An Accidental Alliance (32 page)

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Authors: Jonathan Edward Feinstein

Tags: #Science Fiction/Fantasy

BOOK: An Accidental Alliance
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Carrying on a conversation with Ronnie, Iris found, required a flexible mind capable of discussing several things at once, but once she got used to jumping back and forth between topics, it got easier. It was not that Veronica’s mind leapfrogged back and forth in an undisciplined manner. She was capable of working on several problems at once; her only limitation being the spoken language and its inability to communicate more than one idea simultaneously.

     
The cargo bay missile launcher was ready a week later although Ronnie wanted time to improve the payloads, but when a breakthrough in phaser technology occurred, she turned to that. When she and her team managed to get one of the early attempts at a phaser to work, Iris mounted it on the bow of
Trenisi
just before they lifted off on the second repair mission.

     
“Looks just like the laser we had,” Park noted, when Iris showed it him proudly.

     
“It is the laser we had or rather one of it’s kin,” Iris told him. “Ronnie reworked it into a multiphase job. It’s still a visible light laser, not X-ray like the Galactics’ models, but it will do for now. We also have a defense again the plasmacaster.”

     
“I heard about that,” Park nodded. “Some of Taodore’s friends worked out a magnetic defense using a steel screen inside the cabin walls.”

     
“It looked strange with all the bulkheads open like that while they were installing it,” Iris nodded, “but the
Phoenix Child
will have it built into the design and should be even more effective.”

     

Phoenix Child
?” Park asked. “She already has a name?”

     
“It was Marisea’s idea,” Iris explained. “She learned about the phoenix from old human legends and liked it so much she’s been talking everyone into it. She even taught an entire class on the subject to the Atackack students. Now that was funny.”

     
“Why?” Park asked.

     
“It turns out Atackack religion has a similar figure as one of its main spirits, except instead of a bird, it’s a flaming insect. They had a hard time with the concept of a flying bird. None of the birds and postavians in Pangaea can fly, you know, and they repeatedly told her she must be mistaken and asked if maybe she meant one of those postmamalian bats if it wasn’t an insect.”

     
“I’m surprised they didn’t suggest one of those flying octopi,” Park laughed. “With a bladder full of hydrogen those critters really will burst into flame if they aren’t careful. What
 
are they called?”

     
“The Mer call them
haweeta
,” Iris replied. “The Atackack call them
gractatac
, I think. It’s hard to pronounce. Who’s on the crew for this mission?”

   
  
“Well, it’s Paul’s turn to be the pilot,” Park replied. “Tina wasn’t happy about that – can’t say as I blame her – but she took it with good grace, or as good as anyone could expect considering she wants payback.”

     
“You could offer her the co-pilot’s chair,” Iris suggested.

     
“Then what would I do?” Park asked.

     
“You’re the captain,” she pointed out. “Besides you’ve been training in every position. You’ll be ready to fill in wherever needed. Now about Marisea…”

     
“She’s going,” Park said instantly.

     
“You’re giving in very easily,” Iris remarked.

     
“I want her to get some experience as navigator,” Park told her. “Besides, Velvet’s insisting Marisea be there for the repairs. Small hands, remember?”

     
“I thought I was navigator,” Iris remarked.

     
“You’ll supervise,” Park told her, “but we’re not taking chances this trip, I want you at the weapons’ console most of the time.”

     
“I’m not the only one trained in the weapons,” Iris told him. “I’m good, but there are three others who are equally good, I think.”

     
“You’re also modest,” Park told her. “For pilot, any of our people will do, but you’re right, I’ll offer Tina the co-pilot’s seat. That leaves me in the back cabin with Velvet’s crew, but I’m a big boy. I can take it. However, it’s like I said, we’re not taking chances and you are the only one on this world with real experience in space warfare.”

     
“One shot with a laser is hardly experience,” Iris remarked.

     
“I know you can pull the trigger,” Park insisted. “I can’t say that about anyone else. We lift in two days.”

     
Park’s next surprise occurred just an hour before launch. “What’s this?” he asked seeing the large padded seat in the middle of the bridge area. It looked like a cross between something from a science fiction starship and a barbershop.

     
“You’re new command chair, Skipper,” Velvet laughed. “I even gave you a cup holder.”

     
“What? No Omega-13 device?” Park asked lightly.

     
“Ronnie’s still working on it,” Velvet told him with a straight face. “Right after the stasis plating.”

     
“Stasis plating?” Park wondered. “Have I been missing meetings again?”

     
“She just came up with the idea or we might have it now,” Velvet explained. “She figured that if the walls of Van Winkle Base were in stasis just as we were, why not apply the same technique to the hull of the ship? She needs to work out a way to not put the rest of us in stasis at the same time, but she thinks it can be done and it will make us close to indestructible.”

     
“I like the sound of that,” Park nodded. He sat down in the large chair. “Not bad,” he commended her. “When are you installing the massage unit?”

     
If anything,
Trenisi
’s launch was even smoother than
Hendrick Hudson
’s had been. Park found he had to swallow back his discontentment. He was far more accustomed to leading from the front and even though he had only used the co-pilot’s controls when Tina requested, having them within reach at least gave him the comfort of knowing he could act directly. He found sitting in a “Captain Kirk” chair the ultimate frustration and the joke cup holder Velvet had built in only accentuated the fact he was mostly there for the ride. His crew needed few orders, he had trained them well, and they all knew what had to be done without constant instructions.

     
“Attention,
Trenisi
,” Arn’s voice crackled out of the radio set and added unnecessarilly, “Van Winkle Base here.”

     
“Go ahead, Arn,” Park replied. “Tell someone I want a vidscreen to talk through next mission. This radio nonsense is straight out of the Twentieth Century.”

     
“Aren’t we in a foul mood this morning?” Arn retorted.

     
“Sorry,” Park apologized. “They should have at least given me a ship’s wheel to play with while in the new highchair.”

     
“Well, I don’t have any news guaranteed to cheer you up then,” Arn warned him. “Prime Terius just let the big boys on Luna know you’re on your way.”

     
“He did what?” Park asked with preternatural calm. “No, I heard you. Why?”

     
“It’s just possible we sold him on our ability to take care of ourselves just a teensy bit too well,” Arn replied. “If anything he was even less polite than I was when I spoke to Big Bozo.”

     
“Big Bozo?” Park laughed.

     
“Terius and I decided to start calling him that after I explained what a Bozo was,” Arn admitted.

     
“So we’re naming him after a well-known children’s entertainer?” Park asked.

     
“Well, it was the clown part that appealed to him,” Arn replied. “I just wanted you on battle stations when you approach the commsat.”

     
“We’re already on battle stations,” Park replied, “but at least we’re forewarned. I don’t suppose Terius sounded so sure of himself that Big Bozo won’t try to have anyone meet us out there?”

     
“I wouldn’t count on it, Park,” Arn replied. “If anything it sounded like BB wants to make an example of you. If you want to cancel the mission, I’ll understand.”

     
“Hell, no!” Marisea exclaimed suddenly. The rest of the bridge crew cheered the sentiment.

     
“Sounds like that idea just lost the election,” Park chuckled.

     
“Yeah, I heard that,” Arn laughed. “Well, be careful and keep your guns warm.”

     
“Tell Terius he buys drinks for everyone when we get back,” Park replied.

     
“We both will,” Arn promised. “Van Winkle Base out.”

   
Ten

     

     

     
There were three ships standing off the stricken communications satellite as
Trenisi
approached. “Earth ship,” an officer on one of the ships hailed them. “You are in violation of the Covenant. Turn back or we shall destroy you forthwith.”

     
“The hell you will,” Park growled back “We have warned you before, Not only are we not party to the Covenant, we find your Covenant to be null and void. You are commanded to vacate your base on the Moon within thirty Earth days or pay the back rent for the last three millions years.” Park was not sure why he chose that number; it just came to him. “And any attempts to interfere with our mission will be considered a barbarous act of war and be dealt with severely.”

     
“You have a lot of nerve, pirate,” the reply came. “I’ll give you that.”

     
“Aye!” Park roared back. “I be Black Captain McArrgh! And all your base belongs to me! Arrrr!”

     
“You may have just confused them terminally,” Iris chuckled, then got abruptly serious. “They’re charging plasmacasters.” She flipped the switch to deploy the missile launchers. Servos whined softly throughout the ship.

     
Three balls or plasmas shot out of the muzzles of the Galactic ships’ guns. The trio of blindingly bright lights sped toward
Trenisi
, only to veer off less than an inch from the ship’s hull. The magnetic defenses had worked!

     
“Open fire!” Park commanded.

     
Iris’ hands flashed over her console with practiced ease and got off the first volley before the Galactic weapons were completely recharged. The phaser drilled a hole through one of the ships and two missiles hit each of the others.

     
She readied another volley, but it proved unnecessary. One ship had been blown to pieces and another’s engines had been destroyed. The third ship, badly damaged as well, turned and ran, heading away from the vicinity at full speed.

     
“Mercy!” one of the ship’s captains begged. “We surrender.”

     
“We’ll allow your people to pick you up,” Park decided, not wanting to take prisoners. “Hail the other ship and offer to let them rescue their own,” he told Garnore, the Mer at the radio station.

     
“No response, Skipper,” Garnore replied.

     
“Oh heck,” Park sighed. “Velvet, looks like we’ll be bringing Galactics on board. Do we have a way to lock them up?”

     
“In here?” Velvet asked incredulously.

     
“Hopefully they’ll behave,” Park muttered. “Stand by.” He nodded to Garnore to reopen the microphone. “Looks like your buddies are too scared to reply, Mister Galactic. Do you have spacesuits?”

     
“Of course,” came the reply.

     
Park heaved a sigh of relief, unaware he had been holding his breath. “Fine, stand by, we’ll be coming alongside in a minute. Do you know the meaning of the word parole, sir?”

     
“We are not barbarians, sir!” came the reply. When Park let the silence drag a bit, he added, “You have my word and parole. Please, do you promise safety? We have injured on board.”

     
“If your parole is good, you’ve my guarantee of safety,” Park assured him. “We’re beside you right now. We can rig a line between us, but our locks are not compatible. We cannot dock with you.”

     
“Understood, sir,” the Galactic officer replied, “and thank you.”

     
“We’re not barbarians either, sir,” Park told him. “Is there a chance of survivors on the other ship, do you know?”

     
“It is possible,” the Galactic admitted. “Our ship’s compartments can all be pressurized independently. I surrender on their behalf too.”

     
“Good enough,” Park noted. “Let’s get your crew to safety and then we’ll go searching for more.”

     
“Thank you, sir.”

     
Shortly after Velvet had attached a line between the two ships, the surviving fourteen crewmen of the Defender came out of their airlock and made their way to
Trenisi
. Their leader was a tall, thin supra-human who, when he doffed his helmet, turned out to have bright green skin and eyes and jet black hair. Park later learned the green was due to the plant-like chloroplasts in his species’ genetically modified bodies. One or more of their ancestors had decided it would be efficient to add photosynthesis to the species’ dietary abilities. In his crew were several other sorts whose ancestors had once been human. Why they had prehensile tails, or horns on their heads was a mystery even to them, although most genetic modifications and adaptations made some sort of sense when one learned about their planet of origin.

     
“So, Mister Galactic,” Park asked, “how do we best go about rescuing the others?”

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