A Spaceman

Chapter 31--Funk and then Funky

"Red one to Colony do you read me?"

"The supreme commanders read you who is this?"

"Red one."

"Copy who is this?"

"Red one."

"Copy we need to verify your identity."

"Is this not the American Colony?"

"We are Supreme Commanders of FYTC."

"Identify yourself."

"Identify yourself."

"Quinn---Quinn---give me the radio Quinn---oww, damn you---"

"Do you copy?"

"Yes, I copy," I say, burying my knee in Quinn's back as I kneel at the radio control desk, the microphone in hand. "Is this Red one?"

"Who is speaking?"

"Commander North," I say, smacking Quinn on the back of the head as he tries to get up. "Listen our signal is about to get jammed. We are in a state of war with natives. Trust no communications of coordinates except those I am about to give you."

"Ferminsona yconimus talare carnifax!!" Quinn cries angrily from beneath me.

"Shush---Spot let go I'm not hurting him," I say, as the Isylgyn begins tugging on my head with one tentacle.

"Are you secure commander?"

"Yes, everything here is fine, don't worry about me---you need to navigate to my base which is Milton SFB, it is a 2840 naught 10879 bearing from 61 Cyg and Denab, do you copy?" I ask, desperately. Already I can hear him fading out.

"We were already issued coordinates yesterday."

"Those are false, disregard," I say.

"They were in English with the proper encryption code—"

"I KNOW disregard!! I repeat DISREGARD," I cry, Spot has nearly freed Quinn.

"Problems?" I feel Tess lifting the squishy alien off of me.

"Thank you, love---DISREGARD all previous coordinates, do you copy?" I ask, again.

"Negative, we cannot alter our course at this point in the descent."

"Shit shit shit—you need to alter it as much as you can it will be trap," I say.

"As I said the coordinates received included the code—"

"We've been betrayed! One of our generals has aligned with the alien forces, known to us as Isylgyns, and is now seeking to destroy us and you and apparently control this portion of the universe. His name is Titus Card and he is not to be trusted," I say.

"He informed us he was—" the signal is cutting out.

"I KNOW! He lies! Listen to me or you will die--," I say.

"Copy," comes through, crackling.

"We will alter our course as much as possible. Out."

"We'll be there when you land," I say, but already the signal has faded.

Then a familiar voice says over the microphone, "You really didn't expect me to have my fatal trap where I directed them did you?"

"Damn it," I say, slamming my head into the table.

"Thank you for telling them to alter their course," Titus purrs, "Now they should be right about where my ambush is, see you soon Alexander."

"Wouldn't you rather attack Milton while half my troops are out collecting the colonizers?" I ask, icily.