ALTERNATE TALES OF THE STAR FORCE
STAR BLAZERS---THINK FOR YOURSELF
Being the third part of THE RIKASHA INCIDENT--- BY: Frederick P. Kopetz
ACT THREE--THE WRATH OF THE RIKASHANS
I. THE R'KHELLS LICK THEIR WOUNDS.
January 10, 2202
Cometary Halo of Earth's solar system beyond Brumus
0522 Hours Space-time
Not that far away, near the edge of the solar system, a large number of Rikashan and R'Khell space warships lurked in the outer edges of the asteroid belt as the remnants of the R'Khell squadron under Admiral Varnava's command reappeared out of subspace near the T'Renda itself.
A while later, a solitary R'Khell shuttle was taking Admiral Varnava aboard the R'Khell flagship T'Renda for a meeting that the R'Khell Admiral didn't expect to survive. He didn't expect to live because he had noticed that Kierzden was rather miffed, to say the least, once he had come back with what was left of his squadron rather than gone down fighting as custom demanded he should.
However, Varnava noticed that Kierzden's mood had undergone an abrupt change as soon as he came aboard and reported on the bridge with a solemn salute to Kierzden.
"Admiral Kierzden," said Varnava. "We fought hard, but we were overwhelmed by the Star Force. I must accept my death and offer my life in..."
"Negative on that babble," said Kierzden quietly. "I already reported to the Baron about you...no...about us"
"The Baron's here? NOW?"
"I take it you didn't notice the battleship B'eoneraze when you came in. Yes, Cha'rif is here. And I have been ordered to apologize to him myself. You have not been ordered to see him at this time, Commodore."
"And?" asked Varnava as his heart leapt.
"Listen well to me," said Kierzden, who was suddenly rather pale. "The Baron has discovered what we were up to, and I am ready to accept full blame for it. So, chances are, you will live...and you will probably have my command before the day ends."
"Sir...I am so..."
"Stay your empty words. Since my forces and submarines engaged them first, I was called to account myself by Baron Cha'rif. To that end, our watch upon the Argo has been changed. As he has commanded, in the name of his God, and not necessarily that of his Lord Zaden..."
"But he said..."
"His loyalty is, first, to his Deity, his Dark Lord," said Kierzden. "The Warbringer, as our first loyalty should be. Since He rules us by His examples, His will is higher even than that our temporal ruler himself. To that end, I have been ordered to make penance before Him and the Baron. This is because I was told by Cha'rif that we did not look closely enough, to see if His so-called Prophet Gralnacz was truly a Prophet of the Dark Lord's or not. Cha'rif does not feel he was a true Prophet, my friend."
"So...what?"
"I was told I could make this penance on Earth, but not even I choose to confront Him in the guise of His Prophetess. Not even I like out-and-out traitors to their own races such as Yvona Josiah. To that end, when I depart, I have been told to leave you in command here, along with what is left of Battle Task Force III. My whole fleet must come with me."
"But..."
"You have nine ships left. That should be enough to track the Argo with. You can also take two of our subs with you, and you have Ka'mok on board one of them, friend. If you find a spot where you can strike the Argo without any interference from the rest of the Earth fleet, hit her again and damage her as payback, unless Cha'rif orders otherwise. My last orders. Understood?"
"Aye, sir. Aye."
II. SURVIVORS
January 10, 2202
Space Battleship Argo
In Dock at Triton Base
0817 Hours Space-time
A while
after the battle, all of the Medevac shuttles, landing boats, and lifeboats
safely landed on Triton near the
Furthermore, the Marines also had charge of an alien prisoner, the sole survivor of a R'Khell squad caught in Earth fire on the liner. All of his squad had somehow managed to kill themselves except for this man. After seeing to their survivors, Lieutenant Nova Wildstar and Ensign Paul Hemsford saw to it that this prisoner was secured in the brig on Triton, where he would be confined until a team of specialists would examine and interrogate him. Nova meant to be with that team, if possible.
In the meantime, four destroyers escorted the Argo towards a repair dock. She was still smoking from her battle wounds, and she was accompanied to Triton by the escorts and by the beat-up frigate Erwin Rommel.
Captain Wildstar took down a damage report from Sandor, who estimated the damage would take only nine hours to fix and received some reports from other Group Leaders and department heads. Then, Derek made a private report to the Commander in the communications room. After he was done, he went to his cabin to update the ship's log, deal with other paperwork, and have some tea.
While Derek had his head
buried in his paperwork, the cabin door opened. He looked up, breathing a
visible sigh of relief when he noticed that his visitor was Mrs. Wildstar.
Needless to say, he gladly set aside his paperwork. “Thank
heavens you’re alive,” said Captain Wildstar as he threw his arms around his
wife.
“Derek,
I’m so glad to be back,” said Nova.
“I
was afraid I lost you for a bit, Nova,” he said as he held her close. A tear
ran down his cheek.
“Derek,”
said Nova in response as she hugged him back. “It’s okay. Someone must have
been looking out for me.”
"Glad you're back,
Nova. Just tell me how it went out there?" asked Captain Wildstar as he
continued to hold and caress his wife, taking in her scent her warmth; the
warmth he thought he’d lost forever…”
"It was
horrible," said
Nova as she shook her head, fighting for a second to hold back tears. She
roughly wiped her dark brown eyes and said with a hitch in her voice,
"Derek.... We only got a few survivors back."
"That doesn't sound
good," said Captain Wildstar. He let go of Nova and then pushed his chair
up the track towards the wide window. “I’ll have to hold you more later…you
know…..duty…”
“Yes,” said Nova with a
deep hitch in her voice.
The view outside on the icy satellite looked as windy and bleak as his mood. He turned the chair around to face Nova and sat down with his eyes closed. He took a deep breath and said, "How many did we save?"
"Well, out of the rather small
complement of 380 passengers and crew aboard for her maiden voyage, out of a
possible 450, forty-eight got out in the liner's lifeboats, and we rescued a
total of forty with the two Medevac boats and other boats that came back. It
was awful, Derek! We didn't get a lot of them out..."
"You're right; that's not a lot," mused Captain Wildstar sadly. "But it could've been much worse if the cruise had been fully booked at regular rates with 450 people aboard."
"You don't have to remind me of that," replied Nova. "Furthermore, they captured a little boy right from under our noses, along with other prisoners. We tried to save the boy, but...we failed to rescue him. TWICE. Ensign Hemsford feels horrible, and so do I. We messed up, Derek! How could we have let so many of them slip away like that? We...we didn't do our jobs!" she said as she put her face in her hands and sobbed softly for a moment.
"Nova, don't blame yourself," said Wildstar as he grasped her hands. "You tried, and your immediate party was overwhelmed by the force you met in there. Think of the lives you and the others from the Argo and the other ships succeeded in saving!"
"I know, but...I," sniffed Nova.
"There," whispered Derek as he got up and just held his wife. "Just...take a deep breath...like you taught me..."
Nova did so, and felt a bit better. "You heard about the prisoner, didn't you, Derek?"
Derek nodded. "The Commander asked me about him when I talked to him at 0730. I was surprised, because that was news to me."
"They're going to try to interrogate him at 1100. Want to come along?"
"I might as well, since we're going to be here until 1700," shrugged Derek. "I suggested that we try to make those repairs underway so we can catch what's left of that enemy fleet and catch the stragglers that are still out there, according to the Akagi."
"So...why are we here, Derek?"
"Good question. Sandor and Orion suggested that the repairs we need could be better made here, as opposed to taking twenty hours underway, possibly in hostile territory. Since we have a safe port here and can get shipshape more quickly, I guess we'd better make good use of it," said Captain Wildstar, who was still holding Nova's hands.
The buzzer went off at one of the Captain's communications ports on the cabin console a moment later. Derek let go of Nova's hands and ran over to answer it.
"Captain's quarters," said Captain Wildstar.
"Captain! There's an urgent call coming in on video!" cried Homer. "You'd better get down to the bridge."
"I'll be there right away," said Derek.
"I'll bet it's probably just Commodore Pavlovich," smiled Nova.
"How do you know?"
"When I was the Commander's adjutant, I was always taking social calls from him...you know, sending his regards and regrets and all. Let's go."
When Derek and Nova got out of the lift a short while later, Captain Wildstar turned to Homer and said, "Now, shall we deal with this trifling call from the Commodore, Homer?" sighed Wildstar.
"Sir...it's more important than that. It's not him, Wildstar," said Homer, who was sweating just a little.
"Then, who IS it?" demanded Wildstar as he looked up at the screen as an image began to appear. "Is it the commander? The President?"
"No...it's just..."
"Don't keep it a secret, Homer!" snapped Venture.
"Well...you guys will see," whined Homer. "Switching to video now."
The image quickly resolved into that of a tall, dignified personage whose appearance made everyone on the bridge gasp for a second. Not because he was a threat now...but because his appearance on the screen was rather...shall we say...unexpected?
"Desslok!" gasped Wildstar as he looked up into the dark eyes of his old arch-rival turned personal friend.
"It's been a little while,
Wildstar. I trust you and Nova are well?"
"Yes...we are."
"I'm pleased. But I'm afraid I called you for a more serious reason. It concerns...our mutual investigation."
"...Yes, that." said Wildstar as a bit of mistrust showed on his face. "May I ask what else you know about the Varalndus...or Beta Valentis System, Desslok? I have just received formal permission from the Earth Commander to investigate the area, especially after what happened a few hours ago," he said, approaching the subject indirectly.
"I take it something happened when the wave of subspatial disturbance hit your solar system?"
"Yes, Desslok. Something certainly happened. We were attacked by alien forces known as the Technomugar, who were aided by a vicious race known as the R'Khell. These Technomugars are cyborgs, it seems, although the R'Khells are definitely humanoid lifeforms somewhat similar to us. Their commander, named Gralnacz, attacked the Argo and a civilian spaceliner that some other Earth ships and we were escorting to safety from the approaching disturbance."
"In light of our cooperation on the Varalndus matter," continued Captain Wildstar, "I'm cleared to tell you that Gralnacz forced us into the disturbance, and we emerged almost three hundred years in the past. We had a struggle to get back, but we were aided in that struggle and in our attempt to keep Gralnacz from destroying our own past by two Time Lords, beings of immense power and wisdom."
"The Time Lords?" asked Desslok with raised eyebrows. "You mean they truly exist?"
"They do. Two of them helped us. Both were very eccentric, but both were brilliant and powerful, Desslok. One was known as "Melvin Seadragon". The other had no name, but he called himself "The Doctor."
"You have met with legends from out of tales," said Desslok in a low voice. "The Doctor was a semi-mythical figure who looms large in our folktales from ancient times. Some tales say he was incredibly good, others say he was unspeakably evil, worse than Zordar himself. Luckily, I daresay you met him on one of his good days."
"I think we did. He was very helpful, Desslok. Luckily, we have just reported to Earth Defense and have permission from the Commander to speak to you about these battles and events, along with permission to meet with you near the planet. We also fought a great battle with the R'Khell when we emerged from warp in our time."
"It's amazing that you lived, Wildstar. Once more, I compliment you on your bravery and wisdom. Most ships that have passed through such a rift have never returned. I know that four of mine didn't."
"Four of yours...didn't?"
"Yes. We are now 100 lightyears closer to the Varalndus System than we were yesterday. I lost three destroyers and one carrier to that accursed disturbance. I am cautioning you to be careful as you approach the Varalndus System, Wildstar. That is part of the reason I called."
"And...the other reasons were?"
"To give you some more intelligence, and to arrange a place and time for our meeting."
"Thank you. The intelligence, first, Desslok?"
"I thought you'd ask for that first," said Desslok with a mildly annoyed smile on his blue face. "This is what else we have learned about that region of space, based upon scans by a destroyer that got within four hundred lightyears of the area. The planet is solid, it has life on it, and it is cooling rapidly. In ten of your days, it will cool to the point that it can no longer support life, if, indeed, it doesn't explode nine days from now. The personage on the planet is growing increasingly agitated and demands our presence there. I intend to be there in seven days, scanning for more of those deadly disturbances and also scanning for any possible action by these new enemies you spoke of. When can you be there?"
"It will take us half a day to repair the Argo, Desslok. However, using the same precautions that you use, and keeping in touch with you as communication conditions permit, we expect that we can be there seven and a half days after we leave, on the 19th. This will be as we planned, and as the Commander has given us a window on which to report to our Government on what is happening there."
Desslok nodded. "So I can expect to see you in eight days?"
"Yes, Leader Desslok," said Wildstar.
"Eight days, then. Hopefully, conditions will not grow worse. I look forward in seeing you in eight days. May the beings that rule space look upon you with favor, and may you have a good trip."
"The same to you, Desslok," said Captain Wildstar. "And...may God bless you and your people."
"I thank you," said Desslok. "I look forward to our meeting."
And, at that, Desslok's image faded from the Argo's main screen.
"What do you think of that?" said Sandor.
"It sounds somewhat ominous," said Wildstar. "I think we'd better be back in touch with the Commander PDQ."
Sandor just nodded at that.
III. SICKBAY
Space Battleship Argo
In Dock on Triton
January 10, 2202
0930 Hours space-time
Later on, in the Argo's Sickbay, Dr. Sane and Nova were busy treating the wounded as the clock clicked over to 0930. Conroy, of course, was among them. Doctor Sane considered it a miracle that the Flight Group Leader had gotten his plane back in one piece, as well as himself. He had two good slams and gashes in his head and a deep gash in his right arm. He had almost lost enough blood to become unconscious on the way back, even with his bandage, and he was now receiving a transfusion. But that was the least of Sane's worries.
The arm was.
"I tell you, don't argue with me. You need surgery, on that right arm and you need it soon, young man." snapped Doctor Sane.
"But who's going to run the Flight Group while I'm recovering?" groaned Conroy.
"Hardy can do well enough until you recover."
"But we had enough wounded that we're short-handed all around. Six pilots were wounded in this battle, and five never got back. We're down almost one whole squadron!"
"Then you won't like what I have to tell you."
"What?"
"Nova?"
"Conroy, the Doctor has examined your right arm thoroughly with the scanners. You'll need orthopedic surgery to get it working correctly again, and you'll need it at once. We're operating on you tonight. It's going to take at least four days for you to recover afterwards, maybe five. He and the Flight Surgeon are pulling your certification until we're convinced that the arm has healed and you're well enough to fly again," said Nova as she snapped off one of her surgical gloves and put it in a pocket of her white Medical minidress.
"What?"
"I'm really sorry, Conroy. Both of us are. But, you'll be needed again. Right now, we want you to concentrate on getting better and getting ready for surgery," said Nova with a smile. "The Captain told me we can get along without you for a few days."
"Consider it a nice long leave," smiled Doctor Sane.
"We're at war! This stinks!" muttered Conroy.
"Take it easy, Conroy. You'll be all right, and so will Earth."
"That's easy for you to say, Doc. Damn, that's easy for you to say. If only I could describe the kind of plane that screwed me up..."
"You will when the Captain debriefs you here in Sickbay, tomorrow, Shawn," said Nova as she straightened her dress. "Now you take it easy, and rest. Doctor, when are we going to start?"
"1300. I want to get in there before scar tissue begins forming."
"Hmmm, I have some things the Captain wants done, but I'm sure I can get back here by 1200. Then IQ and I can prep the OR for you and we can get him under in about forty-five minutes..." Nova then motioned Dr. Sane aside and asked, "How bad is it, in your opinion?"
"He's going to need regeneration of a few tendons," he muttered as he looked over his chart.
"That's at least four hours," sighed Nova. "Well, after we finish looking over these others, I'd better take a quick break for some nice strong coffee and maybe grab a bite to eat so I'll be in good shape on when I get back down here," she said, glancing down at her boots for a second. "Sounds like we have a long day ahead."
"What does Wildstar want you to do?"
"Accompany him to the interrogation of the R'Khell prisoner on the base."
"Hmmm...maybe I should come, too," said Dr. Sane. "This might be interesting. It's been a while since I've been near an unknown enemy alien."
In another part of the base, aboard the Colin Powell, Lieutenant Ember Tyson, now officially in command as the new Captain of the frigate, sighed as she stood near the bunk of Amy Girard, a member of her crew, in the ship's small dispensary. Amy had been severely wounded on the frigate's bridge during the battle, and she had just died while holding Ember's hand and asking her to send her last wishes to her family.
Tyson looked nauseated and rather tired as the Colin Powell's Pharmacist's Mate gently removed Amy's limp, bloody hand from hers and covered up her body with a sheet. A smear of blood stained Ember's white peacoat at a point where Amy had been trying to grasp it right before she passed on.
"How many did we lose altogether?" asked Ember as she looked at the compartment, which had several sheet-covered bunks lined up on one side, not far from the bunks that still held the living.
"Five," said the Pharmacist's mate, a young man known as Ensign Harev Ghulman. "The others...well..."
"I think I understand, Mister," said Tyson. "We got our butts kicked out there. I got permanent command of this ship. We'll be here for three weeks making repairs. However, if we come out of this smelling like anything except shit, I'll be really surprised."
"What do you mean, ma'am? We fought hard."
"They say I did all right. I guess I did as well as I could, under the circumstances. But as a collective...I don't think we'll look that good. We lost a ritzy liner...and, as I heard, over two hundred people. It's not going to look that good in the end. We'll probably get assigned to some area where almost nothing ever happens, like patrol of the Minerva asteroid belt, or something like that. Those aliens are crazy. I wonder where they're from?"
Ghulman shrugged.
"We'll, I'd sure like to know where they're from," she said.
III. A SNOWY MORNING
Earth--The Federal
Megalopolis:
Earth Defense Headquarters
Chamber of the Earth Defense Council
January 10, 2202
1000 Hours space-time
Unknown to Lieutenant
Tyson, the new skipper of the Colin Powell, the Earth Defense Council
was in the midst of debating that very question in the middle of a blizzard
that was blowing in the streets of the Megalopolis outside the windows of EDF
Headquarters in the very center of the Megalopolis on Great Island.
At the moment, the Commanding
General Singleton's heart felt as cold as the storm outside while Piper
Sandberg, Ph.D., who knew everything about every alien race in creation,
rattled on and on about his feelings about the entire business, expressing the
feelings of his learned Xeno-Cultural Bureau.
"General," he said to General Stone, "You asked my opinion, so I'm giving it to you. I think the Star Force is the biggest loose cannon we have out there right now. For all we know, if they hadn't started shooting from their hip last night, we might've been left alone by those raiders."
"Nonsense!" said Stone. "I thought the same thing that you did, until we received enough intelligence from the Argo and from other vessels that would seem to indicate that our enemies definitely started this whole business."
"Well, why doesn't our Genius Boy Captain out there follow orders?" said Lt. General William F. Weiner, the Military Attaché to the Senate Armed Services Committee. "Singleton, you sent him out there to investigate the appearance of that planet and to investigate the phenomena surrounding it. What does he do? He goes out there and apparently sees how many of these R'Khells he can aggravate into attacking this liner! As a result, we have a couple hundred people dead..."
"With many survivors who would have frozen to death out in space if Wildstar had done nothing," snapped Stone. "Thanks to his quick action under fire, this wasn't a total loss."
"Hogwash! Wildstar acted on his own authority and acted like some young tin God and overstepped his judgment," snapped Weiner.
"Because he was ordered to," said the Commander. "You were here when we passed that resolution last night, along with that commendation for Wildstar."
"I left for that," said Sandberg insolently. "Remember, General?"
Probably a good thing you did, Piper, thought Singleton irritably.
"What about those convoys?" said Weiner. "Sir, didn't another one get torpedoed this morning near Uranus?"
"Yes," said Singleton. "Do you have the full report on that incident?"
"No."
"We only have a preliminary report," said Singleton, "But, at about 0230 this morning, a convoy of three ore freighters on their way in from Brumus was torpedoed without warning near the Uranus orbit and their escorting frigates were destroyed. Only one space submarine was caught by a patrol operating from the carrier Akagi, before she warped in to aid the Argo, but it was of an unknown design and red in color, like the ones Captain Wildstar reported seeing. The bulk ore carriers Star of the East, Sheng Luo, and Habana were lost, along with their crews, cargo, and both of their escorts, the frigates Matthew B. Ridgway and George Grivas. Total loss of life, over three hundred persons, and Wildstar was nowhere near the area," snorted Singleton. "It's an undeclared war by an alien race, and this right after Gernitz of the Cometines almost waltzed into the solar system and finished what Zordar started."
We must find out who is behind this," said Kohler of Intelligence. "The only hint we have is that a transmission was intercepted by a pilot flying from the Argo. He said the enemy identified themselves as 'the R'Khell'."
"That, and this action report from Wildstar," said Singleton as his female aide, in a white Headquarters uniform and skirt, began to pass some folders around the table. "You'll turn to the section marked "Assessment of Threat." In that section of the report, it is reported that troopers wearing armor similar to the sort seen by Wildstar in Earth's past were seen massacring people without provocation on the Westhampton Beach this morning. The report seems to indicate that these are massive lifeforms from a heavy-gravity planet. One has been captured alive, found similar to us, and is being held prisoner on Triton Base. However, others seen in Earth's past with similar equipment were said to be cyborgs with strange powers. Two branches of one alien race? And a pair of pirate raids connected with strange natural phenomena or a war? We don't know. Plus, we have a terrorist threat here on Earth."
"Which is?" asked Weiner.
"More doings by code-name 'Evil Fairy'," said Kohler.
"You mean Yvona Josiah, head of that cult?" asked Weiner.
"We mean Yvona Josiah, head of a religious terrorist organization," said Kohler.
"Well, what are we doing about her if she's such a potential threat?" asked Sandberg. "And, is she connected to this, or is this some example of how 'bad things happen in threes'?"
"We've already infiltrated two of Evil Fairy's front organizations," said General Kohler, the EDF's Intelligence chief. "Our agents there tell us her current whereabouts are unknown: something about her having "gone abroad to the desert to seek a revelation," said Kohler dubiously.
"What are you doing to watch her?" asked Singleton.
"Sir, we've sent
agents to the
"I trust your shutdown is effective?" asked Sandberg.
"It is. And don't speak to me in that tone." said the Commander.
Sandberg just stared at Singleton for a moment, clearing his throat and dropping his gaze only when he saw the rest of the Council seemed to be against him.
"Needless to say, we will continue investigating Evil Fairy," said Kohler. "I'm sure we should have her arrested before long. After all, there's no way they can steal a space cruiser, for God's sake."
"Agreed, sir," replied Stone to the Commander's withering glance. "We have our docks and Defense Force facilities on earth secured. Evil Fairy can't hide from Kohler's security forces forever."
"Thank you," nodded the Commander.
"Now, what do we do?" asked Weiner.
"Wait...for further intelligence from the Star Force," said Kohler. "Such as, what our enemies might be up to."
"Shall we adjourn?" asked Singleton.
"Yes," said Sandberg. "Especially as we have nothing further to discuss at the moment."
IV. RIKASHA
The Meeting Hall of the Council of Nine
Jak'LAN Fortress:
Planet Rikasha
12 Sha'netz: Warbringer's Year 3218
January 10, 2202
1025 Hours space-time
One of the ironies of
Destiny was that just as the Earth Defense Council was adjourning its meeting
in the Megalopolis, the Ruling Council of Nine of the Planet Rikasha and the
Rikashan/R'Khell Imperial Union was just beginning the 802nd War Meeting of the
Lord Zaden's reign. At that hour of the morning in
the Megalopolis, the business day of the city was just beginning to come into
swing. However, here, a white-robed muezzin on one of the sand-colored minarets
of the
As far as they were concerned, they would have a good deal to pray about this morning. Mother Rikasha, the center of this strange, warlike, Empire, was a planet that only a lunatic would consider a paradise.
Located far in the northwestern regions of the Milky Way Galaxy, far from the galactic core and over 80,000 lightyears away from Earth, Rikasha was a hot, dry, dusty world for the most part. It had once been blue and beautiful like Earth, but the Great Wars that had occurred over 3200 years ago had changed all of that.
Ekogaru had caused the Great Wars long ago in his bid to become absolute master of Rikasha. His war had become nuclear in a hurry and had ruined the planet. Now, most of the planet was a desert, even though there were a few salty seas scattered here and there, and the planet even had a few rivers and fresh-water lakes.
But, water was a rare and precious thing on Rikasha. The lack of it was one of the things that had driven the forces of the resurgent, mutated Rikashan race deep into space to build a new, barbaric Empire on the ashes of the once-peaceful Confederacy that Rikasha had dominated ages ago in the days of its enlightenment.
The Rikashan Empire was ruled by a Council of Nine that was headed by a nominally all-powerful figure known as the Lord of Rikasha. However, like any other Rikashan, the Lord had to kowtow to the powerful, established forces of the state religion, headed by its High Priestess, the Prophetess, the only woman who had the right to sit on the Council of Nine with the men.
Outside, the muezzin continued to chant, with the sound carrying through to this underground Council Chamber by way of a speaker that sat near the black throne at the head of the council table.
"Grrrrrahhhhhak, that sound is annoying me. Don't those R'Khell caste fanatics ever shut the hell up?" said the throne's occupant as he reached up to tickle the lazily kicking bare foot of the light orange-skinned girl who was sitting in his large, fat lap feeding him the Rikashan equivalent of grapes from a silver platter.
"M'Lord, the Priestess won't like it if...."
"Trala, the Priestess isn't here yet. And by no means, I wager, is she aware enough to know that I'm just shutting the muezzin off so I can hear you giggle as I tickle you under thy little veil. Take it off again, wenchling!"
Trala shut off the speaker and giggled again as the Lord T'Grish Zaden, the dusky orange-brown skinned political and military ruler of the Empire, poked her through her little garment: a translucent shift-like garment that fell daintily over her otherwise naked shoulders and form like a nymph's veil.
Trala was rather cute: she was about Nova Wildstar's height, build, and age, with a very pretty mane of sable hair that flew everywhere as she laughed, more or less covering up a few bits of her that the poncho didn't.
Zaden, on the other hand, looked absolutely nothing like Nova Wildstar. For one thing, he was, of course, male. For another thing, he looked rather gross for a royal head of state. He was about thirty years older than the young Baron Anton Cha'rif, and he looked it.
"Lord
Zaden" by F.P. Kopetz. Character design
(c) 2001 by F.P. Kopetz
Lord Zaden was a wasted-looking figure, with drooping jowls, a limp dark mustache. He also had, a greasy, half-bald pate, triple chin and quadruple gut that not even his braided pure white uniform or sable cloak could hide. His piggish green-on-green eyes glittered as he looked down at Trala.
With an evil leer, he began to let his hand run down Trala's stomach until he reached the place where the hem of her mini-shift had hiked up as she had kicked. Just as his hand crept near Trala's usually hidden pleasures, the door to the chamber whizzed open.
"Having fun, m'lord?" hissed the figure who walked in. He was a bearded, wild-haired man whose single eye gleamed with a fanatical glee, with the glee of his other maimed eye long ago hidden behind his dark eyepatch. He was Lecha Voton, the First Marshal of Rikasha. Clad in a white and blue uniform similar to Zaden's, he was the head of the Empire's armed forces. He was not being disrespectful to Zaden, for he and T'Grish were old friends.
"Aye," growled Zaden in a deep voice that sounded like a bullfrog's croak. "Do you want to dispute me? You want her, you old filth?" he said with a chuckle.
"Just wondering, M'Lord. Wasn't it lads in their twenties you fancied last meeting?"
"He was an exception. Slaughtered him myself, too, right in my bedchamber. Then he was prepared for feasting. Didn't know what hit him," roared Zaden.
"So that's what we ate at Duke Ti'inan's palace that night!" snarled Voton as he recalled this latest example of decadence among some of the Rikashan upper class. The Rikashan nobility was now becoming suffused with a moral corruption that could have made the decadence of the ancient Terran Imperial courts of Nero or Caligula seem tame in comparison.
Trala gritted her teeth a little, wondering if she'd ever find herself in that kind of a situation. After a moment, though, she judged she was safe for the present as the other members of the Council came in.
Duke J'hirel Daka, one of the six Great Dukes who habitually sat on the Council as heads and representatives of the esteemed Great Houses of this semi-feudal Empire, came in next. He was the head of the Empire's planetary defense forces under Voton's orders. He was also a fat man, but looked a bit more dignified than Zaden, given that he had a snowy white beard and wild hair. He was also the head of the M'hellard Duchy on Rikasha, a region that comprised the great warship yards and research and design plants both on and off the planet on other planetary bases of the Empire. He wore a grey uniform like Voton's.
Duke Oab Katros came in behind him. He was a longhaired, thin-faced man with an evil grin and a scarred face. He was quite devious and brutal, being the head of the D'lakharrizul, or the DLH; the Empire's state secret police.
His province, the K'Tranchia Duchy, contained many of the mines and great irrigated plantations on and off-planet the Empire planet depended upon, and he was also the single biggest slaveholder in the Empire. He had a nasty habit of paroling many of his own prisoners by buying them, hence "mercifully" setting them free from the concentration camps while forcing them to work for him in his mines or farms.
Behind Katros came Duke-Kalif Argen V'chel. Duke V'chel was a black-clad R'jkharraz mystic, and he was a thin-faced bald man who didn't speak up that much at these meetings except to offer insights of various kinds. His planetary realm, the fiefdom of Sh'radaga, was largely open desert filled with wandering Bedouin-like tribesmen who still lived off the land with the flocks as they did in the old days. His planetary fiefs were also largely desert, and, of all the Dukes, he was the one who occupied his palace in his capital of Takandrah the least, preferring to wander either the Sea of Stars with his fleet or the Rikashan dunes seeking insights. Lately, very few people knew what this mystic thought of things, for he had become closer than ever.
Next, there came the gross, fat figure of His Majestic Eminence, (by his own proclamation), the Duke Micran Sh'rande. This huge, waddling Duke, whose face was covered with oozing boils, came accompanied by a nine-year old slave boy dressed in a ragged loincloth. Taken from his parents, the boy's sole job was to carry and replenish the tray of breads and food that this strange Duke liked to eat from almost constantly. Sh'rande was being charitable to the boy today, for yesterday, he had made him come into the Council in only his skin. His planetary realms included farms, fishing planets, and the like.
Duke Sh'rande
was the leader of
Finally, Zaden's own forces had to enter the border region to put an end to it while Sh'rande and the Duke of Sherikhan Duchy were "encouraged" to sign a peace agreement by Zaden and Katros. Most of the other nobles thought that Sh'rande would be a prime target for assassination if he didn't change his tune shortly. However, he seemed to amuse Zaden.
Duke V'Ghel Denstra came in next. The youngest of the Dukes and almost a member of the lower echelon of the Empire's Dukes, who only held one or two worlds each, he was a clean-shaven man in his late forties. His province, the Olvarria Duchy, was a trading province, and he appreciated rapid, swift military actions that would further the homeworld's trade with other planets within the Imperial Union.
Duke Katros also had a nice, big dossier on this smart young upstart. In this dossier, he considered Denstra a potential threat to Zaden's rule, but not much of a threat at present, since he was a man of learning who currently kept quiet.
Finally, the last of the current six Great Dukes strode in. He was Duke Sta'gin Cha'rif, the elderly, white-mustachioed ruler of Sherikhan Duchy, which bordered the Capital Region of Rikala.
His Duchy contained both a salt sea and a freshwater lake, and was one of the more pleasant Duchies of the planet. The same held for the lands he held off-planet as part of his Duchy, as did all of the others, but his House administered some of the richest planets of the Empire, and the best run. Some thought that Sherikhan Duchy could someday well be a great stellar Empire in its own right if it ever broke free from Rikasha.
Sherikhan Duchy was also one of the more internally peaceful Duchies of the Empire, for Duke Cha'rif ruled in a somewhat more just manner than many of the others.
While Katros considered him a threat, the old Duke was at least careful enough to obey the laws and offer loyalty to his kinsman, T'Grish Zaden. However, recently, Cha'rif had rued the day he had supported Zaden's bid for the throne twenty-two years ago rather than accepted the throne that he had been offered at that time but rejected because he had then felt himself too old to become ruler at fifty-three. There were times that he felt his heir, Anton, could handle the job he had left undone, but he had voiced that thought to few as of yet...not even to his own son. He knew how news traveled in this dark Empire.
Trala got up off Lord Zaden's lap and begged leave to go as the other Dukes filed in. Zaden dismissed her with a curt nod, motioning to a side door. She bowed, took the grape-like fruit, and tiptoed out with a barefoot grace totally unlike the leaden walks of the booted feet of the members of the Council, all except one, whose presence they were awaiting as they stood behind their seats.
As the last of the Dukes came in, Zaden himself flicked on the speaker again and made sure his throne was facing towards the portal, although he didn't get up from it.
The automatic black doors whizzed open a moment later and all of the members of the Council save Zaden bowed their heads in reverence as the final member of the Council appeared.
Her walk was graceful, although it was a walk that meant business..
She was Marda, the High Priestess and Prophetess of the Rikashan religion and leader of the R'Khell caste whose representatives had just created so much havoc near Earth. Unlike the others, she now wore a burgundy uniform that served her as a minidress. She wore a short black cape, black open-toed gladiator boots, and walked in holding her silver helmet and face-mask, decorated with its blue plume. Her delicate orange-skinned Rikashan features were beautiful, and her hair was dark and pretty enough that few people knew or guessed she was a Technomugar cyborg like Gralnacz. And, unknown to most of the Council, she was Ekogaru's physical as well as spiritual eyes within this Council chamber, for she was in psionic contact with her Overlord at the moment, being the sole Technomugar there.
Zaden, unknown to even himself, had recently become a puppet Lord of a High Council manipulated by someone else and a quisling ruler surviving on borrowed time. For, soon, the day would come when Lord Ekogaru himself would reclaim Rikasha...in person...as his own personal capital for the Milky Way he expected to have under his heel in less than a millenium. Then, Zaden would only be useful for the new Overlord of the Milky Way as a toy.
Everyone kept their heads bowed until Marda sat down, banging her staff once on the floor as she did so. Then, after a pause, she turned to Zaden and said, "What is your bidding, My Lord?"
"I would know the will of the gods, so that we can be guided today."
"They are not pleased: and the Warbringer, in particular is not pleased with our race. For behold, I have been in touch with Him and with our R'jkharraz, including he who is in command there from afar, even though his enemies have not yet met him. I mean thy son, Duke, Cha'rif. We have suffered a grave defeat today. Many of my loyal paladins, my priest-warriors who wear the scarlet and the burgundy that I wear have come to grief and have gone to their ends. And, this is all due to one ship."
Marda stood, pointing her right hand towards the center of the table. Her eyes glowed for a minute before a bolt of blue light shot forth from her hand. The light beam stopped over the center of the table, and widened into a ball of light that dimmed into a three-dimensional astral projection of space. Finally, in the middle of that astral projection, a space battleship appeared as it cruised through space.
"I am not sure if all of you have seen this ship, yet," intoned Marda as she continued in her aristocratic, cultured soprano. "This, my nobles, is the Terran space battleship Argo. The Warbringer himself has noticed this ship, and He curses it, for it interferes with His interests on Pellias! With all respect to the Duke Cha'rif, it defeated a major part of the Fourth Sherikhan Group all by itself. Yet, do not blame the young Baron, for he was not there directly at the time, even though he ordered the attack in a rash manner. I only hope he can redeem himself in the next few days."
"Will he?" demanded Voton.
"That has not been given unto me, my friend," said Marda with barely disguised contempt.
"What is the current state of the Fourth Sherikhan Group?" asked Katros.
"They're at war," said Marda.
"What?" said Zaden. "I didn't give your kid permission to start a new holy war, Sta'gin!" snapped Zaden. "Or maybe the clergy really did it?" he snapped, leering at Marda. "With all respect to His Name, Marda, your R'Khell caste seems to be a bloody lot of varlets! Why don't they leave these little planets alone?"
"My Lord says that the Baron began this on his own," said Marda. "Yet, my caste is using his impetuosity for our greater good," smiled Marda. Unknown to everyone else, she was lying through her teeth, for she had incited the R'Khell priests to attack Earth without any orders from Baron Cha'rif himself! Baron Cha'rif, so far, was only in the area to guard Pellias.
"Lord, spare the Baron. He means well," pleaded Sta'gin Cha'rif.
"Spared," coughed Zaden. "Your boy's useful to us, even if he's crazy," said Zaden as he twirled a finger next to his temple. Some of the assembled Dukes laughed. A stare from Marda silenced the laughter.
"M'Lord. The Baron currently has forty-two ships remaining in the Pellias region," said Duke Cha'rif. "He has requested reinforcement of an extra thirty ships to make up for this loss, and I will send those to him from our Duchy, if the Lord grants me leave to do so."
"Granted," snapped Zaden. "Now, how are his forces disposed?"
"I was told just before this meeting," said the Duke Cha'rif, "...that the Baron is preparing a carrier task force of twenty vessels to pursue the Argo and hound her with its planes, if needed. This is just as he has been doing with other Terran forces elsewhere near the region of Terra. However, he hopes to obviate the need for further attacks by convincing the crew of the Argo, known as the Star Force, of his good intentions. Then he hopes to "withdraw" for a time to protect Pellias, from which he hopes to lure the Star Force away from. He needs these additional forces as surety in case things go wrong. I agreed to this when we last spoke, Lord. Hence, a second small squadron of ten ships, led by the battlecruiser H'Jana, will leave the sector tomorrow, and will head back towards the Empire, hopefully to be joined by B'eoneraze herself as she escorts the Argo or simply any captured prisoners from the Argo towards the Empire and Rikasha. The remaining twelve ships, aided by the thirty reinforcements we sent, will continue to secure Pellias until the planet explodes due to its own forces."
"What will the Baron do then?" said Zaden.
"Then, he anticipates returning to Durakalis Base with his fleet. After he receives the requisite victory celebrations, he begs leave to take all of the Sherikhan Groups except the Fifth and Seventh, and he begs leave for reinforcements so he can begin a new conquest in earnest, extending our territory even further and squelching this threat to our lowest flanks."
"What does he beg leave to attack?" asked Voton.
"Terra itself, my Marshal," said Cha'rif with a bow. "He feels that it can be dealt with through diplomacy, showing his force as a threat, or by quick attack. Their forces are small, and they have just barely kept their freedom after a major war with forces from the Andromeda Galaxy. They were aided in the last minute by a remnant of a once-mighty force they defeated from the Great Magellenic Cloud, known as Gamilon."
"So that's what happened to the Gamilons?" laughed Zaden. "Their mighty Empire brought down by one world! I guessed someday that we'd have to deal with Andromeda, but to think this Earth took care o' Gamilon for us? Sta'gin, forget fighting Earth! Let's just give them medals and wealth and bribes and so forth and have them join up with us," laughed Zaden.
"That is not easily done," sniffed Marda. "Most Terrans have high, lofty moral principles. Unlike you, my Lord."
"He wants to go after Earth?" snorted Katros. "With the six hundred and fifty ships he is requesting, I wager he could clean them up in a week. It scarcely bears asking us about it."
"Duke Katros," intoned Marda. "Unlike you, the young Baron has respect for his elders and betters."
"Priestess, what do the omens say?" asked Zaden.
"We must keep the Earth ship Argo from Pellias. If it reaches that world, it shall learn secrets not meant for mortals to know there that would ruin us and our hopes of galactic conquest! For the time is coming when we will attack Terra in force, but not with a few ships. The Argo would ruin these plans."
"True?" asked Zaden.
"True, " said Marda. "The attack should wait until the Advent draws closer. For reasons of His own, the Warbringer desires that Earth be displayed as an example to this Galaxy of His power and might at the right time. He has decreed that after He gains what He needs from the planet, He will either allow us to enslave it or take the homeworld Himself as a sacrifice, leaving us the rest of the Sol system and its surrounding star systems as bases. What His will is on this is uncertain; but He has decreed its final conquest must wait."
"So be it," said Zaden. "I agree with your advice, Priestess. To please the Warbringer, we shall wait on His will," he said as he thought Uggghhhh, what claptrap. Still, she's good at tricks, and she gets us useful information in her wanderings. That's why I let this crazy desert rat wander around the galaxy. It's fun
"Lordship," said V'chel as he broke his silence. "With all respect to Her Eminence, I would beg you not to move too hastily. While I understand the devotion to the Warbringer she has, we must also be prudent. We must not sacrifice too much for the gods."
"I think you are irreverent," snapped Marda.
"No, prudent, Lady."
"Do you oppose me?" asked Marda softly. "Do you wish to call me out in a duel?"
Even Zaden shivered at the thought of that idea, knowing that if these two fought, it would be no ordinary duel, but a psionic one that might possibly devastate a city of two on the planet, as other such duels had done in the dark post-war history of Rikasha.
"Nay, Lady," said V'chel as he stood and bowed to the Priestess. "You are wise: the Warbringer is wise: but I advise additional caution and prudence: that is all."
"So be it," she said after she locked eyes with him for a moment. "We shall let this impertinence pass. Let us end this meeting, Lordship."
"So be it," said Zaden. "We have our grand strategy. Terra shall be taken, but only at the right time. In the meantime, we must keep the Argo from getting to Pellias to meddle in the Warbringer's business. We must keep them from interfering with the glorious future planned for us by the Gods! Is that clear? Then we must attack Terra at the right time and deal with the ragtag remnants of the late, lamented, Gamilon Empire. The forces of Terra and Gamilon must be crushed either at or soon after our War God's Second Coming! Then, at that time, after our enemies are defeated at long last, the GALAXY SHALL BELONG TO RIKASHA AND ITS GODS! RIKA'JA DE, KIRADA!"
"RIKA'JA DE, KIRADA! " yelled all of the others as they banged on the table and screamed the war cry which meant "May Rikasha drink the Blood of its Enemies! The chant grew so maniacal that soon, even the near naked slave boy of Duke Sh'rande was taking up the chant, jumping and capering about as he screamed with the others.
Of course, no one objected.
And, far away, since he was seeing the scene through Marda's eyes, the cyborg and so-called "God" known as Ekogaru the Great smiled. Wonderful!. I have these fools eating from the palm of my hand like trained animals, he sneered to himself.
V. THE PRISONER
January 10, 2202
Triton Base: Main Interrogation Suite
1030 Hours space-time
From the Argo, Peale, who was from the Intelligence Section of the Living Group, stood near the chair in which the captured R'Khell trooper sat, bound and blindfolded. The enemy prisoner was quite an imposing figure. He bore a short haircut and strong features. A hint of a dueling scar was visible near one blindfolded eye. He was bare-chested, and wore only a pair of standard blue EDF uniform slacks, which contrasted sharply against his more-or-less Caucasian-colored skin, which had a slight orange tint.
"All hands, Ten'SHUN!" snapped Captain Wildstar as the Titan Base Commander, Commodore Pier Van der Hoven, came into the room accompanied by four members of his staff. He was a tall man with a brown mustache, and he wore the standard blue peacoat of a Base Commander.
"At ease, ladies and gentlemen," said Van der Hoven. "Captain Wildstar, let me extend my greetings to you and the observers from the Star Force, including your Intelligence Officer."
"Thank you, sir," said Captain Wildstar.
"With no disrespect to you or your officers, I hope, I have placed Lieutenant Commander Hal Traynor, the assistant to the Base Intelligence Officer, in charge of this interrogation. Your Intelligence Officer, as Traynor told him, will be here to observe and assist, along with Doctor Sane and your Lieutenant Wildstar, whom, I am led to understand, is an excellent nurse familiar with such interrogations."
"Thank you, sir," said Derek.
"Before we begin, you can speak with your staff while I speak with mine," said Van der Hoven. "I trust they have an excellent view in the observation gallery," he said, gesturing up towards the widows in which many officers and enlisted men from the Argo and other ships stood watching the proceedings along with personnel from the Base.
"They do. The arrangement looks similar to that which we used in our operating theatre when we interrogated the first captured Gamilon in 2199. We used a similar arrangement when we interrogated Mezar from the Comet Empire last year, sir."
Van der Hoven nodded. "Then I read your reports correctly, Captain. Good! We'll be starting shortly."
Up in the observation gallery, Ember Tyson, the Captain of the Colin Powell, leaned against a window as she looked down at the prisoner. "So that's what they look like, Chen," she said to her Communications Officer. "He's got muscles on top of his muscles, the killer."
"Yeah, I hear they're killers, all right, ma'am," said Chen.
Mark Venture showed up a moment later, walking along with Holly Parsons. Parsons looked a little different, being in civilian dress at the moment.
"Sir, I understand you're Mark Venture," said Tyson.
"And you are...?" asked Venture.
"Lieutenant Ember Tyson, the new skipper of the space frigate Colin Powell. Is she a...friend of yours?"
Artwork: "Holly Parsons"
(based upon original conceptual art of Sasha from Yamato)-computer-generated by
Frederick P. Kopetz
Holly twirled in her skirt and
replied. "My name is Junior Lieutenant Holly Parsons. I'm here in place of
Eager Kendall, who was injured a few days ago. Hear anything about how he's
doing?"
"I know a friend of his," said Tyson. "He just got out of the Hospital yesterday, but he's still on medical leave. I like your jacket, skirt, and sandals, by the way," referring to Holly's outfit, in pink, gold, and white, with a pink ribbon tying back her ponytail (she usually wore a green one that went with her green and white uniform). "Special occasion?"
"Called my parents before. My mother hates seeing me in uniform and she bought me this jacket," smiled Holly as she spun around in her monogrammed pink jacket, tan blouse, and white skirt. "Some of this is borrowed. I just pulled it together at the last moment and borrowed the shoes from Lieutenant Wildstar. If I break a heel, I'll owe her thirty credits."
"I'll deal with Nova for you," laughed Venture.
"You two look pretty chummy," teased Tyson.
"Well, we work
together," countered Venture. "She's handling
"Since Venture was busy earlier, I maneuvered the Argo into dock, too," said Parsons.
"Not in that skirt, I hope," called out someone from the Base. Everyone had a laugh before looking down at the prisoner again.
"God, is he ugly," muttered someone.
"Double ugly," laughed Chen.
"Is that who we're fighting now?" asked someone else.
Venture just nodded. "Cut the chatter, you guys. It looks like they're getting ready. They're putting the interrogation transducer on his head now."
"Wonder if he even speaks our language?" asked someone else.
Hardy came up, shaking his head in anger. "Oh, they speak ouh language, all right. Conroy told me. Wish they'd give me a free punch at that guy."
"You and me both,
sir," said someone from the Erwin Rommel.
"You and me both."
"Who's doing the Medical work since Doc Sane isn't, Peale?" whispered Captain Wildstar.
"Doctor M'ben Kitara, a medical officer
with the EDF rank of Captain from the
"Why is he here?" asked Wildstar.
"The preliminary exams indicated that the R'Khell might be from a very dry, hot world, Derek." said Nova as she came up in her Medical uniform, holding a clipboard. "I guess Earth Defense thought that if anyone would know about someone from a desert planet, he would," added Nova. "Also, I've got to keep on my toes around him, Derek," she whispered in an aside.
"Why?"
"If I ever go to
medical school at
Derek just nodded. "You'd better get back over there."
Right," said Nova. "Sir, is there anything you require?" asked Nova as she turned to Kitara.
"Nurse, you'll assist us. Be sure to handle the basic jobs at my direction," said Kitara in his deep voice. "I trust you can handle that?" he smiled.
"Yessir."
"Excellent. Make sure he's securely attached to the interrogation chair, and then remove his blindfold. Take care, Nurse. He is still quite dangerous."
"Sir, he's bound," said Nova.
Still, Nova looked a little scared as she removed the trooper's blindfold and noticed his green-on-green eyes staring into hers with hatred.
"Tell me, woman, are you available later?" hissed the prisoner.
"What?" gasped Nova in a whisper.
"Where I come from, the only women in the military are priestesses and prostitutes. With your short dress, you look like the latter," he said with a leering smile. "You look ravishing, girl."
Nova gritted her teeth and said nothing. Ignoring the prisoner, she turned to Doctor Kitara and said, "Sir, we know he can understand our language. It should help the interrogation."
"You will learn nothing from me of military significance save my name, rank, and a few minor statements. I have made sure to live for a political and religious purpose," rumbled the trooper.
"Silence. I am in charge here, prisoner," snapped Traynor. "Begin recording! Doctor Kitara, the medical reports, first. Recite them for the record."
"Yes. Doctor Sane and I examined the prisoner together while he was sedated. He was slightly wounded, but his condition is stable thank to surgery which we feel will be successful. His cranial capacity, arrangement of internal organs, and blood chemistry are similar to our own. His genetic structure matches not our own, but is closer to that of Iscandarians. However, his skeletal and muscular structure, while similar to ours and those of other races we have seen before, differs from ours in being slightly more massive and developed than our own. My estimate is that he is from a world with a slightly larger diameter than that of Earth and probably about 1.27 G's worth of sustained gravitational force. His kidneys appear to be more efficient at processing water than our own, as does his lower bowel. His sweat glands are apparently more efficient than our own and are used to dealing with higher temperatures, and his melanin has mutated in the presence of radiation in a manner similar to that observed in Gamilons and Cometines. Further, there are structures in his brain which I do not understand. My conclusion is that he began as basically human stock, but has adapted to withstand conditions on a hotter and drier world than Earth with a larger diameter than Earth and a higher close-radiation content, for reasons we do not understand. His strength is formidable, and he is of average intelligence. He seems to be conversant in two forms of his linguistic stock, as well as our language. How he acquired knowledge of our language is unknown. Commander Traynor, you may begin."
"Thank you, sir," said Traynor. "Who are you?"
"Ki'ven Duno is my name," said the enemy trooper. "In your tongue and military structure, my rank would be Sergeant. I was a squad leader in charge of ten men. That is all I shall tell you about my military mission, save for one final statement which I desire to make to the Captain of the space battleship you call Argo. However, I have a personal and political statement to make to you."
"Which is?" asked Traynor.
"You...shall see," whispered the prisoner, who was smiling.
"Doctor Kitara," said Nova from a monitor nearby. "Doctor Sane says his heart rate's going up."
"I have power to control it, and other things beyond your ken," said the prisoner as he began to breathe deeply. "Your name, Captain of the Argo?"
"He doesn't need to tell you that," barked Traynor. "You are the one we are interrogating."
"Doctor, his brain wave patterns are changing," called out Doctor Sane. "Look at this."
"I will make a trade," gasped the prisoner. "You tell me my enemy's name, and I will speak more to you, and I will deal differently with my enemy."
Derek walked up. "Duno, my name is Derek Wildstar," he said. "Have you any requests to make of us?"
"Come closer," he gasped. Suddenly, everyone could see the prisoner trembling in the seat.
"Doctor!" cried Nova. "His heart patterns are changing! Can we bring him out of this?"
"Hmmm...we can defibrillate him if we have to," said Sane. "Get the unit ready!"
"Yes," said Nova as she turned to the crash cart.
Kitara ran over. "You're right, nurse. It looks bad. Code him!"
Nova ran over with the crash cart while Derek stood nearby. Traynor moved back.
The prisoner smiled, and, suddenly, the mechanism holding one of his arms loosened.
Captain Wildstar moved to hold his arm down as Nova ran up with the defib paddles, but the prisoner abruptly struck him in the chest. Derek drew his weapon, but the enemy trooper knocked the astro-automatic out of Wildstar's hand. The enemy soldier cried, "YOU SCUM!" and spat out a mixture of blood and saliva that hit Wildstar in the face as he fell. At that, the doors to the interrogation suite opened, and two enlisted men ran in with drawn weapons, ready to back up Wildstar, Nova and Traynor.
"Derek!" cried Nova. "Are you all right?'
"Yes," gasped Wildstar as Traynor helped him to his feet. "Nova, the paddles..."
Nova moved in, but she was punched in the chest and knocked to the deck by the enemy alien.
As the armed enlisted men moved in to help her and Wildstar, assisted by Traynor, the trooper roared, "I am R'Khell and R'jkharraz! I die and go to my gods, but you scum shall become carrion and slaves when my people are finished with you! You shall soon be slaves of the Rikashan/R'Khell Union and shortly, the galaxy shall belong to Rikasha and its gods! May Rikasha drink the Blood of its Enemies!"
At that, the troopers' eyes went vacant, and he slipped into eternity with a smile. Derek then turned to his wife. "Nova!"
"No, I'm all right," gasped Nova as Derek and the troopers helped her up. "I've still got to try saving the prisoner! We need to know what he can tell us!" She applied the paddles and called out, "CLEAR!"
The defib device went off, and the prisoner's corpse jumped in its restraints. There was no response. "I'll try again!" cried Nova. "Clear!"
The corpse jumped again. No response.
"CLEAR!" gasped Nova, as she tried one more time. The body jumped again. No response.
She checked his pulse. "No pulse, Doctor Kitara!"
The troopers stood over him with their guns pointed at him. "Back, ma'am," said one of them.
"I don't know he got that restraint open," said Traynor. "This might be a trick."
"No, the EEG is a clear flatline," said Kitara. "Put down your guns, gentlemen. This prisoner is dead. How he did it, only Heaven knows."
"Suicide," said
Captain Wildstar after he picked up his gun. "He was a prisoner, and being
taken alive was a grave dishonor to many of our soldiers, including my own
ancestors from
"Probably bruised up, like you."
"You two are both going to the base hospital, and now! " snapped Doctor Sane. "You might have broken ribs."
"This one, too," said Kitara as he checked the R'Khell corpse. "He'll be for the autopsy room, of course."
A few minutes later,
Captain Wildstar sat in only pajama bottoms on an examining table in the
"Why are you doing this?" he protested.
"That x-ray looks suspicious. You might have sprung a rib," snapped Doctor Sane. "How idiotic of you, trying to fight a big lunkhead like that! With the way you act, no wonder I like my drinking! You young fools drive me to it!"
"Doctor, should I get that blood wiped off him?" asked the nurse.
"Don't do it," gasped Nova as she ran over barefoot in a hospital shift. "We might need to take a sample."
"YOU sit down, Nova! You're my other patient, you fool!"
"Doctor, we need to analyze this. If she wipes this off with a tissue, it'll ruin the sample!" cried Nova. "We need a Schweiker kit!"
"Uh...who do I listen to?" said the other nurse, looking back and forth between Nova and Doctor Sane.
"Listen to the one who's fully dressed," snapped Sane. "Nova, get that tail of yours back on that examining table," he said as he took her by the hand.
"Or what?" said Nova.
"Or I'll get your shift off and examine you right in front of the Captain, young lady!" rejoined Sane.
"So?" said Nova. "He's my husband and we don't have any secrets."
"That's right...I forgot that. Miss Parkinson, get that Schweiker kit. Maybe that'll calm down my other patient."
"Good, now you're using your head," said Nova. She let go of Doctor Sane's hand and pointedly sat down by herself. "Don't you be mean to Derek, now."
"Nova, he deserves it for risking his life like that. And so do you, young lady."
"Yeah, right," huffed Nova. "All I've got is a bruise!"
"I still have to get a good look at that tooth you jarred in that battle three days back," said Sane. "You are getting a full physical, Nova."
Nova just looked over her shoulder and gave Doctor Sane and Derek a dirty look.
"We're both at his mercy, Nova," shrugged Derek. "What can I do right now?"
"Shut up and let me examine you," said Doctor Sane.
"I was afraid of that," said Derek.
A while later, Derek tucked back in the ascot on his uniform while Nova stood with her foot on a stool zipping a Medical boot back up.
"At least the exam's over," said Derek. "We didn't fare that badly."
"Lucky you," said Nova in a slightly funny voice. "Leath your tonguth not numb like mine."
"Which tooth was it?"
Nova opened her mouth and pointed at a lower incisor. "It felt better later that day. Turnth out it wath thill a tad looth."
"Good thing that prisoner didn't kill us with that...power of his."
Nova nodded. "We were lucky."
"I hope all of them aren't like that. When should that novocaine wear off?"
"An hour. Juth my luck. Nova geth the novocaine, you juth get taped up."
"This tape isn't fun either."
"I've got too thee Doc Thane again in an hour and a half, and all I get for lunth ith thoup. Merde," smiled Nova.
"I'll eat some soup with you," smiled Derek. "They've got ramen at the base messhall today."
"Okay," said Nova.
"I wish we could find out more about that prisoner," said the Captain. "I've got to report to the Commander."
"We might find more later," said Doctor Sane. "They will autopsy him. Providing he's still dead, that is," he added.
Neither Derek nor Nova thought that sounded all too promising. What sort of powers did he have? thought Captain Wildstar. And what if they're all like that?
TO BE CONTINUED WITH ACT FOUR--"BARON CHA'RIF'S TREACHERY"
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