More of the fic! Whee, I get this mess out fast, eh? Well, here's the next part. Still unhappy with the title. It just...doesn't seem to fit...thinks
Slight bit of violence here, nothing too graphic. And if you know who the mysterious woman is, SHH!!! Don't spoil it for everyone else!
To my reviewers:
WHOCARES? - You get the prize for the first review!
Black Rosettes - Thanks. I took your advice and kept writing. XD
rachetlvr - Eh-heh, you may not want to read the rest of the fic, then, LOL. I'm trying to stay at least somewhat canon. ;;;;;
Missy Mouse - You'll find out eventually. ;-)
Disclaimer: see chapter one.
The sight of the small craft leaving the Phoenix created a blip on the screen of a spaceship parked unobtrusively in a nearby meteor field, though the pilot did not need the radar to know of the exit. The lombax's brightly-colored ship and glowing engines stood out in the dark void of space. Fine, pearlescent teeth gleamed in the faint output screen of the radar. Yes, now was the perfect opportunity...
The ship's engines purred to life, the blue ion trail creating a faint glow behind it. The usual combustion engines with their fuel stored under high pressure were too noisy and inefficient, and made detection all the easier. Other ships also seemed to appear from nowhere; the small meteor field did not seem to contain the hiding spaces for the large number of craft that came from it.
The swam of ships moved towards the larger Phoenix, passing their leader. Each ship, with its thin, tender underbelly, small wings, and weaker-than-average engines was suited to little more than simple cargo carrying, and only disposable cargo at that. Without weapons or a decent shielding system, they would have been easy to hijack or destroy.
The lead ship did not move, however. It was smaller than the ships in its fleet, but its engines more powerfull, and the wings concealed two thin lasers. It was certainly not a combat ship, but it was not helpless, either. However, it did not offer assistance or even radio guidance; the channels between the ships were silent.
The back hatch, detecting a ship, opened easily, not even asking for a pass code. As far as the security systems were concerned, the Tyhrranoids and Dr. Nefarious were a thing of the past. And the Rangers, cowards though they were, provided internal defense. Why waste system energy on unneccessary security?
Of course, this grave mistake would cost the inhabitants dearly, particularly those on the bridge. As the first transport ship crossed the force barrier that kept the vital oxygen inside, an alarm sounded. This was no known ship! The back hatch attempted to close, but the ship wedged itself in the doorway, allowing its kinships to enter at will. Each ship, in a quiet, nonthreatening manner, hovered in over the barier and discharged its contents in succession.
The creatures which dropped from the ships, however, were as alien to the eyes of the rangers as they were to the galaxy. Their faces were nearly birdlike, each glittering eye set beneath a crest of bone covered in whispy hair behind a fierce beak. Their ears were small and triangular, though with the way they were set low and kept pinned to their heads, they were scarcely noticable. Their necks were scarcely such at all, blending into their sloping shoulders without an angle change.
Their arms, thick and muscular, were quite long. One arm rested on the ground, its fingers bent into an ape-like knucklewalk. The other craddled a blaster weapon of sorts, seemingly specially-designed for this strange, alien species. From wrist to ribcage ran a thin, tough membrane, creating a pocket for carrying small objects when the arm was bent. The body and legs themselves were nondescript, save for being muscular and covered in the same murky-gold fur, but the feet were large and somewhat flattened, and the three toes were not only clawed but webbed. Their thick tails drug the ground, slight tufts appearing at the end.
The Rangers, paralized with fear, clustered together in front of the small trasport which lead to the bridge. Although their self-preservation circuits were overly-functional, it was also deeply ingrained in their code to protect the Galactic President and those related or close to him. One Ranger, apparently bolder than the others, gathered himself, stepped forward, and called out to the strange creatures,
"Hey you!" Nearly a hundred pairs of eyes, which had previously been roaming the ship's interior, turned on him with their nearly-emotionless, steely gaze. "Yeah, you guys! You, um, better get out of here, before you, um, get in trouble. Captain Sasha's not happy with uninvited strangers, and she can get pretty nasty!" he said, remembering how cold she'd seemed snapping at Ratchet, and then everyone else, while he had been on bridge duty. He shuddered, if a large, green robot can do such a thing. "You really don't want to make her mad..."
BANG!! Ratchet staggered slightly from the recoil, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. The small rocket was not especially flashy or powerful, but it did produce a satisfying explosion that even the fireworks of his Rynocerator couldn't match. He wasn't sure why, but he absolutely loved blowing things up. Perhaps it was the fact that his former job had depended on others wrecking their machinery, or perhaps it was the fact that the sights and sounds, the heat of the rocket's ignition and the acrid smell of twisted metal and singed flesh forced him to forget his past and future worries and simply live in the here and now.
"Hey Clank, any more Tyhrranoids around here?"
"Bioscanners indicate all vertibrates within a five kilometer radius have been decimated."
"Okay...how about killer robots?"
"Negative."
"...Mutant plants?"
"Ratchet, we are in a desert. There are no mutant plants."
"Just checking." The lombax put away his weapon and sighed, sitting on a nearby rock that wasn't reduced to rubble or covered in Tyhrranoid splatters. He put his chin in his hands. "So...think Sasha's forgiven me yet?"
Clank detatched himself from his partner's back and walked around in front of him. "I do not see why you do not simply appologise and move on with things."
"What!? Appologise?! Are you insane? Did someone cross your wires or something?"
"I am merely giving you advice. What was it you were arguing about, anyway?"
"It was...we were...I don't remember, actually," Ratchet said, a loopy grin crossing his features. Clank groaned and shook his head. "We were arguing, and then we started insulting each other. I told her she was only the Phoenix's captain because her dad's the Galactic President...and now she probably hates me." He put his head back in his hands and sighed.
"You know as well as I do that Sasha is a highly effective and well-respected millitary leader. I am sure that she knows that as well and understands that your caustic remark was merely made in impetuousness, when your emotions were high and had gotten the better of you. And I know for a fact that she does not hate you."
"You think so?" Ratchet's ears perked up at Clank's words. He wasn't sure how, but the small robot was often times more empathetic than himself, and seemed to know exactly what to say. His trademark grin returned. "C'mon, let's go back to the Phoenix. I think I've caused enough damage to one planet anyway." He laughed.
"Are you planning on appologising then?"
"Appologise? Nah." He grinned and laughed some more; his spirits seemed higher, almost as high as they had been the first time he'd left Veldin. Clank shook his head, although he knew appologising to Sasha was unnescessary. He'd seen the two argue and bicker for nearly an hour and then plop down in front of the VG9000 as if nothing had happened.
The scene inside the Phoenix's hanger was unimaginable. Even when it had been previously overrun, there had not been much of a scuffle. The frightened Rangers had either teleported out of harm's way or else been destroyed. This time, however, the battle was more even. The creatures were not especially powerful compared to the Rangers, nor were they completely resilliant to attacks, but they were numerous enough to pose a threat. The moment one creature was gone, it seemed, two more took its place.
In the same way, the Rangers poured in from other decks and levels. As the creatures' blasters took them out, another took their place. Bodies, be they twisted lumps of green metal or charred flesh, littered the floor, and oil and blood created a sticky, slippery mess of it all. Even those who had not yet been injured appeared to be, so thick was the carnage that splashed onto them.
Slow, however, ever so slowly, the battle began to turn. To the Rangers, it seemed, for every one of the creatures that was killed or incapacitated, now four more took its place. And for every two of their rank that fell, only one replacement was to be found. Suddenly, it was no longer a battle for the Phoenix; it was a battle for survival.
Their ranks became thinner and thinner; what was once a stalwart barricade was now little more than a tiny wall, a few scrappy robots pressed together, trying at all costs to save their own hides while remaining true to their programming. What was ten became five...three, then two...one. As the last Ranger fell, the lead craft finally settled itself in the hanger, its pilot leaping gingerly from the cockpit.
She - for the curving form of her figure belied her gender - was of an average height for a Solananian, perhaps six or seven feet tall. Her entire body, however, was covered, making it difficult to place anything else about her. Several bejeweled, metal armaments covered various parts of her body - torso, upper arms, thighs, the tops of her boots and gloves, and her shoes. Her head was covered with a hood that clasped at her throat and hung down in back, creating a slight cape. The jewels seemed to have a soft glow to them, much like her eyes behind the dark mask over her face.
One of the creatures approached her, its bulk odd next to her slim frame. "Ahm-mwah!" it croaked, its voice somewhere between a shrill raptor scream and a gutteral growl. She placed her hand on its beak and rubbed its face, not in an especially affectionate manner, but simply as a reward for doing its job. The creature backed away again, and the female continued. She stepped into the small moving compartment leading to the bridge, or what her schematics had said went to the bridge.
She motioned to the creatures, and about a dozen of them joined her. The rest dispersed and began to rummage about the ship, trickling down through the levels. The whole ship was easily overrun without its Rangers; the other defenses were poor and outside to boot. For being one of the largest ships in the Galactic fleet, it was surprisingly understaffed, though that could be attributed to the lives lost fighting...what was his name? Infamous? She couldn't quite remember, something she found unusual for herself and slightly unsettling. She looked behind her at the feet and bellies of her troops; their discoloration was more unsettling than her momentary lapse in memory. She looked at her own feet and discovered that they, too, had a small amount of gore on them. That was just disgusting. While it was hard to tell with her mask, her eyes squinched up and the slight movement of her cheekbones told she was making a rather disgusted face.
Outside the bridge doors, she instructed her creatures to fan out in a formation before it. Walking to a nearby pannel in the wall, she removed it quickly, inserted a small device, and began to type and punch the keypad furiously. The doors opened after a moment, and she smiled behind her mask. The creatures rushed in, quickly incapacitating the larger of the crewmembers. Each was neither knocked unconcious or heavily restrained, and, given the fact that none of them were truely accomplished fighters, the scuffle was fairly short.
Sasha, however, was left alone, left to the female leader of the band of mutants. She had drawn a small blaster, barely enough to fend off a one-eyed Tyhrranoid, and had pointed it at the strange woman. Though her eyes darted about, the barrel remained trained on the taller assailant. She didn't know why, but the woman gave her cold chills, and being smaller didn't help. Perhaps being short was a plus around Ratchet, being that it wasn't awkward to lean against him, to cuddle on his shoulder and kiss him, though normally she wasn't one for emotion, but at the moment, she really, really wished she was more of a normal height.
Or that Ratchet was there. She didn't care he'd been insulting earlier; he was a typical guy, and guys typically made a few insensative remarks every now and then. She could forgive him; she already had. She just wished he were there with her instead of out, then realized that it was her fault he'd left. Her body shook, both from nerves and that realization. "Ratchet..."
"Yes, what about Ratchet?" the female rogue said, her voice smooth and silky. Sasha's eyes widened; how had this intruder heard her? She'd barely even whispered! "Why wasn't he here?" The woman approached slowly, walking down the ramp to the floor of the bridge. Her walk was proud and sultry, not just self-confident. If she hadn't been nearly paralized with terror - not to mention the smell of the creatures nearby - she would have rolled her eyes at the arrogance. The unknown woman looked around. "My, my - Captain Qwark and his entire...was was it again? 'Q-Force'? And you - Captain Sasha, if I'm not mistaken. It seems everyone is here...but the lombax."