by Carl Derham
*
“Right-oh Robbie,” said Oli, “let’s go kick some Throgloid butt. Robbie? Robbie? Drone, where’s Robbie?” asked Oli, suddenly feeling very alone again.
The drone lifted its arms and shook its head. It moved to the centre console and interfaced with the communication centre. A message appeared on the screen in front of Oli. He read it out loud.
It would appear that they’ve cut the communication link. We are no longer connected to Robbie. “Holy oly!” Oli was suddenly beginning to feel a little less than invincible.
Another message appeared on the screen.
We will have to fly the ship manually. We have five minutes before they level a city on Earth.
“Oh crap! We could really do with the rest of the crew right now.”
The drone increased the power to the Graviton drive and the great ship lifted off the ground. Oli watched the screen as the interior walls of the crater passed by, followed by a view of the moon’s surface and the Earth in the distance. The drone was operating the sensors and a small crossed circle appeared on the screen, defining the position of the Throgloid ship. Head for the cross. The message appeared on Oli’s screen. Two joystick controls slid out of the arms of the seat. Oli grabbed them and tentatively pushed the left one forward, not wanting to send Cranus careering through the middle of the Earth. The surface of the moon flashed by and, as he became more familiar with the speed control, he gently edged the throttle forward. Soon they were homeward bound.
The Throgloid ship had positioned itself in orbit facing India. They had located the most densely populated city on Earth and it was Mumbai.
“Prepare to fire,” he bellowed.
The Weapons Officer counted down from ten and the blue plasma began to arc across the weapons array on the front of the ship. Five...Four...The Throgloid Captain rubbed his hands with glee as he thought about the millions of pathetic creatures about to be blasted off the face of their worthless little planet. Three...Two...The plasma was filling the screen, with the central targeting spur beginning to light up. One! Then the blue arc fizzled into nothing and the screen was once again occupied by the ugly planet.
“What do you mean, it’s not working?” bellowed the Captain.
“I mean, I’ve fired the weapon and nothing has happened,” the Weapons Commander said. He was having a very bad day. Firstly, he had lost a month's pay, a secretly-smuggled case of Bog wine and two of his women when he missed the small object, and now the plasma weapon was refusing to fire. He saw the Captain stomping across the bridge towards him, Grax in hand and he picked up his own Grax, which was resting against the console. He put up a good show really, for the three seconds that the fight lasted. He thought at one point that he might actually be in with a chance. But the Captain was too strong and the Weapons Officer lost his head over it.
The Captain sat at the weapons console and initiated the firing sequence for the Plasma burst. “Targeting…Range…Full power…Fire!”
Nothing. “Targeting…Range…Full power…Fire!”
Nothing. He looked down at the headless corpse and gritted his teeth.
“I see what you mean,” he grunted, merely hinting at an apology.
The remaining handful of micro-drones returned to the little ship, announcing that the mission had been a success and that the plasma weapon was disabled. Robbie had wanted to send the drones into the ship’s engine room and set the Graviton drive to overload. But there was a serious danger that if they did that so close to the Earth, even with the limited power that it possessed, it might push the planet into a wider orbit of the sun, plunging the Earth into an impromptu Ice Age.
