Project Starfighter

by Stephen J Sweeney

  “Okay,” Phoebe nodded, reluctantly.

  He looked at the Valkyrie the woman had been piloting, wondering whether the Dodger’s bots and worker machines would be able to upgrade it in the same way that they had upgraded the Firefly. So long as the Valkyrie had the power and resources available, he couldn’t see why not. It would probably just be a case of shoving in a bigger or more efficient battery. He proposed the idea to Sid, who largely agreed with his assessment.

  “How are your flight combat skills?” Chris then asked Phoebe. “Honestly.”

  “Not bad,” the small woman answered.

  “But not good, either,” Chris finished for her.

  “The ship does what I tell it – where to go and when to fire.”

  “But it’s up to you to decide how best to approach a combat situation. I think we should work on that, too. Getting that right makes all the difference when it comes to staying alive.”

  “How?” Sid asked.

  “Practice,” Chris said. “WEAPCO have a number of shipyards in the region, right? We could do two things – disrupt their operations, to allow the locals a chance to take back what is rightfully theirs and overcome the Corporation’s sanctions, and also allow Phoebe to practise her skills.”

  “Dangerous,” Sid said.

  “It’s not going to get any easier, unfortunately,” Chris said.

  “Sounds like a plan to me,” Phoebe admitted.

  Sid nodded, somewhat reluctantly. “Fine. I’ll see what I can find out about recent WEAPCO activity in the system from the drone.”

  “Make use of Athena as much as you need,” Chris said. “I’m going to go and read up a little more about William Benedict. I’m curious to know exactly what it was that he did. And, more importantly, what he did wrong.”

  Chapter 17

  Ursula was cuffed to a bed, fastened about the wrists and ankles to the posts, spread out like a starfish. She lay on black satin sheets. Two bedside tables held lamps and a book of some sort. The lighting was low, seemingly intentionally so, to create some kind of ambiance. The room was spinning a little, too, warping in her vision. She tried to focus but found it incredibly difficult to do so.

  She knew immediately what was happening. This wasn’t real, this was another simulation. She looked at her bindings, to the handcuffs enclosing her wrists, willing them to break apart and release her. They did not. She turned her attention to the straps that were fastened to her ankles, and focused her thoughts to make them snap, split, or fray. Nothing.

  How could that be? She had held power over all of her past simulation settings as soon as she became aware of where she was. She had been able to take on armies, fly, break the very fabric of those false realities. Now, she couldn’t even undo some simple bindings.

  “Are you sure you’re doing it right?” a voice asked.

  At the foot of the bed, Ursula saw a man dressed in a pristine black suit. It was clearly tailormade, fitting him perfectly, and radiating wealth and power. She recognised him immediately.

  “Skillman.” Ursula glared. She tugged at the cuffs again, feeling them biting into her wrists as she did so. They held fast, no matter how hard she pulled. “Decided to come yourself today, instead of sending your lackeys, eh?”

  The WEAPCO CEO observed her struggles for a time, before answering her. “Today is special,” he said. “Today is the day that I can rest assured that I can rid myself of two interfering pests.”

  “You’ve found my sister, then?” Ursula said.

  Skillman smiled. “Thanks to you, yes.”

  Ursula flared. “If you so much as touch her ...”

  “Oh, please,” Skillman said, dismissing her threat with a casual wave. He then smiled a devilish smile, eyeing the handcuffs that fixed her to the bed frame. “You’re hardly in the position.”

  Ursula screamed at him, before resuming her attempts to free herself from her bindings. Her head was still swimming, her thoughts sluggish, her vision swirling as though she was drunk.

  “What have you done to me?” Ursula demanded of Skillman. “Have you drugged me?”

  “Perhaps.”

  Cryptic bastard. She looked at her arms and hands again. Her fingernails were painted red, her skin ... slightly tanned, as though she had recently spent a lot of time in the sun. She frowned, taking in the sight of her body. She wasn’t as skinny as she recalled having been when she had attempted to escape the holding facility, when Kethlan had slipped up. Her body was now more curvaceous. Her breasts, too, were plumper. Everything about her was almost perfect. She noticed then that her normally blonde hair was a silky black.

  “I know this isn’t real,” she said.

  “How can you be so sure?” Skillman asked, smoothly.

  “This isn’t my body.”

  Skillman nodded, slipping off his jacket, folding it carefully, and setting it down neatly on the soft chair that rested in one corner of the room. “So, what’s really happening?”

  “I’m back in a tank in that facility I almost escaped from.”

  Skillman paused as he reached for his tie. “You almost escaped, you say? Is that how it happened? You’ve been in and out of various scenarios constantly, from what I understand. How do you know what is real and what isn’t? Maybe that was also a simulation.”

  “I can tell,” Ursula growled. “People have a sixth sense about this sort of thing, you know? This here,” she gesture around herself, “is some naughty Goth girl fantasy you or one of your cronies has cooked up.”

  “And what happens in this fantasy, Ms Lexx?” Skillman loosened his tie, taking it off, folding it neatly, and setting it down on the chair, where it joined his jacket. Skillman seemed to be undressing with deliberate slowness.

  “What happens is that I break out of these cuffs, take you hostage, and negotiate my freedom in exchange for your life,” Ursula said.

  Skillman only laughed, now undoing the top button of his shirt. He caught his reflection in a full length mirror, observing it for a time. He ran his fingers over collar button.

  “Ties are nice, don’t you think?” he said. “Neat little accessories that can add a splash of colour and add a certain je ne sais quoi to an otherwise plain shirt.”

  “Wait until I get out of here, and then I’ll show you a certain something.”

  Skillman’s expression darkened. “So, you believe that this is just another simulation, do you?” The man suddenly had something in his hand. It looked like a riding crop. “The funny thing about simulations is that you can still sense a number of things. Such as pain.” And with that, he thrashed Ursula’s stomach.

  The pain was immediate and intense, a sharp stinging sensation. Even if she had tried not to, she would still have cried out.

  “See?” Skillman said.

  “Do that again and I will repay you ten times in kind for each one,” Ursula threatened.

  Skillman chuckled his reply, and thrashed her three more times.

  Ursula’s eyes began to water, and through the tears she could see that her stomach had turned a bright shade of red where each stroke had lashed her skin. “I mean it,” she breathed. “When I get out of here, I will inflict such pain and misery on you to make the seven levels of Hell look like a teacup ride by comparison.”

  Another three lashes followed, before Skillman seemed to grow bored of the crop. He cast it aside, the thing evaporating into thin air as it went.

  “Pain is all present and correct, then,” Skillman said.

  Ursula swore at him, and once again tugged hard against her restraints, trying to will the locks to snap open and set her free. She bucked and jostled as much as she could on the bed, but nothing gave.

  “I see that your sense of spirit is in no way diminished, either,” Skillman went on, bending down to undo the laces of his shoes, and placing them next to the chair in the room, out of the way. “You and your sister have a very special talent, Ms Lexx, one that has been the source of some trouble for us in the past. We can’t v
ery well have two people such as yourselves roaming freely about the galaxy and causing us all sorts of problems now, can we?”

  The pieces of a puzzle began to slot together in Ursula’s mind, the picture becoming clearer. “You’re worried that I can oppose you,” she said. “You’re worried that I can take control of your robots and your machines and turn them against you.”

  “Oh, it goes much further than that, my dear,” Skillman said. “Not that I feel like indulging you right now. You may have been able to manipulate these scenarios before, but I’m happy to say that here you have no power whatsoever.”

  “Now I know this place isn’t real,” Ursula said. “You’ve drugged me back at that facility, to suppress my abilities. You couldn’t be doing it here, in this world, because I could just override it.”

  “Very good,” Skillman said. “And a good thing we found you and your sister when we did. You’re clearly far more capable than William Benedict ever was. A repeat of that little incident would have been unfortunate.”

  “William Benedict?” Ursula asked.

  “Another troublemaker, long gone,” Skillman said. “In a way, your predecessor.”

  Ursula struggled again against her bonds. “Whose body is this?”

  “Why does it matter?” Skillman asked, with a shrug. “A body is a body. Now, there is one sense that we have not yet discussed – pleasure.” He bounded onto the bed, crawling up, placing his hand on her stomach, running his fingers gently across it. His touch made Ursula’s skin crawl.

  “Is this what you do for fun when no one is looking?” Ursula asked, turning her head away and not looking at him.

  Skillman grinned again, and Ursula wished that she could kick him in that disgusting, leering face of his. “You and I both know that you are hardly defenceless.” He glanced to her restraints. “Well, except maybe at the moment.”

  He returned his attention to her stomach, now running his tongue across it, over the areas where he had previously lashed her. He then worked his way up, undoing the clasp of her bra and starting to knead, kiss, and lick her breasts. Or rather, the breasts of the body that this was. Ursula tried to think that this was not her body, her head or her mind. But the pain had been real, and now the sensation of Skillman’s tongue and his hands on her was real. She couldn’t extract herself from that, couldn’t get away from it no matter how hard she tried.

  “How was that? Do you like that?” Skillman asked, looking up at her. Ursula did not answer, and so he crawled up, grabbed her face in his hand and forced her to look at him. “Yes?” he prompted.

  “No. You’re a disgusting vile old, balding, fat molester!” Ursula answered, before spitting in his face.

  “Oh, that’s not very nice,” Skillman said, removing a handkerchief from his trouser pocket and wiping away the spittle. He then bent down, and started to kiss and lick her face.

  Ursula gritted her teeth against the revulsion she felt, until she found the man moving around to meet her lips. No sooner had his lips met hers than his tongue was trying to force its way into her mouth. She came to a swift decision, and bit down on it. Hard.

  Skillman gasped in pain, and immediately tried to withdraw. His tongue managed to escape, but Ursula’s teeth now snapped shut on his lower lip. There she held him, biting down harder and harder, hoping for her teeth to pierce his lip and rip it apart. Skillman groped around for a time, unsure of what to do. The riding crop was then once again in his hand, and he began using it to strike Ursula on any part of the body that he could, until she released him.

  Ursula grinned. “You’re right. Pain is all present and correct. So is pleasure. I thoroughly enjoyed that. Oh, look – blood. Now your Gothic fantasy is even more complete.”

  Skillman glowered, and instead of the riding crop he now had in his hand a ball gag. He grabbed Ursula’s head, attempting to force the ball into her mouth. She clamped her jaw shut, refusing to allow him to do so. Skillman instead pinched her nose, waiting patiently, knowing that she would be forced to breathe eventually, no matter what. When she did, he completed the task, fastening the straps tightly. He then removed the handkerchief from his pocket once more, dabbing at his lip, checking the amount of blood.

  “I like a fighter,” he said, pocketing the handkerchief. “It makes the victory all the sweeter in the end.” He eyed the gag closely as Ursula glared at him. “You know, I could have sewn your mouth shut or removed it altogether. Perhaps even just take your teeth out. But that’s crude, prone to errors, and ... not as fun. Now, just lie back and think of the Milky Way ...”

  “Sir?”

  Skillman paused, appearing suddenly irritated. Ursula wasn’t sure where the voice had come from; she and Skillman were the only two people in the room. Skillman returned his attention to her, meeting her eyes, and making it clear that he intended to go on regardless.

  “Sir,” the voice repeated.

  “What?” Skillman demanded, after a heavy sigh.

  “We have an update that requires your immediate attention.”

  “Can’t it wait?”

  “Not really, sir. It concerns the Lexx woman.”

  Skillman got off Ursula and sat on the end of the bed, making a sign in the air. A man appeared – Erik Overlook. Ursula had been sure she had recognised his voice earlier. Overlook glanced from Skillman to the woman on the bed and back again, appearing a little shocked by the scene that had greeted him.

  “As you can see, Erik,” Skillman said, waving a hand in Ursula’s direction, “I am busy. Now, what is this all about? What has happened to the other one?”

  “We’ve lost her, sir,” Overlook said.

  Skillman swore. “How? How did you manage to lose one woman?”

  “There were a number of factors involved, sir,” Overlook said. “The first is that she seems to have become more aware and in command of her abilities than when we first began tracking her, and she has started to take advantage of them. She managed to evade the drones sent to apprehend her, and has also taken control of a Valkyrie starfighter.”

  “So? Just send a squadron of Talons after her.”

  “We did, sir. She fought them off.”

  “How?” Skillman asked.

  “She ... took control of them,” Overlook said, his tone one of apology.

  “Haw haw,” Ursula chuckled through the ball gag. Skillman turned around and glared at the woman. Though Ursula couldn’t smile with the gag in her mouth, she was certain that her eyes were doing a fine job of conveying her amusement.

  Overlook continued, “We received a notification from the Duke of Wellington that its fighter squadron was no longer responding to orders. Lexx then used the fighters to attack the Duke.”

  “Ooooooo?” Ursula murmured through her gag.

  “And?” Skillman asked. He sounded as if he already knew the answer.

  “She ... destroyed it, sir,” Overlook said.

  “Eeeeeeeee!” Ursula squealed with delight.

  “The Duke attempted to jump out of the system when it realised that its escorts were purposely opening fire on it, but it never managed to engage its drive system.”

  Skillman was quiet for a time, grating his teeth, mumbling words beneath his breath. “You said she has a Valkyrie fighter?”

  “Yes, sir. We believe she had some of the drones that were working for her summon one to her position. She took control of it from there.”

  “Haven’t all Valkyries been recalled and withdrawn from duty?”

  “Not all of them,” Overlook said. “We still have around seventy in active service. It was decided that we should keep some of them around ...” He paused and glanced at Ursula. “ ... for show,” he finished.

  Skillman sighed. “Who decided that?”

  “Owen Hancock.”

  “Have him fired immediately. No, wait. Delete him,” Skillman corrected himself.

  “Sir?” Overlook hesitated.

  “DELETE HIM! PERMANENTLY!” Skillman shouted. He rubbed his chin. “Did
she have any help, or was she working alone?”

  “According to the data we received, she was being assisted by two more of the Corporation’s starships, which arrived in response to a distress call she was broadcasting. One of them was a scrap and salvage sweeping vessel called The Artful Dodger, that was originally set to receive full AI transformation and integration in the next few months.”

  “Another one of Hancock’s ‘for show’ ideas?”

  “Sir, yes,” Overlook said.

  Skillman sighed. “Does Hancock have any family?”

  “Sir?”

  “Does. Hancock. Have. Any. Family?”

  “Yes, sir. A wife and a son.”

  “Delete them, as well. What was the second ship that assisted her?”

  “A starfighter—”

  “A Firefly by any chance?” Skillman interrupted, in a low voice.

  Overlook said something that Ursula didn’t catch.

  “What?” Skillman asked.

  “I said, yes, sir.”

  A Firefly? What was special about that? Ursula wondered. She knew little about WEAPCO’s naval forces, many of the names and words being thrown around foreign to her. Whatever this Firefly was, it sounded as though it was already quite a thorn in Skillman’s side. Was it a rogue AI, or was it being piloted by someone?

  “I have told you once already, Erik, that the elimination of that fighter and those two men are a top priority for the future of both this company and ourselves. Our wellbeing and very lives are dependent on the elimination of Bainfield, Wilson, and that Firefly, and yet you continue to bring me news such as this. How can you fail to apprehend one woman and destroy one starfighter? What have you been doing? No, don’t answer that,” Skillman waved Overlook’s explanation away. “Where is Commander Kethlan?”

  “He is preparing to move from Spirit to the Eyananth system. His number one objective is to take down the Firefly, and deal with Chris Bainfield and Sid Wilson.”

  “They’re getting closer, Erik,” Skillman muttered.

  “Yes, sir. I will ensure they do not move in any further.”