Chapter Twenty-Two
RESPITE
"What is that annoying cow up to?"

In the luxurious Deluxe Guest Quarters(tm) aboard the Decimater the Observer massages a sore wrist, watching through the view port as the form of the disabled Abrogate grows larger. The cabin door whisks open and the Observer turns, wanting to know who would intrude upon this private moment.

"Hi," greets a familiar voice.

The Observer grunts acknowledgment, then returns to gaze out the window.

"There it is," affirms Flinnff, standing at the bridge view port. "It's survived the shock wave, but that much damage isn't exactly a positive sign for the crew."

Itchtrong moves up next to him, followed by Snoyan. The battle weary, blackened bow of the Abrogate is clearly visible.

"Increase speed," Itchtrong says, addressing the helmsman.

Snoyan studies Itchtrong for a moment. "Let me know when we have contact," she says, then turns abruptly and, in a flurry, leaves the bridge.

The War Buzzard(tm) skitters through space, its stabilizers misfiring badly. Gladius keeps punching the manual reset, but the controls fail to respond. He looks over at the sombre South, winces.

"What the hell's been going on here, Sally?"

"Yeah," chimes Geronimo, perking up.

South sneers at them, his arms folded firmly across his chest, considering the situation: why would Itchtrong commit cold blooded murder, fail to conduct a rescue, and how did he know about Snax Mawhoooba? He rubs a hand across his face. "It seems I'm not the only one guilty of some covert activities."

"What do you mean?" asks Slate.

"The colonel you saw, Itchtrong's his name, wasn't associated with our initial plan. He didn't know about the snitch we planted with you, at least not through us. You say you saw him welcome Mawhoooba aboard his ship?"

"If you could call it a welcome," offers Geronimo. "He also seemed kinda chummy with some other jerk––"

"––and then he popped him off," interjects Gladius. "It was an assassination."

South narrows his eyes. Geronimo's knee resumes pumping.

Gladius tries again to tame the misbehaving War Buzzard(tm). The nose of the ship swings around bringing the wounded Abrogate into view, and the massive Decimater approaching from beyond. "Looks like we've got a couple of Battle Accelerator HyperCraft heading for a link up."

South begins to rise, but Geronimo prods him back into his seat with the Intensifier.

"The damaged one is the Abrogate," Salata says, a pulse of heat coursing through his scar, "the other ship is the Decimater."

"Your psycho colonel's ship?" Geronimo asks.

"Yes. Seems he finally decided it was time to respond. We should board the Abrogate, be there to confront that bastard," suggests South, trying not to make it sound like an order.

"We'll join them all right," Gladius says, "but I'd rather not go mingling with a bunch of murdering Hornheads. Is there another way into the Abrogate, some kind of back door?"

"They'll detect us on their scanners."

"Perhaps, but I doubt it. The electromagnetic pulse of that explosion is playing havoc with our electronics, odds are theirs are acting up, too. Otherwise, they would've nailed us by now."

Salata concedes the point.

"Besides," Gladius continues, "you said yourself that something is wrong with this whole situation. Sounds to me like there are several agendas at play."

South's scar is now a deep, ruby red. He absently traces a finger over its hardened ridge, trying to contain his frustration.

"Give us another way in, Sally, one where we can enter undetected."

Geronimo studies his ex-boss, relieved at his improved attitude, but shudders at the thought of traipsing into yet another nasty confrontation with gun-toting maniacs.

"If, as you say, their electronics are misbehaving, then we'll only remain undetected as long as nobody happens to look out a view port," South points out.

"Look around," Geronimo says. They glance outside, observe the massive amount of drifting debris from the destruction of the grid and three Battle Accelerator HyperCraft(tm). "They aren't gonna be able to pick us out from all this other crap. And personally, I'd rather not become a permanent fixture in this floatin' graveyard, so tell us how to get in, or we'll chuck you out."

"What's it going to be?" Gladius asks, turning to Captain South. "Are we going to get this entire mess over with or do we drift out here, firing on one AttiTooter, forever?"

The scar throbs. South stares straight ahead, focused on a point in space midway across the cabin. Finally, he relents. "Get us down under the port side of the Abrogate. There's a cargo bay. That area of the ship is badly damaged, there won't be any personnel around. It's the only other way in besides the front door, and I'd say Itchtrong is using that one. If this heap has any pressure suits, and if we can get the damn door open, we can traverse inside."

Itchtrong paces the aft deck of the Decimater, waiting for his crew to finish securing the Flexi-Ramp(tm), a rigid yet flexible gangway with minimal artificial gravity, to the Abrogate.

Lieutenant Flinnff enters the room, gesturing for the Colonel to come closer. "Snoyan has the surveillance to the Deluxe Guest Quarters blocked. We still have no idea who her company is."

"Damn. What is that annoying cow up to?" Snoyan enters and Itchtrong snaps his head up, breaking a broad smile. "High Commander Supreme, they're securing the Flexi-Ramp now. We should be able to board the Abrogate in moments."

"Good. Hopefully Major Wu Su has survived and can fill in the gaps for us."

"We're secure, sir," informs an ensign.

"Open the airlock! Lieutenant Flinnff, you have the command."

Five uniformed Frak Craks appear, armed and ready for action. Snoyan eyes them suspiciously. "Don't you think medical personnel would be more appropriate?"

"We must ensure the integrity of the ship first," informs Itchtrong, with forced authority. "For all we know they may have been infiltrated."

Snoyan holds a steady gaze at Itchtrong. "Wise move."

"Major Wu Su," Lieutenant Ginjee calls from the airlock porthole, "the ramp is secure and they're coming across now."

"Good, we should prepare for immediate transfer of Vice-Admiral Ragellon. He's in a grave state. I want you to remain with him, Lieutenant, make sure he's taken care of, and help with the administration of our other wounded."

"Right away, sir." Ginjee signals for the two ensigns, who have just finished cleaning up the entranceway, to follow her as she moves out toward the Abrogate's sick bay.

Wu Su crosses the airlock, skirting the wet spot. He nods for one of his men to open the door.

WHHSSSHHH!

The pressure equalizes and the hatch cycles open.

The Major steps back abruptly, startled at the rapid influx of the five Frak Craks armed for action. The few Abrogate crew members present jump, pressing to the walls, hands raised. Finally, Colonel Itchtrong appears, followed by High Commander Supreme Snoyan.

Major Wu Su recovers his composure and offers a less-than-snappy salute to his superiors. "High Commander Supreme Snoyan, Colonel Itchtrong," he says, forcing a smile, "welcome aboard the Abrogate, or at least what's left of it."

"Major," nods Snoyan, eyeing the grim condition of the officer and his crew. She wrinkles her nose at the lingering smell of Cleanerschmidt's demise. "You've looked better."

The barrel-chested Wu Su brushes at dust on his uniform, tries to smooth some wrinkles.

"Can you tell us what happened to the Pulverizer, Expunger and Annihilator?" Snoyan continues.

"Certainly, but could we transport the wounded to the Decimater's AutoDocs first, our systems are malfunctioning. We have many critically injured, particularly Vice-Admiral Ragellon."

Itchtrong glances to Snoyan, back to Wu Su. "Ragellon is alive?"

"For the moment. But I fear that if he doesn't receive immediate medical attention he will pass beyond the point-of-no-return."

Lieutenant Ginjee appears in the hatchway, she leads the two ensigns and, on a Hover Gurney(tm), the fading form of Ragellon. Behind her is a straggling line of limping, battered crew members.

"We're ready to transport the Vice-Admiral," she reports.

"Good." Itchtrong nods to one of the Frak Craks. "Escort the Lieutenant to the Decimater's sick bay."

The Frak Crak salutes, then begins down the Flexi-Ramp(tm) followed by Ginjee, the gurney, and the Abrogate's walking wounded.

POOONG!

The crippled War Buzzard(tm), its power system fluctuations worsening, bumps gently against the blackened belly of the Abrogate.

"That's it, boys," remarks Gladius, "this bird is cooked."

The three occupants quickly pull on Sudden-Emergency Adjustable Pressure Suits(tm). Geronimo slips off his cape, then reattaches it to the helmet mount of his suit. He slings the Prompt O'Sting(tm) pole across his back, re-holsters the two Hand Cannons(tm) and picks up the Intensifier Musket(tm).

"Once we're depressurized," South begins, "I'll lead our unit along the hull to the cargo hatch. There, we'll secure our position, broach that, then secede within."

"What?!" Geronimo aims the Intensifier at Salata.

"He means we're going to scramble to the hatch, blow it, and get inside," translates Slate. He turns to South, leans into the Captain's face. "But there is no way he's going to lead us, 'cause I just don't trust him for that."

"What do you suggest, Slate?" South's scar is heating up once more.

"I'll go first, you in the middle, then Geronimo will follow. That way you can't sneak off and signal them."

"I need to enter discreetly, the same as you. Itchtrong is up to something and its my duty to find out what, before he endangers any more lives." South snaps his helmet visor down then switches on the suit Commucon Stay-Close(tm). He waits for Slate and Lavoriss to do the same. "The Colonel has murdered many people in the pursuit of what appears to be personal gain," he says over the com-link, "and I intend to see him punished for it."

Slate ignores Salata's impassioned rambling and steps to the airlock. Shouldering the BIGGER GUN(tm), he glances back to Lavoriss and South. "Give him the musket, Geronimo."

"No way! He'll just shoot us."

"I don't think so," Gladius says, locking eyes with South, "he needs us now. Give it to him, Geronimo."

Lavoriss looks to the military officer, shrugs his shoulders in a gesture of submission, and hands the musket to him. He then quickly draws one of his Hand Cannons(tm) and trains it on South, waiting for any aggressive moves.

Gladius shakes his head. "Steady yourselves, boys, I'm going to depressurize… and let's keep the radio chatter to a minimum." He punches a couple of buttons on the airlock panel.

SSSSSSSSSSS! PING!

The cabin atmosphere adjusts to resemble the void outside. Without hesitation, Gladius toggles the hatch open. Grasping the door frame he eases himself out into the zero gravity, dwarfed by the immensity of the Mark II Battle Accelerator HyperCraft(tm).