The Four Baristas: Double Shot

Chapter 15

"Oh, man. Hey, yacht-dude?"

"Yes, Mr Wandoo?"

"That ship up ahead looks a hell of a lot like a freaking Rigellian battlecruiser—please don't tell me those douches have beaten us to the barista yet again."

"As you wish, Mr Wandoo."

Silence reigned on the bridge as Chek sat and fumed and watched the blue-green world of Blerg—and the hulking, beweaponed craft orbiting it—grow steadily larger.

"But they have, haven't they?" he blurted. Chek didn't really do silence.

"It would seem so, Mr Wandoo."

"Ah, splarfing nardwarkles," he swore, in the process achieving the not insignificant accomplishment of shocking a quantum-grade artificial intelligence. "Well, let's at least see what the dweebs are up to. Scan all local communication channels, byte-boy. I want all the goss on the Earth-babe—where she's at, what's she's up to, whether they've bagged her yet, etc. You know, all that kind of stuff."

"And should I scan for information on your sister as well, Mr Wandoo?"

"Hmm? Oh, yeah—may as well."

"Yes, sir. Commencing scan."

Motioning to a service-droid for a drink, Chek contemplated the kilometre-long, shark-like shape of the cruiser, as he pondered the presence and actions of both it and its sister-ship back at Vanoo Prime.

It was hard to escape the conclusion that—despite all appearances to the contrary—the Rigellians were smart enough to learn from their mistakes. If they were going after Earth again, it made sense they'd want to take out the primary thing that stood in their way last time. And that thing—well, things—had been the baristas. Kwoin and Flenson and EJ, the Australian PM and a host of other characters, including Chek himself, had played their part but even with an ego as rampant as his, he knew all too well who the key figures in the resistance had really been.

Four baristas. One was lost in space. Two had been captured by the Rigellians, right under his tanned and well-proportioned nose. And now, it seemed the fourth was about to share the same fate. If she hadn't already.

Squaring his shoulders, he drained his drink and tossed the empty glass over his shoulder (where another droid, stationed there by the ship's computer for just such an eventuality, caught it before it could smash anything important). "Not if Chek freakin' Wandoo has anything to do with it," he declared.

"Sir?" queried the ship.

"Never mind, quantum-man. How are those scans coming along? Have the dickwads bagged the babe?"

"Sir, transmissions between the cruiser and the Rigellian forces on the planet are somewhat garbled. And not a little frantic. However, it seems clear Miss Mel and Miss Wandoo are proving...problematic."

Chek nodded, as recollections of both the women in question appeared in his mind's eye. "I can imagine."

"Indeed, sir. Current communications indicate the situation is escalating rapidly and—"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Spare me the deets, dude. I just wanna know, are the babes on the big, blue ball or on the boat?"

"Sir?"

"Sheesh. For a killer AI, you can be a little slow on the uptake, computer-man. Read my lips—are the Earth-lady and Kiko still on Blerg or have the the bad guys taken 'em to the cruiser?"

"Oh, I see, sir. I can confirm both the young ladies are still very much planetside."

In response to the first morsel of good news he'd received in quite some time, Chek's uncharacteristic frown morphed into a much more typical grin. "Excellent. In that case, ship-dude, I think it might be time to give our new toy a little test-run. Crank that baby up, and then lock and load."