by J A Stone
“Do it,” Brey ordered. Guns and blades struck the metal deck.
“Good girls, Ronald?” Denali chirped and the largest man Warfell had ever seen stepped forward, kicking the weaponry away, motioning the women to sit down. He looked just like Bigfoot Bob, but younger.
Well damn the Seven, Danica thought—it’s Robert’s Brother!
“This is Ronald,” Warren confirmed. “He has been instructed to pull the head off anyone I point to. Breana Constance Fovea, you are under arrest for high treason and capital murder,” Warren smiled wide, target acquired. “Do you have anything to say before your unexpected off-world execution?”
“Wow,” Brey replied. “Yeah, is this all on record?”
“Yes.”
“Then I would say, uh, go Tommy go?”
The Colonel laughed. “Your ship will not get fa…” Denali shut that mouth when the vibrations of the Vengeance’s Tibor-glide ceased abruptly.
Now Brey Fovea smiled ear to ear, pointing and nodding as all attention moved to the Spirit in the corner. The Aequitas Caelum began to howl, brightening his ethereal image, now screaming with the rage of a mad man at his captors. He moved quickly, lunging for the giant, Ronald Johnstone, circling about the huge beast of a man—talons already digging into the murderous mind.
Denali Warren blinked her disbelief as Brey clacked open the Wakizashi and gunfire erupted on deck.
“MOVE!” Fovea shouted, her team scrambling for their weapons, leaping and sliding to avoid the bullets and plasma pads zinging about the enclosed steel chamber.
Warfell went straight for her doppelganger, in the split seconds of confusion she lunged. Denali spun about and two pairs of arms connected several times, Warfell’s fist scored a chin strike but the Colonel twisted and Danica misjudged, anticipating a foot—the spinning backhand caught her across the cheek hard.
Warfell took the hit and backed up a pace, snatching a dagger from the floor and reversing her grip. Warren never broke eye contact.
“Forget being noble,” said Denali, snatching her sidearm like lightning and pulling the trigger six times; chasing Danica across the deck as she leaped and rolled to the side.
The dagger flew free and the Colonel jerked her face away—Danica hit the floor in a slide and reached her beloved Chesterborne to return fire—but Denali Warren was gone.
“LOST MY DICK!” Warfell called out to Brey, the little pixie lifting her head, taking her opponent’s, and running for the closest passageway.
“On it!”
Warfell engaged another soldier, watching Bigfoot’s Brother harrowed by the Spirit from the corner of her eye. For a frozen moment in time, she felt the true rage welling within the Ghost and she was afraid—deathly afraid. The Aequitas Caelum was indeed growing powerful.
The mercenaries were well trained but James and Iris were in control. Warfell shot her man between the eyes and dashed as fast as she could after Brey.
On deck, the ten-footer fell to his knees, whimpering like a child, freakishly explaining every killing, every job he pulled. The enraged Spirit continued to swirl around and now through the giant, mercilessly squeezing his consciousness.
Nearby, Iris bounced, rolled, and dashed about between several men, issuing critical strikes with each movement made—shotgun faithfully strapped to her slender back. She was a hand-to-hand marvel. James noticed.
“Damn kiddo!” said the Assassin. James fired a pistol with the right hand and slashed with a long hunting knife in her left. “Show ‘em your hair trick!”
Iris smiled and backed away. She stood still, the last three men gathered their wits before the two girls and were about to charge when Iris’ hair and eyes flushed from the dull grey to glistening blue-black. She bared her insane fangs and snarled…
“WHAT KIND OF PEOPLE ARE YOU?” one of the mercenaries screamed—his training rendered helpless by the fear. Ten paces away, Bigfoot’s Brother dropped dead. The demonic Specter left the body to float aside the crazy-girl with face tattoos, and her friend with wolf-teeth.
The mercenary passed out.
His comrades surrendered, trembling on hand and knee.
James tapped her right ear. “Bridge secured.”
“Get my Father back on Snowflake,” Brey answered.
“How?”
“Good point,” Brey whispered as she crept around a corner.
I am fine, I will be outside, clear of both of these craft. I have an idea.
The Aequitas Caelum spoke clearly, now calmed.
“Okay…Danica?” Brey knew the enemy was listening but she had to know.
“Right here partner.”
Brey sighed relief. Warfell was likewise stalking a hallway, Chesterborne out front, barrel jerking about following the blues towards all potentials.
Above, on the upper levels, Denali Warren ran a calculated path towards weapons systems. If she could keep Fovea and her twin busy long enough to reach and engage the microwave pulse, she could at least kill everything on board the Moorcraft—even the odds a bit.
Denali was never one to flee from a fight, but something screamed in her mind that the Ghost could kill, and with the glide system disrupted—no way. She ran, grateful the thing went after her giant instead.
“Here,” she said to the air, finding her hatchway and hustling through.
Below, James and Iris made the critical independent decision to stay and fight, ignoring their Captain’s orders.
Aboard Snowflake, Tom, Bigfoot and Tawnee hit the roof.
“Screw it, I’m going in,” Tawnee said, abruptly leaving the cockpit.
“Not without me,” Bigfoot chased after her.
“Guys? The ship? Our orders? GODDAMNIT!” Tom jumped from his coveted chair and patted the console. “I’ll be back…gotta go get the boss, so she can kill me.”
Outside, the Spirit was floating the edge of the half-mile clearing. His incorporeal form was instantly swarmed by the curious—they passed through the mist of the Specter and then zipped quickly away, repelled by his dark electromagnetic energy.
Interesting indeed.
The Aequitas Caelum spoke to the crowd of flying creatures as he waived an ethereal hand through the air, watching them scatter to his ‘touch’. Suddenly, the masses bolted away, alerted to…
He turned to see Tawnee, Bigfoot and Tom Snow dashing the empty grasses between the two landed spacecraft, shouting.
“GO!” Tom pushed the lumbering Robert forward.
“I’m going!” Bigfoot replied, putting all of his effort into the legs as the swarms of insects began to close in.
No hesitation, the Spirit flew as fast as he could to his friends, circling about them as they ran, keeping the hungry biomass at bay. They were almost there when the abrasive screeching of the Kalia resounded from nearby.
“Aw shit, WATCH OUT!” now Robert passed the fleet-footed Tawnee, fear snapping a spark beneath his boots. At twenty paces, the Spirit rushed to the hatchway on the side of the Badger-craft, concentrating, moving the wheel with great effort. When the three arrived at full speed, the hatch popped open with a short expulsion of air. They leaped inside.
Thirteen decks dorsal, Denali entered the override sequence to the weapons systems with an evil grin. Without waiting, the Colonel ignited the microwave pulse cannon, setting sights on Snowflake and firing at full strength.
“One less thing to worry about,” she whispered, falsely believing the crew inside that Moorcraft were cooked in place. “Now—end of running,” Denali drew her sidearm and left the chamber, stopping abruptly to approach a weapons cage. The esteemed Colonel admired the bladed array, setting her sights on a sparkling Katana with a polished bone pommel, carved into a wolf’s head…
“Ello, shiny,” she cooed like a mother-dove and opened the cabinet. “You stay with me.”
“Level nine secured,” James reported through her earpiece.
“What are you doing?” Brey broke com silence.
“Capturing an enemy vesse
l for Tawnee—I mean you.”
“Do my orders stand for anything?”
“Everything boss, everything, but so does your life,” said the faithful Assassin, twisting a cheek to the sounds of fighting somewhere below her level—flight crew must have gotten itchy—James decided not to say anything to piss Brey off any further.
Brey continued moving, passing a computer room, stopping and entering.
Why not, she thought approaching a keypad and plugging in a scanner, tapping her boot nervously as the tiny device plundered through the intelligence systems of the Vengeance.
Seconds later, she snatched the scanner out and hugged the wall when she heard Danica’s familiar voice down the hall.
“Don’t do it—you will not win,” said Warfell.
“Oh I’m doing it,” replied Warren. “On guard!”
Brey heard swords ringing free of their scabbards. She listened carefully to the duel; following the movements with her mind’s eye…
They were both beyond good, the contacts resounding like deep bells as the finely crafted weapons came together over and again. There was a rhythm to the melee; an almost predictable series of intense clashes and cautious poking as the two Master Swordsmen calculated each other’s styles, expertly searching for the weaknesses…the flaws. Brey toyed with the idea of walking into the open, but the distraction might hurt her Danica. No, she needed to jump in, only if the tide swells against her friend.
The little beauty returned to the computer bank console, reinserted her skimming device and concentrating on the battle occurring just outside…
“RAAA!” Danica screamed, clipping the slightly curved Katana, secretly admiring the agility of the precision blade as she back-hand thrust it across her opponent’s chest—left fist coming down hard on her twin’s temple, sending sword and owner toppling to the deck. She drew the Chesterborne, leveling the barrel between the Colonel’s eyes.
“You better kill me, because I won’t stop coming for you,” Denali Warren hissed her defiance through red stained teeth.
“Yeah, I’m supposed to,” Warfell answered. “But I need the Aequitas Caelum to suck your Soul out first. Now get up!”
“You heard her,” Brey stepped out with a look of admiration for Danica, flicking her wrist to unfold the Wakizashi.
When they marched Warren back down to the flight command deck, Tawnee, Tom, Bigfoot, Iris and James stood there smiling.
“The Vengeance is yours, Tawnee—I mean Captain,” James announced. Brey frowned hard, big brown eyes turning to anger as they darted back and forth over her crew.
“Who—is watching my baby?”
Outside, the Spirit of Caelum Fovea in legion with the Aequitas Caelum did not know what to do. He was afraid to enter either vessel so he waited near the hatch to the Vengeance. It did not take long.
“Dad, are you alright?” Brey asked over the exterior speaker next to the hatch window.
I am Daughter, is the Tibor-glide on?
“Disabled permanently, along with flight and weapons systems,” she answered.
The Spirit immediately pushed his form through the wall of the hull.
Where is Denali Warren?
“Subdued on the bridge, waiting for you,” Brey smiled. Despite the fact he was a Ghost, it still warmed her heart to know he was there in mind and heart.
Come with me all of you. He floated slowly to the first set of steps, addressing his mortal friends as they walked.
I need you all to see this. You need to see what I am becoming. I have strengthened greatly since discovering a way to pass between the many layers of this existence. I have encountered myself many times; sometimes alive, sometimes as a Spirit.
Only in my existence on Aleutha, have I been strong enough to appear to the living…I do not know why. As with Caelum Fovea, where I have been too weak, the Soul essence has simply joined with mine own. I did not force the convergence—at first. Now, I am taking them on sight, seventeen so far…
Each time, I have grown significantly stronger. The Knights of Salvos have all noticed. British knew immediately. I need you all to understand that we are all here; the weaker Spirits joined with me as a survival choice because of our combined strength. We are all committed to my Daughter and her friends in every reality.
They entered the Vengeance’s bridge.
Listen, after I am done, I shall make way for Snowflake and engage the Tibor-glide, this will clear the area of insects. Please board quickly and disengage the surfboard. It hurts me greatly.
They watched as the Spirit changed from a soft spoken, intelligent man in robes, to a cold, calculated hunter.
He fell to the flooring, swooping in low above the grating, ethereal visage becoming smoky, misty, whishing about side to side as a snake might. The Aequitas Caelum approached Colonel Denali Warren—strapped tight to the Captain’s chair, eyes bulging. Warren was no coward, but some things go far beyond fearful—this she felt in her very bones. She closed her blues and spoke directly to Danica.
“Warfell, I swear to the Seven Devils in the Dark, I shall be your undoing. I will become the voice behind your eye and the rage in your heart—NEVER BE SILENT! NEVER LEAVE YOU ALONE…”
The vengeful Specter lunged for the tall platinum haired warrior, stifling her voice forever as he snatched the throat tight, twisting with incredible strength, brutally tearing the head off.
The Spirit screamed—face to the fluorescent ceiling, spreading his ethereal arms wide, becoming so tactile and crisp he seemed truly alive. The baritone howl increased to a deafening pitch, forcing Snowflake’s crew to hold palms to ears to abate the painful vibrations—all but Warfell and Fovea.
Danica stepped forward, cold expression on her face. She was ready, despite the tiny voice deep in her subconscious, warning her not to lose control when this bitch gets inside.
Then it happened—Warfell lost her breath and dropped to her knees, closing her eyes.
She raised her head and gazed to the wall as if waiting. She felt like herself, remaining still for a brief moment to acclimate. Danica suddenly realized she knew the flight systems to the Vengeance…knew of her brief marriage to Danton…how to dismantle a 320 Automatic Burp-Rifle in the dark.
“Yep, she’s in here all right,” Warfell said to her friends.
“You okay partner?” Brey touched her shoulder and it felt good.
“Yeah,” she rose to a stand. She did feel stronger, sharper, and more aware. If the Colonel was screaming shitty things in there, she couldn’t hear it. She reached down and picked up the bone handled Katana. “Ello shiny,” Danica hefted the sparkling blade with half a grin. “You stay with me.”
The Aequitas Caelum floated through the wall—heading for Snowflake.
“Alright, let’s go,” Brey ordered and the team thankfully jogged towards the air-lock.
Never Forget
Occia, high orbit
The sword, dealer of death, ruler of kingdoms, harbinger of war—arguably humanity’s greatest creation, the fine steel and sharp edges define civilizations—sometimes more than the warrior behind the weapon.
Danica sat in the port gunner pod admiring the Katana Longsword, the carved bone pommel, lacquered and polished to a glistening shine. It was the snarling head of a wolf. She wondered of the sword’s history—who owned it and what they did with it. Brey said the weapon was ancient, unparalleled. Forenz stocked his prototype with personal items. The blade was his, yet Denali chose to wield it. Danica was immediately enthralled with the shape of the Katana, its incredible agility in the fight and the resilience. Several times, her Longsword should have broken or at least dinged the metal, yet the Katana was unblemished; the steel on the edge seemingly untouched. She laughed softly, remembering her lust for this sword the moment she engaged it in battle. She won the fight because she wanted that Katana.
“Amazing,” she said to the cold metal, now examining the shiny side of the cutting edge.
Warfell you might want to see this
, said Brey over the com.
“On my way boss,” Danica sheathed her acquisition. Since liftoff from Occia, she decided to keep the curved sword in place of her old one. She already knew in the back of her mind how to use it—the fighting style much different than she was accustomed to, but far superior. She shot an arm and shoulder through the strap and settled the new weapon on her back, crawling through the gunner pod tube.
“What’s up?” Danica said, settling in behind the Captain’s chair, her eyes already providing the answer.
It was a winged gunship, and a familiar voice.
This is Captain Derulio of the Warship Destiny. I would ask to speak with my wife?
“Well, alright,” Brey moved the monitor to her partner.
“Hey,” Warfell said humbly.
So, you’re a Colonel? The High Chancellor’s bodyguard? Dena, why wouldn’t you just tell me?
“I am actually Captain of the Knights of Salvos, but Denali? Yeah I had to sack that bitch. Hey don’t cry she’s right here watching you drool like a dumbass.” Danica tapped her temple and giggled, not realizing the handsome Captain loved her, not her, Denali.
I don’t under…
“Correct, you do not,” Warfell interrupted her ‘ex-husband’. “Are you poised before this vessel for a reason?”
“I…I…I ‘m sorry Dena,” Derulio’s image disappeared from the screen, the com-link cancelled.
“Evasive action! Now Tommy!” Brey shouted, “Gunners to the pods, dammit-man, I should have…”
The plasma pads hit hard, tossing Snowflake back as though kicked in the face. Warfell and Tawnee were flat on the floor, crawling for the tubes against their own weight. When the V-7 finally leveled out, they leaped up and ran for the portals. Halfway there the LED lighting popped twice and disappeared completely. Danica jammed her thumb, then her forehead on the wall.
“Crap!” she said, hands feeling the round tube—crawling in, closing her eyes to make it easier.
