War Angel: part seventy-eight

“Okay, so we get onboard and spread the bug. Then what? No way we can manufacture enough to take out the entire ship quickly.”

“You’re right, Richard, but we don’t have to. We just have to get it to strategic spots. The bridge. The infirmary. The kitchen. We just need to get the ball rolling so we can escape.” Jack smiled. “If we’re to have any chance of saving the damn planet, we have to knock that ship out.”

“Sure, I think we all get that,” Gina chimed in. “But how? Even if we kill everyone on that ship, the Omegans will just crew it with others. And then they’ll probably open fire on Earth with it.”

“No question,” Jack replied, “We have to destroy that ship. Completely.”

“Once again, I hate to be a killjoy, but even as good as our weapons are, they won’t make a dent in the RGC, Jack. That hull is just too strong. It’ll take something a lot stronger than what we have to break it.”

The War Angel’s captain let out a laugh. “Oh, I know. But there is a weak spot that we can exploit. It won’t be easy, and the risk is completely ludicrous. On the bright side, they will be completely unprepared for it.” He wiped his hand across his brow, moving sweat away from his eyes. “How many of you read The Odyssey in Classic Lit class?”

Kate could hear the brutal sound of weapons fire from ahead. She stopped running, slowing her pace to a jog, and began checking her corners with more caution. It would not do to get shot now. The doctor needed rescuing.

As did the Drakes.

It had been a kindness for Sarah to not mention Ben when sending her off, but deep down, she knew that he could be just as vital as the doctor. Personal feelings aside, he did know his way around the comm. equipment like no one else on the ship. Plus, this was war, and in war, every soldier was necessary. With such a small crew on the War Angel, every person counted. Even a man she hated. Even a man she tried to kill with her bare hands.

She peered around the next corner and discovered the nearest source of gunfire. Four Omegan warriors were at the next bend, using the branching of the corridor to give themselves cover. Fortunately for Kate, their absolute focus was on her shipmates. Unfortunately for Kate, there was no cover for her once she started moving in their direction. She closed her eyes and played out various scenarios in her head before deciding on a plan of action.

Then she took off at a full sprint towards the Omegans.

Halfway to their position, one of the warriors caught a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye. As he turned and bellowed, Kate threw her legs out forward and went into a slide. Gliding across the floor, she opened fire before the Omegans could completely turn around and aim their guns at her. With guns in both hands, she pulled the trigger relentlessly, watching blast after blast tear through the enemy. By the time she came to a stop, the four warriors were dead, their blood forming small pools on the deck.

Popping up off the floor, she peered around the corner the warriors had been defending, and she saw the junction where Dr. Gray and the Drakes were trapped. She could also see the far end of that corridor, and could see more Omegan warriors were entrenched there. Her mind went into analytical mode. “Maybe 30 meters to their alcove. Call it twelve to thirteen seconds for them to make it here. Cover fire from me maybe buys them eight seconds at most. Not good,” she thought.

Not good at all.

“Hime to Clover, do you read?”

The comm. crackled. “This is Clover, I read.”

“How’s my girl? Ready to fly home?”

“Scoop re-attachment almost complete. Three minutes, Hime.”

“Clover, it looked from the outside like cannon three is back in place. Is it online?”

There was a short silence, and then he responded. “I think so. Haven’t had a chance to test it, though.”

Gina cocked her head and closed her eyes. “Seems like this would be a good time. Free to go weapons hot?”

“Umm… okay.”

“Are you within the shields perimeter, Clover?”

“I am. Why?”

Gina activated the War Angel’s shields. “Because there’s a great big sitting duck sitting across the docking bay,” she replied, looking at the ship Richard had attached himself to in order to get inside the Kan’Tar. She swiveled around to Sarah, who was standing at the weapons station. Sarah punched up the targeting system and picked six points on the B-class cruiser and plugged them in. She then took a long, deep breath and fired cannon three.

The now repaired cannon exploded with raw firepower, sending massive energy beams across the Kan’Tar’s docking bay and into the ghost ship. The bolts tore massive holes in the Omegan cruiser’s hull, rocking it with explosions. Fireballs and debris rained down across the landing bay, and Richard could only watch in horrified awe as the War Angel’s shields bounced pieces of the craft away, harmlessly. Just as he thought it was done, the engine block exploded as well, sending a shockwave powerful enough that he felt it through the shields.

“Spot on, Clover,” Gina’s voice echoed through the comm. You may have just saved us all.”

M’isti moved toward the door and activated a comm. “T’reen, report!” A second shockwave, more powerful than the first, rattled the room. “T’reen! Bridge! Report!”

“They… probably need you… on the bridge…” Jack said, slowly sitting up.

The Omegan Supreme Commander wheeled around, his eyes full of righteous fury. “Whatever you have done, boy…”

Jack pressed his back against the wall and took a breath. He wiped blood out of his eyes, and spit some out of his mouth. “I’ll tell you exactly what I’ve done, F’ath.” He exhaled slowly. “I’ve beaten you.” Jack steadied himself. “You ever read any Earth literature? Don’t answer, I’m sure you probably haven’t. Well…” he coughed, “there was an old poet named Homer, and he wrote this thing called The Odyssey. Great book.”

M’isti looked at him, angry and impatient. Blood began to flow out of his nose at a faster pace, and he felt his knees weakening. Suddenly, he knew what he had been denying since the symptoms had begun: he truly was going to die. And with that knowledge, his anger began to fade. Keys would die with him, of course, and the circle that had opened over a hundred of Earth’s years ago would finally close. It was, as he slumped against the door, poetic. “All right, Captain. I am listening, and neither of us is going anywhere. Tell me how.”

Jack held up his hand in a “stop” motion. “There was also a writer named H.G. Wells, wrote probably our most famous novel about Earth being invaded by aliens. Know how we won in that story? The bad guys got sick from our planet’s germs and bacteria.” He shrugged. “Sometimes the classics just work.”

F’ath M’isti’s limbs weakened, and he eased himself to the floor, sitting next to the door. “How does this Homer fit in?” he asked, weariness creeping into his voice.

“Oh!” Jack looked surprised. “Right! There’s an incident mentioned in The Odyssey called ‘The Trojan Horse’…”

War Angel: part seventy-seven

“I hate to be the killjoy,” Wilma interrupted, “but there is no way we can manufacture enough of the bug to kill everyone on that ship. Not in the timeframe we have. A small ship, maybe. But not that one.”

“True,” Jack agreed. “But we don’t need it to kill everyone on that ship. We just need to get the ball rolling so we can put phase two into action.”

“Phase two?”

Gina, Sarah, and Kate walked through the carnage created by the makeshift grenade. Omegan body parts were strewn through the corridor, and blood spatter coated the nearby walls. “Nicely effective, Sarah,” Kate said, admiring her aim. She picked up two more guns and checked them over. They had nearly full charges.

“I’ll try and remember that when I’m vomiting later,” Sarah replied. She winced and worked to keep her gag reflex from kicking in. It was one thing to shoot at a ship from a distance, but seeing this much gore and death up close was at the limit of what she could bear. Was this what their lives were going to look like from now on? “I don’t know if I can keep doing this,” she thought. “I don’t want to be this person. I don’t want any of us to be this person.”

They turned down another corridor, and fifty meters ahead, they found what they were looking for: the entrance to the landing bay. “Well, here we are,” Gina offered. “What’s behind door number one? A massive amount of killer aliens, or a massive number of dead aliens and our ship back in working condition?” She smiled at the other two and reached for the control panel next to the door. “Shall I?” Kate raised her weapons and nodded, standing in front of the door, while Sarah moved to the other side. Gina pushed the button, and it slid open.

A dead Omegan warrior slumped across the doorway. Kate cautiously moved forward, looking for signs of movement. Gina and Sarah watched her move through the doorway, and then she ducked her head back through. “Clear. Better than clear, actually.”

The three of them walked into the bay and saw a beautiful sight: the War Angel was hovering above the deck, her engines running. Floating along the top of the engine capsules was the shuttle, and it was busy re-attaching the tachyon scoop to the ship.

“Incredible,” Gina whispered. “He actually made it.”

“Let’s get onboard,” Sarah said, slapping Gina on the shoulder. “Let’s sure she’s ready for you to fly us out of here.”

Kate grinned. “Looking at the port side, it looks like Richard has made my part in this a little more fun, too. Let’s go!” As they entered the landing bay, a nearby comm. port chirped. They stared at one another for a moment, and then it chirped again. Kate toggled the switch. “This is F.A. Go ahead.”

The line crackled with static for a moment, and then Wilma’s voice came through. “F.A? Kate? Yes! Kate, we’re trapped! They have us pinned down in a corridor not too far from the infirmary. We managed to get our hands on a weapon, but it’s almost out of power. And our supply of the bug is spent. Can you assist?”

Kate looked at the other two. A moment of silence passed between them, and then Kate gave a slight nod. She flicked the comm. switch. “Doctor, hang tight. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

The comm. closed, and she turned back to face Gina and Sarah. “Whatever you’re going to say, I’m already thinking it. But I have to go anyway.” She walked across the bay and opened a weapons locker, withdrawing two more guns. “Now I have four. That should get me through to the doctor and the Drakes.” She detached a portable unit from the comm. port and put it in her ear. “I’ll call when I’m on my way home.”

Gina cleared her throat. “I’d tell you to be careful, but I know you won’t.”

“Count on it.” She cocked her head at Sarah. “No wise words from you?”

Sarah straightened her back and smoothed her hair. “If we’re going to have any chance at surviving as a group, we need the doctor. Bring her home in one piece, Lieutenant Commander.”

“Aye aye.” Kate made her way down the ramp and out of the ship.

“We have work to do,” Sarah said to Kate. “Let’s get to it.”

Jack crawled away from M’isti, but it was no use. He did not have the strength or speed to evade the Omegan, and thus he was only killing time before his inevitable demise. “You want to know… a secret… F’ath?” Jack asked. “I’ll tell you… a secret,” he said, trying to catch his breath. The broken ribs were making even the slightest intakes of oxygen extremely painful, but he had begun to reach a point where he was getting accustomed to it.

M’isti wiped the back of his right hand across his nose, and saw that the flow of blood had increased. “I have lost interest in anything you have to say… boy.” He advanced on Jack’s prone body.

“No… no… this is good, I promise…” Jack said, sputtering blood across the floor. “Really… good.” He rolled over and looked up at the Omegan. “Here… it is…” The War Angel’s captain wiped the blood out of his eyes. “I’m not dumb.”

F’ath raised an eyebrow. “That’s your secret? Pathetic. And stupid.” He reached down and lifted Jack from the floor. “Goodbye, Captain Keys.” His arm reared back to throw one last punch, a punch that would surely be Jack’s end.

“No no no… you don’t get it,” Jack muttered. “The bug wasn’t supposed to kill you all.” M’isti, confused, lowered his fist.

“What?”

Jack turned his head and spat blood to the side. “Two words… Supreme Commander…” he paused, trying to catch his breath, “Diversionary. Tactic.”

Suddenly, the room shook violently, as a shockwave moved through the bulkheads, followed by the sound of an enormous explosion. M’isti dropped Jack’s limp body to the deck, and staggered backward against the window. Looking down at the foe he thought defeated, he saw that the human was smiling contentedly. “What have you done, boy? What have you done!?”

War Angel: part seventy-six

Richard flew across the Kan’Tar’s landing bay astonished by what he saw. Dozens of dead Omegans littered the floor, blood seeping out of their noses and ears and soaking the deck. It was difficult for him to actually see the floor in some spots, the gory results of the War Angel’s plan so prevalent before him. He had been spared that sight in his own efforts; the canister of the disease that he was carrying had been shot into the Omegan ship’s air exhaust system once they were in the sealed landing bay. He was aware of the act he was committing, but it held little reality for him since he could not see inside the ship and see the results.

These results? These he could see, and they were terrifying. “We’re war criminals,” he thought to himself. “No civilized society uses biological weapons. We stopped that over a hundred years ago. And now…” He paused to think about it. “I wonder if we will go to prison,” he thought. “If there is ever a real truce, they’ll want us to go to prison.” Richard felt mortified.

“Enough of that,” he thought, docking the shuttle with the War Angel. “I have a job to do.”

As he exited the shuttle, he walked through the cargo area and saw the crate lying open. Inside were the dummy biogel packs full of the concentrated version of the bioweapon. Sarah’s instincts had been right; the Omegans went straight for the fancy technology, and they had gleefully cut open one of the gel packs to study it. The bodies outside on the ground showed just how poor a decision that was for the crew of the Kan’Tar.

He grabbed a loader and packed the materials from the shuttle aboard it. “First things first: get the main computer back up and running. Can’t count on my little jamming trick to last forever…”

The energy blast just missed hitting Gina in the face. “Will you pay damned attention?!” Kate asked, kicking her friend’s legs out from under her and sending her crashing to the floor. Kate returned fire, Omegan pistols in both hands. “Hey, guys,” she said, moving back around the corner for cover as their foes unleashed a return volley. “I don’t suppose either of you has a grenade?”

Gina cocked an eyebrow and patted her uniform pockets in exaggerated fashion. “I must have left mine in my other uniform.”

“You’re a riot, Hime,” Kate sneered, peeking around the corner and shooting another barrage.

“I can maybe make one,” Sarah volunteered. “Can I have one of the guns?” Kate looked at Sarah for a moment, wariness in her eyes. Finally, she handed the weapon to Sarah as laser blasts passed behind Kate’s back.

Kate checked the other gun and saw that it was down to 50% power. “Make it count, Supersonic.”

“Time for us to go,” Wilma muttered, looking at her hands still shaking. She walked across the lab to a towel dispenser and began cleaning the Omegan’s blood off of her body.

The elder Drake, shocked by what he had seen, spoke up first. “I assume that there is a plan? To get us out of here alive, I mean?”

“Strangely enough, yes,” Ben replied. “And right now it requires us to get back to the landing bay and to our ship. The doctor is right; it’s time for us to go.”

“But won’t they be waiting for us? There have to be hundreds of them on this ship. Thousands.”

Wilma closed her eyes and took a long breath. “Fewer and fewer by the minute if we’ve done this right.”

F’ath M’isti’s fist made solid contact with Jack’s abdomen, lifting him off the floor and sending him through the air. He landed with a bone-jarring thud in the middle of the room, bouncing twice before coming to a stop.

“That… all you got… Supreme Commander?” Jack croaked out, blood seeping from both lips. “You’re getting… weaker.”

The Omegan licked blood off his knuckles. “You are a ridiculous little man,” M’isti sneered. “I did not become Supreme Commander by being ordinary or weak. “I am the greatest of our warriors!” He advanced on Jack slowly. “I will not die easily. Not from your little disease.” He reached down and lifted Jack up by his uniform. “And you will die, regardless. Boy.”

Jack sailed across the room and impacted the window on the hull, then dropped to the ground with a sickening thud.

“Were those ribs I heard cracking?” M’isti asked, amused. “Please. I would enjoy knowing just how painful this is for you. So confident in yourself. So confident in your plan.” The Omegan walked around the desk and looked down at Jack. “You are going to die. Your friends are going to die. Your planet is going to die.” F’ath M’isti smiled. “But let it never be said that I am not civilized. Do you have any last words?”

The captain of the War Angel used his left arm to push himself against the hull, and he took agonizing seconds to sit up and look at his foe. Jack knew then that he had miscalculated. That he was overly arrogant. He had led his friends – his crew – into a death trap. What if the rest of the Omegans had M’isti’s immune system strength? He was so sure. So very sure. And he had been wrong.

He looked up through a swollen right eye and saw the instrument of his entire planet’s destruction smiling at him. Jack nodded slowly, and F’ath M’isti paused to see what Jack was going to say. Jack beckoned M’isti to come closer, and the Supreme Commander crouched down next to his fallen foe. “I am listening,” the Omegan said. “Speak.”

Jack nodded. Then he swirled his tongue around his mouth, gathered all the blood that had gathered there, and spat it in F’ath M’isti’s eyes. As the Omegan’s rage exploded, the War Angel’s captain began laughing uncontrollably.

War Angel: part seventy-five

2142- In Orbit Around Pluto

Wilma injected herself last. “You’ll all probably feel nauseous for an hour or so, but this will keep Kate’s little bug from killing you.”

“Excellent work, Doctor, Kate,” Jack replied. “And once this stuff does its business, are we contagious? Or just immune?”

“Immune. We won’t be carriers.”

“What would it take to change that?” He mulled it over for a second. “How could we spread it quickly if we needed to?”

Richard answered. “Aerosol. Or something like it. Something that moves it through the air quickly.”

“I have another way,” Sarah said, her voice dropping. “If your plan really gets us where we want to be, I think there’s a way to give it in a concentrated dose.”

Jack nodded. “Get to work.”

Richard attached the devices to everyone’s uniforms. “Okay, you guys. This is pretty simple. Press on the pip, and it releases a small mist carrying the bug. It’ll be so subtle that it’ll barely be noticeable. I hope. Probably ought to be careful, just in case.”

“I’m filled with confidence,” Ben said, rolling his eyes.

“Good work, Richard. When Omegans win a battle, it increases their standing in the ranks. M’isti will see that I’ve promoted you all and won’t think twice about it. He’ll think I’m just playing his game. He won’t expect the uniform itself to be a weapon. They’ll never see it coming.”

“Mine is essentially ready, too,” Sarah added. “They’ll rifle the hell out of the cargo bay, and this will be too tempting to pass up.”

“Time to put it all into motion, then,” Jack replied with a nod. “Let’s take the bastards out.”

2142- Aboard The Kan’Tar

T’reen strode down the corridor, his thoughts wrapped in anger. Those… humans… the enemy… being allowed on the Kan’Tar was almost more than he could stand. His entire life had been dedicated to the war arts, and his training had assured him that Earthmen were little more than slightly intelligent Idvall, ready to be led to slaughter.

But the Supreme Commander was instead showing them respect. Why? What did F’ath M’isti know that he did not? If he was to be next in line for this ship, it was a mystery he was going to have to solve.

Was it vengeance? Vengeance could have been served by simply blowing the War Angel to pieces once it arrived. Perhaps it went deeper than that. T’reen pondered what he knew of the Commander’s personal history. “Perhaps this is… nostalgia?” he wondered. “Whatever it is, I do not trust this man Keys. He is a slippery one.” Absently, he scratched his hand across his nose, and as he did, he felt moisture. Looking down, he saw his own blood smeared across his knuckles. “Odd,” he thought. He gave a cough, then entered the bridge.

“Status?” he barked, striding to the command chair as the door closed behind him. “I want an update on all ships in the fleet. Combat readiness, troop counts, all of it.”

The crewman at the comm. station spoke first. “We’re experiencing some tech difficulties, and comm. traffic is currently unreliable.”

T’reen whirled around. “Explain yourself!”

“Chatter on the comm. went quiet about an hour ago. This time of day, it tends to be quiet as it is, so it was not unusual. But after prolonged silence, I began running diagnostic scans of our equipment. There are no signs of equipment failure on the Kan’Tar. I was just about to start… sir?”

T’reen coughed and blood splattered across the floor. The warriors of the bridge crew jumped out of their seats. He coughed again, doubling over and spitting more blood onto the floor. “Fools…” he croaked out. “Fools. We are all fools!” The coughing began again, and T’reen’s blood spilled across the deck. One of the warriors flipped the internal comm. and began yelling for the ship’s physician. T’reen crawled to a nearby computer station and pulled himself to his feet. He rose unsteadily, slipping twice because of the blood coating his hands. He turned to look at the comm. officer. “We are being jammed you fool…” He then vomited, chunks of blood and Idvall spewing across the bridge floor. “It was… a trap… for us.”

The Omegan bridge crew stood around T’reen’s body, bewildered by what had just happened. They looked at each other in turn, noticing one by one that they had all started developing nosebleeds.

Jack tried with all his might to pry M’isti’s hands from around his throat. “What… do you… want?” he said, gasping for air. “Why… are you here?”

F’ath M’isti smiled. “You really believe, boy, that I will tell you that?” Jack squirmed and wriggled, trying to loosen the Omegan’s grip.

“Yes.”

The Omegan supreme commander turned and threw Jack across his desk, the War Angel commander bouncing off of the desk and into the inner hull of the Kan’Tar. “You aren’t going to survive our encounter, so why does it matter?” Jack started to reply, but M’isti cut him off. “No human has ever divined our purpose here. No human ever will.” He began a slow move around the desk and stood over Jack’s prone body. Keys looked up at him wide-eyed, then pushed himself backward across the floor slowly.

“Then why play along? Why bring us here?”

“Why waste resources hunting for you? Far easier to open the gate and let you in. You had nothing. You never did.”

“You son of a bitch.”

“You thought to outwit me, boy, and that amused me.” He watched Jack pick himself up and then brush at his Captain’s pip. Keys made his way to his feet, wobbling and trying to right himself. “I wanted to take your measure. I met your ancestor.” M’isti smiled. “I tortured your ancestor. For days. When I was a young warrior. I cut pieces off of his body, and he did not break. He was impressive, a true warrior. And then, I shot him down and crashed him into the moon, and he still survived.” The Omegan smiled in memory. “I wanted to see what the family lineage had produced. I was… curious.”

Jack stared in mute horror. “You… you…”

M’isti made a brushing motion with his hand. “Please spare me your outrage. This is war, boy, and it always has been.”

“Then let’s end it! Let us give you what you want!” Jack wiped sweat from his forehead, and fell backward into the wall.

The Omegan raised an eyebrow. “Can you give me the tomb of Prince S’agas T’horoth? Can you help me eradicate a genetic mistake that has haunted my world for centuries?” Jack opened his mouth, but said nothing. “Then I am afraid all you can do is die.”

A smile crossed Jack’s face. He righted himself, using the wall to stand up straight. “You first.”

M’isti let out a belly laugh. “Really? You are nowhere near my physical match, boy! I am stronger, faster, more experienced. You have no weapons. How do you expect to kill me?”

Jack saw a small trickle of blood form under the Omegan’s nose. “I don’t expect to, Supreme Commander…”

“I already have.”

War Angel: part seventy-four

“Impressive infirmary you have, Mr. T’reen,” Wilma said with genuine admiration. She walked deeper into the room, while the Drakes stayed just inside the door, her body spinning around slowly as she took in the wonders of the facility. “Advanced medicine development equipment, poly-resin for splints and sealing wounds together, full-body scanning beds…” The doctor clasped her hands together. “I’ve never seen its like. I’ll bet your crew never stays sick or injured for long.”

T’reen grunted. “We pride ourselves on our resistance to pain and injury.”

“Of course,” she replied.

An Omegan dressed in bright orange clothing walked into the room and nodded to T’reen. “How may I be of assistance?”

“The Supreme Commander has decreed that the Earther doctor be allowed to examine the old one for damage and to continue her care for the young one. See to it that she gets what she needs.”

“It will be done.” T’reen nodded and left. As he did, the Omegan doctor exhaled and gave the three of them a wan smile. “My name is L’ahl E’mito, and I am the chief medical officer of the Kan’Tar.” He waived them into the room and toward one of the scanning beds. “Shall we get started?”

F’ath M’isti’s office was not what Jack was expecting. In his imagination, Jack had pictured M’isti as a man of trophies, and he anticipated walls and cabinets filled with guns, knives, captured military insignia, and perhaps even a skull or two. Instead, the room that M’isti led him into was almost completely Spartan. There was a large desk at one end, a lone computer tablet laying on top, and there were two metal chairs without padding, both on the side of the desk closest to the door. The only “flair” to be seen was the window behind the desk. Through it, Jack could see B-class ships stationed off the Kan’Tar’s bow, a rough reminder of the corner the War Angel crew had willingly painted themselves into. Jack followed the Omegan across the room, and as M’isti walked to the back side of the desk, he pointed Jack to a chair.

He sat down. “Not what I was expecting from your office, Supreme Commander. Impressive view, though.”

The Omegan gave a slight sneer. “This is not my office,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “This is… a place for moments that need to be discrete.” He turned to face the window and stared at a passing ship. “What passes between us is not meant for the eyes and ears of others.”

“Worried about your own crew?” Jack smirked. “That’s rough.”

This time, F’ath M’isti growled. “Unlike your Captain Morrison, who apparently never saw it coming?” The contempt in M’isti’s voice was unmistakable. “Do not lecture me, boy. You are but one of many, and neither your life or your death are of any consequence to me.” Jack’s posture wilted slightly. “So let us cut to the heart of the matter. I am listening.”

Kate paced around the room, stalking an invisible foe across the floor. She continually flexed her fists, occasionally stopping to throw punches at the air. She unbuttoned the top buttons of her uniform and blew air down her front. As she fluttered the shirt against herself, she began pacing again. “I don’t like it,” she said, her voice quiet but firm.

“You don’t like it?” Sarah snorted. “Trust me – I like it a whole lot less than you. He’s who the hell knows where on this ship with a man… an alien… who could tear him apart limb from limb. I can’t… we can’t lose him, Kate. We need him. This is his stupid plan.”

Gina reached her hand across the table and took Sarah’s in hers and squeezed. “And he’s going to be just fine.”

Sarah swallowed her rising anxiety. “How can you be so damned sure?”

“Because no one is more completely full of it than Jack. He has a gift for this stuff, Sarah. He’s going to come back to us.” She paused and exhaled. “And he’s going to come back to you. But for now, we have a job to do. So: shall we ring for dessert?”

Jack sat back in his chair. “So if we can put the gate back together, we can put a stop to the intrusion into Erestia, and we can all go home happy. What do you say?”

M’isti’s face remained placid and unreadable, and he turned back to the window. “It’s an interesting theory, I’ll grant you that. Indeed, I’ll grant you this: my people did indeed come here centuries ago. We shared our culture with various tribes on your world, and we were happy to do so, including our legends of Erestia. What those tribes chose to take from us and add to their own lore was their doing. Your native North Americans certainly took more from us than most. However,” he said, suddenly beginning to smile, “Erestia is a place for the spirit, not the body, and we certainly never built any sort of gate to reach it. I’m afraid you’re quite wrong about our purpose here, Mr. Keys.” Before Jack could react, the Omegan jumped across the desk and lifted Jack out of his chair by the throat, picking him up and slamming him against the wall, his feet dangling below him.

“I’m afraid you and your crew won’t be leaving here alive.”

The light from the body scanner finished drifting down Patrick Drake’s body. L’ahl E’mito watched the readout carefully, pointing out bumps, bruises, and cracks to Wilma as they registered on a nearby screen. “He is in decent health,” L’ahl noted, “no broken bones, a few nasty lacerations. In all, surprisingly healthy for someone who has spent time as one of our prisoners.”

Ben raised an eyebrow. “Oh. Well. That’s a relief,” he said, helping his father out of the scanner and to a nearby table where the older man’s clothing was waiting for him to get re-dressed.

“We are not a race known for its kindness,” L’ahl replied, not registering the insult or sarcasm. “Typically, we just kill.” The Omegan beckoned to Ben to get undressed. “Let’s have a look at you.” The younger Drake dropped his clothes to the floor and walked over to the machine, stepping in. As he did, it leaned back and he found himself staring at the ceiling.

The older Drake coughed. “No worries, son. Totally painless.” In response to that, ben shot Wilma a look. “Just let the man or whatever he is do his job.”

L’ahl wiped a large amount of sweat from his forehead, then started the scanner at the top of Ben’s body. “Ah, yes, I see,” he said as the light moved slowly downward, “throat trauma.” Wilma nodded. “No treatment here for that, I’m afraid. Only time will heal that.”

She shrugged. “It was a longshot.”

The scanner continued downward, and L’ahl began to furrow his brow, then coughed. “Interesting. Interesting. Doctor, it appears as though…” He looked up sharply and coughed again, then refocused on his screen. “It appears as though this man has an unusually virulent disease coursing through… oh, no. Oh, no.” The Omegan doctor coughed louder. “We must establish quarantine immed-“

Wilma grimaced as she shoved the scalpel through the back of L’ahl’s neck and through his throat in the front. The Omegan doctor collapsed to the ground, beginning to drown in his own blood as he aspirated it into his lungs, as well as spilled it across the infirmary floor. As she watched him die, she looked down to see that her hands were covered in his blood. They began shaking uncontrollably, and the elder Drake came up behind her and pulled her away. She looked at the corpse and a tear made a slow journey down her cheek “I’m sorry, L’ahl, but I can’t allow you to do that.” Wilma wiped the tear away. “I’m sorry.”

War Angel: part seventy-three

Ben leapt out of his chair and ran to his father. The older man looked up as he heard the shout and immediately warmed upon seeing his son. Ben threw his arms around the elder Drake and hugged him tight, tears beginning to gently fall down his cheeks. “Dad…” he whispered.

Patrick Drake responded with a quick “Oww! Easy, boy. Easy. You’re putting the hurt on your old man!” He broke the hug with his son and placed his hands on his shoulders, eyeballing him from head to toe. “You alright son? Your voice sounds funny and you’re awfully bruised up. Bad accident?”

Spying Kate out of the corner of his eye, he replied “Something like that, yeah.”

F’ath M’isti cleared his throat. “A lovely reunion. But now we dine. Idvall loses its flavor if not eaten quickly. You will have plenty of time to catch up after we’re done, I assure you.” Jack and Sarah shot glances at one another. “Please sit,” he said, pointing at the two empty chairs.

Jack nodded at Ben. “Yes. Let’s remember that we’re all civilized here and follow the host’s lead.” He turned to M’isti. “Is it customary for the host to try the food first or the guests?” The Omegan reached for his knife and sliced off a slice of the meat, then shoved it into his mouth. He chewed for a moment, then began to smile. Taking this as a cue, the rest of the table began digging into their dinner.

As they ate, the crew of the War Angel navigated the etiquette of the situation. Most attempts at small talk were waived off by M’isti and T’reen, but Sarah posed a question that finally engaged the enemy commander. “Tell us, Supreme Commander, what do you think of the War Angel? She looks pretty good for her age, don’t you think?”

M’isti tossed his napkin onto the table and leaned back in his chair. “I think you’ve done a remarkable job, Commander Matto. Remarkable.” A far away look crossed his face. “Remarkable. She hasn’t aged a day since I sent her crashing into your Earth’s moon.”

Gina coughed up the bite of salad she was chewing. “I’m sorry, what? You –“

“I was the commander of the ship – well a pair of ships – that fought your ship and sent her toward her final destination.” He frowned. “Or so I thought.”

Kate, eschewing tact, jumped in. “She take anybody with her?”

“Oh, yes. Both of my ships. I watched the War Angel crash from the window of my escape pod.”

“A glorious and honorable victory, then,” Jack chimed in.

F’ath M’isti leaned forward with his elbows on the table. “Yes. And an honorable defeat as well. Many warriors made their way to Erestia that day. But I lived on.” He paused. “I live on.”

“As befits a Supreme Commander,” Sarah said, raising her glass.

His eyes narrowed. “Yes. And now she is risen from the dead, your precious War Angel. Imagine my surprise when I began reading the EAD files and discovered the ship was spaceworthy once more. Then I read about the improvements you’ve been working on, including the tachyon scoop. A fascinating piece of technology.” All movement in the room stopped. “Which is, of course, missing from the ship, along with your main computer core. Bold gambit, Captain Keys.”

“You obviously know that I cannot allow that kind of technology to fall into your hands, flag of truce or no flag of truce, Supreme Commander.” He shrugged his shoulder. “But I give your warriors full marks for the speed with which they have obviously scoured my ship.”

“The absence of medical supplies and food and water is interesting as well, Captain. You aren’t very trusting.”

“Would you be if our positions were reversed?”

The Omegan grunted. “Of course not. But I would have never suggested a meeting of this nature, either.”

Jack coughed and wiped sweat away from his forehead. “Desperate times, sir. Desperate times.”

M’isti stood and backed away from the table. “Well. It is certainly shaping up to be a fascinating evening. Captain Keys, I believe that you and I are due for a private discussion. As to the rest of you…”

Wilma raised her hand. “My apologies, Supreme Commander. May I take Mr. Drake and his son to your infirmary and check them over? Lieutenant Drake was already under care before we came, and it certainly appears as though Mr. Drake could use a once-over.”

The Omegan snorted. “Very well. T’reen will escort you there. As for the rest of you,” Sarah, Kate, and Gina looked up, “I am tempted to hold you in the brig while Captain Keys and I chat. But it would be… rude. Instead, you will remain here under guard. Feel free to have more food and drink.”

From around the table, the faces of the War Angel crew turned to Jack. “Okay,” he said, calmly, “you heard him. We’ll meet back here after out chat.” They all nodded. “Where to, Supreme Commander?” Jack stood from the table.

“Follow me,” M’isti replied, and turned to leave the room.

War Angel: part seventy-two

The doors parted swiftly, and T’reen wasted no time leading the War Angel crew into the room. Sarah’s eyes darted around quickly, taking inventory of where they were: the walls were a bright shade of white, and they tapered to a point around twenty-five feet above their heads. At the far end of the room was another door, barely perceptible in the wall. A long table stretched down the middle of the room, covered in ornate fabrics and place settings. She took note that each plate was accompanied by a knife that was certainly sharp enough to be deadly to either species in the room, wondering just how confident the Omegans were that the crew was of no threat or consequence. There were nine chairs around the table, each with a high back and thick padding. “Luxurious,” she thought. “Strangely so.” A chair sat at each end of the table, and she realized that T’reen was going to be sticking around. “Jack, you lucky bastard,” she thought, exhaling heavily.

T’reen waived the group to their seats, Jack going first and taking one next to where he assumed M’isti would sit. Sarah sat across from him, eyeing him carefully, and the rest fell in quickly: Kate and Gina, then Wilma next to the empty chair, and Ben across from her. If the Omegans kept their end of the bargain, Drake’s father would be joining them soon. But the main event was the Supreme Commander, and he did not disappoint.

As the crew got comfortable, the other door opened and F’ath M’isti strode into the room. M’aschi T’reen stood, and the War Angel crew absently did the same, greeting the leader of the Omegan forces as he entered. Seeing him up close for the first time, Jack had to admit to himself that he was more than a little impressed. Much as he had ordered the War Angel crew to wear dress uniforms, M’isti had gone all out, donning his own formal garb. The purple-hued alien was wearing a combination of black pants and short black boots, along with a dark red tunic that was bordered with black stripes and symbols that Jack had never seen before. Draped off of his shoulders was a full cape, reminiscent of leaders from mid-20^th century Earthen lore. He stood almost seven and a half feet tall, and as he walked to the table, he seemed to just get bigger.

For the first time, Jack had serious doubts about his plan.

“I present F’ath M’isti, Supreme Commander of the Omegan fleet!” T’reen bellowed, and then bowed to his commander. “Supreme Commander, I present the crew of the War Angel.”

M’isti stood and looked around at the humans in his midst, his face frozen in concentration. After the first few seconds, Gina felt a drop of sweat trickle down her cheek, followed by another. She turned her gaze slightly downward, suddenly wondering if they were allowed to actually look at the man.

Jack merely smiled. “Nice cape, Supreme Commander.”

M’isti turned slowly on his heel, and cocked an eyebrow. “I’d offer you one, but I doubt we have one in your size, Captain.” That burst the dam, and Jack let out a belly laugh. M’isti joined him, stopping his laugh to waive at the rest. “Please, sit. You’ve come a long way for dinner. And dinner we shall have!” He snapped his fingers loudly, and two smaller Omegans appeared from the door where the crew had entered.

The first Omegan, Kate noticed, was a woman, the first female of the species she had seen. Though shorter in stature than either T’reen or M’aschi, she was still an imposing figure. Given the chance, Kate was certain that the Omegan was plenty strong enough to kill a human in unarmed combat without working up a sweat.  The Omegan woman poured water into glasses around the table, and as she finished, a male Omegan stepped in behind and placed covered dishes in front of each member of the dining party. As they backed away, F’ath M’isti stood and placed his hands on his hips.

“Captain Keys,” he said, nodding in Jack’s direction. “I see you have treated this crew honorably. You won a great victory and rewarded them properly with battlefield promotions.” Jack looked up at his Omegan counterpart and gave a slight nod. “I see that you are now… Commander Matto, Lieutenant Commander Stinson, Lieutenant Almond, and Lieutenant Drake.” He grabbed his glass of water and raised it to the War Angel crew. “Impressive.”

Jack toasted him back. “Thank you, Supreme Commander.”

“Pity about your accident, though,” M’isti replied with a slight snarl.

“Yes. Lieutenant Commander Park was a good man. He’ll be missed,” Jack said, cutting him off.

“Where is my father!?” Ben blurted, no longer able to contain himself.

M’isti sat back down. “On his way, young Drake. Patience. Now,” he said, his voice taking on a soothing tone, “you’re probably wondering what we’re having this evening.” He lifted the cover off of his own dinner, and on the plate was a hunk of some meat that none of the crew could immediately recognize, accompanied by some leafy greens. “This is Idvall, and Omegan delicacy. The human equivalent would be something like your beloved cow. I believe you have a dish called prime rib?”

“I’m a fan,” Jack said with a smile.

“Then you should enjoy this very much. Idvall is a rarity here of course; we had to bring a supply with us and it is difficult to keep fresh.”

Sarah gave M’isti a gentle smile. “It is very generous of you to share it, then. Thank you.” He seemed surprised by her speaking up, but he caught himself and nodded in her direction.

“It is my pleasure.”

At that moment, the door opened again, and an Omegan warrior stepped into the room. “The prisoner, Supreme Commander.” He stepped aside, and Patrick Drake stepped into the room. The older man had been cleaned up, but it was clear that he had many bruises and contusions, and he was having difficulty walking on his own. He was staring at the ground, watching his feet move as he walked, oblivious to what was going on or where he was, but that ended quickly with a loud shout.

“Dad!”