All characters depicted in this work of fiction are of legal age of consent.

<<Previous| ** “Beguile at Farpoint" ** |Next>>

Thom had first world problems in the worst possible way. And this was amplified by his plethora of problems that theoretically should have been a priority.

He had a ship with an FTL drive tearing apart at the seams. There was a nasty warlord out to capture Jinory and willing to kill anyone in her path to do so.

And Thom's concerns were oddly restricted to: 'how did Jinory and her gal-pals get a hold of my old pop music playlist, and why did their hobby have to be choreographed dance?'

The song Sammi had dug out of Thom's terabytes of music was an old favourite. A pop princess strumming a nostalgic tune about a fairy-tale romance described through even more nostalgic musical allegories. At least he'd picked something catchy.

And synchronised to the boppy beat, Jinory and the girls built a decent routine around the song.

It was the culmination of three weeks repetition. Arranged in what the military fighter pilot in Thom considered a loose diamond formation, Jinory, Taenya, Vaelia and even Gemini moved in perfect synchronicity. It reminded Thom of the first time he'd attended an airshow and seen four orbital interceptors perform a zero-gravity barrel roll at mach-three with as little as three metres of wing-clearance between one another. All it would take was one of them to lose focus and they'd give someone a black eye.

And yet between gyrating twirls, flourishes of the arms that seemed to draw attention to the way they cocked their legs and swayed their hips, the girls didn't miss a beat. At every pause they'd freeze, at every slow moment in the song their movements changed from rapid-fire jumps between poses into sleek serpentine flexes running from their necks down to their hips. And when the song picked up, so did they.

In fact, the only one not smiling was Gemini, her face holding its austere expression of intense focus. And while it seemed she was focused on the workout, the other girls were beaming and giggling at the rush of getting their movements just right.

At this point, anyone would probably be thinking why the girls were doing this. And to that even Thom would simply answer: why not? Everyone needed a hobby it seemed. And normally Thom wouldn't normally mind, despite the fact his mess hall had been appropriated by a flash mob of hot alien girls in yoga pants. The only downside to this all was the risk of impromptu erections.

Jinory and her troupe were putting on a subconsciously sexy display to say the least. The last notes of the song couldn't come sooner, and on the final beat each of them threw up a different pose.

As the girls celebrated with a quick round of high-fives, Jinory turned and spotted Thom leaned against the doorpost.

“Hello, Thom," she greeted cheerfully in Sol Common, just a little out of breath.

Vaelia had been tutoring her fellows in learning the language, and they were all picking it up quite quickly. Jinory wasn't a natural in the language like Vaelia, but she was getting there faster than the others. Though she was a Caushae princess after all. Not only did she win the genetic lottery in good looks, she was bright too. All that expensive home schooling preparing her for inter-planetary diplomacy had obviously done its wonders.

Thom pushed off the doorpost and nodded, hoping he didn't look like a pervert. “So what have you got going on here?"

Spotting him now, Vaelia turned and smiled. “Oh, just a hobby of ours. Gemini does our choreography."

“No kidding," Thom chortled. “I wouldn't have thought you a dancer."

“Physical and mental unity builds discipline," Gemini explained, brushing past the human.

“Right. Well, I thought you weirdos would like to know, we're approaching Farpoint now." Thom pointed a thumb over his shoulder, then led them all to the bridge.

Gemini was there already, as if predicting the news. She leaned over the co-pilot's console, and Thom had to consciously look away to avoid his eyes being drawn to the way the tight lyra of her pants pulled over her shapely rear.

As he climbed into the pilot seat, Thom spun up primary navigation controls. “Talk to me, Al."

“Ready to fold into realspace. Jump accuracy within a three-percent error margin. That is of course the difference between materialising in high orbit or inside the sun."

“Which scenario would be more likely?" Vaelia asked.

“Inside the sun. Definitely inside the sun."

Thom wagged his eyebrows as he throttled the FTL power. “Here's hoping the hyper-accurate computer is wrong."

The Ronin rumbled and shuddered. The deceleration was noticeable and everybody braced so they wouldn't be flung across the bridge. Thom was shifted forwards into his harness as the ship shuddered and rattled disconcertingly.

They folded back into realspace in the blink of an eye. Thankfully not inside a burning star.

The bizarre crisscross colours of FTL faded in the viewport and light of Farpoint resolved almost blindingly. Thom's eyes took a moment to adjust before the familiar glow of Farpoint's dwarf star glinted off the brass and silver fittings of the colony's solar filters. Enormous tinted lenses hung in mechanical structures between the lush world of Farpoint and the deadly light of the sun. A hundred years ago before the solar filters the wold had been a UV polluted wasteland. But after some human ingenuity, Farpoint had become the tactical trade gateway between the inner systems and the now prosperous frontier.

The view was framed by two nimble craft moving up along the Ronin's flanks. The vectored thrusters tightened about the ball of flickering blue light and the two TAFT starfighters pulled slightly ahead.

“Al?" Thom asked slowly, slightly concerned by the two hunter-killers getting in his face.

“TAFT is squawking on channel Echo-six-four. Patching now."

The terse incoming message from an austere woman with the stick of a high speed starfighter between her thighs resolved as sharp as the blade-like nip of her voice. “SSG vessel, state your name and intent. You have three seconds to comply."

Thom chuckled. “Hello to you too, beautiful." Thankfully he hadn't hit the PTT on the comms just yet, and quickly fumbled to straighten a headset on his head before broadcasting his actual reply. “TAFT escort, this is the SSG Starcast Ronin with supplies for Farpoint. Requesting vector to the strip and contact with Farpoint tower."

The pause was tangible, and Thom caught Gemini edging her way to the weapons station. He quickly waved her off, but understood her nervousness considering everything she'd been through thus far. But 'The Alliance of Federal Territories' was the military arm of the Sol Accord. TAFT had one job. Protect humanity's assets in and around the Sol System. It was a tough job, Thom knew. He'd been counted among the ranks of the few, brave and bold… once upon a time.

He knew how they worked, knew the stress the organisation as a whole was under. He didn't blame the starfighter pilot for her impatience. She was probably lightyears from her home and family and hopped up on stims as she flew an extended patrol in the tight confines of a stuffy cockpit.

“Identity confirmed. You're late, Starcast Ronin." The pilot finally replied, her voice a little less stony. “Farpoint tower is squawking on channel Foxtrot-two-two. Maintain current vector to the docking rings."

Al kicked into action, contacting the tower for further instructions, pulsing docking thrusters and nudging them closer to Farpoint. The starfighters each quart-rolled away from each other and whipped out of view entirely.

The moon slid by on the port flank as they approached Farpoint. Jutting from the small grey orb of rock were the towers and habitats of the local TAFT base. Hidden from the sun on the shadow side of the moon it didn't glint the way the various alloys and solar arrays the Farpoint beanstalk did.

Funny name for an orbital docking platform, but it was apt all the same. The beanstalk connected the orbital docks with the surface of Farpoint by space elevator. This way cargo and personnel could be transported in and out of orbit without wasting precious fuel resources. Something usually in limited supply out here on the frontier.

As the lunar military base moved out of view and the beanstalk grew, Thom pointed off to the port side. “I gotta see a man about a dog on Farpoint first. After that we'll request a docking vector at the TAFT facility."

“What if they refuse to see us?" Vaelia asked gently.

Thom just shrugged. “I still got a few friends enlisted. They'll make something happen, don't worry."

As Al brought them into the docking rings, Thom slid out of his seat. He'd seen this thousands of times before. Sammi and the girls were no doubt entranced by the silent ballet of massive ships dancing about the beanstalk. Sleek freighters and mercenary cruisers slid this way and that, while Al ducked and banked them into place. By the time Thom was out of his chair there was a thud of the docking tube making contact with the external airlock. Without a doubt Al was already co-ordinating with robotic precision a team of engineers to board and take a look at the FTL drive, while at the same time calling in skiffs to collect the cargo and bring up fresh crew supplies.

A whole checklist of crap needed doing, the kind of stuff Thom never much looked forward to when on these long hauls. Usually the only thing he looked forward to was hitting the bar and trading tall tales of space-travel with other interstellar adventurers. Unfortunately, things like pumping the on-board sewage, resupplying food and water, swapping CO2 filters and much more was usually the first order of business out here. Now he had a drive refit to add to the long list of pending chores before he could even address the political quagmire he and his new friends were in.

“Vaelia, you should probably come with me," Thom noted as he brushed past the griffin. “You can help explain the situation to my employer. It'll be a few minutes before the next elevator from the surface gets here. You can change before we head down."

The girl looked down at herself and shrugged. “Why? What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

Thom froze in the door and looked back, trying to make it not so obvious he was scanning her from her cropped top all the way down along her slender lycra-clad legs. Feeling suddenly cold just seeing her in scant attire, Thom held his tongue and went to fetch his jacket.

*****{{~~~}}*****

The base of the orbital elevator was about as welcoming as any space port. Metal detectors, sniffer dogs and burly security-dudes every ten metres. But beyond that, the foyer was actually a pleasant enough space. It wasn't just humans passing through the frontier either. Farstand was a hub of diverse activity, various alien traders moving about the foyer.

A family of aliens like Vaelia gave a bewildered greeting as they passed before she beamed at Thom. “I'm surprised there's so many non-humans on this world."

Thom shrugged. “Humans are generally a multicultural bunch. We like making friendships and keeping them, especially when it's beneficial."

As he led Vaelia towards the SSG offices on the north side of the foyer, he turned to indicate the space elevator. “FTL drives, beanstalks, even the solar filtering array" – he pointed at the sun, but made a point not to look into the ball of atomic fire – “all technology inherited from trade with the Caushae."

“What about the Ronin's weapon systems?" Vaelia asked. “Gemini mentioned they were familiar."

“Ah, yeah. We kind of borrowed those from Lycans." He gave her a sidelong glance then added, “Sort of 'borrowed without permission' as we used to say in the Signal Corps."

“Did you spend long in TAFT?"

“Long enough," Thom replied shortly. “How about you? Any military experience?"

Vaelia shook her head to his surprise. Her skills with languages, he had assumed she'd been some sort of alien military 'terp. “Gemini was in the Lycan military, but jumped ship. She doesn't like to talk about it. She picked up me and Sammi on a planet torn apart by Lycan in-fighting; we were drifters just looking to see the stars caught up in a conflict. She taught us to defend ourselves, we liberated our first ship together and have been floating between the Caushae systems taking on jobs ever since. It was only when we met Jinory that we really started picking a side."

“She seems nice," Thom commented, holding a door open for her, and Vaelia chuckled with a shake of her head.

“Thanks… no, Jinory is more than that. She's the real deal. She believes in reforming the Caushae Sovereignty. And with her connections, popularity among the Caushae systems… she could actually do it."

Still at the edge of the SSG reception area, Thom stopped her with a hand on her arm. He looked around to make sure nobody was listening. “Is that why Krux is after her?"

Vaelia paused, then nodded. “There's a rebellion rising up against the Royal Dominion all over Caushae space. They were rallied by Jinory. But if Krux captures or kills Jinory, their hero, their banner under which the reformist systems are rallied, will be gone. They'll break, and nothing will stand against the Dominion."

Thom narrowed his eyes for a second. “Well, that's not going to happen." He nodded at the prim looking girl sitting a the reception desk, then added, “We'll deal with our business here, then we'll speak with TAFT. The Caushae are still allies, and if they're being exterminated by a rogue faction then TAFT's going to roll in and smoke-check some fools."

Vaelia chuckled, despite only half-catching his colourful vocabulary.

Brushing back an errant feather sticking out on her crown, Vaelia eyed Thom sheepishly before stepping closer and wrapping him into a hug. Although it was probably better described as a bear-hug, considering she trapped his arms down his sides and rested her head on his chest. Her large eyes peered up at him quite innocently as she held him close for a protracted moment, catching Thom off guard.

“Thank you, Thom. For everything you're doing. You didn't have to help us, but you are. And I really appreciate it."

Thom cleared his throat, glad Vaelia had changed before they left the Ronin. Were it not for the polo-neck of her jumpsuit he surely would have been looking straight down into her cleavage. Still, the suit and even the jacket not too dissimilar to Thom's were flattering to say the least. And where she hugged him Thom was painfully aware of her firm breasts squashing against him.

When she finally let go, he rubbed his neck, then nodded to the reception desk. “How about we get this over with?"

Thom led Vaelia past the receptionist with a casual wave. The lady behind the desk seemed to be about to say something, but scanning his face froze with an expression of shock. Vaelia couldn't figure out why exactly, but figured it may have had something to do with Thom's delay. He was due to arrive on Farpoint weeks ago. The Sol Space Guild probably assumed he was dead. You didn't usually get lost in space and come out the end smelling of roses.

Without even waiting to be let in, Thom moved past the receptionist and pushed through a door with a  brass plaque identifying the office belonging to Director Bru. Inside was quite rustically decorated. Lots of dark stained wood panels and an old oak desk dominating the large space. No doubt all of it was synthetic, no way in hell a frontier world would waste a resource like wood on making furniture. Then again, Bru himself looked like the level of millionaire who could probably afford to do so.

A short fellow, built wide and round with the buttons of his suit jacket strained to the point Vaelia feared the button might pop and gut-shot someone. A shock of greasy hair sat in matted layers over the top of his potato like head, and his eyes seemed magnified out of proportion through his thick glasses. It was impossible to tell if he was surprised to see Thom until he opened his mouth.

“Crichton!" he called, the shock evident in his voice. “What… how?"

“Relax, man. I'm only a few days late," Thom said.

“Weeks," Vaelia corrected softly, making him shrug.

“Details, woman."

Bru seemed stuck on the first syllable of “who," his eyes darting between the lost captain and the alien in his office before he settled on Thom. “How did you… I mean… an FTL malfunction is no light matter! How are you here?"

“C'mon, you know me better than that," Thom chuckled. “I fixed… it…"

As quickly as he barged in to make conversation with the director of local SSG operations, Thom very quickly trailed off. Bru's comment got the noggin joggin', albeit quite slowly as Thom processed that comment about the FTL malfunction.

Frowning, Thom glanced at Vaelia then cocked his head. “Wait, how did you know the Ronin had a FTL malfunction? I haven't even filed my report yet… hell, beanstalk engineers haven't even filed theirs yet."

Bru didn't say anything, rising out of his chair and shifting a little uncomfortable. As he did, Thom thought of something Al had said about the diagnostics. An 'erroneous maintenance fault.' Slowly but surely, the cogs in his head turned over as Thom watched Bru's expression.

“What did you do?"

“Now, Thom. You have to understand…" Bru held up his hands as Thom took a threatening step forward.

“What the hell did you do, Bru!?" he yelled now, having no doubt the secretary heard and was pinging security.

“Understand, Thom, I like you. You're a great captain. Self-sufficient, driven. But the Starcast Ronin is a drain on funds," Bru's voice was shaking, disarming Thom, but not by much. “The maintenance and fuel costs the SSG spends on the Ronin versus the amount of cargo she can displace is not making the investors happy. We're spending more keeping that prowler running than what the Ronin earns us. We saw an opportunity in the interstellar travel insurance. A payout in the wake of a catastrophic accident would more than make up for the amount of money the Ronin has been haemorrhaging as of late."

“Haemorrhaging money? Miss me with that shit, Bru!" Thom yelled, angry now. “That's my ship! My home! You were just going to blow us up? Me and Al? We're your friends, you piece of shit! We were on Earth just a few months ago celebrating your son's bar mitzvah together!"

There was no holding him back, and he shrugged off Vaelia who touched his shoulder. Thom rushed forward to round the desk and put Bru on the deck. And he would have, old friend or not, if Bru hadn't stooped and pulled something from a nearby drawer.

Levelling a tiny blaster in one hand, Thom would have written the thing off as a toy and proceeded to punch Bru in his stupid mouth; if it wasn't for the very real whine of energy emitted from the little pistol. He froze and held up his hands, though reluctantly, before backing off.

“It's not personal, Thom," Bru said almost too calm for a man admitting to attempted murder, and now holding a gun on the duo. He flashed the pistol sideways to warn off Vaelia in case she got any ideas. “It's just business."

“Fuck-knuckles, aim that gun here if you're going to point it at someone," Thom snarled, taking a step forward.

Bru obliged him, Vaelia's gut tightening. She hated seeing a gun being pointed at him as much as Thom hated seeing a gun pointed at her. She wanted to say something, but trembling with a mixture of fear and shock at what the scenario had developed into, Vaelia couldn't find her voice. First Krux was hunting her and her friends and now this? Was there nobody trustworthy left in the galaxy!?

She purged the thought and took a long lingering look at the determined and angry expression on Thom's face. There was one person she trusted. One who'd earned it without question.

Behind them, the doors to the office burst open. Several humans filed into the room. SSG security one might assume, but only on first glance.

The biggest of them, a man with no neck and what looked more like another pair of legs rather than arms sprouting from his shoulders, clapped a massive hand on Thom's shoulder. The gesture was meant to be light, but the sheer heft of the guy's digits alone were nearly enough to make his knees buckle. His five friends that joined him as part of the 'security' team looked equally dubious. None of them were shaved, one had a bionic eye-patch and were all conveniently missing their official security contract credentials.

“Well, these certainly look like a bunch of hard-working, upstanding fellows," Thom commented.

He knew mercenaries when he saw them. Not that he had anything against mercenaries. Vaelia and her peeps were mercs after all. Thom just wasn't so naïve to think just because one dog was a good boy didn't mean the next dog you met wouldn't maul your face off.

“Take them to the Ronin," Bru ordered the mercenaries as they pulled Thom and Vaelia back. As he relayed the orders, he produced a thumb drive and threw it to the big guy. “Use this virus to keep the on-board AI subdued. Make sure to execute the crew once you get on board, then set the ship adrift. The virus will cause an FTL malfunction once they're out of Farpoint's orbit."

The mercs all nodded, confirming they understand, then started pulling their captives away.

“Goodbye, Crichton," Bru said, lowering his gun.

“Suck the barrel of your little girl-gun, 'ya friggin' pansy!" Thom snapped back as he was dragged from the room.

They bypassed the foyer entirely, taking the halls usually reserved for maintenance and security and moved through the VIP checkpoint directly to the space elevator. Only one security guard, no doubt another merc on Bru's payroll let them through and temporarily waved off the queue of people waiting for transit into orbit. Thom heard a comment in passing, something about security protocol for the deportation of criminals.

The space elevator was unironically spacious. Intended to be as efficient as possible, the chamber could hold several tonnes of cargo n the central rings, with the open plan outer rings padded with enough seating to house at least two hundred people. The idea was to run the elevator back and forth as little as possible.

As such, today's ride into orbit could be considered sinfully wasteful, considering it was just the six mercs, Thom and Vaelia on board.

A mercenary swiped his hand over one of the control panels. The ground shifted in response and the elevator began to climb.

“About ten minutes to the top," the big guy said gruffly, shoving Thom towards one of the benches. “Take a seat."

Thom scoffed and turned to face him, fists clenched in defiance. “Make me, fat-body."

The insult made the man snarl before he glanced at his nearest merc friend. The skinnier fellow nodded and immediately grabbed Vaelia from behind. She gasped with surprise and struggled as he wrapped her into a chokehold that looked immensely uncomfortable.

“Take a seat or we wring the little birdy's neck," the big guy warned, sounding smug now.

Thom gritted his teeth, eyeing Vaelia. She watched him back, intently. And then he noted her glance shift as she eyed he guys behind Thom. Thom gave a discreet glance, then slacked as if defeated. It put the mercs at just enough ease.

Thom dashed forward, driving his knee up between the big guy's legs, making his eyes bulge with pain. Thom at the same time pulled the mercenary's pistol from its holster, and keeping the weapon drawn up to his chest in two hands, let loose two shots that tore into the merc's lungs. The force of the blaster's shots toppled him backwards before a third passed through his skull, punching his ticket for good.

The world seemed to move at an abnormally slow pace as Thom turned to Vaelia's captor, driving the pistol outward so he could line up the iron sights. He had to be accurate so not to hurt Vaelia. But it seemed the young lady didn't need taking care of at all.

As if seeing Thom's leap into action coming, Vaelia reacted accordingly. She kicked off one of the nearby couches and flipped backwards with a single flap of her wings. She passed clean over the merc's head, slipping his grip and landing on his back, her arms wrapped around his neck, reversing the stranglehold.

Her technique was impressive. She locked the crook of her arm around his throat, locked her hand around her opposite arm as she brought it up to grab him by the back of the head. The simplest of lever principles closed his wind-pipe and Vaelia dragged him to the ground, choking the man out with nearly no effort at all.

Whipping around, Thom ducked and sidestepped as the other mercs were drawing their guns. Two quick shots found their targets, snapping the heads of the nearest two mercenaries backwards before they crumpled. The third managed to clear his blaster from the holster and draw a bead by the time Thom was on him, but he didn't get the chance to pull the trigger. Thom redirected the pistol in a safe direction before it discharged, gutting a wall-locker. Thom at the same time feathered the trigger of his own weapon, putting two shots into the man's gut. Behind him the last merc was trying to aim and sidestep his buddy.

Too slow though. Leaning aside, Thom caught him off guard and passed two more shots out the barrel of his blaster. The first hit the man in the shoulder, turning him into a spin. Thom adjusted in time for the kill-shot and caught him in the side of the head as he fell.

All the mercs on the ground in less than a few seconds, Thom followed through with one last shot to finish off one of the floored mercenaries.

As he turned, Vaelia was clambering breathlessly to her feet, a silent mercenary at her feet.

“That was unpleasant," she said, kneeling by the unconscious merc and appropriating his pistol and ammo.

“Yeah, no kidding," Thom said, dumping the spent mag in his blaster with a casual sidelong flick. Scavenging some ammo, he glanced up through the glass ceiling the elevator, the top of the beanstalk becoming visible as the atmosphere thinned.

He quickly pinged the Ronin. “Al, we have a problem."

*****{{~~~}}*****

“Gemini, we have a problem."

Gemini perked up, Al noted, as he spoke in her native Lycan. He'd connected to the SolNet through Farpoint's hyperspace relays and downloaded some universal translation programs. Gemini and her crew were picking up Sol Common well enough, but he figured this would make a good backup just in case they needed to communicate more urgently.

And with what Thom just sent him, urgency was definitely on the menu.

Explaining the whole situation to Gemini didn't take long. She was definitely former military, and soaked up the information about the SSG's plot against Thom in an instant. She agreed, it wouldn't be a stretch of the imagination to assume if the SSG wanted Thom gone, they wouldn't hesitate to kill her and the others as well.

“Is Thom on his way back?" she asked.

“Affirmative. As soon as he is aboard we'll make a hard burn for the TAFT facility for assistance."

“Agreed. In the meantime, what about our guests?" Gemini left her post on the bridge and moved aft.

The airlock hung open, the hall stacked with crates with spare parts and boxes full of tools. Many more bits and pieces had been moved into the engineering module, but after their initial inspection of the FTL drive the engineers busied themselves ferrying gear on board before they started their work.

Unfortunately as desperate as the crew of the Ronin were for repairs, time was up.

As the engineers were coming back aboard, Gemini put herself in the airlock and held up a hand, shaking her head. The men blinked at the Lycan confused.

“Gentlemen," Al announced in a Farpoint dialect of Sol Common. “Your services will not be required. You will leave the parts and equipment and vacate the ship, immediately."

The lead engineer frowned. “But the FTL drive is still a mess."

“Leave of your own accord, or I will ask my angry Lycan friend to remove you."

Their eyes turned to Gemini who peeled back her lips and snarled like a hungry wolf, just to make a point. Their hesitation gone, the engineers dropped their gear and made themselves scarce. As soon as they were gone, Gemini closed the outer door then cleared the airlock. As she was sliding in the last toolbox, Taenya and Sammi came from the crew quarters, curious about the commotion.

“Captain, what's going on?" Taenya asked.

“Trouble, as usual. Thom and Vaelia are coming back with haste. We have to run as soon as they're aboard," Gemini explained quickly. “Sammi, see what you can do about bringing the FTL drive online at least. At most get us in a position so we can emergency fold into hyperspace."

“Aye, captain." Sammi quickly snapped a salute then dove through the cargo spine to get started.

“Taenya, fetch Jinory and meet me on the bridge," Gemini added before bounding back to the conn. The mouse girl was off to quickly fetch the princess.

As she slid into the captain's chair, Al fed Gemini sensors, comms and the Ronin's readiness status. He purposely withheld navigation control, and Gemini noticed. Still, she chuckled.

“Don't worry, Al. We're not leaving Vaelia or Thom. We just have to be ready for…"

Gemini trailed off, something on the sensor readouts catching her eye. Particle excitement on the edge of the Farpoint gravitational influence. A second later exotic radiation spilled into space and Gemini knew immediately what would follow. She punched up external cameras, directed them towards the lunar orbit and zoomed in.

A crescent of the lunar horizon took the foreground, some of the TAFT facility's defence towers in view. And in the background, the sprawl of stars twinkling in the vast expanse of space were washed out by white light vomiting into existence. An instant later a ship folded into realspace, its immense proportions filling the view to the point Gemini had to zoom out.

The profile was impossible to mistake with the naked eye. It was the Killmonger.

Before TAFT could even scramble starfigthers to intercept, the massive ship gave the lunar facility a full broadside. A ripple of miniature suns lit up along the Killmonger's side, each gun sending lances of focused energy down into the TAFT facility. Buildings crumpled, burst apart and were consumed in brief, flickering fireballs. Debris and massive talons of dust were blown up into the moon's orbit, hazing the space all about the crater of decimation that the Killmonger reduced the military base to.

The Killmonger didn't stick around to admire its own handiwork. Rear guns giving the helpless facility a final strafing of missiles, the warship turned menacingly in their direction and began it's crawl towards Farpoint.

“That's not good," Gemeni commented, charging engines and bringing the Ronin up to combat readiness.

“Thom," Al broadcasted on comms in the meantime. “We have a problem."

*****{{~~~}}*****

“Yeah, no kidding!" Thom yelled back at Al before leaning around a crate and returning fire.

Up and down the corridor connecting the space elevator with the outer docking rings, Vaelia and Thom traded shots with more of Bru's hired help. A whole squad of them had been waiting for them at the top of the beanstalk.

Thankfully it seemed Vaelia could handle herself in a gunfight, and working together, taking turns between suppressing fire and bounding, they were able to manoeuvre up the corridor, sweating the mercs out for every inch. But eventually Thom and Vaelia ran out of cover, and fighting side by side on opposite ends of the wide glass corridor, they were finally pinned by a pulse rifle roaring at them from downrange. Neither of them could pop out for very long to get a bead on the shooter before sustained bursts forced them back into cover.

A pulse round singed Thom's sleeve and he ducked back to dump an empty battery pack from his blaster. Vaelia at the same time slid a spare into the handle of her own pistol then racked the slide, the capacitors pre-charging with a muted 'bweeee!'

Finishing his own reload, Thom considered backtracking. But as he did another withering torrent of pulse rifle fire filled the corridor. Any attempt to retreat would cut them to shreds, and it would only be a matter of time before he and Vaelia ran out of ammo, or the mercenaries got brace enough to close with and destroy them.

Looking past Vaelia and out into space through the window behind her, Thom saw something that didn't much add any comfort to the predicament. Sliding through space was the tell-tale hulk of death, the Killmonger. Her gun-bristled prow was pointed directly at them, perhaps over a hundred thousand kilometres away, but she'd no doubt carry General Krux on top of their position in just a few short minutes.

Thom had to think quick. And unfortunately as he spotted an emergency EVA mask nearby, Thom could think of only one escape plan.

“Aw, crap," he sighed, then leaned over and put his elbow through the emergency glass.

Teary the EVA mask from the cubby, Thom waited for a break in the fire then threw himself forward. He cross the corridor, gun out and blasting madly in the direction of the mercs to keep them from getting ideas, then threw himself into cover beside Vaelia before the pulse rifle started throwing mad shade again.

He thrust the mask into her hand then flicked down the peak of his cap. The visor folded down then immediately started forming his EVA helmet, before locking about his collar with a hermetic hiss as he zipped up his jacket.

“How are we going to get out of this?" Vaelia cried, looking at the EVA mask in confusion.

“Hit the diff and pray," Thom answered cryptically as he thumbed the charge dial on his blaster to full.

Crimson warning lights lit up across the side of the gun before he aimed a had and shot directly into the vacuum tempered glass. The focused shot of superheated light slammed into the glass turning a good portion to slag, compromising the structure of the window entirely. There was a squeal as atmosphere started whistling through a tiny hole that had bored through, and as the pressure of the interior atmosphere rushed out into the vacuum of space more splits and cracks started forming across the window.

Suddenly realising where they were going, Vaelia gasped then jammed the mask over her face. The seal closed around the back of her head instantly, thankfully the respirator being large enough to fit her beak. The moment she sealed and pressurised her own jacket for EVA, the window gave out immediately and burst out into space in a shower of glittering grains of crystal.

The force of the station's atmosphere being sucked out into space was enough to pluck Thom and Vaelia off their feet and throw them out into the vacuum, before the emergency doors sealed the breach behind them. Like toys flung by a toddler they spiralled uncontrollably through space, the vector they were thrown on narrowly missing one of the comms arrays. The view through Thom's visor was so dizzying he nearly threw up.

It alternated between the beanstalk, space, Farpoint, back to space, then beanstalk, space, beanstalk, space, Farpoint again… his human inner ear couldn't make any damn sense of what was happening in zero-gravity, but what his eyes were able to translate turned his stomach and made him feel unnecessarily small in the vast expanse of vacuum stretching for infinity in every direction.

Blocking his visor, Thom clicked his heels together and kicked on his RCS. The fuel pressure dropped a good chunk as he overrode the training wheels and gave full thrust tot eh stabilisers, arresting his rollercoaster tumble as quickly as possible. Only then did he dare open his visor optics again, then scanned space for Vaelia.

She wasn't far away, still spinning, and pinging into her comms, Thom was nearly deafened by her disoriented scream.

“Vaelia, hang on!" he cried, then righting himself went into full-burn again, jetting after her. “Al, we can never come to this planet again!"

“I will add it to the list." Al responded coolly. “Secure and away. Rendezvous for pickup in thirty seconds."

“You're gonna have to come to us, buddy," Thom added with a nervous glance at his fuel gage. RCS pressure was dropping past green and into amber. By the time he caught Vaelia and arrested her tumble he'd be well down into the red.

Cutting thrust just a few feet from Vaelia, he caught her like a fly catching a freight train. Thom felt his organs rearrange as he collided with the griffin, but held on tight and activated the stabilisers again. the thrusters on his boots and clavicles puffed out everything the RCS tanks had left, thankfully just enough.

Their sickening tumble slowed, and bit by bit they slowly righted until their feet dangled over Farpoint's high orbit, the last few lengths of the beanstalk docking rings sliding past beside them.

Vaelia was panting heavily, and as Thom turned her to face him, he noted her eyes wide with panic through the visor of her mask.

“Are you okay?" he asked, but she didn't answer. Instead she wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug.

For a moment Thom dared let the moment of comfort take him…

Suddenly Vaelia let go of him and punched him in the chest, earning a gasp from the human.

“You dumbass!" she shouted. “Blowing us out into space!? How is that a good idea!?"

Thom scoffed. “Well, I know it was a bad idea, but…"

He didn't get to finish as Vaelia reverted back to hugging, squeezing him tight against her body again. Despite her jacket, he could still feel the soft curves of her hourglass figure crush against him, and Thom had to quickly think of something else so he wouldn't get a boner and pop a seal somewhere.

Besides, they had more pressing matters right now. Turning his head, it didn't take Thom long to spot the Killmonger, practically looming over them now. Several surviving TAFT starfighters that weren't swatted out of space by point defences harassed the hull, but they were like mosquitoes trying to annoy a t-rex. Anything they dropped was barely a pinprick explosion on the shielded hull.

There was a ping in Thom's ear. A popup on his HUD indicated an incoming transmission seeking him out specifically. Thom wasn't in the habit of answering calls targeting him specifically from total strangers, but considering the circumstances he made an exception. He swiped two fingers over his visor, and a live feed appeared on his HUD.

General Krux's smug smile stared him right in the eye. She was no doubt enjoying the tightly cropped image of Thom's face being beamed back to her station on the Killmonger's command deck.

“Mister Crichton," the Caushae woman purred pleasantly. “I must say I'm pleased to see you still alive."

“It's captain!" Thom corrected, angrily at first. Then his aspect went a little bewildered as his eyes scanned her appearance up and down.

Genera Krux certainly looked different than she had before. Her hair had lengthened out a little, and wasn't so tight and formal. She had longer, elegant curls down to her shoulders that framed her feline face quite nicely. She was even wearing eyeliner that made her eyes twice as vibrant, intimidatingly so even. Her uniform's top few buttons were popped open as well, a bit of her cleavage revealed as the icing on an oddly seductive cake.

It took Thom a full five seconds to recognise the look on Krux. She looked like she was trying to impress someone; a guy to be specific.

“You look unusually attractive. Did you get a haircut?"

“Thank you for noticing." She smiled, and there was a light flutter of her long eyelashes. Her eyes moved down then up, as if checking him out, which struck Thom just as odd as everything else he was experiencing right now. “No doubt by now you've figured out what I'm after?"

To be totally honest, the way she was eying him through the vid feed, Thom couldn't be sure anymore. So he made a wild guess. “A certain Caushae princess. Yeah, I got the abridged version."

“Good." There was that curious pause to eye him through the stream again, only this time she gave her bottom lip a light bite. “Why don't you come aboard my ship? I would prefer we discuss the terms of Princess Jinory Azon's surrender… in person." Licking her lips, she eased in a little closer to the screen on her side and whispered: “Or are we going to have to do this the hard way again?"

Thom set his jaw, thinking for a moment. Then asked, “Why not just leave Jinory be? You've captured her home system. You've pretty much won. Just leave her alone."

Krux giggled. The sound sent chills down the human's spine. “Something you should know about me, Mister Crichton. I never leave a job half done."

“There's something we have in common. Because neither do I." Thom swiped his fingers over his visor again and hung up on her, at the same time pinging Al again. “I could use that pickup right about now!"

Al didn't need to answer. Turning his head, Thom aw the silent approach of the Starcast Ronin. His familiar craft was still home to the long cargo spine running the midsection, but despite that the craft performed a nimble turn that would shear most other craft of similar length in two. Al pivoted the vessel sideways about an axis, then drifted sideways, the external airlock door on the side of the Ronin sliding open like a mouth ready to swallow them.

Thom groaned to himself, realising this was going to hurt, then puffed the last of his RCS fuel to turn and tighten his protective embrace around Vaelia.

He slammed into the inner airlock door first, acting as a cushion for Vaelia to land on. The Ronin's gravity grabbed them a moment later and the pair collapsed to the floor, feeling the tugging acceleration of Al turning the Ronin away from Krux's warship and hitting full thrust.

As both Thom and Vaelia were untangling themselves from each other, Thom got another call on his HUD. He answered and wasn't at all surprised to hear Krux's voice again, this time over an audio only feed.

“This will be your last chance to hand Princess Jinory over to me peacefully. You have my word, you will not be harmed if you comply. In fact, I can guarantee your reward for compliance would be most generous."

Thom straight up ignored her. “Al, cook the hyperdrive. Fold us out of here ASAFP!"

Krux sighed. “Very well. Have it your way, Mister Crichton."

“It's captain!" Thom yelled back before hanging up on her again. In the same breath he turned his voice back to Al. “Al! How's it looking?"

“Spooling to ninety-percent," Al reported with refreshing calm. “Ready to fold in ten seconds."

There was a beat of silence before Al added: “Thom, we have problems."

“More!? How could we possibly have more problems!" His voice was starting to break with frustration.

“The Killmonger's primary weapon is powering up."

Thom's eyes bugged. He knew all too well where this was going. The last time Krux pulled this she blew up a small system to try and vaporise him. If she did that here and now… Farpoint was all Thom could think of at the moment.

His mouth was moving, barking orders to deploy countermeasures for intercept, but a streak of light glinted in his visor. It was too little too late. A glowing missile of light shot across the Ronin's bow, missing them by about a kilometre before continuing straight for the sun. the Killmonger in the meantime vanished into hyperspace and the shot of destructive energy was absorbed by the sun. the surface of the system's star flashed and flickered, a plethora of colours streaking across the flaming skin before the sun visibly shrank.

“Oh, god…" Thom whispered before he jammed his eyes shut and shielded his face from the resulting flash of blinding photons.

In an instant the sun began to expand, vast solar flares rippling out in every direction like fiery claws intent on destroying everything around it. Planet by planet, solar lens array by solar lens array, the sun enveloped everything in its path.

Al didn't wait for orders. The external airlock sealed. He hit the throttle the moment the drive spooled to a hundred percent. The Starcast Ronin folded into hyperspace and disappeared.

A moment later, Farpoint was consumed in apocalyptic fire.

<<Previous| ** “Beguile at Farpoint" ** |Next>>

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