Defying The Alliance: ERUPTION (Novokin Alliance Invasion 3) (3 page)

"Captain." Julie's eyes gleamed like a woman in love. She placed a protective hand over the purple sheetek’s chest. The tone of her voice dropped. "Caspia. This is MY Marco."

"Maybe I did eat the gruel," I thought out loud. "That's it, I must be hallucinating, because now it seems to me like a woman who was captured and forced into slavery by the Novokin Alliance is now in love with the Novokin Alliance."

He kissed her hand with the tenderness only a past lover could endeavor to demonstrate, before stepping around her. He met my gaze. Without wavering he avowed, "No Captain, she's in love with one Novokin. And no one in this room has any love for the Alliance."

I poked an accusatory finger at his chest. "That uniform there tells me different Commander."

I grabbed his collar with one hand and pulled his nose down to meet mine. The other hand was busy bringing the plasma pistol up to his chin. I narrowed my eyes at him. "I'm supposed to believe that? And maybe there's more like you out there, waiting to take up arms and rebel against the Alliance too, am I right?" I was in no mood for games.

His face was solemn, but this Commander Marco didn't waver one iota when he spoke. "Well Captain, I can say with great certainty that on this ship I'm the only Novokin I know of who feels the way I do."

"And why is that?" I growled, giving him the stinkiest stink eye could muster. And I'd be damned but I could almost smell it.
Sniff. Sniff. Oh wait, that was me.
The accumulation of nearly two days of cramped space travel and then lying on that nasty cell floor, all sans bath, had me pretty ripe.

His voice was somber but confident. "Because Captain, I know for a fact anyone else on the ship who has either spoken out, acted out or even been suspected of defying the Alliance, is already dead."

"Fair enough," I huffed, lowering the pistol. Slowly.

Julie's Novokin pointed at the table. "This is all I could smuggle under my cloak without being too conspicuous."

I shot a speculative glance at the Terran girl with the strange fiery hair. It turned into a glare as I had to wait for her to finish playing kissy-face with her Novokin boyfriend. When she finally came up for air and noticed me, she held her hands up in surrender.

"Oh no, I'm not touching one of those ray guns. I'm just as likely to shoot my own foot off." She reached out and took a wicked looking long knife off the table. Holding it curved side down, it stretched the length of her forearm. She turned back to the both of us and flashed a toothy grin."This'll do just fine," she said cheerfully.
Creepy.

Commander Marco and I looked at each other for a moment. Me wondering just who the in the eight infernos Julie was, and him wondering… Well who the prak knows what a Novokin wonders about. Anyway, he began to undo his belt. I quirked that trademark Jones eyebrow at him. When he caught it, he seemed to fumble with the buckle. Good, my Captain's mojo was still intact.

"Here," Marco finally said, after unbuckling then handing over what was apparently a second belt he had threaded over his own. It was a magnetic holster, and would fit two plasma pistols on it nicely.

I tried it on and it slumped down at an odd angle over my hips. I was afraid the belt would make running difficult.
Croatonian panhandlers can't be specific
, so I started to load it down with incendiary devices and extra charging packs. I snapped on two pistols and hoisted one of the plasma cannons he put on the table. I dropped it back to the table just as quickly. I didn’t need my intestines bursting out of my stomach. Sacred skeck that was heavy. It wouldn't only be a pain to lug around, but it would be a skeetek to fire. I’d just have to keep alternating between the pistols so they wouldn’t overheat. Cheap Novokin junk. Yeah, yeah. Croatoian panhandlers and all that.

The Novokin male shrugged off his obscenely gaudy coat and I got a good look at him. He was tall and slender, but well muscled. Apparently the shoulders were his, not the coat’s. Nice. He was handsome in a classical sort of way, if you liked that kind of thing. And he was obviously, most definitely and certainly most importantly, 100% in love with my crew member. At least if the furtive glances they kept casting each other and the accidental brush-ups-against were any evidence.

"Should I assume you have a plan to get us out of this mess, Marco?" I interrupted their googly-eyes session.

"Yes Captain," Marco snapped, falling right into the military hierarchy of the room. Good man, that would make this a lot easier. "I've got a light slip fighter that can handle three people, waiting in docking bay two. It's fueled, supplied and ready to go. I've also rigged the defense net targeting system to malfunction in just under an hour. All the three of us need to do is get to the docking bay."

"All right Commander, the desk is yours." I pointed to the nearly empty table and picked up one of the sharp knives he had laid out on it. "Show us the way."

Taking the blade from my hand he started to carve out a map on the table's stained, rusty surface.

Bamm! Bamm! Bamm!

It was 0400 hours on the Razor. Trex’s knuckles were raw from punishing the gravity bag he had started in on the previous night. Anya, the ship's engineer, had reconfigured the bag specifically for him. Now the core of the 200 kilomound bag contained a small artificial gravity well. This pushed the feel of the bag up to just over 3000 kilomounds.

Every rage filled strike left fist-shaped bloodstains on the white, platisteel woven bag. Every powerful strike made it shake like the leaf on a tree in the face of a coming winter storm.

Bamm! Bamm! Bamm!

What in the Blazing Pits of Disgorgement was she thinking? Did she not realize they were a team?

Could she honestly believe that Dilurian trap-spider of a fiend Asmot would be true to his word? In her crew’s attempt to determine why she left, Anya had hacked the captain’s personal terminal. Caspia had done a fine job of erasing the conversation but the engineer was able to reconstruct the files from the memory of the terminal itself.

Asmot would not free the captives. He would not honor their agreement.
How could he?
The abnoflax had no honor. His vision narrowed on the dented bag.
Why had she not told him? Why had she not trusted him? Did she think she was protecting him? One thing he didn't need was protection, and certainly not from the Alliance!

Bamm! Bamm! Bamm!

They destroyed his world.

Bamm! Bamm! Bamm!

They took his people from him!

Bamm! Bamm! Bamm!

They murdered his family!

Bamm! Bamm! Bamm!

And now, he finally found the one shred of perfect happiness left to him in the universe, and the Alliance took her too! He let loose a roar that shook the entire room to its moorings. If he had to kill every single Novokin with his bare hands to get her back…To be able to gaze into her beautiful face, to drink from her lips, to stroke her soft curves...To ensure her safety and well being.

Bamm! Bamm! Bamm!Bamm! Bamm! Bamm!Bamm!

The heavy bag tore free from its gravity container and sailed across the room, first exploding and then imploding on itself. A heavy bar, the weight bench it was on and a piece of the bulkhead disappeared with it. He didn't need revenge anymore, he only needed her…

But they took her too.

Trex stood and stared at the empty space caused by the implosion. The rock solid muscles in his massive arms, broad back and enormous shoulders twitched and shook. He needed to cool. He focused his rage on the impending battle. In his mind’s eye he saw himself surrounded by a battalion of heavily armed Novokin soldiers. He was alone, defenseless, except for his loin cloth. He grinned at how much Caspia would appreciate that. Then he plunged into battle, tearing the enemy limb from limb.

A strong hand laid itself on his shoulder. Reflexes on high alert he tensed and merely attacked. When he saw the defending hand was a light shade of green, he relaxed.

Jaxx spoke softly. "Hey big guy. We found her, and we found him too."

The normally spacious bridge felt cramped to Trex. With the entire crew in attendance, the air crackled with anticipation, their resolve palpable. They were a fine force and fiercely loyal to their captain, even in her absence.

On the view screen were at least 45 open vidlinks. Some contained the talking heads of the captains of the vessels that surrounded the Razor. Others held entire crews of said vessels, all cramming themselves onto the screen. Ex-protectorate Captains and first officers, joined civilian captains and even some actual pirates that had found the penalties for breaking Protectorate law was much more conducive to continued breathing than life under the Novokin Alliance rule.

Jaxx stood in front of the Razor's crew, addressing them and all the crews in attendance. He stood tall and proud, at least as much as his two full term bellies allowed him to. It was easy to see how the green Floturan had earned Caspia's respect and friendship. His voice imposing and at the same time commanding when he spoke. "We're now 46 ships strong, and that includes five Protectorate warbirds. Three of which we've liberated from Novokin shipyards."

They hung on Caspia's first officer's every word as he discussed tactics that Trex had witnessed the Novokins resort to time and time again. Jaxx never missed a beat. He was every bit the captain she had intended him to be. The large golden warrior nodded to himself imperceptibly, believing Caspia would be proud.

"...And finally, we will break the fleet up into light and heavy attack squadrons, with a warbird at the center of each contingent," Jaxx concluded to a deafening silence.

One of the little heads on the screen decided to speak up. "Where is Captain Caspia?" Both Jaxx and Trex had expected the dreaded question. 

His green friend held his chin high up in the air when he answered, "Caspia's been captured."

The captains went wild. Soon the screen was a cacophony of useless opinions, a swirl of little angry heads and confused comments. The incessant buzzing grated on his nerves and Trex began to fear he would need to step in when Jaxx dropped his head to his chest.

"Enough." Jaxx's tone was low and completely ignored in favor of the chaos on the viewer.

The green man pulled his shoulders back, standing to his full height, refusing to hide his situation from any of the captains in Caspia's fleet. He slammed an angry fist down on the stratagem console next to where he stood.

"I said enough!" His voice made deeper by the impending pregnancy, his words boomed like thunder, reverberating through every ship.

His voice may have stunned them, but it was his keen green glare that kept their continued attention. "We've been planning for this opportunity since day one. We built our strategy, and now thanks to Caspia’s sacrifice we have our target. Nothing’s changed, and before anyone gets any big ideas, suggesting that our mission may now be compromised, you better remember that my Captain did not yield once to the Alliance since the invasion three years ago. When most of the Protectorate laid their arms down and surrendered to the enemy force, cowering like Mynsic dogs, Captain Caspia Jones refused. Not once did she capitulate to the purple sheeteks. She fought tooth and vine to keep us safe with all her might. I vow to you today as every member of her crew would that Caspia Jones would die before she handed over a single one of you or the fleet's plans to the Novokins." His glare dripped with challenge.

"We don't have the resources or the time to mount a rescue operation." A small blue captain from one of the freighters nervously tapped his fingers together.

Jaxx approached the view screen in what Trex sure recognized as an effort to seem more intimidating. His waddle may have nullified the effect a little. The Commander’s green eyes narrowed to daggers when he spoke. "You don't think I know this? You don't think Captain Jones knew it too when she made her decision? This was never a rescue operation. This is an assault on the murderer of the people of the Kalemta mining colony, on the sheetek who murdered our families on the steps of the once proud Protectorate Senate building. We do this in defiance of those who have invaded our galaxy, destroyed our homes and everything we’d built! Today we fight against the monsters who actively seek to enslave our collective peoples!"

Jaxx was seething, and Trex did not believe his green friend would even be able to get another word out. Anya spotted this too. She stepped up next to her Commander, now Captain, and raised her fist to the sky.

"We do this today because it's right – we do this to free the Protectorate!" She bellowed.

"Free the Protectorate! Free the Protectorate!" echoed captains and crews alike on all forty six ships.

Except for Trex, who merely nodded his head in approval, bowing to the cry of his own personal war.

Jaxx penguin-walked to his place in front of the captain’s chair before speaking, "Ensign, how long before we’re in a position to engage the enemy?"

The young man pivoted to look at his Commander, now the acting Captain of the Protectorate Warbird Razor. "Were almost at the twenty minute mark Sir, er Captain," he corrected.

“It’s okay Ensign. Caspia Jones is still the captain of the Razor as long as she lives, and as far as I’m concerned she’s alive and kicking some Novokin ass somewhere, right now.”

The ensign dropped his eyes to the floor and nodded in agreement.

Jaxx tried to situate himself into Caspia’s chair, his two large pod sacks making it difficult to maneuver into the diminutive chair. He sighed, then gathered himself up and addressed the fleet ships. "Captains, break off into your assigned groups. Be prepared to attack the second we drop out of hyperspace."

One by one each captain saluted and their image flickered off the screen. Captain Jaxx turned to Lieutenant Cobbs at communications. "Keep all channels open Lieutenant. Monitor fleet transmissions as well as all Novokin signals. I don't want anybody being squeezed off or outgunned," he ordered.

"Yes Captain," the Lieutenant answered, his skilled hands already responding to the command.

They engaged the hyperdrive, and space began to bend around them. Jaxx stood defiantly in front of the far too small captain’s chair. A large puddle of water began to collect around his feet.

"Jaxx," Trex called out. "My friend, you are raining."

Jaxx narrowed his eyes quizzically at Trex, still holding tight from his performance. He then craned his head down toward the floor.

"Oh skeck," he cried out, "my waters broke."