SKYTREK - CHAPTER 4 (standard:humor, 4173 words) [4/15] show all parts
Author: Danny Miami	Added: May 09 2010	Views/Reads: 2052/1597	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Chapter 4 of the comedy novel.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

“We're the seaside squad,” Dennis told him proudly and Otto nodded his
large head several times in agreement. “We heard you wanted a seaside 
squad so we volunteered.” 

“It's not a seaside squad it's a suicide squad, you prick!” roared
Draygo. “You're beaming aboard the Orion to kill Captain Kork.” 

Dennis and Otto glanced at each other. 

“That sounds pretty dangerous, sir,” said Dennis. 

“It is,” agreed Draygo. “You'll probably get killed. That's why it's
called a suicide squad.” 

Dennis and Otto had a low muttering conversation. 

“If it's all the same to you, sir,” Dennis said eventually, “ we'd
rather go to the seaside.” 

“Yeah seaside!” grunted Otto, showing Draygo his bucket and spade. “Nice
sand, nice sea. Build sandcastle. Eat ice cream. Ha ha ha!” 

“Shut up you thick bastard!” roared Draygo. 

Otto's face fell and his chin trembled. “Sorry sir,” he mumbled and hid
his head behind Dennis' back. 

“You're not going to the seaside, you're going to kill Kork!” Draygo
barked at them. 

“Aw, do we have to?” asked Dennis. 

The General lost his patience with them. He drew his laser pistol and
waved it under their noses. 

Dennis sprang to attention and dragged Otto out from behind him. “It's
an honour, sir,” he said proudly. “We're on our way.” 

Draygo prodded each of them with the laser. “If you come back,” he said
coldly, “you're going down the rubbish chute. Understand?” 

Dennis and Otto nodded. 

Draygo stepped back from the Platform and waved to his First Officer.
“Beam them across,” he ordered. 

Instantly, Dennis and Otto were outlined in a flashing blue light then
they shimmered and vanished. 

PART THREE On the warship, Captain Kork and Mr Sprock were also having
problems. Since there was still no response from whoever had brought 
them inside the atmosphere of Dulcodaz, they had been trying to contact 
the Orion – only to find there was no response from them either. 

The Captain frowned and closed his Transceiver. “It's no good,” he said.
“It looks as though our communication lines have been--” 

“Captain!” interrupted Sprock. “The screen!” 

The Captain glanced up at the observation screen. Until a few moments
ago it had been showing the usual view of space as they orbited 
Dulcodaz but now there was a lot of interference across it. When it 
cleared the view of space was gone and a face was looking down at them. 
It was a thin face with oval yellow eyes and a smooth domed head. 

“Greetings, Captain James T. Kork,” rasped Kharg. 

“Do you know him, Jim?” Sprock asked. 

The Captain shook his head. “Who are you?” he asked. 

“I am Kharg,” came the rasping reply. 

“You seem to know me but I don't recognise you,” said the Captain. “When
did we meet?” 

“Our paths crossed some time ago,” rasped Kharg, “when you foolishly
interfered with my plans. This caused me considerable difficulty and I 
do not tolerate interference lightly. I have waited patiently for 
revenge. Now I shall have it, after I have taken what I need from you 
and your Bulcan friend.” 

Puzzled, the Captain and Sprock glanced at each other. 

“I have re-opened your communication line with your bridge crew,” Kharg
went on. “Tell them to maintain their orbit and not to try anything 
foolish. If they do I shall obliterate the Orion.” 

The Captain flicked open his Transceiver and relayed the message. 

“Good,” rasped Kharg. “Now step on to the Transporter Platform. It is
time for us to renew our acquaintance.” 

PART FOUR 

As the Captain and Mr Sprock were beaming down to Dulcodaz, the lights
above the Transporter Platform on the Orion started flashing, 
indicating that someone was beaming aboard. Remembering Kharg's threat 
and thinking that it was some of his men the crew took no action, 
passively waiting to see what was going to happen. 

The shimmering outline of two figures began to take shape, each carrying
what looked like a laser rifle. As the shapes grew stronger they could 
make out two leather clad men who had high foreheads and shoulder 
length hair. 

Butch Bradley was the first to recognise them. “Klingers!” he announced.
“What the hell are they doing here?” 

“Maybe they're working with Kharg,” suggested Youhoor. 

The Klingers materialised completely and raised their rifles, covering
the crew. “Want to go seaside!” grunted Otto, rattling his bucket and 
spade. 

“Ssshhh! We'll go later,” hissed Dennis. “Where's Captain Kork?” he
asked, looking round the bridge. 

“The Captain's not here,” Butch told him. 

“Oh?” said Dennis, slightly taken aback. “Where is he? Is he in the
toilet?” 

“Maybe he do dirty things!” grunted Otto, a disgusting smile on his
face. “Dirty things! Dirty things! Ha ha ha!” 

Dennis cuffed him round the head. “I told you to stop thinking about
that,” he scolded. “You know what kind of state you get into. Now stop 
it.” 

Otto hung his head and turned away from him. 

“He used to be quite sensible you know,” Dennis said to the bridge crew.


“I find that difficult to believe,” muttered Butch, looking at the
sulking Otto. 

“Where is the Captain then?” Dennis asked. 

“On Dulcodaz,” replied Butch. 

“Will he be back soon?” 

“How the hell do I know, you thick prat,” Butch answered diplomatically.
“He's been taken prisoner.” 

Dennis looked disappointed. He turned to Otto and they had one of their
low, muttering conversations. 

“Since the Captain's not here,” Dennis eventually announced, “we've
decided to kill everybody, then ourselves. We're a suicide squad,” he 
told them proudly. 

“Couldn't you just kill yourselves then?” asked Butch. 

Dennis' thick eyebrows rose as he considered this new angle. He pursed
his lips and stroked one of the bumps on the side of his face. “Naaa,” 
he decided. “General Draygo would find out about it.” 

Butch sniggered. “So what? You'll be dead anyway so what could he do to
you?” 

“Ha! You don't know Draygo!” Dennis retorted. “He'd get us all right.
Real bastard is Draygo, isn't he Otto?” 

“Yeah bastard,” agreed Otto, nodding several times. “No let me go
seaside. Bastard.” 

“Oh shut up about the seaside,” Dennis snapped. He waved his laser about
in front of the crew. “Right everybody – hands up,” he ordered. 

The bridge crew raised their hands. So did Otto. 

Dennis did a double-take when he saw him. “Not you, stupid!” he said,
pulling his arms down. “We're going to shoot them!” 

“Shoot?” grunted Otto. 

“Yeah shoot,” agreed Dennis. “Like at the fairground when you shoot the
ducks. Bang! Bang!” 

Otto laughed. “Bang! Bang!” he said and loosed off a burst from his
laser. Everybody ducked. So did Dennis. 

He rose and cuffed Otto round the head again. “Idiot! You could have
hurt somebody there,” he said angrily. “Watch what you're doing with 
that bloody rifle.” He turned back to the crew. “Everybody all right?” 
he inquired. “Nobody hurt?” 

Butch Bradley shook his head in amazement. “Only a Klinger would be
thick enough to ask if you were okay before he lasered you,” he 
muttered. 

“Right hands up again everybody,” Dennis ordered. 

The bridge crew raised their hands a second time and the Klinger suicide
squad readied itself. Just as the massacre was about to take place the 
bridge door swished open and Hilda, the cleaning lady, came in carrying 
her mop and bucket. 

“Hoi!” she yelled at the Klingers. “I've just bloody well mopped that
floor!” 

Ugly though they were, even Dennis and Otto recoiled at the sight of the
elderly Hilda, her usual half-smoked cigarette dangling from her lips. 

She waddled over and inspected the Transporter Platform floor. “Look at
the bloody mess!” she yelled. “Dirty big footmarks all over the place!” 


Dennis and Otto glanced down at the floor where there were lots of oily
smudges which could only have come from their boots. 

“Sorry,” muttered Dennis. 

“Sorry my arse!” snapped Hilda, stepping on to the Platform. “Look at
the state of that bloody floor. I'll have to do it again.” She started 
prodding aggressively at them with her mop handle. “Come on, get those 
boots off before you mess up anything else.” 

“But we're a suicide squad,” Dennis protested. 

“Suicide's what you'll be commitin if you don't get them bleedin boots
off!” retorted Hilda. “Move!” 

Under severe pressure from the mop handle which was threatening to
invade their nether regions, Dennis and Otto sat on the edge of the 
Platform and began to take their boots off. 

Butch Bradley meantime had been following events closely and with the
Klingers pre-occupied he seized his opportunity and began sneaking 
closer to the Platform behind the cover of some consoles. 

With Dennis and Otto struggling to take off their heavy leather boots
under the watchful eye of Hilda he sprinted forward the last few yards 
and snatched away the laser rifles. 

He tossed one to Mr Zulu and they levelled them at the Klingers. 

“So much for the crack suicide squad,” Butch said mockingly. “Hands up
you thick bastards.” 

Dennis' eyes widened when he realised what had happened. “Bloody hell,”
he said, standing up and raising his hands. “We're in trouble now, 
Otto. General Draygo will kill us when he hears about this!” 

PART FIVE 

Soon after Dennis and Otto had arrived on the Orion's bridge, the
Captain and Mr Sprock materialised in Kharg's room in the palace on 
Dulcodaz. 

“Welcome!” rasped Kharg and bowed mockingly. 

Sitting on a desk next to some monitors, Giraffe grinned at them and
doffed his top hat. 

“I promised myself that one day I would meet you and have my revenge,
Captain James T. Kork!” Kharg rasped triumphantly. “Now that day has 
arrived.” 

“Is that why you brought us here – just for revenge?” asked the Captain.


“Not just for revenge,” replied Kharg. “You both have something I need.”


The Captain frowned. “What could I possibly have that you would need?” 

“Knowledge!” hissed Kharg, his yellow eyes glittering. “Knowledge that
will one day allow me to destroy Earth and rule the Universe. That you 
will give me this knowledge makes the revenge even sweeter.” 

The Captain shook his head. “When we were brought here against our
wishes I had hoped that it might lead to something interesting,” he 
said, “but it's pretty obvious that you're just another madman who 
wants to rule the world.” 

“Uh oh, you shouldn't have said that,” warned Giraffe. 

Kharg's oval eyes narrowed. “You dare mock me, Captain? In your
position?” 

“Oh good!” said Giraffe, grinning. “Some violence!” 

Kharg slowly raised his right hand and extended his index finger. A thin
blue beam shot out and zapped into the Captain's thigh. He screamed and 
fell. 

“Nice one, Kharg!” said Giraffe. 

“Are you all right, Jim?” Sprock asked, helping him up. 

The Captain winced a little as he put his weight on his leg. “Fine, Mr
Sprock,” he replied, gingerly massaging the injured area. “So what do 
you want from us?” he asked Kharg 

“From you – the Pendant. From him – some Bulcan blood.” 

“You require some blood from me?” Sprock asked, raising an inquisitory
eyebrow and thoughtfully stroking his jaw. “Am I to understand that the 
old Bulcan legend might be true after all then?” 

Kharg nodded. 

“Then you must possess the Krystals.” 

Kharg smiled, showing his thin pointed teeth. “Giraffe,” he rasped. “The
casket!” 

As Giraffe was jumping down from the desk, Kharg flicked his bony
fingers at the cube pyramid and the misty blue light floating at the 
top of it vanished. 

Giraffe ambled over, climbed up the glowing bricks and carefully removed
the intricately patterned casket. He brought it over and held it open 
for the others to see. “The Krystals of Kharg,” he said, indicating the 
contents. 

Puzzled, the Captain glanced at his First Officer, looking for an
explanation. “It's an old Bulcan legend, Jim,” Sprock told him, seeing 
the look on his face. 

“Tell him it,” ordered Kharg, taking the casket from Giraffe and closing
it. 

“After the Universe was created,” Sprock began, “there was a struggle
between Good and Evil for supremacy. Good eventually won but in a final 
malevolent act Evil managed to leave certain mysterious substances at 
hidden points in different Galaxies. The substances possessed 
tremendous powers of destruction and if they fell into the wrong hands 
they could be used to wipe out large sections of the Universe.” 

“So where are these...mysterious substances supposed to be?” 

“They are very difficult to locate, so the legend runs. Each substance
has a separate set of clues which lead to it. In this case the 
possession of the Krystals is necessary before the other clues can be 
revealed.” 

“So why is some of your blood required?” 

“If some Bulcan blood is mixed with the Krystals they evaporate and
leave a set of space co-ordinates. These lead to an exact location on a 
planet where the second clue is revealed. The second clue is somehow 
supposed to show the way through a Black Hole. It's on the other side 
of the Black Hole that one of the mysterious substances is thought to 
be located.” 

The Captain smiled. “Quite a tale, Mr Sprock,” he said. 

“I heard it as a child,” Sprock replied. “No-one ever believed it.” 

“Until now!” rasped Kharg. “I already have the Krystals. Soon I will
have the blood. And you will give me the Pendant,” he told the Captain. 


Captain Kork frowned. “You seem obsessed with this Pendant,” he said.
“What part does it play in the legend?” 

“You will never know,” rasped Kharg, “but you can comfort yourself with
this thought – in giving it to me you will help me unlock a substance 
so powerful that it will be enough to destroy Earth.” 

“Why do you want to destroy Earth?” 

“Revenge!” hissed Kharg. “For the Federation's interference in my plans!
Now stand over against the wall and raise your arms and you,” he rasped 
at Sprock, “sit in that chair.” He pointed at a high-backed wooden 
chair. 

Having already witnessed Kharg's powers, both complied. 

The Captain strolled over and stood with his back against the stone
wall, his arms held out against it. Kharg flicked his fingers at him 
and two thick metal rings shot out of the wall and clamped round his 
wrists, holding him prisoner. 

Mr Sprock meantime had sat in the high-backed wooden chair, his hands
along the chair arms. Kharg flicked his fingers at him and two similar 
metal rings shot out the arms, clamping his wrists and immobilising him 
as well. 

Giraffe ambled over to Sprock carrying some equipment on a tray.
“Special effects are pretty good aren't they?” he said 
conversationally. 

He pulled one of Spock's sleeves up and tied some rubber tubing round
his arm till the veins stood out then picked up a large silver needle 
from the tray. “You're now going to feel a little prick!” he said to 
Sprock and laughed. 

Mr Sprock arched an eyebrow at him but said nothing. 

“Get on with it!” Kharg rasped. 

Giraffe bent over Sprock's arm and after deciding which vein he would
use, plunged the needle into it. There was a small tap on the needle 
and he had turned it off so the blood wouldn't flow out. He taped the 
needle in place then connected some clear tubing to the end of it and 
led it over to a table. Kharg drifted over to the table with the casket 
and opened it. He carefully emptied the Krystals into a long shallow 
metal tray and spread them out then took the tubing from Giraffe. 

“Open the tap,” he ordered. 

Giraffe ambled over and turned the small tap on the needle. Immediately
Sprock's black blood began to flow along the clear tubing and Kharg 
held the end and dripped it over the Krystals. 

“Enough,” he rasped when they were covered. 

In the metal tray the blood began to hiss and bubble and hazy red smoke
rose from it. When the smoke cleared and the bubbling stopped the blood 
began to dissolve. After it had disappeared completely the Krystals 
began to evaporate. As they did, a set of space co-ordinates was 
revealed at the bottom of the metal tray in large numbers. 

Kharg looked in and memorised the co-ordinates, a triumphant smile on
his face. Unknown to him the eyes watching from a peephole in the 
ceiling did the same before the co-ordinates vanished. 

Giraffe disconnected the needle and tubing from Sprock as Kharg drifted
over, his eyes glittering with malevolent pleasure. 

“I have the space co-ordinates,” he rasped, rubbing his bony hands
together. “Now I shall have the Pendant.” 

He turned to the Captain and snapped his fingers. The metal rings
pinning his arms to the wall vanished and he massaged his wrists for a 
few moments before strolling over to check on his First Officer. 

“Damage report?” he asked, smiling. 

“Exceptionally minor,” Sprock replied. “I'm all right, Jim.” 

“Into the circle!” Kharg hissed at the Captain, indicating a yellow
circle on the stone floor. 

Reluctantly the Captain walked over and stepped into it. 

“Now where is the Pendant?” asked Kharg. 

“What Pendant?” 

“The one the old man gave you.” 

The Captain frowned. “You mean on Vargas?” 

Kharg nodded. 

“I don't have it anymore,” the Captain told him truthfully. “The last
time I saw it was on Earth before the start of this mission. Either I 
lost it or it was stolen.” 

“We shall see,” rasped Kharg. He raised both hands above his head,
closed his eyes and concentrated. 

Giraffe climbed onto Mr Sprock's knees and sat there so he could see
better. “This bit should be good,” he said and held out a bag. 
“Popcorn?” 

“Thank you,” Mr Sprock replied and tried to lift his hand then
remembered it was clamped to his chair. 

Giraffe grinned and popped some into his mouth for him. “Can you see all
right?” he asked, munching happily. 

“Quite well,” said Sprock through his popcorn. 

From out of the ceiling directly above the Captain a cloud of small
shimmering gold stars appeared. They formed into a wide rippling circle 
which gradually began to descend. Seeing it the Captain tried to move 
out of the way but discovered he couldn't lift his feet. 

The circle of stars surrounded him and slowly passed over his body and
disappeared into the stone floor leaving him outlined in bright glowing 
gold. Kharg opened his eyes and the Captain's snapped shut. 

“You are on Vargas,” Kharg told him. “Where did you get the Pendant?” 

A large wall screen flickered to life as it began picking up images from
the Captain's mind. He was on Vargas, one of the many small planets 
which had Federation protection. The Orion had gone there in response 
to a distress message from the planet which was under attack from 
several pirate ships. 

After they had been driven off, Captain Kork was sitting by a crackling
fire with an old man, one of the planet's Elders. The old man took off 
the Pendant he was wearing and put it round the Captain's neck. 

“A gift?” he asked, smiling. 

“More than that,” the old man said. “Keep it safe.” 

“Safe from what?” 

The old man stared into the fire. “There's Evil in the Universe,” he
said tiredly. “It's close. So close.” 

The Captain frowned and looked at him across the crackling logs. “The
attack was only a diversion,” the old man said softly, pulling his 
cloak tighter around him and glancing up at the night sky. 

“A diversion?” the Captain asked. “For what?” 

The old man said no more. He lapsed into silence and stared blindly at
the flames. 

“A diversion for me!” hissed Kharg. “I needed the Pendant and I would
have had it if you Federation fools hadn't interfered!” 

The scene on the wall screen started to fade. 

“When did you last see the Pendant?” Kharg asked the Captain. 

The screen flickered to life again as his subconscious mind responded to
the question. This time it was Earth, a few nights before the Orion's 
present mission. Wearing a bathrobe, the Captain had just come out of 
the shower. Ricky was in his room. The Captain wandered round, pulling 
open drawers and looking in cupboards. 

“What's up?” drawled Ricky. 

“I can't find my Pendant,” the Captain told him. 

The two of them searched the room but couldn't find it. 

“Ah leave it,” drawled Ricky. “You've probably hidden it somewhere.
We'll have a good look for it when we get back. Come on, we're gonna be 
late for dinner.” 

“Okay,” agreed the Captain and went into his bedroom to dress. 

As soon as the door closed Ricky slid a hand into his inside jacket
pocket and drew out the Pendant. “Should be able to get something 
interesting for this!” he muttered, swinging it round on its chain. 

The scene on the wall screen began to fade again and Kharg cursed. He
closed his eyes, stretched out his fingers towards the floor and began 
to raise his hands. The shimmering circle of small gold stars 
reappeared and rose over the Captain then floated up and vanished into 
the ceiling. Kharg snapped his fingers and he opened his eyes. 

“How are you, Jim?” Sprock asked. 

The Captain shook his head and rubbed his temples. “A slight headache,”
he replied. “What happened?” 

“You were hypnotised,” Sprock told him. 

The Captain nodded in understanding and stepped out the yellow circle on
the floor. 

“Your brother has the Pendant,” Kharg told him. 

“How did he get it?” 

“You can ask him when you return to your ship,” Kharg told him. 

“You mean you're letting us go?” 

“Only you,” hissed Kharg. “Find the Pendant and bring it to me or your
Bulcan friend dies. Go!” 

The Captain took out his Transceiver and flicked it open. “Captain to
bridge,” he said. 

“Yes sir?” Lieutenant Youhoor replied immediately. 

“Beam me aboard,” he ordered. “And have Ricky standing by on the bridge.
I need to see him urgently.” He closed his Transceiver and turned to 
Sprock. “I'll be back soon,” he said. “You can depend on that.” 

Mr Sprock nodded and the Captain shimmered and vanished. 


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