by G. P. Moss
“Thank you, Poppy.”
“Ma’am, try to aim underneath, in the centre; it is the only spot where a direct hit will cause paralysis; any other damage and the Raven will still be able to get away.”
“Thanks, love; for your courage, and for your optimism.”
“We can do this, ma’am.”
Despite the terrifying position they now find themselves in, Ariel is grateful for her Whistler friend and First Officer.
This time, they cannot hit and run or even just run; they have friends back on Bump Minor they will never abandon.
Chapter Nine
Mr Whistler stands in the main control centre of the Raven, his huge moustache twisting in tyrannical excitement.
Soon, Beta 2 will be close enough to blow into space dust but that’s too easy for this evil space monster.
No, he wants Ariel Hope onboard, face to face so he can humiliate her in defeat just like she humiliated his Whistler warriors at the soon to be, actually becoming already, Battle of Minstrels Gate.
For this, he will need to employ certain important things to carry out his dastardly plan.
As the Raven’s sensors show Beta 2 is now in range, he initiates the enemy AI lockdown system, making automatic control of the cruiser impossible.
*
Ariel’s focus is on the huge spaceship, its black-blue beauty perverse in its ability to deflect attention away from its true, awesome power. She needs help manoeuvring the cruiser in its complicated warrior dance if she is to have any chance at all, of outwitting this fearsome, evil foe.
“Harry, I need you in complete control except for weaponry; Alex and I will handle the laser rounds and cannons.”
No response.
Harry’s still on-screen, dressed in black battle gear but she stares ahead, motionless like a freaky frozen dummy.
“Alex, check out the AI control panel, see if Harry’s circuits have blown.”
“I’m on it, for sure, Ariel but it may not be that.”
“What else could it be?”
He’s already gone.
Grabbing the controls, Ariel attempts to move her ship to the left of her current course, trying for now to shield Poppy, underneath in her fighter ship.
Nothing happens.
Alex rushes back, bringing news that the AI control panel’s intact.
“It must be from the Raven; Harry’s been shut down. You’ll have to do the steering while I handle the weapons.”
Ariel stares at him in horror.
“Alex, he’s taken control of the ship; there’s no response from any of the controls!”
“What about the lasers; can we throw everything at him we’ve got, try to break his systems down?”
“No, Alex; only the downward lasers are still operational; he knows they’re useless while we are in this position, unless we wanted to send Poppy into the next galaxy as a dust ball.”
“So, what now, Captain?”
Alex doesn’t get the chance to answer as an agonising whistle makes him fall to his knees in pain, his vibrating hands slamming to his ears in a futile attempt at shielding the noise.
He manages to turn, his eyes stinging like a face wash with chillies on a hot wet flannel, as he sees Ariel in the same position.
As the excruciating, burning pain threatens to overwhelm the Beta crew, the whistling comes to an abrupt, unexpected end.
Mr Whistler’s voice slams through the cruiser’s cockpit.
“That, my sunshines, is just a little example of my whistling prowess. Your ship is being tractor beamed into a docking station as I speak. I suggest you hold on, try to relax, and not think of all the dastardly treats I have in store for you!”
Ariel tries to hold on to the only hope left; Poppy. It looks, for the moment, that she flies underneath, undiscovered, the only 1 left who can offer her a wafer-thin slice of survival.
“And do not think I have not seen that traitorous Whistler witch, Poppy, lurking under your spaceship. Do you think I am daft, or something? I have the greatest ship in these galaxies, a glorious Raven, fit only for a tyrant! I shall tractor beam her in too, just a moment...aaaaarrggghhhh! Stop that, it’s too painful, you murderous cow!”
Perhaps Mr Whistler forgot that his defected fighter pilot also has whistling powers.
He will not make the same mistake again.
Donning a pair of anti-whistler, black leather ear muffs, hanging helpfully close, he cackles in satisfaction as he picks himself off the floor.
“Now try it, you dreadful traitorous reject!”
Poppy gives it all she has, sucking in her cheeks like someone who’s forgotten to turn off the stupid speed button.
“Aaaaarrggghhh!”
He adjusts a dial on the right-hand ear muff.
“Now try it, you treasonous wench!”
An exhausted Poppy, out of whistling practice, has nothing left in her cheek arsenal. Mr Whistler knows it too.
As she feels the numbing pull of the tractor beam, she calls through to Beta 2.
“I am sorry, ma’am; it looks like my powers have diminished with time and inactivity.”
Mr Whistler shrieks with laughter before Ariel has a chance to reply to her faithful friend and First Officer.
“Hahahahahaha! Captain bossy pants Ariel no Hope only gets called ma’am. That is a rubbish salutation, reserved for losers and wannabes; I am called Lord Whistler!”
Ariel is not really interested, rather she’s trying to keep communication alive; any kind will do while she attempts to find a solution for this dreadful predicament.
“Since when and by who?”
“Since Percy Bump thought of the splendid, highly appropriate name. Yes, now there is a young man who recognises greatness; he will go far and be exquisitely rewarded for tricking you into falling into my dastardly tyrannical trap!”
Alex is as furious as a celebrity chef realising one of his underlings has overcooked an asparagus tip.
“I should have known it, for sure. That no good, traitorous cousin of mine shall feel the full force of my righteous wrath once I return!”
“Hahahahahaha! You will not be returning, now, soon, or ever, you loser wannabe fake arms dealing wannabe space pirate! Percy will rule Bump Minor, a puppet ruler of course, with me as the real boss. Haha, yes, he will get rid of his father then I will be even richer and even far more powerful than I already am!”
Ariel’s anger is barely contained as she pleas for an end to the tyrant’s greed.
“Why don’t you just return to planet Whistler and leave everyone alone? You already have enough there!”
Ariel is just about to get the shock of her life and the news she doesn’t know she’s been waiting for.
Mr Whistler’s moustache dances in luxurious anger.
“I do not have my planet any longer but mark my fearsome words, I will return and reclaim my rightful place as chief tyrant, overthrowing your dastardly father, and destroying the whole Earthling population, oh yes, I will!”
Ariel’s heart leaps like a joyful deer.
“You were beaten by StarTapped Beta Command? They now have planet Whistler as their home? Hahaha, it doesn’t matter what happens to me now, that news has made me as happy as a sand bag! My family is safe; hooray!”
Alex does not share her enthusiasm.
“Ariel, while I am happy for your family, for sure, I can’t say that I’m willing to lay down and perish now on the strength of that glorious news. And, it is ‘happy as a sand boy’, not ‘sand bag’.”
“Sorry Alex, don’t worry, I shall get us all out of this mess.”
“Hahaha, you really think so, do you, self-promoted Captain Ariel smells like britches left in ditches Hope? None of you will leave here, hahahahaha!”
Ariel whispers to Alex.
“It’ll be okay.”
He just raises a disbelieving eyebrow, sending it high enough to tickle his fringe.
A terrifying, tyrannical voice smashes through their sen
ses.
“This is your new capitalised Captain speaking, Lord Whistler as I am now known. I am beginning the docking procedure. On arrival, a humanoid droid will enter your ships and cuff you with his droid cuffing device. Welcome to the Raven!”
Chapter Ten
As Ariel quickly dons her parka, Beta 2’s cockpit door opens, revealing the Raven’s droid, a shining, silver humanoid, already projecting a strange, string-like material, tying her wrists in front of her body.
She wonders if she’ll be able to somehow reach the taser if an opportunity of escape presents itself.
The droid looks at her, as if he knows.
As Alex’s wrists are also tied, the droid introduces himself.
“I am Trevor, personal assistant to Mr Whistler, or Lord Whistler as he now insists on being addressed as. Do as I say and all will be well.”
Alex stares at Trevor.
Trevor stares back.
He has no eyelashes so will always win in a staring match.
“Ah, for sure you’re just the lackey of old Whistler; and what, may I ask, will you do if we refuse your commands?”
Polite as anything, Trevor replies.
“Refusal would not be beneficial to your health, sir.”
Lord Whistler’s cranky old gob barks an order loud enough to hail a cab in Times Square.
Or Piccadilly Circus.
Or a proper busy place in Delhi.
“Hurry it up in there, Trevor. You need to go and fetch that witch from the stolen Whistler fighter ship!”
“I apologise for my master’s rudeness, Captain Hope and Alex with an indeterminate surname; alas, he is not the greatest diplomat I have ever come across.”
Alex’s interest is piqued, like a meerkat knowing a television cameraman is waiting.
“So, you belonged to someone else before, Trevor?”
Trevor actually sighs, a long and sorrowful metallic gust.
“Alas, it is true my friends. I belonged to a great ambassador of the galaxies, a lady of vision, respected far and near and wide.”
Ariel raises both eyebrows.
It’s hard to say why.
“What is her name, Trevor?”
“No, it was not Trevor, that is my new name. She is, alas, gone, blown away as dust by the hand of evil, the hand of my new master. Her name was Ophelia Cloudhopper, lover of flowers, simple rhymes and blessed with an uncanny knack of bringing nations together.”
Lord Whistler blasts through.
“What is keeping you, you useless robot-type machine thing? Hurry it up I say!”
“Yes, master, I was just having an issue with my droid cuffing device.”
“Yes, no wonder; ramshackle rubbish I got from that mad old cow!”
Trevor looks as though he wants to talk forever, his arms flapping in panic.
“You must follow me, please, into the Raven; I need to fetch Poppy.”
Ariel’s desperate to learn more.
“Before we go, what was your name, before you were taken?”
“Charles, madam; how I miss that fine name!”
“Yes, Charles, it is a fine name; I like it very much!”
Alex winks at Ariel.
Ariel winks back.
*
Recently renamed, Lord Whistler stands, his back to a ship console the likes of which Ariel has never seen.
“Sit in those chairs, the pair of you!”
As Ariel and Alex take their seats, Poppy is brought out, gently led by Trevor the renamed humanoid droid.
“Ah, the traitorous witch wench!”
“I would not have left if you had not been such a nasty tyrant!”
“Utter bonkers, I tell you; you had extra rations of carrot kebab, all my pilots did! You shall sit down and wait until Damien arrives.”
Poppy stares in alarm.
“He is here?”
“He, along with that other idiot, Pedro, have finally come to their senses and decided to rejoin me. For their change of mind, they shall only serve 5 years each as unpaid slaves in my Sparkling Minerals Mine, once they have helped me take my planet back!”
“And do they know of their sentences?”
“Of course not, you dozy treasonous witch; they will help me first, even though I need no help and am strong and powerful enough to do everything on my own, oh yes, I am! When they arrive, Damien will carry out your sentence!”
“Which is what?”
“You will address me as Lord!”
“No, I will not.”
“Your sentence, you treacherous scallywag, will be space dust!”
Lord Whistler eyes a large side monitor.
“Ah, I see my partly rehabilitated Whistler warriors are coming into range! No need to tractor beam them in, oh no, no need at all; they are loyal again, those 2, oh yes, you mark my lordly words!”
*
Planet Bump Minor
As Yvette’s body begins to cooperate with her mind, she turns to check on Stevie Lo. His eyes flick open, leaving a stock-still, bewildered Beta 4 captain.
Yvette’s soothing, singy songy words fly to him like a soothing salve.
“Do not worry, Captain; your feelings will come back, it just takes a little time.”
He wants to nod but it’s impossible.
“I shall talk for us both, in my singy songy voice you like so much!”
Seeing Stevie blink furiously, she takes it as confirmation he actually wants to listen.
“Captain, I am sorry to tell you that Ariel, Poppy, and Alex have been sent to fetch a Doctor Diggedy to help us out of our unexplained medical condition but it is a vile, tyrannical trap; Alex’s evil cousin, Percy, has sent them straight to Mr Whistler!”
Yvette is sure she sees his mouth start to twist, ever so slightly, into what is likely to become, in the very near future, a furious grimace.
“Yes, my dear Captain Stevie Lo, it really is that serious. My senses are returning rapidly now and soon I shall be well enough to rise, perhaps as my bird, and stop him from tricking us too.”
Stevie tries desperately to turn his head.
“Let it come naturally, Captain, while I tell you in my melodic voice all I have learned since being here. Following the capture of Ariel, Mr Whistler shall return to take us too; it really is a frightful situation. Also, there are others, too, landed only recently, from Earth I believe. I heard that horrible Percy telling an orderly who did not look much like an orderly, that the Earthlings are scruffy and smelly but I have not seen them yet. Perhaps if they find out we are here, they will help us?”
Stevie Lo’s dry, cracked lips begin to move but as yet, there is no sound.
Yvette, seeing his mouth move, knows his recovery will thankfully come fast now, hopefully in time to save them.
*
Percy Bump oversees the fitting of the last of the dodgy weapons chips, the engineer snapping the last in place.
“Are you sure they’re the manky ones we had problems with?”
“Yes, Percy, they misfire, fizzle and pop.”
“Cool; what a trade, hey? Broken chips in exchange for 9 unwilling slaves, even though they do not know my plans for them yet. By the time they realise they have been thoroughly betrayed, Patricia and Beta Zero will be up and away! By the way, didn’t I see those Whistler pilots flying off somewhere earlier?”
“I believe so, Percy, yes; probably a test flight.”
“Yes, of course.”
His mind is not on the Whistlers, that was just a bit of diversionary banter; they will be space dust soon enough.
He briefly thought of just stealing Patricia’s spaceship too but having to explain that to his dad, on top of the slaves, might just be pushing the envelope a little far.
Percy addresses the engineer.
“Go and get that scruffy lot to have a thorough wash; I will not have them stinking the place out, plus Patricia said if they are not clean, the beer they make will turn funny; no idea what she means by that, never had it before.�
�
The engineer is getting fed up being bossed about by this pompous little upstart, Percy’s attitude deteriorating by the Bump Minor minute since his father left.
Entering the hangar, he sees the Space Dogs looking confused, bored, and very untidy. He points to a door over in the far corner.
“In there are a load of wash basins. Go and get a proper clean while I check on your 2 fellow Earthlings in the mini medical centre; hopefully that fake orderly hasn’t killed them yet!”
The remark astounds Billy Duke.
“But Pedro and Damien are not from Earth; they’re Whistlers.”
“Not those 2, the others brought in before you got here; now what were their names, erm, erm, ah, yes, got it; Stevie Lo and a French girl called Yvette.”
The Duke’s eyes bulge.
“Stuff the wash, that’s 1 of the toe rags who left us stranded on Earth; time for my revenge hahaha!”
He barges past the open-mouthed engineer as the rest of the gang dutifully follow, zigzagging their way to find their hospitalised enemies. Since the hassle on Frelsh, anyone French or Welsh is also now an enemy of this straggly straggled younger than he looks old duffer.
The engineer races to alert Percy of the new development.
“Well why did you open your gob about the mini-hospital patients, soon to become handed over to Mr Whistler, eh? Do you not think I have enough on my plate, what with getting that scruffy lot to build me a new bar pub, handing over political prisoners without trial and tidying everything up to look like I’ve done nothing dodgy before my father gets home?”
The engineer takes a deep breath.
“I have already taken Patricia’s plans and instructions for building the bar pub, over to the techies; they have commenced building the strange thing.”
“Good, now I shall dash to stop the stragglies from eliminating the fake patients before I collect my vast reward!”
The engineer has a dilemma. In generations to come, will his forlorn and miserable family simply drop their heads and say ‘well, he said he was just following orders’, or will he take the moral high ground, possibly risking his neck but doing the right thing?
It’s a close-run thing but he makes up his mind.
Running towards the mini medical centre, sometimes called hospital, the engineer’s alien heart thumps like a demented bass drum.