Earth-ship

©2005 Ian Hobson

All but one of the officers on duty came to attention as the lift doors chimed and glided gently open. 'Good morning, folks.' Captain Russell P. Slogg, a short but stocky Texan, stepped purposefully onto the bridge of the Earth-ship Centipede and made his way to the command-chair. The Centipede was several light-years from Earth and more than half way into its three-year mission, yet Captain Slogg always knew the exact time on good old planet Earth – Texas time, anyway.

As the other officers returned to their duties, Mr Spook, an older and much taller man, with a hound-dog expression, vacated the command-chair with a hint of reluctance. It was one of the few ways he could express his disgust at being passed over for promotion. 'Good morning, sir.' He emphasised the word 'morning'.

'Good morning, Mr Spook.' Captain Slogg frowned as he brushed biscuit crumbs from the chair with his right hand before taking his seat. Then, lifting an empty plastic coffee cup from the chair arm between thumb and forefinger, he held it towards his second in command. 'Yours I believe.'

'Sorry, Captain.' Spook took the coffee cup and placed it in a nearby waste disposal aperture and pressed the start button. The machine made a clicking sound but the cup failed to be disposed of.

'I thought you were going to get that thing fixed,' said Captain Slogg, with more than a little irritation in his voice.

'I've called Engineering three times on the subject, Captain,' replied Spook, tiredly. 'Mack promised it would be fixed by now.'

'I called Engineering, too, Captain,' said Lieutenant Loveseat, as she swivelled in her chair and pointed her ample bosom toward her superiors. 'The one in my cabin has been acting up for light-years, but nothing ever gets done about it.'

'We have the same problem in the married quarters.' First Mate Hobbs joined the debate. 'I reckon it's what you females put down them that's the problem.' He looked pointedly at Lieutenant Loveseat.

Loveseat gave Hobbs a look of disgust. 'Listen, Hobbs. If I want your opinion, I'll...'

'I'll deal with this,' Captain Slogg said, as he tore his eyes away from Loveseat's attributes and looked towards the huge rectangular screen that faced his chair. 'Get me Engineering, Loveseat.' He drummed his fingers on the chair arm as he watched the command-screen's network of coloured pipes dissolve and then begin to redraw themselves. Slogg fancied himself as a student of history and had installed a late twentieth century screensaver from a long-defunct company called Microsoft. Suddenly the image changed to one showing the whole of the Engineering deck, but there seemed to be no one on duty.

'Engineering, this is the bridge. Please respond.' Somehow Captain Slogg knew that he was going to have a bad day. 'Mack, respond please!'

'Prabably in the shidder,' suggested Mr Subaru, Chief Gunner, and the only Ausi crew member on board.

He was right. A door in the corner opened, and a fat and balding and very irritated looking Chief Engineer McDonnell appeared, glossy magazine in one hand and fastening the zipper of his overalls with the other. 'Och, Captain! I canny even have a shit in peace! What do you want now?'

'I want you to get these God-dammed waste-disposal units fixed, Mack. And I want a full report...' Suddenly Slogg's angry tone was interrupted by a loud intermittent alarm.

'Captain, we're under attack!' announced Lieutenant Loveseat. 'Enemy ships on the starboard bow.' Conveniently, the command screen switched from the Engineering deck to the approaching enemy craft. 'Three Cling-Clang battle cruisers heading straight for us, Captain! And the first one's firing on us!'

'Raise the shields!' ordered Captain Slogg, but too late. The Centipede shuddered as the first missile hit, flooring most of the crew, including Captain Slogg who was thrown from the command chair, and Mr Spook who fell on top of him.

'I have the shields almost up, Captain.' First Mate Hobbs had managed to stay in his seat and was wrestling with the controls.

Meanwhile Captain Slog was on the floor wrestling with Mr Spook who had unfortunately kneed him in the testicles as he landed on top of him and now had his left foot caught under the command chair.

'Get off me, Spook!' groaned Slogg, as he tried to extract himself from Spook's spider-like arms and legs. Lieutenant Loveseat rushed to the captain's aid. She leaned over him, wrapped an arm around his neck and tried to pull him free, almost suffocating him with her bosoms.

'God dam it!' exclaimed Slogg, his voice muffled. 'Will the pair of you get off me. We're under attack for Chrisake.'

'Sorry, Captain,' said Mr Spook, finally managing to get his foot free.

'Prepare to return fire, Mr Subaru.' Ordered Captain Slogg, as he freed himself from Loveseat's embrace and got shakily to his feet.

'Aye, Aye, Captain.' Chief Gunner Subaru had also managed to retain his seat and was busily vectoring in the co-ordinates, or as he preferred to call it: 'getting ready to blarst the barstards'.

'Damage report?' Captain Slogg was back in the command chair and doing the job he was paid to do: staying calm in a hazardous situation; keeping his cool; giving clear and concise orders. 'I SAID, GIVE ME THE FUCKING DAMAGE REPORT, FOR CHRISAKE!'

The command screen switched back to the Engineering Deck where warning lights were flashing and alarms were sounding. Suddenly Mack's face filled the screen. 'It's not too bad, Captain. We've lost power to number three engine and the Laundry Deck's badly damaged and the paintwork on the starboard rear quarter's got a nasty scratch, but otherwise we're okay.'

'Can you give me warp speed, if I need it, Mack?'

'Aye, Captain, ready when you are.'

'Ready to fire, Captain,' announced Mr Subaru. The command screen had changed back to the enemy ships and they were all clearly in range. A second enemy missile struck and momentarily rocked the Centipede, but the deflector shields held and the crewmembers remained upright.

'For fuck's sake, fire!' ordered Mr Spook.

'I'm in command, here!' exclaimed Captain Slogg. 'Fire on all three ships, Mr Subaru.'

'Aye aye, Captain.' One by one, Mr Subaru turned three keys in his control panel and pounded the red button beside each. 'That'll blarst the basrtards!'

The command-screen still showed the approaching enemy ships, and the whole crew watched as the three bright, star-like missiles sped towards them. But as the first of them was about to strike, all three ships vanished, and the missiles began to follow each other around in ever-decreasing circles.

'Where'd they go?' exclaimed Captain Slogg; his eyes glued to the command screen as the missiles continued to circle.

'Shit! I was right on target.' Subaru scratched his head in disbelief.

'Put the missiles in a holding pattern, Mr Subaru,' ordered Mr Spook. 'We may need them yet.'

'Captain, I'm picking up a strange signal.' Loveseat adjusted her headphones and twisted the knobs on her control panel, her expression one of concentration.

Suddenly the image on the command screen changed from the circling missiles to a blurry grey image that gradually resolved into the face of an old man, who immediately began to speak: 'Captain Slogg.' The voice seemed slightly out of sync with the face. 'Captain Russell P. Slogg.'

'Who the fuck are you?' asked Slogg. Though the face seemed eerily familiar.

'Admiral Russell P. Slogg, retired. At your service.'

Captain Slogg turned towards First Mate Hobbs. 'Hobbs, if this is another one of your practical jokes, I'll have you hung out to dry.'

Hobbs looked offended and was about to reply but the old man on the screen spoke first. 'It's no joke Russ. I'm you... forty-seven years from now. I've sent this recording back to warn you of the great danger you are in.'

'Captain. This must be some kind of enemy trick,' suggested Spook. 'A diversion to keep us occupied while they attack from another angle.'

'Too right!' agreed the captain.

'No, Mr Spook,' said the face on the screen. 'It's no trick, and there are no enemy ships. It's all an illusion.'

'An illusion?' said Captain Slogg, incredulously. 'Do you mean to say...'

'It can't be,' Spook interrupted. 'Illusions don't fire missiles at earth-ships.'

'Let me finish.' said Slogg, pointing a finger at the image on the command-screen and then suddenly looking animated. 'How do we know you're not an illusion? And if you're a recording, how come you're taking part in this conversation?'

'Good question, Captain.' The old man grinned. 'I always was real smart. But think about it. All communications and bridge conversations are recorded – right?'

'That's correct, Captain,' confirmed Lieutenant Loveseat.

'Well, I kept a copy,' continued the old man. 'Not that I needed one. I remember that day like it was yesterday, and I know everything you are going to ask. Including your next question, Russ. I'm just glad I finally figured out how to get this recording to you.'

Everyone looked at the captain, who at first seemed lost for words but then asked: 'Suppose, for a minute, I believe that you are me, and not some kind of trick, and I, I mean and you, really are an admiral. Did you say we were in danger?'

'That's right,' replied the admiral. 'Now listen up. The Centipede is caught in a tractor beam and you're being pulled into a sort of black hole. The Cling-Clang ships were just a diversion. The real enemy is an evil race that overpower spacecraft by playing mind games with their crews until they are close enough to the black hole to be sucked in and overrun.'

'Who are they?' asked Captain Slogg.

'We call 'em the Cimmerii. You're gonna spend most of your life fighting 'em, Russ. But never mind that now. Ask Mack to give you warp speed, and then get the hell out of Dodge City... Oh, and by the way: when you're in the clear, get Mack to rewire the garbage crusher. It's been sending your garbage back up the tubes, instead of crushing it.' Suddenly the image faded and the Admiral Slogg’s face was gone.

'Captain, I've located the black hole!' exclaimed Loveseat, and we are in a tractor beam!'

'Give the co-ordinates to Mr Subaru,' ordered Spook.

'Fuck the co-ordinates!' exclaimed Slogg. Didn't you hear what he, I mean I, I mean, what the Admiral said? We gotta get the hell out...'

'But, Captain,' interrupted Spook, 'the three missiles we fired can be reprogrammed to head into the black hole and we can back them up with three more. Then we can go to warp speed.'

Slogg paused for a moment. 'Good thinking, Spook. That should give the enemy something to chew on. Mr Subaru, do you have the co-ordinates?'

'Aye, aye, Captain. And three more missiles locked and loaded.'

'Then you have my permission to blast the bastards.'

'Aye, eye... Captain! Firing, now!'

'Mack?' Slogg turned back to the command screen and, conveniently, Mack's face filled the screen again. 'Warp speed, on my order, Mack.'

'Aye, eye, Captain!'

As soon as the three more missiles were clear, Captain Slogg took the controls and turned the Centipede around and gave the order to go to warp speed. But the tractor beam was too strong; the Centipede was still being pulled towards the black hole and beginning to shudder violently.

'I need more power, Mack!'

Mack's face filled the command-screen again. 'She can't take it, Captain!'

'She's got to, Mack. Give her everything you've got!'

'Aye, aye, sir,'

'Hobbs! Lower the shields to save power,' ordered Mr Spook.

'All missiles synchronised and on target, Captain,' announced Mr Subaru. 'Eight seconds to impact.'

'Eight seconds!’ said Loveseat, with panic in her voice. 'But we're still caught in the tractor beam!’

'Oh, fuck!' exclaimed Captain Slogg. ‘We're all going to die!'

'But you can't die, Captain,' replied Spook. 'You're going to be an admiral, remember?'

'Yeah, that's right!' said Captain Slogg, looking more hopeful. Then suddenly, with one last violent shudder, the Centipede broke free of the tractor beam and, helped by a massive explosion from the vicinity of the black hole, it was hurtled across the galaxy and on into the next one.

***

CAPTAIN'S SLOGG'S LOG – STARDATE: 19 FEBRUARY 3015: Gee-whiz! I'm going to be an admiral!