Hal Spacejock 3: Just Desserts by Simon Haynes

Author:Simon Haynes [Haynes, Simon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: novel, Spacejock, sci-fi, Humour, science fiction comedy, Series, Science Fiction, comedy novel, scifi, humor, comedy
Publisher: Bowman Press
Published: 2011-03-03T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

Jasmin spent twenty fruitless minutes searching the Volante's hold for her crate before conceding defeat. Fearful of her controller's reaction, she hurried to the flight deck and confronted the Navcom. "You lied to me! You said my crate was aboard the ship!"

"Negative. You asked whether Mr Spacejock signed for a delivery."

"What was that, then?"

"One hundred coffee makers."

Jasmin groaned. "This is a disaster! That crate has to be in place in four hours time, and Cathua is an eight hour round trip. How am I supposed to organise that?"

"I'm an onboard computer, not a time machine."

Jasmin frowned. Could Barry get the crate into the trade fair after it closed? Possible, but a risk. Suddenly she had an even worse thought. What if the crate had been loaded into the wrong ship, and was no longer on Cathua at all? She grabbed a keyboard and fired off a terse message to the Cathua cargo depot, demanding they locate her crate. The answer came back almost immediately, and it was so unexpected she read it through twice.

"Cargo en route to Jordia aboard vessel Phantom-X1, pilot Hal Spacejock. ETA fourteen hundred hours local time."

Jasmin's spirits soared. Freighter pilots were a resourceful, competent lot, and Hal Spacejock was clearly best of breed. She should have known he'd track his own ship! "Navcom, I want to know the minute the Phantom-X1 hits Jordia."

"Ground control has them on-screen now."

"They're landing at the spaceport?"

"Not exactly," said the Navcom. "In fact, they're attacking the local military base."

* * *

"This is Jordian Military Command. Execute a ninety-degree turn to starboard and slow to one-eighty knots. You have five seconds to comply."

Hal leapt for the console and struggled with the controls. "Go left, dammit!"

"Starboard is right," said Clunk.

"Four."

Hal reversed the controls. "Come on, you flabby piece of junk. Move!"

"Three."

"It's wasted effort," said Clunk. "You can't alter course during final approach."

"Two."

"What about emergencies?"

Clunk shook his head.

"One. All attempts to contact inbound hostile have failed. Missiles launched."

"Missiles what?"

"Oh dear," said Clunk. "I didn't expect that."

"Don't just stand there, do something!"

"Very well. Hold tight." Clunk reached under the console and flipped a switch, killing the engine. There was a split second of weightlessness, and then the ship began to plummet towards the ground.

"How is this better than missiles?" demanded Hal, as the air whistled past the hull.

"We're above the ocean," said Clunk. "If I fire the engine at the right moment, we should have a soft landing."

"If? Should?" Hal looked around. "What's that noise?"

A screaming roar drowned Clunk's reply, and the Phantom shook as something tore by just outside, close enough to bring chunks of insulation down on their heads.

"Missiles," said Hal, staring at the crooked roof panels. "And they're coming back!"

The ship continued to drop, tipping from side to side as it fell through the air. The roar began to build again, and Hal was anticipating a final, all-consuming explosion when Clunk grabbed his arm.

"Brace yourself!"

At the very last second the robot rammed the throttle forwards, and the engine roared lustily to slow the ship.

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