by Will Crudge
“I’m aware, officer. May we go?” Jimma raised her eyebrows to clue the man in that she expected a prompt answer.
“Yes, War Master. I’ll request a bulletin be issued to the rest of the force. That way you won’t have to be concerned about being stopped again. I doubt anyone in my department is aware of the policies regarding War Masters. I don’t think there’s ever been one here before!”
Jimma chuckled. “There have been many, but I’m likely the only one who carried a sword or had a mount with them.”
“Really? So why, may I ask, are you here in full attire?”
“Because I’m passing through. We came in a small craft, so we’ve been delayed for gate access. We never expected to step off our ship or otherwise I would have dressed more casually.” She gave him a flirty wink, and the pudgy cop seemed to swallow in response. Jimma was beautiful yet intimidating at the same time. She would have that effect on most men—and some women as well.
“I see. Well, if you run into any trouble, we’ll be here to help.” The cop tipped his patrol cap at Jimma, then again at Sasha, and turned to disappear into the crowd.
“That went better than I expected,” Sasha noted.
War Master’s shared a common spiritual origin with the Life Temple faith. Even after the schism that separated the two branches, the War Master Guild still frowned upon doing any harm to anyone—unless the preservation of peace, or the protection of the innocent was required. The bond between human and animal enabled the War Master to tap into the required levels of mental aggression that was otherwise absent in their normally heightened spiritual state of mind. This hybrid of mental clarity helped a War Master and their mount, to be nearly unstoppable in combat. However, War Masters always strived to fulfill the role of military advisor, as opposed to an active combatant. Their main calling was to embrace their love for peace, by also embracing their very human tendencies for violence. By mastering every aspect of warfare in a holistic fashion, their century-long training would enable them to advise military commanders during war. By advising against emotionally charged strategic and tactical decision making, they could influence faster fought, and less deadly conflicts. Human beings were war-like by nature, so the main goal of the guild was to not prevent the inevitable, but to minimize the horrific result of war. It is prophesied that humanity will eventually evolve to abandon war altogether. But in the meantime, humanity would have to survive long enough to achieve this great ascension.
Jimma and Sasha browsed for fresh produce, and fresh meats at least the freshest equivalent one could find in a deep space habitat. Hyper Gate Stations had to be built in open space, where the gravitational influences of astronomical bodies would be minimal. This allowed for the gates to remain stable, and for the energy shield covered taxi lanes to function with allowable tolerances. So, fresh food was scarce.
Skull, the NAV system aboard the Skull-Crusher, managed to achieve a mental link with Jimma and Sasha.
“We’ve got to hurry up and finish our excursion. We’ve expended enough mental energy as it is,” Jimma said. Her vocal words were redundant, since Sasha could feel her thought patterns. She may not know her specific thoughts but she could feel out her human companion’s intentions. They were both mentally strained. They had sensed the brain patterns of the two men who were tracking them when they’d entered the civilian sector.
It was easy to pick out the mental patterns of two individuals that weren’t the least bit surprised by their arrival in public. Their conspicuous presence was by design, after all. The volume of people focusing on them would naturally make any tailing entities feel bolder. Jimma knew if they could draw in anyone tracking them, then they could filter out the mental noise, and isolate the brainwaves that stood out. The likelihood that two men, that were obviously in better fighting shape than most civilians, shared similar thought patterns were slim to none. While everyone else seemed surprised or frightful—these two seemed determined and calm. They both realized that legit Life Temple Clergy may not be as shocked as the average person, since they would have probably spent many years practicing focused meditation. However, these two didn’t fit the mold of typical clergy. Especially since Lifers discouraged facial hair. Facial hair presented individualism that could drive a wedge between themselves and others mentally. Lifers preferred to avoid any form of vanity, as it may distract them from uniting their souls with all life, and by extension, the divine.
The mental power to track these two men was staggering for both Jimma and Sasha, so it was best to return to the relative safety of their docking assignment. Once they were aboard the LRF, they could energize the shields, and rest easy. Jimma quickly gathered up bags of food and paid for them. The heavy sacks of pseudo-fresh meat, fruit, and vegetables were cumbersome. But only for those who didn’t have a gigantic predatory animal to carry them. Even a War Master possessed strength that would push the edges of known biomedical science—at least without artificial modification.
The odd pair lumbered their heavy load through the wide corridor that skirted the massive station. The large picturesque windows revealed the awesome views of the glowing translucent energy shield that funneled thousands of ships to and from the hyper gate. There were megaton freighters, luxury yachts, colony ships, and an occasional law enforcement patrol. Jimma was grateful this station managed their own security, versus outside contractors. The entire reason for their trip to Tangine Station was to root out any potential Crimson personnel from the ranks of their security forces. But on the same token, local enforcement officials had staying power, and were more likely to be bribed by unsavory pirates or lowlifes.
Jimma fought the
urge to message her temples, but the aching began to throb. She found herself rubbing her temples with her thumbs as if it were involuntary.>
The bags dropped to the deck in a single heap, and both Jimma and Sasha were in the faces of their admirers. The two men froze, but not necessarily out of fear. They were obviously highly trained and didn’t startle easy. The taller thinner man with the reddish stubble just peered menacingly into Jimma’s eyes. But she didn’t bat an eyelash, nor betray any emotion in her expression. Sasha’s scowl did make a slight dent in the shorter man’s eyes. He stepped back slowly and began to raise his arms with palms forward. He swallowed deeply, and the chemical scent trails confirmed his fear as the big cat stared him down.
“Why are you following us?” Jimma asked calmly as she relaxed her stance. She tried to assume a confident posture, but she also wanted to deescalate the situation. She decided against squaring off with the man.
“I’m going to kill you, that’s why.” The taller stubble-faced man smiled. His companion shot him a quick glance of concern, but it went unnoticed.
“Who sent you?” Jimma pressed, although she never expected him to answer. She kept her body language in check as decided there was no need to provoke an attack.
“You’ll never know, so why bother asking?” The man huffed a forced laugh and then slowly tilted his head to try an invoke fear in the War Master. Jimma probably figured that this man was a pig and believed himself superior to all women. Then Sasha noticed something and began to send thought patterns to Jimma to alert her to danger coming from all sides. The War Master didn’t take her eyes off the stubbly man, but instead remained inches from his face. He didn’t notice her grasp her sword’s handle.
She lurched backwards and kicked the taller man square in the solar plexus. With one swift motion she drew her blade and sliced an attacker completely in half from the collarbone down to his pelvis. She never even turned to see who she had just killed, but instinct had told her he was armed with a plasma wand. A dozen men and women came from all sides dressed in random civilian attire. Some with pistols, and others with hand-held edged weapons.
Sasha didn’t waste a second, and she quickly dispatched the shorter man that had tailed them. Teeth and claws sliced through his chest and throat in a single pounce, then she landed and redirected her mass to pounce in a completely different angle. Plasma bolts streaked past where she had been a second earlier, but she retaliated with three lightning-fast swipes of her extended claws. The three pistol-packing attackers were dead before they hit the ground.
Jimma cleaved two attackers in half with a single side stroke of her sword, and she was forced to wipe the sprayed blood from her eyes. She was tackled by two men who knocked her off balance. Her sword slid from her hand and clanged against the hard decking below. Still effectively blinded, she found her footing and stood straight up. She straightened her tall body, and the attackers were lifted off their feet as a result. They clung to her shoulders for a moment, and then one released his grasp and stumbled to the floor. Jimma casually reached with her hand to find a throat and squeezed. She rubbed the blood away from her eyes with her free hand, while she extended her other arm out with the attacker now hanging by his throat. He gasped and tried to use his hands to pry Jimma’s grip off of his windpipe. The other attackers stopped dead in their tracks to see a woman, who barely weighed a hundred and ten kilos, hold a fully-grown man up by his throat. In one swift motion she drew the man into her shoulder, stepped out with her right leg, and threw him into a nearby wall like a shotput.
Meanwhile, Sasha had dispatched all the other attackers. Then a single bolt from a pulse blaster rang out and barely missed Jimma’s ribcage. It slammed into the man’s chest, who previously fell from her shoulders, and they man was killed instantly. Jimma could barely through the blood spatter dripping into her eyes.
“You two really know how to mess up nap time!” Kara said, as she holstered her pistol.
Jimma smiled, then wiped her eyes again. She picked up her massive sword, and walked up to Kara with a smile. “You know I could’ve taken that guy out, right?” Jimma laughed.
“Maybe. But I wasn’t a whole hell of a lot of help when we raided that Crimson Cruiser, so I figured I would try and redeem myself.” Kara winked.
“Well, we’ve got some food… Might still be safe to eat as long as we test it for blood borne pathogens.”
“I see that.” Kara chuckled. “I was going to call for you to say we’ve gotten moved up in gate priority, but Skull could sense your adrenaline levels spike, so I came running instead.”
“That’s great! We can finally jump to Tangine, and these bloody groceries won’t have to give us a disease,” Sasha said.
“Well, yeah… Not really. Our initial request was furloughed altogether. The only option we’ve got is to jump to a regional hub, and then on to Tangine. Skull said all traffic from any station that didn’t have the same security standards were on hold.”
“Which means bad things—very bad things.” Jimma nodded with a frown. “Looks like the Crimson Alliance may have gotten into the contracted security market after all.”
“Exactly. And from the looks of things, they know we’re here. They’ll want to restrict our movements. The Crimson probably understands that the War Master Guild is fully operational and is coming out from hiding. Any War Master they can kill, or capture is a strategic victory for them. Not to mention they’ll be on the look-out for former Crimson Fleet Ensign Jimma Alba.”
“You’re right. Sasha and I will have to be discreet from now on. Our most critical objective is to make it to Tangine and link up with your contact. We won’t do ourselves or anyone else any good if we’re discovered.”
“Which is also why it’s good to have friends in high places. I’m getting messages from the head STC controller in my neural interface. I guess she couldn’t link directly to your dome, so she reached out to the registered owner of the Skull-Crusher. She’s sending her own men to clean this up, and they’ve already captured the remaining men and women that fled.” Kara paused to read on. After a few moments she looked up. “Looks like falsified neural net tokens on those goons… solid tech, but not too solid apparently. The core interface is from New Quebec System.”
“Crimson controlled space.” Jimma nodded. “Let’s get moving. We need to blast our way off of this chunk of metal and get to Tangine!”
“No, Ma’am! Hold it right there!” Kara laughed. “Neither of you are getting my carpet soiled in blood! Your STC fans have arranged for a portable shower stall to be hauled down to our dock… I requested a big one for this warm fluffy kitty to take a warm fluffy shower also!”
“I love you, Kara. Which is precisely why you’re still breathing.” Sasha chuckled.
Squeaky Clean
Location: Clarke Station, Interstellar Port, Dock
Date Time: Post Interstellar 07/31/4201
System: Tiber System, Mid Region
“Shower is all set up, Ma’am,” the man in the utility overalls told Kara. He was older, average height, and had a cheerful disposition. His grumpier coworker just grumbled something under his breath while packing up small hand tools into a portable container. The shower unit was wide and had a curtain assembly that was supported by curved metal beams. The four beams were attached at the four corners of the tub-like base, and they wrapped up to meet at a single hinge at the peak. A single piece of shower curtain draped over the beams and hid the actual shower head from view.
“Thank you.” Kara smiled but realized that the friendly man’s jaw was dropped. His face appeared to be drained of blood, and he appeared to be in shock. She noticed the work
er was looking at something behind her right shoulder. She turned around to see Jimma undressing.
“Uh… I guess I should go now. C’mon, Zeel!” The man quickly looked away and shouted at his less cheerful coworker. The two men scurried off, and Kara turned back to Jimma and laughed.
Jimma kicked trousers off her foot, then glanced back up at Kara. “What?” Jimma asked.
Kara realized the mighty War Master wasn’t used to being modest in public. “You’ll get naked anywhere, won’t you?”
“I have to shower! I’m covered in blood!” Jimma scrunched her eyebrows and huffed.
Kara guessed Jimma didn’t see anything wrong with stripping down to bathe in front of strange men. “Well, the mystery is solved! The carpet does match the drapes.” Kara jibed.
“I’m not following. There’s no carpet in here!” Jimma just grabbed a towel and walked towards the shower. On her way, she scanned the deck all around her.
Kara just shook her head and went to go gather up Jimma’s bloody clothing and armor.
“She’s not used to being around people she isn’t related to, you know?” Steve, Kara’s AI, said. Kara almost forgot that Steve’s node was embedded inside her armor.
“That’s true, I suppose. She did spend a long time pretending to be a Crimson Fleet Officer, though.”
“Yes, dear. But as you said, she was an officer. And a female one at that. She had her own billeting with a private shower area.” Sasha joined the conversation. The large cheetah was lounging on the deck surface, and meticulously licking blood from her body. The voice module crackled slightly every time she licked through her words.
“I just can’t get over how she was all alone for so long with those monsters!” Kara shook her head and wrinkled her lips.