Loren keyed the details into the controls. The Untitled hummed gently and the stars shifted sideways as the ship began to change direction.
“Should I notify the authorities on Cantato Minor, sir?” asked Kevin.
“No!” said Loren, before Cal could open his mouth.
Cal frowned. “No? Why not?”
“She’s right,” said Mech. “We got a million credit bounty aboard. You do not transmit that information through the whole of space. Not unless you want all kinds of trouble.”
“Makes sense,” Cal said, nodding. “Good catch, Loren.”
“Ah,” said Kevin.
Cal raised his eyes to the ceiling. “’Ah?’”
“Well, you see, the thing is, sir, I was so confident that you would answer in the affirmative, that I – and you’ll laugh at this, sir – I had already transmitted the information prior to asking the question.”
“You did what?” Mech barked.
“In hindsight, it may have been an error of judgement on my part.”
“Oh, you think?” said Miz.
“Although, in my defense, I believe there are lessons we could all take away from the situation,” Kevin said. “Were we to look hard enough.”
“Loren, how long until we get there?” Cal asked.
“Just under sixteen hours at full warp.”
“Can we go faster?”
“Faster than full warp?” said Loren, heavily emphasizing those last two words. “No. It’s full warp. That’s as fast as we can go.”
“Wait,” said Cal, frowning. “Isn’t there, like, a ‘fuller’ and ‘fullest’ warp?”
Loren looked back over her shoulder. “What?”
“Full, fuller, fullest. That’s how it works,” said Cal. He looked to Mech and Miz for support. “Right?”
Mech glared back at him with an expression that didn’t just border on contempt, but full-scale invaded it. Mizette picked at her fingernails and didn’t even acknowledge the question.
“OK, well what about the bendy space thing?” Cal asked. “Any closer to figuring that out?”
When Cal and the crew had returned through the wormhole aboard the Currently Untitled, they’d found a whole armada of Zertex ships waiting for them. A holographic button had appeared in the air right in front of Cal which, once pressed, had turned the space around them into something resembling a giant blister, and catapulted them fifty or so light years across the galaxy in the blink of an eye.
Unfortunately, Kevin was now denying all knowledge of any such button, and all other attempts to activate the system again had failed.
“Kevin still insists we’re making it up,” said Loren. “So, no.”
Cal sighed and wriggled into a more comfortable position in his chair. “Fine. Full warp it is. But sixteen hours is a long time if we’re going to have bad guys coming after us. Mech, we’re going to need those weapons up and running.”
“I gotta fix my leg,” replied Mech, indicating the damage to his thigh.
“Oh. OK, cool,” said Cal. “Then we’ll be able to use that to fight off any space pirates and bounty hunters who attack us. Good thinking. Yeah, concentrate on your leg. That’s totally the priority.”
Mech muttered below his breath, then made a show of limping to the door at the rear of the bridge. “Fine. I’ll go work on the fonking weapons.”
“Whatever you think is best,” said Cal, smiling innocently.
“Yeah, yeah. Fonk you, man,” Mech grunted, then the door slid open and he stumbled out into the corridor beyond.
Cal waited for the door to swish closed again, then got up from his chair and crossed to the rear of the bridge. Soonsho watched him as he took the seat beside her, her movements twitching and jerky like a frightened rabbit.
“Hey, it’s OK. Good guys, remember?” Cal said. “We’re taking you home.”
The girl didn’t respond, or show any sign she’d even heard.
“Can she understand me? Can you understand what I’m saying?”
Soonsho nodded, just a fraction.
“Oh, OK, great!” said Cal. “And can you talk?”
A pause, then another nod.
Kevin made a sound like he was clearing his throat, despite the fact he didn’t have one. “I’d strongly advise against pursuing this particular line of questioning any further, sir.”
“What? Why?”
“Had you permitted me to read you the information I was able to compile on Ms Sooss,” Kevin began, with just the faintest hint of accusation in his voice, “you would be aware of her abilities.”
Miz lifted her eyes from her nails long enough to glance at the girl. “Abilities?”
“Her voice,” said Cal. “She flipped those cop cars with her voice.”
“Indeed, sir,” said Kevin. “All female Cantatorians are gifted with a remarkable vocal range. Their songs can enthrall and captivate even the hardest of hearts. Their screams have been known to reduce entire buildings to rubble.”
Soonsho lowered her head and wrung her hands in her lap.
“She could kill you all with a single word,” Kevin concluded.
“That must’ve been what happened to those guys in the house,” Miz realized.
Still holding his smile in place, Cal slowly leaned away from the girl. “OK, great,” he croaked. “That’s really good to know, Kevin, thanks. I mean, a little earlier might not have gone amiss…”
“The information was readily available on screen, sir,” Kevin pointed out. “Oh, and on an unrelated note, I have picked up a signal.”
Cal jumped to his feet. “Pirates? It’s pirates, isn’t it?” He ran to his chair. “Mech! Pirates!”
“It isn’t pirates, sir,” said Kevin.
“Oh,” said Cal. He lowered himself into his seat. “Bounty hunters?”
Loren’s fingers tapped a series of keys. “It’s a distress signal.” A star map slid in from the right of the screen. A red light blinked on and off. “There. It’s a Symmorium Thresher. It’s being attacked by Scrivers.”
“Threshers are war ships, right?” said Cal. “Then it can defend itself?”
“Ordinarily, sir,” said Kevin. “However, the distress signal indicates they have taken substantial damage, and are in no condition to fight back.”
“Cal, it’s the Symmorium,” said Loren. “There are kids on that ship.”
“Uh, hello?” said Miz. “No weapons, remember? What good can we do?”
“Scrivers don’t like a fair fight,” Loren reminded her. “They pull passing ships out of warp and scramble their systems so they can’t fight back. If we turn up, we might scare them away just by being there.”
“Or they might tear us to pieces, too,” Miz argued.
Cal drummed his fingers on his arm rests and clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth as he watched the red dot blink on and off.
“Or it could be a trap,” Cal pointed out. “We’ve got a million credit bounty aboard, and someone – naming no names, but it was Kevin – announced that to the whole galaxy.”
He watched the blinking red dot a little longer. Finally, he turned his chair. “Miz, go tell Mech we need weapons online now. Even just one fonking gun would be a start.”
Miz scowled and gestured to Loren. “Why can’t she do it?”
“Uh, maybe because I’m the pilot?” said Loren.
“Maybe because I’m the pilot,” Miz mimicked. She sighed huffily and got to her feet. “Fine, whatever. I’ll do it.”
“That’s the spirit!” Cal cheered.
“Should I acknowledge the distress signal, sir?” asked Kevin.
“No. We don’t want the Scrivers to know we’re coming.”
“Ah,” said Kevin. “It’s funny you should say that…”
Cal looked up in despair. “Seriously, Kevin. Again?”
“Lessons shall be learned, sir.”
“If the Scrivers tear you a new one, it’ll be your own fonking fault,” Cal scowled, then he wrapped h
is fingers around the end of his arm rests and braced his feet on the floor. “Loren, plot a course. Let’s go save that ship.”
“On it,” said Loren, as the Untitled banked steeply and Cal swallowed back the urge to vomit. “Arriving in three… two…”
The ship snapped to a jerking stop, almost throwing Cal out of his chair.
“Oh, shizz,” groaned Loren.
There, on screen, where she had expected to see a damaged Symmorium Thresher, was a fleet of fierce-looking pirate ships. Dozens of warning lights illuminated on screen as a wide variety of weapons systems locked on.
“It’s a trap.”
“Oh,” said Cal. “You think?”
“Incoming transmission, sir,” announced Kevin. “Should I put it on screen?”
“Why bother?” Cal sighed. “I mean, I assume you’ve already replied, anyway.”
“No, sir. Should I have?”
Cal dropped his head into his hands for a moment, then straightened up. “No. On screen. Let’s talk to them.”
A black square appeared in the top right corner of the viewscreen. A little camera icon flashed up, disappeared briefly, then flashed again.
“Is this… Is it on?” asked a voice over the speakers. “I can’t see nuthin’. Hello?”
Cal’s stomach tightened. That voice. He recognized that voice.
“Oh shizz,” Loren whispered. “Is that…?”
The camera icon blinked off and the black square was replaced by an extreme close-up of what looked like a cliff face with eyes. “Hold up. I can see them. It’s him. Hoo-ya! It’s him!”
The craggy gray expanse pulled back, revealing a figure who appeared to have been hewn from solid rock. He wore a black pinstripe suit which looked to be exactly the wrong size for him, and an expression of utter glee.
Kornack, Warlord of the Remnants, Slayer of the Sh-in’tee, Lord of the K’tubboth and destructor of countless planetary systems fixed his gaze on Cal and rasped his sandpaper tongue across his diamond-edged teeth.
“Eugene Adwin, the Butcher of Planet Earth!” cried Kornack, in that voice he had that suggested he was channeling the ghost of the (presumably) dead Al Pacino. “Hoo-ha! You are not an easy man to find.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Cal and Loren both stared at the screen in horror. Their history with the Remnants warlord was brief, but eventful. It had started with a trade deal, rapidly deteriorated into Kornack’s fetish for cannibals, swung wildly into Cal being pressured to cut off his own arm and eat it, before ending when Cal had buried an axe in the skull of Kornack’s butler, and everyone had run like fonk.
“Do you know how long I’ve been looking for you, Eugene?” asked Kornack. “Do you have any idea how much effort I’ve put into tracking you down. And now – BOOM! – there you are. What a day. What a day! Am I right? Ha!”
Kornack threw a couple of punches at thin air. “Pow-pow! Whoo! You and me, we’re gonna have some fun, Butcher.”
“Uh, hi there!” said Cal. “So good to see you again, Kornack. Have you lost weight?”
Cal’s chair creaked as he shifted around in it. “But, you see, well the thing is… I’m not actually Eugene Adwin. It’s a pretty funny story, actually…”
“Excuse me?” said Kornack, his smile falling away. “What are you talking about?”
“I mean, I’m not the Butcher of Planet Earth,” said Cal. “See, there was this mix-up during the abduction. I was sharing a cell with Eugene when—”
Kornack held up a piece of torn cloth. On it was part of the portrait he’d painted of Eugene Adwin to celebrate his arrival. It showed the Butcher’s chubby baby-like face and wispy white hair. “Are you seriously trying to tell me this ain’t you?” Kornack demanded.
“Well, I mean… it looks nothing like me,” Cal pointed out.
Kornack’s face darkened. “You ungrateful son-of-a-bedge,” he hissed. “That took me weeks.”
“No, I mean, it’s great. Very accurate – you’re really quite the artist,” said Cal. “It’s just… that’s not my face. It’s not even close to my face. Is it Eugene’s face? Sure! But it’s, like, fifty pounds heavier than my face, and completely bald.”
Kornack examined the painting. He looked back at Cal on his screen. He repeated this several times. “I don’t see any difference,” he said, then a broad grin broke out across his face. “Wait a minute, wait a minute,” he laughed, pointing to Cal. “The Butcher of Planet Earth avoided being caught for years on account of being a master of deception. Hoo-ha! You’re the Butcher, alright, and you and me, we got an appointment.”
“Uh, yeah, no,” said Cal. “Loren, punch it!”
Loren jammed the throttle forwards. The Untitled whined and vibrated, but the stars and the other ships remained fixed in place.
“We’re not moving,” said Cal. “Why aren’t we moving?”
“I think… Tractor beam. We’re caught in a tractor beam!”
Kevin’s voice crackled from his speakers. “It appears we are about to be taken rather roughly from behind,” he announced. “If you’ll pardon the expression.”
The left side of the screen swapped from showing the view ahead to the view behind. The enormous gaping maw of a destroyer-sized ship unfolded like a set of jaws behind the Untitled and moved in to swallow it whole.
“What the fonk is that?” Cal whispered.
“I have no idea,” Loren admitted. A shadow crept across the viewscreen, inching its way from the top to the bottom. “But we’re about to find out.”
Kornack leaned forwards until only his eyes and grin filled the comm-screen. “See you inside, Butcher. I got everything set up and ready. Hoo-ha!”
The camera icon returned, but Kornack’s voice continued. “How do I…? Is it off? I think… hello? Why’s that light still—?”
The sound cut off and the comm-screen square slid upwards off the screen. The view of space ahead was narrowing rapidly as the jaws of the much larger ship closed around the Untitled.
“Was that Kornack?” asked Miz, striding onto the bridge. She stopped when she saw what was happening on screen. “Like, what is going on?”
Cal spun in his chair. “To answer those questions in order, one: yes, that was Kornack. He still thinks I’m the Butcher and has apparently been hunting me for quite some time. Yay! And two: I have no idea. But let’s assume it’s nothing good.”
He stood up and shot Soonsho the most reassuring smile he could muster. “This is nothing for you to worry about, OK? It’s just… a hiccup. This sort of thing happens to us all the time. Seriously, it’s pretty ridiculous. I was inside a giant worm a few weeks back. This is actually one of our better days. Everything is going to be just fine.”
The jaws shut around them with an ominous clang. The Untitled shuddered as a pair of enormous mechanical pincers clamped onto it and lowered it onto the darkened deck of the larger ship.
“Probably,” Cal added. “Miz, get Mech. Tell him what’s going on. The weapons will have to wait.”
Mizette tutted. “Like, I literally just came from back there,” she said, but she left without any further argument, but had the door not been automatic, she’d almost certainly have slammed it behind her.
“Splurt.”
The little green blob poked out from under the chair, his eyes gazing up at Cal.
“Best if you stay here, buddy. As far as Kornack’s concerned, you belong to him.” He glared at Loren. “After someone – again, naming no names, but it was Loren – traded you for… whatever it was. I don’t even remember.”
“OK, OK, I’ve apologized,” said Loren. “How many times do I have to say it? I was following orders.”
“You know who else was just following orders, Loren?” asked Cal. “The Nazis.”
“Who are the Nazis?” Loren asked.
Cal sighed. “Forget it. Splurt, stay out of sight. Hide and Seek, OK?”
Splurt boinged happily from under the chair, rolled around in a circle a few times, then rocke
ted off into the corridor. He passed Mech marching in the opposite direction.
“Say what now?” Mech barked, stomping onto the bridge. “Kornack’s got us? I turn my back for five fonking minutes and…” He looked at the viewscreen. “Wait. Where are we? Who turned out the lights?”
“Hey, breathe big guy, breathe,” said Cal, soothingly. “In through the nose, out through the mouth. Let’s not freak out here.”
“Me? I ain’t freaking out,” Mech grunted. “I ain’t the one he wants to watch eat his own arm.”
“Ha. Yeah. Good point,” said Cal. He thought about this for a second, then breathed deeply in through his nose and out through his mouth for several increasingly panicked seconds.
“I’m going to get my jacket,” he said, shoving his way past Mech. “Maybe the leather will stop the axe cutting through. Or, you know, at least make me look stylish while I’m tucking in.”
Darting along the corridor, Cal tapped the button on the wall outside his sleeping quarters. The door slid aside, revealing an unmade bed, several different piles of dirty laundry, and a number of half-empty takeaway containers strewn across the floor.
The tan leather jacket he’d picked up during a space station stop lay abandoned in the corner of the room. It wasn’t technically ‘leather’ in that the material almost certainly didn’t come from cows, but it was close enough.
Cal tapped the touchscreen beside his opaque window as he pulled the jacket on. The glass turned wispy, then transparent, but there was only darkness beyond.
Once he’d finished adjusting his collar, he reached for the controls again. Before his fingers found them, the darkness outside was pushed aside by a series of powerful overhead lights. They switched on in rows, marching their glare in stages across the vast deck of the ship that had swallowed the Untitled.
Kornack had been busy. Through the small window alone, Cal could see four other ships, all pinned to the deck by robotic clamps. He could probably have seen more, were it not for the fact that the fourth ship was a bulky freighter, easily twice the size of the Untitled. The wall was some distance beyond, and there could easily have been half a dozen other ships lined up between it and the freight ship.
Space Team: Song of the Space Siren Page 4