he had to stall for time, and he also knew it was time for a bit of schoolyard-quality smack talk.
And seriously, when it came down to 'my father' comparisons, no had ever managed to beat Little Cato. Not once. It was statistically impossible. There was simply no topping the number two in command of the largest empire in the universe.
But now he realized something more: his father had known all along what would happen here. He had known . . . and forearmed his son with a plan of action. Little Cato didn't know what the outcome would be, his dads didn't either, not yet, but the Avocato who raised him and gave him martial arts and shooting instructors and taught him how to debate and hack computers and engineering and how to read people back on Tera Con Prime, he knew what would happen. The fact that breaking out of eight-cycle locks hadn't been included in his education told Little Cato that he was better off waiting for rescue and that the cavalry was on the way. Boring as it might be, he just had to hang out until the Dads arrived with guns blazing.
Something about the cycloptic lump in charge of this pack of slave dealers stirred something in Little Cato's memory. Just like his father was compiling a to-do list of things he needed to attend in the next decade to ensure the future worked out to bring their odd little family back together, Little Cato was gradually realizing that he was on the receiving end of a lot of items on that list, including some very strict advice from his father for this precise scenario.
What would it be like to have such an exact blueprint of future events? So much of his childhood was making sense now, and he realized his father had been smart, not nutso like he'd thought. How many times had he asked, "Why do I have to know this?" only to be told, "Trust me, you'll need it some day." It was small wonder his younger old man was walking around with a constant headache.
"You slimers had better have your affairs in order," he warned, fighting the instinct to grip the bars. He needed to stand apart from everyone else here and keep himself constantly in their attention. He needed to buy his dads time by wasting as much of the slavers' time as possible. "When my dad gets here, you'll all be dead before your bodies hit the dirt."
Not that he was going to mention the whole two dads thing he had going on, but he was talking about Avocato, of course. Gary, when he arrived, would be focused on getting him out of this display case while the general would be eliminating the threat. Not a bad plan, actually. It wasn't as if Gary couldn't or wouldn't shoot the place up and the slave dealers with it, it was just that Avocato had decades of combat training under his belt and could take out the slavers and his frustrations without harming the captives (or himself) and not lose a moment of sleep over it.
The assembled crew of lowlifes snorted and laughed, taking his friendly suggestion as pure bravado.
"Oh, yeah, kid?" the ringleader asked, leaning over to peer at him through the bars of the cage. Little Cato had the satisfaction of seeing a greenish bruise forming on the thug's lavender cheek where he'd managed to land a knee strike and a kick. It had taken took four of them to overwhelm one of him back in the docking bay, and about ten of them had scrambled after him during his escape attempt. That was a lot of people for one kid.
"Uh, yeah," he snarked back. Really, it was almost embarrassing to have been caught by this crew. "You're a Kormidorn, aren't you?" demanded Little Cato.
"And you're Ventrexian. What of it?"
He raised his finger thoughtfully, as if trying to remember something, and deliberately walked a circuit of his small cell. "My dad told me that when I get caught by a Kormidorn, I should always tell the truth."
The slaver frowned at that 'when' and grunted, "Truth about what?"
Little Cato smiled, warming up to the advice and the opportunity to mess with everyone within earshot. "Whatever you ask."
The Kormidorn gave him a look as if he – or at least, his father – was out of his mind. His one eye narrowed as he played along. "Okay, kid. What's your name?"
"Did you really have to go there first?" Little Cato sighed dramatically as a few more of the slavers gathered round to listen. "You're going to make me say it, aren't you? How about you just call me Little Cato like everyone else does?"
"All right, Little Cato – what's your name?"
Another sigh for dramatic effect. "If you want to get technical, my name is Avocato the Second of House Cato. But nobody calls me that, not even my dad when I'm in trouble."
The title meant nothing to them. "So, who's this big bad daddy of yours?"
"Lord Avocato, third son of Grand Lord Catomar VI of House Cato and Princess Mewmew." Snickers and sounds of disbelief followed this grandiose announcement, just as Little Cato hoped. "But!" he added brightly, "You might recognize my dad by his other titles."
The Kormidorn's one eye rolled impatiently and with growing suspicion. "What's that, then?"
Little Cato looked his captor squarely. "General Avocato, Supreme Military Commander of the Tera Con fleet and second of the Tera Con Empire."
There was a moment of hushed astonishment at this brazen announcement, and then the Kormidorn slaver barked a laugh. It took a few more seconds before his fellows joined, but there was a distinct hint of nervousness in the sound they made. Little Cato kept his smirk to himself. That was exactly the response he'd hoped for. Wait until they found out he was telling the truth.
"Right, and I'm the Lord Commander," snickered one of the other slavers.
He looked the alien over for effect and shook his head. "Uh, no. You're way too tall and ugly," provided Little Cato, prompting more laughter.
"Nice try, kid, but Avocato," said the leader, deliberately omitting the general's title, "is dead. His ship Kalibar blew up and took him with it."
In a flash, all humor and sarcasm vanished from Little Cato's demeanor. "You sure about that?"
He was daring them to ignore his warnings. Another hush, and then the Kormidorn got pissed at how quickly and easily his crew proved they were a set of gullible cowards in front of this lying brat who was going to be sold as a toy to some filthy-rich prince in the galactic hub.
"And what would General Avocato's kid be doing in Geegua Spaceport to begin with?" he demanded.
Knowing he had won this round pretty handily, Little Cato shrugged and stuck to the truth. "Waiting for the Tera Con fleet to arrive. What else?"
As far as bluffs went, it was pretty effective. He had them on edge and Little Cato knew the seed of doubt had been planted. It would have been even better except that less than an hour later, Gary Goodspeed, a little worse for wear and with a bleeding lip, was dragged in fighting and cursing, to be chucked into the cage right next to him. Just as Little Cato had done the moment he'd been released, Gary surged up against the slaver in a bid to escape. The move was a little clumsy and they were ready for him. Being a much larger target, Gary didn't stand a chance and was thrown down to the bottom of the pen. The slavers lost interest in him the moment he was secure and stepped away, turning their backs and giving them a chance to talk.
"Thunder Bandit!" squeaked Little Cato softly, crouching low to look his vice-dad in the eye. "Are you okay!"
"Spider Cat!" Despite the blood and bruises, Gary was thrilled to see his Ventrexian son. He slowly sat up and gingerly probed at the wounds on his face. "I'm good now! How are you? You look good! Not hurt?"
"Ready to get out," he hinted firmly.
"Yeah, about that . . ."
"Gary . . . what are you doing here?"
He gave his kid a bit of a self-deprecating grin and a shrug. "Well, I promised your dad I'd find you."
Little Cato stared, realizing there was no plan, no backup, just the usual seat-of-the-pants flying they always did. Great. His dad was just as caught as he was. But there was no denying . . .
"Well," he replied with the same look and shrug, "you found me. I kinda wish you'd promised to get me back."
A quick wink was cast his way. "Working on it, kiddo."
"Work faster. I gotta pee."