Inside Out

by Thorne Moore

  ‘Wasn’t too taxing,’ said Selden, relinquishing his place to Siegfried, who sat down heavily. Yasmin delicately stepped back from Tim’s shoulder. Tod nodded at her. ‘And Smith,’ he added, turning on his heel. ‘Are you reading the superbitch? Is she scanning us?’

  ‘Doesn’t seem to be so far. She’s fixed on the Tripoli.’

  ‘Are you picking up any other ship in the area?’

  Smith was studying the data intently. ‘Nothing anywhere near. One or two blips far out. Do you want me to identify them?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Tod. ‘Buy yourself some more play time. Mich, get out of that gear. The rest of you: you might as well stay here until we’re safely out of this but keep quiet and out of our way. Tim, make some coffee. Abigail, help him.’

  Abigail stared at the commander, hating him. She wasn’t going to wait on him or help the young rat who’d tricked her back onto the ship. But their present situation stood everything on its head. It was a question of dealing with the day, the hour, the moment. She followed Tim into the tiny galley.

  ‘And Abigail doesn’t have the first idea how to make coffee,’ said Tod, sarcastically. ‘You’d better show her, Tim.’

  She turned back, furious, but she met Tod’s eyes, and understood. She didn’t have to like it, but she’d do it. ‘How should I know? Go on then, Tim, if you must. What do I have to do?’

  ‘Right,’ said Tim. He looked sick. As sick as she’d been. ‘Well…’

  ‘Acropolis,’ said Smith. ‘That’s one of the blips.’

  ‘Go on.’

  A long pause while they listened to the muffled coffee-making tutorial.

  ‘Freiheit,’ said Smith. ‘We’re not looking for another unscheduled pick-up after all this, are we?

  Tod waved him quiet. ‘Keep looking.’

  Smith kept looking. ‘The Sarah’ he said, then, ‘The Tarquin.’

  ‘Where?’ snapped Tod, staring at the scanner screen. ‘The Tarquin. Where is she?’

  Smith read out the bearings.

  Tod looked at Addo.

  ‘No, Tod,’ said the Major. ‘We haven’t even assessed our own damage yet. First thing, we get ourselves out of a Ragnox superbitch’s zone of interest.’

  Tod hesitated for a second, before nodding. ‘Of course.’

  He waited, arms folded, for another minute or two, then turned on his heel and marched to join Smith at the Ultima. ‘Have you still got her?’

  ‘The Tarquin? Yes. Not that there’s anything to get. She’s not giving anything away.’

  ‘No, she wouldn’t. She has the same shielding system we have.’

  ‘She does? Oh well!’

  ‘Tod,’ said Addo.

  ‘Yes!’ snapped Tod. ‘I know. Isn’t it time to shift? We’ve been on this course long enough.’

  ‘Am I making these decisions, or you?’ asked the Major.

  ‘You. I can still express an opinion.’

  Addo sighed. ‘Tucker. We’re going to take a glide, looping for as long as she’ll hold. Then we’ll want Q drive with all thrusters.’

  ‘Q drive’s on-line and ready, thrusters all responding. Go for it.’

  Instant silence.

  Silence except for the gulps accompanying overturned stomachs. The ship seemed to fold around them, the floor coming up to meet them. The passengers grabbed for support. Merrit heaved. Clytemnestra sat down heavily. In the galley, Abigail dropped the coffee pot.

  Tod stood motionless, watching the monitors on the command console. The stars on the visual monitor had become a chaotic scrawl of light.

  ‘She’s losing it,’ came Tucker’s voice.

  ‘She’s got a minute or two more,’ said Addo. ‘Stand by.’

  They stood by.

  ‘On,’ said Addo.

  The ship screamed into life. They all lurched, retuning to a new sense of balance, as everything steadied. Then the ship creaked ominously, followed by a hollow reverberation. Tod raised his head sharply.

  ‘Yow!’ said Mich.

  ‘Fuck it!’ said Siegfried, thumping his console. Only Addo refused to be ruffled.

  ‘Port lateral again,’ said Tucker. ‘There go my repairs. It must have taken a debris strike.’

  ‘All right,’ said Tod. ‘Find out the worst. Mich, get down there and give him a hand. Major, are we screwed up?’

  Addo shook his head. ‘Not quite the course I intended, but at this stage any course will do. I can correct it in increments.’

  ‘Okay.’ Tod glanced again at the scanner. ‘The superbitch isn’t interested. So far. Let’s all breathe. Abigail, shall we forget the coffee? Tim, come on out. It’s over.’

  ‘Yes. Right,’ said Tim. He had recovered from his paralysis, but still looked sick.

  ‘He’s okay,’ said Siegfried.

  ‘No, he’s not, but he will be. Major, you all right for a bit?’

  Addo smiled. ‘I’m just fine. You sort things out.’

  Tod turned to his passengers. ‘You lot, clear off. Cluttering up my Flight Control.’ He pressed the door controls.

  Outside, David was sitting on the floor.

  ‘Boy! What are you doing there? All you had to do was ask to come in.’

  David got to his feet and pushed his glasses up. ‘It’s time.’

  ‘Time?’

  ‘His medication?’ suggested Yasmin.

  ‘Oh, your medication. First things first, eh? The damage to my ship can just—’

  ‘Twenty-eight minor dents in the port-side deflectors,’ said David. ‘Buckling in the lateral support anchor—’

  ‘Yes? Right. Come on. Let’s get your pill.’ Tod led David away. ‘Twenty-eight dents? You must draw me a map.’

  ‘Three hair line fractures in the vacuum struts.’ David trotted after him down the corridor.

  ‘I need a drink,’ said Yasmin.

  ‘Yeah!’ said Merrit. They trooped out, bemused to find B-Deck just as they’d left it; in need of a good valeting but otherwise whole. They were at a loss what to do, but one by one they gathered back in the observation lounge, to stare at the screen, now showing nothing but stars, and wonder if any of it had been real.

  Last in, Yasmin picked her way through broken glass and produced two bottles. ‘Anyone saying no?’

  No one was saying no.

  ‘So what do you think went wrong?’ asked Abigail.

  ‘Something that Faber screwed up,’ said Merrit. ‘He hasn’t got the bottle, has he? Pathetic.’

  ‘Oh shut up,’ said Abigail. ‘Whatever it was, if it floored Tim, it would have turned you to quivering jelly.’

  ‘I could handle it,’ declared Merrit. They all looked at him. ‘Hell, I could!’ He hastily refilled his glass but stopped with it halfway to his lips. The ship had gone silent again.

  They all froze, the adrenaline beginning to pump again. Then Selden sat down. ‘He’s just breaking up our trail a bit.’

  Smith shook his head. ‘Good as far as it goes, but the things they could do with that Ultima bring tears to my eyes. So, here’s how it was. We go sneaking in the wake of the Pelican, which was hunting for a Ragnox freighter called the Tripoli. Instead, we finish up with the wrecked Tripoli and a cloud of dust that was a completely different ship called the Vlad. Then Uncle Tod gets hot and bothered when I detect another ship called the Tarquin. Any thoughts?’

  ‘The Vlad and the Tarquin. Tod’s talked about them,’ said Yasmin. ‘The Caron brothers; they hunt together. I suppose if you find one on the scene, you’d naturally be on the watch for the other. And now we’ve eliminated the Vlad – I assume that part of the shambles was our doing – we might expect the Tarquin to come seeking revenge.’

  ‘Oh great!’ said Merrit. ‘So, if we haven’t got a fucking great superbitch charging at us, we’ve got some other maniac screaming for our blood and guts.’

  ‘That sounds about it,’ said Seldon.

  Silence settled while they all drank and considered the situation. It wasn’t encouraging.
<
br />   Yasmin opened the second bottle.

  ‘I wish they’d just hurry up and get us to Triton,’ said Clytemnestra, at last. ‘I can’t see why we have to keep diverting.’

  ‘It’s a DNA thing,’ said Smith. He turned with the others as David appeared in the doorway, looking as blank as ever.

  ‘Had your pill?’ said Smith.

  ‘Yes,’ said David, and sat down, as if obeying instructions.

  ‘Where were you when it was all happening?’

  ‘In the infirmary.’

  ‘No,’ said Yasmin. ‘He doesn’t mean when Tod was giving you your pill. Before.’

  But David looked blank. ‘With the ship.’

  ‘Totally gaga,’ mocked Merrit.

  The doors slid open again and Tim walked in.

  ‘Hey look, it’s the hero of the hour,’ said Merrit.

  ‘Shut up!’ said Abigail.

  Tim ignored the jibe and headed for the bar, filling a glass and emptying it in one swig. He refilled it.

  ‘Any more news on the superbitch?’ asked Yasmin.

  Tim shrugged. ‘She’s not following us. Wouldn’t matter if she did.’ He filled his glass for the third time. ‘Tod could deal with her. He can deal with anything.’

  ‘Don’t drink any more,’ said Abigail.

  ‘Why? You think I’m a baby? You think I can’t take it?’

  ‘Okay, drink the bloody stuff!’

  ‘What happened in there?’ asked Yasmin.

  ‘What happened?’ Tim laughed. ‘We got him. Zap! Pow! Bang! Gone in a puff of smoke. No one messes with the Heloise.’ It was obvious he’d started drinking before he entered the lounge. He was clinging to the bar to steady himself.

  ‘You mean the Vlad?’ said Yasmin cautiously.

  ‘Boom! Pol Caron.’ Tim giggled as he reached for the bottle again. ‘Not a chance.’

  ‘Hey, hey!’ Mich came in, explosively. Emaciated and anaemic to the point of transparency, he filled the available space with frenetic energy, like a poltergeist. ‘Yeah! Right in. In and out. Just like that. No way they catch us. All ours.’ He burst into peels of insane laughter. ‘Dead dogs. We saw them off. Monkeys. Shit.’ He took them in with uncomprehending eyes and reached with uncertain aim for the bottle Tim was gripping.

  ‘Fuck off,’ said Tim. ‘S’mine.’

  Mich laughed again, even more crazily. ‘What’s in it then? Milk? Milk for a mother’s boy? Fucked up, good and proper, didn’t you? Couldn’t do your job, could you? Pissing yourself. Oh, oh, oh.’

  ‘You shut your mouth,’ said Tim, taking an ineffectual swing at him.

  Mich dodged backwards easily enough, though he managed to knock over two stools in the process. ‘Got no guts, have you, baby boy?’

  ‘What would you know?’ snarled Tim, trying for him again though Mich was beyond his arm’s reach. ‘You’ve got not brain. It’s so addled, it – it wouldn’t – you wouldn’t know –anything!’

  ‘Know you’ve got no guts.’

  Tim, by chance rather than calculation, landed on Mich, knocking him to the ground. They rolled, grappling and snarling and hissing at each other. Smith hopped neatly out of the way.

  ‘Oh for God’s sake, somebody stop them,’ said Abigail, in disgust.

  On cue, Tod appeared, taking in the scene at a glance. He strode across to the two assailants, plucking them both up by the scruff and banging their heads together. The impact was enough to knock the fight out of them.

  ‘Stand up!’

  Tim stood passive, but Mich wriggled free. ‘No guts. No fucking guts!’

  ‘I’ve got guts!’ yelled Tim, coming back to life. ‘I’ll show you if I’ve got guts!’

  ‘Stop!’ said Tod, with a tone that brought Tim up short. Mich was immune and danced in front of Tim, baiting him with lunatic gestures.

  Tod smacked him hard, sending Mich sprawling. He pulled him to his feet yet again. ‘Whatever you’re on this time, Mich, go and sleep it off, or I’ll put you off this ship right now.’ He spoke very softly. ‘You understand?’

  Mich blinked, twitching, trying to surface into something like sanity.

  ‘Just lock yourself in a cupboard out of our way, till you’ve come down far enough to be of use.’ Tod stood, waiting, ready to strike again, as Mich reeled to the door, with one final raised finger in Tim’s direction.

  Tim lurched forward again and was caught by Tod’s iron grip.

  ‘I told you to go down and work on the seals on D-Deck, not come in here and get drunk.’

  ‘I’m going,’ said Tim sullenly.

  ‘Yes, you are. Are you capable of doing the work?’

  ‘Yes!’ Tim was suddenly incensed again. ‘I can do it. I can do anything! I don’t care what he says. I’ve got guts.’

  ‘Right! Tim has guts. If you’d like me to demonstrate this fact, I’ll do so by spreading them out on the floor for all to see.’

  Tim flinched.

  ‘That’s a promise!’ said Tod. ‘Now go down!’

  Tim staggered to the door, tripping over David’s feet in passing. Tim cursed and David looked questioningly at Tod.

  ‘David, I gave you work to do!’ snapped Tod. ‘Get on with it.’

  David obediently trotted out after Tim.

  Tod lit a cigarette and glared at the others. ‘Anyone else want to take me on?’

  ‘No, we surrender unconditionally,’ said Yasmin.

  ‘Good! Then get this place cleaned up. This deck’s a pig sty. Get off your lazy backsides and do something useful for a change.’

  They looked at each other anxiously.

  ‘And Smith can cook the dinner,’ said Tod. ‘Lots of it.’

  ‘You’re the commander,’ said Smith.

  ‘So I am. This is because I am a megalomaniac. I demand nothing except absolute obedience. Is that too much to ask?’

  ‘I think we’ve learned not to question anything,’ said Yasmin.

  ‘Very wise. Don’t question my command, my talents, or my judgement. They are all flawless.’

  ‘Could have fooled me,’ said Smith, under his breath.

  Chapter 22

  Yasmin watched Tod disappear into one of the many rooms along the approach to Flight Control. She bit her lip, nerving herself, then followed him, halting in the doorway to look in.

  He was standing on a chair, checking the conduits that ran across the ceiling.

  ‘Looking to hang yourself?’

  ‘Haven’t got time.’ He finished his inspection, then jumped down. ‘Just tracing the fault lines. Looking for burn-outs.’

  ‘Good to see the master mucking in.’

  ‘Ha!’ He scribbled some notes and swept on into the next room. ‘Not much choice. Tucker’s up to his neck on D, Kwame’s at the controls, and the others, despite my very explicit orders, are getting drunk as skunks.’

  ‘Not entirely in celebration.’

  He said nothing, studying a chart intently.

  ‘Something went wrong,’ she suggested.

  ‘That’s your informed assessment, is it?’

  ‘It’s everyone’s assessment, informed or otherwise. What happened? You were expecting the Pelican, and you found the Vlad instead?’

  ‘Something like that. We’re still analysing the Ultima readings. The Tarquin and the Vlad were onto the same target as us. It happens. They got in first. Took out the escort fighter between them and the Tarquin set off in pursuit of the Pelican. She’d fled the scene. The first wise move her crew ever made. And almost certainly the last. The Pelican is probably in the same state as the Tripoli by now.’

  ‘So when you arrived, the Vlad turned on you.’

  ‘Would have done, if he’d seen us coming. Tim was on the weapons console—’

  ‘You were asking a boy to kill?’

  Tod was scribbling notes furiously. ‘It wouldn’t have been a kill. We were set for an incapacitating shot. It wasn’t until we were coming in that we identified the Vlad. You don’t negotiate with the Ca
rons. I ordered Tim to set for kill. Of course he couldn’t do it. As you say, he’s a child. I took over, finished the job. Perhaps, I very slightly went for overkill. By then we were far too close for comfort; got caught in the kickback.’

  ‘Was it all worth it?’

  ‘Four acthridium cells? Anyone would call that a very good haul.’

  ‘I mean, was it worth risking the Heloise, for the satisfaction of obliterating the Vlad? That was what the overkill was about, wasn’t it? I know a white whale when I see one.’

  Tod slammed his notepad down. ‘Don’t try to amuse yourself with this little riddle.’

  ‘I’m not amused. We’ve just sailed through a sickening slaughterhouse. Nothing to laugh about.’

  ‘Welcome to the Outer Circles. Our species, in or out, we’re all killers, by commission or omission, but out here we’re honest about it. Out here, we blow people apart, instead of driving them to suicide with innuendo.’

  Yasmin took it like a slap on the face, as it was intended. ‘All right. Just tell me, are you going after the Tarquin now?’

  ‘Whatever we choose to do, it’s no business of the cargo.’

  ‘It is our business. If you want to play Captain Bligh or Captain Hook, we can take it, but if you’re going to play Captain Ahab, that obviously reduces our chances of surviving the voyage.’

  ‘And you’d care?’

  ‘Maybe I don’t care if I survive, but I’d rather not see Abigail and Merrit and Nessy and the others, even Jo Jo, reduced to liquidised offal for the sake of some petty vendetta.’

  He raised a hand, stopped himself, clenching his fist. ‘Live with it,’ he snapped. ‘Or die with it. Whatever, it will be worth it.’ He swept her aside and was off, down the corridor.

  Digging her nails into her palms, Yasmin stalked back to the observation lounge. With great deliberation, she poured herself a large vodka.

  ‘Fucking marvellous, isn’t it,’ said Merrit, lounging on one of the sofas. ‘Stuck here with a bunch of incompetents. If you ask me, someone has fucked up big time.’

  ‘Merrit,’ said Yasmin, draining her glass. ‘You are a pathetic little shit.’

  Addo glanced up from his controls as Tod entered Flight Control. ‘Everything okay?’

  ‘Just wonderful.’ Tod assessed each of the monitors in turn. Then he kicked a chair round, sank into it, folded his arms on the nearest console and buried his head in them with a groan.