The Four Baristas: Double Shot

Chapter 16

Crouched behind one of its few remaining sections of wall, Mel looked over the desolate wasteland stretched out before the ex-restaurant. To the upturned and smoking tanks and armoured personnel carriers which dotted the hellish vista, she paid little mind. For the wrecks of the two fighter jets burning merrily at either end what had once been the carpark, she spared barely a glance. And to the several dozen Rigellian soldiers lying in various attitudes and states of disrepair across the cratered and torn landscape, she gave no attention whatsoever.

No. For her gaze and interest lay beyond all this, on the barricaded defensive perimeter behind which she assumed and very much hoped were more potential recipients of her special brand of payback. After all, she still had so much more to give.

Spotting a telltale glimmer of movement behind the stout barriers, the grin which had been planted on her face for the past hour or so widened. "Hey, Kiko."

Hunkered down in the relative safety of a crater which had probably once been the wine cellar, the young woman looked up and responded with a resigned, "Yes?" 

Mel hefted a half-brick, retrieved from one of the piles of rubble around them. "Watch this." Taking careful aim, the barista launched her missile in a high, arcing and—testament in part to her netball skills, but mostly to her status as a superpowered, unholy amalgamation of science and nature—freakishly accurate parabola towards her unfortunate target. The missile struck home and the movement she had glimpsed ceased, just moments before a faint but gratifying, "Ow!" carried to them across the intervening distance.

"Aw, yeah." With a pebble, Mel added another line to the growing tally she'd scratched onto the wall. "Another one bites the dust."

Kiko just had time for a tired, "Yay—only a few billion to go," before the usual retaliatory volley of missiles and small-arm fire came crashing into their culinary fortress, and—her sheltering wall crumbling—Mel dived headlong into the crater, flipping a joyous bird at their attackers along the way.

"Oof."

The Earthling glanced over at Kiko. "What are you oofing for? I didn't even land anywhere near you." 

"Me? I didn't oof, you big silly. If anyone oofed around here, it must have been you."

Mel dusted herself off. "Kiko, do I seem like an oofer to you?"

"Well, I suppose not. But if you didn't oof and I didn't oof, then who..?"

"Er, excuse me."

The two women stared at each other. The muffled voice seemed to have come from the very rubble upon which they sat.

"I'm frightfully sorry," it continued, "but I'm afraid it was me who oofed. I do hope you'll forgive my impoliteness. I really didn't mean to oof. It's just that I'm rather stuck, and when something happened to fall on me, an oof just sort of came out. It was very rude, I know, and I apologise for interrupting the no doubt very important things you young ladies are occupied with. Please carry on and I'll just lie here under the rubble and stay as quiet as can be, I promise."

"But...but, who are you?" asked Kiko, staring wide-eyed at the piles of masonry. "How did you get down there?" She had no sooner asked the question than her mind presented her with a rapid-fire slideshow of bangs, explosions and architectural carnage which summarised the past hour. "Actually, never mind that. Let's see about getting you out."

"Getting him out?" queried Mel. "Who's to say that's not some Rigellian shortarse down there? If he comes pre-buried, that's practically a bonus."

"Oh, Mel. Of course he's not a Rigellian. Do you really think one of them would be so polite?"