The Loper:- Exploratory

[Welsh Halfwit]

And now the 'spin off' from the Postain story. Featuring a very different, almost loony, Command style and crew that usually survives through not doing things the way they should be done.

Part one.

INTO THE BRIG

He stepped through the station, his laced boots soundless against the heavy metal in a way they never were on his command. He passed by the scene of last night’s ‘fun’ and winced slightly as he recalled the events without intending to. They were… inconvenient, these memories and he had to deal with the repercussions of them now as he stepped into the Security Office, adjusting his bandolier as he went in and letting his ears prick up to their full height as he stood in front of the Feline guard. He waited as her brain processed the usual response as to if he was a real officer, even though she’d been here a year. “Still catch you out, don’t I,” Hawle asked.
“We’ve only met five times, sir,” she replied.
He winced. “I keep saying you can call me Commander or Aldair when we’re on our own, Chief.”
“Both of those strike me as insubordinate, sir,” the Chief replied.
“Well, I order you to master that level of insubordination when we’re just talking,” Hawle said, pointing a finger over her desk. “Is the drunk in number two awake yet?”
The Chief rolled her eyes and wondered why Hawle couldn’t be like other officers. “Yes, but she’s not going to be riding a Blazing Saddle at any point soon…”
Hawle looked at her in mock confusion. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Now she was confused. “Wait,” she asked, “weren’t you..,” she saw the growing grin on his face and knew she’d been had and screamed internally. “Are you pressing charges,” she asked, trying to get back to level ground.
“I don’t think so,” he replied, cleaning something she couldn’t off a button he shouldn’t have on a uniform he probably shouldn’t be wearing. “After all, it’s hardly mutiny and where would I get a new one in time?” He thumbed to the cell area. “May I go in?”
“Sure.” She pressed a button and opened the door for him to step in.

The other side of the door was a sterile, white, area with five alcoves sealed behind energy barriers. Each alcove contained a bed that doubled as a seating area and a toilet that came out from the wall and ‘fuzzed’ the energy barrier slightly so you couldn’t quite see exactly what was going on. Still, Hawle was thankful she wasn’t ‘at his convenience’ right now and he pulled up a chair as she groaned into a seated position on the bed.
“Morning, sweet cheeks,” Hawle grinned. “How’s the head?”
“Uuuh,” Sarina Raven drawled, “like a Rabbit with size sixteen’s stomping on it,” she said, her ears twisted and her eyes half closed. “What did I do last night,” she asked miserably.
“You mean you don’t recall?” He chuckled now. “It was really quite impressive. You drank quite a number of Calta Starlights…”
“I can handle drink,” Raven drawled, her head pounding out the lie.
“You’d never tried Lappinean Carrot Liquor before,” Hawle told her. “You had several, then sang the Felis National anthem before declaring it was a Feline birthday rite to decide who ate from the cake first and putting my face into a piece of Carrot cake…”
“Oh, gods,” she moaned, “I’m sorry, sir…”
“...after that,” Hawle continued, as though she’d not said anything, “security was forced to stun you after you tried to start a fight with the commentator on the vid-screen when he said Aston Villa were the best Football club in the English West Midlands.”
“Oh, gods,” she repeated.
Hawle started making climbing motions in the air. “Trying to get up to the screen saying ‘What about City? What about City?’ in that plaintive voice you use when trying to be cute…”
“Ooooh…”
“I’m not pressing charges, by the way,” Hawle added. “Henry did remind me that your promotion review was coming up again so we were expecting the sabotage.” He shifted in his seat. “At some point I’m going to have you tell me why you keep doing this sort of thing so you don’t get promoted but it’s not important right now. But you do need to apologise to Sarah, by the way.”
“What did I do to her?”
Hawle shrugged. “Nothing. Much. It WAS her Birthday party, though. I think you know that, when I said I wanted to meet to go over our new mission today, this wasn’t quite what I had in mind?”
“I had gathered,” Raven bleared. “If you want to let me out, I’ll clean up and…”
“Ooooh, no,” Hawle replied, “I have to speak with Henry after and you’re a captive audience now. Took three of them to carry you here last night, by the way.” He sighed, stood, pressed the ‘open’ button and prepared to pass a ‘detox’ capsule through to Raven. The field stayed up. He pressed it again to no avail.
“Other side,” Raven said and Hawle made his way over to the other side of the cell, trying to look as if he always knew the button was on this side. He pressed it and passed the capsule through. Before turning the field back on again. He still needed the Chief’s permission to let her out. He sat back down as she swallowed the capsule and watched as she suffered a hangover in ten seconds. “Ow..,” she moaned. “Flush all that stuff… What did Chapston call it… Hooligan Juice? Out an airlock, would you?”
Hawle shrugged. “Love to. But it belongs to the station bar. Anyhow,” he continued, bringing up a padd, “onto what we’re going to be doing. We’re being sent out, Raven,” he enthused. “Three of the systems just outside Council Space. We’re being sent to go have a look at them! We’ve got potential first contacts!”
“Oh, gods,” Raven moaned. “This can’t be a good idea…”
“Probably not,” Hawle agreed with a sigh, “but we’ve got it. According to Postlethwaite, it’s to do with a number of things. For a start, we’re the fastest ship in the local fleet so we’ve the best chance to evade conflict if someone’s looking for a fight. Secondly, a Frigate is less likely to be taken as a hostile than a larger ship.”
“And the third reason?”
“The larger ship around here is the Rodomont and, as we know, Captain Postain’s as diplomatic as a Brick to the nether regions. We’re taking along a junior Council Ambassador…”
“Oh, gods…” Raven moaned again.
“Apparently she’s barely qualified and has received several reprimands for her actions. They’ve put her here so she won’t ‘rock the boat’ like the last one we transported did. They understood but we probably shouldn’t have put him in the brig…” He shook his head and his ears flew around slightly until he put them back up. “Anyhow, after the refit’s done and the new crewmembers arrive in a day or so, we’re for the off. I want you to be overseeing the supplies that should be arriving today. It’s a long run we’re in for and the Replication systems aren’t infinite. Get the new stores aboard and help Groal get the kitchen set up in the wardroom.” He stood up and brought his hands together. “We’re getting a chef. Not galactic class, of course. Probably more ‘roadside diner’ knowing our luck. Anyhow,” he added, “I should go talk with Henry. I’ll ask the Chief to let you out. Oh,” he added, walking out, “anyone who's not drunk knows West Brom are the best team in the West Midlands!”
“Hah!” Raven called back, “That’s only because a Lappinean bought them!”

And Hawle went about his business.

[Amazee Dayzee]

Really enjoyed reading this because it was so well-written! I think that Hawle should have been pushed into a WHOLE cake instead of a slice. XD

[Welsh Halfwit]

Part 2

WAKE UP TIME

Sarah Chapston woke up in the arms of someone she’d forgotten the name of following the adventures of the night before and made her first checks under the covers. She found she was correct on both counts, one of which was that they were male. She figured she didn’t do this sort of thing often but she was allowed to on her birthday. But now it wasn’t so she slipped out of the bed and headed across to the shower before the… what was he, anyhow? Oh, a Canine. A Russellian, in point of fact. She figured she should have guessed. Growing up in Bristol, she’d had the equivalent Quad Canine through all her childhood so she had a soft spot for them. More than one, if it came to it, it seemed. Where was she? This wasn’t on the ship. Oh yeah, she told herself, they were still on the station. At least it meant she didn’t need to clean up. She gave her night time partner a glance and had to force herself into the shower room without going back and rubbing the flopped tips of his ears between finger and thumb.

A few minutes passed before she came back out and started to get dressed. She could see his clothes from here. Maintenance Technician, she noted, 2nd class. His name tag read ‘Polva’ and she regarded him as she finished pulling up her boots. Decent lines, she told herself, with a nice bit of dispersal between the tan and white sections of fur and quite gentle. She’d noted that by the lack of claw marks. She sat by the bed for a while until he woke up. “Morning,” she said.
He looked her over and then peeked under the covers himself. “Um, did we..?”
Chapston shrugged. “Yup.”
He sat up in the bed, showing off his white chest. “I was pretty sure,” he smirked, “but it’s nice to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.”
Chapston raised an eyebrow at him. “You dreamin’ ‘bout me,” she asked playfully. “Aready?”
“No,” he said uncertainly. “Sort of feared I’d wake and you wouldn’t be here.”
She shrugged again. “Thought on it, Mr Polva,” she admitted, “but d’cided not t’ burn that bridge, y’know? Saw you yest’rday, wi’ yer mates… friends. You gonna tell ‘em ‘bout the night?”
Now it was his turn to shrug. “Thought on it,” he said, deliberately repeating her term, “but decided not to since you’re still sitting there.” he waved a hand. “Something, something, burning bridges, y’know?”
Chapston chuckled slightly. “Y’still gonna be here next time Th’ Loper drops by?” She leaned over the bed slightly.
“Only so long as you’re on board,” he admitted, moving in to kiss her for a last time before she had to leave.

Chapston walked the route between her temporary sleeping quarters and the Loper’s docking port and found herself heading past Karlavan Groal as he set his staff moving equipment and other tools onto the ship. The always somehow slightly greased Celican smiled at her and waved before taking something from his pocket and tossing it to her underarm. She caught the small packet and looked at it. “Betjemann’s Flea powders,” she asked, before getting what he was hinting at and putting on a face that was half amused and half offended. “Yer a git, Karla Groal,” she called, throwing the packet back at him, “and you need this more’n I do!”
He laughed whilst pretending to brace against the incoming ‘missile’ that slapped against his dirty singlet and dropped to the floor. “Just looking out for you, Sarah,” he protested. “Good night, was it,” he asked innocently.
She gave him a coy look. “Not so bad,” she admitted before gesturing to the equipment. “What’s this lot?”
“We,” Groal said, stepping over and putting a hand on her shoulder, “are getting a Chef. A Mican, I think. I’m setting up his kitchen in one of the unused rooms. Want to come watch?”
“I’d rather not,” Chapston remarked, relaxing under the hand for a moment.

Henry Postlethwaite looked at Commander Hawle as he stood on the other side of the Area Command desk and glanced down at the security reports his Chief had prepared. “You think you’re ready to head on out when the new crew arrives?”
“Absolutely,” Hawle replied, “and Raven’s promised not to drink any more of that stuff whilst she’s here.”
Henry smirked. “Liar,” he accused. “She’d never say it and you’d never prosecute.”
Hawle considered it. “You’re right, sir,” he conceded, “I wouldn’t. I’m not quite like Postain, after all.”
Henry nodded and passed the remaining file over to the Lappinean to sign. “Well, she doesn’t have another shot at promotion for six months anyhow. So she’ll keep calm. I’m never quite sure what sort of ship you’re running there, Aldair…”
Aldair shifted position slightly. “You give me the slightly odd crewmembers who don’t fit in on a standard Council ship and I can’t fit them into a normal team. So I make them more like a family.”
“Well, it seems to work for you.” Henry pointed to the padd. “There’s your next challenges.”
Hawle looked them over. “Cedar Kirkwall, Chef. Colleen Una, Junior Ambassador? Oh, I hope she gave her parents grief over that. It’s rather ‘on the nose’ for a Collian, isn’t it? What’s this? Managed to settle a disputed claim on Kelva IV between the Celicans and the Raitchians? That sounds good.”
“The side she WASN’T negotiating for won,” Henry remarked. “She worked out that they were never going to accept her deal and the stalemate would just go on. So she twisted her aims somewhat and got them some compromises they weren’t looking for to achieve a deal she could sell to her own side.”
“R...rright…. And, all of a sudden, they want her away from the main planets?”
“You said it,” Postlethwaite agreed. “And she’s all yours.”

[CyberDragon]

Looks good so far!

[Amazee Dayzee]

I am for one looking forward for a certain character to make her appearance and see how her relationship with Hawle will go after their first meeting.

[Welsh Halfwit]

That's some time away...

This story isn't set too long after the Postain one where Rabbits threatened the safety of the USC and Barleycorn managed to insult Postain's Chief Medical Officer.

Part 3

OFF DUTY.

The station cafe hummed with evening business as the pair sat in the far corner, away from the through fare where shoppers and travellers mingled. The large, back furred, Mican was finishing up something on a padd before she passed it over to her compatriot and sipped her Coffee, leaving her health bagel untouched as the Lappinean opposite put down her piece of cake and began to read. The Mican looked on expectantly as she read the article through.
“So,” Night Barleycorn prompted, “what do you think of it?” She gestured hopefully towards her compatriot.
Jaqui Pangal, Security Chief of the Loper, put the padd back down. “Other than forgetting to write ‘I’m a complete idiot who doesn’t deserve forgiveness for an absolutely stupid lack of professionalism’ it’s a pretty good apology. I have a feeling this Cobalt will probably accept.”
“It was really more of an explanation than an apology,” Barleycorn insisted.
Pangal sighed. “I know you have your problems with Raitchians…”
“Well, my mother was…”
“Like I said,” Pangal interrupted quickly, “I know you have problems with your father’s species but you’ve always been professional. The first time I hear of that slipping and it has to be with HIS Raitchian?”
“I said I’m sorry…”
“I know,” Jaqui said. “I think you need a Raitchian Doctor undern… working for you.” She raised her arms. “You need to deal with this, Night! You know you do!”
“Who appointed you mother,” Barleycorn grumbled without malice.
“Hawle did,” Jaqui replied, matter of factly. “He caught it in the ear from Postain who caught it in the ear from her. I’m telling you that Hawle tells me that the only reason she didn’t put it in an official report is because Hawle told Postain to tell her that I’d tell you to…” She looked confused a moment and her left ear twisted sideways as she nodded her head to work out what she’d just said and if it was correct. She nodded. “I’d tell you to apologise.”
“And you’ve done so,” Barleycorn huffed, before deflating slightly. “I could do with back up,” she admitted before looking her friend in the eye. “A Raitchian? Really?”
“You need to work it through, Night,”
The Doctor’s shoulders slumped. “Trial period only?”
“I’m sure it can be arranged.”
“You’ve already lined one up, right?”
“He’s twelve hours away by shuttle and has wanted a ship based assignment for months. We have too few ships out here to make it possible so he’s been stuck at Caldera City Barracks medical centre since. They’ve got spare capacity. I reckon a medical request can get him assigned.
Barleycorn sighed. “All right… I’ll need to get a form from the Commander.”
Jaqui smirked softly, opened up a window on the padd she’d given her friend to use, and passed it over to her. “Did that already,” she said.
Doctor Barleycorn groaned, applied her print to the request and put it in the system. “I’m gonna get you for this, Jaqui,” she threatened, before impaling her cake with a fork. “Why is everyone glaring at us?”
Now it was Chief Pangal’s turn to look a little depressed. “It’s not you,” she admitted, “it’s me. I imagine it’s going to take time for people here to trust Lappineans again. I’ll be back to the ship after this,” she admitted, “running security drills and preparing the ship. Fire drills for the Galley will be a new thing. Apparently Groal’s set it up so that it can be opened to space if needs be. Re-enforced walls, sealable vents and an emergency decompression system. He’s quite proud of it.”
“He’d have to be,” Barleycorn admitted, pointing to Pangal’s plate. “Drink your cake before it gets cold.”
Pangal knew how to reply to this. It was an old comedy skit that had long since stopped being funny in general but still worked for them. “Eat your Coffee.”

Hawle used the holographic ‘gatefold’ facility on his magazine to expand it to a full length view as he lay back on his settee. He appreciated the picture for a moment before clicking it away and moving on to an article about Coffee making on Pandera. Honestly, he told himself, the selection of articles in the thing was truly… odd. He put the magazine away and checked his padd. He noted the request from Barleycorn had gone through and made a note to thank Pangal when he got the chance. The general reports about the threat of fights in the Star-wheel bar and he considered closing it for the third time this week. Seeing as it was Tuesday, that was quite something. The trouble was people needed to let off steam and they often needed to drink. Most of the time they were fine but occasionally there were days… But if you removed the legal place to drink, where you could watch over it, that just led to hidden drinking where the situation stayed under a shroud until the fight occurred. His door chimed and he put the padd down. “Come on in,” he said, his voice releasing the lock to open the door.
His 2nd Officer, the Collian Harper Grovan, stepped in and noted the Captain was still lying down. “Oh, I’m sorry, sir,” he started, “I can come…”
“It’s my room, Harper, I’ll slouch if I want to. What’s up?”
“You’ve seen the reports they’ve given us, sir? The…”
“...unclaimed worlds that we’re to do initial, close range, scans on? What of it?”
“That’s work that could be done by drones,” Grovan complained. “We shouldn’t be doing it. We’re needed here, sir.”
Hawle sat up and his ears straightened. “Do you hear that,” he asked, seemingly alarmed. He looked under his bed. Nothing.
Grovan looked around, as though the Captain were hearing things beyond his audible range. “No, sir?” He tensed. “What is it?”
Hawle settled back onto his elbows. “It’s the sound of Command caring where we think we should be. It’s not our choice, Harper. Besides,” he added, breezily, “there’s inhabited planets too! Plenty of people for us to meet with and talk with. We might even fail to insult several of them. You’re ready for it, Harper. We’ve been here quite some time. It may do us good to ‘get out’ for a bit and stretch our legs.”
“Rabbits do like to run,” Grovan mused.
“Actually, Harper,” Hawle replied, “Rabbits like to eat, mate, hop and make friends, not just run.” He sat up. “But we also know there’s a need to explore our surroundings.” He swung himself to a seated position. “I only allow so much direct insubordination you know?”
Grovan immediately went to attention. “Sir! I didn’t mean…”
Hawle waved a hand. “Relax before I think you’re starched. I don’t agree with it much either, Harper. But we do as directed and we’re the one exploring strange new worlds, and new civilisations; going… Bloody Chapston and her vids, it’s got in my head. Anyhow, let’s go make sure we’re ready when the others arrive, shall we? Oh, set up a room for a new Doctor when you get the chance.” He stood, putting his boots flat onto the deck plates before heading out into his ship.

[Amazee Dayzee]

I know that it is but it doesn't mean I'm not excited for it. Plus in the meantime maybe Hawle will have some more unfortunate incidents happen to him.

[Welsh Halfwit]

Part 4

Entrees.

Colleen Una checked over her brief again and wondered exactly how long she was going to be penalized for saving lives as she’d done. They’d pretty much stood her down and banjaxed her career because she’d chosen lives over her mission. It was supposed to BE her mission, wasn’t it, saving lives? So what had they been thinking of, sending her out here? Mind you, she told herself, it could have been worse. She could have had a diplomatic position with her Mother’s team. It wasn’t that she didn’t LIKE her Mother but she really needed to get out from under her apron strings. Even her Mother had looked aghast at that prospect, Colleen recalled, contemplating the possibility that her mother had influenced the Council somehow. But, as she was here, doing a job, she was going to try and do it to the best of her abilities. She just wished she knew more about the crew of this ship, the Loper. She’d been looking through their records and had the gnawing feeling that their details were somehow… incomplete. Every officer looked efficient but had been in position for years. People normally moved off frigates within a year, from the stories of the Senior Officers she’d met at her Parent’s ‘get togethers’ and these people hadn’t. They seemed to sprinkle reprimands and citations like confetti on these people. Were they skilled or rank amateurs? It seemed to depend on what day it was. Colleen wondered if she might get a second opinion from someone who’d actually lived in this area of space. She’d noted him on her way through to first class so she decided to go and look for him. She put her Wine glass to one side and stood up, adjusting her trousers for comfort, and headed towards the coach class area.

She slid through the aisle, somehow looking glamorous despite her spats, and picked out her target, stopping next to the Mican in the aisle seat, trying to relax against an Equinnan Female who was taking up most of the other two seats and, quite frankly, intimidating him without even trying. She leaned over. “Are you Cedar Kirkwall,” she asked, her voice flowing politely into his ears and almost working to soothe his temper.
He did, however, manage to look kindly at her. “I am indeed,” he said, offering a hand. “Are you here to offer me an upgrade?”
She chuckled at what she hoped was a joke. “I’m Colleen Una? I’m joining you on the Loper and, well, as I do need to ask you questions about our new shipmates, I suppose we could do it where I’m sat? You’ll need your bag.”
“Oh,” he started, “I, uh, don’t have any carry on stuff. It’s all in the hold.”
“Oh, well, come on then.” Without waiting, she turned and headed back to the front of the shuttle.

She heard him catch up to her as she entered through the curtain and knew she had an ‘upper hand’ as he gasped audibly at the compartment he was coming into. It was largely empty, for one, with only fifteen on the forty seats occupied. There was a working vidscreen built into every seat back and an actual silver service trolley service coming towards them.
“Am I allowed to be up here,” he asked from behind her back.
“You’re my guest,” she reminded him, heading for her seat. She slid into the seat, rotating it so she didn’t have to angle herself in first.
“It’s quite a size,” Cedar enthused. “Do I share it with you?”
She chuckled and pressed a button that took her chair back a few feet so he could get past to the other seat in the row. He strapped in before the steward got to them and Colleen had returned her chair to it’s correct place.
Colleen looked the menu over. “I’ll take the Silverside, please.” She looked to Cedar.
He looked back for a few seconds before he realised she was asking him what he wanted (without saying it). “Oh,” he started, looking at the extensive menu. “Um… I’ll have the… uh… Grain steak?”
“Thank you, sir.” The attendant moved off and Cedar turned to watch him go.
“He’s not going to charge me for that, is he?”
“Relax and pretend you’re born to it,” Colleen advised. “Now, what can you tell me about our soon to be crewmates?”
Cedar contemplated the question whilst he fingered the wine glass she’d left there earlier. She filled it from a half bottle she had by the side of her chair. “Um, well,” he said uncertainly, “I only know a little about the Captain.”
“Anything helps,” Colleen said.
“Well, I…” he sipped the wine. “It’s, um. He was at a Banquet for Ambassador Hollen a few months back. He was the only one who visited the kitchens for food. I was the sous chef. He said the food upstairs was very good but he preferred to eat the same thing as the chefs do. Then he asked the Vegetable Chef what HE was having later and asked us to make him that when we got the chance and slip it to him.” Cedar smiled lightly. “I still wonder about their faces as they had all sorts of of specialised delicacies and he had Beans on toast.”
“So he’s someone who doesn’t like being told what to do, eh,” Colleen asked as the food was served. “I’d bet Old Hollen hated that. Probably why he did it.”
“Thank you,” Cedar told the server before trying his food. “I could do better,” he said.
“I’d hope so,” she replied. “You are a Chef, after all.”
“What I’m really afraid of,” Cedar confided, “is that my kitchen is being set up by a Celican Engineer.”
“I’ll avoid it until you have the bugs worked out.” She sipped her wine and the two did their best to pass the time talking.

Groal looked into the Computer room for his target, Harvey Winsome. “You in here, Harv,” he asked. “I need a bit of help with something.”
The Jondahl youth, sometimes called a Squirreloid (but not very often), stuck his head down from the ledge he’d been squatting on, his feet gripping the ledge and his claws keeping him hanging without falling on his head. “What’s up, Karlavan,” he asked.
“I’ve got the kitchen largely set up but I’ve no real idea how to program the computers.”
Harvey’s face fell. “Are you telling me you want me to program a microwave?”
Groal nodded as Harvey flipped down, landing on his feet. “And set the clock on the Oven,” he lied, knowing it’d take the boy some time to do the work he had for him. “The Fridges and freezers also need calibrating and you’ve got nothing to do.”
“I’m supposed to be ship’s telepath, not someone for this sort of thing!” He faked a huff. He never gave much vent to his powers, such as they were, anyway. He was nowhere as powerful as the others. He had to be close to ‘talk’ to people and feel their emotions. Plus he really didn’t care for that and they knew it. It just came in useful when he wanted to have a strop about something.
“Ask the machines if they’re feeling well,” Groal advised, putting a hand on the Jondahl’s shoulders and propelling him towards the Kitchen.

[Amazee Dayzee]

Once again you did a great job with writing this chapter. I need to see the next chapter quick!

[Welsh Halfwit]

Part 5

SYSTEM UPDATE

Hawle made his way up to the bridge with his hands behind his back and whistling under his breath about what was going on. He’d seen the smirks and amused looks yesterday, especially on the bridge crew’s faces and knew this was a chance he had to take. He’d made the arrangements with Winsome and knew exactly when it was going to happen and decided to set things going now as he entered the bridge and walked past Grovan and the weapons and tech officers to his seat. He slapped himself down into the mock leather and waved away a greeting as though he was angry. “Give me a full systems report, Grovan,” he ordered, “start with the power relays. How’re they doing?”
Grovan consulted his padd before replying. “Engineering reports the relays are operating at eighty percent efficiency. Programming is going on to get that to ninety-five percent by this evening. We took more damage from the encounter with the Hoya than we thought, it seems.”
“Yeah,” Hawle replied, “and within the automobile our ‘no-claims’ bonus for the year. Half speed back to the station. Felt like we’d never get there. Push them for Ninety-five by this afternoon. I want us ready to leave when the shuttle with our new Doctor gets on board. How’s Communications?”
Grovan looked a little confused at this. They’d not had any reported problems with the communications systems and he said so.
“Let’s test the link up’s anyhow,” Hawle persisted, “before Sarina gets here. Channel… Seven should do. Call the Tech department.”

As planned, the viewscreen cut into life, but didn’t show the young Jondahl face. It showed a CCTV recording of events a couple of nights back in the cafeteria, where Chapston’s group were celebrating her birthday with drinks and food. Chapston was making eyes at someone across the room – a Russellian, as Hawle recalled - Raven was leading the singing – thankfully silent in the replay and Grovan had just headed to the conveniences when the cake was brought out and put on the table. In respect to the Captain, Chapston had chosen a Carrot cake for her birthday and the bridge crew watched as it was placed on the table on the screen and pieces were cut for everyone. Hawle grimaced as he recalled what happened next and mentally replayed the words as Raven declared the Feline tradition and pushed his face into the cake before his piece was cut. He gesticulated on screen and face-palmed off it as he heard the chuckling around him. “Right,” he said, standing up, “I did that to end speculation as to what it looked like for those who weren’t there! No-one is allowed to mention that incident from this moment on or they’ll have to explain to Commander Raven as to why they think it was funny! If you fail to convince her, you’ll long for a toothbrush as you go on latrine reclamation duties for a week!” He turned to Grovan. “Tell Winsome to delete that footage now, will you? And check he did it when you get the chance.”
“Aye, sir,” Grovan replied, his lack of sense of humour coming as a comfort to Hawle right now as he could keep a straight face. “Engines are operating correctly, according to Groal, and he’d know.”
“Schedule an engine test for 1800 with Control. Might as well give those ninety-five percenters a run out to make sure they don’t go ‘bang’ when we’re on the mission. Recall all needed people for the drill. Weapons up to grade?”
“Repairs done,” Grovan replied matter of factly. “Calibration tests still need to be carried out as they don’t like us blowing in the station windows, sir.”
Hawle looked at his second officer with a wry smile. “Why, Grovan, if I didn’t know you better, I’d swear you just made a joke.”
“The humour happens to match the facts,” the Collian replied. “TPulse cannon two had to be completely refitted. Have you heard they’re opening a new base on Cora II? They just signed the contracts after a meeting between the President and Captain Postain.”
“Ye-es,” Hawle mused, rubbing his chin, Even after this time, he could still be surprised by how fast Grovan could change subjects. “I did notice she seemed to rather like him on the vidnews report. Anyhow, it’s good news. They’ll be able to keep an eye on the Chemical factories they’re setting up.”
“Repurposing,” Grovan corrected.
“Yes, of course. But for legal reasons this time. And back to us. How’re the stores doing?”
Grovan checked his padd again and followed as Hawle walked towards his office. “All groceries loaded, drinks stocks for the Star Wheel loaded and watered down.” He stopped as Hawle ordered a drink from the replication machine. He continued. “Medical supplies are due in on the same shuttle as out Ambassador and Chef. Replacement parts are being loaded as we speak. Groal reports he wants to run power tests on the new ‘kitchen’ to make sure the microwave cooks everything inside the unit and leaves everything outside it uncooked. Plus there’s the fact he wants to make absolutely sure the cooker doesn’t explode.”
“Sounds like a good idea,” Hawle replied, sitting down. “I seem to recall giving him free reign.”
“It’s called passing the buck, sir.”
“Figured that.” He put his feet on the desk. “At least he got the chair sealed to the floor properly. Any other items to report? Beyond your dislike of the mission,” he added quickly.
“Nothing beyond slight problems setting up the new Doctor’s apartment. Repairs are being carried out on the normal sized cabins for a Doctor’s rank. We need to set him up in a ‘C’ class cabin for the moment.”
“Fine by me. Repairs of crew cabins can’t be prioritised. I’ll be here for the next few hours doing the crew evaluations Command sent to keep me busy. It’ll take me a while. Henry’s noted I often just say ‘as expected’ or ‘exceeded expectations’ or ‘why did you inflict her on me, god’ next to the pictures and he wants more.” He looked up. “Speaking of things that need to be done, once you’ve done what I asked, you’ve got some hours free. Go spend those on the station.”
“Sir,” Grovan protested, “I…”
“It’d be a good idea to buy some souvenirs,” Hawle continued, as though Grovan had said nothing, “and, of course, you can get Chapston that birthday gift you forgot about.”
Grovan dropped his arms down to his sides. “I have no idea what to buy her, sir,” he complained. “I mean, what do Humans even like?”
“Booze, food, Vids, clothes and shoes mostly, from what I’ve seen.” He grinned. “Part of the fun’s in the choosing and part’s in the utter terror before they decide if they like it or not. And you’ve just been paid. Also smelly water but probably best you leave that to her. Off you go,” he remarked, not losing the grin. “The shop owner’s waiting for you with some Sherry from her home city under the counter…”
“Thank you, sir,” Grovan said, clearly relieved.
“You think I’d let you fail her,” Hawle replied before shooing him out.

It was a good day, Hawle thought. Then he wondered when the other shoe would drop...

[Amazee Dayzee]

Really awesome chapter that you posted! I think this came out fine and is my new favorite! I hope a certain counselor can be shown the recording.

[Welsh Halfwit]

Part 6

TARGET PRACTICE

Hawle sat back in his seat as the ship streaked through Hyperspace and tapped his finger-claws on the armrests irritably. “Chappers,” he asked the helm officer, lightness faked in his tone.
“Yes, sir,” she replied, not turning to face him as she knew what was coming next.”
“Are we there yet?”
She smiled towards her console. Every mission they’d done, he’d asked that. For him, the journey wasn’t the thing, just the space between where you were and where you wanted to be. “No, sir,” she replied, “even with two Harkalan drives working at full capacity, it’ll take us another five, sir. Now hush up or I’ll turn this muffins and cookies thing around, sir!”
“I will throw my toys out of the pram, Chapston,” Hawle replied. The tone was irreverent but, then, so was his opinion of having to travel so far for engine and weapons tests. Command liked using this small asteroid belt for testing weapons. It had, once, been part of contested space between a Feline and Raitchian colony who’d both wanted it for mining rights. So they’d drawn sabres and started rattling them until an independent expert had actually landed on a few of the asteroids and taken samples that indicated a profit could be made from the Gold and platinum in them but not enough to justify that much expense. So it had been declared neutral ground between the colonies and the Council was permitted to blow the occasional asteroid apart. That way pieces could enter uncontested space and be harvested nearer orbit. Hawle didn’t entirely know the logic but it was a good place to blow up rocks.

“Haven’t got there yet,” he told Raven, “and I already want to leave.”
“Can’t say I blame you, Captain,” Raven replied, “old battlefields are never fun to visit.”
“I… don’t think there were ever any battles here, Sarina,” Hawle said, thinking on it.
“That’s even worse,” Raven grumped, “visiting an old battlefield where there hasn’t even been a battle. It sounds really boring.”
“Sirs,” Chapston cut in. “We’re here.”

The Loper cut back into normal space some one hundred and fifty thousand kilometres from the nearest of the grey/white rocks that hung in space where, an eternity ago, something like a moon had once existed. To the far left lay the small green planet, almost pea sized from here, that the Raitchians called Harbulary and Hawle knew the Feline Colony of Sylvestria was somewhere behind the Loper right now, almost the same distance from them as Harbulary. It was what had been causing the problems. Now they just hung there, quiet, serene, moving slowly and silently through… “I have a contact, sir,” Chapston reported.
“Beg pardon, Chapston,”
“There’s a ship in the asteroids, sir,” Chapston insisted, bringing up the image on viewer. A small, roughly square, ship was moving between the rocks to the middle of the field.
“Identify it,” Hawle told the sciences officer, a Raitchian called Match.
“The scans show it as… A Canine trader, sir. The Kinga, out of Caldera.”
“Too far out,” Hawle cautioned, turning back towards the screen. He crossed his legs, left over right, leaving his one foot hanging in the air. He indicated the screen with a finger. “Dawton,” he said, identifying the communications Officer, “give them a bell, will you?”
“Aye, sir,” the Human replied, opening a channel. “Getting no response, sir.”
“Alright,” Hawle said, “Chapston, you up to it?”
Sarah turned, her black hair following her with the speed at which she’d turned. “Into an asteroid field, sir,” she asked, slightly alarmed. The shock dissipated into a grin, “absolutely, sir.” She turned back to the controls.
“Well, then,” Hawle remarked, “take us in. Shields up. Just in case, Chappers! Dawton, keep hailing. Weapons, power the concussion cannons to fifty percent. We’re here to test them, after all.”
“Not on a ship,” Raven reminded him.
“Of course not,” Hawle remarked before gesturing at the ship on the screen, “but he doesn’t know that.”
Raven thought of something as they entered the field and turned onto the tail of the fleeing ship. “How come you sometimes call ships by the pronoun ‘him’? Isn’t it usual to use ‘her’?”
Hawle looked comically offended. “Why, Raven,” he said, “you expect me to fire on a lady? I’m shocked.”
Raven shrugged. “Forgot you’re a gentle-rabbit. Now,” she added, in a lower tone so the others couldn’t hear, “why are we in this asteroid field? We could have gone over the top.”
This time Hawle shrugged. “I need to know how Chappers reacts in tight spaces,” he whispered. “So does she. I also need to know if our gunners can shoot properly. Which reminds me…” He raised his voice to normal level. “OK,” he continued, “let’s end this chase before it’s begun, Chapston’s doing brilliantly but I don’t want to pay for a respray. Weapons, target one of the asteroids ahead of them and make it into debris. Might make him stop. Warning shot sort of thing.”

They watched as twin beams of energy shot from the pivot mounted cannons… and impacted on an asteroid far too far in front of the target to be of any effect. “Would you like cross-hairs,” Hawle asked sweetly.
“No, sir,” the weapons officer reported. “They, uh, do need calibration.”
“I suggest you do it quickly,” Hawle said. “There’s reasons we don’t want people getting too close to these rocks so it’d be an idea to catch him. The only way we’d catch him right now is if he doubled up in laughter and shut his engines off.”
“Aye, sir,” the gunner grumbled. Hawle saw Raven looking at him with a ‘what’ expression on her face. He just tapped the top of his muzzle in reply as Chapston put the ship into a sharp right turn and flipped the ship over an asteroid as she went, getting the gunners a clearer shot at possible target asteroids. They fired, scorching trails across the surface of the asteroid they’d targetted and shaving debris into the void.
“Up the power ten percent and try again,” Hawle ordered, still enjoying how he could be flipped upside down like that and still stay right way up. The guns next shot was spot on and an asteroid exploded, puffing out dust and elements in all directions. The ship kept going until a second shot achieved a similar result. The craft came to a stop.
“It’s still not responding to hails, Captain,” Dawton said worriedly.
“Don’t worry about it, Dawton,” Hawle said, “Chappers, take us to these co-ordinates.” He tapped the co-ordinates into his arm rest panel and ‘slid’ them to Chapston’s display. “We need to pick Flight Lieutenant Harty up from the mine.”
Now Raven looked at him more intently. “The MINE?”
Hawle shrugged. “The colonies would have gone to war over this space if they’d known how much it was worth. So someone on the Council – probably a Raitchian – no offence meant, Match – came up with faking a report that there was nothing much of value. We pay rent to the both of them to use this as a practice range and they mine some of the larger asteroids, one at a time, for all the platinum and precious metals they’re stuffed with. Which we use to invest in those colonies, by and large.”
“By and large?”
“Admin costs, of course.”
“Would they give me a raise if I were offended, sir,” Match asked.
“No, but you might get transferred to an office on Felis.”
“Good job I’m not offended.”

They closed in on the small base to pick up their new fighter leader. Hawle hoped her remote controlling skills showed her true capabilities.

[Amazee Dayzee]

Loving how this has came out! I hope that Hawle learns to have some patience soon.

[Welsh Halfwit]

Loving how this has came out! I hope that Hawle learns to have some patience soon.

I often use Hawle to poke fun at tropes in Sci-fi (Particularly Star Trek) Things like the senior officers just sitting on the bridge as they warp through space, saying nothing...

[Amazee Dayzee]

Oh yeah OK I see it. Haven't watched any shows about space but I get it. This must mean that Hawle is more susceptible to slapstick right?

[Welsh Halfwit]

Part 7

Maze Runner.

The Loper hung over the lump of rock as the lone figure, bedecked in a sealed flight suit, tramped the surface of the asteroid from the small miner complex to her parked ship and opened the canopy before gripping the handrail and releasing the gravity control on her boots. She kept her grip and looped into the seat before closing the canopy above her and turning the generator on. She waited as the air systems refilled the small space before she disconnected her own air supply and opened the visor, showing her pale cream face as she activated the radio. “Starlancer 11 returning to ship,” she said, just in case anyone was listening in.
“<Confirmed, StarLancer 11>” Dawton replied from the ship as Flight Leader Maze Harty ran through the extended pre-launch checks her prototype needed before engaging the minimal upward thrust to carry the ship off the surface of the asteroid and shifted to minimal forward to carry it away when she was clear. A cruiser had brought her out here a day or so ago and she was interested to see how a Frigate compared. She had the feeling it was going to be more cramped but, after the near standing room only effect of the ‘mine’, it’d still be a major rise in living standards. The five people working there were well paid, of that she had no doubt, but she didn’t think much of their sleep room and recreation room/kitchen/sickbay with sonic shower. Still, they’d been nice enough and had let her leave with a piece of Platinum. It had been nice of them. She hoped it wouldn’t show as an anomaly on the weights check.

Flight Leader Harty brought the fighter smoothly into the landing bay and se it down gently onto the deck plates as the doors behind her closed and the energy fields that had kept the air imprisoned were allowed off. She flicked the switch that lowered the steps from under the nose and unlocked the cockpit so she could stand up and exit the craft. She took found her way to the changing room and removed her flying suit to reveal light clothes underneath. She knew… or hoped… her suitcase had been brought on board already. Pale shirts and shorts were adequate clothes for keeping out of the way in a warm mine but she didn’t think a U.S.C. Captain would have the same feelings. But she still had to report to the First Officer so, reluctantly keeping her boots on, she headed for the bridge.

She stepped out onto a bridge where everyone seemed to be pulling off something a little different with their uniforms. The usual trappings were there, of course – blue uniforms with the jacket trims denoting their department but she noticed anomalies that confused her. The Raitchian was wearing a belt made out of silver, for example. She could see it peeking out. In fact half the bridge crew were wearing belts outside their jackets for whatever reason and the Feline with the Commander’s idents on her shoulders definitely had a shoulder holster on. But the Captain..? Old style suede boots, the wrong tone trousers, a frilled shirt under his jacket and a bandolier? Ooookay.

“Are you going to stand there for long, Flight Leader,” she heard a voice say and it shook her back to reality as she realised someone had talked to her. How long had she been staring? “Um,” she started. “Yes, yes, sir.” She stepped forward and handed her documentation to Raven. “Flight Leader Harty, reporting for duty sir,” she said, standing to attention.
“So noted,” Raven replied, accepting the details. “How was your journey?”
Hawle watched as the conversation started and Harty detailed the trip from the testing grounds on Celta, a Celican colony and her time on the mine. “Do..Do you want to continue this conversation in my office or shall I switch chairs so you can borrow mine, Raven,” he asked, gesturing to the empty seat to his left. Harty was almost thinking she was suffering from some sort of oxygen starvation right now and thought about pinching herself as Hawle stood and Raven slid into his seat. “Welcome aboard, Flight leader,” Hawle said to her.
“Th...thank you, sir,” she said.
“Simulation report in ten minutes? My office?”
She nodded mutely. “Um…”
He thumbed towards it. “Not going to ask about the uniforms,” he asked coyly. “Points for you. I run a ship that’s professional where it counts and a little looser where it doesn’t. I end up with a lot of people who want to be here. All the uniforms are within the established parameters, even if not quite the ‘current model’. We’re a sophisticated style of subtle crazy aboard this ship, Flight. It’ll take a few days but you’ll get used to it. If you want what you’re wearing as uniform? Get the right colours and you’re set.”
She looked down at herself and thought he was actually making sense, considering the flight suit she had to wear. “Um, thank you, s..sir.”
“Now, the combat report?” He indicated the rest of the bridge. “The people who need to hear your reports are right here. Might as well tell them direct.”
Harty took a moment and thought she’d rather be in direct combat again than doing this but, as it was an order… she thought… she might as well obey. “O...kay. Your cannons still need to be calibrated slightly, I think, and you still need to test them at full power. At least,” she said, deciding to try a slight joke, “ I HOPE they still need calibrating.” She gave a watery smile before turning to Chapston. “Now you can drive,” she admitted, feeling more comfortable with this part of the conversation. “Throwing a frigate around like a fighter? I like it. Especially that flip over and asteroid. It almost caught me out.”
Sarah nodded. “Well, I had to test everything out. Not usually one for dancin’ in an asteroid field, mind…”
“Yes, I did wonder why no-one scanned for radio signals..?”
“Ah, that was me,” Hawle confessed. “I told Dawton not to. It would have spoiled the exercise if he’d tracked you.”
“You knew about it,” Match asked from the science station, wondering how the Human had kept that to himself. The Human shrugged and suppressed a grin.
“Orders is orders, Lieutenant Match,” Hawle advised, “so ‘strike’ any complaints and help the helm work a clear path out of here. We don’t want to run into any gaseous anomalies or anything.”
“Aye, sir,” The Raitchian remarked, turning to his console as Chapston worked out a route and the two consoles consulted each other.
“I think your quarters are on B deck, section 12, Flight Leader. That’s where your luggage is anyhow. Your room systems have been synchronised with the ship so you can freshen up before you get all the fighter pilots together so you can yell at them. They’ll be ready for a half hour in the asteroids in a short while so you can put them through their paces. Then we’ll head back to Talvary and pick up our Doctors.” Hawle leaned forward and she saw the twinkle in his eye. “So don’t hurt them, eh?”

[Amazee Dayzee]

A really lovely part 7! I am enjoying Hawle so much and want to see more of him! ^^

[Welsh Halfwit]

Part 8

Jaqui’s Morning.

Jaqui Pangal considered things like this to be among the more unusual part of her security detail as she sat inside the holding area and waited for her ‘customer’ to regain consciousness. He hadn’t been drinking in the bar during the evening. He hadn’t been offensive to anyone or anything but, quite frankly, he hadn’t seen her coming either. She’d long ago decided that the best way to take people in without a fight wasn’t to call their name across the room or book an appointment, it was to walk up behind them with a shokstik and tap the back of their head before catching their falling form. It gave them much less time to run or fight or sabotage the ship in ways that made it blow up. Of course, she could only do it with people she had good evidence or warrants against and, quite frankly, the Feline now waking up with a fizzy brain was covered by that. “You faking it, Murrs,” she asked and the Feline groaned his way awake. “Thought so.”
“Why am I in a cell,” the Siaman replied, putting his hand to the back of his head and suddenly realising he was wearing security gloves, preventing his claws emerging.
“Well,” Jaqui told him, “it’s all to do with a transfer request we received.”
“I’ve… not put in for any transfer,” the Feline said, looking as though he was checking through his memories for any transfer he’d put in and finding nothing.
“Oh, I never said you did, Oliver.” Pangal stood up and started walking around the room. “And the Captain certainly doesn’t arrest people who want to transfer out. It has to take a special case.” She stopped and angled herself towards him. “You recall the evening with Engineer Berwick? Where you got nicely inebriated?”
Murrs frowned. Surely… “He hasn’t complained, has he?”
“No,” Pangal admitted, “but, when he posted the pictures he took to Galnet, your wife noticed them and she certainly did. Seeing as how you died in a transport crash two years ago.”
The Feline put his head in his hands.
“Yes, she saw that, recognised you and started asking questions like ‘can this be true,’ ‘where’s the Felnach been hiding these last two years’ and ‘can I sue him for Child maintenance’?”
He groaned again as she continued on.
“So you faked your own death to escape as she wouldn’t grant you a divorce and signed up under your cousin’s name with an account he thought he’d closed, yes? Shame he got tagged in the photographs and it loaded to his friends list. Which includes your wife… Or, rather, his wife as you were declared dead and she married him to make sure your kitten had a dad.” She glanced at him. “It’s a fun day so far”
“Why are you doing this to me,” he moaned.
“Oh, because I don’t like you,” Jaqui replied, matter-of-factly. “You signed on with false documents which means muggins ‘ere has to check everything you’ve done on board over the time you’ve been here, Mr Cova. Note your real name, by the way. It’ll be said to you numerous times whilst IOC tears your life apart to make sure you’re not part of some terrorist organisation. Then you’ll be charged with impersonation, fraud and gods alone know what other things and spend a fair amount of time in an isolation cell. But, on the plus side, you probably won’t need to pay maintenance. So there’s that, at least. We’ll be docking at the station shortly and IOC will come get you. Now,” she added, gesturing to her office, “I’m going to go in there – where your boots are safely stored – and get a Pot Porridge. Byeeee,” she said, giving him a little fingerwave before retreating to her office where Barleycorn was waiting for her.

“Slow day,” she asked her best friend as she took the insta-heat porridge from the desk and fired it up.
“The Captain apparently told the new Flight leader that I wasn’t on board so she didn’t push the envelope,” Barleycorn said, making it clear that she wasn’t complaining by the tone of her voice. “She’s a Rat, y’know?”
Jaqui Pangal broke the top seal of her breakfast after shaking it and paused as she was about to put the spoon in. “They DO exist, you know,” she remarked smartly. “There’s several billion of them throughout the spaceways. There’s only a handful on this ship.”
“I know, I know,” Barleycorn protested, “I’m being surrounded and you’re right! They’re not all to blame for my Dad’s actions.” She sighed. “I’ve checked out this one you’ve sicced on me, by the way. He’s nineteen. A Prodigy they can’t wait to get rid of.”
“Impulsive,” Jaqui remarked, “just like you aren’t. Fearless, just like you. Skilled, just like you. If I were to pass you a chisel you could make a Doctor out of his slab by knocking the rough edges off.”
“Or his head,” the Doctor added.
“Then I’d have to arrest you,” Chief Pangal remarked, eating her breakfast. “I’m sure you’ll do fine with him. He’s supposed to be friendly.”
“They all are.” Barleycorn shook her head. “What’s chummy in for?”
“Impersonation and running away,” Jaqui said enigmatically. “We’re handing him to smarter people when we dock. Meantime he can’t use anything sharp in there – or strangle himself – to avoid the humiliation of home.”
“You really think he’d do that?” Barleycorn looked concerned at the thought.
“You never can tell,” Pangal replied. “The guy’s running from something, that’s for sure. But it’s not up to me to find out what. The lie represented him as a threat that I had to deal with. Let IOC do their part.” She held up the pot and peered in as though checking to see if there was any breakfast left in the pot. She worked out that there wasn’t and tossed the pot over her shoulder and into the bin. “Sickbay all ready to get on with our trip, Night?”
“All stocked and ready for all things I can think of. And the same for my vid collection.”
Jaqui grimaced. “More comedies?”
Night nodded. “They’re better than those action films you keep foisting into our get togethers,” she told the Lappinean before getting up and heading back towards her department. “MY choice first!”
“As if,” Jaqui retorted as she heard the news that the ship had begun docking procedures. Five minutes early, Jaqui noted. Chapston would be pleased. So would Groal.

Ten minutes later, she handed her prisoner over to IOC as a Raitchian in a flower shirt boarded.

[Amazee Dayzee]

Really lovely job as always! I am loving your work on these!

[Welsh Halfwit]

Part 9

Welcome Aboard.

The tall, dignified, figure of Ambassador Una stood in front of Commander Hawle’s desk and looked down at him as he sat there, pointedly ignoring her and going through forms until she coughed. He looked up and seemed to see her for the first time. “Oh,” he said, standing up, “you should have introduced yourself, Ambassador.”
“I DID,” she announced tetchily. “I did as soon as I came into your office.”
He reacted with some surprise to that fact. “You came into my office? Usually people press the bell and wait until I tell the door to open.”
She smiled and admitted to herself that that might just have been a little ‘faux pas’ on her part. She’d been so struck by the differences on this ship to a normal one that she’d slipped a little on her etiquette. “I do apologise,” she said, meaning it.
“Accepted,” he replied, also meaning it. He offered a hand. “So you’re Junior Ambassador Una? Pleased to meet you. Commander Aldair Hawle, Captain of the Loper.”
“I guessed that by the office,” she replied as she accepted the hand.
“Are you feeling up to the assignment?”
She paused for a moment before replying. “I’m… not sure,” she admitted, her left ear drooping. “I… do have questions but I’m not sure…”
Hawle extricated his hand and put it on the desk. “Would you like to sit before you ask the questions? Something to drink?” He indicated the replication machine.
“No,” she said, taking the seat, “nothing to drink.” Hawle took his seat before she continued. “I was… I was just wondering why you were selected for this? I mean, you’re not…”
He chuckled casually, his fingers steepled in front of him. “Not exactly… conventional? In the past ten years, the Council has tried to expand it’s knowledge on three occasions. Outside Celican space, outside Feline and the incident that led to the invasion here. That last wasn’t really our fault as ‘others’ had got there first, poisoning the well so they attacked us. The first two, however? Two of the biggest, toughest, ships of the line did the exploring.” His eyes brightened and he took up a rictus grin. “The results are ‘classified’ it went ‘so well’. So, this time, they’re taking a look out here with a smaller, faster, ship. They also came to the conclusion that part of the events I can’t talk about happened because the Captains clung to the rules. I don’t cling so tightly. I’m serious about what I do, you might say, but not so serious about how I do it. Has anyone given you the tour yet?”
It took Colleen’s brain a moment to work out Hawle had changed the subject and a moment more before she worked out she was supposed to respond. “Hmm, uh, no Commander.”
“For reference, it’s Captain. The commander of a military ship is called a Captain whilst on the ship, regardless of rank. It’s convenient. No-one ever asks to see the Commander when they arrive on ship. But I tend to have to say ‘Commander Hawle, Captain of the Loper’ when I talk to people of my rank up. It confuses me, too. Anyhow, I’ll have Lieutenant Commander Grovan do that shortly. It’ll take about ten minutes. Would you like to complain about your cabin now,” he asked innocently.
Despite herself, and her feelings about how small and cramped her cabin actually was, Una found herself grinning at the Captain’s ‘who, me’ innocent look. He’d quite plainly had this same discussion many a time and she wasn’t going to fall into the trap of arguing with him or, at the same time, agreeing with him. “Would there actually be a point?”
“Not really. Just look on this as a learning experience. If we get back – and haven’t fouled up every first contact we do – you’ll have bigger compartments on bigger ships to look forward to. Perhaps even your on office on one of the planets.”
IF we get back? IF we haven’t fouled it up?” Una glanced at him. “You don’t sound very confident.”
“I never go into things expecting success,” Hawle told her, “that way I’m always happy when things work out. As they always tend to. How’d you get on with our new Chef? You think he’s going to be OK?”

Cadar Kirkwall looked around his kitchen with a sense of horror and pride. Everything was installed as best it could be, he supposed, but there were none of the clean lines he was used to in this… mess. He decided that the old military word was, more or less, appropriate so he was going to use it. He had a small section of tables and chairs for those intending to ‘sit in’ and a ‘food teleporter’ for those who intended to eat in their rooms. Put the plate and food on the panel and it would send it to the room he designated on the panel. It was thought to be better than replication system stuff and, having tried the replication stuff – a standard test he had where he ordered a cheese muffin – he was pretty sure he’d be popular. The room was just so… small, though. So cramped. He didn’t know where he was going to put everything and he might need to be as multi-armed as an octopoid but the kitchen was HIS. HE commanded here – although he was a little timid as he made sure the oven turned on and ran correctly. The last thing he wanted was the oven blowing up in his face. He jumped slightly as he heard a voice behind him asking if he’d checked the microwave yet. He turned to see a Squirrel looking in at him. “Pardon,” he said, getting his heart back under control.
“I was wondering if you’d checked the Microwave yet? I’m the computer tech but I’ve never programmed an oven before.”
“Ah,” Cedar said, beckoning the youngster in, “come in and we’ll try them out. If they flame out, I’ll have someone to hand to help me get them back up and running. Then I’ll make you Coffee and a pastry or something.”
“You had me at ‘something’,” Harvey said, wandering in.
“I need to get things calibrated before we leave anyhow.”
“Ah,” the Squirrel said. “You didn’t feel the shift then? We left the station ten minutes back.”

[Amazee Dayzee]

Really do love how this chapter progressed the story! I just hope Hawle doesn't pull his facial muscles with that sort of grin which is kind of creepy.

[Welsh Halfwit]

Part 10

Foot Down

Commander Hawle stood to the fore of his bridge and clapped his hands together before turning around to where his bridge crew were assembled, including Ambassador Una. He noted how she seemed to be on the opposite side to her fellow Collian Grovan and idly wondered if something had happened when she’d been taken on her tour of the ship. Never mind, Grovan would refuse to tell him later. Now, as the screen behind him showed a forest of lights in a sheet of black, Hawle stood on the edge of the newest of frontiers. Behind them, the space of the Council. Ahead of them, then unknown expanses they were to explore, map and leave communications relays close to. Now they expected him to give some sort of speech and words to inspire. It was kind of a duty.
“The best and the brightest are always said to be the trailblazers in this sort of escapade,” he told the crew, both in person and over the comms. “They use iconic words like ‘we make these strides to understand our knowledge of the universe and the universes knowledge of ourselves’ as Reklar Kovital of Celica said when they established their first off-world colony or ‘the search for peace reaches a new frontier’ as Clover Polestana of the Lappinean said. But I, egotist that I am not, have prepared nothing for the iconic moment. I reach the edge and see more space, more planets, more dangers and more hope. We’re here to explore so let’s stop wasting time here.” He stepped to his chair and pressed a button to start the recorder. “Let these words stand eternal to the ages. Chapston, you see those stars?”
“Sir,” Chapston replied, a little unsure about how she felt about her voice saying ‘sir’ was the only thing of her that could survive a thousand years.
Hawle sat in his chair and crossed his legs. “Choose one from the list and put your foot down!” He turned the recording off and closed the commline to the ship.
“Aye, sir!” Chapston replied, tapping icons and starting the ship moving normally. She selected the destination Hawle had already told her to select and put the ship into maximum drive.

“So, we’re trying the place for lunch,” Ambassador Una said, taking her seat at the ‘Captain’s perspex table’ in the new dining area with Doctor Barleycorn, Specialist Winsome and Engineer Groal. The lady looked at the scruffily muscled Celican and wondered what he was doing at any sort of Captain’s table. “Do you have a formal suit,” she asked him before Hawle could respond to her initial question.
“I’m pretty sure I have a suit that fits somewhere,” the Engineer cut back.
“Get that checked,” Hawle ordered. “Last thing we need is for you to offend a visiting dignitary with your chest on show.”
Groal took on the defiant air of a Celican. “I’ve been complimented on my physique by many people.”
“Did you pay them,” Barleycorn asked.
Groal wiggled his eyeridges. “Quite the opposite, Night.”

“Is there a need to see menus,” Kirkwall asked nervously. He’d not exactly had time to prepare anything like a complete menu yet and the thought of setting up something like a set pub menu was something he wasn’t looking forward to. But, for now…
“Not for now, Chef Kirkwall,” Hawle told the Mouse in the tall hat. “we did put the order in twenty minutes ago, yeah?”
“Oh, I, um, know that sir,” Kirkwall replied, wringing his hands with nervousness. “I was just making sure I had time to write a menu.”
“You do,” Hawle insisted. “Harvey here can help out if needs be.”
Colleen glanced over at the youth. She’d wondered why he’d been invited. “I’m sure it’ll be good,” she remarked, having ordered Chicken Pot Pie, “but you know we need to test it, Cedar.”
“I suppose,” he flapped, “I suppose…” He got back to preparing the food and stirring Groal’s soup. Next time, he thought, breathing apparatus. He headed over to get the Cheese and Leek tart from the oven as the first alarm binged. Next would be Winsome’s Nut Souffle.

“That passed admirably,” Hawle opined, heading back up to the bridge with Una.
“Yes,” she agreed, “it seems the chef won’t be the place things go wrong on this trip.”
Hawle cast his eye towards her slyly as he pressed the button for the lift. “Was that a joke or defeatism,” he asked.
Una was about to answer but pulled herself up short as she considered something unexpected. “Do you know, I’m not quite sure?” She allowed herself to smile slightly at the thought. “I was wondering why Commanders Raven and Grovan weren’t with us?”
“Never wise to have all the Command staff eating at the same time,” Hawle told her stepping into the lift when it arrived and pressing for the bridge level. “Would you have appreciated Grovan being there?”
She sighed. “He’s not exactly in my social class, I’m afraid. Although he’s nice enough,” she added quickly.
“There’s very little class distinction on a Frigate,” Hawle replied gently. “You’ll find that, when you’re in trouble, you won’t care if it’s a Lord or a serf that helps you. And you’ll be quick to help anyone too, I fancy.”
“Well,” she said defiantly but uncertainly, “of… of course I would. It’d be only right, after all!”
“Of course. And that’s how the ship runs. And that’s all I’ll say on it,” he added as they arrived on the correct level. “Provided the job is done, I don’t care too much about the crew’s social life.”
“Liar,” Una remarked. “You care about all of them. I can see it in the twist of your ears when they talk.”
“Hmmm,” Hawle drawled, stepping out, “I’ll have to work on my Poker ears. You seem to be adjusting to the situation?”
“I have not,” Una replied, striding beside the Captain as they headed down the short passage, “but I am exceptionally good at bluffing.” She took up her seat at the back of the bridge as Hawle went to his.
“How’s things going,” Hawle asked Raven.
“Thirteen hours to first planetfall,” Raven replied.
“Why,” Hawle replied, “that’s no time at all. Get the sciences team readied, yeah?”
“That’s Lieutenant Sowaix and Ensign Goole. They’re already ready.”
Hawle huffed. “They better be. You’re leading the party to the planet if it’s not inhabited.”
Raven sighed.

[Amazee Dayzee]

Still really enjoying this story! I can't believe we are on part 10 already!

[Welsh Halfwit]

Part 11

Day Six

The sun shone through green-tinted skies onto Yellow-brown trees that wavered in a moderate wind, shaking blue leaves that fluttered to the ground slowly, to land on the dark brown trails through their numbers. Further down the slope, the trees gave way to an oasis of light green grasses and, beyond that, a stained blue river proudly cleaved it’s way through to the out of sight sea. And, Sarina Raven noted, as she scanned the sky, it hadn’t got above ten degrees Centigrade since they’d arrived. It meant nothing except, perhaps, that the planet was in early Spring, but it did mean that Raven was kind of happy to stay in the light environment suit for now. The Loper had scanalysed the atmosphere to make sure it was breathable before Raven, a pair of guards and Zowaix and Goole from the ship’s small science department, came down. Zowaix had advised that they keep the suits on, even though the air was breathable, as there could be anything down here. Raven had to agree. Everything looked nice and peaceable. So why were there no colonies here?

The powerful Burman walked from the riverside back to the shuttle, being careful not to tread on any Butterflies or whatever passed for them on this world. The group had been here for six hours already, making scans and taking samples of the land, the grass, the trees and here she was, returning with a small capsule of water for the analysis machine the scientists had stuffed into the rear section of the shuttle. It was, she supposed, quite serene and beautiful down here but she was already feeling a little bit restless as she closed the airlock behind her and the slight variance in gravities was adjusted to ship normal. The Brockan Zowaix yawned and turned his head to her as she wiped down the outside of the container with an antiseptic wipe. “Ah,” he said languidly, “excellent. Put it over there with the other samples. I’ll get to it in a moment.

Raven entered the room and put the sealed tube in a holder next to the various flora samples the group had collected. She removed her helmet and enjoyed the slight push of the air conditioning on her fur. The suits ability to never rise in temperature never really felt the same as a little wind in her mind so the first moment after taking the thing off was always spent in enjoyment. But it always passed. “Any theories why this world hasn’t been colonized,” she asked the Lieutenant.
He sagged his shoulders before picking them back up and revolving his chair towards her, taking his face away from the computer screen he’d been working at. “Not as of yet, Commander,” he replied sharply. “I’m only in the initial stages of research on the lifeforms of this world. For all we know, the life here might be sentient Flora… although,” he added, raising his voice so that his assistant, the Mican Goole, could have no doubt he was being talked about, “we should hope not as someone saw fit to decapitate several of them for study!”
“I SAID I was sorry,” the Mican called back from the other tiny lab.
“It’s like he’s never SEEN any science fiction,” Zowaix grumbled. “Honestly, Commander, the definition of life is so infinitely variable that it’s a miracle sentience developed on so many planets in the universe.”
Raven smirked slightly. “You don’t sound much like the miracle type, Lieutenant.”
“Miracles are the principle domain of deities, Commander,” Zowaix said, turning back to his computer. “In this universe of so many religions and deities, it’s hard to take any of them too seriously.” he stopped for a second. “Although I don’t dismiss any of them out of hand, of course. You can’t with unknowable answers.”
“There are probably some you can dismiss,” Raven countered, taking up the other seat.
Zowaix huffed, closed his eyes, and thought for a moment. “Have you ever heard of the belief some Humans have that God is a spaceman? Came to Earth thousands of their years ago, perhaps, and they interpreted that in a specific way that seemed sane to them?”
Raven nodded once. She thought Sarah had mentioned it once. “I suppose. It seemed stupid at the time but…”
“It seemed stupid because it runs contrary to the ideals and ideologies we’re brought up with, Commander but… and here’s a question for you…” He paused, waiting for her to prompt.
“Yes..?”
“What if they’re right? Think on it. Why do so many of our races have an equivalence in the ranks of Earth animals? So many of their four legged, minimal brained, creatures are sitting around tables on that ship up there, working on plans, cross breeding and having lunch. What if, in some stage back in Earth’s history, before they fully diverged from their origin, some high tech, space faring race DID come visit the planet and took samples of not just the Flora but the Fauna and seeded other worlds with them after altering them to ensure their survival? There’s no way to prove it didn’t happen, Commander, and it’s no less plausible than any other.” He shrugged. “Although, of course, it could also be that the great Celican god Celador chose Earth as an experimental planet and did a whacked out job of it. It’s faith. You can never tell with faith because, as soon as you DO know, it’s not faith but belief. And belief is often contrary to the fact and Science is the pursuit of fact.”
“I’m beginning to wish I hadn’t said anything now.”
“So am I,” called a voice from the back.
“Ah,” Zowaix said, waving the complaint away, “I’m just saying things take time is all. Look at this grass, Commander.” He pushed himself back so Raven could look clearly at the sample the monitor was showing. She could see it looked… rather like normal grass. Long, thin, reedy… The Lieutenant closed the picture in, magnifying the sample.
“Ah,” Raven said, noting the barbs all along the shaft. “those look a bit sharp.”
“Indeed they do,” the Brockian confirmed. “From what I can see, the channels there are designed to draw fluids from those spines into the body of the plant itself. It’s too small to do any damage to us, of course, but, if something the size of, say, an aphid, were to brush against these? I can see it drinking in the spilled blood for nutrients. Some of the decapitated flowers show signs of insect life, although we’ve seen nothing like complex life yet.”

He winced as Raven’s comm beeped and the Burman answered. “Yes?”
<”Ensign Hav here, Commander.”>
She checked the small map on the wall to work out where Hav was. A half mile west, near a hill and a bend in the river. “What’s the situation, Hav?”
<”I’ve found something, Commander.”>
“Do NOT interfere with it, Ensign,” Zowaix shouted, making Raven wince.
<”I’m more worried about being played WITH, Sir,”> the guard said. <”I’ve found bones.”>

[Amazee Dayzee]

Now we are on day six! Hanging out with these guys is really a great time!

[Welsh Halfwit]

Part 12

Hav Hope, Will Travel.

Ensign Hav tried to master his breathing as he waited for the Commander and the Lieutenant to join him. It helped him master his unusual senses to a level that, perhaps, either his mother or Father would be proud of. The Diminutive crossbreed kept his eyes darting from place to place, looking for any assault and using what he could of both his heritages. He’d never felt entirely lucky in his breeding, being unlucky enough to be a true 50/50. It wouldn’t be so bad except his dad was a Wolf and his mother was a Mican. He was whitefurred with a tapered Wolf muzzle, wolf Canines and Mican incisors and pointed ears to the side of his head. He was slender, with a whispy white fur tail and Mican height, which always caused problems when it came to getting suits made. This environment suit was an awkward fit, pulling in places no-one wanted anything to pull and being baggy in other points. He trained his ears and wished he could twist his ears in the suit – or, in fact, at all. He had to turn his entire head to see what was around him.

And what was around him right now was bones. Sets of bones over the lip of the hill he’d been climbing, stretching down to the riverside. He’d thought about moving them, taking a few back to the shuttle but had decided against it as soon as the Badger had threatened his life if he did so. So the small WolfMouse heard the Brockian and the Burman striding up the slope behind him and turned towards them, where the Commander was hauling a large computer bank on her shoulder.
“I’ll bet the fool has trampled over the artefacts,” the Lieutenant complained, making Hav wonder how he’d taste. But not even his father encouraged engaging Brockians so he put the thought away.
“I haven’t moved a muscle, ‘professor’,” Hav remarked testily, accentuating the last word to remind the Lieutenant that he wasn’t, in fact, an academic of that calibre. “And I found it just like this,” he said, sweeping an arm before him.
“Good grief,” Zowaix breathed, “there must be at least thirty sets here, perfectly preserved.”
Raven scanned the scene with her eyes. There was something about the clean bones that didn’t seem right to her. And then it struck her. The bones were clean. And intact. “Choose a set and get all the readings and samples you can, Lieutenant. Do it quickly.”
The Brockian was about to argue but, seeing her intent face through the visor, he thought again. “Yes, yes,” he supposed. “They’ve not been here long, have they?”
“How can you tell,” Hav asked as Zowaix knelt by the nearest set of remains and started taking scans.
“The bones are clean,” the Lieutenant replied. “They’ve been cleaned and it’s not by the weather. We passed a storm on our way in so we can tell things about the climate here. These bones,” he said, pointing to, and almost touching, the top of the closest pile, “show no signs of weathering. Despite being right out in the open and near a water source. Ergo they’ve not been here long. Which indicates someone put them here, Ensign.”
“I’ve had the feeling we weren’t alone here,” Hav replied.
“Yes, well, graveyards often do play on the paranoia of the supernatural.” Now the scientist actively picked up a bone and, frowning, ran it across the scanner.
“Thought we weren’t to touch anything,” Raven asked.
“No, I said YOU weren’t to touch anything. I’m quite competent to do so. And this may indicate the situation has changed.” He put the bone back, stood up again and stepped to the computer Raven had hauled up. “Look at these,” he added, bringing up the pictures of the bone he’d picked up. The 3D view spun the bone around slowly, showing it’s length and width and density. “Note those marks,” he said, pointing to long trenches across the bone. “They look rather like teeth marks to me, wouldn’t you say?”
“Do you really want my opinion?”
“I always want other’s opinions,” Zowaix declared. “Of course, I only listen to mine but it’s always good to hear what others think. I need to find another bone from a different set to make sure this isn’t part of their physiology.” He made his way further into the field to select a pile at random and analyse it.

“Permission to start heading back to the shuttle, Sir,” Hav asked, trying not to sound nervous and probably failing.
Raven looked at him languidly. She’d never really concerned herself with certain things before but, now, she was wondering why the odd-looking Mican cross had gone into the security business. She knew many of them had gone on to be professional soldiers – indeed, almost a third of their population was in the security services somewhere – but this one seemed more comfortable around machines. Probably family pressure, she reckoned. “Stay here. Stay on alert and be ready to lead the way back as soon as I tell you. I’ll call Pulver to head back to the shuttle if she can.”
Hav cursed his luck. He made the suggestion and she got the call back to safety? How was THAT fair? He contented himself by taking a few steps back towards the ship. “That storm’s headed this way,” he warned, making Raven turn to confirm that the clouds they’d passed over on their way in were, indeed, getting larger and closer.
<”Goole to Commander Raven,”> the comm chirped.
The Commander cursed under her breath. She was almost certain she’d forget to make the call to Pulver after this. “Go ahead, Goole,” she told the junior scientist.
<”Well, I’ve, uh, finished the analysis of the climate and weather systems I was running, Commander. To see if we could breach the atmospheric interference…>”
“I remember assigning you the task, Ensign. Now,” she stressed as the Lieutenant walked up behind them, “what did you find?”
<”Well,”> he replied, <”It’s all normal except for the fact that everything seems designed to counteract large amounts of acid. I think that’s in the rain. Leaving is kind of advisable in my opinion, what with the storm and all.”>
“Yes, confirmed. We’ll be back shortly.” She cut the link and called to Zowaix, who flinched as he was standing next to her. “Sorry,” she said. “We need to go. A Sulphuric Acid rain storm’s coming in.”
“There’s more,” the Brock said. “The bones are, indeed, bitten. Some have been chewed extensively and recently. After the last storm.”
“Time to go,” Raven said, sending a ‘return’ message to Pulver before picking up the computer. She looked at the heavy set Zowaix. He’d slowed her down on the way up the hill. He wasn’t built for speed. “Hav, could you..?”
“Pardon,” Zowaix remarked before, in a show of strength that belied his size, Hav picked the scientist up and put him over his shoulder so he could run for the shuttle alongside Raven.

That storm was coming in fast.

[Amazee Dayzee]

This was just a marvelous chapter! Awesome work!

[Welsh Halfwit]

Time for some violence.

Part 13

Battle One

Security Officer Pulver looked around her. She’d been following the river in the opposite direction to the others and had found little to prime her senses but there was… something. She could feel it. It prickled her fur as she’d been following the river. Something about how the ripples of movement in the river hadn’t seemed like rocks but had seemed… alive. She figured it as new planet nerves and pushed it from her mind. She picked up a piece of purple wood from the ground and looked it over. It wasn’t wood. She could see that now she was holding it. The scars in its’ brittle exterior matched the trees and it had definitely fallen from the trees around her but it certainly wasn’t what she’s take as wood. It was too heavy for one thing.

The call from Commander Raven came through and she turned to head back. Something caught her attention and she looked around. She couldn’t see anything but something told the Lappinean something was wrong and she picked up speed.

A few minutes of running and she was in the field with the shuttle and pumping towards it as the Feline, Goole, called to her. No, wait, he was calling past her. Or, at least, he was looking that way. She didn’t want to look behind her. It would slow her down. At the other end of the field she could see The Commander and Hav running towards the shuttle but the Commander was angling slightly towards her now, visually ordering Hav to get the Lieutenant he was carrying to the ship. She’d often admired his strength but she could run faster and harder. She just wondered how fast the thing behind her could run.

Raven could see it sliding across the ground, undulating like a snake of enormous proportions through the grass. It dropped no speed as it pulled what she took to be it’s head up and opened the front to reveal an unpleasant number of teeth and something that looked like a tongue that lashed out at Pulver and would have connected if Raven hadn’t shot the tongue with her blaster. The tongue stayed intact, despite the setting, but it definitely got the creature’s attention, knocking it’s aim off. It raised its tail as it turned towards Raven and shot a barb from it that struck Pulver straight in the back, knocking her forward and down to the ground as it moved towards the new threat. Raven cycled up the power and fired again, striking the creature direct to the face. It reared, but kept on coming, using it’s bodyweight to push itself forward as Hav made it to the shuttle and dumped the Lieutenant inside so he could enter the combat. He cycled up his weapon and moved to a different angle before giving the thing a second target.

“Still nothing from the away group,” Dawton commented from the Communications station.
“They have twelve hours before they’re supposed to report in, ensign,” Hawle replied, keeping his tone bone dry. “They have the emergency booster if they need to call us. Keep it calm. Raven’s one of the best.”
“Just wish we could figure out why we can’t scan the surface properly,” the comms officer replied.
“I hear that,” Hawle replied. “Take us in a little closer, Chappers,” he ordered. “Just in case.”
“Aye, Captain,” the Human replied, engaging the engines to take the ship into a slightly lower orbit.
Hawle pondered the problem. The lack of communication wasn’t all of it as the shuttle had landed safely, they could just about make it out with the main viewer scrolled to maximum magnification but the scanners couldn’t detect anything about the planet beyond the fact that it existed. Something must be putting out an interference pattern on a different frequency to the usual but Dawton had been having no luck isolating it or, indeed, working out where it was coming from. Five people was the minimum requirement for such a scientific trip and he’d agreed with the Lieutenant that that was a good number to minimize interference. He was regretting it. But Raven still had an hour or so to report in. He had to give her that time.

Hav dove sideways as a barb speared the air where he’d been standing. In a quieter moment, Hav would be thinking about where this creature was producing these things from but, for now, he was concentrating more on staying alive as Goole made to get Pulver to safety as the guard tried to pull herself towards the vessel. She was trailing a lot of blood, he could tell, trailing it over the grass as she went. The creature tried to decide which was the greater target and the greatest danger. It lashed its tongue out towards Goole and it impacted on his chest. Hay fired directly on the tongue as it tried to pull the Feline towards it with the power of it’s adhesive tongue. His shot struck the elongated appendage and started to cut through it as Raven had the same idea. It screeched audibly for the first time as the tongue snapped in two, dropping Goole backwards as the creature turned in anger towards Hav. Goole pulled Pulver towards the ship and Zowaix joined him, helping shift her weight as the thing hurtled towards Raven. Hav made a decision and pulled his remaining power cartridge from his pack, primed it to overload and hurled it at the thing, just avoiding another barb.

“I’m… getting something,” Dawton commented, frowning as he listened to something on the communications system. “It’s running on an obsolete channel that we don’t… usually scan so I’m having trouble locking onto it but… I have it.”
“Put it on,” Hawle ordered.
The Human complied and a scratchy, automated, message in a language Hawle had never heard before played over audio. “Set the computer to translate,” he told Dawton, who’d already done that anyway. It took the computer a few minutes to work the language but eventually it came out with <This world. Holy. Not permitted land here. Protected.> on a repeating loop.
“Well, within the automobile,” Hawle said. “Prep the other shuttle, we’ll go get them back.”
“Aye, sir,” Dawton replied, before signalling the flight deck.

Hav was doing the running now, away from the enraged creature and the shuttle as the creature chose to come for him. He hoped it would give the Commander a chance to get to the… He was thrown forward by the explosion as the shuttle’s weapons fired, point blank, at the creature and scored a direct hit, blasting the creature into three parts that finally killed it as the rain began to fall. Hav dusted himself off and trying not to vomit into his suit, stumbled back to the shuttle as the suit began to fizz.

Inside the ship, Raven was already pulling the nearly comatose Pulver from the pilot’s seat and Hav took over aiding Goole on first aid duties as Raven sat in the blood soaked seat and started fast take-off procedures. “One all,” Pulver said.
“No dying on me, Rabbit,” Goole remarked. “I have a one hundred percent success rate.” Neither scientist chose to remark that that had only been with a minor injury.

[Amazee Dayzee]

Really great work! You are definitely an all-star at this!

[Welsh Halfwit]

Part 14

Operation.

Doctor Barleycorn got busy preparing, clearing out the minor, day to day, injuries and readying the operation table for the incoming wounded. She had her nurse tie up her surgical apron from behind and put her gloves on before donning her protective visor.
“Do you want me to scrub up,” the young Raitchian Doctor she’d been landed with asked.
“Why,” she answered dismissively, “you’re not assisting.” The hurt face on the youngster – and the not so subtle tug on the backstraps by her nurse – told Barleycorn she might have been too harsh again. “There are two Doctors on this ship,” she explained more kindly, “you and me. It means that I have you to cover for me whilst I’m carrying out this operation, got it? I’ll trust you to run the analysis machines but, if a patient comes in..?”
“I go to them,” Doctor Bazil Fuze nodded. He supposed it was a sign of trust. Either that or a sign of no choice as Pulver was taken in and through to the operation table.

Barleycorn hadn’t wanted to try the teleporter to bring Pulver aboard due to the unknown nature of the barb in her back, the blood loss it had caused and the pathogens it contained. She’d heard of teleporters doing nasty things with unknown biologics. So a medic team had been ready as the shuttle and trolleyed her out at full speed.
“On three,” Barleycorn instructed. “On the table, face down please.”
“Face down,” the medic queried.
“The barb’s in her back, mate, I’m not getting it out the front way, am I?”
As she insisted, the patient was laid face down on the table and Barleycorn set to work on the preliminary stages of the operation, connecting Pulver up to the machines and bloods. She hoped they were in time.

“What happened,” Hawle asked Raven, sitting, cross legged, in her quarters.
“Big snake with teeth tried to eat us,” Raven called from the bedroom, where she was getting changed.
“That’s succinct.”
“Put it another way,” the Burman added tersely, “on a planet where we detected no life forms whatsoever on our scans, we ran across a mass grave and one of the creatures that probably filled it! We were lucky to get out of there alive!”
“Can’t argue with that,” Hawle replied. “But you DID all get back. And it’s you they have to thank for that. You and Crewman Hav.”
“I want him commended for bravery,” Raven stated, throwing her tired shirt across the doorway, into a laundry basket.
“Put the details in your report,” Hawle instructed. “Then I can file the request for when we get back.”
“Done.”
Hawle chuckled. “The usual way? Tell Harvey what happened and let him write it so it’s readable?”
“I always miss stuff out.” She came from the bedroom and sat opposite Hawle on the sofa. “I can’t help thinking it’s on me.”
Hawle sat back and uncrossed his legs. “Well, it IS on you. But that’s not for the first time, Sarine. What’s different this time?”
She leaned forward and intertwined her fingers. “There was just… no sign,” she explained. “No sign, then it was on us.”

Jaqui Pangal found herself in sickbay and Doctor Fuze intercepted her before she got too close to the operating table. “You’re Chief Pangal, right,” he asked.
“I am,” the Lappinean replied quickly. “How is she?”
Fuze sighed. “Still fighting,” he said hopefully. “Look at this.” He took Pangal aside to where he’d been scanning the barb, a piece of bone some three inches wide and ten long from base to tip, with a set of small hooks peppered along the surface. “It hit right to her spine, I’m afraid,” he confessed. “Then it injected some sort of paralysing pathogen. To stop the prey running, I suppose. That part’s dissipated but it’s still done massive damage to her spine.”
“Is she going to be able to walk,” Pangal asked.
“There’s a chance,” Fuze admitted, “but I really doubt it. And we don’t have the facilities here to make up an exo-rig. You’ll need to find something for her to do that can take a chair…”
“Not great on bedside manner, are you?” Jaqui sagged. “At least you didn’t add ‘if she makes it’”
Fuze was quite glad she’d interrupted.

“Can’t we go find the people who left that beacon and ask them for help or something,” Hav asked of Zowaix as the Lieutenant catalogued the finds, including the stick Pulver had been gripping tightly. News had filtered through of the operation and how it was going and, just like Raven, the guard was blaming himself and looking for ways out.
The Brockian rolled his eyes and put the stick down. “If we knew where they were from, we might be able to do so,” he conceded. “That planet, though, caused enough ruckus with scanners and sensors that only an ancient, obsolete, radio system could penetrate. And, although I understand your thoughts and intents, we, apparently, blew up a creature they consider holy in a place they consider sacred and that my compatriot brought a piece of it back with us – which is why he and it are in the decontamination room.” He looked at the frustrated guard. “It might not go very well.”
“We were defending ourselves.”
“And they left a warning message telling us not to go down there. How would they know we’d not hear it?” Zowaix huffed. “First contacts are minefields, my little… How DO you self identify? Mican or Wolf?”
“If pressed,” Hav replied irritably, “either will do. But ‘Wocan’s also a favourite and far more personal.”
“Very well. First contact’s are minefields, my young Wocan. We stepped on one and made a mess. Best if they don’t find out, hmm?”
Hav slumped. “Depends who you ask, Doc.”
“Don’t call me ‘Doc’.”
“O.K., sweetie,” Hav joked weakly.
“Go away. I’ve got work to do.”

Hawle was back on the bridge two hours later when Barleycorn reported the end of the operation. The report stated that Pulver would survive but, as Fuze had surmised, she was never walking by herself again. Hawle just hoped the information they’d gained was worth it. He decided probably not. “Getting anything from the direction of KT1875,” he asked the comms officer, regarding their next destination.
“Nothing yet, sir,” the Human replied. “But I’m listening on every frequency I can find.”
“Good oh,” Hawle said, faking enthusiasm for now. “Chapston, take that course you’ve already plotted and put us on it.”

[Amazee Dayzee]

Loving how this chapter came out just like I loved how the other chapters had come out! Beautiful job!

[Welsh Halfwit]

Time for a beer.

Part 15

Starwheel.

Even on a relatively small ship like the Loper, a Starwheel bar operates, providing alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks to the people aboard, primarily the pilots. There were reasons for this, despite the security problems that always occurred when pilots and alcohol mixed too freely and most of it came down to the fact that alcohol in the pilot’s quarters was banned and, if they had no access to legal liquor, some of them would just make their own. Bootleg drink had killed and incapacitated many over the years so the Starwheel’s kept the cap on. Even then the pilot’s had to log in so the system could tell if they were due on shift in the next eight hours, in which case they could only have non-alcoholic drinks or very low alcohol ones. It also cut off the daily supply to a person after four units had been supplied.

It was still a party place, though, and music played in the background as Maze sampled her Hard cider and conversed with a couple of her other pilots and the engineer, Groal. Of course, there was one obvious subject of discussion. “Is she going to be O.K.,” the blonde Raitchian asked simply, talking of the wounded guard.
“Probably not,” Groal replied, tasting his Bluudjuce as he contemplated the dead meat sandwich thing the barkeep had rustled up from the machine. “The Doc says she’s paralysed from the waist down and…” He sniffed the sandwich curiously, “we don’t have a rig available. What IS this thing?”
Maze took the sandwich, tasted it and handed it back. “Beef,” she said. “Human meat… Not from them but from their planet. Haven’t you tried it before?”
“Not really.” Groal allowed himself to try the thing once Maze gave it back, uncaring of the fact she’d just taken a bite out of it. “They asked if I could fabricate a rig but we don’t have supplies spare for that. I COULD do it but I can’t guarantee we won’t need those supplies for repair.”
“I remember,” one of the other pilots said, “when it was explorer ships we sent out on these sorts of runs. Whacking great things like the Keelavar or the Fauntleroy. Able to hold thousands and equipped with everything needed for long trips, including industrial scale replication machines.”
“That’s your last, Yantie,” Maze warned. “You’re getting maudlin. Budget cuts hit everyone. Just look at test pilots.” She half grinned. “WE have to do the last tests in the field!”
“What’s so special about yours,” Groal asked, eyeridge raised.
Maze tried hard to look nonchalant but failed to hide a certain smirk as she took another quaff of drink. “It’s designed to operate in as many environments as possible. Above the atmosphere, in the atmosphere…” She paused, wondering if he’d catch the hint.
Eventually, he did and his eyes widened slightly. “UNDER the atmosphere,” he said, slightly too loudly. “Your…” He looked around, noted people looking at him and lowered his tone. “Your ship can operate underwater?”
She nodded regally. “Yup. It seals completely so they simply had to design a hydro propulsion system and a way for the guns to fire underwater.” She shrugged. “They think they’ve done it.”
“It’d also be needing to cope with the pressure underwater,” Groal added. “So it’s probably got thicker armour than normal and… Any chance I can look at the specs?”
Maze chuckled. “Not officially, as you’re not cleared by Monta Weapontech or Fawren Spaceways. But there are ways that…” She turned around and pointed at a Canine. “Lowa, you’re on duty in seven hours. If you TOUCH that Skyblaster, I will personally make sure you can’t fly tomorrow by nailing your foot to the floor!”
“It’s alright, Wing,” the Canine protested, “I’ve got detox tablets.”
Maze stood up as the other pilot on her table face palmed at the Canine’s words. Maze stepped over casually and slammed her hands down on the table. “You. Have. WHAT?”

“He’s going to notice,” Raven worried to Hawle as Grovan headed off towards the replication machines for his lunch.
Hawle conspiratorially whispered back over the two teas mounted on the armrests, with a vending packet of Custard Cream biscuits between them. “We’ve set the replicators to ident his voice and make all his crockery bright green with the logo of ‘Loper’s best 2nd officer’ on his mug. I really HOPE he’ll notice. The question is,” the Lappinean added, “what will his reaction be?”
“He probably won’t react,” Chapston cut in. “You know him.”
“Chappers,” Hawle mock complained, “don’t you know it’s rude to interrupt senior officers who are talking behind your back?”
Chapston chuckled slightly towards her control panel, not turning towards the Captain. “Sorry, sir, did you say something? I wasn’t listening to you talking behind my back.”
“Pass me a biscuit, Raven; I need to throw it at my helm officer.”
“Can’t do that, sir,” Raven said, dunking the biscuit in her tea and swallowing it. “Just ‘ad th’ last wun.”
“Weren’t there three in that pack,” Hawle asked. Raven shook her head.
“I’m the Captain,” Hawle protested, “I’m supposed to get the two biscuits and you the one…” He crossed his arms for effect, then uncrossed them so he could pick up his tea.

Maze strode into Pangal’s office and put a small bag of tablets onto her table. “Found these… around,” she declared.
Pangal looked over the tablets. “Ah,” she said, “anti-intoxicants. Real or fake?”
“I have no idea where the floor got them from,” Maze insisted. “But I found them after the floor had been mopped so there won’t be any prints on them.”
Pangal looked up at the Rat with an amused look. “Ri-ight.” She held the bag up. “You know the dangers of fakes, right? The best’ll do nothing but the worst can kill or cause hallucinations. Only the medical are allowed to give them out. I’ll have to do an intensive search of the Pilot’s areas and their rooms. It’ll need to be a surprise inspection, of course. Shall we say in two hours? Should give the tablets enough time to relocate to the corridors, shouldn’t it?”
Maze nodded tersely. “I won’t go and warn them now.” She strode back out of the office.
“This,” Jaqui told the empty room as she played with a pen, “is their one warning shot.”

[Amazee Dayzee]

I really do love to read this! You are doing great work!

[Welsh Halfwit]

In the day between writing that last part and this, an idea occurred that turned a comment in that part into foreshadowing...

Part 16

Night-time

The room was dark, almost as dark as could be. It was only lit by the blue glow from the working machinery systems and the dull red of the safety bulbs that ran along the join of wall and floor. The only sound was the faint sound of rhythmic breathing. And then a comm unit broke into both aspects of sense. It lit up the room in a faint yellow haze as the comms officer at the other end spoke. <”Ensign Travis to Commander Hawle,”> it said, repeating the comment the Ensign would have made to the computer on pressing his button so it knew where to connect him.
Hawle reached out a pyjama clad arm from his bed, felt around on the side unit as he hadn’t opened his eyes, and brought the comm over to the rest of him. He pressed the button. “H’wl ‘ere,” he drawled, half into the pillow, “Wussup?”
<”Sorry to wake you, sir,”> the voice said, <”but we’re picking up a distress call at long range.”>
Hawle sat up and looked at his clock. 0230. He’d forgotten there was a two thirty in the morning. . “You’re sure it’s a distress call? Not just…” he ran things through his tired brain for an example. “Someone making a call home to mum?”
<”We’re sure, sir,”>
“I’ll be right there.”

Three minutes later, Hawle walked on to the command deck, his captain’s insignia present on the shoulders of the dressing gown he was wearing atop his pyjamas. He took his seat and crossed his legs, showing off the fleecy slippers he was wearing to complete the look. “Full details, please,” he asked Travis, the night shift officer in charge.
“Well, sir,” the Mican began, “we started receiving the automated signal some ten minutes ago and…”
“The computer translated the language that quickly,” Hawle interrupted. “Give that computer some silicone chips.”
“It, er, didn’t translate it, sir,” the Mican apologised. “As I was going to say, it identified it,” Travis protested. “as belonging to a Council ship.”
Hawle sat up and tapped away at his arm rest panel. “We’re the first Council ship supposed to be out here,” he said warningly. “If you’ve…” He stopped as the computer brought up the reading and logs. “Ident confirmed,” he said. “U.S.C. Bellaphron.” He frowned, pulling his head back slightly. “Bellaphron? I know that name.” He tapped in the ship name and found a request to enter a command code. “So this is why you called me, eh,” he said in a put on accent, “you don’ want me, y’ want my passcode!”
“It IS the only way to access the code, sir,” Travis protested.
“Huh. Tell Winsome that,” Hawle mused, entering his command code. “Interesting,” he said, “I’m the only one on the ship allowed access to this file. Are we heading for the source, by the way.”
“No, sir, I thought you should…”
“...approve the course change? Absolutely correct. So authorised, Helm. Head towards the signal and get us a warning about where it’s coming from. Afraid I have to read this in private, Travis, so I’ll transfer it to my room and read it there. Then I’ll decide who to inform.” He sent the instructions through the screen as the helm officer slowed the ship to normal space and turned five degrees to port before engaging the main drive again.

Two hours later he had a very grumpy lot of senior officers and an Ambassador in the conference room. He’d spent most of the last two hours waking himself up after reading the report. Then he’d gotten dressed and sent out the signal for the dirt early meeting. “Sorry to get you all up so early,” he said, activating the holo display, “but we have something of a situation.”

The image of a ship appeared above the middle of the table. A slender, mile long rectangular beast with nacelles and tapered ‘wings’ to the sides for weapons and shuttles. “The...<yawn> Bellaphron,” Grovan questioned.
“Give that man a breakfast burrito,” Hawle said. “Launched twenty years ago. Explorer class, over five hundred crew, room to shift an entire colony of people – small colony, admittedly but, still… Self sufficient for years and designed to do exactly what we’re doing now on a greater scale. In fact she was built for it. And now I see you simply read the name off the image, Harper,” he added, waving a finger towards the Collian. “Back when they put some budget into these escapades, she was sent on a five year mission of exploration beyond the Mican systems.”
“The other side of Council space,” Ambassador Una cut in. “What does it have to do with a
four o’clock wake up call?” She looked like she’d been ready for this all night to Hawle’s eyes. He’d called them a half hour ago and unlike the others, who had the decency to look like they hadn’t showered and had bad bed headfur, she was immaculate and preened. He wondered how she’d done it. But that was for later.
“She was supposed to be out there five years,” Hawle repeated. “She had all the latest stuff for the day. Cobal Industries Mark IV Warpspace drives, Holosuites, industrial replication machines, Four entire squadrons of Starlancer 4’s…” He put his hands up. “And she was never heard from again. Ten years ago, the ship was considered lost with all hands” He turned on the audio recording from the comms system. “Just over two hours ago, we started hearing this distress call.”
The voice came through, shrouded by static and distortion. <”...d...ess call… U.S.C. B...aph...on,”> it said, <”ex...sion...g..ne r..m. Lo..ng L.fe s..port sy..ems… This iz ...d...ess call U.S.C. B...aph...on...”> Hawle cut the line. “Codes confirm it’s her. It’s travelling on a narrow band so it’s probably been aimed towards Council space but it doesn’t have the power to get there. According to the helm, we’re about two days away from visual range but I want you lot to start your planning and preparations NOW – or as soon as possible. Groal, we need to know what equipment you have spare that can be used on that class of ship. Night,” he continued, turning to Barleycorn, “if we find any survivors on the ship or on nearby planets they’ll need medical assistance. Jaqui, get used to the schematics. If that ship’s still there, you’ll be taking the search squads over there. A ship is ten years dead and over one hundred thousand light years off course. The hows and whys are important here.”
“And why am I here,” Una asked.
“Diplomacy may very well be called for, Colleen,” Hawle admitted with a cringe.
“With another U.S.C. ship?”
“I change my command style for no-one,” Hawle admitted.
“Which means,” Raven continued, “that the high ranking, best of the best type, Captain from fifteen years ago isn’t going to accept HIM as a Command Officer.”
“They’re very straight-laced,” Hawle admitted, gesturing a shrug with his hands. “But that icon,” he added, pointing to her Ambassador corps lapel badge, “hasn’t changed in a century.”
“I’m your proof,” she asked, the ridge of fur above her left eye raised.
“Yup. And off you people go. Set things in motion and get some kip. Raven, brief Wing Leader Maze on the situation in the morning. Being prepared for anything, she might want to run her eye over the Mark 4 stats.”
“You think they might fight,” Una asked incredulously.
“I think they’ve been out here almost two decades. There’s no telling how feral they’ve gone. Dismissed.” He sent them from the room.

[Amazee Dayzee]

Hawle certainly loves to give things and people food as prizes for guessing something correctly. xD Great job on this chapter!

[Welsh Halfwit]

Part 17

A short scene in the Galley.

Una sat in Kirkwall’s restaurant and examined her padd as the chef bustled about, preparing a handful of basic meals for the few people in attendance at two in the afternoon. The Ambassador herself had an Omelette on the way but she’d told Cedar that he didn’t need to hurry with hers so she was quite prepared to be the last he served. Of course, it was also her plan as she found she wanted to talk with someone about the situation and Ladies of her station did NOT bend the ears of barkeeps. Nor was there a counsellor on board so that was out. A chef would have to do.

Kirkwall, for his part, was rather looking forward to putting his feet up. He’d had a slight but constant trail of people through the doors since noon and a Nut Roast Coffee was beginning to prey on his mind right now. He plated up a Canine Gvosh for a Feline and handed it over before accepting payment via a scan. “Thank you and come again,” he said as the Feline headed over to a corner table and sat with his back to the door so people couldn’t see what he was eating. Kirkwall set himself to cooking up the Omelette whilst his Coffee brewed and he cleaned the desk whilst he waited before plating up and taking the food, fillings and beverages over to the table. “Your food, madame,” he said, placing the plate in front of her.
“You recalled I like to fill the thing myself,” she said appreciatively, adding some of the odd assortment of candies and mini fruit chunks to the middle of the meal.
“So no-one knows everything about your meal,” Kirkwall finished with a smile. He remembered her telling him that on their trip to Talvary station
“I have gotten over it,” she finished, “but I appreciate the reminders of youth and home from time to time.” She took a forkful as Kirkwall offered Coffee. She nodded and he poured hers first before bringing over some milk and brown sugar for her to help herself.
“What brings you to my tables for the afternoon,” Kirkwall enquired, “and has you looking so… intrigued?”
The Ambassador glanced around as though to make sure the Feline couldn’t hear and leaned closer. “We’ve got an interesting one,” she confided. “I’m researching the crew of a ship that’s considered long dead because we’ve picked up an impossible distress call from them. A ‘lost ship’,” she enthused. “and the Captain… Commander… whatever, needs my help to understand these people! How they think. How they might react to him! It’s…” She chuckled. “It’s an awesome thing, I think!”
Despite his hoping to be impartial and uninterested, Kirkwall was intrigued. The art of exploration called to a number of Micans greater than most other races in known space so this was quite something. “Who knows where they’ve been, what they’ve seen, how the heck they got here…”
“How they got here,” Kirkwall queried. “How do you..?”
“Mmph,” Una grunted, caught with a mouthful of food. She swallowed before replying. “It wasn’t a ship that was supposed to be out here. It was supposed to be past Mican space and…”
Kirkwall’s face dropped and he almost looked awed. “The Bellaphron,” he asked.
Una grimaced. “I’m not sure I should have told you that,” she confessed.
He shrugged. “Who would I tell? I could help you a bit on that, you know?”
“How so? Did you know someone on board?”
Cedar chuckled. “I’m a Mican. We’re second only to Lappineans in one or two respects and there were over five hundred permanent officers on that ship. Whaddya think?” He raised his arms and spread them wide whilst grinning.
Colleen tried to hide the brightness in her eyes as she shook her head slightly. “Hah. There is that, isn’t there? Who was it?”
“A Junior Lieutenant in Engineering,” he replied. “He sent a few messages before it all went quiet, y’know? He talked of how the second in command, a Canine called Dably, was trying – and failing – to learn as many of the crews’ names as he could and how the engines were holding up and…”
“...What about the Captain,” Una interrupted.
“Trying to think,” the Mican replied, tapping the table. “It was a long time back. I mean, I kept the messages and looked up what I could in the years afterward but… I don’t think Uncle Govan ever met him. I think he once mentioned the fact that he never met him. Make of that what you will.”
She sighed politely. “Tallies with what’s listed here, I suppose,” she said, gesturing with the padd before taking another forkful of food. “Career Officer, dedicated. Rose quickly through the ranks and all of that.”
Kirkwall grunted. “I remember. I’ve seen three documentaries on the mystery of the ship. Fell asleep every time it came to the in depth analysis of his career. Not exactly like our current Commander, eh?”
Una smirked slightly. “Yeah, they could do a book on Hawle, and I’ve only been here a few days. He’s certainly… unique.”
“Good or bad?”
Colleen hummed for a moment. “Not sure yet. I’m erring on the smart side of totally bonkers for the moment. Has he been down here?”
“Of course,” Kirkwall mock boasted. “I’m the best restaurant on the ship, of course the Captain eats here. At least three times. When he just wants a salad he goes to the machines. I suppose I understand it, although I can do a spiffy Waldorf Salad. Even made it at the namesake hotel once.”
“You’ve been to Earth?”
“Yeah, I was on vacation. They make it with fruits and nuts, you know?”
“Humans have weird foods,” Una agreed, finishing off her coffee shortly before Kirkwall finished his.
“Everyone has weird foods,” Kirkwall replied. “But I don’t comment on it. I just cook here. Speaking of which..,” he added as a new customer came in. “Been any help,” he asked as he started back towards the serving hatch.
“Some,” Una replied, looking back to her datapad as the ship continued on it’s way.

[Amazee Dayzee]

Hawle might be totally bonkers but he is still very adorable and I'm sure really brave!

[Welsh Halfwit]

Yup. And I just wanted a mixed sex pairing that were friends. No secret desires. No longing. No lust. So these two are perfect for that.

[Amazee Dayzee]

I think it works out pretty well and they do have that sort of vibe! Wonderful work!

[Welsh Halfwit]

Part 18

Junk

The ship hung in the void between star systems, pointing towards the nearest one, the one with the star designated KC19567-9 and waited. It might almost have been taken to be thinking, just like it’s Captain inside. He sat in his seat, not moving, as the distress call they’d been following played at much stronger signal. “You’re sure it’s coming from this system,” Hawle asked his communications officer.
Dawton looked up. “Absolutely, sir, Signal strength indicates it’s coming from somewhere near the fourth planet.”
“Tell me about the system, Grovan,” Hawle ordered.
“It’s a un-star system,” the Collian replied. “Ten planets, of which three, four and five are in the habitable range. There are signs of interstellar craft but we don’t know if they came from here or if they’re just ‘passing through’. That’s what the sensors are saying, sir.”
Hawle winked. “I doubt they added the ‘passing through’ part, Harper, but that’s by the by.” He rubbed his chin. “Keep sensors to maximum and take us in slowly, Chapston.”
“Feeling something’s wrong, Captain,” Grovan asked, leaning over from his station.
“Perhaps, Harper, perhaps.” Hawle sighed. “That signal was being beamed straight towards our space.” He gestured, raising his hands for a moment before putting them back down. “Anyone hoping for rescue who knew about the council would do that but…”
“So would anyone wanting to trap another ship,” Grovan finished.
Hawle put on an amused look. “Oh, you’ve obviously been thinking about this,” he admitted lightly. “Have you thought about your team?”
“My..?”
“Well, you’ll need at least one engineer, of course,” Hawle continued, “and Jaqui’s going to want to take at least three guards so you need to select your three for the remaining seats on the shuttle…”
“You’re sending me over, sir?”
“Absolutely, Harper. Someone from command needs to be there and Raven did the last death defying mission. It’s your turn. As soon as we’re just outside normal planetary sensor detection, you take a shuttle and go find the Bellaphron and board her. Either by docking or teleport, you choose.”
“Couldn’t we take the Loper in, sir? It seems redundant to take a shuttle if you’re going there anyway.”
“If you get into trouble, the Loper can get you out of it.”
“So you’re using us as a Canary?”
“No,” Hawle said with unusual sharpness. “I’m using you as my second officer and giving you an order, Harper! You’re not just in command but you’re trained in the sciences too, which neither I nor Raven are! Now, who’s on your team?”
Grovan swallowed. Hawle rarely used that tone of voice and it indicated there was to be no more discussion on the issue. He played over who he’d take. “Winsome for the computers, of course,” he said. “Travis, perhaps, in case anything happens to me? Oh, and Night, of course.”
“Good choices,” Hawle admitted, lightening his tone now the point was made. “Tell Night she’s not allowed to send Doctor Fuze in her place. He can look after Pulver and get the sickbay ready for whatever. Go sort out the atmosphere suits too. You’ll need ‘em.”

It took them half an hour to get close enough to the planet nearest the distress call origin point. Grovan was already down in the launch bay so he wasn’t seeing what the Bridge crew were seeing. A mighty junkyard of ships orbiting the second moon. All sizes and shapes sprinkled around orbit. A bare few Hawle thought he recognised and there was one extra U.S.C. clipper ship in the mix that Hawle felt they should get closer to. The ships appeared to be grouped together and Hawle reckoned that the two council ships were far apart simply because the Bellaphron was technically antique compared to the other one. The Loper would have to get closer to the clipper to read the name on the hull as the transponder was no longer working. He tapped his comm. “Ambassador Una to the bridge,” he commanded before closing the link and turning to Dawton. “Tell Grovan he’s clear to go, would you,”

Colleen Una came onto the bridge and was about to enquire as to what had necessitated her presence when she saw what was on the screen and stood there in stunned silence. “What..,” she eventually managed.
“Looks like some sort of Spaceship graveyard,” Hawle told her. “Only I don’t think it is.”
She shook her head and joined Hawle in the Command chairs. “Why not,”
“Sit in Raven’s chair, why don’t you,” Hawle commented, sparing her a grin. “Relax, she’s not using it right now. Our scans of the clipper, the, uh, Fallir, indicate that she’s quite serviceable apart from being ‘switched off’, as it were. Long range scans indicate the same for the Bellaphron or, at least, that she’s not been in a firefight recently. They’re just… there.”
“Dozens of ships…” Una shook her head. “Any idea on what happened to the crews?”
“Not a one,” Hawle remarked. “Logically, they’re on one of the planets but we don’t know which. Hopefully Grovan will bring back more information.”
“You’re sending Harper,” Una queried.
“Yes,” Hawle replied, a tad irritably, “he’s a command officer. He’s up to it.”
“Of course.”
He turned to her. “Colleen, do you know him or something?”
“No,” she asserted. “It’s a class thing. People assume two Collians meet in space, we’re doomed to pair up. But I’m not after that.”
“Nor am I,” Hawle remarked, turning back to the screen. “So that’s good.” He waited five seconds before adding “we don’t have crèche facilities anyway.”
He heard her struggle to suppress a laugh.

Grovan was piloting the shuttle himself as Pangal and the others stayed to the back of the assault shuttle. He was keeping it going at minimum speed so it might look like a piece of floating rock or debris on any watching scanner. “I’m not particularly sure we should use the teleporter if we think people are watching,” Pangal called, “the power signature could well be detectable.”
“Fair enough,” the Collian at the wheel replied. “That’s plan ‘B’ then. Slightly above space walk. Plan ‘A’ is docking in the huge, open, docking ports. Like this one,” he added, pointing the nose of the shuttle at a black void in the hull. “Let’s go see what’s aboard,” he added, nosing into the old ship as the others put their helmets on.