by Tristan Vick
“That’s more like it,” Jegra whispered with a victorious smile curling onto her mouth.
For as much trouble as this bird had been for her from the moment she’d set foot on this barren world, she had decided it could make it all up to her. All it needed to do was get her back to the top of the cliff before Onelle initiated the launch sequence.
Her hands found the elongated crest of the bird’s skull and she jerked its head back. It squawked in protest and ignored her tug as it kept to its holding pattern around the cliff. When she did it again, it seemed to catch the hint and rose up a few meters. Jegra repeated this until they broke the cloud cover that hung just off the cliff’s edge.
Together, they flew up and over the shuttlecraft wedged between its rocky walls and slowly circled overhead. “Thanks for the lift,” Jegra said, scooting up to the edge of the monster’s neck.
As they rose higher and higher into the sky, she gauged her trajectory and waited for the precise moment to jump. Deciding it was now or never, she leapt off, falling away like a skydiver entering a freefall.
The beast, finally free of its burden, flapped frantically away as fast as its leathery wings could carry it, putting as much distance between itself and the savage rider as possible. It squawked loudly and shook its bone plated head as it shrank away into the distance.
Onelle was running through the final launch sequence check when out of the blue a shadow blanketed her console. She looked up in time to see a large object crash onto her windshield. She barely had time to flinch; she screamed and drew back as a stress fracture grew out from the impact point on the glass. Looking up, she saw a series of fracture lines leading back to the foreign object that had struck her windshield. Jegra’s knee.
“Are you insane?!” she screamed when she realized what had happened. “If you break the glass then neither of us will be getting off this rock!”
“Don’t you fucking dare…” Jegra snarled with a flair of her nostrils. She pulled her fist back and smashed the glass. The stress fractures grew a few centimeters more, threatening to crumble under the unrelenting strength of the gladiatrix.
“Stop!” Onelle insisted, throwing up her hands.
“I’ll stop when you let me in.” Jegra’s fist cracked against the glass again. And again the small cobweb-like array of fractures grew outward, inching their way to the furthest ends of the shuttle’s windshield.
In the near distance there was a clap of thunder followed by the crackle of the approaching lightning storm. It would be upon them in a matter of minutes. All Jegra needed to do was keep hammering away at the windshield until it either caved in or until Onelle did, forced to give up and let her in.
Jegra slowly raised her fist, ready to strike again, and held it in the air long enough to gaze at Onelle with wild eyes. She smiled, letting Onelle know she wouldn’t stop till she got her way and brought down her fist with a final, glass shattering force.
“Wait!” Onelle shrieked at the last possible instant and threw up her hands in surrender.
Jegra’s fist stopped a fraction of a centimeter away from the glass and hovered there, every muscle strand in her arm rippling with tension. Glowering at Onelle through the fractured glass, she waited for her response.
“Wait! Just wait a second. I’ll let you in,” she grudgingly said, flipping a switch and popping the hatch on the roof of the ship.
The hiss of the shuttle’s emergency hatch decompressing sounded above her and Jegra looked up to see the square hatch rise up automatically. Looking back down at the woman behind the glass, she slowly rose to her feet and placed both hands on her hips. Although her knuckles were bloodied from smashing them on virtually indestructible glass, she ignored the pain. “That’s better,” she said.
She strolled up to the opening and looked back over her shoulder at the electrical storm. The dark clouds slowly engulfed the ship; flashes of blue light lit up the dark vapor like giant angry blue fireflies. It was finally here.
Not wasting any more time topside, Jegra quickly slipped through the opening and into the ship. She scrambled down the ladder and pulled the hatch closed behind her. Just in time, too, by the sounds of it, she thought. The sound of static discharges crackling and popping as lighting struck the shuttle’s hull could be heard up and down the length of the hull. There was no way they were capable of taking off now. Not in this.
“I can explain,” Onelle squeaked as Jegra stepped onto the bridge. The Bre’lal woman had on a form-fitting white jumpsuit and was cowering in the corner of the cockpit when Jegra arrived. Hands raised defensively, she could barely force herself to make eye contact. “Just hear me out,” she pleaded, stealing a quick glimpse at Jegra to be sure she wasn’t going to attack her.
Hands on her hips, Jegra paused in the center of the bridge and growled, “You have thirty seconds to explain yourself or I punch you in your self-serving little cunt so hard that your future children will be born disabled.”
Onelle Te’Legra Agnar gulped nervously. “The truth is, there’s only enough fuel to get only one of us off this rock. With our combined weight, we’ll never break free of this planet’s gravity.”
“So, your grand idea was to ditch me here and leave me to die? I thought we were becoming friends.”
“Let’s make one thing clear,” Onelle said, straightening up. “You’re the woman who got my baby sister killed. And there’s no forgiving that.”
“I’m not asking you to forgive me,” Jegra sighed out in frustration. She strode up to where Onelle stood, wedged between the seat and the console panel. “I’m just asking you give me a chance.”
When Jegra reached out toward her, she flinched and cried out in a panicked voice, “What are you going to do?”
The wrenching of steel caused her to open her eyes in time to see Jegra rip the co-pilot’s chair right off the floor. The bolts snapped like dry pretzels.
“Exactly what it looks like. I’m going to lighten the load,” she answered. Turning around, Jegra went over to the aft of the ship and opened the main loading platform. A gust of wind crashed into her and she staggered back a step. Regaining her footing, she edged up to the lip and looked out at the black wash of clouds that encircled the entire ship.
With a grunt, she tossed the chair out into the violently swirling air and watched it twirl away as though it were sucked up into a cyclone. A streak of lighting followed after it, trailing it down into the cloud cover and Jegra watched as a subdued glow, like a dim lamp, lit up and then faded again, like a firefly flaring briefly before disappearing back into a shroud of darkness.
The loading bay open behind her, Jegra turned around to face Onelle as blue arcs of electricity danced outside like those inside a plasma globe. Jegra’s smoldering brown eyes locked onto the Bre’lal woman and her brow grew heavy and sank into a scowl.
“Look, I’m leaving with you whether you like it or not. So you can either just stand there doing nothing or you can help me. Your choice.”
Onelle quickly looked around and then found a large crate wedged into a corner. She went over and picked it up, grunting from the unexpected weight of it. Trudging over to the opening, she dropped the crate and watched as its corner nicked the edge of the ship and then spiraled away, spare parts spilling out into the open.
“See, that wasn’t so hard,” Jegra said, drawing close to Onelle’s ear. Onelle pulled back in surprise and gave Jegra a wary look.
“You’re not going to throw me out too, are you?’
“It would serve you right,” she said, drawing even closer, her brow furrowed as she stared disparagingly at the duplicitous woman. Jegra was beginning to understand Onelle’s way of thinking. When it came to revenge, there was no moral high ground. It was a dark and dirty business. And she’d done what she felt had to be done to right a perceived wrong. Only, in Jegra’s estimation, Onelle had blamed the wrong woman for her sister’s murder.
It wasn’t Jegra, after all, who’d killed Abethca. That dishonor fell upon
Ishtar Bantu’s shoulders. Of course, Onelle wasn’t entirely wrong, either. It was Jegra’s actions that had somehow made Abethca obsessed with her. But, how was she supposed to have predicted Abethca’s unhealthy preoccupation with her and what the consequences of that passion would be? That was entirely out of her control, and it was less than fair for Onelle to hold that against her.
Onelle took a step sideways to avoid stepping out of the opening of the ship and then glanced back up at Jegra’s eyes, looking for any sign that she might show mercy.
Jegra’s fist came up and smashed the control panel and the cargo bay doors slowly clamped shut. “Now, what do you say we put the past in the past and focus on working together to get off this rock?”
“We’ll have to wait till the storm passes before we can…” Onelle stopped when she noticed Jegra still inching closer to her, the empress’s arm boxing her into the corner of the rear cargo hold. Her back up against the wall, she stiffened, growing incrementally nervous. “What are you doing?” she asked, her voice wavering with unease.
Practically nose to nose, Onelle had to look away lest their lips unintentionally come together. Or, maybe, it was intentional? Maybe, that’s what made it so exciting. The danger of it. Of being intimate with someone who was inexplicably attractive but, at the same time, undeniably dangerous. How could these feelings even exist? Were they worth exploring, or should she ignore them and exercise caution? It was a tough call. All she knew was that after months of being stranded on this ridiculous planet, a vigorous fuck would do her good.
She tensed up even more when she felt Jegra’s breath pass gently across her right ear. A tingle ran down her spine and she could feel the heat intensify between her already warm thighs.
“I have half a mind to punish you right here and now for your crimes,” Jegra whispered.
Onelle closed her eyes and swallowed. Hard. Without warning, Jegra’s other hand reached up and brushed Onelle’s forest green hair out of her eyes in a sensuous fashion. “Punish me how?” she asked, glancing down as she watched the empresses slide her thick, tanned thigh between her slender green ones. Their bodies came together in the tight space and Jegra leaned in, her massive breasts entrapping Onelle.
Without expecting it, Onelle’s heart began fluttering inside her chest and she felt a yearning ignite deep within her. She’d underestimated Jegra’s resolve, and now the Empress of the Dagon Empire breathed down her neck, contemplating whether to snap it or dapple it with kisses.
Onelle bit her bottom lip and let the empress brush her nose against her cheek. A strange sexual energy; hate mingled with raw attraction, surged between them. If anything were to happen, it would be rough, wet, and painful in all the right sorts of ways.
But, to Onelle’s surprise, Jegra took a deep breath and pulled away. In their excitement, they found themselves staring at each other, both caught off guard by the unexpectedness and depth of their attraction for one another.
The women shared a look of astonishment as they tried to quell the abrupt swell of lustful desire that had, unexpectedly, risen up between them.
“I apologize,” Jegra said, shifting her gaze and taking a step back.
No longer trapped against the wall, Onelle moved to the center of the shuttle and took a deep breath to try and calm her racing heart. “I admit,” she said with a wave of her hand, “I acted rather impetuously. I guess my resentment toward you went deeper than I had realized and I took it out on you in the worst, most selfish way possible. And, having had a moment to reflect on it, I realize that wasn’t fair. I was out of line.”
Unfair was one way of putting it. Jegra much preferred the more accurate terms of arrogant and imprudent. But she didn’t want to get into another row, not after it seemed like she was about to mend things with Onelle.
She looked over at the Bre’lal woman but held her tongue. Even though she was dying to lash out at Onelle for her petty act of selfishness and set her straight, she knew that what Onelle needed the most was resolution for her sister’s death. And biting her head off now with a strict reprimand wouldn’t help ease matters between them, nor would it lift the shuttle from the planet. So, she went with the softer touch, listening to the woman instead.
“I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forget your role in my sister’s death,” she finally said, “but given enough time, perhaps I can learn to forgive you. Regardless of my personal feelings, I shouldn’t have tried to abandon you here on this planet. That was beyond cruel.” She turned toward Jegra and looked her straight in the eyes. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted,” replied Jegra. After a long pause, she added a whimsical, “Just don’t let it happen again.”
Onelle chortled lightly then cleared her throat. “I won’t. I mean…you know…”
Jegra folded her arms and gave the green skinned woman a droll look. “No. I don’t know.”
“You know…” Onelle insisted, cocking her slightly head and biting her bottom lip. She took another small step toward the empress, making sure her swagger had that extra hint of seduction to it.
Jegra shook her head and forced herself to suppress a grin. Onelle took another step forward and batted her baby-blue eyes at Jegra. Her arms locked behind her back, she swiveled her hips and leaned into the empress, letting her breasts gently brush Jegra’s arm.
Jegra grinned as Onelle playfully swayed next to her as though she were about to give her an erotic lap dance.
CRACK! Jegra moved so fast that Onelle didn’t even have time to see it coming. Onelle’s head jerked back from the brunt of Jegra’s headbutt and suddenly everything went dark.
Onelle went out like a light and collapsed to the ground, landing in a heap at the empress’s feet. The stun gun she had been concealing behind her back tumbled out of her hand and skidded across the floor before scraping to a halt next to Jegra’s feet.
A disappointed look settled across Jegra’s face as she bent down and picked up the device. She would have preferred to have been the other way, with her sprawled out on her back with Onelle’s head between her thighs. As nice as the thought was, it wasn’t like she hadn’t seen it coming. Onelle had proved herself to be a compulsive liar and a duplicitous snake. And the moment she’d gone from fearful of Jegra to practically throwing herself at her, Jegra knew something was up.
Jegra hung her head and sighed. “Nice try, bitch,” she said to the unconscious woman. “But you’re dealing with the Empress of the Dagon Empire, not some slave girl who was born yesterday.
”
22
“Evasive maneuvers,” Lianica shouted above the noise of the collision alarm. She leaned forward in her seat and stared out the main viewscreen as the Shard came out of hyperspace only to emerge in the middle of a massive debris field. Taking evasive action, the ship arced and then dipped again, narrowly avoiding a large spiraling section of a derelict cruiser’s hull. The Shard shuddered as another massive piece of debris collided and scraped along its hull. The grating metal sounded as if a giant can opener was busy trying to wrench the hull in two.
The ship corrected course only to suffer a violent jolt that shook the bridge crew and almost sent Lianica tumbling out of her seat. Lurching forward, she gripped tightly to both arms of the command chair with white knuckled tension. As she gazed out the viewscreen in jaw-gaping shock, the wreckage of numerous vessels drifted in the dead of space directly in front of her. It was a ship graveyard.
Another vessel sized piece of flotsam appeared above the Shard’s bow, jostled loose, no doubt, from the pinball like effect of the Shard’s having agitated the dormant debris field. The collision alarm, which had died down briefly, began to wail again and Lianica gripped tight and leaned back as the ship dove down and veered right, its hull rotating counter-clockwise as it narrowly avoided the massive saucer section of an ancient warship that spiraled in a clockwise fashion. NCC17-something-or-other was written in bold navy-blue letters across the top of the saucer, but t
he final letters were too battered and worn off from relentless collisions to make out.
Long after they were clear of the larger pieces, smaller fragments bounced and pinged off the vessel’s hull. It sounded as though they were traveling through a rogue meteor storm. Emerging from the thick of it, the Shard slowly course corrected and came back to its original trajectory.
Pitted with dents and dings, the slender silver teardrop hull of the Shard looked blistered with boils and pock marks. But the liquid-hull technology quickly went to work healing the ship’s surface. Soon enough, there wasn’t a single hint of damage anywhere across the surface of the ship’s hull.
“Structural integrity report,” Lianica barked.
An ensign off to her left swiveled around in his chair and said, “Structural integrity ninety-eight percent and holding.”
“Good,” she replied. “Keep me updated on the damage reports for each deck as they come in.”
The ensign nodded and then turned back around and brought up a cut-away view of the Shard’s eighteen decks and began checking the damage reports for each level.
“What’s a ship graveyard doing way out here?” asked Brei’alas, looking over at Captain Blackstar with a perplexed expression on her face.
“Good question, lieutenant,” Lianica replied. Then, turning toward the crew, she glanced toward a young male Dagon officer of lavender complexion and said, “Ensign Dree’alek, scan for any distress signals or emergency beacons.”
He ran the scan as ordered and then shook his head. “It seems that whatever battle this was, it happened a long time ago, ma’am. It’s dead silent out there.”
“Scan the hull signatures. I want to know who it was that fought out here.”
“That’s odd,” Dree’alek said. The captain shot him an inquisitive look, urging him to come out with it. “They read Galliforn and Dagon in origin.”
“I wasn’t aware that Galliforn and Dagon Prime were ever at war with one another,” Brei’alas said, looking out of the view portal at the debris.