You, Me, We Are All Mistakes

14. STARDATE 1, LANIAKEA

"Jip jip. Wap wap."
"Jip jip. Wap wap."

The ship's alarm was talking, and it grated on Sennai's nerves.

"What are we going to do? What are we going to do!" panicked the First Officer Cadet.

"We're going to die!" assured the Second.

"Quiet!" hissed Sennai, glaring contemptuously at his two new reports.

They were both very young, sported the same crew-cut jet black hair, huge eyes, and had been assigned to his bridge for Galactic Fleet work experience. A matter in which he was given no choice and thoroughly resented. Beyond their generic titles, he privately named them Bleep and Booster and customarily looked straight through them when he spoke.

"Will someone please turn off the alarm."

"Captain, the Assessed Anxiety Factor has increased by four point two," reported Taroooc, the ship's heavyset Chief Wellness Officer. All Delta Nebulans possess a stocky gene, hypervigilance to potential threats, an overactive sex drive, and three eyes: two set very wide in a broad forehead, plus an extra that has evolved to the back of the skull.

Taroooc turned to view his Captain in stereo.

"Say that again," ordered Sennai.

"Four point two," Taroooc replied, his third eye winking at the Communications Officer seated behind him.

"No, not that," said Sennai, "your first word."

"Sorry Sir, you mean... Captain?" repeated the baffled Delta Nebulan.

"Ah," sighed Sennai, "Captain. C A P T... E N..."

He never could spell.

Yet this did nothing to deter Sennai's own self-publicity.

For Deutronimus Karben Sennai, commanding a heavily armed ship of the Galactic Fleet was a pure joy and well-deserved outcome, even one crewed by the requisite high quota of hotchpotch Laniakea migrants. He was at ease with the role, and piloting an armed vessel was not an entirely new experience #6.

"Collision course still set, Captain," reported the ship's Navigator.

Walta Woppedd wore his burgundy tunic with matching collar buttoned tight to the neck revealing just a tip of cravat. This being his first tour of duty as a newly graduated Galactic Fleet Navigator, he was thoroughly exhilarated. His teenage brush with celebrity had freed him from the bullying throes of school and since bestowed on him bleached fair hair that departed the side of his head horizontally. These tresses perched above pointed ears, then curled up in formation to meet on the crown in a majestic rolling wave, cascading down over his forehead to a sharp point, held firm with patented spray. His uniform trousers might cut low hedges with their sharply ironed creases.

"Ah," sighed Sennai as the alarm faded, "Captain."

It had taken seven annums to attain this insignia and he savoured hearing the prefix. It acted as a light petting of his ego.

_____

#6 Growing up in a predominantly criminal patriarchy, Sennai became the youngest juvenile to hot-wire an Off-World Combat Cruiser at the age of just nine. Already a budding egotist he demanded to be addressed only as Supreme Commander Sennai via Holochat, loosely threatening to disintegrate a nearby over-populated planet. The regional police and Universal Bureau of Investigation finally ensnared him two days before his tenth birthday and were unable to press charges, with the young Sennai keeping below the age of criminal responsibility. Various influential and law-abiding citizens were aggrieved by this, and a nearby over-populated planet was disintegrated to allow them and the press to move on.

"Anxiety Factor returning to normal sir," reported the Wellness Officer, tapping his finger on Confirm to silence the alert.

"Thank you Taroooc. You are indeed Wellness personified."

"Forty-five-degree deviation accomplished, Sir. We maintain our collision course," chirped Walta, cushioning the left side of his hair extensions with a cupped palm.

"Ah..." sighed Sennai quietly, "...Sir."

***

Fleet Migrant Ship GCF-10068 cruised ahead.

It took the form of a colossal lollipop with three large, threadbare fins mounted at its rear. Its great frontal sphere was dotted with lights, glyphs, scars, and portal windows in need of exhaustive jet-washing. These tokens continued along the vast central column that sported a much smaller dorsal fin, and on to the Krystaltachyon propulsion units. Vast superluminal engines glowed green as the ship powered forward.

In the inky black vacuum of space there was nothing closer than ten million kilotecs.

Out in the emptiness, precisely ten million kilotecs away, five sleek projectiles hurtled towards the ship at a speed just over half a million kilotecs per second #7.

Four of them would hit the ship in less than 30 seconds.

#7 According to a naïve someone, somewhere, this speed is deemed three times faster than any beam of light can possibly be ridden.