In the tradition of the original "Star Trek", I thought it would be fun to explore an Angels "mirror universe", where everyone and everything is different, yet the same. No story device better for exploring what could have been.
It'll probably run about 4-6 parts. Let me know what you think.
Demons 2200
PART 1
Bathed in the light from the distant Sun, the silhouette of the TIS Outcast was still difficult to make out. Her black hull seemed to swallow the light, causing it to blend into the surrounding darkness of space. Only the gold panels that flanked the bridge returned some portion of the sunlight it received. On each was marked the sapphire crest of the Terran Galactic Imperium; a swirling galaxy pierced by three long spears and crowned with a large circle-and-cross. The shadows of gun turrets and missile launchers lurked menacingly along her sides. Having recently been refitted at Her Majesty’s Lunar Shipyards, the Outcast was now in possession of some of the latest weapon upgrades, including the experimental Omicron-class slicers. They had not yet been battle-tested when her mission had begun, but the recent fight with the rebels had proved their effectiveness more than adequately. Not far from the dark vessel, the debris from the destroyed Risae Colony drifted, slowly scattering away to join the rest of the asteroid belt. Also littering the field were the remains of both imperial and congregant fighters. The Outcast has lost two squadrons during the assault, reducing its fighter compliment by forty percent. However, such losses were not uncommon and easily replaceable. With the rebellious colony neutralized, the Outcast was poised to move on to Europa, joining the efforts there to reclaim the outer system jumpgates.
Admiral Robin Kurosawa watched the drifting hulks and fragments of rock from her office, her countenance unmoved by the scene. Her crimson uniform was standard for her rank, but the same could not be said for the katana that hung sheathed at her left hip. It was mostly ceremonial, yet also quite functional if the need should arise. A pair of brown eyes gazed coldly from beneath long, straight ranks of jet-black hair. With her hands clasped behind her back, she seemed lost in thought, starring light-years beyond the destruction laid before her.
A soft door chime broke the silence of the room, and the Admiral responded without turning.
“Enter.”
With a soft swish the gray doors parted, revealing a woman dressed in the standard, dark blue uniform of an imperial officer. With her abundance of blonde hair tied back in a tight bun and a set of war-weary blue eyes, she looked much older than she was. Her attire was form-fitting but comfortable, with an opening near the top of her bosom, cut in a shape that was more threatening than alluring. This made visible the tattooed rank on her left breast: two simple silver crescents. At her right hip hung a fighting knife, also a typical piece of equipment for officers. As she entered her CO’s office, her black boots clanking on the metallic floor, a swift mechanical motion sounded from her immediate right. In an instant, a red dot appeared on the officer’s temple, held more steadily than any human could accomplish. A male voice, low and unfeeling, crept out from the shadows beyond.
“State your business with the Admiral.”
“Stand down, Lance,” Kurosawa said calmly as she turned to regard her visitor. “Lieutenant Martines is here at my command.” Lance stalked out from the darkness, his right eye shining red as he made his way to his mistress’s side. His robotic form was only partially covered beneath his clothing, showing hints of the thick armor and weapon systems lying within. Convinced of no immediate threat, his right arm and hand reconfigured itself, changing from a blaster back into its original, five-fingered mode. As the Admiral sat at her desk, Martines bowed in respect.
“You ‘ave orders for me, My Lady?” came a young but confident voice, the ghost of a French accent still lingering in her words.
“Yes,” the Admiral stated as she leaned back in her seat. “I transmitted my report on our success to the imperial palace two days ago. The Empress herself sent a reply this morning. She wanted to extend her personal congratulations to you and your squadron. The Icebreakers’ performance was exemplary during the recent engagement. You should be proud.”
The squad leader bowed once more. “Both ‘er Majesty and My Lady ‘onor me.” The Admiral’s lips flinched towards a predatory grin. Grabbing a computer pad from her desk, she tossed it to her subordinate.
“Here are new orders for fighter status during our next mission. Please take them to the CAG and confirm that she receives them.” Martines’ neutral expression faltered.
“Wouldn’t the Admiral prefer, for ‘er own convenience, to transmit the orders directly?”
“
This way is my convenience, Lieutenant” the Admiral replied, her tone icy. After a moment of hesitation, Martines nodded.
“As you wish, My Lady. Is there anyzing else?”
“Kindly check up on O’Reilly sometime this afternoon,” Kurosawa said pleasantly. “Tell her I expect a full confession by tonight. Based on yesterday’s events, these rebels must have a second informant onboard and I want to know who it is. Dismissed.”
“Yes, My Lady,” Martines said before taking a final bow. She turned and left the office, her pace swift and purposeful. As the doors slid shut, Kurosawa turned to her bodyguard.
“Your analysis, Lance?”
“No obvious signs of deception, mistress. Vital readings steady. She is loyal to you.” The Admiral folded her hands in front of her.
“We shall see.”
The rec center of the Outcast was crowded and boisterous following their recent victory at Risae. Female marines and pilots alike reveled in free-flowing beer and entertainment. The ship’s sexbots were now on 24-hr operation in order to meet the demand for their services. Over nine of the artificial men were clustered in the rec room alone, slavishly attending the most senior officers, as was the privilege of rank. As Martines entered, her gaze scanned the room, looking for familiar faces and trying to recall which friends had died from the decimated Polaris and Endgame Squadrons. A whistle sounded above the din, and Martines looked to see a woman waving from the far side of the room. Making her way over, she passed a drunken bout of darts in-progress by a group of five marines. Giggling, one of them backed up suddenly, slamming into Martines and almost knocking her over.
“Hey!” Martines barked, “Watch where you’re going!”
“Eh, calm down and lighten up, bitch,” the marine shot back gleefully with slurred speech, not even turning around. “It’s a party!”
With a flash of steel, Martines’ knife shot out from its sleeve and came to rest upon the marine’s throat. The rest of the group became deathly quiet, their faces now sobered by the sight before them. Other personnel nearby looked over at the commotion, but did nothing to interfere.
“What did you call me, soldier?” Martines asked quietly into her victim’s ear. The marine suddenly looked like she was about to vomit. Her brief attempt to struggle out of the officer’s grip was met with a vicious stinging feeling. A small trickle of blood now wandered lazily down her neck.
“I-I-I- I’m sorry, ma’am,” the marine stuttered. “I d-d-d-didn’t know you were an officer.”
“Please, ma’am,” the ranking marine of the group pleaded. “You can tell she’s shit-faced right now. She wasn’t thinking.”
“Zomething you grunts are famous for,” Martines spat back. Tightening her grip, she spoke quietly and firmly to her captive.
“We’ve already lost enough daughters of the Imperium this past mission.” Her blade then lowered to threaten the marine’s exposed rank tattoo. “But if you
ever inzult me again. I may ‘ave to… demote you. Am I clear?”
“As crystal, ma’am,” the marine assured her. Martines then shoved the woman back towards her comrades, continuing on her way without another glance. The silent witnesses about them quickly returned to what they had been doing before the confrontation. As Martines reached her destination, the woman sitting at the table raised an intrigued eyebrow.
“My, my, someone’s in a bad mood today.”
The woman wore a similar uniform to Martines’ own, but her tattoo displayed three crescents topped with a gold bar. Her brown hair was broken into a vast array of thin, tight braids that reached down to her shoulders. Her hazel eyes smiled at the sight of Martines, and she caressed the empty portion of the bench she occupied, inviting the pilot to join her. Martines breathed a sigh and sat. Immediately, the woman wrapped her left arm around the Frenchwoman’s waist. Even after knowing the woman for so long, it was difficult for Martines to not recoil in disgust from the appendage, which was made of wires and steel instead of flesh and bone.
“It’s been a hard mission, ‘ammer,” Martines remarked sadly.
“True,” Hammer replied thoughtfully, “But we did what we set out to do, right Kid? We proved ourselves to the Admiral… and to the whole Imperial Navy for that matter. Who’s going to discount us now as ‘cannon fodder’?”
“A high cost to pay for notoriety,” Kid muttered softly.
“As well as honor and respect,” Hammer added sternly. “I heard the Admiral called you to her office.” Hammer’s gaze assumed a look of humor mixed with jealousy. “Did she desire some kind of… appreciation for approving your recent promotion?” Martines rolled her eyes.
“Please, ‘ammer, I ‘ear zat Lance gives her all the appreciation she needs. No, it was the Empress’s appreciation she wanted to give me, along with your orders.” As Martines retrieved and handed over the small computer pad, she felt Hammer’s mechanical grip tighten. With a very human right hand, Hammer took the pad and scanned over its contents. Her expression initially became one of concern, but after she finished reading and turned back to Martines, it regained its former look of kindness.
“I see what the Admiral’s up to. She doesn’t want me to feel too comfortable in my position as CAG, so she sets you up as my potential replacement… and she wants me to know it.” Leaning towards her, Martines felt Hammer’s tongue trace her ear, the pressure of the robotic hand moving over her thigh.
“Our Lady is trying to force us to be rivals for her own security,” Hammer cooed softly. “But nothing comes between us, right Kid?” Martines forced herself to smile.
“Nothing, ‘ammer. You know that.”
As Hammer pulled her closer, Kid took the cue and rested her head against the cold steel of Hammer’s left shoulder. Glancing upward, her eyes caught the gruesome sight resting on a top shelf behind the nearby bar. Carefully cleaned and stuffed, the head of Captain Jennifer Forbes, formerly CAG aboard the Outcast, starred eternally into oblivion with vacant eyes. Martines swallowed. A “prank war” they had come to call it. Funny how deadly jokes could become. Martines glanced at her friend with sad eyes.
“What is it now?” Hammer asked, slightly annoyed.
“Nothing,” Kid replied. “I just want this war to be over soon.” Hammer herself then looked up at the grim trophy on the high shelf, a flash of pride sweeping over her face.
“By tears or by blood, Kid, it will be.”
END PART 1
Vexus
