This is a chapter of the science fiction blog novel. In this chapter, the hero, Tom starts to experience life as a pirate.
Ollie followed Tom into the hall. He was proud of him; he saw Tom fight the way humans do, with noises and flashes and things in their paws. The wolf part in his heart whispered that this is good.
Tom did not feel proud. With slumped shoulders, and lowered head he shuffled down the hall almost tripping over the super-sized space suit with every step.
There was a galley kitchen near the common room. It was narrow and gloomy in the dim half-light. One side was lined with sinks, counters, and washing stations, on the other side were stoves and ovens. Silver shelves with pots, pans, and other cooking utensils stood on each side of the stoves. In the middle of the room was a narrow work area with two stainless steel tables. It was a mess, pots, pans, dishes and every utensil covered the floor. Cabinet doors were open; the packaged food had fallen out. Milk and other liquid mixed in slimy puddles in on the floor.
Tom looked around and wondered how to make coffee. Then he saw the bald man. It was the fattest person Tom had ever seen; he filled the whole space between the tables and the stoves. He wore a cook’s apron over his black space suit. Around the apron was a belt of some pale color. The belt held a dozen or more knives; each one was a different length and shape, there were big knives, long knives, short knives, narrow knives and broad knives, some were curved and some had saw-like notches in the blade. Tom felt for the taser and fumbled to get it unwrapped from the holster still in his arms. It felt comforting to him and at the same time he felt guilty for feeling comforted by it.
It bothered Tom that someone was there, he wanted to be alone. He wanted to think, to understand what just happened, what was happening.
“The Captain wants coffee,” he said. Tom was shocked to see teeth sharpened to points when the fat pirate smiled.
He waddled to one of the counters. On it was a fancy silver urn with a carved spigot near the base. He picked up a pot from the floor and filled it with steaming brown liquid from the spigot.
Tossing the holster over his shoulder so the tazer gun was comfortably at this hip Tom turned away and begin to put cups on a platter. Some cups he found in a cupboard but most he picked up from the mess on the floor, they looked clean enough so he put them on the platter. His back was to the fat man.
Ollie's growl alerted him to look up and he stepped back in horror at what he saw. The bald man was bent over, and creeping toward Ollie, coxing Ollie to come to him by holding out a piece of meat, in the other hand was a large shiny edged knife. On the stove was a big black pot, red heat came up from the stove and wiggling flaming fingers danced around the base of the pot. Tom saw that the man wanted to kill Ollie and put him in the pot.
"No!" Tom yelled dropping the tray, cups clattered and broke on the floor."
The fat man looked like a child who had lost his toy. His lower lip quivered, his forehead wrinkled and his eyes looked terribly sad. He gave a begging look.
‘’No, you can’t kill him. He is not for eating.”
The fat man sighed and shrugged his shoulders sadly as he put the knife in the belt. He stood still with a blank look.
Tom shook his head and began to pick up the cups and the platter all the time he kept an eye on the cannibal. The pirate began to grunt. Tom watched him waddle away between tables. The man was so fat he could hardly fit. After a few moments, he came back with a floating cart. They put the coffee pot and the platter with the cups on it. The man grabbed a handful of silver spoons out of a dirty bucket from the sink and wiped them clean on his dirty apron.
“Thank you. Are you the cook?”
The man nodded, the shine of lights rolling on his bald head as he did so. He grinned broadly showing the horrible fish-like teeth.
“Can't you talk?”
The fat man smiled and shrugged his shoulders.
"Just as well," Tom thought, "I don’t want to talk anyway." Keeping the cart between himself and the man he backed out the door. “Come on Ollie.”
The fat man began to grunt again. He flapped his hand at Tom and with the other held up one finger. “What do you want?" Tom was confused by the strange sign language.
The fat man opened a silver cabinet next to a stove and reached inside for a box of sugar. Picking up a cracked white bowl from the messy floor he poured the sugar into it, some spilling over the edge of the bowl. He waddled over to stand across the cart from Tom. With one hand he held up the overfilled bowl of sugar and with the other he covered his eye. Tom still did not understand and shook his head slowly. The pirate waived the sugar and repeated the action of covering one eye.
“I don’t get it.” Said Tom totally befuddled.
The cannibal put the sugar on the cart and began his strange sign language again; one hand over his eye and the other on his chin like a beard, this time he stomped his foot and made angry grunts.
“Oh. I see. The sugar is for the Captain. He likes sugar in his coffee.”
The Cannibal's head bobbed in exaggerated childlike nods, his wide eyes staying on Tom.
“O.K. I’m all set. Goodbye, see you later, gotta go.” Tom hurriedly pushed the cart until he got into the hall. “Come on boy, let's go.” as Ollie passed through the door Tom slapped the pad to make sure it shut behind him. Swinging the cart around to front he began to guide it up the corridor. He shuffled slowly since the over-sized suit would barely allow his feet to move; the long pants legs were always either bunching up under his feet or flopping back and forth. He kept looking back down the hall watching for the cannibal, just in case he came out to stalk him or Ollie.
Tom stopped outside the common room. “Go ahead, Ollie, open the door.”
Ollie was a smart dog and loved to show off how much he knew. His tail wagged as he stood on his hind legs and placed a paw on the pad that opened the door. It slid open.
“Good boy.” Just seeing Ollie open the door gave him hope. "Maybe together we have what it would take to get out of this mess.”
The captain was talking to the officers. All were seated except the Captain who paced restlessly around the room. Tom poured coffee for each of the men. He set the cracked bowl of sugar on the table next to the captain’s coffee and watched with amazement while the Captain dumped sugar into his cup until it became a brown syrup that slowly dribbled over the brim.
Tom marveled at the Captain; he was organized and asked questions Tom would never have thought about. He demanded reports on engines, weapons, supplies, and battle damage. Captain Stone knew about the farm cargo but insisted that there was treasure hidden in it, and ordered some men to look at each crate and make a complete list of everything. He was angry that the ship was a slow freighter, he wanted to command a mighty ship of war.
Tom stood in a corner, bored tired and struggling to keep awake. Ollie lay on the floor resting but alert. The Captain said something that jolted him fully awake. “Our top priority, men, is to get the command code to the computer. This ship is useless without the command code.” The Captain bellowed. “I expect lieutenant O'bee to have it before too long, that is once he gets his face stitched back up.”
The Captain glared with his one eye at Ollie.
Tom was dazed. They needed the code and Captain Price gave it to him. It was so simple, he remembered. Computer prime transfer command authority to Tom Snow per Captain Price, authorization twenty-four thirty –six delta.” But he had to say it in person to the computer while in the command center to have full command, any other location only gave limited authority over the computer.Chapter 46
The Cannibal
Tom did not feel proud. With slumped shoulders, and lowered head he shuffled down the hall almost tripping over the super-sized space suit with every step.
There was a galley kitchen near the common room. It was narrow and gloomy in the dim half-light. One side was lined with sinks, counters, and washing stations, on the other side were stoves and ovens. Silver shelves with pots, pans, and other cooking utensils stood on each side of the stoves. In the middle of the room was a narrow work area with two stainless steel tables. It was a mess, pots, pans, dishes and every utensil covered the floor. Cabinet doors were open; the packaged food had fallen out. Milk and other liquid mixed in slimy puddles in on the floor.
Tom looked around and wondered how to make coffee. Then he saw the bald man. It was the fattest person Tom had ever seen; he filled the whole space between the tables and the stoves. He wore a cook’s apron over his black space suit. Around the apron was a belt of some pale color. The belt held a dozen or more knives; each one was a different length and shape, there were big knives, long knives, short knives, narrow knives and broad knives, some were curved and some had saw-like notches in the blade. Tom felt for the taser and fumbled to get it unwrapped from the holster still in his arms. It felt comforting to him and at the same time he felt guilty for feeling comforted by it.
It bothered Tom that someone was there, he wanted to be alone. He wanted to think, to understand what just happened, what was happening.
“The Captain wants coffee,” he said. Tom was shocked to see teeth sharpened to points when the fat pirate smiled.
He waddled to one of the counters. On it was a fancy silver urn with a carved spigot near the base. He picked up a pot from the floor and filled it with steaming brown liquid from the spigot.
Tossing the holster over his shoulder so the tazer gun was comfortably at this hip Tom turned away and begin to put cups on a platter. Some cups he found in a cupboard but most he picked up from the mess on the floor, they looked clean enough so he put them on the platter. His back was to the fat man.
Ollie's growl alerted him to look up and he stepped back in horror at what he saw. The bald man was bent over, and creeping toward Ollie, coxing Ollie to come to him by holding out a piece of meat, in the other hand was a large shiny edged knife. On the stove was a big black pot, red heat came up from the stove and wiggling flaming fingers danced around the base of the pot. Tom saw that the man wanted to kill Ollie and put him in the pot.
"No!" Tom yelled dropping the tray, cups clattered and broke on the floor."
The fat man looked like a child who had lost his toy. His lower lip quivered, his forehead wrinkled and his eyes looked terribly sad. He gave a begging look.
‘’No, you can’t kill him. He is not for eating.”
The fat man sighed and shrugged his shoulders sadly as he put the knife in the belt. He stood still with a blank look.
Tom shook his head and began to pick up the cups and the platter all the time he kept an eye on the cannibal. The pirate began to grunt. Tom watched him waddle away between tables. The man was so fat he could hardly fit. After a few moments, he came back with a floating cart. They put the coffee pot and the platter with the cups on it. The man grabbed a handful of silver spoons out of a dirty bucket from the sink and wiped them clean on his dirty apron.
“Thank you. Are you the cook?”
The man nodded, the shine of lights rolling on his bald head as he did so. He grinned broadly showing the horrible fish-like teeth.
“Can't you talk?”
The fat man smiled and shrugged his shoulders.
"Just as well," Tom thought, "I don’t want to talk anyway." Keeping the cart between himself and the man he backed out the door. “Come on Ollie.”
The fat man began to grunt again. He flapped his hand at Tom and with the other held up one finger. “What do you want?" Tom was confused by the strange sign language.
The fat man opened a silver cabinet next to a stove and reached inside for a box of sugar. Picking up a cracked white bowl from the messy floor he poured the sugar into it, some spilling over the edge of the bowl. He waddled over to stand across the cart from Tom. With one hand he held up the overfilled bowl of sugar and with the other he covered his eye. Tom still did not understand and shook his head slowly. The pirate waived the sugar and repeated the action of covering one eye.
“I don’t get it.” Said Tom totally befuddled.
The cannibal put the sugar on the cart and began his strange sign language again; one hand over his eye and the other on his chin like a beard, this time he stomped his foot and made angry grunts.
“Oh. I see. The sugar is for the Captain. He likes sugar in his coffee.”
The Cannibal's head bobbed in exaggerated childlike nods, his wide eyes staying on Tom.
“O.K. I’m all set. Goodbye, see you later, gotta go.” Tom hurriedly pushed the cart until he got into the hall. “Come on boy, let's go.” as Ollie passed through the door Tom slapped the pad to make sure it shut behind him. Swinging the cart around to front he began to guide it up the corridor. He shuffled slowly since the over-sized suit would barely allow his feet to move; the long pants legs were always either bunching up under his feet or flopping back and forth. He kept looking back down the hall watching for the cannibal, just in case he came out to stalk him or Ollie.
Tom stopped outside the common room. “Go ahead, Ollie, open the door.”
Ollie was a smart dog and loved to show off how much he knew. His tail wagged as he stood on his hind legs and placed a paw on the pad that opened the door. It slid open.
“Good boy.” Just seeing Ollie open the door gave him hope. "Maybe together we have what it would take to get out of this mess.”
The captain was talking to the officers. All were seated except the Captain who paced restlessly around the room. Tom poured coffee for each of the men. He set the cracked bowl of sugar on the table next to the captain’s coffee and watched with amazement while the Captain dumped sugar into his cup until it became a brown syrup that slowly dribbled over the brim.
Tom marveled at the Captain; he was organized and asked questions Tom would never have thought about. He demanded reports on engines, weapons, supplies, and battle damage. Captain Stone knew about the farm cargo but insisted that there was treasure hidden in it, and ordered some men to look at each crate and make a complete list of everything. He was angry that the ship was a slow freighter, he wanted to command a mighty ship of war.
Tom stood in a corner, bored tired and struggling to keep awake. Ollie lay on the floor resting but alert. The Captain said something that jolted him fully awake. “Our top priority, men, is to get the command code to the computer. This ship is useless without the command code.” The Captain bellowed. “I expect lieutenant O'bee to have it before too long, that is once he gets his face stitched back up.”
The Captain glared with his one eye at Ollie.
The Captain stopped pacing behind the man with the robot hand, “Ratts, will we be able to meet the fleet in eighty-eight hours at Orion nine?”
Ratts was holding his silver robot hand at the wrist. “Yes sir. With time to spare if we leave on schedule. But I need the command code to start the engines fully.”
"The stupid code," Stone muttered. "Ratts, if we do not get the code what else can we do to get the ship running?"
"I guess there are a few things we could do. I could write new software but that would take months. If we trained every man on board we could go manual, or I could swap the ship's computer brain with ones from all the shuttles it won't be enough but it might get us going. It will take time and leave the shuttles useless."
"Those don't sound like good ideas to me," Stone said.
"They are not good ideas, but those are the options," Ratts said.
“Well, let's hope O'bee or somebody can get the command code. I want every man with any computer experience to work on hacking into the brain of this ship. I do not want Whitey to get the code or else we will all be taking orders from him.” Stone paced around the room going back and forth muttering "Damn Whitey, you stupid old witch.."
He stopped and searched the room with his one eye. "You!" He pointed to a man, "And you. Go now and find out what happened to O'bee. He should be working on cracking the computer code. O.K. get going." The two confused men jumped up glad to be away. "Report back to me at once. You hear." Stone called as they slid out the door.
The Captain went on. “Remember the solar radiation is hiding our radio transmissions. We must not have any off ship communications after we leave this vicinity of space. Especially since we will be passing a communications relay satellite. You all have your orders. Dismissed.” The tired sleepy men stood. Then to Tom, he said, “Kid, carry these reports and follow me.”
As the captain approached the white door it opened too soon. A woman in a red space suit stood there. Behind her were three others. Stone almost bumped into them. He sputtered, “Who the devil are you? Where did you come from?”
‘I am Regga-Aon, Chief of Security. The Supreme Commander assigned me here to make sure her orders were followed.” Then looking around at the mess of men in the room said, “What happened here?”
After losing ground to Whitey Stone had no stomach for another argument. “Just keeping discipline like any good Captain would.”
The men glared at her with anger and hatred. The Red Guard called themselves Security and acted like a police force with the power to judge and execute. An arrogant and oppressive elite they looked down on all except the supreme commander and her inner circle. All of Stones officers remembered the cruelty they experienced with security officers when they were in prison.
“So why is Security here? Does the supreme commander doubt my loyalty?”
“No. But I have orders for you. A few changes in plan.”
“Fine. I’ll read them in my cabin.” He grabbed the folders from her. “If you don’t mind we have work to do.” He left the room.
Tom picked up folders of plastic papers, and computer memory cards and shuffled after the captain. They walked down long hallways and climbed several sets of stairs. Ollie was following behind. As they walked the captain kept talking to himself. Some of his fantasy conversation was a repeat of the ones he had in the common room. He shook his head. "Whatever you say, you scum breath toilet licker."
They stopped at a blue door with the words, "Captain Price," in gold letters on it. "Kid, tomorrow I want you to find some paint and change that to Captain Stone."
"Yes, sir."
When the door opened Tom's mouth opened in shock- the room was beautiful and elegant, even though it has been tossed about in the battle leaving furniture scattered on their sides strewn about it still looked like a royal suite in a palace.
"O.K," Stone muttered. "This will do."
Captain Stone sat down in a chair and held up one foot. “Pull off my boot,” He growled. Tom cupped on hand under the heel and with the other hand grabbed the toe and tugged. “Come on, you maggot. Don’t you know how to take off a pair of boots? You are going at it backward, turn around and pull.” Finally, it slipped off. Tom stood with it in his hand. He had never seen anything made out of material like this; it smelled and was stiff. He looked but couldn’t find the electronics that created artificial gravity and adjusted the cushion inside.
“What’s the matter, brat, you never saw leather before? These are real boots for a real man, not any of your fancy robot feet for me. They’re beautiful on me don’t you think? Genuine authentic replicas of Old Earth sea boots like Captain Kidd or Black Beard would have worn.” The Captain held up his other foot. Tom grabbed it and pulled. The Captain turned to the desk he slipped his eye patch up on his forehead and began to read the reports. Without looking up he said. “Take the boots and polish them, then see Lieutenant Ratts for duty. I’ll call you when I need you. The captain opened folders and began to read the notes. He left the new orders for last.
(c) Adron
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