Dipshits in Space: Season 6

68: To Kill a Mocking Rayth

Izzy gave a sweet, yet still tusk-y grin as she dusted the flower off her apron and carried the cookies to the Man-cave...a literal cave in the moon base full of manly shit. Kyll looked nervously back, almost as if he was up to something in her absence.

"I'm sorry he's running so late. The game must be having an overtime thing." She sighed, setting down the snacks.

"No, that's my fault. I couldn't remember if he said 7 or 8 so I just guessed, I didn't wanna be late, it's embarrassing." he scoffed, playfully taking a cookie and nodding in delight. "Excellent snacks, Ma'am. I hate to ask, but it's so silly, I'm a bit socially awkward and this is just so like me to be early. Can I loiter till he gets here and you could just tell him I arrived maybe ten minutes early?" he silently chuckled.

"No problem. As long as you don't tell him I let you in here without the security scan. I know he invited you, but we're on lockdown all the time now, and he'd be upset if he knew I forgot and waved you in without retinal scans." she pooh-poohed.

"No harm done. I hope I'm not being nosey, but why the security?" he asked, dunking his cookie in some blue milk.

"Family issue, it's personal." she said, smiling sadly through her smile.

"I'm very sorry I mentioned it. If you want, I can go do the retina scan now and fudge the time-stamp."

"Thanks, it's the last thing I need right now is another speech and a fight about how I screwed up protocol again. He means well, and he's technically right, but we're under a lot of stress and I just can't deal with another lecture. Scanner is down the hall, I'll set the pass-filter so you can reset the clock."

"It's really no problem at all." he nodded politely.

He whistled and removed the cover-screws, casually yet briskly, as he stuffed the key-cracker in the panel and changed the time stamp. He dialed down the override controls. He took out his phone, waving to make sure no Izzy was around.

"I'm in the system...this is happening, be ready." he said darkly in an unnatural gruff tone. "I don't care if it's a holiday, get it done. We have a mission and a target, this one will be one for the books...except it's off the books for security reasons. Send him the package, and make sure he's ready to go at a moment's notice. Plan B? Obviously get that ready too, Hummingbirds with laser drills, 40,000 at least. Okay fine then 30,000 will have to work. Be home by 7...yea, love you too." he said, hanging up. He took a picture of the panel and another one of the security door down the hall.

He strolled back to the den and sat down as Izzy arrived with a refill of blue milk.

"Here you go, he's just arrived at the airlock. I believe you arrived right before he did?" she smirked with a wink.

"Perfect timing." he agreed, slurping awkwardly. "Mhmmm, that's good alien Moo-moo." he chuckled to himself. The big door opened and Greg shuffled in, armored to the teeth and covered in blood. "Oh hey!" he waved as he tried to hug Izzy, who gave him a look that objected based on the combination of her new white apron and the fact that he had at least a pint of viscera on his armor.

"Have fun?" She smiled, handing him a frosty brew.

"You saw the game, right? We lost 23 to 40." he said, casually flinging his helmet across the room.

"Greg you can't be good at every sport, now we just know a sport you really suck at."

"It's called Homicide-ball, Izzy, I'm great at most sports and most things involving homicide. The fact that killing people on the court doesn't win the game, is misleading."