Captain Glaber and the Rhamphiod Menace
Captain
Glaber didn’t have a second to consider who’d fired at him before he needed to
push down on the controls and dodge a second missile streaking through the void
towards his spaceship. And a third. Dodged.
He needed to get away, clear of the ordinance being fired at him. He spun around and dived deeper into the
asteroid field where the biggest asteroids and planetoids gathered. He sped through the rocks and rounded
mountains, wary of further missiles or, more likely, pursuit by his attacker. He traced an orbit of the largest celestial
body and dipped the ship deep into the dark shadow of a crater, a cave, out of
sight of the local sun, out of sight of the stars, and out of sight from
pursuit. An internal void. Darkness was a friend for his poor eyesight,
his other senses more than made up for it, not to mention the spaceship’s
scanners. But hiding was another risk, an
easy target staying in one place, but he reasoned that his attacker didn’t want
him dead; he was being played with. And
he could guess by who. This was the
tactics of the enemy, of the Rhamphiod of the Neidr, to disable his ship with
missiles, and to goad him into making mistakes.
As
if on cue, the comms buzzed.
Glaber
clicked open the channel and the screen blinked to life on a grinning familiar
face.
“You’re
trespassing Commander Rufus,” said the captain.
He’d had dealings with her before, but never this close. She’d killed many of his colony. She was ruthless. “This is Naked Mole Rat space.”
“No,
it isssn’t anymore,” replied his hunter, a hungry look in her large,
black-rimmed eyes. “Your Queen Tywod ssseceded
this quadrant to the Neidr.” The lights
in her cockpit reflected against her yellow scales as she spoke, green and red
pinpoints distorted and diffused. “Did
ssshe not inform you, sssand puppy?”
He
winced at the slur. “You’re lying; her
majesty would do no such thing.” He spat
the words. Glaber knew it wasn’t true;
Rufus wanted nothing more than to find out where his colony was; the Rhamphiod
of the Neidr were predators, the Mole Rats prey. And, though she might make a meal of him, a
solitary Mole Rat wasn’t enough to sate the hunger of the Neidr. And he was useful to her alive. “I’ve called in some back up; they’re on their
way.”
The
Rhamphiod laughed. “Now who’sss lying,
Glaber?” Her forked tongue flickered
between her teeth as her grin spread and distorted the markings on her face. “I’ve blocked your communications.” Another laugh slithered out. “Though you may leave if you wisssh; I’ve had
my fun.”
The
captain raised a wrinkled eyebrow in response, and then said, “I can
wait.” And he really could, if needed;
he could turn down the oxygen and the heat in the cabin, lower his metabolism
much lower than it already was. His
species could thrive in extremes. “You
won’t find the colony because of me.”
“Maybe
we should find out who can wait longer,” said Commander Rufus. “I know what you were doing here,
Glaber. I know you were here for the
uranium. I bet that can’t wait asss long
as you.”
He
looked out into the darkness, then back at the screen. “We shall see,” he stated. He switched off the comms and the serpentine
woman vanished. She was right; the
colony needed that uranium for its power, and Glaber, as one of the smaller
workers, was tasked with gathering. The
larger Mole Rats were the fighters, not him; he didn’t stand a chance against
any predator, nevermind a Rhamphiod of the Neidr.
He
needed to make a run for it.
“Computer?”
asked Captain Glaber, and a rising three-note tone indicated it was receptive
to his instructions. “Plot a course home,
but don’t wait until we’re clear of the asteroid field to ascend to hyperspace.” He thought about Commander Rufus’s missiles;
she’d try to disable the ship as soon as he exposed himself. “I need to get out of here, and fast.”
“Calculating,”
chimed the computer in its friendly voice.
“Calculating.” Two low
tones. “Warning, hyperspace ascension within
one hundred rels of multiple celestial objects in clustered distribution may
cause serious harm. Danger to ship
integrity leading to loss of life reads at forty-seven percent probability,
and…”
“Computer,”
said Glaber, “ignore safety warnings. I
want to be in hyperspace as soon as I can see the stars.”
The
three-note tone chimed. “Route
established.”
Glaber
flicked the autopilot switch, and the spaceship lurched forward and crept out
from the darkness of the hollow shelter.
He only had a second’s worth of stars and asteroids in his sights before
his vision warped as the spacetime around him did, he thought he’d spotted
another ship, her ship, and then reality collapsed into a searing rainbow tunnel,
and he ascended to hyperspace.
He
ran a quick scan. He’d never trusted his
eyes, and the computer came back inconclusive for what he’d thought he’d seen. Captain Glaber sighed. That was the best he could hope for, with
some small comfort that the ship hadn’t disintegrated into an asteroid on the
way out of the crater. Ha, his computer
had given a forty-seven percent chance!
Now, he was safely, and wholly, heading for home
He
hadn’t managed to get as much uranium as he’d planned, but it would be
enough. Queen Tywod, who worked harder
than anyone else, would undoubtedly push him to come back out to the asteroid
field, with a shove of motivation. He’d
need to convince her of the threat from the Neidr in that sector. He’d need to convince her to allow some of
the fighters to join him.
Colours
flashed through the cockpit window; it was somewhat comforting, and he wondered
what it would be like to live in the tunnels of hyperspace, instead of the
tunnels of his home.
Still,
he missed the colony; it would be good to return even if only for a short
time. He wanted to spend some time with
the pups. The Queen, with the assistance
of one of her three husbands, had recently birthed a litter of twelve pups
about a month ago and they’d be out in the colony for cooperative care by the
time he got back. He hadn’t had the honour
of nesting with the newborns, sharing his warmth, in quite some time.
He
looked over to his right, then his left, at the photos of his family, his
colony, that he kept around the cockpit.
All three hundred and twenty-two of them. This is why he was here ; he’d do anything for them, just as he knew
they’d do anything for him. It was all
for the good of the colony, for the good of everyone.
The
computer chirped, and Glaber’s attention turned to his scanners.
A
ship was following him. Gaining on
him. It was faster than his little
spaceship. He, of course, knew who it
was.
Captain
Glaber had no choice. Home was no longer
an option. He couldn’t continue on this
route; he couldn’t lead Commander Rufus to the colony. He couldn’t put them in danger.
Not
all was lost. Even though he wasn’t a
fighter, even though he was small and weak, even though she was fast and agile,
predatory, he still had some advantages over his enemy given the right
circumstances.
He
needed to take another risk, and a plan was forming to create those
circumstances.
“Computer,”
he said, then waited for the three-tone response, and continued, “reroute to
sector three-eight-apple-six-green. Then,
disable deceleration descent and drop out of hyperspace without safeties
engaged.”
“Calculating,”
said the ship. “Calculating.” The two familiar low tones buzzed. “Warning…”
“No
warning,” he interrupted. “Just do it.”
The
computer chimed its response, and he could’ve sworn the melody was somewhat
obscene and defiant to his commands.
“Rerouting,” said the computer its usual friendly voice. “Reroute complete.”
The cockpit, the whole ship,
shuddered as it took a sharp left and thrusted into a new hyperspace tunnel. The spectrum of light surrounding him swirled
indifferently; it was almost impossible to see the exits and entrances to the
various passages even with good eyesight, but it was possible for a Mole Rat to
sense them, though the ship’s computer took that burden from him.
Glaber checked the scanner. Good.
She’d followed him into the new route.
And she was still catching up; he prayed to the Queen that he’d have
enough time to prepare his trap.
The computer beeped another
tune and said, “Warning, please prepare for sudden deceleration in,” and he
braced himself into the seat, “three, two, one…”
The immediate jolt didn’t hurt
as much as he’d expected, despite his high pain tolerance, though his loose and
wrinkled skin vibrated with aftershocks.
It only took a few seconds for echoes of flashing colours to dissipate
from his vision. He felt a little
sick. A little dizzy. But there was no time to focus on recovery; his
destination was ahead, waiting, floating in the dark void.
Sector
three-eight-apple-six-green.
Some said that the structure
he approached was cursed. Haunted by the
ancient humans that had long since died out.
Occasionally, the Mole Rats would visit here, carry out some research,
glean some technology that would advance their species, and leave. Sometimes it was a good place to stop for
repairs or rest. But it was no place to
live. It was an uninviting tomb of unnatural
metal and plastic. It had no heart. It didn’t matter if it was haunted or not.
Even the Rhamphiod of the
Neidr avoided this place, much more wary of the curse than any other species.
Captain Glaber approached the
abandoned space station at speed and docked into a landing bay within the inner
ring. The place was deserted, as
expected, empty but clean. The station
ran on automatic, tending to its ghosts, and the area he’d come to illuminated at
his presence.
He checked his scanners
again. Commander Rufus had descended
from hyperspace shortly after him and was approaching the station with a
cautious speed. There was no way that
firing missiles at the eerie structure would cross her superstitious mind, and
Glaber was grateful for the extra time it gave him.
The captain instructed his
computer to interface with the station’s, laid out his instructions ready for
his plan, then popped open his cockpit and climbed down into the docking bay. The artificial gravity had kicked in upon his
landing, and it was nice to feel some semblance of normality, some weight in
his step, after a week of mining asteroids for uranium.
He stood by as the floor of
the bay opened, his spaceship descended into the storage below, and the floor
reappeared. He didn’t want to make it
easy for her, but then again, his plan relied on Rufus finding him. At least now, she wouldn’t be able to easily
disable his ship and prevent his escape from this space station.
Glaber didn’t intend for her
to be able to follow him out.
He strolled through a door
into the foyer beyond, trying to stay calm and not let his panicked heartbeat
dictate his actions. The Rhamphiod
commander would be here soon, if she wasn’t already. He’d know if the risk was worth it once she found
him. And he would rather die than reveal
the location of his colony.
He walked along the sterile corridors,
knowing that his ship’s computer and that of the station were tracking him as
he travelled.
“Captain Glaber.” The voice, dripping with malice and mischief,
startled him. Commander Rufus stepped
out from a doorway, holding a stun gun, a weapon of choice for the Rhamphiod species
as it disabled their prey for a much more physical, personal kill. “It’sss ssso good to sssee you.”
“Rufus,” he replied with a
nod. He didn’t have a weapon of his own;
he wasn’t a fighter, only a gatherer, and had no taste for violence. However, that didn’t mean he was
defenceless. He smiled, plan coming to
fruition, and started to say, “Comp…”
The hunter fired her gun.
Glaber fell to the floor,
heartrate rocketing. He clutched his
chest to calm his centre, as if the closeness of his hand would somehow calm
his rapid pulse. He was dizzy. He wanted to puke. The well-lit corridor dimmed, and he watched
helplessly as the blurred figure of Commander Rufus stepped toward him. His energy had drained away, lost from his
muscles; he couldn’t fight back even if he wanted to.
The Rhamphiod kicked him in
the stomach. It didn’t hurt, pain was a
stranger to him, but it winded him. She
was laughing; it was a distant and fading laugh, diminishing along with his
consciousness. His world was slipping
away from him. He knew he would wake to
torture, to truth-telling drugs, and then his life, and his colony’s, would be
at an end.
He’d lost.
No.
No, it wasn’t to end here. He couldn’t let her win.
With his last ounce of
strength he whispered and hoped the ship’s computer would hear him, “Computer,
now.”
And everything went blank; his
senses failed.
#
Captain
Glaber awoke to a weight resting on top of his body. He couldn’t move it, not yet; he had no
strength. He lay there, groggy, waiting
for the feeling to come back into his limbs, for the pins and needles to
dissipate. He waited for his sight, what
little he had, to return. He heard the
familiar thrum of the space station, his own breathing, his heart beating in
his ears with its regular rhythm.
He
was alive, but he didn’t know if his hope had won out.
He pushed
on the weight, trying to dislodge it from atop him, and his brain hadn’t fully
come to yet, so he didn’t know what it was.
He squeaked several choice swear words in the ancient tongue of his
ancestors. He pushed. He shoved.
And as he forced it from his body, the realisation what had fallen on
him, who had fallen on him, came into focus.
Commander
Rufus was dead.
His
plan had worked.
Before
leaving the docking bay, he’d instructed his computer to track him, and upon his
command drain the atmosphere of oxygen, turn off the heat, and irradiate his
location. Naked Mole Rats could survive,
at least for a short time, with zero oxygen, and as a thermoconforming
ectotherm, the cold was of very little concern.
The species was also resistant to ionising radiation, making them the
perfect astronauts; it was also advantageous for collecting uranium.
Zero
oxygen, freezing cold, radiation; all deadly to the Rhamphiod of the Neidr.
“Computer,”
he uttered, as he clambered to his feet.
He was a little unsteady. “Restore
environment… slowly.” He disarmed Rufus
and then checked her life signs to ensure she was dead, just in case he’d been wrong
in his plans. He’d throw her gun into
space at the earliest opportunity.
He
headed back to the docking bay, to his spaceship, limping through the corridor
as his energy returned. He took one
final look at the Rhamphiod hunter, her yellow scales more pallid than ever in
the sanitised light of the space station.
He’d survived. He’d won. It was over.
Captain
Glaber had never been a fighter, but today, he was.
It
was time to go home.
The End.
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