The crew laughed, but Dex couldn’t let the moment last long. “Right. We’re about to serve a banquet, but we have no idea when the guests will arrive. Every single dish must be prepared, and every single one of you needs to keep the others up to speed with your progress. And in the galley, what happens if you think you might get delayed?”
“We call someone over to help,” Cricklade replied. “Someone who’s already done their prep.”
“Exactly,” Dex said triumphantly. “And I shall be your head chef. I’ll be watching each and every one of you, and nothing will get past me without it being perfect. Understood?”
“Aye, sir,” they chorused.
Dex smiled. “Nailsea, I want you on tactical with Zeb. Zeb will run weapons, but you will monitor the shields and deploy countermeasures. Cricklade, you’re on comms. Monitor all incoming traffic. Zeb will show you how to open a channel, and if I ask you to do that, you must snap to it.” Dex fixed them with a look. “Right, you two, go to your posts and be ready.”
“Aye, sir,” they said together and hurried to their stations.
“I’ll take the helm,” Dex went on. “Stimps, you’ll sit by me and help me out. Klegg, you can do the same.” He pointed to the remaining two crew members. “Remind me of your names.”
“Langan, sir.”
“Shreve, sir.”
Dex pursed his lips. “Langan and Shreve, you’ll take the navigation console, which is right next to where I’ll be on the helm. I’ll get you started and show you how to pull up the charts. We may not need them, but if we do, you must be ready to respond rapidly.”
“Sir, what about engineering?” Zeb called out. “Without you to monitor the engines, we may run into difficulties.”
“Dammit!” Dex clenched his jaw. “I can route the controls to the helm, but I can’t do everything at once.”
Slowly, Stimps raised his hand. “Sir, Klegg and I can monitor the engineering panels. If you show us what to look for, we’ll watch those displays like screech hawks.”
Dex smiled. “That’s the spirit, lads. Well done.” He clapped his hands. “Go to your posts. You have five minutes to familiarize yourselves with the displays and ask questions. Go!”
The crew busied themselves, and Dex hurried to the navcom. He had a lot to explain in a short amount of time, but he could do it. He could make this work. Because when it came down to it, he had no other option.
CHAPTER 19
Earth
Brent led the way into the dark alley with Vince and Jerry right behind him. A phone call from Vince had brought Eddie to Brent’s office within minutes, and now, the chauffeur was waiting near the alley’s mouth, the limousine’s powerful engine ticking over. In the backseat, Rawlgeeb, Maisie, and Doctor Cooper were waiting nervously; some more nervously than others. But Brent put them from his mind. He had to focus, taking in every sight, every sound, and unfortunately, every smell.
“Why do you think she picked here?” Vince asked.
Brent indicated the unbroken row of rooftops on both sides of the alley. “Plenty of scope for using the high ground, and if she’s anything like as capable as Rawlgeeb says, she can probably jump clear from one side of the alley to the other.”
“A lot of these buildings are empty,” Jerry put in. “When she grabbed my photographer, I had to climb up through that one over there. The whole place was deserted. Lots of rooms she could use, lots of windows to shoot from.”
“Exactly,” Vince said. “I told you, Brent, we should be taking cover, not marching down here in plain view.”
“She’s not someone we can sneak up on,” Brent replied. “If we make her twitchy, she’ll take us out. But she doesn’t want to do it that way. Think about it. If she’d wanted to shoot us from a distance, she could have done it before now. Instead, she faced us in the coffee shop. You see, Surrana has a sense of style. I understand that, and in a way, I can appreciate it. It takes one to know one.”
“So what do we do now, hotshot?” Jerry asked. “Stand and wait until she shows up?”
“No.” Brent turned around to face Jerry. “I’m not sure you’re going to like this part of the plan, Martellini, but go with it.” His gaze flicked to Vince. “Grab him.”
“What?” Jerry’s cheeks darkened as Vince grabbed hold of him by both arms. “What the hell are you doing? Are you out of your goddamned mind?”
“Almost certainly,” Brent replied. “I’ve tried asking a few shrinks about it, but they always seem to leave town soon afterward. Still, if I ever find out, I’ll give you a call.” He favored Jerry with a smile then turned away, tilting back his head and calling up to the rooftops, “Surrana, we have a trade to make. This guy turned you in. He sold you down the river, Surrana. I know you won’t like that. Maybe it’s something we can talk about.”
Surrana’s voice echoed through the darkness. “Interesting.”
And then she was right there with them, sliding from the shadows, an arm’s length from Brent, a pistol in her hand.
“Holy shit!” Brent hissed. “Where did you come from?”
“I was here all along,” Surrana purred. “I saw your little charade. Most amusing but not very convincing.”
Brent managed a strained smile. “No, you’ve got it wrong. We strung Martellini along to persuade him to come quietly. Why drag a hostage when you can let them walk? That’s what I always say.”
“You bastard!” Jerry growled. “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you.”
“But you came along all the same,” Brent shot back. “That makes you look even dumber, man. You should really think these things through before you open your mouth.” He shook his head. “A good line in banter is much harder to achieve than most people imagine. Still, you’d think a newspaperman could do better. I guess a hack is more at home with simple alliteration.”
Surrana stepped closer to Brent. “For a moment, I was genuinely interested to hear what you had to offer in exchange for this man’s life, but now, I’m not so sure. I don’t think I can stand much more of this.”
“Another damned critic,” Brent muttered. “All right, we’ll cut to the chase. Rawlgeeb told me all about your guild and your code and all. It sounds swell. The weekly meetings must be a hoot although you might want to watch your step when the office sweepstake comes around.”
“Is this your idea of cutting to the chase?” Surrana demanded, raising her pistol to point at Brent’s face.
Brent held his hands to shoulder height. “Short version. Your code says you have to go after someone who betrays you. We’ve saved you the trouble. Here he is, you’re very welcome. Now that has to be worth something, and we’d like you to call off your insane quest for revenge and leave us in peace.”
“Alternatively, I could kill him and both of you, then dash around the corner and polish off the rest of your little gang. I have cameras. I saw the car, and I know who’s inside.” She smiled. “You beat me once–”
“Twice,” Brent interrupted, holding up two fingers.
Surrana sucked air between her teeth. “One thing is for sure, it won’t happen again. Stand still, and I’ll make it quick. I have a lot to get through.”
Brent frowned. “Wait, there was something else.” He rummaged in his coat pocket and pulled out a small plastic box. “We got these from our friends at GIT. Doctor Cooper made a call and had them sent over. They’re better than the pills this guy got for you. These are so new, they’re not even on the market yet, but the Doc is sure they’ll cure you.”
“What are they?” Surrana asked. “Antibiotics?”
“I didn’t follow all the technical details,” Brent admitted. “They’re implants. You stick the needle in your skin and it releases the meds nice and slow.”
“Don’t do it, Surrana!” Jerry blurted. “Those implants will send you schizo. And sometimes they blow up. The Gloabon told me all about it.”
“Yeah, sorry, Martellini, but we made that stuff up,” Brent said. He inclined his head toward
Jerry. “This guy! What a sap.”
Surrana nodded. “I’ll take the meds from you, Mr. Bolster, but on reflection, I still think it’s best if I kill you, anyway. I’m sure you understand. I can’t have people thinking I’m getting soft.”
“But I didn’t bring enough to cure you,” Brent said quickly. “There’s only one implant in this box, but Cooper says you need at least thirty. A month’s supply. But you’ll never get them unless I walk out of here alive.”
Surrana hesitated. “Hand me the box.”
Brent stretched out his hand. “Here. See for yourself.”
“I intend to.” Surrana snatched the box, sliding it open with one hand. She sniffed. “There are live glyphoforms in this device. How is that possible?”
Brent wagged his finger in the air. “That was it. Glyphoworms or whatever. What you said. That’s the stuff. It’s all in there. Rawlgeeb said something about it being like a whole bathtub in one little needle. Does that sound right to you? Because now that I say it out loud, it makes no sense whatsoever.”
“Shut up, you fool,” Surrana said slowly, emphasizing each word, then she heaved a sigh. “If I accept this medication from you, we’ll have made a trade, and I’ll have to let you go. Dammit!”
“And what about the others?” Brent asked “Rawlgeeb, Vince, Cooper, and Maisie?”
Surrana nodded. “If those are your terms, then I accept them.”
“What about me?” Jerry cried out. “You can’t just forget about me, Bolster. I brought you here, for God’s sake.”
“I suppose I should add this clown to the list,” Brent said. “I don’t really care much for the guy, but he’s right. I can’t hand him over like a ham to the slaughter.”
“You mean lamb,” Vince muttered. “Ham is dead already.”
“I’ll be damned,” Brent said with a smile. “I’ve been getting that wrong for years.” He winked at Surrana. “Okay, I hate to bargain for our lives and then run, but I’m going to, anyway. So, we’ll send you the rest of your fancy new meds tomorrow, but right now, we all get to go home and live to see another day. Thanks, Surrana. It’s been real. Really awful, but even so, very much as advertised. Goodbye and take care. Please switch off the lights on your way out.”
“No!” Surrana snapped.
Brent chuckled under his breath. “Sorry if I confused you. The part about the lights was a joke. Obviously, there are no lights, so that was just a…” He let his voice trail away. “You weren’t talking about that were you?”
“Correct. Your deal is unacceptable,” Surrana stated. “The reporter stays here, and I will treat him as befits a loathsome traitor.”
“Ah.” Brent considered asking Surrana to explain exactly how she treated traitors, but he was by no means confident he could say it without mangling the words, and this was no time for tongue-twisters. “What if I withheld the meds unless you let him go too?”
“Then you would be reneging on our trade, and I’d be forced to kill all of you,” Surrana replied smoothly. “If I were you, I would leave right now. Walk away, both of you. Quickly. You will not want to witness what must happen to Mr. Martellini.”
“What do we do, Brent?” Vince cried. “I don’t like this, but I can’t see a way out. I’m sorry, Mr. Martellini.”
Brent hesitated. “You know, it’s a strange thing, but what I said about the lights was oddly prophetic. It is getting brighter in here, isn’t it?”
Surrana narrowed her eyes, her gaze flicking upward, and a shaft of brilliant white light sliced down through the night, pinning her in its piercing glare. She leaped back, but the light followed her. “What is this?” she yelled, her pistol wavering between Brent and Vince. “What have you done?”
“I haven’t done a thing,” Brent replied, shouting to make himself heard over the rumbling roar that suddenly filled the alley. He looked into Surrana’s eyes, willing her to understand him. “This wasn’t me,” he hollered. “I have no idea what’s happening. No idea at all.”
But Surrana was no longer there. The thunderous noise died as quickly as it had started, and the shaft of glittering light blinked out, plunging them into a deeper darkness. Brent rubbed his eyes, but everything was blurred, the glare of the bright beam persisting in his vision as a green glow. He looked up, but there was no trace to show where the light had come from.
“What the hell was that?” Vince cried.
“Only one thing it could be,” Brent replied. “Has to be GIT. They sent the meds by courier. They’re the only ones who could’ve known we were here.” He grinned at Martellini. “This must be your lucky day.”
“Oh yeah? Well, how about this for luck, you bastard?” Jerry lashed out, landing a right hook on Brent’s eye socket, and for the second time that night, Brent saw a flash of bright light.
CHAPTER 20
Aboard The Kreltonian Skull – Andromeda Class Battle Cruiser
Official Status: Unknown.
Ship’s Log: Earth Orbit – Skeleton Crew.
“This is the shield array modulation control,” Zeb said carefully. “It enables us to adapt our defensive force field to counter an ongoing threat and prevent damage to the ship.” He glanced at Nailsea and saw only incomprehension in the chef’s eyes. “Nailsea, what do you do if a pan is too hot and your piece of meat is going to get burned?”
Nailsea smiled. “Flip it, sir. Then keep it on the move to spread the heat. Obviously, I turn the stove down as well.”
“In this analogy, the heat represents incoming nuclear missiles, so regrettably, we can’t dial them down,” Zeb replied. “But you see this image of the hull? This will show the hot spots, that is, the places where we might get burned.”
“Understood, sir. But we can’t flip the ship back and forth, can we?”
“That would be inadvisable,” Zeb replied. “But we can redirect the shield’s power to cover the hot spots, like this.” He slid his fingers across the display, selecting a portion of the hull and pressing to bring up the shield’s strength control, which he dragged up and down with his fingertip. “I’ve flipped the shield from one area of the ship to another, but in a battle, I’d have to keep reacting to the threats as they occur. There’s only so much shield to go around, and if we focus all of it in one place, it would leave another area vulnerable. It would be like letting one half of a steak get overcooked while the rest remains raw.”
“But, how will I know if I’ve flipped it enough?” Nailsea asked. “With a steak, I could see for myself or poke it with my finger, but with this…”
“That’s where this display comes in.” Zeb pointed to a set of images of the ship, each showing a different point of view. “This is the hull integrity monitor. If we’re taking damage, it will show here in a range of colors. Yellow is a warning, orange is more serious, red is…well, red is like the diner throwing his plate at the wall and storming out.”
“Right,” Nailsea said thoughtfully. “Not so bad then.”
“Seriously?”
Nailsea shrugged. “I’ve known worse to happen. This is an Andelian ship.”
“Maybe I’m taking the analogy too far,” Zeb said quickly. “Perhaps all this cooking talk is muddying the water.”
Nailsea shook his head vigorously. “No, sir. I’m with you one hundred percent. I’ve got it.” He pointed to another control panel. “What does this one do?”
“Countermeasures,” Zeb replied. “They’re very important, but their names are long and kind of technical. How can I explain? Erm, if your main course goes wrong at the last second, and you don’t have time to start again, how would you fix it?”
“Seasoning. Spices. Baste it with hog’s butter. A touch of this, a touch of that. It’s amazing what you can do.”
“Excellent. Most of these are automatic once deployed. One tap will do it. It’s simply a question of deploying the right one at the right time.” Zeb ran his finger down the list of countermeasures. “Let’s call this one salt and this one…well, maybe it would be
better if you name them, then you can tell me what you’ve come up with. That way, you’ll remember them better.”
“No problem.” Nailsea cracked his knuckles and studied the panel, muttering under his breath.
“How’s it going?” Dex asked as he joined them. “Are you making headway?”
“Definitely,” Zeb replied. “We’ve established a working frame of reference utilizing Nailsea’s area of expertise, and I think it will aid our communication.”
“Ah, now I understand.” A relieved smile lightened Dex’s expression. “When I heard you talking about raw meat, I thought you’d lost it. I’ll use that approach with the others. I’ll try, anyway.” His smile faded, and he looked Zeb in the eye. “Listen, I need your tactical analysis of this situation. We both know this kind of thing isn’t my strong suit. I’d be far happier down in engineering with a bunch of ruptured pipes and a reactor in flames.”
“Understood.” Zeb blinked repeatedly. “Sir, I’ve run some simulations, and it’s only a matter of time before one side or the other starts shooting. Perhaps our best course of action would be to get in the way.”
“Put ourselves between the fleet and the Gloabons?” Dex chewed his lower lip. “Our own side won’t fire on us, but if the Gloabons decide we’re a threat, they’ll blow us apart.”
“We’ll maintain a safe distance from the space station. Also, we might engage in behavior that will give the Gloabons pause for thought.”
“Such as what?” Dex asked.
Zeb turned to Nailsea. “Tell me, if the diners are going to be kept waiting, how do you keep them happy?”
“Nibbles, bread, that kind of thing,” Nailsea replied. “It doesn’t fill them up, but it gives them something to do.”
“Interesting.” Zeb tilted his head to one side. “It’s a while since I had control of our weapons. Perhaps it’s time for me to get a little target practice.”
Dex’s frown furrowed his brow. “Hardly the time or the place, but…oh, I see what you’re saying. We could launch the buoys we use for live firing drills, but won’t that be dangerous? The Gloabons might think we’re starting an attack.”
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