

COLONY

By John Cosper
Copyright 2017 by John Cosper

johncosper.com

Cover photo courtesy shutterstock.com
To Len Cella

Creator of the Moron Movies

Co-star of Trish Angel in Fluffy 3

Inspiration to backyard filmmakers everywhere

PROLOGUE

Cleveland: Three days after the end of the Fourth Alien Conflict.

Stone Brockman reached down between the large shards of concrete. He felt the fingers he had seen in the darkness and linked his own between them. Slowly, gently, he pulled, bringing into the light yet another disappointment: a large, beefy forearm, and nothing more.

It was a male forearm, covered in blood and blackish hair with a pinky ring still around its post. Stone tossed the forearm aside without an ounce of guilt. Sure, he felt sorry for whomever the poor devil was that was once attached to that arm, but it wasn't hers.

Three days into the clean up, still no sign of her. "Where are you, Trish?"

Stone looked out over Lake Erie and sighed. He could see dozens of relief workers combing through the wreckage, men in hazmat suits searching for signs of life and evidence of the battle that had (fingers crossed) once and for all brought an end to the alien menace. It was here, in what used to be the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, that mankind - no, make that womankind - made her final stand against the invaders from Mars. The same woman who had been present for the first encounter on Mars, the same woman who had turned back the aliens thrice before, the woman Stone Brockman dared to love, sacrificed herself to bring an end to Earth's suffering one final time.

Stone felt nothing but remorse. It was he who recruited her from the dojo in New Orleans for the very first mission to Mars. After two tours of duty in the Southeast Asian conflict by his side, she left the military for the more peaceful existence of ultimate fighting. Stone didn't know if she'd even speak to him after what happened after the battle at Seoul, but when she learned this was a mission of peace and a chance to see a new world, she accepted her role as pilot on the Mars mission.

If only he knew then what he knew now! Dr. Dex Tucker, the mission biologist, was foremost in his field. Who knew he was an idiot? Who knew that, against orders, he would smuggle home one of the cute, fuzzy aliens spotted on the fourth planet? Who knew the creature would turn out to be a deadly killing machine, multiplying at an exponential rate and leveling cities?

Trish Angel was there when the alien first broke loose. She was at ground zero, Dr. Tucker's home, to see him and his family slaughtered. She was there to put down their first uprising, nearly dying in the process. So bad was the trauma, not only did she undergo twenty hours of plastic surgery, she inexplicably became right handed after being a leftie all her life.

Trish entered a convent after she recovered, seeking a life of peace and tranquility, away from many and his wars, but Stone drug her back in when the fluffy invaders rose up once more. It was during the second conflict that their complicated romantic relationship began, a relationship that was on and off through a third and now fourth conflict.

Stone shook his head. He should have left her in the convent. No, he should have left her in New Orleans. But even if he had, Dr. Tucker would still have made his grave mistake and still plunged the world into chaos.

Would anyone have risen up in her place? Brockman wanted to believe it was so, but who? Trish did more than even he to save the world, four times over now! He couldn't imagine anyone being so heroic.

"Commander!" shouted one of the relief workers. "Over here!"

Stone rose to his feet and bounded over the heaps of rubble, glass, and rock and roll memorabilia. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the mannequin that once bore the school boy outfit of AC/DC's Angus Young, but he didn't have time for such nostalgia. There was only one person in the world he wanted to see.

Stone saw her hand reach out from the ruins before he arrived on the scene. As he made it to the opening in thee ground, he saw two men in hazmat suits pull her free. Her long, beautiful black hair was matted and dried with the guts of dead aliens, and her face and arms were covered in blood and bruises. Other than that, Trish Angel, miraculously, seemed to be okay.

"Trish," he said, at a loss for more words.

Trish looked at him with an icy glare. "Did we get them all?"

"Yes," he said. "You did."

She nodded, stepping free of the rubble.

"We'll get you a medi-lift, ma'am," said one of the hazmats.

"No need," she said. "I'm not going to a hospital. I made a promise while I was down there. I'm going back to the church."

Stone felt his heart sink. "Are you sure?"

Trish gave him a friendly clap on the shoulder. "If it takes the rest of my life," she said. "I will atone for what I did here."

Trish began to make her way down the massive hill of debris. Stone called out to her.

"You're a hero!"

"There's no heroism in genocide," she said, not looking back. "If you need me, you know where to find me."

"St. Hubbins," he said. "I know where."

She turned her head to him. "If you feel the urge to call... don't."

Trish turned, moving quickly away from her final stand and out of Stone Brockman's life. His eyes turned to the once mighty city, now a patchwork of destruction, wondering what the future held for Cleveland, for America, for him.

Whatever happened in the years to come, Brockman was sure of one thing. Trish Angel had walked out of his life for good.

Forever.

Neither fate, nor destiny, nor the will of God, would change that.

God, he would one day admit, has a funny sense of humor. 
CHAPTER ONE

History rarely happens by careful planning and calculation. The machinations of mankind, noble and well-intentioned though they may be, are usually thwarted, over-ruled, or otherwise blown apart by chance, happenstance, and sometimes good old fashioned stupidity. Individually, each has the power to alter the course of an individual's life forever. Collectively, their power is great enough to change worlds, which is exactly what happened the night Lt. Colonel Barry "Ace" Cutter decided to ignore his commanding officer and go out on a bender.

Cutter wasn't being rebellious that night. He was being human. His girlfriend of three years had informed him she was leaving him. Their separation was inevitable; Cutter was slated to leave Earth permanently on an interstellar mission. He planned on breaking up with her a few days before launch, but when Caroline informed him she was leaving him immediately for her boss, sleazy accident attorney Corbin "Big Hammer" Calvin, he was simply devastated.

To be fair Cutter never even reached the legal point of intoxication before things went bad. He was two drinks in when the event that would re-shape his life and impact billions more took place. Cutter was at the corner of the bar closest to the stage, where a country singer was braying away about some lost girlfriend, when the woman in red walked in.

Cutter would never know her name. He only remembered the flaming red dress barely held up by a thin band of sheer material tied around the back of her neck. The dress cut low in the front, the back was open, and the base of the dress barely reached her knees. All that red combined with her jet black hair and porcelain skin to make her irresistible to the wandering eye. She was dressed for attention that night, and Cutter decided to give her his undivided.

Barely thirty with a cut physique that belied his past as a water polo champion, Cutter adjusted the top of his dark blue Space Force flight suit and moved in on his target, timing his arrival at a stool next to hers just as she reached hers.

"Ready whenever you are," he said confidently.

"Ready for what?" She was as cool as he. Didn't even look his direction.

"Revenge," he said. "That's why you're here, isn't it?"

"Maybe I was thirsty."

"Thirsty for revenge," he reiterated. He signaled the bartender. "The lady will have a vodka and cranberry. Right?"

She smiled, but denied him the pleasure of eye contact. "How do you know that's my drink of choice?"

"You don't wear a bull's eye to a target shoot unless you're looking to get shot," he said. "Look around you. You're the only woman here in bright red. Everyone knows the power of the color red. Especially a woman who's out to make him sorry with another man."

Now her deep, blue eyes looked into his dirty browns. "Are you judging me?"

"Certainly not," he said. "He's got it coming. He deserves every bit of the pain. And you, well, you have a thing or two coming your way."

"Do I?" she purred, subtly scooting his way.

"Don't you?"

She smiled. "Sounds to me like you have this all worked out. You must be in rocket science."

"Rocket pilot, actually," he said. "I'm flying the Olympia to planet Krell in a matter of days."

"Are you really?" She didn't believe him. He knew she didn't believe him. He also knew she didn't care whether he was lying or not. Everything was going according to plan. He bought them another round. They talked about nonsense: movies, music, parents. It was all filler, a dance of words Ace Cutter had perfected in a hundred previous conquests. They would spend the night together and never see one another again. Literally. He would be on a rocket bound for another solar system in a few days. He was going to have one, maybe two or three, last hurrahs before blast off.

It was all going so well. And then, her boyfriend arrived.

Looking back on the incident while he was in recovery, Ace would realize he had missed a red flag in that red dress. As a frat brother once expounded to him, the hotter the girl, the bigger, burlier, and scarier the ex-boyfriend.

The woman in red's boyfriend was a veteran himself, six tours of duty in the Martian Invasion, decorated twice for valor under fire. At six foot four, bared arms covered in a tattoo mosaic of thorns, he drew as many eyes as his lady did upon entry. The lone exception was the desperate space pilot who kept his eyes locked on target.

It came as a complete surprise when the iron grip of the former ranger clutched Cutter's right shoulder, applying an extreme amount of vise-like pressure as he yanked the pilot backwards and flung him onto the slate pool table. Ace heard the crack and shatter in his shoulder joint as he skidded across the unforgiving table, but he ignored it, his mind focused on identifying and pacifying this unknown threat before it killed him.

Ace's left hand felt a pool ball slide comfortable into his palm. As the former ranger came into view, nostrils billowing smoke and rage, Ace hurtled the ball at his attacker's nose, smashing the delicate cartilage within and incapacitating him.

The ranger sank to his knees, stunned and dazed. Ace knew he had hurt the man bad. He also knew from the looks all around him the man had friends. Fortunately for Ace, not a one of them had put in a tenth of the time in the service as the woman in red's boyfriend. Ace's meager survival combat skills as a pilot were more than enough to get him through the mob and out the door. A jab here, a twist here, a sweep of the legs, a painful right elbow to the groin, and Ace was at the front door, clawing and scrambling for his life.

Ace heard a gunshot behind him as he raced for his car. He ducked low and dove for the cover of his truck as another shot ricocheted off his back bumper. Thankfully, Ace had left the driver's door unlocked. He scrambled into the cab, fired up the engine, and threw the gears into drive, hurtling his truck over the parking bumper and rumbling up onto the main road.

Five miles down the road, Ace let his foot off the gas a bit. He hadn't seen a single headlight since his escape from the bar, and he was confident he had gotten away. His thoughts turned to his commanding officer, and the story he would have to fabricate to get out of this jamb. It would not look good on the Space Force if the pilot for their primary mission to Krell had maimed or possibly murdered an army ranger just days before blast off.

Still, Ace had lied his way out of tougher spots, hadn't he?

Ace had a bigger problem, one that was only beginning to dawn on him. As his heart rate slowed and the adrenaline rush faded, the pain in his right shoulder grew more and more intense. By the time he reached his parking spot back on base, Ace was fighting back tears. He collapsed on the pavement outside his driver door and slept off the night.

Just after six AM run, mission biologist Dr. Becky Bender stepped outside her dorm, ready for her morning jog in a tank top and shorts with her long, dark hair in a pony tail and prescription shades covering her eyes. She had only run a hundred yards when she spotted the pilot lying on the ground. It only took a cursory examination and a few primal screams from the patient for her to confirm the history-making diagnosis.

Dr. Bender placed a call to her commanding officer right at 0620.

"It's Ace," she said. "He's off the crew."

"Said who?"

"No one officially," she replied. "But everyone will confirm once they see him. I found him outside his dorm beside his car this morning. His shoulder's destroyed."

"How?"

"He won't say," said Dr. Bender, "But it looks like he had a bad night. He won't be available for blast off."

Commander Stone Brockman rubbed his temple between his fingers, frustrated. Ace Cutter was the finest pilot the Space Force ever produced, but Brockman's ace in the hole had turned into a wild card. "This is unfortunate," he said.

"What will we do?" said Dr. Bender. "They'll cancel the mission!"

Brockman knew they had one chance. It was a one in a million - make that a billion - shot, but given what was at stake, the veteran military man knew he had to take it.

"Get the crew together," he said. "Tell them what's happened, but try to keep word from spreading across the base."

"Cutter needs medical attention," she said. "More than I can give him here."

"He's going to have to tough it out for a few hours," said Brockman. "He owes us. I need a few hours to work before the director finds out."

"What are you going to do?" she asked.

Brockman replied, "I'm going to get a pilot."

Commander Stone Brockman hung up with Dr. Bender. He called his driver and told him to be outside, car running, in ten minutes. He pulled down his dress uniform from the closet and walked out the door just as his car arrived.

As Brockman prepared to do damage control, a phone started to ring in another apartment on campus. The senior officer was already wide awake when he answered.

"Is it done?" he asked.

"Affirmative," said the woman in red, already kicking the shoes off her feet. "He did a little damage to Martin and the boys, but he's not going anywhere soon."

"You have done well, thank you." General Daniel Stillwater hung up the phone and took a satisfied swig from his coffee. By day's end, he was certain, it would be he, not Stone Brockman, preparing to travel the galaxy.

Which meant that he, and his benefactor, were about to become very, very rich.
CHAPTER TWO

The call Brockman hoped to outflank reached his phone just after 0800 hours. Brockman cursed under his breath when he saw the director's number on the display, but as bad as he wanted to ignore the call, he knew he would only make things worse by ignoring it.

"Brockman, where are you?" bellowed mission director Jacob Carlson.

"I'm thirty minutes from San Antonio," said Stone.

"I've had a man outside your place pounding on the door for half an hour!" screamed Carlson. "I need you here!"

"Sorry, sir, but I have an important, mission-related matter to attend to."

"You have a mission related matter to attend to here!" screamed Carlson. The fat man's balding head was beet-red, a product of a shirt collar and tie that were too tight and a stress level that was abnormally high for this time of morning. "Your pilot's on his way to Tampa to have complete reconstruction of his shoulder! Do you know this?"

Brockman shook his head; Cutter was such a wimp when it came to pain. "I am aware of the situation," said Brockman. "Which is why I am enacting plan B."

"Plan B?" said Carlson.

"I'm driving to San Antonio," said Brockman."

"To do what?" asked Carlson.

"What I should have done to begin with." Brockman killed the call and pocketed his phone. Ten seconds later, it was ringing again.

"You're not going to answer?" asked Private Jimmy Riggs, the fresh-faced kid with a pleasant Texas drawl sitting behind the wheel.

"I've already told him what he needs to know," said Brockman.

"But the director needs to know what we're doing,"said Jimmy.

"No. Not until I've been to church," said Stone.

"Shucks, Commander," said Jimmy. "If you need some prayer, I'll pray with ya right now. My daddy was a Baptist preacher, you know."

Stone smiled at his subordinate. "Then feel free to say a few for me on the way," said Stone. "I need a pilot."

"You expecting to find one in a church?"

"In the convent adjacent to the church," said Stone.

"A convent?" Jimmy said. "You think you're gonna find a pilot in a convent?"

"The best pilot in the world," said Brockman. "I just hope she's willing to listen."

The car reached the gates of Saint Hubbins Catholic Church just before 0900. Stone Brockman stepped out of the car and buttoned his blue dress coat. He was the very picture of a space commander: square-jawed with broad shoulders and an auburn crew cut that only showed a few hints of gray. He placed his cap on his head, removed the shades that covered his piercing blue eyes, and surveyed the scene before him.

Saint Hubbins was a relatively new church designed to look like an 18th-century Texas mission. The clay facade stretched forty feet in the air, peaking with a crucifix high atop the front wall. The main building itself stretched out like a cross with six massive stained glass windows on either side depicting the Stations of the Cross. Saint Hubbins himself stood inside an alcove above the double door entrance, his hands open, welcoming all who would enter with his signature sandals in hand.

To the left of the main building was a prayer garden, a lush green environment adorned with wildflowers, statuary, and fountains situated behind and iron fence. A stone path wound through the garden that acted as a place of reflection and a buffer between the main building and the auxiliary building that housed a cafeteria, classrooms, and a small gymnasium.

Stone saw the gate to the prayer garden open. He smiled, recognizing the stooped but strong presence of Mother Superior Maria Theresa as she made her way toward him.

"Commander Stone Brockman, I presume" she said. "I always knew this day would come."

"I'm sorry, Mother Superior," he said. "I had hoped it would not. For her sake."

"As did I," said Mother Superior.

"Sometimes destiny has a way of calling, whether we like it or not," said Stone.

"What some call destiny, others call the will of God," said Mother Superior. "Only she can know if this is His will. And even then, she must choose for herself."

"I can't force her to do anything," said Stone. "I gave up on that a long time ago."

"You are a fine soldier, and a good leader," said Mother Superior. "If she wishes to go, we will not stop her. I hope, for her sake, it is not into battle."

"Quite the opposite," said Stone. "War is the last thing I expect to find where we're going."

Mother Superior nodded. "She is in the garden. I don't know how, but I believe she is expecting you."

Stone was not surprised. He adjusted his coat once more and readied himself for anything. Jimmy followed him to the gate leading into the garden.

"Stay here, Private," said Stone.

"And watch and pray?" Jimmy asked eagerly, recalling the words of a gospel story that took place in a garden.

Stone looked through the bars and spotted her, kneeling before a prayer bench near the back wall of the garden.

"Sure, Jimmy," said Stone. "You can definitely pray."

Stone opened the gate, which creaked on its hinges. The woman in the corner made no move to indicate she had heard him, but Stone knew better. He knew he was being tracked with each foot fall on the stone walk way. As he passed Mary, Jesus, and another figure he couldn't place, he silently asked each one to grant him favor on his quest.

"Hello, Commander." said the woman in the black. He was still several paces away when she spoke, but she did not move. "It's been a long time."

"It has," said Brockman, recalling the last time they had seen one another on the shores of Lake Erie. He could not see her face, but there was a peace, a calmness in her voice he had not heard in her since... well, to tell the truth, he'd never heard it before. Trish was intense, almost cold in her approach to military life. This was a new Trish, one he had never encountered before.

"I wish I could say this was some pilgrimage or social visit," he said. "But the reality is--"

"You need me for a new mission," she said.

Stone nodded. "Yes."

"I'm sorry, Commander. That life is behind me. I've seen too much, done too much. War has no appeal for me."

"If it were war, I'd want no one else by my side but you," said Stone. "But this may appeal to you more than you realize. I'm commander of the Olympia, a space vessel bound for the planet Krell in the Altair system. It's a one in a billion find, a planet with an atmosphere conducive to Earth life. We're going there to explore, investigate, and perhaps start a colony."

"My prayers go with you."

"It's a peace mission," said Stone. "There are no... no creatures on this world." Stone had flashbacks of the fuzzy creatures from Mars that had put them both through so much Hell. "At least, nothing like what we found on Mars."

"Don't deceive yourself, Brockman. It's Mars all over," said Trish, recalling the last space mission they had undertaken together. "I'm sorry, Commander, my answer is no."

"Trish, please," said Stone. "My pilot is off the mission. He never should have been on it to begin with. There's no time to train someone new, and I need someone with your experience. Someone with no ties, willing to migrate and live the rest of their life on a foreign planet, and I need them now. From what I hear, it's an incredible place. Unspoiled, untouched. The ultimate prayer garden."

"Commander," she said, "My name is Sister Mary Patricia of the Order of Saint Hubbins. I appreciate your compliments to my skills. But that life is behind me. I am needed here. There are poor to be fed. Souls to be satiated. Children who need someone to teach them dodgeball."

Stone nodded. He thought back to his own days as a student in Catholic school. Were it not for the highly competitive intramural dodgeball team, his own life might have taken a different, darker road, hard as that was to believe.

"Forgive my intrusion, Sister," said Stone. "Given our past, your past, I hope you understand my coming here. I do not wish to take you some place you do not want to go."

"There was a time I would have traveled anywhere with you," said Trish. "That time is past. Go in peace, and may God protect you and your crew."

"Farewell, old friend," said Stone. He turned and walked back down the stone path, past the saints and Savior and out into the parking lot.

Jimmy didn't need to be told. "I'm sorry, sir. Maybe God has another way."

Stone shook his head. "Maybe it just wasn't meant to be."

They climbed back in the car, and Jimmy began the long drive back to base. Sister Mary Patricia didn't stir from her spot for another half hour, doing her best to purge the conversation from her mind before dodgeball practice, never suspecting that Mother Superior was already in the storage room digging out the remnants of the woman formerly known as Trish Angel. 
CHAPTER THREE

General Daniel Stillwater knew how to make an entrance. He was an imposing figure of six foot four, with black eyes and a light dusting of buzzed gray hair covering his aged head, the very model of a modern major general, as he liked to think of himself. His flair for the dramatic - a gift from his mother, a community theater diva - had served him well as he climbed the ranks of the military. Truth be told, he could easily have achieved his mother's dream of becoming a Broadway star had his father not put his foot down and insisted his son go to West Point.

Stillwater had no regrets. True, he had never achieved the rank of five-star, which would allow him to customize his uniform in the way Patton and McArthur had. And true, he had yet to have the opportunity to unveil his life's work, a one man version of King Lear, on the world. But as the man whose leadership had (to some degree) turned back the Martian invaders, he had attained hero status far greater than any Broadway career would have afforded him.

And he was still young enough at 55 to have the possibility of Lear before him one day.

Right now, Stillwater was frustrated, having twice been denied a chance to perform his dramatic entrance for an audience of one. Commander Stone Brockman, the renegade who bucked his authority at every turn during the Martian War, was not in his office when Stillwater arrived. Nor was he at home, where Stillwater prepared a second impromptu entrance. Thus he found himself caught off guard when he and his space crew arrived at the Space Force Administration building the same time Brockman and his driver returned from San Antonio.

It wasn't ideal, but Stillwater was still pleased with the way his crew, gathered in two black vans, exited their vehicles as one and made their way to the door, just in time to intercept his former subordinate.

"Late for your own funeral, Brockman," said Stillwater. "Word is out about your pilot. You and your crew are history."

"News to me," said Stone Brockman. "If you don't mind, I have a meeting with the boss."

"Don't take it personally when he fires you," said General Stillwater. "This mission should never have belonged to you anyway. Not after Mars."

"If you'll excuse me." It took every ounce of self-control not to strike the General in the face, an action that would have cost him far more than a space mission. One day, the old man would be out of uniform, Brockman reminded himself. So long as he wasn't in a wheelchair when that day came, Brockman would get his shot, preferably in the middle of what he anticipated would be a horrendous rendition of Lear.

Jimmy opened doors for Brockman all the way to the inner sanctum of Space Force, the command conference room. The spacious room at the center of Space Command was second in size only to the mission control room, and as Brockman entered, he found the remains of his command crew embroiled in a heated argument with Director Carlson.

"I have thirty years of my life put into this!" Dr. Rex Tucker screamed at Carlson. A mountain of a man who looked like he'd be more at home chopping timber than filling beakers, Tucker looked terrifying to the over-stressed, over-worked mission director in the chair at the end of the table. "Combined, my team has put in more than a century of effort. And you're going to pull the plug like this?"

"You're punishing us for the actions of one!" shouted Lt. Michael Phillips, the co-pilot. "We can get another pilot. You don't need to replace us all!"

"What would you have me do?" Carlson barked back. "You all understood the stakes at the outset of this project. You competed with Stillwater's team. You won as a team. You were going as a team or Stillwater would go!"

"A week before launch?" The normally reserved Dr. Becky Bender, now dressed in her favorite black power skirt, red turtleneck, and black boots, stood to her feet, staring daggers at Carlson through her black-rimmed glasses. "This is unacceptable!"

"At the very least, you should let me and my science team go," Tucker bellowed. "We'll fly with Stillwater. Let Brockman and his misfits stay behind! We have work to do!"

Brockman cleared his throat. All eyes turned to him. Tucker scowled. "Thanks a lot, Brockman. You know we could have signed on with Stillwater. We trusted you. Now your poor decision has cost us our mission!"

"No argument there, Dr. Tucker," said Brockman. "It was a poor decision. To tell the truth, Cutter was not my first choice for the mission. Had I gone with my first choice..." he trailed off, thinking of the nun he had left behind in San Antonio. "Well, we'd still be in this predicament."

Brockman could hear the murmurs and curses whispered around the room. Carlson, relieved that the ring leader of the soon to be decommissioned space crew had arrived, loosened his collar. "Commander, we've received word that Lt. Col. Cutter made it through surgery. His expected recovery time is six to nine months. I will leave it to you whether you stick with him or replace him, but given the circumstances, I'm going to have to remove your crew from the Olympia."

An eruption of curses filled the room. Brockman held a hand up, and the crew heeded his direction. "Director, I'd like to request an opportunity to re-fit my crew and keep this mission together. Lt. Phillips here is more than capable of filling Cutter's shoes, and we could easily fill Phillips' seat with another member from the Space Force."

Carlson paused, leaning back in his seat, stressing its joints as he did. "Lt. Phillips is up on the latest training, but the only other pilots rated for such a task are on Stillwater's team. I'm afraid the General will not let his crew be broken apart."

"You're the director of Space Force," said Brockman. "Not General Stillwater."

Carlson wanted to tell Brockman the truth: he was deathly afraid of Stillwater. He didn't want Stillwater on the mission for that very reason, even though sending the petulant general would mean he'd never see him again. And while he didn't want to work with the General on this mission, he certainly didn't want to face the wrath Stillwater would bring if he tried to break up his crew.

"Commander," said Carlson, "Unless you have another flight ready pilot in your back pocket, I'm afraid your crew will be taken off the flight."

Brockman looked around the room. Tucker was ready to explode. Phillips was right behind him. Becky Bender had the same cool, calculated expression she normally had, but he knew she was angry. Mission specialists Elton and Bailey were somber, but relaxed. They had been with Brockman from the beginning of his second tenure at Space Force. They would be with him until the end. Even though it was the science team that had the most to lose, they were the two he least wanted to disappoint.

Brockman decided there was only one thing to do. He himself would choose to stand down, to hand the mission over to Stillwater. There was no point fighting. He would lose his science team, but Carlson had given him no choice. There were more missions to come. They would fly another day.

Brockman opened his mouth to speak, but he was promptly interrupted by Jimmy as he opened the conference room door.

"Commander Brockman," said Jimmy. "I'm terribly sorry to interrupt. But someone is here to see you."

Brockman turned. All eyes moved to the door as a nun in her early 30's entered. Her face was beautiful but cold draped in the traditional habit. She nodded her head to Brockman. He smiled.

"Permission to come aboard, Commander?"

"Welcome back, Lieutenant," said Brockman.

Tucker snorted. "What is this, a prayer meeting?"

Sister Mary Patricia glared at the giant scientist. She removed her habit, setting loose her jet black hair to tumble down her back. She removed her robes and laid them over a conference room chair.

Brockman grinned. She was in her dark gray battle suit, the one she had worn the last time he had seen her. It was still frayed and ripped, but clean, the blood stains washed away. Her gun holster was gone, replaced by a rosary that hung out of her hip pocket, but other than that, she looked as fierce and dangerous as ever.

Phillips let out a low whistle. "Trish Angel. Back from the dead."

Carlson let a grin spread across his face. Angel was not up to speed on the new ship, but he knew her reputation. She'd have it in a day, and he could tell Stillwater where to go.

"Commander," said Carlson. "Get this woman into the simulators. I want to know she is flight ready in 48 hours."

"It won't take that long," said Trish.

Brockman turned to the crew and was pleased to see smiles returning to all their faces. "Ladies and gentlemen, your pilot, Trish Angel."
CHAPTER FOUR

Much as Brockman wanted to stick around and witness Stillwater's reaction to the news, which one witness described as "ballistic," he had work to do. He took Trish and Lt. Phillips to the simulators straight away. Phillips was pleased to still be on the mission, but he nearly came to blows with his new pilot when she refused to let him take a break for the evening. They were still in the simulators the following morning when the rest of the crew arrived for the group picture. Phillips' exhaustion was plain to see in the official photo that would forever enshrine the crew of the Olympia.

Following the picture taking, rumors began to circulate amongst the crew regarding their new pilot. It was widely known that she was a hero in the Martian War, but stories of her post-war life were varied and, in some cases, pretty extreme. Some chose to believe the obvious, that she had, in fact, joined a convent. Others suspected the nun thing was a ruse, a cover for her post-war actions in special forces. There a story floated that she had just assassinated the President of Paraguay and replaced him with a robotic duplicate. Another story claimed that Trish herself was not Trish, but a robotic duplicate.

"No one changes their hand preference over night," Rex Tucker was overheard saying in the cafeteria. "I don't care how much trauma you suffer."

Trish did nothing to encourage the rumors. Nor did she try to extinguish them, as she rather enjoyed the privacy her aura of mystery afforded her. She kept her prayer schedule, a habit formed by years in the convent. She was sometimes seen in the commissary or gym, usually with her nose in the Bible or the writings of St. Augustine. She was never seen speaking socially to anyone, save the occasional conversation with Brockman.

Brockman knew what concerned Trish most, and he did his best to put her at ease.

"No guns," he said. "No weapons of any kind on the ship either."

"I find that hard to believe."

"I understand," said Stone. "And you're right to worry. Considering the danger we discovered on Mars, there was serious debate as to whether we should go without any protection."

"We disturbed them," said Trish. "We removed them from their home environment, and they were only doing what instinct told them to do."

Stone was amazed at the change in his once trigger-happy partner. "Be that as it may, there's considerable concern even now that something unseemly or hostile might be waiting for us."

"I will not be a part of another genocide," said Trish. "I'm not that person any more."

"Clearly," said Stone. "But I assure you no one on this crew, no one that you met will be taking any sort of weapon to Krell. We are explorers, pioneers, and scientists, not crusaders. Check the schematics of the ship. Check the cargo holds."

"I have," she said. "Twice."

He smiled. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

"Good."

"You haven't changed as much as I expected," said Stone. "I'm kind of glad."

Trish nodded. "I'm going to go pray and then hit the bed."

"Big day tomorrow," he said.

She didn't need the reminder. "I'll be ready."

Stone watched Trish walk to the elevators. Soon as she was aboard and out of sight, he walked to the elevators himself. He took a ride up to his room. After half an hour, he went back to the elevators, taking one down to the lobby, and left the dorm.

In truth, he had not lied to her. No one Trish had met thus far would be carrying any weaponry, nor did the ship carry any on-board weapon systems. The command module, sleep module, and storage modules atop the rocket were filled with the necessities for the mission: food, survival gear, sleeping chambers, communications gear, spare parts. Only an industrious mind, such as Trish, could make weaponry from such things.

Below those modules, between the mission modules, the over-sized fuel tanks, and rocket boosters, was a top secret module. All of the schematics, internal and external, labeled this module as containing additional fuel. The dirty secret, known only to Stone Brockman, Director Carlson, and a handful of others near the top of Space Force, was that this was another sleep compartment designed to carry a small platoon of space marines.

The marines arrived at 2300 hours, eight hours earlier than originally planned. The schedule had called for an 0700 load-in, but after bringing Trish aboard, Stone knew he had to move the marines in by cover of darkness. Hiding a platoon of marines from a bunch of scientists was one thing. Hiding them from the cleverest soldier he had ever known was quite another.

Twenty men, not a one under six foot one, poured off the black bus parked in front of the launch pad. They were all in full battle armor, ready for a fight. Each man carried a heavy duty laser repeater rifle that looked like it easily weighed the same as a normal man.

Brockman walked out to greet their leader.

"Commander Brockman, it is a pleasure to serve with you again." said Major Butch Block in his deep voice. The six and a half foot tall marine was an imposing figure with dark skin, a handle bar mustache, and muscles from his toes to the top of his bald head.

"Good to see you, Major," said Brockman. "Apologies again for the last minute schedule change. I hope your men enjoyed their last leave on Earth?"

"We spent the last three days in Vegas." Major Block grinned. "We had a very good time."

Brockman smiled, pushing back any concerns that his marine detachment might be carrying some nasty viruses with them to Krell. He made a mental note to double check the vaccines available to the mission doctor before blast off.

"Blast off will be three o'clock tomorrow. Forty-eight hours from now, we'll be at cruising speed. Which means..."

"Which means, this is goodbye for now, and see you in a hundred years." Block held his hand out to Commander Brockman. "Good luck, Commander."

"Sleep tight, Major," said Brockman. They exchanged a salute and parted ways.

As Brockman drove home, he began to speculate on the inevitable, the moment when Trish would learn about the marines. With any luck, they'd be on a new world before she ever found out, and if her conversion of faith was true and genuine, the new Trish would be more forgiving than the old.

What if something hostile were waiting for them on the other side of the galaxy? Wouldn't Trish be glad to have the guns? This was best for the mission. She would see it his way and forgive him.

Much as he wanted to believe it, he couldn't. Trish would learn the whole truth, and when she did, her reaction would be very unpleasant.

Unpleasant didn't seem a strong enough word for General Stillwater that night as he placed a call to his secret backer. Senator Alan Carlos let his displeasure be known at Stillwater's failure to usurp Stone Brockman and his crew.

"I've spent a considerable sum on you and your team," said the Senator. "Money that would have brought a return to you and my family. Now what do I have to show for it? A lot of wasted time, and medical bills for a few badly injured soldiers!"

"Perhaps some of that money could have been spread among the higher ups in Space Force," countered the general.

"And risk exposure to my political rivals?" the Senator said. "Not a chance. This is about my family's future. No one's profiting from our venture if I get run out of office in disgrace."

"You'd have had far less chance of exposure with bribes than you do now with a bunch of injured soldiers," said the general. "What if one of them talks?"

"I'm counting on you to keep them silent," said the Senator. "At least until I can get you back on course."

"On course, sir?" said the general.

"Yes, general," Senator Carlos replied. "Just because you weren't the first to leave doesn't mean you won't be first to arrive."

"I don't understand," said the general. "How are we going to get there first?"

"Not now, general," said the Senator. "I have information, but I would prefer to share it in person. My office, tomorrow, four o'clock."

"I'll be there," said the general.
CHAPTER FIVE

"This is going in a museum right?" Rex Tucker, dressed in the comfort-fit under suit that was a little too form-fitting for those observing him, kept a tight grip on his tattered, stained lab coat. For weeks he had held out a small hope the Space Force would let him bring the lucky coat along on the journey, but now that Jimmy Riggs had come to collect the last of their personal effects, the eternal separation from the familiar was very real.

"Dr. Tucker, please don't make this goodbye any harder," Jimmy pleaded.

"Just don't sell it in some yard sale! You got me?" said Dr. Tucker.

Jimmy smiled. "Sir, I will do my best to see this is preserved, along side Dr. Bender's boots."

Becky Bender, dressed in her undersuit and dark blue flight suit, smiled at the young private. "I trust you will take good care of them."

"They're your signature fashion statement, Dr. Bender." The young private blushed. Becky was not a woman to be distracted by flirtations, particularly from someone younger and, well, less intelligent, but the private's crush on her had been a source of delight the last few months. She stood up and gave him a hug and peck on the cheek. "I'll miss you, you know," she said.

Jimmy turned beet red. "Now Miss, I mean Doctor..." He couldn't even finish the thought.

The door slid open. Trish Angel stepped into the room, dressed in her flight suit, and handed her combat gear to the private. She pulled her rosary beads from the pocket of the worn combat suit and slid them into her flight suit's front pocket.

"Burn them," she said.

Trish took a seat between Laura Bailey, the mission's chief engineer, and Sean Elton, the communication specialist. Like most members of the crew, Laura and Sean were relieved they'd be sleeping through most of the journey. The thought of spending endless hours in cramped corners in the company of someone as ice cold as Trish was unnerving. She clearly preferred her privacy, and everyone on the crew was unanimous - she would have it in spades.

Dr. Tucker finally got his flight suit zipped up with the help of another scientist, one of five that made up the science team with Tucker and Bender. As he took his seat in the ready room, co-pilot Michael Phillips and Commander Stone Brockman finally made their entrance. Phillips was nervous, tightly wound. It was his first space flight, and his nerves were threatening to get the best of him. Brockman, on the other hand, was cool, collected, ready to roll.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we're about to become the first humans to travel near light speed," said Brockman. "Approximately one hundred Earth years from the time of our departure, we will arrive at Krell. If all goes well, and if long range observations prove true, Krell will be the answer to our population and environmental problems. It will become a second home to humanity. That said, the humanity we save will not be the one we know, but that of our generation's children's children. I hope everyone's said their last goodbyes."

There were somber nods around the room. Every man and woman aboard knew they would never see a friend or family member they had known on Earth again. All were unattached. All had said their final farewells except Dr. Tucker, who had neglected to tell his estranged wife where he was going and that he would never be back. He only regretted he would not be there to see the shock and anger that crossed the cheating old bag's face when she found out.

"Dr. Bender, Dr. Tucker, there's an empty seat in the command module should one of you wish to observe the launch."

"No thanks," said Dr. Tucker. "If we blow up, I wanna be asleep when it happens."

Stone could feel the fear and tension spike in the room, thanks to the scientist's inappropriate comment. But Dr. Bender put them back at ease. "I'd rather see it coming. I'm in."

"Good," said Commander Brockman. "Dr. Tucker, you and your team may board. Dr. Bender will board with the command crew once you're all in hibernation. Pleasant dreams, everyone."

"I gotta see to my birds first," said Dr. Tucker.

Stone rolled his eyes. An added twenty million dollars had been invested in the Olympia to provide a sleep chamber for Dr. Tucker's beloved doves. Tucker justified the expense as an experiment to see if other Earth life forms would survive on a foreign planet. Stone just hoped the chamber would hold. The last thing he wanted was to wake up to a several years of bird crap all over his ship.

"Check your birds," said Stone. "And get to bed. See you in a few years."

Dr. Tucker and his team rose to their feet. Handshakes were exchanged, and the scientists left the ready room, headed for the ship. Stone looked over at Jimmy Riggs and saw a tiny tear in his eye.

"You okay, Jimmy?" he said.

"I'm sorry, sir," said Jimmy. "It's just, I'm going to miss you."

"You've been a valuable team member these last few months," said Stone. "I wish you were going with us."

Jimmy smiled at Brockman. "You do? Because I have a surprise. I am going with you!"

Stone's mouth opened, a bit stunned. "What?"

Jimmy laughed. "Just playing with you, sir. Good luck and God bless!"

Jimmy strolled to the door and left, his arms loaded down with clothes. The door slid closed behind him.

"He's a goofy little booger," said Becky Bender. "But so help me, I'm gonna miss him too."

Brockman took a seat with his crew. They waited the next hour mostly in silence. In the weeks leading up to this moment they'd spent hours discussing the things they would miss most: football season, Christmas time, new comic day, rock and roll. There was nothing more to say. Every member of the crew had months to prepare for leaving Earth behind. Only Trish was technically still adjusting, but truth be told, she had let go the things of Earth long before her crew mates.

Two hours later, the ready room was just a memory. Trish sat strapped in her seat, praying silently, as Phillips, seated to her right, frantically tapped his fingers across the touch screens in front of him, working through his pre-launch checklist.

Trish glanced back around the command cabin. Brockman was behind them, seated in between the two to afford him a look out the front window. Behind him in a semi-circle sat Bender, Bailey, and Elton, the latter two at their command stations.

Trish looked back at Michael. She saw a vein popping out of his forehead, a sign of the stress that was killing him. She brought up a menu on her left hand touch screen and pressed a red and white button.

BRONG! BRONG! BRONG!

A siren began to blare, vibrating the command console with its over-powering volume and ear piercing tone. Phillips let out a scream. Dr. Bender screamed as well. "What's happening?!?!?"

Trish killed the siren. Phillips slowly started to catch his breath. He looked up at Trish. "Are we okay?"

"Siren check," said Trish. "Working just fine." She let loose with the first smile he'd ever seen from her.

Phillips sighed with relief and laughed. "You almost gave me a... a..."

"No, you almost gave yourself a heart attack," she corrected him. "Loosen up. You've done this a hundred times. It's just like the simulator."

"If the simulator had fifty million pounds of thrust under my butt," he said.

"Precisely,"said Trish.

Phillips and Trish resumed their checklists and reported all systems go to Brockman. Brockman relayed the message to Elton, who confirmed all systems were go with mission control.

Trish and Michael engaged the auto-launch sequence.

The countdown began.

Minutes later, a blast of fire propelled the Olympia into the sky and into space on a trajectory for the planet Krell.

Trish closed her eyes, shutting out the noise of the engines as the rockets lifted them off the planet and into outer space. She prayed this would be her redemption, that the sins of her past might be atoned for on this new, peaceful mission into the void. As the engine roar faded and the ship hurtled silently through the vacuum of space, Trish opened her eyes to gaze out at the wonders of the cosmos.

She was stunned to see the moon zipping right past them as soon as her eyes were fully opened.

"Was that the moon?"

Brockman laughed. "She's got some horses under the hood, Trish."

"I believe you."

"Prepare to engage the hyperdrive," said Brockman.

Phillips and Trish went through their hyperdrive checklist. Behind them, Laura Bailey unhooked from her seat and ran a final diagnostic on the ship's systems.

"Hyperdrive chamber engaged and operational," she said. "No damage sustained on lift off."

"Copy that," said Brockman. "Mission control, we are awaiting your signal."

Phillips disengaged his headset, watching it float in front of him. Trish watches as his eyes followed the drifting headset with wonder.

"Go ahead," she said.

"What's that?" said Phillips.

"You want to play, play," said Trish. "You won't get much more of a chance to be in zero G's."

"Have you got the ship?"

She nodded. "Have some fun."

Phillips disengaged his harness and floated back into the cabin, nearly bumping his feet on Brockman's head as he drifted past him.

"Careful, Mike!" Stone barked.

Becky Bender floated up from behind Stone, smiling sweetly. "Come on, Commander, we're in outer space. Have some fun!"

Stone looked up at Trish, who was giving him an inquisitive look.

"Go on, Commander," said Trish. "Have some fun."

"You know how to engage the hyperdrive?" said Stone, unhooking his harness.

"It's the big red cliche, isn't it?" said Trish. She flipped open the central console, revealing the giant, red plunger button awaiting its bit moment.

"That's the one," said Stone, as he drifted back toward Becky Bender.

Trish shook her head, thankful for a reason to sit tight for the moment. She turned to gaze out at the stars as she waiting for the signal to engage the hyperdrive. The sooner it happened, the sooner she could crawl into her hibernation chamber and sleep. She just hoped the nightmares that had plagued her the last five years would not haunt her over the next one hundred.
CHAPTER SIX

Ninety-five Earth years later, the sweet scent of vanilla roused Trish Angel from her sleep. As she came to her senses, she was pleased to find she felt rested, relaxed. If there had been nightmares, she was not aware of them, and she felt no ill effects from the journey, other than the stiffness in every part of her body.

She opened her eyes and saw nothing but darkness. Physically, Trish was only two years older than when she had departed Earth, but in that time, her hair had grown into a tangled mess. She fumbled for the release on her sleep chamber and clicked it, causing the lid to slowly lift off her body.

Trish rolled up on her side. Gingerly stretching her long, dormant muscles, she pushed herself off the bed into the air, cautious not to damage the dagger-like finger nails that had grown uncomfortably long.

As she brushed her jet black hair out of her face, no small task in zero gravity, she looked for some place she could find a mirror and groom herself.

Trish drifted down the corridor toward the open door to the lavatory. She looked inside, and she was startled to see a face covered in fur staring at her through the mirror.

"Trish?" said the heavily bearded Stone Brockman.

"Yes, Commander, it's me."

"Your hair is a mess," he said.

"And you look like the wolfman."

Stone chuckled. "I'm having a problem changing back into a man."

"So I see," said Trish. "I'm guessing no one anticipated this?"

"It would seem so." Stone held a straight razor in his hand. "I could use this, but there's no way to catch all the hair."

Trish looked about the room. On the wall was the long hose used for evacuating personal fluids - the space version of a toilet. Stone followed her gaze.

"We might jam up the works," said Stone. "Do we want a backed up space toilet?"

"So it backs up. So what? We'll be on Krell in a day or so," said Trish. "Besides, we want to look nice for our first day on a new planet, and I have no intention of carrying eight feet of hair around with me."

Working together, they shaved Stone's face. Stone cut away at the beard with his razor while Trish vacuumed up the facial hair. When it came Trish's turn, she pulled her hair back, tied it off, and had Stone make one big cut just above her waistline. It wasn't glamorous, but it made her hair more manageable.

"We'll have to help the others," said Stone.

Trish glanced outside the lavatory, where she could see Becky Bender starting to move inside her compartment.

"So you and Dr. Bender," she said.

"Dr. Bender?"

Trish nodded.

"Nothing serious," he said. "Well, not yet. It's not a problem, is it?"

"Not at all," said Trish. "I'm not in my frock, but my vows still hold."

"Good," said Stone.

"She seems nice." Stone knew that was code for "I don't like her." He didn't take the bait.

"If this mission's a success, we'll be starting a new life on Krell," said Stone. "We're human, and all that makes us human will go with us."

Becky's compartment began to open, ending the discussion. Stone drifted over to help her get free before her hair became entangled in the latch. Trish saw the other compartments begin to open and drifted toward them to assist the others. One by one, the crew was greeted, groomed, and briefed on their location.

By the time they had all finished grooming and eating, they were less than thirty minutes from their entry point into normal space. The crew made their way up to the command module. Trish had been amused to see that hyperspace looked almost exactly like it did in the movies, like a bunch of white lines streaking around them in a swirling vortex.

Trish slid into her seat and began running system checks with Laura and Michael. The ship had survived the journey with minor damage, far less than had been anticipated by mission planners. The core was still sealed, velocity steady, all systems functioning as they should.

The minutes ticked away. Stone, Becky, and Sean all took their seats, locking into their harnesses. No one had ever come out of hyperspace in real life, so no one knew what to expect. It could feel like nothing. It could jolt them hard enough to dash someone's brains out on the side of the ship. Brockman didn't want any of his valuable crew taking chances.

The minutes ticked by. Phillips wiped the sweat off his brow, watching a few droplets drift off in weightless beauty. Trish entered the final command and began the countdown.

"Krell orbit in ten... nine... eight... seven... six... five... four... three... two..."

The lines of hyperspace dissolved. With the suddenness of a quick cut in the movies, the image out the window changed to that of a giant blue green planet and a large spaceship off the starboard side nearly double the size of Olympia.

There was stunned silence.

"Commander," said Michael. "Is that a spaceship?"

Stone leaned forward. "I don't believe it," he said.

There was a flash to port, and another spaceship appeared, angling and maneuvering toward the Olympia.

"Commander there's another one!" Michael screamed.

"Is there something you want to tell us?" Trish demanded.

Stone knew that tone of voice all too well. "Trish, I swear to you, I have no idea what's going in!"

"Captain!!" Michael screamed.

A flame shot out of the larger ship. It sizzled silently through the void and hit the smaller ship. There was a huge white flash as the smaller ship disintegrated before their eyes.

"Evasive action!" Trish shouted. "Let's get this bucket moving now!"

Trish put the Olympia in motion. Her mind raced, torn between heading to the planet's surface or back into deep space. She was just starting to gauge the fuel and life support systems when Sean Elton spoke up.

"Umm, Commander?" said Elton. "We're receiving a transmission from the other ship. Call sign, Dominator."

"They speak English?" asked Stone.

"Affirmative," said Sean. "And they're asking for you by name."

Trish shot Stone another evil eye. "Who are they, Brockman?"

"I don't know, Trish!" he shouted. "I don't know who's on board that ship or where that ship came from!!"

The audio system crackled to life. "Hello, Brockman. Took you long enough. How've you been?"

It was a familiar voice that laughed through the cabin speakers. "I'm so relieved to see you!" the disembodied voice said. "I was beginning to wonder if you'd gotten lost."

Brockman seethed; he knew that voice. "Stillwater."

"That's right," said Stillwater. "And on behalf of the crew of the Dominator, it is my privilege to welcome you to Krell."

The crew of the Olympia traded looks of disbelief with one another. Becky spoke for all of them when she said, "Tucker is going to be furious."

"Thank you," said Brockman. "I'm very curious to know how you got here so fast."

"I'll be happy to explain it all, once we get you settled," said Stillwater. "I'm sending you landing coordinates We'll have a hot meal and hot showers waiting for you all. How many aboard?"

Brockman glanced at Trish. She was going to find out sooner or later. "Thirty-two."

"Splendid," said Stillwater. "Looking forward to catching up."

"As am I," said Stone. "I think we have a lot to catch up on."

"More than you know," said the general. "Stillwater out."

It was then Stone noticed that Trish was out of her seat, drifting back toward him.

"Start talking," she said.

"It' the Dominator," said Stone, nodding to the giant ship outside their windows. "The next generation hyperdrive ship. It was only in the design stages when we left."

"How did it get here?" Laura Bailey asked.

"It's a much faster ship," said Dr. Bender. "They could have left ten years after us and still beat us."

"It wasn't theoretically possible at the time we left," said Brockman. "At least, that's what I was told."

"I'd say someone found a way to make it work," Becky replied.

"Indeed," said Stone. "Believe me, Trish, I didn't have any idea about this. I'm as surprised as you all."

Trish nodded. "One more question. There are six of us here, six still in hibernation. Where are the other twenty?"

All heads turned to Stone. Stone turned his eyes to Trish to face the music.

"The spare fuel module," he said. "It's not carrying fuel. We have a twenty man platoon of space marines aboard."

It wasn't easy throwing a sucker punch in space, but Trish threw one. She didn't pray for forgiveness for throwing it either, but she did pray that God would forgive her for feeling so good about it.
CHAPTER SEVEN

It was an eerie feeling stepping onto a distant planet that looked exactly like your own. The Olympia made its vertical landing on a flat plain, scorched and burned from multiple landings by its sister ship, the Dominator. But beyond the scorched ground and the second, much larger starship, Trish could make out amber waves of grain and purple mountain majesties. The sky was a gorgeous blue, with wispy clouds drifting by, and the air? Well, the air smelled liked burning rocket fuel, but there was some definite freshness moving in behind all that filthy exhaust.

The joy of the moment dissipated when the secret compartment opened. Twenty hairy, bulky, well-armed space marines made their way off the ship looking like alien warlords themselves with giant claws and hairy faces. Trish turned to give Stone more of her mind about the matter, but she stopped, cut off by the sounds of laughter as a very hairy, very unhappy Rex Tucker staggered sleepily off the ship, his face covered in sweaty, matted, over-grown hair.

"Will someone please stop laughing and help me?" he screamed. Becky Bender struggled to repress her laughter and offered him a hand. As Becky reached the door of the craft, the scene became even more surreal. Suddenly and violently, a huge flock of white doves streamed out the door of the ship, knocking both scientists on their faces in the alien soil. Too numerous to count, the doves flocked out of the ship and into the skies of Krell.

"Were those my birds?" Tucker shouted.

Becky helped Tucker to his feet, hiding her own amusement. "It seems your friends have had a busy space flight," he said.

Tucker rubbed his eyes, his hands feeling the mass of beard that had sprouted on his own face. "I don't suppose I have time for a quick shave."

"Not now, Doctor," said Stone Brockman. "I think our welcome committee is at hand."

Trish looked toward the Dominator and saw a cloud of dust rising toward them. Ahead of the cloud, three vehicles came into view: two large personnel carriers, and one smaller vehicle. All were open top, and all were missing any sort of wheels below, skimming on air.

The smaller vehicle pulled to a halt in front of Stone and Trish. General Stillwater stood tall in the rear of the vehicle. He had aged a few years, but his flair for the dramatic had lost none of its touch. He was dressed regally in a black tunic and pants with a red cape draped over his left shoulder. His general's stars were stitched in red on his right shoulder, and a black beret trimmed in red completed the look.

"Well, General," said Stone over the hum of the vehicle's engine, "It seems you found a faster ship."

"Indeed we did," said General Stillwater. "Right after your departure the Space Force approved and adopted a new interstellar propulsion system for space travel. Senator Alan Carlos called me in personally to tell me about the new technology the day after you left."

"Senator Carlos?" said Brockman. The Texas Senator was one of ten that sat on a committee overseeing the budgets for Space Force, but at the time Stone and his team left, he was the most junior member.

"Let's just say Carlos had a personal interest in the mission," said General Stillwater. "Long story short, instead of being your followers, we became your welcoming committee."

"Technology moves fast," said Stone as he looked beneath the floating car.

"Hover-propulsion drives," said the General. "I believe you were there when they had a demo at the Skunk Works a few years back." he chuckled. "Make that a century back. From what I hear, people back home are puttering around in flying cars. No more money wasted on re-paving highways. Can you imagine that?"

"Hard to believe," said Stone.

The rear door of the car opened. "Hop on, Commander. And you, Miss Angel. Or is it still Sister?"

"Trish will be fine," she said.

"You know we had another name for you, when you left the service and took the vows," said Stillwater. "What was it? Oh yes. The patron saint of mass... destruction."

Out of instinct, Stone positioned himself between the general and the nun. The old Trish would not have let such a comment go unpunished, but to his surprise Trish held still.

"I haven't heard that one," she said. "A few of my students used to call me the patron saint of galactic warfare."

Stillwater laughed. "I suppose that works too,. Please, climb aboard."

Trish followed her commanding officer as he climbed onto the transport. She shut the door and sat just as the vehicle moved forward.

"I must apologize for the jolt we gave you when you arrived out of hyperspace," said General Stillwater. "If you hadn't guessed, we are not alone out here."

"So that was an alien space craft we saw," said Stone. "Who were they?"

"Pirates," said Stillwater. "Alien pirates, believe it or not. They caught us by surprise a month or so after we arrived. Killed a dozen or so of my people in a raid. Their transportation technology is pretty advanced, but thankfully, their weapons lack the punch of ours. We try to keep the Dominator afloat as much as possible to discourage them."

"Amazing."

Trish caught the eye of the driver, who had been gazing at her off and on through the mirrors in the front. It wasn't the longing, lustful glance that had often annoyed her in times past. It was curiosity. He seemed particularly interested in the string of beads that still dangled from her flight suit.

"Let me assure you," the general continued, "You are perfectly safe here."

"And alone?" asked Trish.

"Indeed," said the general. "This world was once home to a civilized culture of some sort, possibly the raiders that you saw up in orbit. We've searched and swept the planet, but they are long gone now."

"You're certain?" asked Stone.

"Have you ever known me not to be thorough?" said Stillwater.

Visions of firebombed cities during the Martian War came back to Stone's mind. "Never, sir."

The general smiled. "We are alone here in our intelligence. But we do get the benefits of those who came before."

Trish and Stone saw it together, a large, granite structure stretching a hundred or more feet in the air. It was a pyramid, not like the Egyptians had built but more like the great kingdoms of ancient Central and South America. Twenty stories stacked on top of one another in even steps rising up to an open, square plateau on top with what looked like an altar. As they moved closer, they could see ornate carvings of strange creatures (the former residents of Krell, perhaps) etched into the facade. Vines grew and entangled themselves in the cracks and crevices of the structure, but it was still sound, still standing after who knows how many centuries.

An entry way fifty feet wide by thirty tall rose up to meet them in the front wall, a wall that stretched far off to the left and right as the ship entered.

"Believe it or not, this is the tip of the iceberg," said the general, smiling at their astonishment. "The structure is three times as deep as it is tall. There's room for nearly half a million people to live inside."

The entry way to the pyramid was lit by torches, but the interior entry bay was much brighter with its electric lights, something Stillwater's crew had obviously brought along. The car came to a rest on a pre-designated landing spot, and the other vehicles slid into marked spaces on either side of the car.

Trish looked up at the inside of the massive structure. The stone building stretched high over head, with each level connected to the one above by ramps. Half the building showed exposed stone walls, but it was clear the Dominator crew had done a lot of remodeling, adding smooth, artificial walls and flooring where possible. No doubt it gave the Earth crew comfort and more of a home feeling, but the nun in Trish preferred the old fashioned comfort of the stone walls. Hundreds of people were moving about on the base floor and above, all wearing similarly colored fatigues as their mission commander, though none as flamboyant.

"I won't bore you with the details," said the General, "But yes, we've doing some remodeling. Synthetic walls and flooring, electrical lights, powered by the mini atomic generator we brought with us. Plumbing, believe it or not, was already here, but it took us a while to get the system flushed and cleaned out. The first few showers were cold and pleasantly slimy."

Dr. Tucker staggered toward the command vehicle, still guided by Dr. Bender. "You did promise showers, right?" he asked.

"Of course, Dr. Tucker!" the general summoned a young man in black, standing by near the wall. "Commander, I'm sure you'll remember your old driver."

The face was a bit older, but it still made Stone Brockman smile. "Jimmy Riggs!"

"Commander Brockman, nice to see you again!" The response was polite, friendly, and surprisingly mature in its tone.

"Dr. Bender, Dr. Tucker," said Jimmy, "So nice to see you."

Becky smiled. "I thought I'd never see you again."

Jimmy turned his eyes to Trish. "And you. You're Doctor..."

"Not a doctor," said Trish.

"This is Trish," said Stone. "The pilot you helped me recruit."

"Of course, Trish, good to see you." Jimmy smiled. "Follow me, doctors. And bring the rest of your crew. We've got showers and grooming equipment waiting."

Stone watched the older, more mature Jimmy Riggs walk away, still a bit surprised by his presence.

"He grew up a bit," said Stone.

"It's been fifteen Earth years or us since we last saw you," said General Stillwater. "Our mission departed four years after yours, and our ship shaved more than a decade off your time."

Stone nodded. "You won," he said. "First man on the new colony."

"Don't think of it as winning or losing," said Stillwater. "It's a new day for all of us. And there's much to be done, now that you're here."

"There is?" asked Stone. He hadn't considered that his own mission of exploration and discovery might now be moot.

"We've got a planet back home bursting at the seams with people," said General Stillwater. "We need to get some of them moved."

"We will do our part, General." Stone saluted. The general saluted back. He turned to his driver.

"Tex, these are old friends of mine. Commander Stone Brockman and Trish Angel."

Tex saluted smartly. "At your service, folks," he said, with a hint of a Texas twang that fit his nickname. "Will you folks come with me?"

Tex led the two explorers up two ramps to the third level. He opened a door for Stone into a small but comfortable dwelling. The walls were a burnt orange color, with polished silver metallic accents. The floor was hardwood, real or synthetic, it was hard to tell, and the colors on the bed and chairs were a deep, dark blue. A flat screen hung on the wall facing the bed.

"Your bath and toilet are in the back," he said. "The room's fully stocked with towels and toiletries. And there are two channels of programs on the TV running 24 hours. The General's picks, though, so some of it's a bit... well, he has odd tastes." He motioned to a black bag sitting on the dark blue chair. "Your things?"

"That's my bag," said Stone. "Thank you, Tex."

"I'll come get you before dinner," said the young officer. He shut the door and led Trish a few doors down to another, identical room.

"Same as before," he said. "And I do hope you find it comfortable."

"Thank you," she said. She gave him a small hint of a smile as she walked inside.

"If you don't mind my asking," he said. "I noticed your necklace there in your pocket. Are you a God believer?"

Trish pulled her rosary from her pocket. "Yes I am."

"Really?" He shuffled his feet, strangely nervous.

"Yes," she said. "As a matter of fact, I was in a convent a few days before I left Earth."

"You were clergy?" he said.

"I was a nun," she said. "It's a long story."

"Maybe I can talk to you about it, some time," he said. "I, umm, it's been so long since I've been to church, you know. Like since I was a kid. I forgot a lot of it, and it would be so nice to ask some questions."

"I'm sure we'll find the time to talk," she said.

Tex smiled. "I'd like that, thank you," he said. He straightened himself. "I'l fetch you when it's time for dinner, ma'am." With that he closed the door.

Trish took a shower. After she was dry, she wrapped herself in a bathrobe she found in the closet and laid down on the bed, which she found amazingly comfortable. She was a bit curious how all these amenities had come to be here, and wondered how many of the Olympia crew was afforded this kind of luxury.

There was something odd about the whole situation. Not that the other ship had beat them, but something seemed off about Stillwater and his crew. True, time had passed for both crews, and people changed, but something was bothering her, gnawing at her gut. Something about Jimmy.

Of all the people, Jimmy Riggs didn't say a thing about the change in her hair. Of all people, she expected Jimmy to say something.

She shook off the thought. She barely had time to get to know Jimmy before leaving Earth. Why should he remember what color her hair used to be? She grabbed a remote and clicked on the television, curious to see what sort of programming General Stillwater preferred.

One channel had Hogan's Heroes.

The other, Dragnet.

Trish turned off the screen and shut her eyes. She was never much of a TV fan anyway.
CHAPTER EIGHT

"Something's different," said Becky. "He used to never be able to talk to me without turning red."

"He's grown up," said Stone, zipping his flight suit and checking himself in the mirror one last time. He turned to Becky, who sat beside Laura Bailey on the bed. Sean Elton and Michael Phillps stood on opposite corners of the room, and Major Block stood by the door. The women were in their Olympia flight suits as was Stone, but the men had opted for the red and black style of Stillwater's crew.

"You don't think he's acting odd?" asked Becky.

"Do the math. Jimmy's fifteen years older," said Stone. "So's Stillwater. So's everyone else on this rock that got here before us. Time changes people. Stillwater's certainly mellowed."

"He didn't call me Scrub," said Michael. "Stillwater, he always called me Scrub in the past. Not that I'm complaining."

"I don't mean to make a big deal of it," said Becky. "I just... I dunno. I know he's older. But I miss the old Jimmy."

"You're going to make Stone jealous talking like that," said Laura.

"Listen, we're all a bit disoriented because the Dominator got here first," said Stone, "But these are our people. This is Space Force. Let's be thankful that we're not alone. We have some company. Especially with those pirates out there." Brockman made a mental note to ask more questions about the so-called pirates when he got the chance. The whole space battle still felt odd to him.

"I got no complaints," said Michael. "I'm glad they did the hard part for us. I wasn't looking forward to roughing it on an alien planet."

"Neither was I," said Laura. "But it's still hard to get my mind around what happened here."

"Major Block," said Stone. "What's your gut feeling about all this?"

"I served under General Stillwater the same as you, sir," said Block. "If he says the situation is in hand, I am willing to take his word."

"All the same," said Sean Elton, "I'd like to head out to the Olympia tonight to check the hyperwave signals. That was my primary directive once we arrived, and Stillwater swept us away before I could complete my task."

"Of course," said Stone. "Block, do you have a man who can go with him?"

"I will assign one," said the space marine.

"Very good," said Stone.

There was a knock on the door. Block moved aside and let the door open. Tex stood on the other side, smiling. "There you all are. I was asked to escort you to dinner."

"Escort away," said Becky, taking the lead and young Tex's arm. Stone frowned, watching her march off with the young soldier. She had always claimed not to do anything to encourage the advances of men like Jimmy Riggs, but seeing her on Tex's arm, Stone began to doubt that.

Trish was waiting outside her door as the entourage came by. She fell in towards the back with Stone. Tex led them down to the main level, then one more level down.

The dining hall had a Valhalla feel to it, with giant wooden arches holding up the vaulted ceiling. Three long tables stretched the length of the building, two of which were already filled with members of the Dominator crew, eating silently.

In contrast to the Dominator crew, the space marines from the Olympia were laughing it up, loudly enjoying the lavish meal set before them at one end of the table. Dr. Tucker and his men sat a short, uncomfortable distance away, trying to discuss their plans over the din of the jolly space marines. Tucker glared at Becky as she and the others filled in the empty seats between the scientists and the marines.

"Nice of you to join us," the newly groomed but still slovenly scientist bellowed. "We have work to do, you know."

"Dr. Tucker," said Stone Brockman, "We have stumbled into an unexpected reality here. I suggest you take a cue from your crew mates on the end of the table and enjoy the evening. We have the rest of our lives to reassess and execute our mission."

Trish took a seat across from Stone, who sat beside Becky. Sean pulled the chair out on the other side of Stone, but just as he did, General Stillwater swooped in.

"Beg your pardon, mission specialist Elton, but I hope you don't mind," said the general.

"Not at all," said Sean, sliding one chair over.

"How have you found our hospitality so far?" Stillwater asked the group.

"So far so good," said Stone, looking to his crew for comments. Everyone nodded their agreement save for Dr. Tucker.

"Shower's too small," he grunted.

"I am sorry to hear that," said the General. "If I can modify your arrangements, I will certainly do so. We're all going to be living here a very long time, after all, and we might as well be comfortable."

"You've built quite a haven here," said Stone. "I'd love to get a better look around."

"And indeed you will," said Stillwater. "We have done a lot in ten years, and there's much more to be done. Within a century, Space Force projects that our need for living quarters will have tripled, which is why we brought architects, engineers, and geologists to help us identify natural resources and begin work on dwellings beyond this temple."

"That's incredible," said Stone.

"More than you know," said the general. "But there is much still to be done. In fact, we were just about at a stand still before you arrived. It seems, Commander, that we need your help to make the next phase of this colonization happen."

"Really?" said Stone. "How can we help?"

The general grinned. "All in good time, Commander. After dinner, you and whatever crew would like to join us will see what we have built here. Then we can discuss your role in building this new colony. For now, enjoy your feast."

The general spun out of his chair and departed as a half dozen men and women began to set the table with a lavish feast complete with foods that looked a lot like Earth food, yet had a distinctive alien look to them.

"Interesting," said Sean, surveying the landscape.

"What, uh, what's the thing with six legs sticking up there?" asked Michael Phillips.

Dr. Tucker was done waiting, and had no patience for questions. He smelled food, and he yanked a leg off the six-legged beast. He tore a chunk out of the leg with his mouth and chewed it.

"It's delicious," he proclaimed. And so the feast began.

The Olympia crew broke apart following dinner almost by group. The science team received a tour of the lab facilities to get a handle on the scientific work under taken by the Dominator crew. Sean Elton left the pyramid with one of Major Block's men, headed for the Olympia. Laura and Michael joined Stone on a tour of the pyramid, while the marines went off to drink and enjoy the company of their fellow marines.

Trish Angel chose to skip all the fun and head to bed. Trish regretted not packing her old night gown from the convent. It wasn't the most comfortable of night clothes, but compared to what the Krell colony had to offer, it was much more to her liking. The translucent green silk nightie she found in her closet looked like something out a chauvinistic future world from a pre-Star Wars 1970's sci-fi. It was too open on the sides, and too little everywhere. Trish hated it, but seeing that she had no where to be, she put the nightie on and knelt beside her bed for her nightly prayers.

A knock at the door stopped her. She grabbed the bathrobe off the hook in the bathroom and walked to the hall door, where Tex greeted her with a smile.

"Evening," he said. "I just wanted to make sure you didn't need anything before you retire for the night."

Trish saw through the lie. "You want to talk?"

His eyes widened. He gulped.

"It's okay, Tex, I don't mind. It's nice to talk about it with someone who doesn't think it's all fairy tales. Come in."

Tex entered the room. Trish shut the door behind him.

"Have a seat," she said.

He took a seat in the chair. She sat on the bed facing him.

"So, what would you like to discuss?" she asked, a bit forceful but not intentionally. Despite her devotion to the word and the practices of her order, Trish had never quite mastered the skill of gentle, interpersonal counseling.

"Well, ma'am," he began. "You said you were clergy?"

"I was Sister Maria Patricia of the Church of Saint Hubbins in San Antonio," she said. "I still am, to a degree."

"I see," he said. "Well, ma'am, I guess I'm just curious to understand what you believe a little better. I haven't been to church myself in a long, long time. But when we came here, well, I brought my Bible with me."

"Have you read it?"

"Oh yes," he said. "Many times. I just, I'm not sure I understand it. It's all about God, and God's love for the people he made."

"It is," said Trish. "It's his way of revealing himself to his people."

"But how do you get to know him?" said Tex. "I mean, there's no directions how we can know him like, like Abraham or Moses, you know?"

"There are ways we can get to know him better," said Trish. "For example, you can say the Our Father."

"The Our Father," he said. "What is the Our Father?"

"It's a prayer," said Trish. "It's a way of talking to God. Here, repeat after me."

Trish led him in the Lord's Prayer three times, each time letting him say longer and longer passages. Tex internalized it quickly, which pleased both student and teacher. But Trish could tell there was something behind his curiosity, something that troubled him.

"When you say trespasses," he said, "Forgive my trespasses, is that like when you do someone wrong?"

"Exactly," she said. "Our trespasses are the things we do that hurt God, others, or ourselves. We must ask forgiveness, and also forgive others."

"Do you really think God forgives our trespasses?" he asked. "I mean, the worst trespasses you can think of, will he forgive them?"

Trish was silent a moment, thinking about all the trespasses for which she had asked - no, begged - forgiveness.

"I hope so," was the best she could say. "If we are truly sincere when we ask, I believe he can."

Tex asked her to lead him in the prayer once more before he retired for the night. He asked her if he could talk with her more the next day, and she agreed that she would. Tex left the room half an hour after he arrived. Trish knelt beside the bed and spent another ten minutes rehashing her own trespasses before crawling into bed with the copy of St. Augustine Mother Superior insisted she take on the journey.

Around that same time, aboard the Olympia, Sean Elton was just beginning to download the hyperwave transmissions. As expected, there were a few messages from mission control regarding their mission, and several more informing them about the Dominator. But then came a transmission completely unexpected. It caught Sean off guard with its urgency, causing him to bolt upright in his seat.

"Whoa."

He had to get in touch with Stone. He had to get in touch with everyone. But Sean Elton would never get in touch with anyone. He felt a burning pain in his back that suddenly, violently, stopped his heart and his breathing. Everything faded to black as his face slumped forward on the touch screen that had just presented him with the most important message he would ever not relay in his life.
CHAPTER NINE

Stone Brockman rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as his body rose to answer the pounding door. He staggered to the door and checked the peep hole. Major Block stood on the other side, armed to the teeth and looking angry and ticked off as ever, with two other marines equally armed and angry behind him.

"Specialist Elton and my man never returned," said the Major. "We're going to the Olympia."

"Right now?"

The major nodded.

"Give me one minute."

Brockman shut the door. He pulled a black and red jumpsuit from his dresser and slipped it on with a pair of black boots. By the time he joined Block in the hall, they had company.

"Good morning, Commander," said his old pal Jimmy Riggs. "I alerted the General to your missing crew situation."

"Thank you, Jimmy," said Stone. "I think the Major and his men can handle this."

"Without question, sir," said Jimmy. "However, the General insists on bringing one of his platoons along for support."

"That won't be necessary," said Stone.

The General, his timing as impeccable as his uniform, strolled around the corner, flanked by ten heavily armored space marines. He slid into the conversation as if he had been there all along.

"Oh but it is!" said the general. "You are guests, and I insist you permit us to give support to your search."

Block's scowl grew even nastier as he whispered to his commander, "I don't like this. We don't need them."

"Major," said Stone, "The General knows this planet far better than we do. I suggest we accept his assistance."

The general's men took up station before and after the group as they moved through the facility. Block seethed as he marched along side his commander. "Are you sure we can't handle this ourselves? I can get the rest of the platoon."

Stone answered by stopping to knock on another door. "One moment, General Stillwater," he said.

Trish opened the door, hiding herself and her sheer pajamas as she did.

"Commander?" she said.

"Elton never came back last night," said Stone.

Trish nodded. "Give me a minute."

Trish shut the door. She was back in the hall in two minutes, also dressed in the black and red of the Dominator crew. Stone gave a look to the Major. Stone could tell from the slight grin on the marine's face he felt better about the situation. Four to twelve was an uncomfortable ratio. Four plus Trish was a complete game changer.

"What happened?" Trish asked Stone as they descended the last ramp to the main level.

"Elton went back to the ship with one of Block's crew," said Stone. "He was downloading all of the hyperwave communications, transmissions from Earth with updates for our particular mission. They never came back."

"How long have they been missing?" she said as Stone began to climb aboard the troop carrier.

"A few hours, maybe," said Stone. He offered his hand to Trish. In her usual manner, she ignored him and pulled herself aboard with nimble ease.

Jimmy Riggs saluted smartly from the ground as the last of the marines loaded the vehicle. Trish spotted Tex in the driver's seat as the ship passed through the lights of the pyramid into the black of night.

"There are a few dangerous beasts indigenous to our planet," said the general as the carrier began to move. "Nothing that should have given your marine trouble."

"What about those blasted pirates?" Block sneered.

"Our scans detected no activity in the skies," said the general. "We have the logs if you'd like to confirm."

"How about eyeballs on the ground?" asked Trish.

"Of course. We have two patrols on the ground watching the LZ at all times."

"And now you have two ships to watch," Major Block sneered.

"My dear major," said the general, "We've been here for ten years. We know the dangers that lurk in the shadows on this rock well enough to know what we need to protect ourselves and our assets."

"Let's hope so," said the major, checking his weapon. The man was primed and ready to blow something away. Trish marveled at his lust for blood. It seemed so long ago that she was just like him, driven by anger and blood lust. That person was still within her, of course, and the smell of laser gun oil wafting throughout the compound had pricked her inner mercenary spirit. But Trish held fast to her vow of non-violence, and she would not let a few trigger happy space marines lead her into relapse, no matter what kind of beast might have done something to Sean Elton.

The ride to the ship felt twice as long in the dark. It was hard to get any kind of bearing outside with only a faint sliver of a moon in the sky. Trish closed her eyes, trying to pick up the sound of nature on Krell, but all she could hear what the high-pitched whine of the transporter.

"We're here," said Stone. Trish opened her eyes. She could see the illuminated underbelly of the Olympia looming before them. A short distance away, the Dominator seemed to glow, with security lights aimed at its undercarriage and the newly rising sun glinting off the top.

Stone saw the two patrol vehicles parked alongside one another near the ramp, the first sign something was wrong. He started to stand to get a better look, but sat back when the general's cape whipped him in the face.

"Gentlemen, weapons ready!" the general shouted, standing to let his cape flap in the breeze right in Stone's face. All thirteen space marines stood, guns out and ready to unload at whatever threat the general had identified.

Stone fought his way through the blasted cape and stood beside the general. Trish stood beside him and saw immediately what the general had seen. A dead space marine \- make that half of a dead space marine - lay sprawled on the entry ramp.

"Man down!" Block shouted as he and his two compatriots leapt from the vehicle and raced to their fallen comrade. Stillwater's men raced after them, surrounding the ramp and transport in a cover formation.

"Where's the rest of him!!" Block shouted, turning back to the nearest patrol agent. He grabbed the man with both hands, dropping his megablaster. "Where's the rest of him???"

"Stand down, Major!" The general shouted. "That's an order."

The Major let go of the man and unloaded his anger on the general. "Where were your men when this happened?"

The general, Stone, and Trish made their way over to what was left of the body. Stone knelt beside it, examining the carnage. He pulled out a bloody fragment, something sharp and ivory underneath the blood. "Tooth," he said.

"Dogs," said the general. Two or three of his men nodded. "Bug dogs, we call them. They're more reptilian than anything. Disgusting, scaly brown creatures that scurry on all fours. They're about a meter and a half tall when they stand on their hind legs."

"Do they do that often?" asked Trish.

"When they attack," said the general.

Stone stood up. "So where's Elton?"

He looked up the ramp. There was a trail of smeared blood running down the ramp, behind it, and off into the nearby brush.

"Over there," Stone pointed.

The security detail clicked on their spotlights. Block and the other marines activated the high beam lights on their weapons. The marines fanned out and followed the trail toward the underbrush. Trish saw something scurry away as soon as a light hit it. A nervous space marine, one of Block's men, let rip with a volley of laser fire. Block held his hand up to cease fire as he approached the bushes.

"Poor devil," said Block.

The commanding officers moved in on the scene of the crime. Elton's body was dismembered, dissected into multiple parts that could barely be distinguished as human. The only identifying clue was the blood-stained mission patch on what used to be Elton's arm.

"I'm terribly sorry," said the general. "To all of you. I know it's no consolation, but we lost a few of our crew to these same vermin when we arrived. Not a pleasant way to go."

"Can we bury them?"

The general nodded. "We have a cemetery you may use to bury the dead. I'll see to the arrangements for you."

"See to it you increase your security patrols, too," said the Major.

"We will double them," said the general. "Starting tonight. And I suggest members of the Olympia crew should probably not venture out after dark unattended again."

"Agreed," said Stone.

The general assigned four men to handle the bodies. As he and Brockman discussed further preventative measures, Trish caught sight of something in the early morning light, something that awakened another part of her that had long been dormant. It wasn't the instinct to kill, but something other, that sense she used to get when something wasn't quite right.

She saw tracks in the dirt under the early morning sun that did not belong. She wanted to know why.

"Commander Brockman," said Trish. "I'd like to investigate the area a little further. For my own curiosity."

"I'm afraid that's impossible," said the general. "We just agreed that it's not safe for your to be out here alone."

"After dark," said Stone.

The general shook his head. "Let's not split hairs, commander. Dangerous is dangerous."

"So is she," said Stone.

The general turned to her. "Agreed, but I still don't want you going alone. I will leave three of my detail with you."

"We've had enough assistance from your crew," sniffed Major Block. "My men will stay with her."

"All due respect," said Stillwater, with no respect at all, "I think this morning's discovery is more than enough reason not to rely on you and your men for protection.

Stone put a hand on the Major's shoulder, holding him back. "I agree, general," said Stone. "We can use your team's support. Trish will go with your men."

"Commander," said Trish in that tone of voice he just hated, "Do you really think I need protection?"

Stone took a breath. "Will you take a gun."

"I will not," she answered.

"Then you will take someone with you who has one," he said.

Trish looked up at the transport. "Tex!"

Tex looked over. "Ma'am?"

"Do you have a weapon?" she asked.

"Just a side arm laser, ma'am," Tex replied.

"Bring it," she said. "You're coming with me."

Tex looked over at General Stillwater, who gave Tex a nod. Tex hopped off the transport and walked towards Trish, who was already headed out into the bush.

Stone looked at the general, expecting further objections. "Any problem with her taking your driver?"

Stillwater shook his head. "Tex knows the safe zones. They should be okay, until dark."

"Good," said Stone. "In that case, I suggest we have a look inside the ship, see what sort of damage we're looking at. And I'd like to recover the hyperwave data, if it's still possible."

The general nodded. "Very well." The two men turned back toward the Olympia.

Trish glanced back at the ships. Seeing the general was no longer staring daggers into her back, she slowed her pace so Tex could catch up.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"Just doing a little detective work," she said.

"Why did you ask for me?" He sounded a little nervous.

"You don't annoy me as much as most of your ship mates," she said. "And I'm pretty sure I could take you if I had to."

Tex felt his heart skip a beat. Then he saw the grin on her face. "You were joking."

She gave him a kind smile. "Not at all."

Trish knelt down to the ground, outlining an imprint in the dirt with her hand. "You see this?"

He bent down beside her. "What is it?"

"How long has it been since any of you were out here?" she asked.

"Not sure," said Tex. "We've been so busy inside the base lately, we haven't done much exploring."

"Then you're not the only humans on this rock," she said. "Because that is definitely not your bug dogs."

"Are you saying a human killed those men?" he said.

"That's what we're going to find out," she said.

Trish rose to her feet and kept on walking. Tex pulled out his blaster, making sure it was charged and ready.

"We're not going to be home before dark," he said. "Are we?"

"Depends on how long it takes us to do our job."

Tex holstered his weapon, scanning the horizon nervously. "Not that it matters, but do you really think you could, you know, take me?"

Trish smiled to herself. "Kid, there's not a man on this rock I couldn't take."

Scary as it sounded, it made Tex feel a whole lot better.
CHAPTER TEN

The news about Sean Elton and his marine guard reached the entire Olympia crew before breakfast. The space marines were ready to wreak vengeance on the native creatures responsible, while the rest of the crew found themselves too sick with grief to eat, with Dr. Rex Tucker the lone exception.

"I want my doves," he said, standing up to his commanding officer. "I survived six weeks in the bush surrounded by tigers with no tent and no weapon. Let me get my doves!"

"Out of the question!" Stone shouted.

"It's what I'm here to do!" Tucker shouted back. The two stood nose to nose in the center of a briefing room. Laura Bailey, Michael Phillips, and the entire science team sat silently, watching the two scream it out.

"Sean Elton came here to do a job as well," said Stone. "Had he been more cautious--"

"Had you been more cautious," shouted Tucker, jabbing a fat finger into Stone's chest. "Those two men would still be alive!"

Stone paused, taking a deep breath, resisting the urge to sink his fist into Dr. Tucker's fat face. Becky stood, sensing an opportunity to step in and end things peacefully.

"Dr. Tucker, we are still guests here," she began. "Until we have become more familiar with our new home and surroundings, I suggest we postpone the bird hunt. Dr. Burnette and his staff would like us to spend a few days with them before we embark on our own experiments anyway."

Stone stepped back from the mammoth scientist and broke their stare. "I agree with Dr. Burnette. Though if any of you wish to take a day or so to grieve, you have my permission."

"We're ready to get to work," said Dr. Bender. "Aren't we, Dr. Tucker?"

Tucker snorted and left the room.

"Okay," said Becky. "Main science hall in thirty minutes, everyone."

The science team filed out of the room as Stone and Becky exchanged glances. He turned to Laura and Michael.

"Stillwater's going to take us out to the ship later to check the navigation systems. He wants to make sure we're still flight capable."

"Was there any damage besides the hyperwave?" asked Michael.

Stone shook his head. "Not a thing that I could tell. But any communications mission control sent us have been lost forever."

"There's got to be another way to retrieve those messages," said Laura.

"There is," said the general, making another dramatic entrance. Jimmy Riggs trailed his commanding officer into the room.

Stone scowled. "This is a private meeting, general."

"Forgive the intrusion," said Stillwater, "But my people were able to retrieve the hyperwave communications that you were looking for. Nothing world-shaking in them, I'm afraid. Notifications of our mission and arrival and that your mission directives have been slightly altered, as we discussed."

The general handed Stone a data pad. Stone scanned the text on the screen quickly and nodded.

"General, my crew is anxious to get to work," said Stone. "Some of them wish to work outside your little home here. How long before it's okay for us to travel out in the open?"

"I've share your concerns with my own marine detachment. We have tripled patrols around the landing zone, and we are working out arrangements to allow your civilian crew access to the outside world. They may have to accept armed escort for the time being."

"Some of my crew can be a bit fussy," said Stone, thinking of how Dr. Tucker would take to being escorted by armed space marines. "I hope these measures won't last forever."

"As do I," said the General. "There's a lot of world out there to be settled. And a lot of exploring to be done. Come, let me show you a little of what we've found."

"Where are we going?" asked Stone.

"I thought you might like to see the rest of the iceberg," said the general.

The last thing Stone wanted to do was endure more of General Stillwater, but as much as he despised the tour guide, this was a tour he was dying to take.

"Very good, general," said Stone. "Let's take a look."

"This way, sirs," said Jimmy Riggs.

Riggs led the way down to the main hanger with Stone and Stillwater trailing. Stone's thoughts drifted to the wilderness, to Trish, wondering what she saw out there and whether it might have anything to do with the builders of the pyramid.

General Stillwater found the silence uncomfortable. "You've been a patient man," he said to Stone. "I've been waiting to hear you ask all about how we found this place and what else we might have found."

"I assumed its time would come," said Stone.

"Indeed it has," said Stillwater. "It was providential that we ended up here, to be perfectly frank. The LZ where your ship rests was our original landing zone, chosen before we left home. Upon our arrival, I sent out two squads of space marines to do reconnaissance, survey the area. You can imagine our surprise when, an hour later, one of them reported finding this pyramid."

"I can," said Stone. "I'm still somewhat in awe myself."

"Best as we can determine, this building is at least a millennium old, possibly more. They only sent scientists with me expecting to document vegetation and animal life, so without expert assistance, we've all become amateur archaeologists."

They reached the hanger area, and Jimmy led them to a strange looking aircraft. It was about the size of a sports car with an open top and two fins angled downward about four feet on each side. It sat atop three retractable legs, and Stone could see four small booster jets along the rear of the aircraft. Jimmy hopped in the front, and the general climbed in the back.

"Come aboard, Commander," he said. "I assure you, it's perfectly safe. Last minute addition to our mission equipment that came in quite handy when we discovered this place."

Stone gave the aircraft another going over with his eyes before climbing aboard. "Got seatbelts on that thing?"

"Certainly," said the general. "In fact, I strongly urge you to use one."

Soon as Stone was strapped in, the craft rose off its legs into the air, humming quietly. A muffled burn behind Stone propelled the craft forward. Jimmy angled them toward a sealed door in the wall, where two men in black and red jumpsuits stood waiting. As the aircraft approached, they moved the door to the right. The aircraft slid right into the opening.

Jimmy banked the craft down a winding passage, dimly lit by the running lights and headlights on the hovercraft. Stone could make out drawings on the walls of strange, bi-pedal creatures and fantastic monsters, no doubt chronicling the history of this strange world.

"Fascinating, isn't it?" said the general. "If these old walls could speak."

"With the right linguistics experts, perhaps some day they will," said Stone.

"Perhaps," said the general.

"Are these the ancestors of the space pirates?" asked Stone.

"Hard to say," said the general. "But as I told you before, this is merely the tip of the iceberg."

The tunnel came to an end, and the hovercraft drifted out over a vast, open cavern five times the depth of the Grand Canyon. The walls of the below ground chamber opened out, continuing the pyramid shape that Stone had seen above ground level in the upper pyramid. The series of ramps descending the walls were in poor shape, having deteriorated over time, but Stone could see what was once a vast city of underground dwellers. Hundreds, maybe thousands of holes in the wall marked the entry ways to untold chambers and passage ways, waiting to be explored.

Stone saw dozens of air cars drifting through the cavern, many of them with trailers in tow. It was then that Stone truly understood why General Stillwater was so eager to replace him and his crew, and why a man like Senator Carlos would have a personal interest in seeing such a thing happen.

"You're mining, aren't you?" said Stone. "That's why Carlos was involved. His family was into oil and coal."

"And he was determined to corner the mineral rights on Krell," said the general. "Yes, it's all true. Not that he lived to see any profit, of course, but back home, his heirs are thrilled with the many discoveries we have made. The Senator truly set his family up for life."

Stone continued to survey the alien cavern. At the center of it all, stretching up from the abyss, was a giant, headless statue of an alien figure armed for battle, with one defiant arm still outstretched clutching a curved blade. Jimmy took the aircraft down for a closer look at the statue, circumventing the upper torso and ducking below its weapon hand.

"Wonder who that was," mused Stone.

"He must have been a great conqueror," said the general. "I've spent hours down here in his presence curious to know who he was, how he rose to such greatness. I like to imagine I'm his successor, the new conquering hero, subduing a new planet for my people."

Stone kept silent, a bit unnerved by his superior's megalomaniacal confession.

"One day, we will be the ones enshrined by the masses," said Stillwater. "We are the new pilgrims, the new pioneers of mankind. Our faces will be cut into stone just like his."

"Only to fall off and drop into the caverns below," said Stone, wondering how things might have been different if he hadn't recruited Trish. What if it was he giving the tour of the alien chambers rather than Stillwater? Would he be the one on the verge of madness?

"Jimmy, take us back," said the general. Jimmy tipped the nose of the vehicle upward and steered them back the way they came.

Stillwater went on. "As you can see, we have much to learn from this planet, and much to share with those back on Earth. I want to send some artifacts back for study. I want to give the Space Force reason to justify sending more people. Not just scientists, but archaeologists. And linguists, as you suggested."

"People who can tell us more about ancient Krell," said Stone.

"Exactly," said General Stillwater. "Unfortunately, we have a problem."

"The pirates," said the Commander. "If you send your ship back, you'll be defenseless."

The general nodded. "It's not just defense that concerns me. Our navigational systems were destroyed in a space battle. Without those, we cannot get back to Earth. But now that you are here, we can download the coordinates for Earth from your ship to ours."

Stone nodded. "We can help you with that."

"Excellent," said the general. "We will begin preparations for a return mission right away. Tomorrow, you and your crew will assist us in acquiring the data we need to travel to Earth."

The aircraft re-entered the access tunnel. Stone cast his eyes about for another look at the art on the wall.

"I wonder how strange Earth will look to those who go back," said Stone. "By then, it will be two centuries since we last left."

"It will be like visiting a whole new world," said Stillwater. "What an adventure that will be!"
CHAPTER ELEVEN

"I think we should turn back."

Trish looked down the hill at her escort, who looked up at her with fatigue in his eyes. "The sun's starting to go down. General Stillwater insisted we be back by dark."

Trish shook her head. "Not gonna happen, Tex."

"But the general said!"

Trish turned to her companion. "Do you do everything your commanding officer tells you?"

Tex paused a moment, not sure how to answer that. He opted for the truth. "Yes."

Trish looked around. She was half way up a steep hill in the heart of a forest, surrounded by trees that rivaled the California Redwoods for width and height. The trees had a plastic, waxy look to their bark, and their leaves were a brighter, more fluorescent color than those on Earth. It was familiar, but at the same time very alien.

It was also near impossible to get a look at the sky and get your bearings.

"We'll never make it," said Trish. "And the trail's still fresh, so I'm not giving it up."

"We don't even know what we're tracking," said Tex.

Trish shook her head. "Come up here. Let me show you something."

Tex took a deep breath and climbed his way up the hill to Trish's spot. She crouched and pointed at a swatch of leaves across the dirt.

"See this?" she said. She brushed the leaves aside, revealing a few footprints crossing over one another. "Our prey stopped here and tried to cover their tracks."

Tex looked at her. "They did?"

She nodded. "Whoever this was doesn't want to be found. That's why I can't turn back."

"Sounds to me like a good reason to go back and bring reinforcements," said Tex.

Trish shook her head. "There's only one, maybe two of them."

"There might be more when we get where we're going!" said Tex. "And if they're covering their tracks, that makes them intelligent and that makes them dangerous."

Trish smirked. "They're not that intelligent."

"How do you know?" he asked.

"They did a lousy job covering their tracks."

Trish rose to her feet and continued on. Tex struggled to keep up.

"We can't keep going all night," he protested. "Can we?"

She shrugged. "I can."

Tex sighed. "Can we at least rest some place when it gets dark?"

"Do you remember your first communion?" she asked, ignoring his request.

Tex flinched. "My what?"

"First communion," she said. "Did you ever receive it?"

"I, uh, yeah, I did," he said. "It was a long time ago, though."

"Tell me about it," she said.

"Not much to tell," he said. "Not that I remember."

Trish smiled to herself. It was a diversion that had worked a few times throughout their journey. Any time Tex got a little too whiny, she brought up their mutual faith. They talked about the liturgy, the gospels, the sacraments. Confession in particular seemed to strike a nerve with Tex. it made her wonder what secrets this nice boy from Texas might be holding in his heart.

She enjoyed the talks, even though she mostly found herself in the role of teacher, a role she tried hard to avoid at the convent. Trish preferred the solitude of devotions and prayers to any sort of human interaction. In fact other than the dodgeball team, she had managed to avoid doing just about anything that required interaction with pupils. But Trish's studies had more than equipped her for teaching Tex, who either spent a lot of time sleeping through mass or otherwise just didn't pay any attention.

They stopped to discuss advent season over some berries and water near a stream at the bottom of the hill. The forest was getting very dark, and knowing that Tex wouldn't make it far once the sun set, she started looking for cover.

At the crest of the next hill, Trish spotted a small stone structure that would make perfect cover for the night. It was round at the base, about twenty feet in diameter, with twelve foot walls and a stepped dome on top. A stone overhang that once stood on two columns lay in pieces at the entry way along side the bases of the two columns, partially blocking the entry way. A tangle of brown vines draped over the door and the fallen stones.

Without a word to Tex, Trish made her way to the tiny structure. Tex froze when he saw it.

"We can't go in there!"

"Why not?" she asked.

"Well, I..." he stumbled over his words, as if looking for a good reason. "How do we know it's safe?"

"We'll check it out." She pulled two glow sticks out of a hip pocket. "That's why we have these, right?"

"There's got to be a better way," he said.

Trish turned away from Tex, ignoring his protests as she cracked one of the glowsticks. The chemicals inside reacted with one another, and a bright green light emanated from the stick in Trish's hand. She walked down to the small building and grabbed hold of a vine draped over the entry way.

"Don't pull that!" Tex screamed.

Before she could react, the vine tensed, coiling itself around Trish four times and lifting her in the air. Trish kicked and flailed as the vine lifted her high. She raised the glowstick high and found herself staring into the eyes of a beast with a cat-like face. It was dark brown, like the vine that now clutched her, with green eyes and two black horns jutting six inches out from its brow. A mouth full of razor sharp teeth opened and dripped saliva as the creature sized up its prey.

Trish got her bearings and realized the vine was actually the tail of the deadly creature. The beast was fifteen feet long from rump to nose, and its tail probably three times that length. Trish felt the tail constricting around her as the creature raised up on four legs and sized her up.

She was calm. She was cool. She took a deep breath and stared into the creature's eyes.

"It's okay," she whispered. "I'm not here to hurt you."

The creature growled at her. Trish breathed slowly, keeping her wits about her. She had no fear in her.

"It's okay," she said. "I'm a friend."

ZAP!

The creature's right eyeball exploded in a puff of green blood.

Trish fell to the ground hard as the tail slacked around her body. The creature roared in pain. Trish sat up and caught sight of Tex as he took aim at the creature again.

"No!!"

ZAP!

This one caught the creature in the mouth, silencing it's painful cries. It toppled awkwardly off the stone building and crashed beside Trish, dead.

Trish stood, her face red with fury, ready to unload on Tex. Sensing her anger, he began his defense. "It was going to kill you!"

"You don't know that!"

"You don't know this planet like I do!" he shouted back. He calmed himself down before he went on. "I'm sorry. I know you don't like killing, but sometimes it's kill or be killed. I couldn't take the chance and let that thing get you."

Trish held her tongue. She wanted to lash out at him. All the death and carnage she had wreaked upon alien life forms in the past, the last thing she wanted was the green blood of another alien on her hands.

She turned to the lifeless creature lying on the ground. The dumb beast had done nothing to deserve death, save follow its own instinct. But much as Trish wanted to believe she could have talked it down, she might very well be dead if not for Tex's quick trigger.

Maybe I deserve to be dead, she thought. As much death as I have caused...

She turned back to Tex. The young man had done what he sincerely felt was good and right. She could not fault him for that. She wouldn't fault him for that.

Besides, it might be nice to eat something other than berries today.

"Are these any good for eating?" she asked.

Tex was surprised. "You want some dinner?"

She nodded. "I'll fix up our shelter. You killed it, you grill it."

The boy from Texas grinned. That was one command he had no problem following.
CHAPTER TWELVE

"I'm a little confused," said Michael, chewing on another bite of mystery meat. "Why did they need to wait for us before planning a trip home?"

Stone sat at the end of the center table with his co-pilot and engineer, his own plate already empty. Much as he enjoyed whatever the heck it was he had been served at this meal and others, he found the food less filling that what he was used to on Earth - or maybe he was just that hungry after two years in space with no food.

"The pirates kind of put them in a tough spot," said Stone. "They can't leave the colony undefended while they send the ship back. Just look at American history."

"No, I get that," said Michael. "They need some big guns to keep the raiders at bay. Makes total sense. What doesn't make sense is the story about the nav computer. There's no reason they can't get the navigational data they need off the Dominator."

"The navigational data is on a central hard drive in the ship's core," added Laura. "A few short cuts, and they should be able to access that data from any other terminal on the ship. It's one of the emergency features built into the Olympia."

Stone nodded. "Wonder why they haven't tried that," said Stone.

"Like you said, they needed some big guns to leave behind," said Laura. "Are they fitting our ship with guns?"

"They're working on that tomorrow," said Stone.

"I'm not sure how I feel about that," said Laura.

"We should have had guns before we left home," growled Major Block.

Laura frowned at the space marine. "Is there any place you don't take a gun?"

Major Block thought for a moment. "Nope. Even in the shower, I keep it draped over the shower rod."

"Regardless of our feelings on the matter, I think we're all thankful the Dominator had weapons when we arrived," said Stone.

"Agreed," said Major Block. The others nodded as well.

"This is a more dangerous world than we knew when we left home," said Stone. "Let's be thankful they brought the guns they did."

"And that they made it here first," added Block.

Stone dismissed his crew with orders to be ready to return to Olympia after breakfast. Once everyone was gone, he did a sweep of the hangar and other public areas, searching for Trish. Even though she had not been seen since early morning, the last thing Stone feared was that she might be dead. If Trish was not back by dark, she had a reason. Stone was not about to send the troops out after her. He'd faced that wrath before during the Martian War.

Stone made his way up to the dorms and rapped on Trish's door. He gave her a minute to answer. When there was no response, he moved several doors down and rapped on another door. This time, there was an answer.

"Good evening, Commander," said Becky Bender, holding the door wide open as she stood there in her sheer pink pajamas. "Is everything okay?"

"Fine," said Stone, his instinct telling him otherwise. Becky looked at him with almost an indifference, as if she was looking through him and not at him. "Is everything okay with you? I didn't see you at dinner."

"Forgive me," she said. "We worked late this evening, and we ended up bringing dinner into the observatory. I hope that's not a problem."

"Not at all," said Stone. "Must have been an exhausting day." '

"It was," she said. "I'm very tired."

"Okay then," said Stone. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Good night, sir," she said. She closed the door.

Stone stood there for a moment, trying to figure out what had just happened. Becky had never been that formal with him, even when they first met. It was she who went after him in more than a co-worker sense. She was always playful, even when she was tired. Could she really be that tired?

Stone walked back to his own room. Jimmy Riggs passed him in the hall. He didn't turn. He didn't smile. He didn't say a word. Suddenly, Stone felt what Becky had felt that first day on Krell. Something strange was going on here.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Trish wasn't sure about the warm, green center when Tex served her a slab of grilled whiptail cat, as he had taught her to call it. But two bites in, Trish decided it was just as satisfying and delicious as any steak she had ever tasted, even if it could use a little salt.

"Needs salt, doesn't it?" Tex said, grinning with a mouth full of cat. Trish nodded, and Tex did the same. "That's what everyone says."

"It could use a little," she said. "But it's still pretty tasty. The marbling gives it a nice flavor."

"Sorry I upset you by killing it," he said. "I hope you know, I was only trying to help."

She nodded. "You did what you thought was right. I can't fault you for that."

Tex chewed on her words, and his whiptail, for a moment. "So when you do confession, do you have to confess things you did wrong, even if you didn't know they were wrong at the time?"

Trish swallowed another bite. "If you know they are wrong, you should confess them," said Trish. "Even if you were ignorant of them at the time."

Tex set his food down on a stone block and leaned back against the interior wall of the crypt. Lit by a half dozen glow sticks, the room had an eery glow to it. The walls were rounded like the exterior, with square blocks at regular intervals around the room. Tex sat beside one of these blocks, leaning against it, facing Trish at the center of the room, who leaned back against the cubic sarcophagus in the middle of the chamber, the final resting place of some ancient, powerful being, no doubt.

It made for a perfectly somber place to think about things like life, death, and sin. Trish felt perfectly at home, but Tex was clearly troubled.

"When was the last time you did confession?" Trish asked.

Tex grinned. "Goodness, I can't really remember, I'd say a long time."

"It's a little irregular," said Trish, "But if you need to confess something, I can take your confession."

Tex grinned, looking down and grabbing his dinner. "I dunno. It seems a little weird, not being in a church and all."

"We're in a tomb," said Trish. "It doesn't get much more sacred than this."

He looked sideways at her, chewing on a piece of meat. "Naw. I don't want to give you a wrong impression."

Trish shrugged, content to eat her dinner as well. "Suit yourself."

Tex stared at the woman in front of him, trying to figure her out. "They tell me you were a great warrior once. Is that why they recruited you for this expedition?"

"What if it was?" she said coyly.

"So why did a warrior give up war?" asked Tex.

Trish didn't want to talk about it, but she sensed Tex would be far more probing than she chose to be with him. Better to give him an edited answer and be done with it than to try and deflect his questions.

"I had a lot to confess," she said. "And a lot to atone for. I took so many lives during the war, I just couldn't carry that weight. The one place I found peace was in a convent."

Tex looked confused. "They were all bad, weren't they?"

"Who was?"

"The Martians you killed," he said. "They were bad. They were hurting people. You had to kill to defend your people."

Trish could sense Tex struggling with his own emotions. "They were only doing what they were born to do, to feed."

"But if you didn't kill them, they'd have eventually killed you, and everyone on Earth. Right?"

Trish had heard this same speech many times before from no less than Mother Superior.

"Taking a life is taking a life," she said.

"But you saved lives too," said Tex. "Doesn't that make it okay?"

Trish's thoughts turned to the book Mother Superior had given her before she left, insisting she read it. It was St. Augustine's treatise on just war. She had never thought of the Martian War in that context, but for some reason, Tex had her reconsidering the huge burden she had carried for so long.

Perhaps she had done the right thing. She had saved an entire planet from destruction. True, the creatures she destroyed were not intelligent creatures like humans, but did that make her any less justified in defending her people from destruction?

"They were just animals," said Tex. "Probably good eating too, I imagine."

Trish looked at Tex. She smiled. "Kind of gamey."

Tex laughed. "There's still a bit of killer left in you, isn't there?"

Trish popped the last of the meat in her mouth. "Good night, Tex."

She stood up and walked around the crypt, finding a place to lay down. She shut her eyes, but sleep did not come quickly. Her thoughts drifted back to her last day in the convent, the day of Stone's visit. Her mind was made up to stay, and after dodgeball practice, she headed to her room for some private reflection. That's when she found Mother Superior waiting for her with a pair of clean combat boots and a tattered but washed battle suit in her lap.

The old woman of God looked at her. "It's not your fault."

Trish didn't have to ask what the senior nun was talking about. "Tell that to the aliens I slaughtered."

"Soulless creatures," said Mother Superior. "Creatures who threatened the very existence of our planet."

"Maybe they were God's wrath and judgment," said Trish.

"Now you sound like a Baptist," said Mother Superior.

Trish turned to go, to look for solitude elsewhere. Mother Superior stood. "If you ever read Saint Augustine, which I can tell you have not, you would understand the idea of just war. The war you fought was just in every way. You fought valiantly. You saved Creation. It's what you do."

"I serve the Lord now," said Trish. "I could do so much more here."

Mother Superior stood. "Some are meant to feed the hungry. Some are meant to teach the Word. Some, my child, are made to do the things that ordinary men and women cannot. And occasionally... oh what was it I heard the kids saying on the playground saying? Kick a little mule?"

Trish nodded, trying not to smile.

"You have the opportunity to go on a mission like no other," the old woman said. "You can establish our order on a new world, prepare the way for the pilgrims to come."

Trish looked at her spiritual leader. "And if there's war?"

The old woman held the battle suit and boots out to their rightful owner.

"Do what the Lord made you to do," said Mother Superior. "Defend His people, and kick a mule with extreme prejudice." 
CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Stone thought he was having another dream about the war. He heard the shouts of men in combat, the screams of the wounded, the frantic cries of their brothers in arms, looking for someone to lend a hand. A loud crash echoing through the pyramid snapped him awake with the shocking revelation that it was not a dream, but very real.

Stone threw a jumpsuit on and raced out the door, headed down the ramp. The closer he got to the bottom, the louder the ruckus became. Reaching the ground floor, he raced toward the hangar, only to be restrained by one of General Stillwater's marines.

"I'm sorry, Commander," said the space marine. "You need to keep back."

Stone could see angry, swearing space marines pouring off two troop carriers, including a few of his own. He searched frantically for Major Block, General Stillwater, someone with some authority.

"What's going on?"

"Sir, please, just return to your room," said one of Stillwater's men.

"What happened, marine?"

"Sir, I assure you, it's--"

"Tell me what happened!" Stone shouted.

"Commander!" Major Block jumped down from the nearest carrier and waved to the young marine. "It's okay, trooper. I've got him."

The young space marine relented, letting Stone pass by. Stone met Major Block half way. "Major?"

"It was the pirates, Commander," said Block. "They dropped two ships out of hyperspace. Nearly caught us by surprise."

"Is anyone injured?"

"A few," said Block. "We lost one of ours, and the General lost a few."

Stone saw a stretcher lowered from the troop carrier, a white sheet draped over the top of some corpse beneath. Where Stone expected to see red stains, he saw a pale, pasty green.

"What happened there?"

Block looked at the stretcher as two space marines carried it out of the hangar.

"That's one of them, sir," said Block.

Stone looked at Block. "An alien?"

The grizzled space marine nodded. "Took him alive, but barely. The General wants to see what information we can get out of him."

"You mean torture him," said Stone.

"Is there a problem with that?" General Stillwater strolled into the hangar behind Stone, his cape drifting regally behind him.

"Is that what we do?" said Stone. "Is that how we want to handle matters with an intelligent species like our own?"

"Do you want to make this a debate about war and morality, Commander? Perhaps you'd like to delve into your own history with the Martian War."

Stone let the matter drop. "Why wasn't I informed we were under attack?"

"I had the situation in hand," said the general. "As ranking officer, it was my battle."

"Yet you chose to commandeer my men," said Stone.

"Your men are now under my authority," said the general. "As are you. I suggest you remember that moving forward. You and your crew."

Stone nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Speaking of your crew, your pilot never returned last night," said the general. "I only discovered this when I found my driver not in his quarters this morning. I presume you were not aware of this?"

"No, sir," said Stone.

"Not to worry," said the general. "I've sent a search team out this morning. Whatever Trish was after, if she hasn't caught it now, it's gone. I trust you'll help me convey that to her."

Stone nodded half-heartedly. "I am at your command, general."

Stillwater strode into the thick of the action, satisfied his subordinate would fall in line. Block looked at his immediate superior.

"Something wrong, Commander?"

Stone kept his eyes on the general. "I hope not. But I'm getting a bad feeling."

"What do you want to do about it?"

Stone looked at Block. "Not a thing for now. Keep your eyes and ears open. If you see something unusual--"

"You will be the first to know," Major Block pledged.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Trish had always known Texans to be good cooks. Tex did not let her down. The next morning she woke to the sound and smell of crackling bacon, more spoils from the beast that lay rotting outside their shelter.

Climbing out of the ancient alien tomb, Trish saw a thin, flat rock stretched over the fire from the night before. On top of the rock a dozen strips of greenish-brown bacon sizzled, green grease dripping off the rock on all sides. Despite the sickly green tint to the whole scene, it smelled amazing.

"It's bacon." Trish turned and saw Tex perched on top of the tomb, where he could keep an eye on the food and a lookout. "Not quite the same as back home, but where I come from it's a delicacy."

"It's a delicacy to a lot of folks," said Trish.

"Really?" Tex slid off the tomb. "So it's not just a Texas thing."

"Not hardly," said Trish. "You didn't get around much, did you?"

"I guess not," said Tex. He picked up a pair of sticks and gingerly removed the bacon from the hot stone. "Here you go. Breakfast is served."

Trish took a bite of bacon so hot, it nearly burned her fingers. It crumbled and melted in her mouth, and the fat, greasy goodness was... well, it wasn't pig like Tex said, but it had been a long time since she'd had bacon cooked this well. Sister Mary Margaret was a great cook, but her bacon was always the worst.

Tex smiled as he saw her shove the rest of her first piece in her mouth. "How much farther do you plan to go?"

Trish shrugged. "Not far," said Trish. "Truth be told, I thought we were getting pretty close last night before someone had to stop and sleep."

Tex was a little slow in getting to where he knew she was talking about him, and slower still to realize she was joking. "You're joking with me, right?"

"Yes, Tex," she said.

He smiled.

Then he fell backward, hard and violent, knocked down by a laser bolt.

Instinct kicked in, and Trish dove forward, following the direction of the laser blast and taking cover simultaneously. Two more bolts blew past her as she scrambled over a log and took another cover position, moving in on her prey. Singed wood chips blasted her on all sides as the unknown assailant tried to cut her down.

Trish raced for another piece of cover five feet away, moving ever closer. As the laser gun clipped away at the tree where she hid, she took stock of the situation. There was only one attacker with one gun. His first shot had been well-aimed, but he was firing erratically now. He was on the run, and he was definitely afraid.

Most interesting of all, from the sound of the blast, Trish knew he was firing a Zellwig MC-138 laser pistol - an Earth-made weapon.

This was no alien.

Trish made another quick move, closing in, allowing the gunman to get a bearing on her so she could get one on him. Fifteen yards away now. She tucked and rolled toward a fallen log. This time she hazarded a look up toward the source of the gunfire and spotted him.

One man.

Now twelve yards away.

She crawled under the log and ran for another tree.

The gunman fired twice as he stood up, turned, and ran.

Got you.

Trish hurdled through the brush, weaving in and out of the trees. The gunman fired over his shoulder, but his aim was wild. He got off three shots before Trish was on top of him, twisting his gun hand out of joint and pinning him face first in the dirt.

The gunman laughed. "Been a long time, Trish. You haven't lost your touch."

The voice was familiar. "Ace?" Trish rolled the man on his back. His perfect hair was gone, replaced with a shaggy, matted mane that showed a shocking amount of gray, and his once handsome face was now obscured mostly by a mountain man beard, but there was no mistaking that voice.

"If I had known it was you, I'd have never shot at you," said Ace Cutter. "Believe me. I know better."

"Why did you shoot at us?"

He laughed. "I wasn't shooting at you. I was aiming for him."

"Tex?" said Trish.

Ace nodded. "So it's true. They are pretending to be us."

Trish pulled Ace to his feet. "What's going on, Ace?"

"You won't believe me unless you see it yourself," he replied.

Ace nodded in the direction of the tomb. Trish took his gun and pushed him ahead. There was no need to restrain him physically; they both knew who the superior fighter was.

Tex was gone, but in his place was a trail of blood, leading back the way Trish had come the night before. But the blood was not the red blood of the human. It was green like the blood of the whiptail cat.

Trish heard him moving. He had only made it about thirty yards away, bleeding as he was from a shoulder wound. He weakly held up his laser gun at Trish, but dropped it, unable to keep it steady. There were tears in his eyes as he held out hands stained in green blood.

"Please," he said, "Please. Before you kill me, I need to make my confession."
CHAPTER SIXTEEN

"Well that's... different."

The Olympia indeed looked different, outfitted as it was with twin laser cannons on the front and the swivel gun that Stillwater's men were still securing onto the dorsal side of the ship.

Stone, Laura, and Michael stepped off the carrier, all eyes fixed on the ship. They had known it was coming, and why, and yet, it was still startling.

"Will it fly with all that crap stuck on it?" Laura asked.

Michael shrugged. "Didn't seem to hurt the Dominator."

"Dominator's weapons are all retractable, no parts sticking out during blast off or re-entry," said Laura. "This is... well, it's kind of scary."

"Let's hope the pirates think so," said Jimmy Riggs, walking down from the Olympia. Stone was surprised to see Becky Bender at his side as well.

"Morning, Jimmy, Dr. Bender," said Stone. "No science tours today?"

Becky turned to Stone. "I have work to do on the Dominator today, but General Stillwater thought you might appreciate my company for a short while," she said not at all warmly.

"The general is very thoughtful," said Stone, confused by her cold tone. "Jimmy, my crew and I were discussing the issue with the navigation systems on the Dominator. We were wondering if we might have access to the command center to see if we can retrieve the data you need from the ship's hard drive."

"I'm afraid that won't be possible," said Jimmy. "Science and security personnel only on the Dominator today, per General Stillwater's orders."

"I see," said Stone.

Becky forced a smile. "Come on, Commander, let's get to your ship."

Becky grasped his hand, weaving her fingers in-between his. It was a sweet gesture, but awkward; she had never done this in public before.

And her hand was ice cold.

He pulled back. "Not at work, doctor."

Stone gave a wary look to Michael and Laura as he led them up toward the Olympia. Now he had two missions to accomplish for the day: recovering the navigational data, and getting a look at whatever was happening on the Dominator.

"My name is unpronounceable in your tongue," said Tex. "Nevertheless, I ask you to please bless me, for I have sinned."

Tex leaned against the side of the tomb. The wound in his shoulder had slowed its bleeding, thanks to the two sleeves Trish had ripped from her jumpsuit to create a make-shift bandage. Ace sat a short distance away, scowling.

"What are you sins, my son?" said Trish.

"I have killed many of your people," he said. "It was wrong. I knew it was wrong. But I was afraid to speak out."

"Why were you afraid?"

"Our leader," he said. "The one you know as General Stillwater. He was the one who decided you were a threat. He turned us against you."

"Tell me what happened," said Trish. "All of it."

"I can tell you," said Ace.

Trish shot him a deadly stare, shutting him up.

"We are the original inhabitants of this world," said Tex. "We did not die out, as we told you and your commander. When your people arrived with General Stillwater, we were not certain whether you were good or evil. He said you had come in peace. We received them in peace at first. I may be wrong, but I don't believe your people expected to find anyone living here."

"My people had only seen the exterior of your planet," said Trish. "We never thought you might be below ground."

"We were amazed by your technology," said Tex. "It was far ahead of our own. We knew we could learn a lot from you."

"I'm sure we could learn from one another," said Trish.

"The man, Tex, he was a very good man," said Trish. "A holy man. He carried a rosary like yours. I liked him very much."

"Then why did you kill him?" Ace growled.

Trish ignored Ace. "Something went bad. Didn't it?"

"Our leader wanted your technology," he said. "More than that, he wanted your planet. He wished to be a conqueror of worlds like our Ancient King, the one whose pyramid we inhabit."

Tex patted the side of the tomb. "This was one of his wives, by the way."

Trish nodded, his fear and reluctance to enter the tomb now a little more clear.

"General Stillwater was not a man of peace," said Tex. "Our leader knew this, and he used it to his advantage. He provoked the general into an act of violence. Once Stillwater shot first, he called on his people to avenge the blood of those killed. He demanded we rise up and strike back, take the people and the technology for ourselves."

"They slaughtered us," said Ace. "We had the better weapons, but there were so many of them." It wasn't an angry tone. Trish could sense the anguish in his voice.

"I killed many of your people," said the alien Tex. "I did it to save myself. Many of us did."

"You were afraid what would happen to you," said Trish, "If you didn't go along with the purge."

"It was foolish," said Tex.

"But not uncommon," said Trish. "Sorry to say my people have made the same kind of mistake many, many times."

"I didn't kill him," said Tex. "The man whose skin I wear. I couldn't. In the heat of battle, I saw one of our own stab him. He fell at my feet, and I drug him to safety. At first I thought I might save him, but I could see his wound was too deep."

The alien impostor began to tear up. "He pulled out his rosary. He said the Our Father. He told me he forgave me. And then, he died."

Ace snorted, shaking his head, unmoved by the story. Trish kept her eyes focused on Tex. She believed his sentiment was real.

"Can your God still forgive me?" asked Tex, choking on his tears. "Can he forgive me?"

"He can," said Trish. She led him in the Our Father prayer, placing her beads in his hands. He closed his eyes and rested.

"Why would you forgive him?" Ace growled. "The filthy lizard deserves to rot in Hell!"

Trish scooped up a rock and tossed it at Ace, smacking him in the head. He yelped as red blood trickled from the wound.

"What was that for?" he howled.

"To make sure you're human," she said. "And you had it coming."

Trish sat next to Ace. "Will he live?"

Ace nodded. "I missed his head," said the old pilot. "That's where you gotta tap 'em to kill 'em."

"So you've been living off the land all this time?" she said.

"There were four of us initially," said Ace. "Lizards got two, and one of those big cats got the third."

"And you survived?"

"Disappointed?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I'm impressed. As serious as you took survival training, I figured you'd be dead in a day if you were ever stranded."

Ace rolled his eyes. "There was a compliment in there somewhere."

Trish went on. "So Stillwater's an alien with designs on invading our planet."

"That's exactly right," said Ace.

"Then who are the space pirates?" asked Trish.

"Space pirates?" said Ace.

"When we dropped out of hyperspace, another ship came out at the same time, guns blazing. The Dominator destroyed it."

Ace laughed. "Is that what they're calling them? That's a good story."

"So they're not pirates," said Trish.

Ace shook his head. "Those are our people."

"Our people?"

"Trish, you think technology on Earth is at a stand still?" said Ace. "After I and the other survivors got away, we sent a signal back to Earth that we had trouble. Space Force has send half a dozen of their newest, fastest warships out here to blast the Dominator and these lizards to kingdom come."

"And us?" said Trish.

Ace shrugged. "If they could keep you and your crew from landing, they could keep Earth's location hidden from the lizards."

"Why do you insist on calling us that word?" said Tex.

"Because it's what you are," said Ace. "Nothing but common lizards."

"Reptilian creatures," said Trish, "Native to our home world. It's a derogatory term, meant to be an insult."

"If these lizards are as cruel as my people have been," said Tex, "I would understand your choice of words."

"You have it coming," said Ace.

"I tell you," said Tex, "Not all of us are creatures of hate and violence. Stillwater has his devout followers, but there are many who will gladly welcome the coming of the Dakhobbas."

Trish turned to Tex. Ace cocked his head, puzzled. "The coming of who?"

"The Dakhobbas," said Tex. "Zedrea spoke of him long ago. The Dakhobbas would save us from a terrible evil. At last, he has come to our world to save us. Except he is not a he. He is a she."

Tex turned to Trish. "You, Trish Angel, you are the Dakhobbas."

"What does it mean?" she said. "I don't understand."

Tex thought a moment, then he answered. "Roughly translated, I think it means, the Patron Saint of Galactic Warfare."

Trish shook her head, unwilling to believe her ears. "Please, don't ever call me that again. Ever."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

"When I was just a podling, my father told me the tale of King Zedrea," Tex began. "That's the closest I can come to saying his name in your words. Zedrea was more than just a ruler. He was a poet, and a seer. It was said that he could see the future, and he predicted much of our planet's history.

"Zedrea and his people lived above ground. Zedrea saw the wasteful way his people lived, and he predicted that one day, we would have to move below ground. Zedrea believed it so much, he began construction on pyramids like the one your people discovered.

"Zedrea also spoke about a day when a dark lord would rise among us. The dark lord would not be nobility, but a commoner who rejected our ways. He would refuse the simple path set before him and choose a path of bloodshed that would lead him to the throne. He would be his own teacher, his own parent, and finally, our ruler.

"Having seized power by force, the dark lord would set his eyes beyond our world. He would subdue the lower realms as well as the land above, and then, his eyes would turn to the Heavens.

"But that is when the Dakhobbas would come."

"You mean Trish," said Ace, munching on a piece of charred alien animal flesh.

Tex nodded. "It's strange, all the illustrations and depictions we had made the Dakhobbas out to be a male, not a female. I never would have believed when you arrived you could be the one."

"Prophecy isn't given so we know exactly what will happen," said Trish. "It's so the true believers can keep their faith through the journey and one day, look back to see how it all came true."

"Stillwater thinks it's Commander Brockman," said Tex. "He's replacing all of your crew the same way he did the crew of the Dominator."

Trish stood up, alarmed. "He's already begun replacing us?"

Tex nodded. "I'm very sorry. Your soldiers, and most of your crew are now dead."

"Told you they were savages," said Ace.

"And as soon as Stone's out of the way, Stillwater intends to attack Earth," said Trish.

"That is the plan," said Tex. "But you won't let that happen. Will you?"

Trish looked at Ace. She turned back to Tex. "I'm a woman of faith. I came out here looking to spread that faith and see that it was waiting for those who came after me. I didn't come here to liberate another world."

"But you will," said Tex.

"She's done it before," said Ace. "When our planet was invaded, she was right in the thick of things. She is death incarnate."

"Not any more," said Trish.

"The Dakhobbas isn't a murderer," said Tex. "The Dakhobbas is a defender of the weak, and the only one who can return peace to my planet."

Ace looked at Trish. "Sure sounds like you."

Trish shook her head. She didn't want to hear it, but the more Tex spoke, the more she realized the decision was out of her hands. If she did nothing, what would become of her and the rest of the Olympia crew? She might escape into the wilderness to find her peace, but Stone and the others would die.

Trish stepped away, struggling to wrap her mind around everything. Mankind discovered Krell, a world light years away with a similar atmosphere to Earth. They arrived and found the planet inhabited by a people as intelligent, and lustful, as their own. Somehow, through a simple twist of fate, Trish had come to this new world just in time to prevent an invasion of her own.

In a way Lizard Stillwater's plan was no different from Human Stillwater: to colonize and subdue another planet. The one difference was the Earth people had no idea the lizards were here. Had aliens like Tex been in power, perhaps they could have lived together in peace.

Instead, Trish found herself smack in the middle of an ancient Krell prophecy. The dark lord was in command. The dark lord had his eyes set on the planet Earth, and Earth had only one hope of survival.

It was as if she could hear the beloved Saint Augustine speaking to her from across the centuries. If ever there was a "just war," this was it. The great saint no doubt would have agreed. Trish whispered the words, "Thank you," aloud to the old saint and to the elder nun who had insisted she bring his writings on the voyage.

Trish heard a noise in the distance. Ace jumped to his feet, his ears perked up. Tex could hear it too. "We've got to hide," said Tex.

"From what?" asked Trish.

"Patrol," said Ace. "Probably out looking for you two."

"Then you hide," said Trish, picking up Tex's gun and wiping the green blood off. There was ice in her tone, ice that Ace had not heard since the war. He knew what was coming.

"Get in the tomb," said Trish. "Take Tex with you."

The two of them lifted the wounded lizard/man into the tomb. As Ace climbed in after, he asked, "What are you going to do?"

Trish turned toward the sound of the approaching hovercraft. "I'm about to kick a little mule."
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

No one knew more about killing than Trish. In her years fighting human wars and the Martian War, she had become a true artist of life form execution. True, it had been some years since the artist had taken up her palette to work, but Trish felt no rust, no nerves. No doubt.

The only question was, how would she do it this time?

Easiest thing to do would be to lure them in and lull them into a sense of false security. She would play the victim in need of rescue lost in the woods with a wounded man. Tex was in the tomb with a broken leg. His injury had to be something devoid of blood shed, lest they catch on that she knows their secret. Once on the ground, guns holstered, she could let them get ahead of her and take them from behind.

Another way would require a little help from Ace, but would cut down on the number of guards she'd have to kill personally. Send them one at a time in to check on Tex, and have Tex take each one out as they get through the door. He could easily waste half the group before the others knew it was a trap.

Trish spotted the hovercraft weaving through the trees with six armed space marines - lizards in disguise, no doubt - en route.

She opted not to tell Ace to get ready.

She opted not to pretend anything.

Soon as the hovercraft landed, she was on the hood.

She kicked the driver in the face, snapping his head up and breaking his neck.

She cartwheeled over the head of the man sitting next to him, snapping his neck.

She landed in the lap of a third. With his laser gun in his right hand, he wrapped his arms around her to contain her, just the way she planned it. She gripped his gun hand and opened fire, slaughtering the three remaining space marine aliens, their green blood exploding all around her.

Once the three were dead, she punched the remaining soldier in the nose with a left. He let go of the laser gun. She shot him in the face.

It was over before the hovercraft was at a complete stop, inches from the door of the tomb.

Trish separated the weapons from their owners and tossed the bodies out of the hovercraft like rag dolls. Green blood was everywhere, but Trish ignored it, climbing into the driver's seat and backing the vehicle up.

Ace and Tex peeked out. Tex uttered something unintelligible to the others, an alien swear word. Ace laughed.

"That was nothing," said Ace. "She went easy on those guys."

Grim-faced, ready for more, Trish hopped out of the hovercraft and walked to the tomb. "How do I defeat him?" she asked Tex.

"You gotta be crazy," said Ace. "You're going to take them all on? The whole planet? Do you know how many are down there, still in lizard form?"

Tex looked up at Trish. "Kill Stillwater and it's over."

Ace and Trish gave Tex a confused look. "That's it?" they spoke in unison.

Tex nodded. "It's how he became ruler. It's how hundreds of others became our master before the rise of Zedrea. Kill Stillwater, you become the new ruler of Krell. The people will do as you say."

"Easy enough," said Trish.

"And don't let anyone kill you once you are ruler," said Ace.

"Be prepared for a fight," said Tex. "Until Stillwater is dead, his men will defend him to the death."

"Then let's hope I can get to Stillwater quickly," she said. "The sooner he's dead, the fewer people I have to kill."

Trish flipped herself back aboard the hovercraft. "Be back when I'm queen. Keep an eye on him, Ace. He's a friend now."

The hovercraft shot up out of the trees and out of sight.

Tex slumped against the wall. "You gonna kill me?"

Ace shook his head. "Not on your life."

Tex looked up. "Then you trust me?"

"No," said Tex. "But as much as I hate you, I'm scared to death of her.
CHAPTER NINETEEN

"I don't understand. You want me to bring food to you?"

If Jimmy Riggs was really confused, Stone was even more confused. He wanted to grab Jimmy, to shake him out of whatever stupor he had fallen into after a decade on Krell. He started again.

"Yes, Jimmy. I need you to go back to the base, get three lunches, and bring them here."

"Why wouldn't you just go back with me, the three of you?" asked Jimmy.

"Because we have work to do here," said Stone.

"Then work," said Jimmy.

"We will," said Stone. "But we are getting hungry. That is why I am asking you to go back and get three lunches to bring here."

"To eat... on the ship?" said Jimmy.

They were getting close. "Yes. To eat on the ship."

"In your work space."

Stone resisted the urge to yell. "Jimmy, if you can bring us lunch, you save us time that we can be using to work on the navigational data. Time is of the essence, right?"

"I see your point now," said Jimmy. "Rather than stop all work to travel back, eat, and return to the ship, you can cut out the travel time and use it as work time."

"Very good," said Stone.

"I shall go and get lunch for you all," said Jimmy. "And myself. I don't want you to have to wait any longer while I eat."

"Whatever you like," said Stone. "We'd love to have you join us."

Jimmy spun around and walked to the hover car. He put the vehicle in gear and spun about, headed for the pyramid.

Stone let out a long, slow breath. "Wow."

He turned and headed into the ship, straight to the command console. "How are we doing?"

"I can do this all day," said Michael. His touch screen showed a diagnostic test running on one of the ship's main engines - a function completely irrelevant to the task at hand.

"Same here," said Laura, who, now that Jimmy was gone, was playing one of the ancient, 8-bit video games she had secretly uploaded before the flight. "Is lunch coming?"

"I think so," said Stone. "Has anyone else noticed that Jimmy is... not at all Jimmy?"

They both nodded. "Any ideas yet?"

"No," said Stone. "But now that he's gone, I'm going to have a peek at our sister ship. There's something there they don't want us to see, and until I know what it is, we don't give them a thing. Understood?"

"Be careful," said Laura.

"Good luck, chief," said Michael.

Stone slipped back through the ship and down the ramp. He scanned the landing area, looking for any sign of security that might be watching him from afar. There were no sentries around the ship, and there was no sign of any vehicle. If they were out there, they were well hidden, a thought that made Stone all the more nervous.

He walked toward the Dominator at a regular pace, careful not too walk too fast or slow, so his movements would not be suspicious.

It was an impressive ship up close, made from the same shiny white metal as the Olympia with with more graceful lines and much bigger rockets. The ramp was on the other side of the ship from the Olympia, and Stone took a wide path around to reach it. Just before the ramp, he spotted a small vehicle. Some tools and other maintenance equipment were sitting in the back, and a helmet with a visor was in front. Thankful for a bit of a disguise, Stone grabbed the helmet and put it on as he approached the ramp.

The opening at the top of the ramp looked perfectly ordinary. The Space Force logo greeted him as he reached the top, and he had his choice to go left or right. He turned left, then made a hard right into one of the storage bays.

Stone felt a chill race down his spine. The entire storage bag was filled with some sort of alien cargo. A white, goo-like webbing stretches all throughout the cargo bay in every direction. Within the webbing, packed tightly from one end of the bay to the other, were large, oblong brown objects about eighteen inches in diameter. At first, they looked like jumbo footballs, but it only took a few seconds for Brockman to realize what he was looking at. They were eggs, giant, jelly-like eggs bearing some sort of alien larvae. Stone could see creatures swimming inside some of the translucent eggs, like giant tadpoles.

He backed away slowly, stepping back into the main entry area. Just out of curiosity he went to the right this time into what should have been the secondary crew's sleeping quarters.

More eggs. Thousands more, all floating and bobbing in the sticky white web.

What does this mean? he thought to himself as he snuck back out of the sleep chamber. What was Stillwater thinking, loading his ship with these bizarre, alien eggs? What were these creatures? And why was this ship bursting at the seams with them?

Stone left the helmet where he found it and returned to his ship. He wished he hadn't let Trish run off; times like this, it was she he trusted above all others. She wouldn't know what to do necessarily, but when it came time to do it...

But that was the old Trish. That Trish once slaughtered thirty guerrilla terrorists by hand while he lay near death with a nasty chest wound. That Trish single-handedly saved the world from a fuzzy Martian menace that one of his crew brought back to Earth. The new Trish was a woman of faith, of peace. She had taken a vow against violence. If it came to a fight here on Krell, what would she do?

Stone boarded the ramp of the Olympia. As he reached the top of the ramp a hand reached out and grabbed his jumpsuit, slinging him around the corner and slamming him to the floor.

He felt someone straddling him, sitting on top, as his head stopped spinning and his eyes tried to refocus. A blur leaned toward him, and he felt her hair brush his face as hers came into focus.

"I'm sorry about last night," said Becky Bender. "Can you ever forgive me?"

CHAPTER TWENTY

He had never really liked his alien name. It was crude, and it was low class for an important figure on the planet Krell. As he adjusted the uniform over his human skin, the skin he had carefully cut and molded to his body in the likeness of the late General Daniel Stillwater, the alien commander smiled to his reflection.

When they reached Earth, he would remain in this form. He and some of his brain trust would keep the human form. He liked the look. He loved the clothes. And looking human would make it easier to subdue and enslave the Earth people, whom he knew would be more likely to follow orders from their own than an alien being.

It was fate that afforded him the opportunity to be the conqueror of not one, but two worlds. Born a humble birth to a Krell school teacher and school administrator, Stillwater was expected to do what children had done for generations on Krell: follow in his parents' footsteps and, in his case, go into education.

There was only one way to escape his fate: by taking advantage of a long held tradition on Krell. Krell was a being eats being world. Killing had long been accepted as the means to advancement, beginning with the great Emperor Throg, whose now headless statue stood beneath the pyramid he called home. In spite of this somewhat barbaric tradition, the people of Krell had, over time, become a largely peaceful people. Centuries of killing and eating to get ahead had quelled the blood lust in a people who grew weary of seeing friends and loved ones senselessly eaten over and over and over. No one could ever form long term attachments because you never knew who would be dead the next day or who was out to kill you.

It was under the rule of the great seer Zedrea that the being eats being way of life gave way to a live and let live way of life. But after centuries of relatively little bloodshed, enough people still held to the old kill-to-advance belief to offer a disgruntled teacher's son his chance for glory.

It was in school year ten that Stillwater, a rebellious, trouble making alien teenager, learned of Krell's ancient history of violence. Rather than accept the peaceful path established by Zedrea, Stillwater saw his people's ancient tradition of bloodshed as a quick and easy way to rise above his station in life. The following day, during a lesson on mathematics, Stillwater killed and ate his teacher - his own mother - thus becoming at a young age both a school teacher and his own mother. That afternoon he rose even higher, killing his father to become not only both his parents, but the superintendent of schools. The people of his clan were shocked, but the custom of non-violence long established held. Thus, within a week, he rose to the rank of chieftain of his clan.

It was only then that the chieftains assembled at the great pyramid of Throg to discuss what could be done to bring the young, teenage chieftain in line with ancient traditions. The chieftains were united and unanimous in their desire to hold the peace, as they explained to the teenage upstart. He listened politely to each chieftain speak, taking in their words of wisdom and advice. When it came his turn to respond, he produced a large, pointy rock from his cloak, and bashed all their brains in.

Stillwater was ruler of Krell.

Soon he would conquer another world, a paradise from the sound of it, full of cool technology and amazing weaponry. He knew he would have some work to do once he got there. He would definitely have to kill and eat a few people, including the presidents of the USA, Russia, and China. He also planned to eat the secretary general of the United Nations, the chief of Space Force, and Guy Kellogg, the current king of late night and host of the number one rated Holo-vision show in the world. If you wanted to make it on Earth, he'd been told, you had to go on Guy Kellogg's show. What better way to declare yourself ruler than to go on the planet's number one show and kill the host on the air.

His one concern had been convincing Stone Brockman to go along with his plans. He knew from eating General Stillwater's brain and absorbing his knowledge that Stone was a clever man who had often out-witted Stillwater, making the senior officer incredibly jealous. The alien Stillwater considered killing Stone and his crew right away, stealing their identities and knowledge and having his own people do the hard work of charting a course for Earth. But Stillwater knew there were dissenters in his ranks, and while he felt secure in his position at the top, he didn't want to leave room for someone to derail his plans. Besides, play acting as General Stillwater with Stone Brockman proved to be good practice for his conquest of Earth.

The humans had proven more than willing to follow orders - those he had let live, anyway. He had already assimilated all but the core of Stone's crew, and in a matter of hours, he would no longer need the rest.

Down in a secret holding area, three transports loaded down with Krell eggs waited to carry the cargo for the Olympia. The Dominator was already packed with thousands of eggs, larvae he would train and guide and shape in his own image on the voyage to Earth, insuring that they would be both loyal and violent like him. He needed an army to help him succeed in his quest, and by the time they reached Earth, he would have one.

And what if the Earth people sent another ship while he was gone? Let them. What did he care? He was never coming back to Krell, and the people he left behind could fend for themselves. Krell belonged to the ancients, to rulers like Throg and Zedrea. Earth would be Stillwater's world, his conquest, his legacy.

The door to Stillwater's quarters opened, and the alien body snatcher known as Jimmy Riggs entered.

"I thought I told you to wait on the Olympia," said Stillwater.

"Commander Brockman asked me to come and fetch lunch for his crew," said Jimmy.

Stillwater frowned. "Have they done what we asked?"

"Not as of when I left," said Jimmy. "I got the impression they were stalling, but I'm not sure why."

"Stone's up to something," said the general.

Jimmy swallowed hard, remembering the consequences for failure of duty. "Are they onto us?"

The general shook his head. "We've been too careful. But we're too close to let them ruin things. Take them lunch. Keep a close eye. At the first sign something's wrong, kill them. Have their replacements on standby."

"They are, sir," said Jimmy.

Stone had had a stressful couple of days. He hadn't had much opportunity to relax, and it had been a long, long time. So while it wasn't the best timing to have his semi-secret lover to jump him aboard his ship, he wasn't really in the mood to fight it. Still, he was a soldier, and he had work to do, so he fought his passions back and said, "Becky, this isn't the best time."

Becky paused from kissing his neck and rose up to look him eye to eye. "But I feel so bad about last night. You needed me, and I wasn't there."

"It's okay," said Stone, remembering her robot-like responses the night before. "You had a long day."

"So did you," he said.

"Maybe tonight, we can spend some time together," he offered.

"I can't wait for tonight," she purred. She started kissing him again, her hands clasping his, keeping him pinned down with strength that surprised Stone.

Becky sat up again.

She smiled wickedly. "I wonder what your friend Trish would say if she caught us."

With those final words, Becky Bender's head and upper torso exploded in a blast of green blood and guts.

The blood and guts went everywhere, all over the walls, the ceiling, the floor, and Stone Brockman. He wiped green blood from his eyes and looked over what used to be Becky's stomach to see Trish in her sleeveless, green-blood-stained jumpsuit holding one mean looking blaster rifle.

"Trish?"

"Sorry about that, Commander," she said. Trish reached down and pushed the rest of Becky's alien corpse off Stone. She took his hand and jabbed his finger with a knife, drawing a yelp from his lips and red blood from his flesh.

"It's me, Trish," said Stone. "Flesh and red blood."

Trish nodded. "Commander, we don't have a lot of time, so I'll give you the short version."

"She was an alien," said Stone. "Disguised as Becky."

Trish nodded. "They all are. The whole Dominator crew. And if we don't do something, that ship over there is going to take an invasion army back to Earth.

The eggs! Alien invaders headed to Earth! Stone shook his head. How could the same rotten luck happen to the same space commander, twice!

At least he had his best weapon back.

"How do we stop them?" he said.

"I kill Stillwater, she said. "I kill him, and it's all over."

"Just like that?" said Stone.

It's the way of things on Krell," said Trish. "Whomever you kill, you assume their position. If I kill Stillwater..."

"You will be the ruler of Krell!" said Stone.

"Exactly," she said, feeling the full weight of that prospect for the first time.

"It won't be easy," said Stone. "Especially if he knows you're coming."

Trish nodded. "Your marines have all been turned. Good thing we brought them, or else I'd have twenty fewer men to fight through."

"I'm sorry," said Stone. "I never should have lied to you.

"Commander, if you hadn't lied to me, you'd be dead, and Earth would be doomed."

Stone nodded, conceding the point. His eyes fell to the floor, looking down at the green torso oozing blood on the ship floor.

"She's dead, isn't she?" he said.

"I'm guessing our entire science team is," said Trish.

"Let's hope Laura and Michael are okay," said Stone.

He looked up. "How did you know she was one of them?"

"I didn't." Trish gave him a wry smile. He couldn't tell if she was lying. Probably for the best he would never know for sure.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

"I knew it!"

Laura nodded, a smile on her face, satisfied to know she wasn't going crazy. After passing the finger-prick test, it was Laura and Michael's turn to learn the truth about Stillwater's creepy crew. Laura took it surprisingly well. An avid fan of classic science fiction films from the mid twentieth century, Laura had already noticed the tell-tale signs of body snatchers and was somewhat relieved by the news because she knew it wasn't her being paranoid.

"It makes so much sense!" she said. "That's why Jimmy's been so weird."

"That's why everyone's so weird," said Stone.

Laura shook her head sadly. "Carlotta Vandenburg was my best friend in Space Force training. She hasn't said two words to me since we arrived here. Now I know why. She's a pod person."

Michael, on the other hand, did not take it so well. Visions of the Martian creatures devouring his frat house buddies flooded back into his mind. He turned his head and vomited.

Once he composed himself and the mess was cleaned up, Stone put a plan into action. If all it took to dethrone General Stillwater, all they had to do was get close enough to the general to pull the trigger. Given that the aliens had no idea the humans knew what was happening, getting close should not be a problem. Stone would take Trish back to base. They would find Stillwater, and one or the other of them would take his head off. As soon as Stillwater was dead and a new order established, Stone and Trish would see that the Dominator was taken off-line and get the people of Krell to off-load the eggs. Having saved the Earth again, the surviving humans, however many there were, would return to Earth in Olympia, possibly taking some of the Krell back as ambassadors in the interest of establishing intergalactic relations in a peaceful, diplomatic way.

Stone found a spare jumpsuit in the crew compartments and changed on the ship, washing all the green alien blood off his body first. Trish declined to change, deciding that the tale of the whiptail cat would be explanation enough for her own bloody appearance. Tex would be killed off in her cover story, devoured whole by the cat before Trish could do a thing to save him. She hated to do that to Tex, even as part of a lie, but it was the simplest and easiest story to sell. She'd see that his name was cleared, if and when she liberated Tex's true people.

All that careful spontaneous planning went out the door when Trish and Stone stepped onto the ramp just as Jimmy was walking up.

"Afternoon, Commander," said Jimmy, who was carrying three boxed lunches. "And Miss Angel, good to see you back. Did you and Tex find what you were looking for?"

"Not exactly," said Trish.

"Oh, I am sorry," said Jimmy. "And I am sorry I didn't bring an extra lunch. Do you want these in the reserve crew cabin or the command module?"

"I'll take them from here, Jimmy," said Stone, taking hold of the boxes.

Jimmy's grip tightened. "That's quite all right, Commander."

Jimmy stepped into the ship and turned toward the crew cabin, where alien Becky Bender's guts were still spread out for all to see.

Before Trish could snap his neck, the wily alien shoved the three lunch boxes straight in her face, knocking her to the ground, and raced down the ramp.

Stone was right on Jimmy's heels, and as Jimmy reached the closed top troop carrier, he slammed into the alien, pinning him to the vehicle.

"You're going to pay for what you did to Jimmy," Stone growled.

"Jimmy was a pathetic excuse for a soldier," spat the alien. "You should have heard how he begged and pleaded with me to spare his life before I gutted him!"

Stone slammed his fist into the alien's side. The creature spat green blood out of his mouth.

"Say hello to the new you," said Jimmy, as he pressed the release button on the vehicle door.

The door practically exploded outward as four terrifying lizard men burst from the vehicle. The first one out slashed Stone across the chest with razor sharp claws. Stone staggered back and fell, and the green-scaled lizard men with their glowing orange eyes pounced, beating him senseless.

"Oh boys," said Trish, strolling coolly down the ramp. The lizards paused, looking up at the woman. "You just made a big, bad mistake."

Trish squeezed the trigger on her blaster rifle, blowing the top half of the lizard man on the right to smithereens and taking the arm off the one in the middle. The middle creature howled with fury, grabbing his open, bleeding arm socket, as the third lizard man charged Trish wildly.

She easily could have blown the lizard man away in his blind fury, but she wanted to see what these creatures were made of. The creature attacked her like an early 20th century boxer, letting a haymaker punch arc toward her head from his right. Trish dropped the gun, caught his right fist with hers, twisted the arm a half turn, and broke it by dropping her left elbow on his.

Simplistic fighting style, hollow bones, she notes.

A left fist swung at her much like the right. Trish let it connect, again, just to see. It hurt, and it spun her about, but as she made a 360 degree spin, she crouched and took the creature down by swinging her left leg out toward his.

The lizard man crashed hard on his left side, and Trish could hear a hip bone snap on impact. She kicked the creature hard in the jaw, snapping his head hard to the left and nearly breaking his neck. She flipped the rifle in the air with her foot and brought the butt down in its right eye. It wasn't instant death, but it only took a few seconds for the orange glow to vanish.

By this time the one armed lizard man was on her, his good arm cocked to throw a roundhouse punch of his own. Trish aimed the rifle casually and blew his left arm off. She shot his left leg off at the hip, and before he could hit the ground, the right had been blown clean off too.

Trish heard the transport roar to life. "Jimmy!" she screamed as it started to move. She took careful aim at the fuel cells and blasted away. The back of the vehicle went up in a huge fireball, and the front half broke off, tumbling and rolling over completely a half dozen times before stopping.

Trish raced to the remains of the vehicle cabin. Alien Jimmy crawled from the wreckage just as Trish arrived to cut off his exit.

Jimmy looked up with the sweet, innocent smile she first knew more than a century ago on Earth.

"Trish, it's me," he said. "It's your old pal Jimmy. You wouldn't kill me, would you?"

Trish looked into the sweet eyes of the man who used to live inside the body. "No," she said. "Not with that face."

Jimmy grinned, but his glee was short lived. Trish dug her nails into the human skin just below the hairline and pulled, yanking Jimmy's face away so she could look into the eyes of the alien.

She put the end of her gun right between his eyes and pulled the trigger, blasting the alien face into oblivion.

Trish heard a crackling sound inside the cabin coming from the center console. She crawled inside and saw the video screen flicker to life. An angry, scowling face glared at Trish on the small screen.

It was General Stillwater.

"You're dead, Trish Angel," he said, sounding very much like a classic comic book villain. "Enjoy this victory, because it will be your last. You and your precious humankind are all dead."

"I'll see you soon, General," she replied, smashing the video screen with her elbow.
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

The pyramid was on high alert. The call went out to the lower depths for soldiers to race to their supreme leader's defense, and lizard men of all sizes poured into the upper levels of the pyramid. Many of those already above ground stood ready and waiting with their human-made weapons in hand for the brutal assault that was coming. Some even shook off their human skin, standing ready to attack in their native form.

Major Block was still in human form, but had removed the human eyes from his disguise, creating a terrifying visage with his glowing orange eyes.

"How do you think he will test us?" said the general.

"Brockman won't come at us with guns blazing," said Block. "He's too smart for that. He will look for a weak point, and when he finds it, he will use her."

Stillwater shuddered. He didn't know why, but as he tapped into the memories of the general, an overwhelming sense of dread came to mind when he thought of Trish Angel.

"Brockman doesn't concern me half as much as the woman," continued Block. "There's something about her. Something very dangerous. "

"I sense that too," said Stillwater. "It doesn't make sense. There are millions of us here, willing to fight to the death to defend it. So why should we feel terror in regards to one female?"

"I do not know, and I do not understand it," said Major Block. "But I fear her too."

Stillwater looked around the base. They could create an impenetrable wall of laser gun fire with all the positions they had taken up. But the experience and wisdom of the real General Stillwater led him to make a decision that would ensure his legacy would endure.

"Are Wallace and Simpkins aboard the Dominator?"

"As you requested," said the Major.

"Good," said Stillwater. "Tell them I want that ship in orbit in thirty minutes."

"Sir, is that a good idea?" asked Major Block. "If we send Dominator ahead, how will we get to Earth?"

"We will follow them on the Olympia," said Stillwater. "We'll arrive late, but you know what? I'm enjoying this grand entrance thing that the general did so well."

"You have adapted his style very well, sir," said the Major.

"Ready our troops," said Stillwater. "I do not want to be caught unawares."

The Major raced off to fulfill his orders. General Stillwater watched as the blast door to the hangar came down.

Come, Commander Brockman. And bring your female. You better hope the she is all that the real Stillwater feared.

Stone was alive and awake, but in no condition for combat. The beating by the lizard men had taken him out of the coming fight, but he was still very much in command as Trish and Michael bandaged to him up in the Olympia's command module.

"We can't risk it," he said, objecting to Trish's insistence on carrying on alone. "Stillwater knows we are coming for him. We no longer have the element of surprise."

"You have me," said Trish.

Stone shook his head. "We've lost enough people on this rock. We destroy the Dominator, we blast off, and we head for Earth."

"What about Cutter?" said Trish. "Are you going to leave him here? And what about Tex?"

"He's an alien," said Laura.

"He could help us to establish a peace if we could only take out Stillwater," said Trish.

"This is not our fight," said Stone. "We have an obligation as members of Space Force to protect the Earth and its people."

"What better way than to make these people our allies!" Trish replied.

"Trish, no one respects your warrior spirit more than I," said Stone. "But you'll never get close to Stillwater alone. It's suicide."

A noise elsewhere in the ship put the four crew members on edge. They breathed a collective sigh of relief when a hand holding a dirty white towel reached through the door.

"I come in peace, fellow earthlings," said Cutter as he stepped into the room.

"How did you get here so fast?" Trish asked.

"Oh, heh, I had a hover bike stashed nearby," said Cutter. "Tex and I got to talking, and we decided that we'd rather not wait it out in the woods with the whiptails."

"Tex?" said Stone, confused and alarmed.

Tex leaned into the room, half a smile on his weak face, green blood dried all over his chest.

"He's okay," said Trish. "He's on our side."

"He's an alien," said Laura, confused.

"I told you, they're not all on Stillwater's side," said Trish. "If we cut the head off the viper, it's over."

"The trick is getting to the head," said Stone.

"That's my problem," said Trish, still not taking no for an answer. "Ace, you still know how to fly this thing?"

"Like riding a bike," said Ace, "With million pounds of rocket power strapped to your butt."

"You and Michael get this thing ready to fly," said Trish. "If I don't come back, get this bucket off the ground, drop some heavy artillery on the Dominator and get home fast."

"You're going back to the pyramid?" said Tex. "We should get out now, while we have the chance."

"Exactly what I've been saying," said Stone.

Trish shot him a look of fury. "Commander, these people did not invite us here, but we have a chance to leave them in a better state than we found them. I'm going to the pyramid. I'm going to kill Stillwater. And you know darn well you can't stop me."

Stone nodded. "All too well."

Trish checked her blaster's power unit. She loaded every pocket on what was left of her jumpsuit with more guns. She walked out of the command module and headed for the ramp.

"She's gonna get herself killed," Tex muttered to Ace.

"Yeah," said Ace, "But she's gonna cause a lot of carnage before she does."

Stone gave orders for his crew to get to work. He limped after Trish and caught her at the base of the ramp.

"How long?" he said.

"You don't hear from me in 45 minutes, get out of here," she said.

Trish climbed into her hovercraft and fired it up, launching the vehicle in the direction of the pyramid. Stone hobbled back into the command module.

"Tex, grab a seat," said Stone. "Try anything funny aboard my ship, and we will kill you. Got it?"

"Understood," said the alien defector.

"Ace, the ship is yours," said Stone. "I want all systems online in thirty minutes. You still remember how to fly her?"

"Like my first fighter jet," said Ace, swinging up to the pilot's seat.

Just then, the ship began to shake. The entire frame of the Olympia vibrated, putting everyone on edge.

"What's happening?" said Tex.

"I didn't touch a thing," said Ace.

"It's not us," said Laura. "It's the Dominator."

Stone looked at the starboard video monitor. Fire billowed from the Dominator's main engines. Stone cursed. Stillwater had given the order to move his babies to safety. Or was he launching a pre-emptive invasion of Earth? Stone couldn't take the chance and let them go.

"Ace, get this ship online in three minutes," said Stone. Stone directed Tex to an open computer console. "Tex, get in that computer and find our weapons systems. Laura?"

"I've got them," she said. "Patching them over to his station now."

"Thank you," said Stone. "Buckle up, everyone. We're going hunting."
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

Trish recited the Our Father prayer over and over as she sped across the surface of Krell. She was prepared to die, and completely at peace. She had every confidence she would win if the battle was hand-to-hand, but if Stillwater was smart, he'd incinerate her in a hail of laser fire the moment she was in sight.

Trish knew she had one chance. If Alien Stillwater's ego was as big as the real one, he'd want Trish to see him before she dies. He would allow her to penetrate his fortress just far enough to look her in the eye. Trish just hoped she'd be quick enough on the draw to take him out before she expired.

All those years in the convent, the one regret she had about leaving her former life was knowing she would never die a Spartan death. He who lives by the sword, dies by the sword, and Trish had lived by the sword a long time. It wasn't right for an instrument of death to die of old age in a convent. Mother Superior chalked it up to grace, but deep in her heart, Trish knew that this was the way it was meant to be.

Grace could wait for the afterlife. Trish would have one final dance with Death.

As she started her prayer for the twenty-first time, she spotted a solitary figure ahead, a large, bi-pedal creature, waving what looked like two arms around. She slowed her craft a bit and pulled out a hand-held gun, ready to drop the wretched beast, but as she moved closer, she realized it wasn't a beast in the conventional sense.

She slowed the ship all the way down and stopped alongside a human man and a large cage.

"Thank goodness you stopped," said Dr. Rex Tucker. "I can't carry these birds a step further."

"Afternoon, Dr. Tucker," said Trish.

"Afternoon," he said. "Sorry if I gave anyone a scare being gone so long, but this place is unreal!" he said.

"What are you doing out here?" asked Trish, hopping out of the vehicle.

"I've been tracking and collecting my doves," he said, hoisting the cage into the vehicle. "And taking in the most amazing scientific exploration of my life! Do you know the creatures here bleed green?"

"I do," she said. Quick as a thought, she pricked Dr. Tucker on the hand.

"Yeeeee-oww!" he screamed. "What are you trying to do?"

Trish grabbed his hand; his blood was red.

"You're a lucky man, doctor," she said. "In the time you've been gone, your entire team was killed and replaced with alien lizard men wearing their skin."

Dr. Tucker raised a suspicious eyebrow. "Is this more new astronaut hazing practical jokes? Because I still haven't grown that hair on my belly back."

"Not at all," said Trish. "The General Stillwater who welcomed us here is an alien ruler with plans to invade Earth. I'm on my way to kill him now."

"I see," said Dr. Tucker, still not believing.

"I know it's hard to accept," said Trish.

"It's ridiculous!" said Dr. Tucker. "Aliens, wearing our skins? How do they keep the skin from rotting away? How do they get into them and fit them so perfectly? Where are the seams? It's preposterous!"

"And if you stay here, you're going to die at the hands of something preposterous," said Trish. "Take my car, head that direction, and get on board the Olympia as fast as you can."

Dr. Tucker shook his head. "I can't drive this thing!"

"You can't come with me," said Trish.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"Back to the pyramid," she said. "To kill Stillwater."

"Oh," said Dr. Tucker. "You're just going to walk in the front door and kill him?"

"Well, it's a little more complicated than that," she said. "They know I'm coming, so they'll probably have a lot of guns."

"So you're committing suicide," said Dr. Tucker.

"Get to the ship," said Trish. "They leave in thirty."

She started walking toward the pyramid, praying Dr. Tucker would stop arguing and do what he said for once in his miserable life."

"You know," he called out to her, "If you want to take a shot at this guy, you should take the back way in."

She stopped. She turned. "There's a back door?"

"How do you think I got out here?" he said. "I didn't want to hear those pinheads try and tell me about this planet. I came to see for myself."

"Good," said Trish. "Tell me where it is."

He grinned. "Take me, and I'll show you."

"You're not a soldier."

"No, I'm a scientist," he said. "And I've got important stuff up in my room that I can't leave without."

"You could die," she said. "You want to lose your life for science?"

"You're dead without me," he said.

Trish sighed. Perhaps this was the break she needed to fulfill her mission. "Stay close," said Trish. "Stay low, and keep those birds quiet."

"Of course," said the fat man. "You're the boss."

Dr. Tucker fell in behind Trish, who reached into her pocket and felt for her rosary. With her eyes open, focused on her goal, Trish began to pray once more.

"Father, forgive me. For I am about to sin. A lot."
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

"That's impossible," said Stillwater, the joy and elation of his moment of triumph falling away quickly as he looked at the video monitor. "How could this happen?"

"There was no one there to stop them," said the man sitting at the monitor. "All available personnel at the landing zone went aboard the Dominator."

Stillwater slugged the man, who fell hard against the stone floor. He seethed with hatred for the human he had let live for far too long. Stone Brockman was after his children, and thanks to Stillwater, now he had a gun. But Stillwater still had the faster ship, and his ship had the bigger guns.

He walked over to the communication specialist. "Bring him online! I want to talk to Brockman!"

It took a few minutes, but soon Stillwater was face to face with the bruised visage of Stone Brockman.

"General Stillwater, you've been a naughty boy," said Stone.

"What are you doing, Brockman?" the alien leader spat. "You can't run down my ship."

"My guns can," said Stone. "Thanks for those, by the way. It will make saving my planet much easier."

"I have the bigger guns," said Stillwater. "And my men are already on full alert. We'll smash you like we smashed all you other puny human ships!"

"You let your boys on the Dominator worry about me," said Stone. "You have a much bigger problem."

"Really?"

"Trish Angel is on her way to see you," said Stone. "And she's determined to conquer your people."

"And how does she plan to do that?" said Stillwater.

"She's going to kill you."

With those chilling words, Stone killed the signal.

"Dominator's weapons systems are online," said Laura, monitoring their sister ship.

"Tex?" Stone turned to the lizard man sitting in the gunner's chair. "I know this won't be easy for you."

Tex nodded. It was harder than he had imagined, especially given all he had learned about sin and death from Trish Angel. Yet Tex understood as Trish did, some times doing the right thing meant doing a little killing.

"When you give the order, I will do my duty," said Tex. "For peace."

Stone smiled at the irony at that statement. "Let's hope Trish gets her part done as well, or we could be in for a long fight."

The back way into the pyramid proved to be harder on the way back in, at least for Dr. Tucker. Trish squeezed through the opening into what appeared to be a storage room with no trouble, and the cage of birds Tucker had stolen slipped in easy as well. It was Dr. Tucker's fat rear that proved to be the problem, due to the angle of the stone partially covering the secret entrance.

Trish pulled on the fat scientist's arms as his legs struggled on the other side to push him through.

"Why don't you just stay?" said Trish. "When I kill Stillwater, I'll let you in the front door."

"What if you die?" said Tucker. "No dice, soldier, I gotta get my notes!"

Reluctantly, Trish took hold of Tucker's arms and prepared herself to give it one more try. She never saw the blow coming, as one of the aliens in marine skin dropped the butt of his blaster into the back of her head, dropping her like a rock.

"Trish?" said Tucker, alarmed to see not one but two alien marines with guns behind his wounded comrade.

"Guess this is our lucky day, huh?" said the bigger marine. He grabbed Trish by the collar and hoisted her to her feet.

"Stupid female," said the alien. "Do you really think we wouldn't have all entrances and exits covered? This is our home! And now, you're going to die."

Tucker raised his hand. "Does that go for me too?" he asked.

The alien shoved Trish into a stack of boxes and set down his rifle. "What do you say, Mouse? Shall we beat her to death with these puny, pink hands?"

Trish's head was reeling from the alien's first blow. She kicked herself mentally for not properly scoping their entry point. There could have been dozens of men waiting in ambush for them, but as she came to her senses, Trish saw the odds were not as bad as they could be.

Trish recognized the smaller marine as the former Alan "Mouse" Laraby, a member of her platoon from days past. The Mouse she knew was dead, but Trish saw the same look of fear and respect in the alien's eyes that she used to see in the real Mouse.

"You do what you want, Striker," said Mouse. "I don't want any piece of this."

"Are you a coward?" bellowed Striker.

"No! I am not a coward!" said Mouse. "But the guy whose memories I ate seems to have had good reason to be afraid of this one."

"Yeah?" said Striker. "The guy I ate always wanted a piece of her."

Striker swung with a powerful right that connected with Trish's face, cutting her cheek and drawing first blood. She caught herself from falling and pulled herself back to her feet, refusing to go all the way down.

Mouse stepped back. "This is a bad idea, Striker. Bad, bad idea!"

"She can't take two of us!" said Striker.

"Oh yes she can!" said Mouse.

Striker kicked Trish hard, sending her reeling back into Dr. Tucker, who grunted like an angry bear.

"Come on!" the husky scientist screamed. "Don't drag me into this fight!"

Trish pushed off the wall and threw a kick of her own at Striker. The alien side-stepped her and brought his elbow down hard on her knee. She dropped to the ground with a yelp, grabbing at her leg.

"You see Mouse?" said Striker. "I'm winning!"

"No, no," said Mouse. "She's toying with you. Sizing you up. I saw her do this with those fluffy aliens on Earth."

"You saw nothing!" said Striker.

"Okay, but the guy I'm wearing did!" said Mouse. "She's feeling you out, looking for your weak spots."

Striker drove his foot into the side of Trish's damaged knee, stalking her in a circle. "See any weakness, female?" taunted the alien warrior. "Come at me! Show me what this wimp is so afraid of."

Trish pulled herself to her feet, turning to face Striker with a deadly look in her eye. She brushed her cheek and looked at the blood smeared on her fingers.

"Been a long time since an alien drew blood on me," she said. "Last time that happened, I had to kill them all."

Striker laughed. "I'd like to see you try!"

Mouse turned pale, looking like he was ready vomit. "See ya, Striker."

Striker swung at Trish with the same hook - a mistake, as she was ready for it. She ducked and grabbed his arm, pulling him off balance and over her shoulder, flipping him head over heels into the wall.

Striker struggled to pull himself up to his feet. Trish grabbed him from behind and smashed his face into the wall, over and over. She bent the alien back over her knee, caught his head in the crook of her elbow, and smiled down on her victim.

"Should have listened to Mouse," she said.

Trish snapped his neck with a hard chop to the spine, dropping him to the ground.

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

Alan Carlos III was twenty years older than his grandfather had been when he sent General Daniel Stillwater into outer space. Much to the chagrin of the alien inhabiting Stillwater's body, he was not nearly as greedy or reckless as his ancestor.

"General, if I do this, I'm putting my family fortune at serious risk," said the billionaire.

"What risk could that be?" said Stillwater. "It is I and my crew who are risking our lives to bring you the return your grandfather desired."

"There are rumors, General," said Alan Carlos III. "People say you are not who you say you are. That aliens have overcome our people. The Space Force has sent multiple ships to destroy you and keep you from coming here."

"Mr. Carlos, I am the same man that I was when Senator Carlos commissioned me to lead this expedition," said Stillwater. "You will see. The whole world will see. I just need a safe point of re-entry into our solar system so I can prove to the world the rumors are just a hoax."

Carlos III nodded. "Very well. You may proceed to the Galaxicon Station just off Neptune. I'll alert my staff to expect you and allow you to dock.

Stillwater grinned. "You're going to be very rich, Mr. Carlos," he said. "We all are."

"We will see," said the skeptical oil tycoon.

The screen went dark. Stillwater turned to his man. "Send coordinates to the ship and tell them to get moving." said Stillwater. "Also, let them know no one kills this Carlos guy but me. I want to personally squish his head like a grape!"

Trish pulled hard once more, and Dr. Tucker gave a yelp as he flopped inside the building, landing hard on his left arm. He howled in pain and grasped the arm. Trish covered his mouth to silence his moans.

"This is all for nothing if the rest of them hear us!" she whispered.

She shot a look at Laraby, who put his hands up. "Hey, don't look at me! You wanna save the planet, go ahead!"

"My arm," Tucker grumbled. "It's out of socket."

Trish yanked a strip of material off her jumpsuit and shoved it in Tucker's mouth. She placed one hand on Tucker's shoulder and gripped his bicep.

"This will hurt."

CRUNCH!

Tucker's eyes watered and he growled into the cloth material. Trish shushed him and wiped the sweat from his brow as he caught his breath. He spat the fabric out.

"Thank you," he said. "I think."

She helped the fat man to his feet before turning to Mouse, who was still trembling with his gun in hand.

"So what do we do with you?" said Trish.

Mouse aimed the barrel of his laser gun at his leg and fired, collapsing to the ground with a yelp and grabbing at his wound.

"Help!" he screamed. "Trish Angel shot me in the leg. Now I can no longer defend my post and she might kill our leader!"

Trish smiled. "Playing both sides?"

Mouse grinned. "Please... I love my planet, but I don't wanna die today."

Trish nodded, granting Mouse a pardon for the moment and turned to Dr. Tucker. "We're moving."

"Copy that," said Dr. Tucker. He attempted to lift his bird cage, grunting as he did and grabbing at his bad shoulder.

"A little help, maybe?" he asked.

Trish ignored him, arming herself with a few extra weapons courtesy of Striker.

"Come on, my arm's in a lot of pain," whined.

"Leave the cage!" Trish demanded.

"No!" yelled Tucker.

"Then be quiet," she said, leading him into the hallway. Tucker continued to grunt and groan to her annoyance.

"Seriously, doctor, leave the cage here!" she said.

"I can't!" he said.

"Then keep it down," she said.

"It hurts!" he whined.

"After I kill Stillwater, you can cry your head off," she said, giving him a death look. "Until then, if you're coming with me, suck it up."

Tucker found the reserve strength to shut up. He kept close to her, struggling to keep the cage in hand between one good arm and one bad.

As soon as the laser bolts were flying, Ace Cutter did what he did best. The best fighter pilot of his generation had long wanted to see what a huge space ship could do. The Olympia dinked and dunked and dove as nimbly as a bumblebee, and Ace whooped and roared his approval.

"What a rush, huh, Mikey?" he shouted to his co-pilot.

"Just don't get us killed," Michael replied, gripping his arm rests right.

Stone held tight to his seat, keeping one eye on the front windshield and one on Tex."Tex, you get a bearing yet?" he shouted.

"We're too far out of range," said Tex. "At this speed, jumping around like we are, I can't possibly get a clean shot."

"You hear that, Ace?" Stone relayed.

"Heard and understood," said Ace. "If you're not strapped in, get there. This is gonna get ugly."

Stillwater watched the battle unfold on a datapad held by his new assistant. He hadn't taken the time to grieve Jimmy. He had no attachment to the man nor the lizard man killed that day by Trish Angel, so there was no reason to grieve the loss. The new assistant, lizard man in the guise of a soldier named Kyle, kept the datapad at shoulder height for his commander as he stood waiting with his gunmen in the hangar.

"Come on, come on!" Stillwater shouted at the screen. "How come they keep missing?"

"If I may," said Major Block. "The humans have greater knowledge of their own spacecraft."

Stillwater shot Block a glance. "We have the bigger guns!" he screamed.

"Even so, if there's a human with pilot's experience on board Olympia, they may make a difficult target."

"Then we need to get the Dominator out of there," said Stillwater. "Send word, I want the ship to set course for Earth, right away."

"Ace, cut it out!!"

Stone rubbed his temples, unable to bear the rebel yells of his new pilot any longer. Tex got quiet, and Stone took control. "They've stopped shooting. Michael, can you confirm? Have they stopped shooting?"

Michael was green from all the sick maneuvers his pilot had put him and the Olympia through, but he managed to get a look at the radar. "Confirmed. Dominator has stopped firing and is moving out of Krell orbit."

"Why would they do that?" said Tex.

"They're setting a course for Earth," said Stone. "Once they get into hyperspace, we'll never catch them. Ace?"

The pilot was already arcing the ship around. "We're going in," he said. "Tex, you get that pea shooter ready to bring the rain."

Tex gave Stone a puzzled look. "The rain, captain?"

"It means, get ready to shoot," said Stone.

The alien nodded, still a bit confused by human language.

Trish felt her nerves tighten as they reached the entrance to the hangar. She could see Stillwater's men standing side by side with more lizard men, all of them with their backs to her as they focused on the main door.

"We're here," she whispered to Dr. Tucker. Tucker glanced around her. "Holy--"

Trish slapped a hand across his mouth. He raised his good hand in response to her movement, a big mistake.

The crate of birds hit the floor and smashed.

Stillwater could hear the noise of rustling wings. Every man in the hangar looked round, trying to find the source of the new sound. Suddenly, it came clear. A rush of white doves streamed into the hangar, and in the middle of the doves, like an angel of vengeance, strode Trish Angel. She lifted a laser gun and blew away the first two soldiers she came to while every man and lizard man stood and watched in disbelief.

"Hello, General," said Trish. "Time to die."

It was the grandest entrance Stillwater had ever witnessed. As the angel of death shifted her aim for two very large fuel tanks in the heart of the hangar, Stillwater decided that he had never hated anyone so much in his life as he hated Trish Angel at that very moment.
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

As she raced along the second level overlooking the hangar, blasting lizard men to pieces, Trish found herself wondering how in the world she continued to cheat death. Despite her enormous faith in things beyond this world, she would never have had the audacity to consider herself a chosen one, destined to save two worlds. To kill was to sin, and the wages of sin was death, yet here she was again, sending dozens of aliens to their death while her bill went unpaid.

Below her on the main level, Stillwater pushed himself up from the ground, sliding the body of his dead assistant off him. He could hear the laser gun fire, so he knew she was still alive. He just didn't understand how. Had his men only opened fire when they had the chance, this would be over! But Trish got the drop on them, sending two laser bolts into the two main fuel tanks and blasting Stillwater and dozens of others off their feet.

He had no sooner recovered his footing that he crashed back to the ground, pinned down by the fallen body of another of his comrades. He shook the second dead man off him and crawled back toward the wall. They were losing. There was no question, his mighty band of warriors was losing to a female from another planet. The human memories of the man whose kin he inhabited brought back bloody, violent images from the past. He saw it clearly. This woman was a killing machine, having wholesale butchered hundreds of her own kind and alien kind. If he didn't do something, he would suffer the same fate in very short order.

Trish, meanwhile, had lucked into some heavier artillery, taking a bandolier full of grenades off a lizard man wearing the skin of a space marine. Why the space marines had brought grenades to Krell was beyond her, but Trish put them to good use, spreading them around the hangar strategically and blasting alien and machine to kingdom come.

She let the smoke clear. The lizard men were in full retreat, scrambling for the tunnels that led below. Good, she thought, fewer creatures she would have to kill.

Now was her chance. She glanced over the railing, searching for her primary target.

There.

He was crawling along the wall, headed for the underground tunnels himself. She lifted her blaster rifle and took aim.

Next thing she knew, she was dangling in the air, held aloft by her right arm, staring into the glowing orange eyes inside the eye sockets that once belonged to Major Block.

Block hit her, sending her crashing over the railing and on top of the burning wreckage of a hovercar. She landed hard on her back, a painful drop that drew a yowl of agony from her lips.

Block leapt after her, landing on the wreckage beside her. He reached a powerful hand down and lifted her up by the fabric on the front of her tattered jumpsuit.

"You will pay for the lives you have taken," he vowed.

She looked at him with a stoic expression that gave him a chill.

"I know I will," she said. "But I won't be the only one to give an account for my bloodshed."

"I can't catch them going this speed!"

Ace missed the solid grip of his old fighter craft flight stick now more than ever. It was no fun pushing buttons on a touch screen when in high pursuit of an enemy. He needed the feel of that stick in his hands to make him feel like he was doing something, going somewhere. Instead, he continued to mash his fingers against the unbending screen and curse his ship's lack of velocity.

"There's got to be a way to give me more power!" he shouted.

"You've got everything we've got," said Laura. "There's no more to give!"

"That's not possible!" Ace screamed. "I trained on this bird! I know she can catch Dominator! Are you sure all systems are online?"

"Yes!" she screamed, answering the question for the third time. "We're running at max capacity. Any more and she'll--"

"Thank you, Laura," said Stone, unwilling to let an old sci-fi movie cliche slip from her lips on his bridge. "Ace, you've gotta make it work."

Ace let our a visceral growl as he mashed his fingers on the datapad. It wasn't right. There was something they weren't doing, something they were missing. What was it?

"You've got to get us closer," said Tex. "They're out of firing range already."

Ace looked at his alien friend. That's it!

"Kill the guns," said Ace. "Shut them down, divert all power to main engines."

"Excuse me?" Laura said.

"Kill the guns, and give me the juice!" shouted Ace.

Laura looked at Stone. He shrugged.

"Give it to him," said Stone.

Michael looked at his pilot. "You gonna ram him?"

Ace answered with a grin that frightened his co-pilot. "You're mad," said Michael. "You'll kill us all!"

"If we don't stop them," said Stone. "Earth dies. Kill the guns."

Tex sat back in his chair as the guns went offline. The extra jolt to the engines pushed everyone back in their seats. Ace let out a whoop. He still wished for that flight stick, but at least now he had a chance to take out his target.

"Buckle up, kids," he said. "This is gonna be rough!"

Trish watched the wall of the hangar move near and far, repeatedly, as Block smashed her face into its ungiving facade. The place was sturdy, no doubt about that, and alien Block was clearly a foe she did not expect. She sparred with human Block once or twice in training exercises years before. He was a formidable opponent, but a little slow, and that slowness had always worked in her favor. Alien block had that extra quick burst his human predecessor had lacked, and he was using it to his advantage.

For the first time in her professional career, Trish was getting her butt handed to her.

The alien laughed, turning and lifting her high. He stared into the crimson mask on Trish's face. "Puny human! Any last words?"

Trish answered by poking a finger in his glowing orange eye socket. She felt a tingling sensation as her finger made contact with some sort of gelatinous substance. Block screamed and threw her weakened body across the floor. Trish skidded to a halt on her arm into a stack of dead lizard men.

She looked up and saw Block coming. One eye was now dripping with glowing orange ooze that had already reached his chin. He was angry, and she steeled herself for the beat down that was coming her way.

Block lifted her by the back of her jumpsuit and punched her like a rag doll. Three times, four times, five. He pulled back for the final killing blow, but a hand gripped Block's fist and stopped him.

It was Stillwater.

He grinned.

"I kill her," he said. "Not you."

Block looked at Trish. He did not like this, Trish could tell. He wanted to end this. But Block relented and set Trish on the ground. Stillwater lifted a blaster gun.

"Goodbye, human," he sneered.

The Dominator crew never saw it coming. They were seconds from making the leap into hyperspace when the impact rocked the giant spaceship, spinning them out of control and sending all systems into chaos.

Red lights flashed. Sirens blared. Commander Simpkins looked out the main viewscreen and saw the Olympia in the distance as it turned and headed back toward them.

Ace's maneuver had worked. A quick jab to the right spot on the third module caused a catastrophic malfunction in fuel and life support systems. Dominator was a lame duck, drifting in space. It would never make the leap to hyperspace.

"Nice flying, Ace," said Stone.

"Thank you, sir," said the pilot.

"Time to put an end to this," said Stone. "Laura, all weapons live. Tex?"

"Make the rain," said Tex. "I know!"

As Ace brought the ship back for another run, Laura brought the laser guns back online. There was no need for the extra speed now. Tex unleashed a volley of laser bolts on the larger ship, and the Olympia sent Dominator to a fiery death.

Stillwater looked down on the woman who had nearly cost him everything. She looked helpless and weak, her face covered in her own blood as he squeezed down on the trigger. Part of him wanted to put the gun down and beat her to death with his bare hands. It was what she deserved, especially after that entrance with the doves. But after witnessing the carnage of the last few minutes, he knew better than to take his chances.

Unfortunately for Stillwater, he didn't consider the risk he was taking making a moment out of her death. His hesitation to pull the trigger while he searched for the right words to say was all she needed to turn the tables on him. As Trish knocked the gun from his hand and leapt up, knocking him on his back, he realized his mistake too late. Pride would be the death of him, he decided, as she placed her hands on either side of his head, twisting his human skin loose and ripping it off, exposing his alien form.

Stillwater, frightened but alive, laughed. "Did you really think that would work?"

"No," said Trish. "But I needed a better grip."

Trish grabbed the alien head tightly in her hands and turned it beyond the breaking point, ending his life.

Trish didn't stop with the crack of the neck. She twisted some more, and then a little more. There would be no question, she decided, as to who the victor was this day. She ripped the lizard man's head from his body with her bare hands and lifted it high for all to see.

All around the hangar, lizard men and human-looking lizard men stood and watched in awe as she stood and lifted the head of their fallen ruler high. Each man held their weapon on her, ready to fire, unable to do so without an order from a superior.

Trish heard a noise off to her left. Out of the tunnel where she had emerged for the final battle, she saw Dr. Tucker, a look of horror on his face.

"Is it over?" he asked.

"Yes," she said.

Tucker saw the head of General Stillwater in her hand. "I guess we won?"

The datapad on Block's belt began to flash. He picked it up and turned it on.

"Yes?" said Block.

"Where is the general?" The unidentified voice echoed in the hangar.

"The general is dead," said Block.

"The Dominator was destroyed," said the voice. "Commander Brockman is demanding our surrender. What do we do?"

"Stand by," said Block. "You will have to speak to our new ruler."

Block handed the datapad to Trish. He looked around at his men, making sure all were watching. He looked back at Trish.

The orange eyed alien knelt before her.

Every man in the hangar did the same, laying their weapons down. Trish looked around the room, seeing her subjects submit to the new regime. She tossed the head aside and turned to the human face on the datapad.

"Give Commander Brockman clearance to land," she said. "There will be peace between his people. And mine."

"As you wish, your majesty," said the face on the datapad.

"Your majesty." Trish didn't feel any more noble. If anything, she felt less worthy of acclaim and admiration than ever. She had more blood on her hands, lives that died needlessly. But even as she counted the ways she was unworthy of being queen, Major Block sank to his knees before her and shouted:

"Hail queen of Krell! The Dakhobbas has come!"

"Hail queen of Krell!" the other men shouted in unison. "The Dakhobbas has come!"

Trish put the datapad in her pocket. She prayed a silent prayer for her life and asked for mercy for the dead. A strange peace came over her as her eyes opened and she heard the chanting echo from the peak of the pyramid to its very depths.

"Hail queen of Krell!"

"Hail queen of Krell!"

"Hail queen of Krell!"

AFTERWORD: THE PREVIOUS ADVENTURES OF TRISH ANGEL

"So if this is the further adventures of Trish Angel, were there previous adventures?"

Yes there were, dear readers. Trish first appeared in the film Fluffy: The Cute and Fuzzy Creature with the Big Blue Eyes and the Button Nose That Will Eat Your Face Off and Pick Its Teeth with Your Toes. Long title, short film starring Jamie Bratcher as Trish and film director Herschel Zahnd III (Girl Number Three) as Stone Brockman. Fluffy told the story of how an expedition to Mars accidentally unleashed a plague of cute and fuzzy aliens on Earth, forcing Trish to save the world for the first time.

After meeting actress Erica Goldsmith (Dead Moon Rising, Overtime), I was inspired to write and direct F2: Fluffy Strikes Back. The sequel began with Trish in a convent, where Stone Brockman (Herschel Zahnd again) found her and asked for her help to destroy the Fluffy aliens once more. This film is easily the best of the Fluffy series and was the most fun I ever had as a director. Great cast, funny script, special effects, just a good time making a movie over a weekend.

Trish returned for one more film, The Last Temptation of Fluffy. The plot's pretty similar to the first two, with the death count being higher and a few more indie film star cameos. The real casting coup for me was getting Len Cella, the star and creator of Moron Movies, to play a bit role in the film. That one ended with Stone and Trish happily in love but ready to fight off yet another Fluffy uprising.

Trish's previous adventures with Stone and Fluffy can still be viewed on YouTube and Vimeo. You can also find them on the Fluffy website, www.fluffythemovie.com.

And since you're still here, why don't you turn the page and read the prequel short story to the Fluffy saga? It'll be a great prep for what you're about to see online.

Enjoy, sci-fi lovers.
FLUFFY 1947

(From the article "Pink Death from Outer Space," written by D. W. Edwards. Published in Amazing Science, Vol. 13, Issue 12, December 1950.)

A cloud of suspicion has descended upon a once quiet place in the Western United States. The tiny hamlet of Roswell, New Mexico, once known only to the men in uniform on the nearby military base, launched into national notoriety just three years ago, thanks to a crashed weather balloon... or was it a crashed UFO?

If you read the early reports out of Roswell, you know that those three, frightening letters - U-F-O - were splashed in big print in headlines across the region. Very quickly, however, the UFO story was retracted in favor of another: the weather balloon, an experimental craft designed to take meteorological readings at high altitude. For many, unable to cope with the awful truth about aliens, the story allowed them to sleep at night. The curious were unable to brush off that early report about a UFO. Nor were they able to forget the haunting photos of dead aliens - the "grays," as they are now known \- lying prone in the desert sands.

Rumors swirled for months that the aliens were not hostile at all, but here on a peace mission. If that were so, why all the secrecy? Why hide the fact that friendlies from a different galaxy had made peaceful contact with our world unless... unless there was something else to hide.

What if there was a something more to the tale, something that had to be kept secret not just from the American public - but the aliens themselves?

The shocking truth is only now coming to light, thanks for a former guard at the secret base known as Area 51. Yes, there was a UFO in Roswell, New Mexico. Yes, there were gray aliens, and yes, many of them died that day. But our would-be allies did not die due to a malfunctioning spacecraft. There was another alien, another visitor on site at Roswell, one with far less benign intentions on our world - one that would shatter any hopes of peace the United States had with the grays.

It was in the waning days of World War II that General Dwight D. Eisenhower shared the news with newly-minted president Harry S. Truman that alien spaceships - or "Foo Fighters," as the troops called them - had made contact with him and other army brass on the battlefield in Europe. Truman put the news on the back burner until after V-J Day, when he appointed former army officer turned researcher Victor Briggs to look into the general's claims.

Soon, Washington DC was in direct contact with the high command of the grays, negotiating for an intergalactic peace treaty. The grays saw a strategic interest in having an ally on our world, and they had chosen the United States with her noble roots as that would-be friend. Arrangements were made for both sides to sit down and put names to a treaty that would span the stars. So it was that Victor Briggs, with his youthful bride Eliza, made their way westward to Area 51 to wait for the arrival of the gray peace delegation.

On July 7, 1947, radar picked up an unidentified object streaking through the skies toward Area 51. The unidentified object was coming in much too fast to land safely and crashed hard into the desert sands. Briggs and General Rusty Hardcastle scrambled the men into the arid night to find the crash site. As dawn approached, the general called off the search, his men unable to even locate the crash site. Briggs expressed concern that perhaps the alien ambassador, Kevlak, had burned up on entering Earth's atmosphere. A radio message at 0700 hours from the grays assured them this was not the case. Briggs went to his office to await further word from his contacts far away.

At noon, Victor Briggs returned home to discover a gruesome sight. His beloved wife Eliza, only twenty years old, was floating in a bathtub filled by bubbles and blood. Her limbs had been chewed to the bone, her eyes eaten out, her face completely gone. The only clue to her death was a small tuft of hair - pink hair - on the edge of the tub.

Briggs summoned the military police. A search of the entire grounds of Area 51 was ordered, and every available man was put to work searching for the creature that had slain Eliza Briggs. Many a soldier shed a tear for the buxom beauty found dead that day - and more than one for personal reasons.

While the long days of waiting were nothing but a thrill to Victor Briggs, they soon became a living Hell for Eliza, a child-bride of twenty, nearly two decades younger than her husband. One of those lovers was a young buck private named Roy Simmons, who went AWOL the same day Eliza was found murdered. Two weeks later, the Army found him living in a hotel outside Los Angeles. It was only then the rest of the story came to light. Simmons was a part of the search party that had tried and failed to locate the crashed unidentified object the night before. But Simmons had discovered something in the desert, a rodent-like creature he described as "round, pink, and irresistibly cute." Intrigued by the creature and its high-pitched "squeaky" sound, Simmons picked it up and tucked it into his jacket, thinking it was nothing more than one of the hundreds of rodents indigenous to the desert night. Simmons smuggled the fluffy critter back to base. Then, at 0900 hours, he snuck away from the barracks to the quiet bungalow of Mr. and Mrs. Victor Briggs.

In a sworn confession given after the ordeal, Simmons claimed to have spent and hour in the company of the raven-haired beauty. He had taken the creature he had named "Puffy" to show his lover, knowing her affinity for cute and fuzzy animals. But when he went to retrieve the creature near the end of their rendezvous, it had disappeared. Seeing an open window and thinking the creature had run for the great outdoors, Simmons excused himself so he could look for it. Eliza took the opportunity to draw up a bubble bath.

Ten minutes later, as he searched the backyard of the Briggs's home, Simmons heard a blood-curdling scream from inside the house. He raced inside to find what was left of Eliza drifting in a bathtub full of bubbles and blood. Before he could even think the words, "What could have done this?" Puffy sprang from the water, making a beeline for Simmon's neck. He ducked out of the way and ran for his life.

With only the pink fuzz to guide them, General Hardcastle's men searched every square inch of Area 51 for a pink creature bearing razor sharp teeth. The men searched deep into the night. Victor Briggs stayed with the General, wanting to be there when word about his wife's killer came. Then, around 2200 hours, a call did come from the landing zone. The alien ambassador, Kevlak, was on the ground - eaten to death.

In his fury and rage, Briggs had forgotten his primary mission. When the aliens arrived after dark, there was no one there to greet them - or protect them. Puffy got to him first, eating out his giant, black eyes and devouring his gray flesh to the fluorescent green bone. He then slaughtered the entire alien entourage before soldiers arrived to kill it.

The panic-stricken Briggs and General Hardcastle knew they could not report this incident to Washington without committing career suicide. Immediately, they released the story about the UFO crash to the papers, hoping the grays would buy the story. Then, fearing a national panic over aliens (and backlash, if the grays learned the truth), the weather balloon story was quickly made up to cover the first lie.

The second lie was soon debunked, and the arrival of a UFO in some form of another is now widely considered fact on Earth. Only now is the real truth coming to light, thanks to former soldiers breaking their code of silence. Unfortunately, the grays were much swifter in learning the real truth, which is why they have spent the last three years draining the blood of our cattle and probing innocent abductees. Some grays have even left messages in their own language, written in cornfields, across the globe. Good taste and decency prevents us from reprinting the English translations here.

Military and executive branch spokesmen have denied all of the facts presented here in this article. Nevertheless, the facts are indisputable. A UFO did land in Roswell, New Mexico in 1947, but the real truth of what happened to those poor visitors is more horrifying than a crash. Our government continues to work hard to re-connect with our gray neighbors. Meanwhile, the military keeps a vigilant eye on the skies for other pink terrors from outer space. The actual origin of "Puffy" remains a mystery to this day, and more frightening than what happened at Roswell is the question, "What if there are more out there?"

God help us all, if it be true.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR

John Cosper is creator of the Fluffy trilogy, a series of short films about a cute and fuzzy alien that nearly destroys the world. He is the author of a number of science fiction adventures including Space Kat, Space Monster, Martian Queen, and Cave World. He is also a wrestling writer and blogger and writes Sunday School curriculum for kids. John lives in Indiana with his wife and two kids.

johncosper.com

