Space Dragon Allepexxis

by C. K. Pershing

  A robot had already launched from the Tannhauser and was approaching. As it drew closer, Feln could start to hear a voice coming through the static. “This damn lousy reception! You’ve gotta be right on top of somebody before they can hear you. Feln. Feln! Can you hear me? Feln?”

  “Yeah, I can hear you,” he answered as a window on his screen suddenly popped on with the title: Transmission from Lt (jg). Valisia Nonn, Francescan Imperial Star Navy Pilot Rank BB5. Valisia… She looked so much like Katashka right now… Feln suddenly choked thinking about how he had just killed Valisia’s big sister. No, she was dead a long time ago. He had set her free.

  “Feln? Are you okay?” Valisia asked. “What’s wrong?” As she hovered nearby, small service ships had left the Tannhauser and were attaching grappling hooks to take Denxeiter into the hangar.

  “Nothing, I’m fine,” he answered. “There’s something—“

  “Where the hell have you guys been?” a second voice suddenly burst in. Feln looked around to see a space tug from the colony pulling up and knocking Valisia’s robot aside. Aaltskog. Sure enough, an image of what looked like a twelve year old girl with short purple hair that covered her eyes popped on screen with the title: Transmission from Mech. Aaltskog, Francescan Imperial Star Navy Space Knight Companion Rank XXX. “Do you idiots realize that Feln’s been out here fighting alone for two weeks? Look at his status! Denxeiter’s almost out of energy and most of his weapons are dead!”

  Valisia was irritated, “Listen, Aaltskog, you know damn well how hard it is to navigate out here. We kept getting lost trying to get back!”

  “I don’t wanna hear it! You clowns think you can go on these grand adventures and leave everything to Feln! Well, I’ve had it! I’m not gonna—“

  A third voice, deep and rich, broke in, muting the other two. “Excuse me. That will be enough.” The reptilian face of a Ssalss appeared in a window larger than the other two with a gold border and a title that read: Transmission from Adm. Wrettid Kesh, Francescan Imperial Star Navy Commanding Officer I.F.S.N. TANNHAUSER, Planetary Colonizing Fleet #198 Commanding Officer. “I will speak with Captain Koenig now.”

  With a small yelp of terror, Aaltskog disappeared, followed soon after by Valisia with a clumsy salute and face reddened with embarrassment.

  Feln saluted and after returning his salute, Kesh said, “I’m so very sorry, Captain. We started back a week ago, but it really does seem like this area of space has some kind of malevolent mind. I’m all but positive that it was actually acting against us to keep us from returning.” His eyes lowered, “I hope you can forgive me.”

  Feln was shocked by this level of emotion from a Ssalss, a famously stoic race whose propensity to not let their emotions run free made them ideally suited to command. While Feln enjoyed a level of autonomy as a Space Knight, Kesh was still nominally his superior in this fleet. The Ssalss’ apology warmed Feln’s heart, “Sir, I can assure you there is nothing to forgive.”

  Kesh dipped his head in thanks and said, “Your Companion says you’ve been fighting alone most of the time. There were three destroyers left to help… And the colony’s home guard was of no use?”

  “As you’ve no doubt surmised, the destroyers were lost in action. As for the home guard, almost half were destroyed by the first couple of enemy waves. When I realized that the enemy seemed to be after me primarily, I told the remaining forces to stay in reserve and guard the colony. Governor Zalk was hesitant to leave the fighting to me alone, but I reminded him of his duty to protect the colonists and he regretfully agreed with me.”

  “Ah, yes, an honorable man to offer such assistance and it must have been hard for him to watch these most recent events unfold in your mission. It seemed we arrived just in time.”

  “Yes, sir…” The loss of those destroyers and the home guard ships still stung.

  “You say that the enemy was mostly focused on fighting you.”

  “Yes, sir, maybe they decided on a strategy to remove Denxeiter from the equation once and for all before a final assault on the colony.” Feln paused and added, “After all, with Ganxeiter’s loss to the enemy last year, I’m the only Space Knight left in this theater of battle.”

  At the mention of Ganxeiter, Kesh again lowered his eyes for a moment before saying, “It seemed that the enemy was moving to capture you when we arrived…”

  Feln knew what Kesh as getting at, “Yes, to affect a possession of Denxeiter as we’ve seen with many of our former comrades and Ganxeiter. They almost had me on a couple occasions. I’ll go into more detail in my report.”

  “I’m sure it will be a… riveting story.”

  Feln paused again. He knew Valisia was likely listening in, and so was Aaltskog. But he had to say something while they were still close to what was left of… “Sir, I also engaged Ganxeiter in battle. Ganxeiter and Space Knight Nonn were both destroyed.”

  Kesh closed his eyes and was silent for a long moment. “I see.”

  “You’ll notice a debris field a few miles away south, southwest on a declining vertical. That was Ganxeiter. You’ll likely want to dispatch a team to examine…”

  Valisia’s robot shot off in the direction Feln had described. So she had been listening. Damn, he knew this was a horrible way for her to find out. But he had no choice. If he waited for a better time, the debris field of Ganxeiter’s remains may have dissipated by then. Or simply have gotten lost in all the other debris floating around. The fact was, Ganxeiter’s remains would provide valuable intel.

  Kesh said what Feln had been thinking, “Yes, anything we can recover would be of incalculable help to hopefully understanding this enemy.” More somber, he continued, “Captain Koenig, I’m sorry. I know you and Lieutenant Nonn had developed a friendship.”

  Feln nodded and changed the subject. “Admiral, did you find anything on your mission? Please tell me this was all worth it.”

  Kesh’s spirits seemed to lift. “Actually, we did find something. Just how valuable it is remains to be seen, but I’m cautiously optimistic.”

  Feln sank back in his chair in relief. Kesh’s affirmation seemed to release a valve and Feln’s last bit of strength was overcome by exhaustion, “That’s wonderful, Admiral.” His eyes closed and he managed to get out, “now if you don’t mind, I think I’ll catch some sleep…”

  “Of course,” Kesh replied, “It’s well-deserved.” But Feln was already asleep before Kesh finished his sentence.

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  Also, don’t miss Francescan Tales Book One: Denxeiter’s Duel!

  Taking place 63 years prior to the events of Space Knight Denxeiter, Denxeiter’s Duel is a novella that tells the story of Johnny Vogel, Denxeiter’s second pilot (and his Companion, femme fatale Miss Cassalindre), on what would be his last mission: a battle against space pirates followed by a vicious duel against an alien Hyper Battle Machine that would send him spiraling into Resonance. Chapter One is below!

  Francescan Star Calendar Year 520.12

  Location: Proxus IV

  Proxus IV was about as interesting as a planet named for its position from its sun could be. That nobody felt the need to give the planet its own name was indicative of the fact that it really didn’t have much to offer would-be immigrants. Various mining companies had made a go of the world and found its resources lacking. So most of its inhabitants were people who wanted to live quiet lives and the few true-believers who felt they’d prove everybody else wrong and strike it rich by finding an illusive prize the big guys missed.

  It had been 33 years since the Golden Path of Enlightenment Army had been beaten by Emperor Siegfried Francesca II and 56 years since the war between the Francescan Star Empire and the Aldonis Federation was ended by treaty. And although the Francescans had been the victors in both of those conflicts, it would be quite some time before the pre-war status quo would return. The fact was, fringe planets with no real strategic or resource value was not at the top of anyone’s list when it came to re
establishing security and infrastructure.

  Space Pirates were happy to exploit this point, as were proxies for the Aldonis. Also involved were the Aldonis themselves who knew the Francescans wouldn’t turn their Cold War hot over some barren dirt balls in the middle of nowhere. That said, the Francescan Star Empire would only allow these depredations to go so far before dispatching someone to settle things. After all, it wasn’t only about protecting the lives of its citizens, it was also about maintaining prestige. And no self-respecting Francescan was going to let a barbarous space pirate or a pretentious Aldonis ship captain (which truth be told, wasn’t much more than a space pirate) set up shop on his watch.

  And so it was that the “Desert Whirlwind” was sent to the sector containing Proxus IV to clean things up.

  The town of Grisby was grinding through yet another day of absolutely nothing happening. It was the last stop on the way into the giant Raxe Desert. Occasionally somebody would stop by to get supplies, either going to the desert or coming from the desert. Despite such sparse conditions, the townspeople had learned to take their lives in stride and had settled into a peaceful, relatively happy existence.

  That peace was suddenly destroyed when a gang of twelve men rode into town shooting their guns in the air and trying to run down anybody who got in the way of their large reptilian steeds. Luckily, most of the townspeople were already indoors to stay out of the sweltering heat, so there wasn’t much sport for the wild newcomers. It was a safe bet that most of the locals would be wiling away their time in the saloon since there wasn’t much else to do. The gang members were thirsty— they had been riding for two days after raiding the next closest town of Riza— and their leader decided to kill two birds with one stone by shaking down the locals in the saloon and slaking his mens’ thirst at the same time.

  There was a collection of various modes of conveyance outside the saloon, everything from a giant rat creature with a saddle to more reptiles like the outlaws were riding. But a low-slung motorcycle caught the leader’s eye. As he and his men filed past the machine to go into the saloon, he made up his mind that he’d be trading in his reptile for the bike. He checked his reflection in the glass of the saloon’s windows and straightened his hat and adjusted his tie. He made a point of always being well-dressed. He had an image to maintain.

  As his men opened the door for him, wonderful, cool, conditioned air greeted him along with sounds of laughter, talking, and general good cheer underscored by the playing of a guitar. He was used to everything stopping when he and his men arrived, but that didn’t happen here. Everyone kept on going about their business and nobody spared the newcomers a second glance.

  Well, nobody except the attentive bartender. “Hello friends, what’ll you have?”

  The gang’s leader blinked before smiling and setting his gun on the bar. “If you’d be so kind, I’d like to have water for my men and myself.”

  “Huh, nothing stronger?”

  “No, we have to stay sharp for what we intend to do.”

  The bartender smiled. “What you intend to do…” He leaned in close, “A word of advice?”

  The gang’s leader returned the smile, “I’m much obliged.”

  “Good.” The bartender pointed. “That gentleman at the big table with the star on his vest. That’s the sheriff. You’d best turn yourselves in right now.” The other man started to say something but the bartender continued. “You’re obviously Bloody Tocro. It may surprise you to know, but we do have communications on this planet. We know what you did in Riza and knew you were coming the second you left. So why don’t you do everyone a favor and turn yourselves in?”

  Bloody Tocro coughed. “Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting you to say that.” He paused and looked around the saloon. Everybody was still going about their business, including the sheriff, who was focused on a particularly intense game of cards at his table. These townspeople didn’t take Tocro seriously and that really got under his skin. He took a moment to keep himself from blurting out something in anger. But he had an appearance to maintain.

  He turned back to the bartender. “With all due respect, your sheriff doesn’t look like anything we can’t handle. If you know who I am, you know what my men are capable of. We’ve staged raids all throughout the sector without suffering a single casualty. We can handle a small-town sheriff.”

  The bartender sighed. “I only said to turn yourselves in to the sheriff, but he’s not—“

  Bloody Tocro had enough and picked up his gun and fired into the air. “Everybody be quiet!” he yelled to the saloon patrons.

  “Suit yourself…” the bartender muttered as he stepped away from the bar.

  As the people quieted down to listen, Bloody Tocro said, “I am Captain Edward ‘Bloody’ Tocro of the Shannon. Your bartender says that you’ve been expecting me. I’m sure my reputation precedes me. You know that we’re here for money and the company of anyone who strikes our fancy. I will not lie— there will be some unpleasantness. But so long as you obey our orders, nobody will be killed.” He looked around. This was usually when a sense of fear broke out among the crowd and the wailing started. But the crowd simply stared at him, waiting for him to continue.

  Perturbed, he went on, “If anyone steps out of line, I have a zero-tolerance policy and will not hesitate to punish the offending party. Now, I’d like for all of you to—“ Tocro stopped when he realized he wasn’t being given the absolute quiet he had demanded. Someone was still playing guitar.

  “Who is that? Who’s playing the guitar?” he demanded.

  The crowd slowly parted to reveal a cowboy in a navy blue poncho sitting in a back corner of the saloon. His chair was kicked back against the wall and his head was lowered so only his stubble-covered chin and mouth could be seen under his hat. His guitar was well-worn and he was playing a piece of music that Tocro recognized as a sort of slow waltz.

  Tocro couldn’t stay focused on the cowboy for long because his eyes immediately fixated on the striking cowgirl that accompanied the cowboy, her head resting on his shoulder and her eyes closed. She had long silky blonde hair that framed a lovely face with freckles that seemed perfectly placed. Her legs had black stockings and were the longest he’d ever seen on a human girl, as if she was a fantasy come true. Those long legs were spread slightly and led up to a very short skirt under which he could barely make out very tiny black panties. Her entire outfit was gray with black highlights and she wore elbow-length black gloves. In one of her hands she held a long cigarette holder. She absently put it to her supple lips and took a drag.

  “I’m not the one you should be focusing on,” she breathed out with an exhalation of smoke. Her voice was low and sensual. Her eyes slowly opened and swung over to Tocro. To his shock, those eyes were deep red.

  Considering her entire amazing aspect from head to toe, Tocro had to keep himself from blurting out, “You’re not?”

  As if reading his mind, she said, “No, you should be focusing on him.” Her red eyes swung up to the cowboy whose shoulder her head was on. The cowboy who really didn’t look like much and who kept playing his damn guitar.

  With a supreme force of effort, Tocro pulled himself together and said, “You there, stop playing that guitar while I’m speaking.”

  The cowboy spoke in a way Tocro wasn’t expecting. Tocro thought maybe he’d sound like a male equivalent to the girl, low and smooth. Instead, he sounded guttural, like the filthiest born dirt farmer. “Sorry, but I ain’t gonna do that. Gotta finish my song.”

  As if watching a tennis match, the saloon patrons’ eyes had been going back and forth between Tocro and the couple in the corner. Those eyes now swung back to Tocro. He was starting to feel himself losing his grip on maintaining his image. He was about to send out a stream of curses, but one of his men saved him.

  His first officer, Cutti, strode to the back of the room and leveled his gun at the cowboy. The girl’s eyebrows raised slightly and she started to chuckle as Cutti said, “Now liste
n, the Captain said to stop your playing. You’d better do it or—“

  The cowboy lifted his head ever so slightly so that Cutti could see his eyes. From where Tocro stood, he couldn’t see anything, but the effect on Cutti was extraordinary. Cutti, a man Tocro knew to be absolutely fearless, took a step back in obvious terror. The gun he was holding was quickly placed on the table with a soft apology given. Cutti then turned and walked past a shocked Tocro and without a word or glance back, exited the saloon.

  Tocro felt like he was in a dream as he stood there wondering what to do next. The fact was he was a fantastic sharpshooter and the path between himself and the cowboy was open. Nobody would get hit in the crossfire. He’d shoot this ridiculous cretin and take the girl for himself. He’d savor seeing those red eyes open in shock as he forced his tongue down her throat and his cock between her legs. He started to reach for his gun just as the cowboy finished playing. Tocro froze and let his hand slowly drop away from his gun. Of course, now that the guitar had stopped, Tocro wished it was back because the tense silence was deafening.

  “Okay then,” the cowboy said as he slowly got to his feet and stretched. He slung the guitar across his back as he walked past Tocro, the girl languidly following. As he passed, Tocro caught a glimpse of the cowboy’s eyes and felt like he was staring at death. It was only for an instant because the eyes suddenly became lighter as the cowboy waved for Tocro and his gang to follow him outside. “Alright, come on. Let’s get this over with.”

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  Concept Art Gallery

  Also in the Francescan Series

  (Series can be read in any order)

  FRANCESCAN WAR CHRONICLES (Novels):

  Book One: Space Knight Denxeiter

  Book Two: Space Dragon Allepexxis