Michael managed to quickly counter each move the enemy ship made; keeping the Liberty out of the viewpoint of their attackers in a galactic game of hide and seek.
Beads of sweat continued to run down the sides of Michael’s face as he strained against the controls and concentrated hard on the manoeuvres he was making.
Finally the Liberty managed to come up behind the enemy vessel, it realised its mistake and tried a desperate attempt to evade them.
“Too late bitch!” Michael said as he pressed the control on the right hand grip of his chair.
The Liberties own particle cannon lashed out; the shot slammed into the enemy ships rear engines dead centre. The illuminated blue strip which was its main engines shattered and exploded under the force of the impact; the enemy ship slowed dramatically; without propulsion it was reduced to simply coasting on inertia. The Liberty looped around to perform an assault run on the stricken enemy ship; unleashing three torpedoes in quick succession.
As the Liberty shot past the rear of the stricken enemy ship the torpedoes struck home, three mighty explosions lit up the top of the enemy ship one after another as the torpedoes detonated; tearing apart the vessel, before the whole ship exploded in a gigantic fireball.
Michael watched the fiery remains of the ship gradually die down. “That’s for the Ulysses, you murdering bastards.”
“We should get back into plasma drive before any more Krenaran ships catch up with us,” Kerulithar suggested.
Soon the swirling plasma wake opened up again, and the Liberty leapt into plasma drive once more, leaving the debris of the destroyed Krenaran ship floating in space.
“How long is it before we reach Solarian space?” Vargev asked.
“It is a four day journey at our current speed,” Kerulithar replied.
“Let’s just pray to god, we don’t run into any more Krenarans on the way,” Michael said.
The Liberty carried on its journey through the swirling tunnel of colour that was plasma drive.
During this eerily quiet spell Michael realised he was extremely tired and very hungry after expending so much energy in that last battle.
“Hey Kerulithar, do you know where there is any food onboard?”
“There is a mess area on all Krenaran ships; however the food synthesisers only produce Krenaran food which may not be to your liking.”
“Is it okay to leave the pilot’s chair while in plasma drive?”
“Yes; we don’t have any course changes to make from here on in, it’s a straight journey.”
Michael set the grips in place and climbed out of the pilots’ chair.
Kerulithar arranged for a few crewmembers to keep watch on the command centre while they were away, just in case anything did happen; soon enough three other aliens arrived to replace them.
Together Michael, Vargev and Kerulithar left the command centre and headed toward the elevator. Kerulithar spoke the Krenaran word for mess area “Beliarath”, and soon they were whisked on their way.
When they arrived at the mess area they found a small rectangular room with a bare steel table in the centre, a couple of dead Krenarans were slumped face down upon it. There were several rather basic, black coloured chairs, arrayed rather haphazardly around this table, all in the typical rugged, yet spartan Krenaran style. In addition, a large and complex looking machine dominated one of the smaller walls.
Vargev and Michael heaved the bodies over to a corner in the room, they were extremely heavy and it took the two of them to move just one, Kerulithar’s tall, but fragile frame simply lacked the physical strength to help much. Finally, the three of them made their way to the machine.
“This is a food synthesiser,” Kerulithar said almost with a hint of condescension in his voice.
“Yes I know that, what’s on the menu?” Michael retorted.
“Well,” Kerulithar said furrowing his alien brow and looking up at the synthesiser. “There is Shash’lak brains, lung of Korvrat, Ralkos eggs, and Vormek stomach.”
“I think I’ll pass,” Michael replied; suddenly feeling a bout of nausea coming on.
“I’ll have the Ralkos eggs,” Vargev said. “They’re only eggs, how bad could they be?”
“Ralkos eggs come from the ferocious Ralkos bird. They are native to several planets throughout Krenaran territory, and are considered quite a delicacy,” Kerulithar pointed out.
“Toresh al Ralko,” The Solarian spoke into the food synthesiser. There was a muted mechanical whirring noise, and then a hatch opened. Two huge black eggs the size of watermelons, perched precariously on top of a steel bowl, was presented to Kerulithar.
“Ralkos eggs,” Kerulithar announced as he handed the bowl to Vargev; who wished he hadn’t asked, he nevertheless dutifully took the bowl over to the table and sat down.
Michael almost gagged when he looked at those horrific black eggs, but hunger drove him on. “I’ll have the lung of Korvrat?” He asked, “what do they have for drinks?”
“Galgrosh blood, and Neidrat bile.”
“Great,” Michael sighed nonchalantly. “Don’t they just have water?”
“You forget how expensive water is,” Kerulithar replied. “However they do have reconstituted water.” He said as he studied the panel on the food synthesiser once more, “it is not as good quality as the real thing but it will not make you ill.”
“What was the water reconstituted from?” Michael asked suspiciously; and then suddenly halted almost in mid sentence. “In fact; tell you what, I don’t want to know,” he said shaking his head.
And with that, they all sat down to eat possibly the worst meal in the history of the human race. Both Vargev and Michael gingerly tried their food, the big Russian Commando tried to break one of the eggs, he found it particularly resilient. Muttering a few Russian curses, he smashed it on the tabletop with a loud bang that shook everyone else’s dishes; nearly knocking Michael’s water off the table. Finally, the giant egg cracked and a thick, odd smelling purple ooze came seeping out of it. He felt quite nauseous at the thought of having to eat it.
Michael perceived that the Commando turned a shade of green. “What’s the matter; big tough Commando can’t eat rotten egg,” he said laughing.
“Yeah watch me,” Vargev retorted. And with an effort of will he pushed the thought to the back of his mind; and scooping up some of the foul smelling purple ooze onto his spoon he put it into his mouth, it was very bitter and had the consistency of thick condensed milk.
“Now it’s your turn,” Vargev replied almost retching; his stomach desperately trying to hold down some of that horrific egg he just ate. I’m going to feel that later, he thought.
Michael stared at the slimy lungs adorning his plate and with a little effort he managed to cut one with his knife. A cloudy colourless fluid spurted out across his plate; he backed off turning a sickly shade of green.
“Go on,” Vargev said encouraging him mischievously.
“I’m getting to it,” heaven help me, Michael thought as he picked up a piece of lung with his fork and slowly put it into his mouth.
There was an immediate salty taste to it, and it was very chewy; much like chewing on soft rubber. He quickly swallowed it down before it had a chance to come back up.
“What does it taste like?”
“Damn salty.”
“We could do with reprogramming the food synthesisers to something a little more palatable to humans,” Vargev said.
“I don’t even know if there is anyone aboard with the skills to do that; at the moment just keeping the ship running and making basic repairs are about the maximum the crew can handle. I could try but I’m only an ambassador, not a systems engineer. I wouldn’t know the first thing about what goes on inside there,” Kerulithar said.
“In that case, we could do with trying to find our equipment,” Vargev said; because I’m damn well not eating that shite again, he thought.
“Right,” Michael replied thinking the same. “Where is it located?”
“The Krenarans store all the equipment in the forward hold; deck four,” Kerulithar replied.
As he looked over at the slumped forms of the Krenaran bodies in the corner, a question flashed across Michael’s mind. “These Krenarans, why do they have white blood?”
