Willful Child (28 page)

“I have changed my mind,” said the chicken, scrambling down from the chair. “This one’s all yours, O God Hadrian Turdster.”

“Bailing on us, Tammy? How come?”

“Conscience, Captain, a quality of which you seem entirely incapable of comprehending, much less exhibiting.”

Hadrian snorted, resuming his seat. “You’re wrong, Tammy. This is standard Affiliation procedure with first-contact events. We awe them first, screw them over later.”

“It hardly seems fair.”

“Besides, we’re already building their worlds, aren’t we? Dump by dump. But I’m wondering—Sin-Dour, these little shits already have space travel. Any idea how long they’ve been climbing up technology’s ladder?”

“Normal rates of progress, sir, suggest thousands of years, although advancement is usually characterized by long periods of stasis interrupted by rapid acceleration, until the next period of stasis, and so on. But my sense of these, uh, Turdians, is that advancements developed much more quickly. We could be talking a period of days or even hours.”

“Now,” said Hadrian, “that’s a disturb—”

“Captain!”

“Jim—oh, Polaski. What is it?”

“They hung up on us, sir. I think we put them on hold for too long. Oh, wait, a new communication…”

“And?”

“Uhm, they’re saying, uh, something like, ‘We command the universe now. You pathetic Terrans with your pathetic galactic hegemony must now kneel before us, or risk utter annihilation. You have two microseconds to reply.’”

Sin-Dour grunted and then said, “Captain, their ship has disappeared. The species has … oh, it has left corporeal reality, ascending into a higher state of existence. Wait a moment, I’m scanning … sir, the bilge is just a pile of, uh, feces again. They’re gone.”

“Well, that was fun.” Hadrian stood. “At least they didn’t annihilate us. Log the incident, 2IC, hah hah, and let’s drop back into T space and resume our journey to the Known Rim.”

“As far as episodes go,” said Tammy, “that one was a stinker.”

“Almost as redolent as your effort at humor, Tammy.”

“Humor? Oh, I see. Toilet humor, ha ha ha. I meant to say just that, of course, since as we know, intelligence and wit are intricately bound. I voiced a pun, but I noted that no one laughed, thus proving the assertion that intelligence is linked with—”

“Ever heard of beating a dead horse, Tammy?”

“No, why would I do that? If it’s already dead? Besides, I wouldn’t beat a living horse, either. In fact, the whole sentiment underlying that adage is highly suspect on ethical grounds. Ooh look, a sliver of fingernail!”

TWENTY-TWO

“T packet from Space Fleet, Captain.”

“Wow, the FedEx account must be redlining. Send it through to my office, Polaski.”

Once in his office, Hadrian sat down and opened the file. He well knew the man on the screen, and sighed upon seeing the evil smile greeting him.

“That’s right, Sawback. With the loss of Admiral Prim, it’s
Admiral
Tang Prickle delivering to you the following orders. First off, thank you for congratulating me on the promotion. But sucking up won’t help you one bit, so shut up and listen. Good news: The kill-on-sight order on you and the
Willful Child
has been rescinded. Bad news: The suspension of that order is temporary. Bad for you, that is. Now, pay attention.

“The AFS science vessel
Piece of Cake
is missing. The Varekan-crewed ship was conducting a reconnaissance of the Known Rim, Sector Nineteen, when contact was lost during an encounter with an unknown doughnut-shaped alien vessel. As it turns out, by your last communication, you are on a course to Sector Nineteen and the Known Rim. What a happy coincidence. I am appending the last known coordinates of the
Piece of Cake.
”

Tang leaned forward on his desk.
“Last communication was garbled. The vessel was under attack. Something about an impending galactic invasion by an overwhelming force. Now, you’d think with news like that, we’d be sending you help, but it seems we’re in a bit of a shoot-up argument with the Misanthari, who have been clocked as Code White Minus Point One, by the way, and all of our ships are otherwise engaged. Nice mess you’ve left us there, Sawback. Students at the Academy back on Earth burned you in effigy yesterday, as a kind of send-off for my leaving. Touching, to be honest. I’ll miss the place.

“So. You are hereby ordered to determine the nature of this galactic invasion. Rescue whoever you can if the
Piece of Cake
hasn’t been blasted to smithereens. Recover what wreckage there might be, for weapon-signature analysis, and if you get yourself blown up, well, too bad. Tang out.”

Hadrian closed the file. The door to his office opened and the chicken entered, jumping in a flap of wings to the desktop. “Ball bearings! Can I eat those?”

“Oh please,” said Hadrian, “help yourself.”

“Hmm, might get lodged in my scrawny neck. Better not. So, trouble on the horizon. I might have guessed. It follows you around like, like, well, bilge dump.”

“You were listening in.”

“Of course,” Tammy replied. “So who is this Tang guy to you?”

“My old drill sergeant.”

“Some promotion!”

Hadrian scowled. “He’d been busted down from admiral a few years back. The Fishbin Incident. Check your files on that one.”

“Ooh, I see. The man is certifiable—why didn’t they throw him out?”

“Connections high up at AFC … the usual.” Hadrian stood. “Prime all the weapons, Tammy. And this time, max out the energy output on every beam. No exchanging broadsides for fun, got it? We’re going in with the intent to do grievous harm. Shoot first ask questions later. Understood?”

“No. If you shoot first you destroy everything. How can you then ask questions?”

“Exactly.”

“Captain, you do understand that this unknown alien aggressor may well be my kin?”

“It’s occurred to me.”

“And still you want to destroy them!”

“More than ever, actually.” Hadrian suddenly reached out and grabbed the chicken by its neck. He held it up.

“Let me go!”

“My family on my mother’s side were old-style farmers. They used to wring the necks of chickens for fun, since it can get boring out in the flatlands of Iowa. Anyway, I’m trying to remember how it’s done. Twist hard and then a sharp downward snapping motion, I believe.”

“Don’t you dare! I’ll just manifest another one. A bigger chicken! Try wringing the neck of a chicken that’s looking
down
at you, Captain! I’ll peck your eyes out!”

“You already did that to Buck, as I recall. Well, tried to.”

“Fine, so I have issues with your chief engineer. I was only having fun. He spilled everything, you know, including his hot affair with his tenth-grade English teacher, and the shotgun wedding he skipped out on after he’d gotten her pregnant.”

Hadrian set the bird back down on the desktop and sat. “Wow, really? Tell me more.”

“That family’s still hunting him. There’s even rumors of an illegal bounty, with no time limit. Haven’t you wondered why a man with claustrophobia elected to sign on for space travel?”

“Why yes, I have wondered. Well, that’s how the past is for most of us, Tammy. A jumbled collection of sordid stupidities, hopeless longings, and hapless regrets. Poor Buck. I mean, he had a hot older woman in his pocket at what, sixteen? Should’ve jumped on board for the long haul, even with a few babies in tow. He’d be a happier man right now.”

The chicken was trying out its neck, gingerly stretching in various directions, and then it cocked its head. “Your response to things continues to baffle me, Captain. There’s that old human saying, about men with two brains—the big one in their skull and the smaller one in their penises, and it’s the smaller one that does most of the thinking—”

“Change the subject, will you? My little brain’s just had a lobotomy.” Hadrian stood again. “Well, what a fascinating little exchange this was, and you’ve left droppings on my desk. Be sure to clean that up before you leave.”

Hadrian returned to the bridge, and his command chair. “Pol—oh, you, Eden. Open shipwide comms. I have a statement to make.”

“Ready, sir.”

“Attention crew. We will soon be arriving at the Known Rim, where it is likely we will find ourselves engaged in a hopeless battle against impossible odds, facing an implacable foe intent on destroying not just the Affiliation, but all other sentient life-forms in the galaxy. In other words, just another day in the adventures of Captain Hadrian Sawback and the crew of the
Willful Child.

“My advice to everyone is, get used to it. Events like this could well become a weekly affair. We’ll face death. We’ll clash with terrible forces and belligerent enemies. We’ll uncover mysteries and probably get seriously grossed out in the process. But one thing must be understood, and have no doubt about this: No one dies on this ship! Well, bearing in mind my warning about kitten pictures.

“In a short while, we will be at battle stations. Do what you’ve been trained to do. And if we all blow up anyways, well, that’s just how it is. Sometimes, my friends, space just sucks. Captain out.”

There was silence on the bridge, apart from an irritating beeping sound that, Hadrian realized, never went away. He looked around. “For crying out loud, where’s that damned beeping coming from?”

He saw nothing but blank looks from his officers. Sin-Dour went to the science station, examined her screens, and then faced Hadrian. “Unknown, sir.”

“Tammy?”

The chicken emerged from the office. “Don’t look at me. No, really, all of you, stop looking at me!”

“It’s not one of your stupid special effects?”

“No.”

Hadrian activated his comms. “Buck! Get an engineering team up here. We’ve got an unidentified beep.”

“Right away, sir!”

Adjutant Tighe arrived, weaving slightly, and made her careful way to the security station, gingerly sitting down as if the seat was on fire. Hadrian eyed her. “Welcome back, Adjutant.”

She twisted in her chair to face him, and scowled. “I wuzn’t always like this.”

“Why, you look just fine, Adjutant.”

“Don’t care how I look. It’s the visions in my head. The ghosts, I mean.”

“Ghosts? What are they doing, these ghosts you keep seeing?”

“They try to give me hugs.” She shuddered, faced her screens again. “And the Hadrian ghost is the worst of all,” she added, pushing at various buttons and toggles. “Hey.”

“Adjutant?”

“This is the security station. What are all these buttons for, anyway?”

“You’re asking me?” Hadrian then sighed. “Work it out, Tighe, and do it soon, since we’re heading into trouble.”

Sin-Dour said, “Captain, we’ve dropped out of T space, closing on the Known Rim, ETA six minutes.”

“Scans?”

“Nothing this side of the Rim, sir,” Sin-Dour replied.

“And beyond it?”

“Uh, I’ve not scanned there yet, sir, since it’s Sector Unknown.”

Hadrian slowly spun in his chair to study her. “You are aware, 2IC, that the Known Rim is an arbitrary line drawn across empty space, signifying nothing more than a figurative border? And that, once we scan beyond that Rim, we are simply extending that line dividing the known from the unknown? In that sense, there will
always
be a Known Rim, and there will always be, just beyond it, a Sector Unknown.”

She ducked her head. “Apologies, sir. I suppose I didn’t really think it through.”

“Extend the scans into Sector Unknown, Sin-Dour.”

“Of course. At once, sir. Ahh.”

“Well?”

“There are upward of ninety thousand dreadnought-equivalent ships just on the other side of the Known Rim, Captain.”

“I see. Uhm, any sign of the
Piece of Cake?
”

“A few scattered atoms, sir.”

Hadrian stood. “Repulsor screens up. Energy-absorption plates dumped and ready for full-capacity charge. Weapons online and primed. Sin-Dour, what are those ships doing?”

“Just sitting there, sir. Although one is out front of the rest, almost straddling the Known Rim.”

“Doughnut-shaped?”

“Yes, sir, we’re close enough for a visual.”

“On the main viewer! Let’s see our nemesis, shall we?”

The enemy vessel was indeed doughnut-shaped, and lit with thousands of bright, multicolored lights atop the upper half.

“Captain! That vessel is powering up weapons!”

“The sprinkly bits?”

“Uh, no, sir. Those are just lights.”

“So, what kind of weapons?”

“Unknown, sir. No, wait! Oh, standard inert projectile tube.”

“How many?”

“Uh, one, sir.”

Hadrian sat down in order to lean forward. “One? How big is this tube?”

“A moment … bore diameter, two centimeters.”

“How in Darwin’s name did the
Piece of Cake
get taken out by that? No, there’s something strange going on here.”

“Well,” Sin-Dour suggested, “there would be, uh, ninety thousand-plus tubes, that could be brought to bear on the lone science vessel, if all of them fired at once…”

“Maybe,” Hadrian said, rubbing his jaw.

Polaski spoke from comms. “Sir, the unknown vessel is hailing us!”

“Visual feed?”

“Visual and audio, sir.”

“Put them on, then.” Hadrian stood.

On the main viewer, the bridge of the enemy vessel appeared. It was crowded with strange, arcane machinery, to which were attached numerous organic body parts. The figure standing on a slightly raised platform at the center was roughly cubical atop two mismatched legs, and it consisted of hundreds of disparate body parts, collected from dozens of species. There were countless eyes in all manner of configurations, and ears, noses, and mouths, as well as the odd tuft of hair and feathers. The lipsticked, luscious mouth that opened to speak was near the right corner of the side that faced them.

“We are Plog.” The creature’s voice was feminine. “We are the Collected.”

“Yes, I see that,” said Hadrian. “I am Captain Hadrian Sawback of the Affiliation Engage-class vessel
Willful Child
.”