The Apex Warriors

by Marc Stevens

  Tria’s mouth dropped open. She was shocked speechless. To tell the truth, I was having a hard time wrapping my head around everything I was hearing. What was coming through loud and clear, was the AI that had saved my life years ago, would rather perish than become the tool it used to be. I was coming up short trying to think of something to say that wouldn’t sound conciliating.

  As usual, I did the next best thing. “See what happens when you start jumping to conclusions. You shouldn’t be so quick to write me off. When I got done kicking the scat out of the Prule, I would have got around to calling you for a ride home sooner or later.”

  Justice’s response was to broadcast a bizarre laugh that had to have come from some really bad B-movie. He must have picked it up when eavesdropping on satellites while interned back on Earth. He put the recording on a loop. After the third time of it repeating, Tria and I looked at each other and stepped into the lift tube. When we exited on the next deck, it was no longer audible. The recent comment I made about Justice slipping a couple of cogs, may not have been as far out there as I intended it to be.

  When we entered the med bay, I came to a sudden stop. Tria was not expecting that and collided with me. She frowned and followed my gaze to where Sael Nalen was laying on an examination table. Sael was covered in dabs of nanite gel. The gel treated the wounds that were a bi-product of a subdermal lamination procedure. I noticed her muscles were now well-defined but symmetrical for her body size. It was a marked departure from the gaunt sinewy look that Kala Mor Dee once sported. It was good to see she chose moderation instead of the excessive musculature I was unknowingly bestowed with. None of this was the reason we were startled by her appearance. What took us by complete surprise was that Sael only had two arms.

  “Justice, what the hell happened to Sael’s other arm? As far as I was aware, there was nothing wrong with it.”

  “I questioned the Principal Investigators motives as well. I considered denying her request, but her explanation was valid.”

  “I would sure like to hear the validity behind purposely removing a perfectly good arm!”

  “Commander, biological life forms possessing more than two arms, places the Chaalt species in a well-defined group of advanced races.”

  “So does only having two legs, what is your point?” I said with a caustic tone.

  “Your history of striking directly at the Prule high command has made you and your species a priority target…”

  I had heard enough of what I thought was skirting my question. I cut the AI off. “Justice, I don’t need a reminder of how much I am hated, despised, and hunted by my enemies. What has that got to do with lopping off Sael’s arm?”

  “Commander, Sael Nalen stated that it is her wish to accompany you on as many Prule strike missions as possible. She logically argued, that being singled out and identified by the number of her appendages was compromising the security of her race. That is no longer a factor.”

  Justice successfully shut my mouth. I closed my eyes and shook my head in frustration. I didn’t quite know if he was inferring that Sael preferred the Prule searching for my species instead of hers, or what. Either way, it was way too late to be bitching about it. I could not change what was done. Unlike Tria, Sael had a choice. Now she had to live with the decision.

  “Justice, are there any more surprises I should know about, or do I have to wait until you are done whittling away at the Principal Investigator to find out.”

  “Yes, Commander.”

  “Yes, Commander what? Is that, yes, there is something else, or yes, you are going to continue hacking away at Sael?”

  “I installed one of our ISTs in the Principal Investigator.”

  I slapped my hand to my forehead. “Oh, that’s just great. Now I will never be able to shut her up. Does she know?”

  “Yes Commander, she made the request. You instructed me to give her what she wants. If you are having difficulty remembering, I can play your recorded order back for verification.”

  “That won’t be necessary Justice. Is there anything else?”

  “The Principal Investigator has also made it known, that if she is incapacitated and captured by the Prule while wearing our combat armor, she has ordered me to program instructions into my subsystem that will terminate her life with nanites.”

  That gave me pause. The images of Sael’s captain being manipulated by a Prule agent flashed through my consciousness. Blinking my eyes, I pushed the morbid scene from my mind. The Principal Investigator had some very compelling reasons to back up her request.

  “Justice, the part about being captured alive…”

  “Commander, after reviewing your battlesuit data, I have formulated the protocols to determine incapacitation. Contingencies will be in place.”

  Tria gripped my arm and squeezed. She was troubled by our conversation. Her expression eased somewhat when she looked me in the eyes and saw my resolve. I knew it bothered her that we were talking about the end of our lives. She was always more optimistic than that, and only liked to consider our future together.

  “Wake Sael up Justice, we need to speak with her.”

  “She has been awake since your arrival Commander.”

  I grimaced and stepped closer to Sael. Her eyes slowly opened. She looked up at me. “You could always order me to shut up.” She said with a forced smirk.

  Even with the pain drugs that were administered to her, I could tell she was in a world of hurt. Not knowing what to say, I let the first thing that came to mind spill out of my mouth.

  “Just remember our IST is a two-way system with a lot more range than your old one. I will be able to annoy you most anywhere in the galaxy.”

  She was watching me closely and mistook my wandering eyes for something other than a survey of her enhancements.

  The corners of her mouth twitched upwards. “Did you only come here to ogle my body, or did you have something useful to tell me?”

  Considering how much pain she was in, I was a little surprised by her comment. It had me wondering if she was developing an Earthman sense of humor. Me being the king of snappy comebacks, I could not resist replying in kind. “You should have Justice give you a good boob job.”

  At first, she frowned, trying to determine the meaning of my comment. It only took a handful of seconds. Her mouth became a thin flat line, and her eyes narrowed. “Primate!”

  An elbow in the ribs from Tria got me back on track. I stifled the urge to smile and put a neutral expression on my face. “Sael we are leaving you in Justice’s care and going to take our shuttle to Outpost 9765.”

  “May I ask why?”

  I didn’t want to do a questions and answers routine. It would only lead to revealing the true nature of our excursion. Knowing Sael, she would want to come along regardless of the pain she was in. Having experienced the agony of the subdermal treatment firsthand, I knew she would be incapable of participating in a combat mission. Getting that message through her thick skull would be a problem.

  Tria was not going to be any help. She was still giving me the stinkeye over my boob job comment. “We are going to make a supply run.” I lied.

  Sael chewed on the falsehood and did not swallow. “You should know that when you lie to me, the color of your cheeks gives you away.”

  If Sael was bluffing, and my cheeks weren’t red, they were on fire now.

  Tria grabbed my elbow and shoved me toward the hatch. She held a finger up to me and then turned around to face Sael. “We have intelligence from Bond Connery. It came from an untested source and may prove to be nothing. We are going to investigate regardless of its true meaning.”

  Tria didn’t give Sael the time to comment. She spun around and headed for the exit hatch where I was waiting. She had a smug look on her face. I guess it was meant to be a lesson on how to handle Sael. She came to an abrupt stop when Sael called to me.

  “How big Nathan?”

  I was puzzled by the question and the casual use of my name. “Are
you asking about the mission or the intel?”

  “No, the boob job. How big do you think I should have Justice make my breasts?”

  Tria’s eyes grew to the size of quarters. I burst into laughter and held my hands up. I knew better than to say another word.

  Tria wasn’t taking any chances and made sure I didn’t have any time to cook up a reply. She grabbed my hand pulling me into the corridor and quickly changed the subject. “We should check on the progress with the Daggers.”

  We exited the Legacy and were walking toward the artifact building when Coonts and Klutch ran up to us. There was the usual amount of pushing and shoving, but Coonts still got the first words in.

  “Commander the Eagle is prepped and ready for departure. We are waiting for Justice to finish installing the cloaking emitters on our armor. He has informed me the process will be complete in another two hours.”

  “Roger that, let me know when they are ready. We will be departing as soon as possible.”

  When to two failed to move on and kept elbowing at each other, I knew they had another subject on their minds. “Is there something else you need to discuss with me?”

  Klutch grabbed the back of Coonts smart cloth uniform and pulled him backward. He stepped in front of me. “Commander, who will pilot the mission?”

  I was glad we were getting back out on another mission. The downtime was giving my two favorite troublemakers way too much time to pick at each other.

  “Tria,” I answered.

  They were not expecting that, and both gave me a look like they just ate something disagreeable to their palates. Tria and I continued on to the artifact building thinking we would have to find an alternate route on our way back, so Coonts and Klutch could not easily find us. Being dragged into their never-ending disagreements was annoying, to say the least.

  When we reached the entrance to the storage area, we had to zig-zag through pieces and parts scattered on the floor. In the middle of the beehive-like activity were the five Daggers sitting on construction cradles. The cockpits were disassembled as were most of the body panels running the length of the spacecraft. The exposed skeletal frames had extensions attached to them that formed the framework to fasten the newly designed side sponsons. As we carefully made our way closer to spacecraft, the scientists acknowledged our presence with a polite nod but continued their work.

  One of the full-length sponsons was hanging from an overhead crane in preparation for installation. It had cables, wires, and connections of every description hanging out of it. Once fitted to the sides of the Daggers they would be twice their original width. The new power source was visible just behind the cockpit tub. It was much larger than the original. Once the armor shielding was in place around it, there would be a prominent bulge extending all the way to the phase drive nozzle. New Containium armor cowlings were stacked neatly in large piles next to each spacecraft.

  What we were seeing was not some spur-of-the-moment upgrade. A lot of planning and engineering went into making this possible. This had to have been in the works ever since we returned from the Chaalt research facility. When the Daggers were brought back from that mission they were a mess. Our penetration of the shield dome protecting the base was a precision masterpiece of timing on Justice’s part. Unfortunately, it resulted in unavoidable high-speed crash landings. When the scientists and engineers were done with the Daggers, they would be highly modified and look like new again. As long as the new stealth systems worked as planned and no more crash landings, I intended to keep them in this condition if at all possible.

  It was obvious Tria and my curiosity was impeding progress. We exited the building and moved in the direction of the replicator complex. I was looking in all directions trying to see if we would again be accosted by Coonts and Klutch. So far our luck was holding, and the pair was nowhere in sight. Just ahead of us and to our right, was a convoy of gravity sleds laden with more armor for the Daggers. It was led by the Grawl survey engineer Kevel. He and his team that we freed from the pirate base, fit right in with the rest of our clan. They gave us a respectful nod as they passed, and we gave them a bow in return. We could use another hundred just like them. They were hardworking and genuinely dedicated to our cause.

  When we stepped through the large overhead door to the replicator building, we saw Felix and Graf busily working the controls to the replicators. Jaran was to one side orchestrating the distribution of the materials rolling out of the production chutes. I no longer wondered where Coonts and Klutch were. They had two gravity sleds with our combat armor on them and moving toward a side exit. The time period allotted for the completion of the repairs was generous. The armor was ready more than an hour ahead of schedule.

  “That was quick,” I commented to Tria.

  “If Coonts and Klutch were standing over you behaving like buffoons, you would do whatever was necessary to hasten their departure,” Tria replied.

  The look Felix gave Coonts and Klutch as they departed, confirmed Tria’s statement. It made me reconsider bothering Felix or Graf with questions about the drone production schedules and the repairs to the Legacy. They knew what they were doing, and I was sure it wouldn’t require any input from me. I pulled up short and turned around. Tria was reading me like a book, and we headed back the way we came.

  “Justice,” I called. “Please inform our clan leaders we will be departing for Outpost 9765.”

  “Affirmative Commander.”

  We stayed behind Coonts and Klutch so they would not see us. It was also far enough to their rear, we would not have to know the reasons they were gesticulating at each other. Some of which were derogatory Earth symbolisms. It wasn’t hard to figure out where they picked that up. Tria was thinking the same thing and cast me a stinky eye. My cheesy grin made her shake her head. We waited until our armor was unloaded and stowed before we approached Eagle Two’s cargo hatch. When Coonts and Klutch were moving the gravity sleds back to the replicator building, Tria and I quickly boarded. Tria took the pilot's seat and I took the other. We started going over our checklists in preparation for departure. Coonts and Klutch showed up several minutes later and were disappointed to find us in the pilot's seats. They must have thought if they beat us to them, I would change my mind on who would pilot the mission. There was a small possibility they might have been correct, but not in this case.

  I gave them one of my grandpa’s sayings, “If your late, you gonna wait.”

  The adage had more to do with breakfast or the bathroom than anything else, but I would never tell those two that.

  Tria lifted off and made a high-speed departure. Once we were clear of our moon she Jumped to hyperspace. Even with the fifth generation Chaalt jump drives, we still had a twenty-hour transit time. Once Tria had the controls configured we retired to the small cabin in the rear of the flight deck. It only had a single cot to sleep on, but Tria and I had no problem making due.

  When we awoke nine hours later, we found Coonts and Klutch occupying the pilot’s seats. We went aft to the shuttles spartan galley and ate. When we finished we decided it would be pointless to go back to the flight deck. The conversation going on there would not be of interest to us. We passed the time exercising and sparring. It would work the kinks out of our joints and stretch muscles that were still on the mend from our last engagement. It also gave Tria the time to show me how to perform a few knife juggling tricks she and the Troop Master were very adept at. She used her fighting knife and I used a galley utensil. I was a quick study and my implants allowed me to rapidly memorize the movements. I also had excellent muscle memory. It helped me graduate to the fighting knife in about three hours of non-stop practice. After only a single mishap, that could have been much worse had I not had the Oolaran subdermal treatment, Tria gave me a satisfying nod of approval. Klutch came down from the flight deck with a scent that a really good deodorant could not disperse. It was not hard to figure out that he and Coonts were picking at each other again. When he saw my fighting knife in one
hand, and the nanite gel on my fingers, he gave me a big goofy grin. The hambone drew his knife and twirled it in the air and spun a complete circle and caught it by the handle. He flipped it over his shoulder and caught it behind his back, then spun it in the air again catching it between his teeth.

  I had seen enough and said what was on my mind, “Showoff.”

  The Tibor broke out in a braying laugh. He flipped his knife high in the air once more, then caught it and drove it into his leg scabbard like a killing thrust. Tria politely clapped and I sneered. His response to my reaction was to hold up his hands and inspect his fingers. I shoved my wounded hand into my uniform pocket and stalked off to the flight deck.

  When I sat down in the co-pilot's seat, Coonts saw my hand. “How did you injure your hand Commander?”

  Not wanting to explain how it was self-inflicted, I got up and went to the Captain’s cabin, and closed the door. Coonts could wonder on his own. Tria joined me thirty minutes later. I forgot all about my wounded pride.

  Tria and I were catnapping when Klutch gave us a heads up we would be exiting hyperspace in five minutes. Coonts and Klutch made sure they were in the pilot’s seats. Tria was still pilot in command but it didn’t bother her enough to tell them to move. Coonts did a five-second countdown and our view out the observation screen flashed from a shimmering gray to a starfield that was familiar to us. The outpost was highlighted with a blue blinking circle. Klutch made a course correction and the circle turned solid. The ship traffic started populating on the viewscreen. The Sig spacecraft were blue boxes and the unknowns were yellow. Four of the largest contacts had yellow blinking boxes around them.