Space Captain Smith by Toby Frost Read Free Book Online Page B

strolled down the docking corridor to the airlock, Smith carrying his boxes of beer and tea.
    ‘Carveth!’ he called as Suruk closed the door, ‘pull off and set course for Midlight, principal landing ground. Let’s go.’
    The John Pym pulled away from New Fran, giving a flash of its spotlights to say farewell. It swung round slowly, the huge thrusters pushing it a safe distance from the colony before the supralux engines kicked in. A glow appeared at the rear of the ship, swelling up from dull red to blinding white. The Pym shot into space, and in a second New Fran was fifty miles away.
    Fifteen minutes passed.
    A second ship detached itself from the colony. It was black, ray-shaped, without hard edges or welding-lines. It was also considerably larger than the John Pym . Its name, so far as it could be translated from a mere shriek of rage, was the Systematic Destruction .
    Medium Attack-ship Captain Four Hundred And Sixty Two was sitting in his room, watching Number One conclude his speech. The television watched him back.
    There were no doors on the ship, as privacy was seen as a breeding-ground for subversion. Instead of knocking, drone 86732-4 announced his arrival by stamping loudly on the floor outside.
    ‘Mighty commander 462!’ he barked. ‘We are following the puny human vessel! Their inferior instruments have not detected us!’
    Slowly, 462’s long neck swung around. As his features came into view, a wave of awe spread over the adjutant, strongly tempered with fear. 462’s eyes focused on his minion with the intensity and kindness of headlamps. He threw back his head and shrieked with laughter.
    ‘Ah-hahaha! Good, good. And the other human craft, the battleship?’
    ‘We are being followed by a British cruiser, named the Tenacious . The human cruiser does not know we are aware of its presence. Forgive my individual thought, but I believe it expects us to attack the John Pym and is waiting for us to make the first move.’
    ‘Excellent!’ 462 rubbed his primary hands together.
    ‘Ready all weapons and prepare to execute a rapid turn. Once we have destroyed one we shall take the other as we wish.’
    ‘Yes, Captain! We shall destroy them utterly!’
    ‘Of course.’ 462’s pincer arms rose up behind him, the claws rubbing together in anticipation. ‘Prepare for war!
    Hahaha!’
    Two hours away from New Fran, Smith found a curious artefact on the floor between his chair and Carveth’s. It looked like a glass tube with a pipe sticking out the side, rather like the condensers he had used as a child in school.
    ‘What’s this for?’ he asked.
    The pilot was reading On The Road , one eye on the instruments, occasionally taking deep swigs from her tea. She turned to him, and her eyes widened. ‘That’s mine!’ she said. ‘I bought it on New Fran. It’s an… an ant-farm.’
    Smith fished in the device and found a small plastic bag.
    ‘What’re these bits of leaf in the little bag?’
    ‘They’re for the ants to eat. Obviously.’
    ‘Fair enough.’ Smith sat back and turned to his own book: Heroes of the Empire, Volume Eight . He had finished the page when a thought struck him. ‘We don’t have any ants.’
    ‘Not yet we don’t,’ Carveth said somewhat mysteriously, and took the object back from him. ‘How’s the flower lady?’
    ‘You mean our guest.’
    ‘That’s the one.’
    ‘I assume she’s fine. I was going to check on her, actually. Thought I’d make us a sandwich and see if she wants some.’
    ‘Careful. She’s probably vegetarian.’
    ‘Good point.’ Smith marked his page and left the cockpit, strolled down the corridor and knocked on Rhianna’s cabin door. There was no reply. Smith knocked on Suruk’s door.
    ‘Enter.’
    The alien was crouched on his stool, folded up like a gargoyle. His tiny eyes opened as Smith came in.
    ‘Greetings, Mazuran.’
    ‘Hello. Where’s Rhianna?’
    ‘The woman with tendrils on her head? She rests in the