Baskylla Jardzen Khla booms, “{Shut down all auxiliary systems and overdrive power to the hull repair! Get teams staging pressurization blocks!” Another beam rumbles the hull, causing him to flinch. The Hull Nordzen starts to report a rupture, but Khla continues, “{Isolate decks Urd and Shkaa, and pitch down to maximize all incoming on the ventral hull!”
His battleship’s cannons fire in every direction. Zarakyssns are easy to lure, but difficult to defeat. Only two of the human ships fled in orbit around the planet, racing by at impressive speeds. But, they fired shots which triggered the Zarakyssns to divide forces. His ship is surrounded, now, though. He would have to ram cruisers just to escape, and they would do serious damage to his weakening hull.
Some of the view screens flicker as the ship rumbles again. Some of the cells black out, but redundant cells take their place. The advantage to his bridge being in the center of the ship is that it’s typically the last hardpoint to go, allowing his command crew to command until the bitter end. But, the disadvantage is that it relies entirely on the remote video systems. Square-on EMP shots from the Zarakyssns can disable the video sensors, let alone their destructive weapons.
One of the Niodzens calls out, “{Yarjen! The science team is begging us to reconsider! The humans-…}”
“{Will die faster if our ship fractures!}” booms Khla. He’s not worried about the others as much. He sent Laurel –whom he’s starting to remember more clearly- with Mrff. Mrff was far from pleased, but Laurel is possibly the fulfillment of their real mission. If anything happens, Mrff is to return her to the Fievegal. Khla is now out to protect his Zhi, as well as his comrades, from the Zarakyssns. And, he’s starting to believe ‘his comrades’ includes another race.
Besides, he had the Grodrrn backup life support shut down several minutes ago. The humans use far less air than Grodrrns. They’ll make it through the battle.
The human construction ship has a piece break off, which catches his eye, but its engines ignite. Perhaps it was interdicted and the humans JUST recovered. It makes sense. The humans wouldn’t dare fight if they can escape. They’ve suffered several tragedies to their tiny, nomadic fleet that likely edangers their entire population. They had only barely defeated the Zarak hive ship. Grodrrn battle protocol dictates targeting the hive ships first. They’re the ships that house the Zarak War Queens. If they can be killed, usually the Grodrrns can retreat. Hive ships aren’t the only interdictors, but the War Queens are the tactical minds of the Zarak fleets.
Of course, the Zarakyssn horde will declare sanctions against the Fievegal, even though their War Queens are replaced almost as quickly as their soldiers. Even the Queen of Queens, the supreme ruler of the colossal empire of the Zarakyssn horde, is easily replaced by a senior War or Peace Queen, depending on factors only the Queens know.
Khla has read as much as the Fievegal has on the Zarakyssn Queens, especially the Queen of Queens. He’s always been curious about them. Not much is known, of course, but the Fievegal has pictures of the 3 different known types of Queen. The War Queens are smallest, and though size doesn’t dictate authority, it’s unclear what significant differences there are. The War Queens still live as absolute royalty, they simply travel in hive ships and conquer the front lines. Peace Queens are much bigger –estimated by soldiers in the images-. They wear much more varying outfits than the War Queens, like dresses and robes, but made of every material imaginable –so the stories go-. They’re said to have been witnessed wearing the skin of one of the known unnamed races conquered by the Zarakyssns, jewels, fabrics from animal hair –including their own soft fuz-, and even foliage. But, not many have truly witnessed Peace Queens –not near as many who claim it-, so some of the materials are conjectured. The only image of the Queen of Queens is actually a painting found on a destroyed Zarak bulkhead. Like the Saurmynnyka, the Queen of Queens is revered in an almost holy fashion. But, Khla often wondered –privately of course- if the Saurmynnyka envied the Zarakyssn Queens.
But, that’s for another time. He has two War Queens attacking him and one attacking the human ships with the last pursuing the other two human ships. He may find the War Queens strangely attractive, but they are his enemy. And, their brutality to captives is reason enough to kill them.
“{Yarjen! Forward Tsall Quadrant shoring system is overheating!}”
Khla replies, “{Shut it down. Isolate all outer and sub-outer decks on that quadrant. Send engineering to cool down that unit and hold fire on that quadrant’s turrets. Perhaps they’ll spare it more damage. Turn the ship to angle the Tsall away from the hive ships.}”
“{As you wish, Yarjen!}”
“{Yarjen! We’re getting a report from hangar two! Unauthorized boarding!}”
Khla scoffs. Usually, Zarakyssns are wary of boarding Grodrrn ships. Grodrrns are resistant to their standard slaver weapons, and in combat, even a Grodrrn hatchling is worth thirty Zarak soldiers. And, that’s not being arrogant. The soldiers themselves are possibly more fragile than humans, and they’re far less crafty or intelligent. He replies, “{Repel boarders. Let no Zarakyssn-…}”
“{Apparently they’re human, Yarjen.}” Khla looks at the Nordzen reporting it with heavy skepticism. He replies, “{Take them to…}” He halts. If these humans are from the fleet, do they have a message for him? Did they want to hijack his ship like Dzor’s? He says calmly, “{Bring them to me.}”
***
Hancock and Lopez stand with their hands up. Twenty shocktroopers have weapons trained on them. They don’t seem to believe Hancock that they’re actually onboard to help. One even snarled that they need no help from ‘stonky mommols’.
One of the shocktroopers approaches. It takes Hancock’s rifle off of his back and passes it to another. It inspects the jetpack with a tug, but doesn’t rip it off. It then tries to take Lopez’s laptop. She instantly clutches it to her chest, whining, “Y-You can’t! Please! It’s not a weapon!”
Hancock scoffs quietly. In her hands, it’s the deadliest superweapon in the universe. The Grodrrn snarls at her, but she pleads, “Don’t! Please! I’m begging you!” It manages to pry it away from her, inspecting it. She pleads, “Be careful! Please!”
Another Grodrrn suddenly barks in their tongue, and it halts them all. He says something to the others, seemingly relaying something from a communicator. The one that has Lopez’s laptop points at her, and the other Grodrrn says one word with what Hancock recognizes as the Grodrrn nod. The Grodrrn with Lopez’s laptop grunts something to the others and starts walking away. Another one steps up behind Lopez and Hancock, shoving them hard and growling, “Move, Mommols.”
Hancock says as they follow the one with the laptop, “I’m telling you, if you don’t let us help, we’re all going to die. Us, you, all of us.”
The Grodrrn behind scoffs. Hancock adds, “We just want to talk to Baskylla Yarjen Craw. We have a battle plan that could shorten this battle greatly.”
The one behind growls, “Tolk too mooch.”
“Damn right! I’m trying to save both of our fleets-…” “We tack too Yarjen,” growls the one up front with Lopez’s laptop. “Yarjen deemond we breeng.”
Hancock relaxes, “Oh… Thank you.”
The Grodrrns lead deep into the innards of the ship. Each hit still quakes the ship, sometimes violently, but the cannon fire is quieter. If he didn’t know better, though, Hancock would believe they were being taken to the brig.
Grodrrns jog by in battle armor, not unlike the human ships. Helmdraavvs like Khla stand by to board fighters or shuttles, though Jardzen Khla seems to be withholding them for now. Female Grodrrns seem to hold many roles as well, from soldiers and pilots to medics and orderlies. Some have armor on, while others have cloth-only outfits.
The bridge is a sight to behold. Like the shuttles, every inch of wall, ceiling, and floor is video screen showing the outside. Some splotches of black exist, like those cameras are lost, but it’s a nearly-full view of the outside, minus the consoles and Grodrrns working.
The leading Grodrrn comes to a stop, handing Lopez’s laptop to another one in a chair. The one in the chair would be rather unassuming to the human eye. He’s a male, but he’s not particularly big like Dzor is. His outfit is pretty standard-looking Grodrrn military. He accepts Lopez’s laptop with his left hand, inspecting it, as he turns a resin-ball in his right fingers. Inside the resin ball appears to be a tiny pointed bone.
Grodrrns appear to be a heavily military society, or at the very least, their military seems to be pretty similar to the human ideals of professionalism. But, Grodrrns don’t seem to have many greetings or courtesies. If this is the bridge, none of the shocktroopers saluted or spoke in any way to indicate officers present. Hancock only catches the word ‘Yarjen’ from the Grodrrn who led them here because he was listening for it.
Baskylla Jardzen Khla is not much, if anything, like Dzor. He’s calm and serious, but doesn’t exude a particularly aggressive atmosphere. In fact, the shocktroopers around them are more ominous. Khla is not the biggest or oldest Grodrrn present, as indicated by the coloring and sheen of his scales. The Grodrrn giving orders near the front of the room could more easily pass for Khla than Khla himself. As the Grodrrns talk, Lopez’s hand gently finds and grips Hancock’s. He squeezes it gently in return. Hancock asks, “Baskylla Yarjen Craw?”
The shocktrooper and the presumed Khla both look at him. Khla replies, “Forgeev. Hoomin coostooms steel alleen to mih. Preeznors spick on your sheep? {Forgive. Human customs still alien to me. Prisoners speak on your ship?}”
Hancock replies in a friendly tone, “Yarjen Jor never stops talking. Always talking about how inferior we are. How he’d crush our bones given the chance…” A few of the Grodrrns snort their equivalents of chuckles. Hancock adds, “We let him talk. It lets him vent. Same with the others.” Hancock then says more seriously, “Look, it’s clear we all hate the roaches. And, it’s clearer we all need to get out of here. Let us help you beat these two capital ships, and in turn, you help us get away from the roaches at least. None of us win if they win.”
One of the other bridge Grodrrns taunts, “How yuu preepozz? Speel meelk on them? {How you propose? Spill milk on them?}” Several more, including the shocktroopers, growl joyously as they stamp their feet. Hancock’s gaze never leaves Khla. Khla says something quickly and casually to the others, and they settle down. He then says to Hancock, “We feet Zarakyssns many of hoomin leefteems. Hoomins sacrifick half oov fleet for oon patrol. {We fight Zarakyssns many of human lifetimes. Hoomins sacrifice half of fleet for one patrol.}”
Hancock nods, “True, we’re new to the universe. But, we intend to live. If you use your jump bubble now, the range their capitals are at should sever them.”
Another bridge Grodrrn retorts, “They deesroopt, hoomin.”
Hancock replies, “We know. And, we know it disables the engines. But, Lopez can reset them without cycling power to the ship. We literally JUST did it on one of ours.”
Khla, curious to see where the plan is going, asks, “What eez outcoom?”
Hancock looks at Lopez. She finally squeaks, “The jump bubbles isolate the interior quantity of space from the exterior quantity of space and shuttle the interior to a new location using temporodynamism to generate motion via the egg-shape of the bubble. Because atoms actually have a lot of space between them, any matter on the inside of the bubble is isolated from its counterpart on the outside, without regard to any structural properties of the material. Doing so instantly severs the two pieces, and we want to do it to the… um… Zarakyssn ships. Um, Y-Yarjen.” It’s clear Lopez rattled off every ounce of her knowledge about the jump drive –seemingly, anyways- to distract herself from her fear.
It worked, too. She looks around nervously as every Grodrrn around stares at her similarly to how humans stare at her.
One of the Grodrrns asks another something, and he replies. A third asks, “Eez right?”
Lopez squeaks defensively, “I-I’m still studying it, b-but…”
Khla bursts into Grodrrn laughter, stomping his feet as he roars jovially at the ceiling. The other Grodrrns watch, confused. Khla says rather warmly, “We boot hoomble soldiers, hoomin. Boot; {We but humble soldiers, human. But;}” Khla leans forward and hands Lopez her laptop. He adds warmly, “Sonds sond to mih urrs. {Sounds sound to my ears.}” He speaks in Grodrrn for a moment. The other Grodrrns look at each other. It seems to be about how the Grodrrn situation is indeed more dire than the shocktroopers let on. The bridge Grodrrns nod, replying something with ‘Yarjen’ in it.
Khla looks at them and says calmly, “Whut we do, feemahl hoomin?”
***
“{Queens of the sky shine. Never alone, twinkling forever. Daughters of the Divine Queen roam. Blessed are we who stand together in their light. May we shine as they when we join the Divine Queen’s embrace. Together, forever.}”
The proverb has existed since the dawn of time. So sayeth the Stones. Proverbs and prophecies have guided the Path into the great home of the Queens Before. They have foretold many truths of the cosmos, guided many into joining a divine place among the Infinite Sisters.
When she was just a larva, she was told many stories. It was her window into the universe until she was able to see it for herself. From the moment she was born, like her sisters, like her mothers before and daughters to be, she was destined to this moment, as all moments. All is within and without her control. It is her path.
So sayeth the Stones.
She shall not kill. Death must come on its own for the soul to join her star when the time comes. The brightness of all stars is determined by the souls they united. She must hold them, study them, tame them, and rule them until their time comes.
So sayeth the Stones.
All must join. For the Divine Queen to once more show herself to her glorious Shining Daughters, all must become one. Many resist, but their understanding is lacking. They have been led astray, and blasphemy and doubt have dimmed the Divine Queen’s light.
So sayeth the Stones.
None will go to waste. She will harvest what is needed, but never all. A world once of life may once more reseed when the time comes. And, on this world, all sins and blasphemy will be cleansed away. One by one, she will cleanse until she joins her foremothers and sisters, or the Divine Queen reveals herself.
So sayeth the Stones.
Blessed is the heart held pure and absent all questions.
Why say they no questions?
Her vision starts to clear. Her body feeds her feeling once more. She is floating weightlessly. She can hear again. Alarms chirp subtly around her. They need not be loud. If they are audible, then she knows they are there. That is all. Lost communication. Air burden high. Damage detected.
She rubs excess moisture from her eyes. Why do these beings resist so fervently? Do they not understand what awaits them? What guides their path?
She looks around. She’s in one of the boarding vessels. She can feel only one.
The vessel’s pilot looks back at her. At once, she knows her situation. Her ship is destroyed by the strange fleet. She doesn’t remember an abundant amount after her Zziiku was hit by the Nizzkurrezz –a survivor of a previously-believed united race-. The pain the Zziiku experienced transferred, and coupled with her falling soldiers, nearly killed her then.
These beings are not Fievegalizz, the blaspheming race that have never had a single unified member. The soldier-sized beings are the only other race the Fievegal seems to be ALLOWING to command ships with the Fievegalizz jump technology. All whom the Fievegallizz conquer are enslaved, bred in continuing societies, but kept as little more than fodder for their armies.
This new race, though, has never been encountered, and that terrifies her. Their technology looked cobbled together in ways even she would never allow. They fought to the last in many of the skirmishes. If these beings are more numerous, or if they gain better technology, they might stand with the Fievegallizz as opposition.
And yet, she can’t help but wonder WHY. Why do races resist to their very deaths? If they feel they are being forced, is her path truly a pure one?
Pain shoots through her head briefly. She touches the location lightly, wincing at a burn. She is wounded, likely by shrapnel. But, someone patched her injury. She looks more around her surroundings. Fourteen of her guard are strapped into the seats, each with their own blade driven up through their heads. Sadness and emptiness surround her. She knows at once from the pilot why they did it. It is to conserve air for her. Behind her, packed in with her, is an atmospheric conditioning unit, but it requires more power than a boarding craft can muster. There is also her emergency sealed combat suit.
The pilot somehow knows, so now she knows, most of the haulers are intact. If she can get to one, she can survive long enough in space for the fleet that just arrived to rescue her.
More fleets have arrived? Which of her sisters might it be? Any she knows?
This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Something else strange nags at her, though. A Fievegallizz battleship came in right behind the four Queens that came, and chaos has ensued.
But, war does not strike shocking to her. Again, this strange, reslilient race does. How is it the Fievegallizz have come to aid a race unlike any other they’ve conquered? Do they trade? If so, the Fievegallizz trade their military technology?
But wait, the Fievegallizz on the ship where they seem to be focused were not in any combat gear. So what is the nature of their relationship?
For now, she continues to gather her senses, relaxing to the floor of the ship. In her unconsciousness, she laid an egg. But, it will not survive without being tended to. She sets it carefully aside, in case she survives.
What else is strange are her soldiers. It is said, few soldiers reach natural longevity, but those that do gain wisdom over their years, and in rare cases, enough to operate independently. One of her guards must have had the foresight and mental independence to have her taken to a boarding shuttle to escape, and when the time was running out for air because of her size, that soldier made the last decision for his or her Queen.
Not unlike these new aliens or the Fievegallizz who aided them on their ship. Is this what disjointed minds fight for? Independence? Wisdom? Choice?
Choice…
All of her life has been planned, structured, taught, and progressed. She doesn’t crave wanton freedom like some of her peers did in youth, but she does take interest in the concept of choice.
She is a Vss’ssrn’nrr, one of the roaming Queens responsible for uniting races with hers. Her specialty, chosen for her based on the day she was born, is xenomedicine, or accommodating the needs of newly united races to keep them alive until as natural of a passing as possible occurs. After her care, she turns them over to a Vss’riilii’nrr to be educated on the Path and the Divine Queen. They rarely leave the united territory. It is the duty of her sisters, the Vss’hhuonnshii’nrr, to explore and unite beyond the united territory. To heal, she must learn. To learn, she must study or observe. And, there is nothing to study on this race.
Observation will be difficult, though. They are now hostile, and she has a single pilot harnessed into this ship and an egg. And, without a drone, there won’t be many to follow it. She’s likely to be on her own.
She is trained for survival, though. Her kit is not ideal, but the atmospheric conditioner will keep her alive for a time. If she can make a sturdy power source on one of the haulers, perhaps she can follow or observe the new race.
The boarding craft could try to reach the other Queens, but Fievegallizz ships are as unbelievably combat effective as their soldiers. She’d likely be shot down or potentially killed on the other Queen’s ship.
And, for some strange reason, she’s not even hearing the bustling, low roar of mental chatter from the other Queens, even the Gkuriinu’nrr. It’s quiet, and though she feels rather empty, she also feels rather serene. So, even if she boarded another Queen’s ship, she might not be recognized by the soldiers and killed on the spot as a Nrronn. Nrronn are near-braindead after a few days, so they’re not tolerated. They’re simply put out of their misery and recycled.
Plus, it’s kinda nice not having the thoughts of the other Queens influencing her thoughts. She feels clear. She’s disappointed with her defeat, but she is still alive. Her destiny is so. And, her heart is telling her to go the route of curiosity. She will either die a complete death, or she will learn something as yet unlearned.
She instructs, “{Take us to the closest operable hauler.}” The pilot affirms, flying the ship more directly than his slow arc. The Queen looks through his eyes one last time at her fleet. It took many walks on the Path with many elder drones to achieve her army and earn the right to better drones through victory. She learned through her medical instructor that Queens tend to have better success when their body is in an elated state, which is why there are often surges in a Queen’s population –and thus, status- after major victories, prophetic signs, and births of future Queens under such prophetic signs.
Needless to say, her status is about as low as it can get. The pilot cannot exit the boarding craft, meaning she effectively has just the egg. Oh, how she loathes tending larvae again. But, survival is work. If she didn’t have to work for a living, she’d be a Zvunezz’nrr. She gently holds the egg up to her cheek, feeling its temperature. Okay for now. Just thirteen to twenty two more steps. She cradles the egg in her arm, inspecting her kit. Thankfully, her savior brought anything at all. She has about nine steps of food rations, which she can stretch longer, plus as undesireable as it is, the bodies of her guards, the atmospheric conditioner, which has about two, maybe three days on its own, and virtually indefinitely if she can tie into a hauler. There’s a medical kit with self-sterilizing tools, magnification lenses, some antibacterial medicines effective on all bacteria, but they tend to wreak havoc on species that have symbiotic bacteria, a torch with cutting and cauterizing settings, with fine adjusts for species, nine steps of fluids for her, and a ‘Queen’s shot’, a weapon meant for her to defend herself. It fires a large, very lethal spread as a way to let her escape, and she has several shots for it.
The pilot informs her, “{Arriving, my Queen. May you find safety on your path to brightness.}”
She replies kindly, “{Thank you for everything.}” The vessel docks, and the Queen puts her helmet and suit on. She peeks out into the corridor. The vessel is well-lit, but smoke and yellowish haze fill the halls. She’s fortunately not a fully-grown Queen, or she wouldn’t fit in these corridors. She’s about half-again taller than a soldier, and her abdomen and thorax are suited to one of her highest duties, so a good bit more robust than a soldier. She pulls the A.C. and her survival kit behind her, listening diligently for signs of her new foe. She’s a short ways from the hangar where her haulers landed. She sneaks carefully and quickly.
She reaches the hangar. Something even the Fievegalizz don’t know is that a Queen –especially a younger Queen like her- can handle the neural load of deceased soldiers for the brief while that they still have impulses. So, when the big male opened the alien door, she was able to witness and learn. She opens the door blocking her way to the hangar, checking alertly and slipping inside. She sees some aliens laying out their own as many cry and others yell. They don’t notice her, so she quickly moves to the hauler out of sight. But, as she does, she notices it.
One of the new aliens is sitting against the wall, tucked out of the way and its legs crushed by a metal crate. She looks around. The others don’t seem to know this one is here. It’s a secluded area.
A dilemma forms. A dilemma that would be solved almost instantly if she could congress with the other Queens. But, for possibly the first time, she’s completely on her own.
Does she attempt to help the creature? If it draws attention to her before she can hide, she’s doomed. But, it looks unconscious –assuming it isn’t dead-.
But, this race is resisting unification. This makes them blasphemers, and thereby subject to no kindness. So sayeth the Stones.
So what is this feeling holding her in this moment? With so much noise in her head normally, she’s never noticed or felt anything like this. And, if she did, it was quickly reconciled by consensus.
The feeling is compelling her to help. Or rather, it’s compelling her against walking away. What should she choose?
Deciding her heart has gotten her here, she chooses to follow it now. She sets her kit down, ensuring her egg is safe from the alien air, and she retrieves her medical supplies. She leans down, listening for signs of life. It breathes with cycling lungs. Two, it sounds like. Pulsating heart. Is that four stages per cycle? It’s fast, but it sounds like four. Blood is red. Iron content? Sounds right. Amount lost to body volume; ratio dangerous. Will likely need a transfusion. For now, focus on crush damage and stopping further bleeding.
She steadies herself. There is no data on this species, but she intends to try. No better way to learn than on the run. She hopes they’re similar to the warm-blooded avian cadaver she trained on. She gives herself an injection to speed up all of her neural responses, which seems to slow down time for her.
With swift and practiced hands, she lays out her tools; cutter, surgical tools, antibiotic –which should be safe for sterilizing the immediate area long enough for her to work-, metal bone brackets, and stapler.
She hefts the crate quietly away, but quickly. She cinches her binders around the creature’s legs. And, with merciless diligence and speed, she amputates.
***
Russel Right hears a strange whine, like an old cathode ray tube in a TV or old computer monitor. It stands out because it wasn’t present a moment ago. He’d been sitting on the floor, wanting desperately for a radio signal from Levi. It didn’t really occur to him back when he sent her to Dzor’s ship that she would be in danger. He inherently believed so much in her abilities, danger never occurred to him. She didn’t disappoint, of course, but he just ripped the port dock bridge off with its own underslung crane with his stupid attempt to save her life. He only meant to shake them. Instead, he probably killed her.
He’s trying to put that dark thought out of his mind, though. She’s the best. She’s resourceful. And, more than once, Hancock was there to save her in the few ways she couldn’t save herself. Together, they’re invincible. That has to be right. Two young people; a genius scientist and a bright and brave soldier; they can take on the universe.
Kenzie, Hancock’s girlfriend, seems to notice Mr. Right notice the sound. But, then she seems to hear it, too. She asks, “You hear that too?”
“Whine with bacon sizzle?”
She nods. He asks, “Do… we investigate?”
“I… I dunno… Maybe we should tell the marines?”
He nods in agreement. But, many of them won’t give him the time of day, so to speak. They’re busy tending to injuries, air lock-ejecting bug bodies, and patching holes. He shrugs, walking towards the noise. Kenzie jogs after him, whispering, “What if it’s one of those things?”
He replies quietly, “Life is risk. Happiness is bigger risk. And, success is putting everything on the line.”
She tugs at his arm, urging, “Be serious, Sir! Please! We…”
“If it fires at us, the marines will know instantly. If we scream, they’ll know instantly. I’m not the bravest man alive by far. But, a man who can scream like an infant can still be useful.” He smirks and winks at her, jogging stealthily closer as he more precisely locates the source behind some crates.
When he can see, he is stunned in fear. Kenzie was right. It is a roach, and a big one. He is unable to scream instantly, which actually works out. He gets a chance to see what’s going on. Moving with blinding speed, the creature seems to have disassembled a marine’s legs and is reassembling the amputated shins like a jigsaw puzzle.
He has just enough time to snatch Kenzie’s head and cover her mouth, whispering, “Wait! Watch.”
The two watch as the roach reattaches each leg, using what looks like a laser combined with a soldering iron to attach everything vital at a microscopic level, as if it’s gluing his legs back on. What’s more, the amputation was below the knee, meaning if it gets the nerves right, he’ll be able to walk again.
Mr. Right has stood on asteroids and the moon. He’s orbited mars, played golf off of Mount Everest, fought a kangaroo –or more accurately, had his butt royally kicked-, eaten monkey brains, seen the Mariana Trench with his own eyes, and he’s an untold number of lightyears away from Earth. It’s not often his breath is taken away, but he just watched a surgery take place in a couple of minutes. He pulls Kenzie out of sight when the alien stands up. He can hear it scuttle further, towards one of the haulers. He glances to see the patient still lying there just in time for an object to roll in. It looks like a metal canister with a grenade-“BANG!” A bright white light and loud bang disorient Mr. Right, and marines shout, “SHOTS FIRED! SECURE THE AREA!” Marines storm toward them, and Mr. Right finally releases Kenzie, who slaps him. She screams, “ARE YOU CRAZY!?”
Mr. Right says to the marines, “Bright bang-no…- FLASH bomb went off. Man down.”
The marines frantically swarm around, repeating, “MAN DOWN!”
“Get him over to triage, now!”
Kenzie yells, “WHAT ABOUT THE BUG!?”
The marines halt, and they all look at them. Some instantly start scanning the area thoroughly. Mr. Right winces. He says, “Promise you won’t get mad?”
One of the more senior marines grips his collar, yelling, “ZERO PATIENCE, RIGHT! WHERE IS IT!?”
“It healed him!” shouts Mr. Right. “Or, it tried. That’s why his legs look like that. This one isn’t like the others.”
“TELL US WHERE IT IS!” The marine booms, “FIND IT!”
Mr. Right says calmly, “You kill this thing, and we lose out on an opportunity. I’ll help you capture it. ALIVE. Stays that way.”
“YOU will help us find it, and I won’t turn you in to Captain Murdock.”
Murdock’s voice says gruffly from nearby, “Capture it. That’s an order.”
“Captain?” asks the marine, surprised.
Captain Murdock is usually laid back, and he’s wearing his signature Hawaiian shirt over his mandatory Navy uniform. He was a civilian Captain before the fall of Earth, and he’s resisted Navy total control to some degree. He continues, “You know me, I’m the first to screw with Russell if the opportunity arises, but he’s right. If we got one cornered, we’re better off catchin’ it. We get Kane over here to talk with it, try to figure out at least what they want, we’ll get pretty far.”
The marine sighs. “Yes sir. All marines! We corner and capture! We get one of their blasters unbolted? It work?”
“Yes Senior Chief!”
“Good work! Let’s move!”
Mr. Right leads them around the corner with Kenzie close by him. They stalk around behind the haulers until they run into marines circling from the other side. The Senior Chief asks, “Anyone see it?”
“No Senior Chief!”
“The hell’d it go!?”
Kenzie tugs Mr. Right’s sleeve, asking, “No one pulled these racks out, did they?” He looks at where she points. Metal racks are stacked rather neatly against the wall. They’re not human in design, based on the way the joints are formed, as well as the pattern of the ribs and cross-ties.
The Senior Chief cautiously approaches the ship. He whispers, “Something’s running inside.”
***
Pounding on the hauler’s hull startles her. Has she been discovered? The creatures speak loudly, pounding on the hull again. What should she do? She won’t likely get far, even with her Queen’s Shot. She has no idea how to communicate with them to ask for mercy, so they’ll likely shoot her as a soldier and nothing more.
Something kept her from fleeing, though. Curiosity? Fear? The fact that the engines have all been damaged? She could likely fix or compensate for the engines, but she didn’t.
She wants to understand how and why these creatures are the way they are. She wants to believe diplomacy can work for once. If not to unify, then to understand. She never had the quiet in her mind to wonder things like this. It was always judgement, competition, duty, unify, blasphemers… So much noise.
She doesn’t want them to cut open or blow up the ship. She only has the one atmospheric conditioner, and their air is toxic to her. She puts her helmet back on, turns on the plasma door, and lowers the ramp.
The ship is surrounded by the alien soldiers. No Fievegallizz, though. She’s thankful. It seems they’re only on the one ship, other than the battleship. The creatures shout at her, but she doesn’t understand any of it. “{Hands up! Don’t move!}” Some start towards the plasma door. Thinking quickly, she chirps frantically, waving her hands at them.
They all tense. “{I said don’t move!}”
One of the creatures with a strange, colorful outer garment on its torso, speaks more calmly, seemingly to the others, “{Easy, marines. She doesn’t understand. This is why we need Kane. Try to sign to it to sit tight, or we’ll kill it.}”
“{I’ll try, Captain.}” That one steps forward. She tries to wave it off, but it stops before the plasma door on its own, showing her its hands as it sets its weapon down. It points calmly at her with its finger. Is it trying to communicate with her? It points at her again, and then traces a line towards the floor at the plasma door. It points at her once more, and then at the floor inside the hauler. Does it want her to lay down? Sit? Or simply stay inside? Trying to clarify, she gestures at herself, and then traces the whole floor of the ship. The creature responds with a new expression, glaincing at the others who slap their own hands together. “{That wasn’t so bad.}”
“{Make sure it understands not to leave. Signal it exiting and a gun; inside, no gun.}”
“{Gotcha, Captain.}” The one communicating with her gestures at her, and then thinks for a moment. It steps suddenly to the plasma door, startling her, but stopping in time and turning around and walking down the ramp. One of the other creatures steps up and stops it, aiming its weapon at its own comrade. They make a gesture with some sounds, and the one communicating collapses. She’s a little confused. Did it just die?
It gets back up, pointing at her and then the ramp, and it picks up its gun. It points at her and then the inside, putting the gun down. It seems to now be waiting for her approval. She thinks she gets it. It seems, even if she doesn’t, they’re content to leave her inside, which is good. She points at herself, traces the inside, and sits down. Maybe that’ll make sense to them.
The creatures as a whole relax some. Good. They seem to be in agreement. She can study them from inside the ship, if by no other way than how they treat her.
Suddenly, a bright white light flashes around the Fievegal battleship. It’s trying to jump. The creatures seem surprised, “{Khla’s jumping!}” “{Damn! No way we can handle-…}” The bubble vanishes, and the ship is still present. It’s been interdicted successfully. The Fievegallizz are the most formidable foes the Queen has, but they still don’t know how the interdiction technology works. Their jumps are not fast enough to avoid it. Especially not with potentially four Queen ships around it to…
She watches in astonishment. Those two Queen ships in view drift apart in four total pieces, two each. Explosions flash from the apostle ships exploding from similar damage. And just as quickly, two flashes dart by with streams of cannon fire. The two Queen ships explode. Seconds later, the Fievegal battleship’s engines glow, and it turns to fire on the apostle ships remaining.
She can’t believe it. Not only did the Fievegallizz sacrifice its jump, it was able to recover its engines seconds later. The Fievegal’s most brutal flaw is that an attempted jump locked up their engines. It’s been that way for hundreds of walks. Since the Fievegal was encountered. The Fievegal learned not to jump until they defeated all ships, and to flee as soon as they had a window.
A small part of her wonders if her sisters survived. A much bigger part of her wonders how the Fievegallizz learned this all of a sudden. And, she has a working theory on that.
***
Captain Long yells, “HANG ON!” The Polonia and Andromeda are speeding through orbit at comparable speeds to the International Space Station. In the grand scheme of space, it doesn’t feel like much, but they’re going to blow by the skirmish by hundreds of miles, firing on the run.
She yells, “FIRE ALL! KEEP FIRING UNTIL WE PASS!” She’s feeling a rush. They can win this. For humanity, for the Grodrrns, and for the Cave Queen. They’re so close.
Suddenly, as the cannons thunder, a white flash ignites around Khla’s battleship. Her navigator yells, “JESUS GOD! HE’S JUMPING OUT!”
“WE NEED TO TURN!” screams someone else.
“NO CHANCE! BRACE!”
Only God knows what the consequences of flying through an active bubble would be. They barely know what happens with being inside one. It’s too late, though. They’re seconds from impact.
The bubble vanishes just as quickly, and Khla’s ship is still present. Long has just enough time to see the Zarakyssn ships splitting in two, just like the Honolulu. She can’t believe it. Khla sacrificed his jump to cripple the Zarakyssn War Queens.
They rip by the ships, just underneath. The Polonia fired volley after volley at the one, and the Andromeda fired at the other. Long spins, jogging to the window. Fiery explosions rip the ships to shreds, and they both explode. Their artillery rounds at normal speeds are good. Accelerated above mach 15 or so in vacuum; nothing made simply of metal is surviving. The bridge cheers, and Long silently prays for Khla, that none of the collateral costs him any further.
As the ships shrink into the distance, she can already see Khla’s ship firing bright bolts of blue and green fire at the last remaining Zarakyssn capital ship.
Long takes a breather, saying, “Bring us about. Engines all stop. Begin deceleration.” “Aye, Captain,” replies the Leehelm, just as relieved as the auburn-haired Captain.
By the time they reach the fleet again, the Providence has towed the Honolulu and Argonaut into proximity with Khla’s ship, and the Polonia and Andromeda join them. The captains and Khla all join a video conference. Long asks, “Everyone we care about in range?” They all nod. “Good. Providence, commence jump.”
Murdock replies, “No can do, Cap. Lost our, uh… I dunno. Something makes it work. Sorry.”
Khla replies, “Richorging. Meenutes. Mibih, four. {Recharging. Minutes. Maybe four.}”
Kane replies, “We got it. Jumping now. Everyone hang on.” The bubble ignites, and a sense of comfort lost in moments finally starts to touch Long again. She sits down in her chair and exhales. She says softly, “Good work, everyone. Good work.” She sniffles, letting herself cry tears of joy and relief. It was long fought, terrifying, and is finally over. Though, Khla is still an unknown factor, Long chooses to have hope. They’ve made it this far.
***