“Wish you’d mentioned that sooner, commander,” mutters a general who is some kind of cross between a man and a bulldog.
“Apologies, General Torr, but worry not. I have already authorized a recovery team to salvage the ship.”
“Oh, have you now, commander?” General Torr says with a note of reprimand.
“Simply anticipating the council’s wishes. I know how strongly you all feel about more primitive cultures having access to our technology,” Commander Do says. She slips me a glance that’s as good as a wink.
General Ezenti harrumphs again. “Fargirl’s world is so backwards that a relic of a ship like the Nightwind is considered advanced technology, yet you want her to join our ranks?”
“I want to join your ranks,” I say, stepping forward to make damn sure they’re looking at me and not Commander Do. Getting a little sick of being ignored by these people. Beings. Aliens. Whatever! “Look, I know I haven’t been living with this problem like you have. Everything I know about the Black End I learned maybe an hour ago, but I can tell that they’re the same kind of people I fight every day. They’re bullies. They use fear and violence to get what they want and they don’t care who gets hurt or killed along the way. I don’t care where you are in the universe — that’s plain wrong.
“Commander Do says you need every able body you can get to put these guys down for good. I’m willing to help you. I want to help. So maybe instead of pissing on me because I’m just some ‘fargirl’ from a ‘primitive culture,’ you could at least judge me for who I am and what I can do.” I fold my arms, put on my best smug expression, and bring it home. “Or is the Vanguard’s Council of Generals so advanced they’ve mastered the fine art of making snap judgments about beings they’ve just met?”
The stunned silence that follows my grand speech is broken several seconds later by the sound of General Torr laughing a deep, booming laugh that causes his jowls to quiver. General Tis presses a fist against his mouth to hide his smile.
“Now I like her,” General Torr says to General Tis. “Sorry,” he says to me, “I like you.”
“Thank you,” I say.
“Very good. You’ve charmed Commander Do and General Torr,” says a general who, until this point, has done nothing but sit there and glower at me, a fist tucked up under his chin in thought — or in judgment. He has a blocky head, deep purple skin, and very human eyes. “If only we could defeat the Black End with rousing speeches, sass, and an endearing personality.”
I had a feeling this guy might be the council’s resident hard-ass — the Concorde of the group, if you will. He’s already made up his mind about me and nothing I say or do is going to impress him — so I don’t try.
“If you’re going to send me home, do it and get it over with,” I say.
“That was my plan. Personally, I feel we have no need for an untrained fargirl.”
“One moment, General Gretch,” General Torr says. “Commander Do said this girl defeated Galt by herself.”
(Except not really, but they don’t need to know that.)
“Galt,” Gretch sneers. “Perhaps we should remember that tragic mistake before we decide to repeat it.”
Filing that curious remark away for later research.
“Galt was a unique case,” Torr says, undaunted, “and untrained she may be, but that doesn’t mean she’s unskilled.”
General Gretch sighs. “You and your bizarre affection for lower species —”
“Has nothing to do with this. Fellow generals,” General Torr says, standing and spreading his arms. Brace yourselves, the man’s about to speechify. “We are not so desperate that we can accept just any well-intended individual into our ranks, but we do not have the luxury to casually dismiss anyone with true potential — and I believe this girl might have potential.”
Nicest thing anyone’s says to me all day.
But it’s still not enough. “Might have potential,” General Gretch says.
“Perhaps we should see for ourselves,” General Ezenti says. “I believe Commander Dorr is training some of our more promising cadets as we speak.”
“General, this girl is exhausted. She spent hours fighting Galt and his forces,” Commander Do says. “She’s in no condition for a demonstration of her abilities.”
“Many of our people are exhausted from fighting the Black End,” General Gretch says, “yet they don’t complain or beg off when they’re called into action. If the fargirl can’t endure the harsh reality of life in the Vanguard —”
“The fargirl has endured a lot worse than whatever you’re planning to throw at me,” I say. “Let’s go.”
“Carrie, no. This is an unfair test,” Commander Do says.
“I have to try,” I say, lowering my voice. This conversation isn’t for the generals’ ears. “If I play ball, then maybe they’ll let me stay.”
“Or they’ll make you put on a show for their amusement and send you home anyway.”
“That’s a possibility. But if I don’t try they’ll send me home for sure. If I’m going to go down, I’d rather go down swinging.”
Commander Do gives me a sad smile — sad, but proud.
“What are we waiting for?” I say to the generals. “Let’s roll.”
THREE
I like to think I’m aware of my flaws. I know I can be stubborn, argumentative, confrontational, a bit of a know-it-all, and I hate hate HATE it when people challenge my worth. Someone puts me down, I’m going to do my best to prove them wrong, and that sometimes leads me to make impulsive decisions. I know that.
There is, however, a big difference between knowing one’s flaws and overcoming them. If I had a shred of sense, I’d make nice with the council and ask for some time to recover. The day’s taken a major toll on me, and I’m absolutely wiped out. I should ask for a deferment on my audition, even for a few hours to catch a quick nap, but no, I have to barrel headlong into a trial by combat.
Common sense? Ha. That’s for suckers.
We fly high over the city-state that is Kyros Alliance Central with General Gretch leading the way. Commander Do flies by my side, saying nothing but occasionally glancing at me, her smile encouraging yet concerned. The other generals surround us, like they expect me to wuss out at the last minute and make a break for it (never mind that I have no idea where in the galaxy I am, which is beside the point because I don’t know how to warp anyway). Jozh rides on General Torr’s back, no doubt so he can record my upcoming humiliation for posterity.
General Gretch brings us in at the edge of Kyros City. We land on a sprawling field overlooking the ocean. The sea is impossibly calm, like the water you’d see in a TV ad for a Caribbean vacation. I spot a couple dozen beings in Vanguard uniforms, some on the ground, others in the air running drills of some kind. One of them grabs my attention right away because he resembles a killer whale in general shape, coloration, and size. He also moves through the air like a whale swims, with an ease and grace that belies his bulk.
The airborne Vanguardians immediately return to the ground as we touch down. The trainees scramble into a razor-sharp formation without anyone telling them to do so. One Vanguardian stands apart from them but is likewise at attention, tall and stiff. He waits for all of us to settle on the ground before approaching.
“Generals,” he says, low and gravelly. His skin has the texture of fine sandpaper and ridges like you might see on a lizard follow the contours of his brow and cheekbones. “This is unexpected.”
“Commander Dorr,” General Gretch says. “We apologize for interrupting your training, but we have an unusual situation I believe you could assist us with.”
“Of course,” Commander Dorr says, finally noticing me.
“This is Carrie Hauser of Earth,” Commander Do says.
“Never heard of it.”
“You wouldn’t have, but the Black End recently discovered her world.”
Commander Dorr responds with a throaty growl.
“It seems that, qu
ite some time ago, she acquired Lieutenant Yx’s astrarma,” General Gretch says. “She’s allegedly developed no small degree of skill in their use since then — so much so that she was allegedly able to subdue Galt without any assistance.”
If Commander Dorr has an opinion about that, he keeps it to himself.
“She’s expressed an interest in joining our fight against the Black End, but naturally, we wish to see if she possesses the qualities we expect of our recruits.”
“A wise course, general,” Commander Dorr says. “What did you have in mind?”
“We want to challenge her. We want a fair challenge, of course,” General Gretch says with an implied wink, “but a challenge nevertheless.”
Commander Dorr ponders the request. He then turns to his recruits. “Cadet Gaartiin. Front and center.”
One of the cadets steps out from the formation. He’s the same species as Lt. Bote Maasuur, complete with the extra set of funny little T-Rex arms set into his chest.
“Cadet Gaartiin is one of my most promising trainees,” Commander Dorr says, but without a whiff of pride or praise; he’s simply stating a fact. “I believe a sparring match between Gaartiin and your Carrie Hauser would test her sufficiently.”
“My thought exactly. Generals? Commander Do?” General Gretch says, moving toward the edge of the field. Commander Dorr’s cadets do the same, leaving me, Gaartiin, and Commander Dorr to face one another.
“Both of you will refrain from lethal attacks,” Commander Dorr says. “Other than that? I expect no quarter to be asked or given.”
“Yes, commander,” Gaartiin says.
“Works for me,” I say. Commander Dorr clears the field. I smile at Gaartiin to show there are no hard feelings. This isn’t personal for me; I just need to prove a point. “Hi. I’m Carrie.”
His concussion blast catches me in the stomach and throws me back. I land hard and skid across the ground, kicking up dirt and whatever passes for grass on this world. Smells like overcooked kale.
Gaartiin laughs. Okay, now it is so personal.
From my knees, I throw an energy blast his way. He brings up a shield and deflects my shot, then tosses a return zap. I generate a shield of my own, blocking the attack, and then say goodbye to the ground.
Gaartiin comes after me and closes the distance fast, lobbing energy bolts as he accelerates. I spin and swerve around them and shoot a few back to keep him from locking in on me. He floors it, metaphorically speaking, and closes in.
As he reaches point blank range, I pull a favorite trick of mine, one I learned from Concorde, and hit the brakes. Gaartiin rockets past. I pelt him with a machine gun barrage that knocks him off-course and off his game. He recovers, though not quickly enough to shake me. I pummel him with a series of shots that knocks him around the sky like a soccer ball.
Since acquiring my powers, I’ve worked my adorable butt off to expand the range of my abilities, hone my skill as a fighter and, most importantly, improve my aim. On a better day, I could keep this up hours and never miss, but this is not a better day. I fire and miss Gaartiin by a mile, which gives him the opening he needs to stage a strategic withdrawal.
Not that I expect that he’s giving up. No, he’s doing what I should have done before getting into this fight and taking a breather. Well, that works both ways, pal. You take your time out, I’ll take mine.
Unfortunately, Gaartiin is ready for round two long before I am. He arcs around and comes straight at me. I hold my ground (or my sky, as it were) and wait for his next move.
A solid beam of energy comes at me. I throw my shield up and brace for impact, but at the last second, the beam makes an abrupt ninety-degree turn and then hooks back around, circumnavigating my shield faster than I can adjust. He tags me in the shoulder, and then it’s my turn to get knocked around. I crank up my aura, which takes a little of the sting out of his blasts, but only a little. If this keeps up...
No. Not going to happen.
It takes all my focus to shut out the pain, even for a second, so I can burst away and put some distance between us. The move pushes me that much closer to total collapse. I have to finish this now.
I take off but keep my speed down, allowing Gaartiin to close in on me again. I glance back. He powers up for his next attack.
With a lot of help from Doc Quantum, I was able to figure out how to do more with my powers than fly and zap stuff. One of the first new tricks I learned was invisibility, which has come in handy. We never got around to figuring out full-spectrum cloaking so I could avoid detection by radar or infrared technology, but as long as Gaartiin’s eyes function more or less like human eyes, I should be completely undetectable when I slip into stealth mode.
Before he can get his shot off, I go invisible and burst again, swinging around to Gaartiin’s exposed underside. I fire, catching him right in the gut. I burst away and come in on his flank for my second shot, then burst away again at an angle. Attack number three strafes Gaartiin along the spine. This all happens in the space of two seconds. I finish with one huge blast that sends him hurtling toward the ground.
No, not hurtling; falling. He’s out cold.
“YEAH! How do you like me now, huh?!” I crow. Grossly unprofessional and immature, I admit, but I got the win and dammit, I’m going to enjoy it.
I hover there, watching Gaartiin plummet and fighting the impulse to swoop down and save him. It’s all good. Commander Dorr will get him. I mean, he wouldn’t let his finest cadet splatter all over the landscape, right?
Right?
Wrong. Commander Dorr isn’t moving. No one is. They’re going to let Gaartiin die.
Jeez. Always have to do everything myself.
I de-cloak and go after Gaartiin. I grab him by the ankle and slow our descent so I can lower him to the ground, nice and gentle. Easy-peasy.
And it never occurs to me he might be playing possum — not until he sends an energy bolt my way. Lousy jerk alien caught me with one of my own tricks.
I’m so wiped out, the zap shocks me out of Lightstorm mode. Everything spins wildly, and it doesn’t stop until I bellyflop onto the ground. The impact knocks the wind out of me. I loll over onto my back, gasping desperately but unable to take in any air. Every attempt to inhale plunges a hot knife of pain into my lower belly.
“Stand down, Gaartiin,” someone says. A dark, blurry shape looms over me. “Carrie? Can you hear me?”
It’s Commander Do, I think. It must be her. No one else here gives a crap about me.
“I went down swinging,” I wheeze.
She presses a cool hand to my forehead. “Yes. You did.”
“Get her up,” General Gretch says. At least he respects me enough to wait until I’m upright before giving me the bad news.
Commander Do takes my hands, helps me to my feet, and slips her arm under mine to keep me standing. My vision clears and settles. General Gretch has a sour look on his face, but Generals Tis and Torr positively beam at me.
“Commander, take her to medical. Make sure she receives any treatment she might need, and once she’s undergone initial processing, find her some suitable quarters,” General Tis says.
“Of course,” Commander Do says, but she’s saying it to General Tis’s back. He and the other generals lift off, chatting — no, squabbling amongst themselves. It seems the decision to let me stay was not unanimous.
“Fargirl.” I turn (by which I mean Commander Do turns me around) to face Commander Dorr. I’d say he’s frowning at me, but I suspect his mouth is naturally frozen in that expression. “You acted to save Cadet Gaartiin. Do you always show such mercy to your enemies?”
“He was an opponent, not an enemy,” I say. “And no, I don’t. If he’d really been trying to kill me, I’d’ve let him drop and you’d be soaking him up with a sponge right now.”
“I want her,” he says to Commander Do.
“Excuse me?” I say.
“For his squadron,” she clarifies. Oh, thank God. “I’ll see to it,
commander.”
Commander Dorr grunts and then returns to his troops.
“Should I be flattered or worried that he wants to train me?” I say.
“Both, I think,” Commander Do says. “Can you fly yet?”
I shake my head. “Give me a few minutes?”
She carries me to the edge of the training field and sets me down on a low cement wall marking the perimeter. I don’t care if it’s literally rock-hard; sitting feels so good.
She sits next to me. “You are an impressive girl. A little reckless and foolhardy, perhaps...”
“It’s part of my charm.”
“Your people find the oddest things charming.”
“Hey,” I say, fully intending to lay into her, and then I catch the smirk playing on her lips. It vanishes when Lt. Maasuur touches down in front of us.
“Commander,” he says.
“Lieutenant,” she says, jumping back to her feet. You do that. I’ll stay right here, thanks. “Has the Nightwind been secured?”
“I left Fast and At Mo Ke with the Nightwind to stand guard over the prisoners. The humans are guarding the ship itself,” Lt. Maasuur says disapprovingly. “I trust a recovery team is on its way?”
“They’re preparing now.”
“You look terrible,” he says to me. It’s probably a good thing he doesn’t know what an extended middle finger means. “Ah, yes. Your friend gave this to me.”
Lt. Maasuur takes something out of his belt pouch and hands it to me. It looks like a phone.
It is a phone. It’s Sara’s phone!
I turn it on, and I’m greeted by a photo of Meg giving the camera a sultry come-hither smile. That makes me smile in turn. Meg will take care of my girl until I get back. Whenever that may be.
There’s an icon on the screen labeled 4CARRIE — a video file.
“Hey, you,” Sara says. God, the poor thing looks like I feel. She laughs nervously. “What happened to ‘I’ll be right back’?”
“Ohh, Sara. I’m sorry,” I sob. I have no strength left. I let the tears come.
Action Figures - Issue Seven: The Black End War Page 3
