RETURN TO KARRIN

[Welsh Halfwit]

THIRTY-EIGHT

Talitha waited by the door to cargo bay three and played with a yo-yo as she waited for Cassius to enter the situation. It was an affectation she’d picked up on the station in the hours between assignments. Here she’d been a pilot, a medical orderly, a cooks assistant and she’d worked on the wiring when they’d had a power failure in the crew quarters. She was exhausted but doing more here than she ever had on the station. She felt needed. She felt enthused. She felt… overdressed as she saw Cassius in his lift trousers and thin top. He’d changed from earlier. “I don’t think you’re dressed for this,” the Mican observed, checking her out in her U.S.C. uniform. “You’ll get it all mucked.” He pulled around the bore equipment he had with him to deliberately show off his musculature. “Sample boring is dirty work.”

“Why does it need doing,” she asked, looking to learn. “I’d figure the companies would do their own.”

Cassius leaned against the wall and thought out his words. “Companies try to screw each other all the time,” he told her blithely, “if they can. Mining companies tell the buyers on other worlds they’ve got high quality ore and ‘it’s the best in the sector’ and all that sort of guff. Trying to drive the price up. The companies want as much as they can get for as cheap as they can get it so they’ll claim it’s lower quality and worth? Less. So neither side trusts the others analysis.”

Talitha put a hand up in the air.

“Yes, the beautiful Feline in the blue.”

Talitha blushed slightly and tried to get her question out through the chuckle. “And they both trust us?”

“Us, eh,” Cassius smirked. “Not entirely. That’s why they both often request bank details to check if we’re being paid for more than providing transit. We’re the third party. So,” he finished, “we go in, take several samples from different sections and levels of ore and run that through the quality surveyor systems. “

Talitha nodded. “If we get a high percentage of higher quality readings from the tests they pay more and…”

“...less for lower, yeah.” Cassius claimed. “Now, go get your dungarees on and teeth protectors on. You’re gonna get filthy.”

Talitha was shocked. Not by the idea of dirt but by her banter response of ‘only if you’re lucky’ as she left.


Thirty minutes later she knew why he’d suggested it. They were both dark grey now, plastered with dust and dirt as between the two of them, they held the borer straight, hands almost touching on the rim as the machines’ cutting circle dug down through the loosely assembled rock until it reached twenty feet, the depth Cassius had decreed for this, the fourth of the samples. The machine juddered and vibrated, sending the ripples straight up their arms and through their bodies, fizzing the fur and juddering the teeth until it stopped. “Want me to hold it up this time,” she asked shakily. She’d been thankful for the teeth protectors. Wearing the plasticated implements over her teeth had stopped her biting her tongue in half at least six times in the last half hour and she was getting used to talking with them in now.

“Be an idea,” Cassius replied, speaking as though he’d worn these things for years. “You’re taller than me.”

So deigned, Talitha strained to show off her muscles now, as Cassius employed the bucket end to engage a cutting forcefield at the bottom of the drill shaft. The machine lifted up several feet into the air and the drill shaft began to retract, pushing ore off onto the top of the pile next to the pair until the last few inches appeared, which Cassius shifted into a box for checking before Talitha put the device down.

Cassius looked at her and laughed. “My mother,” he said, “used to say ‘never date anyone with different colouration to you’. She never thought it’d go well.”

“So,” Talitha asked, feeling the strain in her arms.

“She’d let me date you now.”

Talitha paused in her arm rubbing, thought on things, decided ‘what the heck’ and pulled him in for a kiss.


Ten minutes later Cassius passed by Raspberry on his way to his room and the sonic shower. She looked around as he passed and noted the handprints on the back of his vest. She rolled her eyes and continued on her way.


Darby was something of a dustbowl as far as Postain could see. His pilot brought the shuttle down towards the landing zone designated by the Darbinean president and Postain couldn’t help but notice the thirty or so thin soldiers, their uniforms baggy on them, and wondered if they were a smaller colony than Karrin. They didn’t look quite so badly off as the Karrineans had been when they arrived. He mentioned that to the Cadan sat beside him. “Colony’s never gotten over ninety thousand,” the Cadan announced. “They were quite isolationist to begin with. Immigration restrictions were quite severe so they could manage their own economy. Holdaymakers are fine but, beyond that..? You really need to be a shipyard engineer or weapons manufacturer … Or did so. Now..?” He shrugged. “Dunno. But they probably won’t be happy to see you. And don’t underestimate their weapons.”

“Understood,” Postain replied simply as Xarra brought the ship in for landing.


The Micans were already there. Darlington stepped back as Postain introduced himself to Colony President Ulage, offering a toy starship. “It has become a tradition from our first arrival on Karrin,” Postain explained.

“Then I shall accept it in the same manner they presumably did on Karrin,” the older Female Jestavanian said in a bored tone. “I am sure one of my Grandchildren will play with it. You are Cadan Kayblee,” she said, looking over the Rottian’s shoulder at her kin.

“Indeed, ma’am,” the Cadan replied, bowing formally. “I am speaking for the Star Council. This is a gift from ourselves and the Captain here,” he added, patting a portable replication system he’d been carrying. “It can make food for the talks.”

“Noted. Good job you’re not speaking for the Darbineans,” Ulage huffed, glaring at Darlington. “To you I say the people here will fight.” She brought out a sly smile with a twinkle in her eye. “And we can do some considerable damage if we need to.” She gestured towards the nearby spaceport. “We can talk there. The Conference centre is available.”


They walked, Darlington helping with the Replication machine.


Having stayed in the shuttle, ‘Pilot’ Xarra used the teleport system to send something into the storage bay of the Mican shuttle before putting a chair out and sitting in the Darbinean sunshine with a cold, replicated, drink and sunglasses.

[Amazee Dayzee]

So far everything seems to be going fine with no trouble anywhere. I am sure that will change soon but I am just gonna enjoy the ride. Great chapter!

[Welsh Halfwit]

THIRTY-NINE

One word came to mind when Captain Postain looked around the conference centre at the Spaceport and he had to think to bring the word to the front of his mind. Understaffed was the word. There was barely anyone here as they’d sat and discussed things with anger and resignation as Darlington and the President angrily threw accusations at each other and threatened equal amounts of annihilation. “Perhaps you would care for a demonstration,” she accused, standing to put her fists down on the table. “Believe you me, I have been itching to show you what we can do since you got here. It’s only the presence of the U.S.C. ship that arrived yesterday and approached with respect that we have not done so…” she coughed. “...before. But we are certainly ready.”

“And all to eager,” Darlington countered. “But I have enough ships to level the entire surface of this planet if I choose to!”

“A bit stupid if you plan to rule it,” Postain said, feigning boredom. He spun a padd around on the table. “Bluster, hyperbola and vanity, from both of you – if you’ll pardon my saying, madame President. You don’t want a war and he,” he continued, indicating Darlington, “doesn’t want to blast a planet to dust if he’s supposed to be staking a claim for Mica.” He looked around to Darlington. “What is it you really want, Admiral?”

The Admiral took a drink of water. “Our people need new world,” he stated, “places to feel safe. To run. To play.”

“To really honk me off with *$^”talk,” Postain interrupted. “There’s hundreds of worlds being terroformed at the moment for colonisation.”

“Which will be split between the races,” Darlington stormed, irritated at the interruption. “Fifteen for Celicans. Twenty for Canines! Two to be run by Humans! The Micans need more than the share being ‘gifted’ to us by the Council! We need our own planets, under our own rules. Free from the overbearing rules set down by the Council. Spaces where we can be free to be ourselves! Spaces to…”

“Breathe,” Postain asked. “The line of aggressors through space and history. Long range probes over the years have identified thirteen planets suitable for colonization between Mican space and here so why haven’t you chosen them to colonize?”

“They were deemed unsuitable,” Darlington protested.

“You mean they didn’t have a moon stuffed with valuable minerals,” The Cadan replied. He indicated Postain. “I saw the reactions on his people’s faces when they saw how the scans of the moon, Ma’am,” he said as he addressed Ulage. “To us they’re fairly routine elements but, to these people, they’re rare as Palktrick’s Naylakans. And the Cadan… Captain here doesn’t even seem to be interested in it.” He picked up a doughnut and examined it, sniffing it once before licking it and then, when he wasn’t instantly struck by poison, taking a small bite.

“Your moon, yours by right,” Postain grumped. “Up to you what you do with it.”

“I have no clue what you’re on about,” Darlington declared.

“Why do none of your ships have standard terraforming technology,” Ulage asked sweetly, helping herself to a Karrinean Gorrik flan from the replication machine. A glowing counter on the machines side indicated it was down to the last three charges as she half grinned at the Mican Admiral. “Didn’t know we could scan you, did you?”

The Admiral stayed quiet.

“You’re interested in obtaining new planets, yes,” she stated, “but you’re not that interested in doing the work for it, are you? You want somewhere that’s already set up for your comfort and to provide a safe base for your operations. Darby has little interest in the actions of outsiders, Admiral, Captain. Just as we have little interest in the interminable conflict that has kept the Star Council and the tourists out of our fur. Believe it or not Cadan…” She chuckled. “Excuse me, I mean Catain, we are overjoyed that you bring us good news of Karrin and the fact you got to them in time but we long ago developed the ability to protect ourselves.” She looked at a report handed to her by a functionary and signed it before returning it to her. “I would suggest looking elsewhere to base your colony, Admiral,” she finished, standing up. “Cadan Kayblee, would you walk with me for a few?”

He fell in besides her as she headed out . Postain instinctively checked for devices.

“I don’t know why the Council has to involve itself in Mican affairs,” Darlington groused.

“”If you don’t know that,” Postain replied, “you’re even more dangerous than I thought.”


Willa dressed in her best outfit for the date she’d arranged with Kelvan and put the best necklace her parents had brought from the Rodomont. She was a bit apprehensive about going out to one of the Karrinean restaurants but had been mollified by the fact that her dad and Kelvan’s were acting as chaperones come security for the pair. Plus she’d spoken to Mr Kohlich on several occasions and heard him talk in the school room so she wanted to experience some of the culture and here she was, getting dressed in a blue dress and shirt in an office bathroom, just outside a toilet cubicle. She smoothed down her headfur and stepped towards the door to go back to the requisitioned office that her family were calling home right now. The noise was high, as it had been ever since the families had descended on the embassy and she closed the door on some of it before turning around and seeing Kelvan in a light linen suit, holding up a green Chaffaner flower Brigid had told him to hand to Willa upon meeting but, with his first sight of her in the dress, his brain had flash frozen until Frank gave him a not entirely unnoticed elbow in the back to get him moving. “Is that for me,” Willa asked, trying not to laugh at his gorm free face. “Is that for me,” she asked.

“Uh, y...yeah,” he stammered. “The, uh, second most beautiful thing in the room should have the second most beautiful…. No, wait. I mean that the other way around…”

“My boy,” Frank whispered to Willas’ father. “Totally useless without adrenaline…”

Kelvan handed over the flower and almost froze in shock as Willa kissed his cheek. “Thanks,” she said, putting it on the ship provided cot that was her bed, “I’ll find somewhere to put it when we get back.” She offered her arm and, suddenly remembering his manners, Kelvan took it.

“Is it far, this place,” Mr Kindale asked, a little nervous about being out in public.

“Just down the street,” Frank told him. “Apparently someone from Ship security will be there too.”


It was, indeed, just down the street and the quartet entered a moderately lit environment with the smells of spices and herbs and meats and… ooh, everything, tinging the air and a small selection of Karrinians sat at several tables who went quiet as they arrived, leaving the conversation between a Karrinean in a wheelchair and a female Brockian as the only conversation until one of the Karrineans stood up and stepped over, trying to bypass Frank as he stepped between the Karrinean and the children. The local knelt down so it was clear who he was addressing. “I grieve for your losses and that a Karrinean should have done this. They do not speak for any Karrinean I know.” Now he stood up and faced Frank and Mr Kindale. “Eat all you wish,” he said. “You will not be charged.” He stepped back to his table.


The quartet took up their table and ran their text translators over the menu.

[Amazee Dayzee]

You know when given the opportunity to eat as much as they want to eat that they will probably eat them bare right? Or at least try too.

If they are anything like Elena is in real life. She NEVER turns down any food. That's why she's a bit chunky.

[Welsh Halfwit]

And why is the Darbinean president unafraid? She has something you may recall from a somewhat earlier story up her sleeve...

[Amazee Dayzee]

Unfortunately I don't recall so I am in the dark but that is because once I read something after a while I forget about it. I am one of those people who is a one-and-done. Once I am finished with it I don't go back to it.

[Welsh Halfwit]

FOURTY

With Postain doing Captainny things and Xarra doing… things that weren’t to be talked about, Maldak was in the kind of enjoyable position of being in charge. Sitting in the big chair. Head honcho. The numero uno. The only one whose consoles main purpose could be replicated near perfectly from the Captains arm rest. She couldn’t quite get over the fact she’d only been ‘promoted’ because her console matched. But here she was, singing in the chair and hoping the two senior bridge officers didn’t somehow walk in and see her playing and not paying attention to the armada in front of her. “Any movement out there,” she asked Bartleby as the Lappinean tried to pretend she hadn’t been reading a Lappinean love novel on a padd.

She’d set the alert system up to beep if any of the Mican vessels had powered up their engines or weapons so she’d had a few minutes of doing absolutely nothing and had gotten distracted. “Uh, nothing that I can detect,” she told her ‘captain’ as Kridd worked on his console.

“What’s up with you, Kridd?”

“Oh, I’m just still wondering about these readings from the moon,” the nervous scientist offered. “There’s just something off about them. I don’t know what.”

Maldak nodded. Postain sometimes said that, when you discover gold, make sure it’s not just foil covering chocolate. It informed decisions and reminded them all that, despite being tolerant to it to a large degree, the Captain really didn’t like the taste. “I’ll contact the Decarta and see if they ran any scans or anything.”


The Decarta reported that they’d done a few scans and had been in the process of sending out a shuttle for low level scans but that ground control had told them, in no uncertain terms, that they weren’t to go near the moon. A sacred site or something. The shuttle had taken a bare few minutes of video but they didn’t have the facilities to fully analyse the images so Maldak had grinned and delegated to send the file to Science Chief Tavin. Who’d grinned and delegated to send the file to Levan and order him and Greedan to examine the file image by image to see if there was anything… odd about it.


“Define odd,” Greedan asked, sipping his drink through the sealed straw cup as they scoured the first of the sharp images for anything that didn’t look like the surface of a quarry.

“Anything that doesn’t look like like rocks, I think,” Darren replied, eating an omelette sandwich carefully as he turned the colour off. “Things can look different in black and white,” he said after swallowing.

“Like the Mephidians,” Greedan joked.

Darren laughed. “That’s the first joke I’ve heard you say.”

“Well, I did as you suggested last night,” the hybrid told him as they took a look at the second image to scour it for information. It was almost the same as the first, just moving a few feet and exposing a bit more of the horizon. “I asked Nurse Yinda if she’d go out on a date with me.”

“Behind Flakk’s back,” Darren replied, quirking his lip.

“I’m not brave enough to do it in front of him.” Greedan took another sip from his drink. “More rocks and space dust. Can’t we do this faster?”

“What did she say,” Darren asked, wondering if they could do a half speed run. They’d still have to run a frame by frame, terminally boring work that was why Tavin had given it to the pair of them but it might bring things into focus faster.

“If we survive this,” Greedan remarked, twiddling the knob to turn the colour off as he looked sideways to Darren, “we’re going for coffee. She likes the tag. Says it makes me a ‘bad boy’.”

Darren coughed on his sandwich and had to wipe bits of egg off the console.


President Ulage kept her hands behind her back as she walked with Cadan Kayblee, out of the aliens hearing and amongst the unused canteen pots and pans. “Do you trust these aliens, Cadan?”

He looked over at the others. “No,” he said declaratively. “I honestly don’t. They’re both talking colonisation. The difference is, I think, the aliens I’ve been travelling with seem to want expansion by peaceful means if they can. The other Micans – this main group - are ready to kill anyone who stands against them.”

“Which is why the others came.” She smirked, her thin, aged, features lightening slightly. “Stopping them by putting their bodies on the line. I appreciate the bravery, if not the need for it. But, if they’re the good ones, why is one of their ships hiding on the other side of the planet? Yes, we know about it. Our defence teams are wondering what to do about it.”

“I’d leave it for now,” the Cadan advised. “Postain explained it on the way here. One of the tenets of warfare against a superior force in their dictates is the principle that removing the enemy’s commander in the field will create disarray in the forces.”

She shook her head. “I suppose I understand. I’m not a military leader, you understand, but I know that, in parliament, the opposition has the right to attack my government or to attack ME. Dislodge me and they can take advantage of disarray and infighting. If we need to defend ourselves… I’ll tell the controllers to try to miss them.”

The Cadan looked at her curiously. “Why do I feel there’s something you’re not telling me,” he asked.

“Presidential privilege, Cadan,” she remarked slyly.



“These images are all blending together,” Darren confessed, his muzzle in his hands as he struggled to stay focussed as the video played again.

“Yeah,” Greedan agreed, running the video again in monochrome. “Hold on,” he said boredly, “what was that?”

Darren perked up his ears as Greedan rolled the video back several frames and moved it forward, frame by frame. It was only there for a few seconds, revealed in the ridge line the shuttle had passed over . A small structure that piqued Darren’s memory. He’d seen something like it before. In the files perhaps? It was linked to something, wasn’t it? His memory refused to confirm or deny so he ran it through the computer photo memory banks to see if anything similar was recorded. It took two minutes to scan every file in memory until it came up with something that bore a close match. “Pictures from the ship of Maze Hardy,” Darren read from the legend. “Flight leader, U.S.C. Loper.”

“Does it say when,”

“Yeah, yeah. Council official date…” He stopped, his face frozen whilst pointing a finger at the screen. After a few seconds he started again. “That can’t be right,” he breathed.

“What,” Greedan implored.

“This stardate,” he intoned, “is when the Loper was out of the patch on a mission to see if anyone was out there. This stardate is…” he paused and entered a few commands for confirmation. “The date they found a whole shipyard of ships stolen from across the universe.” He looked directly at Greedan, the fear showing in his eyes. “This is part of the apparatus they found that stole those ships...”

[Amazee Dayzee]

I am loving each and every new chapter of this story! Your work really keeps getting better! ^_^

[Welsh Halfwit]

See what I meant about a familiar thing from an earlier story?

[Amazee Dayzee]

I am starting to see it now. Will I be seeing some more of it in the next chapters?

[Welsh Halfwit]

FOURTY-ONE

The Feline Science Chief looked annoyed but, then, to Greedan she never looked anything else. He tried to think of what might have irritated her more. The fact that she’d assigned them a complete waste of time project and they’d aced it or the fact that, under his recommendation, Darren had let the bridge know they’d found something before they’d let her know? He’d convinced his gentle brother with the logic that Maldak would want to inform the Captain of this as soon as she could but he felt that Tavin would probably as much of the credit for herself and, at best, the whole department. “Is that it,” she demanded of Darren. “Three seconds of a fuzzy building?”

“Three seconds in which it’s clearly identifiable and so are the pipes from the place across the surface to this cliff,” Darren advised, pointing to the line leading across the surface from the structure.

“The Varkonians built their own control centre,” Tavin protested.

“I’m told they were barely space going,” Greedan cut in. Tavin glared at him but he was determined to go on as Darren was there, needing his support. “Is it likely they could have built a moon station and power links to an ancient power station?”

Tavin glowered. Her lower lip twitched slightly, creating a slight popping sound as the lips separated. “Conceded, Greedan,” she groused. “It’s possible. Levan, you willing to state this officially?”

Typical Feline, Greedan thought. Able to cover her own back.


“What do you guys think,” Maldak asked as she fretted over the information from Levan and the implications. She’d mused aloud about the options she had. She could comm Postain or Xarra but it was almost certain that the Mican vultures would overhear any communications sent in the clear and wonder why they’d be sending encrypted messages if they sent an encrypted message. So she was asking opinions.
“I’d tell them,” Kridd advised her from the sciences station. The meek feline seemed to be inches taller in the chair when the two main officers weren’t around. “You could formulate a subsignal to tell them about it whilst asking an innocuous question?”

“Problem is,” Bartleby commented from the helm, “that it relies on them knowing there IS a sub signal. And I don’t think we have a system set up for that.” She shrugged her slight shoulders. “Could we get him to contact us? The President must have a secure system.”

Maldak mused before opening a channel. “Rodomont to Captain Postain,” she stated. “I’m calling with that status update you requested.”

After a moment, Postain replied. <“This better be important, Commander,”> he intoned, shortening her new rank of Lieutenant Commander as he was perfectly entitled to.

“I’m sorry, sir, but you did tell me the updates took priority over everything. Doctor Flakk states Chief Engineer Harras is responding well to treatment. Chief Yarkin reports two for the Captain’ Court and…”

<“Maldak...”> Postain growled.

“...And Commander Rhew is demanding you contact him about that incident you were asking about?”

A moment of silence as he heard her and she hoped he’d put it together that she was referring to the former first Officer, who’d transferred to the IOC investigation services when he’d gotten his girl pregnant. You only ever talked to IOC on a secure line if you had one.
<“Tell them to stand by,”> he replied. <“I’ll call as soon as I can.”>


“My apologies, Madam President,” Postain said, looking to the Darbinian President. “She’s fairly new to the rank. I did ask her to update me daily at this time.”

“It is of little concern,” she permitted, “we all have new subordinates from time to time. Now, distractions aside, I believe we were discussing the Micans taking residence on Targona IV?”

“A place that has little to attract us to it,” Darlington grumbled.

“And is strategically close to the Mutarra nebula,” the Cadan advised.

“Yes,” Ulage conceded, “but it is close to the mineral deposits on Targona III, an uninhabitable world whereas IV is terraformable. That would take them some time. Time in which the Star Council can reach out and come to agreement, surely?”

“There is something to that,” the Cadan allowed.


“Time for my not-so-sly one on ones with you,” Ulage commented politely. “Setting things straight and all that. Catain Postain,” she asked, quirking a ridge at him. “Perhaps you would accompany me on my rounds?”

She waited on him and he agreed, pondering if he’d get a chance to ask her if he could use a secure comm from her office or vehicle. He joined her over at the window, looking out over the copper toned city and the ring of mountains beyond. “Quite a colony you have here,” he told her honestly.

“We like it,” she admitted, before looking at him from the corner of her eye. “...just the way it is. No newcomers.”

“Believe it or not I get it,” Postain replied. “We saved the Karrineans but may have damaged their culture. I prefer to protect what is.”

“Would you like to use my secure line,” Ulage asked suddenly, smirking slightly at Postain’s shocked face. “I noticed when they mentioned that... Commander? Confusion followed by realisation. Something they don’t want us to know about? Or just the Micans?”

“I… don’t know.” Postain felt there was no point lying to her. Not if he wanted her trust.

“My commline,” she said, taking out something that looked like an old, clamshell type, comm unit. “Secured and genecoded to me.” She took a seat on the opposite side of a small, round, table and held it across towards Postain. “It can’t go outside of ten meldiks.”

Meters, Postain corrected mentally as he tapped in the codes for his secure line.


After Maldak had passed on the message, Postain thanked her whilst looking at the glinted humour in the President’s eye. He hung up.

“So,” she said, “now you know we can protect ourselves.”

“Have you managed to get inside the complex?”

“That would be telling, Captain.”

“Then that’s a no. We recognise it because we’ve seen one before. In receive mode. It was defective and dangerous, teleporting ships from over a hundred thousand light years away. But we have the files and recordings of the people who went inside.”

The President’s ears pricked up.

[Amazee Dayzee]

This chapter certainly came out exceptional! Can't wait for tomorrows addition to the story!

[Welsh Halfwit]

SO's you know she's mispronouncing Captain deliberately. Seeing if he'll pull her up on it. Which he won't. Not his place to correct a barely friendly President

[Amazee Dayzee]

Do presidents have the power to demote or make Captain's lives hell? That would also be another reason he wants to not start an argument with her. Just wonder how much more he can take.

[Welsh Halfwit]

FOURTY-TWO

Frank kept his head on a swivel as the quartet headed back from the restaurant after a fair meal that made one of them belch behind him. Willa giggled and apologised and Kelvan complimented her on her manners. “Raitchian culture has a belch meaning the food is really special,” he told her, making Frank consider the boy had never belched at any of Hayseed’s meals.

“Liar,” Willa said softly. “How can you belch without a gag reflex?” She tickled his neck carefully, making him smile happily.

“It’s a simple trick,” he replied, taking her hand in his and kissing her knuckles. “For the honour of one you care about. Frank’ll tell you that’s true.”

“It’s true,” Frank said, over his shoulder. “He’s often lied for his mother.” He leaned across to Willa’s father. “I very soon cottoned on, of course.”

He nodded sagely. “Well, you would, of course.” A corner of his lip twitched upwards. “He’s so bad at it.”

“Only coz I’m learning from a Human,” Kelvan complained, with a tone that betrayed his charm.

“The curse of a good influence,” Willa said, taking her boyfriends arm and squeezing to check his muscles.

“Want to do a tour of the ship when we get back,” Frank offered, inclining his head back towards the kids. “Give them a short while ‘alone’ whilst Enzo and his mother are down here?”

They entered the compound. Willa commented that she could hear the noise from here.


Talks had broken up for the night and Postain had returned to his shuttle, where Xarra was sunning herself with a reflective board in the last of the rays. “Any visitors, pilot,” he asked, “fully aware of the real rank of the Officer on the lounger.

“No, sir,” she said, writing ‘directional mike’ on the board in fur lotion before getting up. “All quiet. Might I ask how the talks went,” she asked as she closed up the lounger and took her glasses off.

“You can ask,” Postain grumped as Kayblee caught up.

The Cadan panted for a few seconds before talking. “I was… encouraged to return to your ship,” he puffed as he regained his breath and straightened up. “To keep an eye on you aliens of course.”

“I suppose we can put up with you for a night or so longer,” Postain groused, heading into the ship.

“I could put up with you for longer,” Xarra remarked, making him start in surprise as she picked the lounger up and followed the Captain into the vessel. He cocked his head at her slight frame and put a finger to his teeth in contemplation. She wasn’t exactly attractive to his eye but, as a Cadan, he wasn’t allowed to sleep with any of the females under his command. Might she fill that role for a night? He supposed he could always ask. After the work was done and the aliens were leaving, of course. He followed her up into the ship and took up his seat. He’d noticed the President and the Captain seemed to have been a bit more… enthused about things after they’d come back and he was certain Darlington had noted it as well, based on the hint of frostiness from the whitefur and he wondered what they’d talked about. If it had been the same thing she’d talked with him about? He wasn’t sure he’d exactly be happier on return. She’d taken Darlington aside for one of her ‘chats’ and he’d been anxious to ask the Rottian Canine about it but he’d resisted the temptation. Darlingtom had left his swagger stick behind. It was an odd thing to bring to a negotiation and it just have contained a recording device. “So, what did you think of President Ulage,” he asked, sensing Postain would only tell him what they’d discussed when he wasn’t on the planet.

“Tough,” Postain allowed as Xarra cleared them for take-off. “Determined. No fan of aliens… and I mean non Darbinians in that, not just us. She’s to be respected.”

“Thanks, Darby control,” Xarra replied before lifting off and heading for the mountains beyond as they continued talking of Ulage. “I put the tracer in the Mican shuttle,” she told the others after they were out of visual contact.

“So that’s an Admiral’s shuttle,” The Cadan asked.

“Yes. He’ll take it with him wherever he goes. So we’ll know when he changes his ship. As he will. But that’s not what we discussed when we talked. Maldak got in contact, needing a secure line.”

“Which only the President has, probably,” Xarra put in.

“Right. Don’t stray out of the flight lane they assigned, Xarra. We really don’t want them annoyed at us.”

The Cadan leaned back and laughed. “So she told you what they have on the moon?”

Postain grunted in assent.

“You believe her?”

“We’ve encountered a similar device before. I can tell you about it later but I’ll say this. That thing is VERY dangerous.”

The Cadan was interested and was about to lean forward when Xarra pulled the shuttle up sharply and pushed for the edge of the atmosphere.


“Welcome aboard,” Charlie stated, casting her eye over Willa, who stepped forward to offer a hand. The Raitchian accepted the hand and didn’t resist as the feline pulled at the arm to bring her face closer. She allowed the girl to rub cheeks with her and slyly kissed her cheek. “I hear you’ve got my boys’ jacket,” she asked, straightening up.

“Oh, do I still have that,” she asked innocently. “I’ll have to give it back someday.” She slid away as her father offered a hand.

“Welcome aboard,” Charlie repeated.

“You said that.”

“I know. I admit I still get a bit nervous around big Felines. I tend to repeat myself. Don’t I, Frank? Don’t I?”

“On occasion,” Frank replied as Cassius walked in with the defused bomb. “What… are you doing with that?”

“Is that a bomb,” Mr Kindale asked, slightly nervously.

“Yeah,” Cassius replied. “Don’t worry, it’s deactivated. One of my specialities.” He placed the device on the teleport station and headed over to the controls. “I’ll send it to the edge of the atmosphere so the friction of the fall should set it off if anything will.”

“Anyone notice the kids have vanished,” Frank asked.


They were to be found in Kelvan’s bedroom, leaving the door open for everyone else’s convenience. They were kissing.

[Harry Johnathan]

“Raitchian culture has a belch meaning the food is really special,” he told her, making Frank consider the boy had never belched at any of Hayseed’s meals.

Oh my lord they're Chinese.

[Amazee Dayzee]

You say that like its a bad thing. What is wrong with the Chinese?

[Welsh Halfwit]

FOURTY-THREE


Three in the morning, ship time, was always one of Postains least favourite times. It was the time of the night shift, when Ensign Passerton was in charge on the bridge and only one eighth of the normal crew were running about the halls. It was a time of silence and the Rottian had found the best way to get through it was to sleep through it. So that’s what he did most nights. Some nights were easier than others as dreams woke him on varied occasions, often to do with mistakes he’d made in his career or crewmen he’d lost. Just recently they’d included Chichester being pregnant with his pups and almost screaming at the size, something Flakk had told him could be an issue but they had ways of dealing with that, even if the baby were to be removed and placed in an incubator. Then there was that weird one in which Chichester left him for her political opponent and declaring they were setting up a unity government. That one had freaked him out because there was no logical reason for it.

He couldn’t take sleeping tablets because he was on call all the time, which is why he was accessing the files on the Varkonian device to decide what to take to the President on the next trip. He had a toy spaceship to insert the files into as a disguise but wasn’t looking to give her full files just yet.


And the comm beeped. This was the other reason he hated three in the morning, ship time. When the comm beeped at this hour, it was never anything good. He answered. It was Passerton. <“Sorry to disturb you, Captain,”> the Lappinean said, <“I thought you should know. The Micans have launched a couple of shuttles towards the moon.”>

Postain cursed in his mind. He could only think they’d found out about the device somehow and had chosen now precisely because they knew it was nighttime on the U.S.C. ship. Reactions were slowed by the Command being asleep. But he wasn’t. So there were no delays. “Launch the alert fighters,” he ordered. “order them to blockade that moon. It’s of cultural significance to the Darbinians. Make it an open signal so everyone knows what we’re doing. I’ll be there in ten.” He snapped the line off and dressed as quickly as he could, finishing the tea he’d made before putting on a fresh jacket and stepping out.


With fewer people in the hallways, Postain was able to maintain a faster pace as he made his way through them to the lift car. He went up one floor and came out on floor three, close to the bridge. Senior Command and Control staff all lived within a short distance of the bridge for expediency and he stepped onto the bridge floor within twenty seconds of leaving the lift. He noted from the display that the fighters were on their way, pushing to get into position and overtaking the shuttles. He couldn’t help notice there were more fighters than he’d planned out there. He assumed the Decarta had added forces. He grumbled and tapped his wrist comm. “Postain to Wing Commander Appleby,” he said, his lips barely moving as his eyes never left the screen.

A tired sounding Castoran replied. <“Senny Appleby here,”> she said.

“We’re blockading the moon,” Postain told her straight, without explanation. “The Decarta has added fighters…”

<“Right,”> Senny interrupted and Postain heard the sounds of bedsheets being thrown back and the Castoran levering herself out of the marriage bed. <“You need your senior over there to maintain control. Be there soon.”>

She hung up and Postain looked around to see if anyone was looking at him so he could glower at them for her cheek. Not finding a victim, he chose to pass the annoyance on to the Micans and told the comms officer to signal the Mican fleet. Again in an open signal. He straightened himself up and made sure his jacket was on straight.

“You’re on, sir,” the comms officer… Dappleby, wasn’t it… told him.

Postain stood, hands behind his back, just above his short tail as Darlington appeared on screen, looking annoyingly fresh faced. “The Darbinians regard the moon as a sacred site,” he stated. “As such, no-one is permitted near it under U.S.C. ordinance fourteen seventy-five, sigma fourty-five, chapter three, section thirty-one.”

<“We are NOT in Council space,”> The Mican declared. <“We are not subject to those rules out here.”>

“Too bad for you that I am,” Postain declared darkly. “As a matter of point, out here, I am the senior officer. Therefore,” he added, leaning in towards the screen, “I AM the Council out here. I will obey Council laws and restrictions. AND SO WILL YOU. Any vessel approaching that moon will be turned back. Any vessel attempting to run the blockade will be disabled and a shuttle dispatched from here to return the occupants to you.”

<“This is exactly the kind of high handed attitude we’ve come to expect from the Council,”> Darlington thundered angrily. <“This is exactly why we are expanding outside the Council range!”>

“And deciding your needs overrule the wishes of the local populace is exactly the sort of arrogance I have come to expect from YOU, ‘Admiral’,” Postain replied. “You’re determined to get into a conflict. ANY conflict! Because you believe you can win! And you might. At the start. But you will see your forces destroyed in the end. Your own people are already working to distance themselves from you, Admiral. You’ll be on your own out here. Against us AND the Star Council. No back up. No help. No retreat. Are you that anxious to have your whole armada slaughtered or taken to Star Council prison camps? Are they ready for that?” Postain snickered internally as he saw Darlington suddenly realise the reason Postain had left the channel open to all listeners. Every command officer and their seniors had heard Postains’ words and taken them in.

<“We want what they have, Captain,”> Darlington warned. <“We mean to have it.”>

“Uh, Captain,” the Officer on sciences said hesitantly.

Postain turned to face her, A Raitchian called Ferrik, as he recalled. His face told her that this had better be important. “Um, if… if they mean to have it we might… might give it to them? Because…”

“Yes,” he prompted.

“Well, from these scans, sir? It’s powering up...”

[Amazee Dayzee]

Can Postain ever talk with someone without being scary and imposing? It seems like that is his default unfortunately. Wouldn't be surprised if it was like that when Elena dated him.

[Welsh Halfwit]

Rat chat time.

FOURTY-FOUR

“So,” Enzo asked, getting changed for bed in his temporary digs, pulling his trousers down and kicking them into a corner as Kelvan buttoned up a night shirt, “what did Willa think of the ship?”

“The bits of it she saw,” Kelvan replied, a sly smile spreading across his face as he chatted with his best friend and pulled his pyjama bottoms on, putting his tail through the elasticated hole at the back, “I think she liked. Especially the secret garden.”

Enzo hopped into his bottoms and paused with one leg still half raised. “Why do you keep calling it that? Everyone knows about it.”

“Tradition,” Kelvan told him, lying back on his bed. “We know about it, yeah. But so few others do, eh?” He propped himself up on an elbow as Enzo tried to make himself comfortable in the cot. “The room doesn’t show up on any blue prints and even the door only officially leads to a closet.”

Enzo shifted in the cot bed. “Mom was happy,” he agreed, almost tipping the bed as he turned to face the slightly bigger Raitchian. “You have a Damzarian Hotstar plant in there. She’s never been able to find one in the patch. Cassius says he’ll give her a cutting.”

Kelvan chuckled. “About right. Cave rescue, Bomb disposal, general maintenance and born gardener. Look,” he continued, “you gonna get comfortable or what?”

Enzo groused. “CAN you get comfortable in these things?”

“Dunno,” Kelvan fibbed, “never been in one.” He sighed. “Look, you’re my best friend, yeah?” Enzo nodded a ‘yeah’. “Practically a brother, yeah?” Again, Enzo replied in the affirmative. Kelvan lifted the duvet. “Mum tells me she regularly shared a bed with her brothers when she was our age. C’mon. There’s room.”

“I don’t…” Enzo said, before realising he did and slipped off the cot and settled into the side of the bed Kelvan wasn’t using before the other put the duvet down on top of him. “Thanks,” he said comfortably.

“What else are brothers for,” Kelvan said, shifting so they were lying side by side. “You wanna put the light out?”

“It’s ugly and doesn’t illuminate the room,” Enzo offered, starting the pair laughing, a sound which continued after he raised his hands and clapped them together twice to turn the light off.


Brigid was still up, hanging around the bridge and wandering the ship until Charlie caught her up. “Worried about… wassisname? Marty?”

“Martin,” Brigid replied, knowing full well Charlie had got the name wrong deliberately. “Well, of course I am. Wouldn’t you..?”

Charlie took her arm gently and led her to the closed canteen area. Hayseed could be heard somewhere, gently snoring, as Charlie got two sachets of instant coffee and made them both a cup. “Sweetener,” she asked, “mi..?” She looked at the bottle. “White fluid?” rigid accepted the ‘white fluid’ but not the sweetener and Charlie brought them over to the table. “I know the feelings,” she explained. “Frank used to work security and it’s no co-incidence that he’s hired someone who specialises in cave rescues and bomb disposal,” she grunted. “He says it’s for eventualities but we have more than our fair share of those.”

“You think he’s looking for them,” Brigid asked, sipping the drink, scowling slightly and reaching for the sweetener.

“Heh. Cargo coffee always gets people like that,” Charlie explained. “Replication stuff is less strong unless you ask for it. And there are times. But it’s not quite he’s looking for it.” She sipped her own. “His experiences mean he’s sure he can handle it. Sure he can help. And what’s the definition of the best ones?”

Brigid nodded. “They want to help. They just tend to forget about us behind them, fretting.”

Charlie patted her new friend’s hand. “They never forget. They just want to stop there being another us that doesn’t have their loved one return. He turned it around on me once, y’know?”

Brigid’s ears drooped as she slumped slightly, holding her drink. “Oh, gods, I HATE that. Putting the decision on us. I can stay back if you want me to? I can stop helping?”

“Which is why they don’t ask,” Charlie advised as Frank put his head around the door.


“You’re still up,” he asked rhetorically. “Uh, I’m going to help the Karrineans with the final repairs to the ship we brought in when we arrived.”

Charlie gave a sideways glance to Brigid, who gave her a similar look back. Neither of them quite believed him. “And why,” Charlie asked, absently stirring her coffee with a clawtip, “would they need a freighter Captain to finish repairs?”

“Oh, well, uh,” Franks said, gesticulating, “it’s more, ah, a lack of fully trained crew and…” This time he caught their knowing looks to each other. “There are five ships headed this way from Star Council space,” he explained. “We don’t know what side they’re on. And, as I said, the ships are understaffed and I can help and…”

“Go,” Charlie said, lightness enforced in her tone. “Do your thing and get your tail… less butt back to me. Got it?”

He stepped in, brought her mouth up to his with a hand and kissed her. “Got it. I love you,” he told her.

“Yeah, same.” She winked at him. “Is Osser going with you?”

“No,” Frank told her. “If things come to it, I want my best Engineer watching over the engines. Kelvan can take the wheel and she’ll be in command. That means,” he finished, “that, in an emergency, she’s in charge. Got it?”

“It’ll be one if she is, believe me,” Charlie chuckled, letting him leave the room before she deflated. “See,” she told Brigid, who now reached across to hold her hand. “Them being them is what makes us love them. Even if they do drive us frelchin’ crazy at the same time.”

Brigid put a hand to her mouth at the profanity, then laughed behind it. “They’re our males, aren’t they?”

“Well,” Charlie said, pulling a padd from her bag and using it to turn on the night vision camera in Kelvan’s room. She turned it around so Brigid could see Kelvan and Enzo peacefully asleep together. “They’re two of our males,” she finished as Brigid D’aww’ed at the sight.

[Amazee Dayzee]

That was a really nice chat that they had but back to the urgency of all the other dangers in the story! I am sure you still have some more surprises in store for the readers of your epic!

[Welsh Halfwit]

FOURTY-FIVE

Frank felt conspicuously out of uniform as he stepped onto the bridge of the Larrakaea, the Jestavanian ship the Rodomont had defeated and taken in tow earlier in the mission. The damage to the engines had, largely been repaired by the locals after arrival at the base and she was almost up to spec now, according to what he could understand of their specifications anyhow The air smelled a little stale to him, a little thinner since some of the atmosphere had voided. It was a few degrees warmer than the norm too. Probably more suited for Jestavanians. There were certainly a few of them around, he noted. And a Lappinean from one of the other cargo ships. One of the Jestavanians wearing a yellow trim, indicating he was one of of the new ‘recruits’ to the Militia, turned to look at him. “You’re one of those… Hoomans, aren’t you,” the figure said with displeasure.

“Humans,” Frank corrected, “but yes. I’m one of the ones who came her to help feed the people and found people willing to try to kill my son,” he said evenly. “And I’m still here. Helping to defend this world.”

“Makes me wonder why,” the Officer, one Letnant Krillbee asked, refusing to give an inch in argument, although he almost appreciated the Human’s intent.

“Aren’t I supposed to think the same about you, Letnant,” The new Cadan of the ship asked. “I have a ship of people who are split between local Militia members, recent ‘converts’ to the cause who may well still be loyal to the attackers and a scattering of Aliens. We haven’t got a chance to get to know each other, Letnant. We just have to work with each other. What is it you do, Human?”

“Uh,” Frank started, suddenly realising he was being talked to when the Cadan hadn’t altered his angle to face him, “Security, helm operations and Command,” he said.

“Well, Command’s covered but Security always needs more arms. He stepped to a small arms cabinet to one side and took an energy rifle from it before handing it to Frank. “It’s a stun weapon,” he told him. “I’m trusting no-one THAT much. Go find Cayman Folterra, she’s in charge of security. She’s wearing the…” He tapped the trim… “blue here.”

Frank nodded and headed into the ship as the Lappinean set up at what he assumed was communications, judging by the headgear.


Postain took clear action now, ordering Senny to keep her fighters out of the line of fire of the moon weapon whilst he adjusted the position of the two starships. Senny was still to try to turn back any shuttles of course. He spoke to Darlington again. “Admiral,” he said, eyes wide and teeth near enough clenched, “the weapon is powering up. You need to withdraw your shuttles before the Darbineans decide to act for themselves!”


<“I’m afraid,”> a voice that wasn’t Darlington’s said, <“that the time for demonstrations has begun. I compliment you on your attempts to dissuade them, Captain,”> Ulage said from the surface, <“but they really aren’t getting the hint, are they? Maybe now they will.”> As she stopped talking, a bolt of… something stuck out from the moon installation and cut a swathe through the Mican fleet, catching three ships in its beam that simply… weren’t there any more. <“Darlington,”> she growled, <“you have been warned that this is just one of our weapons. Which you will NOT have.”>

<“You will answer for what you have just done,”> Darlington warned.

“She acted in defence, provoked by you, ‘Admiral’,” Postain snapped as the main bridge crew started assembling, taking the places vacated by the night shift, who readied to take over again if needed. “We stand on the brink of war. I’d suggest you stand down.”

<“We will not…”> Darlington stopped mid sentence as a firearm appeared close to his head. <“What is this, Captain Dunbeath?”>

<“An executive decision, Admiral,”> the female declared. <“You are clearly under a lot of duress and are not fit for command. I am relieving you of command until a medical examination can be carried out.”>

<“This is mutiny,”> the Admiral protested. <“You’ll face the courts for this when we get back! My followers will not let me be treated like this!”>

Postain indicated and Xarra started scanning the Mican ships. Several of them had their weapons powering up. She couldn’t help but notice they were targeting each other. “Move us into the middle,” he instructed Bartleby, “and get the Pollock here. We might as well show our full hand.”

“Do we charge weapons,” Xarra asked, sure that her question was being heard across the void.

“Only when fired upon. Captain Dunbeath,” he continued, attracting her attention. “I see three choices here. You can fight with each other. You can leave. You can join ourselves and the Darbinians in reaching a peaceful resolution. Maybe get that colony you all seem to want. But one thing is certain.”

<“That would be,”> she asked.

“If you people don’t calm things now, a lot of Micans are going to die in the next five minutes. A lot more than didn’t just die on those ships.”

<“We saw them vaporized, Captain.”>

“No,” Postain replied, putting up a hand. “you didn’t. That thing is the same as the Jestavanian device encountered by the Loper a few years ago…”

<“Whatever your other ship may have discovered,”> Ulage put in, <“ours is fully under our control. We don’t want communion with people and we are not prepared to be attacked by you. Your people have been sent to another part of the galaxy. I cannot tell you precisely where but most of them will have survived.”>

<“Can you bring them back?”>

<“We have never had an interest in that.”>

“The one the Loper found was malfunctioning,” Postain remarked, “but it was dragging ships across space to it. There is a possibility but we’d need to work with the Darbinians.”

<“And we’re not going to help anyone engaged in a shooting war in our space,”> Ulage finished.


Three minutes passed in which no-one fired and everyone threatened to and Postain barely breathed. Then Kridd, now at his station after having arrived a minute behind Xarra, reported the ships were powering down, with energy weapons fire only present inside a handful of ships. Postain finally sat in his Command chair. “Do you need our assistance, Dunbeath,” he asked.

<“Not with that,”> she replied, <“I have enough loyal security to handle it. But I’d rather not have the Admiral loose on my ship when I join you on the surface tomorrow. Permission to beam him to your brig?”>

“For security’s sake,” Postain replied, “I’ll have someone come over and get him.” He nodded to Xarra, who headed from the bridge.


Postain hated 3am.

[Amazee Dayzee]

Things always seem to get real late at night so I am sure that there are many people who agree with Postain. Anyway nice chapter that you put up again! ^^

[Welsh Halfwit]

FOURTY-SIX

Frank had made his way back from the bridge in search of the… what was it? Cayman? Wasn’t that an island famed for it’s Non civilised Dogs on Earth in the old days? Perhaps this indicated the smallness of the universe? Or it was just a co-incidence. Anyhow, it was Cayman Faulterra or something. She was wearing blue and currently snapping at him, demanding to know where he was going and pointing a weapon at him. He reasoned that was reasonable as he was holding a weapon. “The, um, Cadan told me to come find you and place myself under your orders.”

“Great,” she sniffed, “just what I need. An offshoot of the Suidanian. You’re gonna leak when things get hot, yeah?”

“I’ll try not to,” Frank replied before his brain caught up with what she’d said. “Wait a minute,” he asked, “what’s a Suidarian?”

“No furs from a world on the other side of the Star Council space. Visited them once some twenty years back. Place stunk. Partly because they leaked water.”

“Sweat.”

“Whatever. Get yourself over there.” She gestured to what looked like engineering. “That gun won’t fire at anyone holding one of our firearms. It knows the codes they generate. So you don’t need to worry about friendly fire.” She paused for a second. “Unless some of this lot have brought their own weapons.”


Frank nodded and made his way into the overly warm engine room and decided that, yup, he was going to leak water in here. One of the defenders of the Engineering crew made his way across. “Guard Yarik,” he said, slapping his hand across his chest.

“Frank Carby,” he replied, repeating the gesture. “Acting Guard.”

“Alien, huh,” the Guard mentioned cheekily. “virus make all your fur fall out or do your people all come like that?”

Frank chuckled. He’d read that Humans got that reaction a lot in the first days. “Many come with less,” he told him, deciding he quite liked this Jestavanian. “Where am I taking station?”

“With me,” the not-a-Brockian replied. “I don’t mind the smell,” he added.

“Heard that, then?”

“Yup. Plus I can see the screen from there.” He tied in to the detection grid and pointed out the five incoming ships on the screen. “We’re not moving out to face them,” he pointed out. “It makes sense. We might have attacked that transport here,” he admitted, “if it weren’t for the defence satellites. Facing an opponent? I’d rather have them with us than against us.”

“You were one of the ones attacking the transport,” Frank asked.

“Didn’t want them hurt but I’m not exactly making policy, am I?”

Frank had to suppose there was truth in that. “How long until they arrive?”

“About three hours.”

Frank mused. “Can I contact my ship?”

“I suppose so,” Yarik said thoughtfully. “Why?”

“Because I want them to leave.”


Talitha flipped several switches as Kelvan took up the co-pilot’s seat. The Passera turned slowly towards U.S.C. space and began to slowly move off station towards home. The boy looked up at the Feline and wondered if she knew she smelled of Cassius. “Are you sure we should be doing this,” he asked.

“Doing what,” Willa asked from the doorway, making Talitha jump.

“What are you still doing here,” she demanded loudly.

“Iwantedto visit thegarden forabit, don’t kill me,” she gabbled like a Chipmunk, her tone rising as she was shouted at. “I cameto see Kelvan too!”

“Alright, alright,” Talitha assured her, slightly flustered herself. “It’s just… unexpected is all.”

“Can I do anything?

“Uh… Give the chef a hand?”

“Um, OK. Sorry,” she added, heading off.

“She stays with your mom,” Talitha told Kelvan. “Aaand I’m probably going to face accusations of kidnapping when we get back.”

Kelvan had to snicker at that. He knew how innocent it was and how it might look. He also knew they’d shortly have to explain things to his mother as he could hear her coming through the ship even now. “So,” he said, loudly, “dad wants us to go and send a message, via that relay thing they set up, that Karrin’s under attack, yeah?”

He indicated his nose and Osser sniffed. “Yeah,” she agreed, “because we need to get the message to him so he can bring back up with him. Because we need the Pollock and the Rodomont back soon as!”

Charlie loomed into the doorway, casting her shadow across the pair of them as Talitha started up the engines to leave orbit and head out. “YOU are supposed to at least consult me before you do anything, Osser,” she thundered, “and you,” she continued, pointing at Kelvan, “are NOT supposed to back her up when she doesn’t!” She played at keeping a totally serious face but couldn’t quite keep it totally straight. “And WHAT is that girl doing on board?”

“She was news to me, mum,” Kelvan protested grimacing. “And, uh, every second counts?”

“The Rodomont’s not going to get here before they arrive,” Charlie protested, pointing at Kelvan.

“Yeah, but they’ll have less time to consolidate if the two big swingers get back earlier,” Talitha added.

Charlie turned her finger to Talitha and waggled it whilst she thought of how to put this. “You should still… Big swingers? Is that official Council talk?”

Talitha shrugged. “Not sure. Right now I don’t much care. Can you maintain the engines at maximum? Our comm system’s not as strong as the Rodomont’s so we need to be closer to the relay station.”

“’Our’ comm system,” Charlie demanded, her tone altering to the vestige of lightness. “I’ll do what I can,” she said, relenting. “Though I can’t account for the eccentricities of the biological component at this end.” She kissed her son on the forehead. “Now I have to account for another minor panic,” she added, not referring to Enzo and his mother, currently running checks over cargo bay 3.

“Charlie,” a Lappinean voice called, “there’s a…. child in my larder!”

[Amazee Dayzee]

Was not expecting the appearance of ANOTHER child in here. This will make things a bit more interesting.

[Welsh Halfwit]

FOURTY-SEVEN

Bartleby piloted the shuttle this time, Xarra being needed on the ship today and the Lappinean was eager for a bit of shore leave, even if it was just going to be a starport concourse. She might be able to pick up some duty free or postal cards. She had a collection of them from various planets, some posted and transported by cargo hauler to pick up starports or space stations but most had never seen a digital stamp. They just provided her with physical memories of the places she’d been, even if they showed places on the places she’d been that were places she’d never been. She dipped under the clouds that were making the streets shiny with rain and engaged the wipers for the first time in months. Maybe she’d just use Xarra’s lounger and feel the rain on her fur…

“Bartleby,” Postain warned, seemingly knowing what she was thinking of. “I am not losing you to pneumonia again, got it?”

“Aye, sir,” she grumbled.

“Phewmonia,” Cadan Kayblee asked, clearly curious about the term.

“I caught a cold,” Bartleby explained over her shoulder. “Sniffing, sneezing and all that?”

“Ah,” the Cadan replied, shaking his head, “Sunnamon.”

“If you say so, sir.”

Both Postain and Kayblee reminded her she shouldn’t call him ‘sir’ as she circled for landing and put the vehicle down amongst the armoured vehicles and troops.

“Is it just me or are there more troops here today,” the Cadan asked Postain rhetorically. It was clear that it wasn’t just him and he must admit, he was a little concerned.

“Well, there was, almost a massive space battle in close orbit a few hours ago,” Postain explained, equally rhetorically as he’d told the Cadan about that an hour or so ago, over his fifth coffee of the morning. Which wasn’t bad for seven in the morning. He’d made sure Yarkin had Darlington sealed away in the brig, under isolation protocols in the sealed cell at the end and, after that, there hadn’t been much point in heading back to bed so he’d been reviewing the Rabbit’s reports on the inside of the Varkonian machine again. He had mixed feelings about giving such people more information than they already had but that was part of the deal he was trying to thresh out and it was only fair they were able to defend themselves. What concerned him was how easily the perfect defence could turn to an effective offence.

“I can’t believe you didn’t wake me up for that,” The Cadan retorted.

“You can see the effect of the Darbinian beam later,” Bartleby told him. “I recorded it.”

“Bartleby…”

“Just sayin’, sir.” She opened the door to let them out.


The Cadan was first and let the rain hit him, a feeling of normality amongst the month of strife. He took two steps towards the Mican shuttle, keeping a wary eye on the trained soldiers with their ready to be trained weapons as Postain stepped to his side. “Was your pilot flirting with me,” he asked Postain cautiously.

“She’s a Lappinean,” he replied quietly. “Half of everything they say is flirting.”


Postain stepped forward and shook the hand of the new Mican. “Captain Dunbeath,” he stated.

“Yes, I was Admiral Darlington’s aide,” she replied, before grimacing slightly, “but I can understand a losing position when I can see it.” She shook the Cadan’s hand in turn. “Darlington’s never really been tested by the prospect of defeat.”

The Cadan could appreciate that, he supposed. The worst Commanders were those who won lots of victories against inferior foes and didn’t know how to handle reversals. Not that he was going to tell this enemy that.


“Are we going to have to leave the ship,” Kohlich asked, about half an hour after Kelly had surprised him with nibbles, his favourite replication meal and non-alcoholic drinks in their living room. She’d dabbed her nose with a handkerchief a few times and smiled at him strangely for three or four minutes before telling him what Flakk had reminded her of and exactly what it meant. He’d swept her into his arms, circled around the room, placed a hand under her tail base and kissed her with pure passion before pulling back and kissing her mouth again, more tenderly this time as she kissed back, laughing and smiling and trying not to cut his tongue with her teeth as she kept her arms around the back of his neck. He’d sat back on the sofa nad slouched across the cushions, her atop him to lie there, feeling the weight of each others warmth and just holding each other until he asked the question.

She propped her elbows on his chest and looked down at him, pushing herself up slightly so she was in direct eyeline. “And do we get married formally, Tarva,” she asked.

“We certainly have the reason now,” he commented, running his hands up and down her sides. “Well, an extra one. But first things first. Do we need to leave the ship?”

She lay against him, feeling his hands move from her sides to her back as she kissed his neck. “It’d certainly be safer for the baby,” she admitted, thinking of the battle they had only just avoided earlier.

“I can get engineering work anywhere,” he said, moving a hand up to stroke her face. “And who wouldn’t want you as a Doctan?”

She grinned and tapped his nose. “Doctor,” she corrected.

“What WAS I thinking,” he asked, twisting around so she was under him before leaning down to kiss her lovingly.


On the bridge, Xarra watched carefully, knowing full well that the Micans would be wondering what she was up to. She fancied she had a reputation amongst her kin. A warrior of intent and purpose and courage who’d forced her way up through the command ranks, using her cunning and skill and determination to push herself up to where she was sat in command of a battleship. What plans did she have, they were wondering? How was she planning to fight? She watched. She considered. She WAS considered.


Down on the ground, the trio walked across the concourse. “So, I hear you have some Mican as your first Officer,” Dunbeath said, looking to start conversation.

[Amazee Dayzee]

This was definitely a very enjoyable chapter! Looking forward to seeing where things go from here!

[Welsh Halfwit]

Poor Xarra(!)

[Amazee Dayzee]

Well it looks like things are gonna get a bit tougher but I have no doubt Xarra will figure it out. So far every character in this stiry is nothing if not resourceful.

[Welsh Halfwit]

FOURTY-EIGHT

Greedan looked over the scans that had been taken of the beam when it had been fired and thought his eyes were going to explode from boredom and overuse as he handled the paper readouts. This was something Tavin approved of, the actual physical records being somewhat easier to read than the visual on the screen. He got it, he really did. It helped against eye strain but it was still… He put the readouts down on the table and groaned theatrically. “This is so boring,” the hybrid told Darren. “what are we getting from this?”

“Guesstimations,” Darren remarked, spinning around in his chair to face his underling/friend. “What do we know about the power of that teleporter weapon?”

“Well,” Greedan mused, gesturing to the paper stack, “it’s pretty much off the charts. Almost overloaded the sensors. Something like ten to the power twenty eight, which is commonly observed as the kinetic energy of a small planetoid.”

“Which is awesome,” Darren interjected.

Greedan nodded. “Too right. That IS awesome. But I don’t get what it tells us. Beyond the builders being unbelievably smart, of course.”

“Well, the sensors record the direction of the beam based on the fact that the starboard side sensors picked it up a fraction of a second later. So we know which way it was going.” Darren looked through the readings Greedan had been going through and appreciated the other Celican’s attention to detail in the number reading. He’d read it already, of course. “It might just be a slight difference in the scanner input,” he confessed, “but you see the final digits here?” He pointed to a very similar number on the readouts he’d been going through. “Furthest sensor recording.”

Greedan picked the papers up and scanned them. Then he looked at his own numbers. Then back at the others. “There’s a fractional difference before it cuts into subspace” he confessed.

Darren spun around in the chair. “Might indicate anything.” He stopped himself by putting hands on the console. “Might mean that the thing has a distance limit. Or it can be set to run out. So, what does direction and power reduction get us?”

Greedan thought on it for a moment before nodding happily. “A possible destination.”

“Why do you think it cut into subspace?”

Greedan spun around in his chair this time and put a finger in the air. “The total lack of planets devastated by energy beams and ships smashing into them at high velocity was a clue, my dear Levanson!”

“OK, Greelock,” Darren countered. “Set up the computers to formulate their end positions.”

Greedan sagged and looked at him open mouthed. “That’s a Moriarty move!”

“Nah,” Darren joked, tapping a button to show a digital readout that zoomed out and out across space, with the Rodomont at the centre. “Moriarty would have worked it out before he asked. Working on this, they’re about eighty -five thousand light years away. It’ll take them about thirty years at top speed to get back.” He clapped his hands together. “I hope they take scans.”


“I’m not stupid enough to want to try and take this place,” Dunbeath told Ulage as they sat. “There’s a few planets we can work on a little way away.”

“Then what,” the elder Darbinean asked, leaning forward across the table, “are you doing here, Captain? Come to apologise for your Admiral’s actions?” He stood away from the table, stepping over to the window to look out on the rain stained scenery before she stepped back. “There’s a lot to be apologised for.”

“He’s always been driven by glory, for the people and himself,” Dunbeath admitted. “but he lands me in a bind. The admiralty isn’t exactly going to welcome us back with open arms and we’re not, as I believe you told the Admiral, bedecked with terraforming equipment so…” She looked embarrassed and wrung her hands together until the Cadan implied she probably shouldn’t do that as it implied she was after a fight. “I… was, er, hoping you could loan us some?”

Ulage laughed as Postain spulttered on his drink. Of all the things the Rottian had been expecting, that wasn’t one of them. “A towal for the good Catain,” she said to her orderly. “Please, Dunbeath, elaborate.”

Dunbeath took a breath and ordered her thoughts. “Well, we, uh, noticed this world…” She brought up a padd showing a grey and blue world on it, orbiting a pale yellow sun.

“Ah,” the Cadan stated, “Yarktina. That’s what we call it. We thought about colonising it some time back but it seemed too far out.”

Ulage took a quaff from the beverage she’d brought from home as a server dealt with the spill from Postain. “You’re thinking of taking that world? It’s always taking, isn’t it? And you’re going to want our support and our materials? You’re going to ask us to give them to you?” She put her hands together. “Would you care to say why we would do such a thing?”

Dunbeath fidgeted in her seat. “Well, uh…” a smile slipped onto her face, then fell off and travelled up to her eye before vanishing completely as she trembled. “...we could… do a mutual defence treaty? Not, uh, that you need it but… friends are good, right? And… and we can trade goods and, uh, technologies…”

“How’s that going on Karrin, Catain,” Ulage asked Postain. “I understand not everyone supports the spoiling of the culture?”

Postain was thinking of correcting her pronunciation of his rank but there was little point in contradicting her. “You’re in a much stronger positions,” he conceded, “you’d probably influence theirs as much as they do yours. More so, perhaps. The Council wouldn’t sanctify their colony either. In fact they’d be disowned. And the other races would ensure the Micans don’t do it again.”

“You hope,” Ulage advised. “So, you think this new world would be treated the same as Karrin?”

“No. Everyone’s different. But they’d still be allowed to arrange for cargo.”

“We have some terraforming equipment,” Ulage confessed. “I have to consider if I will give it to you.” When an aide whispered into her ear, Ulage looked over at Postain, nodded dismissively and told him to ‘cover it’. “A minor thing,” she told him, “your pilot’s in the duty free section, trying to barter for goods…”

Postain rolled his eyes. “Postcards…”

“And liquor. I just told my aide to pay for it.”

“And I’m going to pay for that, I take it?”

“Indeed. I want another of those portable food machines. We don’t have replication tech. But we will.”


Maldak twitched in her seat. She’d just picked up something on the communications system. “Commander,” she said uncertainly. “I think I’m getting something from the relay station we set up...”

[Amazee Dayzee]

Hope whatever they picked up is something that is good. It can never stay too quiet for too long so I am expecting the worse.

[Welsh Halfwit]

It's the call from the freighter, advising about what's going on around Karrin.

[Amazee Dayzee]

Whether things are about to be reported as being much worse around there though is another thing. People in this universe should know: things can ALWAYS get worse.

[Welsh Halfwit]

One thing I try to get across in this upcoming battle is that both sides can have honourable warriors and rules of combat.

Another thing I try to get across is that nothing spoils a plan more than a surprise appearance...

FOURTY-NINE

Frank didn’t know if they’d bothered to exchange pleasantries, the monitor wasn’t good enough to tell him that, but he recognised an attack vector when he saw it. He’d seen enough of them over the years, whether he was ready for combat or not. There was something of the Hawk about these incoming ships that clearly had everyone nervous. Frank let his new ‘friend’, Yarik give him a verbal demonstration on how to fire his weapon as he wasn’t handing it over and a physical demonstration right now might well be disastrous. There were six of them guarding the engineers right now, with the Cayman ready with a flanking team to get to wherever was needed outside. Uarik pointed out when they were within weapons range. But it was a moot point. The rumble of an energy bolt damaging metal reverberated the hull as the first of the ships intercepted a missile from the closest defence platform. “We start the fight,” Frank opined.

“Of course,” Yarik told him. “Fire first in hope to fire last. It’s what we’re taught.”

Frank shrugged. “We’re always told not to start a fight but to finish them.”

“Hmm,” Yarik considered. “That’s an opinion.” He held on as the engines started up, sending pulses of purple light down the main block to their left. “Someone’s trying to get around the defence platform, it seems.”

Frank watched the screen. It seemed this Cadan knew enough to let the defence platforms be the first line, with them and their partner ship as secondaries. The last thing they needed was to be between the enemy and their own rapid-fire weapons. That was a sure way to die. “How come they attacked this defended side,” he asked. “I mean they’re attacking the most defended part of this planet head on…”

“Crudbukkets,” Yarik cursed, knowing he was right. He pressed a communications stud. “Yarik to Chief Folterra.”

Instead of replying on the comm, the Cayman appeared in the doorway. “This better be important, Yarik,” she threatened, storming over to them.

“Something the…” Yarik gestured to Frank but stumbled over the words.

“Human,” Frank mentioned.

“...Hyooman mentioned,” he continued. “This quarter of the planet is heavily defended. Five ships wouldn’t be enough so…”

“Distraction,” Folterra snorted, slapping the console. “Good spot, leaky,” she told Frank, before stepping off to tell the bridge she’d seen something unusual.

“I didn’t know I’d spotted all that,” Frank said, having guessed it but not spoken of it.

“Doesn’t hurt to get in her good books, Flank.”

“Frank.”

“If you say so.”


The impact direct to the energy shielding shook the ship and brought sparks from the engine that made Frank quite happy he wasn’t closer to the engine as a Jestavanian cried out in surprise as a spark flashed onto her nose. “No circuit breakers,” he asked as the room shook around him. The pulse of weapons fire thrummed through the room, from ignition to projection point before launching out into the void.

“What’s that,” Yarik asked.

“Stuff that stops consoles exploding on us?”

“Oh, Testran Plugs? Nah. Pretty sure we can’t…” He fell against Frank as the ship suffered another impact and more sparks flew, “...afford the replacements. That was against the hull,” he continued. “Time to concentrate” He grinned slightly. “If things get too hot I’ll throw you at them. They won’t be able to hold their guns whilst holding their noses.”

“I am nothing if not a grenade,” Frank replied, half amused.


Doctan Tyla had hoped never to see a day like this again. She knew of the conflict going on above the sky, of course, as they’d notified her as one of the senior officials on the colony but it was the other depressing sight that was taking precedence. There was a heavy cannon being installed on the roof across from the hospital, capable of tracking ships in low orbit and stitching fire to slice into the hull. A machine of death whose only purpose was to engage in battle to protect them. She knew two more were being installed around the complex by uniformed Militia. She returned to the duty of evacuating the children and bed ridden adults to the lower and basement levels and readied herself for the new wounded to come.


The ship bucked and twisted as it tried to retaliate against the cruiser that seemed to be taking an interest in not letting her go where she was planning. Engineers repaired fractures in the metal skin as the ship fired back, the thrumm and grubb of the systems talking to the inhabitants as they awaited the entry of… “We have incoming,” Folterra called. “Ready to repel boarders!”


Something appeared in the Engineering section but it was far more ball like than a Jestavanian and Frank threw himself against Yarik go drop him to the ground as the flash grenade blasted light and sound across the room. Troopers started appearing a bare few sections later and Frank scrambled for cover and started firing his stun weapon into their crowd as they fired on the other defenders. He scored a direct hit, dropping one of them as one of his new friends exploded into nothingness and they turned to sweep fire in his direction, chipping away at the cover he’d taken until Yarik fired from his own cover, gaining them seconds for the others to recover or the Cayman to come to the rescue as Frank slung himself into a new firing position. A bolt seared past his neck and he could feel its burn.

Yarik lobbed something overarm, into the middle of the group, and winced as his thumb was shot off, just after the device laft his hand. As soon as it cracked onto the floor, lightning strobed out in random directions in an arc of stun energy that struck each of the attackers several times, lighting their teeth and eyes before dropping them, half alive, to the floor. Frank scooted over and grabbed a medical pack. “Don’t… worry,” Yarik said through clenched teeth. “It… cauterised as it hit.” He pointed at the monitors. “You… were right,” he said.


It indicated a ship coming through the atmosphere on the other side of the planet, a cruiser, if Frank was reading these things right. “Is that a cruiser,” he asked.

“Y...|Ytarran cl...class,” Yarik gasped, helping himself to a pain killer. “Which… just leaves one qu...question.”

“What’s that?”

Yarik faked a smile. “Not… not what. Who.” He pointed to an unidentified blip that had appeared behind the intruder, closing on close Karriniean space. “Who the heck is that?”

“That ident code,” Frank said, frowning as he read the twelve digit code next to the blip. “That’s a U.S.C. ship.”


No further talk was possible. More enemies were incoming.

[Amazee Dayzee]

They might spoil the plan but it makes the story more interesting for us! I do hope that they can quickly regroup before they take too much damage though!

[Welsh Halfwit]

FIFTY

Frank yelped as a shot scorched across his thigh as they struggled to prevent the intruders gaining a foothold. They had no back up as the fighting was going on throughout the ship now. Struggles in the hallway and on the bridge as Jestavanians fell. Frank stabbed upwards as an unfamiliar muzzle appeared above the unit he was behind and sliced open someone’s nose with the knife he’d found earlier in the fight. The figure stepped back, holding its nose and trying to bring it’s weapon to bear so Frank fired his stun weapon point blank into the upper chest and making it fall back.

Yarik was into hand to hand combat now, bringing his fist into the gut of a female before trying to swing a male off his feet as the male put a strike into where Frank would have kept his kidneys. Ignoring the leg pain, Frank put himself into the melee, trying to push the physically more powerful male back away from his ally. He stamped his booted foot down hard onto the Jestavanian’s ankle and grimaced as the target shifted his position automatically, exposing more of his middle, which Frank put his blade into. The Jestavanian grinned as Frank hit something hard under the shirt. “Body armour,” he asked rhetorically.

“Just really tough,” the Jestavanian replied, swatting him across the face, leaving clawmarks. “Stay down, Alien, this isn’t your fight.”

Frank staggered back to his feet and indicated Yarik, still handling two opponents, with a younger male having joined the female whilst others conspicuously left Frank and his opponent alone. “He’s a friend,” he said simply.

“Loyalty,” the thickset one said starkly, throwing down his pistol. “Admirable. Let’s do this the honourable way.” He even took a pair of knuckle dusters from his pouch and threw them across. “You have no claws.”

Getting it and figuring the others would start shooting at everyone again if he shot this titan in grey fur, Frank put the dusters on and put his knife away after dropping his stun weapon. “May the best Human win,” he said, feeling the blood on his cheek.

“Is that what you’re called,” the Jestavanian replied, stepping in for the attack.



President Gerak had heard the alerts at the same time as everyone else and had been taken to the underground control centre to contact the Cadan in charge of the assault force. It hadn’t gone productively, with the Division leader – for this incursion was theirs, not the Usual Star Council – simply declaring it was time Karrin was rid of the alien influence and placed under their ‘benevolent protection’ before cutting the line off. He was assured that five ships had no chance against the defence platforms and two active ships but there was something concerning him about it. Something so obvious it was obscured. “What are we missing,” he asked, putting a hand to his chin. “These…” He clicked his finger claws to pull over an advisor. “These don’t look much like good tactics to me?”

The aide had looked at the same screens the President was facing. “I’d have to agree,” she admitted, pointing to the satellites. “They’re where our defences are strongest. I’d have anticipated… Oh, no.” She pointed to another dot on the far side, its’ position relayed by satellites. “Another ship. Over Denbetter City.”

Shortly after, contact had been lost with the colony’s third city.


Frank had landed a few good blows in the minutes of the fight but he could feel something sliding about inside with each breath he took and was sure he wasn’t winning the fight. In fact, he thought he might be losing. He’d employed the tactics he’d learned over years of guarding and Captaining and some of them had gotten through. But not enough. His arm trobbed, casting pain whenever he moved it. His hearing was fading, replaced by ringing as the three bleeding Jestavanians in front of him swam towards him, only to be blocked out by a shadow.

Yarik stepped between the two, intercepting the challenge. He looked the assaulter in the eye. “Stepping in,” he said, shaking blood from his mouth as he said so, amongst the other fighting.

“For an alien,” the assaulter commented. “Replacement approved.” He turned to face his new opponent as one of the other guards saw to Frank, fighting still going on outside.

“Honour thing,” the guard told the confused Human. “You don’t fire into a champion’s combat. He’s wearing a champion’s belt. Both sides…” He ducked a shot that came in from outside the room, “...know it can help both sides but honour’s honour.” The Jestavanian looked him in the eye. “I’ll tell you again when you can hear me, eh?” He was treating the facial scars when a shot cut through his back in a straight line and he fell on top of Frank. Unmoving.


Charlie, for her part, was fretting. She’d fretted over a sparse lunch with Willa, Enzo and Kelvan, where she’d had to pull herself together to convince both Kelvan and Willa that their dads (and mum, in Willa’s case) were going to be OK and, no, they weren’t going to be furious with her for stowing away because she hadn’t stowed away and it was all Osser’s fault for not doing a complete check before leaving orbit. Hayseed had joined them and made Willa laugh by saying that, after working with her through the morning, before the maligned Osser had called her to the bridge, he was absolutely sure that, if she put her mind to it, she’d be a great nurse when she grew up.” He held up the floppy flan she’d made and she face palmed.

“What did Talitha want you on the bridge for,” Charlie asked.

Kelvan looked to speak but Willa put a hand in front of his mouth. “She let me send the message,” the girl boasted. “I got the reply from the Rodomont that they’d heard it!”

“Great,” Charlie cheered, keeping the rest of her thoughts to herself. She knew how long it would take any U.S.C. ship to arrive from Darby.


They were getting the first reports of the orbital bombardments now. Denbetter taking impacts across its industrial complex as the enemy faced them, targetting infrastructure more than people right at this moment. Gerak knew it couldn’t last and almost closed his eyes when another ship showed on the screens behind the first. Then the ident codes made sense to him. And that confused him. “What the..?”


Having carried out her duties and established contact with Kiballa, the ship had decided to travel back via Karrin to avoid the space minefield they’d just managed to survive on the way out. Even repaired, it hadn’t been something they’d wanted to deal with again so they’d taken the safer route.


Which is why the U.S.C. light cruiser Wuy had entered the battle, firing on the Division ship.

[Amazee Dayzee]

Of course. You try to get out of one situation only to wind up in another. That is always the way isn't it?

[Welsh Halfwit]

FIFTY-ONE

Yarik could barely stand right now, let alone see. There was blood in his eyes and his knees were shaking under his own weight. He could feel several ribs had gone and there was a hot feeling in his abdominal area and he was one fingerwave short of going down. His nose was blocked with his own blood and his hearing was swimming. He hoped the Master he was facing wasn’t in much better condition. He knew he’d scored a number blows and wounds on the hillside he’d been fighting. Was his arm broken? He lashed out with his right and hit thin air as the opponent wasn’t there. He toppled forward, off balance, and was caught by someone he reckoned was one of the engineers as he vaguely heard them call for medical assistance before telling him that the Master had gone, declaring him and Frank ‘worthy’ to be spared and stepping back before the team had been recalled. Or, at least, that was what Yarik thought he said. It could well have been a hallucination before passing out.


Frank would be able to attest to some of it when Yarik came around. His eyes were still working, even if breathing was something of an effort at the moment. He’d been able to see the big Jes...Jarri…. almost Brockian step back and smile before teleporting away with his people. They seemed to be needed somewhere else, he thought, before thinking he wished he were somewhere else too. Hospital. He pulled himself over to Yarik to check on his friend.


The Cadan looked out as the one enemy ship exploded silently under the impact of several missiles from the defence station and mused on it. “Give me a close up on that ship,” he told his first officer, who took the time to reprogram the side viewer to examine the debris. “No bodies,” he said simply as one of the ships peeled off to head around to the other side of the planet. “A remote controlled ship. That one’s probably the control ship,” he continued, indicating the leaving ship. “Best speed after it. Set intercept course, helm.”

The helm set course and accelerated after the running ship, juddering as one of the enemy ships came in behind them, only to be shredded by a beam weapon satellite that punched through what was left of its shielding. Letnant Krillbee looked to the Cadan. “Wouldn’t it be better to wait until the last ship here is destroyed? Then we and the Yirikkan can…”

“That alien ship,” Cadan Tork interrupted, having been told it was a U.S.C. vessel by the Lappy thing he’d let stay at communications “might be able to handle that one ship. But it’s about to be facing two. If we like them or not, they’re our allies in this fight. Fair enough?”

The Letnant mused on this, his whiskers twitching. “Accepted.”

“Oh, good,” the Cadan said, slightly mockingly as they took another impact to their stern. “Let me know when we’re in weapons range,” he said, as though thinking no-one would. “Strengthen fore shields. Are you hearing anything, Miss… uh… Comms?”

“Radnor,” the Lappinean remarked. “And the appearance of the ‘ahem’ Alien ship’s got them in a fluster.” She frowned. “They thought they’d have more time, what with the two armed alien ships being elsewhere?”

The Cadan slowly turned to look at her. “What are you basing that on?”

“Their communications with base.”

“Aren’t those encrypted?”

She smirked. “They are in U.S.C. space too. I’ve often needed to decrypt to stay out of trouble. I’ve gotten good at it. Brings up a question though, doesn’t it?”

The Cadan nodded. How did the division know the Rodomont and the Pollock were going to be ‘elsewhere’? “Leave instructions on how you broke their encryption.”


Postain had ended the conference then and there and headed back out to the shuttle with Ulage’s permission. She’d understood that emergencies were emergencies and they could deal with the Micans on a more equal footing now, especially as Postain was leaving the Pollock to keep an eye on things and Ulage could arrange a ‘boost’ for them if they were ready soon. Postain was more than a little surprised to see Cadan Kaybee catching up with him. “Surprised to see you here,” he said, hustling Bartleby and her duty free into the shuttle ahead of him. “It’s not a fight I thought you’d want to join.”

“I don’t,” the Cadan grumped, “but the Larrakaea is STILL my ship and she’s involved in this battle without me. I need to be in the same battle.”

“Understood,” Postain replied, actually understanding it. He allowed the Jestavanian in first and ganced at the Cadan as he engaged the restraints before he took up the co-pilot’s seat. “Get us up there, Bartleby,” he told the pilot.

“Absolutely,” she replied, engaging the systems to lift off.


“Situation, Xarra,” he demanded as the trio got to the bridge.

“Unsure, sir,” she replied, shifting to her normal seat as Postain didn’t stop and moved straight into his seat as Bartleby replaced the helm officer and the Cadan looked around for somewhere to sit. He took the chair next to Maldak and put his hand up to stop her engaging his restraints. She smirked as he did it himself. “We’ve moved to the position the Darbineans told us to but… we have company.” She tapped the console and they looked out on a Mican cruiser that was keeping station with them.

“Had a feeling we would,” Postain replied. “Maldak, signal the surface that we’re here.”


A few seconds later, Ulage appeared on screen. <“I see you’ve noticed your ‘escort’, Catain,”> she said simply. <“Dunbeath’s idea. Indicating they’re properly on your side. And,”> she added slyly, <“ending Darlington’s agreement or something. She went quite coy after that.”>

“Tell her we’ll be back,” Postain commented, meaning it as a clear threat but letting it lie indirect.

<“I take it you and they are in position?”>

“We are.”

<“Get ready.”> She cut the line without waiting for a reply.


“Maldak,” Postain said. “General alert. Everyone’s to brace themselves and get into seats with restraints if they can.


Across the ship, crew hurried to comply. Flakk strapped the Equinnan chief in the isolation ward down and got himself to his office as Kelly restrained herself carefully and sneezed. Nurses secured themselves as best they were able, either to beds or the railings


Ulage checked they’d got the speed and direction right. They’d not been able to get into the artefact to find out how it worked but their teams had been able to find out how to use it in their interactions and their aim was getting good now. They had worked on the power needed to shift a ship as far as they needed and no further. The direction they had them going wasn’t quite straight to Karrin as the direction, even relayed through the reflection satellites they’d found in the control station, didn’t quite allow it but it would be a lot faster than 16 hours. “Right,” she said simply, “Fire.”

[Amazee Dayzee]

Hoping that the bracing and restraints will be enough for everybody. I have a feeling this is gonna be very violent.

[Welsh Halfwit]

Yup. And there'll be a lot of banged up people at the least