The Captain clenched his hands to stop them from shaking. “Understood Lord."
◊
Hiding behind a small shuttle, Tynan watched the Watcher ship depart. Once he was sure that it was safe, he and his one remaining Templar scurried across to their ship. The few Nephillim left behind by the hasty departure of the Watcher ship had left the docking bay – presumably making their way towards the lifepods. Not that there were any left, thought Tynan.
Unlike the Watchers, Tynan wasn’t in any hurry. In order to trace the destination of a ship once it entered Nospace, the pursuer had to be in sensor range. Tynan wasn’t under such restrictions. Unknown to the recently departed Simbiel, Tynan, as insurance, had placed a tracing device on the Debacherous Weekend.
That wasn’t the only consideration of course. The Areopagite’s were now hopelessly outnumbered. He toyed with the idea of using the ships bridge and engineering crew as canon fodder, discarding it almost immediately. Mutiny’s and mob lynchings he could do without.
Before he went up against them again, he would have to even the odds. A smile crossed his face. He knew just the place. If he was responsible for bringing back the Overdrive data to Metatron, then nothing would stand in the way of elevation to Angel status. Giving his orders, he settled back into the chair that Simbiel had once occupied, thinking happy thoughts of winged domination.
Chapter Five
Gabriella was in a foul mood. A mood so foul that even Sammael, who knew the vagary of her moods intimately, was taken aback. He’d never seen her so, well, pissed off before. He sat, thankfully, in a chair well out of arms reach. In front of him, a few meters away, Gabriella was pacing back and forwards on the plush red carpet.
The private study of Gabriella was nestled deep in her quarters of Makon’s royal palace. Extremely well appointed, its oak paneled walls were rumored to have come from Earth itself. A large thick tapestry covered almost one entire wall depicting an Angel, looking remarkably like Gabriella, sitting on a throne. Before it stood a large wooden desk and what was once a comfortable looking leather chair. It now lay in pieces on the floor.
Gabriella stopped her pacing and sat down gracefully on the edge of the desk. She picked up a glass paperweight, hefted it thoughtfully for a moment and then threw it at Sammael. Sammael had the good grace not to erect a field, which would have enraged her more. Instead, he moved his head slightly to the side. The paperweight whistled past his head and shattered into multiple fragments against the far wall.
“What the fuck do you mean they got away?” she demanded.
Sammael raised his hands in what he hoped was a placating gesture.
“The situation is under control. They are currently being tracked. We have a fair idea of their destination and some resources on their way there as we speak. They won’t elude us again.”
“You better hope to fuck they don’t. One more stuff up from you and you’ll find those pretty wings of yours shoved up your arse.” She paused, took a long breath and eyed him more calmly. “What exactly happened?”
Sammael had been given the liberty of a few minutes to prepare what he was to say to the Princess after hearing of the events aboard the Dirty Little Minx.
“The friends of Felix were more resourceful than we gave them credit for. They also received some help from other passengers and of course our dear associates showed up and made themselves known."
Gabriella waved her hand dismissively. “Excuses, excuses, fucking excuses. What I need my dear Sammael," she said, approaching him and running a gloved hand seductively down his chin, “is fucking results.” Sammael found himself caught in a small hurricane of emotion. Part of him was chuffed that he didn’t flinch. The rest of him was just plain terrified.
“Yes, of course Princess. I won’t let you down.”
“No. No you won’t. And do you know why Sammael?”
Sammael gulped and nodded.
“Yes, that’s right,” she continued conversationally, “because if you do, you’ll be dead.”
Sammael nodded again. Gabriella turned around and walked back towards her desk. He tried not to look at the perfect buttocks swaying beneath her wings.
“Prepare my Valkyrie. Its time I took a personal interest in the matter.”
“Yes Princess.” Sammael stood and made his way to the door.
“Sammael?”
He turned. “Yes Princess?”
“Be a dear and order me another chair will you?”
◊
Although it didn’t conform to the normal properties of reality in many respects, Nospace obeyed one of the more fundamental laws of the universe. Friction did exist. The more streamlined the vessel, the quicker it could travel through Nospace. The Debacherous Weekend had been designed primarily for speed. Field strength did play a part however, but Tarquin’s ship possessed more than its share of power in that respect. Curiously, no matter how much a ship’s space was taken up by engine, the speed which they could travel through Nospace was not significantly affected.
Confident that their pursuers would be slower in their bulkier and larger ships, the occupants of the Debacherous Weekend were making good use of the well appointed bar in the top section of the ship.
The bar, although having no windows, was pleasant enough. Its walls and ceilings were entirely composed of holographic projections currently showing scenes of real space. Four glow lamps in each corner gave the area a mellow and cozy atmosphere. Thick blue carpet covered the floor. The couches, circling the room, were covered in plush red velvet. Two small tables sat adjacent to the couches and the bar itself was situated in one corner containing a large variety of intoxicants, mostly taking the form of bottles, stacked high on shelves and held in place with a low level field.
Felix was currently behind the bar serving drinks. Bruce, the Gorilla, was contentedly curled up on the couch with a pint of beer in one hand and a banana in the other. His partner, Derek, staring out at the starfield, managed to block out a large part of the view with his white bulk. A pint of beer was almost swallowed by his large paw. Crystal, Logan and Tarquin sat around one of the tables having an animated discussion.
“So why can’t you tell us who you work for?," asked Logan
Crystal sighed. “I’ve already explained this to Felix. We can’t risk any other interested party finding out who developed it until we get Felix safely to his destination.”
Logan exchanged a look with Tarquin. “And what do you actually do again?”
“Security. Look, do you want to look at my fucking resume.”
Logan waved his hand at Crystal. “Sorry. No need to get upset.”
“Can we just drop this please?," said Felix from behind the bar. “Its my hide. I trust her and besides, she got us out of a pretty nasty predicament back there.”
“Yeah, yeah. Ok. I’ll drop it.” Logan buried himself in his beer.
Tarquin turned to Bruce. “And what about you guys?”
Bruce swallowed his banana in one gulp and had a swig of beer before answering. “You can keep us on if you like or drop us off at this Fever place.” He shrugged. Crystal had to stop herself from laughing. A Gorilla shrugging with a thoughtful look on its face looked a little ludicrous.
Controlling herself, Crystal answered him. “We might keep you on for a while yet. There’s always a chance that we’ll get traced to Fever in which case we’ll need some heavy hitters. My employer will pick up the tab and I’m sure Tarquin won’t mind you borrowing some of his toys. You will be compensated of course," she added hurriedly to Tarquin after a frown crossed his face. “Seeing as both you and Logan are currently unemployed, we might put you both on the payroll in addition to the cost of hiring your ship. Does that sound acceptable?” Both Logan and Tarquin nodded. Logan turned to Felix.
“How does that grab you? We’re working for the same company. Bet you never thought that would happen?”
Felix grinned. “Well considering they don’t normally employ people with low IQ’s, i
t looks like you’ve lucked out.”
“Kiss my arse tossnuts.”
“Pass."
“While you’re up there," said Tarquin, “can you make me another of those cocktails. You know, the one that’s pretty much pure alcohol.”
“I thought you were meant to be driving the ship?," said Felix.
Tarquin shrugged. “The ship’s AI can handle it. I normally just confirm its decisions.”
The ship’s alarm went off.
“Looks like you might have to do some confirming," said Felix.
Crystal stood up. “What is it?”
Tarquin was already heading down the stairs towards the bridge. “Proximity alert. Shiva.," he said over his shoulder.
Felix downed his beer. “Oh fuck.”
◊
To the assembled observers on the bridge of the Debacherous Weekend, it looked like a many tentacled grapefruit was wrestling with a discus.
Still some distance away, the Shiva was magnified to fill the screen. With no apparent color in Nospace apart from grey, the scene looked like something out of an old black and white movie.
“Is that a Martian ship its got there," asked Felix, bending over Tarquin’s shoulder.
Tarquin enhanced the view. “Looks like it. Must be those guys that were on the Dirty Little Minx. Lucky for us too. We might be able to make a run for it while it sucks the life out of the poor bastards.”
The rest of the group looked on in amazement. Few people had been fortunate to escape after actually seeing a Shiva in action. The readout showed the Shiva to be 4km in diameter. Six “tentacles” protruded from the main body – two of them firmly grasping the Martians ship and slowly drawing it in.
Tarquin queried his AI. “The draining process must have only just started. The readout shows that their ship still has power although its fading fast.” Four hundred meters in length, the Martian ship, inevitably a flying saucer, was dwarfed by its attacker.
“Well, we can’t just sit here and let them die,” said Felix.
Logan mesmerized by the view on the screen turned towards Felix. “What do you suggest? Get out there and try and distract it with your scrawny arse?”
Tarquin prepared his ship for evasive maneuvering. “Face it Felix. There’s nothing we can do. Our best bet is to get the fuck out of here.”
“There might be another way," said Crystal quietly.
The others turned to her in surprise.
“Sorry," said Logan, “I didn’t quite catch that. It sounded like ‘there might be another way’."
“That’s what I said.”
“But that’s impossible," said a dumbfounded Felix. “Everybody knows there’s no escape from a Shiva. Unless," he added, “you’re an Angel.”
Crystal looked a bit sheepish. “Well…ummm.”
“Tell me you’re not. Please. It can’t be.” Felix was almost pleading.
Crystal took a deep breath. “The organization I work for discovered the secret to creating Angels 25 years ago. I’m the prototype.”
“But you haven’t got wings," spluttered Felix.
“The wings are just for show. This way I can remain incognito.” She put her arms around Felix. “Don’t worry. I’m with the good guys.”
Felix looked at her for a long moment and then nodded. “I trust you.”
Logan, recovering from his surprise, was getting impatient. “Yes, yes. Blahdidah. Whatever you can do to the Shiva, you better do it now. Those Martians are just about to be thoroughly sucked off.”
Crystal looked at the screen. “The big secret the Areopagite’s and Watchers have kept all these centuries is that Angels possess a few strands of Shiva DNA – hence our ability to communicate with them.” She paused and looked around at the others. “I’ve only done this once before and it takes a great deal of concentration. Be ready to move the ship in at my signal.” She closed her eyes.
The men turned back to the screen. No immediate change with the Shiva was apparent. Two minutes passed. Beads of sweat covered Crystal’s brow. The Shiva had almost brought the Martian ship to the kilometer wide orifice that the onlookers assumed was its mouth when a shudder appeared to run through its colossal body. It slowly released the Martian ship which floated, obviously without power, away from it. The Shiva shook itself like a dog emerging from water and headed off in the opposite direction.
Crystal opened her eyes, stumbled, and would have fallen had Felix not caught her. “She’s out cold,” he said. “I’ll go put her in one of the state rooms.” He left carrying the unconscious woman.
Tarquin had one of his eyes closed. “I’ve just received a message from the Martians distress beacon. They’re still alive and require assistance. Their ships fucked though. I’m maneuvering for dock now.”
The Debacherous Weekend powered up its Ion drive and slowly moved towards the crippled ship, spinning to match the trajectory of the Martian ship. Thanks to AG, the men on the bridge were only aware that there was any spin at all by watching the forward screen.
Tarquin turned to Logan. “You alright for a bit of an excursion?," he asked.
Logan shrugged. “Don’t see why not. Have to borrow your suit though. Mines been slightly ventilated.”
“Definitely wear the suit. Just as a precaution. I’ll use the pressurized docking corridor but they may well have lost life support or hull integrity. They don’t know we’re here either so you might surprise them. Their comm channels are out apart from the beacon. ”
Logan nodded and made his way out of the bridge. Tarquin turned to the two Transplanters. “Any other volunteers?”
“I’ll go," said the gorilla, Bruce.
“Good o. There’s a universal vacuum suit in the hold. Its not really designed for Nospace so you may be a little uncomfortable. It should be alright though.” Tarquin turned towards the Polar Bear. “And you?”
Derek shook his head. “Nah. Don’t like cold open spaces.”
◊
The Debacherous Weekend, matching velocity and spin with the Martian ship, had extended its telescopic docking corridor, joining the two ships together at their respective air locks. Logan, in his borrowed battle armor, was halfway along the corridor. Behind him, Bruce, wearing a shapeless and unflattering vacuum suit, struggled to keep up.
Reaching the Martian outer air lock door, Logan tried the manual override before opening a link to the Gorilla.
“The power’s gone and the manual override is wedged shut. Hasn’t been used for a few years by the looks of things. I’ll use the lowest setting on my plasma cannon. Should cut through but will take a while.”
“Nah. I’ve got a better way. Get out of the way.”
Logan looked back in surprise. “What the fuck are you doing?," he said while moving hastily to one side of the corridor.
“We’re in a hurry ain’t we?," he said by way of explanation. The Gorilla pointed the large plasma cannon he’d liberated from Tarquin’s armory at the door and fired. The door flew apart. Bits of metal flew into the corridor but the majority liquefied and floated inside the airlock. One of the pieces struck the corridor accompanied by a loud hissing noise.
Logan raised his eyebrows. “Stupid but effective.”
His heads up display came alive showing the angry face of Tarquin. “What in the name of the seven cunting hells are you doing over there? I’m losing pressure in the corridor.”
“Nothing to worry about," Logan replied. “Bruce was just showing me how mercenaries use diplomacy, tact and subtlety in their everyday activities.”
“Well you better hope our little green friends have suits or have the galactic record for breath holding. Otherwise they’re buggered.”
“I’m sure they’ll manage.”
Careful to avoid any of the liquid globules of metal, the man and the gorilla gingerly entered the air lock. Reaching the far end, Logan anchored himself using one of the grab hoops and indicated that Bruce did likewise. He then triggered the manual override on the inner air lock
door. The doors opened with a hiss of escaping air which soon dissipated. Logan was surprised at the relatively small amount of air. The Martian ship must already have a hull breach.
Ahead of them stretched a low ceilinged corridor bathed in a dull green light and covered with tubes, pipes and conduits. The corridor, obviously designed with Martians in mind, forced both Logan and Bruce to stoop as they entered from the airlock.
The AG had failed with the power so both were forced to use the grab hoops evenly spaced along the walls. Logan moved carefully along the corridor followed by Bruce, who, although was rather adept at catching the hoops, had obviously little experience with zero gravity and was struggling with the cramped confines.
“Fucking little green turds," he muttered under his breath.
“What was that?," Logan enquired through his AI.
“You’d think that they’d make their access ways a little bigger in the interests of staying friends with us normal humans."
Logan turned towards the gorilla in surprise. “You call yourself normal?”
The Gorilla shrugged causing his whole suit to undulate. “Yeah. Why not?”
Logan turned back to the corridor and pushed himself towards the next grab hoop. “Ok then.”
Some 20 meters ahead, the corridor split into two. Getting closer, Logan could see one was marked “Bridge” and the other “Engineering."
“Lets split up," he said to the Gorilla. “You check out Engineering for survivors and I’ll take the bridge. I meet you back at the ship.”
Bruce saluted. “Yes sir," he said enthusiastically. Logan was unsure whether he was taking the piss but thought it best not to start an argument with a 200kg gorilla.
He watched as Bruce started on his awkward way towards Engineering before making his own way towards the bridge. Fifty meters further on Logan emerged into a large cluttered space filled with screens, chairs and consoles. Discarded fast food wrappers and empty beer dispensers floated haphazardly about in the near total vacuum. A large sign on one wall helpfully spelt out bridge just in case someone might have missed it. He took another step forward and almost walked into a plasma bolt that narrowly missed his head, splashing on the bulk head behind him with an audible sizzling sound.
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