The Last Frontier
One Hundred Over Ten

by: Thomas M. Ray

 

Aboard the Terran Battle Cruiser, "TSCS Formalhault", Captain Gideon Morris read the J-com message on his com screen. "What is it Captain?" asked his first officer, Captain Sarah Braden.

"J-com Distress Message" Morris replied. "The Icarius Says that it is under attack by a Rep Battle cruiser. It's near the outer perimeter near J-com relay P-154"

"Icarius?" questioned Braden," The Icarius is a cruiser class starship. What are they doing near the outer perimeter? They have no business out here."

The outer perimeter was the outermost limit of Terran influence, it formed a boundary of sorts , a buffer between the Hostile, Alien "Reptoids" or "REPs" and the more distant Terran colonies. It was patrolled by only the large "Battle cruiser" class starships, both Terran and REP alike. Confrontations were common. Anything smaller than a battle cruiser was looking for trouble. Apparently the Icarius had found it.

At seven to eight hundred feet long, and armed with at least ten, half-meter bore photon cannons, a cruiser class starship was a formidable vessel. But it would be no match against a Reptoid Battle cruiser half again it's size and armed with at least four of the huge Linear Particle Accelerator weapons, (LX's) carried by such ships. They could do as much damage as a one point five meter Photon cannon and had a slightly longer range.

 

"They say that they are under attack by a Rep Battle cruiser and need assistance immediately. They have included the cords." Said Morris as he entered the cords from the message to his com screen.

 

The Battle Cruiser "Formalhalt" was just as large as the REP ships. Each of the three "Wings" that projected from the middle of the ships elongate hull, one hundred and twenty degrees apart, carried a two one point five meter cannon turrets--one on each side of the projections, near the tips. Making a total of six.

Quad ‘point seven fives’ graced the bow and stern of the vessel, and a ring of seven turret mounted point fives encircled the craft both ahead and aft of the wings. It could do some real damage.

"Battle mode!" Ordered Morris. "Helm! Transfer controls to command station."

"Aye sir!" The helmsman replied.

The Captain’s helm console swung in front of Morris’s chair. He adjusted the brackets that supported his foreword com screen that now hovered inches from his face. He grasped the helm joystick.

At the same time, Braden’s targeting and firing console panel swung out in front of her. The targeting and ranging screens, with their circular patterns and crosshairs moved themselves to their preset viewing positions.

"Prepare for jump!" Shouted Morris, "in three, two, one . . ."

 

 

There was a bright flash of blue light as the Formalhault jumped to the cords indicated on Morris's screen. Captain Braden checked the scanner displays on her own com screen. There was no Icarius to be seen. "Shit!" she exclaimed as she saw what was waiting for them.

"I have two rep battle cruisers Captain. One dead ahead bearing zero degrees at range of two clicks. One astern at range of five clicks. We've been suckered!"

Morris saw the first Rep Battle Cruiser on his forward view screen. Like all such craft, it resembled a giant, fat "sting ray". All four of the turret mounted LX's on the Rep's wing tips swung around and--- FUMP!--- simultaneously opened fire.

There was NO way for the Formalhault to escape. She could not execute another jump until the jump capacitors recharged. That would take at least one half an hour. They would have to fight it out.

"Fields up NOW!" Morris ordered. The force fields provided some protection, but not enough.

WHAM! The Four LPX shots perforated Formalhault's hull near the bow. FUMP! Another LPX volley came from behind. BLAMMM! Formalhault was rocked by a terrific explosion.

"We lost wing three!" A voice frantically screamed over the com system. BAM! The Formalhault shook again as one of wing three's detached one point five cannon turrets bounced off the hull and tumbled off into space.

Formalhault had taken two bad hits and not got a chance to get one shot off yet.

Braden was concerned "They have us from two sides!"

"We'll take the first one!" said Morris as he directed the remaining one point fives dead ahead. "Accelerate towards target!" FIRE! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! The one point fives could fire more quickly that the LX weapons. He did have THAT advantage. Three volleys of one point five fire slammed into the Rep Ship.

Its port wing and half of its weaponry was carried away. WHAM! WHAM! Formalhault was hit by two more volleys from the other ship. Morris would not be distracted. BLAM! BLAM! Braden fired two more volleys into the first ship as they overtook it.

BLAMMMM! A huge impact struck near Formalhault's bridge. BOOM! Almost immediately there was an explosion that knocked Morris out of his chair. Braden fell on top of him. Blood and shrapnel littered the deck. Carefully he pushed Braden aside. Something was wrong! She was too still. "Speak to me Braden! "Braden!" Braden couldn't speak and she never would again. Morris, to his horror, then saw that she no longer had a head.

It took all of his willpower to maintain his composure and return to his helm and the fire controls. In a rage he swung the large ship around and--- BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! He pounded the REP with rapid one point five fire until_—BOOM!-- it exploded into a ball of fire and debris.

In one motion he swung his damaged, ungainly vessel around in an overhead loop and aimed it directly at the other Battle cruiser.

WHAM! His ship took another hit, but Morris continued to dive in. "Full auto mode all weapons! He ordered. He was taking a big chance. The big cannons could only fire short bursts at full auto before they overheated and locked up, but Morris HAD to kill the other ship and FAST. It was still intact and Formalhault was already severely damaged.

BRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP! The vibrations sounded like a thousand high-speed air hammers, as the huge one point fives and the quad point seventy fives began to tear at the other ship. At this range the REP's force shields protected it somewhat, but several shots were still getting through.

Morris watched his weapons com screen as one and then another of the red indicator icons for each gun came on--signaling a lock up.

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP! Still he continued to lay on the fire. Another red icon came on--only one of the big cannons was still firing.

KBOOM! The REP ship finally could take no more! A violent explosion blasted it into shards like a broken pot.

Only now could Morris allow himself to grieve the loss of his first officer Sarah Braden. Next to his own family members she was the most important person in his life. Now she was gone. That she had died a hero was little consolation.

As the Formalhault limped back to port, and the initial shock of loosing his command team counterpart began to lift, he began to realize that Yes, it had been a deliberate trap. A question formed in Morris's mind. How the devil did the Reps obtain the distress codes for the Icarius?

According to fleet records the Icarius never had been within fifty light years of the nearest REP outpost. He was able to formulate a few theories in his mind how this might have been done, but no, the implications of any of them would be unthinkable.

***********

Captain Grant Stewart manipulated the large passenger liner "Vega" to within several meters of the cylindrical object that his sensors had detected on his final reaction engine run to Sirius four. Yes, it definitely WAS an escape pod. From the markings on it, he could tell it was from a Terran Confederation Space Command ship.

How long it had been drifting about in space was anybody's guess. It was no longer transmitting the distress signal. That wasn't a good sign. The power source lasts for months, far longer than any human could hold out within its small confines, considering the standard emergency rations kept on board.

"Deploy the Spider!" Stewart ordered.

The ‘Spider’ boarding device swung out from beneath the Vega's hull and embedded its four hydraulically actuated claws into the sides of the pod. The Beak in the spider's center punched through the small craft's side and opened up a hole that now connected the hollow articulated arm of the spider with the pod's interior.

Able-bodied Spacemen Edwards and Hodge then crawled through the spider's arm and into the capsule. As expected, no living persons were aboard. There were two dead men. Space Command officers, judging from their uniforms, an Ensign and a Lieutenant.

It was hard to say exactly how long that they had been dead. The interior of the pod was quite cold and the lack of oxygen could each delay the onset of decomposition indefinitely.

One thing was very strange. It appeared that the power to the distress signals had been deliberately disconnected from the inside.

There was also something else, a large, yellow envelope. Something had been put in it. On its outside was scrawled, with a marking pen "Urgent information SCC Command only!"

**************

 

Life had settled into a routine at the Webber Ranch on Barnards Star four. Leslie Webber lived there with her new "Family" now. There was Melissa Connor, her former first officer, Ashley Bainbridge, ships engineer, Doctor Havelock and his Nephew, the young "Bill".

All traces of Clay Sanders had been eradicated from Barnards star 4. The town of Sandersville had now been re-named, by popular acclaim, Adrienne City. It was Webbers's idea. The people originally wanted to name it Webberville after their new local hero(ine), Leslie Webber, but she insisted that she wanted NO part of it. A compromise was reached. The town was re-named after Adrienne, Webber's former and deceased wife, instead.

Zee the ‘Biotelemetricist’ had been put on "life support" at the Justin Webber Memorial Hospital in Adrienne City. Fortunately, Doc had gotten her into the "Stasis Chamber" in time. Zee was injured very Seriously. Her Liver and several other organs had been damaged. She had lost a lot of blood, but she had been revived. Her life signs finally stablized. The machines had then taken over and had maintained her body functions until her injuries healed.

 

When Zee was released from the hospital, one month later, it was decided that she should be welcomed back into the fold with an old fashioned, outdoor "barbecue" at the ranch. She was still a little shaky on her feet, so she was using a six wheeled electric, all terrain wheelchair to get around on.

 

The group sat around a big picnic table under a pavilion that had been erected for such events. Zee was rolled to the head of the table and welcomed back with a toast.

Leslie was in good spirits. Her mental depression had been abating and she was continuing to adapt to her new body. She was wearing a long wrap around skirt in an effort to "dress up’ for the party. She didn’t have to be coerced into dressing a bit more feminine anymore.

Now that her latest claims to fame and glory were as a result of her actions since her physical transformation, she felt that she was well on her way to reestablishing a suitable identity for herself that owed nothing to her previous existence.

There was no longer a strong psychological need to "hold on" to her old self. She now felt freer to face who she was NOW, and perfect it. Still, she was determined not to let her "Female state" stand in her way to further success, and Lord help anyone who might try to take advantage of her because of it.

 

Leslie then had an announcement. The Antaries & Irindi Transport Company had offered Leslie, the Retribution and its crew a lucrative contract to provide security for its ships in dangerous areas. Finally they would have a steady and reliable source of income and the Retribution would fly again. Leslie would once again be in her element in space, as a starship captain. All would be right with the world. At least as right as it ever could be.

The unmistakable throb of reaction engines disturbed the still country air. It began to grow in intensity. It was a big ship and it was approaching closer. Leslie began to worry. Had the Syndicate finally come to pay them a visit? There was no time to speculate. In a flash the ship was hovering overhead. Fortunately, it was not a Syndicate ship at all, but a Space Command Cruiser.

Everyone watched as the seven hundred foot behemoth deployed its landing struts and sat down in the flat meadow not fifty meters away from the main house.

"What in the world?" said Leslie to herself as she watched the ramps deploy and several squads of heavily armed Space Command Rangers run out. One group marched directly towards Leslie and her friends while the other two groups ran in the direction of the Retribution.

No one, not even Bill, dared reach for his weapon. These guys looked serious. Leslie, as the leader, stepped forward and addressed the sergeant who seemed to be in charge of the squad.

"What the hell's this about?" she shouted indignantly.

The Soldiers surrounded the small group under the pavilion and held them at gunpoint.

"Is this everybody here?" Asked the sergeant.

"Yes!" replied Leslie. "Now do you want to tell me what all this bullshit is about, or do I . . .?"

She looked up in time to see Admiral Simmons and two aides approaching. The man had a concerned look on his face.

"Admiral sir!" Leslie responded instinctively, although she had been officially out of the Space Command for almost a year.

"Webber, something's come up. "

Before she could reply, one of the aides handed the Admiral an envelope.

"We need to speak alone, Webber, so tell your people to sit tight for a few while we attend to business."

"Stay right there! I’ll be back in a minute." Leslie shouted to her group and followed the Admiral into the house.

Simmons opened the envelope and pulled out a wrinkled piece of brown paper. He thrust it under her nose. "Here, do you know what THIS is?" He asked.

The drawing was crude, but what it depicted was unmistakable. "Of course I know what it is, "Leslie replied, don’t you?"

It was a drawing of a Reptoid Battle cruiser. The Retribution had destroyed at least three of them with the Quell some time back when Leslie's ship and a syndicate Enforcer had been attacked near the Antarian limit.

"We found this aboard a SC escape pod three days ago along with a hand written message that the Icarius had been attacked and destroyed one month ago by such a craft in the vicinity of 61 Cygni."

"Shit! That’s over fifty light years from the nearest Rep system." Leslie replied. "They would need jump technology to . . . "

"Exactly!" exclaimed the Admiral.

"What does this have to do with me? Surely you don’t think that I have anything to do with the Reps getting their claws on jump technology?"

"By no means Webber. But I'm sure you can understand the seriousness of this matter. If the Reps obtain Jump technology, they could become a formidable threat the Terran Colonies, or even the Confederation itself."

"I therefore have been informed by the commander in chief that YOU are to be assigned to investigate the situation, and if possible, rectify it."

"But I am no longer in the Space Command, Admiral. If you recall, I resigned my commission and YOU personally accepted it."

"Well, Captain, consider yourself, RE-Commissioned. This is definitely a matter of utmost importance for the Confederation. You are hereby reinstated as an active officer in the Terran Interstellar Space Command, and have been re-instated to the rank of Captain."

Leslie couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

"You . . . you can't do that to me!"

"Yes I can Webber, and I just did." Replied the Admiral." And not only that, The Retribution has just been commandeered by the Government, and your crew has also been officially inducted into the Command."

"WHAT!" Leslie exclaimed. "You can’t be serious!" That’s MY ship! . . . MY crew! They can't . . ." I'll FIGHT IT! The government just can’t come in here and take what they . . .

"You will follow orders Captain or we will bring you up on charges."

"Charges? What charges?"

"Unauthorized possession of a weapon of mass destruction, for one. Unauthorized operation of an armed starship. Unprovoked attack and destruction of two raider ships and the deaths of their crew . . ."

"Wait a minute! Those were Syndicate raiders!"

"Doesn’t matter, you were in no danger from them at the time. It was YOUR ship that attacked. Shall I go on?"

"You have made your point!" Said Leslie in a huff.

"Very good Captain. Now that we have come to an understanding, let me tell you about your mission.

 

***************

 

Leslie could not help feel less than "violated" as she watched the government technicians and engineers crawl all over her ship. Bainbridge, on the other hand, was quite proud of his handiwork as he was all too pleased to explain and demonstrate the several innovations that he had developed.

As Leslie stood on the bridge with her arms folded in disgust, an engineer approached her. "Where do you want to sit?" he asked.

"I already have a seat. Behind the helm"

Admiral Simmons, who was also within earshot interrupted. "This is the Space Command Captain. We are going to install a command station as all SC ships have. You will be utilized for your command expertise. I will get you a good helmsman, anyone you want."

So, there WAS one bright side to the situation after all. "OK, Admiral, Get me Lieutenant Saunders. He was my helmsman aboard the Proteus, and I could use his services here on the Retribution."

"With your permission, Captain, we will install the command seats here." Said the engineer as he took a tape measure and marked out an area on the deck a couple of meters behind the helm console."

"Seats?"

A couple of technicians brought in TWO seats and set them side by side where the engineer had drew the chalk marks. They then began to bolt them down."

Leslie was approached by one of the technicians and shown to the chair on the right. "Please be seated Captain, so we can make the necessary adjustments."

"I usually sit on the left, Melissa, Commander Connor sits on the right"

"Commander Connor will retain her current post at navigation." The Admiral once again interrupted.

Considering her mental condition, It is only in deference to you that I will allow her to serve on this ship at all.

"Then who? . . . OH! NO! . . . No you don't!" Said Leslie as she stood up and looked the Admiral in the eye. "This Bullshit is why I quit Space Command in the FIRST Place! And now you propose to make me a subordinate officer on what was my own ship?"

 

Simmons dreaded this moment. It had finally come. Leslie had realized that she was not going to be exempted from any Space Command regulations, including the Team command System, where the Captain’s duties were shared by a man/woman team of two officers of close or equal rank. Leslie especially objected to the part where it was the male member of the team who made the final call in the event of a conflict of opinion.

"Everybody off the bridge. Now!" Said Admiral Simmons. And Close that door! You stay here Webber!"

 

Simmons sat down on the left Command chair and motioned that Webber should sit next to him.

"Don't give me a hard time about this Webber. I didn't make the rules. I'm only following orders the same as you. They want YOU, Webber, for this mission and I am supposed to see to it that YOU is who they get."

"Tell me this, sir." said Webber indignantly. "What good would it do to have me in charge of this mission if I don't have the final word in any decisions?"

"You will have input into all of the command decisions."

"But the Male half of the team has to approve and order the final decision." Leslie replied.

"You know the reason for the Command team arrangement, Webber. The use of both a male and female mind to formulate policy and command decisions insures that the strengths of each compensates for the weaknesses of the other. The result being the best mental consensus humanly possible."

"You know that in my case, that is pure bullshit, Admiral. I still have a male mind, and teaming me up with a man would not serve the purpose that the command team was designed to accomplish."

Admiral Simmons lay back on his seat and sighed.

"Leslie, what would it take for you to go along with this arrangement? I mean could you defer to a man you respected? Someone that you perhaps thought was even better than YOU are? Or at least your equal?"

Leslie began to speak, but thought for a moment. "I am the best you have sir. You could never find any one my equal, much less any better than me. Was that not why I was chosen for this mission?"

"You did not answer my question Webber. And besides, you were not chosen because you were the best. You were chosen because you were the most dangerous."

"Now answer my question."

"If I honestly thought the guy was better than me, I would consider it. One is never too old to learn. But good luck finding anyone like that."

"Sure," Leslie continued, with a sly smile, "I'll do it under those circumstances and those circumstances only. But I swear that I will let myself be court-martialed and charged with anything you can bring against me before I will let myself become an underling to someone that I consider a fool!"

Simmons Sighed. "OK Webber, I guarantee that we can find someone suitable for you. Promise that you will give it a try anyway."

"Alright Admiral, I'll give it a try, but if it doesn’t work out I'm out of here. And I won't give a shit what you try to do to me."

 

*****************

 

The receptionist ushered Captain Gideon Morris into Admiral Simmons’s richly appointed office.

"At ease Captain." Said the Admiral, who was sitting at his desk.

"We will all miss Captain Braden. May I offer my condolences?"

"Yes, Thank you sir" replied Morris as he brushed away a tear.

"I thought that you would like to know, Morris, that the remains of the Icarius were found near 61 Cygni, at least two jumps away from the Outer Perimeter area. And yes, definite LX damage."

"My God! The REPs would have to have had access to space jump technology to do that.

"Captain, I don’t have to tell you what a catastrophe we might be facing if the REPS ever get their hands on Jump technology. Unfortunately, we have evidence that there is at least one REP battle cruiser so equipped."

"We suspect that someone may be trading such sensitive technologies to the Reps. I have been ordered to send one of our best Captains into REP territory to investigate, and if possible, put an end to it."

"Thank you for the honor sir!"

"Don’t thank me just yet, Morris. I was not referring to you. Your part of in the mission is a bit more complicated than that. You will not be returning to the Formalhault. You will be assigned to another smaller ship and you will have a new first officer."

"A smaller ship?, But sir, I am a fleet battle Cruiser Captain."

"Listen, Morris, this is an important mission and a rather "unique" situation had developed. I need the absolute best man I can find for this job. That Captain I was telling you about, whom the Commander in Chief insisted should be a part of the command team on the mission is Leslie Webber. Ever hear of her?"

"I’ve heard the name. Wasn’t she the ex-Space Command officer that supposedly shot and killed that Syndicate boss on his own ship?

"Yes, and I strongly suggest that you review her Military records.."

 

"I’ve heard all sorts of outlandish stories about her, but no body takes them seriously. Does she actually exist?"

"Yes, and I will brief you on the stories later." replied the Admiral. "She refuses to work with anyone that she considers less than her equal. She has personally challenged me to find such a man. If I cannot, she will refuse the mission AND her clemency agreements even though it could mean that she would go to jail. She is THAT adamant."

"Clemency? Jail? What’s the deal with this Webber?" Asked Morris.

"You will find out soon enough, Morris." The Admiral said with a hint of a sly smile.

"She’s going to be your new first officer. This is the only way we can have her on the mission and still be in compliance with Space Command regulations. Like I said, read her service record. It’s going to be your primary job to keep her complacent. You need to IMPRESS her, Morris. Superior courage and skill are the only things that she respects. If she does not respect you, things will not go well for either of us. . . Oh! And may God have mercy on your soul.!"

 

**************

Morris contemplated his situation as he rode back to the officer’s quarters on the shuttle. Just like that, he was now going to have a new first officer. Sarah had not been dead for a week and he was expected to form a new bond with a stranger.

Such relationships, even though they were only professional, were exceptionally strong. As Morris was divorced, Sarah Braden had become the most important woman in his life. No, they hadn’t been romantically involved, but still they had become the best of friends. This was the case with nearly all of the SC " Command teams". They functioned as a unit. Each knew what the other was thinking and how they would react to a situation. Each knew what they were expected to do and followed through. They trusted each other with their own lives and those of the crew.

The team members were chosen specifically for each other based on detailed personality profiles, and remained together until the retirement of one or the other or in the event of catastrophe. Even well matched people took several weeks or even months to form an efficient "partnership". Morris, however, would have to meet with this "Leslie Webber" person and almost immediately embark on what could be the most dangerous mission in his life.

Hell, Admiral Simmons implied that he had been selected as Leslie’s Captain on the basis of his record of courage and bravery alone. Compatibility of personality had nothing to do with it.

All Morris knew about Leslie Webber were bits and pieces of "crazy" stories and rumors that couldn’t possibly be true. Leslie was a Man, Leslie was a Woman, Leslie was an alien. He or She was an insane killer or a hero, a starship captain or a civilian. With all sorts of "news" sources and "rumor mills" available on the com net systems no one could separate fact from fiction anymore. Current events were now mere matters of speculation. Oh how he longed for the old days when News was News and that everybody could agree on one truth.

The Captain Lesley Webber that he was supposed to team up with, as far as Morris knew, might even be someone else entirely different. She might simply be a Space Command officer who, coincidentally had the same name as the quasi legendary subject of the rumors. "Yes," he thought, " There could be lots of people named Leslie Webber in the universe." But then again, Some of those "Charges" that Admiral Simmons had mentioned seemed to imply that there might be more of a connection between HIS Leslie Webber and the Legendary version than he felt comfortable with.

As soon as Morris returned to his quarters, he followed Admiral Simmons’s advice and pulled up Webber’s Service records on the Com Net. He was going to get to the bottom of the mystery. Simmons had given him the access codes and the key to the truth.

"This can't be right." Thought Morris as he pulled up Webber’s service record on the com screen. His first thought was "There has to be some kind of mistake. This Webber is a Man." He checked the service number once again---The same record came up.

Something was not right. Perhaps Simmons never met Webber in person himself. Might he merely have assumed that Leslie was a woman from the name? Morris decided to read it anyway. After all, it was the name and number that Admiral Simmons had given him. As far as he knew there were no regulations against male first officers, only Female Captains. "This would make an ‘interesting’ command team." He chuckled to himself.

Leslie was the son of one of the first pioneer families who settled the planet Barnards Star Four. He helped his father build their successful ranching operation. When he turned eighteen he joined the Terran Space Command. With his ‘can do’ attitude, exceptional bravery and determination he rose quickly in the ranks and was given a field commission. By the time he was thirty two, Leslie Webber had achieved the rank of Commander and was given command of his own ship, the Proteus. He was promoted to the rank of Captain at age thirty-five.

Leslie was known for his honesty and a serious commitment to his duty of keeping the transport lanes open and protecting cargo and passengers from all threats, both human and alien. He had refused many attempts to "buy him off", or "look the other way". Indeed, anyone who attempted to convince Leslie to compromise any of his principles, more often than not, found themselves in jail or worse.

Leslie was not a man to be trifled with. In addition to his skills with weaponless combat, He was a fast draw and an expert shot with his favorite weapon, The Horton and Roth "One Hundred over ten" automatic pistol. His next favorite weapon was a fourteen inch Commando Combat Knife. Leslie had been called, on many occasions, to use either or both.

Webber had been awarded the "Double Star" for’ bravery under fire’ three times. He was well experienced in ship to ship combat, having taken on up to two Syndicate Enforcer ships at once, and numerous encounters with fleets of Syndicate backed "Raiders". Leslie also had experience with REP fighters, having driven off several Rep attacks on isolated outposts.

Morris was beginning to think that he liked the guy. He could work with someone like that, a man of principle and bravery and a man who got results. He was a lot like himself.

The next few paragraphs, however threw him, and helped explain why Admiral Simmons called this a "unique situation".

On his last Space Command mission, Webber was ambushed and captured by Syndicate forces. Rather than kill him however, they somehow used an unknown technology, possibly of alien origin, to change his DNA and body structure into that of a woman. Webber was to serve as an example and as a warning to those other Space Command Captains and officers who would presume to interfere with Syndicate business. Before being released, she was also gang raped by several Syndicate officers, then unceremoniously dumped; more dead than alive, on a landing pad near her home on Barnards star four.

Leslie had been given a six month medical leave while she recovered from her injuries and learned to function as a female. Although she requested an operation to change her gender back to male, the request was differed by psychologists for at least a year, so as to insure that such a decision could be made with a more logical frame of mind, rather than while still under the influence of a recent trauma.

Leslie was reinstated in the Space Command with her former rank of Captain, but resigned her commission when the Admiralty Board refused her request for a special waver, as a woman, to Captain a Starship.

"I don’t blame her" Morris thought to himself. "I would have quit too".

The next entry on the records was dated ten months later. Leslie had been called back to the service, not yet a week ago, by order of the commander in chief of the Terran Space Command. The private ship "Retribution" of Barnards Star Four registry, and owned by "Webber Enterprises" was also confiscated for use in the mission. Webber was to be designated as First Officer. The Captain was yet to be named.

"Well I bet she doesn’t like that" Morris again chuckled to himself.

There was an Addendum to the record that Caught Morris's attention.

At the time of this writing, there have been reports that Webber, with the help of five crewmembers of the Retribution had rescued the crew of her ship Proteus, along with several hundred other Syndicate prisoners. This from a Syndicate operated mining colony on a moon of a planet Called Axel two. This was said to be a private endeavor undertaken by Webber herself, without and help assistance or authorization from the Terran Space Command.

Another report states that Webber is also responsible for the shooting death of one Clayton Sanders, AKA, Konstantin, the reputed head of the "Interstellar Syndicate Cartel", aboard his own ship, near Epsilon Irindi. Sander's Ship, ’Enforcer One’, was reportedly run down and crippled by fire from the ‘Retribution’, before being boarded. At least five Syndicate Enforcer ships were also reported destroyed during the chase in a running battle that took place across 20 parsecs of space. Again this action was taken without help assistance or authorization of Terran Space Command forces.

Morris had heard the stories before, but had put little credence in them, but now here, at least the gist of them, they were in Webber's official records. They were, still as yet unconfirmed, to be sure, but there had to have been enough compelling evidence for their authenticity for them to be included in the official records.

Webber was starting to look like quite a formidable character indeed.

Morris Checked Webber's latest fitness report.

FITREP CPT. Webber Leslie T. 020518

Filed 12-09-2218 tce

Female, biological age approximately 30, chronological age 38, Height 5 ft 10 in. Weight 150, physical Health excellent.

Appears to have suffered somewhat from recent psychological trauma resulting from involuntary change of sex and DNA by methods unknown, forcible rape, and death of spouse and child. Suspect at least short period of temporary insanity before and during confrontation with one Clayton Sanders, whom she allegedly killed under questionable circumstances. She appears to have recovered but continued monitoring of her psychological state is recommended.

Still has difficulties in accepting sexual reassignment, but is steadily adapting. Feels a need to overcompensate for reduced strength and influence due to sex change---extremely suspicious of strangers, Rebellious. Refuses to accept subordinate status if she feels that it is based upon sex alone.

Despite difficulties is still considered fit for service.

Is currently serving in Space command involuntarily, in exchange for not being charged with several violations including, possession of a weapon of mass destruction, murder, multiple murder and piracy.

"Son of a bitch!" Morris thought "and Admiral Simmons wants me to impress HER?"

 

Morris was not exactly "mister nice guy" himself. HE had won the Double star FOUR times, more than anyone in the command, THAT would be his biggest edge on Leslie. He too felt quite capable of taking care of himself. As a Battle Cruiser Captain, his fights were on a much larger scale, than what a Space Command Patrol ship would encounter. He had and did go "head to head" with the Large REP battle cruisers. His last time out his ship "Formalault" was attacked by TWO of them. He barely escaped, but not before destroying them BOTH. Formalhault had been severely damaged and his own first officer, Captain Sarah Braden, had been killed. It was quite a traumatic experience for him. She had been almost like a member of his family, as was often the relationship between Captains and first officers on the male - Female command teams that were standard on Space Command ships.

Now Morris was going to have to form such a relationship with Leslie Webber, a woman to whom the very idea of serving subservient another person was abhorrent. This, in addition to being a resentful, unstable individual who at some level might be a psychotic killer. Oh yes, this experience WAS going to be interesting, to say the least.

 

********************

 

 

As they, by special order of the Commander and Chief, had also been inducted into the service, Retribution's crew members were given temporary status and rank in the Space Command for the duration of the mission. Doc, Bainbridge and Zee were given the temporary ranks of Lieutenant. Melissa got to keep her Commander status. Bill, however, was rated only an E-3 Gunner.

Of course they would be required to wear their uniforms and were given books on military regulations to read. They would not have any special training however, because time was of the essence and they, to a degree, had already proven themselves.

 

Leslie wondered about who Admiral Simmons had chosen to work with her. Her own research into the Space Command officer pool revealed no one that particularly impressed her. She was going to give Simmons his chance though, if only for the opportunity to prove him wrong.

Monday Morning at zero six hundred, Leslie had her crew dress in their uniforms and stand in line at attention as the new Captain was piped aboard.

Leslie made an extra effort to look very professional. Her long red-blonde hair was put up in the regulation bun and she made it a point to be wearing all of her campaign ribbons and medals, especially the Three "Double Stars" she had earned for bravery under fire. If possible, she was going to make her counterpart look like a piker by comparison. It would be obvious who the "real" Captain was.

The Pipes blew over the com system and Admiral Simmons, along with Captain Morris walked onto the bridge.

Despite her research, Leslie had never heard of Captain Morris. Standing about Six feet two inches tall, he looked about forty five years old, very fit and every inch an officer. Leslie could see that he certainly did not appear to be the pompous jackass that she had expected to humiliate. He too wore the double star, FOUR of them.

Morris didn't look very impressed by his surroundings. He did not really want to be there, but like Leslie, he had to follow orders too. He politely saluted Leslie and her crew and then got down directly to business.

"I am Captain Gideon Morris. Am I addressing Captain Leslie Webber?".

"You are, Captain"

To Morris, Leslie’s pictures in her file did not do her justice. She was quite a "looker", but at the same time conveyed an air of professionalism and confidence that contrasted sharply with the impression of the "hell raiser" image of her he had gleaned from reading her records.

She stood nearly six feet tall in her boots, and had the streamlined musculature of an athlete. She was well proportioned though and didn’t have a mannish or Amazonian look about her. Yet her presence seemed imposing. She could not be ignored.

"No offence to you, Ma'am but I want to make it perfectly clear both to you and Admiral Simmons that it was not my choice to be here. I am here because I was ordered to be here. My last posting was Captain of the Fleet Battle cruiser Formalhaut. I am not used to working with such a small crew aboard such a small ship."

Leslie smiled. "I don't want to be here either, so we have at least something in common, and don’t let the size of the Retribution fool you. She may be small, but I would put her up against even the Formalhaut any day of the week."

Morris looked at the medals hanging from Leslie's ample but not overly exaggerated chest.

"Frankly I am impressed, Captain Webber. You are the first woman that I have seen who has been awarded the double star. Are the stories they tell about you true?"

"Probably. Which Stories?"

"That you and your crew of five rescued the crew of the Proteus and almost nine hundred other slaves from the syndicate Mining colony on the moon of Axel two."

"That's true. Including the part where we destroyed the moon afterwards. The Retribution can pack one hell of a punch."

"Yes, Simmons has told me about the Quark Accelerator." said Morris. " But what weapons do you actually fight with."

"We have a one point five meter photon cannon facing forward, a point seven five in the rear and two turret mounted point fives. We can hold our own against any Syndicate enforcer ship."

"Yes, the one point five is quite a weapon. The Formalhault has Six.

"Have you ever gone up against a Rep Battle cruiser?" Morris continued.

"Yes, I destroyed three of them a couple of months ago."

"You’re not serious!"

"Oh I am. We were attacked by a fleet of REPs near the Antarian limit. I ended up having to use the Quell. We knocked out three Battle cruisers and several hundred fighters with a single shot."

"Why haven't I heard of this then? It’s not in your file."

"I was on a personal mission at the time. I needed to be discreet."

 

"That reminds me Webber", The Admiral interrupted. "I was instructed to give this to you." He handed Leslie a small, blue velvet box and an envelope.

"What’s this about Admiral? And who made you a delivery boy?"

" My superior ordered me to give it to you personally. I don’t know what it is."

"Leslie tore open the envelope, read the letter and smiled. Then she opened the box, removed the shinny gold "double Star" medal from it, and pinned it on her chest.

"Looks like we’re even, Morris."

"What’s this?" asked the Admiral, somewhat surprised.

"It seems that several rescued members of my crew had nominated me for yet another metal for bravery under fire. The board seems to have approved."

"But you can't get a double star for rescuing the crew, you were technically a civilian then."

"This was for the battle in which I was captured when the Proteus was ambushed. I hear that I am ALSO up for a Freedom star, the highest civilian award, for rescuing the crew and the other slaves from the mine. It hasn't arrived yet."

To Admiral Simmons it seemed that the fates were conspiring against him.

Now it appeared that his man Morris had nothing on Leslie. They were probably as well matched as any two officers could be.

Simmons could see trouble. What little awe Leslie might have held for Morris had evaporated, while Morris had felt himself being taken down a notch.

Simmons could see now that Webber would not consider Morris as being any better than she was. The Admiral's only hope now was that Leslie would take Morris as an equal.

Morris could not allow his relative status to slip any further or Leslie would have the upper hand.

 

That would be Morris’s worry now though. Admiral Simmons knew that he had done his best, and Morris WAS a good man. Morris WOULD hold his own or die trying. Which was also a real possibility.

"Well," Said the Admiral," I will let you two to get better aquatinted and begin your mission. I will be returning to base. I expect a report at least every three days on my secure channel. More often should there be any important developments."

The Admiral and his aides left the Retribution and boarded their own ship.

"Leutenant Saunders!,Commander Connor!" Leslie ordered, "Take us to high planetary orbit and await further instructions."

"Aye Captian!" Replied Saunders.

"Whoa! Lady!" Morris exclaimed, as the engines began to rev. "Lets get this straight right NOW! I AM the Captain here. I say when the ship lifts off and where it goes."

"But of course ‘CAPTAIN’ " Leslie replied, with just a subtle hint of sarcasm in her voice. "Is it not standard procedure to begin the mission from a parking orbit, and is it not the job of the first officer to see to it that such routine aspects of the mission are carried out?"

Morris sighed. "But of course Webber. Carry on. It’s just that I don’t want us to get started off on the wrong foot is all."

"I understand, Morris. Since we are both stuck here we need to make the best of things. Lord knows I have had a lot of experience making the best of unpleasant situations over the last year."

"I didn’t want to mention it in front of the Admiral, but I was hoping that we would have more time to get to know each other before we started this mission, Webber. As you must know the connection between command team members needs to be a strong one. We need to be able to trust each other and know each other’s strengths and weaknesses."

"But I am afraid that we do not have that luxury, do we Morris. We will have to learn about each other and learn to be FRIENDS on the job."

"Commander Conner, my former F-O is my most trusted friend. I have stuck with her even after what Konstantin and his people had done to her mind. The Space Command no longer wanted her, but I did, and she is still at my side. I can imagine how it must feel to loose your First Officer. Even I have lost Melissa, she is no longer who she was, but she is still alive and still my friend. That counts for something."

"I can only hope that WE can learn to be friends, Webber."

"It would be nice, but don’t count on it Morris. Not when YOU are sitting in that chair. But I promise that I WILL respect you provided that you are really worthy of my respect."

 

"We are preparing to enter hostile territory." Said Leslie. " So we need to get out of these uniforms and into something we can fight in. Unless you . . . object." Leslie cast a sarcastic sidelong glance at Morris. "I am also authorizing the carrying of personal arms."

"That’s fine with me Captain, Go ahead"

"Attention Crew!" Said Leslie over the Com System "Report to your stations in full battle dress in ten minutes."

Leslie Went to her quarters and stripped down to her pressure suit. She took her hair out of its bun and let if fall loosely down her shoulders. She attached the holster containing the "0ne hundred over ten" to her right leg and adjusted its position. After one final check of the two shives, concealed in her clothing, she was ready for action.

Back at the bridge command area, Leslie and Morris checked each other out. Morris was wearing a military jacket over the top of his own pressure suit. He seemed a bit perturbed at Leslie's appearance. "Is THAT all you wear?" He asked.

"It’s all I have ever worn in a potential combat situation." Leslie replied. The few critical seconds it takes to remove that jacket could make all the difference between you getting your pressure suit helmet on in time, should you need it. What’s the matter? Do you find me a distraction?"

"Not really, it’s just that we are a little more formal on the larger ships."

"What's that you're packing?" asked Leslie, pointing to Morriss's Sidearm. "I’ve never seen one of those before".

"Its a Seventy Five fifteen. I had it custom made. I like to have a little more knockdown power."

"And what's your backup? What happens if the gun fails of if you have to kill someone, or something quietly?"

Moriss reached behind his neck and grasped a leather wrapped handle like object. SWISH! a shiny blade sliced the air inches from Leslie’s nose. She didn't flinch.

"My GOD! It’s a sword! Where did you get that thing?"

"My Great, Great Grand father was Japanese. He was a master of NinJitsu. This was his sword. It’s just as deadly at close range than any firearm and there is little or no defense against it."

"But is it practical? Can you swing that thing in the confines of a starship passageway on the bridge?"

"Quite easily. The Ninja made a science of close quarter combat. This sword is specifically designed for it."

"Ever KILL anybody with it though?"

"I've never had the opportunity."

"I figured as much."

"Don't sell me short Webber, I practice with the sword every day. I could remove your head in a flash if I had to."

"Have you ever had any experience in close quarter Combat?"

"You Doubt me Webber?" Said Morris indignantly, "I have been awarded the double star four times, just as you have. We both know what kind of guts it takes to do that."

"Sure, Its easy to be brave under fire, when you are encased in fifty thousand tons of starship and have six one and a half meter photon cannons at your disposal.

"Really?" replied Morris. "Have you ever tried it when two Rep cruisers are pounding you with high energy L X fire. Those weapons pack as much punch as a one point five and have a longer range. That fifty thousand tons of starship might as well be built out of paper."

"but have you ever fought hand to hand?" Leslie countered.

"Hand to hand?"

"Yes, Ever have to kill an armed adversary from two feet away with a handgun? How about with a knife? I had to kill three syndicate soldiers with my combat knife when my ship was boarded and my pistol jammed."

"But wasn't that before . . ."

"Yes, I have had to change my fighting technique since then. Instead of my combat knife and brute force, I now have to rely on deception, and my good looks. But it is just as effective and just as dangerous."

Leslie pulled the 15 inch long shive from the seam of her pressure suit leg. "The last man I used this on, the commander of the syndicate mining colony, never saw it coming. I really didn't have to fight him at all"

 

"We are a small group, Morris, with one small ship. We have to all be prepared to fight anyone, anywhere at anytime. If you aren’t ready or able to do the same, then maybe you don't belong here."

"Don't worry about ME Webber. I can take care of myself. And YOU TOO if the need arises."

"Talk is cheap. Tell me that AFTER you have killed a HUMAN adversary. A REP is just a creature, Morris. A MAN is a person like ourselves who may have lived and loved and dreamed as we have. It is a lot harder to terminate such a life as our very own than it is to "wax" a mere creature."

"Well I hear YOU certainly have little trouble doing it."

"It is something that you have to get used to."

Melissa Walked over the Saunders, the helmsman, and said something inaudible to him. Both Webber and Moriss watched as Saunders left the bridge.

Before either could ask, Melissa turned to Leslie.

"Alright Leslie, THAT’S ENOUGH!"

"That's CAPTAIN!, Commander, and what the HELL are you talking about!"

"You really don’t realize what you are doing, do you Captain?"

"Are you attempting to berate me before a fellow officer, Commander? There ARE proper procedures and common courtesies you should be aware of."

" Captain Morris needs to hear this too! Don't you realize what you are doing? You resent Captain Morris's presence. And NOW you are now proceeding to dismantle his ego and self-confidence one small piece at a time. I can't let this go on. Such games could jeopardize the mission"

Leslie sat there, open mouthed in her chair, stunned at Commander's Connors impertinence. "Commander . . . " she began.

"Son of a gun!" Captain Morris interrupted. He shook his head incredulously.

Morris realized that Leslie HAD "rattled" him. Could he face and kill a human foe? He was sure that he could before—if he had to. But Leslie’s words had planted a seed of doubt in his mind. A doubt that hadn’t existed before. He could only hope that it didn’t evolve into a "suggestion" that had the potential to destroy him in a combat situation. He began now to realize what a devious, manipulative genius Leslie actually was.

"I was being psyched out by a master. It wouldn't have been very long before I would have been polishing your boots."

"You would have realized it before then." said Melissa." Then we would have had a much more serious command situation. I had to put a stop to it now!"

Leslie turned to look at him and then looked back at Melissa. "Oh MY GOD! I didn't really mean to . . .

"Don't play coy with me, Webber!" exclaimed Morris. "You knew exactly what you were doing. But you are to be commended, you are the most subtle operator I have ever encountered."

"But Really!" replied Leslie.

"I believe her, " Commander Connor replied. "She can't help the way she is. She didn't deliberately try to manipulate you, Captain Morris. She is a naturally manipulative person. She still has many personal psychological issues to deal with. She is determined not to become a subservient person because of her female status."

"But that's crazy. Everyone is subservient to someone else, no mater what their sex. " Morris replied.

"But Leslie has a hard time distinguishing between that subservience which is and which is not based upon one's sex. She tends to err on the side of . . ."

"Hold your tongue Commander!" Leslie interrupted. "You are not my personal psychoanalyst and I thank you to keep your theories to your self."

"Morris, I apologize for what I may have been doing. Melissa's right in one respect. I can't help it. It will be your responsibility not to let yourself be affected by my unconscious actions. If you can't do that, then too bad. You know of my tendencies now, so stay alert."

"You bet I'll be careful, Webber. This fiddle is not going to be played for an encore."

 

"Now you will not object if I take the helm in battle mode?" Asked Leslie. "It is only a practical suggestion, and not a psychological manipulation. I am used to the handling characteristics of the ship more so than you, and besides, heavy guns are your field of expertise-- so you would be more suited for weapons targeting."

Morris felt a little uneasy. Usually the male handled the helm and the female the targeting, but Leslie's request was a reasonable one.---SHE WOULD be the logical choice to be on the helm in battle mode. After all, The Retribution had been her personal ship. Morris gave in this one time.

"So where do we go?" asked Morris.

"Might I suggest that we attempt to recover some debris from a recently destroyed REP fighter and turn it over to our BT for a QL reading."

"So do you know where such debris could be found?" Morris inquired.

"There should be plenty near the Antarian limit where we were attacked a couple of months ago. Shall I have Commander Connor lay in a course?"

"By all means, Captain Webber."

 

END OF PART ONE

 

 

 

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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.