"Hey! Ivanov! Want to play a game of chicken?" Forrest asked.
A lone bead of sweat crept down Ivanov's neck. His thoughts swirled inside his mind: What is this man doing? Who would charge a battleship? Is this man crazy?
"So Ivanov,” Sujay said over the comm. “I see that your loyalty is quite...flimsy since you were willing to shoot me out of the sky. I don’t think I’ll take your offer to defect.”
"Sir, the auto turrets can't get a lock. What do we do?" One of the officers on deck asked Ivanov.
Ivanov stared blankly out the window in stunned silence.
"AUGH!" Forrest screamed.
"GET DOWN!" Ivanov bellowed to his crew.
At the last second, Forrest pulled up, and scraped against the bridge. He slammed his fist on the button which cut the cable. Gravity carried the bomber into the bridge. The sound of metal’s shrill screech as it tore against more metal felt like a nail driven into the ears of the onlookers. People on land panicked as the bomber ripped through the bridge, and smothered the officers in an infernal fusion of smoke and fire. Streams of sheared metal, debris and molten slag pour from the bridge onto the city below.
“She’s blind! Let’s bring this battleship down! All squadrons concentrate firepower on the engines!” Sujay screamed into the comm.
“Roger that, Starfleet Commander,” Forrest replied.
A flock of fighters swirled around the engines of the battleship. They fired and pummeled the engines with everything they had. The barrage triggered a series of explosions in the engines, which left the battleship a smoking mass that slowly descended towards the water.
“Tow ships! Drag that monstrosity to the water!” Sujay ordered. Dozens of tow ships rose from the surface, extended their cables and pulled on the lumbering battleship towards the lake.
The battleship descended into the water. The resulting wave crashed into the city against the crystal-colored skyscrapers. Most of the water flowed into the sewer systems and left only a slight trace on the streets. The remnants of Ivanov’s fleet retreated back to the heavens in search of reinforcements.
“We beat them,” Forrest said in a breathless whisper as he watched the Core fighters retreat.
The Alcyone squadrons touched down, and most of the fighter pilots howled and cheered from their victory. The pilots ran and hugged each other as they celebrated their victory over a Core embargo fleet. Forrest climbed out of his ship, walked over and hugged Sujay.
“Great job out there Starfleet Commander,” Forrest said to Sujay.
“Yes sir. I think your mother will reward me nicely for shooting down those three fighters that tried to take you down. Put some of my curry on her white rice,” Sujay replied with a grin.
Forrest burst out laughing. “Oh, you’re such a necrophiliac! You’re not the only one who likes to be stiff eh Sujay?”
“What?” Sujay asked.
“Uh, my mom’s gone you sicko. Six feet under.”
“Oh my goodness Forrest I’m so sorry! I didn’t know-”
“Just leave the jokes to me m’kay?”
“Fine,” Sujay replied. “And Forrest?”
“Yea buddy?” Forrest replied.
“Thanks for...thanks for saving me up there,” Sujay choked out.
“Yeah...there’s no way Ivanov was going to let you become Admiral,” Forrest replied.
“I could be Admiral!” Sujay snapped.
“Eeehhh,” Forrest replied. “I did most of the work up there and you were only a Starfleet Commander which is mostly an honorary title and...”
“Oh you son of a-” Sujay said.
“Mind if I cut in?” Riley said.
The two paused their argument and stared at Riley. He was covered in dust from the collapsed building. “Thank you to both of you for your help. Without you, this planet would belong to Ivanov and the other Admirals,” He said.
Riley’s armored guards stormed in, and seized the surviving Core officers as they crawled out of the water. “Where should we take them sir?” one of the men asked Riley.
“To the prison. We’ll prepare a ransom. Show the Core what happens when they trifle with me,” Riley said.
Forrest and Sujay exchanged a look. This wasn’t the Riley they were talking to a few days ago…
“And this one?” Another soldier asked, as he dragged a badly bruised Ivanov from the water. Ivanov stumbled out of the lake but the soldier kicked him behind the legs so that he kneeled before Riley.
“I’ve defeated you Ivanov,” Riley said.
“Yes, I can see that Riley. You won’t get anything by ransoming me. The Core doesn’t deal with terrorists,” Ivanov replied.
Riley drew his pistol and pointed it at Ivanov’s head.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Forrest said as he stepped between Riley and Ivanov. “I’m not one for saving the stereotypical Russian bad guy, but there are at least a dozen or more fleets the size of what we faced up there. The Core will surely retaliate Riley,” Forrest said.
“No they won’t Forrest. No one from the Core is coming,” Riley replied.
“Why not?” Forrest asked.
“Jesus, you really are dumb,” Ivanov said as he snorted and spat on the ground.
“What’s he talking about?” Forrest asked.
“The embargo is a ruse,” Ivanov said. “A ploy I used to get my agent here to surrender what is mine. I sent Riley here to infiltrate the Alcyone government, convince them to sell, and when they wouldn’t, he killed all who resisted. I made up the story of them not exporting water to provide cover. Except Riley here wanted a bigger finder’s fee for his troubles,” He explained.
“What? Riley is this true?” Forrest asked, his voice hurt.
“Of course it’s true!” Ivanov shouted. “Riley came to me to make a deal, start the rumors of an embargo, but turned all of his mercenaries against me and-”
Forrest and Sujay jumped when they heard the shot fired. Ivanov fell over, lifeless. Riley stood, holding the smoking pistol. All of the Core soldiers were in shock from the sight of their Admiral’s execution.
“What did you get us into…?” Sujay whispered to Forrest.
“I had no idea! I had no idea! I swear! How was I to know that Riley would go all ...violent!’” Forrest whispered back.
“What are you looking at Forrest?” Riley snapped as he turned and pointed his pistol at him.
“I...I don’t get it. That’s all. I mean...you hate the Core…” Forrest stuttered.
“The smuggling trade is on the verge of collapse Forrest and Ivanov made me the offer of a lifetime. All I had to do was instigate a little overthrow of the local government and-”
“In what Universe is that the right thing to do Riley? All those people you hurt and killed...there...there be some bad ju-ju for you!” Forrest hissed.
“So what? Once the Core pays me off, I’ll be one of the wealthiest men in the galaxy. And with the head off of the snake, they may be more willing to negotiate,” Riley said.
“You’re not going to get paid off you idiot!” Sujay screamed. “You’ll be lucky if those ships up there don’t turn this city into a fused ball of glass!”
“Not as long as I got you two here,” Riley said as he pointed his pistol at the duo. Riley’s mercenaries also raised their guns at Forrest and Sujay. Forrest looked into Riley’s eyes and witnessed the gaze of a man who’d gone mad with greed. There would never be enough credits to satisfy Riley’s lust for money.
Forrest and Sujay stood shoulder to shoulder, and were surrounded by heavily armed men itching to exercise their trigger fingers. Several ships descended along the edge of the sky until they came into view.
“What are they?” Riley grunted.
“Core ships sir,” One of the men replied.
“Ah, maybe they finally came to their senses-” Riley said right before the back of his head burst out in blood. Riley collapsed onto the ground, followed by an array of oppressive fire that was determined to eliminate his g
uard. One of the ships broke off and flew down to the ground. It was a freighter ship, not one used by the Core military.
“Oh sweet Vishnu, what now?” Sujay asked.
The ship touched down, and a black man who carried a briefcase walked off the ramp to the loading bay. He wore a gray suit and a black tie neither of which seemed to fit quite right. He adjusted his necktie twice before he made it off the ramp.
The man approached in a calm, confident stride. “Jack Forrest and Sujay Malak. You two gentlemen have a moment?” He asked. Several Core ships landed and soldiers burst out, who were determined to end Riley’s coup once and for all. Forrest and Sujay both gave a silent nod.
The man lead the two over to a nearby piece of building rubble, and motioned for Forrest and Sujay to sit down.
“Now, I’m sure that you don’t need to tell me that the both of you are royally screwed,” the man said. “But I also know that you weren’t part of Riley’s deal-gone-wrong here. Ivanov was every bit the greedy Admiral that Riley made him out to be, but his first mate is a stand-up guy who owes me a favor. He’s going to right this situation as best he can.”
“Are we going to die?” Forrest asked, a forced innocence wrapped within his question.
“Not if I can help it,” the man replied. “I’m here to make sure you live. Y’see boys, I know that the two of you are some of the best pilots in the galaxy. I also know that the two of you are in a very bad position both here and with the mob boss Kingsman. However, I’m really good at getting men out of bad positions.”
Forrest sniffed the air. It was a familiar scent. Rich and oily. It came from the man’s briefcase.
He noticed Forrest’s infernal sniffing. He opened the briefcase and pulled out a brown paper bag littered with grease spots.
“Brocker sends his regards,” the man said as he tossed the bag into Forrest’s lap.
Forrest’s jaw dropped and he shivered in delight as he plunged his hand into the bag and mowed down on the golden fries. He moaned in euphoria.
“I don’t know which is more gross those fries or the way you eat them,” Sujay said.
“Anyway,” the man said.“My name is Colonel John C. Henry and I’m building a team. I need some pilots as skilled as you two to fly my ship. As far as I see your options are-”
“Where do we sign?” The two asked at the same time.
--The End--
4
“Ooh!” The crowd screamed as Warrens stumbled from the hard left on the cheek. He grunted, and shook the blow off. He bounced on the edge of the ring made up of cheering men, and sought out the weaknesses in his opponent, Mac McGee. The men encircling the boxers hooted and hollered, the room an echo chamber of cheers for both Jackson Warrens and Mac. The two were the best boxers in what became known as the “Veterans League,” a social club created to help survivors of the Unification Wars adjust back into civilian life. Every Friday night the club met and held sparring matches to compete in. The testosterone-fueled match ups lured in the men of Beckwell Defense, which turned white collar veterans back into warriors.
Warrens studied his opponent, breaking down his moves. Mac may have been nothing more than a glorified brawler, but he was a hard hitter. He’d knock his opponents out quickly in the ring, a lesson Warrens learned the hard way when the two first sparred. He had never faced an opponent who hit so hard, but realized that Mac’s strength was his biggest weakness.
Warrens took the calculated risk and moved within Mac’s striking distance. He threw a hard left, which Warrens dodged. Warrens countered with a series of small jabs which rippled against Mac’s torso, but the indomitable Scotsman didn’t seem to notice. Mac went into overdrive by throwing his weight behind another left, but Warrens shoved himself away before the hit could land. Mac followed up with a right hook and a left uppercut, but he hit nothing but air. Warrens dived in and pummeled his opponent with another series of small jabs to the chest and torso. Mac shoved him away, and he used the break in battle to take a few deep breaths and steel himself for the next round.
Mac caught on to his strategy. He knew that he was slow compared to Warrens, but all he needed was distance and to land a hard blow in order to finish his opponent off. The room was filled with grunts from the two men as they sparred back and forth. The place reeked of sweat as it flew off of the boxers and onto the men in the crowd. The primal display drove them into a frenzy, and their cheers echoed across the halls of the building. Many of the men even placed wagers on the fight, the room evenly divided between who they rooted for.
Mac took a defensive stance as he closed in on Warrens. He held his hands clutched in front of his face, and was tired of Warrens’ surgical strikes that were wearing him out.
Warrens studied Mac as he approached him. The Scotsman’s body was drenched in sweat which betrayed the position of every gnarled muscles on his frame. He watched Mac’s lungs fill as he drew in precious air. He noticed his eyes growing weary and frustrated. Mac’s stance was off by only a degree, but his legs were too far apart, which leaked his secret of another charge. He saw that Mac was tired. Put together Mac revealed that he wanted the match to be over and given that the two boxing titans had fought for fifteen rounds, Warrens couldn’t blame him.
The men around the boxers roared and cheered, and their cries became deafening. Warrens was tired himself, but he kept to his disciplined regimen to rebuild his stamina. Warrens was obsessed with fitness and lived for the arena.
Mac shifted his legs and lowered his arms. Those knotted vines that he called muscle tensed up like coils. He was conserving his energy. His breathing had slowed, and he regained his composure.
If Warrens was going to win this fight, he needed to goad Mac into attacking, to get the infamous hard hitter to overextend himself so that he could defeat him.
Warrens charged in like a bull. He unleashed a flurry of blows on Mac, but the Scotsman had braced himself. He’d reversed the roles now, with Warrens expending energy while Mac waited for the right time to strike. Warrens launched a hard right, but Mac deflected the blow and delivered a hard right of his own into his opponent’s gut, which stunned him. Mac unleashed his own assault and his fists became battering rams as they struck Warrens in the gut.
Warrens stumbled backwards, while the men shouted for him to recover. Mac delivered a vicious left hook which sent Warrens reeling into the crowd. The men shoved him back into the ring, demanding that he fight back. He stumbled back, and could barely stand upright. The match seemed over.
Mac howled like an a barbarian and charged forward. He threw wild punches and sought to eliminate Warrens once and for all. Mac’s bullrush was the technique that brought Warrens down the first time, but he was determined not to let this be a repeat performance.
“Bullseye,” Warrens whispered to himself right as Mac got centimetres away from him.
Warrens ducked and threw a devastating uppercut onto Mac’s jaw.
“Ooooh!” The men in the crowd shouted as Mac stumbled backwards.
Warrens lunged forward and delivered a hard right directly to Mac’s solar plexus. The blow echoed loudly while the crowd gasped as they felt his pain. Warrens pivoted left, and dealt a hard left hook into Mac’s temple.
Mac stumbled backwards with his arms at his sides. Warrens closed in, unleashed a hard right to the gut, and drove home a left hook which knocked Mac to the ground. The referee dove in and counted as he struggled to get up. Between exhaustion and having the wind knocked out of him, he made two attempts to get up, but his arms gave out beneath him. Every man in the crowd leaned in.
“...Eight, Nine, Ten! Warrens wins!” The referee shouted as he seized and held his arm up, while the crowd went wild. Warrens had just handed Indomitable Mac his first defeat. The battle between the giants left both with a record of 12-1, which made them tied for the best in the ragtag league.
Mac crawled up off the floor, gasping for breath and drank his water as though he’d thirsted for years. The men around him slapped
him on the shoulder, and congratulated him on a good fight. Mac approached Warrens and held his hand out.
“Tidy fight in there laddie,” Mac said in his thick Scottish accent. “Thought you were a bit radge for gettin’ aggressive, but it was pure barry to lure me in like that.”
“You didn’t make it easy Mac. I need to fix myself up real good from all those blows you dealt me in the ring. You’re a real killer,” Warrens replied with his big, infectious grin.
Warrens held his arms up in triumph, then grabbed Mac’s wrist and held it up alongside his. The two titans relished in the cheers from the crowd as the referees shooed them out and readied the men for the next match.
Warrens threw his boxing gloves and hand towel into the locker. He picked up the special metal case that he’d had since he was a young boy which prominently displayed two pictures inside. One was his father Earl (Bud) Warrens in full uniform while in service to the Earth Core Army. The other was a picture of him as a baby with his mother Ruth and father, a family of three who couldn’t smile wide enough.
He thought back to when sat starry-eyed on the floor and his grandmother Gladys would read Bud’s transcriptions of his service during the “Skirmishes,” at a battle called Arasha Valley. The skirmishes were a series of battles triggered by the secession of the fringe planets in which Core forces were deployed to maintain peace and stability. The skirmishes led to what became known as the “Unification Wars,” but Bud never saw the war declared. He lost his life by throwing himself on top of an antimatter mine to save his platoon.
“That fool,” Gladys would always snap as she grasped his picture in between her delicate fingers.
“And your poor mother Jackson,” She always said. “I loved Ruth, but that dear girl fell apart after your father passed. The two of them were so deeply in love that I swear Shakespeare wrote Romeo and Juliet as a premonition of them. It was then that I was blessed to bring you into my home and raise you myself. While I do mourn the loss of your parents Jackson, I have been blessed with raising the Da Vinci of our time in my household.” She wiped away a stray tear from her eye.
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