The Last Frontier
by: Marina Twelve and Tom R. 

Retribution   part III

 

Captain Anderson was a good as his word. At his urging, the Irindi & Antaries Transport Company had given now Ex Captain Leslie Webber full access to their Salvage operation on the moon of Hobart’s Planet in the Aphrian system.

Leslie Had saved The company a year previously when (Then) ‘He’ rescued one of their ships and its valuable cargo from a fleet of Syndicate Raiders.

This was before Leslie’s betrayal and capture, by Syndicate operatives, and his being changed into a WOMAN, to serve as an "example" as to what could become of other Space Command officers who did their job "too well".

Leslie, due to an archaic military regulation, could no longer serve as a starship Captain because of her sex. She resigned her commission in disgust and decided to find her OWN ship, from which she could wage war on the nefarious organization that had ruined her life, family and career.

The A&I Transport Company agreed to return Leslie the favor. She could have any starship she wanted from their salvage yard, which were mostly damaged or wore out hulks from private or military sources, and all of the parts necessary to repair and recondition it.

Leslie was accompanied by Her former first officer Melissa Connor. On her previous Ship, the "Proteus", Commander Conner was, in effect, "Co-Captain" as it was part of the military strategy to use a Man /Woman team to head the command structure. Thus the "stronger" aspects of both the male and female mind could be utilized in command decisions.

It was, the MALE, however, who had the final word. Since Leslie no longer could Captain in such an arrangement, she quit the Terran Confederation Space Command.

Melissa had also had some difficulties. Along with Leslie, she too, had also been captured by the Syndicate.

Konstantin, the "faceless" leader of the organization, did not want Melissa to escape her share of the punishment either. He thought that it would be sadistically amusing to permanently remove Melissa’s capacity for emotion.

She would never know joy, happiness or Love ever again. Though the rest of her mind would remain intact. She would be reduced to a cold machine!

What Konstantin didn’t think about though, was the fact that Melissa would also loose her negative emotions. Without fears and inhibitions or the clouding effects of hate or anger, her already brilliant mind became released from emotional concerns. It was capable of, and indeed, DRIVEN to do ANYTHING that it felt, in a given situation, MUST be done. One of those things was the destruction of Konstantin himself and his organization.

It was not out of hate or a desire for vengeance. Melissa could no longer feel such things, but purely a result of her logic, that demanded that Konstantin should not be allowed to hurt other people ever again. Purely and simply, Konstantin WILL have to be eliminated.

Konstantin thought that he was handicapping Melissa, but instead enhanced both her drive and ability to destroy him. He had unwittingly created a formidable foe.

Leslie, on the other hand, felt sorry for her friend, even though Mellissa didn’t feel sorry for herself. She didn’t feel ANYTHING. Leslie swore on that fact alone, despite what had been done to herself, that she would personally Kill Konstantin for what he had done to Melissa.

Melissa’s doctors warned Leslie that it would not be wise to make Melissa part of her crew. She wasn’t a "Mr. Spock" as portrayed in the Classic Television Videos of two centuries previous.

Where Spock had feelings that he controlled, Melissa truly had none. Her "clean logic", which was, in reality, only as good as her data, might very well lead to a dangerous overconfidence. This, combined with a drive to do "what needed to be done" could be a hazardous combination indeed. For that reason Melissa was discharged from the Space Command on Medical Grounds.

Leslie didn’t care about what the doctors said. Melissa was still her friend, and since Leslie blamed herself for her condition, she would let her be a part of the new crew. Perhaps Melissa would be the very edge she needed to defeat the Syndicate.

 

The Shuttle craft descended from the transport and proceeded to the Moon of Hobart’s planet. The small vessel dodged orbiting bits of debris and various elements from discarded spacecraft that circled the small planetoid. Finally, the craft set down upon the roof of the command center and connected to the airlock.

Both Leslie and Melissa, dressed in their skin-tight, dark-blue pressure suits, descended the spiral steps.

The place seemed cramped, dirty and empty. At first, they appeared to be the only living persons there.

 

A black man, about 40 years of age and of medium build greeted the two women in the reception area. Leslie repressed a gasp when she realized that the man was not wearing the latest in fashionable headgear. The entire right half of the man’s skull seemed to be made of a shell of shiny metal. The ends of several small computer cards protruded from slots that obviously went INTO the poor man’s head.

Still, Leslie forced a smile.

"Greetings Ladies", The man said with a friendly grin. "Ashley Bainbridge at your service."

"Leslie Webber, and this is my colleague, Melissa Cordell."

"Yes, there is nothing like the presence of a couple of lovely creatures such as yourselves to brighten up the otherwise dreary confines of my little world."

 

Bainbridge noticed that Melissa was not responding as expected to his greeting.

"Miss Webber, is there something I should know about your companion?"

"The Syndicate took away her emotions It’s. . ."

 

"I can speak for myself, Leslie."

 

"No need to elaborate," Bainbridge interrupted, "as you can see, I too have had my own unfortunate encounters with the Syndicate. Luckily, through the miracle of electronic bio chips, The doctors were able to rebuild the parts of my brain that were damaged in the beating. Of course, I have since added a few upgrades of my own."

 

"I take it that Captain Anderson has informed you as to why we are here."

"Yes, he thinks that I might be able to find you a small starship as a favor to him. But quite frankly, all I can offer you are pieces. This is a dismantling yard after all."

Bainbridge led them to his "office". It was a small, dark room with a centrally located "control panel". There were several flat com screens, mounted on bracket arms, pointed in different directions. It reminded Leslie of the bridge of a small star ship. Indeed that is likely where the equipment came from in the first place.

Bainbridge began to brief the Women about the operation.

"You mean to say that we are the only people on this moon?" asked Leslie with some surprise.

"Yes." Bainbridge replied. "The gantries are all automatic and I control them here. The lifting ships that carry off the parts to other locations in the yard, are also remotely controlled. Believe it or not, this is entirely a one-man operation."

"So we are going to have to build a new starship from the ground up? And do it ourselves?"

"That is your only option." Said Bainbridge "Any ship they bring in here is beyond repair. We can set up gantry two for the project."

Leslie thought for a moment. " As to design, we will need something small enough for a small crew to operate, but large enough to carry enough weaponry to fend off the biggest syndicate raider/enforcer ships."

"What we can actually build will depend upon what parts we have available." Bainbridge remarked.

Bainbridge looked at the com screen near his desk, and pressed his fingers along different parts of the graphics. A list came up.

 

"We will start with the armaments and then construct a platform to carry them." Said Bainbridge as he scanned the list. "Let’s see. Hmmm, slim pickings. We only have a couple of point five meter photon cannons."

"Only two standard point fives?" Said Leslie indignantly. "I need a forward array of at least four to have any chance against a syndicate ship."

Relax, I have a one point five meter photon cannon we can use for the forward weapon. That should be sufficient.

"A one point five!" Leslie’s eyes lit up. "At close range one of those things can penetrate a level five shield. Where the hell did you get it?

"It came from a Space Command heavy battle cruiser." Bainbridge replied. "Some bureaucrat in charge of the salvage operation miscounted the guns and came up one short. Now, we won’t be able to turret mount it. A smaller ship could only carry it in a fixed forward position. Would that be OK?"

"You bet your a . . ., Oh sorry!" replied Leslie a bit over enthusiastically. " Sure, that will be fine"

A Graphic Image of the gun formed on the large, wall mounted com screen.

 

"We can mount the point fives on turrets above and below to protect the flanks and supplement the forward weapon if necessary." Two turret guns appeared on the screen. Leslie moved them with the computer controls until they looked like they were in the correct positions. The weapons system was taking shape.

"We also have a point seven five." Said Bainbridge

"The point seven five can be installed facing rear." Leslie replied. "That could be a nasty surprise for someone expecting to face the usual single point five."

She now studied at the weapons graphics on the screen. "Not bad, "she remarked. Fairly well defended, and a good aggressive edge. I wouldn’t go up against more than two enforcers with it though."

Leslie’s weapons savvy impressed Bainbridge. He leaned back in his chair. "Leslie, If I may call you that, do you want to be able to do some REAL damage?

Having a good defensive weapons system is one thing, but if you are like me you will want to REALLY kick some syndicate ass."

"I am all ears. What have you got in mind?"

 

 

All three crammed themselves into Bainbridge’s small shuttle craft. After he strapped himself into his seat, Bainbridge removed a small, silver computer chip card from his shirt pocket. Leslie watched in wonderment, and a bit of horror as Bainbridge pulled another such "card" out of its slot in the side of his HEAD and plugged in the new card.

"What the heck was THAT about." Leslie commented

"My shuttle pilot skills" Said Bainbridge as he stuck the other card back into his pocket. "That’s ONE advantage to having half a head full of silicon. I can plug in various skills that I might need from time to time. I can be a Pilot, Musician, Chemist, Lawyer, you name it. If I got the card for it, I can do it."

He started up the ship and flew several Clicks to another section of the yard. Atop the piles of debris, lying on its side, loomed a large, metal cylindrical object, some fifty feet in diameter and over three hundred feet long.

 

"There it is ladies!", said Bainbridge proudly. "Your ace in the hole."

"Leslie," Melissa spoke up, "It’s a QUELL tube!"

 

"A Quark accelerator! On a starship! You can’t be serious Bainbridge." Said Leslie. "That’s part of a planet based power plant. It would take up half the interior of our ship."

"Quells are highly unstable and very dangerous." Added Melissa. "The technology was banned over a decade ago after a quell plant malfunctioned and destroyed the moon on Aldebarn four. Since then all quell plants have been taken off line and dismantled."

" Well, this one was sent here for dismantling, but I have never gotten around to it. As far as I know, it is still functional."

"But our antimatter reactors are a lot smaller and more practical for starship power requirements." Leslie replied.

I didn’t say that we were going to use the Quell to POWER the ship." Bainbridge replied. "If the front cowling and the wave-guides are removed, it can be turned into a one hell of a weapon.

"He is right." Said Melissa "The quark stream emitted would actually split the nuclei in the atoms of whatever it was pointed at."

"It would induce self sustaining fission reaction that will propagate itself throughout the entire mass of the target."

"With its fifteen meter bore," Melissa continued, " I would guess that it could destroy a small planet."

 

Bainbridge lay back in his seat and smiled. "Like I said, ladies--- K I C K A S S ! "

 

Grandiose visions of apocalyptic destruction began to swim through Leslie’s head, but common sense and reason soon began to re-assert themselves. "From what I have heard about quells, we could very well end up kicking our own asses."

"Not to worry," Said Bainbridge " I was working on software to control quell stability. I think I solved the problem, but THEN they were banned before I had a chance to introduce it. My work was for nothing, then, but now, perhaps, it might be useful."

"What do you think, Melissa?" asked Leslie

"I think that it’s much too powerful to be a practical weapon. It is capable of destruction on a planetary scale. Using this against a starship would be like using a photon cannon to kill a flea. It would likely take us out in the blast also."

"Well it would work at longer ranges, "Leslie countered. " NOTHING could stand against it. If anything, it would be good for intimidation. Daddy always said that people are very co-operative when they are looking down the barrel of your greener."

"Greener?"

" A double barrel ten gauge scatter gun. It has settled many an argument in both the old American West and the earlier days of planetary colonization."

"It’s your call Captain, " replied Melissa. "I can summarize my opinion in one word —O v e r c o m p e n-

s a t i o n"

Leslie looked over at Bainbridge "Let’s DO it!"

 

On the planning screen, the Quell lay parallel to the one point five, also facing forward. Leslie had been initially correct. The Quell WOULD take up nearly half the ship. It was offset to the starboard side to help balance the mass of the jump engine system. The hull would have to be built around it.

The ship itself would be ugly and unsymmetrical. It would be, basically, a, 500-ft long, flattened horizontal cylinder, some one hundred twenty feet wide and fifty high. There would be a hump running long ways down the hull to accommodate the diameter of the Quell. Two gun turrets, holding the point fives would be roughly centered on the flat surfaces of the hull above and below. The ends of the hull would slope together, giving a slight streamlined effect. Save for the chrome edges of the Quell tube, and the white turrets, the ship would be painted black.

"Your ship needs a name" Said Bainbridge.

Leslie thought about it for a few moments. "How about what it represents?---Vengeance!,---No make that a little more picturesque, "Retribution!" Yes, that’s what we will call her --- RETRIBUTION! Pay back!"

 

The Women were given rooms a short distance from Bainbridge’s office. Like the rest of the facility, they were small and dirty, but they would do. Hopefully, they would soon have their own quarters aboard their new ship.

They had very little to do. Bainbridge was the only person who knew how to work the lifting ships and the gantries. He kept busy assembling the pieces. Save for the hull plates, the construction consisted of simply plugging together the various parts and modules.

Leslie decided to sharpen up her personal weapon’s skills. She found that she could still shoot her sidearm as well as she ever could. Her wrists were still strong enough to absorb the recoil without affecting her aim. Melissa, however told her to "loose the combat knife."

"Look at me, Melissa! I an as good as you in weaponless combat, but I am still only a WOMAN! Any reasonably strong man with half my skills could overpower me." The very thought of that reality made her curse under her breath. She had been used to being able to hold her own in a fight with any opponent.

"I need my KNIFE now more than ever!"

Melissa looked at her and said "You don’t need THAT Knife. Use this one instead. I made it for you in the shop."

Melissa handed Leslie the weapon.

It had a long, flexible, thin, stainless steel blade. It was hardly wider than an Ice pick and terminated in a sharp point. The handle was little more than rubberized tape wrapped around the blunt end.

"Why it’s a Shiv!" Leslie observed.

"Yes, Easily concealable, along your leg, arm or the small of your back."

"But that’s a coward’s weapon!"

"Look, Leslie, you yourself pointed out a woman’s weakness. You need to turn that weakness into your advantage. You are still holding to the male philosophy of combat."

"Combat is combat!" You fight, the better opponent wins." Leslie replied.

"The male fights primarily by intimidation. — He postures and exaggerates his imposing size. He displays his weapons, such as his guns and his knifes. His philosophy and attitude is to drive or frighten away potential opponents. Only the occasional fool or the strong "warrior type" who thinks that he may be able to overpower his adversary would dare attack in the first place. To a male, fighting is a mixture of "repelling force" and aggression."

"A woman on the other hand, attempts to draw her opponents inward, rather than frighten them away. Her sexual attraction and appearance of vulnerability both work together to that effect. Both aspects should be emphasized. No intimidating or provocative weapons, such as the knife should be visible. You draw IN an opponent and present no threat. He THEN has no reason to feel a need to defend himself. By the time you slip the shiv under his ribcage and skewer his heart, it is too late for him to react. Much stronger opponents can be easily vanquished that way."

Leslie thought about what Melissa told her. It began to dawn on Leslie that women use similar techniques and principles in areas other than hand to hand combat. "Son of a gun!" she commented as she remembered "his" younger days. She couldn't count the many times when some woman had played him for a sucker. "It should have been obvious all along.

"Yes, draw them in and spring the trap!"

It would be an interesting approach to play around with, especially NOW, when she could set her own traps with the perfect bait.

"But there is one ‘sticky point’ in such a defense" Leslie noted. "The attractive approach attracts MORE attackers"

"Both The Male and Female technique have their weaknesses.", Melissa Replied. "In the male approach, you have fewer attackers, but those DO are usually the stronger ones who have a chance of defeating you."

"The Female method, does indeed attract more assailants, but all might be as easily vanquished regardless of their superior physical strength."

"Neither approach is necessarily superior to the other, Leslie, but you MUST make sure that you learn to fight in the mode that you are best physically suited for."

"I see your point, Melissa." Leslie said as she examined the shiv. "Are you going to show me how to use this thing?"

Melissa, like a magician, seemingly produced another shiv out of thin air. "This is ONE of my own."

"How long have you been packing THAT?" asked Leslie.

"I always have, even before our most unfortunate encounter with the syndicate." Melissa replied. "It’s hidden in the seam of the sleeve of my pressure suit.

"Melissa, I never expected . . ."

"The first rule is NOBODY knows that you are armed."

"Then why did you let those syndicate thugs destroy your emotions?"

"I was rendered unconscious in the battle. They had already done the damage before I had recovered. I WAS NOT raped however and I did manage to steal a small shuttlecraft and escape. I only needed to kill three of them. I was out of their reach before they new I was missing.---But that is another story."

"The second rule," Melissa Continued, " is that no one sees you pull it out. If you victim sees it, he likely can disarm you. It also makes them very angry. As often as not they will give you a taste of your own steel."

"The Third rule, Always carry a spare!" Another weapon appeared in Melissa’s left hand. She passed it to Leslie. "Here this is yours too!"

"This is a one chance weapon. Your first strike must be lethal or your advantage is lost. You insert it immediately under the left side of the ribcage and drive it upward and into the center of the chest. From the back it is inserted at the center of the left side of the ribcage and driven inward and to the center."

Melissa’s cool and clinical approach to such a subject made Leslie feel uneasy. The impression was that the woman could kill another human being quickly and easily and with no more concern than stepping on a bug.

Leslie was glad that Melissa was "on HER side", but Leslie also knew that anyone could find themselves on the wrong end of Melissa’s blade if she thought that they stood in the way of her objectives. She was "loyal" to no one.

Melissa instructed Leslie in the techniques of hiding and surreptitiously withdrawing and the shiv. She had to stress that it was NOT a weapon to be pointing and threatening with. Leslie still was thinking in terms of Knives. It slipped out , did its dirty work, and that was it.

Leslie also had to learn how to be more "attractive" or "Inviting" She had avoided this aspect of herself since the beginning. The last thing she wanted was to attract a MAN.

SHE was a "Man" herself, at least mentally, and had no desires to encourage any more attention than she already did from members of that sex. The rape did little to improve that attitude.

Nevertheless, Melissa encouraged Leslie to "loosen up" and not look so militarily "stiff" and imposing. Leslie’s hair should be allowed to hang down and fall freely down her back. The bun would go. She was no longer a space command officer.

Leslie was encouraged to "Smile more" even though She felt that it made her "Look like an airhead". But all of this would be part of her defense, part of her advantage. She had LOST her "manly advantages" and it made little sense to continue to behave as if they still existed. To be the most she could be meant developing what NEW advantages her female form had given her.

 

From time to time, they would look in on Bainbridge and watch the "Retribution" take shape on the gantry two view screen. By now the components were in place, and Bainbridge’s robots were welding the hull plates into place.

 

 

"Bainbridge", asked Leslie, "Its about time we find a crew.

"You will need an engineer"

"And who do you recommend?" Leslie replied. She knew what his answer would be.

"Myself. You won’t find anyone who knows this ship better. I built it!"

"Are you sure you want to leave your nice secure job here, to go gallivanting through space on a mission that might get you killed?" Said Leslie with a smile.—she was getting good at that.

" This could be my best and only chance to pay back those sons of bitches for what they did to me. Why do you think I kept that Quell? For years I have always fantasized having a way to somehow ram that thing down their throats and set it off."

"I like your attitude, Bainbridge, you will fit right in. We also need a ship’s doctor. Do you keep any doctor cards in your pocket?"

"No, but I know just the fellow we need. He was a great surgeon --- once. That was before the Syndicate had his arms cut off.---Don’t worry they have been since replaced with bionics."

"Is he any good?"

"Yes, but the medical board has still refused to reinstate his license. ---Something about his bionic limbs and "regulations".

Leslie sighed to herself. She knew all too well about "regulations."

"Get him then!" she told Bainbridge.

Bainbridge, began to enter numbers into the com system. The computer voice interrupted. " Attention! Unscheduled shuttle craft approaching docking station."

"Acknowledged!" Replied Bainbridge.

"Looks like we have company" he said to Leslie. "Shall we go to meet them?"

"Oh, and be sure to bring your sidearm, we don’t know who might drop in on us around here."

 

The Three approached the stairway and waited. The airlock opened. I single individual emerged.

The shape was female, but it was shrouded in a hooded robe. She wore her pressure suit beneath it. She slowly descended the steps and approached Leslie.

"Leslie Webber?" the woman asked. The woman looked somewhat oriental, but her skin was too dark and her features were a bit too course to assign her to that race. Yet she looked "quite attractive" in Leslie’s eyes.

"Yes, I am Webber!" Leslie replied "and you are?"

"Call me Zee!" The woman replied.

"And how can I help you, uh . . . Miz ZEE"

Zee pushed back the hood, revealing a smooth, bald head. "I am here to help YOU, Webber. You NEED me."

 

END OF PART THREE

 

 

 

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© 2001 by Marina Twelve. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.