The Black

A single ship dropped out of subspace into the Thermian home system, it was largely ignored as its transponder reported the vessel as part of the Home Guard responsible for the security of the home system. Its fresh hull paint hid the slap-dash of patchwork repairs as it slid smoothly into orbit above the home-world. A single shuttle launched from the home-world burning for the black as it synchronized its orbit and entered the docking evolution on the bigger ships port side airlocks.

Kar stood erect as the airlock cycled, the being next to him stood in his own people’s uniform. Small clicks and thumps heralded the docking procedure’s completion as the hiss of air accompanied the other sounds as the shuttle’s occupants cycled into the larger ship’s atmosphere. The doors opened and a Mountain of a Thermian stomped in.

Kar snapped a salute, slamming his breastplate with his fist before bowing his head as the head of the Thermian species eyed up the two of them. He was not an old male, as Thermians did not elect leaders. There was leadership through violence and cunning. Hissari Wuarik’s armor was still stained by the blood of a challenger dispatched just this morning as he stepped forward nodding his approval.

Kar stood at attention once more, “Centarus, Representative of Vorath” he announced.

“Very good Kar, show us to the meeting room” The Hissari (roughly translated “leader, or head”) rumbled and the group turned and began down the corridor.

Centarus observed the Thermian head of state, unobtrusively sizing the gigantic lizard up. Blatantly refusing security, he was easily almost twice the mass of a normal Thermian, and the unarmored portions of his person rippled beneath his scales with the promise of violence. He reeked of death, a recent kill. ‘Maybe this species has promise.’

The group of three entered the room, again Centarus noted the lack of guards, and his respect for this species increased another increment as they sat down across from each other the Durasteel bench creaked under Centarus’ weight and the two Thermians simply settled back on their powerful tails.

“I see Kar’s description of you was accurate, I am Centarus. I lead the Vorath in this arm of the Great Cyclone. As you can see, the legends of our existence are true.”

“Indeed, it is pleasing to see your existence is proven more than a child’s fairy tale.” Wuarik’s voice was a rumbling hiss.

“Straight to the point, you contacted us, we have observed this… Unity…. For many centuries. You have been its strength for many of those centuries, why now... you have had a setback, yes, but you are in no danger.”

“Our… setback… has undone more than 300 years of progress…. We were within a generation of rending the Unity asssunder. They have grown weak.” Waurik snarled.

“They were strong enough to remove your kind from military power” Centarus observed, a hint of challenge escaped him.

“A quarter of our previous number remain. Most of them in key positions, our remnant still in “service” to the Unity had to be protected... sssacrifices were made. My agents deep inside the Unity are cogs in the machine, that hold no loyalty to it. If your legends hold true, you understand the importance of but a single cog.” The Thermian leader responded levelly, refusing to rise to the bait.

‘Good, violent and controlled… this we can work with’ Centarus then asked, “you know what we seek, what our purpose is. Why join us.”

“Because we believe the other part of the legends. We wish to become stronger, as a people. My bile rises as birds, squid, monkeys and bitch hounds rule over us by vote of mob. FOOD should not rule… we know you added to yourself by other means besides the natural. I wish my children, and their children’s children to have that power. I know we are the weaker race between the two of us. I may be able to best you personally, individual to individual, but my species has been denied the opportunity I know the Unity holds in its walking vaults…” Waurik leaned forward, “We know you lost the war, our ancestors helped defeat you, but… we have watched your enemy crumble into dust, we know only 4 remain, we know where they are, and how to expose them. We suspect your resources are… limited, at the moment. Aid us in asssending our species, and I will give you retribution, long delayed, but just as sssavory” The head of the Thermian race leaned back onto his tail, eyes boring into the Vorath in front of him.

“I see this trip has not been a waste..” Centarus bore his teeth in a predatory smile as the two Thermians matched his expression

—————————————-

Warren stirred to a soft glow invaded his slumber.

“Hey you…” a familiar voice whispered. His eyes opened as the previous night burned away the fog from his consciousness.

“Hey back…” He smiled gently down at Jezz. She had woken up before him and was watching him sleep from her spot where they fell asleep.

“Your glowing” he murmured as she shifted lay further up on his chest, “I thought…”

“We don’t just glow from that. Strong emotions, not everyday emotions, the really strong ones… trigger it too.” She smiled contentedly up at him before pulling up the last little bit to get her morning kiss, “care to guess this one?”

“Hmmm” Mac mused, idly tracing shapes into the soft downy patch between her wings. A dainty shiver ran over his Jezz as her glow pulsed brighter for a moment. “I love you too,” he whispered down at her before capturing her in his embrace. “Let’s get you to Atticus.”

“Awe, no fun.” She whimpered before relenting, climbing out of bed and heading for the shower. She had just gotten the water right when she felt a familiar pair of hands wrap around her.

“Room for two?” Warren asked before scooping her up and carrying her in with him.

—————————————

Atticus was broken from his 2-day data crunch with a chime at his door. His animatronic body had not moved, but he himself had been busy sifting through the wealth of data provided by the Grarzia’s scans. Slowly, a clearer and clearer picture was presenting itself. His musings carried him out of his office where he was met with a no longer quite glowing Jezzaria in a pair of tight fitting human style blue jeans and a Eleri cut top. She was accompanied by a Warren who had her sitting up on one of the medical beds and was standing behind her rubbing her back’s down patch as she leaned into his touch.

“Ah, I see that you two have successfully paired.” Atticus congratulated, “I assume you are here to assure nothing is amiss?”

A pained look, Warren gave Atticus before the digital ghost of Attica relented, “I am happy for both of you. Now, let’s get you checked out. Lay down please.”

Jezz settled into the bed while Atticus brought up her previous scans to compare. “Atticus?” Jezz asked, “I don’t have an older parent to ask things. And I need some answers.”

“I’m not Eleri, but I know your species, I’ll try.” Atticus nodded, and started the scan.

“Momma told me Eleri females can choose when to bear children. What happens if I choose not to, for a long time.” Jezz asked tenatively.

“I don’t follow.”

“Warren and I want a big family… but…”Jezz paused uncomfortably

“I won’t have her risking her life, not until we know how to mitigate or eliminate those risks.” Warren squared his shoulders and finished the statement.

“Ah, I see. Your Fallopian pouch is close to capacity. If you chose to not conceive at all, your body would absorb the pouches contents naturally within a few weeks. You don’t have to do anything intentional on your part.. why?” Atticus mused, still confused.

“Because Humans don’t mate as we do, humans… make love… often…. and not purely for conception….” Jezz blushed and her body flashed a slightly more purple hue as her embarrassment peaked.

“Ah, I see, let me finish the scans and I think I can give you a few answers.

Atticus spent the next half hour checking over Jezzaria health. There was minor trauma here and there, but all of it was only surface deep, and largely irrelevant. A few spikes in her blood chemistry had him double checking his finding. He finally released his patient, and they entered his office.

“The long and short of it, is that Warren did a laudable job considering your vast differences in physical durability, we will say. You are in almost perfect health Jezz. As for the…. Frequency….. of Human physical affection. Your body should begin to adjust to Warrens attention. I advise stopping if any undue pain is felt, and return to me.” Atticus paused and took an artificial breath, “I also want to see you weekly. I hate to foist this on you, but we don’t know what a cross species relationship such as yours will do to you. Jezz, you and Warren will have to pioneer the data on this. I will be as… considerate as I can… but there is missing data in my research that I fear only your relationship can provide. Three months is all I ask. I should have what I need by then.”

“Our burden is it.” Warren mused, remembering his earlier conversation with Atticus, looking down at Jezz for a moment before nodding to Atticus, “Three months.” He said formally for the both of them.

“Thank you, until next week, I give you a clean bill of health... now SHOO!! Go celebrate.” Atticus ushered them out of his laboratory before chuckling to himself as he settled back into his desk. His smile lingered on his artificial features as he dove back into the mystery before him.

————————-

Commodore James Mackenzie Grarzia stepped off the shuttle's ramp in the last place he ever thought he would travel to in peacetime. The enormous cavern carved into the side of Phobos was both the main landing site and final inspection area of the Martian Military shipyards on Phobos. This facility was one of the few places in Sol that had not been ravaged by the turmoil of the Great Sol War. Terra had long considered her one of the Crown Jewels of Mars during the conflict, but never succeeded in laying a finger on her.

The scene before him was one of abject paradox. Half a dozen ships were nearly, arrayed on either side of his landing zone, he recognized both Terran and Martian gunships, escort fighters, a shuttle and at least two of Concord's sister ships sat in various stages of disassembly and inspection. Shadows of memory flickered through his vision as he slowly walked toward the entrance corridor double doors.

The corridor was a corridor in name only. The massive sliding blast doors were currently cracked for personnel, but they could be opened wide enough to accept capital ship modules for final prep and inspection before sending them to the space side docking array for final assembly. A bald older man in an officer’s uniform greeted in just as he reached the blast doors. His balding head contained alert and confident green eyes, garnishing an exceedingly thick salt and pepper Bandholz style beard.

“Commodore Grarzia. Welcome to Phobos shipyards.”

“Good morning, Commandant, this place is impressive. I’m still in awe I am standing here…”

“Ah, Captain’d a ship during the war, son?” The old man said solemnly.

Mac chuckle held dark undertones, “captained a ship? No. I spent my war in one of those…” He pointed toward one of the TALONs being worked on, “ for 8 years.”

“The life expectancy of one of those was measured in months. forgive me, I know of almost all the crews that survived that long, I don’t recognize yours.” He raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

“You wouldn’t. I took the name Grarzia as part of the custom of marrying into a tribe of the Delmar confederation. My sir name during the conflict was Mackenzie. I admit, it is refreshing to be able to not get mobbed by “war romantics” these days.” Mac chuckled at the recognition spreading on the man’s face before it sobered.

“My brother was on the Trafalger…” he said slowly.

Mac stiffened, the strike on Trafalger was a brutal mission, 6 TALONS were sent out, only Mac and one other had returned. “My condolences… we all lost a piece of our humanity during that war… I lost my family as a teenager…they lived in Galveston.”

The Commanders nodded, not in anger, but in memory, “the old trope holds, war is hell.” Ghost’s haunted his tone for a moment before he changing the subject, “Come! let us focus on the future.”

With that, the two entered the blast door, Mac was mostly there to observe the progress of the second-generation new model USN designs as well as bring the TALON4 block2’s. The Block ones were already in service and largely done being produced. The Block2’s, however, had been early enough in development that they were going to be taking advantage of the combined Delmar/Human Tech that was coming out of the combined machinations of Captain Johansson and the Brothers Grem.

Mac settled into the cockpit of one of the prototype new model TALONs and most of the controls were in place. “Familiar, I see we will be adding deflectors and PACs? Two?”

“Yes, the third-generation power distribution systems are just being finalized. These will be the first to get a power bank system. We cannot put a large enough reactor in to power the PACs in their entirety, but we have a bank on each wing that should give the weapons systems a decent enough rate of fire for anti-capital ship roles. By putting them on them on the wingtips, unlike Concord’s nose mounted modification, we are able to double the ammunition quantity inside the forward magazine. We have several configurations that we hope to be modular for different missions. Anything from doubling the GAU34 onboard ammunition, to adding power banks for electronic warfare or a destroyer class RM1005 or PAC in an external pod.” the Commander stated.

“The block2 is big… she looks twice as big as the TALON3’s or the block1-fours.” Mac observed.

“Closer to three times the size in fact. We have an upgraded Hab system that will be able to power gravity plates and other, long duration amenities that may be necessary. The BLOCK2s will be designed to be able to be configured for missions of up to 4 years.” The commander chuckled at Mac’s unbelieving face.

“Come, I have a cut-away model in my office.” The Commander stated.

————————————

“Dropping in 3…2…1… engage!” barked Clint as First fleet dropped into their 4th response in as many weeks. Lucid Traveler continued to be given a wide berth considering her performance in her last engagement with pirates. They seemed to be too terrified of her after the recordings were “leaked” of them single-handedly taking on an entire fleet. Other Delmar ships had not been fortunate.

“Open Fire!” Wild Bill was in full regalia, six-gun belt hung on his hip and a Stetson settled proudly over his Uniforms helmet. He bore his teeth at the enemy before them, “Port Point Defense Batteries, focus on getting those fighter off of the Freighter!” he bellowed, clearly heard through the cacophony of shouted orders and callouts. Galveston bristled with wrath as her eviscerating main firepower was brought to bear on the biggest Pirate Garbage Barge They had engaged to date.

“Fuckin thing is the size of a Frigate!” One of the Delmar crew manning the PDB’s murmured. Clint chuckled at the fact that the Crewman had sworn in English before turning to his monitors. The last of the fighters quickly blipped from the scanners, signaling their demise.

“Away Boarding teams! Expect heavy resistance, watch your fire. The captain of her reports there are still pockets of resistance. As long as the Bridge holds, we will take her back!”

Two assault shuttles carrying 25 Terran and Martian Marines each catapulted away from Galveston as the Giant Barge began to break up. Pirates still hadn’t learned to depressurize for combat, and the escaping gas finished the job that Galveston’s main guns had started.

“Captain, the Target’s, core is heating up. Suspect Critical failure in 45 seconds.” The call was barely heard above the din, but it was heard.

“Helm, hard a Port- 288 mark119. Put us between the Barge and the Freighter. Starboard Point Defense, up your scans. You are on shrapnel duty. All Hands Brace!”

USN Galveston’s main drives bellowed through the bones of her frame as they heaved the Ship of the Line forward as she came about, crossing the T of the Delmar Freighter and presenting her starboard side deflectors and point defense toward the stricken barge as its Fusion Core’s detonated, superheating the atmosphere still inside the rusting monstrosity and shattering the Vessel from the inside. GAU34 bellowed and laser emitters began to glow from the heat of constant fire as they fought to render the larger chunks of the barge into small enough pieces to be taken care of by the shields. They almost succeeded.

Wild Bill was driven to one knee as the largest chunk of their prey slammed into his Starboard broadside shields “Damage Report!” He bellowed.

“Shield held, but we are venting coolant on decks four, six, and nine! Damage control in route.” A crewman yelled back.

“Signal, our escorts. Security Peremeter Pattern Mike one niner. Update on our shuttles.” Clint Barked.

“Shuttles made it before the blast” came the response from the Sensor station.

The Com’s crewman spoke up next, “Captain Collins reports the landing zone secure and they are moving in toward the survivors. A... First Officer Grarzia is signaling from the bridge. Quote “We are Holding, just.””

“Fuck…” Clint swore Vilely. Celestial Traveler was in a slow listless roll to port, her main Drives heavily damaged and inoperative. This was not the reason for Clints reaction.

“Admiral?” Bill noticed and stepped over.

“Mac’s wife, her family name is Grarzia…” Clint stated flicking to a private channel between them.

“Shit… Captain Collins was on the team that took the Vorath ship. He’ll get it done...” Bill clamped his old friend on the shoulder before switching back to the main intercom channel for the bridge,

“Com’s Signal Collins, Primary target alpha is the bridge, Possible Broken Arrow. Repeat, possible Broken Arrow on the bridge.”