THE LOPER - SUNBRINGER

[Amazee Dayzee]

Isn't it always that just when you have one thing under control something else happens and you need to figure out how to deal with that? Whatever is coming their way next what are the chances of it being friendly?

[Welsh Halfwit]

19


Kendall couldn’t advise using the Loper’s traction beam on the Fawren ship as, appearances not withstanding, the hull was incredibly weak here and now. The weakness of age had come into play and the mould was in the venting. She reckoned she should be able to clear the engines of the mould with some assistance and Pangal had gotten herself in there whilst Bazil had started working on the medical computers – such as they were – to identify any weaknesses of the mould. It wasn’t going to be easy. “The reports will all be in Mican,” Hawle reminded him.

<That’s OK, sir,”> the Doctor replied, <I’m fluent in Mican. Spoken and written.”>

Hawle paused for a second. “That’s not on your record. And you just said...”

<“Nuts. I-I never took the exam. Sometimes Micans turn off the translators so they think I don’t know what they’re saying about me. It gives me an advantage.”>

“Does Night know,” Hawle asked, his tone reeking of sweetness.

A pause, followed by an <“Aw crud,”> as the Medic remembered whose boyfriend David Brunton was.

Hawle heard the Detective laugh. “Never mind,” Hawle added, “I’m sure she won’t take your lying to her personally.”

<“I’m dead.”>


Maze familiarized herself with the controls of the museum piece, taking the controls she still knew off by heart from the pictograms still embossed on them and working through the others as she assumed them to be. If the one with a wing and an arrow pointing diagonally down and away from it was the starboard thruster then, logically, the one with the other wing and arrow was the port. And the similarly winged ones with the arrows pointing into the wing would be the reverse thrust. Probably. In all honesty, she had conflicting thoughts on trying to pilot this thing anytime soon. She was happy he had the trust in her – even if he probably wasn’t using his Human simply because she was pregnant – and there was excitement at flying a ship no-one had seen or flown since the last was destroyed in battle almost two centuries ago but there was the other side that insisted she should do as minimal work as she could lest the ship break. And now they had this unknown moving in. She wasn’t dumb. She’d not heard the other side of the conversation but, like the others she’d definitely heard the Commander say ‘what direction is it coming from’ before he’d remembered he was still vocally linked to the team and shut it off. Combining that with the recordings of the scavenger dart from earlier, she was working on her nerves.


It hadn’t been a question Raven had really been expecting either. She’d blanked for a moment before asking Match to work out the solution, which the Raitchian had done in a moment or so. It wasn’t – probably – from known space although it wasn’t coming from a direction totally unlike the one they’d just come from, whatever that meant. It wasn’t in visual yet and the Burman reckoned they had about five hours if it stayed at current speed. Hawle had remarked that they were going to try and get this thing moving. She’d bugged her eyes out and flipped her ears back as she shouted ‘it’s SERVICEABLE’ loudly enough to get a rather irritated Professor wincing as she was rather too close to his ear. Now they were waiting and the Professor was grating on her nerves as he walked the bridge impatiently. “Professor,” she barked from Hawle’s seat, “kindly stop wearing a hole in the carpet. We’re stuck here for a time so please park yourself in my normal seat!”

“My apologies, Commander,” the old scientist said, “but I am most anxious to get this experiment done!” He slumped into her chair, winced and pulled his tail around, across his lap. “It’s taken decades to get this far and, now we’re here… Delays! First that ship appears from history and I KNOW it needs to be investigated but now there’s another ship incoming. Part of me,” he raised a hand with his fingers curled like he was holding an invisible bowling ball, “a great part,” he continued, “wants to fire the thing and achieve my destiny in success or failure but it wants to do it NOW, before anything else stops me.” He sighed and slipped back in the chair. “But another part of me knows that’s an important part of our history and needs preserving. And there’s the fact that the resurgence of that sun will cause major radiation and sunspot strikes for hours if not days, rather than the minutes planned so we could welcome an entirely innocent ship with a smack in the face from an igniting sun.”

“Plus it’ll be affecting the gravity of everything around,” Raven reminded him.

“Oh, that’ll probably come into effect slowly. It’s interesting that there’s signs of civilisation on these planets.”

“Hmm,” Raven approved. “a bit larger than most habitable worlds.”

“No,” the Professor said, “it’s not that. Despite what you see in the vids, planets will often survive a dying sun. When a sun dies it releases a vast amount of gases and dusts from it’s surface, revealing its’ core. Once it’s run out of fuel the sun will usually shrink down as this one has done. The nuclear reactions that powered it have ceased. Probably ten thousand years ago. That’s why I admit it’s interesting, Commander. Those buildings are older than our civilizations. I create the future but have an interest in the past.” Another sigh. “My perfect opposite would be an archaeologist with a hobby in social engineering.”

Raven nodded. She’d been doing her best to pay attention but that ship still drew her attention. She’d been sure there was trepidation and concern in Hawle’s scratched voice when he’d asked that question. Did he know something she didn’t? He usually did, with the exception of good Earth Football teams. So she watched it. An hour and a half to visual at current speed.


Bazil told them to try Trichlorodine, a compound that they should have in their medical kis as it was used for cleaning gases and irritant liquids from eyes and Pangal had managed to get herself an idea. She couldn’t fit in the vents but, if they started up the ventilation system and introduced the fluids there, the ventilation system should carry it around the ship. Kendall had agreed it had a chance and she didn’t need that much assistance. Gilly had directed the security Chief to where she needed to be and the Chief had found herself facing a mass of mould that lay halfway across the room, in the systems and, judging by the lump in the mess where there shouldn’t be a lump, someone unfortunate. She looked for something to help her with the mess and found a metal sheet with which to prize the sticky, sweaty, mess off the wall so she could reach the vent. She knew a little something about this. Or, rather, suspected she did. This had to be a science concoction. One of the dark plans of the world in those days. Introduce a biological contaminant to a world, one which can alter the atmosphere of a world so it’s unbreathable… Quite a lot of events of those days were covered and inaccessible now. She pulled the vent clear far too easily and put the fluids from her pack, Kendall’s and Gilly into the vent for release. She put the vent back in place and told Gilly to start the air con up. She heard the rattling and clanking from inside the vent. It was going to take time.


And that’s when Kendall cried out.

[Amazee Dayzee]

Whatever Kendall had run into probably was not something good I imagine as discoveries of anything living on a ghost ship is terrifying. Hopefully they will be able to deal with it before it becomes too big of a problem.

[Welsh Halfwit]

20


<“It’s all right,”> Kendall called, <“It’s all right!”>

Hawle, who’d given passing thoughts to having a heart attack and breaking speed records to get down to the engine room, held up a hand to pause the others in their flight or fight reactions. “It thumping well is NOT all right, Kendall! What happened?”

<“Well, I’m demoulding the, uh, engine couplings and, uh,”> she hesitated, <“a corpse fell on me, sir. It… it was literally stuck to the um, wall and...”>

“Alright, Phelicity,” Hawle told her, taking some deep breaths, “I’d probably have done the same. I’d say take a moment but we’re running the clock. Can you continue?”

<“I think I’ve cleared, um, enough, sir. But we should only use this fluid where needed. I can see wisps of gas coming off it. It might be corrosive.”>

“Fuze, can you confirm?”


Down in the small medical bay, the Raitchian watched over the antiquated system as it chugged through the test and rolled his eyes before running a computer simulation of the test through his own suits systems. He never regarded simulations as truthful as actual physical experiments but, if time was pressing… The simulations came back and he rolled his eyes again. “The worst part of war,” he told the others, “is both sides do things they’d never even consider in other times, then try and hide it ‘for the common good’ after. It’s a biological, two stage, trap. When mixed with Trichlorodine the cells comprising this mould break down and die, yes. But they release Etridium gas as they expire. It’s an acidic gas all right. Ginny, shut down the air conditioning. We’ll need to be venting the atmosphere of this ship before we do anything.”

The noise of the air conditioning stopped.


Hawle wondered if the seat could take his weight. It was a classic Captain’s chair of the time, a pivoting Office chair so that the Captain could turn their whole body around to view any console. It looked rusted and matted and he had the uncomfortable feeling that someone had probably died there. So he stood in front of it. “Maze,” he asked, “you think you can turn us around?”

<“Provided everything goes as planned,”> she replied. Hawle noted the profanic response from Brunton in the squad’s ears. <“Trust me, Detective.”>

<“Do you mind if I get out of the engine first,”> Kendall asked. <“I’ll need to watch the power flow.”> She swallowed noisily enough to be heard on the speakers.

<“Why do you want me turning, sir?”> Maze asked.

“So we’re facing away from that huge lump of rock if Gilly needs to open the rear vents.”


The ship crocheted itself back to life, grumpily banging and cracking in a way that had Hawle thinking about getting most of the group back to the teleport booth. The lights flickered and flashed but most of them remained on as the deckplates shuddered and squirmed underfoot. The inertia dampeners were, it seemed, still on the blink and the team felt every movement as Maze engaged the starboard thrust rockets at near minimal power. The bridge shook as conduits and relays tried to remember how they worked and the bones of the ship creaked from neglect and underuse. Hawle wanted this ship coming out under her own power, fearing she might be too weak to accept the pull of the Loper’s traction beam. He thought it ironic that they’d rescued one ship that was too strong for their beam and now they had one too weak for it. The less pulling that had to be done the better, so the more thrust the geriatric warship provided for herself the better. <“Problem,”> Maze told them. <“One of the thrusters isn’t working. Things’ll get bumpy without it.”>

“Define ‘bumpy’”

<“Uncontrollable spin possibly.”>


“She’s coming about,” Match told the Loper bridge as he watched the power output of the old ship on the scanner. “Looks like she’s having trouble though. Ah, there.” Match zeroed in on a section of hull. “The hull’s supposed to open there to allow for thrust but something’s jamming it. Some sort of organic compound on the inside, seeping out.”

“What can we do,” Raven asked.

Match quickly ran the scenarios. “On the age of the metal. How it might have atrophied. Differences in energy powers between then and now… A starlancer firing accurate shots at minimal power would… No. Even they have too much power these days…”

“These days,” Raven asked.

“Yeah. They had a software and power upgrade with the sevens but…” The Raitchian looked at her. Why was she gri..? Oh. “We have a Starlancer IV in the hanger.”

Now the Professor looked quizzical. “Why do you have an antique fighter aboard?”

“We found it when we rescued the Bellaphron. Our Deck Chief, Jarra, used it in the battle that ensued and got the kills he needed to be declared an ‘ace’. Commander Halriss and Sector Chief Postlethwaite gave it him for services rendered. He sometimes takes it out. Dawton, tell the Chief to get ready and make sure his targetting systems are adjusted correctly this time. Then put me on with the Captain…”


Now Maze was scared. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Jarra. In fact she platonically loved the grouchy old deck chief. But she had noticed he’d started squinting at things from time to time and exercises had him showing only about eighty percent accuracy. She’d heard Hawle get Gilly to disengage the automatic defences so what laughingly got called shields wouldn’t raise automatically and no automated weapons – of which she could see there were a few as this appeared to be a combined station – targetted him in response. She watched with a frozen expression as the rear cameras refused to work and show them the chiefs approach run. She could barely see the blip on the console she was looking at. In fact she couldn’t, a revelation that made her decide the sensors back there weren’t working. It was just the waiting now. The knowledge of a hammer blow without knowing exactly when it will hit. The extreme…


The ship rocked and there was sounds of crunching metal as the bolts from the Starlancer blew the doors off the thruster rocket bay and the ship began turning under the impact. Maze tapped a few controls and flicked a switch to set up a counter blast from the port side to slow the roll and the ship made more noises to emphasise how much it hated this movement. It began to shake and shudder again as Maze took it to ten percent velocity. When Kendall talked to them to tell how noisy it was down here, they could believe it. They could HEAR it as the engineer and the computer tech did their best to route power past non-operational systems as the vessel struggled upwards towards the Loper. “Maze,” Hawle ordered, “you, Gilly and Kendall park this thing about five thousand kays off the Loper. Don’t aim directly at her in case the brakes don’t work. Rest of the team? We’re heading back. Report to the teleport booth.” He closed off his commline. “Now for the next delay,” he said, referring to the incoming ship.

[Amazee Dayzee]

Whatever the next delay is Hawle better think on his feet for it. Doesn't sound like he can deal with too much aggravation at this moment.

[Welsh Halfwit]

First Contact...

21


Changed from his environment suit, Hawle adjusted his epaulettes and made sure they were hanging correctly on his shoulders before positioning his bandolier, realising he hadn’t buttoned up his jacket and working out how to do it without removing the bandolier again. He stepped out from the room and almost walked into Cedar, pulling up short as the Chef stopped himself from hurrying on and apologised for almost being walked into. “Don’t worry about it, Cedar,” Hawle remarked, “you can’t know where I am every second of the day. Where you off to?”

“Well, uh,” he replied, shifting on his feet nervously, “I did hear we were about to have a first contact and I wanted to, um, get a good view and..?”

“Ah,” Hawle said, nodding as he guessed there wasn’t much ‘chance’ about this. He wondered just how long Cedar had been waiting? “Observation port 4 is probably best.” He nodded sagely as the FieldMican sagged slightly and began to slouch onwards. “Only better view would be from the bridge,” Hawle added brightly. “Perhaps you’d care to walk with me? I could do with the protection,” he added, half grinning as the Chef nipped back to his side. “Una’s probably up there,” Aldair continued. “And President Havakar and her daughter, Professor Caltaya, Detective Brunton and, probably, a gogo band that’s formed in the last five minutes.” He put his hand on the Mican’s shoulder. “A friendly face in a crowd is always handy.” He leaned over to look Cedar in the eye. “You ARE friendly, aren’t you?”

He laughed. “Certainly, sir.” He relaxed as they walked. “A chef HAS to be friendly. We know so many ways to poison people and make it look innocent.”

“I’m never eating again,” Hawle claimed as they made it to a bridge that had everything but a gogo band.


Aldair walked around to get to his seat and dusted it off before sitting down. The room was quiet. Expectant. “Has this bridge put on weight,” he asked, breaking the quiet.

“They’re twenty minu… Pardon,” Sarina asked, registering what he’d said. “Oh, I thought they’d want to be here and you wouldn’t mind.”

Hawle demurred. “Yes, you’re right. For future reference,” he added, pointing a finger and knowing he was irritating the heck out of Havakar, although he could hear Sarafina chuckling, “you need to ask.”

“I think I should meet with them,” Havakar announced, pushing herself to the fore.

“Are you sure,” Hawle replied slyly. “They could be hostile.” He looked at the serrated, beak hooked, ship on the screen as it came in closer. “I have nothing against you, Madame President, and won’t stop you from meeting them but it’s my ship. My rules. My duty and my privilege. Dawton, are we in hailing range yet?”

“Indeed, sir… They’re…” He pulled off his headset as the rest heard a buzzing sound. “They’re sending some sort of signal. It’s interacting with our computer system…”

Aldair tapped his comm. “Harvey?”


Down in the computer department, the Jondahl Squirrel youth watched over the computer, inputting instructions to isolate the incoming files as fast as he could. If he had had the time to do it, he’d have flipped himself the right way up but he had no time for that kind of frivolity. He used the hands free option on his comm to reply. “It looks like it’s a language pack, Sir. Running it through now, just to check things. I’ll load it up if clean.”


“On screen,” Hawle announced, heart in throat as Dawton announced they were being hailed. The viewer changed to show the gold coloured interior of the alien ship and the figures inside. They were narrow headed with sharp, piercing, eyes and glinting beaks but it was the green and orange feathered aspect that struck Hawle mostly as he tried not to quail under the intense Avian gaze. He stood up. “I am Commander Hawle, Captain of the Unified Security Council ship ‘Loper’,” he stated with some confidence. He was met with trills and consonants he didn’t recognise. He sighed and tapped his comm. “Harvey, put the program in. I think it’s their language for the translators.”

<“Roger, Wilco.”>

Hawle tried again.


<“I am Hrakar Yakkuk of the Scimak ship ‘Scholl’,” the figure said, making Hawle wonder if there weren’t a few bugs in the translation system. <“We thought it an idea for your computers to know our language. We have heard some of your broadcasts. You people are very noisy.”>

“My apologies for that,” Hawle replied. “And we do appreciate the offer of language. There can be no talk without it. And mistakes made without it.”

<“There is sagacity in wisdom,”> the figure replied enigmatically. <“We did not seek first meetings but we understood it would happen. You have many people wanting much in return for nothing. It was inevitable. We had not expected you here, in the sacred place,”>

Hawle heard people muttering ‘uh, oh’ behind him. He was thinking it himself. “If we have trespassed, we are apologetic. We had come here to cast an experiment,” he said, hoping to continue before they could cut in, “that may serve to light the way forward. We were unaware of any connotations with this place or claim upon it. Furthermore, when we arrived we discovered something most troubling.”

The Avian Captain stayed silent for a moment before replying. <“I will ask about the ‘experiment’ in a moment,”> he said ominously. <“What troubled you and why have you seen fit to steal the dead ship?”>

“Well,” Hawle admitted, “it IS the dead ship that troubled us. It is one of ours from a time when it cannot possibly have gotten out to here. We went aboard to find out what had happened.”

The Avian leaned forward and told him that they had never dared profane the scene. “The ship fell through a hole in space,” Hawle continued. “Then every still living person aboard was abducted by another ship, according to their records.” He described the ship and the Avian’s eyes tightened. His taloned fingers gripped the console in front of him.

<“I know that ship,”> he said. <“Now, tell me about this ‘experiment’.”>

They told him.


He directed them to follow them to home. Or be shot at.

[Amazee Dayzee]

I love it how everybody on "The Loper" appears to be in-sync at all times for the most part. Everybody said "uh-oh" while Hawle was thinking it. XD

[Welsh Halfwit]

22


Stikka watched from the engineering bridge station as the ship followed the Avarra ship away from her goal, towards an exercise in bureaucracy as Havakar occupied his seat and Caltaya paced the scene, lamenting the new delay in testing his toy when he’d been so close to success. An Engineer and a pilot had been assigned to the Mican ship after the purging of the atmosphere and the scouring of the mould, which their hosts had been gracious enough to allow time for as they appreciated the importance of death rituals and the fact that, even two hundred years late, there were principles to every culture. It probably explained the scans they’d made of the Council ship. Then again…

“Professor,” Hawle mentioned stridently, “this sun was selected due to it being unclaimed to the best of our knowledge. As soon as it becomes someone’s sacred site…”

Caltaya waved a hand. “All scientific progress goes out the window! Yes, I know Commander. It just seems like slipping back into superstition and…”

“Like when the Raitchians laid claim to the uninhabited planet of Ulbri,” Havakar asked, referring back to the very beginnings of the war they’d just recently been involved in.

Hawle knew this was the first encounter between the Celicans and a ‘prey’ race, when the Raitchians had landed on one of the celebrated hunting planets and tried to claim it. The reaction from the Celicans had been to attack the colonists. After all, it was their world and the intruders were weak, weren’t they? The Raitchians had suddenly remembered that, even though they’d fought with them before, the Micans were fellow granivores and, hey, didn’t that creature they’d pictured look like Lappineans, those weird, long eared, burrowers who probably wouldn’t like these people who ate them? The Celicans had called on the pointy eared brigade with liquid spines and offered olive branches to those Lupine fellows they knew. And the Canines told everyone to stuff it.

“That was completely…”

“The same,” Hawle interrupted swiftly. “It’s just one of the times that we’re supposed to have learned it’s rude to trample on someone’s grave without their permission, Professor. Now,” he continued, gesturing to the ship on screen, “a thousand things could happen now. They might say ‘fine, go ahead’. They might say ‘here’s one you can use’.” He leaned forward subtly. “They might be able to tell us what happened to all those crew that were taken. Their descendents might still be alive. On the other hand,” he added, “if we’d fired we might have the answer. We might also start a war that could decimate half the quadrant. Again.”

Caltaya fumed but stopped himself arguing. “I take your point,” he groused.

“Now that’s done,” Hawle finished, turning towards Stikka in a way that had the Racon think he was about to talk to him, “Match,” he said.


The Raitchian science officer knew what the Captain wanted. He’d not asked for it but he’d known the Lappinean long enough to gain a little telepathy at times. He had, indeed, been scanning the alien vessel since they’d started up. In fact he’d got the impression that he was being allowed to for some reason. He filled the crew in on what they’d learned. The gravity on the ship was lower, of course (Hawle had nodded like that was obvious), but the power systems were operating at a greater burn rate. He presumed this was to power their version of inertia dampeners at velocity speeds. They’d need to be higher as they’d be crushed into bulkheads at lower speeds than a Council ship if you adjust for their atmosphere, which was within tolerable limits but he’d not advise being in it too long without help from a breather unit.

“Well, “Hawle said patiently, “that gives us the people. Now, about the ship?”

“Oh, um, right.” Match coughed to hide his embarrassment. “It looks like their engines are comparable to ours, sir, It’s possible they can rate 4.5 for some time. Likely 5 for a short time. Their weapons appear to be photonic based and I can’t tell how powerful because they’re not powered up… Which they are now.”

“Raise shie…” Raven started, before Hawle shushed her with a gesture.

The Lappinean had a grin on his face. “You might as well call,” he said sweetly, “as we know you’re listening.”


Dawton started as a request for communications came in and Hawle answered, facing the same Avian as before. Possibly. “I take it there was still a low lying scanning beam listening to us,” he asked.

<“It seemed prudent,”> The Yakkuk replied carefully. <“Truth often comes when you do not know you are being heard. The head jerked sideways to look at the Professor. <“As you have been told, teacher, there would have been bad feeling if you had acted. Moreso if you had acted with knowledge. Your retired leader was right to reprimand and remind you of lessons past.”> Brunton took Caltaya’s arm as warning when he heard the Professor mutter that Havakar wasn’t his president quietly.


The noise from the engines was running high now; through usage as the team kept things stable. Katara turned from her console as she caught the faint whiff of scent enhancer that had been applied yesterday in the air. “So,” she told Sarafina, “you’re back?” She moved to another console, deliberately not turning to face the youth. “Glutton for punishment,” she asked.

“It’s, uh, often quicker to learn through pain,” Sarafina replied hopefully, looking over the engineer’s shoulder at what was reading on the console.

Katara sighed. “You want pain,” she asked rhetorically, “I have something for you then. You know how to recalibrate the fusion locks and purge the static seals?”

“Yes, I…”

“Good. Get to work, supporting Jan.” She handed her a small toolpack from next to the console. “Jan,” she repeated. Sarafina looked blank. Katara rolled her eyes. “Human female? The one who was nice to you?”

Realisation dawned. “Oh! Yes, of course… This isn’t an essential thing, is if?”

“You think I’m sending YOU to something essential,” Katara scoffed. “No, but I need two on it for optimal use and I just had to send one back on that old ship so I’m one down. You’re here? You’re filling. Get!”

Sarafina got to work, rushing past the Corgan in her haste to get to the Human and help… she paused for a second. Purge the static shields? Oh, THAT was what the silver Vixen had meant by learning through pain. The inevitable static shocks. She grimaced and returned to her path, a little slower than before.

[Amazee Dayzee]

Hey she said that she wanted to learn through pain as that was the best way to learn and now she is going to. Make sure that you watch what you say around ANYBODY who is apart of the Loper. I know Elena does!~

[Welsh Halfwit]

23


Hawle sat back in his command chair as the evening dragged on, having exhausted the attentions of Presidents and Professors. He had his feet on Sarina’s chair as she was on dinner. He had a ball in hand that he proceeded to toss into the air and catch several times as they followed their hosts towards wherever they called home, which looked like being a planet in the SK10 system some three days hence. He gave thought to the pair he’d left on the Fawren ship. They’d be a week away from home by now, using the shuttle he’d left them as a base for when they wanted food or rest. He wondered if they were having as boring a time as he was. He tossed the ball and caught it. And again. “Chappers,” he said, almost sliding off his chair in his languidity, “are we there yet?”

“No, sir,” she replied, having expected the question for quite some time, “If we were approaching a planet I’d tell you so we can avoid hitting it.”

Pulling himself back up to safety in his seat, Hawle looked around at the evening shift. “Isn’t your replacement he… Oh, right. It was Ensign Raddy, wasn’t it? Acting Captain of the Fawren ship without a name.” He pulled up the roster and examined it. He tapped the comm. “Hawle to Raven.”

“Yes, Captain,” the voice replied, making him look at his comm as it didn’t sound like it came from his comm. He shook it. “I’m standing behind you, sir,” she said, making him twist in the chair. “Reporting for the night shift. The Soubi loaf is quite acceptable.”

“You say that about all the Feline food.” He shrugged and remembered his comm was draining so he turned it off. “I think it’s because you know I can’t eat them. However, there IS something you forgot.”

“Possibly, sir, it’s been a long day. Why is Sarah st… oh, right.” She slapped her head.

“Have Ensign Chartwell report here in two hours. He’s been off for six hours and wants time at the helm.” He stood up and headed to Sarah’s station. “Lieutenant Polva,” he stated, “you are relieved. Go snog Edelmar.”

“Th...thank you, sir,” Sarah replied, hearing a giggle or two from the others. She pushed herself around and, puffing lightly, levered herself up.

“Take the bucket.” He handed it to her and took her seat.


Sarah made her way towards their quarters and made way for Colleen to pass but the ambassador stopped as she did and looked at the bucket. “Still carrying it around,” she asked with amusement.

“Captain insists,” she replied, looking at the plastic container. “Just in case. Although I’m past that stage now, according to Night.”

Colleen moved a hand towards the womb but recalled her manners and pulled it back. “May I,” she asked.

“Of course. Thanks for asking.” She allowed Colleen to put her hand gently on the womb, allowing no real pressure but thinking well of the warmth as… she winced. “Ow.”

“What,” Colleen asked, pulling her hand back as though she feared she’d broken something. She’d felt something strike her hand. Had a rib popped or something? She doubted it but…

Sarah chuckled. “The baby kicked is all,” she said, enjoying the relaxing of her friend’s face. “First time,” she added breathlessly.

Colleen shook her head, the graceful fur shaking almost hypnotically in front of her. “The first time is when Edelmar’s holding you, yes?”

Sarah nodded. She got it. “Thanks, Colleen.” She shuffled past. “See you later?”

“Of course, Sarah. Give Edelmar a kiss from me?”

“Not a chance,” Sarah replied, allowing a twinkle in her eye to show she wasn’t taking the offer seriously.

Colleen, for her part, returned to her apartment, where she was holding informal talks with the former President and her bodyguard, and announced that Cedar would be providing food in a short time.


“Ow,” Sarafina said as the tickle of electricity jumped up her arm from the metal covering the engine seals. She shook her arm and tried to smooth down some of the fur.

“If you’ve not got rubber gloves,” Jan told her, “try touching with just your claws. “

“These are manicured,” the Celican told the Human. “Mum insists on them looking their best.” She glanced at them before deciding the Human was probably right as the screen showed the internal build up was flattening out, sending the power build trickling into the system for general use.

The Human looked up at her from where she’d been working under the console. “Better engineering than maintenance then,” she told her. “That’d really chip the claws. Readings?”

“Dropping to normal, Jan. Next one’s mine?” She offered a hand to help the Human up.

“If you think you’re ready for it, Sara.” Jan replied, accepting the strong arm to shift herself back upright. The pair moved to the next section and, this time, Sarafina lay down on the trolley to pull herself under the console and Januvitski pulled on her latex gloves to protect against the shocks. Showing a little of her inexperience, it took Sarafina a moment to take the panel off and start work as Jan told her the readings and gave some advice on where to adjust and manipulate. “So,” Jan asked lightly, “why the U.S.C.? And it won’t go any further if you don’t want it to.”

Sarafina said nothing for a moment, concentrating on her work as Jan crouched to watch the console lights play across her uniform and check that things were going right.. “Oh,” she said eventually, “I, er, suppose I can, uh, tell you…” Jan straightened up and gave a reading before Sarafina continued, “I want to, um, get out from under my Mother’s thumb.”

“Ah, well,” Jan replied, leaning on the console, “the service will certainly do that, Sara. You’ll go months without meeting your family.”

“Isn’t that lonely,” Sarafina asked, finishing the work under the console and reattaching the plating.

Jan checked her timer. A few moments slower than she’d have done but the work was good. “Nah,” she told the youthful Vixen as she helped her back up. “You’ll find friends more than fill the gap and,” she added, noting the newcomer was about to protest something, “I don’t think you’ll have any trouble making friends. After all,” she added, “you’ve made a couple already, haven’t you?”

This time the smile on Sarafina’s face wasn’t nervous or faked for formality.


Night sat on her sofa and leaned into the kiss David Brunton was happily giving her, pushing her down onto the surface gently in their joint passion. The alert sounded. Yellow alert. “Bragarrin,” he said into her chest fur.

[Amazee Dayzee]

I can see how overbearing mothers can be the worst even though I don't have one myself. Though it does make for a good story if mommy dearest pops up.

[Welsh Halfwit]

24


Hawle swept back to the command chair as, showing off his muscles, Edelmar Polva carried his wife onto the bridge and put Sarah down in the pilot’s seat. Good to see his comment about getting her there as fast as possible had been taken seriously, Hawle thought. “Nice to see you, Edelmar,” he said in greeting.

“Thank you, sir,” he said as his wife strapped in carefully.

“Now get the heck offa my bridge,” Hawle said in dismissing. “Take the Professor with you,” he added as the Professor arrived on the bridge to protest what was going on, despite Detective Bruton’s best explanation that they really shouldn’t be. “Place him under arrest if you have to,” he added, quieting the Celican’s planned protestations.

“Come along, sir,” Polva said, gently pointing the way back as he reached the annoyed Celican. “In an alert they need to do their jobs,” he told the academic placidly, “I am sure the Commander will brief all our guests on the situation afterwards.”


The trio passed beyond hearing before Hawle muttered to Sarah that he’d get Polva for that sooner or later. She chuckled. “Aye, sir. What’s the emergency?”

“Remember those upgraded weapons that we were planning to test out on this trip?”

“The, uh, magnetic charged pulse cannons,” she asked. “Yeah..?”

“Well, the test just got real. They’re based on an old weapons system that channelled about ninety percent of a ships power into a pair of shots that stuck…”

Sarah nodded and held up a hand. “Commander Halriss told me all about them, ssir...sir,” she corrected, dropping the Osiran sibilance on the second attempt. “Modern ships don’t use that power.”

“Monta’s been working on it, Sarah. They reckon they have much of the problem licked and were needing to move beyond simulation tests to practical when they heard we were coming out here. So they paid for the weapons upgrades.”

“I’ve been working on integrating things,” Ravar said from the weapons station. The normally taciturn canine was practically wagging his Alsan tail at the thought of being able to use his experience.

“As I say,” Hawle continued, “we were supposed to test it on some comets or asteroids or… Well, not THIS.”

He tapped some buttons and the viewscreen switched to long range, ahead of the Council and Alien ships. Where a dart like ship was on the screen before them. “Oh, $#*(,” Sarah said.

“Yeah,” Hawle agreed. “Our Avarran escort has agreed to change course to stay away from them but you know how… territorial they can get and there’s another possibility.”

“Sir,” Sarah asked.

“They might recognise us,” Hawle replied.


Katara had to calm the overly excited Celican as Sarafina panicked at the sound of the yellow alert. “Control yourself,” she said sternly, holding the youth by the arms. “It means we’re heading into some situation. You’ve done well today but you’re NOT on staff so you need to go to the secure room now.” She noted Polva and his charges going by. “Edelmar,” she called. “Got another for your wagon train! Express to the safe zone.” He didn’t so much encourage Sarafina to go towards the Russelian as throw her at him and she came to a staggered stop just before smacking, face first, into his chest.

“Welcome to the group,” Caltaya told her, gently helping her to her feet. “The ranks of the needs to be protected and, currently, useless.”

“When it comes to science work, Professor,” Brunton put in, “you’re going to be useful.”

“Of course,” Caltaya preened. “But, for now, you should go add to security.” He stopped as they reached the safe room, where a guard was ushering people in. “I think I’m safe enough here,” he finished. “Along with.. Where’s the girl gone?” He looked around, as did Edelmar.

“Oh, for… HOW did she do that,” the Russellian asked plaintively. “Katara’s going to kill me.” He sighed. “ONE for the safe zone,” he announced.

Caltaya moved into the room where, amongst those waiting amongst the scientists and non-combatants and children were President Havakar and the Mican Chef. As Brunton left him to look for a duty station and Polva went off to look for Sarafina and get to his station. “Good afternoon, madame President,” he stated, hoping she wouldn’t ask about her daughter.

“Good afternoon, Professor,” she replied as her bodyguard made sure she had no-one getting too close. “No bodyguard,” she asked civilly.

“I decided he’d be more useful helping to defend the ship,” Caltay replied, a little icily as he glanced at her protection.


Sarafina looked out from a passageway as Edelmar went past and breathed out. He’d not detected her. It wasn’t that she hadn’t wanted to go in there. She kind of had. But it was just that… She wanted to prove herself useful and her mother was in there so she’d never get a chance if she went in there. Her mother would control everything as she always did and this passage went on forever, didn’t it? She headed down a few passages at random, opened a door and stepped in to make sure she wasn’t swept up.

Something blinked at her from the dark before Harvey Winsome flipped down to the floor and approached her. “Who are you,” he asked suspiciously.

“Uh, Sarafina Havakar,” she said uncertainly, a little confused and thrilled to be meeting a Squirrel-person. Was it against their ethics to offer a hand?

“Daughter of the President we currently have on board,” a Raitchian said from the computer console she was working at, whoch had a picture of a dart shaped ship on it as text scrolled beside it.

“I know that, Gilly,” Harvey told her, keeping his gaze intently on Sarafina. “I mean what’s she doing here?”

“I’m looking to prove myself, Mr Winsome,” Sarafina said, feeling a little confidence building as she spoke. “I, er, can’t do that from a secure room so I thought I might…”

“Be protection for us,” Harvey finished. “Help’s always welcome. “Fight anything that comes through that door. You can fight, yeah,” he asked.

Sarafina thought back over all the lessons she’d never used and found it was easier than she’d expected to bring some of those moves back to her brain. “I believe so,” she said. “When did I learn your name, Harvey?”

He grinned before heading back to his computers. “I just told you,” he said, deciding not to reveal all his secrets just yet.


“It’s changing course,” Match advised. “Ten minutes until weapons range.”

“Ready to raise shields,” Hawle told the bridge. “Dawton.” He paused a beat. “Sound battle stations.”

[Amazee Dayzee]

About time we end up getting a ship to ship battle. Also who knew that Sarah could be so vulgar? Makes me wondering if Aldair also uses a lot of curses.

[Welsh Halfwit]

25


Tha Avian Captain – or whatever the rank was – appeared on Hawle’s screen as the moments ticked down to potential conflict. <“I see you’re ready for battle,”> he stated, flexing his thin, talon-tipped, fingers as his eyes tried to bore into Hawles soul like an Earth Hawk after a similarly planetted Rabbit. He’d visited there the once, years ago, to watch a socc… football match and a Red Kite had tried it’s best to pick him up. He’d been quite amused until it tried to peck his nose off. But now he wasn’t planning on running.

“It seemed prudent,” he told Yakkuk. “Every time we’ve met one of these things it’s declared ‘this is ours’ and tried to kill us.”

The Avian half blinked and Hawle gotthe impression that this was the equivalent of nodding. <“Their race is a scavenger one,”> he admitted. <“They forever seek what they’ve never had before. The raising of defences is a logical move. You may wish us to lead the encounter, though. We have a lot of experience with these things.”>

“Understood. But it is, probably, us that they’re after so we’ll be ready to defend ourselves. And you if needed.”

Another half blink. Did that mean yes or just ‘my eyes are tired’? Oh, for a body talk specialist. Five minutes, according to his comm. Time to get back on the bridge. “Time to get ready for the encounter,” he said, standing up and turning off the comm.


He stepped back onto a bridge that was abuzz with noise, from Raven ordering a minor course correction to Ravar commenting that the new weapons appeared to be holding steady and complaining that he’d not had a chance to fire them yet. Stikka advised him he’d be doing that soon as Hawle stepped back to his chair and sat down. Four minutes. He engaged the restraints as Jaqui finished deploying the two guards to the bridge and headed off to her main position near Engineering.


Maze Hardy finalized her prep talk to her fighter wing and dispatched them to their individual fighters as the Chief of the Deck wandered over to wish her luck. “Not sure I believe in luck,” she replied.

He coughed. “Thanks to dye,” he told her, his voice crackling slightly with a bit of swallowed phlegm, “I’ve been a black cat once or twice. Luck exists.”

She shrugged. “In that case…” She leaned in and kissed the elder Feline, putting a hand to the side of his head to hold him there for a moment, in which his eyes went from shocked to closed, his mouth went from closed to open and his tongue went from his mouth to hers.

He pulled back. “Think I’m too old for you, Maze,” he said, “but it’s nice to be thought of.” He headed away.

“Drat,” Maze grumbled as she got into the ship amid the whoops and calls of the other deck workers, “must be getting broody.” She pulled her helmet down and attached the clamps before closing the canopy and readying for launch. The Chief, she decided, tasted like Tuna. Now they just needed to wait for the ship to slow from velocity speeds. She began her weapons check and instructed her pilots to shut their mouths about the kiss and get their pre-launch checks done. They commenced complying.


Bazil and Night and their nurses had sickbay down and dusted for the dirty that was coming their way. The couple of squad medics had been dispatched to Jaqui and she’d sent them on to their positions. As it was now, thought, Jaqui was with them, apologising for the fact she couldn’t spare much for the defence here. “I’m pushed with defending the points I’m having to defend,” she admitted. The bridge, Engineering, the safe zone, the halls…”

“It’s no trouble,” Night told her, readying a pistol Fuze had been a little surprised to see her extract from her usually locked drawer.

“You have a gun,” he asked

“Obviously.”

“Why don’t I have a gun? I want a gun!”

“I trust ME with a weapon,” Night told him.

“Good to know you’re trained on it,” Jaqui told her. “You can keep this guy safe.” She thumbed over her shoulder and Brunton appeared, slightly adjusting the security vest he’d been given and checking the stun bolt pistol to make sure it was fully charged as Jaqui headed away quickly.

“Not going in the safe zone, Detective,” Bazil asked playfully.

“Uh? Oh, no,” he replied, glancing up, “after all, I can help so, uh, shouldn’t I?” He decided to stop trying to put the gun back in the holster as it obviously wasn’t going in.

Night stepped over and helped him with the helmet. “Love you, David,” she said quietly.

“I was pretty sure of that,” he replied with a smile as, with the others looking away, he gave her a peck kiss on the lips. “Now, y’know,” he said at normal volume, “if anything gets past me…”

“Avenge you?”

“Nah. Throw Bazil at them and run.”

“Love you too, Detective,” Bazil commented.


The ships slammed down from velocity speeds between star systems, close to an asteroid field and manoeuvring for position, the Scimak ship keeping her nose in front as the protector. She’d raised her shields and Match had analysed that it seemed to be putting out a different signature to theirs so he worked on adjusting the Loper’s shield harmonics to match if these Avians had fought the scavengers before. He noted, of course, that they didn’t say how well they’d done… The bridge noted him putting the shields on as the lighting dimmed. He could feel them looking at him. “Their harmonics are different,” he explained. “I added some extra drain on the power supply to more closely match them. Figured it would be best to affect the lighting a bit.”

“Agreed,” Hawle sighed, “I’m going to have to start trying to rule by fear, aren’t I? Ask next time.”

“Sir,” Match replied.

Ahead of them, the scavenger ship slapped back into normal space. “Sir,” Dawton said, “they’re hailing the both of us.”

“Connect with the Avians and put us on.”


The message was simple.


They’d heard it before.

[Amazee Dayzee]

Gee I wonder what the message is supposed to be that they heard before? Couldn't possibly be something about backing off and surrendering or they would be destroyed could it?

[Harry Johnathan]

He’d visited there the once, years ago, to watch a socc… football match.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

“Think I’m too old for you, Maze,” he said, “but it’s nice to be thought of.” He headed away.

Also, awww.

[Amazee Dayzee]

We need some May-December romances within this universe to make it more unique. Give us a couple to root for.

I put Elena at least 4 years behind Hawle though. She definitely is a very absurdly youthful Councilwoman.

[Welsh Halfwit]

26


The dart came in, trying to bring a wedge between the two ships and leaving it unclear which as the bigger threat as Maze’s fighter wing launched. Hawle had ordered the Raitchian to stay back and attack only if a weakness was detected or to try and pull the enemy off the targeted ship. Maze wasn’t stupid enough to argue with him on this and kept as out of the way as she could. The Avian ship turned and she noted it had a tighter turn circle than the Loper did, possibly to do with the ship building techniques as it got on the tail of the dart.


The Avian fired, ball lightning energy coursing across space and exploding on the shielding of the opposing craft as Chapst… no, Maze reminded herself, Polva… engaged an evasion pattern she recognised as Chappers 12, twisting down and to the starboard whilst pushing the gravity stabilisers inside to their limit with a tight, backwards, twist to attempt to target the dart. The fire from the dart skidded across the Lopers shielding, showing as a yellow dash on the canopy of Maze’s ship. Energy trails were often so dull as to be invisible so ships had computer enhancements, meaning they stood out more so could be avoided. This stressed the importance of calibration so that her own cannons didn’t dazzle her. She watched as the Loper corkscrewed up, and over to try and shoot the Dart from above. Her readouts indicated standard weapons. The shields on the thing didn’t flinch as it tried to get back on the USC ship’s tail.


She mused. Her systems had indicated a five percent drop in the Dart’s shields after the Avian’s shot. They weren’t after the ship that could damage them but WERE after the Loper? Wasn’t making much sense there?


Donnika Parsons, recovering engineer at large in a wheelchair, was almost wishing he’d stayed aboard the liner right now. He was taking up room in the safe zone, room which could be better occupied by one of the Doctors who’d saved his life or, he thought with surprising humour, a certain one of the nurses. His new lungs still crackled in his mind and, possibly, in his body. He still had a rasp like a classic vidshow diva and the chair was, at least, keeping him moving and in communication with what was going on out there. He could feel their movement in concert with the ship. Even with the brake on, the wheels shifted slightly with every movement and pushed up slightly with every dive. Down slightly with every climb. Put them all together and an engineer could tell. The room shuddered and he would have toppled out if it weren’t for the older Celican male grasping the side and putting him back in amidst the cries of others. Donnika thanked him.

“No trouble, young sir,” Caltaya replied and Donnika wondered why this Celican looked so familiar. The older one sat down in a spare chair. “What happened to you?”

Donnika thought of a dozen things he’d rather talk about but there was something diverting about discussing it now. It might keep his mind off how useless he was. So he told of how he’d ended up on the Liner and how he’d stood his ground to save the passengers and how his lungs had been pretty much melted and why he was in the chair and drinking this vile concoction that was beginning to become a favourite drink. “Nyartin gas,” he finished, taking a sip from his drink and blinking several times. “Not your friend.”

“I’d say not. You’re quite a brave Raitchian. From Overtia 9, by any chance?”

Donnika stopped, mid sip. “How… How’d you..?”

Caltaya gave him a gentle look as the ship shuddered and people looked around in panic. “I as there… ooh, twenty years back? I helped design a few things and got to know the locals. You’re getting your accent back.” He gently prodded the Raitchian’s side. So you’re an engineer, eh? Any good?”

Donnika looked slightly indignant. “I have qualifications.”

“So do back street garage mechanics,” Caltaya grinned, before holding up his hands. “No, no. I’m not doubting you but… I take it they fired you?”

Donnika grumbled. “Cheaper than paying things,” he replied.

“More fool them,” Caltaya grumbled as the ship rocked. “Everyone has injuries sometime. Tell me,” he added, thinking back to one of the many technical troubles he’d had with the project. “If you have a Permitta 12 power board and a Sigway X14alpha plasma feed, how do you eliminate the charge load?” He listened as Donnika thought of an answer and made queries.


Hawle held onto his chair as the ship shook again and Match reported in that shields were running at about half power right now whilst Dawton relaid Maze’s observations. He kept his teeth clamped so as to avoid biting his tongue and waited for the reverb to did down before turning to Ravar on weapons. “Time to test the new weapons, Ravar,” he advised tightly. “I don’t know what we’ve done to honk this guy off but I’m sick of him!”

“Aye, sir,” the Alsan said grimly, switching the power feeds to the new settings as Polva brought the ship down towards the dart, twisting to keep the ship out of direct fire as the Avian came in from behind it.

Twin bolts of green tinged energy shot from the Loper’s front cannons and slammed into the Dart’s shields, flecking jagged energy across the field and sparking for several seconds.

“Their shields are down fifteen percent, from that shot,” Match called out.

“Why’d we not lead with that,” Raven asked as the dart moved to try and get back on the Loper’s tail, lashing her with fire as it crossed atop.

“Because we haven’t tested the weapons, Sarina,” Stikka advised as Ravar fired again. “It doesn’t make sense to possibly kill ourselves with out own guns.”

“All true,” Hawle snapped. “But utterly irrelevant! Ravar, load torpedo!”

“On it,” Ravar announced, using the automated system to prepare a sleek tube of death into the revamped launcher system whilst continuing to fire the new weapon. He made sure he wasn’t using the Professor’s special one as he wished they’d put in an aft launcher but, he pondered, that would need an aft torpedo store and, frankly, he wasn’t that fond of these things. “I remind you that we’ve not had a chance to completely calibrate these things..”

“Understood, Ravar.” Hawle nodded. “Chappers? Our friend appears to be speeding. Please act accordingly.”

“Sir.” She engaged full reverse with a starboard downwards twist so the dart only shook the roof as shields clashed and something exploded inside the ship somewhere.

His ship, Hawle thought, was hurt. “Target that thing,” he ordered, keeping his voice low. “Fire torpedo.”

“Power conduits about to overload,” Match called...

[Amazee Dayzee]

Guess even Hawle has a breaking point when it comes to enemies attacking his ship. When the facade of silliness drops than you know things are serious.

[Welsh Halfwit]

27


Sarafina picked herself up off the sofa she’d just been thrown into, face first as the shipquake subsided, the impact or blast fading into the near past. She felt a bit groggy and her ears were ringing as she put a hand to her head and felt something a bit wet on her hand. She winced and tried to remember where she was as she looked at the sparking hole in the wall. It was fuzzy around the edges and she realised that was her eyes, not the wall. The other two here were being rather quiet, weren’t they? Wait? What other two? Oh, yeah. The computer nerks… She looked over and wondered how to get to them as power lines, loosed from the wall, were hissing and sparking and… She knew how to turn this off. She lurched towards the room’s power box and yipped slightly as she felt it. It was hot. It must be a power overload in the switcher system. The box hadn’t detected the problem in the room. It might do soon but those arcing lines might hit someone in the meantime so she steeled herself against the heat and opened the cover, knowing what she’d find from the smell.


An electrical fire lit up the display with green flickers of flame that lapped around the controls she needed. She resisted closing her eyes as she’d miss the controls and felt the power burning her pads and black hand fur as she reached in and pushed the switch. It was stuck. She grimaced and forced it home, cutting the power and she pulled her scorched hand back as the energy in the room powered off and the fragment that had jammed the switch fell loose. Gilly jumped across a line that she wasn’t sure was quite dead and grabbed a medical pack to treat… Harvey. Sarafina’s face dropped slightly as she held her wounded hand but the words of her mother’s bodyguard drifted back to her. You treated the ones who couldn’t talk first. She made her way over and knelt next to the fallen Squirrel. He’d hit the bulkhead hard, it seemed. She knelt and put her hand down, yelped in pain and pulled the damaged one up again. “He… ok,” she said, gasping at how odd her voice sounded.

“Just stunned,” I think, “Gilly’s voice washed in her ears, like a wave coming in and going out. “You?”

“Living,” she said tightly.

“Can’t reconnect the power until the fire’s out,” Gilly told her, running the scanner over the burned hand and giving the Vixen a pain killer tablet. “Probably a ruptured conduit out there. Can you go assess?”

Sarafina stood up, adrenaline charging her muscles and mind as quickly as the killer doused her pain. “Absolutely, ma’am,” she said with determination, heading for the door.

“Saffy,” Gilly said, dragging her back into the room. “Extinguisher,” she added, pointing to a moderately sized cyliner on the wall by one of the fallen cables.


Katara cursed as she battled the systems to get damage control back on line. She wanted the computer people on it but they weren’t answering. The conduit had filled the main route to their place was blocked, according to Kirrie Muir and the manual cut off was in the blocked section. Add to that the fact that the teleport control was down and her teams were working hard to keep weapons and shields up and she knew what had caused the blowout. It had been their own weapons overloading the power grid. She’d seen it before, when working on the Karrimar and she knew how to prevent it happening again but that didn’t help NOW. Still, at least the engines were fine. “We need to vent passageway 12 if we can’t get to that power box,” she called to Januvitski. “But sensors are down in that are! Get down there with a hand sensor! Now, Jan!”


Sarafina stepped over the bulkhead door and into a mess of metal and circuits strewn across the floor and walls from the gaping hole in the wall some fifteen feet away. She could feel the heat from here as she moved forward, trying not to overload her fried hand with the pain of holding the extinguisher. Hadn’t she heard that scorched pads could ‘glue’ themselves to tightly gripped items somewhere? She was holding the extinguisher with her other hand alone, almost swinging it behind her. She could smell the fire more than see it and… The extinguisher clunked on something. She looked back. A blackfur sat against the wall. She almost apologised before she noted the stripe of blood against the throat and the metal pieces in the chest and face. She swallowed. She was Celican. She’d be sick later. She had something to do. The air was becoming hostile now, the closer she got to the main switch. At least she didn’t need to hunt for it. She could see it in the conduit. Beyond the worst of the flames and before the main area of damage in the walkway. She tried to reach it but there was nothing doing. The heat beat her back. Or was it her fears? Sarafina contorted her face as she forced her damaged hand into use, helping her good hand to aim the nozzle at the fire and pressing the trigger.


The effect almost knocked her back but she planted her feet and kept the pressure going, bathing the control panel in powder and pushing back the flames. Her eyes were streaming now. Could she hear someone? It sounded like someone was shouting. Her ears were working again, it seemed. “I can…” She coughed and tried again at volume. “I can hear you!” She stopped the extinguisher and put her arm back in.

“Sarafina,” the voice said sharply, as though not believing it. The flames were coming back in on her as she tried to operate the panel. “What are you doing there?”

“Burning,” the vixen strained, pushing on the switch as the fire worked on her upper arm this time. She could see the fur wilting and turning black under the heat and physical damage as she got to the… got it! She pushed the switch up to the ‘off’ position and the fuel for the fire was cut, turning off the lights in the section of passageway. Sarafina coughed at the inhaled smoke and wondered why she smelled freshly prepared meat in her nose, amidst the burning clean smells. She reasoned it must be her. The adrenaline was fading. “I, er, I shut off the power,” she called to Jan.

“Good girl,” Jan called back. Why did the compliment make her tail wag? “Are you OK?”

“I...I’m alive,” she said. “I, er, have burns to my arm and a small, um, headwound. Oh, and Mister Winsome is hurt! I was in his room with him and Gilly!”

“Get back in there,” Jan called. “Seal the door! I’ll get the message to the rescue people and they’ll come for you!”

“Un...understood, Jan!” She started back.

“And Saffy?”

“Yes, Jan.”

“Stay safe, will you?”

That tail was wagging again. She shushed it and headed back to the Tech team’s room.


After she’d gotten in and shut the door, Januvitski relayed the message to engineering. Katara noted the fire wasn’t dying fast enough so vented the atmosphere in that area for several seconds, then sent new air in to repressurise.

[Amazee Dayzee]

They better be able to get that fire put out quickly because a fire on a ship is NEVER a good thing. Plus I think Hawle might keel over if his precious Loper gets destroyed.

[Welsh Halfwit]

28


There was no sound of launching from here. Hawle always thought there should be some sort of ‘Shff’ or ‘thump’ whenever they launched but he wasn’t thinking on that now. He just wanted this over with. That thing destroyed or disabled. He wanted it gone as he wasn’t quite thinking straight now. There was too much danger to his ship in it and he knew the ship was wounded. The thrust of the explosion had advised him, even as Match told them where. Harvey and Gilly. He’d think of them later. When there was time. And he needed to make that time now. He watched as the tube thundered through space towards the target, the weapon tracking the enemy from the output of it’s power signature, locked onto the ship and matched it, move for move, it’s smaller size and greater thrust helping it close the distance. The missile scored a near hit, the target jinking away at the last second to avoid it. It still caught the edge of the explosion, though, the blast effect throwing it away, crumpling the hull around the engines and exposing some of its inner circuitry. Mentally, Hawle fist pumped. The enhanced cannon capabilities had done their job and weakened the shields enough for them to get through. Shots from the Avian ship helped drive the point home and Hawle had Ravar switch back to standard weaponry as Match relayed to him about Katara having to fight to keep the power up.


Smaller bursts of energy shimmered past to impact the damaged section of the ship and Hawle reasoned that it had to be Maze getting in on things. There was a smell of burning coming from somewhere in the ship and he hoped that wasn’t close and that Jaqui was dealing with it. Sarina was checking that now as the Dart exploded, sending shards of itself in all directions.

“Stikka,” Hawle stated, “damage report. Dawton… answer that.”

The human looked a little confused. “Answer what, sir?”

Hawle paused for a second. “I thought they would have called. OK, try calling the Avians.”

“We have considerable damage to electrical systems on deck four following overloads,” Stikka reported, “hull damage in sections Alpha fifteen through eighteen. One starboard thruster is out. The sickbay reports three dead and ten wounded. There’s at least one more death confirmed but we don’t know who it is as we need a team to remove the debris from the passageway close to the IT centre.”

“Send a team down there with a cutting blade and clear that route.”

“Sending maintenance team Beta,” Stikka replied.


Polva picked up his emergency pack on the run as Wardell took the pulse saw from the charger unit and followed on, the pair picking up the Mican Abernethy and squad medic Torpor on the way dorn to the blockage. He looked at the pile up of conduits and pipes after they opened the nearest bulkhead door. “Abernethy,” he said, looking to a gap near the ceiling. “Reckon you can get through there?”

The Mican looked up at the gap and swallowed. He didn’t know anything about the situation on the other side. There might be no floor. There might be no ceiling. There was, at least, an atmosphere or they’d never have been able to get through the door.”Is this a Mican thing,” he asked, preparing to climb the debris.”

“No, it’s a ‘you’ll fit’ thing,” Polva replied. “We need to know what it’s like over there.” He gripped the Mican and strained to lift him up to the gap as the Mican got thick gloves on and took a small medical kit from Torpor.. The area stunk but Abernethy reckoned he could get through, justabout. He pulled himself over sharp, jagged pieces of mangled metal that had come down from an area of ceiling, if he judged the inlaid lighting as any proof. He pushed his head through into the darkness and engaged his light to check out the floor and if it was safe to climb down. He threw a line back to the others to give them an accurate estimation of the distance blocked before he climbed out. “Didn’t you say there were people over here,” he asked. “Floor’s sound,” he added, jinking aside as an object fell from the ceiling. “Sounder than the ceiling anyhow.” He sniffed. “There’s been a fire in here. Explains the bulkhead. They sealed it to vent and restore, I suppose.”

“Usually the way,” Wardell replied.

“Blockage esitmated at six feet in width,” Polva stated his voice carrying through the gap. Wardell, start selecting beams to cut. I’ll hold them steady. Abs, scout ahead. You should find the IT department. There’s three in there, I hear.”


The Mican ran the section. He didn’t want to be here, in the dark. On his own. Certainly not with the… Was that..? He approached the corpse, the light playing over what he thought he knew. The bare brightness of his light showed the figure was wearing a technician’s uniform. Yeah, he told himself. He knew this one. He tried the wristcomm. Still down. He raised his voice and felt the sharpness of acid reflux threatening to make an appearance. “I can…” He coughed. “I can confirm a corpse.” He let a tear fall. “It’s, um… It’s Vatrick.”

He heard nothing back. Not for several seconds. “Are you sure,” Torpor asked.

“Yeah, afraid so.” Abernethy lowered his voice. “Still got his cabling kit with him,” he said softly, reaching out to close the eyes. “I’m going to go on,” he finished, raising his voice again over the sizzling of the cutting beam. He got to the bulkhead and opened it. IT department should be the next room on the right. It was and he wondered why no-one was helping him. Then he opened the door and found out why.


The trio were spark out on the floor or sofa. Abernethy moved quickly to check on each of them. All breathing. But why..? Ah, he reasoned as he returned minimal power to the room and saw the damage to the wall. It was open, clear through to the other side of the bulkhead. When they’d voided the fire, it must have extinguished the air in here as well. He put a breather unit on the muzzle of the Celican he didn’t know and found the one from the rooms pack for Harvey as he gently tapped Gilly back into a wakened state. The Raitchian blearily opened her eyes as he knelt over her. “They get the…” She coughed. “Breathers, I get the slap?”


“Would Winsome get jealous if he heard that,” Abernethy asked her, failing to catch himself before he said the dim thing. He fell back as she pushed him out of the way to check on the Jondahl computer expert. She noticed breath on the inside of his mask and relaxed as his eyes opened and locked onto hers in the gloom. He took the breather off and Abernethy moved over to the hurt Celican to give them a moment. He took a scanner from the pack and ran it over her. Deep burns to her arm and a wound on the back of her head. But…


Her eyes opened as he gave her a booster to deal with the pain. Her ears flicked to alert and she used her good hand to take the mask off. “Th...thanks,” she said, before putting the hand to the back of his head and pulling him in for a passionate kiss.

[Amazee Dayzee]

Uh-Oh. That is not good. Hawle is slipping a little bit here. He needs to get back on his A-Game. Normally when he would say that somebody is calling they would call a few seconds later. LOL

[Welsh Halfwit]

29


Hawle walked the decks, helping out where he could, lifting and patching and holding hands to give strength to those who might lose theirs shortly. Raven was in charge of getting the few pieces of the Dart that remained ready for analysis, Stikka was checking the computer files manually, Sarah had them back underway, maintaining velocity three until Katara told her it was safe to go faster. Jaqui was leading the clean up crews, Match was watching for signs the ship was about to fall apart and Dawton was listening for the Avians. So he wandered, looking to keep up morale with jokes he hardly felt.


He looked in on the medical bay, where Gilly and Harvey were watching over Fuze as he treated Sarafina, something he knew was going to bite him when Havakar found out about it. He stepped past them to where Barleycorn was treating a Canine, who was sitting up as she ran a healing beam over his shoulder. “Fractured clavicle,” Night told him, “walking wounded only.”

“No excuse to slack off, then,” Hawle asked, trying hard not to sound tired.

“I’d never…” The Canine winced as the fracture cricked back into place, “do that, sir. Can’t stand my ceiling.”

Hawle appreciated the joke, strained as it was and Night put the bloodied shirt back over the area. “Take it easy the next couple of hours.”

“Managerial, you mean?”

“Is it too late to rule by fear,” Hawle asked as the Canine slipped off the bed and headed out, giving his arm an experimental twist. “What’s the situation, Night?”

“Six badly wounded,” she told him simply. “Three dead.”


“A word,” said someone behind them.

“Might I use your office,” Hawle asked Barleycorn. She responded that it was fine as she wasn’t using it any time soon so Hawle stepped in and closed the door behind Katara. He propped himself against Night’s desk as Katara glowered and flexed her claws. “You going to start,” he asked after a moment.

She growled. “Those weapons were not calibrated or ready for combat,” she stormed. “you’re lucky they didn’t blow out half the ship! Your casual…”

“You think I don’t agree with you, Katara,” Hawle retorted, cutting across her. “I don’t know why they wanted to hurry to get the Professor’s experiment underway but they did! They placed the orders, as you know well. USC Command wanted us to test those weapons and capabilities after the test. Which we were going to do.”

“You should have told command we needed to do them before the test!” Katara swung her arm down to show the power of her feeling. “If you’d…”

“This didn’t come…”

“IF you’d let me finish,” Katara demanded. “If you’d fought, I might not have lost friends today!”

“And,” Hawle replied darkly, keeping his anger in check by an effort of will that was making his ears droop. “if you’d let ME finish, I’d tell you this order did NOT come from Sector Command, Katara. It came from CENTRAL Command. And it bears the signature of the Council President on it. There’s no arguing with an order like that.” He sighed. “You think I feel nothing for them? Why do you think I didn’t start the fight with those weapons? I’d hoped the Avians might have something could deal with it but that dart? It was ignoring them and focussing on us. Their weapons might have got through but we’d be dead. You’ve seen the records of our previous encounters with these things?”

Katara kept the smouldering glower going as she worked out if she’d seen the files or not. “I think so.”

“Then you’ll have noticed how our weapons did pretty much nothing to it. We had to smack it in the face with an asteroid to disable it the first time.”

“Tough customers,” Katara allowed, crossing her arms.

“Agreed. And I doubt that this is the last of them we’re going to face over time.” He pointed to her. “According to the message that would end your career if sector command ever saw it – due to your language – you know of ways to stop this happening again?”

“Yes, but…” She snorted. “We’ll need to run simulations! Practice scenarios! Test firings!” She slapped her hands against the wall, dislodging dust from the ceiling. “Maintenance needs to look at that,” she added, pointing to the ceiling.

“I’ll add it to their list,” Hawle reasoned. “And, when we get to where the Avians are taking us, I’ll see if I can get you that practice time whilst they debate if we can shoot a star.”

“I came in here ready to hit you,” Katara told him. “why aren’t you afraid?”

“You’ve heard them call me the ‘mad Rabbit’, haven’t you,” Hawle replied. “Besides, I trust Groal. And Groal trusts you with his ship. And with me. He doesn't much LIKE you but he trusts you. So I trust you, Katara. Get our ship fixed. Get those weapons tested so they don’t kill our ship. Because we need them and only you can do it.”

“I’ll need to co-opt maintenance to help.”

“I’ll tell Pember to expect your call.” He gave her something of a smile. “AND your command.”

“Darn straight,” she grumbled, letting him lead her out of the room, merely simulating strangling him from behind for the benefit of the people in the main bay.


“Commander Hawle,” said a voice he’d been expecting to hear from, just not so soon, “my daughter has been hurt in this latest foolishness. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Hawle put out a hand to stop Katara attacking the president and definitely causing an incident. “Madame President,” he said evenly, as the Celican in question looked like she wanted to hide under the sheets, “I gave instructions for all civilians and science non combatants to make for the safe zone. From the reports I have, your daughter slipped her escort. When preparing a ship for combat, that is something I cannot control.”

“She…”

“Excuse me, ma’am,” Gilly said, trying not to quail under the intense glare. “Your, um, Daughter? She wanted to… to stand guard with us and… and got hurt saving our lives. Without her we’d have died.”

“And, without the IT department, we might not be able to fix the ships computers,” Hawle put in. “Katara, you think that’s Laurel cluster material?”

Katara pretended to muse. It usually took stopping an explosion or something death defying to get one of the U.S.C.’s senior Civilian honours but she figured this was on the lower echelons of acceptable. “Most definitely.”

Hawle nodded, not looking at the speechless mother but at the speechless younger one in the bed, wearing a regenerator bandage over her scorched arm. “I’ll put in the order,” he said, noting the tail begin to thump under the sheet. “Congratulations, Sarafina,” he announced, holding out the wrong hand for a shake so she didn’t have to use the swathed one, “You’re a hero.”


Stunned, she took the hand and shook.

[Amazee Dayzee]

I like it when Hawle gets serious and tries not to snap at people. He doesn't need to yell, he can just cut you down with the truth.

[Welsh Halfwit]

30


Hawle moved behind his desk to show it off, although he didn’t think it had much interest to the current guest, taking a tour of the ship as they approached the Schimak Homeworld. He’d decided that he was going to call the race by their official name when he was face to face with them at least. He’d noted the singlet style shirt the Captain – or Hrakar – wore that was sleeveless to account for getting it on, considering the long wings that descended down his arms to his elbows and up the other end to his claw-like hands and, possibly, a little further? It looked like his elbows could ‘lock in’ when his arms were extended to enable flight. With the exception of shorts and padded sandals the underside was as undressed as the top half and the Hrakar seemed amused by the fact Hawle was wearing so many clothes, judging by the inclination of the head. “I’d invite you to sit,” Hawle said politely, “but I’m not totally sure you can…”

“Oh, we can,” Hrakar Yakkuk replied, stretching out his feathers leisurely, “for politeness. But, generally we don’t. Our feather’s drag on the floor. This gravity is a little different to ours. As I suspect it is for you?”

“Yes, I had my science Officer adjust things a little to make it more suitable for you whilst still being bearable for us.”

“It is appreciated.” the Hrakar agreed generously. “Mine is a slightly insular people, Captain. We have had experiences of land dwellers such as your peoples, of course, but we do not actively seek them out. Had it not been for you being in one of our holy places – and on board one of our less revered relics – we would not have made contact with you.”

Hawle heard the fizzing of clawtips on the light carpet he kept in here and hoped they wouldn’t get caught or something. “Then we should be grateful for small miracles,” he replied, hoping the two he’d left on the fourteen were doing OK, getting it back to Council space. “And the chance to exchange knowledge. I was wondering what you could tell me about the Dart ships we faced earlier?”

“The Dart?” Yakkuk tilted his head. “Oh, the Patreeve? Yes. We have met them many times. He ambulated over to the desk and pulled a small device from a short pocket Hawle hadn’t spotted before. He placed it on the desk and a holographic picture of the dart appeared above it. “They are extensions of a people called the Patreeve. We know they were a colonial power, interested in gathering minerals and lands and peoples for their worlds. They were used as building blocks. Slave labour and materials. We have not had direct contact with them in decades.”


“Please sit, Professor,” Brunton said, indicating the other chair, “I’m sure we’ll be getting to this avian world soon and you’ll need to be rested for the meeting.”

“Hmm,” the professor replied dismissively as Goole tried to make himself look invisible, tending to glass smashed in the battle. “Yes, I suppose agitated is a bad way to make a first contact with…” He looked at Goole. “Are you going to be much longer with that, boy?”

“Depends,” Goole replied, stretching his Feline body to get at a bit that had gone under a console, “on if I find any more…” He flicked the piece out with the brush and corralled it into the dustpan. “...bits,” he finished.

“Why is there so much glass in here anyhow,” Caltaya asked.

“Beakers,” Goole replied, “not to mention phials and… coffee cups.” He looked sadly at the broken handle of the mug his mother had bought him to celebrate him getting this posting and took the pieces over to the disintegration slot. He fed it in before Zowaix and Donnika, who was annoying Zowaix simply by being there, came back in with Donnika talking about the mechanical brilliance of the torpedo.

“It’s designed to be frictionless to a degree I’ve rarely seen before,” he gushed, “taking into account the principles and ideas of Gastreme, Pakla and Henderson, if I have any clue on it.”

“The vehicle is nothing if the materials inside don’t work,” Zowaix countered testily. “A mechanical irrelevance if the chemistry isn’t right. Which, I admit, it is. I’ll compliment the Profess… Ah, there you are. My compliments on the fusion generator and the nutrient mix. How long did it take you to come up with the correct formulas?”

Caltaya thought on an answer for a moment. “Twenty years,” he decided. “It took almost as long for my friends in the engineering sciences to work out the best conveyancing method.” He nodded to Donnika. “Henderson was one of them, yes and I used Pakla’s notes to get started but I wouldn’t touch Gastreme with a thirty foot blasting rod. Koblick. The great rival. If science is discovery,” he reminded Zowaix, “then engineering must be a science. Even if Engineers frown at the idea.”

“Oh, I don’t frown at the idea,” Donnika replied, turning himself around. “I just don’t like many scientists. Goole,” he finished, “up for a beer at the Starwheel?”

Goole, not used to such an offer, checked his timer. He put the dustpan and brush down. “Yeah, sure” he said, trotting into line with the chair. “It’ll need to be non alcoholic, though. It’s only lunch.”


“Your weapons in the battle were quite formidable,” Yakkuk mentioned as Hawle walked him back towards the shuttle bay, where the Schimakan shuttle was currently being looked over by Match and the Chief of the deck, under the watchful eye of the shuttle pilot. “We have never had that much efficiency against them.”

Hawle indicated the damage. “Half of this damage was caused by those weapons. We were supposed to run firing tests to sort out how to fire them safely after the main experiment to reignite the sun. Although the companies involved based them on the last encounters we were, in effect, providing the first field test. Your weapons seemed more effective than our normal weapons. If you’d like, I’ll make the schematics of the new weapons available to you. Our Copyright laws don’t apply here, after all.”

“A generous gesture. It will have no impact on my people’s decision regarding the experiment, Commander. I, after all, am not a government official any more than you are. That is why I requested NOT to meet the former President or your Ambassador on this trip. Just one military Commander to another.” He stopped. “And, as one military commander to another, I know that gifts do not come without price. What is the price?”

“I want to know about these Patreeve,” Hawle announced. “Two hundred years ago, they stole the crew of that ship. They may have descendants. And, if they have? I want them back.”

[Amazee Dayzee]

Its been 200 years Hawle I am pretty sure you wouldn't want the crew back from the Patreeve. They are probably skeletons and dust by now. Unless he is saying he wants the remains back. That would make more sense.

Also I sent you a PM. Read and respond.

[Welsh Halfwit]

31


Hawle stepped off the shuttle, behind Cataya, Brunton, Havakar and Una. Like the rest of them, he’d added a belt to his outfit for security purposes. An anti-gravity belt that was helping them adjust to the lower gravity of the city in the clouds. He couldn’t see them but he could hear the thrumming on the edge of his audible range that hinted at engines holding the place aloft and his footsteps were measured as he walked, something Una took him up on as they headed towards the wide, flat, buildings opposite. “Not sure of your gravity,” she asked.

“I’m not totally fond of standing on a hovering city,” he confided.

“You hover every day,” Una reminded him.

“If the engines on the Loper fail, we just hang there, Una. If these fail..? Three thousand feet.”

“Stop talking about imminent death,” Hvakar advised them as one of the locals swooped down towards them and zoomed overhead. “ Hrakar Yakkuk,” she said, getting their guide’s attention, “I was wondering how your people actually took off into flight?”

He inclined his head and closed his eyes for a moment. “We have a low centre of gravity and a bone structure that is comparatively hollow compared to yourself so we are able to jump high enough if needed. But, mostly, we find something high to jump off from.” He indicated a ‘public transport’ tower that rose some five storeys from the top of the government building. “Please,” he added, glancing up at a group that was circling above them, “ignore the press.”

“I thought I felt Vultures,” Hawle muttered to Una.

“Shush, sir,” she replied.


There were few chairs in here, a fact which didn’t cause Hawle any surprise and he let the ladies take the seats that were in the waiting room as Caltaya and Brunton laid out the experiment that had been planned for a group of Schimakan scientists. Hawle fancied it was mostly Caltaya doing the talking and Brunton calming the old hunter down when he was about to explode too far. Apparently the flock leader – or whatever Yakkuk had called him – was in there with his scientific advisor. Most of them had variations on the same feather colours but in different arrangements and they’d kept a close seal on the group to stop them looking at too much technology on their way to this windowless box. “How many times,” Hawle wondered, “has my first visit to a planet involved a windowless box?”

“Not enough times to stop you gaining rank,” Havakar replied, in what Hawle assumed was an attempt at humour. “Isolationists don’t appreciate company. President Kelan once kept me waiting three hours for a meeting, Commander.” She swapped crossed legs from left to right. “It’s a power play move. Making sure we know who’s boss.”


As she said it, the door opened and a younger looking Avian with gold and black feathers looked in and consulted a note they held and called out Aldair’s name. “This way, please.”

After consulting with Una and Havakar about their safety, Hawle trotted to follow his escort. “I like your colours,” he said, by way of conversation.

“Thank you but..?” The guide stopped, clearly confused by something until realisation dawned and they cackled a laugh, the soft throat feathers shaking. “Of course! You’ve not seen a Kestalan Female, have you? Well, there aren’t many of us about in this city I suppose. And we’d have the same trouble with… oh.” The feathers on the back of her head bristled. “Uh, the others we left in the room..?”

“Both Female,” Hawle advised. “And I’m male, before you ask.”

“Wasn’t going to,” she preened. “You smell like a male.”

“Is that good,” Hawle asked pensively, “or bad?”

She shifted away, twisting her left foot claws to face forward again. “I can’t tell,” she admitted. “But I don’t have to,” she finished, coming to a door and indicating the green and… was that red(?) panels on her shoulders. “I’m a military adjunct.” She opened the door and Hawle entered.

“Not coming with,” he asked, looking towards his guide.

“No,” she breathed, closing the door.


The smell of rank, Hawle assumed, was the same throughout the galaxy. It was powerful and pervasive and he didn’t need to turn around to know there were at least three of them behind him. Probably burly types or with eyes that shot lasers. He figured he’d better turn around. Yup, he thought, his fight or flight reflex trying to kick in, four Hawks. “Sit down,” one of them said, bristling towards the sole chair in the room. There wasn’t much hint of choice in the statement.

“Might as well,” Hawle said agreeably, keying in to his usual fight or flight reaction of trying to confuse the opposition. He swung his leg over the chair in the way he’d seen someone do in those vids Sarah often showed him and immediately wished he hadn’t as he felt something uncomfortable stretch. “I take it I’m talking with the equivalent of Generals,” he added as he finished the manoeuvre.

“We’ll be asking the questions,” one of them said from the dimly lit rear of the room. From the way his compatriots looked at him, Hawle assumed they had clichés on this world. “Tell us about the device,” the figure snapped. “Is it a weapon?”

Hawle took a breath and composed himself. “Absolutely,” he told them. “Depending on who’s using it and why, it’s a weapon of considerable destructive power,” he said contritely. “That’s why, now it’s on my ship, I’m not letting anyone else get their hands on it.” He looked the closest warhawk in the face. “Our purpose is scientific,” he told the face. “Our intent is to use this to build. To help. To encourage life. I have no intent of handing it over to those who would threaten or destroy with it. Nor does the Professor.”

“We have only your word for that.”

“You also have the word of Hrakar Yakkuk. We could have engaged his ship in battle and carried out the experiment as scheduled.”

“You would destroy one of our ships?”

“No. I would not. Neither would any Unified Security Council Officer worthy of the name.” Hawle caught the slight look from one of the Officers to another as he said the name of the Council. “We would defend ourselves as much as needed if attacked. Which Yakkuk didn’t do.”

“We saw the records of what you did to the dart. You should know we are contemplating the fact that your ship represents a threat.”

“Wise. We’d do the same.”

“If we conclude it does, we may open fire.”

“Wise,” Hawle repeated, deadpan, “We’d do the same.”

The one who’d been silent until now cackled a laugh like the adjunct had. “It seems our efforts to intimidate have not met with success. We have things to talk over, Commander. Leave.”

The five minute interview, it seemed, was over.

[Amazee Dayzee]

Funny to see that Hawle hasn't gonna over the hawk trying to carry him off and then pecking his face. Though these hawks probably COULD carry him off.

[Welsh Halfwit]

32

Two hours passed before it was Colleen and Havakar’s turn to be taken to a meeting and the Older Celican stayed ahead of the Collian as they walked through the passages, noting the height of the passages as they went. A nod towards their avian nature perhaps. There were wide opening doors set high in the walls, opposite what looked like weapons that were trained on them. The doors had card reader panels so, at a rough guess, the doors were restricted access only. It was something Havakar noted mentally. Overt defences indicated a fear of enemies. Her cunning mind wondered if that was something connected to the few females they’d seen here. The assumption that she didn’t know people had served her well in the past, allowing her to gain advantage where she could read body language. If her limited experience with this species was any judge, this escort was nervous. He had a flightiness to his walking gait, forever flicking glances to check behind himself and off to the side. Out towards the windows beneath those doors. From the Collian’s body language she’d seen it too. The Schimakans around them were all on edge and she doubted it was all to do with their presence. Even the press were staying away from the windows. “Did they get any good pictures of us on the way in,” she asked the Schimakan escorting them, a young male whose head turned towards them as he kept walking onward.

“I am afraid I can’t comment on that, ma’am,” he told her.

“Does that mean you’ve not seen the news or it hasn’t reached them yet,” Colleen asked politely.

“First one definite, ma’am,” he replied, turning a corner without looking at it. “Second one unlikely. News flies. Oh, but your shuttle is guarded. To prevent unauthorised access from, uh, tech company spies.”

“Only authorised government spies to be allowed in ny the pilot, eh,” Colleen remarked.

“It is only fair, Una,” Havakar replied, pre-empting the local. “After all, they did allow us the same privilege.”

“Fair IS fair,” the local said, stopping by three guard birds and an automated scanner. “Larrak Harkwakak escorting two alien diplomats,” he told the guards and the system. “They have no weapons.”

Havakar regarded the guard who looked at her and advised him not to even think about searching her. “We consent to scan searches only. Unless you want to get a female agent here to do the searches?” They didn’t and the guard ran a scanner over the pair of them. They seemed quite interested in their arms but, eventually, cleared them to enter an office.


Large, curved, bowls with spout notches lay on a light, high, table with a carafe of water next to them. The clean, shining, floor had a handful of chairs on it and there was a large not-quite-glass window showing a vision of open spaces and skies that didn’t match what Havakar knew was outside that window. She watched as Colleen leaned over the carafe and sniffed. “Can’t smell anything,” she advised before checking the bowls.

“Means nothing,” Havakar said, noticing the board halfway up the wall and the library close to the roof. “You notice there’s only the two bowls? Never eat or drink anything your host doesn’t.”

“You sound a little paranoid,” said a voice from somewhere above them. Both of them looked up as a dorr they hadn’t quite seen allowed a tall Schimakan into the room.


His claws caught the edge of the ledge he was on and, using his forward motion, propelled him into the gap, his arms spreading and locking into place as he thrust himself forward and took off, just under the ceiling. He angled himself into a turn, his legs out straight behind him, and circled the office, getting lower until he lowered his legs back to the upright for landing and placed himself gracefully next to the pair on the floor, allowing his arms to bend again in the last few feet. “Good… afternoon,” he said, awkwardly offering a hand for Havakar to shake. “I am Hrona Wcjal. Uh, Hrona is… President?”

“Gratified to meet you,” she allowed.

“And I keep my cup in my desk,” he said, moving around to the other side of the table to take the object from his drawer. They let him pour into the gentle bowls and watched as he raised the cup to his face to allow water to dribble into his mouth from the spout notch. Colleen was the first of the duo to drink, taking a sip in the same way the Hrona had.


They discussed the differences in politics and, indeed, the similarities in the same took up most of the talk, although the Hrona was also interested in talking with Colleen as they had had some travellers pass through their space a few years back after having been held prisoner by a race called ‘Varkonians’ until some other aliens had broken them free. It fascinated him to be able to talk to one of the heroes of those stories and an equal at the same time. Eventually, of course, it came to an interest. “The Hrakar,” Colleen said politely, “told us that your ship found us because we were in a holy site, Hrona Wejal?”

He corrected her on the pronuncition of his name and helped her until she didn’t pronounce it like a month old youngling before he answered. “Yes. Koraminka – the name of that world – is a venerated place for us. My species is one that has been present for thousands of years. Many thousands, as you might put it. We explored every inch of our home and it’s skies. We built art and understood buildings and culture. Then our space watchers discovered the star that gave us heat and life was dying. Its power weakening. Its generosity falling away. Whole new sciences developed against one another. The side who wanted to make the sun strong again and the sciences to explore the night beyond our day. To find a new horizon. But we never forgot where we came from, even after these new millennia. We go back to venerate the past. Of course,” he said, extending an arm to allow his wing to flow and the most feathers to catch the sun through the window, “recently we found another artifact there, yes? One of yours?”

“We do not know how it got there,” Havakar put in before Colleen could start in. “Other than it fell through a hole in space. Then it was attacked and all the living taken.”

“Yes, I know there were none alive when we scanned it on first sight. It had the claws of conflict in it’s skin. It had no place that could take a shuttle so we did not go aboard. You have a way of displacing matter?” He looked curious. “So no travel is needed?”

“A teleport device, yes,” Havakar replied. “Often used for this sort of thing. It transmutes the molecules of an object into energy and sends that energy to a point where it shifts back into matter. The ships have systems that can receive patterns through more interference and…” She looked at him, his talons gently gripping what some would call his chin. “And I’m talking too much.”

“Not at all,” he replied. “I wonder if I could get the religious types to accept that? It would certainly mean needing less… No, no. They’d think of something against it. But it IS fascinating. Your people seem to be driven by science. But you have not forgotten the ways of violence?”

“We try to use violence only when we are forced to,” Colleen told him. “And only as much as we need.”

“Then why is your Commander trying to get information on the Portreeve, hmm,” he asked curiously.

[Amazee Dayzee]

Still fishing for information that will help their narrative instead of listening to Hawle I see. Hawle already told them why. So what could THEY be hiding.

[Welsh Halfwit]

Meanwhile...

33.


“I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about me,” the Alsan said as his door opened to reveal Jaqui and a guard outside his studio apartment, as he was calling it. She stepped in as he sat on the sofabed that slid out from the wall when he wanted to sleep and back up the wall when he wanted to sit. He indicated the vidcom. “This things been telling me nothing,” he continued, “but I got the indication I was in danger?”

“Only because everyone else was,” Jaqui retorted, putting a sandwich from Cedar on the table for him as she started checking the room for hidden things and weapons. “We got involved in a fire fight with something we’ve met before out here. They’re very… acquisitive. And we were in…” She stopped whist she checked around the table to make sure it was still affixed to the floor. “...no mood to be acquired.”

“I doubt they could afford you,” he told her humorously.

“Leaving aside the implication you think I can be bought in any fashion,” Jaqui remarked sternly, “I thank you for the compliment.”

“Any news on when I get considered for reclaim?”

“When we get back to Council space, Marius.” She grinned at the look of shock on his face. “Oh, yes.” she told him. “We got the report from central before we got… diverted from our path.” She sat herself on one end of the sofabed and pointed for him to sit at the other. He complied. “Marius Raval. Twenty-seven years and in colony jail for half the last decade. Low level stuff mostly. Affray. Breaking a police officer’s jaw. Breaking and entering…”

“I was always good with locks,” he boasted, indicating picking locks with his finger claws.

“Not so I heard,” Jaqui replied. “You got caught, didn’t you?”

His ears flicked back as his head did similarly. “Only the once,” he protested. “Once was enough.”

“Not for the clan, I take it.”

“Once you’re in the clan, you’re in the clan. Who’s going to hire someone with a record like that?”

“Is the contrition real or put on,” Jaqui asked, standing up. She stepped over to the vid. “Don’t answer. It’ll either be a lie or the truth. And it’s not really germane at the moment.” She tapped a few controls on the vidscreen to show the clouded planet they were orbiting. “The planet Schimak,” she told him. “Thought you might like to see it.” She flicked a button to change the view to one of the natives.

Marius’s eyes bugged and his hands gripped the edge of the sofa as he leaned forward. Avians! He’d heard legends, living on the outermost colony. There had even been rumours of the council covering up a crashed ship but he’d never given it much thought but… “I don’t… I don’t… Avians?”

“Seems so,” Jaqui smirked. “If you want to meet more of them, you need to be honest about things when it comes to the evaluation. They might have a telepath but they’re ALL trained in spotting liars and chancers.”

“You seem more agreeable today,” Marius told her.

“You’re not my big problem today. Eat your sandwich.” He complied as she left. She locked the door behind her.


Januvitski aided Edelmar Polva in reattaching the last piece of wall and cabling to fix Gilly and Harvey’s wall. She cast a glance at the scorch marks around the panel that had been lit up and winced. She knew all about the dermal regeneration treatments the young vixen was going to be going through and she resolved to check in on her later. “You got much more to do tonight, Ed,” she asked her colleague as he put his interlock driver away in his toolkit.

“Just the dusting,” he replied cheekily. “Then I can fall over and sleep. At least until Sarah gets back.” He lifted Harvey’s spare bed back up, above the door,

“She wakes you up?”

“She snores. It’s quite a noise. It’s a good job I love her.”

“Yeah. I get that way sometimes. How long until the arrival?”

“Oh,” he said, cringing as Jan prepared to put the power back on, “about four months, Night reckons. Humans have long ‘brewing periods’.”

“Ed,” Jan replied, putting hands on her hips as full light flooded the room, “you think I didn’t know that?” She flicked her hips towards him and he laughed.

“Yeah, sorry,” the Russellian waved. “Dunno how you lot cope. Nine months?” He shivered.

“Don’t ask me,” Jan shrugged, closing up the panel and checking the disintegration system was up and running for the cable clippings. It fizzed and they dissolved and nothing exploded so it was good to go. The pair moved out and on towards their control centre as Januvitski called in the completed repair.


Dawton, for his part, was maintaining contact with the ground control, at least making sure they knew the ship was still there and still communicating. Once every half hour, Commander Raven had ordered. Not too often, at least. She reckoned it would help to allay fears but David had the thought that it was irritating the heck out of them, considering how sharply he’d responded with ‘I hear you’ last time. He flicked the switch. “Loper to Schimak Control…”

<“Let me guess,”> the voice rasped, <“checking in?”>

“You have it. Sorry,” he added quietly, “my Commander insists. Says it may help keep things calm.”

<“Hrm,”> the voice told him, <“I get the ordered part. I’ll try and be less irritable.”>

“Thanks, control.” Dawton closed the line and realised Sarina Raven was standing right behind him.

She put her large hands on his shoulders and he felt her claws flex just enough... “David,” she intoned, “you’re lucky I’m not up for promotion anytime soon. I’d need to… make a minor fuss.”

“Of course, sir,” he replied, almost too quickly. “My apologies.”

“Don’t apologise,” she told him, removing her hands with a pat, “just tell me when the hails are irritating people.

“Will do.” He frowned. “We’re getting an incoming signal.”

“Put it through.”


Hawles face appeared on screen. <“Bakkaberry Pie, Sarina,”> he said, using the code they’d arranged to prove it was him on this occasion. Next time it would be Caraway Seed. <“Our hosts are sending up information as regards the Patreeve Dartships. Get it through to the isolated computer if it’s back online? It is? Good. When they’ve decided it’s safe and you’ve seen the maps, have Sarah plot a course. Via star 186,425 on our charts. I’m told we can use that one.”> He nodded as she asked when he’d be back. <“Won’t be long, Raven. Tara.”> He cut the link as he finger waved.

[Amazee Dayzee]

Glad that you got back to this. I assume we will be seeing more of Hawle in the next chapter?

[Welsh Halfwit]

Who said it'd be easy?

34


“So,” Hawle asked carefully as the tri sat around a table and looked at each other, their eyes just over the top of heightened table used, as it was, for standing Avians, “what have we learned about our hosts?”

“Their leader is very agreeable,” Havakar said first, before Colleen could talk. “He’s afraid of making mistakes and he knows of you and the antics over Varkonia.”

Antics, Hawle thought, with a little humour. It was a step up from ‘fooling around’ or ‘misadventures’ as many commanding officers often referred to plans made up on the fly… and the Officers who came up with them on a regular basis.

“But there’s a lot of tension around here,” Colleen chipped in, earning a nod from the retired President. “They’re set up for defence here, with integrated platforms.”

Hawle murmured in assent. “This isn’t a military compound,” he agreed, “but things are definitely afoot. And it seems there’s segregation here too.”

Havakar got up and reached across the table for the water dish, She poured some into her own sipping dish and was about to take some on when Hawle stopped her. He removed a tablet from his bandolier and dropped it into the dish. It fizzed slightly and cleared with a slight hiss. “What was that,” she asked as he put another into the main bowl. It did the same as the other tablet had done before he poured his own. “What was that,” Havakar repeated, one ear twisted back and her voice tightened slightly by concern.

“Water purifier,” Hawle told her as he headed back to his seat, “It found something it didn’t like in the water. Nothing too serious or it would have fizzed like within the automobile. It’s probably safe in decent amounts.” He sipped his own and decided not to play act a death scene as Havakar looked on him as if he was mad. “See,” he said, “not dead.”

“With YOUR way of living,” Havakar groused with amusement, “I am beginning to question how.”

“Ahem,” Colleen asked, clapping her hands together and holding them out like a bowl.

“Oh, it’s safe now, Colleen,” Hawle advised. “The tablet’s seen to that.”

“And I suppose they wouldn’t have wanted to poison their President,” Colleen guessed.

This brought a sharp look from Havakar. “Never assume that,” she instructed. “Most of us have food tasters.” She looked to Hawle again. “Back to what we were discussing. Segregation?”

Hawle put the bowl back on the table at roughly his eyeline as he sat. “We’ve seen hundreds of Males,” he reminded them. “How many females?”

“Two, I suppose,” Colleen sipped the water. “But that doesn’t mean segregation. It may just indicate labour is more defined here.”

“Yes,” Havakar agreed, surprised to feel she felt more along the Lappineans line than the Canines. “Into what we do and what they do.”

“This is why the Council tends to observe in most first contact cases,” Hawle complained. “It can take a decade of observations of culture to understand a culture. And we just end up doing it on the fly and trying to assess them after three hours.”

“Why do you think they gave you the information against the Patreeve so easily,” Havakar asked. “They made that too…”


The door opened and the Black and Gold female from earlier came into the room and the door shut behind her, just allowing them to see the guard outside before it was closed out. She stepped towards Hawle and tilted her head towards him. “I understand you were looking to get something from your shuttle, sir? Something that, uh, needed you all for, uh, security lock?”

Hawle looked somewhat confused, as though he had no idea what she was talking about. This was easy due to the fact he had no idea what she was talking about. “I…”

“...Was just about to remind us about getting the Ravikular Compensator to adjust the gravity controls,” Colleen interrupted quickly. “You must have mentioned it to, uh…”

“Salara,” the Schimakan replied, glancing towards the door. “And, yes, it was mentioned that you may need to go to the shuttle…”

“...To pick up the Compensator, yes,” Hawle agreed, catching on to the implication that Salara wanted them to go to the shuttle. “I take it you’re our escort?”

“I am,” she replied, “and I tend to walk quickly. So you’ll need to keep pace.” She strode towards the door, her foot claws crckling on the floor as it opened. “Escorting the guests to their vessel,” she told the guard before using her rank to poke him in the chest. “You make SURE no-one gets into this room, clear?”

The Green and blue monolith agreed with a nod. Hawle found himself relieved they didn’t salute as they’d probably knock out the person they were standing next to. Salara took them quickly through the hallways, using the fact she reported directly to certain senior officers as reason enough not to stop them as they went. Hawle wasn’t having trouble keeping up with her and neither was the old Hunter but Colleen was lagging a few steps behind as they got to the main doors and began to note the fact there seemed to be a few more troops than they’d registered before and Salara requested a couple of the smaller ones that were ‘just passing’ to escort them as another opened the door for them.


The press were still in the skies and Hawle looked up and smiled at them as they went, almost walking into Havakar. “Careful, Commander,” she told him. “You don’t want to look undignified.” She put a hand out to grab his lapel as he almost tripped over his own feet. “Current evidence notwithstanding.”

“Thanks,” Hawle replied, making sure he had good footing as one of the ‘generals’ landed beside them.

“Salara,” he snapped. “Where are you taking these people?” Hawle noted two more males landing to either side. Flanking them? He noted the frisson of nerves in their escort’s feathers as she turned towards her superior.

“They needed a, uh…”

“ Ravikular Compensator,” Havakar put in.

“It’s in the shuttle,” Colleen contributed.

“And they need it to adjust their gravity devices,” Salakar finished.

The General chuckled. “You’re so sweet and naive,” he said. “It’s a surprise you were chosen for the program. You were told they weren’t to leave the aviary without…” He paused as the alarms started sounding. His vision snapped to the skies as a flock of black and gold approached, with speckled sections of Green and Blue amongst their throng. “Revolutionaries! To arms!”

[Amazee Dayzee]

I can't believe Hawle almost trip in front of a ton of people who were watching him as that wouldn't have been good. Lets hope he doesn't trip and face plant in a mud puddle anytime soon.

[Welsh Halfwit]

35


As the General – or whatever he was – organised the resistance to the oncoming flight, Hawle grabbed at Salara’s arm and began pulling her with him as they headed for the shuttle. She shook his hand off. “I have to help…”

“You don’t have a weapon,” Hawle snapped at her as the firing began, dampening the volume he was shouting at as a nearby Schimakan crumpled to the floor as he was struck in the head by a bolt from one of the assailants as three of the females folded their wings and plummeted to the surface to never move again. He kept his face hard. “The middle of a battle is no place to be if you’re unarmed! Come on!” Hawle thought he’d seen this before as others crashed down and many landed, firing as the interior weapons opened up, through the windows. He wasn’t quite sure where as he ducked the fire with his Avian ‘escort but he felt it just needed a royal band providing the soundtrack as he reached the shuttle, under guard from the pilot as he shot to keep people away. They boarded and the pilot raised the shields as Havakar rose to accept the newcomer by the throat.

“What have you involved us in,” she growled as Hawle hunched himself over the controls.

“Would you rather she’d kept us in the place they’re assaulting, Madame President? Plus,” he added as the small ship rocked, “she’s the only one not trying to kill us.”

“Please, Hannakar,” Colleen said, putting a hand on the Celican’s shoulder, “release her.”

Hannakar grumbled. “Very well.” She released her grip and the local stopped standing on claw tips and rubbed her throat. “But you better have a damned good explanation for this!”

“Oh, she probably does,” Hawle remarked, adjusting the sensors quickly. “Probably to do with in-equal opportunities, rebellion and what I’m about to do.”

“What…” Salara coughed. “What ARE you about to do?”

“This. Chadwick, lower the shields a few seconds.” The pilot nodded and complied and Hawle engaged the systems. Salara’s beak dropped as the figure of Caltaya folded into view, became more physical in her view and finally came back into existence as Hawle muttered his thanks for the type 10 shuttle and the pilot put the shields back up.

“What,” Caltaya said, almost falling over as he leaned over a console that wasn’t there. “Where am I? They were letting me look over some of their advancements and… Why is the shuttle shaking?”

“Because there’s an armed insurrection going on, Professor,” Hawle told him. “Which Salara here is going to tell us about.”

The Professor sat down and strapped in. “Shouldn’t we take off,” he asked.

“Can’t take off without lowering the shields for take off,” the pilot advised. We got hit five times getting you here.”

“So,” Havakar declared, keeping an even, murderous, gaze on the Avian. “we have time. Talk.”


Salara’s feathers shimmered and shifted as she sighed. “It’s been building a while. Those wanting change. Those wanting more change and those bitterly resisted to it. Why do you think a moderate Hrona, who was helping us change things slowly, was under the watch of.. uh…”

“Hawks,” Hawle suggested. Una face palmed. “Predatory types who never change,” he added in explanation.

“A good description. He was still able to make small changes but not fast enough for many in the lower clouds. And then you arrived and the unlawful forces of change knew they couldn’t wait any longer to attack.”

“What did we have to do with it,” Havakar asked as Hawle pondered it wouldn’t be right to substitute ‘illegal’ for ‘unlawful’ in this society.

Salara didn’t answer in words. She simply pointed in Caltaya’s general direction.

“Me,” he asked.

“No,” Hawle said, “she’s pointing at the teleporter.” He sighed as the ship rocked again. “Schimakans can’t ex…”

“Who,” Salara queried, tilting her head around to watch Hawle. “Oh, you thought..? No,” she laughed, “we’re Kestalans. Remember we came to this planet?”

“Kestalans can’t sneak up on each other. Defenders can fly, attackers can fly. See each other from miles away. Enter us, with our deep strike technology…”

“...which you were letting the, uh, ‘Hawks’ examine and have access to. “

“The rebellion wouldn’t have a chance. Ten thousand years and you still haven’t sorted this sort of thing out?”

“Oh, we sorted it,” Salara bristled. “For centuries, millennia even, we’ve done equal things but then equal became specialized. Specialized became exclusive. Without knowing it the females are doing certain jobs and the males are doing other jobs. Then only males can do particular jobs because the right/wrong person is in power and gets the legislation through…”

“Song of the ages, dear,” Caltaya said softly. “Sides fight so hard for an even share. Then the next generation learns what they did. The generation after that forgets the fight but just remembers the message and the whole thing starts again.”

“The wheel turns,” Havakar agreed.


Outside, the firing began to quiet down. “I’m not sure your side is winning,” Hawle advised, “despite I can see the shooting’s going on into the main building. I’d suggest we head out now, Chadwick.”

The Mican pilot checked. It did seem that most of the shooting – and explosions, he noted, as one of the mounted weapons exploded – were going on behind the field of corpses and feathers now. He started the launch procedures and Una grabbed Salara as she tried for the door. “See sense,” the Collian urged. “If your side wins, it’ll be safe to return. If they lose? They’ll need all the leaders they can get to build again.”

“We’ll be coming back here,” Hawle told her. “After we’ve done what we’re out here for. We’ll be able to drop you off anywhere on the planet, Salara. And they won’t even know.”

Salara had to admit the groundwalkers had a point. But she didn’t like it much.

[Amazee Dayzee]

I guess the one good point about having a field of dead bodies is that it prevents everybody else from getting hit and killed. Still gonna be a big mess to clean up though.

[Welsh Halfwit]

36

“Aldair,” Colleen said as the shuttle strove to gain altitude away from the sky city as fighting continued, “why is it that, when you take me to new planets, we get shot at?”

Aldair didn’t turn to look at her but kept watch over the sensor readouts as he raised two fingers to Colleen, ‘remembering’ to turn them to the inoffensive version at the last minute. “We’ve been to two new planets, Colleen,” he remarked. “That’s not a fair sample. Besides they aren’t firing at us this time.” He paused a second. “Although that might change soon. I think both sides have called up back up?

“There are… a lot of flocks who were just waiting on the attack,” Salara confirmed.

“And the Generals have their gunships,” Havakar offered, reminding them of the obvious. At least one ship was still in orbit, almost directly in the path they were headed.

“Good point.” Hawle remarked, putting himself on the comm as the pilot adjusted course sharply, almost sending Salara into a bulkhead “I know you hate chairs, Salara,” Hawle added, “but you’re not used to our gravity so, please, sit and strap.” Not requiring her beak to be smashed into a wall twice, she complied.


<“You’re coming back, Commander,”> Sarina commented simply. Hawle rolled his eyes.

“We’re coming back indeed. Quite quickly, as it transpires. We’re under fire.”

<“I’ll launch Maze and co.”>

“Only to defend us,” Hawle said, holding on as the pilot went into a dive to avoid the incoming fighters. “We didn’t do anything, before you ask, Sarina.”

<“I believe you, sir,”> Sarina replied. <“Many wouldn’t.”> She cut the line off as he asked Chadwick the reason for the alteration.

“Incoming fighters from orbit, sir,” the Mican advised. “Didn’t want to wait until they were in weapons range to see if they were friendly, sir.”

“Good plan.”


Two of the incoming fighters were taking an interest in the shuttle, Hawle noticed. He tried calling them to make them aware that they weren’t involved in the fight, they were from the alien vessel and just wanted to get back to their ship. Hawle didn’t think they were listening. Largely because of how they were shooting at them. “Get us up as fast as you can,” Hawle advised redundantly. “Maze is coming down to cover us.”


Maze Hardy quite enjoyed the thrill of engaging new ships in combat as it kept her thinking fresh. New challenges and new predicaments lightened her day as the Loper moved to take more of an overwatch position as she and three support fighters headed for the planetary atmosphere, under the strict instruction that they were only to engage if they or the shuttle came under fire. Maze led the way, cutting faster through the outer atmosphere with her multi-pressure ship as the others came in on a lighter angle. She could see the shuttle dancing below her as one of the fighters tried to get a bead. She gave herself a tight grin. Chadwick wasn’t making it easy for them. She was about to make it muffins and cookies awkward. For fair play and diplomacy, she decided to give them a warning and flicked her ship comm to ‘general, all frequency.’ “Go kill your own people,” she stated, “leave our Commander alone.” She cut the line and stitched a belt of fire between the shuttle and the fighter. She licked her teeth as it banked towards her, ready to fend her off. She wondered if they’d shoot, being as she’d clearly been out to miss them, but worked to keep their attention on her as the shuttle pulled up towards the atmospheric envelope and the fighters incoming there. One of the opponents was clearly trying to draw her off to fight and, in a short period of time, he was going to succeed. Her shield power was down twenty something percent as she exceeded the gravitational forces to drop her ship back down below the enemy with full reverse thrust that threatened to push her skull through her face as the other ship scrammed past her, shield interacting shied as they raced past. Then she went for full forward thrust in chase, feeling her head pushed halfway into the cushioned headrest with a force that indicated she’d need to be checked by Barleycorn when she got back. She fired and energy struck from her weapon mounts and slashed at the targets’ shielding as he banked to turn back towards her. She jinked sideways and engaged in a tight loop to get back on his tail. Heh, she thought, I thought a funny.


The shuttle pushed past the incoming fighters as the fighting proceeded and made straight for space, lessening the pressures on the occupants inside. “That,” Salara mentioned, “was most unpleasant.”

“Understatement,” the Professor put in. “Why would they fire on us?”

“Parking ticket,” Hawle grumbled. “Or they just didn’t want to lose the tech in this shuttle. Or, possibly, the people. You’re someone important now, Professor.”

“I always was.”

“Carrot top means on a galactic scale,” Havakar groused, making Hawle mouth ‘Carrot top’ to Chadwick. The Mican shrugged and got back to saving their skins, levelling off to go through the final layers of atmosphere. “You have a lot of power for one person in that head of yours.”

“Power can be beautiful. You’d know about that,” Caltaya said, part bitterly and part playfully.

“Careful, Professor,” she retorted, “I buried my two husbands.”

“She killed the first herself,” Hawle advised. “Legally, of course. He was trying to kill her at the time.”

“I don’t really need reminding, Commander.” She glared at the back of his head. “Although I do acknowledge you’ve done your research. He was working for a rival from even before I met him. When discovered, he attacked. End of story. The second one took a bullet meant for me.”

“I am sorry,” the Professor said gallantly.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate it. Hawle,” she added, “Can that Rodent cook of yours do Hestaya?”

“Wouldn’t say I’ve tried it but, as all the ingredients are dead, he can make it, yes.” Hawle felt his spirits lift. The Loper was ahead of them as Hardy and her flight came alongside as escort.

“Nineteen hundred,” Havakar told the Professor. “My… rooms. You bring your bodyguard and I’ll bring mine.”


“When did my ship become a dating palace for aged Celicans,” Hawle asked Colleen, as they headed towards the bridge.

[Amazee Dayzee]

This just strengthens my position that anytime Hawle is involved with something, it becomes infinitely more interesting. Surprised his fiancee isn't around him much more because of this I have to say.

[Welsh Halfwit]

37


Aldair stepped back onto his bridge and adjusted his bandolier as he often did when he came in – if it needed it or not – and moved around to his command chair, displacing Raven into her first officer’s seat. “Dawton,” he said, turning to face the Human and wishing he had a swivel seat like the 14, “hail our friends. Tell them we’ll be back in a week and will chat to them again then. If things are more stable.” He thought about spinning around, his feet up in the air. It probably wouldn’t be dignified, he supposed. Especially when the chair swivelled off the mount and deposited him on his back. “Any reply, David?”

“Not yet, sir. They appear to be ignoring us.”

“I HATE being ignored,” Hawle huffed. “Right. Polva, start us up. Ahead, quarter speed. Match, put the shields up. We won’t need weapons.” He gestured with his hand towards the weapons officer on duty, a Mican called Tilloch. “I know, Kirkin, I know. Until we DO need ‘em. Keep them ready to power up, ok?”

“Aye, sir,” the greyfur replied in a Scottish brogue that always took Hawle by surprise somehow. “Ah’m ready.”

“Right ho.” He clapped his hands together. “Dawton, warn them we’re going that way and they shouldn’t get in the way.”

“Yes, s… which way, exactly?”

Sarah pointed to the top corner of the screen and Hawle pointed towards her, palm up. “Thataway.”

Dawton looked around, took it in and made a best guess. “Aye, sir. And ma’am.”

“Don’t call me ma’am,” Sarah complained. “I’m a bus driver.”

Hawle looked to Stikka but the Racon opened his mouth first. “It probably is, sir,” he said, checking over all the data Harvey and Gilly had gleaned from the ancient computer.

“What?”

“Too late to rule by fear. The computers in the 14 recorded the direction the dart thing went, by the way. In case you wanted to know?”

“No, I’m fine with it.” He leaned on his arm rest, chin on hand. “It wouldn’t, er, happen to be in the same direction our Avian colleagues pointed us, would it?”

Stikka looked surprised. Shocked even as he flinched back into his seat and the cyber eye changed from gold to his natural blue. “Are you a mind reader, sir?”

“Nah. And I’d never read yours if I could, Gerak. Those thoughts I don’t need.”

“My thoughts are purity itself,” he claimed, drawing a ‘hah’ from the Human on the helm. Hawle handed him a mint imperial which he threw at Sarah’s head. “Yes,” he said as he heard the desired ‘ow’ from the helm, “it does closely match. It ALSO closely matches the direction of the sun they’re pointing us to.”

“Like that’s a surprise right now,” Raven added.

“You’re probably right. You know, I don’t think our friends are going to shoot at us today?”

“They are giving us a goodbye scan,” Match warned.

“Chappers,” Hawle remarked, “as son as we’re clear, let’s show them our heels and hope they’ve not been hiding Ludicrous speed from us.”

“Aye, sir.”


Sarafina helped the Squirrel to his sofa as Gilly opened the door and sighed at the traces of destruction she could still see, despite the best efforts of the clean up crews. He’d had a little trouble staying upright after taking himself out of the medical bay after having gotten bored of the medically prescribed fruit and nut flavoured jelly. “Nah,” he said, “Take me to the computers.” He coughed once. “Let’s see what damage we’re working with.”

“Doctor Barleycorn said you weren’t to exert yourself,” the Vixen said as Gilly opened the door again, permitting Jan into the room.

“My lucky day,” Harvey remarked. “Three beautiful females, none of whom are listening(!)”

“I’m listening,” Sarafina opined, helping him back up and across the room. He grabbed onto his console as Jan explained she was just checking up on if things were alright and if everyone was OK. “Burns’ll heal, Jan,” she said, feeling stronger than she ever had in her life. She’d put herself in some real danger. Now, she figured, she could stand proud as a vixen. Funny she’d never thought of that before, she considered. But now? Yes. Now she COULD do it again, she reckoned. She WOULD do it again if needed. She put her friend down at the computer chair and he started up the systems that linked him to the main computer banks as Gilly got to her station and did likewise.

“We’ll have a report for you in a moment, Jan,” Gilly said, gesturing for Sarafina to get out of her light.

The vixen complied and took up a seat on the sofa. Jan joined her as they waited for the pair to come to a conclusion, flumping down as though she’d had no time to sit today. “I could get these boots off,” she told the Vixen. “But I’d probably never get them back on again.”

“And we’d complain about the smell,” Gilly put in.

Sarafina looked at the boots with curiosity in her eyes. “Do Human boots smell when your feet aren’t in them?”

Jan laughed and scritched Sarafina behind the ear before realising she was doing it, pulling the hand back and apologising. “It’s our feet, Sara. Humans release sweat through the skin an’ the feet’s one of the worst places for it.”

Sarafina scowled. “That sounds very inefficient…”

“And smelly,” Gilly contributed.

“...panting’s more efficient. More seemly too, I think.”

Jan considered this and came to a conclusion. “You,” she told the vixen, “are really coming on in confidence, aren’t you? The things you’ve done have been nothing but impressive and brave. Even Katara’s impressed.” Sarafina could feel her tail thumping the heck out of the sofa. She didn’t mind. This, she thought, was pride. Thumping a Squirrel’s sofa from a Human’s praise whilst her mum prepared to go on a date. A day in which she’d nearly died was becoming the happiest in her life. She reached over and hugged the Human, thanking her breathily into an ear.


“Looks like the systems are OK, Jan,” Harvey said, breaking the moment.