Steven Campbell - Suck My Cosmos

“Hank, if we dock now, that will be it. We’ll be stuck wherever we land until the other Councilmen take control. This will all be for nothing,” Garm urged.

“I don’t know what you guys are up to, and I don’t want to know, but I’m not ready to die,” Zzzho said.

“We aren’t targets. We’re just a cab. They are taking out the assets and support of the City Councilmen who aren’t supporting the coup,” Garm said.

“Yeah, but you’re taking a big risk. What if a destroyer shoots us just to be safe?” I asked.

“They won’t. I know how the military works,” she said.

“You knew how the Navy of the old Colmarian Confederation worked,” I countered.

“Do it, we’re running out of time,” she said, as another flash blinded us.

“Okay,” I agreed.

“You guys better be right,” Zzzho stated as worriedly as a gas cloud could sound.

There was a lightshow of more ships being destroyed as we made our way silently to Shelter. An hour passed quietly when Zzzho spoke up.

“I’m being hailed. They got a damn cruiser sitting right by the dreadnaught!”

“Don’t answer,” Garm said.

“What? They’ll never let us by!” He answered.

“No, they’ll look up your ship and the owner and see it’s a Keilvin Kamigan pilot. Then they’ll start asking around to try and figure out if you even have the ability to answer the radio. Then we’ll dock,” she said.

“That’s a cruiser!” He repeated. “Its spotlights probably have enough wattage to incinerate us.”

“Shelter is now the closest ship to us, right? We’re just docking like they ordered. Unless they expect us to dock with them,” I said.

The radio kept beeping for ten minutes as we flew closer.

Even Garm was wiping sweat from her brow.

“Do Keilvin Kamigan pray to gods?” I asked Zzzho.

“No, but the quasar JN48223-7077 is the patron star of all cab drivers,” he said.

“Why is that?” Garm asked.

“How should I know? I didn’t invent the occupation.”

I kept eating. No need to die hungry.

“You’re making a mess,” Garm complained, as my low-gravity munching scattered crumbs all over her black outfit.

“Docking initiating!” Zzzho said.

When the final procedures completed, we exhaled so hard we almost blew poor Zzzho out of his own cab.

I had been on a dreadnaught before, hundreds of years ago when the Colmarian Confederation still existed.

To say a dreadnaught was large was an understatement.

Shelter had seemingly countless docking bays. It was able to dock, in a limited fashion, battleships—which didn’t even exist anymore.

It was a city.

An armed city, capable of destroying other cities.

The Colmarian Confederation hadn’t invented much of significance in its countless millennia of existence. In fact, historians may skip it completely when documenting the galaxy. The only things the empire created of value were Portals, mutations, the old-style teles, and dreadnaughts.

Still, Shelter had seen better days. Its damage was apparent all across its exterior of course, but also in the interior. Half the docking bays were inoperable and much of the equipment inside had been destroyed.

You could see damage from a hundred thousand missiles and lasers and projectiles everywhere. It was actually awe-inspiring, because despite the damage, the ship still hummed. There was literally a persistent background noise that proved this thing was still alive.

We asked Zzzho if he could remain in his taxi. He would be our getaway if we needed one. He didn’t want to come inside, because he guessed we were up to something dangerous, and he certainly wasn’t going to disembark with a cruiser sitting right there. So he was quite happy to stay put.

“Delovoa? How are you coming with those scans? We aren’t going to find those Ontakians just skipping around,” I said.

“If MTB is leaving, I may lose control of the telescopes and then you’ll have no choice,” he said.

“The Festival is being attacked,” Malla said via tele.

“Who?” Garm asked.

“Looks like…Maris-To’s forces, Onan Roan’s, Gaktus’. Three of the City Councilmen,” she said.

“Everyone except Trade and Tech,” Garm said.

“Wait, looks like some of Onan Roan’s nobles are being attacked too. I’m withdrawing. I’ll report when I have a safer location. Out,” Malla said.

“MTB, you still there?” I asked.

No answer.

“We have the telescopes for the moment. I’ll keep scanning,” Delovoa said.

Garm and I decided to walk.

Even though there were countless elevators and moving floors and stairs and rooms, there were an equal number of heavy security doors that absolutely crisscrossed the ship. We didn’t have a whole lot of choices on where we could go.

“This is how they segregate access. These damn security airlocks can be used to make sure no one goes into areas where they aren’t authorized,” Garm said.

“Yeah, like us. Can’t you pick the locks?” I asked her, as we stood in front of the insanely complicated high-tech doors.

“No. Can’t you bash them open?” she asked.

I tapped it with my finger. It was probably three feet of steel. We’d have an easier time going through the walls.

“No,” I said. “What are the chances of us running into the Ontakians while taking these low security hallways?”

“If Maris-To didn’t know about the Ontakians, they might be limited to the same paths we are.”

“Just because he didn’t know they were Ontakians didn’t mean they weren’t working for him in another capacity and have access to these doors. I saw them at his party and I doubt they could have gotten in without invitations.”

“Well, then we need to scan them. We’re not going to wander around a dreadnaught for a month,” Garm said.

I kept eating while we were walking, but this annoyed Garm.

“Stop it,” she said.

“It’s helping me heal. You want me healed, right?”

Malla called us.

“It’s a purge. I saw them pluck a half-dozen nobles out of the Festival and put them under arrest. If their security resisted, they were attacked. I don’t see the Central Authority anywhere,” she said.

“Well, they’re all over the Sectors destroying ships. Even freighters,” I said.

“Could you see which ships?” she asked.

“No, they were too far away,” Garm said. “You should report to the Quadrad everything you saw.”

“I already did,” she answered.

That kind of annoyed me. We got second pick at her information.

“Delovoa, any news?” I asked.

“You know, with my advanced scientific skills I’m quite capable of using a tele. I will call you if I find anything,” he answered.

“Jerk,” I said, after hanging up.

“Guys?” Delovoa called back immediately.

“Yes?” Garm answered.

“Shelter is moving.”

We were running down the halls trying every door we could find.

We didn’t know where we were running, but we knew we couldn’t walk any more.

Food was flying out of my pockets. At least I’d be able to find my way back if I needed to.

Garm was a good three corridors ahead of me in short order. She was much faster than I was. She also wasn’t carrying Delovoa’s mega torch.

She suddenly turned back and I caught up with her.

“All the doors are locked ahead,” she said.

“We’ll have to take the elevators to some random floors I guess.”

About this time, one door back, a tubby scientist-looking man exited a room. He must have heard us—or me—stomping around and came out to see what it was.