James Wittenbach - Worlds Apart 03

by Bodicea

  “One of the micro-drones caught this scene, three years ago, at the Aurelian Sub-Center for the Southern continent.,” the technician at the console explained. He was a Bodicéan male, and his voice was quaking as he watched.

  Presently a pair of young girls, Keeler guessed they were just on the left side of pubescence, were brought in by human servants. They were naked and unselfconscious. The Aurelians hugged then, stroked their hair, and fondled the buds of their breasts and private parts.

  “I’ve seen enough,” Keeler said.

  “Nay,” said Tamarind, “You haven’t.”

  For several minutes, the large, adult Aurelians continued to molest the young girls. All four seemed to be enjoying themselves, becoming ever more flushed and aroused. Then, the Aurelians reached down and picked up what at first, Keeler thought were bracelets, or shackles of some kind. They wrapped them each around one wrist.

  The shot zoomed in, and Keeler could see small, spider-like legs on the bottom of the wristlets seemingly dig into the Aurelians wrists. He also saw a long needle emerging from the top.

  The Aurelians bent the girls over, onto their laps, and then plunged the stiletto into the backs of their skulls. The girls bodies jerked up briefly, and their arms spasmed. It was all-too-brief. They were dead.

  The Aurelians withdrew the needles and collapsed as though spent. Some human servants entered and removed the bodies of the young girls. The two Aurelians lay back on their chaises and began rubbing each other lasciviously.

  “End.” Tamarind ordered.

  “What the hell was that?” Keeler demanded.

  Tamarind shook his head. “We don’t know why they do it either. We have deduced that they extract pituitary, pineal and other fluids from the brains of children, but we do not understand why. However, it is something which all of the Echelon Aurelians engage in, which suggests that it is necessary to sustain their survival.”

  “We have got to stop these people,” Keeler said. “What do you need? Whatever we can spare is at your disposal.”

  “Weapons, of course, medical supplies… some landing gear would go far, but we’re otherwise pretty well set up.”

  He leaned in and spoke quietly to Keeler. “The Aurelians are stripping the planet, aren’t they?”

  “They’re building one of their world-ships in orbit… and what looks like another invasion fleet.”

  “For the next world. When they finish, they’ll take a chosen elite from the planet, strip everything worth taking from it, and leave it an empty husk… or worse.”

  “The pathogen.”

  “Aye,” said Tamarind darkly. “The Pathogen.”

  “We’ve found an off-switch,” Keeler explained briefly what Specialist Mastermind had explained to him, about genetic markers and protein sequences.

  “Perhaps some and/oroids to supplement our scientists would help us find a better way to eradicate it. It doesn’t matter really. They’re locusts, you know. They’ll keep going until they’ve laid waste to every human world.”

  “Do you know where they will go next?” Keeler asked.

  Tamarind half smiled. “To the nearest human colony. Of course, they don’t know where that is. We have preserved knowledge of the Commonwealth. They do not. They will send out scout ships until they find another ripe human colony.”

  “We could spare you some Aves, some Shrieks.”

  “We will use the Shrieks. The Aves… we do not need. Joppler, bring up a feed from Redoubt 9.”

  The young Bodicéan at the console pulled up the view of what looked like a remote desert location. Hidden under camouflage nets were eight strange looking spacecraft.

  “Aurelian transports,” Tamarind explained. “I have discussed with Lieutenant Commander Miller one of our other requirements.”

  Miller leaned and spoke into the commander’s ear. “Twenty Nemesis warheads.” Keeler’s eyes widened. “Twenty?”

  Tamarind nodded serenely, “Aye.”

  “And which twenty planets are you proposing to blowup with them?”

  “The warheads are necessary to ensure our survival. Hopefully, they will never need to be used.”

  “Hopefully? … So, let’s see if I have this right. You want me to turn over twenty of the most destructive weapons humanity has ever devised into your personal custody, and trust you to…” he looked into Tamarind the Sumacian’s eyes and sighed. “You’ve already decided that I am going to, so I might as well say okay now and save you the trouble of altering history.”

  Tamarind smiled. “Before long, Aurelian Intelligence will capture one of our outposts. Our people will fight until there are none left standing to guard it. There, they will find irrefutable proof that the Defiance possesses twenty Nemesis warheads, secreted throughout the system in stealth mode. They will also realize that if they ever attempt to wipe out all life from Bodicéa, the Defiance will destroy the World-Ship. This way, the Defiance and the Aurelians each have a gun to the other’s head. It is an ancient military strategy known as Mutually Assured Destruction. A crude, brutal, and primitive strategic policy, but highly effective.”

  “It will give Ex-Commander Lear fits,” Miller added.

  “Why didn’t you say so in the first place,” Keeler came back. “Authorize whoever it is who does those kind of things …”

  “That would be me,” said Miller.

  “All right, then, you… go ahead and give him twenty Big Dam missiles in hide-and-seek mode.”

  “Thank you, Commander.” He paused. “Years … perhaps centuries, from now, when our children contemplate where the defeat of Aurelia began, they will know it began here, on Bodicéa , with we three, here.”

  Keeler could not envision defeating the Aurelians, could not even imagine fighting them, at this point, did not want to undermine

  Miller leaned in to Tamarind. “I have something else I’d like to try. Perhaps later, we can discuss it. Sort of a… guiding light to inspire your people.” They gathered in the glade, those of our crew who were going back to the ship. Jones was not the only with children. Erick Martian had also sired a child, and would be taking his wife, a former Aurelian slave-girl, to Pegasus with us. I bet the Centurions will be keeping a close watch on her.

  They were climbing on board, saying their good-byes. Flight Captain Jones was discussing the matter of Basil with Tactical Lieutenant Alkema. “It’s a hopeless wreck.”

  “Not really,” Alkema answered. “Life support and hull integrity are hopeless, however, a couple spare fuel cells and some navigation modules from Zilla and Edward and she should make it back to Pegasus. It will be a long flight, and nobody will be able to stay on-board, maybe an and/oroid, but otherwise, all auto, but the ship can make it. Once she’s there, well, repair core has had a lot of practice fixing broken Aves, lately. She will be spaceworthy again.”

  Jones nodded. “Do it, it would mean a lot to me.” As she finished, Sam and Max approached, each carrying a very small pack of belongings from Basil. “Are you guys ready?” their mother asked.

  They stared dubiously at the Aves Zilla.

  Jones continued. “We’re going back in Commander Keeler’s ship. He’s going to take us away from here.”

  A look of pure terror crossed young Sam’s face. “Where will he take us?”

  “To the big starship I told you about it.”

  “We can’t go in his ship. The Aurelians will shoot us down.” Jones brushed his hair. “We’ll be perfectly safe. Keeler knows how to hide his ship, so, the Aurelians will never see it.”

  Sam shook his head, tears welled up in his eyes. “No, No, No, the Aurelians will shoot us down. They’ll capture us and do terrible things. I won’t go with you. I want to stay here.” Jones knelt on the ground and held him close as he began sobbing, whispering to him.

  “Commander Keeler is going to take us far, far away… where the Aurelians will never find us.

  Never, ever, ever.”

  “What about Pater?”

  “He i
s going to stay and fight the Aurelians.”

  “We should stay, too,” said Max, trying to sound brave. Jones could sense, though, that what he really wanted to hear is “Neg.”

  “We’re going to Pegasus, ” she said, in a strong, motherly voice similar to her command voice, but different. “Now, get on-board. I’ll be with you in a few minutes. I have to talk to someone.”

  She saw her boys to the access ramp, than walked over to Lt. Commander Miller, who stood apart from the others, pretending to inventory the medical supplies and plasma grenades Keeler had brought with him. He would not return on Zilla or Edward, but await another Aves which was now en route with pulse cannons, communications gear, extra Shrieks, personal shields, and other things Tamarind had requested, and a very special warhead he planned to use.

  “I am returning to Pegasus,” Jones reported.

  “What about Tobias?” he asked, without turning to face her.

  “Tobias is going to stay here and fight for his world.”

  “What about Sam and Max?”

  “They are coming with me.”

  Miller stood up, still facing away from her. “They’ll grow up without a father.”

  “They will grow up in freedom. That’s more important, Tobias wants the best future for his sons, as any good father would, and that future is on Pegasus. ” She put a hand on his shoulder. “Tobias thinks you would make an excellent surrogate father.” He turned, angrily. “What about you? Do you require a surrogate husband, or did you have one already?”

  She matched his intensity. “Phil, put aside your self-centered macho beastshit for just one phucking second and think about Sam and Max for a second. Just think for one minute about all the trauma they’ve been through… shot at, starved, captured… and now losing their father? Divorce me, if you want. Hang me out to dry, it doesn’t matter. I don’t care, but just getting those boys to normal is going to be a lot of work. I can do it better with you than without you.”

  Miller didn’t answer her, his features twitched, then he stalked off into the brush. Jones, walking away as though this had not affected her approached the Commander and Alkema.

  “All aboard?” Keeler asked.

  “One more,” Jones told him. “She was on deep patrol when you landed. Here she comes.” Tobias came into the glade, accompanied by a striking, raven haired women in jungle camouflage with fulsome hips and ripe round breasts. With a pulse rifle slung over her shoulder, she looked like the cover illustration from an Arcadian warrior princess fictive that had eased a much younger Commander Keeler into the onset of puberty.

  “Oing,” said Keeler. In his college days, “Oing!” had been a way of acknowledging the presence of a very attractive female. Translated roughly, it meant, “We are now the presence of a woman so well-made I am rendered incoherent.”

  “Pieta?” Alkema said, as though the wind were knocked from him.

  “Tactical Lieutenant Alkema,” she said. “You are just as I remembered you … and you returned, as Tamarind promised.”

  Two months ago, she had been a little girl, now she was a woman, the kind of woman you see in dreams you don’t want to wake up from.

  “Oing,” said Alkema.

  Tobias looked at Alkema with deep, piercing, all-demanding eyes. “You will take care of my daughter, won’t you?”

  Alkema considered this. If his math was right, Pieta was technically older than he was. “I

  … will, sir.”

  “She knows six ways to kill a man with her bare hands,” Tobias added.

  “That’s two less than most of the other women on the ship,” Alkema told him.

  “I will be living in Mother Jones quarters,” Pieta said. “Then, I will find a place of my own, and then, perhaps…” She gave Alkema a small wink and a smile.

  Alkema stood there, struck dumb by the conflict between the parts of him that was saying she’s beautiful, she’s fully grown, and she still likes you, and the part that picture her two months ago as a little girl with cake crumbs around her mouth.

  “I’ll show you to your seat,” he said, and she smiled. When she did, he thought he just might be able to get used to the idea of being with an older woman who used to be a younger girl.

  Apparently content, Tobias handed Keeler a pair of datapads. “Take these. They are encoded in the secret language of Sumac. They contain everything we have learned in the past sixteen years about the Aurelians. Transmit their contents to Sapphire. The Order will know what to do.”

  “I guess this is farewell,” Keeler said.

  “You guess correctly,” Tobias answered.

  “What do I win?” the Commander came back with. Tobias looked at him curiously.

  “If you guys are going to win this war,” Keeler told him. “You’re going to have to lighten up.”

  “I am fighting for the rights of all the men on this planet, for dignity, for freedom, for the right to make their own choices. I will not ever ‘lighten up’ until the Aurelians are gone and the Matriarchy is overthrown.”

  Keeler paused before mounting the ramp. “Look, mate, suppose you succeed in driving out the Aurelians, and you also achieve your goal of equality. What then?”

  “Then, I’ll be content.”

  “Wrong! You’ll become so obsessed, so fixated, on the struggle itself that you won’t even recognize it when you win. The struggle will become so much a part of your mindset that you’ll never be able to leave it behind. You’ll keep pushing for more and more victories, until your side becomes just as oppressive as the Aurelians or the Matriarchy.” Tobias blinked at him uncomprehendingly.

  Keeler sighed. “Look, I was a professor of history once, and history shows us that every revolution… eventually and invariably … becomes as oppressive as the system it was intended to overthrow. Sapphire is a happy little planet because we broke the cycle and came up with a better way. So, you have a choice to make, become a bitter, angry soldier in a battle that will never end to your satisfaction, or get some perspective and lighten up a little bit.” Tobias mulled this as Zilla lifted, fading to invisibility as she rose, then shot into the sky.

  Pegasus did not linger long in the 10 255 Vulpeculus system. We set up a few automated listening posts to spy on the Aurelians, unloaded several hundred tons of armaments, and took care of other matters.

  Matt Driver stood in the Squadron Room of the Quicksilver Angels, the rest of the Flight Group stood there also, in dress uniform, as Executive Commander Lear read a prepared statement.

  “Flight Lieutenant Matthew Driver, in acknowledgement of your conspicuous heroism at 10 255 Vulpeculus Five, you are hereby awarded the Highest Honor of the Republic Space Command, the White Star-Cross.” Executive Commander Lear herself attached the pendant to Driver’s Formal Uniform. He grinned, blushed, and thanked her.

  The Flight Group was still cheering him when Commander Keeler took the podium and said, “The Planet Sapphire also would like to acknowledge your heroism.”

  Driver and the rest of the group hushed. No one in history had ever been honored with military awards from both worlds. Lt. Alkema approached bearing a platinum and gold medallion attached to a yellow, red, and black ribbon. On the face of the medal was the outline of an animal, canine in appearance, head and haunches down, hindquarters high.

  “The Medal of Canis Major, first forged in honor of the Victory at 67 Canis Major in the Third Crusade, reserved for warriors demonstrating extreme resourcefulness in battle. Your quick-thinking saved your ship and all aboard her, and by destroying the Aurelian warhead before it could detonate against Pegasus’s stern, you may have saved countless others.”

  “Uh,” Matthew said, “It was my ship that originally drew the warhead to Pegasus in the first place.”

  Keeler waved him off. “A mere technicality. The point is, you saved the ship, and you are hereby entered into the Ancient Order of the puking dogs; the first Republicker ever so honored.”

  “Thank you, commander. I don’t know what
to say.”

  “Save it for the hazing,” Keeler muttered. Before he could go on to make a pithy remark about scrotum shaving, the Flight Group was cheering again.

  Keeler turned to them. “Shut up, I’m not finished yet.” The pilots fell awkwardly silent. “As you are all aware, Flight Captain Jones has resigned as Flight Captain of the Burning Skies. She has nominated Flight Lieutenant Driver as her replacement. Do you accept, Flight Lieutenant Driver?”

  This took Matthew by surprise. “Aye. I accept.”

  Lear nodded. “Thank you, Captain, and Congratulations.”

  “Za, congratulations,” the Commander said. “Now, you flyboys have a reputation for being a hard-drinking lot. So, bring it on. Underneath this Commander’s dress uniform, I’m buck naked!!”

  All in all, I think we learned a lot on the planet Bodicéa. I think we learned that Executive Commander Lear will suck up to any civilization no matter how screwed up it is. I think we learned that big, well-armed ships can beat the discharge out of us, and we learned that the Sumacians, apart from being a bunch of mystical jerks who like to play solder, are really…

  My journal entry was interrupted by Lt. Commander Miller. “Hoy, Kitty Cat.”

  “Hoy,” I answered him. “What brings you to my hidey-hole?” At the time, I was on Deck Six, near the rear spar of the ship. Hardly anyone goes there, it’s right above the aft heat-exchangers, which makes it perfect for those of us inclined to warm, dark, enclosed spaces.

  “I need to boost the gain on the aft telemetry receivers. I’m losing signal on one of the probes we left behind, and I really need to … check on something before we go.”

  “Knock yourself out,” I told him, blanking my input screen with a wave of my paw.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  It was none of his damb business. Nothing a cat does is anyone else’s damb business unless the cat says it is. What kind of idiot was he? I chose to deflect his insolent inquiry with a question of my own.

  “So, what are you going to do about those two young of yours,” I asked him.