Sandoo stepped over and scanned the stations where Grog and Vlak were sitting. He seemed to be on to something by the way he was tapping on the screens.
“Sir,” he said a couple of seconds later, “it might be wise for us to return to base and point out that the mission will require more than our crew.”
“I’m with him,” Grog announced.
“Me, too,” agreed Vlak. “I’m still learning about ships and technology, but I don’t think we have a chance against those big guys.”
“They’re right, Cap’n,” Jezden said. “Everyone knows that size matters.”
“Thure doeth,” agreed Moon.
“Ew.”
Harr got up from his chair and began to pace. Pacing was something that he’d done more and more as he matured into the rank that he held on The Reluctant. He’d often wondered why mid-level officers—the ones who did the actual work in the military—were always walking around with concerned looks on their faces. After only a few years being in command, he no longer asked that question. Frankly, it took work for him not to look worried these days.
“Sometimes being small is just what’s needed, Ensign.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Cap’n,” Jezden replied.
“Do you ever think about anything else?”
“You mean besides hot chicks and whoopie?”
“Yes,” Harr said.
“Sometimes I think about how lucky hot chicks are that I’m around. And when I say ‘around,’ I mean …”
“Okay, okay,” Harr said, holding up his hands, “I get the picture. Unfortunately.”
“You asked, dude.”
“Anyway,” Harr said, looking from face to face, “I need ideas here, people.”
Nobody said anything at first. They just looked thoughtful, which was better than blank.
“I’m with the rest of the crew, Captain,” Ridly ventured first. She stood up and pointed at the viewscreen. “The only prudent thing is to return to base. We can’t win.”
“We can’t return either,” Frexle’s sobering voice came through the comm.
“Sure we can,” said Geezer. “That little delay in transport was probably just a glitch. I mean, I’ve not fully diagnosed things yet, but it’ll only take me an hour or so to get it sorted out.”
“That’s not what he means, Geezer,” Harr pointed out.
“You have to remember the deal between the Overseers and Platoon F, Chief,” Frexle confirmed.
“I know,” began Harr, “that’s why I said …”
“Oh, sorry, Solid Banana,” Frexle interrupted. “I was talking to Geezer, whom I now call ‘Chief.’”
“Oh, right.”
“Heh heh,” Jezden said out of the corner of his mouth. “I like that name for you, Cap’n. Solid Banana pretty much sums you up.”
“Is that not a good name?” Frexle asked.
“Oh, it’s perfect,” Jezden said with a laugh.
“Which makes me believe that it’s not,” Frexle groaned. “I’ll endeavor to do better.”
“You’re doing fine, Frex,” said Geezer. “Hey, I like that. ‘Frex.’ Simple and sounds good.”
“Fine by me,” Frexle replied. “Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that if Platoon F fails at any mission, The Reluctant and her crew will all be destroyed. It’s in the bylaws.”
“Shit,” Geezer said, “that’s what you meant. Obviously, I knew that, but just didn’t put the chips together.”
The crew all stared at their stations.
Everyone knew that those were the rules, but people had a tendency to forget things like that when the world was running somewhat smoothly. Looking outside again, Harr couldn’t help but feel that he’d rather face his personal demise trying to win than to face extinction at having given up.
“Captain,” said Grog, “any chance you could drop me and Vlak back off on Mugoog before going any further with this? I’m suddenly thinking that our home planet wasn’t so bad, after all.”
“I have to admit,” added Vlak, “that I’m feeling a tad homesick myself at the moment.”
“All right, you two. That’s enough. We’re not dead yet and we’ve got a few pluses in our favor.”
“Like what, thir?” asked Moon.
“First off, we’re stealthed and that means that those people don’t know we’re here.”
“Assuming they can’t track stealthed ships,” noted Ridly.
“They would have spotted us by now,” Sandoo argued.
“True.”
“Second,” Harr continued, “we have a replicator and a transporter.”
“And we have time travel, too, Squire,” Geezer said, “but how does that help us?”
Harr returned to his chair and crossed his legs. He couldn’t let the crew see his nervousness. They fed off of him.
“Arguably, we could just go back in time and stop them in the past,” he said casually. “Before they got this big.”
“Let’s do that,” Grog agreed.
“Yeah,” said Vlak. “What’s the hold up?”
Jezden chuckled as he looked at the two EEH’s. “I like you guys. You’re my kind of fellas.”
“Sorry, pal,” Grog said worriedly. “We don’t roll that way.”
“Yeah,” said Vlak, “just because we aren’t good at getting chicks doesn’t mean that we want to be with dudes”
“Not that there’s anything wrong with that, if it’s what you’re all about.”
“Well put, Grog,” Vlak said before looking back at Jezden. “We’re not judging you, bud. It’s just not our gig.”
“Thith ith fun to watch,” Moon said with a laugh.
“Shut up, Hank,” Jezden spat. Then he glanced back at Grog and Vlak. “You guys are idiots.”
“Touchy,” Grog said, raising his eyebrow.
“Most of them are,” said Vlak.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Yeah,” Moon said, suddenly siding with Jezden. “What the hell ith that thuppothed to mean?”
Harr uncrossed his legs and slammed his hands down on the arms of the Captain’s Chair. Suddenly, he wished he hadn’t because there were buttons and pointy things all over the damn thing. But he held his resolve.
“That’s enough,” he said icily. “We have to figure things out here. Frexle, is there any reason that we can’t go back in time to stop this?”
“Sorry to report, Man-with-the-plan,” Frexle replied, “that the time dilation chamber isn’t powering up.”
“What?”
“He’s right, Prime,” Geezer said. “It’s the craziest thing. The chamber usually flows without any issues, but it’s just sitting cold.”
“What’s wrong with it?” Harr said, desperately trying to contain his ire.
“How am I supposed to know?” Geezer replied.
“You built the damn … nevermind. I know, I know. You build things but you don’t really know how they work.”
“See, Frex?” Geezer said after a moment. “I told you that he catches on. Just takes him a little time is all.”
“All right,” Harr stated sternly, “you two get up here pronto. We need to figure this out and I don’t want to be on the comm doing it. I want everyone on deck.”
“On who’s di …”
“Deck, Jezden. D.E.C.K. Deck.”
“Oh, right.”
“Before we come up,” Geezer said hesitantly, “you should probably know that the GONE drive is offline, too.”
“What?” Harr said directly at the microphone on his chair. “Is there anything working on this damn ship?”
“That hurts, Chief,” Geezer said. “Honestly, that hurts.”
“Get up here,” Harr commanded and then cut the comm.
“Captain?” Grog asked cautiously.
Harr tilted his head towards the EEH. “What is it, Grog?”
“What’s a Zapsippian Space Beast?”
KING RAFF
King Raff stood on the br
idge of The Lord’s Master, which was the largest ship in the Raffian Fleet.
Many lives had been lost during the building of The Lord’s Master, but that didn’t bother a man like King Raff. If anything, it seemed to inspire the man to feel more highly of himself.
His military chief, Colonel Clifferton Clippersmith, had served King Raff for the better part of his life. He was nearly twenty years the king’s elder and he considered the king to be naught more but a whiny runt. Not once since Raff had taken the throne had the fleet been to battle. They were always close, certainly, but the king was keen at finding ways to gum up the works.
“I’m bored, Colonel,” King Raff said tiredly.
“You’ve said that many times lately, my lord,” Clippersmith replied.
“I want battles and conquest and things like that,” Raff said and then deflated slightly. “I think.”
“You’re not sure, sire?”
King Raff looked over his shoulder and then lowered his voice.
“It’s just this feeling that comes with being a king, I suppose. I can’t quite explain it. Probably has something to do with all of these massive ships that we have. I mean, what’s the point of having an armada if we’re just going to float around doing nothing?”
“I wonder the very same thing on a daily basis, my lord,” Clippersmith agreed.
“You do?”
“I do. Most of the Raffian Command does, sire.”
“Oh.” The king looked back out at the stars. “What should we do?”
“Maybe we should attack Lopsided-3, sire,” Clippersmith suggested. “They do have it coming, after all.”
King Raff nodded sagely.
Against his better judgment, Clippersmith allowed himself the smallest belief that the king may actually go through with something for once. Of course, he’d felt this way nearly every time the king considered battle. It was truly just a case of wishful thinking on Clippersmith’s part, but that’s all that he had at this stage in his career. Aside from mutiny, of course, which was frankly right around the corner.
“It’s true, you know,” the king said after a time. “Lopsided-3 is a pain in the royal rump. Their infernal king is a complete meanie. What’s his name again?”
“It’s a she, my lord,” Clippersmith said with a bow. “Her name is King Sheila.”
“Don’t you mean Queen Sheila?”
“They do things a little differently on Lopsided-3, my liege.”
“True,” King Raff said as he pushed out his robe a bit. “Well, she didn’t send me a birthday card this year. Normally I would find that merely a little distasteful and be done with it, but it was my thirtieth birthday, man!”
“Inexcusable, my lord,” Clippersmith stated, trying to incite the king.
“Exactly the word for it, Colonel,” King Raff said, pointing at Clippersmith. Then he held up his finger questioningly. “That’s grounds for war, isn’t it?”
“Wars have been waged for less atrocities, sire.”
“Excellent.”
The king was smiling in full-force now. He was even rubbing his hands together like a maniacal bastard who was planning to do something nefarious. Clippersmith’s hope was gaining momentum.
“Pull up the video of Lopsided’s historical records, Colonel.”
Clippersmith turned and snapped his fingers at one of the crewmen. “You there, put Lopsided-3’s records on screen immediately.”
“Sorry, sir,” the crewman said hoarsely, “but our cable connection is out again.”
“You’re kidding me,” Clippersmith replied.
“No, sir. It’s been down for a few hours.”
“Why? What the hell happened?”
“Disconnected again, sir,” the crewman answered. “We put in a call to tech support, but their technician hasn’t arrived yet. They gave us a two-hour window, but it’s past that time by an hour now.”
“Ridiculous that we have to use cables in space anyway,” Clippersmith complained. “Simply ridiculous.”
“Is there an issue?” the king asked coyly, though he had most certainly overheard everything.
“It seems that our cable connection is down again, my lord. We can’t pull up the video that you requested.”
The king took out a pen and threw it across the room. He had a bunch of pens for this particular purpose.
“Dammit! Who is in charge of cable again?”
“Actually, sire,” Clippersmith said while chewing the inside of his cheek, “that would be the Lopsided Cable Company.”
“Where are they located?”
“Lopsided-3.”
“Yet another reason to wage war against them,” the king said hotly. “Except that it would mean we’d lose cable completely.”
“We could go with satellite,” Clippersmith suggested, trying to keep the king’s angst at full. “Lopsided-17 has been improving their technology on a constant basis, after all.”
“Is that so?” the king said while pursing his lips. “Makes more sense than running cables from our ships, too, doesn’t it?”
“Many of the smaller freighters are using dishes exclusively these days, sire.”
“As opposed to bowls?” said the king confusedly.
“Sorry, I meant satellite dishes.”
“Ah, yes. Are there any downsides to switching away from cable?”
There were many, but Clippersmith was navigating rocky waters here. Still, he couldn’t hide everything from the king. Eventually the man would learn the truth and he wasn’t known for being kind to officers who led him astray.
“Erm, we would have to put a dish on the top of the ship,” he said carefully.
“Will that be a problem with the Ship Owners Association?”
“The SOA?” Clippersmith replied, surprised that the king was aware of such organizations. “It shouldn’t be a problem. There’s a covenant in the documents for satellite connections already.”
“That’s good, at least. I hate dealing with people like them. They start off nice enough, but pretty soon they’re picking on every inch of the ship, you know? Self-important bastards.”
“There’s also a two-year contract requirement on the satellite dish, sire,” Clipppersmith said, steering the king back to the topic at hand, though he really didn’t want to.
“Two years?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“That’s a bit of a commitment,” mused King Raff. “Still, it’s got to be better than cable.”
“When there are no asteroids around, yes,” Clippersmith stated with a wince.
“Asteroids are a problem?”
“They block the signal. Also, we’ll need to keep the ship facing at a certain angle at all times.”
The king looked Clippersmith from head to toe as if studying the man’s ability to command.
“You do realize the idiocy of that statement, right?”
“I do, my lord,” Clippersmith answered with a nod. “It’s nearly as insane as cables in space.”
“Valid.” Raff turned back to look outside again. “Couldn’t they just make a dish that automatically tracks the direction that it needs to point in order to get a signal?”
“Novel idea, my lord. Would you like me to connect you to their suggestion hotline?”
“No, no, no,” the king said while frantically waving his hands around. “They’ll just upsell me on something. Happens all the time. I still have a closet full of water filters from a multilevel marketing scheme where …” He stopped and glanced around the room. “Forget it.”
Clippersmith soaked in the moment of the king looking foolish. Then he noticed that the king was staring at him with that “say something!” look about him. Clippersmith cleared his throat.
“Uh, yes, sire! It’s nearly as bad as the Intergalactic Cell Phone service.”
King Raff winked and said, “Hah! Don’t even get me started.”
It went quiet again as the two men stared out at the distant planet known as Lopsided-3.
Clippersmith didn’t want to pose the question of whether they were going forward with the attack or not, but he had little choice. It was how the game was played with the ever-flopping King Raff.
“Sire,” Clippersmith said in a monotone voice, “shall I instruct the fleet to attack Lopsided-3?”
“It seems that our hands are tied this time, Colonel,” Raff replied. “We can’t afford to have our cable bill increased again. The last time I negotiated our deal with their customer support representative, I lost SBO.”
“Ah,” the colonel said. “That explains why all of my Ship Box Office channels went missing a few months ago.”
“Correct.”
“So we’re not going to attack them,” Clippersmith said dejectedly.
The king put his hand on Clippersmith’s shoulder.
“Some day, Colonel. Just not today.”
BEEFY
His real name was Adam Pederick, but when he was on his Taint Splitter 626, they called him “Beefy.”
The story went that he’d brought a bunch of steaks to a space biker BBQ one summer night, expecting a good twenty attendees, but only a few people showed. Being somewhat OCD about, well, everything, Adam couldn’t stand the thought of having a bunch of steaks go bad, especially at the price he’d spent on them. So he downed all the leftovers himself and became rather ill. After the party ended, he took a long space ride to Brekteth-3 to spend a few days recovering. Rumor had it that he was banned by the Brektethian law due to the mess he’d left at one of their local parks.
Once the space bike club heard of this, they threatened to nickname him “Doodie.” Fortunately, he worked at the Lopsided Cable Company, meaning that he was able to bribe them all with free cable for a year and garner the more palatable nickname of “Beefy.”
Beefy’s Taint Splitter 626 was a top-of-the-line model with all the perks. It had sleek panels, rotating rockets, a 360-degree VizClocker, and a sound system that could make the deaf and earless creatures on Sothop do The Hustle.
He had numerous bikes in his shop, including the RevRev 211, the ZipRider Z-14, and the classic Hiney Vibe 1100. If he wasn’t out riding one of them, he was tinkering on their engines. But even with his many choices of bikes to ride, time and again he turned back to the Taint Splitter because of the way it twiddled his tenderviddles.
Platoon F: Quadology: Missions 6, 7, 8, and 9 (Platoon F eBook Bundle 2) Page 41