Chapter 18

Mayday

THE TINY SPHERICAL escape capsule reached the top of its trajectory and began an arching dive back towards the rocky ground below. By the time it hit, it was falling fast. The impact crushed its foremost section flat. It bounced twice, spinning wildly, then ploughed across the planet’s dusty surface and came to a groaning standstill.

Inside the battered capsule, the Chairman took several minutes to regain his sense of which way was up, which way down. The landing had shaken him about like a dried pea in a rattle. He was bruised and breathless – but alive.

The Chairman had always been blessed with remarkably good luck. Today was no exception. Had he selected any one of the executive shuttle’s other five escape capsules, he would almost certainly have been fired straight into the hangar’s solid wall or floor. As it was, his tiny capsule had shot upwards, rocketing through the large rift that the Mshanga had made in the hangar roof.

When the capsule’s systems had sensed its rapid descent, its tiny thrusters had fired bravely. But they were designed only to gently guide a free-floating space vehicle – not defy the pull of gravity. A crash-landing had been inevitable.

As his brain began to function properly again, the Chairman scanned the capsule’s interior, and tried to decide on his next step. The exit hatch was quite clearly crushed beyond a hope of opening. So he was trapped inside.

Then he must call for help.

There was a small comlink handset clipped to the armrest of his seat. He snatched it and raised it to his mouth.

‘Mayday, Mayday, this is an emergency.’

The Chairman depressed the comlink’s main switch as he spoke, hoping this was the right thing to do. He wasn’t used to having to work things for himself.

‘Can anyone hear me? I repeat, this is an emergency.’

He released the switch and waited. Nothing happened.

Sweat beading on his pale forehead, the Chairman tried again.

‘Mayday, Mayday. I am in need of urgent assistance. Please respond.’

This time, after a few seconds’ delay, a faint voice came crackling from the handset’s transducer.

‘Distress call received loud and clear. This is the trade ship Fatfox. I hear you, friend. We have a location fix. Please identify yourself.’

The Chairman blew out his cheeks in relief, then squeezed the comlink again.

‘Come and get me immediately.’

There was another short pause. Then the Fatfox’s answer came back.

‘I repeat, please identify. Who am I speaking to?’

The Chairman was losing his patience. He squeezed the switch irritably.

‘Don’t you recognize my voice, you imbecile? This is the Chairman speaking, leader of the Perfect World.’

The pause this time was significantly longer. Then . . .

‘Very funny, wise guy,’ crackled the stranger’s voice. ‘And I’m Queen Tallulah of Neptune. Did you know that misuse of the Mayday distress call is a galactic offence? I suggest you try some other prank next time.’

The comlink went dead. Despite several attempts to raise the Fatfox again, the Chairman could get no response.

In a surge of temper, he flung the handset against the wall. It rattled around the tiny spherical escape pod, before coming to rest somewhere underneath his seat.

This would never have happened if it wasn’t for those infuriating Armouron! thought the Chairman bitterly. His hatred for his old adversaries was growing with his rising sense of panic. Wait till I get out of this mess. I’ll make those armoured fools wish their precious order had never been formed!