Warborg - Star Panther

by Olson, Ry

  “Roger, Bozo one,” The voice heaved. “Or they could just be waiting for us to do something, they’ll do that once in a while. The Rhome have always been arrogant.”

  “From what you tell us, for good reason.” The squad leader commented. “No one has ever been able to stop them.”

  “Unfortunate, but true.” The voice from the Koth command sounded almost disgusted. “We’ve been able to delay their advances, but not stop them. We’re not even sure how much longer we can keep them from discovering you humans. Three more of their scout ships hit the zone barrier during the last two days, if one gets through the show’s over. Some of their forces will start bypassing us to attack you directly.” The voice brightened noticeably. “But we still have great hope that the human’s ability to fight supplemented with our technology may prove powerful enough to drive them back.”

  Another little mystery solved. Martin felt a tightening of his gut at the thought of facing yet another alien enemy . . . one even the Koth couldn’t handle.

  “No offense, command.” another warborg commented a little sourly. “But I still can’t believe what crumby warriors you are for all your advanced technology.”

  “Non taken, Bozo two.” The voice sounded slightly apologetic. “You’re not telling us anything we haven’t known for a thousand years fighting the Rhome.”

  A thousand of years!! Martin was aghast, both at the cheekiness of the warborg toward the Koth command and the answer. Jeez, how long have these guys been at it, for crying out loud.

  “I’m not complaining about your technology though. These new particle cannons you gave us are dyn-o-mite!” Bozo two added with a laugh.

  The Koth have modified their ships! Martin shook his head in deepening confusion.

  “We’re glad you approve,” the voice was laced with humor then grew more serious. “After the gunfighter destroyed the second sweeper ship we halted all attacks against your forces. You humans have become much more dangerous than the Rhome in localized battles, which is what we always hoped would come about. And we need those resources here.” The command voice sighed audibly. “Now we just have to find a way to establish communication between our species.”

  “That ain’t going to be easy.” Bozo two stated. “Intellectually killing off a million or so humans may make sense, but emotionally humans are going to hate the Koth forever.”

  “We know,” the command voice was hard and dry. “The loss of human life has been horrendous and we have lost three times that many. But if it means the survival of both our species then we don’t care if you do hate us till the end of time, it was worth every single life.” There was a pause and the command voice softened. “Let the future judge us. The point still stands, we have to get in contact with your leaders.”

  Well, that’s pretty much direct and to the point. Martin thought, mulling over the situation

  “And the offer still stands,” Bozo one volunteered. “We can head back and as soon as we’re in communication range have someone come and meet us.”

  “It’s a good option and we appreciate the offer, but we may not need it.” The voice sounded sincere. There was a long, very noticeable pause. “In fact, we suspect a human ship has penetrated our space. We’ve gotten faint traces but can’t track it.”

  The squad leader gave a hoarse laugh. “If there is one around, my bet is it’s the Star Panther.”

  “It would be our guess as well that it’s Major Morgan in the Star Panther, but until we make contact we’ll never know for sure.” The voice on the command channel gave a very human like sigh. “And unfortunately, he has no reason to contact us . . . so close to the end of this, yet so far.”

  Martin was mentally staggering. They know about the Star Panther . . . and me?

  “Major Morgan, come out, come out, where ever you are.” A female warborg laughed.

  “If it were only that easy,” Bozo one sighed.

  Martin made up his mind as he listened to the conversation. No one has ever stopped the Rhome, huh? Until now, they’ve never met Star Panther. “Fella, do we have a curve for the Rhome fighters from the fight we saw.” The Panther’s FTL signature shifted slightly from Koth to Rhome. “I like it!” He smiled at Prowler and studied the Rhome sweeper ships hanging in space. “Let’s go introduce ourselves to the Rhome with a little act of war. There will be hell to pay if I’m wrong, but sometimes you just have to go with your gut instinct.” He smiled. “One shot each, point blank right up their tail pipes with the big gun, little buddy. Save the damaged one for last. Then get us the hell out of Dodge.” It wasn’t a particularly friendly smile.

  42: The Bozo’s

  Bozo squadron leader Captain Steve Harlin stared glumly at the three Rhome sweeper ships. ^You going to be ok, Byron?^

  ^Yeah, I’m all right. I’ve got some damage to the fire control system and my sensors are a mess.^ He shook his head bitterly. ^I can’t believe they set us up.^

  ^I guess we should have expected something like this sooner or later. ^ Steve commented quietly. ^We’ve picked off a bunch of sweepers for the big guys to finish.^

  ^True.^ Lieutenant Byron Lacy perked up. ^And they haven’t had a lot of luck stopping us.^

  ^Not that they haven’t tried now and then.^ Captain Gypsy Rae laughed. ^So command thinks there’s a human ship on the loose in their space?^

  ^That’s what he said.^ Steve smiled. ^And the fact that they can’t pin it down fascinates me. For all their lumps the Koth are pretty good at keeping track of what’s going on.^

  ^Maybe this weirdness will finally be over.^ Byron added wistfully.

  ^If he ever shows up.^ Steve sighed in frustration.

  Byron stared at the sweeper ships sitting in a triangle formation with their main weapons over lapping. ^Would you look at those big fat Rhome turds just sitting there, daring us or the Koth to do something.^ He smiled. ^Oh well, I guess it’s better than them making runs at us.^

  ^At least the Koth have a little class once you get to know them.^ Gypsy muttered. ^Unlike these Bolshevik bastards who want to own the universe . . . all by themselves. Xenophobic jerk wads.^

  ^I wish you’d tell us what you really think, Gypsy,^ Steve laughed. ^The Koth heavies should be here in a minute or so, and the show will begin.^ He grew more serious. ^With three of them it’s going to be really ugly.^

  Byron took a deep breath and blew it out. ^I don’t love the Koth, but I wish we could hel . . .^

  He was cut off when the back half of all three Rhome sweepers exploded sequentially in less than a second. The three warborgs sat in stunned silence for a second.

  ^What the fuck!^ Byron gasped at the sight.

  ^Oh my God. What happened?^ Gypsy rasped in disbelief.

  “Command, did you see anything?” Steve queried in a rush.

  “Negative, Bozo leader . . . we’re pulling data from a surveillance ship in the area.” The usually staid voice showed some rare emotion.

  “Steve,” Gypsy interrupted on the command channel. “I show a Rhome fighter appeared just aft of the ships as they exploded. It was there and gone almost too quick for the instruments to detect.”

  “Command, did you copy that?” Steve asked.

  “Roger, Bozo leader . . . we have confirmation on the Rhome fighter.” The voice replied calmly.

  “Where did it go?” Steve asked command. ^And where did it come from?^ He asked the others.

  Byron laughed. ^I suspect Star Panther just introduced itself to the Rhome.^

  “Bozo leader . . .” It was rare to hear any hesitation from the Koth command, let alone uncertainty. “We have no idea. Surveillance showed the Rhome fighter leave the area, then an unidentified strike fighter jumped out and vanished.” There was a noticeable pause. “We suspect the ship was a human warborg.”

  “We concur on the ship identity, command.” Steve agreed. “Can you give me the last known coordinates of the unidentified strike fighter.” He glanced down as data appeared in his FTL control. “Thank you, comma
nd.”

  “Do you request assistance, Bozo leader?” Command enquired.

  “Negative command, I repeat negative.” Steve hesitated. “In fact get all of your ships out of the area . . . including any surveillance ships.” He thought for a moment. “And make sure he can see them leave.”

  There was a long pause. “Bozo leader, please clarify your request for removing our ships.”

  Steve sighed. So smart, yet so thick sometimes. “Command, the unknown ship is most likely the Federation Star Panther and we all know it. This warborg is smart and very, very dangerous . . . as you’ve seen. He’s deep in hostile territory and will be suspicious and wary of everything. He let us know he’s here, and is willing to talk. I figure we have one shot at this. If he suspects anything is amiss or feels threatened in any way, he’s going to be gone and we’ll never see him again. Our best chance to communicate with him is by me going in alone and meeting on his terms.”

  “Very well, Bozo leader. We’re pulling out all our ships now.” There was a slight pause. “And good luck, Captain Harlin.”

  While Steve was communicating with Koth command he watched several heavy cruisers arrive, but by then the severely damaged Rhome sweepers had all failed entirely and were drifting derelicts. The cruisers left without firing a shot. ^Gypsy, you and Byron head back.^ He forced a smile. ^I’ve got to go talk to a man about a horse.^ And hope he let’s me explain before he takes me out as a traitor. The other two nodded with pinched smiles and broke the hardlink in silence.

  . . .

  Martin watched in satisfaction as Koth ships evacuated the area. “Well, somebody’s thinking on their feet.” He commented to Prowler.

  Martin smiled a few minutes later when a lone warborg arrived and settled into normal space at the point of his last microjump. He considered his options as he pulled up the information on the four hijacked warborgs. Captain Steve Harlin. He thought, remembering the Koth command addressing a Captain Harlin as the squadron leader. I wonder what happened to Major Lynch who is listed as the squad leader? Martin requested a hardlink.

  Captain Harlin looked decidedly uncomfortable as he appeared in the grayness of the hardlink. He saluted Martin. ^Captain Harlin reporting, Sir.^

  Martin studied the young officer for a moment before returning the salute. ^Major Morgan.^ He looked the captain in the eye. ^Tell me a story, Captain.^ He requested coolly. ^From the beginning, the short version.^

  . . .

  “Oh man, this is beautiful.” Gypsy gushed, gawking around at the yacht lounge.

  “Major Morgan, this is Captain Gypsy Rae.” Steve introduced.

  “And I’m Lieutenant Byron Lacy, Sir.” He gave Martin a huge smile. “It is an honor to meet you.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Martin smiled down at the diminutive woman and the slightly gawky young man in turn. “Just call me Martin.” He waved them into seats.

  Gypsy collapsed into a lounge chair and immediately curled into a ball with her legs on the seat and head resting on the massive armrest. “I’m in heaven guys, wake me when the war’s over,” she sighed.

  “Tell me you’ve got coffee, please tell me you’ve got coffee.” Byron pleaded.

  Martin laughed. “Blue Mountain or Colombian?” He waved Byron to a cart that appeared at the side of the lounge.

  The young man almost killed himself getting to the cart. He poured a cup from one of the decanters and took a deep sniff. “Sorry Steve, I’m going on leave for a while to be Martin’s love slave.” He took a sip and fairly burst with contentment.

  Martin studied the two newcomers for a second with a relaxed smile. He turned to Steve and waved him into a chair. “So you guys have been living in the gray world for a few months.” He grinned when he realized Gypsy was passed out cold. “Not a lot of fun.”

  “No, it hasn’t been.” Steve answered quietly as he settled into one of the lounge chairs. He stretched as he settled into the cushions. “Oh yeah,” he sighed, his smile conveying more thanks that words ever could.

  Byron wandered around the spacious lounge taking in the opulence. “This place is simply unbelievable, Martin. I don’t know how we can ever thank you enough for inviting us aboard.” He poured another cup of coffee from the second decanter. “I can’t believe how much I simply missed walking.”

  Steve levered himself out of the chair and wandered over to the coffee. He poured himself a cup and raised a questioning eyebrow at Martin. Martin waved him off. “The strike fighters are good little ships,” Steve commented on his way back to his chair, “but they were never meant to be self contained. They’re always supposed to be with a support group. So they don’t have the facilities for a self contained environment, or a lot of other common amenities for that matter.”

  “I guess I never really gave it much thought when I was in my light, just took it all for granted.” Martin nodded.

  Steve sat with his coffee cup resting on his knee. “I can’t believe your ship has enough computer capacity for all of us to be here at once.”

  Byron finally eased himself into a lounge chair and smiled in delight when he found the button to raise the foot rest. “I could do this.”

  Martin looked at Steve. “Quite the story you have.” He grew a little more somber. “I’m sorry to hear about Major Lynch, sounds like he was a good troop.”

  Byron hesitated. “The major wasn’t the best pilot I ever met, but he was one of the best guys. Kept a lid on us until we got situated here.” He looked a little forlorn with a smidgen of guilt. “Sometimes that wasn’t easy.”

  Steve sighed. “Things were pretty wild when they hit the group and grabbed us.” He looked over at the sleeping girl. “Gypsy was a basket case. It was her first combat assignment and she’d only been with us for six weeks.”

  “I think we all were, in one way or another.” Byron added quietly. “Thank God we could still hardlink between us.”

  “It was decidedly unnerving.” Steve hesitated. “A report comes through about an incoming hostile and to scramble, then less than a second later everything went dead.”

  “How come you guys were all in the bays, not out on patrol?” Martin asked.

  Steve sighed. “The group was just about to relocate. For some reason we’ll never know the group commander wanted all the fighters, manned or otherwise, in the bays when we moved.” He shook his head. “We’d only been in the bays a couple of minutes when they attacked.”

  Byron sagged. “They had to have been watching us, just waiting for a chance.” He looked bitter. “All that planning and destruction just to capture four warborgs.”

  Steve looked narrowly at Martin. “How did you know we were still in the bays?”

  It was Martin’s turn to sigh. “I was the first one to get to your group.” He shrugged. “I saw the damage where they cut trough the tie downs.”

  “Did anyone else survive?” Byron asked quietly.

  Martin looked at the other two with sad eyes. “No.” His voice was just a whisper.

  Byron leaned back in his seat. “We figured that. Poor Gypsy,” he glanced at the sleeping girl. “She had a boyfriend, a techmaintborg, in the group that she really doted on.”

  “Anyway,” Steve sighed with a nod then continued, “our ships were stone cold and we couldn’t do a thing but watch as they took us out of the bays.” A look of past terror flashed through his eyes. “They loaded us into a transport and we didn’t know what was happening or where we were going for over a month.”

  Byron paled noticeably. “It was the scariest time of my life, worse than when I was first put in a container.”

  Steve nodded in agreement. “Yeah it was pretty bad.” He took a deep breath. “Eventually we wound up in the main enclave.” He shook his head. “I assume you saw it on your way through, unbelievable. We were unloaded inside a huge facility, it wasn’t until later that we actually saw the size of the group, let alone the ships.” He took a sip of coffee and closed his eyes for a moment. “Once we were offloaded the
y made contact with us.”

  Byron’s eyes grew big. “Man, that was so strange. It was voice only, perfectly clear, no accents, no nothing. Just sounded like we were talking to a normal Joe.” He smiled. “I guess we’re the first human’s to ever communicate with the Koth.”

  “The Major did all the talking at first.” Steve resumed. “It was all just so . . . odd. From the beginning they were friendly, compassionate and very open with us. We’d ask a question and they’d answer, no matter what it was.”

  “Yeah, it was bizarre. Never any threats or hostility. If they asked us something and we didn’t want to answer they would just move on to something else.” Byron shrugged and shook his head in remembered confusion.

  “So why in the hell did they go to so much trouble to take you guys?” Martin asked earnestly.

  Steve smiled. “We asked them that very question when it became obvious we weren’t headed for immediate dissection.” He smiled and laughed. “The answer was so obvious when they told us it was funny. Because of their physiology they can’t become cyborgs, well nothing like us anyway. And they wanted to make sure there were really humans in the warborgs and we weren’t just some sort of super duper robot ships.”

  Byron laughed. “Boy, did it confuse them when we explained cyborgs weren’t the best and the brightest that humanity had to offer, but rather were victims of extreme physical injuries or an occasional volunteer. It took them a while to grasp that. They figured they’d grabbed a group of potential diplomats, not a bunch of dumb shit, wild ass fighter jocks.” He hesitated. “Although, I think Major Lynch would have made a fine liaison,” he finished with a sad smile.

  “So then what happened?” Martin asked.

  “Well,” Steve scratched his head. “After a couple weeks it became clear to us were in no real danger from the Koth, unless we attacked them. Oh, they don’t mind the name, by the way. What they call themselves is completely unintelligible. And they admitted they didn’t know what to do with us, it was kind of a Mexican standoff of confusion.” Steve sipped his coffee and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “Major, there is so much going on here it boggles the mind.”