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LUNAR: The Lost Episodes

By Jeffery Branch

Volume Thirty-six: Episode 3-4.83 "Intelligence"

Rated: R

Dreyious Prime, Sagittarian District, Argus City, 8 June 2740

The Sagittarian District, the northernmost landmass on the planet, had a year round average temperature of 12 degrees Celsius, approximating November on the east coast of the old United States on Earth.

On the other hand, its winters were particularly cold and harsh, with average yearly snowfall totals of over eight meters.  With some areas being hilly and mountainous, the region made for exceptionally good skiing and snowboarding after those sports had been introduced to the indigenous populace by visiting Lunarians, thus sparking a highly successful tourist and vacation trade.  For Sailors Magneta and Sirius, along with LISA Special Agent Franklin Marley, standing next to a hovercar that sat far off from the normal roads and staring out at a vast expanse of gray hued mountain range, dotted by scores of chalets and lodges, they found its beauty inescapable.

“Impressive.  Most impressive.  It reminds me of the Bavarian Alps,” said Sailor Magneta, a wistful smile on her lips.  “I can only imagine how beautiful this area must look in winter when covered by snow.”

Sailor Sirius, no fan of winter weather made a face.  “Yuck! You can have it, boss.  Me and snow have never been the best of friends.  Just thinking about the white stuff makes me break out in hives.”

“That makes two of us, Sailor Sirius,” Marley added with a chuckle.  “I’m from Jamaica, so give me a beachfront condo on Wakiki any day.”

“Bah!  Warm weather weaklings!” the German Senshi jokingly chided her partners.  She found the brisk mountain air highly invigorating, and it brightened her once dour disposition.  She then focused her attention on the business at hand.  “Sailor Sirius, any new readings?”

The Senshi of the Stars checked her microcomp.  The viewing screen was blank.  “Not a thing, Sailor M.  We’ve been in this region for three hours now and haven’t found squat.  If you ask me, this is starting to look like your typical, garden variety, wild goose chase.”

“Maybe, Sailor Sirius.  Maybe not.  Still, I think we should stick around and search for as long as necessary,” said the tall black agent.  “Since this is the sparsest populated area on the planet, relatively speaking, this would be an ideal place to hide a secret base and go relatively unnoticed.”

Sailor Magneta nodded.  “A sound hypothesis, Agent Marley.  It’s possible that a hidden base might be shielded from scanners.  Perhaps underground.  Are there any caves or caverns nearby?”

Marley consulted a microcomp he removed from a pouch on his belt and punched a few keys.  “Hmm.  There’s a series of large caverns twelve klicks to the northwest.  According to the planet’s informational database, it’s called the Argus Caves, a popular recreational hotspot for spelunkers and geologists.  Hundreds of people pass through those caves every day.  Given the pedestrian traffic, I couldn’t imagine a hideout being there.”

“Why not?  Anything’s possible if you’re clever enough to pull it off.  And I’m sure these bad guys probably have cleverness up the wazoo,” said Sailor Sirius.  She then turned to Sailor Magneta.  “What do you think, boss?  Worth checking out?”

“Absolutely.  If but for no other reason than to eliminate the caves from consideration,” Sailor Magneta replied with a nod.  “I do some spelunking on the side, so I’ll be able to spot anything in the way of irregularities when I see it.  Let’s check it out.”

Dreyious Prime, Capricorn City, The Asteroid Lounge, 8 June 2740  

          For Sailors Ebony, Ivory and Cerebra, along with LISA Agent Agnetha Lindstrom, being surrounded by two dozen scowling men, armed with knives and clubs, was not something they found at all appealing.

Not good, Liz.  These shitheads are itching to fight.  While I’m always up for some ass-kicking, a brawl will raise one hell of a riot, something we can’t afford, Sailor Ivory thought to her twin.  You’re the leader for our group, sis.  Any ideas on how to keep this from turning into a grade-A clusterfuck?

I’m working on it, Cat, Sailor Ebony silently replied, quickly going over options.  I no more want this situation to blow up in our faces than you do.

A moment, ladies.  Aggie is about to pose a question to the bartender, Sailor Cerebra thought to the sisters.

Hey!  Who let you in? a startled Sailor Ivory demanded.

            You forget, Cathy.  I’m a telepath.  Your psionic exchanges with Beth are easy for me to pick up.  Let’s wait to see if Aggie can uncover a reason for the rancor.  Then we can act, if necessary.

“Hey, friend.  There’s no need for this.  We don’t want any trouble,” said Aggie in a friendly, disarming tone.  But the agent’s every muscle was tensed in anticipation of a battle.  “Who was in here earlier asking about Rydos?  It might be someone I know.”

The bartender, scowling fiercely, shrugged, then nodded to the mob of men and they stood their ground.  “Some redheaded dame in black leather with big tits and even bigger guns.  She worked over three of my regulars then took one with her.”

Hearing that, Aggie frowned as the description rang a bell.  She slowly pulled out a microcomp, causing the mob to tense up until they saw what she held in her hand.  Aggie punched a few keys, and then held the instrument in front of the bartender who scowled at seeing the face of Moira Cassidy on the instrument’s viewscreen.  “Is this her?” Aggie asked.

“Yeah, that’s the bitch.  Said she was a bounty hunter.  You know her?”

“I know of her.  Thanks for your cooperation,” Aggie replied.

The bartender, startled, did a double take.  “That’s it?  That’s all?”

Aggie smiled.  “Yup.  See?  That wasn’t too hard, was it?”

“That depends,” said one of the thugs, a beefy seven footer with a leering grin on his face.  Several of his fellows also leered at the women who all knew what was on their minds.  As one, they all came closer.  “You chicks are real fine pieces of meat.  We’re gonna enjoy playing with you.  If you know what I mean.”

“We do.  And that is not going to happen!” an angry Sailor Cerebra snarled.  Having accepted and embraced the fact that she was a lesbian like her teammate and lover, Sailor Ebony, the Chinese Senshi was furious at the notion of even being touched by a man, never mind violated by one.  The brows of the Asian woman furrowed as she brought her mind powers to bear.

“Cerebra Telepathic... Control,” she whispered.  Almost instantly, the mob went ramrod stuff, their eyes glazed over as Sailor Cerebra put the mob under her control and commanded them to freeze in place.  That took everyone, save the Senshi, by surprise.

“Uh, what’s going on?” a puzzled Aggie asked.

“Not here,” Sailor Ivory whispered to the LISA agent.  Then she turned to the bartender and smiled.  “Thanks for your time, sir.  Have a nice day.”  And with that, Sailor Ebony hustled her partners out of the bar.  Only after they traveled several blocks, did they stop and look behind them.

“Okay, Sailor C.  You can let them go now,” said Sailor Ebony.  She keenly felt her soulmate’s anger and knew the reason behind it.  Being touched and groped by men disgusted her as well.

With a nod, the Chinese Senshi blinked.  “They have been released.”

Aggie was mildly irritated with being left out of the loop.  “Mind telling me what happened back there?”

“Sailor Cerebra’s a telepath, Aggie.  She put a major fucking mental whammy on that mob,” said a grinning Sailor Ivory.  “Saved us from getting into a donnybrook that would’ve trashed our low profile.  And gotten us in big trouble with Sailor Magneta.”

“It was the least I could do,” Sailor Cerebra said simply, her stony demeanor reestablished.  She then turned to Aggie.  “Onto more important topics, who was this person the bartender mentioned?”

Aggie displayed her microcomp with Moira’s face on the screen for the Senshi to see.  “This is one of the bounty hunters LISA employed to search for Rydos.  We keep a database on all the, er… independent contractors we hire.  She calls herself ‘Scarlett’, we don’t know her real name.  Rumor has it she’s a real touch chick.  Ladies, I’m starting to think Rydos may well be tied in to that arms operation.  C’mon, we’re going to the spaceport!”

“Why there?” Sailor Ebony asked.

“We also have a record on the ships flown by bounty hunters.  Scarlett pilots a black cruiser called ‘Renegade’.  We find that ship, we might just get a leg up on where she’s gone, and possibly on where Rydos is hiding!”

Dreyious Prime, fifty-five kilometers outside Capricorn City, 8 June 2740  

The gunmetal gray colored vehicle, styled like the late 20th century sport utility vehicle called the Hummer, but bulkier with a wraparound windshield and larger tires, sped down the street, attracting puzzled glances since all vehicles in the 28th century were hovercars.  To see anything with tires these days was a rarity.

Behind the wheel of the vehicle, Scarlett, wearing a black leather bomber jacket over a dark gray turtleneck and skin tight, black leather pants tucked into knee high, black riding boots hummed along to a 700 plus year old rock and roll song, “I Can’t Drive 55” by Sammy Hagar, that played on the in-dash, iso-chip stereo system.  Darby Rollins, her unwilling partner, strapped into the passenger seat observed her with a curious eye.

“Why all the old stuff, sweetheart?” he asked.  “This thing looks like it should be in the Smithsonian.”

Scarlett, wearing her red, teardrop earrings, chuckled.  “I won’t deny that, laddie.  In fact, I stole this from an automotive museum on Luna three years ago.  I’ve always loved antiques.”  She paused to lovingly pat the dashboard.  “Even though Rambler’s around five centuries old, she runs like a top.  Hey, Rhett!  How’re we doin’?”

“You’re right on course, boss,” came back the voice of Renegade’s AI over a speaker in the middle of the dashboard.  “If you’ll check the viewscreen, you’re about half a klick away from that depot.”

Scarlett looked at a seven-inch square color viewscreen on the dash beneath the speaker.  The display was in a map mode, showing Rambler as a red arrow moving northeast.  “Hmm, this area looks to be more residential than commercial.  Darby, is that a privately owned launch depot?”

“Yeah.  Rydos owns the building.  It’s part of a legitimate business run by a subsidiary he’s involved with,” Rollins replied with a nod.  “The company does paint and bodywork for spaceships throughout the sector.  With ships getting dinged up going through the asteroid field, they get lots of business.  That gives Rydos legal access to permits for space travel.  He also gets a cut of the profits as part of the rental agreement.”

“Pretty sweet.  Rydos thought of everything.  It’ll make bringing him in for the bounty all the more rewarding, pardon the pun.”  Scarlett slowed down when she saw a four-story building with a Skylark class cargo shuttle on launching pad in the main courtyard.  A three-meter tall electronic fence surrounded the property.  “Is that the place?”

“That’s it.  I’m assuming you’re gonna come along, huh?”

“Of course.  I can’t grab Rydos from down here,” said Scarlett with a nod.  “Does that present a problem?”

“Uh-huh.  Security to the base is tighter than those pants you’ve got on.  How’re you gonna get aboard?”

“Oh, I have my ways.”  Scarlett then shot Rollins a hard stare.  “A word of warning, stud:  don’t screw me over.  If you do, there won’t be a place in the whole fucking universe that you’ll be able to hide from me.  That’s no threat, laddie, it’s a promise.  Got me?”

Rollins gulped.  The unmistakable menace in Scarlett’s voice unnerved him.  “Yes, ma’am.”

At the entrance gate of the depot, a sharp-eyed guard watched as the vehicle pulled to a stop a few meters away.  The passenger side door opened and Darby climbed out.  He paused to grin and wave at a smiling Scarlett before walking to the gate as the vehicle pulled away.

“You’re late, Rollins,” the guard grunted.  “Who was the broad?”

“A high class hooker I met at the Asteroid Lounge,” Rollins replied with a grin.  “She’s a firecracker!”

The guard grinned.  “I’m sure she was.  All the babes in Cap City are hot.  Get aboard.  The ship launches in five minutes.”

“Roger that,” said Rollins, wondering how Scarlett would get onboard the ship.

Scarlett drove around the corner from the gate and parked in a nearby lot.  After securing RSN hand blasters in shoulder holsters and checking the .50 Desert Eagle autoloader strapped to her right thigh and the combat knife in her right boot, Scarlett spoke into a communicator on her left wrist.

“Rhett, I’m about to run silent.  I’ll be back in contact after I finish the job.  Activate level two ship security,” she said.

“Roger that.  Level two on.  Watch your ass up there.”

“I intend to, laddie.  Over and out.”

Scarlett climbed out of the vehicle and trotted over to the fence.  She scanned the launch pad for guards and didn’t see any, other than at the gate; taking a deep breath, the bounty hunter went into a semi-crouch, then leaped high into the air, clearing the fence with astonishing ease and landed on the other side with all the grace of an Olympic gymnast.

After touching down, Scarlett ran to the rear of the shuttlecraft, kneeling by one of the compartments, Scarlett removed a small box from the right pocket of her jacket, which had two lights on it, one red, the other green, and a small keypad beneath them.  She placed the box on the door near the lock which affixed itself magnetically, pressed several buttons and, after ten seconds, the green one winked on, effectively scrambling the door’s security sensors and overriding the locking controls, and the door opened two feet.  Grinning, Scarlett removed the box from the door and slid into the compartment just before the door closed.

Once inside, Scarlett looked around her and saw that the compartment was filled with large exterior bulkhead sections lashed to pallets and two meter tall containers marked ‘Heat Tiles’, lending credence to what Rollins said about the starship repair business Rydos was involved in.  Feeling the craft shudder, Scarlett knew the ship was about to lift off, she secreted herself behind one of the containers and sat on the floor in the lotus position for what she figured to be a long trip to wherever Rydos was hiding.

The Shroud, Dreyious Prime, Base Commander’s Office, 8 June 2740  

Henry Bonds felt numb and sleepy as Sorcerer Zulu used his hypnotic powers to probe his mind for information on who he had been caught talking to minutes earlier.  As Sailor Quetzalcoatl and Sorcerer Viking looked on, the tall, gaunt African explored Bonds’ most recent memories, but found nothing of relevant use.

“Talk, meat.  You have no choice.  Who were you speaking with in the men’s room?” Zulu demanded.  “What is his name?  What’s your relationship with him?  Give me answers!  Now!”

“I… I don’t know his real name.  He calls himself ‘Groundhog’,” Bonds answered sluggishly.  “The only time I hear from him is when he needs info from me.”

“What sort of information does this Groundhog ask from you?”

“What sort of ships arrive at the station, and who’s on ‘em.”

“Have you ever met this man?”

“Only once, down in Cap City eight months ago.  But I never saw his face.  He had me abducted from my flat by a couple of his goons one night.  I was blindfolded and he used a voice scrambler while we talked.  Couldn’t tell what race he was,” Bonds explained haltingly.  “Somehow, he knew where I worked, and that I was in deep shit with a loan shark over money I owed from gambling debts.  Groundhog promised to get me off the hook if I helped him.  He gave me the communicator I’ve been using.”

“How often do you hear from this man?”

“Maybe once a week.  There’s never a set schedule, he calls whenever he needs info, or I call when I’ve got something for him.  And even then, we don’t talk long, maybe five minutes tops.”

“Do you have any idea where your contact is located?”

“Nope.  Don’t care either, as long as I get paid.”

Zulu turned to Sailor Quetzalcoatl.  “Anything else, commander?”

The Mexican Senshi, a deep scowl on her face shook her black maned head.  “No.  Put him out for now.”

“Understood.”  Zulu glared hard at Bonds who stiffened in his seat before passing out from a silent command he gave the man to go to sleep.  “Where do we go from here?”

“Back to square one.  Maintaining a low profile.  From the sort of info this Groundhog asked Bonds for, it’s clear that he’s mixed up with whoever’s running that arms ring,” Viking replied.  “And if our mystery man is in regular contact with Bonds, any deviation from that routine would tip off the enemy that we’re on to them.”

“I agree.  Given the circumstances, I see only one option available to us,” said Sailor Quetzalcoatl, arms folded over her chest.

Zulu scowled, suspecting what his superior had in mind.  “You’re talking about letting this slug walk!”

Sailor Quetzalcoatl’s stony silence was her answer.

In another area of the complex, Walter Brock, the Shroud’s LISA section chief, leaned back in his chair behind the closed doors of his office.  After having listened to everything Bonds told Zulu over a speaker on his desk, he rubbed his chin from thought.  Seated in front of his desk was a slender, Korean man with a crewcut who wore a smirk on his face.

“Looks like your decision to have Q’s office bugged after your meeting with her was a good one,” said the man.  “You were right, Walt.  She’s holding out on us.  Big time.”

“I’m not surprised, Seung.  If anything, I expected Q to go behind my back after she pitched a fit over my withholding intel from her.  No doubt she sees this as tit for tat, the only difference is, I did it under orders from a Planetary.  That ill-tempered whore is doing it out of nothing more than spite.”  The broad shouldered Texan paused to let out a derisive snort.  “And people say the high and mighty Senshi are above that sort of immature pettiness.  Bullshit!  Did you place the other bugs where I told you to?”

Seung nodded.  “Yup.  Ventilation shafts, both in her office and her quarters after I bugged their meeting room.  Crawling through those spaces to plant them was a real adventure.  The special casings on the micro-transmitters makes them virtually undetectable to scanners.  What’s the next move?”

“We keep a discreet eye on Mr. Bonds.  I’m guessing Q will have Zulu wipe his short term memory while his communicator’s rigged so she can get a fix on the incoming signal the next time he uses it.  But now, we’re on to them.”  Brock paused to grin wickedly.  “The Houdini brigade’s playing our game now, Seung.  However, we play it better than those amateurs.  Assign Ernesto and Sadira to shadow Bonds.  And make sure our Delta team’s on standby.  We’re gonna get the jump on Q and company.”

“What about Sailor Magneta?  Technically, she’s in charge of this operation.  Chances are she might not like what you’re planning.”

Brock snorted again.  “Fuck that bitch.  My brother’s dead because of her.  I’m not about to bow down and kiss her Kraut ass, even if she does have sub-Planetary level authority.  Besides, she’s down on Prime with Aggie and the boys looking for those WMD’s.  Up here, I’m running the show.  One way or another, my friend, we’ll put an end to this drama!  Not the Senshi!”

Dreyious Prime, Pacifica Ocean, 8 June 2740  

The sleek, fifteen-meter long, winter white sea skimmer, a modern day version of a hydrofoil, breezed through the waters eighty kilometers offshore from Pacifica City.

At the helm of the vessel’s flying bridge, Sailor Russia piloted the boat on an easterly course towards the open sea.  Despite the seriousness of the mission, the brawny Russian woman was enjoying the wind and sea spray in her face.  The broad smile on her black painted lips demonstrated her delight.  In the main cabin below the bridge, LISA agent André Broduer studied oceanographic charts of the region on a computer monitor while Sailor Britannica worked the microcomp to scan beneath the water.

“How far out will we need to travel, Agent Broduer?” the flame haired Briton asked.

“At least another forty klicks, Sailor Britannica,” the LISA agent replied.  “One hundred is an ideal distance.  Presuming planet crackers are tested underwater, the site would have to be pretty far out so shock waves from the warheads don’t register on shore based seismic monitoring stations.  At our present speed, we’ll reach the century mark in just under twenty-five minutes.”

The British Senshi frowned.  “To hell with that.  It’ll be dark by the time we get there.”  She paused to activate her communicator.  “Sailor Russia, increase speed to full, maintain current course.”

“Aye aye, captain!” the Russian replied with undisguised zest.  “If you wish, I can serenade you and Agent Brodeur with old 20th century Russian Navy sailing songs.”

“No, I do not wish!” Sailor Britannica snapped back.  “I’ve heard you sing, troglodyte.  You sound like a water buffalo in heat.”

Sailor Russia’s roaring laugh came through the speakers.  “Your loss, comrade!”

Twenty minutes later, the sea skimmer bobbed in mildly choppy waters while the Senshi and Broduer intently scanned beneath the waves as the sun began to set.

“Hmm.  I think I might have found something,” said Broduer.  He switched the view on his microcomp to the larger computer screen for the Senshi to see.  “The ocean floor is just under seven kilometers at this point.  I’m picking up an unusual object on the bottom.  Look at this, ladies.”

Sailors Britannica and Russia leaned close and saw an inverted semicircle on the screen.  “That does not look like any sort of natural outcropping.  The shape is simply too perfect,” said the British Senshi.

“I agree, comrade,” Sailor Russia grunted in reply.  “In my humble opinion, that is an underwater installation.  Agent Broduer, do you think the authorities are aware of this?”

“Unlikely.  The police don’t do any deep underwater patrolling unless there’s been an accident or are monitoring a salvage operation.  And never this far out.  A pity we didn’t perform our search in a submersible.”  At that moment, a shrill beeping emitted from the microcomp’s speaker.  Wide eyed, Broduer pointed at the monitor screen.  “Oh, shit!  We’ve been targeted!”

The trio looked at the screen and saw a small white blip heading upward.  “Damnation!  A torpedo!  They must’ve detected our scans!” cried Sailor Britannica.  “Sailor Russia!  Get us out of here!  NOW!”

The Senshi of Power dashed to the flying bridge, powered up the engines and the boat roared away.  Sailor Russia opened up the throttle full and the boat zoomed through the waves at its top speed of eighty knots.  Meanwhile, Sailor Britannica feverishly monitored the blip as it closed in fast on the boat.  “Evasive starboard!” she shouted into her communicator.

On the bridge, Sailor Russia jerked the helm controls and the boat leaned hard to the right, severely straining the craft’s hull and hydrofoil struts while Sailor Britannica and Broduer held on for dear life.  Out of the corner of her eye, Sailor Russia saw the torpedo zoom by the boat and speed off into the distance.  “It missed us, comrade!  The torp wasn’t homing!” she yelled to her partner.

“That’s a bloody comfort!”  Suddenly, there came another beeping from the microcomp.  Sailor Britannica’s eyes widened at what she saw.  “Blast!  Here comes another one!  Evasive port!”

The boat groaned in protest as Sailor Russia drove it into a hard left turn, causing the vessel to shudder mightily.  The brawny Senshi looked behind her and saw the torpedo zoom by, then, abruptly, it made a u-turn and pursued the vessel.  Out of frustration, she let out a violent stream of curses in Russian.  “We have a problem!  This one’s guided!  And it’s closing fast!” Sailor Russia screamed, preparing to transform into her armored form.  “Brace for impact!”

Hearing that, Broduer groaned as his stomach lurched from the maneuvers while feeling more than a little worried.  “Sacre bleu!  What a time to remember I haven’t updated my will!”

To be continued...

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