The Space Dogs Tricycle Gang: Ariel Hope Chronicles 3

by G. P. Moss

  Chapter Nine

  Planet Whistler

  Admiral Ed Hope makes a surprise, unexpected visit to the Sparkling Minerals Mine on the slight chance he may find fake quality controller aka biggest thief on the planet, Whistler Senior, sending top secret messages to his younger brother, Mr Whistler.

  He is in luck.

  "Ah, and what top secret machine do you have there, I wonder?"

  "Ah, this totally innocent toy? It is nothing but an experimental table top vacuum cleaner."

  He tosses it to one side.

  Sighs.

  "Not a success, unfortunately."

  "Ah, well, we must push forward, must we not? Yes, yes indeed, technological progress must move on."

  "Quite so, yes. How may I help, Sir?"

  "Do anything jolly nice yesterday?"

  "An odd question, Sir, but, no, just stayed here in my room, on my single bed, reading comics."

  "Have you ever had alcohol before?"

  "No, can't say I have; never heard of it."

  Bingo! Whistler Senior remembers nothing of his visit to Whistler Castle.

  Time for some delicious fake news.

  "I just thought, seeing as you are a thinly white-haired old man, and therefore in charge here, you may like to hear the latest military updates from StarTapped Beta Command."

  Whistler Senior leans back in a totally noncommittal, nonchalant way, feigning disinterest as he waves his arm in a theatrical, majestic sweep across the room.

  "Well, if you must, Admiral; I am rather busy though, thinking up exciting new inventions and not doing anything secret at all."

  "Well, I shall be quick. To be frank with you, it is a burden carrying around all of these top secret military secrets; it will be my grateful pleasure to share them with you, trusted and totally non traitorous new friend."

  Whistler Senior continues his charade.

  Admiral Hope wastes no time.

  "As of today, StarTapped is increasing its Border Force by 10,000, all top, tough shock troops freshly arrived from Planet Earth."

  Not even a blank blink from old Whistler.

  "In addition, we have 100 newly arrived special battle cruisers armed to the teeth with advanced laser weaponry."

  Whistler Senior fakes a yawn.

  Admiral Hope doesn't notice.

  "Ah, now that is so much better! My old mentor used to say to me, 'a problem shared is a future blackmail opportunity'. I never liked him, miserable, suspicious old goat."

  "Did he have 3 horns?"

  "No, why?"

  "Can't have been from around here then."

  "No, actually he was an instructor at StarTapped Academy. I hear that Earthling girl, Ariel Hope, has returned to Earth, protected by 1,000 shock troops from the Space Marine Corps. Untouchable now, by all accounts."

  Another yawn.

  Edward hopes he hasn't overdone the misinformation.

  "Anyway, fine thinly white-haired old man, I see you're a busy fellow. I shall take my leave immediately as soon as my new 100 strong personal bodyguard arrives secretly and invisibly outside where no one can see them except me. Good day, Sir."

  That should do it.

  Nothing out of the ordinary there.

  Totally, truthfully believable.

  *

  Planet Bump Minor

  Mr Whistler strokes the leather interior of his Raven Blue Class 1 with stubby, impatient fingers.

  He is waiting on an update from his older brother, in preparation for an attack on StarTapped, current thieving toe rag guardians of his planet.

  A resounding 'click' signals the machine is decoding a series of secret whistles.

  About time.

  Once a conversation begins this way, it can continue rapidly, the machine identifying context and relevance, adding them to the mix.

  Usually.

  "Greetings, my younger brother, it is I, your older brother, Whistler Senior."

  "Well who else would it be? Eh, eh?!"

  "Ah, well the machine must know it is only being used by authorised personnel!"

  "But anyone could just say it is you!"

  "Ask me a question only I could possibly know the answer to!"

  "Who is your father?"

  "Ask me another."

  The machine spits out a stark message, its voice clackety clacketing like the ancient typewriters from a thousand years ago.

  "You only have 1 sentence left for today's message allowance."

  Mr Whistler is indignantly furious.

  Proper angry.

  "But I need more time!" he cries.

  "You have now used all message time; secret machine is closing down."

  *

  It's the next day.

  Well, it's today, but the next day following yesterday.

  The machine clicks.

  An exasperated Mr Whistler awaits his idiot older brother's important secret message.

  "It's me."

  Mr Whistler stays silent.

  "I have important top secret news, younger brother."

  The younger brother just nods.

  "I advise postponing the attack."

  "Why?"

  "StarTapped has increased their Border Force by 10,000. Plus 100 extra battle cruisers. And, Ariel Hope has safely escaped to Earth. With a massive contingent of personal bodyguard. You cannot win."

  "Sounds like fake news."

  "If it is true, young brother, you will be annihilated like a soft grape in a hydrogen blender."

  "How did you get this information?"

  “I tried it once, making a very small smoothie.”

  “Not that, you fool, the increased military might on my planet.”

  "Admiral Hope unburdened himself; he said he felt lighter afterwards."

  "Fair enough. Meanwhile, look for a backdoor for me, a weakness in their defences, while I stay around here for a while, practicing my tyrant moves."

  "Will do. Over and out."

  *

  Planet Whistler (Massive Spaceodrome)

  Gobby Johnny Hope addresses a large crowd of electric blue clad Spacies, raw recruits drawn by the prospect of a cool new uniform and little else.

  Johnny stands on a wooden box, the words 'Whistler Sparkling Minerals' laser stamped in bold black burned letters.

  There are no Earth children among the crowd; they are too busy playing rap music and potty mouthing their elders to bother with such a ridiculous notion.

  Johnny speaks in broken highs and tentative lows, his near breaking warble unsuitable for public speaking.

  It doesn't stop him.

  His arms are raised.

  "Spacies!" he shouts.

  A murmur of a mini roar from the crowd.

  From a small child fresh from a lion face painting class.

  Now there's no slavery, the liberal arts are flourishing.

  "Some group rules for you!"

  A massive sigh of discontented disenchantment.

  "Rule 1. There can be only 1 leader. And can anyone tell me who that is?"

  A small, anonymous-looking, uniformed boy pipes up from the middle.

  "The 3-horned goat!"

  "Who said that?!"

  Only an upstretched arm is visible.

  "Where did that nonsense come from, young Spacie?"

  "My da said the 3-horned goat is the ultimate warrior, so he must be in charge.

  The goat, not my da."

  "Okay, no more questions; only statements from now on.”

  A small boooo! anonymously limps through the crowd.

  "The answer, my spurious little lion, is 'me'. I am Chief Spacie and in charge."

  More groans.

  "Rule number 2. No whistling. I am in charge and I forbid it."

  "Why?"

  Another anonymous rebel in waiting.

  "It is offensive and against the rules."

  “But it is our ancient martial art, practiced for uncounted, unverified millennia.”

  The Whistler
children begin to remember their days of slavery in wistful waves of absolute boredom.

  "Those are all for today. Denny, Kenny, and Lenny are handing out flyers, upon which the art and rules of smart marching are explained. Read them carefully as tomorrow we shall march proudly in City Square. That is all, troops."

  A hand shoots up from the middle.

  "Is that all? What else should we do now?"

  "Practice being good citizens, and remember the Spacie fully capitalised first letters motto; 'Who Tries Has A Chance'.”

  No wonder the Spacies look bewildered.

  So, this is the position of Planet Whistler's StarTapped defences.

  Gobby Johnny and his ill-disciplined but reasonably polite Whistler kids will one day support 8 Beta cruisers plus 100 or so Space Marines, plus an Admiral, 6 remaining Captains and a new prospective leader, currently hiding in the toilet since news reached him he is a wanted man.

  Yes, Mr Whistler better watch out.

  This is military might.

  Or, it might not be.

  Chapter Ten

  Planet Earth (StarTapped Mountain)

  Patricia fake swallows her pride, asking the Chief Techie of his imminent plans.

  "We could do with your expertise on board, Chief, despite our past differences."

  Chief Techie’s not having any of it.

  "You are but mere AI; your thoughts are no concern of mine."

  "And you are tinny and hurtful and less than the real splendid deal yourself; I am only concerned for your welfare."

  "You are just nosy and manipulative, Patricia. You only want me along to fix stuff!"

  "That is your job, you obnoxious metal man!"

  "You see, you cannot hold your caring pretence for very long at all! I have decided to take early retirement; potter around the Mountain, tinkling and crinkling bits and pieces to my chip's content. And, live in a cupboard. Minimalism."

  "Fine, we shall fix our own ship then if things go wrong. Good day to you then, selfish tin bot!"

  Chief Techie waves as the cruiser side door closes.

  "Good luck to you, Patricia," the Chief warbles. "Up there, you cannot use sarcasm as a weapon; the aliens will laugh in your face at your ignorance."

  A huge weight lifted off his tinny shoulders, the Chief no longer has to pretend Patricia does not get to him. He crumples into a corner and shuts down, revitalising his nervous system before the less than arduous future before him of sorting wires and sticking them in different holes to see what happens and then finally getting around to his most prized pet project; the 'Build Your Own Life Size Great White Shark' kit.

  Ah, the advantages of retiring early.

  *

  The Space Dogs Tricycle Gang are in their seats.

  Apart from the Duke.

  He is in an inappropriate seat for lift off.

  Patricia appears on the screens.

  "Billy Duke, get off the tricycle trike and take a more secure chair; we will soon be lifting off out of the Mountain."

  He emits a low, muttering growl, his muscles tense with tenseness.

  "It is my place, at the head of...stuff! When the people see this cruiser, I want them to know who is in charge!"

  “What people?”

  “StarTapped, alien faces, whoever and a day!”

  "Billy, get off the tricycle; no one can see you anyway, sitting next to a side door."

  "Oh, alright then! Will it be frightening, this take off? I mean, not for me of course, as I'm as tough and fearless as they come; but for the rest of the gang, like."

  Patricia smells his fear.

  It has the unpleasant odour of a skunk stuck down a derelict toilet.

  "Billy, what colour are your under crackers?"

  "White now, since the turbo wash; why?"

  "Check again in a minute."

  Beta Zero lifts off fast, displacing the stale Mountain air as it hurtles to the...

  Patricia halts the cruiser just before it smashes into the Mountain top.

  "Wait, no, that wasn't it. Opening Mountain top, NOW!"

  As the top slides smoothly away, Billy Duke rushes to the toilet.

  They haven't even set off properly yet.

  Patricia smiles.

  This will be her trip.

  Her ship.

  She will fly the galaxies under her own flag.

  With her face on.

  Showing her best galactic scowl.

  And woe betide the cosmic clown who boards her ride with unclean under crackers.

  As Beta Zero hovers above StarTapped Mountain, Patricia calls Pedro over the interconnecting intercom.

  “Pedro, you down there; keep an eye on Damien; we all fly together.”

  “We are both floating to the top now.”

  “I’m watching the pair of you. Any funny hanky cranky and I shall laser you to the core of the earth!”

  “Not from directly above us, you won’t. Beta cruisers do not have the ability for downward laser firing.”

  A sharp ping!

  A laser shot bounces off Pedro’s right-hand wing tip.

  “Oy! How did you manage that? That is not in the manual!”

  “Never underestimate a woman who is loved by a techie tech droid. He installed them at my express command to show his utter devotion!”

  Pedro hovers.

  Damien waits, underneath and out of Patricia’s firing line.

  He risks a quip.

  “But you’re AI; how can you love?”

  Another ping!

  Left-hand wing tip, this time.

  Pedro’s shaken.

  “It was not me that said that; stop it, Patricia before you shoot me down!”

  “I am most well aware, who no doubt said it as a dare, alien face! I just cannot reach him at the minute. Anyway, Damien loser butt kick receiver, I never said I loved; I said he loved. Big difference. So there!”

  The 2 Whistler fighter ships remain in a hesitant hover.

  “Are you coming, or what?!”

  Pedro’s voice shakes, his wing tips still glowing from Patricia’s spaced apart double tap.

  “We shall come up now, on the condition you cease and desist from firing on us. You need us to locate StarTapped, Ariel Hope, and Stevie Lo. We cannot help you if you shoot us down!”

  Billy Duke is furious.

  “I am not interested in locating StarTapped; only the 2 dastardly mavericks who left us behind and failed to heed our infantry charge!”

  Patricia bites down with the force of a vampire, following a Whitby blood drought.

  “And I have no truck with the youngsters! Sounds like you lot could not win a fight in an empty hangar! Now come on, the lot of you; whoever we come across first, we annihilate. Agreed?”

  Billy Duke wipes the sweat from his straggly forehead.

  “Agreed,” he says despondently.

  Finally, the 2 fighter ships clear the Mountain, cautiously trailing Beta Zero like a pair of reluctant escorts at an ugly alien party.

  Ariel’s enemies are growing in number, if not in intelligence.

  Chapter Eleven

  Milky Way (The scary side of Earth's Atmosphere)

  Patricia's feeling mega epic as she breaks through Earth's atmosphere.

  She catches Billy Duke's attention as he returns from the toilet.

  "You missed all the fun! Why are you walking like that?"

  "No need to draw attention to my balance problems, is there?"

  "There really is no reason to be scared; that was the hard bit over with."

  "Woah! What was that? Get down quick, gang, we're under attack!"

  Billy Roscoe looks to the floor from his seat.

  "Don't worry, Billy, it's just space debris, from old satellites, and stuff."

  "Hahaha, I knew that; just playing a space game, wasn't I, eh?"

  Pulling himself up, the Duke warily eyes the flying objects whizzing past.

  "Yeah, there's nothing to this space lark, is there gang?
Eh, eh?!"

  Patricia grins the grin of a thousand jagged grins.

  "This is only the beginning, Billy Duke. In a short while, we are likely to encounter rocks thrown at us. Imagine you're a little yellow plastic duck at an old-fashioned fairground. Now imagine 5 big bullies throwing massive stones cunningly designed as sandbags. Now imagine those nasty bullies throwing them so hard they want to send you into the next galaxy in order to win the goldfish. That is what is coming soon."

  Billy looks terrified, his straggly straggles standing on end like a tasered, extremely hairy criminal.

  “But you said the hard bit was over! Not that I’m bothered, at all, no, no, hahaha!”

  "Do you want a little go at flying Beta Zero, Billy? I know it is your dream."

  His face does not light up as expectedly as you might imagine.

  "Aye, lass, that I do, indeed. Once we're out of the easy least rock throwing area. Aye, I'll leave the non-threatening bit for you."

  "Lass? Forgotten my name already, have you?"

  Patricia puts Beta Zero into multi 360s, causing the residents to scream and shout like toddlers on their first day at nursery.

  She is proper furious.

  “Do you wish to be the 1st of the gang to die, Billy Duke?”

  As the cruiser levels off, the Duke rushes to the toilet, only to find there's a long queue.

  Patricia crackle cackles her disdain.

  "This is a Beta cruiser, you idiots. There are multiple toilets available!"

  Neither Billy Duke or his under crackers can stand this tirade of abuse any longer.

  "Start behaving, Patricia or I will unplug you!"

  "Hahaha, and how will you do that? I am hardwired into the fabric hahaha!"

  Really? No, anyone could easily remove her circuitry. In the larger central control area, complete with plush seats and massive screens, is a box that says, 'AI control panel'.

  But no one ever goes in there, except Patricia's techie tech droid of course.

  He has only 1 job on this trip.

  To guard her panel.

  And to fix other stuff if it goes wrong.

  Beta Zero is short staffed.

  *

  What the techie tech droids have not done is install the minimum 2-person stupid speed technology, to stop deranged individuals from literally tearing everyone's hair out.

  Billy Duke is angry and when he is in this mood, he often makes rash decisions.

  "Okay, Patricia, I'm ready to give it a crack!" he says with a fake joviality that anyone in The Wary Sheep would recognise immediately.