U.S.C. Savval - Contagion.

[Welsh Halfwit]

An intransigent politician and Gerry's feeling insolent...

34


Hawthorne and Gerry teleported down with a pair of security officers and found themselves surrounded by armed guards as they had, in fact, arrived in the presidential compound with virtually no warning. It was a rather cheap looking room, this teleport control and Hawthorne had decided she didn’t want to be here long. “Lieutenant Commander Plebar and IOC investigator Gerry,” she announced, obeying the instructions not to move but talking over the barked orders at the same time. “We’re here to see President Peel on a matter of utmost importance.”

“We will…”

“You will take us to a senior officer NOW,” Hawthorne snapped angrily, making Gerry stare at her in surprise. “It is NOT overstating it,” Hawthorne continued, “that the continued life of everyone on this planet is actually contingent on it!”

“Uh… Re...remain here,” the team leader said, before being immediately overruled.”

“No,” said Captain Craddock, entering the room, “they can follow me.” He waved a hand to indicate they should go with him and the group complied, being led through the passageways, avoiding interns and guards as they went. “I assume things have gotten worse,” the Militia leader asked.

“Exponentially,” Hawthorne replied, having decided, with Gerry, to keep things to a minimum and explain this only the once if she could get away with it. “Have you been able to convince him?”

“Somewhat,” the Captain grumbled.

“We really need to,” Hawthorne said as Craddock opened a door to the main office, a rectangular space with an ornate metal desk occupying the centre, the Lappinian Presidential emblem worked into the front of it to impress the visitors. A more youthful version of Craddock, with some extra brown patches and a nipped left ear, sat behind it, mouth hidden behind his hands as the elbows graced the table.

“And why is that, Lieutenant Commander,” President Peel said with scorn. “You don’t mind if I record this, do you? Are you going to tell me the nonsense you told my underling or are you going to add to it?”

“Add to it,” Gerry said, slipping into a chair as Hawthorne assented to the recording.

“I didn’t invite you to sit,” Peel contended.

“And I didn’t ask. You’ve got much worse problems than me being rude.” She looked up at Hawthorne. “You want to start with the Blackbriars?”

“Apologies for my colleague,” Hawthorne started. “At the beginning of this week, hundreds were dying around her.”

“Then I can forgive the insolence,” Peel granted, fire and acid still in his tone. “I take it now you’re going to blame the Blackbriars for this travesty of an investigation? You know they’re one of the most powerful families in the sector, don’t you?”

“I do,” Hawthorne admitted. “And I don’t much care. Things lead to them. For a start the first to die from the virus worked here, surrounded by Lappineans, peacefully for several years until a group backed publicly by the Blackbriars, forced him out. Forced him to leave. We have statements here. My chief of security and one of your Detectives interviewed several of the workforce. They thought he was just being scared out. This is a copy, of course,” she said, skimming a padd over the counter. Craddock stopped it getting to Peel, ‘just in case’

“Their word against the Blackbriars,” Peel insisted, looking unpreturbed. “It’ll never stand up in court.”

“Won’t have any courts left,” Gerry grumbled quietly, attracting all the ears in the room.

“What was that?”

“Never mind,” the human replied, forcing herself up. “We discovered a tight beam transmission site where one of the other main suspects, Lester Cartwright, happened to work. A safe way to receive transmissions and instructions. We traced the signals back to here.” Gerry tried to pull up the high rez picture of the landscape but had to hand it over to Hawthorne, who pulled it up. “Looks empty, yeah,” Gerry continued. “One of the trees is a powerful transmitter and what’s underground..?” Gerry nudged Hawthorne after the Lappinean didn’t get she was to change the picture to the scan. It showed the lines and heat sources of a small town underneath. “The Blackbriars own the land,” the Human mentioned casually.


Bushey sat with Martins in the science labs on the Savval, helping his fellow Raitchian look over the files on the modem that had been found. There was still a trace of signals from the device’s memory, stored back ups that gave a fractured list of locations and people that had received the information. The University was on there. So too the bottling plant and a certain tree and a house to the north of Richfeld along with a dozen other addresses. “So that thing was sending messages to all these places,” Bushey asked, leaning over Martins’ shoulder to point at the screen.

“It seems so,” the younger Raitchian replied, fighting down the urge to put a hand on Bushey’s neck. “I’d say this was a meeting point for the groups. A communion point, if you will. But it also receives a fair few transmissions as well, according to the log.”

“Can you see from where?”

“Nope,” Martins said, taking the chance to look Bushey in the eye. “That part’s corrupted. Someone must have been watching when the Professor rashly…”

“Hurr,” said a distant voice.

“...had to intercede to stop them wiping it completely,” Martins finished as Durness lectured a member of the Science Division on ways to speed up scans. “You think she heard me,” he whispered to Bushey.

“Yup,” Bushey said as the Mican headed over, theatrically pushing up sleeves she wasn’t wearing.


“Circumstantial,” Peel declared. “It’s all quite thorough but it’s all circumstantial! I’m not going to…”

“Peel,” Craddock implored, “you have to authorise action! If for nothing else than to prove we’re NOT responsible for this! I know the Blackbriars are powerful but the position you are in has to be more powerful! If this gets out…”

“It already has,” Hawthorne remarked, just about grabbing their attention. “Two of our ships are scrambling to intercept and delay a fleet of Militia ships headed this way from Gravidia. Your sensors will be picking them up within the next hour or so, I’d imagine. Three other ships are on their way here.”

“To defend us, I assume,” Peel asked hopefully.

Hawthorne swallowed. “No. If the two ships sent to try to turn the Militia around fail… We’ll need to start evacuating the people. This is them acting in what they see as self defence, Mr President. We will create the peace but we will not engage in defence of an aggressor.”

“Peel…”

“Then the militia will fight and…”

“PEEL,” Craddock roared. “If it comes to it, the Militia WILL fight, yes. But I will not tell my people to lay down their lives because you are too weak to act! Now, as your Clan Senior and as your Militia Commander, I will say this once. If you do not arrange the immediate arrest of the Blackbriars and agree to assist in the dissolution of their properties to diffuse this crisis…” He bared his teeth in anger, making the younger Lappineans flinch. “Then I will have you removed from office under exigent circumstances and do it myself!” He closed in on his younger clan member. “Now make the order.”

[Amazee Dayzee]

Looks like the president is just a figurehead at this point as it is very obvious who is running the show and the name is Craddock. I am just happy that clearer minds seem to be prevailing.

[Welsh Halfwit]

35


The Militia were on the move, Hawthorne noted. It seemed Craddock was efficient at positioning his forces. He’d moved six of his ships to the area of the moon that the Celican fleet would have to come past on their approach to Lappinia IV and had drone ships with transponders that matched the moved ships in orbit around the planet The Savval had noted the extensive use of teleporters to move troops around on the surface and they’d not contacted the U.S.C. vessel for assistance on this. They couldn’t assist anyhow.


Waverly figured he might have it. There was a place called Briar Chem down here. A place that was making medication for the locals, keeping them healthy and fit and providing the vitamins and minerals that a populace that lived out of the sight of the sun would need to survive. He wondered what lie they were telling the populace about their operations as, being interested in sciences and a bit of a mystery buff, he could work out that these people needed to be bringing compounds in from outside. Ergo they had an active teleport system and now he just had to find the location. With no access to maps or ability to ask anyone without them guessing that he was a newcomer, he’d chosen to follow someone dressed like a scientist. One benefit of being down here. Few vehicles. The police presence, however, was a bit concerning. There were a lot of uniformed danger down here, patrolling in pairs with very obvious recourse to firearms if you challenged them. Or if your presence challenged them. So he was keeping back, following at a distance.


Doctor Quella felt the last of her strength go as the mayhem of the days surgery adrenaline rush finally drained from her and she just about managed to land on her office chair rather than the floor. She half smiled at the thought and realised she’d never have let that happen anyhow. Much too undignified. The work on the sheriff was mostly cosmetic now after the rebuilding of the muzzle by the systems and the reconstruction surgery with regards the veins, capillaries, nerves and arteries. The artificial nose would never be as good as his real one, of course, but it would suffice. Then she had Impella. She didn’t want to think about the surgeries left on the Raitchian. She didn’t want to think about how she was alive, let alone awake. There was something unnatural in the Raitchian’s make up, she was sure of it. Too many platelets and healing cells perhaps. Either way, she’d sent the samples to Durness but, apparently, the scientist had been needed down on the planet for some time so hadn’t been able to start her work until a short while ago, the Chief Medical Officer realised. Impella was sedated now as they were working to reduce the time in stasis now. She was paired up with a pile of machinery to monitor and maintain her. The Quokkan’s tail drooped as she began to relax, knowing her staff could take on the burden of the rest tonight. Was it night?


Keila sat on the bed they’d assigned to her in the room they’d assigned to her and wondered if there was no-where bigger. She appreciated that the Equinna/Mican hybrid nurse had offered up the room, of course. She wouldn’t want to be unappreciative but there was still an issue regarding the eight and a half feet tall Lappinean fitting in a bed big enough for a seven foot Mican with flared nostrils. She huffed a laugh as she supposed her issue with the room was life’s issue with her. She was too big to fit anywhere that wasn’t already stuffed with Flemans and she’d wanted to put the lie to the truth that all Flemans were seen as the muscle with little else to bring to the table. It wasn’t true, which was why she’d taught herself engineering and how to fix vehicles. Enough to get an apprenticeship and, then, to get into the militia to serve her people. Where she’d immediately been drafted into the sports team and learned to tolerate it. Her cousin had been a godssend, really, the smaller mix helping her keep her sense of humour and her patience until she’d been caught in the Backfooter club’s attack on a small Feline club in Raydale. The explosion hadn’t just been contained within the club, that most locals ignored until pieces of it flew at their heads and crashed through bones. She’d gone off on a bit of a tear there, supported, clandestinely, by her superiors as there had been no Felines in the club at the time but six Lappineans, including Children would never walk again. And those were the one’s of the six that could still breathe. She hated the club and it’s members. They refused to understand that bombing your own people was a beef consumme-poor way to bring them over to your side. And then it turned out there were some of them working with her. Alongside her. They’d known her feelings and still they’d tricked her. She focussed on how she’d wanted Fratton dead in that interrogation room and it was only the Human reminding her she was better than him and he’d have to arrest her if she didn’t let up that had brought some fresh sanity to the clouded thoughts. She couldn’t help people from behind security fields, could she? And that was what she wanted to do. Help people and… She lifted herself up from the bed and bent her ears so they didn’t run across the ceiling before she decided what she needed to do and left the room.


Engineer Eckersley was concerned about the state of her engines and was fine tuning them as she did every time the Savval was paused in a mission with an enemy fleet on the way. It settled her nerves and kept her from panicking as the Captain inevitably asked her to do something impossible in an improbable time. People thought Engineers were miracle workers but, in Eckersley’s experience, that was only because they worked at it. Miracles were nothing. Maintaining them without the ship suffering in the long term was the real trick. She had formulations in play and plans ready for implementation, like taking some power from life support to reinforce shielding or engines if needed as, if the shields or engines failed under fire, Life support would be a total irrelevance. She had others checking the other systems as they worked and tried not to think of Impella and what was happening to their friend. It was true the Raitchian was slightly aloof but so were many people she liked. Durness for one. Martins for another but she had a feeling she just wasn’t that Raitchian’s type. The light cut out and she pulled herself upright to see the huge visitor asking if she could help. Eckersley wondered if she could hold up the ceiling.


Grant, Bushey and Gerry were on the surface, with the Militia, Emre and Flass. They’d told them why they weren’t able to contact anyone on comms. It was so no-one could warn the Blackbriars they were coming. It was known the locals had their own troops and a confrontation was expected. Piebauld was watching over them, keeping a teleport block on the area so no-one was going to get out. They were ready to move.


Waverly had the base in sight. Probably. He hoped Denver would be able to… someone hit him.

[Amazee Dayzee]

Doesn't it just bite when you are smacked by something in mid-thought that you weren't expecting? It can really make you lose any ideas you are coming up with at the time. LOL

[Welsh Halfwit]

36


It felt like he’d been hit over the back of his head and Waverly thought that kind of appropriate as the memory of being blatted on the back of his head swung back into his mind with the pounding effect of someone who’d been… well, he knew he was thinking repetitively but that was useful in ascertaining the facts. Blinded? By rags. Hands? Tied. Mouth? Not tied. Ears? Not plugged. Comm? Bit staticy in the ear and Colin had his wrist unit (they were tracking the in ear implant) Feet? Bit bound. Head? Whacked in the back of. Yup. He could hear people moving about, even over the distorted sound of Colin saying he was coming as Waverly was being too still and quiet. It was easy as he was tied to a chair and trying to look unconscious. He was going to need to pull it off for as long as he could if he was going to buy them time. It was easy enough for someone who’d been blatted on the back of the h…

“I know you’re conscious, stranger,” a male voice said. “You can stop pretending. You groaned as you woke up.”

Waverly looked up and remembered the fabric was over his eyes so he twisted his ears to hear. “Just trying to gett my head in order,” he winced, “someone hit it.”

“That’d be me. Who are you?”

“Stu...ow. Stewart Hardimann, Burrowzone… 4. Ow.”

“Oh, I doubt that.. Stewart. I know the people down here, you see? Most of them work for me. I know you’re not a regular. I know you’re from outside.” The voice moved around the side and Waverly’s ear twisted to follow. “Overhead, even.” He leaned in closer to whisper. “I know the teleport mines have been used. Now I just have to find out how FAR overhead you’ve come from. Won’t that be fun?” Waverly heard something fizz into life.


Colin’s team were making their way at pace through the back alleys of the town, trying to stay out of the line of sight after Piebauld had told them she had no way to teleport them from point to point inside the structure of the hill without knowing the exact layout. They’d had little choice but to use their captive to lead them after assuring them that getting to the plant meant there was less danger to the colony. They had no real knowledge as to if they could trust him and it was taking them time as he was attached by rope to Colin’s hand and some of them couldn’t jump as high as the local so they were having to climb half walls on occasion and… Uh, oh. Someone called out as they vanished out of an alleyway and they could hear bounding feet as someone came after them from the main street. Colin nodded and Harlow sighed. He wasn’t going to like this but it had to be done. He stepped to the side of the alley and, as soon as the Doe that had called out appeared, he punched her hard in the temple and gripped her to put her in a sleeper hold that had her scrabbling against his arms for several seconds before succumbing. He placed her down in a seated position and rejoined the group. The local told them what he thought of them. “She’ll recover,” Harlow said, spraying his arm with a healing spray. “I’m no killer.”

“No,” the local allowed. “Humans don’t quite have the same bloodlust I suppose.”

“Was that a compliment?”

“You also cant’ run worth a *^&$,” the local grinned, before resuming his route.


Bushey watched as the militia showed their subtlety by driving an APC through the wall of the Blackbriar mansion. The wall fell in and the secret electric field arced and tried to deal with the hardened shell of the vehicle as it crossed the rubble and the forces inside the wall rushed to cover it. The thump of a mortar in the background led to the whistle of a round in flight and the call of the Militia leader to advance as the lawn close to the APC exploded into turf and shrapnel. Grant took the front and fired his issued pistol as Bushey fought the desire to pull the dad to be back into cover and ask him what the heck he thought he was doing. But he was just hoping the energy diffusion armour would Flass had supplied would work well as Flass charged past with her rifle, firing at the closest trooper as the ground thumped around them and the battle began in earnest. Withe the mortars pinpointed, two of the Savval’s five Starlancers raced overhead, rocking the sky with noise and the thrust of their engines as they angled to fire on the mortar positions. Air defence weapons turned towards them and Emre fired a shoulder mounted rocket that he’d not fired since his Militia training days and watched the projectile weave a ragged path through the air and crunch into the tower holding the auto turret, blowing out some of the masonry, stone and metalwork and altering the position of the cannon so its energy fire rippled over toward the horizon. Grant threw himself into the first guard he saw, grappling them to the ground and punching.


The figure kept moving, although Waverly had given up on trying to figure out where he was now. He was hurting too much. He couldn’t feel his left ear tip now. He had the distinct impression it had been cut off. That was certainly what it felt like when the sheer heat had been applied. A couple of his fingers had been broken behind his back and the blade that had scratched his side from under the left arm down to the hip had been sharp enough that he didn’t know if his skin had split like paper or if he’d just had it played adown the surface. “You’re quite courageous,” the voice admitted. “All this and you still won’t tell me who’s after me. The Colony or the Council. I suppose it could be both. The things we’ve started here will change the future of the entire colony if it gets it’s change. Oh, there are always those who hold back change. Out of loyalty, decency, knowing they’ll lose some of the battles but…” He leaned in closer, making Waverly flinch, “we get to win the WAR,” he hissed. “Now,” he continued, “who’s up there, hmm? Who do I have to avoid on the way out? Pardon the monologue being cut short but I see my family home is under assault so I can’t go out that way. So I need to make for orbit. But who’s up there, hmm? You know and I want to know. So how’s about you tell me, hmm?” Waverly felt the chair be pulled back. “Please,” the voice asked. Waverly could feel the heat again, closing on his left foot…


Colin had let go of his captive as they looked on the plant with the pair of armed guards outside it. He’d headed back, away from the firefight that was about to come but Denver was under no illusions as to his loyalty, nor the fact he’d bring back reinforcements. But that was OK. It was why he’d not divulged everything to him. “Denver to Piebauld,” he said, tapping his comm.

<“Go ahead.”>

“Lock on. Area behind me is clear for some distance. Width… ten feet.”

<“Understood. Commencing transports.”>


A few minutes later, a good dozen Militia, two security officers and a Fleman Giant were with them.

[Amazee Dayzee]

Waverly is going to have to spend an EXTRAORDINARY amount of time in the hospital healing from all of his wounds after this isn't he? Sounds like his torturer is being careful to avoid any vital organs now but I wonder how long that will last.

[Welsh Halfwit]

Let the chaos begin...

37


“We found the…” Colin started, before turning and seeing the Giant shape in armour behind him. He’d thought Sorus the Equinna had transferred… The helmet was wrong. Oh, right, he’d heard one of these had gotten involved in this. “You’re the Fleman?” the figures head moved. “Just nod in this case,” Colin advised, deciding to show her how to engage the speaker when they weren’t sneaking around. “We found the factory, we believe,” Colin continued. “There are guards around it and we’re pretty sure Waverly’s in there as his earpiece hasn’t moved in some time.”

“You’re sure on this,” the Militia leader asked with exaggerated patience that indicated he really didn’t want to be here.

“Well, either he’s here or his ear is,” Colin remarked grimly.

“What’s the plan?”

“No time for one of those,” Colin admitted, making sure his energy dispersal vest was on correct as he donned the helmet one of the Savval crew had brought for the team. It wasn’t battle gear but it was hard to sneak in combat armour. “One of the locals knows we’re here. He led us but has probably gone to tell people. Closest and fastest plan?” He stepped back to Keila and disengaged the suit weaponry as she didn’t know how to use them. He showed her how to turn the force shield on. “You,” he said, “charge. We’ll follow.”

She nodded and he knew she’d said ‘right’ inside the helmet. He stood to one side and held up three fingers as she got into position. Two. She tensed, her position changed. One… go. She powered forward, moving almost easily inside the heavy armour at quite some pace, making Colin double take before he recalled he was supposed to be running after her, as were the rest.


“I might have to leave you soon,” the voice said, still sounding young, even to Waverly’s mangled senses. He had no clue how he’d not passed out, even though his torturer had stopped short of taking his entire foot, settling for a portion. “You’ve been quite interesting. It’s the Savval up there, is it?” Waverly tensed. He’d not said the ship’s name. “Oh, it was easy to work out from your name, Lieutenant Waverly. If you have connections anyhow. Sayta class clipper. Capable of velocity 4.2, Fawren Stayva three shields and twin heavy energy cannons. Five Starlancers. Good firepower but not insurmountable. And not inescapable. The question is, I suppose, what do I do with you?” He paused for a few seconds, letting Waverly draw a breath from between his broken teeth. He chuckled lightly. “Ooh, they’re shooting an action movie at my house, it seems. A war epic with explosions and everything. It looks spectacular. And a full spread of the species on your side. Very egalitarian. Hah. You’ve even got a Human!” He let out a breath. “Oh, never mind though. They’re many miles away.” He put his hands on Waverly’s shoulders, making him jump. “So tense,” he said. “It’s almost like you think it’s time to die…”


“What’s the situation with the public and the preparations,” Hawthorne asked Craddock as the Admiral sat in her office.

“There are no preparations, Commander,” he admitted. “Such a thing would cause mass panic and thousands of casualties when, if luck holds, no evacuation will be needed. You’ll have to go random selection although I’ll supply the commdata for listed scientists, medical officers and biodata so you can scan for their immediate families. Along with the data for spouses. Several ships have requested to leave the planet. They’re registered.”

“Paradoxically, they cannot be allowed to leave,” Hawthorne remarked. “We don’t know how fast these backfooters have moved but we know they are moving. Anyone on those ships could be carrying the contagion on them.”

“Or IN them,” Craddock agreed. “Trusted medics are helping clear the lists. It can’t be one hundred percent effective, of course, as we don’t know how many hold grudges but they’ve all seen conflict before, in colonial fights or in the Patch war of a decade back. My ships are ready to confront the Celican fleet if they arrive.” He paused. “Has the Loper made contact yet?”

“Thirty minutes ago,” Hawthorne admitted. “It would have been earlier but the Rodomont hadn’t arrived and my cousin wanted to present the full hand.”

Craddock side eyed her. “You’re cousin is the ‘mad rabbit’,” he asked rhetorically. “Well, I guess we’re all ears in now.”

“He did send that there is a problem. There’s no-one senior on the Celican fleet. They’re being led by a Captain Zayle.”

Craddock put his glass down and straightened his face at the mention of the name. “I know that one,” he said tightly, whiskers twitching. “Impetuous, with an itchy trigger finger and barely adequate hunting skills. The type to fire from orbit.”

“So, the sort you don’t want near your planet. Apparently Colleen Una’s managed to convince them that she need to speak to the ministers from there so they’ve established a link. Captain Xarra of the Rodomont’s convinced them that, if they move before Una’s made her case, she’ll open fire on them.”

“Will she?”

“That’s not our orders.”

<“Sorry to interrupt,”> Cheel stated from the bridge, making Hawthorne wonder how she’d done that since she’d not connected by name, <“but there’s a ship taking off from the Riverton area. The locals aren’t getting any luck with hails.”>

“Move to intercept,” Hawthorne ordered..


Emre ‘knocked’ on the front door by joyfully blowing it off its hinges with a missile that took out a good portion of the wall around the door as well as the first defenders behind it. Flass did her best to lead the charge into the building but was overtaken by several militia members who engaged the interior guards in hand to hand combat.


Denver collapsed backwards under the impact of a direct shot to the chest. The energy dissipated on the covering but it still had a significant impact that was going to leave a bruise on the winded Canine’s body. Leila, replete in combat armour, picked up one of her assailants, threw him upwards, grabbed his feet and swung him in a wide arc, cracking her unfortunate opponent into several of his colleagues before ending his journey and his life against the side of the building. “We need to… get in,” Colin called, pushing into cover before getting up. “Now! Break for the doors!”


There were rather a lot of armed town police arriving behind them...

[Amazee Dayzee]

I am really looking forward to seeing what happens with this melee that is about to commence here. I foresee a lot of people getting some of their bones broken with the moves that will be dealt.

[Welsh Halfwit]

38


The Savval engaged engines for ten seconds to push them closer to the two militia ships covering the spaceport as Hawthorne tried to use the new communication systems to contact the captain of the ship trying to take off and ask him what he thought he was up to. There had been no answer. “Still planning t’boot it from what I can see,” Cheel commented breezily .

“Think you can block him if he tries,” she replied.

“Bet my life, boss.”

“Hows about we bet with something valuable? Quarter of the profits from that vault sale you’ve organised go the the Council benevolent funds – as an anonymous donation, of course,” she added as Cheel yelped. “If you win, I don’t mention the borderline legal sale of possibly stolen goods ever again. Deal?”

“A. No-one can prove any of that stuff was filched as I got all the provenances. B, you got it, Cap.” The Raitchian turned back to her console and started working furiously to make sure she didn’t lose the ship. Hawthorne pulled up a visual of a light personal carrier shuttle, capable of reaching most nearby colonies within a few days. The kind of ship a recklessly wealthy person might own so they didn’t have to schlepp with the hoi-polloi on liners. “Want me to sit on top of it, Skip,” Cheyla asked brightly.

“About one hundred and twenty thousand feet above it on the Z axis please.”

“Right-ho.”

“Are things always this informal on your bridge, Commander,” Craddock asked from the back of the bridge, where he had been seated by a locked out console. There were just the four of them on the bridge including an ensign who could move to the helm if anything happened to the helm – which was why Cheyla hated him as doing it wasn’t the same as being an artist doing it. “Only when it’s just a few here, sir,”Hawthorne reported. “The humour tends to keep things calm and doesn’t lead to unprofessionalism.”

The Admiral grunted an assent and kept the fact he preferred a little more refinement to himself. This wasn’t his bridge, his ship or even his navy. And she was related to Commander Chaos, the most bewilderingly successful Lappinean in the area. The type all cadets wanted to be like, despite all their trainers telling them it would end with their skulls mounted in someones war room with their ears eaten. Because half the instructors wanted to be him too.

“Hailing them,” Hawthorne told the trio “This is the U.S.C. Savval to Cruiser Bordelaire. Lappinia IV have not cleared you for take off. Please return to pre ascent conditions immediately”

The response came through the speakers in a cold, static filled way that Hawthorne had to clean up to reduce the feedback. <“This is the Bordelaire,”> a strident voice stated. <“We are a privately owned shuttle and this flight has been logged with control for weeks. You have no right to restrict our movement, Savval.”>

“Right or not, we’re going to Bordelaire. The Militia have tried to contact you several times over the last ten minutes to get you to stop and you’ve ignored them. You’re not ignoring us. No-one leaves Lappinia IV right now without being inspected by the Militia first. That includes you. You try to leave, we will force you back down to the surface or tractor beam you to keep you in position.”

<“I repeat, you have no right...”>

“They have every right,” Craddock shouted. “This is Militia Admiral Craddock. Under article 251 of Colonial law, the right to search any vessel is given to the lawful representatives of the state or Federal authority under emergency circumstances. Do NOT attempt to leave orbit and prepare for an inspection team or I’ll fire the shots that cripple your engines myself!” The message cut out as the Militia ship Padary joined the Savval. Craddock looked to Hawthorne. “I wouldn’t actually…” He noted she seemed deep in thought, her ears twitching slightly. “What’s wrong?”

“They refused to answer your hails,” Hawthorne mused. “In fact they ignored them. Than, as soon as we call them,..”

“They answer,” Craddock finished. “In fact, the only reason we came over here is because they refused to answer hails.”

Hawthorne tapped away at her arm controls. “Nothing much looks like it’s changed,” she advised. “One of your ships is a bit out of position but that’s par for the scenario. The Night Harvest.”

Craddock nodded. “I’ll have a word with her…” He stopped, his left ear twisting as though he expected attack at any immediate point. “The Night Harvest?”

“According to this, she’s just leaving the capital now.”

Craddock smiled an almost unpleasant smile and his eyes twinkled as he shook his head. “That’s not possible,” he told the room. “She suffered a major engine failure a week ago. The entire thing’s been stripped out. I saw it on the line yesterday. No way she’s flying.”

Hawthorne felt the ship shift and accelerate before she’d given Cheel the order to intercept the Night Harvest. She gave it anyway. For protocol’s sake before contacting the Padary to take over the situation here.


Colin fired down the hallway interior as Keila kept three from ambushing him from behind. Inside the suit, she noted the energy field was at thirty-three percent anftar all the fighting and things seemed to be getting more intense so she decided to take some action of her own and charged the trio as the Malamutian dealt with the forward opposition. She spread her arms wide in front of her and roared silently as the speaker was still off as she readied her massive hands to grip people like those who’d killed her cousin and she felt that maybe she was going just a little combat happy as she saw their faces turning from resolute to scared to pooping themselves as the giant was about to smash them. The other Savval members made their way to Denver’s position, ignoring the cries of pain from the guards behind them.

“Can we keep her,” Harlow asked as he made his way to a doorway and took up forward position to cover Denver’s advance.

“You’d have to feed her,” Denver cheeked as Harlow’s shot impacted the chest of the defender and dropped him to the floor.

“Locals are keeping the locals out,” Harlow told him, before a second defender put a shot to the Human’s upper chest, near the shoulderblade. The shot hurt like anything as the energy dissipation layer failed to completely dissipate the impact at this short range and the Human felt the burning impact snap his shoulderblade. He cried out a few seconds before Colin shot the assailant.


A few moments later, no-one not wearing a U.S.C. outfit seemed to be alive in this part of the base and Colin stepped into an office that seemed to have been vacated in a hurry. There was someone chained to a chair attached to a drip feed mechanism. He was barely identifiable as Waverly. “Oh, gods,” the Canine muttered, hurrying to check the vitals as the others entered, Keila assisting Harlow. The figure flinched as he touched the neck. Colin practically attacked his comm, he hit it so hard. “We need a medic down here!”

[Amazee Dayzee]

Not really sure who that person is but that is just horrifying. I hope that they were able to get to them in time to save them.

[Welsh Halfwit]

That's Waverly.

[Amazee Dayzee]

Oh I skipped over the part where his name was given since I was kind of in a rush. But still with the amount of damage that he has done to him I doubt that if he survives he will be able to be involved in anything again.

[Welsh Halfwit]

39


Commander Hawle sighed as he looked over at the talks he wasn’t taking part in Colleen Una, roving junior ambassador at large, was trying to convince Admiral Galston of the Gravidian Militia, that they shouldn’t go and shoot holes into Lappinea IV because there was obviously no proof that the virus came from there. Which was extra problematic, he reasoned, as they had no official statement on the virus coming from Lappinea IV in the first place. So he was spending hours looking at the small, ugly ships of the Militia and the huge, ugly, ship of the Rodomont as they all sat there, shields up and weapons down to allude to the fact they were here in peace and weren’t going to leave them in pieces. He flicked a mint imperial into his mouth and crunched. “Any news from the Militia, Stikka,” he asked his second officer.

The cyborg Racon jumped in his seat and paused the playback of ‘Our XI lives’ he had running through his brain, where they’d been about to discover who was, really, the mother of Charles’ kittens, and pulled up the latest posts from Raven, who was sitting in on the talks as she could ensure the safety of Colleen. And the mighty Burman Feline didn’t have any weapons on her. Just a personal force field – which she had Colleen wearing – twenty powerful claws, the strength of an Oxen and the temper control of a toddler denied their favourite toy. Well, third favourite. “Nothing in the last five minutes, sir. Hang on,” he corrected, “she’s typing now.”

“Saying what?”

“How would I know? She’s typing, not sending a telepathic message, sir.”

“Getting irritable, Greyson,” Hawle cheeked.

“Just want to get back to the soaps, sir.”

“Ah.”

“She says that the Admiral’s splitting his forces.”

“Uh, oh.”

“Half of them are to proceed to Lappinia IV to… watch over the Savval as they investigate as they have no reason to trust the Lappinians and, don’t worry, they’ll stop the Militia if they turn on the Council ship. The rest are staying here to talk.”

“Taking it down to a mere twenty ships against our two…”

“An’ twenty on their way t’ Lappinia IV,” Fortuna added from the helm before a mint Imperial bopped him on the back of the head.

“I’ll get you used to the ‘cone of silence’ around these command chairs one day, Fortuna.” Hawle declared, “but it’s good to know you can count. Work out combat tactics for facing twenty Mititia ships, would you? “

“Aye,” the mildly grinning Human said. “Figured we weren’t supposed t’ fire on these gits?”

“We won’t fire first, I assure you. Dawton, call Hawthorne and tell her what’s up, will ya?”


“This is the U.S.C. Savval to ship purporting to be the Night Harvest,” Hawthorne told the bridge and the ship in front of them in this particular part of the cosmos. Well, for ‘in front’ of them, it was six million miles and thirty degrees down on the Z axis, trying to roll away from the incoming ship. “We know you’re not the Night Harvest. In fact you look more like a Lapistech seven stroke five cruiser than you do a Comarclan ninety clipper ship. Stand down and prepare to be boarded by the Militia forces or we shall disable your ship.”

<“Firing on this ship would be an act in violation of your orders, Commander,”> the voice replied. <“Moving you from neutrality to a pro-Celican stance. Tantamount to an act of war.”>

“War’s already been declared, fella,” Hawthorne retorted. “There’s a Celican fleet on its way to reply to an attack they believe you caused. I’m under orders to discover the truth and avert an actual shooting war in which tens of thousands will die. I believe you had something to do with that and we need to find out. So,” she finished, trying to sound stern, “if, to avoid a shooting war, I actually have to shoot your engines to debris, I’m gonna do it. Stand down or find out.” She closed the line and started charging the forward weapons.


Gerry huffed as she made it into the manor house, dislodging a Lappinean with a shoulder charge and not feeling the damage done to her already unlovely face. She finally understood why combat veterans wore headbands. It wasn’t just to stop the sweat getting in their eyes, it was to stop the blood of a dozen cuts getting there too. She’d gone in by the back door with her own team, meaning to secure the rear entrance, and she’d had to avoid all the debris of the fallen tower whilst being shot at from the upstairs windows. When it had been pointed out they didn’t have full armour in her – ahem – size, she’d pointed out she’d take what they had and couldn’t authorise Grant and Bushey to do something she wasn’t prepared to do herself. The Militia Commander on the ground had understood this but didn’t want to explain the death of an IOC officer so had put her where she’d only been shot seven times, depleting the protection field her vest offered her significantly. She swivelled and booted the Lappinean on the floor in the muzzle with her size tens, silencing him for quite a while as she took his weapon, realised it was biolocked to his genome and broke it against the wall whilst her group entered. “You two,” she instructed, indicating a pair of likelies who looked a little bit offended to be ordered by a Human, “Watch over the door. No-one get’s out unchallenged.”

They glanced to their Corporal, who nodded. It was a good idea, he supposed. He caught up to her as she was checking the scullery. “Please give me the instructions for my people, Agent Gerry,” he advised politely. “They’re used to the chain of command.”

“You’re right, of course,” she replied tersely. “Force of habit is to do things direct when people are shooting at me but I’ll waste the time in future. For the chain.” She opened a pantry door and stepped back as she heard something. “You hear that?”

“Of course,” the Corporal gruffed. Sounded like someone going upstairs.”

“I didn’t see any stairs near here,”

“With those eyes,” the Corporal cheeked, before adding a ‘sir’ that made it sound even worse. “Probably a secret passage.” He tried turning several hooks until Gerry reached up to the one that didn’t have a pot hanging from it and turned that left, releasing a secret panel that led to stairs.

“This is the IOC,” Gerry called loudly as something exploded in the garden. “Come down now and you will not be harmed! Make us come up and I cannot guarantee your safety!” Nothing.


With the stairs being Lappinean, Gerry let the Corporal send a couple of his up first and he helped her climb the stairs when they called back that Gerry and Corp should come up here. After a few moments, Gerry stood in a playroom, where a couple of leverets were hugging each other in the middle of the room and trembling. Gerry looked skywards. “Well,” she said, before teaching the Leverets an extremely bad word their parents wouldn’t appreciate them knowing.

[Amazee Dayzee]

Glad to see that Hawle is now finally in this story so I will be paying attention to what he does. Once this is over I can see him needing to take a break by going to a carnival maybe.

[Welsh Halfwit]

Ah, he's only making a cameo.

[Welsh Halfwit]

40


The ship purporting to be the Night Harvest continued to move, striving to achieve the distance between herself and Lappinia IV to safely go to velocity speeds without causing shockwave damage to the colony and it was giving the Savval a chance to catch up as, despite having to round the planet, she was already up to good speed and the clipper was nearing weapons range as two Militia ships worked their way in from the other side. They were five minutes away. The Savval was two out and gaining as Eckersley provided all the extra power she could as there was nothing to stop the Harvest going to velocity if needed, colony bedamned.


The bridge of the Savval was tensed, ready for combat now, the only sounds being the natural sounds of a ship with the vibrations of the engine complementing the humm of the shields rising and the near imperceptible whine of the weapons powering up. Craddock, sat to the back, asked what Hawthorne was going to do first. Torpedo, he asked.

“Nah,” she reported, “I’d prefer to stop them, not blow half the ship apart. Ready forward cannons,” The weapons Officer grunted in assent and Hawthorne ordered to fire at long range. The viewer extrapolated the energy flow into beams of light that scoured through space, dissipating in power through range and impacting on the rear thrusters of the fleeing ship. The visage shook under the impact. “She’s raisin’ shields,” Cheel warned. “And she’ trying to send out a signal.”

“Good job this comm system can jam theirs, isn’t it,” Hawthorne remarked. “Primary rule when doing something dubious. Don’t let others know you’re doing it.”

Martins finally managed to get to the science station and logged on. “Their engines got damaged,” he said, judging by the readings taken before the shielding went up. “Not irreparable but…”

“Enough to change flight to fight,” Hawthorne remarked as the ship was clearly changing attitude to turn towards them.


The fight in the factory was entering the final stage as Colin and Harlow found themselves face to face with a Lappinean in a small stockpile of chemicals in containers that looked complete enough and there were the handful of water dancers and a handful of very dead Celicans in the isolation ward at the end. Two Lappinean staff looked at them in alarm. “We… we just…”

“Work here, right,” Denver scoffed. “It’s nothing to do with us, honest, guv.”

“We didn’t know they was making a biological plague,” Harlow added, keeping his weapon levelled as painkillers kept the agony of the shoulder blade at bay. “We thought it was just a face cream and we dunno why the Celicans…” He shifted aim and fired as the other Lappinean threw a capsule that cracked against the wall before Harlow’s bolt caught him in the upper chest and seny him flying backwards into one of the stockpiles. Harlow thrust himself at Denver to thrust the Malamute out of the room as something started hissing from the shattered container as the first threw something after them. The pair fell back into the passageway and Harlow scrambled up to shut the door tight as Colin regained his footing. “Neither… of us is Celican, Ensign,” he remarked, getting his breath back.

“Too many containers to be sure they were just for Celican’s Commander,” Harlow replied, arching in pain as the painkillers failed. He gritted his teeth and managed to claim “I took no chances.”

Colin nodded. He supposed he understood. It’d need a fully sealed suit to go in there. The Malamute glanced in at the scene and wished he hadn’t. The concentrated form of whatever had been released was doing its work quickly, it seemed. And the Lappinean that had been left standing was obviously not as pure as he thought he was, judging by the blood in his vomit. “Few of us are as pure as we think,” he said bitterly, keeping his eyes on the dying scientist. “I wonder what you were ‘contaminated’ by?” He tore his gaze away and tapped his comm. “Denver to Commander Tertian,”

<“What is it, Commander?”>

“We’ve just found a stockpile of chemicals. Get everywhere non Lappinians are locked down. They’re not just targetting Celicans. It’s all the other races.”

Things were silent in Denver’s ear for a moment. <“Understood,”> he replied.

Colin tapped his comm again. “Denver to Savval.” No answer. “Denver to Savval?” He looked concerned. “She’s not where she was,” he advised as Harlow collapsed.


Energy fire lashed across the bow of the Savval’s shields as Cheel adjusted course to push aside and the weapons officer fired back, missing due to Cheel’s move. He chose not to complain. She chose not to tell him that she wasn’t going to let the ship be shot whilst he tried to shoot the ship. The lesser ships of the Militia entered the fight from behind, their weapons ineffectively splashing the rear quarter of the cruiser as the ship concentrated on the Savval as the Council ship wove her way around and past, the forward weapons pulsing intentionally as they ripped into the cruiser’s shields. The Savval took a broadside from the flank mounted anti fighter weaponry as her own such weapons fired back. Hawthorne could see some internal comms requests for medical assistance in several departments. This’d get worse, she figured, as Cheel worked to pull the ship around and try to get on the tail of the opponent as it tried to get past. Two other Militia ships were on their way in as the cruiser continued firing on the three ships currently in its way. One of the Militia ships faltered and detonated under the onslaught as the Savval’s fire crunched the hull around one of the weapons systems. “Focus on that,” she told the weapons officer.

“They’re diverting shield energy to cover it,” Martins called. “We only breached because they dropped shields to fire out. They’re at seventy percent,” he added as the bridge shook and the lights flickered for a second. “We’re at…”

“Never tell me the odds,” Hawthorne instructed him, knowing the situation from her readout anyhow. It wasn’t great. They were unlikely to win without a lucky shot or two. But that was OK.

“If I can get through, I’ll direct more ships over here,” Craddock offered.

“They’re needed over where they are,” Hawthorne replied, holding on as Cheel engaged a rapid and shape positioning change as the cruiser used lower port thrusters to turn about its’ axis and tried to almost swat the council ship. She looked at her armrest panel as a light began to flash on it. “Besides, I think we have enough power over here,” she added as the cruiser blasted the rear of the ship. “Torpedo aft, Mr Utrecht,”

“Aye, Captain,” the weapons officer replied, “but it won’t do much with her shields up.”

“Except overload them, possibly, and blind her for a few seconds,” Hawthorne mooted as the projectile launched. The ship strove for distance as energy fire lanced into the back of the hull and Hawthorne hoped there was no-one in the aft sections as they took the brunt before the shielding system got back up to protect from, amongst other things, the blast wave of the projectile that thrust the ship forward as it impacted the Harvest’s shields.

“Ship…” Cheel said, before shaking her head free of the cobwebs. “Ship incoming. No ident.”

“Introducing,” Hawthorne said, wondering if she’d bitten her own cheek as the large, angular, vessel bearing the name U.S.C. Tychon on its’ flank, “our new cruiser.”

[Amazee Dayzee]

Shame that we won't be seeing much more of Hawle but it makes sense as to why he hadn't had some sort of substance thrown in his face. LOL I also take it that at some point Hawthorne will get that lucky shot and end the battle even though her odds suck because I can't see her losing this fight.

[Welsh Halfwit]

Oh, the big hit's coming...

[Amazee Dayzee]

You mean the big hit for Hawthorne and not for Hawle right? I can't tell who you were referring to there since I made a comment about Hawle's face escaping unscathed.

[Welsh Halfwit]

41


Commander Krayven knew they were arriving soon and he was backing up a Lappinean scientist that he actively outranked. It rankled with him, prickling his grey and tan fur but he had to agree with Sector Command. They’d just arrived from the core worlds and this Doe knew the situation better than he did, although he planned to learn quickly. He leaned forward on an armrest. This sector, known to some as the Briar Patch, was full of dangers. Pirate clans and corporate espionage. He was looking forward to the challenge as it was a poor Commander who was never tested. He knew the locals were preparing for combat but he wasn’t looking to announce himself unless needed so had turned the transponder off and was running silent as he tracked the Savval’s signal around the planet. What was the vessel doing? It had moved to prevent a cargo ship from breaking the cordon but now she was after something being identified as a Militia ship? Was the Lieutenant Commander losing it? “We in visual,” the Wolven asked his Raitchian First Officer, Commander Millet.

The Rodentine checked. “Without using full scanners,” he replied, “we are in range.”

“Then put the Savval on screen,” he ordered. “Broadway,” he snapped, referring to his Fennekin comms Officer, “are the ships saying anything?”

“Uh, yup,” the Vixen replied, running her little fingers over the panel, “they are…”

Krayven’s eyes narrowed as he saw the ships on screen. “That’s no Militia ship,” he growled. “A Lapistech cruiser. The Savval’s outgunned. She’ll have to let him go…”

“Seems not, Commander,” Broadway put in sharply before putting in a static filled relay of the ‘war has already been declared’ speech.

Krayven gave a wry smile at Hawthorne’s line of avoiding a shooting war by shooting the ship. “I might like this Rabbitoid,” he mused, eliciting a look from his first at the use of the old fashioned name. “I don’t need to be politically correct when there’s not one around to hear! Now,” he added, sitting in his command chair and strapping in. “Accelerate into battle! Shields up, raise weapons and sound battle stations! We have people to save! If anyone wants to argue that firing’s not in our mission orders, stick it! A Council ship’s under fire!”


Five minutes passed and the ship thundered into the scene, covering the Savval with her shields as she put herself between the two ships and fired the four forward energy cannons to lash the enemy craft with fire before helm officer Daklan banked to starboard to avoid collision. Ktayven noted with a wry smile that the Savval had looped to port and wasn’t backing out of the fight, even with her depleted and damaged shields and systems. “Broadwave, connect us to the Savval.”

“On it,” she replied.


“Commander Krayven,” Hawthorne greeted, her ears flailing as Cheel manoeuvred to avoid incoming fire, “your timing is impeccable.”

<“It’s all in the skill,”> the flickering image on her armrest monitor said, leaving the main fight on the big screen.replied. <“Why the engagement?”?

“We were drawn to the oher side of the planet by a diversion. Meant to let this ship escape, pretending to be a Militia ship, we believe. They refused orders to stand down and be searched for the chemicals we’re looking for.”

<“So you’re shooting them. I approve.”> He staggered as his ship was hit on the shields. <“Sure you want them alive,”> he asked.

Hawthorne hoped he was using Wolven humour. “You cannot get answers from debris, Commander.”

<“Very well.”> The screen cut off and the firing continued.


Gerry knelt next to the two and tried to look them in the eye. At least one of them, anyway. She chose the boy and looked into eyes that were trembling and almost swimming in fear and put her hands on his shoulders. “Hey,” she said, “I’m Gerry, what’s your name?” She repeated the question and he shakily replied as the Militia members checked around the room. “Alright Paren,” Gerry replied. “I know all this is very scary, right?” She noted Paren nodding very slightly.

“Are you going to kill our parents,” the young Doe demanded.

“I hope not,” Gerry answered honestly. “But they may make us.” She turned back to the boy. “But you were put up here to be safe, right?” Another shaky nod. “Good.” She gently stroked his cheek with a thumb. “That’s good. You stay up here, yeah?” She paused as she noted his reaction to the touch. A flinch of fear and pain.

“It’s not safe for us if you let Mommy win,” the Doe advised, lifting the sleeve of her shirt so Gerry could see the welt underneath.


Back downstairs, with a local staying up to guard the children, Gerry fumed to the Corporal that she’d changed her mind. “Bankrolling a deadly contagion and being a species bigot in one thing but…”

“Beating their own children is another,” the Corporal agreed. “But they need to stand trial. I’m pretty sure they have to be alive for that?” The glint of a smile in the eye. “That’s what ‘heavy stun’ is for, yes?”


“I think we’re in the teleport room,” Bushey announced as he stepped into an ornate chamer, making sure the corpse he stepped over was really a corpse, even though their team had clearly blown a hole in her three inches wide.

“What gave it away,” the blood flecked Grant asked breathlessly, leaning on the teleport control panel? “This thing or the pads over there?”

“Both,” Bushey replied as the fighting began to quiet around them. They’d taken wounds and casualties but not as many as the Blackbriars. He was still planning to celebrate tonight, though, if things panned out. Not victory, he maintained, but being alive. Unless the Celican’s arrived and blasted the planet, of course. He took to examining the device. “Not been used. The antennae’s down.”

“So they’re still here.”


One was standing in front of Gerry and the Corporal right now, his hands up s they covered him, almost smiling.” Stun, remember,” the Corporal advised Gerry.

She nodded, put her gun away, walked over to the Blackbriar and punched him in the face. Hard. “He’s only stunned,” she said, catching him before he hit the ground. “And he WOULD resist.”

[Amazee Dayzee]

I think when she was told to stun him it meant NOT to possibly break his nose or knock a few teeth out. But hey, it looks like it did the trick so I guess no harm done.

[Welsh Halfwit]

42


With the Tychon now on scene, the battle twisted the way of the U.S.C. and Militia quite quickly as the cruiser added her advanced firepower to the other ships, the group of them watched as the Lapistech cruiser faltered and powered down under the attack before the group held their fire. “Signal them to take boarders,” Hawthorne told her comm officer before remembering that she was covering that position right now and doing it herself. There was no reply from the ship. “Martins, scan the ship for lifeforms.” The slender Raitchian responded in the affirmative and reported that he wasn’t picking up any signs of life.


Professor Durness and three members of her support staff headed to the suit bay and joined the medical team headed the same way. They’d meet a similarly attired team from the Thchon on the Militia ship, including one of their security teams under instruction from Hawthorne to make sure they were protected. “Hurr,” she told her team, “we’re to be extremely careful over there, heh?” Someone replied that they understood the mission was to find a virus that could wipe their people off the face of the planets and Durness assumed that was Rivers as he was the only Celican in the team. “You’re sure you want to come, heh,” she asked.

“Can’t sit on the fence all week,” he replied.

“Good male,” she replied as they got to the locker room and joined the pair that Quolla had sent. “Make double sure the suit’s sealed, heh?”

“No worries about that,” he replied sharply.


Keila allowed the Militia medic to treat her wounds and noted he wasn’t asking about the blood trails that led from halfway up the wall down to the dead criminal with the flat back of the head on the floor to one side. They were taking several prisoners as the smaller Doe applied the medical patches to the Fleman’s side, the armour having been penetrated by sharp object in two locations and by weapons fire in a third so they’d stripped the armour from that part, exposing her stomach following the pacification. The medic pressed down hard and asked if she could feel it. There was definitely something but the giant grinned as she caught her breath. “That all the push you got?”

“Are you feeling it?”

“Little bit.”

“Probably means it’s working. See someone with big needles as soon as you can, eh?” Keila almost responded but stopped and moved to push the medic behind her as a trooper appeared in the doorway and levelled their weapon, only to have the shot spiral wide as a shot hit them in the sides and spat out the other side, causing him to stagger, sag and fall forward to the floor. “Thanks,” the medic said as one of her colleagues appeared over the prone figure. “I thought we’d got ‘em all.”

“Never all done, friend. An’ we big’uns need to take care of you littl’uns, eh?”


Colin kept watch as the other medic tended to the most immediate of Waverly’s concerns, running a sealant over the wound in his side as the Lappinean jerked slightly to the touch. “It’s alright, Waverly,” he assured, “you’re safe. We’ve got you. Can you tell us anything about the person who did this to you?”

The medic sighed. “He’s not going to be telling much about anything for the foreseeable.” She pointed over to a lump of muscle on the floor behind the table. “Seems leaving him alive was only to make him suffer.”

“No,” Colin corrected, “leaving him alive was so we’d do exactly this. You don’t spend time with hostages and prisoners when you rescue them dead.”


Gerry and Grant reconnected as the wounded were being seen to at the manor. “I see the locals have taken the guilty into custody,” Grant mooted, wondering about the slight bruising on the Investigator’s fist.

“Yeah,” she replied, deciding not to mention the belting she’d delivered just yet, “Well, it’s their show. Their colony.” She sighed. “Their casualties. I don’t see Bushey, is he OK?”

“Yeah,” Grant said. “He washed some of the blood off and he’s looking after the kids. He’s good with them.” Grant looked wistful for a moment. “I’m gonna need that skill…”

“Oh, yeah,” Gerry said, cheering slightly. “I heard you got your Chauan up the duff. Good work on that one.”

“Thanks…” Grant frowned. “I think. How’d you hear?”

“Sing song last night, Grant? You and Bushey were quite loud.” She picked up an unconscious fighter and held their face to an optical scanner so it could register their details as the Corporal had told her. Once that was done she just dropped them to the floor again and moved on to the next. “This one’s related to one of the colonial cabinet,” she mentioned as she scanned a live one, who’d fought not to be scanned. “That’ll cause a few upset hairs,” she joked before the restrained Lappinean spat in her fact. “And that’s resisting arrest,” she continued, before displaying to Grant why the knuckles were bruised. He handed her a shirt he took off a dead opponent. She avoided the burn marks and bloodstains as she wiped the saliva off.


Ten of them arrived on the rogue ship from two teleport control centres operating synchronously and they stepped down together as the suit comm systems linked as Durness didn’t want to be a go-between and nor did Lieutenant Durry from the Tychon. There was a conspicuous lack of teleport operator in here, the Professor noted. Indeed, there was a lack of anyone in here at all. She found the door easily, what with the lights being on and opened it to the main passageway through the ship. “Panel,” she said, indicating a line inset into the wall. She examined it. “Hurr, it says the crew are down this wa, heh?” She listened to a voice in her helmet. “Hurr, who says I’m laughing? Keep those opinions to yourself, heh?” She led the way to where the system said the inhabitants were. Almost a main habitation area. Behind a sealed door. She accessed the panel and the guards took up position to fight as the door hissed open, letting a rolling cloud into the passage, to be analysed by Durness’ suit. “Chlorestrazine gas,” she announced sharply.

<“I saw bodies in there,”> Rivers told her. <“A lot of them.”>

Durness paused, working things out. “We need to get out of here,” she said. “Durry, you’ve been utterly pointless but get your teleport operator to get your team back, heh.”

<“Why,”> the Feline snapped angrily.

“Because this is a ship of the dead,” she replied. “I don’t think they plan to have it tell any tales!”

[Amazee Dayzee]

Tried to look up the name of the gas because I thought that it was a real gas that existed but found out it wasn't. However I do know Chlorine gas is real so I gave that a look up and if this gas is anything like it, then the deaths that happened to the inhabitants were PAINFUL and HORRIFIC as it burns the eyes and nose, causes tearing up and blurred vision, coughing, throat irritation, burning in the chest, redness of the skin, burning of the skin and blisters and that is just low to moderate exposure. But great chapter by the way.

[Welsh Halfwit]

I believe you wanted someone - or something - hit in the face...?

43


Durness led the way back out from the suit store after getting it off and led the way to the bridge to see the ship explode and it was to her surprise when she turned around and realised that no-one had followed her. She figured they must have all gone to their stations and, despite the fact she’d thought of leading them, she’d not actually told them she was leading. Any how, the ship still appeared to be there as Cheel backed the ship away. “Ah,” she grumbled, “thought it would have gone up by now, heh?”

“Don’t worry about it, Professor,” Hawthorne stated, you can’t be right all the…”

The ship exploded in front of them. One of the Militia ships spiralled into oblivion in the seconds before mass debris hammered into the Savval’s shields, Driving them to capacity and beyond as the sirens sounded and a chunk of debris the size of a room got through the energy fields and impacted the front hull close to the forward viewer, penetrating the hull.


“Put me on,” Colin stated, talking to the PA technician outside the chemical laboratory as a dozen militia faced near three dozen local Police under the artificial lights of the secret township, the pale yellow now illuminated by reflected blues and reds as they engaged in a stand off. The Militia technician nodded as Colin’s comm was linked in to the local loudhailer. He spoke. “This is Commander Colin Denver of the United Security Council.” He looked at the incredulous technician and put his hand over the comm. “Yes, that really IS my name.” He took his hand off the comm and spoke into it again. “There have been events going on that you appear to be unaware of. Events that have killed hundreds and have linked directly back to this colony and this plant here. We have had to take action alongside the Militia because we needed to ascertain quickly if there was any government involvement in the process.” He could hear general discontent and annoyed shouting now. “We have discovered nothing pointing to that,” he stated clearly. “We have discovered that a group called Backfooters have been involved in this community since the beginning, leaving a teleport relay open so they could travel unimpaired between their bases on the surface… and their factory down here, where they were making the poisons and viruses to be shipped to other worlds to eliminate the population of those worlds.”

“Liar,” someone roared. “They wouldn’t do that! The Blackbriars are benevolent! They’ve nurtured this town! Cared for us!”

“I take it you don’t work in this factory,” Colin replied. “The Militia now have the payroll for this factory. They’ll be sure to be asking questions of the people on it over the next few weeks.” He cocked his head slightly. “Anyone feel like getting ahead of the game and letting the public here know what was really going on in there?” He looked the crowd over. Slowly, a handful of Lappineans stepped forward.


Krayven looked the situation over with a cold feeling in his heart. His ship had been further away, with intact shields and stronger bulkheads. He saw the Savval take the strike straight to the hull and start to twist back helplessly. “Lock traction beams on her. Stabilize the ship. Millet,”

“Sir,” the Raitchian replied.

“Get emergency response teams and get over there. The bridge might be intact but they’ll have casualties. Broadway, tell them help is incoming.”

“I’m sending,” she replied, “but I can’t get a reply. Their system may be down.”


Eckersley picked herself up off the floor next to the wall that appeared to have too much of her blood down it. Yeah, she thought, that was definitely hers. She was going to have trouble with the wrist, she reckoned, but pain she could live with. She lurched over to her nearest console and established a damage reading for the ship as four more of her engineers picked themselves up and a maintenance crew did their best to work out who’d not rise again from the ten others in the department. “Fotherill,” she said, trying to attract the Canid’s attention. “Fotherill,” she repeated, louder. Relays are… exposed in A5. Remote access isn’t working. Get… Get to the manual controls and divert.” She shook her head to control the dizziness. It didn’t work.

“I’d rather stay here,” he replied, his voice reverberating in her head. “In case.”

“Go,” she ordered, trying to look stern. “I’d go but I think my wrist is broken. You’re the one I can see is intact. Go!” He took the hint and left as Eckersley tried to work on communications. Her head hurt. Don’t look at the dead, just keep on working. Don’t look at the dead…


Quella blinked up from the floor as loosened wiring sparked above her head from shattered lighting and a fallen conduit. The ceiling had partially collapsed and missed her but, it seemed, not the recumbent Sheriff who’d passed under the impact of half the roof and sharp force trauma. Only a bare few of her consoles were working so she picked out her portable unit and scanned for life in the people around her. Three nurses were still there. Two interns weren’t. “Impalla,” she breathed, heading to the stasis unit. If the power was totally gone… She almost signed in relief. Power was still getting to the stasis chamber. She tapped her comm. Nothing. She spoke up and almost coughed on the taste of her own blood. “This is Doctor Quella,” she said clearly. “Can anyone hear me?” She thought she heard someone so moved to pull some of the debris off where she could to uncover Doctor Velra, holding her leg in a way that didn’t show promise. Quella scanned it. “Definitely broken,” she told the Celican Vixen.

“I know, Doctor,” Velra snapped, fighting to get up anyway. “Splint it quick.” She indicated some debris. “Use that.”

“You have to be joking,” Quella protested. Nope. It didn’t look like she was joking.


Hawthorne pressed the stud on the commlink and a thin beam of light lit up a small portion of the bridge until she could find a more powerful handlight. Power was out, she reasoned, although life support was still working. Cheel told her to get the light outta her face so she knew the Raitchian was OK. The view screen wasn’t on. The consoles were dark. The rest of the bridge crew and Captain Craddock reported in as the ship shuddered. Hawthorne knew what that meant. Another ship had just arrived.

[Amazee Dayzee]

Yeah I did want someone to get smacked in the face but I was hoping it would be less violent but that doesn't work in that story. For as much as I demand Hawle be tormented with stuff in the face I don't want him to have anything broken or damaged when he gets hit in the face. LOL

[Welsh Halfwit]

44


Hawthorne stopped as she realised someone was teleporting onboard her bridge and readied for combat, just in case. She didn’t fancy she’d be much use but, as Aldair had put it, ‘prove yourself a pain in the bottom from the start and they’ll take you seriously’. It hadn’t made sense when he said it, it didn’t make sense now but she’d just had a ship hit her in the face so it didn’t matter. She relaxed when she saw a Raitchian figure appear and introduce himself as Commander Millet. “Who just arrived,” Hawthorne asked intently. There were only two possibilities as far as she could tell. The Celican fleet or the Bellaphron. “If it’s the colonials…”

Millet shook his head as his team fanned to help the other few on the bridge. “It’s the Bellaphron. Thank the stars, eh?”

Hawthorne nodded as she sagged, adrenaline leaving her frame. “You have teams through the ship?”

He nodded, “We do, Captain Plebar.”

“Then link me in on your comms. Ours are down and I want to check in with the departments. Engineering first.”


Ensign Cupa, a Cervidian male, was almost a little irritated at being used as a speaker relay system but understood the importance of the matter as, without linking the people here into the Tychon’s systems, the Captain of the vessel couldn’t talk directly to them so she asked the Human with the head wound what the situation was after explaining that Captain Plebar wanted to know. “Tell her…” Eckersley cleared her throat and failed to elbow away the squad medic as she was clearly conscious and two others weren’t but the medic insisted as others were tending to them. “Tell the captain we’ll have power to bulkhead shields in the next ten… ten minutes. Engines are… fine but we need to reroute power relays to… get the stuff where it wants to go. Wa...Wattle,” she said to a Mican as Cupa relaid the message, only to be reminded that Hawthorne could hear everything said close to the hand unit. Eckersley spoke to the Mican. “If.. if I pass out, Fotherill’s in charge. He’s…” She fought to recall. “He’s using the manual controls to bypass A5. Take one of their lot to him in case.”

“Right,” the Mican said, still holding her left wrist.

Cupa instructed one of his to follow the Mican as Eckersley turned back to her console, showing the red, sticky and blotched mess to the back of her head. “If’n you two’re going to stay around you can help me reroute power flow. If you’re going to stay stitchin’ me nut,” she told the medic, “you can confirm when this relay reads 118. You,” she instructed Cupa, “get over there and read me the status on the power fold container.”

“Why do you need him to tell you when that reaches 118?”

“Because I’m not quite seeing straight,” Eckersley retorted.

Professor Durness glared daggers at the Tychonian medic who’d treated her for the head injury she must have sustained that was affecting her speech and snapped at him that he was twenty years too late for that one, heh, and started treating Martins, who was breathing shallowly right now and she was pretty sure her pretty boy had a punctured lung and would need immediate teleport to the Tyhon’s medical centre as soon as someone higher than a medic signed off on it. Good job she was here, then. “Oj, you” she stated defiantly, glaring at Millet as she showed him the results of the scan, “get him to your medical bay, now heh?”

“And you are?”

“The one telling you not to beef consumme about and send him. NOW.”

Millet complied, despite his sour feelings, and placed a teleport tag on Martins. “Still doesn’t tell me who you are,” he said as the form fizzled out of the bridge.

“Professor Durness,” she snapped as she turned towards the exit. “Chief scientist on this ship and I’ll be in my department when you call!” She angrily pulled at debris in the hall and told it to get the *^$% out of her way!

“She’s not normally like that,” Hawthorne told Millet. “She’s blaming herself for not being able to stop that ship blowing up.”

“She could have stopped it?”

“Possibly. She’s qualified in Computer science, Biology, Chemistry…”

“That doesn’t mean…”

“...history, entomology – second class – exobiology, physics…”

“Ah.”

“...and bomb disposal. She’s also qualified to work the teleporter.”

“So she’s here because the Savval’s an actual science vessel and she can multitask?” Millet chose to double think his impression of the Mican.

“Now, if you’ll look after things here, Captain Craddock and I need to go to your ship. I have to contact the ground teams and Craddock has to tell his troops he’s alive before a counter revolution begins.”


Millet looked around at his command and narrowed his eyes. It couldn’t be… Could it? “Chayla Cheel,” he breathed poisonously.

The helm officer rolled her eyes. “You’re gonna say one of my relatives scammed your family, aren’t you?”

Millet breathed out through his nose in a long winded fashion as he tried to hold his anger in. He understood this one was trying to be different to the rest of her family. She’d run this far and was piloting a U.S.C ship but there were still rumours about the only one still free… “Several, Ensign.”

“Less than normal. You’re going to keep an eye on me?”

“Until you prove yourself.”

“I’ve proven myself many times, sir,” she replied, checking to see if the power was back to her console. “problem is, not when any of my own kind was watching.”

“You have one now, Ensign,” Millet reminded her.


Krayven welcomed Hawthorne and Craddock to the bridge of his ship and Craddock went first in using Broadways’ console to contact his ships. He smiled a little nervously at the Fennec as she fitted him out.

“Welcome to the patch, Commander,” Hawthorne stated, holding out a hand. “We need all the ships we can get out here.”

“So I see,” the Wolven said, studying this bloodied bunny that wasn’t shying away from him. “Good thing we arrived when we did,” he said, before accepting the hand. “Broadway can link you in to your teams when he’s finished. I’ll find out about your crew from the medics. It’s a good thing the Bellaphron’s here.”

Hawthorne took a breath. “How far out are they?”

“The Celicans will be here in twenty minutes.”

[Amazee Dayzee]

Probably going to take a bit of time for those wounds that were sustained to heal up. No matter whose side someone is on and whether they are good or bad they do NOT show any mercy to the other side do they? Anyway intriguing chapter.

[Welsh Halfwit]

45


The Celican fleet arrived on time and Cheel watched them from the heavily flickering main screen as she adjusted settings to try and get the best out of what Eckersley had managed to give her. She had pressure to proceed right now, what with Millet staring at her and co-ordinating repairs on what should be her ship. They had no comms but she could tell the Militia weren’t sure quite what to do now. The Tychon was one thing and the Celican forces probably thought they could beat her but the antiquated old warrior Bellaphron could take them all on with room to spare. Even if she was considered a museum piece. She could imagine Hawthorne carrying out negotiations over the comms right now, looking to tell them it was all over. “That’ll about do, Ensign,” said a voice behind her. It didn’t hold much warmth towards her but she hadn’t supposed it would have. Never mind the black sheep of Human legends, she was the obsidian Raitchian in her family. The only one of a former minor scale empire of crime who’d been, more or less, successful in trying to leave that life behind when never having been convicted of anything and his family had been conned out of their life savings by one of her cousins. She knew it was Faytan who’d done it. She knew most of the litany of criminology they’d carried out and that she was trying to make up for it. Not that she was telling anyone as she wasn’t out for plaudits for it.

She stopped fiddling. “Think that’s about as good as I can get it anyhow,” she told him and the other couple in the room that she didn’t know.

“Thank you, Ensign,” Millet replied, “for that nearly entirely pointless work. We’re hardly likely to be able to help but at least now we can see things.”

She thought of saying something but decided to put her hand up until he prompted her to speak. “Hardly likely to be able to help but able to see things is practically a clipper motto, sir. We do it anyway.”

He grunted. “Noted.”


Colin fretted. They’d taken the wounded to the local hospital in the underground township after the Militia and colonial Police agreed to watch over the surgeries. The Doctors were a little incensed over this as they were healers, not harmers but the hospital controller had accepted that the Council and the state had no reason to trust the word of noted isolationists who might have had plans to wage war on every other species. They’d taken Harlow as one of the first as they’d not seen a Human before and they were pretty sure they knew how to repair a shoulderblade. At least, that was according to the paramedics and he was pretty sure they were kidding. Gallows humour and all that. Waverly had gone too. He’d rather Quella had been able to beam him up to work on the Lappinean but the ship was down and he couldn’t do anything about that either. SO now he was helping clean up here. Keila was running interference with her friendly Medic, stopping anyone going into that laboratory – or storage area – without a full suit and no-one was looking to argue with a Fleman right now. So Colin was working on the computers down here, working his way through traps and firewalls like he’d been trained to do. It seemed the controller here hadn’t been as stringent as the controllers elsewhere about nuking their systems burn before legging it and he’d gotten through half a dozen obstacles and found documents incriminating half a dozen senior business Lappineans across the patch and the central worlds with collusion and outright support for this. They’d fight, of course. He had no doubt about that, but their companies would suffer. He backed it all up to his commdrive and had the device itself secured. “Bear in mind,” he told the Militia Officer , “that I just copied the entire hard drive so I know what’s in those files and we’ll be sending them to central as soon as we can, right?”

The Militia member nodded and Colin left the room. Then, quietly, he pocketed his comm after turning it off. He attached Waverly’s hand unit and tapped his command override in to make it his. Just in case. He was surrounded by people who reported to the government of the colony and there was absolutely nothing that pointed to the Government of the colony having any hand in this. A paranoid might say too much nothing. Good job, he thought to himself, that he wasn’t paranoid. Or was he?


Hawthorne looked on the screen to the relayed image of Captain Zayle of the Celican fleet as he took in what she’d just told him about the action going on on the surface, below the surface and, apparently, above the surface of the planet. He couldn’t know the truth of below, of course, but his scanners could show signs of combat around a large manor house near the capital and his eyes could tell him there had been combat in space, what with the still expanding debris field and the piece sticking out of the Savval providing absolute proof . Plus he was pretty sure he was outgunned, even if the big ship was obsolete and, now that the threat had, according to the Council, been dealt with, they would be obligated to defend Lappinea IV so he had a choice to make. <“You can substantiate all this,”> he asked gruffly, hovering on the edge of belief.

“We are finishing up the actions now,” Hawthorne told him. “The paperwork will be copied in to you when that’s done.” She stood, hands behind her back, showing she wasn’t afraid of this predator.

<“Then we will remain in orbit until it is done.”>

Before Hawthorns could object, Craddock spoke from the back of the bridge. “That’s fine, Zayle,” he said, holding on to a railing. “You can assist us in keeping ships from leaving until they’ve been checked out.”

Zayle broke into a cold smile. <“Colton Craddock. Good to see you again. Gives these two added legitimacy,”> he added, rotating a wrist to indicate Krayven and Hawthorne. <“Always better to deal with the locals.”> He gave a shark’s smile. <“I’ll be happy to assist in this.”>

“I’ll bet.” The line closed.

“Right,” Krayven said, “now that that’s dealt with, time for you to get to the medical bay, Lieutenant Commander.”

“I… what,” she asked, following his pointing finger down to where she was, apparently, drizzling a thin line of blood down her left leg. “I hadn’t even noticed.”

“They’re often the worst,” he remarked, designating an officer to get her down there as she wouldn’t know the way.


Over on the Savval, Durness and a maintenance worker worked together to crowbar open the door to the teleport station. They strained and both were relieved when Piebauld stuck her hands in the gap to help rescue herself.

[Amazee Dayzee]

Lets just hope that the doors they just got open don't slam on her hand and crush it. Not only would that make things 10 times worse for her but she is now more injured and it is more critical to rescue her.

[Welsh Halfwit]

46


With the help of the other ships, Eckersley and her crews removed the last piece of debris from the front of the ship and released it into space before the team from the Bellaphron applied a patch seal over it to restore the hull to at least minimum operating capability. The Celicans had proven their worth in assisting the locals they’d been dispatched to attack whilst not being allowed to operate on their own as Lappinean Police and ground pounders worked to clear things up on the ground. A number of locals were being prosecuted for their crimes and Jenas Blackbriar was being assigned to the Council prison on Cana as the ringleader to serve two decades before chance of parole. His Children were to go to their maternal aunt as they were no longer safe on Lappinia IV. The underground community had learned that Council members would be working in the labs to catalogue and contain the chemicals there. The council members wouldn’t come out of the base unless invited, save to provide updates on the situation. The colony would be kept something of an open secret, with a Colonial representative on the council to represent their interests.


“There’s something I still want to know,” Hawthorne asked the Celican admiral as they sat opposite each other in the meeting room of the Tychon, Commander Krayven and Gerry to either side of her as Zayle sat with his aides opposite her with Craddock attending on screen as he was directing the forces on the ground.

“What’s that, Commander,” Zayle snarked, accentuating every word so as to show off his teeth.

“Who told you Lappinia IV was the source of the contagion?”

“Why should I tell you?”

“Why shouldn’t you,” Gerry queried, before looking at Hawthorne. “ I mean, it’s actually rather obvious who it was. They’re not going to spring into action because some newsvid hack tol them about it. It had to be a member of government. Someone they’d trust.” She sighed. “Baxenby. It had to have been him. Celicans and Lappineans at war…”

“Why would he do that,” Krayven asked, wondering who this person they were talking about was.

“He’s speciesist,” Hawthorne mentioned.

“And smart. Haldana’s the closest colony to both of these. He’d probably try to get themselves involved in any peace plan and trade deals often go better with those recovering from war. He’s probably angling for power.”

“Of course,” Zayle mentioned, “I’m not confirming any of this… supposition. I understand the Council is taking some of the most guilty?”

Krayven nodded. “It’s easier to black out coverage of this travesty this way. Easier to deny them justice because we need to hide facts.”

“Like it being a bioengineered plague?” Zayle huffed. “Well, we’re going to need to have compensation for the thirty victims on Gravidia, Craddock.”

<“Agreed,”> Craddock stated, <“but we should let the politicians sort that out. We fight the wars, let them command the peace. And neither of us hold it against Haldana for what Baxenby did to take advantage.”>

“Although we might want to move him out of power,” Gerry mooted, before shaking her head and saying to forget she’d spoken.


“So,” Martins said, sitting up in bed following the successful rib surgery, “you’re going back to Haldana? Your wife and Daughter?”

Bushey propped himself up on an elbow and wondered if it was just the recent explosive decompression that had things a little chilly in here. “Yeah,” he replied, almost dreamily. “I need them and they me.”

Martins sat on the edge of his bed as he pulled his foot protectors on. “You going to tell them about me,” he asked.

“Of course.” Bushey replied, pulling himself upright to sit alongside Martins. “Raitchians don’t have the same sort of hang ups as Humans when it comes to this sort of thing. Besides,” he added, kissing Martin’s cheek, “she’s an ex, right?”

The scientist laughed and continued dressing for work.


Emre escorted Flass around his office, now he was back on duty and trying to control the situation at hand. All that had been released to the press was the fact that the Blackbriars had been preparing an insurrection against the government and they’d failed, leading to the assault on their compound, where advanced weaponry had been found and secured. Provided contagion samples were considered advanced weaponry it was, actually, true. He was one of the people assigned to arraign the lesser involved for their crimes and Flass noted he’d kept a father and son out of the files. “He was a backfooter decades ago,” Flass mooted. “And neither of them could stop what was going on. The town’s going to need them – and others like them – to rebuild.”

“Such as,” Flass grinned, pushing a padd towards him, “a new Police Chief?”

“Yeah,” Emre stated, “He wasn’t corrupt but never set a paw to trying to stop it. Can’t have a chief who stands aside. Figured I’d throw my hat in, so to speak. You headed back up to your ship?”

“Well, I had two nights off, didn’t I? Now things are working again, and we’re due to leave, I better go see if I can get some sleep.”

“Light weight.”


Colin Denver returned to the bridge of the Savval and found Cheyla working on her console. “Cheyla, I relieve you of command,” he said rhetorically, as she’d never fight him for it anyway.

“Oh,” she said sarcastically, “I AM relieved. How’s your lot now?”

“Waverly’s stable in the Tychon’s medical bay. They’ll work to reattach his tongue later today.” He took Hawthorne’s chair and almost smiled after it squeaked at him. “Others are to be… repatriated. Impella’s in stasis and things are under control. A hard few days.”

Cheyla glanced around at him as she told him that Eckersley said they could go to velocity 2.5 without straining the framework. His ears were drooped, he was practically slumped and withdrawn. She sighed. “I’m gonna do something now that I don’t do for any old pain in the rear officer, Commander.” She stood up, walked over to him and pulled him up into a hug. “We got the worst of days,” she said, feeling his tears where no-one else could see them, “simply to remind us the best’ve days exist.” After a moment, she released him and headed back to her station. “Tell yer sister that next time ya stop in, yeah?”

[Amazee Dayzee]

It is always nice to see people comforting each other after something traumatic has happened as it shows that they do care about the well-being of those that they work with. I am really happy that Cheyla didn't shy away from a big hug.

[Welsh Halfwit]

47


Three days passed until the Savval returned to Haldana at velocity two and Hawthorne took a moment to herself after helping with the clean up and taking command for the times Colin took to helping the cyber squads reconstruct and realign enough of the system database to ensure safe travel and limited uploads seeing as how the piece of Lappinean ship had gone through one of the main system memory banks. A repair depot could do it in a day or so but they didn’t happen to have one of those at hand and they’d been lucky the Bellaphron had been there for the repairs they’d had to do. The old explorer ships had been equipped with a refabricator machine, where you fed in the raw materials at the one end as ‘fuel’ and it comes out as needed products. So they’d actually been patched up with some pieces of the Lappinean cruisers hull, after it had been thoroughly cleansed. The Bellaphron was also being used to transport the thirty or so Lappineans the colony could expel as they had links elsewhere and the Bellaphron, being a long range explorer class ship, had hundreds of guardable rooms going spare. So they’d gone on their way. They had people to drop off and, finally, Eckersley and Colin had managed to get long range communications back online so Hawthorne had just been on with Command – or, rather, Lieutenant Rider. The Feline had taken the report over static, just like she’d taken the reports from the other ships involved and she’d pass the reports on to Postain immediately as he was on his way… And it was at that point they’d lost communication. She’d call back shortly. But first Doctor Quella wanted a word.


“It’s almost beyond belief,” Quella said, looking over the prone figure of Impella as the Raitchian lay on the bed in the sparking isolation room. “Everything says she should have been dead on impact on Lappinia IV but she’s not.”

“I can see that, Doctor,” Hawthorne remarked. “Why?”

Quella thrust her hands up in the air. “The honest truth is I cannot explain it. Oh the medical treatment certainly saved her life but what sustained it..? From what I’ve been able to see before our databanks got massacred, something has been done to her on the genetic level. Something that didn’t show up on any scans because they…” She sighed.

“Because they what?”

“You ever read Superhero titles when you were a leveret?”

Hawthorne almost goggled. “You’re serious? You think someone experimented on our Ensign so she could survive something like that? Why? It’s not like..?”

Quella nodded and moved some of the tools she’d been using in lieu of the offline digital scalpels. “Perhaps it didn’t work? Perhaps the fact it still needs people like me to repair the bones made it totally pointless? Point is the body is healing itself as best it can and the best it can do is… superheroically above the norm. The impact probably killed her, Hawthorne. And she’ll wake up in days!”

Hawthorne ran checks on her background. She’d been transferred over from the Core worlds a year ago but, before joining the U.S.C. Kexis, she’d worked with Raicarra as a researcher and had left under her own volition, it seemed. The documents as to why she’d left were missing, either never having been there or damaged, Hawthorne didn’t know which. It was something she’d have to look into but, for now, it was something of a blessing. Ten dead in her crew meant she needed to celebrate survival. But she’d be looking into it…


A day more and Sonia opened the door to her home on Haldana and grinned after sniffing the familiar scent of her betrothed. Working with Witherington Industries in a seated position had made it easier to carry her growing load and pay for the manipulations that ensured it would survive but she hadn’t been thinking of doing it alone so her mate being back and, apparently, having showered, had her tail wagging as she reasoned that he seemed to be cooking for her. “Roasted Curacan, Edward,” she asked, shucking her shoulder bag onto the sofa and removing her jacket and shoes to flex her Chauan toeclaws before she tapped into the kitchen where her Human was waiting for her. Leaving the vegetables cooking, he swept her up into his arms and applied lips to lips for what seemed like forever as he put one hand under her tail to make sure she didn’t fall. She pulled back and licked her muzzle. “Missed me, yeah?”

“Like you’d never believe,” Grant replied, before lifting her up so he could kiss her womb through her shirt.

“The Corical’s gonna burn,” she warned, bringing his attention back to the cooking.


Professor Durness stood over her protegee and regarded him coolly. “Hurr, did he give you what you wanted,” she asked. “Officer Bushey, I mean?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Mrtins said innocently.

“Pfft,” she scoffed, “you think I don’t know you’ve been looking into all male fertilization? Still requires two to do it, heh?”

“My lips are sealed.”


Hawthorne was just a little surprised, when she stepped off the shuttle, to find Postain in the dust of the Human’s Health centre with his security, stating that, as the first test on his watch, he needed to come and assess the situation and how the Council could help the colony recover. They’d agreed arranged loans and refinancing deals and Hawthorne had the feeling that the Finance Raitchian Postain had brought with him had dealt with most of this and Sarah Chapston, on loan from the Loper due to maternity leave, was here because she was Human and an example of how multi-cultural the Council was. Hawthorne wondered what they’d think of Polva, her Russellian mate and their long head furred crossbreed son Tomal. Gerry had decided to transfer to the IOC as she couldn’t stand to deal with a certain Government official any more. Bushey had just claimed combat pay bonus and transferred back home.


The Jenner was still in orbit and Quella had liaised with the medics there before heading down to the world. They’d finished up their inoculation work on the colony and taken details of the ‘medical marvel’ she’d reported. But she had something else to do and she was doing it not, pulling up in a rented vehicle with a few items and toys in her hands as she stepped up to the door of the ramshackle house and knocked. She could hear sounds from within, telling Whistler to get back in the living room before Suenna opened up the door and froze for several seconds before her tail began to wag rhythmically. A broad smile broke across her face and her eyes moved from stressed to delighted. “Doctor Quella,” she called, before enveloping the Quokkan in a hug that almost had her dropping the goods she’d brought so she could return the embrace. She held her even as the vixen cried and slowly became aware of being held by a trio of cubs as well. Now it wasn’t just the vixen tearing up before they moved inside with the foods Quella had brought to cook.


And Hawthorne called Dale.

END

Investigator Gerry (and Keila) will return. In the next story.

[Amazee Dayzee]

I really enjoyed this story and thought that it came out really nice here Welshy! Now that you are done, can we focus more on our story please? I go away in a month on a plane and due to the safety issues that they have been having over here its highly possible I will die in a plane crash.