"LUNAR:  Starship Andromeda"

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LUNAR:  Starship Andromeda

By Jeffery C. Branch and Daryll Pung

Episode Seven:  In Case Of Emergency...

Rated: R

In standard orbit over Pollus 4, 14 March 2740

The screen went dark as Kestrel’s manically laughing image blinked off, replaced by a view of his destroyer, now backlit by a brilliant surge of whitish energy, charging right at the Andromeda.

“Oh, hell,” Sailor Eldrea breathed; alarmed, she leapt into action.  “Bridge to Engineering!  Divert every spare nanojoule of power to forward shields!  Bridge to Flight Control; all fighters fall back, now!  Setar, impromptu analysis!”

“Flight Control, aye!” Swift responded instantly at his post in the shuttlebay, too conditioned to Sailor Eldrea’s orders to question them, though this particular order gave him pause. 

“All wings, this is Flight Control, Sailor Eldrea has ordered all fighters to get clear of Andromeda!” 

Gambler blinked in astonishment.  “What!”  His reaction was not unique; every pilot’s head snapped about as the orders came across their fighter’s comm systems.  “Flight Control, patch me through!”

“Aye, sir!” Swift replied.

“Gambler to Andromeda.  Sailor Eldrea, you can’t expect us to retreat-“

Sailor Eldrea cut him off.  “Yes I can, Gambler.  Get the hell away from this ship, now!  We may be able to withstand a collision and an exploding engine core; you fighters definitely can’t!”

“Andromeda, this is Raptor.  At least let us try to intercept-“

“No time, Raptor!  None of you are in position!  Get clear, now!” Sailor Eldrea broke in, turning towards Setar, a question already forming on her lips; it died before she could ask it, annoyance beginning to show as another channel beeped on.

“Sailor Eldrea, we won’t just-“ Gambler tried again.

“Dammit, Gambler, that is an order!” Sailor Eldrea yelled; she made a slicing motion across her throat to Kwan and focused on Setar.  “Just what would that ship exploding do to us?” she hastily asked.

“Insufficient data, Sailor Eldrea,” Setar calmly and promptly replied, having just finished quickly reviewing said data.  “Our scans to this point have not-“

“And I’m guessing there isn’t enough time to collect such data now,” she interrupted; Setar raised his eyebrows.  He wasn’t used to being interrupted.  She turned away as Rostov spoke up from the helm.

“Ma’am?  Shall we break orbit and evade?”

“Evade?” Sailor Eldrea said as she stepped down towards the captain’s chair.  “As in, retreat?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Rostov said.

“I agree,” Khatari spoke up.  “We can easily outrun Kestrel until he blows himself up.”

“Except that maniac would then target the rogue ships,” Sailor Eldrea replied heatedly, mind working in overdrive.

“Let him,” growled Khatari coldly.

Despite their danger, every head on the bridge, including the imperturbable Setar, turned to stare at Khatari; Sailor Eldrea locked her glare on him, her expression glacial, even as an idea presented itself to her.  She fought to control her anger; fought, and barely won.  This damned Isbanni is getting out of hand!  First he questions my orders; I could’ve let that go, because the orders were a little unusual and the crew isn’t used to me yet… but now this!

“Setar,” she said crisply, coolly, her now cold, murderous glare still bearing down on the Isbanni, pure rage emanating from her in waves.  “Reroute all tractor energy and reverse the flow; target Kestrel’s vessel.  He has no shields; it may not stop him, but it may slow him down.”  She knew such a request would normally be directed at tactical, and she knew all other departments knew it, too.  Maybe this will help make a point about bridge discipline!

“Aye, Captain; activating tractors now,” Setar responded without missing a beat; still Sailor Eldrea held the Isbanni’s gaze.  Khatari’s own eyes, filled with anger, narrowed at the snub; then he flinched.

Was that a hint of fear in his eyes?  Good, Sailor Eldrea thought.  She strode towards him slowly as on the screen behind her, bluish-green tractor energy slammed into and coruscated over Kestrel’s destroyer, blunting and drastically slowing his approach; the small Pollusian ship was actually initially knocked back several thousand kilometers before turning right into the tractor beam and forcing itself forward slowly.

Finally, Sailor Eldrea leaned in close to Khatari, still holding his gaze, and dropped her voice to a whisper that even Setar’s sharp hearing couldn’t pick up; her eyes were cold, emotionless.  “I will deal with you later, Lieutenant Commander.  You are way the hell out of line, and if the situation weren’t so critical, I would relieve you of duty this instant.  Keep your trap shut unless ordered otherwise; and just follow the orders you are given.  Do you understand me?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the Isbanni replied sullenly.

Sailor Eldrea turned away in a gesture of dismissal.  She raised her voice to normal levels, acting as if nothing had just happened.  “Tactical, use blasters.  Pinpoint fire; attempt to take that ship’s power plant offline, just like the other ships.  Disable, not destroy.  Bridge to Flight Control, are those fighters clear?”

“Aye, ma’am, now orbiting at a safe distance,” Swift responded quickly.

“Good.”  On the screen, yellow beams could be seen lancing out and drilling into Kestrel’s destroyer; small explosions blossomed with debris and plasma.   But it wasn’t enough; the destroyer kept pushing inexorably forward.

“How long until his core explodes?” Sailor Eldrea asked Setar.

“A matter of minutes, Captain,” the Vulcan replied.  “Systems appear to be fluctuating wildly as they fight our tractor, so it is difficult to accurately estimate.  Our tractor systems are approaching overload; we will be forced to deactivate them in approximately forty-five seconds.”

“Understood.  Kwan, patch me through to Kestrel’s ship,” Sailor Eldrea said slowly.  Might as well give it one final shot.

“Aye, ma’am; channel open,” Kwan responded.

“Commander, please, let’s end this before it’s too late.  Veer off, shut down your core; think about the lives at stake-“ Sailor Eldrea began.

Kestrel’s image blinked onto screen two, eyes wide with madness and fervor.  “If all must die for the traitors to die, so be it; I am more than ready!  I will be remembered forever if my last act destroys such base betrayers of our race!”

The screen blinked off; the only thing visible was his destroyer fighting through the tractor effect.

A man driven by obsession, Sailor Eldrea thought miserably, rage fading rapidly.  And he’s going to force me to kill hundreds of Pollusians to protect Andromeda and her crew.  Everyone could see the open look of misery on her face.  She lowered her head a moment in despair; when she raised it, her expression was hard, cold; a startling change.  Her fists clenched. 

She was ready to do her duty.

“Tactical, target incoming destroyer and stand by to fire port side proton cannon on my mark,” she said, her voice devoid of emotion; everyone on the bridge exchanged looks at her demeanor.  “Do a final overload surge of tractor systems to repulse target to a safer range just before you fire.”

“Aye, ma’am,” grunted Khatari in surprise, getting to work.  This is more like it, the Isbanni thought.

Setar abruptly spoke up.  “Captain!  The two defectors have powered up their weapons!”

Sailor Eldrea turned, her voice cool.  “Kwan, open a channel and tell them to stand-“

“They’re firing,” reported Khatari.

“Shit!” snarled Sailor Eldrea, spinning back to see streams of plasma orbs burst from the two rogue Pollusian ships and race for Kestrel’s destroyer.  She dived for the captain’s chair and pressed a section of the small armrest panel.  “All hands, brace for impact!”

The plasma struck; and the screen went white with the detonation of Kestrel’s ship, as visual filters attempted to compensate; but the explosion was too close.  A microsecond later, the shockwave hit Andromeda, throwing everybody about on the bridge.

Everything went dark and silent.

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

The modest sized condominium on the shore of a artificial lake ten kilometers from the church Ursola and the Andromeda landing party left from was plain and nondescript on the outside, but lavishly furnished on the inside.  After Ursola led the group in from the back, he pressed a button that closed all the shades, hiding them from prying eyes outside.

“Very nice,” said Ryvvius with a nod as he looked around.  As a man who enjoyed fine living, even on the salary of an RSN officer, he appreciated the elegantly stylish decor.  “You have excellent taste, Mr. Ursola.  Are you positive that Kotou or any of his cronies are unaware of this place?”

         “Positive.  This is a private retreat for my wife and I.  There was no reason to tell Kotou, or anyone else outside of the immediate family about it,” Ursola replied.  His expression then turned dour.  “I… I still can’t believe I how was so badly deceived by that filthy creature.  How he used me.  What do I tell my poor sister about this?  About him?”

“The truth.  Full disclosure.  There’s no other way around it.  I know it will be extremely painful for your sister, but to compound one deceit with another will only cause more grief, both for her, and for you,” the Cygnian somberly replied.  “I’m genuinely sorry you had to experience it, but this is what the Dark Kingdom specializes in:  causing misery and suffering, eroding societies, even entire worlds from within like a cancer.  And that’s why we’ve dedicated our lives to stopping them.  As for the here and now, we need to formulate a strategy to combat this situation.  Can we count on your cooperation?”

Ursola nodded.  “Most definitely, Commander.  If it’s within my power, I will help you.”

“Good.”  Ryvvius turned to another area of the living room where Miriele and McDowell were busy looking over a cache of items taken from the bodies of the DK soldiers the security team had killed in the church.  “Ensign?  What have you got on the gadgets we liberated from our deceased playmates?”

“Well, sir, judging from what I’m seeing, these popguns are no big deal.  Piss poor technology compared to what we use, but still effective for killing people,” said McDowell, examining one of the enemy pistols.  “Other than the communicator Lieutenant Miriele has, a few knives and packets of what I’m guessing are MRE’s- I don’t even want to speculate on what DK food tastes like- the only other item of note is a crude version of our microcomp.  These guys were traveling light, no doubt to cut down on the chances of their gear falling into enemy hands should they get caught, or killed.”

“Any chance of that stuff being booby-trapped and blowing up in our faces?” the Cygnian asked, a look of concern on his face.

McDowell shook his head.  “Doubt it.  This junk isn’t that sophisticated.”

Ursola frowned.  “I hope you’re right, Ensign.  My wife just redecorated last year.  If an exploding weapon doesn’t kill me outright, she certainly will if I allow this place to be damaged.”

Ryvvius grinned.  Despite the initial dislike he and the away team had for the Pollusians, he was beginning to warm up to them.  “Don’t worry, Mr. Ursola.  We’ll do our best not to soil the carpets.  Lieutenant, what about the communicator?”

“Not much more advanced than their weapons, sir.  The encryption technology is rudimentary, mildly complicated at best, effective only against someone who doesn’t have the skills to crack their codes,” Miriele replied crisply as she held the DK communicator.

“I’m assuming you have those skills?”

The Vegan officer smiled confidently at her superior.  “Most definitely, sir.  I finished at the top of my class in code breaking at the Academy.  Got the highest grades in over thirty years, earning me a commendation from Sailor Uranus, who wanted to recruit me into LISA.  But I wanted to go into space.  What do you need?”

“Check to see what messages, if any were saved in memory and what they were about.  Get any names you can find of possible Infiltrator-disguised Pollusians and coordinate whatever info you can dig up on their microcomp about the DK’s plans to destabilize Pollus.  We need to know what, where, and, more importantly, when.  Can you comply, Lieutenant?”

Miriele nodded.  A look of youthful eagerness was in her eyes as she was finally getting her chance to directly contribute to the mission.  “Consider it done, sir.”

“Good girl.”

             “Commander?  What about Sailor Siryn?  Shouldn’t we find a way of appraising her of this situation?” LeClerc asked.  “Or, at the very least, let her know what’s happened to us?  By now, she’s bound to know we aren’t in the palace.”

“All in due time, Ensign.  We still can’t rule out the possibility of our comms being monitored by the enemy.  Sailor Siryn has every confidence that we can take care of ourselves.  Besides, I’m sure she has more important things on her mind at present.”

Royal Hall

            Sailor Siryn wore a grim expression on her face as the Infiltrator posing as Austrum revealed himself to the momentarily silent council chamber, which was still in shambles from her having unleashed the frightening power of her sonic scream. 

            She shared a dour look with Counselor Ventura, both of whom were mildly surprised, but nothing more, to see a creature of the Dark Kingdom here sowing the seeds of chaos.  To be honest, I was halfway expecting something like this ever since we received the Doctor’s report on the instability here, Sailor Siryn grimly admitted to herself.

            The reactions of the council members, military, and church of Pollus were vastly different.  They were varied, but could be lumped together under the categories of pure shock and utter horror.  All Pollusians near the Infiltrator backpedaled hastily away; Zhitenn was silently mouthing a prayer as Drocargh crouched and slowly came up with a weapon knocked loose during Sailor Siryn’s earlier sonic barrage.

            The Infiltrator surveyed the scene, its fanged maw slowly widening into a feral, hungry grin, as a predator surveying its prey.  “I am Carnus.”

            “Where is Austrum?” demanded Kodos.

            “Gone.  Typically, when an Infiltrator copies somebody, they slaughter the individual they’re impersonating,” Sailor Siryn said, an edge of anger on her voice.

            “In other words,” Ventura put in, her voice taut with tension, “Austrum is dead… and probably died horribly, and with his body mutilated afterwards; these creatures are nothing if not sadistic.”

            Kodos’ eyes widened, as did Carnus’ grin.

            “We’ve had plenty of experience dealing with these types of DK monsters,” Sailor Siryn added grimly.  “Although I thought Infiltrators were on their way out, what with the horror of Slashers…”

            “Do you honestly think that beings with such great utility, such as myself, will ever truly be obsolete?” Carnus laughed wickedly.  “Oh, it is true that for absolute killing mayhem, the bio-soldiers you call ‘Slashers’, and their leadership cast, are superior to us; but for missions such as this one we Infiltrators are still quite valuable.”

            “And what mission is that, per say?” Drocargh asked quietly.

            “Why, by taking over the identity of Austrum, I was able to use his influence to sneak in numerous other Infiltrators onto Pollus to take over various roles in the military and the church; the goal, of course, being to slowly and covertly bring everything crashing down by planting the seeds of dissent and chaos.  One method was to purposefully leak Kodos’ secret plans to outlaw the church, knowing that such information would lead the other factions to rise against the council,” smirked Carnus, sparing an arrogant glance in the direction of the scowling council leader.

            “This would naturally eventually lead to insurrection, perhaps a coup… but who would take over?  Anarchy would be the result, with this planet leaderless.  Prime conditions for troops in the military, under my command, to seize power and await reinforcement, taking control of the planet for the Dark Kingdom; in the meantime, my troops in the council and church would then covertly slaughter any higher-ranking or willful-minded individuals remaining after said insurrection.  This would then leave the people of Pollus with a choice:  slavery, or death.  And it would give us a badly needed boost in resources and technology… which we do so desperately need, thanks in no small part to the likes of you.”  As he finished his rant, Carnus skewered the two GM officers with his glare.

            “I’m sorry?” Ventura said, confused.

            “I think he’s referring to the actions of the crews of the Orion and Bahumat from two years ago,” Sailor Siryn said dryly.  “And the results of the Battle of the Alpha Zone.”

            Kodos balled his fists.  “I don’t care about any of that, you FIEND!” he roared, charging the Infiltrator.

            Carnus didn’t even blink; he raised one arm and casually swatted the attacking Kodos aside, with a spray of darker magenta blood coming from Kodos due to the impact; Kodos slammed into the wall behind Carnus upside down, and crumpled into a heap.

            “Would anyone else care to repeat his mistake?” Carnus growled, slowly scanning the cowering Pollusians.  Any resistance the Pollusians had thought about putting up had just died with the single blow that had felled Kodos; now open fear was evident on most of their faces.

            Sailor Siryn stepped forward.  “I must say,” she said reluctantly, “that the DK, while it is many things, is certainly not stupid; never has been.  I am… impressed with the intricacy of your plan.”

            Carnus gave a snort.  “I’ll bet that was hard for you to say, Senshi trash.”

            Sailor Siryn nodded, her expression hardening.  “More than you’ll ever know.”  She dropped back into a combat stance, light on the balls of her feet, her arms coming up, hands forming into fists.  “But it ends here; I won’t allow your plan to succeed.”

             Carnus laughed, condescendingly, mockingly.  “It has already begun, both here on the planet, and with opportunity presenting itself with such a juicy target, in space with a confrontation with the Andromeda.“

            Shocked, Sailor Siryn’s jaw dropped, before she regained her senses.  “What!?  Why you-“  She cut off her exclamation, took a deep breath, and tensed her vocal cords to unleash her power.

            But Carnus was already in motion, flipping over the desk he’d been standing behind, and he charged at the Senshi; he moved with a burst of incredible speed, so fast he was merely a blur to everyone but Sailor Siryn, and got to her just before she could attack.  His top two massive hands clamped around the Senshi’s throat, cutting her off with a strangled gasp; he hoisted her easily off her feet.  “Sorry,” he said caustically, “but I have no interest in hearing you sing again.”

            He began to squeeze; Sailor Siryn, eyes bulging, was now gasping and wheezing for air as she helplessly kicked at him, pounding futilely at the limbs that were slowly depriving her of oxygen; Carnus used his other two arms to block her kicks.  He finally caught both her ankles, restraining her further, and began to laugh as her pounding became more frantic and expression desperate.

            Ventura scowled, and snarled in rage as she glanced about; she scooped up a weapon from one of the stunned soldiers, dropped to one knee, and aimed at Carnus.  “Let her go, monster!  Now!  If you hurt her, I’ll kill you where you stand!”

            Carnus laughed again.  “You willing to shoot your precious Senshi to get at me?” he asked, turning to place Sailor Siryn in Ventura’s line of fire; Sailor Siryn’s blows were becoming slower, feebler.

            Ventura, her blood practically boiling from rage and frustration, clenched her teeth, and slowly lowered the rifle.

            “I thought not,” Carnus smirked as Sailor Siryn went limp.  

            He grinned savagely, took a step back, and then a few steps forward to hurl the helpless Senshi out of one of the shattered windows amidst gasps of shock from the Pollusians in the chamber.

There was a brief moment of silence as her bows and skirt could be heard fluttering in the wind before Sailor Siryn began to fall. 

In standard orbit over Pollus 4, 14 March 2740

            There was a flicker amidst the showering sparks; and suddenly the bridge lighting came back on, full force, practically blinding everybody in the middle of pulling themselves upright.

            Predictably, Setar was the first to react.  “Bridge to sickbay, medical teams required on the bridge; no apparent emergencies.”

            The spark showers from damaged conduits died as repair efforts continued, and Sailor Eldrea staggered clumsily to the captain’s chair, ignoring the moist, sticky warmth of blood running down the side of her face and the throbbing pain in her forehead; she touched the spot, a nasty gash, and her glove came away red and soaked.  Head wounds always bleed a lot, Audra, she told herself.  Shoulda held on to something.  “Report!”

            From the damaged Engineering console, Cooper spoke up.  “It looks like shock damage for the most part… the equivalent of blowing circuit breakers throughout most of the forward part of the ship.  I can’t be sure, though… this damn console’s going in and out on me.”

            “Tactical?” Sailor Eldrea said as a wave of dizziness passed over her; she shook it off.  Her enhanced healing was already kicking in.

            Khatari grunted.  “Shields forward are down to layer two… at twelve percent.  Dorsal, ventral, port, and starboard arcs are down to layer two, sixty-three percent; aft shielding is at full potential.  I am reading no charge in forward blaster arrays or either proton cannon, though all torpedo tubes appear to be fully operational.  The TPA is also offline.  Jamming systems functional.”

            As Khatari finished his report, the lift doors hissed open, revealing T’Sheyra and another nurse from sickbay, toting medkits.  They promptly set to work, T’Sheyra moving instantly to the most obviously wounded Sailor Eldrea.  Amidst the medical personnel treating the relatively minor injuries Sailor Eldrea raised her voice.  “Bridge to Engineering.  Topper, what have you got?”

            “I do believe we’re in one piece, Captain,” Topper replied.  “No real physical damage; the shields took the brunt of the attack, as did the tractor systems.  The tractors are fried, a good ten to twelve hours to fix those.  Most of the rest was energy backlash.  Emergency relays blown in several major systems:  weapons, long-range communications, sensors… but we’re resetting and repairing those now.  Some shock damage to environmental systems and RIFT coils; I have teams looking at those elements as we speak.  Estimate five to ten minutes for all but shields, RIFT, and tractors to be fixed; I’ll have to keep you informed of RIFT status, but shields should be back up to full power in an hour or two.”

            “Keep on it, then… bridge out.”  Sailor Eldrea nodded her thanks to T’Sheyra as the Vulcan finished her ministrations and the Senshi of Alchemy’s wooziness faded.  “Bridge to Sickbay… Doc, how bad?”

            “Not too bad, Captain,” Doc Ellie’s voice came back.  “Pretty much just bumps and bruises; a few busted limbs.  Give me something more challenging next time, won’t you?”  There was a hint of humor in the doctor’s voice as she spoke; something about laughter being the best medicine…

            “I’ll try not to disappoint,” Sailor Eldrea fought down a laugh.  “Thanks, Doc.  Bridge out.”  She turned to Setar even as the ambient noise level on the bridge rose; monitors which had been dim and flickering suddenly surged to full brightness and the Engineering monitor changed from that hated mostly red shade to largely green.  The RIFT drive was yellow, signifying unknown status; environmental systems changed to green even as Sailor Eldrea watched.

            Cooper spoke up.  “We’re back, captain.  As promised, all but tractors, shields, and RIFT are up and running.”

            “Confirmed,” Khatari said.  “Weapons recharging; status green.”

            “Good,” Sailor Eldrea said.  She turned to Setar.  “Now, precisely what the hell just happened?” 

            “The two defecting vessels fired upon Kestrel’s ship and are responsible for its destruction,” Setar replied calmly.  “Now that full sensor capability has been regained, I have ascertained that both of their vessels were badly damaged in the detonation; they are worse off than the ships that participated in the battle.”

            “I just don’t get these people,” Sailor Eldrea said slowly, trying to come to grips with her own fury and frustration.  In a far off corner of her mind, the Senshi of Alchemy wondered if Khatari had had the right idea after all.  She quickly dismissed that grim thought; convinced her actions were just and proper.  “When it comes to destroying each other, they’re far more proficient than humans ever were.” 

“A sad but true fact, ma’am,” Setar replied.

She sighed.  “Bridge to Flight Control; bring the fighters back in, close Combat Air Patrol; have them come aboard and rearm their torpedo loads in relays.”  She paused, and shook her brown-haired head.  “Damn it all.  Kwan, get me V’lnova.”

            “On screen two, ma’am,” Kwan replied as the other nurse finished tending to him.

            The screen blinked on to show a smoke and spark filled bridge, and a coughing V’lnova.

            “Just what the hell did you think you were doing, Leftenant, firing on Kestrel’s ship when I earlier specifically ordered you to stand down and stay out of it?” Sailor Eldrea all but snarled, a surge of anger getting the better of her.

            V’lnova winced.  Openly frightened, he swallowed before replying.  “I had no choice, ma’am,” he said nervously.  “I had to take action to destroy Kestrel; if he’d succeeded in his suicide run, we’d be dead right now.”  He paused, and added timidly, “we saved you trouble of having to do the deed yourself, and thus the guilt from taking those lives.”

            “A murderous and cutthroat rationale if I ever heard one,” Sailor Eldrea scowled.  “One that I truly detest.  How the hell…”  She gritted her teeth, and clenched her fists, fighting her soaring temper.  Temper, Audra, Dammit!  Calm the fuck down!  You need to be cool here, to think clearly!  She took a deep breath.  “You can live with having killed your own countrymen?”

            V’lnova nodded slowly.  “Honor doesn’t mean dying for a cause I no longer believe in; and my crew, and that of Leftenant G’denel and the crew of the other destroyer, all feel the same way.”  He paused.  “I don’t necessarily expect you to understand, but we’re desperate here, Captain, desperate.  And I need to have a private audience with you; due to sensitive information I have regarding a planned coup against the council, and why that coup is being planned in the first place.”

            He’s awfully insistent all of a sudden, Sailor Eldrea thought.  “How sensitive?”

            “Sensitive enough that I cannot reveal anything more over an open channel for fear of being monitored from the planet,” V’lnova replied.

            Curiosity warred with suspicion in Sailor Eldrea’s mind.  We do need to get to the bottom of this…  “Very well, Leftenant,” she said after a moment’s thought.  “I will still send a shuttle over to pick up you, Leftenant G’denel, and your principal aides, and bring you here; but we'll be watching all of you very closely.  You’ll understand if at the moment I don’t fully trust you after the stunt you just pulled.”

            “I understand, Captain.  I thank you.”  The screen went dark, and Sailor Eldrea let out a long breath.

            “Okay, this officially makes my skin crawl; something is up, something I have a feeling we’re not going to like,” she commented aloud.  “I’ll want full security teams on those Pollusians while they’re aboard.  Tactical, maintain a full weapons lock, ready to fire the moment they try anything; should they make some sort of offensive gesture, take them out… if our fighters can’t do it first, that is.”

            “Captain, I want to go on the record saying that bringing them here is a bad idea, especially after what just happened.  With that in mind, I strongly recommend having this meeting with V’lnova in the hanger bay,” Khatari growled.  “Hospitality be damned, he doesn’t deserve it after blowing Kestrel to bits, nor do the Pollusians need to see any more of the ship than absolutely necessary.  Besides, the bays are one of the most heavily reinforced areas on the ship, so if anything goes wrong, at least it won’t happen in a vulnerable area.”

            Sailor Eldrea crossed her arms and nodded as she found the Isbanni’s suggestion sound.  Khatari’s a major pain in the ass- I wonder if he gives Fiona this much trouble- but he’s dead right on this score.  The Crystal only knows what could go wrong with V’lnova and his people onboard.  I can’t afford to take any chances, not with the ship at less than one hundred percent.

            “I agree wholeheartedly.  Have those security teams posted inside and outside the main bay.  Ops, arrange to have chairs set up for our... guests.  Bridge to Flight Control, have Gambler maintain anti-ship presence around the defectors; if they pull a fast one, take out engines and disable them… assuming they fix anything.”  She paused.  “Khatari, this time you are cleared for lethal force if it becomes necessary.  And your protest is duly noted.”  She frowned at the main viewscreen.  “If anybody has anything else to offer, sound off now.”

            “Ma’am!” Kwan spoke up.  “I just intercepted a communication from Pollusian military headquarters.  They’re trying to contact Kestrel!”

            “Well, they’re going to find that task just a little difficult,” Sailor Eldrea said wryly.  “He’s kinda vaporized.”  She closed her eyes, rubbing her forehead where she hit it.  When she opened her amber eyes, and surveyed the bridge, her expression was weary.

            She sighed.  “Oh, boy.  Here’s where the shit really hits the fan!” 

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

            Carnus’ evil laughter echoed throughout the chamber.  “I hope your Senshi enjoyed the twenty-story fall to her death.”

            “FIONA!” screamed a wide-eyed Ventura in abject horror.  Hysteria set in, and she leveled her scrounged weapon and began pumping energy beams in the general direction of Carnus as she was intent on destroying the creature, her rage boundless in her determination on avenging the death of her captain. 

            The Infiltrator ducked under the fire, but not the streams of fire of Drocargh and two of his assistants, who joined in the sudden assault.  He staggered for a moment, and then shrugged off the effects, even as Ventura’s fire began to hit; the Infiltrator waded through the energy beam impacts, surrounded in almost a continuous nimbus of electrical discharge.  He reached the soldiers and swatted them aside like rag dolls; both hit the walls with very loud thuds and slumped at sickening angles.  Drocargh was more fortunate, sliding across the floor; he came to rest, stunned, at Zhitenn’s feet.

            Carnus grabbed Ventura by the throat, knocking the gun out of her hand almost as an afterthought.  “Damn ray blasts stung, bitch.  For that, you’re going to join your precious Senshi as a blood smear on the ground below.”

            Suddenly, an eerie, low-octave wail drew everyone’s attention to the window that Sailor Siryn had been thrown out of, only to see her floating there, her lips pursed; the air was rippling around her from the sonic energy she was generating.  In an afternoon of shocks, this was by far one of the biggest.

            Carnus dropped Ventura, stunned, and turned towards Sailor Siryn as she flipped herself gracefully back inside, landing coolly and precisely, and glaring daggers at the Infiltrator.

            She opened her mouth.

            A powerful blast of pure sound smashed into Carnus, taking him up off of his feet and smashing him into the far side of the chamber, hard enough so that black ichor could be seen splattering; one arm hung useless before the beast crumpled in a heap.

            As Sailor Siryn continued to stare hatefully at the Infiltrator, Ventura, shaking, regained her feet.  “H-H-How?” she stammered in shock.  “Y-you should be dead.”

            Sailor Siryn’s lips slowly curved in a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.  “Not quite.  Owing to the properties of sound, gravity, and atmosphere, I can use my powers to generate a sonic field that allows me to cancel gravity and fly,” she explained casually.  “It’s obviously a little more complex than that, but you get the general idea.”  She smirked.  “Guess you missed that memo, eh, lassie?”

            Ventura sighed and relaxed, and a rueful smile graced the beautiful black woman’s lips.  Inwardly, Ventura was a confused morass of emotions:  she was relieved that her captain was alive and well, but confused and ashamed of her own reaction to the situation.  I should be better able to control myself, she thought acrimoniously.

            Any further reflection was cut off as Carnus slowly stirred, snarling with rage and pain.  “I’m going to kill you, bitch!  I’ll cut your neck and bleed you dry!  I’ll rip your limbs off and make you scream!”  The injured Infiltrator got to its feet.

            Sailor Siryn felt rage overtake her again, but this time maintained control, knowing that it was essential to defeating the creature.  “Bring it, asshole,” she growled, staring the Infiltrator down.  “Just bring it.  Give it your best shot, because it’s going to be your last.  Counselor, everyone, get behind me.”  Sailor Siryn tensed her vocal cords, and reached deep down, touching the burning inferno of raw power at the core of every Senshi, preparing to unleash her abilities to their fullest; she was only dimly aware of Ventura and all of the Pollusians complying with her request.

            Carnus, now on his feet, laughed as he lurched towards the Irish woman, murder on his mind.  “I’ve already withstood your scream, twice, Senshi; I can do it again.”

            Sailor Siryn laughed back as the heat of her power coursed through her veins, racing to her throat, which had begun to glow with a golden aura.  “Do you honestly think that’s all the power a Sailor Senshi in the service of Neo-Queen Serenity the First can muster?  Do you honestly think that’s all I had to give?”  She took a deep breath.  “That’s but a mere fraction of my power!  LAUGH THIS OFF, SHITBAG!”

            The blast of sound that followed caused everyone in the room to cower and cover their ears; the force of the concentrated blast slammed into Carnus head on.  The air visibly rippled, and then, as the assault continued, the marble floor itself began to ripple and crack, all remaining glass and crystal shattered, and the whole chamber began to shake mightily.

            This was just the build up.

            The concentrated sonic barrage was suddenly let forth in a piercing scream of tremendous power that left those sheltered behind Sailor Siryn stunned, in pain, and gasping for breath from the pressure and impact of the sheer sonic force the Senshi of Sound unleashed.  Carnus was instantly blasted off of his feet and smashed through the marble wall to the antechamber beyond, and through that yet again, as rubble blasted outward from the side of the building to fall to the ground below.  Part of the ceiling caved in atop Carnus; jagged shards of rock piercing him; more of that debris was carried on the force of the scream out of the widening hole in the side of the building.

            Finally, Sailor Siryn closed her mouth, and blessed silence fell.  A few muted rumbles echoed as a last few chunks of debris finished shifting position.  The Irish Senshi briefly allowed a savage grin to curl her lips.

            Serenity’s crown!  I haven’t cut loose like that in a long time.  Damned if that didn’t feel good!

            The sound of Sailor Siryn’s footsteps sounded abnormally loud as she calmly, confidently strode through the opening she’d created to the pile of debris where Carnus lay half buried, a puddle of black ichor spreading on the floor.

            The Infiltrator was in a bad way; several marble shards the size of scythe blades and larger had him pinned to the side of the opening that led out of the building; the wind whistled past.  His remaining limbs were all bent in impossible angles; one of his arms was missing completely, and half of his right leg.  His breathing was hoarse, and erratic.  Ichor was coming out of him in spurts.

            “Now,” Sailor Siryn said sweetly, “now you have an idea of what my true power is like.  So, where are the other Infiltrators, the ones in the military and the church?  Who are they copying?  Answer me!”

            “Go… to… hell… Senshi bitch…” gasped Carnus, who roused himself enough to spit black ichor on Sailor Siryn’s boots. 

Sailor Siryn glanced at her footwear for a second, and then glanced up at where Ventura and the Pollusians where picking themselves up, expressions of awe, shock, and fear on their faces. 

“Counselor?”  Sailor Siryn said, and then indicated one of the Pollusian weapons.

“Captain?” Ventura said as she picked it up and checked the charge.

Sailor Siryn turned back, her expression glacial.  “Finish him,” she snarled, her voice cold with fury.

Ventura walked up, leveled the weapon, and pointed it right at Carnus’ head.  She pulled the trigger, and the Infiltrator jerked once as the energy blast seared into him before going completely still.  A vicious sneer curled her lips as the ebon beauty glared at the now headless body, smoking from the charred neck.  “That’s for striking me earlier.  Now we’re even, cocksucker.”

Sailor Siryn smiled warmly at the black woman.  “Despite myself, I find I like your attitude.  By the way, that’s twice you’ve called me Fiona in public.  Familiarization aside, do try not to make that a habit…  Lieutenant.”

Ventura wryly returned the smile.  She no longer tried to deny the obvious:  she liked the Irish Senshi.  “I’ll endeavor to be more careful in the future…  Captain.” 

Then, her expression hardened.  “Shall we go back to work?  I believe I’ve figured out why Kodos is seeking to abolish the church.”

Marquis City

It had taken the better part of twenty minutes, but Miriele, working quickly but efficiently, proved to be good as her word, cracking the encryption on the DK communicator and microcomp; easily deciphering the alien language and jotting down information on her own microcomp while Ursola filled in Ryvvius and the others about his suspicions about an enemy agent being on the council.

Finally, the Vegan girl finished her task and stretched in her seat.  “I’m done, Commander.  I think you’ll find what I’ve discovered highly interesting,” she said to Ryvvius, holding out her microcomp.

“Excellent work, Cassandra.  This could well be the break we’ve been looking for,” said the Cygnian as he took the device from Miriele and read what was on the screen for several moments.  As Ryvvius read, his brows furrowed from deep concern.  “However, I’ll have to deduct points for understating the magnitude of the information you gathered.  This goes far beyond interesting, it’s downright terrifying.”

“What is it?” a worried Ursola asked.

“In a word, Mr. Ursola, trouble.  According to what the Lieutenant dug up from the DK comm device and microcomp, there are over two hundred deep cover DK agents on Pollus, some of whom are in positions of importance throughout the military and the church,” Ryvvius replied.  “Not only is there a ringer on the council like you suspected, but another councilmember, Mularen, a native Pollusian, is secretly working for the DK.  Even worse, the spies in the upper echelon of the military are planning a sneak attack on Andromeda.  Damn!  This is not good.  Not good at all.”

“Not good?  Pardon my French, sir, but this is a first class goatfuck.  Two hundred DK undercover agents?  Are you kidding me?” said a scowling McDowell.  “We’re in over our heads, plain and simple.  To hell with radio silence, Commander, Andromeda has to be warned, and Sailor Siryn needs to know about what’s happening!  Right now!”

Ryvvius folded his arms over his chest and frowned as he weighed the standard RSN protocols of maintaining radio silence when in hostile territory, or breaking that discipline while in the teeth of an emergency situation such as the one he and the landing party were currently in.  While revealing their location could get them all killed by enemy forces, keeping quiet could well endanger everyone on the planet, not to mention Andromeda.  After several long moments, the Cygnian made his decision.

“Ensign, you’re absolutely right.  Sailor Siryn has to know, but not over the airwaves,” he said.  “Our playmates, in addition to monitoring our comms, could conceivably jam them as well.  We’ll have to tell her in person.  Which means we have to get back into the palace.  Immediately.”

“But, sir, you speculated that the palace could be watched by the enemy.  How do we get back in?” a curious Miriele wanted to know.

Ryvvius turned to Ursola.  “You led the Lieutenant and I out of the palace via some sort of secret passageway, I’m assuming.  Is there any way you can get us back to the entrance to that passageway?  And does anyone outside of the late Mr. Kotou know about it?”

“I can get you back there.  In fact, I have a small cargo truck in the garage to hide you and your party in.  My wife, an interior decorator, uses it to transport furniture,” said Ursola.  “As for who else knows about the passageway, I’m sorry to say I have no idea if Kotou told anyone else.”

“Hmm.  I see.  Well, it would appear that the passageway is the best possible option for sneaking back into the palace.  We'll just have to take our chances that we can get in without incident.”

“I could call for assistance.  The church maintains a special service department called Crusaders who serve as a guard force,” Ursola offered.  “They number about one hundred thousand and are stationed in detachments in every city on the planet.  The Crusaders are very efficient, almost as efficient as the military itself.  Their commander and I are friends.  They could offer us protection, and root out the DK spies.”

Ryvvius shook his head.  “Not a bad idea, but after the faux pas with Kotou, we don't know who's a spy or not; nor can we afford to blow our cover, otherwise, we’ll tip our hands to the enemy that we’re onto them.”

 “Commander, I just found something else,” Miriele piped up.  “It seems that all of the agents had a sub dermal, electronic device inserted into their skulls for use as a self-destruct mechanism; one that kills by setting off an organic explosive that ruptures blood vessels to the brain, resorting in cerebral hemorrhages.  And the destruct code is linked to the communicator of the operation’s leader.  A failsafe should their mission here fail and he decides that all the agents be killed rather than face capture.”

“Is that a fact?  Very interesting,” said Ryvvius, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.  “I’m going to hazard a guess and say the leader is either Austrum or Mularen.  Suddenly, things are looking up.  Mr. Ursola, ready your truck.  We have traveling to do!”

TO BE CONTINUED...

 

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