The young man laughed and then smiled broadly as he pulled her from him, “Well, hello Beautiful!”
Tim Baine was a first class pilot, in a single engine fighter, and was also the Academy’s Ace flirt.
He had what it took too: boyish good looks, gorgeous blue eyes, a smile that could set the world on fire and a casual over-friendly teasing manner that made him hard to ignore. And worst of all, he knew it.
Valesque regained her footing, shaking free of the pilot’s unwelcome embrace as she pushed her hair back out of her eyes and gave him a good hard look.
He was standing before her quite amused, dressed in a dark-grey flight suit with black striping.
Obviously some lost space jockey.
She then took a quick glance behind him at what was obviously his vehicle, a low slung highly aerodynamic little number. She was about to comment on the `no hovering’ law for this area when she noticed something else which made her glance back at him not sure which was worse: being a jockey pilot or being a jockey POLICE pilot!
Valesque looked him over again disapprovingly. “You’re with the Intergalactic Police Force, huh?” she asked in a voice of forced civility.
The I.P.F is called a policing force but it had always been more of a mercenary organization; it had loyalties to no government or solar system and would take any kind of job from any source. It claimed neutrality to all conflicts and would work for either side.
Although the I.P.F claimed to be a separate and distinct entity from the I.P.A it was actually a secret division of the military. It was the Intergalactic Planetary Alliance's way to get more money and to stick its fingers in to every crack it could find.
About the middle of the 23rd century, the Earthians had finally stopped fighting against themselves. Actually, they had been forced to stop, due to the destruction they had caused to their planet from centuries of pollution and war. The remaining nations of Earth joined to form one all encompassing military organization, the Intergalactic Planetary Alliance.
The name itself was a huge joke, as there was nothing intergalactically allying about it. The entire organization had been formed for one purpose and one purpose only, to expand Earthian control and gather for themselves more resources and more power. Planets and galaxies brought under the I.P.A were usually there from threat of violence or all out war. The I.P.A subjugated the people to their will and set up an I.P.A acceptable ‘interim’ government they could control.
Everyone joked that the I.P.F's slogan was "A friendly little division of I.P.A", that is if you consider being hit men and mercenary fighter pilots for hire 'friendly'.
Valesque was not sure she liked the idea of the I.P.F being around and she was especially hoping it was not anything to do with her or another surprise from the General.
She knew the Military had severe ways to ensure all crew members were aboard at time of departure but she had another four or five hours left at least.
The Lieutenant liked her voice, it had a very rich pleasant sound, even in the angry tone. “Yes I am . . . . well . . was, anyway. I was just reassigned, and none
too soon as I can see.” he replied flirtatiously, looking her up and down. Noticing with pleasure how her thick, dark hair shimmered with blue and red in the overhead light.
“I assume you are on this crew too? This certainly promises to be a very nice mission. Let me guess,” he continued smiling broadly, eyeing her simple green uniform and white lab coat, “nurse, right? Hmm, I will definitely have to make it a point to get sick on this trip!”
“Crew?” she questioned him peevishly, totally ignoring his impertinent question. Irritated beyond belief at his very unwelcome presence. He was obviously not here in a legal capacity. “Look, exactly who are you anyway?”
The Lieutenant was not to be dissuaded, he just shrugged, and gave her one of his luminous smiles. Maybe she was just having a rough day.
“Lieutenant, Timothy Baine. First class pilot extraordinaire. At your service.” he began with a flourishing bow. “I have been assigned to the helm of this ship.”
“Not of this ship you weren’t!” the young woman exclaimed, her defenses up, obviously not enchanted. “I think you have the wrong vessel, Flyboy. The I.S.A Magellan is not ready for commission, as I have already explained in there.” she snapped, indicating the door from which she had just emerged.
“I don’t know about the Magellan,” the Pilot replied, giving her a small sympathetic smile, feeling what her embarrassment would be at finding herself at the wrong ship. “But the I.P.A Vortex is. Which is the name written on the side of this housing bay, and it fits my orders.”
“Then the paint is so wet you could write in it.” she snarled back, not even giving the building a look, furious that the General had gotten so much past her. Maybe she should have left the ship more often in the past few weeks. “Let me see your orders.”
Lieutenant Baine casually handed over the paper he had been carrying in his otherwise free hand.
He had never refused a beautiful woman anything and he was not about to start now. Because grumpy or not he was determined to get on this woman’s good side.
Valesque snatched the sheet from his hand and looked it over in quick disapproving glances, her annoyance showing ever more each second as her fist crumpled the side of the paper in her grasp.
The Lieutenant meanwhile ran a hand carelessly through his light blond hair as he watched her, pushing back the wave of forelocks that stubbornly fell over his right eye, in the way that all the girls thought so charming, except of course for this one.
Chief Engineer Valesque was totally oblivious to the man’s charms as she scanned the document in hand. “How dare they?” she muttered angrily. “How could they? My ship! How dare they classify her as a Battle Cruiser!” she seethed, spitting out the name as if it were a piece of putrefied fish.
“To my knowledge Captain C. Fairbanks will be on board exactly, . . . now.” Lieutenant Baine replied cheerily, gazing at his wrist-com, completely unfazed by her anger. He was really beginning to like her in an antagonistic kind of a way. “If you want you can always go discuss it with her, or the commanding General. I believe his name is on that paper as well.” Tim suggested helpfully.
“I was just going to see about that!” she snapped, shoving past the bewildered pilot, and continuing swiftly down the dark, drizzly street; murder on her mind.
“Hey, wait.” the young Lieutenant called out, as she quickly disappeared down the alley. “You still have my papers! . . . .Why does this always happen to me?” he sighed, still trying to catch a glimpse of the enraged woman.
Slinging his satchel over one shoulder Tim Baine turned back to the housing bay door and strolled casually into the Battle cruiser’s airlock. He then stopped in his tracks awe struck as his eyes adjusted to the lighting for the ship just kept going and going and going. He half-wondered if he had the right ship after all.
Yep, I.P.A Vortex, that is the name that had been written outside and it was on the side of the ship.
The ship was in the shape of a very large pointed oval, with the exterior measurement of one mile long and one-half of a mile across at its widest point.
With thirty decks and all the exterior walls, including the transparent ones, being five feet thick, the ship had over one hundred and three million square feet of space.
'Omega S-Class Intergalactic Battle Cruiser.' And they expected him to fly this barge! Well one thing is for sure, he thought to himself as he looked up at its towering thirty-storey frame, this is going to be one exciting ride.
Readjusting his belongings, the young pilot strode toward the first well-marked entrance he could find. Hoping it would take him to deck B-2 and his quarters. At least he was sure to like this assignment better than flying solo like he had been doing on those fighters. Especially after having met one of his new crewmates, or so he hoped.
Lieutenant Baine stopped short of the lighted gangplank to take one last look at the exterior of
his new ship. And new it appeared to be. The entire exterior hull was cleaned and buffed to a gleaming finish so that the entire ship shimmered like a giant faceted gem. In fact, with the shape of the ship resembling a Marquee cut stone and the encircling metal rim with the tall, tapering array arms, the ship looked remarkably like a Tiffany set gemstone.
He could not have known the designer of the ship had based it on a Virrilian royal jewel, all he knew was the ship was a truly breathtaking spectacle and he could almost envy those who had the privilege of viewing her exterior. It was too bad she would soon be battle scarred and the gleaming hull seared by laser fire.
As he was taking this moment for these deliberations, the young Pilot was once again waylaid by a crewmember rushing from the ship.
“This is becoming quite a habit.” he mused, freeing himself again. This time however it was not a beautiful girl but a young Ensign that had run into him.
“Oh, excuse me. I beg your pardon, Lieutenant.” Sanic fumbled hurriedly, as he noticed the other man’s rank insignia. “You didn’t by any chance just see a beautiful, dark haired woman come through here did you?”
Tim looked a little confused, why was the crew in such a hurry to get away from this ship? “Uh… yeah, I did, Ensign. I... we just ran into each other.”
The Ensign’s eyes widened with alarm, he must be way behind her by now. “Which way did she go, do you know?”
“I believe she had some notion of seeing the General. I’d tell you which one, but she took my papers.” Tim explained as obligingly as he could.
“Thank you.” the Ensign replied, mentally filing the information as he quickly started away. “I mean, thank you, Sir.” Sanic said, turning back to his superior briefly before bounding toward the exit door.
Lieutenant Baine shrugged, pressing his lips together in puzzlement. Then turning and checking to be sure no one else was about to come flying off the ship, he made his way up the ramp toward the lighted interior of the base deck.
Valesque made her way quickly along the puddle-strewn walkways toward the side of town she knew Dr. Warner to frequent. The air was thick, cool and damp making her wish she had worn something warmer than a lab coat.
The advertisements for this man-made, `Earth Orbiting’, planetoid had boasted of its high-tech Environmental Atmospheric Weather Controls. But ever since she had arrived the modern wonder always seemed to be on the blink. Valesque quickened her pace and tightened her thin white coat around her, trying to ward off the now common dreary drizzle.
Technological concepts, she had often noted, were only as good as the people hired to run them.
As she neared her destination, a sleazy looking bar on the corner of two equally sleazy looking streets, Valesque slowed her pace as she suddenly felt an eerie twinge like someone was following her.
She glanced behind her cautiously, then peered quickly down the dingy streets on either side but nothing looked out of place. She shrugged off her insecurity, supposing it to be just over-exposure to bad weather and entered the bar.
Moe’s Place, the sign read that blinked on and off at the passers by on the street, the few there were. Not many arrivals or launches were taking place here lately; the Corseccan War was putting a damper on most Earth traffic these days.
Valesque shuddered involuntarily upon entering the moodily lit warmth of the bar, the change of temperature was instantly noticeable upon her entrance. She slipped off her damp lab coat and made her way to the back of the building.
Walking past the long slightly curved faux wood bar, past the huddling clientèle who had come here seeking refuge from the cold as well as from the I.P.A.
For they heard an unscheduled launching was taking place today and they knew what that meant: involuntary crew assignments.
Valesque was in search of one man in particular, the proprietor, a guy named Moe. Who just happened to be Dr. Warner’s closest pal. She caught sight of him about half way through her trek and called out to him as he sat at a high table at the far end of the place.
He seemed to have heard her but kept on talking to the man seated opposite him, only stopping long enough to give a split second glance at who had called. Valesque was in too much of a hurry to let that stop her or to care that he was in conversation with someone else as she approached. “Moe,” she interrupted urgently, “have you seen Dr. Warner today? This morning?”
Moe gave the other man a nod of dismissal as he turned his attention on her, “You just interrupted a very important business opportunity here, Val.” he grumbled in his deep Old New York accent.
“I’m sorry Moe, but this is urgent,” Valesque implored, leaning heavily over the table, “I’ve got to find Dr. Warner.” “Urgent, eh?” he queried, giving her a contemplative look as he scratched his two day growth. “Yeah, I heard you’s was launching today. Kinda sudden ain’t it, I mean ya finished up awful quick didn’t ya?”
“Yeah, finished, right. We’re about as done as the food you serve here.” she joked bitterly. “Listen, Moe, do you know where he is? I have to find him and quick, they are about to launch our ship! They will destroy her if I don’t find him! He’s bound to know what’s going on.”
“I’ve seen him.” Moe replied thoughtfully. “But I don’t think it was today. What time is it?” he asked, checking his wrist chronometer. “Nope it wasn’t today. Yesterday I saw him, came in here late, and seemed a little edgy if ya ask me.”
“But you don’t know where he is now?” she pressed.
“No I don’t, you might try down at the Military building though, he said he had a meeting with that General you were havin’ trouble with, ya know the one.”
“Yeah, Moe, I know the one. He was supposed to meet with him four hours ago, though. And now that General seems to have subterfuged his way into taking over my ship. He even managed to assign me to it as an ensign. Can you imagine, me an ensign? I know one thing though, I am not going to sacrifice my life on his mindless journey to Corseccan space! One way or another I am not launching with that ship today.” the Engineer fumed.
Moe had known both John Warner and Valesque long enough to have grasped a little of her situation with her home world, but he could not help her now. Like it or not, what she was contemplating was not only dangerous but downright impossible.
“I’d like to help you out, Val, but you know my rules: When the I.P.A is involved I am out of it. I mean, I like you and all and John is my best bud but I draw the line at vaporization. That just don’t sit too well with me, ya know?”
“I know, Moe, I know. But I do not, can not and will never happen to like the idea of being kidnapped onto my own ship either. This has never come up before; I have no idea how to get out of it.”
“If I may make a small suggestion,” Moe interrupted, “go along with it and get out of it later. Your chances of escape here are much smaller than they would be out in open space, a lot less troopers out there too, if I may add. You designed the bloomin’ ship I am sure once you are out there you could figure your way off. If you don’t get blasted tryin’.”
“Thanks, Moe, that’s really . . . comforting.” Valesque replied slowly, seeing she was not about to get any help here.
“And if I may make a further suggestion for the immediate future,” Moe continued, his round face darkening with concern, “may I suggest you hurry on your way? I mean, not that I would ever push away a friend or nutt’n but uh . . . the nearer we are getting to the launch time the more likely some I.P.A men will be tracking you down. Not that I doubt your success, Val, I mean you’re one smart cookie, ya know. But, uh . . . I kinda like my place the way it is, in one piece if ya know what I mean.”
“Hint noted and taken.” Valesque replied, gathering up her lab coat and heading for the door.
“Remember, Val, if you are ever this way again my door is always open. I’ll tell John ya were looking for him, if I ever see him again.” the man called warmly as she left.
Valesque stopped suddenly just outside of th
e entrance, she had almost forgotten how frigid it had been. She slipped on her lab coat and felt that same eerie chill, as if someone was watching her.
Virrilians were especially adept at sensing their surroundings, a Virrilian in hunting mode even more so. In hunting mode, a Virrilian could sense a quarry’s heart rate, nervous system and feel any little twitch it made. Valesque almost went into hunting mode now, but thought the better of it, she was just being paranoid after all. She was always paranoid in situations she was not familiar with, and this one was very unfamiliar.
Space Trippers Book 1: Trippin' Page 3
