“The supply of comfortable and affordable road vehicles with a minimum of aesthetic styling, I believe.”
“Not Nishant. I meant what does the acronym stand for?”
“Ah, ‘Assault Without Mercy And Generation Of Devastation’,” said Pete proudly. “I liked it, but the general opinion was that the name sounded a little too confrontational. We put it to a committee of specialists in political correctness to find a user-friendly alternative, and they came up with Bereavement Notable.”
“That should make the STOP people more comfortable as we spy on them. You don’t think they might spot a new moon in the sky?”
“Vac suggested waiting until daytime.”
“And is this Bereavement Notable armed?”
“I’m afraid there might be one or two ordnances built in. I tried to stop them of course, but once the Skagans get their teeth into a project, things tend to escalate.”
“They have built it very quickly. We haven’t been away that long.”
“They used Japanese techniques, where they can rebuild a whole motorway in a week after a tsunami and nuclear meltdown, rather than the more conventional ‘sit around for months behind traffic cones and speed restrictions and do fuck all’ method of British Road-menders.”
“You would still need a lot of person-power to build something that size,” said Tom.
“We have it. The doku-fertilised propagation beds have churned out extra Skagans at an amazing rate. Those who were planted months ago have all been born now, so the whole allotment has been ploughed up to make space. The recent outbreak of ‘Skagan Snuffles’ has only accelerated the process.”
“Oh dear,” said Tom. “Can we come and have a look? Skagans with a death star is something I don’t like to contemplate.”
“Bereavement Notable,” said Pete. “I don’t think they intend to use it to attack anything. That’s what they told me, anyway.”
“We’re coming over.”
“No need, we’ve already connected with you and are pulling you into our docking area.”
“You have ‘tractor beams’?”
“No, bits of rope with magnets on them, but they work perfectly adequately, and are power efficient—rated ‘A’.”
“Good to see you, Sah.”
“Vac. You look cheerful. Was this Bereavement Notable your idea?”
“Of course, Sah. Young Pete provided the plans; we only scaled them up and added the odd weapon... defence only, you realise, Sah.”
“Of course. I’m sure it will provide the extra protection that Skagos needs. Why do you need defences, by the way?”
“Mined by freebooters before, Sah. Consortium of Planets quarried the place, and was only after extreme terraforming and lots of sex did we manage to return to former glory. Not going to happen again.”
“No, probably not. Will you show me around then?”
”Sah is fit?”
“Fit enough.”
“Good, Sah will need to jog around. It is a long way between features. This way, Sah.”
Tom and the Magus followed their host off the huge docking area. There were a few smaller Skagan ships parked inside, but most of the space was empty. Tom motioned towards them.
“Where is the rest of the fleet we were building?”
“All gone, Sah. Had a bit of a problem with some spy-drones. Took our ships out before we realised they were using the doku-shunt. Kitting these out with proper shields.”
“They don’t look very aerodynamic, with those great snowplough things in front.”
“No, not good for the atmosphere and general beauty, Sah, but great in space. Deflect all sorts of debris most effectively, Sah. My idea.”
“A good one, Vac.”
“Thank you, Sah. Now, in centre of ship, control room, or ‘battle bridge’ as we call it.”
Vac pulled open a solid door and stood back. Tom put his head through. The room was tiny and claustrophobic. There was one chair, a curved monitor screen around the sides of the room and a joystick with a button on the top, connected by a wire into the seat.
“Is this it?”
“Compact controls, Sah.”
“Can you make a bigger control room, with chairs for the crew, and a big screen, and possibly seatbelts for when we get attacked, so that everyone doesn’t roll about and hit their heads, thus allowing minor characters to have their moment of glory?”
“Will do, Sah, and add smoke and spark-emitting diodes in all consoles, Sah?”
“Leave those out please. It would be nice to see what we are doing while we are being attacked.”
“Right away, Sah. I’ll rewrite all the schematics, Sah.”
“Good, so how does this thing work?”
“You have to go for the training course, Sah, before you can be a proficient officer. I’ll show you the teaching facilities.”
The training room comprised a large, bright area with a slate blackboard and a number of tables, each with a joystick and a chalkboard in front.
“Can I try?” Tom sat at one of the desks.
“I will set it up for you, Sah.” Vac drew a cross in chalk on the board in front of the Tom’s joystick. “Ready now.”
“I push the stick forward to go forward?”
“You’re a natural, Sah.”
As he did so, Tom noticed that the stick operated an extending concertina arm. “Like this?”
“Amazing. Try the weapons now, Sah,” said Vac with admiration in his voice.
Tom positioned the end of the arm over Vac’s cross and pressed the button. The arm jabbed down, and made a small cloud of chalk dust.
“Got it in one, Sah. You are amazing, even beyond my expectations, Sah. It will be an honour to follow you into battle.”
“Battle, Vac?”
“No, Sah. Of course I meant, space. The doku-mat drive units are all in place. All we are short of now are the activation whiskers, and we can leave the planet.”
“What else have you got to show me?”
“Nothing else, Sah. Rest of the ship is drive units, crew’s quarters, shower rooms and recreation deck.”
“That amounts to about one percent of the ship. What’s the rest of it? Don't tell me. I can guess; weapons?”
“Not all, Sah. Some of it is the titanium-steel shielding, and the shielding rock layer, and the rest is the magazine.”
“I didn’t think you people needed any visual stimulation.”
“No, that’s the other magazine, Sah, where we store the copies of Big Jazzers. The main magazine holds all our missiles.”
“You are using missiles with the shunt? All you need is a pile of rubble to eject.”
“Thought it would make a bigger bang, Sah, if we used the shunt to throw high-explosive too.”
“You’re not supposed to be using this technology to kill things.”
Vac looked guilty. “In case we are attacked, I mean, Sah.”
“One moment, did you say something about the activation whiskers? Why do you need the drive units operational if the Notable is for defence purposes only?”
“Thought we’d take a trial trip to see if those people will give me my withheld tax back.”
“Remind me.”
“I wrote a book, Sah. It was about the history of the Skagan race.”
“I am starting to remember. If I recall, it was mostly pictures. How many did you sell?”
“To my knowledge, three, Sah. One to me for my bookshelf, and another to Tanda, who had drawn most of the pictures anyway. And very good they are, Sah, depicting many of our secret rituals.”
“I have a copy,” said the Magus. “It’s very... interesting. I’m sure it will be of great help when I get back to see Rannie.”
“I didn’t know, sah. Thank you for that.”
“And I only get a lower case ‘s’ for my ‘sah’?”
“My lack of respect for you, sah,” said Vac bluntly. “Mx. $mith (sic) always gets an
upper case. He’s a great guy.”
The Magus nodded. “So he tells us, and Rannie says your book has become a best-seller through her outlets. How much royalty have you been awarded so far?”
“Nothing at all, sah.”
“Scandalous. Two-Dan, I think we should allow Vac to use the Notable to reclaim his tax,” said the Magus, trying to get out of the painful arm-lock Vac had put on him.
“I also think we should, Sah,” said Vac.
“As long as that is all you do,” said Tom. “No destroying of planets.”
“Of course not, Sah. Never entered my mind.”
“And I’m thinking especially of the Tax people. If you destroy them, you will never get your refund.”
“Good point, Sah. Perhaps we will ask nicely instead.”
There was a dull boom from somewhere outside the ship.
“We are under attack, Sah. Come and see how we defend ourselves.”
The control room now had one of the Skagan men at the console. He was moving the joystick, and a cursor travelled across the screen over to where the display picked out a number of small ships. He moved the cursor over one and pressed the button on the joystick. The ship vanished.
“More of those STOP drones,” said Tom. “How the Phoist do they keep finding us? Do we have a traitor in our midst?”
“Investigate later,” said the Magus.
“No problem,” said Vac. “Glowplug here is one of our best operatives. Watch as he deals with the threat.”
The battle was over quickly, and the Notable scooped up all the bigger pieces of debris and stored them in the magazine.
“That’s the beauty of the ‘shunt’,” said Pete. “You are never short of material to make the missiles. The sharper the better. Originally, we had to destroy small asteroids and collect the pieces, but we are being attacked more regularly now, so there is always enough wreckage.”
“And the Shunt works by kicking those pieces out. Much faster than lasers, which are limited to the speed of light.”
“Nice one, Vac,” said Pete. “You’ve grasped the concept at last.”
“I had a good teacher,” said Vac.
Tom had noticed that the Magus had disappeared during the attack, but was surprised when he reappeared, breathless.
“I know how they do it,” said the little man.
“You are supposed to be a detective,” said Tom. “Did you use your deductive powers to work out how?”
“Sort of,” said the Magus. “I went back to the Fortune, you know, to make sure the engines were started, ready for if we had to make a quick getaway...”
“I know. You always have our safety in mind.”
The Magus shot him an irritated glance. “And I noticed the ship was rocking. I could hear noises.”
“And you traced the noises?”
“I did, and guess what I found.”
“I don’t know... a herd of doku in the hold again?”
“How did you know?” The Magus regarded him suspiciously. “Yes, a herd of doku. Did you put them there?”
“I noticed them during the flight here. What did you want to load them back in for?”
“I didn’t. In fact, I expressly checked the hold was empty when we left.” The Magus removed his fedora and scratched his sweaty head.
“Yet, there they are, however they managed it, but what has that got to do with STOP?”
“They are wearing radio transmitters.”
“What?”
“Each of them has a large transmitter on its head. I don’t recognise the specific doku, but they seem to know me.”
“How would you recognise an individual animal? Is there something going on I don’t know about?”
“It’s the coat. These are a different colour, meaning that they have been bred somewhere other than Glenforbis.”
“Remove the trackers, take the animals down to Skagos and unload them for the fertiliser project. We have a mission... after we get our crew back and you’ve scrubbed the loading bay.”
“But why do I have to clean it?” The Magus moaned.
“They are your doku, aren’t they?”
Intercept
In which Tom goes in for animal rescue
G
roat disturbed people dozing, and other activities best left unmentioned. “Freighter on the starboard bow.”
The Fortune was back on course for the hexacat planet, and Tom had re-enlisted Groat and Spigot as crew, so that he and the Magus could have time off for drinking.
“I thought I’d made my position clear about these misplaced nautical references,” said Tom, putting his ale down on the Disarray table. “We are not floating around on the Briny or sailing the seven seasons (on Glenforbis, all of them miserable).”
“No, I mean I’ve seen a freighter, the STOP ship, On the Starboard Bow. It seems to be heading towards us.
“Any idea where it’s been?”
“It is on a direct course away from the planet of the hexacats.”
“We really should think of a name for it. Magus, you lived there. Any ideas?”
“I used to call it ‘Home’,” said the Magus, “or ‘Here’ or occasionally ‘Never Heard of It’, if the tax man turned up.”
“I’ll get the Nishant creativity team on it when I can afford to pay someone,” said Tom. “Now about that craft?”
“I’m going to hail it.” Groat’s finger hovered over the ‘Fire’ button.
“When you say ‘hail’, you don’t mean a ‘hail of cannon-fire’ by any chance? Step away from the console. Move your hand away from the shunt controls...”
“I was only going to do coffee,” said Groat guiltily. “You know how badly arranged the switches are.”
“I’ll have mine white without milk, thank you. Now let me do the talking.”
Tom found the communications button, between ‘Toast Control’ and a strange-looking dial marked ‘Existentialism’ and graduated from zero to one hundred percent. He operated the switch carefully.
“Hello, freighter, On the Starboard Bow, can you hear me?”
The signal appeared to connect, but all he heard was static, with what sounded like giggles in the background.
“Can you hear me over there?”
Still no reply.
“Please maintain your course and prepare to be boarded. We don’t mean any harm, but would like a chat, if that is convenient.” He switched off the communicator. “Are we getting through?”
“Oh, yes,” said Groat. “They’ve heard us. I expect they also know of our exploits and are trying to pretend they aren’t there. Sounds like we need to make a show of force.”
“I’m running up the pirate flag,” said the Magus.
“I’ll resist the temptation to make a lewd comment about that,” said Tom. “Groat, do you think you could fire a warning shot across the front of them to show them we mean business.”
“I thought we were doing ‘piracy’, not ‘business’.”
“It’s all a matter of perspective,” said Tom, “but we may be able to negotiate.”
“I’m firing the doku-shunt.”
“I can see that. You don’t have to tell me. Oh, that was not what I wanted. You’ve blown the front bit off the freighter. I told you to only fire a warning shot.”
“I did. Perhaps I was a little close.”
“Perhaps. But it must have got their attention. Are they changing course or slowing down?”
“I don’t think so. Shall I fire another again?”
“I’ll ask.” Tom flicked the switch again and hurt his fingernail. “Attention STOP freighter. Did you hear us? Will you please stop, and arrange for guests?”
Again there was no reply.
Tom sighed. “I suppose I did ask. Could you prepare a boarding party?”
“What, putting planks down outside the house so the rats have got somewhere to hide, and wearing funny hats and poppers
and jelly and ice-cream? Do you think they will be in festive mood after having their vehicle damaged?”
“That’s not what I mean, and well you know it.”
Groat grinned and spoke into the microphone. “STOP ship, we are coming across. Do not attempt to resist, but if you do, we will be delighted to respond. You will be making an old Skagan very happy.”
There was still no reply.
“Go on then,” said Tom. “No killing. Set your blasters to ‘stun’.”
“They don’t do ‘stun’, said Groat. “I got Pete to regulate them. Now we only have ‘kill’, ‘extra kill’ and ‘obliterate’.”
“No ‘stun’ setting?”
“How can you do ‘stun’ with a device that fires small pieces of rubble at speeds faster than light? You can only vary the spread.”
“Be very careful, then.”
“I’ll try. Spigot, are you there?”
“Bugger off, I’m trying to match the speed of that freighter. It’s not easy going so slowly. Take the Magus instead.”
“I’m busy with the flag,” said the Magus. “Can’t you take Two-Dan? He’s supposed to be the leader, and the leader always goes on dangerous missions, to set a good example to the cowardly crew, apart from the ones that go with him as cannon-fodder. Count me out.”
“I suppose he’s right,” said Tom. “I’m more your management type of guy, though. I prefer to leave the practical stuff to trained warriors.”
“You’ll soon get the hang,” said Groat. “I’ll show you the ropes.”
“Do we need ropes?”
“We have to fasten the ships together somehow, and we might need to tie up the crew.”
“And still no reply from that ship. Why do I get a bad feeling in my stomach about this?”
“Probably because we are getting no reply from a deserted vessel, that seems to be running on a fixed course with all the lights on, and has every appearance of being a haunted hulk.”
“Or it could be I forgot to have breakfast,” said Tom.
Spigot managed to pull alongside the freighter, and Groat fired the grappling hooks to hold the two ships together. The transit tube connected and was pressurised.
“Are you listening, freighter, On the Starboard Bow? Whatever, prepare to be boarded,” said Groat through the communicator.
The Fourteenth Adjustment Page 15