 
Tevun-Krus Special #2

TK Presents @AngusEcrivain... Apparently He Writes Sci-Fi, Too...

Copyright 2016 Daniel A. Greathead

Smashwords Edition

In this, the second TK special to feature a rather prolific - though not the most prolific, by any stretch of the imagination! - contributor of short stories to the ezine, we focus on our co-founder, @AngusEcrivain.

Angus, you're pretty prolific, certainly when it comes to writing for us here at TK. What's that all about?

Well anyone who knows me knows I love to write - I mean, that's why we're here, right? - and Tevun-Krus gives that opportunity to anyone who wants to grab it by the horns and violate it roughly from the rear.

Oddly though, I never intended to write for TK. After the release of the first issue I'm sorry to say that I lost my momentum some. In fact it wasn't until a few months later when my good friend @parishsp shouted down my lug hole, " _Oi! Angus! What the frak are you playing at, dude? TK has a shiteload of potential and you're just letting it stew in its own juices_ ," or something like that anyways, I don't recall the exact conversation!

And then I really only started writing for TK to get things moving. SP and I had multiple conversations about where we saw the ezine going and where we wanted to be... Not quite a five year plan, but you get the point. Then I guess I kinda' couldn't stop, in fact I have to fight myself not to write for every issue - though it's fair to say I invariably contribute something each month, be it an article, review or my favoured short story!

If you had to select a favourite of all your TK submissions, which one would it be and why? Yes, I'm asking you to select your child!

' _Alone in a Godless Universe and Out of Shake 'N Vac_ ,' definitely... Sure I might have pinched the title of that piece from the mighty _Red Dwarf_ but I don't think either Grant or Naylor would mind too much!

The reason it's my favourite is pretty simple, really. That's me. By that I mean the style of the piece, the _'humour_ ,' although that is totally relative, of course! After all, one man's funny is another man's eulogy. But writing like that, particularly writing that short piece, comes so easily to me. I'm not entirely sure what that says about the state of the inside of my nogginbox, of course, though I think it's fair enough to say there's probably a sign somewhere in there, maybe situated upon a counter, stating, ' _Back in 5 mins. Out to lunch_.' Though I suspect the chances are that sign (that may or may not be there) has been there (if it is, indeed, there) for the past thirty-odd years!

Just take a look at ' _Getting Stephen Laid_ ,' and that'll tell you all you need to know!

What're your experiences writing Science Fiction outside of Tevun-Krus?

I'm a Sci-Fi writer. It was science fiction that started me writing, science fiction that I started off writing and science fiction that I'll write 'til, well... Y'know.

_Half-Light_ , my second most popular story on Wattpad by reads - _ZEDS (Season One)_ being the first - is pretty much what I want every Sci-Fi novel/show/movie to be; action-packed and bordering on the ludicrously insane. It deals with a multitude of sub-genres and mashes them together in ways that really, such things ought not be mashed. It works though, and I fucking love everything about that story. It's ongoing, too... In fact the most recent [insert number of chapters here because without looking I don't remember and I really can't be arsed to look right now] chapters were written over the course of three days as my entry to the 2015 3-Day Novel contest. 40K words or so. Not too shabby, really.

'Course my Sci-Fi writing doesn't stop there. _Getting Stephen Laid_ , the _Mars Inc._ duology, _The Day_ , _Dream Girls_ , the _Pearl of the Stars_ (soon to be, eventually) trilogy...

Basically, I fucking love to write Sci-Fi!

**In your view, what is the best thing about Tevun-Krus?**

Honestly, TK is fantastic. 'Course, being the co-founder - alongside the hugely talented @PlanetaryFlex who really doesn't spend as much time 'round these parts as I'd like - I might be biased and I probably am. But the success of the ezine speaks for itself. We have several regular contributors and a whole lotta' people who submit an article, review or short story when their busy schedules permit them time to do so.

TK is going from strength to strength, too. Not only are more and more people getting involved, not only are we adding new features every few months, but in my view the quality of content just keeps on getting better and better. All you have to do is look over the most recent few issues and you'll see that's a fact!

I think the absolute #1 best thing about Tevun-Krus though, is that it always has, currently is and looks set to continue to open up Science Fiction - the best genre of all, let's be honest folks - to a wider and wider audience. We - as in the Royal We, Wattpad's Sci-Fi community - are still vastly behind some of the larger more popular genres on this site - partly due, I think, to people's inability to differentiate between fantasy (sometimes horror and paranormal, too) and science fiction.

We're catching up though, definitely, and I'd like to think that TK is playing a semi-pivotal role in that race. Will we ever get there? Will Sci-Fi ever be as popular with Wattpad readers as romance or some of those fuckawful fanfics? Probably not, but that doesn't mean we're not gonna' try!

And finally, what advice can you give to someone who might be looking to write within a massive variety of Sci-Fi sub-genres, just as you have done and, to be fair, continue to do?

It doesn't matter what you're writing. Whether you write Sci-Fi, Fantasy, Romance, Mystery... There's only one piece of advice you'll ever need and that, my friends, is this.

Write for yourself. Write the story you want to tell. Don't write something just 'cos someone says you should. Write your own story and do so to the very best of your ability and then next time, the very best of your ability will be a notch or two higher. Love what you write because if you don't, it'll be shite!

And, well yes... I realise that was far more than one piece of advice, but hey...
Alone in a Godless Universe, and Out of Shake 'N Vac

There's more than one way to skin a cat. That's how the saying goes, right? But let's be honest; when you really get down to the nitty gritty, when you delve deep into the murky depths and curl the wrinkled tips of your grubby little fingers around what you really, _really_ hope isn't the chicken tikka masala from that dodgy Indian at the end of the street, it all boils down to one thing... Whichever way you look at it, if you're not removing the skin then you're doing it wrong.

Of course, you try telling that to the Cat Skinners of Eck'hi Poot and they'll be like, " _yeah whatever, dude_ ," but to be perfectly candid the Cat Skinners of Eck'hi Poot can do one and besides, you'd actually have to find Eck'hi Poot first and given the fact that the world mentioned thrice in a paragraph probably too small to get away with such a thing orbits an incredibly tiny red dwarf star in one of only three inhabited star systems in a two-galaxy Micro-Universe contained within one of the many freckles upon the face of a fair-skinned, red haired bonnie lass who lives on a houseboat just outside Milton Keynes, the chances of anyone actually finding Eck'hi Poot or, indeed, stumbling across the Cat Skinners who reside upon the aforementioned planet are, to be fair, rather slim indeed.

In fact the only reason anyone, ever, in the history of everything, had heard of the planet mentioned several times in the above paragraph is due to the fact that Philip, No Last Name, an intern working towards a degree in Leisure and Tourism at the Eck'hi Poot Tourist Information Centre, sent an incredibly eloquent, well written email to the Department of Obscure Planets, Planetoids and Lost Moons, and that email failed to end up in the spam folder of one Esmerelda Hopkins, a medical student who refused to work as a stripper to pay her way through college and instead worked every hour she could and got paid peanuts for the privilege as a receptionist.

The funny thing is, although Esmerelda Hopkins rarely saw the funny side, is that she had absolutely no intention whatsoever of working in any conceivable medical profession. As far as she was concerned, she was putting herself through seven years of hell for one reason and one reason only. The fact that she was not earning gazillions working as a stripper annoyed both of her mothers beyond belief.

"So getting your clobber off and dancing all sexy like to some dirty filthy tunes is beneath you, is it?"

"It's good enough for me and your other mother. We raised you right, so we did, but what with you refusing to work in the family business, we can hardly show our faces in public."

"Neither of you have issue showing everything else in public though, eh?"

Mother #1 and Mother #2 were interchangeable, as far as Esmerelda was concerned. The only thing she had ever wanted from them was their blessing that she do something else, anything else, with her life. But no, that was too much to ask, apparently. Regardless to say, neither Mother will be mentioned within the confines of this tale again.

Sometimes, the Universe, as in the Universe that governed all other universes, gets it right. This is one of those occasions for the email directly beneath the one from Philip, No Last Name, an intern working towards a degree in Leisure and Tourism at the Eck'hi Poot Tourist Information Centre, was a communique addressed to her personally.

That in itself was odd considering the firewall should block such communications and return to sender complete with a fifteen second warning of self-destruction.

The email in question did not consist of much at all, however, ' _Esmerelda, get to the roof_ ,' was plenty enough to whet her whistle and with a shrug followed by a quick glance around the room, a vast cavern of a space filled with identical cubicles occupied by individuals all trawling through the monotony of life as they unenthusiastically sought something more, she clicked her heels together three times and walked the room at a considerable pace.

"Where do you think you're going?" The booming voice stopped Esmerelda in her tracks, however she had been prepared for it. There was only one reason for any individual to leave their cubicle outside of the designated periods and that reason was...

"My Miniature Dachshund called... There's a homeless man using my tumble dryer."

She had no reason why that was the only permissible reason for anyone working at the Department of Obscure Planets, Planetoids and Lost Moons, to get up and leave their cubicle, however it was included in the induction package so who was she to argue?

Esmerelda didn't even have a tumble dryer...

"Of course," the booming voice said. "Go, and don't forget to suggest the use of softening sheets. I prefer Summer Meadow myself."

Moments later, Esmerelda Hopkins was on the roof of the building that the Department of Obscure Planets, Planetoids and Lost Moons, called home. The DoOPPaLM actually shared the building with a number of other companies and organisations, including but by no means limited to the Union of Lost Keys, the Caffeine and Nicotine Appreciation Society, and BUPA.

None of that mattered in the slightest though and even if it had, Esmerelda would likely have forgotten that it did the moment she laid her eyes upon a man, undoubtedly the most attractive one she had ever seen. True, she could only see the back of his head, and his back, and the slightest hint of arse-crack that showed above the waistline of his low-slung jeans, but sometimes that was all you needed to see.

"Hello," Esmerelda ventured as she set forth across the roof of the building towards the man whom, she assumed, was dangling his legs and feet of the edge rather than the alternative, which although viable was in her mind not preferable, that being that he actually did not possess legs and feet.

That's not to say that Esmerelda had anything against legless individuals but the way she saw it, anyone who summoned her in whatever form said summoning might be really ought to have a full compliment of limbs or, y'know, be able to remain in an upright position without the use of any foreign objects at any rate. That was simply common decency.

Now I'm not going to bore with the details about how Esmerelda and Garth got to know each other. All you need to know, really, is that Garth was an interdimensional traveller making his way around Time and Space in a spaceship that looked very much like a MK II Ford Escort only much, much bigger. There was none of that bigger on the inside time and relative dimensions in space bullshit. It really was simply a bloody big MK II Escort.

Some months later \- that's later as in some months after Esmerelda originally joined Garth on his vessel, rather than some months after they got to know each other because that could potentially be anything up to and including a few years. I mean, how well do you really know someone, even if you spend every waking nanosecond of every second of every minute of every hour of every day of every week of every month of every year thinking that a certain someone is your best most bestest friend ever and then what do you know? He turns around one day and bites the tip of your knob off... *cough*... Anyways...

Some months later, Esmerelda answered the telephone. You see, their ship - and yes, at this point in time it was most definitely considered ' _their ship_ ,' - was equipped with all of the modern amenities that every interdimensional traveller could ever require, including but by no means limited to the following: A never-ending supply of Bourbon Creams, a dehumidifier, a family of ex-laboratory mice, three marbles, a satsuma with all of the insides removed and a photograph of Bill Clinton with his balls resting upon the chin of Monica Lewinsky.

So, where were we?

Oh yes, that's right...

"Hello," said Esmerelda because as I'm sure you'll remember, she was in the process of answering the telephone, because it rang and that's generally what one does when one hears a telephone, especially a telephone that technically belongs to you, ringing.

Of course I'm sure you all remember the rather unfortunate case of Germolina MMMXXXVIII who, whilst walking along a busy high street having been out shopping for shoes for her mother's eight hundredth wedding, took it upon herself to answer a ringing public telephone and found herself transported to a realm rather like Narnia - but not, obviously... Copyright, and all that... I'm not an idiot - whereupon she was repeatedly gang-raped by a group of Forns - yes, Forns, not Fawns... There's a difference, and not in the slightest because I'm making this crap up - until the day she gave birth to a litter of seventeen - see, that's what happens when humans and Forns fornicate - baby Forn/slash/human hybrids who proceeded to eat her entire being for sustenance... Her entire being, that is, apart from her breasts. Forns don't like breasts. Fricken' weirdos...

"There's too much fog!" a slightly gruff, male voice replied in a rather hasty fashion.

What? C'mon, keep up..! It's only going to get worse, I promise!

"Too much fog?" Esmerelda said, for clarification purposes as opposed to any real need to have the statement repeated but, regardless...

"There's too much fog!" the slightly gruff male voice repeated. "I need someone with a bright shiny nose to guide my sleigh!"

"Who is it, Esmerelda?" Garth asked. He wasn't really interested. To be perfectly honest he was far too busy playing a game of table tennis against himself using his genitals as a paddle.

"I think it's Santa Claus," she replied with a shrug.

"Too much fog?"

"Apparently..."

"Yeah you'll want to hang up... Seriously, bastard'll have you talking for hours and before you know it you'll be falling down chimneys and getting caught in little kids bedrooms and it's just not pretty..."

"Sorry, we don't want any..." she said, and hung up the phone. To be fair she did feel more than a little bit guilty for hanging up on Santa Claus but then again, soot really was not her colour...

"It's been a while since he called, actually," Garth mused, stroking his chin. He had a beard you see, and rather an epic one at that. In fact it was such a full beard that he had always suspected he was part-dwarf. Following aeons - all right so that's a slight exaggeration. For one to have spent aeons doing anything one must have been around for, well... aeons, which Garth had not. He was not an Intergalactic MegaSpace Dragon, you see... Now, they had been around for aeons, and a lot of them. Rumour has it they actually existed before the dawn of the Universe and in fact may be remnants of the Universe that came before... You know what they say about rumours though, right? - of extensive research though, he felt perfectly happy to rest safe in the knowledge that no, there had never been a case of dwarfism of any kind, fantastical or otherwise, in his family.

But more about Intergalactic MegaSpace Dragons... Not only had they possibly been around for longer than forever they were also, as far as Garth was aware, the only other beings capable of traversing interdimensional barriers. They were able to do so without the aid of a big-ass MK. II Ford Escort though, so whichever way one was to look at it they definitely had one up on him, and Esmerelda, too, considering the fact that Garth's ship was her ship, too, ergo, that same capability extended to her and her girl-parts.

"I was actually starting to think he'd decided not to bother anymore, considering the last time I spoke to him I threatened to put on an Easter Bunny costume and kick his rotund derriere."

"I'd probably pay to see that," said Esmerelda with a shrug.

To be fair, there was no _'probably_ ,' about it. No one in their right, or, indeed, their wrong, mind would ever dream of complaining about over-priced tickets and touts wandering the streets offering their wares - as well as a multitude of cheap knock-off T-shirts and brandless cigarettes - would undoubtedly make a killing selling tickets for even the cheapest seats for the ultimate showdown; Santa Claus versus the Easter Bunny.

It'd sell out quicker than a Gary Glitter concert at a pre-school...

Anyways...

"Saying that, his missus is quite the looker."

"Mrs Claus?"

"Aye," Garth replied, a slightly dreamy look in his eyes. "'Course, she went by the name, Katya, before that... A dappy Russian blonde thrice Miss Universe and six-time grand slam champion. Cor, talk about easy on the eyes..."

"You need a moment alone, Garth?"

"I'm all right," he replied, smirking. "How about a change of subject, eh? Where d'yer wanna' go?"

"I don't care," she replied. "I mean, so long as it's somewhere new. I don't wanna' go anywhere we've been before."

"Somewhere new, you say?" Garth had the look about him of a man with nefarious intent. In his defence though, that was nothing new. In fact that had been one of the first things Esmerelda had noticed about him and she had said as much. Garth had not replied, of course, though he did smirk.

You see the thing about travelling interdimensionally, or trans-dimensionally if you will, is that theoretically every single _'new_ ,' place you go is just that; new. Theoretically, because every single _'new_ ,' place that you go is simply an incredibly hazy photocopy of every place you've been before. There are subtle differences, like maybe the grass is more orange on the other side, perhaps there isn't any shrimp or just maybe, though I suspect it's unlikely, you might encounter a dimension where licking your own - or, for that matter, anyone else's - testicles _isn't_ preferable to eating Pot Noodle, but when you get right down to the nitty gritty of it all, a spade will always be something similar to a shovel.

***

You might be wondering at this point, if you're the kinda' person who's inclined to wonder such things, whether a plot is going to show up any time soon or even if there's a point of any kind to this story.

The answer to both those questions, if that is indeed what they are, is no.

Taking that prior revelation into consideration, it really should come as no surprise that what happened next did, indeed, happen next.

You see that's the wonderful thing about telling a story. As God, because as far as you're concerned right now that's exactly who I am, in the context of this work of fiction at any rate, I can make anything happen. I am the all-knowing, all-seeing eye. I'm omnipotent - you are? I'm sorry, man... *cough*... Fuck it, I'm the bloody flaming eye thing in Lord of the Rings.

I'm...

_What? No I'm all right_...

I beg to differ.

_Beg all you like, sonny Jim_.

My name isn't Jim.

_No but your big booming voice has got my attention so go on, I'll bite. What's your name_?

My name is...

_It doesn't matter what your name is. Now you'd better Skid Row lest I unleash an unholy can of whoopass_...

Whoopass?

_Yeah, y'know... Like, kick you in the shins or some such_.

I don't have any shins.

_What kinda' weirdo doesn't have any shins_?

The kinda' weirdo who actually _is_ the all-knowing, all-seeing eye.

_You mean to say_...

Yes, I mean to say...

***

-Thank you for your patience. We now return to our regular programming. Sorry for any inconvenience-

***

"Garth?" Nothing. No reply. Not even the most faint of murmurs. " _Garth_!"

All right... Clearly something happened, something that probably shouldn't have happened or at the very least, something happened that no one was expecting to happen.

_I can't work it out though. My head's killing me. It's dark, it's so dark and it's really cold. I think I'd probably have goose-pimples if I wasn't an_...

_Awh, man._.!

And then there was light, and it was good. At least, it would have been good if it had been anything that resembled a normal light. But it wasn't. It was the first light, a light so bright that it shone throughout the Universe, illuminating every hidden nook and secret cranny.

And it shone upon a door, and the armadillo walked through it...

***

Esmerelda shook her head and resisted the urge to scratch at a particularly irritating itch that she was almost certain did not exist.

She glanced at Garth. Her companion had upon his face an expression of complete and total befuddlement.

"Well at least I'm not alone," she muttered.

"That was... odd," said Garth, and he was right.

"It's still, odd..." Esmerelda replied, and she was right, too.

"Were you..?" he asked, an eyebrow cocked. "Y'know..?"

"Yeah," she replied, glancing down at her fully human body to make sure that she was, indeed, fully human. "I mean, I think..."

"What's with all the unfinished, erm..."

"I, erm... I've never..."

"...can't explain..."

"Telly?"

"Yeah."

Well, there's at least two sentences they managed to complete, right?

"Is that..?"

"Dunno'...I've never..."

"We should... Y'know..?"

"But what if it isn't..?"

"But it is, I mean... can't you feel..?"

"I can feel... something."

"It is, Garth... It's..."

"Well, what's he doing, like..?"

"...escape."

***

The long haired bearded chap glanced from Esmerelda to Garth and back again. He repeated the process, over and over, in a very 'lather, rinse, repeat,' type fashion.

"Aoruihygnlja?" he asked, and instantly realised that what he had wanted to say and what he actually did say were two very, very different things, and he tried again. "Skdfjhgjrshkwjen uuusiiisooofmmmamnng."

"Now don't quote me on this, Garth," said Esmerelda, quietly. "But I think he's trying to say something."

"Iiiiishhhfhhhhgjjskkvmmmmmhm yyyakskkkks"

"I think you're right."

"Ffffooooorooorrrrfffffuuuuuuuckkkssaaaakeofcourseshesfuckingright!"

With a wild-eyed expression the man got to his feet and attempted to walk, though he promptly face-planted the floor. When he got back up again he had a bloody nose, because that's what tends to happen when one hits the floor with one's face.

"Nowouldsomeonemindawfullytelling me what the fuck I'm doing here?"

"You're him!" Esmerelda and Garth exclaimed in unison, and then shared a look of mutual shame that they had actually done such a thing.

Esmerelda gestured to Garth that he should carry on talking and he should do so alone, so he did.

"You're the Writer."

"Well I suppose that explains why I know everything about the two of you already, despite the fact you've not been particularly forthcoming with anything by way of information," the Writer replied. "The only thing I don't know is, as I'm pretty sure I've already made clear, what in the actual fuck I'm doing here."

"Pretty sure you pissed off God," said Esmerelda. "Or at the very least you pissed on his chips and took a big steaming crap in his Diet Coke."

"Not entirely sure how I can have pissed off an entity in whom I don't actually believe, but whatever."

"Do you have another explanation for it?"

"I'm sure I'll come up with something," the Writer replied, smirking. "I mean, if I'm the writer..."

"Not the writer," Garth interrupted. "The _Writer_."

"If I'm the _Writer_ ," the Writer continued without missing so much as a single beat. "Then I can write whatever the hell I want, right?"

"But what about God?" Esmerelda asked, and to be fair it was a perfectly feasible and valid question.

"Fuck him," the Writer scoffed. "You don't get it... I built this place. In here I make the rules, in here I make the threats... In here, I'm God."

"No offence intended, but he clearly beat you last time else you wouldn't have ended up wherever you were, and we certainly wouldn't have ended up as, erm..."

"What can I say? Dude caught me off guard," the Writer smirked. "Shit like that don't happen twice. He got lucky; ain't gonna' get lucky again."

***

"Bugger," said God, who was listening in whilst engaged in a three-way with a couple of angels, because he's God and the ladies love that shit.

And so, as God got a rimjob from a blonde with double D's and a dapper pair of wings whilst simultaneously shagging a similarly winged redhead up the arse, the Writer took a seat, took out his pen, and wrote.

***

The big-ass MK II Ford Escort rose through the clouds. Luckily the wipers worked else visibility would have been a bitch.

Up and up and up it went until the vessel finally broke through the clouds and there, sure enough, were the Pearly Gates.

To be fair, ' _was_ ,' might be a better choice of word, given the fact that the Pearly Gates were not actually gates at all.

"Man, that's a big ship," said Garth who had always been a peace-loving kinda' chap, until he had met the Writer, anyway. Now, his face was pocked with battle scars and he had a bionic eye. "Dreadnought Class, if I'm any judge."

"Gotta' be if'n it's guardin' Heaven," Esme replied with a low whistle. Since meeting the writer, you see, she was no longer Esmerelda because Esmerelda did not exist. She was Esme, an outlaw; a gun for hire, hired by Garth because for the assault on Heaven he required a totally fearless, badass pilot, and Esme was pretty good when it came to flying shit. "Gonna' cost you's extra though... No one said nothin' to me 'bout goin' up 'gainst a damn Dreadnought Class, 'specially not in a big-ass MK II Ford Escort. Ain't the most manoeuvrable of vessels, if'n you catch my drift."

_I can probably do something about that_.

"Now that's more like it," said Esme, grinning broadly to reveal that several of her teeth were, in fact, gold. "Send a Dreadnought to blow the shit out of a Dreadnought."

"We gotta' do more than just blow the shit outta' that Dreadnought," said Garth. In truth he was scared, shit scared. True enough he'd seen and done things that would make a Millwall FC supporter run home to his momma. On a smuggling run out beyond the eighth quadrant, for example, he had...

No, he could not even think about it... The thought alone was enough to make him crap his pants.

Or was it? Maybe he had simply...

"Man, is that you's?" Esme said, turning up her nose.

"Yeah, sorry," replied a sheepish Garth.

"Whatever," the badass chick replied. "I'll get us in nice 'n close then you hit the ' _Heaven Destroyer_ ,' button, an' we'll be back to whorin' an' killin' in two shakes."

With that same gold-toothed grin, Esme drove the Dreadnought forwards. The vessel took heavy fire but shook it off with ease. Realising that she could probably ram the opposing ship and take nothing more than minimal damage that's exactly what she did, sending that Dreadnought into a wild spin, its life support systems failing as it spiralled towards Heaven itself.

"Hit it yer bastard!" she yelled, and Garth did.

***

Garth and Esmerelda awoke simultaneously. Both were feeling decidedly groggy, so much so that they could have been forgiven for thinking they'd had a week out on the lash.

"Something's different," Garth said sometime later when the two of them were sitting in the big-ass MK II Ford Escort's galley, each enjoying a bowl of Coco Pops. "I can't quite put my finger on it."

"Did we..." Esmerelda cut herself off and shook her head.

"Did we what?"

"Did we... _destroy_ Heaven?"

"Awh man," Garth wailed. "I kinda' thought that was a dream, and what's that smell?"

"We did, didn't we?"

"I mean it... What's that _bloody_ stench?"

"I dunno', man, but I reckon it's time for us to move on don't you?"

"Yeah I do."

That was far easier said than done though for having made their way to the bridge, Garth and Esmerelda quickly discovered that ' _moving on_ ,' was quite impossible, given the fact that according to the vessel's computer systems, the big-ass MK II Ford Escort was no longer capable of traversing dimensional barriers. Nor, it seemed, had such a thing ever been possible.

"So we can't traverse dimensions, and we've destroyed the Heaven of this dimension?" Esmerelda asked, chuckling, because if she didn't she may well have cried. "Not bad for a day's work."

"Aye," said Garth. "It's you and me, Esme, alone in a Godless universe, and seriously what the hell is that smell? I bet we're out of Shake 'n Vac, too."

Persiphone

"Well now... you're lookin' mighty fine, Miss Daisy. What say you an' I go upstairs an' I show you what you're missin' out on, lettin' your girls have all the fun?"

"Tol' you before, Sheriff. Ain't nothin' gets in my drawers 'cept me an' what runs on batteries. Now if you'd kindly take a step back; I'd hate to do somethin' I might regret, 'specially you being a lawman an' all."

"You makin' threats, Miss Daisy?"

"That I am, Sheriff," she replied, pushing the inebriated lawman away so she had room to retrieve the six-shooter from the holster at her hip. "An' listen close 'cause I speak true; this threat is anythin' but idle."

"Ain't a wise move, threat'nin' the law like that." The Sheriff lunged, catching Miss Daisy's wrist before she had chance to get a shot off. He pulled her towards him, relieving her of her weapon as he did so.

"I ain't ever seen a six-shooter like this," he said. "But you got yerself in some kinda' conundrum, Miss Daisy. Either you open your legs for me or today's the day I'll be shootin' me a who-re."

"Pretty sure the lady ain't interested in receivin' your affections, friend."

The sheriff whipped himself around, dragging Miss Daisy with him as he did so. It was not obvious to him who the speaker was. There were several people in the room, none of whom appeared to be looking in his direction.

"Which one o' you cowards ain't got the stones to show yer face when yer talk to me?" he yelled, yet no one made any moves to turn around and face him. "I'll be takin' this who-re upstairs then. Ain't no man gon' wan' fuck her when I'm done."

Yanking the woman by the frill at the back of her collar, the sheriff dragged her across the room towards the stairs. No man made any effort to stop him but as his feet fell heavily upon the staircase, two men at the bar turned to each other in such a way that the staircase and balcony above were entirely visible in their peripherals.

"Coulda' shot him dead right there."

"Coulda', but it ain't your place any more'n it's mine... 'Sides, Daisy's plenty capable of handlin' herself else you and I both know we wouldn't be leavin' the dirty work to her."

"Aye. An' it's my train o' thought that bastard'll be confused as all Hell when the Mach won't work for him."

"A trigger with fingerprint recognition's a wonderful thing."

One of the men glanced at his pocket watch and sighed, deeply.

"You gon' be all right here?" he asked. "Only it's five n' twenty past. Wanna' make sure Ettie's all ship shape an' ready to fly."

"Don't worry none, Ronnie," was the reply. "I got this under control."

Ronnie didn't doubt for even the slightest second that what Ed, his lifelong friend and second in command, said was true so with a tip of his Stetson, he slipped his buttocks from the wooden stool and quickly made his way out of the saloon.

It was a bright night, Manak's three large natural satellites casting light enough to make the shadows that little bit darker than Ronnie liked.

He checked the shooters at either hip, more for reassurance than anything else. There was no immediate danger – not yet, anyway. 'Course, as soon as Daisy put a hole through that raping bastard of a sheriff's head, that'd change pretty rapidly.

Manak was the very definition of a frontier planet. Situated at the very edge of Section 7, its original purpose was to be used as a base from which Section 8 would be explored, however the war raging between Sections 3, 4 and 6 had put a dampener on humanity pushing any further into uncharted space – for the time being, at least.

Every time Ronnie saw her, he couldn't help but marvel at her beauty; The gorgeous, perfectly symmetrical curves, sleek lines and the battlement atop the vessel that had got him out of more scrapes than he cared to mention. The fact that the enormous Gatling hadn't functioned for several months wasn't the point; The threat of the weapon shredding a hull to pieces was generally enough to quiet even the most aggressive of adversaries.

And there she was, looking as radiant as the day he'd won her. Not at cards, that wasn't his game, but put a gun in his hand and he'd shoot straight through a tin can 'round a ninety degree bend. It was a gift, plain and simple, and Ronnie wasn't normally the type to show off but you can't be Captain without a ship.

_Persiphone_ was much more than just a ship though. _Persiphone_ was home.

"Mornin', Cap'n." Ronnie tore his eyes away from the vessel and instead, flashed Ettie a smile as she made her way down the ramp that dropped from _Persiphone's_ undercarriage.

"'Spose'n it is, techni'cly," he replied with a chuckle. "How's she lookin', Ettie? An' there's no need to go easy on me, tell it like it is."

"You really wanna' know, Cap'n?" the young girl asked, her eyebrow raised. "'Cause I don' have any quarrel sugarcoatin' it."

"Well young Ettie, you've twisted my arm," Ronnie said, smirking. "Tell me she'll fly an' I'll be happy as a preacher on Monday."

"She'll fly, Cap'n."

"Good girl." He ruffled her greasy mop of hair as they strode side-by-side up the ramp, and smiled. Ronnie definitely thought of Ettie as the daughter he'd never had. She'd joined his crew three years back after a job went horribly wrong and her folks got caught in the crossfire. Not only did Ronnie feel responsible for that then, and still, for that matter, but had he left her the girl would've surely ended up in one of what the Union called, generously mind, ' _orphanages_.' In truth they were little more than workhouses and in Ronnie's experience, most of the kids sent there turned to crimes much worse than any he ever committed within a few years.

So he and Ed had taken her under their respective wings. She'd taken to life on board a ship like a stripper pretending she enjoys her job – pretty damn quickly. At only thirteen years old she knew her way 'round an engine better than Ed, and Ronnie was certain that if he gave her a rock and a strip of metal she'd be able to build a city. A slight exaggeration, perhaps, but the girl could've been a damn engineer keeping an entire fleet flying, rather than making sure a rusting death trap – albeit a delectably sexy rusting death trap – just about managed to stay in the sky.

"Bunks ready for our guests?"

"Aye, Cap'n." Ronnie had no idea what he'd do without her. "The four suites are double-stacked, an' the rest'll have to make do with mattresses in the Mess."

"Better'n what they'd be suff'rin by stayin' put so I doubt we'll hear much by way of complainin'."

An intercom upon the wall several feet back towards the ramp burst into life with a fizz of static, before Ed's voice could be heard semi-clearly.

"Comin' in hot, Cap'n. There's a damn posse on our tail."

Ronnie made a dive for the intercom and hit the button that enabled him to communicate with Ed.

"Door's open all welcome, like," he replied. "Ettie's ready to give us all the power she can an' as soon as you're all on board, I'll have us up, up and away quicker'n you can take a piss."

"Aye, Cap'n," replied Ed as Ettie turned, sprinting for the engine room.

"Oh, Ed."

"Yes, Cap'n?"

"Don't go getting' yerself all shot up again."

"Aye, Cap'n. Reckon I intend on avoidin' that this time."

Chuckling, Ronnie released the button and broke into a run for the bridge. It wasn't too often he got to fly _Persiphone_ , that task normally befell Ed, but that was not to say he was anything but an expert on the stick.

"Get those engines wound up to eleven, Ettie," he said over the comm once he was in position. "Ain't got time for misfirings and whatnot."

"Imma pretend you di'nt jus' say that, Cap'n," she replied. "Ain't worried 'bout me but you can't go 'round utterin' such profanities; _Persiphone's_ gon' hear ya'."

"Well now, can't have that, can we?" he said, chuckling as he gently caressed the arm of the chair in which he sat. "Ed, y'all on board yet?"

"Almost, Cap'n," came Ed's barked reply. "Count to five an' we're good."

"Right you are, good buddy."

Silently, Ronnie counted down from five. Upon the wordless utterance of zero, he flicked a switch and pulled back on the stick, tilting _Persiphone_ to a forty-five degree angle, her nose pointing towards the sky.

But a few feet beneath him, the only separation a few sheets of reinforced metal and several thousand miles of cabling, he guessed, the thrusters held the vessel steady.

"It's on you, Ettie," he said, quietly. "Give me full burn an' we'll get our sweet derrières off this damn rock."

***

Ronnie slugged from the bottle, keeping his eyes on Miss Daisy as she tucked into a sandwich one of her girls had whipped up for her. There was no denying she was easy on the eyes, a fact that only served as a benefit in her chosen profession yet there was an innocence about her, too. Ronnie found that combination mightily agreeable, and add the fact that she'd just killed a man into the mix and you'd got the kind of woman Ronnie would crawl naked over hot coals for.

"We're in your debt, Captain," she said, dabbing at her mouth with a napkin. "Me 'n my girls, we owe you our lives."

"Don't owe nothin' 'cept payment," he replied, kindly. "Ain't havin' talk of 'how can I ever'n repay you,' or some-such nonsense. _Persiphone'll_ get yer to Gull Breach, you's'll pay us cold hard cash an' then we'll all go 'bout our business."

"Thank you, Captain," she replied with a gracious nod.

"It be a trip lasts three days so providin' we don't run afoul of them wishin' us harm," he paused and fished a homemade from the pocket of his jerkin, and a book of matches from the opposite pocket, "then you n' your girls be back to whorin' soon enough, jus' not on my boat, not on _Persiphone_. Other'n that, you's've got the run o' the place."

***

A little shy of three days later, _Persiphone_ touched down on Gull Breach. It was a relatively tiny moonlet, allowing only for the small town of Gull Breach itself, plus a handful of ranches, farms and at the magnetic pole, the geothermal power-plant that served the moonlet and the thousands upon thousands of vessels that made use of that power.

For its size, Gull Breach was the most tectonically-active planet, planetoid, moon, moonlet or asteroid in all of the eight sections, which meant that any building on the surface of the planet could withstand pretty much anything.

"Now I've called ahead," said Ronnie as before him, Miss Daisy's girls made their way slowly down the ramp. "The whorehouse's right next to the saloon, an' they're def'nitely a Lady shy of a full house. You an' your girls'll fit in right quickly, I'm sure."

"Thankin' you, Ronnie," she said, wrapping her arms around the Captain's neck as she pulled him close for a hug. Whilst there, she whispered into his ear. "Any time you find yerself out this way... It's on the house."

"That's mighty kind of you, Miss Daisy, an' I'll surely take that into consideration." He smiled, and gestured that she should follow after her girls.

"Tryin' to get rid of me, Captain?"

"Ain't that an' you knows it," he replied. "But Ed's picked up on chatter sayin' we got Union ships in these parts. Ain't a worry for you but for me n' mine... We don't want no Union troubles."

"'Course yer don't," she replied. "I'll keep yer from yer business no longer, Captain... Wait, where's Bess?"

"Bess?"

"Young girl, redhead. Buttocks like the ripest peach you ever did see."

"Couldn't rightly say," he replied. "Ain't seen her and that's the truth."

" _Bess_!" Miss Daisy shouted down the ramp. "Girls, y'all seen Bessie?"

"Says she was stayin', Miss. Says she got business out in the 'Verse."

" _Bessie_!" she turned to face up the ramp, her voice echoing around the cargo hold.

"Stayin', Miss," Bess replied, poking her head around the corner at the top of the ramp. "If'n it's OK with the Cap'n, 'course."

"Can always use a spare pair o' hands," Ronnie replied. "But it ain't up to me."

"Please, Miss. I'll beg yer if I have ta."

"Captain?"

"Like I say I got no quarrel with the girl stayin', 'long as she's willin' to pull her weight." He paused, turning to face the girl. "'Til we know what you're good at 'sides whorin', you're on cleanin' duty. Get your own bunk, plus three square meals a day if'n we got the food. You's'll get a cut of any job we take whilstever you're on board, too."

"No quarrel, Cap'n."

"Right you are," Ronnie replied. "Once we're up in the air, Ettie'll show yer to yer bunk."

"Look after her fo' me, Ronnie," said Miss Daisy with a smile.

"No question, she's crew. Now, go 'fore I got no choice but to push you off this ramp."

***

Together, Ronnie and Ed stared out at the three enormous Union Cruisers that were blocking their path. Upon the bridge all was dark and the rest of _Persiphone_ was much the same.

"Soon as we Ettie winds that drive they'll be on us, Cap'n," said Ed, knowing full well that he was stating the obvious but regardless, he felt it needed saying.

The ship and her crew were wanted fugitives in six of the eight sections, and as neither Section Three nor Section Four was close enough to run towards whilst being chased by Union Cruisers, options were severely limited.

"'Could always go for a noisy burn, drop back into Gull Breach airspace an' hope they assume we're a fuel transport that got itself off course."

"Nine times outta' ten that ain't gonna' work, Ed," Ronnie mused. "Thing is, I'm all outta' other ideas."

Ronnie activated the intercom. Whilst it did use a little power and therefore, potentially, the Union Cruisers could have noticed, the likelihood of them noticing such a minuscule drain was very small indeed.

"Ettie, Bess... Get your hiney's up 'n on the bridge. We's gotta' run somethin' past yer."

"Hope they's got a better idea 'twix 'em, Cap'n, 'cos no offence an' all but it's my reckonin' we're gonna' end up with steel bars 'twix us 'n freedom fora' coupla' nights 'fore we get to spend some time in the fresh air, swingin' in the breeze."

"Union Cruisers?" Ettie asked as she and Bess arrived on the bridge, staring out through the window. "They here for us?"

"Prob'ly, but they prob'ly don't know it. Reckon they've heard 'bout the dead sheriff on Manak by now an' it's just an unhappy coincidence for them to be blockin' our way outta' here."

"You figured on a noisy burn?"

"Way I see it, we ain't got any other option."

"No guarantees but unless we gotta' way to convince 'em we're Union, a noisy burn's the way to go."

"What's a noisy burn?" Bess asked.

"Basic'ly we wind the drive beyond maximum an' drop back to Gull Breach usin' minimum power," Ed replied.

"Maximum noise, minimum effort," Ettie added.

"Only issue with that, is that it prob'ly ain't gonna' work."

Bess scratched her head, scrunching her face thoughtfully as she did so.

"Got an idea, Bess?" Ronnie asked. "We're all ears, so anythin' you got we'd be grateful, like."

She took a deep breath before she spoke, and when she did her voice was completely different. She still sounded like Bess, but not the Bess any of them had come to know over the last few days.

"My apologies for deceiving you, Captain, all of you, but you can berate me for that later if you so wish. Right now, you can choose to trust me and that I'll get you out of what could potentially be a rather nasty situation, or you can take your chances with your noisy burn tactic."

Three dumb-founded faces stared back at Bess and she sighed, shaking her head irritably.

"Move out of the way, Ed. If you want my help then I require the use of your console."

Without saying a word and still keeping his eyes fixed upon Bess, Ed pushed himself away from the console and as requested, vacated the chair.

Bess slipped quickly into the empty seat and said, "open a secure line. Point-eight-eight-dash-zero-one," as her fingers danced busily over what should have, by rights, been a completely unfamiliar dash.

"Well?" she demanded. "Are you all just going to stand there looking at me like idiots? Someone, please, open the damn line and Ettie, you might want to get down to the engine room as quickly as you can."

"Yeah... Erm, Ettie, Ed... Do what she says."

With a shrug in Ronnie's general direction, Ed did as he was asked.

"Secure line point-eight-eight-dash-zero-one," he repeated both for himself and to ensure Bess knew exactly what he had done.

"Union Cruiser this is call-sign Dark-Alpha-Niner. Repeat, Dark-Alpha-Niner. I need to speak to Admiral Ahmed at once, this is a matter of great urgency."

"Roger that, Dark-Alpha-Niner. Message received and understood. Please stand by."

"What the f..?"

"Admiral Ahmed is Union code, meaning we're on a high priority mission designated beyond black ops and require immediate safe passage. In less than ten seconds, we'll have our reply," Bess explained. "There's no Union Captain in the 'Verse who'd dare question that code. They'd rather let us go and verify later, than risk endangering our mission."

As sure as eggs is eggs, nine seconds after their initial response, the Union Cruiser made their reply.

"Dark-Alpha-Niner this is _UC Juliet-Papa_. You are free to proceed. Repeat, your path is clear."

"Told you," Bess whispered and then, into the comm, "understood, _UC Juliet-Papa_. Dark-Alpha-Niner, out."

"Well I'll be a..."

"Ettie, give me everything you have," said Bess, interrupting Ronnie mid-flow. "We certainly don't want to hang around here for long enough for out friends aboard _UC Juliet-Papa_ to change their minds."

"Helm's yours, Ed," said Ronnie with a nod. "Me an' Bess gonna' have ourselves a wee drink an' a wee chat."

***

Ronnie popped the cap on a bottle of beer and slid it across the stained mahogany counter to Bess, before doing the same for himself. Then he hopped up onto the counter and swigged deeply of the beer, relieving it of almost two-thirds of its contents before he spoke.

"So..." He left that single syllable word hanging impotently in the air for a few seconds, quite unsure how to tackle the rather large elephant that seemed to take up the majority of the galley's breathable air. "You ain't a whore?"

"No," she replied. "I mean, I like to fuck don't get me wrong but that's not my trade. The whoring was a cover."

"Fo' what?"

"I shall tell you, Captain, but it's my honest opinion that it'd be far better for you if I didn't." She paused, giving him time to say something if he was so inclined, whilst she swigged from the bottle in her hand.

"Officially, I'm a mid-level Union paper pusher, but they don't know I'm out here..." Again she paused, yet Ronnie remained silent.

"No one does, in fact my bosses believe I'm dead."

"There's gotta' be a reason a lass takes it upon herself to fake her death an' whore her way 'cross the Sections."

"I didn't fake my death, as such... I just, didn't argue with their conclusion but I digress... There _is_ a reason."

From the pocket of her jerkin she produced a datacard, no larger than the nail of her thumb yet capable of holding enormous amounts of information, and held it aloft.

"I can trust you, Captain?"

"If you di'nt think you could, it's my train 'o thought I'd still think you were a whore."

"Fair point," she replied with a firm, definitive nod. "This datacard holds the coordinates of a top secret Union prison moon. You won't find it on any star chart; it won't even show on your radar. I stumbled upon it quite by chance, really, though of course everyone within the Union knows of its existence, its location is known to only a handful."

"You got someone y'know bein' held there?" Ronnie asked, quickly realising that it was the only logical conclusion.

"My elder sister," Bess replied. "I mean I don't know for certain, but having checked and rechecked room and board for every known prison ship, planet or moon in all of the Sections, I don't see another option."

"What'd she do?" he asked as he made his way to the refrigerator and grabbed a couple more beers.

"She led a protest against the way Union prisoners are treated and apparently, it didn't go down too well," she replied with a weak smile, taking the beer gratefully. "Three years, Captain. Three years since those bastards took her... Three years since I last saw my sister."

"Shoulda' just said, y'know," replied Ronnie,smiling. "'Course, yer di'nt really know me – still don't but listen close, girl. I ain't the kinda' dude likes to play games, nor am I the kinda' dude who's gonna' leave a lass in some secret super-max for leadin' a protest so I'll help yer, yer got me on board. Ed and Ettie, well that's up to them. Ain't gonna' force 'em t'do nothin 'cos I'll tell yer this; we jailbreak your sister the full force of the Union's gonna' come down on us like nothin' you ever did see."

"Thank you, Captain... That really does mean a great deal."

"'S'all good," Ronnie replied with a nod. "So these coordinates..?"

"It'll be easier if I show you, Captain."

***

Moments later they were back on the bridge, arriving just as Ettie was about to make her way, once again, down to the engine room.

"'Fore y'go, Ettie, Bess here's got summat else we all should see," said Ronnie, insinuating by way of a nod that Bess was free to use whichever console she desired.

Opting for the nearest terminal, Bess took a seat and quickly inserted the datacard into the relevant slot, and typed an access code. No sooner had she done that did the screen come alive with flashing images and reams upon reams of information.

"There," she said, pointing to the screen at the exact moment it stabilised upon the image of a minuscule star system.

"Ain't ever seen that system before," said Ronnie, quietly.

"I did say you wouldn't recognise it," Bess replied. "It's a brown dwarf system, one planet with a single moon and the latter houses the most secure prison mankind has ever built."

"Where is it?" Ed asked.

"Seven hundred and eleven clicks into the proposed Section 8."

"Di'nt think there was nothin' in Section 8."

"Trust me, there is... You think Manak is a lawless place? If half of the stories whispered at Union functions are true, then Section 8 makes it look like Vatican."

"Wait... What in shit we even talkin' 'bout goin' into Section 8 fo'?" asked Ettie. "Y'hear shit, y'know? Bad shit."

"Well it seems Bess got a sister who got herself all incarcerated for protestin' 'gainst the Union an' she's on her way to bust out her kin."

"Sounds reasonable enough," said Ed with a grunt. "Y'know I ain't one to ignore a damsel in distress, Cap'n."

"Thanks, Ed... Ettie?"

"Can't let you two go off on your lonesome without no one to make sure you's lookin' after _Persiphone_ all proper, like," she replied, shaking her head with a small smile upon her face. "I'm in, too."

***

"Ain't enjoyin' this at all, Cap'n," said Ed as with all of her systems with the exception of life support dark, _Persiphone_ held station half a click off the prison moon. "Don't get me wrong there ain't much I like better than givin' the Union the middle finger, but this is way beyond our standard hijinks."

"You're not having second thoughts are you, Ed?" Bess asked, arriving on the bridge as Ed was mid-way through his mini monologue.

"Never had second thoughts 'bout nothin' in my life," he replied, defensively. "Jus' sayin', is all."

"She's pullin' yer leg, Ed. I ain't too crazy 'bout this plan, either, but you an' me we're gonna' see it through 'cause we said we would an' that's what we do. 'Sides, Bess is crew which makes her kin crew, too."

"True enough," the pilot replied. "So what's the plan?"

"We're going to land," Bess replied. "I can't say for certain but I suspect that considering this prison is an incredibly closely guarded secret, security will be minimal. As best I can tell, there is a compound surrounded by an electric fence which is where all personnel are posted. Outside the fence there are no walls and more importantly, no rules."

"Y'reckon yer sister's out there somewhere, beyond the fence?"

"I do."

"Right you are... Ed, let's get us a closer look."

With the slightest of nods, Ed fired _Persiphone's_ secondary thrusters. Not using the engine to its full capacity meant it would take several hours to cover the relatively short distance to the prison moon but if it meant keeping the element of surprise, then it was worth the extra time taken.

"Ettie," Ronnie barked over the intercom. "We're gon' be touchin' down in less time than it takes to rope a Manakan steer... Be a doll an' get our weapons an' ammo prepared."

"Sure thing, Cap'n," Ettie replied midst a mess of static. "Ain't like I'm much use whilst _Persiphone's_ only runnin' thrusters."

***

Ed put _Persiphone_ down within the compound but far enough away from what he assumed were a small barracks, so that their arrival went all but unnoticed.

"No killin'," said Ronnie. "'Least, no killin' the guards. Once we're beyond the fence I reckon killin's gonna' be our only option."

"You and I, Ronnie," said Bess. "Only you and I are going beyond the fence. Ed and Ettie should stay here and ensure we have a ship upon which to make our escape."

Ronnie nodded and within moments, he and Bess were running towards the fence. As they made their approach she produced a small device of some kind. He soon realised that it was a localised EMP emitter, for as soon as Bess hit the button atop it, a section of the fence went dark.

"Thirty seconds, Ronnie," said Bess as she quickly scaled the fence. "Hurry, else you'll end up extra crispy."

No sooner had both of his feet found the ground on the other side of the fence did the pulse wear off and the fence was live once again. With a shrug, Ronnie ran after Bess. She had quite a stride on her, and Ronnie found that he struggled a little to keep up.

"How we gonna' go about findin' yer kin?" Ronnie asked when he finally managed to catch up to Bess. "Ain't seen a soul out here since we jumped the fence. Reckon most like to remain hidden; I know I would."

"I know my sister, Captain. I know that she would keep herself to herself, and that she would remain within running distance of the compound."

"Your runnin' or my runnin? 'Cause I don' mind admittin', I'm a mite outta' shape."

Ignoring Ronnie's remark, Bess scanned the horizon from their vantage point roughly two-thirds of the way up a steady incline.

"Where are you, Cass?" she whispered. Then she saw it, a thin plume of blue-green smoke rising up at the edge of a small, wooded area.

"There!" she hissed. "Ronnie, do you see?"

"I do, but I ain't runnin' that far."

***

Ronnie and Bess walked carefully down what, for want of a better phrase, was probably a garden path. The ground beneath their feet was a thick, orange mud, and the edges were defined by forty-two spikes, twenty-one on either side, all of which were topped off with a very dead head. If that alone had not been enough to freak Ronnie out, then the expressions upon some of the dead faces certainly were.

The path led to a run-down cottage, an _actual_ cottage, with a red door and a smoking chimney.

As there did not seem to be any other option, Bess knocked upon the door.

"Got some damn balls comin' knockin' on my door, you have. Freya send ya', did she? Well she's gonna' get yer lungs in a box like the last time."

Silently, Bess and Ronnie turned around. The sight that met them was one of a girl who was probably quite pretty and would definitely have been so had it not been for the greasy unruly hair, as ginger as Bess' own, the shredded clothes and the dirty, battered and bruised body.

Ignoring Ronnie she scrutinised Bess heavily, and a single tear rolled down her cheek.

"Bess..?" she said, her lower lip quivering. "Bessie, is that... is that, you?"

"Ed," said Ronnie quietly into the intercom. "We got the girl. Come down on me an' we'll make like the prettiest trees on Vatican."

"Right you are, Cap'n," was Ed's reply. "Gonna' be leavin' a fair few unconscious guards who'll gonna' be more than a little pissed when they come too."

"That's a concern for tomorrow," Ronnie replied. "But right now, I don't fancy hangin' 'round here much longer."

"Thank you, Cap'n," Bess said with a wink, turning to Ronnie as she and her sister embraced. "I owe you everything."

"How 'bout we see if we survive the week?" said Ronnie. "We can talk 'bout who owes what later."

The HMS Hemlock Stone

The _HMS Hemlock Stone_ , a relatively small and insignificant part of the Fleet, especially when one considers the enormity of the _HMS Westminster_ and the _HMS Solent_ , the latter being the flagship of the Royal Navy, occupied a geosynchronous orbit directly above The Great Red Spot of Jupiter whilst her crew who were, quite frankly, far from being the most elite of sailors, stood guard over the many mining colonies littered about the Jovian system.

It was a noble and worthy assignment. Of course it was. The water and minerals taken from those moons meant the human race remained hydrated and that new homes could be built, planetside.

It was, however, somewhat lacking in excitement, a topic that was raised at every given opportunity aboard the vessel by everyone from the XO to Arnie, the chap who scrubbed the shit out of the toilet bowls.

As luck would have it, because sometimes timing really is simply _that_ perfect, such a conversation was taking place in the Officer's Mess at that very moment.

"Look, Dave... I mean I'm not trying to be a prick or anything, but I didn't enlist to babysit a group of kids playing with their fucking Meccano sets."

Dave looked up from the newspaper, a three-week old copy of The Sun, and shrugged.

"I know that, Barry," he replied, slowly. He regularly had the Michael extracted due to the fact he liked reading the paper, rather than finding out about goings on in the System on the Wire like everyone else and the rest of the crew took great pleasure in giving him half-stories, knowing full well that he would not discover the truth until three weeks after the event when the post arrived. "Thing is, just like the rest of us you didn't get higher than a D in your astrophysics GCSE, so it's tough shit."

"Just want some fucking excitement Dave, y'know? A bit of fucking action!"

"You and every other lost fucking soul on this bucket of bolts, Barry, but..."

Dave was cut short when over the tannoy, a throat was cleared, followed by the voice of a man who really did not sound very sure of himself in the slightest.

"Erm..." A pause, during which that same throat was cleared rather vigorously. "Erm... Ladies and gentlemen. I am afraid to say that we have just been, erm, reassigned, and must rendezvous with the, erm, rest of the Fleet at, erm, Mars. Erm... Thank you."

That announcement was followed by one of far greater confidence and wherewithal, from the _HMS Hemlock Stone_ 's Executive Officer, Mark Watt.

"Buckle up, folks. We're going full burn and you all know what happens to this poor excuse for a space worthy vessel when she pulls more than a few G's so hold on tight, and pray that the sweet scent of a ripe and ready punani is gonna' permeate your nostrils at least one more time before you feel the cold embrace of the vacuum just on the other side of the twelve inch wall beside your heads."

"XO seems in good form," said Barry, chuckling. "Well you heard him, Dave. We'd better get strapped in."

"Yeah," he sighed, dropping the newspaper to the low coffee table. He had just made it to the sport section, too.

The two men headed for the wall, facing the exterior wall and placed their backs to the cold steel before each reaching up and pulling down the individual mesh casing that would hold them steady. They were joined by three other individuals, a man and two women, who were also permitted access to the Officer's Mess, and soon all five were tucked in tight.

Whilst the mesh would keep them still and prevent injury as a result of being thrown around the room as the _HMS Hemlock Stone_ touched speeds at which she really was not capable of travelling, it would not prevent the bubbly tummy from which at least one of them was all but guaranteed to suffer.

That was just the way things were. When aboard a vessel pulling a lot of G's, one in five people wretched their guts up. It was an unavoidable side-effect of high speed space travel.

***

Four hours later the _HMS Hemlock Stone_ began to slow as she approached the Red Planet and as she did so, the mesh harnesses holding her crew in place released and a handful of said crew made their way hastily to the nearest bathroom.

"Smoke?" Barry asked, proffering the open packet in Dave's direction.

"Definitely," the man replied, and having lit their cigarettes they made their way towards the viewing gallery, an area cordoned by plexiglass directly behind the bridge which allowed personnel who were perhaps not essential at a given moment to keep up to speed with events, just in case they suddenly became essential.

"Jesus Christ, Dave," said Barry as he glanced at the viewing gallery's large monitor. "We've got the Yanks here, too, and the bloody Koreans!"

"Must be pretty serious then, whatever it is," Dave replied with an almost nonchalant shrug. "We're still a few clicks out so we're not gonna'..."

"There's something else there, coming out of the Dead Zone," Barry continued. "A ship... Jesus Christ that's fucking enormous..."

The Dead Zone was the unofficial term for Mars and the space immediately surrounding it. Due to the fact the planet was used as a dumping ground for radioactive core cells back in the early days of space exploration it was completely and totally uninhabited.

"We need to pull back." Dave activated his comm and spoke as quickly and clearly as he could. "XO, something isn't right here. I don't know whose that bigass ship is but they've got almost the entire Earth Fleet in the same place."

"If we pull back then we're disobeying a direct order from Fleet Command," Mark replied, though there was most definitely a hint of dubiousness about his response.

"Fuck Fleet Command. If we don't pull back, we're gonna'... _shit_!"

But as almost the entire Earth Fleet exploded thanks to what was probably some kind of advanced thermonuclear superbomb, something incredibly odd happened.

The deathwave that was making its way towards the _HMS Hemlock Stone_ , tearing through the rest of the Fleet as it did so, stopped, and so did the dozens upon dozens of explosions that were in the midst of taking place.

Even more bizarre, perhaps, was that everyone on board the _HMS Hemlock Stone_ , at the very same instant as the superbomb deathwave ceased all motion and those explosions paused, as if someone had hit such a button on a remote control because they really, really needed to urinate and simply could not wait any longer, died.

Well, everyone except...

"What the spaceshit is going on, XO?" Dave demanded, though he was not entirely sure what kind of an answer he was expecting Mark to proffer.

"Atmospherics are all within normal levels," said Barry, glancing at the screen to his left. "We should join the XO on the bridge, try and work a few things out."

And so they did just that. With everyone else on board the vessel dead, the only signs of life, had anyone attempted to take a reading from the outside, were to be found upon the bridge.

"It looks like some kind of, I dunno," Mark said, quietly, as the three of them surveyed the scenes outside the vessel by way of several live video feeds. "I wanna' say time dilation but that's not possible..."

"I reckon we've gotta' be open to the distinct possibility that at this very moment, XO, every-damn-thing is possible."

"Dave's right," said Barry, nodding. "I don't think it's time dilation though. At least, I don't think it's _just_ time dilation..."

"Why d'you say that, Barry?" Dave asked.

"Because, and I know I only managed to pull an E-plus in astrophysics, but I'm pretty sure it takes several millennia for stars to move - or, y'know, appear to move."

"Yeah, so?" asked the XO.

"OK so taking all of that into consideration, how likely is it that within the course of a few seconds, the stars could align themselves into such a formation that spells out, 'the devil made me do it,' all in lowercase..?"

"I've never seen anything like that before," the XO muttered.

"Pretty sure no one's seen anything like that before, XO," said Dave who, just like his companions, was quite unable to tear his eyes away from the sight.

"How well do you guys know the history of the Hemlock Stone?"

"Started life as a troop transport, XO," said Barry, recalling information given whilst touring the vessel for the first time. "'Course, that was before the refurb..."

"No, not the _HMS Hemlock Stone_ ," said Mark, shaking his head slowly though his eyes had not adjusted at all. "The Hemlock Stone, the monolith from which this vessel takes its moniker."

"Other than it being a monolith, which apparently it is," said Dave, shrugging. "Nothing at all, XO."

And so whilst all three men continued to stare at one or the other of the _HMS Hemlock Stone_ 's many screens, Mark Watt briefly recalled the legend, about the village of Castleton in Derbyshire, and how the Devil lifted the stone out of the earth and threw it a county over, into Nottinghamshire, due to his anger at what were apparently incredibly loud and annoying church bells.

"That's just a bullshit legend, XO," Barry scoffed. "Though I guess it's kinda' nice to know where this old girl takes her name from."

***

And the Devil grinned a toothy grin as he took the _HMS Hemlock Stone_ in hand and with the ease and grace one might expect an entity such as he to exhibit, he threw the vessel into the very core of Mars.

With his great and mighty wings he protected the Earth Fleet, enveloping each and every halfway-exploded vessel from the blast as the nuclear planet went critical and imploded with as much ceremony as such a thing can display, destroying the alien vessel in the process.

And with a wink and a nod and a smile, he saved the Earth Fleet, putting out fires, rebuilding bulkheads and welding hulls with nothing more than a superheated glare.

Never again would there be a vessel named the _HMS Hemlock Stone_. At least, never again, until giving the Devil something to throw was the only way to save mankind. He did it once before, crushing the man-eating slug monster beneath the Hemlock Stone all of those centuries ago and he would do it again when the children of his father faced a threat too great for them to face alone.

As far as the human race was concerned, it was the HMS Hemlock Stone and her crew who had saved their lives and they would forever be remembered for the incredible act of selflessness and bravery that was using their own momentum to destroy Mars and in the process, the alien aggressors.

No one would ever ask how the HMS Hemlock Stone was able to reach a velocity capable of doing such a thing, of course they wouldn't, for that would tarnish the memories and ruin the legend and we couldn't have that, could we?

Everyone Knows That Aliens Don't Exist

"We can take it. That cargo's gotta' be worth at least twenty-thousand credits."

"Taking it ain't the issue but the Fed ship eight clicks out and closing, is."

"But it's so pretty, and unmanned... Well, unless you count the eight dead crew."

"Dead men don't tell tales. They don't fight back, either... OK that _one_ time, but they weren't exactly dead, if I recall."

"You're not seriously considering this, Cap'n? We might as well put up a beacon and let the Fed ship know exactly where we are."

Bennet smirked at his second in command. He knew she was right; Hell, she was always right, but that never stopped him doing anything he knew was completely and totally bloody stupid. Besides, twenty-thousand credits was a whole lotta' cash and he had a crew who hadn't been paid in months, food to put on the table and a ship in dire need of a out-and-out overhaul, or a couple of new parts at any rate.

Thing is, however much she might protest, Eva was well up for anything slightly crazy and he knew it. He'd fought at her side during the Colonisation Wars, after all, and as such he knew damn well that her apparent caution was nought more than a smoke-screen... Eva was the craziest soldier he knew, which is why she was his second in command.

"Do you even have to ask?" he said with the same smirk upon his face, noting the fact that Eva bit her bottom lip as he spoke. He doubted she'd go toe-to-toe with him in front of the rest of the crew, not unless he genuinely deserved such treatment, but that was not to say she didn't want to.

"Take us in, Harvey," he said without turning to the helm.

"Aye Cap'n," the young pilot replied. A fearless eighteen year old kid, he'd follow Bennet to the edge of the Universe and back.

"The ship's yours, Eva," said Bennet with a wink. "Morgan, we'd best suit up... I'll bet my left nut there's no life support on that boat."

"What gives it away?" Morgan asked. "The fact that everyone on board is dead, or the huge gaping hole on the starboard side?"

"A little of both," he replied with a shrug. "Now, let's go."

As he was making his way off the bridge, Eva grabbed Bennet's arm firmly.

"I don't need to say it, do I?"

"Don't worry, Eva," he replied, kindly. "Ain't gonna' let any harm come to your wee bairn of a sister."

"I heard that," Morgan yelled over her shoulder as she made her way down the corridor towards the airlock. "I'm twenty years old, for fuck's sake!"

Eva rolled her eyes, shaking her head as Bennet set off after her younger sister. If she had her way Morgan wouldn't be part of a crew, let alone one that made most of its money from illegal salvage. No, if Eva had any say at all in the matter, her sister would have a nice, respectable job on Earth.

She didn't have any say in it though. Before her death, her mother had made her promise never to let Morgan out of her sight. That meant she'd had to sweet-talk Bennet – not that it was a difficult task; a little cleavage was all it took – into allowing her to join the crew of the _Spartacus_.

She could have remained on Earth herself, of course, but there weren't many ' _respectable_ ,' jobs suitable for women with a penchant for slitting throats and sabotaging the occasional core reactor with a flat head screwdriver, a packet of liquorice allsorts and a bottle of tequila.

" _Spartacus_ is in play," said Harvey with a grin as he flicked the comms switch. "Y'gotta' three foot jump, Cap'n. I'd have got you closer but that bitch is pitched more awkward than a camp site at a rock festival."

"That'll do, Harvey." Bennet's voice came back tinnily over the comm. "What's the status of that Fed ship?"

"Four clicks, Cap'n," Eva replied. "Gives you eight minutes."

"More'n enough," he said with a chuckle. "Bennet out."

The seconds passed in silence as together, Eva and Harvey watched two heat signatures move from one vessel to the other, and set about exploring the vessel.

"So what d'you reckon, Eva? We've got about six minutes..."

"Ain't gonna' happen, Harvey, so cut it out."

"Don't say I didn't offer," the young man replied with a chuckle.

"No offence, Harv, but I reckon I'll forget that you did..."

"Your loss," he muttered, although he was almost certain he did so quietly enough that Eva failed to hear.

"Fed ship's a click and a half out, what's their status?"

"Looks like they're making their way back to the hole. Should be a' knockin' any second."

Sure enough, several seconds later a light on the console indicated the airlock had been activated from the outside.

"As soon as they're in get us outta' here, Harvey," she said, flicking the comm to communicate with the engine room. "Acer... we're gonna' need full burn without the light show. Capisce?"

"Gotcha', Eva," Acer's voice came back, and Eva smiled. There were few in Sol better acquainted with engines than he. Bennet was lucky his mechanic had spent most of his life stoned out of his tree on whatever he could find to smoke, else it's quite likely he would have been fast-tracked through the Federation Academy.

"What the _actual_ fuck?" Bennet demanded as he and Morgan, still fully suited less their helmets, stormed onto the bridge. "When I leave you in command that don't mean you get to ignore my bloody communications!"

"What're you talking about, Bennet?" Eva asked, peering around the man to see that her sister's face wore a similarly annoyed expression. "You didn't make contact."

"She's right," said Harvey, pulling up the _Spartacus'_ communications log on the screen beside him as he guided the vessel single-handedly. "Not a bean, Cap'n."

"Well didn't you think to make contact after, oh I dunno, the eight minutes that we had was up?"

"Still got thirty seconds, Cap'n, according to that time frame."

"Don't talk shit!" Morgan yelled, all thoughts of the precious cargo left by the wayside. "We were on that hell-hole of a ship for almost three hours!"

"Ship time's 1521," said Harvey with a shrug, pointing the Spartacus towards Charon. As the nearest stellar body, it was the logical choice when it came to searching for something to hide behind.

"What the fuck does my watch say, Harvey?" Bennet asked, irritably, as he struggled out of his suit and held his forearm out for the pilot to see.

"1832, clear as day," he replied.

"Some kind of time dilation?" Eva asked, as Bennet slapped his hand to his forehead in a semi-comedic fashion.

"Particle accelerator, for fuck's sake..." he muttered.

"Come again?"

"That ship's powered by a particle accelerator," said Morgan, picking up where the Captain left off because apparently, he was far too busy berating himself for not realising it sooner. "The hole in the hull leads straight to the drive room; the damn thing must've sprung a leak."

"That's not all," said Bennet, pausing as he lit a cigarette. "There's something alive on board."

"Isn't there a huge gaping hole in the hull?" Harvey asked. "I mean, that _is_ how you got on board."

"Something that can survive in pretty extreme conditions then, but something none the less."

"You're sure, Cap'n?"

"Yeah, and so am I," said Morgan. "Couldn't tell you what it is, but I can sure as fuck tell you what it said."

"Well," said Eva after a few seconds worth of silence. "Spit it out!"

"We're going to pay."

***

Alone on board its vessel once more, the entity cast its mind across the vastness of space, beyond the Galactic Void and through the Omega Sector and through the maze of thousands of black holes that made up the minefield protecting its home system.

_Life exists here_ **.** _Intelligent life_ **.**

_Does it pose a threat_ **?**

_It does not_ **.** _Our armies will crush it_ **.**

_Pleasing news_ **.** _Hold station_ **.** _We will send a fleet one million strong to ensure that is the case_ **.**

_As you wish_ **.**

***

High above Earth, the enormous docking station loomed large, glimmering in the light cast by the distant Sun. More chrome than anything else, it was tantamount to blinding without a protective coating over the reinforced plexiglass windows of the _Spartacus_.

"Gotta' be honest, I didn't think I'd be back here again before my hanging," said Bennet, quietly.

"You're sure this is the right call, Cap'n?" Eva asked.

"I'm sure... They're coming to Earth, an' it might be a shithole but it's our bloody shithole."

"And besides, once they've destroyed Earth they'll take out the rest of Sol, too," said Morgan, grimly. "It's not the planet itself they want to wipe out; it's humanity."

"We're gonna' have to go in on the offensive," said Eva. "We're all wanted fugitives... If we're not careful we'll wind up locked up before we've had chance to raise the alarm."

"Or how about this..?" Acer mumbled, and paused for an inordinate amount of time his eyes glazed, before he spoke again. "Jus' send 'em a message..."

"Works in theory," replied Bennet. "If we could breach their firewall, that is."

"Then... Use one of their systems..." From behind his ear, Acer produced a shoddily rolled joint. Placing it between his lips he put a light to it before he continued. "How many abandoned Fed facilities are down there?"

"Hundreds," said Bennet as it dawned upon him what the stoner was getting at. "Harvey, there's an old relay station just north of Fairbanks – or what used to be Fairbanks. An old crew of mine used to use it as a storage facility and safe house. Well off the radar, reckon you can get us there undetected?"

"Shouldn't be too much hassle," the young pilot replied. "Morgan, you wanna' sit up here with me?"

"Like fuck," she replied with a chuckle. "'Fraid you're gonna' have to get your jollies later on, Harv."

***

Harvey set the _Spartacus_ down in the midst of a thick forest. All around, trees grew to astronomical heights, an effect of the residual radiation present on Earth everywhere apart from the shielded cities.

"Weapons hot," said Bennet as he, Eva and Morgan alighted the vessel leaving Harvey and Acer on board so that should the need arise, the Spartacus could take off at less than a moment's notice.

"Twelve minutes before y'all start feeling the effects," said Harvey, his tones tinny and distant over their comms devices. "I'm picking up Growler signatures in the area, too."

"Growlers?" said Eva, curling her lip as she spoke. "Lovely."

Finding cover was not an issue, if they needed it there was plenty, however the Growlers had long ago developed ridiculously powerful senses of taste and smell. It was said that they could taste you on the air whilst you were still in orbit. They were the twisted, mutated remnants of those unlucky enough to have been forced to stay on Earth after the Fall.

They made it through the overgrown trees and shrubs without incident, Bennet leading the way towards a roller door to the right of the concrete building.

"They don't make shit like this any more," he muttered quietly, as he and Eva set about raising the door. The mechanism itself was ages old and beyond repair, but that did not mean access was impossible, just tricky.

"Ready, Morgan?" her elder sister asked. "I can hear shit inside so don't hesitate. If they were anything but human they'd have called out by now."

From within three creatures charged, their teeth barred as they growled incoherently.

"You can't help but feel sorry for the poor bastards," said Bennet as he opened fire with his semi-automatic machine pistol. "All 'cos their ancestors couldn't scrape together enough credits to get off this damned rock."

"I'd say we caught them during nap-time," said Eva as they picked their way around the Growler corpses. "Either that or they'd just fed. That's the only time I've ever known a Growler go down so easy."

"I reckon you're right," Bennet replied, nodding towards a wall completely full of rather out of date computer equipment. Despite the dark dankness of the room, it gleamed brilliantly in whatever light there was available. "You're up, Morgan."

She cracked her knuckles as she pulled a rickety wooden chair to the centre of the console. The computer system was not running, of course, however a swift and powerful kick to the outer casing appeared to do the trick and within seconds, the ancient tech was in the process of whirring itself into life.

"As soon as you make any attempt to access the server, the Feds are gonna' be all over us like space pirates over an antique haul."

"Don't think I'm stupid, do you Bennet?" she asked without turning. "Trust me, they're not even gonna' know we're..."

"Guys, I've got Fed activity," Harvey said over the comm. "Coming straight outta' Anchorage and heading our way pretty damn quick."

"How long, Harv?" asked Eva, standing guard at the open door, her blaster primed and ready.

"Under a minute," the pilot replied. "Listen, you guys have to get outta' there now, we need to make like trees and leave."

"Buy us some time!"

"No offence, Cap'n, but you know we can't do that. The _Spartacus_ won't interface with Fed tech, and you can bet your arse that outgunned will soon prove to be the mother of all bloody understatements."

"They're here!" Eva yelled over the already incredibly loud fusion-propelled engines. "Ten seconds they're gonna' be on us!"

"Go, Harvey! Give it twenty-four hours and if we ain't dead you can pick us up!"

"You know he's gonna' engage the Feds, right?" Eva asked, turning to Bennet as outside, the _Spartacus_ headed straight for the enemy.

"Ain't gonna' matter, he wouldn't have survived anyway, and nor will we," he replied, grimly.

"Whatever happens," Morgan began, her fingers moving deftly over the keys. "Whatever happens, you gotta' hold them off long enough for me to upload what I need to upload."

She smiled at her elder sister, plugged herself into the console by way of a connection port behind her right ear – a modification everyone had assuming they attended a top class institute of further education – and promptly blacked out as the sedatives took hold of her. They were necessary, as plugging in was an extremely painful process indeed.

"So, Cap'n," Eva said with a grin as the two of them stood beneath the raised roller door, both with their weapons ready. "We're agreed these bastards are gonna' kill us either way, yes?"

"Aye, no doubt about that."

"So what d'you reckon will give Morgan the longest time to do what she's gotta' do?"

"I don't think it's gonna' matter," he replied, nodding skywards. There were five enormous Fed cruisers hovering, all with their weapons trained upon the building and the two individuals stood before it. "Besides, it don't look to me like they're here to talk..."

"We should probably try and warn them though, don't you think?" asked Eva. "I mean, just in case Morgan doesn't manage to get her message through."

"Morgan will get through, in fact I wager she'll outlive you and I..." he paused upon hearing an inordinately loud explosion that sounded very much like the core drive of the Spartacus being destroyed. He had nothing on which to base that, of course, but the pain that suddenly arrived in his gut told him he was correct. "...and my damn ship! Fuck!"

In anger, Bennet raised his weapon to the sky. That act alone proved to be a rather fatal error as all five cruisers fired simultaneously, and completely lay waste to the building, those within, and the surrounding forest.

Four of the vessels turned on their heels and left as the remaining cruiser set down. A ramp lowered from the ship's belly and out walked two, heavily armoured individuals. Their battle armour was made entirely of chrome and clear, gleaming plexiglass. The visors of their helmets raised to reveal clean-shaven, almost youthful features.

"Report, Sir. Apparently a message was just received from this location, something about an alien fleet being on its way to destroy Sol."

"Is that right?" the General asked, chuckling heartily as at the dark side of the Moon, the alien fleet gathered. "Bloody idiots... Everyone knows there's no such thing as aliens!"

Hybrid Honey

Reaching out tentatively with a single, misshapen and grubby digit, she gently prodded the object that had fallen from the sky. It was cold to her touch and she recoiled instantly, crouching to the ground several feet away with her fists balled ready to run or to fight, whichever she deemed necessary.

For several moments she waited, her breaths almost silent as she watched, waiting for the object to make some kind of move, to show its true colours and attack her and when it did no such thing she scampered over to it and studied it once again.

When she touched it for the second time with the tip of the same finger she did not recoil. It did not appear to be any threat to her and she stroked it gently.

Still there was no reaction of any kind from the object and so, confident that it was going to do her no harm, she wrapped her fingers around it and picked it up. It was surprisingly heavy and unbalanced yet her strong fingers held it tightly. She turned it over and over in her hand, cocking her head this way and that as she did so until she realised that a small part of it was different. The vast majority of the object's surface was dull and boring yet a small section was quite the opposite; it was shiny and reflected back at her more colour than she had ever seen.

The object emitted a strange noise, unfamiliar to her primitive ears. She tried to release the item, to drop it, yet she found that even though that should have been a simple enough task, it was quite impossible for her to do so.

Panicked, she realised that her fingers were gripping even more tightly. Every single fibre of her being told her to run, to get away from the object as quickly as possible, yet her feet were firmly rooted to the ground.

A light, more focused than the colours that the object had until that point shown her, shone directly into her eyes. Her ocular organs wide with terror she released an incoherent wail as she saw unfamiliar images in her mind and her ears filled with strange, unusual sounds.

She lost all concept of time and had no idea for how long the light shone into her eyes, however when the object fell free from her grasp she staggered forwards, the weight of her own body temporarily too much for her to take.

"That was..." She stopped mid-flow, shocked by the sound of her own voice making noises that it had never made before. "Whoa... head fuck..."

...and then she fell heavily forwards, her body hitting the ground with a dull thud and there she lay, unconscious.

***

She awoke and without even opening her eyes she could tell that she was somewhere different. It was the smell, unlike anything she had ever experienced. She could hear words, too. More to the point, she could hear words that she understood quite clearly.

"She's awake."

"You sure?"

"Yes... look at the screen. That's not the readout of one who's still sleeping."

"It seems our girl learns quickly."

"She's not _our_ girl though is she, Banks?"

"She's what we've got to work with, Sir."

"If you had been more careful with the time capsule then it would have done as it was supposed to and buried itself half a mile below the surface of the planet to be discovered sometime around two-thousand five which, as both you and I are well aware, would have been ample enough time."

"I wasn't entirely my fault, Sir."

"You were in charge of the operation, Banks. The buck stops with you."

"Yes Sir..."

"And now, we're left with a... a... primitive female with the knowledge of the entire of human history floating around inside her head. That is not the way this was supposed to go, Banks."

"No Sir..."

"Terminate the subject and try again, Banks."

"Yes Sir."

"And Banks."

"Sir?"

"Don't even think about fucking it up for a second time."

The voices ceased and she waited until she could hear only one person breathing within the room. Her senses told her that it was only Banks who remained, and that he was approaching her whilst holding something in his hand.

She did not move a muscle until he was directly beside her and the next thing she knew she was on her feet behind him, holding a needle to his throat. Banks was scared, she could tell. He was sweating profusely and his heart was beating so loud that she could hear it.

"Where am I?" she whispered, ignoring the fact that her own voice sounded strange to her or at least, the sounds it was making did. "Answer me before I inject whatever the fuck this is into your jugular."

"Y... You're in a secure Government facility," Banks stammered in reply, trying his best not to gulp lest he do himself a mischief without the girl moving another inch. "It's twenty-two twenty-nine and you've absorbed everything we know up until this point."

"Why me?"

"It wasn't supposed to be you; it was supposed to be the entire human race. The Time Capsule contained everything, including how to prevent the planet falling into the state it's currently in. But one person shouldn't be able to hold all of that information. It was supposed to be shared amongst the entire human race. It doesn't make sense."

"What state is the planet in?" She was asking questions that she had no business knowing the answers to, not really. The most exciting thing she was supposed to do all day was collect berries and maybe submit to her mate, but now... "Tell me!"

"The usual!" Banks yelled in reply, calming instantly when he realised that probably wasn't the best course of action. "Earth is in a whole mess of trouble, ever since they arrived."

"And who, pray tell, are they?"

****

It took her a while to sort through the information contained within her mind but with Banks' help and guidance she slowly but surely, over the course of several weeks, learned how to access a given piece of information at any given time.

All the time he was helping her, Banks was under pressure from his bosses to renew the project. As he had been ordered to terminate the girl and start afresh it was not a viable option for her to remain in his laboratories and so with that in mind he'd taken her home. It's not as though he had family to worry about, as the Government discouraged such a thing due to overpopulation.

It was almost three months later when Banks realised that there was no longer any need to teach her. She possessed every piece of knowledge ever collated but that, Banks knew, was not the most remarkable thing about her.

Her genetic make-up was different to his, different to anyone else, for she was not human. From her appearance one probably would not be able to notice for other than the fact her eyes were well above average size and of an incredibly bright blue, she was as human as anyone when in truth, she was a Neanderthal/Homo-Sapien hybrid.

She looked, Banks thought, like she belonged in an animated Japanese show.

"I don't understand these word and phrases... So many numbers."

"You possess the knowledge," he said.

"Knowledge is not understanding," she replied, by now quite comfortable with the words that came out of her mouth. "But what I do know, what I do understand, is that your Time Capsule project has an end game and even though it didn't run as smoothly as you might have hoped, that end game must be played out. They must be destroyed."

"I agree," said Banks. "However, the knowledge you absorbed was intended to create a different set of circumstances in the hope that they would be deterred, that they would look upon this world, the human race, without thinking of us as weak-willed pushovers."

"But they are here," she said, calmly. "They are here and I can destroy them."

***

" _Honey_!" She glanced around upon hearing her name. It was actually her name, of course, but it was the moniker she had been designated. She didn't mind it at all, either, in fact she thought it was a rather nice name. More to the point, it was a name that held great meaning and responsibility. There had been many ' _Honeys_ ,' before her, and she knew there would be many more that came after she met her end.

Most were born into it and succumbed to their birthright, normally, between the ages of seventeen and twenty-nine.

Honey was older than that; in fact although she did not look a day over twenty-one she was actually closer to forty years old. Banks had speculated, over and over again, that her youthful appearance might have had something to do with the fact she was a hybrid, a congruence of two similar yet distinctly different species.

" _Duck_!"

Honey did exactly that and just in time, too, for the red laser zipped over her head and instantly burned a hole into the wall behind her.

She glanced up and nodded a thank you to Ingrid, before her she pushed off with her incredibly powerful legs, massive amounts of adrenaline flowing through her body as she descended upon the mechanical menace.

Ingrid was what Banks called one of the second generation. She, amongst others, had adopted a relatively sizeable proportion of the information contained within the second Time Capsule when it had been unearthed, as was the original intent, in two-thousand five.

Honey reached out and grabbed the robot's head, twisting it around and off as her momentum carried her over the alien invader. She landed on her feet and spun around instantly, as the now-headless robot staggered towards her. With a shrug she released the head and when it was but inches from the ground she punted it with such force that it created an enormous hole in the machine's torso, a hole amass with sparking wires and cables.

She had missed the motherboard by a mere fraction of an inch and as such, the mechanoid was still advancing. Not for long though for Ingrid leapt and caught the still-rising metal head, turned a somersault in mid-air and flung it, making an even larger hole that did, this time, destroy the motherboard.

Honey caught the head and with a chuckle, said, "nice shot."

"Thank you," Ingrid replied, her accent one with a thick Norwegian twang.

She and Honey glanced at the ground around them, littered as it was with dozens of mechanical corpses, all of whom had proved incapable of defeating the two defenders of Earth they had been tasked to kill.

"You think there are more on the way?"

"I imagine so," Honey replied. "But I suspect you and I are in the clear for now. Next time though, you can bet there'll be hundreds perhaps thousands of them, just for us."

"Well..." Ingrid chuckled. "I suppose that's fair, I mean they have to give themselves a fighting chance, after all."

"Exactly," Honey replied as the two women high-fived. Their celebrations were cut short, however, as their communications devices sounded in unison, causing both to immediately place their index finger to their respective right ears.

Moments later, once the transmission had been cut, they shared a glance that said everything it needed to say.

_These bastards are gonna' pay_.

***

_"...and in breaking news, the Evil Robots have obliterated major cities on every continent. Despite the Defenders of Earth scoring minor victories across the globe, it seems that our mechanical aggressors are far from finished in our corner of the Galaxy. Firing projectiles from orbit, their starships lay waste to Washington, New York, London, Munich, Beijing, Perth, Tokyo, Wellington and Cairo to name but a few._

_"If there was ever any doubt about the fact that the human race is at war, that doubt has now passed."_

***

Honey turned and glared at Banks, a look that definitely sent shivers down the man's spine. She felt Ingrid's hand as her friend gently gripped her forearm.

"Get Ingrid and I onto that fucking mothership, Banks," she said, her voice unintentionally dripping with menace. "We can end this war, but not from down here."

"There's no way to get up there," said Banks, shrugging helplessly. "Any of our objects in orbit are blown out of the sky when they get to close whether they pose a threat or not, and it's not as though we have a fleet of battleships on hand."

"But we could have," Ingrid said, quietly. "You've already proven you can travel through time, I mean look at Honey; look at me, and everyone else you brought forth from two-thousand five."

"This is a fixed point in time," Banks explained. "Until this point has passed, to travel further down this time-line is impossible. This event, this invasion... Hell, this bloody war _has_ to run its course."

***

It had taken a great deal of effort and more than a few dealings with numerous demonic entities but as Honey and Ingrid rolled out the other side of the portal that had opened up on to one of the mothership's engineering levels, they instantly knew that those deals had been worth whatever price Banks had paid.

Demons were of Earth, or at least they shared residence between there and whatever Hell dimension in which they spawned, and therefore had as much stake in the planet as their human counterparts.

Of course, being demons... Shit don't come for nought...

Ingrid grasped the package tightly. It was a nuclear device with a yield of epic proportions. The Defenders of Earth had discovered a few months prior that if the link between an Evil Robot and the mothership was terminated then said invader lost all power and entered a shut down mode of sorts. Therefore, it was reasonable to assume that destroying the mothership would, in fact, cause the Evil Robots on Earth and those in orbit, to do the same.

"This way," said Honey, leading the way along the engineering level. On all sides they were surrounded by vast, sprawling engines that hissed and fizzed as coolants ran along pipes and cables, keeping the necessary equilibrium that enabled the mothership to remain in orbit without overheating. "Follow the pipes; the source of that coolant has to be around here somewhere."

"Think we're going to get this done without being discovered?"

"I doubt it," Honey replied, looking ahead as she heard the unmistakable sound of heavy metallic footfalls upon a metallic floor. "Get the job done; I'll deal with these Evil Robot bastards."

"But..."

"Go, Ingrid. The most important thing is that we cut the link from the mothership and blowing the coolant is the way we're gonna' do it. I'll buy you as much time as I can."

Ingrid reluctantly scampered past Honey and followed the pipes around to the right.

"Over here you robot fucks!" Honey yelled with as much volume as she could, hoping – and succeeding – to distract the aforementioned Evil Robots from the fact that Ingrid was heading away from them. "Well, shit... Y'all are a whole lot better armoured than those metal fuckers on Earth..."

Added to the fact that there were at least twenty of them, the thought crept into Honey's mind that perhaps she had bitten off more than she could chew. That thought did not remain for long though, and within seconds she was running full pelt towards the steadily advancing squad of Evil Robots.

She shouldered several out of the way, scattering them to the side as she aimed for the robot she had targeted. Realising that she was heading straight for it, the Evil Robot lifted its arm to reveal that it already had its primary weapon primed. Honey was far too fast for it though, and before it had chance to fire any kind of projectile from the raised portion of its forearm she was upon it, contorting her body in many an inconceivable way as she wrapped her limbs around the metal man. Once it was successfully subdued Honey wrenched its arm free from its housing, dropped to the floor, and proceeded to use said limb to beat the Evil Robot into something not too dissimilar to scrap metal.

One down, Honey turned and threw the arm with great precision, impaling not one but two Evil Robots with it, and both sagged to the floor.

At her back coolant hissed, reminding her of Ingrid's quest. Such reminiscence proved to be a distraction though, for Honey did not manage to get entirely out of the way as an Evil Robot riddled the air with bullets.

Honey took five, thankfully all to her left arm and all through and through.

"You're gonna' pay for that you metallic piece of shiaaaaargh..!"

Again, Honey was not fast enough, and a laser pierced her shin, tearing bone and muscle as it sought an exit. She dropped to the floor in a considerable amount of pain, the hole in her leg at least two inches in diameter.

Sucking it up, Honey struggled to stand, her good leg having to support the majority of her weight.

" _Ingrid_ , _hurry_!" Honey yelled as she lunged forwards on her uninjured leg, grasping the arm of the nearest Evil Robot as she did so. Despite her injury she still possessed considerable strength and skill, and as such she was able to wrench the arm around whilst at the same time she used the robot as a pivot, easily lifting herself so that her legs wrapped around its neck.

Pain seared through every inch of her body as she swung, using the robot's momentum to get into position and then its weapon to destroy its fellows before, and with no small amount of effort, she was able to force the machine to turn its weapon upon itself.

She dropped to the floor, breathless. With a glance at her wound she was pleased to see that it was not bleeding, the laser clearly having cauterised it as it went through.

Footsteps, lighter than those belonging to the Evil Robots, reached Honey's ears and moments later, Ingrid crouched beside her.

"Your leg!" she exclaimed.

"Is it done?"

"Your leg, how did you..?"

"Is it done, Ingrid? Did you plant the device?"

"Yes, it's done. We've got about..."

"Don't tell me, I don't want to know how long I haven't got left," said Honey, smiling weakly. "But we did it, Ingrid. We saved the fucking planet."

Staring deeply into Honey's enormous, brilliant blue eyes, Ingrid returned that smile.

"Yes, Honey," she replied, exhaling deeply as elsewhere on the engineering level, the timer ran its course. "We..."

August 13th

Through the bleak, seemingly never-ending void, the _Caracas_ pushed on, cutting a swathe through space as with every passing second she neared her destination, a planet several thousand lightyears from Earth that would, all being well, serve as a new home and new beginning for those million or so individuals who were making the trip.

The vessel's corridors were empty, completely devoid of life. In fact it was only the fact that the emergency lighting illuminated the main walkways and service areas in its off-yellow hue that alluded to there being any life on board at all.

As the _Caracas'_ clock ticked over to August 13th though, all of that changed.

Rather than exhibiting the empty barrenness they had moments before, the corridors were ablaze with colour, the magnificently bright lights showing more bunting than was decent in all of its glory.

Trestle tables lined the corridors, individually decorated and piled high with platters of delicious looking food and the most tantalisingly tempting beverages.

Over the vessel's sound system some big-band music began to play, diving straight into an old swing number and as it did so, people appeared.

Within moments the party was in full swing and the corridors were filled with jovial voices and excitable laughter as the drink flowed freely.

***

"What does the navigation computer have to say?"

"We're still on course, though it'll still be at least twenty thousand years before we reach our destination."

"I just hope that by the time we arrive, our destination is still there."

"It will be." The man smiled, confidently, and rightly so. He had calculated the journey himself, back on Earth almost seventeen million years prior. "As we speak, Alpha One is in the midst of a geological era similar to our Neolithic period. The planet currently supports more species of flora and fauna than any of us ever saw back on Earth, and quite possibly more than have ever existed on our home world."

"You seem so sure, Andrew..."

"It's my job to be sure, Ursula," Andrew replied, smiling as he reached out with his fingers towards his wife's cheek. "The only reason you and I, along with our children, are on this ship, is because I was able to prove beyond every measureable doubt that Alpha One is capable of sustaining our species and eventually, enabling the human race to flourish and live beyond the projections of the twenty-third century."

***

23.57

The day was almost at an end. For almost the seventeen millionth occasion, Evacuation Day was drawing to a close.

Evacuation Day. August 13th, 2280. The day one million people boarded the _Caracas_.

Evacuation Day. August 13th, 2280. The day that every member of the human race, other than those on board the _Caracas_ , died.

Evacuation Day. August 13th, 2280. The day that one million people would never forget, and would ensure their descendants always commemorated.

22.59

"It's almost time, my love." Ursula smiled, weakly. This was the part she hated, counting the seconds down to midnight, whereupon it would be an entire year before she saw the look upon her husband's face once again.

"Don't worry, Ursula," Andrew replied, a tear in his eye. "These coming years will fly by, and we'll be setting foot on Alpha One before you know it.

00.00

And everybody disappeared, as did the bunting and the trestle tables. All evidence that the _Caracas_ was inhabited vanished, once again leaving only the off-yellow emergency lighting in key areas of the ship.

In twelve months time on August 13th, the ship's computer would once again instigate the Evacuation Day protocol and whilst those million people slept, frozen in Hibernation Sleep for the duration of the incredibly long journey, holographic representations would celebrate on their behalf, their memories stored on the _Caracas'_ hard drive, ready to download upon the vessel's arrival at Alpha One.

Evacuation Day. August 13th, 2280. The day the human race saved itself.

Pearl of the Stars: Kronos

"Smoke 'em if you got 'em, boys," the Chief said, his expression somewhat tempered by the fact that despite the fact the mission should have been routine, one _fickling_ fool of a pilot had managed to get too close to the surface of the moon's ocean and had to ditch his plane when it got caught in a particularly nasty updraft.

"Carter, with me. Cap'n wants to see you."

"Aye, Chief." Carter snapped off a smart salute before tossing her mask and breathing apparatus to one of the Chief's many subordinates. As she followed her Commanding Officer she pulled the zipper of her flight suit to a point slightly above her midriff, exposing the fact that she wore nought but underwear beneath it to anyone who cared to look.

Carter didn't care though, not in the slightest. She would rather let the entire crew of three hundred ogle her rather than continue sweating as profusely as the suit encouraged.

"What happened down there, Carter?" the Chief asked as the two strode along the centre of the corridor. "Ulsan reported an updraft but there wasn't anything like that showing on the scans."

"Couldn't tell you, Chief," she replied, lighting a cigarette with a match struck upon a bulkhead. "First I knew about it was his request to ditch. Ulsan's a handy pilot and I know damn well he wouldn't have requested such a thing if he had any other choice."

"Hmph."

"We all know the situation here, Chief. We're at the arse end of fick knows where without so much as a map or a fickling compass." She paused to draw upon the cigarette before continuing. "Look, I'll have a chat with Ulsan later and if it turns out he's been a stupid motherfickler then I'll beat the piss out of him. How's that?"

"It's good enough for me, Carter," the Chief replied, chuckling lightly. "Just means me an' my boys gotta' work 'round the clock to get one of the salvaged planes repaired before the next time you take 'em out."

"Ain't like you to bitch, Chief." They both chuckled at that comment but such frivolity quickly ceased due to their arrival upon the bridge.

" _Officer on deck_!" a watch-stander called out, and those on the bridge who weren't of officer rank themselves stood to immediate attention.

"At ease," the Captain, a woman in her mid-forties with thick black greasy hair pulled back into a tight, high pony-tail, ordered. "Thank you, Chief. That will be all."

"Yes, Ma'am," he replied, flicking a lazy salute before he turned and left the bridge.

"Captain Carter."

"Ma'am," she replied with a nod. "You wanted to see me?"

"Yes," the Captain replied. "I need you to have a look at something. Normally I would discuss this via conference with the Fleet's other Captains but, as you are well aware, there is no Fleet; at least, if there is a Fleet, they are not here. The _Kronos_ is, for the time being, alone."

"Once we make it back to the Ryban System, Ma'am, we'll know how much, if any, of the Fleet survived."

"Aye, indeed," the Captain replied with a half-smile. "The issue with that is that everyone who knows even a little about interstellar navigation claims we are at the very least three hundred and seven light years from the Ryban Star System."

She glanced at Captain Carter, instantly recognising the knowing look upon her face.

"You know far more than you let on, Captain," the _Kronos'_ Captain said, quietly. "Without question, you know more than your rank would suggest."

Fleet regulations split a crew into three distinct sections and disciplines; the Officers, the pilots and the marines. An officer with the rank of Captain was of higher rank than a pilot Captain, who in turn held seniority over a marine Captain. It was a system that had been in place for centuries and was not likely to change any time soon, despite the confusion it might, and quite often did, cause.

"I studied the officer path at the Academy on Victoria III, Ma'am."

"Then why become a pilot?" the Captain asked, her eyebrow raised.

"I like to fly, Captain Tifosi," she replied with a wry smile. "I like to fly and with all due respect, I like to blow shit up."

"Well, how can I argue with that?" Captain Tifosi chuckled.

"Indeed, Ma'am," Carter replied, inclining her head toward the large screen beside Captain Tifosi. "What was it you wanted to show me, Ma'am?"

"Pull up the display, Lieutenant."

"Aye Ma'am," the addressed Lieutenant responded both quickly and diligently. "Pulling up the display."

As the man spoke the relatively tiny console in the bridge's centre began to spin, slowly at first although with an even acceleration. When it reached its peak it stopped with a smooth suddenness and cast from it a three-dimensional image of the star system the _Kronos_ was currently in the process of traversing.

"Tell me what you see, Captain Carter."

"Aye Ma'am," Carter replied, taking a few seconds for her eyes to familiarise themselves with the image.

"The Star System designated Yaris, Ma'am," she said, approaching the image until she was actually within it. "This is the highly unstable Blue Giant that currently lies eight-point-one-one degrees starboard, an inclination of three sixteenths to our current position, here."

Captain Carter gestured toward the _Kronos_ , shown on the display as nothing more than a tiny, seemingly insignificant dot travelling incredibly slowly.

In truth, the _Kronos_ was traversing the Yaris Star System at a velocity of point-two light. She could easily have gone more quickly but fuel cells, especially without an MRV or Mobile Repair Vehicle on hand to produce more, were at a premium.

"The three worlds orbiting the far side of the star are useless to us as all are doing so inhospitably closely. The single world on this side, currently eight-point-seven degrees starboard and at this moment on a level plane is equally as inhospitable; only the fact that it is tidally locked, as is its single satellite, permits the formation of liquid upon the dark side of that moon."

"Very good, Captain," Tifosi replied with a nod. "Now, further out."

"A few long period comets, one or two of which I'm told _might_ house materials we require, but that is a big might, Ma'am, and it's definitely not worth our fuel cells to find out whether that might is actually fact."

Carter paused, lighting a cigarette as she considered the remainder of the star system, ensuring that she had not missed anything. Once satisfied, she continued.

"And then just the two jump points, Ma'am," she said, shrugging. "The one we came in on and the one we're using to get out of here."

"Which brings me to..." the Captain paused, nodding to the same Lieutenant who dipped his head to what was obviously some prearranged task."...this."

As Captain Tifosi spoke the three-dimensional image altered, covering a larger area of space. The Yaris Star System was still there, although it was no longer alone; it had eight companion systems.

"As soon as we arrived in this system I ordered a probe be sent through our exit jump point, Captain," Tifosi explained. "I needed to know exactly what is waiting for us on the other side."

"Well, it's definitely an inhabited system with what looks like three separate defence squadrons... Are they Seek and Destroys?"

"That's our best guess, Captain Carter, yes."

Carter let out a low whistle as she delved into the display. The seven accompanying star systems did not have anything like the detail that the only option for their next destination had as for that, probes would have had to have been sent to each and every one. From the nature of the jump points the probe had been able to determine the type of star each system possessed but there was no way to tell if any of those star systems housed any kind of population or even a planet capable of supporting life.

The closest jump point to the _Kronos'_ point of entry was a little over seventeen degrees to port. That in itself was far from ideal because taking that exit would shoot them off in the wrong direction. It was, however, wholly preferable to meandering through what would undoubtedly turn out to be the motherfickler of all shit-storms whilst attempting to reach or more suitably directed point.

"What do you think, Captain Carter?"

"I think if we go in there without any kinda' plan then we're ficked, Ma'am," she replied, bluntly.

"Can you see a way?"

"How long do I have?"

"A little over eight hours before we jump."

"Leave it with me, Ma'am. I'll see what I can do."

***

Technically, Captain Carter had far more time than the eight hours that Captain Tifosi claimed, however those eight were the only hours that would be traversed in normal space. When that counter ran down, the one hundred and thirty-seven that followed would be spent in Jump Space as the _Kronos_ travelled a ridiculously large distance at several times the speed of light.

That was not an issue in itself other than the fact that whilst in Jump Space, navigation was one of the many systems that automatically went into shutdown. It was not impossible to override that function however only a fool would do so, for cancelling the system's shutdown whilst traversing Jump Space had a high probability of causing the vessel to drop out of Jump Space early which would leave the _Kronos_ stranded not only between star systems but in all likelihood, given the distance to the jump exit, between galaxies.

"It's time, Captain Carter."

Carter looked up. She had been on the bridge for hours and although she had not been alone, in fact she had remained at her station during a shift change and had hardly noticed, it is most definitely fair to say that she had spent the entirety of that time in a personal, though metaphorical, bubble, as she sought a solution.

She had run countless simulations, the majority of which had seen the _Kronos_ , unless she headed for the nearest jump point, destroyed.

There was, in point of fact, only one simulation during which the _Kronos_ headed for an alternate jump point, two-thirds of the way around the starboard edge of the star system, and survived with only moderate damage, if you can count a thirty percent loss of life and a hole in the hull the size of a small moon as _'moderate damage_.'

"Aye Ma'am," she said, smiling wearily at the equally as weary Captain Tifosi.

"Automatic shutdown in five. Please tell me you have something."

"I do, Ma'am," she replied, her face scrunched in a rather helpless manner. "I do, but it ain't pretty."

"I'm not after pretty, Carter," Tifosi replied. "I'm after making it across this star system and carrying along our route without having to divert so far that our fuel cells run dry before we manage to find an alternative source of power. I'm after getting my damn people home. That, Captain Carter, is what I'm after."

"Thirty percent loss of life, moderate damage to the hull and life support systems," Carter replied with a shrug.

"Thirty percent?" Captain Tifosi sucked air between her teeth as she shook her head. "You can't get the prediction any lower?"

"No Ma'am," Carter said, smiling that same weak, helpless smile.

"Then thirty percent it is." Tifosi shook her head. "Thank you for your hard work, Captain."

"Pleasure, Ma'am."

***

Captain Carter awoke with a start. She raised her head from the desk in her quarters to find that a piece of paper was stuck to it, thanks to what she sincerely hoped was saliva.

She removed it then rubbed and slapped her face with vigour, and stared down at the pencil scrawls that covered every inch of every piece of paper that was strewn across her desk.

Her eyes were drawn to what to the casual observer would have looked like nothing more than a series of random letters, numbers and squiggles, and...

Moments later she was sprinting along the corridor as she headed for the Deck and it was not until she arrived, somewhat short of breath, that Carter realised she was not even close to being properly attired. Still, she would deal with whatever reprimand came her way at some other juncture.

"Chief!" she yelled. "Chief, where the fick are you?"

"Right here, for fick's sake," the Chief replied as his head poked out from beneath the hood of the plane he was working on. "What's your damn problem, Carter?"

"I need your help," she replied, and proceeded to tell him her plan to ensure a zero percent loss of life whilst crossing the star system.

"You want me to do what?" he asked, a pained look upon his face, though that look faded quickly to one of submission. "Fine, look. Get the Cap'n to sign off on that fickling crazy idea of yours an' I'll have no choice. Thing is, it's so fickling crazy that it might just about work."

***

By the time Captain Carter arrived on the bridge, properly attired in her uniform, the countdown clock insinuated that in less than fifteen minutes time the _Kronos_ would drop back into normal space.

"I do hope this plan of yours works, Captain Carter," said Captain Tifosi from the bridge's central station. "We're all at risk, here."

"It will, Ma'am," she replied, "with one _slight_ alteration."

"Go ahead, Captain Carter. Whatever you need."

"I need you to disable the autopilot function and allow me to take the helm."

"Like _fick_!" Tifosi replied, more than a little shock evident in her voice. "Captain, you might be a good fighter pilot, in fact if I'm to believe what the Chief tells me then you're the best we have by far, but it will be a cold day in fickling _Hell_ before I let you take the helm of my damn ship."

When Captain Carter replied, she did so calmly.

"I can guarantee a zero percent loss of life if I take the helm, Captain. Not only that, but any damage to the _Kronos_ and her systems will be merely superficial."

Captain Tifosi considered Captain Carter for a moment, looking for some hitherto undiscovered sign of a weakness, a fault of some kind that would give her reason to deny the request.

It was not unheard of for Heavy Cruisers to be piloted manually, though such a thing generally only occurred when repairs to the autopilot were being carried out, and almost never in the heat of battle. The vessels were, as the name suggests, incredibly heavy, ungainly and difficult to manoeuvre, unlike the Battlecruisers that made up the majority of the Fleet which were rarely piloted automatically.

"I like you, Captain Carter," Tifosi said after a few long, drawn out moments.

"Thank you, Ma'am."

"I wager you have a bigger pair on you than any damn man on this ship which is why, against my better judgement, I am going to grant your request."

"Yes Ma'am."

"You have, however, made a series of guarantees, and you _will_ be held accountable should those guarantees prove to have been premature."

"Yes Ma'am," she replied with a nod, having expected nothing less. "Understood."

"In which case the helm is yours. Look after my ship, Janine."

***

Captain Carter's hands rested easily upon the controls fixed to the console at the fore, a smile upon her face.

The _Kronos_ was several thousand times bigger and heavier than anything she was used to piloting but the principles were essentially the same, however depth perception was most definitely something that would come into play, at some point.

"Fifteen seconds until the _Kronos_ enters normal space," a watch-stander cried out. "Ten seconds until the _Kronos_ enters normal space."

Fifteen seconds later, everything went to absolute bloody Hell.

The _Kronos_ dropped out of Jump Space and into normal space, exactly as it should have done. The ship's systems automatically started scanning the star system, as was standard practise. It could take anything from a few minutes to a few hours for such a scan to complete, entirely dependent upon the size of the star system in question.

Proximity alarms sounded immediately and seconds later the reason why was clear; the minefield twelve light seconds dead ahead.

"The damn probe didn't show that!" Captain Tifosi yelled in an effort to get her voice heard over the shrill alarm. "Captain Carter, evasive manoeuvres if you please."

"No disrespect intended, Ma'am," Carter began, gripping the controls tightly as she attempted to wrestle the _Kronos_ to a trajectory that would take her beneath the minefield, "but unless you're gonna' tell me something I don't already know then please, shut the _fick_ up!"

"Captain Carter!" Tifosi yelled in shock, although she said nothing further.

"System report thirty-two percent complete, Ma'am," the same watch-stander shouted out. "Three defence flotillas registered. One - repeat, one unit of Seek and Destroys."

As more and more reports came in it was clear to all that the probe had, somehow, been tampered with. In all likelihood it had been hacked the second it entered normal space and therefore the report it sent back through Jump Space to the _Kronos_ had been falsified in its entirety.

Five inhabited worlds with a total population approaching the upper echelons of eight hundred million, all within stable orbits of the host star, a Class Nine which was essentially a Brown Dwarf with one subtle difference; its size. The thing was enormous and its habitable zone, though relatively close, was big enough to house those five planets and their multiple moons, as well as what appeared to be a defensive wall of gas giants on the periphery.

"Make that seven defence flotillas, Ma'am. One - repeat, one single unit of Seek and Destroys, but..."

"Yes, Lieutenant?" Tifosi snapped, gripping the arm of her chair so tightly that her fingers turned white as Captain Carter managed to find the trajectory the _Kronos_ required.

"There is a fleet hanging back behind the host star, almost hidden within the radiation field."

"Almost?"

"Aye Ma'am," he replied with diligence. " _Almost_. The only reason the systems noticed it was because it is too big a fleet to hide and a small proportion of its vessels are actually having to wait _outside_ the star's radiation field."

Tifosi sucked her teeth. If the report was correct, and there was no feasible reason for her to doubt that it was - then that fleet was enormous.

"What do they have?"

"The systems are running that check now, Ma'am," the Lieutenant replied with a quiver in his voice. "It's taking longer than it usually would due to the fact it is having to use radio signals to detect both the relative position and size of each individual ship."

"Make me aware the second you have more information."

"Aye, Ma'am."

"Captain Carter, how're we doing up there?"

"Could be better, Ma'am," she replied. "Our route through this star system depended upon us being able to slingshot around the star but if they have a fleet waiting in the wings..."

"Aye," Tifosi said, quietly, as she lit a cigarette. "The closest flotilla is three light hours away from our current position and the unit of Seek and Destroys is double that. Hold your station, Captain. We'll have the full schematics of this star system soon enough."

"Aye, Ma'am."

"Lieutenant, have the inhabitants of this star system made any attempts to make contact?"

"No Ma'am, and our attempts to push a message through have failed."

"They're operating a closed system," Tifosi mused. "Either they were expecting someone else or they really, _really_ don't like visitors. Have the Chief put his planes on standby; I want his pilots ready but relaxed. Tense pilots make too many mistakes.

"System report complete, Ma'am," the watch-stander said. "Feeding the report to Lieutenant Farak."

"Lieutenant?"

"It's not looking good, Ma'am," Farak replied. "Eighteen units in total, and each individual unit is made up of twenty Battlecruisers, eight Heavy Cruisers and four S and D class Cruisers."

"It's going to be a tall enough order coming out of an engagement with one of the defence flotillas with our lives," said Tifosi, flatly. "If we go up against that fleet, the _Kronos_ doesn't stand a chance."

Captain Carter remained silent for a moment. There was a way to get the _Kronos_ out of her current predicament and she knew exactly how to go about doing just that. The issue was that she was not entirely sure she was capable of piloting any vessel, let alone one as huge as the Heavy Cruiser, at a velocity so close to the speed of light.

"You're keeping very quiet, Captain Carter," said Captain Tifosi. "Is there something on your mind?"

"I'm just... running things through in my head, Ma'am," Carter replied. "I want to make sure the mathematics check out before I make a fool of myself, blurting something out."

"If it helps at all in your calculations, feel free to disregard anything and everything I said about your guarantees," Tifosi said. "Get the majority of us out of this shit-storm alive, do what the autopilot would not be able to do, and you'll be a fickling hero, Captain."

Although Carter had no inclination whatsoever to be labelled as a hero, she was indeed grateful for the Captain's willingness to drop the threat of charges should loss of life or damage to the _Kronos_ occur.

"Give me a direct open comm link to the deck, the engine room and the battery."

"Do it," Tifosi ordered after several seconds of her Lieutenants awaiting confirmation.

"Aye, Ma'am. Direct comm link to the deck, engine room and battery live in five."

"Chief," Carter said once that connection was live. "I need half of your planes ready to go on autopilot on my mark."

"Understood, Carter. I'm not gonna' like what you're gonna' do with my planes, am I?"

"Depends on whether you like the idea of making it out of this system in one piece, Chief. Which engineer do I have on line?"

"Sinta, Ma'am."

"I'm going to need you to push those engines, Sinta. Give me point-nine-five light on my mark."

"That will burn through our fuel cells very quickly, Ma'am."

"Aye, but we'll still have twelve percent remaining come the jump point and let's hope that running on emergency power thereafter gives us enough to hook up with an MRV."

Carter knew full well it was unlikely the _Kronos_ would meet up with a Mobile Repair Vehicle, certainly in the near-future. Regardless, there was little option.

"Yes Ma'am."

"Good."

"Collins in the battery, Ma'am," said a Lieutenant, saving Carter having to ask that question.

"Collins, how does our stock of mines look?"

"Three dozen units, Ma'am," the man replied.

"And nukes?"

"Nine units."

"Thank you, Collins. Stand by."

"Aye Ma'am, standing by."

"You've had chance to look over the proposed route, Lieutenant?" Carter asked, swivelling in her seat.

"Yes Ma'am," the Lieutenant replied. "It's going to be tight; that jump point is two-thirds of the way around the star system."

"Is it manageable?" she demanded. "Can we make it?"

"We can." The Lieutenant nodded. "Whether we will or not is another matter entirely."

"You let me worry about that, Lieutenant."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Captain Carter took several slow, deep breaths. According to her calculations, verified by the Lieutenant, the _Kronos_ needed to be at point-nine-five light within the next ten minutes.

"Captain Tifosi. You might want to go ship-wide and remind everyone that at speeds above point-eight light, there will be no artificial gravity."

"Indeed, Captain."

"Sinta, are you still online?"

"Aye Ma'am," the engineer replied as over the ship-wide comm, Captain Tifosi reminded all crew not to panic when they started floating around.

"Good. Take us to point-five light, and we'll go from there."

"Aye Ma'am, point-five light."

***

The route through the star system was an incredibly tricky one, taking as it did the _Kronos_ around the back of the gas giants which stood guard and between two of the more heavily populated worlds, using their electromagnetic fields to shield the fact that the large vessel was heading directly for the jump point, rather than to slingshot around the system's host star in line with normal guidelines.

By the time the _Kronos_ reached point-five light it would be too late for any of the defence flotillas or the unit of Seek and Destroys to do anything about it. Only the partially hidden fleet would be able to offer the Heavy Cruiser anything by way of resistance as she sought exit from the system.

"It's about to get very bumpy," said Carter. She was about to bring the _Kronos_ in a wide, sweeping arc that would take her around the back of the gas giants and up to a speed of point-five light, and was expecting the atmospherics to play merry hell with the _Kronos_ ' on board systems.

"Ma'am!" a Lieutenant cried out, her eyes wide as she stared straight at the console in front of her. "The gas giants! They're not planets!"

"Holy fickling..." Tifosi muttered. "Carter, you're seeing this, right?"

"Aye Ma'am, I'm seeing it," she replied. "Looks like we've got ourselves a detail of BFS's, though how the Hell they managed to disguise themselves as _fickling_ gas giants..."

"We can marvel at the technological prowess of this system's residents later, Janine. For now, get is the blue fick out of here!"

"Collins!" Carter yelled into the comm. "Drop a dozen mines on our starboard side, point-two-five of a second between each."

"Aye, Ma'am!" Collins reply came back quickly. Even before the call was terminated on his end, he was already barking orders at his subordinates.

"The fleet is moving, Ma'am!" a watch-stander cried out. "They look to be coming onto an intercept course."

Being several light minutes away, there was little that Carter could do about the fleet. All the watch-stander's shout had done was to inform all within earshot of the fleet's movements, six minutes prior. As the _Kronos_ reduced the distance to the fleet, that lag would of course lessen but by that point, if Carter kept the vessel on her current course, it would already be too late.

"We're out of options, Ma'am," said Carter, gripping the controls for dear life with her head inclined slightly in Captain Tifosi's direction. "You have to make the call."

"We're not done yet, Captain Carter. We still have the planes!"

"With all due respect, Ma'am, involving the planes in this went straight out of the proverbial as soon as we arrived in this system and discovered our signal had been hacked," Carter snapped. "If we send the planes out we'll have none left."

"Using the Jump Drive in system like we were forced to do at Ryban will not work out well for anyone," said Tifosi. "I will not allow my fickling ship to be the cause of yet another Supernova!"

"It's that, Ma'am, or we all die bloody right here," Carter replied with a shrug. "I gave you a guarantee that I'd get everyone out of here alive. The only way I can do that is if you give the order for the _Kronos_ ' Jump Drive to be engaged."

"There are too many innocent people in this star system, Captain. The _Kronos_ will not be the cause of their extinction."

"And yet you'll allow your entire crew to perish?"

"If that's what it takes, Captain Carter," Tifosi replied, her voice quavering. "If that's what it takes."

Carter shook her head in disgust and when she did reply, the words were biting.

"It was not that long ago, Captain Tifosi, that you were ready to accept a thirty-percent loss of life aboard the _Kronos_ as acceptable. Now you're tell me you're willing to let your entire crew die because you're worried about destroying an apparently hostile star system?"

Carter turned to one of the Lieutenants. She knew what needed to be done, just as she knew there was only one way to do it. That did not mean, however, that she wanted events on board the _Kronos_ to play out in the manner she suspected they would.

With that in mind, there was the slightest hint of regret evident in her voice when she spoke.

"Lieutenant."

"Ma'am," he replied, snapping smartly to attention as he did so.

"Do you want to get out of this system alive?"

"Aye Ma'am."

"Do you think that everyone else aboard this ship wants to get out of this system alive?"

"Aye Ma'am."

"Even if the cost of that is the death and destruction of all life in this star system?"

"Aye Ma'am." The Lieutenant did not even hesitate however he did add, "I just want to go home, Ma'am."

"Aye, Lieutenant," Carter replied quietly, her eyes closed. "We all do and I promise you this. I _will_ get you home, Lieutenant."

" _Captain Carter_!"

Carter ignored Captain Tifosi's call; instead she shook her head, slowly.

"Order a squadron of marines to the bridge, Lieutenant. Captain Tifosi's judgement is clouded by the potential - not guaranteed, mind - loss of hundreds of millions of lives."

She turned to face Tifosi directly before continuing.

"I am truly sorry things have come to this, Captain Tifosi, but my judgement is _not_ impaired in such a way. My allegiance is to those on this ship and I _will_ see them back to Victoria."

Silence fell upon the bridge as the requested squadron of marines arrived and proceeded to escort Captain Tifosi to her quarters. It was not until they had left the bridge, in fact, that anyone spoke a word.

"One light minute until the fleet is upon us, Ma'am, with a relative velocity of one-three light."

"The chances of the _Kronos_ suffering a direct hit at such speeds are unlikely, Ma'am," said the Lieutenant.

"Unlikely, perhaps, but it is still too high a risk."

"Aye Ma'am."

"Sinta, are you still online."

"Aye, Captain Carter."

"Good," she replied. "Wind up the Jump Drive, Sinta. We're getting the fick out of here."

Conversations With Dead People

Have you ever had the feeling that as you turned left, rather than turning right, your life took an entirely different direction?

That was exactly how Harriet felt, sitting in the heat of the day beneath a parasol as the wind gently buffeted it, sipping her chocolate and caramel frappuccino as mere feet away, cars and their angry, irate drivers were going nowhere fast.

There had been an accident, a hit and run apparently. A young mother and her child had been killed whilst crossing the road.

The thing is, Harriet had a sneaking suspicion that events had not played out quite as they were supposed to. In fact, she had a rather strong inkling that it was supposed to have been her, not the young mother and her child, who had fallen beneath the wheels of the car, apparently driven by an extremely cowardly individual.

"You're right, you know."

Harriet hadn't noticed the man sit down opposite her, which she found quite odd considering the man's attire. Surely she would have noticed that a man with incredibly dirty dreadlocks and tight-fitting body armour that looked as though it would protect its wearer from a close range nuclear blast, carrying what looked very much like a weapon capable of destroying a tank with nothing more than a tickle and the hilt of a sword protruding above each shoulder, sat down opposite her.

"I'm right?" she asked, thinking it was probably in her best interests to show politeness at the very least. "About what?"

"About the fact it was supposed to be you laying on the ground, dying of death after being hit by an Alfa Romeo doing seventy-three, give or take, in a built up area."

"How did you..?"

"Because I'm from the future," he replied, pausing to light a cigarette using a match struck upon the stubble of his chin. "Specifically, _this_ future, 'cos until you didn't get killed in that hit and run, I didn't exist."

Harriet was confused, quite rightly, and she was well aware that her expression alluded to said confusion.

"I'm not surprised you're confused," the man said with a smile. "I'd wager that if I wasn't aware of the whole cause and effect malarkey, I'd be pretty confused as well."

"Cause and effect is simple enough to get my head around," Harriet replied. "What I don't understand is how my lack of death on this day makes any difference to whether or not you exist. I mean, are we related in some way?"

"No, nothing like that," he said with a shrug. "At this point in time, my closest living ancestors are a stripper working out of Las Vegas and an eleven year old schoolboy from Inverness."

Apparently she must of shot him a rather shocked expression because he hastily added, "don't worry, they don't get together for another ten years or so."

"Then I don't understand," she said, taking a brief pause to finish her frappuccino. "How does my continued existence influence your future existence?"

"Trust me, your continued existence influences a lot." Now it was his turn to pause once again, and stare directly at a man walking by who appeared to have taken interest in the arsenal of weaponry he was carrying.

"Move along, dickhead. Nothing to see here."

The interested man shrugged and shook himself, then went about whatever business he had that day. Later, it all came back to him and he spent hours and hours, trawling various online search engines in search of reference to a heavily armed man sitting outside a Starbucks in Central London, but found no such thing.

"Most people don't believe what their eyes tell them," he continued as he turned back to Harriet. "Most people, upon seeing all these weapons would simply assume it's their mind playing tricks... There's always one, though..."

"So my continued existence," said Harriet, thinking to herself how surreal the entire conversation was. "Is it a good thing?"

"Well that's a difficult question to answer," the man replied. "I mean, the history I've known is all that I've known. I have no idea what the world would have been like if you'd been hit by that car. All I know is what the world, my history, is like because you _weren't_ hit by it."

"And what is your history like?"

"Bloody, brutal..." he replied, a faraway look in his eyes. "Lots of violence and war with a genocide or two thrown in for good measure."

"Oh my..."

"Hey it's not all bad," he replied with a half-smile. "Trust me, we've got some bitchin' water parks where I'm from and the music is pretty damn sweet, too."

"I'm not sure water parks and decent music compensates for genocide..."

"Clearly you've never been to Splatter Canyon," he replied with a chuckle.

"Clearly..."

He shrugged and lit another cigarette from the still-smouldering tip of the other.

"So I suppose you're going to tell me I should make the most of my life, considering I wasn't supposed to live past this morning."

"I'm not going to tell you anything," the man replied. "Your life is yours to do with what you will and it doesn't matter what that is. Most of what you do won't affect the future in any way whatsoever."

"Most?"

"Aye, most... It's a bit of a misnomer, really, that every single decision we make creates a different future. 'Course, some decisions do."

"Like my decision to turn right instead of left?"

"Exactly," he replied. "Sure, it might not have felt like a big decision at the time but those life-changing decisions don't have to be big, they just have to be."

"Do you know which decisions are going to affect what?"

"No, and I wager that's no bad thing. Can you imagine the power anyone who knew that would hold?"

"I suppose..."

"It'd make the Venusian Wars look like an astrobar brawl... It'd be..." he cut himself short, and shuddered.

"Well we couldn't have that, could we?"

"No, we couldn't," he replied. "I lost a lot of good friends down on Venus... It was a massacre..."

"And that massacre happens because I didn't get hit by that car?"

"Indirectly but yeah, sure, and to be fair not for a few hundred years so you probably shouldn't hold yourself responsible."

"So time travel, too?"

"What about it?" he asked. "You're asking if you're indirectly responsible tor time travel?"

The man released the most almighty guffaw, slapped the table reasonably hard and wiped tears from his eyes before he continued.

"I'm sorry," he said, attempting quite unsuccessfully to stifle further outbursts. "I'm sorry, but no. Time travel was cracked decades ago."

"Who by? Hawking? Einstein?"

"None of the above. I don't suppose the name Freddie King means anything to you?"

"Not a thing..."

"I didn't expect it would... What are we, twenty fifteen? Give it about fifteen years and he'll show up claiming to have spent three weeks living with a family of Neanderthals."

"Neanderthals... Wait, you don't mean..?"

"That's exactly what I mean," he replied. "All the evidence that shows Neanderthals and Homo Sapiens getting it on, that's King."

"I can't even..."

"I know, I know," he replied, kindly. "It's a lot to get your head around."

"Yeah, it is," said Harriet. "Listen, I think I need to go for a walk, stretch my legs and try and sort all of this out in my mind."

"That's understandable," he replied. "I reckon I'd have to do the same."

"It was lovely to meet you, erm, I'm sorry I never got your name."

"I didn't give it," he replied with a smile, "but it was nice to meet you too, Harriet."

With a slightly befuddled grin she got to her feet, turned and made to walk away. She did not get very far though because as she turned, the man stood and drew one of his swords. Bringing it around in a beautifully executed arc he severed Harriet's head from her neck. Both body and head fell to the ground with a dull thud, landing mere inches apart.

"Just because you didn't die beneath the wheels of that Alfa Romeo today doesn't mean that you weren't supposed to die," he said, quietly. "I'm sorry, Harriet, I truly am, but your survival this morning has already done too much damage. We can't risk your continued existence influencing our history even more."

Anti-FanFiction

"I don't know how many times I gotta' tell you but let's go for one more, eh? My characters are my fucking characters. They're not yours, they're not anyone else's. They're mine, mine fucking mine."

With wide eyes he shook his head in disbelief as the smouldering cigarette hung limply from his lips.

"Seriously, I worked fucking hard to create a cast of believable, likeable characters..." He paused that he might take one final draw upon the cigarette before stubbing it out in the ash-tray beside him. "...and I work even harder keeping them in line. Trust me, it's no exaggeration to say they've got fucking minds of their own. Thing is, their minds and my mind are the same fucking thing. I don't want any other fucker thinking they know what's going on inside my head well enough to know what the fuck my fucking characters are gonna' do in a given situation."

Still shaking his head he retrieved another cigarette from the packet resting upon the table beside him, knocked back the whiskey that was likewise within easy reach of his left hand, lit the cigarette and continued his tirade.

"My characters are real people, or at least they might as well be. The certainly are to me and let's be honest for a fucking minute that's all that fucking matters. I mean, how the fuck would you like it if some fucker took it upon themselves to write about you, or more specifically their own interpretation of you? You wouldn't fucking like it one bit, would you? So imagine, just for a fucking minute, how my characters - or any fucking writer's characters, for that fucking matter - must feel when some fucking scrote, some rank fucking amateur who don't got the stones nor brains to put themselves out there and create their own work of fucking art, takes them in their inexpert hands and ties to mold them into something they're fucking not."

For the first time in several minutes he glanced up to see a sea of shocked faces staring back at him. Some, he suspected, were somewhat aghast that he had the audacity to smoke in a public place, a conference centre where many young science fiction fans were attending the convention being held there but most, and he was under no illusions about this, were probably more concerned with his F-rated rant. There was certainly no shortage of shits, fucks, cunts, bastards, cocksuckers and motherfuckers - there was even a cock-juggling thundercunt - in his work, but witnessing his potty mouth first hand, rather than via the lips of his much-beloved characters, was clearly too much for many people to take.

Well, fuck 'em. Shit had gone too far to give two fucks about them now.

"So, what was the question again?"

"Erm..." A noise rather than a word, followed by a tiny cough, and the young girl who had asked the previous question, the one that had fuelled his recent rant, spoke. "Are you ever going to do another crossover between Half-Light and Tales From the Easter Quadrant?"

At least the lass'd had the sense to finish there rather than where she had done the first time, telling him about a novella she had read on some fucking fan fiction website focusing on some fucking fucked up relationship between Dan and Ecks, the main protagonists from each of the aforementioned stories.

Not that he had anything against that in principle. If Dan wanted to get it on with some dude from another of his created universes - they shared the inside of the same head, after all, so the occasional crossover was to be expected - then that was just fine by him. But if that was gonna' happen it was gonna' be on his watch.

If Dan was gonna' fuck some dude up the shitter and/or get his shitter fucked by some badass with a penchant for killing shit and fucking alien hookers then he was gonna' be present making sure his characters were not forced to do anything they did not want to do.

Dan and Ecks were both hard as shit, in vastly differing ways of course, but just as hard as each other. He had not made them that way, either, not really, and if he had he had certainly not done so alone. When he had mentioned his characters having minds of their own he had most definitely not been exaggerating.

They were also his most popular characters and he knew that _'Dacks_ ,' as they were quite often referred to in and around the fan fiction community, were quite often portrayed as lovers.

"Probably," he replied with a shrug, lighting another cigarette with the still-burning remnants of the previous one. "Y'never fucking know, do you?"

"How about ZEDS?" came a shout from somewhere in the middle of the audience. "You haven't brought anything out in that universe for months and some people are speculating that you intend to leave it exactly where it is."

"Maybe I do," he replied, shrugging once more. "Maybe that's where the story ends."

"Well that's bullshit, considering you left the second novel hanging and you've not even finished either spin-off... Maybe it's time to let someone else take over."

"Fuck that and fuck you!" he shouted, angrily scanning the audience for the youth. "You think you can do a better fucking job than me when it comes to writing my shit? You reckon you've got a storyline inside that retarded little fucknugget of yours more gripping and thrilling than the shit that's inside my head?"

He paused, curling his nose in disgust as he took an incredibly long, deep drag upon the cigarette and breathed out an enormous cloud of smoke as he spoke.

"Y'know what? Fuck the lot of you; I'm out."

***

"How'd it go?"

He did not proffer anything by way of an answer. Instead he started the engine and wound down the window, resting his head back into the headrest as he did so.

"As well as that, eh?"

"Musta' been pretty fuckin' brutal. Ain't too often he gets like this."

"Anyone got a drink? I'm fucking gasping."

"Erm... here."

"Shut up, the fucking lot of you!" he yelled, shaking his head with an accompanying chuckle. "Seriously, you're like a bunch of fucking kids."

"Must've gone really badly if you're taking it out on us."

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply through his nose as the soft, gentle, very feminine hand caressed his thigh. When he opened them mere moments later he found himself looking straight into the eyes of Eloise _'Badass'_ Barker and he smiled, weakly.

"They were talking fan fiction again, weren't they?" she asked, her voice as soft and delicate as her tender touch. "Did they bring up _Dacks_?"

"That's all they ever want to talk about, El," he replied, a wave of calm washing effortlessly over him as she stroked, moving her hand to his denim-clad inner thigh.

"You do realise we don't give a fuck who else writes us, right? I mean, at the end of the day it's not like anyone else actually has control of us an' all that shit. Hell, it ain't like you've even got control over us."

"What's your point, Dan?" he asked, his eyes still transfixed by the beautiful deep blue eyes that belonged to the delectable Ms Barker.

"Point is it don't fuckin' matter. Just 'cos some bellend reckons they know what we'd do in a given situation don't mean shit. It's you we chose, all of us. Ain't no one else any of us would rather have tellin' our fuckin' stories an' if'n anyone else tries, well they ain't tellin' stories of us, they're tellin' stories about us that they wanna' hear."

"I think what Sir Colt is attempting to say, in the way that only he can," said Eloise, leaning towards him as she spoke until she was close enough that her lips brushed gently against his ear as her mouth emitted words, "is that you need to stop fighting this. People are going to write fan faction and, thanks predominantly to our collective fantasticness, people are definitely going to write fan fiction involving us... I'm just a little disappointed that _Dacks_ have never taken a break from doing each other to pop into my boudoir and double-team me."

He closed his eyes once more and sighed, heavily. They were right, of course they were right. He really ought to take it as the compliment it was that people loved his creations so much that they were willing to use their limited amount of spare time to write their own stories about them.

He opened his eyes and lit a cigarette, glancing quickly around the empty car with a smirk upon his face.

As he drove away, roughly in the direction of the nearest pub, he entertained the thought that maybe, next time one of his fans brought up the subject of _Dacks_ , _EloDacks_ or even fan fiction in general, he might not fly quite so high off the handle... Maybe...

Citadel of Seclusion

" _James_!" a female voice yelled across the bar as behind said servery, glasses and bottles shattered.

"Sounds like someone's happy," a man said, quietly chuckling along with his three companions. He got to his feet with his half-drunk pint in hand. "What's he done this time, Earsplitter? Left the toilet seat up again?"

He turned back to his friends, laughing, and noticeably less than a second later they joined in, too, although their laughter was short-lived.

"Sit the fuck down, Johnny!" The words directed at him were spoken with such venom and distaste, and a force that he was unable to resist pushed him back into his seat.

"Someone needs to change her tampon," he muttered, though this time his friends did not laugh.

Earsplitter shot Dave, the barman, a look and he nodded to his right, to the pool room, and she strode through the throng of her fellows, in her anger not caring that she physically barged several of them out of her way. They knew better than to engage her when she was so riled, though, if they wanted to keep their eardrums intact, that is.

"Sally!" a young man, James, placed his pool cue to the table excitedly as she entered, though the look on her face quickly quelled that excitement.

"Don't you fucking Sally me," she yelled, the force behind her words pushing him backwards towards the wall, despite the fact he was certain his feet were planted firmly.

Before she was able to do any more damage, James shook violently and became encased in a block of solid ice. Even that though, was no match for Sally.

"Don't you fucking dare go all Permafrost on me, either!" Her shrill voice did exactly what she knew it would, and shattered the ice that had until moments ago engulfed him. "You shagged Amanda."

"Amanda?" he asked. "Wait, d'you mean A-Blaze?"

"Who the fuck else would I mean?" she hissed.

"I never," he protested. "Seriously, babe, who told you that?"

"She did, you fuck. She showed me the damn pictures!"

She snapped her head around as she felt a tap on her shoulder, and just about managed not to make Dave's eardrums explode. It wasn't a good idea to severely injure the man who served the Supers beer at cost and a half.

"Listen," he said, quietly. "If you two are gonna' have another domestic can you take it outside? If I have to refurbish The Citadel of Seclusion again, it just won't be the same."

"I'd keep out of it if I were you, Dave," said the guy who had been beating James at pool. "You know they'll front the damage so long as you keep the beer flowing."

"Fair enough," said Dave with a shrug. "But it's on you, Bedrock. You gotta' make sure they pay for whatever damage they cause."

"I got your back, Dave," he replied, his voice low and gravelly. "Besides, judging by the way Johnny's giggling like a **fucking school girl** , I'm pretty sure he had something to do with this shit."

Leaving the bickering couple to their squabble, Bedrock strode across the bar to where Johnny and his friends were finding the whole episode apparently quite amusing.

He wasn't a large man, not really, but his body was about as close to solid muscle as was possible. Very few people, even Supers, willingly picked a fight with Bedrock.

"Evening, Johnny," he said, placing the flats of his hands upon the table, sticky as it was with spilled beer and other beverages. "Something tickling you, is it?"

"Keep your nose out, Alan," said Johnny, although he did so rather quietly, quite possibly in the hope that Bedrock wouldn't hear him.

"Yeah, keep your nose out!"

Calmly, Alan turned to one of Johnny's companions with his eyebrow raised.

"Reckon you should put a leash on her, Johnny," he said, not breaking eye contact. "Snapshot here's quite likely to end up taking early retirement and spending the rest of his days talking about the good old days with my granddad."

"Oh come on, Alan," Johnny protested. "It was just a bit of fun, nothing more than that."

"What was?" Still, Alan had not averted his gaze from Snapshot. "Let me guess, you convinced A-Blaze to pose in a compromising position or two whilst Cracklepuff here took a few selfies. Then it was simple enough to superimpose my brother's body into those photos and have Amanda show them to Sally, claiming he knobbed her. How am I doing so far, Cracklepuff?"

"Erm..." Snapshot stammered as the table thudded where Johnny kicked his shins beneath it.

"Yeah, I thought as much," said Bedrock, chuckling. He then turned to Johnny, his stare enough to make the man jump. "Just because you're the flier, Aeriform, don't think I won't rip your bloody nads off if you mess with my brother like that again. Understand?"

"Y-yeah," Johnny replied. "Loud and clear, Bedrock. Sorry."

"Don't apologise to me," he said, grinning. "It's not me you gotta' worry about, nor James, but Sally? Well..."

"Phone's ringing," said Amplitude, another of Johnny's companions and sure enough, seconds later, the telephone behind the bar of The Citadel of Seclusion began to ring."

"Electron!" Alan shouted across the bar. "Turn that TV off, will you?"

The woman to whom Bedrock's shout had been directed turned her head towards the television set high up on the wall, blinked, and the machine clicked off.

"Everyone, pipe down!" Phonic yelled, his voice so loud that the entire bar was stunned into silence.

"Hello," said Dave as he answered the telephone. "Citadel of Seclusion."

Every Super in the bar turned their attention to Dave and the telephone conversation he was having, some more so than most as at least five of them – Earsplitter and Amplitude included – had super hearing as part of their package.

"Robbery, right you are... Jewellery and cash... so you want... right... OK, yeah... right..."

The call over, Dave replaced the handset to the receiver and turned back to face the Supers, all of whom were waiting with bated breath.

"Jewellers on Lower Smith Street and the bank two doors down," he said. "The police have cordoned off the whole street but they reckon there's hostages inside."

"Who'd they want, Dave?" a voice spoke up.

"Not you, Juice," he replied with a chuckle. "You tell me where there's a damn river or even a bloody pond anywhere near Lower Smith Street."

A small chuckle rippled around the bar, but most were still waiting to hear which of them the police had requested.

"Bedrock..."

"As bloody usual," Johnny muttered.

"...and Aeriform," said Dave, ignoring Johnny's interruption. "Earsplitter, too, and has anyone seen Momentum?"

"In the lavvy snorting lines most likely," said James, this getting much more of a laugh than any comment Dave had made, mostly because it was quite likely true.

"Right then... You can move pretty quickly on your ice can't you, Permafrost?" James nodded. "OK, I'll clear it with the Detective Chief Inspector but to be honest, I can't see her having issue with it."

Alan nodded, at which point Electron turned the television back on. Just because the majority of the Supers weren't required for the evening's endeavours, that didn't mean those staying home couldn't watch events as they happened.

"We happy few," said Alan with a smile as he, Sally, Johnny and James, made their way towards the door.

"Robbery?" Johnny scoffed. "Pah, piece of cake... Oh and Sally, sorry about that bit of fun we had at your expense."

"You'd best sleep in a lead case at night, Johnny, 'cos that's the only way you're going to wake up able to hear a fucking thing."

"So we're good, babe?" James asked, touching Sally's arm gently, both smiling as Johnny ensured that Bedrock stood between him and the woman almost-scorned.

"We're good," she replied, turning to him with a smile. "But I do feel the need to relieve some tension by sending a couple of blokes to the Otolaryngologist!"

Dave watched the intrepid band of heroes leave and as the door swung shut he shouted, "right you lot! Back to drinking! I've got a business to run. The Citadel of Seclusion doesn't pay for itself!"
