EPISODE CCXXXVIII - BATTLING PCEDS: POST CHEETO EPIDERMAL DISCOLORATION SYNDROME




Reed's face went crimson, whether from anger or embarrassment Schultz wasn't sure.  In either case, it made the hand print on his cheek stand out all the more.  The Commander opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by Number Two.  "Sir, I've detected a ship in our vicinity!"

"Bring it up on screen", Reed instructed through tightly clenched teeth.

"Uh...", Lt. Scott hesitated, "I'm not able to do that, sir."

"Why the hell not, Lieutenant!?!"

Number Two shrugged, clearly frustrated by the conundrum.  "It's as though it's invisible", he muttered.  "I wouldn't have caught it at all except that I was conducting a systems check on the thermal sensors."

Reed composed himself.  "Well, what is it doing there?"

"Just sitting, sir", the lieutenant replied.

"Then it's probably just a ghost ship", the Commander pointed out smartly.

"Sir", Schultz remarked, "I doubt that a ship this deep into the unexplored..."

"I know what you're going to say", Reed interrupted, "and the term ghost ship was just a metaphor for a deserted space vessel, not a haunted space ship helmed by demonic hordes from beyond the grave."

"What I was trying to say", the Huckster pointed out, "was that..."

"Not that there aren't haunted ships, mind you", Reed continued undaunted.  "I've seen them.  The skeletal remains of warships slipping through the nothingness of space, high pitched screams of the mutilated dead melding with gales of spectral laughter in a symphony of chaotic insanity..."   Though not drooling, the Commander had dawned his standard distant expression.

"Uh, Commander", Lt. Scott broke in softly.

Reed shook his head, and when he again faced Number Two, the steel determination had reclaimed his optic organs.  "Yes, Lieutenant."

Number Two shifted uncomfortably beneath Reed's intense gaze.  "Well, I just wanted to point out that a dead ship wouldn't give off enough heat to register on the thermals."

Reed smirked knowingly.  "Duly noted, Lieutenant."  He turned back to his display screen, but felt the science officer watching him.   He looked to where the Huckster sat, the alien's long features lending an air of bemusement to his otherwise blank expression.

"I have seen them", he whispered forcefully, "the ghost ships, I mean.  I've seen them!"

Schultz nodded soberly.  "I'm sure you have, sir"

Pu' Chabba swallowed hard, and turned to where Mushi sat inanimately in the co-pilot's chair.  The hot rage that had burned inside him so recently was now cooled by the thought of attacking a Space Fleet warship.  It wasn't fear, he told himself, and it truly wasn't.  Pu' Chabba had faced death thousands of times, always tempting fate with a sneer.  But this wasn't fear...it was conscience.

He'd skirted the moral border more than he'd like to admit, but had always been able to convince himself that it was out of necessity.  This was different.  If he launched an attack on the one entity that symbolized the free galaxies' struggle against oppression, there would be no turning back.

Do not fail me, bounty hunter, Sky Marshall Wincus' words echoed through his head, as though the Wyzenhymer could sense his misgivings at even this great a distance.  His left hand drifted toward the fire controls as he pushed the throttle forward with his other.  The Lipschitz 9 shot toward it's target, gaining speed at an incredible rate.  Adrenaline surged through the bounty hunter's veins, the velocity and his dire mood spreading his lips into a cruel, rictus grin.  His eyes shifted once again to his deceased co-pilot, the jewel-like eyes though lifeless, so full of understanding.  And in those eyes, he found resolve.

"Sir!!", Lt. Scott shouted.  "The ship...it's moving toward us!!"

Reed was on his feet before the young officer had finished his statement.  "How fast, Lieutenant?"

"Too fast for me to get a fix on it, sir!"

"Battle stations, everyone", the Commander announced almost casually.  "We're not out of this yet!"