A Game of Battleships

by Toby Frost

  They filed into the corridor. Smith waited a moment, and as Shuttleswade came past he felt a rush of queasy fear, like he had always felt when talking to girls. ‘Can I have a word?’

  ‘’Course,’ Shuttles said. ‘Is everything alright?’

  ‘Fine, fine,’ Smith replied. ‘It’s only that – well, we’ve all got to do our bit. I was thinking – if you’ve got any spare Hellfires. . well, I’ve always wanted to fly one.’

  ‘It’s decent of you to offer,’ Shuttles said, ‘but we’ve got all the pilots we need.’ Susan and Craig of the Deepspace Operations Group passed them, subtly ushering Wainscott towards the door.

  ‘Listen, Smith: get your thousand hours in the hot seat and you can apply for combat training. I’ll put in a good word. How’s about that?’

  Smith watched him go. He remembered being seventeen and trying to ask Emily Parsons to dance with him at the Midwich Grammar School disco. He had the strong feeling that he had just been told he was ‘sweet’.

  Rhianna gave him a reassuring look. ‘Don’t worry, Isambard. Maybe you can have a go when the war’s over.’

  ‘When it’s over? But what’s the point in that?’ His voice sounded more bitter than he had intended it to be.

  Carveth appeared at his right shoulder as if to counterbalance Rhianna, like the demon in an old cartoon. ‘Let’s face it, boss, the only hot seat you’ve known is when you’ve pulled rank to make me warm up the loo for you.’

  ‘Isambard, you didn’t –’ Rhianna began.

  ‘I do not know what you are complaining about,’ Suruk said. ‘Space is infinite, and my spear is eight feet long. How am I supposed to slay my enemies in a place like that? Perhaps I should tie a string to the end of it,’ he added sadly.

  Smith watched the others file out. He turned to Rhianna.

  ‘We’re going to need your help,’ he said. ‘If you can sense these enemy ships before they see us–’

  ‘Cool,’ she replied. ‘I can use my powers to detect their emotions.’

  ‘Righto,’ Smith said, thinking that it would be more useful if she could detect their weaponry. At least she wouldn’t pick up friendly signals: emoting was something that the Royal Space Navy did not do.

  A side door opened and Governor Barton stepped into the room. He looked somewhat unhappy. His National Health glasses were at an odd angle. ‘Alright, everyone. Er, we’ve got a bit of a problem,’ he said.

  Smith shook his head. ‘Not to worry. I’m sure we can sort it out.’

  ‘Are you sure about that? It’s just that, erm.. perhaps you’d better come and see.’

  *

  Barton led the way to the station’s communications room. It was covered in coils of wire: additional scanning systems had been rooted in like new plants added to a garden. A row of monitors covered the rear of the room, the screens catching the light like polished tiles in a mosaic. Smith looked them over, seeing exterior shots of the orbiter, landscapes of rivets and antennae, huge funnels for listening into space.

  W entered, looking grim.

  A low bass noise blasted out of the speakers, a dismal honking like the call of some distant lighthouse. It pulsed around the room, through ears and stomachs, into the walls as if to crack them.

  Smith stared at the monitors. Cold dread began to creep through him. Moral fibre is the fear-killer, he reminded himself, and he wished that he had put the kettle on.

  ‘What is that?’ he said, not much wanting to hear the answer.

  ‘It sounds like whalesong,’ Rhianna said. ‘Cool.’

  ‘It’s been playing for three minutes now. It repeats on a twelve-second interval,’ Barton added.

  ‘Computer’s can’t lock it onto anything but it’s coming from around here.” He pointed to one of the lower screens. ‘There’s something near the edge of the system –’

  The monitors went black. They stared at the screens, as if struck blind.

  ‘Bloody computers,’ Barton said.

  The screens flickered and burst into life. They showed one image between them, in black and white. It was a colossal hall, apparently circular, the walls ribbed. Some sort of machine stood in the centre.

  ‘It looks Ghast,’ Smith said. ‘But there are no flags. .’

  ‘That’s not Ghast,’ W replied.

  The thing in the centre rotated to face them. It was a mixture of gun turret, cockpit and throne, and it was occupied. They stared at the upper half of an immense creature, partly ossified, slumped down before a row of controls.

  ‘Looks like it grew out of the chair,’ Carveth whispered.

  ‘That’s just the way I’m sitting,’ the speakers roared.

  Carveth staggered back as if from a gust of wind. ‘Bloody hell!’

  The thing in the chair looked around. Its head alone was the size of a car. It raised a proboscis longer than an elephant’s trunk and let out a low, sonorous boom. In that moment, despite its size and the hardening of its body, Smith realised the similarity in shape as well as sound.

  ‘I am the eldest of the Khlangari,’ the creature said. ‘And it is well past the time of their return.’

  Smith looked at W, and W looked at Barton. ‘I’m the governor,’ Barton said, as if it was just dawning on him. ‘I run the station here. Captain Smith and this gentleman are dealing with matters relating to, er, guests we have at the moment. You can come in if you want. We’ve got a buffet.’

  ‘Typical,’ said the being in the chair. ‘You try to seed the galaxy with intelligent life and this happens. Right then. I’ll keep it simple. I am the mind and pilot of a polyp-based self-aware starship, which you would call one of the Voidani space whales. Which of you knows the location of the mystics of Khlangar?’

  Smith stepped forward. ‘Good morning. I represent the British Space Fleet. The Khlangari deputation is under our protection–’

  His voice was drowned out in a numbing throb of bass. The creature sat up in its chair. ‘In the past hour, I have picked up a transmission issued from your space station. It gives co-ordinates and precise location data. Normally this would not concern me. However, it also mentions the presence of five of our species.’

  ‘That’s quite right. They’re here as part of a diplomatic mission to form a united front against alien tyranny. I must say that for little fellows they’re making a jolly good job of it.’

  ‘I have also detected vessels at the edge of the system which, I understand, represent powers hostile to you. In short, this area is now a warzone,’ said the thing in the chair. ‘You have six standard hours. At the end of that time you will provide proof that the Khlangari deputation is safe and well.

  Failure to do so will result in me taking measures to ensure their return.’

  ‘I have told you that they are safe,’ Smith replied. ‘As an Englishman, my word is proof enough. I hope you are not trying to threaten me, sir.’

  ‘Threaten you? Of course not. I am threatening your space station, everyone in it and, depending on how I feel, everyone they have ever met. Because otherwise, we will research your colony. You may care to remember what happens when the Voidani research other life forms.’

  ‘You eat them.’

  ‘Precisely. Harm the deputation and suffer the wrath of the space whales.’

  Rhianna took a step towards the monitor. ‘Actually, I’m the human-Vorl liaison here. I’m like a counsellor, except psychic.’

  ‘Great,’ said the creature. ‘Then I’m sure you can sense how delighted I am to see you. This conversation is over,’ it added, and as the throne turned away, the image disappeared.

  ‘Well!’ said Rhianna.

  ‘Balls,’ said W.

  ‘He’d better not blow up the station,’ Barton said. ‘It took me ages to sort this place out.’

  ‘Boss,’ Carveth said, ‘am I reading this wrong, or was that the Khlangari’s dad?’

  Smith nodded, but he did not turn from the screen. ‘I rather feel it may have been.’

  ‘Oh Gaia
!’ Rhianna breathed, ‘so the Khlangari are protected by the space whales. That alters my entire perception of the galaxy.’

  ‘Damn right,’ Carveth said. ‘It makes it about fifty times more terrifying.’

  ‘They must be, like, the larval stage or something. It’s such a privilege to make contact with such a spiritual being, although I’m not really digging all the death threats.’

  ‘I don’t see that it changes much,’ Barton said. Of all of them, he seemed the least concerned.

  ‘We’ve just got to stop the enemy fleet within six hours. Same thing as before, except that now we’ll all die if we don’t. Oh, actually that is quite bad. Suppose I’d better get back to the negotiations, then.’

  W watched him go. ‘Barton’s right,’ said the spy. ‘The stakes are rising, gentlemen. Not only do we need to save the station, but we need to do so before the space whales demand their friends back. Of course, if we can be seen to defeat the enemy, it may make an alliance with the Voidani all the more probable. .’

  ‘Then to battle!’ Suruk exclaimed. ‘For what do we wait?’

  ‘Well said, Suruk,’ Smith said. ‘What option is there but to attack? We must take this war to the enemy, with the sword of justice in hand. For if the torch of liberty falls, then we will find–’

  ‘That we’ve dropped a Khlangar,’ Carveth said.

  ‘Just get to the ship.’

  All Hell Breaks Loose

  Felicity Fitzroy buckled herself into the captain's chair. The first sign of competence in starship captaincy, after all, was using a seatbelt. Computer screens blinked into activity, needles twitched under glass and engines grumbled into life as HMS Chimera came awake around her.

  Dave’s red light flickered on the dashboard. ‘Good day, Felicity. Did you have a pleasant evening? Did you.. do things with anyone?’

  ‘No time to chat, Dave,’ she replied. ‘Get us undocked and into the black. Full steam ahead to the system’s edge.’

  ‘Whatever you say.’

  ‘Mr Chumble, what’s our weapons status?’

  The android adjusted six dials, pulled a lever and shouted into a tube. ‘Weapons report that our railguns are shinier than a thrupenny bit, ma’am. All crew at battle stations and eager as an orphan in a pie shop, by Jove.’

  The floor rumbled. In the screen, Wellington Prime began to shrink. ‘Good fellow. Dave, have the pilots on standby.’

  The red light throbbed. ‘I thought having the pilots was your job, Felicity. I’ll let them know.’

  ‘Alright then.’ Captain Fitzroy flicked the intercom switch and waited as the funnel swung into position. ‘Attention crew!’ she barked. ‘We are commencing an aggressive patrol against vessels unknown, believed to be four Edenite martyr-class warships. You are to remain at highest vigilance. Our enemy may be using experimental stealth technology. So if anything comes on screen get the bang boxes tracking it pronto, understand? We’re going in against people who don’t know what fair play is. So guard your shins, team. Over.’

  The Chimera tore through space, the roar of its engines echoing through the hull. Captain Fitzroy leaned back in her seat, crossed her legs and admired her stern, handsome face in the shiny toe of her boot. ‘Mr Chumble, get two antimatter fish in the tubes.’

  ‘Gladly, ma’am.’

  ‘Super.’ Captain Fitzroy leaned into the comms tube and turned the dial. ‘Major Wainscott? You there?’

  ‘Suited and magnetic booted,’ the tube growled back. ‘We’re geared up for boarding. You chaps open the tins and we’ll eat up whatever’s inside.’

  ‘That’s the spirit.’ She pushed the funnel away. ‘Dockside cavalry’s all set, Chumble. Swing us out sunward. We’ll hit these blighters from the wing.’

  *

  Smith took his seat in the captain’s chair as Carveth turned the ignition key. The John Pym coughed, coughed again and suddenly roared into fearsome life. Needles whirled and battered the far edges of dials.

  For a moment Smith thought the ship was going to rip through its moorings, and then the engine sank down, as though the Pym had woken in a panic like an old man before realising where it was.

  ‘Sorry,’ Carveth said, ‘my foot got stuck on the pedal.’

  The front thrusters fired and the airlock couplers pulled back. Smith felt apprehension form in his chest like a solid ball, conker-sized and rapidly swelling. He decided to drown out his fear with his own voice. ‘Take us out of dock, Carveth! Rhianna, we’re going to need you to do your psychic stuff. See if you can sense the stealth ship.’

  ‘Righto, Captain!” she said, and saluted, which had a stiffening effect on Smith’s morale. In a whirl of dreadlocks Rhianna turned and disappeared into the ship.

  Now that , Smith thought, is a woman.

  The space station began to shrink in the screen, receding from view, leaving them out in the dark.

  ‘Good luck, Godspeed,’ W declared over the intercom, ‘and don’t cock up.’

  Smith saluted the speaker. ‘Righto!’ he said.

  ‘And for Heaven’s sake don’t let the Ghasts get hold of that mirror. Keep it on the ship, and if you have to, destroy it.’

  Carveth looked round. ‘He means destroy the mirror,’ she said. ‘Not the ship.’

  Smith frowned. ‘I knew that.’

  Carveth turned the John Pym towards the depths of space and they sped forward to do the Empire’s work.

  *

  Barton carefully wrote out a note and one of his drones flew across the hall and dropped it onto the M’Lak delegation. One of the pilots held it against the side of the gilled helmsman’s container. Two minutes later, Sedderik turned upside-down and floated to the top of his tank.

  ‘The helmsman is sick,’ Sedderik's lead attendant declared. ‘He must retire to his quarters.’

  ‘I’ve taken a hundred and eighty-degree turn for the worse,’ Sedderik moaned. ‘Carry on without me.’

  Barton nodded to the two riflemen guarding the door and they opened it to allow the helmsman to be pushed out. He gave a valiant little wave, and the doors closed.

  The Chinese ambassador stood up. ‘So the Morlock representative is no longer present. Can this meeting continue without him?’ A Yothian whirled its communication-stalks in support. C’Neth rubbed his translucent chin.

  The lead M’lak delegate rose to his feet. ‘Gentlemen, we have made preparations for this contingency. There is one amongst us trained to deal with complex inter-species diplomacy. May I introduce Gorgar Smashbrain, grand bludgeoner of Narg?’

  *

  A diode flashed red against the shiny brass of the console. Chumble turned, the light giving his round face a ruddy, cherubic glow. ‘Scanners have a confirmed signal, Captain. I have five ships, strung out on a convergent approach. Their target is our very own space station.’

  ‘Keep out on the wing, Mr Chumble,’ Captain Fitzroy replied. ‘Engines down.’ She checked the visuals: in cold space, sunlight winked on distant hulls, as though five comets converged on the same point of impact. The lights sank on the bridge of the Chimera; throughout the battleship, men would be silent at their posts, only the click of levers and the soft hiss of pistons giving them away. ‘We’ll creep up nice and close, hit them from the side, then roll down the length.’

  ‘A crafty tactic, ma’am, if I may be so bold. But then I never did practice lacrosse.’

  ‘You missed out. All engines on silent, Mr Chumble. Dave, set up a trajectory for each torp. Get ready for evasive as soon as we let rip.’

  ‘A pleasure,’ the computer replied. ‘Ah, yes. . the enemy are in close formation, only a hundred miles between each. Tactically primitive. Are you familiar with Caesar’s Gallic escapades, Felicity?’

  ‘I never could cook,’ the captain replied. ‘Tell Squadron Leader Shuttleswade to get his wing ready to scramble. As soon as we make ourselves known.. ’

  The cat jumped onto Captain Fitzroy’s lap. She gritted her teeth. The players were on the field, the white
socks of war pulled up high. To the victor the spoils, she thought. ‘What’s our range, Mr Chumble?’

  ‘One moment, ma’am, if I might consult my timepiece here – yes, I do believe we’re in range!’

  ‘Open goal.’ Captain Fitzroy smiled. ‘Looks like the Great Annihilator needs to pay more attention to worldly matters. Dave, how’s the angle of dangle?’

  ‘Smooth as a Bach concerto.’

  ‘Zap him!’

  Two lights shot out of the Chimera and swung right in the viewscreen. They arced upwards, almost lazily, twisted and dived into the nearest Edenite ship as fast and lethal as hawks on a rabbit. It burst in a flower of light. The next moment the explosion was gone and the glowing ruins of the warship spiralled away. A couple of what looked like sparks flew from it – escape pods – but the vessel was dead.

  Dave began the course correction the moment the missiles fired. Flames erupted from the Chimera’s side like cannon on an ancient battleship, and it changed course in an ink cloud of anti-radar chaff, its logic engine pre-empting the counter-attack.

  ‘Stick in the shins, and the centre forward leaves the field!’ Captain Fitzroy cried. ‘Bravo, men – bloody well done! Now prep us two more fish.’

  Dave made a satisfied hissing sound. ‘Ready when you are, Felicity.’

  Chumble turned. ‘I have a new reading, ma’am.’

  She whipped around in her chair. ‘Where?’

  ‘Close, captain. I have no visual confirmation.’ Chumble shook his head. ‘It makes no sense – we cannot lock, and yet – Captain, it is my firm belief that we have no course but to loose those torpedoes with the very utmost of urgency!’

  ‘Dave, new target. Co-ordinates, Mr Chumble?’

  ‘None, alas!’ Chumble exclaimed.

  At the bottom of the screen, horribly close, space tore itself apart. The stars warped, as though about to melt. Lightning burst into the darkness and, in its centre, a spacecraft appeared, covered in symbols and thrashing lengths of chain.