Black Desert

by Peter Francis

  “Fast, I guess,” said Stiers and turned to Ramirez. “Sound the duty alarm in Gowan’s room.”

  “You really want to do that? You know how grumpy she can be first thing in the morning.”

  “Do it.”

  “Aye, Captain.” Ramirez touched an image and they could hear the muted sounds of the duty alarm.

  Stiers said, “We’ll wait for the go signal. I am assuming they will despatch about half the fleet in our sector with the others in reserve.”

  “Maybe they won’t need us,” said Ramirez and there was hope in his voice.

  “What’s happening?” asked a female voice. The three men turned with only Ogden, after a moment, turning away again politely. Gowan stood in the doorway wearing nothing but tiny panties, her chest forward in defiance. Stiers studied her as if he was a student of anatomy but Ramirez felt his lower jaw descending and hanging while his eyes grew wider. Gowan did not possess full and heavy breasts like the Hispanic girls he was used to. Her bosoms were modest in size but pure splendour in form, with nipples that formed a perfect tip to their conical shape. They challenged gravity which, he thought, may be down to the low gravity on board the craft. She saw him looking and said, “Are you just going to stare at my tits or will somebody tell me why the duty alarm was sounded?”

  Stiers looked back at his screen while Ramirez wondered if his tight suit was betraying his interest. He closed his legs and turned his body away but his eyes did not move.

  “Well?” pressed Gowan.

  “It appears we may shortly encounter the aliens,” said Ogden. “The Captain thought you may be interested.”

  “I was in bed.”

  This brought to the mind of Ramirez an image of his co-worker semi-naked on the sheet with her long legs akimbo and her delicious breasts pouting at him in invitation. He tried to move his body out of sight of its treason.

  Stiers said, “Go back there if we disturbed your sleep. I just thought you may care to see the aliens before they destroy us all.”

  “I don’t mind dying in my sleep,” said Gowan. “But I’ll get my uniform on.” She turned away and sprinted to her quarters.

  Stiers said to Ogden, “Better bring all the nuclear generators on line. We don’t want to be surprised by facing them with empty chambers.” Ogden nodded and turned his attention to his console. After a few minutes there was a gentle hum as more power became available. “Charge weapons,” said Stiers. “Ramirez, sit on the sensors until Gowan returns then move to communications and weapons.”

  Ramirez had to locate and close his lower jaw before he could respond. “Aye, Captain.”

  Gowan returned and Stiers pointed her to the console where Ramirez sat, still partly stupefied. She nudged him out of the seat and he stood, bent over to hide his embarrassment, and crept painfully to the communications screens.

  “Is your back giving you trouble, Ramirez?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “Oh, it’s your front, is it?” Ramirez declined to answer. “Maybe you should pop that thing out and give it some air,” said Gowan.

  “Focus on the job ahead,” said Stiers. “We’re all about to be killed so let’s get it right, shall we?”

  “How do you get right getting killed?” asked Ramirez.

  “Stiff upper lip,” said Ogden.

  “Or in Ramirez’s case, stiff lower body parts,” quipped Gowan.

  Ramirez continued, “Aren’t we supposed to raise a hand and say something like ‘Hail Caesar, those about to die salute you’?”

  “It’s not lions we’re fighting,” said Gowan.

  “How do you know? Has anybody actually seen them yet?”

  “Long range scanners have probed their craft and sent back information,” said Stiers. “Before the probes were destroyed, that is.”

  “So what are they supposed to look like?”

  “Pretty ugly, pard,” said Stiers.

  “That’s not an answer,” said Ramirez. “Ogden is pretty ugly. Do you have any more to go on? How many heads do they have?”

  “Just one,” said Stiers. “They have lots of arms though – or maybe they are legs. Nobody has worked it out yet.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Ogden. “Be assured you will not be meeting any. One bright flash of light and you will be discussing this with your ancestors.”

  “Thanks for trying, Paunchy, but you’re not really cheering me up.”

  “Anything from fleet?” asked the Captain.

  “Oh that’s nice – that’s real nice,” wailed Ramirez after studying the messages. “The wing commander of this quadrant has selected us to be the vanguard. Put on your mittens and don’t have kittens; we’re going in first.”

  “At least we won’t have to watch all our friends die first,” said Ogden.

  “If it’s coming to pass, kiss my ass,” said Ramirez. “Hey, Gowan, do we have time for a quick shag before the fireworks?”

  “I doubt there would be any fireworks with you,” she said.

  “You’re one tough lady but let me tell you, seeing as how we are about to die, you have one fine pair of tits. Are they real or have you had them reshaped?”

  “They’re real,” she said. “What about your face – and did you ask for your money back?”

  “Keep focussed, children. There’ll be no time for play later.”

  “Sure,” said Ramirez then turned to Gowan again. “How does it make you feel to know I’ll have your breasts on my mind when we die?”

  “How does it make you feel to know I won’t be thinking about you at all?” she said.

  Ogden said, “All weapons charged to 75 per cent, Captain. Four minutes to go till we’re fully ready.”

  “Let’s get ready to go in,” said Stiers. “Let’s at least try to make them buy the farm…”

  “…before they sell it to us,” mumbled Ramirez.

  “Tell Fleet what we are doing,” said Stiers, “then let’s go ahead and do it. Send the message, Ramirez then shift to the secondary weapons console.”

  “Well if the sledgehammer doesn’t work, I doubt the peashooter will do any good,” said Ramirez but did as he was told.

  “Weapons at 85 per cent,” said Ogden.

  “Couldn’t we have got Robbie the Robot instead of Ogden?” asked Ramirez. “At least he would have taken up less space.”

  “Stay focussed, people,” said Stiers and reached for the cowboy hat that rested on his console like an uneaten dessert. He mounted it on his head firmly and tilted it back as if stopping his horse to talk to a lady in Dodge City.

  “Stay your stays, there’s sun in the haze,” said Ramirez. “Another missive from those that stay at home and also serve.”

  “Give me the gist,” said the Captain.

  “Here’s the gist – a parting in the mist,” said Ramirez. “We’re going in alone for the first probe. “We are to play – I quote – ‘friendly’ music so the aliens can pick up our non-hostile intentions.”

  “Let us hope they overlook our charged weapons,” said Ogden. “Just in case they are deaf.”

  “What in the name of Joseph is friendly music?” asked Stiers. “And why are we being sent in alone?”

  “Friendly music, I imagine, is quiet orchestral with nobody bashing drums and synthesising screams,” suggested Ogden.

  “What are we trying to do – send them to sleep or get them dancing?” said Stiers.

  “I suggest we ignore that order,” said Gowan. “By the time we agree on what to play we’ll be long incinerated.”

  “Could I just play with your tits before they turn to charcoal?” asked Ramirez.

  “No. Keep your mind on your job.”

  “Couldn’t you at least have popped them out at the start of this mission – just so I would have had more time to enjoy thinking about them.”

  “Weapons fully charged,” said Ogden. “I really don’t like the idea of going in alone.”

  “Don’t sweat it, Paunchy. We’ll go in with you,” said Ra
mirez. “Anyway, more on our orders. We are to try to record everything about them and their ship in case…” he chuckled bitterly “…in case we make it back. We are to transmit simultaneously.”

  “That will be in case we don’t make it back,” said Gowan.

  “As we won’t,” said the Captain.

  “This has been a really cheerful experience, guys,” said Ramirez. “All this talk about dying may be wrong. They may welcome dialogue with us.”

  “You have to be able to speak first,” said Gowan. “Even I can’t understand you most of the time.”

  “I really try to like you, Gowan, but you make it hard for me.”

  “Is there a classic double entendre coming?” she asked.

  “You should be grateful. I prefer Hispanic girls. They aren’t skinny urchins with tiny titties.”

  “I agree with that,” muttered Stiers. “All Hispanic girls have big breasts and they are all fertile from the age of about eleven.”

  “What about you, Captain Cowboy?” asked Ramirez. “Do you have any family? You don’t talk much about them.”

  “I have a wife and three children,” said Stiers. “I have two boys and a girl and a small ranch – more a smallholding – in Texas in the north. I used to fly fighters for the US Air Force before joining this outfit. If it’s any interest, I’ve made my peace with God and am ready to die for my planet.”

  “Well don’t be too eager,” said Ramirez. “If there is a chance of getting out of this alive, I would like to take it.”

  “We could turn and flee,” suggested Ogden.

  As they worked at their controls they each gave this some thought. Finally Gowan said, “No we couldn’t.” The others nodded in silent agreement.

  “Let’s try to keep the peace between now and dying,” said the Captain. “We can argue in Heaven or Hell.”

  “At least we won’t be worrying about all those diseases that strike the old,” said Ogden.

  “We won’t,” said Ramirez, fiddling with his panels. “You probably already have most of them.”

  “I went through the same fitness tests you did,” snapped Ogden.

  “Lucky for you they didn’t have a ‘slip through a narrow doorway’ test. They’d still be trying to cut you out.”

  “I’d call you ignorant, but you are not. You use humour as a weapon, presumably to hide some deep down insecurities. I wonder if you are really the lover you think you are.”

  “You’ll never find out, Ogden,” said Ramirez. “I plunge my spear into ewes, not rams.”

  “That tells me everything,” said Gowan. Something attracted her attention which she switched to her screens. “There is something big out there, Captain. I just don’t know what it is.”

  “Okay, people. We’ll start moving towards it at half speed until we know more. Then we’ll step up the pace. Ready on weapons and manoeuvring. Let’s go beard the lion.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain,” said Ogden and the other two murmured.

  The almost silent craft broke orbit and followed an invisible line towards where the sensors indicated a space anomaly assumed to be the alien ship. Their vessel was a modest one, once all cylinders were firing and using a straight through exhaust, capable of a top speed of one ten thousandth the speed of light – or about 65,000 miles per hour. They were roughly halfway between Earth and the orbit of the moon so it would take two more hours just to pass that point. The alien ship was believed to be another two hours outside the moon orbit at their speed but nobody had been able to assess just how fast it could travel. At that time all the indications were of a vessel cruising slowly with apparent curiosity at this solar system. One commander had described the unknown force as ‘window shopping’.

  Other more depressed souls suggested the aliens were travelling slowly so as not to intercept the moon but pass it with plenty of room to spare – as was now the case. To cross space, this pessimistic person suggested, it should be capable of warp speeds several times that of light. Brainiacs calculated that at higher end warp speeds they would pass through any intercept ships and satellites without ever knowing they were there. “You can shoot a ball of play dough through wood at high enough velocities,” one said.

  Stiers, who possessed many old weapons, tried this on his ranch using a pump-up air rifle and a pellet of wax. The wax passed through nine pieces of card before flattening itself on the wall of his barn. He had been impressed and could understand why air weapons had been used in conquering the first white men’s trip across America.

  His own ship was armed with .50 calibre machine guns for use within an atmosphere and disrupter weapons for space. These fired a plasma beam which interfered with the molecular structure of anything they were lucky enough to hit. The downside was the huge amount of energy they consumed but the upside was they moleculised all they hit and left little debris to clean up. Disrupter weapons, by common consensus, were illegal within Earth’s atmosphere which was considered to be too fragile to mess about with. Even firing them now would be illegal until authorisation by the Fleet Commander.

  Stiers now sought this. He said to Ramirez, “Call Fleet and get an authorisation code for the disrupters.”

  “Clutch your crotch, I’m moving up a notch,” said Ramirez and used his holos to access the authority to unlock the weapons. “Not till we’re past the moon’s orbit,” he said, “then we’re good to go. Fire at will or at the aliens if they shoot first.”

  Keeping it all in check till the orbit line was past was expected and Stiers merely nodded. He knew that behind them the remainder of the fleet in this sector would be moving behind them closer to that invisible line that signalled the passage of Earth’s largest natural satellite. At least, he hoped they would be. There is a subtle military difference between being the vanguard and the sacrificial lamb.

  “Stay in your shoes, I’ve got more news,” said the bard, Ramirez.

  “Is it good?” asked Ogden with a trace of hope in his voice.

  “No,” said Ramirez, acknowledging the message. “It’s all bad. We’re going along and everybody stays here until they see what happens to us. Man, that’s really shitty.”

  “Good tactics,” acknowledged Stiers. “We need to see what they can do. Shame it had to be us.”

  “What is it the Red Indians say?” said Ramirez. “Today is a good day to die.”

  “That’s a misquote,” Gowan told him. “It’s from two fat squaws talking and one says ‘today is a good day to diet’.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want one last smoke of the old pink pole, Gowan?” asked Ramirez and pointed to his crotch.

  “If it was a big Havana cigar and not a tiny cigarette…” she replied. “I’ll tell you what – pop it out so I can at least die laughing.”

  “Any time you guys care to fill me in on the situation out there, feel free,” said the Captain.

  “No problem,” said Ramirez. “We’re going to die alone out there in space very soon.”

  “I concur,” said Ogden. “With our weapons we may be able to leave a couple of scratches in their paintwork before we are vaporised.”

  “Are all Englishmen as cheerful as you, Ogden?” asked Gowan.

  “It would seem we are just as full of frolics and humour as Hispanics,” he sniffed. “Tell me, Miss Junette, are you looking forward to your last few moments alive?”

  “Cripes,” she said. “We could walk across the road and be hit by a bus.”

  “That is unlikely,” said Ogden. “I do not believe there are any roads out here – and certainly no buses.” He paused. “However, I confess it will be a great and sorrowful shame to see the death of somebody as bright and lovely as you.”

  “Are you hitting on her, Ogden?” asked Ramirez.

  “No. I would just like to see Miss Junette back home, and you and Stiers with your beloved families. War should be for old farts like me who won’t be missed.”

  “I hate to agree,” said Ramirez. “Can’t one of us fall sick or something – a
ppendicitis would do – so they have to recall us?”

  “I do have a slight tickle in my throat,” said Stiers. “I’ve been putting it down to nerves but maybe it’s full blown influenza.”

  “You must be sick,” said Ramirez. “You don’t have any nerves.”

  “So,” said the Captain. “No excuses to go home then. Heck, it may be the choice of die here today or die at home tomorrow.”

  Gowan had been monitoring her holos and suddenly yelled, “There’s something ahead, boys. It’s a massive anomaly but I can get no visual on the thing.”

  “It’s the cavalry,” suggested Ramirez.

  “We are the cavalry,” said Stiers. “What’s it doing, Gowan?”

  “If I’m not reading this wrong – and I’m not – it’s coming straight towards us hell for leather.”

  “Hell for leather,” said Ogden. “That is fast.”

  “We’re right in its path,” said Gowan.

  “Can we move away in time,” asked the Captain, studying his own screens.

  “I wouldn’t know what course to suggest other than reverse. This thing is huge.”

  “And coming hell for leather,” said Ogden as if savouring the phrase.

  “Hang on a tad, the world’s going bad,” said Ramirez. “If you’re looking for options, Captain, I’d suggest running away. Oh, crap…” he said, studying his communications. “Our orders are to attack. Well those are pretty stupid orders.”

  “On our own?” queried the usually unflustered Ogden.

  “Fleet is playing a wait and see game.”

  Stiers tilted his hat back a smidgen. “Just how big is this thing?” he asked Gowan.

  Ramirez checked his own screens as Gowan did some calculations. “It’s huge,” she said.

  “Can you be more precise?” asked the Captain.

  “Frigging huge,” said Ramirez.

  Gowan did some more calculations. “At this close range its beyond our sensors to measure exactly. My best guess is about fifty kilometres across.”

  “And we’re what – sixty feet?”

  “Eighteen metres,” she confirmed.

  “Well that ain’t fair,” wailed Ramirez. “That ain’t fair at all.”

  “It seems they have a slight edge,” admitted Stiers.