Breathing heavily, Drake walked over to the detached tail and picked it up. He was meaning to throw the tail on top of the body, when the pointed end stretched of its own accord and stabbed him in the bicep of his left arm. He threw the thing far down the hall with a startled and furious yell. He then ran to the dead body and kicked with all of his might, splattering a boot sized hole in its shell.
Freddie put a hand on his shoulder and warned him that there may have been a few floors of people to hear that commotion. There were no more hallways to look for, so they went into the room to search. The sight of the extravagant web work was very distracting, but they found a door hidden behind one angle of the webbing. Freddie’s heart dropped. If these Dooghinians had given Priscilla over to that thing, he didn’t think he would hold himself responsible for his actions. Not thinking of his fear, Freddie slapped the webs away and pulled the door open.
Priscilla turned quickly when the light entered the little room, her face dirty and stricken with horror. It took a few seconds for her to recognize Freddie, and when she did, the look of horror melted away into surprise and disbelief, mingled with a small dose of adoration.
“Come on, quickly my darling,” Freddie rushed. It sounded as if he had rehearsed this scene the entire way.
“I thank you, Frederick.” The medical operator was not cold when she spoke, but was more business than personal. She grabbed her medical bag that she had taken off of the racecraft with her, and took Freddie’s hand to lead her out of her cell. She halted when she saw Drake, who was kneeling on the floor, doubled over, holding his left arm in pain, and swaying from side to side.
“I should have a look at that wound, captain,” she said as she squatted down and opened her bag.
“I’ll be fine, I don’t need you,” Drake slurred. Even as he protested, the dizziness increased and he removed the hand covering the wound. “Unless maybe you have a shot for me like Croxy used to?”
“Actually, in this case, I do happen to have an injection for you.” Priscilla had seen the injury and established that it was poison. “This is an antidote to most poisons,” she went on to say, “It should help you feel better in no time.”
Drake was doubtful, but had no choice, and the fact that she had a shot led him to believe that she may not be so bad after all. There was no hissing sound, sure, but everyone had different styles. The inoculation was working its full abilities in sixty seconds.
Meanwhile, Bruvold was feeling very proud of himself for gassing the Dooghinians. He would have had good reason to be proud, had the wind not blown the puff of gas that came from the bomb away. At the time, he did not know this, and was telling Sammy and Kraus that all was safe. Kraus suggested taking Juhaen to the medical quarters and prepare him as best as they knew how for Priscilla. He had no doubts that Drake would bring back the craft’s M.O. The three teammates carried the unconscious Juhaen on their shoulders to Priscilla’s examination module.
After a few minutes of debating on what to do, if anything, further, Kraus agreed to stay beside the injured while the others went back out to prepare to leave. Before Sammy and Bruvold could get out the door the racecraft rocked as an explosion rattled the loading zone area. Nobody saw the six Dooghinians board the craft and split into different directions to bring justice to the thieves that had tried to ransack their planet.
Bruvold was the first to see the trespassers. As he stepped into the main corridor, he saw three of the intruders coming toward Sammy and himself. The former weapons operator fell to one knee, while pulling a rapid-fire laser unit, and opening fire. Samelak Riordin stood, legs spread, behind Bruvold with a laser unit of a different type. It did not have a rapid-fire option, but was efficient all the same. The three deformed humanoids went down one after the other, in sequence.
Sammy ran along the main corridor to the navigation center to check on things, and Bruvold sprinted across to the loading corridor to do likewise to the loading zone. Bruvold received the biggest surprise. There was a hole in the side of the racecraft that was almost as large as the loading zone and storage area itself. Furious, he brought the pulse cannon from behind his back and walked out of the hole, blasting at every Dooghinian group and individual that he could see, either moving or standing still. The force of each round knocked him back a step and a half, but he barely noticed. Shouting in a foreign tongue, he killed enough of the surrounding natives to start a population concern on this portion of the planet, made up of mostly outlaw rogues, thieves, murderers, and various criminal types, that somehow seemed to live amongst themselves without as much trouble as such a thing suggested.
Panicked, the people scattered in all directions, forgetting all plans of taking over the racecraft and delivering it to the castle. This would give them a generous reward from the governing body of the planet, which all lived in the castle with their army. They all loved space racing more than anything else, and were always very pleased with the delivery of a new racecraft. Many inhabitants of the poorest sections of populated areas would have enough money to barter and sustain themselves for months with the reward. This was not worth losing all of their lives to them; evidently, money has no value to the dead. The area was clear within two minutes of killing, screaming, and bodies blowing up.
Uciferi heard shuffling outside of his chamber, and felt hunger and anxiety strike his torso. Finally Bruvold was bringing him another meal! He didn’t know how long it had been since he had eaten, but hunger cramps had come and gone since the last time. His mouth watered as he stood and faced the slide window carved into the door.
“What happened?” Uciferi was referring to the collision that had swayed the craft. “Is everything alright?” He didn’t really care, and had to yell to be heard through the door, so decided to shut up and wait for the food.
There was a scratching sound at the door and Ouldsid started to get curious. Bruvold had never knocked before. In fact, not even Priscilla had knocked when she visited him, as he liked to think of it. Then, this wasn’t exactly a knock either. He decided to wait it out, thinking that Bruvold was just teasing him.
The slide window slammed open and the prisoner was eye to eye with the most grotesque face he had ever seen. The eyes were uneven, the nose was off center, and the thing’s crooked teeth, gave the impression of a mutated human staring in. Uciferi screamed. The Dooghinian yelled louder. As Uciferi was watching, the creature’s head blew up, the neck gushing blood like some macabre geyser erupting. He screamed even louder and more shrilly than before. It almost sounded like Freddie. Sammy told him this, and to keep quiet while he looked for the other two enemies aboard.
Little did Sammy know that Kraus had found the last of them in the consuming quarters, and did away with them by using the waste compactor in the food storage area. He had shoved them in while they were picking rotten remains and putting the garbage in their pockets.
Drake, Freddie, and Priscilla were all running over the freshly dropped bridge, courtesy of Freddie, when the mounted lasers opened fire once again. This time, it was as if the guns were off target, as none of the rounds hit even close to any of them. Drake was the only one not to feel discouraged when he saw how far away the ground transport still was. They had reached the sand and, so far, had not been followed, but the real danger of the moment lie ahead of the adventurers, not behind them.
Out of the sand, slowly rose more than twenty of the huge beetles that Drake and Freddie had seen fighting. Priscilla and Freddie both shouted and tried to slow their pace, but Drake, without slowing a step, scooped one of his teammates up with each arm, and hopped across the sand on the beetles’ backs. Just as he was jumping back onto green grass, feeling reassured for not having to look out for the sinking sand areas, Drake risked a look behind him and saw four men running out of the castle, all were dressed like the soldier in the entrance hall, but two carried pistols instead of swords.
Drake set his crewman on their feet a few meters away from the transport they had stolen. They all dashed
inside, and soon Freddie was speeding away again, adrenaline pumping heavily and quickly through him.
“Head toward the forest,” Drake instructed. He had been a navigator for longer than the others had been in racing, and was sure he could pilot Freddie back, cutting through the forest, which would lead them to the corn. If, that was, this was the same wood. He liked his odds on the risk.
Freddie plowed through the low shrubs and foliage in the dense copse of trees and strange plants. He had no tracks to guide him, so was going only where the captain ordered. His mission had been met, in Freddie’s opinion. He and Drake had rescued Priscilla.
The automobile bounced and shuddered while going through the forest, but Freddie handled it rather well. He followed Drake’s directions perfectly, but was dumbfounded when the commander told him to stop the vehicle. The natives were still chasing them, and Freddie wanted to waste no time getting back to the racecraft, which should be repaired and ready to launch by now.
Drake had seen the first glimpse of corn, and he had already come up with a way to dupe the fools trailing them. He led Priscilla and Freddie to the safety of the cornrows. Then, he strutted back to the automobile, picking up a medium sized dead branch on the way. He started the engine the way that he had seen Freddie do it, with the key, and then looked behind. The attackers were not in visible range, but he could hear them. Quickly, he wedged the branch between the acceleration pedal and the seat, and then pulled the transmission lever to the D. The transport took off, pointed directly toward the city streets.
Drake dived into the corn just in time to miss being seen by the followers. The Dooghinians yelled and hooted, one of them fired his gun into the air. They believed that they were going to catch their prey again, this time with bonuses. The famous Drake Judge would make a nice addition to their leader’s statue collection.
While making their way back to the rocky terrain that marked the area where they landed, Drake collected as much corn as he could carry, and ordered the others to do likewise. He would take care of payment personally.
“You want us to eat this stuff?” Freddie could not believe that the captain ever ate anything other than meat and bread, even in the off-season.
“Just wait until you bite into one of these ears, when they’re steaming hot and bursting with juices in your mouth,” Drake said, with a wistful tone. “You’ll be thanking me for it.”
“Yeah,” retorted Freddie, while Priscilla looked on with a smirk. “That’s easy for someone with clothes to say! Just look at the state of my beautiful skin and body!”
This produced a snicker from both Priscilla and Drake, but the smiles quickly died when they stepped out of the corn and saw the number thirteen racecraft in the distance. There was a gaping hole where the loading zone should have been. Also, it looked like someone was standing outside the craft holding a small cannon, which would explain the astronomical amount of Dooghinian bodies lying about.
Drake hurried to his ship, not looking to see if his crew-members had followed. The only thing alive within sight was Bruvold, standing pompously and frowning in the general direction of what made up the marketplace of Dooghin.
“There had better be a good explanation for this,” Drake said ominously.
“They is attacking, and I is killing … is for team and for you … is for living.” Bruvold responded, looking defensive and discombobulated.
“Keep your post. You’ve done well. Raise an alarm if anyone comes near, but do not shoot!” Drake brushed past him, after making sure that Bruvold had understood his commands, and continued to the racecraft. Freddie and Priscilla had caught up by this point, and Bruvold eyed Freddie suspiciously, but said nothing. They too, rushed to the craft.
Freddie ran directly to the cleansing quarters. Kraus immediately confronted Priscilla and told her about Juhaen, lying on the module, waiting to be healed. She wasted no time in getting to the medical quarters. Drake was already talking to Sammy about what had happened while he was gone, and was becoming more furious by the second. He, in turn, told his friend about the racecrafts, and the gear that he and Freddie had found. Drake punctuated this story by showing Sammy the number thirty-eight Future Fuels cap that he had pilfered in the same room.
While the two old friends were conferring and changing stories, Jaws had reappeared. The return of his captain had eased his nerves enough to become visible again. As soon as Drake spotted the communications expert, he called the long nosed man over and told him to send a contact message to league officials, concerning this planet, and the practices of its natives in the castle.
Drake marched back outside right before Bruvold had turned to call for him. An assembly of about fifteen Dooghinians was cautiously approaching the racecraft. As they moved closer, their silence lessened and they began to chatter and mumble amongst themselves.
“You people have been living as slaves to the tyrants of the castle in the west!” Drake’s booming voice was heard without him having to shout, and all stopped their advance. He was telling them nothing that they did not know, however, and all of the deformed faces stared toward Drake, wanting to know where he was going with this.
“I have sent a message to the Intergalactic Challenge Circuit on your behalf, and very soon, your liberation will be at hand!” He was close to shouting this last, and it had the effect that he had aimed for. The Dooghinians around him all cheered and clapped and chanted his name, which faintly brought him back to the memory of the victory platform and the dual crowd, but he realized soon that it was nowhere close to his phantom fans.
He talked for a time with the leader of the small rebellion that was left to stand up against the malevolent leaders of the planet, and worked out an arrangement that allowed him to keep all the corn that he had stolen, in addition to helping them repair the racecraft that their people had destroyed. In exchange for all of this, Drake would pay one hundred thousand space credits, which were good for currency anywhere in this dimension. Drake then retired to his own personal quarters for some much needed rest.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The Sound of Cannon Fire
In the second of the three days that it took for the racecraft to be repaired, Juhaen, Freddie, and Sammy all approached Drake at the same time to request that Priscilla be made a permanent member of the team. Drake pulled Sammy aside to his personal quarters to discuss it. When they were behind the closed door, the commander turned to his ship and shield technician and spoke.
“It’s going to be up to you, whether or not the woman stays,” he informed Sammy. “I’m going to be gone anyway, but I don’t think it’s such a bad idea. She has shots, you know.”
“You’re really serious about this retirement thing, aren’t you, D.J.?” Sammy was still holding out a little hope that it had been the stress talking.
Drake nodded gravely in response. He had been through enough in his career to be happy with himself. Drake let out an audible groan as his eye caught the picture of the original five once again. He recalled that it was much more fun back then. Battles were fought with strength, not trickery. Loyalty to the team meant everything, and if anything were ever wrong with any of them, old Croxy had the cure in its medical case.
“It won’t be the same without you, cap,” Sammy did not want the commander to think him weak, but had to let his friend know that he would be missed.
“Feel up to a game of hand-eye?” Drake asked him, out of nowhere.
“You’re on!” Sammy accepted Drake’s challenge with a grin.
On the way to the recreational quarters, they ran into Kraus, who knew instantly what was going on by the way his two old friends were walking.
“Looking for a rematch?” He was overacting on the smugness a bit, but the others knew this to be his way of messing around and gladly brought him along.
The match was over in seven minutes, this time Sammy was the victor. Drake was again, of course, the first to be eliminated, and it did not take much longer, obviously, for Kraus to slip up and
use the same paddle in consecutive strike-returns.
After the game, the three disbanded to check on various repairs about the racecraft. Drake wanted to check on the loading zone, Sammy was going to supervise the shields, and Kraus went to help Juhaen with random, scattered jobs.
It seemed everything was finally going smoothly, although it had taken them fighting the civil war that the planet Dooghin so desperately needed to free them. Drake was forcing the whole crew to try the corn every time he caught one, or any number, of them in the consuming quarters. Freddie had gone back to wearing his dress-like robes and singing again, mostly tales of his endless beauty, chivalry, bravery, and his undying love for Priscilla, who acted as if it were all a comical game, when, in actuality, she had become quite fond of the engine and fuel operator, and thought him quite charming, though a touch ostentatious. The fact that they were teammates, would keep Priscilla from pursuing any real feelings that she had for him, unfortunately for sir Frederick.
Bruvold had started feeding Uciferi again, including some of the corn. This was not so much to give the ship’s former maintenance and sanitation control personnel a treat, as it was to get rid of just a little more corn. He would bring the caged Ouldsid two or three ears each time he brought the meat, bread, and coffee, and sometimes he just brought an armload of corn. Jaws stayed mostly in his personal quarters, the reason for this being he had purchased a small store of cold drinks on the planet Dooghin, and Juhaen followed Kraus and Sammy around, working with them and secretly hoping that maybe he would get a permanent position aboard the number thirteen.
The Full Circle Six Page 14