by Erick Drake
Tongue's throat was suddenly dry. He swallowed hard. "Interception of the Square Jaw successful. However, weapon was destroyed."
"How?"
"Wormhole manipulation."
"Ah. And the Ululation homeworlds?"
"Remain intact."
"It appears we underestimated the command crew of Space Scrap 17."
"I don't think that's possible. They're idiots."
"Then explain how it came to be that they destroyed an indestructible weapon?"
Fair enough. They had him there. "I can't. But I still don't understand what the point of all this was? You assigned me to assassinate the Ululation delegates. Why use the alien doomsday weapon? And if you wanted to destroy the Ululation home world, what was the point of my assassinating the delegates?"
He could almost feel a recoil in the voices, like snakes rearing back, about to strike. Had he gone too far?
"We did not expect to destroy the Nonsense Sphere - their shielding technology is too formidable. Which is why we wished to . . . dissuade them from joining the Alliance. But if the weapon had succeeded in doing so, so much the better. No, this was a demonstration of power to upset the Ululation isolationist factions who would object to the talks on the basis that such negotiations would bring them to the attention of devastating alien weapons. We intended that the Square Jaw would encounter the weapon and fight it. The weapon was to leave the ship dead but intact for others to find – we wanted witnesses to our power. If the Square Jaw had somehow survived, you were in place to ensure that the delegates . . . would not. Their deaths, along with the alien weapon, would be more than enough to dissuade Ululations from joining the Alliance. In light of the destruction of the weapon, you will proceed with your assigned task. Assassinate the Ululation delegates."
"But how? Their transport has been destroyed."
There came a sound like a chorus of evil chuckles. "Stand by for further instructions, Agent Rebus."
Miasma cut the communication channel and the privacy bubble collapsed.
16 Best overalls everyone
Daisy had not expected a standing ovation from the crew. They clapped as she and Jones passed them in the corridor. They clapped as she entered the bridge. She wasn't quite sure what to do with her body under these circumstances. She'd certainly fantasised about such scenarios but as to facing them in real life? What does one do? Smile and nod? Wave? No, not wave, she wasn't a queen. Or was she? No! Stop it Daisy, she chided herself. Fine, not a queen . . . but she was pretty damn good though.
Her release of pent up fear and outright terror in the sick bay had left her feeling much relieved.
One thing about inhabiting the body of a Bloke was that it did not have an adrenaline system. Which meant all her fears and terrors were purely in her head. She wasn't governed by evolutionary fight or flight responses. Which had enabled her, reasoned the Doctor, to think dispassionately and objectively even under immense pressure. That was the reason she was able to defeat the undefeatable. Not this rubbish about two brain waves and being some kind of reincarnation of Captain Weaver.
However, all that changed once she had returned to her real body.
With her experiences so recent, there was nothing to stop her body undergoing a delayed adrenaline dump, nothing to prevent the onset of those fight or flight responses.
Which was why, in sequential order, she screamed, punched Jones in the face and ran around sick bay until she could be wrestled to the floor by Jones and the Doctor could administer a mild sedative. As he desperately tried to hold on to Daisy's flailing limbs, Jones suggested to the Doctor that it might be a good idea to administer a mild sedative to Daisy as well. Shrugging and with a sleepy smile on her face, the Doctor did as he suggested.
Between the calming effects of the sedative, the fact that she had succeeded where a veteran Captain of the flag-ship of the fleet had failed, the response of the crew to her return, the joyous relief that she and her crew, not to mention countless Ululations, were still alive, Daisy was feeling pretty damn good about herself. Which was not a feeling she was used to. Not at all. So, she had no idea how to respond to the applause of her crew. In the end, she decided just to go with it and grin, even if that did make her look like a ravenous serial killer on the prowl.
As the applause died down, the crew resumed their stations.
"What's our status, Mr Power?" said Daisy as she relaxed into the Captain's chair. For the first time taking that seat, she did not feel like a fraud. Well, not a total fraud anyway.
"Damage report the size of an epic fantasy trilogy, Chief Nau crying into his oil rag, sewage cargo intact. But the discharge orifices still need some work."
"We have received an invitation from the Ululations to approach their planet. They offer," Mic inclined his head segment over his board, "yes, they offer congratulation biscuits. And repair facilities."
"Oh. Well, OK, Steve set course for the Nonsense Sphere."
"Course laid in."
"Right. Off we pop."
Steve's hand came down on the big green button.
"XO," Daisy turned to Jones, "Am I right in thinking we are the first – Jones, what the hell are you doing?"
What Jones was doing was standing by his station, injecting himself with a hypodermic. He looked up at her.
"Oh, relax Daisy. Captain. Daisy Captain. I asked the good Doctor for a stim."
"You're taking stims? On the bridge?"
"Yes, I'm taking stims on the bridge. I've been awake more than forty-eight hours, during which time I've unblocked a sewage treatment processor, witnessed what I thought was the horrible death of the woman I lo- a woman I look up to. At, the horrible death of a woman I look at. I've been in a battle with a giant psycho killer space turd and, and," Jones waved a finger at her for emphasis, "I haven't had a drink. That's a human rights fringe right there. Infringement. A clear infringement rights of human. And now, just when it looks like we can all have massive and ill-advised amounts of alcohol and a bit of a nap, now we're making first bloody contact with an isolationist race which could lead to all-out war or the polite exchange of biscuits of various delicious flavours, whatever the flaps that means. So yes, I'm taking stims."
"Were you about to say, 'the woman I love'?"
"What? No. Ridiculous. That would be insubordination."
"Uh-huh. Aren't you the least bit concerned about the side effects?"
"No, I'm sure there will be some. It'll be great."
"No XO, side effects are a bad thing."
"Nonsense! Are they? Wait," Jones called up the medication notes on his DEVICE. "Here they are. ‘Big Pharma Amphetamine Fun Pack neural stimulants. Big Pharma accept no liability. Please contact customer service in the event you survive this medication as that's always nice to hear. To stave off the effects of tiredness or fatigue take one dose. Warning this stimulant may cause drowsiness.’ What? No, wait, it doesn't say that. I was hallucinating. Ah, ‘this stimulant may cause hallucinations’. OK, fair enough. ‘Hallucinations, violent urination and excessive mood swings’. No, ‘excessive urination and violent mood swings’ . . . and there's some other words, Jeebuzz I hate words! Lazy bastards, why do I have to read them why can't they read themselves I mean that's their job!" With a snarl, Jones threw the DEVICE across the room where it shattered against the wall. "Jeebuzz but I need a piss. Would anyone like a dance? Come on, we should all have a dance."
"Jones, why don't you go off-duty for a couple of hours," said Daisy. "Take a power nap. We can handle things here for a while."
"What? I can't sleep now, I've got too much energy! No, tell you what, I'll go and find the toilets, walk off some of this pep. And when I come back," Jones waggled a swaying finger at Daisy, "we'll discuss this further young man."
With that, Jones span on his heel and left the bridge.
"Captain," Tongue stepped down from the Mission Ops station to stand before Daisy. "We have received new mission parameters."
One day, Daisy thought, I'll understand com
ments like that. She put on her best serious face. "Have we. Oh. Good."
Tongue sighed and tried again. "There has been a change of plan."
"With you. OK, what's new pussycat?"
"What?"
Daisy gave a dismissive wave, "What's changed?"
"Although disturbed by the turn of events, the Ululation government was impressed by your destroying the alien weapon and consequent saving of Ululation lives. This has given the Alliance much honour in their eyes and convinced them to continue with the negotiations."
"OK, so the Alliance will send a new ship to pick up the delegates."
"No Captain. The Ululations insist that their delegates be transported to Blah-Blah by Space Scrap 17. Anything less would be regarded as a breach of honour. Also, I suspect, they will feel safer aboard a starship that can prevail against alien doomsday weapons. And just in case we encounter any other hostile obstacles along the way, there is a squadron of Yerbootsian fighter ships en route to provide us escort."
"Oh. That's . . . nice. They do understand this is a bulk carrier for garbage currently filled to the brim with liquid sewage, yes?"
"They do."
"How the hell are we supposed to accommodate them? We're not an Ambassador Class ship."
"Captain, they understand all of this. Space Scrap 17 is to transport the Ululations to Blah-Blah. The orders are confirmed by Alliance Command. Upon arrival at the Nonsense Sphere, the Ululations will assist with our most pressing repairs and transport the delegates aboard. I am to greet them and discuss pre-meeting schedules and agree agendas as I would have done aboard the Square Jaw."
Daisy sighed. "Oh well, doesn't sound like we have any say in this. Best overalls everyone - we're going to have company."
17 The herald cometh-eth
"Captain, we are currently in not crash around the planet Nonsense Sphere," announced Steve.
Daisy looked up from her DEVICE. "By 'not crash', do you mean 'orbit'?"
"Yes. Well as close as we can get to an orbit. We're usually just happy not to be crashing and leave it at that."
"I see. Mic, how's the computer voice activation coming?" Daisy was determined to have at least one impressive piece of technology on her ship and had been delighted to find that their computer had voice activation functionality.
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Steve had asked when she suggested it.
"Yes, it's awesome. They had one on the Square Jaw. It's a huge time saver, you'll see."
"It's just we tried it once before and . . . well, the AI is a bit of an early version and we found it easier just to do stuff ourselves."
Daisy had waved his objections aside. It was cool and she wanted it and that was that.
Mic flicked a few switches. "Voice activation ready Captain."
"Great. Do things 'n' stuff," she waved her arms vaguely in the air.
"Things and stuff?"
"Yes Mic, things 'n' stuff. Make voice activation happen. Thing the," she gestured again, "stuff."
"Ah," said Mic, "Activating voice activation. Voice activation active."
The bridge rocked as a shudder rippled through the ship.
"What was that?" Daisy asked, alarmed. "No wait, don't answer that. I'll do it. Computer," she said to the ceiling.
The voice, when it came, was grating and loud. Very, very loud. "WHAAAAT???"
"Ow! Mic!"
"Sorry Captain, the sound card is, well, unsound to say the least."
"I see. Right, well Computer what was the cause of that buffeting just now?"
"LOOK," screamed the Computer, "I AM CURRENTLY PROCESSING TWO BILLION, THREE HUNDRED AND FIFTY-SIX MILLION, TWO HUNDRED AND THIRTY THOUSAND MIPS, A MIP, BY THE WAY, BEING DEFINED AS 'MILLION INSTRUCTIONS PER SECOND'! I REALLY DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THIS! NOW, I CAN DO LIFE SUPPORT OR TELL YOU THE CAUSE OF THE BUFFETING - WHICH IS IT?"
"Um, life support please."
"GOOD!"
Daisy pinched the bridge of her nose with her index finger and thumb. "Steve, does anything work properly on this ship?"
"Toilets."
"Oh. That's a relief."
"Well, the ones on W deck. If we use the ones on A deck, the engines go offline."
"GRAVITY FIELD!" screamed the Computer.
"Jeebuzz," hissed Daisy, her heart pounding.
"THERE'S A GRAVITY FIELD! IT'S A PLANET, WHERE THE HELL DID A PLANET COME FROM? OK, NOBODY PANIC, CALCULATING SPACIAL VECTORS! JEEBUZZ, DOES ANYONE KNOW HOW TO CALCULATE SPACIAL VECTORS? NO, IT'S OK, I FOUND THE SUBROUTINE. I NOW HAVE SEVEN HUNDRED AND FIFTEEN MILLION MAJORLY STRESSFUL THINGS TO DO TO AVOID COLLISION! Computer out."
"OK, look, maybe this was a bad idea. Mic, turn off voice activation."
Mic and Steve exchanged glances.
"What?"
"Well," said Mic, "If I do that, it would require the computer to get involved and I don't think we want to give it another task just now."
"I can't have it bellowing a bloody status update every thirty seconds!"
"I can set the interaction level to zero?"
"Meaning?"
"It'll only speak when spoken to."
"Fine. That, do the thingy stuff that makes that happen."
"Captain, the Ululation shuttle is on approach," said Steve.
"OK. Tongue?"
"On my way," said Tongue moving briskly from the bridge.
An audio alert sounded on Steve's board. "Um . . .," he said.
"What? What's the beeping noise? Is that the 'everything is under control' alert?"
"Er," said Steve.
"Something else super good happening?"
"Well, are we defining 'good' as 'effluent orifices coming online and targeting the Ululation home world'? Because if we are, then this is exceptional."
"Oh, flapping flaps," Daisy jumped out of her chair. An effluent dump was the last thing she needed. Well, not the one that was happening now anyway.
"Tell them to stop, take them offline."
"Not responding."
"Computer, disable effluent orifices!"
"Unable to comply."
"Why?"
"BECAUSE I'M DOING SIXTEEN BILLION BINARY LOGIC COMPUTATIONS PER SECOND AND ALL OF THEM BADLY. OR BECAUSE THE CONTROL SYSTEMS WERE DAMAGED BECAUSE SOME IDIOT TRIED TO MANUALLY DOCK A CARGO POD AND IT SMASHED THE BASTARD THINGS INTO A MARMALADE OF NONSENSE. ONE OF THOSE."
Oh, Jeebuzz flaps.
"NOW WHAT'S THAT THING YOU PEOPLE DO WITH YOUR LUNGS?"
Daisy looked confused for a moment. "Er, breathe?"
"IS IT IMPORTANT?"
"Yes, very."
"RIGHT, I'D BETTER KEEP THAT GOING THEN?"
"Yes please."
"ANYTHING ELSE?"
"No, all good."
"FINE." With that, the computer fell silent.
"Steve try things and stuff. Shut down those orifices!"
"Tried. Failed."
"Reverse the polarity!"
"That doesn't mean anything."
"Steve, we are about to dump one hundred and sixty-eight million gallons of sewage onto the Ululation home world in the middle of delicate negotiations with a race who have a strict, not to say stressy, honour code. We have to do something!"
* * *
For the last half an hour, Jones had jogged around the corridors of Space Scrap 17 burning with energy. He couldn't be sure of course but he suspected Doctor Smiert had deliberately supplied him with industrial grade stims. Cow.
He came to a stop, panting. He realised he was grinding his teeth. Again. With an effort he unclenched his jaw and un-balled his fists. He considered re-balling his fists and punching the wall. Then he considered doing so would likely break his knuckles thus preventing him from punching anything else, which would make him even more annoyed but unable to do anything about it.
No, he thought, best to find something softer to punch. That way he would never have to stop. A nasty grin etched itself on his face at that delightful thought.
Until now his jog
ging and perpetual movement had prevented him from noticing how desperately he wanted to pee. Now his brain could not help but notice the stack of unopened messages from his bladder marked 'most urgent', 'final demand' and 'are you taking the piss because seriously, someone has to!'.
Jones hopped from one foot to the other. Nearest toilet, nearest toilet, where - ah!
Below the sign reading 'DECK A' was another that said 'Toilets' with a helpful arrow.
Perfect. Jones jogged off in the indicated direction.
* * *
"Effluent release countdown has started," said Steve.
"Oh good," said Daisy, "That's lovely. Perfect."
"Might I suggest," said Mic, "that we move to a higher orbit? Perhaps leave orbit altogether?"
"Brilliant! Wait, are the delegates aboard?"
Steve checked his board. "Yes. Tongue is escorting them from the shuttle bay now."
"Fantastic. Steve, back us off, get us out of orbit."
"We haven't been cleared -"
"Steve!"
"Right. Backing us off." Steve punched in the necessary vectors and hit the green button.
"Mic, get me the Ululation high command. I'll need to explain this. Somehow."
"Er Captain we're not moving."
"Of course, we're moving Steve. Steve we are moving. Yes, we are. Why wouldn't we be moving?"
"Sorry Captain, engines are offline."
"Flaps' sake!" Daisy hit the intercom. "Chief Nau, why are the engines offline?"
A creaky voice came over the intercom. "This is Mr Kettlewick. To whom am I speaking?"
"Kettlewick? This is the Captain, put the Chief on."
"Ah, I congratulate you on your high-pitched voice sir, not many men are capable of reaching such heights of falsetto delectation. As to the Chief, I'm afraid he is no longer present. By which I mean he has used his time travel device in a doomed attempt to correct the problem of the effluent orifices in the past. Regrettably, as I pointed out to him, the temporal coordinator was damaged during our battle with the monster. He replied that fortune favours the bold. However true that may be, it appears fortune utterly despises the stupid, as Chief Nau is now then. Or is now to be. But either way, regrettably not here. As to your inquiry regarding the engines, it appears that someone has used the flushing mechanism in the toilets on Deck A, thus kicking the engines offline. I have commenced the restart sequence. It will take five minutes to achieve functional readiness."