YAHOO!
Two years in the works!
Copyright 1992 Scott S. Kellogg. All rights reserved. :-)
THE 4.5TH COLUMNISTS
by
Scott Kellogg
- I -
Miakr's eyes nearly fell out as his doctor checked over the
stitched up holes in his abdomen: for just a second, Jietlshaiepr
had bent over in such a way that... Viepchakl, she's...
"You'll live." she snorted, "It's more than you deserve
letting yourself get caught like that. Be glad I didn't find you
before Lt. Jones did. I'd have finished you off. What did you
think you were you doing stepping in front of an advanced combat
rifle anyway?"
Miakr didn't dare sigh his relief. Jietlshaiepr was an
excellent surgeon, but she feigned laziness. She put on a show of
resentment if anyone got her nice clean sick bay bloodied up.
"You've got a tear in your liver that's healing, and your
small intestine was ripped up. Messy surgery. You were lucky.
Remind me to beat the tar out of you when you're recovered."
Miakr felt the hum of the drives, "Where are we heading?"
"Pulling along side the VIXEN. Badly damaged but we're
putting a salvage team aboard. We will see if it has anything
aboard worth salvaging."
- II -
Shtam drank deeply from the Welles brew they'd brought aboard
and mopped his forehead. Hours of salvage work in battle dress had
soaked him in sweat. The VIXEN was a twisted wreck. The jump
drive was melted into a blob of fused alloy, and the maneuver drive
had been smashed off its mounting and completely thrown off the
ship. The number two turret pylon had snapped: the tower was a
broken stalk of celery with long strips of hull plate ripped out of
it. Number one turret was hit along its mounting and, though
nearly undamaged, it could not turn. Number three caught fragments
and was so much perforated cheese. The main missile bay was badly
damaged with three quarters of the missile tubes ripped open or
melted away. The compartments of the fuel tanks were cracked open
like a carton of eggs. They had been nearly empty when they came
out of jump, and when the last few drops of hydrogen fuel bled
away, the VIXEN died.
Shtam shook his head and pursed his lips, "She can never fly
again. She had already exceeded her expected life: VIXENs are not
designed to be used more than once. The hull can not stand the
strain of the full weapons load. The robot ships are meant to fly
a single attack mission and be destroyed. This VIXEN was used
before. She can never be used a third time."
"We found the master robot director was intact." announced
Vole. "The robots on the VIXEN are slave units: not capable of
independent action. With the master unit intact, we can use them.
Without it, the robot bodies are just unguided junk."
Shtam summarized the salvage, "Three robots, probably
repairable, along with bits and pieces of the others. We have five
more high explosive missiles. There are some nuclear missiles
aboard, but they will not fit our missile racks so we grabbed the
warheads and left the boosters. We removed some of the sensor
equipment and avionics, but it is not as advanced as Flamboyant's
sensors, so it can not really help to replace it, and besides we
would have a tough time calibrating it."
"We could sell it." pointed out Miakr looking up from his bed.
Miakr's eyes were heavy as well from the exertion of overseeing
Vole in the salvaging. "The VIXEN is higher tech stuff than nearly
all the planets around here. I'm sure somebody'd pay for it, even
if it's just junk to us. In the mean time, I've got some robots to
play with..."
- III -
Zylath 100233-9
"...arport control broadcasting to incoming vessels. You will
come in for docking on an equatorial course of ninety degrees east
at an altitude of twenty kilometers until reaching three hundred
forty degrees longitude, there come to course niner three and
descend at three hundred meters per minute and land at starport
facilities. Please do not deviate from our traffic pattern.
"Welcome to Zylath. This is Starport control broadcasting to
incoming vessels..."
The recording continued to repeat itself.
- IV -
Gresha shook her head to clear it. The psi-null-drugs would
give her a temporary psi-shield, but the initial headache involved
was tiresome.
She looked up from the holo display, "Picking up another ship
approaching the starport. Small... Five hundred megawatts...
Looks like a scout ship... Hard to tell at this range, but I make
her out as a Ninz class scout... On base leg in the traffic
pattern... Estimate four six minutes till they touch down. Read
transponder as SX-6457 I.S. All Nighter."
Niedrsha frowned. "Imperial registry? A Consulate built Ninz
class scout?"
Gresha nodded.
"Pirate?" asked Jietlshaiepr.
Gresha lifted one lip and shrugged, "No way to tell from
here."
"What about other ships?"
"None. I don't read any activity whatsoever in system.
Zylath must have a pretty big power plant though: high neutrino
emission."
Niedrsha raised an eyebrow, "This system is supposed to have
a strong mining operation in it."
"Then, they're on strike..."
- V -
The Flamboyant settled into the huge elongated hexagonal
hanger of the starport, nestling closely with the All Nighter.
Truly an odd sight: a Consulate built scout with the Imperial
sunburst parked next to an Imperial built gun boat with the
circular Consular crest.
The All Nighter was painted black with a colorful dragon's
head over the nose of the ship. Just behind the left ear of the
dragon was a painting of a nude human female reclining on a
mattress along with the name plate: "All Nighter".
Niedrsha leered at Jietlshaiepr and nodded towards the
Flamboyant's nose. "Our's ought to fit right in. I told ya it was
a good idea."
Flamboyant's nose had been repainted. A young woman smiled
mischievously out at the universe along with the ship's adopted
name: "Miscat Zhje Gorrne." translation: "Target for tonight".
Kfoks and Shtam had produced an excellent work of art, but
Jietlshaiepr was still angry over a certain resemblance.
The hanger door closed and the bay began to pressurize.
- VI -
Chilled stale air crept through the airlock.
The pilot was tall for an imperial, with longish dark hair,
medium heavy build. "Greetings," The word echoed and died in the
crypt of the hanger. The imperial pilot spoke Zhodani formally
with a strange accent, reminiscent of zhodani nobility but with a
strong imperial overtones. His speaking came with some difficulty
and he seemed amused by the novelty of the language as he spoke it.
"I am Jeff Ralampago, pilot of the All Nighter. This is my gunner
Gdeerzorr." The human gestured toward a tall female Vargr with a
black and white coat who stared distrustfully through Flamboyant's
airlock.
Ralampago continued smiling, "We looking around the port and
no one is afoot. I wonder if you may know where people are. I
never have gone through this port."
"I am afraid you are under a misapprehension." observed
Jietlshaiepr studying the pair, "We are not from this system." She
closed her eyes to recite the little story Kfoks had written,
"We're here to conduct some prospecting investigations for Consular
mining cooperations."
"Ah, I see. Good luck. Which cooperation is that?"
"I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to say, publicity you see...
Don't want to stir people up with false ideas."
Ralampago seemed to have gotten lost in the translation.
Confusion swept momentarily over his face and he smiled politely.
"If you look for some experienced prospectors, my brother has been
operating here for time: Miguel Ralampago. He knows the system
very well."
"Thank you."
Jietlshaiepr came through the airlock followed closely by
Niedrsha, Kfoks, Tuerz, Shtam, and Vole. The hanger holding the
two ships was indeed deserted. A curious silence hung over the
scene as Flamboyant's crew studied the cavernous hanger.
"It appears as though this hanger has not been used in some
time." commented Shtam as he noted a thin layer of dust scuffed
aside by his boots.
"What's the local time?" asked Kfoks.
"About point eight of the local day has past..." thought
Niedrsha aloud, "Call it mid evening... Perhaps they're all out to
dinner..."
"Or out to lunch." growled Tuerz.
- VII -
Steps spiralled down from the hanger airlock through cold,
hewn stone. Heels clicked as the two crews descended.
The stairs emptied out at the southern end of the main street.
Deserted. The avenue stretched the length of the underground
cavern lined with quonset huts and small buildings. Silent side
roads intersected along its length.
No movement anywhere.
Tuerz ears twitched constantly as the group moved down the
center of the empty avenue. The bitter air was heavily laden with
silence. A ventilator began to hiss softly through chilling teeth
far away.
Several of the closer huts were blocked up. Paint peeled back
from the aluminum structures while rags hung from broken windows.
Shtam eyed the surrounding structures "Vole, what is the
listed population here?"
"Nine hundred thirty six."
"When was that?"
"Eighteen years ago."
Shtam looked about at the buildings and nodded grudgingly, "It
looks as though there might have been enough housing here for
that... a tight fit perhaps, but it could have been enough."
They continued down the street, filing past deserted huts in
varying states of disrepair. None showed any sign of recent
occupation. Broken windows stared like dark eyes at the intruders
as though they defiled the cave row of tomblike buildings.
"Looks like a great place to recruit miners." sneered
Gdeerzorr as she looked about studying the place. She walked close
by Ralampago sniffing the air for non existent traces.
Kfoks sniffed at the air also, but more to savor the slightly
musky, sweet scent of the vargr female beside him, "Well, we can
always bring in miners from out system. After all, the tech level
here isn't too high, we'd have to train anyone we hired here."
"I'm picking up some life." reported Vole. "Four three
degrees, range: ninety meters."
- VIII -
SPACE WINDS was the only inhabited place they passed. The bar
had its windows still intact, though its neon sign was flickering,
and several letters were dead. On one side of the sign the entire
word 'space' was out, while the stylized rounded letters distorted
the remaining word into 'WINOS'.
Ralampago entered first, "Hello...?"
No answer came from the decidedly silent clientele. Four of
them stared from where they sat, then they stood and prepared to
leave. No one was behind the bar.
"Well," asked Ralampago, "What do you do to get service around
here?"
Three men stood by the bar, staring coldly, without speaking,
one of them rang a service bell.
"WELL! Well! Well!" the bray shattered the stillness like a
sledge hammer on an ice cube. The bartender appeared out of a back
room, a short, balding zhodani with a long thick mustache, "Welcome
to the old Space Winds! What'll you have? Eh? HAW! HAW! HAW!"
The laugh did not dispel the silence of the place.
"Beer!" called Niedrsha.
"Brandy." said Jietlshaiepr cautiously.
Kfoks tail waved slightly, "Vodka martini, stirred not shaken,
it bruises the gin."
"How about beer all round for the rest of us, just to keep
things from getting too complicated." suggested Shtam.
"Fine, fine..." The bartender bent down behind the bar.
Ralampago smiled at Shtam "I'm much obliged to you all... Ah!
The old Ghost Riders!" He indicated a model Shtelfire fighter
hanging from the ceiling. "Alentzar fighter squadron: stationed
here during the fourth frontier war. The old base's not far from
here, it's abandoned now."
"Oh you know this system, mister...?" asked the bartender.
"Ralampago." he answered, "Well not really, but my brother
told me about it: Miguel. Do you know him?"
The bartender looked confused. "Miguel..."
"Miguel Ralampago. Works around here as a machinist."
"Oh yes of course! Miguel!" he nodded smiling.
"How's he doing?"
"Just fine! Just fine!"
Ralampago smiled and looked back at the model.
"Ah yes," smiled the bartender handing round the drinks. "The
Ghost Riders! Great bunch of folks in the old squadron. The bar is
the only thing left now. The old base bein' a radiation hazard...
We used to be in here every night."
"You were here then?" asked Jietlshaiepr.
"Yes, but on the other side of the bar! Enlisted Pilot,
Flight Sergeant Kiriat, Whezel Kiriat! After it was all over, I
just found my way back and took over this bar!" He gestured the
surroundings.
"Not the friendliest place." whispered Jietlshaiepr. "Oh,
the locals..." breathed Whezel, "Well... they're not so bad,
isolated, bit xenophobic... but nothing dangerous." He winked and
then continued aloud, "So you're here to see Miguel eh?"
"Yup." smiled Ralampago, "Quick visit. I haven't heard from
him in a while. We're getting too far out of touch."
"And what about the rest of you? Relatives about?"
"No, I'm afraid not." answered Kfoks, "Corporation's got us
hunting around prospecting."
Whezel shook his head. "Oh, I don't think you'll have much
luck. Not in this system. Place is pretty well tapped out."
"Well, that's what we heard, but orders are orders. We might
find something, and that might breathe a little life around here."
Ralampago seemed perturbed. "Tapped out? That's not what I
heard..."
"Just a moment." A well-tanned but stony faced woman strode
over and fixed on Kfoks. "I'm Jiel Kerreur, head of the
prospecting bureau. You'll need to process several licenses before
you can do any prospecting and exploitation in this system."
"Oh dear..." moaned Jietlshaiepr, and I was hoping this would
be a short survey..."
Kfoks tail waved again, "Well, Jiel our schedule was only to
put us here for a short while, but we can stay long enough to go
through channels before we begin the survey."
Ralampago turned to Jietlshaiepr, "Well, if you need an expert
prospector just look for Miguel, he knows this system really well."
He looked at his watch, "Well we've got to go find him. Thanks for
the drink. You must let me return the favor soon."
Ralampago and Gdeerzorr stood and headed for the door.
"Good night!" called Whezel.
Wordlessly, three of the locals got up to leave. They took up
their laser drills and followed Ralampago and Gdeerzorr out. With
a tinge of regret, Kfoks watched as Gdeerzorr swayed out.
A sudden thought struck Jiel Kerreur, "Are you just
surveying?"
Kfoks nodded slowly, "Yes, the corporation is more interested
in finding out what's here rather than start mining now, we don't
have the proper equip..."
"We'll if it's just surveying, then you won't need a license.
I don't want to waste your time."
Kfoks bowed and took up her hand, "Surely, you couldn't waste
my time with your company. Now Jiel, will you join me?"
Jiel Kerreur smiled and gave the handsome vargr an appraising
look through the corner of her eye. "Sir, you have the advantage
of me..."
"Not yet," he thought, "but soon..."
- IX -
Ralampago entered the machine shop and called out cheerily,
"Miguel!?" The bay echoed the question, reverberating off the
metal walls like the inside of a morgue.
Light spilled softly from an office door silhouetting the
monstrous metalworking machines that loomed out of the dim light.
Gdeerzorr sniffed the air and listened. Burned lubricating
oil hung in the air, fresher air than the rest of the place,
obviously not as deserted as the main chamber, but no sound...
Wait... Not entirely silent... There's someone walking
around... Several sets of foot steps... Hard to tell with all
this echo...
She motioned Ralampago to silence and closed her eyes to
listen. Her ears flicked around like dish antenna trying to get a
fix on the noises. "They're getting close... Under here!" she
whispered. She caught his shoulder and pulled him behind a titanic
lathe.
Under cover she pulled a snub pistol from beneath her skirt
and rammed a magazine of high explosive home.
"Hold ON." breathed Ralampago. "What's gotten..."
"Jeff, this whole planet stinks!" she growled softly. "We're
being followed, and I say we get back to the ship and blow!"
Four figures moved across the edge of the machine bay carrying
heavy mining lasers.
- X -
"Oh yes," continued Whezel Kiriat, "The mine's mainly had iron
ore but it wasn't very pure. It's really a wonder they ever
started excavation. Anyway, what was there has long been mined
out. They try occasional exploratory blasts but they've never
really found much."
A sharp blast went off in the distance.
A few seconds later a series rang out in an irregular
staccato.
"There, you see?" asked Whezel. "They blast, but nothing ever
comes of it.
Flamboyant's crew exchanged worried glances.
Kfoks turned to Jiel with his head inclined to her, "Are you
ready to go home now?"
She looked unafraid into his eyes, "Yes, let's go."
- XI -
When you're close to me
I can smell you're in heat
I can hear you breathing in my ears
Wouldn't you agree,
Baby you and me
Got a vargr kind of love?
"Vargr Kind of Love" -- The Loonees
Music played softly as the two figures slowly swayed in the
low light of Jiel Kerreur's apartment. Taek's tail waving slowly
with the rhythm as they danced closely. Jiel's fingers played
about his neck feeling the soft fur-covered steel of his muscles.
Gently, with featherlike touches, she worked her way up the
back of his head to his ears, and began to lightly rub. A growling
whimper escaped him as she worked magic on the sensitive spot.
For a delicious moment he closed his eyes and stood there
absorbing it all. The universe existed solely in his ears, and all
that moved was her fingertips. His sigh seemed many kilometers
away.
She inclined her head and pulled him to her.
It started as a soft kiss, but Jiel would have none of that.
Taek felt a warm tongue probing at his lips and running along his
teeth. He hesitated for a split second at this very human kiss and
opened his jaws. Her tongue sank past his sharp canines and
tickled at his own.
She shivered, Taek held her closer, wrapping his silk furred
arms around her and nuzzling her neck. She wrapped her fingers
around his head and pressed him to her. Slowly, with infinite
patience, he licked his way up her neck to her ear.
Jiel began to moan softly at the touch of his long probing
tongue. Her ears, while wet, felt no chill while his hot breath
warmed them, tenderly tickling the tiny hairs on the back of her
neck.
Taek's muzzle was buried in her hair. The scent of her
shampooed coiffure was delightful: not so soulful or heartpounding
as the beautiful, crazy-making scent of a vargr woman, but with a
softer, more gentle appeal.
She gasped as his clawed hands gently swept up her flanks
reaching for the clasps of her blouse. Her sighs echoed in their
ears as his velvet fur tickled lightly over her bare chest.
- XII -
Consciousness felt like the sharp rocks of the airless surface
ripping away at reality. The foul stench of burned fur hung in
Gdeerzorr's vac suit. The laser wound had cauterized itself
preventing too much blood loss, and the vac suit had power to run
the air scrubbers. She could survive for a little while at least
on the surface of Zylath.
Jeff Ralampago was dead. All the indicators on the stolen
suit were red. She shut down the power. She could bury him in the
rocks, but she needed his batteries to run her own suit.
Suddenly, she ducked behind the rocks.
Silently, a G-Carrier was approaching over the wasteland
plain.
She fingered the snub pistol... four rounds armor piercing
and six rounds high explosive left...