Chapter Nine Baggage Trouble On the Departing Flight. One Week, Five Days Ago The entire complement of Deevra's crew had lined up on the Third Level Cargo Deck of the new Galaxy Police Star-ship, the "Joker's Wilde". This, its maiden voyage, would be the first ship of its kind to be used under any circumstances. It was the finest ship the Galaxy Police ever had made, with technological marvels they never knew possible. And it was going to be put to the test by making what would normally be an eleven-week voyage towards Earth in a period of a week and three days. All in order to capture the criminal Ryoko. Pheros, the Galaxy Police Accountant, and Ge'Kahl, the Jurai Ambassador, stood proudly behind the Commander. "Has the entire crew been transported to the ship yet? This doesn't look like a full crew compliment for a ship of this size. Very inefficient if you ask me," Pheros noted, tapping at a simplistic computer pad. "Yes, everything is in perfect preparation," Ge'Kahl responded coldly. Deevra shot his arm straight out to the side, knocking the two Observers backward. "I will worry about the preparations, Gentlemen. You two will stay confined to your quarters until well after the ship has launched from port and into Hyperspace," Deevra announced to his two shocked associates. "You can't mean to tell us that we are confined to quarters..." Pheros started, screaming, although the pitch never got high enough to make a true effect. "That is exactly what I mean. And don't tell me what I can't do. You two are merely Observers on this assignment," Deevra stated coldly. You, arrogant, presumptuous little pain in the..." Pheros started, his face turning bright red with anger. Ge'Kahl grabbed the accountant by the shoulders and brought him down to the chair, forcibly. Pheros groaned and turned his head to look at Ge'Kahl. "Do not get angry at the Commander, Pheros my friend. Deevra knows perfectly well what he is doing and why he does it. I respect that man, he is very intelligent and skillful," Ge'Kahl noted, attempting to calm the accountant. "You learn quickly, Admiral," Deevra coldly noted to Ge'Kahl. "I am merely an Ambassador on this mission, nothing more," Ge'Kahl responded plainly, bowing before Deevra, releasing Pheros. "Yet nothing less. An ambassadorial position is one of great power." "No more then that of being the Commander of a star-ship. Especially one like this, this... What is it called?" "The 'Joker's Wilde', and it is a lofty position, yes. But no more than many others I know, yourself included." "Are you two finished boosting each other's egos yet?" Pheros asked, glaring at the two with annoyance in his voice. "Yes. Very much so," Deevra replied calmly. "Let's see the troops. All officers line up in three equal lines! Prepare for inspection!" he shouted, then turned to Pheros and calmly said, "Ready to inspect, Mr. Accountant?" "Yes. And I am not an accountant!" Pheros shouted. Many of the officers in the audience couldn't help but laugh at this man having been reduced to childish measures. "What is your name, Lieutenant?" Deevra asked one of the officers as he passed through the rows of soldiers and crewman, examining them carefully. "Arik Vashier, Sir!" the Lieutenant responded, snapping his hand to his forehead in salute. "What is your assignment on this mission, Lieutenant Arik?" Deevra asked, his face stiff and drained of even more humor than normal. "Ground Assault Drop Trooper and 'Hostile Atmosphere' combat unit maintenance officer, Sir," the boy said, a worried expression on his face and sweat dripping from his brow. "Oh, That's too bad... Oh, never mind," Deevra said calmly. "What's too bad, sir?" Arik asked curiously. "Oh, its nothing... Well, actually it's... You see Arik, I have to apologize, to you. We just have too many maintenance officers and there just aren't enough 'Officer' Class Drop Suits to include you," Deevra said, his face almost a scowl. "But, sir..." the boy started, sweat dripping from his nervous forehead. "I enjoy this assignment. I'd do anything you need, sir. Drop me two ranks, take away my armor license, make me clean the methane bathrooms, just don't drop me from this assignment!" "I'm sorry, there just aren't enough armored units for everybody at this rank. Therefore..." Deevra mused aloud. At that point, Arik just collapsed, his mind shattered by the weight of what he thought was coming. Pheros gasped in shock and Ge'Kahl was turning red with anger when Deevra spoke again: "Tsk. And I was just going to promote him to Executive Officer." "Sir?" one of the officers next to Arik's unconscious form said in a contorted and electronic form of Standard, it's bulbous head bounding along its long, tentacular body, which was flexed to full length. A Qujinn symbol of confusion. "Is something wrong..." Deevra paused as he examined the officer's only noticeable clothing, the Galaxy Police triangular rank insignia denoting him as a Private in the Drop Trooper Army, then spoke again, "Private?" "Ju'Doske, sir," the creature responded, the voice coming from its triangular badge. "I was wondering why you did that. It was rude." "I was only having a little fun with the Lieutenant. I didn't mean to cause a nervous breakdown. Very well, Ju'Doske, please escort Arik to his quarters and break the news to him gently about the promotion," Deevra said, a shocked look on his face. The Qujinn did so, grasping Arik's legs carefully with two of its powerful pinchers while a Trillium Flight Officer grasped his shoulders in their massive hands and carried him out of the room. Many of the officers just stared at Deevra, unsure of what to do next. "That's it..." Deevra mumbled to himself. He turned and looked at the two observers, gave a slight smile then turned back to the massed crew. "Everyone, dismissed! I want all of you at your stations right now, Alpha Shift! We are heading out, people!" he shouted. The crew scrambled about, rushing to their respective stations. Deevra turned back to his associates, who stared at him with grim outlooks. "What?" He asked, unsure of what was going on in their minds. "That was the most disrespectful act of depravity I have ever seen. What kind of a Commander are you, playing pranks on innocents like that?" Ge'Kahl demanded, his face turning bright red with anger. "On top of that, you nearly caused that 'creature' to have a heart attack," Pheros added, his face equally reddened. "Yeah, but it was fun. Do you have any other problems with my way of doing things?" Deevra asked, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "As a matter of fact..." Ge'Kahl started, being interrupted by the Financial Advisor. "...I do," Pheros finished Ge'kahl's statement, "I want to know why you are letting a Gelsh take the number two position. Are you insane?!" "No, I don't think so. Do you have a problem with the Gelsh, Mr. Accountant?" Deevra asked, frowning slightly. "Yes, as a matter of fact I do. Gelsh are notorious for being thieves and saboteurs. The fact that you just entrusted one to the Command Staff proves just how careless of a Commander you are," Pheros stated, his voice brimming with anger and annoyance. "What do you mean? I've never heard of anything like that before, Pheros," Ge'Kahl asked, his face changing from annoyance to confusion. "I don't care what you have or haven't heard of, Ambassador," Pheros stated, spitting out the words at his associate. "I know what I'm saying when I tell you that creature is dangerous to our mission." "Dangerous? No more dangerous then a Krixxin, or a Vlee," Deevra mused, thinking over what Pheros just stated. Then a thought struck him, "I get it now! You're the PsLk on this assignment, aren't you?" "What?!" Pheros shouted, his face turning even more red. "No! Of course not! I'm a normal, unchanged Terran!" he continued to scream, sweat dripping across his forehead. "A Ps-what?" Ge'Kahl asked confusedly. "A PsLk. Psionic Link. The Assembly has no other name for them. PsLks are a race of creature about a couple inches across and made out of a gelatinous substance. They are a telepathic race that psychically and physically bond to other life forms as a form of parasite. Upon linkage, the original personality is placed in storage and a PsLk personality takes their place. The Galactic Assembly uses PsLks as political heads, trade negotiators, and spies. They're completely loyal to the Assembly and make all the political decisions for them," Deevra explained, staring at Pheros accusingly. "But what does that have to do with us? We're on a combat mission, there's nothing political about any of this. Why would they send a PsLk?" "I was betting that the Council wouldn't let us go without one. I'm considered too much of a loose cannon for them to be sent anywhere without a PsLk. They even kidnapped my last partner and planted one on him before they sent us out on our assignment. He died because the PsLk drained from him what made him so valuable in the first place, his ingenuity," Deevra calmly stated, his eyes just cool slits of black as he stared at Pheros. "But what does this have to do with..." "With that Gelsh, Arik? Gelsh are the only known humanoid creatures who can not only resist the link but detect their presence. They become, dizzy, can't think straight, and then pass out. It doesn't happen automatically but the longer a Gelsh is in the proximity of a PsLk, the more chances one has of detecting them. This scares the PsLk, because they can't stay covert near a Gelsh. Therefore, PsLk always have a distrust of the Gelsh and try to keep them as low on the chain of command as possible for so-called security reasons." "That's barbaric. How could the Assembly do something like that to their own people? I thought your leaders were a moral group," Ge'Kahl asked. "Simple, the Assembly heads are PsLks. Their cold logic is what controls the majority of the Assembly. But still, it's not as bad as say... committing genocide on the Illnians like the Jurai did." Deevra said, smirking as he spoke. "What are you talking about? The Jurai did the universe a favor when they annihilated the Illnians! They truly were a barbaric and bloodthirsty race! They deserved what they got!" Ge'Kahl shouted. "Oh, I see. They deserved to be driven to the brink of extinction by the Jurai, and then finished off by Ryoko. That makes so much more sense," Deevra quipped, his mouth stretched in a thin smirk. "Damn you, Deevra," Ge'Kahl said under his breath. "Well I guess I'll see you two later. A lot later," Deevra laughed as he walked off, leaving two very angry men in his wake. A few minutes later, the Commander arrived in the Medical Laboratory. He stood outside the doorway for a moment to calm himself, then quickly strode through the entryway. The interior of the MedLab was clean, white and sterile. It was filled with all sorts of diagnostic equipment and surgical instruments, forming a sort of maze out of the area. Deevra slowly wormed his way past the maze of equipment until he found a dark, secluded corner of the lab that contained the Chief Medical Officer. Upon first glance, Deevra couldn't tell very much about the doctor's looks. The man was slumped over a table upon which only a small lamp stood to illuminate him. The light only allowed the right half of his face to be seen, and that was mostly covered with a surgical mask. His right hand and arm looked smooth, unmarred and small. The left hand and arm, however, looked larger and bulky, even though it was barely a shadow under the light. Deevra supposed the doctor was using some sort of exo-skellatal appendage to work small, complex operations that a Terran hand couldn't do. "Well, it seems the Assembly cut back on lighting in here," Deevra said in an attempted joke. "Guess they always want to cut back on the budget, don't they?" The doctor barely reacted. Without turning his head, he replied, "I wouldn't know about such things. That's not my job here." The man's voice was somehow both smooth and rough. "Well, excuse me for having a sense of humor," Deevra quipped back. "Hmmm, sounds serious, I think we can have it removed though," the man once again calmly replied. "Well, it appears not everyone in my crew is soulless," the Commander noted. "Hello, I'm Commander..." "Deevra Murishawa, acting Captain of the Joker's Wilde, Hello. I'm Chief Medical Officer Mahtoma Tresh." the doctor said, "Sorry if I don't shake your hand but I'm doing some very important research right now." "Don't worry about it. No one here has respect for their superiors anyway. Especially me. I don't even respect myself," Deevra quipped. "What's superior about you? I've read your record. You have a bit of a problem taking orders, don't you?" "Only when the orders come from a pain-in-the-ass buearocrat who doesn't know a Plasma Rifle from his ass." "Oh... Definitely a problem with taking orders, then. Just a moment..." Mahtoma paused, adjusted a strange-looking instrument, and then continued, "There, finished." He stood up and walked wholly into the light. Deevra was shocked at the sight before him. Mahtoma Tresh was a horribly mutated man. While the right side of his body looked normal, the left side showed a grotesque vine-like formation that had re-placed his skin. His entire left arm was composed of this plant-like material, making it larger and more rough-hewn then the other. Tresh reached out with his right hand and Deevra reflexively grabbed it, shaking it vigorously. After a moment, Tresh pulled his hand back and placed it in his lab coat. "I see. You think I'm hideous too," he said flatly. "I didn't mean that! It's just... I've never seen someone like you before. That's all," Deevra said defensively. "Not surprising. The Prev are a relatively new race. This..." Tresh held up his left hand, "...is just our distinguishing characteristic; an infectious plant virus. It would've taken over our entire bodies had our scientists not found a way to hold off the infection. However, every new generation has this, and it keeps getting worse. It's intelligent, too. It tries to talk to me telepathically whenever I'm alone. It's like a curse." "I see. I'm very sorry for interrupting your work. I just wanted to meet the man that I'm putting my life in the care of," the Commander said, pausing, "By the way, what are you working on?" "A cure," Tresh replied. "A cure for what?" "A cure for my people; to cure them of this freakish disease," Tresh replied sorrowfully. "Do you realize how hard it is to talk to a person when they keep staring at your arm or your eye? How it feels to have half of your body rebel against you, to hurt you every time you move a finger? To try to stay sane when it speaks to you within your own mind?" "No, I don't. I'm sorry," Deevra said, he turned back toward the maze in shame. "I'll go now," and he walked away. "Thank you. I'll see you at the first meeting," Tresh said. After visiting the MedLab, Commander Deevra Murishawa decided to head straight for the Bridge. Once there, he sat down in his Command seat and surveyed the area. After a moment of reflection, he looked at the Pilot and Co-Pilot and spoke, "Well, Officer Nesh'Rk, can we expect smooth sailing on this mission?" The man who responded was a calm, determined Korvian. Deevra noticed the man's fur was a dark brown blend all across the visible portions of his well-built body. He responded with a rich, baritone voice trademark of the Korvians, "Of course, Sir. This is the finest ship off the lot. The newest model of star-ships from the Assembly. We have brand-new, specially modified Star Drives, brand-new weaponry, and a semi-organic, self-repairable hull! The best there is!" the man replied, his voice and face brimming with pride. "Ah, good. Now, who is the Co-pilot?" Ge'Kahl asked, pointing at the non-descript looking man sitting next to Nesh'Rk. "I am Vol, sir," the man replied, his voice a dull monotone. "Um, he's a Synth, Sir. I mean synthetic Terran. He's been designed to fully integrate with the on-board computer and use it with complete efficiency through telepathic relays," Nesh'Rk quickly said. "He's the best Co-Pilot a guy could ask for. He's really got a great personality too." "Great, a PsLk accountant, a half-plant doctor, and an organic robot for a pilot. What else could go wrong?" Deevra said aloud. "How about a chaotic wormhole that warps time and space appearing in this sector, Commander?" Vol suggested. "Make that a comedic organic robot for a pilot," Deevra said, smacking his hand to his forehead. "Thank you, sir. I do my best," Vol replied, smirking evilly at his partner. "This is gonna be a looong trip," Deevra complained. The Joker's Wilde was not a normal, rounded ship like the majority of the Assembly's fleet. Instead, the ship was large and blocky, with various antenna, dishes and cannons lining the hull in an intricate pattern. To the rear of the craft, seven large, cylindrical engines placed closely together provided the lesser thrust of the craft. To the front of the ship, two large pylons stuck out from the sides of the craft, aimed at the large void of space like two fingers pointed accusingly at the cosmos. "Everyone's on-board and we have the clearance to depart, Commander," the Communications Officer Quilnk said, its long tentacular eyes swerving backwards to see Deevra. "Good. Unlock the couplings and take us out, Officer Nesh'Rk," Deevra replied excitedly, his hands clenching the armrests of his seat. "Aye, aye, sir," Nesh'Rk replied, flicking switches and adjusting controls as he activated the ship's thrusters. Outside, the ominous twisted metal form of the Galaxy Police Space Station Nerik released the Joker's Wilde from its grasp. Large metal tubes and massive locking pylons retracted into its surface, freeing the captive vessel. The Joker's Wilde floated freely for a moment, then blasted forward as its engine cluster powered up, shooting red-blue flames. It shot far away from the space station, its fiery engines tirelessly streaming power, until it reached a point distant enough from the station. "We have reached maximum distance, sir," Nesh'Rk announced. "Very nice, Officers. Activate the Jump Gate engines. Let's see what this hunk of scrap metal can do," Deevra replied, his eyes wide with amazement. To the Commander, no matter how many times he had witnessed a Hyper-spatial jump, it never lost the intrigue. The idea of making 'jumps' through another space and time to get places was so amazing he still never quite believed it. The pylons pointing forward from the ship started sparking as energy coursed through them. The pylons continued to spark until they were completely energized. Then the beams converged, creating a line of sparks between them. The sparks clustered together, forming a ball of energy, which shot out in front of them at the void of space. The space before the ship warped, and twisted like a whirlpool, then it opened, revealing a gaping hole of energized space. The pylons powered down, the energy drained from them. The Joker's Wilde then sped forward into the sparking blue portal, vanishing amidst the chaotic field. A moment later, that section of space returned to normal, leaving nothing but the space station, the planet it orbited, and a vast field of stars.