Not as Cute as Everybody Supposes
Winter seemed reluctant to release its hold. But then First Officer Stamper gave the panel under the engineering station on the bridge a good swift kick, and immediately the tractor beam broke off. The asteroid dropped neatly away into space. “She’s away, ma’am,” Mr. Stamper reported.
“Good show,” Captain K’pid said, rubbing at her third eye tiredly. “Right, signal the planet, tell them they don’t have to worry about being splatted anymore, then get us out of here.”
“Aye aye,” said Mr. Stamper. Within moments the starship’s thrusters were powering up, and it was gliding away out of the system. K’pid could just distantly hear its padamantium-powered core humming in the background. She very much liked Winter over the past vessels she had captained. Why, this ship even had bathrooms! Her prior ships had a curious lack of facilities, resulting in hasty modifications and a few terribly awkward moments. Winter had them on every deck. She even had her own private one.
“Where to now, captain?” Mr. Stamper asked.
K’pid was tempted to just tell him “over there, somewhere”, but she was too professional for that. Space was really big, after all, and you couldn’t just go charging off into the black without knowing where you were. “Xena Four,” she said after a moment’s thought. “We can ask Milty in the spaceport, see if he has some deliveries for us.”
Mr. Stamper saluted, and gave the necessary orders. Winter jumped away into hyperspace. When it jumped out again, K’pid expected to see Xena Four sprawling across her viewscreen. She was naturally confused when all she saw was a field of black. “Where’s the planet, Mr. Stamper?”
“Sensors aren’t registering anything,” Mr. Stamper reported. “We’re at the right coordinates. The planet’s not, though.”
K’pid reflected on something a friend had once told her. “Mr. Stamper, you can’t just lose a whole planet-”
At that moment the ship’s alarms went off louder than a nursery of squalling babies. A white symbol, flecked with pink, appeared on the viewscreen. K’pid froze. “Bunnies.”
Even Mr. Stamper appeared shaken. He raced to the ship’s tactical station to confirm. (Ordinarily the tactical officer, a very capable lieutenant from Verin Prime, would’ve done this, but he was in the restroom at the moment). “It’s confirmed,” Mr. Stamper called over the wailing alarms. “Bunnies detected. A whole swarm of them. Next planet over. And….I’m picking up a life sign! Chromai. Magenta, or mauve, maybe.”
That settled it. K’pid’s first instinct had been to run. She knew better than anyone about bunnies. But her second instinct kicked in when she heard about the life sign. She had Chromai friends, lots of them. She couldn’t just abandon one to the bunnies.
“Full speed ahead, Mr. Stamper!” she cried. “Arm all weapons!”
“Aye, captain!”
“Ah, out of curiosity, what weapons do we have?”
Mr. Stamper checked. “The usual. Proton cannon beams, torpedos….oh, this is new. Just installed from Fleet. Apparently it’s called a Buffered Fission Generator. Not sure why.”
“And what does the, er, BFG do?”
“Not sure. There’s no instructions. Just a very large red button.”
K’pid sighed. She had hoped, when she’d learned about Winter’s restrooms, that the ship’s designers had decided to forgo the usual clichés. Apparently they just couldn’t resist. She knew she shouldn’t order Mr. Stamper to push the big red button. Everyone knew big red buttons should never ever be pressed under any circumstances. But….the bunnies.
The ship came out of hyperspace right above Xena Four. The bunnies rampaged below them. “Mr. Stamper,” K’pid said, trying valiantly to keep her voice calm in the face of such horror, “fire the Buffered Fission Generator.”
“Shouldn’t we teleport the Chromai out first?”
“Good point. Do that.”
Agonizing seconds ticked by as the teleporters strained to lock on to the life sign. It was tough going, trying to teleport a shade of color. Then a message flashed across Mr. Stamper’s tactical screen. “Got it. Cargo Three.”
K’pid breathed a sigh of relief. She wondered now whether the BFG was necessary. After all, surely the bunnies couldn’t fly. Everyone knew they couldn’t fly. She was safe now. She had to be.
Then her viewscreen lit up anew. K’pid’s third eye blinked. The bunnies were rising. Slowly, inexorably, chanting something horrible in their bunny language, the snarling horde floated up from the grassy fields of the planet. They were aiming straight for Winter.
“Mr. Stamper, fire the BFG,” K’pid said. “Fire everything. Fire everything!”
This story was written for the Speakeasy prompt 157; it’s also part of Hadley’s Story. Thanks for reading!
