Philip Palmer - Hell Ship

It occurred to me that I had certain clandestine personal reasons for wanting Albinia on this mission with me; and I was delighted at my own unsuspected subterfuge.

Our craft reached the outer atmosphere of the bright purple gas giant; and we looked down at the swirling winds below.

“Are you still inhabiting Explorer?” I asked Albinia.

“Yes.”

“Whilst operating the simulacrum.”

“Yes.”

“And do you have, perhaps, enough reserves of consciousness remaining to engage in idle chat?”

“No.”

“As I feared.”

The landing craft descended; we were held in position by our stay-still fields, as the vessel rocked and shook. The hull was being buffeted by powerful gales and seared with toxic gases, but the craft’s force-mantle protected it entirely. The electronic eyes on the craft’s hull looked deep into the wild screaming madness of the atmosphere, and Albinia saw it all too.

“ How do they endure this place?” I marvelled, using a murmur-link to connect directly to Albinia.

“ It is, strangely, magnificent, ” Albinia said and smiled. And then the smile faded and she was, once more, off in a world of her own, barely aware of me.

I looked at the view from my tiny porthole, a maelstrom of heat and burning gases, and I felt nauseous. Outside the craft, the pressure was so great it would crush a space suit and condense an Olaran body to the size of a crumb, if we had been so foolish as to go for a walk.

Thus, through air as thick as ice, we fell downwards, until, finally, we were in the midst of the alien flock.

These creatures-the Prismas-were spawned of gas and plasma, yet somehow (the physics entirely eluded me) nevertheless existed in squat asymmetrical solid and eyeless form that could survive without a spacesuit in the atmosphere of a gas giant.

According to Phylas, these strange beings could act like suns-creating metals out of their own substance, and then weaving them into spaceships. Thus, their drone ships were spawned like eggs; and their “missiles” were not mere artefacts, they were in effect, cells discharged from the Prisma host bodies.

“Can understand us you?” said a voice over our radio net. I looked outside the porthole; and I could see a hundred Prismas hovering in the air like fat turds with mouths all around us. This was as near as our species could get to each other; the Prismas could not survive in our atmosphere; and we would not be able to see or hear a thing in their atmosphere. So we would have to talk to them from within the landing craft.

“Yes we can,” I said, peering out and wondering which Prisma I was talking to.

“Living are creatures you?”

“We are living creatures.”

“You travelled space have? Through.”

“We have travelled through space.”

“Whole tendrils of a are you?”

“We are not tendrils of a whole; we are the whole. We are creatures of flesh and blood. We do not exist as you do, as creatures of gas and, er, stuff.”

“Impossible.”

“It is possible. There are many varied kinds of life.”

“Rocks are you. Excreta are you. Are worthy not to talk with us.”

“We have to talk with you. We owe you this.”

“Where is the planet from which you come?” said the Prisma. Our translator was, I noticed with some relief, finally getting the hang of the creature’s syntax.

“Far far away. You cannot reach it.”

“Can it be inhabited by our kind?”

“You cannot reach it.”

“It can be inhabited by our kind?”

“No, and you cannot reach it.”

“You have no idea who we are. We are the most powerful and fearsome creatures in all the universe.”

You are, I thought to myself, a bunch of arrogant fucks; and then I realised my murmur-talk device had translated this into speech.

I switched off my communicator and turned to Albinia.

“What do you think?”

“Something is happening.”

“What?”

“I don’t know. Something.”

I turned on my communicator and spoke again to the Prisma:

“We are here to trade; do you understand that concept?”

“You have come from far away; how? What ships do you possess? Are you long-lived?”

“We give you a thing; you give us a thing. It’s called trade. Do you understand this concept?”

“We have sent spaceships into farthest space; they have never returned. Can you explain this?”

“Well, it’s a dangerous universe out there.”

“We are the most fearsome species in existence; no harm could come to creatures such as us. Our voyagers were told to conquer and destroy and then return to fetch us. That was ten thousand years ago; and they are late. And we are full of wrath.”

Albinia and I exchanged glances; this wasn’t looking too promising.

“Be that as it may,” I continued to the Prisma, “let’s talk a bit more about this concept of ‘trade.’

“You see,” I continued, getting into the swing of it now, “you have the ability to create metal artefacts with the power of your thoughts, and we could maybe sell stuff like that. Whereas we-”

“Perhaps the journey was too long, and they died. We long to travel swiftly among the stars, rather than being trapped at sub-light speeds. Can you do that? Journey faster than light?”

“We can.”

“Can you teach us how?”

“We could certainly give you some hints,” I temporised.

“Then we can ‘trade,’ ” said the Prisma.

Albinia patted my arm. I switched off my communicator. “Yes?”

“Firstly, these creatures are a bunch of dangerous fucking lunatics,” she pointed out, quite accurately. “Secondly, I’m detecting some kind of weapon. Don’t know what. It involves the planet, and the sun, and a fleet of-something nasty. I think they’re aiming to attack Explorer again.”

“What should I do?” I asked her, for though I was Master-of-the-Ship, I trusted her judgement totally.

She thought, for a brief moment, with her merged-with-Explorer face, then a cold look came upon her.

“They’re bastards; let’s fuck ’em,” she said.

And so we fucked ’em.

I triggered the self destruct switch.

And our landing craft exploded; and obliterated into particles so small they could not be assimilated by the Prismas.

And then a searing wave of heat from the explosion ripped through the alien creatures, sundering them into a billion wave-lets.

And then-as I was later told-in orbit above the planet, the Prisma battle fleet emerged from the shadow of their moon and launched a massive attack upon Explorer.

At the same time, Prisma drone ships leaped from hiding places amidst the gas giant’s rings and rained missiles and heat-energy upon Explorer, drenching its forcefields.

However, Explorer’s shields deflected the enemy’s beams and missiles with ease; and it then counter-attacked, using its disruptor ray at full capacity; and the entire Prisma fleet was obliterated in an instant.

And all that was left was a swirl of random atoms in space.

For such is the power of Olara; we do not seek war, but when we fight, we always win.

At about this time, I woke up on my simulacrum bench. And I staggered to my feet and saw that Albinia’s skin was close to burning point; steam was rising from it. The simulated experience of being burned alive on the planet was manifesting as actuality on her real body.

I doused her with cooling spray, just as she woke up, and screamed with agony. Then I cradled her, as Phylas entered.

He turned ashen at the sight of Albinia.

“She’ll be fine,” I snapped. It had been my idea to take Albinia with me on this mission; but to risk the life of a Star-Seeker was, in retrospect, a reckless and a foolish thing. I knew it myself, and I desperately hoped no one would be vulgar enough to tell me so.