Dead Men Don't Disco

by Michael Campling

  Brent ran his hand through his hair. “This is no good.” He stood at the cell door and pushed his face into the gap between the bars. “Hey, neighbor! Do you happen to speak English, by any chance?”

  There was a pause before a gruff voice answered, “Yes. Do you?”

  “Everyone’s a critic,” Brent muttered. “What should I do, take elocution lessons?”

  “Just talk to him,” Maisie said. “Or do you want me to try my Andelian again?”

  “No, I’ve got this.” Brent raised his voice. “Yes, I speak English. Who are you? And how come you’re locked up? I thought you guys had a treaty with the Gloabons.”

  “I am Captain Stanch of the Andel-Kreit Coalition ship, The Kreltonian Skull. And I am here as a result of a…a diplomatic accident.”

  “You mean incident,” Maisie said, joining Brent at the door.

  “I know what I mean,” Stanch said darkly. “After the accident, I hoped I could make things right. We agreed to cooperate with the Gloabons, but I did not expect that we’d be thrown in the brig and left to rot.” He let out a rough barking noise that could only have been a curse. “Captivity is not good for Andelians. Not good at all. It makes us angry.”

  “We?” Brent asked. “Who’s in there with you?”

  “My officers, or most of them anyway. We number twelve. The rest of my crew were taken elsewhere.”

  Brent looked to the others. “Did you hear that? They have a dozen Andelians in there.”

  “Yeah, and we thought we were crowded,” Vince replied. “They must be jammed in like sardines.”

  Brent cast a withering glance at Vince, but before he could follow it up, a voice in the corridor made him stop to listen.

  “You men, come here!” someone snapped. “Explain yourselves.”

  “That voice is familiar,” Maisie murmured. “Who is she?”

  “Stay quiet,” Brent hissed, pressing himself against the bars and peering out. “Dammit! It’s no good, I can only see the guards, and they have their backs to me.”

  Focusing on the new arrival, the guards shared a derisive chuckle. “What’s the problem?” one of them demanded. “What do you want, pen pusher?”

  “How dare you?” the female snapped. “I need to see the authorization for the prisoners from Earth. All abductees must be recorded correctly. Where are your records? I warn you, if I don’t see a form three seven nine B, you’ll both be in deep trouble.”

  “Flek off!” the second guard said. “We don’t need your flecking forms. We get the job done without them. And anyhow, these stinking humans were arrested when they came aboard on a shuttle. They weren’t abducted, so you can jog on back to your cozy little office.”

  “That’s your attitude, is it? All right. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Brent caught a flurry of movement, and then both guards dropped to their knees, gasping for air. Their assailant whirled around, lashing out with her foot and felling both guards with a single kick.

  “Hell’s teeth,” Brent whispered, turning to the others. “She took them both out. Just like that.”

  Vince stood. “Oh no. It isn’t the assassin again, is it?”

  Brent shook his head. “No. It’s Breamell.”

  “Who?” Ellen asked, jumping to her feet. “Is that supposed to mean something?”

  “She’s a friend,” Maisie replied. “Wait and see. I have a feeling you’ll get on like a house on fire.”

  As if on cue, Breamell appeared, peering in through the bars. “Hello again. Well, this is just like old times, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, we’re having a blast in here,” Brent drawled. “How about you open up the door and see for yourself?”

  “Of course.” Breamell produced a large bunch of keys. “Look at these beauties. I might have to keep them. I could catalog them according to type and then display them in my quarters. In a frame, perhaps.”

  “Knock yourself out,” Brent said. “But first, if you wouldn’t mind, we’d appreciate a demonstration of those little suckers in action.” He gestured toward the lock.

  Breamell rolled her eyes a little, but she bent to her task, sorting through the keys and applying them to the mechanism in turn. A few seconds later, she pulled the door open, and Brent stepped out into the corridor, rolling his shoulders. The others followed, stretching their limbs as tradition demanded.

  “What did you do to the guards?” Vince asked. “They’re still out cold.” His admiring grin faded. “They are still alive, aren’t they?”

  “I expect so,” Breamell said without looking around. “They’ll have sore heads when they wake up. And sore other parts too, but frankly, they deserve it after the way they treated you.” She let out a low growl. “That awful Beetfrump came into Records, and he was crowing about how you’d been locked up. But when he said that you’d come here to rescue Rawlgeeb, I let him have it. Back in the day, I won a prize for my skills in the martial arts, and I like to keep my hand in—as Beetfrump found out to his cost. I got him right in the–”

  “Please, spare me the details,” Brent interrupted, wincing. “And while we’re changing the subject, what’s the state of play? Is Rawlgeeb still missing? The last we heard, he was getting zinged over to an Andel-Kreit ship.”

  “Oh no!” Breamell cried. “Is that the one we’re heading for? I hope not.”

  “What do you mean?” Maisie asked. “We’re not heading toward anything.”

  “They took the station out of orbit,” Breamell replied. “The whole place is on a collision course with some ship called The Crumbling Skull or something.”

  A gurgling roar rang out from the neighboring cell, and a figure appeared at the door. “The Kreltonian Skull? Are you telling me that this space station is moving to attack my ship?”

  “That’s the one,” Breamell said brightly. “But we’re not going to attack it, so much as ram into it and smash it to smithereens.”

  The Andelian howled in rage. “Let me out of here! I must stop this at once!”

  “You must be Captain Stanch,” Maisie said. “We’ll help you if we can. Breamell, can you let him out?”

  “I suppose they might help our cause,” Breamell said uncertainly. She unlocked the cell and opened the door. “You are all free to go, but our first priority must be to rescue Rawlgeeb from your ship.”

  Stanch strode into the corridor, his jaw set firm. “My first priority is to save my ship. After that, I will find out who is responsible for this act of treachery and eviscerate him.”

  Brent scratched his chin. “Erm, I hardly like to bring this up, but there’s a strong possibility that it’s all my fault.”

  Stanch dismissed him with an imperious wave. “You take too much on yourself. You are a prisoner here.”

  “Yeah, but I did sort of suggest to the boss that he might edge the station a little closer to your ship.” He held up his hands. “Sorry about that. It was a mistake anyone could’ve made.”

  “Is it?” Stanch asked. “I have never visited your planet, but if this is how you do things, I shall make sure I never set foot on it.” He shook his head. “Whatever you claim, you are not in charge of this station. I need to find Fleet Admiral Squernshall.” He turned to Breamell. “What is the fastest route to the bridge?”

  “There are twenty-three decks between us and the bridge, but it hardly matters. You won’t get near it. It’s heavily guarded, and we’re at battle stations.”

  “Really?” Stanch looked up and down the corridor. “Then why aren’t the lights red?”

  Breamell shrugged. “I don’t know. What would be the point of that?”

  “No matter.” Stanch addressed the gaggle of officers who’d formed up behind him. “The Skull is in danger. This station will ram her unless we prevent it. We will storm the bridge and take control of the station, destroying it if necessary.”

  “Hold on a minute,” Breamell said, but Stanch continued as if she hadn’t spoken.

  “We have no time to take priso
ners. If we encounter resistance, and we will, fire to incapacitate.”

  “Fire with what?” one of the officers asked, his voice unsteady. “We are unarmed. Unprepared.”

  Stanch pointed to the unconscious guards. “They have parton pistols and stun guns. Grulb, stop your warbling then go and disarm them. We’ll take more weapons from the Gloabons we meet.” Grulb did as he was told, and Stanch grabbed the bunch of keys from the door. “We’ll use these. There must be a weapons locker near the brig. Any questions?”

  None of the Andelians replied.

  “Yes,” Breamell snapped. “I have a question. Are you out of your mind? You can’t storm the bridge. It will cause mayhem. And most of the Gloabons on the station are civilians like me. They’re not armed.”

  “Then they are in no danger,” Stanch replied. He waved his officers onward. “Let’s go.” He set off at a brisk run, grabbing a pistol from Grulb as he passed, and a moment later, the corridor was empty. The only sound was the distant rumble of boots on the metal floor.

  “That went as well as can be expected,” Brent said cheerfully. “You know, I thought that Stanch character was a little odd at first, but I like the guy. He shows great promise.”

  “What have we done?” Breamell covered her mouth with her hand. “I wanted some action, but this? It’s all going to spiral out of control. Anything could happen.”

  “Just a suggestion,” Ellen began, “but we could head to the shuttle and go back to Earth.”

  Brent pursed his lips. “As a plan, it has some merits, at least one of which is that we get to stay alive. On the other hand–”

  “We have to stay,” Maisie interrupted. “We’re a part of this mess, Brent, and we have to put things right.”

  “Definitely,” Vince put in. “And we still haven’t found Rawlgeeb.”

  “All right. Let’s tag along after our Andelian friends.” Brent gestured along the corridor. “Breamell, take me to your leader.”

  Maisie tutted under her breath. “For God’s sake, Brent. Now?”

  “What?” Brent offered Breamell an encouraging smile. “Go ahead. We have some ground to catch up.”

  “We could zing to the bridge,” Ellen said. “That way, we’ll beat the Andelians and limit the damage.”

  Breamell clapped her hands together. “Yes. Let’s do that.” She pulled a handset from her pocket. “I can take us as far as the entrance. When we get there, leave the door to me. I know an access code.”

  “Sure,” Maisie said. “Let’s go.”

  CHAPTER 30

  Aboard The Kreltonian Skull – Andromeda Class Battle Cruiser

  Official Status: Hopeless.

  Ship’s Log: Collision Course with The Gamulon – Skeleton Crew.

  “I just had a thought,” Klegg said.

  “Really?” Zeb asked. “Is this an appropriate moment to be taking up new pastimes?”

  Klegg smiled. “Yeah, it’s the perfect time as it happens. You see, I was wondering if there wasn’t some way of stopping The Gamulon from walloping straight into us, and I remembered my cousin Lumf. He had this skimmer, do you see? Very proud of it, he was. But we got sick of him going on about it.”

  “I know the feeling,” Dex said. “Get to the point, Klegg.”

  “Well, we wanted to stop Lumf’s skimmer running, so one night we shoved a pizzle marrow up its exhaust port.”

  “And that prevented the engine from starting,” Zeb said. “What a lovely story. What a charming childhood you must have had.”

  Klegg shook his head vigorously. “No, it made the engine sort of blow up. The moment Lumf turned the key, the whole skimmer vanished in a ball of flame.” He sniffed. “I miss him sometimes. Poor old Lumf. He was a bit thick, you know.”

  Dex blinked. “You don’t say.”

  “The point is,” Klegg went on, “couldn’t we do the same thing with that space station? I mean, it must have an exhaust port, so why don’t we shove something up it? We could fire something into it and block up the works good and proper.”

  “Wouldn’t work,” Stimps said knowledgeably. “It’s not the same. Your cousin’s skimmer was switched off, but The Gamulon is moving already. Exhaust will be shooting out of the ports like nobody’s business, so you’d never get anything inside them. Whatever you fired, it would get pushed away.” He patted Klegg on the shoulder. “Well done for trying, but it’s no good. Everything goes outward on a spaceship, on account of there being nothing outside to suck in. Exhaust ports, waste chutes, gas vents–they all chuck stuff out into space.”

  “Interesting,” Zeb said, a new note of enthusiasm in his voice. “Stimps, you might have given me an idea.”

  Stimps grimaced. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean anything. I was just shooting the breeze. You don’t need to flog me or anything. I’ll keep quiet from now on.”

  “No, it’s a good thing,” Zeb insisted. “Dex, you remember I told you about the problems with the waste chute on level B three? About the unidentified organism growing inside it?”

  Dex shrugged. “What about it? There’s no point blasting a load of festering garbage at the Gloabons. They’d shoot it down in a second.”

  “Exactly.” Zeb clicked his fingers. “But what would happen if we opened all the internal doors on that level and then reversed the chute’s mechanism?”

  “That would empty the chute into the deck. It would be a disaster. The whole level would become…” He let his voice trail away.

  “An alien biohazard,” Zeb said proudly. “And what would happen next?”

  “Contamination alert,” Nailsea said. “Time to scram.”

  “Colorfully put,” Zeb replied. “In more technical terms, the automated alert system would be activated, and that includes the launch of the emergency warning beacons.”

  Dex plucked at his lower lip. “And everyone knows those beacons can’t be triggered intentionally. The system is foolproof, and it’s standard across all fleets. The Gloabons would never dare to ignore the beacons. They’d have to back off.” Dex let a menacing chuckle escape from his lips. “We’d be a plague ship,” he murmured. “The scourge of the known galaxy.”

  “Arr, that we would, Cap’n,” Zeb growled. “That we would.”

  Dex cast a disapproving glance at Zeb, but this was no time for an argument. “Helm, bring us to a halt. Tactical, bring down those shields and take weapons offline. We have to make this look like a genuine emergency. Comms, as soon as the shields are down, make sure all channels are clear.”

  “Aye, sir,” Klegg, Nailsea, and Cricklade called out in unison.

  “I have the doors locked open on level B three,” Zeb said. “Standing by to reverse waste chute.”

  Dex leaned forward in his seat. “Very well. Make it flow!”

  “Aye, sir. Waste material dispersing across the deck. The cameras are picking it up as it passes the doors. I can put it on screen but…” Zeb cleared his throat. “Frankly, I wouldn’t advise it. Ew!”

  A strident siren blared across the bridge, closely followed by a recorded announcement:

  “Warning! Alien biohazard alert level one. Contamination detected on level B three. Containment failure. Emergency beacons launched. Abandon ship.”

  “Yes!” Dex hissed. “It’s working. Have the Gloabons reacted yet?”

  “Wait a moment,” Zeb replied. “Give them time to respond.”

  Dex thumped his chair’s armrest. “Time is one thing we don’t have. Is it working or not?”

  Zeb looked up from his console, his eyebrows arched. “The Gamulon is slowing. I believe that they intend to change course.”

  The crew’s cheer was loud and long.

  “We did it!” Dex crowed. “We faced down a massive space station, and we won!”

  The recorded announcement cut across their triumphant chatter:

  “Warning! Alien biohazard alert level two. Red alert. Abandon ship. This ship will purge in ten minutes. Thank you for installing the Bio-Max three hundred, the finest bio
hazard alert system in the galaxy.”

  “Oh, we’ve got the BM three hundred,” Nailsea said. “Nice bit of kit. We had the old two-fifty back on The Triskonite Elbow, and it kept firing off every time we served curry. I was making a snot vulture vindaloo one day and…well, it doesn’t matter. I’m sure you don’t want to hear my space stories.”

  “You were on The Elbow?” Dex asked. “I thought it was destroyed with all hands.”

  Nailsea looked down. “Long time ago. Like I said, you don’t want to waste your time on my stories.”

  Dex blinked, looking around as if seeing the bridge for the first time. “So, the ship is going to be purged. That’s…an unexpected development.”

  “Dex, I’m sorry,” Zeb said. “I didn’t think the system would go to level two. The contamination in the chute must’ve been much more serious than we thought.” He shook his head slowly. “There’s nothing we can do. Once the biohazard alert system has been activated, the process cannot be stopped.”

  Dex stood, his chin jutting forward. “So be it. Abandon ship. Take to the escape pods.”

  “But The Skull!” Stimps protested. “We can’t leave her. Requesting permission to stay with the old girl to the end, sir.”

  “Denied,” Dex said. “The ship won’t be destroyed, only purged of all life. We’ll be able to reclaim her, eventually. If they ever forgive us that is.”

  “Sir, I have the fleet coming through,” Cricklade announced. “They are standing by to pick up survivors.”

  “There you go then,” Dex said. “You’ll be all right. Everyone, abandon the ship, and that’s a direct order. Head for the escape pods now.”

  The crew remained in their seats, and Dex growled under his breath. “For flek’s sake, follow me.” He headed for the door, and as it slid open, the crew fell in behind him.

  CHAPTER 31

  Gloabon Space Station The Gamulon

  Brent checked to his right and to his left, then a relieved smile played across his features. “You all made it. Great.”

  “Why wouldn’t we?” Breamell asked. “The zinger on this station is the best there is.”