"LUNAR:  Starship Andromeda"

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LUNAR:  Starship Andromeda

By Jeffery C. Branch and Daryll Pung

Episode Five:  A Rather Warm Welcome

Rated: R

Marquis City, Pollus 4, inside the Alpha Zone, 14 March 2740 

            Pollusians, well over seven feet tall and rail thin with lean, hawkish faces, shaven heads and scaly, steel gray skin were imposing enough without weapons in their hands.  But, for Sailor Siryn and her away team, surprised at being surrounded by two dozen soldiers pointing rifles at them, it was enough to give the landing party considerable pause.

            “Don’t move, off-worlders!  Or we will shoot!” barked the man in the lead, sporting silver bars on the collar of his uniform.

            “They can’t be serious,” whispered Miriele, her eyes wide from shock while her slim body shook from fear.  It was all the young officer could do to keep from fainting.  Or voiding her bladder.

            “Calm down, Lieutenant,” Ventura muttered back.  While her expression was placid, deep down, the black woman, her heart pounding, found the danger of the situation exhilarating.  “This is all bluster.  I seriously doubt they’ll follow through on their threat.  They aren’t that stupid.”

            Ryvvius, standing next to Sailor Siryn as the away team’s second in command looked to his captain.  “Well, captain?  Have any ideas?”

            “I do, Ops, but what I have in mind would only make things worse,” the Senshi of Sound growled.  She was annoyed enough from dealing with the pompous head of the Pollusian council, whom she suspected had lied to her regarding the turbulent situation brewing on the planet.  Having guns pointed at her people infuriated the Irish Senshi to the point where she was eager to pummel the soldiers into bloody pulp with her deadly sonic scream, but she resisted the urge.  Barely.  “Everyone, do as the gentleman says.  We don’t want to cause any trouble.”

            “Council Guard!  Stand down!” called a voice, and the soldiers lowered their weapons.  From out of a doorway came Vr’heidhen Kodos, head of the Pollusian council, followed by two more men, dressed in fashionable, black Lunarian-styled business suits.  Taller than the soldiers, Kodos wore robes similar to that of emperors from ancient Rome.  The man glided past the soldiers and strode up to Sailor Siryn, whom he looked down at, almost in disdain.  “Welcome to Pollus 4, Sailor Siryn.  I am Kodos.”

            “Praetor Kodos,” Sailor Siryn returned, doing all she could to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.   Beyond the man’s smugness, she was equally put off by having to look up at him.  Damn!  I’m six-foot-six in heels and he makes me look like a midget.  No wonder Pollusians are so arrogant, because they literally look down at everyone else.  She extended a hand to Kodos.  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

            Kodos, his face drawn, regarded Sailor Siryn’s hand as if it were a venomous serpent.  “With all due respect, madam, but we try to limit physical contact with other races.”

            Why am I not surprised?  And that Dyrstade fellow actually married one of these snobs.  Unbelievable.  “I understand, sir.  I must say this was quite a… warm welcome you gave us.”

            “I apologize for that, Sailor Siryn.  The Council Guard tends to be somewhat… overprotective when it comes to off-worlders,” said Kodos with a little smirk.  “I’m sure you desire to speak to me, and the other council members about your visit.  Even though you may well have come all this way for nothing, we are more than willing to listen to what you have to say.”

            “I appreciate your willing to spare us the time, sir,” Sailor Siryn replied.  She found using the honorific with Kodos distasteful.  “As I mentioned earlier, we wouldn’t be here if there wasn’t good reason.  I’ll be only too glad to explain that to you and the rest of the council.”

            Kodos glared briefly at the Senshi.  “I’m sure you will.  Let us go indoors where more suitable accommodations can be offered you and your party.”

            Without waiting for a response, Kodos turned and walked back towards the doorway, his assistants close behind.  The away team each looked at each other, then followed, all the while they were stared at suspiciously, if not hatefully by the soldiers, their weapons at parade rest, but tightly clenched in their fists and ready for use at a moment’s notice.  Sailor Siryn found that disturbing.  And she wasn’t alone in feeling that way.

            “From the posture of those soldiers, captain, I suspect they may have exhibited violent behavior more towards the native population than to any visitors or the non-indigenous population,” Ventura whispered to the captain.  “Just an opinion.”

            “But an opinion I happen to share, Lieutenant,” the Senshi whispered back.  “Maintain your observations.  Inform me of anything you think is out of the ordinary.  Kodos is deceiving us, if not playing us for fools, so I want to stay on top of everything that happens down here.  Got it?”

            “Implicitly,” the black woman replied.  While her lovely face was an unreadable mask, inside, she was elated to finally be where the action was.  And she meant to savor every last second of the experience.

In standard orbit over Pollus 4, 14 March 2740

             “Captain? I do believe we are being scanned,” Setar calmly called out from his post.

            Sailor Eldrea, having just reviewed the twice daily RIFT engine status report on screen five, snapped her head around to the Science station, her expression one of genuine surprise.  “What?  Scanned?  Are you sure?”

            “Positive.  You will want to see this.”  The Senshi of Alchemy quickly got up from the big chair and strode over to the Science station.  Setar motioned to his monitor where Sailor Eldrea saw a dull red energy cosine wave snaking weakly across the screen, a telltale sign of an outside scan, though not a strong scan being conducted on the ship.  She scowled at the screen.

            “Is that coming from one of the Pollusian ships?”

            “Yes.  The signal is from Destroyer D-27, the ship helmed by Aviation Commander Kestrel.  It is a short range scan as there are no other vessels in the immediate area.”

            “Dammit!  How long has this been going on?” she demanded.

            “Ten, perhaps fifteen seconds.  By all indications, it is a low frequency invasive scan, barely registering on our sensors,” Setar explained.  “That might well be intentional as so not to arouse suspicion while they seek to surreptitiously gain information about us.  However, the Pollusians could not have counted on the strength of our own detection equipment.”

            “Or the diligence of the man monitoring said equipment.  Good work, Setar.”

            Setar nodded.  Being a Vulcan, he took no pride whatsoever in the compliment he had been given.  “My pleasure, captain.”

            “Shall I activate countermeasures, captain?” Khatari asked.  “Bounce the scan back at them?”

            Sailor Eldrea dwelled on the question for a few seconds.  “No, not yet.  I don’t want to tip our hand to those bozos that we’re onto them.  Setar, can they gain any amount of useful information on us with such a weak scan?”

            “With our protective measures in place, absolutely none, captain.  Their scans simply do not have the strength to penetrate our current level of shielding in order to tap our computer banks.  And I am sure they are aware of that by now.  If they were truly intent on obtaining data, the Pollusians would have to increase their scanning power, and that would, as Lunarians say, blow their cover.”

            “I thought as much.  Khatari, let’s play a game.  Put yourself in the Pollusians’ shoes.  What would you be scanning us for?”

            “Engine specs, weapons strength, defensive capabilities, vital areas to strike to cause optimum damage in a firefight,” the Isbanni Officer gruffly replied.  “If I wanted to attack the enemy ship, I’d want to get as much intel as I could to increase my chances of success.  Funny thing for a GM protectorate to be doing.”

            “Yeah.  Funny as a fucking crutch,” Sailor Eldrea growled as she folded her arms across her chest.  “Especially since illegal intelligence operations conducted against a fellow member of the GM, or an RSN combatant under alert status, is considered an enemy action and punishable by non-negotiable expulsion from the Alliance.”

            “Quite true, captain.  And convenient, given the Pollusians’ desire to return to their isolationist ways, as was explained to us in our briefing earlier.  That might well be their goal,” Setar pointed out.

            “And, having uncovered what they’re doing, they’ll expect us to act like dutiful little drones and tattle to RSN Command,” Khatari added.  “Captain, I think we’re being played.  If their scheme is to get themselves booted from the GM, then we’ll be doing the Pollusians’ dirty work for them.  This is really beginning to stink.”

            The Senshi of Alchemy let out a short, harsh laugh.  “Beginning to stink?  Are you kidding me?  This makes an open sewer smell like a bouquet of roses.”

            “Captain?  Shouldn’t we inform Sailor Siryn about this?” Assistant Ops Officer Charles Clayton, a reed thin black man, asked.

            Sailor Eldrea shook her head.  “She has enough to worry about, dealing with Kodos and the shitstorm down on the planet.  From what we saw of him earlier, I imagine he’s already pissing her off.”  Returning to the captain’s chair, the Luna-born Senshi sat and spent a few seconds mulling over a course of action, then she turned to back to the Science station.  “Setar, can you piggyback on the Pollusians’ signal with a low level scan of our own and snoop on them without being detected?”

            Setar nodded.  “It is feasible, captain.  Unfortunately, the amount of information we gather will be negligible at best as so to avoid being discovered.  Is there a method to your plan?”

            “Don’t you mean, my madness?  Hell, yeah!” Sailor Eldrea replied with an evil cackle.  She then became deadly serious.  “Those assholes are up to something.  And I’m damn well gonna find out what!”

Royal Hall, Marquis City, Pollus 4, inside the Alpha Zone, 14 March 2740

            Sailor Siryn frowned as she slowly paced the floor of a small but lushly furnished waiting room, after she and her away team had been escorted inside the building by Kodos and his assistants, nearly thirty minutes ago.  While the Irish Senshi prided herself on being patient, a trait she never possessed as a teenager, she found being made to wait on the Pollusian Council to be aggravating.

            “This is damned annoying.  I instructed the council to be ready to receive us before we arrived,” she groused.  “What in blazes is taking them so long to gather?”

            “I would suspect they’ve already been assembled, captain.  This is merely a delaying tactic,” said Ventura, seated in a chair, her long legs crossed and looking extremely relaxed.  “They’re purposely making us wait, if but for no other reason than because they can.  They want to prove they are in charge and will deal with us on their terms, not ours.  Typical behavior for a race possessed of a grossly egotistical mindset.”

            And you know all about egotism, Counselor, Sailor Siryn thought sourly.

            “So, how long will the Pollusians play their mind games with us?” Ryvvius asked.

            “For as long as they see fit, Commander.  Once Kodos and his people feel they’ve made us stew in our juices long enough, they’ll meet with us.  And not a moment before,” the haughty black woman replied.  “I’m afraid we’ll just have to be patient.  Also, we shouldn’t rule out the likelihood that we’re being monitored.  So, we would be wise to avoid saying anything… derogatory about our hosts that could be used against us later.”

            Sailor Siryn’s frown turned into a scowl.  “Delightful.  Counselor, more than ever, I’m glad to have brought you along.”

            Ventura gave a nod, a sly little smile curling her painted lips.  “I live to serve, captain.”

            The Irish Senshi walked over to where a dour faced Miriele sat quietly in a corner on a small sofa, nervously drumming her fingertips on the arm.  “Lieutenant, I couldn’t help but notice you looked nervous up on the roof.  First time on an away team?”

            “No, ma’am.  First time in space.  I just turned nineteen a month ago,” Miriele meekly replied.  She tried a grin, but the attempt failed.  “And for the record, I wasn’t nervous, I was terrified.”

            “Can’t say I blame you.  Having guns pointed at you is an unnerving experience,” Sailor Siryn said in a friendly tone.  She then sat next to the young officer.  “It’s Cassandra, right?  Pretty name.  I appreciate your being honest with me.  There’s nothing wrong with being afraid when facing the unknown for the first time.  The important thing is to control your fear, not let it control you.  Be it down here, or up on the bridge.  Concentrate your energies on doing your job and you’ll be fine.  Do you follow me?”

            The Vegan girl nodded.  “Yes, ma’am. I do.”

            “Excellent.  Given the gravity of the situation, I’m going to need everyone here to help me complete our mission.”  The Senshi of Sound paused to clasp Miriele’s slim shoulders and looked the young officer straight in the eye.  “Can I count on your assistance, Lieutenant?”

            Miriele, suddenly feeling much better about herself, beamed, her confidence soaring.  “Absolutely, captain!  I promise I won’t let you down!  No matter what!”

            Sailor Siryn returned the smile.  “Good girl.  That’s what I want to hear.”

            At that moment, the door whooshed open and one of Kodos’ assistants entered.  He stared down at Sailor Siryn, who rose from the sofa.  “Sorry for the delay.  The council will see you now, madam.”

            “Good.  Let’s go, people,” she said.

            The assistant shook his head, his expression one of scorn.  “Not everybody.  We don’t want such a large party of outsiders roaming about our capital building.”

            Oh, but of course.  Can’t have dirty, stinking, off-world apes messing up your precious fucking palace with our off-world stench.  The longer Sailor Siryn was exposed to the Pollusians, the more she began to despise them.  “I see.  Would it all right if my assistant accompanies me?” she asked, motioning to Ventura who gave a brief double take, as did the others, unprepared for the Senshi’s request.

            The assistant rolled his eyes before giving his response.  “Very well.  She may come.”

            Sailor Siryn nodded.  “Thank you.  Mr. Ryvvius, hold down the fort.”

            “Like I have a choice?” the Cygnian quipped.

            As Sailor Siryn and Ventura followed the assistant out the door, the black woman leaned close to her captain.  “I see you’re going to make me earn my pay on this mission,” she whispered.

            Sailor Siryn smirked at the woman.  “Damn straight.  Got a problem with that, Counselor?”

            Ventura smirked back.  “Not at all, captain.  I love a challenge.”

In standard orbit over Pollus 4, 14 March 2740

            When Andromeda went to yellow alert, Gambler ordered his wing leaders to muster in Flight Control to observe the Pollusian ships, barely a quarter of Andromeda’s size, and get an early read on their capabilities via Setar’s covert scanning, and how best to attack them, should the need arise.  When he mentioned that, his subordinates were openly surprised.

            “You know me, skipper, I’ll shoot anything that moves, but firing on ships from a GM protectorate?  Man!  That’s seriously hardcore,” said a frowning Long John.  The youngest of the wing leaders, the Cygnian radiated typical youthful exuberance.

            Gambler nodded.  “I agree.  However, as the captain told me in our briefing, we can’t afford to be taken by surprise.  We have to be prepared for anything, and that could include attacking those ships out there if they decide to go hostile.”

            “I’m not fond of the idea myself, Gambler, but it’s a sound strategy,” said Raptor, fulfilling his new duties as leader of the Seraph Knights while Sailor Eldrea commanded the ship.  In the short time he had been with Gambler and his wing leaders, he found them to be both highly competent and extremely hardnosed as they pushed their pilots hard, producing remarkable results in combat like he had seen during this morning’s drill.  “The scan feed we’re getting from the bridge has been pretty useful so far.  I’ve picked out at least nine prime areas to hit on those ships to cause plenty of damage.”

            “I found twelve,” Falcon retorted, her dark eyes fixed on the ship on the one of the viewscreens, which she closely studied.  While the gorgeous Italian woman was an interceptor pilot, to her, everything, including starships, were targets, and she loved finding weaknesses to exploit.

            “From the information we’ve gotten, it would appear those ships have at best, only one, perhaps two layers of shielding,” Blitz grunted, slowly stroking his chin.  “Several concentrated blaster or torpedo strikes would easily penetrate their hulls.  The Knights would feast on them, Raptor.”

            Raptor nodded to the tall, glowering German with the blond buzzcut.  “We would at that, Blitz.  Hopefully, it won’t come to that.”

            “Or maybe those clowns out there would be stupid enough to pick a fight,” Falcon said.  “Doesn’t matter to me.”

            “Bridge to Flight Control.  How’s it looking down there, Gambler?” came back the voice of Sailor Eldrea over the speaker.

            “Excellent, captain.  We’ve got a fair amount of intel on the Pollusian ships, given the strength of our scan,” Gambler replied.  “I’m sure you’ve already been informed of this by the ever ebullient Mr. Setar, but, I’m obliged to warn you that espionage against a fellow member of the GM violates regulations on counterintelligence.”

            A short, crude laugh was heard over the speaker.  “Remember what I said, Gambler; to a fellow fighter pilot, it’s Fullmetal.  And like I give a shit, since they spied on us first.  Our AI logs and sensor records will verify that, if the Pollusians file a complaint and have me hauled before a tribunal.  No way in hell I’m gonna let those bastards screw with this ship and get away with it.  Sailor Siryn would roast my ass if I did.  But, I appreciate the warning, Gambler.  Maintain surveillance.  Out.”

            Now it was Gambler who chuckled.  “I’ll say this much, Raptor, Sailor E’s got nerve.  I can see why Lady Neptune chose her to be Andromeda’s new First Officer.  She certainly doesn’t lack for backbone.”

            “Tell me about it,” Raptor replied with a wide grin.  “Fullmetal’s a first class hellraiser.  Always has been.  I’m sure she’s having the time of her life up on the bridge.”

            “Well, her theory about why those goons are spying on us makes sense, given what’s going on dirtside,” said Long John.

            Gambler nodded.  “Agreed.  Meanwhile, we’ve got enough dope on those ships to give the Knights and Bucs guys a leg up in an attack.  Falcon, bring up the schematic of their fighter craft.”

            Just as Falcon was about to switch to another screen with a tech scan of a Pollusian fighter, klaxons blared.

            “Red alert!  Red alert!” called out Andromeda.  "All hands to battlestations!"

            “What’s going on?” Raptor demanded.

            “Switch to external view!” Gambler ordered.

            Falcon quickly did so and the four wing leaders saw one the Pollusian destroyers suddenly break formation and head towards the ship, followed moments later by a second.

Council Chambers, Royal Hall, Marquis City, Pollus 4, inside the Alpha Zone, 14 March 2740

            Sailor Siryn, Ventura to her right, stood before the nine members of the Pollusian council who sat behind a raised semi-circle dais.  Like Kodos who sat in the center, the other members wore robes similar to his, but he was taller than the rest, distinguishing him as the leader of the group.  But the one universal trait of all nine men, were the sour expressions of disdain for the RSN women.

            For the Irish Senshi, the loathing was mutual.  I haven’t been in this room two minutes, and I’m already hating these clowns, she thought.  Definitely not a good thing, diplomatically speaking.

            Ventura, calmly observing everything, noticed the tense body language her captain exhibited.  A blind man can see Sailor Siryn despises these men just as much as they despise us.  Can’t say I blame her.  They irk the hell out of me too, she thought.

            “Gentlemen, on behalf of Neo-Queen Serenity the First, I greatly appreciate your taking the time out of your busy day to meet with us,” Sailor Siryn said in a polite, modulated tone, which betrayed none of the distaste she felt towards the men.  “The reason why we are here, is because we have recently became aware of a situation of serious… concern.”

            Kodos, his eyes narrowed slightly, looked to his counterparts, then to Sailor Siryn, his expression one of open cynicism.  “Oh, really?  Please define ‘concern’, madam.”

            “According to reports we’ve received, there have been incidents of planet-wide unrest between factions loyal to the council, the military and the church.  There have also been accusations of abuse of power by the members of this very council, information blackouts, restrictions on off-world travel and unauthorized intrusions into the personal freedoms of the citizenry,” Sailor Siryn replied in a firm but polite tone.  “These are all very serious charges, all of which needs to be immediately addressed.  As the official representative of Neo-Queen Serenity, I am here to obtain answers so she can be properly advised and take necessary action.  And, as a protectorate of the Golden Millennium, to which our laws and regulations you are required to follow, I now ask that you provide me with those answers.”

            There was silence as Kodos and the council members, trying to hide their furtiveness, hastily looked at each other, then glared at the Senshi. 

Ventura, on the other hand, allowed herself a small grin.  Not bad, captain.  Not bad at all.  You handled the introduction quite well.  Couldn’t have done better myself.  And who says the Senshi lack tact?

            Kodos’ scowl suddenly turned into a grin and he chuckled condescendingly at the Senshi.  “My dear captain.  I’m afraid those reports you’ve received were horribly exaggerated.”

            Now it was the Irish Senshi who did a double take.  “But you’re not denying them?”

            “Why should I deny them?  These so-called incidents you mentioned are all minor in nature.  And besides, given the amazing abilities you Senshi possess, you’re probably reading my mind even as I speak.  Lying to godlike beings such as you would be an exercise in futility.”

            Sailor Siryn smirked ever so slightly.  Did that high and mighty asshole just compliment me, she wondered.  That must’ve been a bitter pill for him to swallow.  Well, as long as he thinks I’m omnipotent, I’ll just use that to my advantage.

            “And you would be correct, sir.  While the Senshi aren’t all powerful, we do know enough to sense duplicity,” she said.  “We are not here to judge, only to gather information.  All things considered, it would be in your best interest to cooperate with us.  If you do, we can help facilitate an end to this… situation.”

            Again, silence.  To the trained eyes of Ventura, she saw indecision, even concern in the eyes of Kodos.  “Very well.  It would seem I have no choice but to cooperate.  What do you want from us?”

            “For starters, why aren’t there any high ranking representatives from the military and the church on the council?” Sailor Siryn asked.

            “The military is our enforcement arm.  In other words, they work for us, so we don’t need to give them a voice on governmental matters.  As for the church, they’re nothing more than rabble-rousing zealots who would foster instability and chaos because of their religious ravings.”

            “If it’s all the same with you, I want to speak to the highest ranking representatives from both factions,” the Senshi replied.  “I want to hear what they have to say about what’s going on here.”

            Kodos, openly annoyed, looked to his companions, then back at Sailor Siryn.  “As you wish.  I will arrange that immediately.”

            Sailor Siryn nodded.  “Thank you.”

            At the far end of the dais, one of the council members glared hatefully at the Senshi, his eyes burning from rage.  Ventura noticed that as well.

In standard orbit over Pollus 4, 14 March 2740

            “Khatari!  Shields up!  Arm forward blaster arrays!” Sailor Eldrea shouted as she and everyone on the bridge stared at the two Pollusian destroyers slowly approach Andromeda on the main viewscreen.

            “Done and done, captain!” the Isbanni officer growled.

            “Flight Control!  Have all fighter pilots standing by to launch!”

            “Aye-aye, captain!” came back Gambler.

            “Setar!  Status of those ships!”

            “The ships are traveling under maneuvering thrusters, captain.  Oddly, their shields are down and their weapons are not online,” the Vulcan Science Officer calmly replied, looking at his scanner.  “At their present speed, they will broach our defensive sphere in 53.8 seconds.”

            The Senshi of Alchemy muttered salty, angry curses under her breath as she gripped the arms of the captain’s chair tight.  “Mr. Kwan, hail Commander Kestrel on Destroyer D-27!  Now!”

            The Chinese Assistant Comm Officer quickly worked his board.  “On screen two, ma’am!”

            Screen two winked on to show Kestrel, his expression one of consternation, a world apart from the smug arrogance he displayed earlier.

            “Commander Kestrel, this is Sailor Eldrea, first officer of the Andromeda!  Why are two of your ships bearing down on us?  We haven’t done anything that would warrant such an aggressive response!  Please explain!”

            “I, er, I don’t know, Sailor Eldrea.  Really.  The commanders of those vessels are so far refusing to answer my hails,” a flustered Kestrel replied.  “I am at a loss to comprehend this situation.”

            “Well, you better fucking get a clue, mister!  And fast!” Sailor Eldrea angrily barked back.  “Or in thirty seconds, when those ships enter our defensive sphere, I will be well within my rights under RSN rules of engagement to protect this vessel by firing on them!  I don’t want that, you don’t want that, and those crews damn sure don’t want that!  Get those idiots to veer off!  Or else!”

            Kestrel looked more frustrated, even worried now than he was mere moments ago.  “I will try, Sailor Eldrea.  It is not our best interest to instigate a conflict with you.  Please, do not do anything harsh.  D-27 out.”

            After the screen went dark, Sailor Eldrea suddenly experienced a feeling of ice-cold dread in the pit of her stomach as she turned to the science station.  “Setar, please tell me the Pollusians didn’t detect our backdoor scanning and misinterpreted it as a hostile act.  If things go from bad to worse and I’m forced to open fire on those ships, I don’t want the deaths of their crews on my conscience because I tried to be clever.”

            Setar shook his head.  “We were not detected, captain.  I will stake my professional reputation, and my commission, on that claim.  Even if by some happenstance that had occurred, and again, that was not the case, Commander Kestrel would have already informed us of our transgression, no doubt with a considerable amount of bellicose ranting.  And, as we saw, he hardly looked angry.”

            “Andromeda?  Do you concur?”

            “Absolutely, captain.  I have been monitoring the situation from the time we first noticed the Pollusians’ scans.  Mr. Setar is correct, they did not detect our activities,” the ship’s AI replied.  “Their equipment is not sophisticated enough for such a tasking.  Also, taking into account reports about the Pollusian military allegedly attempting a coup of their government, that brings up the more likely possibility that we are dealing with two captains having gone rogue.”

            “But for what purpose?” Sailor Eldrea wondered.  If there was one thing the Lunar-born Senshi had no stomach for, it was mysteries.  “Setar, what’s happening with those ships?”

            “They have just broached our defensive sphere and are maintaining their approach course towards us, albeit slowly,” Setar replied.  “But their weapons are still inactive, their shields still down.  Most curious.”

            Sailor Eldrea frowned as she considered her only course of action, one she was reluctant to take, despite her angry bluster to Kestrel.  “Khatari, prepare to fire a warning shot across the bows of those ships.  Let ‘em know they’re making a huge mistake by coming closer.”

            “Captain!  We’re being hailed by one of the approaching ships!” Kwan suddenly exclaimed.

            “What?  Belay that firing order!” Sailor Eldrea quickly shouted.  “Kwan!  On screen two!”

            Screen two displayed the bridge of the Pollusian destroyer, with its captain looking nervous and jittery.  “To commander, SLS Andromeda, this is Aviation Leftenant L’Sahle Vlnova aboard Pollusian Defense Destroyer D-46.  I beg of you, madam, do not fire on us.  We are running with shields down and our weapons inactive.  On behalf of my fellow captain on Defense Destroyer D-23, we wish to apply for political asylum.”

Royal Hall, Marquis City, Pollus 4, inside the Alpha Zone, 14 March 2740

            The longer Sailor Siryn and Ventura were away, the more nervous Miriele felt as she wondered what was happening with them.  She looked to Ryvvius who calmly sat on a sofa next to Ensign LeClerc while a few feet away, the four man security team sat on chairs behind him, their posture anything but relaxed as they were on alert for any danger to the officers they were charged with protecting.

            “Commander?  If you don’t mind my asking, is it always like this on an away team?” the Vegan girl timidly asked her superior.

            “You mean the long periods of calm interspersed by short moments of naked terror?  Not really, Lieutenant.  In my twenty-three years in the RSN, I’ve been on dozens of missions to dozens of worlds, and no away team assignment was ever the same twice,” Ryvvius replied in an easy tone.  “Some missions were tedious as hell while others had me wishing for boredom.  The bottom line is that you never know what to expect when on a foreign planet, so you have to prepare for anything and everything.”

            Miriele suddenly covered her mouth and giggled, causing the Cygnian officer to raise an eyebrow from curiosity.  “What’s so funny?”

            “I’m sorry, sir.  But that’s what my survival instructor at the Academy taught me during basic officer training,” Miriele replied.  “When I think back, it sounds easier than it really is.”

            Now it Ryvvius who chuckled.  “You’re right, Lieutenant.  It’s not easy, but it’s all part of the job we’ve been chosen for.  Remember, only the best and brightest make it into space because Neo-Queen Serenity demands nothing less than top-notch people to crew her starships.  You wouldn’t be here now if you hadn’t proved yourself supremely capable.”

            “I know.  It’s not just that, sir; I’m concerned about the captain.  Will she be all right?”

            “I wouldn’t worry, Cassandra.  Sailor Siryn is more than capable of taking care of herself.  So relax.  Everything will be just fine.”

            At that moment, the door whooshed open and one of Kodos’ assistants sauntered in.  He glanced down at the RSN personnel with barely concealed disdain.  “Commander Ryvvius, Lieutenant Miriele.  Would you be so good as to come with me, please?”

            The eyes of the Cygnian officer narrowed ever so slightly.  At no point since their arrival on Pollus had the names of Miriele or himself been revealed to their hosts, lending credence to Ventura’s earlier notion that the room was being monitored.  Already he was beginning to suspect that something was not quite right.

            “Might I ask why, sir?” Ryvvius calmly asked.

            “Your captain requests your presence in the council chambers,” the Pollusian replied.  “It would appear that Sailor Siryn needs your help.”

            “Is that a fact?  Do tell.” Ryvvius’ suspicion was growing stronger by the moment.  After having served with Sailor Siryn for the last seven years, he knew the Irish woman was prideful as the day was long and would not publicly ask for help unless she was in serious trouble, something he suspected was not the case.  But he decided to play along with the man as his curiosity had been piqued.  “By all means, my good fellow.  Take us to her.  Come along, Lieutenant.”

            Miriele stood.  “Yes, sir,” she meekly said.

            Ensign Riley McDowell, a husky redhead in charge of the security detail bolted up, a look of concern on his face.  “Commander!  I don’t think you should go alone!  Let us come with you!”

            “No!  That cannot be allowed!” Kodos’ assistant snapped, more forcefully than he intended.

            “That’s quite all right, Ensign,” Ryvvius said, surreptitiously pressing a button on his wrist communicator.  “We’ll be fine.  Just stay on your toes and keep things buttoned up.”

            McDowell frowned ever so slightly.  Then he acquiesced.  “Yes, sir.  We will, sir.”

            The Pollusian, puzzled at first, frowned.  “Follow us, please.”

            Ryvvius and Miriele followed Kodos’ assistant out the door and down the hall.  No one spoke and the only sounds were the trio’s footsteps on the polished tile floor.  Even though the Cygnian appeared calm on the outside, his senses were on high alert while his eyes occasionally darted to his left and right, taking in his surroundings as that bad feeling he had about this situation was growing stronger by the moment.

            Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly, he thought.

            After following Kodos’ assistant around a corner, Ryvvius and Miriele were led into another chamber where they found themselves face to face with half a dozen hard faced Pollusian men in dark robes, hefting laser pistols, which they aimed at the pair.

            The tension in the chambers was ramped up several levels when General A’Ryiede Drocargh, commander-in-chief of the Pollusian military, garbed in a dark blue uniform, and Viceroy Ph’truhl Zhitenn, Deacon of the Pollusian church, dressed in light gray robes were ushered in, followed by their assistants.  Sailor Siryn and Ventura saw right away the animosity displayed by all three factions while they all ignored the Lunarian women to glare at each other.

            “Captain, if Adolf Hitler and Josef Stalin had a tete-a-tete after the battle of Stalingrad, I couldn’t imagine that meeting being any more acrimonious than what we’re seeing right now,” Ventura whispered to the Irish Senshi.  "I wonder if this much hate was displayed even when Sailor Moon first faced Queen Beryl."

            “Truer words were never spoken, Counselor,” Sailor Siryn replied with a nod.  “This isn’t mild dislike, we’re looking at barely concealed hatred and suspicion, only confirming everything Dyrstade told us on the ship.  Right away this isn’t going to be easy.  How do you want to proceed?”

            “Cautiously, but firmly.  The animosity between the parties might make anything in the way of a civil discourse on the issues at hand difficult at best.  If we’re not careful with our inquiries, given the temperament of these people, we’ll only wind up exacerbating the situation,” Ventura replied.  “Remember what Kodos said earlier?  The council considers the military their serfs and the church a radical element.  No wonder there’s such a high level of rancor, and the council’s directly responsible for it all thanks to their overbearing pomposity.”

            “That much is painfully obvious.  I’m not a politician, but even I can see this is no way to run a government,” Sailor Siryn commented.  “As for a strategy, we’ll need to hear the complaints of the military and the church, preferably one at a time, then corroborate their information with what we were told by Dyrstade, and the council’s own accounts of the crisis, and then go from there.  We can’t afford to screw up, Counselor.  The fate of this world depends on our getting the facts, and getting them right.”

            “I couldn’t agree more, captain,” said Ventura with a nod.  “Going into this endeavor, I must admit that I greatly envy you for wearing a short skirt and knee boots in your Senshi form.”

            “And why is that, Lieutenant?”

            “Because I strongly suspect the bullshit is about to get pretty fucking deep in here.”

            Despite the gravity of the situation, Sailor Siryn smiled.  As someone who wasn’t afraid of speaking her mind, sometimes to her detriment, the Irish Senshi was beginning to like the boldly opinionated black woman more and more.  “I hear you talking, Gabrielle.  Let’s get started.”

            Taking a deep breath, Sailor Siryn strode up to the dais where the council and the representatives stood impatiently waiting, Ventura at her side.  The Irish Senshi, arms akimbo, gave everyone a cold, hard stare, letting them know she meant business.

            “Before we begin, I’m going to lay down some ground rules.  First and foremost, you’re going to behave like adults.  A blind man can see neither faction likes each other, but I will not allow this fact finding discussion to deteriorate into a senseless shouting match.  Are we clear on that?”

            “Now, see here!  I must protest!  I don’t take orders from an off-worlder!  Especially a woman!  Who in the seven hells are you to order us around, Lunarian tramp?” an angry Drocargh demanded.

            “Someone who’s acting under the direct authority of Neo-Queen Serenity, to whom all you have to sworn to serve as part of being a protectorate!  That authority compels you to follow my orders!” the Irish Senshi angrily snapped back.  She then walked up to Drocargh and pinioned him with a harsh, deadly glare.  “A word of warning, General, and I’m only going to say this once, so pay attention.  Do not provoke me.  Do not antagonize me.  And, most of all, never, EVER make me raise my voice.  Terrible things happen when I raise my voice.  Is that understood?”

            Drocargh stared down into the Senshi’s smoldering green eyes and saw something dangerous in her burning stare.  Something he immediately deemed was suicidal to trifle with.  Like any good military man, Drocargh knew when it was best to fall back and regroup.  This was one of those times.  “Yes.  Very well.  I will comply.”

            Sailor Siryn then turned to glare at Zhitenn who wore a placid expression on his face.  “Anything you wish to add, Viceroy Zhitenn?”

            “Nothing, madam.  I will follow your dictates without question,” the church leader said calmly.

            Ventura observed how Sailor Siryn put Drocargh and Zhitenn in their place while the council stood quietly by, enjoying the discomfort of their rivals, evidenced from the small grins they wore.

            My, my.  Such forefulness.  I could learn to like this woman.

            Satisfied she had everyone’s full attention, Sailor Siryn looked at Drocargh.  “Let’s begin.  General, you may go first.”

            “Thank you, madam.  I’ll make this short and sweet because time is against us, moreso than you know:  I fervently believe Dark Kingdom agents have infiltrated every level of our government, including the council!”

In standard orbit over Pollus 4, 14 March 2740

            Sailor Eldrea, despite decades of experience under her belt as a starship captain, was completely unprepared for the declaration from the Pollusian commander.

            “Asylum?  Are you serious?” the startled Senshi asked the man.

            Vlnova nodded.  “Quite serious, madam.  That is our wish.  How can I demonstrate the sincerity of our intentions?”

            “By bringing your ships to a stop.  You’re too damn close for my liking.”

            As the bridge crew looked on, the two ships came to a full stop.  And no one was happier about that than the Luna-born Senshi, who dreaded the idea of firing on defenseless ships.  Only Setar, with his enhanced Vulcan hearing, could hear Sailor Eldrea let out a sigh of genuine relief.

            “Does that satisfy you, madam?” Vlnova asked in a hopeful tone.

            “It’s a start.  So tell me, Leftenant, why do you ask for asylum?” a curious Sailor Eldrea asked.

            “Because we have no desire to continue serving under a dictatorship that would thrust our world into a civil war,” Vlnova explained.  “As per the guidelines of the Archerton-Vassilovich Treaty of 2308, political refugees from foreign worlds can approach Golden Millennium representatives, including RSN combatants for asylum from repressive regimes, which, sadly, is what Pollus 4 has become.”

            “I see.  Could you give us a few minutes to confer?”  Turning her back on the viewscreen, the Senshi of Alchemy then made a slashing motion with a thumb across her throat to Kwan, a signal for him to kill the audio.  She then looked to her senior officers.  “Setar, Khatari.  Opinions?”

            “A rather unexpected turn of events to say the least, captain,” said Setar.  “For two starship crews to defect from their fleet- in the middle of an operation, no less- to seek asylum is totally unprecedented.  It also indicates that the situation on the planet might be even more dire than we were originally led to believe.”

            “I don’t trust them, captain.  This business is fishier than an aquarium,” Khatari growled.  “The military, of which that battle group belongs to, was said to be plotting a coup against the council; one of those ships tried to scan us on the sly; now this.  In my opinion, it’s a trick.”

            “And what if it is not a trick, Mr. Khatari?” Setar countered.  “What if this is a genuine request for asylum instead of some form of duplicity?  Should we simply turn them away?”

            “Yes!  That’s exactly what we should do!”  The Isbanni officer turned to Sailor Eldrea.  “Captain, it’s well within your purview to refuse to grant asylum under the hostile species clause in the A-V Treaty.”

            “I’m no rookie captain, mister.  I’m well aware of the rules!” Sailor Eldrea snapped.  The Senshi spent several moments mulling over her options, then she looked Setar in the eye.  “Setar, from what little intel we’ve obtained on those ships, how much damage would, say, a breached reactor core cause?”

            The Vulcan cocked an eyebrow.  “You are referring to a self destruct device?  At the distance they’re currently at, the damage would be considerable, perhaps even catastrophic, should both vessels detonate as part of a coordinated effort.  Our shields would not be able to withstand such an explosion.”

            Hearing that, Assistant Ops Officer Clayton softly gulped.  “Begging the captain’s pardon, but might I suggest we fall back, just in case Mr. Setar’s worst case scenario comes to pass?”

            The Senshi of Alchemy glared at Clayton who shrank in his chair.  To her, the idea of taking even a single backward step was synonymous to conceding ground to the enemy, conceding defeat, and she hated that more than anything.  But then, Sailor Eldrea had an immediate change of heart.

            Get a grip, you stupid cunt!  This isn’t some one-on-one scrap with a DK wannabe fighter!  You’re a starship captain with 1,900 lives riding on your decisions!  The ship, the crew, and the mission come first, not your half-assed pride!

            “All right.  Here’s what we’ll do.  We test the sincerity of those captains by bringing them here and grilling them on the situation.  Find out firsthand what their intentions really are,” Sailor Eldrea proposed.  “But we keep our weapons trained on their ships, ready to fire at a moment’s notice if they pull a fast one.  Does that satisfy you, Tactical?”

            Khatari scowled, feeling he had been shown up.  “Aye, captain.  It does.”

            “I’m thrilled.  Mr. Kwan, put Leftenant Vlnova back on.”

            Kwan did so as Sailor Eldrea faced him.  “Leftenant, we’ll send a shuttlecraft, under armed escort, to pick up you and your fellow captain.  Nothing personal, but I don’t want foreign vessels in my bays.  I’ll want to talk with both of you before deciding on whether or not to grant your request for asylum.  This is a non-negotiable offer.  Well?”

            Before Vlnova could respond, Kwan spoke up.  “Captain!  Commander Kestrel is hailing us!  He’s demanding to speak with you!”

            Sailor Eldrea rolled her eyes.  Her patience with the Pollusians as a whole was wearing dangerously thin.  “Put him on screen three, Ensign.”

            Screen three winked on to show an angry Kestrel.  “Sailor Eldrea!  We’ve been monitoring your communications with my ships!  I strongly protest your intended course of action!”

            “I’m sorry you disagree, Commander.  But I’m only following Golden Millennium regulations.”

TO BE CONTINUED...