Twin suns of Carrola (Starshatter Book 2)
Page 23
________________________________________________________________________________
Anit’za managed to quickly formulate a plan, even before the ’Princess Frog’ had docked with the ship. They would use the captured dropship to deploy on board ’Pion base’ looking for more clues about the kidnapped colonists’ location. Since that facility was built, crewed, and maintained by many pirate clans, it was logical to assume the slave market, redistribution center or whatnot had records of them passing through. The captain didn’t like this, not in the least. They couldn’t just stroll around a pirate base that also had taz’aran military personnel patrolling its halls, with a half-aryan, gorilla, or let alone a giant asgardian in tow. The situation called for a dzenta’rii style approach, or more like a dagger to the neck type of action. Preferably from behind, in a dark, lonely alley, with the one wielding it safely cloaked in the shadows and wearing a top notch TOC just for good measure. He had an idea that perhaps could be implemented with relatively high chances of success, yet it required willing volunteers. Anit’za would play the role of their merciless master and they, the sad, and unwillingly snatched soon-to-be sold on the market, slaves.
He had two of his crewmates in mind. Now, the hard part was how could he convince a telepath, who could crush space stations like pancakes with his mind, to allow himself and the woman he loved to be chained like cattle, again. Then paraded (probably) through the entire station, locked into the slave enclosure, while the Dzenta’rii swindled the data that they needed from Push’va or whatever other slaver scum were there and in possession of it all.
Even if he could convince the duo to partake in this, there were way too many things that could go wrong. If a strategist like him could be sure about one thing while constructing such a plan, it was that everything that could go wrong, would go wrong.
Eventually.
Anit’za needed more aces up his sleeve, and this time simply having one backup would be grossly insufficient. The AI Alice was to be one of the backups since she could easily ravage the base’s mainframe, recovering more intelligence that they might need for later operations. Yet that alone could backfire terribly. AI were mighty, but a base of this size had to have multiple EWS systems, powerful firewalls, and at least a dozen or more Sysops on shift just itching for trouble. Alice was to be heavily involved in all of it, Anit’za was certain, but that had to be a perfectly planned and executed cyber stab.
Lilly was someone who could skulk close by, and ready to provide some stealthy backup whenever they needed it. Pick off an annoying guard or two, hack open doors or remotely control machinery. He wasn’t exactly sure how well would Vasilisa behave with that many pirates around, even if she was to try and blend in, or hide for that matter. Alric’s presence on site was out of the question – at least not in the beginning phase of his plan, thought Anit’za. If anything the last scuffle with proper Clanners had shown him that they absolutely reviled the venerable star marine. And not only that, but they vowed to outright murder him by sacrificing themselves in the process, which was concerning to say the least. Anit’za’s brain quickly incorporated that too in his next plan and slowly developed a plethora of ways to use the newly discovered information to their advantage. He had acquired one very peculiar breaching pod made in the early 70’s, and it was silently resting in Starshatter’s cargo hold, collecting space dust. Somehow-someone-somewhere decided that this thing was way too expensive to mass-produce and discontinued it after creating only one prototype. Anit’za was the single bidder at that asteroid hangar sale and basically stole the thing paying a couple hundred creds only. Its outer hull made of stealth composites, the pod was exactly the size of an armed Terran star marine and had a chameleo-cloak installed on top of her other features. Exactly the delivery system he needed to deploy his devastating half-aryan marine into action with.
They needed to fix Alric’s armored spacesuit and quickly. Too much work, too little time and too few able people doing everything he’d planned. Anit’za sometimes wished to have his trusty android friend Jovos around. That metallic bundle of joy was always doing or saying something interesting and perhaps was more entertaining than all other Dzent’a he’d ever seen combined. Probably that was why he’d promoted Jovos to Chief sommelier and was paying him top dekats. That and he was skilled as hell. Twiddling with a host of small sub-plots in his mind, Anit’za finally prepared the message, coded it, and linked the file to Alice for later use.
The captain continued his planning while checking the demeanor of their new visitor, Mack. The man looked dirty and... burly. He almost oozed insubordination and mistrust in authority, but Anit’za had to admit that having an ’outlaw’ so to speak, might be an asset of sorts. Problem was – that outlaw hated all alien criminals like the Plague. More so than the lawmen of his own kin, he was told, the Terran space bikers prayed upon pirates, cartels and the like. What could he do so that this person might become an asset in this important mission? And in possible future ones? Anit’za spent a minute more thinking and raised an eyebrow, his curiosity irked, after noticing the additional special features Mack’s heavily-armed GAV was sporting.
A bow mounted mazer? Interesting! With another part of the Plan forming in his head, Anit’za suddenly remembered that there were a number of empty containers just sitting in his empty cargo hold...
________________________________________________________________________________
Starshatter shook slightly and everyone felt that all-too familiar sensation in their guts.
They were slipping into hyperspace.
“Everyone follow me to the recreational lounge, please. Lady Vasilisa, leave the ship’s autopilot to stand watch and join us at your earliest convenience.”
Lilly followed their small group limping in the direction of their ship’s ten forward with a sad expression on her face. Mag-locked on her hip was a small Nambu Z07 pistol; dirtied and covered with sunbaked mud, it was still in perfect working order. Mack found it, and her old hand scanner by chance alone, while he himself was looking around the burned remains of ’Murphy’s Landing’. Touching its muddy grip she tried imagining what she could’ve done differently, had she had the pistol in her possession from the very start of her ordeal. Probably she’d shot dead the first two taz’aran soldiers without causing that explosion, loot their stuff quietly and then sne...
Again slipping deep into painful memories of her past, eyes locked on that pistol, Lilly almost tripped over her own two legs. Brynjar playfully poked Lilly’s shoulder, hoping to acquire a slightly more cheerful look out of her. Trying to distract the troubled bunny, the asgardian asked:
“Want me to take a look later?” – he pointed the pistol on her hip and lowering his voice whispered jokingly – “How did you get to know a full fledged space biker? Weren’t they those extremely dangerous types, roaming the Fringe and looting everything not bolted to the floor-plating?!”
Lilly examined his strangely perplexed expression, responding with a slight chuckle:
“He is an old friend that used to visit us often. Bartered with our guys for food, fuel and always brought a ton of interesting stuff with him to pawn. Like alien candy, beer, all sorts of ales, mead...” – she gave Mack an inviting look pointing at the corridor, as he was still standing next to his parked vessel, unsure of what to do – “He used to teach us how to drive and sometimes even gave us a free beer or two!”
Brynjar’s eyes squinted and he murmured silently:
“So he was a smuggler of illegal goods?” – he checked the man again from the vantage point of his giant’s height – “And he had a destructive influence upon the youth of your colony too. Giving alcohol to little children? How could he!”
Lilly turned around, surprised by the stern tone of voice her asgardian friend was using, only to be met with a wide grin. Brynjar picked the bunny up by the belt and placed her on top of his left shoulder. Seeing that, Mack lowered his dirty sunglasses with a meaty finger and snarled:
He exchanged yet another intense glare with Boris, and that baffled Kera. Before Mack entered the corridor leading to the ship’s insides, he slowed down and, tapping his forehead with his index finger, muttered:
“There is no point even trying it chum, your shit won’t work on me.”
Kera, now even more confused, held her husband’s had and pulled him back for a moment whispering in his ear:
“Husband, why was this man so... aggressive? And why was he shrouded by an Avern’a charm?”– she noticed that special twitch on Boris’s face, the same one predicting long investigative work and sleepless nights. Kera sighed and kissed his cheek:
“Come, we both need to eat, husband.” – the woman looked at her hands – “A lot of energy is used up during mating.”
Boris’ gaze lightened up and he made a step forward, his hand wrapped around her waist. The curious thing was, she didn’t have to use any of her witch’s charms on him like others of her kind, who sometimes had to “entrap” a mate. That was not the normal way of doing things and women who actually did so, greatly suffered because of these transgressions later in life. Even with all the power that link had bestowed upon her, Kera had never misused it in such a fashion, only to alleviate stress and help her man concentrate, not to manipulate him. Normal Avern’a had no such powers, and her own mother was definitely not a witch by any stretch of the imagination. She had her feminine ways, of course, and taught little Kera how an Avern’a lady should behave herself. Before she was taken, her mother had spoken at length about building mutual respect, aiding one another and maintaining happiness. And happiness required a lot of lovemaking, understanding your partner and letting him know your own struggles, your thoughts. Not all women had a telepathic partner who could instantly read their minds and know what it was they wanted at that particular moment. She had seen how Terran mothers were patiently instructing their daughters, teaching them to communicate their feelings, desires and in the same time expect the same from their husbands. Respect and consideration for the other were important foundations of a successful partnership.
The Avern’a were honest people – that was noticeable in their relationships and everything else that they did. What best described their mating links was the pure devotion they had for each other. So much so, that if one would die, the other soon followed body and mind waning from the loss of their mate. Children were imprinted by parents with some of their knowledge and skill from birth, and for a moment Kera wondered what their own offspring would look like. For certain, and one after the other, a human and then an avern’a child would emerge into the world, each carrying imprints from their parents’ DNA. It was the mother’s job to manipulate the whole process, ensuring that only the very best DNA strains were bonded together. And that was a job most satisfying, she had to wholesomely agree with her mother on that. Kera peered deep into her mate’s eyes while summoning just a tiny bit of her witches’ powers. In her mind suddenly she heard a baby’s laughter, and smiled, pulling Boris’s hand. There were tiny galaxies, stars swirling and shining in her pink eyes. Boris sighed, his face stretching into another one of his very rare, happy smiles.
Walking towards the ten forward, Kera made couple of mental notes. First, her hamster patient Awesome was about to wake up some hours later today. She didn’t know what was happening in his head, and everything less than using her link to find out was useless. Even Boris couldn’t pinpoint specific thoughts when inspecting a hamster’s mind. Too slippery, fast thinking, and strange, were their ways of perceiving reality. Alric was all but fine. As a matter of fact, she saw him slowly hobbling toward the their mess hall too, soon joined by his wife Vasilisa, who gave her and her husband a grateful nod. Kera smiled, noticing how Alric’s whole demeanor changed when his mate hugged him.
Both as a medical professional, and an Avern’a witch, she now had the obligation to heal everyone – body, mind and soul. Keeping them in top shape too. As for the captain’s master plan; she wasn’t sure of its complete success. Donning some raggedy outfit, a slave collar, and then being paraded around the decks of that pirate base wasn’t something one would usually do. Unless it was for a greater cause, of course, and Kera had to agree with what she knew would follow when her crewmates boarded Pion base.
Enslavers had to pay dearly.
Even if she wouldn’t kill, herself, Kera had little to no sympathy for their kind. Moreover, Boris would go completely ballistic (as the humans said) and unleash everything that he had – even the souls, who were constantly wailing and begging to be avenged. Her captain had sent her the parameters of his marvelous plot, and she had to at least try convincing her mate to stay calm. Yet, had he had the possibility to visit her homeworld of Avern’a, Kera was assured – something horrible would transpire. The amount of suffering, death and destruction caused by the Jaern invader. The billions of Avern’a souls still lingering around. All of that could affect her man in a most unpredictable manner, and as much as she wanted to return back home, Kera knew that more time was needed. Time that both will use to increase the hold that they had over those powers of theirs. Those of her kind who were left alive had somehow managed to resist the Jaern and held their own against the ever increasing in number “hunters”. The cannibalization of her people, their suffering had gone for far too long.
It had to stop.
________________________________________________________________________________
Dozan and Brynjar entered ten forward first after their captain, and were now pulling portions of perfectly preserved stew from their stasis unit next to the box kitchen. Quickly, they heated it and began eating. A silent understanding was instantly formed between the two men as they were the biggest and in need of most calories on board, both consuming a ration more than the rest. Lilly this time was sitting next with her, by comparison, tiny bowl, full of vegetable soup. The bunny watched them devouring plate after plate and her heart was warmed by pleasant memories. Murphy’s landing had a colony farm fair that always organized multiple eating contests and container crawling runs. She snickered remembering how her friends hid two by two in their small containers, switching mid hop in an effort to win the race. Sneaky little bastards they were...
Cat was the last to enter ten forward and tiredly slumped next to her captain. The dzent’a studied her face for a while and then produced a large plate of freshly made sammiches from under the bar. The aroma of spices and sauce filling her nostrils made Cat smile as she reached for the plate, snatching sammich after sammich, stuffing her face. Somehow those ’Special Gorilla Bread Sammiches’, as her captain called them, managed to always whisk Cat away back to her childhood days spent on Mars. The smell of her father’s apron as he was kneading the dough, and mother pulling the ham out of their smoker. How did that alien manage to do it?! She cared not, only the gesture was important. Their captain knew how to create creature comforts for each and everyone of them on this ship.
Even the cat. After a month on the ship, Cat noticed that the store bought cat food was gone, soon realizing that Snark was eating from specially made cans with her name on them. He’d somehow created a holo-art combining her ugly mug and Snark’s changing sad-to-happy face, visible when one turned the can at a light source. It was hilarious. The gorilla could swear – her captain was perhaps more of a jester than their hamster. Then again the hamster was... awesomer.
She tried reflecting on what had happened during their battle on Carrola before Anit’za had started laying out his plan. It was indeed as she suspected, this time the taz’arans had competent troops. Well equipped and properly led, at least throughout most of the battle. She noticed the switch in leadership during the end phase of their engagement. Someone ha
d found their big brass balls, or whatever reproductive organs their commander had, and saved themselves. It was nothing short of amazing, and she shuddered after thinking what would their overall situation be if the tazzies had more leaders like this one. Cat also noted her mistake. Had she pulled everyone back after Brynjar was attacked by the PA’s, they’d probably suffered less wounds. Their morale officer Dozan also was in dire need of up-armoring. Yes, his uniform was awesome and such, but particle-beams cared little of their target’s sex, body size or fashion choices.
The XO expected that those few days they’d spend in hyperspace, will be hard, long and tiring. Even with her gorilla strength and fortitude, Cat thought that reaching operational readiness for this OP to be one small nightmare. Especially with that new human on board. Perhaps he and she could work better together than the rest? Cat aimed to tackle a character like him, accepting his presence more like as an opportunity than an obstacle. Noticing that he wasn’t yet eating, she grabbed the plate, walked over to his table and basically stuffed one of the sammiches directly into his open, gaping mouth. Whatever surprise Mack’s eyes would’ve exclaimed was concealed by those sunglasses of his. What followed was chewing noises and happy grunting. To her surprise the man actually ate clean, and in the end of the feast his beard wasn’t full of food crumbs.
Soon the ten forward was abuzz with idle, relaxing chatter, and while some were still exchanging hostile glares, what all did enjoy was Anit’za’s cooking. The captain, always embroiled in thought, spent hours down here – perfecting the many hundreds of recipes that he’d mastered out of sheer boredom. Their stasis unit was chalk full of ready to eat portions, preserved for the foreseeable future. Certainly ’Starshatter’ had no problem with food rationing, nor the overall quality of its crew’s nourishment. As one of the old Earth’s generals instructed, the captain followed. No matter the fact that his “army” was a dozen strong only, and they didn’t march, but rather ventured throughout the space between stars and planets.