But What Will The Gods Eat Tomorrow?

The Adventures of Jonny Cougar – Vol. II

Vroooop, Vroooop! Klaxons sounded throughout the cockpit, interrupting a very pleasant dream involving me and the Recreational Service Coordinators of Bacchanal V (1). I jerked awake and sat bolt upright–or would have, except my safety harness held me firmly in place. Grinding my teeth in pain, I hit the buttons to return the seat to its full, upright position and unhooked the harness. Finally free of my restraints, I sat up and scanned the vid screen for approaching ships, missiles, or asteroids. My heart was pounding, and I could barely catch my breath.

"What’s the problem?" I asked Tempest, my AI, as I frantically checked the gauges for anything out of the ordinary. "Are we under attack? Is the NOVA drive (2) on overload?"

The klaxons stopped, and a dry, metallic laughter filled the cockpit. "I never get tired of that!" Tempest said to himself, and my gut clenched. "Oh, you should see the look on your face! It’s priceless. Almost worth being trapped in the middle of nowhere with a Human!"

"Why," I asked, gritting my teeth together, "do you insist on doing that? One of these days you’re going to sound the alarm and I’m not going to pay any attention to you!"

"Now, don’t get mad, Jonny!" Tempest replied in a condescending tone. "I’m just trying to keep morale up. We’ve been sitting out here for days (3)!"

"You’re doing a lousy job." I reached beneath my seat, feeling around for my emergency supply of aspirin. "And don’t call me Jonny!"

"On the contrary, Jonny," Tempest stated. "I’m feeling much better than I did a few minutes ago."

I groaned again and tried not to cry. Tempest enjoyed that kind of thing. Ever since we’d been assigned together, he’d delighted in torturing me, belittling me, and very nearly driving me insane. And what did I ever do to him? Only inadvertently interfered with his plans of interstellar domination, thwarted his attempt to eradicate humanity, and delivered him back into the hands of his creators, who at the time had been hell-bent on becoming his destroyers.

Okay, I admit that he might be justified in holding a grudge.

But I still didn’t understand why the Stellar Fleet to assign me to the Dragon (4). I’d served the Fleet faithfully for most of my life. I had at least as many commendations and awards as disciplinary reports. Nothing I’d ever done warranted the abuse I now had to endure.

"Did you wake me for a reason, Scrapheap?" I asked, trying to sound more angry than miserable. "Or were you just amusing yourself?"

"No, I had a reason," Tempest admitted. A soft whirring sound came from within the console. "I’ve got to give you credit, Jonny, that bit with the safety harness…Classic! There must be fewer than twenty people in the FEDs (5) who could pull off a trick like that so naturally. Why–Hey! What’re you doing?"

I was laying my chair back down. "I’m going back to sleep." High Command had been promising a volume control for quite some time. I hope they get off their bureaucratic asses soon and file the necessary paperwork.

The problem was, no one was supposed to know about the Dragon. It was a secret, a top secret, the kind of secret that, if it got out, would get me court-martialed–or killed–and Tempest destroyed. More people liked to watch vids of golf tournaments (6) than knew about the Dragon. Just finding techs skilled and loyal enough to work on the Dragon was a daunting task.