Miz stood up. “Don’t we need to, you know, like find out where she is first?”
“I know where she is,” said Cal.
“You do? Since when?” asked Mech.
“Since I saw her on TV,” Cal said. He hit the elevator control and the door slid open.
“Well, care to enlighten us?” Mech asked.
Cal beckoned for them both to join him in the elevator car. “Air lock,” said Mech, once he and Miz were inside, and the door closed again.
“Where is the most stupidly obvious place she could be?” Cal asked.
“I don’t know,” said Mech. “A Zertex Command station?”
“Bingo,” said Cal. “Whichever one’s closest, that’s where she’ll be.”
Miz frowned. “But why would they do that? They’d know we’d figure that…” She nodded. “Oh. Yeah, I get it.”
“That’s exactly what Sinclair wants. Us,” said Cal.
“Well, mostly you,” said Mech.
“Yes, granted, mostly me,” said Cal. “I don’t know quite why he’s got such a hard-on for me – hey, I can say ‘hard-on’! – but luckily for us, it makes him predictable.”
The elevator stopped and the door slid open again, revealing a long white plastic tunnel ahead of them. Cal gestured towards it. “Now let’s all slide down this giant robot penis, and go get our friend back.”
* * *
As soon as Cal stepped aboard the Untitled, Splurt bounced into his arms. Cal rubbed his knuckles against the little goo-ball’s head (or the top part of his almost spherical body, at least) and grinned.
“Hey, I missed you, too, buddy!”
“It is so good to have you all back aboard,” chimed Kevin. “Although, Master Splurt and I invented rather a fun game.”
Splurt’s eyes rolled slowly upwards to meet Cal’s gaze. It was a look that spoke volumes. Cal made a mental note never to ask Kevin about the game again.
“OK, let’s get to the bridge. Kevin, best detach from the big space penis and get us ready to go. What’s the nearest Zertex Command station?”
“Zertex Command Six, sir.”
“Then that’s where we’re going, all guns blazing if we have to,” Cal instructed. “Mech, Miz, did either of you remember to bring Nana Joan’s guns over from the Colossobot?”
“Shizz,” Mech muttered. “They’re still over there.” He waved a hand. “It’s fine. We got plenty.”
“Cool, then break them out and get them ready. Again, we may need to go in all guns blazing.”
Miz was gazing out through the airlock at the flapping plastic tunnel which still connected the Untitled to the Colossobot. “It’s kind of a waste, not taking that thing,” she said. “I mean, for something built by Zertex, it was pretty awesome.”
“You mean pretty space awesome,” Cal said, much to Mech’s annoyance. “But yeah, it could have come in handy.”
“Pre-programming it to take us here is one thing,” said Mech. “But if we wanted to take it into battle, we’re gonna need a crew of at least ten.”
“Yeah,” said Cal. “Or someone who could operate ten terminals at once.”
He gazed out through the airlock for a while.
He blinked, very slowly.
And then, with the beginning of a smile creeping across his face, he looked down at the pulsating ball of slime in his arms.
“Oh, man. I just came up with a plan,” he said. He grinned at Mech. “But I don’t think you’re going to like it.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Loren allowed her weight to sag forward on her chains. She was mentally drained and physically exhausted, and the pain of the restraints cutting into her wrists was the only thing keeping her awake. Her head had been unclamped, but only because the head restraint had made hitting her more difficult.
She was standing in wet underwear, and was cold and hungry. Not so much thirsty – the hundreds of gallons of water blasted into her face at regular intervals was keeping her pretty hydrated – but her hunger was making her legs weak and her head light, and it was becoming increasingly difficult for her to concentrate on anything else.
One thing she was keeping a close eye on, though, was the door. It was closed now, and she was alone in the room, but it never stayed that way for long. It would open again soon, she knew, and Sinclair, Dash, or possibly both at once, would come in to talk to her, hose her, or – again – possibly both at once.
When her brother had first come in alone, she’d felt a swelling of hope. He was there to rescue her, surely? The sight of his younger sister tied up and helpless had proved too much for his conscience to deal with.
But no. He’d ignored her pleas for help, reiterated his loyalty to Zertex, and told her how ashamed of her their parents were, before hitting her with the water cannon. Now, whenever the door opened, she hoped it was Sinclair. Her feelings about him were far less mixed.
Her stomach twisted itself into knots. Fonk, she was hungry. Were they going to starve her to death, she wondered? That would seem unlikely. It certainly wasn’t in any of the Zertex manuals she’d studied at the academy. Then again, nor was blasting your own sister in the face with water until her brain screamed at her that she was about to drown, so it was always a possibility.
Loren’s eyes closed.
Some time passed.
When her eyes opened, President Sinclair was standing in front of her. Instinctively, she tried to lash out at him, but the chains stopped her immediately. He skipped back all the same, making a show of it.
“Whoa there, you almost got me, slugger,” he said, laughing in that fond, slightly patronizing sort of way a parent might laugh at their child’s first attempt at a joke. “Do you have any idea how much this shirt costs?”
Loren spat on the shirt and felt a brief moment of satisfaction, before the back of Sinclair’s hand cracked her across the jaw.
“That wasn’t nice,” he said. “That is going to come out of your back pay, young lady.”
He contemplated brushing the phlegmy wad away, but decided against it. “Anyway, here’s something that might put a smile on your face,” Sinclair continued. “A ship has just entered the quadrant and is on a direct course here. And not just any old ship, because why would I come in here to tell you that any old ship was on its way?”
Sinclair pointed at Loren and winked. “Your ship,” he said. “Well, technically it’s my ship that you and your friends stole from me, but… Ah, you get the point.”
Loren blinked several times. The pain in her face was helping her focus, but it wouldn’t last long. “Cal?” she mumbled.
“The very same!” Sinclair crowed. “At least, I assume it’s him. I mean, who else is it going to be, right? Your knight in shining armor, riding to the rescue. I knew he couldn’t resist.”
He looked Loren’s taut but bruised body up and down. “I mean, who could?” Sinclair said, then he winked again in a way that made Loren want to throw up.
It didn’t make sense. She’d taken the ship. She’d left them behind. It couldn’t be them. How could it be them?
And yet, at the same time, she knew it was. Even though she’d left them stranded hundreds of light years away with no money and no means of transport, she knew they’d find a way. That he’d find a way.
Loren found the strength to pull herself into a standing position. She met Sinclair’s eye and matched his smile with one of her own.
“Oh, Hayel,” she said, tilting her head slightly as she gave the president a sympathetic look. “You are so totally fonked.”
* * *
“We are so totally fonked!” cried Mech, steadying himself against his console as a crackling ball of energy exploded against the front shields.
“Kevin! Jesus Christ, can you at least try to avoid the missiles?” Cal yelped.
“Torpedoes, sir.”
“What?”
“Torpedoes, sir. We have missiles, they have torpedoes. Would you like me to explain the distinction?”
&n
bsp; “No! Just stop flying into them!”
“Very good, sir.”
The ship rocked as another torpedo slammed into it, making the shields flicker and flash.
“I can’t believe I’m even saying this,” Miz muttered. “But, like, even Loren was better than this.”
“You hear that, Kevin?” Cal called. “Even Loren. Even Loren.”
“Sorry, sir. It’s just, well, there are rather a lot of targets, and I’m having to split myself between piloting the ship and operating the weapons,” Kevin explained. “Not to mention all the other little jobs that must continue as usual, such as remembering to leave the oxygen on, and flushing the automatic toilet.”
“Wait, you flush the toilet?” asked Cal. “Next time, could you maybe not do it when I’m halfway through? It’s kind of off-putting.”
Two Zertex fighters screamed past, their cannon-fire hammering the Untitled’s shields.
“OK, give me the guns,” said Cal.
A single joystick twanged from below his seat. Cal shook his head. “No. I mean all the guns.”
“Are you sure, sir?”
Another torpedo erupted at the front of the ship, close enough to make Mech instinctively duck. “Just give him the fonking guns!” the cyborg snapped.
“Very good,” chimed Kevin.
The joystick retreated into the floor. Meanwhile, the headrest of Cal’s chair unfolded itself until it gripped his skull like a brace. Cal’s eyes widened as two sharp pricks pierced his temples, and a coldness rushed to fill his brain.
“Whaaa duuuu fooooonnn?” he managed to dribble, then he was suddenly alone in outer space, surrounded by hundreds of Zertex fighters, all of which were approaching in a variety of attack formations.
Zertex Command Six, the vast space station where Loren was almost certainly being held, hung in silhouette against a dim red sun. It looked almost close enough to touch, and as Cal reached for it, a ball of fire erupted from his palm.
“Jesus! Did I do that?”
“Indeed, sir,” said Kevin. “The weapons systems are currently merged with both your conscious and unconscious brain. They take their commands from your actions and intentions. To all extents and purposes, you are the weapons.”
“Also,” said Mech’s voice. “I’m pretty sure you just wet yourself. I ain’t judging or nothing, just saying.”
Two Zertex ships came banking towards Cal, their torpedo tubes glowing white hot. Cal raised both hands, palms open, and two long beams of white energy carved through their shields, slicing both ships in half.
“Alright!” Cal cheered.
The universe spun as Kevin climbed and turned sharply. Cal instinctively tried to grab onto something, but he was floating in the endless void, and could only flail around at nothing.
“More fighters, coming in fast,” Mech informed him.
Cal twisted his head, searching the sky. “I see them,” he said. He pumped his right arm forwards, firing torpe… No, launching missiles at the approaching ships. They turned to dodge the projectiles, and flew straight into another of the white energy beams, scything themselves neatly in two.
“I love this!” Cal cried.
“That’s good man, because I think you may have also now shizzed your pants.”
Cal didn’t care. Well, he cared a bit, obviously, but it could wait until he was back in his body. Right now, he felt like a superhero. No, more than that. He felt like a god.
A torpedo tumbled towards him. He detonated it with a sweep of his hand before it could get too close. With the other hand, he punched at the approaching Zertex craft, and five little flares spat from his fingertips. They swarmed the enemy ship, circling around it like wasps, then vanished into its various orifices.
A moment later, the ship went dark and drifted over Cal’s head, rolling slightly as it sailed on into the abyss.
“Zertex fighters pulling back, sir,” Kevin announced, and Cal actually felt a little disappointed.
“Of course they are,” he said. “They know when they’re beat. Also, this whole thing was just for show. They want us on board that station.”
“Uh, look to your left, man,” said Mech.
Cal turned and his virtual jaw fell open. The smaller fighter craft weren’t pulling back, they were moving into formation. A formation that involved three Zertex Battle Cruisers, each one the size of several large cities all bolted together into one.
“OK, that’s not good,” Cal said. He looked down at his hands. “Kevin, do we have anything that could take out those big guys?”
“The beam cannons could,” Kevin said. “Given enough time.”
“How much time?”
Kevin contemplated this. “About eleven months, sir.”
“Eleven months?”
“Give or take.”
Cal eyed the approaching armada, and suddenly felt like a tiny ant. A tiny ant that was about to be shot to pieces by a lot of very big spaceships. “And there’s nothing else?”
“No, sir,” said Kevin. “Although… There is the Omega Cannon.”
Cal winced. “Do you know what it does yet?”
“No, sir.”
“Can you figure it out in the next forty seconds or so?”
“No, sir.”
Cal almost considered using the weapon, but without knowing what it did, or what the consequences of firing it might be, he knew he couldn’t.
“If we survive this, we really need to figure out what that thing does,” he said.
Across the divide, the Zertex ships were readying their weapons to fire. The Zertex Command station was off to the right, almost midway between the Untitled and the armada.
“Can we reach the station before they blow us to bits?”
“Not without a distraction, sir,” said Kevin. “Should I alert Master Splurt?”
He flexed his fingers in and out, then sighed. “I guess we’re going to have—”
“We got another ship coming in,” Mech interrupted.
“Great,” said Cal. “Someone else to shoot at us.”
The ship that warped to a sudden stop in front of the Zertex fighters was small and boxy-looking, and didn’t really seem to be much of an additional threat. Cal had just made the decision to ignore it, when Kevin spoke again. “They’re sending a broadcast. All frequencies. Should I put it through?”
“Go for it.”
A voice crackled from nowhere. It was a voice Cal recognized, although it took him a second to place it.
“Uh, food delivery,” said Higgsy. “I have an order here f-for a Mr Zertex.”
There was silence for a moment, presumably while someone from the Zertex side replied.
“Oh, no, it definitely says Mr Zertex here. Uh, please hold, while I get my supervisor.”
There was a crackling sound, as if someone was handing a headset to someone else. Nana Joan’s voice spoke with far more authority than Higgsy.
“This is Nana Joan of Nana Joan’s restaurant. To whom am I speaking?”
“What are they doing?” Miz asked.
“Giving us our distraction,” said Cal. “Kevin, can we make it to the station while they’re busy?”
“They got a hundred ships,” said Mech. “You don’t seriously think they’re all so focused on one fonking food truck that they ain’t going to notice us?”
“It’s worth a try,” said Cal. “Kevin, punch it.”
The Untitled banked towards Zertex Command. Almost immediately, thirty or so fighters broke off in pursuit.
“No, they definitely noticed us,” said Cal. “We totally screwed that up.”
“We?” Mech spluttered. “Who’s this we you’re talking about?”
“Perhaps not, sir,” Kevin said. “Perhaps we, too, are part of the distraction.”
“How?” Cal asked. “What are we distracting from?”
“From them, sir.”
Behind the Zertex fleet, several hundred pinpoints of light stretched out and became ships. Even at that dista
nce, Cal spotted the shark-like design painted onto the more aggressive-looking fighters.
“The Symmorium!” said Cal. “The fonking Symmorium are here.”
The Alaska-sized Symmorium Destroyer appeared behind the other ships and immediately opened fire on the nearest Zertex Battle Cruiser. The Zertex fighters pulled back from the Untitled and focused their efforts on the Symmorium fleet, instead.
“Transmission from Subsent Takta,” said Kevin. “Would you like me to patch him through, sir?”
“Please.”
A square appeared in the air in front of Cal, like a window opening in space. Subsent Takta appeared, looking none too pleased.
“On the orders of the Symmorium Sentience itself, we are tasked with offering you whatever support we can,” he grunted. “We will provide cover while you extract your companion, then we will blast this station out of the sky. If Zertex wants a war, then we will give them one.”
“Thanks for the save, sharky,” said Cal. “But don’t worry about the war thing. We’re going to take care of it.”
Takta’s gray hide brow furrowed. “I don’t understand.”
“You don’t have to,” said Cal. “You just have to keep everyone busy out here, and trust us.”
“I do not trust you, Mr Carver,” Takta said. He sighed. “But the Sentience does. We shall do as you request.”
The Symmorium leader’s image vanished, revealing the beginnings of a full-scale space battle. Ships whizzed past, lasers blasted, torpedoes fired, shields flickered and flared. Cal was transfixed for a moment, before another face appeared, blocking his view.
“Hello, dear,” said Nana Joan.
“Nana. How the fonk did you find me?” Cal asked.
Nana smiled, then tapped the side of her nose. “My little secret. Like I said, we employers have to know where our staff are at all times, and you’re still technically on the books.”
“Hi Cal!” said Higgsy, leaning into shot behind the old lady. Jork popped his head in from the other side, followed a moment later by a now normal-sized Alan at the bottom.
“The gang’s all there,” said Cal. “That’s great. Really. But, uh, we’re about to storm an evil lair, so now’s possibly not the best time for reunions.”
Space Team: The Guns of Nana Joan Page 22