Victory's Defeat by Mark Tufo
“It will be necessary for me to call the general to let him know that those ships are coming and their purpose.”
Asuras studied my face, I could only hope he wasn’t as astute as Dee.
“Very well.” Asuras came over and grabbed a tin of the spam. “I would like to try this; it is apparently a delicacy among my people; at least according to transmissions from the Julipion.”
“Let’s get to it,” I said nervously. I’m sure I was an octave or seven higher than I should have been.
“Fucking smooth,” BT whispered as we were getting ready to follow Asuras to the bridge.
“Speaking of delicacy,” Greggs said, “I think I ate something that didn’t overly agree with me. Is there a place I could lay down with waste facilities nearby?”
“You are ill? I could summon a doctor.” Asuras had turned.
“I am lactose intolerant, Commander, yet I am a glutton for cheese; I can hardly resist it. The chef made a reasonable facsimile of a Swiss gruyere fondue and I could not refuse to accept. My stomach is going to protest my selection for an hour or two, and then I will be fine. I would just like to lie down in a darkened room and rue my choices for the day.”
“Of course, please feel free to use my quarters.” We went back about twenty feet and Asuras let him in. And just like that, our interface man was in position. I'll admit to a small level of guilt dealing this crap to the Progerians. They were so willing to take our words at face value, and we were so fucking willing to lie our pants off. Made the deception somehow more cringe worthy—like we were tricking a toddler out of his lollipop, kind of a greasy feel to it.
“Thank you,” Greggs said as he grabbed his stomach for effect. Lying bastard gave me a thumbs-up look before turning away.
There was a plus side, though, because I would never be able to trust them completely. I still was thinking this was a set-up of some sort, and it kept me on nervous alert. Guards were most assuredly going to come out of a hidden passageway and take Greggs prisoner the moment he hooked up the interface board. They were parceling out just enough rope for us to hang ourselves, before reeling us back in. They would wait patiently until I flipped open the hidden panel to turn on the cube. As soon as they detected the random signal they would turn on me and I would once again find myself a prisoner on a Prog ship, and this time there would be no escape. If I had to take a guess, I think our deaths would be swift and painful.
I didn’t fuck around. As we approached the bridge I put my finger in the hidden compartment. The moment we crossed the threshold I depressed the switch, and not a millisecond too soon as Asuras grabbed the box. I figured that this was it; he’d open it up and I’d get a heat blast to my back. I was bending over, heading for my nine millimeter when BT reached down to grab my shoulder. He had this huge fake shit-eating grin on his face.
“What the fuck you doing Talbot?” he asked out of the corner of his mouth.
“Uh, nothing,” I replied when I looked up and Asuras was parading the basket around, holding up a can of Spam like it was Dom Perignon and talking animatedly about the new peace between us. I sort of felt bad that I was planning on severely raining on said parade. I kept a watchful eye out on those officers sticking close to their consoles; one in particular seemed to be very curious about something he was seeing. “We might have a problem,” I said nodding to the Prog who had neither moved from his seat nor was watching the somewhat celebration behind him.
“You need to do something…he looks like he’s getting ready to throw up some red flags.”
I admit I panicked; it had not been my intention to do something racist—it was spontaneous, something I’d done as a kid when we played cowboys and Indians. I started whooping and hollering, clapping my fingers across my mouth in the classic movie genre way that I am pretty sure no Native American ever did. I even did a horrible rendition of their war dance around the fire; hopping on one leg, then the other...I’d watched them do this dozens of times in movies I watched with my father. The cool thing was, they bought the cultural hoopla just like my five year-old self-had.
BT wanted to ask me what I was doing, even though he must have recognized it for the diversion it was. As asinine as it was, the show was on and he had no choice but to play along. I was making a spectacle of myself; that was the point. The poindexter Prog had still not looked away so I circled around right behind him and went full throttle into my ceremonial brouhaha.
“It’s a Peace Dance!” BT blurted out. I nodded.
I made sure I bumped the Prog with my ass as I whooped louder. I was bobbing my head up and down and I was bringing my knees up high, in a running in place type of cavort, I guess. If I did this on earth, it would either start raining or I’d be getting locked up for a psych eval right about now. I bumped into the console officer again. I heard a low grumble, pretty sure he wanted to tear me in two. I don’t think I’d chewed up more than twenty seconds of the two minutes Greggs needed. Asuras right about now had to be wondering why he’d thrown his hat in with Humans; I was not making any headway towards dispelling any stereotypes or stigmas they may have had about us. BT had that slightly embarrassed, bloated look on his face—the kind where you can hardly bear to watch someone you know do something so exceedingly embarrassing, but you peek through splayed fingers because you also can't look away. I stopped the war-chant and went right into heavy metal head banging, even going so far as to play air drums.
BT finally reached his cringe quota and had actually partially turned away. I was using the console officer’s head as my imaginary drum, even though I had to reach up to do so. He was not amused in the least. Things changed the moment I missed…or more accurately hit what I imagined would have been a cymbal. I planted my forehead square into his shoulder at the same time my left hand came down on the top of his head. He stood like an ejector rocket had been activated on his chair. He squared up to me, his heavy arms hung down by his sides but his fists were balled up. He was about to end the suffering for all those that had to watch me move about with the grace of a drunken toddler. Now, I’m not saying I’ve ever seen a drunken toddler or that there should be such a thing; I’m saying that they are already a wobbly locomotion machine and if they should so happen to stumble across some fermented grape juice their resultant actions would be spectacularly awkward. I looked like that.
Closeted rock star that I am, I kept head-banging away, even playing a couple of drum notes on his stomach. If I only ended up with a concussion, a broken nose, and three busted out teeth after my solo, I would consider myself lucky. Asuras must have predicted my imminent visit to sick bay and interceded; similar to a host that removes a half-empty bottle of Jack from a guest making a move on his boss's wife.
“Dredmoor! Come and enjoy our new found peace with the Humans. Together we will soon defeat the Stryvers.”
Dredmoor took two heavy breaths and snorted at me once. I could see it in his posture that he would rather rip into me than smoke a peace pipe; just figured I would keep with the Native American theme. He turned and went to his senior officer, the funny blips or squiggles on his computer screen were momentarily forgotten. I’d been doing my routine for a full minute and I was about to call it quits; that shit is tiring. But Asuras actually clapped his hands together, he was getting a kick out of the hairless monkey doing a little shit-slinging routine. Well, who am I to disappoint? I made sure to move away from the screen so that none of their eyes would track past me and to it inadvertently. Another thirty seconds and I thought I was going to pass out from my head going up and down so fast. I caught sight of BT, he shrugged. My little routine was starting to lose the Progs, but at least they were becoming more interested in the paltry basket we’d brought on board than the floor show.
I was about to whip up a grand finale just as a red glow came to the bridge. Figured it was about as good a time to quit as any. The Progs all raced back to their duty stations. Funny how red lights flashing means “alarm” to every race in the universe. There was a whole lot of button
mashing, dial turning, keyboard entry, levering of levers and whatever else is used to fly a ship. Everyone that was doing something continued to do so without any discernible result.
It was Dredmoor that spoke first. “Commander, we have lost control of the ship.”
As one, all eyes turned to me. I was already sweating bullets so it came as no surprise that I looked guilty as hell.
“What have you done?” Asuras took a step toward me. I reflexively stepped back.
Paul chose a wonderful time to show his mug on the main screen, and I’m telling you right now, that was not sarcasm. It pulled attention from myself and BT while we grabbed our weapons. Not that a nine mil was a super effective caliber against a bridge full of angry Progs but it beat tossing nasty words at them while we got beat senseless.
“This is General Ginson of the USS Guardian. We have commandeered control of your ship, the Vicieus, and reclassified it as the USS Striker. All non-essential personnel are asked to return to their quarters. Prepare to be boarded. If my men are met with any hostility, I will shut down life support to the entire ship until all aboard cease to breathe. Have I made myself clear?”
“Is this how you classify ‘peace,’ Michael Talbot?” Asuras was pissed off.
I had my pistol by my side. “I trust you to a point, Commander, but you have got to take a look at this from my side. You invade our world, almost completely destroy us, and then when you find out there is another enemy here that could potentially kick your ass you want to climb into bed with those you nearly wiped out of existence.”
“I gave you my word, Michael Talbot.”
“You did, Asuras, and there is a significant part of me that is sorry it is going down this way, but you yourself said that there are those on your home world that may not agree with your decision here. What happens to us if the accords we strike way out here just don't sit well back home? Humans are fresh out of second chances, Asuras; your kind have made that abundantly clear. To recover, Humans must always be one step ahead of our enemies; we must always take the initiative, we must somehow regain the upper hand. You have forced us into that position, and a cornered, wounded animal is a terribly savage thing.”
Asuras was not quite ready to throw the towel in. “General, we have three of your people on our ship.”
“You do. And they are prepared for that contingency. Each of them is armed and is also equipped with a cyanide pill ensuring them a quick and painless death should you attempt to take them captive.”
“I don’t have one of those pills,” BT said nervously next to me.
“What the fuck would you want one for anyway? They come for us and we’re fighting our way out. Fuck that foaming at the mouth shit.”
The doors to the bridge opened and Greggs was led in by a pair of guards. It was coming to a head. He gave me a thumbs up on the sly. Like I didn’t already know it had worked, or maybe just a sign of solidarity. Wasn’t sure quite how long our personal celebration was going to last.
“Would it not be better if our two kinds worked together instead of against?” Asuras asked.
He was going to get two vastly different answers depending on whether Paul or I spoke. I deferred to the general, considering he was the senior officer and had control of the ship. Anyway, why would Asuras believe a word I said at this point?
“I have not the smallest desire to work with your kind.” Paul did little to hide the derision in his voice. “The only reason we are not trading blows right now is because of the colonel that you are calling your captive.” Asuras looked over to me. “You see, he has what I consider a misguided soft spot for your kind. He thinks we share a great many traits; whereas I know you for the invasive monsters that you are. If Colonel Talbot, BT, and my sergeant weren’t aboard your ship, I would have already turned off that life support. They are the only things keeping you alive, Commander, so I suggest you treat them nice. I care nothing for you or your kind; it is merely your technology I want, and that only so I can further destroy more of you. How clear am I making myself?”
“Very.” Asuras was truly angry, one of those aforementioned cornered animals, and he didn’t need very many facial expressions—it was loud and clear by the set of his body and the tone of his voice. Maybe he would catch a ration of shit for attempting an alliance, but he would have sympathetic supporters due to the fact that it was designed to fight Stryvers. But to flat out lose a fully functional ship of battle? Well, that leaves egg on your face, no matter how good your intentions. For us, it was a huge victory; although I hadn’t a clue who was going to pilot this thing. It wasn’t like we had a plethora of starship pilots hanging around on earth.
“Colonel, I would like for you to oversee that non-essentials are indeed heading back to their quarters,” Paul said.
“Yes, sir,” I told him. I think he was in shock that I was obeying his order without question or at least a parting shot. I tread new ground almost every day. “You heard the man, Asuras, anybody that is not actively flying this ship gets to enjoy some early rack time.”
“Not that your kind places great value on the words that you speak, but I would still appreciate your insurance that my personnel will survive this.”
“General?” Ultimately I had to turn the question to him. I wasn’t going to be a commanding presence aboard this ship; I belonged on the ground. I was perfectly fine with being a grunt.
“It is my understanding, Commander, that Progerians are not known for deception. As much I would like for us to do this on our own, we are going to need help. If there are any among you that would like to fight alongside us against our common enemy, and we have their word of that intention, I will accept the help. If there are those that do not wish to stay aboard, I will have them shuttled to the surface safely. They will stay there to live as they chose in one of the cities your kind has leveled; perhaps they will garner a new understanding for the devastation they have wrought.”
“And what would you have us do when the next two Progerian ships come through?” Asuras asked.
“If they are enemies of humanity and you are aligned with us then I expect for them to be dealt with accordingly,” Paul said.
I watched as the Progs looked to each other. How could Paul not see the similarities in our mannerisms?
“We will not fire upon them; we cannot,” Asuras said in no uncertain terms.
“Then I expect you, and any others who cannot, to be aboard the shuttles, unless you can convince them to fight alongside us before they are within weapons distance.”
Wasn’t sure what Paul was thinking here. Allowing Asuras to talk terms with the new ships lost us the element of surprise. Paul was more of the blast the shit out of them and sift through the debris kind of guy when it came to Progs.
“I would like a private channel,” I told Greggs. “Move, Dredmoor,” I said to the beast. He was about as happy as you would expect him to be. I adjusted the giant sized headset as best I could; in the end, I still had to hold it up to my ear. “What’s going on, Paul?”
“We’re going to need to talk face to face; I can’t trust that this transmission is secure. What’s the mood over there?”
“You thinking of coming over here? Well, I don’t think they’re going to roll out a red carpet. No tea and definitely no crumpets.…possibly some Spam.”
“Mike.”
“What do you expect? Half of them aboard this ship don’t even know it’s been taken over, and the other half is pretty hot about it. I’d rather come over there.”
“No, I can’t take the risk that they’ll scuttle the ship. You need to keep an eye on things.”
I wanted to tell him I was more worried about BT, Greggs, and myself getting scuttled.
“Hurry up. And bring some damn soldiers.”
It was somewhere in the neighborhood of twelve years or twenty-five minutes before Paul and a small platoon of armed men appeared. For the majority of that time, the three of us conquerors hardly looked the part, as we stayed almost h
uddled together against the far wall as those we had vanquished glared menacingly at us.
“Let's just hope none of them start dancing around banging on shit,” I murmured.
“What if we offer them up Greggs as an appeasing sacrifice?” BT asked.
“I’m down with that,” I told him.
“I’m not really okay with that,” Greggs replied.
“Doesn’t matter.” I started. “I outrank you and the vote is two to one.”
“You’re going to order me to be eaten?”
“If I have to. I won’t feel good about it, but it sure beats me being eaten.”
“I have no doubt they could eat us all in under a minute.” BT summed it up nicely. Finally the brass arrived.
“Good work,” Paul said as he came over to us all and shook our hands. His men had fanned out and had taken control of the room.
“Commander,” Paul acknowledged the other leader. I noticed he stayed a safe distance away. I couldn’t be sure, but I got the distinct feeling Asuras was weighing the pros and cons of ending the general’s life.
“General.”
“Asuras,” I interceded, “perhaps you should get your senior officers in a council room and discuss your options. I had sidled up to Paul and brought my pistol up a few degrees. It wasn’t threatening yet, but the intent was clear, at least I hoped. I was thinking it would take an entire magazine to take him down and the damage he could inflict in the meantime would be severe.
Asuras pulled his attention from Paul. “Perhaps you are wise,” he said.
“General, if you could have a detail escort Asuras and his officers to his quarters that might be for the best,” I said.
Within a couple of minutes, only Humans remained on the bridge.
“She’s beautiful,” Paul said. There was a definite gleam in his eye. He was running his hand across the console like she was a long-lost love.
How could I begrudge him his joy? Here was a pristine warship ready to dole out justice to all those that had fucked with us. This was like Christmas and getting your day in court all at the same time. “You want some alone time, General?” I couldn’t help myself. BT spewed out the mouthful of water he was drinking.
Asuras studied my face, I could only hope he wasn’t as astute as Dee.
“Very well.” Asuras came over and grabbed a tin of the spam. “I would like to try this; it is apparently a delicacy among my people; at least according to transmissions from the Julipion.”
“Let’s get to it,” I said nervously. I’m sure I was an octave or seven higher than I should have been.
“Fucking smooth,” BT whispered as we were getting ready to follow Asuras to the bridge.
“Speaking of delicacy,” Greggs said, “I think I ate something that didn’t overly agree with me. Is there a place I could lay down with waste facilities nearby?”
“You are ill? I could summon a doctor.” Asuras had turned.
“I am lactose intolerant, Commander, yet I am a glutton for cheese; I can hardly resist it. The chef made a reasonable facsimile of a Swiss gruyere fondue and I could not refuse to accept. My stomach is going to protest my selection for an hour or two, and then I will be fine. I would just like to lie down in a darkened room and rue my choices for the day.”
“Of course, please feel free to use my quarters.” We went back about twenty feet and Asuras let him in. And just like that, our interface man was in position. I'll admit to a small level of guilt dealing this crap to the Progerians. They were so willing to take our words at face value, and we were so fucking willing to lie our pants off. Made the deception somehow more cringe worthy—like we were tricking a toddler out of his lollipop, kind of a greasy feel to it.
“Thank you,” Greggs said as he grabbed his stomach for effect. Lying bastard gave me a thumbs-up look before turning away.
There was a plus side, though, because I would never be able to trust them completely. I still was thinking this was a set-up of some sort, and it kept me on nervous alert. Guards were most assuredly going to come out of a hidden passageway and take Greggs prisoner the moment he hooked up the interface board. They were parceling out just enough rope for us to hang ourselves, before reeling us back in. They would wait patiently until I flipped open the hidden panel to turn on the cube. As soon as they detected the random signal they would turn on me and I would once again find myself a prisoner on a Prog ship, and this time there would be no escape. If I had to take a guess, I think our deaths would be swift and painful.
I didn’t fuck around. As we approached the bridge I put my finger in the hidden compartment. The moment we crossed the threshold I depressed the switch, and not a millisecond too soon as Asuras grabbed the box. I figured that this was it; he’d open it up and I’d get a heat blast to my back. I was bending over, heading for my nine millimeter when BT reached down to grab my shoulder. He had this huge fake shit-eating grin on his face.
“What the fuck you doing Talbot?” he asked out of the corner of his mouth.
“Uh, nothing,” I replied when I looked up and Asuras was parading the basket around, holding up a can of Spam like it was Dom Perignon and talking animatedly about the new peace between us. I sort of felt bad that I was planning on severely raining on said parade. I kept a watchful eye out on those officers sticking close to their consoles; one in particular seemed to be very curious about something he was seeing. “We might have a problem,” I said nodding to the Prog who had neither moved from his seat nor was watching the somewhat celebration behind him.
“You need to do something…he looks like he’s getting ready to throw up some red flags.”
I admit I panicked; it had not been my intention to do something racist—it was spontaneous, something I’d done as a kid when we played cowboys and Indians. I started whooping and hollering, clapping my fingers across my mouth in the classic movie genre way that I am pretty sure no Native American ever did. I even did a horrible rendition of their war dance around the fire; hopping on one leg, then the other...I’d watched them do this dozens of times in movies I watched with my father. The cool thing was, they bought the cultural hoopla just like my five year-old self-had.
BT wanted to ask me what I was doing, even though he must have recognized it for the diversion it was. As asinine as it was, the show was on and he had no choice but to play along. I was making a spectacle of myself; that was the point. The poindexter Prog had still not looked away so I circled around right behind him and went full throttle into my ceremonial brouhaha.
“It’s a Peace Dance!” BT blurted out. I nodded.
I made sure I bumped the Prog with my ass as I whooped louder. I was bobbing my head up and down and I was bringing my knees up high, in a running in place type of cavort, I guess. If I did this on earth, it would either start raining or I’d be getting locked up for a psych eval right about now. I bumped into the console officer again. I heard a low grumble, pretty sure he wanted to tear me in two. I don’t think I’d chewed up more than twenty seconds of the two minutes Greggs needed. Asuras right about now had to be wondering why he’d thrown his hat in with Humans; I was not making any headway towards dispelling any stereotypes or stigmas they may have had about us. BT had that slightly embarrassed, bloated look on his face—the kind where you can hardly bear to watch someone you know do something so exceedingly embarrassing, but you peek through splayed fingers because you also can't look away. I stopped the war-chant and went right into heavy metal head banging, even going so far as to play air drums.
BT finally reached his cringe quota and had actually partially turned away. I was using the console officer’s head as my imaginary drum, even though I had to reach up to do so. He was not amused in the least. Things changed the moment I missed…or more accurately hit what I imagined would have been a cymbal. I planted my forehead square into his shoulder at the same time my left hand came down on the top of his head. He stood like an ejector rocket had been activated on his chair. He squared up to me, his heavy arms hung down by his sides but his fists were balled up. He was about to end the suffering for all those that had to watch me move about with the grace of a drunken toddler. Now, I’m not saying I’ve ever seen a drunken toddler or that there should be such a thing; I’m saying that they are already a wobbly locomotion machine and if they should so happen to stumble across some fermented grape juice their resultant actions would be spectacularly awkward. I looked like that.
Closeted rock star that I am, I kept head-banging away, even playing a couple of drum notes on his stomach. If I only ended up with a concussion, a broken nose, and three busted out teeth after my solo, I would consider myself lucky. Asuras must have predicted my imminent visit to sick bay and interceded; similar to a host that removes a half-empty bottle of Jack from a guest making a move on his boss's wife.
“Dredmoor! Come and enjoy our new found peace with the Humans. Together we will soon defeat the Stryvers.”
Dredmoor took two heavy breaths and snorted at me once. I could see it in his posture that he would rather rip into me than smoke a peace pipe; just figured I would keep with the Native American theme. He turned and went to his senior officer, the funny blips or squiggles on his computer screen were momentarily forgotten. I’d been doing my routine for a full minute and I was about to call it quits; that shit is tiring. But Asuras actually clapped his hands together, he was getting a kick out of the hairless monkey doing a little shit-slinging routine. Well, who am I to disappoint? I made sure to move away from the screen so that none of their eyes would track past me and to it inadvertently. Another thirty seconds and I thought I was going to pass out from my head going up and down so fast. I caught sight of BT, he shrugged. My little routine was starting to lose the Progs, but at least they were becoming more interested in the paltry basket we’d brought on board than the floor show.
I was about to whip up a grand finale just as a red glow came to the bridge. Figured it was about as good a time to quit as any. The Progs all raced back to their duty stations. Funny how red lights flashing means “alarm” to every race in the universe. There was a whole lot of button
It was Dredmoor that spoke first. “Commander, we have lost control of the ship.”
As one, all eyes turned to me. I was already sweating bullets so it came as no surprise that I looked guilty as hell.
“What have you done?” Asuras took a step toward me. I reflexively stepped back.
Paul chose a wonderful time to show his mug on the main screen, and I’m telling you right now, that was not sarcasm. It pulled attention from myself and BT while we grabbed our weapons. Not that a nine mil was a super effective caliber against a bridge full of angry Progs but it beat tossing nasty words at them while we got beat senseless.
“This is General Ginson of the USS Guardian. We have commandeered control of your ship, the Vicieus, and reclassified it as the USS Striker. All non-essential personnel are asked to return to their quarters. Prepare to be boarded. If my men are met with any hostility, I will shut down life support to the entire ship until all aboard cease to breathe. Have I made myself clear?”
“Is this how you classify ‘peace,’ Michael Talbot?” Asuras was pissed off.
I had my pistol by my side. “I trust you to a point, Commander, but you have got to take a look at this from my side. You invade our world, almost completely destroy us, and then when you find out there is another enemy here that could potentially kick your ass you want to climb into bed with those you nearly wiped out of existence.”
“I gave you my word, Michael Talbot.”
“You did, Asuras, and there is a significant part of me that is sorry it is going down this way, but you yourself said that there are those on your home world that may not agree with your decision here. What happens to us if the accords we strike way out here just don't sit well back home? Humans are fresh out of second chances, Asuras; your kind have made that abundantly clear. To recover, Humans must always be one step ahead of our enemies; we must always take the initiative, we must somehow regain the upper hand. You have forced us into that position, and a cornered, wounded animal is a terribly savage thing.”
Asuras was not quite ready to throw the towel in. “General, we have three of your people on our ship.”
“You do. And they are prepared for that contingency. Each of them is armed and is also equipped with a cyanide pill ensuring them a quick and painless death should you attempt to take them captive.”
“I don’t have one of those pills,” BT said nervously next to me.
“What the fuck would you want one for anyway? They come for us and we’re fighting our way out. Fuck that foaming at the mouth shit.”
The doors to the bridge opened and Greggs was led in by a pair of guards. It was coming to a head. He gave me a thumbs up on the sly. Like I didn’t already know it had worked, or maybe just a sign of solidarity. Wasn’t sure quite how long our personal celebration was going to last.
“Would it not be better if our two kinds worked together instead of against?” Asuras asked.
He was going to get two vastly different answers depending on whether Paul or I spoke. I deferred to the general, considering he was the senior officer and had control of the ship. Anyway, why would Asuras believe a word I said at this point?
“I have not the smallest desire to work with your kind.” Paul did little to hide the derision in his voice. “The only reason we are not trading blows right now is because of the colonel that you are calling your captive.” Asuras looked over to me. “You see, he has what I consider a misguided soft spot for your kind. He thinks we share a great many traits; whereas I know you for the invasive monsters that you are. If Colonel Talbot, BT, and my sergeant weren’t aboard your ship, I would have already turned off that life support. They are the only things keeping you alive, Commander, so I suggest you treat them nice. I care nothing for you or your kind; it is merely your technology I want, and that only so I can further destroy more of you. How clear am I making myself?”
“Very.” Asuras was truly angry, one of those aforementioned cornered animals, and he didn’t need very many facial expressions—it was loud and clear by the set of his body and the tone of his voice. Maybe he would catch a ration of shit for attempting an alliance, but he would have sympathetic supporters due to the fact that it was designed to fight Stryvers. But to flat out lose a fully functional ship of battle? Well, that leaves egg on your face, no matter how good your intentions. For us, it was a huge victory; although I hadn’t a clue who was going to pilot this thing. It wasn’t like we had a plethora of starship pilots hanging around on earth.
“Colonel, I would like for you to oversee that non-essentials are indeed heading back to their quarters,” Paul said.
“Yes, sir,” I told him. I think he was in shock that I was obeying his order without question or at least a parting shot. I tread new ground almost every day. “You heard the man, Asuras, anybody that is not actively flying this ship gets to enjoy some early rack time.”
“Not that your kind places great value on the words that you speak, but I would still appreciate your insurance that my personnel will survive this.”
“General?” Ultimately I had to turn the question to him. I wasn’t going to be a commanding presence aboard this ship; I belonged on the ground. I was perfectly fine with being a grunt.
“It is my understanding, Commander, that Progerians are not known for deception. As much I would like for us to do this on our own, we are going to need help. If there are any among you that would like to fight alongside us against our common enemy, and we have their word of that intention, I will accept the help. If there are those that do not wish to stay aboard, I will have them shuttled to the surface safely. They will stay there to live as they chose in one of the cities your kind has leveled; perhaps they will garner a new understanding for the devastation they have wrought.”
“And what would you have us do when the next two Progerian ships come through?” Asuras asked.
“If they are enemies of humanity and you are aligned with us then I expect for them to be dealt with accordingly,” Paul said.
I watched as the Progs looked to each other. How could Paul not see the similarities in our mannerisms?
“We will not fire upon them; we cannot,” Asuras said in no uncertain terms.
“Then I expect you, and any others who cannot, to be aboard the shuttles, unless you can convince them to fight alongside us before they are within weapons distance.”
Wasn’t sure what Paul was thinking here. Allowing Asuras to talk terms with the new ships lost us the element of surprise. Paul was more of the blast the shit out of them and sift through the debris kind of guy when it came to Progs.
“I would like a private channel,” I told Greggs. “Move, Dredmoor,” I said to the beast. He was about as happy as you would expect him to be. I adjusted the giant sized headset as best I could; in the end, I still had to hold it up to my ear. “What’s going on, Paul?”
“We’re going to need to talk face to face; I can’t trust that this transmission is secure. What’s the mood over there?”
“You thinking of coming over here? Well, I don’t think they’re going to roll out a red carpet. No tea and definitely no crumpets.…possibly some Spam.”
“Mike.”
“What do you expect? Half of them aboard this ship don’t even know it’s been taken over, and the other half is pretty hot about it. I’d rather come over there.”
“No, I can’t take the risk that they’ll scuttle the ship. You need to keep an eye on things.”
I wanted to tell him I was more worried about BT, Greggs, and myself getting scuttled.
“Hurry up. And bring some damn soldiers.”
It was somewhere in the neighborhood of twelve years or twenty-five minutes before Paul and a small platoon of armed men appeared. For the majority of that time, the three of us conquerors hardly looked the part, as we stayed almost h
“Let's just hope none of them start dancing around banging on shit,” I murmured.
“What if we offer them up Greggs as an appeasing sacrifice?” BT asked.
“I’m down with that,” I told him.
“I’m not really okay with that,” Greggs replied.
“Doesn’t matter.” I started. “I outrank you and the vote is two to one.”
“You’re going to order me to be eaten?”
“If I have to. I won’t feel good about it, but it sure beats me being eaten.”
“I have no doubt they could eat us all in under a minute.” BT summed it up nicely. Finally the brass arrived.
“Good work,” Paul said as he came over to us all and shook our hands. His men had fanned out and had taken control of the room.
“Commander,” Paul acknowledged the other leader. I noticed he stayed a safe distance away. I couldn’t be sure, but I got the distinct feeling Asuras was weighing the pros and cons of ending the general’s life.
“General.”
“Asuras,” I interceded, “perhaps you should get your senior officers in a council room and discuss your options. I had sidled up to Paul and brought my pistol up a few degrees. It wasn’t threatening yet, but the intent was clear, at least I hoped. I was thinking it would take an entire magazine to take him down and the damage he could inflict in the meantime would be severe.
Asuras pulled his attention from Paul. “Perhaps you are wise,” he said.
“General, if you could have a detail escort Asuras and his officers to his quarters that might be for the best,” I said.
Within a couple of minutes, only Humans remained on the bridge.
“She’s beautiful,” Paul said. There was a definite gleam in his eye. He was running his hand across the console like she was a long-lost love.
How could I begrudge him his joy? Here was a pristine warship ready to dole out justice to all those that had fucked with us. This was like Christmas and getting your day in court all at the same time. “You want some alone time, General?” I couldn’t help myself. BT spewed out the mouthful of water he was drinking.