There were seven people cramped in the storage room at the front of the spaceship, two girls and...
Thousandverse Tales
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Rocky Voyage 1
There were seven people cramped in the storage room at the front of the spaceship, two girls and five boys. They hid out of sight of the staff within a small, crudely made cave of wooden crates stacked upon each other in the deepest part of the storage room. The area was unchecked, and so far out of the way that most ships of this specific make and capacity never really used them. Usually, this provided difficulties for hiding as there was nothing to hide behind apart from pipes supplying gases like oxygen, coolant and heating fluids.
Luckily, this ship used it for long term storage of stuff that was outdated but they couldn't really throw away. Old tables out of fashion, costumes, extreme perishables and minor mechanical parts.
The leader of the group crowded around a small map and had his hand pointed at the paper, his middle finger unlatched so he could use the torch hidden inside to shine a light on it. His clothes were as ragged as his black hair was, and his sandals were practically falling off his feet.
Even his metallic arm prosthetic was obvious, without the finger bent off, shining light in the dark.
"So we've snuck onto the wrong ship," he whispered. "Jo and Tekel overheard the staff. This isn't a cargo voyage, it's a cruise ship."
As he said that, Tekel and Jo nodded as their names were mentioned. Tekel was a lumbering brute who could easily pass for a fully grown overweight man, and Jo was a classical tomboy. They both wore a variation on dungarees made of something not denim, however Tekel's set barely fit his mass, tightly straining against him whilst Jo's set were ripped, forcing her to wear extra sets of clothes underneath that made her sweat.
"What kind of cruise, Micro?" Asked one of the smaller boys. It was a wise question.
Micro turned to make eye contact with the thin and short blonde. He broke eye contact to gaze at the map. "Wealthy, Ratty. Not rich enough to hire real security but they have the culture and stink about them."
"People who dinnae know where they came from," added the fourth boy, Click.
Ratty and Click were two opposites in the same build of a body. While not small, they were both a head shorter than Micro and other people their age, however their personalities this made them two different people entirely.
Rat was a cowardly teenager who was easily swayed and commanded by others and Clicks was an poorly restrained beast at the best of times, overloaded with a need to assert his strength to far tougher people.
"O-okay," Ratty murmured. Click leaned over from where he was crouching to give Ratty a small jab but his wrist was caught by Tekel. He shook his head slowly as Click growled at the larger boy.
"Um, I don't think you should do that."
Clicks' head spun to snarl at the second girl in the group. She shrunk in the suit that covered her from head to toe as she made eye contact.
"I was just gonnae to gie him a wee pat on the ba-"
"Stop," Micro said a little louder. "No messing about. None of you. We lay low, steal food and try to make it to port, then we sneak onto the correct ship this time, got it?"
He shined his light at each of the team, punctuating his insistence.
The last boy spoke up. "What about fun? I'll go absolutely insane if I have to do nothing cause of your pipe dreams of seeing daddy, Micro. You want another clicks on your hands?"
Micro's face and reply mirrored the ones Jo and Click pulled for a small moment as they replied all in unison; "Shut up, Earl."
Earl shrugged and sat back as silence passed slowly in the room.
He could barely hold his smile as he spat out one last parting swipe. "I bet Click'll get us caught this time."
-----
"Captain, we have a few... issues we'd like you to see."
Captain Erstboldt hated nothing more than being taken from meeting his passengers, especially for trivial issues. He politely waved goodbye to the couple in expensive clothes and tapped his earpiece.
"If this is just another a minor fuel leak I swear I'll toss you in the airlock and be done with you."
He made a turn into the lower decks and hurried his pace from stroll to walk. Impressive, for a man with such a girth. A girth he secretly maintained on deliberate, to placate his guests. The rich denizens of the Daniel Rougherby.
"We have stowaways we found fighting in the front cargo rooms, sir. Seven of them. We have them in the lower storage area as we speak, sir."
He sped up even more.
Not even an hour and we have this shit, the Captain thought.
-----
"...I honestly disliked that child from Marybol, I'm glad the debts caught up with..."
A young waitress with long blonde hair shook the conversations of drivel and petty sadism out of her immediate thoughts as she managed to get the last champagne class on her tray taken.
She wandered to the edge of the observation deck and deftly manoeuvred away from the crowds in a series of jukes and subtle steps, dancing out and away from the crowd. After she managed to step around the corner, she pulled out her earpiece, turned it off and pulled out a keycard to a private room.
"I fucking hate these kinds of people," she muttered to herself as the door unlocked.
-----
"Airlock them," the Captain ordered as soon as he got a look at them. They were all unworthy of stepping on his ship. As soon as he saw the dirt, the poor fittings, he wanted them gone.
Jo stood up. It was difficult to do so since they'd all been shackled to a railing on the wall but she managed anyway. "That's illegal. You have to take care of us because not only are we stowaways on a journey, we are all under the age of Veren Empire Stowaway Law!"
The captain looked at his crewman.
"I-uh... I'm not sure!" One mumbled, trying to remember his schooling. Captain Erstboldt raised an eyebrow, annoyed at his subordinate's incompetence.
"Bullshit. You're still stowaways," he smiled behind his beard, "and you thieving rats need to go."
"You can't kill children!" Jo cried out.
The captain took a step forwards and struck Jo across her face. "I'm the Captain and this is my ship! You can die if I say so, you little wannabe pirate fu-"
"We're still in range of station sensors," The captain's other assistant interrupted. "We'll get caught if we do it now."
Erstboldt breathed heavily from irritation at the seven stowaways before himself. "...how long?"
"What?"
"How long before I can fucking get rid of them?" He shouted again, louder this time.
"Well, we are technically going to be in sensor range almost all trip, sir..." The assistant wilted and took a step back, tapping at his handheld computer. "Oh! Um... we could be a one degree course correction and get out of range in three days! that's plenty of time to make it to Station Scorpio."
The captain smiled at a plan that formed in his mind.
AN: Some short story inspired by one of my other personal works, It'll be a quick 8-10 update romp, maybe.
Luckily, this ship used it for long term storage of stuff that was outdated but they couldn't really throw away. Old tables out of fashion, costumes, extreme perishables and minor mechanical parts.
The leader of the group crowded around a small map and had his hand pointed at the paper, his middle finger unlatched so he could use the torch hidden inside to shine a light on it. His clothes were as ragged as his black hair was, and his sandals were practically falling off his feet.
Even his metallic arm prosthetic was obvious, without the finger bent off, shining light in the dark.
"So we've snuck onto the wrong ship," he whispered. "Jo and Tekel overheard the staff. This isn't a cargo voyage, it's a cruise ship."
As he said that, Tekel and Jo nodded as their names were mentioned. Tekel was a lumbering brute who could easily pass for a fully grown overweight man, and Jo was a classical tomboy. They both wore a variation on dungarees made of something not denim, however Tekel's set barely fit his mass, tightly straining against him whilst Jo's set were ripped, forcing her to wear extra sets of clothes underneath that made her sweat.
"What kind of cruise, Micro?" Asked one of the smaller boys. It was a wise question.
Micro turned to make eye contact with the thin and short blonde. He broke eye contact to gaze at the map. "Wealthy, Ratty. Not rich enough to hire real security but they have the culture and stink about them."
"People who dinnae know where they came from," added the fourth boy, Click.
Ratty and Click were two opposites in the same build of a body. While not small, they were both a head shorter than Micro and other people their age, however their personalities this made them two different people entirely.
Rat was a cowardly teenager who was easily swayed and commanded by others and Clicks was an poorly restrained beast at the best of times, overloaded with a need to assert his strength to far tougher people.
"O-okay," Ratty murmured. Click leaned over from where he was crouching to give Ratty a small jab but his wrist was caught by Tekel. He shook his head slowly as Click growled at the larger boy.
"Um, I don't think you should do that."
Clicks' head spun to snarl at the second girl in the group. She shrunk in the suit that covered her from head to toe as she made eye contact.
"I was just gonnae to gie him a wee pat on the ba-"
"Stop," Micro said a little louder. "No messing about. None of you. We lay low, steal food and try to make it to port, then we sneak onto the correct ship this time, got it?"
He shined his light at each of the team, punctuating his insistence.
The last boy spoke up. "What about fun? I'll go absolutely insane if I have to do nothing cause of your pipe dreams of seeing daddy, Micro. You want another clicks on your hands?"
Micro's face and reply mirrored the ones Jo and Click pulled for a small moment as they replied all in unison; "Shut up, Earl."
Earl shrugged and sat back as silence passed slowly in the room.
He could barely hold his smile as he spat out one last parting swipe. "I bet Click'll get us caught this time."
-----
"Captain, we have a few... issues we'd like you to see."
Captain Erstboldt hated nothing more than being taken from meeting his passengers, especially for trivial issues. He politely waved goodbye to the couple in expensive clothes and tapped his earpiece.
"If this is just another a minor fuel leak I swear I'll toss you in the airlock and be done with you."
He made a turn into the lower decks and hurried his pace from stroll to walk. Impressive, for a man with such a girth. A girth he secretly maintained on deliberate, to placate his guests. The rich denizens of the Daniel Rougherby.
"We have stowaways we found fighting in the front cargo rooms, sir. Seven of them. We have them in the lower storage area as we speak, sir."
He sped up even more.
Not even an hour and we have this shit, the Captain thought.
-----
"...I honestly disliked that child from Marybol, I'm glad the debts caught up with..."
A young waitress with long blonde hair shook the conversations of drivel and petty sadism out of her immediate thoughts as she managed to get the last champagne class on her tray taken.
She wandered to the edge of the observation deck and deftly manoeuvred away from the crowds in a series of jukes and subtle steps, dancing out and away from the crowd. After she managed to step around the corner, she pulled out her earpiece, turned it off and pulled out a keycard to a private room.
"I fucking hate these kinds of people," she muttered to herself as the door unlocked.
-----
"Airlock them," the Captain ordered as soon as he got a look at them. They were all unworthy of stepping on his ship. As soon as he saw the dirt, the poor fittings, he wanted them gone.
Jo stood up. It was difficult to do so since they'd all been shackled to a railing on the wall but she managed anyway. "That's illegal. You have to take care of us because not only are we stowaways on a journey, we are all under the age of Veren Empire Stowaway Law!"
The captain looked at his crewman.
"I-uh... I'm not sure!" One mumbled, trying to remember his schooling. Captain Erstboldt raised an eyebrow, annoyed at his subordinate's incompetence.
"Bullshit. You're still stowaways," he smiled behind his beard, "and you thieving rats need to go."
"You can't kill children!" Jo cried out.
The captain took a step forwards and struck Jo across her face. "I'm the Captain and this is my ship! You can die if I say so, you little wannabe pirate fu-"
"We're still in range of station sensors," The captain's other assistant interrupted. "We'll get caught if we do it now."
Erstboldt breathed heavily from irritation at the seven stowaways before himself. "...how long?"
"What?"
"How long before I can fucking get rid of them?" He shouted again, louder this time.
"Well, we are technically going to be in sensor range almost all trip, sir..." The assistant wilted and took a step back, tapping at his handheld computer. "Oh! Um... we could be a one degree course correction and get out of range in three days! that's plenty of time to make it to Station Scorpio."
The captain smiled at a plan that formed in his mind.
AN: Some short story inspired by one of my other personal works, It'll be a quick 8-10 update romp, maybe.
Last edited:
Rocky Voyage 2
Sebastian slowly paced to his room with a relaxed pace, mostly due to focusing on not collapsing onto the floor in a drunken mess. He swayed slightly to the side, partially out of said drunkeness and partially to let the Captain of the ship and the crew member behind him passage. They stormed past him with a grin before he whirled back around and tried to open his door.
It was locked, but there was noise at the other side. He felt his pockets and sighed.
The bang of his head hitting the door made everything quiet.
"Caarrllaa," slurred Sebastian. "Lemmie in, I knoow you stole my caaarrd."
He leaned backwards slightly as the door opened and a short woman with tanned skin and blonde hair opened the door to him.
She was dressed in a set of clothes that were more for utility than show. Trousers, shirt, belt of tools and a jacket.
Carla took one look at his state and frowned. "Dammit, Sebastian."
Sebastian smiled and fell forwards into the room, landing on his stomach.
"Supposed to catch me," he mumbled as Carla moved his feet out the way to close the door.
"You're supposed to be casing the guests."
Sebastian rolled out the way from Carla's small kick, dodging her completely. Carla thought about trying for a second kick, but Sebastian was already on his feet by then, slowly and drunkenly moving about in a chaotic and comical stumble.
"Most of the peeeoplllee there are aallll the same," Sebastian shrugged. "The jewellererery's real on half of themm though. We'll make aaa profit."
Carla watched as her partner in crime stumbled over to the bed and pulled out a suitcase under it. He opened it up and pulled out a small computer.
"You placed the bugs?" Sebastian asked. "I'm not as good as you are with stuff..."
"You aren't good at many things," Carla snapped. "Everything's in place, we're just waiting for Poker and Champ to send a message for the all clear."
"Ah, probleeemm."
Carla turned to Sebastian. "There's a problem? What kind?"
"Nothing wweee could fiiix. The Captain just modified the traject... the rejectory three seconds ago, maybe."
Carla stomped over and grabbed the laptop to Sebastian's protests.
"Fuck."
"No problem. It's just a prooblemo for Poker," the drunken man slurred out. "He mi-may miss us."
Carla didn't buy Sebastian's attempt at reassurance. She bit her fake nails in stress.
This was going to e a long voyage.
-----
"Hey, you!"
"Don't do it," Earl warned. "the guards might take it out on someone but you, Click."
Click ignored him and focused on the two guards standing watch over them. "You, you bald headed cunt! What the fuck is it with you tying up kids? Are you some beast?"
The guard without hair didn't budge. His partner, the man with the black curls made a glare at Click, but quickly shook it out of his mind. They both continued to sit around the table and read.
"See when I get out of here I'm gonna scalp you and use her bald head as a fucking mirror, you wanker. I'll be using your shiny wee-"
"You're going out last," the second guard said, not even looking away from his book.
"We're going to throw you out last, but before then I'm going to make sure you see your fucking ratty orphan friends pop like balloons when they get tossed out that fucking airlock while the guests cheer."
Micro suppressed a smile. He could always bet on people saying something they shouldn't while annoyed.
"I don't see you denying you're a beast. Is that why you're working as a babysitter rather than have an actual fucking job?"
Ratty shrunk where he was sitting, mainly because he was closest to Click. Micro noticed that everyone also moved away slightly, even Earl. He was glad since the shuffling masked the sound of his hand changing shape to escape the manacles before opening up to become wire cutters.
The guard with hair turned to face the captives and put his book down.
"You're Click, am I correct?"
"Well it's not fucking Dearie," Clicks shouted back. "That's your name!"
The bald guard reached over to grab his friend's attention. "Look, Peter-"
Peter broke away and stood up. "I wonder if you'll be called crunch once I've fucking broke your little-"
Whatever Peter was about to say was cut short as the lights went out.
Sadly for the guards, there was only three people who could see n the dark in that room. Peter nor the bald man were on the list.
Snip.
"Hey, get a lightball out, Something's going on with-"
Thud.
"Peter?"
Whirrrrr...
"What the hell, Peter?!"
The curly haired man managed to light the room with a lightball. A small sphere of portable, glowing light.
It lit up himself, reaching for his gun. It lit up six of the seven stowaways, still shackled to the ship. It lit up Peter, bleeding out on the floor with a hole through his eye. It lit up the wires and pipes of the room, several visibly cut.
It lit up Micro's hand, which had changed shape into a small mining drill. As it spun, blood sprayed around it, flecks hitting the ceiling, walls, floor and finally the guard's face.
The distance was too small for the guard to draw in time. Micro had already closed the gap, and the drill cut through flesh like wet toilet paper.
-----
This ship hovering through space, heading towards the Daniel Rougherby wasn't a ship fit for safe space travel by any standards. It had welds to patch leaks of air to the outside, a small window in the corner of the room that looked like it was from a house, wires and piping was filled everywhere and the bathroom door was half-destroyed. The cleanest part was the four bunk beds in the second room of few within the ship, but even those were messily made.
Outside, it had a jagged form that screamed deathtrap at the top of it's lungs to the untrained eye. Only when you looked at the volume of plating and position of the engines did you see the purpose of the ship.
It was a battering ram.
A muscular man with obviously metallic arms was busy watching a screen that was showing some televised program. His partner, a thin man who looked frail to the point of chronic malnourishment was typing away at two separate keyboards while looking at three monitors, piloting the ship.
One of the screens beeped and the thin man raised an eyebrow.
"Hey, Champ?"
The big guy looked at the pilot.
"Looks like we come to the party early, what do you think?"
Champ picked up a remote precariously placed on his stomach and turned off the television.
"I'm ready."
It was locked, but there was noise at the other side. He felt his pockets and sighed.
The bang of his head hitting the door made everything quiet.
"Caarrllaa," slurred Sebastian. "Lemmie in, I knoow you stole my caaarrd."
He leaned backwards slightly as the door opened and a short woman with tanned skin and blonde hair opened the door to him.
She was dressed in a set of clothes that were more for utility than show. Trousers, shirt, belt of tools and a jacket.
Carla took one look at his state and frowned. "Dammit, Sebastian."
Sebastian smiled and fell forwards into the room, landing on his stomach.
"Supposed to catch me," he mumbled as Carla moved his feet out the way to close the door.
"You're supposed to be casing the guests."
Sebastian rolled out the way from Carla's small kick, dodging her completely. Carla thought about trying for a second kick, but Sebastian was already on his feet by then, slowly and drunkenly moving about in a chaotic and comical stumble.
"Most of the peeeoplllee there are aallll the same," Sebastian shrugged. "The jewellererery's real on half of themm though. We'll make aaa profit."
Carla watched as her partner in crime stumbled over to the bed and pulled out a suitcase under it. He opened it up and pulled out a small computer.
"You placed the bugs?" Sebastian asked. "I'm not as good as you are with stuff..."
"You aren't good at many things," Carla snapped. "Everything's in place, we're just waiting for Poker and Champ to send a message for the all clear."
"Ah, probleeemm."
Carla turned to Sebastian. "There's a problem? What kind?"
"Nothing wweee could fiiix. The Captain just modified the traject... the rejectory three seconds ago, maybe."
Carla stomped over and grabbed the laptop to Sebastian's protests.
"Fuck."
"No problem. It's just a prooblemo for Poker," the drunken man slurred out. "He mi-may miss us."
Carla didn't buy Sebastian's attempt at reassurance. She bit her fake nails in stress.
This was going to e a long voyage.
-----
"Hey, you!"
"Don't do it," Earl warned. "the guards might take it out on someone but you, Click."
Click ignored him and focused on the two guards standing watch over them. "You, you bald headed cunt! What the fuck is it with you tying up kids? Are you some beast?"
The guard without hair didn't budge. His partner, the man with the black curls made a glare at Click, but quickly shook it out of his mind. They both continued to sit around the table and read.
"See when I get out of here I'm gonna scalp you and use her bald head as a fucking mirror, you wanker. I'll be using your shiny wee-"
"You're going out last," the second guard said, not even looking away from his book.
"We're going to throw you out last, but before then I'm going to make sure you see your fucking ratty orphan friends pop like balloons when they get tossed out that fucking airlock while the guests cheer."
Micro suppressed a smile. He could always bet on people saying something they shouldn't while annoyed.
"I don't see you denying you're a beast. Is that why you're working as a babysitter rather than have an actual fucking job?"
Ratty shrunk where he was sitting, mainly because he was closest to Click. Micro noticed that everyone also moved away slightly, even Earl. He was glad since the shuffling masked the sound of his hand changing shape to escape the manacles before opening up to become wire cutters.
The guard with hair turned to face the captives and put his book down.
"You're Click, am I correct?"
"Well it's not fucking Dearie," Clicks shouted back. "That's your name!"
The bald guard reached over to grab his friend's attention. "Look, Peter-"
Peter broke away and stood up. "I wonder if you'll be called crunch once I've fucking broke your little-"
Whatever Peter was about to say was cut short as the lights went out.
Sadly for the guards, there was only three people who could see n the dark in that room. Peter nor the bald man were on the list.
Snip.
"Hey, get a lightball out, Something's going on with-"
Thud.
"Peter?"
Whirrrrr...
"What the hell, Peter?!"
The curly haired man managed to light the room with a lightball. A small sphere of portable, glowing light.
It lit up himself, reaching for his gun. It lit up six of the seven stowaways, still shackled to the ship. It lit up Peter, bleeding out on the floor with a hole through his eye. It lit up the wires and pipes of the room, several visibly cut.
It lit up Micro's hand, which had changed shape into a small mining drill. As it spun, blood sprayed around it, flecks hitting the ceiling, walls, floor and finally the guard's face.
The distance was too small for the guard to draw in time. Micro had already closed the gap, and the drill cut through flesh like wet toilet paper.
-----
This ship hovering through space, heading towards the Daniel Rougherby wasn't a ship fit for safe space travel by any standards. It had welds to patch leaks of air to the outside, a small window in the corner of the room that looked like it was from a house, wires and piping was filled everywhere and the bathroom door was half-destroyed. The cleanest part was the four bunk beds in the second room of few within the ship, but even those were messily made.
Outside, it had a jagged form that screamed deathtrap at the top of it's lungs to the untrained eye. Only when you looked at the volume of plating and position of the engines did you see the purpose of the ship.
It was a battering ram.
A muscular man with obviously metallic arms was busy watching a screen that was showing some televised program. His partner, a thin man who looked frail to the point of chronic malnourishment was typing away at two separate keyboards while looking at three monitors, piloting the ship.
One of the screens beeped and the thin man raised an eyebrow.
"Hey, Champ?"
The big guy looked at the pilot.
"Looks like we come to the party early, what do you think?"
Champ picked up a remote precariously placed on his stomach and turned off the television.
"I'm ready."
Last edited:
Rocky Voyage 3
Micro wasted no time freeing his fellow stowaways, Click last.
They all gathered themselves and worriedly chattered, right up until Micro said "Enough."
"Here's the issue. We're on a ship where the captain is trying to kill us and the guests will probably love to see us killed. We're outnumbered, and there's no convenient way for us to win this fight."
His grim face in the light of the lightball, stained red with blood made the somber mood menacing.
"So we flee. Break the main ship and escape in an emergency pod. There's a few planets in outer space nearby on the route this ship is supposed to be taking."
Click clicked his teeth. "We run like cowards, you mean."
Micro grabbed him with his metallic hand and slammed him into the wall.
"Fighting is not an option!" he screamed. "I'm not going to get us all killed!"
Click smirked, but let it fall away when he saw just how angry Micro was. "Even though you'd love to, right?"
"Yes! Even though ninety percent of the bastards upstairs would be better off gone! Those sick fucks who'd have people killed because they looked dirty in front of them, who wage stupid secret wars because of fucking backward pool measuring contests! Yes, even then! No killing!"
He dropped Click and pointedly pretended to not notice the two guards he had killed already.
"We split up. Tekel, Jo, Earl, Ratty? You four mess with the functions of the ship. Cut the engines, cut the coms, eject the cargo, do what you need to. Click, August? You're with me. We're going to find the pods."
The two groups split up as soon as they left the cargo hold, Tekel's group heading to the captain's bridge and Tekel heading to the civilian entrance
The light grey walled and red carpeted flooring of the hallways was painfully sterile and gave Ratty unease. Nowhere to hide in a confrontation. Nowhere to run. Tekel moved with purpose, stopping at every intersection and checking for staff or guests. He could handle them, but it was better to be stealthy.
"Ladies and Gentlemen," The intercom announced. "Great news; we have several stowaways. This is a bad thing I agree but that's where the good news comes in. We'll be throwing them out of the airlock as our ship has taken a small detour to avoid Station Sensors, so please wait for tonight's entertainment later on."
Ratty nearly squealed in terror. He just announced it to the guests! What kind of ship was this? Even slavers didn't do this stuff!
Jo pulled him down the hallway. "Let's hurry before things get worse, okay?"
---
"Shit," Carla mumbled. "They're onto us, right?"
Sebastian frowned, the alcohol fading. "That's what our weapons are for, right?"
"Yes, but-"
"We'll just have to carve our way out until backup arrives. Don't worry. No witnesses, no issues."
He sat up, a sinister gleam in his eyes. "Besides, they deserve it."
---
It wasn't long before somebody would run into a guest. Sadly, it was Micro, August and Click.
A married couple was exiting their room when they turned and saw the trio down the hall. Hesitation made both sides pause, but then August spoke.
"Are they armed?"
"They're always fucking armed," Clicks snapped.
Micro wanted to tell the boy to stop but he was right. The lady shot her hand into her handbag while the husband pointed his cane at them. Click took his cue and moved to the ball of his feet, crouched down and jumped forwards.
His shoes weren't really shoes, but jetboots. Add that to Click's incredible sense of balance, and you have a teenage rocket flying through the hallway, scorching carpet and walls as two rich maniacs haven't even fired yet.
The husband does let a round off his cane, but Click flies under it and smashes right into his legs, spinning him in the air and making him land with a groan. The wife turns to where click was, but he had boosted to the roof of the hallway by the time she fully turned around and flicked the safety.
He dived down with full force, his hands wrapping around her head and smashing it against the floor.
The husband was already up again, coughing up bile. He felt the splash of blood and turned to his wife's unconscious body.
"Mary! You bas-"
Click put his heel against the man's face and kicked backwards with his rocket. They both bounced against opposite hallway walls. Micro and August were already next to him by the time he got up.
"You didn't kill them," said Micro. Accusingly.
"You didn't want me to. So I made them as good looking on the outside as they are on the inside."
The husband groaned, parts of his face charred and bubbling with burns. 'Mary' rolled to her side, her nose deformed and front teeth missing in a pool of blood.
Click slyly pocketed a tooth as they made their way to the Escape pods.
---
"Captain, look over there!"
Captain Erstboldt turned to his first mate, who was pointing directly outside the viewing port. "What?"
"It's a ship, it's-"
It was a ship alright, but a jagged, armoured spear of a thing. And it was charging through the centre of the cruise ship. The thing tore through the hull like paper, and many alarms blared as important liquids and gases were lost, automatically closing valves as the damage grew and the javelin ship tore a larger and larger hole.
At one point, Erstboldt watched on, horrified at the niggling thought that it would cleave the Daniel Rougherby in two before leaving. But it stopped, and the ship lay embedded in Erstboldt's pride, a lethal wound.
Carrying parasites. Two spacesuits climbed out of the javelin, and with hoses, the flew down to the hole they had made, batting away debris and dodging a stray guest killed by the breach.
Pirates.
---
"Micro, you there?"
Tekel was fine, Ratty was fine, Earl was fine and Jo was fine.
"I'm there. No injuries, just a little shocked."
Micro, August and Click were fine. But the situation was not fine. Pirates were aboard the ship. The two way brawl became a three way mess up, and everyone was divided. Ratty and Earl were at the other side of the hall, separated as blast doors came down and they split up to avoid metal spearing through the walls and killing them. That meant they had to regroup and find a way to escape.
Pirates were a big enough distraction.
"Good job on the distraction," Micro quipped. "You've come a long way. Get to us and We'll flee."
"One problem, Micro."
"Yeah?"
"Ratty and Earl are in outer space."
They all gathered themselves and worriedly chattered, right up until Micro said "Enough."
"Here's the issue. We're on a ship where the captain is trying to kill us and the guests will probably love to see us killed. We're outnumbered, and there's no convenient way for us to win this fight."
His grim face in the light of the lightball, stained red with blood made the somber mood menacing.
"So we flee. Break the main ship and escape in an emergency pod. There's a few planets in outer space nearby on the route this ship is supposed to be taking."
Click clicked his teeth. "We run like cowards, you mean."
Micro grabbed him with his metallic hand and slammed him into the wall.
"Fighting is not an option!" he screamed. "I'm not going to get us all killed!"
Click smirked, but let it fall away when he saw just how angry Micro was. "Even though you'd love to, right?"
"Yes! Even though ninety percent of the bastards upstairs would be better off gone! Those sick fucks who'd have people killed because they looked dirty in front of them, who wage stupid secret wars because of fucking backward pool measuring contests! Yes, even then! No killing!"
He dropped Click and pointedly pretended to not notice the two guards he had killed already.
"We split up. Tekel, Jo, Earl, Ratty? You four mess with the functions of the ship. Cut the engines, cut the coms, eject the cargo, do what you need to. Click, August? You're with me. We're going to find the pods."
The two groups split up as soon as they left the cargo hold, Tekel's group heading to the captain's bridge and Tekel heading to the civilian entrance
The light grey walled and red carpeted flooring of the hallways was painfully sterile and gave Ratty unease. Nowhere to hide in a confrontation. Nowhere to run. Tekel moved with purpose, stopping at every intersection and checking for staff or guests. He could handle them, but it was better to be stealthy.
"Ladies and Gentlemen," The intercom announced. "Great news; we have several stowaways. This is a bad thing I agree but that's where the good news comes in. We'll be throwing them out of the airlock as our ship has taken a small detour to avoid Station Sensors, so please wait for tonight's entertainment later on."
Ratty nearly squealed in terror. He just announced it to the guests! What kind of ship was this? Even slavers didn't do this stuff!
Jo pulled him down the hallway. "Let's hurry before things get worse, okay?"
---
"Shit," Carla mumbled. "They're onto us, right?"
Sebastian frowned, the alcohol fading. "That's what our weapons are for, right?"
"Yes, but-"
"We'll just have to carve our way out until backup arrives. Don't worry. No witnesses, no issues."
He sat up, a sinister gleam in his eyes. "Besides, they deserve it."
---
It wasn't long before somebody would run into a guest. Sadly, it was Micro, August and Click.
A married couple was exiting their room when they turned and saw the trio down the hall. Hesitation made both sides pause, but then August spoke.
"Are they armed?"
"They're always fucking armed," Clicks snapped.
Micro wanted to tell the boy to stop but he was right. The lady shot her hand into her handbag while the husband pointed his cane at them. Click took his cue and moved to the ball of his feet, crouched down and jumped forwards.
His shoes weren't really shoes, but jetboots. Add that to Click's incredible sense of balance, and you have a teenage rocket flying through the hallway, scorching carpet and walls as two rich maniacs haven't even fired yet.
The husband does let a round off his cane, but Click flies under it and smashes right into his legs, spinning him in the air and making him land with a groan. The wife turns to where click was, but he had boosted to the roof of the hallway by the time she fully turned around and flicked the safety.
He dived down with full force, his hands wrapping around her head and smashing it against the floor.
The husband was already up again, coughing up bile. He felt the splash of blood and turned to his wife's unconscious body.
"Mary! You bas-"
Click put his heel against the man's face and kicked backwards with his rocket. They both bounced against opposite hallway walls. Micro and August were already next to him by the time he got up.
"You didn't kill them," said Micro. Accusingly.
"You didn't want me to. So I made them as good looking on the outside as they are on the inside."
The husband groaned, parts of his face charred and bubbling with burns. 'Mary' rolled to her side, her nose deformed and front teeth missing in a pool of blood.
Click slyly pocketed a tooth as they made their way to the Escape pods.
---
"Captain, look over there!"
Captain Erstboldt turned to his first mate, who was pointing directly outside the viewing port. "What?"
"It's a ship, it's-"
It was a ship alright, but a jagged, armoured spear of a thing. And it was charging through the centre of the cruise ship. The thing tore through the hull like paper, and many alarms blared as important liquids and gases were lost, automatically closing valves as the damage grew and the javelin ship tore a larger and larger hole.
At one point, Erstboldt watched on, horrified at the niggling thought that it would cleave the Daniel Rougherby in two before leaving. But it stopped, and the ship lay embedded in Erstboldt's pride, a lethal wound.
Carrying parasites. Two spacesuits climbed out of the javelin, and with hoses, the flew down to the hole they had made, batting away debris and dodging a stray guest killed by the breach.
Pirates.
---
"Micro, you there?"
Tekel was fine, Ratty was fine, Earl was fine and Jo was fine.
"I'm there. No injuries, just a little shocked."
Micro, August and Click were fine. But the situation was not fine. Pirates were aboard the ship. The two way brawl became a three way mess up, and everyone was divided. Ratty and Earl were at the other side of the hall, separated as blast doors came down and they split up to avoid metal spearing through the walls and killing them. That meant they had to regroup and find a way to escape.
Pirates were a big enough distraction.
"Good job on the distraction," Micro quipped. "You've come a long way. Get to us and We'll flee."
"One problem, Micro."
"Yeah?"
"Ratty and Earl are in outer space."