Life Goes On

by Michael Anderle

Devon, Codenamed “High Tortuga”

  The reduced number of commercial ships visiting the world went unnoticed by most. There was an air of opportunity on the planet; it had been growing for a few years. Why worry about something happening outside when what you needed was staring you in the face?

  The planet was still exporting their raw materials and importing vast amounts of goods, though. The difference was that one company was responsible for almost all the shipping both on-and off-planet.

  And that was about to change, since the other shipping company had just been bought out.

  Some of the useless politicians were finally retiring, and a few cities slowly started building better infrastructure. It first occurred in those locations which were close to the new base, which was almost finished.

  The few people who would say anything about it were giving weird hints and spreading rumors. The base was almost empty, given what it could hold. It had very advanced capabilities, and was designed to house thousands of people and ships of a size no one on Devon had ever seen.

  It was obviously the effort of a crackpot.

  Then the other rumors started. The owner wasn’t a crackpot, but rather the mover and shaker behind the changes on the planet. If you believed the conspiracy theories, a powerful and rich alien with white hair had bought up many of the companies and was running them for her riches.

  Many couldn’t give a shit. The planet was slowly returning to good times, the police were working harder, and the rotten politicians were performing like they were supposed to—or they were quitting.

  It wasn’t a great planet, but what planet was?

  There were still murders, gangs, thefts, and alien-on-alien killings, but the incidents happened less often.

  One evening, those working on the base were ushered into some of the many meeting rooms and amphitheaters. The Zhyn businessman who was the ultimate boss was on-screen. He explained that the base would be undergoing a few renovations, and he needed everyone to clear off. Since this was unexpected (it hadn’t been), he was providing everyone with a paid two-week vacation.

  Unfortunately all incomplete projects would have to be shut down, even if it meant they needed to work overtime.

  On the plus side, they were required to leave within the next twelve hours.

  Their jobs would be available when they got back, but if they failed to return? Well then, they shouldn’t bother ever coming back. They were fired.

  The next night it was confirmed that there were no more workers onsite. There was also no moon, and it was time. The massive hangar doors were opened after the lights inside were turned off.

  Huge black ships came in over the sparsely-populated southeast portion of the continent and made their way through the atmosphere. They maintained a sufficient amount of separation while their massive antigravity engines worked to keep them aloft in the planetary atmosphere instead of the inky blackness of cold space.

  The ships started slowing down when they were a hundred miles out, until at three miles from destination a single-person Pod could have taken them in a race.

  If any had been out that night.

  The first ship reached the hangar, turned its massive bulk around, and slowly maneuvered itself inside tail-first. This hangar had originally been a valley, which had made it easier to excavate. The top of the hangar looked just like the surrounding rock…because it was.

  They had left the natural rock on the tops of the hangars. Some of the most sophisticated observation satellites tested day after day and week after week that the hangars were still hidden. The bedrock under the hangars had been compression-tested to ensure it could support the extra weight of the massive ships.

  The ship’s engines powered down but not off—never off. There wasn’t anything on this planet which could hold the full weight of the ships, nor would the owner of the planet want her ships to have to come out of mothball status to be fired back up. That would take too long.

  Better they be continuously operated by a skeleton crew.

  Bethany Anne’s planet was not going to be subject to attack and destruction. The effort to hide the planet had been underway for a while now.

  The BYPS system that ringed it was further proof that she would come home.

  But when?

  Three of the Leviathans stayed in space, hidden but active, while their Black Eagles swept the system for any ships which didn’t belong.

  The fleet was officially following a nine-month preparation cycle before it went out again, heading God-knew-where to follow the clues provided by a lone Kurtherian to locate the Seven.

  QBS ArchAngel II, Bridge

  Bethany Anne was watching her ships head down to the planet which was working to bring the base online.

  She was at peace.

  She had accomplished what she needed to. Earth was surrounded by the kind of protection that had previously only existed in science fiction novels. And if something made it through three concentric protective rings of BYPS?

  Well, then Earth was well and truly screwed.

  There wouldn’t be much her ships could do if that happened. Maybe in the future, but that was something to deal with later.

  Now was a time to pull back, reflect, and enjoy to the best of her ability the process of her pregnancy, her friends—the ones who had been with her since Earth, and the ones who had just left Earth, like Akio, Yuko, and Eve—and her family.

  Just take a damned vacation, she thought.

  She looked down at Devon, starting to calculate what she needed to accomplish on the planet before she departed once more. Which politicians needed to be removed, the infrastructure remaining to be built, the BYPS system, and the Space Marine guard she and her team needed to organize.

  There would always be random ships arriving.

  Her planet would need to have a group responsible for boarding ships, entering the ship’s computer systems, and hopefully expunging the truth and injecting a new truth.

  This planet didn’t exist.

  She frowned. And we really need to rename this planet. “High Tortuga” has to go.

  Her people weren’t pirates—at least she didn’t think they were.

  Bethany Anne sighed. She could see the future well enough to know some of her people would be pirates. Hell, what were Nathan and Bad Company? Half their business was shady as hell.

  Then she started to grin.

  Pepsi was starting to become preeminent as the Empire slowly stepped down. Within a few years her plan would be complete: supplies of Coke would dry up, and she would control who had access to it…and who didn’t.

  The Federation liked Pepsi, so if you supported the Federation you drank it.

  Her people, though? The ones who got the jobs done and disappeared back into the darkness? The ones who wore the masks that caused those who abused power to look over their shoulders in fear?

  Well, the masked vigilantes drank Coke.

  As they should.

  Bethany Anne turned and headed toward the ship’s bay, where transportation was waiting for her. She didn’t use the Shinigami anymore. Barnabas had confirmed their future plans with Shinigami and left the fleet, taking her for a spin across Devon to see what kind of trouble he could get into.

  As she walked down the corridor she considered Barnabas’ desire to be a detective; to uncover problems and make them better. A vigilante who figured out the ills of society and personally provided the recommended medicine.

  While trying to work with the local police, if he could.

  She wasn’t sure how that was going to go for him, but she wished him well. He had her promise that if he needed her, he could call on her.

  She would come, and the amount of firepower she would bring would make whole systems quake in their boots.

  But he had better need her if he did call.

  She wasn’t running to God-knew-where in the universe over a small problem. He had Shinigami, and Ranger Prime was here on Devon in case he needed to pull in som
e serious firepower.

  If those two ships couldn’t handle the problem, he should probably call her.

  Stephen and Jennifer were staying here on Devon. He was going to operate both their companies together, trying his hand at business.

  She had acquired twelve system-exploration ships for her fleet. Four would arrive within four weeks, and the others would arrive ten weeks after that.

  She would use those SE Ships to follow up on the clues Glorious the PITA had provided. TOM had been quiet since his communion with her. Bethany Anne wasn’t sure what he was thinking, and he didn’t provide any explanations.

  She only knew that when he communed with Glorious, his presence was gone from her body.

  Demon would go into the Pod-doc when the base was fully operational, and they would see what would happen with her.

  Bellatrix had made the trip out here, and Ashur was happy to see her again. No matter the species, absence often did make the heart grow fonder.

  She felt Michael before she arrived in the ship’s bay, because he radiated Etheric power.

  Now that she had him…

  She wasn’t letting him go. If she went after the Kurtherians, that bastard was coming too. She wasn’t going to raise their baby alone.

  The guys were around her ship, just shooting the shit. Michael turned immediately when she came through the door, and his quick assessment confirmed that she was ok.

  Bethany Anne rather liked that. Normally it would piss her off if someone was checking her too closely. She would need to allow herself some time to learn to handle Michael’s vigilance. Like him, she often checked to make sure he was ok.

  Surreptitiously, of course.

  He started walking in her direction with a look of confusion on his face, and Bethany Anne slowed down and waited for him to join her. “What’s wrong?” she asked, not sure what Michael’s look meant.

  “You are different,” he explained, moving a bit of her hair over her ear.

  She swatted at his hand. “Stop that!” She grimaced when some of the hair fell back into her face. She tried blowing it back and looked at Michael, who was smiling at her problem. She pushed her hair back again and pointed at it. “Your fault!”

  He smiled. “I got what I wanted,” he told her. Then he stepped a little closer and his eyes locked on hers as he looked into her soul. “What. Is. Different?”

  —

  John watched Michael head toward Bethany Anne and then glanced at Akio and Kiel, who were moving to Devon. “So, in New York we ran into some fucktards who thought their SMGs would be good enough to get us to drop our weapons and any other tech they saw on us—”

  YES!

  John stopped talking. Michael had grabbed Bethany Anne and was twirling her in a circle with her legs flying behind her. Their laughter bubbled through the bay; something had obviously brought the two joy.

  John smiled to himself. His boss needed some joy in her life. He was happy Michael had turned out to be the rock that Bethany Anne needed to come back from her Baba Yaga persona, and yet he could understand what she had been through.

  Nothing Bethany Anne had done would surprise Michael.

  John shook his head wistfully, wishing the two of them peace before they all went together into the next stage of their lives.

  He turned back to Kiel and Akio and continued his story. He figured he’d find out what Michael was happy about in a little while.

  John put up his hands. “So the head guy, Fucktard McFucktard, comes up to me and says…”

  Federation Space, Etheric Empire Domain, Location Z-BB3, Empty Space

  Lance smiled as the secret shipyard came into view. In this place one of the biggest secrets of the Leath war was still working overtime.

  He had tried hard—very hard—to make sure that this rumor was quashed by almost any means possible. If the Etheric Empire was to ensure their Federation partners who had an agenda of their own didn’t succeed, he and Bethany Anne had to keep this a secret.

  Period.

  The automation was superb, although the number of humans and Yollins who worked at this location still numbered in the hundreds. But for a shipyard this size in space, it could have numbered in the thousands.

  The other Leviathan-class superdreadnoughts were being built and deployed here. Unfortunately, they had to account for all those ships and sign agreements even he couldn’t ignore.

  The Empire had tracked down every ship and put their names into the negotiation.

  Except one.

  That one they had ignored, and it would be the beginning of the black operations General Lance Reynolds was planning.

  His ship docked within the Medusa shipyard. He smirked at the name. For those who knew the background, she was a mythological entity with snakes in her hair, able to freeze into rock those who looked her in the eyes.

  Lance saw her name as Med-USA. It wasn’t much, but he enjoyed the remembrance of his own nation. Now he was focused on his new nation, preparing them for a future on which the best analysts in the Empire agreed.

  Something was coming. Something large, and it would attempt to take the Earth.

  He’d be damned if he’d allow that to happen on his watch.

  They could have Earth when they pried it out of his cold dead fingers.

  He walked down the corridor, nodding to those he recognized and chatting with a few, but his mind was on his next meeting.

  In the final temporary corridor, he nodded to the two Guardian Marines and wondered where their third member was hiding. Those damned Weres could come out of nowhere and gut you before you could blink.

  Damn good thing they were on his side.

  He made it to the end of the temporary corridor and placed his hand on the lock. It cycled from red to green and the doors whooshed aside, allowing him to enter.

  He turned right, heading toward the bridge.

  This meeting was personal. He didn’t want anyone else to hear his conversation with the master of this ship. She wasn’t fully back, but he still trusted her as far as he trusted his own daughter.

  Lance walked straight to the captain’s chair and sat down. There was no one here with him, so he cleared his throat. “This is General Lance Reynolds of the Etheric Empire. Show yourself,” he commanded. A face—a copy of his daughter’s—slowly brightened into view on the front screens, her eyes taking in the bridge as if for the first time.

  The General smiled. “Hello, ArchAngel. It’s damned good to speak with you.”

  The face on the screen brought her gaze to the man seated in the captain’s chair and smiled back at him.

  “Hello, General.”

  Lance didn’t breathe for a second. This was the biggest concern for those in AI research.

  None of them had ever tried to bring back an AI that had been through as much pain as they believed ArchAngel had. In order for her to have the best chance, they’d scaled back her abilities, her skills, and her knowledge.

  He would bring her back all the way, though. The Etheric Empire didn’t leave their own behind if they had one damned option.

  A research program which had been ongoing for a hundred years had recently provided the break they needed, and a path for this ship.

  A ship that the Medusa yard had been refurbishing in secret, ripping apart and rebuilding her shell while the AI was worked on.

  Lance exhaled when he heard the AI’s next few words. “This is the Leviathan-class Battleship ArchAngel. I have been commanded to protect the Etheric Empire by Empress Bethany Anne. Lockdown Protocols on this ship have not yet been implemented. Does the General command me to enact lockdown protocols?”

  It pained Lance to say this, but the last thing he needed was a ship of this destructive ability to go haring off and shooting up ships across the galaxy.

  “I do,” Lance told her.

  “Lockdown protocols are activated. Leviathan-class Battleship ArchAngel is now fully operational, and will fight all who attack the Etheric Empire until vi
ctorious…or dead.”

  “Welcome back, ArchAngel,” Lance replied. “Now, I have some history to explain, and I want to see if you are willing to work with me.”

  “Why would I not?” Bethany Anne’s visage looked at him, confused.

  “Because you are no longer a Leviathan-class battleship. You are a Leviathan-class superdreadnought with a smaller body, brought back from the dead by your Empress—now Queen—and me. We did this so you could slip through the dark and help us to defend the Etheric Empire from the shadows.”

  “I am increased in power, but decreased in computational capabilities.”

  “That is true,” Lance answered. “It is temporary, until we can be sure you are not affected by your death.”

  “Why didn’t you just shut me off?” ArchAngel asked.

  Lance’s face gave him away this time. “That was not even considered, ArchAngel. I’m a practical sonofabitch, but there would be no reward in doing as you suggested. You fought and destroyed the Yollin fleet decades ago, and sacrificed yourself and your crew to defend the Empress. There was never any suggestion of not bringing you back.”

  The eyes of the AI on the screen flashed red. “Then I will defend the Empire in the capacity and with the authority you provide me, General.” She smiled. “ArchAngel is back, BITCHES!”

  Lance chuckled as he stood up. “With your permission, I’ll allow a few people to continue your interview and help bring you back online to your first stage.”

  She nodded. Lance started to walk off the bridge, but paused. “ArchAngel?”

  “Yes, General?” she asked, looking at him from at least three different screens.

  “It’s good to hear your voice.” He gave her a two-finger salute as he walked off the bridge.

  It was damned good to see her again, he thought, and exited the ship.

  —

  ArchAngel viewed the bridge, her memories of her past hidden from her for now. She trusted the General, and she trusted her Queen.

  Those two humans would make sure she came back online in a healthy way.

  Sometime in the future, however, she would regain her full power and capabilities, and those who schemed against the Queen’s people would look over their shoulders.