On the run

Arcania : 3014 : 217

It was dawn, or something closely resembling it as far as Arthur Kill could tell going by the sad bleating of the ship’s alarm clock. In space it was easy you lose track of time when you didn’t have a regular Solar or Lunar body to ‘set your watch by’. Speaking of time, Arthur groaned in subdued outrage at the thought of it. He was still going by Earth time, even now, when he hadn’t even set eyes on the outer atmosphere of the planet for at least 13 years. Had it been that long? Trying to turn over, Arthur found himself hanging on to his hangover for dear life as it threatened to hurtle him over the edge of the nearest toilet bowl. But perhaps that is what he needed, a good old stomach evacuation to clear the senses and send him rolling back to reality. Stubbornly, he refused, choosing instead to focus on his breathing for a moment. The deep rise and fall of his chest pulling him back from the brink while his body coated him in a cold sweat. This was not a good day. And that alarm would not give it a rest! Flinging himself forward with the grace of a wounded gazelle, Arthur reached over to the small bedside table and knocked over an empty bottle. It clattered to the floor, followed closely by a stream of curse words. They

‘Ship! Turn alarm off!’ Arthur bellowed, and immediately there was silence.

‘Thank you!’ came the echo of a woman’s voice down the ship’s corridors.

She sounded as though she was a mile away, Arthur thought before giving up on consciousness and slipping back into his dreams. It was a short-lived escape. No sooner had he drifted back into the arms of the very explicit dream he was having then he was rudely woken again. This time by a violent shaking.  

‘For the love of Bentraxy!’ Arthur roared, sitting straight up in bed.

‘Wake up Arthur, we’re in deep shit,’ yelled his first mate, throwing a glass of water in his face.

‘What the hell Deadly!’ Arthur yelled, throwing up his hands too late to offer any protection.

‘Come on, let’s go!’ Abigail said again, ‘we’ve been made by a Threnses carrier, we need to get out of here now! 

‘Hungover to all hell and I haven’t even had coffee yet,’ Arthur sighed, throwing his legs over the side of the bed and pushing himself up.

‘Not without pants you don’t,’ Abigail warned, throwing a pair of pants his way, ‘this ain’t no nudist colony,’ she added as she turned and headed out the door to Arthur’s quarters and turned left to head up to the bridge.

Truth be told Abigail Deadly wasn’t feeling so peachy keen herself.  A night of drinking and lost memories filled her head.  She needed to brush her teeth. Her hair felt heavy as it brushed around her face and shoulders, a mess of black curls. She hated the clothes she’d put on. Last night’s jumpsuit. It smelled of alcohol and smoke, stale sweat and dancing. But it was the closest thing she could grab when the ship’s proximity sensors had alerted her to the Threnses ship. You did not mess with those guys. Junk traders and scrappers, they would strip your ship inside 30 seconds and leave you floating in the middle of the inky black starlit sky with not even a spacesuit on your back. Your only choice was to outrun them or out blast them, and Abigail was in no mood to fight.

Staring at the screen in front of her, she saw the blinking red lights that told her their cover had been blown. How had they turned off their cloaking device? Questions for another time, Abigail realised. Right now, she had about a minute to get this ship ready to run. Not an easy thing for a Dreadnought Destroyer Class to do on a dime. And where the hell was Arthur? As if to answer her, she heard the even thumping of him running down the corridor towards her.

‘How in the name of all that is holy did those bastards find us?’ Arthur looked wild eyed as he sipped on his coffee, handing a cup to Abigail.

Where had he found time to get coffee?

‘Got lucky? I don’t know, but we can’t fight them, well I know I can’t I feel like death,’ Abigail admitted, ‘what did we do last night?’

‘Make sweet, sweet love?’ Arthur offered, knowing this was a sure way to annoy the crap out of the woman who had been his best mate for the past 4 years.

‘Don’t be vile man!’ Abigail protested as expected, throwing her hands in the air in disgust and causing Arthur to erupt into loud guffaws of laughter. Instantly he regretted it as his brain felt like it was trying to punch its way out of his skull. 

‘So how screwed are we?’ he asked as his head finally stopped spinning.

‘Threnses carrier, Scupper Class, about 30 clicks south of that Nebula. Luckily, I had the smarts to set out the proximity sensors before … well whatever I drank last night, I just had a feeling you know? So, I set them out a bit further than usual, and forethought paid off baby!’ Abigail explained. 

‘And they know we’re here?’ 

‘Yarp,’ Abigail nodded her head as she bent over the ship’s controls.

‘We gotta run?’ 

‘Yes sir,’ Abigail replied.

She knew Arthur loved a good fight and it was in his blood. You could take the man out of the military, but … well you know the drill. The trick was knowing when to hold ‘em and when to fold ’em. Sometimes Arthur didn’t get it right, or didn’t want to, was probably a closer truth.

‘And it looks like they’ve noticed we’ve fired up the ship,’ Abigail added, looking up at Arthur through her lashes and sipping her coffee with all the attitude she could muster.

‘Don’t you just love the smell of possible annihilation first thing in the morning?’ Arthur asked as he took manual control of his ship.

‘Is it morning? I can’t tell anymore,’ Abigail smiled sadly as she took her station.

‘No time to get existential Deadly my dear, now hang on to something, it’s time to ship out!’ Arthur yelled, adrenalin coursing through his veins and overriding the fog of his hangover.

His ship, the Arcania, formerly the Recussia, responded to his touch on the controls as the Threnses carrier suddenly went nuclear. Star bursts and fire flew out of its sides as it charged towards the Arcania. Arthur wasn’t fazed. He’d seen worse. He’d known real terror. This was a fireworks display. Banking hard left, the Arcania tipped wildly in the vacuum of space but steadied. With her engines at 60% she was flying through the darkness like a meteor. The Threnses ship followed the movement, and was soon gaining on Arthur’s ship. It was going to be as close as it ever was. Abigail knew they needed a clean line so they could open up the engines to full running and get clear of these assholes. Not an easy thing to find in such a crowded Galaxy as this.

‘I can see an opening, but it’s about 16 clicks away,’ Abigail suggested, as Arthur wrestled with the Arcania, forcing the ship to do things it had never dreamed of, at least not recently.

‘How long until contact with the Threnses?’

But Arthur didn’t have time to answer, as an explosion rocked the ship.

‘Thank the Maker for shields!’ yelled Abigail above the blast noise. 

‘I can outflank them, just lead the way,’ Arthur said, nodding to Abigail to let her know she had his full trust. 

‘Man I would love to take these bastards outside and … ‘ but she didn’t get to finish her cursing as the ship was rocked by another blast, ‘the shields won’t hold for much longer,’ she explained, staring at the glowing screen in front of her and assessing the data.

Arthur was in his own world and didn’t reply. All he knew was the ship he was flying and the ship he was flying away from. Abigail didn’t press the issue, she simply showed him the way.

As the Arcania serpentined across the length of the galaxy, their passage of escape suddenly became clear. Arthur gunned the engines, which took precious moments to respond. The Threnses ship now loomed large behind them on the view screen. It was now or never, and only the Maker knew if they stood a chance. With a mighty whoop, Arthur punched the Arcania into hyperspace, leaving a trail of ice crystals and the Threnses’ bitter disappointment in its wake. They’d survived another day in this hostile world. Now it was time for breakfast.