They entered Kali’s office and Snoodgrass walked over to the computer console and he was quickly past the password security and into the Fo’c’sle database. Without looking up at Grommit, he could tell she was looking suspicious.
“I was more than Wickede’s chief advisor; I was also his spy master, Grommit. I know more about events happening than he did. Gaining the Fo’c’sle security codes was easy as I’m Kali’s direct boss, and now yours.” He stood for a few minutes clicking away and scanning through files.
Grommit walked back out to order messages to be sent to Alienbutt. She liked the strange bounty hunter with his strange dress sense and funny ways. She knew that Killashandra had known him for a while but she didn’t speak much of her past. If she got time she would have to ask.
When she returned to Snoodgrass he was sitting reading files at the computer but had taken the time to find Kali’s drink store. He didn’t hear her enter and looked up surprised when she reached over and lifted the drinking glass that was next to him.
“Message sent to Alienbutt and the Fleet is preparing to move. I figure if we have more traitors, then we can find them at a place of safety as easily as here, plus it will give you time to find them,” she said as she took a long drink from the glass.
Looking strangely at the bottle she then looked at Snoodgrass. He looked embarrassed and then shrugged his shoulders “It’s lemon tea. I hardly ever drink anything stronger as I need to keep my mind sharp,” admitted Snoodgrass. “It appears our Julius was a sleeper. I checked his medical files and found what I was looking for. Someone placed an implant in him almost two years ago, probably when he was on shore leave at SD69 by the look of things.”
“A sleeper? What the hell’s that, and what happened to him?” asked a confused Grommit, sitting on the edge of the desk.
“He was implanted with a control nano probe, they lie dormant until activated and then you’ve got a walking assassin. I’ve got the computer on each ship running very specialised scans on all other captains and crew. If we’ve got any more, I’ll find them, as once activated they give off a reading I can scan for.”
Grommit stood up, swearing. Snoodgrass, who was used to colourful language, was impressed by the diversity and length of the rant. After a minute or two with no end in sight he held up a bottle for her to take. She took it without pausing in her onslaught and threw it at the wall. As the bottle shattered, she finally stopped.
“One more thing I need to tell you. The ships that attacked when Wickede was killed were the mark two dreadnoughts. The plans must have been stolen just before they destroyed our research facility.”
“And that means?” asked Grommit, sitting back down.
“They could have much better ships than us, and we have no idea how much better. They got the new ship designs and weapons arrays but the onboard computer and improved shields were at a different site and they are still secure.”
Grommit started another rant even more colourful than the first; Snoodgrass finally got her to stop when she started to repeat herself for the second time.
Blackarachnia’s ship jumped out of light speed in a system far removed from regular space travel. Nifty knew Blackarachnia well enough to know that once the war started he would have to rush to the aid of his friends, and in doing that he would be killed. This she had to prevent. Placing a respirator over her face, she released a sleeping gas into the ship’s air conditioning. Within minutes all the crew would be asleep and then, working with the droids, she would move them all to the stasis booths.
It was a cheap trick but the only way to keep him alive until he was needed. The future was so complex and it depended on such a small group of people. She had to keep Blackarachnia alive so in the future he could save Alienbutt, who had to save a now dead Wickede. That one had her puzzled, and on it went. Each of the chosen had tasks to complete, all interlinked and vital to the cause. If one failed, they all failed and the Ick would be destroyed completely.
She sat looking at the ship's sensors and waited until all the crew were asleep and then sent an order for the droids to start moving the crew to their booths. Walking out of her quarters and onto the bridge, she saw droids already dragging the unconscious bodies off to where they would spend the next several months. Blackarachnia lay slumped in the captain’s chair and even though he was a large man, the slight form of Nifty easily picked him up and carried him to the booth. Strapping him into the booth, she closed the lid and checked his vital signs on the screen attached, and then moved around checking the other twenty booths as they were filled. Finally all the crew were interred in the booths and the droids returned to their tasks. She was now alone aboard the ship and headed back to the flight deck to move the ship to a place of safety where it wouldn’t be discovered. The message in the Book of Ick had been specific in all the details, even giving her a place to hide out while she waited for the time to act.
What it hadn’t told her was what she was going to do for the next few months while she waited. Walking down to the canteen she saw an E-book on the table. Glancing at it she saw it was on and was all about interior design. Picking it up she glanced through it, stopping on a page that explained how to crochet place mats and doilies. Reading what she would need she headed back out of the door and down to the ship’s stores. There was plenty of time to kill and she would need a new hobby.
As the gas dispersed, Mr. Fluffy crawled out of his bolt hole. He had sat on Nifty's knee and read the instructions left to her in the Ick book. His ability to read and understand everything said to him served him well on many occasions. The experiments carried out on him when he was abducted along with Nifty had vastly boosted his intelligence, and that intelligence had developed over the last couple of years by staggering proportions, until now, when he had one of the most brilliant minds in the universe.
For a cat he would make an excellent scientist but his body held him back. When he tried to speak, all that came out was a meow and having paws were a definite drawback for handling tools. But now he had a plan and a good few months to implement it. His intelligence was a match for Frank T.L. and now he had the run of a powerful ship to create the tools he needed to start his one cat conquest to reclaim the universe that rightly belonged to him. Heading for the engineering section and one of the few computer consoles with a keyboard, he purred as he plotted. The time of Mr. Fluffy the humble cat was drawing to a close, it was now time for Mr. Fluffy the intergalactic tyrant.
To be continued.
Thanks for reading and all images are mine.