Mark McGinnis - The Simpleton

“Sub-Forgue Molth!” he said.

The first officer turned as the Howsh commander strode toward him. “Yes, Lorgue Norsh.” The lowly deck officer who had been conversing with Sub-Forgue Molth, lowered his head in submission and backed away.

Norsh towered over the smaller, slighter, Molth. Staring down at him, Norsh tried not to stare at a pinkish, mole-like growth between the Howsh officer’s eyes. Like a third unblinking eye, it had been growing—its overall mass ever-expanding over the past year. He was ready to order Molth to deal with it; get it removed or die trying. It was that distracting. That revolting.

“Who ordered the three scout ships into the Sol System? More importantly, who gave them permission to enter a primitive’s world’s atmosphere? To actually land there?” Norsh asked.

Sub-Forgue Molth exhibited the appropriate expression of confusion, mixed with dismay, and replied, “Scout vessels are intended for pursuit only… certainly not engagement.”

Molth was spouting the obvious and Norsh didn’t buy his act. He already knew that Molth had given the interstellar order. The real question was why? Crews manning the many thousands of Scout-Class vessels, dispatched throughout the galaxy, were one step above barbarians. Norsh had determined earlier that the filthy, ghastly beasts weren’t actually Howsh, but more like the cave dwellers seen on many of the worlds he’d come across over the decades. The ingrates defecated indiscriminately—anytime—anywhere! No, they didn’t have the necessary genetic makeup to string two thoughts together, let alone make war with other life forms. Clearly, Howsh Scout-Class vessels were good for one thing only—menial pursuit duties, and they were required to report back. Scout ships and their crews were disposable—trash.

“Unfortunately, their action will reflect poorly on my jurisdictional command. Something our High Eminence will have little tolerance for.”

Sub-Forgue Molth said, “I am immensely sorry, Lorgue Norsh… but there may be a silver lining to this turn of events.”

Norsh grunted, waiting for him to continue.

“We are already en-route to Primara. Destruction of that foul world is a forgone conclusion. What we do know is that the elusive Pashier spacecraft, the Evermore , has returned to space—is back on course, heading toward Primara. We will easily accomplish what three ineffectual Scout ships could not. Primara and the Evermore will soon come to their appropriate inevitable end—two problems solved.”

Lorgue Norsh thought about that. Sub-Forgue Molth was conveniently omitting the fact that the small fleet of Howsh Scouts, over the span of several years, had been decimated by an equal-sized fleet of fleeing Pashier ships, ones that were, for the most part, defenseless. Decimated not by reciprocal acts of violence, but by other means—most of which seemed to have stemmed from telekinetic acts—resulting in mechanical sabotage, often leaving Howsh ships adrift in space. The last Pashier—the one called Tow—had been far more resourceful than ever thought possible. Especially being the product of an inferior race. It was generally assumed that the heritage pod too had survived, which was unacceptable. Admirable as it was that Tow managed to evade the Scout ships over vast distances of the cosmos. Yes, Tow was certainly worthy of admiration, but it didn’t change the fact that his destiny would follow that of his world, Mahli, and his fellow Pashier compatriots, in destruction and death.

Lorgue Norsh and Sub-Forgue Molth walked together toward available officer seating in the principal dais area. Norsh sat down first and surveyed the surrounding Pintial ’s command center.

Irritably, he gestured for Molth to sit. “There can be no more losses. Our High Eminence has little tolerance for ineptitude. We can only hope he has not learned of the latest series of blunders. Being in his good favor is not a given.”

“Lorgue Norsh, you command the most powerful warships within known space. Ten Marauder-Class fighters are a far cry from fifteen inconsequential little Scouts. I will not displease you again, Lorgue—”

“Fine. We will split the fleet. Five stealth Marauders will stay back and await the Evermore , traveling along its current course. You will command those ships, Sub-Forgue Molth. Perhaps an opportunity for redemption, yes?”

“Thank you, Lorgue. Yes… the Evermore will finally be destroyed. Once and for all we will finally put an end to the Pashier.”

Norsh, glancing again at his subordinate, caught him nervously picking at his disgusting growth. Grimacing, he looked away and said, “Go now and make the preparations for what I have outlined. We will reunite the fleet at Primara.”

Norsh watched as his second-in-command quickly headed for the Command center’s exit. As revolting as the Howsh first officer was in person, one-on-one, he was an adequate commander, both driven and ruthless. Two admirable qualities.

Cuddy sat at the console, scanning the myriad of buttons and switches across the board. He knew what each was used for—its purpose—as well as how to configure it. Apparently, the orb’s final mental download still had a far-reaching effect on him.

He entered in the navigational coordinates to their final destination—Primara—knowing much work would need doing over subsequent weeks. Requirements that went far beyond what Cuddy felt capable of completing on his own. The Evermore ’s five independent systems were autonomous to a certain degree, but the vessel was designed to operate best with a supervising AI interface—an AI orb. As part of his mental download, Cuddy now possessed the basic knowledge of where to find the necessary parts within the hold and how to initialize a new AI orb. He was excited to get started on the project. To have something creative to do—to think about—other than of Rufus and the orb, now gone, or how much he was missing Momma. Or how annoying Brian was steadily becoming, by the minute.

Cuddy heard Brian’s grating voice within the main cabin, complaining again about one thing or another. Cuddy rose from his seat to stare outside into the darkness before him. Space seemed so cold and impersonal. Several hours had passed since they’d left Earth, and they were quickly making their way through the solar system.

“Hey… how you holding up?”

Cuddy spun around. Jackie, standing at the entrance to the bridge, then asked him, “You get us on course, and all that?”

“I think so. Best I can figure out, anyway. I need to assemble another AI orb. That’ll give me a bit more reassurance.”

“I think I saw the parts for them down in the first hold… when we were working on the propulsion system.”

Cuddy nodded.

“So… you up for giving everyone a quick tour? I’d do it, but I’m not as familiar with the ship as you are,” Jackie said, smiling.

Cuddy was pretty sure the request had come from Brian. “Yeah… sure, I can do that.” As he approached her, she leaned in and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

“What was that for?”

“Rufus… mostly, I guess.”

He stepped past her and entered the main cabin, where Kyle and Tony were seated. Their feet were up, and they were talking and laughing about something. Cuddy didn’t see Brian, at first, then saw him aft, coming up the passageway.

“Well… okay… I guess you figured out this is the Evermore ’s main cabin.” Cuddy said, inwardly checking his memories to see if there was anything to add concerning this section of the ship. There was ! “There’s seating in here for about ten people and an entertainment feature too.” He strode over to a round, padded thing that looked somewhat like a big donut, which Kyle and Tony were using to prop their feet up on. He gestured for them to remove their feet and placed an open palm on its top surface. A holographic-type display suddenly appeared, emanating from the donut ’s open area.