Capellan
Explorer
"The Targ Totality" - Part 11
"Wait, Princess." Fury holds up a hand to delay S'Ondra. She stops, scowling.
"What is it now?"
"Before we leave, I think the Doc and I should swap outfits." Fury gestures at the Targ encounter suit he is wearing.
"Is this really the moment for sartorial concerns, Captain?" Archie enquires.
"The Doc has the officer's uniform." Fury explains, "If we want to get past the guards at the hangar, it's probably better if I do the talking, which means I need to be the officer."
"Do you not believe zat I could do ze job?"
To his credit, the Captain refrains from mentioning Gustav's attempt to bluff the scientists.
"They'll be military types, Doc. As a member of Space Force, I've got the best chance of talking like one of them."
"I have no doubt the Captain will make a very convincing alien thug." Archie offers. He turns his head toward their Targ captives, "Should we also take one of the scientists with us?"
"You don't need a pet." Fury replies as he strips out of his encounter suit, the muscles of his broad chest rippling as he moves. "Besides, where would we keep it?"
"We could make him a hood ornament." S'Ondra mutters darkly.
"I zink it is best if we leave zem." Gustav's voice is muffled by the encounter suit, which is pulled halfway over his head, but now seems to have become stuck. He twists and turns, hands pulling futilely at the fabric. S'Ondra sighs and walks over, yanking the suit clean off him. "Ah, zank you, leibchen." Gustav gives her a nod, then scratches his grey-haired chest in satisfaction, "Zank goodness I am out of zat suit. I had an itch that was driving me crazy."
"Don't get used to it, Doc. You have to put this on." Fury shoves his suit at Gustav, then accepts the older man's suit from S'Ondra. He gives her a suggestive grin, "Will you help me get out of my suit later, Princess?"
"Not even in your dreams, Captain." She returns, frostily.
Eventually, the four space adventurers set off toward the hangar, once more under Archie's guidance.
"The ship schematics show that we should follow this corridor to the end, then descend two floors." The robot announces as they leave. The two Targ scientists, gagged and bound, glare impotently at them as the laboratory door closes.
"Then what?" Fury asks.
"Then we take the corridor left -" Archie's directions continue over a montage of the Pathfinder crew hurrying through the Targ ship, "- turn right at the third intersection, continue for two hundred yards, and descend another three floors. After that, we simply go right for eighty yards, turn left -"
We settle back to the crew as they stand before a broad, white door.
"- and there we are." The robot finishes in satisfaction.
"Good show, Archie." Fury unclips the weapon at his side, "Alright folks, I'm going to try and get us past the guards without a fight. If it works, we'll get on the ship, fire her up, and fly out of here before anyone knows what we're doing."
"And if it doesn't vork?" Gustav asks.
"Then we shoot them." Fury shrugs.
"Works for me." S'Ondra sounds positively eager.
Fury leads the way into the hangar, striding purposefully with his chest thrown out. Ignoring the Targ who are working in the area, he heads straight toward the Pathfinder. The other three trail behind him, Gustav at the rear.
"You there!" one of the Targ notices the newcomers, "What are you doing here?"
Fury snaps off a rapid fire salute and keeps walking as he throws back his answer,
"We've been ordered to bring the alien prisoners to the ship and make them explain its faculties."
Hurrying after the quartet, the Targ steps in front of the Captain. Fury skids to a reluctant halt, just short of a collision.
"What's your authorisation code?" the Targ demands.
Fury doesn't even blink (not that we could tell, what with the face mask he's wearing)
"Authorisation Code Five Two Alpha Six Charlie Niner."
The Targ officer - the large rank insignia on his suit can only mean he's some kind of commander - begins to step aside. Then he pauses, pointing at the Princess.
"Why is that alien armed?"
"Oh, the hell with this." S'Ondra snaps her heat lance into firing position and blasts the Targ off his feet with a single well-placed shot.
Bedlam ensues.
"Wait, Princess." Fury holds up a hand to delay S'Ondra. She stops, scowling.
"What is it now?"
"Before we leave, I think the Doc and I should swap outfits." Fury gestures at the Targ encounter suit he is wearing.
"Is this really the moment for sartorial concerns, Captain?" Archie enquires.
"The Doc has the officer's uniform." Fury explains, "If we want to get past the guards at the hangar, it's probably better if I do the talking, which means I need to be the officer."
"Do you not believe zat I could do ze job?"
To his credit, the Captain refrains from mentioning Gustav's attempt to bluff the scientists.
"They'll be military types, Doc. As a member of Space Force, I've got the best chance of talking like one of them."
"I have no doubt the Captain will make a very convincing alien thug." Archie offers. He turns his head toward their Targ captives, "Should we also take one of the scientists with us?"
"You don't need a pet." Fury replies as he strips out of his encounter suit, the muscles of his broad chest rippling as he moves. "Besides, where would we keep it?"
"We could make him a hood ornament." S'Ondra mutters darkly.
"I zink it is best if we leave zem." Gustav's voice is muffled by the encounter suit, which is pulled halfway over his head, but now seems to have become stuck. He twists and turns, hands pulling futilely at the fabric. S'Ondra sighs and walks over, yanking the suit clean off him. "Ah, zank you, leibchen." Gustav gives her a nod, then scratches his grey-haired chest in satisfaction, "Zank goodness I am out of zat suit. I had an itch that was driving me crazy."
"Don't get used to it, Doc. You have to put this on." Fury shoves his suit at Gustav, then accepts the older man's suit from S'Ondra. He gives her a suggestive grin, "Will you help me get out of my suit later, Princess?"
"Not even in your dreams, Captain." She returns, frostily.
Eventually, the four space adventurers set off toward the hangar, once more under Archie's guidance.
"The ship schematics show that we should follow this corridor to the end, then descend two floors." The robot announces as they leave. The two Targ scientists, gagged and bound, glare impotently at them as the laboratory door closes.
"Then what?" Fury asks.
"Then we take the corridor left -" Archie's directions continue over a montage of the Pathfinder crew hurrying through the Targ ship, "- turn right at the third intersection, continue for two hundred yards, and descend another three floors. After that, we simply go right for eighty yards, turn left -"
We settle back to the crew as they stand before a broad, white door.
"- and there we are." The robot finishes in satisfaction.
"Good show, Archie." Fury unclips the weapon at his side, "Alright folks, I'm going to try and get us past the guards without a fight. If it works, we'll get on the ship, fire her up, and fly out of here before anyone knows what we're doing."
"And if it doesn't vork?" Gustav asks.
"Then we shoot them." Fury shrugs.
"Works for me." S'Ondra sounds positively eager.
Fury leads the way into the hangar, striding purposefully with his chest thrown out. Ignoring the Targ who are working in the area, he heads straight toward the Pathfinder. The other three trail behind him, Gustav at the rear.
"You there!" one of the Targ notices the newcomers, "What are you doing here?"
Fury snaps off a rapid fire salute and keeps walking as he throws back his answer,
"We've been ordered to bring the alien prisoners to the ship and make them explain its faculties."
Hurrying after the quartet, the Targ steps in front of the Captain. Fury skids to a reluctant halt, just short of a collision.
"What's your authorisation code?" the Targ demands.
Fury doesn't even blink (not that we could tell, what with the face mask he's wearing)
"Authorisation Code Five Two Alpha Six Charlie Niner."
The Targ officer - the large rank insignia on his suit can only mean he's some kind of commander - begins to step aside. Then he pauses, pointing at the Princess.
"Why is that alien armed?"
"Oh, the hell with this." S'Ondra snaps her heat lance into firing position and blasts the Targ off his feet with a single well-placed shot.
Bedlam ensues.
