Space Captain Smith Read Online Free PDF

ships and their crews. One of the arms of the starfish was reserved for repairs, and the ships there were dotted with white specs that were space-suited men.
    ‘There’s a Morlock ship there, Suruk,’ Smith said. The alien peered through the windscreen. ‘Indeed. No doubt they are readying themselves for battle and warfare further on. I see no other reason why they would want to linger at this cowardly place, unless they are currently sacking it.’
    The M’Lak ship was red, shaped like a huge cone with an engine at the rear. There was a screw thread running around the cone. As tended to be the case with Suruk’s people, they had adapted human technology to fit their way of war: the cone was for ramming, the screw thread designed to help it tear deep into the guts of an enemy vessel. The nose of the ship would then drop off, allowing a horde of fighters to spill out and engage the crew in a boarding action before returning to their own craft, usually with a selection of heads in a bag.
    ‘I look forward to speaking with them,’ Suruk said. The muzak stopped. ‘Hi there! This is New Fran traffic control,’ a woman’s voice announced. She had the gentle American accent characteristic of the Franese. ‘I’m 39 Summer, and I’ll be your traffic controller today. Is that the John Pym I’m talking to?’
    ‘Certainly is,’ said Smith. ‘We seek permission to dock, please.’
    ‘Permission is granted. Your personal computer reference is being fed to your ship right now. Your ship will lock with our central computer and begin autodocking. Please stand by at the controls in the event of manual correction being necessary.’
    ‘Do you have a gift shop?’
    ‘We do indeed. You’ll find shopping facilities in the central hub, above the residential drum. We would remind you that although marijuana is legal on New Fran, hassling people isn’t, so take your fascist attitude problem somewhere else, okay? All major currency is accepted apart from M’Lak barter-trophies.’
    ‘Thanks.’
    ‘No problem. You have a good time, now, John Pym.’
    ‘I’ll try,’ Smith began, but the radio was silent. He glanced at the pilot. ‘Carveth? Engage the docking computer.’
    ‘Docking computer engaged.’
    ‘Bring us in, Miss Carveth.’
    ‘Us brung in.’
    The ship yawed slowly, and as New Fran came closer Smith saw the happy pictures painted onto its iron-grey sides. Lights flashed above a connecting tube on which were painted the words ‘Peace – friendship – understanding’. This was going to be a tough place to stomach. Carveth took the crew roster down from the wall and tested a biro on the back of it. ‘Right then, who wants what at Duty Free?’
    They closed the ship door behind them and trooped down the connecting walkway in a group. ‘I hope Gerald is alright in there,’ Carveth said.
    ‘The beast is well,’ Suruk replied. Despite Smith’s requests, he carried four knives in his belt and his sacred spear. ‘It grows plump.’
    ‘Captain, tell him he can’t eat my hamster.’
    ‘Crew, stop eating one another,’ Smith said, not really listening. ‘Now, I believe this fellow is coming to talk to us.’
    A man waited at the end of the passage. He was short, in an open-necked, collarless shirt, with a neat little beard and curly blond hair long enough for Smith to regard him with suspicion.
    ‘Hey there,’ he announced. ‘You must be Captain Smith, right?’
    ‘That’s right.’
    ‘It’s a pleasure, sir. My name is Chad. On behalf of the Free State of New Fran, I’d like to welcome you to the Free State of New Francisco.’ He frowned, aware that he had got his standard greeting wrong, and said, ‘Well, hi. If you’d come with me…’
    The corridor opened out into a massive hall. Light, shapeless music wafted from speakers mounted in the roof. A frieze ran around the walls, showing children of the nations and species of the galaxy holding hands or, where appropriate, tentacles and claws.