by Karl Beecher
“Destroy it?” exclaimed Tyresa. “Why?”
“This moon is inhabited, Turtle,” the man replied. “We have several bases here.”
Tyresa looked at the tactical view. “But the vessel’s projected path puts the impact site more than a hundred kilometres away from any bases.”
“We’re not going to take the chance.”
“Just hang on,” she pleaded. “Let me try and alter the ship’s course.”
Another pause. “It’s your choice,” the voice came back. “But if that ship is still heading for us when it enters our weapons range, we’re taking it out whether you’re in the way or not.”
That was probably the best offer she was going to get and she had no time to negotiate.
“Deal!” she cried out.
There wasn’t a second to lose. Tyresa slapped the engines into emergency boost, pushing them beyond their rated safety limits. Ade would certainly bitch about that later, but he kept helpfully quiet for now. The Turtle surged forward, rapidly closing the remaining gap.
The rusty-grey orb of Procya’s moon grew ominously large in the viewport.
The distance between the two vessels shrank to just a few kilometres. The Mosquito’s course and speed hadn’t altered, and there was no frozen corpse of Colin bouncing off the window. It looked like Tiffin was unable or unwilling to follow through on his threats.
Less than a kilometre to go. Tyresa killed the boost, creeping the ship carefully forward, and manoeuvred her craft beneath the Erd vessel. Once she’d lined up the two ships, she matched speed exactly. Relative to each other, they were now stationary.
In absolute terms, of course, they were still both hurtling towards Mera.
She raised her shields. Then she eased back on the pitch control, inching the Turtle up towards the underside of the Erd ship.
Her plan was to make the two forcefields meet and then use the Turtle’s thrust to nudge Tiffin’s vessel onto a course away from Mera. It was a tricky plan fraught with danger. If either ship’s shields failed suddenly, a collision would be inevitable.
In the viewport, Mera now looked really big and really close.
A shudder. The two protective blisters of energy made contact and shone with fizzing green light. Tyresa increased ventral thrust as much as she dared. The Turtle strained and pushed against Tiffin’s ship.
On the tactical view, the projected path of the Mosquito began to move, but it still ended at the moon’s surface. This was the right idea, but there wasn’t enough thrust. With a shaky hand, Tyresa increased thrust. Shield strength began to weaken under the strain.
The moon, merely hundreds of kilometres away, was now too big to fit completely in the viewport. As they came nearer to it, the gravitational forces grew, pulling on the ships and accelerating them.
“Time’s up, Turtle,” came the voice of Mera Defence again. “Move out of there, we’re firing now.”
“Just give me few more seconds, Mera,” yelled Tyresa. “Target is nearly out of range.”
“Negative, Turtle. Vacate the area now.”
There was nothing else for it. Do or die. Tyresa closed her eyes and pushed the thrust control to maximum.
The two sets of shields buzzed and crackled. Megajoules of force energy collided in showers of green sparks.
A warning signal rang out. Shields were becoming dangerously weak.
“Ma’am, Mera Defence just launched a missile.”
Tyresa watched the ships’ projected path move on the tactical view.
It edged upwards.
Bit by bit.
The end of the path scraped along the moon’s surface.
Towards its horizon.
Almost there.
Almost there…
… yes!
“We did it!” yelled Tyresa, watching the parabola creep over Mera’s horizon and off into deep space. She began to kill the thrusters.
BOOM!
A deafening shockwave rippled through the ship. Tyresa was almost thrown from her chair.
“What happened?” she cried, pulling herself upright again.
“The Erd ship’s shields collapsed, ma’am,” explained Ade. “The vessel collided with our shields.”
Tyresa looked at him. “Their shields are down? Tractor beam! Grab ’em quick!”
Ade lined up the tractor beam projector and fired. The white beam shot from the Turtle and enveloped the aft of Tiffin’s ship, seizing it. The two vessels were now coupled via a stream of gravitons.
Tyresa checked the sensor readings to see the condition of Tiffin’s ship. Nothing serious beyond some superficial hull damage. Thankfully, she’d killed most of the thrust before collision, otherwise, it could have been a lot worse.
But there was no time for sighs of relief. On an adjacent screen, Tyresa saw the missile incoming at an incredible speed.
“Ade,” she said. “That missile. Can we outrun it?”
“Not while we are tractoring the Erd ship, ma’am. In any case, we are not the missile’s target; Tiffin’s ship is. We could outrun it by untethering ourselves and—”
“— and leaving Tiffin’s ship behind? Forget it.”
“In which case, we will be consumed in a nuclear fireball along with the Erd ship in around seventy seconds, ma’am.”
She reopened the channel with Mera Defence.
“Mera Defence here,” came the crackling voice.
“Sixty seconds, ma’am,” came Ade’s polite reminder of impending nuclear annihilation.
“Stand your defences down,” she demanded. “The collision has been averted.”
“We confirm that, Turtle,” came the reply. “Defences have been stood down. However, a missile has already been launched and is en route.”
“I know that,” said Tyresa. “So call it off.”
“Call it off?” replied the voice. “It’s a thermonuclear missile, not a dog.”
“Fifty seconds.”
“You can redirect it, can’t you?”
“No, it has its own independent guidance system.”
“Well, it must have a self-destruct you can remotely activate, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then activate it.”
The voice sounded bewildered. “You want me to self-destruct the missile?”
“Yes!”
“Forty seconds.”
“Do you know how much one of those missiles costs? And you want me to just blow it up?”
“Oh, for shit’s sake!” bellowed Tyresa. “It’s going to explode one way or another, what does it matter?”
“It might not mean much to you, missie, but to us it’s—”
Just then, a third voice came onto the speakers. It was a youthful, frightened voice. “Hello? Are you receiving me?”
“Thirty seconds.”
“Who’s this?”
“My name is Spudge.”
“Spudge?” cried Tyresa. “Are you all right? Can you control the ship—”
“No time for that,” Spudge replied. “Mera Defence, can you hear me?”
“We hear you.”
“Now, listen up,” began Spudge. “The Turtle’s commander is Doctor Tyresa Jak, an important diplomat from the Alliance of Free Worlds. If you destroy this ship, an official complaint will be lodged with your superiors.”
“Twenty seconds.”
“A complaint?” The voice of Mera Defence sounded suddenly worried. “Oh, come now, there’s no need for—”
“And after that,” continued Spudge, “an official inquiry by the Abraman Planetary Defences Force.”
“An inquiry? Hold on a minute…” He spoke with someone in the room with him. The words were indistinct, but the two people were clearly upset and squabbling. The voice returned, sounding sullen. “We’re only trying to do our jobs, you know.”
“Ten seconds.”
More arguing on the other end.
“Five seconds.”
“Fine. Initiating self-destruct now.”
> Out in space, an explosive charge in the structure of the incoming missile blew up. The projectile broke harmlessly into a dozen different pieces, which scattered in all directions.
“Happy now?” snapped Mera Defence. “You’ve no idea the amount of paperwork you’ve just created for me. Mera Defence out!”
The channel closed.
“That was incredible, Spudge,” said Tyresa.
“Not really,” he replied. “You just have to be familiar with the bureaucracy around here. There’s nothing planetary defences fear more than accountability.”
“Ade,” said Tyresa. “Bring the ships to a full stop.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“After that, grab yourself a weapon and prepare for boarding.”
Spudge interrupted. “There’s no need for weapons. Everything’s under control here.”
“Under control?” replied Tyresa. “What do you mean? Where’s Tiffin?”
“He’s… um… maybe it’s better if I show you.”
An image appeared on her console of the passageway on Tiffin’s ship. It looked much the same as before, except that Tiffin was lying on the floor snoring loudly between a pair of airtight doors.
Tyresa looked closer. “What the…? What did you…? I mean, how did you…? Never mind. What about Colin?”
“See for yourself,” replied Spudge.
A second video appeared, this time from inside an airlock. Tyresa saw Colin lying semi-conscious on the floor beside an overturned wheelchair, babbling to himself. She turned up the volume to hear what he was saying.
“Oh, Mildred,” purred the delirious Colin. “That was spectacular.”
43
Beep.
What was that?
Hmm.
Nothing.
Beep.
There it was again, thought Colin. I wonder what it is.
Beep.
Colin really wanted to know what that noise was, but he couldn’t see anything. With great mental effort, he determined that was because his eyes were shut.
He eased open his eyelids. Bright white light flooded in, and pain filled his head.
Beep.
“Gah,” he rasped. “That was a mistake. And what is that beeping?”
“That’s the cardiac monitor, dummy,” came a familiar voice. “You’ve only heard it a dozen times before.”
Colin blinked until his eyes grew accustomed to the light. The room came into focus. It was his hospital room, and he was lying on his bed. Sitting beside him was Tyresa.
“How do you feel?” she asked.
He tried to formulate an answer. He wasn’t too sure yet. His mouth was dry, and one side of his head throbbed. Everything felt both familiar and strange at the same time. It felt similar to the morning after his first Mai Tai.
“Groggy,” he replied. “How long was I asleep?”
“About three years.”
Colin sat bolt upright. “What?” The cardiac monitor beeped like mad.
She laughed. “I’m just kidding. Don’t worry, you’ve been out a few hours.”
Colin flopped backwards onto this pillow. “Oh, hilarious, Tyresa,” he said through gritted teeth. “Very funny.”
“You obviously remember me,” she said. “How about the rest of that memory?”
His memory? Slowly, moment by moment, things fell into place. His last firm memory was being wheeled along a corridor to a room filled with machinery and several people dressed in green gowns. He remembered a nurse asking him to count to ten. He remembered reaching three.
“The surgery,” rasped Colin. “I just had the surgery, didn’t I? Did it work?”
Tyresa nodded. “Doctor Gunga told me everything went according to plan. He also said you’d feel groggy and a bit forgetful for the next few days, but then everything would be back to normal.” Tyresa dragged her seat closer to the bed and smiled. “So, you’re cured. Congratulations.”
Cured. Colin let the word sink in. Cured. The thing that had been trying to kill him was gone. He didn’t have to worry about it anymore. He hadn’t dared to imagine this moment before, so he didn’t really know how he should react. Oddly, he felt no strong reaction, just a vague sense of relief.
Another memory came into his mind, less distinct. He recalled only snatches of images and sounds: a strange spaceship, weird noises, lots of shouting from an unknown man. The man…
He bolted upright again. “That man!” he cried. “The man who kidnapped me—”
Tyresa leapt up. “It’s all right,” she said, gently pushing him back down. “The police have him. You’re safe.”
“Who was he? What did he want with me?”
“His name is J. J. Tiffin,” she explained. “He works for the Erd Tourist Board.”
At first, Colin assumed he’d misheard Tyresa. “The what? ‘Tourist Board’? Since when do tourist boards dispatch kidnappers?”
“It’s a long story,” she sighed. “I’ll explain later when you’re more recovered. The main things is: we stopped him. You’re safe.”
Colin tried to remember more of the ordeal, but everything was fuzzy. His clearest memory was of returning to the hospital in Tyresa’s ship. Even that image was cloudy, but he recalled Tyresa being there and what a comfort that was.
He looked at her. “I suppose I have a lot to thank you for.”
She gave him a wry smile. “Don’t worry about that. We can put together an itemised bill later.”
He thought back to the last time they had spoken: the argument, his silly plan for pretending to be a ‘prophet,’ Tyresa pointing out how idiotic it was. He remembered with a wince his flash of intense, pig-headed pride that had prevented him from simply acknowledging she was right.
“I suppose I should, uh… say sorry, too,” he muttered.
“For what?” she asked.
“The argument we had. You were right, of course. It was a stupid idea.”
“Oh, that.” She shrugged. “Forget it. I should apologise too. You were going through a lot, just looking to find yourself a place in this scary new galaxy. I shouldn’t have flown off the handle so quickly.”
He had to admire her. She seemed to forget squabbles and arguments at the drop of a hat, and just march on with business. Colin, on the other hand, held onto conflicts and brooded over them. He would do well to learn from her.
Colin lifted his arm and offered her an outstretched hand. With a smile, she reached out her own hand and shook his.
Her grip was like a vice.
“Ow!” exclaimed Colin. “There’s no need to squash my hand.”
“What are you talking about?” she asked.
He cradled his sore hand. “You’re shaking a hand, not trying to unscrew an old jar of honey.”
“Jeez, Colin, do you ever stop complaining?”
“I’m weak, you know, I’ve just undergone surgery.”
“It was a perfectly normal handshake.”
“For a three hundred pound wrestler maybe.”
“Colin, I don’t even know what a ‘pound’ is—”
The door to Colin’s room swooshed open and brought the bickering to an end. Into the room swept Ade.
“Good afternoon, sir. I’m very glad to see you awake. Congratulations on your successful procedure.”
Colin’s felt like he was seeing an old friend again. “Thanks, Ade.”
“I hope this is not an imposition,” the android continued, “but would you be up to receiving a visitor at this time? There is a gentleman here who wishes to pay his respects.”
A visitor? Everyone Colin knew was already in the room with him. Who the heck did he know on Procya? The only person he remembered was that fellow Hanson, the insufferable preacher.
Oh well. Colin might as well be polite to his host. He nodded.
Ade turned to the doorway. “Please come in, sir.”
Through the doorway came, not Hanson, but a young man of about eighteen or nineteen. At first, Colin didn’t recognise him, but his fa
ce seemed familiar. Then the penny dropped. He had seen the lad before, but when he had been wearing overalls and looking a lot more unkempt. Now, he was dressed in an ill-fitting grey suit, and his hair was plastered down with gel—or possibly industrial-strength glue from the looks of it.
“I know you,” said Colin. “The young lad from the spaceport.”
“That’s right,” he smiled. “Spudge.”
“Yes. What are you doing here?
Tyresa stood up and explained. “Spudge here got mixed up in the whole mess. He got kidnapped too. I doubt you remember, but it’s thanks to Spudge that we got you back.”
“Really?”
She nodded. “All by himself, he disabled Tiffin’s warp engines and, if that weren’t enough, he even managed to neutralise Tiffin himself. That gave us the time to capture his ship and retrieve you.” Tyresa stretched out her hand towards Spudge. “A very brave and resourceful young man. Thank you.”
“Aw, shucks,” blushed Spudge. He went to shake Tyresa’s hand. “There’s no need to tha—aagghh!”
“What’s the matter?” she asked.
With a pained expression, Spudge retrieved his hand and made fists with it. “Oh, nothing. I hurt my hand a little during the whole escapade. That’s, uh, quite a grip you’ve got there, Doctor Jak.”
“Isn’t it?” interjected Colin. “She shakes hands like a vice. Totally unnecessary.”
“Oh shut it, you two,” said Tyresa.
“Come here, Spudge, and have a more gentlemanly handshake.”
He came sheepishly to Colin’s bedside, and the two shook hands.
“Looks like I’m in your debt,” thanked Colin. “How can I ever repay you?”
“Think nothing of it, Mister Douglass,” he replied. “I did what anyone else would have.”
“Somehow, I doubt that.” He gestured at Spudge’s suit. “Anyway, get you! That looks…” Colin scanned the shabby, oversized garment, and struggled for a compliment. “… like a suit.”
“Thanks,” replied Spudge. “It’s Papa’s old suit he got married in, I borrowed it for the occasion. I’ve just been to see the magistrate. I had to give a statement about the whole kidnapping thing. And, seeing as I was in the city, I thought I’d come by and see how you are. I didn’t know if I’d have another chance. I guess you’ll be leaving soon?”