"LUNAR:  Starship Andromeda"

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LUNAR:  Starship Andromeda

By Jeffery C. Branch and Daryll Pung

Episode Four:  Mission:  Extremely Difficult

Rated: R

Listening Post Fifteen, on the southern border of the Alpha Zone, 14 March 2740

            No one in the RSN, regardless of how long they’ve been in the service, can help but gasp at the sight of an over half-mile long starship coming into viewing range.  Such as was the case with Lieutenant Commander Archer as she stared at Andromeda, which nearly filled the main viewscreen in the control room of the listening post.    

“Reduce viewer magnification to normal,” she ordered.           

The Ensign at the control board in front of Archer nervously gulped.  “Er, ma’am, the screen is already at normal magnification.”  

“Damn,” Archer muttered.         

“Ma’am, Andromeda is hailing us.”       

“On screen, please.”

A second later, Archer was face to face with Sailor Siryn, regally seated in the command chair with her legs crossed like a queen on her throne while a female RSN officer with a prosthetic right hand occupied the First Officer’s chair to Sailor Siryn’s right.  Archer found that unusual since a Senshi or Sorcerer almost always served as a warship’s captain and second-in-command.        

Pushing away that idle thought, the first thing Archer noticed was how supremely confident the Senshi looked, like nothing could task her.  The uniformed or the cynical would view such a display as arrogance, but the women chosen to become Neo-Queen Serenity’s warriors didn’t obtain their lofty positions unless they were worthy beyond measure and could accomplish anything they set out to do.  Archer genuinely hoped that would be the case here.  

“Listening Post Fifteen, this is Sailor Siryn, captain of the SLS Andromeda.  Good day to you, Commander,” said the Senshi.

“Good day to you, Sailor Siryn.  Thank you for your prompt response.  We’re facing quite a problem here,” Archer replied stoically.  The second thing Archer noticed were the redhead’s large breasts and her brows narrowed slightly.  Shit!  Talk about huge fucking knockers!  If I wasn’t straight, and married, I’d kill to have sex with her!           

Sailor Siryn nodded.  “So I’ve been told by Sailor Neptune.  I’ll dispatch a shuttle to bring you and your visitor here.  I’ll want a full breakdown on this situation immediately upon your arrival so a plan can be formulated to remedy it.  Andromeda out.”           

As the screen winked off, Doohan entered the control room.  “The cavalry's here, eh?”         

Archer nodded.  “Yes.  Have the docking bay prepped to receive a shuttle.  I’m going over to Andromeda with Mr. Drystade.  They’ll just love hearing what we have to tell them.”

The SLS Andromeda

            Surrounded by Sailor Siryn and her senior officers, Dyrstade nervously repeated to them what he told Archer about the volatile situation brewing on Pollus 4.

He explained in exacting detail how its ruling council was in the middle of a three-way tug-of-war for control of the government with the military and the church.  Everyone could see the deep concern mirrored in his eyes regarding the crisis on his adopted homeworld.  Once he finished, there was a brief, but palpable silence, as everyone in the room digested the information. 

“To say this mess is outrageous would be an understatement,” said Sailor Siryn, ruefully shaking her head.  Disbelief was clearly heard in her voice.  “How could the planet’s council have allowed this situation to deteriorate without doing something?  Anything?”        

“Like I told Commander Archer, madam, the council steadfastly believes- or are in denial- that they are in total control of the situation,” Dyrstade replied.  “The council, like the majority of Pollusians are insufferably arrogant, and refuse to accept that they’re fighting a potentially losing battle.  If anything, they still think they can restore order before things really get out of hand.”     

“By ‘out of hand’, you mean, an insurrection,” said Ryvvius.    

Dyrstade slowly nodded.  “Or worse.” 

“Exactly what brought about this conflict?” Setar asked. 

“Civic pride, run amok.  The Pollusians were never keen on joining the Golden Millennium, wanting instead to remain a neutral, isolated world in order to avoid the madness of the GM’s interminable conflicts with the Dark Kingdom.  To paraphrase a speech given a century ago by the leader of the political party that rose to power by opposing the Alliance:  ‘Pollus should always be an independent world, not the intellectual puppets of’, er… ‘that snobbish, despotic, warmongering harridan on Luna with delusions of grandeur.’” 

Hearing that, Sailor Eldrea, fiercely loyal to Neo-Queen Serenity I, scowled at Dyrstade, who shrank under her baleful stare. 

“His words, not mine,” he stammered.  “Anyway, the party was elected, and Pollus was closed off to the rest of the galaxy.”

“And yet, Pollus eventually joined as a protectorate.  Why?” Sailor Siryn inquired.

“A sad, but little known incident.  Twenty-five years ago, Pollus was struck hard by an outbreak of Tuberculosi Streptococus, also known as ‘Dry Lung Disease’.  I’m sure everyone here has heard of it.”

Again, the room went silent, and every face darkened from dark memories of a brief but grim period in GM history.

“Unfortunately, TS was a particularly nasty virus that attacked the respiratory system, causing the lungs to literally waste away due the evaporation of fluids, thus its grim nickname,” said a dour faced Doc Ellie.  “Death came within days as, with each breath a victim took, the lungs gradually disintegrated.  A horrible way to die, desperately gasping for breath that wouldn’t come.  However, TS was limited to worlds on the outer boundaries, and a cure was eventually found before it got the chance to spread.”

The Amaran physician paused before she continued speaking.  “At that time, I was an Ensign, just out of the RSN Medical Academy, cataloging TS fatalities for the Surgeon General’s Office.  Nearly a quarter million deaths, eleven percent of all fatalities during the outbreak, were on Pollus; that was before help arrived from Luna.  But, at the behest of the planet’s leaders, nothing in the way of news regarding the outbreak was ever revealed to the public.”

She then stared at Dyrstade.  “I’m guessing that catastrophe spurred Pollus into wooing the GM.  Am I right, sir?”

“Yes.  The planet’s overtaxed physician corps was unable to check the spread of TS.  But, when they begged the party leaders to call Luna for help, they refused until the situation became so untenable, they finally caved in,” Dyrstade replied sadly.  “The people, outraged at their leaders whose inaction resulted in so many deaths, threw them out of power and cast their lot with the GM to become a protectorate, albeit reluctantly.  Had that catastrophe never happened, Pollus would still be isolated today.”

”But now it’s all going to hell.  From what we’ve been told by Mr. Dyrstade, the Nebula War, plus that nightmare from a year ago, have spooked the Pollusians into talking isolation again,” said Archer, addressing the assemblage.  “The military wants it, bad enough to be allegedly plotting a coup against the council while the church has hordes of people worked up into a rabid froth over it.  There’s even a slogan making the rounds:  ‘Independence From Lunarian Oppression’.”

“Oppression?  Are you kidding me?  What a load of bullshit!” a furious Sailor Eldrea blurted out.  “The GM has never oppressed any world, anytime, anywhere!  That is not our way!  If it weren’t for the tireless work of Neo-Queen Serenity and everyone who supports her, there’d be anarchy!  Is that what those idiots want?”

“That will do, Number One!  Andromeda, strike Sailor Eldrea’s last comments from the record,” an equally angry Sailor Siryn snapped.

“Done, captain,” came the voice of the ship’s AI.

“Sailor Eldrea, despite how we feel about the benevolence of the GM, it’s clear that the Pollusians don’t share our viewpoint.  That’s their opinion; whether it’s right or wrong is immaterial, we simply have to respect it,” Sailor Siryn said to her First Officer in a razor sharp voice.  “It’s not our place to criticize societies on other worlds because they’re different from ours.  Ever.  Furthermore, I absolutely will NOT tolerate outbursts like yours during mission briefings.  I expect my senior officers, especially my second-in-command, to act more professionally.  Is that clear?”

The Luna-born Senshi’s cheeks burned from rage at Sailor Siryn for publicly reprimanding her, something she hadn’t experienced for a long time, and she hated it.  But then, Sailor Eldrea quickly came to the realization that her captain was right, and she was wrong about what she had said. Face facts, Audra, you fucked up, the Senshi of Alchemy thought dourly.  I’m not a hotshot fighter jock anymore.  I’m in a position of authority and should know better.  “Yes, ma’am.  Clear as glass,” a chastened Sailor Eldrea said in a low voice as she lowered her head, her cheeks still red from shame at her actions.  “That won’t happen again.”

“Good.  Mr. Khatari, what do we have on the Pollusian military?  What sort of threat do they pose to the council?  More importantly, how much of a threat, if any, are they to us?” Sailor Siryn asked.

“Hard to be sure, captain.  Getting reliable, up to date information about a close-mouthed world like Pollus 4 wasn’t easy,” the Isbanni growled.  He looked down at the screen of a microcomp in his hand.  “My TACINT-EI, Lt. McCartney, managed to dig up this much:  the Pollusian military is well organized and extremely efficient, while their technology is two, perhaps three steps below us on the Vulcan’s Kay’lahr Civilization index.  As for troop numbers, manpower was last charted at two million strong, spread out over their Army, Navy and Air Force.”

Hearing that, Ryvvius cocked an eyebrow.  “Air Force?  Are they capable of space flight?”

“Yes, but it’s limited.  Their vessel inventory is said to consist of destroyers, frigates, small scout ships and short-range fighters.  Not much that can travel beyond their system for extended periods.  Seems they concentrate on keeping their fleet close to home for planetary defense.  As for giving us trouble, captain, not likely.  With what we’re packing, the Pollusians wouldn’t stand a chance against us.”

“Do not overvalue our alleged superiority, Mr. Khatari.  Even an elephant can be felled by millions of determined ants,” said Setar to Khatari in a professorial tone.

Sailor Eldrea nodded, remembering similar comments she made to her pilots the other day about the perils of overconfidence.  “Yeah, we shouldn’t take any opponent lightly.  Especially one we don’t know much about.  If we go to Pollus cocky, the possibility exists that we could come out with a bloody nose... or worse.”

The look on Khatari’s face clearly said he was skeptical, but he kept his tongue.

“I couldn’t agree more, Number One,” Sailor Siryn said.  Her mood briefly turned sour as she recalled the poor performance during the drill.  She then turned to Commander Leialoha.  “Gambler, I’ll want the squadron on alert stand-by upon arrival at Pollus 4.  Just in case.”

Leialoha nodded.  “Consider it done, captain.”

“Mr. Ryvvius, what do you have on Pollusian religion?”

“Thanks to some assistance from Andromeda, plenty,” said Ryvvius, his eyes lit up from having indulged in his passion:  information gathering.  “The god worshipped by the Pollusians was named Theth-Anon, called the giver of life, the arbiter of truth and the right hand of justice.  According to biblical texts, Theth-Anon was said to have been a fair, but a stern god who protected his people from famine, war and invasion, smiting his enemies with, and I quote, ‘the fury of the heavens unleashed’.  If anyone here is inclined to believe in that sort of thing.”

“Depends on your point of view,” Sailor Siryn said with a shrug.  She had no use for religion, but fully respected the beliefs of others.  “What about the church itself?  It’s leaders, and their followers?”

“The church is a powerful entity, captain, controlling the hearts and minds of millions of Pollusians.  Its leaders have very harsh guidelines on how their followers should live, and the people adhere to those guidelines implicitly, if not fanatically. The few off-world biblical scholars who’ve studied Pollusian religion likened it to the more radical tenets of Islam from the mid to late 20th century,” Ryvvius continued.  “And, like conservative Christianity indigenous to the old Europe from a few centuries earlier, the church is deeply involved in politics, insisting their leaders govern by standards set forth in their bible instead of by modern laws crafted by the planet’s leaders.”

“In other words, we could be dealing with legions of zealots,” said a frowning Sailor Eldrea.

Ryvvius nodded.  “More than likely.  Oh, I almost forgot, it was said that Theth-Anon despised false gods or deities.  And you’ll never guess how church leaders view Neo-Queen Serenity.”

“Oh, I think I can,” Sailor Siryn said sardonically.  Pinching the bridge of her nose, the Irish woman shook her head and let out a short, rueful chuckle.  “Damn.  This just gets better by the minute.”

“I’m afraid it doesn’t stop there.  The council has steadfastly refused to allow high ranking representatives from the church to serve on the board, only adding to the growing dissatisfaction among the people,” Dyrstade added.  “Charges have been levied that the council has run the planet’s government like a fiefdom, if not a dictatorship.  There’s little in the way of checks and balances, news regarding abuses of power have been suppressed, personal freedoms curtailed, and there’s even been reports of council sponsored internal security forces spying on the populace, seeking out possible dissenters who wind up sent to secret prisons without benefit of due process.”

“Serenity’s Crown!  It sounds like Communist Russia from the early 1900’s!” a stunned Leialoha commented.  “What the hell is going on there?”

“A textbook case of absolute power, corrupting absolutely,” a stone faced Doc Ellie replied.  “We’d be naïve as hell to believe a planet’s council couldn’t succumb to the lure of corruption, thanks to the power they wield.  Frankly speaking, the only thing that surprises me is that this didn’t happen someplace else a lot sooner.”

The Senshi of Sound nodded.  “Sad, but true.  Mr. Setar, what about Pollus’ technology?”

“As far as we know, given what little information we have, I agree with Tactical’s assessment:  Pollus 4 is only a few technological development stages behind the rest of the member worlds of the GM, and one to two stages ahead of the rest of the GM protectorates,” Setar replied.  “Along with a competent military, the Pollusians are well versed in sciences and medicine.  If the worst case scenario were to come to pass and Pollus succumbs to civil war, followed by a takeover by the Dark Kingdom, our adversaries would come into considerable wealth in terms of resources and intelligence.”     

Sailor Eldrea snorted.  “You make that sound like a foregone conclusion.”

The Vulcan arched an eyebrow.  “Hardly, Sailor Eldrea.  I merely present facts for the captain’s perusal.  The important thing is how to use any gained knowledge to our best advantage.  In this particular case, to beat back the wolf at our door.”         

“And I certainly appreciate it,” said Sailor Siryn.  “Lastly, Mr. Ryvvius, what about the non-indigenous population?  What sort of numbers are we looking at there?” 

“According the last known survey from one Lunarian year ago, off-worlders on Pollus are listed at just under fifty thousand, relatively tiny, compared to other worlds,” Ryvvius replied.  “Pollusians have never migrated to other worlds, nor do they encourage off-worlders to visit their planet.  Am I correct on this, Mr. Dyrstade?”  

“You are, sir.  Pollusians are mildly intolerant of off-worlders, save for those who go there for employment opportunities in fields such as education, cultural arts, construction and engineering,” Dyrstade replied.  “Even then, they’re extremely judicious about who they allow to become citizens.  Oh, it might interest you all to know that Pollusians have a particular disdain for Lunarians.  Even Vulcans are unpleasant in their eyes.  Something about fair skinned races they find highly disagreeable.”   

Sailor Siryn frowned.  “Charming.  Opinion:  if Setar’s worst case scenario were to become a reality on Pollus, would off-worlders face any sort of tangible danger?”           

Ryvvius shrugged.  “Hard to tell, captain.  While the Pollusians have exhibited mild xenophobia, there have never been any documented cases of actual violence against off-worlders.  But that’s in good times.  Right now?  Who can say?”

“I’ll second that,” Archer added.  “We’ve had visitors from Pollus report that there’s never been any violence.  None that we know about.  To put it plainly, captain, it’s an unknown quantity.”          

“And the last thing we need right now are more unknowns.  Given the proximity of Pollus to DK space, you can bet your bottom dollar the situation’s being observed by the bad guys even as we speak,” said a scowling Sailor Siryn.  “Sailor Neptune stressed to me that should Pollus fall into anarchy, or even civil war, the DK could move in and take over, giving our enemy a physical foothold near our territory.  That can’t be allowed to happen!”

No one spoke, as they all agreed with the captain.

“Commander, Mr. Dyrstade, thank you for all the information you’ve provided.  It’s been of great use,” said Sailor Siryn.

Archer nodded to the Senshi. “Just doing my job, captain.”

“Thank you for coming to our aid, Sailor Siryn.  I’m sure you’ll be able to resolve this situation,” said an openly grateful Dyrstade.

“We’ll certainly do our very best, sir.”  The Irish Senshi craned her head towards a young, rail thin man who stood behind her.  “Yeoman, please escort our guests back to the shuttle.”

The young officer came to attention.  “Aye, captain.”

“Captain to bridge.  Mr. Rostov?”

“Rostov here, captain,” came the Russian-accented voice of the ship’s helmsman.

“Set course for Pollus 4.  Get us underway as soon as our shuttle returns from LP-15.  How long to get there at flank speed?”

“Approximately four point two hours, captain.”

“Good.  Make it happen.  Lt. Miriele, once we’re in hailing range, contact the head of the planet’s council.  Notify him of our arrival, and that I wish to have an immediate audience with the full council.”

“Will do, captain!”

Once Archer and Dyrstade left, Sailor Siryn eyed her senior officers, her face rock hard, her green eyes stormy.  “Regarding the shakedown, for better or for worse, consider it over.  As for the debrief on the drill, Andromeda will send reports to everyone as we don’t have time to go over it now, but I’ll give you my unbiased opinion:  it was a raging clusterfuck!  With precious few exceptions, namely Medical, Damage Control, and the attack squadrons, everyone screwed up, and I am not happy about it!  We should’ve done much better!  If this had been the real thing, we’d all be dead!”  The Senshi of Sound paused to pinion each and every officer with a harsh, menacing stare.  “Needless to say, I do not want this sort of mess to ever happen again!  Especially now that we have a mission to undertake.  Go over those reports with a fine-tooth comb and resolve any and all mistakes you find, I don’t care how long it takes.  By the time we arrive at Pollus, I fully expect this ship, and the crew to be ready for action, or as Serenity herself is my witness, heads will fucking roll!  That’s not a threat, people.  It’s a promise.  Dismissed.”

As the officers, properly chastised, quietly filed out, Doc Ellie and Sailor Eldrea remained behind.

“Captain, if I might make a suggestion, since you’re going to chat with the council, and, I assume, representatives from the military and religious factions, I know the perfect person to assist you in bringing the parties together to talk over their differences,” said Doc Ellie.

“Who?” a curious Sailor Siryn asked.

“Counselor Ventura.”

The eyes of the Irish Senshi widened from surprise. Then her cheeks burned from anger as she recalled her earlier confrontation with the arrogant black woman.  “Ventura?  Why?”

“As fate would have it, she’s a Class Three Diplomat.”

“What?  How in hell did a med staffer gain a Diplomatic rating?” a startled Sailor Eldrea asked.

“Amazingly enough, it’s her hobby.  But, Ventura’s apparently quite good at it.  And her record proves it as she’s fully accredited with the Diplomatic Corps,” said Doc Ellie.  “Look, Fiona, I know the girl pissed you off on the bridge this morning, but I really think you could use her help.”

Sailor Siryn did a double take.  “Wait a minute.  How do you know about that?”

“She told me.  Offhandedly.  It would appear that among the Lieutenant’s more endearing traits is her total lack of subtlety.”

“That goes without saying.  Dammit, Ellie!  Ventura embarrassed the bridge crew!”

“Well, from what I read in her report - a very detailed one, by the way - about their less than award winning performance during the drill, all she did was beat you to the punch.  And, while I’m at it, your own behavior was less than stellar.  If anything, your actions, needlessly berating the bridge crew contributed to whatever mistakes they made because you rode them harder than was necessary, forcing them to overcompensate in order to correct their errors.  The Lieutenant mentioned that in her report as well.”

Hearing that, Sailor Siryn scowled at her CMO.  “Ventura’s report notwithstanding, those are adults up there, Doctor, not children.  I can’t afford to baby them or spare their feelings.  Not out here.  You’re straying out of your field.”

Doc Ellie smirked.  “Am I now.  Let me repeat something you told the Lieutenant after the comments she made:  ‘In the future, however, I insist that you temper your bluntness.  After all, we’re people, people with feelings that don’t have to be trampled on’.  Which, essentially, was what you had done.  Those words ring a bell with you, captain?”

The Irish Senshi was taken aback, not expecting what she heard.  Her scowl deepened as she felt the harsh sting of the words that came back to haunt her.  She hated feeling that way.  “Ventura included that in her report?”

“Yes.  She left absolutely nothing out.  Everything she wrote was almost word for word what Andromeda recorded.  Our Counselor may be a world class irritant, but she’s excellent at observing people.  A worthy trait for a Diplomat.”

“Maybe so.  I’m still not too terribly keen on your idea.”

“I don’t blame you.  However, consider this:  a drowning man doesn’t request a particular color life preserver when he’s pulled from the sea.  Nor should you refuse help when it’s made available.”

The Irish Senshi frowned.  “Doctor, have I ever mentioned that your half-baked Confucius act is a serious pain in my ass?”

Doc Ellie let out a hearty laugh.  “Many times, dear girl.  After all these years together, you should be used to that.”  She then became serious.  “I really think you should consider my suggestion.  It wouldn’t hurt to draw on Ventura’s expertise for the mission on Pollus.”

Sailor Siryn let out a long sigh.  “Okay.  I’ll think about it.  If there’s one person on this tub whose advice I value most, it’s yours.  Thanks.”

The Amaran physician squeezed Sailor Siryn’s shoulder.  “My pleasure, Fiona.  You know I’m always here for you.”

“She’s remarkable.  Wisdom just oozes from her,” Sailor Eldrea said after Doc Ellie left.  “How long have you known Dr. Saralonde?”

“Ellie’s been my CMO ever since I was assigned to my first ship ten years ago,” said Sailor Siryn with a wistful little smile.  “When I assumed command of the Leopard as a horribly nervous 18-year old, it was Ellie who helped me with advice, counsel, or just a friendly ear to lend when I needed one.  I pulled a lot of strings to have her assigned here.  I’m not ashamed to say I needed her.  She’s my rock.”

“I can see why.”  Sailor Eldrea’s expression then became dour.  “Fiona, I know I made a jackass out of myself earlier, and I’m sorry.  That was hardly appropriate behavior for your First Officer.”

“Forget it.  What’s done is done.  Just between us girls, I no more liked the Queen being insulted than you did.”  Sailor Siryn paused to grin at her subordinate.  “By the way, that was a clever trick you pulled, deep-sixing the battle plan.  You put all of us on our heels and really made us work during the drill.  If there’s one thing I admire most in my senior officers, it’s the ability to think on the fly.  Good work, Audra.”

Sailor Eldrea smiled.  The compliment from her captain made her feel extremely good.  “Just doing my job, captain.  Off the record, in my humble opinion, Sailor Neptune dumped you right into the shit.  Bad enough for her to have put Andromeda on active duty before the shakedown was completed, but to send us headlong into a mission in the middle of nowhere is really pushing the envelope.”

“True, but I don’t mind.  In fact, I was hoping for something like this right out of the chute.  What better way to gauge how well this ship, and her crew performs than in the pressure cooker of a difficult mission?” said Sailor Siryn.  “I don’t see this as a obstacle, but a challenge.  More than anything, I want to be on the front lines, to face the dangers of space head on.  Balls to the wall, Number One.  It’s how I live, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Hearing the boldness in Sailor Siryn’s voice, Sailor Eldrea grinned.  More than ever, she was glad to be on Andromeda, and serving under a truly audacious captain.  “That makes two of us.  You’re one hell of a Senshi, Fiona, and I’m damn glad to know you.  There’s no place else in this universe I’d rather be than here.  And no force in creation can pry me from your side.  I mean it.”

Sailor Siryn smiled as she felt a bond of friendship forming with her cocksure First Officer, and she liked it.  “Thanks, Audra.  I really appreciate that.  C’mon, let’s go to work.”

“Well, Gonzo?  How’s my baby?” Leialoha asked the thin, mustached Latino with unruly brown hair as he closely looked over Gambler’s Battlewing.  Lieutenant Xavier Gonzalez, a former fighter pilot, now Chief Repair Officer for Gambler’s air wing, carefully scanned the vessel with a microcomp to look for any anomalies in the hull after the dogfight with Fullmetal.  Wearing a brown and black jumpsuit - the standard uniform for support staff - ‘Gonzo’ (his call sign from his flying days) turned to Leialoha and gave him a smile.  

“The patient will live, chief.  I found no signs of microfractures in the hull, nor any breach of the structural integrity field,” Gonzalez replied.  “Given what you put her through during that show you and Fullmetal put on, I’m surprised.  Nevertheless, I’ll cycle her through a full diagnostic.  Just in case.”           

“Show is right,” said a smirking Falcone, leaning against the front landing gear of her ship, her thick, lustrous black hair stylishly draped over the right side of her face.  The Italian beauty sauntered up to the two men.  “I was impressed with what I saw, even though Fullmetal cheated at the start.”   

“Still harping on that, I see.  Technically, she didn’t cheat, ‘Nessa.  Fullmetal simply changed the parameters of the drill,” Leialoha pointed out.  “That was a damn smart move, even though it was embarrassing to have been tricked like that.”    

“Well, I’m guessing that won’t happen again.  Nobody gets the drop on you twice,” Gonzalez said with a grin.  His expression suddenly became wistful, almost sad as he looked up at the vessel.  “Sure makes me long for my flying days.  I’ll get started on the diagnostic.” 

Leialoha nodded, a somber look on his face.  “Thanks, Gonzo.”

After Gonzalez left the bay, Falcone gave Leialoha a puzzled look.  “You never told me he flew.  What happened?”      

“Gonzo was my wingman on the cruiser Chimera.  During a firefight with DK bandits a year ago, a stray blaster shot took out half his starboard wing,” a grim faced Leialoha replied.  “He almost disintegrated in mid-air and barely made it back to the ship.  Gonzo suffered third degree burns over sixty percent of his body, and spent three weeks in a coma, but he recovered.  Physically anyway.”          

Falcone glowered.  “Say no more, Eric.  I know the rest.  I’ve seen it happen too many times before, and it’s never pretty.  He crashed and burned psychologically.”          

“Yup.  That incident left Gonzo permanently spooked.  Couldn’t get back in a cockpit to save his life because flashbacks freaked him out.  A damn shame.  He was a really gifted flier.  Fortunately, he was also a whiz at engineering, so he cross-trained as an airframe repair tech.  With his knowledge of Battlewings as a former pilot, the transition was quick.  Gonzo’s the best mechanic I’ve ever seen, but he’d sell his soul in a minute to fly again.  He’s told me as much.”  

Falcone was silent for a moment.  “Makes you think, doesn’t it?”       

“Sure does.  Makes me think we can’t afford to make any mistakes, ‘Nessa.  Let’s schedule some practice sims for the teams.  By the time we arrive at Pollus, I want us to be razor sharp.”

Even in the 28^th century, men and women enjoyed working out, exercising long and hard to keep themselves physically fit.  In some ways, it was even more vital than in the past, as space was often a hostile environment, as were the planets and races in it.  

Lieutenant Commander Andrew Ryvvius was no different.  Wearing a black bandanna and a matching tank top with a skull and crossbones on it, the Cygnian pilot, sporting a bodybuilder’s physique, was doing crunches with 30 pound pneumatic dumbbells when his older brother Arthur walked up to him.

 The younger Ryvvius rolled his eyes, then smirked at him.  “Hey, bro!  Don’t tell me you’ve come to work out!” Andrew said in a tone of feigned shock. 

Arthur sniffed.  “Not likely.  You know I prefer to exercise my mind.  I never understood what you see in being so musclebound.”  

“It’s all about attracting the babes,” Andrew replied with a wink.  “But that’s something a bookworm like you wouldn’t know much about.  So, what brings you into this neck of the woods?”           

“Well, I had a free moment, so I came to congratulate you being promoted to wing leader.” 

Andrew stopped and gave his older brother a long stare.  “That’s mighty white of you, Artie.  You’re only ten days late.  I didn’t expect a party, but a call would’ve been nice.  Mom and dad managed that much, why couldn’t you?”   

Arthur sighed from exasperation.  “You knew I was up to my eyeballs in work, helping get this ship ready for launch.  On top of that, I was filling in as First Officer after Sailor Africa was transferred.  I just didn’t have the time.”         

“Or the interest.”          

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Bullshit!  You were furious about my going into the Fighter Corps because you wanted me to follow in your footsteps and be an Ops geek.  Am I wrong?”    

Arthur paused, his face tight from a scowl.  “No.  You have a sharp mind, Andy.  Sharp as mine.  You could go into any field, including command.  Why fly fighters?”      

“Why?  I love it!  Is that so hard to figure out?” Andrew snapped back.  “Flying a Battlewing makes me happy, just like pouring over a library computer gives you a monster hard on.”      

“No need to be vulgar.  Besides, being an ‘Ops geek’ doesn’t put my life at risk.”    

“Unless you don’t count being bored to death.  Why do you hate my being a pilot?”   

“Because I don’t want to tell mom and dad that you were killed in action!” Arthur angrily blurted out.  “I went through that once with Arianna, and that hurt in ways you’ll never know!  She was our sister, but she was MY twin!  That’s why I bloody hate it!  Worrying that you could die like she did!”     

Andrew stood and glared hatefully at his older brother.  “Don’t you dare bring Anna into this!  Look, I know I could die out there!  But you’re no safer on this tub!  This morning proved that!  At least I have the guts to take the fight to the enemy!  What’s your excuse?”          

There was a long, tense silence between the brothers who glowered at each other.  “Is that how you view me?  As a coward?” Arthur asked. 

“If the shoe fits!”  Andrew then stormed off, leaving a scowling, frustrated Arthur behind. 

“Dammit!” he growled.

Like a movie buff enjoying his favorite film, Raptor was engrossed in the holographic replay of the dogfight between Gambler and Fullmetal when he heard the sound of a throat being cleared.  The handsome black man whirled around and faced a smirking Sailor Eldrea.    

“Enjoying the show, Raptor?” she asked. 

Raptor laughed.  “Are you kidding, boss?  If I could sell this footage to the GM Entertainment Network, I’d be rich overnight!  I never thought Battlewings could maneuver like that.”          

“That makes two of us,” the Senshi of Alchemy said with a chuckle as she sat in the chair next to Raptor.  “In fact, I ordered my ship looked over after we got back, as I’m sure I probably strained the hull’s integrity field.  But, I had a hell of a good time out there today.” 

“No kidding.  I saw how giddy you were when we returned.  It would’ve taken a ghost torp hit at point blank range to wipe the smile off your face.”

“What can I say?  I love a challenge, and Gambler put me through my paces like no one has.  Not even you and the guys.  Leialoha’s either a virtuoso, or a madman, but one thing’s for certain:  he’s a fucking great pilot.  So, what did you think of his fliers?”        

“You were right, boss.  Those guys are major players,” Raptor replied.  “Despite the monkey wrench you threw in the works, they recovered fast and fought us hard.  They damn sure made a believer out of Swift after Gambler waxed his ass.”           

“Poetic justice.  He had that coming after his boasts.  Meanwhile, Gambler’s anti-ship boys are sharp too.  I wouldn’t mind adding Long John or anyone from his team to the Knights.”     

“Speaking of which, I guess this is where I take over, huh?”       

Sailor Eldrea nodded.  “Yup.  Now that Andromeda has a mission, I’m gonna be plenty busy on the bridge.  Helping Sailor Siryn run this ship is my number one job now.  I am NOT going to let her down!”  

“Sounds like you really respect her,” Raptor commented.     

“I do.  For someone so young- she’s not even thirty yet- Sailor Siryn has an air about her that commands respect in a way I’ve never seen in Senshi ten times her age,” Sailor Eldrea explained.  “And, she’s a straight shooter.  Something else I appreciate.  Before we left port, she came right out and told me she wasn’t comfortable about my being her First Officer because I lacked experience helming a battleship.  But, despite that, she was still willing to trust me.  That meant a lot.  The bottom line is, well… I like her.”           

Raptor smirked.  “You?  Like someone?  Stop the presses!”          

“Screw you, wiseass.  Now that you’re running the Knights, you’ll have to compensate for having one less wingman, namely me.”     

“Shouldn’t be a problem.  I’ll talk with Long John and see what we can cook up.  Don’t worry, Fullmetal, the Knights will be in good hands.”

“They’d better be!  Or else!” Sailor Eldrea growled, half-jokingly.

Suddenly, the voice of Setar came over the loudspeaker.  “Sailor Eldrea, Commander Ryvvius, report to the bridge at once.  We will be arriving at Pollus 4 in ten minutes.”          

Sailor Eldrea rose and headed for the door.  “Gotta go.  See you.”         

“Good luck, boss."

In standard orbit over Pollus 4, 14 March 2740

For anyone who had never seen a Pollusian, they might have been put off by the haughty, imperious expressions they wore on their thin, sharply angular faces.  Along with their clean-shaven heads (facial hair was against their beliefs), large, golden eyes and scaly, steel gray skin, it lent an image of smug arrogance, one they did nothing to discourage.  Sailor Siryn, face to face with the man on the primary viewscreen, saw that right away, as had everyone else on the bridge.

“Greetings to you, captain.  I am Vr’heidhen Kodos, Praetor of the Pollusian council,” said the man in a lisping, nasal voice.  He seemed to regard the Senshi with contempt.  “It is not often that we are paid a visit by a representative of Neo-Queen Serenity the First.  And, admittedly, nor do we encourage such visits, especially when the visitor arrives aboard a warship.  Is there a reason you have come here?”

“As a matter of fact, there is, Mr. Kodos,” said Sailor Siryn.

“Praetor Kodos,” Kodos interrupted in an annoyed tone, emphasizing his title.

“I’m sorry.  Praetor Kodos.”  The Irish Senshi fought to avoid rolling her eyes.  “Regarding our visit, we are here at the behest of the Queen to investigate a reputed report of… instability on your world.”

Kodos chuckled.  But his eyes narrowed slightly.  “Instability?  How ridiculous!  Nothing of the sort exists here, captain.  Your queen must be mistaken.  I assure you, everything is under control.”

“And I assure you… Praetor Kodos, we wouldn’t be here in the first place if there wasn’t a problem.  Neo-Queen Serenity is extremely judicious about the use of her resources,” the Irish Senshi replied in a curt tone.  “I would like to have an audience with you and the rest of the council to discuss this matter since it is too sensitive to relate over an open channel.  Would that be suitable to you, sir?”

Kodos, looking inconvenienced, frowned as he mulled over the offer.  “Very well.  I suppose it would be impolite to refuse a request from one of the famed Sailor Senshi.  My adjutant will send coordinates for the Royal Hall in Marquis City to you.  We expect you in thirty minutes.  Sharp.  Council Central out.”  And the screen went dark.

“Pardon my French, skipper, but, what an asshole!” an irritated Sailor Eldrea grumbled.  “If everyone down there acts like him, I can understand why Pollus is in such bad shape.”

“I’ll second that, Number One.  After talking to Kodos, I feel guilty for chewing you out earlier.”  Sailor Siryn turned to Ventura who stood off to her left.  “Well, Counselor, what did you think of him?”

“Other than his being an annoyingly supercilious martinet?  He was lying, captain.  The way he reacted when you mentioned the problem was proof of that,” the gorgeous black woman replied.  “Kodos was caught off-guard when his dirty little secret was aired.  Clearly, he didn’t expect an off-worlder to know about the crisis on his world, and he didn’t like it.  I think we should be on our guard for further duplicity from this man, if not from the entire council.”

Sailor Siryn nodded.  “An astute observation, Counselor.  Lt. Miriele, what about those coordinates from Kodos?”

“They just came in, ma’am.  I’ll send them to Flight Control,” the Vegan officer replied.

“Captain!  I’m picking up nine ships headed our way!” Khatari announced.  “Eight Pollusian destroyers and a scout ship!  Closing fast!”

“Damn!  Are their weapons armed?”

“Negative!  But we shouldn’t take any chances!”

“I agree, skipper.  Recommend we go to yellow alert until we determine if they pose any hostile intentions,” Sailor Eldrea added.  “And block all sensor access to us… as subtly as possible.”

“Recommendation noted, Number One.  All hands, go to yellow alert.  Commander Setar, initiate a subroutine to scramble their sensor readings should they decide to scan us; give ‘em random noise if nothing else, full block on anything intrusive.  Route to screen two; screen on.”

The viewscreen to the left of the main veiwscreen winked on and everyone saw eight ships, triangular in shape and in an octagon formation approach, while a smaller, similarly shaped vessel was in the center of the formation.  Sailor Siryn scowled at what she saw.  “This is really starting to piss me off.  What the hell are they playing at?”

“Captain, we’re being hailed,” Miriele announced.

“On screen one.” 

An instant later, everyone viewed the bridge of one of the frigates.  In the center of the screen was a Pollusian in a navy blue uniform.  The man looked every bit as pompous as Kodos.  “This is Aviation Commander Sh’tare Kestrel of the 14^th Battle Group aboard Defense Destroyer D-27.  We have been dispatched to keep you under observation while you are in our airspace.”

“I appreciate your diligence.  We’ll do our very best to behave.  Andromeda out.”  Once the connection was terminated, Sailor Siryn fumed.  “Sons of bitches.  Maintain yellow alert.”

“A most curious development,” said Setar, cocking an eyebrow.

“Indeed.  This would be like a dozen gazelles approaching a hungry lion,” added Ryvvius, stroking his chin.  “If there’s a method to the Pollusians’ madness, I’m sorry to say it’s eluded me.”

“On the contrary, Commander, it’s all rather simple, once you decipher their mindset,” said Ventura.  “The behavior of the Pollusians is not uncommon for a race of pure iconoclasts.  They see us as intruders wanting to peer into their closed society, something they undoubtedly find insufferable.  Therefore, they’re only doing what they feel is necessary to guard their world from what they perceive as prying eyes.  A few outsiders they can tolerate, but a huge warship like Andromeda?  I’d hazard to say the council is probably suffering a collective undergarment malfunction right about now.”

“Undergarment malfunction?” a curious Setar asked.

“Their panties are in a bunch.”

Sailor Siryn grinned.  Heh!  Ellie did warn me this girl isn’t one for subtlety.  Serenity help me, but I’m starting to like her.  “Mr. Ryvvius, Lt. Miriele, you’ll accompany me down to the planet.  Your talents at information gathering and language deciphering will come in handy.  Mr. Khatari, have a security detail report to the port dorsal shuttlebay.  Flight Control, ready the Captain’s Yacht for launch.  Have Lt. LeClerc report for pilot duty.”  The Senshi of Sound paused to look at Ventura.  “Counselor, I want you on the away team.”

“Might I ask why, captain?” a curious Ventura asked.

“Because I’ve been told you’re supposed to be good at diplomacy.  I’ll need your skills for whatever we’ll be facing down there.  Does that satisfy your curiosity, Lieutenant?”

“It does, captain.  And for the record, I’m not just good at diplomacy, I’m damn good at it.”

“We can only hope.”  Sailor Siryn rose from her chair and eyed her First Officer.  “Sailor Eldrea, you have the bridge.”

A smile spread across Sailor Eldrea’s face as she stood, came to attention and crisply saluted her captain.  “Aye aye, captain!”

After Sailor Siryn led the trio off the bridge, the Senshi of Alchemy, still smiling, sat in the big chair.  She’d commanded lesser ships and been on scores of battleships throughout her career, but for the first time one of the most powerful ships in the RSN was now in her hands, and she didn’t bother hiding her delight.  Hoo-yeah!  This is great!  I feel like a fucking goddess!  A girl could definitely get used to this, she thought.  “Mr. Setar, have the Assistant Ops and Comm Officers report to the bridge at once.  Mr. Khatari, keep a close eye on those ships out there.  If they do anything more threatening than backfire, I want to know about it yesterday!”

From the port side dorsal shuttlebay, the captain’s yacht, the largest shuttlecraft on the starship, gracefully left the bay under the control of Lt. LeClerc and maneuvered out to within ten kilometers of where the Pollusian ships sat.

On the yacht’s flight deck, Sailor Siryn, sitting next to LeClerc, observed the ships through the main viewport.

“What do we do now, captain?  Knock?” asked LeClerc.

“In a matter of speaking, laddie.”  The Irish Senshi activated the comm system.  “Sailor Siryn to Pollusian ships.  I am aboard a shuttlecraft and am ready to go to the surface.  Do you register?”

“Acknowledged.  We have you on our sensors,” came back the curt-sounding voice of Kestrel over the speaker.  “You are to follow the scout ship to the Royal Hall in our capital city.  There will be no deviation from the assigned route, which you have been given.  Out.”

“Charming people, aren’t they, captain?” said a bemused Ryvvius from the main cabin.  Seated with him were Miriele, Ventura and a four-man security detachment.

“That goes without saying, Arthur,” Sailor Siryn quipped.  As she and LeClerc looked on, the scout ship broke from the formation and headed towards the planet.  “Follow that ship, Lieutenant.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The two ships, the scout vessel in the lead entered the planet’s atmosphere and, after flying through a thick cloud layer, Sailor Siryn and her away team marveled at seeing vast expanses of emerald green forests dotted by huge cities, replete with hovercars zipping by in assigned skylanes for as far as the eye could see.  The vessels flew on to the largest of the forest-surrounded urban centers, Marquis City, with a stately looking castle in the center of the city, complete with a dozen gleaming metallic pillars reaching high into the sky.

“Defense Scout S-17 to Sailor Siryn.  Please land on the Royal Hall rooftop landing pad,” came back another curt voice over the speaker.

LeClerc checked his panel guidance monitor, which displayed the rooftop of the building and a large landing pad ringed by blinking white lights.  The pilot expertly maneuvered the yacht into a hover over the landing pad, and then set the vessel down on the pad.

“Well done, Lieutenant,” said Sailor Siryn.  She then rose from her seat.  “Let’s go, people.  We don’t want to keep our hosts waiting.”

After LeClerc pressed a button that opened the starboard side hatch door near the vessel’s flight deck, the away team, led by Sailor Siryn, departed the yacht.  No sooner had everyone exited when two dozen, seven feet tall, hard faced men in black battle fatigues, all bearing large, deadly looking rifles rushed towards the party, surrounded them and leveled their weapons at the visitors.

TO BE CONTINUED...