“Status report,” Sissyko inquired of no one in particular.
The others all hesitated, and then Bayleaf said, “All systems nominal, sir.”
“Just once!” snapped the acting captain. “Just once it’d be nice to have something happen on our shift! Oh, what’s the point? Never mind. Someone phone down to the Falangee Bar on Deck Forty-Seven. I want a piña colada and a pickled onion sent up here immediately!”
“On it, sir,” said Eye-Jay-Kay-El, scratching at the facial rash everyone else thought was a tattoo. “Patching the order through to Ob Nox. Uh, that’ll be three bars of laudanum.”
“That would be vials, surely.”
“Mhm, he said ‘bars’ sir. I think Ob’s a bit confused again, it being the middle of the night.”
“Look outside!” Sissyko cried. “It’s always the middle of the night! Anyway, seems I left my wallet in my quarters. Odo Meter, you wouldn’t happen to…”
“Oh, fine!” muttered the Conglomeranian, transforming into three vials of laudanum.
“Ha!” barked Sissyko. “Won’t Ob Nox be surprised!”
“Hardly, sir,” said Bayleaf, “since you do this to him just about every time.”
“Are you calling me cheap, XO?”
“No sir, just abusive of your rank.”
“Ha! Aren’t we all?” He then lifted into view a baseball. “Someone play catch with me!”
A chorus of groans answered him.
“No, really! It’s an order! You, Nose-bash, here! A wicked curveball!” He whipped the baseball her way.
She made a desperate attempt to grab it, failed, and the ball shattered a screen on her console. “Oh crap, not again,” she said.
“At least this time it wasn’t your nose,” Sissyko laughed.
The door hissed open and in strode the Falangee Ob Nox, a tray balanced on one hand.
At which point the ship’s artificial gravity crashed.
Piña colada and pickled onion leapt skyward. The baseball rolled into the air and then raced toward an air duct. Yelping, Sissyko floated out of the command chair. The three vials of laudanum lifted off the chair where Odo Meter had been sitting. Alarms blared. The lights went out. On the main screen a warship materialized out of nowhere and fired a slew of depleted uranium pellets. The impacts rocked the Willful Child, sending bodies flying.
Sissyko made a desperate grab for the pickled onion. He missed. Pandemonium!
* * *
Amid Klaxons and flashing red lights, the door to the guest quarters opened and in strode a figure in a spacesuit, wearing magnetic boots and wielding a primed Glob-o-Maker Splat-Gun Mark III.
Flailing, Supreme Admiral Bill-Burt drew up her blanket in a futile gesture of modesty before the Glob-o-Maker fired. Bits of Bill-Burt splatted in eponymous globules everywhere, morphing bulbs of Radulak blood spinning and dancing in the zero-g.
Close-up on the gore-splattered teddy bear floating near the pillow …
* * *
Still staring at the teddy bear on the screen, Hadrian sighed. “Now we’re in for it.” He threw on his special velour gold shirt. “Tammy! Ship status? How badly were we hit?”
“Modest, Captain, and the timing was off besides.”
“Meaning?”
“The cloaked ship should have fired before the gravity crashed. Instead, it’s obvious that we were sabotaged and betrayed by a crew member and, oh, three guesses who’s not in her quarters and isn’t that a nice Bowie knife on your dresser? I warned you! Didn’t I warn you?”
“And the I Saw No Need to Mention My Mother’s Moustache?”
“Powering up weapons, screens on, and Snuffle-Drench-Master Bang is hailing Admiral Prim even as we speak. Mutual exchanges of horrified outrage. Captain, they’ll hand you over. You know that, don’t you? You’ll go on trial on the Radulak homeworld.”
“Oh dear, whatever will we do?” Hadrian deftly sailed across to the door, manually overrode the lockdown, and pulled himself into the corridor beyond. He tapped his comms. “Buck, wake up! Meet me in the Insisteon Chamber at once! Sin-Dour, invoke Contingency Plan Delta Epsilon 23B. Printlip! Get to the supreme admiral’s quarters and begin collecting as much useless and bound-to-be-disregarded evidence as you can! Galk, activate the homing beacons we secretly installed on every spacesuit in storage and track down our rogue Affiliation security officer, and then lock her up.”
As he delivered his commands, Hadrian sailed down the corridors, reaching the Insisteon Chamber. Another override and he entered the room, moving across to the station comms. “Captain Hadrian to Admiral Prim!”
The small console screen flickered, revealing the admiral’s suitably stern visage. “Captain Sawback. Prepare to be boarded by my security team. As soon as they displace, you will surrender your command of the Willful Child and place yourself and your incompetent chief engineer into the custody of my officers. You will then be escorted to the Radulak flagship, now under the command of New Supreme Admiral Drench-Master Bang, which will depart the system to deliver you to a Radulak Court of Instant Justice on the Radulak homeworld Radish, whereupon you will be found guilty of innumerable crimes and sent to a prison planet to dwell in misery and infamy forever more.”
“And if I’m innocent, Admiral?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. All the evidence points to you,” and he lifted into a view a sheet of paper. “I have the damning list right here, which I’ve already signed. It wasn’t enough that you killed thousands of Radulak and destroyed three Bombast warships. No, your hatred of the Radulak is known to everyone, and now the peacemaker Bill-Burt is nothing more than blobs of blood and twice-digested foodstuffs, and it’ll be all we can do to salvage the Kittymeow Accords under the threat of imminent galactic war!”
Buck had arrived by now, checking the batteries on his multiphasic.
“Very well, Admiral,” said Hadrian. “I will comply with your orders, of course. A request, however. I would like Commander Sin-Dour to take command of the Willful Child.”
“Not a chance! I’m sending a reliable officer to take charge over there, who will accompany my security team. No, all that close association with you and your criminal mind has no doubt tainted everyone presently on your ship. I suspect their careers will never recover, in fact. Oh, and as for your rogue AI Wynette Tammy, well, it will be dismantled and examined and reverse-engineered at the earliest opportunity.”
“Oh yeah, good luck with that, sir.”
“Excuse me?”
“Are you ready to send over your security team now, Admiral?”
The face scowled. “I am—”
Director Soma DeLuster pushed her way onto the screen, elbowing Prim in the temple. She smiled cruelly at Hadrian. “I don’t need to tell you—”
“You’re right, Director, you don’t, so shut up, will you? Hadrian out.”
* * *
Commander Sin-Dour stood with hands clasped behind her back as the new captain stepped onto the bridge. “Sir, welcome to the Willful Child.”
The short, bald middle-aged man paused and looked round at all the officers standing at attention. He tugged at his shirt. “I am Captain John ‘Lucky’ Placard,” he said in stentorian tones. “Do any of you know how I earned that epithet? I will tell you. I was a mere comms officer aboard the AFS Century Warbler under the command of Captain Hans Olo. In the moment of insurrection by the Klang Prince Hazel Gnawfang I managed to initiate an emergency displace, thus evading the pheromonal biochemical override that afflicted everyone else on board the vessel. This singular act of genius has earned me accolades and promotion and now here I am, commanding my first Engage-class starship.”
“So like,” said Helm Sticks, “you um, bailed out on everyone else and now you’re a captain? Fuck me, sir, whose ass did you, like, lick? Oh, and are you like the last bald guy in the galaxy? There’s creams for that, you know. Duh!”
Spark trotted up to halt before Placard. “I am Ensign Spark, Robot Guard Dog. Can I play catch with y
our head, sir? Catch? Catch! Please oh please oh please?”
Beta said, “It’s well known that bald men secretly concoct physiological studies asserting higher levels of virility among bald men.”
James “Jimmy” Eden suddenly said, “I’m your comms officer and I came in fourth in the Olympics and I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry aagh!” He fell to his knees, bawling.
Tammy’s voice now rang out from all the speakers. “And I’m the mad AI in charge of every system on this ship, and you’ll never catch me, hahahahahaha!”
Placard turned and ran from the bridge.
“Huh,” said Sticks, “that was weird.”
SiX
Aboard the Terran flagship, AFS Portentous Smug Pomposity …
Adjutant Lorrin Tighe plopped herself down on the sofa in the director’s private quarters. “I barely got away in time, Director. That brown-toothed Varekan nearly got me at the Emergency Airlock.”
“Well done, that’s my girl,” Soma DeLuster said, walking over with a bowl of popcorn. She sat down beside the adjutant. “Screen on,” she commanded and the huge monitor in the wall in front of them flicked on. “Radulak People’s Court, Radish Fox Channel 45. Now then, darling,” she said to Lorrin, “let’s watch justice at work, shall we?”
“I can’t wait!” gushed the adjutant. “Can I smoke, drink, pop pills?”
“You can mainline rocket fuel if you like. Darwin knows, you’ve been through the wringer. Ah, here we go!”
Radulak People’s Court, Radulak Homeworld Radish …
Hadrian and Buck stood on a bloodstained disc on the floor of a vast circular chamber lined with crowded tiers rising up on all sides. A spotlight pinned the two accused humans with blinding glare and blistering heat.
Buck held up both hands and made a rabbit silhouette on a nearby wall.
The Radulak rose from their seats in a blasting hail of cheers and warm spit when the High Judge of the Inevitably Guilty stepped into view to position herself on a high chair dominating a railed balcony.
From a side chamber on the ground floor emerged Supreme Admiral Drench-Master Bang, taking position on a smaller, much cleaner dais not far from Hadrian and Buck. Another, less harsh spotlight fixed upon her.
The judge struck a gavel that echoed in sudden silence. “I call upon the Only Witness We’re Listening To: Supreme Admiral Drench-Master Bang! Bang, speak!”
Bang smiled at Hadrian, and then faced the crowds, hands raised. She suddenly frowned, as if beset by doubt. “‘I do not know what to say! Should I tell them the things that went on that day?’”
The crowd roared wet invitation.
“Poor Bill-Burt, beloved Supreme One! ‘She meant no harm! She most truly did not!’ And now she is this!” And she gestured to a side passage where a half-dozen proto-Klang dragged into view a lumpy bloodstained burlap sack. “As Bill-Burt herself might say, ‘Murder Most Foul!’ And who is to blame? Why, none other than Captain Hadrian Alan Sawback!”
Buck nudged Hadrian and whispered, “Why am I here again, sir?”
“You didn’t expect me to go through all this alone, did you, Buck?”
“Oh. Right. Uh, thank you, sir.”
“You’re most welcome.”
Buck resumed making shadow animals.
“Buck?”
“Hmm?”
“What drugs are you on right now?”
“Oh, all of them, sir.”
The judge struck the gavel again. “Oh my, such overwhelming evidence against the accused! I am gobsmacked—” and a few hundred gobs of gob smacked her. “Just so! And flabbergasted—” salvos of flabber gasted against her face. “As I said! I am flummoxed—stop! No flummoxes! I am about to pronounce my verdict! It’s a good verdict, a pretty verdict. It’s the foregone conclusion we all know about that will shock and outrage precisely none of you, especially given how well paid you all are to attend this sham of a court! What?” She tapped the small speaker jammed in one ear. “No! I said nothing of the sort! No! No playback! Where was I? Yes, my righteous verdict, the inescapable conclusion we reached long before we even saw any evidence! What? No, I didn’t! Outrageous accusation! Now, my verdict is this. GUILTY!”
The crowd roared, spit spraying in a deluge to shower down upon the two accused.
“And now, after the commercial, I will pass the sentence we already know about—what? No I didn’t. What are you talking about—”
The scene vanished to be replaced by a white-fanged smiling Radulak with slicked-back hair rising out of a slime pool holding up the latest i-held communicator. This was followed by a Radish Fox announcer saying, “This is Radish Fox coming to you all with All the News So Full of Bullshit No One Else Would Even Call It News Ha Ha You’re All Such Idiots, and it’s time for the Radulak High Court to pass the sentence on the appallingly guilty and probably gay atheist retro-Muslim terrorist, Hadrian Alan Sawback! But first, another word from our sponsors!” A white-fanged smiling Radulak with slicked-back hair rose out of a slime pool holding up the latest i-held communicator.
“Mute,” commanded Soma DeLuster. “Hmm, barring Fox, I think the rest of our hopelessly biased power-serving media might find a few issues with this trial.”
“Y’think?” Lorrin asked, tossing back the rest of her whisky, then lighting another cigarette.
“Well, we’ll see if we can ride it out. Failing that…”
“Oh sure,” snapped Lorrin, “I see a new scapegoat being offered up. Who might that be? Oh, right, the adjutant with Radulak bloodstains all over her purloined magnetic boots—where are they, by the way?”
“Oh we’ve taken care of them, Adjutant.”
“I just bet you have.”
“Now, dear, you of all people will understand the necessity of covering our official asses.”
“Bullshit! You all just lie through your smiling faces and does the hammer ever come down? No! But helpless minions only following orders, well, poor darlings!”
“We won’t hand you over to the Radulak.”
“You won’t need to, will you? What if I whistle-blow the whole scheme, Director? What then?”
“Naive girl. Nobody gives a shit what whistles you blow. Haven’t you noticed? Nobody gives a shit about anything anymore. The people who voted us into power are all suffering from self-serving cognitive dissonance—they only hear and see what bolsters their own intractable prejudices—oh, wait, shall we call them ‘opinions’? Hahaha. As if you can have an opinion when you don’t know fuck all about anything! Never mind. So anyway, blow away, darling. Tweet tweet! Spill the beans. No one’s watching, no one’s listening, no one’s giving a flying fuck. They’re too busy wanking off in front of selfie posters. Meanwhile, the Great Machine of Human Progress just grinds on, and on. And you, dearie, well fuck you, so just suck it up and swallow it down, as we used to say in boarding school. End-mute—here comes the sentence!”
The judge was on her feet. “Life imprisonment on Prison Mining Planet Rude Pimente, served consecutively not including time already served without hope of parole hard labor for ever and ever in a life sentence which won’t last long anyway since we’re sending assassins. What? I never said that! What nonsense are you talking about?”
Soma DeLuster sighed and clicked off the monitor. “Hmm, think we might have to hand you over to the Radulak after all. Oh don’t look so glum. Irridiculum mining’s probably not that bad.” She tapped her comms. “Security, get in here. Adjutant Lorrin Tighe is under arrest for fabricating evidence and other stuff we’ll come up with shortly.”
Tighe snarled and reached for her Bowie knife. “Aw shit—I went and tried to stab Hadrian and he disarmed me! Damn! Wrong target!”
“Silly dupe,” said Soma. “Think we’ll start with a brain wipe just to be safe. Who knows, could be one more whistle-blower will take the whole thing down, mobs rising up in the streets on every city on every planet, storming the barricades of us superrich inbred nitwits and righteously tearing us limb from limb in a
convulsion of perfectly justified retribution. No, mustn’t risk that! Accordingly, your brain will be wiped, your personality erased, your—”
Lorrin Tighe suddenly vanished.
Soma DeLuster frowned. “Oh crap, I think my Security Screen’s just been hacked by a rogue AI from the future. Admiral Prim!”
Bridge of the Escort Engage–class starship the AFS What’s Up with That Cat? only now emerging from the Conveniently Cloudy Nearby Nebula …
Captain Honorarium Harried stepped onto the bridge and posed in front of the main viewer. The overweight mangy tomcat slumped over her left shoulder amid a mostly shredded uniform, its weight creating a permanent lopsided shoulder dip on that side, blinked lazily at the image of Admiral Prim. There was no one else on the bridge. In fact, there was no one else on the entire ship, since the captain was so competent she required no one else, having single-handedly conquered a dozen ferocious enemy empires. She now regarded the face on the giant screen as would a boa constrictor eyeing a tweety bird. “Admiral Prim, can I help you?”
“You may have noted the Willful Child is making a run for it. Captain Placard is not answering hails, so we must assume a mutiny has occurred on that vessel.”
“This is always the risk with having a crew, sir.”
“Yes, well, whatever. I want you to pursue, intercept, and if necessary destroy the Willful Child.”
“I can do that. I can do anything and everything. There is nothing I can’t do. I hold the multiple titles of Queen, Empress, Mistress of All, Duchess, Miss Universe 2107, Pet Owner of the Year 2108, Slayer of Enemies We Haven’t Even Met Yet, Tactical Genius of the Year 2109, Centerfold of the Universe for three years running, Tall Woman of the Decade, Thin Woman of the Century, Miss Omnipotence 2110, So-Perfect-It-Hurts—”
“Yes yes yes! For crying out loud, no wonder no one wants to serve on your ship!”
“Well, it’s true they die like flies but that’s hardly my fault, is it? Besides, as is now readily evident, I need no one else, so blinding is my brilliance. In fact, you might as well consider the Willful Child already destroyed, flensed and dismembered bodies spinning frozen and bloated in space, wreckage flaring with burning fuel, clouds of vented atmosphere glittering like diamonds against a backdrop of mangled metal, and really, is there anything more beautiful than that? Excepting, of course, me. Did I mention my new Page Two spread as Miss Blood-Spraying Murderess of the Galaxy—”
The Search for Spark Page 11
