Overdrive (31 page)

“Hello there
beautiful,” he said.

Crystal glared at
him. “What do you want?”

“How about a
kiss?”

“How about ‘Get
fucked’."

“Bit touchy I see."
When Crystal failed to reply, he sailed on regardless.

“It would appear
that you’re in a slight predicament. Your life support is failing - which means
you will probably be dead by the time you reach safety. In addition, you’re
about to be intercepted by some terribly violent and immoral individuals. As
the leader of those terribly violent and immoral individuals, I would like to
take this opportunity to deliver your options. Surrender or, um, let me think –
oh that’s right. Surrender.”

“You forgot my
other option.”

“What’s that
then?, Asel said with surprise.

“Bite me.” Crystal
cut the link.

◊

Asel smiled grimly
as the face of the Shepherd woman disappeared from his eyelid. She would pay
for that and he, Asel, would take a personal interest in the extraction of that
payment. He ordered his ship’s Captain to power up the weapon systems as they
closed the gap with the
Hot Tucker
. 

The freighter was
on the verge of the debris cloud that had once been the
Divine Retribution
when
Asel gave the order to fire. A bolt from a field disruptor dispersed the weak
field surrounding the ancient cargo ship. Precisely aimed plasma bolts targeted
the life support compartment and the fuel tanks containing the plasma for the
Ion drive of the now unprotected ship. Liquid plasma erupted out of the
shattered tanks, combining with the debris cloud from the Divine Retribution
and effectively concealing the stricken freighter.

Asel had the
Captain move the
Sweet Bejesus
to within 500 meters of the freighter,
matching velocity and trajectory of the now powerless ship. The Watcher Prince
ordered a squad of combat Nephillim to suit up, ensuring that each was armed
with an Afer in addition to plasma cannons, before leading them out of the
airlock and into the space separating the two ships. Unsuited and largely
unencumbered, Asel, surrounded by his glowing blue field nimbus, reached the
heavily venting ship first and made for the airlock. Unbidden, his AI brought a
burglar program on-line. Asel dismissed it, powering up his plasma cannon and
setting it for continuous beam. He used the beam to slice through the airlock
door and had just finished when his squad of combat Nephillim glided up next to
him.

Forcing his way
through the still glowing rent in the door, Asel led the way into the ship,
ducking to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling of the small airlock chamber.
He sent three of the squad to investigate the engine and cargo rooms, ordering
the remaining three to accompany him to the bridge. The ship was oddly quiet
and appeared to be deserted. All systems had been shut down - the otherwise
dark corridor lit only by Asel’s glowing nimbus and the suit lights on the
combat armor of the Nephillim.

The Watcher Prince
cautiously entered the bridge, his field at maximum strength, expecting to find
not only his quarry but some form of armed resistance. Disappointingly, the
bridge was deserted.

He opened a link
to his squad leader who was in the engine room. “Anything?” he said brusquely.

“No sir. Nothing.
The two emergency capsules have been ejected however.”

“Fuck. Any sign of
the Overdrive?”

“No sir, although
it does look like something has been recently removed from above the Ion
drive.”

“Well that’s just
fucking great.” He cut the link and turned to one of his squad.

“I want this ship
fully scanned. Bring a tech crew over and see if you can bring this piece of shits
AI back on line. The rest of you get back to the ship.”

The three
Nephillim saluted and hastily withdrew. Asel was left alone on the bridge. He
stared moodily out of one of the bridge screens, surprised to note that he
could see Gitane, partially hidden by the debris cloud that now surrounded the
ancient freighter. The ship was so old that it actually had windows looking
directly out into space. More modern ships normally buried their bridge deep
inside their hulls and had screens that generated images from sensors on the
skin of the ship.

Asel continued to
stare out the window for some time, contemplating his next move. If he lost the
Overdrive and Felix again, his father would be less than impressed, not to
mention that he still had Gabriella and her band of merry Areopagites to deal
with.

Distracted by such
thoughts, he failed to note that three objects within the debris cloud had
beacon lights.

◊

Logan woke first
and found someone's arse in his face. It was always disconcerting to wake up in
a strange place, but to wake up in a strange place with a face full of arse was
doubly so. He didn’t know what he was so worried about – it wasn’t too dissimilar
from his University days.
Perhaps
, he thought,
I’m getting old
.
Wherever he was, it was also rather cramped. In addition to the owner of the
arse (he suspected, given its dimensions, that it was probably Walter’s), two
other bodies were pressing into him. One, he discovered, was Felix who was
still unconscious. On his other side, the hairy body of Bruce was snoring.

Logan raised his
head and looked around. He found himself in a cramped, narrow space about one
meter in diameter. Tarquin, also beginning to stir, was encased precariously in
a storage locker above him. The former Snareball Gladiator gave a start and
with a yelp, fell into Logan’s lap.

“Oi. Get off me
you big lug,” a slightly winded Logan groaned.

Tarquin struggled
out of Logan’s lap and hit his head on the storage locker above him as he tried
to stand.

“Where are we?,"
he asked, rubbing his head and looking at Logan who was also unsuccessfully
trying to stand.

“In a small
cramped space?," Logan ventured.

“Yeah, nice one
Log," he growled back.

A small door was
set in the wall before them. After checking the bodies of Felix, Walter and
Bruce and finding them still unconscious, Tarquin opened the door and peered
into the adjacent room. He found a small cockpit, almost entirely filled by a
command seat, and a screen showing what appeared to be space covered by mist.
Cystal sat in the seat, her attention completely occupied by whatever she was
doing. Ram Terry sat on the ground next to her, squashed into a corner. The
Holy Ram turned to look at Tarquin.

“Oh, you’re up I
see.”

Tarquin grinned
wryly. “Very observant your Raminess.”

Ram Terry
contorted his face in what Tarquin interpreted as a smile. “Is everyone
alright?”

“Yes, your
Raminess. Ah, just out of interest, where are we?”

“In the
Hot
Tucker’s
escape capsule,” said Crystal, not taking her eyes off the screen.
“Do you want to take over Tarquin? Its manual operated and a bit of a bugger.”

As Tarquin tried
to squeeze into the chair, Crystal had to take her hand off the manual control
as she edged away. The tiny capsule dipped alarmingly, throwing Crystal,
Tarquin and Ram Terry into a confused heap of arms, legs, wool and hooves on
the floor.

“What the fuck are
you doing up there?," shouted Logan from the baggage compartment.

Tarquin ignored
him, finally extracting himself from the tangle on the floor and inserting
himself into the command seat where he immediately grasped the manual control
toggle and righted the ship.

“So?," he
said to Crystal, his eyes never leaving the screen.

“So, what?,"
she replied, edging her way backwards into the door, leaving only her head
sticking out.

“What happened?”

“Oh. The Overdrive
worked. We’re in Gitanian space. Unfortunately, so is Asel. He took out our
fuel tanks and life support but not before I could steer us into this debris
cloud. I loaded you lot into one of the escape capsules and ejected both into
the thick of the cloud. Ram Terry got us permission to dock at the PDS. Just
follow the beacon and it should guide us in.”

“What’s Asel doing
now?," asked Tarquin.

Crystal shrugged.
“No idea.”

“I know what he
won’t be doing,” said Ram Terry. “Getting any closer. The Gitanian defense network has issued a general warning, advising all ships to maintain their current positions.
Anyone approaching this close to the planet without permission will be targeted
and shot down.”

Tarquin nodded.
“Good."

In the storage
locker, the others were coming to. Crystal retreated into the tiny space to see
if the others required help.

Tarquin continued
to pilot the tiny capsule, avoiding pieces of debris as he followed the beacon
to the huge defense station. A large piece of what appeared to be debris shot
up from beneath them and struck the capsule before disappearing out of view.
The capsule shuddered and skewed off course again before Tarquin could right
it. He ignored the general sounds of complaint issuing from the storage locker.

“Did you see that?,"
he exclaimed to the sheep next to him.

Ram Terry nodded.

“What do you
suppose it was?”

Ram Terry
shrugged. “Beats me. Why, what do you think it was?”

Tarquin looked
thoughtful. “Not sure, but my AI seems to think it looked like an intact bridge
from an Areopagite Galley.”

◊

“What the fuck was
that?”

The bridge of the
former Areopagite war Galley, the
Divine Retribution
, shuddered as it
impacted with another object.

The Captain turned
at the sound of Tynan’s voice. He suppressed the urge to shrug and instead
queried his AI. His AI had a link to what remained of the external sensors
which he used to replay the impact. “It looked like an old escape capsule sir.”

Tynan breathed out
slowly. He had almost panicked at the sound of the impact, believing that what
remained of his ship was once again under attack.

“Very good. What
news of Princess Gabriella?”

“Her ship is still
an hour away sir. The Gitanian’s have ramped up their security forcing the
Blazing
Trumpet
to detour slightly. In any case, we can’t be picked up until we’ve
cleared this debris cloud and are out of range of the PDS.”

Tynan nodded
slowly. He just hoped Gabriella got to them before Asel and his Nephillim did.

He let out a sigh.
Something he’d been doing a lot of lately. It hardly mattered who picked him up
first. Either way, he was in deep shit.

Chapter Nine

The small shuttle
bucked sharply as it entered Gitane’s turbulent reddish-brown atmosphere. The
shuttle’s AI righted the tiny craft before realigning its sensors on the
spaceport beacon of Gitane’s largest island and capital – Gauches. It shuddered
a few more times before settling into its flight path, now controlled by
Gauches’ spaceport AI, which guided it down towards the island. Murky clouds
parted briefly to reveal a large maroon and light speckled island below. It was
5am local time, too early for the sun to pass the world’s terminator and burn
off the cloud cover.

Within the
shuttles cramped compartment, 4 passengers stared at the forward view screen
with varying degrees of interest. Felix and Crystal sat side by side, quietly
staring at the screen. Both were clad in coveralls – the latter having belted
on her sword with the optimistic intent of getting it past Gauches security. On
the opposite couch sat Ram Terry, clad only in small jerkin. He seemed to be
meditating or sleeping. Logan sat beside him, also in a one piece coverall,
fidgeting and bored.

Ram Terry had so
far proved to be rather less than communicative during the 60 minute trip from
the PDS station to the planet’s surface. His Raminess had been most talkative
when they had met with Gitanian officials aboard the PDS. The Holy Ram had used
his influence to gain the use of one of the PDS’s shuttles, but once on board,
had settled into one of the seats, almost immediately closing his eyes.

Logan’s choice of
conversation partners was limited having left Tarquin, Walter and Bruce on the
PDS to watch over the Overdrive. In search of diversions, he leant over the
aisle and gave Felix’s ear a flick.

“You been here
before?”

Felix shook his
head. “No. You?”

Logan nodded. “A
few years ago.  Unamuno’s intelligence agency got itself involved in the
‘affaire du merde’ here when a group of political miscreants and naughty people
decided to lynch the establishment and take power for themselves. Gitane’s
surviving technocrats pleaded for liberation in exchange for a hefty discount
on tobacco goods.”

Crystal turned
away from her scrutiny of the screen in front of her. “What happened?,"
she asked.

 “We liberated the
technocrats, locked all the naughty people up, loaded our ship up with tobacco
and got the hell out before the merde hit the fan.”