Going Very, Very Fast

Posted on 02 Dec 2024 @ 11:08am by Ensign August Olson
Edited on on 02 Dec 2024 @ 11:09am

905 words; about a 5 minute read

Mission: Stranded
Location: Pakled salvage hauler Kogar

Vernabob was in charge of the engines. He had to make them go fast. And they were going fast. The scale on his screen said they could go up to 10. But Vernabob thought they were going faster than that, so he'd stuck a bit of tape on the side of his monitor and wrote "11" on it. They were going very fast.

He kept his eyes on the monitor. The green part showed the thing. The red part showed the anti-thing. And in between, one dot of the thing got mixed up with the anti-thing, and that made the ship go fast. That was what the screen was showing him. If more dots were going in between, that meant they were going faster.

He knew Cherbegrod was after something precious, something that was... Where they were going. Very fast. He was in charge of making them go fast, but he was also in charge of making sure they could defend themselves. They had shields, too. Big ones, that lit up all blue whenever something hit them. Not like on his old ship. That one had shields that were red. Red was no good, that ship had been broken by those other people with big ears. The blue shields were better.

Cherbegrod was very pleased. He knew they were strong. He knew they were fast. And most importantly, he knew they were first. First to this prize that would make him strong and happy and attractive. "How much longer," he barked.

"One hour," said Garipog from his cluttered work panel. He actually had not even looked to see how much time remained; he was smart, and smart individuals can make a guess. So that is what he had done. "Perhaps we could be there sooner if Vernabob was not lying to himself about our speed."

The Captain of the vessel turned on Vernabob. "You better not be lying to me. I am smart and can tell when I am lied to. Are you making us slow? Tell me now," Cherbegrod demanded. The remnants of the food he had eaten shortly ago still clinging for dear life on the front of his front.

Vernabob pointed to his screen. The green and red dots were going into the middle of the screen very fast. "We're going as fast as we can. I don't think we've ever gone faster."

He turned toward Garipog. Was the First trying to divert attention from things he hadn't done on his end? "You should make sure we can shoot when we get there."

Cherbegrod turned on Garipog. "What is wrong with our guns and things? Are we not strong? I like to be strong. I want to be strong! This is your fault," he raged, slamming his fist down on the arm of his chair, and right into the sandwich he had forgotten about.

"We can shoot when we need to shoot," said Garipog angrily. "Look at Vernabob's monitor. He is lying. The scale only goes up to ten, but his panel says eleven. You know, Cherbegrod, we have been friends for a long time. I have never lied to you."

Vernabob leaned forward and snarled at Garipog. "We can shoot... But can we shoot straight?"

Cherbegrod yelled over both of them. "Enough!" He threw the remnants of his sandwich at both Garipog and Vernabob, the chunks of meat, lettuce and condiment missing both by a considerable distance. "We are strong. We are fast, and we are smart," he continued, his voice level and conversational. Then he screamed again. "Now act like it!"

Vernabob shot Garipog a dirty look, but wisely kept his mouth shut. He turned his back and hunched down over his console, watching the green and red dots collide in their hypnotic dance on the monitor.

We will see, said Garipog to himself. He would never vocalize his doubts to Cherbegrod, and certainly not while Vernabob was on the Bridge. Instead, he parroted the Captain's words: "Strong. Fast. Smart." Garipog only hoped that fortune was on their side. He and his family could not endure another humiliation before the Executive Council of the Salvagers' Guild. The encounter last year with Thot Tren and the Breen Dreadnaught had cost both he and Cherbegrod dearly; the fact that both of them were still officers in the Pakled Salvage Corps was almost a miracle in itself.

Garipog normally didn't believe in miracles, though...only himself, and his crew. Except for Vernabob. He had his eye on Vernabob.

Pleased that he had brought his small crew back under control, Cherbegrod returned his attention back to the matter at hand, seizing a new warship for himself and for Garipog and for Vernabob. It was going to be a great day. "I want us to come out of superspeed when we are about 6 trillion steps from it." Then he turned to Gariprog. "And I want our weapons strong and ready to fire, in case this is a trap. I don't trust anyone, and neither should you." Then he turned to Vernabob. "And neither should you!"

Vernabob knew better than to ignore that remark. He was smart enough to know that Garipog was definitely not worthy of trust. But neither was Cherbegrod. He shifted on his feet and felt the weight of the disruptor hidden underneath his heavy robes. He was ready for anything.

"We'll be there in fifty-two minutes," he said.

 

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