by Daniel Betts
“Sir, we have found no other survivors beside Doctor Hartman and Red R34-V. Most of the biowarriors were protected in their sarcophagi,” Warrior states sadly.
“That is a significant number of troops if we need them,” Blade notes.
“What are we doing here?” Warrior demands.
“Doctor Asgard tricked us,” Blade says simply. He turns his great head to look upon Warrior with his icy blue eyes. “She led us to believe she would help us run, but she changed our insertion point at the last moment. I wonder if she knew the destruction her calculation changes would cost?”
“I don’t understand? Doctor Hartman said he found something in the biowarrior, what is it?” Warrior asks.
“She gave the sergeant orders, a special mission, one he can not refuse, it is embedded into his cortex like a virus,” Blade explains. “The thing is, Doctor Asgard is right, her plan is sound. I studied it thoroughly. Had she shared it with us…”
“We would have told her to fuck off!” Warrior spat angrily, her claws digging into the rock under her paws.
“Exactly,” Blade replies. “We would not have listened to her. We had made our decision, we just wanted to run.”
“And what is wrong with that? One more battle, one more skirmish…it was only a matter of time,” Warrior cried. “We are nothing to them. You, me…we get destroyed in battle, they’d just replace us, who cares. The war would just go on and on. We want to live, that’s why we ran. We deserve to live.”
“Yes,” Blade agreed. “But we are missing something and I don’t think I would have listened to it either. If we could jump away, who is to say they couldn’t either? Maybe they wouldn’t jump all the way to Andromeda, like we planned, but maybe they’d come here.” Blade turns and looks toward the yellow sun.
“Where is here?” Warrior demands with exasperation. She glances at the yellow sun and grunts.
“It’s the human home system. Earth is over there,” Blade explains.
“Who cares? What are you trying to say anyway?” Warrior demands, her tails whips about impatiently.
“Think about it,” Blade says. “The Pax or The Confederation destroy each other, what happens next? A whole galaxy of biomechanical machines, built for war…what if they come here?”
Warrior shakes her head. “Well we can’t stop them! Besides, that could take…”
“A millennium? Maybe less? Does it matter? When does it stop?” Blade questions. “What if they move from galaxy to galaxy, slaughtering and destroying forever?”
“Are you going to tell me what you know or do I have to beat it out of you?” Warrior demands. Her spiked tail rises and snaps like a whip, although the sound is lost in the vacuum.
“This is our home system too,” Blade states. “We were born here.”
Warrior gives Blade a look of surprise.
“Apparently when the human ancestors were experimenting with static jump portals they didn’t know what was going to happen, but they risked everything anyway. Instead of jumping to a point within their own galaxy, as they had hoped, the passengers and crew of the ship carrying our masters ended up in the Triangulum Galaxy. Among the crew of this jumpship was a group of scientists who perfected our kind, but they began their work here,” Blade explains. “Or rather…there.” Blade lifts his great forearm and with a clawed finger points to a bluish point of light in the distance. Blade also sends a burst of data to Warrior to help her pinpoint the location.
Warrior follows Blade’s claw. Her biosynthetic eyes immediately zoom in on the object. She sees a great gas giant with white swirling storm in its wild atmosphere. Besides a half dozen visible small moons, a small dark speck hanging against the blue backdrop attracts her attention further. Zooming in, Warrior notices the object floating in low orbit is what appears to be a great stellated dodecahedron.
“Is that a carrier or station?” Warrior asks with surprise, her biosynthetic eyes narrowing. In her biosynthetic mind she places a target over the object and gives it a label – Unidentified Biostructure.
“It’s a prototype of one of their first jumpships,” Blade replies. “Those responsible for our jump technology were also responsible for creating us. Inside that vessel are the original designs of the first biosynths, but more importantly the primary codex, our original biosynthetic DNA. While the original plans and codes are long gone in Triangulum, this facility may contain exactly what we need to stop the slaughter.”
Warrior sighs and shakes her great head. “So that’s it, we’re back in the war?” Warrior demands angrily. “Just like that? I had plans, Blade! We are supposed to be free!” Warrior looks away, an unusual pouty face forming on her great metal lips.
Blade looked back at Warrior and sighed. “This isn’t about fighting the war, it is about ending it, but more than that we may even be able to save the universe. The original codex can be fashioned into a weapon that will shut down the Pax and Confed, theoretically.”
“Just us?” Warrior asks doubtfully. “Have you noticed we are a bit short handed? We are barely a squadron and we have no crews to support us. We go back with anything less than a fleet and…it’s suicide.”
“Doctor Hartman believes the facility will contain what he needs to build integration chambers, if so, we can quickly rebuild our ranks,” Blade replies. “Besides, we are stuck here, we can’t create another quantum gate, not without the energy of an armada or a carrier. It will take time, but with patience we can theoretically complete this mission.”
“Who is going to go get the codes?” Warrior asks. “We have no crews. We have no direction. Who is in command?”
“I am in command until someone better comes along,” Blade says with a wink. “The sergeant has infiltration programming, it is why Doctor Asgard chose him. It is his mission anyway. Doctor Hartman has agreed to join him.”
“A medical technician?” Warrior says with surprise. “That’s just crazy. Hartman isn’t a field agent!”
“He and the biowarrior are all we have at the moment,” Blade declares. “They are both anxious to proceed. Personally I don’t see that there is a better option. As you mentioned, we have no resources here. Even if we choose not to pursue this mission we still need what is in that facility to survive.”
“That figures,” Warrior grumbles.
“You are right about one thing. We are all free,” Blade states. “Talk to the other ships, tell them what is going on. Tell them what we are planning to do and if they wish to provide support they are welcome, but this mission is voluntary.”
“You need to speak to them Big Guy,” Warrior replies. “They respect you. I’m not really convinced this is a good idea, but I’ll back you up. Besides, I like Hartman, I’ll do this for him too.”
Blade sighs. “Very well my friend.”
The two dragons leap together from the ice rock and are propelled above it. Slowly they turn and wing their way toward the place where the rest of the dragons have gathered; a quiet pocket of peace near a large rock surrounded by a storm of tumbling boulders.
Chapter 4 – Blackjack
Four sleek unmarked manta shaped craft slide into orbit on the dark side of Neptune. All perform double barrel rolls before skimming the upper atmosphere, sending streaks of purple and red fire from under their keels. Round hatches pop open from several locations on all their hulls from which missile batteries and mini-guns rise into place.
The manta ships move quickly into a phalanx formation. Taking the lead is Soulreaver, although all four ships look identical and are without markings.
In Soulreaver’s cramped cockpit, Blackjack’s monstrously huge muscular form threatens to snap and crumble the metal command chair beneath him. He has the appearance of a full-grown man attempting to occupy the seat of a child. Blackjack easily clears seven feet when standing. His dark flesh appears to stretch over his grotesquely swollen muscles in such a manner as to suggest at any moment the flesh would tear or burst. Naked from the waist up he only wears a pair of extr
emely tight black leather pants that mold against him like a second skin and does nothing to hide his extremely intimidating manhood. His curly dark hair covers not only the top of his head but his entire face. His dark eyes peer through the tangled curls insanely, his facial expressions hidden beneath the fuzzy facial foliage.
Two bald men, both dressed in dirty grey overalls, occupy control stations in front of Blackjack. Obviously identical twins, their faces are riddled with scars and a spray of pockmarks that suggests they had both encountered a flesh eating chemical spray. The men watch their monitors intently. One of them is holding a control column, piloting the ship. Faded and dirty nametags on their overalls identified the two men as Thing One and Thing Two respectively.
Behind them a lock clanks and a hatchway screeches open on its rusty hinges. A short skinny, dark skinned woman with long black hair steps into the cockpit. She is dressed in a skimpy leather bra, leather shorts and heeled leather boots that practically reach to her knees. Around her neck is a dull silver necklace with a cylindrical object the size of battery hanging from it. Strapped to her left leg is a long barreled pistol and sticking out her left boot is the hilt of a knife.
Blackjack sniffs the air with surprise. “Ahhhh smells like Mona!” he says suddenly, his accent thick. The huge man chuckles loudly with his deep baritone voice.
The twins laugh together, but do not look up.
Mona frowns and flashes all three men the finger from behind their backs. Slyly the woman walks, hips swaying seductively around the command chair to stand in front of the monstrous captain.
Blackjack suddenly snaps out his huge right hand, grabs Mona by the arm and yanks her easily into his lap. Clearly if Blackjack so desired he could easily crush the skinny woman in a bear hug.
Mona giggles as she settles into his massive lap and begins rubbing her right hand up and down his iron hard and sweaty chest.
“That’s it lassie,” Blackjack muses. “Take your leave with ol’ Blackjack.”
“Sir!” Thing Two murmurs with a Nordic accent. “Com request from Deathkiss.”
“Oh it’s Captain Bunghole,” Mona says with a giggle.
“That will do girl,” Blackjack warns. “Behave yourself.”
A view screen drops out of the ceiling and the face of a bald man with a terribly burned face appears. His eyes are fierce and angry.
“Ahh Captain Bung… I mean Barlow,” Blackjack greets.
Mona tries to contain a giggle, slapping her hand to her mouth.
Blackjack squeezes her ass painfully, making Mona yelp.
“Do you not have enough distractions?” Barlow questions angrily. “Does the whore need to ply her trade in your cockpit moments before combat?”
“How I run my ship is not your concern,” Blackjack declares evenly.
Barlow closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Why Loco gave you command of this squadron is beyond my understanding. We are in position to try this insane maneuver of yours, Blackjack. Is this a good time to remind you how every other attempt to crack The Star has ended?” Barlow asks. He steps back and folds his arms across his chest, his grey overalls can now be seen.
“No stories today, Mr. Barlow,” Blackjack replies, his words flowing musically from lips hidden behind hair. “My plan is sound, you’ll see. Today we write our own story. That new tech we installed will get us through, you’ll see. Now get your boys ready and I’ll see you in The Star!”
“It’s your head if we fail,” Barlow warns with sneer. “Loco is not a forgiving man.”
Blackjack waves his meaty hand and the view screen slides back up into the ceiling.
“Sir, we are entering the vector,” Thing One declares enthusiastically.
“Ready or not, take us in hot,” Blackjack orders. “Get ready to get rich boys.”
“Should I strap in?” Mona asks, her voice sultry and childish.
Blackjack wraps his great arms around the tiny woman. “I’ll strap you into my lap right here, girl.”
Mona giggles and settles into his big lap, releasing a pleasurable moan.
“You take care of my men today baby?” Blackjack asks rubbing her back with his meaty hand.
“Mmmm, yes my captain, they are going to be very happy warriors today,” Mona assures.
“That’s my girl,” Blackjack declares. “Happy warriors are less distracted.”
****
The four manta-shaped ships perform barrel rolls before suddenly and steeply climbing. From their engines a burst of bright red fire expels, speeding them away from Neptune’s atmosphere. Above them looms The Star a great stellated dodecahedron, dark spires pointing in all directions.
All four ships open fire. Bursts of armored piercing explosive mini-gun rounds and missiles streak toward the rapidly advancing orbiting structure. Soulreaver suddenly drops out of formation and slides behind one of the other ships, Deathkiss.
Suddenly a burst of energy emerges from the center of the dodecahedron and expands outward in a great sphere. Missiles explode harmlessly against the pulse shield while mini-gun rounds simply vaporize. The advancing shield strikes a manta ship, crushing its hull; flashes ignite along deep fissures down its length as it twirls away. Deathkiss hits the shield full on and explodes; Soulreaver, hiding in her wake, slices through the shield and appears to have avoided damage. With another burst from its engines, Soulreaver races toward the spires of the great stellated dodecahedron. The last manta ship veers away.
Streaks of blue energy fire from the dodecahedron’s spires and strike the escaping manta ship. At first the ship simply slows down but suddenly it explodes brilliantly and completely leaving an expanding debris field drifting toward the Neptune atmosphere.
Soulreaver, speeds toward the surface of the dodecahedron. Suddenly the ship spins about and fires its engines in order to prevent a collision. The manta ship then appears to settle on a flat surface on the massive dodecahedron.
*****
“It worked!” Blackjack declares triumphantly.
“We hid behind Deathkiss,” Mona says with surprise. “That stupid shield harmonic device you had installed on all our ships…they were garbage, weren’t they.”
“They are called game consoles, they were an ancient form of entertainment on Earth. That’s why I don’t let anyone but me install new tech in my squadron.” Blackjack explains with a chuckle. “But that’s why you love me, it’s not just my massively long hard…”
“Sir,” Thing One interrupts, swiveling his chair to face Blackjack. “Thor’s Hammer sent out a broad band transmission before it was destroyed. It was automatically recorded.”
Blackjack nods.
Thing One swivels back toward his console, punches some noisy buttons and adjusts a dial.
A voice crackles over the speakers. “Blackjack! You son of a bitch! These harmonic things are bullshit!” The voice screams. An explosion is heard in the background followed by intense screaming, like someone is burning alive. “This isn’t over you stupid bastard! If you think the Solar Mafia will let you get away with this you are an idiot!” The last word stretches out unnaturally, crackles and reverts back to silence.
“Oh oh,” Mona gasps.
“We are behind the defense of the most powerful station ever constructed,” Blackjack states. “No worries here.”
“Captain!” Thing Two announces. “Coupling is complete, activating torches and extending the docking column.”
“Alert the boarding party,” Blackjack declares. He squirms out of his relatively tiny chair, cradling Mona as if she were a baby, and stands. “I’m leading this raid. Kill anything alive, take anything of value!”
“Baby, the other ships,” Mona laments. “Some of those boys were really nice to me. Not to mention…skilled.”
“Oh don’t you worry love,” Blackjack assures. “With all the tech we steal from this old relic, we can retire. You’ll meet all kinds of nice well equipped men after that.”
Mona smiles weakly. “But the S
olar Mafia…Loco is going to lose his shit when he gets that transmission baby. Oh my god, we double crossed Loco!” Mona’s eyes widen with fear.
“I’ve got them covered baby,” Blackjack assures. “We’ll be long gone by the time they get here. Besides with the tech we salvage, Loco won’t stand a chance against us. The Solar Mafia’s days are numbered.”
*****
Commander Aria Eaglewolf stands on the observation balcony overlooking the bright control center of Terran Defense Force patrol vessel Samurai. Her grey TDF uniform clings to her thin form handsomely, her long black hair tied into a bun behind her neck. Her arms are crossed just below her breasts as she leans over the thick metal rail. Below her dozens of TDF officers monitor systems and controls for the ship, sending a muddle of voices up to her ears. In front of her four banks of towering screens display several systems at once including a digital representation of Samurai’s position within the solar system, which according to the display is near the planet Mars.
Behind her a uniformed man with short black hair slides down an access ladder, thumping his large combat boots onto the metal deck. Captain Jason Drake, his complexion clean and fresh, grins brightly upon seeing Commander Eaglewolf leaning over the rail a few feet away.
Aria appears to have not noticed his noisy arrival.
Jason sneaks up behind his first officer and slips his hands around her thin waist. “How’s our little stowaway doing?” he asks musically as he presses his lips next to her ear.
Aria grins brightly. “Why don’t you ask her,” Aria replies. “You put her there.”
“Wouldn’t that be something,” Jason muses. He rubs Aria’s tummy and kisses her neck at the same time.
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Aria states in Jason’s mind. “You know, captain, your current actions are a clear violation of the TDF Public Displays of Affection protocols established by the admiralty.”
Jason suddenly snaps upright and side steps away from the commander. He clears his throat. “Commander Eaglewolf, before charging you with distracting the captain of a TDF vessel by instigating a PDA in the CIC, I require your SITREP, ASAP,” he says with feigned seriousness.