Space Team

by Barry J. Hutchison

  “Used to be a great little system. Real nice,” said Mech, stomping through from the back of the ship. He glared at Cal, but made no move to attack him. “Until Zertex and the Symmorium had themselves a battle here.”

  “Oh, hey, that’s great,” said Cal, shuffling towards the edge of his chair, ready to spring up and run for it at a moment’s notice. “How you doing, Mech? You’ve turned your dial back, I see.”

  “Don’t even talk to me, man,” Mech warned.

  “There’s not much left now,” said Loren. “A few shattered planets ruled by violent warlords.”

  “So you’re saying it’s a shizzhole? Then why are we here?” asked Cal.

  “To deliver the ransom,” said Loren. “To make the deal?”

  “For the undead president virusy thing?” said Cal. He glanced around at the others. “We’re actually doing that?”

  Loren spun her chair until she was facing Cal. “Of course we’re doing it. Why else would we be out here?”

  “I just thought… We’re out here in space. We’re young. We’re single. We’re hairy, in some cases. We’ve presumably got a huge amount of ransom cash just burning a hole in our ship.” Cal shrugged. “I just thought we might want to keep boldly going, that’s all.”

  Loren’s blue skin flushed a darker shade. “Steal it, you mean?” she gasped. “I’m not a criminal.”

  “No, but we are,” said Cal.

  “If we don’t make the trade and get the information, millions could die. Billions,” said Loren.

  Cal placed his hands behind his head. “How is that my problem?” he asked. “You already killed billions of people back on Earth. Didn’t seem to bother you then.”

  “That wasn’t me!” said Loren. “Besides, it was an accident.”

  “Let’s kill her and defile her corpse!” Miz cried, leaping to her feet.

  “Whoa, whoa, where did that come from?” said Cal. “I think we all need to cool down. No-one’s defiling anyone’s corpse. Not on my watch.”

  “We’re not on your watch,” said Loren. “I’m in charge.”

  “Well, I’m the captain, so…”

  “No. You aren’t,” Loren said. “We’re pretending you are so Kornack will deal with us, but make no mistake – I’m leading this mission. I decide what we do, and we’re making the exchange as per the plan.”

  Cal held her gaze for a moment, then shot a sideways glance at Miz. “I’m seriously not the real captain?” he asked, then he broke into a lop-sided grin. “Fine. Your call, Loren. I’m just saying… I bet there’s a lot of money on board. Split five ways…”

  “There is no money on board,” said Loren, turning her chair back to the front. “The ransom isn’t being paid in credits.”

  “Oh,” said Cal, deflating slightly. “Well that’s stupid. So what is it being paid in, then?”

  Loren hesitated, just for a moment. “Information.” She tapped a sequence of buttons on the control panel to her left and one corner of the view screen changed from showing the streaking stars to showing a still image of… something else. Cal wasn’t quite sure what.

  “That’s Kornack,” Loren explained.

  “Jesus Christ, he looks like a melted brick,” said Cal. Sure enough, the warlord had the appearance of rough stone that had gone soft in the sun. His head was vaguely rectangular, with long flaps of granite-textured skin drooping over his broad shoulders.

  His misshapen body was squashed into what looked like an impeccably-tailored three-piece suit, albeit one that had been impeccably-tailored to fit in precisely the wrong way. It bulged where it should have tucked in, and drew tight in areas where tightness very much wasn’t required. He had the appearance of a volcanic boulder that someone had somehow managed to cram into a sock. An expensive sock, granted, but a sock all the same.

  “Ever heard of him?” Loren asked.

  “No,” said Miz.

  “I heard a thing or two,” said Mech. “None of it good.”

  Loren half-turned her chair. “Cal?”

  “Me? No. How would I have heard of him? He’s a space guy.”

  “Well, he’s heard of you.”

  Cal’s brow knotted. “He has? How?”

  “Kornack is fascinated by cannibals,” Loren explained. “It’s like, well, it’s like his hobby.”

  “His hobby’s cannibalism?” said Cal.

  “No, finding out about them is his hobby. I think he’d like to be one, don’t get me wrong, but Igneons aren’t exactly easy to eat. Even by other Igneons,” Loren said. “He has scouts scouring the galaxy, searching out stories of cannibalistic acts. I’m told they give him… a thrill.”

  “A thrill? What do you mean ‘they give him a thrill’?” asked Cal. “What kind of thrill?”

  “That’s all I know,” said Loren.

  “Like… are we talking a sexy-time kind of thrill here? Because if so that really should have been made clear in advance.”

  “Man’s got needs,” said Mech. “Who are we to judge how he gets his rocks off? ‘Rocks’ being the key word here.”

  “Oh, I might have known you’d say that,” said Cal. “You’d love me to get molested by some big stone… thing.”

  “I’m not gonna lie,” said Mech. “Yes, I would.”

  “I won’t let him enslave you for his sexual gratification, Cal,” Miz promised.

  Cal jabbed a thumb towards her. “See? That’s what I’m talking about. Support. Loyalty. Faithfulness. I think we can all learn a lesson here.” He stared wistfully into space for a moment. “God, I miss that dog.”

  The stars slowed to a relative crawl on the view screen. “Arrival in one minute,” said Loren, reading the data that flashed up on her console.

  “One minute? God. OK,” said Cal. “So, what’s the plan?”

  “Which bit?” Loren asked, easing back on a lever.

  “Any of it. All of it,” said Cal. “I have to admit, I wasn’t really paying too much attention earlier.”

  Mech tutted. “We should just throw him into space. We should throw him into space right now.”

  “We can’t. We need him,” Loren said. “For the moment, at least.”

  She flipped a few switches and the ship shuddered unpleasantly. “Wait, no, not that one,” she said, unflipping the last switch. The ship’s movement smoothed again.

  “We’re making a trade with Kornack, the warlord. He’ll give us the master copy of the footage he transmitted, along with the co-ordinates of where it was taken,” Loren explained. “We deliver those co-ordinates to Zertex, and they’ll go take care of it.”

  “And then we’re free to go?” asked Miz. “New identity, all that stuff?”

  “And a whole lot richer,” Mech added.

  Loren nodded. “That was the deal,” she said. “Now hold onto something. Coming out of warp in three, two…”

  The ship screeched. The stars snapped to a stop. Cal was flung forward in his seat before he could grab for his seat belt, then slammed back into it so hard all the air left his body in a single short puff.

  “One,” said Loren, a little belatedly.

  “Thanks for the warning,” Cal wheezed. He slammed the heel of his hand against his chest, trying to force the breath back into his lungs.

  A planet loomed on the screen ahead of them. Or part of one, anyway. It reminded Cal of a partly-eaten apple. There was a black, rotten-looking wound where most of the eastern hemisphere should have been, as if someone had taken a bite out of it, then tossed it away in disgust.

  “Well, this looks homely,” Cal said, finding himself whispering for no real reason. “Considering this is the first new planet I’ve ever been to, couldn’t you at least have found me a whole one?”

  “We’re being scanned,” said Mech, indicating a row of warning text flashing at the bottom of the screen in an alarming shade of red. Another three lines of similar text appeared. “We’re being lots of scanned.”

&nb
sp; “Pirates,” said Loren. “The Remnants is full of them.”

  “You mean space pirates?” said Cal, much to Mech’s annoyance. “But they’re our friends, right? All rogues together? Yo-ho-ho, bottle of rum, pieces of eight, all that stuff?”

  Loren shook her head and adjusted the controls. The broken planet grew steadily larger on screen. “Doesn’t work that way. They’re as likely to board us as they are anyone else.”

  “Seriously?” said Cal, sounding hurt. “What happened to honor among thieves?”

  “In my experience, there’s no such thing,” said Loren. She pushed forward on a lever and the half-planet grew larger until it completely filled the screen. “I’m going to take us in before anyone gets any ideas.”

  Cal gripped the arm rests of his chair. “And you’re sure I can’t convince you not to go through with it?”

  “Yes,” said Loren. “I’m sure. Suggest it again, and I’ll have you on report.”

  “Yeah, good luck with that,” said Cal.

  A band of flickering orange appeared at the bottom of the screen, just as the ship began to shudder. Cal looked from the orange glow to the rest of the crew. “Uh… you guys are seeing that, yeah? You guys see that the ship’s on fire?”

  “We’re entering the atmosphere,” said Mech. “Happens all the time.”

  The ship lurched violently, lifting Cal out of his seat for a full second. He and Miz both reached for their seat belts at the same time.

  “And that? Does that happen all the time?”

  “That happens less often,” Mech admitted. There was a low whine as his magnetic feet clamped to the floor.

  The flickering orange became a flaming red. The Shatner bounced and skipped like a stone across a pond, rattling Cal’s teeth in his skull.

  “Is it getting hot in here?” he asked. “Or is it just me?”

  Miz’s tongue unrolled. “Not just you,” she panted.

  “It’s just a bit of a bumpy atmosphere, that’s all,” said Loren.

  “You mean you don’t know what you’re doing,” Miz snapped. “Seriously, you’re, like, the worst pilot I’ve ever met.”

  Loren turned in her chair. “Fine,” she said, standing up. “You think you can do better? Please, be my guest.”

  “Jesus, Loren, what are you doing?” Cal gasped. He pointed wildly at the screen, which was now awash with hues of orange, red, purple and pink. Through it, he could just make out the scarred surface of the planet waiting for them below. “Sit down and fly the fonking ship.”

  Loren crossed her arms, wobbling unsteadily as the Shatner shuddered through more turbulence. “Not until she apologizes.”

  “Ha! In your dreams,” Miz barked.

  “Miz, apologize!” Cal cried.

  “Why should I?” the wolf-woman demanded.

  “Well, one, because we’re all about to die if you don’t, and two…” Cal shook his head. “No, just one, actually. Let’s focus on one.”

  Miz slumped back in her chair. Her snout curved into a sneer. “Fine,” she said, then the ship shook violently and Loren hurtled upwards at a worryingly high speed. She smacked against the ceiling, hung there for a few moments in a star-shape, then slammed into the floor and stopped moving.

  Cal and the others gazed down at her. “Uh… Loren?”

  Loren didn’t respond.

  “Haha. Good joke,” said Cal, squirming in his seat. He wiped a sheen of sweat from his brow with his sleeve. “Up you get now.”

  Loren didn’t respond.

  “OK… now,” said Cal. “Nnnnnnnnow.”

  Loren let out a groan that suggested she wasn’t getting up any time soon. Cal’s attention turned to the view screen, which now resembled a deeply unhappy rainbow. “OK,” he said. “We may have ourselves a problem.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Cal gaped at the unconscious Loren on the floor, then up at the flickering lights of the atmosphere which seemed intent on tearing the ship apart.

  “Miz, Mech, can either of you fly this thing?” he asked.

  “No,” Mizette admitted.

  “Yes,” said Mech.

  Cal punched the air. “Awesome! We’re not going to die!”

  “And no,” Mech added.

  “What? What do you mean ‘and no’?” Cal asked. “Go back to ‘yes’.”

  “I know how to fly it, but the controls ain’t big enough for my hands,” Mech explained. “You’ll have to do it.”

  “Me?” Cal spluttered. “I can’t fly a spaceship!”

  Mech’s jaw tightened. “Then I guess we’re gonna just smash right into the planet, then.”

  Cal unclipped his seat belt. “Oh… fonking Hell,” he muttered. “Miz, help Loren.”

  “What? No way! I’m not helping her.”

  “Please, just do it. For me,” Cal begged, dashing across to the pilot’s seat. “Put her in my chair. This is probably going to be rough.”

  Huffing and sighing, Miz took off her belt and hoisted Loren over her shoulder. “Thank you!” said Cal, sliding in behind a bewildering array of controls. “And has anyone seen Splurt?”

  “It’s hiding back there underneath your chair,” said Mech.

  “He,” Cal corrected. “Not it. He. Is he OK?”

  “How the fonk should I know if he’s OK?” Mech snapped. “Now take hold of that lever, grab that joystick, and put your right foot on the left pedal.”

  Cal leaned back so he could see under the console in front of him. “The left pedal? Why am I using my right foot? Shouldn’t I be using my--?”

  “Man, just shut up and do it!”

  Cal shut up and did it.

  “OK, what now?”

  “Now, you hold us steady until we’re through the atmosphere,” Mech said.

  Cal held them as steady as he could, which wasn’t really very steady at all. His stomach somersaulted over every bit of turbulence they hit. And they hit a lot. The joystick fought against his left hand, while the lever pushed back against his right.

  “Almost through,” said Mech. “Almost through.”

  “Great!” said Cal. “What then?”

  “Then, I’m gonna be honest here, a lot of things are gonna happen at pretty much the exact same time,” Mech said. With some difficulty, he tapped in a sequence of key presses on the control panel to Cal’s right. “She’s got the landing course locked in.”

  “Is that good?”

  “Best bit of news we’ve had in the last few minutes, anyway,” Mech muttered.

  “That’s not exactly saying much,” Cal pointed out. “Miz, you both strapped in back there?”

  “Oh, what, so I’ve got to fasten her seatbelt for her now, too?” Miz said, clearly annoyed by the very suggestion.

  “Kind of the entire point of putting her in the chair,” Cal said. He grimaced as the joystick rumbled violently in his hand.

  “Hold it steady!” said Mech.

  “I am! Miz, buckle Loren up. Now!”

  Mizette muttered under her breath as she stomped over to where Loren was sprawled and fastened the belt across her chest. “There,” she said. “Happy now?”

  “Ecstatic,” said Cal, just as the smear of color faded from the screen, revealing a scorched, desolate land mass below. Lines and lines of red text scrolled up the screen, accompanied by a series of high-pitched klaxons. “That can’t be good. Is that good? What’s all the noise?”

  “Alarms,” said Mech.

  “Well clearly they’re alarms!” Cal said, yelling to make himself heard over the din. “But why are they on?”

  “Fonked if I know. Hit that switch.”

  Cal hit a switch. The Shatner’s engines screamed as the ship plunged deeper into a dive. The alarms screamed louder than ever.

  “Wrong switch, wrong switch!” Mech barked. Cal stretched for the controls, but the G-Force made reaching it difficult. With a roar of effort, he strained against the onrushing gravity and g
ot a finger to the button.

  The ship dipped up and down, sending the horizon rolling from the top of the screen to the bottom and back again. Cal felt his brain sloshing around inside his skull as he tried to correct their course.

  “Not so hard! Gentle movements!” said Mech.

  “I am making gentle movements!”

  “Not gentle enough. More gentle!”

  Cal eased back very gently on the stick. The ship continued in a downwards dive.

  “Not that gentle, shizznod!” Mech pointed to the screen. “There! That’s where we’re landing.”

  Cal squinted. Down on the surface, between what looked like a number of lumps of ugly metal, was a white square roughly the size of a postage stamp.

  “On that? I can’t hit that!”

  “I don’t want you to ‘hit’ it,” said Mech. “I want you to land on it.”

  “I highly doubt that’s going to happen,” said Cal.

  “You got this,” Mech said. “You see that cross on screen? Line it up with the landing pad.”

  The ship lunged left. “Other way, turn it the other way!” Mech hissed, his hydraulics adjusting to prevent him toppling forwards.

  “Yeah, OK, sorry,” said Cal. He lined up the cross. “OK, got it. Now what?”

  “Ease back on the thrusters,” Mech said. “That’s the lever. But slow, nice and slow.”

  The tone of the Shatner’s engine changed as Cal followed the cyborg’s orders. The ship descended jerkily through a patch of wispy black cloud. The postage stamp was now the size of a drinks coaster, and Cal could see that the ugly lumps of metal were buildings, assuming you applied a very loose definition of the word. They looked like enormous iron ingots, partially melted into the barren landscape, with uneven tracks leading between them.

  Cal felt like he should be making some sort of witty remark about the place at this point, but for the life of him, he couldn’t think of one. Instead, he just clung to the controls, kept the target on the steadily growing landing pad, and wondered if it was too late to turn religious.

  “OK, get ready on the pedal,” Mech told him.

  “It’s the left with the right, right?”

  Mech frowned. “What?”

  “It’s the left pedal with my right foot?” Cal said.