"The Dirty Pair:

Don't Have A Cow, Man!"

By Brian Hendrickson

PROLOGUE

"Darling! Do my back, will you?" The wristwatch alarm worn by the alien girl in the tiger-skin bikini chirped like some annoying synthetic cricket, signaling that it was time for her to roll over and apply more suntan oil. The shadows from the light of sun-one and sun-two off the mile-high resort hotels that lined the beach crept slowly toward her as the last of the triple suns passed overhead in the deep green sky of noon-three. Another five minutes or so and she would be in the shade again.

"Darling?" With a grunt of frustration she felt around for the tube, squirted a generous helping of suntan oil onto her palm and began to rub it on her arms and shoulders herself. Although obviously humanoid, (and by most humanoid standards very nicely proportioned, it should be noted), her long flowing hair had a bluish-green tint which, though a bit odd, was not at all unattractive. Two small brownish-yellow calcium knobs protruded from either side of the top of her head, giving the suggestion of devil's horns.

"Darling!" she called out once more, but still there was no response.

At that precise moment, her "Darling" was returning from the concession stands carrying two cardboard drink boxes full of soda, in no particular hurry to get back—in fact, he had bypassed the first two stands he'd seen just so he could extend his trip a little. Lucky for "Darling", the microminiaturized cooling units in the boxes would keep the drinks ice cold for up to three hours if necessary.

The beaches of Planet Calista certainly lived up to their cosmopolitan reputation. There were more beautiful girls here than he had seen in his entire life. Every shape, size, color and species imaginable—and the swimsuits! A willowy blonde in a PlastiSkin spray-on job had just caught his eye when a two year-old in a sun hat and a diaper dashed in front of him, followed by her harried four year-old older sister.

"Shelby! Mom says to come back right now!"

"Darling" quickly jerked back his leg to avoid stepping on the two year-old. The four year-old slammed into his leg, spun him and his sodas into the side of the three foot high "Boom Box" which had nearly gotten itself smashed and its owner lynched for blasting Retro-Techno-Syntho-Neo-Hip-Hop at deafening volume up until ten minutes ago, and deposited him right at the foot of a beach chair.

To his amazement, "Darling" discovered that neither his leg nor his drinks had come to any harm. He was even more amazed at the sight of the exquisite female feet resting on the end of the beach chair. It occurred to him that they just might be the most perfect feet he'd ever seen. (True, that particular shade of red nail polish was a little tacky, but even so...) As his eyes traveled from toes to ankles and on up the calves, the view only seemed to get better. The legs seemed to go on forever. The muscles were taught and nicely defined. Clearly the girl worked out.

"Darling" got up on one knee for a better look at the rest of the scenery. He fought back a small twinge of disappointment when he realized that she wasn't wearing a PlastiSkin suit. Still, the old-fashioned lime green bikini nicely displayed what was visible. Somewhere at the edge of his peripheral vision he had a vague impression of flaming red hair and piercing jade green eyes.

"Hey Babe," said "Darling" in his most seductive voice, "got any plans for tonight?" Had he been able to tear his eyes away from her cleavage, he would have seen a young woman peering over the top of her oh, so fashionable sunglasses to check out the gangly Asian teenager taking inventory of her assets. He would have also seen the "Give Me A Break" look spread across her face, and he just might also have noticed that the oversized volume of Marcel Proust she had been ostensibly studying was, in fact, upside down—it might have prepared him for what was to come.

"Well I'm kind of busy," the girl said sweetly, "but I bet my knee could find time to get together with your groin."

"Darling" quickly adjusted his position to get more comfortable—his leg was falling asleep from crouching—and to put himself out of knee range. Finally, he got around to her face. Humanoid, strong lines, high cheekbones... Russian or Slavic background... maybe a little Irish to get the red hair. Now, most men admire women. "Darling" considered himself a connoisseur -- even if he didn't have the slightest idea what the word actually meant. "Seriously though," he pressed on, "Are you doing anything tonight?"

"'Seriously?'" The redhead considered for a bit. "Well, at the moment, I'm 'seriously' thinking about getting a twenty-four hour memory wipe." The girl flashed a dazzling smile. "I have a feeling that before this is all over, I'm going to want to erase every last snippet of this conversation from my brain."

"Kei!" The raven-haired girl in the next beach chair gave the redhead a nudge with her elbow.

"What is it, Yuri?" "Darling" filed away the names "Kei" and "Yuri" for future reference. Like a mynah bird attracted to a shiny object, his eyes were now drawn to Kei's companion. Like her redheaded friend, Yuri also opted for a modest "traditional" bikini, this one in bright yellow. Though just as fit as Kei, Yuri's body seemed a little less "sculpted"—a bit more curvy and feminine–and not quite so busty. Still, that long silky black hair, those enormous blue eyes and those pouting red lips were to die for!

Perhaps they're friends, thought "Darling". Perhaps they're good friends! The mathematical possibilities were dizzying but, as usual, "Darling" was missing the forest for the trees. While taking in every detail of the girls' exquisite physiques, he failed to notice the small DataPad in Yuri's hand flashing screens full of urgent information, which she then passed on to her companion.

Kei reached under her beach chair. One by one she began meticulously snapping, sliding and screwing a series of mechanical contraptions together, apparently assembling them into a single unit. "Darling" had never seen such a strange device and for the briefest of moments, he was actually distracted from surveying the girls' physical attributes to puzzle over how Kei had managed to fit all that stuff underneath her beach chair...

A forty-ish housewife in a huge flowered Hawaiian muumuu shook her head as she spotted "Darling's" fiancée stalking down the beach in search of her beau. The alien girl's unreasoning jealousy and fiery temper, combined with "Darling's" almost compulsive need to hit on practically anything with a double helping of x chromosomes had already become the stuff of legend around the resort.

"Typical", the alien girl snorted. Planets would crumble, civilizations fall, stars go nova, universes collapse, but "Darling" would never change.

"Darling" spotted her out of the corner of his eye. Was he just imagining it, or was that really steam coming out of his girlfriend's ears?

Call it cosmic coincidence or divine deliverance; either way it was just then that the surrounding resort hotels -- and every other building in the resort city -- were shaken to their foundations by a tremendous explosion. "Darling", his girlfriend, Kei, Yuri and everyone else who had been standing at that moment suddenly weren't standing anymore.

The blast had come from the nearby Calista Planetary Federal Reserve Bank, the Central Bank for the Proxima Centauri System. The huge plume of smoke and concrete dust slowly settled to the ground, accompanied by the tinkle of glass raining down from dozens of shattered windows of the surrounding buildings and the dozens of car and burglar alarms screaming for attention. Passersby lifted up their heads from the "duck and cover" positions they had assumed, amazed that they were still in one piece. A few of the bank's guards, however, weren't so fortunate.

It was then that the machines emerged from the smoldering hole where the bank's front doors used to be—five of them, each three meters tall, made up of spheres and cylinders and jointed like some massive child's action figure. Their long metal arms and five-fingered hands extended below their steel-jointed knees, giving them the appearance of gigantic mechanical gorillas. Missile clusters, pulse laser cannons and .50 caliber machine guns bristled from their shoulders and forearms. Barely visible through the SteelGlass faceplates in the torsos were the outlines of their human operators surrounded by blinking LED's and video displays. Most of the onlookers had seen the holovids from the fighting near the belt of Orion but very few had ever seen military-type powered armor battlesuits this close before.

The shipment of gold bullion awaiting transfer to the Main Gold Depository on Calista's southern continent was supposed to be top secret. Now the mechanical monsters carried the precious metal ingots resting on their wooden forklift pallets like waiters carrying covered dishes on dinner trays.

A small group of policemen appeared from around a nearby corner, followed by a single patrol vehicle. From inside his suit, Solomon Quade, master thief and leader of the gang, smiled to himself. The plan had taken everything into account. The beat cops would have only side arms. The officers in the patrol car might have a couple of pulse rifles—if the city had been in a generous mood this last budget cycle. It would be five to ten minutes before the SWAT team would arrive, and even a well-equipped team would be prepared to deal only with civilian threats. It would be at least another fifteen minutes before the military could even begin to muster the kind of firepower needed to deal with armored battlesuits. With a bit of luck, the thieves would be off planet long before then.

One of the beat cops fumbled for his DataPad. A single missile from one of the machines ended both the call for help and the life of Patrolman Jacob T. Wakowski. The other cops dived for cover as a second missile totaled their patrol car.

From deep inside the metal behemoths came the whine of high-speed turbines. A small cloud of dust stirred around the monsters' feet as the machines were gently lifted about a quarter of an inch off the pavement. Small thrusters built into the machine's backpack instrument clusters fired, propelling them forward. Gliding on a thin cushion of air, they sped off towards the sea.

Recovered from the initial blast, "Darling" maneuvered himself into a sitting position next to Kei's beach chair. He tried to brush the sand from his chest but was finding it difficult to do without getting it in the drink boxes—which, by some miracle, still hadn't spilled.

Kei, by that time, had nearly finished assembling her strange device. As it came together, it began to look more and more like some kind of a weapon—a bit too big for a bazooka, but a bit too small for an artillery piece. She snapped the last component into place—evidently some kind of telescopic sight. Though it looked far too heavy for a mere slip of a girl to handle by herself, Kei hefted it effortlessly up onto her shoulder and peered into the eyepiece.

"Darling's" curiosity was piqued.

"What is that thing?"

"T-160 Pulse Cannon", was her curt response as she fiddled with a series of small knobs on the side of the weapon. "Darling" could hear a low hum emanating from deep inside the device as it built up power.

The chain meant to keep unauthorized vehicles from driving out onto the beach was snapped like so much dental floss as the machines came whizzing through the public parking area behind them, knocking aside mag-lev cars and jet cycles like children tossing away unwanted toys. They glided off the pavement and out onto the sand.

Like Central Park pigeons fleeing from a yapping dog, the beach goers scattered. The huge behemoths' turbines blew great clouds of sand into the air as they charged relentlessly toward the sea then glided out onto the surface of the water.

About a half-kilometer off shore, the water began to churn and bubble. The long metallic proboscis of a submersible spacecraft thrust itself up through the boiling foam. The sleek, slender vessel shot straight up into the air and then crashed down again into the water, an enormous metal whale breaching the waves. As the thieves and their ill-gotten booty sped toward it, a hatch opened up in the side revealing a massive landing bay ready to receive them.

Kei checked the small liquid crystal display mounted just above the trigger handle on her weapon. The message "CHARGE AT 100" blinked reassuringly. She peered through the eyepiece again, made a couple of last minute adjustments and squeezed the trigger.

Those who had managed to get back to their feet after the bank explosion were knocked to the ground once more as a ball of pure neutron energy discharged from the barrel of the weapon and sailed over their heads. A gasp went up from the crowd. For a moment it was as if a new miniature sun had appeared in the sky. The pulsating ball of energy zoomed past the thieves and their power suits, slamming straight into the open landing bay of the spaceship.

At first it seemed as if the energy bolt had no effect whatsoever on the craft. There was an eerie stillness, and then the explosions began. Hatches blew out and hull plates ballooned as if some angry giant had tried to get out by slamming his fists into their insides. Once the devastation started it was all horrifyingly quick. Within a matter of seconds the vessel was scuttled. Tail first, it slipped back into the churning waves from whence it came and sank to the bottom of the bay.

In unison the thieves veered their power suits back toward shore and toward the source of the salvo that had destroyed their getaway vehicle. The plan had certainly not anticipated this particular turn of events. The deadly metal blossoms of their missile pod bays opened. Their sensors quickly keyed on the neutron trail left behind by the energy bolt and traced it back to its source.

Kei looked around. The other beach goers were now maintaining a respectful distance with the single exception of a fear-crazed "Darling" who stood frozen beside her beach chair still clutching his drinks, his face twitching uncontrollably, a trickle of drool at the corner of his mouth. Kei settled in behind a large ice chest filled with sports drinks.

"I think you made them mad," said Yuri dryly. She drew her sidearm out of her bag and squeezed off a few shots. Her small pulse laser would be useless against the machines' heavy armor but there were ways to do damage to the monsters if one knew just where to shoot.

"Ain't that just too bad," replied Kei. She peered through the eyepiece of the neutron cannon and lined up another shot as the thieves opened fire. The abandoned hot dog cart behind them went up in a gigantic fireball.

"Shame," Kei said, glancing over her shoulder. "He had good sauerkraut, too..."

"Can't stand sauerkraut," said Yuri, making a face.

"That is so you!" Kei said, shaking her head. "Nothing but mayonnaise and ketchup on a hot dog! In my old neighborhood that could get you burned at the stake for blasphemy!" The blast from her neutron cannon managed to decapitate one of the power suits—and its operator. Knocked head over heels (even if, technically, its head was now missing) by the impact, the machine tumbled lifelessly into the bay and sank from sight along with its golden booty. A moment later an eruption of bubbles stirred the surface, followed by a thin trail of machine oil mixed with blood.

"Some of us are concerned about our figures!" Yuri shot back as she took aim with her laser pistol. A carefully placed shot struck one of the behemoths just behind the protective metal "knee cap" on its right leg. The turbines in the damaged leg ground to a halt as the power cables in the knee joint were severed. With thrust coming from only one side, the suit was thrown off balance and tumbled into the water.

"Some of us have more to be concerned about than others," came Kei's catty reply.

Before Yuri could come up with a stinging retort, another blast went off in front of them, spraying sand everywhere.

"I'm never going to get all this out of my hair!" Yuri moaned.

"You should cut it short like mine," said Kei.

"I had it short in Junior High," said Yuri, brushing sand and bits of sauerkraut from her shoulders. "I looked like a total dork."

"Are you sure it was just the haircut?" snickered Kei. She took aim again and squeezed the trigger.

Nothing happened.

The small liquid crystal display was flashing: "RECHARGE TIME REQUIRED: 1 MIN 57 SEC"

Beneath the message, a small timer ticked off the seconds as the weapon built up a sufficient charge to fire again. Kei let out a grunt of disgust.

"I told them they should have sprung for the T-170!" she said, shaking her head. "You get at least five shots before you have to recharge!"

"Penny wise, pound foolish," Yuri shrugged. "That's the company for you."

The three remaining machines were now only a hundred yards from shore. Kei quickly punched in a numeric code and set the weapon aside.

"SAFETY LOCK ENGAGED" the display now read.

Kei felt around in the sand beside her.

"Damn! Where'd I put it?"

"You'd forget your head if it wasn't fastened on," snorted Yuri.

Kei began digging through her beach bag. Somewhere beneath the suntan oil, beach towels, fashion magazines and music discs, she located her sidearm. Another salvo from the three remaining machines sailed harmlessly over their heads and straight into the lobby of the nearby Calista Beach Resort Hotel, shattering every window on the ground floor.

Kei closed one eye and carefully sighted on the elbow joint of the machine to the right of the leader. Yuri took the machine on the left. Only a few more meters and they'd hit the beach. Yuri scored first, severing the hydraulic hose that ran to the machine's wrist. The precious golden cargo tumbled off his metal hand and into the surf. Before he had time to react, another shot took out a knee.

Three down…

"Lucky shot..." Kei snorted. This time she took aim at an RCS cluster extending from the right machine's back. A well-placed shot sent it spinning off into the ocean, and the now uneven thrust emanating from its back sent the machine skidding wildly off course and right into the side of a yacht passing by at that moment. The broadside quickly sank them both.

Four down…one to go.

"Somebody's going to have fun cleaning up all that gold from the bottom of the bay," Yuri noted.

"Not our department," Kei reminded her.

Out of the corner of his eye, Solomon Quade saw the last of the vidcom signals from his partner's power suits go dead. Now he was alone. The plan was now a shambles. Four years of preparation… assembling the team… stealing the powersuits… All for nothing…

His share of the stolen gold tumbled into the water. It wasn't important anymore. The only thing on his mind now was revenge... for Tank, Deke, Rollo... and Serena. Sure, they were mercenaries. Sure, they had all the loyalty of data-entry temps. Sure, they would've sold their grandmothers into slavery for a fast buck -- but they were his partners, and when your partners get killed you're suppose to do something about it. His grip tightened around the servo actuators, duplicating the grip by the machine's massive mechanical arms. Quade's machine glided up onto shore. The whine of the turbines and the roar of the RCS thrusters fell silent and the machine settled onto the sand. Slowly, a leg the size of a tree trunk lifted into the air. The machine began to walk forward towards Kei and Yuri. The two little bimbos with the big gun were about to become history.

Kei checked her neutron cannon. Still 45 seconds until it reached full charge. She couldn't count on picking off his hydraulics. He was on to that strategy by now. He was no longer moving under rocket power, so taking out his thrusters was no good. She rummaged around her beach bag. The short, cylindrical object she pulled out had a gnarled ring around its' middle. Kei twisted the ring about halfway around until it stopped with a satisfying click. A small LED readout began counting down from 60 seconds.

Kei leapt to her feet. She dived over the cooler and rolled to one side just as a spurt of machine gun fire threw up bursts of sand from the spot where she had just been. Tucking the cylindrical object under her arm like a football, she rushed forward, swivel hipping like a running back, dodging bullets left and right. Going into a slide that would have made DiMaggio proud, Kei came to rest directly between the huge machine's legs.

Quade knew immediately what was happening but there was nothing he could do about it. Sadly, the designers of the power suits had overlooked one fatal flaw in their brilliant creation. The machine's mechanical hands were, in fact, too large to reach between its own legs.

Kei scrambled out from under the behemoth and dived for cover behind the remains of the hot dog cart.

A series of explosive bolts detonated on the back of the machine, hurling the rear hatch backward into the ocean. Solomon Quade clawed his way out of his safety harness, clambered through the still smoldering hatchway and dropped down onto the sand in a low crouch. His steely gray eyes surveyed the situation on the ground, his sidearm ready. Kei and Yuri both had him in their sights -- if he emerged from behind the protective cover of the machine, they would open fire. The grenade, however, was the more pressing problem.

Quade went for broke, jumping out from behind the machine's leg and spraying the air with white-hot laser bolts. Beach goers, already cowering behind any available cover, were forced to scramble for safety yet again as their protection disintegrated.

Quade barely had time to throw himself into the water before his powersuit went up, spraying the entire beach with debris.

A metal hand landed in the sand in front of the hot dog cart and twitched as if in spasm with some sort of mechanical rigor mortis as the last trickle of power drained from its circuits. Then, the last of its energy exhausted, the thumb and three of the fingers folded in towards the palm, leaving only the middle finger extended in one last gesture of defiance. Resisting the temptation to laugh, Kei's eyes narrowed as she scanned the water for any sign of their quarry. Would he try to swim for it?

"Kei!" shouted Yuri. "There!"

Like some obscene Venus rising from the waves, Quade burst forth from the water, a pulse rifle in each hand, spraying laser bolts in all directions.

Unable to raise their heads, Kei and Yuri waited for an opening to resume fire. Quade now concentrated his attention on the hot dog cart. It wasn't going to hold up long. Kei nodded to Yuri and they quickly broke in opposite directions. Now he could shoot at only one of them at a time. Particularly annoyed at Kei, he focused his attention on her. Yuri took the opportunity to crack off a couple of shots. Quade jumped out of the way, rolled on his shoulder and came up firing. Kei had found cover behind the now abandoned lifeguard station. Distracted by Yuri, and with a well-placed shot from Kei, Quade's weapons disintegrated in his hands.

Victory seemed all but assured when all three of their eyes suddenly were drawn to the same spot. Kei's abandoned neutron cannon now lay invitingly within Quade's reach. The LCD readout now flashed: "CHARGE 100". With nothing to lose, Quade dived for the weapon, going into a roll as he scooped it up from the sand. He brought the stock to his shoulder, squinted through the eyepiece, and quickly drew a bead on Kei.

The crowd was dumbfounded. Kei could have picked him off easily before he could ever fire a shot. Instead, she calmly set down her weapon. Through the telescopic sight Quade got a good close look at her magnificent form as she rose to her feet and spread out her arms, as if daring him to shoot her.

His finger tightened on the trigger.

Nothing happened.

He tried again.

Again, nothing happened.

Quade brought the weapon down from his shoulder and looked at the LCD readout screen. It read: "SAFETY LOCK ENGAGED. ENTER SECURITY CODE".

Quade looked over toward his adversaries. Kei had picked up her gun once more. Joined by Yuri, the girls casually strolled down the beach toward him.

"It's all over, Quade." Kei called to him. From the streets behind them came the distant sound of approaching police sirens.

"You really messed things up for me good this time, 'Red', Quade called to her. "I had everything all figured out."

"Life's a bitch," Kei replied.

Figuring he had nothing to lose, Quade randomly punched numbers on the gun's keypad. The LCD screen flashed: "NOT AN AUTHORIZED CODE", then the message "STRIKE ONE". He punched in his birthday. Again, the gun told him that it was not an authorized code, and then told him "STRIKE TWO".

The sirens were getting closer.

"Let's get him!" Yuri ordered, waiting for some kind of backup from Kei—but her partner said nothing. Kei was standing beside her, weapon holstered, her arms folded. Yuri started forward. Kei shot out an arm to hold her back.

"They'll be here any minute, Quade." Kei said calmly. Puzzled, Yuri looked from one to the other. Evidently, Quade and her partner were both thinking the same thing, but for the life of her, Yuri couldn't even begin to guess what that was.

"You know the score, 'Red'," Quade said calmly. "I won't go back."

Kei nodded.

Quade punched in a final series of numbers. Across the LCD screen scrolled the message "NOT YOUR LUCKY DAY, IS IT?" followed by the message "STRIKE THREE".

A thin whine emanated from the body of the weapon as overload charge built up in its primary fusion chamber. It was then that Yuri realized what was happening and threw herself to the ground.

Kei never moved.

A brilliant white light erupted from the interior of the weapon and blossomed out into a fireball that swallowed everything within a twenty-foot radius. Approximately forty-two feet away, Kei stood motionless and expressionless.

The police cruisers were beginning to gather in the public parking area behind Kei and Yuri. SWAT teams in laser-resistant armor poured out of heavily armored vehicles, only to stop and stare in slack-jawed wonder at the carnage before them. The remains of Quade's powersuit still smoldered and the beach was pockmarked with burns and scorch marks from the firefight.

The beach goers, only now realizing that the battle was over, emerged from their hiding places.

Yuri brushed the sand from her midriff as she moved to Kei's side.

"Why'd you let him do that?" she demanded. "There was reward for him big enough to choke a horse if we brought him in alive!"

"He did me a favor once." Kei replied enigmatically. "I figured I owed him one in return." The look on her partner's face told Yuri that asking for details would be pointless, so she let the matter drop.

By now the beach goers were beginning to gather around them. Many of them seemed anxious to learn the reasons for what had just occurred. Yuri suspected that they might not be too happy with those reasons.

Kei located her beach bag and fished out her wallet.

"It's okay folks! There's nothing to worry about!" Kei shouted as she held her ID card over her head and swept it back and forth for everyone to see. "We're Trouble Consultants for the World Work Welfare Association on official business! Designation: 'Lovely Angels'."

A man in the crowd shouted, "3WA?" In different timbres and in myriad alien tongues, the name rippled through the assembled throng. "'Lovely Angels'?" Then the realization finally hit.

"DIRTY PAIR!" screamed a woman carrying a small child. Almost as one, the crowd turned on its heels and fled the beach; nearly trampling the approaching police and SWAT teams as they went. Kei and Yuri found themselves alone – all except for "Darling". He was still right where they had left him, still twitching, still drooling and still holding his drink boxes.

"What? WHAT?" shouted Kei at the retreating masses. "You blow up a couple of planets and people treat you like you're some kind of a jinx or something!"

"IT WASN'T OUR FAULT!" the girls shouted in unison.

Yuri began gathering up their gear while Kei folded their beach chairs. Kei reached over and relieved "Darling" of the two drink boxes.

"Thanks, Sport!" she said, giving him a peck on the cheek. She handed one of the boxes to Yuri and they started up the beach toward the parking area where the paramedics were beginning to treat the wounded.

"Darling's" fiancee, the alien girl in the tiger skin bikini, appeared next to him.

"Darling?" she queried, "What happened Where have you been? What's been taking you so long?"

"She kissed me," he said, rubbing his cheek. He knew what would happen next. Like the rest of her species, the alien girl could generate massive amounts of electricity from her body—particularly when she was angry—and especially when she was jealous—which seemed to be most of the time.

Yet, somehow in "Darling's" twisted, sex-obsessed brain it was all worth it…