U.S.C. SAVVAL - The path of the ooze.

[Welsh Halfwit]

The simple reason for this is that I had the finale on Lappara. And what did Hawthorne and the Savval do? Pretty much nothing. They've shown a few things over the story but they need to show what they can do ALONE.

[Amazee Dayzee]

I will be looking forward to seeing what they can do alone then. Great work regardless with what you have posted for the story!

[Harry Johnathan]

“Either those are veggi-balls,” he said, almost laughing as he held the girl and spoke into her ear as Kellan took his finger away from the emergency button on his comm, “or you just ate a piece of meat.”

Oof, haha.

[Welsh Halfwit]

“Either those are veggi-balls,” he said, almost laughing as he held the girl and spoke into her ear as Kellan took his finger away from the emergency button on his comm, “or you just ate a piece of meat.”

Oof, haha.

Well, Pure Lappineans can't eat meat. But, if there's some alien DNA in their make up, even from generations back, they can. Straw was wondering about that when he was introduced. Seemed right for him to know the answer on leaving the tale.

FOURTY-SIX

Cheel wasn’t happy. She’d had to teleport back up to the ship early and take her post at the run almost as Hawthorne consulted with the old Mican in charge on the screen. She waswondering what the hurry was but slotted into her position across from Colin and started pressing buttons to reset whatever her shift replacement had done to her console and she suddenly wondered why people were looking at her. “Good evening, Lieutenant Commander,” Hawthorne said playfully and Cheyla looked down at herself and screamed mentally. She was wearing Mitchumma’s shirt. She asked permission to change but Hawthorne said there probably wasn’t going to be time. It wasn’t quite what Cheel wanted to hear right now as the Captain and Postlethwaite continued to talk. He was asking if she trusted her source.

“It’s not so much my source but where my source got it,” Hawthorne replied. “I don’t trust him as far as I can throw this planet but I can’t doubt some of his information.”

<“It’s trouble alright,”> Postlethwaite replied. <“The Bowlwick is the ship assigned and that’s normal. What isn’t is that I can confirm Admiral Poldwick is the name on the order. He’s not the Admiral who assigns ships in that sector. More to that,”> Henry said, putting his hands in front of his mouth for a second, <“I know of him. A second rate Admiral with a persecution complex put out to a non-important region of space where he’s not likely to mess things up. It’s not turning out that well. IOC Micanna has reported an upswing in fundamentalists out there. They’ve been putting them down but they’ve been reporting obstructionist behaviour by ‘someone high up’.”>

“And, with the fundamentalists we’ve met out here…” Denver put in.

Postlethwaite nodded. <“Not all of their groups hate each other. I know the base commander at Raicaster. He’s a good type. Loyal to the Council. Get the chemicals to them. Take any route necessary but avoid the Bowlwick. And be careful.”>

“Why,” Hawthorne asked, thinking she wouldn’t like the answer.

<“The Bowlwick isn’t the only ship Poldwick’s reassigned recently. There’s two other Frigates he’s reassigned recently, the Kalla and the Stoktina. They’ve all got senior officers assigned by him.”>

“So now it’s not Raitchians and Micans out to get us,” Cheel spat, “it’s US?” She wiped the spittle off the terminal with her… with Mitchumma’s sleeve.

<“A dark reflection of us, Cheyla,”> Postlethwaite stated, <“who’ve now made a move exposing them. I can now set a few things in motion but they have a headstart, they know where you are and where you’re going.”>

“Charting a new course now, boss,” Cheel remarked, tapping away at her terminal. Her ears pricked up. “Uh, I mean bosses.”

“Forgiven, Cheel,” Hawthorne told her. “Don’t clear us for departure. We’re going as soon as our people are back aboard.”

<“You have people on planet,”> Postlethwaite asked.

“The danger was over,” Hawthorne protested, raising her hands in emphasis. “We had a few days to wait so 24 hour passes seemed an idea.”

<“Yes, well,”> the old Mican replied, <“hindsight is twenty-twenty.”>

“Can you send me all the details for the ships involved,” Hawthorne asked. “Just so I can know what I need...”


Engineer Eckersley arrived back in the teleport booth with a suitcase and a stuffed Lappinean toy that raised questions in Ensign Piebauld’s mind and, apparently, her eye. Eckersley noted it and what it was aimed at. “It’s for my daughter,” he told her, referring to the girl on Pandera that she knew he’d seen about seven times in the last year. “I was going for the Raitchian but…”

“Don’t need to tell me, Ecks,” Piebauld replied. “Shift it, yeah? More coming up.”

The Human took the hint and headed back to his department, finding himself walking next to Durness, who looked him up and down. “Hurr, been to the Kellas Funfair, heh,” the Mican said as Eckersley stopped at his room to drop the toy and case off.

“Yeah, I was going for the Raitchian,” he explained again. “Didn’t get enough points.”

The Mican chuckled. “Yeah, the Raitchian turned out popular, heh.” She leaned in close although he had to bend down to hear her aside. “That’s why they swapped the two around. Hurr, for Shula, yeah?”

“Yes,” Eckersley replied, a little surprised Durness knew the girls’s name.

“Hurr, I’ve got one of the Raitchians. From before they swapped them around. I’ll trade you if we live through this.”

“Thanks, Prof.”

“Hugs are permitted,” she advised so he took her up on the offer. “Put me down, heh,” she protested. He returned her to the floor and headed to his department.


“OK,” he called as he stepped in on the five duty engineers, “let’s hustle! We’re doing the pre-launch checks and, for whatever reason, we’re doing it allegro so let’s skip the spinning wheels and shift! Pattersby, you take the drive valves, Moragan, the flow regulators. Dauby,..” he added to the Chipmunk. He paused and smiled.

Dauby sagged and cringed. “I’llcheck theventsare clear,” he replied, zipping off to start work as only a Chipmunk could.

“Good man… er, munk. Tibury, you’re with me, checking the engines. Malwich, you’re the floater. Anyone calls for engineering assist, you’re it. When the other three get here, I’ll assign them to whoever needs the help. Except Dauby as he’s the only one can fit in there properly.”

He started operations, checking the engines.

Hawthorne listened to the beeping indicating an incoming comm as Cheel worked on easing them away from the Lappinean fleet as carefully as she could. The beeping was sort of rhythmic and soothing and was probably going to cause trouble as soon as she answered it but, as she was both Captain and comms officer, she was pretty sure she’d have to answer it soon. “Keep us going, Cheyla,” she advised, before tapping the switch to receive the communication. “U.S.C. Savval here, sorry to keep you,” she said, totally not meaning it, “how can we assist?”

<“This is Lappara control,”. Said a voice whose tone indicated that he didn’t believe her either. <“Why have you departed from your assigned slot without authorisation from this authority? Return to your slot immediately.”>

She sighed. “Can’t do that, Lappara control. We’ve received information we have to act upon now. A ship is in danger if we don’t and we’re the only ship can be permitted to intercede on their behalf.” She made a rolling hands motion to Cheel who understood as Denver, off to the side where she could see him and not behind like Hawthorne was, replicated the motion. “It really is a priority, Lappara control,” Hawthorne continued, not letting control get a word in edgewise, “that’s a scientific conundrum that only we can deal with and…”

Cheel gave a thumbs up as control came back. <“We have no reports of a ship in distress. Can you identify it?”>

“Yep. U.S.C. 17934. The Savval. See you later, control.” She closed the link. “Cheyla, get us out of here!”

Cheyla complied with a ‘Hitting it, boss!’

[Amazee Dayzee]

Really good work on this chapter! I hope there are o long-term effects of a Lappinean accidentally eating meat since they can't. That would be bad.

[Welsh Halfwit]

Really good work on this chapter! I hope there are o long-term effects of a Lappinean accidentally eating meat since they can't. That would be bad.

No repercussions. It just answered a question Straw had about his family history. There has to be some alien genetic material in either his history or his wifes. So he's taking it as his side.

[Amazee Dayzee]

Ah. OK. Right then. I understand that much better. Thank you.

[Harry Johnathan]

I love how you depict diplomatic eelations between the different alien races getting strained and even affecting personal relationships. It makes the world feel very real.

[Welsh Halfwit]

I love how you depict diplomatic eelations between the different alien races getting strained and even affecting personal relationships. It makes the world feel very real.

Well, I always feel the Universe will go more 'Babylon5' than 'Star Trek' All the races can deal with each other but they have their own interests too.

FOURTY-SEVEN

Hawthorne leaned on her armrest, recumbent in her chair now after having spent the last half an hour at the dedicated communications station, adjusting things and making sure no signals were being broadcast. She’d had a little idea about half an hour ago and had set Eckersley and Durness to the task of fitting three of their probes with copies of the Savval’s transponders. Each of those were going to be fired off at top velocity from various points along the flightpath. They’d all head directly for the Raicasta station, broadcasting ‘Hey, I’m the Savval, come shoot me’ signals all over the place to distract and, hopefully, divert the three ships they were trying to avoid. Not, apparently, that they wanted to attract the attention of any ship. This was why they were flying with their transponder off, not sending out the usual signals to tell everyone where they were. But now she had to… “How long to Raicasta, oh noble chauffeur,” she asked Cheel, who’d clearly been anticipating the question for at least the last minute.

“About thirty-six hours and twenty-seven minutes, Cap’n,” the Raitchian replied, still wearing Mitchumma’s shirt.

“Not bad for a twenty hour direct flight,” Denver challenged.

“Twenty hours straight flight, Colin,” the pilot retorted. “I, however, am zigging past nebulas, zagging past meteor swarms, delving under cosmic cascades and I’ve even got us doing corkscrews around the planets in the Agimmilar system.”

Denver put his hand on his chin as he chuckled. “Why a corkscrew?”

“Two reasons,” Cheyla commented back. “Asteroids. Several swarms of them around the place.”

“And reason two?”

“What’s the point of a flying display without a corkscrew?”

Hawthorne wondered who she thought was going to see it.


“So much for getting off,” Hadrian Jax sighed, not even being able to contact his wife as long as the blackout remained in place.

“You stealing my line,” Flass asked, looking spectacular in the bright, flowery, shirt she’d been wearing down on the planet as she toured the early evening clubs for a *ahem* friend. The light blue trousers and shoes that lit up when she walked were current fashion in the Mican clubs last she’d heard. Or so she’d claimed. Hadrian had known that fad went out two years back. But it was probably in somewhere. Earth, maybe. They were usually two years behind the universe. “I was five minutes away from getting a Feline take me back to their room when the comm goes off,” Flass complained. “Hear you did your job too?”

“Yeah,” Jak said with a hint of regret. “Three hard up types. Two medics and an engineer.”

Flass looked at him evenly. “The Engineer I’ll give you,” she admitted, “but those interns are on our wage scale, Hadrian. They’re actually paid MORE but it’s garnished to pay off the schools. How’d you think the USC gets so many sign ups for a ship patrolling the patch that gets shot at by pirates and…” She fell silent.

“Yeah,” Hadrian said sadly. “The civil war of thirty years back was the last time one Council ship fired on another in anger. Now we’re one bad decision away from breaking that winning streak.”

She looked up at him, worry in her eye. “You reckon we’ll avoid it?”

Hadrian sat down. “How devious is your Captain,” he asked.

“As devious as any computer programmer could be in a potential combat situation. I’d prefer a proper Command Officer,” she admitted.

“In a ship like this,” Hadrian reminded her, “a seasoned Combat Officer might well be a complete catastrophe. Always out gunned by anything that isn’t a lightweight Pirate. Often out numbered. Usually smaller than your opponent. Going head on is a walk to extinction. So long as she knows that,” he added with a sly grin.

“Let’s hope.”


“The worst thing about this,” Eckersley said to Durness as he operated on a probe in the launch room, “is stabilizing things so they don’t immediately drop to normal space velocities the moment we launch them. They’ve got to be… able to maintain velocity speed for a while or… they won’t be believed.”

“Hurr, shut up or I’ll get the programming wrong, heh,” Durness retaliated.

“If we survive this,” Eckersley asked, “you want to grab food at a restaurant sometime?”

She paused and looked over at him. “You’re Mated,” she declared.

“Married,” he corrected. “And not now the separation's come through.”

“You call it that, heh,” the Scientist declared, finishing the adjustments before him. “Matin’s for life. Hurr, you have a daughter.”

“That hurring you do is annoying,” he pointed out.

“I know,” she replied., grinning as she revealed a secret “Means people only talk to me when hey need to, hah?”

“Shouldn’t that be ‘heh’?”

“Not this time.” She closed up the panel. “This ‘un’s ready.” She looked over at the dozens of other science probes. “Hurr, just them to go now, heh?”

“Be done in no time,” he replied, loading the one they’d just altered into the tube for firing. He tapped the wall panel. “Launch control to bridge,” he reported, “Distraction one’s ready for launch. It should alter course at velocity one after going ahead at two for fifteen minutes.”

<“Acknowledged, Launch bay. We’ll be firing in...”> Eckersley and Durness heard Cheel’s voice but not quite what she said. <“ten minutes. We’ll give you a one minute warning. Get those others ready, would you?”> The line cut.

“Would it kill her to say ‘well done’,” Eckersley complained.

Durness quirked an eyeridge. “For doing your job, heh? At least she only wants three of these adapted by hand. The rest will be linked up to the computer for a download, she says.”

“I wonder what she has in mind?”


Hours passed. Hawthorne prepared. Denver and Cheel had been given time off to sleep, Cheel only taking four hours when she knew the ship was only flying in a straight line for five. Denver had relieved her and she’d pretty much passed out in her uniform as soon as she’d sat on her bed and dreamed of her mate and frolicking in…

<“Captain to the bridge,”> Denver’s voice came through loud and clear, using the emergency speaker in her room as though he didn’t know where she was. She sat bolt upright and almost launched to her feet, getting the boots caught in the bedsheet. She scowled and twisted her foot free before leaving her room and hot footing it past crew who obviously had no idea they were probably in peril. So he had isolated her room. Good.


“What is it,” she declared as she entered her place of power.

“We’re picking up a ship on the long range scanners,” Denver told her. “It’s the U.S.C. Kalla.”

[Amazee Dayzee]

Looks like things might be a bit more complicated than everybody anticipated! Hope that they will figure out a way to deal with all of it!

[Harry Johnathan]

The fad went out two years back. But it was probably in somewhere. Earth, maybe. They were usually two years behind the universe.

Absolutely savage.

[Welsh Halfwit]

There's at least one line in this made me guilty laugh as I wrote it...

FOURTY-EIGHT

“Has she seen us,” Hawthorne asked, watching the dot on the screen that indicated the location of the U.S.C. Kalla some thirty million kilometres ahead of them. It was outside visual range right now and Hawthorne wasn’t that keen to get too much closer. “And how do we know,” she wondered, rhetorically this time, “that they’re not playing the same trick we are with transponders?”

Cheel turned to face her, feeling the helm didn’t need her attention right now, considering they were at all stop. “T’be honest, Cap’n,” she remarked, “we can’t. We’re not exactly broadcasting ourselves so they’ve probably not picked us up. They’re there because they guessed lucky is all. When they have our start point and our end point, there’s only so many places they need to cover. Can’t cover all of them so they use estimates, based on…”

“...based on the fact the Bowlwick is tracking our trail from Lappara and continuously advising the other two,” Hawthorne cut in, showing that she had a knowledge of tactics that made Cheel cringe slightly. “So we can’t stay here or the opposition – if they are opposition – will drop right in on our heads. Is there a way around?”

“It’d add thirty hours to our travel and there’s no guarantee we wouldn’t run into the Stoktina on the way.”

Hawthorne sat back. “And we don’t even know if they’re hostile for sure,” she put her hand to her chin. “Time we found out. Cheyla, set a course to take us past her, as close as possible. Denver, you’ll need to manage defences.”

“And weapons,” her first asked.

“If needed,” she agreed. “I’ll handle offence,” she added cryptically, moving over to the communications station to get to work.


“So, what am I supposed to be doing here,” ‘Specialist’ Greedan asked Doctor Quolla, his unnaturally shaped ears twitching in the air as the new hybrid remembered to look down at her. He wasn’t used to being taller than people and was thankful that the ooze… gel… whatever, always seemed to leave people’s legs the same length as each other. Balancing was quite hard enough, right now, as it was. He’d been walking close to the walls so he could hold on to them and his boots felt strange. Not as strange as the ankle tag, of course.

“Education,” Quella returned, “giving knowledge away. That sort of thing.” She gestured to a science station in the over sized medical centre where she’d pulled up the files on the gel and blank word processing screen. “You know more about this stuff than anyone else we’ve met.” She continued as he seemed about to interrupt. “Everything we get from MutaraCorp now has to be cleared by courts. It’ll take time. Whatever you can tell us will give us a leg up whilst the applications are underway. Call it paying penance.” She turned away from him and he could still see the disgust in her face in his mind. “Get on with it,” she added. He grunted absently and sat at the station, adjusting the chair inexpertly as his now furred tail got trapped in the back of the chair. He yelped slightly as several strands were pulled out and Quokka caught them in a small bowl. “Better safe than sorry,” she told him.

“I’m out of the ‘infectious’ stage now,” he told her. Everything’s melded… for better or worse… so the gel dies.”

“See,” Quella remarked, pointing a silicone rod at him, “we didn’t know that. You have loads of information. Write it down,” she ordered. “Might help your sentence. And stay away from my interns!”

He hadn’t even considered that. He might be a horrifying mongrel now, he told himself, but he was a sexy horrifying mongrel. He preened slightly, looking down at himself. If his chosen mate was in the past there might be a new one in the future. After penance. Or, possibly, before it passed.


“Got it running,” Hawthorne reported, more or less to herself, as she took up her seat again.

“Am I entitled to ask what, skipper,” Denver asked in that melodious way of his that struck of curiosity wrapped in casualness. He hadn’t turned from his station, she noted. Good.

“Of course. One of the things I’ve just been up to on the comms station is setting our transponder to act like it’s the U.S.C. MacCrimmon. The readings were still in the logs from where they escorted us through Raitchian space. I also adjusted the power output so we look more like a frigate.”

“That ain’t going to pass when in visual range, Skip,” Cheel advised.

“It’ll get us closer though,” Hawthorne replied, watching the ship come closer on the screen. Her heart was beating hard, she reckoned. Then her brow furrowed. It really wasn’t beating hard. It was quite calm this time, Oh, she was still concerned, of course, but she was in control, not terrified of any action she might have to make. She didn’t know if that was because she was alone out here, with no recourse to turn to others for help, or because she was pretty sure she had a plan in mind? She licked her lips. There was no point second guessing herself now.


Hayley was tense. There was nothing much she could do to defend the ship now, it was out of the Agents’ hands now. So she was a bit surprised when Minika knocked on her door. “What’s up,” Minika,” she asked.

“Well,” the Lappinean replied, holding up a small weapon that Hayley wasn’t sure about, “I was thinking of joining Mr Jak in defending the container. You?”

Hayley, who’d entertained the idea Minika was going to shoot her for barely a second, nodded to the weapon. “What is that,” she asked.

“Extremely illegal and hideable, What,” she shrugged. “My Uncle’s one of the most dangerous lunatics in known space. Of COURSE I had hidden weapons in my stuff. You’ll need your own, of course…”


Visual range. A quarter of a million kilometres. The grey shape sat there, like a spide waiting to bite, as the Savval flew closer. Hawthorne could see they were hailing and she hoped her work was up to it as she put ‘audio only’ on. “MacCrimmon here,” Cheel said, hoping she had the voice somewhere near right. She’d learned it from the vidcording of one of the meetings they’d had after the MacCrimmon had hit the mine but the Captain hadn’t said much. “What seems to be the problem?”

<“Why are you on audio only,”> the suspicious voice responded.

“Engineering works on the comm system,” Cheel improvised. “We’re supposed to be on our own out here. How come you’re out here?”

<“Looking for a rogue ship,”> the unseen Captain replied. <“She’s a threat to all of us if allowed to continue. Have you seen her? The U.S.C. Savval. I can’t tell you why but this is a priority gold mission.”>

“I’d heard she was on Lappara a few days ago,” Cheel said, feeling her throat begin to burn in keeping up the impression. “We’ll keep an eye out. Thank you.” Hawthorne hung up and Cheel coughed until Denver handed her a glass of water.

“Lucky you’re a mimic,” Hawthorne commented as Cheel quaffed the water and handed the glass back.

“Lucky he was neutered,” she joked.

“It won’t matter in a few minutes,” Denver commented. “They’ll be able to make us out clearly soon enough.”

Hawthorne put her hands under her chin. “Bring us in practically directly under her, Cheyla,” she told her. “Best speed...”

[Amazee Dayzee]

Oh don't worry about that! I laugh when I write replies down in RPing with people and they are cruel. But they aren't even guilty laughs! Great chapter thought.

[Harry Johnathan]

The Wacky Misadventures of the Hybrids.

[Welsh Halfwit]

The Wacky Misadventures of the Hybrids.

Well, he does know more than most. And he is now part Celican so he's pretty sure he's sexy.

[Amazee Dayzee]

Someone being sexy to another person all depends on their preference honestly. For example, I know a certain Pekan who loves it when her commander Lappinean boyfriend gets filthy in his uniform. ;D

[Welsh Halfwit]

FOURTY-NINE

They had about thirty seconds, Hawthorne reckoned, until they were close enough for the opposition to see she wasn’t the MacCrimmon and power up their weapons. She had her finger on the button to raise the shields as soon as they were discovered and targeted. They’d need them up to prevent beam ins for one thing. She didn’t imagine Hadrian Jak or Flass wanted any company right at this moment. She was also regretting not taking some of Grovan’s people on board as the Canid wasn’t going anywhere right now. But she hadn’t so there was no point complaining about it. She just had to hope that Eckersley had been keeping up his usual high scores on maintenance and repairs. Twenty seconds.


She ran a quick analysis on the targetting system to stop herself getting too anxious about the imminent engagement. She knew Denver would have done it, and certainly done it well before now, but it was something to do in the time and she might spot something he’d missed. She looked up as the ship was getting closer. It was stationary, she realised, knowing it was in a bottleneck. It almost looked like they were going to hit it but she trusted Cheel’s skill to miss it. Besides, Cheel had just become rich, Hawthorne didn’t think she’d want to die now. She wondered if the commander of the Kalla was wondering why this ship was coming straight at them. She wondered why they hadn’t called to ask. Were they worried? Concerned? She pressed the button and raised the shields about three seconds before the Kalla called them. She put the call on speakers. <“Kalla to Savval,”> the voice stated, <“stand down and prepare to be boarded.”>

She stayed sat as the feline on the other ship glowered at her from the viewscreen. She waved a hand. “Not going to happen, Kalla,” she advised. “From what we know, you’re acting on an illegal order regarding this vessel. I’m intending to deliver this cargo to the research departments and I’m not letting anyone stop me. I have no intention of firing upon you unless you fire first.”

The feline bristled. <“You think we would fire upon you? No Council vessel has fired on another in over two decades! Stand down and let us help you!”>

“On this mission, Captain, Pirates have tried to trick us, Micans have ‘escorted’ us, we’ve hit a field of cloaked mines, our escort ship has been sabotaged with a hull mounted micro mine, we’ve encountered a virus that very nearly wiped out a Raitchian cruise ship, had a conspiracy involving some of my own crew and fundameltalists, been forced to work with Balbury and,” she continued, standing up and building her tone with anger as she continued, “ engaged the location making the object in question and seen my escort clipper forced to crash land due to enemy action! My trust,” she finished, “right now? Stands at zero. I do NOT trust anyone else to take this stuff to where it’s supposed to go. I do NOT intend to stand down, Commander. I do NOT plan to obey you as I do NOT believe your orders to stop me are legitimate. Now stay still. We’re not going to hurt you.”

Now the feline was actively angry. His ears were up. The hackles on the back of his neck were up, she reckoned. He was certainly spitting. <“Our orders come direct from Admiral Poldwick and...”>

“He does NOT have juridiction in this region of space. Your transfer orders are being investigated, Captain,” Hawthorne sat back down again. Closer, she thought, closer…

The Feline was trying to control himself now, she noted, imagining his claws grinding into his arm rests and cutting circuitry on the way. <“How do I convince you of our goodwill,”> he asked tightly,

“I’m not sure you can,” Hawthorne commented, before sitting up. “But you’re welcome to try. You have better engines than I do so we can’t outrun you. I will not stop in front of your guns. We’ll stand to under you. Where you can’t shoot us. Then you can come aboard. With a teleport actuator if you like.”

<“No, Lieutenant Commander, YOU will come aboard MY ship. With such a device.”> The line cut out and Hawthorne wished they had a bucket on the bridge.

She swallowed.

“Captain,” Denver said from his weapons station, “can I ask our strategy?”

“Just remember to target their weapons, engines and communications, Colin.”

“But our weapons aren’t powered up,” he protested. “If we power up, they’ll detect it and put their shields up. We don’t have the power to stop them or beat them.”

Hawthorne held a rictus grin. She had to. If she relaxed, she was going to throw up. Hold her nerve; hold her nerve… “What,” she said grimly, hardly moving her mouth to say it, “do you think I’ve been doing these last few hours?”


The two ships drew together, almost melding together on any watching screens, as Flass sorted out her few people in the best places she could. Fortunately one or two of Durness’s people had been in the various militias before signing up so, even if not overwhelmingly efficient with blaster pistols, they at least knew how to use them. The others had just taken a few classes. They were the desperation layer she didn’t want to use. Doctor Quella had reminded her lot they were here to save lives, not take them so she’d only allowed them to be issued with stun weapons. Also, she didn’t trust them not to shoot each other. She’d played energy tag with Eckersley’s engineers on Pandera recently so she knew they were competent. At least with light weapons. Her last stop was the bay where she noted several crates had been moved to provide something of a barricade for Jax and the two IOC agents to hide behind. It seemed like an idea so she joined them behind it. She glanced at the Lappinean. “What kind of gun is that,” she asked.

“An awesome type,” Minika replied.

The two ships became one, at least in profile. Hawthorne really needed the toilet. Cheel brought them to a stop. “Are you ready to go aboard,” Denver asked, clearly worried.

“Nope,” she replied tightly. “Be ready, Colin…” She signalled the Kalla whilst bringing up their scans of the ship on her panel and shutting off her own shields. “I stand ready, Kalla,” she said before cutting the line. She kept watching the scan…


As soon as the scans showed the shields going down on the Kalla, she hit several buttons at speed and restored the Savval’s shields to prevent them beaming out. “Power up, Colin,” she called. “Target their main engines and communications!”

The first did as ordered and, to his immense surprise, the avval’s shots struck home, blasting chunks out of the hull as Cheel took the unspoken hint and started the ship moving again. “How the..?”

“Never mind that. Cheel, bring us about! Colin, take out their communications!”


A short while later, they were back on course, travelling at velocity two point five. Hawthorne returned from the bathroom and sat. Denver turned to her. “OK, what did you do?”

“Why do you think I wanted all the information on the three Frigates, Colin? Including their access codes? I’m a computer specialist who’s had days to set up viruses for each of the ships. We needed them to lower their shields so I could put a cascade virus in their system, it was set to disable them. Their computer specialist would be able to rid them of it. It was rudimentary.”

“Which is why you had me shoot out their comms system. So they couldn’t tell the other ships.”

“Until the Bowlwick finds them, of course,” Cheel chipped in.

“Yeah,” Hawthorne replied. “It won’t work twice and they know we know...”

[Amazee Dayzee]

Don't you just hate it when they know that you know something which you were hoping to use as an advantage for a situation? Great chapter though!

[Welsh Halfwit]

FIFTY

Twenty hours out from the research and disposal station and Hawthorne was getting antsy. Following their recent altercation, Cheel had adjusted their headings again to avoid contact with the Stoktina or the Bowlwick or the Stoktina AND the Bowlwick. The problem was that delays meant the Bowlwick would be able to get to the Raicarra station before them if they chose to stop following and just accelerate to the end. On the positive side, they might stop to help the Kalla with repairs. Hey, she told herself as she sat up in bed, trying to read, positivity was a good thing, wasn’t it? She flicked the page on her realbook (trademark imitation paper) and read exactly what Mellors was up to and she wondered how the prudish Humans had ever allowed this to be published back in the day they’d had. Or perhaps it was something the Lappinean translator had added when it had been used to promote Human culture? She’d try the original someday. Ooh, my, she’d have to try THAT with Dale. She put the book aside, shuffled down between sheets and duvet and turned the light out to get some shut eye, as directed by Denver and Quella, who her first had called in when she’d declared herself fine. Not even a Captain can overrule a ship’s chief medical officer when it came down to it. A lieutenant-Commander had no chance. Her feet flexed involuntarily, splaying her toes and wrinkling the duvet as she yawned. Perhaps the pair had had a point.


Professor Durness tutted as she pulled the sleeping form of Eckersley out from under the latest probe they’d been altering. She reached down and tapped his cheeks. “C’mon, humey,” she told him sweetly, “wake up, heh?”

“Wassn’t ‘sleep,” the Human replied drowsily. “Was checkin’ there were no glue sealing my eyelids down.”

“Hurr, you were snoring.”

He yawned and stretched, feeling the crick in his back and wondering if the distinguished Mican heard the sound. They’d been dealing with the latest act of desperation idea from the bridge, which was based on the last one, for hours now and it had obviously taken its’ toll on the Human. “Guess it has been a long day. How many’ve we done,” he asked.

Durness, moaned quietly and put her hands to her hips to stretch. “Fourteen,” she told him. “I think it’s time for a break, heh?”

Eckersley yawned and wondered if the room was shaking. It brought tears to his eyes. “Ten left,” he said, getting the numbers right. “I suppose I can take a few hours off.” He tapped her on the nose. “So long as YOU do too? Caffeine pills aren’t good for you, y’know?”

“Hurr, I’m just doing the mental stuff. You’re the one adjusting the hardware, heh.”

“It’s still hard work,” Eckersley said, gently guiding her to the door.


“Greedan,” Quella said, talking to her new associate after a number of hours. She didn’t get a response so she repeated the call and threw a stress ball at him. The new guy jumped and almost hit his head on the console as he splayed thirty characters onto the keyboard. “Greedan,” she said for the third time as he looked around for who’d attacked him.

He relaxed and almost laughed. “Sorry,” he said, turning his chair back around. “Forgot that’s my name now. What’s up, Doc?”

Quella looked at him suspiciously. “I’ve never appreciated Human sayings,” she told him, “and that one least of all.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Greedan lied.

“Hmm, better not,” she replied, side eyeing him. “Anyhow, you’ve been at it a few hours. Time for coffee and a break. Sandwich?”

He thought on things and decided that he hadn’t eaten since he’d been transformed and, yes, he was hungry. It felt different to before, somehow. A little more primal and cloying but… “Uh, yeah. Something with, um, meat and grains. Shall we test if I’m still intolerant to Greyaseed?”

Quella shrugged. “Why not? There are easier ways but none faster.”

“Oh, you might want to test my left foot as well.”

She looked down at the Orange and white mandible with Mican toes and Celican claws attached. “What’s wrong with it?”

Greedan nodded his head a few times before replying. “It was blown off by the grenade,” he admitted sheepishly. “I don’t kn…”

He didn’t get to finish as Quella was already fondling and running scanners over the foot. “There must be some regenerative elements to the ooze too,” she enthused, “and it probably worked out the exact shape and size of the other foot and the fact it should be mirrored like the hands…” She looked up to see him trying not to giggle as she fondled his footpads. “You’re lucky the big toe’s n the correct side. Did you know it could do stuff like this?”

“Well, we… knew it had some capabilities in that regard,” he admitted, scratching the back of his new neck with his new hand as he tried to stop the dang tell-tale tail telling tales. Huh, he thought, try saying that five times fast. “This extent is a surprise. Um, I’m really getting hungry now, Doc…”

“Right, right,” she said, standing up and trying not to think of how sexy his footpads had been. “Save that up and we’ll go to the rest area. Actually, I better do it.” She reached over, over his shoulder, to get to the keyboard and he took in her scent.

He lick-kissed her neck and she froze. He backpedalled slightly. “Sorry, sorry,” he protested. “I don’t know why I did that. I’m engaged to be mated with…”

Quella sighed. “Fine, fine. Don’t do it again, Greedan,” she ordered, before giving a whisper of a smile. “Almost a compliment,” she admitted, “getting one of those off a Celican cross. Just remember,” she added, “from the notes the Pirate’s Doctor put in, created Hybrids are fully fertile”

“I hadn’t heard that,” he replied, standing up again as she finished saving the files and took his arm so they could talk on the way.


“Well, this could be a problem,” Hawthorne said as she sat in her chair some seven hours later. The ship was eight hours out from the Raicasta base and Hawthorne could see there were ships between them and it.


Three of them.

[Amazee Dayzee]

Three ships against one? If it was Hawle he would like those odds a lot.

Then again I think Hawle is a danger seeker at some points also I will have to admit. Great chapter!

[Welsh Halfwit]

Three ships against one? If it was Hawle he would like those odds a lot.

Then again I think Hawle is a danger seeker at some points also I will have to admit. Great chapter!

Oh, Hawthorne isn't out of tricks yet. Ships are always bigger and more powerful than her. She's learning how to use her brain more than firepower ..

[Amazee Dayzee]

Here is hoping she can take what she knows and can SUCCESSFULLY apply it here if she has any chance of getting out of this. Something tells me that this is gonna be PHENOMENALLY difficult.

[Welsh Halfwit]

FIFTY-ONE

“So,” Hawthorne asked the others as they looked at the group ahead of them, “ideas on how to get around them?” The three ships hung as dots on the sensors at extreme range, a precursor of danger to come.

“I think you should ask the smarter people on board,” Cheel put in, minus her usual humour.

“And I think you should stop hiding your cunning under a bush,” Hawthorne retorted. “What if we fired off one of the altered probes? Could that pull one of them off station at least?”

“Not by enough,” Denver replied. “They’d keep in communications anyhow. As soon as we moved, they’d converge on us.”

“Why are we able to see ‘em on sensors anyhow,” Cheel asked. “I mean we could see the Kalla before they could see us…”

“Budget, Cheyla,” Hawthorne mentioned. “We’re a science vessel. Whereas combat ships get budget for weapons, we get budget for science equipment and scanners. Our fighters are old but our sensor suites are top of the line. I’m more interested in their number.”

“Three of them,” Denver agreed. “Unless they’ve recovered the Kalla, there’s four ships involved now. According to the transponders, that’s the Krangat, one of the local defence frigates for the station.”

“Do we know who’s commanding,” Hawthorne asked.

“Uh,” Denver hesitated and crecked his readouts. “A Commander Krevin. Feline Male,”

Hawthorne shook her head and sat back. “Don’t know him. Pass me the crew details, would you?”

Denver sent the details across and stared at his same ranked superior as he tried to work out what she was doing. She’d begun to surprise him these last few days. She was beginning to grow into the role, he’d decided, now she was being put to the test. “What’s the plan, captain,” he asked.

She held a hand up to beg him for a moment to herself as she perused the listings. “Ah,” she said eventually – or was it only a minute later? “Just to check, Colin, as I pretty much know the answer, but, if we sent a direct beam transmission from here to the Krangat, the others would pick it up?”

“Yep, and that’s disregarding the fact they’d tell the others anyhow.”

“But, as a regular patrol ship, they’ll wander around anyhow?”

“I’d assume so.”

Hawthorne nodded. “Right. I’m going to open a channel from my office.” Colin looked at her wide eyed. “Not to them,” she laughed as she stood up. “To Lappara.”


An hour later, Hawthorne noted the Krangat heading their way on what she hoped looked like a normal patrol. The Savval hung in the ellipse of an uninhabited planet’s moon so the ship would have to come further to see them. If they needed to fight, the longer they had just one to shoot at… “Should we raise shields,” Denver asked as Hawthorne leaned forward slightly.

She waved a hand. “Shields up but don’t charge weapons,” she advised.

Colin Denver looked at her as though she were mad. “What,” he declared, before remembering to add a ‘sir’ to his outburst.

“And we’re staying where we are,” Cheel asked.

“We are.”

Cheel broke out into an incongruous smile. “Who was it?”

“Their second science Officer,” Hawthorne told her. “My Mother’s brother’s son. I call mum, she called him, he called Barni. Barni tells his Captain to come talk to us. He’s obviously suspicious of his new friends.” She grimaced. “I hope.”


The fierce looking feline with one eye glared at her from it, his grizzled look accentuated by his frizzled fur and sharpened teeth. <“Give me a reason to trust you, Plebar,”> he intoned as they watched each other on the screen.

“I could send you our logs,” Hawthorne commented lightly. “Show you the abject chaos we’ve been through this last week.”

<“With what you did to the Kallas, I’m not accepting any files from you. Tell me. I’ll see your truth in your eyes.”>

So she told him. She told him of the chemical in the hold and what it did. His eye opened a little wider at that. She told him of the fact their itinerary had been leaked and a Pirate ship had tried to ambush them in Mican space. She told him of their escort through Mican space and their suspicions as to the fleet they were hiding. She told how the Savval and the Fallir had been escorted by the MacCrimmon and how that ship had been crippled by a cloaked mine field laid directly in their path. She told of the sabotage on Raitche, the mercy rush to the cruise liner and all the events on Lappara, including the grounding of the Fallir. And then she told him of the fact that a suspect Admiral of a distant sector had assigned three ships to ‘escort’ them from Lappara to Raicasta. She played back the discussion with Postlethwaite so he could hear it over the relay without her sending it to him.


He tutted. He growled. He twitched the side of his mouth. Hawthorne got the distinct impression that he’d not been happy about his two new ‘associates’ dropping in. She figured they’d arrived with tales of how they were in command and the locals should do everything they say and here’s an Admiral’s name to salute whilst you’re doing it. <“Where’s your evidence of this collusion,”> he stated ominously.

“Haven’t got any,” Hawthorne admitted. “Not really. But I kept telling the Kalla that I was taking this stuff to Raicasta for storage as I was ordered to and they kept trying to stop me and take it. That seemed to be a clue. And, if you want proof of our intent? We seem to be headed for the station now, don’t we?”

She saw he couldn’t argue with that. <“I’m going to need to contact sector command on this,” he told them.

“Any contact you have with Command will be known to them almost as soon as you do it,” Hawthorne warned.

“Ah,” Cheel said sharply. “I don’t think that’s going to much matter.”

Both of the Commanding Officers looked at the Raitchian. <“Why,”> Krevin spat.

“They’ve gotten bored,” she replied. “They’re coming over.”

[Amazee Dayzee]

I am really enjoying the way that this chapter has come out! Good job getting it done!

[Welsh Halfwit]

FIFTY-TWO


Stay hidden, Commander Krevin had told them, so Hawthorne had pushed the ship further into the cover of the moon as the Krangat moved to talk with the other two ships. His comms officer had left the line open on an extremely narrow band so the Savval could hear as they talked. She heard them tell the Bowlwick and the Stoktina that they were just following standard patrol procedures and there was nothing wrong out here. Hawthorne was pretty sure they didn’t believe the Krangar, largely because they were trying to outflank her. They were playing for time. The Kalla was probably on her way at whatever speed they could manage. The trap was closing slowly, she knew. But slowly was better than fast. The ships had obviously altered their transponder frequencies so as to avoid her doing to them what she’d done to the Kalla but she couldn’t try anyhow. The signal would be picked up immediately. “Cheyla,” she asked quietly, not wanting to talk over the Krangat’s Commander in the absurd idea he could hear them when they were on transmit only, “if we were to move around the other side of this moon, would they be able to detect us?”

“Ah, they’d pick up the power signature pretty quickly, Skip,” she replied. “Within thirty seconds at most.”

“Not long enough for us to do a pincer movement and surprise them,” Denver put in.

“And they’d have our heading and velocities as soon as we were on the same side of the moon.”

Hawthorne clicked her fingers. “Sounds fine to me.” She tapped the commpanel. “Plebar to Durness.”

<“Hurr, here,”> the Mican replied gruffly.

“Ready one of our prepared probes for launch, would you? One of OURS. Immediately, thank you.”

<“On it, heh.”>


It took two minutes for her and Eckersley to confirm they had one of the correct probes loaded and Hawthorne ordered the immediate launch, as Krevin once again attempted to convince the others there was nothing to see here. That, Hawthorne thought, was just about to change. They had little choice. From what they could tell from the relayed sensors, the Bowlwick was about to get enough of an angle to pick them up on sensors anyway. So this should confuse the situation somewhat. The probe struck out from behind them, turned around the angle of the moon and shot towards the Raicarra station. The read outs indicated the sudden change of position for the two hostiles as they turned towards the probe and accelerated after it. She took the chance to order Cheel to put them in so close to the Krangat so as to almost appear invisible when they eventually turned around.

Cheel complied, putting the Savval so close behind the engines that Quella would probably have to treat the crew for radiation effects afterwards. <“You may have bought us minutes,”> Krevin told her gruffly. <“They’ll know as soon as they reach that probe that it’s not you and they’ll know what’s happening.”>

“Then we need to be ready to fight, don’t we,” Hawthorne said sorrowfully. “All this time and now we’re playing for every minute. We’ll follow your tactics. You’re the combat ship.”

The Commander grumbled. <“Stay close. I can’t believe they’d fire on us but...”>

“Yeah,” Hawthorne agreed as the probe vanished from sensors.


The two ships headed back towards them on the screen, approaching in something that looked very much like an attack pattern reminding Hawthorne of the pirates who’d attacked her right before Savra had unloaded this flaming Albatross on her. She wondered why she’d called it an Albatross. She wondered what an Albatross was. But it was real, it was here and they were calling her. Oh, and Commander Krevin too. Now, how did she split the screen again? She found the combination of buttons and Krevin’s face appeared next to a Canines. “Commander Hayles of the Bowlwick, I presume,” she said with enhanced sweetness. “I’m sorry we missed you at Lappara but we had to leave rather quickly. Ahead of schedule even.”

<“Stand down and prepare to surrender your cargo as you were supposed to do on Lappara.”>

Hawthorne sat back, put her hands under her chin and crossed her legs. “What was supposed to happen after we’d done that,” she asked. “An ‘accident’ in transit that looked rather like three frigates destroying two clippers? Blame it on pirates and deliver the chemicals to Admiral Poldwick. Hmm, BoWlwick. Poldwick. I’m going to get those two mixed up.”

<“I don’t know who that is,”> Hayles lied.

<“Really,”> Krevin asked, <“you don’t know the name of the Admiral who assigned you here? Or who actually handed you your command? My apologies, Lieutenant Commander,”> he added, addressing Hawthorne. <“Despite what was said I still had my doubts. But now we know this mutt is a liar,”> he continued, using the derogative to irk the other Commander.

“Yeah, well,” Hawthorne interrupted. “It’s probably smart he’s claiming not to know him. Especially since we consulted with our own Sector Chief who, being a former Senior IOC Agent, was able to tell us that IOC has now kicked their investigations into Bowlw… Uh Poldwick, into high gear. Everyone involved with him is about to find their lives turned upside down and turned inside out. I hear they’re building new stockades on Mica. They’ll probably only want those who knew they were acting on illegal orders. I mean, you didn’t know the things he was up to, did you, Commander,” she finished sweetly, watching his face go through several contortions. She fancied he was about to concede the position when Cheel called out.

“Watch out,” she called, “the Stoktina…”

“Shields up,” Hawthorne called rhetorically as she had the button anyhow. She pressed it to engage the energy field as the frigate they’d not been talking to tried to lash them with fire. Hawthorne cut the line as Denver powered up the weapons. The Bowlwick pushed sharp to starboard as the Krangat opened fire on her. “Extraction pattern 14,” Hawthorne called to Cheyla.


The fight was on.

[Amazee Dayzee]

Now we are getting to the good part with the battle! It is gonna be really interesting! Awesome job on this chapter as usual!

[Harry Johnathan]

9DE3DBC6-3C6C-47B6-964F-306A58EC50F5.gif (398.9 KiB) Viewed 4727 times

[Amazee Dayzee]

When the other ships end up inevitably losing, here is hoping that it is not TOO humiliating. XD

[Harry Johnathan]

Also, the albatross line was funny, lol.

[Welsh Halfwit]

Well, she must have heard it somewhere(!) (Plus she reads literature from many origins.)

FIFTY-THREE

The Savval pushed out and around her new ally and engage the Stoktina as Hawthorne did her best to infiltrate the frigate’s computer systems. She’d have a much better chance if she wasn’t directing her attention to the battle so sent the information down to Crawton in the computer lab. It wasn’t something she’d wanted to do as it meant she lost control as to what they could do with the information if they got in but, right now, it wasn’t her call. “Open fire,” she told Denver rhetorically as he sat poised to fire. He needed her order so it wasn’t his responsibility. Once he had it, he got on with the job.

“Firing,” he said stiffly, the clippers main guns opening up. Striking faint yellow beams of coloured light scratching along the top of the Stoktina’s shields and pulling sparks from the interaction.

“They’ve not launched fighters,” Cheel put in, not waiting for instructions and setting her own courses at random.

“Not wise in close combat, Cheyla,” Hawthorne advised. “Everything’s flying and twisting and weapons fire going everywhere. No room for them to launch.”

“They’re targetting shields,” Denver told them as the ship shuddered under impact.

“Noted that,” Hawthorne replied. She thumbed the ship comm. “Captain Plebar to fighter bay. We’re not launching today, it seems. Draw small arms, get to Cargo Bay two and help Flass and Jak defend the macguffin.” She disconnected the comm and sat back as Denver fired again. “Why hasn’t my belt activated,” she asked, tapping the button that should lock her into her chair. Nothing happened. “Typical,” she muttered, holding on as an impact threatened to throw her from her seat.


“So she’s sending us back up,” Flass told Jak and the others as they stayed in preparation for the assault that may come at any time.

“Grim news,” Jak replied, keeping his tone low so only Flass could hear him. “Means they’re really thinking we’re going to be boarded. And pilots are usually great in the seat with cannons but not as good crouched with a pistol.”

“Don’t insult our back up,” Hayley called from her hiding place.

“Or Rabbit ears,” Minika called. She held on as the ship twisted sideways. “So, you going to ask that Barista friend of yours back to the house for a coffee and a poke when we get back?”

Hayley looked at Minika with half a reply on her lips before she reasoned what had just been said. “You want to discuss that NOW,” she asked.

“Yup,” the slim Lappinean replied, making sure her ears stayed down to minimise her exposure. “You always evade when I bring it up but you’re trapped here now. He’d be a fool to turn you down, Hayles. I bet he’s just waiting for you.”

“I’ll ask him when I’m ready.”

“You’re about to face potential death,” Minika retorted as the three pilot officers made their way in and Jak directed them to the back of the bay, to cover them in case the enemy transported in to the middle of the bay. They were overwatch, “I’d think you’d be ready for asking someone out.”

“Different sort of…” Hayley caught herself as she almost tumbled past her friend. “Courage,” she finished. She grinned. “There IS a film I wouldn’t mind seeing at the local ‘plex,” she finished. “Wonder if he’ll let me buy him a ticket?”


“Shields at thirty percent,” Hawthorne advised the others on the bridge as Cheel twisted them away from an incoming shot, making Denver miss the target he was aiming at and accidentally hit the Bowlwick as she evaded the attack from the Krangat. For a moment, the Bowlwick changed her attack vector to repel the Savval rather than targetting the Krangat and the ship shuddered under a broad fusillade of impacts. She rerouted power from propulsion to shields to bring things back up to thirty percent power from the precarious three percent it had been knocked down to. If she had a full time officer to run scanners, she might know the condition of the Krangat but she didn’t. She couldn’t risk diverting attention from what she was doing. She couldn’t imagine she was doing too much better, of course. The Savval had been trying to keep the Stokina busy so the Krangat could concentrate on the Bowlwick but the Stokina was still regarding the Savval as a mere annoyance and the frigate as the primary target… “Shields down,” she called as the ship was hit again. It took her several seconds to reroute power to the protective cover. She ran a scan of the interior of the ship and tapped the comm. “All hands, repel boarders!”


“Five of them,” Jak said, putting away his scanner as they approached. “Probably in combat armour.”

“Which we’ve not got yet,” Flass complained.

“So you don’t know the weak point,” Jak asked. “The joints. Armour’s weaker there. Particularly underarm.”

“If they raise their arms to surrender, I’ll shot them there, then,” Flass replied, dialling up the power on her pistol as the first figure appeared and firing. “This room’s occupied,” she called. “Try elsewhere!”

<“What we want is in there,”> the voice replied. <“It needs to be secured.”>

“It IS secure, dingbat,” she called ungallantly. “If you want to prove otherwise, just try and take it!”

“Will you stop antagonising our better armed opponents,” Jak asked Flass as a second trooper in the doorway, firing a pulse weapon that crashed into the cover close to Flass and Jak fired back, staggering the opponent but not dropping him as a smoke grenade rolled in. Hayley shot it before it got too far in but the cloud of grey filled the doorway and the troops advanced.
Minika pointed her small weapon, kept her eye on the target and fired several darts in rapid fire, dropping the target as they cut through the neck joints and delivered their toxic compound to the individual inside. The team drew back again at the unexpected event.

“How did you see into that smoke,” Hayley asked.

“Mathematical probabilities,” she bluffed. “Not going to work often, I’m afraid. This thing’s only got five shots.”


The Krangat was definitely losing the fight, just like the Savval. They’d inflicted a lot of damage on the others but not enough. The Bowlwick’s systems were failing intermittently, their engines floundering and holes in their shielding and the same was true for the Stoktina. But the weapons on the Savval were failing and… Hawthorne glanced at the long range sensors. Three blips showing, coming close. She’d not seen them as she was so concentrated on the battle. In fact, one was outstripping the others. It was almost on them already… Who were they? If the reader was operable she could tell but…


The advance ship slapped back into normal space. Almost immediately, a general signal came through, targetting all the ships. Audio only, as with all general signals. A voice came through, bereft of its usual humour and lightness. <“This is Commander Aldair Hawle of the Loper,”> he said <“If you don’t stop shooting at my cousin, I’ll destroy the pair of you.”> And the Loper launched her fighters...

[Amazee Dayzee]

FINALLY! I was waiting for Hawle to make an appearance! We sort of need him to make a big grand proposal to his girlfriend in front of people.

[Harry Johnathan]

I love how much personality you inject into even the tiniest sequences. I could never hope to replicate that level of “life” in my own writing, lol.

[Amazee Dayzee]

I could never hope to be as good of a writer as Welsh also so there you go.

[Welsh Halfwit]

FIFTY-FOUR

On the screen in front of them, the combat continued, Council ships firing on Council ships in a way that made the crew uneasy as Commander Aldair Hawle stood and watched. Maze Hardy’s fighter squad flitted into the view from the left hand side, accelerating past the ship and towards the combat.

Sarina Raven, his first Officer, glanced at him from her chair. She knew this couldn’t be easy for him, his cousin in trouble and Council fighting Council. It wasn’t easy for any of them, she supposed. They’d been on their way anyhow, after Postlethwaite had called them when the Savval had been at Lapparra and had adjusted course once they’d had second contact with the old Mican. He’d somehow known their exact position and had stated he was sending assistance. Raven didn’t know how he’d known but Sarah, working around her growing bump, had set engines to maximum, despite Katara calling and cursing her and him for pushing, and floored it. And now they were here. And no-one was listening.

“Dawton,” Hawle asked, “we ARE transmitting aren’t we? You haven’t pressed the ‘mute’ button or something?”

“Not after that last time, sir,” the Human replied. He’d hit ‘mute’ when talking to his girlfriend in Cora II space traffic control when alone on the bridge and Match had walked in. Then he’d hung up and forgotten about it until Hawle had tried contacting a Celican freighter Captain and spent five minutes talking before the Celican told them he couldn’t hear them.

“Put me on to Flight leader Hardy,” he said and Dawton linked the two. “Maze,” he stated,

<“Online, sir,”>

“I’ve asked them to stand down and I don’t think they’re listening to me,” he told her, feigning sounding hurt. “Please target the Stoktina and boot her in the privates for her rudeness, would you?”

<“Targeting her engines only,”> Maze replied, cutting the link.

“Targetting the Bowlwick,” Raven assumed, directing Chapston to alter the plan of attack.

“Half power, Sarina,” he replied, sitting back into his command chair.


Jak caught Flass as she was thrown back by the destruction of her cover and helped her behind his cover as the firefight continued. The pilots were doing their best to assist the others but their guns weren’t really that powerful when they couldn’t see the weak points of the armour. But they could still get lucky. One of the attackers staggered as Hayleys’ shot impacted the faceplate, cracking the visor and damaging the mounted sensors. He turned towards her and was struck down by shots from behind as Eckersley and his engineers concentrated their fire, completing the crescent of fire around the enemy. The last two held their armoured hands up in surrender. Jak expected Flass to take control of the situation and, when she didn’t, looked down at her. She was bleeding from wounds taken from the blown cover, leaking heavily and fighting hard to stay conscious as she looked up at him. He tapped his comm. “Medical Emergency in Cargo bay two,” he called.

<“Acknowledged, But it might take some time for us to get to you”> she continued. <“There’s a lot of injuries around the ship.”>

“She doesn’t have long,” Jak protested as Hayley demanded the assault survivors remove their armour.

<“Does Cargo bay two have a medical supply kit,”> a voice in the medical bay said. Jak thought he recognised it.

<“Yes, it does...”>

“A medical pack isn’t going to cut it,” Jak shouted. “She’s bleeding too heavily!”

<“But it has applicators,”> the voice persisted. <“This is the healing the gel was originally designed to do! Use the gel!”>

<“It’s… an idea,”> the Doctor admitted hopelessly.

“He’s right,” Hayley admitted, helping Flass’s people take the now armourless pair into custody as things stopped shaking around them. “I read the reports on it.”

Jak looked worried. “But…”

<“An expert’s on his way,”> Quella told him.

“Right,” Greedan said, striding quickly into the cargo bay, “let’s get to this.”

Hadrian stood straight against the new Hybrid and looked down at him angrily. “No. Way.”

Greedan wanted to cower away as the tall Security Officer glared down at him, his cyberantlers sharpening. Well, part of him wanted to cower. The other half wanted to stand it’s ground. “Either I do it, you do it or she dies, Mr Jak! I can do it without introducing other genetic material!”

Jak looked around but understood the situation he was in. He didn’t really have much choice did he? He handed him the medical pack and stormed over to the hidden panel to open it. It had been spared most of the rolling and juddering by being gyro-stablised but Greedan insisted he be the one to open it. “It doesn’t gene blend twice,” he told Jak, “so I’m in no danger of changing… further.”

Jak hovered but had to move over to the others as one of the pilot Officers punched a prisoner in the face. “Enough of that,” he shouted, almost making Greedan jump as he extracted some of the gel with a medical applicator. “We don’t treat prisoners that way!”

“Where we putting them,” Minika asked, glancing at the Celican captive coyly.

“Bay one’s got a lot of strong things to cuff them to,” Eckersley advised. “There’ll do for now, I think?” He nodded to Greedan. “What’s he doing?”

“Saving her life,” Jak remarked, “he hopes.”

“You stay alive,” Greedan told Flass as she arced against the arrival of the gel to her wounds.


The fight ceased. It wasn’t so much the presence of the Loper that had ended things as the fact that the MacCrimmon and the Crawtin, her patrol partner, had also arrived on the scene so they were now outnumbered and outgunned and they weren’t really looking to die for the Admiral’s benefit. When things had quietened down and second officers from the patrol ships had been allocated to take charge of the rebels, Hawthorne waited on the arrival in her teleport booth. He arrived and Hawthorne was sure the epaulettes came first, followed by the bandana and the slightly off kilter uniform that went with everything else and Aldair as well. He stepped down and hugged his cousin.

“How did you know,” Hawthorne asked, almost choked with emotion.

“We were already coming, of course,” Aldair told her. “Then ‘someone’ called Henry after you called her and we got the position…”

Hawthorne laughed. Just as she’d planned.

[Harry Johnathan]

Your fight choreography is so good, really. Dawton’s story must have been embarrassing, lol. And I love how you weave subplots into battles and give minor characters the time to shine.

[Welsh Halfwit]

My favourite part of the Dawton gag is Hawle not letting a Celican getting a word in edgeways for five minutes...

[Amazee Dayzee]

This was a really nice chapter you did! But then again a story is ALWAYS elevated if it has Hawle in it XD

[Welsh Halfwit]

FIFTY-FIVE

The station covered most of the viewer at this distance as the small convoy of frigates escorted the clipper ship towards her final destination. The towers of Raicasta station, a co-operative operation of Raicarra Industries, Fawren Spaceways and the Council was probably the prettiest thing Cheyla Cheel had seen for some time. It was certainly a place she could use Galnet to find out how much currency she now had from the auction on Lappara. Although, of course, that wasn’t the most important thing right now, was it? People were hurt and she’d need to be there as they recovered, particularly Flass. Sheesh, she thought as she sent the ‘please open the doors’ signal to the station ahead. They’d send back a welcoming message in a moment, which would also serve to tell her exactly where to dock and what route to take. The station did have her own defences and there were another three Frigates somewhere in nearby space. With the Bowlwick and the Stoktina only barely under the command of new officers from the lovely Frigates who’s come to their rescue things were still tense and she quite wanted to be inside. She’d heard they’d had to save Flass’s life with the gel. She wondered if there had been any rogue DNA in there? The idea of the proud Mican becoming something new was frightening yet faintly amusing and… No. Flass was a friend now!

“Could you concentrate on the driving, Cheyla,” Hawthorne said as the view of the station began to drift slightly in the viewscreen. “Station security’s on high alert and wanting to shoot things. I’d rather they didn’t shoot us because they thought we were going to crash…”

“Huh? Right. Sorry, Cap’n,” Cheel said, shaking the thoughts free and moving her brain back into duty.”

“Can’t have a driver who can’t park, eh?”

“I’ll let you ‘ave that one, Captain,” Cheel grouched, almost appreciating the line. Hawthorne had grown during this mission, she reckoned. She’d only needed to bolt for the bucket once. And now she was using wit to defuse tension. The Raitchian brought the ship down to docking bay fourteen and commenced lock on as Hawthorne headed down to the docking port.


It rolled aside as she got there, revealing a rather stern looking midnight blue Berman scientist who she knew as station administrator Willa, a fact rendered useless by the fact she introduced herself. “I take it you’re Lieutenant Commander Plebar?”

Hawthorne stood tall and was thankful she’d got a fesh uniform on as the powerful Feline looked her up and down. “I am indeed, Administrator,” she said, offering a hand.

The administrator accepted the offer as a trio of other operatives entered the port. “I understand you have some chemicals for us?”

Hawthorne sagged slightly. “I do indeed. Considering all the things that we’ve been through, I’m glad to hand it off. Should mention we have had to use a little of it to treat a medical emergency in the last hour…”

The grip on her hand tightened. “You’ve had to use some? Where is the patient?”

“Medical bay… ow.”

“Oh, sorry.” She released the hand. “There’s one currently going through the changes?”

“Hope not,” Hawtorne told her, walking towards the medical bay, “we don’t think there’s any new DNA in the wounds.”

“Doctor Picle,” the Burman told the Shrewvian, “go consult with the Medical Officer here. Observe the process.” The long nosed rodent nodded and headed on his own way to the medical station so the others could go straight to the cargo bay. “I see signs of violence,” she said, noting the blast marks on the walls. “Did you lose anyone in the fight?”

Hawthorne shook her head. “We got lucky. Partly due to the gel and partly due to having an extra hand.” They entered the bay. “Speaking of which, Administrator Willa,” she said, gesturing to the trio in the bay, avoiding the slicks of blood on the floor, “may I present Hadrian Jak, Deputy security chief of the Battleship Rodomont and Agents Charles and Rogan of Raitche IOC.”

Willa glowered at the two IOC agents who’d almost cost her station their funding after they helped take down half of Raicarra for corruption a year or so back. “Delighted,” she lied before bowing to Jak. “Is that it,” she said, pointing to the barrel. Her associate started to head towards it but Jak stood between them and it.

“That’s as far as you go until I get the transfer request,” Jak told them, making himself look big and sharpening his antlers.

Willa smiled. “Quite right.” She reached into her jacket and pulled out a small padd and handed it to her Canine companion to hand over. “It’s all there,”

Jak examined the orders and stepped aside. “Handle with care,” he warned, “and very thick gloves.”

The Canine examined the container closely, his boots leaving prints from where he’d walked through Flass’s blood. He checked the seal carefully. “It’s sealed but broken,” he confirmed. “Just as they told us. It’s safe to move. I’ll call in the moving gear.”

“Good,” Hawthorne stated. “Now, I take it we need debriefing?”


<“So you got there,”> Grovan put in as Hawthorne took the chance to use the Administrators office to call the Fallir and check on how things were progressing. <“Figured you would, Captain.”>

“It was a tight pinch at times, Captain,” Hawthorne replied, smiling as they shared the ‘joke’. She was on the station and he was in the U.S.C. base on Lappara. Neither of them were Captains right now and they knew it but they were, it seemed, friends now. “But we pulled through. How’s things with you?”

<“It seems I have a top notch new engineering team,”> the Collian told her, <“so the ship’s almost back up and running. And a certain Dacan’ll be coming with us.”>

“Good. We need the best people we can get, don’t we, Harper?”

Grovan opened his mouth, and shut it again. <“Commander Hawle told you?”>

“Figured it was OK to use it this once,” Hawthorne replied. “Between friends, I mean.”

He chuckled. <“I’ll allow it, Hawthorne. We’ll be back to the patch after this. See you out there?”>

“Count on it.” She cut the link. It was expensive and, anyway, she figured the sector commander was ready for her.

[Amazee Dayzee]

This was a very strong chapter you put up! Great work!

[Welsh Halfwit]

FINALE (FIFTY-SIX)

Time passed as Aldair waited in the staff canteen, an empty plate with crumbs opposite his chair as he chewed quietly on his Barvallan Stew with herb dumplings whilst he waited on Hawthorne in the hologram room where she’d been debriefed for the last two hours by a collection of Admirals, diplomats and IOC section heads from across the galaxy. People he wanted to meet and dreaded meeting at the same time. They were the sort of people who could promote you to president and squish you like a bug at the same time without even noticing they’d done it. He’d directed the waiter to come back around in a few minutes as it couldn’t go on for…

“Is this seat free,” Hawthorne asked, slightly exhausted as she arrived and pulled out the vacant chair.

“Abso..” Aldair looked over at the hologram room. “Absolutely. Um, yeah.” He stood up as she sat down. “How did..? I was watching that door the entire time…”

She thumbed over her shoulder. “Hologram room two,” she said, looking at the plate with the hints of food debris on it. “You not alone?”

“Cedar’s here,” Aldair told her, “he’s gone in to swap recipes with the station cook. Seems he appreciates the Kavvawheat brisket. Does this every time we stop at places… Wait, why are we talking about my chef? What about you?” He gestured to the right hologram room this time. “How’d you get on?”

She sighed and rested on her elbows as the waiter came over to take her order, having guessed that this was the moment he’d been waiting for. “They called a thirty minute break,” she said, choosing a 14 and 17 from the menu “Apparently things are happening fast now.”

“Yeah, well,” Aldair said, “I’d imagine they are.” He waited until the waiter headed off. “You kicked a hornets nest and a lot of things are flying right now. For a start, the Bowlwick’s lead officer is looking for a deal so IOC Mica and the forces there are probably striking to take Poldwick into custody before he gets too many files into the shredder or into any sort of safe house. Plus a lot of ships are going to be nipping over there to arrest several ship captains. And it’s all to do with you, my sweet cousin.”

She put her fae in her hands. “Put that way,” she moaned, “I’ve done a lot of damage.”

“Put that way,” he corrected, “you exposed a lot of things lurking under the skin. Needed to be done.” He put a hand across to hers. “Just surprised it was you who did it. Figured if any maverick was going to expose corruption in the states it’d be Chalton on the Demeter. Or Captain Hardwick on the Mousehunter…”

“Still can’t believe the Micans called one of their ships that.”

“It’s staffed with Micans and it’s a warship,” Aldair replied, shrugging as the waiter brought Hawthorne’s food to the table. “It’s kinda apt.”

“Is your name going on this list,” Hawthorne asked, a grin on her face for a moment as Aldair put his other hand to his chest.

“Me,” he asked innocently, “I’ll have you know I keep my insanity and chaos to my own ship.”

She looked down at the hand on hers and noticed the ring on the one finger. “Elena finally admitted it was a ‘yes’, eh?”

“Yeah, long term engagement.” His eyes widened. “Verrry long. Not sure if it was her idea or mine. I’ll have to get Groal back as best companion or something. So it’s going to be on Cora II and, knowing Elena, will involve pageantry, a symphony orchestra, the Bellaphron crew and, possibly, a President as her Matron of honour.” He smirked. “Just the thought of Postain as a Bridesmaid…” Now Hawthorne laughed and Aldair knew he’d gotten through her shell. “Yeah, well…” He sighed. “You’ll make Commander within a year if you keep this up,” he continued, one ear drooping to warn her that something was about to drop. “But not for this.”

She nodded as she ate some of her food. “Guessed that, ‘Dair,” she told him. “Laying aside the fact it’s all secret, I did engage in a firefight with other U.S.C. ships. That’s going to hang around my neck…”

Hawle patted her hand. “Not a chance. If the events didn’t happen – and, in a very little time, it won’t have happened – then no-one can be held responsible for it.”

“More cover ups,” Hawthorne told him.

“The higher you go, the more you keep secret. It’s the only way to do good half the time. Oh, Grovan’s blaming you for his ship being shot down. Well, he can’t be to blame, can he? So he called it in as you’re not going to be held accountable. Oh, and speaking of calling things in?” Hawthorne grimaced. She felt she knew what was coming. “Thank you for giving your mother Henry’s number.” Aldair continued. “She told MY mother and now she can get to me, through him, whenever she wants.”

She chuckled, hiding her face behind a hand as Cedar stepped back in, putting a padd into his pocket. “I’m sure she won’t use it to her advantage,” Hawthorne said.

“She’s planning the cathedral according to Colleen,” Cedar chipped in, getting the wrong end of the conversation as he slipped back into his seat. “Heya, Hawthorne.”

“Having fun, Cedar,” Hawthorne asked, a little happy for the diversion in topic.”

“Why would my mother be after a cathedral,” Aldair asked in confusion.


Three hours on, Hawthorne stepped onto the bridge of her ship again. Denver looked over to her. “How’d things go,” he asked.

“Inch thick forms and half a pint of blood, Colin,” she replied. “We’re offloading prisoners and IOC here – except that one prisoner, of course – and heading for home. We’re to have nothing more to do with this…” She nudged the back of Cheyla’s head playfully. “got that, Cheyla?”

“I wanted nuttin’ to do with it in th’ first place, skip,” she retorted.

“How much did you make,” Hawthorne asked, leaning on the back of her chair.

“Enough to retire. If’n I want’d to,” Cheyla responded, starting calculations. “Which I don’t. What time we ‘eadin’ back?”

Hawthorne settled into her chair and checked the restraints were working now. “Soon as the repairs are done,” she sighed. “I have time to spend with my husband.”