Zila’s tablet teetered on the edge of the desk, nudged by a single purple digit, before Ranger spoke up. “Something isn’t right.”
Roe leaned on the desk, her gaze fixed on the tablet inches away from falling. “Zila is taking a while,” she remarked, her pupils narrowing to slits as she eyed the precarious position of the device.
Ranger glanced at the wall screens displaying live CCTV footage of their floor. “That isn’t the issue. She spoke English. That must mean she knows more about humans than she’s letting on.”
“Maybe she’s a quick learner, she did mention she’s an AI after all,” Roe replied, inching her hand closer to the tablet.
Ranger voiced his thoughts aloud rather than responding directly. “And her mannerisms... They’re so human. Thinking about it, it’s the same with you, Roe.” He turned to face the alien cat.
Roe snapped her hand back, her eyes returning to normal as she focused on Ranger. “My mannerisms?”
“Nevermind,” Ranger shook his head, to dismiss his own tired mind, “My mind is working overtime,” redirecting his attention to the CCTV screens to spot Zila carrying something heavy. “Looks like she’s on her way back.”
It was now or never for Roe, seizing the opportunity, she slid her three-fingered hand across the desk, licking her fangs as her digits edged closer to the device. Her eyes widened. Pupils Shrinking. Fur standing on end. It’s going to -
“I’m back,” Zila poked around the door, causing Roe to jump with a mix of a squeak and a hiss. Observing Roe’s reaction, the guard captain chuckled softly. “Didn’t mean to startle you, Roe.”
“I-it’s fine,” Roe replied with a stutter, her eyes darting back to the tablet on the edge of the desk.
Entering fully, Zila carried a green bag on her shoulder, dropping it on the desk with a heavy thud. She noticed her tablet teetering and pushed it back to the centre. “I don’t need that broken. It’s my last one.”
Roe’s expression fell, devastated by the tablet’s non-precarious position.
Zila noticed the bipedal feline's ears drooping, “Don’t worry, we’ll get through it. You won’t be trapped here forever. Besides, I have a plan.” She tapped the green canvas bag.
“And what plan is that?” Ranger stepped over to the desk, inspecting the easily recognisable logo on the bag. “This is from the USSP Ranger Corps.” Without hesitation, he unzipped the bag.
“I thought you’d recognize it,” Zila said with a smile.
Ranger pulled out the contents onto the desk: a full masked helmet, a Kevlar chest plate with titanium-infused carbon panels, a set of combat trousers with knee and thigh plates made from the same material, and a pair of black polished boots and armoured gloves. Slowly, he picked up the Ranger green chest armour that was donned with many pockets and checked the label inside. He frowned a little as he continued to inspect it. “This is what we wear for ground operations. It’s an older model, from fifteen to twenty years ago... I would have been a kid when this was in service.”
Roe and Zila's translators beeped, providing an approximate translation of the word "kid" and converting the time passed to Galactic Standard. Roe unclipped her translator from her ear and inspected it for any damages as it mentioned something about a small horned hoofed animal. The guard captain couldn’t help but smile at an old memory upon hearing the word.
Zila’s smile faded as she spoke, “It’s hard to gauge a human's age, as I've only ever met two, but this is Slay's old armour. He left it with me just under a decade ago… If my calculations of Earth cycles are correct.”
“Why? I can’t see a Ranger giving up his armour to another race, especially considering the plating in these was classified at the time,” Ranger asked, suspicion evident in his voice.
“This was his old spare. He complained it took up too much space for his loot.”
“And you want me to have this, why?”
Zila put her hands on her hips and tilted them, as if she wanted to say something sarcastic, but instead she put her thoughts more lightly, “You may be a Deathworlder, but a bullet is a bullet. They don’t discriminate.”
Ranger took another look at the armour. “What's the catch?”
“The catch is you help me and everyone else trapped on this station.”
“And if I say no?” Ranger questioned, already knowing the answer.
“Well, you can still take the armour and leave, though the pirates beg to differ.” Zila stepped over to the desk and grabbed her data tablet, pressing the screen a few times. The screens on the wall changed to display live footage of a dock located on the top floor.
Ranger's eyes flicked between the screens, instinctively searching for his ship. Several ships were nothing but smouldering wrecks. “Where’s my ship!?” he asked, panic creeping into his voice. “Where is it?”
“What landing pad did you use?” Zila asked, trying to sound as sympathetic as possible, but deep down, this situation was a boon to her and the station's survival.
“I don’t know, seven I think, from what I managed to gather out of the receptionist before they fainted,” Ranger replied.
Zila pressed her data pad once more, saying nothing, simply waiting for Ranger's reaction.
“God damn it!” Ranger yelled at the bottom screen. “Those lizards! If they are so worried about me, why cut off my only chance of leaving!”
Roe, who had been watching the exchange, decided to speak up, even if her translator was struggling with Ranger's outburst. “They want you dead, remember?”
Ranger turned to Roe and fired a finger at the screen. “It’s basic warfare one-oh-one! You always give your enemy a way out, you never back them into a corner! If you plan to kill them, at least give them a damn illusion of one - God damn it!”
“Alright! You don’t have to shout,” Roe responded with a short hiss before turning away from Ranger, showing her puffed-up tail. “I was only reminding you.”
Ranger glared at her and spoke through his teeth, “I. Don’t. Need. To. Be. Reminded. Thank you.”
“And don't forget the Deathworlder thing; like me, nearly the whole galaxy wants you dead,” Roe finished with a shrug.
Ranger pinched the bridge of his nose with a finger and thumb, almost at his wit's end. “Thank. You. Roe!”
Interrupting the escalating tension, the security captain stepped between the two Deathworlders. Being X’Licsie, death wasn’t much of an issue for her as long as her artificial brain survived.
“I know things look bleak, Ranger, and you too, Roe, but I’m willing to help you both,” Zila spoke before tensions boiled over. The last thing she wanted was these two facing off in her security office, let alone a station filled with scared civilians and bloodthirsty pirates.
“I need to get back home, and if what Roe said is true about a grand fleet, I need to warn them,” Ranger replied, his anger subsiding.
“It’s true, and you can leave anytime if you have a ship, and Roe…” Zila leaned slightly to make eye contact with the Kakila. “It’s the same for you.”
Roe looked past the security captain at Ranger, then focused back on Zila. “I can just leave?” She asked, hope appearing in her eyes, only to be snuffed out instantly by the daunting reality of the situation. “I don’t think I could make it past those pirates if I tried, and if I made it to my ship, those destroyers would…” Roe folded her arms across her chest, and flexed out her claws only to slightly dig it into the fur of her arms—a worrying display that Zila had read about on her race's species profile lists. The Kakila felt cornered.
"If you assist us, we will return the favour," Zila stated calmly as she tapped her data tablet, restoring the previous screen. "Help us save these civilians; they don't deserve to meet their end here."
Ranger sighed and approached Roe, turned on his heel then leaned back on the desk then mirrored Roe with crossed arms, "Why should we extend our help to those who harbour animosity toward us? Upon my arrival at this station, I was met with fear and disgust, mostly a combination of both."
Observing Roe's retracting claws in response to Ranger's proximity brought some relief to Zila's worry. Her attention then returned to the human. "Did you encounter any such reactions from the guards here?" she inquired.
Ranger shook his head. "Primarily nervousness, though they did provide assistance when I sought directions."
"Same here," Roe added, "Probably the most decent treatment I've experienced compared to the last few stations."
Zila, feeling a sense of pride for her subordinates, remarked, "That's reassuring to hear."
"Let me clarify, you expect us to rescue individuals who hold disdain for us based on our origins and dietary preferences?" Ranger retorted.
"Yes," Zila switched to Rangers language, with a slightly off accent she spoke perfect English "although 'hate' might be the wrong word; 'fear' would be more apt."
Ranger removed his translator, citing the slight delay in its response and its quicker alternative to turning it off. "Then tell me, why should I be foolish enough to aid individuals who might betray us in the future due to their…uh…discomfort around me?"
Taking a step forward and stopping just a foot away from Ranger, Zila challenged him, "Alright, Ranger, what course of action would a ranger take in this situation?" She slightly lowered herself under his eye line.
Once again, Ranger locked eyes with Zila, not to assert dominance but to avoid scratching out the Great Blue Tits from his birdwatching card. "Getting away from here," he replied.
"Liar," the blue alien put her hands on her knees as she lowered her posture even more. Her eyes narrowed, scrutinising Rangers every expression from below.
Ranger turned his sight away from Zila and dared not to look down, clearly aware of her blatant manipulation tactics, "Sorry, but whoever this 'Slay for Days' character was, he probably conveyed the wrong impression of the Corps. We're not the heroes he might have led you to believe; we're essentially an elite rapid response team for frontier settlements, whether they're planets or stations—human ones, to be specific."
Roe's shoulders dropped slightly upon hearing Ranger's explanation, her tail moving slowly behind her. “iza prin' uoskyafy aisc, cyq scer gai-dat mdat quo…” She turned her head away from the human. “iegl' fra sioka thadat…”
“Shit, hang on Roe, I have no clue what you are saying,” Ranger quickly reclipped his translator around his ear. Before he could ask Roe to repeat herself, Zila interjected.
“Just looking out for yourself,” Zila pulled back, a little disappointed with his response. “Even without a ship, you’re going to try, aren't you?”
“The hell I am. I’m sorry, but saving aliens isn’t on my agenda.”
“You saved that Garothorn, he’s an alien to you, isn’t he?” Roe's voice carried a tinge of hurt.
Ranger pursed his lips as he tried to recall what a Garothorn was. The sound of vertebrae snapping replayed in his mind. “Oh, the frog thing… Yeah, I saved him. That was more of a means to his end - I mean, an end… It benefited me because the pirate was distracted… With him… Because he wasn’t dead. As in alive at this very moment.”
Roe and Zila exchanged glances, both expecting a simple yes or no answer.
“And what about me?” Roe pressed with another question.
Before Ranger could respond, gunfire erupted, echoing throughout the station. The time between shots quickly shortened, indicating the intensity of the sudden battle. Zila's attention snapped to the screens, as did Ranger's. A dozen or so guards were caught in a firefight around the stairway entrance to the floor above.
“Damn the Source! I gotta go!” Zila bounced backward with nimble footing before she turned and dashed out of the office door.
Unfazed by the sudden sounds of battle, Roe grabbed the side of the desk and pushed herself up to sit on it. “You didn’t answer. What about me?”
Ranger's attention was fixed on the screens as he watched the firefight between the guards and the lizard-like pirates. “About who?” he replied, only half listening.
“Do you care about me?”
“Sure, you’re my battle buddy,” Ranger assured, still focused on the screen where two blue-armored guards, tails tucked firmly, leaned over to blind-fire their pistols in the stairwell. It was evident from the camera's position that they weren't hitting anything. The human shook his head in response to the lack of tactics and discipline displayed.
The answer didn’t sit well with Roe. “Why make me your battle buddy?”
“I don’t know, I couldn’t let you run around naked. Besides,” Ranger held up his arm, showing the deep claw marks in his armour. “And you showed some promise, unlike these morons,” he finished by gesturing toward the screens.
Roe, a bit puzzled by his reply, turned her head and watched the live footage. “What’s the problem? They’re fighting.”
“Badly. These guards aren't going to last,” Ranger watched a guard being pulled away with a wounded shoulder. To his horror, he spotted two civilians huddled in the corridor, no more than fifty feet from the battle. “What are they doing!” he yelled at the screen as if it were a football game. “Get them out of there! Civies are unknown variables; you don’t know how they are going to act!”
The two watched as Zila appeared on the screen, pointing and giving orders to the guards. “That’s good, start giving orders-” he was cut off as Zila jumped into the fray, drawing her pistol. “What is she doing!”
“Fighting. Isn’t that what she was supposed to be doing?” Roe asked.
“Yes and no. There are times she needs to fight, but not in this fight. It’s just a raid to add pressure to the siege,” Ranger replied, watching the security captain break cover and take a few well-placed shots at a retreating lizard. “If she dies, then the guard will lose morale, then cohesion, before you know it there would be a rout… where everyone runs,” he explained to Roe.
“Running away isn’t bad, you get to live,” Roe replied, rubbing her arm as her mind replayed her past self crawling to a spaceship as the aerospace port burned around her.
“Where do we run to, Roe?” Ranger huffed as he continued to watch. “This station is doomed,” he muttered as another guard fell, causing Zila to leave her cover and rescue her subordinate. “Damn it!” the human cried out. “Jesus lend me your seven shooter, I’m going to need it.”
Roe looked around the room for this Jesus Range spoke of before her eyes fell on Ranger pulling off his armour. “What are you doing?”
“Being a fucking idiot,” he snapped as he took off his boots and grabbed the armor for his legs. “I can’t just stand here and watch this shit, I mean, look at them! No chance in hell.”
“That’s a sudden change in heart,” Roe said as she passed him the black boots. “I thought you said you only helped humans.”
“I do and I should. But I’m too soft for my own good,” Ranger threw a foot up onto the side of the desk, then pulled his laces tight and tied them. “Either way, Zila said she could help us. I don’t trust her, but I have no other options. No ship and no luck.”
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Roe passed the Kevlar chest plate to Ranger, who grabbed it before placing his rifle against the wall behind him. “I think she’s nice.”
“She gives me a bad vibe,” the human said as he slid his body into the armoured vest and fastened the straps on the sides. “Complete man-eater, I can feel it.”
Lastly, Roe handed Ranger the armoured gloves. “I don’t think she consumes meat…”
“I’m pretty sure there’s been plenty inside of her,” Ranger tugged on the bottom of his gloves and gave his new armour a once-over. “Not bad. The vest is a little loose, but nothing to cause too much worry.”
Ranger grabbed the helmet and placed it over his head. His visor flashed with a welcome message, then a prompt appeared: "Would you like a battle assist on? Yes or No?" Ranger quickly pressed a button tucked off to the side of his chin to select "No."
Another prompt appeared: "Would you like to view a five-second ad to increase your military standing?" With a sigh, he clicked "No."
As he was about to move, another prompt appeared: "Would you like to take a short survey about your place in the Ranger Corps? (All responses will be forwarded to your superior)" Again, Ranger clicked the "No" button.
He waited for a moment in case there were any more pop-ups. Assured there weren’t any more, he grabbed the rifle and tossed it over his back with the strap over his shoulder. Lastly, he holstered his pistol on the front of his chest plate.
“You look good,” Roe complimented before jumping off the desk. “Well, good luck—” Before she could finish, Ranger grabbed her hand and pulled her as he marched out of the office door. “Hey, wait! I thought you were going!”
“I am,” Ranger replied. “I don’t expect you to fight, just watch what I do.”
“I can! From the screen there!” Roe pointed behind her and pleaded, her paws unable to grip the shiny metal floor enough to pull back.
“No, nothing beats a live demonstration.”
“But I have already! Besides, I’m a civilian! I have no military experience!”
“You’re a battle buddy now. Besides, if a Ranger teaches you to fight, you become part of the militia.”
The human dragged the bipedal cat down a dull, plain metal-clad corridor, where the stairs' entrance to the floor above sat in the middle of a T-junction.
Ranger stopped suddenly, causing Roe to bump into him from behind. “Stay close, don’t make yourself a target.”
Roe peered over the human's shoulder, taking in the chaotic scene unfolding before them. Zila was shouting orders to her disorganised guards, some of whom were dragging away the wounded, leaving trails of cyan-coloured blood. Further down the hall, two black insectoid aliens huddled together, their mandibles quivering, antenna touching each other in a gesture of comfort.
Ranger marched forward with Roe behind him, gripping a guard by the wrist. “You!” he shouted, the guard instinctively aiming her pistol at him, only for it to be batted away by his hand. “Get those civilians out of here!” He pointed to the cowering pair.
The guard hesitated for a moment before responding, “I’m under command—”
“Screw your command! Those are civilian lives at risk! Get them away from the conflict, now!” Ranger's voice thundered behind his mask, his urgency palpable. The guard glanced back at her captain.
Zila heard the human's voice cutting through the chaos and took cover, pressing her shoulder against the entrance wall. She cursed quietly upon realizing the two terrified civilians. “Do what he says, Farlea!” she shouted over the gunfire. “That’s an order!”
“Yes, ma’am!” Farlea barked, before rushing off to evacuate the insectoids.
Ranger ran over to Zila, pistol readied, and crouched two feet from the wall, covering her position from any potential enemy rushes.
“You've made up your mind?” Zila shouted with a grin, despite the dire situation.
“I couldn’t just stand by and watch this disaster unfold. Why are you on the front lines?” Ranger yelled back.
“I'm the best shooter with the most experience here. The guards need to see me fight, or they'll lose morale.”
“I get that! But you're more valuable alive! Without you, their morale will plummet. And look around! You're too focused on fighting, half of them don’t know what to do!” Ranger gestured to three guards clutching their rifles, unsure whether to join the fray.
Without hesitation, Zila nodded and retreated from the entrance, allowing Ranger to take her place with Roe shadowing him. She began shouting orders over the gunfire, directing the guards to strategic positions around the entrance. Ranger watched as they followed her instructions, crouching with their rifles aimed into the stairwell. It wasn't perfect, but at least there was a semblance of defence now established.
There was a lull in the gunfire, subsiding into an eerie silence where the only sound was the buzzing electrical drone of the lights above. A x’Licsie guard leaned her shoulder against the opposite wall, crouching down as she looked up at two deathworlders mirroring her stance. She peeked around the corner and then shot a glance back at Ranger.
“See anything?” the human asked.
“No, I think they gave up,” the guard replied.
Roe spoke up as she placed a claw onto Ranger's shoulder to take a look, only to be slapped back by his hand. “Ouch! Why was that for?”
“Now and then, you need to slap your battle buddy for being stupid,” Ranger replied.
Roe retaliated by batting the back of Ranger's helmet with a thunk, causing his head to recoil. “Damn Roe, what was that for? I swear, if you scratched this armour too, I’m finding a damn spray bottle,” Ranger grumbled as he rubbed a gloved hand over where Roe's hand had impacted the helmet.
“I hit you for being stupid, for thinking I’m stupid,” Roe retorted. “Besides, why have they stopped?”
“It was just a raid. Their goal is to break morale, waste our ammo and pick off the guards if possible. It seems these pirates are taking a more psychological approach,” Ranger explained, though the more he thought about it, the situation seemed far from the norm of the pirates he had dealt with in the past. Normally, it’s just shoot, loot, and run. His mind flicked back to the security office where Zila mentioned they were after the station itself. Again, the situation didn’t add up. Raiding a station would make more sense, but making a base out of it? Normally, pirate bases are just a few asteroids held together by scavenged ships. Maybe this was normal in this part of the galaxy.
The sound of Zila’s voice broke Ranger from his thoughts. “I guess they gave up.”
Ranger stood up. “For now. But if you want my advice, I would use this time to fortify this area with anything you can find that can stop small arms fire.”
“Yeah… We'll get on that,” Zila sighed. “I don’t think we'll last being pushed down another floor…”
----------------------------------------
Back on the spaceport orbiting Earth, the four rangers stood in a line with their bags, gazing up at a new prototype spacecraft docked in a massive hangar that dwarfed them in scale, making the humans seem like mere bugs in comparison. The ship boasted a sleek and aerodynamic design, its triangular shape suggesting speed and agility in battle. Crafted from advanced composite exotic materials, the hull gleamed with a smooth and streamlined appearance.
The ship carrier's most striking feature was its triangular wings, equipped with advanced thrusters and control surfaces for precise manoeuvring in both space and atmospheric conditions. Unlike typical designs where the hangar bay is located at the sides, this vessel had its hangar bay positioned at the rear, capable of housing up to eight spacefighters in a compact linear configuration.
As they admired the craft, Birds' brows furrowed in worry rather than awe at its sleek design. "Where are the damn guns?"
Babs, standing next to him, took a long drag of her smoke. "I was wondering the same thing until I saw the name of the ship on the side there." She pointed with her yellow-tipped finger.
Bird took another look at the craft and noticed the block-front text confirming its name: HMS Audacious. "And it's a British ship. Of course it has no guns! I wouldn't be surprised if it had plastic cutlery in the mess hall too!"
Micheal shrugged, “Maybe they’re hidden, then again we all know our friends across the pond prefer missiles to kinetic batteries…But I don’t see any launchers…Or point defence…” He trailed off, his mind racing with concerns about the ship's offensive capabilities.
Princess glanced at the ship briefly before returning her attention to her tablet, scrolling through her social media profiles. “I have trust in command. Besides, if anything happens to me, my dad would be furious.”
Micheal turned to Princess, his expression curious. “Princess, I’m surprised your dad allowed you on such a mission in the first place.”
Princess huffed, “He threatened to pull funding from all American arms manufacturers at first, but I persuaded him. Hence why we have that ship in front of us. It seems like he pulled some last-minute strings.”
Bird looked at her incredulously. “So he switched out our normal ship with one with no guns! I hate to be blunt, but have you pissed off your dad lately?”
“I assure you, Bird, he only changed his mind when I suggested he make the decision on the ship and captain. That ship in front of us,” Princess motioned her head toward the spacecraft, still engrossed in her tablet, “Is the best that money can buy.”
“But why the hell is it British!” Bird snapped.
“I don’t know. I guess he asked my uncle, who owns BAE Systems,” Princess replied with a shrug.
A cigarette butt dropped to the floor then bounced before being stubbed out by a leather boot. Babs opened her pack and pulled out another cigarette. “Well, what are we waiting for? We might as well meet the team we'll be working with.”
The four rangers walked towards the ship. Engineers, forklifts, and cranes worked around them as they traversed the massive hangar to load everything they needed for their mission. Despite being a relatively small carrier, the ship still dwarfed them in size. Babs took the lead, spotting the long legs of boarding ramps on the other side of the craft. It took a fair few minutes to walk around, but eventually, they stopped at the foot of the loading ramp.
A slender red-headed woman emerged from the craft, wearing a long red trench coat that almost scraped the floor as she walked down the metal ramp with the clunk of her boots. Her coat flapped behind her like a cape, revealing black cargo pants adorned with many pockets. A leather belt sat loosely around her hips, holstering more pistols than necessary. Above that, she wore a blouse-like white shirt with well-polished gold buttons that would make any admiral jealous of their shine.
The four rangers looked at each other, all recognizing the captain approaching them. Bird was the first to speak, but in a harsh whisper, “Seriously Princess, what the heck. Do you know who she is? That’s the Red Devil herself…”
“Do you have to point out everything you see, Bird?” Princess sighed, then sarcastically mimicked his low voice, “The ship has no guns! The ship is British! That’s the Red Devil!... Good grief…”
Bird glared at Princess, who gave him the best smug smile she could muster.
Michael adjusted his glasses so they sat more comfortably on his nose. “I believe that is,” he thought back to the news article he read a few weeks ago, “I thought she had been executed for treason and piracy against the British monarchy…”
Before anyone could say another word, the Red Devil was already upon them, surveying each ranger with a permanent pirate smile and a crazed look in her emerald green eyes.
“Blimey! ’Bout time you showed up, you’re my pilots I reckon,” the captain spoke with a thick accent.
“You! How are you our captain!? You're a pirate!” Bird lashed out, “This mission fell far from the lines of bullshit!”
Princess imitates Bird again with a roll of her eyes, voicing with her impression of him, “Oh no! She’s a pirate!”
“Will you shut it!” The young pilot snapped.
“Privateer, love,” the pirate captain replied, picking a bit of fluff from her great red coat before flicking it onto the floor, “I’m stamped on the coalition’s books now, that makes me a privateer. Took me by surprise too…” She continued, “A few hours ago, I was in the New Tower of London for the ol’ rope. I tell ya, if I hadn’t had that cheeky last-minute shag with one of the guards, I would be done for. The mucker must’ve been enjoying himself and lost track of time; old lady luck must’ve blessed me.”
The sudden turn in conversation and the revelation of the captain's real-life persona left everyone stunned. They had all seen the news reports that portrayed her as a cold, calculating, heartless monster.
“Yeah, that's the look I gave when a BlackRock geezer approached me in my cell,” the new captain gestured at the pilots' expressions, “Bloody caught me with my knickers around my ankles and my tits swinging over my last meal. Bloomin’ embarrassed I was. Wanted to die there and then.”
“Uh… Right,” Michael was the first to speak up after processing whatever that was, “I take it you’ve been briefed on our mission? Uh… Miss Red Devil?”
“Red Devil? Oh, that's the name the holo-tele gave yours truly. I’m Captain Lucy Cipher. At. Your. Service,” she swung one leg to give a quick bow, “And no, though talking to your science team onboard, I gather you’re looking for one of your old chums.”
“We are.” Bird stepped closer to the captain, “Though I don’t trust you one bit. How do we know you won’t pull a fast one on us and escape?”
“Your going have to trust me. I’m afraid I’m one of the few captains crazy enough to find this needle in the haystack,” Lucy’s pirated smile grew larger, “Besides, it’s too much cash to pass up, along with the amnesty.”
“And who is flying that thing!” Bird pointed angrily at the hull of the ship, his face contorted with frustration. “Let alone it has no guns! This mission failed before it started. Already fubar in my books!”
“This bird? That'll be me. Not a great fan of having a helmsman. I like the more hands-on approach. Besides, British ship controls haven't changed since our navies were all water bound.”
“But the guns! Where are they!” Bird continued his scrutiny of the ship.
Lucy pointed to Bird and then to each ranger. “You’ll be the guns. Though from the schematics of this ship, it’s not designed to be in battle for long.”
Before Bird could retort, the clanking of metal feet caught everyone's attention. “I see you all are acquainted,” the Sergeant stated, his bionic arms firmly behind his back.
The four rangers snapped to attention with a salute, except for the red-headed captain.
“At ease,” he ordered before turning to Lucy. “Now, Miss Cipher, with your temporary rank, I should be saluting you, but I am a moral man.”
“Never the one for the pish posh, love,” the captain gave a dismissive wave of a hand.
“Well, you’re only here to military investors' interference,” he takes a stern glance at Princess, who has now lost all interest in the conversation, tapping away once again on her tablet. “That being the case, step out of line and I’ll cast you into the void myself.”
“Permission to speak freely, sir,” Bird barks, giving another salute.
“Speak,” Sergeant orders.
“The ship, sir. I feel it’s inadequate for our mission, sir.”
“This ship here, Bird, is a British prototype, graciously donated by our allies for our mission. Not to mention a good price at the taxpayer's expense. It currently holds the record for the fastest carrier in human space, if not the galaxy.”
“But, sir,” Michael chimes in, “It’s a carrier and a small one at that. Will we have support?”
“Yes, it is a carrier, and no, it was designed for joint Royal Spaceforce and SAS missions. It’s built for speed and stealth, either in space or in the atmosphere. While it lacks any guns, it makes up for in shielding, stealth, and speed. That being the case, I don't wish to be in any prolonged combat. Is that clear, Miss Cipher?”
“Like that one British summer day a hundred forty-seven years ago, sir,” Lucy gives a mocking salute, causing the sergeant to purse his lips.
The sergeant grumbled under his breath before he spoke, “Let's get the briefing over and done with. An American life is at stake, and I’m already tired of having a thumb up my ass. Everyone onboard.”
Everyone followed suit into the ship. After a short work, they make it onto the bridge, though the small design of the ship is a large cockpit that can only squeeze a dozen or so people. While small, it contained everything needed. Screens litter the sides of the walls, with seating for the navigator, comms, and of course, located in the center, a massive alloy ship wheel with speed and pitch control by its side.
A massive curved window sat in front, for a full two hundred-degree view, laced with a thin mesh that displays the alert system HUD.
“While we wait for the leader of the science team, I would like to address some issues that have been brought to my attention,” Sergeant said as he paced the cockpit, “Princess.”
“Sir.” The young woman lowered her tablet.
“They are to do with you. I cannot allow your butler and this new starfighter of yours to come along with us.”
“Why?” Princess frowns.
“For one, a butler isn’t military personnel, and your starfighter is of foreign proprietary design. It would take too long for our engineers to—what are you doing?”
The sergeant stopped mid-sentence as he heard Princess's tablet ringing, followed by Princess putting in an earpiece to add some privacy for her call. The three other rangers averted their eyes, knowing what was coming to their superior.
“Oh hi, Daddy… Yeah… The sergeant won’t let me have my new ship… I know it’s horrible and I’m allowed no servants too… Yeah… Ow, Daddy, don’t shout, I have an earpiece in… Uh huh… I’ll pass it to him.”
Princess walked over to the sergeant and handed him the earpiece and tablet, “My dad wants to talk to you.”
“Uh…” The sergeant's eyes went wide, “Y-your dad…” He gave an unsure chuckle, “I’m sure he will understand the regulations.” Nervously, the cyborg placed the earpiece over his only real ear, “Mr. Blackwaters…I…” He winced as the small speaker in his ear crackled, “...No no… There was a misunderstanding… But you see… I’ll get my engineers on it, sir, of course I’ll protect her like she’s my own flesh and blood… I know I’m a cyborg but y-you know what I mean, sir… Of course, I am grateful for the ship, sir… And the captain… Yes!... Will do… B-bye…” He slowly took off the earpiece with a shaky metal hand then passed the devices back, “I-I think we can compromise…”
“Thank you, sir,” Princess gave a smug smile at her superior before she took back leaning against the wall. Her tablet gained her attention once again.
The sliding of metal doors drew and the sound of hooves clacking against the hard black flooring. Six legs entered the room, all reinforced with an exoskeleton that framed the outside of the horse-like creature. Its heart raced as five pairs of forward-facing predatory eyes glared at her. If any way to describe this creature, it would be a centaur, the horse-like body covered in a metal frame to protect the being from the high gravity that matched that of a Deathworld. The creature nervously ran her hand back through her long brown tied-back ears to mimic a female human hairstyle known as a ponytail.
“Hi… I-I’m here a-as requested,” The six-legged centaur spoke nervously, trying to mispronounce any words that would draw attention. She turned her head slightly in profile, so her large black eye could see the humans past her paper mask that hides her short muzzle.
One human removed his glasses then cleaned the lenses using the fabric of his fatigues before taking a second look then noting everyone's reaction to what he is seeing.
“Ah, Claire! Come in, come in,” the sergeant beckoned with a waving hand, “You can make it quick as I know you’re a little nervous around crowds.”
“Yy-yes, thank you,” the creature tucked her clipboard under her chest with one hand to form some protection if one of the predators decided to go straight for her internals, while the other adjusted her paper mask with an AI-generated human female face printed on the other side. “I’m sure you all know what occurred. I-I'm glad to say…” She stopped to calm her nerves as the sergeant gave her a warm smile, which didn’t help in the slightest, “to say that we have located the endpoint of Ranger's warp… Within fifty light-years by measuring the ripples that were left from the sudden curvature of spacetime..."
“That's right,” the sergeant cut in, “Ranger is currently on the other side of the galaxy, in an unknown quarter. It’ll be our mission to retrieve him, recover how he managed to warp, while mapping out any star systems we pass for our star charts. Any questions?”
Michael opened his mouth to question the creature before Bird cut in, “The galaxy is huge! And a fifty light-year search zone! Are you kidding! We will be older than Babs by the time we find him!”
“While insulting, Bird is right. I’m not going to live forever, Sarge,” Babs agreed, lighting up a smoke.
“The search zone can be narrowed, right? Claire?”
“Y-yes! We are currently refining the math and running simulations on our computers. Unfortunately, that’ll take time. At least we know the direction to head in,” Claire stammered out an answer, “C-can I leave now?” She whimpered. Her body shook with fear hoping that it is possible to narrow down the search area. This is something she needs to ask her team when possible.
“Of course!” The sergeant dipped his head, “Thank you, Claire.”
“N-no problem…” Claire turned her large body, her tail hitting most of the equipment within her radius, then trotted quickly out of the large cockpit.
Michael held out a hand once the door shut behind her, “You all know she is an alien horse wearing a paper mask, right? I’m not the only one!”
“Michael! I know Claire, she is one of our top scientists. I will not have you call her a horse!” the cyborg barked.
“She has six legs and a tail, sir! Nothing about her says human!”
Bird shrugged, “I don’t know, though she had a cute face…”
“Looks like she is from the old Midlands,” Lucy chimed in.
Michael looked at Bird then the captain with his mouth agape, “That was a paper mask! You could tell when she turned her head! Why am I explaining this!”
“Stand down, soldier. That’s an order. I will not allow you to insult a valued member of our team,” the sergeant spoke with a stern authoritative voice, “Do you understand?”
“But she’s-”
“Do you understand!” He shouted at Michael.
“Sir…” Michael complied.
With a huff, the sergeant continued with the briefing, going over the finer details of the mission.