Sex, the Stars & Princess Simla

by Sally Hollister

  “Good job, Shap,” she whispered.

  “Programmed response, mistress,” the mechanical killer replied, “Threat removed.”

  “I’m going to find the bridge of this ship now, Shap, and I’m sure we’ll encounter more resistance. Please be alert.”

  “No threat within fifty metres, mistress. Please indicate direction and I will precede you.”

  That baffled her as she had no idea of which direction their bridge, if they had one, would lie. Shap seemed to sense her problem and turned on his scanners.

  “Information from their sensors flows in that direction,” he said, pointing to the right, “which would indicate that their central command area lies there.”

  “Seems reasonable, lead on.”

  They walked for what seemed like hours through mostly empty corridors. They encountered the occasional Riaz who normally charged at them with murderous intent. Shap made short work of these heroes. A few, less brave, attempted a hasty retreat when encountering the human and her guardian, but Shap loped after them and despatched them with ease.

  ‘Looks like we did catch them by surprise,’ Simla thought, ‘or maybe they just can’t come to terms with the fact that their ship’s been boarded by only two invaders.’

  The bridge, when they reached it, was comparatively small for a ship of such enormous dimensions. One sole Riaz, in a brightly coloured uniform of some plastic material, sat in a high chair before a single monitor screen which showed butchered Riaz lying in the corridors. He turned to face them as they entered but made no other hostile move.

  “You have killed my crew all,” he said, his tusks quivering.

  “All?” Simla asked. Shap had tackled only a few dozen. The Riaz captain seemed to understand her disquiet. “Crew only. Ship for carry army. No army on raid.”

  “You destroyed our fleet.”

  “We are Riaz.”

  “You are scum.”

  “We are Riaz,” and he boomed it out proudly this time.

  “You are my prisoner. Submit or my android will kill you. You will take this ship to Old Earth and surrender it there.”

  “Prisoner? Surrender? These are not words of Riaz. I kill.” He pulled a weapon from somewhere and Shap leapt at him, grabbing his wrists and thrusting them upwards. The gun went flying and the alien tried to match Shap for sheer strength He was big, but no match for Shap’s mechanical power. He slowly forced the alien to his knees and then brought a knee up between the protruding tusks, into the Riaz’s chin, and snapped his neck.

  Simla walked hesitantly over to him, as Shap knelt down and confirmed that he was dead.

  “I gave you the option, you murderous fucker?” Simla spat out. She looked at the controls of the alien ship and realised that they meant absolutely nothing to her.

  “Shap, can you contact Elfi?”

  “Affirmative.”

  “Tell her to come on over, I’ll put a pot of coffee on.”

  When the Doctor joined them she was at as much of a loss as the Princess. “Given time, instruments, I could work this out, but I just don’t have the equipment here.”

  “I want to get this death ship back to Old Earth.”

  “Pendor’s still closer.”

  “Could the Bullet tow her?” Simla asked.

  “She’s a speedster, not a tug.”

  “Oh well, let’s get back over to her so I can call my beloved.”

  “Oh God, she captures an alien warship just so she’s got a reason to phone her lover boy.”

  They giggled their way back to the Bullet where Elfi made the connection to Pendor and Yaf.

  “Yaf,” Simla said sweetly, “Can you send Captain Thrane and the Robin out to get us?”

  “I knew Elfi’s little toy starship would break down. Give me your position.”

  “Uh, it’s not the Bullet that needs towing and could you ask the Captain to bring very heavy duty cables. Very, very heavy duty cables, those hawser things.”

  Yaf looked puzzled. “What kind of trouble have you got yourself into?”

  Simla dropped her eyes in mock shame. “We’ve got a big, huge Riaz warship and no way to get it back to you.”

  Yaf looked closely at her “What? Have you and that crazy doctor been drinking?”

  But Simla flashed up pictures of the warship and piles of dead Riaz and Yaf’s voice trailed away. Finally he came back to her. “My God, you said you’d avenge Halven and you have.”

  “Well, Shap did it really,” Simla said proudly.

  Elfi, at her shoulder, pushed herself into the picture. “She’s insane. Spacewalked across to the Riaz ship and just walked in.”

  A slideshow of emotions played over Yaf’s face. “A victory!”

  “Because we caught them off-guard,” Simla explained, almost apologetically.

  “That doesn’t matter for now. It tells our people that those scum are not invincible and that we’re not all doomed. I’m proud of you, my Princess.”

  “So you’ll send the Robin? We’ve captured this damn thing and we don’t know how to drive it.”

  “I don’t know if Captain Thrane will appreciate you expecting tug-boat duties of his fine ship. I may have to accompany him to make sure he obeys orders.”

  Simla warmed with pleasure and then slumped as she realised that, though seeing Yaf would be good, it wasn’t really all she wanted.

  X

  Through the course of human history conquerors have returned to their homes in triumph to be garlanded and feted for their great achievements. The sight of Elfi’s tiny Bullet, leading the Robin which was towing the gigantic Riaz warship was beamed into every holo tank across the Twelve Worlds and viewed by billions. Not one of them did not know about the brave Princess Simla and her unstoppable android, Shap, who had walked across space and taken an alien warship all by themselves. Of course, the tale became embroidered. They had crossed under heavy fire. The numbers Shap had killed climbed to thousands. Simla had taken a weapon from the fallen and blazed her way to the bridge. Accordingly, millions of little girls were being named Simla, their parents not knowing that it was merely the name of an Indian hill town where the Great Father and Simla’s mother had spent their honeymoon.

  For Simla herself, it was unreal. She was used to accolades, knowing they were undeserved and only given because of her position, but now the enormity of what she had done slowly began dawning on her. What if the ship had opened fire on them? What if there had been thousands of troops aboard? What if? What if? And word came from Jaip that a holo movie of her insane escapade was already in production. Simla smiled when told that Doona Peelaw, who was about half her size, was to play her, and Elfi flew into a rage when informed that aging character actress Miys Tobol was to take her part because scientists were expected to be old and frumpy. Duke Torzil of Serdan appeared proudly on the holo news and told with a strange dignity of how his arm had been broken by Shap.

  The Riaz ship and its occupants were, of course, the subjects of intense speculation. Elfi complained that there just wasn’t enough computing power on Pendor to do the in-depth investigation she needed, but after the Pendoran military had swept the vast ship and pronounced it clean the news media moved in and audiences thrilled at the sight of alien technologies and purple-blooded corpses. These were swiftly gathered up and shipped to laboratories for post-mortem investigation and information about these strange creatures began seeping out. They did indeed have anatomical similarities to Earth’s insects and reptiles, though originating from a very different gene pool. Their brain capacity was not much greater than the average human, though their strength, in proportion to their size, was considerable. No human being could envisage tackling one of these creatures in hand-to-hand combat and hope to survive.

  But with her limited facilities, and champing at the bit to get the ship back to Old Earth, Elfi managed to access the ship’s computer and downloaded huge amounts of information on Riaz culture and technology. They were indeed a species dominated by females; th
ey had never encountered another intelligent species; primitive species they had met had been enslaved; they regarded humans as merely another of these and their technology as feeble and unimportant; the ship had carried only a small crew and not an invasion force because the raid had been designed only to cripple human defensive capability. A full scale invasion was planned. All human inhabited planets would be invaded and the occupants enslaved. Resistance would be crushed mercilessly. Humans who could provide some service to the Riaz would be allowed to live. All others would be starved to death. All resources would be channelled back to the Riaz homeworld. Eventually, according to Riaz thinking, humanity would disappear and Riaz colonies would be established on the Twelve Worlds.

  It was an appalling indictment of their intentions and stiffened human resolve, already raised by Simla’s daring exploit. One thing became abundantly clear, humans could not be expected to face the Riaz in combat and expected to triumph. Only creatures such as Shap could, and now the Riaz were aware of him, as his assault had seemingly been transmitted back to Riaz as it happened. There would be no more spacewalks across to a Riaz warship and a relatively easy victory.

  “We need more Shaps,” Simla insisted, “he’s the key.”

  “I’m trying,” Elfi answered, “but after what they’ve experienced I don’t think the Riaz are going to be too keen about facing an army of his kind in battle. They’ll probably want to stand off our planets and bombard them from space. For that we need ships.”

  Elfi took the machine’s killing hands and stroked them. “But their military culture is based on hand-to-hand combat. Their honour depends on it, that’s why they’ve got those huge ships, to transport armies.”

  “Yeah, but they’re not stupid, if they want the Twelve Worlds they know the only way they can take them is by attacking from space. I think their tradition will give way to reality.”

  “Maybe, but troop carriers don’t carry the weaponry for that kind of assault.”

  “Exactly. We’ve bought ourselves some time, that’s all. While we’re working out a way to build thousands of Shaps, they’re probably concentrating on battleships. So we need to build planetary defences as well as more Shaps.”

  “Any word on getting back to Old Earth?”

  “I’ve figured out their propulsion, but I’m still struggling with their navigation systems. They have a totally different view of the universe. They still work from the assumption that their homeworld is the centre of everything.”

  “But that should be easy to translate.”

  “Oh yes, but it still takes a lot of number crunching. Another few days should see it done. Your ego crying out for another triumph when we reach Old Earth?”

  “Hardly, I’m actually very embarrassed by the whole thing. Shap did all the work, I was just a passenger.”

  “Little sister, the fact that you went on that mission is why you’re getting hero status, not because you killed hundreds of Riaz with your bare hands. Most people aren’t that crazy.”

  “God, don’t I know it. I can’t believe it myself. I must have had a rush of blood to the head. And you didn’t stop me!”

  “I couldn’t, you had Shap to back you up.”

  Simla stared wistfully up at the sky through the laboratory window. “When we head off to Old Earth I’ll have to leave Yaf again.”

  Elfi came up and slipped an arm around her friend’s waist. “You’re not having much fun with him just now, so why worry?”

  “Because you won’t mend Shap! If he was fixed I’d be all over Yaf like a rash. As it is I break out in a cold sweat just giving him a kiss, and I don’t mean a full-blown one, just a peck.”

  “I have been working on it, honey. The problem lies with the strength of programming your father insisted I put into Shap’s head. The Great Father wanted you protected at all costs and have Shap there as a chaperone in case anybody made advances on your precious hide, but Shap’s somehow managed to get them all mixed up.”

  “It’s not good enough. What happens if you can’t fix Shap? Am I destined to die an old maid?”

  “I shall dedicate every fuck I have to you, you can screw by proxy.”

  “I don’t want to screw by proxy, I want to be screwed by cock. Yaf’s preferably.”

  “Have a thrilldo made in the shape of his dick, that might keep you going.”

  “You are such a cheap slut, Elfi,” Simla replied, turning and hugging her smaller companion, “but I suppose that’s why I love ya. Now, where can I get a customised thrilldo made on Pendor?”

  As things worked out she never got a chance to get Yaf’s measurements because Elfi managed to crack her navigation problem and they were ready to return home by the next day. A muster crew was assembled from the Robin’s and Simla found herself once more having to say farewell to the man she loved.

  “This is getting to be habit,” Yaf said, “and a bad one at that.”

  “Oh, Yaf,” Simla said, pulling him into a tighter embrace.

  “Oh, Yaf,” he mimicked.

  She punched his shoulder, “Swine. When will I see you again?”

  “I’ll be aboard the first warship to Old Earth from Pendor.”

  “You’re no soldier.”

  “As First Minister I’m automatically Commander In Chief of our armed forces, so I’ve given myself a service commission for the duration.”

  “Oh yeah, General Alrick, I can see you already in your smart uniform. You’ll probably end up awarding yourself a chest-full of medals.”

  “Lieutenant Alrick, actually. But that’s only because they wouldn’t let me join the ranks.”

  “Oh, Yaf,” she repeated.

  This time he didn’t mock her but planted a chaste kiss on her forehead. “On your way. Tell Old Earth that Pendor stands with them.”

  “And that proudly, sirrah,” she replied, curtseying prettily.

  Yaf bowed in reply and gave her his smartest salute.

  A single tear slipped down Simla’s face as she turned and entered the shuttle.

  XI

  Old Earth had changed since Simla had left. There seemed to be an urgency about the place and people, obviously caused by the impending threat of the Riaz. Just about everybody seemed to be involved in some military matter, whether training as a soldier or pilot, or working in a lab to create new and more powerful weapons.

  Her arrival, in the gigantic Riaz ship, had of course made a splash but she had soon tired of giving interviews and relating her legendary exploit. Everyone seemed to expect her to have some special insight into their enemy but as far as she was concerned she had only spoken a few brief words to an alien, and that didn’t qualify her as an expert. When pushed she’d point her interrogators in the direction of Elfi and what her research had uncovered. She, at least, had a vast staff at her disposal to bore people to death on such matters of interest as the Riaz digestive system or breeding traditions. And she missed Yaf, though not just physically. He had become embedded in her psyche as her one true mate and she knew that she would never be truly happy until she was with him and married to him. Whenever she felt particularly low she would watch a holo of him and clutch a t-shirt of his she’d begged from him. The masculine smell of him was still strong on it and she imagined his handsome face lying by her side, his hand on her belly and his sweet breath as he kissed her.

  She’d been to see the Great Father, of course, and he’d told her how proud he was of her and how stupid she was for risking her life, but dads were like that. His first words to her had actually been, “Same old Simla, of the green jerkin and red leather kilt.”

  She gave him her best smile, “A girl must have her trademark.”

  Despite her heroics he still wasn’t convinced that she should join up.

  “If the Riaz landed on Old Earth I’d be the first to thrust a gun into your hands, Simla,” he’d said, “but the fact of the matter is that soldiers are not our most urgent need.”

  “I know that. Let me go and work in a shipyard then
.”

  “And what do you know about building starships? Face it, Simla, you are a Princess by birth and training …”

  “And totally useless! Princesses are not going to win this war.”

  “No, but Princesses can inspire their people to win wars. And you’ve done your share of inspiring with that mad foray to the alien ship. I don’t think you need to prove anything.”

  “I’m not out to prove anything.”

  “You’re upset with me because of Shap,” her father said quietly.

  “Yes! You and your stupid programming have ruined my life.”

  “I tried to protect my daughter, as any father would.”

  “By making me unattainable for any man.”

  “That wasn’t my wish, Simla, you must believe that. If I could reprogram Shap right now I’d do it and have your young man here within the week and perform the marriage myself. It’s your happiness that’s important to me.”

  “Oh, father,” she cried, throwing herself into his arms. He’d never been a great one for physical contact and had left most of Simla’s upbringing to her mother, but even through her own bubbling she felt him racked with sobbing himself.

  “Dad?”

  “Oh, Simla, Simla. I have been Great Father of Old Earth for too long. I don’t know if I can handle this crisis. The people require strength and I don’t know if I have it.”