Rocketship Patrol Read Free Page B

could do it over, if you’d like.”
    “No, that’s okay,” Loy said with a sigh. “The moment’s gone. It was only my first reporting-for-duty ceremony, is all. I’ll just write mom a detailed synopsis, I guess.”
    “I’m sure she’ll appreciate that.”
    Loy nodded and smiled. “It’ll be something she can frame for the fridge. So, I guess I need to report to the Lieutenant Detective, right?”
    “Probably.”
    “He’s up on the bridge, no doubt?”
    “Lieutenant Detective Hackenthrush insists we call it a cockpit. But no, he’s not there. He’s in the mess. Which you can find by walking around this corridor until you come to the all-level access ladder, which you’ll take down one–”
    “–level, then hang a right and there’s the mess,” Loy finished for the Ship’s Brain.
    “A mind reader, eh?” 8724 asked.
    “No, nothing like that,” Loy said. “I simply studied up on your layout the moment I got the assignment.”
    “Really? You didn’t just immediately start drafting your reassignment request letter? That’s what most of rookies do once they get word they’re coming here.”
    “Not me,” Loy said. “I couldn’t be more excited than to be aboard such a classic model of patrol rocketship–”
    The sparking crack of a high-energy discharge echoed through the corridor, and Loy reflexively ducked down into a crouch, drawing her service raygun. She swiveled, scanning her surroundings over the raygun’s sight.
    “Was that beam fire?” she asked.
    “Lunch must be over,” 8724 said.
     

     
    A spinning plastic dinner plate arced through the open mess hatchway out into 8724 ’s Deck 5 corridor. A moment later a yellow-blue beam lanced out after it. The beam missed the plate by feet and sliced into the bulkhead where it left a bubbling impact burn—a fresh scar atop hundreds of older scars. The plate, intact, completed its arc by bouncing off the bulkhead. It rolled away down the corridor.
    Lieutenant Detective Archibald Q. Hackenthrush stood in the center of the mess, a beam autorifle in his hands and a napkin tied over his eyes. Human, Hackenthrush was tall and quite bald, his DUPES uniform in need of a host of minor seam and patch repairs, and a major dry cleaning. “Did I hit it?”
    Next to him, Rikkan “Rikky” Ishkansti sniffed the air from under his own blindfold with a stubby pink nose. Compact, tailed, and covered in fine green fur, the Drantini native wore a DUPES uniform that was in slightly better shape than Hackenthrush’s, except for the missing sleeves – which he’d torn off at the shoulder to show off his bulging upper arms. His pill-box police cap was shieldless, and worn back-side front. “How are we supposed to tell?”
    “Intuition.” Hackenthrush lowered the autorifle. “In the spirit of fairness, let’s call it a miss, then. What’s that make it?”
    “Us, zero. Plates, twenty-seven. Do we really have to wear the blindfolds?”
    “Well, it’d hardly be fair to the plates if we didn’t, would it?”
    “Guess it still beats cleaning them.”
    “You said it.” Hackenthrush raised the autorifle, pointing it at what he could only assume was the hatchway. “All right, let’s go again. And no fancy throw this time—just toss it.”
    “Whatever.” Rikki blindly pawed at the table next to him, patting the tabletop until he found the stack of plates. He picked the top plate off the stack, brought it close to his chest, and began spinning, faster and faster. “Away!” he announced on the fifth spin, releasing the plate and sending it spinning towards the fridge in the back of the mess.
    A split-second later, Hackenthrush squeezed off a shot at the hatchway. The beam lanced out into the corridor – just grazing the top of Junior Officer Loy’s cap as she stepped into the hatchway.
    Loy let out a surprised gasp and slipped into a crouch, throwing her arms over her head.
    Hackenthrush lowered the autorifle and yanked his blindfold down over his