The Emperor digested Crystallan’s information. He looked downwards towards his feet, closing his eyes for a moment in thought. Then he looked back up and into Flezza Crystallan’s eyes.
“Sufficient,” The Emperor said, “Order Killian’s fleet to return to Enrilea,” he said, “Order the second Armada to strike back against the human home world. Earth.”
Crystallan swallowed. He nodded gravely.
“Full attack, Master Crystallan,” The emperor’s voice sounded tired, “Destroy them all.”
TWENTY ONE
2195AD - Jann Linn’s Ship.
There was food on board the ship. Quinn had discovered the transparent plastic containers as the two men had moved Jann Linn’s body to the rear of the ship. Silverman argued that the dead scientist should be disposed of as soon as possible, but Cass Linn seemed reluctant to part with her father’s corpse. Quinn was more concerned with the food containers. At his instruction, Matt had gathered them together. Finally, the two men had assembled eight small plastic boxes and five bottles of water.
“Well, the water is water,” Quinn stated, “And for the two of us that’s maybe a week’s worth if we start rationing it. Now we need to figure out if this is food or not.”
Cass Linn hovered nearby. She staggered forward when she spoke, scaring Matt for the hundredth time.
“The boxes contain food,” The robot said, “I prepared them for father myself.”
“Yes, my dear,” Quinn said kindly, “But we’re different, perhaps. The food might not be suitable for our bodies.”
The robot did not understand. But there were many things that Cass did not understand so she did not pursue the matter. Instead, she continued her distraction with Matt Silverman’s hair. She had been counting the strands before lurching forward to speak. Now she found it impossible to find the last hair she had counted. She began to count again, but this time she reached to touch his hair with her precision hand. Her intention was to bend back one of the longer hairs at the back of his neck just in case she lost count again.
“Holy cow!” Silverman yelped, “Don’t do that!”
“I’m sorry. I lost count,” The robot said quietly, “You have over fifty thousand hairs on the back of your head.”
Quinn was laughing. Silverman shook his head and rubbed the place where the robot had plucked a hair out by the root. She was still holding it between her slender, pincer-like fingers.
“You’re counting the hairs on my head?” Silverman asked. He continued to lean away from the robot, “Why?”
It was a question that Cass Linn had never considered. She tried to find an answer but nothing occurred to her. She stared closely at the different colours of his hair and, suddenly, knew what to say. Thirty two seconds had passed and the two men were talking about the food again. The older man had opened one of the boxes and was carefully sniffing one of the compressed meals she had prepared.
“I like the colour,” She said.
“Smells like…” Quinn made a face, “I don’t know what it smells like. Earthy, maybe...”
Silverman had heard the robot. He turned back to her and looked straight at her single remaining eye.
“The colour of my hair?”
“Yes,” Cass Linn swayed forward as she spoke, “Your hair reminds me of fire.”
Matt smiled. The robot’s voice, whilst obviously mechanical, had a softer tone. The buzzing had stopped, almost. And it had quietened enough that Silverman took time to consider the robot. It had asked if it was alive. It did not know whether it was or not. How could it not know if it was alive or not? And what did its creator think he was doing telling it that he didn’t know either. It had to be alive. The expressionless silver face reflected Matt’s own puzzled expression. He was trying to smile, but Cass Linn did not realise this.
Quinn had discovered some salted crackers. He found them more palatable than the dry, sour block of waxy brownness. He’d eaten five before he thought of his young friend. He turned to Matt, three crackers held out like a fan.
“These are good,” He said, continuing to eat.
Matt’s stomach growled. The sound startled Cass Linn and she swayed backwards, almost falling over. Matt Silverman reached out swiftly - he’d always had quick reflexes – and stopped her body before it toppled over. He waited until he was sure she was balancing properly before releasing her cold metal shoulders. The fingers of her precision hand brushed against his as he withdrew his grip. He barely noticed. Cass felt a tiny electronic firework display somewhere in her subconscious. It did not mean too much to her. Matt took one of Quinn’s crackers and pushed the whole thing into his mouth. He snapped it in half with his tongue and swallowed greedily. He crunched down on a second and third cracker at the same time. They were delicious. Silverman and Quinn emptied one of the boxes of crackers. Cass Linn watched Matt Silverman carefully. She wanted to reach out and touch his hair again, but instead she kept counting the long, multi-hued strands.
2195AD - EWS Justice Six.
Justice Six was still moving. Jaxx was purposefully manoeuvring the ship to provide the illusion that Justice Six was crippled. The energy cannons were fully charged and ready to fire. The main engines were poised to thrust the ship straight towards the approaching enemy. Justice Six had been badly damaged by the USS Drake, but the engines and weapons were operational - mostly. Jaxx guessed that the approaching craft would quickly overpower his own ship, but he intended to inflict enough damage to prevent the Neil Armstrong from fleeing. Two more powerful Enrilean warships were on the way from their orbital park above Throne City. But the Neil Armstrong would be within weapons range long before the powerful Devastation arrived on the scene. More medium and large ships were still hurtling through space, hundreds of light years from Enrilea, making their way through the web of wormholes between themselves and their home system. Jaxx doubted that even this much larger earth vessel could be a match for Devastation. Devastation was an old ship, like the Justice Six. It was heavily armoured and packed full of bombs that could destroy entire cities. Those weapons would not be much use against the USS Neil Armstrong, but the Devastation had been retrofitted with massive, long range railguns and devastating rapid-firing plasma energy cannons. Jaxx’s new second in command, the inexperienced and openly terrified Hunter Lannzin, had quaveringly stated his concern about the Admiral’s plans. One quick glance from Jaxx had silenced him. Finn’s blood still stained the floor where he’d fallen, killed after questioning his commanding officer one too many times. The instrument of Finn’s death was back on Jaxx’s hip. Its crooked blade gleamed where it protruded from the open end of the hard, hand sewn scabbard. Jaxx’s hideous features were set in stone. But there was a new intensity there. It was almost a passion, Lannzin thought. Something about the situation had brought Jaxx to life, it seemed. The irony was that the situated would most likely result in the entire crew’s deaths – including Admiral Hazer Jaxx. The human spacecraft was almost within weapons range. Justice Six did not have any real hope of overpowering the massive carrier. But Jaxx did not seem to care. He seemed determined to inflict even the slightest damage upon his enemy – even at the cost of his own life and the lives of everyone on board.
“Enemy will be within our weapons range in four minutes,” Lannzin reported, “We cannot hope to survive this engagement, Admiral.”
“We’ll slow them down,” Jaxx said, “That is all we need to do, Mr Lannzin.”
Lannzin swallowed. He felt a momentary pang of annoyance. He hoped it did not show in his eyes. Everyone knew Jaxx’s story. He’d been captured by the Relathon security forces shortly before the war. He’d made a failed attempt at suicide and the poison had eaten away most of his cheekbones, throat and the lower part of his jaw. His nerves had been damaged too. Most of his facial muscles no longer worked very well, if at all. The left side of his body was weak – particularly his arm – even if he still had a fairly strong grip. Jaxx clearly had a death wish, but nobody else on the Justice Six did.
Lannzin had a brief, fleeting moment of sudden madness. He wanted to challenge Jaxx. Grab the knife and tear out the withered, reddened turkey’s gizzard of a throat. For just the shortest of moments, Lannzin felt his rage surge.
“Yes, Admiral,” He said.
Jaxx looked like he might be about to smile. His lips twitched, drooling slightly. He stared deep into Lannzin’s soul. Lannzin imagined that the Admiral was reading his mind. Somehow Jaxx had read the fire in his eyes, the narrow set, the twitch of subtle disobedience. The dagger was about to follow, buried suddenly into his heart by that grotesque twisted monkey’s paw. But the dagger did not come and Jaxx was indeed smiling. It was a devil’s smile. A smile made cruel and almost sad by Jaxx’s disfigured countenance. But Jaxx’s eyes were a furnace.
“You want to live. You have Heart,” Jaxx said.
Jaxx was nodding his head. There was no time for the scene between these two men to continue. They were about to discover new things about one another. Lannzin was about to learn that Jaxx was more than the embittered, insane, psychotic murderer he’d pegged him for. Jaxx would have found out that Lannzin might someday become a strong and reliable right hand man. But it was too late for that now. The ship lurched forward. Jaxx fell against his new second in command. Lannzin felt his heart stop. For a crazy moment he thought that Jaxx was pushing his dagger into him. He quickly realised that the ship had just taken off at full speed. Jaxx lacked the muscle strength to steady himself. Lannzin felt the Admiral’s breath hot against his cheek. Then Jaxx was pushing himself upright and away. He turned towards the weapons officer.
“All weapons – ready!” Jaxx barked. Back to business. Back to war. Fighting, death. The things he knew and loved more than anything else.
Justice Six surged towards the USS Neil Armstrong. The move did not exactly surprise Captain O’Rourke, but he noted that some of the bridge officers were startled to see the alien spacecraft suddenly leap through space towards them.
2195AD - USS Neil Armstrong.
“Steady,” O’Rourke said, “Stand by long range weapons.”
“Weapons range in thirty seconds,” Strange said.
“Weapons free, Chris,” O’Rourke said.
Justice Six’s long range weapons were the powerful particle cannons. But Justice Six was five seconds out of range when the USS Neil Armstrong’s twin plasma cannons opened fire, destroying two of Justice Six’s Ion weapons with well-placed splashes of high-energy ionized gas. The remaining two Ion cannons jammed as energy from their damaged counterparts shorted and burned out shared components and energy relays. Moments later, Lieutenant Sylvean Harris
The still functional Gatling cannon rattled off a hundred bullets before the Armstrong’s energy beams shorted, severed and sizzled the gun to uselessness. The huge bullets hammered into the big ship’s armoured hull, easily penetrating the portside hangar doors. Atmosphere began venting into space as larger parts of the smashed doors began to disintegrate. But secondary doors slid into place, preserving the hangar integrity and protecting what remained of the damaged doors.
“Offensive weapons destroyed, sir,” Strange reported, “Enemy vessel still heading towards us. Distance eighteen hundred miles.”
“Now, I wonder if those lunatics are going to try smashing their damaged carcass into us,” O’Rourke whispered, “Chris, take out their engines just in case they’re crazy enough to try.”
Admiral Jaxx was, indeed, sending the Justice Six straight at the massive USS Neil Armstrong. Armstrong’s energy cannons danced uselessly against the Enrilean ship’s thrust nozzles for two seconds before finding and igniting a fuel conduit. The drive system exploded with a satisfying flash of light and energy. Justice Six slewed to the left, still moving towards Armstrong at full speed. The carrier reversed its engines momentarily, slowing just enough so that the portside thrusters could manoeuvre the ship out of the tumbling Justice Six’s path.
Armstrong sped past the Justice Six. But Justice Six’s engines were shutting down and thrusters were beginning to control the spin. As Armstrong flew past, smaller, short range weapons opened fire. Hard railgun sabots and blazing plasma energy bolts streaked through space towards the Armstrong’s damaged hangar doors. Loonifir’s targeting was precise and the Armstrong’s secondary hangar doors were completely blasted to nothingness. But, inside the hangar, emergency decompression had already taken place. The eighteen Predator fighters were trapped inside the hangar, but there were no casualties. Within a handful of seconds, Armstrong was beyond the Justice Six close range weapons.
Justice Six’s sensors had not detected the six Predators following close behind the big ship. They registered the fighters only briefly before the sensors were destroyed. Within twenty seconds, the short range weapons dotted around the Justice Six had all been blasted by the Predator pilots. The manoeuvring thrusters were the next targets. The engines were destroyed within moments. Helpless and powerless, Jaxx’s ship continued on its last course through space. A sparkling trail of burning metal and fuel formed a twisting corkscrew for a million miles. The USS Neil Armstrong powered onwards, leaving behind the six fighters and a Rocket Rescue packed with twelve armed marines.
“Signals from USS Drake wreckage!” communications reported eagerly, “Weak, but definitely authenticated.”
“Survivors?” O’Rourke was surprised, “I didn’t expect that. Alright, prepare for reverse burn. Get rescue ships out there the moment we arrive. We’re going to have keep this pretty tight if we want to avoid the bigger ships.”
“What about the Justice Six?” Strange asked.
“We haven’t the time to take prisoners – or to try to take the ship. If they show any further signs of aggression, we take them out. Keep weapons systems ready and get another flight of Predators out there.”
“You know, Liam, I’m a little bit surprised,” Strange paused, frowning, “I mean, I always thought you were going to want them all dead.”
O’Rourke opened his mouth. He looked at his officer. He closed his mouth again. He thought about shaking his head, but he didn’t bother.
2195AD - London.
“You fell asleep. I stared at you for a bit. I even considered messing around with you a little bit. But I didn’t.”
“I wouldn’t have minded.”
“Now you tell me,” He laughed, “Anyways, I didn’t. I thought about it, to be honest. But I didn’t know if my poor little cock was up for it again. I don’t need to tell you this shit. If I’d screwed you in your sleep I’d have told you. So you know what I did?”
“What?”
“I read an actual book.”
“You are fucking kidding me now. If you told me you fucked around with me while I was passed out, I’d have believed it. But telling me that you read a book? I don’t believe that for a moment.”
“It’s true. I might have even learned something. Maybe.”
“I doubt it.”
He laughed. “Yeah, me too.”
She rolled over. She didn’t make any attempt to cover her nakedness. The silk sheet fell away, revealing her toned upper torso. He ogled her small, perky breasts quite openly. He raised his eyebrows and nodded slowly, appreciatively.
“Nice,” He said.
“You know it,” She lit a cigarette, “You fucking know it.”
The smell of cannabis filled the room. It was a thick, sweet smell.
“Shit, you know Frankenstein is going to do his fucking party turn if he finds out you’re smoking that shit again,” he complained, “But don’t hog it all whatever you do. Give us a blast over here.”
“Yes, sir!” she took a long drag from the cigarette before handing it across, “What was the book?”
His dark eyebrows formed a thick bridge as he frowned. He sucked on the hashish cigarette, breathing the smoke deep into his lungs. He held the smoke in his lungs for a good few seconds. She smiled broadly AND reached across to poke him in the stomach. Rigg started to cough, laughing between each hack of his throa
t.
“Christ you’re a witch.”
“Sexy witch, you mean. Sexy bitch witch!” Lindsey took the cigarette back and dragged on it, “What was the book?”
“Christ, how the fuck did you ever get to be in a position of authority?”
“Fucking skill, Charlie. That’s why. Because I have the skill and the talent,” She took another drag on the cigarette, “I’m wondering how the fucking fuck you would ever become President of the United States of America.”
Rigg shrugged. He wrestled Bonneville for the smoke and she gave it up after taking a long, third drag.
“I’m Charlie Rigg. That’s all I need to become President of the United States of America. This face. This beautiful, fucking boy next door turned outstanding American athlete superhero. This fucking face, Lindsey.”
She laughed.
“You shouldn’t smoke this shit. You’re crazy enough without it.”
“And you’re sexy enough without it.”
She laughed again. She saw that familiar look in his eyes and smiled wryly.
“You are just incorrigible,” She said, “You are an incorrigible machine.”
“Finish your smoke,” He said, “And bring your ass over here. I have a matter of national security for you to take care of.”
She rolled into his arms. He smelled of stale sweat and cheap after shave. His breath smelled like a bad combination of Southern Comfort and calcium decay. She kissed his lips hard, holding her breath.
“What was the book?”
Beyond the Starport Adventure (Bullet Book 1) Page 39