Space Warrior Hitachi
Space Warrior Hitachi
By David Sutherland aka Marsten
Y'know, whoever first said that thing about the 'cold vacuum of space' was really on to something. I mean, damn! Even just sitting here in the cockpit of my ship, I'm wearing three layers of thermal clothing and it's still cold. Thankfully, there are some good things in this big ol' universe of ours, and coffee is one of them. I take a sip of the warm, steaming liquid and feel instantly better.
Yup, it's sure cold out here. If I had a better ship, or some serious cash inflow, I might even be able to fit it with some kind of heating. Oh well, at least the view's nice out there. This isn't a big ship, more of a shuttle really, and can easily just sit here floating in a sea of stars without anyone noticing. Just me and my coffee, nice, peaceful and quiet, undisturbed by anyone. Except maybe those guys.
The ship was about twice the size of mine, and floated in front of my window, growing bigger and bigger. Oh well, they say that size doesn't matter. What does matter is that its bloody big gun turrets were pointing right at me.
On the panel in front of me, a little blue light blinked on. It was an incoming transmission message; I knew that because I'd taped a label next to it. I pressed it.
"Hitachi!" came the voice, crackly and slightly squeaky. If ever I'd heard a rat-like voice, that was it.
Oh yeah, that's my name by the way. Hitachi. The brave, noble space warrior. I flick open the channel, "Who's this?"
"Space Pirate Hitachi" announced the voice, "Wanted for crimes against the people of the universe." Okay, maybe the warrior thing wasn't exactly accurate, but I'd definitely not call myself a pirate. And crimes? Gimme a break.
I press the channel button again, "Sorry bud, you've got the wrong guy."
"Your ship ID matches the police records," the rat-voice said, "And your voice pattern checks out too." Damn. It was worth a shot. Y'know, ever since they let every no-good mercenary with half a brain have total access to police records on piracy, innocent guys like me can never have a break.
"Look," I told him, "The fuel was just sitting there on that asteroid. Nobody was using it."
"That asteroid was a depot station", growled my ratty friend there, "That's where fuel's always stored!" Okay, so maybe I was exaggerating my innocence just a little. Hey, if I didn't take it, some other guy out there would have. I was providing a service. I mean, if someone hadn't moved all that fuel, the asteroid could have... erm... lost its orbit and crashed. Yeah, that's it. Oh shut up.
Okay, let's get thinking here. These guys are armed to the teeth. Actually, they're very lightly armed, but compared to my sorry excuse-for-a-battleship here, they might as well be an entire armada. I'm no chance against them in a firefight. So, let's put that magnificent brain of mine to use. Now I don't want to brag or anything, but I've been able to think my way out of more scrapes than you can shake a laser sword at. In fact, that reminds me of a time, back on Europa...
"You have twelve seconds to surrender" said the rat-jerk. Oh well, I'll save the story for another time. Right now, time to use my best trick.
"I sorry", I call into the voice speaker in my best lunar accent, "I no speak English very good. We small cargo shuttle, yes. You want fries with that, sir?"
Hey, it's better than nothing. What, you think you could have thought of anything better? That line's got me out of more scrapes than... Okay, it's never worked. Satisfied?
"Eight seconds"
Damn it, this wasn't looking good. I checked the panel to my right, the one labeled 'scanner'. "Please," I whispered to myself, "Please please please please..."
Excellent! There was a jump gate about five minutes from me. Thank goodness for small mercies like that. Maybe, just maybe, I'd be able to get there. With all three minutes of fuel I have left. With this huge bugger chasing me, with cannons that could turn this entire ship into scrap metal in about twenty seconds. Yeah, right. Bloody jump gates.
Okay, a little bit about these things. About a hundred years ago, one of those big corporations made up these gates, allowing you to hop around space. For a while, they were the big thing. Very chic. You rush on into the gate, surf around, and when you've arrived you drop back out into normal space. See? Now, one of the little problems is that just about every ship in the universe has a gate accelerator thingy, which is a little electronic doo-dad that sticks onto the bottom of your ship, and opens a gate without needing a jump gate. Since they were invented, the whole jump gate thing has pretty much become redundant. In fact, because of the tendency for smugglers, crooks, pirates and other nefarious types to hide out in the old abandoned gate tunnels, you're much safer to use your own.
No, I'm not one of those nefarious types!
But yeah, most ships have one of those electronic doo-dads. Oh yeah, except mine. Classy, huh? "Two seconds!" reminds the rat-man over the speaker, in case I'd forgotten. Didn't look like there was any other choice. I hit the button for the jets.
The jets kicked in and gave a roaring whine. Did I mention this little ship is old, crusty and falling apart? All the fuel I'd... borrowed... would have been able to keep this thing going for decades. But the fuel was sitting in the storage bays of the Firewall, my main ship. It's about seven times the size of this little shuttle, and is what I call home. And, through a series of events that I really don't want to get into at the moment, is sitting about thirty hours flight from here. Getting there could be a problem, especially because this hunk of junk can't actually navigate inside the jump gate tunnels.
Screech, roared the ship's hull. Reassuring sound, innit? It does that when I turn too fast. I yank on the controls, and its nose jams to the right. At full speed, which I was hitting at that moment, things start to shake.
And at that moment, the rat-jerk behind me lets loose with his cannons. They slam into my ship's hull like a suicidal trout. And yes, that is a metaphor. I say it is, so there. The ship was sent buckling, swaying to and fro. My cup of coffee, top still attached, rolls off the panel and skitters across the floor. Crap!
At that moment, I was half expecting the back of the ship to catch fire. And sure enough, it did. Another volley of laser cannon pummeled into my ship, and I jam the button to direct all power to the jets. Things started to shake, and a few sparks shot up from the panel, as they tend to do at times like this for some reason. The jump gate loomed ahead of me. Almost there.
A final volley of laser cannon discharge pounded into my hull as the jump gate swam open, great heaving stars of light shimmering into a luminescent, artificial wormhole. Damn things sure are pretty, let me tell you. For a moment I caught a deep breath of that cold air, thinking it might be my last. Running away from a squeaky voiced rat bounty hunter, with my tail between my legs. Not a fitting end for the noble, brave space warrior Hitachi. I braced for laser impact, gritting my teeth. And then, the gate slammed shut behind me.
Around the ship, the blazing lights of cosmic influx swam like fire in a disco. I breathed a sigh of relief, and slammed off the power before the engines exploded. Parts of the inner hull were on fire, I could smell the smoke. I'd need to take care of that, I decided. But first of all, there was something much more important to take care of. I got down on my hands and knees, and scrambled around desperately. It had to be here somewhere.
My fingers found it. And yes, it was intact. It had rolled under the control station in the firefight, but everything was fine now. My cup of coffee was okay, and the top was still fastened securely. Not a drop was spilled. Maybe I'm blessed.
So, after getting the fires extinguished and actually rewiring the heating, I put my footpaws up and decided that now was as best a time as any to relax. I drank some coffee - still warm - and decided to wait until we dropped out of wherever it was these jump gates sent us.
And this was the part I was dreading the most. But there was no way to avoid it. Unless I got it over with, I'd never make it home. So I took a deep breath, and said "Computer?"
On a monitor above and to the right of the window, a digitized raccoon face appears, scowling. "Wit dae ya want noo, ya mingin' wee dobbah?" it asked.
When I bought this ship, it came with a computer, as all ships do. It s job is basically to navigate, plot courses, manage the fuel supply, and make sure the air doesn't disappear. About twenty years ago, some bozo thought it would be a good idea to create a computer with something resembling a personality. Of course, computers couldn't actually have a personality, because that would be stupid. Instead, they gave them 'Character'. Which basically involved, well, this. Funny thing is, twenty years later, the more money you're willing to pay for your computer, the better 'character' it has. And I wasn't willing to pay very much. "Set a course for the Firewall" I told it.
"Whut's the mattah, can ye no dae it yersael?" it whined.
"No Stevie, I can't." I answered. Which was honest, because I never learned how. I was too busy learning things like surviving a gun fight, y'know, useful stuff. Oh yes, and the computer's called Stevie. It was either that, or 'Effin Useless'.
Tuning out the whining from that useless pile of circuit boards and microchips, I pull out my trusty pocket mirror and check my reflection. Hey, it's a feline thing. Oh, didn't I mention? I'm from Kyranis. We're all half-feline. Something to do with genetic experiments by some scientist guy a few centuries ago. But damn, do I look good or what? Eyes the colour of vibrant green emeralds, perfect teeth, and strong masculine jaw line. Damn, I'm perfect.
"An git yersael inta a shower, yer pure reekin' ya stinky beggah!" yelped Stevie.
Alright, so I'm looking a little rough. Hey, supplies have been running low; I need all the water for drinking.
I relax back in the chair, put my footpaws up, and knock what remains of my coffee over the panel. The computer stutters something half-intelligible, and goes silent. Not before time, mind you.
* * *
Five hours later, the computer's managed to repair itself and we're ready to drop back into normal space. Shame really, I was enjoying my nap.
I get back into the pilot seat and hit on the retro jets. Slowly the firestorm of stars outside starts to slow, pulsing gradually with myriad colours as the ship slows. With a vibrant shudder and a rumbling that echoes right up through my seat, they grind to a halt, and we're back in real space again. What, you were expecting something more elegant? Puh-lease! This ain't the movies.
In the distance, among the vast speckled night sky, I could see a large red-swirled orb of Jupiter, hanging suspended in oblivion. If I had turned my head to look around further, I'd have seen some of its huge array of moons. Down on its surface, unnoticeable, sit the terran colonies. Funny place, Jupiter. It's getting harder to get a good deal for your money there.
To the right, neat Calisto, is the Firewall. The brilliant, majestic floating castle of the vicious space warrior, Hitachi. Okay, so it's seen better days. I've had to stop it being hauled away as garbage a few times. But it's still good, honest! And it's home, innit?
Except that between it and me, sits the rat-jerk's ship.
Crap! I'd thought I'd lost him. Guess not. It's really not turning out to be a very good day, is it? Incomming message. Great, he wants to talk.
I hit the button, and his face pops up on the monitor. Boy, was my guess right or what? He had a long nose, small beady eyes, and whiskers. Even looked like a rat. He grinned, "We've got you now, foul pirate scum."
Y'know, there's no need to be insulting.
I tried to think of something to say. For some reason, I don't think my ploy from before will work now. And if worse comes to worse, I could always throw cups of coffee at him. "Alright, what do you want?" I ask finally.
The rat-man grins. "Your bounty, of course." Why does that not surprise me? What is it, open hunting season on me?
"Didn't you hear? The bounty was called off", I try, "Turns out it was all a big mistake."
"I don't believe you."
"You're a real trusting guy. Not. I bet your friends are thrilled."
"Don't have any of them", retorted rat boy, "They just get in the way." Oh great, I was dealing with a psychotic hermit with laser cannons.
I thought about outrunning him. Oh yeah, not enough fuel for that. Maybe I could outfight him... No, maybe not. Time to outsmart him.
"Look behind you!" I shout.
It doesn't work. Hey, what are you looking at me like that for? Didn't your mother ever tell you to try your best at everything you do? Well, that was mine. Okay, I'm out of ideas.
"Turn over access to your computer, and I'll take you in alive" grinned rodent boy. Well at least he's not a complete jerk. See, the thing is, computers can catch a decent price, and are always useful. Always need fixing, y'see. So apparently, he was willing to be reasonable. Actually it was the only choice I had. A new computer system would cost me more than I had. And, oh yeah, it was integrated into the ship, so I'd lose that too. Not really a great deal, I suppose.
"Fine, fine" I concede, "The code's seven six nine, eight four two."
My little rat friend typed the code into his computer. I wasn't looking forward to what would happen next. Basically, it involved his computer connecting with mine, and taking control of it. From that point, anything could happen. Self-destruct, oxygen going missing, you get the idea. He finished entering the code.
I held my breath.
Shut my eyes.
And time seemed to stretch on forever.
Until...
"What the hell?" stuttered the voice over my monitor. It was rat-boy. "What did you do to my computer?"
I opened my eyes.
Sure enough, his ship was still hanging in the window, between me and the Firewall. But now, the lights in its ports were off. Was nobody home? I looked into the monitor which still showed our little rodent buddy.
He was still there, but the lights were out. Lights on his control panel. He looked right at me, and growled. "My computer's dead! What did you do?"
I looked up to the pixilated face of Stevie. "What happened?" I asked.
"Tha wee mentul thang wen' an' killed itsael!" answered the computer. And then it all made perfect sense. Of course! Rat-face's computer system must have overloaded, and shut itself down. I mean, there's plenty of times I've wanted to do that while talking to Stevie.
Part of me couldn't quite believe it. My enemy's computer had killed itself rather than talk to mine. He's actually that obnoxious! Rat-jerk's pointed-nosed face was still on my monitor, and he gave a defeated sigh. "Don't suppose you can give me a lift, could you?" he asked.
I grinned, sipped my coffee, and hit the button for my course back home.