CHAPTER 15
A FIFTH PROJECTILE
Each galaxy in Laniakea may elect one Senator to sit virtually or physically within the Superchamber of the Supercluster.
This Superchamber forms the political hub of the Galactic Core and is regulated by the Great Attractor presiding over Laniakea.
In addition, each galaxy may grant All-Powers to a single representative who remains influential yet distinctly autonomous of the Superchamber, its politics, and its Senators.
This focal point, its system of government, order, gravity, and time management, has stayed constant for over thirteen billion annums during our current Big Loop.
Beyond Laniakea is considered the boondocks and far less stimulating. Freedom of movement at the boundaries of this Supercluster is restricted, although a fixed refugee quota is close to agreement.
***
Sennai raised his head and smiled at the long-limbed Communications Officer. Ignorant of imminent danger he made an amiable request:
"Deluxia, I would like to speak to the whole ship. Will you put me through?"
"Yes Sir," beamed Deluxia. She wore the aquamarine livery issued to Fleet Communications personnel. Due to her elongated legs and arms, her skirt had been extended to touch the top of her knee, and each sleeve tapered further to meet her slender wrists. The only other modification to the standard uniform was a rear vent at the lower back to accommodate her sylphlike tail.
With jeweled talons she flicked a small switch amongst the myriad that lay before her. Contact was made and a faint hum on all open channels notified the crew of their Captain's imminent announcement.
"Captain Sennai, StarDate 1..." began Sennai #8, "Hellooo team. I thought I'd hold an impromptu townhall to say what a great day we're having up here..."
_____
#8 Expensive timepiece manufacture, theft, copy and resale remains big business straddling most worlds. However, if you care to consider eternity across a larger expanse, cosmic timescales are colossal and beyond even the most expensive watches. For the few horology artisans and black-market peddlers who did care, a proposal was put forth aeons ago acknowledging the inefficacy of measuring time in Old Annums. And recognizing that for ordinary Galactic Core inhabitants to converse on comparative calendars, a common universal standard must be assembled based on relative space-time, and not those dumb clocks. So, the StarDate was born: a timescale of such complex and cosmic proportions that it became much too difficult to talk of in Old Annums. So, a New Annum was conceived, which was much like the Old Annum except no one talked about it. Meanwhile, genuine and fake timepiece production continues.
_____
In that instant the ship's bridge was irradiated by a blinding burst of white light. Sennai smiled broadly - his habitual reaction to the photographer's flash. He duly struck a hump-backed bridge with his stomach strapped to the deck. The ship's deflector shields had withstood a colossal impact they were not designed for.
The ship shook. It rolled. The ship held together.
An extended muteness ensued across the inhabitants of the bridge as panicked fingers and talons wrested their nearest fixed objects.
A wide-eyed Walta broke the silence. "Captain! That was a new season Weaponify missile, Sir. Next impact due in three seconds."
"WHAT!" screamed Sennai, "Evasive action!"
This took exactly three seconds to say.
The ship shook. It rolled. But it no longer held together. The dorsal fin crowning its central column, incorporated into the blueprint as an after-thought by the ship's designers attempting to streamline its silhouette and reduce its phallic indecency, dislodged. The fin spiraled indiscriminately away to mercifully collide with the third missile. This promptly exploded, granting a fortunate crew at least nine more seconds before total annihilation.
The migrant ship, minus ancillary fin, wobbled helplessly in space. On board was a duality offering well-lit mass hysteria or lonesome panic amid the darker recesses.
"What the hell happened to the alarms!" thundered Sennai.
"You ordered me to turn them off," replied Taroooc, "...and against my instincts, I conformed."
"Next impact due in four seconds," reported Walta, relishing the moment. This was the longest form of consecutive communication he had experienced throughout the current voyage. He blew air from his bottom lip to ruffle his tapering fringe. As Navigator his routine reports, every billion kilotecs, were ignored by his colleagues, always informing them their ship was still on course and the navigational circuits remained in full control.
A four second silence ensued. Then another blinding flash, yet on this occasion no hump-backed bridge and no stomach strapping. The crew experienced a gentle rumble, a distant roar, fading to the total absence of sound. For an instant, each heartbeat drummed through their ears.
Finally, Walta reported:
"Fourth Weaponify projectile detonated one million kilotecs from ship. Fifth projectile slowing. Impact time indeterminate."
Sennai stared at him blankly.
"Projectile!" he blared. "Slowing... one mill...".
A brief pause led the remaining occupants of the ship's bridge to stare nervously at each other, questioning why they were being stared at.
"What just happened?" demanded the Captain.
No answer.
"Why did that fourth missile detonate... before it hit us?"
The quiet remained.
Perceptibly, Deluxia turned slightly in her seat. Clearing her throat, she hesitated obligingly for the rest of the crew to attend her announcement, then raised her eyebrows and announced: "So... I think that was me."
And then wished she hadn't.
Deluxia was middle-aged for her species. Although an edge-dwelling race, Terracoscienns are widely respected for their intensely fine, slender features and indefinable allure to the widest range of fauna. Possessing all these traits, Deluxia joined the Fleet as a Cadet during her earliest work-life, with direct entry to the widely diverse migrant division. After a fulfilled and commended service, she left to bear her offspring, recently returning contented, wiser and in need of a pension top-up. With an assured confidence she enjoyed her Senior Communications role, yet her unpresuming demeanor shunned herd attention and her unfamiliar discomfort at this exact moment had to be calmed by two deep breaths.
Many eyes were upon her.
"You!" exclaimed Sennai. He scanned the incredulous crew for verification, and then called out: "Supercomputer! Calculate the probability Deluxia could have stopped the fourth missile at a range of one million kilotecs."
Small speakers embedded in every facet of the bridge clicked faintly.
"Is that all?" asked Supercomputer.
"Yes!" ordered Sennai.
"Okay. The probability that Deluxia (snigger) could have stopped that missile at a range of one million kilotecs is... preparing... one chance in..."
"Captain, this is unnecessary and inconsiderate. If you will let me explain."
"I'm just checking the numbers, Deluxia."
"One chance in nine hundred and seventy-six thousand three hundred and eleven," continued Supercomputer, "and incidentally, did you know that the relationship between Deluxia's Terracoscienn binary star, the site of the explosion, and a point that the ship is about to pass through in exactly three point eight nine seconds... is a perfect equilateral triangle?"
The ship passed through the point and there was great rejoicing in Supercomputer's logic circuits.
"And did you know that the Gamma Meson tribe of..."
"Captain! Permission to cut off Supercomputer's magnetic bubbles."
"My apologies Deluxia, your time with this device will come. However, a probability nine hundred and seventy-six thousand three hundred and eleven to one, though small in terms of cosmic happenstance, does little to support your claim."
The Communications Officer was accustomed to this ignorant prejudice towards her species based on their outward appearance.
"Those are just numbers in a machine, Sir," she dismissed.
"In which case, how do you suggest you stopped the missile? Did you ask it to blow up!?"
Sennai considered his rhetorical statement to be highly droll, glancing around in expectation of conforming laughter. When none followed, he yelled:
"Supercomputer. Laugh!"
Artificial giggling and sniggering emanated from the speakers, followed with:
"Did you know sexual proclivity rates of the Gamma Meson tribes on Pendrianu Five are now zero - one reason why archaeologists believe they lost their gambling license. And in parallel, why the tribe became extinct."
"Enough!" yelled Sennai. He stared intently at Deluxia.
"Well?"
Versed in polishing away ingrained misogyny amongst numerous species, Deluxia adopted a faux naivety.
"Well, oh my gosh, let's see if I can explain it so we can all understand." she countered disarmingly.
"You claim that you asked the missile to blow up?"
"Basically yes Sir, I believe I did,"
She continued:
"Just before the first flash of light, I was moisturising my legs. Off-world from Terracoscia, regular hydration is key to our survival. Being the obnoxious colleague that he is, Taroooc winked at me. Avoiding contact with any of his three eyes, I paired my earphones to sweep sub-space radio, looking for the first Cypher Gunk #9 station I could find."
_____
#9 Across generations, rebellious teenage music routinely carries forth into middle-age and becomes mainstream. Cypher Gunk is now another derivative form of mass entertainment. Once incomprehensible lyrics are translated in real-time by a bolt-on app. A brief extract from the translator is included: Yo go fo, streaks barnet flow widya grin >> the wind is in my hair and I don't wear a frown // Brass no safe kecks, y'all in >> If I don't wear a belt my trousers will fall down // Laters mothergaters, safe lie >> Goodbye and pop one for me.
A second app is planned that tackles the translations of the first._____
"Lovely detail Deluxia. So?"
"So Captain," she sighed, "my hands were greasy due to the Gleemo-Lotz leg moisturizer, you know the stuff... no? Gleemo-Lotz, Gleemo-Lotz, you don't need stockings to hide the spots?"
"Move on," ordered Sennai impatiently.
"Fifth projectile still closing Sir. And it's not a missile. Impact time indeterminate," beamed Walta.
"Well, my hand slipped from the tuning dial, and for a moment the radio should have been in empty frequency bands, but..."
She now had the full attention of the bridge.
"But," she repeated, "it wasn't empty. There were two tiny chattering voices. One saying: Not long now, Warhead matey to which the other replied: Yes Gyro, a pleasure working with you. Life's short, and we must enjoy our twenty-five seconds. The first voice came back: Good times, always good times and total scenes with you. Nine seconds until we reach destruct.
"Deluxia, I've always admired the Terracoscienn race, and your attention to detail is striking. But what... is the point of this story?" bellowed Sennai.
"Well Sir, at this point I tried to make contact by saying: Please identify yourself. The last thing I heard was a shout of Oh shi... and the missile detonated in a blinding flash."
Deluxia peered around and considered counting the number of dental fillings on display in her colleague's open mouths. From this she understood that she better explain.
"You see, though I didn't realise it, I'd been very ingenious."
Supercomputer sniggered. Deluxia ignored and persisted.
"On maternity leave, as the triplets were growing up, I read an article in Galactic Heat Megamagazine, 21 Things That Every Modern Comms Officer Should Know. One was, if you wished to stop a Weaponify Cruize Missile #10 hurtling towards you at half a million kilotecs per second...
_____
#10 The Weaponify Corporation, controversial manufacturers of Cruize Missiles and Occasional Kill Weapons, established their corporate HQ concealed at the boundary of a black hole. This is viewed as an attempt to evade attack from unhappy clients leasing the company's faulty products.
_____
"Wait..."
"Please let me finish Captain. Weaponify's self-destruct password is 'Pliz I, Dent I, Ff I, Yaw Zelf', which apparently is Centaurian rhyming slang. #11"
This was too much for Sennai and he was now gaping. Three two one. His brain returned control of his lower jaw and he used it.
"Ok, I've heard enough for now."
Deluxia smiled, nodded towards the rest of the crew, and returned to her communications console, her tail flicking satisfactorily side to side.
Sennai spun his huge chair back to stare at the vast screen.
"Amazing Deluxia. Cocktails all round, I think. Security, please pick Bleep and Booster up from the floor."
Two protection robots hummed from the corner of the bridge to extract the ship's First and Second Officer Cadets, who had fainted at the first flash of light.
_____
#11 Drawing a marketing cue from expensive perfumes, Weaponify's missiles are impressively boxed and gift wrapped. Taking the customer experience a notch further, they employ Duplicated Voice Synthesis, endowing cute voices to their integrated warhead and tracking gyroscopics whilst they communicate in flight. A design flaw has emerged across the most recent upgrade. The default password allotted to initiate missile self-destruct is similar, phonetically, to the official opening command stipulated for migrant ship Communicators, namely: Please Identify Yourself. Should these chatty warhead and gyroscopic modules target a ship employing a Communications Officer wielding leg moisturiser, the likelihood persists that 26% of missiles fired will self-destruct before consummation. Irritatingly, all warheads that can talk are very chatty, and a growing minority of Communications Officers are sourced from the long-limbed Terracoscienn race. This is another reason Weaponify's headquarters are shrouded by a black hole._____
Walta waited for his complimentary cocktail to be in hand before reporting the next slice of information.
Sennai sat back and sighed. He relished these minor success moments leading to the excuse for a drink.
"Captain," started the ship's Navigator.
"Yes Walta?"
"Fifth projectile just one hundred kilotecs away. Still heading towards us. About to come into view."
With no time to react or respond, an object appeared on the immense AR-screen stretching before them. Instant measurements of weight and size flicked across its form.
The bridge floor became wet as several crew members spat out their refreshments. Sennai was the first to regain control of his lower jaw.
"It's a giant egg!" he exclaimed.