Space Team- The Collected Adventures 4 Page 10

  “We should at least offer to repay him?” he said, mimicking her.

  “What’s wrong with that? It was only fair,” Loren said. They both turned and headed up the ramp. “And I don’t sound like that.”

  “That sounded exactly like you,” Mech said.

  “It did not.”

  “It did not!” Mech imitated.

  “Just shut the fonk up and let’s go fix the ship, Disselpoof,” Loren told him.

  “Bedge, that was a low blow,” Mech said. His metal jaw curved into a smirk. “But let’s go fix the damn ship.”

  Miz sat forward in her chair, her eyes narrowed as she scrutinized Cal. He was sitting in the scorched remains of his usual chair, leaning to the left so as not to fall off the side with the missing armrest. The whole thing reeked of burning leather, although that may well have been his feet.

  “You look terrible,” Miz said.

  Cal gave a half-hearted nod of agreement. He was looking a lot better than he had a short time ago. Changing into his own clothes had helped, and the fact that his epidermis had almost completely regrown was a big help, too. All in all, though, he was far from looking his best.

  “Like, why are your ears bright pink?” Miz asked.

  Cal turned, trying to see the sides of his head. This proved a largely unsuccessful endeavor. “I have ears again?”

  He raised both arms and extended the perfectly smooth, baby-sized thumbs that had been developing for the past hour or so. They were the only fingers he had, so he was determined to make the most of them. “Awesome.”

  “And what happened to your hands?” Miz quizzed.

  “They fell off,” Cal said.

  Miz hesitated. “Is that, like, an Earth thing?”

  “Not particularly,” Cal said. “Anyway, the good news is, they’re growing back.”

  Sure enough, what had been stumps were now almost fully-formed hands, albeit a little smaller than normal, and with just the one underdeveloped thumb on each.

  “I’d say I’ll be good as new in around three hours,” Cal said. “Although, obviously that’s a complete guess, and I don’t really have anything to base it on. It could be one hour, it could be five. The point is, I’ll be all-hands-on-deck before you know it.”

  He summoned the energy to grin. “See what I did there?”

  Miz tutted and sat back in her chair. “Or they might not grow back,” she pointed out.

  Cal blinked. “Huh?”

  “Maybe, like, this is as far as they’re going to go. They haven’t changed much since you came through here.”

  “They haven’t?” Cal asked, his voice suddenly tinged with panic. He turned his hands over, studying them, then shot Miz a frantic, wide-eyed look. “Why would you even say that? Oh, God, what if this is as far as they grow back?”

  Splurt lowered himself down from the ceiling until he was just above Cal’s lap, then dropped with an elastic snap. The little green blob crawled onto the end of Cal’s left arm and rearranged himself until he was hand-shaped.

  “Thanks, buddy,” Cal told him. He thought about waggling his fingers and, to his amazement, all five green digits responded. “Well, that’s awesome,” he said. “And kind of freaky.”

  “News from Master Mech and Mistress Loren,” Kevin announced. “Repairs are complete, and we shall be taking off momentarily.”

  “Finally,” Miz said, hooking a leg over the arm of her chair and settling back. “I swear, we’ve been stuck on this shizzhole of a planet for, like, ever.”

  “It’s been nine hours,” Cal said.

  “Nine boring hours,” Miz replied.

  Cal held up both his Splurt hand and his almost non-existent one. “That’s not necessarily the word I’d have chosen. Personally, I’ve had quite an eventful time, but I take your point. The sooner we get off this place, the better.”

  The door swished open and Mech clanked onto the bridge. He briefly regarded Cal, noted the Splurt hand, but chose not to pass comment.

  “All fixed up,” he said, making his way to the front. “We can get out of here soon. Loren said she has to take care of something first.”

  “Take care of what?” Cal asked.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t ask,” Mech said. “Ain’t none of my business.”

  “It’s nothing to worry about, sir,” Kevin said. “Mistress Loren is merely using the bathroom.”

  “Oh,” said Cal.

  “She shouldn’t be long,” Kevin continued. “She’s just sitting down… now.”

  Cal glanced at the ceiling. “Uh… OK. Gotcha.”

  “Based on previous observations, she shouldn’t be more than forty-seven seconds,” Kevin said. “Assuming, of course, we’re only talking about a Number One…”

  “OK, Kevin, thanks for the update, pal,” Cal said. “I think our imaginations can reluctantly take it from here.”

  “Very good, sir,” said Kevin.

  There was a pause, then: “Ah.”

  “What’s wrong?” Cal asked.

  “I’m rather afraid we may have to delay take-off, sir,” Kevin replied.

  Cal sat forward in his wobbly, half-melted chair. “What? Why?”

  “It isn’t a Number One.”

  Six agonizingly descriptive minutes later, Loren returned to the bridge to find Cal and Miz both sitting stiffly and awkwardly in their chairs. Mech stood facing front, back straight, body rigid. None of them made eye contact as she strode past and took her seat.

  “Everyone ready?” she asked, sliding in behind her controls and pulling the console toward her.

  “Yep,” said Cal. “You?”

  Loren flicked a series of switches and her controls illuminated in front of her. “All set.”

  She glanced back over her shoulder and caught Cal and Miz both trying very hard not to look at her.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” said Cal.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  Cal altered his expression in half a dozen subtle ways over the space of a second. “Like what?”

  “Like that,” Loren said. “Like the way you’re looking at me now.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Cal said. He smiled and gestured to the screen. “Stop being paranoid and just fly us out of here. The sooner we get off this planet, the better.”

  “I couldn’t agree more, sir,” Kevin said. “Also, ma’am, just for your information, I took the liberty of running a second flush. That first one didn’t quite shift everything, but it’s all gone now.”

  Loren’s eyes widened a fraction in horror. She looked to Cal and Miz, but they both quickly averted their eyes. Cal gestured to the screen again.

  “Let’s go,” he said. “And let us never speak of any of this again.”

  Nine

  The Currently Untitled rocketed upward, leaving the surface of Destitution to grow smaller and less imposing behind it. Cal gripped his single armrest with a hand made almost entirely of Splurt, and had a horrible moment when he remembered why the chair had got into this state in the first place.

  “Wait, this isn’t going to catch fire on me again, is it?” he asked.

  “No, sir,” Kevin replied.

  “You sure? Because that would absolutely fit in with the day I’ve had,” Cal said. “It’d actually only be, like, the sixth worst thing to have happened.”

  “I got to the root of the problem, sir,” Kevin told him. “It turns out that one of the many, many impacts Mistress Loren failed to avoid caused a problem with the in-ship security protocols. The chair activated a defensive mechanism usually reserved for situations such as hijacking, abduction, or Grand Theft Spacecraft.”

  Cal turned the chair a little. It groaned beneath him. “So, what? If someone steals the ship the chair catches fire?”

  “Not automatically, sir,” Kevin said. “I have to activate it manually.”

  “Right. Right,” said Cal. He considered this. “So… were you activating it manu
ally earlier?”

  “Not deliberately, sir,” Kevin said. “But things were a little chaotic with the ship’s systems, and I may have accidentally pressed the ‘burn alive’ button.”

  “I see,” said Cal.

  “On a number of separate occasions.”

  “Right,” said Cal. He rocked the chair a little. “You’re not going to accidentally press it again, are you?”

  “Heavens, no, sir,” said Kevin. “I’m almost certain.”

  Cal was about to question the ‘almost’ but decided it was probably best not to know. Instead, he tried to get comfortable and braced himself for the inevitable shuddering as Loren gunned the ship through the edges of the planet’s atmosphere, and the sky became a swirl of stars and color across the screen.

  They had left the planet at an angle designed to steer them away from where the space battle had been taking place, even though Kevin’s scans had suggested the action was all over. If there was one thing Cal had learned not to trust, it was Kevin’s scans. If there were two things he had learned not to trust, they were Kevin’s scans, and Kevin in general. Not necessarily in that order.

  As they cleared the atmosphere, one of the larger moons of Destitution crept above the curved edge of the planet way over on the left. Another, much smaller moon, hung in space up and to the right, tumbling through its orbit with a slow, steady sort of grace.

  Destitution itself seemed to shimmer through the atmosphere, giving the unforgiving terrain an almost magical sort of sparkle.

  “From up here, it actually looks pretty nice,” Cal remarked.

  “Not bad,” Loren agreed.

  “Total hellhole down there, of course,” said Cal. “But from up here you could almost convince yourself it was pleasant. You know, provided you didn’t do anything stupid, like set foot on the place. Or get any closer than we currently are.”

  He called over to Mech. “Hey, Mech? Let’s add this to our list.”

  Mech glowered back over his shoulder. “What list.”

  “You know. The list,” said Cal. When Mech showed no signs of understanding what the fonk he was talking about, he continued. “The list of planets never to visit again.”

  “We ain’t got a list of planets never to visit again,” Mech said.

  Cal blinked in surprise. “Wait, what? We don’t? After some of the dives we’ve been to? That feels like an oversight.” He clicked his Splurt-fingers. “Make a list,” he told Mech. “Make a list of planets never to visit again. Number one, Destitution. Number two, that ice planet where those space boy scouts tried to eat me. Joint number two, the one with the clowns. In fact, make that joint number one. Number three…”

  He stopped when he realized Mech was miming writing on an invisible notepad.

  “Are you pretending to write this down?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Mech confirmed. He continued to make notes in the air.

  “Well, don’t!” Cal said. “Actually write it down.”

  “I ain’t got a pen,” Mech said.

  “Then find one! Or, I don’t know, make a brain-list.”

  “I’m making a regular list,” Mech said, still pretending to write.

  “Cut that out!” Cal told him. “That’s a direct order! Your captain commands you to stop writing in that imaginary notebook.”

  “It’s an imaginary sketchpad,” Mech said. “I couldn’t find my imaginary notebook.”

  Cal sighed. “God, you’re getting sassy these days,” he said. “I mean, I ask you to do one simple thing.”

  “I ain’t your fonking secretary,” Mech scowled, dropping his hands to his sides. “Make your own damn lists.”

  Kevin gave a wry chuckle. “Oh, I do so love these little exchanges of yours,” he said. “The back and forth is really quite refreshing.”

  Cal looked up. “Hey, Kevin. Can you do me a favor and take a list?”

  “Of course, sir, I’d be more than happy to,” Kevin replied. “Would you like me to do it before or after the warning? I’m happy either way.”

  “Well, I don’t really mind which… Wait,” said Cal. “What warning?”

  “About the ship, sir,” Kevin said.

  “Our ship? Is there a problem?” Cal asked.

  “No, sir. I meant the other ship.”

  Loren peered down at her readouts. “What other ship? I don’t see anything. Mech?”

  “I got nothing,” Mech replied.

  “I see something,” said Miz.

  “Shizz. You do?” Cal groaned. “What is it?”

  Miz tapped the screen that was built into her armrest. “It’s, like, this blue triangle.”

  Loren tutted. “That’s us.”

  “Is it?” Miz asked. She looked more closely at the display. “Then why is it blue? I mean, like, our ship isn’t blue.”

  She narrowed her eyes, then glanced around the bridge, as if she could see through the walls. “Is our ship blue? I haven’t really paid too much attention.”

  “It isn’t blue, ma’am,” Kevin replied. “Similarly, it isn’t a perfect triangle, but I can confirm that the vessel you see on your display is, indeed, our own. I was referring to this ship.”

  The screen changed to show a view from one of the Untitled’s rear cameras. The bottom of the image showed the curved atmosphere of Destitution, with a reddish-orange sun looming in the distance.

  Partly obscuring these was a patch of solid darkness. Had it not been for the wedge shape that it cut out of the atmosphere, the ship would have been almost impossible to see.

  “Who are these guys?” Cal wondered.

  “Can’t really tell,” said Loren. They were both whispering, as if any sudden sound might give them away. “But I think it’s one of the ships that attacked us earlier. Similar size, anyway.”

  “Then what the fonk are we waiting for?” asked Cal. “Go. Fly us out of here. Warp five. Hyperspace. Make the jump to lightspeed, or whatever. I am not crash-landing on that goddam planet again.”

  “On it,” said Loren, her fingers flying across her controls. “But you don’t have a seatbelt.”

  “No, but I’ve got a giant Splurt hand with one hell of a grip,” Cal replied. His Hulk-like green fingers tightened around the end of his remaining armrest, crushing it into a knobbly lump of metal. “Now, punch it!”

  Loren punched it.

  The stars blurred as the Currently Untitled jumped forward.

  Then they stopped blurring when the ship immediately juddered to a stop.

  “Way to go, Loren,” Miz snapped.

  “It isn’t me!” Loren replied. She pushed forward on the thrusters. The engines whined, but the stars remained steadfastly unblurry. “This isn’t my fault!”

  “Oh, sure it isn’t,” said Miz. “Maybe the engines just broke themselves this time.”

  “The engines are fine,” Loren insisted.

  “Great, then let’s get the fonk out of here,” Cal said.

  Loren shook her head and slammed a few levers forward. “No, I mean the engines are fine but we’re not going anywhere.”

  “We appear to be ensnared in some form of tractor beam,” Kevin informed them. “Originating from the ship behind us. I could be wrong, but I fear this may be very bad news for all seven of us.”

  “It’s always bad news, Kevin,” Cal sighed. “It’s always bad news for… wait.”

  He looked around the bridge and counted under his breath. “What do you mean, ‘all seven’ of us?”

  “There are six of us, including you,” Mech said.

  “Or is Mech so fat you counted him twice?” Cal asked.

  “I ain’t fat. I’m almost entirely made out of metal. How the fonk can I be fat?”

  “OK, not fat. Hefty,” Cal said. “Bulky. You know? Chunky.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Mech snapped. “Well, how chunky do you think my foot will feel when it’s up your ass?”

  Cal wasted a few seconds contemplating this. “Uncomfortably chunky?” he guessed.

  “Yo
u’re damn right!”

  “Guys! Focus!” Loren urged. “Kevin, what do you mean ‘all seven’ of us?”

  “You, ma’am. Master Cal, Master Mech, Mistress Mizette, Master Splurt, the Slurrit hiding in the kitchen, and myself,” Kevin explained. There was some quiet whispering from the ceiling. “I’m pretty sure that makes seven. And I fear for the safety of all of us, should we be unable to escape the pull of that tractor beam.”

  Nobody was listening to the end of Kevin’s sentence. They had all turned to look at the door leading out into the corridor, and to the kitchen beyond.

  “There’s a Slurrit hiding in the kitchen,” said Cal. He didn’t phrase it as a question, more just a statement of fact. Largely useless as Kevin was, this seemed an oddly specific mistake for him to have made, so Cal was choosing to accept it at face value.

  Miz sniffed the air. “Yeah, there’s a Slurrit in the kitchen,” she confirmed.

  “And you’re only picking this up now?” Loren asked.

  Mizette scowled at her. “Like, since when was it my job to keep track of who’s in the kitchen?” she demanded. “Mech’s got scanners, and Kevin literally has a camera pointing into every room. Even the bathroom, Loren.”

  Loren blinked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing. Nothing,” Cal said, quickly. He jumped up and pointed with his giant green Splurt-hand. “I’ll go check it out. Loren, you have the conn.”

  Loren half-turned in her chair. “What does that mean?”

  Cal hesitated. “It means… I don’t know. It’s just, like, a thing captains say. You have the conn. Do you accept the conn?”

  Loren glanced to Mech, who shrugged. “I don’t know. What is it?”

  “Just accept the fonking conn,” Cal said. He mimed throwing her something. “This is the conn. Take it.”

  Loren made no move to catch the offered imaginary item. Cal tutted. “Great. Now the conn’s on the floor. Good job.”

  “Uh, hello?” said Miz. “We’re still, like, totally caught in a tractor beam.”

  “Shizz, yes!” said Cal. He pointed to the screen. “Loren, get us out of it. Mech, do something useful. Push buttons or something. At least try to look busy. Miz…”