Star Force: Ascension (SF27)

by Aer-ki Jyr

  Their dropship was met well beyond the city boundaries by a flight of Valeries and given priority clearance to land, allowing it to bypass the traffic flows of the higher levels and move straight through the ‘military’ airspace between cityscape and the primary shield. The Calavari fighters led the dropship to one of seven of the largest buildings in the city, each of which sat on the edge of a circle around the largest shield generator of them all, blocking all but a few access corridors into it with their bulk and representing with their design how important they knew the shield was to the survival of the city and their defense plans.

  Paul would consider this a challenge, Morgan thought, given his penchant for orbital bombardment, as the dropship set down and she stowed the datapad away. Picking up her helmet she walked aft and caught the ramp as it just began to lower. The Knight took two large steps and caught up with her, hovering off her right shoulder as both came down into the planet’s atmosphere with their helmets on and alert for trouble, though expecting none in the Calavari stronghold.

  An honor guard, some twenty men strong, was waiting for them bearing rifles and wearing red/gold garb, but no shield generators. They eyed the two Humans while holding positions, wanting to see the green legend in person, but also shocked by the size of the Knight. He stood as tall as the shorter Calavari and, though he only had two arms, looked stalky enough to have considerable strength beneath his armor. His shield was also equally impressive and large, standing as tall as Morgan and more than three times as wide with the Star Force emblem etched in gold on the otherwise pristine white shield.

  “Welcome, Archon Morgan,” a differently dressed Calavari said that didn’t appear to be a soldier. He was also a few inches shorter than the Knight. “We are grateful you could join us.”

  “I have duties to attend to, so this had better be important,” she said as he led the pair forward, with the honor guard pacing them on either side.

  “I have heard stories of your recent ‘duties’ and the invaluable aid you have been providing us. Trust me when I say we do not wish to misuse your abilities, but there are grave concerns that all fleet commanders need to confer over.”

  “We could have conferred over comms…why the face to face?”

  “An emissary arrived with the Hycre, and they did not want to risk exposing them over comms.”

  “Emissary from whom?”

  “I will let them inform you of the details. I am not permitted to speak of it outside of council chambers.”

  “Very well,” Morgan said as they entered a rooftop lift big enough to carry a couple of Valeries. Actually, that probably was what it was for.

  “I can tell you that the meeting will take place in one and a half hours. There is an issue with the Kvash’s accommodations that we need to rectify first. You can either wait in quarters or in the summit chamber?”

  “Chamber,” Morgan said without hesitation as the elevator bottomed out on a huge internal hangar with row upon row of Valeries, some of which the Archon spotted as the variants Mark had proposed them building.

  The Calavari ambassador nodded approvingly, and led them along the wall to a smaller lift where all but two of the honor guard departed them. The five remaining individuals stuffed themselves into the transport chamber and were whisked down through the building to a restricted administration level.

  Morgan noted that the Calavari walking around the halls were a mixture of males and females, with her Knight escort able to look down on almost all of them. She guessed the largest Calavari were more valuable as soldiers while the weaker took on support rolls, unless there were also some size enhancements involved.

  After a considerable amount of walking they entered a large room…and large was an understatement. There was a holoprojector in the center with a galaxy filling most of the airspace around which there were dozens of chambers that Morgan recognized as used for the races that couldn’t breathe the Calavari air. Three of them appeared to be in use, while two tables with chairs were set up on the floor, one of which was full of Calavari, all of whom stood when the Humans entered.

  “Welcome, Star Force,” one of them said, standing far taller than the rest. “If it has not already been said, I offer our thanks for your assistance in the battles here. Your fleet has been invaluable in breaking the blockade of Sri’ka. I also thank you for the possession of the three jumpships. I promise we will make use of them, one way or another.”

  “Actually, there are four,” Morgan pointed out. “Your troops are securing another one presently.”

  The Calavari blinked. “I was not informed of this. Where did you get another one?”

  “We tracked down one that had fled, and through some serious naval strategy managed to clip its wings before it could run again. Your transports have been offloading prisoners for more than a day now.”

  The Calavari snapped the fingers on his lower right hand and pointed one of his attendants away to fetch information, then bowed his head towards Morgan. “You do not disappoint, Archon. Might I ask what your personal kill count is at?”

  “I don’t have an accurate number, but ammunition wise I’ve used up more than 10,000 rounds, so I’d say a few thousand at least. Can you tell me what’s going on or do we have to wait for the others?”

  “The Hycre are already here,” he said, pointing to a chamber with the windows obscured for privacy reasons. “The Kvash will be along shortly. It seems we heated their chamber too hot for their liking and it will take some time to cool. Our techs built it yesterday and including ample heating elements, but no cooling units…thus we’re having to let the thermals bleed off gradually.”

  “Why not pull an atmospheric purge?”

  “We have, it is the framework that is retaining the heat.”

  “And the other chamber?”

  The opaqueness of the Hycre window disappeared and the floating, mohawk-headed gasbags came into view, speaking through a computerized translator.

  A GUEST WITH VALUABLE INFORMATION

  “What race?” Morgan asked bluntly.

  NUMERION

  “You wouldn’t know them,” the Calavari answered before she could ask the question. “Neither do we, but they have knowledge of the Nestafar.”

  “What kind of knowledge?”

  WE SHARE SEVERAL WORLDS WITH THEM, a different computerized voice said as an individual moved up to the window of the other compartment.

  Or more accurately, swam.

  “Son of a bitch,” Morgan said, walking around the holoprojector and up to the window to get a better look, staring into the glowing eyes of a mermaid.

  “What is wrong?” the Calavari asked, alarmed at Morgan’s sudden change in demeanor.

  Morgan pointed at the window of the fish tank. “You and I need to have a talk…in private.”

  CONCERNING WHAT MATTER?

  Morgan shook her helmeted head. “In private only.”

  The Calavari walked up behind Morgan, curious but respectful. “The adjacent chamber can be sealed off and a direct line of communication can be established between the two.”

  “Secure or monitored?”

  “Secured internally. You choose the access from inside. The controls are labeled in the trade language.”

  “Are we still waiting on the Kvash?”

  The lead Calavari glanced back at one of his subordinates and got a gestured response. “Yes, you have time.”

  “Good,” Morgan said, a bit huffy. “Stand guard,” she told the Knight as she stepped into the empty chamber and sealed the clear door. Inside, the wall next to the tank became transparent while the outer one went opaque, shielding the other races from viewing the mermaid.

  Morgan played around with the controls on her end, finally getting the front wall/door to likewise black out and the comm channel set to only transmit between the two chambers.

  WHAT RACE ARE YOU?

  “Human…but you may have an unpleasant reaction when I take my helmet off. I promise you we are not your
enemy, Elarioni.”

  The mermaid visibly squirmed, her green hair jumping up in front of her face as she jerked backwards. HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT NAME?

  “You are hiding, I know, which was why I did not want to reveal your secret to the others. I have met one of your kind. She now lives with my people and is teaching us many things about underwater habitats and combat. We call her Ariel, and we rescued her from the Cajdital. They had claimed her as a trophy and kept her captive aboard one of their ships.”

  The Elarioni swam close to the window separating air from water. WHY DO YOU CAUTION ME TO SEEING YOUR FACE? WHO ARE YOU?

  In answer, Morgan unsealed and removed her helmet…but the Elarioni didn’t so much as blink.

  I DO NOT KNOW YOUR RACE.

  “I assume you remember the V’kit’no’sat?”

  Again, she jerked…and this time Morgan could see panic in her eyes.

  The Archon held up a calming hand. “Relax. They are our enemy as well, and we are also hiding from them. Our world was originally one of their colonies, abandoned during a civil war. My ancestors were left behind. We were their slaves, and if they should find us again they will kill us all, same as they will your kind. Our allies do not know of this, nor do they know of the V’kit’no’sat. We believe they have pulled back closer to the galactic core, but we do not know exactly where they are. And we know better than to hope that they have somehow been destroyed.”

  The Elarioni slowly floated back towards the glass.

  I KNOW OF THE V’KIT’NO’SAT ONLY FROM STORIES. THEY ARE THE REASON WE HAVE TAKEN ANOTHER NAME. OUR SISTER WITH YOU, FROM WHAT WORLD DID SHE COME?

  “I do not recall the name, nor would it probably mean anything to you. She told us the Elarioni survivors split up as they were running, hoping that at least one group would escape the V’kit’no’sat pursuit. They did, but the Cajdital assaulted their world. Past that point she had no memory.”

  WILL YOU RETURN HER TO US?

  “As valuable as she has become to us, yes, we will. But our territory is far from here, and the Hycre had to transport my fleet in order for us to arrive soon enough to make a difference. If you live in Nestafar territory I think we will have problems, but we will try to work something out. But while we’re on the subject, how do you and the Nestafar coexist?”

  WE ARE WATER DWELLERS. THEY ARE AIR DWELLERS. WE SHARE A FEW WORLDS BUT WE DO NOT INTERACT. THEY DO NOT HAVE THE POWER TO DESTROY US SO THEY LEAVE US ALONE. WE TOLERATE THEM BECAUSE THEIR PRESENCE HIDES OURS. WE ARE GHOSTS ON THEIR WORLD AND SAFE FROM PRYING EYES.

  “Why are you here?”

  YOUR ARIEL IS NOT THE ONLY SISTER THAT HAS BEEN FOUND. WE KNOW THE CAJDITAL KILLED MANY OF THEM. THE NESTAFAR HAVE ALLIED WITH THE CAJDITAL. THIS WE CANNOT TOLERATE. WE WANT THE NESTAFAR GONE FROM OUR WORLDS BUT WE DO NOT HAVE THE MEANS TO EVICT THEM. YOU DO.

  “What kind of intelligence you do have pertaining to this system? I got the impression that there was something urgent.”

  WE MONITOR THEIR MOVEMENTS ON THE WORLDS WE HOLD. WE ALSO MONITOR THEIR PRIMITIVE TECHNOLOGY. WE KNOW THEIR PLANS. THEY ARE SENDING NEW FLEETS TO TAKE MANY SYSTEMS. THIS IS BUT ONE. ONE THAT THEY BELIEVE THEY HAVE TO TAKE THUS IT IS IMPERATIVE THAT THEY DO NOT. THEIR BATTLE PLANS FOR 39 STAR SYSTEMS CENTER HERE. DENY THEM THIS SYSTEM AND YOU DENY THEM THE SURROUNDING TERRITORY.

  “I think I understand now,” Morgan said, putting her helmet back on. “Your secret is safe with us. I trust ours is safe with you?”

  WE HAVE A MUTUAL ENEMY. IF THEY ARE IN THE CORE AS YOU SAY BRINGING THEM OUT TO DESTROY YOU WILL LIKEWISE INCREASE THE ODDS OF THEM DISCOVERING US.

  “Not quite the heartfelt assurance I was looking for, but I’ll take it,” Morgan said sarcastically. “How long until this system is reinforced?”

  I WAS SURPRISED THE HYCRE GOT ME HERE BEFOREHAND.

  “Wonderful,” Morgan said, very much wanting to be back up on her ship.

  I WILL ASSIST YOU WITH THE DEFENSE OF THIS SYSTEM.

  “How?”

  WE HAVE ACCESS TO THEIR TECHNOLOGY, the Elarioni reminded her.

  8

  Captain Wilkinson was waiting for her again in the hangar bay when her dropship arrived back onboard the Red Ranger, but this time their conversation was brief.

  “Recall the O’Neill and Optimus Prime and have all four warships prepare for redeployment. We’re going after the Nestafar fleet before they can get reinforcements, which according to intel suggests any day now. Coordinate with the Hycre, we’re using their battle plan. Alert me if the fireworks start before I get to the bridge, I’m going to be off the grid for a while,” she said, walking abnormally fast. So fast that Wilkinson had to jog to keep up, and he noted that she hadn’t removed her helmet.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “In a hurry. Don’t let me hold you up.”

  Wilkinson understood the dismissal, but not the cause for it, so he let her go and headed back up to the bridge to get their fleet reorganized as she headed over to the sanctum at a brisk walk that turned into a slow run halfway there. When she started having to dodge crew in the hallways she just said to hell with it and took off as fast as she could manage and hoping the physical activity would help.

  By the time she got to the sanctum doors she already had her right arm piece removed and smacked her palm down on the scanner, impatiently waiting for it to identify her and unlock the door as she used all her willpower to keep herself contained. When the doors finally parted she tossed the armor piece inside and started disconnecting the rest as quickly as she could.

  The sanctum doors closed and locked behind her, with a trail of green armor segments leading further inside and over to one of the sparring chambers. There her casual uniform, shoes, socks, and underwear followed leading up to the center of the circular padded chamber where Morgan dropped to her knees and finally let go the energy that had been slowly building inside her for the past three hours.

  It can out in spurts, sending random waves out from different parts of her body and sending the air within the chamber into a chaotic whirlwind. Her clothes jumped off the ground and were kicked around, part of which flew back out the sparring chamber’s door while her shoes rolled over a couple of times, too heavy to be lifted up by the moving air.

  The cascade of energy releases took 12 seconds to work their way out of Morgan’s body, then left her feeling deflated and overly relieved as she sagged to the ground, crying silent tears from the effort. Her body felt raw, as if the energy had caused damage on the way out. She made a mental note not to let it build to such levels again, meaning, unfortunately, that she was going to have to remain in or near the sanctum until she got a handle on this.

  The Archon glanced down at her naked body, wondering why she’d taken her clothes off…or for that matter her armor. She didn’t have a good reason, but somehow felt it was appropriate, like the layers would have interfered with the process…though she didn’t know if that was a product of her imagination or not.

  Then again, it might have ripped her clothes off anyway. So at least she had them to put back on…if she could find them.

  Morgan got to her feet, then feeling so dizzy she almost passed out, just told herself to forget it and sat back down, sinking an inch or so into the padded floor as she felt a rush of ambrosia fatigue wash over her, confirming in her mind the fact that whatever this energy was it fed off her ambrosia very quickly. She’d been down on the planet for the better part of a day, but her ambrosia levels shouldn’t have been below half by the time she got back…and it felt like the little mystery nodules in her body had just sucked up what was left in her bloodstream.

  “Uh,” she said, laying back and staring up at the ceiling feeling like she’d just finished a hard workout. “Wonderful timing. I’ve got the largest naval battle we’ve seen to date to lead and I’m stuck with a malfunctioning body. Can’t do this when they need me…so what are my options?” she asked, thinking out loud as her head swirled with a mixture of familiar and ne
w sensations, all of which were fatigue related.

  “Control it, or bleed it out…but I don’t know when the Nestafar are coming to bleed it out, unless I can do it quickly when the time comes. No, check that. I need a clear head and this won’t do. I have to get this under control.”

  Morgan rubbed her forehead, part of her just wanting to go to sleep.

  “Focus, girl…and sit up,” she told herself, crunching her abs and heaving her head up off the mat uncomfortably.

  “Wibbly wobbly timey whimey,” she said with a laugh, surprised by how much that exertion had taken out of her. Even on her most extreme workouts she didn’t get this dizzy.

  “Ambrosia,” she said, finding the need to vocalize her thoughts, otherwise they’d be lost in the maelstrom of numbing sensations swirling through her mind. “Walk.”

  As if coaching herself through the next few minutes, Morgan focused on the simple task of getting her feet underneath her and standing. With a pounding headache that nearly unbalanced her she walked a few steps over towards the door and stopped, looking at the ceiling to try and let a wave of nausea pass. When it had partially settled she walked a few steps more and found her shoes.

  She considered putting them on, but the idea of bending over got her mind calculating the possibilities of her retaining her balance and she decided the odds weren’t too good of that so she just walked around her shoes, taking very tiny steps out of the sparring chamber. She stopped several times, but eventually made her way through the empty sanctum to the kitchen where she pulled open several cabinets and began dragging out various items and setting them on a nearby table one at a time.

  After making several trips back and forth she sat her nude butt down on the chair and cradled her head in her hands for a moment, desperately wanting to drift off into a comatose, pain-racked sleep. She held her head for more than five minutes before she woke herself, thinking it had only been a few seconds. Forcing herself into action she opened a water bottle and sucked down half of it before she even realized how thirsty she was.