“Kenji!” she exclaims. They share a brief hug. The Fren next to Kenji also stands.
“Baby, your gorgeous face is a sight for sore eyes! I’m glad you could get here Nem. It wasn’t easy getting those visas” Kenji bellows, patting the Fren on the back.
“Hello, Captain. I wish to thank you for saving my life. I am Mulaar, and your friend wanted to arrange this visit as a reward. I only wish to thank you. If you ever need anything, I will help you” Mulaar says. She does a passable imitation of a curtsey before leaving.
“She’s very shy; she just wanted to thank you for getting us out of that station. She’s also extremely rich, which is how she was able to help!” Kenji says.
“You didn’t need to do anything. Knowing you are alright is enough. How are you doing?” Nemmy asks.
“Yeah, we’re fine now. Better than fine, I’m actually off on a project in about two minutes. Thanks to you and your friend, uh…”
“Callendra?”
“Yeah. Weird lady. Well, anyway, I just wanted to make sure you were here. I believe you will have a wonderful time here” he says with a wink. He rushes out the door before Nemmy can say another word. Even when he invites her, he still doesn’t stick around.
“Finally, some alone time,” Marcus says from behind her. He sweeps into the room and sprawls out on one of the couches. He gives Nemmy a lop-sided smirk. The pleasant tingling around her body strongly reminds her of just how attractive he is in the flesh. Viewspaces do nothing for this man, clearly. She sits down close to him, embracing the rush of pleasure as their thighs graze against one another.
“You know, the actual music part doesn’t start for another hour or so,” Marcus says, taking out a small control.
“What’s that?” she asks. His smirk appears to grow wider.
“It’s for locking the door” he breaths. Nemmy feels the heat of blood rushing to her face. But it’s not embarrassment this time. Her smile matches his own, as she takes the control from him and locks the door.
The Boomslang crew have shifted en-masse down towards the sandy mountain, each person clutching a headset. Lynsey, feeling happy to finally be walking about again, was at the front. It occurred to her that they were perhaps too tightly grouped together. She couldn’t have been the only one to notice the stares. Particularly from the various aliens, shying back or actively turning away in a couple of cases. She feels distinctly uncomfortable not having a weapon, at least for the option of suicide if nothing else. Angela tightly holds onto her arm, as she has done the entire trip so far. She continues to feel bad about what had happened to Lynsey and has been fussing over her constantly. It is entirely unnecessary in Lynsey’s opinion, but she isn’t yet about to stop her beloved wife fawning over her. They pass by a small building with two of the large Chiklids inside. Both dark coloured insects make an odd whistling sound, before cowering away.
They are scared, Lynsey realises. She looks around again, noticing the differences. The Confed humans mill around, chatting, and mixing together freely. However, almost all the aliens are watching the Imperials. Some are even peeking out from behind buildings. It’s not comfortable for anyone. She turns to the group.
“Look, I think we should probably blend in a bit more. Split up, mingle, socialise. At least try to pretend we are nice people?” she says, drawing a few laughs. She points over at a group of young women at a stall.
“Zhang, you could be over there right now!” she says. Zhang peeks out from the group. He appears unusually nervous to her. Zhang not instantly leaping towards a group of women was a rare occurrence.
“I don’t know” he mumbles. Very unsettling.
“Okay, Zhang, you’ve been weird for a few weeks now. The Tub falling to bits wasn’t your fault. There were structural problems. Now, get over there and show these Redheads what Imperial men are all about” she demands. Finally, he smiles that confident smile.
“If you insist” He quips, heading towards the stall.
“Don’t encourage people to socialise with these degenerates” Amira growls.
“They asked us to come; don’t you think we should at least make an effort?” Lynsey asks.
“No” comes the blunt response. There would never be a better time, Lynsey decides.
“Major, can you tell me why you hate the Confederation so much?” What little chatter had been going on in the group stopped instantly. Fury swept over Amira’s face.
“No, I can’t,” She says through gritted teeth. Lynsey grabs her hand and takes her away from the group, behind one of the nearest stalls. A small nod of the head is all Angela needs to understand. She goes to the front of the stall, directing the crew to other stalls.
“Major, if you don’t tell me, I won’t let you leave,” Lynsey says. The question bemuses Amira somewhat.
“Do you think you could actually prevent me from leaving?” she asks.
“Well...I could grab your legs tightly. No, I suppose not. But seriously, you’re not just my commanding officer. I like to think that you’re my friend, and this obviously bothers you deeply. You can trust me. Please, Major. Amira. Tell me” Lynsey pleads. Amira’s anger dissipates slowly. She can trust Lynsey, more than anyone. She exhales deeply, rubbing her forehead.
“Alright. But only you, understand? There is a Ship-master in their fleet, Ship-master Barros. About eight years ago, he murdered my aunt, uncle, and cousin and got away with it”
“Oh, God. I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say” Lynsey manages to utter.
“You don’t need to say anything. My family were going over to their space as part of a business exchange program of some sort. They were accused of being Imperial spies and summarily executed by this thug. They weren’t even in the military!” Amira explains, struggling to keep her voice down.
“I know what you’ll say. No, it’s not the fault of the entire Confederation, which is true. However, they presented the event as dirty Imperials breaking the law, and this heroic officer saving Confed lives! He’s been lauded as a hero ever since; I’ve seen VCs with him doing adverts! This murderer is getting pats on the back! And it all falls into the Confederation model. We’re the bad guys, the racists, the fascists. They are the heroes that never do anything wrong. They just swept this atrocity under the carpet, so they could make us look bad! I don’t hate aliens at all, but I don’t think I should wear a badge to prove that. They are just deceptive and sneaky, and I utterly despise it!” Amira stops her rant short, turning away. Lynsey reasons that she’s getting upset and certainly doesn’t want to shed a tear in front of her. Better not to ask in any case. She simply puts her hand on Amira’s shoulder.
“Thanks for telling me. I understand you now” She says.
“I think of you as a friend as well. Thanks for listening” Amira says.
“Ladies, stop flirting for a minute, I think this thing’s starting” Angela calls out from behind the stall. Amira quickly puts on her headset, covering the upper half of her head, before turning around. She obviously had been crying a little, Lynsey reflects, with good reason. Putting headsets on, the trio leaves the building area and head over to the sandy mountain, where increasing numbers of Chiklids are scuttling up and down. Dozens of the beetle-like beings start chucking pincerfuls of sand into the air.
“Well, this isn’t weird at all” Lynsey jokes.
Inside the hut, Nemmy lays sprawled out on a couch with her eyes closed. The festival will be starting soon, but she is so hot and relaxed, even opening her eyes is a challenge. She struggles against her body’s wishes, sitting upright and activating the nearest holo-unit. A miniature display of three humans and a Fren sitting around a desk pops up. Some news program, she guesses.
“How many is that this year? Thousands?” A stern looking woman says.
“It’s just another sign of Imperial barbarity. We all know what they are like” a man with astonishing
ly long hair replies.
“What is this about?” Nemmy asks as a freshly showered Marcus enters the room. He takes a quick look, and his eyes go wide.
“It’s about, uh, the death penalty. Basically, there is an outrage here every time you kill someone over there” he mumbles. He seems embarrassed to Nemmy.
“You don’t do that here, I guess?” she asks. He recoils instantly.
“God, no” He retorts.
“What does that mean?”
“You don’t think it’s obscenely immoral to have the government murder people?” Marcus asks, suddenly angry. Nemmy instantly feels like a stranger in a foreign land again.
“I don’t really make those decisions. Plus, aren’t we both in a situation where we might need to kill people anyway?” she asks.
“It isn’t the same Nemmy. Capital punishment was voted against in the Confederation decades before I was born; the very idea is nauseating to us. I can’t accept that people think that governments should have that kind of power over people” he rants, rushing to get the words out. She’s never seen him animated like this. Of course, she realises that she doesn’t really know him that well, or anyone in the Confederation for that matter. They are so very different. For a fleeting moment, she wonders what life would be like here. Something as simple as voting would be an incredible change for people used to having decisions big and small made for them on a daily basis. Probably not thoughts an Imperial officer should share with anyone, she ruminates.
“Remember Marcus, we don’t vote on things. I don’t want to kill anyone, you know that. But I don’t have a say on most things” she replies. He appears confused for a second, before sitting down with a chuckle.
“You’re right, I’m sorry. I forget that you’re an Imperialist dog sometimes” he says, nudging her in the rib. She playfully slaps him on the arm.
“I’m pretty sure our crime rates are much lower than yours, you Red clown!” she jokes. He laughs heartily, the previous anger forgotten. He taps her Strap.
“Probably because of these things. Do they come off?” He asks.
“Yes, but only in certain circumstances. Tampering with these things is actually…uh, one of the things that can lead to execution” she says, suddenly embarrassed at the reality of what she just said. Gratefully, Marcus doesn’t make a joke; he just takes her hand and smiles. A soft wiping sound on the door draws their attention. Nemmy unlocks the door, and what can only be described as a giant plant shuffles into the room. It…salutes Marcus, with a leafy appendage. A closer inspection allows Nemmy to comprehend what her eyes are showing her.
She has never seen a Sublon in person, and they are even more unusual than the other aliens here. The being has only a vaguely humanoid shape, with a series of white and red leafy branches extending out from the “stem”, a thin body of streaky green and white colouring. The body flares out at the bottom into what looks like a scrunched up brown quilt of sorts. The Sublon equivalent of feet, stretching out and crumpling up to move the Sublon around. The upper part resembles an old-fashioned lamp, with a curved bell-like hood hanging over the large viewing “eye” that wraps around the entire ‘head’. Nemmy had read about them on the way, but the reality is astounding. She can only sit and stare. The bell hood lifts for a few seconds, revealing a faint pink tube-like ring bulging out from the stem.
“Ship-master, the event begins,” The Sublon says. Or more appropriately, breathes. To Nemmy, it sounds like someone blowing through a pipe. She isn’t sure where the voice comes from either, as there is no mouth visible.
“Thank you Shaa. We’ll be out momentarily,” Marcus replies. The Sublon awkwardly tilts forward, almost toppling over, in a bow before shambling out of the hut.
“Wow” Nemmy breaths.
“Shaa is very brave. Only a few Subloni enter active service due to their population troubles. They are actually under a legal Fren Protectorate, did you know that?”
“I know practically nothing about any of these alien races,” Nemmy says wryly. Marcus chuckles, scooping up a pair of headsets lying next to their couch.
“I’d happily explain, but then we’d miss the show. Let’s go” He says, leading her outside. A shrill whistling sound assaults their ears as soon as they pass through the doorway. Marcus isn’t bothered at all, but Nemmy cowers slightly, covering her ears. It’s not pain as such, but the sound is distinctly uncomfortable.
“What is that?” Nemmy strains to ask. Marcus points towards the sandy mountain. Now both surrounded by enrapt viewers, and covered in Chiklids, swaying and chucking sand about. Marcus puts on his headset and taps it a few times, motioning for her to put hers on. In truth, it was more of a helmet than a headset. She places the bulky headset on, noticing how many of her crew are transfixed by the events before them. A visor comes down over her eyes, and it activates after a couple of seconds. Instantly the bright sky is filled with streaking rainbows of vivid colours, and the whistling sound is replaced by a wonderful harmonious music. The blinding reds and purples and yellows and greens, and blues and oranges and countless other colours spin and twist and soar around the area as if the sky itself is being repainted. The music, the incredible music, seems to lead the colours around, as the rainbows dip and rise in perfect synch with the notes. Nemmy had never seen such a magical display. The combination of the Chiklid humming and the colours somehow filling the sky takes her breath away. She tingles all over and can only stand in awe at the sight.
Marcus takes her hand and gently squeezes it. She returns the favour happily, even though she is mesmerized by the colours and can’t take her eyes away. Nemmy has no idea how long this event will last, but she feels deeply grateful for being allowed to see it and hopes it will last a long time. Confeds and Imperials alike gaze in wonderment as more and more Chiklids scuttle over the huge mound, chucking the now glittering sand into the air and adding their voices to the all-encompassing symphony filling the air. No matter what, Nemmy decides she will need to return to see this again one day.
“Preliminary data is quite revealing,” Admiral Winters says, displaying a hologram image of Calamora in the centre of the small meeting room. Around the image, a string of Admirals pour over their own datapads.
“These ship counts can’t be right” one Admiral pipes up. Roger Novo ghosts in from behind Winters to display a series of still shots of various Confederation ships.
“The scans don’t lie, Admiral. An Imperial ship lands on the planet, and they still only mustered a handful of ships as security. This was the chance to show us they weren’t soft touches. To my eyes, they’ve done the exact opposite” He elaborates. He jabs a finger at the planet.
“Look at this place. Many of our people will never get to experience standing on a planet and breathing unrestricted, free air. The nearest Earth-like in Imperial space is days away. It’s not fair that an accident of astronomy denies our citizens this experience”
“Getting a tad emotional there, Fleet Captain? You’ve spent too long with Winters” Another Admiral asks to the great amusement of several officers. Winters, apparently not flustered at the jibe, calmly dismisses the holo-images with a gesture.
“It’s a critical issue. I don’t even need to mention the economic and moral benefits of having such a planet under our control. This is a rare treasure. Humanity, and humanity alone, should possess it. We have the moral obligation to relieve the Confederation of this system by any means necessary” Winters states. His words carry great weight with the other Admirals, as the previous joviality is replaced by murmured agreements and nodding heads. Everyone turns to look at the head of the meeting. Alondra has remained quiet for the entire process. Whilst Winters has jumped on the info the Boomslang had provided, she needed to see how many other fleet leaders would lean in his direction.
It appears most of them are amenable to the concept, even if, as always, they never look at the full picture. All competi
ng for the glory of such a momentous accomplishment. They all want her job, but they only serve to display why they don’t have it.
“I wonder if this enthusiasm would dip if your flagships were to lead the assault,” she asks the group. As she fully expects, several heads dip down. Winters may be insufferable, but at least he maintains a strong eye contact.
“I’ll happily take command if no-one else will” Winters states. A mission of this magnitude would require several fleets working together, meaning only Alondra herself could give the go-ahead, and he knows that. Goading her into allowing him both the command and the glory and making herself appear weak in the process. Smart, if somewhat transparent. In truth, she is not overly convinced that the effort required to take this planet would be worth the inevitable reprisals from the Confederation. The ISF is not quite as strong as even the Admirals believe.
On the other hand, the planet is a rich, tempting treasure. An Earth-like planet is one of the few things truly worth fighting for. She has a thousand other concerns to deal with, but this is something to ponder. Perhaps some of the officers here may display some rare vision and foresight if given the opportunity. They may also reveal a lack of tactical and strategic knowledge, or arrogance, or lack of compromise. Any revelation would be useful to her in keeping mouthy, aggressive officers in their place. She stands, making it clear her decision is made.
“As interesting as all this is, there is no plan, no detail. I agree that this planet is a tantalising target. I will send the current sector inventory reports as well as shipbuilding projections for the next year. I want each of you to prepare a feasible operation plan. Keep in mind I expect fair contributions from all fleets. If it all stands up to inspection...then we’ll take the planet” Alondra says.
First and Second Impressions
The Boomslang had barely re-entered Imperial space when they had been diverted to one of the many comm buoys silently lurking in deep space. The buoy, almost as wide as the Boomslang herself, is desperately in need of various repairs and maintenance work apparently. Zhang isn’t convinced. More than likely, HQ wants the repairs done but doesn’t want to send a specialist crew all the way out here. So of course, his precious free time must be snatched away. Even more irritating was that another ship did arrive almost exactly when they did. He doesn’t understand this decision making, but in truth, he doesn’t really care. Command choices are for other people to worry about. The other ship, a basic transport vessel, floats on the other side of the buoy. Apparently, they were finally delivering another trained shuttle pilot. With any luck, a busty lady with an overly friendly nature. For now, Zhang tries to focus on the schematics of the buoy on the screen before him.
Unknown Earth Volume 2 Page 14