*…..thicc…. Ith…. Da… lose… rty….. ond*
BIGMAC pulled lead at 7G internal, and Concord claimed her 8th victory of the engagement. The pirate fighter was set aflame as its main drives exploded. ‘That was English!’ The realization screamed into his consciousness.
“FIZZ! Get me that signal!” He yelled.
“ON IT! Laz Incoming!!! 228 by 090!” Came Lyrian’s instant reply
Mac cranked on the stick to reverse his roll to dodge another capital ship volley of laser. The laser weapons were instantaneous travel weapons, impossible to dodge if they had a proper targeting solution. These barges had no such targeting solutions on Concord; they must have been using their optical arrays. They could obviously track him enough to attempt to lay laser fire along his predictive path. Unfortunately for them, even with Concord safety limited to 9G for Lyri’s sake, Concord was far more maneuverable than anything on the field this day. The ship-to-ship laser and plasma weapons being volleyed at him simply couldn’t keep up.
It was her saving grace. Concord was not built for a stand-up fight, but she was in one. Home wing was now down to 3 ships and Ivar had lost 2 of his own pilots. They were the only two wings left standing from planetary defense. Surviving Delmar’s capital ships were spread through the system, with the only 3 that could have responded already engaged. They were fighting a desperately outnumbered screening action, trying to fight through the edges of the enemy fleet to get between the planet and the pirates. Everything else left in Delmar’s arsenal was on hard burn for the homeworld, the closest one being three hours out. There were fifteen or so enemy fighters left, and they were now screening the pirate capital-ships. Concord could not risk loosing a nuclear tipped Phoenix until the fighters were gone. Mac had gotten 2 of his Fox2’s off at one of the barges, the first overloading its shields and the second impacted amidships. That barge was currently disabled, falling toward the planet slowly, belching flaming atmosphere and charred bodies from the hole in her side. Mac had wasted 5 more missiles trying to get another capital ship. Whoever the commander was had adjusted, and each missile was kamikaze’d by a fighter, failing to reach its target. He hates it when the enemy wa……
“Ithaca, Ithaca, Ithaca Danger close thirty seconds to firing” Lyri got the signal cleaned up and it repeated one more time.
“Holy shit..” Mac breathed… he keyed the frequency Lyri had cleaned up, “This is Cobra 224! Friendlies in the cone! I repeat Friendlies on the cone! Request 60 seconds and bearing of incoming!” He prayed whoever was out there received him. He snapped to the Delmar Tactical frequencies, “This is Mackenzie! Emergency break!!! All forces make for the North Pole!!! Danger close incoming imminent!! Make for the northern pole!”
——————————————————————
-4 ‘months’ earlier-
“All that’s missing is pumpkin-spiced everything. I can’t believe I’m missing that flavor” Mac chuckled. He and Lyri were currently arm in arm. Lyri had her hair down a Delmar version of a French braid with leaves, vines, and fall-seasoned flowers woven in for the celebration. It had taken her most of the morning with the help of Fie. They were currently outside of the great hall. The clearing around the building was stuffed to the brim with food vendors, trinket tents, and themed children’s play areas.
Traditional religious dancers pranced through the crowd as they celebrated the plentiful year. The women dancers were covered in vines and flowers woven into their outfits, some even going so far as to weave foliage down to the tip of their tails along their mane. Inside was more for adults. Food, drink, and the dance floor were the defining features of the evening, and Mac was treated to a combination of traditional dances mixed with the Waltz he had introduced gliding around the dance floor. Tristens wife walked up with 4 kids in tow, as they headed for outside. She had a slight but pronounced baby bump.
“Another!” Lyri exclaimed.
“He said something about ‘being inspired’. You wouldn’t know anything about that would you!” She laughed.
“Sorry, our bad.” Mac grinned before all three started laughing.
“Ma! We’ll miss the toss!!!” The youngest protested
“Oh, we can’t have that can we.” she said, waving goodbye and waddling slightly as the group made off toward the door
“I forget your species likes large families, sometimes.” Mac chuckled.
“Hopefully she can manage while Tristen is gone. Those two usually time it better” Lyri’s retort had just a little edge to it, but she pushed passed it. “I see your ‘waltz’ has caught on.”
“I probably shouldn’t request ‘footloose’. I’ve already created enough cultural pollution already.” Mac’s smile was unrepentant, and Lyri lost to a burble of giggles as they escaped her control. They had watched that movie during her Gravity acclimation rest days.
The festivities continued for a full week, every other day had a traditional harvest celebration or play, and the rest was a free for all. The weather had started to turn from the low 30’s C and began dipping into the 25, 26 deg range. Lyrian had surprised Mac with a thin Delmar sweater that almost mimic’d an earth turtleneck on the last day of the festival. Delmar would dip down to 10 deg C in the next few months and Delmar agriculture would take a break until ‘spring’. Hydroponics had made the actual break unnecessary, but some traditions were good for the mind and soul.
Mac was still in a T shirt or a Hawaiian shirt and jeans. He wouldn’t need his jacket until almost the winter celebration.
“You never told me what this festival is called.” he mentioned as they grabbed some food.
“Lia’Guris, the winter celebration is ‘Brrush’Girmon’” she pronounced the second one with a long roll of the ‘r’ like she was warding off the cold.
“That doesn’t sound like Delmar.” Mac gave her a confused look.
“We don’t know what it is. Whatever language created these festivals is long gone.” She mumbled between bites. She was eating equal to Mac nowadays. They had followed the plan laid out by her father.
‘My god, your perfection’ Mac looked over her as she ate. She had all the power, density, and agility of a human female professional cross-fitter, but she still fit in every piece of clothing she had since before he met her. She had never bulked out, but her body rippled with hidden power when she moved. In some cases, Mac had observed other Delmar giving her concerned glances… The same ones, Mac realized, that they gave him on occasion when he let his more human tendencies slip into his everyday life.
After the celebration, things wound down. For next two months, Mac worked with the professors Grem to polish Delmar’s first military-grade GAUSS weapons for fleet use. The capital ship development of the Gauss weapons were experiencing problems, so they had moved on to fitting the attackers while a research team attempted to smooth out the wrinkles. Using cartridge-based ammunition in capital ships was floated and then rejected. The Delmar-made capacitor cartridge cases simply couldn’t be recharged efficiently enough for the velocities they were capable of. It was decided on a power bank-style system using larger versions of Concord's caseless ammunition. Sadly, the first production installations were almost a year out because of slow development.
Lyrian had begun Helyon wide BFM classes in preparation for Mac to teach the advanced classes in the spring. The end of spring was the annual tribe-on-tribe war games where the entire system’s defense forces would cycle through the simulators in a rolling mock battle for Delmar. It was going to be Tribe Helyons turn to “invade” and Mac was looking forward to it. Helyon had taken backlash from the other tribes for investing in ‘obselete technology’ and Mac was invested in some payback.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
Lyrian started getting cuddlier as the weather turned. Delmar was on the warm side for Mac, especially when sleeping. Delmar were warm-blooded, but had a 89.2 deg F normal body temperature with skin temperatures dropping into the 70s when sleeping. Night times were nicely balanced as she loved his warmth; and he enjoyed her coolness to balance the moist jungle heat.
Another quirk of Delmar society showed itself in that, aside from a wood or heating element fireplace, there was no climate control. There was powered air circulation. But no HVAC systems in any Delmar homes. They simply didn’t need them. Mac had taken to opening the screened windows at night. The clearing that the airstrip had required funneled cool ocean air in nicely, the extra cuddles were a bonus.
——————————————————————
It had been 3 months since voyage start, and Captain Silu was looking over his charts. They were back at He’rth station with a second delivery of fertilizer to the farming planet below. He had two days left on his offload and would be taking the first of the cash crops to market in the core. His console beeped as a new message marked urgent arrived. It was in a text from his old friend in the GHO. It wasn’t like Ami to send an urgent message.
20 minutes later, he had canceled his next contract. He typed a quick message and encrypted it on an old tribe Helyon cipher he hoped would hold up. He hit send just as his door was kicked open by a K’Claram male. The Assassin stormed in with a knife in each clawed hand.
Silu had been chastised his entire life for continuing to wear his officers’ saber even during his tour in the DCDF. he had stopped taking backlash for keeping it razor sharp after an unfortunate boarding incident that almost took his arm. He kicked his chair out of the way and drew the weapon in a practiced slicing draw… ignoring the pained heat as one blade was buried in his gut by the monstrosity. The operative had disabled the emergency coms systems, but the bellows of hate and agony coming from the captains’ quarters quickly drew security.
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Mac was enjoying a rare morning in the kitchen. Lyri was still sleeping soundly, although that was possibly going to change, when the morning breeze kicked up. Mac was cooking something he had not shown her yet, so at least he had an out. He had finally found an appropriate bread and he was in the process of introducing His Delmar Bride to French Toast. He was paring it with an omelet filled with bacon, ‘onion’ (or near enough) and a veggie that tasted fairly close to a bell pepper. Bulk Milk wasn’t a thing in Delmar Society. Mac had found small bottles of basically half and half that was dedicated for cooking and had to make do. Breakfast citrus-based fruit juices were a thing; and Mac had figured out a couple of local flavors that blended into a passable version of OJ.
“tha fios agad air na riaghailtean (You know the rules)…” an ominous sing song soprano growled at him, he felt a genuine spike of anger from her, just a little.
“Recipe ùr an-diugh. Tha mi air a bhith ga shàbhaladh gus an lorg mi a h-uile dad (New recipe today. I have been saving it until I found everything),” Mac grinned up at her, still mixing up the French toast batter.
“OH?” Her annoyance turned into curiosity as she sauntered over, wearing one of his Hawaiian shirts who’s length barely made her descent. She had swapped to English, so he followed suit.
“It’s called French toast, and it’s over 2000 Human years old.” he said, showing her what he was doing and handing her the printout of the recipe He had stolen from His Uncle Martin. “If it turns out right, I’m going to be sending that to Martin. He’ll be a legend.”
She dipped her pinky finger into the batter and dodged a playful smack before sticking it and her prize into her mouth, sucking the batter clean suggestively at him. “Hmm, promising. I’ll pardon you,” she leaned over and teased his ear with a fang, “for now.”
“Hmm, so possessive.” He scooped her to him by the small of her back and planted a kiss on her lips, “Don’t threaten me with a good time, we’ll miss breakfast.”
She leaned in and pressed herself to his chest, “Fuck Breakfast” she growled at him.
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Jakruth glowered at the tactical readout on his office console's screen. He had received an addendum en route and dispatched a Barge to the ordered task. It had been a month since he had heard anything, the check-in transmission was 2 ‘days’ late. They were no longer the Living Dead. Jakruth did not like his dwindling situation. He was down to 6 Barges and the 3 Frontier Brigantines. Almost 20 percent of his firepower was gone. He would have to adjust. He had 2 weeks left on his run through Subspace. The engines were taxed to their limits. Fates would decide if They would be capable of another jump on arrival. He was stuck in formation.
Course adjustments were not a capability in subspace without dropping out. Jakruth had arranged his fleet in an attack formation before the jump with the Brigantines leading in a three ship ‘v’ shape with the barges in the middle to respond to attack or press any advantage. What he could time was his drop out of subspace. It was dangerous, but they were the undead of Void’s Revenge. They would make do.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________
Mac and Lyri were both back in the kitchen finishing up Breakfast and Dishes. Today was Mac’s first lecture on advanced atmospheric and interplanetary fighter combat. Lyri had been teasing him about being a low-key good teacher, using herself as irrefutable proof.
“Hey love, you still meeting with Frie today?” He asked between trips to the cupboard with clean plates.
“yea, She want’s to meet at Himar’s wings hanger. She is thinking about going into a defense wing.” Lyri mentioned over her shoulder.
“You think she can do it?” Mac asked.
“She was a great pilot in flight school, but it’s been a while since I have flown with her. We will see.” was Lyri’s response, putting away the last of the cookware.
“Mine!” Mac shouted as he won the dash for the Keys to Vito. Receiving a pout from Lyri, “Oh common.” He grumped until she pulled him into a kiss.
“Drop me off?” She asked.
“Sure, just let me gra….” Mac began before both of their wrist Chronos rang with a ring tone they only used for Darclemus.
Mac read the message first and was halfway to the air car as Lyri grabbed her poncho and sprinted to meet him.
It was Traveler, she was burning Hard for orbit…
_________________________________________________________________________________________________
Doctor Icario was sitting in his office on Traveler… covered in to many other people’s blood…
*Doc, we are entering orbit. The hospital shuttle will be here in 5.* Marg’s voice barely registered.
Traveler had Burned out her Subspace Drive to get here, she had run on minimum system to shunt everything into weapons and engines. She had gotten as close to relativistic speeds as she could before jumping out of Argorania, making the 6 week trip in 2 by destroying her drives in the process. It had been a running firefight all the way to the jump point by a pirate barge with weapons to well maintained for its ilk. Traveler was hurt. She had lost 4 of her 10 Flak guns and 6 of her 9 Laser cannon turrets. She was venting atmosphere from a dozen different micro-fractures with the main breeches from incoming fire having been sealed. Icario thanked the gods of the void that Silu had taken Mac’s advice, calling for helmets on before depressurizing the entirety of Travler’s Insides. It had meant that many of the actual hits she took were not subject to flash oxygen fires and secondary damage. Mac’s Upgrades had barely saved them. Letting them disarm, then disable their attacker. The Barge had fallen away under asemetric thrust as Traveler took out its Larboard side main drives..
His Captain and oldest friend was stable.. but in bad shape. Icario prayed he would make it long enough to get to a hospital. Captain Silu was going to need at least 3 new artificial or regrown Organs. He had been practically disemboweled when Security found him slumped in his chair with a decapitated K’Claram at his feet. He was going to lose his ‘liver’ and most of his small intestines at a minimum. Nanites could do a lot, but they needed a foundation of good structure to work with. If the damage is too great, there is nothing for the Nanites to use as a foundation, and they tended to not produce survivable results.
He stepped out into the Bio Bed room just as the Medical Shuttle EMTs stepped in from the corridor, “Bed 2. He won't like it. But He is the worst off, of the living. I’ll handle him if he survives to complain,”. Icario was breaking Delmar tradition. The captain usually disembarked last. He didn’t care. Silu wasn’t in any condition to overrule him.
“I’ll be along after the rest are evacuated. Tell the Hospital to prep for the surgery and I’ll be joining to assist. I don’t think my hands are steady enough right now.” He instructed the Lead EMT.
Inside of 10 minutes, the surviving wounded were out and he was alone with the Dead.. He walked over to the preservation chambers.. 3 of the Flak Kannon gunners had died instantly. Tristen was on the 4th. He had lost an eye and his left arm below the elbow. He was in a coma, and might never wake up. The Six laser turret gunners never made it. One lived for 3 days before succumbing to his full-body flash burns.
The last chamber on the left was the hardest to inventory…. It was Marg’s little boy. Brayton. He been on the bridge at the Navigational station when one of the plasma barrages hit just in front of the Bridge window. The impact shattering the 2-foot thick Tricarbonate pane into shards that had taken the Com’s station’s left leg... and cut the young man in half in front of his mother. Marg had continued to fight the ship, saving the Traveler and getting them into subspace before collapsing next to her boy. She did not leave her quarters until they reached Delmar.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________
Mac and Lyri were sitting in the waiting room of the hospital surgery ward. Mac had seen Tristen’s Pregnant Juelana sobbing alone, and they had put her between them as they cradled her on the benched seats. She had been familiar with How Lyrian and Mac displayed affection differently but stiffened at first as they gave her a “group hug” before melting into the situation. She was still in shock, but no longer sobbing. Lyrian had an arm around her shoulders and Mac was gently holding both of her hands in his left mit. Martin came rushing in about 40 minutes later a bandage over his left shoulder down to his wrist with Silu’s Wife Mari and Daughter close behind. Martin’s Wife had volunteered to take care of all the kids, and they were currently at Mac’s house watching a Movie.
Mac’s eyes looked to Martin as he saw Silu’s wife.
Martin walked over and sat beside him, “Assassin tried for the Captain. The old fucker took the Bug’s head off, but he took it in the gut for it. He was holding his ‘innards in when they found him.” Martin was livid, bearing his teeth for the first time Mac had ever seen.
“Bug?” Mac asked.
“K’Claram. It gets worse. Captain got a message from Ami, His Saurian contact in the GHO. A shattered wreck of a pirate barge was found destroyed from a fall from subspace…. IT was wearing ‘Void’s Revenge’ colors.. and they traced its trajectory to Delmar… Darclemas is in conference with the Confederation. We will be deploying immediately.” Martin Growled… “We think that’s why the assassin took his swing. We got hit by a VR barge on our burnout.. It killed a lot of people… We killed it though, thanks to your upgrades.”
“How many,” Mac whispered, he noticed Lyrian’s glance, but he could not hold back the rage building inside him.
“We lost 3 Flak Gunners and 6 of the Laser gunners… Traveler was hole’d 4 times and that killed another 6… Depressurizing is the only reason we made it.” Martin gave his friend a squeeze at the knee. “We lost Brayton... right in front of his mother as she fought for our escape… She’s in a bad way…”
Mac sucked in an explosive breath of air.. Brayton was the youngest of their group. Not even old enough to have alcohol… It was going to be his second Voyage season, and he had just met a girl and begun courting her when they had left.
“These fuckers are coming here?” Mac’s voice was ice. Martin must have been really pissed because he matched Mac’s gaze.
“Yes. Why?” he whispered.
“Because I’m going to murder them all.” Mac’s voice was hammered steel, forged in the fire of experience and Vengeance…
Then it was gone, He knew what he needed to do. Juelana, Mari and the others needed support right now. The time would come.
They would be ready.