Chapter 25: Passion and warfare
It was a long, painful night. If it wasn't for his presence, she didn't know how she could have endured it.
No... please stay. I can't bear the thought of being alone...
Her hand curled up in his, and despite the torment she bore, she could feel the tenderness in it's warmth, comforted in the midst of this crushing sorrow.
Just... remind me that you're here... don't let go, or I might fall forever, and never come back...
The many aspects of his form, alien, but pleasing... she drank it all in, finding strength and sanctuary from the darkness, and the heart of the man she could sense in it clearly, somehow.
Your scent... like a candle... I can tell how much you care... and it makes the pain bearable...
She laced her fingers with his, clutching his hand to her heart.
It hurts... it aches so much, to lose someone so dear to me... stay close to me, please... or I think I'll die too...
She clung to this presence desperately, feeling that if he ever left, she might not have the strength to go on.
Please... don't leave me, ever... I couldn't bear the thought of losing you too... how can I make it, without you there...?
He rose from her, but she could sense the reluctance, smell it in his scent; the care, the regret. The words were hard to form, but she begged him to stay, then chastised herself for the hurt she caused in his voice as he whispered an apology. There was a brush of fingers on her hair, her cheek. She caught her breath as he leaned close, his lips caressing her forehead, a warmth lingering where they touched. She desperately wanted to keep him there, but she couldn't move, couldn't do anything but cry as his presence left her, leaving her alone with the anguish that threatened to consume her.
Take me with you, please... hold me, like you did before... don't leave me...
Her eyes fluttered open, and she reached out to clutch for the hand that had been there, her heart twisting when there was nothing. She shook her head at herself, smirking as she thought, 'Wow... these dreams I'm having lately... though, how bittersweet it was. But... that fragrance...'
Her eyes sprang open as she realized it was Busby's. 'It's all over me--!' she thought in alarm, sitting up in confusion, wondering what had caused something so shocking to be. She clutched under her blanket, sighing in relief. 'Thank heaven, I'm still wearing my clothes--' But suddenly, nothing mattered. Her whole world collapsed, and she fell back to her bed as if stabbed in the belly, staring blankly at her ceiling as the terrible memories of the night came back to haunt her.
He's dead... Ratchet is gone...
'That's why my cheeks are moist, my pillow damp... I cried all night, didn't I?' She looked to her left, at the chair pulled up beside her bed, where Busby had sat through the night, trying to be a comfort when the pain threatened to overwhelm her. The sight of it went out of focus as tears welled up in her eyes once more. Her sense of duty reminded her that she was the Captain of the Phoenix and didn't have the luxury of mourning in bed all day. 'One cry... one good cry,' she promised herself as she buried her face in the pillow, pulling the chair against the bed, caressing the cushion and wishing he was still there.
She showered and dressed as quickly as she could, fighting the urge to collapse in tears once more, and hurried to the bridge. She was insanely late for duty, almost noon, and inexcusable for a ship's officer. 'What must they be thinking?' she fretted in humiliation.
Busby was doing his best to stay awake but failing miserably, beginning to nod off for the umpteenth time that morning when he nearly fell over from a startling shout: "Captain's on the bridge!" He jumped to his feet, the last one to come to attention, turning to face her, his heart twisting at the haggard expression on her face as he saluted her. "Morning, Captain. The Phoenix II is yours."
She forgot to drop the salute for a time, frozen in a moment of despair, her eyes locked in his. She wanted to collapse in his lap, get drunk until she threw up and her mind went black... anything, but this; carrying on as if nothing was wrong. He whispered to her, "Sasha... come on, or I'll start crying too."
She blinked in shock at that admission, saw the sympathy eating at him, dropped the salute and muttered, "Thank you, Busby." She brushed her hand against his as they swapped places, adding in a whisper, "I can't thank you enough." Busby flashed her a warm smile, then had to get down to business. He showed her the status report, indicating that they would be dropping from hyperspace and arriving at Polaris Access Port 16 within the hour. "Oh, Busby," she gasped, "you should have awakened me earlier."
"Hey, you were in bad shape, and exhausted. You needed sleep. The ship's doing fine. They really don't need us except to deal with port issues or combat. This really is a top notch crew."
"I know, Busby, but listen... no more coddling, okay? I have to be at my duty station, just like everyone else, even if... well, I am an emotional wreck." She had to face away from him as he visibly wilted at her admission, sorry that she had been so frank with him. "I'm no more special than... you are." She thought as their eyes met that, no, that was wrong; he was a very special man.
He swallowed, beginning to say, "Uh... well, I was hoping that maybe I, uh... could be..." He coughed self-consciously as he realized how that sounded, adding, "I mean, I could... really use a nap, after lunch."
After an initial eye-popping reaction, she chuckled in relief, patting his arm. "I think that could be arranged, Busby."
"I appreciate it. And, uhm... well... now that that's all over with, the ship's all yours," he told her, beckoning to the Captain's chair.
She hesitated before taking her seat as a few of the crew were eying her in wonder, and she did need to address this situation. She cleared her throat to get her voice working, though it wasn't very strong yet, and she had trouble finding words, clasping her hands together as the crew faced her. "Guys... listen up. Uhm... I'm sure you know by now that... word has come to me that Ratchet invaded a Cragmite stronghold, Zordoom Prison on Visceron, and... may have been..." She licked her lips, murmuring hollowly as she wiped her cheek, "Fatally wounded. We were rather close, and... I'm afraid I'm not dealing with this very well. I beg your forgiveness for my behavior, and ask that you bear with me. It'll be over with, soon, I promise you."
A murmur of understanding arose from the group, and she continued. "You also realize, of course, that I have ordered the Phoenix to invade Cragmite space in an incursion of planet Visceron. I must stress to you all that this is nothing less than an act of war. I assume all responsibility for this decision, but whatever comes of this action... we will either rescue Ratchet, or..." She choked back a sob, murmuring, "Bring back his remains... for proper burial." She took a breath to settle herself, wiping at her eye and sweeping the room with her gaze. "I know this is reckless, and... smacks of abuse of power for personal issues, but... after what Ratchet has done for the people of three galaxies, I believe we owe him at least this much... to bring him home where he belongs." To her surprise, she saw in the eyes of her crew the look of a committed team, supporting her, and in particular, in the gaze of her Number One. Squeezing her hands to keep them still, she concluded, "I'm going to formulate invasion plans with the ranking officers of the Phoenix and Brigade One-nineteen. I know that... with your help and support, there's no way we're going to fail. Now... carry on with your duties, and continue to make me proud of you."
She took her seat, wiping her cheek again as she struggled with the emotions stirred up afresh from her speech. Busby summoned his chair to her side with a remote, saying to her quietly, "Now I know why you scored so high in Oratory at the Academy. You always manage to find something encouraging to say."
"Oh, Busby," she murmured with a blush, "that was one of my worst speeches ever."
"Well then, your scores don't do you justice. And the crew liked it, and that's what counts," he insisted.
She looked into his eyes as something occurred to her. "You've been reading up on me."
"Well..." he shrugged self-consciously, "yeah. I mean... I like to know who my Captain is."
A thin smile began to spread across her lips as she returned his gaze, saying, "Well, to be honest, I've read up on you too, because... I like to know who I can rely on." The pause grew long as she forgot to mention her point, and looked aside with a cough. "And, uhm... I know you happen to be a strategist, so I hope you'll tell me that you've been working on something for me."
"Oh, you bet," he began excitedly. "At least... in between little cat naps." She had to giggle at the thought that he had been napping on duty, and in full view of the crew! Somehow, he had a way of cheering her up, even if briefly, and she admired this wacky, geeky gentleman as he pulled out his tablet to go over the outline of his invasion plan. They found themselves gazing into each others eyes again after a few moments, Busby studying her face, and she was content to let him as he had pretty hazel eyes. He asked her softly, "Hey... how do you feel?"
She couldn't keep from slumping a bit, nor could she keep from replying honestly. "Like... being punched in the stomach." She closed her eyes as he placed his hand over hers, thinking of how he had undoubtedly exhausted himself at her side through the night, stroking his fingers with her thumb. She felt embarrassed over what must have slipped out in her half awake, distraught condition, but at the same time... not. "Busby..." she said faintly, "thank you for... spending that time with me. You are... just... the most surprising... individual I've ever had the good fortune to know. I'm very, very lucky to have you as my First."
He looked down with a sheepish grin, blushing as he said, "Well... it's nice to know I'm such an individual. But you haven't seen anything 'til I've done my card tricks."
She blurted out a little laugh, amazed at that uncanny knack he had for making innocuous words the funniest things she'd ever heard, even in this bleak time. Reluctantly, she pulled her hand from his, as they were visible to much of the bridge crew, and she had probably indulged herself a bit too much in his attention. "Well... we'd... better get on with this. I don't think the Cragmites will grant us any extra time to work on an advantage to blast them with."
"Yeah, that's true," he muttered, trying not to sound disappointed. After all, it had been some time since he'd been able to impress a pretty girl, and this one was beginning to mean a lot to him.
The Phoenix II flashed out of the hyperspace wormhole, slowing as it approached Access Port Sixteen, or Strait Sixteen as it was sometimes called from surface shipping terms. All vessels legally entering the galaxies of the clusters had to be admitted by the Galactic Authority, especially if they were military ships. With the threat of open war from the Cragmite Empire, the broad Naval corridors of A.P. 16 were devoid of traffic, and had been for weeks. Commodore Shappley had no chance to be bored, as he scanned reports of Cragmite activity filtering in, though he hated being stuck at such a remote outpost. Something caught his eye and he muttered, "Now... why are there signs of action around Visceron? That's mostly a prison world--"
"Sir?" interrupted his helmsman. "We have a vessel inbound... the CHC-117, UFS Phoenix II of the Solana Navy."
At first the Commodore was excited, thinking that support from the other galaxies was finally coming, or perhaps even a rare chance it was the Alliance. But as he watched the main display, he blinked in confusion. "That's it? One blasted ship?!"
"Uhh... that's all I have, sir," the helmsman reported.
The Commodore was incredulous. "That is a bloody big vessel, but still... what the devil are they thinking!"
"Captain? I have the commander of the CHC-98, RCS Unfazed," Lieutenant Chatterly informed her. "On the main screen."
Sasha thanked her, standing to face the display as the image of the Resistance commander came into view. "Commodore Shappley, this is Captain Sasha Phyronyx of the CHC-117, UFS Phoenix II of the Solana Navy, and I humbly request the hospitality of your space and ports." She finished with a dignified bow, but froze when the sound of an irate snort came over the speakers. She stood quickly, seeing a commander that indeed wasn't happy as her brow knit in concern. "Is there a problem with my request?"
"Is there a problem..." the Commodore growled. "The Polaris Galaxy is on the brink of open war! And this is the best the fleets of our neighbors can muster up? One heavy cruiser?! Don't insult us!"
Sasha pressed her lips worriedly as she wracked her brain for a diplomatic solution. "Commodore, I understand your disappointment, but my mission is completely independent from the Solana Navy. Any large fleet movements by any group would be reckless--"
"And what do you call one lone commander wanting to go gallivanting around in our galaxy with tensions as high as they are!" he interrupted. "A maverick vessel running loose in this environment is a disaster in search of an incident to trigger it! Go back and play Navy in your own galaxy! Return when Solana is serious about helping us, with an actual Fleet next time!"
"But Commodore," she protested, "something is going on in your galaxy which is responsible for the trouble you're in, and far more besides! If you would just allow--"
"Request denied, Captain!" he snapped. "Do I have to resort to force to get your attention?!"
She feared this reaction, closing her eyes with an exasperated gasp as she sat in her chair, murmuring, "I really... seriously don't need this right now." Then something occurred to her, and she said quietly as she drew up her keyboard, "Mister Mimo... do you remember how the lights gave us problems back at the dock? I want you to fire them up."
He blinked as he realized what she was driving at, as did most of the bridge crew, looking to his display as she typed to him, 9 seconds, then jump. "Uhh.. full power, ma'am?"
Her eyes focused sharply forward as she murmured to the Helmsman, "Affirmative, Mister Mimo."
Not liking what he was witnessing on his monitor, the Commodore asked meaningfully, "Captain, are you going to comply with my decision?"
Helmut Warhelm was a little slow, but it was hard to miss the drama simmering on the bridge, beginning to worry as the others braced themselves. "Err... is there szomething you vould like to tell your beloved Security Offisah?" he asked with a raised finger.
"Not now, Helmut," she grumbled, adding quietly as the First Officer came to her side, "Hold on, Busby."
He looked out the front viewport at the starship opposite, and how it was directly in front of them. "Uhh... are you about to do what I think you're about to do?"
"Now!" Sasha cried, gripping her chair as a dull roar rumbled throughout the deck and the ship lurched forward.
"I guess so!" Busby grabbed onto her chair as he planted his feet behind him, saying nervously in her ear as the starship in front of them grew larger, "Did I mention that I have a mortal fear of ship ramming?!"
The artificial gravity afforded a good deal of inertial damping, but it couldn't completely erase the rules of physics, and all through the ship, everything not bolted down began to slide towards the rear. The arts and crafts club was particularly hard hit. In the kitchen, Chef Sven's eyes opened in alarm as the large mixing machine came out of its moorings and began rolling to the back of the room. He threw himself behind it as the others gaped in shock, holding on and fighting a losing battle to stop the machine, crying frantically, "Der mashed taters... der mashed taters!" Finally the wall of the kitchen stopped them both, though not the creamy mixture as much of it sloshed out of the huge bowl, coating him and the wall with the starchy mess. Coughing it out of his throat and nose, he muttered sourly, "Well, fargin' poo gas... needs salt too..."
"The bloody fool!" the commander exclaimed as he watched the Phoenix accelerate right towards him, crying, "Ramming alert!" as the red lights began to flash in warning all through the ship. As the helmsman shouted the alert over the intercom, the Commodore watched in disbelief as the alien cruiser raced onward. "What is she trying to prove!"
Sasha watched nervously as her own helmsman made some last second adjustments, noticing that the Unfazed was coming up uncomfortably fast, and moments from impact. "Dakkar, pull hard to starboard if you aren't ready--!"
"Got it!" he shouted as a glare surrounded the vessel.
Just as it seemed that the Phoenix was going to collide with his ship, the Commodore throwing his arms in front of his face in reflex, a blaze of hyper-energy flared in front of him. He looked up in shock, swearing that, for an instant, he saw the ghostly bridge of the Phoenix II and its crew all around him, and square in front of him, the Captain with a determined look on her face. He fell back in his seat in astonishment, gasping, "That is... the most reckless... outrageous... insane... gutsy move I have seen in my entire life!" Realizing that the alarms were still sounding, he shouted, "Cancel the alert!"
When he could speak again, the First Officer asked, "We are going to report this, aren't we?"
"Yes..." the Commodore drawled, adding as the First turned began to type something up at his console, "Wait! I'll file a report presently... I have to consider this carefully, though..."
The First Officer was puzzled. "Why wouldn't you file this immediately, sir?"
"Because something is up. If I just now file something standard about a renegade cruiser in our space, it may cause a disturbance that might jeopardize what the Captain is pursuing." Commodore Shappley rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he consulted a file. "This Captain, Phyronyx, is the one who was instrumental in defeating both an invasion by Tyhrranoids, and a genocidal plot by some villainous robot going by the name of Doctor Nefarious. Retiring for a few years, something caused her to re-enter the service, and it had to be rather significant. And then there was what she said..." He motioned to the Communications Officer. "Replay that transmission. I'll control it from here."
He watched as the Cazar gazed out of the screen with an urgent expression on her face. "Commodore, I understand your disappointment, but my mission is completely independent from the Solana Navy. Any large fleet movements by any group would be reckless--"
His voice interrupted, "And what do you call one lone commander wanting to--!" He jumped ahead to her next remarks.
"But Commodore," she insisted, "something is going on in your galaxy which is responsible for the trouble you're in, and far more besides! If you would just allow--"
He stopped the replay, frowning in consternation. "A threat... other than the Cragmites?"
"Can we take that seriously, sir?" the First asked him.
"Yes... I think so. What it means is... well, anyone's guess at this point. I do have to wonder just what in hell that woman hopes to accomplish. If only she had said something more definite..." He cast a glance over his shoulder, as if to see what was going on in the galaxy behind them. "We'll just have to trust that the Captain knows what she's doing."
'Do I even know what I'm doing anymore?' she asked herself rhetorically.
In the hours prior to an invasion, Navy spacemen worked off their stress in their own way. In Sasha's case, she went to the gym, joining some of the other crew members as they relieved their nervous tension. Sasha was jogging around the track which circled the facility in violet shorts and t-shirt, her mind swimming with a multitude of thoughts, though they were swept away each time she passed Busby, working out on a weight machine.
Somehow, he always found a way to inject humor into the most glum, boring situation, and the post-jump report at the invasion planning meeting was no exception. "Well, the chess club is in pieces, the rec room's a wreck, and the mess hall is a--"
"No, Busby, please!" she laughed with the other officers, the first time she had done so in a good long while. It felt good to laugh again, and his presence was like a lamp in a stormy night.
She smiled at the memory as she made another circuit, watching as he thrust his legs into a bench press, eying the bare muscles of his slender legs. He was surprisingly well muscled for such an average build, she noticed. 'And... I really need to stop doing that,' she muttered to herself, but it was hard, incredibly hard.
She was a very independent girl, proudly so, except when it came to mortal tragedies. When her mother passed away, she clung desperately to her father in the depths of her anguish. Unfortunately, he was busy with his career in the Marcadian Council and couldn't always be there for her, making her seize onto him all the more fiercely when he was, resenting him bitterly for a while when he wasn't. Death hit her very hard in her young adult years, making her question her life in the Navy on occasion. So far, she had remained level headed for the most part at the loss of a crewman, though she did take the responsibility very personally. But this... the one person she couldn't bear to lose other than her father... the one who promised that he would come back to her... the one she loved dearly... the pain of this loss threatened to break her.
She began crying again, but at least on the track, she could and no one would know. It was as much from frustration as pain. She needed time to mourn. She needed to be free of the burdens of her authority. She needed desperately to be in his arms, and she was afraid that it was getting out of hand. He was noticing her each time she passed him. She could feel his eyes on her, admiring her, and it was strange, but she wanted him to. Just as she was admiring him. She felt foolish, confused, and angry at herself. It was stupid, as stupid as could be, and insulting to the memory of Ratchet. 'I have to stop this, before it gets any further,' she scolded herself. 'I don't think of him like... that.'
But what do you think of him as? And how can you blame him if he does think of you like "that"?
She didn't have an answer for those questions, but she did have anger, fear and frustration at being stuck in an intolerable situation. 'What can I do? I can't handle this sorrow alone... and the one person I can turn to... perhaps I shouldn't... oh, I hate this!' Her mind rebelled under a wave of despair, the world melting away in tears as her legs gave out from under her and she fell. She reflected dimly on her father as she lay there sobbing, usually so strong, but at that terrible dark time that fell on them both, how he would sometimes drink himself unconscious. 'Father... what's wrong with us? How can we be so strong in so many ways... but in this, so weak? It's not fair... so unfair...'
He was there like a knight in shining armor, blurred by her tears, extending his hand to help her up, and her heart melted in gratitude. "Oh, Busby... thank--"
But something was wrong... it wasn't his hand, or his scent, and the voice of someone else spoke to her. "Uhh... sorry ma'am, it's not Mister Birdwell." Wiping her tears away, she saw that it was Lieutenant Tesla's second, Leftenant Pulverizer. Busby was behind him, gazing at her in concern, perhaps something more, and suddenly it was all too much.
She had to get away, saying quietly as she looked about the small crowd which gathered around her, "Thh... thank you, Mister Pulverizer. I'm fine, really... just... fell. I... really should go, I have way too much to do." Her heart wilted at the expression on Busby's face, but she was afraid of what might happen in this emotional state if she stayed. She hastened to the women's locker room to grab her things, bolted from it as if chased by demons, ignoring everyone she raced by, and didn't slow down until she was securely locked in her quarters. She dropped her bag and threw herself on her bed, burying her face in her pillow, and wept almost hysterically. 'This is what I should have done to start with,' she realized. 'A good, hard, cathartic cry...' But still, she ached to have him there, so that this dreadful anguish wasn't her only companion.
'Oh, Ratchet... where are you? What are you going through right now? And how in the world am I going to get through this awful time...?'
Busby hesitated outside her door, his finger poised over the call button, but he could hear her faintly through the door and turned away sadly. 'I guess... I did this to you, didn't I? Why else would you run from me like that? I'm sorry, Sash - Captain...'
Talwyn ate a quick meal of survival chow as the ship sailed down the glowing passage transgressing time and space. She was at least over her tears now, though a gnawing fear and loathing ate at her as they approached the end of the wormhole, and the world where Ratchet was. She wished that she could have waited for Sasha, maybe made a call to Angela to see what she was doing, but she couldn't have endured it, not another moment of just sitting and waiting. In particular, Sasha was two whole galaxies away, and had to deal with the rules of her Navy. Who knew how long that would take? And she needed to get to Ratchet quickly, if for no other reason than to claim his body. What a dreadful thought...
Her instruments told her that arrival was less than a half hour away. "Guys," she began, looking over her shoulder to the two old warbots, but saw that they were asleep, conserving energy for the battle to come. She briefly resented them doing this to her, but she knew that's just what robots did. Watching them for a moment, leaning against each other, she reflected on how devoted they were to her, and how much she loved them. "You guys are the biggest, coolest link to my father," she sighed, reaching into her pouch to rub a cone of ivory. "Please, Fang... don't let them die. I couldn't stand to lose them too..."
It was a miserable shower, a miserable half-eaten meal, and a miserable time at her seat on the bridge. Busby was distinctly quiet around her, making them both feel uncomfortable, but she couldn't bring herself to speak with him out in the open as they were. And with the invasion of Visceron looming, she wouldn't have a chance for privacy with him until afterwards, which might be some time. She wanted to talk badly, to clear away any misconceptions, but they were both at the mercy of the mission schedule, sweeping them relentlessly forward. Her stomach churned bitterly as the Phoenix emerged on the far end of the planetary system which had claimed the life of the one she loved.
As Mister Mimo maneuvered them through an asteroid belt to a point where they might be able to discreetly monitor the planet, the crew made ready for the first step in Busby's plan. "Okay people, it's showtime," Sasha declared, looking to the display in front of her, in which several crewmen were preparing a special robot for deployment. "Scout, are you ready?"
It was a rocket, specially designed for spying and deception, and it winked a light at her. "Yes ma'am, I'm good to go."
"Okay, get him deployed," she ordered, crossing her fingers. "And godspeed."
They fired him off towards Visceron, though he made a strategic stop behind Barros, generating the signature of an attack ship using countermeasures. He fired a small missile which streaked on ahead, scanning and relaying data on the forces around Visceron, intent on reaching the Prison compound itself if possible. "Are you guys gettin' all this?" he whispered; not that it really made a difference, but he was caught up in the excitement of the mission.
"Yes," she replied with a nod. "Busby, you were right... a nuclear missile carrier supported by six squadrons of Imperial Cruisers. Quite a mission group, just to safeguard a prison."
"Cragmite battle philosophy was my minor at the Academy," he said proudly from his station. "And they always overreact after a defeat, especially if it's from a Lomba--" He cut himself off too late, and as they looked to each other, he murmured, "I'm sorry, Sash... Captain."
She winced in consternation, muttering as she took a breath to settle her nervous stomach, "Never mind, Busby... it's all right." She looked to him in wonder of his change in attitude. 'Now he won't even say my name?'
"Ah oh..." It was Scout.
Sasha looked up sharply at the display. "What, what is it?"
"A ship just came out of aich jay," he reported quietly. "I thought it might'a been a prisoner transport, but it's too small. It pings as... a civilian ship, the Odyssey Beta, and she's smack in the middle of that mission group."
"Oh my God," Sasha gasped, "Talwyn!"
The girl looked around her, blinking in shock, as she found herself surrounded by what looked to be an entire Cragmite fleet. "Guys!" she yelled as she gunned the engines. "We got company!" She looked to her console as a Cragmite began growling in his distasteful language at her, translated at the bottom. "Yield, puny alien food, at my bloated and admirable self! Devouring will not be an option as you extend the proper appendage!"
"I'll extend something at you, all right!" she growled as the two warbots came to either side of her seat.
"Holy molex!" they shouted. Cronk looked to Zephyr, asking, "How many bolts do you have? Maybe we can bribe our way out."
"I don't think bribery is an option!" Talwyn cried as weapon fire began erupting around them, then blinked as another screen popped open with a familiar face. "Sasha?! How--!"
"Talwyn, get out of there as fast as you can!" she exclaimed. On the bridge behind her, sirens and red lights indicated the call to battle stations. "We'll attack them, but we can't until you're safely out of the area!"
"Working on it," she growled as she tried to put some distance between herself and a group of Cruisers beginning to pursue her. "Cronk, man that turret!" But then a frightening thought hit her as the warbot squirmed into the tight quarters of the turret controls. "Ohmygod... Sasha, your warning... you gave away your position!"
"I know hon, but--" She stopped short as there were flashes outside of the ship, followed a second later by the sound of countless objects banging into the hull, jarring the entire vessel. The lights dimmed briefly, and through the front viewport, they could see a cloud of rocks shooting past.
Busby checked his scanners, shouting, "What the heck... they put explosives in the asteroids! It's a huge remote controlled minefield!"
"Mimo, get us out of here and into that battle!" Sasha screamed in frustration. "Okay everyone, Hail Mary! And Busby, jam any more trigger signals! Sneaky bastards... if you want a fight, you got it!"
He gaped at her in both shock and admiration as a series of rumbles from missile fire vibrated through the ship. It was one thing to read about a legendary commander's performance, it was another to see it in action up close. He bore a thin smile as he turned back to his console, murmuring, "Combat seems to be just what the doctor ordered."
"Mister Boil!" she called to the Weapons Officer. "What's the range to that battle group!"
"Uhh..." He checked his reading, centered on the enemy missile carrier. "About three light minutes yet, ma'am. Looks like we'll arrive there in twenty minutes."
It was too far to safely use the particle cannons. "All right, lock onto that damned missile carrier and give it a big salvo--!" she began. Then everyone gasped as there was a solid collision against the ship and half the systems went down, including most of the lights. "Busby! Redirect power to essential systems!" Sasha ordered in the dimness. "On the double!"
"Yes ma'am!" he replied, looking over the system grid for all the unessential operations. "I hope no one's in the showers because hot water's going down." He noticed Chief Engineer Tesla helping out from the engine room, although the rerouting stopped just then, and his heart sank. "Oh, crap... I hope that's not a bad thing..."
She called up an integrity assessment on her chair display, seeing that the Engineering Section had taken a punishing hit. "Oh, please," she murmured, "no casualties..."
The hull had buckled from a serious asteroid impact, and a row of the main transformers was pushed sideways, a massive power cable sparking at a junction overhead and threatening to come loose. Tesla shouted to the crewmen cowering to the side, "Get out of the way now! Electrical crew, get on that cable--!" Everyone scattered as it finally gave way, though an unlucky pair directly below it dropped to the floor with a cry. The Engineer froze in horror as one of them was Pulverizer, unable to do more than watch as the cable threatened to sweep across his body, sparking with lethal current. Suddenly it stopped, and he watched in relief as it was grabbed by one of the robots, lifted back towards the junction by his thruster.
"Status, people!" Sasha called to the bridge crew, and in order, the assessments came in. Defenses 35%, weapons systems 25%, main computer zero, scanners 30%, life support 80%, engines 99%. "Great, we can fly all over the universe blind and defenseless! Mister Tesla!" Sasha called over the intercom. "This ship is crippled! We need that power back on line immediately, or we might not be going home!"
The Engineer fell back to his console, continuing to redirect power resources, as he wasn't sure how long this would take. "Uhh, aye Captain, we're seeing to it presently!"
"A number of weapons systems are still down!" she exclaimed. "I need it right this second!"
The robot looked down to the crew still getting organized, and at his friend Frank Pulverizer, having just got to know him. "I have but one existence to give for my galaxy..." he sighed resignedly, shoving one hand into the deadly cable and grabbing a thick strand, reaching across towards the junction unit with the other. Everyone looked up as sparks flew, and an angry buzz filled the chamber as a massive charge of electricity surged through the body of the frazzled robot to the conduit, feeding the rest of the ship its life giving power.
"No!" Pulverizer shouted. "Roby! Dude... no!"
"Yes!" Sasha cried in jubilation as the lights flickered on. "Thank you, Mick, you saved our lives!"
"I'd... love to take the credit, Captain, but you owe it to your crew," he muttered, "one in particular." Cutting off the intercom at his end, he yelled, "All right, get him outta there and a cable spliced in!"
She didn't have time to note the irony in the Chief's voice, returning her attention back to the battle. As she was about to direct the Weapons Officer to launch an attack, he interrupted her, pointing to the main screen. "Ma'am, we got problems."
She looked up in shock as it looked like hundreds of missiles were streaking towards them. Making a quick estimate, she saw there was still time to act. "Okay... launch that salvo, Peter! Coordinate missile defense with Busby! Hit them with blasters and interceptors! Use E, H, L and M countermeasures--!"
"F, L, M and Que!" came a strongly accented voice from the front of the bridge. Raoul was on the main screen, having rebooted and generated a head for himself. He said in explanation, "Zey're missyles are opgraded, mon Capitain!"
"Fine," she decided, "you three sort out defense!" She turned her attention back to Talwyn's message, shouting, "Talwyn, get out of there immediately!"
She was frustrated at being unable to shake the Cruisers on her tail, but replied, "Hold on, they're not landing a shot on me!"
Zephyr informed her, "Miss Talwyn, they're just toying with us, that's all."
"Thanks a lot, Zephyr!" she growled. "That's not bolstering our self-confidence here!"
"Talwyn, hon, just go! There are nukes headed your way!" Sasha cried.
"But... what about Ratchet!" she shouted back.
Sasha was growing frantic at the girl's belligerence. "Talwyn, honey, those are Cragmites! You don't want to fall into their clutches! And you don't want to be anywhere nearby when those warheads go off! Just leave! Jump out and we'll rendezvous later when it's safe! Please! If you get killed, I don't know what I'll do!"
She stared at the screen for a torn moment, jarred back to reality when a blast rang off her wing. Zephyr blurted out after a string of garbled syllables, "Miss Talwyn, you really should listen to her!"
"Okay, okay!" she cried. "But we're hooking up right after this to rescue Ratchet, right?!" She gave a cry of alarm as blaster fire began scoring hits on her ship. "Cronk, are you hitting anything?!"
"Yeah," he called back, "but mostly, I think I'm makin' 'em mad."
Sasha's stomach tied itself in a knot. "She might not make it anyway... Mister Boil!" she exclaimed. "Fire small yields at those Cruisers in pursuit of the Odyssey Beta! And make damned sure you don't tag that civilian! That's an Apogee in that ship!"
"Will do, ma'am," he replied.
Sasha sat on the edge of her seat, her fists clenched, murmuring, "There's too much happening at once... damn this stupid fuster cluck." Somewhere above the Phoenix there was a dazzling glare, followed seconds later by a shockwave that roared through the body of the vessel. One of the Cragmite warheads had made it through their defenses, but detonated on a phantom ship generated by the countermeasures. "Oh, my God..." she gasped, "that was too close..."
"Hit... direct hit on the carrier!" the Weapons Officer cried, and a shout of jubilation swept through the crew as the enemy ship broke apart.
"Thank heaven," Sasha murmured, "that's one major problem out of the way. But... what about Talwyn!" She looked to the tactical display on the main screen, seeing the Cruisers dogging the small civilian explorer, the missiles closing in on them. She crossed her fingers, watching anxiously. One by one, the salvo homed in on their targets, and gradually, the Cruisers were destroyed or disabled... except for the one in the lead. She gasped as there was a flare of light and her ship was gone, heaving a tremendous sigh of relief as it was just the hyperdrive signature. "Surely... they can't know where she's headed..." the Cazar whispered, as if in prayer.
Tachyon has been watching this battle in disgust, but as Talwyn made her escape, he eyed the small vessel closely as it winked out of this universe. "I wonder... where..." he began, thinking through recent events. "Order that incredibly lucky crew in pursuit to jump to Odum."
Talwyn resented being pushed off like that, muttering as the ship plunged down the wormhole, "I'm tired of everyone thinking I'm just a little girl!" She looked up with a blink at the sound of continuing turret fire, exclaiming, "Cronk? What the hell are you shooting at!"
He descended from the turret controls, muttering, "Just... takin' a little target practice..."
"At the inside of a wormhole?" she muttered with a smirk as he came to stand sheepishly beside his fellow warbot.
Zephyr floundered through a few syllables as he usually did at the start of a speech. "Miss Talwyn, we don't doubt you at all. Not for a second, no ma'am!"
"But I don't think the Cragymites were too impressed with you..." Cronk added. "This time, or when you were captured before."
Talwyn gripped the controls sourly. "Guys, come on... you don't have to remind me of every time I flopped. Besides, the first time it was Drophyds."
She sighed as the warbots looked away, Zephyr offering weakly, "W-well... we were just sayin'..."
"I know... it just smarts to be told to go away." She added with a mutter, "Especially by a rival... even if she is right..." She felt a little better as the ship emerged in the normal space near Odum. "At least I can do something worthwhile here, and see if I can get a clue as to what Ratchet was up to." She added feebly, "And Ratchet... you'd better still be up to something..."
They all looked up in shock to see blaster fire streaking past them. Talwyn checked her sensors to find at least one Cruiser closing on them from the rear, exclaiming, "What the... there's no way!" She looked over her shoulder to see Cronk already struggling to get back into the turret compartment. "Please hit something vital this time!" She eyed the communicator in the console, knowing she would need help.
"Damn it! Stupid shield is slowin' me down! I knew it would!" the feloid cried as he checked his performance readout. "Uhh... one percent isn't a lot, is it?"
"Uhm... I dunno. I don't think so..." Crunch replied over the radio as he joined his companion off the right wing. "But dude, I think Ratchet was right. It was gettin' pricey payin' off the Port Boss, and he was cuttin' less slack each inspection. Besides, comin' back to port was gettin' kinda scary."
He scowled at the fellow racer, hating to be reminded of his own re-entry fears. "Hey, it just... adds a thrill to speed runs, ya know?"
"Yeah, but I don't need that kinda... yeow!"
Slab blinked in shock at his friend's outcry, looking around. "Dude, what is - crap!" he exclaimed as streaks of light just missed him, coming from some unseen source among the stars.
As they separated to avoid the weapons fire streaking past, a call came over the communicator. "Mayday, mayday! This is Talwyn Apogee in the Odyssey Beta! I have a Cragmite Cruiser on my tail! Any ships in the Odum area, I need assistance right now!"
"This is Port Captain Shlufski," the Boss replied. "If ya manage to make atmosphere, the Cruiser shouldn't follow. I'm afraid that, because of our worthless politicians, we have no naval vessels to come to your aid."
"Oh, I can't freaking believe this... I may not make Odum at this rate!" she cried.
"Babe, you said the wrong word," Slab sent to her. "Ain't no one around here gonna come take on a Cragmite ship." He hesitated for half a beat, thinking of how Ratchet would probably face off against the Cruiser with just a wrench if he had to. Besides... she sounded pretty. "But we will, hold on!"
"Who're you calling babe!" Talwyn shouted.
"We will?!" Crunch exclaimed.
"Sure! Squeeze play!" he shouted as the explorer raced past, the Imperial Cruiser coming up from the rear. "You take the front."
"Do I have to?"
"Yes, you have to! Come on! This is our big chance to show we're worth somethin'!" Slab replied as he looped over to pursue the Cruiser from the rear.
"Uh... no offense or anything, but you two sound like a couple of racer punks," Talwyn called to them. "Like... what's wrong with your communicators? Why don't you have a video feed?"
Slab replied hesitantly, "It, uhh... kinda broke."
"Broke?! You mean you can't even maintain--!" She cringed as blaster fire crashed against the roof. "No thanks! I'll see if I can manage! I don't need you two scrap heads running into each other trying to impress me!"
"Sorry babe," he replied, "not an option! Crunch, arm your torpedo!"
"Torpedo?!" Talwyn said in disbelief. "And stop calling me babe!"
The two starspeeders were converted fighter ships, and Slab found to his amazement that it still had a working targeting system, which he used to practice garbage bombing on asteroids. They used old auxiliary fuel tanks loaded with explosives and spare fuel to deter police who frowned on their racing runs. The explosions they caused were spectacular, and Slab was sure they were spectacular enough to cause some damage to an Imperial Cruiser. "I'm tired o' you fish heads pushin' us around anyway," he grumbled as he activated the targeting system, thumping the console a couple of times to bring it up, and racing ahead a bit to start a dive from the side.
"They aren't fish heads, brain trust, not this time--" Talwyn winced as energy beams glanced off of the fuselage beside the cockpit. "They're Cragmites!"
"What's the difference?" Slab responded haughtily. "I bet they both sizzle the same when they fry up."
"I can't believe this... they're gonna try it!" Talwyn called back to Cronk, "Watch out for those two idiots! Don't help them kill themselves!" She instinctively ducked as a pair of bolts struck the rear of the fuselage. "But... if they're gonna do something, it would be nice if they'd hurry the hell up..."
The two Cragmites in the cockpit of the Cruiser were having a jolly time toying with the explorer. Another one came from behind, pointing out the viewshield to the side at the distant exhaust of a starspeeder. The pilot glanced at it for a moment, waving in dismissal with a sound like an angry belch.
"Heh! Ignore us at your peril, sushi bait!" Slab cried as the release calculator showed an impact in the middle of the vessel's back. "Torpedoes away!" It was only one and a bomb if anything, but it was a fairly good sized fuel tank, and armored to withstand re-entry. He watched as it began to spiral, threatening to tumble. "Naw, come on now... straighten up!" he shouted, as if it would respond to his command. Amazingly, it seemed to, tightening the spiral along its axis. The two Cragmites tormenting Talwyn stopped in mid-taunt when a collision alarm began to sound. They looked over their shoulders, just able to see the black fuel tank spinning towards their ship, watching in fascination as it buried itself in the hull just forward of the engines, then looked to each other in perplexion.
Slab wasn't amused, growling, "Aw, come on! That was a perfect hit, you freakin'--!" He was caught off guard as it exploded, pulling away to avoid the fire and debris erupting from the vessel. "Woah! Now that's more like it! Finish 'er off, Crunch!"
"Hey, this is actually workin'!" his friend shouted. "Bombs away!"
"It is?!" Talwyn looked to the rear view incredulously as the enemy fire halted. "Wha... I can't believe it!"
The Cragmites were outraged at the attack crippling their ship, ranting to each other, until they looked up to see the other starspeeder shoot past, then at an object streaking straight at the cockpit, hugging each other's rubbery bodies in terror. The streamlined tank smashed right through the viewshield and kept going, detonating in the rear of the cabin, fire streaming from the dying warship. The transmission rang with triumphant laughter from the two racers, Slab shouting, "Fives, high 'n low!"
Talwyn closed her eyes, shaking her head with an exhausted chuckle as the Cruiser veered away aimlessly, fire spreading through the ship until it finally exploded. "Wow... of all the nail biters..." She keyed the communicator, beginning saucily, "All right you two hot shots, don't break your arms patting yourselves on the back or anything, but... thanks. We owe you our lives."
"Hey..." Crunch asked hesitantly, hoping for another female, "so... there's more'n one of you?"
"Three to be exact!" declared Zephyr crustily as his fellow landed on his head from the difficulty of his extraction from the turret control. The feloid gasped as the old warbot continued, "Along with this lovely - and spoken for - young lady, you have the legendary Commanders Zephyr and Cronk."
"I prefer Cronk and Zephyr," the other muttered, causing Zephyr to look up at him sharply.
Talwyn restrained a chuckle. "So, who do I owe my thanks to?"
"Well... us!" Before Talwyn could retort tiredly, the feloid exclaimed, "Slab!"
"And Crunch," the other added less enthusiastically, knowing his older, more aggressive partner would pounce on the chance to impress what sounded like a very cute girl.
Talwyn shook her head, mouthing their names in silent sarcasm as their starspeeders formed up on either side of her ship. "Well, guys, thanks again, but I think I can handle it from here--"
"Oh, you gotta be kiddin me!" Slab blurted out. "Yer ship is all shot up, babe!"
"Don't call me that," she snapped back. "You can call me Talwyn."
"Miss Talwyn," Cronk added decisively.
"Uhh... sorry ba - uh, Talwyn," Slab blurted out, catching himself, hoping to score some brownie points. "Miss Talwyn."
"And don't you forget it!" Zephyr barked at him.
"Guys, ease up," she ordered with a thin smile. "Well... I guess the ship did take a few shots, aaaand... if you guys insist..."
"Say no more!" Slab interrupted. "Just ease 'er on in and we'll getcha all patched up."
"We will?" Crunch asked in an incredulous voice.
Talwyn couldn't restrain a laugh as Slab muttered threats under his breath, but she grew quiet as worry over Ratchet's fate nagged at the pit of her stomach.
The voice of the Port Captain came over the communicators just then. "I do hope you two hooligans haven't opened up a box of troubles here, but... that really was a brave thing ya did. Now, go ahead and come on in, you three."
Talwyn was glad of the interruption of her mood, smiling a bit. "Hey, I have a friend in a really high place who'll make sure the Cragmites don't want to come within a parsec of here." But that just served to remind her that the Phoenix II was in the thick of the battle she had run from, and it hadn't sounded like a walk in the park. 'Sasha... what the hell are you going through?'
"Cap'n, I insist that my attack craft are gonna fly to defend our ship!"
"No they will not!" Sasha exclaimed just as stubbornly. "Major Havoc, you know how much I outrank you. If you want your men to defend my ship, put them on gunnery duty! And don't you dare disobey me, mister!"
Busby was amazed at this side of her Captain, having never seen it before, watching her take command of the battle with almost ruthless determination. At the same time, he could still perceive under the surface the soft, vulnerable woman who cared for her crew dearly, a woman who captivated him. And then as if to remind him that she was still the iron willed Cazar Commander, she cried to her crew as weapon fire sparked off the nose of the ship, "Not one Cragmite Cruiser gets within a hundred kay of the Phoenix!"
"Aye aye, sir!" he shouted with the others, adding under his breath, "Damn, if I wouldn't follow you to Hell and back along with everyone else. Besides... there's no way I could ever leave you, now..."
Sasha had driven the Phoenix II deep into the formation of Imperial Cruisers, and while they initially scattered, Busby knew there was no way they would surrender their space without a fight. And likewise, there was no way, outside of a secret weapon, that they stood a chance against a Solanan Navy vessel just shy of a dreadnought. Since they had lost the advantage of their missile carrier, the fight was essentially over, though they were determined to drag it out and make it as costly on her as possible.
She froze as a worried voice came over the speakers. "Uh, Cap'n, I could use a little help here."
"Scout? Scout!" she cried. "What's your situation!"
"About three minutes out with five Cruisers on my tail. And a whole mess of missiles," the probe replied anxiously.
Sasha exclaimed, "Peter, do whatever it takes to save him!"
"Uhh, Captain, we still have a few squads of Cruisers on us--" he began.
"Do it!" she cried, and he knew at that point matters were settled, directing turrets from general defense to focus on the ships and missiles homing in on their probe bot.
Busby's eyes widened as a sensor indication caught his eye and he shouted along with Raoul, "Hard starboard arc!"
The Helmsman knew better than to question such an outcry and pulled the nose of the ship hard to the upper right. The drastic maneuver pushed everyone into their seats from undampened G-forces. Sasha looked to her First sharply, beginning to inquire of him as a wide beam of energy just tagged the Phoenix on the chin, destroying several Imperial Cruisers which were caught in its path. Gasping for breath, she panted, "Oh my God... that nearly... where from, Busby?"
"Particle cannon battery on Visceron!" he replied excitedly. "I gave Peter the coordinates!"
"Return fire!" Sasha ordered. "And watch that damned planet like a hawk!"
"Aye ma'am," they responded as the Weapons Officer directed their own particle cannons to the location indicated by Busby's sensors, and as the planet scan was being coordinated by Scout's forward probe, the accuracy was pinpoint. Busby added as the lights dimmed briefly from the massive release of energy from the ship's cannons, "We should be able to take them all out before they rechar - oh crap, hard to port lower quad!"
The crew held onto their chairs as the ship dropped below them, their stomachs lurching from the violent maneuver. Sasha threw her hands up as a second beam threatened to blast directly into the bridge, but the moments passed and she was still alive. "You were saying, Busby?" she gasped with a faint smile.
"Okay, okay, so they paid their electric bill early," he replied, though he was still too shaken to admire his typically corny wit. He had been tempted to sneak a look at Sasha as she presided over the battle and if he had, the bridge would have been obliterated, and the Phoenix as good as dead. He watched his display as the particle cannon fire scorched the enemy battery emplacements one by one.
"You need to watch your monitour moer closelee, you slaquer!" Raoul chided from the front of the bridge.
"Do I tell you how to do your job?" Busby grumbled, irritated at being caught red handed by the ship's computer.
"Usually!" the computer snapped back.
"Well, I'm usually right," he retorted.
"Can it, you two--" Sasha began, when she stopped short from the voice of Scout over the speakers.
"I don't suppose you guys could open a garage door for me!" he cried. "Twenty seconds!"
Sasha closed her eyes, cupping her face in her hands, struggling for just a moment of peace and clarity in the midst of the chaos. "Open bay two... just long enough to get him in."
"Ma'am? Bay two has half our attack ships in it," the Helmsman reminded her.
"I know, Dakkar, just do it," she ordered.
Busby gaped at his screens declaring, "He's still got a swarm of missiles on his tail! Crap, did they unload everything on 'im? They're practically bumping into each other! And still three Cruisers left!"
"I know, Busby..." she said quietly, her fists clenched as fire from the Cruisers began to strike the hull. "Peter, you have to eliminate those threats!"
"Uh... workin' on it, ma'am," he replied, knowing that he couldn't be heavy handed or he could destroy Scout along with the targets. Everyone watched as the seconds seemed to crawl by. The Cruisers were decimated, but the missiles numbered in the dozens and were directly behind the probe bot as he flew as fast as he dared towards the sanctuary of that open bay. Then warheads began detonating.
"Scout?" Sasha called anxiously. "Scout!"
There was no response, although Busby spoke up tentatively, and the tone in his voice made the Cazar's spirits plummet. "He... veered away from the ship... taking the missiles with him..."
There was an anguished strangled sound as Sasha choked back a scream, but she couldn't restrain it all. "Faqing hell!" she cried, pounding the armrest with her fist. "Secure that bay and wipe out the remaining enemies! Every last one!"
Busby snuck a very brief glance at the feloid, wincing at the pain and frustration apparent in every facet of her being. "I'm really sorry, Sasha," he whispered, "but I don't know what else you could have done."
He blinked in surprise as she growled, "What I could have done... what I could have done? I could have saved him, that's what!" He looked to see her glaring at him, her teeth clenched and her eyes moist, though it was clear that she was placing the blame on herself. "End this battle, people! I've had enough of this crap!" She felt almost nauseous from the tension, and even worse as she recalled that there was the merest chance Talwyn could be in danger. 'Please,' she prayed, 'for heaven's sake, be safe...'
Talwyn watched as the tall lanky pilot clad in black climbed out of his even blacker ship, coming over next to her as he removed his helmet. As she expected, he was a Leonida, and had a thick mop of black hair that he shook out from being crammed in his headgear. 'Just what I expected from some lug named Slab,' she remarked to herself, thinking it had to be him. But as she studied his face, she wondered if she wasn't seeing something more than just another racer punk. It occurred to her that he was rather handsome, and there was something about him that was almost tender...
Realizing that they'd been standing there, silently staring into each other's eyes all this time, she coughed uncomfortably. "Uhm... thanks, again. That was really something, taking on that Cruiser with those old heaps," she said, jerking her thumb at their starspeeders.
It seemed to take a moment for what she'd said to register, and the way he was staring at her threatened to make her blush. "Huh? Aw, cumon now--!"
"Hey, don't get so defensive... it's actually a complement," she chuckled, then fell into an awkward silence as he followed suit. "So... I take it you're Slab?"
He nodded, speechless, as his eyes settled in hers. "And you're... somethin' else, babe..." he breathed softly.
"Don't call me that," she snapped, though she could feel her cheeks beginning to flush as Slab muttered an apology. Beside them, she was aware that his buddy Crunch was gazing at them with a sigh, then backed up as Zephyr clomped up to look him over. Growing uncomfortable, he poked at the warbot who poked him back. He returned it more strongly, and he learned that it wasn't a good idea to get into a poking match with Zephyr, as the next one had him falling over backwards with a yelp. "So... what do you do, besides hit on girls?"
That had him blinking and flustered for a moment, and she stifled a giggle at how cute he looked as he tried to regain his macho composure, though she seemed to blush a bit more herself. "Uhh... we race. We're good, too."
She frowned at him, having nailed them from the start. "Then you'd better maintain those buckets better. You push 'em too hard, and you won't be racing any more. You'll be..." Her voice faltered as the sorrow over Ratchet's fate caught in her throat, and for some reason, she hated the thought that these two youths might not make it back home one day. Looking aside, she muttered, "Well... you know..."
There was an odd tone in Slab's voice as he drawled out, "Yeah... that's what that dude Ratchet said--"
He stopped short as Talwyn looked up at him sharply. "Ratchet? You saw Ratchet? When!"
He seemed to cave in on himself as he muttered, "Oh... so you're Ratchet's babe, huh..."
"Yes!" she exclaimed, then realized what that meant. "No! I mean... we're friends, okay? Just tell me!"
He didn't know whether to feel heartened by that or not. "Uhh... couple days ago. We kinda had a... yank. But we're cool now," he added quickly. He fell silent as she was visibly downcast, looking concerned himself. "Did... somethin' happen?"
She was crushed, hoping that the racers had run into him more recently. "Huh? Oh, no..." she muttered, "at least, I hope not..."
"Hey, uh... need some help?" Slab offered hopefully.
She looked into his eyes to see if he was wanting to take advantage of her, but there was no trace of anything but sympathy, as far as she could tell. And then she realized what that look in his eye was; Ratchet had made an impression on him, like he did on so many people who's lives he crossed. And... he might not be so bad after all. "Ya know," she began, "I might just--"
They both jumped as Slab's phone went off, and he answered it with a groan. "What! Uhh... sorry, just goin' through a rough... what? Aww, come on... now?! Well... I'm kinda in the middle of an emergence... whadya mean, I ran out of--? But..." Talwyn tried to smother a grin as a tirade erupted in the feloid's ear, and he looked increasingly despondent. "Okay okay... be right there. Shi - eeesh..." he muttered as he angrily shoved the phone deep into his pocket.
"Lemme guess," Talwyn smirked, "you have pizza runs to make."
He blinked at her in surprise. "How'd ya know?"
She gaped back. "Uh... I was just guessing--!"
"Listen," he interrupted, "You gonna be around a few? Or... like, a day, at least, maybe?"
"Uhh..." She scrambled for some kind of answer. "I don't know--"
"Hold on. Okay? Until I get back," he told her, then turned to his friend, who was having a much safer staring match with Cronk and Zephyr. "Crunch, dude! Hep me out!"
The other feloid shot him an irritated look, though he seemed resigned to his fate. "Hep me out, hep me out..." he chided. "You're payin', right?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'll cut ya in," Slab grumbled as he grabbed his helmet, stopping to gaze into Talwyn's eyes. "Don't go 'til I get back, kay?"
She took a deep breath and ran her fingers through her hair to settle herself. "I... I don't know... we'll see..."
He stood there, transfixed, as he clearly didn't want this to be the last time he saw her, and then before she could blink, the helmet banged to the deck and he grabbed her in a tight embrace, his lips pressed to hers. She was so shocked, she didn't know what to do, but she could feel her body melting, her heart beginning to race.
Beside them, three figures froze in astonishment. Crunch gaped at them in stunned disbelief, muttering, "Holy lip lock..." The other two's reactions were a little stronger, as Cronk toppled over with a moan, his head coming off, and Zephyr's jaw hit the ground, literally. Slab drew back, blurting out, "Wait for me, babe, Talwyn, please?"
She stood there blinking unsteadily, her mind tumbling in a storm of mixed emotions, her whole body flushed, but when she regained a measure of composure, she drew back her fist, crying, "Why you--!" She took a swing at the shadow of a head beneath a mop of black hair but missed completely, spinning to the starport deck.
"Sorry," he called to her as he jumped into his ship, a different tone in his voice. "But you can try that again next time."
Zephyr was trying to fit his lower jaw into place when he heard the two starspeeders' engines roar to life. He began to trot off towards them, sounding a bit like a pelican as he tried to give voice to his indignation, but he fell face first to the deck as Cronk grabbed him by the ankle - his body, anyway. His head chinned itself forward, saying, "Hold on, ol' buddy. You ain't leavin' me outta this one." Unfortunately, they were unable to do more than watch as the ships lifted into the air, rotating to roar off to their job.
'That kiss... Ratchet was supposed to be the first guy to kiss me! Still... it was kind of... sweet...' The gust of exhaust roused Talwyn, who had been sitting there holding her head, brushing a finger across her lips, and she remembered that she was supposed to be outraged. She bolted for her ship, and as she had no idea how to call them, she beamed a message to the fleeing spacecraft. Crunch came on the display, waving frantically and begging for mercy. "No, the lead ship, damn it!" she growled, and found Slab gazing at the screen in surprise.
"Hey! Whadya know, it works!" he began. "So, ya just can't wait for--"
"Shut up!" she snapped. "You... you... you... apologize!"
"For what, makin' you blush?" he asked with a grin. "Ya know, you're really cute when you get shook up."
"I'm... not shook up!" she exclaimed, fighting a blush and losing.
"Yeah you are."
"No I'm not! Now you come back here so I can give you one of--!" she growled, shaking a fist at the screen.
"So what's your number?" he cut in quickly.
"NU6723AT0009!" she blurted out. "And you'd better have one hell of an apology ready!"
"Hey, you can count on it. I'm gonna melt you like chocolate!" Giving her a wink, he cut the message before she could unleash a response.
Being unable to vent at the racer, she screamed and pounded her fists on the console, then sat back in a fluster, failing to notice Zephyr carrying Cronk's head as they came up the ship's ramp behind her. She felt mixed up; angry, insulted, confused... and warm. She couldn't keep from dwelling on that moment when the racer held her tightly, his feloid scent enveloping her with his arms, the soft fur of his face along with his surprisingly softer lips, and the way she grew limp against that tall, strong, masculine form. It was so vivid, she could still feel it, and the touch of his lips lingering on hers. "What am I doing?" she muttered angrily at herself. "I love Ratchet..." She faltered as she wondered sadly, "But... what if he isn't there anymore?"
"I hope you gave that yahoo what for!"
She jumped as Cronk's words startled her like a bump to the head. "Oh, uhh... yeah," she muttered, "I gave him both barrels..." But she caught her breath as his parting words echoed in her mind: I'm gonna melt you like chocolate.
In the midst of this confused reverie, the voice of the Port Boss came from the rear hatch, and she wondered if she should just leave to see about the fate of the Phoenix, and Ratchet, or... if she should wait for him. "Coming!" she called back, wishing instead that she could be alone with her thoughts a while longer. "Come on, you two," she said to her bewildered robot companions, completely missing their dilapidated condition.
"Enemy vessels destroyed: one hundred percent. Enemy missiles intercepted... ninety nine point six percent." He noticed her ears drooping, and dreaded continuing with the report, as he knew she would take it personally. "Uhm... enemy attack success... three point nine percent..."
Sasha stared forward, not seeing much of anything in front of her, nor hearing the cold, clinical, heartless postmortem of the battle Busby was reciting. When the conflict was raging, it was almost a relief to get caught up in the passions of warfare. But now, she couldn't hide from the despair that threatened to drown her in its depths again. Death... more death. More death she would have to deal with, and these, her responsibility. It didn't matter to her that they were robots. They were people, they had believed in her, that she would get them through the battle alive. At least, that's how she always saw it. But now, after Ratchet's demise, it was so much worse.
He was watching her, she knew, gazing at her in desolate sympathy as he ran through the battle statistics. She could smell the emotions swirling through him like a mixture of incense that clashed, but one in particular. She wanted to run away, but she sat there quietly until the First Officer's report had a clear period to it. She rose promptly as he stopped, murmuring, "Thank you, Busby." She keyed the ship's intercom, wondering what she was going to say as the musical tones announcing her finished ringing, and hoped her voice sounded strong. The first few words were uncomfortably soft. "This is your Captain. As you know, we have just successfully engaged the enemy at planet Visceron and dispatched them completely. Which... also means I have committed an act of war against the Cragmite Empire. I don't know what their response is going to be, but there's no doubt I have opened a Pandora's Box I shouldn't have. The Resistance Confederation is undoubtedly going to pay a price for my actions, and I will direct the Phoenix to assist these forces as best I can.
"As for now, our mission here isn't over, so stay on your toes. I'm keeping the Phoenix on red alert in case the Cragmites retaliate. I will have to say that you have done yourselves proud, which is what I've expected of the crew of the Phoenix. It has suffered..." She drew a breath, forcing herself to continue. "Blood in combat, but your performance has been outstanding. I don't know if this battle will ever be recognized officially for a commendation, but you have mine. Continue to make me proud of you, though, I'm sure you will. Thank you. That is all." She cut the intercom, saying to the bridge crew, "Good job, guys. And listen... don't take anything I've said to you in the heat of combat personally. It's... just the way I am. Carry on." She sat down, feeling lost and out of place, casting her gaze to Number One. He was looking at her, and their eyes locked for... how long, she didn't know. But then he snapped his head back to his console, causing her to wilt in sorrow. 'Damnation,' she thought sourly, 'I've really made a mess of this. How can I get things back to normal between us... or can I?'
"Captain," he reported to her, "the probe is sending back detailed data of the prison area." He nearly mentioned Scout by name, just managing to catch himself.
His refusal to say her name just made her feel worse, and it was hard to respond. "Thank you, Busby. Tell me when you learn something." Ratchet was gone, relations between herself and her First were strained, the Phoenix was damaged, casualties suffered, she instigated a war... what else could go wrong?
"What the hell?"
She looked up sharply at Busby's outcry, her stomach knotting hard. "What? What is it!" But then she saw that he was smiling... could it be...?
He caught sight of her expression and knew he'd better say something quick before she got the wrong idea. "I just noticed that the signal from the probe is still being relayed." When she looked confused, he explained, "Scout is still active, Captain."
It wasn't what she hoped to hear, but she still jumped to her feet, gripping the railing around the dais as she quivered with excitement. "Scout..." she whispered, then more loudly, she declared, "Dakkar... intercept him and bring him in!" To the Communications Officer, she said, "Lola, hail that robot."
She tried to raise him a few times, but shook her head. "Sorry ma'am, he isn't responding."
Sasha curled her hand to her chest, but with a sigh of relief. "At least we know he's still alive." She noticed that the First Officer was engrossed in the transmission from Scout's forward probe. She came to his side, asking, "Busby, what do you have so far?"
It took a moment for him to respond as he was still mulling over what he was seeing, and he had to quell a reaction to her presence, giving a self-conscious cough. "Uhm... well, I'm playing detective here, so keep in mind, this is just my opinion. But look."
She gazed at the screen as detailed real time activity was being relayed by the probe. "I see... a lot of collateral damage. And what's that?" She touched a large metallic shape leaning against a tower of stone a ways off from the prison complex itself, and a data box popped up. "A... Blarg mech?"
"Yeah," Busby replied. "It looks like it might have been there independent of the Cragmite forces. The monorail looks like it was smashed with a hammer, not blasted or anything. In fact, it looks like there's some other damage it caused. Like, Ratchet wouldn't have attacked the prisoners, right?"
She swallowed down some painful sorrow at the association of Ratchet with wanton destruction. "No... there was no way Ratchet would ever cause deliberate harm to those not fighting him. He would... rather suffer himself instead." She needed a distraction and found one, pointing back to the mech. "What are these prison workers doing?"
"Besides making rude gestures at us, they're recovering a casualty." When the Cazar looked ready to cry, he added quickly, "It's okay, Sasha, it's a prisoner. In fact, it's... Ace Hardlight? Wow... did he ever fall hard when DreadZone got canceled."
"Ratchet did the canceling, in fact." She gave a faint, rueful smile at that, thinking that at least Busby had said her name, finally. "So..." she murmured sadly, "where is... his body? I'm not leaving until it's recovered."
"Well, that's just it," Busby replied. "There isn't one." Her eyes closed in a moment of anguish, and he knew he would have to get to the point. "Sasha, hold on, I have some things to show you. Look at this." He zoomed in on the workers hauling Ace's massive body into a rescue craft. "He was in a containment unit which was wedged against the mech to keep it from sinking."
She wasn't all that interested in random bits of information, giving him an uncaring shrug. "So, they pulled it up to get him out of the water...?"
"I don't think so. Look there." He pointed to two glowing spots in the water. "Laser flares, and these are like the ones we use in the Alliance."
Sasha's heart lurched as she realized what Busby was driving at, but decided it had to be something else. Besides, she was too much of a realist to accept a miracle from such circumstantial evidence. "So... he saved Ace Hardlight before they got him, or... you think he was captured alive? Or at least... that his body is in the prison?"
"I don't think so," he replied, driving her to exasperation. "See, you said he has a Lombax starfighter. But there's no wreckage, and she wouldn't leave him, no matter what. They just don't do that."
She was staring at him, dumbfounded, not wanting to give in to the lure of teasing little hints. Her emotions were at the breaking point as she rasped out, "Busby, please... just spill it..."
At last, he told her directly to mercifully drive the point home, "Sasha, I think he's alive, and got away."
Her breath grew short as she gasped, "Busby... are you sure...?" but she didn't wait for an answer. She began panting, her heart pounding in her chest as she ran around the circular walkway to the dais where her seat was poised. She didn't bother to sit, grabbing her console keyboard and typing a call to Ratchet, though she forgot that the Communications Officer would have to patch her through. "Lola!" she practically screamed. "Give me access to Comm-Net!" The flustered Lieutenant complied, and when the screen came up, it looked like the starfighter's hatch was open, and what looked like a hangar was overhead. Now she really did scream. "Ratchet?! Ratchet! Where are you--!" She fell silent as she saw the Mute indicator in the lower left corner, grabbing the keyboard and typing furiously, her hands shaking.
ratchet please for gods sake answer me
She began typing again when a reply came up. Captain Phyronyx, Ratchet is well, and is resting quietly. Please calm down, and don't worry. This is...
She couldn't see any more of the reply as she choked out a sob, tears flooding her eyes as her legs buckled under her, and it grew very dark...
Now the Council was really upset, tempers flaring, tentacles flailing, and the poor Blarg translator had one heck of a time keeping track of who was yelling first. But the consensus was, "War! War!! War!!"
Tachyon saw that he was fighting a losing battle with his Council, finally exclaiming, "All right already!" As the Cragmite leaders settled down to listen, he said to them through the translator, "Fine... you're right, and failing to act after this incursion by the Solanan warship would cause a lot of questions. We might even suffer an attack as a result, seeming weak. But I want nothing too heavy handed! We need resources, so don't go blowing up everything in sight!"
"But blowing up everything in sight is what we do!" objected General Borlog. "Besides, it's fun!"
Tachyon grabbed him by the neck with his scepter, pulling him face to face. "Not now! Not while my plans are coming to fruition! Am I understood?" The Cragmite snarled, meeting the Emperor's gaze angrily, but finally backed down. Tachyon released him, shouting to the others, "Listen, you overgrown slugs! With only... oh, for pity's sake--!" He banged a Cragmite commander on the head, exclaiming, "Don't eat the translator, just because I called you a slug! Now, where was I...?" As the poor Blarg crawled behind Tachyon, he continued, "Oh yes. With only Drophyd Troopers, I have managed to restore the Cragmite Empire to one quarter of its original glory! But if you can be just a little faqing patient, Operation Banana Peel will have the entire expanse of the Alliance flat on its back! No one will be able to oppose us! Now... isn't the combined wealth of forty galaxies worth waiting for?!"
The slug-like beings turned to eye each other in amazement, the translator edging forward hesitantly to render any speech intelligible to the Emperor. Admiral Plurdge grumbled, "We'll trust you, for now, but we can't eat promises. Now, where can we attack that won't have you yelling about it!"
"There!" The tip of his scepter snapped into a clump of stars on a holographic Polaris galaxy map. "The Mundus Cluster. It's a mediocre group of worlds bordering Cragmite Space, and of no strategic interest to the Confederation. They won't lift a finger, so you can invade with impunity. Specifically, attack planet Odum and sweep out from there. After all, that is where a Cruiser was lost."
One of the Cragmites wrung his tentacles with glee. "I love to break non-aggression pacts!"
Author's notes
Hail Mary: this is an ancient term of religious origin, which became commonly used to describe a last ditch sports play to score a winning goal. The Hail Mary Busby worked out was in case the Phoenix II was discovered, or other situation which required drastic action, such as a civilian vessel inadvertently arriving in the combat zone. It involved a massive launch of missiles to thin out the opposing Cragmite forces.
Leftenant: rather than a typo, this is the common designation for the officer rank formerly known as Junior Lieutenant. When numerous officers named "Junior" took offense at being labeled as Lieutenants regardless of their ranks, a designation used by some of the outlying navies was adopted, and peace with the "Junior" ranks was restored. Those of you into trivia might note that Leftenant Pulverizer has a distant relative made famous in the Earth movies Mister Roberts and Ensign Pulver.
Ship orientation: to understand how the Navies of the universe direct their ships, they've used an ancient set of sailing terms. Bow refers to the nose of the ship, Stern the rear. Port is to the left, Starboard to the right. Since they operate in 3D space, they include up and down inclinations. So when Busby called out, "Hard to port lower quad!" this meant for the Helmsman to perform an evasive maneuver strongly to the lower left, wherever free space was available.
Weapons systems: along with particle cannons and energy weapons, modern naval warships have an arsenal of high speed guided missiles. When Sasha referred to a "big salvo," that was Naval-ese for nuclear missiles. "Small yields" are conventional, non-nuclear warheads.
Further notes: a scene I was in the process of writing ended up not fitting properly as I read back over the previous chapter. I ended up editing it into that chapter, 24, just before the last scene with Talwyn. So there's a little bonus reading.
Also, due to a death in the family before Christmas, this chapter was unfortunately delayed. The chapter, and fic, are in dedication to my beloved Uncle.