Max gulped and nodded. He filled his lungs, paused in contemplation, then expelled a whoosh of acceptance. “So what are we going to do?”
“The only thing we can do,” Zoey said, rising to her feet. She snatched the tracking rod from atop the safe and shook it at Max. “We’re going to dump this little bugger and plot a course for Hollow Hold.” She gave him a cordial pat on the shoulder as she walked by. “Perra,” she said, commanding her lover to attention. “I need you to get that dock remnant off the ship. Dispose of this while you’re at it.” She tossed the tracking rod to Perra, who snatched it out of the air with a deft hand.
“On it,” Perra said, then refocused her attention onto spacesuit prep.
“Max,” Zoey said.
Max jerked to attention like he knew from the movies; chin up, no eye contact, hip slap with rigid hands.
Zoey tilted her head, then shook it off. “We are going to a raging hellhole, so I need this place to reflect that reality. Hide the safe under a stack of random crates. Tear some netting, splatter some grease, do whatever you can to make the cargo bay look shoddy and disorganized. We need to look like a drifter ship on the off chance we get boarded.”
“Yes sir, ma’am, sir,” Max said, then dove into work.
“Ross,” Zoey said, turning to the fuzzy humanoid.
Ross lifted his head from a full monty licking of his calf. His protruding tongue and ruffled brow conveyed an unacceptable level of imposition.
Zoey extended a finger as if to instruct, but retracted it and clenched her fist closed. “Just keep doing what you’re doing.”
“That was the plan,” he said, returning his attention to a moistened calf.
“In the meantime, I will be in the cockpit plotting our course. I want to be outside the Boarsh Kem system in 50 marks, so let’s get a move on.” Zoey clapped her hands, then turned and disappeared into the cockpit corridor.
Max raised his hand.
“20 marks is about an hour,” Ross said. “A poch is a little under a week.”
“Thanks,” Max said and lowered his arm.
“De nada,” Ross said without breaking tongue stride.
* * *
Lord Essien’s ominous cruiser hung in the blackness of space above Europa. Its cylindrical hull stretched over a hundred meters. A jagged bow filled with cannons, torpedo tubes, and various antennas jutted outward like a metal sea urchin. Sunken turrets lined the sides, creating shadowy stripes down the exterior frame. Three massive engines in a triangle formation adorned the stern, each emitting the deep red glow of idleness. Its stealthy black skin sliced through the vacuum of space, creating a ghost-like presence that promised death to any who gazed upon it.
Its interior housed a small army of purple-skinned Varokins dressed in simple black uniforms, dedicating every action to the whims of their overlord. Lord Essien loomed over the control bridge from an elevated platform, scanning the room with vigilant eyes. The command post contained an arched arrangement of control panels in multiple rows, with tireless minions manning each station. A constant stream of blips and chirps filled the domed room as drudges tended to the floating battleship. The curvature of Europa’s stark white horizon poured through the massive panoramic viewport. With palms planted upon the steel railing, Lord Essien let out an impatient sigh while tapping the cold metal with her black fingernails. She lifted a hardened chin as the crackling static of a holographic transmission appeared over the bridge.
“Lord Essien,” said the hologram image of Jai Ferenhal. A charcoal gray pilot suit accentuated his leafy green skin and yellow hair. “The Rippers are ready to depart.”
“Good,” Essien said with obvious impatience.
“I shall not fail you, my lord.”
“I know you won’t.” She sneered as a bead of sweat rolled down Jai’s cheek. “I don’t care if you have to shake down every last cave dwelling rat in that cesspool of a planet. You bring me that package.”
“Understood.”
“And Jai ...” Her face twisted into a demented scowl. “Should you fail, I need not remind you of my methods.”
Jai gulped.
With a wave of her arm, Lord Essien killed the hologram feed. She barked orders to a navigation minion who tapped a sequence of keys into the console. The massive cruiser pitched to the side, bringing a small fleet of a dozen Ripper ships into the viewport. Essien tightened her grip on the railing while glaring beneath a furrowed brow. Her silvery eyes pierced the fleet as they aligned to shared coordinates. Each ship retracted its tentacled arsenal, housing the most feared collection of assault weaponry in the cosmos. Slivers of purple light tore over each ship as they blinked to the Boarsh Kem system.
CHAPTER 12
The airlock door slid shut behind Perra as she entered the cargo bay, still wearing her form-fitting spacesuit. One hand steadied her tarnished helmet as the other unlatched it from the connector ring, unleashing a brief hiss of pressurized air. She lifted the helmet over her head, tasted the air with a deep inhale, and whipped her ponytail from side to side. Turning to a wall locker, she unhooked the latch and swung the door open. The flimsy metal banged the adjacent wall and reverberated as it bounced back and kissed her elbow. She plunked the helmet into an upper cubby and proceeded to unzip her spacesuit. The heavy synthetic leather fell from her shoulders and down to her thighs, exposing a few pieces of thin undergarments. Unsheathing each leg, she dropped her bare feet onto the chilled floor and shivered as the brisk air raised goosebumps on her creamy orange skin. She rolled up the spacesuit in her arms and stuffed the wad of material inside the locker before reassembling her mechanic garb. With a final latch of her black boots, she turned towards the cockpit. “Dock detached and tracking core discarded. We’re clear.”
“Excellent, great work,” Zoey said. Her hands danced across the control panel with the grace of a fighter pilot. An array of pings, beeps, and muted flashes responded to her every touch. Exterior accent panels shifted from a charcoal black to a deep crimson. ID letterings changed. The beacon signal adjusted. “Max, how are you doing?”
Max lifted his grease-stained hands and studied the bay through blackened digits. A quick scan confirmed a filthy and disorganized mess. A smattering of mismatched crates lay in awkward piles. Frayed netting dangled from ceiling hooks and covered piles of rubbish. Grease stains adorned the walls in displeasing nonsensical patterns. Countless boot prints cut through a fresh layer of floor grime. A collection of dents, dings, and scrapes completed the illusion.
Max nodded and turned towards the cockpit. “The place looks like a post-kegger frat house.”
Silence responded.
“It looks great,” Perra said, patting Max on the back. “He did a good job.”
“Excellent,” Zoey said. “Thanks, Earthman. You may just prove useful yet.”
“Don’t get your hopes up,” Ross said from a cozy pile in the bedchamber.
“Says the most useless member of the crew,” Max said, poking his head around the door.
“Never claimed to be useful.” Ross lifted his head and shot a glare at Max.
“Whatever, Garfield. You just sit there and enjoy the fruits of our labor.”
“That’s racist.”
“Stop bickering, children,” Zoey said, injecting a much-needed dose of amusement. “I will pull this freighter over and give you what for.”
Perra snickered as she assumed the co-pilot chair next to Zoey.
“That should be everything, no?” Zoey said.
“Yup, as far as I can tell,” Perra said, strapping herself into the chair. “Did you get a good course plotted?”
“I believe so, yes. Well, in a sense. I did what I could with limited information. Boarsh Kem seems to go out of its way to remain cryptic.” Zoey sighed and pulled up a crude hologram of the planetary system. “I should be able to put us just outside the third’s orbit. From there, we can make a cautious approach and gauge responses accordingly.”
Perra pursed her li
ps and studied the rotating hologram. Zoey leaned back in her seat and gazed out the viewport with a vacant expression, her fingertips rapping atop the control panel. Perra reached over and gripped her hand, silencing the taps. They squeezed each other in a moment of solidarity. Zoey bowed her head and closed her eyes, trying to combat an obvious and weighted anxiety. Perra offered a hopeful smile.
“You have always managed to pull us through difficult and dangerous situations. I am beyond confident that you will get us through this one.”
Zoey nodded, her crumpled face radiating doubt. “I wish it were only dangerous. We can handle danger. Hell, we thrive in danger. But this ...” She lifted her head and turned watering eyes to Perra. “This is suicidal.”
Perra paused at the sight of her shaken lover, her rock, The Omen of the black sea. With a gentle hand, she opened their palms and interlocked fingers with her best friend. “Then so be it. How often do you get to put everything on the line for the right reasons? We’re doing exactly that, for the good of everyone, in every corner of every universe, and I will be right there by your side until the end.”
A quivering smile crept up Zoey’s cheek. “I love you so much.”
“And I love you, my sweet.”
Zoey kissed the top of Perra’s hand. She expelled a few hasty breaths and wiped her watering eyes, trying to shake off the mounting pessimism. With a forced confidence, she input the jump coordinates and turned to the cargo bay with a stern voice. “Anyone not strapped down in 20 ticks will have a very unpleasant ride.”
Ross raised an eyebrow in casual acknowledgment, then flipped over in the bed facing the wall. His long prehensile tail wrapped itself around a leg post. A panicked Max raced inside the bedchamber and lunged for the control panel. His extended finger stopped just before tapping the smooth black surface, realizing at the last second that he had no idea what he was looking for. Frantic eyes darted around the room as shoe soles squeaked across the metal floor like a frightened basketball player.
“Garpa dreka,” Ross said, commanding a seat bottom to lower itself from the wall, complete with straps and a plush cushion.
“Thanks, buddy,” Max said as he plopped himself onto the seat. He looped the straps over his shoulders and sighed with relief as he fastened the final buckle.
“De nada,” Ross said, still facing the rear wall.
A large green icon pulsed on the control panel, painting Zoey and Perra’s hesitant faces with every beat. A hush fell upon the cockpit as both Mulgawats stared at the icon. Zoey turned to Perra and offered a half-smile of acceptance. “Are you ready?”
“Not in the slightest.”
“Me neither.”
Zoey slapped a palm down on the glowing icon. Perra closed her eyes and clutched her armrests. The winding build of the jump drive filled the cabin and climaxed with a sliver of purple light.
* * *
Jai’s Ripper ship loomed over the rusty red surface of Hollow Hold, floating in upper orbit like a mechanical squid stalking prey. Its large central engine glowed with the deep red of idleness as beacon scanners surveyed the incoming traffic. An endless flow of derelict vessels blinked in and out of the system at random intervals. Each hasty exit maddened the scanning AI, resulting in numerous buzzes of failed ID acquisition. With no discernible form of traffic control, locating a specific ship in the Boarsh Kem system proved as difficult as finding a jarvy in a harmenash (the local equivalent of a needle in a haystack; the rough translation being a phallic vegetable in a dildo factory).
The deep purple glow of the Ripper’s angular console traced Jai’s hardened expression. Impatient fingers tapped on the sleek control panel, sending hollow clinks through the drab yet sophisticated cockpit. The sharp edges of gunmetal plating accented his chiseled jaw. A hologram of planetary traffic hovered above the console, bathing his skin in a warm yellow glow. Squinting eyes scrutinized the patchwork ships as they entered and exited orbit. Beacon scanners pinged in the background with every new arrival, covering a radius of several hundred gamuts.
The spidery shadow of a minion Ripper caught Jai’s attention as it sped towards him from below the horizon. His eyelids blinked with the cold indifference of a drunken sloth on antidepressants. The ship halted its approach about 50 meters away, cueing the crackling static of an incoming hologram transmission. Jai shifted his focus to the glowing green image of the minion pilot, a welcome reprieve from the incessant pings of background scanners.
“Master Jai,” the image said in a hissing voice. “A potential target has just appeared outside of the Zuzax orbit.”
“Send me the details,” Jai said with a flattened tone. A transparent panel of data figures appeared in bright yellow type beside the hologram image. His eyes narrowed as he leaned forward to study the information. “Go check it out.”
“At once, sir,” the minion said, then disappeared in a wash of static.
The minion Ripper about-faced and sped away with a burst of white light. Jai turned away and grimaced as the faint rumbles of departure crept around the cabin. He sneered at the blackness of space as the ship faded into the distance. With a restless sigh, he returned his attention to the planetary traffic.
* * *
“Ripper inbound!” Zoey’s frantic hands danced across the control panel, prepping for battle.
“Hailing or assault bound?” Perra said, double-checking the statuses of critical systems.
“Don’t know yet. There’s only one ship and it’s in no particular hurry, so I assume they don’t recognize us. Probably a scout.”
Perra flicked a series of overhead switches, then returned her attention to the viewport. “Jump is spun if we need it. All cannons and missiles online.”
“Good,” Zoey said, gripping the control yoke. “It’s showtime.”
Ross sauntered into the cockpit, munching on a piece of mystery fruit. Casual eyes brushed over the pulsing control panel before leaning forward to peer out the viewport. His complete lack of concern sucked the intensity from the room. Zoey and Perra traded puzzled expressions as Ross took another bite of fruit and let out a satisfied grunt. “Take everything offline,” he said.
Zoey whipped a startled gaze to the fuzzy humanoid. “What? You did hear me say ‘Ripper inbound,’ did you not? Eager to meet your furry creator?”
Perra responded with a cheek spasm.
Ross shrugged and maintained his even-toned demand. Gazing into the black, he lifted his brow and smirked as the Ripper continued its approach. “Jai knows you, does he not? He knows your weaponry, he knows your tactics, he knows your maneuvers. At this point, you might as well paint the ship orange and bark ‘The Omen’ through the beacon. Just saying.” He took another bite of the crunchy green fruit.
Perra clenched her lips and returned her eyes to the console. Zoey’s angered expression melted into a worried gaze. Her head shot back to the viewport as her racing mind struggled to process the obvious verdict. Ross dropped an elbow onto Perra’s headrest and leaned for comfort.
“Shit,” Zoey said. “Okay. Perra, spin everything back down, jump drive too.”
“What?! What if we need to—”
“Perra! No time! Everything down. Leave a single ion cannon online.”
Perra’s horrified expression added twitching eyes and fluttering breaths as she disabled all drives and weapon systems, down to an ion cannon. “Done. I really hope you know what you’re doing.”
Zoey glanced up at Ross, who winked with a cool confidence.
Static erupted from a com speaker overhead, pushing a hissing voice into the cockpit. “Freighter vessel GXR-5442,” the voice said in a mishmash of local dialects. “State the purpose of your presence.”
“Target the Ripper,” Ross said.
Zoey and Perra responded with whipping necks affixed to stunned faces.
“Are you insane?!” Zoey said, throwing her palms into the air.
“What she said!” Perra said, pointing at Zoey.
“Trust a kitty,”
Ross said, maintaining a calm demeanor. He took another bite of fruit and nodded with delicious approval.
Perra lowered her widened eyes to Zoey, who shook her head in disbelief.
“I repeat, state the purpose of your presence,” the com voice said. “I will not ask again. Your destruction shall receive no warning.”
Zoey huffed. “Well, today’s as good as any to die.”
With a hesitant hand, she tapped a sequence of keys, resulting in a ping of target acquisition. The small freighter tilted its stern towards the Ripper as crosshairs aligned in the viewport. Perra buried her face into her hands.
“What’s going on?” Max said, poking his head into the cockpit.
“Your damn cat is about to get us all killed,” Perra said into her shaking palms.
Max caught a glimpse of the Ripper in the viewport, cueing his eyelids to disappear into the back of his skull. Unable to speak in a coherent manner, he lifted a shaking finger and pointed at the spidery vessel. A quivering lip conveyed a healthy amount of terror.
“I am doing nothing of the sort,” Ross said with a measured amount of sternness. He shot a sour gaze at Perra. “Everything is fine, just chill.”
A warning siren buzzed around the cockpit as the Ripper responded with a targeting sequence of its own. Its ominous tentacles expanded into the blackness, silhouetted by the red glow of the rear engines. Strips of arming lights crawled up the arms, creating a burning flower of death.
“Disengage and establish com transmission,” Ross said.
Without question, Zoey tapped her way across the control panel, killing the targeting sequence and backing down from the assault. A few more taps bridged a comlink. She gave a thumbs-up to Ross, who erupted with a barrage of unintelligible hisses and screeches. Zoey, Perra, and Max traded bewildered expressions. Ross raised a single finger, motioning for silence.
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