12. Chapter Ten
"Where is he, Clarence? Where is the Gary?"
Each word was spat out in a savage growl, and punctuated by Clarence being slammed into the wall and floor as the Lord Commander vented his frustration on the most convenient target. That he was wasting energy didn't matter so much to him at the moment as getting what he wanted: the Gary. Clarence cried out with every blow that landed, struggling to maintain his goggles and regain some small scrap of dignity.
"He was here," insisted Clarence desperately. "I left him and . . . and two others on Tarb III. I swear!"
"Maybe there's something wrong with my eyes." Secure in his oversized throne, the Lord Commander spoke with feigned rationality as he gestured at the display projected before him. "I'm looking at the readings in front of me. But they're telling me there's no one on the planet. Are my eyes wrong?"
There was no straightforward way out of this. "N-no," stammered Clarence, climbing to his feet. Dark gray blood showed on his bald pate and bruises were forming on his face, though not as dark as the marks on the Lord Commander.
"I heard you say the Gary was on Tarb III. Is something wrong with my hearing?"
"No," whimpered Clarence, looking for somewhere to hide, even if for just a moment. There was nothing. The room was vast and empty.
"Did you lie to me then?" suggested that oily-sweet voice of the Lord Commander, somehow managing to loom ominously from where he perched.
"N-No. I wouldn't. I left him here! I swear!"
"Without a ship. Without resources. Yet somehow, the Gary escaped?"
Clarence scrambled for a reason. Anything to keep that hideously strong power from slamming him into another wall panel. He was not so young that he could take much more of that. "He must have had a comm unit. He could have called for help. He's working for Avocato - the general must have sent help," he concluded with an audible gulp.
Those cold eyes bored into him, a serpent toying with its prey. The Lord Commander remained unconvinced and unmoved by Clarence's quaking fear. There must be something he could give, some offering to appease this angry god . . .
"Gary Goodspeed is in love with Avocato!" Clarence shouted, hysterical and terrified was more than willing to throw the likes of that primey into the fire first. His plans were lost, so he'd happily take everyone he could along with him. He felt that unseen force smash into him like a wave, snatching his breath away. He slid across the floor, coming to a stop beside the elaborate device rigged to tap into Mooncake's power. The small green creature was suspended in an energy field, helpless to move or save himself. He could wiggle and chirp, but little else. Mooncake cast Clarence a look of misery and hate before turning away. It was an eloquent gesture, driving home the simple fact that this dilemma was Clarence's fault. AVA had been right; this was a mistake. Something like remorse gnawed at Clarence, but it was less at betraying family and allies and more deeply connected to the loss of ten billion dropnoids.
The Lord Commander rolled his eyes. Not another one lusting after Avocato. Was the whole universe in love with that traitorous Ventrexian? "Spare me."
"No - no, I swear-"
"SILENCE!"
The command roiled through the air and the room, striking Clarence as hard as any blow he'd endured so far. He cowered where he lay, trying to be invisible.
"Lord Commander!"
General Viro's voice burst over the comm units, saving Clarence's existence.
"Whaaaat?" demanded the Lord Commander, furious at being interrupted when he was having a good time. Magenta fire glinted in his eyes for the briefest moment.
"Sir, Avocato's fleet just came out of lightfold!"
The Lord Commander grumbled and fought the desire to insist no, it was his fleet that Avocato had stolen. Viro had all the tact of a Zargon slug defending its warren. Instinctively, he glanced at the overlarge windows of the battle bridge. He was just in time to see one of the Mynn's escort ships erupt in a massive explosion, torpedoed to dust. He blinked, astonished. "Where are they?"
"Everywhere, sir. We're surrounded!"
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He had planned their arrival well. Ship after ship dropped out of lightfold jumps in concentric ranks around the Lord Commander's fleet and immediately took position. Standing on the bridge of the Imbara, Little Cato at his side, Avocato smirked to see the long, dark streaks of ionization built up on the hulls of the enemy incinerators. Disgraceful, but the tarnish made it easy to tell the two fleets apart at a glance. Viro was a poor disciplinarian, and he did not run a tight ship.
Even before the last of their ships had arrived, the rebels engaged. They had their orders and the element of surprise, and the captains never hesitated, but set straight to the assault. Torpedoes, rail guns, lasers all unleashed, and three escort ships were destroyed before the first shots were returned.
"Were they even at battle stations?" asked Little Cato. He was so used to the levels of preparation and professionalism from his father that the question wasn't rhetorical.
"This is what happens when you put a deranged pit fighter in command," Avocato replied, shaking his head. He paused, taking a few deep, slow breaths. He could feel the all-consuming cold creeping in on him. The bridge was warm, but not warm enough, and he needed to sit down. To his son he said, "Send down to our quarters for my t'Rakkidan uniform coat and something hot to drink," and to his helmsman he ordered, "Hold position on the flagship's starboard beam," before he calmly sat down in the captain's chair. He pressed a button on the arm of the chair. "All ships, this is General Avocato. Maintain fire. Attack sequence prime."
His hand was trembling when he released the button. He would have to be very careful. Collapsing now would be disastrous for the rebel ships. He keyed the communicator again, and before him a holographic image displayed the bridge of the Resistance flagship. "General Menendez."
"General Avocato," Tribore replied, looking completely pleased with himself and developments. "Do I have someone you want to see? I do!"
He reached offscreen, and with a yank and a yelp, Gary's startled face filled the image. Seeing Avocato, he sheepishly put a hand to his hair, blushing a bit as he said, "Hey, Avocato."
"Captain Goodspeed," Avocato replied with what was for him a great deal of emotion. Little Cato lost the battle not to smile at the quiet exchange. "Are your strike teams ready, General?"
"Are they? They are. Just give the word, General."
"The Tryvuulian and the Zintabo ships are due at any moment, and if they hold to their promise, so are some Infinity Guard cruisers. As soon as General Cataloupe gets here, I want you to launch. I don't want to risk the fighters before everyone is out of lightfold." He paused, still speaking to Tribore though his eyes were on Gary as he added, "Be careful."
"You, too," Gary replied, and the communication ended.
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"Richard! Give us a holo-display. I want to see the action," ordered Tribore.
Immediately the entire bridge of the old Infinity Guard starship was filled with a 3-D projection of the ongoing battle, ships, explosions, asteroids and planets included.
"That's a bit more than I anticipated, but - Oh, my! I can feel it. Well done. If we got paid, I'd put you in for a raise. Oh. That is a lot of pent-up frustration being expressed by that Ventrexian right now," announced Tribore as one of the Lord Commander's smaller Incinerators took a series of direct hits. Clearly impressed with the show, he smirked slyly at Gary. "You should be proud."
"Shut up, Tribore," was the snappiest comeback Gary's brain provided. This time tomorrow, he'd have a thousand witty and useless retorts, but at the moment, all he could think about was the soft expression in Avocato's eyes and the implications that the general was sitting down already. Gary wondered - did Tribore know? Was Avocato already worn out, or was he husbanding his strength? And dear god, did his brain have to pick that verb?
"So what are we waiting for?" he demanded, trying to divert Tribore's attention off of himself. He was rewarded with a knowing smirk.
"Cataloupe always likes to make an entrance."
By the tone of voice Tribore used, Gary suspected a bit of envy was in the air. "Okay . . . uh, he any good at it?"
A huff. "Much as I hate to admit it, he is. Very good at it. Flamboyant, even. His timing is impeccable and he keeps forgetting," - he made quotation marks with both hands to frame the word - "to tell me the name of his tailor."
"That's harsh, yo."
"Don't I know it. Ah! The Tryvuulians just arrived." He pointed downwards, where a dozen or more bulky Tryvuulian battleships appeared, blocking any escape that way. "Commander Thunder, Commander Thud, get all fighter wings to their ships," ordered Tribore. He was looking up, and sure enough, some elegant Zintabo ships dropped out of lightfold. There weren't enough Zintabo to shut off that route - the Ventrexians had yet to arrive.
"Stand by for launch." To Gary he said, "Avocato won't launch until all the battleships are here. A ship dropping out of lightfold sends out an ion surge that can wipe out something as small as a Hawk or a Ventrex fighter. He also won't risk anyone lightfolding right into the middle of a flight wing. I've seen it happen in the Infinity Guard. Very messy. Your strike team ready?"
His strike team consisted of Ash and Fox and a trio of repurposed SAMES robots, jacked up, punked out, and armed with heinous killer maintenance tools. Fox had found them stowed in a closet and got a few working, and Ash had stepped in as their stylist and went to town with spikes and chains and lace and anything else she could find, including what looked like a French maid's outfit, the origin of which Gary very firmly did NOT want to know. Gary had dubbed them Bo, Boobies, and Boyardee. If nothing else, they'd be good at eating lasers if things got sticky. And things always got sticky.
He shrugged, not really sure. "As they can be."
"Good. Get down to the docking bay and stand by. We'll launch as soon as the Ventrexians get their tails here. Thud's leading a four-ship team to drop you off, then he'll join up with the rest of the squadron. Call when you need pick up. Whoever is closest will get you."
"Got it," he said, and headed for the door.
"And Hoodspeed!" Tribore called after him.
Well, if nothing else, Tribore was gradually getting closer to getting his name right. Gary paused, turning. "Yo?"
"Destiny first, drinks second. I know a great watering hole. Sal's."
He grinned, pointing finger guns as he walked backwards. "First round's on me."
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"Now. Free me now. You have the Key. Open a rift. Free me."
The Lord Commander glowered, but obeyed. Invictus' timing could have been worse, but not by much. He coughed, spitting black phlegm, and rasped, "Power up the siphon! Launch all the fighters! And release the Hive!"
"Target past the ringed moon of Tarb III," whispered Invictus, invading his mind dominating his thoughts. "The fabric of space is weaker there."
He wanted to watch his Hive ships devour Avocato's super Incinerator. He deserved at least that much. But the niggling voice was insistent and swept aside his focus on the battle.
"Now."