Terra Group: A Day In The Life

by Majick

Starring:

Thayer Atner, Dictator of Mendellia
Sharon Kerr, Ambassador of the New Republic
 
Major Scifantasy ~ Terra Lead
Lieutenant Mike Clark ~ Terra Four
Lieutenant Josh Cochran ~ Terra Eight
Captain Vickie Boyd ~ Terra Nine
Lieutenant Brad Corletti ~ Terra Ten
 
Lieutenant Noreh S’Ytsirk ~ Grace Three

“So, that’s the week ahead,” Sci concluded. “No visiting heads of state, no holidaying Group members, just standard, boring, routine assignments.”

Mike made a face, prompting a stifled giggle from Captain Vickie Boyd. Josh Cochran sat ramrod straight in his chair, his gaze fixed on his commanding officer. A look of rapt attention on his face betrayed his military background.

“How are the ships looking?” Sci asked Mike, the Group mechanic.

“Oh, fine,” he replied with a wave of his hand. “They’re all in working condition, although I’m still waiting for a few parts on the next trip to bring X-6 up to full battle readiness. Display readiness is no problem, if you need them.”

“And the pilots?” Sci continued, looking at Josh and Vickie. Vickie smiled, and spread her hands.

“Looking good,” she replied. “Noreh and the others have adapted well to X-wings after their TIE training.”

“They like the idea of the extra firepower,” Josh added, deadpan. The two Group members had been training Mendellia’s resident air force on the X-wings for a few months now.

“If we have to fight?” Sci asked, quietly.

“Then Noreh and Niugnep S’Ylime are both up to minimum spec already,” Josh replied. “Others from Grace Squadron are close, though most of the pilots still require more training.”

“But with myself, Noreh, Josh, Emily, Brad and Niugnep,” Vickie concluded, “you have a half squadron of pilots. Not to mention the TIE Fighters the MRAF can scramble, if need be.”

“I’ve been looking into having droids patrol the battlements,” Brad said. “It’s something that could work, and it’d be an extra line of defence for if we ever had our base invaded.”

“Mind shield,” Mike muttered, drawing a grin from Brad.

“What about you, Mike?” Sci asked. “Not interested in flying an X-wing?”

Mike relaxed comfortably in his chair, and smiled. “Perhaps. If I’m needed. In the meantime, I spend enough time working on them, thank you very much. At least with the TIEs they’re taken care of by the MRAF.”

“Speaking of which, is Thayer still thinking of pushing ahead with the Eurofighter order?” Josh asked his commanding officer.

“On the backburner, I believe,” Sci said, consulting a datapad. “He has other things to spend the money on right now.”

“A wedding?” Mike asked.

“Still no news,” Vickie replied, her face twitching slightly as she mostly suppressed a grin. “Anyone would think those two didn’t want to get married after all...”

“They did say at least a year before the big day,” Brad offered.

"True enough,” Vickie agreeed. “But Becki’s school must be ready to go back soon. Maybe she’ll decide early.”

Josh snorted. “I doubt it,” he said. “If I were her, I’d enjoy the single life,” he added.

“Like you?” Vickie asked, sweetly. Josh didn’t reply, although the tips of his ears coloured slightly.

“Anyway,” Sci cut in, saving Josh from further teasing. “Time to get to work, people. You all know what you have to do.”

The four friends left Sci’s office. Josh looked back as the door shut, and noted Sci looking at the teetering pile of datacards in his In tray with a faint hint of despair on his face. He tried reaching out through the Force, but Sci was undetectable.

“Doesn’t work,” Vickie commented, with her back to him. She turned with a smile on her face, happy to educate her padawan further.

“I’ll remember,” Josh said, exasperatedly. “One of these days.”

“Still trying to read everyone you meet?” she asked.

“I’m getting better,” Josh said, with a wan smile. “I just need the practise. It doesn’t help that you shut yourself down to me,” he added, pointedly.

“Master’s privilege,” she said, with an impish grin.

“Or you,” Josh said, looking pointedly at Brad.

“Never mind. The Force helps us all, I guess,” Brad replied.

“Or you,” Josh said, gesturing at Mike.

“It’s not safe to know what I’m thinking,” Mike said, pausing to look out a window. In the distance, a rock outcropping stood silent and alone at the tip of the island. “It’s generally X-rated, at the very least.”

Vickie snorted. “We’re all adults,” she said.

“You, least of all, want to be looking in my head, Captain,” Mike said, poking his tongue out at her.

He had the satisfaction of seeing Vickie blush slightly, before the quartet's meandering course bought them to the hangar entrance.

“Here’s where we go our own ways,” Josh said. “I’ve got flight school today. Brad?”

“Working on the B-Wing,” he said. His voice was joined by those of the others. Brad had been working on the B-Wing almost nonstop for several months.

“I've got meditation, lightsabre practise, a little light lunch,” Vickie said, smiling. “Mike?”

The Brit snorted. “Let me see... Sunday... Today, I think I’m replacing the extruder valve input manifold on the Red Home, fitting a new inertial compensator on X-2, and maybe making plans for my show tomorrow morning, if I have time.”

“Want me to bring you your lunch?” Vickie offered.

“Please,” he replied.

Vickie waved to her friends as she headed off towards her quarters. Brad split off to head to the separate hangar where the B-Wing had been placed for work.

“X-2 is getting repaired?” Josh asked, as he and Mike entered the hangar.

“Yeah. Found an inertial compensator on the Home last night when I was having a spring clean. Shouldn’t take more than half an hour.”

“So you weren’t entirely truthful to Sci earlier?”

Mike made an expressive gesture involving much vigorous movement of his hands, which prompted a grin from Josh.

“I see,” the American said. “Just so long as we don’t have to scramble, is all.”

“Ah, it’s fine really. It’ll fly, but it needs replacing soon, and as I have the part, I might as well get ahead of the work now. I’m sure it’ll pile up later.”

“Makes sense,” Josh acknowledged. “Well, flight school is in session,” he said, looking at his watch. “See you later,” he added, slapping Mike on the back as he headed off to the trio of Mendellian pilots.

Mike looked at the pilots, and recognised Noreh S’ytsirk among them. He waved to his friend, and she waved back. He grinned as he realised the other -male- pilots were both vying for her attention. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he called Josh to warn him.

As the door shut behind the other Mendellian-resident members of Terra Group, Sci looked around his office with a feeling of despair. While he loved his job, and wouldn’t have changed it for anything, there were days that he felt SACUL, the New Republic and the Mendellian Government as well were all working to bury him under a pile of work. He was also smart enough to know that there were times that every worker felt that way.

Sitting down behind his desk, he reached for the first datapad, and was dragged into a diverted bureaucratic war between two Mendellian ministers, one pro-Terra Group, one well known as being anti-Terra Group. Anti objected to their presence and their craft overflying the island. Pro had, annoyingly, answered rather abruptly, resulting in a slanging match that had somehow been sent to Sci for resolution.

Sci groaned, and slung the file onto his desk. For a brief instant, he missed Thraawn and Eugor Atner.

Vickie entered the cool room she had set up as a training place for herself and Josh. The room, devoid of adornments, was deliberately kept at a cold temperature. Vickie had heard of the Jedi practise of wearing scratchy clothes as a permanent focusing exercise, but she was a practical woman, and this was her version. She lowered herself into a meditation position, her karate-like clothing keeping none of the coolness from her skin. Tapping into the Force, she ran through a series of sensory exercises: deadening her temperature sense, raising her body temperature to combat the external chill, finally closing down all of her normal five senses.

Then, she reached out through the Force.

Every Jedi has their strengths and their weaknesses. One of Vickie's strengths was to read the people around her. Corran Horn, the Rogue Jedi who’d been her teacher for a short time, had called it his sphere of influence. Within it, he knew what everyone was feeling. Vickie, without Corran’s lawkeeping instincts, simply saw it as an exercise in the Force. Besides, she felt vaguely intrusive, touching other people’s minds.

Instead, she settled for a blanket effect, touching the whole castle through the Force, gently, shallowly. She was careful not to probe too deep, but even so, she recognised some of the people.

Rich was unmistakable. He was briefing his kitchen staff on the day's meals. Lunch, tea, dinner. Each required its own planning, and Rich was good at it. Despite her sensory deprivation exercises, she could feel her stomach grumble. Small wonder, as her sensations were always strengthened when her husband was involved.

There was Josh, her padawan. She smiled inwardly at the pride burning off him as he taught the Mendellian pilots how to fly the extra-galactic fighter craft.

And Mike, contentedly rummaging around in a spaceship engine. A sense of peace was coming from her friend, which prompted another smile.

Sci's office was empty as far as she could tell, but she knew he was in there. Probably pacing up and down. Others in the palace seemed to give off little in the way of emotion, but Sci was effectively nonexistent, Force-wise. The last time she’d spoken to Corran, he’d mentioned that Luke Skywalker was interested in meeting Sci again. She wondered how Sci would take that...

Josh had taken Mike’s comment under advisement. Splitting the two male pilots, he’d placed himself and Noreh into the lead craft of two two-ship elements. He wondered what would happen now.

“Check in,” he called over the comm.

“Two, ready to fly,” came the voice of one of the male Mendellians. His name was Anaugi S’ics.

“Three, all burning up,” came Noreh’s voice. By agreement with Josh, she was speaking as huskily as possible. It worked.

There was a swallow, and a slightly breathless “Four, all systems go,” from Kwah S’Newrom.

“Let’s take 'em out,” Josh said, grinning. Discipline was a lot less slack here than in the USAF, and he was going to have some fun with that today.

“Remember,” he added. “Standard flight formations until we break, then it’s two on two. First two dead buy the drinks later.” He flicked to a private channel with Noreh. “Ready?” he asked, as he eased back on the control stick. The four craft eased up into the clouds.

“Yes Lieutenant,” Noreh breathed. Josh shivered as he imagined what she had in store for her compatriots.

Thayer Atner sat slumped in his chair, having won a brief respite from the endless council meetings. A mug of coffee sat untouched beside the hologram generator which lay on the desktop in front of him.

The hologram was running silently, a short sequence repeated endlessly. Terra Three, Rebecca Bush, his fiancée, was shown walking out of the castle’s kitchen with a bowl in one hand, a spoon in the other, and batter mix smeared over her face and through her hair. When he’d recorded the short film -much to her displeasure, he remembered- he’d thought she’d never looked so lovely. And he knew that he could have been about to lose her, preparing as she was for the great battle against the villains who’d aided his uncle’s ascendancy to the throne.

But all that was past. His beloved was safe enough, he heard. But the e-mails had dried up, and each day without communication made it a little harder to contact her again. What if she’d met someone else, or just decided they weren’t right for each other? Could the pain of knowing possibly be worse than the sweet uncertainty he currently experienced?

He shook his head, desperate for distraction. He thought of taking one of the ships out for a flight, for in the air he was free. But on his last flight he’d nearly been spotted when he’d let his mind wander, and now he was shying away from such a risky distraction.

But he needed something to take his mind from his love. And he knew just the person to talk to.

“Nine,” Vickie answered the comlink.

“Lunch?” came the reply. Her eyes snapped open, and she glanced down at the chrono. Her emotions split between pride and dismay. She’d never achieved such a lengthy meditation, but she’d forgotten her promise to take Mike his lunch. She chided herself as she scrambled for civilian clothes, especially as he was working on her personal X-wing.

“Scifantasy,” he answered.

“Sci, this is Thayer. Are you free this afternoon?”

“I’m never free, Thayer. But if you have something you’d like me to do, then I am at your command.”

“I’m reliably informed that there is a sunken wreck off the coast of the island that requires immediate surveying.”

“Sounds serious,” Sci said, his interest piqued.

“Oh yes. I haven’t been down to it since I was a child, and I think it’s time it was checked over again. And none of the councillors are cleared for scuba diving, so...”

Sci understood. And he had to make sure Thayer was safe, didn’t he?

Kwah had fallen quickly. Josh had been monitoring the communications between the members of Element Two, and Noreh’s breathy innuendo had sufficiently distracted the Mendellian that he hadn’t noticed Josh and Anaugi coming in from above. He’d been swiftly impaled upon Josh’s quad laser blasts.

Now Element One had the numerical advantage, but Josh noticed that his comm panel was indicating private communication ongoing between Two and Three. Two’s handling of his X-wing became somewhat robotic as, Josh assumed, Noreh’s flirting increased in force. Suddenly, Two’s ship jumped noticeably, making Josh slew out of his way.

A series of muted cheeps from Hyper indicated torpedo launches, but not ones aimed at his craft. Flicking through data streams on his HUD, he located the incoming torpedoes, and, sure enough, they’d been fired by Noreh at Anaugi. His wingmate hadn’t seemed to notice, however. Josh, curious, increased the volume on the private communications.

And then decreased it, quickly.

He wondered where Noreh had learnt to talk like that.

“Mike?” Vickie called.

She looked around the hangar, which was surprisingly gloomy. Normally, Mike preferred to work in brightness, unless he’d been out drinking the night before. But the hangar was darkened, and Vickie could barely see five feet ahead of her.

She also couldn’t see where Mike was.

“Up here!” he called. She looked around, unable to see anything. Looking up at the imposing bulk of the Red Home, she finally caught sight of a hand waving vaguely from one of the engine pods.

Using the Force to steady herself, she swiftly scaled the ship, using the convenient handholds that had been cut into the side of the ship. Standing atop the hull, she looked around, but couldn’t see her friend. Holding his lunch -a bacon ciabatta and a cold can of coke- in one hand, she picked her way across the sloping, pitted hull.

“I have to hand it to you,” Sci said, handing Thayer an air tank. “This is just wonderful.”

The two men stood in the back of a small boat, away from the cares of the world for an afternoon. The sun beat down on them, warming them blissfully. The clear blue water lapped gently at the bow of the boat which was held in place by an anchor. The water was so clear that Sci could still see the gradually dispersing cloud of sand kicked up by the anchor’s impact on the sea bed.

Thayer strapped the air tank in place with the ease born of long practise. With a sigh, he sat back on the stern of the boat, and adjusted the knife strapped to his leg.

“I dove once, a few years ago, when I was investigating the caves for use by the resistance,” he said. “Just once, in the last ten years. But it’s all coming flooding back.”

Sci looked around with a smile. “Flooding? Brave choice of words on a boat.”

Thayer smiled in return, then pulled his goggles down over his eyes. One last check of his equipment, and then he pushed backwards, dropping with barely a splash into the water.

Sci, in turn, finished his equipment checks, and dove too.

"What is it?" Vickie asked, looking over her friend's shoulder. Mike was crouched in front of an open access panel, his expression unusually stern.

"Something that shouldn't be here," he commented. Vickie set the lunch bag down on the Home's hull and looked closer.

A basketball sized sphere of dull grey metal sat placidly in the tangled midst of wiring exposed to the open air.

"What is it?" Vickie replied, her voice hushed.

"Well, it's not a nuclear device," Mike commented, his voice shaky. "No, that'd be warm to the touch from the decay of the atoms. I think that it's a bomb though."

Vickie blinked several times trying to digest what he was saying. "A bomb," she said, flatly.

"I think so. I had Kell teach me the basics while I was on Coruscant, and this has all the hallmarks."

"Is it...?" Vickie couldn't bring herself to ask.

"No, we're safe," Mike said. "It's pretty crude. It's hooked up to the hyperdrive fuel lines, so as soon as we went off to Coruscant or wherever..." he tailed off.

"Who put it there?" Vickie asked. Mike snorted, before finally turning to face her. Vickie absently noticed that his pale features belied his calm voice and steady hands. He began to count on his fingers.

"Every member of the Mendellian council has some access to the Home's blueprints, so they could have put it here. A reasonably skilled mechanic could have found this spot with not much more than a working knowledge of hyperdrives and a couple of hours to spare."

He looked up at Vickie, and heaved a sigh.

"And thanks to Sci's bargaining with the Council, we had to share data on our ships and equipment with select members of the Council. Including our friends who are a little less supportive than we might ideally like."

"Sci's gonna love this," Vickie commented.

"Fuel to the fire," Mike agreed. "Whoever put it here knew the damage that a ship can sustain when it hits hyperspace. It's at its most vulnerable in those few seconds, inertial compensators or no."

"So what do we do?" Vickie asked.

"Take it out, defuse it, store it for when the opportunity presents itself to put it to use," Mike said.

"Can you do that?" she asked.

"Yeah. It's not live, so it's no more dangerous than play dough. You can start a fire with plastique, it's so stable."

Vickie swept her arm across her forehead. "You worry me, sometimes."

"A year ago I was worried about exams and coursework," Mike replied with a wry grin. "Now I have someone trying to blow up me and my mates."

Vickie grinned. "So, the pressure's off, huh?"

As he followed Thayer, Sci marvelled at the life so abundant just a few minutes from Mendellia's shores. Giant octopuses propelled themselves lazily through the deep blue sea, while schools of exotic fish zigzagged aimlessly across his field of view.

We're not in Kansas anymore... he thought.

And all the while, gradually growing clearer, was the wreck. It had been one of the ships of the pirate settlers 400 years ago, before sinking in a storm. Far from needing a survey, it was a popular haunt for local scuba enthusiasts, and some daring skin divers had even made their way down to the ship.

Josh brought his X-wing triumphantly home, having finished the day's training without so much as a point against him. Behind him, the rest of Sky Flight filed silently into the hangar, their X-wings landing precisely on the painted landing spots. Josh grinned as he raised his canopy. At least they weren’t crashing on landing.

Josh hopped down from the s-foil and looked around. Normally, a multitude of technicians would have run up to the X-wings on landing, bringing ladders and so on. The hangar looked deserted, and that was unusual. The X-wings still possessed novelty value, and the techs were usually scrambling to get near them.

But not today.

Josh looked around and, leaving Noreh to conduct the after mission briefing, headed over to the Red Home, where he could hear familiar voices.

As he rounded the corner of the Home, he nearly bumped into Vickie and Mike, who were being very secretive about something. They jumped as he appeared, and looked very guilty. Josh blinked a couple of times, then shook his head. Probably Vickie had been roped into helping Mike prank someone. Certainly the Brit was hiding something behind his back.

Josh rolled his eyes, and then looked at Vickie.

“I’m done with flight school,” he said. “Want to practise with the lightsabre now?”

“Uh…” Vickie began.

“Yeah, go on,” Mike said. “I’ll take care of this. I’ll go see Sharon.”

“If you’re sure…” Vickie said, walking towards Josh even as she was looking at Mike.

“Yep. Oh, Josh, here…” Mike unhooked his lightsabre from the back of his belt and threw it to Josh. Snatching it out of the air, Josh hit one of the buttons, and swung the purple-yellow blade up in an easy guard.

“I have to build one of these…” he said, entranced by the shining blade.

“You have a way to go first,” Vickie replied, similarly distracted.

“Shoo,” said Mike, for whom the lightsabre was a tool and little more. Since losing the Force, he’d sometimes been a bit touchy when Vickie and Josh became overly mystical in their approach to life.

“And you’re sure you’ll be okay?” Vickie said, snapping out of her trance.

Mike nodded, and hustled the two Jedi out of the hangar.

Sharon looked up at her office door as the distinctive knock rang out.

“Come in Mike,” she said with a smile. Helping rebuild a nation was enjoyable and rewarding work, but sometimes she needed a break. The various members of Terra Group seemed to have developed a knack of dropping in at the right time, which pleased Sharon immensely.

The door swung open, and Mike stepped into the office. Crossing he floor to her desk, he set a grey metal sphere down on top of a pile of grant applications. The sphere rolled gently forward, before Sharon stopped it with a finger.

“Is this some new training of Sci’s?” she asked. “Are we supposed to be playing volleyball or …” She tailed off as she caught the seriousness on Mike’s normally merry face.

“What is it?” she asked.

“It’s a bomb,” he replied.

Sci and Thayer swung easily through the briny deep. All around them, fronds of seaweed swayed gently as their passage swirled the water around them. Their wrist lights barely penetrated the gloom, and their unknown companion was intrigued by their -comparatively- clumsy movements. Its simple brain was slowly turning over the question of whether or not these creatures might make for good eating or not.

Eventually, it decided. They would.

The shark swum forward, its every nerve ending tingling with the constant data it was receiving. The uncomplicated thought processes fizzing through its brain amounted roughly to ‘Things=Food’.

Sharon had gibbered, momentarily, before regaining control of herself. She looked over the bomb, her finger still touching the surface of the sphere, and beckoned for Mike to tell the story.

He did so, skimping on no details, stressing heavily the likelihood of one or more of the Mendellian councillors being involved.

“You want me to take care of it?” Sharon asked. Mike’s eyes strayed, momentarily, to the sniper rifle lying in its rack behind Sharon’s desk.

“Maybe. I figured you should know, whatever happens. You have any ideas?”

“A few. Maybe Brad can help me,” she replied, with a grin.

“Good cop, bad cop?” Mike speculated. Sharon only smiled, before picking up the bomb, and tossing it lightly from one hand to the other.

Sci was fascinated. The ship around him was almost as much as an anachronism as the GFFA ships had been at first. He pored greedily over the remains of the once proud vessel. So engrossed was he, that it took him several seconds to recognise that Thayer’s wrist beam was snapping on and off, in their prearranged danger signal. He looked around, and suddenly saw it.

Floating idly in between himself and Thayer, seemingly sizing the two of them up as it swung its head from side to side, was a great white shark. Sci swallowed nervously, waving slightly to Thayer that he was okay. Sci looked on in horror as the shark swung purposefully toward him. Realising that his movements had attracted the shark’s attention, he froze.

Thayer looked on in horror as the shark began to inch toward his friend. Futilely, he grabbed at his right hip, knowing as he did so that his blaster wasn’t there. Reaching further down, he grabbed at the knife on his thigh, and yanked it from its sheath. Pushing off the wall of the ships’ cabin, he moved rapidly over the top of the shark, preparing to stab down at it, and save Sci.

Instead, the shark swung its muscular tale up, and swatted Thayer hard across the chest, sending the Mendellian ruler swinging dizzily away from it.

Sci groaned. He could have warned Thayer about the shark’s incredible awareness, but, of course, he couldn’t say anything. He swore, and wondered how quick the shark would be. He was certain that it was quicker than he was. Staying stock still, he watched as the shark regained its bearing. Sci watched as the air bubbles from its brief fight with Thayer cleared, and the shark relocated itself. A germ of an idea began to form in Sci’s head.

Vickie and Josh squared off again. They were soaked in sweat, their bodies weary, their minds exhausted. Still Vickie pushed, unwilling to give up until one of them dropped.

The lightsabres dipped, signalling the beginning of another round. The two had lost track of the score long before, but still the blades clashed.

Vickie had been at pains to point out that lightsabre combat wasn’t just an opportunity to look cool. It was an exercise in every aspect of the Force. Much remained uncertain about the two friends’ powers, and lightsabre combat was an excellent way of stretching their skills.

The blades clashed as Vickie blocked a Josh attack. The two shafts of light hissed as they held contact, before Vickie shifted back a step, and Josh stumbled forwards. Vickie swung a low blow towards Josh’s knees, but the Texan hopped over the blade, countering with a wild swing of his own that would have taken Vickie’s head off.

If the blades had been fully powered.

And if it had connected.

Instead, Vickie jumped backwards, and Josh’s blow swung him around, allowing Vickie to kick him in the small of the back. Josh pitched forward, his lightsabre flying from his hand as he crashed to the floor.

In a second, Vickie was standing over him, the tip of her blade tickling the hairs on the back of his neck. Grumbling a little, Josh slapped the floor once, conceding the point.

Vickie snapped off her lightsabre, allowing Josh to roll onto his back, and then sit up. His chest heaved from the exertion of their fight.

“Enough?” she asked.

He looked over to where his lightsabre sat, several metres away. He cast his hand out to it, trying to will it back to him, but the weapon barely twitched.

“Enough,” he agreed, slumping back onto the floor.

Brad stood in the corner of the room, awaiting the arrival of Sharon’s first post-lunch appointment. He was dressed in a black suit, his eyes covered by jet black sunglasses. He replaced Trab, Sharon’s usual bodyguard, and looked the intimidating part exactly.

Sharon looked up at her team-mate, and gave a grim nod. The bomb sat on one side of her desk, amid the general clutter of the day’s work.

She pressed a button on the intercom, telling the secretary to show in her next visitor. The door swung open, and Councillor Yad Ecin stepped into the room. He scanned the interior arrogantly, allowing his gaze to linger on Sharon. Inside, she shivered under his gaze, but she presented an aura of cool calm to the Councillor. She noted that his gaze didn’t even register Brad, standing in the corner.

Then his roving eyes locked onto the bomb, sitting innocently on her desk. He looked at it with a mixture of fear and surprise on his face. It was all the proof Sharon needed, but she decided to have some fun with her prey.

Looking up at Brad, she nodded. The silent Australian stepped forward, and pulled out a chair for Ecin to sit on. The Councillor stumbled forward and sank into his seat. As he sat down, Sharon assessed him. His skin was pale, and sweat was already running down his plump face.

“Now, Councillor,” she began. “I believe you had some comments you wanted to make about Terra Group…”

“Yes, yes I did,” he replied, mustering all the pomp and nobility his lineage had bestowed on him. He began to speak, but Sharon suspected that the thoughts he was voicing weren’t entirely his own. “I make no secret that, with regard to you and your people, I take the side of men like Sklat Mram. I believe your presence in our country to be an, uh, unnecessary drain on our resources. Lord Thayer’s infatuation with yourself and his commoner Queen demeans our once proud nation. This sort of thing would, um, never have happened under Lord Thayer’s father. You people have an unhealthy amount of influence on the Dictator, and I would see you gone from our isle.”

“I see,” Sharon said, injecting a hurt tone into her voice. Absently, she picked up the bomb, and toyed with it. “Of course,” she said, brightening. “Not everyone feels this way. Some anonymous friend of Terra Group left this in one of our ships. It’s pretty, isn’t it? Exquisite workmanship, so smooth…” she ran her hands over the surface of the sphere. “I was thinking of having it etched with the nations of the Earth, what do you think?”

She threw the bomb across the desk, and it hit Ecin on the chest. He froze in terror, before pushing backwards in shock, and toppling his chair over. In a flash, he was upright, and turning to leave the room, but he bumped into Brad, who was blocking the door, emotionlessly.

Ecin span around, all composure lost.

“What are you playing at?” he spat at Sharon, who sat still in her chair. Suddenly, a strong hand clamped down on Ecin’s shoulder, and the Councillor was spun around and shoved back into Sharon’s desk.

“Listen, ‘mate’,” Brad hissed, his face bare inches from Ecin’s. “If you and your people are trying to get rid of us, you’re going the wrong way about it. We don’t like bombs. We don’t like sabotage. We tend to get a bit upset when people try and kill us.”

The lights in the room were flickering, bathing Brad’s emotionless visage in alternating strange patterns of light and shade. Ecin gibbered, allowing Brad and Sharon to see him for what he really was. A small, petty man who wouldn’t dare confront Terra Group directly. Sharon doubted he’d planned the bomb plot, but he certainly seemed to know about it.

Sharon tutted, inwardly, as Ecin fled from the room. Brad stepped back from the desk, and the light show eased off. The room returned to normal, and Brad bent down to pick up he bomb. He looked at it briefly, before setting it on the desk.

“What now?” he asked.

Sharon pursed her lips, thinking for a second.

“I’ll keep the bomb here,” she said. “Ecin may not want to say what a wimp he is, and we might catch someone else out. But the rest of my meetings today are pro-Terra Group councillors, or ones who are neutral to us. I doubt we’ll get anything from them…”

“You still need me about?”

“No, I guess not. Send Trab back in, will you? And thanks, Brad. Couldn’t have done it without you. Maybe Ecin will warn his friends off…”

“I guess we can hope. Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be-“

“In the hangar, working on your ship. I know,” she replied, with a smile.

Thayer slowly shook off the dizziness, and tried to sort out where he was. Looking around, he seemed to be upside down, in a far corner of the ship’s main cabin. Turning right side up, he looked around, and saw the shark homing in on Sci. He swam closer, trying to work out what Sci was doing. He shook his head, muzzily, sure he was imagining things. Sci surely couldn’t be taking off his air tank, could he?

Indeed he was. Sci was watching the shark very closely, his eyes fixed on the rows of sharp teeth that would, given the chance, tear him into shreds.

His fingers fumbled with the catch of the air tank, eventually undoing the clasp. His eyes still fixed on the shark, he slipped the straps from his shoulders.

The shark’s whole body was humming, its awareness of its surrounding almost total. The thing was curled up tight, with nothing for its unwieldy mouth to grip on to. It waited, patiently, sure that sooner or later, the thing would start to move. Everything did, sooner or later.

Sci eased the air tank down, hoping that Thayer could see what he was about do, and would be ready to move. He’d need his friend to get out of here alive.

Thayer watched in horror as Sci took several deep breaths, and then pulled the breath mask from his face. Sci suddenly swung the mask into the shark’s face, spraying bubbles at the huge predator.

The shark swung its body, slightly, trying to avoid the disorienting stream of bubbles. Sadly for it, Sci chose that moment to jam the heavy air tank into it’s mouth.

The tank stuck tight, and Sci yanked out the air hose, sending a steady stream of bubbles from the valve directly over the shark’s face. The shark thrashed wildly, its senses completely overwhelmed by the sudden pain and disorienting blast of air.

Sci dived out of the way of the shark’s tail, and swam towards the door. Already, his lungs were feeling like they were on fire, and he felt certain he wouldn’t even make it out of the ship.

Then strong hands claimed him, and a breath mask was clamped down on his face. Gratefully, he took a deep breath, and added his own kicking to Thayer’s. The two men swum slowly out of the room, leaving the pained shark behind them. Making their way out of the ship, they alternated the breath mask on their way to the surface. As they broke the surface, Sci gasped a breath of fresh air. Thayer, a few seconds behind, did likewise.

Slowly, the friends made their way back to the boat. Thayer climbed over the bow, and dropped panting to the deck. He helped Sci into the boat, and the two slumped onto the deck, trying to slow their breathing.

“Our friends on the council are gonna be upset,” Sci managed to say.

“Why?” Thayer gasped.

Sci ticked the point off on his fingers as he stared up at the clear blue sky.

“I nearly got you killed, I destroyed the air tank - valuable Mendellian property, and I nearly got myself killed, but didn’t…”

The two friends laughed, their relief at cheating death once more overwhelming everything else.

Vickie was one of the first to head down for dinner that night. Grabbing a plate from the stack by the door, she headed for the serving hatch, only to find Mike there in front of her.

“You’re here early,” she said, grinning at her friend.

"Very early,” Rich commented, ladling casserole onto Mike’s plate. “That’s his second helping.”

Vickie laughed. “You pig!”

Mike looked around. “Well, if someone had brought me my lunch…” he began.

“I did bring you your lunch,” she said, a bit sheepishly.

“An hour and a half late,” he said, quietly. He caught her eye, and grinned. “And I didn’t get much of a chance to eat it, after all that fuss. And that was all your fault.”

“My fault? MY fault? How do you work that out?”

“Not sure yet… give me a few minutes and I’ll think of a reason.”

Vickie snorted and, with a kiss for Rich, headed over to sit at a table. After begging Rich for a little more casserole, Mike followed.

Joining them soon after were Thayer and Sci, who looked exhausted, and were still wet from the showers they’d just taken. Both men, however, looked suspiciously happy with themselves.

The quartet quickly grew in size. First Brad, then Sharon, and finally Josh and Noreh joined the table, and soon the eight friends were all laughing and talking.

Rich wandered over from the kitchen to catch up.

“So, how was everyone’s day?” he asked.

The eight looked at one another, and then:

“Nothing special.”

“The usual.”

“Bit boring really”

Rich looked surprised. “Really?”

“Well, actually…”

“Yeah… Now you come to mention it…”

END