Raven Revenge: Ariel Hope Chronicles 4 Page 2
“Hahaha, infighting; I love it! Anyhow, back to business. As I was able to hear your not so private conversation, then yes, Pedro, I shall take you up on your kind offer to give us the tricycle trikes in exchange for your freedom!”
Billy Duke screams until he’s hoarser than a motor racing commentator at a 3 week, 10,000 lap grand prix around snow topped mountains with dangerous hairpins and pit stops like ice rinks.
“Never, do you understand, you dirty alien face!”
Barry remains calm while touching his piraty swords and laser sticks.
Billy Duke removes his mini ray gun.
Barry’s fearsome image appears on screen, replacing Patricia in the blink of a piraty eye.
She is not impressed.
“Oy!”
Ignoring her protest, Barry seeks out the Duke, his roving, deep black eyes the picture of dastardly malice.
“Which of you is the poop gob, eh? Eh?”
The Duke quickly hides his mini ray gun.
Woody Carson, helpful as ever, answers the less than nice alien.
He points to the Duke.
Immediately realising his schoolboy error, he whispers a quick apology to the growling but terrified Billy Duke, before rushing to the toilet.
Barry Longface points to Billy.
“So, you want to fight with me, eh? Eh?!!”
The Duke wobbles in fear but manages to stand his ground.
“Well, we are 2 grown adults so there’s no need for these childish war games, is there? Of course, I am as fearless as they come but have no need for childish things!”
The rest of the gang nod in silent, fearful approval.
Except Woody, who’s cacking his under crackers in a cruiser water closet.
Patricia tries to look on but Barry blocks her view.
She skips to a side screen to join the warmongering merriment.
“Go on, Billy Duke, fight the long faced manky old duffer!”
Billy’s practicing pirate eye jigs with anxiety.
“Shut up, you crazy woman; I’m being diplomatic, getting in practice for when I’m a diplomat, like!”
“I am female AI; it is different from a woman. I have seen more diplomacy in a starving lioness with 3 hungry cubs, chasing an overweight gazelle. Billy Duke, now is the time for you to prove to me you are a man worthy of my grudging respect!”
As Barry Longface stares down in amusement, a quaking Billy Duke knows his time has come.
He will face the fearsome pirate and prove his worth.
Or, he will die in a horrible, squirming, messy way.
He calls up to Barry.
“I accept your challenge!”
Barry grins, his facial scars dancing in menacing mirth.
“What challenge?”
“A fight to see who is the best fighter!”
“I already know; it is I.”
“Prove it, alien face!”
“You prove it, stinky old goat!”
“Come aboard and I will take you down with my mini ray gun hahaha!”
“On my way; get the tricycle trikes ready for collection!”
“No way, weirdo!”
*
Billy Duke waits at the side entrance as Barry Longface docks his freighter in the interlocking one size fits all, cruiser docking station.
Upon requesting backup, the remaining gang members just shook their straggly haired heads, cast downward glances and left their leader to his fate.
So much for musketeer mentality.
The door slides open with a quiet whoosh.
The Duke is faced with the most massively tall space pirate he could ever imagine, armed with a pair of 2 feet long curved swords, like a character from a vicious space pirate movie film.
Billy Duke swallows hard.
Despite the overwhelming odds, he will not go down without a fight.
Aiming his mini ray gun at Barry’s chest, he screams a battle cry.
“Pew! Pew! Pow! Pow! Take that, alien features!”
The laser traces are easily blocked in an astonishing feat of martial swordplay, each swish of an arm accompanied by a mocking grin.
Billy Duke drops the weapon. It still works but his fingers are hurting.
Barry peers down with eyes as dark as a rare pirate’s black pearl.
“And now, I shall finish you off, Earthling!”
Replacing his swords in their jewel-encrusted scabbards, Barry flips out a laser stick and proceeds to shred each piece of the Duke’s clothing until he stands in nothing but his under crackers.
“Ah, so it’s a lie! I was told you Earthling wannabe warriors went bare under your clothes!”
A shivering Duke quietly sets the record straight.
“That was just in Scotland, a long time ago. At weddings, and battles, and other important occasions.”
“Never mind. Fetch me the tricycle trikes! It is my treasure!”
“Not likely, sunshine! They’re mine, all mine!”
“Fetch them before I laser-remove your under crackers and expose you for the fake warrior fraud you are!”
The Duke’s on the verge of tears as he realises his only option is to agree, but he needs assurances he can save face in front of the rest of his useless gang.
“You may take the tricycle trikes on 1 condition, that I may get dressed and ruffle my hair and put some muck on my face so it looks like I endured a long, hard and extremely dangerous battle!”
“It’s a deal; now hurry up!”
*
Back on his freighter, with 3 new, freshly pirated glorious machines, Barry Longface enjoys a victory chat with Larry.
“Well that was the easiest wealth nab I ever had the fortune of attending!”
“What, no fearsome wolf packs attacked you?”
“No, just some strange, straggly scruffy oaf armed with a pea shooter.”
“We need to stop these little freighter lane raids, Barry; save our strength.”
“Whatever for? I love these little distractions!”
“I have heard of a new job coming up, a massive earner.”
“Go on, Larry.”
“A kidnapping.”
“Hahaha, that should be easy peasy! Who is it?”
“It isn’t just 1 person, Barry; it’s the entire population of a planet!”
Chapter Three
Planet Whistler (Still in the wrong place)
Kenny, Denny, and Lenny rush to City Square to find Gobby Johnny, who at this moment is supervising marching drill practice for the Spacies under his command.
The new recruits look splendid in their brand new, space 2-piece uniforms in dark blue, the large ‘S’ on their shirt fronts signifying their membership to Whistler’s elite youth club.
It is Whistler’s only youth club, its residents previously being required to work from the age of 3.
Although no Earth-born children have shown interest so far, Johnny is proud of the large numbers.
Anything’s better than being a child slave down the Sparkling Minerals Mine.
Johnny spots Lenny first, breathless as he breaks away from his brothers with 10 yards to go.
“Gob...er, Johnny, I bring news from Mr Senior!”
Johnny eyes his Whistler friend with suspicion.
“You mean Mr Whistler Senior; let us not forget he is the older brother of the former dastardly tyrannical ruler!”
“Yes, that’s the one; he wishes to see you.”
“Well, that may be so, but as you can see, I am extremely busy. Anyway, why does it take 3 of you to deliver a message?”
Lenny does not hesitate in delivering his smart, snappy reply.
“We get on so well nowadays, we want to keep the momentum!”
“Can’t this meeting wait until this lot have mastered the ‘about turn’?”
Kenny dips his head slightly to the right while tapping a finger on the side of his nose, all the while never losing eye contact with Johnny.
“This marching is e
xcellent, I am sure Gob...er, Johnny, but I believe Mr Senior has something grander in mind!”
“Oh, fiddlesticks! I was so enjoying the marching practice. Lead the way.”
The Spacies just stand there until Johnny remembers they wait on his every order.
“Spacies...faaalll OUT!”
As Johnny walks away, the youngsters start arguing with each other, their collective voices squealing and pitching like birdsong following a vicious storm.
He turns back.
“STOP! Not fall out as in bring disharmony to the ranks, I meant you are free to get on with your business for the day!”
He shakes his head.
The pressures of command.
*
Johnny walks into the office of Mr Whistler Senior, deep underground in the Sparkling Minerals Mine.
Mr Senior has just finished his minerals theft for the day, sitting contentedly, hands behind his neck, long spindly fingers playing with a thin tuft of white hair.
“Ah, Gob...er, Johnny, come in, come in; splendid to see you after such an absence!”
“I was here yesterday.”
“Ah, yes, memory’s not what it was; take a seat, splendid young man.”
“You wanted to see me?”
“Yes, well, you know, you and I, we see things others do not, do we not?”
He taps the side of his nose for emphasis.
“Well, er, perhaps we are just more in tune with the Universe, Mr Senior.”
Of course, all of Johnny Hope’s information comes from The Book of Space, though he will never share that with anyone but his own father.
“Nonsense, young man. We are different from the rest. The time is approaching, when this planet will be in grave danger and it will be down to seers such as you and me to ensure protection and continuity.”
“I never knew you were a seer; I thought you just invented things that never work.”
Mr Whistler smiles the smile of a kindly old man.
A kindly old man who loves to steal from his own citizens.
“It is time to arm your Spacies!”
“But why? They are just a cadet organisation, dedicated to improve their self-discipline and to enhance and advance social cohesion!”
“Listen to me, and listen to me carefully. We shall soon face an invasion force of catastrophic proportions, and unmatched in their ferocity.”
Johnny looks suitably alarmed.
“By who?”
“They shall attack, coming from a planet far, far away. I don’t know their names, but my seeriness insists it is a fact!”
“Your brother is a space tyrant; I am not sure I should be fully trusting you, sir.”
“We are vastly different, like light and darkness.”
“Good. By golly, I shall approach my father at once; Admiral hope needs to know about this!”
“Be warned, young man, that your father will resist such an unusual request. In the case of total failure, you need to arm them yourself, using cunning craftiness!”
Johnny understands.
He looks to Mr Senior in awe.
“You mean, using guile? I always wanted to use that!”
“Exactly, young man. That is all; do not mention this meeting. Goodbye.”
*
Mr Whistler Senior’s gigantic lie is as close to the truth than he can ever hope to imagine. He grabs the top secret machine to send a message to his younger brother.
Mr Whistler.
“Yes?”
“I have set the plan in motion.”
“What plan?”
“To arm our youth in readiness for your glorious return, once our planet has bounced back to its usual position.”
“I thought you said that Admiral Hope idiot has installed top notch defences and vastly increased his fleet?”
“Fake news, I am afraid, younger brother. I have seen no evidence of any increase in spaceships or personnel. It appears Admiral Hope has been lying to me all along.”
“Fine. Let me know once they are armed and I shall return to annihilate the Earthling scum and reclaim my rightful role as leader and slave master!”
“Where are you now?”
“Do not worry about me, older brother; I roam the outer reaches of Minstrels, conjuring new and dastardly tyrannical plans!”
The top secret machine issues a warning.
“You have 1 message each left; use it wisely.”
“Bye, then.”
“Bye.”
Chapter Four
Bump Minor
Ronald calls Percy into his office.
The initial fear that his dodgy dealings have been exposed, rapidly disintegrates as he sees his father’s weekend bag by his side.
“Percy, I have just now received an urgent summons to an intergalactic arms dealers’ meeting over in the Bounty galaxy, uncomfortably close to the Longfaces and Widenecks I’m afraid but there you go; into the giant space lion’s den and all that.”
Percy’s eyes do a merry jig.
“And no dodgy dealings while I am away, young man; do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, father.”
“Right, well, I shall be off then. Oh, by the way, I shall be taking your new Explorer; mine’s in a bit of a state.”
“But, father, you can’t; it’s mine, all mine!”
Ronald points a serious finger.
“Now you listen to me. If it was not for me, you would not have been born, you ungrateful nincompoop! I shall return it to you on my return. And do not worry, I shall compensate you for the rental.”
At the mere thought of more dosh, Percy relents gracefully.
Like he has a choice.
“As you wish, father.”
Turning on his heel, Percy vows to get rid of the old man as leader as soon as possible.
Yes, a rotten, stinking gene must have mutated into something even more stinking and rotten somewhere along the line.
Minstrels galaxy (Heading to Bump Minor)
Alex pings through to Ariel.
“We need stupid speed for 2 seconds; the ice storm’s receding for sure so we should be okay.”
Harriet chirps in before Ariel has a chance.
“Should be, would be, could be; any chance of a little less ambiguity, Alex?”
Ariel snaps at her snarky AI.
“Harry, shut up. May I remind you, your job is to support our fleet, not continuously make unhelpful suggestions when fast decisions are the order of the day!”
“Sorry, Ariel.”
Harry pouts.
Ariel ignores her.
“Okay, Alex. Stevie, did you read that?”
“Loud and clear, Captain Hope.”
Alex shares the coordinates.
“NOW!”
*
Stevie Lo doesn’t feel well.
After pulling his whipped-back face into shape, he feels sick and dizzy.
Alex checks on the mini fleet.
“Everyone okay back there?”
“No, I don’t feel well; I’m asking Yvette to take over.”
There’s no response from Yvette, not even the minutest hint of a lovely singy songy syllable.
He turns around to see Yvette lying still on the floor.
There’s no panic in Stevie’s voice.
He doesn’t have the energy.
He can barely move.
“Pierre, take over the controls please.”
“Yes, monsieur Captain.”
Ariel’s concerned.
“Stevie, what’s going on over there?”
“Ariel, I need help. I can barely move and Yvette has collapsed.”
“Okay, sit tight. I’ll dock and Poppy can take control.”
Professional, detached, textbook response.
“Harry, set docking procedure with Beta 4.”
“Yes, Captain.”
Wow, even Harry’s showing respect.
Something serious is going down.
*
Ariel ent
ers Beta 4 to find Stevie and Yvette unconscious.
“Pierre, have you checked all ship systems for pressure and poisons?”
“Yes, Captain, all clear. It appears to be a virus. The only contact they have had which has been different is with Larry Longface; could have caught something from him.”
She helps Poppy make the duo comfortable in the sick bay.
“Pierre, liaise with a medi droid, and keep Poppy informed of any change. She’ll be in charge until we reach Bump Minor.”
“Yes, Captain.”
“Poppy, I’m taking Beta 2 in separately.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
*
“Alex? Stevie and Yvette have collapsed; do you have a hospital on Bump Minor?”
“For sure we do, Ariel; it’s only small though.”
“There are only 2 of them.”
“I meant, we don’t have many illnesses back home so the, how shall I call it, the expertise is lacking somewhat.”
“Well never mind that for now; hopefully it will be a short-term flu virus or something.”
Harry’s right eyebrow threatens to touch the top of the screen.
“Ariel, they are unconscious, not suffering from a sniffling nose.”
“Harry, once we reach Bump Minor, I swear you are having lessons in diplomacy and propriety with Pierre. I am well aware of the gravity of the situation, thank you!”
Sensibly, Harry stays quiet.
Her eyebrow, however, descends in an exaggerated, unhurried display of rebelliousness, like a bolshy bodybuilder eking out his last bicep curl as the gym lights go out at closing time.
It’s a worrying time.
Maybe that mankily massive pirate, Larry Longface, will have the last laugh after all.
Alex feels a warming of his heart as he nears his home planet, mixed with a not so slight feeling of anxiety. He has not returned with riches but at least the Explorer’s intact and he still has the weapons chips.
Oh, and 2 more spaceships and a couple of unconscious crew needing urgent hospital treatment.
“Ariel, Poppy, set up and follow my angle; we’re about to enter low orbit.”
*
“What the...?”
Percy looks to the sky in disbelief as Betas 2 and 4 come into view. Signalling violently with waving arms to Bump Minor Control, he demands answers.