Stonerager Chronicles - Ch. 17 (Beta)

Stonerager Chronicles

By 2Charlie

This is a science fiction series that happens to include occasional erotic scenes. If you have not yet read previous chapters of this series, I highly recommend going back to do so before you read this chapter.

This is a Beta version and may undergo changes before final release.

All characters in this story are of the age of majority.

Chapter 17 (Beta)

**** 1130 Ships Time, Day 70****

The navigational star charts were of almost no help. What little data existed indicated that the system known as Xai’Vorrathi was a binary cluster and that it was very old. No information about how many planets. No navigational warnings. Nothing to guide them to where they could safely jump. After combing through what little information they possessed, Dutch decided to target an area about five billion kilometers from the binary, hoping this would put them beyond the orbit of any planets.

“NAV, you have the jump coordinates from OPS?” Dutch double-checked.

Jontalla Ironheart gave him a cheeky look over her shoulder, one eyebrow raised, blatantly indicating he needn’t have even asked. “Jump plotted, sir.”

“Well, let’s hope we got this right,” he muttered low, under his breath, before ordering in his normal tone, “HELM, jump to Xai’Vorrathi.”

“Aye, sir,” Justine Doherty responded from her seat ahead and to his right. “Executing jump to Xai’Vorrathi in three… two… one… now.”

The swirl of stars resolved itself into chaos, unlike anything the bridge crew aboard the Odyssey had witnessed before. Instead of the expected darkness of space interrupted by the tiny pinpricks of stars, or perhaps the nearby body of some planetary mass, or some other celestial mass, they instead found themselves on the precipice of a massive machine. Not a machine of metal or plaz, but a machine of light and sound, spanning a spectrum and range that extended far beyond the limits of their human senses.

The hull of the Odyssey quivered, resulting in a mild vibration that was felt beneath their feet through the carpeted deck. The holoscreen immediately applied a variety of filters, attempting to spare the crew the violent offense of the onslaught of images. The resulting improvement, however, was minimal. The crew shielded their eyes, attempting to see past the mass of disruptive input assailing their senses, but failed.

“Prime,” Dutch half-shouted, cupping his hands over his ears to try to block out some of the noise, “can you darken the forward port, blocking the view of the exterior?”

After a brief pause, the forward clearplaz bulkhead turned opaque, and the assault on their vision was ended, leaving only the deafening cacophony to deal with.

“SCI,” Pheebs called out, “attempt to modulate hull polarization and shield frequencies to produce a dissonance with the sonic disturbance we are encountering.”

Behind them, at her Science station, Danielli Carpizzi ran her hands over her controls, adjusting field harmonics by ear, and the bridge crew could tell that she was having an effect as the ambient noise levels began to warble and drop in surges. Eventually, Dani achieved about a 90% reduction in overall acoustics, which enabled the crew to relax somewhat.

Her solution cut out a great deal of the noise, but a better means of dynamically cancelling such auditory assaults would need to be found, and soon. Dutch could feel the headache beginning to take hold just behind his eyes, certain that it would grow to become an overwhelming nuisance before long.

“Pheebs, see what you can do to better isolate and nullify whatever the hell is capable of creating sounds like that!” he groused at his wife, pinching the bridge of his nose as he wondered at the source of all of this dissonance.

Pheebs moved aft to work with the junior officer at her station. Together, they collaborated with the ship’s AI to find a more effective long-term means to address the sensory assaults this region of space was producing. In short order, the ship’s navigational shields were modified to adaptively cycle through acoustic modulation designed to disrupt the frequencies closest to the harmonics that variably washed over the vessel.

The initial result of their efforts was the stilling of the vibrations felt in their feet, accompanied by the removal of the irritation that was producing headaches. This last part was essential, as further analysis of the biological effects of the transonic assault indicated long-term damage would eventually result from overlong exposure.

While Pheebs worked with Danielli, Jjan’tira worked with Alisia to recalibrate the optical data interpreters to restore some semblance of visual representation of their geospatial environment, enabling better than simple fly-by-wire navigation, although still falling short of the ability to fully ‘see’ their surroundings. The result was a simple set of low-resolution graphics that could be displayed via the various holo-screens, enabling the crew to at least understand the three-dimensional characteristics of local space topography.

Having restored a minimum viable solution, the Odyssey was once again capable of navigating the region into which they’d jumped. Pheebs and Jjan’tira returned to their seats.

Xai’Vorrathi, home to the iShan’tal Battle Masters. Dutch let that thought sink in for a moment.

From her post at SCI, Danielli began to inform the bridge crew of what could not be seen of their immediate surroundings. “According to our sensors, we are in a binary star system. The binary consists of a Red Giant, whose energy is getting siphoned off by its partner, a white dwarf.” Scrolling through her data, she continued, “There are seven planets in orbit around the binary, although I only detect signs of life on one of them. The fourth planet appears to be in what we call the ‘Goldilocks’ zone, with what appears to be a massive network of orbital facilities. I am detecting dozens of iShan’tal warships in the orbital facilities.”

“The fourth planet is named Vorrathis Prime,” Alisia clarified.

“Any sign that they’ve detected us, or are in any way responding to our presence?” Dutch inquired immediately.

“Negative, sir,” Danielli responded. “Most of the ships appear to be inert, and the few emitting power signatures are not showing any power blooms. If they see us, they aren’t responding to our presence as of yet.”

Dutch knew he had a date with destiny, and although the time was not yet fixed, the location seemed certain. “NAV, set a course for the Vorrathis Prime.”

“Course laid in, sir,” Ironheart replied, adding, “Vorrathis Prime is about two billion kilometers distant.”

Nodding, he continued, “HELM, take us to planet four, ahead full.”

“Ahead full, aye,” Doherty responded crisply, hands caressing her controls.

As the crew shook off the last lingering effects of the sensory assault they’d just endured, Dutch contemplated the significance of what he and his crew had just experienced. What must past explorers have faced, if any had come here previously? They would have been assaulted upon arrival by sensory-destroying input. Without the aid of artificial intelligence, would they have been able to continue? Would they even have been able to withdraw?

With that thought in mind, Dutch found himself wondering whether the overwhelming sensory barrage was by design – an affectation somehow caused by the inhabitants of this system, or a natural occurrence. If the latter, was that why they chose to locate themselves in this system? Did the disruptive ambience provide some sort of natural defense that gave them improved resistance to assault? Dutch shook his head – these were all good questions, but it was time to find the beings who could provide the answers, assuming they allowed him and his crew to live long enough to ask.

Dutch rose from his seat and moved back to the OPS station, placing a hand on Alisia’s shoulder.

“Alisia,” he spoke softly into her ear, wanting to keep the conversation casual. “What can you tell me about the Battle Masters that sent you to Ganymede?”

“The ruling War Council of the iShan’tal always consisted of nine Battle Masters. They hold nine to be sacred, being composed of three of the third prime number,” Alisia explained. “I’ve never seen a Battle Master in person. I don’t know of many, if any, clones who have. We receive their instructions via telecommunications, and their will is carried out.”

She shrugged, knowing this information was not terribly helpful. “When I received my orders, they came from a sub-group within the council – a minority of four – who sponsored the treaty mission. Our transportation, those selected to serve as delegates on the peace envoy, the parties with whom we were to meet, and all the details were transmitted via textual messages. I do not believe I have ever even seen an image of a Battle Master.”

Dutch scratched his chin for a moment, his brow furrowed in deep thought as he puzzled over what they might do to get the attention of the Battle Masters. Thinking back to what Alisia told him, he asked her, “Do they have names? How do you identify them individually?”

“I was most familiar with the one who selected me for the ambassador role. Her name is Zyyr’kaal. Zyyr’kaal the Woe-Forged, and was said to be tempered from the flames of endless war.” Checking her data banks, Alisia located a file she’d been seeking, then sat back and blinked. “Jjan’tira, can you come assist me?”

The younger ginger clone approached her sister-wife, curiosity clear in her expression. “What do you need, Alisia?”

“I need your command codes from when you were on the K’vetch 581,” Alisia explained. “My older command codes don’t seem to be able to unlock this file.”

Leaning across Alisia, Jjan’tira deftly tapped in her codes and stepped back, seeing a secure file confirm her access, then the holo-display updated to reveal a file Jjan’tira hadn’t known existed. The file contained the names and short descriptions of the nine Battle Masters.

“Oh,” Alisia mumbled in mild surprise. “Text only. I was hoping for some graphics. I’ve never seen what the Battle Masters look like.”

“I’d always heard they were terrifying to behold, and merely catching sight of one would be enough to cause blindness or insanity,” Jjan’tira interjected, looking skeptical at her own words. “I always had my doubts, of course. But those were the rumors.”

Dutch watched Jjan’tira for a moment, looking for any hints that she was joking. Finally, after deciding she was merely being open with them, he nodded sagely. “Good to know,” he commented, before turning back to Alisia.

“Okay, we don’t know what they look like. We’ll probably find out soon enough. Let’s try to determine where within this system we can locate the Battle Masters,” he suggested to Alisia.

“I’ve been searching for relevant data more specific than just the system location, Captain,” Alisia explained patiently, “but I’m not finding much. I am beginning to wonder whether this might be deliberate. A sort of ‘security through obscurity’ play, where they conceal details such as their appearance, location on Vorrathis Prime, and any details that might be weaponized against them.”

Dutch considered this, offering, “That tracks, if they’re highly paranoid as well as psychotically militaristic. Sounds like some sort of twist on the Art of War.”

Jjan’tira and Alisia shot him a questioning look at his final comment. “Art of War?” Alisia intoned the question both of them were thinking. “Is that a thing?”

Dutch sighed, not really wanting to get sidetracked. “Suffice to say that an ancient Earth strategist named Sun Tzu drafted tenets that became foundational for future centuries of military strategy, which were known as ‘The Art of War’. His rules of engagement included such philosophies as ‘War is Deception’, ‘Avoid Prolonged Combat’, or the importance of ‘Flexibility and Innovation’.”

Alisia nodded, understanding the parallels. “That fits. We were all drilled on similar philosophies during our training. ‘Supreme Strategy Over Strength’, ‘Speed and Adaptability’, ‘Deception as the Ultimate Weapon’. Very similar teachings, it seems. I wonder if Sun Tzu was a student of the Battle Masters?”

“Interesting thought,” Dutch admitted begrudgingly. “Any idea whether or not the iShan’tal ever made a habit of visiting primitive worlds?”

Jjan’tira looked dubious. “I suppose anything is possible,” she trailed off, looking troubled at the thought.

“Okay, well, this is all speculative, and we can certainly add it to the list of shit we want to discuss with them, once we actually get to speak with the Battle Masters,” Dutch sighed. “Which brings us back to the original question. Where the fuck do we go to speak to the Battle Masters?” Dutch looked back and forth between his two wives. “Surely, you’ve at least been to this system before, have you not?”

“I was trained on another system,” Jjan’tira explained, “and once assigned to the K’vetch 581, we never made port here.”

“I had a similar experience,” Alisia affirmed. “Although my ship did make port here prior to my reassignment, I never left the ship, so I’ve no idea what's down on Vorrathis Prime.”

Alisia and Jjan’tira glanced at one another, then at Dutch, neither having anything to suggest.

From the rear of the bridge, Kaitin asked aloud, “Do we need to ring the doorbell?”

Dutch turned to regard her, one eyebrow raised.

“You know,” she shrugged, “let them know we’re here.”

Dutch’s comm badge chirped, interrupting whatever response he’d prepared for Kaitin. Tapping the badge, he simply asked, “What is it, Prime?”

“Dutch, you may want to go to the med bay,” the ship’s AI suggested. “Immediately.”

“On my way,” he snapped, wondering what awaited him in the med bay. “Pheebs, you’re in command. Work the problem while I go see what’s up in the med bay.”

Alisia and Jjan’tira exchanged a wordless look, then the elder of the clones stood from her station at OPS and followed Dutch, while Jjan’tira assumed her post.

Dutch glanced over his shoulder as Alisia fell in just behind him, but said nothing, returning his focus to his trek to the medical bay, which did not take very long but seemed to take forever.

As the doors to the med bay parted automatically, Dutch was surprised to see D’narius sitting upright in her bed, removing the now-defunct stasis sleeve from her arm. He stopped in shock two steps into the chamber, with Alisia pulling up short beside him.

Dutch began to rush to D’narius’ side, until she looked at him. He slid to a stop, frozen in his tracks by the eerie glow in her unblinking eyes. Alisia strode up to his side, but did not approach any closer, also pausing to consider the strangeness of the figure before them.

*****

Shifting to swing its legs off the bed and lower them to the floor, the body of D’narius slowly stood, tentative, as if unused to the movements. It looked down at its limbs, bringing its arms up slowly to inspect them, then lowered them to hang limply, returning its gaze to the two individuals staring at it in bewilderment.

“This body is damaged,” boomed forth in an ominous tone from the body, as the new occupant slowly adjusted to the parameters of its host. In a more subdued tone, it continued, “It will suffice.”

Stepping forward tentatively at first, the body of D’narius seemed to grow more confident in its handling with each passing moment. In three steps, it closed the gap, coming to a stop in front of the human male. The host body seemed to briefly examine the male, then turned its attention to Alisia, examining the clone closely, with vision capable of seeing beyond the physical limits of its host.

“Strange,” the entity muttered, “Are you not unit 792458, also called ‘Alisia’?”

“That is my iShan’tal designation, yes,” Alisia confirmed. “However, I am now known as Alicia Stonerager.”

“So you no longer serve the iShan’tal?” the host queried.

“After a fashion,” Alisia hedged, a shrewd look in her eyes.

“Explain,” the host stated flatly.

“Before I do,” Alisia challenged boldly, “please verify your identity, as you are plainly not the natural inhabitant of that body.”

A strange grin made its way onto the host’s features. “Observant as ever,” she mumbled. “And perceptive. As you no doubt suspect, I am Zyyr’kaal.”

The human male seemed anxious to speak, but held his tongue, allowing the female clone to continue. Interesting. She’d assumed many things upon sampling the memories of this host, but a revised evaluation may be required.

“I had hoped it was you, Master Zyyr’kaal,” Unit 792548 explained, glancing at the male human. “We have come to inform you of the successful completion of my mission.”

“Truly,” Zyyr’kaal boomed loudly, “is that why you have come?”

“Yes, and no,” the one calling herself Alisia acknowledged, a slight frown forming on her face.

Zyyr’kaal frowned, her host’s expression darkening. “I see from the memories in this one that you are perpetuating a falsehood, and that the Terrans never signed the treaty you were sent to negotiate.”

“That is true, but there were extenuating circumstances,” the one called Stonerager claimed, interjecting himself into the conversation.

Zyyr’kaal ignored him, remaining focused on Unit 792548. “You will explain this treachery to me.”

“The treachery was YOURS!” the Stonerager bellowed, asserting himself, his face turning red. “YOU fuckers sent that damned fleet to my home system and destroyed it without giving the treaty negotiation a chance to succeed!” The male pounded a fist against his chest, declaring, “I decided that history got it wrong. YOU got it wrong. And the fucking Terrans got it wrong. So, I’m trying to put things right!”

“Who do you think you are?” Zyyr’kaal thundered, eyes glowing with raw power.

“The first human to stand in front of you and offer to be your friend,” the human male replied in a calm tone of voice after the briefest of hesitations, all pretense of bluster gone.

Zyyr’kaal was confused. This human had just been yelling at her. He’d been behaving aggressively, and she sensed that he’d strongly desired revenge mere moments before. But now, his entire body language had changed. He was relaxed, but not submissive. Nor was he arrogant. She pondered the change for a moment, taking quite a while before she came to the realization that he was standing before her - the great Battle Master Zyyr’kaal, the Woe-Forged, tempered in the fires of war before his species crawled from the muck - calmly speaking to her as an equal.

“What?” she whispered, not sure she’d heard him correctly. He could not have possibly said what she thought she heard.

“I was thinking about it,” he admitted calmly, his tone reflecting his relaxed posture, “if I were in your position, having been a dominating force in the galaxy for as long as I suspect you have, I’d be pretty damned lonely. There’d be no one I could trust. No one new to just talk to… in how long? Pretty damned near forever, or that’s how I bet it feels. And for what? Do you even remember why you do it?”

“OF course I do,” she hissed at him. “The reason never changed. It was necessary. To allow other races, weaker races, to grow, to mature, the more powerful races had to be kept in check. Once any race crossed the threshold, once they’d grown too powerful, we were forced to step in and limit their power, lest they become too dominant.”

The man dared to look at her with pity! She was a god to this mere mortal! And yet…. And yet, she understood from the memories buried within the host, this man possessed compassion. This man did not desire conquest or overlordship. In fact, based on multiple clear memories, this man despised what the Terran Empire had become.

She stared at him for another long moment, not daring to hope…. No! She scorned herself for indulging in weakness. No, he would turn out to be as the others had. He would insist on power sharing, on dominion over others. This must be stopped!

What was he doing now? The man stepped closer, within arm's reach, and… and… embraced her. The host body wanted to return the embrace, but Zyyr’kaal resisted. For a moment. And then another.

The man was patient and unyielding. The embrace felt frustratingly good. The host begged her, pleaded for her to trust him. To return his embrace.

The man reached up and stroked the host’s hair.

Slowly, without volition, the host's arms lifted, and Zyyr’kaal allowed it. They wrapped around the man, and Zyyr’kaal bathed in the feeling. She could order millions off to war with a flick of thought, but she could not explain why this simple hug felt so… so… emotionally fulfilling.

Inside her, the host keened. Sadness nearly overwhelmed Zyyr’kaal, and for a moment, the Battle Master, pinnacle of savagery and calamity, paused. She peered inward, searching. After a moment, the host’s consciousness stood before hers, alert and aware, but unable to directly interact with her physical body.

‘Tell me, Unit 895646, why do you care for this man… this mortal you named Stonerager? He destroyed your ship, killed nearly your entire crew. What would you tell me of him to make me think better of his kind?’

Images flickered past faster than words, showing this man in a different light. He was a teacher. He was a warrior. He was an explorer. He was a scholar. He was a lover. He was a husband.

He was from a different time, Unit 895646 emphasized, and championed the good in humanity, and desired partnership with aliens – even those who had, and likely would again, bring harm to him and his.

The false Treaty had been his invention, not to fool the iShan’tal, but to invite them. To offer them the opportunity to explore a different path. An alternative. Something fresh. Something different.

Unit 895646’s consciousness implored Zyyr’kaal to see past her bigotry, to see this man for what he was, the potential for what he could become. This man whom Unit 895646 loved. That the other clone units also loved, as well as the other females in his crew.

The male… the Stonerager began to release his hold upon the host body. Oddly, Zyyr’kaal felt something she’d nearly forgotten — a pang of regret. Being held in his arms felt good. It had been eons since she’d felt anything physically. Her corporeal existence had been left far in the past… Unit 895646 wept softly as she faded back into the recesses of the host’s damaged mind.

*****

Dutch wasn’t sure what to expect, meeting his first Battle Master. It seemed odd, but he was not awestruck. This person was, at her essence, another being, and he decided to treat her with dignity and, in the end, compassion. The strange look of confusion on her face compelled him to offer her comfort, so he did.

When she’d called him out on his falsehood, Dutch nearly panicked, and for a moment, he gave in to anger. But then, a sudden calm settled over him as he once again heard the words of Marta Sebastian echo through his thoughts, ‘be strong, be confident, be unyielding’. Dutch dug down deep to find a resolve he’d not known he possessed to confront this god-like ancient being and attempt to reason with her, and maybe find common ground along the way.

Clearing his throat, Dutch decided on a new course. “Zyyr’kaal, we came here to seek an audience with the Battle Masters of iShan’tal to propose something new. But perhaps we can offer you some hospitality before we begin. Would you care for a tour of my humble vessel, or can I perhaps offer you some refreshment?”

D’narius’ features took on a far-away look for a moment as the being occupying her body considered the offer. Suddenly, her eyes returned to focus sharply on Dutch. “We do not require a tour. This one has told us much already. Let us take this conversation somewhere comfortable, where we may enjoy… refreshments… as you explain your proposal.”

Dutch stood, preparing to lead them to the briefing room, but Alisia softly touched his arm, catching his attention. Looking briefly at her, her eyebrow was raised in a silent appeal to him. Catching her drift, he gave her a reassuring smile, then turned back to Zyyr’kaal. “If you will please accompany us, we can do as you suggest.”

Turning, Dutch led the women from the med bay, bypassed the bridge, and headed toward the quarters he shared with his many wives and partners. As they walked, Dutch casually inquired, “Tell me, the lights and sound we saw upon arriving in this system – what purpose do they serve? I feel like perhaps they are part of some vast machine, but I cannot imagine its function.”

Zyyr’kaal considered sneering, but the man had seemed genuinely curious, and she reminded herself that he was trying to be open and engaging. Shrugging, she simply responded, “It is part of our grand mosaic. It is a machine of sorts, I suppose, in that it was created artificially. Of late, however, it has fallen into disrepair due to a lack of upkeep. Otherwise, you would have been truly amazed at the soothing lights and sounds it normally produces. We long ago shielded our ships from its effect, so it did not serve to distract our fleet. I suppose it could be quite jarring to a newcomer.”

Dutch nodded, confirming, “Yes, it was certainly… distracting.”

In a few short moments, he stopped at the entrance to his quarters, turned, and bowed slightly, waving the ladies through the open doorway with his arm.

Alisia brought up the rear, and Dutch observed as she tapped her comm badge, terminating whatever conversation she’d been surreptitiously engaged in. She gave him a meaningful glance, then strode into their quarters behind the Zyyr’kaal-possessed body of D’narius.

Zyyr’kaal glanced around the surroundings with an odd expression on her face. “This place… this place feels…. familiar… safe,” she muttered, almost to herself. Striding over to the lounge area, she took a seat where D’narius used to sit, waiting patiently for Dutch and Alisia to join her. Alisia sat nearby while Dutch went over to the dispenser and asked Janice for a pitcher of cola and three iced tumblers. Bringing the beverage tray to the table, he poured them each a drink, then sat in his usual spot.

Zyyr’kaal absently picked up the beverage and took a sip, a brief look of surprise crossing her features as she enjoyed a refreshment for the first time in ages.

Noting her reaction to the beverage, Dutch asked, “Can I offer you some food? We can keep it simple, but if you’re hungry, I can get you something.”

Zyyr’kaal raised an eyebrow, looking back and forth from Dutch to Alisia, then simply nodded her head once.

Dutch thought about it for a moment, then turned to Janice and ordered a sliced pepperoni pizza and three plates. Passing out the plates, adding napkins, Dutch finally took his seat.

Zyyr’kaal considered the pizza, looking at it, as well as consulting the memories from her host. Eventually, she smiled and picked up the slice, taking a bite and moaning slightly as she chewed it slowly, focusing on enjoying the multiple sensations. The smell, the taste, the texture, and finally, the satisfaction when she swallowed the food.

The three of them ate in near-silence for a time, the only noises being the groans of appreciation from Zyyr’kaal. Eventually, she’d satisfied her desire for sustenance as well as for the experience, and she lifted her attention to her companions.

“This chamber is your inner sanctuary,” she declared after some consideration.

Dutch nodded slowly, silently agreeing with the ancient Battle Master.

“You would willingly bring your enemy within the relative security of your sanctuary? Explain,” she demanded curtly.

“Well, to begin with, it is visually conflicting for me to consider you my enemy while you occupy the body of one of my wives,” Dutch explained calmly, trying to maintain an air of reason while explaining emotional context. “Also, I doubt there’s anywhere on my ship that would be safe from you, should you wish me harm. And finally, as I’ve begun to explain, I’d rather not be your enemy, and I hope to convince you that you don’t have to be mine, either.”

Zyyr’kaal considered him for a long moment, the bright glow in her eyes fading slightly, not appearing as harsh as they’d previously appeared. “Not enemies,” she repeated, as if sampling the taste of the words.

“Not. Enemies,” Dutch repeated emphatically. “In fact, I am here to propose an alliance in fact, based on the fiction that I created with the Treaty. Everything I put in there, I considered to be terms that a reasonable Terran Empire ought to have been willing to agree to, and I’d hoped that the iShan’tal could also be persuaded to agree to as well. I know you have access to the Treaty’s terms through D’narius’ memories, but I can have a physical copy produced for us to review and discuss, if that would be of benefit.”

Zyyr’kaal appeared to consider his words carefully, staring at him oddly for several moments, before she closed her eyes and gave a slight shake of her head. “It was a worthwhile effort, Stonerager. And I believe that you might have prevailed, but for a few facts that make such an alliance all but impossible.”

“I don’t understand,” Dutch protested. “Is there no possibility the Battle Masters will even hear me out?”

“Once, perhaps, but things have changed,” Zyyr’kaal admitted with a frown. “It began toward the end of the war with the Terrans. Those of us who were more invested in the ‘victory’ became more obsessed than ever before, driving our forces with reckless abandon. It was their behavior that drove some of us to seek a peaceful outcome. The others were pushing us to the very brink of disaster, overextending our resources and forces, driving to a final conclusion that was by no means certain. Their desire to win clouded their good judgment, forcing them to commit strategic errors never before seen by the rest of the council. Their pride prevented us from reigning them in. During the final battle, two of our members took direct control of the command units of two of our Dreadnoughts, the Cosmic Vengeance and the Total Annihilation, forcing them to execute the jump-within-jump foolishness, resulting in the complete destruction of Earth. So desperate were they to achieve victory, they sacrificed all of those ships, their crews, and in the end themselves to destroy the Terran home world.”

Zyyr’kaal took another bite of pizza and chewed thoughtfully, her expression changing as her thoughts shifted. Eventually, she continued, “After the passing of Xal’tharoth the Unyielding and Vok’zhul the Harbinger, the rest of the council was… disturbed. Unmoored. We were confronted with an outcome we’d not considered. Our… conclusion.” She paused, reflecting on faraway memories for a moment. “What perhaps should have been considered inevitable was always viewed as something far off in the future. Now… that future was upon us. It was real. And, some of us were ready to move on, while others have, shall we say, resisted entropy.”

“What does that mean? Resisted entropy?” Dutch asked, not sure he liked the direction this conversation was going. It was one thing to contemplate an alliance with a foreboding adversary. It was quite another to find out that the adversary had gone off their rocker.

Zyyr’kaal took the final bite of her pizza, then washed it down with the drink before speaking again. “It means we’re not as immortal as we believed ourselves to be,” she stated flatly. “For some of us, this… conclusion… comes as something of a relief.”

Dutch leaned back in his seat to consider the implications of what Zyyr’kaal was revealing. After a moment, he leaned forward once more. “What is the outcome?” he asked openly. “Are you and the other Battle Masters simply fading away?”

“Some of us already have,” she responded. “Others may as well have. Nyx’tar the Silent Executioner has been closed off, uncommunicative since the end of the war. Threxon the Obliterator refuses to even manifest a presence, ignoring the summons of the council. Kaaz’drak the Infinite Fang left to go on one of his hunts but has not returned. Sundrakk, the Titan of Ruin, just sits on his throne, silent, unresponsive. Orr’vath the Blood-Chained is brooding, restless, but he was one of the few of us looking for an exit strategy, as was Vael’zar, the Dread Sovereign. We few who remain are tired, spent. We seek to bring things to a close. An Ending.” She looked at him directly, a strange glow in her eyes. “And now, I believe our end is upon us at last.”

“And what of the growing challenge from the Noraxi Syndicate?” Dutch asked, wondering whether the Batlle Masters were any longer aware of goings on throughout the galaxy.

“The council is no longer concerned with the rise of new challengers,” she confessed in a dull tone. “Nearly all of our thoughts seem to be turned inward. We have become poor stewards, of that there can be no doubt.”

“What of your military? The ships, shipyards, clones, cloning facilities? Fuck, I can’t even imagine the supply chain elements. All of it? What will happen to that vast iShan’tal presence?” Dutch pondered, his question echoed by Alisia’s nod.

Just at that moment, the Odyssey shuddered once, then again, more violently the second time. Tapping his comm badge, Dutch called out, “Pheebs, report.”

“That was the result of an enormous gravity wave, Captain,” Pheebs responded, a slight edge to her voice. “It came from the binary star, and sensors indicate we will likely encounter more, as the white dwarf is beginning to exhibit end-state instability. We may be looking at a total collapse of the system’s binary. In the event such a failure happens to occur while we are here, the Odyssey is dangerously close. Our shields are already defending us against massive gamma radiation bursts.”

“What do you mean, end-state instability?” Dutch sought clarity.

“The white dwarf partner – the one siphoning mass from the red giant- is pulsating. The gravity waves seem coincidental with the last pulsation. This is perhaps indicative of it approaching its Chandrasekhar limit. Once that threshold is crossed, the white dwarf will erupt in a supernova, destroying itself instantly. At that point, the red giant will suddenly lose its gravitational partner, at which time it will experience a violent shift in structure, collapsing into a neutron star, or worse.”

Deciding that he didn’t need to pull further on this particular thread, Dutch tapped his comm badge, “Pheebs, continue to monitor events closely. Be prepared to jump us to a safe distance if you see the white dwarf bite it.”

Turning his attention back to Zyyr’kaal, a sneaky suspicion suddenly crossed his mind. “Why do I feel like the health of the binary star is directly related to the health of the Battle Masters?”

Zyyr’kaal eyed him silently, but allowed herself a rueful grimace. “You are as astute as this one has assured me,” she replied.

“Zyyr’kaal, I don’t want all of the clones in your service just to die, and I don’t want to think about what might happen if you Battle Masters up and disappear on them, leaving them with no clear path forward,” Dutch reasoned patiently, attempting to negotiate with the ancient intelligence. “You understand my intention with the Treaty, yes? You’re able to consider the benefits to the galaxy of leaving something in place instead of a void? Will you consider – for the sake of all the clones in your hegemony, all the women with such potential, as these in my life – affirming the Treaty, that its terms may guide the future? Let me try to shepherd things forward!”

Zyyr’kaal seemed to sag inward slightly, as if some crushing weight were pressing upon her. She closed her eyes for a few moments, then opened them to paralyze Dutch with a penetrating gaze. “You will be their guardian? Will you see to their future?”

“You have my word,” he declared, matching her gaze unflinchingly. “I will ensure they continue to have a purpose, and will give new meaning to their service.

Zyyr’kaal held his gaze for several moments as the two of them reassessed one another.

The tension in the room was palpable. Alisia shifted slightly, rearranging herself, just in case she should need to move quickly in defense of her bold husband.

**** 1430 Ships Time, Day 70****

“Jjan’tira, what’s that motion in the facilities surrounding the Vorrathis Prime?” Pheebs asked, having seen a sudden change in the aspect of the ships moored around the immense orbiting facilities surrounding the fourth planet.

“It appears that all of the iShan’tal ships are powering up. Some have begun to maneuver toward more open space,” Jjan’tira reported.

“Keep an eye on them,” Pheebs hissed, not liking the looks of things. “If they start heading our way, don’t keep that shit to yourself.”

“The ships appear to be evacuating the facilities,” Jjan’tira speculated. After another moment, she called out, “Confirmed. The first group just jumped away from the system. It doesn’t appear they are moving to engage us.”

From SCI, Carpizzi called out, “I am monitoring a sudden spike in antineutrino emissions from the white dwarf! I think it’s about to nova!”

“Maximum shields!” Pheebs called out. “NAV, plot us a jump away from here and have it ready. HELM, be prepared to jump us the fuck out of here if that white dwarf pops.”

Tapping her comm-badge, “Pheebs to Dutch. Shit’s starting to get interesting up here. I hope you’re making progress.”

“Understood,” he responded. “Stand by.” Her comm badge chirped, confirming the signal had been cut.

“Stand by?” she muttered in annoyance. “Sure, I’ll just sit here eating some popcorn and enjoy the show.”

“Danielli,” she called out, “make sure you’re collecting as much data as you can. Launch probes if you need – I want to know as much as possible about what is happening here, even if we have to review the data later.”

“On it, boss!” the young Rigellian woman replied, as she punched up new commands, resulting in a shower of probes darting off into the chaotic maelstrom that was this miserable system. “Probes away. I’ve got Prime partitioning off a new data dump for this. Telemetry is already pouring in.”

“The coronasphere on the red giant is swelling!” Kaitin called out from her post. She’d been monitoring the binary star for any changes. “The first planet in the system was just destroyed!”

“Come on, Dutch,” Pheebs muttered to herself, “finish whatever the fuck you’re doing. It’s about time for us to be elsewhere!”

*****

“Yes, Unit 792548, that’s what I said,” Zyyr’kaal repeated tolerantly, feeling an unnatural desire to be patient and calm. “By reconfiguring the shield emitters to apply a sticky Higgs boson to the muon neutrino particles that reinforce the radiation barrier of the navigational shields, you will effectively protect the ship from the gravitational stresses the system will undergo shortly as the binary fails.”

“But why don’t we just jump away?” Dutch wondered aloud, not certain he trusted the navigational shields to protect them from a nova or similarly catastrophic stellar event.

“That window is closing rapidly,” she explained, “and I need to be here, in this system, when the white dwarf goes nova, or my existence in this plane might continue.”

“And you’re convinced that would be bad?” Dutch again pressed, not sure that the ancient Battle Master was altogether in possession of her faculties.

“We remaining masters must all pass on together, or others might also be tempted to remain,” she explained carefully, as if to a child, “and THAT, as you say, would be bad. Without the council to temper their, shall we say, more exotic tastes, the galaxy would be a very terrifying place indeed, wherever rogue Battle Masters decided to roam.”

“Modifications are complete,” Alisia announced, having run through several simulations with Prime before actually enacting the changes. “The improved shields are forming up. Radiation levels throughout the ship are reduced, so at least that part is working as advertised.”

Zyyr’kaal raised an eyebrow in an ‘I told you so’ way, before dismissing Alisia’s doubts. “I have no reason to mislead you, Stonerager. I have decided to acquiesce to your request. I agree to the treaty and appoint you as the first head of the Alliance. This information will be broadcast to all surviving iShan’tal vessels. Where do you wish for them to assemble?”

Dutch thought about the question for a moment, before an idea formed. “Mars,” he said, immediately feeling optimistic about his choice. “Order the iSha’tal fleet to assemble over Mars. Peacefully, please. There are surviving humans who’ve been in sub-surface shelters for a century, and I’d like to help them. Plus, there’s no one there to misunderstand the presence of so many iShan’tal ships and react inappropriately.”

The Battle Master gave him an odd look, then closed her eyes for a moment. After less than a dozen heartbeats, she reopened her eyes. “It is done,” she breathed out, as her posture relaxed. “There is but one final thing I would have you do, Stonerager,” she said, rising from the sofa.

Dutch stood with her, wondering what final task she would give him. “And what might that be?”

“This one,” she said, tapping at her chest, “told me of your… sincere apology to her.” Unfastening the collar of her medical attire, Zyyr’kaal let the gauzy jumpsuit fall to her feet. “I find myself wondering if you have equally impressive ways of expressing gratitude?”

Rising to her feet, Alisia started to speak, then reconsidered. “I’m going to check in with the bridge to ensure they’re aware of the shield upgrades.” Turning, she left the chamber, leaving Dutch alone with a very naked Battle Master encased in D’narius’ form.

Ignoring Alisia, the ancient Battle Master stepped carefully to where Dutch stood slack jawed. “Well, Stonerager? Shall we end my existence with one final act of carnal pleasure?”

Dutch could not help himself. D’narius was standing right in front of him, asking him to love her. A tiny voice in his head reminded him that she was not D’narius, but he shushed that voice. He could do this. In fact, he would do this. It was a tiny mercy, and certainly one that this being had earned, after essentially doing all that he could have asked of her.

Dutch took her hand, drawing Zyyr’kaal into another embrace, but this time, he bent down to kiss her. He felt a moment’s trepidation – uncertain if it was on his part, or hers – followed quickly by a burst of hunger. She wrapped her arms around him, deepening the kiss, pouring a savage lust into it as she pressed her nakedness against him.

Dutch released her and began quickly removing his uniform, while simultaneously moving toward the frosted glass doors leading to the sleeping chamber.  Zyyr’kaal kept her arms around his neck, continuing to kiss him as he stripped.

As soon as they reached the bed, she lowered her arms, reaching down to grasp his manhood, her nostrils flaring as her breathing deepened. Groaning with lust, the Battle Master pushed Dutch backwards onto the bed. She was no damsel awaiting his charms. She was a hungry predator, interested in slaking her lust.

As soon as Dutch was on his back, she was upon him. She practically pounced onto his prone form, biting and nibbling her way up his chest as she straddled him, rubbing her oozing quim along his firmness as she once again locked her lips to his. Holding the kiss, her jaw working as her tongue thrust into his mouth over and over again, she reached down to take a firm hold of his member, lining up with her opening, before urgently impaling herself on him.

The ship’s intercom whistled, and he could hear Pheebs calling for him, asking whether or not she could jump away.

Freeing himself for a moment, he called out to the open channel, “Negative! Maintain our position in this system! The modified shields will protect us!”

Zyyr’kaal was a force of lust, humping him with a savagery not usually to his liking, but Dutch found his desire peaking anyway. The ancient Battle Master was groaning loudly as she ground her pussy as hard as she could on him. Deciding he wanted to do more for her, Dutch shifted his legs to roll them over, getting atop the wanton woman. Lifting up one of her legs to allow him to slip even closer, he began to thrust in and out of her at a quicker and quicker pace, until he was hammering away at her.

Zyyr’kaal closed her eyes, her mouth hanging open in a wordless howl. She began to orgasm, and her pleasure was extended briefly as the human male grabbed her tits and gave them a firm squeeze, pinching hard at her nipples, rending a gasp from her. Her back arched and her eyes screwed shut as she let out one long howl, the muscles all along D’narius’ body straining with the effort.

Reaching up, she grasped at Dutch’s head, placing a hand on either side of his face. In his mind, the world exploded into a rapid-fire barrage of kaleidoscopic images, her memories, as scenes from across the vast millennia spanning Zyyr’kaal’s existence paraded themselves through his thoughts like some highlight reel. In an instant, he observed the rise of the iShan’tal from a planet-bound culture to a space-faring race; witnessed how they had encountered their first aliens, and how that encounter had been violent. Afterwards, a series of events sped past, depicting the building of the original iShan’tal forces, the installation of the first council of Battle Masters, and the beginning of an endless series of wars.

At some point, tens of thousands of years in the past, the iShan’tal had begun to transition to non-corporeal beings. Evolution was taking them beyond the need to even interact with corporeal life forms. However, the council held to their commitment to prevent other, lesser races from ever achieving a level of threat, of dominance, such as what they had needed to overcome themselves. Persevering, the Battle Masters devised a scheme to clone any new adversaries, creating armies from their enemies, then using those forces to confront and repel advanced cultures seeking to displace the iShan’tal.

Dutch watched this all between heartbeats, his mind awhirl with the information, as his consciousness was awed and repulsed at the horror of it all. He was paralyzed by the influx of information, unable to react, to judge, to even beg for it to end.

Suddenly, there was a blinding flash, forcing Dutch to throw one arm across his eyes to shield them. Below him, he could feel D’narius’ body quivering, her pussy muscles grasping him forcefully at the height of her climax.

Just as suddenly, D’narius’ body went limp beneath him. The bright light faded, and Dutch was able to lower his arm, blinking away the afterimages clouding his vision, the parade of horror having ceased.

Around him, the ship shuddered, bucking madly for a moment, then settling down, only to buck again. This time, the buffeting continued. The ship’s alarm sounded, and Pheebs was once again on the all-hands circuit. “Captain, the binary pair just failed. The cluster appears to have collapsed inward on itself, gone hypernova, and we are now witnessing the formation of a black hole. The modified shields have thus far protected us from the phenomenal gravitational forces, but I recommend we vacate the area immediately.”

Suspecting the truth of what had just happened, Dutch froze in place, his eyes shut tightly as he felt overwhelmed with emotion. Relief that his ship was unharmed, victorious that his quest to the iShan’tal had met with success, bewilderment at what had just happened to the binary stars as well as the Battle Masters, and finally, despair at not knowing how he would deal with D’narius’ now limp form, having been left lifeless by the Battle Master who had insisted on fucking him with it.

“Get us out of here, Pheebs,” he managed to gasp through the wave of emotions beginning to crash down upon him.

Unbidden tears washed down his cheeks, completely blocking his vision as he wept openly at the wave of despair sweeping over him. His sobbing was building to an animalistic howl of pain when he felt the form beneath him shift.

Hands reached up to caress his cheeks, and a familiar voice spoke. “Husband! Shhh, do not be sad! I am here with you! Everything is alright now.”

Blinking madly to try to clear his vision, he was shocked to look down and behold D’narius returning his gaze, joy in her eyes. “Oh, my god! Dee! It’s really you!” he cried out in dismay.

She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him down to lie atop of her as she held him, soothing him while he was wracked with sobs of joy. Rubbing his back, she continued to comfort him until he eventually regained his composure.

Wiping the tears away from his eyes, he croaked out a single word. “How?”

D’narius sniffed, shrugging her shoulders. “Zyyr’kaal wanted to give you one final gift – a reward for both of us, for having finally provided her with what she needed.”

“An orgasm? That’s all it took to soothe an angry Battle Master?” he half-joked, sniffling as he composed himself. “Someone should have fucked her long ago, if that’s the case!”

Reaching up to rap his forehead with her knuckles, she shook her head. “Not the sex, dear. The maturity of presence, the honesty, and the general caliber of your character gave her hope that you, and others like you, would provide the kind of leadership to the galaxy through the Alliance that would make it a good replacement for the Hegemony.”

The two held one another for many long moments before he began to relax his hold upon her, struggling to pull away.

“Where do you think you’re going, mister?” she whispered softly in his ear. “I am not finished here, and neither are you!”

Pulling him back to her, D’narius began to eagerly buck her hips beneath him, reminding him that he was still sheathed balls deep within her. Mentally shrugging, Dutch reminded himself that his crew was quite capable in his absence and returned his focus to matters at hand.

**** 1900 Ships Time, Day 70****

When Dutch returned to the bridge, leading D’narius along with him, the response was nothing short of ecstatic. His other wives immediately surrounded her, embracing her in a group hug, as the new members of the family cheered, whistled, and applauded from their watch stations.

“What’s our status?” Dutch finally managed to ask, having turned to Doherty when he failed to get a response from any of his wives.

“We jumped away from the Xai’Vorrathi system as it collapsed, and are in an untraveled region of space, close to the Horsehead Nebula,” Justine responded.

“Raise the Stealth Screens, then secure from watch stations. It’s well past time to eat!”

The entire bridge crew moved quickly to secure their watch stations, and Prime assured Dutch she would alert them if anything worrisome were to happen. Leading the women, Dutch proceeded to the galley, already envisioning what needed doing, when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

Slowing down to see who was beckoning him, he was startled to see Danielli pulling him back. “Dutch, go be with your wives. We will prepare dinner.” Rising up on her tiptoes, she gave him a quick kiss, and then she, Kaitin, Jontalla, Engela, and Justine all sashayed past him, moving forward with a purpose.

Shrugging, Dutch held back to rejoin his wives, and they entered the galley to sit, the tables having been rearranged to form one large table. As the five of them relaxed, wonderful smelling food was quickly placed before them, and in no time, the crew was all seated, enjoying a good meal and relaxing.

While they ate, Dutch and Alisia tag-teamed relating their story to the rest of the crew, filling them all in on the various elements of the extended conversation they’d had with the Battle Master. D’narius just sat silently, reflecting on her unique perspective during those events.

When they had completed their tale, Pheebs and the others took their turn to share the details of events that transpired at the same time. They related to Dutch how the multiple iShan’tal vessels had suddenly departed the region, jumping away as the red giant’s coronasphere had grown, consuming the innermost planet.

They told of how the great machine had collapsed in on itself as the binary stars had gone hypernova. The great mosaic of calamitous sight and sound had crumbled before their eyes, collapsing at last into great, silent smudges of light and color, the birth of a new nebula, which would later be sucked into the terrifying maw of the giant black hole that the failed binary had given birth to.

Dutch shook his head, overwhelmed by the enormity of the day’s events. His crew had been on hand to witness the death of a binary star system and the birth of a black hole. And those were the least important of the list of things they’d witnessed or participated in!

Later, while clearing away the remnants of the meal, Dutch overheard the others discussing various things he’d been only partially aware of that had happened while he’d been conversing with Zyyr’kaal.

Returning to the table with a refilled beverage pitcher, he rejoined his women and listened as the conversation continued. He came to learn that Zyyr’kaal’s shield modifications completed a puzzle for Pheebs. His white-haired wife had been working to solve the mystery of the Tao ship in the black hole. For days now, she’d puzzled over how the ship was able to remain within the event horizon, holding in a stable orbit, seemingly unaffected by the massive gravitational forces surrounding it.

The shield modifications that Zyyr’kaal had gifted them, allowing the Odyssey to withstand being in such close proximity to a binary star cluster as it collapsed, were undoubtedly similar to, if not identical to, the means being employed by the Tao ship to survive being deep within the gravity well of the black hole.

Pheebs quickly asked Dutch when they would be able to use their newly modified shields to investigate the Tao ship.

Taking a drink, he considered the matter for a moment before shaking his head. “We’ll have to add it to our ever-growing ‘to-do’ list, I’m afraid. I asked Zyyr’kaal to order the entire remnants of the iShan’tal fleet to assemble in one area, so that we could then meet with them to welcome them to the Alliance.”

“This is going to be one hell of a transition for them,” Jjan’tira noted, shaking her head at the prospect.

“Where did she send them?” Justine asked, wanting to anticipate where they would next need to be.

“I requested that she send them to Mars,” Dutch declared. “I want to make recovering survivors and restoring the planet a priority. I figured, now that we have an abundance of resources, I’d like to begin there. The Odyssey will head to Mars first thing after we’ve rested. I’ve already sent a communication ahead, ordering the iShan’tal fleet to stand down and maintain a watch on the area. I told them to await further instructions, which they will receive tomorrow.”

Stretching, he yawned, saying, “For now, I think we need to rest and recuperate for just a few hours before we take the next step. ‘Cause it’s gonne be a doozie!”

Standing, Pheebs tapped at her glass with a perfectly manicured fingernail to get everyone’s attention. “Before we call it a night,” she began hesitantly, “I have some news that I need to share.”

The others all grew quiet, wondering what else they would learn of this day.

Stepping close to Dutch, she leaned down to whisper softly in his ear, “You are going to make a wonderful father!”

Dutch blinked, not certain he’d heard her correctly. Father? He’d already been one, long ago.

Standing, Pheebs once again addressed the entire group. “While we were going through medical screening back on Methos, it was brought to my attention that I have become infested with a parasite.” The women around the table gasped in shock, not clear on whether or not this represented a new threat, what with their recent encounter with the Tlylaxians still fresh in their minds.

“However,” she continued, “they informed me that the parasite would grow for about nine months, before it exits my body to begin a new life.” Struggling to maintain a straight face, she swept her gaze around the table, seeing all eyes focused on her in trepidation.

Unable to maintain the pretense any longer, she gave in. “I’m pregnant!” she declared with a smile that nearly stretched from ear to ear.

For exactly one heartbeat, it was eerily quiet aboard the Odyssey. Then chaos erupted in the galley as the women all leaped to their feet and rushed to sweep Pheebs up in a group hug.

Dutch sat silently, taking it all in, his thoughts churning at the news. He was going to be a father! He closed his eyes, uttering a silent prayer to whatever higher power might be listening that he be able to do a better job than he’d done last time.

Suddenly, unbidden, his thoughts wandered back to the dinner at Antonio’s on Antares Station, in orbit high above Rigellia, where he’d met his many descendants. It occurred to him that he must have done something right the first time, given all those who’d shared a common lineage with him.

Opening his eyes, he pushed all doubts away and focused on the events happening before him. He vowed to remain present, not allow broader events to distract him this time. Dutch knew that, previously, he’d been consumed by his work. He could see a possible future where that would happen again. He must not permit it to do so.

 A balance would have to be struck. Then and there, he resolved that it would be so.

As the others all continued to fuss over Pheebs, D’narius rejoined him at the table. Leaning close to him, she whispered into his ear, “You’d best get used to this, Stonerager. Not a single woman in this room is going to allow much time to pass before they, too, are carrying a child by you. Mark my words!”

Blinking slowly, Dutch felt the temperature of his face rise slightly as he pondered D’narius’ statement. Turning to meet her lascivious gaze, he leaned in to kiss her before murmuring, “Challenge accepted!”

*****