by Erick Drake
"Oh well, that's cleared that up," said Jones.
"Go on Mic, what do you see?"
"Well Captain, these are just impressions you understand but if we go to the Square Jaw and retrieve the information the Ambassador requires, things get bad."
"And if we don't," said Jones, "then things go extremely well, and everyone gets ice cream and cake?"
"You're not going to like this."
"Argh"
"If we don't go over there, things get horrifically bad. Very nasty. I am going to have nightmares over what I see of that potential outcome and I am someone who took in his stride the effects on the Marauding Buttocks of Sis after their atmosphere was ravaged by violent laxative storms."
"Right," said Daisy into the resulting stunned silence. "Well, that leaves no alternative then." She stood. "Jones, Tongue, meet me in the medical bay. Mic tell Doctor Smiert we're on our way."
"Where are you going?" Jones called after her.
"I need to get something from my cabin," Daisy said as she exited the bridge.
10 Upload
Smiert disliked most things. But what she disliked most of all were interruptions. Her medical bay was an island of peace and quiet and, more importantly, a solitary place where she could pursue her work unhindered by the squeamish and those that scream of unethical practice. And those that simply screamed. How she longed for old Mother Russia. Life must have been so simple in the KGB.
Daisy entered the room carrying a small case.
"Captain, I protest. What is meaning of interruption?"
"The meaning of this interruption, Doctor, is that whatever you were previously doing has now been interrupted. Tongue, have you brought the Doctor up to speed?"
"Yes"
"He has but I don't see how you get across to other ship by standing in my laboratory - damnit - medical bay."
"With this," said Daisy, placing her case upon the Doctor's desk.
"And this is what?"
Daisy opened the case revealing a complex device of dials and tubes and electrodes. Tongue whistled, "Is that what they call the 'retro look'?"
"No," said Daisy, "it's a . . . well, it's a . . ."
"It's a Neural Uploader," said Jones. "A very illegal Neural Uploader. So illegal in fact that all the originals were destroyed. If you want one these days, they have to be cobbled together out of the engineering equivalent of flotsam and jetsam just so that the AI's don't spot what you're up to by analysing your supply orders."
"You're suspiciously well informed, Mr Jones," said Daisy.
"Lucky guess," said Jones.
The Doctor was making an awed inspection of the Frankenstein device. "And you have this why?"
Daisy knew this question would be coming but still had no good answer. Her mouth opened and shut a few times, but no words were brave enough to leave it.
"Classified," said Jones.
Brilliant! Daisy nodded her approval at Jones's improvisation.
"You could be killed just for knowing about it," he added.
Daisy frowned and shook her head at his unnecessary elaboration.
Jones realised his mistake and began to panic. "I could be killed for telling you that you could be killed for even knowing about it, so forget I said anything about killing . . .or me speaking . . . at all."
"Anyway," asserted Daisy before Jones could dig his hole any deeper, "we need to get to the Square Jaw to access its private network. No shuttle craft, space suits no good, so -"
"So, we all upload our consciousness to the computer and hide from whatever kicked the shit out this star system!"
"No XO," said Daisy wearily, "Tongue, Chief Nau and I will upload our consciousness to the computer and send our digital minds over to the Square Jaw. Then we download ourselves from the Square Jaw's computer into a couple of Blokes. We direct the Blokes to access the private network, learn what we can and transfer ourselves back here. Doctor I will need you to supervise the upload and our vitals."
"Excellent Captain!" said Tongue. "If I recall correctly this was a favourite tactic of your Captain Weaver during her pirate years. You must have come top of your class for space history during your Captain's exams."
"Er, yes, that," said Daisy.
"Yes, she didn't know that because she uploaded Captain Weavers's mind patch or anything." Jones looked up, realising he had said the words aloud. "That would be ridiculous, ha ha." He blanched as everyone regarded him in silence. "Ridiculous," he added weakly.
Chief Engineer Nau entered the room.
"Oh, thank Jeebuzz!" said Jones.
"Chief, all ready?" said Daisy.
"Yep, all good. I left Mr Kettlewick in charge of engineering."
"Kettlewick? The Victorian?"
"Yeah, well he's stopped screaming now and he was an industrial engineer in 1856. So, our engines make perfect sense to him. Anyway, there isn't anyone else. Oh lovely, a Neural Uploader."
Doctor Smiert wasted no time in preparation for transfer. She assembled the equipment while the others discussed the mission or, as she thought of it, ‘stood around being irrelevant’. As she worked her mind was feverishly trying to figure out how she could steal the Neural Uploader. Oh, the applications, the applications!
She arranged three gurneys and placed the Uploader on a wheeled trolley. She took the cable from one end of the unit and plugged it into the computer. Then, after running through some final tests and tuning with Chief Nau, her preparations were complete.
"My preparations are complete," she said. "Neural upload can only handle one set of brain patterns at time. It will suck out your mind through these," she held up a couple of wires attached to the device, "digitize and transfer to computer. Then send to computer on other ship."
"Alright, Chief Nau first, then me, then Tongue," said Daisy.
"Be aware, only basic brain functions remain. You need to return to your body within two hours or your body die. If your host body die over there, you are turnip brain. Understood?"
"Get back in two hours and don't die, got it, let's get a move on" said Tongue.
"Just sign this please," Smiert handed each of them a DEVICE.
"What's this?" asked Daisy.
"If you die, I get to harvest your bodies," said Smiert.
"For organ donations, that sort of thing?"
"Organ donations? Ha, ha, yes, good one." It took Smiert a second to realise no-one else was laughing, "Oh yes! Organ donations, yes, that, medical research not experimentation or . . . food."
"What are you babbling about Smiert? Food for what?"
At that moment a hitherto unnoticed metal door shuddered as something slammed into it. Above the door was a sign reading 'KEEP OUT' and with the words 'BUT NOT THEM - KEEP THEM IN' scrawled in pen underneath.
Smiert shouted something in angry Russian and the thumping stopped. "Nothing," she said with as much of an air of faux innocence as she could muster.
"What have you got in there?" asked Tongue, taking a step toward the door.
"Time is short, yes?" said Smiert, holding up the Neural Upload head piece.
"Yes, OK chief, on you pop," said Daisy, indicating one of the gurneys.
When the Chief had made himself comfortable, Smiert placed the helmet on his head.
"Ready?"
"Ready."
"May be very painful," she said. “Very, very painful.”
"What? You didn't mention -" but before the Chief could finish, Smiert flipped the switch. The engineer's body slumped, and his eyes closed.
"Hmm. Or not," said Smiert, disappointed. She studied the computer terminal. "Da. Upload complete."
Jones crossed the room to the comms panel, "OK Mic, send the data package over."
Smiert repeated the process with Daisy and Tongue.
"OK," said Jones. "I'll be on the bridge. Keep monitoring their vitals, let me know if there's any change."
"Of course."
"And Doctor," Jones paused by the door, "make sure nothing happens t
o them. I don't want to have to feed you to whatever that is in there."
Smiert nodded, noticing the unusual hardness of his tone. There was promise in that one, she thought.
11 We have engaged the turd
"Captain, all OK?" Jones's voice sounded over the ship to ship intercom.
"Yes. I think so, er yes," Daisy looked around at her colleagues who paused in their work on the gleaming bridge to nod. "Yes, all OK."
"So, what's it like being in a printed body?"
"It's an odd sensation, sort of like living inside a mushroom."
"Can't say the analogy is working for me."
"Well, imagine what it would be like to have flesh made of mushroom . . . that. The tactile senses are very dull. And breathing is weird. Blokes don't need to breathe but my brain keeps wanting to."
"Right, well keep doing it - you don't want your brain suddenly deciding that breathing is old school and a bit last year. Might make things difficult when you get back to your real body. And don't get comfortable - you've got less than two hours in that body."
"You wouldn't believe this bridge XO. It's all chrome and fitted panels. It's even got carpet on the walls. We should have carpet on the walls. Why don't we have carpet on the walls?"
"Because we're not a management consultancy office in space. It sounds horrible. Any damage?"
"There's a couple of blown panels here and there but less than you'd expect from the state of the hull. And there's a weird sticky liquid on some of the chairs," she dabbed a finger into one of the pools and watched as sticky strands formed between the fingers of her borrowed body's hand. "No crew though. Not even bodies."
"Captain, I've got the logs."
"Sounds nasty," said Jones.
"Shut up XO, Captain out." Daisy walked over to where Tongue was examining a panel. It felt like walking in an inflated body suit.
"Right, can we put it on the view screen? Where the hell is the view screen?" said Daisy.
Nau looked up from under a pile of circuit boards and wires he was happily rummaging through beneath a console. "They have holo-screens, Captain. No fixed position, just wherever’s good. Lovely job."
"I want holo-screens. Why don't we have holo-screens? How do we turn it on?"
"Just ask the computer."
"What?"
"The ship's computer has a voice activated interface," explained Tongue. "Computer, activate holo-screen. Replay Captain's log from entry to the Jagrapax star system."
"View screen activated," said a disembodied, calm, professional voice.
Daisy raised her eyebrows. "I want a voice activated computer interface. Why don't we have a voice activated computer interface?"
"Ah," said Nau, "Well, we do but . . . well we find it a bit of a pain."
A blue oblong fizzed into existence in the air before them revealing the handsome, lined face of a middle-aged man with greying hair.
"Captain's log supplemental, Commodore Commode reporting," said the floating face. "We have arrived for our rendezvous with Space Scrap 17. They have signalled that they are running late but will be with us shortly. Only to be expected of a third-rate crew aboard a fifth-rate ship I suppose."
"Bit rude," said Daisy.
"I hear the XO is a complete moron."
"Oh, bitch. What does he say about the rest of the crew?"
"But the Captain makes this guy look like a genius. She's so incompetent -"
"Computer, skip forward one minute," said Daisy. "Tittle tattle," she said in answer to Tongue's raised eyebrow, "Bit unprofessional if you ask me."
The log resumed playing. "She's a total klutz -"
"Computer skip forward another minute."
"- so stupid she can't -"
"Computer skip forward five minutes."
"- She'll probably exit a wormhole in the centre of a sun -"
"Oh, screw you Commodore!" Daisy's fist swiped ineffectively through the holo-image.
"But their late arrival does at least give us the chance to check an anomaly. Three of the four planets in this system seem to have been pulverized. Our Xeroxian science officer, Doctor Bizarre, is analysing the system for probable cause -" the Commodore paused as an urgent voice broke in from across the bridge. The Commodore looked surprised. "You sure? You're not hallucinating due to one of your weird alien mating cycles again, are you?" The other voice said something angry in reply. "Well, I don't know Doctor, last time you were on heat you said some very strange things about cheese . . . yes, right, fine. Helm set course to investigate." The Commodore's attention returned to the screen, "It seems the fourth planet is now also breaking up and is enveloped in some kind of hard radiation. We're going to investigate. Commodore out."
The screen went blank for a moment. Then the face re-appeared.
"Captain's log supplemental supplemental. By the time we arrived at the fourth planet, there was nothing left but rubble. We spotted something leaving the system and have set course to pursue. Doctor Bizarre has projected its trajectory. He says it is on course for the Ululation system. I would have asked for more details, but I had to have him removed from the bridge after he started humping the chairs."
Daisy's eyes widened as she recalled the sticky substance she had dipped her fingers in. Discretely, she rubbed her hand on her overalls.
"But clearly," the Commodore was saying, "someone is trying to make damn sure these talks don't go ahead. Commodore out."
"Well, that settles it," said Tongue, "Someone wants to sabotage these talks so badly they are prepared to send a planet buster to do it. Captain, we need to get to the Nonsense Sphere and warn them."
Before Daisy could respond, the holo-screen reactivated. The Commodore's face looked tense. "Something just ripped us out of hyperspace. We're in the Cuk system. Another planet has been ripped to pieces." The Commodore looked up in alarm. "What the hell is that?!"
* * *
"What the buggering flaps is that?!" Jones shouted at the view screen, which showed a huge, long, black tube with a gaping, glowing maw at one end like a doorway to hell, if doorways were made of mouths. The tube tapered down to a narrow point at the other end.
"Big," said Steve, “about five miles long.”
"Just entered the system at far range," said Mic.
"And headed in our direction," said Steve.
"Jeebuzz it looks like a nightmare," said Jones.
"Do you think?" said Steve. "I thought it looks more like a . . ."
"Yes?"
"Well, a giant turd."
"What?"
"You know, a turd. A floater."
"Yes exactly, the stuff of nightmares."
"You have nightmares about five-mile-long turds?"
"Well, I bloody well will now!" Jones stood from the Captain's chair and walked over to stand before the view screen. He turned to the Comms station, his visage framed by the gaping maw of the alien death machine. "Mic, contact the Captain. Tell her we have engaged . . . the Turd."
12 The Doomsday Weapon
On the bridge of the Square Jaw, Daisy and Tongue had finished reviewing the logs.
"So, let me get this straight," said Daisy, "This Doomsday Machine rips the Square Jaw out of hyperspace, attacks them and when the Commodore realises all his weapons are useless against it, he and his crew abandon ship for the safety of the nearest planet."
"Yes," said Tongue.
"And he does this after witnessing the Doomsday Machine ripping planets apart."
"Yes."
"And then the Commodore is surprised when the Doomsday Machine proceeds to rip the planet apart."
"Yes."
"Twat."
"Yes. Although, to be fair Xeroxian's are mildly telepathic. If Doctor Bizarre was in a mating cycle, his psychic trauma could have infected the rest of the crew. Captain, we need to return to Space Scrap 17. If Doctor Bizarre was right about that thing's course, it is imperative we get to the Nonsense Sphere and warn the Ululations."
"Captain," said the comput
er, "We are receiving an incoming transmission from Space Scrap 17."
"Let's hear it, Computer," Daisy said, smiling. "I like this, I'm going to activate our Computer’s voice interface when we get back."
"Captain, this is Mic Vol. XO reports that we have engaged a turd."
"What the hell is he talking about Mic?"
"I believe he is referring to the planet killer."
"What?"
"Which has just re-entered the system."
"What?"
"And is on course to intercept us."
"What?"
"Oh. And is now shooting at us."
"WHA -" the lights suddenly dimmed as the bridge shook alarmingly and alarms alarmed alarmingly. A panel exploded in a shower of sparks as the three crewmen in their artificial bodies were thrown to the floor.
"Jeebuzz!" shouted Daisy.
Chief Nau was furiously punching at some buttons on a console.
"Computer, give us an external view," shouted Tongue.
A holo-screen fizzed into existence. It showed the approach of a huge, gaping maw. They watched in stunned silence, braced for a fiery death. But at the last moment the thing veered off, firing its vast energy beam impotently into the blackness of space.
"What is it firing at?" asked Tongue.
"Nothing," said Nau, "Or rather, it thinks it's firing at another Square Jaw. I'm using the holo-projectors to generate an external image. It's chasing a ghost. Should give us time to get back."
"Excellent work Mr Nau," said Tongue.
"Computer open a channel to Space Scrap 17," said Daisy.
"Channel open."
"Mic, Chief Nau has distracted the planet buster. Get us the hell back."
After a moment Smiert's voice came over the intercom. "Captain, ready to transfer. Who first?"
"Tongue, then Nau, then me."
"Transfer activated."
The body that Tongue had occupied stiffened and then collapsed backward, an empty shell once more.
The bridge shook again. Terminals exploded around them in a shower of sparks.
