Mark McGinnis - The Simpleton

“Go ahead and initialize the orbs… put them to work,” Cuddy ordered, which was the key component of their phase two plan. If that doesn’t work, well … Cuddy didn’t want to think any further about it. It had taken Bob four days to determine the potential technological weakness on that specific Howsh star-fighter model—a nondescript maintenance access panel, located on each ship’s underbelly, near the warship’s stern. And, at that very moment, the other deployed pairs of orbs were making their way to that exact access panel.

“You said it would be possible to get feeds from each the orbs… right?”

The viewscape display split into eight squares—each displaying the POV of individual orbs.

Cuddy was suddenly thrown from his feet as three consecutive plasma strikes hammered into the Evermore . Flat on his back, he looked up at the Viewscape display. The orb icons were supposed to turn from blue to green, once even one in the pair managed to breach the maintenance access panel. But… thus far… none had turned green.

Cuddy noticed the others, lying on the deck too, had also been thrown off their feet. Apparently, the G-force dampeners were down. Desk papers were scattered all about. Bob, still hovering at the console, was taking the Evermore through a fast series of evasive maneuvers, which didn’t allow them to do anything more than find something to hold on to and wait it out. Cuddy peered around Tony, to his right, and saw Jackie’s cheek bleeding. It didn’t look too serious, but he wanted to reach out to her just the same.

Jackie, sitting up, pointed to the display. “Green! They are starting to turn green!”

Cuddy followed her pointing finger to the Viewscape display. Sure enough, one by one, the individual frames around the eight video feeds were changing from blue to green. He hauled his body across the deck to get a closer view of the one pair still showing blue. Working as a team, the orb pair was in the process of prying open the Maurader’s access panels, using their powerfully clawed digits. One orb did manage to pry up a small corner of a panel, but as the panel began to curl back on itself, the orb very quickly managed to open it far enough for the second orb to extend its articulating arm deep inside the breached cavity. Although out of view, Cuddy knew the orb was probing the interior of the space, seeking a specific, thick conduit bundle that supplied power to each of the warship’s major systems—including tactical/weaponry, navigation, and the propulsion drive regulators. The feed frame suddenly changed from blue to green as the orb withdrew its articulating arm. It had severed the conduit bundle successfully.

In a matter of seconds, all but one Howsh warship had been deactivated—each floundering uselessly about in space. That one command ship, though, was traversing through space with astonishing speed. With each pass, it fired off another volley of devastating plasma fire, causing the Evermore to violently shake.

“We’re going to die… we’re going to fucking die!” Tony yelled.

Cuddy could see the fear in Jackie’s eyes, too. He knew the Evermore couldn’t withstand another hit like the last one.

“Shields are decreasing with each strike, Captain. Down to thirty-two percent,” the orb reported, which was Cuddy’s cue—time to implement phase three. With difficulty, he pulled himself up to his feet and went over to the forward console. Standing beside the AI orb, he stared out the forward observation window. “Go ahead, Bob. Order the orbs still operational back to the Evermore .”

Cuddy watched as the Howsh command ship swung around for another fly by, then closed his eyes. Inhaling a deep breath, he opened them, his mind concentrating on a singular component within the command ship. A few days earlier, Bob provided him with numerous diagrams of what the Marauder’s forward emergency escape hatch looked like. Technical drawings—as well as a myriad of technical data Cuddy didn’t completely understand. But what he did know was how to blow the hatch. While he didn’t have the mental kinetic dexterity to do what the eleven orbs had been tasked with, he knew he could manhandle those three thick metal levers. Each one needed to be flipped over—one hundred eighty degrees—into its opposite seated position. A simple brute-force action that was easy to accomplish—if you were a Howsh standing within the ship.

“Do something!” Tony yelled.

Cuddy, aware the others were now rising to their feet, did his best to concentrate. Again, he mentally pictured the emergency hatch, situated in the forward section of the Marauder. He visualized it in his mind—all its detail. The approaching ship was mere seconds from firing at them again. Cuddy raised a hand, miming the action of someone grabbing on to the cold hard metal of the first lever, then swung his arm over in an arc, feeling the first of the three levers pivot around and slam into its opposing position. He then did the same with lever number two. It too slammed down into position.

The Howsh command ship decided, it seemed, to move in closer proximity before it fired its three powerful plasma cannons. Its purpose, undoubtedly, was to bring the battle to a quick, definitive conclusion. But those two seconds of added time cost them dearly.

Cuddy mentally gripped the last metal lever. With another swing of his arm, the lever pivoted around, and he felt it too slam home.

By this point, the Howsh command ship was close enough for Cuddy to view a remarkable level of detail: the wear and tear on the warship’s hull from three-plus years traversing the cosmos. Also, the forward starboard emergency escape hatch, which never was to be opened without first closing every internal adjacent hatchway.

A small explosion erupted near the bow of the approaching command ship. Fairly insignificant, compared to their blazingly bright plasma bolts that had been coursing through space only moments before—but effective nevertheless.

The Howsh command ship did not return fire but passed right under the nose of the Evermore . Cuddy tracked the ship’s passing with his eyes as long as he could, before it too became nothing more than a white speck in distant space—like so many others.

“What’s happening… why did it leave?” Jackie asked.

Bob said, “That Howsh command ship has currently lost atmospheric integrity. The vacuum of space is pulling all breathable air out through the blown hatch.”

“So they’re all dead?” Jackie asked.

“No…” the orb told her, “but crewmembers are certainly scurrying around trying to save themselves. Environmental suits have been deployed, their hatchways secured, as damage repair teams assemble. The Howsh command ship is now out of commission, at least for a while.”

Kyle asked, “So what’s been accomplished then, since all their ships can be repaired? They’re still a threat. Maybe not right now… but eventually. Soon.”

Cuddy smiled. “True. But we’ve done something else.”

“What’s that?”

“Kept in alignment with the way of the Pashier,” Jackie said, answering before Cuddy could respond.

Cuddy said, “Look, for the Pashier all life is deemed sacred. If they are to make it safely to their new home world… Primara… it cannot be at the expense of others’ lives.”

“Not even the Howsh’s?” Tony asked.

Kyle’s expression changed. “Actually… especially not the Howsh.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Tony replied back. “We killed a bunch of those fur balls back on Earth.”

Cuddy and Kyle exchanged a knowing look.

Late on the previous night, Cuddy, feeling exhausted, left the bridge and made his way into the main cabin where he found Kyle, sitting alone, watching something on the holographic display. “Where’s Tony?” he asked.