Among Bright Stars... (2 page)

A lift brought the crew of the
FS-Vor
Kiral Kra
down to the lower hanger where they were greeted by
the supreme overseer of the FX-24 Project: Grand Admiral Arodsur
Krag. “T’Saar!” saluted the Grand Admiral. Arodsur Krag, like most
Falcanian males he wore facial hair, in his case a trimmed auburn
beard that ended in two braided points. He wore a black jodtok,
decorated with many markers of his supreme rank. “Welcome aboard
the
IFV Arshira's Ascension
!” Boomed Arodsur Krag in an
almost too jocular manner. “The first of her class.”

[New York. Imperium Medical Research
Center]

“Truly, a universal blood type!” Behind his
goggle's red-tinted lenses Doctor Ivan Raban's eyes bulged,
thrilled by the results which were pulled from the female corpse's
blood that the Praetorian, Gaius Trajan ordered him to study. “I've
never seen it’s like. Medicine has been trying to develop synthetic
blood along these lines – For the battlefield, and this... Creature
seems to produce it naturally. Its blood is without any trace of
animal origin. Entirely synthetic.”

Gaius Trajan scowled.

In death, the female corpse metalized, to
become speckled platinum. What once had been soft tanned womanly
skin took on a mechanical aspect in its unnatural metallization,
which made it clear that this thing, despite the pleasant female
form, wasn't at all human.

“Very interesting Doctor.”

“More than you know young man.” Dr. Raban
carefully folded back a piece of metallic flesh located in the
corpse's upper shoulder. He'd taken tremendous care in this
autopsy, so as not to damage anything more than what the
Centurion's bullets already mangled. “Bullet resistant flesh and
muscle. When charged with an electric pulse becomes like armor.
This is why only a high-caliber, point blank shot killed her.” The
doctor guessed the Centurions must have been rather surprised when
bullets ablated off this gorgeous woman as she tore into them. Not
impervious, but resilient to most kinetic attacks. “These muscles,”
he probed at vitrified muscular tissue which resembled sculptured
glass. “Are an organic polymer. Quite strong --”

“I've witnessed those muscles at work,
they're superhuman.” Gaius agreed. “She... “He amended himself “It
– Killed eighty men, ripped them apart barehanded, as if they were
paper dolls before a Legion, at great personal cost to themselves
managed to take her down.” He muttered. “Now perhaps my
Legionnaires will be more careful about what whores they try to
bed.”

“It’s a pity,” said Dr. Raban. “I would've
loved to chat with her. Not only does she seem as though to have
been very lovely, if my scan of her brain is any indication,
these... “It troubled Dr. Raban to think of this curious
individual’s corpse in such terms. Yet clearly, Gaius Trajan did
not acknowledge her personhood. “It’s brain is not like yours or
mine. Where we homo sapiens possess mere gray matter, hers is a
positronic mesh. A holographic mind, which no doubt in life
scorched blue-brilliance in its every cerebration.”

The Praetorian glowered. Both impressed and
apprehensive.

“Simplicity and elegance. Very
straightforward, and utilitarian. Better than the mishmash which is
our human organ plan. This technology spans the biological and
mechanical, being neither, yet akin to both.” Continued Dr. Raban
awed. To see this creature's inner workings produced a stark
contrast for Dr. Raban, even helped Ivan see that there might be
something to the notion lately touted, humans were a badly stitched
together slave species, a rough conjoining of Annunaki and hominid.
Humanity in his view were nothing but a pallid attempt at the
refined setup of this... Android. “This being has organs just like
you, or I,” he clarified. “Or the equivalence thereof. Pheromone
glands between her breasts and mouth. Heart, brain, digestive
system... Reproductive organs. All functionally optimal. Flesh that
isn't animal tissue. Honest-to-goodness synthetic biology.”

“What does a machine need reproductive organs
for?”

“Indeed.”

Gaius spat. “A machine that grows. Has a
synthetic heart which pumps blood. What sort of abominations walk
among us?” Asked the Praetorian commander, aware that there were
more than just this single example laid out on the autopsy slab.
Many were all but lords over humanity. It disgusted him.

“In the end,” said Dr. Raban. “Aren't we all
really complex machines?”

That did not mollify the Praetorian very
much. “Doctor, these things have achieved positions of power and
influence across the globe. They rule over nations. King Odin
Battenberg is one, there's an African warlord amassing armies to
build an empire for himself and his woman.” The scariest factor to
Gaius Trajan existed in the person of one of these robots. “And the
Muslim prophet, Darius Noorani can be counted among these
mechanical men. How many more are in our midst? What agenda do they
have?” With no small quantity of paranoia, aghast by the blur
between machine and organic he spat. “These golem should not hold
dominion over mankind's future.”

After the Praetorian left the laboratory,
called away on an emergency military matter, Dr. Raban tried to put
the mechanical female back together as best he could. Dr. Raban
would've greatly enjoyed meeting this woman. He tried to be as
respectful of her remains as his medical technique allowed him. Dr.
Raban removed bullet slugs from wherever he could, and while doing
so, noted nodes placed along the spinal column. Positronic clusters
he deduced. One slug obstructed a connection between two nodes, he
removed the obstruction.

Dr. Raban's probing detected light-sensitive
filaments interwoven throughout the mechanical female's flesh. A
data transfer network, independent of nerves, or autonomic
functions. The implication astounding, if his guess were correct,
she could interface with almost any computer via simple touch, or
through retina projection. “Fascinating!”

Later the good doctor sat down to type out
his findings.

Blood warmed, respiration returned, pulse
hummed, and emerald eyes fluttered open. Bright overhead light
shone down and caused her enhanced eyesight to compensate for the
white brilliance.
Death sucks!
M
ost of the bullets
bounced off, but impact hurts like a bitch!
Thought the woman
as she sat up, naked on the autopsy slab. The redundant positronic
clusters, free from bullet obstructions were at last able to cycle
her restoration program. Her now fully functioning body could
absorb any leftover bullet fragments and very soon she would be
back to ace condition.

Honey-blonde curls draped over her breasts.
Flesh no longer metalized, returned to a soft warmth as life surged
throughout her being. She glanced over at her left shoulder,
noticed a portion of metallic skin which hung loose, with her right
hand she pressed the flesh back into its proper place, commanded
her body to repair the damage. Awareness of her Morningstar
functions permitted access and control. The honey-blonde slid off
the slab, and remembered what brought her here. In her centuries
long attempt to return to her point of origin, to seek out her
creator, she found herself caught up in America's desolation.
Trapped in the wastelands, she became a camp follower. What a
tremendous fall from a woman who once had been a queen.

Dr. Ivan Raban gulped when the reflection of
the beautiful honey-blonde, mechanical female appeared in his
monitor. Caught up in his notes, the sight of her, with that beauty
mark which both marred and enhanced her perfect symmetrical face,
caused him to stagger to his feet shocked. “Oh my God. You're...
You – You're alive!” On a gut level, Ivan knew that shouldn't have
really surprised him, as she wasn't human. Yet to see her there, in
all her naked glory nonetheless flustered the doctor, who only
three hours before had been removing bullets from wounds which
would have more than succeeded in killing any one of the
Imperator's crack centurions.

An almost predatory expression, she smiled.
“I am.”

Ivan thought it might be a Welsh accent,
though he couldn’t be sure. Propriety overtook him and he offered
his hand. “Dr. Ivan Raban attached to the Imperium's Medical
Corp... “ Still rattled, he stammered. “It’s... Very nice... To
meet you... ”

To provide this doctor with her true
identity could complicate an already labyrinthine state of affairs.
Oh, how she wished that the Technomancer were here. He's the one
who sent her on this long, tragic journey across time, so that she
could warn her sibling Morningstars and recover Lucifer's
Watchtower. All in a slim hope that Earth and humanity might be
preserved. Yet he wasn't, she'd need to contend on her lonesome.
“Jennifer,” her current alias. “I am Jennifer Lake.” Her model,
Jennifer knew could be prone to extremes of compassion or violence.
A fact of her nature which left Jennifer in a quandary. What to do
about this doctor? She should kill him; it'd be cleaner that way.
And yet realized that had this physician not been fiddling with her
insides, she wouldn't be standing here alive. “Doctor, I need to
leave this place.” her voice a soothing lilt. “Secretly,”
urgent.

“...And as you can see my Shotar.” Grand
Admiral Arodsur Krag continued to outline the abilities of the
FX-24 Destroyer. “CIC is ovular, rather than circular as on the
FS-9 Raptors.” They'd toured the length of the ship, all 1092-ft of
it, took a bullet car here, and there to at last arrive at the
conning tower, which sat aft of the dorsal section.

Near Atar Kran’s huge shoulder Aria yawned,
not bothering to hide her disinterest in what the Grand Admiral
explained to her husband with his over the top keenness. Tiberius
began to fuss and Aria cooed at him, which caused the child to
giggle.

Casually Sharr sat in the upholstered
blood-red captain’s chair, chunky and angular. The Shotar turned to
look at Aria, Tiberius held close to her bosom. Arodsur went still
on about the elegance of his newest battleship until a
communications officer came over.

“Excuse me my Shotar,” interrupted the Comm.
Officer. “An urgent message’s arrived for you from Imperial
Strato-General Kra.”

A three-word phrase told Sharr Khan all he
needed to know:
It has begun!
“Please put me on the
Inter-ship.” Sharr commanded. An echoing clang, a deep bell chimed
in the corridors of the Destroyer to herald forth the Shotar’s
words. “My Falcanians, forty-five minutes ago,” He spoke into a
vocator. “Under my orders, operation
Raptor Scythe
struck
against the Imperium.” He paused, cleared his throat. “The
Imperium, along with its alien allies have been working on a
fearsome weapon intended for use against us and our homeland. We
will not sit back and allow JR Giovanni to commit genocide.”
Thoughtful, he paused once more. “We must be ready for what is to
come. This crew, of one of the finest vessels I have ever seen
could prove to be our last best hope in the upcoming conflict. Be
ready, and always remember that inside you flows Falcanian blood.
Falcania Jai!”

IFV Arshira's Ascension
bridge crew
got up from their stations, shouted back in unison: ‘T’Saar,
Falcania Jai!'. Sharr Khan got up, and commanded: “Break moorings,
and fire up that Zebulon furnace. Set a course for Earth.”

“Aye!” Arodsur Krag responded, turned to his
crew, and ordered them into action. Thoughts of the hell he could
unleash now that this great weapon had been commanded into life
brought all his senses into sharpness. He had of course been
briefed on the military operation. What he did not know however was
if he, or this new warship would see combat. But, best to be
prepared for any sort of retaliation. Even still, Arodsur Krag knew
they'd probably run afoul of the Armageddon Accords. The slightest
hint that the Imperium activated its doomsday weapon and Krag knew
Sharr Khan would give the order to turn the Shiva-Star cannon on
the Imperium's cities.

[Earth: Vorkrür Island]

His lecture to young Crown Prince Shikar had
been interrupted by Chancellor Trakan’s dire announcement that the
Island and all the Khanate’s holdings were now at condition yellow.
The Chancellor’s speech had been underscored by the fact of a dozen
blood red FS-9 Raptors which now circled the skies like protective
mother falcons.

“So, your Father's done it.” Talik spoke
more to himself than he did to the Crown Prince, who waited in a
state of nervous tension on a T-bar, his black armored tail swished
back and forth. “Let’s hope that my brother’s correct Shikar, he’s
begun a war which perhaps we cannot win.” Philosophically explained
Kreis.
Oh philosophy
, Talik had put aside the rigors of a
military life for retirement within the Shotar’s household. Sharr
had come to trust his half-brother’s counsel. So much so, that the
Shotar left his heir in Talik’s company. After all, the man who had
been Oberon had tutored Arshira magnificently; he could help shape
the boy who would one day take the Claw-Throne just as well. Talik
harrumphed, and returned his attention back to the amulet that
dangled in his hand. He’d just discovered it upon his princely
charge. A simple silver ring, three rays of light at its center,
and a dot over each ray, this he knew to be the sign of the
D’Har-Ziral. He knew also that it had its origin as a Modern Druid
emblem, the Awen. “How is it you’ve come by this?”

“Kheira, Uncle, when I went to visit her.”
Shikar admitted and his maroon wings nervously twitched. “She gave
it to me.” Always filled with pent-up energy, the three-year-old
looked about ready to leap off the T-bar. A side effect of the
accelerated rate Falcanians reached maturity. At three Shikar
seemed to be almost a mid-teen, by ten he’d be nearly a full blown
adult.