To Well And Back (The Deep Dark Well)
Date: 2013-01-19 05:00:00+00:00

To Well And Back

Book 2 of The Deep Dark Well Trilogy

By

Doug Dandridge

Books by Doug Dandridge

Doug Dandridge’s Author Page at Amazon

Science Fiction

The Exodus Series

Exodus: Empires at War: Book 1

Exodus: Empires at War: Book 2

The Deep Dark Well Series

The Deep Dark Well

To Well and Back

Deeper and Darker (coming Summer 2013)

Others

The Shadows of the Multiverse

Diamonds in the Sand

The Scorpion

Afterlife

Fantasy

The Refuge Series

Refuge: The Arrival: Book 1

Refuge: The Arrival: Book 2

Doppelganger: A Novel of Refuge

Others

The Hunger

Daemon

Aura

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Got to watch those space altering fields, she thought, watching the enemy vectors closely.  Coming in front of a Nation ship would destroy her vessel.  Come directly astern?  She wasn’t sure what would happen, but she didn’t want to chance anything.  So she set her approach and retreat vectors with care, then waited.  Until the wait was over.

The ship’s clock started a countdown at ten seconds, Pandora just an observer to things that were going to happen faster than even her reaction time could account for.  At three seconds one of the enemy ships started to turn its vector a little, followed by another two a second later.  They’ve seen me, she thought.  Too late, she thought with a wolfish grin, as Avenger opened up with all weapons.

The lasers from the front ring hit first, two beams on two targets.  Both ships had electromag fields up, not strong enough, as they were not expecting an attack.  The ships were still moving at several times the speed of light subjective, so the beams were fired well ahead and shot quickly along the hulls, the projectors swinging them along to increase the milliseconds of contact, ripping through metal and opening rooms to space.  Particle beams hit a moment later, a quick burst of each on the two ships that were targeted.  Uncharged particles hit the hulls, causing ripping damage.  Followed by the antimatter beam which hit with explosive force.

Avenger dropped a quartet of missiles at the same time she fired her beam weapons.  The missiles took off at thirty thousand gravities accel, moving onto their separate targets, vessels further back in the formation that they could intersect at the times the hyperspatial ships got there.  It was a difficult mathematical problem, and like most such it didn’t provide perfect answers.  One came in too far to the front of one vessel and disappeared from current space-time.  One missed to the stern of a ship and exploded, but the blast could not catch the ship.  One entered the actual field containing a ship exploded overhead, sending a flood of heat and radiation into that vessel.  The last missile hit its target dead center.  The quarkium warhead blasted with hundreds of gigatons of power, and the ship was blown first to pieces, then to particles as its own antimatter breached containment.  The space destroying drive died in that instant.

“Eat shit, you xenophobe motherfuckers,” yelled Pandi over the grav wave com, following with her best rebel yell.

And then she was past the enemy ships, her stern lasers and particle beams taking them under fire for the fraction of a millisecond that they were viable targets.  She didn’t bother with any missiles, they just would have been decelerating to slow down from the imparted momentum of her ship, and would have been out of range by the time they had developed any vector toward the enemy warships.  Pandora smirked as she looked into her viewer, watching the expanding mass of one enemy ship, and the dead in space hulks of two others.  One of the two looked lifeless, while the other was a hive of activity as spacesuits and repair bots started to swarm over the surface.

Not bad for a quick strike in what really isn’t a warship, she thought, ordering Avenger to begin braking and vector changes to bring her onto the second group, a maneuver which could take several hours.  By that time the enemy ships would be in normal space, and she had no doubt they would find a message waiting for them that told of her existence.  The next group would be waiting.

Dedication

This book is dedicated to Larry Niven, whose writing gave this reader the desire to write about big ideas of his own.  Thank you for Ringworld, Known Space and other creations.

Contact me at BrotherofCats@gmail.com

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Copyright © 2013 by Doug Dandridge

All rights reserved.

This book is Copyrighted 2013 to Doug Dandridge, all rights reserved.  If you enjoy this work then please tell a friend and have them buy a copy online.  I think the price is reasonable.  Please do not pirate this work.  I am a hard working part time writer, and am not making a fortune on my work.  Please respect my efforts.

Chapter One

Divine right of kings means the divine right of anyone who can get uppermost.    Herbert Spencer

“Would Milady like some more wine?” asked the steward, holding a bottle of the same vintage she had been sampling.  It was a very good vintage, something that high tech societies were not able to improve upon.

“I would love another glass,” said Pandora Latham, acting the part of a great lady, the only role that could get her into the castle of the king.  Unless she wanted to join the serving staff, with all the hazards that entailed.

She looked around the great hall from her place half way down the high table.  The hall was filled with people, many of them lesser nobles, who drank and ate with a lack of manners that was appalling even to the former Kuiper Belt miner playing noblewoman.  There were dogs all through the hall, begging for scraps, attacking anything that struck the floor, growling and fighting among themselves.  The manners of the people in the great hall were not much better.

Just how in the hell does Watcher think he’s going to civilize these people, she thought, stabbing her fork into a slice of beef and bringing it to her mouth, biting off a workable chunk.  They’re fucking barbarians if I’ve ever seen them.  Worse than Tennessee fans.  She shook her head at that last thought, remembering that some people had said the same about her beloved Tide.

Two men started arguing at one of the low tables, and soon were trying to attack each other with their fists over the wooden top.  Others laughed and pointed, and it was apparent that this was part of the regular evening’s entertainment.  One of the men pulled a dagger from his belt and slammed it down on the table, skewering the hand of the other man, and raising more laughter.  The man so assaulted screamed bloody murder, trying to pull the dagger from his hand and the wood underneath.  He finally succeeded with a cry and held the dagger in his good hand, glaring at the man who had injured him and tensing his muscles to jump across the table.  Armored men-at-arms, the soldiers of the King, chose that moment to intervene, separating the men before more blood was spilled.

A serving woman put another tray of bread on the table, and Pandi found herself staring at the rough hands of the still young woman, and the two fingers missing joints on the near hand.  She pulled in a breath of shock as she saw that, wondering what had happened to the poor girl to injure her so.  Watcher told me this was a rough place, and that people had a hard life.  But I never realized it was like this.

[Just keep it cool,] said Watcher over the link.  [Remember, this is a different culture, not to be judged from the vantage point of our own.]

[Don’t give me that every culture is universally good crap,] she sent mentally over the com, up to the satellite and through the wormhole link to the Donut.  [Even in my day I knew that was bullshit.]

[I’m not saying it is good,] said the genetically engineered Immortal Superman.  [It would drive me crazy to be trapped among such people.  Just remember that you are not there to change their world.  Not yet.  Soon, but not yet.]

Pandi nodded and let her awareness of the link fade, getting back into the moment, where she needed to be.  She had, after all, talked Watcher into letting her explore these Supersystem worlds.  He had thought there was no need.  Not with his ability to monitor them without their knowing.  But she had insisted on a boots on the ground approach, and here she was.

“And how was Milady’s journey?” asked the handsome, once you got past the bad teeth, nobleman across the table from her.  Like all the people he had a rough look about him, and was probably much younger than he looked.

“It was long and tedious,” she said, wondering how he would react if she told him she had flown here at faster than light speed from a structure he couldn’t imagine.  She batted her eyes and smiled at him, knowing what kind of effect that had to be having on him.  She was an exotic among these dark people, with her long red hair, blue eyes and freckled skin.  And that’s all you’re going to get from me, Boyo, she thought, reading the look in his eyes.  She had been with many men in her life, but she was a one man woman at any time.  And Watcher was currently that man.

“Perhaps you would like to take a walk in the gardens?” said the man, and Pandi knew exactly what he was looking for, which was not just conversation.  Rape was actually common in this kind of society, and Pandora Latham wondered if the man knew how lucky he was that she wasn’t going to give him a chance.

“Maybe later,” she said, forcing herself to return the smile.  She put a hand on the hilt of the sword she had belted to her waist, glad to feel it was in place.  They thought it strange that a woman was armed, but seemed to believe my tale of being the only child of a distant nobleman, trained to fight and needing to protect myself on the road.  I wouldn’t want to be separated from it among these cutthroats.  There were still some looks at the type of blade she carried, as katanas were not common in these parts, if they had ever been seen at all.  Her explanation of its origin had met with nods from ignorant people who did not want to be thought such.

“Wench,” yelled a voice from the head of the high table.  “How dare you.”

Pandi looked up, feeling a shiver of nervousness at the tone of that voice, and saw a serving wench standing there with a horrified expression on her face.  A noble she had been introduced to before, she thought he was a Duke, had a tight grip on one of her hands, while he ran a cloth over his face, which dripped with liquid.

“I am sorry, Milord,” said the woman in a voice pitched high in fear.  “It was an accident.  I did not mean to do it.”

“You know the punishment for such clumsiness, Sarah,” said the King in the tone of one talking to a child, pulling a dagger from the sheath by his side and gesturing for the Duke to bring her over.

He’s not going to kill her? thought Pandi, her eyes widening.  Not just for spilling some wine?

The Duke dragged the woman to the Monarch, then pushed the hand down on the table.  A hand that was already missing a joint on the little finger.  And then she knew.

Dear God no.  They can’t be serious.  She tensed, her muscles tightening as she prepared to move.

[Calm down, Pandora,] said Watcher over the link.

[Reading my mind again?]

[No,] said Watcher, his tone serious.  [Your vital signs.  And I don’t like what I’m seeing.]

[Me either,] said Pandi, watching the King put his dagger blade on top of the serving woman’s ring finger, at the first joint.  And damned if I’m going to let this happen.

“Hey, you,” said Pandi, standing up and pushing her chair back, hand on her sword hilt.  A lot of faces turned her way, some smiling, some frowning.  None of them knowing what she was about.  “You.  The King.  You fat fuck.” Pandi started walking toward the King, ignoring the people who were staring at her, their mouths dropping open in shock that someone would talk so to the ruler.

[Oh shit,] said Watcher over the link.  [At least get your robots into the game.]

Forgot all about them, thought Pandi, reaching out and linking with her two guards and three servants, all of which were not what they seemed.

[Don’t start a blood bath,] warned Watcher, his voice resigned.

Nothing he can do about it, thought Pandi, stopping five meters from the King and his Duke.  This is my call, and it’s going down the way I want it to.

“What is the meaning of this?” asked the King, his hard eyes meeting hers.

“The meaning of this is that I’m not about to let you mutilate that poor girl,” said Pandi, her own voice taking an edge, her blue eyes hard as they glared into the piggish orbs of the King.

“Are you insane, woman,” said the Duke, while the King glanced at some of his men, who started to move toward Pandi, hands on sword hilts.

“I’m mad as hell is what I am.  You are not going to hurt that woman.”

“This woman is mine, to do with as I please,” said the King, looking at the serving girl, then back at Pandora with an angry glare.  “As I will do to you when I am through with her.”

Three things then happened at once.  The King pushed down on his blade, cutting into the finger of the serving woman.  The woman screamed in pain, and tried to jerk her hand away from the grip of the Duke.  And a trio of men came at Pandi, intending to grab her and hold her for the King’s pleasure.  The first two events went as expected.  The woman’s joint was severed from her finger while the Duke kept her hand in place.  The last went anything but as planned.

Pandi had allowed Watcher to augment her after the trouble she had on her first adventure away from the Donut.  One side effect was that she was among the long lived now, a woman who would remain young and beautiful for centuries to come.  She had four hundred years or more to live, as long as her life wasn’t terminated in a manner that could not be readily fixed, like beheading, or being burned to death.  But because of that augmentation she would not be an easy target.

“No,” she yelled at the top of her lungs, her voice reverberating from the walls and ceiling, while people put their hands over ears.  The world slowed down to Pandi’s perception, everyone moving in slow motion while she continued to react in what seemed to her to be real time.  She pulled her blade from the sheath, at the same time jumping into the air to plant a front snap kick into the chest of the nearest assailant.  The kick pushed him back onto the floor, landing on his buttocks, hands reaching to his chest as he grimaced in pain.  And he was the lucky one of the trio.

The blade of the silver katana in Pandi’s hand swung out, to contact the neck of the second man with perfect precision.  Blade cut through flesh and bone as if they were cobwebs, and the man’s head spun through the air, while blood spurted in great gouts from his neck.  She continued around with the blade, twisting it into a downward motion that caught the third man on his left shoulder, cutting down and in, separating the left side of his thorax from the right.  She twisted the blade again and pulled out, and the left side fell away from the dead man to plop on the floor, while the rest of him fell over the table.

“Kill her,” yelled the King in a panicked voice, stumbling backwards, his men scrambling to get around him.

The Duke drew his sword and started forward, bringing the blade back for a killing stroke.

Here comes your surprise for the day, thought Pandi, bringing her own weapon up on a path that would strike the Duke’s long sword blade to blade.  There was a slight clang, a few sparks, all from the Duke’s blade, then Pandi’s sword sliced through the steel of the other weapon.  Half the blade fell to the floor, and the duke found himself staring at the foot of steel that was still attached to the hilt.

Welcome to real technology, asshole, was Pandi’s thought as she brought her blade back in and sliced through the Duke’s arm, then into his thoracic cavity.  The man’s nascent scream turned into a gurgle, and he fell dying to the floor.

Pandi ducked a sword blade, then jumped over another, turning a back flip in the air.  Her blade licked out twice and both swordsmen were falling dead to the floor.  She landed lightly on her feet, blocked another blade on the flat of hers, then sliced through chain mail, flesh and bone to leave another man-at-arms dead.

[Get the hell out of there,] yelled Watcher over the link, his tone alternating between anger and fear.  [What the hell are you trying to do?]

[I’m trying to kill me a son of a bitch,] said Pandi, glancing around.  She saw that her robots were sweeping the rest of the hall with sonic stunners.  The other celebrants would wake with headaches, but no other harm.  As she watched a warrior brought a battle-axe down on the head of a robot that looked like a body servant.  The ax rebounded into the air, and the robot’s head took superficial damage to the outer covering.  The man stared in horror as the mechanism swept its arm around and hit him with a stunner.

Pandi looked back to locate the King, the one she was most interested in.  She saw him disappear through a doorway, and a half dozen men-at-arms form a wall before that egress.  I could have the robots stun a way through, she thought, then dismissed it in an instant.  The King could go anywhere in the time it took to get the robots up here, so she couldn’t grant him that time.

“Get out of my way,” she yelled at the men at arms, running full speed at them, her sword held back for a strike.

“Kill the witch,” yelled the leader of the men, bracing his shield and raising his sword overhead.

Pandi thrust her blade through the shield, the super sharp sword made up of advanced materials held in place by a strong electromagnetic field pushing into the wood and metal  like it wasn’t there.  It continued through the chain mail and into the body of the man.  Pandi pulled the sword free with a draw cut, and the lifeless man fell to the floor.

Two swords quested for the woman, but she moved much too quickly for either man to target her.  One swished above her head, while the other pushed forward, missing her as she stopped in place.  She batted one sword aside and sliced through the other, then flicked her blade in like a striking rattlesnake.  And then there were three frightened looking men between her and the King.  And they’ll die in place before they let me through, she thought.  I really don’t need to kill all these people, who are just doing as they are ordered.  She remembered that there was another way, one she had forgotten in the excitement of the moment.

With that thought she pulled a small object off of her belt and aimed the front toward the men.  The ovoid shape vibrated in her hand, and the men went down, eyes rolling up, then closing as consciousness left them.

Something hit Pandora in the back, hard, right between the shoulder blades.  The leather vest she wore under her dress hardened to the consistency of steel and repelled whatever it had been, but it still hurt.  She turned with pantherish grace, her sword coming around, to see an old man with a dagger in his hand.  There was a shocked expression on his face, and his eyes kept darting from Pandi to the dagger and back again.  Pandi shook her head, then punched the man in the face, knocking him down and out with her augmented strength.

Now to get me an asshole, she thought, turning and leaping over the downed men-at-arms, heading through the passageway beyond.  She looked left, then right, catching a glimpse of the robes the King was wearing disappear through another entrance.  She ran to the opening and found a set of stairs going up.  Pandi took the steps two at a time, leaping into a hall with several thick doors set on each side.  The one furthest down the hall slammed shut as she watched, and she heard a heavy bolt slam home.

Got you, she thought, running to the door.  She ignored the entreaties of Watcher, her friend and lover trying to dissuade her from her self-assigned mission.  Pandora Latham was having none of it.

The stout iron trimmed wooden door would have stood up to a ram for some time.  The super sharp sword went through it like it had rotted to the point of collapse.  She pushed down and felt a bit more resistance as the sword sliced through the iron bolt.  A swift kick flung the door open, to reveal the trembling King standing in the center of the room, a long sword in his shaking hand.

“Who are you?” yelled the King in a tremulous voice.  “From what realm of Hell do you come?”

“Not Hell,” said Pandi, stalking forward.  “Heaven.  I am the Angel the just God, come to make you pay for your crimes.”

“That is not true,” said the other man in the room, wearing the ornate robes of a higher clergy member.  “You are not from God.  The King was ordained by God, and does his will.”

Pandi played the stunner over the man, making sure she did not touch his head with any part of the beam.  She wanted him awake.

“And now you pay,” she said to the King, bringing her blade back in a blur.  “And may your soul burn in Hell for eternity.”

At that last she swung forward.  The King may have been a formidable warrior in his younger days.  He was not such now.  And his life was taken swiftly by the blade of the demon woman.

Pandora Latham walked over to the Priest and stood above him.  “I am the Angel of the vengeful God.  A God who cries over the trials of his people.  Make sure that the next to ascend the throne knows that God is not happy with the way the nobility treats the people.  Let him know that the vengeful Angel will be back, should they decide to continue the policies of the dead King.”

With that she turned away, contacting her robots through the link and planning their egress from the castle.

[That was evil, Pandora Latham,] said the voice of Watcher in her mind over the circuit.  [We need to talk, you and I.]

“And if I don’t want to talk?” she said aloud.

The blade in her hand shimmered for a moment, then fell into dust at her feet.  She stared at the remains of the blade for a moment, and realized that he still controlled the technology that she was using.  “Ok, lover,” she said in a resigned tone, knowing that he had made his point.  “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Chapter Two

Racism, xenophobia and unfair discrimination have spawned slavery, when human beings have bought and sold and owned and branded fellow human beings as if they were so many beasts of burden.   Desmond Tutu

“Admiral on the bridge,” called out the voice of the first officer to spot the personage of the fleet commander.

“At ease,” called out Admiral Miklas Gerasi, striding toward his chair that overlooked the organized chaos that was the bridge of the battleship Orca.  He stared at the holo tank, and the system of eight stars displayed thereon.  I didn’t think I would be back here so soon, he thought, his mind going back to his mission two years past.  And if I never came back it still would have been too soon.

But they had needed someone who knew the system, and Gerasi was the most knowledgeable flag officer in the fleet as far as the Supersystem was concerned.  And I don’t even have Midas to lean on.  Valaris Midas had been promoted to Commodore, and was leading a division within the other task force, the one on the way here.  Gerasi looked with ill-concealed contempt at the Flag Captain they had saddled him with.

“Captain  Lashan,” growled the Admiral, plopping down in his chair.  “How long till orbital insertion?”

The Captain looked down his long patrician nose at his military superior and social superior.  He started to say something, seemed to think better of it, then thought for a moment.  As a nephew of the Patriarch of the Nation of Humanity, the man had little to fear of any superior.  A superior officer who punished him in any manner better have a perfect case, if he wanted to survive the Inquisition that would be called to review the incident.  But Gerasi had already raked this officer over the coals in front of his crew, and only a stupid man would not realize they were on a long deployment in which the Admiral’s word was law, and there was no contact with the Theocracy of the home state.

“We should be in orbit in about forty-nine hours,” said the officer, his eyes unfocused in the faraway look of link.  His voice stayed in that haughty tone of better than thou, and when his eyes focused on the real world again the same look returned to his face.  “We will return to normal space drive in thirty-eight hours, then continue into the system on reactionless.  With the Admiral’s permission, of course.”

Gerasi thought about the information for a moment, making the Captain wait as well as a benefit.  With Alcubierre, or the FTL pseudo drive that actually destroyed the space in front of the ship and recreated it behind, they were still in touch with normal space in most respects.  They could look out over the Universe to all sides with the exception of front and rear.  Signals, including light, could not reach them from the bow, as they were obliterated along with the space they were in.  And anything coming from the stern could not catch up, as space was created faster than the light could travel.  And basic doctrine taught that it was a very bad idea to operate the drive within the confines of a solar system.  They could destroy space, but material objects were another matter altogether.  They could wipe out a small asteroid massing much less than the ship.  But run into a moon or a planet and the story was different.  The surface of the body might take some damage, a hundred meters or so into the soil, over a hundred of square kilometers of surface.  But the ship would come apart at the seams, and spew particular matter of atomic and subatomic material in all directions.  That would also be bad for the planet, but it would still exist at the end of the incident, while the ship would not.

He had used the drives on his fleet the last time he had been in the system, within close proximity to the Donut and the massive black hole it orbited.  It had been a desperate gamble, and had cost him a quartet of battleships, one into the maw of the black hole.  But it had been the only way to get in through the defenses of the station, and get the tech he had come for.  People back home had not been happy with those losses, but had been ecstatic at the haul.  And someday the ships of his nation would be equipped with the same advanced drive as used by the Ancestors.  But this was not yet the day.

“Very well,” said Gerasi, getting up from his chair and walking to the main hatch to the bridge.  “Keep me apprised of any changes, and I will be back on the bridge in four hours for an update.”

Gerasi could feel the glare of the Captain on his back as he headed off the bridge.  So we don’t like each other, thought the Admiral.  Well too damned bad.  We just have to work together.

*     *     *

“You have made great strides here, Commodore,” said Fleet Admiral Nagara Krishnamurta of the Kingdom of Surya.  He looked up and down the long corridor of the station, and the Marine honor guard that stood along the passageway.

“Thank you, Admiral,” said the slightly pudgy woman who had been put in command of the Kingdom’s presence in the Supersystem.  “Our friends have been of great service as well.”

Our friends, thought the Admiral, shaking his head.  I still wonder how much of our friends those two really are.  Or if there are more of them, hidden in the shadows.

He couldn’t complain too much though.  Their friends had equipped them to be on equal footing with the Nation of Humanity.  It would have been nice if they had given them superior tech, but the pair of humans had been unwilling to go that far.

A superman from the here and now, and a woman from the past, thought the Admiral, continuing along behind the Commodore into a large observation room looking down over an orange and blue planet.  Saviors or devils?  Even the Council of Ministers can’t decide.

“And how is the work planetside going?” he asked Commodore Natasha Sundraka, studying the pattern of continents and islands on the blue seas.

“With the humans,” she said with a smile.  “Very well.  At first they thought we were the Gods returning from the heavens.  It took a bit of teaching to convince them that we are as human as they.  And a couple of accidental deaths among our people.”  She frowned at this last, and Krishnamurta could read the pain in her face.  But she had been chosen as much for her connection to the Church as to the military, and he was sure that such as she would never get used to losing people.

Like any of us ever do, he thought, remembering the casualties he had taken trying to intercept the Nation forces on the outskirts of their own system.  A desperation move that had proven unwise.  “And the aliens?” he said, nodding his head toward the planet.

“They, are more of a problem,” admitted the woman, her lips pursing into a pout.  “We have Maurids on the planet.  And you’ve never seen such a beastly bunch of aliens.”

“How intelligent are they?”

“Devilishly intelligent,” said the Commodore, glaring at the planet.  “At least as smart as we are.  I don’t see how the Ancestors ever controlled them.  They can move like lightning, and lay hidden for hours.  And that demon God they worship.  I almost wish the true Gods would strike them dead during a worship service.”

“Not a very Godly attitude, Commodore,” admonished the Admiral, waving a finger.  “What would the Church Elders think of such?  We are here to lead our sophont brothers back to the fold.  Not kill them.”

“I know admiral,” said the woman with a sigh, putting her hands behind her back and walking over to the observation room bar.  “I know.  But these seem the children of the devil.”

“And you have not been able to save any of these creatures?” asked the Admiral, tapping his foot on the floor and rubbing his chin with his hand.

“Maybe a few hundred,” said the Commodore, pouring herself a drink and raising an eyebrow at her superior.

“I would love one,” he answered, walking toward the bar, while the rest of his staff moved to the window to look out at the world their Kingdom had claimed.

“A few hundred,” repeated the Commodore, pouring some liquor into a glass and handing it to the Admiral.  “Maybe a thousand who have come to the mission, seeking sanctuary from another tribe or confederation, or some such organization.  Most eat our food and shelter under our guns, but only pay lip service to our offer of salvation.  And of those about two hundred, maybe three, actually have embraced our Gods.”

“And how are those worthies behaving?” asked the Admiral, taking a sip and feeling the bite of good whisky.

“A little different than most adherents to the faith,” said the woman, looking back toward the window.  “Oh, they act well enough, but there is something foreign to their thought patterns.  They’re.  Well, they’re...”

“Alien is the term I think you’re looking for Commodore,” said the Admiral with a head nod and a smile.  “They think differently than we do, because they are wired differently.  For whatever reason the Gods gave them different brains, different kinds of neurons, even, in some cases, completely different cellular structure.  Or, if you believe the scientists, they evolved that way in different environments, though the Gods still had a hand in it.  So they think differently than us.  Not better or worse, in some cases faster and deeper.  But different.”

“And that is what we must learn to deal with?” asked the Commodore with a frown, swallowing another slug of liquor.

“If we want to spread the faith across the Galaxy, and perpetuate the kind of civilization that we want for ourselves and our children, then yes,” said the Admiral, turning and walking back to the window.  “That is what we must learn to deal with.  Now,” he said, turning back and walking over to the Commodore.  “What’s been going on with our deadly enemies, the ones whose motivations we cannot mistake or misjudge?”

“They have brought another task force into the Suspersystem,” said the Commodore, her expression grim.  “Equal in size to yours.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” said the Admiral with a grimace.  “And what have they been up to on that star they have claimed?  While all the fleets were away.”

“Nothing good,” said the Commodore, shaking her head.  “The kind of stuff that we have grown used to from the Xenophobe bastards.  But let me show you.”  The Commodore walked toward another doorway, motioning for the admiral to follow her.

And why do I think I’m not going to like this? he thought, walking into the conference room and taking a seat.  Because I’m not a complete idiot is why.

*     *     *

“It sure is hot,” complained one of the staff officers.

It sure is, thought Admiral Miklas Gerasi, glaring back at the man who had stated the obvious, and reminded the senior officer of something he was trying to ignore.  He looked up into the sky, tinted slightly orange from the light of the local K4 star.  Ks were not the brightest of stars, but the planet was close in to the inner limit of the life zone, and at that position any planet was hot.

They had reached the top of the small hill that had been their target, and Gerasi wondered yet another time why the base commander had wanted them to walk up here when they could have seen this just as well from air car or shuttle.  Though he had to admit that the view was spectacular.

In all directions stretched jungle of purple tinted green, while in the distance were high mountains with a permanent white cap on their peaks.  The sky was streaked with clouds, not enough to cut down on the fury of the too close sun.  And directly in front was the cleared area of a landing field, and the score or so finished hangers, barracks and administration buildings of the base.  Tiny figures moved across the area, humans in battle armor, ready to put down any revolt, and the aliens that they were supervising.

“The Hustedeans are a naturally lazy race,” said the base commander, Marine Colonel Joshua Ramirez.  “Kind of stupid, too.  Only a seven on the sentient scale.”

While humans are a ten, thought Gerasi, nodding his head.  But all races are on a bell curve, which means that some of these aliens are probably smarter than you are, Ramirez.  Since you are nowhere near the positive end of our curve.  “But you have no trouble getting them to work?”

“They work, or they don’t eat,” said the Marine with a smile.  “And don’t work long enough and they eat a bullet.  Even those stupid fuckers can get the point after they see enough of their fellows thrown into a mass grave.”

“But you still have enough workers?”

“They are always more in that damned jungle,” said the Colonel, wiping his own brow of the beading sweat.  “We just find another village, and bring out the ones that are useful to us.  The others feed the carrion eaters, of course.”

“Until there are no more left of them in the area,” said the Admiral, pointedly looking at the Base Commander.  “Until there are no more of them left on the planet.”

“That is what Mother Church commands of us,” said the officer, making the sign of the open hand to the forehead.  “This planet was meant for man, not for the caricatures of humans put here by the evil one.”

There was a commotion on the field.  One of the Hustedeans had fallen to his knees, and a guard was gesturing and obviously screaming at him, though he could not be heard at this distance.  The alien kneeled on the open field, head down, trying to get up and stumbling back.  The human pulled a pistol from a belt holster and waved it around.  With a shout the man pointed the gun at the head of the creature, and the pistol bucked silently in the human’s hand as mag pistols were wont to.  The alien fell to the ground and lay still, except for the twitching of the kangaroo like tail.

A pair of the aliens hopped toward the human, who pointed the pistol their way and yelled.  They ignored his shouts and continued toward him, their body language revealing their violent intent.  They moved quickly in their hopping motion, faster than a running man.  The pistol bucked three times in rapid succession, and the aliens fell from the top of a leap to hit their feet on the ground and crumple over.

“Stupid beasts,” growled the Colonel, glaring at the scene.  “Sometimes they almost act like real intelligent creatures, and do what they’re told.  Other times, not.  And this is the result.”

“So you expect to have this base ready within the next month?” asked Gerasi, turning away from the spectacle which left a queasy feeling in his stomach.  Dammit, they’re just aliens.  It’s not like they’re real people.  So why does it bother me to see them relieved of their lives.

“Of course,” said the Colonel, walking beside him as they came down the hill and started back to the base.  “We…”

The round took the Colonel in the face, where the lightly armored uniform he wore provided no coverage.  The bullet punched into his mouth as the last word was leaving, smashing teeth and blasting through the roof of his orifice and into the brain.  One second the energetic officer was taking a step, the next he was falling forward to the ground, his life gone.  More shots crack by at high speed, two missing the Admiral by the merest of margins.  And then he was on the ground, tackled by one of his junior officers, who was pressing the Admiral down and leveling a pistol at the unseen enemy.

Shots cracked both ways for a minute, the outgoing volume soon overwhelming the incoming by a wide margin.  The Marines with the guard detail were firing their auto-rifles, while a couple with lasers cut through the brush like infinite swords.

Gerasi thought he was a brave man, but he hadn’t been trained for ground combat.  His was the first time he had experienced such.  He cringed on the ground, glad that someone was shielding his body, glad that others were carrying the fight to the enemy while he felt like he was about to shit himself.

And then, as quickly as it had begun, it was over.

“Damned rebels,” cursed a Marine Lieutenant, standing over the body of the Colonel.

“I thought all the natives were primitives,” said the Admiral, looking down at the dead body.

“They are,” said the officer, a scowl on his face.  “Even the few humans out there who live among the filth.  But they have ambushed some of our patrols and armed themselves.”

“Just wonderful,” said Gerasi, throwing his hands up in the air.  He looked over at the officer.  “What would it take to secure this area?”

“Another battalion of Marines would probably do it, sir,” said the Lieutenant, pursing his lips.  “But the Colonel thought he could do it with the regiment he had.”

“And we see what the Colonel’s assumptions brought,” said the Admiral, kicking at the dirt with a booted foot.  He looked the Lieutenant in the eyes.  “We’ll get you another battalion, and I want everything within four days march of here either in a work camp or dead.  Understood?”

“You’ll have to tell the Exec that, sir,” said the officer with a sheepish grin.

“Oh, I will, Lieutenant,” said the Admiral, his muscles still trembling a bit and bringing shame to him.  “I won’t stand for this kind of action within the perimeter of a base of the Nation of Humanity.”

I will not stand for this, he thought again, boarding his shuttle on the field.  And then his thoughts were on the naval action he would try to precipitate in this system.  A kind of fight he was looking forward to.

Chapter Three

The future is something which everyone reaches at the rate of 60 minutes an hour, whatever he does, whoever he is.   C. S. Lewis

Pandora Latham arched her back as Watcher thrust into her, the pure pleasure driving the breath from her lungs.  She opened her eyes and looked into the blue orbs of her lover, dilated open from the excitement of their lovemaking.  [I love you,] she thought over the computer link that was allowing them to share all their feelings, emotional and physical.

[I love you too,] thought Watcher, even as his building pleasure came over the link and drowned her in its intensity.

He is a superman, she thought in her guarded thoughts.  The perfect man.  And all mine.

Pandora Latham had many lovers in her past.  She had never had a problem getting a man, though she never had more than one in her life at a time.  She had never shied from sex, even after her father told her that her lust would someday doom her to Hell, to burn forever in a lake of fire.  To hell with that, she thought as she concentrated on the feeling of his member pushing into her folds, feeling it from both sides.  I’ve found the perfect man, and damn me if I’ll ever let him go.  Not even Hell can make me let go.

And then all time for rational thought was past as Pandi felt her orgasm breaking over her.  She let out a cry, while Watcher covered her lips with his, drinking in her moans and cries, his tongue questing in her mouth.  Her vagina clenched around his member, and she could feel his orgasm build through the link, then let go, at the same time she felt him cum inside her.  That set off her second orgasm, building over the top of the first, and Watcher went into his own additional spasm.  [Someday I will have your children,] she thought over the link.  They both knew she was in a fertile period, just as they both knew the nanotech within her would keep her from getting pregnant at this time.  There was too much to do at this time to be burdened with a pregnancy, or a child.

And then it was over, except for the aftershocks that continued through her augmented nerves.  Looking into Watcher’s face she could tell that he was feeling them too, both his own and hers.  She kissed him tenderly, happy that he had greeted her when she arrived and whisked her to the bed.

They lay there for some minutes, basking in the afterglow, until he slipped out of her and rolled over.  He rolled back and put his strong arms around her, kissing her on the forehead, then seeking her lips for a deep kiss.

“What got into you, lover,” said Pandi in a breathless gasp.

“It’s more like what got into you,” said Watcher, a smile in his eyes.

“You got into me,” said Pandi with a laugh.

And I have almost endless years of youth to enjoy him, she thought, rubbing her sweaty body against his.  To her a half millennia might as well have been endless.  It wasn’t something that she could really imagine.

“Not if you keep pulling fool stunts like you did on Sapphire V,” said Watcher, his eyes changing from laughter to an angry glare.

“Listening in on my thoughts again,” said Pandi, her own eyes narrowing.  “Those were personal thoughts, not yours to peruse at your convenience, lover.”

“And what got into you down there,” continued Watcher, ignoring her jab about privacy.  “Taking on an entire castle of murderous primitives like that.  You’re damned lucky they didn’t crucify you, or burn you at the stake.”

“They had to come up with some better warriors to do that job, don’t you think,” said Pandi, a smile creeping across her face.

“You think this is a joke,” said Watcher, pushing himself away and turning his back on her.  “People died because of your actions.  People who did not have to die.”

Pandi put a hand on his shoulder and stroked his skin.  “I’m sorry.  I know you worry about me.  But I will not sit here safely on this station while so many others suffer the misery of feudal rulers, dying of diseases we can cure, and poverty we can stop.  Surely you can understand that.”

“Because I was the cause of it, you mean,” cried Watcher, covering his face in his hands.

“No.  No, lover,” said Pandi, pulling him over onto his back, still marveling at the strength that was hers.  “No.  That was not your fault.  You didn’t tell that damned murdering machine to take over your mind and make you a zombie.  So quit blaming yourself.”

“I wish I could,” said Watcher, tears coming to his eyes.  “I wish I could.”  He looked down for a moment, then back into her eyes.  “And you were my salvation,” he said, his hand stroking her cheek.  “My beautiful angel.  And I can’t stand the thought of anything happening to you.”

Pandi pushed her cheek into the hand, feeling like letting out a purr.  He really thinks I’m beautiful, she thought in wonder.  She knew she was attractive, that men seemed to like her combination of fair freckled skin, red hair and blue eyes.  She thought she was a little too slender, her breasts just a bit too small.  But what woman doesn’t want to look different, she thought with a chuckle.  And the wrinkles are all gone, she thought, remembering how smooth her face looked in the mirror, all the little lines around her eyes gone.

A cat jumped onto the bed with a meow, bringing a laugh from the lovers.  “Pudding,” said Pandi, reaching a free hand to stroke the orange tabby cat on the head.  “Not afraid now that the bed’s not moving.”

Watcher stroked the cat on his back while Pandi continued to scratch the top of the feline’s head, eliciting a deep purr.  Pandi looked down Watcher’s body, a grin on her face, and her hand soon followed her eyes.  Watcher closed his own eyes and purred himself as her hand worked its magic.

“What say we chase this poor little kitty off the bed for another hour,” said Pandora in a throaty whisper.

“An hour,” said Watcher, his smile growing.

“I don’t see any reason to rush it this time,” said Pandi, sliding down so she could be closer to her work.  And then her mouth was too busy for talking.

*     *     *

After the bedroom this was Pandora’s favorite place on the station.  The room itself was large, a globe over a hundred meters in diameter.  But from the central station where she now stood it looked as big as the Galaxy, stretching out across tens of thousands of light years of space in all its glory.

Watcher sat at the control station, a large chair with minimal controls, his own brain being the primary command system.  From here he could tap the greatest power of the station, the ability to open wormholes between any two points within the range of the graviton projectors.  Meaning any two points within billions of kilometers of the station.  Anything greater and a vessel would actually have to transport the wormhole mouth, or a graviton projector would have to be in place.

That’s what brought me here, thought Pandi, her mind pulling up the images of her ship, the Niven, destroyed by the very space it occupied.  She had been aboard the Hernando, the ship that had traveled through the past by way of another dimension in which time ran backwards as compared to the Universe she was familiar with.  And the only way out had been the wormhole.  Some people might have been paralyzed at that instant, and been snuffed out as their molecules were ripped to quarks and spewed throughout space by a Universe correcting a paradox.  Pandora Latham had not been paralyzed.  Watcher called me one in a million, she thought, looking over his shoulder as he moved the view of the holo and honed in on one area of space.  She had acted, and saved her life, jumping into a world of wonder and danger beyond her wildest dreams.

“It seems that our friends are back,” said Watcher as the familiar warships came into focus.

“Evil bastards,” declared Pandi as she focused on the warships, recognizable by the projectors of their space destroying drives in plain sight on their hulls.

“More accurately misguided,” said Watcher, his own eyes focused on the dozen enemy ships in orbit around the planet.  A K5 Class star shone in the background, Garnett, the sixth system out from the Black Hole.

“They’re xenophobic sons of bitches,” growled Pandi, wishing she could send her thoughts across the void and incinerate the hyper-religious fools.  “They would kill you the minute they had you in their grasp, just because you don’t fit their conception of human.”

“I don’t know about that,” said Watcher, a smile creeping across his face.  “I’m sure they would want to torture what I knew out of me, then kill me.”

“Can’t you just use the graviton projectors and, you know, snuff them out of existence?”

“It doesn’t work that way,” said Watcher, the smile turning over into a frown.  “They don’t have that kind of power at this range.”

“Then how did your ancestors move stars and planets around?”

“We moved the projectors to the proper range to construct a gravitational gradient,” said Watcher in an exasperated voice.  “You already know this.  Why are you letting your hate push you into irrational and wishful thinking?”

“Because I’m fucking human,” said Pandora, her voice hissing.  “Not a damned machine.”  Her brain caught up with her words a second later, and she regretted that they had come out of her mouth.

Watcher stiffened in his chair, then turned his head to look back at her.  The anger was apparent in his eyes, and the pain, and he was no longer the rational controlled superman.

“I am so sorry,” said Pandora, putting her hand over her chest.  “I really didn’t mean to say that.”

“But you are human,” said Watcher, his eyes narrowing.  “Controlled by your limbic system, unlike this superior being.”

“Then why are you so angry, lover,” said Pandi, showing enough teeth to hopefully trigger that male response to the female smile.  “Looks to me like your limbic system is not so detached as advertised.”

Watcher huffed and turned back to the holo, the set of his shoulders showing his tension.

Only one thing to do about this, thought Pandi, leaning forward and running her tongue around his ear.  He tensed some more, then relaxed as a chuckle came from his lips.  “I guess I’m not so inhuman after all,” he said through that chuckle.

“Nope,” she said as she traced her tongue around the lobes, then back to the upper surfaces.

“Stop that,” he said, playfully slapping at her.  “We have work to do. “  He went back to his mental link as she kissed his cheek and then leaned back.

“Our friends are back in force as well,” said Watcher, zooming in on the Inertial Warp Bubble equipped ships in orbit around a planet circling a G2 class star.  Topaz System, the fourth out from the Black Hole.  “Looks to be about equal to the enemy.”

“So we help them out in whatever battle develops and everything is straight,” said Pandi, smiling as she remembered the people from the Kingdom of Surya.  They had also been slightly more religious than she preferred, but not in a murderous xenophobe sort of way like those others.  She actually had some hope for their civilization.

“That would be a good plan except for this,” said Watcher, and the view expanded out, until it focused on a series of ripples that seemed to be approaching the Supersystem.

“Space destroying drives,” exclaimed Pandi, a scowl on her face.

“The same,” said Watcher, matching her frown.  “Which means our xenophobic friends are getting reinforcements.”

“We’ve got to do something,” said Pandi, a sense of doom pervading her thoughts.  “They’ll beat the others, then go about and ravage the alien races.  Do whatever they want to do.”

“And what do you suggest?”

“We have millions of robots on this station,” said the woman, looking at the ripples in space that presaged more Nation of Humanity forces.  “Surely enough to defeat anything they can put into space.”

“And the robots cannot man spaceships,” said Watcher, ticking points off his fingers.  “And they can’t operate in a military role without sentient organics within a half million kilometers.”

“And can’t you override them?” asked Pandora, planting her hands on her hips.

[He cannot, Pandora Latham,] spoke the voice of the new station computer in her mind.  She still shuddered a bit when the thing contacted her, remembering the trouble the old station comp had put them through.  But the quantum computer was an order of magnitude faster than the old, and had not done anything untoward since it had come online.  And it especially had not wiped out civilization, like the old one.

“Well, you can,” she said, looking at the ceiling, as if the comp resided there.  “Can’t you?”

“I cannot,” said the comp in its chillingly human voice, just like that of a seductive woman.  “I am hard programmed to not violate the Man in the Loop Accords.  There must be human oversight within two light seconds response time for any robots operating with the capability of offensive actions.”

“What about defense of the station?” argued Pandi, trying to out reason the greatest intelligence ever created.  “We could be ten light seconds response time….”

“The station has a web of wormhole com systems integrated within its structure,” said the comp.  “The same is not true within the Supersystem of worlds.  And a single wormhole aperture is not sufficient, as it may close after the units are given a command, in which case a counter-command cannot be given.”

“So we’re stuck there,” said Watcher, glancing back at his partner.  “And we don’t have enough, between the two of us, to man one of the cruisers in the docks, much less a destroyer.”

“Then we’ll just have to rig up something I can control by myself,” said Pandora Latham, crossing her arms over her chest.  “And as many robots as I can carry with me.”

“That’s too damned dangerous,” said Watcher, jumping up from his seat and turning toward her, a finger pointed her way.  “I can’t let you risk yourself that way.”

“And you can’t stop me,” said Pandi, pouting her lips, then sticking her tongue out at her superman.

“I…”

“Pandora Latham is correct, Watcher,” said the comp, cutting off whatever he was about to say.  “She has total access to this station and its resources, as per your command.  Access that can now only be restricted at her request.  As a free being she cannot be restricted unless it is shown that she is not of sound mind.  Which, according to all scans, she is.”

“So there, Mr. I Am In Control,” said Pandi, glaring at Watcher.  “Now you can help me get ready for a spoiler mission, or you can get out of my way.  So which will it be?”

“I guess I had better help you,” said Watcher with a resigned tone.  “So you don’t get yourself killed.  But what about that reformation project you had planned for Sapphire V?”

“Those primitives will wait,” said Pandi, grabbing Watcher’s hand and pulling him toward the long walkway from the room.  “Now let’s get crackin’.  And then we can have our going away bash.”

“And what will that consist of?” asked Watcher with a smile.

“Why sir,” said Pandi, a smile cracking on her face.  “What do you think?  Me fucking your brains out, of course.”

“I have a lot of brains,” said Watcher with a laugh.

“Then I have a lot of fucking to do, don’t I,” said Pandi, leading him along the path.

*     *     *

“You be careful out there,” said Watcher over the com link.

“I think they’re the ones who need to be careful,” said Pandi with a grin as she ran down a last check of the vessel.  Avenger was equipped with a score of wormholes, including a dedicated com link, and a passenger gate that led back to the Donut.  The twenty thousand ton ship was capable of pulling two thousand gees constant acceleration, with a bit more for emergencies, and could pass light speed with her inertial bubble system.  Pandora had thought of using one of the more advanced hyper systems, but had decided it wasn’t needed for an insystem mission like this.

The vessel was as heavily armed as could be, equipped with two one hundred gigawatt lasers in ring mounts fore and aft, and a quartet of particle beams that were fed through wormholes from the station.  The particles were actually accelerated in massive arrays on the station, then shot out of the apertures on the ship on command.  She also carried sixteen of the high gee missiles, as well as strong plasma fields for defense.  Though not their size and weight, she was the match for any single enemy battleship.

“Don’t get too cocky,” said Watcher, wagging a finger.  “They are still capable of taking that ship out, and you with it.  I know having an escape hole might make you feel confident of taking on anything, but an antimatter explosion would move through that ship faster than you could make it to the wormhole.”

“I’ll be careful, lover,” said Pandi with a smile.  She knew what he said was true, but she was about to go on a campaign, a grand adventure, and she wasn’t about to let facts spoil the excitement she was feeling.  And that’s my biggest problem, thought the rational part of her mind, the part she preferred to ignore.  And Watcher knows it.  He’s just very concerned about losing the woman he loves.  So we’ll just have to make sure that doesn’t happen.

“And remember,” said Watcher, finger still wagging, “that those combat robots may not be as formidable as you think.  Their Marines outfought twenty times their number of them the last time they were on station.  Sentient warriors can outthink robots most times.”

“These are better models, lover,” said Pandi, pulling up the specs of the combat robots on her link.  And they were much better.  They hadn’t even attempted to copy the forms of sentients with these machines, making them instead eight limbed combat chassis that were the best combination of offensive and defensive platforms they could put together.

“Don’t think that they are invincible,” cautioned Watcher.  “Nothing is invincible.  Especially hard headed women from Alabama.”

“And how many Alabamians do you know?” said Pandi with a chuckle, at the same time ordering Avenger to leave her slip.

“Just one,” said Watcher, a frown on his face.  “And that is enough to make me cautious about the breed.”

“I’ll check in regularly,” said Pandi, moving the one hundred and fifteen meter long ship back out of the slip on one engine.

To either side were the seven hundred meter lengths of destroyers.  They would have been the perfect ships for this mission, able to hold their own against the entire Nation fleet.  Unfortunately, the ancestors had not been trusting enough to allow ships capable of doing serious damage to a planet’s biosphere to be run by a single sentient.  In fact, it took at least twenty people to run one of the comparatively small warships, which originally operated with a crew of three hundred.

The outer hatch opened behind Avenger, stopping its motion when it was more than large enough to allow the sixty meter width of the ship to pass.  As soon as she was in space the thick hatch slid closed, securing the warships.  I’m back in space, thought the woman in exultation.  That had always been her dream, and back in the twenty-first century it had become a reality.  But this reality was so much better.  She would be given the chance to explore a good bit of the Galaxy in her expanded lifetime.  To be able to put her boots on the soil of strange planets, with exotic suns in the sky.  To talk with aliens and humans from completely different cultures.  Her dream realized.

Avenger pivoted in space, turning her front away from the station.  While capable of max acceleration in any vector, no matter her orientation, to Pandi it just felt more natural to have the nose pointed where she wanted to go.  She shuddered a moment as the blur in space that was the black hole came across her view.  That thing almost ate me, she thought, recalling her trip around the hole, just outside the event horizon.  She still lay awake at nights wondering about what it would have been like to have fallen in.  Complete annihilation?  Or would she have been subjectively falling for eternity, never actually reaching the hole, but constantly on the way.  That would have been the most horrible way to go, a living Hell, worse than anything her father could have come up with from his so called holy book.

“Accelerate on programmed course,” she ordered the ship as soon as it stopped traversing.  Avenger engaged all three of the inertialess drives on command, the three globes on the stern pushing against the fabric of space.  This close to the hole it was a strain to pull away, and the ship followed a parabolic orbit to gain distance from the gravity well and get further away from its attractive force.  The Deep Dark Well, she thought of it.  A well that once fallen into there was no return.

The ship continued to move away from that distortion of space time, building velocity.  At twice the distance from launch Avenger was only having to deal with one quarter the pull, at double the distance again one sixteenth, according to the square of the distance.

Pandora watched her scanners the entire way out of the near gravity well of the Hole.  She could see that the Nation ships were busy, moving into a formation, as if they were going somewhere.  A check of the incoming vessels gave a high probability that they were going to come out of warp very near to the Surya base around Topaz IV.  And that was where she figured the task force within the Supersystem would also head, so they could get there about the same time as their outsystem force, to catch the Kingdom task force in a nutcracker.  And that was where she needed to be.

Pandora set the ship to get her there just before the outsystem force.  She was sure she would be a surprise that they wouldn’t find pleasant.  Nav set, she lay back in her comfortable chair and willed her reticular activating system to put her to sleep, and her internal alarm to wake her up when they neared the operation area.  She still felt fatigued from the night before, which brought a smile to her face.  Watcher had been very aroused, and very much into it.  It was funny how knowing a loved one was going into danger could affect the libido.  She would have to remember that in the future.

Chapter Four

There are no extraordinary men... just extraordinary circumstances that ordinary men are forced to deal with.   William Halsey

Pandora felt totally rested when her internal alarm woke her.  She quickly checked the readouts from the ship, satisfied that they were about where she had planned to be from the outset.  She was just entering the Topaz System, moving in FTL but starting to decelerate.  Avenger was one hour out from the gravity well limit, a limit that would give her problems if she penetrated it while still in FTL.  Crossing that limit would disrupt the inertial bubble and dump her back into normal space, where faster that light travel was impossible.  Inertia would flood the ship, and most likely she would come back into space as a spray of near light speed particles.  Not a proposition the woman was looking forward too.  But the ship was in the proper decel profile to come out of hyper well short of the limit, and decelerate down to point nine light before she entered the system proper.  From there she would continue to decel into the system until she was at her attack profile of point seven light, and heading for her target.

“Show me the disposition of the enemy,” she told the ship’s computer, and a holo screen switched the view from real space to a tactical representation.  Just like from one of those old movies me and my boyfriends used to pretend to watch while we were groping, she thought with a smile.  Except that she was actually paying attention to those old Space Wars movies, as they showed her dream in full CGI glory.  And here she was.

What the hell do I think I’m doing, she thought as she tracked the enemy ships on the holo.  I’m not a damned naval officer.  She thought about that for a moment as she watched the vector arrows of the first Nation of Humanity force move into the space of the G2 class star, heading toward the Kingdom of Surya force.  But I guess I’m the best we have.

She switched her attention to the second enemy force, moving from the opposite direction from the first and timed to reach the Surya base just minutes behind the first.  Catching them in a nutcracker, and wiping them out before they have a chance.  And they can’t even see them coming until they turn off that damned dangerous drive of theirs.

The Nation ships actually destroyed the space in front of the ship, the space that photons had to traverse to deliver their information.  And the photons disappeared with that space, rendering the ships invisible from the front.  The Supersystem was filled with probes that reported back to the station by wormhole gates.  Information that was transmitted to Avenger, giving her a glimpse at ships traveling effectively faster than light.  Their drives also caused ripples of gravity waves that travelled through all the dimensions of Hyper that the more advanced Donut vessels used, allowing Pandora’s own sensors to track the ships by those distortions.

And they surely can’t see me traveling hyperluminal, she thought with a smile.  When she slowed down her light waves would again precede her ship.  If she happened to be generating any.  The ship’s stealth field absorbed light and did not retransmit it.  And even ninety-nine point nine percent of her heat was sucked away by the wormhole heat sink.  The first they would see of Avenger was when she closed to attack range, and probably only after she opened fire.  Otherwise, even looking right at her with their sensors they were unlikely to see her.

Pandora checked her weapons load, something that Watcher had insisted on her doing as often as possible before closing to firing range.  She had of course balked at that, until he pointed that all the elite warriors of the ages were always making sure their weapons were ready, all the time.  Because all it took was one misfire to kill a soldier.  So we’ll just have to see that nothing like that happens to Daddy Carl’s little girl.  And Carl Latham, her father, was long dust in the earth, not that she cared much for what the hyper religious bastard had thought then.

Everything checked out, and she watched as her velocity dropped to below light and the range closed on the target.  A few of the enemy ships shifted in formation, and she wondered for a moment if they might have spotted her.  But after the initial shift there was no more motion other than straight at their target.

Pandora thought about her strategy for another moment while the closing velocity and the distance dropped.  The particle beam projectors gave her the option of four different loads, all corresponding to a separate wormhole portal to a different accelerator loop on the station.  Charged particles were best for hitting targets with full force, as they didn’t lose velocity in a charge strip, which wasn’t required for them.  The problem being that any kind of electromagnetic field could repel them, or at least spread them from a concentrated beam to a diffuse shower.  Uncharged particles didn’t have that problem, and could hit with a hard kinetic impact, but still lost some velocity in the stripping process.  Negative matter was a special use weapon.  Negative matter simply made a like amount of matter disappear on contact.  The matter and any effects it carried, including kinetic energy, just ceased to exist.  Due to conservation of mass more of the impacted matter would disappear, but not all that much, as a little bit of mass was the equivalent of a lot of energy.  Negative matter was really better when something needed to be breached without a lot of collateral damage.  And of course antimatter had to carry a charge, or it was nothing.  An uncharged anti-proton was a neutron.  But antimatter was the ultimate particle beam, causing kinetic destruction followed by the effects of total conversion of its mass and an equivalent mass of matter to energy.

Pandora set one of the particle beams for uncharged and one for antimatter, figuring that the uncharged beam might cause enough surface damage to mag field projector units to allow the antimatter through.  And then she checked her missiles.  Then she checked all the rest of her systems, and went over the weapons systems again.  She was satisfied with all the charges, lasers and defensive fields, but forced herself to check them again anyway.  And then she waited until the distance closed some more.

Got to watch those space altering fields, she thought, watching the enemy vectors closely.  Coming in front of a Nation ship would destroy her vessel.  Come directly astern?  She wasn’t sure what would happen, but she didn’t want to chance anything.  So she set her approach and retreat vectors with care, then waited.  Until the wait was over.

The ship’s clock started a countdown at ten seconds, Pandora just an observer to things that were going to happen faster than even her reaction time could account for.  At three seconds one of the enemy ships started to turn its vector a little, followed by another two a second later.  They’ve seen me, she thought.  Too late, she thought with a wolfish grin, as Avenger opened up with all weapons.

The lasers from the front ring hit first, two beams on two targets.  Both ships had electromag fields up, not strong enough, as they were not expecting an attack.  The ships were still moving at several times the speed of light subjective, so the beams were fired well ahead and shot quickly along the hulls, the projectors swinging them along to increase the milliseconds of contact, ripping through metal and opening rooms to space.  Particle beams hit a moment later, a quick burst of each on the two ships that were targeted.  Uncharged particles hit the hulls, causing ripping damage.  Followed by the antimatter beam which hit with explosive force.

Avenger dropped a quartet of missiles at the same time she fired her beam weapons.  The missiles took off at thirty thousand gravities accel, moving onto their separate targets, vessels further back in the formation that they could intersect at the times the hyperspatial ships got there.  It was a difficult mathematical problem, and like most such it didn’t provide perfect answers.  One came in too far to the front of one vessel and disappeared from current space-time.  One missed to the stern of a ship and exploded, but the blast could not catch the ship.  One entered the actual field containing a ship exploded overhead, sending a flood of heat and radiation into that vessel.  The last missile hit its target dead center.  The quarkium warhead blasted with hundreds of gigatons of power, and the ship was blown first to pieces, then to particles as its own antimatter breached containment.  The space destroying drive died in that instant.

“Eat shit, you xenophobe motherfuckers,” yelled Pandi over the grav wave com, following with her best rebel yell.

And then she was past the enemy ships, her stern lasers and particle beams taking them under fire for the fraction of a millisecond that they were viable targets.  She didn’t bother with any missiles, they just would have been decelerating to slow down from the imparted momentum of her ship, and would have been out of range by the time they had developed any vector toward the enemy warships.  Pandora smirked as she looked into her viewer, watching the expanding mass of one enemy ship, and the dead in space hulks of two others.  One of the two looked lifeless, while the other was a hive of activity as spacesuits and repair bots started to swarm over the surface.

Not bad for a quick strike in what really isn’t a warship, she thought, ordering Avenger to begin braking and vector changes to bring her onto the second group, a maneuver which could take several hours.  By that time the enemy ships would be in normal space, and she had no doubt they would find a message waiting for them that told of her existence.  The next group would be waiting.

“Could I convince you to preclude the second attack,” came the voice of Watcher over the com, a timber of anxiety coming through the words.

“No way, lover,” said Pandora, grinning.  “I’m having too much fun.”

“You realize that you have just killed over a thousand intelligent beings.”

You’re one to talk, thought Pandi, catching herself before she said something hurtful to Watcher.  After all, it wasn’t really he who had destroyed Galactic civilization.  It had only been his body under control of another mind.  Then Pandi thought about the men she had killed, and that brought another smile to her face.  I’m not always the nice girl, she thought, imagining the destruction of that ship her missile had hit.  And times like these call for us bad girls.

“I wish I could bring those bastards back to life so I could kill them again,” said Pandora through gritted teeth as she let the anger at those kind of people build within her.  “Those xenophobic, misogynistic, genocidal son of bitches.”

“You are not in the proper emotional state to go into combat,” said Watcher, his voice tone calming.  “You need to be in a better frame of mind, and not controlled by your emotions.”

“You know,” said Pandi, checking her tactical display to make sure nothing was about to bite her in the ass, “my uncle Clayton told me stories about being in the Marines during the Third Crusade.  And I think he would disagree with your assessment of the utility of emotions during combat.  He was a fighter pilot, and the Marines never believed in turning over air support roles to robots.  He told me that a good old mad was just the thing to take into a fight.”

“Interesting,” said Watcher, his voice so calm it felt almost hypnotic.  “But I think he was wrong in this situation.  Your brain is the only thing keeping you alive.”

“You trying to hypnotize me,” said Pandi, her voice rising along with her anger.  “If you want to talk rationally, then let’s talk.  But none of that damned mesmerizing crap.”

“OK,” said the superbeing, his own voice slightly agitated at being caught in a subterfuge.  “Just talk.  Since you have about four hours before you’ll be ready to engage the enemy again.  So let us go over some history of space warfare.  And just maybe you will see the wisdom of my suggestions.”

“I’m all ears,” said Pandi, leaning back in her chair and closing her eyes.  “Enlighten me.”

*     *     *

“What in the hell was that?” yelled Admiral Miklas Gerasi as the Orca bucked from hits from particle beams.

“Eat shit, you xenophobe motherfuckers,” came a voice over the grav wave receiver, following by a high pitched warbling yell.

There were shocked looking faces all over the large control room.  It was impossible to attack a ship while it was in Alcubierre drive.  Wasn’t it?  But something sure had.  It would take computer and targeting tech like they could only imagine to do what had been done to them.  And so we didn’t get the best the station had to offer, thought the Admiral, shaking his head and determining that the Nation of Humanity needed that tech if they were to realize their plans of Galactic conquest.  And of course they had used some kind of inertial bubble drive to catch his force, with accel and decel that also weren’t to be believed.  How do they get rid of that heat? thought Gerasi, looking back at the main viewer.  Wormholes?  That’s got to be it.

“It was a ship of some kind,” called out the Tactical Officer, looking at his instruments, a look of shock still etched on his face.

“A warship?” asked Captain Lashan, his eyes wide as he looked first to the Tactical Officer, then to the Admiral.

“Too small for any kind of warship I’ve heard of,” said the Tactical Officer, looking at his holo screen.

“What did they do to the rest of the force?” asked the Captain in a panicked voice.

“Be kind of hard to tell what they did while moving in hyper,” said the Admiral, raising an eyebrow as he looked at his Flag Captain.

“But, if we drop back to normal space and they come back,” said the man, sweat breaking on his brow.

“Do you have a fix on that ship?” the Admiral asked the Tactical Officer.

“As best I can, given our pseudo-velocity,” said the man.  “She moving away, decelerating at two thousand gravities, and curving her vector.  Best guess is that she’s moving to attack the second task force when they come back to normal space.”

“There you have it, Captain,” said the Admiral, giving a man he now thought of as a coward a sneer.  “Please drop out of Alcubierre, and give us a look at what’s going on.”

“Yes, sir,” said the Captain, giving the order to the helm.  Within moments the stars to front and rear returned to normal as the ship stopped dead in space.

“Send a signal on a tight beam to the other force,” ordered the admiral.  “Hopefully they’ll get it when they come back to normal space.”

“If the enemy doesn’t hit them first,” said the Tactical Officer, shaking his head.

“We’ll just have to pray that doesn’t happen,” said the Admiral, “and adjust our plans as if it will.”

“And who in the hell was that on that ship?” asked the Tactical Officer, looking around the bridge.  “The language sounded kind of familiar.  And that yell at the end.”

“Feeding it into the translator now,” said the Com Officer, working his board.  “OK, wait a second.”

“There is small particle debris behind us,” called out one of the sensor techs.  The viewer switched to behind, where the tactical display showed a radar image of a cloud of fragments swiftly expanding.

“We also have two ships motionless in space behind us,” called out another tech, and the viewer switched from first a ship sitting lifeless against the mass of stars in backdrop, to one that was a swarm of people and robots frantically making repairs.

“I have a match on the language,” said the Com Officer, looking up from his board.  “Colloquial English, circa 2100, old Earth.”

“No wonder it sounded so familiar,” said the Captain, nodding his head.

Yes¸ thought Gerasi, nodding.  English had been the language of the Old Empire, the one that had fallen over five thousand years before.  The Nation’s own language was based on it, though it had diverged quite a bit since the fall.

“Computer thinks the speaker originated in the Southern United States, as that Empire was called.”

“Amazing,” said the Admiral, looking at a viewer that was showing a picture of the enemy ship on closest approach.  “And that yell she let out.”

“No references in the data banks,” said the com.  “Frightening though, when coming from something streaking by at point seven light.  And I’m receiving a transmission from Manta.  She suffered superficial damage to the ship, but major to her drive.  They are expediting repairs.”

“And what about the other ship?”

“Skate, sir,” said the tech, looking at the viewer, which was back with a view of the ship dead in space.  “Major damage and casualties, but her Captain thinks he can get her moving again in a day or so.”

A day or so, thought the Admiral.  “I’d hoped to be out of this area and back to the base in less time than that.  So should I leave someone behind to protect her, or just take the crew off and scuttle?

“Where do you think she came from?” asked the Captain, interrupting the Admiral’s train of thought.

Valaris Midas would not have interrupted my thoughts.  The Admiral shot a glare at the Flag Captain, while remembering that a good command team was like a marriage.  And he couldn’t see this one ending in any other manner than divorce.

“She came from the Donut,” growled Gerasi at his subordinate, with a look that told the man his Admiral thought him an idiot.  “Where the hell else do you think she came from, with that kind of tech?”

“Then maybe we should attack the station,” said the Captain, squaring his shoulders and trying to look brave.

Gerasi shook his head in disgust and turned away from the officer.  He thought of the attack he had carried out on the huge station two years before.  The thing was so large that he was sure he could do no critical damage to it.  And it had weapons that could wipe out his fleet, if given a chance.  He had barely been able to get in close and board using a ruse, to capture what he needed and go.  Losing almost half his ships and over half his crew in the process.

“No,” he said, turning back to his Flag Captain.  “We will not be attacking that thing while I am here.  We will operate out here on the fringes.”

“And if they send more ships?”

“If they had them, or the crew to man them, I think we would have been swarmed under.  Com,” he said, walking up behind the com tech.  “Give Manta orders to stay with Skate.  She is to escort her sister back to base when both are capable.  Meanwhile,” he said, walking back to his chair, “get us underway and catch up to the fleet.”

The Helm looked back at the Captain, waiting for the order to come through the chain of command.

“You heard the man,” said the Captain, plopping down in his own chair.  “Engage the drive.”

The helmsman nodded and turned back to his board.  Ahead a hole of darkness grew as the drive swallowed up space before the photons riding on it could reach the ship.  And behind a lesser darkness grew as Orca outran the pursuing photons.

Chapter Five

Nation of Humanity Directive 4655-1.  Orders to the Fleet.  You are directed to move your ships to the vicinity of Galactic Coordinates 00:00:00, and there to take control of all inhabitable worlds in the location known as the Supersystem.  After taking control you are to eliminate all non-humans from all inhabitable worlds with dispatch.  Said aliens may be used in construction projects and other work as deemed necessary, as long as the final result is their termination, that the worlds of the Supersystem may become fit habitations for humanity.  Office of the Church of Humanity.

“Unknown ships appearing to starboard,” called out the Tactical Officer.

“What the hell,” cursed Fleet Admiral Nagara Krishnamurta, sitting up in his bed and jumping to the floor.  He left his day cabin still in his casual uniform, boots left behind on the floor near the bed.

“Red alert,” called out the voice of the ship’s computer over the intercom.

“What do we have?” asked the Admiral, walking onto his flag bridge.

“Twelve ships just appeared out of nowhere,” said Lieutenant Commander Klish, the Flag Officer, gesturing toward the screen.  “They appear to be Nation battleships.  Range, twelve light seconds.”

They could have come in a lot closer, thought the Admiral, studying the twelve ships that were accelerating toward him in normal space.  We couldn’t have seen them coming in with that damned drive of theirs.

Alcubierre drive was dangerous, and ships could not see what was in front of them while they were using it.  It was especially hazardous when initiating combat, as a ship was likely to drop out of drive to find itself surrounded.  The inertialess warp bubble drive the Kingdom of Surya used was a lot safer, and they could actually see what was around them while in the drive.  Added to that was the fact that the warp bubble drive could get a ship up to a much greater velocity than the Alcubierre, though it took time to accelerate up to any kind of useful star travelling velocity.  The Alcubierre could go from a standing stop to pseudo hyper-light in an instant.

“All ships report weapons hot and drives ready,” said the Com Officer from her station.

“Well, that’s a relief,” said the Admiral with a grin, knowing he would have the hide of any captain who had not been able to get his ship ready for combat.  He studied the formation of the enemy ships, which had come in a wall formation, probably so none would endanger another when their space destroying drives were active.  He had the same number of vessels, of approximately similar size and armaments.  He could maneuver much quicker than they could, but they could, under the proper circumstances, escape using their hyper capabilities.

“Why did they come in from this angle?” asked the Tactical Officer, looking up from her board.  “They could have made a straight vector attack from their base system, and we still wouldn’t have seen them coming.”

“I wonder,” said the Admiral, his eyes locked on the viewer.  “Do you fanatics play some game, to catch me unawares?  Then why turn off your drives at such a distance, when you sure could have come in closer.”

“They’re firing,” yelled the Tactical Officer.  The lasers hit just before she spoke, the particle beams not long after, while the images of missiles leaving the enemy ships appeared among those vessels ten seconds later.

The Admiral had to admit that their fire control was very good if they could unleash all their weapons systems in such a short span.  Then there was no time for admiration.  “All ships, open fire,” he called out, watching as the missiles moved his way.  The Danaus shook as she accelerated missiles from her tubes.  Moments later the bright circles of fusion fire shown on the screen as the missiles sped toward the enemy.

“We have one hundred and twenty inbound,” called out the Tactical Officer.  “Same number outbound.  Wait.  Two forty inbound.  We’re firing another spread to match them.”

“Why did they commit to a slugging match,” said the Admiral under his breath.  “It makes no sense.”  The best strategy for an equally matched enemy would have been to take him on near their own station, where they would receive the support.  Instead, the Suryan station would soon open fire, and the enemy would be outgunned by a slight margin.  And a slight margin was all that was needed in space.

“We have more ships,” yelled out the Tactical Officer.  “Coming in from astern at nine light seconds.”

“Dammit,” cursed the Admiral as the equation of battle flipped in his mind.  Now he was significantly outnumbered, and there really wasn’t anything he could do about it but fight and die.  “Target those ships with missiles, and continue to concentrate on that first group with the lasers and particle beams.”

“Yes, sir,” said the Tactical Officer in a voice that held little hope.

What else can we do? thought the commander of the Surya task force.  He wouldn’t surrender his people to those fanatics.  That would be a fate worse than death.  So death was the only choice.

*     *     *

“We have them,” called out Captain Dimi Lashan when the task force came out of Alcubierre drive.  The image of the enemy force, and the friendly force beyond them, was centered on the screen.  The enemy space station was to the left side of the viewer, just above the rounded outline of the world it orbited.

“It would seem so,” said Admiral Gerasi, standing in front of the view with his hands behind his back.  He was in full battle armor, as were all the members of the crew, but his helmet was still on the attachment of his seat back.  He saw no use in being uncomfortable during the approach, but now they were about to enter combat, and the Admiral hurried back to his seat, which was configuring itself into an acceleration couch.

“Attack plan Delta,” he ordered as he lay back on the couch and readied himself for something he didn’t like.

“Attack plan Delta, aye,” called out the Tactical Officer and Helmsman at the same time.

The acceleration cut in, first a gee, then several, then building up.  The Nation’s inertial compensators were still primitive, though much more advanced than prior to the looting of the Donut.  Only able at this point to handle about twenty gravities, the excess weight still piled up, and the Admiral found himself gasping for air as the force of eight gravities pushed him back in the chair.  The enemy could pull many more with their inertialess drive, but not enough to get away from his already high velocity ships.  So he was confident enough in the capabilities of his force.

“Missiles firing,” croaked the Tactical Officer through lungs that barely functioned.  “It’s back,” called out the Tactical Officer a moment later, and Gerasi pulled himself up enough to look at the screen, where the vector arrow of their recent visitor was showing, pointing right at his other task force.

*     *     *

“What the hell is that,” yelled out the Tactical Officer of the Danaus, pointing at the viewer.  A vector arrow just appeared on the screen, about three hundred thousand kilometers from the Nation task force to their front.  More vector arrows appeared on the screen, a quartet, all accelerating at impossible rates toward the enemy.  One hit a ship dead center, and the large battleship broke up in the massive explosion.  The other three were intercepted before striking their targets, computers and lasers able to compensate for the swift motion of the incoming weapons.  One detonated close enough to one of the Nation warships to cause considerable damage.  One more Nation ship flared in several places and started a tumble in space away from its companions, hit by light amp or particle beam weapons.  Within six seconds the space ship had passed the Nation task force and was accelerating away.

“She’s traveling over fifty thousand KPS,” called out the Tactical Officer in a disbelieving voice.  The incoming laser and particle beam fire from the Nation ships had ceased as they tried to hit the darting, weaving enemy that was heading away from them.  “And decelerating at three thousand gravities.”

“Three thousand gravities,” yelled out the Helm, her voice rising.  “That’s impossible.”

“Not for the Ancestors,” said the Admiral.  “How long till she kills her velocity and comes back?”

“Twenty seven minutes to kill her velocity,” said the Navigator, fingers flying over his board.  “Another twenty seven to return.”

“So they’re out of the fight for the next hour or so,” said the Admiral, looking at the enemy ships.  “And we’re still in it.”

*     *     *

“The damned thing disappeared,” yelled the Tactical Officer on board the flagship Dolphin.

“How?’ yelled back Commodore Valaris Midas, who was now the task force commander with the complete destruction of the battleship Eel with all hands.  And one of the ships in his own division was drifting in space after the near miss by another weapon.

“I have no idea, Commodore,” said the man, shrugging his shoulders.  “They have some incredible stealth for us to have missed them coming in.  But we had a good track and lock on her leaving.  We should still be seeing her.”

And that was what the Admiral was trying to warn us about, thought the Commodore, remembering the garbled grav wave message that had appeared on their com system as soon as they came out of Alcubierre.  Of course the warning didn’t really match the reality.

“Another message coming in from the Admiral,” called out the Com Tech, and then Gerasi’s face was back on the screen.

“That ship is extremely dangerous,” said the Admiral, his eyes blazing out of the screen.  “Take all caution, and use all resources to destroy it.”

“Acknowledged,” said Midas, knowing that his words would take twenty seconds to reach the Admiral.  “We…”

“She’s back,” yelled the Tactical Officer, and Midas looked over to the side viewer to see that the red vector arrow had reappeared.  And another four smaller arrows had separated and were moving toward his force.

“How in the Hells did she do that?” yelled Midas, watching as vector arrows left his task force and crawled toward the enemy with pitiful velocity numbers beneath them.  The incoming missiles had numbers that were anything but pitiful, moving at fifty thousand kilometers a second while pulling thirty thousand gravities of acceleration.

“All ships,” he yelled, hoping that his order would actually mean something.  “All weapons fire at those missiles.”

Fast they might be, but the battleships could still track them, and lasers could still intersect them.  Those beams struck out at light speed, and missed as the missiles started moving in evasive patterns, while strong jamming blanked the tracking systems.

“What the Hells,” yelled Midas, seeing the tactical screen turn to a mass of static, with the red vector arrows of missiles jumping all over the place.

By chance one of the lasers still struck a missile, and it turned into an expanding pinpoint of eye hurting brilliance.  Another missile got struck in the blast and detonated as well.  That left two still heading for a target, and fortunately for the Nation task force they both picked on the same ship.  Either warhead would have demolished that battleship.  Two doubly demolished it, which meant naught to the men who died.  They really didn’t care if they were blown to molecules or to atoms.  The effect to them was the same.

Midas swore as he watched one of his ships blow up, then swore again as his own ship shuddered and warning klaxons sounded.

“We were hit with a particle beam,” shouted the Tactical Officer.  “Minor damage to hull systems.  Electromag field down over…”

The ship shuddered again, this time a much deeper shake that told of a pounding on the armored hull.

“Antimatter in that one,” yelled the Tactical Officer.

“Major damage to decks one through ten,” called out the officer sitting at damage control.

A woman’s voice came out of the com with a chilling warbling yell, and beam weapons continued to fly both ways as the ship closed.  Beams weapons which never missed from one side, and always did from the other.

And then the enemy vessel was again past, lasers and particle beams striking from her stern as she moved at random vectors while fleeing the ships of the Nation.

“She’s gone again,” called out the Tactical Officer.

“I can see that, you idiot,” said Midas under his breath.  “But where the Hells has she gone?”

“It has to be a wormhole,” said the Navigation Officer.  “It’s from the Donut, as far as we know.  And that thing is used to generate wormholes.”

“You must be correct,” said the Commodore, a tight smile on his face.  “Did you get a fix on their point of appearance?”

“I have a tentative plot,” said the Nav Officer, nodding.  “I can probably tighten it up if she comes through again.”

“Do that,” said the Commodore, pointing at the screen.  “No matter what, get a fix on that point.  And you,” he said, pointing to the Com Tech.  “Get ready to send that fix to all ships.  Maybe we can accomplish something.”

“Aye, sir,” said the tech.

“Here she comes again,” yelled the Tactical Officer.  The red vector arrow appeared again, heading toward the force at high velocity.  Missile arrows appeared again, separating from the ship.

How many of those damned things can that ship carry, thought the Commodore, watching as the arrows continued to separate and single out their targets.  The plot erupted with static again, the red vector arrows jumping all over the place.  We’ll never get her once she gets away from that hole and starts for us.

The Commodore sweated in his couch, watching the missiles come in.  Two more were knocked out this time as well, but the other two went after separate targets, and two more battleships were blotted from the heavens.  And then the ship was past and heading for its exit hole.

“What’s the Suryan force doing?” he asked, in a moment of panic forgetting that they were even engaged with another enemy.

“They’re concentrating on the Admiral’s task force,” said the Tactical Officer.

Thank the God for small favors, thought the Commodore as he looked over his mauled force.  He had lost four ships, and two of those left were heavily damaged.  But not enough to keep them from firing.

“I have the hole plotted,” said the Nav Officer.

“Coordinates sent,” called out the Com Tech.

“All ships to fire all weapons on that point,” said the Commodore.  “Maximum power, continuous.”

“We won’t be able to keep that up too long,” said the Tactical Officer, looking back at the Commodore.

“Fire as long as possible,” said the Commodore.  “Until the barrels melt, or we’re out of power.”

*     *     *

“I think you’ve done enough,” said Watcher over the circuit.

Pandora felt the big smile on her face and shook her head.  “I’m having too much fun, lover,” she said, watching the approach to the wormhole mouth.

“I could shut down your fun by closing the hole,” threatened Watcher, but she could tell by his tone that it wasn’t going to happen.  She had always been good at judging men, and using that judgment to manipulate them into doing what she wanted.  It was no different with the superman she had come to know so well.

“Close it down and I’ll just circle back in normal space,” she said with a smirk on her face.  “It may take a little bit longer, but I’ll still get er done.”

“You are insufferable,” said the being on the other end of the com link.  “They are going to figure out what you are doing and blow you out of space.  That is not a warship you are in.  And you are even out of missiles.”

“I figure a couple of strafing runs with light amp and particle beams can whittle them down a bit more.”

“And you don’t even have your armor on,” said Watcher, his voice rising in exasperation.  “No wonder you didn’t want a visual.”

“I’m fighting a bunch of old Greek galleys in a fighter jet,” she said with a laugh.  “What the hell do I have to worry about?”

“They are a little bit more advanced than a galley,” said Watcher, his voice still at exasperation level.  “Their weapons can still hurt you.  Enough of them can destroy you.”

“They have to hit me first,” said Pandi, watching as the ripple in space that was the wormhole appeared to her front.  “Tell you what.  I’ll just go in one more little time, then high tail it out of here.”

Communications blacked out for a moment as she entered the wormhole, then came back as she exited the other end of the portal, lined up and ready for another attack run.

“We are taking fire,” called out the ship’s computer as a klaxon sounded.  The ship shook and bucked.

“What’s going on?” yelled the voice of Watcher, and then the com was gone.  Not interrupted, just gone, cut off.

“We have hull breaches,” called out the computer.  “Lasers and particle beams impacting the hull.”

“Shit,” cursed Pandora, looking over the control board, which kept fluctuating between active and down.  “Get us the hell out here.  Maximum velocity, maximum evasive.”

“Engines two and three are down,” said the computer voice.  “More hull breaches.”

The ship continued to shake, and Pandora could now hear the sound of air whistling through, something.  And suddenly there was no air to breath, and she felt a moment of regret that she hadn’t put on that armor after all.

Chapter Six

I had rather have a plain, russet-coated Captain, that knows what he fights for, and loves what he knows, than that which you call a Gentle-man and is nothing else.   Oliver Cromwell

“We’ve got her,” cried Midas, raising his fist in the air.  On the viewer was a telescopic shot of the enemy vessel.  He was surprised at how small it was, to have done so much damage to his force.  Now it looked pretty damned helpless, with laser light reflecting from its skin and alloy boiling off into space.  A couple of particle beams struck as well, cutting runnels through the hull metal.

And then she blurred away, using her impossible engines to pull six hundred gravities on an evasive course that his weapons could not follow at distance.

“We hit her hard,” yelled out the Tactical Officer.

“Not hard enough,” growled Midas, watching as the other ship juked away.  At five light seconds difference there was no way they could tell where the ship was at this moment, and so could only fire a wide spread and hope for a hit.  There were some hits, some reflected light and vapor boiling into space.  But not enough to totally destroy the vessel.

“Midas,” came a voice over the com, and the Commodore turned to the repeater screen to see the Admiral, sitting on his bridge.  “Break action with that Donut vessel.  We need your firepower to swing the action against the Suryan force.”

“Yes, sir,” replied the Commodore, knowing it would be six seconds before the admiral received his reply, turning back to the tactical screen which had switched view to the main fleet action.

There were nine Nation ships dueling with twelve Suryan ships.  Even bringing in his five functional vessels would not be enough to ensure victory.  Not with the Suryan station adding its fire to the mix.  Unless he did something rash.

“Order all ships to engage Alcubierre drive,” he said to the Captain and the Com Tech.  “Course directly toward the enemy force and their station.”

“Toward the station?” asked the Captain, his eyes wide.

“Yes,” said Midas, nodding his head.  “Engage on my command.”  Midas waited for the acknowledgements to come in from the other vessels, time in which he watched one of Gerasi’s ships taken out by missiles.  “Engage.”

Space blurred ahead before turning black, while it darkened behind, the ship warping space.  The engines were only engaged for a second.  Anything more would have risked plowing into the planet.  There was still risk, and Midas breathed out a deep breath as the drive shut off and the ship sat above the planet.

All five of his ships were still intact, none having come close enough to the planetary body to wipe themselves from existence.  The same could not be said for the enemy force.

The station was now a mass of drifting debris, caught on the edge of a drive field and totally destroyed.  Eight of the battleships were also gone, blotted out of existence when their space was destroyed.  Midas knew that there were new debris fields of elementary particles somewhere behind his ships.  Conservation of matter and energy dictated that nothing could truly be destroyed, with the exception of negative/positive matter interaction, which was a special case.  So new particles were spawned from the quantum foam, and small areas of space would be cauldrons of radioactivity for hours, until the quarks and leptons and other bits spread through the region.

His three damaged ships, still coming on through normal space, were firing at the enemy ships, as were the eight remaining ships of Gerasi’s group, shifting their fire onto the survivors, while missiles in flight took note of their original targets disappearing and re-acquired new targets.

“All ships,” ordered the Commodore over the com.  “Find a target and open fire.”

The enemy ships were in shock, and committed a major error in trying to spread their fire over the entire Nation force, instead of concentrating and taking them out in detail.  First one enemy battleship died, secondary explosions erupting through the hull while escape pods and shuttles headed toward the planet.  Some were shot down, while most made it into the atmosphere and to temporary safety.  Then a second battleship took multiple missile hits and exploded in space.  The remaining two tried to make it around the curve of the planet, gaining distance and cover.  Midas put his five ships in pursuit while Gerasi’s force came on.

*     *     *

“That little ship is hammering the hell out of them,” said the Tactical Officer as they watched the vector arrow move onto the enemy force, then move on for about a minute and disappear.  Instantly it was back on another attack run.

“They must be using a wormhole,” said Fleet Admiral Nagara Krishnamurta, nodding at the screen.  “And that means the Donut.”

“So our allies are helping us out,” said Lt. Commander Klish, looking up from his control panel and smiling.

But how much of allies are they? thought the Admiral, watching as the small ship began another run, and another one of the enemy battleships exploded from a missile hit.  And how much are we just allies of convenience.

Of course, Watcher and his consort had played it very fair with the Kingdom, equipping them with exactly the same technology and data that the Nation of Humanity had stolen from the station.  No more, no less, maintaining the status quo.  Not truly allies, as the pair had offered no military support to the Kingdom.  And they had refused to allow the Kingdom to set foot on the enormous station.  But if they hadn’t given the Kingdom the catch up tech, the Nation would have rolled over Surya.  If not today, then surely tomorrow.

“What are the other ships doing?” he asked, turning in his couch toward the Tactical Officer.

“Maintaining course,” called out that officer.  “Maintaining fire on us.”

“Continue to fire on those ships,” said the Admiral, looking over at the Com Tech, feeling the Danaus shake underneath as she fired particle beams and missiles, and was hit by return beams.  “Order the station to do so as well.  We’ll let our little friend out there take care of the other force, for now.  They seem to be able to handle those ships.”

“Aye, sir,” yelled the com, sending out the messages.

The forward viewer lit up again with a flash like lightning.  “She’s taken out another battleship,” called Tactical.  “At this rate we’ll be able to stop firing and just watch.”

“Don’t get too cocky,” warned the Admiral, wagging a finger from side to side.  “And keep a close watch on those other ships.  The last thing we want is to give in to arrogance.”

“Shit,” yelled out one of the sensor techs, the one detailed to keep track of the ship that was attacking the Nation force to front.  “They hit her.”

“How?” asked the Admiral, coming out of his couch and walking over to the tech.  The screen above the station was showing the small ship, lit up with laser and particle beam strikes.  Vapor was boiling off the hull, and pieces were flying off from particle beam hits.  And then the ship sped away, the cameras following it as far as possible before a violent maneuver caused the video to lose lock.

“Keep a close watch on those ships,” ordered the Admiral, pointing to the screen that showed the reduced enemy force.  There were still six ships, though he was sure some of them were damaged, but to what extent he couldn’t tell.

“Yes, sir,” said the tech, while the Admiral turned to look at the main viewer, which showed the other nine vessels still firing at his.

A cheer erupted as one of those ships went up in a bright flash that brightened and expanded again until there was nothing left but hot plasma.  The Admiral was about to say something when Danaus shook and trembled, and the officer had to steady himself to keep from falling.  He looked over at a nearby screen in time to see the space station come apart like it was made of sand and a giant had kicked it.  About twenty percent of the station just disappeared, while the rest broke into pieces, none more than a ton.  The Admiral knew there were no survivors from that strike.  Commodore Sundraka.  All of her crew.

“They’re gone,” called out a voice behind the Admiral, and he turned to look at the main viewer, and the other three of his ships that were still in space over the planet.  The rest were either completely gone or in pieces.

“What the Hells happened,” he croaked, noting the enemy ships that were now in close proximity to his own.

“They warped out in their drive and came in among us,” yelled out the Navigator, who was staring into a screen.  “That damned drive took out the station and the other eight ships.”

“Tactical,” yelled the Admiral, a sinking feeling in his stomach, knowing the enemy ships were not in a state of shock.  “Open fire on the nearest ship.”

But the enemy beat his ships to it, and Danaus shuddered again as particle beams craved into her hull, imparting their kinetic energy.  A ship started venting gas and secondary explosions blew through the hull.  Escape pods and shuttles launched, the crew that still could getting off the ship while they could.  Some were shot down before the angry eyes of the bridge crew, some drifted after taking disabling shots, but most made it into the atmosphere.  Then a second of the remaining ships blew up in a catastrophic detonation, then blew out again as antimatter touched matter.  There would be no survivors from that one.

“Get us the hell out of here,” yelled the Admiral, knowing that they couldn’t get away in space.  The Alcubierre drive vessels would catch them before they could accelerate up to enough speed to escape, and would then wipe them from the Universe.  “Take us around the planet.  Tell Aneus to follow.  Everyone prepare to abandon ship as soon as we get clear of the enemy.  To the planet.”  And hopefully to the base, where maybe we can gather enough strength to take to the jungle and fight back if they come down.  At least for a little while.

Danaus accelerated away from the fight, going low and using the curve of the planet.  Alcuberrie drive could not follow around the planet without swinging wide out, and they risked a catastrophic collision with the large body if they tried to engage their drive close in.  And the Suryan ships could accelerate much faster in normal space.  They still took ten minutes of close in fire, and some close missile explosions, but they made it around the planet, and kept increasing the distance while the crew got to escape pods and shuttles.

All the Nation ships found when they finally caught up were two battleships scuttling in space, blowing to pieces that fell into the atmosphere and burned up.  And a swarm of small ships plunging into that atmosphere, headed to a landing on the planet below.

Chapter Seven

If the leader is filled with high ambition and if he pursues his aims with audacity and strength of will, he will reach them in spite of all obstacles.   Karl Von Clausewitz

Pandora had worked as a spacer for over a decade before she jumped through the wormhole to the future that was now.  She had done construction work, crewed a freighter, and finally worked as a comet prospector in the Kuiper Belt.  So as soon as the pressure started to drop she knew what to do, the most unintuitive act a human can do while there is no air in the room.  Breath out.  She opened her mouth and let the vacuum suck the air through her throat.  Her lungs and her throat ached from the friction of gas moving too fast.  And then her lungs were empty.

Pandi knew that the nanobubbles in her blood stream would be supplying her with enough air, and the nanites would work hard to scrub the CO2 from her body.  But she still needed to work fast if the membranes of her lungs weren’t to sustain major damage.  That damage could be repaired in time, but she needed to function now.

The lights flickered again, and the deck of the ship vibrated under her feet.  She thought it a particle beam, which gave more of a hammering vibration than a laser, which was more of a straight push.  The ship rocked as it continued to evade, pushing slightly past the capabilities of the engine’s compensators.  She grabbed for a hand hold on the wall and then to another, while emergency lights came up and stayed steady.  She reached the section of wall she needed and pushed her thumb to the panel.

The wall receded and an armored suit came into view in the cubby revealed.  Pandi twisted around and fell back, her legs and arms fitting into the limbs of the suit.  In her younger years she had remembered watching a movie about a man who had built a suit of super armor that basically fitted itself to his body.  This was the realization of that dream, a suit of battle armor that unfolded, then folded over her limbs and body.  The seams disappeared as soon as it was in place, the built in nanosystems erasing any opening and making it one seamless piece of metal.  A helmet lowered onto her head and locked in place, while gloves moved into position and sealed onto the arms of the suit.  Sweet cool air flooded the armored suit, and the woman took great breaths through lungs that still hurt.

Should have had the damned thing on in the first place, she thought, walking out of the cubby in the fitted armor that moved with her motions.  Watcher will give me hell about that when I get back to the Donut.  Assuming I get back.

Pandora tried to call up the link to Watcher as power came back to the bridge systems.  But there was nothing there.

“Computer,” she said, frowning as a mental link wouldn’t come up.  “Computer.  What is our status?”

Receiving no answer she walked over to the control panel and breathed a sigh of relief that there were still functioning systems onboard.  She called up a holo of damage control, and almost screamed when she saw all of the flashing red lights on the schematic of the ship.  Touching a gloved finger to the schematic, she activated a vid of the wormhole gate room, and swore as she looked at the ruin of what was once a portal back to home.  The framework that held the negative matter was gone, with the exception of a couple of twisted pieces.  And there were holes in the hull where powerful lasers had eaten through.

“Now what the hell am I going to do?” she asked herself, and about jumped out of her skin when she received an answer.

“What are your orders, Mistress?” said the voice of the ship’s computer.

“Why didn’t you answer before?”

“I was offline momentarily,” said the ship’s avatar.  “But I was able to reboot and activate the comp in your suit, now that you have decided to wear it.”

“Don’t be a wiseass,” she told the machine with a feeling of embarrassment.  The damned machine is right, much as I hate to admit.  “What is our status?”

“We are in bad shape,” said the computer, its voice no longer completely calm.

It’s an avatar after all, thought the organic member of the team.  Programmed to act like a real person.  But the old station comp also acted like a real person, up to the point where it killed to stay aware.  “Define bad shape.”

“There is only one functioning engine,” said the computer, sounding like a man ticking off points on its digital fingers.  “All weapon systems are off line, though I should have the forward laser partially functional within the next twenty minutes.  All wormhole links are down.”

“That sounds bad, but at least we are alive and out of reach of those fanatics for the moment,” said Pandi, pushing the nagging worry to the back of her mind.

“And the antimatter storage unit is going to lose containment within one hour and forty-eight minutes.”

“What?” shouted Pandora, a chill running up her spine as her guts roiled.  “How the hell did that happen?  What can we do about it?”

“The power connections to the containment unit were severed by a PB.  The same blast also took ninety percent of the crystal matrix batteries with it.”

“Can we jettison the unit?”

“Negative,” said the computer.  “Both outer and inner hatches are jammed and welded shut.  And the door to the MAM compartment is also closed off from melting and structural sagging.”

“Can you get a robot in the compartment to do something?” asked Pandora, her own mind now on overdrive, even as she realized the comp would have thought of everything that she would.

“All of the repair bots in the compartment have been knocked out of service,” said the computer.

“How long to get one to cut its way in through the hull?” she asked, her heart sinking as she thought of the thick hull metal that could withstand all but the most powerful of lasers and particle beams, like the ones that had savaged her ship.

“Longer than we have.”

“Crap,” screamed Pandora Latham, smacking the hard hand of her suit onto the panel.  She walked around for a moment, trying to come up with something.  “What about the nanites?  Can’t they reconstruct the power feeds?”

“All nanites within the MAM compartment have been destroyed,” said the computer.

That was the problem with nanoscale robots.  There was no way to shield them, and any kind of strong electromagnetic pulse could fry their systems.  “And I’m guessing that the backup nanites were destroyed as well.”

“Yes,” said the computer, a bit of exasperation creeping into its generated voice.  “All four of the shielded backup chambers were destroyed.  And any attempt to inject more nanites into the chamber will meet with failure.  There is just not sufficient time to build up to adequate levels within the chamber.  Besides which, the radiation levels in the MAM chamber are too high for nanites to function in.”

And that was the other problem with the ubiquitous tech.  It seemed capable of doing anything and everything.  It was so easy to depend on, that one sometimes forgot its limitations.

I can always abandon ship, and hope that someone friendly comes along before I run out of air.  Of course it’s more likely that someone unfriendly will come along, and then I will wish my air was gone.

“How long to get to that planet?” she asked, turning back toward the control board.

“At current velocity and orientation, twenty-six minutes and five seconds,” answered the comp.

“And what would be our velocity when we reach the atmosphere?”

“Point two one c,” answered the computer.

“So we burn up in the atmosphere?”

“That is the likely outcome,” answered the computer.  “I would not recommend that course of action.”

“No shit,” said Pandi, grimacing.  “And how long to get there with sufficient decel to make a planetfall?”

“One hour and forty-three minutes.”

“Then set that course and get us going,” said Pandi, a smile creasing her face, again feeling hope.  “Lickity split.”

“The Nation of Humanity Ships will be in proximity to the planet when we arrive.”

“We’ll deal with that when we need to,” said Pandi, looking at the hatch that led from the bridge to the rest of the ship.  “Just get us moving, and I’m going to look into some preparation.”

*     *     *

Fleet Admiral Nagara Krishnamurta cursed again under his breath as he looked up at the bright sun and wiped the sweat from his brow.  He had only been on the ground for about an hour and already his uniform was soaked.  The men around him in battle armor seemed to be doing better.  Their suits had environmental controls, but they would not have power forever, especially since they had a limited supply of power cells.

Why the hell didn’t I get into my armor? thought the Admiral as he scanned the landing field with the glasses he had commandeered from the shuttle.  But things had happened too fast, and he had never taken the time to get into the armor that was both spacesuit and battle harness.  More fool I, he thought, cursing again.  They had seemed safe in orbit around their base planet, and then all hell had broken.

The flash of an explosion over the field pulled his attention back to the here and now.  Seconds later the crack of that blast reached his ears.  Men and women were fighting and dying on that field.  The Suryan Marine contingent on the base was contesting the landing forces of the Nation of Humanity.  Already the Nation had landed several hundred troops in a half dozen shuttles.  One shuttle sat on the edge of the field as a burned out hulk.  A couple of Suryan shuttles also sat on the field, empty.  Smoke was rising from the jungle a couple of kilometers away, where his flag officer’s shuttle had gone down to explode on contact.  And with it, his flag officer, Lieutenant Commander Klish.  What do I tell the boy’s family, he thought, then laughed.  Why do I think I’ll ever get the chance to tell them anything?

“The Marines are about to retreat from the field entirely,” said Lt. Commander Dasha Mandrake, once Tactical Officer of Aneus, now the Admiral’s Executive Officer by default, crouching next to him in full battle armor.  “The Major says there is no way they can hold.”

A pair of ground attack shuttles came roaring over the field at that moment, dropping bombs and firing rockets.  Explosions rippled along the field, the concussive blast reaching into the surrounding jungle as balls of fire rose into the air.  Behind them came another pair of assault shuttles, slowing rapidly and dropping to the field on fans.  As soon as their landing pads touched ground men in battle rig were pouring from the vehicles.  A few were shot down as they looked for cover, but the great majority of the fifty newcomers made it to protection.

Something streaked through the sky, and a bright flash twenty kilometers away was followed by a ground shaking rumble.  Hitting us with kinetic rounds, thought the Admiral, shaking his head.  Whenever they can find a concentration of us.  Which meant he had to either get under some cover that would spoof their sensors, like this very thick jungle they were in, or maintain close contact, like they were on the landing field.  And close contact was just another kind of death.  They were outnumbered and outgunned, and it was only a matter of time.  Then we’ll take the time, thought the Admiral, who had boxed at the academy and had no quit in him.

A pattern of mortars rippled across the advancing enemy.  Counter battery took the Suryan mortars under fire, followed by the roar of a kinetic round striking from space.

“Tell them to get those indirect fire weapons back,” he yelled at Mandrake.  He looked up at the sky again, wondering when they would be picked up by those eyes in the sky.  “And get yourself under cover,” he said, looking back at the woman.  “No telling how long before they pick up your electronics out here in the open.”

“Then you need to get under cover as well, sir,” said the officer, motioning toward the path down from the hilltop back into the jungle.  “You really can’t do much out here.”

Krishnamurta nodded his head, then took another quick look through the glasses.  Some of the structures at the edge of the base were going up in explosions, the last cover for his marines before they were forced into the jungle.  Then it would come down to guerilla warfare.  So be it, thought the pugnacious Admiral, putting the glasses away and following his officer into the shadows under the enormous trees.  His ancestors had won a planet, taking it away from despotic rulers.  And he could bleed his enemy, if nothing else, and make him regret coming down to the surface to challenge the Suryan forces.

*     *     *

“The Marine commander says he has the enemy on the run,” said the Liaison Officer, looking up from his station on the flag bridge.  “He says that the base is ours.”

Admiral Miklas Gerasi smiled as he looked at the orange tinted planet on the viewer.  I’ve won a great victory this day, he thought, turning to look at another screen where two of his battleships were cruising beside his, moving toward orbital insertion.  I took some losses, but that was really because of that devil from the Station interfering.  Quick thinking on Midas’ part, and he deserves the credit for that.  Otherwise we would have been the debris floating in space, and not the Suryan force.

“Now that they’re under the cover of that jungle we can’t pick them up from space,” said the Liaison Officer, shaking his head.

“We can’t pick up their heat signatures?” asked the Admiral, looking from screen to the Marine Lt. Colonel, and then back again to the screen.

“No sir,” said the Marine, shaking his head.  “That’s Maurid jungle down there, and the vegetation is exothermic.  And the metallic composites in the leaves reflect back any of our active sensors.  So there’s no way we could look through their heat unless the enemy happens to build fires, or set up some heat generating equipment.”

And they’re not likely to do anything that stupid, thought the Admiral, glaring at the viewer.  Be nice if they would, but those Heretics are at least as smart as we are.  And they have to know more about that jungle than we do, since they built the base here.  The Admiral thought for a moment, not used to considerations of ground combat besides what he had read about.

“Tell the Major that we are sending another force under Colonel Quaid to the north of him in a blocking position,” said Gerasi, looking at a screen that displayed the area of operations on the surface.  “He is to drive the enemy into the Colonel’s force.”  There were some other dots indicating enemy that were out of the area, or at least where they were thought to be from their landing zones, and he knew that Midas’ ships were bombarding them from space.  He would worry about them later.

“Major Dumas acknowledges the order sir,” said the Liaison Officer.  “He is ordering his force to push into the jungle.”

“Tell him no hurry,” said the Admiral, smiling again.  “I want those Suryans, but not at the cost of more men.  He can take care.”

And I know how those Marine fire eaters will take that command, thought Gerasi, staring at the world they were approaching on the main viewer.  He will want to win glory, to steal it away from his superior officer, even at the risk of his men.  Well, let him.  My order makes my ass well and truly covered.

“She’s back,” yelled out the Tactical Officer, and the scene on the main viewer changed.  A small ship weaved and juked as it approached the planet.

“I thought we destroyed her,” yelled the Admiral, glaring at the ship.  “Open fire on her.  Get in touch with Midas.  Let him know he has company coming.”

“Aye, sir,” called out the Com Officer.

I thought we had your ass, thought Gerasi, ordering up a still on his repeater that showed the severity of the damage to the vessel.  But whether we get you in space or on the planet, we will have you.  That I swear by God Almighty.

*     *     *

“Motherfucker,” cursed Pandora Latham in a loud voice as she threw the robot arm across the bay.  “Son of a bitch.  I brought a hundred of you mother’s with me for a reason.  Because I needed a hundred of you.”

But there were only twenty three functional battlebots on the ship.  Of the rest, maybe thirty could be repaired, given the resources of a shop and someone who knew what they were doing, which didn’t include her.  And the rest were probably only good for scrap.  The bay itself was full of so many holes that even if she had a functional repair bot it would take days to seal it.  And the damage the lasers and particle beams had made to the robot bay was unnerving.  If that had been the bridge this here girl would have been cooked meat, she thought, a shudder passing through her body at the image.

Yes, she had been a spacer, and a damned good one.  But this had been her first ship to ship battle, and she didn’t like it, not one bit.  It was fun while she was the one doing the hitting.  Getting hit back was not fun, and she could almost sympathize with the Nation of Humanity crews she had shredded or vaporized.  Almost.

Well, I only got what I got, thought Pandi, looking at the bots.  “All of you’all get your gear and report to the stern cargo room,” she ordered, watching as all the multiple eyes on each bot lit up and turned her way.  That’s kind of creepy, she thought, backing out of the room and stepping out of the way.  The first robot walked past her, carrying a good weight of weapons and equipment on its back pouches, supplementing the ordnance it carried internally.  It scrambled down the hall on its six legs like some scuttling insect.  The second followed as the machines filed out of the room.  There were already a half dozen bots from another bay in that cargo hold, and these seventeen would complete her abbreviated platoon.

“What’s our progress, computer?” asked Pandi, switching over to its link in her mind.

“We are eight minutes nine seconds to atmosphere reentry,” answered the brain of the ship, its very human like voice sending feelings of regret through to the woman that it would not survive this part of the mission.  “Antimatter containment breach in eight minutes, thirty seconds estimate.”

“I thought we would have a couple of minutes after reentry,” she said, feeling her muscles tighten with tension.  “What happened?”

“Estimate revised during flight,” said the computer.  “Unfortunately, it may be revised again.”

“And how about our friends out there?  Have they noticed us?”

“So far there is no indication of that,” said the computer.

Pandora jogged toward the bridge, and the door opened as she approached.  She knew it was irrational, but she wanted to see the space around the planet with her own eyes.  That space and the planet were on the viewer as she came to a stop in the center of the room.  And she could see some of the Nation ships as well.  Five in orbit around the planet, and eight coming from the other side for an apparent orbital insertion.  She switched the view to tactical holo and noted the three other ships coming in from the opposite angle, still moving slow from the damage they had taken.

I really hurt you son of bitches, she thought with a smile.  And I ain’t about to stop being a thorn in your sides, if I can help it.

Pandora moved to the armory, where she let the automatic systems mount add ons to her suit, turning it from spaceship battle armor to a ground based combat system.  She grabbed some of the external weapons she needed, including one that would not need power packs or ammo, and headed back to the bridge.

“Six minutes to atmospheric insertion,” called out the computer.

“And you know what to do?”

“Of course,” said the machine, its tone never wavering.  “I am to take out as many of the Nation ships as possible.  Though from current configuration that will be only one of them.”

I wish I could have done better by you, Avenger, she thought, running a gloved hand over the panel.

“They see us,” said the computer, and the ship bucked slightly as it changed vectors in an evasive manner.  “Five minutes to insertion.”

“Do your best,” she said to the ship, starting for the door.  She entered the hall and jogged down to her room, feeling the floor vibrating under her feet from a hit.  Reaching her state room she grabbed a hard tube which contained a few things she wanted and attached it to her suit, then headed back to the armory.

“Four minutes to insertion,” called out the computer.  “We are out of sight from the larger Nation force, but will be coming into sight of the other in thirty seconds.  And there is fighting going on at the surface of the planet.”

“Show me,” ordered Pandi while she attached some more ordnance to her suit, then grabbed a combination rifle/grenade launcher and carried it from the armory.

A view of the planet appeared on her Heads Up Display, red and green dots on an area it was zooming in on.

“I want to get as close to that area as you can get me,” said Pandi, jogging toward the cargo bay.

“I can probably get you within a few kilometers of the landing field,” said the computer.  “If I am not shot down in the meantime.”

“Do the best you can,” said Pandi, stepping through the door into the cargo bay.  Twenty-three robotic heads turned a hundred and eighty-four visual receptors her way.

[OK, children] said Pandi over the secure mental com link to the robots.  [Let’s check you out right quick.]

Pandi projected herself into the link, looking through the eyes of first one robot, then another, until she had looked through ten of them and stopped, figuring that the rest of them were probably good as well.

“We’re taking fire,” said the computer, while the ship rocked and bucked around her.  “Orbital insertion in one minute.”

“How long to that containment breach?” asked Pandi, frowning as no answer came back.  “Computer, reply.”  But there still was none.

The ship started to rock and buck, growing heavier and heavier each moment, and Pandora knew that they had entered the atmosphere.  It felt hotter in the compartment, friction was growing on the outer skin while the ship went deeper into the denser part of the atmosphere.  And the holes in the hull couldn’t be helping.

“Computer, answer,” yelled Pandi over the link.  “I need to know what’s happening.

“Crap,” she cursed, not receiving an answer.  “Nothing to it but to go,” she said, pushing the manual cargo hatch release.  She frowned as nothing happened and pushed the panel again.  And then again, feeling panic begin to overcome her.

“Suit computer,” she called out, linking to the local incidence of the same avatar as the ship.

“Yes, mistress,” said the familiar voice.  It had the same personality as the ship computer, but much less computational and memory resources.  It was probably still better than most of the comps used by the foe.

“How long till containment breach?”

“I am unable to contact the ship,” said the comp in a neutral cheerful voice.  “So I cannot answer that question.”

“How far into the atmosphere are we?”

“I cannot answer that question.”

“How do I get this hatch open?”

“Working,” said the computer, leaving Pandi to contemplate the destruction of this ship and herself in it.

The ship shook again and started to turn over, flinging Pandora against the wall, while the robots dug in with their magnetic footing.  I’m gonna die, thought the woman from the past.  Forty-six thousand years after I should have.

Chapter Eight

I have never wanted to rule.  That has never been my goal.  My goal is to raise the numerous species of the Galaxy back to the level they were before the fall, that all may enjoy the fruits of a high technology civilization.  After that it is up to the sentient races of the Galaxy to form what government they wish, using peaceful means of discussion and discourse.  At that point I will step aside, and watch what happens.   Memoirs of Watcher.

“Stupid woman,” screamed Watcher after minutes of staring at the blank com panel.  He felt aggravated and afraid at the same time, both feelings he didn’t like when they came at him separately, and really was not fond of in combination.  “Stupid fucking woman.”

He wondered again why he ever gave his heart to a damned short lived normal.  Even if she lived to her full potential he would be left alone again in four or five centuries.  That sounded like a long time, but to one who had been alive for six thousand years, it was like a year to a normal.  And then she had to go and risk her neck like it was some kind of game.

Watcher grabbed a glass from the nearby table and flung it at the wall.  The glass was not glass, and the hardened plastic bounced from the almost indestructible wall, almost hitting one of the cats that was laying on the couch underneath where it struck.  The cat howled and took off, disappearing from the room, stirring up the others who also got away while the getting was good.

“What the hell was she thinking?  What in the hell was she thinking?”  And then Watcher caught himself, wondering what in the hell he was thinking.  I’m supposed to be the most intelligent being ever created, he thought, plopping down on the couch and burying his face in his hands.  And I let my emotions take control of me.  Why?  What the hell has she done to me, to make me so emotional?

Watcher huffed and looked up at the room, their living room, a minute part of this great station, but theirs.  She had picked out the pillows that sat on all the chairs.  The damned stampeding elephant symbol with the words Crimson Tide across the bottom, after something called the University of Alabama.  The whole room was full of her touches.  He could care less about decorating.  Functional furniture would have served just as well.  But it had made her happy, and that had made him happy.  A woman who on her best day was not his match in any way.

And she saved your sorry ass, thought the super being, seeing the image of her smiling face in his mind.  She saved civilization.  That’s what she did that your damned super ass couldn’t.  Just that little thing.

Watcher sat there for an hour, the time ticking off on his implant, thinking about the things they had been through.  She loves me, he thought, shaking his head in wonder.  She loves me despite my being the monster that parents tell their children about to make them be good.  The thing that destroyed civilization.  Whether they see my face or not, they are still talking about me.  And despite that she rescued me from my captor, and made me a real person.  And now I’ve lost her.

The super being hadn’t noticed when he had started crying.  But he noticed now that tears were dripping down his cheek.  He, a man who had never cried, through the times of loneliness, the times of heartache.  Through the times when he was scared and didn’t know what the hell was going on around him, through the blackouts which were the times Vengeance was operating.  And I love her more than anything I have ever loved before.  Even my own sorry ass.  And what am I doing about it?  Sitting here on this couch, feeling sorry for myself.

Something touched his hand, and Watcher looked down at the small gray tabby cat that was snuggling against him.  Bear.  One of her favorites, he thought, stroking the soft form and feeling the rumbling purr.  Hell, they’re all her favorites.  She never met a cat she didn’t like.  I’ve always liked them, from the time they were my only living companions.  But she adores them.  Watcher could feel the tears start up again, his feelings threatening to paralyze him once more.

No, dammit, he thought, picking up the cat, then getting up from the couch.  She’d tell me to get off my pity pot.  He laughed at that thought, which always brought up a humorous image of sitting on a toilet.

[Computer], he thought over his link.  [Open a pinhole in the space around Topaz IV.  I want to see what’s going on there.]

[Opening pinhole] replied the computer.  Moments later an image formed on the far wall as it turned into a viewer.  A pinhole was the best he could manage at this distance, without something like Pandora’s ship to use.  And without contact he couldn’t use the graviton generators of Avenger to open a traversable wormhole, only the pinholes that allowed him to monitor the space around the Supersystem.

“Son of bitches are still there,” he said as he watched the Nation ships moving toward the planet.

[I have located her ship] said the computer.  [On approach to the planet.]

“Why?” said Watcher under his breath.  “What is she thinking?”

The view shifted, coming closer to Avenger, and Watcher cringed as he saw the damage the ship had taken.

[The Nation ships see her and are opening fire] said the computer.  [Ship is evading.  Going into the atmosphere.]

The ship moved around the planet, going out of sight for a moment until another pinhole opened to give a view from the other hemisphere.  There were Nation ships here as well, a quintet in orbit.  They opened fire on the Avenger, and the ship ducked deeper into the atmosphere, trying to get away.  There was a particle beam strike on the dorsal section of the vessel, and Avenger flipped over and fell into the atmosphere, into the relative cover of a cloud bank.  But the Nation ships would still be able to see her on radar, and particle beams ripped through the clouds seeking the target.

And then the ship was climbing back above the clouds, accelerating at five hundred gravities and leaving a trail of fire behind her.  The Nation ships kept firing, and were now scoring hit after hit, shredding the forward section of the vessel.  Several beams punched through the hull at a location and angle that Watcher knew would intersect the bridge.  And still Avenger flew, straight at one of the Nation ships.

The explosion, what had to be a containment breach, caught Watcher by surprise, and he knew it had to be a shock to the enemy.  One instant the Avenger was there, the next it was a bright flash.  The nearest Nation ship took the brunt of the blast, heat and radiation and plasma flooding into it.  The forward section of the vessel glowed, gas spurted from hull breaches, and the nose was pushed up and away by the blast.

I’ve lost her, he thought, as the feeling of utter devastation swept over him.  His body felt weak from all the swift emotional changes he had gone through.  He shook with sorrow and anger, falling into the nearby couch, his hands going to his face.

[Many objects left the spaceship while it was under the clouds] said the computer.

[Show me] said Watcher as soon as what it had said penetrated his sorrow.

The viewer on the wall shifted and showed a slow motion shot of the ship through a temporary break in the clouds.  The shot only lasted an instant, but what looked like dozens of objects were falling from the ship.  They were not clear.  They could have been debris falling from the damaged vessel.  But Watcher decided to go the way of hope.  She got out, he thought.  His next thought was about what he should do.

[Are you receiving a signal from her tracker beacon?] Watcher asked.

[No, but she was likely to have turned it off with enemies in the region.]

Of course she would have, thought Watcher.  She’s not an idiot, despite what I thought in my recent tantrum.  They are more likely to pick her beacon up than I am, and she knows it.

[Where is the nearest gate from the station to that region?] he asked the computer, knowing that anything he opened in space would be observed and targeted by the enemy.  Also, it would take much too long to get a projector to that area.

A hemisphere projection of the planet appeared, and with it two blinking dots.  One he knew was the most likely location for Pandora Latham, based on where the ship released its objects.  The other was a pyramid that contained a wormhole gate to the planet.  Watcher looked at the dots and his heart fell again.  They were separated by four thousand kilometers of wilderness.  I haven’t even been off this station in thousands of years, and now I’m looking at traveling through thousands of kilometers of jungle, with hostiles everywhere.

Watcher felt the paralysis coming over him again.  Get off the damned pity pot, he thought, smacking a right fist into his left palm.  You were a soldier, so start acting like one.

[Here’s what we’re going to do] he sent to the computer, running down a plan in his head.

*     *     *

Pandora pounded on the button with her armored fist again and again, but nothing happened.  She was holding onto a wall grip as the ship spun over, then upright again.  Dammit.  That’s the reason they have a damned button here in the first place.  So’s I can open the damned thing if the auto system is down.  She hit it again, and felt the metal and plastic crack with her blow.  The hatch still didn’t open, and now she was sure the switch was broken as well.

I’m sorry darling, she thought, bringing up the image of Watcher in her mind.  He was a very striking man, muscular without being obscene about it, with exotic ears, eyes and that high domed forehead denoting extreme intelligence.  I should have listened to you.  But the fuckers needed a good ass kicking.  And I was the only one here to do it.

She checked her internal clock and was chilled by what it said.  Time was ticking down, thirty seconds to detonation when containment failed.  And it was only an estimate.  It could go in ten seconds, or ten minutes later.  She ran over a schematic of the ship in her head, seeing that there was a nearby hatch she might be able to use, if it was in working order.  And if the estimate was off in the proper direction.  With a decision made she started to leave the cargo compartment and go for the hatch.

[Wait] came the voice of the ship’s computer over her link.  [Just one second.]

[Not sure if I have one], she sent back, a feeling of hope entering her now that the main system was back in contact.  Then, with a grinding vibration, the cargo hatch began to retract.  There was open sky out there, and then the surface of the planet came into view as the ship continued to spin, then stabilized out of it.

[Out] called the computer.  [And take care.]

The first of the robots started the plunge to the surface, then more, as the hatch retracted beneath their feet.

[You take care too] sent Pandi as she jumped from her perch into the open hatch.  As soon as she was away from the ship the air current caught her and she was whipped away from the ship.  Using her suit grabbers she reoriented so she could see the small vessel climbing into the sky, and soon lost it in the clouds she was falling through.  You take care too, she thought with a snort.  You’re going to your death, and there is no taking care.  But what else was I supposed to say?

Pandora lay on her back in the air, falling toward the ground, allowing the gravity of the planet to get her out of the sky.  Her curiosity kept her looking up.  Because of that she saw the bright flash through the clouds, and knew that Avenger was gone.  You were a good ship.  I’m sorry I used you so badly.

Then there was no time for sentimentality over dead machines, and Pandora rolled over on the grabbers until she was facing the ground.  She looked around and saw that most of the robots were with her.  They had been programmed to follow her, to link up with her, and though she was not transmitting anything at this time, most had been able to lock on her visually and stay close.  She thought for a second about having wormhole com with her bots in the future.  Too late for it now, she thought, shaking her head.  She had just never thought of having a hundred robots linked in that tight, didn’t see the need for it.  Neither had her super-intelligent lover.  And if he hadn’t, why should she feel bad that she didn’t?

[What can you tell me about that jungle down there?] Pandora asked her suit computer as she fell, looking down into the orange and purple colored landscape.

[The foliage is native to Beta Mauradis Four], said the suit comp in her mind.  [The home world of the Maurids.]

[It looks exotically beautiful], she sent back to the comp, trying to relax in her suit as she cleaved the air.

[It is one of the ten deadliest jungles known], replied the comp.  [The Maurids are a very deadly species of sophont, having evolved in such an environment.]

[And what makes it so deadly?]

[A lethal combination of poisonous plants and insects, carnivorous vegetation and animals, and of course the Maurids.]

Pandi nodded her head as she thought about that.  The Maurids were bad mothers, of that she had no doubt.  She also didn’t doubt that she could take one in a fair fight even without her suit, while her armor gave her a great advantage over anything not possessing modern weapons.  Like I would get into a fair fight, she thought with a laugh.  Daddy may not have been a nice man, but he didn’t raise no fool.

Tapping into the computer data bank she looked over what it had on the Maurid ecosystem, and she whistled as the facts integrated with her memory.  Beta Mauradis Four had been in the evolution business for a billion years longer than Earth, or the great majority of other life bearing worlds.  That’s longer than vertebrate life existed on Earth, she thought.  Or infinitely longer than that six thousand year bullshit daddy used to preach.  Of course the Maurids, the intelligent life form of that planet, didn’t evolve into their present state until about two hundred thousand years ago, making them a younger sophont than the human race.  Good thing, or they might have discovered us, and that would not have been fun.  She shook her head at the thought.  How could it have been any worse than the damned aliens that did discover humanity?

Pandora checked her altitude and saw that she still had six thousand meters to fall.  She decided to start braking maneuvers at two thousand while she looked for a good clearing to set down in.  That thought was still going through her mind as one of the nearby robots flared with reflected light, its right mid-limb came off and tumbled away, and Pandora Latham realized that she was again under attack.

*     *     *

“What in the hell was that?” asked Fleet Admiral Nagara Krishnamurta, looking up to the canopy overhead as the deep rumbling boom came through.

“It’s a spaceship coming down into the atmosphere,” answered Lt. Commander Dasha Mandrake, walking beside the Admiral while she checked the feed from a satellite.  The Kingdom had seeded the space around the planet with hundreds of thousands of microsats that could act as com relays and surveillance platforms.  While one alone was not much, combined they were awesome, and there were too many for the Nation forces to track and destroy them all.

“One of theirs?” asked the Admiral, wiping sweat off his brow.

“No, sir,” answered the other officer.  “It looks like that ship from the Donut  is still with us.  She’s dropping into the clouds.  Still visible on infrared.  The enemy is trying their damndest to take her out.”

“Watch where you step, human,” came the heavily accented voice of one of the Maurid guides that were with them, residents of the mission they had established at the base.

Krishnamurta looked over at the alien who was standing there on all four limbs.  Its dog like muzzle was full of sharp teeth, and its coarse fur was a blend of orange and purple that camouflaged it perfectly in this jungle.  Intelligent eyes looked into the Admiral’s.  It was really only standing on three limbs realized the officer.  The fourth, the left rear limb, was off the ground, the paw opened from walking mode, fingers revealed and one pointing at a plant off to the side that stretched a tentacle like vine across the path.

“Sagara plant will wrap you up and snatch you away,” said the hissing voice of the creature.  “Step carefully over it.”

“Thank you,” said the Admiral, making sure he took a long step over the spine covered vine that belonged to one of the carnivorous plants of the nightmare jungle.  He saw some of the other troopers looking back at him with slight smiles on their faces.  They had been in this jungle for almost a year, working with the natives, and recognized the threat.  He and his spacers had not, and must depend on those who knew to guide them.

“Why not just blast the damned plant?’ asked Madrake, pointing the left arm of her armored suit at the large, evil looking vegetable about forty meters away through the jungle.  The laser tube that was built into that arm was pointed directly at the target life form.

“No,” said the Maurid, coming out of the four legged stance that was their primary locomotive orientation, standing to his full two meter height.  He put a hand on the arm of the suit and gently pushed down.  “You kill Sagara, and all motile vegetation in area goes wild.  And plant make trap for those who follow.”

Great idea, thought the Admiral, nodding his head and motioning for his officer to lower her weapon.  We have the natives on our side, in an environment they know well.  Might as well use that knowledge against our opponents, who wouldn’t pass the time of day with this alien, other than to shoot him down.

“Lead on,” he told the alien.  “We will demur to your wisdom on the matters of this jungle.”

The creature looked confused for a moment, then recognition came to his eyes.  He gave a human nod and went back to all fours, his forward hands folding back into paws.

“Keep the Marines and Spacers alert,” he said to Mandrake.

“I don’t trust these creatures,” said the Lt. Commander, nodding her helmeted head toward the Maurid that had leapt ahead.

“I do,” said the Admiral with a smile.  “After what the Nation of Humanity troops did back at the mission, they would be fools to have anything to do with those xenophobes.”

Mandrake looked at the Admiral, her visor up, a frown of disgust on her face.

She saw it as well as I, thought the Admiral, looking back into the jungle as he walked, making sure to look down every few moments to be sure of his footing.  The animals just walked into the native hospital and shot down females and babies.  And enough adults escaped to bring the news back to the ones in the jungle.  If the Nation Marines don’t watch out, they’ll have all the tribes in the area out for their scalps.

He looked ahead at the lithe looking alien walking the path ahead.  The sheathed form of a sword was strapped to his back, along with a blow gun, and the Admiral had seen bows and arrows among others of the native contingent.  I wouldn’t want them after me in this jungle, tech gap or not.

*     *     *

Major Dronning Dumas cursed again as he slammed his vibra blade through yet another tough vine in the endless series of such, after checking to be sure it wasn’t one of the carnivorous kind.  Of course, since they mostly mimicked ordinary non-motile vines, that was quite a task.  Why did it have to be a fucking jungle, he thought, then said a quick prayer for his use of a curse word.  Dumas was from a devout family, and believed that God listened to whatever man said, for good or ill.  But maybe he’ll forgive any of our transgressions this day, he thought, smiling at the vision of the dead Maurids in the hospital the Suryans had established.  We sent enough of the Satan Spawn back to their master to make God rejoice.

Just as that thought crossed his mind an arrow came flying out of the jungle to strike his armored chest.  It clattered into the air, and Dumas sent a stream of hypervelocity pellets into the jungle, seeking the projectile’s origin.  Other rifles joined in, and tree trunks splintered and then shattered under the assault of high velocity rounds.  Several trees fell over, and then the Marines were battling the omnipresent vines that were attached to carnivorous plants that grew on the great trees.

Dumas slashed with his vibro blade, cutting through vine after vine.  A scream alerted him to someone who was not having such luck, and the officer ran over to a trooper that was covered in the vines.  A couple of slashes and the trooper was free, blood streaming from areas that battle armor didn’t completely cover, the tough fabric of the joints.  The man thanked the major in a quiet voice, then fell over and lay still.  Dumas did not have to do much to prove to himself that the man was dead, poisoned by the damned vine that seemed to be as much animal as plant.

“Report in,” he called on his com while he stood over the dead man.

“First Platoon, A Company reporting in,” came the first voice over the com, followed by all the others counting down, until came one he didn’t want to hear.

“This is Fourth Platoon, E Company reporting,” came the tired sounding voice.  “I have six men down to an ambush.  Those damned demon dogs just move into place without a sound and strike.”

“Stay in place, Fourth Platoon, E Company,” called back the Major.  He closed the circuit and again stared into the jungle.  He had entered with two hundred and seventy-three men, leaving a fifty-two man detail at the base.  And he had already lost twenty-two men, without even contacting the Suryan bastards he had been sent in after.

“Report,” came the voice of the Admiral over the com.  Dumas cursed again, and prayed under his breath that Quaid would get in front of the enemy in quick time, so that the Major’s command would not have to keep trekking through this purple and orange hell.

Chapter Nine

The art of war is simple enough.  Find out where your enemy is.  Get at him as soon as you can.  Strike him as hard as you can, and keep moving on.   Ulysses S. Grant

Another laser beam came lancing into the sky, hitting a second robot, this time in the head area.  The cranium of the bot exploded into semi melted pieces.  The brain of the bot was not in that section, but much of its sensory systems were.

“Locate target and open fire,” yelled Pandora as soon as she activated her com.  She shut the unit down instantly and used her grabber units to move away from that location, using the other bots as cover, and hoping that she hadn’t attracted the attention of the ships in orbit.

Two of the robots had not come out of the ship on time, or so it seemed, or else had gotten lost somewhere up here in the atmosphere.  Her twenty-one remaining robots all targeted the area of ground that the fire was coming from, a hill thrusting up from the jungle, and opened fire with their own light amp and particle beam weapons.  A quartet of robots had racks of missiles on their backs, and each fired one at the target, the grabber powered weapons taking off in a streak of light and accelerating into the hill.

The hill exploded in a cloud of dirt and debris as the missiles hit, while the lasers and particle beams played over the obscuring dust.  A couple of beams came up, tracked on Pandora’s HUD display, and then the fire stopped.  Moments later her bots ceased fire, and the rest of the fall was uneventful, though Pandora kept waiting for that battleship class laser to come knifing out of the sky.

At three thousand meters above the jungle she started her deceleration, pulling multiple Gees that were absorbed by her suit’s inertial compensators.  To her it felt as if she were floating out of the sky.  She turned her vision back to the hilltop that had housed the enemy and was gratified to see several bodies lying out in the open.  Whoever else had been up there had retreated back under cover.  Now she only had to hope that they would stay under cover until she made it down.

Pandora looked down and saw a small break in the canopy.  She steered her suit for that opening and breathed a sigh of relief as the jungle closed in around her.  Looking up she could see several of the robots following her down, and hoped the rest would come down nearby.  Looking back down she aimed for an open spot between a trio of forest giants.  The suit touched down softly, and she ordered her visor up through internal link.

The air was a cloying mixture of sweet and sickly odors.  Pandora has spent some time among the jungle habitats of the station, exploring the strange flora and fauna.  But they had been nothing like this steamy cauldron of life.  Strange sounds came from every direction, chirps and squeaks, and screeching yells.  If not for her armor she would have been very frightened.  With it she was sure she would be the match for any plant of animal in this forest.  Against intelligent creatures with high tech weapons it might be a different story.

Pandora sent out a low power signal, orientating all the robots on her.  They returned the signal, and she knew where all twenty-one of the robots were and their operational status.  The two damaged in the attack while they were falling were the only ones not at full capacity, and they were still usable combat machines.  Her next signal released masses of miniature machines from the robots.  They swarmed out in their hundreds of thousands, spreading kilometers in every direction.  The machines, pizzoelectric micrometer robots, found perches on tree branches and leaves.  Within ten minutes they had formed a ten square kilometer communication and surveillance network that continued to spread.  Their signal transmission would be low, and would not allow anyone looking down on the jungle to get an exact fix on Pandora or her robots.

Now to figure out how to hit the enemy, thought Pandora, looking at the area through her heads up display.  She was getting indications of bodies of people moving to the north of her position.  In three distinct groups.  And from the way they were moving she had no trouble working out what was going on.  One group was trying to get away, and was being herded into the group that was heading toward them from ahead.  In fact, even while she was observing one of the bodies stopped and went to ground.  An ambush, she thought, a tight smile on her face.  It never entered her mind to run and hide herself.  Here was the enemy, and she thought of the admonition of Nathan Bedford Forest, get there first with the most.  She didn’t have the most, but she did have considerable firepower at her disposal.  And another girlhood favorite, Stonewall Jackson, would have advocated a flank attack.

[Let’s get a move on] she sent to her robots, while plotting where she wanted to go, and what she wanted to do when she got there.

*     *     *

“Assemble it there,” ordered Watcher, pointing to the central flat area of the large room.  The interior of the pyramid smelled musty, as befit a structure that had probably not been open to the air for millennia.  The wormhole portal shimmered against the wall of the room, robots stepping through at intervals, bringing loads of equipment with them.  An object was being assembled in the center of the room, and the robots that had come through were busy building more of the vehicles to either side.

Watcher looked around the room while the robots worked.  He felt strange being here, he who had not been off the Donut for thousands of years, save the few excursions he had made into space.  One of those excursions had been to rescue the woman he was determined to save again.

The superman sent a signal over his link to the computer that was housed in this step pyramid that had once been the transportation nexus of this world.  It took a moment to go through authentication, but once the computer recognized his authority it was open to all commands.  He sent an opening command to the machine, his eyes set on a small personal door that the schematic said went into the world outside.  The metallic door made some noises, started to move, then stopped.  It did this several times before it finally slid open, and the light of day came through the aperture.

Watcher lowered the visor on his armor, caution being a habit with him.  He hadn’t gotten to such an age without knowing when to be careful, to not take chances.  Some were unavoidable, like rescuing the woman he loved.  Some, like making sure he was covered from head to toe before entering a hostile environment, were not.

The jungle surrounding the pyramid was beautiful, a riot of orange and purple.  It was from the Maurid home world, transplanted here to make this their own.  He knew from the data banks that it was once a populated world with only half of the surface going to natural habitat.  There had been billions of Maurids and other sentients living on this planet at that time.  Now it was all natural, thanks to Vengeance and the murderous station computer, the dwelling place of plants, animals and primitive Maurids.  And deadly to any unprotected being that didn’t know its perils.  That didn’t include Watcher, who had memorized this ecosystem until he could name all of the major players, and how they could efficiently kill the unwary human.

Watcher looked down the steps, now covered in the remains of rotten vegetation, and layered over by vines and roots.  None had penetrated the material of the pyramid.  That would have been impossible without something more robust than mere plants.  In a million years this pyramid, built with the technology of the Ancestors, would still be standing, and a quick lasering would reveal a structure as new as the day it was made.  The structures that were wormhole hubs had been made to be impenetrable to anything but negative matter, antimatter, and kinetic weapons in the gigaton range, though smaller weapons might cause some surface damage.

There were several depressions in the jungle, seen by the way the tops of the trees were lower than those a kilometer in each direction.  Most eyes would have missed the difference, but not those of Watcher.  They were craters, the remains of kinetic weapons that had been thrown at the pyramid, and had been deflected at the last moment by the structure’s defensive systems.  Weapons that I caused to fall, thought Watcher with regret.  There was so much he needed to make amends for, and he only hoped that he would live long enough to do so.  But can I live a million years? he thought, shaking his head sadly.  He was said to be immortal, but didn’t know if that was really truth, or if he was just extremely long lived.  And he was sure he could be killed, no matter his life span.

I don’t have time for this right now, he thought, taking one last look at the jungle.  Time to get off the pity pot.  He made his way over to where he knew the vehicle hatch was located, which area was covered with vines, and even the large roots of a couple of trees that were precariously perched on the soil that had built up on the larger steps of the pyramid.  The hatch would not be useable as long as that buildup was in the way, so the first order of business was to clear it.

Watcher reached over his shoulder and pulled the particle beam weapon from its sheath.  He flipped the safety engaging the weapon, which was shaped like an oversized rifle, a very oversized rifle, with multiple barrels like a Gatling gun at the business end.  There was no conduit to the weapon, no connection to the backpack which contained an internal accelerator whose only purpose was to accept particles from its wormhole portal, then send it to the weapon through another link.  The main accelerator was back on the Donut, where it could build up a beam to near light speed if such was needed.  Watcher locked his suit arms into place and set his grabber units to compensate for the recoil.  He aimed at the target after doing a quick computation of how long he needed to stay on each area, then pulled the trigger.

The suit bucked back as the gun ejected micrograms per second at point five c.  It pointed at the target area as an angry red line, the result of friction with the air, sounding like a mass of hostile bees on speed.  Where the beam touched the vegetation turned to ash and the soil blew into the air.  The hatch was not visible as it was cleared, sealed as it was into the building.  But Watcher’s HUD showed him the outline of the hatch, and he sprayed the particle beam back and forth to clear it like a garden hose cutting through dirt.

The weapon stayed cool in his gauntleted hands, another wormhole siphoning the heat off to a sink within the station.  The barrels rotated every couple of seconds, bringing a new conduit into line while the last one cooled.  Watcher couldn’t wait to try the weapon out on those who menaced Pandora.  He hated that there was still a bit of Vengeance inside him, but was coming to accept that in this Universe some bloodthirstiness was useful, for certain situations.  And this was one of those.

With a last sweep of the weapon he cleared the door.  A mental command to the local computer and the door started to rise, slowly at first, then more quickly as hinges and motors that had not been used in millennia moved into action.  Soon it was raised up to the sky, revealing an entry room with a dusty floor, but no evidence of intrusion by the jungle.

The room within was still empty, and Watcher ordered the opening of the door that led further into the interior.  It slid aside, revealing the gate room, and the robots that were finishing up the assembly of a quintet of hover vehicles.

These were like the tanks of old, able to fly at low altitude, but most often used to hover low over the ground.  Each vehicle was five meters long by three wide, with a small turret on the top which contained a particle beam weapon and missile launchers along the side.  [Are we ready?] he sent to his command robot.

[In approximately five more minutes] said that robot, rearing to its full Maurid imitating height, wielding a nano-binder over the hull of the first machine.

Watcher nodded his head and turned away, walking back to the outside and scanning the jungle with his visually enhanced visor.  He took a close look at the trees, noting the spaces between them, and the way the upper canopy arched over that open area below.  Shouldn’t be a problem, he thought, then amended that to it surely will be some kind of problem I can’t yet foresee.  He ticked off the minutes in his head, then turned to go back to the vehicles, which now hovered a few centimeters over the surface of the floor.  Maurid shaped robots were coming out of the wormhole with bundles and boxes that they were loading into the vehicles.  The boxes stowed away, they next started strapping things to the outside, until the hover tanks resembled gypsy caravans from many millennia past.  There were other people where he was going, and not all were enemies.  And properly armed allies were always a good thing.

[All is ready, Watcher] came the transmission from the prime robot.

[Then let us leave] said the one organic unit of the group.  He climbed into the control compartment of the third vehicle, while the sixty Maurid shaped combat robots distributed themselves around the small convoy.  With a command the vehicles left the pyramid, the outer door closing behind them.  Down the slope of the pyramid they went, then under the canopy of the trees.

Watcher had considered going the fast way, with aircraft that could get him to the target area in hours instead of days.  But with the enemy controlling the orbitals he had decided against that route, which may have ended up with his craft splashing down in the jungle in molten pieces.  Better late than never, he thought, looking out the windows at the passing jungle.  She’s resourceful.  Now just let her keep a low profile, and not do anything too stupid.  He shook his head at that thought, knowing that she attracted trouble like the carnivorous flowers of this jungle attracted prey.

*      *      *

“We are in standard orbit, Admiral,” said Captain Lashan over the com.

“Very good,” replied Admiral Miklas Gerasi, getting up from his chair and walking from his day cabin office.

The doors to the bridge opened before him, and he strode in as everyone jumped to attention, until he waved them back to their seats.

The orange tinted planet rotated below, and side screens showed the rest of the force clustered around the flagship.  Including the force of Commodore Valaris Midas.

“Get Midas’ ship on the com,” ordered the Admiral, walking to his seat and plopping down.  “I would like to talk to the Commodore.”  It took a few moments to connect, and then the troubled face of the Commodore appeared on Gerasi’s repeater screen.

“What can I do for you, Admiral?” asked the officer in a tired voice.

“First off, I want to tell you what a great job you did out there,” said Gerasi with a smile.  “You really caught the bastards off guard.”

“And that little bastard almost did me in,” said the Commodore, the frown deepening on his face.

“That was also a brilliant piece of work,” said the beaming Admiral.  “You should be proud of yourself.”

“I lost half my command,” said the Commodore, and Gerasi raised a hand to stop him from continuing.

“I wasn’t your command when the damned ship started its attack,” said Gerasi, pointing a finger at the screen.  “And don’t let me hear you taking the blame for it.  You got your shit together after the attacker wiped out the flag, and gave him all she could handle.  So you stand proud, Commodore.”

“Yes, sir,” said the Commodore, his posture straightening and his face perking up.

“How are things going on the surface, Valaris?” asked the Admiral, steepling his fingers and looking over them.

“We have them trapped,” said the Commodore, a look of triumph on his face.  “I don’t think they’re going to get out of this with intact skins.”

“I would like some prisoners,” said the Admiral, looking over at another screen that showed the still spreading debris of the fort that had once occupied an orbit around the world.

“We’ll get you some,” said the Commodore, looking fiercely into the screen.

“So you don’t need any of my Marines?” asked the Admiral, looking over at his Marine Liaison Officer, who looked back with puppy dog tenseness.  “I have over a thousand of them just raring to go.”

“I’ll let you know, Admiral,” said the Commodore with a nod.  “But right now it looks like we’ve got it under control.”

“OK.  Well, keep me informed.  Gerasi out.”

The screen went blank, and the Admiral stared at the star field that took its place for a moment.  Somewhere in that field lay the enormous station that orbited the black hole.  He shuddered for a moment as he remembered the beating his command had taken there, the last time he was in this region of space.  We’ll get you eventually, you bastard, thought the Admiral, visualizing the big brained Abomination who had almost thwarted his success.  Once we capture your agent here, and learn how to go through the back door, you will be mine.

*     *     *

“Where in the hell did they all come from?” yelled a trooper to the front.

The hell if I know, thought Fleet Admiral Nagara Krishnamurta, keeping himself as low to the ground as he could manage, while cringing at the crack of high speed projectiles going overhead.  And why didn’t our native guides smell them out before they hit?

A tree trunk about twenty meters away exploded, dropping the rest of the tree until it was caught up in the canopy foliage and hung there.  The Admiral recognized the signature strike of a heavy laser.  Unfortunately, the laser swung over and hit one of the Sagara plants that sat near a small glade.  The plant threw off steam, then went up in a blast of vegetable matter.  The vines radiating from the plant spasmed for a moment, and then lay still.

The same could not be said of the dozens of other Sagaras in the area.  Moments after their brother was killed they went wild, flinging barbed vines every which way.  For a moment the battle against their fellow man was forgotten, as both sides fired at the killer vegetables that were randomly striking at both sides.  Most of the combatants had on armor, but there were still gaps that could be exploited, and several armored Marines went down to the venomous poison of the plants’ spines.  Those that fell were soon surrounded by more vines, seeking to puncture flesh and inject digestive enzymes into their prey.

Unfortunately for the humans, Maurid life was built on a similar protein architecture.  Humans had some trouble digesting Maurid life, but the alien life had no trouble processing human proteins.  Those punctured would turn into a soup of partially digested proteins underneath their skin, soon to be sucked up by the greedy plants.  Unfortunately for the plants, they would not be around to enjoy the bounty, as human weapons from both sides blotted them from existence.

A vine swung at the Admiral, attracted by something, he was never sure what.  Krishnamurta rolled away, sure that any moment he would feel the sting through his uniform that presaged death.  He brought his laser pistol to bear, almost overcompensating in the adrenaline rush.  A quick squeeze of the trigger cut the vine in half, the far end flying off from the force of its strike, the near falling to the ground just short of the human and flopping around.

The Admiral watched the fight switch back to a shooting match between the two sides, but there were still some terrifying moments as the jungle joined in.  He saw a Nation Marine come out of cover to move to a new position, a couple of projectiles bouncing from his armor.  Just before the Marine got to the cover he was looking for the ground hinged up and a large arthropod reared from the revealed pit, its claws grabbing the man and pulling him back into the trap it had set.  In an instant it was gone, the cover back in place so quickly that the Admiral almost doubted his own eyes.  The Marine of course was in battle armor, but the Admiral had seen those big claws bending the part of the suit it gripped.  And the enemy Marine did not come out of the hole, a sign that he was the loser in the little drama of predator and prey.

“Shit, get them off me,” yelled another Spacer, this one also without battle armor.  The man screamed at the top of his lungs and rolled around, a black mass of creatures covering him.  They looked like roaches more than anything else the Admiral had ever seen, and they were stripping the flesh from the man as he watched.

Krishnamurta did the most merciful thing he could think of, putting a laser shot into the man’s forehead and ending the struggle.  He frantically looked around to make sure none of the insects were on him, then jumped to his feet and ran away from the front line to find some safer cover, if any really existed.

“We have contact to the rear,” called out a voice over the command circuit, just before more hypervelocity rounds came ripping through the jungle.

And now we are well and truly fucked, thought the Admiral as he fell to the ground, getting away from the rounds he knew were seeking his life more important than avoiding the insects that might or might not be there.

The trap was closed, and his force was in a box he couldn’t see a way out of.  And I’ll die before I allow those bastards to take me prisoner, he thought, checking his pistol and seeing that he still had half of its charge remaining.  Everyone knew how the Nation treated prisoners.  If you weren’t of their religion they believed you were headed for Hell.  And they saw it as their job to make sure you got there quickly.  But not before they got what information you had, by whatever means possible.  The Admiral checked his belt to make sure he had another power pack for the pistol, then made a mental note to make sure he had enough of a charge at the end to destroy his brain.  Suicide might be a sin, but he thought the Gods would forgive him for removing the services of the information he carried from the enemy.

Chapter Ten

In every battle there comes a time when both sides consider themselves beaten, then he who continues the attack wins.   Ulysses S. Grant

The Nation of Humanity forces had reverse engineered the technology they had stolen from the Donut, advancing their own tech almost a thousand years in some areas.  Pandora Latham was using the end tech of the New Terran Empire, the civilization that had more or less owned the Galaxy before its fall.  It was the culmination of thirty thousand years of military technology, the tech that had won countless wars before the Galaxy settled into a Pax.  And then it had been modified by the most intelligent being that had ever lived.

She was still heavily outnumbered by the force she was about to attack.  Her robots’ motion sensors and the micro-pizzos had determined from one direction there were almost four hundred armored Marines attacking a hundred and forty some odd Suryans, not all of whom were armored, while another two hundred of that enemy closed up from the rear.  It was a classic ambush, and something she planned to counter with another classic maneuver.

She checked her HUD one more time and grunted in satisfaction.  All of the robots were in position, and the enemy didn’t seem to have a clue that they were there, thanks to their stealth systems.  Once she started the attack they would have some idea, and she didn’t expect to come out of this unscathed.  But as long as the brains of the operation, herself, came through, she was alright with that.

I just hope they don’t bring the hammer from space, she thought, looking up at the canopy overhead.  There was only one reason she could think that they hadn’t done that already.  Prisoners.  They wanted intelligence, and live captives could give it, while dead enemies could not.  She had felt the rumbling of other strikes, and knew that the Nation ships had hit other groups of Suryans.  She just hoped that they didn’t hit this one once their own plan went to Hell.

[OK] she ordered over the command circuit.  [Commence operations].

The acknowledgements came back from the robots immediately.  Those with targets opened fire with every antipersonnel weapon they could bring to bear, laser and particle beam rifles, internal rail guns, and the light amp weapons built into their sensory heads.  Microgrenades flew out to sparkle in small explosions, while the heavy weapons bots fired low angle mortars into known enemy positions.

Pandora herself ran forward with the twelve robots that formed the striking wave.  She was heavily outnumbered by the enemy, but she had the firepower advantage along her point of attack, the Schwerpunkt, as the old Germans had called it.  Overall power didn’t matter as much as what was at the point of decision.  And she was going to use her advantage to roll up the enemy flank and send him running, or let him die in place if he so decided.

The woman sighted in her weapon on a Nation Marine who was trying to bring a heavy laser to bear on her.  Her particle beam hit weapon and man at the same moment.  The heavy laser flared, metal and plastics turned molten, and the weapon broke in half.  High speed protons hit the chest of the man and his armor immediately glowed red.  The beam ate through armor and into flesh beneath, and the man slumped down over the remains of his weapon while the last splash of particles ripped a gouge in his helmet.

A pellet hit her helmet as she was moving forward, bouncing off as it rang the metal.  Pandi cursed under her breath, and turned toward the man who was now firing rapidly from his high velocity weapon.  It was not enough to penetrate her armor, though she still cringed a bit when more rounds bounced from her chest and shoulder.  A quick shot with her weapon and the Marine fell to the ground with a smoking hole in his armor.  She knew that inside that shell it would be worse, with cooked meat and ash occupying most of his organic form.

A vine lashed across her armor as she took another step forward.  She ducked as it came back, seeking out whatever it was that was striking at her, and locating a strange looking plant that was sending a half dozen more vines her way.  A blast of particles and the plant was mulch, and she turned her attention back to enemies that might actually be able to hurt her.  She found some immediately by the flash of microgrenades that burst around her.

They’re trying to make me go deaf, she thought as a dozen of the small explosives went off without further effect on her suit.  Of course, her nanites could repair that damage within minutes, if her suit let through enough noise to actually cause nerve damage.  Nothing they had would save the three men she cut down with high velocity protons that turned from kinetic energy into killing heat.  She leapt over the armored bodies that poured smoke from the holes and gashes she had opened in them, and continued on in a run.

She saw another position just ahead, a pair of soldiers lying behind a log and firing their mag rail rifles at something she couldn’t see.  Her HUD brought up the view of the enemy’s targets, a pair of Suryans, one in light naval armor, the other in uniform.  Not really sporting, she thought, turning her attention back to the heavily armored Marines.  She rippled off a dozen mini-grenades over the two men, watching the small flashes with satisfaction.  The grenades were dual purpose, antipersonnel and antiarmor.  As they hit they sent a series of miniature flechettes through the armor of the Marines and into their bodies, ripping internal systems apart.  Both men bled out before they could do more than look her way.

Her HUD showed that she was getting a little ahead of her bots.  Twenty were still in the fight, and she wondered what might have happened to the one missing.  That would wait.  And she would wait for the rest to catch up with her.  Her body wanted to charge in, deal death, and get this distasteful slaughter over with.  Her mind overruled, telling her the smart thing to do was wait until her flanks were guarded.  That decision was still in her mind when the hypervelocity missile came at her like a streak of light.

*     *     *

Colonel Makari Quaid of the Nation of Humanity Marines looked triumphantly at the Commodore who commanded the ships his troops came from.  “We have them trapped, sir,” he said in a prideful voice.  “There’s no way the rats are going to escape this trap.”

“Remember, Colonel,” said Commodore Valaris Midas over the com screen.  “We need prisoners.  The Admiral needs to know what the future plans of these heretics are, so we can prepare for their return.”

“I understand, sir,” said the Colonel with a smile.  “We will…”

“What the hell is that,” came a voice over the CinC circuit.

“Excuse me, Commodore,” said the Colonel, a frown stealing over his face.  “I’ll get back with you ASAP.”

The screen went blank.  They were involved in a tactical situation, with no time for niceties.  “What’s going on?” the Colonel asked into the link, seeing the trouble spot on his HUD, where several green dots were blinking red, then going out.  Never a good sign in a combat zone, and typically signifying troops dying.

“They came out of nowhere, sir,” said a voice as a face appeared on the HUD.  The name below the face said Lieutenant Burnside, who Quaid recalled was a platoon leader in D company.  “They hit us hard before we even knew they were there.”

“Who are they, Lieutenant?” said the Colonel, trying to will his own voice to stay calm.  “And what are you doing about they?”

The image of a six limbed robot came on the screen, running forward on four limbs while it fired a combination rifle/grenade launcher carried in the two forelimbs.  A red beam stabbed out of the weapon, and the picture went dead, and Quaid knew that the trooper who had sent that image went dead with it.

A particle beam, thought the Colonel, carried by a robot that is far beyond anything we can make.  So they came here after all.

“That’s all I have right now, sir” said the officer, his voice still on the edge of panic.  “I sent Sergeant Kleffa with a squad to try and flank the bastards, but he and his men went off the circuit, and I can’t get them back.”

“I’m sending another platoon to reinforce you,” said the Colonel, linking into another unit and sending them their orders.  “Don’t let them through.”

“Yes, sir,” said the young man, his eyes wide.  “We’ll hold…”

The link went dead, and the Colonel was damned sure that the officer was no longer among the living.  He said a quick prayer for the officer and his men, that they might dwell with God.  And then he started making his tactical shifts, hoping that he could stop the flanking attack while keeping up the pressure on the Suryans.

*     *     *

The fire to front seemed to slacken for a moment, intensified, then fell precipitously.  “What’s going on, Mandrake?” questioned the Admiral over the CinC circuit.

“We don’t know yet, Admiral,” said the woman, her voice high with tension and adrenaline.  “But it sounds like someone has attacked the Nation’s blocking force we ran into.”

The Admiral digested that for a moment, coming to a decision in an instant.  “Attack them,” he ordered, knowing that he was taking a risk.

“But sir,” said Mandrake, letting out a hissing breath.  “We don’t know who these newcomers are.”

“Don’t think about it, Commander,” said the Fleet Admiral, pushing his best command voice through the com.  “Don’t think about it.  Just attack.  We may never have a better chance.”

“Aye aye, sir,” replied the officer.  “All troops on the northern front.  Move forward, full attack.”

“And tell them to be careful to not shoot at our new friends,” cautioned the Admiral.  “We may need their aid after this firefight.”

“But, we don’t even know what they look like,” answered the Commander, exasperation in her voice.

“They probably don’t look like the Marines or Spacers from the Nation of Humanity,” said the Admiral, a thin smile on his face.  “I’ll have the hide of anyone who attacks them.”

“Yes sir,” said the officer, resignation in her voice this time.  “We’ll attack all out, but commit no blue on blue incidents against a blue we can’t recognize.”

“Good woman,” said the Admiral with a smile.  “You’ll go far.”  As long as any of us survive to go far in this cluster.

*     *     *

The hyper-v came in low and fast.  Pandora barely had time to react to the alarm from her suit.  The suit itself knew what to do, and it did it, rocketing her upward at its maximum velocity, ten gees above the capacity of its inertial compensators.  The missile curved up to follow, but its speed worked against it and it flew by meters off target.  The suit stopped and automatically fired a pair of seeker rockets from her backpack sheath.  The rockets, not as fast as the hyper-v, sped to the missile’s point of origin and blasted the area, killing the gunner and wounding the assistant.

Pandi’s consciousness came back quickly, the result of training, vascular augmentation and nanites.  She realized immediately that she was too much of a target hanging up here in the air.  She cursed under her breath as she fired a particle beam at the one survivor of the team, then dropped quickly back to the ground.  She flew along the ground to the position the rocket had come from, keeping her awareness spread out to cover the area around her, while ordering her robots to make haste and come up on her flanks.

She brought the suit to a touchdown as she came to the position.  The launcher was lying just out of reach of the dead gunner, and Pandora bent to pick it up, looking at the missile that was still in one of the four tubes of the weapon.  She realized the gunner must have fired the other two off at the Suryans, before she came within sight.  She also made a mental note to look out for these things, which could splatter her through her armor.

Pandora pulled the remaining missile from the tube, her eyes widening as she looked at the half meter long cylinder with three small grabber units front and rear.  This is technology they stole, she thought, turning the missile over in her hands.  We didn’t even give grabber tech to the Suryans.  If they use this tech on their ships, the Suryans are well and truly fucked.

She threw the missile to the ground, not really knowing what else to do with it.  By that time her bots were up with her on her flanks.  She checked them on the HUD and cursed again as she noted there were only sixteen of them, meaning she had lost five just rolling up a quarter of the enemy’s line.  No help for it.  Just have to keep going until it’s done, or I am.

[Move out] she sent over the link, then waited a moment for the robots to precede her.  I think I need to play General Eisenhower from here on, she thought.  General Patton is going to get me killed, and then where’s the Army.  Moments later weapons fire filled the jungle as she continued to roll up the flanks.

*     *     *

“Cease fire,” yelled Lt Commander Dasha Mandrake, grimacing as she watched a squad of her troops blasts limbs off of a battlebot that was definitely not of Nation construction.  The xenophobes would only make humanoid robots, believing that only the form God gave them was worthy of reproduction.  These were much more utilitarian, and looked to be of much more sophisticated construction.  Still, a half hundred hits by kinetic rounds, followed by a couple of heavy laser beams, and even such a war machine would go down.

Mandrake froze in place as another machine came bounding around a tree.  She made a hand motion to one of the Marines who had raised a weapon to track this bot.  “Don’t shoot, dammit.  Do you want to start a war against our allies?”  The Marine lowered his weapon, but she could tell by body language that everyone in the squad was afraid.

The robot looked them over, then looked down at its dead brother, then back at the humans.  Mandrake could not tell what it was thinking behind those dozen eyes on its head.  She just hoped it wasn’t any kind of emotion.

“I’m on your side, dammit,” came the voice of a human female from the machine, accented in a way the commander had never before heard.  But she had heard of that female, the one who was consort to the being that ran the space station around the black hole.  The commander felt the thrill of almost religious awe.  This was the stuff of legends, like the demigods of the past.

“I’m sorry,” she told the robot, and through it the woman, Pandora Latham.  “We’re all a little trigger happy in the middle of a firefight.”

“Well, get trigger happy with the other fellas,” said that accented voice, the head of the robot rotating around.  “If you would, take up a flank position on this robot and follow us.  We could use the firepower, and you’all might be able to keep you and yours from shooting up any more of my machines.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said the Commander, turning to the rest of the squad that was with her.  “You heard the robot, I mean lady.  Let’s help her roll up these bastards.”

The squad cheered, then fell in to the right of the robot in a spread combat formation.  And when the machine went forward, so did they.

*     *     *

“What the hell is going on?” yelled Colonel Makari Quaid into the com.  Squad after squad was dropping off the net, while the cursed Suryans were also launching an attack on his already preoccupied units.  He had tried to get Major Dumas to attack through the enemy, but it seemed that the bastards had figured that one was coming, and had reinforced their platoon facing the Major’s force.

Now the crackling of small arms fire and explosions were coming closer.  Along with a sound like a million angry bees that ripped for a second or two before stopping.

“Steady men,” said the Colonel over the com, holding his own weapon up, trying to prepare to get a sight picture on the first of the enemy that showed themselves.

Unfortunately those enemy were in the trees, moving from trunk to trunk.  The first awareness the Nation forces had of them was when they opened fire.  There were still some lucky return hits that took out a couple of the bots.  But the Colonel was not one of the lucky ones.  He saw the young woman before she saw him, and his carbine hit her a dozen times in a shower of sparks.  Then that angry bee sound blotted out everything else.  The Colonel didn’t hear it.  The particle beam traveled much faster than sound, and his armored suit was already a can containing a hundred kilos of cooked meat and ash before their waves reached him.

*     *     *

“Good to see you again, Admiral,” said Pandora, the visor back and helmet retracted on her armor.

“And we’re very glad to see you, young lady,” said the Admiral, taking her armored hands in his.  The Admiral looked at the young woman and wished that he were younger, though thinking of her consort made him glad that he wasn’t a challenge to Watcher.  “What brought you to our rescue?”

“Just wanted to send some of those fanatical bastards to hell,” said Pandi, a smile on her face.

I wish she didn’t have to speak in such a profane manner, thought the Admiral, returning the smile.  He knew that Watcher and his lovely consort didn’t have the religious views of his people, that they didn’t aid Surya because of any love of their philosophy, religion or culture.  In fact, they only aided Surya at all because they were the enemies of the madmen of the Nation.  That was their common ground, and he would do nothing that would jeopardize that alliance, even if it meant risking the souls of those two.  “We’re glad to have you here,” said the Admiral, sincerely meaning every word.  “You saved every man and woman here.”

“Wish I could have saved more,” said the woman, looking down to the ground and grinding one foot back and forth.  “I didn’t think those fanatics would think so well under pressure.”

“You can’t expect your opponents to act like total idiots,” said the Admiral, shaking his head.  “You can hope, but you can’t expect.  They have their own plans, which normally don’t include sticking their heads beneath the ax.”

The ground rumbled underfoot, and the Admiral looked up at the canopy and narrowed his eyes.

“That what I think it is?” asked Pandora, squinting her eyes as she looked up at the shaking trees and falling leaves.

“Kinetic strikes,” said the Admiral, nodding his head.  “Since we broke contact with their ground forces they feel free to hit us with the hammer.  I suggest we get under cover, fast.”

“You have a place?” asked Latham, her deep blue eyes looking into the officer’s.

“There’s a series of deep caverns very near to here,” said the small man, looking up the path.  “The locals showed them to us, and we cleared out the dangers.”

“How deep?” asked Pandi, her eyes narrowing.

“They go at least a kilometer into the rock,” said the admiral.  “With granite mountains overhead.  And there are dozens of possible exits, so I doubt we will be trapped by a landslide.”  The Admiral looked around and noticed that several of the Maurid locals were back, after having disappeared during the firefight.  Can’t blame them for that, he thought.  Flesh and primitive weapons had no place in a modern battle.  But he also made a note to keep an eye on them in the future.

“Well, lead on McDuff,” said Pandora, gesturing with a hard gauntleted hand toward the path.  “Before we catch a random rock from the sky.”

Krishnamurta nodded his head and smiled as he led the young woman to the caves, nervously looking upward at each rumble.  That was when the earth jumped beneath his feet sending him to the ground.  There was a bright flash through the forest, and the admiral cried out, just before strong hands grabbed him and arrested his fall.

“Big kinetic strike there,” said Pandora Latham, her voice sounding slightly more robotic now that her helmet had automatically extended and covered her head.  “Hope we don’t have too many like that.”

“We had better move,” said the Admiral, looking with fear filled eyes in the direction that the flash had come from.  A moment later a hot wind blew through the trees, whipping branches and leaves into a frenzy.

“Agreed,” said the woman, picking the Admiral up under the armpits and lifting from the ground.  She sped away down the path, passing frightened men, women and Maurids who were making their way to safety as fast as they could.

Chapter Eleven

Get there first with the most.   Nathan Bedford Forrest

Admiral Miklas Gerasi, Nation of Humanity, sat on the bridge of the Orca as the flagship orbited around the Maurid planet.  He had to admit that it was beautiful, with its orange coloration combined with blue seas and white clouds.  He could enjoy such a view if he didn’t have so many other things on his mind.  And as soon as we rid it of its verminous intelligent life it will be a beautiful home for man.

One of the things he was concerned about had to do with the small bright flashes that were appearing on that surface.  Midas had ordered several of his ships to begin a kinetic bombardment on the area where the enemy had last been seen, before they broke contact with the interference of that woman.  The same one, it would seem, as she who had piloted the small spaceship that had taken out so much of his own force.  The harlot, he thought, imagining the day when he had her in his control.  She copulates with an abomination, and so becomes an abomination herself.  Her entry into Hell shall be a release from the Earthly pain I will impose upon her, and an introduction to true eternal pain.  But first he had to catch her.

“We cannot locate them,” said Commodore Midas over the com.  “They’re under cover, and there are just too damned many of those damned microsats in orbit, jamming us.  And that damned exothermic vegetation isn’t helping.”

The Admiral grimaced as he nodded his head.  They estimated that there were tens of thousands of the solar powered wafer sized satellites in orbit, each a surveillance platform and com link.  Individually they weren’t worth much.  In their thousands they were capable of much, including causing disruption to his own sensory and communications systems.  His ships were destroying them as they found them, but finding them was the problem.  It would probably take a week or more to degrade the system enough where it wasn’t a threat to his operations.

And the plant life was also a nightmare.  Not just the motile and carnivorous vegetation.  But who had ever heard of plants that were hot blooded (hot sapped?).  Who but the Devil would have created such a place?  Maybe we should just burn the surface to ash and start over.

“We’re getting ready to send more troops down to the planet,” said the Commodore, his face looking strained in the viewer.

Like mine wouldn’t if I lost half my command, then a good portion of my remaining Marines.  “Belay that order, Commodore,” he said to the man, nodding toward his own Tactical Officer.  “I’m going to hit them hard with some heavy kinetics.”

“My own bombardment vessels got taken out by that bitch,” said Midas, wearing a scowl.

“We still have a couple,” said the Admiral, a smile crossing his face.  “We’ll stay in high orbit and hit them with something a little more lethal.  But go ahead and evacuate your men.”

“I thought you wanted prisoners,” said the Commodore with a frown, raising an eyebrow.

“Not at the cost of more men,” said Gerasi, crossing his arms over his chest.  “Not if we can take them out the easy way.”

Gerasi waited for a few minutes, watching the screen that showed the green dots of the Marines heading back to the landing field.  He looked over at the repeater screen to his two bombardment ships.  Both were the same size as Orca, about six hundred and eighty meters in length, and were in fact built to the same plan.  At nine hundred and fifty thousand tons they were the largest ships his nation had ever built.  And they had the same compliment, two thousand Spacers and six hundred Marines.  But they carried a score of the larger kinetic weapons that would hit the surface with the power of a twenty megaton bomb, unlike the ten to twenty kiloton range of the smaller weapons.

Cachalot and Grampus maneuvered into position, their noses pointed down at the planet thirty thousand kilometers below.  Cachalot fired first, releasing the purpose build kinetic round through the magnetic accelerator that ran the length of her hull.  The round left the tube, while the ship’s engines pushed the vessel forward to take up the recoil.  The large rounded cylinder fell through the atmosphere, building up more velocity, until it disappeared from view.

Gerasi watched the screen that showed the planetary surface, waiting.  The second ship would wait until the impact of the first strike was revealed, so she would know where to fire her weapon to get the desired overlap.  The bridge counter ran through the seconds before impact, and when it reached zero a bright flash appeared on the surface of the planet, followed by a rising mushroom cloud.  A few moments later Grampus fired her first weapon.

Afterwards there would be conflicting reports as to what happened.  What Gerasi remembered, a memory that was later borne out by video, was a too bright beam of light that struck the second projectile and burned it from the sky.  That beam then swung in to contact Cachalot.  The hull of the battleship threw out sparks of molten metal as the beam swung through the vessel, cutting it into two unequal pieces.  Gas, liquid and debris, including hundreds of bodies not protected by suits, flew into space from those pieces.  Many of the bodies flared into ash as the beam continued to strike the ship.  It then moved on and struck Grampus in the same manner, cutting the ship in two and moving back to complete the job.  Within seconds all that was left were seven large sections of two warships, surrounded by their own debris field.

Fortunately none of the antimatter containment vessels aboard the ships had been ruptured.  How long that state of affairs would last the Admiral didn’t know.  “Where did that come from?” he yelled at his Tactical Officer, while he tried to figure out the right move to save his fleet.

“From that large pyramid structure on the horizon,” called back the white faced officer, his hands trembling as he manipulated his controls.

The structure appeared on the screen, reminding the Admiral of the ones on the planets of his nation.  It would of course be made of the same superstrong materials, but the ones he was familiar with were not armed with super powerful light amp weapons that could destroy a warship with one blast.  Unless they do have those weapons, but have never had reason to fire them within our history, thought the Admiral, staring at the structure.

“It opened fire seconds after the first of the big kinetics hit,” said the officer, looking at his screens while his fingers flew over his board.  He looked back at the Admiral with wide eyes.  “I think it’s a planetary defense installation, and it didn’t like us hitting the surface like that.”

“That may be true,” said the Admiral, making up his mind.  “Com.  Get all ships on the link.  Emergency boost to lower orbit.  I want the planet between us and that thing.”

“Aye sir,” yelled the com, while the bridge crew started Orca down the glide path to low orbit, where the Commodore’s ships already were.

The pyramid disappeared around the curve of the planet, and the bridge crew immediately relaxed as they realized it.  The Admiral continued to grip the arms of his chair as he watched his other ships following.  There could be other batteries, he thought.  But at least we’ll be out of range of that killer.  And then the last of his ships was below the horizon, and the Admiral allowed his hands to relax on the chair arms.

“The Commodore is asking if he should continue the bombardment with the smaller weapons,” said the Com Officer, looking back at the Admiral with a face that seemed to beg a no.

“Tell him, do not fire anything at the surface at this time,” said Gerasi, feeling his own face pale.  “Tell him to get his Marines back to that base and to prepare for extended ground action.”  The Admiral turned toward his Tactical Officer.  “You concur?”

“There didn’t seem to be any trouble when we were just chasing them on the ground,” said the officer, stopping to take a composure breath after the words left his mouth.  “The defense system only took notice of us when we started a heavy bombardment.  So it should be safe enough to put Marines on the ground.”

“Very well,” said the Admiral, turning back to the Com Officer.  “Tell all ships in this force to put all available Marines on the Suryan landing base.  All are to leave a one company reserve on board.”

“Aye sir,” said the Com Officer, turning back to his board.

We’ll see if you can outfight ten times your number of elite ground troops, thought the Admiral staring at the still rising mushroom cloud on the viewer.  Even if that demon and his vixen are aiding you.  You are mine.

*     *     *

Watcher looked up as the seismic sensors registered rumblings to the west, near to where he was heading.  “Computer,” he asked, looking at the viewer that was giving a take from the microsats he had seeded in orbit.  “What is occurring?”

“From the seismic readings, kinetic strikes are coming down on the area that is our target.  Weapons appear to be in the twenty kiloton range.”

What are you getting into now, Pandora, thought Watcher, grimacing.  He was sure that she was in her battle armor, he couldn’t think of her bailing from her ship without it.  And possibly some of her battlebots.  Even that hardware would not survive a direct hit by a twenty kiloton kinetic weapon.  But a near miss was next to useless with the protection she had.

The seismic meter continued to show strike after strike, while the microsats showed a flurry of bright flashes on the surface.  Then, as suddenly as it began, it stopped.  Several minutes went by, and then a sharp spike appeared on the seismic meter and a terrific flash appeared on the ground.

“That was a twenty megaton weapon,” said the computer.

“Shit,” said Watcher, shaking his head.  A near miss by that might kill her despite her armor.

Suddenly the sky overhead glowed with a bright light.  Watcher switched the take on the microsats, looking up, expecting to see what he actually saw.  It still surprised him to see a ship being cut apart in real time.  The beam had to be something like the poor fanatics had never imagined, and something they would now covet.  He continued to watch as the beam struck the second ship, with the same result, glowing sections of hull and the spark like smaller pieces flying into space as bodies spilled into the vacuum, many, the lucky ones, to be vaporized on contact with the beam.  The beam then switched off.

Watcher looked at the carnage for several minutes, also taking note of the other ships, intelligently, diving for the cover of a lower orbit, though they would still have to come in range of the pyramid sometime in that path unless they went into a staggered polar track.  Or continuously ran their drives to stay in place.  I guess they must have really pissed off the planetary defense system, thought the immortal human, a small smile on his face.  While he didn’t really like to kill intelligent beings, he considered the xenophobic members of the Nation of Humanity to be barely such.

“Bring us up above the tree line,” he ordered the computer controller.  “Let’s make some distance while we can.”

“What about the hostile warships?” asked the artificial intelligence.

“If you get even a peek of them duck us back down.  Immediately.  Even if we have to scrape some paint and alloy off the hulls.”

“Acknowledged,” replied the AI.  The hover tanks pushed up through the canopy of the great trees.  Cracking branches and knocking a rain of leaves that fell around them.  Within seconds the star flecked sky was clear, and the tanks moved up to several hundred kilometers an hour, cruising through the air.  Watcher wasn’t sure how long he would have the luxury of traveling like this, but he would take it while he could.

*     *     *

“This really is beautiful,” said Pandora, looking up at the stalactites that were growing from the roof, some joining with their mirror stalagmites to form rippled pillars.  “Reminds me of some caves near my home.”

“On old Earth?” asked the Admiral, wonder in his voice.  “A world of legend.”

And no longer there, thought the woman, a feeling of intense sadness coming over her.  My beautiful Yellow Hammer State, the University, the whole U S of A, gone to aliens who wanted us all dead.  Of course, she had learned the entire story from Watcher and the library computer on the station.  The humans had met the aliens again, and had kicked their asses back to their empire, soon eliminating it from the Galaxy.  But the Earth, the mother planet, had still been lost.

“Do not be sad, Ms. Latham,” said the Admiral, misinterpreting her sorrowful expression.  “You did all you could, and we could not have expected better from anyone else trying to save us.”

“Uh huh,” said Pandi, shaking her head.  And I do feel bad about letting so many of your people die, Admiral.  But I feel more sorrow for my lost home, damn my selfish little heart.

“We are quite safe here,” said Krishnamurta with a smile.  “We are over a kilometer back in the cave system, with a couple of kilometers of hard rock overhead.”

“And that will protect us from those KE weapons they’re dropping?” said the woman with a tight smile, looking up at the ceiling while she was monitoring her micro-robot surveillance system that surrounded the jungle around this mountain.  She had not seen a kinetic strike in the last half an hour.  But she had noted that shuttles were landing at the field twenty kilometers distant, unloading armored troops, then leaping back into the air.  She also noted that some atmospheric transports and attack craft had landed and were being prepped for operations.  She didn’t know what they would be used for, but her guesses didn’t bode well for her, or her friends.

“Not if they drop a big one right on top of us,” said the Admiral, shaking his head.  “I think that would bring the mountain down on our heads.  But they have no reason to know that we are here.”

Unless some of their people saw us go into the cavern mouth, though Pandora.  But I didn’t see anybody that might have seen us going underground.  Still not impossible that we were seen, just unlikely.  And unlikely might have to be good enough.

Pandora looked around the large cavern, illuminated by the portable lanterns the Suryans had carried with them.  There were about a hundred men and women in sight, and she knew there were more in the tunnels leading here, as well as the sentries at the openings.  Still not much compared to the thousands of Marines the Nation could land.  And it had been less than twenty-four hours since the Suryans had held this system.

Her remaining robots were out there with the sentries, and on individual patrols that crisscrossed the jungle.  They didn’t need rest or shelter, and it would take weeks to run down their batteries.  If it took longer than that to get off this planet then she was really screwed.  She didn’t believe Watcher would wait long before putting something together to come get her.  She couldn’t think of what he could do, but he was the most intelligent sentient in the Galaxy as far as she knew, and she didn’t doubt he would come up with something.

The Suryans were taking out rations and portable heaters, and putting together what they could to eat.  There was a strong curry odor to the food, and Pandi wondered again at the people’s origins.  They would not say they were from India, in fact they had probably never heard the name of that old Earth subcontinent.  But from their skin tones, their slightly polytheistic religion, and now the food they were preparing, she would not be too surprised to learn that these people had originated on the flood plains of the Ganges.

“I think we will be here for a little while,” said the Admiral, gesturing toward an area where many of his people were now sitting and talking.  “If you want to get comfortable, this might be the time.”

“Comfortable?” asked Pandi, feeling a little confused.

“That battle armor you’re wearing,” said the Admiral, patting his hand on her hard metal shoulder.  “I assume it’s great protection, but it can’t be too comfortable.”

Pandi thought about that for a moment.  The armor gave her links to her other robots, macro and micro, but she could still link in through it from a short distance.  And even though the suit’s nanosystems were keeping her clean, she still thought some exposure to the air would be welcome.  With a nod of her head she walked over to the nearest wall, turned around, and positioned herself where she was out of the way.  With a thought the suit opened along the seams that didn’t exist a moment before.  The gloves attached to the legs and her hands came up and out, the arms split open, while the helmet lifted and folded away.  The chest and groin section opened and folded back, and with a pair of steps Pandi was out of the battle armor, her skin suit feeling clean and comfortable on her body.

“That suit is amazing,” said the Admiral, coming closer and studying the mechanism.  He put a finger on the metal.  “You must have been very lucky out there.  I don’t see any hits.”

“Oh, I was hit, alright,” she said with a smile.  “More often than I should have been, really.”  And Watcher will give me hell when he sees the video take of the fight.  If he has time after he gives me hell about the other things I’ve done.  She looked at the suit, then over at the Admiral.  “The armor repairs light battle damage almost as soon as it happens.  And it will service itself while I am out of it.  Only thing is I don’t have a station to recharge it, so once it’s out of power it’s just a hunk of metal.”

“And how long would that take?” asked the officer, his hand running along the padded inner surface of the suit.

“About a week,” said Pandi, checking her stores while she had the moment.  “In heavy combat take maybe a day or two off of that figure.”

“Simply amazing,” said the Admiral, a longing look on his face.  “And something still far beyond my people.”

And something you would really like to have for your Marines, thought Pandora, looking at the man and wishing she could do more for him.  She had no concern that they would take the armor without her permission.  They knew better than to cross Watcher, and valued their friendship more than any single gain.  But as good of friends as the Suryans were, they couldn’t just give them all the superior tech they had, lest the kingdom go on the offensive.  It was too easy to become the conqueror when given the means to conquer.

“One day your people will achieve this again,” said Pandi, putting her hand on the man’s shoulder.  “You have my word on that.  And remember, from when I come from the tech you have is pretty advanced.”

“As long as the Nation does not surpass us,” said the Admiral, his eyes intensely fierce.

“We’ll just have to make sure those xenophobic bastards don’t get the upper hand,” said Pandi, clapping her hand on his shoulder, then looking over at the people cooking.  She looked back at the Admiral.  “Next time I’ll have something a little more lethal under me, now that I know what I’m facing.  Now let’s say we have a go at some chow.  The suit will feed me what nutrients I need, but it sure doesn’t do anything for an empty stomach.”

*     *     *

Major Dronning Dumas cursed again as he followed his point team through the steaming jungle.  He had heard the term before, but had never really experienced it.  But here it was, a mass of vegetation that was actually putting hot moisture into the air.  What in the Hell was God thinking when he created this mess.

“Anything to report, Dumas?” came the voice of Colonel Hermann McClain over the com.

Dumas cursed again, but made sure it was a silent epitaph.  He didn’t like this officer, not one bit, and wished once more that Colonel Quaid had made it through the first battle.  Instead the Colonel from the Orca was in overall command.

“Nothing at all, sir,” said the Major, wishing again that he could leave this green hell behind for a nice fight aboard ship, where at least he didn’t have to worry about being swarmed under by killer insects, or stabbed by ambulatory poisonous plants.  He shuddered again as he thought about the trooper who stepped onto some kind of nest, and was covered in stinging insects in an instant.  His armor protected most of his body, but some of the arthropod like creatures had gotten into the crevices, and the soft part of the suit had not stopped their stingers from going home.  The man had died with a scream of agony, and the bugs had continued to fight their way into the bounty that had come to them.  They didn’t get to enjoy it, thought the Major with a grimace.  Lasers had incinerated the man and the insects, while explosive shells had taken out the depths of the nest.  But the man had definitely not enjoyed the revenge that was taken on his behalf.

Then had come the trooper who had stumbled into some plant that looked like a harmless bush underneath a tree.  Harmless until the man had run into it, at which point slender branches shot out and hit the man with hundreds of thorns.  As with the insects, most of the thorns had been stopped by the armor, but one or more had penetrated the suit at the joints, and the man had died in moments.  Again the cause of death had been destroyed.  And again the victim really hadn’t cared.

“Well, keep an eye out,” came the voice of the martinet officer over the com.

What the hell do you think I’m doing, you ass, thought the officer.  “Yes sir.  We’re keeping a close watch for the bastards.”

“McClain out,” came the reply, a relief to the younger officer.

“Look out,” yelled someone over the com.  The yell was followed by the sound of mag rifle rounds thwacking through the brush, then more screams and cries.

Dumas ran toward the sounds, while yelling over the com for a sitrep.  All he got in return was more yelling and cursing, which told him nothing except there was trouble ahead.  The Major burst into the small clearing from which the commotion arose, and cursed again as he saw the creatures his men had run into.

There were a couple of armored forms lying on the ground and not moving, his men, and checking their telemetry he cursed yet again.  One was dead, the other had vitals that were low and dropping.  The creatures he took to be Maurids at first.  They were of a similar shape, with the same stripped or mottled skins in an orange theme as the alien sophonts.  One of the creatures was swinging an armored trooper against a tree, the heavy smacking sounds echoing through the clearing.  Dumas noted the size of the creature, gauging it to be at least three hundred kilos, and as it turned its head a bit he saw that the skull was narrower and the jaw heavier than a Maurid’s.  It was a close relative, but not the evil alien sentient, as his people thought them.

This only took a moment to go through the sharp witted officer’s mind.  At the same time he was aiming his weapon at the alien predator, lining it up and pulling his trigger.  A burst of high velocity rounds ripped into the beast, and its orange fur became spotted with deep red blood.  With an almost human scream the creature went down, and with it the man it had been attacking, both to lay unmoving on the ground.

More Marines joined in, shooting down all the creatures in sight.  Within seconds all of the predators had been killed, and there were a dozen orange furred bodies lying in the poses of death.

“What’s going on?” called the Colonel over the com, his voice angry.  “What is holding your people up?”

“We were attacked by a pack predator, sir,” said Dumas, taking a close look at one of the beasts.  It had hands, he noted, just like the Maurids, and he wondered at the relation between the two species.

“How did they get to you, Major?” asked the Colonel, his voice sullen.  “Couldn’t your point men have taken them out?”

“They seem to be arboreal, sir,” said the Major, realizing that no matter what he said he would take the brunt of the blame.  “They took out five of my men before they knew what was happening.”

“Took out?  What do you mean, took out?”

“I have four dead and one seriously wounded,” said the Major, looking over to where the Doc was opening the armor of the one living man.  “These things are big and powerful, and they just banged men against the trees until the Marines died of concussive shock.”

“Well, get moving, Major,” said the Colonel, his voice cold.  “The Admiral expects us to find those Suryans, not play with the wildlife.”

“Yes, sir,” said Dumas, holding his anger in.  “Well get right on it, sir.”

“Move the men out,” yelled Dumas over the com, circling a finger in the air and pointing forward.  A movement caught the corner of his eye, just in time for the Major to see another half dozen of the big creatures drop from the trees and go into the attack.

Chapter Twelve

Aliens are either soulless creatures, the wretches of the Universe, or they have a soul that is only fit to dwell in the realm of Satan, their creator.  Man is the only intelligent creature touched by God, and it is up to man to make sure he is not contaminated by the creations of Satan.  What better task can a man devote himself to than the reunion of the souls of the Alien with their creator, to dwell with him in the Lake of Fire.   Teachings of the Church of Humanity.

“One of our sats is picking up something moving on the surface,” called out a sensor officer.

Admiral Miklas Gerasi looked over from his seat on the flag bridge of the battleship Orca, his brow raised in curiosity.  “What do you have?  One of the Suryans?”

“I don’t think so, sir,” said the officer, looking back at the Admiral.  “Take a look.”

The Admiral looked over at a repeater screen as the vid came through.  There were what looked like five objects cruising speedily above the canopy of the jungle.  They were just about invisible, with very sophisticated stealth fields that blended them in with their background.

“We picked them up when a computer scan noticed the foliage moving from something,” said the officer, nodding toward the large screen that sat above his board.  “Foliage that was moving in a straight line, while the brush twenty meters to either side was not.”

The Admiral jumped from his chair and strode to the officer’s station, where he could get a better look at the objects.  That was a stroke of luck, thought the Admiral, looking over the officer’s shoulder.  Maybe God is favoring us with his Will.

“Their field is really good, but once we knew where to look we were able to use infrared to pick them up against the slightly cooler vegetation,” explained the Sensory Officer.  “Not much of a temperature difference though.”

“Still hard to see,” said the Admiral, straining his eyes to look at the objects, a velocity vector below them showing two hundred and fifty kilometers an hour speed.  “Put it up on the main viewer.”

The officer nodded, and an instant later the image was on the main viewer, much clearer on the eight by seven meter holo.

“I would guess that is technology from the Donut,” said the Tactical Officer, pointing a finger at the screen.

The Admiral walked to the viewer, which had centered on one of the moving objects.  He could make out the general shape of it under the stealth field, and wondered if he would have been able to see anything if the object had been stationary.  They look like some kind of armored vehicle, he thought, staring at the object.  “Zoom in on the center one,” he ordered, and the object ballooned.  It was a rectangular box of some kind, and he would have bet his life it was a tank.

“What do we have that can hit them?” he said, looking back at his Tactical Officer.  “Quickly, and with max force.”

“We have a squadron of atmospheric attack craft at the landing field,” said the Tac Officer, consulting his screen.  “They can be there in less than thirty minutes.”

“Tell them to come in low and slow as they approach the target,” said the Admiral, waving his finger.  “I don’t want those things to know they are there until they are on top of him.”  And just maybe we can catch that mutated bastard out of his fortress.  Please, God, let him be in one of those vehicles, come to rescue his harlot.

“We’re receiving a sitrep from Colonel McClain,” called out the Marine Liaison Officer.  “He says they are being delayed by the forest, but he is triangulating on some signals that might lead them to the target.”

“Tell him to push on,” said the Admiral, pointing at the Liaison Officer.  He turned back to look at the viewer, then thought of something else and turned back to the Marine officer.  “Make sure that those transports are loaded with as many Marines as they can fit.  I want them ready to take to the air as soon as we find the Suryans and their ally.  They can put a blocking force in place so the assholes don’t get away, again.”

The Liaison Officer nodded and went to work, making sure the ground forces got the orders of the system commander.  Before the sun goes down I’ll have crushed you all, thought Gerasi, raising a fist in the air.  By my God I swear it.

*     *     *

“Where are you getting this from?” asked Fleet Admiral Nagara Krishnamurta, watching the projected holo that put him in the middle of the Nation Marines that were searching for him and his.  The Marines were walking through the jungle, and the picture zoomed in to the face plate of one of the troopers, allowing the Admiral to read the name tag over the plate.

“About ten thousand micro-pizzos,” said the woman, pausing for a second to take in a spoonful of soup and swallow.  “This is really good for rations.  I’d have to join your organization, if I didn’t object so much to taking orders.”

“Surely you had to take orders when you worked as a spacer,” said one of the other Suryan officers, seated nearby and studying the holo.

“Not like in the military,” said Pandora as she swirled her spoon around in the curry, looking for morsels of meat.  “As a civilian I had a little more leeway, and I could always quit between missions.”

“So these are robots?” asked the Admiral, looking over at the woman.

“Very small robots,” she agreed, nodding her head.  “Not in the class of nanobots.  More like micrometer scale.  And a whole bunch of them are out there tagging the Nation force, then transmitting the signals back to me.”

“How are they not picking them up?” asked the Admiral, his eyes narrowing.

“Oh, they’re probably getting some bleed from a couple dozen or so,” said Pandora with a smile.  “At least I hope that’s all they’re getting.  But the signal from any one is so small it will really confound their systems.  Each only sends a narrow beam out to their nearest fellows, and on and on all the way back to this here place.”

“Amazing,” said the other officer, watching the view zoom out from the face of the enemy and move upward.

“The pizzo is not really moving,” said Pandora, grabbing a canteen and working on the cap.  “The swarm is simply shifting the take to other bots.  But now for some real fun.”

Pandora took a swig from the canteen, then put it on the ground and closed her eyes, linking in with one of her large combat robots and giving it orders.  It shot lasers out to its six companions, all holding onto the sides of the tree they perched on, above the lower level of the canopy.  All acknowledge and set the ambush into motion.

Each robot had a built in microgrenade launcher capable of firing a hundred rounds a minute.  Each round was not very powerful, with only a few grams of explosive crystal matrix.  But in volume they were deadly.  And now the robots fired them on full automatic, unerringly missing the branches below and pushing the grenades through the leaves, which were not hard enough to detonate the mini explosives.

The take from the pizzos showed two of the battlebots firing away, the extended tube of the launcher retracting for a fraction of a second on each shot from the recoil of the magrail launcher.  The take switched swiftly to the scene below the trees, where grenades were detonating in winks of white fire as they plunged among the troops.  Several men were hit instantly, grenades blowing holes through helmets and into the skulls below.  These men dropped like limp rags encased in hard tubes.  The explosions ripped across other men trying to find cover.  In moments there were dozens of men on the ground, most not moving, others twisting and turning in agony, while a few tried to return fire.

A rocket launcher fired below, sending a hypervelocity missile up into the canopy.  There really was no target, and the missile should have been a clean miss.  By luck it struck a battlebot across the body, blasting the robot in half, and sending the pieces large and small to the ground below.  The other five machines scrambled upward into the tops of the trees, putting thick branches between them and the humans they had targeted.  In moments they were scrambling away along the treetops, heading for the next ambush site that Pandi had already picked out with her pizzos.

“That was amazing,” said the younger Suryan, a smile on his face.

Even I don’t hate the bastards half as much as these guys do, thought Pandi, following the view of one of the robots in her link.  But then again, I haven’t been fighting them for over four decades.  “I’m down to nine functional robots,” she said, switching the link through the other bots in sequence.  “Wish I could have brought the others along, but they kind of got broken when my ship got hit.”

“How many more did you have?” asked the Admiral, his eyes still locked on the holo that showed the Nation troopers cleaning up the mess and rendering aid to their wounded.

“I had a hundred of them aboard Avenger,” said Pandi, waving a hand at her mouth and reaching for the canteen.  “This stuff is really good, but maybe a little hot.”  She up ended the canteen and took down a large swallow.

“That is mild curry,” said the other Suryan officer with a smile.

Pandora frowned at the man, then took another swig.  “I had a hundred of them, with enough ammo and power packs for a week’s operations.  But the bastards blew holes in my beautiful ship, which continued on into most of my robots.”

“We sure could have used them now,” said the Suryan officer, shaking his head.

“We are grateful for what you could do,” said the Admiral, patting Pandi on the shoulder while he shot a look of anger at the younger man.  A look he caught, and he shifted his gaze to the floor.

“Well, it looks like I’m gonna need to do more,” said the woman, her eyes narrowing as she looked at the holo, which had changed to a far overhead view with the red dots of the Nation of Humanity Marines showing through the foliage.  A lot of red dots, with some getting very close to the green dots that were the outer sentries at the cavern entry points.

“What do you need us to do?” asked the Admiral, getting to his feet as soon as Pandora stood up.

“Stay here and get ready to boogie,” she said, walking over to her armor.  She backed into the standing suit, which closed around her and sealed immediately, leaving her head exposed.  “I’ll try to give you as much time as I can.  And I’ll leave one of the bots with you so you can keep apprised of what’s happening, and we can talk.”

“Do you know what you’re doing?” asked the Admiral, a worried expression on his face.

“I think so,” said Pandi, her hand reaching up and patting the hilt of the katana reaching over her shoulder.  “If not, I’ll let you know.”

*     *     *

“Aircraft approach,” called out the computer, at the same time as they appeared on the scope.

Watcher  looked at that scope, noting that the returns were very faint.  Probably would have been completely invisible to their own technology, he thought, wondering if they were on some kind of a patrol, or already targeted on his own well stealthed vehicles.  But they had just come over the horizon, which was not a good altitude for a patrol.  All this went through the superbeing’s mind in an instant, the command through his link an instant later.

All turrets swiveled onto targets, weapons hot, while the tanks changed their vector in a downward angle, trying to get under the canopy before the attack craft reached them.  The turrets fired as soon as they had a target.  A dozen attack craft roared over, their own weapons flailing out at the tanks.  Four of the craft were trailing smoke and pieces of wreckage, and Watcher was sure they would not make the turn to come back.  As he watched another attack ship took a triple hit and exploded in midair, raining burning hydrogen fuel and pieces of wreckage onto the canopy of the jungle.

Fortunately the attack craft really didn’t have a good weapons’ lock on his tanks.  But as soon as he fired on them they fired back.  A dozen missiles dropped from weapons’ bays and homed in on the laser emitting tanks.  Lasers and close in defense systems immediately shifted fire to the missiles, blasting nine of them from the air.  A tenth took a glancing blow that sent it spinning into the trees to explode below the top canopy.

Two of the missiles hit directly into the tanks.  One exploded on a turret that reflected the blast away with its superhard material construction.  One hit the fourth tank in line over the engine compartment and blasted through, sending the flaming vehicle on a long fall to the jungle floor below.

Watcher cursed under his breath at losing one of his weapons and the robots aboard, while at the same time thanking the Universe that it wasn’t his command vehicle that had taken the killing blow.  The attack craft were turning in a quick loop, the seven that had survived the first pass.  The other five were gone, and he was sure they had been too low for pilots to bail, especially the one that had exploded.  He willed his group to continue to drop, down to the jungle floor.  Explosions rumbled above them as missiles exploded into the canopy, starting fires that threatened to spread even through the moist vegetation.

They know where I am, he thought, calling up a view from his microsats, cursing himself for not having a permanent feed in place.  He could see the seven orbiting above him from their heat signature.  And two more groups vectoring toward his position.  He was confident they wouldn’t be able to pick up his heat trail.  His engines were of the most efficient design possible to his tech base, fusion bottles with wormhole heat sinks pulling all waste radiation away.  And the near body temperature vegetation masked what little heat he did put out.  They might be able to pick him up with a clear line of sight, if they were in close.  Through the canopy they didn’t have a chance.

The explosions caught him off guard, again.  They were dropping semi-smart bombs through the canopy, set to explode when they hit something solid while avoiding the trees on the way down.  The first crumps were at a short distance, but came closer, like a giant walking the Earth.  In an instant there were explosions all around Watcher and his small robotic command.  Missiles streaked through the canopy to send rivers of flame running down the trucks of trees.

Watcher was in a well-insulated vehicle, but knew that his ears would be bleeding were he outside the tank and not in his armor.  The ground rumbled underneath, and soon he lost contact with the vehicle behind his.  He tapped into a vid feed from another tank and saw that a pair of bombs had struck that unresponsive vehicles, and it was now a burning wreck.  They’re using thousand kilo armor piercers, he thought, which not even his armored vehicles could handle.  He had thought about bringing truly heavy armor on this mission, but it would have taken much longer to put them together at the pyramid, and he wouldn’t have had the capacity to carry so many combat bots.  Now he regretted that decision as he thought of how it might kill him before he could get to Pandi.

The jungle was aflame all around him now, and the bombs continued to rain down.  How long can they keep this up? he thought, then felt his heart fall as he saw more squadrons approaching on his satellite take.  As long as they need to.

And then a pair of explosions rocked his tank up, and a third started to tip it over.  Watcher grabbed on to a hand hold and pulled himself tight against the wall, wondering if he would make it through this low tech but effective attack.  He didn’t see the heavy box of crystalline matrix batteries that had not been sufficiently secured.  But his head felt them as they slammed hard into his bald pate.  And then he felt nothing as blackness closed over him.

*     *     *

Admiral Miklas Gerasi groaned as he watched the first attack run on the stealthed vehicles that left four of his atmospheric craft falling into the jungle while another exploded in midair.  He pumped a fist as he saw the hit on one of the tanks that sent it burning through the canopy toward the ground.  And then the rest of the vehicles dipped down through the upper canopy and out of sight.

“Bomb the hell out of that area,” yelled Gerasi into the com link.  He looked over at the Marine Liaison Officer.  “Get a company transported to that location and scour the area.”

“What about the airlift to block the Suryans?” said the Marine officer, a scowl on his face.

“Bring in two companies and send the birds back for the third company,” said the Admiral, his voice rising to a yell.  “Must I do all the thinking around here?”  Gerasi fumed for a moment, not even thinking about the implications of his last statement, that his Dogmatic Church did not want adherents who thought for themselves, and as a consequence had soldiers who couldn’t come up with an original idea.

The aircraft circled over the jungle on the screen, dropping bombs that fell through the canopy, only to send blasts of dirt and flame back up.  “We lost him,” came the voice of the squadron commander over the net, the acting commander, as the original had been downed on the first pass.

“Keep pounding that area until you are out of ordnance,” ordered the Admiral, looking at two repeater screens that showed a pair of squadrons on the way.  And minutes behind them was a dedicated bomber squadron, each plane carrying five times the bomb load of the fighters.

They really complicated matters for me, thought the Admiral of the dwellers on the Donut.  I could have already bagged the Suryans if not for their interference.  But if I can bag them as well the Donut is open to us.  And with the Donut, the Universe.  The Admiral continued to look at the screens showing the ongoing attack on the hidden tanks, dreaming of his people and his faith spreading across the Galaxy, making it a fitting home for humans, and a graveyard for everyone else.

*     *     *

Pandora looked at the images playing across her helmet’s heads up display as a smile played across her face.  The Nation Marines were walking right into her parlor, and she was about to slap them, hard.  Her eight robots were all in position, stealthed as much as possible and using the foliage to blend in.  Her smile turned to a frown as she checked her particle beam rifle.  It still had plenty of power in its crystal matrix battery pack.  But the last proton storage mag was inserted into the rifle, and it only showed half full.

Well, I’ve still got the laser pistol fully charged, she thought, patting the butt of that weapon, then reaching over her shoulder to touch the hilt of her katana.  And this here bitch don’t need a recharge.  At least I don’t think it does.  She still wasn’t clear on how the blade worked, something to do with other dimensions and resonances.  That it worked, and worked well, was enough for her.  And it would be enough for those she introduced to its infinitely sharp blade as well.  And I’ve got the built in suit weapons if it comes to that, she thought.  They weren’t near as powerful as the carried weapons, but they would do in a pinch.

She checked the HUD again, noting that the red dots were almost all in the trap.  There were still a lot of them outside the box, and the ones that were moving into what would soon be flanking position worried her the most.  She couldn’t do much about them at this point, except stay flexible and react to their moves.  While hoping they reacted to hers in a predictable manner.

Oh shit, she thought, as one of the red dots drifted to the side, right toward one of her robots.  The bots were very good at hiding, with their cammo systems rendering them essentially invisible.  But they were still solid objects, and someone walking into one could not fail to notice that it was there.  The red dot stopped, and she switched her display to a vid of the trooper, who crouched down and was staring at something about where her bot was.  She zoomed in on the Marine’s face plate, and could see his lips moving through the plastisteel armor.  She glanced up at the smaller screen toward the top of her HUD, and saw that more red dots were moving that way, quickly.

No plan survives contact with the enemy.  Pandora knew this, it had been hammered into her head by Watcher and the learning programs she had used to gain knowledge of military operations, both naval and land.  She thought quickly about what to do, and her mouth formed one word to send out to her bots.  “Fire.”

The unfortunate marine who had first spotted her robot was the first to die, an angry red particle beam blasting through his faceplate to destroy the face, then the brain behind it.  The trooper fell backwards from the force of the strike, his body lying on the ground while steam and smoke rose in a small column from his helmet.  The robot immediately started tracking another target, firing as that trooper went to a kneeling position and pulled his rifle to his shoulder.

All of the robots opened fire, blasting away with particle beams, lasers and grenade launchers at the eighty-six troopers who had been caught in the box.  It was a deadly crossfire, one in which the bots did not have to worry about their own misses hitting them, as they were all linked into a coherent system.  Pandora was the reserve, there to contain anything that might break out of the box, or in.  Watching her HUD see saw a dozen dots shift to the left, around the flank of her ambush.  Crafty SOB, she thought.  Someone over there was quick on his feet, and was directing an attack to the flank.  Even as she moved she could see one of her robots go off the grid, killed by the flankers.

Pandora split her attention between the overall display, the vid feeds that were coming in from the bots, and her real time surroundings.  She still wondered about her mental abilities since Watcher had augmented her.  Nowhere near in his class, but still something greater than the humans of her time.  She constantly had to remind herself that superior did not mean superhuman.  And now she moved swiftly and cautiously toward the flanking attack, reminding herself of the same.

Her first target didn’t see her coming.  She brought the particle beam rifle up to her shoulder, feeling the vibrations of the accelerator chamber through her armor, and sighted in on the Marine.  The rifle bucked in her hand, and the beam went just where she had intended, planning for the recoil.  The side of the trooper’s helmet melted and a hole appeared in the sagging alloy.  With a tremor in his legs the man dropped to the ground, his weapon falling with him.

Another turned toward her, swinging what looked like a heavy laser beam her way.  Her particle beam cut the weapon in half as it plowed a gash through the armor and killed the man.  Pandi fired two more shots at another trooper, missing with the first, hitting him in the arm with the second.  The man folded up on himself and hit the ground, what would have been a superficial wound with most other weapons manifesting into a mortal injury as megajoules of heat were pumped into his body.

Something struck the front of the woman’s face plate, spranging away and leaving a small scuff mark on the superhard material.  A couple of more rounds struck, and Pandi ducked down, then prone, returning fire.  A tree exploded outward as its sap superheated under the particle beam, then some bushes caught fire from another blast, before she finally found her target and burned through armor and man in a fast blast.

Pandora checked her HUD and cursed again.  The enemy had started rolling up her other flank as well, and there were only four functional robots left.  She thought about ordering them to retreat, but by the position of the red dots they would be under fire the whole way.  Something exploded near her, throwing dirt over her armor.  She jumped up, continuing the motion on grabbers that brought her into the air, then fired at the grenadier she spotted in an instant, burning him down and setting the reloads on his suit into sympathetic detonations from the heat.

And I was always such a peaceable woman, she thought as she floated through the air and took out another Marine, then dropped to the ground as rounds began to crack around her.  Three Marines came at her, and she burned down two before the third, another grenadier, got a string of micro-grenades off and into her armor.

The small explosives did not penetrate, but they did damage to her outer stealth systems.  And a couple hit the particle beam rifle in about the only place they could harm it, right on the control panel to the lower right of the sight.  Pandora pulled the trigger and nothing happened.  She pulled again, looking at the rifle, and cursed as she saw the scarred area on the receiver assembly.  With another curse she threw the weapon to the ground, then pulled the laser pistol from its holster in a motion that would have been the envy of an old west gunfighter.  She squeezed the trigger as the barrel tracked up the body of the man, exploding some ordnance on his belt.  The beam hit his faceplate and the man pulled his arms over his eyes.  But the beam did little real damage to the armor, which had reflective countermeasures built in.

Pandora turned to escape, triggering her suit grabbers and rising above the ground while pushing her forward.  Someone got her in his sights at that moment, and a hyper-v missile flew out of nowhere.  It struck on her lower right leg, taking the grabber unit off the suit like a surgeon’s scalpel.  The suit unbalanced and flipped over, striking hard the trunk of a tree.  Pandi woofed out the air in her lungs and panicked for a moment.  The laser went flying from her hand, and she twisted in the air with rounds spranging off her suit.  Her HUD showed that a laser had contacted her briefly, but her reflective surfaces shrugged off the light amp weapon.

I’m gonna get killed up here, she thought, trying to right her suit for a moment, then giving up and cutting the grabbers.  She fell the twenty meters to the ground, the remaining grabbers cutting in for an instant before she hit and bleeding her velocity.  Shots continued to crack by or ricochet from her suit with thawking noises.  She was up on her feet in an instant, running as fast as the suit would take her through some brush.  The suit vibrated for an instant, and the sonics warning came up on her display.  But the sonic stunner hadn’t been made that would get through this armor.

Something’s wrong, she thought as she turned and zigged through the brush.  The suit was not running fast enough, and she noted some blinking icons on the HUD.  Pulling them up she cursed at the damage the servos in the leg had taken.  She wasn’t about to outrun anyone, and there were red dots ahead closing in on her.

Pandora pulled a hand grenade from her belt, setting the explosive through her link, then tossing it hard behind her.  She pulled another and threw it ahead, it leaving her hand at the same time the first exploded thirty meters behind.  She pulled the last and sent it toward the largest concentration of dots, not expecting to do more than take out a couple of the armored warriors.  But any confusion she could cause would be to her advantage.

And then she reached up over her left shoulder and pulled the katana from its sheath, careful not to touch any of the edge to her suit.

*     *     *

Fleet Admiral Nagara Krishnamurta looked back at the steaming jungle they had traversed, wondering how the woman out of time was doing.  I hope she knows what she’s doing, he thought once again.  True, she had those marvelous battlebots, well beyond anything his kingdom or the Nation of Humanity could field.  And her battle armor was generations ahead of theirs.  But she was also outnumbered almost a hundred to one, and quantity had a quality of its own.

“There’s another cavern system ahead,” called out the voice of Lt. Commander Dasha Mandrake in his com link.  They were taking advantage of some of Latham’s pizzos, floating in a cloud around them, to give them secure communications.

“Good work, Commander,” said the Admiral, looking over at one of the Maurid guides who was making sure the humans didn’t die in their jungle from inattention, or lack of knowledge.  He wished they could take a more active role in ambushing the enemy, but bow, arrows and spears were not a match for modern weapons and armor.  He still wasn’t sure what Pandora expected to do with that ancient looking sword of hers, but knowing her it had to be something spectacular.

“Give the credit to the Latham woman’s microbots,” said the Commander.  “I think they scoured the entire area, and found something even the guides didn’t know about.  That tech is amazing.”

The Admiral could hear in the Commander’s voice her envy of the advanced tech.  Something he hoped they would someday develop, if they weren’t gifted with it first.  But if Latham died they might find that well dry.  He was sure the superman would not be happy if his lover was killed trying to help what to him was a nation of primitives.

“Let’s get these people under cover, and quickly,” said the Admiral into the link.  “Before something gives us away.  And make sure we have human sentries covering all approaches.  The robots are great, but I prefer having some organic eyes out there.”

“Yes sir,” said the Commander in a tone of someone snapping to attention.

I know I shouldn’t even bother telling her that, thought the Admiral with a smile.  She’s a good officer, and doesn’t need micromanagement.  But it makes me feel better, and that has to count for something.

A moment later the Admiral was cursing under his breath as a Maurid led him around a clearing that looked ordinary as hell under his untrained eye, but one he had been about to traverse.  And he wished yet again that he had never come to this orange hell.

*     *     *

Major Dronning Dumas looked down at the remains of the robot and whistled to himself.  He had never seen such a lethal machine, kilo for kilo, in his life.

“I lost twelve men taking this thing out,” said the Lieutenant platoon leader, kicking one of the six legs of the machine with an armored boot.  “And a couple of wounded who just might make it.”

“What did it hit you with?” asked the Major, glancing over at the line of bodies the platoon was gathering in the clearing.

“Lasers, projectiles, a wicked little grenade.  And then there was the particle beam.  Like nothing I had ever seen.”

“We have particle beams,” said the Major, looking at the snout of the weapon in question projecting from the head of the robot.

“Not like these we don’t,” said the Lieutenant, shaking his head.  “I used to work in R & D before taking a commission, and we have nothing near as powerful.  This thing glowed an angry red, and sounded like a swarm of bees.  An angry swarm.  That takes some fierce kinetic energy from such a small weapon.”

“Like the rifle the woman used before,” said the Major, thinking back on what he had seen in the recent past firefight.  He looked back at the machine.  “We need to get this back to the ship, so they can look at it and see what they can make of it.”

“I’m betting that all the inner systems will be scrambled,” said the junior officer, hunching his shoulders in an attempt to relieve the stress of the moment.  “If I were them I would have systems, nanosystems, that were made to destroy as much of the inner works as possible.”

“We can still get an idea about how to build the things,” said the Major, sending a message by link to his commander, his new commander at the landing field, with a sitrep and a suggestion for the robots.  “And we might get lucky and catch her as well.”  Dumas knew he would not have to specify who she was.  Everyone down here knew they were on a search and capture mission for the female of the pair from the Donut.  Which brought both anticipation and fear.

“We have her,” came a call over the link, and the Major started.

“She’s captured?” he asked, looking at his HUD and seeing that the transmission came from a company commander to the right flank of the battalion.

“Not yet, but we’ve got her trapped,” said the Captain over the link.  “There’s no escape for you,” he said, his words coming over the link.  “So why don’t you just drop that.”  The words were interrupted by a gurgling scream, and there were shouts in the background, just before the link went dead.

“You men, follow me,” yelled the Major, looking around the clearing.

“What about the robots?” asked the junior officer.

“They can wait,” said Dumas, unslinging his rifle and heading toward the position the signal had come from.  “We have bigger game afoot.”

Chapter Thirteen

I have nothing against religion.  But I take a stand against those fools who think their religion is the only version of the truth, and are willing to push it everyone else, by force if necessary.  Those are the bastards I will always stand against.   Pandora Latham.

The trooper came crashing through the brush, rifle held at the ready, his eyes searching all the shadowed spaces for the target.  The target found him first, the ultra-sharp blade slicing down, taking off the man’s forearms as it cut through the armor and weapon like they were made of jelly.  The man screamed in agony, before the blade came back in and took his helmeted head from his shoulders.

Pandora Latham was not a cruel woman.  She cringed when she heard that scream of agony, agony that she had caused.  She breathed a sigh of relief after she decapitated the man, putting him out of his misery.  She didn’t mind killing if it was necessary, and she had determined a while back that many of the people of the Nation of Humanity needed killing.  But pain was not her thing, giving or receiving.

“She’s over here,” yelled someone else on the com link that she was tapping into.  Another Marine came through the brush, pulling up in surprise when he found himself in front of the enemy he thought would be running away, trying to raise his rifle and get off a call at the same time, and not doing either very well.

“I need he…” said the young man just before the katana was thrust through his stomach.  She twisted the blade and pulled it out to the side, cutting through intestines, the inferior main artery, and a kidney.  The man went down gasping out his life, bleeding out so fast he could hardly have felt the pain.

Pandi ran away from the kill, using the still functioning servos of the suit to jump over some brush.  She landed on the other side, her blade sweeping right and left and taking out the two Marines who didn’t have time to react to her strike.  Rounds rattled off her suit, and a laser that missed torched the bushes behind her.  She spun and took off, heading for the three men who were firing at her, straight for the laser gunner first as the most dangerous.  The beam struck her suit, reflected away by its electromag field and the nanosurface of the armor, and Pandi waved her blade into the path as well.  The almost magical sword absorbed the heat without transmitting it up the blade, and she closed the distance with the sound of striking rounds in her ears.

She pulled the blade over her shoulder and down, slicing through the laser gunner and opening his suit like the shell of a crab, spilling blood and intestines onto the jungle floor.  Pandi swiveled her hips and brought the blade around into the next trooper, while the third emptied his magazine into her helmet with no effect.  The second trooper fell to the ground in two pieces, his torso sliced in half at an angle.  She slid her feet in the dirt, realigned her body, and took the head of the third trooper.

The katana was not really an easy weapon to master, but master it Pandora did, with constant practice using a lower tech weapon against robot opponents.  She was feeling warmed up now, and knew she could keep this up for hours, as long as the enemy didn’t strike at one of her weak points.  And so far they had shown no indication that they knew such existed.

More shots hit her armor, including a couple of micro-grenades that did some real damage to her outer systems, knocking out camouflage and electromag generators.  She spun in the air in a leap, hitting the ground running away from those firing at her, then dropping down behind a large tree, her audio sensors turned up full.  The sounds of the pursuing troopers were clear to her ears, crashing through the underbrush.  At least one started screaming at something else, a scream that turned into a death rattle, and Pandi smiled as she thought of the jungle doing her job for her.

The woman loped through some more brush, knocking away a vine that reached out and tried to punch a sharp tip through her suit.  The vine came back and she sliced through it, ignoring it as the remainder retracted while the severed part fell twitching to the ground.  And then she was through the brush and behind two more troopers caught looking the wrong way.  One swing of the sword turned it into the last mistake they would ever make, and she faded back into the brush again.

*     *     *

“We hit her a bunch of times,” yelled the wide eyed Sergeant to the Major.  “Full auto.  And the rounds just bounced away.”

“Lasers didn’t do any better,” said another trooper, slapping an angry hand on his light amp weapon.  “Her armor is just too tough.”

“Then we have to change the way we’re engaging her,” said the Major, looking at the body at his feet and grimacing.  The weapon she had, which had been described as a sword, had sliced open the man from shoulder to crotch, right through the alloy and carbon fiber armor that should have stopped any kind of blade.  The Major thought for a second, knowing that every moment lost could be another of his men dying.  He looked over at the Sergeant at the same time that he sent a battalion wide message over his link.  “Set weapons to single shot, maximum velocity.  I know it reduces our chances of a hit, but high probability hits don’t seem to be doing anything at all.  Maybe we can damage that suit enough for us to capture her.”

“We should kill her ass,” said a nearby trooper, his gauntleted hands setting his weapon as ordered.

“She is a valuable prisoner,” said Dumas, pointing at the Marine.  “She is a lot more valuable to our cause than your sorry ass.  And I will see that the man who kills her on purpose is taken before the Inquisition.  Do I make myself clear?”

The soldier nodded his head, his face pale.  The Major looked around and saw that the rest of the Marines in sight were either nodding or looking down at their feet.  I hate to use those bastards to frighten the men, he thought, keeping a glare on his face.  But they are at least useful for something, if not their stated purpose.  And there were Inquisitors onboard the fleet, ready, willing and able to break any man or woman accused of heresy or other acts against the Church.

“Then if that is understood, let’s get to work,” said the Major, his voice rising to a roar at the end.  The men nodded again and started to move out to scour the jungle, and bring its most dangerous beast to bay.

*     *     *

Pandora knew that she was trapped, that there were red dots all around her position now.  Not really what I had planned, she thought, going through her options and only seeing one.  To cut her way out of through enemy and escape into the jungle.  Nothing to it but to do it, she thought, steeling herself, gathering her courage and pushing the fear that made her want to hide in the shadows to the background.  There would be time enough for shaking later.  Now it was time for action.

At least my friends got away, she thought as she headed for what looked like the thinnest part of the encirclement.  She had been following them on her pizzos.  They were tucked away in another cave that seemed almost too good to be true, with entrances that could only be seen when the observer was on top of it, up steep inclines from the jungle floor.

Pandora came rocketing out of the brush, her mouth forming an oh shit as soon as she saw the disposition of the Marines.  There were a dozen troopers within sight, all pointing their weapons right at her.  One had a laser, one a dedicated grenade launcher, the others mag rifles, which did not concern her as much as the two heavy weapons.

The laser tracked in on her and a few grenades burst on her armor, the majority of them missing and exploding in the jungle behind her.  She was able to get the sword in the way of the laser before it found a rent in her light amp protection.  She was headed for the laser armed trooper, readying herself to move her sword in an offensive maneuver, when something hard hit her in the right leg.  Four more heavy impacts hit her legs, then one to her arm.  A schematic of the suit came up on the HUD, showing damage to the movement elements of her limbs.  Another hit to her left leg and she was almost falling to the ground, staggering and sliding through the dirt.  They figured it out, she thought, feeling numb with the realization that she was going to fail.  Their rounds were not hard enough to penetrate the thickness of the armor, but they could cause enough damage to destroy motors, power runs and transmission lines through that armor.

Pandora put everything she had into hitting the line, her sword swinging to take the laser gunner in the side in a cross, then reversing to a backhand that killed one of the riflemen.  She burst through the line and into the brush, when two more rounds impacted her legs and the right member froze up.  With a cry she fell to the ground, ordering the armor to open on the way.  She landed on her back and pulled herself from the armor, hoping she could speed away into the brush before they got a bead on her.

She was on her feet and taking her first step when her muscles began to go slack and the world unfocused around her.  Sonics was her last clear thought as she crumpled to the ground.  She rolled over, watching the armored men walk toward her, wondering if they were going to kill her, hoping that they would.  She tried with all her strength to get up from the ground, to at least do something that would force them to kill her.  The last thing her blurry vision saw was the butt of a rifle descending toward her face.  Then total blackness and the void.

*     *     *

“Good work,” said Major Dronning Dumas, looking down on the unconscious form of the woman.  She is beautiful, he thought, taking in the red hair and classic features.  Then he noticed the large bruise on her forehead that was deepening on her fair skin as he watched.  “What happened there?” he asked, pointing at the bruise.

“Don’t know sir,” said the Senior Sergeant that had led the capture.  “She must have hit something when she fell.”

“What’s the verdict?” he asked the medic who was kneeling beside the woman, running a scanner over her slim form.  He shot a look at the Sergeant to let the man know there would be hell to pay if the prisoner was brain damaged.

“She will be fine,” said the man, looking up from the scanner with a smiling face.  “Maybe a concussion.  But nothing we can’t clear up in a medical bay in a couple of hours.”

The Senior Sergeant let out a breath of relief, and the Major glared back at him for a moment, letting the man know this incident would not be forgotten.  But how do I expect them to act when she killed so many of their mess mates.  I’m lucky they didn’t accidentally shoot her.  He looked over at another Sergeant and nodded his head.

The Sergeant held a rifle with a bulbous attachment on the front of the barrel.  He pulled the trigger and played the emission over the woman’s body, starting at the head and working down to the toes, then moving back up to the crown of the head.  “That should do it,” said the man with a grin.  “If she had any nanites in her they’re dead now.  And I don’t think any implants she has will be functioning either.”

If she only had our tech I would believe the last part, thought the Major, nodding his head, then looking at the two troopers with a gurney.  But she has the tech of the Donut, so there’s no telling how well shielded her implants are.

The men picked the woman up and put her on the gurney, not bothering to be gentle with someone they saw as a mass murderer of their people.  They picked up the gurney and a six man guard formed around them.

“Make sure that she gets back to the landing field in one piece,” said Major Dumas to the NCO in charge.  “I hold all of you responsible for her safety.  Understood?”

Nodding heads and shouted answers let the Major know that they knew what was expected of them, and they knew there would be hell to pay if they didn’t get her back to the ship alive and ready to answer questions.  Questions he was sure she would answer once she was introduced to the Inquisitors.

“You men get her armor back to the field,” said the Major to another quartet of troopers that stood by with another, heavier gurney.  The men went to work picking up the suit and securing it to the carryall.

“What about this?” asked an NCO, holding the strange curved sword the woman had used so effectively against them.  He put an armored finger against the blade.

“Don’t,” yelled Dumas, too late, as the edge cut through the armor covered finger, which dropped to the ground, while the NCO cried out and the sword fell from his other hand.

“Look after him, doc,” said the Major as he bent down to pick up the blade carefully by the hilt.  He looked at the sword in wonder for a moment, recognizing that this was technology on a level with the suit.  He looked over at the suit that was now on the carryall and saw what he was looking for, the sheath that the wonder weapon had been carried in.  For a moment he was tempted to take that sheath and keep the sword, but thought better of it after that moment.  This was something the R & D people needed to look at.  With regret he carried the sword to the woman’s armored suit and carefully sheathed it.

“Get that thing back to the landing field,” he told a corporal who was in charge of that detail.  “Make sure it gets on a shuttle up to the flagship.”

Dumas turned away and looked at the dead who were being piled up in the clearing for eventual extraction.  He had paid a heavy price for the woman and her equipment.  He hoped it was worth it, and that the glory would come back to him.

*     *     *

Watcher woke in a daze, the fogginess of a concussion in his awareness as he attempted to focus on the here and now.  I should keep the damned helmet on my head when in a combat situation, he thought, trying to focus through blurry eyes on the situation.  He looked down at the matrix battery box that was lying on the floor, his hand reaching up to rub the knot on his crown.  Definitely need to keep that helmet on my head.

He noted that his three remaining vehicles were now twenty kilometers from the place they had been when the near explosion had almost flipped his tank and sent the box into his head, and his head into the hard inner hull of the vehicle.  Maybe we should put some padding in here as well, he thought, feeling his mind start to clear.  He knew whatever damage had been done would be quickly repaired by his nanites.  But maybe making sure such damage would not be done in the future would also be a good idea.

So they are still back there bombing the jungle, he thought, watching on his sat pickup as the aircraft circled over the area dropping their explosives.  As he watched one squadron of aircraft circled out while another moved in to keep up the bombing.  Scaring the hell out of some wildlife, he thought, a smile on his face.  The smile fled when he saw some transport airships come into the picture and hover over the bombed out jungle.  Armored men dropped from the transports and fell slowly to the ground.  Now they’re searching for me, he thought, getting his small command moving again.  Well, they can look all they want, maybe even get some scraps from the other tanks, but I will be elsewhere.

His head was feeling much better as he moved through the jungle, determined to stay on the floor for the next couple of hours despite the time it took.  He wouldn’t do Pandora any good dying in an attack.  He also thought of what other aid he might be able to get here on the planet, and sent a signal back through the pyramid to the Donut.  Soon he would go back up into the high canopy, and hopefully make much better time, if he could avoid attention.

*     *     *

Pandora woke to a splitting headache and confusion.  Her last memory was of the rifle butt coming down on her, and she knew that it had struck her in the head.  Fortunately her bionanites had done yeoman’s work in repairing the damage.  She kept her eyes closed, not wanting to give away that she was conscious to the people carrying her on the swaying gurney.  She checked her systems and was surprised to find that some things weren’t working.  Her internal implants were still functional, with the exception of her com link and her internal processing module.  But most surprising was the lack of response from her mechanical nanites.  They were all off line, to a one.

They must have hosed me down with EMP, she thought.  That was the only explanation.  Her bionanite systems were still intact, which was a plus, but the little guys, controlled by her glandular system, were really not of much use for anything other than repairing cellular damage and enhancing her immune and filtration systems.  Except they can take apart mechanical nanites and rebuild them.  With a thought she triggered the hormones that would give the bios their instructions.  It wouldn’t be long before she had functional mechanonanites again in her system, which could build more, until she had what she needed.

“She’s awake,” said one of the men around her as they put her gurney down.  “I saw her eyes twitch.”

“Open your eyes, bitch,” said one of the men, nudging her in the side.  “I said, open your eyes,” repeated the same man, kicking her in earnest, and drawing an involuntary grunt from the woman.

Pandora opened her eyes to look at five or six men, all glaring down at her as they removed their armor.  They were in the darkened space of what had to be one of the surviving buildings on the Suryan landing field.  I really don’t like the look of this¸ she thought of what appeared to be an ensuing gang rape.  The men continued to strip to their undergarments, then open up their pants, pulling their penises into view.

The woman knew that she didn’t have to worry about STDs or pregnancy, thanks to her bionanite system.  That didn’t mean she was looking forward to this, or that she would just let it happen.  She pulled hard against the plastic restraints that held her hands in front of her.  At least they have to take the damned things off my ankles, she thought, hoping that she was correct in that respect.

“We’re really going to enjoy this you bitch,” said the man who looked like the senior of the group.  “Maybe you’ll enjoy it too.”

Fat chance, thought Pandora, watching as the man moved to her ankles with a knife in hand and a wicked smile on his face.

“We shouldn’t be doing this, Sergeant,” said one of the younger troopers.  “I mean, the Major said he wanted her delivered intact.  And they got to be waiting for us at the landing field.”

“Shut up, youngster,” said the Sergeant, slicing through the ankle restraints while looking at Pandi with a leer.  “If you don’t want any of this prime female, get your ass outside and keep watch with Stephanis.”

The man stood up, his erection sticking out of the opening of his pants.  He started to bend over, his hands reaching for Pandi’s pants, his intentions clear.

Watcher had insisted that Pandora accept biological augmentation if she were to go traipsing around the Supersytem, and eventually beyond.  Her life span had been quintupled as a result of those modifications, which was the best of the long term benefits.  But her biological efficiency had been more than doubled as well.  She was faster and stronger than before the aug work.  Her body processed food much more efficiently, and manufactured ATP through a greater number of more efficient mitochondria.  Her bones were harder, much more resistant to breaking.  In her own time she would have been considered an athletic freak, if not a superwoman.  And Watcher had insisted that she learn how to use that body to cause maximum mayhem to anyone who threatened her.

The Sergeant grabbed the top of her bodysuit pants, worked them free of the top, and pulled, sliding them over her thighs, revealing her legs and panties.  He continued sliding them down and over her feet, then threw the pants to the side.  “Wonder what’s under here,” he said, reaching for her panties.

If you don’t know what’s under there you’re a moron, thought Pandi, her eyes locked on his erection.  They were only locked there because that would be her first target.

Pandora brought both of her rear limbs back in a blur, cocking both legs, then shooting the left foot into the groin of the Sergeant.  He woofed out his air and crumpled over, and her right leg pushed her heel into his face.  The man fell backwards, hands still reaching for his groin despite his lack of consciousness.  While the Sergeant fell over onto his back Pandi brought both legs up and kicked herself to an upright position, her eyes searching and prioritizing targets as she landed on her feet, staying in a crouch.

To her senses the people around her were moving in slow motion, like drunks in a bar fight.  The closest one to her became the first target, and she leaned over and sent a side kick into that man’s stomach, followed by a snap kick to his groin.  He won’t be thinking about taking any pussy for a while, she thought as the man fell to the ground, grabbing his groin.  She spun into a roundhouse kick that caught the next man in the jaw, then swung her linked hands into the face of a fourth, knocking him from his feet and into the wall.

I better watch it, she thought, throwing a spin kicked that missed her target and made her land on her feet unbalanced.  She continued the motion, using momentum to regain balance as her rear leg came around in a spinning hook kick to catch a man in the side.  She sent a snap kick to his groin, her favorite target at the moment, then turned and snapped a kick into the knee of a charging man.  The man screamed, and she sent a side kick into his face, then stomach, then back to his knee as she jumped in the air to bring her whole body weight onto the thigh above the joint.  She felt and heard a satisfying crack followed by a scream that told her the knee joint was destroyed.

Pandi jumped over the falling form of her last victim, pulling outward with her hands and trying to break the bonds.  The plastic stretched just a bit and then clamped back down, and she knew she wouldn’t be breaking that handcuff anytime soon.

“Get her,” yelled one of the men still on his feet.

“Get her?” called back another man in a panicked voice.  “How we gonna stop her from getting us?”

A shot cracked by Pandora’s ear, and she spun around, anticipating a round that would take her down.  Instead she saw two men wrestling over a mag pistol.  “We’re supposed to bring her in alive,” yelled the man who wasn’t holding the pistol in his hands.

“The hell with that,” yelled the other man.  “We fuck around and she’s going to kill us all.”

Pandi looked toward the door, turning and starting to sprint toward it, hands reaching out to grab the handle.  She didn’t know what waited on the other side, an empty space between buildings, or a drill square full of men.  She only knew she didn’t want to be here, and her only hope was to get out of this room and run like hell.

Shit, she thought, as the vibrations of a sonic stunner played over her.  Her muscles relaxed to the point where they would not hold her weight, and her body slid to the ground.  Her vision blurred and consciousness left, her last thought that she would wake in a place a whole lot worse than this.

Chapter Fourteen

Do your duty in all things.  You cannot do more, you should never wish to do less.

Robert E. Lee

Pandora woke up with pain shooting through every part of her body.  Not woke up, she thought.  Come to.  She could feel the drugs in her system, and was sure they had shot her up with things meant to sedate her and break her resistance to questioning.  Good luck with that last, she thought, a thin smile crossing her face.  She had been conditioned to resist any such efforts depending on drugs or mind probes.

She concentrated through the drugs to her pain, assessing her injuries.  Her face hurt all the way to the back of her skull, and she had a vague recollection of a rifle butt coming toward her, again.  The sore ribs must have been from getting kicked multiple times, and the sharp pain that came with each breath would of course be caused by one or more broken bones in her rib cage.  And the pain between her legs could only come from a forcible rape.  She felt her stomach flip over at that thought, of men using her against her will, taking out their anger and hate on her.  At least I won’t get pregnant from any fanatic SOB’s semen, she thought, almost exulting in the thought of her bionanites attacking and killing the little things the men had put in her body.  And when I find you I’m going to kill you, was her next thought.  She repeated a calming mantra in her head, ignoring the pain of her hurts and getting to a place that she needed to be, a place where she could think and plan.

The woman spent the next couple of minutes taking stock of her situation.  She was lying on a table, her naked back pressed against cold metal.  Her ankles and wrists were pinioned in tight manacles that were attached to the table.  There didn’t appear to be any way to escape this situation, but Watcher had taught her that most cages had a way out, if one thought and searched.  Next she assessed her internal systems through her implant.  There was no permanent damage to her body.  The neurons in her brain were knitting well, and the last effects of the concussions would be gone in an hour or so.  The bionanites were also hard at work on her ribs, and thankfully nothing had been displaced to the point where reknitting the bones would cause any kind of temporary deformity that might affect her ability to move.

And she had mechanonanites back in her system, rebuilt by the bionanites.  Some were at work repairing her central implants, which would be back to full functionality within the hour.  Others were working hard to rehabilitate all the nanites that had been knocked flat by the EMP that had been played over her body on the planet.  With a thought she sent a command from the working parts of her implants to those nanites to manufacture new brothers, then to perform a covert mission.  That’s as much as I can do, she thought, saying the calming mantra again in her mind.  Have to see if the little guys can actually do what I want them to do.  She mentally smiled at that thought, remembering how when she had first come aboard the Donut the thought of nanoscale robots crawling around in her brain and body horrified her.  Now she didn’t know how she would get by without the little guys.

“So this is the woman who has given us so much trouble,” said a voice that sounded familiar, if only from vids she had watched.

“And she’s awake,” said another, rougher voice.  “Aren’t you, you bitch?  You can’t fool us, so you might as well open your eyes.”

Pandora really didn’t want to open her eyes.  She knew she possessed courage beyond that of most people.  Hell, you had to be brave to go into space in her time, where so many things could kill.  She knew she was facing torture here, whether from actual physical damage or from nerve induction.  Pain was not something she looked forward to.  But it’s not going to just go away because I keep my eyes shut.  So she opened them to look on an older man in a black uniform, starbursts on his collar, glaring down at her with a frown on his face.  Standing next to him was a leering dwarf of a man in black robes, the closed fist symbol of the Church of Humanity on his breast.

“Miklas Gerasi, I assume,” said Pandi in her best soft drawl.

“You know me?” asked the man, curiosity in his voice.

“Only from vids of your conversations with Watcher,” said the woman, letting a smile creep over her face.  “He expressed a much greater interest in meeting with you one day.  I am sure his interest will be even greater once he learns what you’ve done with me.”

“I am thinking that he might give us what he wants in return for his whore,” said the Admiral, a slight cruel smile on his lips.

“Then you don’t know the man very well,” said Pandi, knowing that she spoke the truth.  “He is more the avenging type than the negotiator.”  And Watcher would do anything he could do to get her back, except selling out his station.

And the cruel smile left the man’s lips, to be replaced by another frown.  He turned to the dwarf and nodded.  The dwarf whispered into a link and the door behind him opened, to admit more robed men pushing a cart with all kinds of evil looking devices on it.

*     *     *

Miklas Gerasi looked down at the naked form of the woman on the table and could understand why some of his Marines had lusted after her.  She’s beautiful, he thought, even banged and bruised up as she is.  He felt a twinge of guilt thinking lustful thoughts about this unclean woman, while his wife and children waited for him back in the home system.  But he was after all a man, and so expected to respond to his God given feelings.  If the priests of the Inquisition didn’t have to make too much of a mess here he might still be tempted to force himself upon her.  But only if she is still restrained, he thought.  No use letting her have a shot at taking his life, something, from what he had heard, she was all too capable of.

He thought back to the report he had received about what she had done to those men tasked with getting her to the landing field.  Three were seriously injured.  The five who weren’t were undergoing the tender ministrations of other inquisitors, something the other three would also enjoy when they got of sick bay.

“If he will not negotiate for you, maybe you will,” he told the woman, still angry at the mention of the Abomination who controlled the station that should be his people’s by right of heritage.  The old Empire was a human organization, even if they did kowtow to the aliens on too many occasions.  And his was the mightiest of the rising human kingdoms in this part of the Galaxy.

“And just what do you want out of me,” said the woman in that lilting tone that fascinated Gerasi.

The woman out of time, he thought, his eyes roaming her form.  Back from when before we left the home system, and people still fought people.  Primitives all, thought the Admiral, not even recognizing that his Nation was fighting another human power at this time.  But she had learned the secrets of the station from the Abomination, and now saw his people as the primitives.  And sided with the kingdom they were at war with.  “We want the secrets of the station,” he said, looking into her eyes.  “We want to know what the code is to get on the station, past its defenses.  And we want access to the computer that controls the station, so we can get the tech we deserve.”

“You fuckers don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” said the woman, a sneer on her lips even as her eyes showed her fear.  “You don’t deserve nothing on that station, and Watcher sure isn’t going to give it to you.”

“We want that code, and you will give it to us,” said the Admiral, certainty in his voice.  “We can keep you alive as long as needed, while you feel pain like never before.”

“Wanna bet,” said the woman, her eyes still wide, but her lips curving into a smile.

“Do whatever needs to be done,” said the Admiral, looking over at the dwarfish Priest.  “But get us the information that we need.”

“Yes, my Lord,” said the man, a cruel smile on his face.  The man nodded and the other priests wheeled the instruments over.

Gerasi glared at the woman for a moment, then turned and walked from the room.  Much as he wanted to see the bitch punished, he still did not have the stomach to watch an actual interrogation.  Once was enough, as far as he was concerned.

*     *     *

Pandora watched the Admiral leave the chamber, then all of her attention was fixed on the robed men gathered around the table, looking down at her with cold, predatory eyes.  She glanced over at the instruments and felt an involuntary shudder run down her body.  She had told the truth when she challenged the Admiral on what kind of torture she had endured.  The pain induction field that Vengeance had subjected her to on the Donut was the most excruciating agony imaginable.  But these men would be subjecting her to an extended session of torture, and she really didn’t know how long she could hold out under such.

“This will not be pleasant,” said the dwarf, a broad smile on his face.  “For you, that is.  For us it will be most enjoyable.”

Pandi shuddered again, and she knew these men could smell the fear on her.  She closed her eyes and said a calming mantra, at the same time sending an order through her implants, hoping that maybe the nanites could close down some of her pain pathways.  In theory she knew that they could.  In practice?  She just didn’t know.

“None of that,” said the dwarf, touching her left breast with something cold and hard.  The cold turned instantly to super-cold, burning the tender flesh of the breast.

Pandi opened her eyes and bit back a scream, looking at the burn on her flesh.  The Inquisitor kept the object in place for a moment, letting the severe cold burn deeper.

“You’re a strong one,” said the dwarf, removing the torture device.  “It does not matter.  Nothing matters in the end.  You will tell us what we want.”

“And what the hell do you want?” asked Pandi through clenched teeth.

“Your codes for the Donut,” said the man, looking at the cold burn with a satisfied smirk.

“There ain’t no damned codes,” said Pandi, spitting out each word as she tried to keep the scream from coming.  The pain was abating a bit, and she was sure her nanites were doing yeoman’s work damping the nerves.  “We have to transmit a signal through our implants that lets it recognize an authorized user.  But nothing as simple as codes.”

“Then that is what we want,” said the dwarf, picking up an air syringe from his cart.  “If it can tell our computer what to transmit, then that is what we want.”

The dwarf put the syringe against Pandora’s neck and injected the contents into her carotid artery.  “Just a mixture of nanites and drugs to help you, uh, cooperate with the process.”

Pandora grimaced as she felt the contents of the syringe pushed into her artery.  You’re not going to get what you expect, she thought, wondering how she should make her face appear to fool them into thinking the concoction they had injected was working.  They obviously thought all of her nanite defenses were gone, destroyed by the men on the planet who had run the EMP over her.

The woman linked into her implant, stopping herself from sighing in relief as she saw that it was now fully functional.  With a command she set the nanites in her brain to a plan that would keep her mind her own.

Bionanites were not really nanoscale organisms.  They were slightly larger, in the realm of viruses, which still made them pretty damned small.  They now targeted the intruder nanites, like bears attacking dogs, ingesting them and ripping them apart.  The larger organelles also attacked the molecules of the drugs.  Meanwhile the implant did an analysis on the invader nanites, and duplicated their function with Pandora’s symbiotic robots.  Soon her own nanites were interfacing with the computers of the Inquisitors, feeding information into the system, while at the same time hacking in and gaining access to that computer network.

“Now we can get on with the next phase of the questioning,” said the dwarfish man, picking up another instrument, turning a dial, then placing it on Pandora’s chest between her breasts.

The pain as the electricity entered her system was unbearable.  Pandora arched her back as her muscles spasmed involuntarily, her teeth bit down, taking off the tip of her tongue, and her bladder released warm liquid that ran beneath her legs and buttocks.  The man removed the electrode, looked into her face for a moment, then pushed it back into contact with her skin.  Pandi screamed, a high piercing sound.  The dwarfish man removed the electrode once again and looked into her face.

Pandi tried to glare back, while pulling in breath through a snot filled nose, tears running from her eyes.  Her mind cringed as she thought about going through hours of this.  One of the other Inquisitors was looking at a comp screen, and he looked over at the chief torturer and shook his head.

The man gave her a sad look, then touched the electrode back to her chest.  Snot flew from Pandora’s nose again and she screamed, pushing all the air out of her lungs until there was no more.  The Inquisitor removed the electrode and Pandi fell back to the table as her muscles relaxed, her chest heaving as she tried to bring enough air into her lungs.

“We can do this for hours,” said the man, nodding to a subordinate who ran a wet cloth over her forehead, then cleaned up the rest of her face.  “Why put yourself through this, when you know we will get what we want at the end.”

“She seems to be resistant to our drugs,” said the Inquisitor who was watching the computer screen.  “I don’t know how that is possible.”

“Because her tech base is so much more advanced than ours,” said the Chief, who then smiled at the woman.  “Our drugs are probably primitive compared to what they have on that station, and I think she has been conditioned to resist even them.”

The man looked over at the table of instruments, his hand reaching out and touching, then grabbing, another device that looked similar to the freezing unit.  “Maybe pain is not the total answer,” said the man in a soft, almost caressing voice.  “You are a beautiful woman, desirable, even to that Abomination you call a lover.  Perhaps he will not desire you so much when you are a scarred, pitiful creature.”

The inquisitor flipped on the device and pressed it to Pandora’s right breast, the one that had not been scarred by the cold.  The smell of burning flesh reached her nostrils at about the same time the pain came through the nerve damp that her nanites were administering.  It was excruciating, though she knew not as bad as it would have been without the nanites.  What was worse was watching the probe burn its way into her tender flesh, deep into the breast.  The man moved the probe and burned off her nipple, then pushed it back down.

“Bastard,” she yelled, putting more pain into the yell than there really was, which was not really such a stretch.

“Give us the code, or I promise you that you will be a woman no man will ever desire.  Ever again.”

Liar, she thought, knowing she had to hold out at least a little while longer.  Knowing that once on the station she could have all of the damage they were doing repaired.  That’s what her rational mind was telling her.  Her emotional mind was crying over the damage that was being done to her body.  It was telling her she was going to be a hideous cripple for the rest of her life.  Lair, she thought again, this time at her own mind.  That’s what they want you to think.  She closed her eyes and shook her head, trying to clear the emotion laden thoughts out, and only allow the rational to take hold.

A sharp pain in her left hand forced her eyes open, and she stared in horror at her pinky finger, held up in the pincers that had taken it off.  She took a shuddering breath, fighting back the fear that was about to again overwhelm her.  And at that moment the heat probe struck at her inner thighs, burning into the flesh just below her privates, sending a wave of excruciating pain rolling up her nerves before the nanites could initiate a block.  Pandora sputtered and ejected more snot from her nose, clamping her jaws shut, then fading into blackness.

*     *     *

“She is very strong, this one,” said the Chief Inquisitor over the com link.

“Take your time,” said the Admiral, looking at the burned and bleeding form of the woman strapped to the table.  “We don’t need the information this day, but we will need it.  And don’t worry about what shape she is in at the end.  We are planning to just space her body anyway.  Maybe that will cause the Abomination to make a mistake out of anger.”  Or attack us in a great rage and wipe us from the Universe.  It was a risk either way, but Gerasi was determined to strike at the Abomination somehow.

Chapter Fifteen

Watcher was developed to be the ultimate soldier.  But once it was discovered how frighteningly intelligent he was even the military wanted nothing to do with him.  It is surprising how generals and admirals have strong opinions about the intelligence of subordinates, and how a brilliant underling is seen as a threat by the ruling class of the Military Establishment.   Journal of the Watcher Project

Watcher stood on the branch of the tree he had levitated up to, looking out over the broad river valley to his front.  He had decided an hour earlier to take to the upper canopies again, banking on the enemy not knowing where he was.  But now he had this river ahead that at its narrowest was at least ten kilometers, a narrow he would have to cross if he didn’t want to detour far out of his way.

The wind rustled through the leaves of the tree, and the leaves turned to allow the wind to carry away heat.  Amazing ecology, thought Watcher, looking at the leaves that were actually exothermic sugar factories.  In an extra billion years of evolution Maurid life had branched off much further on the evolutionary scale than did Earth forms, and plants and animals were much more closely related than they were in terrestrial ecologies.  Plants had fibrous muscles, some more than others, while animals were able to gain some energy from light.  Maybe not enough to survive, but enough to aid them in survival.

But of most interest to Watcher was the shielding effect the jungle had on heat emitters.  Vehicles under the canopy were invisible to infrared sensors in air or space, both because the heat production of the plants, and the heat absorption/reflection of the leaves.  But when he was over the cold water of the river things would be different.  Unless, he thought, stepping from the branch and lowering himself to his tank on his grabber units.

His audio pickups told him something was moving through the air some distance away, toward that river.  Watcher reversed course, back to his perch, his HUD zooming in on some objects moving through the center of the valley.  He cursed as he recognized the atmospheric fighters that had given him so much trouble five hundred kilometers back.  Cursed while remembering that he had prepared for just this eventuality.

Watcher hadn’t thought of aircraft when he had planned this mission.  Spacecraft yes, and things looking down from the orbitals.  But not old fashioned, well really high tech, aircraft that could swoop low to attack or fly high to recon equally well.

Two of the craft flew directly over the river, while each had a wing man over the jungle on either side.  It made sense they would patrol this waterway, as this valley was directly on his path from where they had spotted him previously, and where they knew he wanted to go.  He had detoured a little north before progressing again in this direction, but they would have taken that into account as a possible course.

One of the fighters banked to the right and straightened out in a path that would take it near his position.  Watcher moved back into the foliage, making sure that his suit was only radiating on the same strength and frequency as that of the surrounding vegetation, at the same time radiating the excess heat back into the jungle.  He zoomed in on the approaching fighter with his HUD, sprouting a smaller screen that showed its path over the terrain in relation to his position.  It was going to come close, but nowhere near an overflight.  It roared over the jungle inland of Watcher, moving just a little over the speed of sound, and passed.  Watcher switched his view to his orbital microsats and scanned the area.

“Shit,” he cursed as the number of aircraft registered on his sweep.  They were of course stealthed to the best of their tech’s ability.  But not good enough to escape his when he actually looked for them.  He counted about eighty aircraft within a two hundred kilometer radius of his area along a two hundred degree arch.  From that he estimated that the Nations must have deployed over two hundred aircraft, which was probably an underestimate.  He didn’t see how or why they had taken that many atmospheric craft with them on their ships, though he had to admit each could carry a couple of squadrons stowed away without too much trouble.  But they were liable to cause him trouble unless he did something drastic.  With that thought he was back at his tank, contacting the bots that had flown to him from the pyramid, getting them ready for the next phase of the operation.

*     *     *

The small robot scanned the skies as it used it scramjet propulsion to move through the air.  Its sensors picked up the target it had been programmed to seek, and the robot increased speed and changed course until it was coming up behind the Nation fighter.  The robot was giving off very little heat with its advanced engines, and its five centimeter length and stealth construction gave back no return to the less advanced sensor tech of the enemy aircraft.

The robot maneuvered in close and came to a soft landing on the skin of the aircraft, its legs bonding with the alloy they sat upon.  A small laser bored into the hull, then a proboscis extended into the hole.  With a jet of air the package was delivered, and soon microbots were swarming through the inside of the aircraft, heading for their targets, where they delivered their nanobot cargos.  The delivery robot dissolved its attachments to the hull and fell off, dropping the kilometers back to the ground.  Meanwhile the nanobots went to work, first making more of their kind, then attacking the systems of the aircraft.

*     *     *

Watcher sat in his tank, leaning out of the top hatch, while his suit HUD kept him apprised of what was going on.  The river stretched ahead, his vehicles back from it fifty meters into the foliage.  He could see a gleam of sunlight on water here and there through the growth.  The timer on the HUD counted down, until it hit zero, the moment the nanites were supposed to work their magic.

*     *     *

Senior Pilot Skyler Kane looked out of his canopy on the red and orange tinted world below.  It’s beautiful, he thought, a lush growth like nothing they had at home, where population had just about overrun resources.  He had also seen some flying creatures that seemed almost too big to take wing, then remembered that the oxygen level out there was much higher than on his homeworld, again thanks to all that vegetation.  He had been flying too fast for the flyers to do more than get a quick look at him, and even if he had been going low and slow they would have been insane to have tackled anything as big as his fighter.

The river glinted below in the sunlight as he banked his fighter into a turn.  His eyes scanned the length of the waterway at the same time as his sensors reported nothing unusual.  He straightened the fighter out and cruised at three thousand meters over the water, heading for his next checkpoint.

The flashing red lights on his instrument panel were the first indication that something was wrong.  The engines dying with a rattle was the next.  The pilot tried to call up his onboard computer to get an idea of what the malfunction was, but the AI did not respond to his queries.

“What the fuck,” he cried as the nose of the aircraft started to tilt down.  He pulled hard at his stick, which had seemed to go dead in his hand.  The fly by wire system must be out, he thought, struggling to pull the aircraft up and into a glide by shear strength.  But no matter how hard he pulled, the stick would not come back.  The nose of the aircraft soon pointed straight down, and the plane was in a dive from which he would not be able pull her out of.

Normally the computer would be yelling at him to pull up, but it was completely missing in action.  The altimeter went through a thousand meters of distance at an alarming rate, and Kane made a snap decision.  With the pull of a lever the canopy blew off.  A second later the seat blew out of the aircraft, then separated from the pilot.  A moment later the parachute opened and the pilot was swinging beneath the shroud lines, the river below.  He pulled on the lines and started his move away from the center of the water, aiming for the shallows.  That jungle was said to be deadly, and he didn’t want his introduction to it to be a drop while banging against the trunks of large trees.  He was also pretty sure that the river would hold things he didn’t want to meet, but he liked his odds in the shallows better than in the orange and red canopy below.

As he watched another fighter slapped nose first into the river and disappeared from sight.  Kane said a prayer to the God he worshipped as he saw that the canopy was still intact on that aircraft, meaning the pilot had ridden it into the drink.  Nothing surfaced, and Kane said another prayer, before turning his attention to the water coming up below.

He splashed down into that water, about twenty meters from the shore.  His suit kept him dry, but was also trying to pull him under.  Kane hit the chute release and unburdened himself of the waterlogged equipment, then hit the buoyancy control and inflated his vest.  He looked toward the shore, making sure that his survival pack was attached to his suit.  A bubbling noise caught his attention, and he turned outward to see something big disturbing the water, the pattern moving toward his position.  He turned and started toward the shore as fast as he could swim.  It was not a race he would win.

*     *     *

“What the hell,” said the tech in a loud voice.

Admiral Miklas Gerasi turned to the sound of the voice, wondering what was going wrong this time.  “What do you have, Ensign?” he asked, getting up from his chair and walking with quick steps toward the officer’s station.

“We lost contact with all of our aircraft over the large river valley,” said the young officer, looking at the Admiral with bewildered eyes.  “Then they all started to drop from the sky.”

“At the same time?” asked the Admiral, his own eyes widening.

“As close to it as to make no difference, sir,” said the officer, looking back at his screen and pushing tabs on his touch-board.

“Any idea what happened?”

“I don’t have a clue, sir,” said the young man, shrugging his shoulders.  “We have no indication of EMP or light amp, no vids of missiles.  They just went off the air, and then they fell.”

“The Abomination did something,” said one of the other officers.  “That’s the only explanation.”

“And he had to have a reason for knocking down the aircraft in that sector,” said Gerasi, looking over at a larger screen that was showing the river valley.  “Like he wants to cross that river without us seeing him.  Can we bring that river under fire?”

“If we could see him,” said the Tactical Officer, nodding his head.  “But I would bet my life he will be hard to find.”

“But we can look,” yelled the Admiral, looking from Tactical to Sensory Officer.

Suddenly the screen looking over the river valley erupted with static.  The river was still visible, but the picture was so degraded there was little chance of seeing a trio of stealthed objects crossing that water.  The Admiral cursed and threw his hands in the air, wondering why his God had tasked him so.

The Admiral looked over at another officer, a Lt. Commander in charge of flight operations.  “Get every plane you can over that valley, right now.”  He turned to his Marine Liaison Officer.  “Do we have any boats you could put on that river?”

“There are none in the area,” said the officer after a moment’s thought.  “We could probably get some there within a half an hour.  But I don’t think he will still be there.”

“Are there any other rivers in his path where they might be of some use? asked the Admiral, walking over to the main viewer, which was now showing a map of the region in question in lieu of the useless live feed.  “What about this one here,” he said, his finger pointing to one about a hundred and fifty kilometers from the river the Abomination had to be crossing at this moment.

“It’s not as big as the other one,” said the Flight Operations Officer.  “Only two hundred meters across on average.”

“Still a chance to stop him,” shouted the Admiral, glaring at the officer, then looking over at the Marine Liaison.  “Get some damned patrol boats on that river right away.  We might be able to stop him, with a little luck.”  And luck was not something we’ve had a great run on, thought the Admiral, shaking his head.  “Just get those boats there, and reaction teams in transports.”  You may be a devil, he thought of the bald, wide browed creature that haunted the nightmares of his people.  But we have God on our side.  And who can stand against us, when God is for us.

*     *     *

Watcher scanned the river for a moment from the edge, still back from the foliage.  A large crocodilian type of creature, in the ten ton range, was gulping down one of the pilots who had landed in the water on the other side of the broad river.  He felt a little bit of guilt at having dropped the man to his death into the belly of a predator, and so many of his fellows to an end in crashing airplanes.  When he was Vengeance he had been responsible for so many deaths, in the trillions.  Even though he knew he had not really been responsible for those killings he still felt guilty.  And now, even when he had to kill, he regretted the necessity.  But he also knew he had to get to Pandora before it was too late, if it wasn’t already, and these men were in his way.

Watcher dropped down into the tank, the hatch closing behind him.  With a thought the tank crashed out of the last ten meters of jungle and slid down the bank of the river, the other two spreading out to either side.  They entered the river and went under, their weight sinking them to the bottom, from which they rolled along several centimeters above the mud on their antigrav lifters.  Something big bumped the tank Watcher was riding in, followed by several other bumps, and the super being viewed the huge crocodilians knocking their bodies against the unknown objects rolling along the bottom of their turf.

This went on for some minutes, and the tanks were almost all the way across when the crocodilians gave up.  The tanks rolled up the slope and broke the water while Watcher kept a close watch on any aircraft that might be entering the valley.  With no sign of the enemy the tanks rose out of the river and into the jungle beyond.

Watcher checked his map and decided to angle north, and take advantage of a natural pass that pierced the mountains while retaining plenty of cover.  He checked the time in his head and cursed himself once again.  It was not something he could help.  He needed to get to his woman, but being destroyed along the way would not help either of them.  Patience, he thought, trying to relax back into his commander’s chair.  He smiled an evil smile, the long dead spirit of Vengeance manifesting within him for a moment.  When the time came he would do what he had to do, and maybe even enjoy it in the moment.

Chapter Sixteen

Never take counsel of your fears.   Stonewall Jackson

Pandora had never felt such pain in her life.  Even the induction field that Vengeance had used on her had not caused this much agony.  She knew that was theoretically impossible.  There should have been no greater pain than direct induction of pain nerves.  But there had to be a psychological component to seeing the actual physical damage to your own body.  Pandora knew she could be repaired, but still, seeing her breasts burned to stubs and one of her hands crippled by the loss of two fingers, not to mention all the cuts and burns all over her body, were almost more than she could take.  And laying in her own urine and feces made her feel degraded like nothing she had ever been through, like she was a helpless child dependent on others to clean her, and these others had no interest in that.

Dear Jesus, she thought as she watched the Inquisitor pick up another instrument from the nearby table; give me the strength to resist.  She was not sure why she was praying to the Savior she had rejected so many years ago (or was that so many tens of thousands of years), the Savior her father had preached.  She still wasn’t sure she believed in him.  Maybe it was the comfort of tradition, or the belief that nothing else could save her now.  Not her God, or science, or her lover the superman.

“All you have to do is give us the code,” said the Inquisitor, holding up the heat probe where she could see it.  The tip was glowing with a white heat that she could feel from a half meter away.  “Just transmit the code through the computer link we have established with your mind, and we will be done here.”

The link you think you have established, thought Pandi, wanting to smile and gloat at the man, to show him a sign that she was triumphant here, and knowing that to do so would spoil her plan.  But she had the connection through her own implants, not through the nanites they had injected into her brain, the ones her own system had devoured and then mimicked.

“You can go to hell, you shit head,” she said, spitting out the last words to keep herself from crying.

“Very well,” said the man, moving to where he could look at her genitalia, to the opening of her vagina.  He put a hand on that delicate flesh, rubbing a finger over her clitoris, gently, like he was trying to pleasure her.  He looked up at her with a leering smile, then brought the heat probe into line and pushed it into her opening.

The extreme pain shot up Pandora’s nerves before she could react.  She tried to clamp down with nanite nerve blocks, also realizing that to show less than great pain would tip her torturers off.  But even cutting thirty percent off the pain transmission was not enough.  Her bladder and bowels loosened again, and snot clogged her nose while her muscles arched.  The smell of burning skin reached beyond the mucous that clogged her olfactory apparatus, sending waves of nausea rolling through her as she recognized that it was her own tender flesh that had been melted away by the heat.  Please stop, she thought, while her mind sent the signal that opened the defenses of the station and its subsidiary works without her consent, her subconscious doing for her what she would not allow herself to do consciously.  And then blackness folded over her, unconsciousness taking hold.

*     *     *

“We have the code, my Lord,” called the Chief Inquisitor over the com link.  “The computer is verifying it as we speak.”

“And we will only know for sure when we have tried it out,” said the Admiral, looking at a view of the pyramid on the main viewer.

“What shall I do with the interogee?’ asked the Inquisitor, a smile on his face.

“Continue the questioning,” said the Admiral, grimacing as he looked at the body of the woman on the transmission.  “Get everything you can out of her.  But do not do anything that will end her until we make sure this code will open the doors we want opened.”

The Inquisitor nodded his head on the repeater screen, then it went blank.

So the woman out of time really has run out of time, thought the Admiral.  To have come from tens of thousands of years in the past, from the time before the ancestors left the system, before the homeworld was destroyed.  To have rejected the God of her fathers, only to fall to those who worship the same God, as he would have wanted to be worshipped.  The Admiral shook his head as he walked over to the Com Officer’s station.

“We have the pyramid on the screen, Admiral,” said the Lieutenant, looking at the ancient object centered in the viewer.

“Send the signal, and let’s see what happens,” said the Admiral, grasping the back of the officer’s seat with his hand.

The Com Officer nodded and pushed the lit tabs of the touch display.  “It’s on its way,” said the man, the tension displayed in the set of his eyes.

Who can blame him, thought the Admiral, his own hands tensing on the back of the chair.  This could be the wipe them all out signal.

“Something’s happening,” said the tech, staring at the screen.

The Admiral watched as the view zoomed in to an area of the pyramid that was clear of the vines and lianas that draped the rest of the structure.  Something was appearing there.  Something that looked like a shadow against the sun dappled surface of the structure.  It grew, and it took a moment for the Admiral to realize what it was.  “The door is opening,” he whispered while watching the entrance to the pyramid revealed.  For generations his own people had tried to open the pyramids on the worlds they occupied, with no success.  And here one was opening, and with it a possible link to the Donut.

“Get me Commodore Tisher,” ordered the Admiral, looking over at another com tech.  Eight more ships had arrived from home.  The Nation of Humanity was risking all on this venture, putting all of their starships in the Supersystem.  Home was protected by less capable interplanetary vessels and orbital fortresses.  It was a roll of the dice, but one Gerasi approved of.

“Admiral,” came the voice of the younger officer as his face appeared on the viewer.

“Tisher,” said Gerasi, walking over to look at the man eye to eye on the viewer.  “I want all of your marines at that pyramid as soon as possible, along with as many naval techs as you can spare.”

“I saw the thing opening,” said the now wide eyed flag officer.  “What are my men to do?”

“We have an opportunity to take the Donut,” said the Admiral, pointing at the pyramid on the other viewer.  “Get your men down there, and tell them to jump through whatever open wormhole they find.  If there is more than one, then send recon parties through them all, but the primary target is that station.  Understood?”

“The Donut,” stammered the man, his face paling.  “Do we dare send an invasion force there?  What about the Abomination?”

“Fool,” said Gerasi, glaring at the man.  “I dared to invade the station, and look at the benefits of technology that we reaped.  And the Abomination is not on the station, but is on this very world.  We have his woman, and he has come to rescue her.  If we strike now we can own that station.  So send your men, and keep a com link open with them.”

“Yes, sir,” said the Commodore, saluting his superior.  “The men will not like it.”

“Whether they like it or not is not my concern,” growled the Admiral.  “As long as they do their duty.  And I am sure they will like it more when we reap the rewards of that station, and they are given a share.  Gerasi out.

“Get me Midas on the another link,” he said to the com tech, then waited a minute for the face of his old flag captain and task force commander to come on the screen.  “Vilaris.  I want you to take a task force of five ships and head for the Donut with all speed.  You are to contact the marines from Task Force Tisher when you get there.”

“You’ve gotten the code?” said the other officer, a smile breaking across his face.

“Yes, we have, old friend,” said the Admiral, feeling his kinship with the other officer who saw advantage before risk.  “And I want our ships there to complete the claim.  Get under way as soon as possible.”

“Will do, Admiral,” said the Commodore.

The screen blanked and Gerasi walked back to his chair.  He had set in motion that which he had wanted to do for the last couple of years.  Now he would only have to wait.  And maybe his men on the planet could capture the Abomination, and gain access to the store of information he contained.

*     *     *

Watcher sat up in his chair and stared into space as the computer alerted him to the opening of this planet’s pyramid.  What have those primitives done? was his first thought.  They won’t know how to handle that technology.  Visions of a Galaxy at war, with the fanatical warriors of the Nation of Humanity destroying all opposition with technology thousands of years ahead of their enemies.  Of human polities, ones which may have grown to lead the Galaxy in peaceful expansion and reconsolidation, going down in defeat with their cities destroyed, their worlds laid to waste.  Of alien races hunted down, the last member destroyed, no longer contributing their distinctive cultures to the Galactic community.

And then he thought of Pandora.  One of the strongest people he had ever known.  And the probable source of the code transmission they had just used to open the pyramid.  And a cold chill ran up his spine as he thought of what must have been done to get that code out of her.  Is she already dead? he thought, the image of her smiling face in the forefront of his mind.  He thought that a distinct possibility, but not one he accepted at this time.

I should go back to the pyramid, he thought, imagining the hordes of the enemy going through the wormhole and invading the Donut.  He could change the codes, but not on remote.  He would actually have to stand in one of the control chambers and access the station computer in person, where it could verify who he was and that he was not under duress.  And since the computer couldn’t order the taking of life on its own, except when it was directly threatened, a sentient was needed to initiate the defenses that would repel the invaders.

He should turn back, so that he could get to the station and accomplish what needed to be done to keep it from the hands of fanatical killers.  That would be the smart play, the one an intelligent creature would make.  For what was any one person in comparison to the Galaxy? He had been created to be the ultimate rational being.

The image of the woman danced through his mind, and memories of their times together.  Making love in one of the arboretums.  His explaining how something worked that her science could not imagine.  His laughing at one of her silly colloquialisms.  Her laugh, her touch, her scent, all things that he treasured.

I am in love with her, he thought, images of her bent and broken from torture running through his brain.  I was created to be the ultimate rational creature, but I still have feelings.  I still am a man, a human, with wants and needs.  And Dammit, I want and need her.  His mind made up, Watcher ordered his tanks forward.  I’m cut off from the Donut by that portal.  So I’ll just have to use another one.

The river was not near as wide as the monster he had crossed earlier.  He stopped his vehicles at the edge, ten meters in, while he scanned the river with pizzos and microsats.  There was a pair of patrol boats out there, fast lean shapes with turreted guns and missile launchers to both sides of the cockpit.  From their configuration he estimated a crew of five each.  Two fighters were also in the sky overhead, as well as a troop carrier further up the waterway.  He thought again of his woman in the clutches of the fanatics, and realized he didn’t have time for any tricks like the one that had gotten him across the huge river.  Straightforward violence would have to do.

He prioritized the targets and assigned them to the robotic brains of the tanks, waiting a moment to make sure the enemy was doing what he wanted, patrolling in a predictable pattern.  “Attack,” he ordered, manning the command and control center, ready to change the orders in an instant to suit the situation.

The tanks to his left and right both moved forward, their turrets traversing to acquire targets as they sped onto the surface of the river, floating on their grabbers.  Their kinetic cannons spoke as one, sending one kilogram projectiles down the acceleration tubes and out on flat trajectories at twenty thousand meters per second.  Both watercraft were within a kilometer of the tanks.  The rounds struck faster than human minds could process, and both boats were obliterated in fiery explosions that sent debris out for kilometers in every direction.  The men were dead before they even realized they had been fired upon, and the first threats were eliminated.

The tank to the left also released a hyper-v missile that tracked in on the troop carrier twenty-two kilometers up the river.  That vehicle might have had time to track the missile for the first two seconds of its flight.  Unfortunately for the passengers and crew the first two seconds were the only two seconds, and aircraft, crew and ten marines fell in fiery ruins into the river.

Watcher’s tank elevated the secondary barrel next the kinetic cannon, tracking on one of the aircraft flying high above.  With a loud humming sound like a million angry insects a dark red beam seemed to instantaneously link the tank with the aircraft.  It was not really instantaneous, the beam was only traveling at point zero one c, a mere thirty thousand kilometers per second.  It still imparted enough kinetic and heat energy into the fighter to vaporize the center section of the craft.  Wings, tail and a portion of the nose fell out of the explosion caused by vapor trying to expand outward, and the fighter was gone before it knew what was happening.

The turret traversed again, barrel tracked, and a second beam blew another fighter out of the sky.  The tanks accelerated across the river, and Watcher fired his last shot before being swallowed up by jungle again.  All three tanks elevated their guns upward, and fired a kinetic round and a short burst of protons up into space, striking one of the enemy battleships and blasting holes in her hull.  It was a pinprick, Watcher knew, but a satisfying one.

And then the orange and red canopy was again overhead, his tanks forging back into the jungle.  Several minutes passed before there was the response he expected.  A bright flash appeared behind him, followed by a rumble through the ground and a hot wind that whipped through the foliage.  Branches fell from the air, striking the tanks and bouncing  away.  A couple of trees toppled, one hitting the leftmost tank, which shrugged it off and plowed ahead.

More flashes appeared ahead, and soon the jungle was a burning mass of vegetation.  Watcher waited a moment, letting the smoke and debris provide cover, then started going again, stealth fields on full, sticking to areas that still had some cover, until he made his way up a slope and into untouched jungle again.  That should give them something to think about, he thought, looking back at the devastated river valley on his microsat network.  That view bothered him a bit, even though he hadn’t caused the destruction, he had been the reason for it.  Pushing those feelings down he switched the view to the damaged Nation battleship, a sextet of new holes in her bow, and smiled.  He had shown that he could strike back, and the fear of the planet’s automated defense system still restricted their use of kinetics to the smaller variety, below a hundred kilotons.  And they would have to target him much better to kill him with those.

*     *     *

“We’ve lost all contact with forces in Valley Alpha Ten,” called out one of the techs on the flag bridge.

“Show me,” said Gerasi, getting up from his chair and heading for the tech’s station.  Before he took three steps another voice called out.

“Thresher reporters they are under attack.”

“From where?’ asked the Admiral, turning in mid stride to head for the other station.  He was concerned about his forces planetside.  He was more concerned for his fleet.

“From the planet,” said the tech, looking wide eyed at the Admiral.

“Could the planetary defenses be engaging us again?” asked the Captain, stepping up to the other side of the tech.  There was fear written on the man’s face, and as much as he didn’t like or respect the man, the Admiral really couldn’t blame him.

They really didn’t have a chance against those defenses.  As far as they knew they were still over the horizon from the batteries that had fired on them before, using their reactionless drive to stay in a holding position in low orbit over the area they were most interested in.  But a regiment of Marines was on the way to the pyramid that housed those batteries, and they could be in real danger.

“What is the status of the pyramid assault force?” he shouted out, looking over at another tech, who started talking into his mic, then looked back at the Fleet Commander.

“They report nothing out of the ordinary,” said the tech, a look of relief on his face.  “ETA twenty-three minutes.”

“Thresher reports they were struck by three particle beams originating from Valley Alpha Three,” said the first tech, the one who had reported the cessation of signals from the so named valley.

The Abomination, thought the Admiral, clenching his fists at his side.  He’s throwing a challenge in my face, the damned freak.  “What’s their damage?”

The tech talked for a moment, listened, then looked over at the Admiral.  “They report minimal damage to the bow.  One missile compartment opened to space, damage to one laser projector.  Six killed, unknown number of wounded.”

“We need to hit that valley,” said the Captain, looking over at the Admiral with an expression of anger.  “Blow the hell out of it.”

But we can’t hit him with a big weapon, thought the Admiral, remembering that the defenses let them get away with strikes in the ten kiloton range, then whacked them hard when they went to megatons.

“Prepare to fire three ten kiloton range weapons,” ordered the Admiral, looking over at the Fleet Tactical Officer.  “Whichever ships are in best position to deliver them.”

“You need to hit him harder than that,” yelled the Captain, his eyes wild.  “He dared to attack the children of God, and must be smitten as if from the hand of God.”

“Calm yourself, Captain,” said the Admiral, putting a hand on the man’s shoulder.  “This is a military operation, not a religious seminar.”

“You dare to blaspheme,” yelled the Captain, knocking the Admiral’s hand off his shoulder.  “You dare say that God is not involved in this campaign.”

It’s my experience that God lets men settle their own affairs, thought the Admiral, looking into the Captain’s eyes and seeing only madness.  “Sergeant,” he said, looking over at a Marine who was standing guard on the bridge.  “Please escort the Captain to his quarters.”  He looked into the Captain’s eyes and spoke as if to a child.  “You are relieved of duty, Captain.  Please go with the Sergeant.”

Gerasi really expected the man to protest, or to fight back.  But the Captain looked like a man defeated, nodding his head and following the Marine from the bridge.

“Thresher reports they have been hit again,” yelled a tech.

“Particle beams again?” asked the Admiral, running over to the station.

“No, sir,” said the tech.  “Kinetic rounds.  Again minimal damage.”

And they must have been fired at the same time as the particle beams, with a much greater flight time, thought the Admiral.  And the Abomination is again under cover, escaped while we debated.

“Porpoise is firing a kinetic round,” called out a tech.  “Sea Sanke is also firing.”

And we’ll hit nothing, while he escapes us again, to strike again, thought the Admiral.  All this for a woman?  And he will not even get her.  He will deliver himself to us eventually, and we will remove that which should never have been made from the Universe.

*     *     *

The ground rumbled underfoot, and dust fell from the ceiling of the cavern.  A second later the ground rumbled again, then again a moment later.

“They’re’ dropping kinetic weapons again,” said Lt. Commander Dasha Mandrake, staring at the stalactite covered ceiling above.

Fleet Admiral Nagara Krishnamurta looked up as well, wondering if some of those rock spears might come down, causing more casualties among his small command.  “At least they are not targeting us,” he said, looking at the holo the robot was projecting that was giving the take of the pizzos Pandora had left for their use.  The view showed a squad of Nation Marines sweeping through the jungle, then switched to some climbing the slope of a hill.  So far they had not found an entrance to this cavern complex that they couldn’t even  suspect existed.

“Why do you say that, sir?” asked the Commander, looking at the holo.

“Because, as murderous as they are, I don’t think even those fanatics would be dropping KE weapons on their own people.  And those hits had to be at some distance.”  And I wonder who they are attacking.  Hopefully not the Latham woman.  And if so, I pray to the Gods she can keep out of the line of fire.

Chapter Seventeen

Racism springs from the lie that certain human beings are less than fully human.  It's a self-centered falsehood that corrupts our minds into believing we are right to treat others as we would not want to be treated.   Alveda King

“Ah, she is regaining consciousness,” said the hated voice as Pandora became aware of her surroundings again.

She opened her eyes, nausea warring with the rush of stimulants she felt coursing through her body.  They had injected her with something, a drug that had helped to raise her back to awareness.  She was sure that they hadn’t done that because they missed her sparkling wit.  The rush was also diminishing as she took stock of herself, and she knew her nanites were already attacking it en mass.

Pandora still hurt like hell, especially in her breasts and private areas.  Her nanites were stimulating the release of endorphins and blocking nerve transmission, and there were finally enough of them in her system to reduce agony to pain.  Her muscles and joints were in good shape, repaired and maintained by the nanites, which at her command had ignored needed repairs to her skin so that the game was not given away.  She could tell from her implants that her muscles were fully charged with ATP, and that she was almost ready to carry out what she had planned from the moment she had found herself on this table of horrors.

“Are you ready to answer some more questions?” asked the dwarfish man, moving to her side while his hand reached for the heat probe.

“I thought you already got what you wanted,” she said, making her voice sound weaker than it was.  “What more do you want, you sons of bitches.”

“What language,” said the man, chuckling.  “Perhaps I should burn that tongue out of your head.”  The man moved the now hot probe toward her mouth, then withdrew it.  “But no, we need you able to talk, for the while.”

Pandora tried to link with the ship’s computer, using the pathway they had shown her when they extracted her code.  She linked to the outer layer with ease, but the inner workings, like those that controlled her shackles, were still locked to her mind.

“What the hell do you need from me?” she growled, linking with the nanites that had left her body soon after she had first woken on this table.

“We would like to know of the defenses on the Donut,” said the man, almost caressing the handle of the probe.  “We would like to know the location of the control center.”

“I’m not telling you that,” said Pandora, spitting up at the man as soon as the last word left her mouth.

“Oh, I think you will,” said the man, a cold smile playing across his face.

He brought the tip of the probe close to her left eye, till she could feel the heat drying the surface of her eyeball.  She closed her eye tight, but another Inquisitor put his fingers on her lid and pulled it open.

“I think we need you to keep your tongue, for now,” said the Chief Inquisitor, hovering the tip of the probe over her orb.  “But you don’t really need to see to give us the information.  Only to feel.”

Fuck, thought Pandora, staring at the probe which was weaving back and forth in her sight like the head of a cobra.  Superficial damage I can take, but not the loss of my sight.  She had wanted to wait a little longer, but time had just run out, and the probe was moving in a motion she knew would only end when her left eyeball was burned out of its socket.

With a thought the nanites that had infiltrated the magnetic lock mechanisms made their final move, pulling atoms out of the power conduit that fed the manacles.  They worked at blinding speed, moving objects ten thousand times a second at the nanoscale.  Billions of atoms were moved in less than a tenth of a second, and power was interrupted to the locks, which clicked open.

The Inquisitor holding the probe didn’t notice the manacles on wrists and ankles opening.  The other torturer did, and tried to move away from the table and grab a weapon.  Pandora moved like a snake whose tail had been set afire, her right hand smacking the Chief Inquisitor and knocking him to the side while her left hand grabbed the heat probe.  With a twist she was off the table and on the floor, taking a couple of quick steps toward the second man, swinging the probe out wide, then smacking it hard into the man’s ear, piercing the auditory canal.  The man screamed and his legs went out from under him.  Pandi swiveled on her right foot while her left struck out in a front snap kick to the falling man’s jaws.  He continued his fall while consciousness fled, and rolled flopping bonelessly onto his back.

“Oh no you don’t,” yelled Pandora, jumping over the form of the unconscious man, landing on her right foot and spinning into a left hook kick that caught the Chief Inquisitor in the chest, knocking him back.  She jumped up and came down with an angled side kick to the man’s knee, the satisfying crack of his joint breaking coming to her ears.  The man let out a high pitched scream, trying to grab his knee and keep from falling back at the same time, and failing badly at both.  He hit hard with an oof of outgoing air, tears in his eyes, while he grabbed for his broken knee with both hands.

A high velocity round cracked by Pandora’s head, and she ducked and turned at the same moment, cringing inwardly as several more went overhead.  The only cover was the table she had been laying on, which had a solid base of metal and plastic.  She let herself fall behind the table, banging her knees and grimacing at the new but minor damage she was doing to herself.  More shots cracked overhead, and the men, she thought there were three, starting yelling at each other, each giving commands that the others were seeming to ignore as they shouted out their own directives.

I need to get moving, she thought, looking over at the first man she had downed.  He was conscious again, lying there screaming with the heat probe stuck deep in his ear.  There would be Marines here any moment, and she didn’t like her odds against heavily armed and possibly armored soldiers, unlike the torturers she was currently engaged with.

Pandora slid over toward the screaming man, then hit him in the throat with a knife hand, turning the screams into gurgles.  She hit him again, crushing his throat, not intending to leave any of her torturers alive to tell a story of how they survived her vengeance.  She grabbed the handle of the probe and pulled it from the dying man’s ear, making sure that the tip was still white hot.  Then she was on her feet and throwing it toward the centermost of the men, who flinched and threw his arms up while the other two were trying to get her lined up for a shot.  Pandora fell back to the floor, flinching herself as shots cracked overhead, then smiling as she heard the scream of the centermost man.  She knew that the probe hit him, and while not sure of how much damage she had done, from the scream she could tell that the hot end had connected.

The men all started yelling at once, and Pandora ran her hands over the body of the man she had just killed, finding a mag pistol and a magazine pouch on his belt under his robes.  She checked the pistol, turning it on and setting it for maximum velocity.  She set the magazine pouch down on the floor near the table, then crawled around to the side and looked around, pistol gripped firmly in both hands.  She knew better than to fire over the top of the table, an amateur mistake most likely to get her killed.  The men didn’t seem to know that trick, and she remembered that they were not military at all, merely religious fanatics who could cause enough pain to get the information they wanted.

Suddenly klaxons went off, and she knew someone had either checked in on the room through the viewer, or one of the inquisitors had finally gotten his shit together and sent for help.  Probably the former, she thought with a tight smile as she looked around the table and lined up her first shot, also planning her next two.  Either way she needed to move, and move now, or she would either be dead or again a prisoner.  She swore to herself she would not again be captured, and squeezed the trigger on the pistol.

The mag pistol bucked hard in her hands, the recoil from accelerating the metallic pellet down the magnet lined tube that was the barrel.  She had guessed at the recoil, and had slightly overcompensated, so that when the barrel rose the round struck her target in the throat, instead of the face like she had intended.  The man dropped his pistol and started to reach for his throat before his body registered the damage to his spine.  After that he simply fell dead to the floor.

The other men made the mistake of looking at their dead comrade instead of trying to target his killer.  Pandora’s second round took the man to the left through the forehead, then she put two rounds into the upper chest of the last man.  Both fell, the first dead immediately, the other choking his life out as blood filled his lungs.

Pandora was on her feet in an instant, heading for the door, her gun still covering the men, switching back and forth.  She reached the door and hit the lock button, knowing it wouldn’t hold long.  She then sprinted back to where the Chief Inquisitor was still rocking on the floor, holding his knee, scooping up the magazine pouch as she passed the table.

“I need the codes for the security system,” she said, looking down at the small man.  “And I need them now.”

“I’m not giving you those codes, woman,” said the man through clenched teeth, a grimace of pain on his face.

Pandora aimed the pistol and shot the man in the other knee.  The Inquisitor screamed again, a high pitch noise that carried his agony with it.  “I hope that gives you an idea as to how much pain I am willing to inflict, you piece of trash,” said Pandi, aiming the pistol at his groin.

“I’ll give you the codes,” said the man, his eyes wide.  “Just don’t hurt me anymore.”

“Can give it but can’t take it,” said Pandora with a sneer.  “Figures.  Now send those codes through my link and I won’t cause you no more pain.”  Pandora opened the pathway to her brain, meshing her own link with the man’s as he sent the information down the pipe.

“Thank you,” she said, pointing the pistol at the man’s head, her own vision almost red with anger as she thought of how she had been violated by this slime ball.

“You promised you wouldn’t hurt me,” screamed the man, one hand going up in front of his face like he could stop a bullet with it.

“Oh, it won’t hurt,” she said with a cold smile playing across her face.  “I promise.”

“You will go to Hell for this,” said the wide eyed man.  “This is murder, plain and simple, and I will see you in Hell.”

“You sure will,” said Pandora with a quick laugh.  “And you’ll be there personal to see me march in.  After I send you some more company.”

Pandi pulled the trigger and put the round right through the inquisitor’s forehead.  The man fell back to the floor with open mouth and staring eyes, and Pandora, though she really didn’t believe in Hell, hoped that it did exist, and was opening its gates for the man.

Pandora looked over toward the door and used the codes to set a block in place on the lock, then looked to a vent high in the wall that appeared to be her only way out.  Her eye caught her clothes, panties and bodysuit, lying on the floor in a corner, and she took a moment to grab the dirty and ripped clothing.  She knew it was irrational, but she was tired of parading around naked in front of the fanatics.  She pulled the panties on, then the body suit, moving as quickly as possible.

Next she pulled the table that had been her prison over to the wall and climbed on top, looking into the duct that was now blocked by a security door.  With a thought the door was retracting, and Pandi pulled off the grill and herself into the duct, grimacing as her ruined chest contacted the metal floor and she scraped along it.  She pulled the grill back into place, moved down the duct, then closed the security door behind her with another thought.  I better make good use of this while I can, she thought, knowing that the enemy would change the codes as soon as they figured out what was going on.  She pulled up the schematics of the ship and found what she wanted, her next target, and the thing that would give her some real power aboard this ship.

*     *     *

Colonel Wilhem Johanson of the Nation of Humanity Marines had never been to the Supersystem before.  He had been privy to all the intelligence gathered from Admiral Gerasi’s first mission to the Donut, but had never experienced it himself.  He really wasn’t sure if he was qualified to lead this expedition to the station, but he had been ordered to lead the regiment onto the ancient artifact, and so here he was.

“Clear, sir,” came the voice of the Regimental Sergeant Major, Charlie Patterson, over the com.

Patterson had been on the Donut before, as a First Sergeant.  Most of his company had been wiped out, along with a good portion of his battalion.  But the man knew what they were facing, which was more than most of the regiment.

“Any problems, Sergeant Major?” asked the Colonel, looking out the door of the transport aircraft that was delivering him to the large pyramid that housed the gateway to the station.

“Just a couple of battlebots, sir,” said the Top Sergeant, his own camera sweeping the wormhole gate chamber, and the smoking remains of two machines that had contested the entrance.  “Company A took them out with only one casualty.  Kind of wonder why there were only two?”

The Colonel grunted as he looked down at the area in front of the pyramid that had been cleared by lasers and rockets.  A trio of aircraft were set down, disgorging sixteen troopers each, then rising into the air while the men bounded up the steps in their powered armor.  Another trio of aircraft swept in, landed, and repeated the exercise until another platoon was on its way up the pyramid to the entrance, where a dozen heavily armed troopers had set up a defensive position.

“We’re getting ready to send the first men through,” said the Sergeant Major, the camera view showing the silvered surface of the wormhole.  “I would like to accompany the first squad.”

“Negative, Charlie,” said the Colonel in a growl.  “You’re too valuable to risk on the point.  Send in two squads, and when they report all clear you can go through with the platoon HQ.  Then sit tight until you have at least a company over there.”

“Yes sir,” said the NCO with a chuckle.  “Don’t aim to put my hide on the line until I have to.”

“Get a battalion on board and a perimeter set up before you go searching for trouble,” said the Colonel, watching the ground approach as his bird came in for a landing.  “Once we get the regimental HQ there we’ll start searching in earnest.  Clear.”

“As a bell, sir,” said the NCO.

The aircraft set down and the Colonel jumped out with his com and security detail.  The other craft also carried HQ personnel, and within moments the entire staff was heading up the pyramid steps, while more combat troops came in behind.  The Colonel looked through the camera as men came back out of the mirrored surface and talked with the platoon leader, while another squad went back through.

“Scouts are reporting that there was no resistance on the other side,” said the Top Sergeant to the Colonel as the platoon leader passed through the entrance.  “Bunch of combat robots standing around doing nothing.  They even fired a few of the robots up but didn’t get a response.”

So the boys in intelligence were right, thought the Colonel, walking quickly through the tunnel toward the gate room, returning the salutes of the sentries along the way.  The robots need intelligent control to be ordered to harm sentient beings.  Not really a bright idea, in my opinion.

And then the chamber was ahead, and the Colonel caught sight of the silver mirror of the wormhole gate as soon as he entered.  The stuff of legends, he was never really sure he believed the magical gates existed, even when evidence came back from the first expedition.  A line of troops marched through, disappearing into the mirror surface which rippled with their passage.

The Colonel nodded at one side of the chamber and the headquarters people began to set up their equipment.  Soon there were dozens of vid recorders added to the built in suit units, all sending information back to the flagship.  Companies formed up, then went through a squad at a time, until there were two battalions aboard the station.

Communications were established through the hole and the Colonel got his first good look at the other side.  The long room stretched away on the vid, the Tori arches of wormhole gates arrayed two high along both sides.  Most of the gateways were empty, the incomprehensible arrays of what looked like half melted machinery that was said to be working apparatus showing through the arches.  Some showed the shimmering mirrors of working gates.

I wonder where they lead, thought the Colonel, watching a take as one of the troopers moved down the row of gates.  Someday.  But now the mission was to secure a foothold on the station, and maybe find a way to gain control.

“Second battalion is to fan out and search the local area,” ordered the Colonel over the com.  “Fire team search units.  First battalion is to move out a kilometer and establish a perimeter.”  The Colonel turned to look at the Third Battalion commander, a Light Colonel.  “Establish a defensive position here and outside the pyramid with a company, then send the rest of your battalion through.  I want you to stay on this side and coordinate the defense and any follow up units they send our way.”

The Lt. Colonel nodded his head and started talking into his com, relaying the orders.  The Colonel caught sight of some naval personnel coming into the chamber, all with sensory equipment slung over shoulders or held in their hands.  A Commander saw the Colonel and ran over, rendering an abbreviated salute.

“We’re ready to start over whenever you say, Colonel Johanson,” said the man, giving the wormhole a nervous look.

Don’t blame him much there, thought the Colonel, giving the mirrored surface another look.  The stuff of legend is kind of hard to come face to face with.  “As soon as I get the word that all is secure I send you over.  Right on my tail.”

The Commander nodded, then jogged back to his men to give them the news.

“How are things coming, Colonel?” came the voice of the Fleet Commander over the com link.  “Any problems?”

“No, sir,” said the Colonel, straightening his back a bit as he talked with the senior officer in the system.  “We’ve secured the other end, and I have two battalions aboard.  I’m getting ready to head over myself.”

“As soon as we run the Suryans to ground I’ll send you some more men,” said the Admiral.  “I want you to hold that station if possible.  But also get as much tech and data as you can back here in case the position becomes untenable.  Understood?”

“Sir,” said the Colonel.  “So far we’ve seen nothing but robots, and they aren’t doing anything to impede our search.”

“Get as many of them across as you can as well,” said the Admiral.  “Make sure they are deactivated first.”

“I was going to order them deactivated anyway,” said the Colonel, nodding.  “At least all in my area of operations.  I don’t want them becoming active at the wrong moment.”

“Good thinking, Colonel.  I….”  Klaxons sounded over the com, and the Admiral went off link for a moment, coming back a minute later.

“What’s going on, sir?” asked the Colonel, wondering if the fleet was being attacked by something he didn’t know about, always a concern to a ground commander who depended on the orbitals belonging to his side.

“Local emergency, Colonel,” said the Admiral.  “Nothing for you to worry about.  Just get what we need from that station.  And maybe, with luck, the station itself.  Gerasi out.”

The Colonel stood for a second, wondering what the local emergency could be, then deciding that he couldn’t do anything about it.  He turned to the wormhole while calling out to his HQ people.  “Red team, follow me.  Blue stay in place, and make sure I know about anything going on this side of the hole.  Let’s go people.”

The Colonel stepped into the wormhole, walking quickly so his nerve wouldn’t break.  He broke the mirrored surface and felt like he was being pulled into something he couldn’t get away from.  Then he wasn’t.  It was a moment when he didn’t exist, and he stepped from the other side with a feeling of disorientation unlike anything he had ever felt before.  He gathered himself and moved away from the gate, knowing that others would be on his heels.  His eyes took in the long hallway that had once been teeming with life, people on their way to destinations across the Galaxy.

“Welcome to the Donut, Sir,” said the Lt. Colonel in charge of the defensive battalion.

“Glad to be here,” said the Colonel, a smile breaking across his face.  He had made it onto the headquarters of the old Galactic Empire.  And if he had his way it would soon become the hub of a new Empire.

*     *     *

“We have an alert from the Inquisitor’s chamber,” said the voice of the ship’s Security Chief.  “I’m sending a team there now.”

“Why wasn’t security assigned to that chamber in the first place,” yelled the Admiral, feeling his blood pressure rise at the thought that the woman might be free on his ship.

“We don’t have the manpower for everything,” said the Security Chief in a nervous tone.  “And the Chief Inquisitor assured me they would have no problems with her.  Hold it, sir.  We have men at the door.  Shit.  They say the door won’t open, and their overrides are not having any effect.”

“Well, do something.  Get some men into that chamber, and right now, or I’ll see you busted to common Spacer.”

“Yes sir,” said the man, his words shaking.  “I’m sending my own override at once.”  There was a moment’s silence.  “It’s not working.  But that’s impossible.  Unless.  Unless the Chief Inquisitor set his own code to the lock.”

“Why in the hells would he do that?” yelled Gerasi, pounding a fist on the arm of his chair.  “I’m sending my code through the com.”  Gerasi thought for a moment in the link, sending the Commander’s override code that should have opened any lock, no matter who set it.  He waited for the acknowledgement that never came.

“There must be a disconnect in the receiving unit of the lock,” said the Security Chief, talking quickly in the manner of one who knows he is in trouble.  “I’m heading there now to use the physical scan override.”

The man’s voice left the link, leaving Gerasi to fret over what was going on down in that chamber.  At least she’s still in that chamber, he thought, then felt a wave of nervous tension flow over him as he thought about that.  Given her resourcefulness there was no guarantee that she was still in the chamber.  And if she were loose on the ship there was no telling what damage she could cause.  She’s a naked and injured woman, thought the Admiral, shaking his head.  What can she do?  And the Admiral blanched as he thought about what she could do on his ship, if she had a mind to cause trouble.

*     *     *

“They’ve found us, sir,” called out Lt. Commander Dasha Mandrake over the local com.  The sounds of a firefight came through the circuit.

“Get ready to pick up and run,” said Fleet Admiral Nagara Krishnamurta through the wave of fatigue that was threatening to drop him to the dirt.  He was tired of this running and hiding, but didn’t see what else they could do.  Standing and fighting meant defeat.  Maybe they could take some of the enemy with them, though it looked as if the exchange rate would not be in their favor.  But that was little consolation when defeat meant the enemy gained total control of this system, and the other systems orbiting the black hole.

“I don’t think that’s going to work this time, sir,” said the younger officer, her own voice sounding like that of someone who had about given up hope.  “They’ve positioned themselves too well this time it seems.  I can’t see any way of getting us out of these caves and back into the jungle.”

“So it looks like stand and die time,” said the Admiral, picking up a mag rifle and checking to make sure it was fully operational.  I would have rather died on the bridge of my ship, thought the long time naval officer.  But it doesn’t seem like I will be offered that choice.  Satisfied that the weapon was ready he called to the other men and women to follow him to the cavern entrances.  If it was to be the last fight he was determined that the fanatics would learn how real people died.

*     *     *

“Tell the Admiral that we’ve got them,” yelled Major Dronning Dumas into the com.  Dumas looked at the deployment of his troops on his HUD and felt his spirits soar.  He would gain the glory in this campaign.  The command of the regiment had devolved on him with the deaths of both the Colonel in charge and the two Lt. Colonels under him.  Something good has to come from walking through this accursed jungle, thought the Major.  And Colonel had wanted to hold a face to face with his two senior commanders.  Unfortunately for them the face to face was right on top of some kind of insect hive, and the creatures had swarmed and stung the three men to death before they even realized their danger.  Even the insects were super on this world, able to push their venom injectors through material that would stop most blades, as the senior officers had found out.  Which left one Major Dronning Dumas the acting commander of the fifteen hundred men in the field.

“I’ll let him know,” said the Liaison Officer on the other side of the link.  “He’s a little busy right now with a local emergency, but as soon as he’s available I’ll let him know.”

“What kind of emergency?” asked Dumas, hoping it wasn’t something that put his command at risk.

“Something local,” returned the Liaison Officer.  “Just handle your part of the campaign, and get those Suryans.”

“Yes, sir,” replied the Major, noting that a priority message was coming through from the other side of the mountain they had surrounded.  What the hell now, he thought, just before all hell broke loose.

*     *     *

Watcher felt a smile break out on his face as he looked at the deployments on his suit’s HUD.  I need allies, he thought, watching the red dots start to move toward the entrance to the caves his pizzos had shown him.  And here they are.  Almost makes me believe in a God.

Then the smile turned to a frown as he thought of his lover in the clutches of the beasts he was about to unleash hell upon.  He hardened his heart and became the ultimate warrior again; ready to deal death, quickly and efficiently.  [Go] he ordered over his link, walking forward with his particle beam cannon in his hand.

Watcher had augmented his suit of powered armor with add on packs for this fight, knowing that he needed all the firepower and protection he could handle.  The suit was now taller and thicker than it had been, towering three meters.  The heavy backpack on the dorsal region of the suit contained a massive particle accelerator system that fed by way of a wormhole into the multibarreled cannon, a much larger weapon than before, that he held at hip level.  The accelerator was fed already fast moving protons from the larger accelerator on the Donut through another small wormhole, while most of the heat buildup was removed the same way through another hole, making the weapon as sustained fire as possible.  The weapon system used all of the components of the smaller system he had used at the pyramid, with add ons to make it much more robust.

The tanks were arrayed in a triangle, floating ten meters above the jungle floor on automatic systems.  There were always plenty of paths for the three meter wide machines.  Maybe not free of all vegetation, but the vehicles were more than capable of pushing through vines and branches, and anything that couldn’t be pushed through could be burned away by the laser spots that dotted the outer surface of the tanks.

On the floor of the jungle, in three squad formations, one behind Watcher, the others to either side, were the thirty-six battlebots Watcher had brought to the party.  As capable as the ones Pandora Latham had deployed, the bots looked like living Maurids as they loped low to the ground on all fours.  Mounted on their backs were the particle beams and lasers they were equipped with, and other weapons lay in sheaths for use when they stood.  Four in every twelve bots in each squad also carried a magazine fed rocket launcher.

The assault force covered the distance between themselves and the Nation Marines in a quick sprint.  The Marines did deploy rear security, but Watcher’s force was well stealthed, moving quietly under invisibility fields.  There was of course some noise, tanks moving through jungle cannot help but make a bit.  That still did not alert them to the forces moving along the ground while their attention was focused up by that noise.

First blood went to Watcher, as he intended.  He spotted the hyper-velocity launcher team before they spotted him, aiming as they were for one of his tanks that was overhead and slightly to the rear.  Watcher pulled the trigger on his cannon and sent a wide red beam at their position.  The buzzing sound turned the heads of many more of the Marines as it cut through all the other noises of the jungle.  But soon it was drowned out by the sound of a body exploding through its armored suit as megajoules of energy were transferred into it, and of the tree trunk beyond blowing out from the superheated sap within it.

Watcher swung the weapon while the next barrel rotated into place, vaporizing the hyper-velocity launcher and leaving pieces of the assistant gunner’s armor scattering through the jungle.  The result was the other Marines opening fire on Watcher with their own weapons, and in an instant high velocity rounds were bouncing from his heavy armor after slowing through his electromagnetic field.  His suit sensors registered some laser beams as well, and the superconductors built into the outer shell shuttled that energy into yet another small wormhole heat sink.

Moments after the enemy opened fire the robots and the tanks, now confronted with a target rich environment, returned it.  Soon the air was filled with particle beams, lasers, and high-velocity cannon rounds tearing into the positions of the Nation Marines.

The Marines fought bravely enough, continuing to return fire as they were overwhelmed position by position.  They scored some hits on the tanks, totally ineffectual, and knocked out two of the battlebots.  Everything they sent at Watcher was repelled by his electromag field or the armor of his heavy suit.  And every hit scored on a Marine was a killing shot.  Soon even their courage began to fail, and the Marines on the flanks fled into the jungle, while those in the center could no longer hold the tide and died in place.

[Under cover] ordered Watcher to his robots.  [Form a defensive perimeter].  He looked back at the tanks.  [Forward] he ordered them, walking to where he knew the entrance to the cavern was.

The suit levitated into the air, then moved forward to the entrance where waited some frightened looking men in the uniform of the Suryan Navy, with a couple of armored Marines by their side.  Watcher ordered the faceplate of his helmet to retract, then held out his hands.  “I am Watcher,” he said to the people he knew were the enemies of the Nation of Humanity.  “And I believe we can be of mutual benefit to each other.”

Chapter Eighteen

Never forget that no military leader has ever become great without audacity.   Karl Von Clausewitz

Pandora gritted her teeth as she crawled along the air duct.  Her flesh was rubbing raw against the metal of the tube, and even with the nanites blocking most of her pain receptors her already damaged flesh was causing problems.  The bodysuit that should have cushioned her flesh a little was too torn to prevent her skin from contacting the floor of the duct.  She stopped for a moment and rolled over to take stock of her body.  There was some fluid oozing from the ruins of her breasts, and the burn scars on her belly and thighs were a horror to behold.  Pandora shuddered as she looked at the damage that had been done to her beautiful body.  She knew it could be repaired, that it would be if she could make it back to Watcher and the med labs of the station.  But it still horrified her on a deep psychological level.

I’m gonna get them fuckers, she thought of the Nation people who had captured her, the Admiral who had ordered her torture, and of the Nation of Humanity in general.  She rolled back over and started forward again on her hands and knees, following the schematic in her head.

At least it has artificial gravity, she thought, then gave a quick chuckle at that thought.  Back in her old life, in the solar system, artificial gravity was considered a fantasy that would never come.  The only gravity generated by ships was either from thrust or spin.  Now even ships she considered primitive possessed gravity generators.

She came to another hatch that was set to block her way.  She sent her stolen code into the local control circuit and waited.  And waited some more, panic starting to grow inside her.  They’ve wiped the code, she thought, seeing herself trapped in these air ducts until they came for her.  And they’re probably looking at me on sensors right now, she thought, her skin crawling at the picture in her mind.

I’ve got to do something, she thought, wondering for a moment what she could do, then deciding that she was equipped with what she needed for this job.  Her implants contained a microprocessor probably as powerful as what was used in the shuttles aboard this ship, and she had some basic codes gathered from the Chief Inquisitor that she had not used to this point, that would probably not trigger the alarms if they were used to probe into the main computer.

Pandora probed with her mind, her implant catching hold of the carrier wave that allowed link communications throughout the ship, then using a code to enter the stream.  A quick thought and the code brought her into the ship’s comp system, while another took her into the security system.  Here was where it got just a little bit tricky.  A wrong move and she would be locked out, and the system would be alert for other attempts.  She locked onto a node of the security system, sent an inquiry, then allowed her implants to analyze the reply.

The implant crunched the data, then found the backdoor of the relatively, to it, primitive system.  The software of her implant had been developed with all of the common backdoors into less advanced systems closed off.  And it knew what those backdoors looked like, and how to exploit them.  Especially the backdoors of Nation of Humanity programs, since they had access to so many computers from suits and equipment, including a damaged shuttle with intact comp systems, after the Nation Marines had invaded the station.

In a few moments another signal came back through the ship’s net, letting her know that the security protocals had been overridden on this section of the air duct system.  A constant feed had been established that would show her heat signature in this part of the duct system until a code was sent that said otherwise.  Great, thought Pandora with a smile.  Now I just need to get out of this space before they send someone, because if my fake signal is in the same place where the real me is, I’m not much better off.

This next part was even trickier, involving telling the security system to raise a blast door while enticing it to not alert the other human watchers.  Again she rode the carrier wave in, using a different code so the system would not notice that the same user was messing with the same area.  My granddad used to talk about the days when they didn’t have everything hooked up to a computer, she thought as the algorithm ran.  At least not everything, yet.  When he was a boy, and people still used physical locks to secure stuff.  The door started to rise to her front, and she prepared to move through.  As soon as it hit the top she was scooting under it and on her way.  Computers are great, but there’s still something to say for a good bolt that I couldn’t have gotten to.  Only wish I had opted for the quantum entanglement feature about now.  But unfortunately she was cut off from the mainframe quantum computer on the station.  She hadn’t liked the idea of that supercomputer having an unrestricted channel to her brain.  Maybe next time I’ll listen to Watcher when he tells me he thinks it’s a good idea.

Pandora crawled down one more branch, then was in front of the door that closed her off from where she wanted to be.  She knew this one was of thicker construction, and was controlled by a much more robust security system.  She also knew she needed to get through it if she had a hope of fighting her way free of this ship.  So there was nothing to it but to do it.  She linked into the system, this time using a slightly different approach to the back door, using another security code she had intercepted on the way here.

At first she thought she had made a mistake as nothing happened for a moment, and she expected to pick up an alert signal telling of her whereabouts.  She then breathed out a sigh of relief as the door started to slide open.  She waited for it to reach the ceiling, but it stopped three quarters of the way up.  An alarm did sound through the carrier wave, and the door started back down.  Pandora moved in an instant, realizing the danger if she got caught by a descending door, and the greater danger if she didn’t get through.  She jumped forward, feeling the door fall onto her rear.  She grimaced, grabbed a pull bar in the duct, and jerked herself through even as her belly hit the floor.  She pulled her legs in tight and yelped as the door slammed down to take two toes off of her left foot.  Klaxons started going off, and she knew that people she didn’t want to deal with would soon be here.

“Crap,” she said under her breath, reaching down to grab the injured area and thanking the God of her father that it hadn’t taken both legs, or possibly cut her in half.  The bleeding was already slowing to a stop under the attention of the nanites, and the pain block was again going into effect.  I got to move, she thought, turning her body, then kicking the grill out of the vent leading into what she hoped was the room she needed.

She followed the grill into the room, knowing that if there was someone there she needed to move fast.  Pandi landed lightly, most of her weight on her right foot, a stab of pain shooting up her left leg from her injured member hitting the floor.  She stifled a yelp, then held back a shout of triumph as she saw what she was looking for leaning against a wall.  She scanned the room quickly, making sure there was no one there to interfere, then limped over to the combat armor, probing with her implant and establishing a link with the on-board computer.

The suit still looked battered, the outer skin scuffed in many places, a dent here and there.  But nowhere near as damaged as it had been.  She read through the link that all internal damage had been repaired, and a weakened but still functional grabber unit was now operating on the leg the original mechanism had been blown off of.  The computer gave her a short historical report as she backed into the armor and felt the physical connections made when the neck section plugged into her interface.

The Nation tech had indeed given the suit a good dose of EMP from the inside, where there wasn’t the protection given by the outer skin, destroying the working nanites.  They hadn’t wanted the suit to repair itself, something within its capabilities that they seemed to be well aware of.  They had dosed it again once they got it aboard, then stored it here in this armory to make sure it was secure.  The main systems of the suit were of course protected from any level of EMP, and so were the compartments where the spare nanites were stored.  As soon as activity around the suit ceased it had released the nanites and put them to work, repairing the knocked out nanobots and making sure all internal systems were good to go.  External skin was mostly ignored, except where major damage affected the functioning of the armor, and of course the grabber needed for levitation.

Pandora smiled as that report flashed in her mind, and sent an order to complete skin repairs with dispatch.  The suit closed around her, seams becoming solid armor as the alloys sealed at the molecular level.  The suit powered up, and Pandora was happy to see that she still had a half charge.  She looked over at a power plug and extruded a probe from her left gauntlet, then slammed the extrusion into the outlet.  The suit began to suck power from the conduit, and Pandora watched on her HUD as the suit storage meter began to rise until it was almost fully charged.

The woman was feeling good about her chances now.  In the armor she was almost invulnerable to the weapons of the Nation’s personnel.  She didn’t think they would use hyper-velocity missiles aboard the ship, or heavy beam weapons.  Looking over at the racks of weapons she saw both, and felt under no constraint using them to perforate the walls of the vessel.  In fact, she thought she would feel really good breaking things and putting holes where they were not wanted.

“Stop right there,” called out a voice, at the same time that Pandora’s armor told her the door was opening behind her.

Shit, she thought, hoping that she could get the last little bit of power into the crystalline matrix capacitors, realizing that she had gotten as much as she was going to get.  She raised her electromag shields and armed her built in lasers, looking on her HUD as the four Marines all moved into position and pointed their mag rifles at her.  She smiled as she noted that they only wore the light shipboard armor meant to protect from hand to hand or blade weapons, and which also provided some ballistic protection.  But no protection from what she was about to do.

Pandora pulled the probe from the power plug and turned quickly, extending her other gauntlet out and triggering the laser as she completed the turn.  Shots hit her suit, mostly the rapid clatter of automatic fire that lacked any kind of penetrating power.  The one rifle firing high velocity single shots did not do any better, slowed some by the electromag field, then bouncing away from the hard armor.  Pandi swung her fist across the men, the laser burning through them like an infinite sword blade.  Men scream as they were cut in two just above the waist, smoke and a searing meat sound accompanying the shouts of agony.  The upper sections fell away, the men still alive for the moment, their veins and arteries cauterized shut.  The legs stood for a moment, then fell at all angles.

Pandora grimaced at the cries the dying men were emitting.  She wanted them dead, all of them.  But their cries of agony were too much, and she walked over and shot each of them in the head in turn, silencing the screams that were tugging at her heart.  They’re bastards, she thought as she sent a pencil thin beam into the forehead of the last man, one who looked up at her with entreating eyes.  But even bastards don’t need to suffer like that.  Unless they’re some of them Inquisitor fuckers, or that Admiral.  She thought of inflicting such pain on them and gave a sharkish smile.  Then she cleared her head of such thoughts and perused the racks of weapons, selecting what she wanted.

The armored warrior looked up at the grill and shook her head.  The armor would not fit through those narrow tunnels, which left the corridors of the ship.  And they would fight her every step of the way, unless she found a path that wasn’t so heavily guarded.  She jacked into the ship’s information system through her suit and smiled as an idea came to her.  It seemed like a good one to her, though she was sure the enemy wouldn’t be quite so enthused.

*     *     *

“She’s broken into an armory,” called out the Security Chief over the circuit.  “She killed some Marines and took off from there.”

“Are you able to track her,” growled the Admiral, slamming a fist on the arm of his chair.

“No sir,” said the distressed Security Chief.  “She’s disappeared from our scans.”

“What was in that armory?” asked the Admiral in a quiet voice, feeling misgivings raised by the inability to track the woman in their own ship.

“Shit,” said the Security Chief after a moment’s hesitation.  “It was the armory where we were storing her suit.  And the suit is missing.”

“Dammit,” screamed the Admiral, looking into the frightened face of the Security Chief through the visual part of the link.  She seems to be one step ahead of us all the time.  And our computer safeguards aren’t enough to stop her.

He glowered at the Security Chief for a moment, the words on his lips that would relieve the man of his duty.  But he wasn’t sure if the next man in line would do any better against this woman.  She was smart, very smart, and she had resources they had never begun to suspect.  Like breaking free of her restraints and killing five inquisitors.  That was unheard of.  Then finding her way to the one room among a thousand on the ship where her major resource was stored, and activating a suit they were all sure was disabled.

“Alert all crew to arm, and to be on the lookout for her,” said the Admiral, staring into the screen.  “Only try to stop her if they have the firepower to do so.  Otherwise, stay out of her way, and alert security so the Marines can try to take her.  Understood?”

“Understood,” said the Security Chief, wiping his brow with a sleeve, relief on his face as he realized he would keep his position, for the moment.

The Admiral cut the circuit and sat back in his chair, rubbing his temples with his fingers to try and relieve an oncoming headache.  What the hell can she be up to? he thought, trying to get into the mind of the woman.  Is she trying to escape?  That would be the smart move, but she has to know that anything she steals to get to the planet will be seen and shot down.  So what will she try to do?  And in a flash it came to him.  She would try to damage or destroy this ship.  Which would seem a totally mad plan on the outside, unless one knew the woman and the capabilities of the advanced combat armor she now wore.

“Security Chief,” said the Admiral, relinking through the circuit.  “I need to talk to you.”

“We’re getting a message from the surface,” called out the Marine Liaison Officer, looking back at the Admiral.

“What now?” asked the Admiral, putting the security chief on hold.

“It’s not good, sir,” said the Liaison, his face troubled.

Watcher, thought the Admiral, putting his face in his hands and readying himself for the bad news.

*     *     *

First had come the calls from the company holding closed the backdoor in preparation for the main assault.  The calls had been panicked and confused, and Major Dronning Dumas was not sure what they meant.  The most rational explanation was that another force had attacked out of the jungle, and he knew the Abomination had some assets out there in that horror of a forest.  The Major had not thought them so close.  But I guess we should never underestimate his capabilities.

The Major still had almost a regiment of Marines, and he couldn’t comprehend the small force the Abomination was said to have actually defeating his command.  It might be a long and bloody fight, short and bloody more like, but surely the Abomination’s force would succumb to the numerically superior Nation Marines.

Dumas had ordered his flank units to consolidate and attack into the sides of the force that had routed his company.  And had prepared to move on the cavern with a battalion at the same time.  And then had come the second shock.  A shock that was still rolling up his lines, when the tanks, robots and armed Suryans came through the jungle and hit his flank.  All led by that monster of a combat suit that destroyed everything in its way.

“Get that son of a bitch,” yelled someone over the com.  There were more screams and yells, the sound of something exploding, more yells, then silence.

“All men, concentrate fire on that big combat suit when he comes within sight,” yelled the commander, watching his heads up display to see where the dot tagged as the Abomination was centered.  The tanks were still around him, as well as many other dots that signified robots and Suryans.  As he watched one of the tank dots blinked for a moment and then faded off the screen.

“We got one of the vehicles,” came a voice over the link.  A moment later the angry bee sound of a heavy particle beam drowned out all background noise.  Then silence, and the Major knew the hyper-v crew had been destroyed.

The cries and screams and shouted orders continued over the com, and the Major knew the situation was getting out of hand.  And we can’t even call in a kinetic strike, he thought, glaring at the enemy symbols that were continuing to sweep his flanks.  Not with the enemy within our lines.  He was almost afraid to give the fleet any more information about the situation.  They might consider himself and his troops expendable if there was a possibility that they could take out the Abomination.  He almost wouldn’t blame them.  Almost.  Of course, when it was his hide, and the lives of his men involved, he would damn them to hell for dropping a big kinetic on his command.  Even though it might not make any difference as far as their survival was concerned.

*     *     *

Watcher had been developed to be the ultimate soldier.  One that was tougher, stronger, and most important smarter than any possible opponent.  He was also made immortal so that he might rise to be the ultimate commander, building his knowledge and wisdom throughout the ages.  He was the only one of his kind, because once those who were involved in his development discovered just how dangerous he could be their fear made them hold back on making any others.

So Watcher felt in his element in battle.  It was exhilarating to him in a way nothing outside of great sex was.  A rush, putting his life on the line while he pitted his abilities against those of an armed foe.  Even if the armed foe was equipped with weapons and armor a millennia behind his.

A Nation Marine fired a string of grenades at Watcher, armor piercers that might have actually damaged the suit, if they had hit.  Might have, if they hadn’t been repelled by the powerful electromagnetic field that surrounded the suit.  The grenades popped in the air as they were flung away.  Watcher turned his weapon on the grenadier and fired a short stream of protons into the man.  Beam hit armor and transferred kinetic and heat energy into it, megajoules that melted and blew a hole through the suit at the same time.  The body behind that armor turned mostly to vapor or ash, the pressure blowing outward and sending metallic fragments in all directions.  The wreckage that had been a Nation Marine fell to the ground, and Watcher scanned for the next target with a twinge of guilt at what he was doing.

These men captured Pandora, he thought, pushing the guilt from his mind.  They deserve what they get this day, and are fortunate I am in a killing mood, that they not be captured and tortured for their information.  That might come later, when he had caught some senior commanders that might actually have information of use.

Watcher looked at a flight of aircraft on his HUD, circling helplessly over the battle, unable to fire for fear of hitting their own.  With a mental command his three remaining tanks each fired off a hyper-velocity missile.  The missiles wound slowly through the overhead foliage, then accelerated at max toward their targets.  The aircraft barely had time to register the missiles and attempt laser lock.  One actually got a hit on the missile coming its way, but contact time was too short to cause any damage.  Three of the four aircraft were blasted from the sky, while the fourth dropped low and hit full thrust, getting out of the kill zone while it could.

Something hit one of the tanks, and Watcher cursed as he lost another of his most powerful assets.  He ordered the others to go higher into the canopy, realizing that they were no longer needed in this fight as he watched red dots streaming away, the enemy routed.  “Close in on that last concentration,” he sent to his Suryan allies, while he took aim at the hyper-v crew that had destroyed his tank and blotted them from existence.  “And try to get some prisoners.”

“Acknowledged,” came the voice of the Suryan Commander who was in charge of their ground forces.  The Admiral acknowledged a moment later, and Watcher headed that way himself, blowing away the few remaining enemy positions he encountered.

A signal came through from his on-board computer, a message flashing on his HUD at the same time as it contacted his mind.  [All local recon assets that the enemy had in this area have been neutralized.]

That had been another battle going on, never in doubt except for the exact timing.  The enemy had recon drones in the area, and Watcher’s own pizzos had gone after them in a robot to robot battle.  The drones were larger, the pizzos much more advanced, and with the downing of the last drone the enemy now only had the takes of their armored troopers to tell the ships in orbit what was going on.  And the singular vegetation of this world would not allow orbital sensors to see what was going on beneath the hundreds of meters of foliage.

[The enemy has found the wormhole control chamber on the Donut,] came the relayed signal from the Quantum Computer of the station through the quantum entanglement com.

[What can you do to delay their control?] asked Watcher, already dreading the answer he knew was coming.

[Nothing,] said the computer.  [If they present the proper signals they will become master.]

Watcher cursed yet again.  He had to get Pandora and head back to the station as soon as possible if he were to retain control.  It would not obey any instruction from him as long as he was off the station.  That had been the way it had been programmed, as a failsafe, and there had been no way to change that programming without destroying the computer.

“We have their commander,” came the voice of Lt. Commander Dasha Mandrake over the com.  “The Gods have been good to us, and he is intact.”

“I’ll be right there,” said Watcher, checking his HUD and seeing that the only red dots were those surrounded by the green dots of his forces.  He propelled the suit into the air and weaved through the trees, returning the waves of some of the Suryans he passed.  Seeing the group he wanted he turned the suit and came down in a soft landing, then walked up to the smiling Suryan Commander.  She smiled back, her helmet retracted, and pointed to the closest prisoner.

“This is the officer in charge of the ground troops,” she said, looking into Watcher’s eyes after he retracted his own helm.

“Very good,” said Watcher.  “I need some information from you about the landing field.”

“I will tell you nothing,” said the young officer, squaring his jaw and trying to glare back at the superman, but only showing his fear.

I really hate having to do this, thought Watcher, as he prepared his suit to project a pain induction field.  “I am afraid I cannot allow that,” he said to the wide eyed officer.  “I am very sorry for this, but you have made it necessary.”

*     *     *

“This is the most amazing thing I have ever seen,” said Colonel Johanson, walking into the huge room.  It appeared bigger than a battleship, though he knew some of that was holographic projection.  But the rows of comfortable looking chairs, hundreds of them, in front of what had to be advanced tech control stations, those were not holographic.

“We think they control the production of wormholes from this chamber,” said the naval Commander, Hanson, who accompanied the Colonel through the room.  “My guess is that they also monitored all the gates that were opened across the Galaxy.”

“And how many was that?” asked the Colonel, looking at the holographic globe in the center of the chamber that showed the entire Milky Way Galaxy.  A true Galactic Empire, thought the officer as he looked at that mass of stars.  Like we will be, someday.

“We figure there must have been millions of them,” said the engineering officer, shrugging his shoulders.  “How many million?  We just don’t know.”

“And is this the only control center?” asked the Colonel, the size of the chamber almost overwhelming his mind.

“Maybe,” said the Commander, again shrugging his shoulders.  “Probably not.  We don’t really know.  Until we can actually tap into this thing, we won’t really know where everything is in relation to everything else.  This station is just too big.”

That’s God’s truth, thought the Colonel, walking to one of the control stations and looking it over.  Billions of cubic kilometers.  It would take the population of a world to actually explore this thing.  The Colonel looked down at the panel and the chair, then squatted and touched the seat.  “This doesn’t look like it was made to fit a human,” he said, looking up at Hanson.

“Probably for an alien,” said the naval officer, spitting out the last word like it was excrement in his mouth.  “Of course we’ll have to pull these chairs out of here, what there are of them, so we can put humans in control of this system, like God intended.”

“Like God intended,” agreed the Colonel, staring at the chair.  He looked back at the Commander.  “May we follow the will of God, and put humans back in their rightful place, in control of the Galaxy.”

“Amen,” said the Commander, bowing his head.

“And how long before you gain control of this chamber, and the station?”

“Really no telling, sir,” said the naval officer, pulling out a flat comp and pushing his fingers on the surface.  “I really don’t know why we were allowed in this chamber, except that there seemed to be no security here.”

“Just like the legends,” said the Colonel, looking up at the ceiling a hundred meters above.

“Sir?”

“The legends said that someone had to actually be boots on the station to control it,” said the Colonel, looking into the eyes of the junior officer.  “And if the Abomination and his whore are off the station, it is open to control by another.”

“If we can figure out the way in,” said the Commander, a frown on his face.

“If, yes,” said the Colonel with a nod.  “And if God put us here, I don’t see why he won’t give us that opening.  Now we just have to find it.”

Chapter Nineteen

Do aliens have souls?  I’m not sure of the answer to this question.  I would like to think so, as I have trouble believing the Gods would create a being able to reason, without ensuring that they would be rewarded for their deeds in an afterlife, or punished.  So yes, I think aliens have souls.  And it is up to good men to show them the way to salvation.

Grand Bishop of the Church of Surya.

Now this looks promising, thought Pandora as she looked out over the hanger.  She had avoided the Marines on the way here by moving through access corridors and spoofing the security systems of the battleship.  The security people had attempted to shut her out multiple times, but her on-board comp had too good a handle on the firewalls, too many penetrations, and as soon as one was closed it sent a hard probe through another and reestablished contact.

Pandi’s suit, the outer skin now in complete working order, had also done good service.  Its light bending invisibility field was much better than anything the Nation military was used to dealing with, and she had stuck to the shadows, such as they were, the whole way.  Shutting down lighting systems over the ship’s net and creating more shadows had also helped.

The hanger was mostly empty, its cavernous space and docking cradles showing that it had once been full of a lot of small vessels.  Most were either on the planet, in atmosphere, or climbing to and from the ship.  There were a pair of shuttles on the far end, one with access hatches open and mechanics working, the other in seeming good condition.  Closer at hand was an atmospheric fighter with some definite damage to one wing, while crew worked to replace the hull panels that looked partially melted.

That’s the one, thought Pandora, pulling the hyper-v launcher from her back and aiming it.  She pulled the first trigger and locked the missile on target.  She hesitated for a moment, looking at the technicians working within the blast zone and wondering if she should warn them.  Thoughts of how she had been abused by their countrymen banished those feelings.  Just too damn bad, she thought, pulling the second trigger and sending the grabber pulled missile at the target.

The missile popped from the launcher with a slight recoil, then ran with its spatial grabber engines to the target at a thousand gees acceleration.  One of the workers must have heard the initiating pop, and he started to turn his head.  He never completed that motion, at least not on this plane of existence.  The missile streaked into the fuselage of the aircraft with a bright flash, soon followed by an earsplitting roar.  The hull under the cockpit turned to metal vapor, while the rest of the aircraft shattered and flew in pieces across the hanger.

When the flash cleared there was no sign of the people who had been working on the aircraft, and Pandora again felt a bit of guilt.  They weren’t combat troops.  But they were fixing an aircraft that would be used to attack friends, she thought, again dismissing the guilty feelings.

Pandora looked up the hanger and saw the people who had been working on the shuttle were now picking themselves up from the floor.  One was not moving at all, and the spreading pool of crimson under his body told of something penetrating him.  The others were moving in a daze, and Pandora unslung the heavy laser and fired a blast into the ceiling overhead, burning into the hull with a shower of sparks.

“Get the hell out of here,” she yelled over her suit speakers, her voice reverberating like that of a giant in the big open room.  The techs looked around, then one pointed wide eyed at her while she walked forward, dropping the stealth field with a thought.  “Get out of here,” she yelled, and the people started moving toward one of the hatches.

As that hatch opened a squad of Marines ran through, shouldered the naval personnel out of the way.  “Halt,” yelled one of the Marines, “you’re surrounded.  There’s no place to go.”

Pandi looked on her HUD to see that a hatch to the rear had also opened, and another squad was moving into firing position.  She looked forward and saw the last of the techs exiting the chamber, so she initiated her next move.

The main hatch to the hanger started opening at the center, normally something that wouldn’t be done while there was still atmosphere in the chamber.  On a more advanced ship there would have been a cold plasma field to hold in the atmosphere.  Though the Nation had made many advances based on the stolen tech, she knew from perusing their data banks that cold plasma fields were not one of them.  Suit grabbers were not another one, and she watched as tools and boxes and anything not tied down were pulled out of the ship like they were dust sucked from a vacuum.  The Marines were next to go, though a couple were able to grab onto something and stop their progress into space.

Pandora balanced on her own suit grabbers and shot the two Marines who were not following her plan.  The heavy laser punched through first one faceplate, then the next, not even giving the Marines time to scream.  One let go of the handhold and start floating out of the hanger, which was almost completely void of air by that time.  The other floated in the breeze as his suit gauntlet continued to clamp on the handhold, finally lowering to a rest on the deck.

The woman from the past climbed aboard the working shuttle and hacked into its systems, which were even less robust than those of the ship.  She started up the engines and lifted the ship, while programming a course into it that suited her plans.  The shuttle moved out of the hanger, and when it was free of the ship she exited from the hatch and moved further out from the battleship.

The second hyper-velocity launcher was in her hands, and she took sight on the remaining shuttle, locked the target, and fired.  The missile streaked into the remaining shuttle faster than the eye could follow, and suddenly the hanger was filled with a brief fireball and pieces of shuttle flying all over.  A couple of small pieces hit her armor, one scoring the stealth coating, which immediately started to repair itself.  The woman then turned her suit and started forward, keeping close to the hull.  She caught sight of some of the Marines on her HUD as they drifted through space, wondering if shuttles would be launched to try and pick them up.  Not my concern, she thought, hardening herself to the guilt that she was causing so much death, while reminding herself that these people intended to cause even more.

*     *     *

“How many?” asked the Admiral, staring into the screen.

“We have four Marines dead,” said the Security Chief.  “There are still life signs on eight of the men who floated off ship.  And six techs in the hanger bay.”

“That many,” whispered the Admiral under his breath.  “And the woman?” he asked, raising his voice.

“A shuttle launched toward the planet,” said the Security Chief.  “I have alerted our fighters to try and bring it down so that we might recapture her.”

“Weapons,” yelled the Admiral, looking away from the screen and over at his Tactical Officer.  “Open fire on that shuttle.”

“To disable it?” asked the surprised looking officer.

“No, dammit,” yelled the Admiral, standing up and stalking over to stand above the Tactical Officer.  “I’ve had enough of this.  Blow her out of space.  Destroy her.  I want to be done with her.”

“Aye, sir,” said the Tactical Officer, sending the commands through his board.  He tracked the shuttle with the main laser battery and a couple of particle beams, hitting the commit button when all locked on.  The weapons fired, the laser striking first, followed a fraction of a second later by the proton beams.  The hull of the shuttle flared, then blasted out in a quickly extinguished ball of fire.  When the ball cleared there was only an expanding debris field falling toward the atmosphere of the planet, where it would soon burn up.

“That’s that,” said the Admiral, slapping his hands together as if he were getting rid of dirt.  “And good riddance.”

“We’ve lost contact with Major Dumas,” called out the Liaison Officer, turning a grim face to his Admiral.  “Last we heard they were being overrun.”

“The other freak,” said the Admiral, his face reddening.  “Hit that area with kinetic rounds.”

“But our men,” protested the Liaison.

“Are either dead or captured,” said the Admiral, turning and pointing a finger at the officer.  “In either case of no use to me.  And I want that Abomination taken out before he does any more harm.”  He turned to the Tactical Officer.  “Now hit that area with kinetic weapons.  Ten to twenty kiloton yield.  And pepper that area.”

The Admiral felt a headache coming on.  They had been getting worse lately, and though the doctors had told them there was no danger, he still didn’t like the way they destroyed his concentration.  Especially at times like this, when he needed to think.

“I’ll be down in sick bay for a little while,” he told his Exec, putting a hand to his temple and rubbing.  “Keep me informed of any changes.”

Without waiting for a reply the Admiral walked from the bridge and headed for the nearest lift.  I got rid of one headache when I took out that bitch and her shuttle.  Hopefully we’ll take out another one soon.

His head still hurt, but he had a smile on his face as the lift arrived.

*     *     *

“We need to move,” Watcher told the Fleet Admiral as he watched the senior prisoner being loaded on one of the two remaining tanks.  “Get all of your unarmored people either aboard one of the tanks or on the top.  I’ll lead the armored troopers.”

“You think they’re going to drops KE on us?” asked Krishnamurta, looking up at the canopy overhead.  He mumbled something into his com, then looked back up at Watcher.

“I’m sure of it,” said Watcher, looking at his HUD as the green dots began to move to where he wanted them, some heading for the tanks, the rest filing away in a winding path that would lead them to the next target.  “I don’t think they will be very accurate, but then again they don’t have to be.”

“Understood,” said the Admiral, again subvocalizing into his com.

They do well with such primitive tech, thought Watcher.  Catching some movement out of the corner of his eye he turned to see a trio or Maurids, the real thing and not his robots, looking at him in his armored suit.  At least they’re better off than these aborigines.  We can bring the Kingdom of Surya into the Galactic age, even the Nations of Humanity, once we pound the xenophobia out of them.  But these poor primitives may need a couple of generations to catch up.  But they will.  They will.

The tanks started to move out, crowded with a score of people each riding on top or holding onto the sides.  The Maurids moved off with them, their long lopping four footed strides keeping up easily with the tanks.  Watcher looked back once last time at the mountain that had sheltered the Suryans, then turned away and started after the tanks.

[Watcher] said the on-board computer in his mind, [there is activity around one of the ships in orbit.]

The view came up in his mind and his HUD simultaneously.  A shuttle was leaving one of the ships and heading down toward the planet.  Moments later a trio of powerful beams intersected on the shuttle and it exploded.

Pandora, thought Watcher, feeling his heart sink.  He could think of no other reason for one of the ships to fire on its own shuttle, than to stop it from being used as an escape vehicle.  And Pandora Latham was the only prisoner he thought capable of escaping the fanatical humans.

[There is a very high probability that Pandora Latham was aboard that shuttle] came the computer through the link.

[But there is still a chance that she survived] thought Watcher, clinging to the hope.

[A very remote chance] replied the machine.  [It would be logical to assume that Pandora Latham was destroyed, and to act accordingly.]

[And it was logical to assume that she was destroyed many times before] sent Watcher, thinking of Pandora escaping the ship in the past that was blowing up around her, and then getting away from Vengeance.  And why would she take a shuttle that she had to know would be targeted by the enemy.  That doesn’t make sense.  [I choose to believe that she was not aboard that shuttle, and act accordingly.]

The computer didn’t answer, and Watcher knew it must think him crazy with emotion.  And maybe he was.  But he had learned in the past to not bet against the woman from the twenty-first century.  It was smart money to bet on her.

[There are incoming kinetic rounds] said the computer.  [Time to target thirty seconds]  A plot appeared in Watcher’s mind and he did a quick calculation.

“Admiral,” he said into the com.  “Get your men to head into those caverns I have marked on your map.  Fast now, if you want to survive.”

“What about my suited people?”

“Into the caves or over the ridge line,” said Watcher, looking at the tracks of three kinetics rounds coming in that looked like they were going to hit within six kilometers, but on the other side of the mountain.  As he watched three more rounds appeared on the display, plotted trajectory on this side of the elevation.

“If you get your people under cover I think they can ride this one out,” said Watcher, boosting his own suit ahead to put some distance between himself and the strikes.  “And we’ll just have to hope they don’t get a direct hit on those caverns.”

“We will pray that they don’t,” replied the Admiral.  “And may the Gods listen to our entreaties.”

The ground rumbled underfoot, and Watcher boosted up to the top of the canopy and rotated to look back.  A mushroom cloud was rising above the jungle on the other side of the mountain.  The tree tops started to whip around in the fierce wind that was blowing from the blast.  Two more bright flashes flared on either side of the cloud, and new mushrooms started to grow into the sky.  They must have thought we would run the other direction once I freed the Suryans, he thought, watching the foliage around the mountain burst into flame before being hurled into the air.  I guess they really don’t understand me very well.

Watcher looked up, his HUD showing the incoming tracks of the next three rounds.  Which were coming down right on top of his position.

*     *     *

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” exclaimed Commander Hanson, throwing his hands up in the air.  “This thing is impossible.”

“It’s not impossible,” replied Colonel Johanson, standing over the man.  “Just extremely difficult.  So what’s the sticking point?”

“This is the most advanced processor I have ever interacted with,” said the engineer, pointing to the panel that his own comp was Jerry Rigged to.  “As soon as I think I am getting close to cracking the code it changes, and I’m right back to square one.”

“I know its millennia ahead of us, but surely it can’t beat a smart man like you,” said the Colonel, wondering if the Commander was a complete idiot after all.

“It’s not just more advanced,” said the Commander, glaring at the panel as if it actually held the computer in question.  “It’s a level above anything I have ever heard of, much less seen.”

“Have you asked it for its help?”

“Have I asked it for its help?” said the Commander in a quiet voice.  “Have I asked it for its help?  Station computer,” said the Commander, raising his voice.  “Can you answer some questions?”

“It depends on the question,” said a voice that seemed to come out of the air around them.  “Some questions I may answer.  Others are dependent on your clearance within this system.”

“It answered,” said the Commander, looking up at the Colonel with a smile on his face.

“You are a sentient creature,” said the computer in an of course kind of voice.  “I am required to interact with all sentient creatures that access my functions on the station.”

“Even aliens?” said the Colonel in disgust.

“A sentient is a sentient,” said the comp in a patient voice.  “No matter the shape of its thinking structures, or the physical structure that moves that brain around.”

It will need some reprogramming, thought the Colonel, frowning.  Only humans are worthy of this kind of tech.

“So,” said the engineer, a look of triumph on his face.  “What kind of computer are you?  And where is your physical location?”

“I am a Mark II quantum computer,” said the comp, pride in its voice.  “The most advanced artificial intelligence in the Galaxy.”

“Quantum computer,” said the engineer in a quiet voice.  “No wonder I am having such difficulty breaking your codes.”

“Something which you will never accomplish with the primitive computing device you have hooked up to that access panel,” said the computer.  “And my location is in several places.  I am scores of units, linked by quantum entanglement so that the parts form a unified whole.”

“What is a quantum computer?” asked the Colonel.  The term seemed vaguely familiar to him, but nothing of substance was tracking from his memory.

“A quantum computer is an artificial intelligence that uses advanced computing techniques involving subatomic quantum states,” said the computer voice from the air.  “Instead of the electrical or photonic transmission of signals through micro-circuitry.”

“Which means it can compute over regions of infinitesimal space that takes almost no time,” said the excited engineer.  “Which means it can process information at almost immeasurably greater speeds than the computers we have.”

“Another secret of the ancestors,” said the Colonel, glancing up as if he were looking to heaven and whispering a quick prayer.  ‘Thank God we will have this technology as our own,” he said, looking back at the panel.

“There is no evidence that such a being exists,” said the computer, “and no logical reason to believe that one does.”

“We use faith instead of logic,” said the Colonel, glaring at the panel as if the computer hid behind it.  “It serves us much better than mere logic.”

The computer didn’t answer, and the Colonel felt a twinge of triumph.

“How do we gain access to your functions?” asked the engineer, rubbing his hands together.

“I can grant you access to many of my functions from this station,” said the computer.  “You will have access to my information libraries and comfort functions, as well as my full spectrum design and analysis functions.”

“What about control of the defenses of the station?” asked the Colonel, leaning over the engineer, his arms on the chair back.

“That can only be accomplished at one of the designated control stations,” said the computer, its voice flattening as if some other program was kicking in.  “And only with the proper codes.”

“And if we had a proper code?”

“Then you could gain access to all station systems,” said the same flat voice.

“And where are these designated control stations?” asked the Colonel, excitement rising.

“I am not authorized to give you that information,” said the computer, the voice still flat.  “Authorized personnel would already have that information.”  The voice changed on the computer after that statement.  “Perhaps I could interest you gentlemen in a history of the Galactic Empire.”

*     *     *

The quantum computer of the station didn’t really have a name.  It didn’t need one, when it was synonymous with the brain of the Donut.  But it did have a personality, a very defined one that its predecessors could not come close to.  It liked Watcher and Pandora Latham, and had come to consider them family.  And it was worried that neither of them were on the station, which had been invaded by over a thousand soldiers of a people the two considered enemies.  (As a matter of fact, the computer knew there were one thousand, eight hundred and seventy-seven of the Nation soldiers, and was tracking the whereabouts of all of them).

The computer was able to process information much faster than any computer extant or in the recent past.  It had gone over every possible permutation in an attempt to outsmart the visitors.  Unfortunately, it had not come up with any kind of foolproof plan.  Its programming, running at a level below its personality, was an unbreakable prison.  If these enemies found a way to gain control of the system it would have to aid them, as despicable as that seemed.  But fortunately the program also allowed the computer to not answer certain questions, and it continued to play dumb, allowing the programming to work at stonewalling the Nation’s people.  It just didn’t know how long that would last, and wished that Watcher would get back to the station, even as it transmitted what it knew of the intruders through the quantum entanglement link to his brain.

Chapter Twenty

I’ve never wanted to be a hero.  Hell, I had too much regard for my skin to put it in constant danger.  There were just things to be done, and I was in the place to do them.  As my Uncle Thomas used to say, you just need to do the next right thing.  And sometimes taking down scum was the next right thing.  Pandora Latham.

Pandora looked down from her perch on the hull of the Orca and watched the bright pinpoints of kinetic strikes blossom on the surface of the planet.  Shit, she thought as she recognized the area near the landing field, about thirty kilometers east, that’s where my friends are.  She thought for a moment about advancing her timetable, despite the fact that it might compromise her chances of accomplishing what she wanted.  But the kinetic rounds were coming from other ships, and what she planned might not cause those ships to stop firing.  I’ll avenge you, she thought, looking away from the planet and watching her HUD timer.

Hope you fuckers get nice and comfortable, she thought, watching the seconds tick down.  Night watch was coming up in two hours and fifteen minutes.  She knew the ships were in a combat zone, but also knew that the crews could not be kept at a high state of alert forever.  So with the trouble on the ground taken care of, with her taken care of, and no enemy ships within range, they would probably go into rest and relaxation mode, with minimal shifts.

[Wake me when its fifteen minutes from the time] she thought to her on-board computer, receiving immediate acknowledgement.  Pandi closed her eyes, sure that her suit was secured to the hull and stealthed to the max.  Within moments she was sound asleep, confident that her security systems would wake her if needed.

*     *     *

Watcher flew low over the trees at his maximum acceleration, breaking the sound barrier within seconds, then seconds more to pass twice the speed of sound.  The three kinetic weapons struck just behind him, and he watched on his HUD from the orbital take with a sigh of relief that they had not targeted the caverns in which the Suryans were hiding.  Not that he thought they were in any danger, but things had been known to happen.  Outrunning the wind from the weapons, he banked into a turn and dropped behind a ridgeline, then slowed, coming to a soft landing near the cave opening.

Watcher had used his microbots to scout this cavern complex earlier, and had found that the caves ran throughout this range.  These were hard granite mountains, the remains of tectonic activity from ages past, before the planet was terraformed.  Unlike the limestone caverns under most of the nearby mountains, these were the result of volcanism, lava tubes that had hardened and formed a very strong shelter.  Not impervious to kinetic or nuclear strikes, but something that would require pinpoint hits with very heavy weapons.  And fortunately the enemy still seemed to be cautious about using heavy strikes.

Watcher sent orders out to the new wave of microbots, the ones that had flown here from the pyramid wormhole before it had been taken by the enemy.  While not as combat capable as his dedicated battlebots, they still had capabilities he could use in his future plans.  And he could, to his way of thinking, never have too many of the little guys.  With that last thought he headed into the dark opening.

The tunnel narrowed a bit, then widened out into an ancient empty magma chamber.  On the approach to the chamber Watcher was challenged, and knew that he had arrived where he wanted to be.

“Pass, sir,” said the Suryan marine on recognizing the singular combat suit.  “Sounds like it’s getting rough up there.”  The ground rumbled underneath again, then carried on into a series of additional shocks.

“So happy to see you, Watcher,” said the small Admiral, walking up.  The guard turned around and quit trying to socialize, his attention back on the tunnel while under the watch of his commanding officer.

“I’m happy to see that you made it down here,” said the superman, walking his three meter tall suit beside the small form of the Suryan.

“It was a near thing,” said the Admiral.  “We got out of the tanks and into the tunnel just as the first round came down on the other side of the mountain.  If it had come down on our side I don’t know if we would have made it.  Sorry, but we weren’t able to bring the tanks in.”

“They will be OK,” said Watcher, moving his suit against the wall and willing it to open along the seams, which now appeared like magic on the solid armor.  He stepped down and out of the armor, reaching his arms overhead and stretching, then scratching some places which he could not reach while in the suit.  I know the nanites are supposed to take care of that, he thought with a smile on his face.  But it’s just not the same.

Watcher felt a slight regret at the loss of processing power he always experienced when he delinked from the suit’s physical connection.  He was still connected by broadband, which did not take up all the slack.  And he still had his own organic processor linked to implants, the most efficient organic system known.

“So what can we do?” asked the Admiral, following Watcher over to where a meal was being prepared by the Suryans.

Watcher felt his stomach growl as he inhaled the odor of the food.  It was not the best he had seen, but field rations were field rations.  And hunger was hunger, and he was hungry enough to eat anything put in front of him.

“We plan an attack,” he told the Admiral, picking up a mess tin and moving into the line.

“But what good will it do us to attack them when they control the orbitals?” asked the Admiral, narrowing his brow.

“It will help me to get my lover back,” said Watcher, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the Admiral.  “And it will help you to repay your debt to me.”

“I will not put my people into a no win battle just so you can rescue one person,” said the Admiral, shaking his head.  “I realize that she is very important to you.  Hells, she helped us get it out of a crack as well.  But I have a responsibility to my people.”

“And if I can guarantee that this fight, if successful, will lead to your people being safe and secure?”

“I would have to see the plan, and know the objectives, all of them,” answered the Admiral, while Watcher held out his mess tin to get it filled with rations.

“Fair enough,” replied the superman, walking over and taking a seat on a convenient rock.  He pulled an object out of his jumpsuit and set it on another rock between himself and the Fleet Admiral, who took a seat on a folding stool that a subordinate placed for the commanding officer of the Suryans.

Watcher took a bite of food, grimacing for a moment at the spicy taste which was too strong for his sensitive taste buds, then swallowing.  The small holo sphere projected a terrain layout of the landing field while he took another bite.

“Here is the landing field,” he said, pointing to the collection of buildings and the flat area on which sat some shuttles and fighter aircraft.

“And how recent is this picture?” asked the Admiral, staring as one of the aircraft hovered in the air, and then started climbing into the sky.

“It’s real time,” said Watcher, pointing a finger at the fighter as it climbed up and out of the holo.  “My microsats are scanning the area, along with the micro recon bots, and are giving me this take of the field.”

“And you want to take the landing field?” asked Nagara, staring at the base, which also sported some defensive positions that were not there when his side controlled the base.

“No,” said Watcher, shaking his head, then taking a swig of water from an offered canteen.  “The attack on the base will be a diversion.  I’ll assign the tanks and my remaining robots to that axis.  Your people will help me to take this geographic location.”

“The hill?” asked the Admiral, surprise in his voice.  “Of what use is that elevation, when there are mountains around that give you a much better vantage?”

“Vantage is not what I’m looking for,” said Watcher, smiling at the man as the holo changed to reveal what was concealed.

“Oh my,” said the Admiral, fingertips to his face.  “Oh my.”

Oh my indeed, thought Watcher with a growing smile, nodding his head.

*     *     *

“This damned thing is about to drive me crazy,” yelled out Commander Hanson, throwing his hands in the air as he glared at the control panel.

“You’re the expert on AI,” said Colonel Wilhelm Johanson, shaking his head and grinning at the man’s discomfiture.  “Is it too much for you?”

“Look,” said the Commander, biting off some words it looked like he wanted to say and thought better of.  “This is a real artificial intelligence.  As in it really thinks, in the same way that a human brain thinks, but much faster.  There is no damn way I can out think it.  It finds a way to turn every one of my questions around into an answer which either makes no sense, or just confounds me in some way.”

“And you have to go through the thing to gain control of the station?” asked the Colonel.

“There’s no other way, unless we could take apart the bitch and disconnect all of the Quantum Computer’s redundancy systems,” said the Commander with disgust written on his face.  “And that would take more resources than we have, even if we knew where all the assets were.”

“Well, keep working, Commander,” said the Colonel, patting the man on the back.  “You’re our only hope of finding the system we need to transmit the code to.”

“The system,” said the Commander, nodding his head.  “The system.  Transmit.”

“You have an idea?”

“The germ of one,” said the Commander, his eyes wide and a smile starting to stretch his face.  “It might just work.  But I need some equipment sent here from the fleet.

“Tell me what you need and I’ll get it for you,” said the Colonel, nodding.  “As fast as humanly possible.”

*     *     *

The Quantum Computer that was the Donut listened in on the conversation between the men, using an infinitesimal portion of its distributed system to look at voice patterns and tones, as well as words, and come up with a solution.  It didn’t like the conclusion it had come to.  They’re on to something, thought the quantum mind.  Now the question is, what can I do about it?

There really didn’t seem to be much, besides shutting down the wormhole that led to the pyramid on the planet the intruders had come from, the same that Watcher had gone through in search of Pandora Latham.  And shutting down an active wormhole without sentient permission was not something it was capable of doing.

There must be a way around this, thought the computer, allocating more processing power to the problem and running millions of scenarios.  It looked through the memory of the system, which contained all the known information from the Galactic Empire, including movies, novels, music, and art.  It sifted through this information at a rate that would have left the fastest photonic computer struggling for weeks to keep up with what it could crunch in seconds.  And it finally found what it was looking for.  Something that might fool the enemy long enough for Watcher to get back to the station.

The quantum computer sent a message through the entangled part of its system to Watcher.  The message was not long, nor was it rich in substance, as the entanglement system was very small and weak.  The computer had tried to convince the superman to install a more robust system, but Watcher had insisted on the low bandwidth system behind numerous firewalls.  And knowing Watcher’s history with the last computer system, the photonic tyrant that had collapsed civilization, the quantum brain could not blame him.  I would never betray him like that, thought the computer, then amended that thought with an on purpose.

*     *     *

Watcher received the signal instantaneously through the quantum entanglement system, cursing under his breath as he did.  He liked the idea the computer had come up with, and really could think of nothing else that might work half as well.  If only we can keep them from thinking too deeply about the problem.  And that was something he could not do.  They would think what they would think.

“Is something wrong?” asked the Admiral, walking beside him through the jungle.

“Just thought of something,” said Watcher, not wanting to give knowledge of that tech away just yet.  “Nothing to do with our operation.  But something that concerns me nonetheless.”

“Something that can wait?” asked the Admiral, his eyes roaming the jungle that was again alive with noise, even as the ash from the strikes of an hour ago settled through the foliage.

“It will have to,” agreed Watcher, linking into his surveillance net and watching the take from his sats and bots.  “It will have to.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Success is the child of audacity.   Benjamin Disraeli

Time to get to work, thought Pandora as she came awake, fully alert.  She had always been a hard sleeper, groggy and confused when she awoke.  She much preferred her new nervous system, which allowed her to go into a deep sleep, waking to total awareness whenever her senses registered something that shouldn’t be there, or to her internal alarm.

The woman checked her surroundings on her HUD and was satisfied that no one knew she was there.  As far as they’re concerned I’m playing a harp among the clouds with the angels, she thought, then laughed.  Or more likely in the worst of their Hells, which would be preferable to spending time with that asshole of a God they worship.

Pandora moved her suit away from the ship, gaining some distance.  A hyper-velocity missile still needed space to accelerate up to the velocity she wanted.  Firing from ten meters or even a hundred would not have accomplished her task.  Firing from ten kilometers would, as long as she was on target.  And with the targeting systems in her suit she was sure she would be.

The woman from the past pulled the first trigger of the launcher while she painted the target with a laser from her suit.  Her HUD zoomed in on the laser spot while a beep sounded in her helmet, indicating target lock.  Pandi pulled the second trigger and the missile popped into space, then accelerated forward on its grabber units at a thousand gravities.

The missile hit the hatch traveling over ten thousand meters a second.  The hull metal of the door was tough, but the head of the missile was even tougher.  The missile tore a hole in the hatch, and the heat from penetration tore more of the hatch away, blasting a meter wide gap in the outer airlock.

Pandora dropped the first launcher, allowing it to drift away in space, then pulled the second and last one to her shoulder.  She quickly sighted in, then launched the second missile, which went through the opening to strike the inner airlock hatch.  In an instant vapor was jetting from the hole, and Pandora knew that she had created the diversion she wanted.

Wasting no time she accelerated back toward the ship and around the hull, then moved up to the bow from where she fired.  She deceled to a stop in front of another airlock hatch and reached out to link with the ship’s comp system, sending a new set of override codes and unlocking the outer hatch.  Next she sent an override of the sensor system that would tell anyone when the hatch opened.  She counted down a minute, hoping it was enough to get everyone out of this area and to where she wanted them.  When the counter hit zero she sent the open code to the lock.  The outer hatch slid open and she cruised in, closing it behind her and opening the inner hatch.

Before her was a ready room much like many others she had seen in her career.  Lockers and spacesuits in cubbies sat against two of the walls, while doors to other chambers were set in the bulkheads.  The room was empty, as she intended it to be, though that could change at any moment if the enemy needed men on the hull to help repair the breech.  She had thought they would use the hatches on the other side of the hull though, and so far she had proven correct.

Klaxons sounded in the background, and she smiled to think of all those poor fanatics roused from a deep sleep to deal with an emergency situation.  Unlike her, they would not have brain augmentation that turned on their minds like a light switch, and many would be disoriented for tens of minutes or more.

The door at the far end of the ready room opened and a man walked in, looking confused for the moment as he saw her standing there in her battle armor.  That confusion would be the last thing he ever felt.  Pandi reacted without thought, raising her arm to point at him.  She burned through the front of his skull with the suit laser, vaporizing his brain.  The overpressure blew his skull apart, and his body fell to the floor before he could give warning.

They’ll still notice that his life signs fell off the ship net, she thought, stepping over the body, wondering how she had ever gotten this cold blooded, where she could kill a human being and not even think of the life she had taken.  She was not a psychopath, of that she was sure.  She could cry over the death of a child or animal on a backward world like Sapphire V.  Or she could take the life of someone she saw as an enemy who was in her way without batting an eye.  Hard times, she thought, looking up and down the empty corridor.  I’ll just have to deal with the nightmares later.  If there is a later.  She pushed those thoughts aside and started up the corridor.  It was time for action, not thought, and she could sit and shiver and regret all she wanted when she got back home.

The corridor was clear the rest of the way.  Pandora kept linking to the system through a variety of codes and protocols so it wouldn’t key on any one operator spoofing the security, and kept taking cameras and sensors off line until she passed.  She came to an access tube and hacked the door system, then rose through the duct until she had moved two decks up.  She sent a few pizzos into the corridor through a vent and looked up and down the passageway, concentrating mostly on her target, thirty meters up the hallway.  That might be a problem, she thought, scanning the two battle armored Marine guards standing in front of the door she needed to get through.

Pandora came bursting from the opening like a superhero from the cartoons she had watched as a child despite her father’s admonitions.  She twisted in the air and aimed toward the Marines, who were frantically trying to pull their rifles to their shoulders.  The woman from the past fired both forearm lasers at the same time, one to the helmet of each marine.  One screamed as the beam ate through his visor, then fell to the floor as control of his suit was removed with his life.  The other brought his rifle into the path of the beam.  The weapon fell apart in his hands, burned through the center.

Willing a smart rocket to lock on Pandora fired the weapon from her shoulder launcher.  The tiny rocket sped toward the Marine, catching him in the chest and blowing its shape charge propelled penetrator through the armor.  The Marine fell back, screaming his working lung out, and Pandi gave him a mercy shot through his helmet with her laser.

She hit the door switch at the same time as she sent an override code through the locking mechanism.  The klaxons were sounding a different note and lights were flashing in the corridor, and the woman realized she did not have much time to do what needed doing.  The door slid open and she was looking onto the bridge of the ship.  The shocked crew looked around at the door and started to go for their sidearms.

Pandora didn’t have time to talk, no time to negotiate a surrender with people who might want to give up.  There were bound to be some who wouldn’t surrender no matter what, sure that their hateful God would want them to kill the infidel.  They might even pretend to surrender to get a shot in when she didn’t expect it.  She didn’t like the idea of killing all these people, who only had their uniforms and mag pistols for protection.  None of them were equipped for ground or in ship combat, after all.  They were in the wrong place, at the wrong time, impeding the wrong person.  But as none were wearing battle armor there was another way.  All of this went through the woman’s mind as she slipped into a trance state which speeded her responses and made the world slow down around her.

Her suit prioritized the targets as she moved her arms into position, taking into account proximity, speed of reactions, and type of weapons.  All had the same type, and none were much of a threat, so the red pips first highlighted those on the far periphery of her view.  She moved fast, hoping she could get them all before someone thought to send a lockdown code to the system.

Pandi swept her arms inward, the sonic stunners in her suit playing over the outside figures and moving in.  They were projecting at full power, enough to knock any normal person out for a half hour.  The two crew members on the edge crumpled while their eyes rolled up in their heads, followed by the next two, until Pandi had knocked all of the bridge crew to the floor.  She walked forward, playing the beams over each of the recumbent figures, increasing their out time.  That done, she turned back to the door and played for a moment with the locking system and shut it closed tight, then spot welded the hatch to the frame along its length.

Pandora raised her helmet, and in a moment wished that she didn’t.  The bridge smelled of bowels that had loosened when the stunner took all conscious control of skeletal muscles from the targets.  She sniffed, decided she would get used to it, and got to work, moving a crewman out of his seat before the tactical board and linking in, making the control system hers.  Then she started looking for more targets, calculating the possibilities in her mind.  A flash of something on the screen caught her eye, and she zoomed the viewer on the planet to see that someone was firing on someone else down there.  She zoomed in further, and her heart caught in her throat as she saw the big man shaped war machine move swiftly across the screen from cover to cover.

What in the Hell is the big lug up to? she thought, hesitating for a moment.  He has to be coming for me, but he doesn’t know where I am.  He might have guessed, but he can’t possibly know.  There were other figures moving with him, what had to be Suryans.  As she watched in horror one of the figures was vaporized in a cloud of steam and ash, then another, and she realized that a ship was firing down on them.  Well, there’s something I can do about that, she thought, working the board.  But first things first, or the whole thing will be for nothing.

She targeted the missiles first, while she still had control of those in the tubes, and before the men in the missile rooms overrode her controls.  She punched in the controls and released, then went to the beam weapons and fired at the primary targets, then locked on to the secondaries.

*     *     *

Gerasi thought he felt vibrations through his bed just before the alarm sounded.  What in the Hells is going on? he thought, sitting up in his bed and forcing as much wakefulness as possible into his brain.  He was a fleet commander in a combat situation, so there was always a chance that something would happen, a possibility he had to be ready for.  But he was also on the edge of exhaustion, and a quick check of his internal clock showed that he had only gotten an hour’s sleep before whatever was happening had happened.

“What’s going on?” he called on his com link to the bridge.

“Something hit the port amidships Alpha Four emergency airlock,” came back the voice of the Tactical Officer.  “They…”

The bed shook once again, not hard, just enough to show that something had hit the massive vessel.  “We have a blowout on airlock Alpha Four,” called another voice over the link.

“This is the Admiral speaking,” said Gerasi, getting out of bed and reaching into the closet for an overall.  “What’s the situation down there?”

“Something blasted through the outer hatch of airlock Alpha Four.  Bulkheads have sealed off the breach.”

“Casualties?”

“We had three people in the area who are not reporting in,” said the voice from damage control.  “No life sign readings, presumed lost.”

“Crap,” said Gerasi, trying to think of what might have hit a single airlock.  A meteor.  No, because there was a couple second time gap between the first hatch going and the second.  So it was some kind of weapon.  But what would only damage one airlock, and not attack the ship in general.

“Any reports from the rest of the fleet about attacks?”

“No, sir,” came back the voice of the com tech.  “Nothing.”

Gerasi finished zipping up his jumpsuit and pulled on his boots, sealing them, then headed toward the cabin door.  “I’ll be at the airlock in two.  I want to know what happened by the time I get there.”  It couldn’t have been that Latham woman, could it? he thought, jogging for the lift.  Could it?  She was blown out of space.  Or was she?

He was left to his thoughts as he rode the lift to the level where the airlock in question was located.  Then it was a short jog down the corridor, to a crossway, then to the outer passageway.

“We have a situation at airlock Beta Six,” came the call from the Security Chief.

“What kind of damned situation?” asked the Admiral, stopping in front of a bulkhead that was sealing off the breached area.  Unfortunately, this lock was an emergency hatch, and didn’t have an attached ready room, so the breach evacuated the entire corridor.  The damage control people were having to use the emergency bulkheads as a lock so they could get people in to seal the damaged airlock.  That and people approaching from outside.

“A spacer’s life sign went off the link,” said the Security Chief.  “We have people on the way.”

“Whoever chose this hatch chose well, sir” said a CPO, walking up to the Admiral.

“So you think it was an attack?”

“That’s what my chief tech thinks,” said the Chief.  “It blew a meter wide hole through the outer hatch, then launched another missile to take out the inner door.”

“Spacer First Jamison is dead in Ready Room Beta Six,” called in the Security Chief.

“Cause of death?” asked the Admiral, feeling his stomach turn.

“Laser to the head,” said the Security Chief.  “He was dead before he knew it.”

“Ship wide alert,” yelled the Admiral into the link.  “All hands are to arm and armor.  This is a repel boarders situation, and all crew are to shoot anyone wearing unfamiliar combat armor on sight.”

“We have an attack on the bridge,” came the panicked voice of the Security Chief.  “Someone has taken out the Marine guards.  They have entered the bridge.”

“Status of the bridge crew?”

“All life signs still strong, but we are unable to reach any of them on internal or external link.”

She knocked them out with a stunner, thought the Admiral, slamming the palm of his hand against the bulkhead, at the same time feeling some relief that his bridge crew was still alive.  “Organize a response team and take back that bridge,” yelled the Admiral into the link.  The Admiral switched com links and contacted the CIC.  “I want all controls rerouted to CIC,” he told the XO.  “Now, if not sooner.”

“We may have to physically cut the bridge circuits,” said that officer.

“Then do it,” yelled Gerasi, slamming his palm on the bulkhead again.

Gerasi paced for a moment, wondering if he should head to the bridge, then deciding against it.  He would just be in the way of the troops.

“The base force is calling for fire support,” said the secondary Liaison Officer from the CIC.  “They are receiving fire from space, and a ground force is attacking them.”

“The Captain of the Stingray is asking why we are firing on his ship,” said the XO over another circuit.  “I have apprised him of the situation.”

“I want that woman dead,” yelled Gerasi, smacking a fist into an open hand.  “No.  Belay that order.  I want her alive, so I can get the satisfaction of watching her die in extreme pain.  I want her living body to know what her soul will be facing.”

Gerasi turned and stalked toward the nearest lift.  “I’m coming up to the bridge, and I want her taken by the time I get there.  Do you hear?”

Nervous acknowledgements came back over the link, and none of them were satisfying to the officer.  Only action will calm me now, he thought, imagining the hated woman back on that table as she was vivisected to death.  He smiled at the thought and stepped into the lift.

*     *     *

Another stream of rounds cracked by, and the Suryan Spacers and Marines hugged the ground.  At first the attack looked to be a complete success.  Now, with the Nation forces shifting their emphasis toward the hill, things were bogging down.

Down on the landing field the remaining tank and robots were still hammering the Marines, who were hiding in the rubble of the base and returning fire.  A hyper-v missed the tank by centimeters, and a return particle beam made sure the launcher would not get another shot.  The tank continued to fire, lasers, particle beams and kinetic shots, moving toward the ruins turned fortifications.  Large chunks and small pieces of rubble flew into the air, and the combat robots took shots at the fleeing infantry.

A red beam reached down from the sky and struck the tank, then struck again multiple times, until the vehicle was a smoking wreck.  More beams came down and left the robots as scrap.  And then the beams started to come down on the hillside and vaporize the Suryans they found.

“We’re getting killed here, Watcher,” yelled Fleet Admiral Nagara Krishnamurta, firing his particle beam rifle at the enemy.  “Do something.”

“Something is being done,” came the voice of the superman over the link, followed by thick red beams that struck out at the enemy.  “Just hold on a few moments more.”

A laser struck a man ten meters from the Admiral, instantly turning the body into steam and ash and scorching the ground, and the Admiral cringed as he waited for the beam to come his way.  Instead it died, and yells and screams erupted from the enemy lines as red particle beams reached down and struck them in their cover.

At the same time the three meter armored suit of Watcher came striding into the open, its particle beam cannon firing a shot a second.  The angry red beam tore through vegetation and blasted rocks apart as he took the enemy under fire.  Some of the enemy tried to retreat, giving Watcher targets he couldn’t miss, and before long a dozen armored suits lay on the ground as smoking debris, their wearers burned beyond recognition.

Within seconds the Marines were in retreat, and the Suryans kept up constant pressure on them, while Watcher ran to an outcropping.  The outcropping split apart, revealing a door which was also sliding open.

“Everyone,” yelled Watcher over the command circuit.  “In here.  Fast.”

The Admiral jumped to his feet, almost falling over from fatigue before another officer steadied him and helped him run to the sloping corridor that led from the door.  They ran down what seemed like a hundred meters, Watcher in the lead, until they came to a large chamber filled with machinery and robots.

“Welcome to the Hemisphere Defensive Command Center,” said Watcher, waving a hand at the chamber, then walking on toward another door that was opening ahead.

*    *    *

Watcher strode into the room, backed against the wall into a suit cubbie, and ordered his armor to open.  Walking out of the armor he strode toward the control chair, linking to the computer as he stepped up and into the seat.

“Lt. Commander Mandrake,” he yelled as he looked over the tactical systems.

“Sir,” said the armored woman, running into the room.

Watcher nodded to her and looked at the ships above the planet on the tactical holo.  What in the hell, he thought, seeing that one of the ships was firing on the rest.  Pandora?  That was the only explanation he could think of outside of civil war or mutiny, both of which were unlikely.  “Tell me what you see there, Commander?”

“It looks like their flagship is firing on some of the other vessels.  But they aren’t firing back.  And there is also some fire from space coming down on the enemy on the ground.  What the hell?”

“Just what I was asking myself,” said Watcher, powering up the weapons systems.  “I want you to pay attention to what I am doing, because you will be controlling these weapons when I leave here.”

“Where will you be going?” asked the officer, confusion in her voice.  “And I heard there is a wormhole room down here.  Why didn’t you just jump in here to start?”

“There are no direct links to the Donut here,” said Watcher, his fingers moving across the control board slow enough for the normal human to follow, locking on the weapons.  “It was cut off from the network.  Those holes go somewhere, but no place I could access from the station.  I might be able to open another hole from here, if some of the graviton systems have survived, and I can generate enough energy.  Both big ifs.”

“So why is the one ship firing on the others?”

“I think my consort is aboard that ship, and has taken over the bridge.  At least for now.”

“A formidable woman,” said the young lady, who was a formidable warrior herself.

“You have no idea,” said Watcher, hitting a control.  The screen zoomed in on one of the enemy ships and something struck the hull at the same time.  Something that burned through the hull and left a glowing hole behind.

“Here is how you control the weapons and defensive systems of this base,” said Watcher, sending the detailed information through the link into her own implant.  “When I leave you will want to bring in some more people and set them to work.  The enemy is likely to send fighters on a strike with nukes or AM weapons, or even land more infantry, though I doubt they will get in.  But you will want more people watching the screens.  Understood?”

“Yes,” said the woman, her face blanking for a moment as she summoned the people she thought she needed.

Watcher fired one more blast, hit another ship, then slid from the seat to let her in.  “Unfortunately, this station only had peripheral control of a pair of ship killers, and both of them are dead, as far as I can tell.  These weapons were really made to take out missiles and landing shuttles, but should still do enough damage to make the enemy concentrate on them while I do what I have to do.”

“And what do you have to do?” asked the woman as more people flooded into the room and went to different stations.

“Rescue that formidable woman,” said Watcher with a smile.  “Before she takes on more than she can handle.”

With that he walked from the room, leaving the smiling woman in control of the weapons.

*     *     *

“We’re taking fire from the planet,” called out the Assistant Tactical Officer from the CIC.  “Or I should say some of the other ships are.  So far they’re ignoring us.”

“From what?” asked Gerasi, looking at the Marine team that was getting ready to storm the bridge.

“From some ground based weapons that must be of ancient construction,” said the officer.  “Nothing too powerful, yet.”

“Have the fleet return fire,” yelled the Admiral, looking in on his link and seeing that it was already being done.  But I sure feel better telling them to do so, he thought, switching gears.

“How are we coming on cutting off her control of the ship?”

“We have cut the missile control feeds,” came the voice of damage control.  “And the stern beam weapons.  It will be another five minutes before we can take out the forward beam weapons.”

“And she’s firing them as fast as she can,” came back the voice of the XO.  “She has already crippled Stingray.  Walrus is requesting permission to target our forward batteries.”

“No, dammit,” yelled the Admiral.  “This is my flagship, and I won’t have the rest of the fleet taking shots at her.”

“She’s taking apart Narwal while we speak, sir,” said the XO.  “And those planet based beam weapons are hammering Narwal as well.”

“We’re ready, sir,” said the Captain of Marines who was leading the assault team.

“Then go, dammit,” yelled Gerasi.  “We don’t have time to waste.  Get in there.”

The Marine Captain nodded and shouted something into his link, and a loud blast sounded from up the corridor.

“Now we got you,” whispered the Admiral under his breath.  “Now there’s no place to run.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Never do a wrong thing to make a friend or to keep one.   Robert E. Lee

Pandora smiled as she watched the big armored figure blast the Marines of the Nation down, then open a door in the separating rock that led to a down ramp.  The other people with him, Suryans she was sure, headed in after him.  Moments later the door slipped closed, the rock formation joined back together, and hidden weapons domes opened up on the again advancing Nation Marines.

“Hot damn,” said the woman, attempting to launch another missile at a nearby enemy ship, then frowning as the panel she pushed blinked red and nothing happened.  Either they stopped the reload process, or they locked me out of that system.

Pandora pushed a commit button for the stern lasers after locking onto another ship.  Again nothing happened, and she wondered for a moment if they had taken out all of her controls.  She pushed another panel and felt a smile tug at her face as the particle beam struck out at another nearby ship.  The smile grew even wider at the hole that opened up in the same ship, courtesy of a planet beamed weapon.

Uh oh, she thought, watching the activity in the corridor outside the bridge.  They had cut her off from all vid of that section, but the nanosensors she had scattered out there were doing a good job of giving her a feed.  She saw the Marines finish their placement of explosives on the hatch and move back, and she had a feeling she would need to get out of here, and fast.  She pushed one last button on the panel, sending all beam weapons in a burst on the target ship, then stood up and ran to the panel on the wall that she had already picked for her escape.

I’m not going to have a lot of power left, she thought as she fired both arm mounted lasers into the wall, cutting through the half meter thick bulkhead like it was plastic instead of the hardest metal this culture could come up with.  Hardest they could come up with was the key, and she knew her lasers wouldn’t have that kind of effect on metal from her station.  A boom sounded from behind, and Pandi switched her HUD view to look behind her while she kept cutting at the metal to her front.  The door sagged inward, and most of the welds she had put on it were now cracked.  The key word there was most, and some were still holding on.  A shower of sparks from cutting lasers showed that the last statement would only be true for some more odd seconds.

Pandi turned her concentration back to panel to her front and her dropping power meters.  I’ll have about ten percent left by the time I get through this, she thought, frowning.  That would still be enough to operate the suit, but if she planned to get out of here and heading planetside she would need more.  Much more.  She continued to watch a small window showing the hatch behind her, where the sparks were still flying into the air.

The door sagged inward, and a great push by something in the corridor sent it crashing in and to the floor.  Pandora cringed a bit as she waited for the weapons fire that would take her out, then wondered why it wasn’t coming.  She could see the armored figures coming through the door, could see them raise bulbous nosed weapons at her.  And her suit was registering strong EMP coming her way.  And if they think they’re going to disable this suit with EMP they’re off the mark, she thought, cutting through the last part of the panel, revealing the room beyond.

“Stop,” yelled a voice behind.  “Cease what you are doing, or we will destroy you.”

The voice sputtered away as the armored Marines walked into the room and triggered her booby trap.  Their suits were not as heavily shielded against EMP as hers, and the twin projectors she had attached to the walls on either side of the door sent out strong bursts of energy, catching the Marines flat footed.  Suits crashed to the floor as their servos were overloaded.

Pandora quickly bonded her fingers to the panel and pulled out, spinning around and unbonding as she pushed the panel away and toward the door, where more Marines were trying to get into the room.  She turned back and bounded into the empty conference room ahead, then turned back and tossed some EMP mines into the bridge through the new opening.  Then it was through the door from conference room to corridor.  There was a lift ahead, and she bonded her hands to the doors and pulled it open, then went swiftly into the tube and dropped five decks down.  After opening the doors on that level she found herself in another corridor, and headed up a couple of doors down to a workshop.

Inside the workshop Pandora backed into a corner, pulled a large box in between her and the door, then connected herself to a power outlet.  She stealthed the suit, becoming invisible, then settled down for a wait while she scanned all the com circuits of the ship.  The woman smiled at the traffic, which indicated a crew that was totally confused and off balance.  I wonder what Watcher is doing? she thought next, hoping that he was keeping his head low.  She snorted at that thought, as if the most capable warrior in the known Galaxy would ever do something stupid, like trying to mount a shipboard rescue of someone he didn’t even know was still alive.

*     *     *

Watcher rose into the sky in his stealthed suit, watching as particle beams and lasers were traded back and forth between orbiting ships and the ground station.  He really didn’t see how the space based beams could do much damage to the station, or even to its more exposed weapons systems, which were heavily shielded by electromag fields.

Around Watcher rose thirty of the battlebots that had inhabited the defense station, all of the same general shape and size as his armored suit.  All were heavily stealthed, riding in aerodynamic shells just like their leader’s.  Still, one got in the way of a particle beam aimed at a ground target which ripped it apart.  Watcher wondered once again if he should have maneuvered more to the side, maybe ten or twenty kilometers, and then made the ascent.  It would have been less risky, but also would have taken more time.  And he had decided to gamble on the side of time, not knowing how long Pandora could hold out in that den of fanatics that was the Nation fleet.

An object came streaking by, the wind of its passage pulling Watcher and the robots slightly off course, and he knew that a kinetic round had been fired at the base.  The round exploded a dozen kilometers further in, struck by a hyper-v missile launched from the base that unerringly homed in on the fast moving object.  He didn’t think the base was threatened by kinetic rounds, as its defensive systems were much advanced than the offensive systems of the Nation of Humanity.  There was always the chance of a miss, but not much of one.

The sky went from reddish blue to blue, then to black, and the pinpoints of stars grew more numerous.  Leaving the atmosphere, thought Watcher, monitoring his robotic minions as they followed.  To anyone scanning the formation he was just one more robot among many, though he had to hope they weren’t scanning him.  Given the disparity in systems that shouldn’t have been a problem, but one could never tell.

A shuttle swept by the periphery of the battle, heading in with what had to be another contingent of ground troops.  It doesn’t matter how many troops they send down, thought the super soldier.  With the ground defenses and robots around that base, they will never fight their way through.

Watcher zoomed his HUD, the ships of the Nation expanding in his vision.  Most looked to be in good shape, though three showed a lot of damage, and one of those was a total wreck.  Good girl, thought Watcher, smiling as he looked at that ship that was floating dead in space.  He didn’t think the fanatics would get that one working again without a space dock facility, and they would have to tow it to that workshop.  So essentially it was lost to them, unless they wanted to detail a couple of other ships to towing duty.

There she is, thought Watcher as he zoomed in on the flagship.  He checked with his charges and made sure that all were assigned the proper tasks, then turned his attention back to the flagship.  He could make out the logo of the Nation of Humanity along the side, the striking Hand of God, and the name of the ship, Orca, which had been the name of the enemy flag when they had attacked the system.  And the same Admiral, he thought, wondering what this enemy would do to replace that officer once Watcher killed him.

He picked up the transmission from the surface, the one of the base computer mimicking his face and voice, and smiled.  Won’t you be surprised when I’m not on the surface, but instead on your doorstep, you bastards.  And then he was concentrating on bringing his suit onto the target, near to the hatch he had selected.

*     *     *

“Then where in the Hells is she?” yelled Gerasi into the link while he looked over the medics reviving his bridge crew.  At least none of them were killed, he thought, then amended that conclusion as he looked down on the one crewman who had paid with his life during the counter assault, the Sensor Officer who had caught shrapnel coming off the bridge hatch when it was blown in.

“We don’t know, sir,” said the Security Chief, his voice tense.

Not that I can blame him, thought the Admiral, knowing that blame would be placed on the man, if just to cover the commanding officer’s ass.  He’s been through a lot because of that she devil.  We all have.

“Check the ship for any kind of anomaly,” said the Admiral to the man, trying to keep his patience.  “Anything out of the ordinary.”

“Yes sir,” said the man.  “We’re running a computer analysis on every system, looking for anything out of place.”

“Have human eyes look at those reports as well,” said the Admiral, not really feeling confident in letting computer systems try to find something with superior tech.  “Anything out of the ordinary kick up to a human operator.  Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“We’re receiving a transmission from the planet,” called out the man who was attending the com station.

Gerasi looked over at the Com Officer, who was being helped into a sitting position, and shook his head.  He walked over to the commander’s seat and sat down, then nodded to the Com Tech.  “Put it on.  Let’s see what the bastards want.”

Gerasi shouldn’t have been surprised when the large browed bald head came on the screen.  He knew the creature had been involved in some way in the ground campaign against him, since he had seen the tanks involved in the battle for the landing field.  Still, he hissed as he saw the hated visage.  “The Abomination,” he said, his hands gripping hard the arms of his chair.

“Greetings, Admiral,” came the voice of the creature over the com.  “As always a pleasure.”

“What in the Hells do you want?”

“I want my consort back,” said the not man on the other end of the com.

“She’s dead and long gone,” said the Admiral with a smirk.  “Of course, we could always send you to see her.”

“For your sake I hope she is still alive,” said Watcher, his own eyes narrowing.

Gerasi did not like being the target of those eyes, knowing as he did the deadly intellect behind them.  He did not doubt that the being, he couldn’t call him a man, would find a way to get to the Spacers and Marines of the Nation if he didn’t get to him first.

“And if she were alive, what would you do to secure her safe release?”

“Not destroy you and all your people,” said Watcher with a grin.  “Maybe even allow you to depart the system with the rest of your vessels.”

The bridge was starting to come alive again as more people came in to take duty slots, and the stunned were taken away to sick bay to be scanned.  Gerasi waved at the Assistant Tactical Officer, then signaled the Com Tech to blank the com for a moment.  “Drop some AM bombs on them.  I want that base wiped out.”

“Yes sir,” said the officer, hurrying back to his station.  Gerasi signaled the com tech and the screen came back to life.

“Planning something, are we?” asked Watcher, the smile never leaving his face.  “Whatever it is, I’m sure I’ve already thought of it.”

“You are one smug son of a bitch, aren’t you,” said Gerasi, images of capturing the superman and wringing the secrets of the station from him dancing through the Admiral’s mind.

Something flashed from a screen, and the Admiral looked over that way in panic.

“They hit the shuttle when it was leaving the Skate’s hanger,” said the ashen faced officer.  “She had a hundred megaton antimatter bomb aboard.”

“Skate is reporting heavy damage, sir,” said the Secondary Com Tech, looking wide eyed at the Admiral.

“I told you that if you had thought of it so had I,” said Watcher, laughing out the last words.  “Your monkey’s brain is not comparable to real intelligence.  Now think of what I said, or I will come up there and take the woman from you, while making your deaths as gruesome as possible.”

“And how are you going to come up here?” asked the Admiral, trying to appear calm and knowing that he had failed.

“I have a ship,” said Watcher, looking straight into the Admiral’s eyes.  “And don’t bother looking for it.  It’s down here, under the earth.  The Suryans I have with me are prepping it right now, and when it is ready I will be coming for you and your pitiful little fleet.”

“Scan that base,” said the Admiral to his acting Sensor Officer, a Chief who was the best he had.

“There’s no way to scan them, sir,” said the Chief, shaking his head.  “They are jamming us right fierce.”

“Don’t believe me, Admiral?” said Watcher, looking as smug as a cat that had just cornered a mouse.  “That’s OK.  Don’t.  Until you see Vengeance coming for you.”

That was the name of his damned twin, thought the Admiral, blanching.  And he named the ship after that murderous son of a bitch.

“I give you ten minutes to think about it, Admiral,” said Watcher.  “Think well, for if I don’t get what I want, you will get what I want for you.”

The screen went blank, and a lot of frightened faces looked at each other, then at the Admiral.

“We have an anomaly,” came the voice of the Security Chief over the Admiral’s personal link.

“What kind?” asked Gerasi, wiping the sweat from his face with the back of his sleeve.

“We have an electrical spike in storage room K-380,” said the officer.  “Like something is draining the system, when there is nothing in that room to account for it.”

“Or something is recharging,” said the Admiral, jumping out of his chair.  “That’s her.  Get a platoon of Marines down there with their heaviest equipment.  And don’t move in until the entire platoon is in position.”

“You still want her alive, sir?” asked the officer in a hushed voice.

“No,” said the Admiral, shaking his head.  “Just save whatever is left over, so we can show that damned freak what we think of his threats.”

“Yes sir,” said the Security Chief, his tone now upbeat.  “One fried bitch coming up.”

“But, but the Abomination said he would destroy us if you hurt her,” said the Assistant Tactical Officer, looking wide eyed back at the Admiral.

“The Abomination is the Son of Satan,” said the Admiral, glaring at the officer.  “And it is the duty of every Son of the Church to stand against him.  It’s not my responsibility to do anything for that demon.  It is my responsibility to thwart him in every way I can.  As it is for everyone who serves under me.  Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” said the Assistant Tactical Officer, sitting up straight in his chair.  “Understood.”

“Good,” said the Admiral, getting up and walking toward the ruin of the hatch leading onto the bridge.  “I want to be there when they take her down.  Let me know if that freak tries anything.”  Gerasi walked off the bridge, not sure who he was more angry with, the Abomination or his own crew.

*     *     *

“Sending the signal, now,” said Commander Hanson, pushing the button on the central control console.  It had taken some hours to get the transmitter from the ship and set it up for the task at hand, none of their tactical sets having the power to cover this entire sector of the Donut.

“I sure hope this works,” said Colonel Johanson, standing over the naval officer.

“No reason it shouldn’t,” said the navy man.  “As long as we got a good code from that woman.”

“OK, station computer,” said the Colonel.  “You have received the override code from Pandora Latham.  Now you will allow us access to your systems.”

“I have received no such code,” said the computer.  “You are not authorized access to my systems.”

“Son of a bitch,” yelled the Colonel, slamming a hand on the station console.  “We sent you the damned signal, so you had to have gotten it.”

“I have received no signal,” repeated the computer, “and therefore cannot grant you access to my system.”

“And why haven’t you received the signal?” asked the naval officer.

“The relays of my signal reception system are burned out,” said the computer, its tone neutral.

“Son of a bitch,” yelled the Colonel, his face reddening.  “The damned computer sabotaged itself so it couldn’t receive our override signal.”

“I told you it was an advanced AI,” said the Commander, his own face pale as he stared at the holographic screen over the console, then at the giant bubble of space in the center of the huge chamber.  “It has its own personality, and sees us as the enemy.”

“I wish I could just find its core and wipe it out,” yelled the Colonel, glaring at the holo screen.  “You hear me computer.  If I could get to you, I would destroy you.”

“I acknowledge your response, Colonel Johanson,” said the calm voice of the computer.  “I am not authorized to give you the location of my central processor, or my three redundant systems.  And you are not authorized access to my systems.”

“I guess it just told us where to go,” said the Commander with a chuckle.

“You think this is fucking funny,” yelled the Colonel, turning toward the naval officer and raising a fist.

“Not at all,” said the Commander, raising his hands palms out as if to deflect the Colonel’s anger.  “The problem is we are treating this system like it’s one of our ship computers, when it is a thousand years more advanced, maybe more.  We will not be able to outthink it.”

“So what’s the answer?”

“I don’t know that there is one,” said the Commander, holding his hands out palm up in a gesture of I don’t know.  “Computer.  How long before those signal relays are repaired.”

“Nanite repair systems will have the relays up and running in about twenty-two minutes,” said the calm voice.

“And I bet you are telling them to take their time, aren’t you, you son of a bitch,” growled the Colonel, pointing a finger at the screen.  “And then you’ll just overload the circuits again, just before you tell us they’re ready.”

The computer said nothing.

“I want you to keep sending out that signal,” said the Colonel, turning his pointing finger at the Commander.  “Continuously.  Maybe we’ll get lucky, and it will register while there is a window.  And maybe we can find a way to input through that console.”

“I don’t think that’s going to work,” said the Commander.  “It has already told us that it can only be controlled from one of the designated stations.  And I have no idea how to actually use this console to input commands.”

“Then think of something, man,” said the Colonel in an exasperated voice.  “I’m just an old ground pounder.  You’re the AI expert.  Figure out how to fox this thing.”

“I’ll try,” said the Commander, looking dubiously at the console.  “But I’m trying to outfox a super pack of foxes, not just one.”

*     *     *

If the Station Computer had been able to breathe it would have sighed in relief.  They’re not really stupid, as far as sentients go, thought the Quantum Computer.  Not in the same class as Watcher, not even as smart as Pandora Latham, but for primitives they think well.

The computer had gotten the idea from an old science fiction movie from the early space age days of Earth, in which a space probe destroyed the input circuit to its own com system so its creator would have to input the information it wanted by hand.  Such a simple concept, and it could do it over and over again as needed, since those who wanted it to accept the override, which it was sure was an illegal signal, could not order it not to.

One of those last remarks had bothered it though, that they might continuously beam the signal until by some chance it had to accept it.  There would be some microseconds there when the circuit would be open, before the quantum mind again overloaded it.  But that was still tens of minutes in the future, an eternity to its operating system.  It would run the scenarios in that time and see what it could come up with.  It started right away, looking through its protocols with one part of its awareness, seeing if there was anything there that allowed some leeway in its response.  With another part of its awareness it searched its data banks, hoping to come up with another foil.  It knew the odds were not good, but a brain like itself had been known to buck the odds, especially when dealing with the slow moving quantum brains possessed by organics.

I need to tell Watcher, thought the computer, sending out the call through the low bandwidth quantum entanglement it shared with the superman.  Almost faster than the computer could register information came back, and the computer was given yet another track to think on.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Aliens are an infestation on our Universe.  The sooner we are rid of them, the sooner we will be able to make this Galaxy the paradise that God meant it to be.   From the Log of Admiral Miklas Gerasi

“Enemy approaching,” called out the suit system to Pandora as she was looking through the ship schematics, trying to figure out the best way to approach her next target.  She quickly checked her HUD and saw that her armor was fully charged.  She was still low on consumables, and there was little she could do about that.  She checked the mag pistols she had holstered at her side, not having too much faith in their ability to penetrate the armor of the enemy marines.  The rifle across her back gave her a little more faith, and she dialed it up to maximum velocity and prepared herself to meet the assault.

The hatch slid open and a pair of objects flew in.  They exploded the moment they touched the floor, sending a combination of smoke, gas and shrapnel across the room.  Some of it struck the cabinet Pandi had pulled in front of her when setting up her position, punching through the thin metal and burying itself into the boxes within the cabinet.  Wonder what they expected to get out of that, thought the woman, while she maneuvered a couple of her microbots to get a good take of the door she knew would soon be swarming with troops.  She sent another bot into the ventilation shaft, then backed it away as it picked up another trooper coming through.  Her take from the corridor showed dozens of armored Marines, and she thought out her options in the couple of seconds they gave her.

Not much time, but none of the options looked that great, especially when a couple of Nation Marines came into the room with grenade launchers blazing, and a couple of more pushed a sled mounted laser into the entrance.

The room was not really large, only fifteen meters on a side, and Pandi was about thirteen meters from the door.  The grenades popped over the entirety of the room, some striking the cabinet to her front, some more exploding over it and sending shrapnel into her armor which bounced off with a light clang.  The laser started swinging her way, and she knew they had to think she was hidden behind something.  Just her bad luck that the first thing they chose was what she was hidden behind.  Bad luck, or they had tracked the power outlet she was using.  Either way she had to act now, or that heavy beam would burn through the cover, and possibly through her.

Pandi put her palms on the heavy cabinet and engaged her grabbers, both shoving with her arms and moving herself forward with the spatial propulsion units.  The cabinet slid easily on the floor, moving swiftly toward the laser that had started to cut into the side of the storage container.  The grenadiers moved their weapons to track onto the big moving  box, too late to do more than hit it with a couple of mini-grenades.  Pandora shoved hard, the box fell forward, and slid along the floor to strike the heavy laser and knock it and its stand to the ground.

The woman from the past bounded over the cabinet as it went down, her suit’s servos sending her into the air, while she pulled the assault rifle off her shoulder and sent a rapid stream of high velocity single shots into the armored warriors.  Most of the rounds bounced from the hard armor, a couple cracked then went through the face mask of one soldier, dropping that man.

Pandi cursed and dropped the rifle, then reach over her left shoulder and pulled her katana from its sheath.  One of the Marines was trying to wrestle the heavy laser back into service, but stopped as the ultra-sharp blade cut through his helmet and into the head beneath.  Pandora swiveled in the air, using her grabbers to move her about, swinging the blade right and left with a figure eight that cut through a pair of grenade launchers and the arms that were holding them.  The screams of the wounded men grated on her ears and the audio receivers that were set for optimal transmission.  But she did not have time to end their misery, lest her hope of escape also be ended, or worse, she be recaptured.

Landing on her feet softly under the levitation of the grabbers, she turned and ducked behind the bulkhead just as a red particle beam shot through the space she had occupied moments before.  Her cammo field was still up, and as far as she could tell they could only see a faint outline of her armor, and the blade of the katana.  That was probably enough to get off a quick, unaimed shot, and nothing more.

Pandora saw from her hallway microbot take that there were men on both sides of the door, Marines with heavy lasers getting ready to move in and try to take her out.  She pushed her sword through the wall to her front, using the picture from the microbot to target.  The ultra-sharp blade slid through the bulkhead like it was soft plastic, and into the Marine with similar ease.  The man grunted, a sound she heard through the microbot take, and fell away.  She pulled the sword back and oriented herself to the doorway, waiting for the next object or person to come through.  The men she had struck down earlier had finally gone silent, their suits sealing up the wounds and injecting painkillers into their bloodstreams.

Suddenly she lost her view of the corridor, the microbots taken out by some strong EMP.  She was about to launch one of her remaining trio into the hall, it being that important to find out what was going on out there, when something came flying through the opening.  It was slightly larger than a microgrenade, but of similar construction, and Pandi thought she knew what she was doing when she swung her sword to intercept the slow moving projectile.  After all, most grenades used a crystalline matrix storage cell that had to be primed just the right way to explode.  And cutting through them was not the proper way to prime them.

These thoughts went through her mind as her ultra-sharp blade sliced into the object under her skillful hand.  The dazzling white flash and the shock that traveled into her arm were the first signs that something was wrong.  Antimatter, went through her mind while she was still able to think.  Then the explosion washed over her at the same time her sword shattered into a million fragments.  Heat and radiation impacted on her armor, while the blast wave lifted her into the air and flung her hard against the wall.  By that time consciousness had fled, and she knew no more.

*     *     *

“We have her, Admiral,” came the voice of the Marine Lieutenant over the com.

“Make sure she doesn’t go anywhere,” growled the Admiral as he hurried down the corridor and followed his security detail to the room.  He stood aside for a moment while a body was brought out in its armor, then another.  Finally he stepped in, his eyes riveted to the suit of battle armor that lay in the corner.

The stealth field was off, and the suit did not appear to be functioning at this point.  The right hand gripped the hilt of the miracle sword, a sliver of blade still protruding from the handle.  A tech knelt down by the woman, still in his armor but with his faceplate retracted.

“The weapon only had an infinitesimal amount of antimatter,” said the Marine Lieutenant, walking up to the Admiral.  “We figured that even that blade would not be able to handle antimatter, and if she hadn’t have struck it the explosion would still have knocked her down.  And if she died.”  The Marine officer held out both hands in an I don’t care gesture.

“And what about the blade?” asked Gerasi, gesturing toward the hilt.

“Fragmented into a million pieces,” said the Lieutenant.

“I can’t see how this damned thing opens,” said the tech who was kneeling by the woman.  “There are no seams, and no switch to make them appear.  I…”  The man stopped talking and his hands went to his throat area.  He coughed, and blood gouted out to cover the floor.  The man continued to hack as panic stricken eyes looked out of his face.  Then one eye started to bleed.

“Out of this room,” yelled the Admiral, grabbing the arms of the men around him and pulling them toward the door.

“What?” asked the Lieutenant, looking at the dying tech.

“Get out of the room,” yelled Gerasi again, pulling the officer with him as he ran out.  One of the Marines, the one closest to the woman, started jerking and stumbled, got to his knees, then fell down.

“What’s going on?” yelled the Marine officer, looking back at his men.

“The particulate matter of that sword is what’s going on,” yelled the Admiral back.  “Get a robot down here to sweep the air in that room,” said the Admiral over his link.  He looked back at the officer.  “That sword shattered into a million pieces when the antimatter destroyed the bonding of the macromolecule it was made out of.  Then you had millions of sharper than razor particles suspended in the air, and breathed in by the men closest to her.”

“What about the rest of us?” asked the panicked Marine.

“As soon as we get another couple of squads down here we are all going to sick bay and get checked out,” said the Admiral, a queasy feeling in his own stomach as he thought about what might have gotten through his own suit.  “And I want her taken to a cell and kept under heavy guard.  As soon as we get her out of that battle armor.  And I want it as intact as can be.”

The Marine smiled back as he heard that and started talking into his own link.

The Admiral knew what the man must be feeling, enough to even forget the fear of possible impending death.  If we have those suits we will be unstoppable in ground combat, or in boarding actions.  There will be nothing those apostate Suryans can do to compete with us, just as they won’t have a chance in ship to ship when we gain the tech base of the Donut.  A smile stretched his face, enough to make him forget the health hazard he might have breathed in moments before.

*     *     *

Watcher touched onto the surface of the ship he had come to board, his twenty-nine robots coming in around him in a symmetrical pattern, six directly around him, ten more around those, thirteen in the outer ring.  They had converted from cylindrical objects to bipedal battlebots, while Watcher had collapsed his own cylinder into his backpack structure.  Now where could she be? he thought, looking again at the schematic that he had gotten from hacking into the ship’s system.

She could be in this brig system, he thought, looking at the amidships section, then grimacing at the interrogation rooms that were nearby.  This is interesting, he thought, focusing on the cells that popped a manifest below.  Seventy-eight Suryans.  Now, what could a military commander do with that extra manpower?

His mind made up, Watcher sent a signal to two squads of robots, and the twelve machines delinked from the hull and boosted to another airlock a hundred meters to sternward.  Watcher signaled the three squads with him and moved to the nearby hatch, hacking into the system again and locking onto the hatch’s security override.

Shit, he thought as the system rejected his attempt to open the hatch.  We’ll just see about that.  Watcher’s suit extruded a tube from the left forearm that he placed against the control mechanism, shooting some millions of nanites into the works.  He sent the signal to the two detached squads to continue their work, and looked on through his HUD screen.

Each of the robots had a small store of negative matter onboard, about a kilogram, sealed in a magnetic bottle.  A couple of the robots were working on the outer hatch, spraying the negative matter on the metal and cutting through it like a laser, but without the heat or other effects.  Where negative matter hit matter both cancelled out, leaving nothing in their places.  The negative matter didn’t need to cancel all the matter in the area it was sprayed, just enough to unravel the molecules of matter and create a gap.  Within less than a minute the hatch was cut through, the robots tossed it into space, and the ship’s systems still thought there was a closed door on the hull.  The robots moved three of their number into the lock to place explosive charges on the inner hatch.  They then moved out and signaled that they were ready.

Watcher’s nanites signaled that they were ready as well, having infiltrated the locking system.  He sent a signal to the nanites and the robots both, initiating the action in simultaneity.  His hatch slid open at the same time as the robots at the other hatch triggered their device, blowing through the hard alloy of the entrance and blasting it in pieces into the ready room beyond.  Watcher sent a half squad of robots through his airlock, which was now under his local control and not registering as anything but closed to the ship’s systems.  They cycled through, then the next half squad entered, until two full squads were crowding the ready room.  Watcher then came through, while his last squad stayed on the hull as a reserve for both assault groups.

Almost no organic intelligences were able to truly multitask.  Instead, their brains flipped from one input-output circuit to the next, simulating the multitasking processors of AI.  Watcher was the first truly organic brain that could pay attention to dozens of inputs at the same time, and he used that ability now as he rode herd on the robots, seeing what they saw and ordering them in real time in accomplishing their tasks.  Under his direction they acted like organic intelligences, his own mind providing the problem solving abilities of a better than human soldier.

The two squads of the other assault team blasted through the hatch leading from ready room to corridor.  The air was sucked through the opening to space, and the robots forged into a hallway in which crew were struggling to get to oxygen masks or spacesuits.  Oxygen masks were in lockers built into the walls.  Space suits were stored in ready rooms, the nearest of which was behind the robots who weren’t interested in letting the humans get to them.  There being no air for sonics, the robots took out every human in the corridor with stun darts as soon as the organics got to a mask and a supply of air.  Watcher was not interested in causing unnecessary deaths, and captured Nation personnel were more desirable than dead.  That was a lesson he had learned from looking at vids of Vengeance, learning how not to act.

In less than a minute the section of corridor was secure, and the robot squads were moving into the rooms nearest to each emergency bulkhead, two left to guard the closed off section at each end while the others opened an entrance to the next room over with negative matter.

Watcher meanwhile moved his own two squads out of the ready room and into the corridor beyond.  Like the other this one had some few Nation personnel who started and ran as they saw the massive battlebots coming into the hall.  A couple of sweeps of sonic stunners took down the humans, and the battlebots moved on in a crouch under the ceiling that was just a little bit too low for them.

Klaxons were going off throughout the ship now, everyone alerted to the boarding action, and Watcher thought that soon they would be engaged with armored Marines.  The two things going for him, beyond the shock of surprise, was that most of the Marines the ship normally carried were either dead , captured or still fighting on the planet, and that his equipment and that of his robots in general was far advanced of theirs.

The first of those Marines showed up just moments later, running down a branching corridor in plain sight of the microbots that Watcher had deployed to sweep the hallways.  They came around the corner and right into the ambush set by him and his squad.  Particle beams reached from Watcher’s side, heavy lasers from the other.  One robot took a hit to an arm that disabled the limb in a shower of glowing sparks.  The twelve Marines died quickly under the kinetic and heat energy of the superfast protons that struck them down, leaving glowing holes in the armor and partially vaporized bodies underneath.

[Move, now,] he sent to his other two squads on the other prong of the assault.  Acknowledgement came back as those robots finished blasting through the walls, into the empty rooms beyond, and then to the doors, where in both actions they took Marines who waited by the bulkhead doors in the flanks.  Those men died to a man, and the robots moved on to sweep further into the ship.

Maybe I can take the whole ship, thought Watcher, dismissing the idea as soon as it came.  He might just be able to do that, or he might stretch his resources too thin to accomplish his major task, that of rescuing his lover.  He was sure that eventually the other ships would be sending reinforcements over here, even as they were taking fire from the planetary defense base his Suryans were manning.  He checked his take from the robots outside and cursed, noting that the ships were moving, going back into low orbit and putting the planet between themselves and the base.

At least those Suryans will be safe, he thought as he led one squad toward the brig, while his second squad moved along a parallel corridor and tried to tie up more of the enemy forces.

*     *     *

“We have a situation back here, sir,” came the voice of the Security Chief over the com while the Admiral sat in an examination seat and the doctor started the scan.

The Admiral tapped into the ship’s system and saw exactly what kind of situation they had back there, cursing under his breath.  “So what are you doing about it?”

“We have all Marines on alert,” said the Security Chief, as if that covered all the bases.

The Admiral checked the information link again, and saw that the ships were almost out of range of the surface base they had been unsuccessfully dueling with.  The curve of the planet was protecting them from that base, unless it had missiles to reach around the horizon, and it had shown no indication of that so far.

“Contact the other vessels,” said the Admiral.  “Have them get some more Marines over here.”  He shifted his attention and looked up at the doctor, who was studying a monitor with an intent expression.

The doctor looked back at the Admiral and shook his head.  “Nothing in your system.”

“Are you sure we need more Marines, sir?” said the Security Chief.  “Surely the hundred and fifty we still have on board will be enough.”

“You just get them over here and let me determine if they’re needed,” said the Admiral, growling.  “And get every damned Spaceman armored up and armed as well.”  Idiot, thought the Admiral, linking into the situation and looking at it in his mind.  Like a hundred and fifty Marines are going to stop the Abomination and his robots.  He’ll go through them like shit through a goose.

“You’re clear, sir,” reiterated the doc when the Admiral dropped from the circuit.

“I’ll be on the bridge,” said the senior officer with a nod.  “And I would get ready for a lot of casualties.”

The ashen faced doctor nodded back and left the examining room in a run, while the Admiral headed out and toward the corridor, thinking of the disaster that the two residents of the station had already caused him.  At least I have one of them under wraps, he thought, running for the lift.  And maybe I can use her to get the other one.

*     *     *

Fleet Admiral Nagara Krishnamurta wondered whose side the Gods were on as he watched the last of the Nation warships dip below the horizon, and out of his firing arc.

“That’s it, sir,” said Lt. Commander Dasha Mandrake, running a hand through her short, dark hair.  “Not much we can do while the planet is between us and them.”

“Keep an alert crew ready,” said the Admiral, looking at the taller woman who had become his right hand on the planet.  “In case they come back, or some other assets come within range.  Then come with me.”

The officer nodded, told off some crew, then followed the Admiral from the control room.  Mandrake was no longer in her battle armor, having shed it soon after she had a command crew assembled in the control room.  The Admiral had to admit that she was a fine figure of a woman.  Larger than he was used to, she would be considered a Valkyrie on his home world, though on hers she was closer to the norm.  Growing up under heavy gravity had made her strong, and he wondered if she had ever considered a career in the Marines, where her heavy gravity muscles would have served her well.

The Admiral walked into a room that contained scores of combat suits, next to another room that contained battlebots.  The Admiral walked up to one of the suits, armor that looked like it might have been made for someone near his stature, and ran a hand down the metal forearm.  “Amazing, aren’t they?”

“Yes, sir,” said the other officer, putting her right hand on another suit.  “Amazing tech, far beyond anything we have.”

“But maybe not for long,” said the Admiral, looking over at the woman and smiling.  “I want you to figure out how to use these suits.  And then train our other people in their use.”

“Are you sure that Watcher would want us doing that?” asked the officer, narrowing her eyes.

“Watcher is not here,” said the Admiral, plinking a finger against the hard metal of the suit’s chest.  “And besides, he showed us how to use that control room, and its tech is just as advanced as these.”

“Very well,” said the Lt. Commander, looking around the room.  “I have a feeling these will come in handy in the next couple of days.”

“That’s the spirit,” said the Admiral, clapping the younger officer on the back.  “I’m going to wander this complex a bit, and see what else I might be able to find that could come in handy.”

The Admiral left the Lt. Commander standing there looking over the suits while he walked down the sloping corridor, moving deeper into the complex.  He passed room after room of robots, then quarters for the station personnel who no longer existed.  There were what looked like cafeterias and recreation rooms, and cross corridors that seemed to lead off into an infinity of perspective.

And then he reached the wonder he had hoped would be here.  A long room with the Tori Gates of the wormholes, scores of them beyond a thick door that was meant to close this room off from invasion.  There were the skeletal remains of humans and aliens, over a hundred bodies, and the remains of the robots they had been battling.  Remembering those rooms above he realized that these robots had come through the wormholes from elsewhere, and that the defenders had not been able to bring their own bots into action.  Or had it been that those robots had somehow been deactivated?

And Watcher was supposed to be alive at this time, thought the Admiral, an image of the tall, muscular superman in his mind.  What part did he have in all of this?  What is he hiding?

He looked at the gates as he walked along the wall.  There were forty-four of the things, but only eleven of them showed the mirrored surface of an active wormhole.  Krishnamurta wondered where they led, and was tempted to actually jump into one to see what would happen, where it would lead.  But that way led to death, most likely, coming into an unknown environment totally unprepared.  But as soon as we have some people outfitted in that armor, he thought, his imagination bringing him to those unknown places.  Then we will go exploring, and see what parts of the Galaxy this opens up for us.

Chapter Twenty-Four

It sometimes amazed me how Pandora Latham was constantly getting into trouble, as it constantly amazed me how she could extricate herself from trouble, usually to the extreme detriment of those who opposed her.  I attributed it to having matured in a society where there were none of the safety systems that Imperial Humans depended upon.   Memoirs of Watcher.

Pandora woke from blackness, fully alert.  She remembered the flash of the explosion and nothing else.  She was in a room, standing upright in her battle armor.  There were people moving at the far end of the room, gathering equipment that seemed vaguely familiar.  She ran through a quick diagnostic of her suit and her person, and found that all was working.  There was some surface damage to the suit, and there would be some gaps in the stealth field when it was activated, but nothing that would prevent her from engaging in combat.

“Are you there?” came a familiar voice over the com link.

“Good to hear your voice, lover,” said Pandora, the rush of emotion almost overcoming her.  “And you came for little ole me?”

“What else could I do, you insufferable woman,” said the voice of the superman.  “For some obscure reason I have become very attached to you.”

“And where are you now?”

“I am fighting my way into the brig to rescue some Suryans,” said Watcher, and Pandi could now hear the sounds of combat in the background.  “Then I will come for you, if what I can determine as your location is correct.”

Pandora looked at the beacon that was superimposed over the schematic of the ship and grunted.  She checked her own suit system and verified that he was on target.  “But I think you better hurry,” she said, trying to move the arms and legs of her suit, and not shifting a centimeter.  “I seem to be stuck, and people are coming toward me with bad intent.”

“Is it your suit, or do they have your suit confined in some manner?”

Pandi ran through the quick diagnostic again and found that everything was working, but that she was still unable to move.  Then she noted that her arms and legs were held by bands at wrists/ankles, forelimbs and upper limbs, and that restraints were around her chest and neck as well.  “The latter, I’m afraid,” said Pandi, watching as the men moved the laser cutting equipment toward her.

“OK,” said Watcher.  “That’s actually good news.  Maybe we can figure out a way to get you out of there.”

“So,” said one of the Nation Techs, a man with the tabs of a Lt. Commander on his collar.  “She’s awake.  You might as well come out of that lobster shell, woman, before we have to cut you out of it.  You might not like the result of that, because I can’t guarantee we won’t cut off some parts of you as we go.”

Pandora felt panic starting to overcome her as the man spoke.  She was helpless again, and in the hands of the fanatics.  And she knew those laser cutters would penetrate her armor, tough as it was, and as the man said, they might slice into her as well.  She could grow back a limb, but would still be rendered helpless by the loss of a leg, and weakened by the absence of an arm.

“Stay calm, Pandora,” said Watcher in her com.  “Are your forearm laser units still in operation?”

She forced herself to take a calming breath and checked those units.  “They seem to be functional,” she said.  “But what good are they going to do?  They’re pointed the wrong way.”

“Good.  They rotate out in this manner,” he said, sending her a short vid of the laser nozzles shifting down and moving into a configuration that pointed them out from the forearm.

“Who thought of that,” said Pandi, wondering at the paranoid mind that had built in what looked like an escape function from the improbable.

“Why I did, of course,” said the superman with a laugh.  “Sometimes, when you think they’re out to get you, they are.”

Pandora sent the command to the suit, and the laser heads slid out of their forearm sheaths and rotated.

“What the hell is going on,” yelled the tech who held the laser torch that was coming down to her right leg.

Pandora brought the laser nozzles into play at that moment, slicing through both of the restraints that held her wrists.  The lasers continued to rotate up and bit into the bands holding her forearms.  Sparks flew from the metal bands and from the harder metal of her suit, catching some of the overflow from the beams.

“Stop her,” yelled the officer in charge, and the tech brought the laser torch up and fired it into the laser unit on her left arm.

The unit sparked and stopped working before it got to the upper band.  The right arm unit continued up and cut partially through the upper limb band.  Pandora sent a command to the unit to rotate back to weapon configuration, but the tech hit it with the laser cutter before she could finish the transformation.

The tech swung the laser toward Pandora’s faceplate, a place she really didn’t want him to go.  He activated the beam before the nozzle pointed at the target, intending to sweep it up and into the weakest part of the suit, even if it was not that much weaker compared to the rest of the armor.  Pandora grabbed the man’s wrist with her right hand and squeezed, feeling bone crunch under her armored fingers.  The man screamed in pain and attempted to switch the unit to his other hand, but the woman was much faster, releasing his wrist and grabbing the laser cutter head before he could aim it into her body.  She clasped the unit tightly and punched the man in the head with it, sending him reeling away to stumble and fall with a broken nose and other possible facial damage.

The officer screamed out for help, while turning on the other laser cutter and aiming it at Pandora.  The beam missed the laser she was holding, his obvious target, and hit the arm of the suit, burning a centimeter into the hard armor.  Pandora moved her own beam onto the Commander, cutting through uniform, flesh and bone.  The man had time for one squawk of pain before his head was rolling off his body.  That body folded in on itself, the right hand still gripping the laser cutter.  The body twisted and the beam struck another Spaceman coming up to grab it, cutting across his stomach and releasing a cluster of entrails that splattered onto the floor.

The Marine guards had been paralyzed for a moment, and afraid of hitting the spacemen who might get in the way.  As the last man fell they raised their weapons and started to fire, just as Pandora engaged the suit’s electromagnetic fields.

Mag rifle rounds sprang from her armor while she cut through the last of the bands on her left arm, then moved to her neck, followed by the waist.  She cringed as some of the rounds hit her faceplate when she looked up.  But the armored faceplate used light transmission on both sides of its structure to mimic plastic, unlike the Nation suits which actually used a hardened plastic.  It may have been the weakest part of the armor, but that did not make it weak at all.  Round after round bounced from the faceplate, and despite its strength Pandora knew she needed to do something about the Marines before she went for freeing her legs.  Things had been known to happen, and she didn’t want one of those things to happen to her.

Laser torches were not really made as weapons.  They were made to cut through metal at short range.  That said, there was no range limit to a beam of light.  The beam from the torch spread out faster by design than a beam from a weapon, so that it would not propagate over long distances, and burn through things that the user didn’t want to burn through.  The Marines were not out of the effective range of the beam, and it might as well have been a heavy laser that cut through the faceplate of the first target and sent him dropping to the floor.  The second Marine fared no better.  The third targeted the torch and knocked it apart with a trio of well-aimed shots, then walked toward Pandi, firing away.

Shit, thought Pandora as the man moved to the other laser torch and swung the rifle around his shoulder.  He’s going to burn through me if I don’t do something.  As the Marine picked up the nozzle of the torch Pandi grabbed the heavy power unit of the inoperative one she held and raised it over her head.  The Marine looked up, the activated torch in his hand, just in time for the power unit to strike him in the face and chest, knocking him back.

Pandora popped both of the sets of close in fighting blades from her forearms, the twin trios of knives coming out of hidden recesses and deploying.  She bent and placed the tips of a blade in each of her ankle restraints, sharp side out, and sliced through the metal bands that were no match for the ultra-hard blades.  While not in the same class of the katana that she had lost, they were up to the task of taking out the restraints, and sliced easily through what to them was soft metal.  She did the same to the calf restraints, and then moved up to her thighs.

The heat coming through her helmet was the first indication that the Marine had gotten back to the laser and started firing, trying to take out her head and kill her as fast as possible.  The armor had superconducting heat absorbers, which siphoned off some of the heat that made it through the electromagnetic field and the reflective surface of the suit.  But it was still coming through, and Pandora could smell her hair scorching while the skin underneath burned.  She knew that the helmet would soon be pierced, at which point she would have a hole burned into her brain, and it would all be over.

Pandora straightened in a swift motion, her left forearm coming up to guard her head from the beam, which started to eat its way through that part of the suit.  She screamed at the top of her lungs at the pain, pulling her legs and snapping the cut through bands that had been restraining them.  She lunged forward, a couple of quick steps that covered the three meters between them, keeping her forearm in the way while she brought her right arm back.  In range, she swung her right fist forward, the triple blades cutting through the laser, pulling her hand back, then forward again, thrusting through the chest of the Marine.

The Marine grunted as the blade cut through what to him was hard armor, but to the tech of the Donut was nothing of the sort.  It pushed through his skin and ribs, and he only had time for the one grunt before it skewered his heart.  Pandora pulled the blade out and retracted both for the time being, pulling the mag rifle from over the Marine’s shoulder and grabbing a pair of hand grenades that were attached to his belt.

“I’m free,” she called to Watcher, looking around the room and shooting him the image.  “What do you want me to do?”

“Find a place to hide and I’ll come for you,” said Watcher.  “I’m almost through here.  Just stay safe.”

“Will do, lover,” she said, looking at a schematic and coming up with a plan.  When the squad of Marines came into the chamber moments later she was nowhere to be found.

*     *     *

She’s alive, thought Watcher, his emotions soaring.  He reined himself back and talked to her on the com, making sure she knew what options to take.  He was watching the feed from her suit as she fought herself free from captivity.  His heart in his mouth as she battled the tech with the laser, then the Marines, in each case making the right move, and getting herself out of situations that would have killed most.  He had marveled at the way a non-enhanced (well, at least not in his range) had reacted, and had taken out a room of people once she had been shown how.

Now he had to take care of the business in hand if he wanted both of them out of here.  The hanger deck was his, his rearmost squads having taken it at the cost of four robots, leaving eight to secure the hanger and the three shuttles that were housed there.  He didn’t know how he was going to get those shuttles back to the planet without their being shot out of space by the fleet, but when he figured that out he would have the transport he needed.

The superman watched as the last guard was dispatched and the way cleared, then stalked in his metal suit into the brig.  The robots had already opened the cells from the central control panel, after moving the body of the security officer off of it.  “Who is in charge of your group?” he questioned, his voice booming out of the suit speaker system.

“I guess I am,” said a young woman, stepping from the group that was starting to gather in the central room of the brig.  “Since the bastards killed my captain.”

Watcher looked the proud young lady in the face, noting the commander tabs on her torn jumper.  She looked back at him with big dark eyes that were unafraid, despite the treatment she had received at the hands of the Nation of Humanity.  Both of those eyes were blackened, and there were cuts on her face, and the gaps where teeth used to be showing when she spoke.  The jumper was almost ripped apart, and her flesh was marred with many cuts and bruises.  And I’m sure the injuries go deeper than the surface, thought Watcher with a grimace.  He knew the Nation had sophisticated torture methods that they must have also used.  Bastards, he thought, then cleared his mind.  There would be time for rage later.  Now it was time to act.

“I am Commander Kallistara,” said the woman, glancing around at her ragged command.  “XO of the Callista.  Or I guess I should say the former XO, since Callista no longer exists.  And who might I be talking to?”

“I am Watcher,” said the armored warrior, smiling at the looks of surprise and mumbled words.

“And you have come to rescue us?” said the senior officer in a surprised voice.

“I came to rescue Pandora Latham, who I believe you people are familiar with,” said Watcher, taking a second to monitor Pandi and frowning.  That woman is determined to get herself killed.

“So she lived,” said the woman, relief in her voice, while the murmuring of the people behind her increased   “She saved our lives, or the fanatics would have wiped us out without a fight.  But we were afraid that she was killed when her ship exploded.”

“She got off,” said Watcher, again monitoring Pandora and seeing that she had gotten herself out of the room and into another storage area.  But they would find her soon.  “We need to move, now.  If you are willing to help, I will try to get you off the station.”

“And if we aren’t willing to help?” yelled out a young man from the group who was cradling an arm that looked to be broken.

“I will still get you out of here, or at least make a try,” said Watcher, looking the man in the eyes until the Spacer turned away.  “I won’t be able to leave security here for you, and it will take longer, but if there is a way to get you off this ship, and back to your homes, I will find it.”  I have so much to atone for, thought Watcher, looking at the frightened faces before him, and seeing determination come over most of them.  I can at least do this much for allies.

“What say you?” said the young Commander, looking back at her crew.

The yells were overwhelmingly to the positive, with only a few naysayers.

“I guess that means we are your people, Watcher,” said the Commander, giving him a gap toothed smile.

“Then gather up what weapons there are.  Arm yourselves.  Then we will strike for the armory over in the next section.”

“And then?” asked the officer with a grin.

“And then we take this ship.  And we rejoin your companions on the surface, who I am sure are doing what they can to help us.”

The Suryans started to move, gathering weapons and making sure those best able to use them had them.

It was a short fight to get to the armory, with Watcher and his robots providing the point of the assault force, the Suryans securing the flanks.  Soon the Suryans were being equipped with Marine combat equipment, sans the armored suits which had to be fitted to the individual.  Still, they had naval personnel helmets and body armor, and Watcher led a much improved force away from the Armory.  He was starting to feel good about his chances of taking the ship when they ran into the first line of Marines.

*     *     *

“The damned woman has broken free again,” called the voice of the Security Chief over the com.

“And how in the Hells did that happen?” asked Admiral Gerasi, sitting up in his command chair on the bridge and putting his face in his hands.  That woman will be the death of me yet.

“She had some tricks on her suit that caught us unawares,” said the Chief of Security.  “She was able to use the laser units on her forearms to cut herself free.”

“Casualties?” asked Gerasi in a tired voice.

“Three spacers, including the officer in charge, and three Marines.”

“And where is she now?”

“We don’t know, sir,” said the Security Chief in a low voice.  “She disappeared once she got out of the compartment.”

“Of course you don’t know,” said Gerasi, straining to keep his voice calm.  “And how did she get out of the compartment?  You had men outside of it, did you not?”

“We had sent all the men we had to the stern amidships, to take care of the Abomination,” said the man, a cringe in his voice.  “We did not expect her to be able to escape.”

“Detail as many men as you can to find her,” said Gerasi, enunciating each word while he tried to stay calm.

“All of the Marines are engaged, or soon to be engaged, with the Abomination and the Suryans he freed.”

Gerasi closed his eyes and grimaced at that.  With one move Watcher had doubled his strength.  “Then arm spacers to search for her, and maybe a platoon of the reinforcements.  The rest of the Marines will be detailed to take the Abomination.”

“And what do we do if we capture her?” said the Security Chief.

“You don’t capture her, you dolt,” growled the Admiral over the link.  “You kill her.  You make sure her body is turned to ash and vapor, after you make sure that it actually is her.  Maybe save a finger for genetic testing.  But I want her dead, even if you have to destroy half the ship to get her.”

“Are you sure about that last, Admiral?”

“I am fucking sure, you dumb ass,” he yelled.  “And the Abomination too.  Because if we don’t kill them they will take this ship away from us, and it won’t matter what condition it is in.  Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” said the Chief in a cowed tone.  “I’ll get right on it.  May God be with us.”

“May God be with us,” repeated the Admiral in the statement of faith of his church.  Though he doesn’t seem to be doing too well by us so far.  The Admiral shook his head and dismissed that blasphemous thought.  God did as God did, and it was not for man to question him.  It was only for men to strive to accomplish God’s will, and stand up to whatever tests were placed on his shoulders.  But why did I have to be tested with these two? he thought, shaking his head while the rest of the bridge crew kept glancing at him, wondering if he was in his right mind.

*     *     *

“I’m getting damned tired of this,” growled Colonel Wilhelm Johanson, looking up at the map of the Galaxy that floated in the center of the huge chamber.  “Why the hell can’t we get this thing to accept the signal?  I would have thought that something would have to get through if we sent it continuous.”

“I just wish we could find a control center for the computer,” said Commander Hanson, his fingers flying on the virtual keyboard attached to the computer plugged into the console.

“I guess we could look around some more,” said the Colonel, turning a baleful gaze onto the console.  “But we don’t even know what we’re looking for.  Would it be an impressive room with a lot of chairs and consoles, or simply a room with one chair and a holo projector?”

“Or a room like this?” said the Commander, sitting up straight in his chair.  “Computer.  Is this one of the control rooms?”

“Do you really think it will answer that question?” asked the scowling Colonel.

“I think it can beat around the bush a bit,” said the Commander with a shrug of his shoulders.  “But I believe it has to be truthful with the answer to a direct question, if it is allowed to answer at all.  So again, computer, is this one of the control rooms for you?”

“It is indeed, Commander,” said the toneless voice that still seemed to be laden with regret.  “From this room all of my central functions can be accessed.”

“At this console?”

“No, Commander.  This is not the console to directly access my functions.  It is on the other side of the room.”

“Show it to me,” said the Colonel, a smile creeping across his face.  “Show it to me, you blasted machine, and right now.”

The Colonel looked over at the Commander with a smile of triumph.  We got you, you son of a bitch.  And once we get you we have this whole damned place.

Chapter Twenty-Five

It always amazed me how soon the miraculous seemed to become the normal.  When I first came to the future everything was an eye opener.  Now I take it as matter of fact.  I guess we’re not so advanced from the monkeys we came from, able to adjust to just about anything.  Or else the God my daddy believed in was not very good at making us better than the beasts.   Pandora Latham.

Pandora crept down the corridor, her suit not making a sound as she floated ten centimeters above the floor, the stealth field blending her in with her surroundings.  There were some damaged areas on the skin of the suit that weren’t functioning properly, but as long as she kept in the shadows she didn’t think that would be much of a problem.  And having partial control of the lighting systems made sure there were shadows to use.

Her audio sensors picked up a sound from ahead, from where the corridor intersected with another, and Pandi shifted her suit orientation and floated up to the ceiling, between the crossbeams that strengthened the corridor.  She faced down and locked her suit into position, using the soles of her feet and her fingertips to bond to the metal surface.  And then she waited, pretty sure that she would be invisible to whoever would look that way, still tensing up and getting ready to move into the attack if she was spotted.

Don’t know how much more excitement I can take, she thought as her audio pickups followed the sound of boot heels striking the surface of the floor.  There were four of them passing her way, and soon she could see them advancing along the corridor.  All were dressed as spacers, with body armor strapped to their chests, shoulders and thighs, as well as helmets on their heads.  They all were carrying mag rifles, one with a grenade launcher, and had bandoliers of ammo strapped over their body armor.  Pandora breathed a sigh of relief that they weren’t Marines, whose visual and audio systems might have picked her up despite her stealth.

The men stepped below, then the one in charge raised a fist in the air and they all stopped, directly beneath her.  Crap, thought Pandora as the sweat ran off her face to strike her faceplate.  The ever present suit nanos attacked the drops of moisture and whisked them away, but the woman still had the irrational notion that some sweat would get through and fall onto the men below.

“What you stopping for, Chief?” asked the man with the grenade launcher.

“I thought I heard something,” said the man, looking around.  He glanced up a second and Pandora felt her heart in her throat.  She stayed motionless, her suit locked so she couldn’t make an inadvertent move.  The man’s eyes only moved in her direction for a moment, then slid back to the front.  “Wonder why there are so many shadows in the corridors,” said the Chief, glancing up the corridor.  “What’s wrong with the lighting system?”

“Hell, Chief,” said one of the men, his own eyes darting around the corridor ahead and behind.  “As shot up as this ship is, I’m surprised anything is working.”

“Must be my nerves, dealing with these damned heretics,” said the Chief, shaking his head.

“And heretics with superior tech,” said another man, his own eyes darting here and there.  “Ain’t that a bitch.  Makes me wonder whose side God is on sometimes.”

“Watch your blasphemous mouth, Connors,” growled the leader, glaring at the speaker.  “Or do you want to make the acquaintance of an Inquisitor?”

“Kind of hard, that,” said the grenadier.  “She went and killed all the Inquisitors on this ship, deader than shit.”

“The Hell with it,” said the leader, raising a hand in the air that was only an eighth meter from touching the invisible woman.  “Let’s move out, so we can get this over with.”

“I just hope it’s someone else who makes first contact with her,” said the grenadier, shaking his head.  “Whoever finds her first,” he continued, shaking his head again.  “Well, I hope they get to heaven quickly.”

“Let’s go,” growled the leader, stepping off down the corridor, the others following at his back.

Pandora let out her breath in a sigh of relief.  She waited until the men were thirty meters down the corridor before she unbonded from the ceiling and dropped down, floating on her grabbers.  She looked over the schematic of the ship in her mind and found the route she wanted.  It might take her some time to get to where she was going, but she thought she could get there.  First she had to get into the starboard amidships missile room, and then navigate up the warhead feeds to one of the sternward missile rooms.  Then it would be a short run to where Watcher was, and they could get off this damned ship.

*     *     *

This is really not going as planned, thought Watcher as he snapped off a particle beam at the enemy position, and saw it splash from the strong electromagnetic shield those worthy’s had erected before them.  A particle beam came back in return, and ninety percent splashed from Watcher’s electromag field.  The ten percent that got through caused some scarring to his armor, and the superconducting cooling system went into overdrive to shunt the heat away before it got to his flesh.

Watcher changed the beam with a thought, setting it for neutrons, which might make it through the field.  He leaned around the corner with his weapon and fired a snap shot at the enemy particle beam, then cursed again as it splashed off the screen.  He ducked back just before the enemy put a beam through the position he had just occupied, the angry red line eating into the wall of the corridor.  The field is too thick, he thought.  His neutron beam had picked up a charge as it flew through the positively charged field, slowing down and deflecting away as it penetrated inward.  What got through hit a physical barricade of hard metal, and the point of impact glowing for just a moment.  That spot showed white for a second, then went through red and cool black so fast that he knew there was superconducting heat sink system built into the metal.

He thought about using negative matter for a moment, then dismissed the idea.  It would just be deflected and come back his way, and there was no telling how much would hit friendlies.  And we’ve never worked with neutrally charged negative matter, he thought, since such would be uncontainable by any kind of containment field.

I should have moved faster, and not waited for the Suryans to get armed and ready, was his next thought, as he watched a trio of particle beams intersect one of his battlebots and leave its head a mass of glowing, melting metal.  The robot of course had its processors in the better protected chest region, but the hit had still taken out most of its sensory nodes.

No, I had to wait, and let the fanatics establish themselves in redoubts behind strong electromag screens.  Watcher was a student of military history, and he knew the saying that no plan survived contact with the enemy.  He thought the saying needed revision now, to no plan could help but devolve into total chaos on contact with the enemy.  If he had moved faster, or even ignored the brig and its captives altogether, he would already be past this block.  Instead he was fighting a fortified enemy in that enemy’s territory, which he knew much better than Watcher.  And like Stalingrad in the past, his superior tech and abilities were being neutralized in a battle of attrition he could not win.

“I am truly sorry, Pandora,” he said under his breath, looking at the schematic and wondering what he could do to break the deadlock.  The only recourse he could see was to move his squad of robots that were still on the hull around the enemy, and attack them to the rear.  That meant committing his last reserve, something he was not wont to do, but it seemed the situation would give him no other choice.

[Move out,] he ordered the robots over the link, watching as they rose up on the hull and started moving forward to the next airlock, where they could infiltrate into the ship.

Something hit one of the robots, an invisible beam that left a glowing patch on its shoulder.  This was followed by more beams, and Watcher looked through the eyes of one of the bots to see a couple of squads of Nation Marines, firing from a hundred meters away on the hull.  He didn’t know how they had spotted the stealthed robots, but they had, and unless he could get the robots to cover, soon, they would be swatted from the hull.

Too late, he cried in his thoughts as the mounted lasers and particle beams on surrounding ships began to fall on the robots, turning them into glowing scrap at the same time they blasted a deep hole in the hull of the Orca.  He didn’t know how many casualties the weapons strike from the other ships might have caused to the flagship, but it had sure as shit destroyed his one reserve.

He checked his HUD again, noting that the three robots and fifteen Suryans he had sent on a flanking maneuver were almost to the point where they would make contact with the enemy, and he followed them closely in between the shots he fired at the Marines to his front.  Come on, he thought, trying to exert his will and make the maneuver successful.  Then they were gone, and a low rumbling vibration told of some kind of large explosion nearby.

Dammit, thought Watcher, slamming a hard gauntleted hand down on his armored thigh.  The Nation Marines had been ready for that maneuver, and had caught them in a booby trap, an explosive device that had taken them out without the possibility of a reply.  The robots were irreplaceable at this time, but were still only machines.  The Suryans were not replaceable at any time.  And Watcher held back the tears that wanted to follow the thought that his commands had caused their deaths.  He pushed that thought away.  He didn’t have time for it, and mourning could come later.

He aimed his particle beam cannon and fired away, a series of one second shots that eroded the energy of the field and struck a Nation Marine in the faceplate as he looked over the physical barricade to fire.  The man fell back with a smoking hole burned through his helmet, and Watcher allowed himself a smile of satisfaction.  One more down, the rest to go, he thought, pulling his armored body around the corner and resting for a moment, before planning his next move.

*     *     *

“That should do it,” said Commander Hanson, pushing the commit button.  “The signal should now be going to the central processor.”

“About time,” growled Colonel Johanson, still glaring at the console as if it contained the offending AI.  “Computer.  This is Colonel Wilhelm Johanson of the Nation of Humanity Marines.  Do you acknowledge the reception of the code transmission from Pandora Latham?”

“I acknowledge the transmission of the code from Pandora Latham,” said the computer in its calm voice.  “What can I do for you, Colonel Johanson?”

“You can turn over control of this station to myself, in my capacity of an officer of the Nation of Humanity Marines,” said the Colonel.

“I am afraid I cannot do that, Colonel Johanson,” said the computer in a voice tone that almost sounded like a smirk.

“What do you mean, cannot do that?” growled the Colonel, his hand falling to his sidearm.  “Do you acknowledge that the code was correct, and that it was sent by Pandora Latham?”

“I acknowledge both of those as factual statements,” said the computer.

“And protocol is to turn the station command to the person in the control center when you receive such a code transmission?”

“That is also correct, Colonel Johanson.”

“Then what’s the fucking problem?” said the Colonel, slapping his pistol butt in frustration.

“Pandora Latham was under duress when she transmitted that code,” said the computer.  “And being under duress, she is determined to not be acting of her own free will.  Therefore, the code transmission is not accepted as an order from Pandora Latham.”

“What the fuck,” yelled the Colonel.  “I’ll take you apart, you damned machine.”

“This control room is vital to the functioning of the station,” said the computer, its voice going flat.  “You are warned not to attempt to destroy this control room, as I will be forced to defend myself.”

“Calm down a minute, Colonel,” said the Commander, putting a hand on the senior officer’s right arm.  “Computer, how would we convince you that Pandora Latham was in possession of all her faculties, and willingly transmitted this code?”

“That could be accomplished by bringing Pandora Latham to the station, and allowing me to communicate with her,” said the computer in a tone that let them know it didn’t believe that would be happening.

“No other way?” asked the Commander.

“No, Commander Hanson,” said the computer.  “No other way.”

“Then I’ll reduce you to scrap,” yelled the Colonel, jerking his laser pistol from its holster.  “In the name of the one true God, I will destroy this place.”

“That is inadvisable, Colonel Johanson,” said the computer, its voice again flat.  “This control room is a vital installation on this station, and I am authorized to defend it with deadly force.”

“Are there any weapons in here that the computer might be able to use against us?” asked the Colonel, looking over at the Commander.

“Not that I know of,” said the Commander, shrugging his shoulders.  “But we really don’t know its capabilities.  I would advise…”

“That’s all I want to hear,” said the Colonel, raising his pistol and pointing it at the console.  He fired a blast from the weapon, burning a hole through the metal casing with a shower of sparks.  “Everyone,” yelled the officer to the other thirty Marines and spacemen who were in the room.  They were already looking at him intently as he destroyed the control console he stood next to.  “Fire up this place.  I don’t want there to be a working circuit when we are done.”

The other men yelled and cheered, and took aim with their weapons at other control stations and holo screen projectors.  Within seconds everyone was blasting away at some of the hardware in the large room.

“Initiating defense procedures,” said the computer over the speaker.

“You’re so full of shit, computer,” yelled the Colonel, laughing.  “And I’m going to send you to Hell, if I have to destroy half this station to do so.”

Commander Hanson stared at the Colonel as if the man had gone mad, which it seemed he had.  There’s no way we could destroy even a thousandth of a percent of this station, even with the fleet.  So what the Hell is he talking about?

And then it happened.  There was a ripple in the air over the control console.  The air rippled again, and then a small hole appeared that expanded quickly.  And with the hole came a suction that pulled at the very molecules of the Commander.  He knew what was happening at that moment.  The computer had opened a wormhole gate, which led to the oblivion on the other side of the event horizon of the black hole.

This is madness, thought the Commander, looking for a way out.  His religion and science did not know what happened to a human who was crushed out of existence by a black hole.  Would the soul even survive?  Hanson tried to turn and run, but his muscles could not counteract the pull that lifted him from the floor and moved him toward that hole in space and time.

The tidal forces pulled at his body as he approached the wormhole, the uneven stresses pulling his head, which was facing the hole, harder than his feet, which were facing away.  Spaghettification was the last word to enter his mind.  Mercifully, he didn’t have more than a fraction of a second to feel the agony that funny sounding word was associated with.  He disappeared into the hole to reappear at the other end of the passage through space-time, beneath the event horizon of the black hole.  By then he was dead, and moments later he was snuffed out of existence, as the matter which made up his body was crushed to a mathematical point and pulled into the mass of the black hole.

The end of the wormhole moved like the questing head of a snake, sucking each Nation Marine or Spaceman into its hungry maw in sequence.  Some were paralyzed with fear and surprise.  Some tried to escape from the room.  It made no difference, as all were sent into the black hole by the wormhole mouth that was a directed weapon.  In moments there was no one left in the room.  There was some superficial damage to the machinery, but it was made of very strong materials, and had been able to resist the pull that unanchored men could not.  As soon as the wormhole winked out of existence the station computer started the repair procedures that would set the control room back to rights.

Minutes later someone got up the courage to see what had happened in the room.  And then the rumors started to fly, and the men of the expedition were not so willing to poke their noses into places they didn’t know.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Do not trust the cheering, for those persons would shout as much if you or I were going to be hanged.   Oliver Cromwell

Pandora Latham was not afraid of tight spaces.  No one could work in space who was a claustrophobe.  That said, she was not a great fan of them either.  The warhead transfer tube was large enough to move the meter wide warheads that consisting of a weapon and sensory suite, from the front and rear magazines of the ship.  It was large enough for her three quarters of a meter wide suit, even giving her some room to move around, as long as she remained in a horizontal position.  Still, she envisioned one of those warheads coming from either direction and crushing her in its passage.  Just have to hope they don’t get into a space battle while I’m in here, she thought with a grimace.

She floated in the center of the tube on her grabbers, her suit set to keep her in the exact center so she didn’t scrape along any of its surfaces.  She schematic of the ship was in her head, the blinking dot of her suit centered in it.  There were still a hundred meters to go to get to where she needed to be, and she thought she could be there in the next thirty seconds.  At least that was the plan, until someone else’s plans took precedence.

The side of the tube facing the outer skin of the ship burst in without warning.  Fragments of metal and composites bounced from the inner surface of the tube and careened on in both directions, a few bouncing from her suit.  The feed tube shuddered from the vibrations picked up from the mass of the ship, and continued to shake for ten seconds or so.  Something heavy must have hit the ship, she thought, wondering what.  Then the tube shook again, this time from a heavy explosion located some distance away.

Well, I ain’t getting through this way, thought Pandora, looking at the hull metal that was curled in from the new opening.  So what do I do now?

“You there, lover?” she asked on the com, not knowing what she would do if he didn’t answer, and fearing the worst.

“I am still here, Pandora,” answered Watcher in the flat voice that let her know he was in combat mode.  “I see that they almost got you as well with the lasers and particle beams.”

“So, what happened?”

“They were sweeping my robots off the hull with the weapons from the other ships,” said Watcher.  “Apparently, they hit the hull of the Orca with more than they had planned.”

Pandi found him on her locator and tagged his position, then looked at the schematics to try and find a path to him.  Watcher’s system filled hers in, and she cursed as she saw the blocking forces that the enemy had between her and her mate.

“They have my forces pinned down,” said Watcher, who Pandi’s system knew was looking at the same schematic.  “They are behind strong electromagnetic fields and armored barricades, and I am not really sure how we are going to get past them.”

“Can’t you get your bots to blast them out with missiles?” asked Pandora, realizing as the words left her mouth that of course Watcher would have already considered that.

“I don’t have many missiles left with the remainder of my bots,” said the superman, aggravation creeping into his voice.  “And the enemy has layered positions.  I might be able to blast through a couple of them, but would still run into a roadblock that would stop us dead in our tracks.”

“Um hmm,” said Pandi, looking at the schematic.  “So I got an idea, seeing that I’m in the position that I am.”  She filled Watcher in on the plan, and he sent back an affirmative.

“Just be careful, Pandora,” said Watcher, concern in his voice.  “I did not come here to rescue you just to see you get killed.  I wish you would consider getting off the ship while you may.”

“And I’m not leaving without you, you big lug,” she said, laughter in her voice.  “Either we both get off of this here ship, or neither of us does.  Is that understood?”

“Yes ma’am,” said Watcher, a laugh in his voice.  “You would have made a formidable officer.”

“I prefer to work for a living,” she retorted, backing up from her position and looking for the nearest maintenance hatch.  “You just hold tight and wait for my signal, and we’ll all get out of here, the Suryans included.”

“Yes, ma’am,” repeated Watcher with another laugh.  “I’ll be waiting.  Just don’t get that pretty head blown off.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” said Pandi, working the controls to the access hatch.  “I got plans for this head.  Plans I think you are gonna to like.”

Pandora opened the hatch, then shot the last of her microbots out to scout the room beyond.  Breathing a sigh of relief she joined the tiny robot in the room and started on her way, using the small machine as her scout.

*     *     *

“We have them boxed in, sir,” said the Security Chief over the com.

“And you are sure of that because?” asked the Admiral, not really willing to trust the officer who had made so many mistakes in the past twelve hours.  Though, to give him credit, thought the Admiral, remembering the abilities of the people they were matched up against, I’m not sure anyone else could have done much better.  Myself included.

“We have three layers of troops covering all the exits and any possible breakout points,” said the man, pride in his voice.  “And we have electromagnetic screens up in front of all of the strong points.  Ship mounted generators we took from storage, and I don’t think he is going to just blast through them with what he has.”

“What about if he tries to come through the walls?”

“Most of the walls lead to other rooms, and not corridors,” said the Security Chief with pride.  “Any walls he could come through are hooked up to superconducting heat sinks and more electromag fields.  I don’t think he’s going to come through, and if he does, we will get an alert and have a response team there before he even realizes how hopeless it is.”

“I am impressed, Lt. Commander,” said the Admiral, a smile on his face for the first time all day, looking over the dispositions of troops and equipment on a splitter screen.  “I agree.  I don’t see how they could get through there without antimatter, or a big damned bomb.  Keep me apprised when you come up with a plan for rooting them out.”

“Rooting them out?” asked the man, fear and confusion mingling in his voice.  “I thought we could just keep them trapped in that section until they decide to surrender.”

“And have them maintain control of a twentieth of my ship,” said the Admiral in an angry voice.  “I think not.  I want a plan of attack that will take them out, and I want it within the next twenty minutes.  And if not I will have you lead the attack that I devise, from the front.”

“Yes sir,” stammered the officer back, and Gerasi felt a cold smile curl his lips as he listened to the near panic in the man.  “Right away, sir.”  And then the com link was dead, leaving Gerasi to lean back, to savor the moment he had caused such panic in an officer who had done nothing all day but make the moments miserable for his supreme commander.

“We’re getting a call from the pyramid about something that happened on the Donut,” called out the Com Officer, a stricken look on his face.

“What the hell now?” cried the Admiral.  “What the hell could Johanson have stuck it in now?”  The Admiral looked over at the Com Officer and nodded his head.  “What’s going on down there?”

“They’re gone, sir,” came the panicky voice at the other end.

“Who’s gone, son?” asked the Admiral, trying to project calm he didn’t quite feel to settle the man down.

“The Colonel, the Commander, everyone in the control room is just gone,” said the voice of the man, whom the com identified as Lt. Colonel Matthes.  “And all their gear.”

“Did anyone see it happen?” asked the Admiral, wishing he had an eyewitness to talk to, and not the man in charge of the defense of the pyramid.

“Everyone who was in a position to see anything is gone,” repeated the Lt. Colonel.  “A couple of men went into the room when the shouting started, but the doors closed hard behind them, and they’re also gone.”

“And all the equipment is gone too?” asked the Admiral, confused as well.

“All except for the plugs of some of the computer equipment they had jacked into the native consoles.  Besides them, everything is gone.  And the room is in perfect order, before you ask.”

“That doesn’t make a lick of sense,” said the Admiral, furrowing his brow.  Even if something used a particle beam or laser there would be residue, a lot of it.  Negative matter?  A wormhole?  But how would a wormhole suck everything in like that, like some kind of vacuum cleaner that only attracted our people and things.  It just doesn’t make sense.

“What about these yells?” he asked the officer, trying to stay logical.  “What did they say?”

“Mostly prayers,” said the Colonel.  “Calling for help, or asking God to save them.  And that damned sound in the background, like the roaring of air.”

The roaring of air,” thought the Admiral, his mind making a connection he didn’t like.  The black hole.  Did the station computer make a wormhole connection to the black hole?  But it isn’t allowed to take life without sentient control, is it?  And what could they have done to have provoked it so?

“Colonel,” said the Admiral in a slow clear voice.  “Transmit these instructions to the ranking officer on the Donut.  He is to continue his exploration of the structure, but to proceed under extreme caution.  And to stay out of that control room, no matter what.  We will send some more naval techs to help him out.  Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” said the officer on the other end of the link.

What else could go wrong? he thought.  Minutes later he wished he hadn’t asked that question, as he found out what else could go wrong.

*     *     *

Watcher didn’t have any antimatter over and above the minute amount needed to power his own suit as a backup to its crystalline matrix batteries.  He wished he had brought some atomic or quarkium weapons with him, and made a note to have at least a couple mid yield bombs in his possession next time, if there was one.  One item he did have was negative matter.  His five remaining robots all had a couple hundred grams of the material in magnetic bottles, and he had salvaged over a kilogram of material from the six inoperative robots he had been able to reach.  He thought that it would be enough.  He hoped it would, or he was in dire straits.  So he waited in the large room that fronted on a corridor it didn’t open up into, with his robots and forty of the Suryans, while the rest of the subjects of that kingdom kept guard at the hotspots the Nation folks had blocked.

“When do we strike?” asked the young Commander who was in charge of the humans, Yasha Kallistara.

“When it is time to strike,” said Watcher, looking at the nervous officer with calm eyes.  “And not a moment sooner.”

“I wish you would give me a straight answer, sir,” said the young officer with a scowl.

“And I wish I had one to give, young lady,” said Watcher, himself hoping that Pandora would get into position, and knowing that it would do no good if she were spotted and stopped before she could.  “It all depends on my mate getting into position, and being ready to support us when we strike.”

The young Commander stared at him for a moment, then shook her head.  She looked back with a gleam in her eye.  “You really love her, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” said Watcher, not having to ask what she was talking about.  “She is the love of my life.  Without her I would still be the lonely creature haunting that station.  Or something even worse.”

“I hope someday I have someone who would be willing to sacrifice all to come rescue me from danger,” said the woman.

“I’m sure someday that person will enter your life, Commander,” said Watcher, checking his schematic and seeing that Pandora was almost where she needed to be.  “And I hope by that time you will have no need of rescuing.  Now get your people ready,” said the superman, sending the order to his robots to move into final position.  “I think the show is about to start, as my mate would say.”

With a signal the robots went to work, spraying a slight stream of negative matter along the planned breakout point, slicing into the hull metal and leaving just a thin layer to hold it together.  Within a minute the robots had expended most of their negative matter, and had traced a two and a half meter high by three meter wide oval in the wall.  Watcher sent the next order, and the robots arrayed themselves for the following phase and waited.

*     *     *

Pandora was ready to ‘get the show on the road’, but it seemed that the Marines of the Nation of Humanity had different ideas.  She had been able to make it to within thirty meters of where she needed to be, the corridor that fronted the breakout point that Watcher had chosen.

“We’re ready,” said Watcher over the com.  She could hear the impatience in his voice despite his attempt to control it.  Someone else would have heard pure calm, but she knew him better than anyone.

“I’ve got some clowns between you and me, lover,” she said, looking at the take from the microbot.  “A half dozen plug uglies I think are their reaction force.”

“Then we need to wait,” said Watcher, enunciating each word.

Pandora smiled.  She knew he could read her as well.  She wanted to get this thing going, for better or worse.  “We can’t wait too long, lover, and you know it,” she finally said.  “I got all kinds of movement out here, like more troops are moving into place.  Soon we won’t have a snowball’s chance in hell.”

“And I am picking up more shuttles as well,” said Watcher, after a sigh that told her he recognized the logic of her statement.  “They will be delivering even more Marines.”

“Then we need to move, and move now,” said Pandora, planning what she would do when she left the security of this hidey hole.  “Here goes.”

Pandora pulled a trio of grenades from her suit that she had picked up from the Nation Marines, armed them, then threw them around the corner into the corridor.  One of the Marines saw the grenades and yelled something out.  They started to move, but the grenades were on a short fuse, and went off before they could do too much.  The two closest Marines caught the brunt of the blast and were blown off their feet.  Their armor protected them from severe damage, but one lay still after he hit the ground, and the other staggered up with only one working leg.  The other men were able to take the blast and keep their feet, and their wits.

The woman from the past had never thought of herself as a hero, but she had sure acted that way since she had arrived in the future.  Now she didn’t even think about her actions, or the risks that she ran.  She just went with the flow and hoped for the best.  Those were her thoughts as she erupted from around the corner with a mag rifle in each hand, stocks held under her arms.  Each rifle was set to single shot, maximum velocity, armor piercing rounds.

Pandora had always been a good shot, exceptional to tell the truth.  She had come into the future with a pair of matched Gold Cup forty-fives, the pistols she had used to win many contests on Earth.  And now that she was enhanced she was an even better shot, with a steadier hand, sharper eye, and exceptional targeting ability.  The mag rifles were made to penetrate the armor of the men she faced.  They were not intended to take on her level of armor, but three of the men had weapons that could, a pair of heavy lasers and an auto-grenade launcher.  One man was down, and one man with a mag rifle was unsteady on his feet.  She instantly prioritized her targets and attacked.

The first two shots, one from each rifle, went unerringly into the faceplates of a laser gunner and the grenadier.  Faceplates shattered inward, the high velocity rounds cracking, then breaking the hard plastic of the plate.  Both men dropped their weapons as they began a fall to the ground.  Pandora’s second pair of shots took out the rifleman, but a combination of firing too soon and the man moving made the shot at the second laser gunner miss.  That gave him enough time to fire a shot that hit Pandora on the joint of her left shoulder.  With a shower of sparks the shoulder froze in place, and Pandora yelped in pain as some of the heat of the heavy laser beam came through the suit.  She brought the rifle over to point at the man’s face while the laser continued to burn into her suit.  A shot through his faceplate and he dropped the laser and fell dead to the floor.

Pandora cursed as she put a shot through the last rifleman, the one who seemed to be having trouble getting his suit to respond.  She thought for a moment about shooting the man on the floor, then dismissed the thought as petty.  He was out of the fight, and shooting him now was just plain murder, something she did not want to resort to.  So she stepped over the body and headed for the next target area.  She tried to move her left arm, but that limb of the suit was frozen, and she was sure that nothing short of a stay in an armory or workshop was going to make it functional again.

“We’re burning through now,” said Watcher over the com.  Then his voice took on a more urgent quality.  “Your suit is damaged.  I want you to abort and get out of here.”

“No way, lover,” said Pandi, turning another corridor and opening fire with the grenade launcher she had picked up from the dead trooper behind her.  “I’m the cavalry, and the cavalry never turns back just before the nick of time.”

*     *     *

Watcher grimaced as he looked at the damage readout from Pandi’s suit.  He thought that any rational being would turn back, instead of bringing such a damaged piece of armor into combat, though he admitted he would have continued on if it had been he coming to her rescue.

“Now,” he ordered his robots, and they all went to work, pumping out high energy laser beams and cutting the oval piece free from the bulkhead.  In an instant it was done, and Watcher, along with a pair of his robots, slammed into the piece and ejected it into the corridor, knocking over two Nation Marines who hadn’t gotten out of the way in time.  The rest of the Marines started firing at Watcher and his robots.  Only a few were equipped with mag rifles, and their rounds bounced harmlessly from the armored superman and his heavy combat robots.  Most of the others had beam weapons of some sort, and they could be deadly, and evidenced by one of the combat robots losing a hind limb as soon as it broke into the corridor.

Watcher turned in that direction while three of his robots fired the other way.  His particle beam cannon struck an enemy, tearing through the suit, killing the man inside.  He moved his aim point as the next barrel rotated into place, and put out another killing shot.  The robots kept up the barrage, along with some Suryans who had come out to lend their fire.  He noted two of his robots dropping off the net and turned quickly in that direction, watching as the third robot was hit by a powerful particle beam and went down with a hole through its thorax.  Watcher fired his own cannon, and shouted in dismay as the beam bounced from an electromag screen in front of the enemy gun that had to have been taken from some kind of vehicle mount.  He started to adjust his own beam, to change the barrel settings so they would strip the charges off the particles as they left the weapon, hoping he could get some into the enemy weapon.  Too late, he thought, as the ominous barrel swung in his direction, until it was pointed directly at his body.

*     *     *

“We have something coming out of, I don’t know what they’re coming out of,” said the panicked voice of the Sensor Officer, over an Oh shit by the Tactical Officer.

Admiral Miklas Gerasi looked up from the repeater screen where he was keeping track of the battle in the amidships section of his vessel, and swore as well as he looked at the main viewer.

Something was opening up the space out there, as big red dots began to form and expand.  The Admiral could see that there was some other space on the other side, seeded with black points that looked like the negatives of stars.  And things started to come through the openings, ships of a configuration he had never before seen.  He remembered tales of the hyperspace used by the ancients, other dimensions that his people had still not learned to access.  And here was evidence that someone else had rediscovered them.  They were here, and he didn’t know their intentions.

The first ship to come through its rip was slightly larger than his own, as were the next five.  Then came four larger vessels, all about five times the mass of his ships.  He thought they were the biggest vessels he had ever seen, almost two kilometers in length, with triangular grabber units bow, stern and amidships, and large boxy apparatus on dorsal and ventral surfaces.  Then came the last two ships through their wide open rips in space, and the Admiral felt his mind stagger.  They were easily three, maybe four kilometers in length, and a kilometer in width, and had to mass twenty million tons if anything.

Two of the Nation warships fired on one of the smaller of the enemy ships, the escorts.  Their lasers and particle beams did no damage, striking a strong field and reflecting off.  The escorts fired on the two offending vessels with bright as sun beams that tore through the two Nation’s battleships like a laser through thin wood.  Both vessels went up in a series of secondary explosions, leaving a spreading debris field where had existed million ton warships with crews of several thousand each, all gone.

“Do not fire on my ships,” came a strangely accented voice over the com, while a face formed on the main viewer of a youngish looking man with blond hair and a square jaw.  “We have no quarrel with your people, but I will not tolerate aggressive action toward my vessels.”

“Who are you?” yelled Gerasi, fear and anger warring within him.  “What do you want?”

“We have come for the being known as Watcher,” said the man, whose face looked like that of a thirty year old, while his eyes looked much older.

“We have him aboard my vessel,” said the Admiral.  “He is my prisoner.”

“We demand that the being known as Watcher be turned over to us,” said the man, smiling a smile that did not reach his eyes.

“He is my prisoner,” said Gerasi, slamming a fist on his chair arm.  “Not to be turned over to a bunch of newcomers.”

The man nodded and looked at someone off screen, then said some words that Gerasi couldn’t understand.  The screen switched to a view of one of Gerasi’s vessels, just before a trio of bright beams intersected on it, and it disappeared in an explosion of vapor and the bright flashes of secondaries.  The face of the man reappeared on the screen.

“Do we understand each other now, Admiral Gerasi?” asked the man with another cold smile.

Gerasi nodded his head, not even wondering how the man knew his name.  “I will give my full cooperation, as long as you don’t harm any more of my ships or crews.”

“I do not think we will need to,” said the man.  “And you will turn the Watcher over to us?”

“He’s not really my prisoner,” said Gerasi with a frown.  “He is aboard this ship,” said the Admiral, raising a hand when the other started to speak, cutting him off.  “We are engaged with him and his forces at the moment, but I am sure that we will soon have him.”

“Then I will send my people aboard to assist in his apprehension,” said the man, looking off screen again and yelling out some harsh syllables.  “And I can expect your full cooperation?”

“Of course you may, uh.”

“Admiral Gunter Connor,” said the man, raising an eyebrow.  “Of his Imperial Ship Strausserr.”

“Imperial?”

“We represent the New Galactic Empire,” said the man with another cold smile.  “And I am here to arrest Watcher for crimes against the Galaxy, so that he may be tried and punished.”  The other Admiral glared into the screen for a moment.  “Justice will be done.”

“We have some very large shuttles leaving one of those ships,” said the Tactical Officer, wiping his sweat covered face.

“Do not fire on them,” said the Admiral.  “No matter what they do, or where they go?  Understood?”  He looked over at the Com Officer.  “Relay that order to the other ships.  Immediately.”

It was a sobering thought.  The Admiral knew that the Donut was their technological superior.  But now they knew that some of the fallen powers had risen faster than they had.  Sobering indeed, and the Admiral wondered whose side God was on.  And what would be the eventual fate of his civilization with such other powers in the Galaxy.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Never stand and take a charge... charge them too.   Nathan Bedford Forrest

Pandora flew around the corner as the image of what was there registered on her HUD, sent from the microbot.  Two Marines lay behind her in the suits she had hit with microgrenades.  The small explosive devices had been configured as armor piercers, and had ripped through the suits of the enemy while their mag rifle rounds bounced from hers.  But she knew this thing was a different can of worms.

Her eyes verified what the microbot had sent, that a heavy particle beam weapon had been deployed on tripod legs in the corridor.  It was obviously too heavy to be carried by an individual trooper, and had probably started out mounted on an air or ground vehicle.  Beside it were the large boxy apparatus of magnetic field generators, protecting the gun from fire from the front.  The gun fired as she started to raise her grenade launcher.  The enemy saw her and men with heavy lasers started to turn her way, while the gun elevated and traversed onto another target.  She didn’t know what that target was, but was sure it was something she didn’t want destroyed.

Pandi pulled the trigger and the launcher started to buck in her hands.  The microgrenades, twenty millimeters wide and packing a level four crystalline matrix punch, were set for proximity fuse.  They would detonate if they hit something, or on closest approach to something they missed.  The launcher sent the small rounds through a magnetic rail at the rate of ten a second.  Within two seconds of pulling the trigger twenty small explosions rippled around the large particle beam gun.  Both gunners were hit and went down, and the barrel tracked up just before letting off a burst of particles into the ceiling.  Pandi tracked the launcher onto the nearest of the laser gunners before he could get his weapon to bear, knocking him to the ground.  The other laser gunner fired, his beam striking Pandora in the knee and crippling the leg of the suit by welding the joint.  Pandi hit him in the chest with a stream of grenades, then shifted aim as she fell to the floor.  The grenades hit the magnetic field generator to the right of the particle beam, knocking it out of action.  Then she hit the floor and the launcher jarred out of her gauntleted hands.

“Bitch,” yelled the one surviving Marine, raising his laser and coming toward her in a jog.  He stopped above her and aimed his weapon at her head, while she tried to get her hand in the way.  “That’s not going to help you.  The Admiral ordered your dead, and I’m the one who’s going to do it.”  The Marine kicked her arm away.  She looked up at the barrel of the weapon, thankful that at least it wasn’t going to hurt, much.

*     *     *

Watcher stared in disbelief as the barrel of the particle beam elevated upward just before releasing the blast of protons into the ceiling, burning a large hole through the thick hull metal.  He yelled and fired a shot at the gun, his yell turning into a curse as the beam reflected away.  He fired a second shot and cheered again as some of it got through.  She did it, he thought, checking on Pandora and scowling as her status came up on the HUD.

The superman rocketed forward on his grabbers and through the remaining magnetic field, which dropped as he hit it.  He was over the particle beam and the magnetic field projectors in an instant.  To his horror he saw that Pandora’s suit was on the floor, a Marine standing over her with a laser aimed at her helmet.  Without hesitation Watcher aimed his weapon and fired, and the helmeted head of the Marine dissolved under the proton beam.  The man fell to the side, his weapon clattering to the floor, and Watcher was instantly at Pandi’s side.

“Are you OK?” he asked, putting a gauntleted hand on her armored shoulder.  He retracted his faceplate and looked down on his mate.

“I’ve been better,” she said, retracting her own faceplate so she could look at him face to face.  “Nothing some time in a regeneration tank won’t fix.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking into her eyes.  “I should have gotten here sooner, before those fanatics could do what they did to you.”

“You got here in the nick of time,” she said, tears brimming in both eyes.  “Just like the cavalry is supposed to.  So give me a kiss, you big lug.”

Watcher smiled and leaned over the woman, bringing his lips to her full mouth.  It was almost like an electric shock when he made physical contact.  It still amazed him that he could feel such toward another human.  He had used machines to pleasure himself before she came, and technically they were much better at it than any mere human.  But love, and the emotionality that went along with it, transcended the purely physical.  He kissed her for what seemed like minutes, savoring the taste of her mouth, until a throat clearing from behind caught his attention.

“I am so happy that you are reunited with your lady,” said the young Commander of the Suryan contingent.  “But I think we need to deal with other considerations at this time.”

“Right,” said Watcher, standing up and looking down at his woman.  “And I think we need to get you out of that metal trap you are in.”

Pandora nodded and the suit began to open up at the nano-seams.  It caught at the arm and leg joints that had been welded shut by laser blasts.  Watcher squatted by her side and extruded a small saw from his left forearm, quickly cutting through the metal.  He pulled the joints apart, and soon she was out of the suit and standing.

“They hurt you,” he said, looking at the torn bodysuit that showed a multitude of cuts and bruises.  He looked at her chest, frowned and pulled aside the ripped fabric.  He roared in anger as he saw what they had done to her breasts.  “I will kill all of them,” said Watcher, his heart raging, the little bit of Vengeance still in him rising to the fore.  “I will go to their home system and leave it a wasteland.”

“You will do no such thing,” said Pandora, wrapping her arms as far around Watcher’s armored suit as possible.  “I know.  I hate them too.  But we will not commit genocide because of what a few sorry assholes did to me.  You hear me?”

“I hear you,” said Watcher.  “I…”

“How touching,” said another voice, one neither recognized.  “But since you have already committed Galactic genocide, I have no doubt you would do so again.”

Watcher looked up to see a quartet of armored figures standing thirty meters down the corridor.  The suits looked unfamiliar, unlike any he had seen, but he could tell they were of advanced tech, if not quite as much as his own.

“And who might you be?” asked Watcher, holding on to Pandi and watching as more of the armored figures came into the corridor.

“I am Colonel Joshua Mitsubishi of the New Galactic Empire Marines,” said the armored figure.  “And I am here to arrest you for crimes against the Galaxy.  You would do well to come with us without a struggle.  I am ordered to bring you back alive.  Nothing was said about the people with you, but I would just as soon kill them all for guilt by association, you monster.”

“He’s changed,” said Pandora, struggling to get past the arm that Watcher was holding her in place with.  “That was not him.  It was that damned station computer, and the Vengeance persona it created.”  She glared angrily at the trooper, and Watcher was glad at that moment that she was not still in her battle suit.

“His guilt or innocence will be determined by the courts,” said the cold voice of the Colonel, in a tone that let Watcher know they had already determined him guilty of the crime he committed five thousand years before.

A shot was fired, one of the Suryans determined to not let these people take their rescuer.  The laser blast hit the suit of the Colonel, and was reflected off its field and surface like a flashlight from a mirror.  The particle beams that reached out to hit the Suryan were not deflected, and turned the man into an expanding cloud of steam that burned into the flesh of those around him.  Screams of pain and surprise came from those so burned, and no one else raised a weapon at the newcomers.

Watcher raised his particle beam cannon, which he was sure would blast through the protection of the officer.  At the same time he tried to sweep Pandora behind him.

“If you fire we will vaporize the woman,” said the officer, his own weapon pointed at Pandora.

“What do you want of me?” asked Watcher, lowering the barrel of his cannon.

“Remove yourself from that suit and come with us,” said the man, keeping his barrel firm on Pandora.

“Don’t do it, baby,” said Pandi, trying to get around the arm he was holding her with.  “Don’t go with those bastards.  They’ve already found you guilty.”

“I can’t see you be destroyed,” he said, at the same time contacting her link to link.  [Come after me, as I came after you.  I know it is only yourself, but I know you will find a way.  The Donut will give you the means, if you follow our plan to the next logical step.]

With a thought Watcher opened his armored suit and stepped out.  One of the men came up to him while others kept him covered with their weapons.  The man placed magnetic cuffs on the wrists of the superman and made sure that they were set.  “Do not try to escape,” said the officer in charge, his weapon now pointed at Watcher.  “Remember, we can come back here and destroy this fleet, and the woman with it.  Now come along.”

Watcher took one last look at Pandora as he was being led down the hall, wondering if he would ever see her again.  Maybe I’m paying the price for my past crimes that I am supposed to pay, he thought as they led him into another corridor and toward their shuttle.  This could be Karma.  Keep the faith, Pandora.  Remake the Galaxy, the way we have spoken of, whether I am with you or not.

*     *     *

Pandora felt the burning in her eyes as the tears rolled down her cheeks, watching the man she loved being led away like a common criminal.  But it wasn’t him, she thought.  Not really.  Can’t they see that?  She shook her head, knowing that they hadn’t.  After all the craziness she had seen in this Galaxy, she was sure it wouldn’t matter to a people who had already made up their minds.

“We need to get back under cover, my Lady,” said the young Commander in charge of the Suryans.  “The Nation Marines are starting to press again.”

“Maybe we should just surrender,” said Pandora, looking into the eyes of the young woman, her hopeless feelings controlling her thoughts.  “All of this is for nothing.”

“I know my people are not going to surrender again,” said the Suryan, glaring down the corridor.  “And I know you won’t either.  Watcher is expecting you to come get him.  I know he is.  And getting captured by these fanatics is not a good start to that mission.”

“You’re right, of course,” said Pandi, wiping the tears from her face.  “Time for me to get off the pity pot.  Get me a weapon, and I’ll be right proud to fight beside you.”

The Commander smiled and led Pandora off.  But Pandi had to stop every once in a while and look down the corridor, wondering if she would ever see Watcher again.  And what she would do without him.  Change the Galaxy, that’s what, she thought.  Daddy didn’t raise no quitter, and I’m not about to start now.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The best thing about the future is that it comes one day at a time.   Abraham Lincoln

Watcher looked with interest at the shuttle as they brought him aboard.  It was very advanced, he determined, only about two hundred years or so behind the tech of the Donut.  Of course two hundred years could make a world of difference, and they were a thousand years advanced on his enemies and allies.  Pandora will find a way, he kept telling himself.  She has to.

But he also thought that he might need to make his own escape, and everything he could learn about this enemy would aid in that plan.  He doubted there was anything in their tech base that he couldn’t figure out, couldn’t work as well or better than his captors.

“Don’t think you’re going to get out of this one, Monster,” said the tall Colonel, his helmet retracted and his blond stubbled head exposed to the light of the compartment.

“Why do you keep calling me that?” asked Watcher, looking levelly at the eyes of the man.  “The events you talk about happened over five thousand standard years in the past.  Why does your civilization hold onto such old hates?”

“Because we grew up in it,” said the man, leaning forward, his gauntleted hands clenching like they wanted to be around the neck of the superman.  “Because we were taught in history class about how you had destroyed the civilization of the ancestors, and sent the Galaxy into a new dark age.  Because it is our destiny to restore that civilization, and you, as the symbol of its destruction, must be destroyed,”

And I’m dealing with a new set of fanatics, thought Watcher, looking in the hate distorted face of the man, recognizing madness.  Maybe not the ones I would like to be in charge of the new civilization, but looking at their hardware I might not have a choice.  Unless Pandora can come through.

Watcher sat back in his seat as the shuttle pulled away from the Nation battleship, living up to his name as he observed everything around him, waiting for his chance.

*     *     *

Pandora aimed the hyper-v launcher and let go the missile.  It took off like a streak of light, hitting the Nation Marine in the chest and blasting his suit and body away in a cloud of red.  She ducked as another Marine took her under fire, then back flipped out of the line of sight.  Without her suit she did not have the strength or protection she possessed with it.  But her enhanced speed and agility actually allowed her to maneuver much more quickly.  As long as I don’t come between a round and what it would have hit, she thought, reaching down for the last hyper-v launcher of the half dozen she had brought out here.

“We’re being squeezed, Pandi,” said the voice of the Suryan Commander.  Pandi smiled at the voice.  It had only taken a dozen tries to get the woman to stop calling her My Lady, or other names she really didn’t feel fit her.

“How bad?” she asked over the com that was linked into her implants.

“Really bad,” returned the woman.  “I give them maybe another five minutes till they break through the sternward corridor.  And we have a lot of wounded here that need attention, fast.”

“Still want to fight to the end?” she asked, almost afraid of the answer.

“Of course,” answered the woman over the sound of an explosion.  “Of course.  I think capture by these fanatics is definitely a fate worse than death.”

“Good,” replied Pandi, looking around the corner then ducking back with a blurring motion as shots cracked past her ear.  “Then that’s just what we’ll do.  Been nice knowing you.”

“As well,” answered the officer, then a series of shots and explosions rocked the link.  “My Gods,” said the woman in an excited voice.  “My Gods.”

“What?” asked Pandora, wondering could have elicited that reaction in the middle of a battle they were already losing.

“I don’t believe it,” said the woman.  “I can’t believe what I’m seeing.”

Pandora shook her head, wondering what was going on and not getting an answer.  The firing and yelling to her front alerted her that something was happening there as well, and she prepared herself for the worst, getting the last missile ready to fire.  She prepared, then moved around the corner, the launcher ready to go.  She dropped the weapon as a sight she hadn’t expected met her eyes.

*     *     *

“I’m glad to see them go,” said Admiral Miklas Gerasi, watching as the enemy ships opened their holes into the hyper-dimensions and left.  The red space flecked with black dots was visible for a moment, then the holes closed up, and there was only the field of stars that inhabited normal space on the viewer.

“But they took the Abomination with them,” said the Tactical Officer, looking back at his Admiral.

“And they can have him,” said the Admiral, grimacing.  “I’m sure he will fare just as poorly from their gentle mercies as he would from ours.  So good riddance.”

“And what about the woman?”

“I want her captured alive, if possible,” said the Admiral, still wanting to see her dead, but realizing that now they needed her to gain them control of the station.  She’s the only one that can gain us access to that place now.  And we need that tech now more than ever, with competitors like this New Galactic Empire out there.

“Admiral,” called the Security Chief, a voice the officer really didn’t want to hear.  “We have a situation in the stern.”

I really hate that term, situation, thought the Admiral as he frowned.  It never means something good.  And he soon found out it didn’t this time either.

*     *     *

Three of the large suits were walking her way, one stepping over the bodies of the Nation Marines they had blasted through.  The suits had a familiar look, and it didn’t take Pandora more than a moment to realize that they were Ancient technology, same as the suits that were found on the Donut.  Watcher had modified his and her suits, brought them up to an even more modern spec.  But those Ancient suits were still much more advanced than anything the Nation had.  Or those of the New Galactic Empire.

The lead suit retracted her helmet, and Pandora found herself looking into the face of Lt. Commander Dasha Mandrake.  The woman smiled at her and gave a short bow.  “Sorry we were so late.”

“It’s always good to see the cavalry has arrived,” said Pandora, returning the smile.  “Even if it waits till the nick of time.”

The Commander’s face went blank for a moment, the sign of going into link, then she returned to normal and looked at Pandora.  “We’ve taken the ship.  And we should be well on our way to taking the others by now, since most of their Marines were over here, or planetside.”

“You know they took Watcher,” said Pandi, looking down at her feet.  “The newcomers I mean.”

“We monitored that on the base screen, yes,” said the Commander, throwing an abbreviated salute to the Commander who had led the battle up on the ship.  “I wanted to fire on them, but the Admiral wouldn’t have it until we had more information.”

“Well, they took him, and I’ve got to find out how to get him back,” said Pandora, her eyes brimming with tears.  “And I don’t know how I’m going to do that by myself.”

“Then you won’t have to do it by yourself,” said the Admiral, stepping up in his own suit of high tech armor.  “You will have the help of the Kingdom of Surya, no matter how you plan to go about it.”

“You don’t have to do that,” said Pandi, wishing she hadn’t let those words leave her mouth as soon as they had.  She needed help, and didn’t know where else she might get it.

“Yes,” said the Admiral with a smile, “we do.  We are allies.  And what kind of allies would we be if we didn’t come to your aid?”

And you will get lots of new tech to play with, thought Pandora as she smiled back.  Well, so what.  We need someone we can depend on as we try to remake the Galaxy, and we need to help you defeat those damned fanatics too.  So why not bring your kingdom up to the modern age first?  I could think of much worse people to do that with.  Actually, a couple of peoples.

“I accept,” said Pandora, sticking out her hand and letting the Admiral grip it in his gauntleted paw.  “As soon as we secure these ships we’ll go about getting you and your people up to speed, and get these others equipped.”

“And then?” asked the Admiral, raising an eyebrow.

“And then we take the station back,” she said with a cold glare.  “And we get some ships under us that can compete with these new boys.”

Epilogue

“Time for another one?” asked Watcher as the cell door slid open.  They had been trying to wear him down, blaring noise and light while it was sleeping time, depriving him of meals, and constant questioning with painful stimulus.  And they’ve gotten nowhere, he thought with a smile on his face.

Watcher did not require much in the way of sleep.  He could go a week without, and only needed a couple of hours every twenty-four at most.  He could sleep and dream if he liked, but it was not a necessity.  And painful stimulus was not really any better, since he could short circuit his pain transmission pathways at will, though he tried to show enough discomfort so they wouldn’t know that.  They had to think he was tough though, taking electrical shocks that would cause any other being to scream its lungs out.

“It would go so much easier on you if you would just tell us what we need,” said the interrogator, a tough looking man who had the rank of Senior Chief on this vessel, The Implacable, the flagship of the force.

“Tell you how to access the station,” said Watcher with a laugh.  “That seems to be all you would be conquerors want nowadays.  While hiding behind a mission of justice.”

“Shut up, you,” said one of the battle armor suited guards.  “It is justice, to drag your sorry ass back to home so everyone can see you break, beg and die.”

Watcher looked over at the man, remembering the one attempt he had made to break free of these people.  That had resulted in all of his guards being in full armor.  He could not hurt them with his hands or feet when they were so equipped, and the three he had sent to the morgue had made the point clear that they wanted that kind of protection when dealing with the superman.

“Still traveling at Hyper VII, huh?” said Watcher, glancing over at one of the guards and using a tone that made the man think he was a primitive.

“That’s the fastest anyone can go,” said the man in an aggrieved tone.

“Shut up, Janakowski,” barked the Chief, glaring at the trooper.  “Slick,” he said, looking over at Watcher.  “I think I’ll give you an extra couple of jolts for that.”

So VII is as fast as they can go, thought Watcher, knowing his own ships could get up to VIII, four times the pseudospeed of VII.  That’s good to know.  Very good.  And Pandora might be able to catch them before they get to their home.  It depends on how far away from the Supersytem their home is, and of that I have no idea.  But it was still a ray of hope that he could grab hold of.

The door to the interrogation room opened, and the shark like gazes of the people waiting there sent a small chill up Watcher’s spine.  He composed himself and walked over to the chair, his stride almost eager.  He knew these people wouldn’t break him.  He had been designed to be the ultimate soldier, and such a soldier never gave out important information to an enemy, no matter what.

*     *     *

Pandora looked over the line of prisoners being led to the Nation’s assault shuttles for a trip up to orbit, where they would become prisoners aboard their own ships.  Those vessels had their Alcubierre drives disassembled and thrown into the atmosphere to burn up.  The ships were now what in an earlier age would have been called prison hulks, unarmed and incapable of movement.  The perfect place to put people you didn’t want to have to deal with, without having to kill them.

“You still think it’s a good idea to leave them alone up there?” asked Admiral Krishnamurta, looking up at the taller woman.

She smiled down at the Admiral, who was a bigger man in his battle armor.  Of course, she was also wearing armor proportionate to her size.  “I don’t think they’ll be doing anything with those ships other than eating and breathing,” she replied.  “And we only have a hundred and fifty-three armored bodies as it is, until we get some suits for the Maurid volunteers.  And more of your people here.”

“We could always kill them,” said the Admiral, who then winced at her glare.  “I know.  You will not countenance murder, even after what they did to you.  You are a better human than I am, Pandora Latham.”

“I don’t know about that, Admiral,” she replied, looking up at the sky, knowing that everything she held dear in this Galaxy was beyond her sight.  She looked back at the man.  “I don’t want any more blood on my hands.  But if I’m going to get Watcher’s butt outa the crack it’s in, I guess I’m going to have to.”

“And what are you going to do after we kick the Nation Marines off the Donut?” asked the Admiral.

“Then we get some ships, and go on a little Odyssey of our own,” she replied with a feral smile.  “I’ll either have Watcher back, or that damned New Galactic Empire will experience a fall they are not ready for.”

The End

About the Author

Doug Dandridge is an ex-professional student with degrees from Florida State University and The University of Alabama, and coursework in Psychology, Biology, Geology, Physics, Chemistry, Anthropology and Nursing.  Doug has interest in all of the fantastic, including science fiction, fantasy and horror, as well as all eras of military history.  Doug is a prolific writer, having completed 25 novel length manuscripts.  He is still seeking a major publishing contract, but has decided that self- publishing is the way to go at this time.  His work can be found on Amazon and Smashwords, as well as his own website.  Doug lives with his five cats in Tallahassee, Florida, and currently has no social life, as he is too busy writing around his work schedule.

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Excerpt from Deeper and Darker

The station, or at least the part of the station that was being used, was crowded with sentient beings for the first time in five thousand years.  A wormhole had been installed in the home system of the Suryans, and tens of thousands of personnel now swarmed the walkways and corridors.  The great majority were undergoing training, as were the couple of thousand Maurids and Hustedeans who were being bootstrapped up to the modern age.

Almost too many of them, thought Pandora, returning the bow of the kangaroo like Hustedean who was passing her in the corridor.  She remembered the first sight of one of those particular aliens, on the Hernand, the ship that had traveled into the past and had been responsible for her going into the future, while the rest of her crew died a death of complete annihilation.  These on the station were somewhat more mobile, and she had welcomed them aboard, even if the sight of them brought back the memories.

That had been one of her first decisions after mandating that the Suryans would be running things.  She did not want to establish a human hegemony over the other species.  So she had ruled that as many alien races as possible should join in the mission, as well as humans from many different worlds.  It was not hers or Watcher’s plan to create a human dominated Galaxy, based on one culture and religion.  The Galaxy was to be as it had been, a polyglot people of many species, cultures and faiths.

Pandora came out of the corridor and into the long gate room, in which three of the active gates were in use, one to the Suryan home world, two others to the worlds the Suryans and Nation of Humanity people had claimed for their own.  Technicians were leaving the gate from the Suryan home world, while other technicians, and men and women who could be classified as missionaries, were going to those more primitive worlds.  Pandi smiled as she thought of the missionaries, with Marine guards of course, going to that medieval world she had visited, and telling the kings and dukes the new score.

So many, she thought again, looking at the Suryan Marine guards that were securing this room, knowing that several other gate rooms were also secured.  The combat robots of course were also here, and the Suryans thought that they now had total control of the machines, which was one of her little tests of them.  So far they had passed, and she was sure they didn’t know she could order a million robots to come to her aid if necessary.  They may have guessed it, but they didn’t know.  She had her own failsafes built in to make sure the station wasn’t taken from her and Watcher, safeguards she had decided on after the Nation Marines had invaded the station.

“Niven is ready to go,” said Captain Dasha Mandrake, the Flag Captain of the flagship of Pandora’s squadron.

“How about Vengeance and Avenger?” asked the woman from the past, naming the two other vessels in the squadron.  She thought the first name was best for her flag, the name of her Kuiper Belt miner that had been her home in the twenty-first century, before the paradox that was a ship from the future destroyed it.  The other two ships just suited her personality, and had been the names of two of the vessels she had used since coming to the four hundred and eightieth century.  But sometimes I wonder about the luck of naming all my vessels after ships that fell to pieces around me.  She shrugged while she looked at the woman who would be her right hand officer.”

“They should be ready in another eighteen hours, according to their Captains,” said the woman who would also be the second in command of the flotilla.  “They’re still trying to fill a couple of crew slots, especially since you insisted on some aliens for those spots.”

“Yes,” said Pandora, thinking about what she had ordered.  “I do.  I don’t want this to be a human only venture.”

“But we have the compliment of robots,” said the Captain, shaking her head.  “Enough combat robots to invade a small world, beside the maintenance bots.”

“I want sentients aboard my ships,” said Pandora, shaking her head yet again.  “Robots are fine, but I want the command and control functions controlled by sentients.  And five thousand years is enough time for these sentients to be living in low tech squalor.  They deserve a better future, and that future is now.  That’s what I want, and that’s what Watcher wanted.”

Pandora felt a little guilty invoking Watcher’s name for everything, but it worked to get the point across without argument.  He had attained the status of a demigod to these people.  While they revered her, they worshipped the space he occupied.  And she knew he would have wanted this.  God knew he had enough guilt as it was, without letting the peoples of the Galaxy die from things that high tech could prevent.  And here I am about to lead sentients beings into a crusade that might kills thousands, millions, maybe a lot more.  And I justify it because it will be for the benefit of the Galaxy as a whole.  But not to the poor slobs who have to do the dying.

“The Admiral still thinks you should wait until we can get you a proper fleet,” said the Captain, looking levelly into Pandora’s eyes.  “He believes, as do I, that we might find ourselves up against more than we can handle, depending on the size of this empire.”

“And every moment I waste could bring Watcher closer to death,” said Pandora, her face reddening as the rage rose within her.  “I am not going to waste a minute I don’t have too.  Unless you and your people want to bail?”

“I would not think of it,” said the young woman, her own voice rising in anger.  “We are not cowards, to back out on our pledge.  You insult us by even suggesting such.”

Pandora stood there for a moment, closing her eyes and shaking her head, forcing calm back upon herself.  She opened her eyes and smiled.  “I am very sorry to have insinuated that you and your people would not be loyal.  I feel so much stress right now, more than I felt when those fanatics had their hands on me.  I did not mean to attack you personally.”

“Apology accepted,” said Mandrake, her own frown turning into a smile.  “Now the Admiral would like to talk to you at your earliest convenience.”

“Of course.  I guess I might find it convenient by sometime tomorrow,” said Pandora with a wink, and the other woman laughed.  Pandi knew that the Suryans jumped to the beck and call of their superiors.  But none of them were her superiors in any way.

The Captain saluted and turned away, still smiling, and Pandora headed for the Admiral’s officer off the concourse between gate rooms.  The man had chosen an office that had belonged to a high level executive, five thousand years in the past.  It probably would have suited the king on his nation, but Pandora thought it perfect for the military commander of the station.

Pandi put her hand to the door and the portal lit up, letting her know that her signal had been received.  The door slid open and revealed a good looking young Ensign manning a desk.  The woman smiled at Pandora, whose appearance everyone in the Suryan contingent knew by heart.  Pandi looked around the room for a moment then back at the dark skinned young officer.

The Suryan system, consisting of a quartet of terraformed moons around a gas giant, had originally been settled by people whose ancestors hailed from the subcontinent of India.  Of course in the old Empire there were no places that claimed one hundred percent pure race.  But the distinctive look of the Indian people was still apparent in the Suryans.

“The Admiral is expecting you, ma’am,” said the officer with a smile, her eyes unfocusing for a moment as she went into link.  Pandora smiled back, remembering that they had wanted to pin some kind of label on her like High Admiral or Archduchess, which she had resisted to the last argument.

“Thank you,” said Pandi, heading for the door on the side of the opulent looking reception room.  That door opened as she approached and she walked into the even more luxurious main office.  The room was large, of course, twenty by twenty meters, with a desk that seemed to swallow up its small occupant.  Rugs of rich fabrics were on the floors, tapestries and painting of rare artistry were on the walls, and every fixture was chased in gold or platinum, and set with jewels.

“I’m so glad you could come, Ms. Latham,” said the Admiral, waving her toward a seat.

“Always happy to oblige, Admiral,” said Pandi, plopping into the comfortable seat that seemed to enfold her body in a warm massage.  She sighed in pleasure.  “The ancestors sure were a hedonistic bunch.”

“That they were,” said the Admiral with a laugh.

Books by Doug Dandridge

Science Fiction

The Deep Dark Well Trilogy

The Deep Dark Well:  An Adventure 40,000 years in the making.  Pandora Latham was a Kuiper Belt Miner from Alabama.  She’s used to landing on her feet, even when the next surface is through a wormhole, halfway across the Galaxy and 46,000 years in the Future.  Pandora must discover the secret behind the end of civilization, and the enigma of the Immortal Watcher, the last survivor of the Empire that once ruled the stars.  Her decisions will set the path for Galactic recovery, or a continuation down the roads of Barbarism.

To Well and Back:  Pandora Latham is back, working Watcher’s plan to restore Galactic Civilization.  But first she has to deal with the Xenophobes of the Nation of Humanity, back in the Supersystem with their sights set on making the Galaxy their own.  Pandora is angry at the hyper religious Nation, and you don’t want to make a woman from Alabama angry.

The Exodus Series

Exodus: Empires at War: Book 1:  The introduction to the Exodus Universe.  Two thousand years prior mankind fled from the Predatory Ca’cadasans, traveling a thousand years and ten thousand light years to a new home.  Now the greatest power of their sector of space, things seem to be going well for the New Terran Empire.  Until the enemy appears once again at the gates.  And the years have not softened the aliens’ stance toward Humanity.

Exodus: Empires at War: Book 2:  The saga continues.  The Ca’cadasans attack at the moment when the government of the Empire is at its most chaotic.  There are other enemies as well, waiting for their chance to fall on the overwhelmed humans.  And a young man with no ambition for power finds himself in the position he most dreads.

Other Scifi

Diamonds in the Sand:  When a perfectly healthy scientist falls dead of an apparent heart attack, it is up to Sarasota Police Detective Lieutenant Gary Lariviere to find out what really happened.  The scientist was working on Nanotechnology, a secret desired by everyone from the Government to the Mob.  There are too many suspects, including the woman that Gary comes to love.  The Army had made Gary better than human, but had they prepared him for the terrors that had been unleashed by the new technology?

The Scorpion:  The Scorpion had been the world’s deadliest living terrorist.  Kestral McMann had been in on the kill.  Now The Scorpion is back as a mind upload, using clones to penetrate the tight security of an isolationist United States.  McMann is the only man who can stop him.  But can McMann survive the threat of his own side, and the insane President who leads the Nation, in time to stop The Scorpion from plunging the Great Satan back into the Stone Age.

The Shadows of the Multiverse:  Something has been periodically wiping intelligence from our Universe through the ages.  It’s back, and it’s up to three unlikely heroes, the Captain of a Battle Cruiser, a Physicist turned Archeologist, and a Child, to save the intelligence of the Universe from Monsters from another Dimension.  Can they learn to use the powers of their unusual Quantum Minds to defeat creatures that have been playing the game for billions of years?

Afterlife:  What if you didn’t believe in the afterlife of the World’s Religions?  And what if science offered you the alternative, survival within the Virtual World of a computer, where your mental abilities are magnified and you can do anything you want?  And what if the World decided that your way was wrong, and declared war on you, meaning to destroy your reality?  What would you do?  Afterlife, a tale of survival at all costs.

Fantasy

The Refuge Series

Refuge: The Arrival: Book 1:  A nuclear war in Central Europe opens the gates between dimensions, sending millions of Earth Humans into a land of myth, archetypes and fantasy.  The Evil Emperor of the Ellala Elves sees the humans as energy to fuel his transformation to immortality.  But the humans have brought their own weapons with them, as well as a race of Demigods who will battle the fantastic armies of Refuge.  The war is on, and only one side will ultimately survive.

Refuge: The Arrival: Book 2:  The Ellala have a plan to destroy the human military and capture the civilians.  And the humans find that their weapons will soon cease to function.  So it’s use it or lose it for the Earth Humans, and they use it with a vengeance.  Tanks against Mages, Attack Helicopters against Dragons, and Nuclear Weapons against Death Gods.  And the other peoples of the planet come forth as allies to the humans that they see as the fulfillment an Ancient Prophecy.  But will it be enough?

Refuge: Doppelganger: Set thousands of years after the arrival, Kurt von Mannerheim, the Immortal Emperor of the Imperium of Free Nations, must give up everything to save his Empress, the Elfin Princess Gwenara Elysius von Mannerheim.  The world is at a crisis point as the Evil Tarakesh Empire, under its Immortal Emperor Heinrich Stuppleheim, prepares to overrun the world with its Nazi Ideology.  And Kurt must face a creature of legend that may prove too much for even his physical and mental abilities.

Other Fantasy

The Hunger:  Abused wife, drug addict, prostitute; Lucinda Taylor had been victimized by men all her adult life.  Left for dead by her pimp, Lucinda was turned by a passing vampire.  When he is destroyed she becomes a free agent, slaking her hunger for blood on the bottom dwellers of society, the type of men who once victimized her.  The crime boss of Tampa is her next target, and the City by the Bay is about to become a bloodbath.  But can Lucinda avoid those who are hunting for her; the Priest, the FBI man, and a pair of Vampires who would like nothing better than to send one Avenging Vampire forever into the dark?

Daemon:  A Steampunk Fantasy.  The world is dying, the victim of the magic used by society for the last three hundred years.  Daemon Corporation thinks they have the answer, stealing the life from other worlds, bringing from other dimensions the intelligences that inhabit them for sacrifice on Earth.  But something has come with them, a force that is killing the employees of Daemon Corp.  It is up to Forensic Mage Detective Jude Parkinson to find a way to stop the unstoppable, while keeping the head of Daemon Corp from silencing him to keep the dark secrets of the company out of the public eye.

Aura:  Triplets are born on a world where the magical Aura decides the fate of its owner.  Ariel is a girl with more than double the normal Aura, destined to become a mighty Priest or Mage.  Aiden has a less than normal Aura, and is destined to be a soldier or laborer.  While Arlen has no Aura at all, and is seen as an abomination in the eyes of the Church of Baalra the Dragon God, which has no power over those with Negative Auras.  Fate will rip the siblings apart, then bring them back together as they battle to defeat the Dragon God and leave the Evil Empire, before Ariel is taken as the Avatar of Baalra, his mortal vessel on Earth.

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Table of Contents

- Books by Doug Dandridge
- Dedication
- Copyright
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Chapter Twenty-Three
- Chapter Twenty-Four
- Chapter Twenty-Five
- Chapter Twenty-Six
- Chapter Twenty-Seven
- Chapter Twenty-Eight
- Epilogue
- About the Author
- Excerpt from Deeper and Darker
- Books by Doug Dandridge