Hold My Beer
Page 3
The iGotThis class vessels had three rooms that connected to the bridge: the Captain’s Ready Room, a briefing room and the all-species head. The head was currently occupied by Gel O’Tin, but that’s probably TMI, so let’s turn our attention to the briefing room, where Captain Tiberius, Doctor Pasteur, Lieutenant LaFuentes, Lieutenant Loreli, Ensign Doall, and Councilman Edor sat around a barbell-shaped table to discuss what they should do with a problem like Petru.
“I’m telling you, Boss, I can take him. Five minutes in the ring. I’ll bring on the pain and fear.” He cracked his knuckles, which indeed bore the tattoos PAIN and FEAR.
“We can’t afford to humiliate the crown prince,” Jeb said. He cast a look at Edor, who nodded agreement.
“This is a duel to the death,” Edor said.
“And no one is dying or getting killed on my ship over a romcom, got it?”
“Yes, boss,” La Fuentes said.
“And don’t call me ‘boss.’”
“Sorry, sir.”
The doctor, however, asked, “But what if LaFuentes did die?”
LaFuentes laughed at the idea, the captain said, “Maybe you’d better give yourself a hearing exam doctor.”
Pasteur held up a hypo spray. “Just hear me out. Before the fight, I give him 40cc’s imposazine in a delayed-reaction dose. Once it takes effect, it produces near-death comatose symptoms.”
Edor paled. “Isn’t that what you gave the prince for his acne?”
“No, that was .1cc. It’s all about the size of the dose. However, Enigo, you’re going to wake up with the best skin of your life. Provided, of course, you can bring on the pain and fear for about 10 minutes, and then throw the fight. Not that you’d actually have much choice as you’d be slipping into a coma. But can you make it look good? Then we just cart you off to sickbay and pretend to put you in stasis. You can nap until we’re out of the system.”
“And Loreli?” Jeb asked. Doall, meanwhile, had started to toy with her hair. Readers will learn that this is a key indicator that she was working on an idea and had more than 30 seconds to implement it…or rather, readers would have learned that naturally if we hadn’t just told you. She leaned over to whisper to Loreli while the doctor hemmed and hawed and finally suggested something about being too grief stricken to marry.
The councilman shook his head. “Prince Petru would not allow it. After winning a duel for True Love, he would feel doubly sure of the righteousness of his actions. Besides, no self-respecting Clichan would fight such a fight then throw away the prize. He’d lose face in the council and among his subjects.”
Having gotten a nod from Loreli, Ellie interjected, “Captain, I think the doctor is still onto something. Forget the imposazine. LaFuentes, you throw the fight.”
“But it’s to the death!”
“I don’t see how this helps, Doall,” Jeb said, “but I trust your brain…and your impressive collection of romance novels. What are you thinking?”
Doall blushed to learn that her secret pleasure wasn’t so secret. She’d thought she’d convinced everyone that the pad she carried everywhere contained only science journals and technical manuals. Nonetheless, she spoke with a voice that was confident and professional, because to do anything less would send feminazis screaming for the author’s head (as if having a “ship’s sexy” isn’t going to do that, anyway.)
She said, “LaFuentes accepts the challenge. He gets to pick weapons, right?”
LaFuentes cracked his knuckles. “Phasers!”
“Oh, come on. You have to be flashier than that.”
“Mech suits?”
Jeb said, “I’d pay to see that!”
Ellie groaned in frustration. “No! Knives, swords! Bladed weapons. Nice and flashy, with little tassels that do nothing but look cool and get in the way. Something that causes quick damage but not ugly bruises and can let you see the fear and desperation in your enemy’s eyes before you strike a killing blow. This is about style. ‘Phasers!’” She paused to snort derisively. “Anyway, we load the arena with bladed weapons. We bring in an audience – the crew, some of Petru’s friends, and the most influential members of your society. The more happily married or lovelorn, the better, right? And Princes Katrin and her entourage.
“Enigo, you come in, fire in your eye, ready to fight – to kill! – to keep Loreli safe. The captain orders you to stand down, and you refuse. He threatens you with court martial, but you will do anything to protect the woman you love.”
“Whoa, wait!” Enigo turned to the captain. “I swear, sir, we’re just friends, really.”
“Forget reality!” Doall cried passionately. “Petru doesn’t care about reality. He’s got this whole fantasy playing in his head, and if we want to win, we need to take his game and make it ours. So, if the captain accepts this plan, you have been secretly in love with Loreli and are now taking the chance to not only come clean but to make her yours.”
Enigo sighed. “Fine. But the Bloods and Crips gave up knife fights after the zombie virus hit. No one wants to get that up close and personal killing someone when he might already be dead. I’m out of practice.”
Doall tsked. “Oh, is that too challenging? Suck it up. Besides, it’ll make it easier to throw the fight.”
“About that,” the captain cut in. “I’m not sure I see the up side to this.”
“I’m getting there, sir. This is good. Imagine the arena. The crew watches as their beloved security officer risks everything, from his profession to his life, for love. The Clichans, too, see his passion and sacrifice and can’t help but be drawn in. Loreli watches from a corner of the field where she can be seen by both parties. Oh, and wear that pink tulle number you got when we went shopping on Visa. It makes you look delicate.
“The captain can’t sway you, Enigo, and finally gives up. You face off against the upstart young prince. He gets a few jabs in but so do you. You don’t gloat – this is too serious. This is love. You are fighting for the happiness of Loreli as well as your life. Loreli, you watch from the sidelines, wincing at each cut Enigo takes for you.”
“Wait, I gotta get cut?”
“As Enigo spills his blood for you, the realization dawns. You love him! You always have but never knew until just that moment. And now, your happily ever after is at risk.”
“I gotta get cut?”
Doall stood, knocking her chair over and making Edor squeak in surprise. “Suddenly, Petru disarms you! Loreli squeals your name! You try valiantly to defend yourself. You dive for the fallen blade, but it’s just out of reach. You spin to find Petru hovering over you, sword raised. You glare at him with defiance even in your defeat. ‘Do it!’ you tell him. ‘I would rather die than live without her.’”
“Whoa, chica! I don’ got no death wish.”
Doall ignored him but stood with her arms over her head as if clasping an invisible broadsword. “Petru pauses to say something charming and gracious about how he will care for her in your name, but what’s this! Loreli has run onto the arena, her tulle skirts flying – we should set the environmental controls to cue a breeze. She throws herself over Enigo’s body and raises her hand to Petru.”
At this point, Doall kneeled in front of Edor one arm up as she pleaded, “Please, my prince. I beg you, mercy. Spare his life, and I will go with you.”
Edor turned away, sniffling.
The captain cocked a brow in his direction. “Well, then. I still don’t see how this helps get Loreli out of the marriage.”
Spell broken, Doall cleared her throat and retrieved her chair. “Scenario One: Overcome by pity, Petru spares Enigo and presents Loreli to him for the sake of True Love. Katrin steps forward to take Petru. The audience is charmed, and mission accomplished.
“Scenario Two: Katrin intervenes on Loreli’s behalf and talks Petru into letting the two lovers go.
“Scenario Three: Petru spares Enigo, but keeps Loreli. Loreli goes with him and does the heartsick routine until Petru releases her.
&nb
sp; “Scenario Four: Petru spares Enigo, keeps Loreli and is deaf to her heartbreak. Edor, however, lets it slip to influential parties in both governments about how the bride despairs. On their wedding day, she approaches the altar, trying to put on a brave face for peace for the Union and knowing that the only way her True Love lives is because of her impulsive promise. Then – crash! The temple doors fly open! It’s the human, LaFuentes! He rushes down the aisle and throws himself at Loreli’s feet.”
Again, Doall turned to Edor as she acted out the impassioned plea. “’Loreli, my love, my finest flower. I can’t let you do this. I have no life without you. There are only empty days of torturous despair, knowing I have damned you to this loveless marriage. I will not be the reason for your sadness!’ He turns to Petru. ‘My Prince. If you must take my reason for living, then I insist – kill me! Now! I would have a quick death at your blade over the slow wasting away of my broken heart.’”
“Yes!” Edor sobbed openly. “Yes, this is perfect. Ensign Doall, you are a genius. This has to work.”
“And if it doesn’t?” Jeb asked.
The doctor shrugged. “I can give her a couple of pills of imposazine for right before the wedding. He can be an early widower, and we’ll offer to take her body home. I can revive her when we’re out of Clichan territory.”
“So it’s settled, then.”
“It is not!” LaFuentes said. “I gotta get cut? How come I have to throw the fight? Why can’t I beat the snot out of Petru and we let Katrin do the impassioned plea?”
Before anyone could answer Enigo’s very valid question, the ship rocked and the red alerts started to sound.
***
Another blast rocked the Impulsive.
Captain Tiberius staggered and caught himself on a chair, muttering an apology to the crewman doing things that were important to the ship but not interesting enough to mention. Once again, Jeb vowed that he would make Deary upgrade those dagblasted inertial rattlers. They were designed to shake the ship when something impacted the shields, in order to bring a sense of urgency to a battle or emergency situation, but dang if they weren’t inconvenient. He’d been asking for ages to have some kind of control on them, so people could get to battle stations without toppling. If his engineer could reverse polarity by 90 degrees, he could sure as hell handle a simple task like that.
Jeb braced himself and looked at the screen to see three Kandor battle cruisers.
From his safe and secure seat, Commander Smythe said, “It would seem the jilted bride has come to make her displeasure known.”
At Security, Gel reported, “They fired once while we were hailing them, but shields were up, so no damage that time or this. Wikadas blade is not on line yet. I’ve got target locks on all ships.”
“Good job, O’Tin! You’re on the fast track for sure.” Enigo held up his knuckles. Gel bumped them with his gooey pseudopod and headed to the minion bull pen to await another chance at minor glory on the bridge. The second-string ops officer joined without comment.
Doall’s hands flew over her console. “Ready to hail Princess Katrin on the lead ship. Prince Petru is in the lazivator.”
How does she do that? Jeb wondered for the hundredth time. He knew she didn’t have a camera trained on the lazivator. He made Deary check on a regular basis. Too many people depended on that lift for a couple of minutes of “private time,” a rare thing on a ship the size of the Impulsive.
He shook off his curiosity as the front viewscreen came alive. In the foreground paced an angry princess, while in the back a nervous but resigned captain shrugged an apology to Jeb.
“Princess Katrin, I presume? I’m Captain Jebediah Tiberius. How wonderfully convenient that you showed up. We were about to contact you. There’s been a small mix-up we’re hoping you can help us with.” Jeb put on his most beguiling smile, the one normally used for people who hadn’t already fired on his ship without warning.
The Princess Katrin did not return the favor. Her stunning face was only more impressive for her anger. She scowled with all the ridges on her forehead, and her flat-plaited hair seemed to tingle with energy.
“Where’s the hussy?” she demanded.
“The…?”
“You heard me! The hussy who thinks she can sashay around the prince, using her alien wiles, and take what’s rightfully mine!”
Loreli cleared her throat and stepped into view. “I believe you are referring to me. However, you are mistaken concerning the origin of Prince Petru’s misguided infatuation. If we could just discuss this…”
“Shut up, you kingdom wrecker! Look at you! You’re green, and I can’t even imagine what’s going on with your hair. What could Petru possibly see in a mealy-mouthed little skank like you?”
Jeb barely had time to register how impressed he was by the universal translator when Petru burst onto the bridge. “Pay no attention to that shrew, my fair flower!” he shouted. He hurried to Loreli’s side, then pulled her close. He glared at the viewscreen. “Why are you here? I sent you a note.”
Katrin rolled her eyes. “Wedding called off for TLA? We have a duty to our planets, and you’re going to throw away peace in our time for that…that…”
“Her name is Loreli, soon to be Princess Loreli of Clicha.”
“I don’t want to be a princess. I don’t want to be your wife,” Loreli said again, her patience thinning. “Unhand me before I show the princess exactly what I can do with my hair. On you.”
“You’re adorable when you’re angry.” But he released her nonetheless.
Katrin said, “Oh? And you think I’m letting him keep mistresses? Skank! Captain, release this brazen minx to my custody so I can try her for treason and get on with my lawful courtship.”
“I forbid it!” the prince thundered.
Katrin just raised one hand imperiously.
The Impulsive rocked as phasers from all three ships struck its shields.
“That took us down 15 percent. Captain, let me fire back.” Enigo said.
“Yes!” Petru cried. “Fight back! Fight for our love.”
“Whoa. That is not what I meant!”
“Everybody, hold your horses!” Jeb ordered, trusting the universal translator to say something equivalent so he didn’t need to explain the idiom. “I know you’re frustrated…”
“Shut up!” both royalty yelled at him. Again, the Kandor ships fired.
“Shoot them!” Petru yelled at Enigo.
“I don’t take orders from you!” Enigo yelled back.
Another shot, and Doall reported shields at 75 percent.
“But come on, boss!” Enigo begged.
“Katrin, if you’d calm down for just five minutes and let me talk, we can resolve this. I’m not here to start a war.” Jeb said.
“Oh, there’s going to be a war if you don’t hand me over the wench.”
“Now that’s enough, young lady. Lieutenant Loreli is a respected member of my crew, and wenching is not in her duty description.” A comm signal beeped on his chair. He gave Doall a quizzical look and she mouthed “Kandor captain.” He grinned to himself. Had the Kandor captain called him or had Doall once again anticipated his needs? No matter. He sat down to see if he could have a calm, adult conversation with someone rational while the monarchs-to-be raged on.
“Besides, this isn’t in your jurisdiction,” Petru said, pointing to a side screen she could not see, but which showed the relative positions of all the ships on a star map. “You are in Clichan territory!”
“Yeah, right. The Kandors have claimed this land since the star famine of 2913.”
“Ha! The Clichans have claimed it since Galandifax.”
“What? Galandifax? Galandifax, who founded the first colony on Kandor? That claim transferred with him.”
“No it didn’t!”
“Yes, it did!”
“Uh, Captain?” Doall cut in quietly. Jeb held up one finger.
“You are as stubborn as your mother!” Petru yelled.
“Leave my family out of this!”
“How can I, when they arranged this marriage, which you are throwing away on a vegetable!”
“Take that back!” The prince yelled.
“Captain?” Enigo said with more urgency.
“Actually, I am a vegetable.” Loreli said.
Katrin sneered. “So glad we agree on something.”
Petru stamped his foot. “Well I don’t. Loreli is my true love and you have no jurisdiction. Captain, I order you to fire on those invaders!”
“No one is firing at anyone!” Jeb said.
“Can I fire at the Cybers when they’re in range?” Enigo begged.
“The what?” everyone but Doall, Smythe and some needed-but-unmentioned first-string crew shouted.
The first screen split to show long range sensor scans, A Cyber hive had emerged from its transtellar gateway and was heading toward the system.
***
Captain’s Log, retrospective.
“Out of the frying pan and into the fire,” as my grandma used to say. She was a horrible cook and hated replicators, but she had a lot of colorful metaphors. Usually while cooking.
Anyway, our original mission arranging the courtship of Prince Petru and Princess Katrin has rapidly turned into a war over disputed territory and the right of my ship’s sexy to marry royalty. Which, to be clear, she has no interest in, but the Prince is adamant about rights and about having her. To make things worse, as I was trying to work things out with the Kandor captain, a Cyber hive entered the system through a transtellar gateway, and they aren’t supposed to be anywhere near this quadrant.
“Red alert,” Smythe called.
The lights flashed red and a shrill siren sounded, followed by a harsh male voice. “Get moving! This is no drill. We are in deep kimchi, so get your butts to your stations. Move! Move! Move!”