Hal Spacejock 7: Big Bang

by Simon Haynes

  The admiral was holding a long, straight dagger with a serrated edge. The blade was finely honed, and when the admiral expertly twirled the bayonet in her hand Hal noticed the grip was worn smooth. This was no ceremonial dagger - it was an instrument of war, and a well-used one at that.

  The admiral met his eyes, and her lips drew back in a vicious sneer. Then, with a twist of her trotters, she removed the dagger's handle. Underneath was a second blade, shorter than the first, and with a quick flick the admiral under-handed the dagger towards the roof. It stuck fast, quivering, with the longer, serrated, blood-stained blade pointing down. The admiral eyed it for a moment or two, then uttered a command. The waiting guards moved forwards, taking Hal by the upper arms and lifting him off the ground until his toes were clear of the floor. Then they carried him forwards, until he was directly under the dagger. Hal tipped his head back, his eyes wide as he stared at the deadly blade hanging over his head. What was the admiral's plan? Were they going to wait around until it fell from the roof, stabbing him in the head?

  No, that wasn't the plan. At a command from the admiral the soldiers tightened their grip. Then, on what was obviously a count of one-two-three, they hoisted Hal into the air. The admiral barked an order, and they stopped at the last second. Hal could actually feel the tip of the dagger gently parting his hair, and he swallowed nervously.

  "D'kar fi gerr," said the Admiral, addressing Hal directly for the first time.

  "I don't know what you're saying," explained Hal, his voice as steady as possible under the circumstances.

  The Admiral gestured, and the soldiers lowered him until his toes brushed the ground. Then she began to count again.

  Whoosh! Hal was hoisted up, and this time the point of the dagger actually pricked his scalp. It was only the lightest of touches, but Hal didn't waste time expressing his admiration for the soldiers' skill. No, he was desperately hoping Clunk's rescue mission would save him in time.

  Chapter 35

  Amy looked up hopefully as her cell door opened, but it wasn't Hal … or Clunk. Instead she saw a guard offering her a plate. She'd been getting hungry, and the thought of dinner made her stomach rumble uncontrollably. The guard snorted at the noise, then set the plate on the floor and backed out, closing the door behind himself. After it slammed to, she heard the rattle of a key as he locked it firmly.

  Amy grabbed the plate, which contained a large slab of bread coated with a dark, greasy substance. It smelled rank, like meat gone off, and she was about to tip it in the slops bucket in the corner of the cell when she got an idea. Taking the bread, she crouched near the door and rubbed the greasy spread all over the floor until it covered about a square metre.

  Once done, Amy retreated to the back of the cell. She tore the remains of the bread to pieces, then hesitated, her heart in her mouth. Her plan was simple, but if it didn't work the guard would probably shoot her on the spot. Even if it did work, she'd have to sneak around a military base full of hardened soldiers, alone.

  The alternative was to sit still and wait for rescue, which hadn't worked real well for her so far. No, it was time for action.

  Decision made, Amy threw the plate at the floor, smashing it with an ear-shattering crash. Then, as soon as she heard footsteps, she put both hands to her neck and began to make realistic choking noises.

  The door burst open, and out of the corner of her eye she saw the guard charging towards her. There was a split second when she thought her plan had failed, that he would keep his feet and reach her in half a dozen paces. Then, without warning, the guard's legs flew out from underneath, the soles of his boots skidding on the greasy floor like a pair of ice skates. He went over backwards, arms flailing, and landed on his back with a terrific thud. There was a hollow crack as his skull hit the unyielding floor, and then he lay still.

  Amy sidled towards him, ready to run at the slightest movement. The guard's eyes were closed, and for a second or two she wondered if she'd killed him. Then she noticed the regular rise and fall of his chest. Knocked out, that was all.

  Pausing only to take the guard's gun and keys, Amy circled the treacherous, greasy patch on the floor and left the cell. She closed the door and locked it, hoping that would give her a little more time, and then, heart thudding in her chest, she set off down the corridor towards the exit. Her first priority was to rescue Hal, and then she'd see about escaping the compound and meeting up with Clunk.

  * * *

  Admiral Lardo gave Hal a long, calculating look. Then she shrugged and grunted a command. With a sinking feeling, Hal realised she'd given up on the interrogation, and meant to end his life right there and then.

  As the guards hoisted him up, trying to drive his skull onto the waiting bayonet, Hal jerked his legs into the air, pivoting in their grip until he was completely upside-down. He drove his legs upwards and his feet thudded onto the roof, either side of the wicked dagger. The guards kept lifting, making his legs bow with the strain, and as the point came closer and closer to neutering him, Hal wondered whether he hadn't just made a bad situation far worse.

  Slowly, straining for all he was worth, Hal began to counter the guards' efforts. He straightened his legs, millimetre by millimetre, getting further and further from the waiting knife blade. Then, before he could do anything to escape, there was a thunder of heavy footsteps as the Admiral rushed over to help. Hal realised he could never fight three of them, so as soon as she was in range Hal gave a huge, final thrust against the roof. Taken by surprise, the guards tumbled to the ground, and as he fell from their grip Hal lashed out with his foot. He caught the Admiral on the shoulder, knocking her off-balance, and the momentum carried him backwards, out of reach of the guards. With all four of them scrabbling on the floor, Hal scurried towards the door, barely managing to evade the guards' desperate attempts to grab his ankles. Then he was clear, on his feet and running full tilt along a dank corridor, while behind him the Admiral's outraged squealing sounded like the death throes of a pig in a slaughterhouse.

  * * *

  Amy heard the inhuman squealing somewhere ahead of her, and she quickly took the next turning. Whatever had caused that hair-raising sound, she didn't want to go anywhere near it. Then she realised it might have something to do with Hal, and she skidded to a halt. She still had the blaster she'd taken from the guard, but she'd have no chance against a squad of trained soldiers. Better to find Clunk so the pair of them could work together to free Hal.

  Amy continued down the corridor, but she'd only made it halfway when she heard footsteps coming up behind her. There were angry shouts too, and she guessed her escape from the cells had been discovered.

  Amy ran faster, rounded a corner … and stopped dead. In front of her was a small room with a teleporter, and a surprised-looking alien peering at her over the top of a pair of glasses. He was wearing a lab coat, and was apparently a teleporter technician of some kind. There was nobody else around, and no other exit from the room.

  Amy drew the gun and pointed it at the tech. "Hands up," she whispered, gesturing to make her meaning clear.

  The tech obeyed, his face a mask of terror, and beads of sweat appeared on his forehead as he contemplated the gun. Luckily for Amy, he seemed to know even less about alien weapons than she did. For example, she had no idea if she was pointing the right end at him.

  Amy heard footsteps getting closer, and she realised it was only a matter of seconds before she was discovered. Then shots rang out, and a volley of bright blue energy bolts ricocheted off the wall and narrowly missed the tech, who dived for cover.

  Amy knew there was only one way out, so she ran for the teleporter, found the controls, and hit the go button.

  * * *

  Hal ran along the corridor with several guards hot on his heels. At first they just chased him, cursing and shouting what he assumed were demands for him to stop and give himself up. When this didn't work they started shooting, sending warning shots skimming past his head. At least, he hoped they were warning s
hots. Either way, he had no intention of standing still to find out.

  Hal ran around a corner and emerged in a small room, where he was immediately blinded by a terrific flash of light. Blinking and clawing at his eyes, he just made out the vague shape of a teleporter, and without pausing to think he dived inside and hit the go button. As the teleporter fired, Hal saw a tech cowering behind a nearby console. The alien was staring at him in astonishment through a pair of glasses perched on the end of his snout, and Hal hoped he didn't have the means to reverse the teleporter - or change the destination to a nearby star, or the hard vacuum of space.

  * * *

  Amy leapt from the teleporter, sparing a briefest of glances for her surroundings. She saw a room similar to the one she'd just left, unoccupied this time, but there was no time for a proper search, or to discover where she'd ended up. Instead, she spun to face the teleporter and raised her weapon. She'd have to block the chamber as soon as she could, but in the meantime anyone following her through was going to get his head blown off.

  Flash! The teleporter activated and a figure stumbled towards her, a vague, shadowy silhouette against the overwhelmingly bright light. Amy pointed her gun and pulled the trigger again and again, trying to gun the pursuer down before he could grab her and drag her back to captivity. However, instead of going off, obliterating the menace, the gun merely buzzed. Furious, Amy tried again, and then she drew her arm back and threw the weapon, which bounced off the figure's skull with a satisfying crack.

  "Ow, fug!" yelled the pursuer, bending double and clutching his head.

  "Hal?" said Amy, in shock. "Is that you?"

  "Of course it's me, you skull-rattling amazon. Who the hell else would it be?"

  "Oh, I don't know. Maybe one of the dozen soldiers who were chasing me?"

  "Chasing you? They were chasing me! I thought I got away until you tried to knock my brains out."

  Amy turned cold as she remembered her frenzied pulling of the trigger, when she was trying to blast the pursuer with the gun. "Believe me, it could have been worse."

  "Remind me of that when this latest headache wears off."

  Hal was about to step out of the teleporter, but Amy stopped him. "Stay there and they can't follow us."

  "Don't be silly. If they use an override code I'll be stuffed full of B'Con, and not in a good way."

  "Just for a minute or two, until I find some other lump of junk to take your place."

  While Hal stood in the chamber, nervously eying the control panel, Amy ran to the nearby console and fetched a sturdy-looking chair on wheels. She dragged it back to the chamber, and as she wheeled it inside Hal sprang out with a relieved look on his face.

  Then the two of them gathered up every loose object they could find, from tablet computers to clipboards to display screens, and they threw everything into the teleporter chamber as fast as they could.

  "You realise this is stranding us too?" remarked Hal, as he lobbed someone's family portrait into the teleporter. There was a crash as the glass broke, and a fizz as the photo frame's circuit fused.

  "Worry about that later. Right now we just have to stop the others coming through."

  Hal added one or two extra pieces to the pile, then dusted his hands off. "That ought to do it." Then a thought occurred to him. Buildings often had more than one elevator, and the pair of them were going to look pretty silly if there was a second teleporter nearby. He shared his concerns with Amy, who nodded.

  "We'd better clear out of here," she said. "We'll hole up somewhere until the fuss dies down, then teleport back to the planet to find Clunk."

  "We'd better grab the address before we go."

  They activated the teleporter control panel, and Hal hunted around for something to write with. In the end he found a sharp edge and scratched the row of symbols onto a strip of plastic. It wasn't perfect, but he figured it was close enough. Plus, if they got soaked in yet another flood, the marks on the plastic would survive whereas paper and ink would just turn to mush.

  Then they made their way to the door, which opened with a whoosh at their approach. Hal poked his head out into a long, brightly-lit corridor, and his stomach rumbled as he picked up the delicious smell of hot food. It was a long time since his last meal, and a slap-up feast would go down a treat right about now.

  Then he noticed something else, and all thoughts of food fled his mind. The way the floor was trembling, ever so slightly. The familiar background rumbles and creaks. The slightly metallic tang in the air. They hadn't teleported to another planet … they'd materialised aboard an alien spaceship!

  Hal's mood brightened instantly. Forget strange planets, army bases and native villages … this was his environment. All they had to do was capture the alien ship, rescue Clunk, find their way back to human space, track down the Volante, deliver the cargo and - to cap off the whole exercise - organise a decent meal. Even better, an alien ship had to be worth a fortune, and Hal salivated at the thought of wealthy governments trying to outbid each other on his online auction. Fame and fortune … what an outcome!

  "Are you thinking about food again?" Amy asked him. "Only your stomach is rumbling something chronic, and —"

  "Sorry, I lost track for a minute." Hal glanced up and down the corridor, making sure they were alone, and then he explained his plan to Amy.

  "What about the crew?" she asked, ever practical. "How many do you think there are?"

  "I don't know," said Hal honestly. "If it's a cargo vessel, just a few."

  "How big do you think the ship is?"

  Hal shrugged.

  "Do you know how to fly it?"

  "Yes. I mean, no. I mean probably. Or maybe not."

  "Can you find your way back to the planet where we left Clunk?"

  "Er … no."

  "What about our galaxy? Can you find that?"

  After a moment or two, Hal shook his head.

  "So as far as plans go, yours is not really going to fly, is it?"

  Reluctantly, Hal had to agree.

  "Okay. In that case, this is what we'll do." Amy brandished the blaster she'd taken off her guard. "This thing's a bust, so we'll hunt around for some bigger weapons, then hide nearby until the aliens come through the teleporter. While they're running around looking for us, we'll shoot the guards, teleport back to the planet, shoot anyone they left behind, then find Clunk."

  "And then we bring Clunk back here —"

  "— shoot anyone else who gets in our way, capture the ship, and get Clunk to fly us home."

  Hal nodded. Apart from all the shooting — with weapons they'd yet to find, let alone learn to fire — the plan sounded workable.

  "Right," said Amy. "Let's find some proper weapons. And for goodness sake, try and keep your stomach quiet!"

  Chapter 36

  Admiral Lardo marched into the teleporter room, her face red from the unaccustomed effort and her shoulder still aching from the impact of the Euman's boot. Her mood was savage, and she itched to use her combat knife on someone … anyone … friend or foe.

  "Well?" she demanded, surveying the dozen or so heavily-armed troops who were standing around like a bunch of road workers on double pay. "Where are the prisoners?"

  "They went through the teleporter," said a nervous-looking officer.

  "And you didn't follow because …?"

  The officer blanched. If this went badly, the Admiral's words wouldn't be the only thing left dangling in mid-air. "Sir, they've disabled the destination teleporter. It seems … it seems they've blocked the chamber."

  "So? Signal the flagship and tell them to clear it."

  "We tried, but we can't get through."

  Lardo turned to the teleporter technician, who was still cowering behind the console. "You. Explain!"

  "Th-this teleporter is an older model," said the tech nervously. "Comms signals travel on a paired sideband, and —"

  "Speak plainly, you fool!"

  The tech gulped. "If the destination is blocked, we can't se
nd messages either."

  "Fix this now," said Lardo. "I don't care how. Just do it."

  The tech cowered under the Admiral's furious glare. "Y-yes, Admiral. Immediately, Admiral."

  There was a slight pause.

  "Well?" demanded Lardo.

  "I—I'm not sure how."

  "Is there an override?"

  "Yes, but —"

  Lardo reached the tech in three steps, hauled him bodily out from behind the console, and pushed him into the teleporter. "Do it."

  "But sir —"

  "Sir, we might need the tech if this doesn't work," said the officer.

  Lardo muttered under her breath, but the idiot had a point. So, she pulled the tech from the chamber and replaced him with the officer. "Now hit it."

  The tech was about to object, until he saw the Admiral drawing her knife. With shaking fingers he fiddled with the control panel, and after an apologetic look at the resigned officer, he hit the go button.

  Fl-fl-flashhhh!

  When the light cleared, the chamber stood empty.

  "Did it work?" demanded Lardo.

  The tech inspected the control panel. "No sir. No luck. The officer is stored in the —"

  "I don't care." Lardo dismissed the unfortunate officer with an impatient gesture. "Try another one."

  "Sir, there isn't room in the storage —"

  "At this very moment, a pair of Euman agents are running around my flagship. Nobody knows what kind of damage they could do, and I'm not going to find out." Lardo gestured with her dagger. "So, you will try another one. After that, another, and another, and so on until we break through, or until we run out of volunteers. Do you understand?"