Great Muff Tarragon stood on the primary bridge of the Devastator Station, hands linked primly behind his back.
He actually spent quite a lot of time standing on the bridge, staring out into space. All that emptiness was oddly comforting—and besides, it gave him an excuse to avoid spending time with the wife and kids. Currently he was staring at the blue-green planet which was centred in the view screen.
Barth Vapour marched onto the bridge, followed by four Shock Troopers. In the midst of the group of troopers, wrists shackled, was Princess Labia Orgasma. She still wore the diaphanous white robe she had been wearing when she had recorded the begging message for General K'nobby. Since then she had been stunned, dragged through the hallways of her ship, held prisoner for days, and interrogated. Consequently her dress was stained with a number of noxious substances—perspiration was the least of her worries—and ripped in several places. Her long hair was draped loosely around her shoulders and, since she had not had access to a hairbrush during her captivity, it was beginning to look as though a family of field mice was nesting in it. Her face was smeared with sweat and dirt, and it looked as though she had been crying recently.
Lurk's deepest suspicions would have been vindicated. Given the state of her clothing, it was readily apparent that she wore nothing beneath it.
She stood proudly, however. She was a member of the ruling family of Alderbark, and she would show these Imperial barbarians that it took more than a little discomfort to break her spirit.
"Ah, Tarragon," she said strongly, "I might have expected to find you holding Vapour's leash. I thought I detected your delicate herbal aroma as I was brought on board."
Tarragon sniffed. "Charming to the last," he said, "except for that unfortunate foul stench you appear to be wearing. You don't know how hard I was when I signed the order for your execution."
"Um," said Labia, suddenly aware of how little her clothing still covered. "Indeed. I'm surprised you had the courage to admit it."
"Princess Labia, I would like you to be present for a little ceremony before we execute you." Tarragon smiled. On him, a smile was not a friendly expression. "The first firing of this station's primary weapon, thereby bringing us fully operational. After this, no star system will dare to rebel against the Imperator."
Labia shrugged, and then wished she hadn't as the Great Muff's eyes flickered down to her breasts. "The more you tighten your grip around them, the more they will slip through your fingers. Star systems, that is. The more systems will slip through your fingers." Damn, she thought, don't need to start giving the old pervert ideas!
"Not after we demonstrate the full power of this station," said Tarragon. "In a way, you have determined the target for our first test firing. We would prefer something with more strategic value, of course, but we don't know where the Rebel base is, so we shall have to try it out here instead." He waved one hand briefly at the view screen before clasping the hand behind his back again.
Labia looked. "No," she protested. Suddenly all the strength was gone from her, and she sagged backwards; Barth Vapour was right behind her, and she found herself backed up against the rubbery stillsuit he always wore. "Not Alderbark. You can't. We are a peaceful people, we have no weapons of any kind."
"Well," said Tarragon, "perhaps you should have thought of that before you ran away to join the Rebellion."
"That's not fair," said Labia. "Punish me if you must, but you can't destroy a whole planet for the actions of a single person."
"You would prefer another target?" asked Tarragon. "A military target? Then name the system."
"I..." Labia looked at the planet hanging in space, so small and blue and defenceless. So fragile. "I... They... Dentakleen," she sobbed. "They're on Dentakleen."
"You see, Lord Vapour," said Tarragon. "She can be reasonable." He looked up briefly at Vapour, glanced down again at Labia's breasts, then turned away.
"Commander," he said, "you may fire when ready."
"What?" Labia screamed at him. "You can't be serious."
"You are far too trusting, my dear. We will get to your Rebel friends on Dentakleen in good time, but it is far too remote a planet to make an effective demonstration of our capability. Alderbark, on the other hand, will make all the major news feeds."
Labia stared at the view screen in horror. Around them, the whole station began to hum as the primary weapon built its charge. Enormous energies had to be stored, in order to be released in a microsecond. The hum grew louder. Soon the deck beneath their feet began to vibrate. One of the bridge lights flickered uncertainly. Several more dimmed. There was a loud whoosh, and a brilliant flare of light on the screen as the weapon fired its bolt of seething destructive energy towards Alderbark. The screen went dark, its compensation circuits dampening the flash.
"No," whispered Labia.
The screen lightened again. In its centre, the blue-green planet still floated against the blackness of space.
Utter silence gripped the bridge for a moment, except for the mechanical hiss of Vapour's breathing.
"Commander," said Tarragon softly. "Why is there still a planet in our space?"
"Um, I don't..." The Commander's fingers flashed across his console as he collated reports from a dozen stations and a hundred sensors. "It seems that, uh, that we missed. Sir."
"Commander," said Tarragon. "It is a planet. One does not miss a planet. One does not fire a warning shot across the bow of a planet."
"Yes sir," said the Commander. "No sir. No sir."
"Why did we miss, Commander?" asked Tarragon. His voice was calm and quiet, and held the promise of a very unpleasant future for the person who had screwed up.
"Uh, it looks like a, uh, a glitch in the targeting software, Sir." The Commander sounded slightly more relaxed now that it was no longer his fault; now that he had somebody to blame. "According to the computer, we were aimed dead-centre. All the sensor diagnostics are reading normal, so it must be the software."
"Well, get it fixed, Commander," said Tarragon. "Before too many of them escape, if you please; they know we're here now, so they're unlikely to just sit tight."
"Yes sir," said the Commander.
"And you," Tarragon pointed to Labia's Shock Trooper escort. "Return her to her cell. My apologies, your highness, but there has been a slight technical hitch. We shall get around to our little christening ceremony in due course."
"Take your time," said Labia. "Take as long as you want; don't hurry on my account."
"Don't worry, Princess," said Tarragon, "I'll be sure to transmit the video feed of the event direct to your cell."
The Shock Troopers marched Labia out of the room.
"This is a little unfortunate," said Vapour. "And more than a little embarrassing, I would imagine."
"Don't you start," muttered Tarragon.
Seepy Weepy stood in a corner of the small lounge area of the Serendipity Sparrow, watching Arty Farty and Shagpyle Duphus as they played a game of four dimensional Brockian Ultra Chess. Mal sat on the far side of the room; it was always wise to keep one's distance when Shaggus was playing chess, because he was a bad player and a sore loser. Lurk and Bent sat together a little distance away. Bent K'nobby rubbed his forehead, a look of vague discomfort on his face.
"Are you alright?" asked Lurk.
"I felt a minor disturbance in the Source," said Bent. "As though millions of voices cried out in terror, then sighed in relief, then had to urgently visit the bathroom."
"Uh, right," said Lurk.
"I fear something terrible is about to happen," Bent added.
They sat in silence for a moment.
"We have a little time before we reach Alderbark," said Bent. "Don't we, Captain Single?"
"Couple of hours," drawled Mal. "Time for a little shut-eye, if that's what you're after."
"Actually," said Bent, "I was thinking we had time for a little training session."
Lurk stood up and activated his light rapier; the humming blade lit the room.
"Whoa!" said Mal. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Bent hefted a small spherical trainer 'bot. "Like I said, training."
"Like hell, you are!" said Mal. "If you must do that, how about taking it down to the cargo bay! You think I want scorch marks all over the walls of my lounge?"
"Um," said Bent.
"Sorry," said Lurk, as he deactivated the light rapier.
The two traipsed out of the lounge and down towards the cargo bay. After a moment, Mal stood and followed them.
Lurk picked a spot of empty deck, away from the crates piled up at one end of the cargo bay, and took a heroic stance as he reactivated the light rapier. Bent tossed the trainer 'bot into the air. It powered up with a barely audible hum and hovered there, spinning slowly. Light sparkled off the dozen or so lenses which studded its surface, each lens being the emitter of a low charge stun laser.
The 'bot dodged to one side, and Lurk turned to keep it in sight. It rose, dodged again, and fired a yellow pulse. Lurk swung the light rapier wildly, and yelped as the pulse hit his thigh.
Mal chuckled.
"Remember," said Bent, "a Jubbly can feel the Source flowing through him, and around him."
"You mean it controls your actions?" asked Lurk, shaking his leg to get the feeling back into it.
"It can control the actions of the weak-minded," said Bent, "but the strong-minded can control it."
Lurk took up a ready stance. The 'bot zipped back and forth a couple of times, and Lurk angled the rapier blade towards it each time. Suddenly it streaked closer to him, descending as it did so, and fired another pulse. This one hit Lurk's buttock, and his deactivated light rapier clattered to the deck as he fell sideways. Mal laughed.
"Hokey religions and ancient weapons are no match for a good blaster at your side, kid," he said. "Or for a good woman at your side," he added as an old memory surfaced. He sighed and blinked it away.
"You don't believe in the Source, do you, Captain Single?" asked Bent, stating the obvious.
"I've been back and forth across the galaxy a dozen times," shrugged Mal. "From the core systems to the rim. I've seen a lot of strange things, but I've never seen anything to suggest there's some mystical 'Source' controlling everything. The only thing in charge of my destiny—especially since I got this boat—is me."
Bent smiled at him.
"You ask me," continued Mal, "it's all a lot of simple trickery to fool the natives."
"We'll see," said Bent. He looked back at Lurk, who had finally gotten to his feet again.
"Why don't you try it again," said Bent. He stood up and retrieved a large welder's helmet from its peg on the wall. "Here," he said, as he placed the helmet over Lurk's head, "try it like this."
"But with the face shield down," said Lurk, "I can't see a thing." He activated his light rapier. "Well, okay, I can just about see my blade," he added, "but that's it."
"That's the point," said Bent. "Your eyes can deceive you. Do not trust them. Instead, reach out with your feelings. Read the Source, Lurk."
"Okay," said Lurk sceptically. Behind the face shield he closed his eyes, and attempted to stretch out his mind to make contact with the Source. He heard the trainer 'bot buzz several times as it zipped through the air. He felt the tension drain out of him. It seemed he almost could see the 'bot. Suddenly the stun-bolt zapped his leg again, and he yelped.
"It's no good," he said, "I can't do it."
"You were almost there," said Bent. "Keep trying."
Lurk readied himself again. He reached out, trying to sense the Source, and beyond that, the Array itself. Suddenly, like one of those optical illusions that you have to relax your eyes before you can see them, there it was. The trainer 'bot, the cargo bay, Bent and Mal, all delineated by shimmering green code. He watched the code of the trainer 'bot, saw it change a moment before it moved, saw it change again a moment before it fired. His light rapier was moving to block the bolt before the 'bot actually fired, and he deflected it easily.
"See," said Bent approvingly, "you can do it."
Mal snorted, "I call it luck."
Lurk ignored them both. He was still concentrating on the code of the trainer 'bot. Move, move, move. He found that he could keep track of it even as it zipped around behind him. He did not need to turn with it, because it was not going to fire yet. It moved again, and he looked deeper into its code. It was more complex than the spoon he had examined in Bent's kitchen, but the principle was the same. There was no spoon, and there was no 'bot. It fired again, but he blocked the shot automatically, without breaking concentration. Just a little deeper, and there.
He tweaked.
He pulled the helmet off in time to see a 'bot-sized rock clatter to the deck. Bent and Mal gasped in unison.
"What..." said Bent. He looked at Lurk in wonderment. "What did you do?" he said.
Lurk shrugged. "I tweaked the Source," he said.
"But that is..." said Bent.
"That's impossible," Mal interjected.
"Had I not seen it happen," said Bent, "I would have been inclined to agree with you. However, this can only mean one thing."
"It means I need a drink," said Mal. He'd heard and seen enough. He stood up and wandered back through to the galley, to a bottle of whiskey that was calling his name.
"What does it mean?" said Lurk. "I didn't think it was a big deal; no different from influencing the thoughts of those Shock Troopers."
"But what did you actually do, Lurk?" asked Bent.
"I tweaked the Source." he said again.
"Yes, but think about it in more detail," said Bent. "Tell me what you did in programming terms."
"Well..." Lurk thought about it for a moment. "I looked into the Source, and it seemed fairly obvious that it is Object Oriented code. I simply redefined the pointer of the 'bot so that it became an instance of something else. Something less complicated, because that seemed the easiest way to achieve it without worrying about its existing parameters."
"Don't you see?" said Bent. "You changed code. Or rather, you changed code-level data. Influencing the Troopers was simply a matter of changing data-level data. What you did is essentially the same trick, but at a much deeper level."
"So?" asked Lurk.
"So," said Bent, "it confirms what I already suspected. Hoped, even. You are 'The One', Lurk. The Chosen One."
"My Lords."
"Yes, Commander?" said Great Muff Tarragon. "I trust you have some good news for me?"
"Yes sir," said the Commander. "I am told that the targeting software is back online. We are good to go."
"Then what are you waiting for?" said Tarragon. "You have a planet to destroy."
"Yes sir."
"I hope, for your sake, Commander," added Vapour in deep, menacing tones, "that we do not miss again."
"Yes, my Lord," said the Commander. He swallowed nervously, then relayed the fire command to the Gun Command Crew.
"And Commander," said Tarragon.
"Sir?"
"Be sure to relay the video feed for this event to the Princess's cell."
"Yes, sir."
Around them, the Devastator station began to hum.
Princess Labia Orgasma sat up as she felt the ominous hum vibrating in her chest cavity. With a dread fascination, she looked up at the small monitor installed in one corner of her tiny cell. It showed her home planet, Alderbark, turning slowly against a backdrop of stars.
"No," she whispered.
The hum grew stronger, louder, more pervasive. The station began to vibrate noticeably. There was a flash of brilliant white from the monitor, followed by a moment of darkness, and when the picture returned, there was nothing left of Alderbark but an expanding ring of debris.
"No," she sobbed. "Oh no. Father..."