SESSION 6

The Swordfish sliced through the air as Spike punched the throttle full out. She shuddered in complaint of the shortlisted pre-flight. A full one would have taken up time he didn't have.

"What the hell does that thing do?" He pondered as Topaz's warning echoed in his mind. "What did the psycho bitch mean by devastation?"

The blue expanse of the lake where the Bebop was currently docked winked into view. Good. Now all he had to do was reach it.

A shrill pitch shattered the air. He hunched over the controls, fighting the urge to cover his ears against the auditory assault. "Augh! What the hell?"

When he forced himself to look up again the horizon began to shimmy. Clouds of red dust rose into the air.

"Spike! Where are you?"

He winced, trying to concentrate on flying despite against the jumping landscape. "Halfway to the Bebop."

"Hurry, your ship is faster than mine! I'm right behind you. Everything I have is in that ship! Do what you have to do, get that damn device out of her!"

"What the hell do you think I'm trying to do?" He snapped through clenched teeth. "Can it, Jet! And let me fly!"

The waves of sound jostled the instrument readings, throwing the analog needles against the casings. Shit! That little wad of wires is doing all this?How could I have missed that? Off my Goddamn game.

He hissed as he rolled around another out-of-control craft in his way. A near miss. There was no time. He plunged down toward the bubbling lake. The deck of the Bebop rocked and surged like it was sitting in a gigantic boiling pot of water. Ripples circled out from the haul of the ship.

Without any guidance this was going to be an eye-shot into an erratic moving target. He narrowed his eyes and concentrated, trying to find some kind of pattern that did not exist. Closer and closer, he was running out of time.

"Have to wing it!"

Landing gear down, he glimpsed a small window. He tried to match the pitch of the deck and came down with a jarring smack! The wheels let off plumes of smoke into the hanger as he skidded her to a stop. Not his best landing.

He squeezed out of the gap of the opening cockpit and scrambled across the deck. The sheet metal shivered and shrieked as he plunged down the corridors. The sound waves pounded against his eardrums like relentless mallets. He rammed his hands against his ears. The closer he got to the workshop the more punishing it grew.

"Shit!"

Forcing himself around the corner into the room he found the case on the floor. The twin prongs of the metal fork vibrated the machine itself, briefcase and all, along a path. Stooping down, he snatched it and nearly dropped it. The bone-rattling gyrations threatened to shatter his arms.

There was no choice! He gritted his teeth and hauled it in a staggering gait down the corridor.

"Is this what a martini feels like?" He collided with the wall, closing his eyes against the waves still rocking the ship. His jaw clacked with each rapid cycle of the machine.

Which way was the flight deck? He cracked open his eyes, nothing remained stationary. The world reduced itself to fluid mechanics. And his body now acted as a useless buffer between the insidious device and the ship. This ship, his ticket off of this rock! Nothing was going to compromise that if he could help that!

With a snarl, he picked a direction and hoped he was right. He was a billiard ball bouncing off the sides of the violently pitching ship. The device threatened to shake itself from his aching fingers, so numbed from the assault they hurt!

A shaft of light drew him through the open hanger door, he stumbled past the Swordfish and the Hammerhead. The edge of the ship's deck rose and fell at the edge of his vision. Frothy water splashed up and down. The Bebop's hull groaned.

Spike's grip on the device wasn't enough to disrupt the destruction. The Bebop was going to break up if he didn't get it off the deck.

With a desperate cry, he heaved it back to one side and threw it into the air with all his strength. The momentum sent him plowing into the deck. The briefcase and its device tumbled with a splash into the water and sunk.

Lying on the deck, Spike's body continued to mimic the odd pulse of the machine he no longer held. Not surprising, the air itself still hummed with the oppressive wave. He staggered to his feet. The deck continued to pitch. The water roiled in the lake basin pushing the ship in a violent maelstrom. Each pulse shoving the bow higher and higher.

Spike rode it, trying to creep back to the door, but the angle of the dipping bow dragged him relentlessly toward the frothy waves. With each cock-screwed pulse the Bebop edged closer to capsizing. While Spike could swim, he doubted that human flesh would last long pounded by the machine's assault.

The deck lifted up beyond forty-five degrees and slammed back down. Water foamed over the deck. Spike's shoes lost all traction as gravity took over.

"Shiiiiit!" He clawed at the decking. A moment later the bucking deck launched him into the air and caught him roughly, inches from ramming into the bay doors. If he could get to the Swordfish …

But his hopes dwindled. Once more gravity raked him along the fore-deck. A wave crashed down and seized him. His fingertips skidded along without purchase.

He lost contact with the Bebop. The bubbling water counteracted any buoyancy his lanky body may have had. Floundering, he tried to catch a breath before the surface sealed the air from him. His fingers reached for something, anything! Underwater the crushing pulse intensified, transferring directly into his flesh. His eardrums nearly shattered.

A roar interrupted the rhythm. Spike's lungs screamed as he fought to hold his breath. The punishing pulse squeezed his chest like a sporadic vice.

Something firm rammed up underneath. The rough deck of the Bebop nudged against him. The sudden current forced him mercilessly into the firm surface with arms and legs splayed. Water washed away as the decking broke the surface.

Spike coughed and spat out the lake before gasping in a breath. The air never tasted so good. His hand tapped against his pocket. A sodden cigarette box squelched inside. He scowled at the loss.

But the cruel ride wasn't over. A wave slammed into the bow and kicked Bebop at an odd angle. With nothing to hang onto, Spike launched into the air. Gravity tumbled his flailing body across the deck.

Grimly, he realized the source of the roaring. The Bebop's engines. Jet was taking off. The bow struggled to break free of the turbulent waves. Each buck of the limping ship sent Spike jostling into another rough collision. On the slick deck there was nothing to grab onto.

A monster of a wave overshadowed the bow.

Spike gulped and took a deep breath. His fingers attempted a futile grip. Maybe a few seconds of considering where to throw the device might have been a better idea than his hasty dash.

Too late for that now.

Bebop's nose angled back up. She bucked on the rough water, straining as she careened to break free of the grasping waters. The monstrous wave still threatened her path.

He gritted his teeth. This is nothing like what I imagined for today when I stared through the bottom of a whiskey glass! Oh, crap … This … is gonna hurt.

Flat as possible, he clung for dear life. Bebop's bow smacked the wave and punched through it. Spike lost his grip. The force of the impact ripped him from the deck and flung him on a direct path with the hanger door.

"Ahhhh!" CLUNK!

Everything went dark and blessedly silent.

See you, Space Cowboy!