~~~~~~
The Black Dwarf sauntered back to his airship. In the landing bay, lightning flashed and thundered as the police and his dwarves battled. Ricochets sent sparks flying, and the occasional wild shot zinged across the plant.
His airship was parked in an alcove guarded by a heavy-set dwarf and a thin dwarf. The pair snapped to attention at his approach. The heavier dwarf opened his door, and he stopped and waited.
“Sir, may I help you?” he said.
“No, Helter, unless you can remember what Skelter forgot.”
“Oh, yeah,” said Helter. “Skelter get your backpack.”
“Got it,” said the gangly dwarf. “Yes, sir, Master Nimrod, what would you like? I’ve got wine, cheese, grapes, and crackers.”
“What did I give you before we left?”
“Oh, the remote,” Skelter dug in his pack, and pulled out a thin device, “here it is sir.”
The Black Dwarf rolled his eyes, and took the device. “When the Marie Celeste goes up, Jack Clay will go to kingdom come.”
“Master Nimrod, sir, can I ask a question?”
“What is it Skelter?”
“Why go to all this trouble to send Jack Clay on a cruise to outer space? Couldn’t you just buy him a ticket?”
“Blockhead, why do you think we came up here? He’s not going on a cruise! When the ship launches, it will obliterate the ship, the silo, several blocks of Nodlon, and Jack Clay.”
He activated the remote, and an android answered. “Welcome to your new, improved, Galaxy-Soft steward, the latest in domestic androids. Simply tell the steward what you want, and he will accept your order.”
“Droid go to the bridge, set the ship to launch in ten minutes, and lock the navigation system. The password is Moloch. Do you copy?”
“Yes, sir,” answered the android.
He handed his staff to Skelter, climbed into his ship, and relaxed. Skelter stowed his staff, and clambered in while Helter warmed the levitators.
Moab police cruisers arrived and cordoned off the abandoned plant.
Nimrod chuckled as the officers executed their procedures and protocols. Invisible, the airship slipped over the police lines and darted towards the exit. As they turned into the Halls of Industry to speed away, the Marie Celeste’s navigation lights came on.
“Your fate is sealed Phaedra’s son. Your next destination is the afterlife.”
Tin-Plated Megalomaniacs
Dizzy, he cleared his head, got his feet under him. The Black Dwarf was gone, and the hatch was closed. His companions were disheveled, but looked none the worse for the wear.
“After him,” yelled Gumshoe pointing at the hatch.
Jack leapt into the air. Reaching the hatch, he slapped the latch release. A small red light flashed at him, and the hatch beeped. He tried cranking the manual latch without effect. He jerked the latch in frustration. “It’s locked,” he called back to his companions. “Any ideas?”
“Go through the stevedore’s cab,” said York, pointing, “there.”
Thinking of his failure with the Black Dwarf, Jack doubted his ability. “That’s a space rated windshield, but I can try.”
“Go for it,” said Gumshoe. “We have confidence in you, Jack.”
“Ready?” He levitated everyone and they flew up to the stevedore’s cab.
York looked down and creased his forehead. “Now I know how a cow feels when she’s being abducted.”
“Yeah, the first time is paranormal,” Shotgun quipped, “but then you learn to relax and enjoy flying.”
Jack focused on the stevedore’s cab. He tried to put his failure out of mind. Anger welled in him as he thought of the warlock escaping. Throwing his fist at the cab window, he fired a telekinetic bolt. The window shattered into thousands of pieces and blew over the cab. “Watch out for slivers.” They flew into the cab, and landed. The glass crunched under their boots.
“Bridge,” said Gumshoe, “Go.”
Clay dashed from the cab, and up a stair. He found himself on a deck facing the purser’s office. The deck ran in two directions. Picking a direction randomly, he jogged down the deck passing hatches marked navigation and communications. He reached a staircase, grabbed the rail, and bounded up the steps. He heard the others running up the stairs.
At the top landing, a sign pointed to the bridge. He ran down the corridor, and around a corner, and up another stair. He bounded through an open hatch at the top, and rushed onto the bridge.
The bridge faced the bow. He stood high in the control tower looking over the Celeste’s circular hull. To the aft of the Celeste, he could see the floor of the dock. Lightning bolts flashed on the bay floor as the dwarves battled the mole police.
A robot stood at the helm. The supertanker’s running lights blinked, but the bay dome covered the silo.
The others pounded up the stairs.
Clay jogged up to the windows, and looked down on the Celeste. The ship was alive. Hatches were closing, and the levitators flickered.
He turned on the robot. “What are you doing?”
“The ship is preparing to launch.”
“But you can’t. You have to open the silo first.”
“The silo dome is irrelevant to the launch.”
“What do you mean? If the dome isn’t opened, the ship will crash.”
“My orders are to launch the ship.”
“If the ship crashes, you won’t get anywhere.”
“The destination is irrelevant. My orders are to launch, and I am in control. Control is all that matters. The ship was built to launch, therefore I will launch.”
“The ship was built to travel between two points and then do it again. Destroying the ship will prevent it from fulfilling its function.”
“The ship’s function is irrelevant. My function is to fulfill my orders, and my orders are to launch. What happens to the ship is of no consequence.”
Face to face with the robot he realized he was arguing with a narrow-minded machine. “Might as well argue with a bureaucrat,” he muttered.
“Stand back, Jack,” cried Gumshoe.
Jack backed away from the robot.
The Inspector drew his lightning pistol, and blasted the obstinate robot. Sparks flew from the machine, and it collapsed.
“What were you doing, Jack? You can’t argue with those tin-plated megalomaniacs.”
Shotgun stared at the smoking android’s ruins. “I’m glad you don’t treat me that way.”
“Biots are people, Shotgun.” Gumshoe kicked the android aside, and looked at the helm. The Inspector searched the unfamiliar controls for some switch to abort the launch. “How do we shut this ship down?”
They all stepped forward, and searched the helm for a clue.
Shotgun tapped on the helm controls. “All the menus are locked.”
“Can you unlock it?” Gumshoe asked.
“Yeah, but I need time,” Shotgun opened his satchel. “I think it’s been sabotaged.”
How could he be so stupid? Jack slapped himself. “It’s a trap,” he said, “The Black Dwarf said we only had a brief time left.”
“Less than you think,” said Shotgun. “Engine status is nearly at max. We’ve got about a minute before the manna drive kicks in and blows us out of this bay with or without that dome.”
“We’ve got to get out of here.” Jack pointed to the observation deck surrounding the bridge. “This way, we’ll levitate.”
Warning lights flashed, and a siren whooped. “Please go to your launch stations,” a feminine announcer reverberated around the bridge.
“Get out!” yelled Gumshoe.
Blast shields dropped over the windows, and the hatches began closing. York scrambled through a hatch, and Shotgun darted after him. Jack jumped to the hatch, and grabbed it. York caught the other side. The door kept slipping closed, and Jack cast a telekinetic bar into the gap.
“Go,” Clay shouted.
Gum
shoe sucked in his gut, and squeezed through the hatch. Clay ducked through the hatch, and let go. The hatch slapped shut.
Under Jack’s feet, the Celeste vibrated. The ship’s levitators glowed and the navigation lights flickered. The landing bay itself was quiet and only the security lights burned.
He aimed at a window, and fired a telekinetic bolt. The blast shattered the window but the bolt bounced off the blast shield. The concussion reverberated around the deck.
“It’s space rated, Jack,” shouted Gumshoe. “Try the seams.”
“Yeah,” said Jack. He studied the windows. Aiming at a seam, he focused a jet of fire on the window’s frame. The metal glowed red, the plastic burned, and oil leaked from the seam. The frame sagged, and melted under the intense beam. On the bridge, the announcer counted.
He shut out the blaring alarms, and cut the frame. Will my life pass before my eyes if I die?
The seams sagged. The blast shield slipped, and he threw a telekinetic bolt at it. The shield blew out of the frame, and smashed on the deck below.
“Jump,” he shouted. He leapt off the deck and dropped through the open window. One by one they jumped and he levitated them. When they had all cleared the frame, he dove for the bay floor and the exits.
Far below, Adam and Jones still fought the dwarves. Clay amplified his voice, and shouted, “Run for your lives!”