Quicksilver by wytchcroft

WYTCHCROFT'S BLOG

wytchcroft

Quicksilver
Monday, August 20, 2007

Quicksilver:

“Well aint that something”.
The voice crackles static and the screen flickers with tiny phosphene fires.
And the man who is listening sighs.
“Just-” he says.
“Just avoid this quadrant – the belt’s unstable – your scans won’t be able to predict the asteroids or the flares.”
“Oh i surely will. Just don’t be expecting a thankyou is all.”
“Acknowledged.” A second sigh. A rubbing of the eyes. A clicking of switches.
The familiar music of forward watch room five.
That and the momentary silence.

Broken – the already buckled door hurled open. The Ox stands there steaming and grinning. “Heads up Quicksilver, we’re wanted men.”
Quicksilver turns.
“Yes. Of course we are.”

.....

The Boys in blue and their Boss were deeply pissed off. They stood staring at the soiled crew of three before them as if the men were interlopers. A drunken mob disturbing a particularly placid game of golf.

The Boss shook out the arms of his jacket.
“This everyone? Ok then. It has come to our attention that we may have a problem here. This outpost – outpost...?”
“311818183.AO7.Gamma Nine. Sir.” A helpful aide.
“Thank you Lt. Yes – this tin hole here is supposed to listen – it is a LISTENING post. It is not supposed to TALK.”
The meeting room, already cramped, seemed to shrink wrap around the men inside it.
It was uncomfortably hot. The music here was hull and bulkhead, metal insulation, mis-firing food dispensors.
“Well?”
Captain Ullman managed a shrug – a gesture made easier by his over large work shirt.
“Did you want me to reply?” He looked sincerely surprised. The Boss however was clearly having trouble controlling himself.
“No.” He grated. “I wanted an apology – i wanted “I’m sorry Sir, we understand Sir – we know the importance of your operation and our own gnat like insignificance. We know you are the Boss. We know we are shit.”.”
The Captain raised a hand – the Ox was beginnig to breathe hard and there was little enough oxygen as it was. But the Boss hadn’t finished.
“Your LISTENING post has started warning people way from the area – let me rephrase that – you’ve been telling people you’re here! And when i say ‘people’ i don’t mean the good and obedient citizens we represent – oh no – i mean flotsam, jettsam, scum, fluff and refugees who are entirely supposed to end up with a face full of hot rock!”
He pressed a hard gloved finger into the recording device that Blue Boy no.2 was holding. A tone was emitted – then a voice, a worn voice, a woman’s, rising above the din of her craft and her children. “Bless you Beacon. We’re turning away, following your new co/ordinates, guess me an’ my kin aint found a way through this quad’ yet (hush now!) – but we’ll keep tryin’ – thanks to you. Thank -”
The hard gloved finger had stabbed again.
Captain Ullman’s eyes were small. “Am i supposed to let them die?”
“You are supposed to do your job. Listen to the scum – but talk to our boys. Our boys who have to make it through this hell space too. Our boys who do so because they also have a job to do.”
The Captain shook his head. “If it’s a reprimant Sir – you could have saved yourself the trip and told me over the radio.”
Here the Boss actually laughed. But it was not a good sound. Teeth snipping at his lips. “Radio?! Oh yes – because you keep such a tight station here that you can’t even get the visual channels working! Well...” The teeth burst out in a smile. “That’s OK Captain. I think it only right that i should say this to your face.”
The gun, the shot and the death seemed to rip out of nowhere in an instant of corbite and screams.
“You’re fired” said the Boss.
And now the Ox roared, flaring his nostrils, head low, fists raised.
The Boys in blue took him down efficiently with an electroprod and net.
“You see?” The Boss turned to Quicksliver, the only crew member left.
“I can smell insurrectionists.”
The boys dragged out the smoking body of the Ox. The corpse of the captain was next. Quicksilver said nothing. The Boys left.

.....

“They’re good boys. A good crew. Loyal.” The Boss seemed happier now.
He was staring out through the Obs port of the forward cabin and watching his ship roll easily between the sun hurled rocks and debris. The mass of the exploded planets that made up the quad’. There were numerous small explosions of unstable gas and matter. But his ship was steering true. Off to the edge of his vision he could see the in-coming Parliament vessel. “Ah...”he sighed. “ There she is.” A canine shadow of black against the violent red storm around them. Quicksilver was murmering co/ordinates into the scrambled transmitter. The Boss waved out to the vessels before him. “Now you see how smoothly things run when i am here to personally over-see them?”
“Yessir.” Said Qucksilver. “And i’m glad you’re here to watch .” He was on his feet now. “But i’m sorry...” his right hand jabbing out suddenly into the Boss’s lower back and twisting. Breaking. “No death is a good death, but life itself can sometimes be a waste.” The boss was pressed spastically forward against the glass, his dying eyes wide, wide, wider still as they saw the fast sleek arrowhead of the Parliament ship slide swiftly and safely between two large fists of rock and right into the bridge of his boys own craft. An instant explosion then nothing - just hot metal dust.
The Boss’s legs were beginning to go.
“Do you know what Quicksilver is?” Said the voice behind him. Soft in the distance. As sure and as hard as the bloody steel sword he was wiping. “It is a transforming agent. It takes waste and turns it into gold. Do you understand?”
The Boss’s response was unclear.

In any case the com was suddenly errupting with the frantic yells of yet another incoming craft. “Help! MAYDAY! Can anyone hear this? – god – help us – we thought we could find a way through but we can’t – MAYDAY! MAYDAY!”
Quicksilver strode to the desk and began to reassuringly give co/ordinates.
After a while a voice on the com said
“Thank you.”

end

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