I am in the gym when the call comes through. But I am distracted. I stare at myself in the gym mirror and I realise with horror – I have grey hairs in my body fur. “This journey is taking too damn long,” I snarl. But then I hear the sound of the beeper.
War stations.
We run towards our positions. In every corridor, wall screens show us images of the Corporation fleet that has assembled against us. It is very very big. Then the screen switches to another camera’s perspective. It is more than very big. It is vast.
On the vidscreen, like ocean waves, I see the warships of the Galactic Corporation sweep towards us. And in the real world, I see a female Loper pirate standing near me in the corridor. We lock eyes. It will be some time before the infantry have a role to play. There is time, just about, for some fur on fur. We move off together and find an empty cabin.
As she manipulates my sexual organ, the girl Loper laughs. “You have grey fur,” she said.
“I’m having it regrown,” I growl irritably at her.
“I think it’s kind of cute,” she purrs, and for the first time in a long long while, I feel relaxed and content.
Jamie
I hear the alarm siren that tells me combat is about to commence. And I run up the ramps all the way to the bridge and end up too breathless to speak. “Hi,” I gasp.
“Where’s Harry?” says Alliea.
“Otherwise engaged,” Brandon chips in. He hacks into all the ship’s cctv cameras, he has a funny smirk on his face. Ooooh, I think, Harry’s up to something naughty…
But back to me! Flanagan turns to the bridge crew: “Jamie will be supervising the computer links.”
“Have we time for a vanishing trick?” I ask.
Flanagan nods. “I’ve assigned five thousand vessels.”
“They need to accelerate into position right away. You need a diversion.”
Flanagan presses a button on his console. On the vidscreen, we vividly see one of our own ships explode.
“Who did you kill?”
“They were volunteers,” he says, curtly. Into the intercom: “This is your Captain speaking. Panic, please, act like a bunch of arseholes.”
The fleet of ships panics, in incoherent unison, veering off every which way. I try to hide my grin. I have learned, painfully, that people don’t like it when you laugh at such moments. It’s considered bad form.
“How many vessels in the Corporation fleet?” I ask.
The computer flashes up an answer: circa 4,800,000. We have 251,602 vessels, having built all those extra ships during our long voyage. So, we’re way outnumbered.
“This is your Captain speaking,” Flanagan says into the intercom. “ You have your instructions, and you must follow them to the letter. Remember: our aim is not to defeat this enemy fleet. Our aim is to reach Kornbluth. Let’s kill some robot.”
“Flanagan!” A shrill voice cries out. Lena has arrived on the bridge.
“ I was meant to give the order to attack,” she says petulantly. Flanagan hides a smile.
“I haven’t yet given the order.”
Lena presses the intercom switch. “This is your leader. Attack.” And she lets out a rebel yell. Despite myself, I feel goosebumps down my spine. I echo the rebel yell.
Everyone in the bridge does a rebel yell. It feels good.
We feel like real warriors.