Disclaimer: I don't own Vandread.

A/N

This story is entirely fan-made and fictional. Any acts that you might find offensive, disguising, inhuman, wrong or just don't like, we are not liable for. You are reading this story of your own free will and not being forced, if you don't like something, we are not forcing you to stay and read it. Please leave the page and re-frame from reading the chapter and or story. All Copyrighted Characters belong to their respect owners. We don't claim anything that is not our own creation and are merely using them for fan made material.

I accept constructive criticize and help but being rude and disrespectful will not be tolerated. This is done for the fun of writing not to make every little person happy, while making people happy with are stories is great, we are not here for Money, Fame or Fortune this is done for the simply joy of writing.

Chapter 2

"Never be a glass half-empty person. Always be a glass half-full person. Means you try new things." – Thunder to Barnette.

Barnette flipped through the magazine in boredom. No sooner had they landed was she whisked away to a small store to be dressed up. It was nice to finally have a bra on, but it itched. The fabric felt wrong. It wasn't smooth or maybe it was the wrong size?

Forced into dress blues for their military and then stuck in a vehicle for another hour without food or something to drink made her irritable. She wanted to yell at someone, but Trig had warned her that she shouldn't do anything that she wouldn't do to her own authoritarian figures back home. So now she simply waited in a lobby with two others, one of them standing at the door that lead to a world of trees, singing, and freedom. The other person sat beside her.

It was Trig.

The magazine wasn't anything interesting. It was military based, but the media had their hands in it. It spoke about political figures that were stepping down, new traders that were working with them, news on colony development, and questionable actions by the military. A few articles talked nicely about them, and gave credence to Trig's earlier statement about the Guardian Pilots.

They were celebrities.

The machines, Guardians, were state of the art and some of the hardest machines to pilot. The best pilots were seen as stars. Since pilots of their caliber were rare and creating one took two years to do, pilots were rather rare. They made up less than half of the active military on their world, but their world only supported near half million people, and of that number, only fifty thousand were active military, with that number going down to a mere thousand pilots.

While the numbers sort of made sense, pilots were rare because of their machine-types.

Guardians were devised as three types: Sentinels, Attackers, and Hybrids.

Sentinels are larger Van-type machines that use heavy weapons, shoulder mounted weaponry, hip mounted weaponry, and thick armor capable of withstanding ten thousand degrees for about ten seconds; which basically meant that if a normal Dread wanted to take one on, they had to be fast and constantly shooting the same area. But they paid a very heavy price for all the armor and weaponry. Their machines were slow and primarily used as a rearguard unit to protect their ships. On land they were long-range bombardment machines capable of putting out enough firepower to sink small vessels or put up a simple barrage to cover the airspace and keep faster units on their toes or in the ground.

Attackers were the equivalent of Dreads. They were slightly smaller than the average Dread, but faster, carrying a vast array of missiles and guns. They didn't support a transformation unless they shed their armor which protected them and gave them their immense speed. Pilots for these machines were rare, but Trig had pointed out that Lightening was the only one they had in their unit to pilot one. Attackers weren't always meant to be attackers as same were used for reconnaissance or to provide Air Combat Maneuvering – or simply ACM for short.

Hybrids are the machines that walk the thin line between the two other types. Capable of transforming between Attack and Sentinel gives them the advantage of heavy weapons of the Sentinel and speeds near matching the Attacker. Capable of transforming on the fly and the use of weapons exclusive to Sentinels give them the advantage of unknown armaments and rapid movements. Where Attackers would need to make a wide turn in order to get around someone, Hybrids merely transformed and spun around to go the other way if they so wanted.

As unique as they were, transforming on the spot in the middle of a fight left them vulnerable for roughly five seconds as the pilot would be subjected to tremendous stress from the transformation, and if they opted for rapid deceleration while transforming, the pilot was subjected to even more stress and Gs put on the body.

Hybrids made up most of the force with Sentinels taking the second spot. Attackers were rare, but they weren't far beyond by any account.

Barnette finished flipping through the magazine and sat it down on the small table in front of her. She fidgeted with the military uniform she was forced to wear. It was tight and clung to her body in ways her uniform didn't. It annoyed her greatly.

"Stop it."

Barnette huffed as she did as she was told. Trig doubted she wanted to do as told but went back to reading her small book. It was strange to see her reading a book. She didn't look like the type.

Realizing that Trig might not want to talk or that she didn't have anything to talk about at all, Barnette shut her eyes and returned to her inner thoughts about their world.

It was beautiful in its own way. Mejarru had its own beauty for sure, but their world was interesting in that it didn't have much in the way of natural water. They weren't gifted with a large planet that had an abundance of land to use. Large forests surrounded the cities with small mountains peppering out further than the eye could see. The water that they used came from under the earth in large pockets. Pulling it to the surface was a heavily sought-after job.

All in all, the planet wasn't a garden world like Mejarru, but it wasn't like Taraaku. It was actually a combination of both. It was an amazing thing, really.

"Barnette Orangello?"

The pirate was snapped from her thoughts and stood up sharply when Trig did the same. A man in a military uniform with ranks she didn't understand pinned to his chest stood at the double doors with an impatient look on his face.

"Yes?"

"We're ready for you. Lieutenant Trig, wait out here if you don't mind."

"Yes, Sir!"

Barnette took a deep breath as she walked towards the unknown man. He gestured for her to enter and within moments she felt fear well up in her chest. The room she entered was dark with only a few witch lights above them somewhere in the ceiling and a large table with multiple chairs.

"Have a seat." The unknown man took his spot at the head. "The others will be here shortly."

"I thought you said they were ready for me?"

The man smiled. "Yes. Yes, I believe I did." He gestured behind her and a woman that looked older than even Magno stepped in. She, too, wore a military uniform, but unlike her male counterpart had more ranks and badges and medals than anyone she'd seen. The woman didn't even look her way. She looked bothered by the fact she was even here. "Fleet Admiral. Always a pleasure."

The woman shuffled past the man and sat down two chairs away from her, keeping her focus on the darkness that was around them. Barnette wanted to speak to her, but the woman looked like someone who would kill you for speaking, so she opted to remain quiet.

A minute later two men walked in. The Fleet Admiral snorted in disgust. It was two men, both wearing uniforms, but unlike the first two, only one wore medals while the other wore a flight suit with armor and a helmet. A bird insignia was attached to its chest on the pilot while the other man wore a military uniform.

"Madam Mori. Always a pleasure." The man in the uniform greeted. He turned to Barnette and extended a hand to her. She looked down at it in fear. Something about the man made her fearful. No. It wasn't the man. It was the one with the helmet. He was looking right through her. She felt her soul being torn asunder by him. The man in the suit pulled his hand back, a sly grin on his face. "You, my dear pirate, might want to learn some respect. It'll take you far."

"And you are…?"

He laughed. "Church."

"Church…?" Barnette repeated the name. It sounded foreign on her tongue. "And him?"

Church looked back at the man she gestured to. His smile vanished as he looked around the room. Mori and the unknown man had scowls. "My guards' name is Thursday."

"Sit down, Church!" Mori finally snapped. She sounded older than she appeared. Her voice was weak, but the tone had too much bite to it. It sounded like someone who could bite you to death with her words. "Let's get this fucking meeting underway so I can go back to my relaxing dinner with my grandson."

Church tilted his head, his smile returning. "Do you feel the same, Kline?"

"Yes." He grumbled.

The man laughed in good humor and took his spot beside Kline. Thursday remained by Barnette's side, his black suit creating a ghostly creature that stood just a few paces away from Barnette, and in that spot between darkness and light where the mind created things to fill the darkness.

"We can get this meeting underway now."

Mori tapping a hidden key on the desk and the center of the table opened. A small black object emerged and was illuminated by a pillar of light. The object – a small black box – had one side ripped open and a dozen wires poking into it and fed back into the platform it was on. A projection overtook the light and showed different battles being fought at different points in the past. Barnette felt pride well within her at the sight of her victories and her friends.

"You've been around the block haven't you, Barnette?" Mori laced her fingers together as all the images froze. Some were frozen on worlds, others frozen on fighters of different types, be it Van-types, Dreads, or the Cube-types. "Your GPS shows you in several locations in one centralized area for a few years. I assume that to be your place of birth. But then, curiously enough, you show up in two locations within a few seconds of each other. Almost as though you broke reality. Care to explain this?"

"I was fighting off a few Van-types while the rest of the crew was working to take back a colony ship that was used to bring us to our Mother World. When we had full control of the ship and had sent the Men on it off in Life Pods, they returned our kindness with two long-range missiles. Our energy source, Pakis, seemed to be sentient or something – I'm not sure – and it warped us out of our world and into this one."

Barnette was certain that the three before her were left slightly confused on the matter. Their silence was most likely caused by the idea that a ship had a sentient energy source that could protect them or something.

"Seriously?" Church asked, sounding far more interested than the other two. "They repaid your kindness for stealing a colony ship that brought you there, with missiles?" He lightly tapped the table, almost as though he were trying to stop himself from laughing. "Tell me what really happened."

His voice. It changed. He was no longer laughing. His voice was hard, cruel, almost menacing.

"I did."

"Ms. Barnette," Mori cleared her throat, leaned forward just enough so that she was more visible in the light that shone above her, "I am a woman of many things. I love my grandchildren. I love my dead husband. I love the stories that my family tells. And I most certainly love a good joke. But what I do no love are liars. I see through you like I see through my son. You lie to hide something. So, perhaps, we spare each other our lies and start thinking of a way to make sure that the time you have left in this world isn't shortened by years. Please… tell us the truth."

Barnette opened her mouth rebuke the woman, but then shut it. It was the truth. But it was not her truth. It was not her feelings on the matter. When they had taken the ship, she believed that they shouldn't have spared them. They should have been killed or held as prisoners. But they were pirates under Magno, a woman of the First Generation. Orders from her were the closest thing anyone got to the words of God.

The pirate narrowed her eyes, her face lost the softness of innocent, and body became relaxed.

Mori smiled.

"It's better to be truthful to one's desires and self. Never forget that. Now, retail your story."

"We raided an old colony ship, I believed the Men called it the Ikazuki, as they were planning to destroy it or something. I wasn't privy to that information. My squad was to land on the craft with the others and take the ship by force. Our Captain, Magno Vivian, ordered that all Men be spared and ejected out into space with Life Pods. I see no reason for this choice, but I believe it's because she has grown soft in her old age. I listen, and wish to not comply."

Barnette paused on baited breath. Neither three spoke a word. Their eyes felt hungry and ravaged her body like a starved person eating food. They were seeking out the lies. She told no lies.

"After we ejected all but three of the men, one who was a doctor, one who was a helmsman, and another who was a pilot, the men fired a pair of missiles at us. Our ship was still docked with the colony ship, and with most of our pilots on board both vessels, we couldn't escape fast enough. That was mostly in part to one of our rookie pilots, Dita, and our Flight Leader, Meia. Meia had returned to the colony ship to find her and help her escape. When the missiles came within range of hitting, the energy source, the real prize we had sought, came to life and warped us to this quadrant of space."

She fell silent after that. Barnette eyed the three in front of her. They remained silent, observing her for any lie. When Kline suddenly sat back in his chair, his eyes less hard, he spoke. "You're a pilot. You don't know the technical verbiage for how all of that happened and how you ended up here, correct?" She nodded. He looked pleased. "I suppose one can't blame a pilot for not knowing how their machines work if they never mess with it. No different then someone learning a new job. How can one be expected to know something if they had never been taught how to do it?"

"But that still leaves the problem of this "Harvester Fleet" that come for us." Church tapped his chin in thought, staring at a few images. He tapped something on the desk and a few images widened. They were images of the Cube-types. "These things have never appeared near us or have ever been something we were made aware of. And you say that they are coming for us?"

"Yes."

"Do you know their place of birth?"

Barnette shook her head.

Church didn't seem surprised by this lack of knowledge. It was like he expected it. "I guess one can't fault you for not knowing everything about your enemy. After all, you are a pilot."

Barnette furrowed her brow. "What do you mean by that? You refer to me as a pilot, which I am, but you act like it holds a second meaning."

"Yet you didn't flinch or show confusion to when we said GPS?" Mori pointed out. Barnette opened her mouth but quickly shut it. "It means little to us for this conversation."

"But," Kline took over with a heavy sigh, "Our pilots know everything before they engage an enemy on any world or colony. They are told what information we have, and in turn, they know what to do. I assume you know enough about your machine to make it run, but not enough to know how to repair it. As such, you work with a need to know basis, and as such, your information, while informative in some areas, is very lacking in others. We understand you are new to this sector of space. It isn't fair to make fun of you for not knowing something about this region when we know nothing of yours."

"Yet you make me sound like an idiot."

"To be fair, you are." Barnette scowled at Church. The man was still serious. "You know nothing of their maker, capabilities, or place of birth, yet you know their desires. One might think that oddly strange, wouldn't you agree?"

Barnette could see it now. It was clear as the revelation on her face.

"Try not to be stupid with your words, Barnette." Mori tapped the hidden buttons on the desk. The projection came to life again, showing battles and other locations that she had been. "Knowing what you know is helpful, but not helpful enough. Until we see this enemy with our eyes, you are nothing more than a mad woman preaching of the end of days."

"But the black-"

"Can be altered," Church cut in. "We've seen it done before. Information where we listened to another and it was proven false. I have no desire to fight a battle I cannot win, least of all an enemy of imagination. You would have us believe that these things are aliens, crafted for the sole purpose of harvesting our body parts and fluids for their own. I ask why? What good could they do for them?"

The pirate closed her eyes. All good points. They made good points. "Will I be sent home? Back to my ship?" She wished she hadn't sounded pleading.

"If you can find a way to get there, you are free to go. But you will not take one of our ships or Guardians."

Barnette felt her world crumble around her. No going home? What about Jura? How would she see her again? Her chest began to tighten as the air in her body left her but wasn't registered returning. The world began to spin and felt something heavy hit her on the shoulders.

Dread.

"We are willing to offer you a penchant until you get on your feet. Housing and food will be provided for you. But until we can find a place, we will select someone for you to stay with. I understand your world is only female and you have a war going on with the men of another. As such, we know of a few people that we can put you with." Church tapped the desk again and box and projections faded, replaced with females of different color and age. Barnette didn't even look. "You can have your gander at the list, but until we have a place for you to stay, you will be staying with someone. These are female crew members and pilots of the ship that brought you here. If you do not wish to name one, we will choose."

Barnette hung her head. Her eyes closed tightly as she cried silently to herself. "Trig…" she mumbled. She never looked to see if she were on the list. But she felt the warmth of light hit her and the room was illuminated. When she glanced up, Kline was gone. Mori was moving towards the door and Church remained behind.

"Very well then. I'll inform Lieutenant Trig of this request and we will start looking for a place. Once you get some time, I'd start learning what you can about our world and jobs to look for. I doubt we can support you for long. Good day, Barnette." He stopped at the door, not opening, and looked to the pilot. "Stay if you want." He then left.

Thursday looked down at her and then to the door. "For what it's worth; I'm sorry that we can't do more." The voice was booming, like a voice of authority, but it sounded sorry. Barnette looked at the helmet, hoping to see the face behind the mask. "Our world is kind, but we are hard. What few pleasures we have are limited, but they are enough."

"But they aren't my world."

He stood a little straighter and reached up, taking his helmet off. A blue and red eye stared down at her behind a mess of brown hair. "I know loss. I've seen it before. But it isn't the end. As long as you don't give up, there is no defeat. There is no loss." He put his helmet back on and promptly left.

Barnette sighed. Don't give up. You could have simply said that. She got to her feet and shambled to the door. Trig was speaking to Church. She spied Barnette and looked rather confused to the idea of what was happening. Before she was next to them, Church gave a salute to Trig and departed. The pilot, Thursday, was nowhere to be seen.

"You're my charge now, huh? Why me, if you don't mind my asking."

Barnette looked her up and down before shrugging, her hands slapping against her side. "You've helped me thus far, even if it was nothing but orders."

"Fair enough. Lightning is more man than woman, you never met Riptide, and I doubt you'd get alone with Stone. And that's only the pilots." They exited the building and stepped out in the sunlight. Trig looked at the sun in disgust. "I hate being here. I like being up in space. No sunlight."

Barnette laughed, despite herself. "Why?" The sun was warm. It was refreshing. It wasn't something they really had on their world. It was warmer here than it was there. They had a star that gave heat, but it was limited.

Trig pulled the door open on the small yellow car and climbed in. Barnette followed. "Rose Park Road," she told the driver. The woman nodded and shut the sliding glass door between them for privacy. "I'm not much for the sun. I like it, but I prefer the void of space."

Barnette couldn't wrap her mind around that logic and decided that silence was best.

The world flew by and the empty buildings they had passed once before in silence were now busy with people. People moved in and out of them with smiles. What few kids were out were young, probably no older than four. Some ran around with little toy versions of the Guardians, having mock battles with other kids. When the buildings disappeared, it was replaced with dense forests and lush hills of golden millet. It was the most beautiful thing Barnette had seen of anything planet side.

"This is probably the one good thing about being home," Trig said. She motioned to something in the distance. Barnette squinted to make it out. A small object that reached up to the sky like a needle was held in place by cables. "That's the rail system we took from the station. When it was created, it churned up a whole lot of water and made this area good farmland. It's about eight hundred acres of farm land on just this side, with more on the other side of it. It's a giant hexagon of farmland that always smells of honey to me."

Barnette slid the window down a bit and sniffed the air. It wasn't honey. It was something else. Like lilies or maybe even freshly baked cakes. It wasn't honey. Not to her anyways.

She rolled the window back up and watched the hillside go by. The world was beautiful now with the hills and golden millet, but it was still foreign to her, even with its natural or unnatural beauty. It made her think of Mejarru and how people had said it could look like. She remembered the images created by others trying to make it livable. It was beautiful, like a painting done by a woman of fame and beauty.

The car came to a stop at a bend in the road. The trees had thinned and the road had turned to gravel at some point in the ride. Barnette exited first, looking around at the new area she'd call her prison. A small house, probably one with only two rooms, sat in the shadow of a large tree. The trunk on it was big enough that Barnette knew it'd take two of her to circle with her hands. The lawn was short and green with a small pathway up to the front steps.

"It's not perfect," Trig walked up beside her, a large duffle bag slung over her shoulder, "but its home. Come on in. I'll show you your room." She patted Barnette on the back. She undid the buttons holding the jacket and took it off as she followed. "I'll see if I have anything else you can wear. I'm sure there's something I outgrew that you can wear before we go to town to get you clothes."

With her free hand, Trig keyed the door and opened it with the aid of her foot. The hinges groaned in protest, but the pilot shouldered through and laughed. "Home sweat hole in the wall!" She laughed and tossed her bag to the ground with one arm while working the dress jacket with the other. "I hate wearing this!" She yanked the coat off and tossed it over a small wooden chair as Barnette carefully entered.

Photos lined the hallway. Each photo was of a different person with Trig at varying ages. Some had more than two people and even more had her and a man in the photo, laughing or yelling at something. When she got to the end, she saw a large photo of nearly ten people. She recognized a few faces in the photo.

"My squad," Trig told her. Barnette turned and faced her before she looked back at the photo. "My family. My squad. Funny, I never once considered them family until about four years ago. We all decided to get a photo together before we started heading out to be pilots. Good times."

Trig started to undue the buttons on her shirt as she walked around the wall, whistling a tune as she did. Barnette followed her into a room with the blinds pulled shut and a large bed in the center of the room. It was rather typical from there, but Barnette noticed a few odd devices of familiar nature on a nightstand.

The pilot tossed her shirt on the bed and finished taking off her uniform. She released a blissful moan as she undid her bra and reached into the closet for a plain blue shirt and a pair of matching blue jeans. She pulled them on and then started to riffle through her clothing in search of something for Barnette to wear.

The pirate looked around the room and then back to the kitchen. It looked bare.

"Try this stuff on."

Barnette turned back to her just in time to see a pair of dark blue jeans fly in her face. Whatever else was thrown either landed perfectly on her or fell to the ground. Barnette removed the pants and stared at the woman. Trig was already in the process of grabbing her uniform to get it ready for something.

Having been used to changing in front of other women, Barnette dropped her clothes she was wearing and started changing on the spot. Trig, stopped what she was doing to watch her get dressed and laughed when Barnette struggled to get the pants on.

"Too small," Barnette told her as she ripped them off. Trig sighed and went back to look in her closet for something. She tossed a pair of black sweatpants her way. Barnette held them up in disgust. "No way!"

"It'll only be for a few hours. Besides," Trig jumped on the bed and laughed, "It's not like it's any better than what you were previously wearing." Barnette moaned in displeasure as she begrudgingly put the pants on. "Let me make a call before we head out."

Barnette watched the odd pilot leave and head for a phone. Not knowing what else to do, Barnette looked around and sighed. So, this is my prison now, huh? This is better than Mejarru. She glanced back to see Trig finishing her call and smiling. What an odd woman.