“That's another two, this is pretty easy,” rang the voice of Biggs. The update shook Bishop and King back into their position as officers. Bishop did a mental calculation of how long it would take for them to finish the jobs and slowly bring the ships back to their short term home. Bishop toyed with the idea of never going back to Guntheria. She had pledged to Gunthix she would wait for him. The idea of convincing him to stay with her forever brought a sad smile to her face.
“For the last time, Johnny,” yelled Wedge through her communications channel, “Don't touch me!” Bishop began regretting allowing him to come along. Nobody at the trading post would have missed him, save for the bartender. “I don't care what you do, tie him up at least,” sounded Wedge to her escort. Bishop leaned back in her command chair and considered the possibilities.
***
Princess Iris entered the Royal Study at the request of the Empress. Normal Guntherian customs only allowed her out of her personal and lavish palace only at the behest of the Empress; all other times she was forced to remain in her gilded prison. As she entered the room, she was surprised to see that only the Empress was waiting. “You summoned, Empress,” spoke the Princess with a air of scolding. The Empress was busy looking at a modified data pad in the form of a book.
She put the data pad down and looked across the short table at her heiress. Princess Iris began to tap her toe as a sign of annoyance. “We've been preparing everything. Magistrates are receiving their long term engagements, factories and shipyards are producing their orders continuously, and soldiers and ships are training for the Federation. That leaves me with one last detail,” spoke the Empress with nostalgia, as if she were speaking to a full assembly without knowledge of inner royalty. “In accordance with ancient customs,” she continued, “I am to attend the primary battle-fleet as we make our initial surge into their borders. To maintain order at home, I am to appoint either the chief magistrate of Belthonia or the Princess.” Her audience listened patiently, waiting for the question. The Empress stood up and spoke slowly, “Do you feel confidant to lead in my temporary absence?”
“If your wisdom allows, I do,” the Princess answered calmly.
“I do. I am only concerned with the detail of your Champion.”
“Nothing in our customs should give you worry. I had already selected my Champion and we have the necessary genetic information.”
“You still have chosen Gunthix? It is early for you to have selected so early. I haven't even selected my own.”
Princess Iris broke off her gaze with the Empress and studied the room. It was unusual that the Princess would choose her champion before the Empress, she still had almost a full century before customs demanded that she bear an heir. “Are you intending to champion whatever hero might arise during the campaign?” asked Princess Iris carefully.
Empress Kerrigan smiled and sighed to herself before answering, “High Admiral Mars is hoping that I will choose him, but I do believe I will choose another quite similar to yours. I do hope I don't create a new custom demanding so much from the science.”
Princess Iris turned and began walking to the door. “You will reign eventually; custom demands it,” whispered the Empress, “Simply remember your place until then.”
***
After several cycles in space, Gunthix arrived at the small, wooded planet of Gepp. Eight told him that Gepp was the perfect example of a Federation world and Gunthix was curious as to what Federation life was like. He spent the majority of his flight in meditation, calculating and understanding what had happened to him and what was to become of his life. Gunthix wanted to emulate his benefactors, but felt an undeniable urge inside of him fighting against it.
The computer began beeping, calling for the pilot's attention. Gunthix took a position in the pilot seat, plugged the ship-link into his arm, and prepared for the hail. “Eight's Gamble, this is Launch Control,” sounded a bored launch coordinator, “Will you require a catch? Over.” Gunthix considered his ship's engines and decided he was unsure if his ship was designed for atmospheric flight. He opted for the assist. “Launch Control, this is Eight's Gamble. I will require assist. Over.” Gunthix leaned back in his chair and prepared for the drones to fly in, latch on to his ship, and ferry him down to the planet's surface.
Gunthix stood up from his chair and approached the tiny ante-chamber that separated the cockpit from the makeshift cargo hold. He donned his hooded cloak and listened as he heard the distinct sound of two drones fly in and connect their magnetic booms to his ship. After a few minutes, gravity began to take hold of his ship and he had to brace himself against the hull to prevent sliding across the floor. After several tense minutes, he heard the drones release the boom and felt the full affect of the planet's gravity.
The floor of the cockpit behind the seat lowered and Gunthix emerged from the ship to the pollen-soaked air of Gepp. A tall Terran wearing a dock worker uniform and a data-pad approached him, “Captain Buddy? I'm the foreman of the port, it'll be sixteen thousand debs to recharge your core and dock fees.” Gunthix nodded and turned for the exit.
“Where are you going,” the foreman shouted. Gunthix turned and approached the Terran. “Sorry, I'm used to them charging after the fuel,” apologized Gunthix, “How long till it'll be on the launch assist?” He handed the foreman his deb-card as he asked the question.
The Terran swiped the card against his data-pad and stared at it for a moment. “This your card?” he asked slowly.
Gunthix nodded slowly as a response, “Something wrong with it?”
He handed the card back to Gunthix, “Well, the owner hasn't changed the code yet. The debs are still good, though. You sure you haven't been here before?”
Gunthix nodded again as he took the card back and placed it in his cloak, “Absolutely sure. Why?”
The Terran laughed and stared at his data-pad. After a moment he looked up and spoke, “Well. It's Eight's card. He has a bar across the rails. It'll be about six clicks and your ship will be on standby to launch.” Gunthix stared at him, he was unfamiliar with the unit of time. The Terran understood, “It'll be about a quarter cycle.” Gunthix thanked him and exited the hanger.
After emerging from the star-port, Gunthix got his first look at his new surroundings. The buildings were varied and interspersed with giant trees only dwarfed by the star-port's launch assist. Down the center of the collection of buildings ran a rail system for terrestrial vehicles. Gunthix watched one zip by silently and studied the building it had temporarily concealed. It was shorter than most of the buildings and adorned with a simple sign on its front containing two small creatures with long tails forming an eight. Gunthix smiled to himself and entered the building.
The cantina was empty aside from a trio of Federation soldiers at the bar. Gunthix approached the bar and studied the three soldiers carefully. All three were Terran and were mildly drunk. A young Terran female with flowing red hair down to her waist was mopping around the bar and noticed Gunthix.
“Hey, Eight!” she yelled, “We got another.”
A loud chuckle marked the entrance of Eight as he entered the room. “Hey, Buddy!” he boasted loudly, “How have you been? Honey, where did I leave the last of the Ryker?” Eight marched quickly down the bar to where Gunthix was waiting.
“It's over next to the Marl,” the female spoke as she kept her eyes on the floor and mop.
“How was space?” Eight asked as he poured the red liquid into a clear glass.
“It was uneventful,” commented Gunthix before he took a long sip.
“Well, I wish it was the same here,” Eight remarked slowly as he eyed the one of the Federation soldiers, “Turns out there was a bit of a rebellion here. It isn't nearly as peaceful as I told you.” Gunthix followed his gaze to the soldier he was watching. He was obviously the leader of the small group, as the other two laughed at his jokes regardless of their humor and followed his lead on all the drinks. “Hey, Sugar Britches!??
? he yelled to the female, “Why don't you clean my boots while you are at it?”
The female ignored him and pushed her red hair back over her ear. “Ya, it hasn't been so good here,” whispered Eight. Gunthix stared at the Terran and was suddenly reminded of Bishop. She looked nothing like a Guntherian; small and pale, but something reminded him of her and the promise he made.
“Was there a reason you brought me here, Eight?” Gunthix whispered to Eight.
“Well,” he chuckled lightly, “I was hoping to convince you to aid the rebellion here.” Gunthix shook his head as he watched the leader of the pack stand up and approach the female. He leaned in and whispered something into her ear.
“You pig!” she yelled after she slapped him.
One of the two left at the bar laughed and yelled to him, “You gonna take that, Marther?” Gunthix found himself gravitated to the situation.
“You bitch!” Marther yelled as he slapped her to the ground.
“Whoa, boys,” sounded an alarmed Eight, “Why don't you guys just get outta here and sober up?” Marther ignored Eight as he kicked the female.
Gunthix grabbed Marther by the shoulder, unaware how he had crossed the room without his notice, and turned him around.
“Do you know who I am?” asked Marther as he turned to face the hooded Gunthix, “I'm part of Suri's Slaughterers.” Gunthix was unaware of who anyone was, but he morphed a Gatling and put in his face. The two soldiers quit laughing, but remained by the bar. “I don't think you understand who you are dealing with,” Marther continued. Gunthix morphed the weapon back into his arm and turned to walk away. “That's right,” he continued, “Just leave me alone with this bitch.” He kicked the female again.
Gunthix turned and punched the soldier in the face. Marther was launched into a booth and remained still. One of the soldiers rushed Gunthix, but was tripped by the female. He slid toward the same booth that Marther was in. The last soldier stood in awe of what had just occurred and was debating whether to attack or leave. He dropped his glass and ran out into the street.
The female stood up with the assistance of Gunthix's hand. “Well then,” sounded a grim Eight, “How about the rebellion, Buddy?” Gunthix studied the female to make sure she was alright.
“The name is Mikela,” the female answered his unspoken question. He continued to stare at her until the sound of Marther groaning interrupted him.
“You better get her out of here, Buddy,” responded Eight. Mikela grabbed him and rushed into another room and ran out a door into the wooded sunlight of Gepp.
She led him through a series of small alleyways between buildings and large trees, ending at the base of a larger tree. Mikela studied the tree for a moment then rushed around the tree to a large gondola car. She rushed him into the car and pressed a button.
“Where are we going?” Gunthix finally asked. She sat down on a small bench and ignored him, choosing to stare at the sunrise instead.
Gunthix shook her shoulder and asked again. She stared at him and finally answered, “We are going to the home of the rebellion.” A tiny ember of joy ignited in his mind as he heard each word again in his head, thought about what is required in a rebellion, and relished in the pain and sorrow he would cause.
***
Bishop studied the magistrate carefully. Each of its four limbs were actually a collection of smaller tentacles. Its body was generally covered in a simple white garb that covered it revealing its feet, hands, and head. The head gave her an unsettling emotion as she stared into a ring of eyes that lined the side of the head. It disgusted Bishop. She tried to figure out where the voice came from, because the being didn't have a mouth. After studying for a moment, she assumed that noise was created by the vibration of tiny tentacles somewhere in the head of the hideous creature.
“We have enjoyed your company longer than anyone else who hasn't decided to take up permanent residence,” spoke the magistrate slowly. Bishop nodded slowly and eyed King. She had pushed Bishop into this meeting. “During that time,” it continued slowly, “We have enjoyed a relative peace from any raiding and the mining company is considering subsidizing several businesses to add to our little home. I'm extending a personal invitation for you to stay with us permanently.”
Bishop and King nodded together. Although the average space traveler didn't need the approval of the magistrate in smaller outposts, the knowledge of their weapons could bring trouble to the outpost. Aside from her renegades and Johnny, no one knew about the twenty Breaker Battleships they had stolen and hidden inside a mined out asteroid. “Your cruiser might bring trouble,” the magistrate continued, “But I'm sure that it won't be too much.”
***
Gunthix said no for the uncounted time. The small dark room was filled with Terrans that stared at him, unbelieving. “Why won't you help us fight this tyranny?” Mikela asked after a tense silence.
“I have done my share of fighting,” he answered her solemnly, “I don't want to fight anymore.”
Mikela put her head in her hands and whispered, “I don't know what to do, Zultar, I just don't know.” Zultar crossed his arms and surveyed the room. He sighed and motioned for the two Terrans guarding the door to part and make room for Gunthix to leave.
Gunthix stood up and approached the door. Before exiting, he turned his head and spoke slowly, “I'm sorry, but I just can't fight anymore.” Once outside, he appreciated the calm air and began walking slowly down the street.
“Wait,” yelled Mikela. He turned and saw her running toward her. “If you won't help us,” she gasped as she caught her breath, “At least take me out of this place.” Gunthix stared at her and calculated the reason behind. He was conflicted, just as he had been since he had saw her. She looked just like her and promised him a small war that he could wage. Something about her calmed him and demanded something other than war. Just as he began to speak, the loud rumbling of two vehicles sounded.
He turned and watch the vehicles approach and then stop, forming a makeshift wall with their chassis. They were tall, with four large tires and a turret on each top. Several Terrans exited the vehicle and stood with their weapons raised. “Well, look who it is,” sounded Marther from the center of the line of Terrans, “I told you I'm not one to mess with.”
Gunthix shook his head and responded, “I don't want to fight.”
Marther smiled and laughed with the chorus of his men. He raised his laser blaster and fired a short burst at Gunthix.
Gunthix's shield absorbed the fire without hesitation. “Boss,” sounded one of his men, “What do you want to do?” Mikela screamed and crouched behind Gunthix, unsure what to do. “He has a shield,” yelled Marther, “Shoot through it.” The weapons from the vehicles began firing laser bolts at the duo. Gunthix shook his head, raised his helmet, and morphed missiles from his gauntlets. The hostile fire continued without pause, forcing him to fire at the two vehicles. Two massive explosions responded and the fire stopped. Several Terrans began crawling away from the wrecks. Gunthix studied them to insure they were no longer a threat, then reached for Mikela. Her face was filled with horror. He held her close in an attempt to calm her, faded black, and disappeared.
Gunthix and Mikela reappeared in Eight's cantina on Gepp. “You've got to tell me how you do that,” chuckled Eight loudly. Gunthix released his grasp on Mikela and allowed her to stand on her own. Gunthix lowered his helmet and stared at Eight.
“I guess,” responded Eight to the stare, “That the answer is no.”
Gunthix nodded and approached the bar. Eight giggled and poured a glass of red liquid. “I want to get to Omicron Theta,” spoke Gunthix as he drank the liquid, “How do I get there.”
Eight loud out a loud chuckle and rubbed his lower hands together. “You are a long way from there,” he answered reverently, “Your puddle jumper won't make it there. You'll have to go to Trinity and hitch a ride on one of those super freighters.” Gunthix stared at what remained of his drink
and considered how long it would take.
“Why do you wanna go that far,” asked Eight, “And close to the Guntherian space?” Gunthix hesitated before answering, “I promised someone I would meet them there.” Eight sighed and poured himself a drink, the first time Gunthix had seen him do so. “Well, if you did, you better hurry,” announced Eight as he drank the entire glass in one motion.
XXIV
Charon and Styx stared intently through the glass. “I don't like it,” mused Styx, “They look heavy, slow, and not worth the time it takes to put them on.” Charon nodded in agreement. A Belthonian entered the room and stepped between the two. “It is the future,” he spoke confidently, “Heavily armed, immense strength, and the ability to navigate space.” Charon watched as the subject cycled through its weapons.
“Is that what he used?” mused Styx.
The Belthonian giggled before answering, “He used a prototype. This has on-board computers that assist in targeting, navigation, and the ability to dodge fire.”
Charon sighed and stared through the glass. “What else have you been working on, Scientist Adso?” she asked as the subject began showing obvious malfunctions.
Scientist Adso watched his project show its obvious infancy. “Every project we have salvaged from the battle is showing obvious gaps in development; it's nothing to worry about.” Styx smiled as he admitted the imperfection they were attempting to force on her and her sister. “Scientist Bader's project is the only one that did not suffer a serious setback, his prototype was already being tested which allowed them to reverse-engineer it for full-scale production.”
Charon nodded as he admitted the damage that Gunthix had done. “That explains why the Empress is so fixated on her time-line,” she commented to herself, “How long until you are confident that you will be able to full scale this?”
Scientist Adso rubbed his chin slowly as he thought. “Another nine long-cycles and it will be fully fielded. A full-cycle and a half, every battleship and cruiser will contain enough of these to compliment their lancers, asps, and reapers.”