The new ship’s Captain, a stocky, taciturn man, approached and waited quietly until Tynan acknowledged his presence.
“Yes?," he enquired brusquely.
“The Watcher Trireme continues to gain on us, despite our efforts to the contrary, Sir.”
“Well, then head towards one of the planetary defense stations. The Watcher’s won’t dare attack us if we’re too close to the station.”
The Captain nodded and turned away. Tynan scowled after him. The man showed far too little deference for his liking. That would all change, of course, when he was elevated to Angel status. All he needed now was for Felix and his band of merry hijackers to make their appearance. Of course, he would have to deal with the Watcher’s, but once Gabriella’s ship was repaired, Asel would be outmatched and outgunned.
The Divine Retribution moved slowly towards Gitane’s nearest planetary defense station. The ship got within 1000 kilometers before receiving a warning from the defense network, ordering Tynan to proceed no further unless he required assistance or had legitimate business on the planet. Gitane was notoriously intolerant towards foreign warships. The Watcher ship maintained its position a further 5,000 kilometers away.
Tynan examined the station through his ship’s sensors. The PDS was two kilometers in length, half that in diameter and some 500 meters thick. Gitane’s planetary defense station’s were a standard model, rectangular, uninspiring and employed by most developed planet’s in the colonized galaxy. Even in its current position on the sun side of Gitane, the grey shell would have been all but invisible but for the myriad of lights, presumably sensor beacons, docking guides and the like.
Tynan upped the magnification on his ship’s sensor and could make out numerous high yield plasma cannons, field disruptors and slipmissile batteries. Definitely not to be trifled with. Or any form of dessert for that matter. Tynan’s Galley would last but a few minutes against one. Gabriella’s Valkyrie, on the other hand, was perhaps the only ship that stood a chance in a pitched battle.
Tynan let out a slow breath. At least he would be safe here. Asel would be mad to attack and risk the firepower contained within the 12 stations dotted around the planet
A number of other ships were currently in orbit. Mostly freighter’s by the look of them. Some, after receiving clearance from Gitane’s space control authority, moved slowly down to the surface under the watchful eye of the stations. Others, newly arrived, rotated slowly about the planet, waiting for their clearance. Tynan’s own ship, and that of Gabriella’s on the other side of the planet, were carefully monitoring all arrivals and departures. According to the alignment of the Hot Tucker, Gitane was the most probable destination, being the only inhabited planet between Fever and Novelle New Zealand. It was just a matter of time until they made an appearance.
◊
Two packets of tandoori chicken hit Walter square in the face. He didn’t bother to wipe it off, fully occupied as he was holding on for dear life. The asteroid had struck amidships, instantly sucking out a variety of meals that would have been the envy of any Indian restaurant worthy of the name. The three of them – Walter, Ram Terry and Bruce - had been caught in the cargo bay near to where the asteroid had impacted. Inexplicably, emergency fields hadn’t been put in place. Walter could only assume that Tarquin was diverting all power to the engines.
Casting a frantic glance over his shoulder, it appeared that Bruce was in the same predicament as himself, hanging on to fixed shelves in an effort not to be sucked out of the gaping hole in the hull. Ram Terry, curiously, seemed unaffected, surrounded by a glowing blue field that he’d somehow erected.
Walter had no time to consider this as the shelf he was holding onto began to give way, moving him inexorably towards the rupture. A packet hit the fingers on one hand, causing him to loose his grip. With a yell, he found himself flying through the cargo bay, accompanied by a large number of packet meals and other debris. Bruce made a grab for him as he sailed past, but missed and almost lost his own grip on the shelf. Walter continued to yell for several seconds, finally realizing that he had not been shot into space after all, and was currently suspended against a field now sealing the breach in the hull.
Bruce came over and helped the speechless and shaken Walter down from the field.
“You alright?” enquired the mercenary.
Walter nodded mutely. Ram Terry, still enclosed in his blue field, floated over.
“I think you two should put your vacuum suits on.”
“What about you?," asked Bruce. He grabbed hold of Walter with one hand and a nearby shelf with the other as the ship bucked violently.
Ram Terry shook his woolly head. “Not necessary. I can survive in a vacuum." Bruce raised his eyebrows in surprise.
“If the ship gets holed again," his Raminess went on, “you might get sucked out. It would appear that it takes some time for the ship to get the fields up.” Bruce nodded and dragged Walter over to a storage locker where he pulled out a suit and began helping the still shaken man into it. Bruce was in the process of donning his when a searing pain filled his head.
“Not again," he groaned and blacked out.
◊
Felix had almost reassembled the Overdrive when the asteroid struck the freighter, sending him sprawling into a corner. Crystal, defying the artificial gravity of the ship, floated over and helped him to his feet.
“Are you alright darling?," she asked sweetly.
Felix nodded and smiled ruefully at her, rubbing his head where it had connected with the bulkhead.
“I think something just hit us,” she said.
“Either that or I think Tarquin should have his pilot’s license revoked.”
“Are you sure he’s got one?," responded Crystal. She noted with some satisfaction that the doors to the engine room had automatically closed with the hull breach. Good to see something actually worked on the ship.
Felix returned to the Overdrive, rapidly running a systems check before closing the cover. He opened a channel to Tarquin.
“Its ready.”
Tarquin’s AI generated portrait merely nodded in response and cut the link.
Crystal felt a twinge and grabbed Felix before he fell to the floor, unconscious.
Outside the ship, another asteroid, despite Tarquin’s best efforts to avoid it, was about to strike the Hot Tucker’s engine room. Overdrive engaged, the ship disappeared in a flash of light, the asteroid passing through the spot occupied by the ship a mere nanosecond earlier. Aboard the attacking vessel, Eighth Grand Master Target Designator Dref IV, opened his mandibles in dismay, allowing his bottom lip to sag. “Mecolik sa betooli”
*
◊
Gabriella sat astride the naked man, enjoying watching the play of his muscles as he bucked beneath her. His hands squeezed her large firm breasts, the grip tightening as he gasped his way towards orgasm. With one final heave, he came, lying back with a sweaty grin of satisfaction.
“Right," she said, all business. “You’ve had your fun, now get down there," she indicated her groin, “and finish the job.” She stood up and pulled his head forcibly into her crutch. Unable to complain and barely able to breath, the hapless male went about his task with enthusiasm, trying not to dwell on the consequences of not pleasing the Angelic Princess.
Her own orgasm well on its way from the rhythmic motions of his tongue, she was somewhat miffed when an urgent message came through her AI, demanding urgent attention. With a curse, she threw the man aside.
“What is it?," she demanded.
Sammael appeared under her eyelid. “The ship’s repaired Princess. We’re ready to depart at your command.”
“Thank you Sammael. Thank you very much,” she said acidly and cut the link. The man, Captain Jacques deMer, lay back on the bed, a confused look on his face.
“A problem?," he asked.
Gabriella ignored him, throwing on her robe and buckling a silver breastplate over it.
Captain deMer, realiz
ing that he was being dismissed, finally rose and began donning his own garments. No stranger to arrogance and accustomed to the haughty behavior of passing Areopagite dignitaries, he gave his dismissal little thought.
Gabriella had met the Captain of Planetary Defense Station 8 whilst wandering around, waiting for her ship to be repaired. Tall, handsome and muscular, he was just her type. A bit too talkative for her liking. Her AI supplied translation program gave his French accent an annoying inflection.
Finished dressing, she exited the bedroom without a backward look. Leaving his apartment, Gabriella found an AG lift, commanding it to take her to her ship. Seconds later, the door to the capsule opened, revealing a small, unadorned chamber containing a number of tiny, field reinforced portholes. Gabriella walked out and peered out of one of the portholes. Her ship, dominating the entire starboard side of the defense station, hung suspended outside, spotlights played on its hull as maintenance droids hurriedly put the finishing touches to the repairs. Stars and starship exhausts competed for attention behind the massive craft.
She moved to the airlock door, guarded by two burly Gitanians armed with plasma cannons. They moved out of her way and nodded respectfully as the door cycled open, allowing her to move down the telescopic corridor connected to her ship.
Sammael and two fully armored Areopagite Knights greeted her at the entrance to the ship and bowed as she swept her way through the airlock.
“Power up the fields and weapon systems and move the ship away from the station Sammael,” she said over her shoulder, moving through the airlock and into the main access corridor.
Sammael failed to hide his look of irritation at being treated so dismissively. He quickly smoothed his features into humble obedience as Gabriella stopped and turned to look at him.
“Yes?” she said impatiently.
“Of course Princess. At once.”
“Good," she said, turning away once more. “When you’re done with that, come to my chambers. You interrupted some important business before and I’ll be needing you to rectify it.”
“Yes Princess.” She continued on into the ship, heading for her quarters. The two Areopagite Knights grinned knowingly at each other, quickly wiping the expressions off their faces as Sammael glared at them.
◊
Asel was bored. He had enjoyed the game of cat and mice he’d played with the Areopagite War Galley, but since it had moved within the protective umbrella of Gitane’s defense network, events on board his ship had taken on a more monotonous quality.
Big girl’s blouse, he thought.
He wished Felix and his Overdrive would make an appearance soon. Everything was prepared. His men had been briefed and sat poised at their consoles ready to do his bidding.
He shifted restlessly in his command chair, toying with the idea of retiring to his private quarters for a quick bout of self indulgent masturbation over some interactive holoporn. He knew he’d regret the decision to leave all 6 wives and 13 concubines on Ardos. About to rise from his chair, a priority message came through his AI, forwarded by the ships sensor coverage.
“A ship matching the description of the one sought has just entered real space, approximately 37,000 kilometers from this location," it reported.
Asel smiled to himself. His men turned to him expectantly. He gave his orders.
◊
Tynan had just been brought his dinner and a glass of wine when the screens in front of him and the ones scattered around the bridge started bleeping and flashing in a proximity alert. A nanosecond later, his AI repeated the same warning along with a tactical analysis. Sweeping his meal and wine off his lap and onto the back of one of his bridge officers below him, Tynan stood and demanded a report from his Captain.
The Captain’s AI had furnished the man with an analysis of the situation.
“Its a slipmissile Sir. Just appeared and 200 kms away.”
“Well, don’t just stand there. Evasive maneuvers.”
“Its not moving towards us Sir. Its heading towards the PDS.”
“What! Who fired it?”
The Captain looked confused. “According to its weapon signature, it was fired by us.”
It was Tynan’s turn to look confused. “We didn’t though, did we?”
The Captain shook his head. “No Sir."
“Well, who did?”
“I have no idea Sir.”
“Well, find out you idiot.”
“Yes Sir.” The man turned and began issuing orders. He turned back towards Tynan moments later to report.
“We’ve still no idea where it came from Sir. The slipmissile has been targeted by the PDS.” He paused and his eyelid closed over one eye. “The ship’s reporting we have multiple weapon locks from the PDS. They’re preparing to fire.”
Tynan felt his stomach sink. The Planetary Defense Station could wipe the floor with them. “Evasive maneuvers then.”
“Already initiated sir”
“Well then, I guess we should prepare for impact.”
The Captain saluted and returned to his command chair where he ordered his seat to strap himself in. Around the bridge, the rest of the crew were doing likewise. Tynan sat and instructed his seat for maximum impact protection. Armored and padded straps immediately deployed around his body doing little to defeat Tynan’s sense of impending doom.
Outside and 800km away from the Divine Retribution, the rogue slipmissile was finally destroyed by the PDS some 200km from impact. With the immediate threat nullified, the huge station then turned its full attention onto the Areopagite ship. The small war galley had ignited its main Ion drive and was hastily trying to get out of range.
The station’s AI calmly assessed the situation, determining that even if the attacking ship accelerated at full power, it would take a full 2 minutes to get out of range. If it had a human personality base, it would have sniggered – the Areopagite Galley couldn’t escape and lacked the firepower to even inflict any damage on the station. Within its cold mental construct, the AI paused for a moment to consider this fact. The Areopagite’s had effectively committed suicide by attacking the PDS in the first place. Odd.
The AI brought more tactical analysis programs on-line. It conducted a more thorough scan of the surrounding space, pausing to consider the location of the Watcher class 1 Trireme that was in a geosynchronous orbit some 5,000km away. Technically, the Watcher ship was still in range of its slipmissiles. One of its tactical subroutines suggested that the Watcher ship – given time and inside information – could have duplicated the Areopagite’s weapon signatures. It toyed with the idea of targeting the Watcher ship before dismissing the assessment as an unlikely scenario.
Two seconds later, its AI threat assessment complete, the Captain of the PDS gave the order to fire.
Six batteries of slipmissiles – one fifth of the PDS’ complement – launched, disappearing into nospace before appearing again 500 kms away from the frantically accelerating Areopagite ship. Thirty six slipmissiles immediately locked onto the ship and began closing the gap.
Aboard the Divine Retribution, Tynan’s AI reported this new development. His ship’s field would hold out against 2 or 3 slipmissiles only. Against this overwhelming onslaught, it gave him but one option for survival.
“Bollocks,” he said. With a sigh, he instructed the ship to eject the bridge from its superstructure, blasting the small compartment out and away from the doomed Galley. Three seconds later, 24 slipmissiles struck the hull, immediately destroying the ship and creating a large, rapidly expanding debris cloud. Twelve more slipmissiles hunted amongst the cloud, targeting large fragments and destroying them with clinical efficiency. After 3 more seconds, the five remaining slipmissiles returned back to the PDS, reporting to the AI that the threat had been completely destroyed.
Unseen by either the slipmissiles or their controlling AI, the bridge of the once proud Areopagite Galley, The Divine Retribution, hidden within a cloud of debris, was rapidly moving away from the scene of
destruction.
◊
Crystal fired up the Ion drive and directed the Hot Tucker to make for Gitane’s nearest PDS. The closest of Gitane’s planetary defense stations was still some 35,000kms away and the ship reported there was a large amount of activity – including what appeared to be a debris cloud – between it and the station.
Gitane’s communication network informed the Hot Tucker that due to the disturbance, no ship would be granted access to the planet’s surface.
Crystal, in the command chair previously occupied by Tarquin, considered her options. She turned towards Ram Terry who was perched in Logan’s chair next to her. Tarquin and Logan lay unconscious on the floor beneath them. The others – including Felix – were still unconscious in the cargo bay. The transition between the centre of the galaxy and Gitane had been smooth and instantaneous, albeit slightly painful. Felix had made no mistakes this time – assembling and programming the Overdrive correctly for their return to the human occupied part of the galaxy.
“Suggestions, your Raminess?”
Ram Terry looked thoughtful. “This is technically an emergency. I believe our life support is due to run out?." He looked at Crystal who nodded.
“Then I suggest we make for one of those defense stations. I’m sure they wouldn’t fire on an unarmed ship. Besides,” he added, “The Church of the Holy Lamb has some influence on Gitane.”
Crystal nodded again and fired instructions into the Hot Tucker’s AI. “I’m sure you’re right your Raminess, but these Gitanians have a reputation for shooting first and asking questions from the charred remains.”
As the ship made its slow way towards the PDS, the Hot Tucker’s slow and ancient AI took some time identifying a ship heading to intercept them, occupied as it was trying to fly the ship and maintain the failing life support and artificial gravity. Overtaxed, it finally warned Crystal when the Watcher Class 1 Trireme, the Sweet Bejesus, was only 15,000kms away. The PDS was still 20 minutes away. The ship reported that it would be able to maintain life support for only another 10 minutes. Given the lack of options, Crystal directed the Hot Tucker to make for the debris cloud that was floating between them and the PDS.
Overdrive Page 22