by Will Crudge
“Wh- what are you?” The female leader stutters in confusion. I’m actually impressed that she’s holding her composure as well as she is.
“I am a Zodiac. So is my companion here.” Shade answers while gesturing with her head towards Grinder. “We are members of the War Master Guild, and we are conducting official business of the combined fleet of the UAHC and UDF. Please stand down, and we can explain.”
UDF? That acronym gets hung in my mind. Oh yeah, duh! It stands for Unum Defense Force. Unum hasn’t had a standing military force in centuries. They’ve traditionally contracted their security and law enforcement out, but with a very unique clause… If Unum is in an active state of war, the security firm would be nationalized into a military force. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the new world I’ve come out of exile into, so bear with me…
“The hell you say!” The leader-lady-bitch spits. “All I see are two big-fucking circus animals with blood-stained snouts! And all these other circus freaks look like scavenging pirates to me!”
“Please, Madam…” Shade tries to calmly reason with her, but it doesn’t seem to be doing any good.
“One more word out of your mouth… or whatever that fucking thing around your neck is… and you’ll be dropped like a bad habit!” The leader-cunt-bitch shouts once more. She then whispers something inside her microphone… as if whispering actually matters. Panthers, wolf-dogs, and infantry battle drones are all fully capable of picking up on every word.
Marbles replies.
Then a crackling sound comes out of the ancient intercom speakers within the dilapidated docking area. “Attention, Titan Security Forces! This is the UDF Long-Range Fighter, Blood-Reaper! You are wrongfully detaining critical allied personnel, and you need to stand down!”
Shit! I almost forgot about Kindle, Jimma’s ship NAV. It’s nice to know that there’s an LRF-90 super fighter just outside the dock entrance!
The security team begins to glance around nervously. The leader-stinky-snatch-whore-person seems less shaken, however. “Clever pirate trick, I’ll give you that! But unfortunately for you, that’s all the probable cause I need to cut you down!” She gestures to her team to take aim, but they are all too distracted by the sounds of the docking bay door as it creaks open.
The door opens up to the view of a blood-red LRF-90 super fighter that is hovering a few meters beyond the atmospheric protection field. Its weapons bays are open, and a gnarly array of heavy beam launchers, cannons, and missiles are on full display.
The female leader-thunder-cunt-whore-bitch-slut-person of the security team begins to spout orders to her team, but by the time she opens her mouth, they’ve already begun to drop their rifles. “What the fuck are you doing?!” She yells at them.
One of the team members speaks up. “Sergeant, that thing is an LRF-90! Pirates would never be able to get a hold of one of those, not to mention that civilians can’t even get their hands on that kind of weaponry. It’s got to be legit… Unless you want to risk your life, and ours, in the process, I suggest you stand down as well!”
Smart deputy-leader-bitch-cunt-octopussy-I’m-running-out-of-clever-words-to-hyphonate-person!
“He speaks the truth, dear!” Shade interjected, and the Sergeant wheeled her head back around towards her, with her face seemingly in shock. Shade was within a meter of her, and the Sergeant tried to point her rifle directly at the panther’s head…. Tried.
Shade swipes the rifle out of the Sergeant’s hand with a single slap of her massive paw. The rifle skids across the deck harmlessly. “Now listen, dear!” Shade says sternly. “Either I can have you locked up for treason, or you can decide to stand down…. But there is also a third option that you won’t live to regret, understand?”
The dumb heifer finally complies with a scornful look on her bitch-ass face. I fight the urge to slap her. As I debate how many different ways I’d like to rearrange her facial features, the LRF comes in for a landing.
Known as, Blood-Reaper, I find it odd that its NAV system is named Kindle. I’ll later discover that the NAV decided to change her name, as she identified as female. But she insisted on maintaining Blood-Reaper as the registered name of the vessel… A vessel that she owned, as it stands… So, I guess she was the registered owner of herself? I wonder what the hull maintenance system, Reaper, thinks about it. It’s kind of confusing. All I know is that she’s the designated fighter for the Sovereign of Unum, who happens to be the father of our Guild. But that’s another story…
“Uh… I only have so much room in here, folks!” Kindle said over the exterior ship’s speakers. “I hope you fine people… err… and battle drone, have a ride.”
I didn’t have time to reply… The thruster array of a UAHC frigate is blinding me with light and warming me up with thermal energy, and ions. It’s conducting an obvious, yet insanely dangerous DECEL maneuver. The frigate comes to a stop a few meters from the open docking bay doors.
“I’ll – be - damned!” Kindle laughed out loud. “Hey, y’all… You ARE NOT going to believe this shit!”
A LONG JOURNEY HOME
Jimma and I stand on the precipice of the docking structure overhang. She spent the last hour explaining how she escaped the clutches of Peterson. Fortunately, she put on a fresh pair of pants first. It’s less awkward to talk to someone when you can’t see their lady bits, after all.
I key in on something she said about Primal Rage. She even prefaced it by explaining how her bloodline was prone to Primal Rage like mine is. But it would seem she had her own problems with calling on the power during our fight. Her entire plan hinged on calling forth the Rage while having Grinder close by to help her stay in control. It would have probably won the day without a single shot fired.
Apparently, when she tried to call on the Rage, it wasn’t there. She said it was as if she was ‘melded into an empty vessel.’ The vessel was me. Somehow, she was hindered from calling it forth because she was melded with my empty shell of a body.
She also said that she woke up shortly after the ship was in flight, and ended up dispatching Peterson handily. She pulled it off by calling on her Rage and letting it flow through her without trying to stop it. She had had an epiphany of sorts. She had been so afraid of raging again without a Zodiac, that she was feeding her lack of control. It was as if she was the cause of her own failures in the past.
But she had discovered the truth. She was able to call it forth without fear. Without resisting it. It was the mental friction of fear that was causing it to enflame and burn out of control. But this time she became one with it and escaped captivity. She flew the frigate back to the orbital habitat, and now here she stands.
“I know you said that you want to go to Unum and complete your training, but I think that’s not what you need right now.” She says as she places her hand on my shoulder.
“But why not?” I ask.
“You say that your ‘Rage is dead,’ but that’s not true.” She says. I blink in confusion. I try hard to digest the bombshell she just laid on me.
“But I burned it out. It’s gone. I haven’t felt it in ten years!” I try to explain. She just smiles at me.
“First of all, it’s not your Rage. It’s just Primal Rage. It’s the same energy that we all can tap into. You’ve just probably damaged your own body’s ability to call it forth. Or perhaps it has just retreated from you on purpose. Either is possible, but that doesn’t mean it’s the end of it.” She explains.
“But where would I go? How would I fix it?” I ask. I’m flooded with emotion. I’m grasping for answers.
“Come with me
to the fleet.” She says.
“The fleet?” I ask. “Isn’t humanity at war with some kind of alien race, or something?”
She nods. “I’ll take you to your father. He’s the Guild advisor to the UDF. He may be able to help you find the answer.”
My father. I break out into tears. My lips tremble. I realize how much I miss him. Just to see his face, or just fall into his arms. Even the thought of ruffling my hands in Killjoys thick tiger fur makes me ache for the chance.
“Let’s go to war, then,” I say. She wipes away my tears and gives me a gigantic hug.
EPILOGUE
The CIC of the massive juggernaut was ablaze with activity. The garnet colored dress uniforms and flight suits of the UDF officers intermingled with the light-duty powered armor of the UAHC Soldiers. The UAHC’s standard matte silver armor finish was not in use in this environment. The black sub armor made for an aesthetic backdrop for the highly polished plating.
The room was massive by any measure. Juggernauts were the largest class of warship ever constructed by humanity, so it was no surprise to War Master Condor McAlister that it could fit over two hundred workstations at full capacity. He always enjoyed taking his eyes off of the myriad of data displays to take in the awesome spectacle of the space.
A massive holographic display hovered over the center of the room, and the bulk of the workstations faced inward towards it. Rows of staff NCO’s and officers studiously worked at battle tracking and mission planning. The generally circular room’s bulkheads were lined with workstations for engineering and communications functions that didn’t have a particular requirement to constantly conduct warfare. These were mission support roles, and thus they dotted the perimeter, faced the bulkheads, and even extended into any number of alcoves and vestibules that branched off of the main CIC.
Condor was the sworn advisor to the Unum Defense forces commander, General Garcia. He himself didn’t have a command position, but he was granted a commission as a Lieutenant General in acknowledgment of his unique position.
It had been two centuries since the last War Masters had assumed their most important role. Advisors. Experts in every aspect of war, a War Master was at his or her most valuable when they could provide strategic counsel to humanity’s military forces. Even when it meant that the enemy had a War Master to advise them, as well. The Guild’s goal was not to take sides, but rather to inspire humanity to conduct warfare with minimal collateral damage or suffering.
Condor begins to pace around the holographic display pedestal. He takes in the sight of the monument of human technology. Not only is it a large scale display, but it also serves as the latest generation QET. The Quantum Entanglement Transmitter allows for instant communication with other QET’s regardless of the distance. Previous models didn’t allow for the complexities of AI usage, and any data packets sent through it had to be limited in file size and encryption complexity. But this model didn’t have that limitation. Although it couldn’t entangle with older generation models, it could keep tabs with most of the capital ships in the combined fleet. Every series of QET’s have to be manufactured simultaneously in order for the entanglement process to take hold, so there were a limited number of them to go around.
“Condor.” A disembodied voice calls out to him. He recognizes the voice belonging to Midas, the AI.
“Yes, Midas?” He said. He doesn’t bother looking for a face. Midas is far too ancient and complex to offer an avatar unless the situation was dire.
“You are being hailed.” Midas’ voice echoes softly.
“Who is it?” The War Master asked.
“Throat.”
Condor rubbed his eyes for a moment. His thoughts were filled with frustration. Throat was the NAV system aboard the Throat-Slasher. The LRF that had been in his deceased wife’s family for centuries. Although the NAV was the closest thing to the immediate family he had left, his dislike for small-scale spacefaring had always triggered a natural disdain towards the NAV. But sometimes he wondered if it was merely the loss of both his wife and his daughter that triggered an irrational response. The fighter had been destined to be inherited by his daughter… But she’s been dead for decades. The victim of treachery against the last Guild Temple outside of Unum. His temple. The temple where his daughter had last been seen alive.
“Please put him through to my manual interface, Midas,” Condor said with a tone of reluctance.
“As you wish, Condor,” Midas replied.
Condor scratched his head. Nearby, and splayed out on the deck, the massive Tiger, Killjoy lifted his head from his slumber.
Throat said. Condor suspected that he was laughing on the other end, but it’s difficult to pick up on emotions via the manual interface.
Condor let Throat’s words digest for a moment. Jimma’s sole mission was to retrieve the elder Zodiac, known as Shade. If possible, she was to either kill or capture the rogue brothers that had taken her. Her ship should have ample space for two Zodiacs, and at least three restrained captives. He thought to himself.
Condor reasserts.
“Midas?” Condor says audibly.
“Yes, Condor. I’m already establishing the QET link. However, you should do as Throat suggests.” Midas replies.
“Please explain the sense of urgency, Midas,” Condor said respectfully. Midas is a canonized entity within the Guild’s spiritual doctrine, so the War Master chooses his words carefully. A five-thousand-year-old AI should be respected at all times, by Condor’s reckoning.
“As you know, I am not known for expressing the sentiment, but in this case, I feel it is prudent. The passenger list of
the other vessel would be of profound interest to you.” Midas explains.
Condor just blinks in disbelief. He trusts the god-like AI with every fiber of his being, but he knows that it’s not in the entity’s nature to be cryptic. “Very well, Midas. Please relay the order to one of our alert squadrons before initializing the QET.”
“It has already been done,” Midas replies. To Condor’s surprise, an avatar appears in the holographic display of the QET. It’s a golden face of a kind looking old man. The avatar’s eyes peer down at the War Master with creases of joy and compassion. “I ran Throat’s predictive model, and I concur with his assessment. Not to mention, Jimma’s current trajectory has her coming to an intersect point on our own vector.”
Condor shakes his head while keeping his incredulous eyes on the avatar. He barely notices that every staff officer and NCO within the CIC is standing at attention and rendering a salute towards the avatar. “I suppose I’ll inform Jep of his daughter’s status.” He said with a quick shoulder shrug.
The golden avatar dissolves, but not before its lips formed an affectionate smile. The benevolent AI gives way to the image of War Master Jep. The ghostly image of Jep hovers within the viewing space of the QET pedestal. The elder War Master’s grey streaked ponytail seemed even more pronounced in the blueish hue than what Condor was accustomed to. The older War Master might be half a millennium in age, but he is still in his physical prime and stands with his shoulders squared back in confidence.
“Greetings, Condor!” Jep spoke with a curt nod.
“Greetings, old friend!” Condor replied.
“I just received the data burst from Throat.”
“Indeed. I apologize for stepping out of turn, but it would appear that Midas forced my hand.” Condor chuckled.
“Liar!” Midas chimed in with a very rare display of humor. Both War Masters laughed for a few moments.
