by T. W. Embry
With a good stretch and a loud purr the feline answered, “I doubt you can pronounce my name, as most non-felines can’t. What do you call that pleasure mech of yours?”
“Her name is Tasha. But I can’t call you that!” I stammered, embarrassment coloring my cheeks.
This only seemed to encourage the feline, for with a wide grin she said “Well now, Tasha it is, until you call me wife,” the feline’s purring was louder still as she started breaking down the camp.
Stunned, I thought to myself as I stowed the sleeping furs on my cycle,What have I gotten myself into now? Damn Snarth’s hide! It is all his fault I am in this mess. I do not know exactly how but it has to be his fault. If I had parents, I can just imagine the conversation, “Hi mom, dad this is my wife Tasha. I named her after a pleasure mech I own because you probably can’t pronounce her real name. No human can.” Now that would be a family party to remember; if I had parents and a family or even a party to go to. Which I do not, I am an orphan. I was raised by the state with the minimum of effort and cost and with the maximum amount of discipline. So who is left to object on my side? It only mattered that the passion we shared was real. We will sort out the rest later.
The search of the second day’s grid offered little change of scenery at first but mountains were nearing, rising at a steady pace, their white peaks visible in the distance. My confidence on the cycle continued to improve as well as my riding skill. Each valley or ravine had to be scanned for an entrance to the underground city and the twists and turns came easier and easier.
As the mountains fell behind us, the terrain gave way to an area of rushing streams and large lakes. This slowed our progress as the density of the water affected the ground penetrating sensors’ range. Finally, the feline, now known to me as Tasha, signaled for a lunch break. She could not have picked a more idyllic setting. She parked her cycle beside a stream under a large growth of native vegetation that resembled a huge oak tree, giving us shade from the now intense sunlight.
After satisfying herself that no danger lurked anywhere near, the feline began to unpack lunch from a variety of containers, making me wonder how she had gotten so much food into such a small space. As I spread the sleeping furs down in the soft green grass beside the stream, Tasha the feline joined me. We quietly ate the lunch she had prepared, both enjoying the quiet beauty around us.
Later as we lounged after having shared the last of the Belgian ale, I felt my eyes growing heavy and the thought of a nap seemed so appealing, when a sudden realization popped into my mind. She had planned this whole thing!
My body’s reaction to that thought jostled the feline master who was curled up with her head on my chest and she sprang up ready to fight. “What’s wrong, what did you hear?” she hissed, the hair standing up along her spine, tail twitching, her blade appearing in her hand at the ready.
Embarrassed by my reaction to such a now obvious fact I answered, “Just a bad dream, nothing to worry about, sorry I startled you.”
Sheathing her blade Tasha the feline said “Time to get on with our search pattern anyway. Snarth will want an update on our progress very soon.”
“I hope we have something to report,” I said. Silently we packed up our gear, the interlude slain by the mission.
PART SIX
Is My Army Ready?
“You summoned me, my Queen?” said the General of the Ones’ army, his chest armor scraping the ground so deep was his bow as he waited to be acknowledged. I shall let him cower a bit longer, thought the Queen to herself as she preened her antennae, pausing in her acknowledgment of the General; He must not forget his place.
“Yes General, I have some questions that must be answered so I can determine when the battle to protect our planet can begin.”
“You have but to ask, my Queen, and I shall answer or die trying,” answered the General in a formal tone.
“You may yet have that honor,” responded the Queen coldly, “unless you have the answers I want to hear.”
The General’s armor scraped even harder on the audience chamber floor, his fear scents flooding the space between them. At last he is in fear of his life; now I can trust his answers without joining our minds, thought the Queen.
“Tell me General, what is the status of my army?”
“My Queen, you have 10,000 ships and 1,000,000 soldiers who will gladly die in your name,” exclaimed the General.
“That is NOT what I asked you General. I need to know if my army is ready to fight the unbelievers, not platitudes,” rebuked the Queen in her sharpest tone.
The General knew she was not far from one of the violent rages she was so feared for. A fresh cloud of fear scent filled the Queen’s audience chamber. The General truly feared for his life, certain that the Queen would dispatch him at any moment in her anger, imagining the Queen’s descending fangs and preparing himself for death.
To the General’s surprise the Queen calmed herself, preening her antennae. Perhaps I will live to serve my Queen in battle after all, thought the General, and his fear scents dissipated. “Now that I have your attention General, I will ask you once more. Is my army ready to fight?”
Carefully choosing his words the General answered: “My Queen, I have drilled your army to perfection. Your ships are as powerful as they can be with the technology we have. Nevertheless, we have only ourselves to drill against. One can only sharpen a blade so much before the edge becomes useless.”
“I assume you have a battle plan ready for me?” asked the Queen.
“Yes my Queen,” answered the General, who was now hopeful he would live a little longer.
“Well, What is it? Or must I guess?” snapped the Queen, her anger rising once again. Males were so incompetent in social matters, thought the Queen.
“My Queen, I have sent you detailed plans. Did you not get them? SOMEONE will pay for this with their lives and the lives of their nest mates,” roared the General.
“Calm yourself General, they were given to me but I want to hear them from you, not read them off an official scroll,” commanded the Queen, bringing the General back under her control.
“Of course my Queen, please forgive my outburst. I am so sure of victory that I forget myself. Our scouts have located a planet two light units away. This planet has a large orbiting space dock and repair facility. It is guarded by only 200 military vessels. Not even combined can they match the firepower of just one of our battleships. We do not know if it has any allies or who they might be. The space dock will allow us to build even more ships and the general staff and I think this will be an easy first target.”
“General, need I remind you that overconfidence is a fool’s errand. My army is untested in battle and we do not know the full capabilities of those 200 ships,” said the Queen patiently, rebuking the General for his eagerness. “When it is time to strike, there must be no doubt of the outcome. Our very existence depends on both subtlety and stealth.”
“Of course, my Queen, I apologize for my seeming lack of caution,” said the General, “but we do know the capabilities of the ships guarding both the planet and the space dock. Our scouts observed the craft in question, pursuing and destroying what must have been an attempted theft of one of their own ships by parties unknown. I assure you my Queen, their ships’ capabilities are no match for ours,” boasted the General.
“Be that as it may, General, how are the efforts to block communications coming?” asked the Queen
“The scientists have solved the last puzzle and a working prototype is being tested. I should have the results by sunrise,” answered the General.
“The season of the Sun begins in seven sunrises, I will inform the people then that the war is about to begin when I speak from the temple of the Sun at the zenith of the First Day ceremony. General, prepare my army for departure once we have the results from the prototype. But know this: I will hold you and your nest mates personally responsible for the outcome of this battle. I will feast on all of you if you fail.
“Now leave me to my meditations,” commanded the Queen, dismissing the general.
PART SEVEN
The Search Continues
Rowl and the Irishman’s search had also been fruitless. As the forbidden planet’s star disappeared for the day, they made camp in a clump of vegetation that resembled trees next to a small lake. As Rowl began unpacking the supplies, the Irishman began to gather wood for a fire.
“Don’t make that fire too big,” cautioned Rowl.
“Relax, will you, there isn’t anything larger than an insect on this planet,” grumped the Irishman.
“That we know of,” growled Rowl, “So keep the fire small.”
“You’re acting like a scared little female,” grumbled the Irishman under his breath.
“One who can kick your ass any day of the week.” Rowl growled.
“Yeah, you and whose army?” scoffed the Irishman as he threw a twig at the canine master.
“Me, myself and I are all the army I need,” boasted Rowl. “Now shut up and start cooking dinner.”
“Who died and left you in charge?” asked the Irishman as he began unpacking the rations they had brought for dinner.
“We can wrestle for it,” suggested Rowl.
“Wrestle for what?” asked the Irishman.
“The loser cooks and does the cleanup,” suggested Rowl.
“Oh no, we are not going to do that again. Last time you broke my nose, and it will be a while before we have access to a bacta tank and I have to think of my stunning good looks.”
“Good looks my ass, I have seen better looking rodents,” retorted Rowl.
“Well what about that pleasure girl on Alto Prime last year? She thought I was handsome. In fact, she said ‘noble looking’,” said an indignant Irishman. This comment started Rowl laughing so hard that tears came to his eyes as he rolled in the grass.
“What’s so funny?” demanded the Irishman. This just made Rowl laugh that much harder, completely ignoring the look of hurt on his friend’s face.
Finally, after regaining some semblance of control, Rowl said, “That is what she says to all her customers.” Then seeing his friend’s unhappy look, Rowl tried to sooth his friend’s ire. “Here, have some ale; it will take your mind off her.” Reluctantly the Irishman accepted the offered tankard of ale.
They sat in silence for quite some time, sipping their ale and watching the flames flickering in the campfire.
“Why did Snarth have to give her to Tom?” asked the Irishman bitterly.
“Because I don’t think he expected you to fall in love with a pleasure bio-mech,” answered Rowl gently. “If the stealth master’s plan works, Tasha will be free. Hell, maybe Tom will give her to you. I am sure he doesn’t know you are in love with her.”
“I don’t think Tom has any idea that the stealth master is after him,” said the dejected Irishman.
“He will after tonight!” said Rowl, hoping to cheer up his friend, “Or he is not as smart as I think he is. Now finish your ale; we have to get an early start in the morning, unless you really want to tie one on. However I think riding that bike with a hangover is not a good idea,” growled Rowl.
“Neither do I,” added the Irishman as he downed the last of his tankard and kicked down the fire.
PART EIGHT
Death to the Unbelievers
On the command ship, the General of the Queen’s army watched his console intently. When his forces were in position he activated his holo projector, it was time to ask the Queen’s permission to attack the unsuspecting planet at the center of his swarm of ships. There would be complete surprise and no way for his prey to call for help.
As the hologram figure of the Queen materialized in front of the General, he bowed, scraping his chest armor on the deck of the bridge of the command ship.
“My Queen, the time has come, all of your forces are in place and all enemy communications have been nullified by the disruption field. We only await your command to begin our attack and bring glory to you and the giver of life the Sun. Death to the enemy!” roared the General.
“Swarm them, General,” commanded the Queen. “Capture the leaders then bring them to me, feast on the rest.”
“Yes, my Queen, from this day forth your enemies will flee in terror at the mere mention of your name,” he proclaimed.
The battle for the planet was nearly over before it began as the Queen’s fleet swarmed the enemy planet from every direction, destroying all but a few defensive ships within seconds, leaving only the capture of the planet’s leaders for the General to complete his mission and fulfill the Queen’s orders.
Capturing the leaders did present a problem to the General. Which unit was to have the honor of combat in the Queen’s name first, caused quite a disturbance in the ranks. It was decided that the Queen should bestow that honor and thereby set precedence for future engagements.
As the General waited for the Queen’s decision via hologram, his commanders whipped their assault troops into a vicious frenzy. Battle cries resounded through each of the troop carriers so loudly that it resulted in confusion as to which unit the Queen actually selected. Once order had been restored, the attack on the enemy’s position began with the most senior troops spearheading the attack, bearing the Queen’s banner.
“My Queen,” began the General as the Queen’s image solidified in front of him, “Victory is yours.”
“Well done General. Was secrecy maintained?” questioned the Queen.
“No transmissions or ships escaped. We have captured the leaders as you commanded. Your vanguard is feasting on the rest,” answered the General.
“Very well, bring the leaders before me at once. Deploy my fleet to intercept any incoming ships. Capture, question, acquire any new technology, then refit any ships attempting to enter my new nest. Have the technicians retrieve all data on neighboring systems from the computer systems and bring it to me immediately. You may congratulate your troops on a job well done,” said the Queen.
Later, on the Ones’ home world, the leader of the captured repair station stood before the Queen, defiant, unbeaten. The Queen motioned to one of the guards for him to be brought closer so she could be heard.
In galactic standard, the Queen said, “I am the Queen of my people. We have captured your facility as the first step in bringing the way of the Sun to your people.”
“Why did you attack us?”’ asked the still defiant leader.
“To prevent you from attacking us, why else?” answered the Queen, puzzled. “Once you come to understand the way of the Ones you will feel differently.”
“My people have a great many warships, we will never submit. Once they find out about this attack they will come for vengeance.”
“And from just where exactly will they come?” asked the Queen.
“I will never tell you!” yelled the now panicked leader.
“Bring him closer, I must see his mind,” commanded the Queen to the guards restraining the leader.
Leaning forward the Queen stretched out her antennae to his head, feeling the leader’s mind, taking control quickly. He tried to free himself from the Queen’s mind, its only result was a quicker death. Learning all she could from him, the Queen feasted on his life force, dissolving him at the molecular level in front of the other prisoners. His screams of terror and pain echoing off the walls. “Bring me the next one,” she commanded, preening her antenna. She meant to continue her feast.
PART NINE
SSlice Solves another Riddle
Snarth and SSlice’s search quadrant also failed to produce the underground city. The light had begun to wane, signaling the approaching end of the day’s search. It was too hazardous to fly the cycles at night in this kind of terrain. It was time to make camp and Snarth called a halt at a suitable spot. Sensors had located a small cave near a water source. This would be as good a place as any, thought Snarth.
As they dismounted, Snarth asked SSlice: “Ok if I build a sssmall fire
?”
“If that is what you want to do then do it, as it is all the same to me,” answered SSlice.
“I guessss the rumor about your people’sss aversssion to open flame is jussst that,” hissed Snarth as he gathered burnable material that was strewn around the cave’s entrance.
“No it is true, however I do not share that fear. In fact the warmth will be welcome,” answered SSlice
“You unpack the gear and I will get started on supper,” said Snarth.
“I doubt that you can fix anything over that fire that I might like,” whispered SSlice. “Fortunately for me I packed a supply of suitable food. You may roast whatever meat you brought for yourself,” whispered SSlice.
“ssSSlice, I have known your family a long time,” hissed Snarth. “Certainly long enough to know your own very particular dietary requirements. It hurtsss me that you think that I was offering you ruined, roasssted meat,” Snarth hissed with his most sincere fake hurt feelings look. “In fact, I brought thisss package jussst for you,” he hissed as he handed SSlice a box of live, wiggling worms from SSlice’s home planet. A delicacy and a feast fit for a king.
Much later, as the fire died down to embers that struggled to illuminate the cave entrance, and after much good smoke and ale, Snarth asked, “Tell me about what the Onesss did to your people, ssSSlice.”
With a breezy sigh, SSlice began his story.
“It started with rumors about disappearing merchant ships, then fleets of warships gone, missing without a trace. No communications of any kind, they just vanished. We began to lose contact with other distant species with which we traded. Communication would just stop, often in mid transmission. We would never hear from them again.”
“We gathered what few warships we had and joined forces with several other neighboring species. It was doomed from the start. The lack of trust was as bad as the incompatible forces, tactics and hardware. The Ones swept through our defensive fleet leaving behind only ruined hulks of our best battleships. Their shielding technology was impenetrable by our weapons,” SSlice whispered.