by G. P. Moss
He stares in dismay.
“You have got to be kidding!”
*
Billy Duke offers his manky hand, outstretched in a gross display of fake friendship.
“No, I’m all right, thanks.”
“Suit yourself, alien. Patricia requests your timely presence on Beta Zero.”
“Does she now? Let us get 1 thing straight from the start, shall we? This is my planet so you are the aliens here! See that building over there? Yes, the empty hangar; go and wait there, and do not touch anything!”
Woody Carson spits a nervous question.
“But if it’s empty, how can we touch anything?”
“Are you all this stupid?”
“Yes, sir!”
A collective chorus.
All except Billy Duke, who is spitting bricks at this young upstart’s arrogant cheek.
As the gang zigzag towards the hangar, Percy turns to Damien and Pedro.
“Well, what are you waiting for; you as well!”
Pedro stands as tall as his lime green spacesuit will allow.
“As fighter pilots, we expect to be treated with respect, not herded along with that bunch of space wannabe no hopers.”
Percy eyes them with suspicion.
“Wait a minute. Your space fighters are Whistler ships! I have a, erm, a friend, sort of acquaintance really, who is looking for a pilot named Poppy. You haven’t seen her by any chance?”
Pedro is on guard but sees no harm in sharing what is basically old news.
“Last we saw, she was flying with an Earthling, Captain Ariel Hope.”
“Great, thank you. Wait there, both of you!”
Before he wets his pants with delight, Percy forgets his meeting with Patricia, rushing instead to the side room in the communications centre.
“Yes, what is it. Have they set off yet?”
“Yes, my lord, Ariel Hope is on her way, speeding towards your dastardly trap on her mission of mercy. That is not why I called. I believe, my lord, that riding merrily along in Beta 2 is someone you have been looking for; Poppy!”
“Well, well, my oh my, how the circle goes around and around, not like a square at all. Great work, Percy; you shall be rewarded if this is true. If this is fake news, I shall, of course, annihilate you and your entire planet.”
“Yes, my lord.”
He wishes he’d kept his mouth shut now, just in case she’s not onboard.
*
Percy’s aboard Beta Zero.
“So, you are the loud mouth I had the displeasure of conversing with?”
“While you are on my ship, you will refrain from unpleasantries!”
“Technically, this is my ship now.”
Patricia softens.
“Now, now, let us not be hasty in our mutual condemnation; I require some modifications to my ship.”
“What modifications?”
“I hear you are arms dealers so I would like my weapons systems reinstated to full tyrannical capabilities!”
“No problem; how will you pay?”
“Well, you know those fine gentlemen you met earlier?”
“Those manky, younger than they look scruffy old duffers?”
“Yes, they’re the ones.”
“What about them?”
“I offer them to you as lifelong slaves!”
“And what possible use will they be to me, eh? Eh?”
“Offer them asylum, tell them the Universe is about to end and this is the only safe planet then give them the worst jobs none of you lot like doing!”
“But we already have people for that!”
“Do you like beer and sausage?”
“Never heard of it.”
“Well what do you do around here to relax?”
“We read technical manuals and strive to make better weapons.”
“So, no music, alcohol and greasy food then?”
“Patricia, these things, I know nothing of so what are you suggesting?”
“What I am suggesting, fine fellow, is it is high time you and your inhabitants had some rest and relaxation. Here is the deal. You refurbish my ship with the latest weapons technology, and in exchange I will instruct the Space Dogs to open a bar pub, serving you with beer and sausage.”
“Space Dogs; that’s what those manky zigzagging losers are called?”
“Well, they were The Space Dogs Tricycle Gang until an unfortunate chance encounter with Larry and Barry Longface saw their tricycle trikes requisitioned by the evil space pirates.”
Percy ponders this for a moment.
It’s true; the place could do with livening up a bit and he has spare weapons chips, old malfunctioning ones, that he can install.
He holds out his hand before pulling it back in.
“Sorry, I forgot; you’re AI.”
“That does not mean I am a pushover; stick to the deal, matey.”
“Of course.”
He spins on his heel, grinning from ear to ear.
A new bar pub, whatever that is, fully staffed, in exchange for some manky old faulty chips.
*
Percy and Damien, forgotten for now by the deliriously happy toe rag, Percy Bump, are befriended by a technician, admiring their fighter ships.
“Ah, classic Whistler fighters, I see, all right, all right, yes, yes, indeed, sleek and powerful! I suppose you will be joining Mr Whistler as soon as you’ve rested here?”
Damien is gobsmacked.
“You know him?”
“Oh, yes for sure I do all right, all right, know him very well I do. Why, only recently, I installed high grade weapons chips to his magnificent Raven Blue Class 1; a fine specimen indeed, yes, yes, all right, all right, I did indeed.”
Damien has an idea.
“Ah, yes, we will of course be joining Mr Whistler soon. For now though, would you be an awfully great fellow and install high grade weapons chips in our sleek and powerful fighter ships please? Mr Whistler will be eternally grateful and I will recommend he recommends you for a meritorious conduct award.”
“Oh, yes all right, all right, yes, yes I will, straight away. Meritorious conduct award you say, oh my, oh my, never heard of that, sounds splendid, all right, all right I’ll do it now!”
Damien wants to take a long, deep breath for the obliging fellow.
With their ships fully functioning again, they will be able to escape the punishing schedule of avoiding death at the hands of Patricia and her manky gang.
Chapter Eight
Planet Whistler (Still in the wrong place)
Admiral Ed Hope storms across City Square, on a mission to confront his son for expressively disobeying his orders.
Johnny tenses as his father looms above him.
“I forbade you to arm the Spacies, and what did you do but only go and sneak behind my back and visit Maurice Mickleby to ask the same of him!”
“But he listened to me and agreed the quickest way to turn Spacies into Space Marines is to give them some practice!”
“If left to your devices, it will only end in tears or worse!”
Johnny feels he has a valid reason for wanting as many people armed as possible but he will not expose himself to any more ridicule.
Edward Hope calms down enough to leave on a high note.
For himself, anyway.
“Look, Gob...er, Johnny, it is not necessarily the arming of the Spacies I have the biggest problem with, rather you going behind my back to that kind idiot in Whistler Castle!”
“But you told me to go to him and not bother you with any more Spacies stuff!”
“Well, I suppose that is true. However, it has all been sorted out. You may keep the weapons but they will remain inoperable.”
“What do you mean, father?”
“I mean, right, get your mini ray gun and fire at that fine statue over there.”
“You mean that fine specimen?”
“Yes, that priceless piece of craftsmanship. You will see what I mean when
I say ‘inoperable’.”
Johnny takes aim.
The power light shines bright.
Admiral Hope clenches his cheeks, raising his arm to stop Johnny’s shot.
‘PEW! CRACK! SMASH!’
The priceless piece of ancient Whistler craftsmanship lies shattered in tiny pieces.
Ed Hope’s face cheeks turn a blistering red as he shouts across City Square.
“Send the Chief Technical Officer to my office. NOW!”
As he marches furiously back to his office, Admiral Hope wonders exactly how many gardeners he can employ without them falling over each other.
He will have to devise an alternative form of punishment.
He has it.
Cleaning the white Castle walls!
*
Planet Banan (Carribio galaxy)
Broad Claude, multi-factory owner and self-styled, bare-chested leader of planet Banan, stretches his muscular arms as wide as they’ll go, reminding himself that all he sees, he owns.
His huge, broad bald head, freshly polished this morning with high-grade banana wax, glints and sparkles like sun on glass from the glorious heat enjoyed on this hot, enriching planet.
Always on the lookout for unwilling fresh citizens to populate his factories, he looks forward to his meeting with Slick Stick Silas, self-styled, bare-chested when warm enough leader of the feared and reluctantly respected gang of grabber nabbers, loosely and collectively known as the space pirates of Mu.
Slick has reportedly heard, from some fearsome freighter pirates based in the Bounty galaxy, that a planet, recently slung by a vicious cleansing ice storm to the furthest edge of the Milky Way gas clouds, is ripe for the taking.
Plans will be made.
Deals will be struck.
Promises will be made.
Threats will be issued.
Just another day in the dastardly, highly questionable and piraty life of Broad Claude of Banan.
*
Planet Bump Minor
Lying in her mini-hospital bed, Yvette manages to flick open her eyes and, slowly, like waking from a disturbing dream, begins to move her lips.
Though no one else, apart from the unconscious Stevie Lo, is in the room, she tries to form words but no sound emerges. Exhausted with the effort, she closes her eyes.
*
Damien hovers around the workshop as the helpful engineer, along with some techie tech droids, reinstalls the Whistler ships’ weapons systems.
The engineer loves to chat.
“It’s been all go, go, go, indeed, yes, yes, indeed, indeed, it has, oh, yes, yes, it has indeed, what with the other Earthlings and all, oh yes, yes, indeed it has.”
“What other Earthlings?”
“Oh, yes, yes, indeed, a couple of patients brought to the medical centre, dreadful job, oh yes, yes, indeed such a dreadful, awful job, indeed, indeed, yes. Oh, yes, that poor Ariel, indeed, she must be going out of her mind with worry, oh yes, yes, indeed!”
Without waiting for further, duplicated information, Damien races to find the medical centre.
Why he wants contact once more with Ariel Hope, he does not know but there is unfinished business with her, one way or another.
But he cannot fight on 2 fronts.
He must take sides or wander the Universe forever looking over his shoulder.
*
Yvette wants to scream a warning as a familiar face from the soon to be famous though word is already spreading, Battle of Minstrels Gate, flies into her startled view without invitation.
She cannot, though she hears a soft whisper escape from her lips.
Her head will not move but her eyes dart frantically in a frustrated attempt to communicate.
Damien holds his hands in the air, signalling for her not to worry but it could also come across as ‘do not dare make a sound while I stealthily just pop over here and kill Stevie Lo’.
Thankfully, he decides not to engage in the latter activity.
“Where are Ariel and Poppy?”
Yvette’s eyes thunder to each corner and back in a terrified display of helplessness.
“It’s all right, I mean them no harm. I just found out Mr Whistler was recently here; I came to warn them.”
Yvette whispers but it’s too faint for Damien to make out any kind of meaning.
He steps closer, bending an ear down close to Yvette’s mouth.
Taken out of context, this could look downright creepy to any casual passer-by.
With enormous effort, Yvette manages to release the words.
“It is too late. They have gone. Into a trap.”
For Damien, previous sworn enemy of Ariel and Poppy, these desperate words of resigned sorrow, unexpectedly chill his heart to its core.
It both surprises and elates him that he is making the right decision.
“Do not worry, rest now; I will try to save them with all my power and mighty reserves of strength!”
Her eyes beckon him once more.
“What is it?”
“Stop talking and get on with it.”
A faint smile plays on her lips as the finest thread of hope is dangled in front of her near-lifeless body.
*
Damien finds Pedro in the hangar, inspecting the newly completed work on the Whistler fighters.
Breathless from his mercy dash, Damien implores Pedro to climb into his spaceship and join him in his search for Ariel and Poppy.
Pedro is unconvinced, on many levels.
“But they could be anywhere by now; the galaxy is huge!”
Damien is not taking no, or any derivative of it, for an answer.
“I shall ask the engineer!”
“Might take a while to get an answer, seeing as there’s a buy 1 get 1 free offer on most of his words!”
Swiftly locating the helpful and word-loving engineer, Damien breathlessly asks in which direction was Ariel heading.
“Ah, yes, yes, indeed I know that, indeed, indeed I do, yes, yes, of course!”
“Well?”
“They flew north, north, west, west, yes, yes, they did, they did, indeed, indeed they did, yes.”
“Is that north-north west, or north-west west? Please, it is vitally important we have the correct coordinates!”
“Yes, yes, indeed, indeed!”
“Well?”
The 1st, yes, yes!”
Damien pats the engineer’s shoulder.
“Thank you!”
Sprinting back to Pedro, he’s elated with the news.
“I have the coordinates, sort of anyway. They went north-north west.”
Pedro looks away, his recent thoughts about Poppy now seemingly a distant memory.
“Why should I risk my neck helping an Earthling woman who attacked us, and a Whistler traitor?”
“I have been thinking, a lot. Poppy had just had enough of the tyranny, that is all. Think about it; she could have easily finished us off at Minstrels Gate but let us go. She meant us no harm. Neither of them did. Mr Whistler has betrayed both of us; we owe him nothing. Please, help me out here; I shall go alone if necessary but 2 of us stand a better chance.”
“I stand a great chance of survival staying here!”
“And what life will you have, always looking over your shoulder? Make a stand; it is time we chose the side of good over evil for a change.”
“I must be out of my mind but all right, I know it is time to choose. If it’s too late to save them though, we’re bugging out of there like moths after a power cut; agreed?”
“Agreed.”
*
Following Percy’s shock at the sight of Damien and Pedro’s abrupt departure from his planet, he rushes to the communication centre’s side room.
“Yes? More news?”
“Yes, my lord, I have disturbing news, I’m afraid. Somehow, 2 Whistler pilots have gotten wind of our dastardly plan and have just taken off from here!”
“That is a preposterous lie; there are no Whistler pilot
s in this area!”
“Damien and Pedro; do those names ring a bell anywhere in your glorious head, my lord?”
Mr Whistler’s luxurious, massively thick moustache curls high at each end, stretching his upper lip in a display of fury.
“Those 2 traitorous scoundrels! Hold on a minute though; they could be coming to my assistance, not that I need any, no, no, hahaha; did you think of that before you went all doomy and gloomy on me, eh? Eh?”
“Just thought you should know, my lord.”
“Excellent work, Percy; you shall be handsomely rewarded. Of course, you know our deal, don’t you? Any fake news and you and your planet will face destruction on a scale never seen before, at least since Ghost Blue did the nab and grab job on Magnificent!”
“Yes, my lord, I am frightfully aware of my responsibilities.”
*
Minstrels (North-north west edge)
Aboard Mr Whistler’s Raven Blue Class 1, preparations for the kidnap and interrogation of Ariel Hope, Poppy, and that piraty wannabe buccaneer Alex, are under way. He keeps his ship in a holding position, making it easier for the Earthling to find him.
*
Harry gives the earliest warning possible as the Raven shows up on her screen.
“Ariel, we have a visual. This is supposed to be the area Doctor Diggedy would be in by now. Hold on...oh NO!”
“What is it, Harry!”
Beta 2’s AI doesn’t need to answer as the enormity of Percy Bump’s betrayal hits home like a superstitious baseball player on a glorious slugging run, not having changed his socks for a week.
Ariel’s fury is off the scale.
“That snake, leading us into a trap while our friends are seriously ill!”
Alex looks both embarrassed and furious.
“Ah for sure, Ariel, I’m sorry. I should never have trusted that cousin of mine. I always knew he was shifty but what he has done is evil.”
Ariel’s shock is all consuming.
“So, what now?”
Alex’s sombre tone delivers the only possible answer.
“We have no choice but to fight now. If we can see him, he can see us.”
Poppy glares at the image on-screen.
“I will take the fighter ship separately; it will give us more options, ma’am.”