by Bobbi Ross
"What the Falks is that –."
Chapter 1
"The Lexnalt is hailing us Captain," Ensign Chandles announced.
The low murmur of voices on the bridge quieted. I nodded my head at the ensign. "On view screen."
The face of a gruffly handsome man with black hair and deep dark inset eyes greeted me with a solemn look. I would address his pain, but today, we all had something to celebrate. "Captain Ramirez, thank you. Without you and your crew we wouldn't have been able to get anywhere near that asteroid or the Novokin shipbuilding facility. Your people did a fantastic job of disrupting the security net."
He waved me off as if he hadn't done anything more than scoot over on a park bench at lunch so I could sit down too. "Captain, I can never repay you for what you did for my sister, her family and everybody on the mining colony. My nephew still talks about you, and your creature there," he smirked and jutted his chin at the 6'8" wall of muscle that stood just behind me.
Trex let out a low rumbling growl.
Captain Ramirez raised a defensive hand. "No disrespect meant there my big friend, if not for you and yours they all would've died, including my favorite nephew. I can never repay you for saving them." He stopped to wipe his eyes. His sister's family was among those able to take shelter in the escape pods we launched to the planet. We waited in respectable silence for the man to compose himself from wherever it was his mind had taken him. When he spoke again, his voice quavered. "Excuse me Captain, I had a lot more friends on the planet that didn't make it."
Captain Ramirez and several ex-Protectorate captains had found me after the incident with the mining colony. His sister’s account along with other first hand testimonials of what actually transpired from the surviving colonists had spread through the galaxy’s underground network like wildfire. From freighter to transport, transport to outpost, Katlen's story was rallying the old Protectorate, thieves, smugglers and free enterprise ships alike. Rallying them, to us. To me.
"We're sorry for your loss Captain." We had a front row seat when that madman Asmot destroyed the planet's atmosphere, killing most of its inhabitants. We would've died too, if not for the selfless sacrifice of a good, old friend. The image of Liam setting his jaw and uttering his last words to me before he launched his crew-abandoned ship into the heart of Asmot’s monstrosity stabbed my heart. I found myself rubbing my own eyes. Then I raised my head to Ramirez and assured him, "You've honored their memories today by making sure the Alliance can't build any more monstrosities like the one that destroyed your sister's mining colony."
The captain of the cargo ship choked up again and he motioned his officer to cut the communication. I jumped to my feet, "Captain... would it be possible to talk to my friend for a moment?"
Captain Ramirez was only able to nod as he moved out of view. A moment later a small man with thick, salt-and-pepper hair stepped into the screen. His smile always made him look like he’d just finished a happy song.
He waited for what I presumed was for Captain Ramirez to be out of earshot, then turned back to me and blurted, "Holy prak Caspia, you pulled it off! I don't know how in the eight infernos you got this ragtag group together to stand up to the Alliance, but you did it. I always knew you were bucking for that admiral ship." His grin was as wide as the horizon and twice as infectious.
"No way on Astoria's green plains Brantz," I balked in reply. "They'd have to drag me out of here in a box before I'd take that promotion and give up my ship. Anyway, I've got a bit of a score to settle with you." He raised two bushy caterpillars at that. Looked like I’d caught him off guard. I guess there's a first for everything.
"Seems there was a card game about two months before the invasion. You remember, on Captain Ross's ship?" I eyed him speculatively, not willing to tip my hand quite yet.
"Yeah," he stammered, clearly blowing plasma exhaust up my ass. The Brantz Paulson I knew couldn't remember what he had for breakfast, let alone a card game over three years ago. I tried not to laugh as he screwed his face up, racking his brain before he mumbled, "But I don't recall owing you any money."
"That's right Brantz. Because I owe you. Don't remember the last hand? Your flush queen high to my full house?"
Recognition dinged and his eyes widened. "Yeah, I remember that. I believe you owe me 200 credits," he said, pleased with himself.
"Well Brantz, never let said that Caspia Jones welches on a debt. I figured after all this time there's been a bit of interest compounded too, so I want to pay it in full now."
"What you got for me baby?" He replied, brandishing a suggestive look that made my gut split with laughter. The man flirted like a wet noodle reciting a cheesy poem.
Forced to wipe the tears from my eyes between chuckles I teased, "It might not be what you want Brantz, but it's definitely what you need. Check your view screen."
I motioned to Jaxx and the third image materialized on the screen. She was exquisite with her silver and white lines. Three years of neglect had darkened her hull, but not her spirit. I checked back on Paulson, his eyes saucers. I knew exactly how he felt, and boy she was a sight.
Now it might've been Captain Brantz Paulson's chance to cry, but he just stood there with his mouth open. I swear I saw the tiniest bit of drool drop out. He looked at me, and then back to the ship on the view screen. In the midst of the fighting and the bombings, we managed to liberate one forgotten prisoner. Her freedom long overdue. The Protectorate warbird Talon, sister ship to the Razor, was now free and in flight. Ready to welcome her captain back.
I eased back into the support cushions of my chair. I had a helluva crew, and now I had a helluva lot of my friends back.
Chapter 2
If I hadn't seen them with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believed it. It was almost like I had a brand new crew, eager and fresh out of the Academy. Peering up from the repair schedule, I took delight in pure a captain's moment. I heard about these while still in officer training. In all honesty I can't say I ever gave them a second thought. Watching all members of my crew working in tandem filled me with pride. Their steps were wide with purpose, their movements fluid, their eyes focused and shone with eager anticipation. There was no bickering, no lazy commentary, not a sliver of negativity. There's no finer moment for a captain, serving with a crew that's united in both cause and heart. I felt I needed to savor the feeling of pride and comradery.
Then the damned reality of our situation burrowed into my moment. It crept in like weed vines pushing tendrils of pain and darkness into and around my good feelings. Until it choked the life out of them. We all heard the cries of the dead. Demanding justice. We worked hard to bring vengeance to the dead to protect the innocents and our way of life.
Anya flew by on her long legs, yammering about something on her data pad and shouting off commands while the previous slaves we had liberated just over a month ago hurried after her. Most had decided to remain on board since then. We were fortunate to learn that two of them had trained as ship's mechanics. Anya had absorbed them on her team. Looking at them now, it's like they'd always been part of my crew.
She caught me eyeing her. Gave me a terse nod and then picked up her whirlwind diagnostic tour of the ship. Anya never showed it, but I knew this was hard on her too. She hadn't heard from her brother Arok since the first attack of the invasion. He was a commander in the Southern Cross Protectorate fleet; a group of pilots who specialized in cryo-sleep deep space missions. To this day she didn't know if he was alive or dead. Sadder still, she might never know.
My green friend Jaxx sat behind his console. He couldn't do much more than that these days, what with his bellies being ready to pop. Any day now I'd be a godmother to two bouncing little budlings. If we were lucky, someday we might even be able to take them to see their home world. All of the Protectorate worlds had suffered massive destruction under the Novokin invasion. The Floturans’ plight was most dour. The few survivors were sold into slavery. To once again have to face such a horrific reality was…
I stole another glance at my first officer cooing at his bellies while Julie held each baby bump feeling for his budlings to kick. I'd have to be dead and vaporized before I let that happen to my godchildren.
My eyes lingered on the young female Terran. She's not even from this galaxy, and happens to have the strangest shade of hair I'd ever seen. Red like lava from the depths of the infamous Hellaschpring Volcano on Vesuvius Prime. Julie has been a tremendous comfort to Jaxx these last few weeks. We rescued her and several other slaves from the Lizardian slavers while on a mission on Deep Proteus space station. It was about five weeks ago. A rescue that put us in the direct crosshairs of the Alliance. To avoid capture and possible death we committed our first act of piracy in the outer rim sector.
Regardless of Julie’s relaxed, gentle countenance and youthful energy she more than proved she could handle herself under pressure. Her brilliant plan and antics helped us to confront the prime minister and oust him as a traitor to his people. Without even touching him. I can't believe she even had me going during the interrogation. I guess I shouldn’t be. She's the one who kicked us all in action back on Deep Proteus space station five. Her defiant spirit inspired us. Refusing to cower at the abusive ministrations of her Lizardian slaver.
Chapter 3
The heavy metal door opposite him opened. He turned an unconcerned eye to the demure woman who slipped in. His first impression was that he was staring down at a prey animal, weakness personified. Her steely serpentine gaze met his and the corners of his tight sneer tugged upward. He had made the right choice as usual.
He went out of his way to avoid most dealings with her kind. Yet he found this dark haired woman and her penetrating eyes striking. At least as much as they could be in an inferior species. The Terran woman stood at attention after entering his quarters. She waited for him to motion her toward the single metal chair across from him in the spartan room.
"I assume you know why you're here Subcommander?"
A terse nod her only reply. Asmot appreciated this female even more. No need to waste time with frivolities.
His voice sounded relaxed by years of training. "Captain Jones started out as a mere nuisance, a gnat on a Brochain elephant's ass. But now it seems that gnat has gotten herself a small fleet. Still little more than an annoyance, but one that we need to squash."
"I heard that she gave you a beating during the incident with the mining colony," the striking woman interrupted. A sly smile was barely visible on her lips but evident in her eyes.
Curious, that he found her insolence both annoying and provocative. He dismissed her remark with a slow blink of his eyes. "With the help of another traitor she escaped. This Captain Jones' talent must lie in coercion."
"That it does Captain," the woman mused absently as if trapped in some long distant memory rather than sitting in front of the second most powerful and possibly most dangerous man in the galaxy. In a blink of an eye her countenance morphed into something tense and taught, reminding me of a cornered viper, ready to strike. Asmot found himself wondering, almost on the verge of concern if this woman across from him was armed.
Leaning in, she crossed both hands and made a show of placing them on the edge of the table as if to say be calm, I'm no threat to you. "So I've looked over the file you sent, and I know what you want me to do. My only question is, why should I?"
"Is not the glory it would bring to the Novokin Empire satisfaction enough for you?" He let the question hang out there, unattended and ultimately unanswered.
Steepling his fingers he felt a wry grin tug at the corners of his own mouth before he spoke, "I thought as much. If you assist me in this matter I will ensure that you will be the first and only of your kind to achieve the rank of captain. Not only that, you'll get a ship and crew to go with your new title."
"If I may be so bold to ask Sir, which ship will I be assigned?" The lilt in her voice, her first and only indication of deference to her superior. He found her intriguing.
Asmot waved a hand in the air, "Why any that you desire my dear, save my own and the supreme commander’s of course."
Pure malice emblazoned her dark, big, brown eyes. Pure hatred and darkness the likes of which even deep space could not rival twisted across her face. Even Asmot, the butcher of worlds who had earned the name Red Sky shuddered at the comely Terran female’s features distorting into such a grotesque, venomous visage. "I want the Razor."
Chapter 4
Regardless of how empty the ship was, I couldn't find peace. Details of the impending mission sloshed back and forth in my head. It was risky, but there was no way we could back down now. The stakes were high. There's a moment, a deciding time when regaining your freedom, even a sliver of your dignity back becomes more important than life itself. This was that kind of moment. We all felt that way. Damn the consequences. Or so we thought.
I struggled to prepare for another briefing with the other ships' captains, scheduled two hours from now. Without a personal assistant all the administrative work had fallen squarely in my lap. Ugh! I could feel the grumpy knocking at my door. Heck, even I didn't want to be around me right now.
Alone in my quarters, I dropped like a stone on my over-sized, unmade bed. One of the perks of being a captain, more space to be lonely. Lacing my fingers back behind my head I prayed for silence, but it wouldn't come. It never did. In quiet moments like this my mind always skittered back to that day; the first mind numbing images of New Astoria's destruction and the ensuing rage that followed. Skeck!
Trying to shake the images out I turned my head to the side and I focused on the picture of a young happy couple. A brown-haired young man with a kind smile and joyful eyes was looking at me through the large, glass picture frame settled on my bureau. I missed him so much.
No girl could've asked for a better father. He was always there for me. Always encouraging me, even when I was hesitant about joining the Protectorate.
"Isn't this what you’ve been dreaming about all your life?" He had reminded me. We stood there on the massive steps of the United Worlds Protectorate Senate building. It was the morning before I attended my first orientation at the Academy.
I remember not being able to look up at the building. It was so big, so humbling and stood for so much. "Yeah, but what if I don't make it? What if I'm not good enough, what if–." My voice cracked and my feet froze to the marble stairs leading up to the Great Hall.
“Hey,” he said. His hands rounded and gently tugged at my shoulders forcing me to turn his way. “Look at me sweetheart.” He held a finger to my chin, and tilted my head up to face him. He was beaming, "What if you're the best there ever was? Where will I put all the plaques and metals and vid clippings? They're the lucky ones, to have you. So let's make a deal, what if you just do your best and then we'll wait and see what happens. How does that sound kiddo?" He locked me in his big, crushing hug. His joy infectious. All was well and as it should be with the world. I hugged him back with all my might. His strength and courage infused into me.
I missed the way his stubble scratched my cheek. What wouldn't I give to smell that awful cologne he always wore because he said mother liked it. Skeck dad, I miss you. I could use your help here. I crushed the pillow I was holding in my arms, but I was still cold.
Beside him in the picture was a woman with the same hair and eyes as mine. I had but a few memories of her. My mother died shortly after the birth of my sister when I was three.
I started to breathe fast and shallow. The scream bellowed out from my throat before my brain even had a chance to register what was happening. I threw the pillow I was mashing in my hands at the wall. It ricocheted and knocked down the second picture frame on my bureau.
Oh not again. This was the second time in a month that picture frame found its way to the floor.
I leapt off the bed desperate to examine my fatal error. I lifted the frame off the floor delicately as a surgeon. The glass was already gone since its last accidental encounter with the menace that was C
aspia. The wooden frame finally cracked, splinters slashed the photo in half. I let out a long sigh, staring at the only photo I had left of my sister. I pushed the two pieces together thinking about her. We both had the same brown, unruly hair, and the same cinnamon eyes but the similarities ended there. My sister, my younger sister was taller and wispier than me, almost wiry.
We also never saw eye to eye on anything. Except for the Academy. Ever since she joined -three years after me- it seemed she was on a mission to prove she could do more, go further, do better. She wanted to prove she was better than me. I didn’t mind. I kind of enjoyed her rising to the challenge of the Academy life and I believed it not only propelled us both to be better, but grow closer. No matter what though, we were sisters.
Making captain of the Razor put a serious strain to our relationship. She never showed up for my captaincy ceremony. She’d joined the Protectorate and aspired to follow in my footsteps. But more often than not the official record stated that she "lacked the drive," and "was unwilling to put in the time or necessary hard work needed". Maybe if she’d survived, she’d have outgrown all that and be captain of her own vessel by now.
With care I removed the torn photo from the broken picture frame. I placed the pieces onto the bureau. I often wondered how and where she was when it happened or if she suffered when she died. My father’s body had at least been recovered. Some of his friends at the University had made sure it was properly dressed and cremated. I couldn’t attend his funeral, lest I be captured and killed. I would have no such closure for my sister.
Loss stabbed through my heart. I looked away. My gaze shifted across the room. I took notice of the large, ornate, metal frame sitting next to my cluttered terminal. I pushed myself off the bed, took a few steps and my shaky hands reached and picked up the frame. The word “Congratulations” was etched on the top of the square metal.