Princess Rescue Inc
Read Princess Rescue Inc Online
Authors: Chris Hechtl
Princess Rescue Inc.
By Chris “Jekyll” Hechtl
Copyright:
This
is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are
fictional. Any resemblance to living people is purely coincidental. Any
resemblance to real or fictional people are in parody.
All
rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book and or portions
thereof in any form.
Copyright
2013 by Chris Hechtl
Edited
by Gord Archer, Jacob Larson, Brandon Bynum, Thomas Burrows, and Chris
“Mechmaster” Smith
Cover
art Copyright 2011 by Chris Hechtl
Some 3d
models are stock Inspire 3D assets. Some are stock Daz 3D assets. A few models
and outfits came from Renderocity or shareCG. All others by Chris Hechtl.
Textures
from Inspire 3D, my own works, and the web.
Dedication:
To the fans for putting up with
my writing style and horrid editing skills. Thanks for hanging in there folks.
:)
Author's note:
Nope,
this isn't a rewrite of Bootstrap Colony. This started with a couple of scenes
and then I tied it together with a “what would I do with a Stargate Scenario?”
That tied in with the... “What if they went and found they weren't the first
people? How would someone from the past survive on an alien world? Survive and
thrive?”
This
book was written years ago and I'm just now getting around to cleaning it up,
adding more perspectives and getting it off to the guys to edit. Warning, it
has a couple of graphic adult scenes in it... and a few gory deaths. Not nearly
as bad as Afraid of the Dark, but you get my drift.
I hope you enjoy it.
Herod
looked over his shoulder nervously. From the look of the approaching dust cloud
it wouldn't be much longer. He turned back to his people. He was the village
headman, and he cursed the fate that had brought them here. Fate and his
overweening pride. His children were going to pay for it, pay with their blood.
“Father
what should we do?” his eldest son asked, tugging on his stirrup. He turned to
look down at the lad. Black hair and wide, frightened brown eyes looked
back up at him.
“I
don't know son,” he said turning to view the others once more. He and the
hunters were the only ones armed with any sort of real weaponry. The rest had
spears or hunting bows with blunts for arrows. A few of the men and a couple of
the stout older lads had clubs and kitchen knives but little more. He turned.
They had three
branacks
, a plough mule, and a couple of cows, All but
his
branack
Lightfoot had been hitched to a cart or wagon. The animal's
flanks were raw from being driven over the overgrown path in such haste. He bit
his lip. At this rate they would founder soon, white foam crusted their
nostrils and sweat dripped from their flanks. Something had to be done. He
turned to look back, surveying the group. Damascus and Richard caught his eye
and nodded. The older men were ready to fight but knew the odds were against
them.
Herod
turned. They were near the hill top, boulders were on either side. The orange
ball in the sky was full which made moving about at night much easier, which
was a blessing. The footing on this path was treacherous. He knew one false
move and someone would twist an ankle or worse. When his
branack
reached
the peak he paused and turned to the side of the path, letting the women and
children pass. What he saw truly frightened him. Frightened and enraged.
He
could see black clouds of smoke rising in the distance, most likely from their
once small but growing village. Oh it had seemed safe all right, the wall had
been the hardest to build, he still had the calluses but it had proven
effective at keeping the basilisks and other monsters at bay. He shaded his
eyes with his hands and tried to focus on the dust cloud. It was a few leagues
too close for comfort.
Theirs
had been a border village, guarding the river crossing into the thrice cursed
enemy's lands. He wished, oh how he wished that the bridge had been made of
wood not stone! Had he had but an hour's warning he could have flamed the
bridge and then laughed on the other side.
But
no, it was not to be. Even if he had thought to pile hay and brush on the
bridge to weaken it and slow the approaching army it was not to be, the
vanguard had been sent ahead to ford the river further upstream and then
capture the bridge and then the village.
He'd
had only a moment's warning, old Yensi had stumbled in on his lathered
branack
with arrows stitching his back. He'd collapsed out of the saddle and gasped out
a warning of the army before he'd died. Yensi's
branack
had fallen
as well on the march. He missed the beast, missed it sorely now.
“Abandon
the goods here,” he said turning. “Perhaps it will slow them,” he said turning
in place with his
branack
Lightfoot. Lightfoot danced, unsure of all the
activity. “Easy now,” he said patting a flank. “Easy girl.”
“Lad
that won’t slow them much if at all,” Richard said, coming over to him. He
looked down at his son and then to his uncle. The others were abandoning the
carts and goods but keeping their packs. He frowned but turned away.
“I
know, but it's all we got.”
“Not
quite all,” Richard said. He was game, lamed by a
basilisk
but he'd
still kept up, staying off the wagons and carts and hobbling along. “I'll stay
and delay them,” Richard growled eyes glittering.
The
boy gasped. “Uncle!”
“Be
good to your sisters lad, take care of them,” Richard said, voice rough with emotion
as he ruffled the lad's hair. “Now go on,” he said.
“I'll
remain as well,” Damascus said. Herod looked into his gray bearded friend's
face and then nodded reluctantly. Most of the older folks were now volunteering
to buy the younger set time to escape. Tearful hugs were exchanged and murmurs
of love and support. “His Majesty must be warned,” Damascus growled, eyes
glittering as he held his staff. “Your bow lad,” he said holding up a hand.
Herod took it off and then the quiver of arrows. He handed them down and then
pulled the two quivers off Lightfoot's packs.
“We'll
kill as many of the cursed bastards as we can. Get the others to safety,”
Richard said, overturning a cart to block the path. Goods tumbled and fell
including Herod's two precious anvils. He regretted bringing them now, useless
dead weight that had only slowed them down. “Now go!” he said turning and
slapping Lightfoot hard on the flank. The
branack
started and lunged
forward.
“We
will not forget you!” the lad said turning away. A few of the women were
snuffling and whimpering. Tears pricked and stung Herod's eyes as well. He
saluted the courageous men and women behind them as he moved out. “Good luck,”
he said. He watched Damascus pass a flagon among the doomed and then motioned
to another to dump the other flagons out ahead of them and on the road. A torch
was handed off and stuck in the ground. Herod's heart twisted. They were going
to use the alcohol as a last resort, to set fire to the road and hopefully buy
the others precious time.
“Go!”
Damascus yelled as he drew the bow and turned.
Herod
fled into the night with his people.
“Is
this going to work Ryans?” the general asked eying Ryans. Ryans was ruggedly
handsome, tall, and brilliant, but he was also a pain in the ass. He wasn't at
all happy about all the shenanigans the thirty year old genius had pulled here,
he was fairly certain he wasn't the only unhappy one as well. This last
escapade was a doozie. Either it was the biggest hoax in the world or Ryans had
just cornered the only functional portal to another world on Earth. Of course
that didn't mean he'd
remain
in possession of it for long... the general
thought darkly.
Eugene
Ryans, owner of Futuretech smiled. “It already has General, quite a few times
actually.” He pointed to the vortex. “We didn't make it, we just contained it.”
The
general looked at the vortex but his eyes inevitably tracked back to the
waiting camera crews. “You just had to involve the media didn't you?” he asked
sourly. He didn't like having the media in on this. The president and most of
the world leaders were unhappy about that little thing too. It was a lot harder
to take military control of a situation when the cameras were rolling. He
hadn't planned on them being here and therefore didn't have the scrambling gear
to shut their broadcasts down while he took over. That sort of put a crimp in
his plans.
Eugene
Ryans smiled a slight half smile. He knew what the three star general was
thinking right now. “Best way to keep things on the up and up and completely
open. I have to protect the capital we've invested in this project General,”
Ryans said as his lips twisted in another smile. His smile didn't touch his
eyes though. Those same hazel eyes met the general's and locked on. “After all,
I don't want any chain of command problems General. You of all people should
understand that.
My
people did the grunt work, got our foot in the
door.” He pointed to the vortex and waved his hand broadly to the people
working around the area.
“I
have no intention of letting anyone steal our thunder. Now or ever,” he
growled. The general gave him a cold look and then walked off to his aide and
Colonel Richards standing near the entrance.
<==={}------------>
“Is
this for real General?” Colonel Richards asked, eying the light show in the
vortex room. There was a group of techs fiddling with something. Engineers and
techs were doing last minute service work on the vehicles they were supposed to
ride in. For a Stargate there didn't seem to be any ring or anything. A lot of
machinery but no ring. The kawoosh was there, going on and on like some giant
horizontal flush. He wished the damn thing would stabilize or something.
The
general nodded grimly, keeping his back to the damn thing. It was distracting
to look at. “You bet your ass. We've confirmed it. They've been sending probes
through for a couple of weeks. We even sent one of ours through. Damnedest
thing,” the three star general said. He shook his head.
