by Jay Allan
“The inevitable beating followed, with my stomach taking a lot of the heat. Either by the fortune of the gods or the admiral’s lack of creativity, I didn’t get pounded in the face. The ladies might have been less inclined to help me if it had been too swollen to qualify as pretty anymore.
“One of the crew called down, interrupting my beating before it grew too unbearable. ‘Admiral, we’re gliding into their port early, but don’t worry. They don’t suspect a thing. The stolen ship idea was brilliant. Are the girls ready?’
“‘They will be soon,’ he called back and jerked a thumb toward the cell. ‘Put the colonel back in and make sure he’s comfortable. We’ll question him on our way back to Cofahre in the morning. Got it?’”
“‘Comfortable. Yes, sir.’ The guard nearly wrenched my arms out of their sockets as he shoved me into the cell. He tried to kick me in the ass, too, but the girls scattered out of the way, so I had room to evade him.
“The gate clanged shut, leaving me feeling miserable and like I hadn’t handled that in the brightest way. What can I say? I fly and shoot things. There’s a reason my superiors don’t ask for much more.
“To my surprise, Resni Masonwood stepped forward. ‘Guard? We’ll need our bags with our clothes and makeup. If we’re to succeed in infiltrating Iskandia and finding noble gentlemen to spy on while we act as their lovers, we’ll need to look our best.’”
“The guard frowned in confusion. I wasn’t feeling that enlightened either.
“‘Aren’t those your bags there?’ He pointed toward the gear by the girls in the back.
“‘We were also sent with jewelry and makeup,’ Resni said. ‘I believe it’s in the captain’s cabin. Fetch it, please.’
“The guard looked like he meant to object, but she smiled and reached through the bars to touch his arm. He got that flustered and pleased look I’ve seen on my young lieutenants when girls flirt with them. ‘I’ll check,’ he mumbled, then left us alone in the brig.
“Resni turned to me. ‘You’re truly Colonel Zirkander?’
“I felt like dough pounded by an overly zealous baker, but I managed a nod. ‘Yes, my lady. Does that mean we’re greater enemies than we were ten minutes ago? You being sympathetic to the Cofah, it seems.’
“She hesitated. I found that promising.
“‘He took a beating for us,’ Vara blurted. ‘He’s a hero. We have to help him.’
“‘He does always sound dashing in the stories, even when the Cofah are cursing him.’ Resni sighed wistfully.”
Am I going to have to gag again? Jaxi asked.
I didn’t know you gagged the first time, Ridge replied silently. I thought that was just a threat.
Oh, no, I definitely gagged.
Is that hard to do without a mouth or a tongue?
No, I’m a soulblade. My talents are vast.
Bethany Anne spoke up in their minds. I have an AI who gives me shit like this all the time. My condolences.
Ridge continued with the story.
“‘If you can help me get off this ship when they drop you off,’ I said, ‘I’ll make sure you’re taken care of and taken back to the capital. You can spy if you want, but maybe you’d prefer to go to school or something? Or join the army. Ever thought of becoming a flier pilot? We have ladies in Wolf Squadron. Well, Blazer might not count as a lady. But she has woman parts.’”
“Now Vara was the one to look wistful. About becoming a pilot, I think, not Lieutenant Blazer’s lady parts.”
Kelsey shook her head mournfully.
“‘We’ll help you,’ Resni said. ‘I don’t know about the rest yet, but that was why I sent that thug away. We have our bags over here already. Our… instructor sent us with suitable clothing to attract men. Put some on.’”
“I blinked. ‘What?’”
“‘If we all go above decks together, maybe nobody will count too closely and notice there are nine of us instead of eight. You’ll have to hunch. You’re too tall. And we’ll have to knock the guard out or he’ll notice that his soggy pilot captive is missing.’ Resni plucked at my seaweed-draped uniform and clucked her tongue. I suddenly had no trouble imagining her being related to King Angulus.
“Two of the taller girls came forward holding up a dress and a shawl. I stared in horror, ready to object, but a clang came from the deck above. What did I have to lose? I was already a prisoner.”
“Now, this is starting to get interesting,” Kelsey drawled, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.
Ridge looked around the table. He was starting to rethink his decision to tell this particular story. He’d forgotten about the brief flirtation with women’s clothing it had required. Oh, well. These people had been drinking all night. They wouldn’t remember him or the story in the morning, except maybe for BOB. It was watching intently as if it were some bard memorizing details for a future song.
“This story sounds right up your street!” Amanda exclaimed to Artur with a smile.
“There’s nothin’ wrong with dressin’ comfortably,” Artur told her. “Or in my case, feckin’ fabulously.”
“Are you sure he’s not just a tiny robot?” Rika asked the redheaded woman.
“Pretty sure,” Amanda replied quietly.
“I’ll feckin’ ‘robot’ ye!” Artur snapped.
“I could hear someone coming,” Ridge continued his story, “so I dressed faster than I ever had before. And more ineptly. Three girls had to help me with the buttons. I lost six chest hairs in the process, although the wounds I’d gotten in the crash caused more pain as I grunted and twisted and struggled to put on the dress, a shawl, and a bonnet that didn’t do as much to hide my masculine eyebrows as one might hope.”
Who told you that your eyebrows are masculine? Jaxi asked.
Well, they’re not plucked and pleasingly shaped like Sardelle’s are, Ridge thought.
You’re not supposed to know she does those things to achieve appealing eyebrow hair.
I won’t tell her.
“As I was debating what to do with my giant feet—they’re even more masculine than my eyebrows—a thump sounded on the stairs. The guard coming back. My change of clothing hadn’t done anything to help with the locked gate, so I couldn’t just spring out and attack him. I found a shadowy spot next to the bars and hoped for the best.
“‘The captain said all your things are down here already,’ the guard stated, glowering in the girls’ direction as he stomped in. ‘Grab those bags and get over here. Felks is coming to help escort you to your new—’
“That was when he noticed me. I was hunching so as not to appear tall and had the bonnet pulled over my eyes, but he squinted suspiciously and leaned in for a closer look. Just close enough. As I lifted my face so he could see under the bonnet, I snaked my hand between the bars to grab the back of his neck. He lurched back, but not quite quick enough. I took out some of my aggression from the earlier beating as I yanked him in and smashed his forehead against the bars. Several times. His eyes rolled back in his head like marbles and he collapsed, but not before I snagged the keys off his belt.”
“‘That was unladylike,’ Resni observed.
“‘You don’t approve?’ I asked, fumbling to find the right key for the lock.
“‘I approve just fine, but you may have to be less violent to get past the admiral. We were taught to be meek.’
“‘You can’t be meek if you’re going to be a pilot.” I found the right key and eased the gate open.
“‘Was that a real offer?’ Resni sounded genuinely intrigued.
“‘Absolutely. Flying is much better than being some snooty noble’s plaything.’
“She snorted. ‘You speak from experience, do you?’
“‘As a matter of fact…’ Another clang sounded as a hatch opened at the top of the stairs. ‘I’ll expound later. This must be Felks. Let’s hurry up to meet him, eh?’
“I eyed the downed guard but there was no place to hide him, so I waved for the girls to hurry up
the stairs, hoping our escort wouldn’t think it odd that the guard had already released us. Resni grabbed her bag of belongings and strode up the stairs with two other girls right behind her. Bless them for catching on quickly.
“‘Uh,’ came a man’s voice from above.
“‘We’re ready to meet our destinies,’ Resni announced.
“Felks must have shrugged and turned for the upper deck because the women continued up the stairs. I tossed the keys onto the guard’s chest and slouched, putting myself in the middle of the group and hoping I fit in.
“It was hard not to burst into a run when the salty sea breeze touched my cheeks and I saw the lights of a little port town. I wasn’t sure where we were, but I knew my name and rank would convince someone to lend me a horse. Then I could ride for the nearest flier base, get some of my people in the air, and mow down those Cofah ironclads before they could leave Iskandian waters.
“With this idea firmly in mind, it was all I could do to keep from sprinting past the women and leaping overboard. But I’d promised to help them. If they had indeed come from that lost ship, they hadn’t set foot in Iskandia in ten years. Besides, I’d probably get shot if I sprinted off. A lot of men were out on deck. None of them wore Cofah uniforms, this being part of their ruse, but they instead wore the mixed clothing of a merchant ship crew. They were all armed, though, hands resting on pistols or cutlasses as they looked warily toward the town. A few eyed our group too as we walked after Felks toward the gangplank.
“We weren’t ten feet from it when the Cofah admiral stomped into view with a longsword in hand and headed straight for our group. I grimaced, positive he’d counted and realized an extra woman was leaving the ship. Even if he couldn’t count without relying on his fingers, it was possible I didn’t quite fit in…
“He planted himself in front of the gangplank, sword tip to the deck, and thrust a fist in the air. ‘You do the empire proud,’ he told Resni and the others in front of me, ‘and you will be rewarded.’
“I was tempted to reward his pompous ass by running up and kicking him into the water, but I was afraid I’d trip in the ridiculously tight women’s loafers I wore and end up falling overboard. The girls ducked their heads and murmured variations of, ‘Yes, Admiral. We will.”
“I hoped he wouldn’t expect me to speak. I might be able to wear a dress, but I can’t manage a falsetto or a passable Cofah accent.
“I kept my head down and thought I’d get by. Resni and Vara were already on the gangplank. Then his hand whipped out like a viper’s fangs and latched onto my arm. I was sure every Cofah man on the deck jerked a pistol out and pointed it at my back. Could I manage to muscle him into the water without being shot? And if I did, could I swim under the dock and make it to shore before they caught me?
“‘You sure a couple of you girls don’t want to entertain me before you go into enemy territory?’ the admiral asked. ‘I’d make it memorable. Give you something to remember when you’re with all those limp Iskandians.’
“Even though I had my head down, I could feel him staring straight at me. He must have had a thing for tall women. The others gathered behind me, but as long as the admiral was gripping my arm, we couldn’t pass. And he seemed to be waiting for an answer. I gave my best girlish giggle. I had no trouble imagining his suspicious eyes boring through my bonnet.
“‘Hurry up, girls,’ Resni whispered from the bottom of the gangplank. ‘I see some officers coming. They’ll get suspicious of us and this ship if they recognize the mighty Cofah Admiral Stanchiun.’
“The admiral let me go and I thought I was in the clear, but then he drew back his longsword. Seven gods, had he figured it out? I crouched, a second from springing at him and trying to send him flying overboard.
“But he wasn’t trying to cleave off my head. He swatted me in the ass with the flat of the blade and said, ‘Don’t tell anyone I didn’t offer. Cofah hospitality is unparalleled.’ He thrust his sword into the sky and declared, ‘For the empire!’
“I was tempted to kick him all over again. Instead, I hustled down the gangplank with the others, and we rushed to get out of sight of the ship. There weren’t any officers around—that Resni is a smart girl—although it was too bad, because it would have been nice to get a steam carriage to the local garrison. We had to hoof it, which is about as pleasant as you’d expect in women’s shoes.
Bethany Anne smiled. “In the right shoes, it can be a religious experience.”
“Thank my burgeoning bunions we got a ride from there to the nearest flier battalion, and I found the rest of my squadron along with Cougar Squadron. They’d been sent up to help with the ironclads. The next morning we flew out, found them, and finished what we’d started the day before. If that handsy admiral made it home, he swam.
“As for the women, I got them back to the capital, and General Ort, after berating me for losing my uniform—he didn’t bat an eye at my dress—took us all up to see the king. He personally handled getting the women reconnected with their relatives, and both Resni and Vara ended up enrolling in the flight academy and becoming pilots. A good end for the ladies, and so far as I’ve heard, none of them has seduced anyone or sent intel back to the Cofah. But I did learn that Dog Breath didn’t make it. That made me reconsider the earlier pride I’d felt toward him ‘taking the initiative.’ Since then, I’ve tried to be a slightly better role model for my young officers. I’ve also avoided bonnets. Nobody takes you seriously in a bonnet.”
Those around the table raised their glasses and mugs in a silent toast to fallen comrades.
So, you’re saying that you, with a single smile, convinced a bunch of girls who’d been brainwashed by the Cofah for ten years to change allegiance? Jaxi asked.
I smiled more than once, thank you. There was quite a long conversation that I might have left out so I wouldn’t bore my listeners. I was at my most charming during it.
Uh huh. And then the admiral just believed you were a six-foot-tall woman he’d failed to notice before and let you walk off the ship? That story is even harder to believe than the versions of your flier exploits that the smitten newspaper journalists write up.
You can see into my mind. You know that story is true.
I can see that a semblance of it possibly happened and that you’re getting senile and forgetting other parts.
I’m positive there was a dress. And that an admiral swatted my ass with a sword.
So long as you remember the parts that will continue to excite you in your old age.
Ridge lifted his mug toward the others, indicating the next storyteller could take his spot. Meanwhile, he vowed to leave Jaxi at home the next time he was abducted by aliens.
I told you, they’re mostly human.
Comforting.
Interlude
BOB checked the uplinks. All of the data, petabytes of it, were streaming to the Collector. No acknowledgment had come back in return. From past missions, BOB knew this could be because the Collector was either pleased with the progress or had given up on it.
“I bet you looked quite fetching in that dress, Ridge!” Amanda said with a smile as she finished off her cheesecake.
“The dress makes the man, they say.” Ridge lifted his mug.
“I thought the saying was that clothes make the man,” Bethany mused said with a laugh.
“Oh? Maybe it’s different on my world,” Ridge offered.
Humans were an odd lot, and this was the second mission to this corner of the Multiverse, so the probability was that the Collector not responding was because of the former rather than the latter. However, any probability represented a possibility, and BOB’s mission was to ensure success.
Arkarin Blackhawk had sat through the first few stories with no input. His chair was still pulled back half a meter, not right at the table as with the rest. He sipped his Dalmore 62, eyes brooding but face showing little expression.
No reaction could be valid data, but BOB was programmed to be more active. It�
��d been programmed with curiosity, and it had an electronic itch that could only be satisfied when unknowns became knowns. Arkarin Blawkhawk was an enigma.
“May I get you another Dalmore, sir? Or something else?”
Blackhawk said nothing.
BOB knew it might take a more direct prompt. “You’ve been taciturn since your arrival, sir. If I may be so bold, perhaps the other guests would like to know more about you?”
Ten sets of eyes swiveled to Blackhawk, waiting.
Blackhawk at BOB’s Bar
by Jay Allan
Blackhawk stared around the table at his drinking companions—his nosy drinking companions. He didn’t like being questioned, even socially, and inquiries into his past were almost guaranteed to evoke what could only be described in most cases as an…unfortunate…response. Blackhawk wasn’t evil—not by choice, anyway—but a man with his background who’d gone through what he had was never far from volatile.
Dangerously volatile.
But he felt strange just then somehow, not quite like himself, and the inhibitions, the discipline, the mistrust—all the grim emotions that kept him the insular creature he was, never far from violence as a solution to a problem—were all… Well, perhaps not gone, but…different, submerged. To his own surprise, he began to answer the question.
“I’m from the empire,” he said, the shadowy darkness in his tone hinting of so much more than location lying within the answer.
“The Cofah Empire?” Ridge asked, looking like he was thinking of moving his seat farther away.
“No.”
“Oh. That’s good then. Carry on.”
Bethany Anne added, “Empires are definitely a negative. It was annoying when my group was labeled an empire.”
“There is no empire here, nor any emperor.” BOB’s voice had a slight electronic sound to it, but as such constructions went, the bartender was nothing short of miraculous. “This bar is apart from the universes of normal space, those expanses of stars and planets that you and so many others passing through here call home.”