Space Team: The Guns of Nana Joan

by Barry J. Hutchison

  Sinclair’s jaw dropped. “I… I didn’t say that. That isn’t me. No-one will believe it.”

  Cal shrugged. “Hmm. Let’s find out. Mech, can you show us outside?”

  A stack of nine glowing cubes went dark, then changed to show an image of outer space. Zertex and the Symmorium were still locked in battle, but the image zoomed in past them, revealing two more fleets approaching.

  “The D’uzen and… Sorry, what was it again?” Cal asked.

  “Tallash,” said Sinclair, almost robotically.

  “Oh, and hello!” said Cal. “What’s this at the front, leading them here? Why, it’s only a giant fonking Colossobot, being piloted by my good friend, Splurt. Mech, tell Splurt to give us a wave.”

  There was a moment of silence. Then, on screen, the Colossobot raised an arm and waved.

  “There he is!” said Cal. “I asked him to go fetch your buddies and bring them along.” He frowned. “Although… what was it you said about them again?”

  The robot’s mouth lit up. “Both fine races, actually. A little… backwards, perhaps, but dependable.”

  “That was it! Thank you, Mech,” said Cal. He cracked his knuckles and shot the president a smile designed to utterly infuriate him. “I’m going to give you a choice, Hayel. You can either call off this war, step down, and live out the rest of your days in peace, or we can show the whole fonking universe everything you’ve said. Oh, along with the original footage of what really happened to Pikkish. Thanks for that, by the way, that idea hadn’t occured to me at all.”

  Sinclair ground his teeth together, contemplating this. He opened his mouth to reply, but Cal stopped him.

  “Actually, that first one was never going to happen. Mech, send it all!”

  “No!” Sinclair roared. He frantically tried to pull his hand free, but the robot guard held it tight. “You can’t do this. You can’t do this!”

  “Actually, Hayel,” said Cal. “I’m pretty sure we just have.”

  * * *

  Loren swung wildly with a punch, found nothing, and almost lost her balance. Miz’s nostrils flared, her ears twitching as she tried to pinpoint Dash’s location. The cycling of the air and the droning of the extractor fans made it difficult, though, and she could only make rough guesses, at best.

  She raised her rifle and fired. The bolt exploded against the wall directly across from her. “Shizz,” she muttered.

  “What are you doing?” Loren wheezed. “Don’t shoot him.”

  “Then find him and kick his butt,” Miz said.

  Something hit Loren in the kidneys. She twisted, flailing with a backhand strike, but Dash was nowhere within reach.

  A kick struck the side of Loren’s knee. She limped clear, turning in the direction the strike had come from, hoping to see some flicker of movement, or something for her to direct her attack at.

  A punch connected with her from the other side, rising upwards, as if Dash had been crouching there, waiting to strike. Loren made a grab for where she hoped he’d be, but found only empty space.

  This was getting her nowhere. She stopped moving, closed her eyes, and focused. She knew Dash. They’d fought every day as kids, and again during Loren’s training. She’d beaten him then, not because she was better – although she was – but because he was predictable. He was strong and fast, yes, but he lacked imagination. She had beaten him because no matter how spontaneous he tried to be, she had learned to predict what he’d do next.

  Loren turned, blocking Dash’s kick with her left arm, and grabbing for him with her right. She found the fabric of his uniform and knotted her fingers up in it so he couldn’t pull away. Then, with a cry of triumph, she slammed him against the wall, kicked out one of his legs, and dropped him to the floor.

  Hissing and spitting with rage, she found his wrist and pulled off the cloaking tech. Dash appeared instantly, his eyes wide with fear, his face still awash with blood, spittle and snot.

  “Wait, Teela, don’t!” he pleaded, but her hands went around his throat and she put all her weight behind them, pushing down until his pale blue skin started to turn purple.

  “I didn’t betray anyone, Dash. I just saw what was happening and picked the right side,” she snarled. Dash’s eyes bulged, and Loren eased off on the pressure enough for him to catch his breath. “I want to kill you, but I won’t. I won’t.”

  “You should have,” Dash coughed, then he raised his hand and sprayed something green and toxic into Loren’s eyes. She fell back, her hands clamped over her face, as her brother got to his feet.

  Miz was on him in a heartbeat, her claws fully extended, teeth bared. She was about to introduce him to his own chest cavity when Sinclair’s voice came over the speakers.

  “Oh sure, I may have wiped out your planet, destroyed Pikkish and deliberately started a war with the Symmorium, but does that make me the bad guy?”

  Miz and Dash both looked up. Loren pulled her hands away from her face, blinking through the pain and the tears.

  There was a high-speed zzzzip noise, like a tape rewinding, then Sinclair’s voice came again.

  “So, come on, Cal. Put me out of my misery. Explain your plan. You break in here, hack the system, find the footage that showed the Symmorium didn’t blow up Pikkish, then what? What did you hope to do with it?”

  ZZZZZIP.

  “I faked the Pikkish footage, granted, but what’s to say anyone would believe your version over mine? A known fugitive showing off their ‘alternate footage’ of an event that has now been broadcast thousands of times in every system? Why would anyone believe you over me?”

  Dash swallowed. “What is this?”

  “Come on, Dashy,” said Loren, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. “I thought you knew a traitor when you heard one?”

  “No, but… But… This isn’t…” Dash shook his head. “But he told me… He showed me…” Swallowing, Loren’s brother tried to pull himself together. “I was just following orders,” he whimpered. “I was just following orders.”

  “Tell it to the Symmorium,” Loren said. She lunged forwards and smashed the heel of her hand into his face. His head snapped back, thumped against the wall, then Miz stepped away and he fell like a broken doll to the floor.

  “Nicely done,” said Miz. “Want me to, like, eat him now, or whatever? Because I totally will.”

  “Tempting,” said Loren. She made a weighing motion with her hands, then shook her head. “But maybe another time. Let’s get back to the ship.”

  Miz nodded. “I can get behind that plan.”

  “Good,” said Loren. “Oh, and one more thing.” She sunk to the floor as her legs finally gave up the ghost. “You’re going to have to carry me.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Cal and Mech stepped from the elevator, just as Miz reached the bottom of the Untitled’s landing ramp. Loren was over her shoulder. She managed a half-hearted wave when she saw Cal, then stared in concern at Mech’s missing hand.

  “Talk about timing,” said Cal. “Everyone OK?”

  “Been better,” Loren admitted. She gestured down at Mech’s hand. “What happened to you?”

  “Oh, he blew himself up,” said Cal, before Mech could open his mouth. “Don’t make a fuss, he’ll only milk it.”

  “Hey, fonk you, man!”

  “You fit to fly us out of here?” Cal asked.

  Loren blinked in surprise. “Uh, maybe I should let Kevin do it.”

  “Like, no way,” said Miz, carrying Loren up the ramp and into the ship. “He’s even worse than you are. And that’s a sentence I never thought I’d hear myself say.”

  Cal hit the button to raise the ramp, and followed the others through onto the bridge. As soon as he stepped on, there was a loud fanfare and a sound like a party blower. With a puff, a spray of glitter fell from somewhere near the ceiling.

  “Surprise!” said Kevin.

  Cal hesitated and glanced around the bridge. “What is?”

  “You had to sort of imagine m
e jumping out from behind a chair there,” Kevin explained. “Or possibly out of a big cake.”

  Miz lowered Loren into the pilot’s seat.

  “What is he even talking about?” she asked.

  “It’s a sort of welcome home party,” Kevin said. “Albeit without the party elements. Surprise!”

  Mech approached the viewscreen and took up his usual position. Miz slumped into her chair and immediately became disinterested in everything else around her.

  Cal lowered himself into his own seat. “Still not getting the surprise part,” he said.

  “Well,” said Kevin, but his voice tailed off into a lingering silence. “You’re all still alive. That’s quite surprising.”

  Cal nodded. “Yeah. Well, you got us there,” he said. “Loren, if you’d do the honors?”

  “OK, but it’s going to cost you,” she said, groaning slightly as she pulled the controls closer to her. “I never did get to try the Fauff.”

  Cal blinked in surprise, then nodded. “OK, then. Sounds fair. It’s, uh, it’s a date,” he said, then he clung to his chair as the Untitled lurched off the landing pad, and wobbled out through the shimmering force field into the dark void beyond.

  The battle between Zertex and the Symmorium had all but stopped. The transmission Mech had made of Sinclair’s confession – along with the real footage of the destruction of Pikkish showing the Symmorium had nothing to do with it – had likely taken the edge off the fighting. But it was the Colossobot standing between the two fleets, reproachfully wagging a finger at both sides which had probably ended it properly.

  It didn’t hurt that the D’uzen and Tallash fleets were gathered around it, forming a blockade between both sides.

  “Looks like the message got out,” said Cal.

  “What message? What did you do?” Loren asked.

  Mech’s metal jaw creaked into a smile. “I think we just stopped a war.”

  The Untitled banked towards the amassed armadas, gliding over on impulse power. Loren tapped a few controls on her console and part of the viewscreen changed to show Zertex Command Six behind them.

  “We should totally blow it up,” said Miz, lifting her eyes for the tiniest fraction of a second. “We could do that, right?”

  “We could,” said Cal. “But Sinclair isn’t going anywhere. We’ll let someone else handle him. I’d like to see him talk his way out of this one. Besides, Loren’s brother is still on there, right?”

  Loren shifted in her seat. “He is,” she said. “But don’t let that stop you.”

  “Hey, come on now,” said Cal. “Whatever he did, he’s still your family.”

  Loren shook her head. “It’s like you said. Family ends. You move on.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe I was wrong,” Cal said. “Maybe family is what you’re stuck with, for better or worse. Sure, they mess up sometimes.” He stared very deliberately at the back of her head. “But that doesn’t mean you turn your back on them.”

  He looked around at the others. “I mean, where would we all be then, right?”

  “Right,” Mech agreed.

  “Besides, I guess the Symmorium are totally going to kill him,” Miz said.

  “There is also that,” Cal said.

  There was a loud bleeping from the viewscreen. “Message from the Symmorium,” Mech announced.

  “On screen,” said Cal. “Oh, you already have. Subsent Takta! Nice to see you. How are things at your end?”

  Takta’s usual expression of borderline hostility was replaced by something marginally softer, although you’d have to look very hard to notice. “Am I correct in my assumption that the broadcasts transmitted from the Zertex Command station were your doing?”

  “Well, that seemed like a complicated way to ask that question, but yes. That was us,” said Cal. “Spread the word. Use it however you see fit. Sinclair is currently being manhandled by a robot back there on the station somewhere. I’m guessing there’s a queue of people who’d like to talk to him.”

  Takta nodded slowly. “Indeed,” he said. “It appears the Symmorium once more owes you a great debt.”

  “Seriously, any time,” said Cal. “To be honest, we kind of enjoy it.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Mech said, waving his arm stump.

  “Wait, actually, can we collect on that debt right now?” Cal asked.

  Takta’s dark eyes narrowed. “That depends. What do you require?”

  “Make Junta a commander again. He’s a good guy. He didn’t deserve Loren fonking up his life like that.”

  “Thanks for that,” Loren muttered. “But he’s right,” she said, raising her voice. “It’s my fault Junta got involved. He doesn’t deserve to be punished.”

  “We’ll even throw in a giant flying robot,” said Cal, indicating the Colossobot. “Although we’re taking the pilot back, because he’s adorable and we all love him so much it hurts.”

  He looked around at the others. “Well, that last part’s mostly just me.”

  The expression on Takta’s face changed, almost imperceptibly, until there was just the faintest hint of a smile about it. “Leave it with me,” he said. “I shall see what I can do.”

  The Symmorium bowed, then the image of him blinked off. “OK, then,” said Cal, rubbing his hands together. “Let’s fly over there and get Splurt, then I think that’s another action-packed Space Team adventure all wrapped—”

  BLEEP.

  “We got another transmission,” said Mech. Before Cal could respond, Nana Joan’s face appeared on screen. Higgsy, Jork and Alan were crammed in behind her. The boys all waved excitedly at the camera.

  “Nana,” said Cal. “I thought you’d be long gone.”

  “Not yet,” said Nana. “These three wanted to say goodbye first.”

  “Did we help?” asked Higgsy.

  Cal nodded and smiled. “You helped.”

  “Yay! Go Space Team!” Higgsy cheered, as he and Jork exchanged a high-five, then a low-five with Alan.

  “Uh, yeah,” said Cal, shifting in his seat. “See, the thing is, I know I said you guys were the new Space Team but, well, that was before the old Space Team got back together.”

  Higgsy and the others exchanged glances. “What do you mean?” Alan asked.

  “Just that… Well, there’s no easy way of saying this, because it seems like you’ve become pretty invested in the idea in what feels like quite a short space of time, but… You guys can’t be Space Team. We’re Space Team.”

  “I have no objections to them being Space Team,” said Mech.

  “Don’t listen to him, he’s injured and lost a lot of… wires,” said Cal. “We’re Space Team. Sorry.”

  Jork raised a hand. “Could we be Space Team 2?”

  Cal pulled a concerned face. “My worry is that then everyone would think the original Space Team – us – were all dead, and you were our replacements.”

  “Again, I have no objections to that,” Mech said.

  “Oh, I know!” said Higgsy. “We could be ‘The Other Space Team’.”

  “No, you freaking idiot,” said Jork. “That’s too long.”

  “Space Geeks!” said Cal. He wrinkled his nose. “No, that doesn’t work. Space Friends. Star Buddies. Astro… Pals.”

  “Former Restaurant Employees Turned Space Adventurers,” suggested Kevin.

  “Bit long-winded,” said Cal.

  “Uh, incidentally, who are these people?” Loren asked.

  Cal ignored her and rattled off some more suggestions. “Space Guys. Cosmo Dudes. Old Lady and the Star Boys. Three Men and a Little Lady! Wait, no, that’s a film. Steve Guttenberg’s in it.”

  “Space Teens,” said Miz, without looking up from her nails.

  Cal snorted. “Space Teens?” he said, then he raised his eyebrows. “Actually, that’s not bad.”

  “I’m seventy-three years old,” Nana pointed out.

  “OK, then, Space Teens plus Nana.”

  “Nana and the Space Teens,” the old lady
suggested.

  “Bingo!” said Cal, pointing to the screen. “I mean, granted, it’s probably a doo-wop band from the fifties, but what the Hell? They’re all dead now, anyway. Nana and the Space Teens it is.”

  Cal tapped his fingers to his brow in salute. “You guys be careful out there.”

  Nana Joan nodded. “You too, Nob Muntch.”

  The screen went dark and she ended the transmission. Loren turned in her chair and fixed Cal with an expectant look. “’Nob Muntch’?” she said.

  “Trust me. It’s a long story,” said Cal, leaning back his chair and placing his hands behind his head. “Now, then, Ms Loren,” he said, “about that date…”

  “It’s not a date,” said Loren, taking hold of the throttle. The stars stretched out as the Currently Untitled shot off into the far reaches of space.

  And then, several minutes later, they came back for Splurt.

  THE END

  Space Team will be back in

  SPACE TEAM: RETURN OF THE DEAD GUY

  Coming August 2017

  A WORD FROM THE AUTHOR

  Hello there, little one! Don’t be afraid, I won’t hurt you.

  Thank you for reading the fifth Space Team adventure. The fact you’ve made it five books into the series speaks wonders for your stamina, tenacity and – arguably – your self-loathing. I have had a blast writing these books, and hope to continue to churn them out continue writing them for a long time to come!

  That said, Space Team will be taking a break after the sixth book, as I’ll be starting an all-new series starring one of the characters from this here book you just read. Dial D for Deadman will be the first book in the Dan Deadman, Space Detective series, and I’ll be inviting you back to Down Here in October 2017 to reunite with Dan and the cast of misfits and criminals who populate his world.

  But there’s still another Space Team to go before then, and I’m aiming to make Space Team: Return of the Dead Guy the biggest and best yet, and have some pretty explosive twists lined up. (Mech is Cal’s father! Mizette has been dead the whole time! It has all been a crazy dream!*)