A Game of Battleships (30 page)

Carveth staggered back as if from a gust of wind. ‘Bloody hell!’

The thing in the chair looked around. Its head alone was the size of a car. It raised a proboscis 
longer than an elephant’s trunk and let out a low, sonorous boom. In that moment, despite its size and the hardening of its body, Smith realised the similarity in shape as well as sound.

‘I am the eldest of the Khlangari,’ the creature said. ‘And it is well past the time of their return.’

Smith looked at W, and W looked at Barton. ‘I’m the governor,’ Barton said, as if it was just 
dawning on him. ‘I run the station here. Captain Smith and this gentleman are dealing with matters 
relating to, er, guests we have at the moment. You can come in if you want. We’ve got a buffet.’

‘Typical,’ said the being in the chair. ‘You try to seed the galaxy with intelligent life and this 
happens. Right then. I’ll keep it simple. I am the mind and pilot of a polyp-based self-aware starship, which you would call one of the Voidani space whales. Which of you knows the location of the mystics 
of Khlangar?’

Smith stepped forward. ‘Good morning. I represent the British Space Fleet. The Khlangari 
deputation is under our protection–’

His voice was drowned out in a numbing throb of bass. The creature sat up in its chair. ‘In the 
past hour, I have picked up a transmission issued from your space station. It gives co-ordinates and 
precise location data. Normally this would not concern me. However, it also mentions the presence of 
five of our species.’

‘That’s quite right. They’re here as part of a diplomatic mission to form a united front against 
alien tyranny. I must say that for little fellows they’re making a jolly good job of it.’

‘I have also detected vessels at the edge of the system which, I understand, represent powers 
hostile to you. In short, this area is now a warzone,’ said the thing in the chair. ‘You have six standard hours. At the end of that time you will provide proof that the Khlangari deputation is safe and well.

Failure to do so will result in me taking measures to ensure their return.’

‘I have told you that they are safe,’ Smith replied. ‘As an Englishman, my word is proof enough. I 
hope you are not trying to threaten me, sir.’

‘Threaten
you
? Of course not. I am threatening your space station, everyone in it and, depending on how I feel, everyone they have ever met. Because otherwise, we will research your colony. You may 
care to remember what happens when the Voidani research other life forms.’

‘You eat them.’

‘Precisely. Harm the deputation and suffer the wrath of the space whales.’

Rhianna took a step towards the monitor. ‘Actually, I’m the human-Vorl liaison here. I’m like a 
counsellor, except psychic.’

‘Great,’ said the creature. ‘Then I’m sure you can sense how delighted I am to see you. This 
conversation is over,’ it added, and as the throne turned away, the image disappeared.

‘Well!’ said Rhianna.

‘Balls,’ said W.

‘He’d better not blow up the station,’ Barton said. ‘It took me ages to sort this place out.’

‘Boss,’ Carveth said, ‘am I reading this wrong, or was that the Khlangari’s dad?’

Smith nodded, but he did not turn from the screen. ‘I rather feel it may have been.’

‘Oh Gaia!’ Rhianna breathed, ‘so the Khlangari are protected by the space whales. That alters my 
entire perception of the galaxy.’

‘Damn right,’ Carveth said. ‘It makes it about fifty times more terrifying.’

‘They must be, like, the larval stage or something. It’s such a privilege to make contact with such 
a spiritual being, although I’m not really digging all the death threats.’

‘I don’t see that it changes much,’ Barton said. Of all of them, he seemed the least concerned.

‘We’ve just got to stop the enemy fleet within six hours. Same thing as before, except that now we’ll all die if we don’t. Oh, actually that is quite bad. Suppose I’d better get back to the negotiations, then.’

W watched him go. ‘Barton’s right,’ said the spy. ‘The stakes are rising, gentlemen. Not only do 
we need to save the station, but we need to do so before the space whales demand their friends back. Of course, if we can be seen to defeat the enemy, it may make an alliance with the Voidani all the more 
probable. .’

‘Then to battle!’ Suruk exclaimed. ‘For what do we wait?’

‘Well said, Suruk,’ Smith said. ‘What option is there but to attack? We must take this war to the 
enemy, with the sword of justice in hand. For if the torch of liberty falls, then we will find–’

‘That we’ve dropped a Khlangar,’ Carveth said.

‘Just get to the ship.’

Felicity Fitzroy buckled herself into the captain's chair. The first sign of competence in starship captaincy, after all, was using a seatbelt. Computer screens blinked into activity, needles twitched under glass and engines grumbled into life as
HMS Chimera
came awake around her.

Dave’s red light flickered on the dashboard. ‘Good day, Felicity. Did you have a pleasant 
evening? Did you..
do things
with anyone?’

‘No time to chat, Dave,’ she replied. ‘Get us undocked and into the black. Full steam ahead to 
the system’s edge.’

‘Whatever you say.’

‘Mr Chumble, what’s our weapons status?’

The android adjusted six dials, pulled a lever and shouted into a tube. ‘Weapons report that our 
railguns are shinier than a thrupenny bit, ma’am. All crew at battle stations and eager as an orphan in a pie shop, by Jove.’

The floor rumbled. In the screen, Wellington Prime began to shrink. ‘Good fellow. Dave, have 
the pilots on standby.’

The red light throbbed. ‘I thought having the pilots was your job, Felicity. I’ll let them know.’

‘Alright then.’ Captain Fitzroy flicked the intercom switch and waited as the funnel swung into 
position. ‘Attention crew!’ she barked. ‘We are commencing an aggressive patrol against vessels unknown, believed to be four Edenite martyr-class warships. You are to remain at highest vigilance. Our enemy may be using experimental stealth technology. So if anything comes on screen get the bang boxes tracking it pronto, understand? We’re going in against people who don’t know what fair play is. So guard your shins, team. Over.’

The
Chimera
tore through space, the roar of its engines echoing through the hull. Captain Fitzroy leaned back in her seat, crossed her legs and admired her stern, handsome face in the shiny toe of her boot. ‘Mr Chumble, get two antimatter fish in the tubes.’

‘Gladly, ma’am.’

‘Super.’ Captain Fitzroy leaned into the comms tube and turned the dial. ‘Major Wainscott? You 
there?’

‘Suited and magnetic booted,’ the tube growled back. ‘We’re geared up for boarding. You chaps 
open the tins and we’ll eat up whatever’s inside.’

‘That’s the spirit.’ She pushed the funnel away. ‘Dockside cavalry’s all set, Chumble. Swing us out 
sunward. We’ll hit these blighters from the wing.’

*

Smith took his seat in the captain’s chair as Carveth turned the ignition key. The
John Pym
coughed, coughed again and suddenly roared into fearsome life. Needles whirled and battered the far edges of dials.

For a moment Smith thought the ship was going to rip through its moorings, and then the engine sank 
down, as though the
Pym
had woken in a panic like an old man before realising where it was.

‘Sorry,’ Carveth said, ‘my foot got stuck on the pedal.’

The front thrusters fired and the airlock couplers pulled back. Smith felt apprehension form in 
his chest like a solid ball, conker-sized and rapidly swelling. He decided to drown out his fear with his own voice. ‘Take us out of dock, Carveth! Rhianna, we’re going to need you to do your psychic stuff. See if you can sense the stealth ship.’

‘Righto, Captain!” she said, and saluted, which had a stiffening effect on Smith’s morale. In a 
whirl of dreadlocks Rhianna turned and disappeared into the ship.

Now that
,
Smith thought, is a woman.

The space station began to shrink in the screen, receding from view, leaving them out in the dark.

‘Good luck, Godspeed,’ W declared over the intercom, ‘and don’t cock up.’

Smith saluted the speaker. ‘Righto!’ he said.

‘And for Heaven’s sake don’t let the Ghasts get hold of that mirror. Keep it on the ship, and if 
you have to, destroy it.’

Carveth looked round. ‘He means destroy the mirror,’ she said. ‘Not the ship.’

Smith frowned. ‘I knew that.’

Carveth turned the
John Pym
towards the depths of space and they sped forward to do the 
Empire’s work.

*

Barton carefully wrote out a note and one of his drones flew across the hall and dropped it onto the 
M’Lak delegation. One of the pilots held it against the side of the gilled helmsman’s container. Two 
minutes later, Sedderik turned upside-down and floated to the top of his tank.

‘The helmsman is sick,’ Sedderik's lead attendant declared. ‘He must retire to his quarters.’

‘I’ve taken a hundred and eighty-degree turn for the worse,’ Sedderik moaned. ‘Carry on without 
me.’

Barton nodded to the two riflemen guarding the door and they opened it to allow the helmsman 
to be pushed out. He gave a valiant little wave, and the doors closed.

The Chinese ambassador stood up. ‘So the Morlock representative is no longer present. Can this 
meeting continue without him?’ A Yothian whirled its communication-stalks in support. C’Neth rubbed 
his translucent chin.

The lead M’lak delegate rose to his feet. ‘Gentlemen, we have made preparations for this 
contingency. There is one amongst us trained to deal with complex inter-species diplomacy. May I 
introduce Gorgar Smashbrain, grand bludgeoner of Narg?’

*

A diode flashed red against the shiny brass of the console. Chumble turned, the light giving his round face a ruddy, cherubic glow. ‘Scanners have a confirmed signal, Captain. I have five ships, strung out on a convergent approach. Their target is our very own space station.’

‘Keep out on the wing, Mr Chumble,’ Captain Fitzroy replied. ‘Engines down.’ She checked the 
visuals: in cold space, sunlight winked on distant hulls, as though five comets converged on the same 
point of impact. The lights sank on the bridge of the
Chimera
; throughout the battleship, men would be silent at their posts, only the click of levers and the soft hiss of pistons giving them away. ‘We’ll creep up nice and close, hit them from the side, then roll down the length.’

‘A crafty tactic, ma’am, if I may be so bold. But then I never did practice lacrosse.’

‘You missed out. All engines on silent, Mr Chumble. Dave, set up a trajectory for each torp. Get 
ready for evasive as soon as we let rip.’

‘A pleasure,’ the computer replied. ‘Ah, yes. . the enemy are in close formation, only a hundred 
miles between each. Tactically primitive. Are you familiar with Caesar’s Gallic escapades, Felicity?’

‘I never could cook,’ the captain replied. ‘Tell Squadron Leader Shuttleswade to get his wing 
ready to scramble. As soon as we make ourselves known.. ’

The cat jumped onto Captain Fitzroy’s lap. She gritted her teeth. The players were on the field, 
the white socks of war pulled up high. To the victor the spoils, she thought. ‘What’s our range, Mr 
Chumble?’

‘One moment, ma’am, if I might consult my timepiece here – yes, I do believe we’re in range!’

‘Open goal.’ Captain Fitzroy smiled. ‘Looks like the Great Annihilator needs to pay more 
attention to worldly matters. Dave, how’s the angle of dangle?’

‘Smooth as a Bach concerto.’

‘Zap him!’

Two lights shot out of the
Chimera
and swung right in the viewscreen. They arced upwards, 
almost lazily, twisted and dived into the nearest Edenite ship as fast and lethal as hawks on a rabbit. It burst in a flower of light. The next moment the explosion was gone and the glowing ruins of the warship spiralled away. A couple of what looked like sparks flew from it – escape pods – but the vessel was dead.

Dave began the course correction the moment the missiles fired. Flames erupted from the 
Chimera
’s side like cannon on an ancient battleship, and it changed course in an ink cloud of anti-radar chaff, its logic engine pre-empting the counter-attack.

‘Stick in the shins, and the centre forward leaves the field!’ Captain Fitzroy cried. ‘Bravo, men – 
bloody well done! Now prep us two more fish.’

Dave made a satisfied hissing sound. ‘Ready when you are, Felicity.’

Chumble turned. ‘I have a new reading, ma’am.’

She whipped around in her chair. ‘Where?’

‘Close, captain. I have no visual confirmation.’ Chumble shook his head. ‘It makes no sense – we 
cannot lock, and yet – Captain, it is my firm belief that we have no course but to loose those torpedoes with the very utmost of urgency!’

‘Dave, new target. Co-ordinates, Mr Chumble?’

‘None, alas!’ Chumble exclaimed.

At the bottom of the screen, horribly close, space tore itself apart. The stars warped, as though 
about to melt. Lightning burst into the darkness and, in its centre, a spacecraft appeared, covered in symbols and thrashing lengths of chain.

‘Adjust course!’ Felicity Fitzroy yelled as Chumble yanked the levers. ‘New target – all guns on 
new target!’