Rising Warrior-Rising Threat Read online

  “How could I not? I mean, the adventures of a massive barbarian warrior cleaving his way through a fantasy kingdom with a double-bladed battle-ax. It gets me worked up just thinking about it.” She gave Arion a sidelong glance. “I could see you in that loin cloth of his, especially all oiled up.”

  “Only if you put on the slave princess dress.”

  “Don’t tempt me,” she replied. “But I don’t think I could have a deep conversation with Donar.” Alieha stopped and placed a hand on Arion’s chest. “I like that you and I can talk, your brain matches your brawn, and I love that.”

  Arion felt his cheeks flush and looking away realized where they were. “We’re at The Ring.”

  Alieha looked over at the empty pit and at the bottom sat her lost shoe. “So we are.”

  “Let’s go get your shoe,” Arion said and took her hand. He led her down the graded slope to the dirt floor below, drinking in each and every movement. As Arion bent down to pick up her shoe, Alieha took his hand and wrapped it around her before kissing him. They fell back onto the dirt. Arion was glad his outfit wasn’t his as they tore each other’s clothes off. They’d wasted enough time already and made love on the spot.

  UCSB DATE: 1002.291

  Main Hangar, UCSBA-13, Star System: Classified

  Chris couldn’t keep the lid on her fury much longer as their fighter descended on the lift to the main hangar. I can’t believe how much of a complete shit this sortie took. Ever since she and Bichard had started as a pilot/WSO team, they’d proved the benchmark against which other crews measured their own teamwork. Every mission went fantastic, but for some reason this sortie had all gone to Sheol.

  Chris couldn’t even speak to Bichard as they proceeded through their shutdown checklist. Something had distracted him the whole flight. Their missiles were off target, their torpedoes never achieved locks, and his control of their turreted Narfic cannons was abysmal. This mission was a major gunnery test, and he blew it. It wasn’t just the weapon systems, his energy management was non-existent and they lost their shields too many times to count. “What were you thinking big bug?”

  Bichard couldn’t even respond at first, the hum of his antennae singing his shame. “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry isn’t good enough. If this was a real combat sortie, we’d be dead. What happened out there?”

  Bichard shook his head, unable to put the feelings into words. “Something is bothering me.”

  “Well work it out.” Chris snapped.

  “I can’t explain it. It doesn’t make any sense.”

  Chris twisted about in her seat to look at Bichard. “What doesn’t make any sense?”

  “I can’t concentrate. My head feels like it’s in a cloud. It’s been this way for cycles.”

  “Are you sick or something?”

  Bichard shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. But I’ve also felt strangely driven. Perhaps I should go to medical.”

  Chris flopped back into her seat and huffed. “Whatever! Just get it taken care of.”

  The lift pad soon reached their deck. Chris followed the markers to the defueling and disarming station before completing the shutdown procedures. The rest of the squadron waited for them, as they were in the last group to land. Chris was almost too embarrassed to get out of the fighter after how they’d performed. Porc in particular stood waving at them, gloating in his victory during their mock dogfight. “I can’t believe you allowed PORC to get us. PORC!”

  Bichard’s antenna hung in shame as the canopy rose above his head. “To be fair he is a good pilot.”

  Chris spun about as the canopy cleared and leveled a finger at Bichard. “Not better than me!”

  Without another word, Chris jumped down from the cockpit. Still filled with anger, she joined the rest of the squadron for their debriefing. The debriefing itself went as expected, the instructors, Tadeh Qudas and Pio-Tolis, quick to point out Chris and Bichard’s deficiencies.

  Chris couldn’t speak, she was so mad at Bichard. When the debriefing ended, she kept her distance from her WSO.

  Marda caught up to Chris as they headed to the lift tubes to the academy. “Be easy on him Chris.”

  Chris couldn’t believe her ears and gave Marda an incredulous look. “Why? Why should I be easy on him? No one cuts me any slack when I mess up!”

  Marda sighed. “You didn’t hear?”

  “Hear what?”

  “Someone in the medical labs procured some Coretherian Queen pheromones for an experiment. Nobody questioned it since it wasn’t considered toxic. Thing is, there was a containment leak. It’s been spreading throughout the station for a couple cycles now as a result. The atmosphere scrubbers aren’t prioritizing it because it’s not a threat.”

  Chris shot a quick look at Bichard as he trailed the formation. “What are you talking about? I’ve not heard about that at all.”

  Marda pulled Chris aside. “They’re trying to keep it quiet. That stuff isn’t even supposed to be allowed off Corether.” Marda shot a look at Bichard as Gokhead and Rudjick tried to cheer him up. “And they don’t want Bichard knowing because they aren’t sure how he’ll react if he finds out.”

  Bichard’s antenna perked, overhearing Marda, and he rushed up to the pair. “Queen pheromones, here, why?” His chittering question quaked throughout his body.

  Marda made a show of turning around and put on her most comforting smile. She reached out to touch his clacking mandibles and quiet them. “I’m sorry Bichard. I should have told you sooner. But it’s for an experiment someone’s running as part of their thesis.”

  Bichard rubbed his antenna in thought and nodded to Marda before she removed her hand, his mandibles staying quiet. “Maybe I should go and use this as an opportunity to learn how to resist them.”

  Both women nodded and Chris turned a sympathetic eye to her WSO. “That’s a good idea Big Bug. Look, I’m sorry I didn’t realize those pheromones were loose. No wonder your brain is scrambled, you’ve got Gavit brain.”

  Bichard shrugged, a hint of his horrid smile peeking through. “I didn’t really know either. I haven’t encountered them since my escape from Corether.” Bichard had had no contact with his kind since he’d first emerged from the larval stage. His only exposure to his kind was the Coretherian honeys and spices his foster family would receive in trade on their expeditions. He would smell the scents from his home world at those times, but the smell of their old ship always overpowered them. His foster mother always made sure to scrub any pheromones from the air before allowing Bichard onto the ship that they’d named him after.

  Despite their standing out of the main walkway to keep their conversation from interruption, a big Tomeris Cadet stumbled into Chris. In the process, he spilled most of his sticky sweet drink all over her flightsuit and even down her neck ring. “Oh my god, sorry please be excusing me. I need be watching where I be going better.”

  Chris spun about in a rage. Her hair tail slipped free of her flightsuit, its pointed tip coming within a few centimetra of hitting the giant. She was in no mood for clumsy morons invading her personal space, let alone touching her. It took all her self-control to keep from hitting him for spilling his sludgy drink on her.

  The warm sticky fluid flowing under the neck ring of her flightsuit seeped into her underclothes and soaked into the back of her flight suit. “You idiot! You’re not supposed to have open containers on the flightdeck!” she called out before spying his squadron patch, Chertsin’s Commandoes. “Figures you’re one of those fragging idiots! Get the Sheol out of here before I report you!” Chris stood there fuming as the big Tomeris man put the lid back on his drink and sprinted away tothe rest of his squadron.

  Trying to air out the flightsuit, Chris undid the front zipper. Without warning, an unfamiliar noise erupted from behind her. The whole deck seemed to freeze as if listening. The chittering sound was familiar enough, but the squealing squeaks that accompanied it were new. Chris turned to look at Bichard.

  Both she and Marda staggered back as they watched him rise to his full height. The gaps between his exoskeletal plates expanded until he towered above them, his antenna fully erect. His mandibles clacked together in a spastic staccato while the resin from his elbow ports seeped down his arms in an uncontrolled stream. The sight was the stuff of duwn terrors and forced both of them to back away as his normally kind eyes filled with an utterly alien intensity. For the first time, Chris felt a genuine fear of Bichard.

  To their horror, the thin carapace covering his reproductive aedeagus cracked and shattered. His forked aedeagus sprang forth, fully erect. Bichard lunged at Chris and she jumped back, unsure what was going on as he tore at her. He grabbed hold of her flightsuit and tore it, ripping away a huge section of the suit. Chris stumbled back in the low gravity as the whole flightdeck turned to watch. The rest of the squadron raced back to help her.

  Leaping across the flightdeck, Arion, Trevis, and Lindil were the first to arrive. They tackled Bichard to the floor as he stood hulking over Chris, his aedeagus dripping fluid onto the deck. In the low gravity they were like ragdolls to him. It took the three of them along with Zithe, Roilin, Dibtel and Dosher to hold him down as he fought against them. The whole time he sputtered, convulsed, and clacked away in an incoherent rage.

  He continued to slobber and scream at them in the high-pitched Coretherian language as they fought to hold him down. Many had to cover their ears against the squeaking, squealing, clacking torrent of nonsense. It was as if he were possessed.

  Marda tried to push her way past the others to examine Bichard. She didn’t dare dislodge them as they held him down. Chris stumbled back away from him. Arion pinned an arm down after Bichard had worked it free, wicked resin claws tipping it. “Sedate him!” he screamed.
r />   Marda shook her head. All she had was her emergency survival vest which contained no sedatives. She turned and waved one of the medical crash crews over. Chris sat stunned, watching the whole thing, in shock and unable to move as she clutched at the remains of her flightsuit. To her amazement, Bichard managed to lift Trevis from the deck. “Marda duck!” Chris screamed as Bichard flung Trevis towards her.

  Marda dove for the rescue cart as the big Tomeris flew over her head.

  Freed of Trevis, Bichard swiped at Arion. His resin coated claws shredded the front of his friend’s flightsuit, but Arion held fast.

  Blazer dashed over and slid across the deck, slapping his hand onto the fleshiest spot he could find on his old friend. Disgust on his face, he wrapped his hand around Bichard’s aedeagus and discharged. Bichard shuddered and shook violently for a moment under the discharge before he collapsed to the deck; unconscious. The rest of them stood up and looked down at him.

  Blazer stared down at Bichard as he twitched on the deck. “Something is seriously wrong with him.”

  A security detachment ran up, stun rods and binders in hand.

  Blazer turned to them. “He’s stunned. Secure him, but we need to get him to medical, something’s wrong with him.”

  The whole scene brought back memories Chris had long suppressed. It was almost like the duwn that Kerjus had died. Only this time, instead of pulling her off that damned drunk and slapping binders on her, they were snapping them onto Bichard, the sweetest being she’d ever known. She couldn’t even cover her eyes as Marda ran up, a medical scanner in hand.

  Marda ran the handheld device over the length of his body twice before she scanned his head and backed away in horror. She shot a look to Chris, then to Blazer. “His Galdrick, it’s pumping.”

  Everyone on the team went silent in fear. Chris got to her feet a moment later, pulling together the tattered remains of her flightsuit to cover herself. Unable to believe it, she ran up to look at the scanner. The two women locked eyes and Marda ran the scanner over Bichard’s head again to confirm her findings.

  “It’s pumping. Something must have set off his pheromone reaction, but what? Those pheromones that were released couldn’t be that strong, could they?”

  Chris looked down at her torn flightsuit and the sticky fluid splattered across her and it. She turned to look over at Chertsin’s Commandoes as they gathered near the briefing pad, a few covering the sickening smiles on their faces. “That storel bastard! This sludge is pure Coretherian Queen pheromones”, Chris growled and turned to confront them.

  Zithe held up his hand to stop her. Chris was in no state to deal with them. “I’ll handle it. Take care of yourself and Bichard,” he ordered and waved to the security detail to follow him as he marched towards the other squadron.

  Chris turned back towards Bichard, doing her best to hold her flightsuit together. The hint of shame creeping into her, almost brought her rage to a boil. She could worry about betraying her heritage and exacting revenge on those that had hurt Bichard later. She had to see to him. “What about his Simpcam?”

  Marda scanned the other side of Bichard’s head. “It’s swelling.”

  Chris took a deep breath, she couldn’t panic, not now. Bichard’s Simpcam was undersized compared to most Coretherian Drones, at least so he’d told her. If it was still swelling then it wasn’t yet ready to discharge. Once that happened it would flood his body and brain with a preservative neurotoxin. Once it disabled him, it would dissolve his exoskeleton making him edible to a mated queen.

  Clear purpose in her eyes, Marda turned to the medical team as they waited with the grav stretcher. “We can’t waste any more time. We have to get him into surgery, now!” She tapped the side of her head as she stepped away to let the medics get to work.

  Dr Sares came over the group link a moment later as the medics strapped Bichard to the grav stretcher.

 

  Dr Sares let out a concerned whistle over the link.

  Marda’s eyes went wide in response as the medics hoisted the grav stretcher off the deck and ran towards the lift platform. She raced after them.

 

 

  Chris ran along with the medical team and watched his body begin to return to normal. He twitched with each passing moment. Across from her, Marda pulled a sedative from the stretcher’s kit. Chris noticed everyone they passed staring at his massive engorged aedeagus. Upon reaching the lift platform, she pulled the space blanket from beneath the grav stretcher to cover him up. It wasn’t your fault my Bichard.

  Chris looked over as Chertsin’s team before the lift descended. What were those idiots thinking? How did they think Bichard would react? Did they really want him to rape me to death, or was this just some stupid prank gone bad? She couldn’t be sure as Zithe, with Tadeh Qudas, Chief Flind, and a contingent of security officers confronted Chertsin and his team.

  Standing there in the tattered remains of her flightsuit, she felt more naked than she’d ever been. She looked back to the tented sheet sh’d thrown over his aedeagus and shuddered. It was one of the most wicked-looking things she had ever seen. She tried not to imagine what it would do to her insides. For the first time she could remember, she felt ashamed of her body and just wanted to hide somewhere.

  She flinched when a hand touched her shoulder but turned to find it was Marda. “Chris, we have Bichard. Once we reach groundlevel, I need you out of here and cleaned up. Get to a decon booth and wash those pheromones off.”

  She broke from Marda’s eyes and nodded, just staring at Bichard. A moment later a blanket fell across her shoulders. When she looked it up, it wasn’t Marda there, but Gavit, that stupid, cocky reassuring smile on his face. “There’s a private nano-decon shower not far from this lift. I’ll get you there.”

  Operating Room 1, UCSBA-13

  This was not a situation Marda had ever hoped to find herself in. Standing in the operating suite across from Dr Sares, they examined the opened back of Bichard’s skull. She stared in fascinated horror at the fatty, gelatinous mass of brain and the two oversized glands at its base, near his spinal cord. Dr Sares shook his head as he probed at the Galdrick gland. It pumped away like a buzz-bird’s heart, transforming the otherwise calm and collected Bichard into a sex-crazed monster. “Cadet, how much Coretherian physiology have you studied?”

  Marda shook her head. There wasn’t much data available on Coretherian physiology and finding data not based on Bichard himself was even more difficult. “Not much I’m afraid. I’ve studied the little bit that’s out there but...”

  Dr Sares nodded. He’d had the same problem. “Well is it just me or does this Galdrick look undersized and shriveled to you too?”

  Marda bent around to look. The gland looked oversized to her, pumping away and filling his brain with chemicals shutting down the forebrain and the logic centers there. She shook her head. “It looks pretty healthy to me.”

  “No, look at these wrinkles along the sides of it. This was shrunken and atrophied before it got set off. Moreover, from the little research I’ve uncovered, Coretherian drones tend to mate right after their final molting. That’s around eight annura old or so. At that point, once presented to a queen, the Galdrick goes off due to the pheromone response and they turn into a more than willing mate for the queen. Once it’s done, that one comes to life.”

  Marda looked down at the Simpcam gland: it had swelled up, but it lay silent and motionless for now. She had no idea what would cause it to spring to life. For now, their focus remained on the Galdrick gland. The anesthesiologist pumped sedatives into Bichard’s twitching body, the Galdrick neutralizing the sedative almost as fast as they administered it.