Galaxy Under Siege: JEGRA, #4

By Tristan Vick

SHE LOST HER CHILD. SHE LOST HER EMPIRE. SHE LOST THE FIGHT. BUT HER WAR IS JUST BEGINNING.

Awakening from a coma, Jegra finds that the galaxy is a very different place than the one she remembers. H'aaztre's avatars have laid siege to the galaxy and are wreaking havoc on alien worlds that refuse to submit to his rule and Earth is next in their sights.

Back on the desert moon, Thessalonica, Jegra receives an urgent distress call from Earth and races back to save her home planet, even as she fears the worst.

Meanwhile, Emperor Dakroth and Callestra find themselves the unwilling captives on the infernal ringworld Aldebaran. Fortunately, they discover n unlikely ally in the old scheming satyr Grendok, who has been leading the rebellion during Jegra's temporary absence.The stakes are higher than they've ever been, and Jegra will need all the help she can get if she hopes to turn the tides of the war and face off against a most terrible and powerful enemy on the battlefield. 

In this fourth exciting installment in the Cosmic Alliance series, our favorite space-faring gladiatrix, Jegra, must decide whether to go to war or to give into H'aaztre's demands. The road ahead is rocky and strewn with traps, but if anyone can overcome such obstacles, surely, it's Jegra -- The Gladiatrix of the Galaxy!

Fans of Star Wars, John Carter of Mars, and Red Sonja will be thrilled to the heavens with JEGRA: GLADIATRIX OF THE GALAXY where a woman made a slave discovers a greater destiny waiting for her in the stars.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tristan Vick
• Release date: Oct 31, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393629399

Book preview

A REGOLITH PUBLICATIONS BOOK

The Chronicles of Jegra: Galaxy Under Siege

Gladiatrix of the Galaxy Book 4

By Tristan Vick ©2019. All Rights Reserved

Published by Regolith Publications

First Edition, copyright © September 28, 2019.

Edited by Sheila Shedd

Cover art by Jackson Tjota

Interior book design by Tristan Vick

www.tristanvick.com

References to the Dominion and Nova Centauri Red are the copyright of A.A. Warren and the Talon universe, ©2019-2020.

Used with permission.

All rights reserved. This eBook is licensed for the personal enjoyment of the original purchaser only. This eBook may not be resold or given away to other people without the permission of the publisher or author. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters and events portrayed in the novel are products of the author’s imagination and are fictitious. Any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

ISBN-13: 978-1-950106-06-6

ISBN-10: 1-950106-06-6

1

ISS lingered above the translucent shroud of Earth’s thin, luminescent atmosphere. Although hidden behind the swirling, blue and white orb, the warm radiance of the sun’s backlighting gradually collected along the circumference of the planet until it condensed into an incandescent halo of gold. A split second later, the halo flared brightly, exploding outward in a brilliant sunburst that crested over the mantle of the blue planet.

A new dawn washed over the continents and oceans of Earth, revealing a world rich in life and beauty. High above the waking planet, the ISS cut across the radiance of the morning star and shot into the dark gulf of the great expanse as it followed its embowed trajectory.

The sunlight gleamed off the solar panels and danced across the aluminum alloy hull of the station. Beheld from afar, the ISS sparkled like a diamond set against a dark sea sprinkled with a hundred thousand other sparkling gems; many of them billions of years older than Earth.

The station’s crew was made up of two Americans—one man and one woman—along with a single Japanese gentleman, an Indian woman, and two Chinese, also one male and one female. The crew of six wafted about the various interconnected modules in zero-gravity and busied themselves in preparation for the Mars One resupply mission which would be arriving with new faces and supplies within approximately eleven minutes.

Captain Thomas Michael Drange floated over toward the view portal passing through the cabin effortlessly as his forward momentum brought him to the large glass window. Reaching out, he grabbed onto the padding around the window frame and caught himself, the change in force causing his legs to swing downward as he looked out the glass portal.

Drange steadied himself by hooking his toes under a yellow handle near the base of the inner hull. Then looking out the window he made visual confirmation of the inbound rocket. The rocket had passed the Karman line and was gradually making her way to them, right on schedule.

He smiled then reached up and pushed himself off the glass and spun weightlessly back toward the main cabin. Tom needed to get to the controls and man the station’s docking arm to help secure the two vessels.

The Ares III spacecraft would arrive courtesy of a Super Heavy booster rocket. It would dock with the station and drop off additional equipment and supplies to the ISS crew before heading on to resupply the Mars Colony One installation.

Besides anticipating the resupply, Tom was looking forward to seeing the captain of the Ares again, one lovely Ms. Karina Nazimova. She was Russian-born but moved as a child to the United States with her father and mother.

Her father was the famed Anton Nazimova, expert rocket engineer. After being laid off by the Russian space agency, whose space program had been gradually shrinking over the decades, he’d secured a job with NASA and moved his family to the United States. Karina was only four years old when they arrived stateside. Viewed as a defector, however, Russia smeared Anton Nazimova’s name up and down the World Wide Web making him out to be a villain rather than the brilliant scientist he truly was.

Tom knew all this because during flight academy he and Karina had dated for a stint. After their mutual separation, both putting their careers ahead of their personal lives, they remained on friendly terms with one another.

Karina getting command of the Ares III was a big deal. And he was glad it went to her. With as hard as she’d worked for it, she more than deserved it.

Not only was she perfectly suited for the job, she joined a long line of famous female astronauts like Peggy Whitson and Pamela Melroy, who both commanded highly critical space missions. Karina was an excellent officer and a brilliant astronaut. Tom couldn’t think of a person better suited for command.

Even so, if he was being completely honest, he did feel a slight twinge of envy. After all, the Ares III was the most advanced spacecraft that humans had ever built. It was NASA’s very first nuclear-powered space vessel and coming in three times longer and with twice as much cargo capacity as Ares II, it was the Ferrari of all interplanetary ships ever built.

In fact, Tom practically salivated over the specs of that ship every time he looked at the schematics. To him, it was like ogling a pinup girl from an old Playboy magazine, but a hell of a lot sexier.

With a skilled crew complement of thirty, naturally, the Ares III was outfitted with everything from a full-sized gym to a botanical biosphere, which helped supply fresh food for extended missions. The biosphere also acted as a carbon monoxide filter, assisting the ship’s scrubbers in recycling air. A natural air-freshener for the ship, if you will.

Additionally, plants were frequently transferred down to the greenhouses on the Martian surface, providing additional food for the astronauts living there.

Hovering above the space station’s control room for the docking arm, Tom let his legs dangle in the air behind him as he flipped on the automated targeting and took a hold of the dual joysticks. "Ares III, I have you on the monitor. Please cut your momentum thrusters and switch to maneuvering only."

The ship continued coming in hot and Tom raised an eyebrow.

They don’t appear to be slowing down, Dr. Iwasaki said as he gazed out the same view portal that Tom had been looking out of moments prior.

"This is the ISS calling Ares III. Cut your thrusters and prepare for ship-to-ship docking. Do you copy?"

Still, no response.

Tom and Iwasaki shared a nervous glance then slowly turned their heads and looked out the view portal in time to see the white spray of compressed gas explode out of the nose of the Ares as she ignited her reverse thrusters.

Relieved, the two men let out a nervous sigh as the ship slowed to a near halt. A few more short spurts and the two ships came into nearly perfect alignment. It was definitely Karina’s trademark flying: one part daredevil and two parts showoff.

"This is the Ares III, Karina Nazimova’s voice came across the comm, requesting permission to dock."

Cutting it a little close there, don’t you think? Captain Drange asked with a chuckle. Then he added, Permission granted.

Hands at the controls of the robotic arms, he reached out with the clawed arms and took ahold of the coupling unit of the Ares III, guiding it toward their airlock. There was a loud clunk as the ships came together, the mechanical sound of the docking clamps, and finally the magnetic seal locking into place.

Tom turned toward astronaut Melissa Thompson and motioned her to accompany him to the airlock to greet their guests. She was happy to do so, too, as she wanted to confront Captain Nazimova and remind her about the standard ship-to-ship docking procedures which she had clearly ignored.

As they floated up the access junction toward the airlock, Tom thought about the Ares III’s mission. It was on its way to Mars Colony One with parts and supplies. Karina’s mission was twofold. First, they were going to swing by the ISS and resupply the station, including providing additional food, lab equipment, and two fresh astronauts.

After their twelve-hour pit-stop aboard, they’d proceed on to their final destination where, after seven months of space flight, they’d arrive in orbit around Mars.

Once there, they’d take a shuttle down to the surface and join their fellow astronauts in studying the Red Planet for the next three years. The Ares III would become a space station, hovering above the planet, providing vital research assistance and acting as an orbital resupply vessel for the duration of the mission.

Arriving at the hatch, Tom caught the handle and lurched to a stop, his body swaying in the zero gravity. Thompson, who was close behind, grabbed onto some cargo netting and slowed herself down so she didn’t collide with him.

When the orange light above the door changed to green, Tom used a foothold to keep himself in place then pulled down on the latch to the airlock.

The round door rolled opened smoothly and with very little effort, as both ships had matched each other’s pressure. Once fully retracted, Thompson reached down and tugged the lever back up, securing the door into place.

She turned to Tom to give him a thumbs up when, without warning, Karina Nazimova shot past her. In fact, she almost collided with Captain Drange as she raced by, pulling herself into the space station and then hurtling up the corridor like a dart.

Wait! Commander Nazimova, what are you doing? Thompson called out, getting a bit red under the collar. You have to follow protocol!

Commander? Tom called out inquisitively, using his no-nonsense captain’s voice. As much as he knew that Thompson wanted him to reprimand her, the fact remained that you didn’t get hired as the lead astronaut for a critical mission by slacking on the rules. If Karina was breaking protocol, it was his bet that she likely had a damned good reason.

Apologies, Captain, she called back. "I’ll explain everything when I get the chance. But right now I need you and your crew to gather your essentials and get aboard the Ares III asap."

"Are you ordering us to evacuate the ISS, Commander?" asked Thompson in a skeptical voice.

That’s exactly what I’m ordering you to do. Karina floated up to the control station that Tom had been at moments earlier and, finding the keyboard, began typing in some code.

The keys clacked under her fingers and then an automated voice came onto the comm system. [*Automated self-destruct sequence in T-30 minutes.*]

"What in the bloody hell do you think you’re doing? Commanding officer or not, I’m going to need you to stop what you’re doing and give me your mission codes." Thompson kicked off the wall and flew across the cabin to try and stop the commander, but she bumped shoulders with Karina, who simply nudged her out of the way.

Slowly spiraling away from the commander, arms flailing, she tried to grasp onto Karina’s sleeve. Thompson finally caught some electronic paneling and halted her freewheeling spin. She pushed off the wall and floated back to the control panel.

Back at the keyboard, she attempted to disarm the auto self-destruct and frowned when the computer didn’t respond to her override codes. Dammit! I’m locked out.

You better have a damn good explanation for all this, Captain Drange growled. He eyed Karina sternly, but she casually unzipped her flight suit, reached into her overalls, and pulled out what looked like two, over-sized, red plastic dog tags. She tossed them to Thompson, who caught them and then, with a crack, snapped each red tab in half.

Thompson pulled out two slips of plastic, one red and one blue, and overlaid them. A series of green letters and symbols appeared on the previously innocuous seeming pieces of plastic. A code.

What is it? Tom asked.

Thompson looked up at him. It’s the evacuation codes, sir, she answered.

He floated over to her and checked the codes himself. Sure enough, it was an order to abandon ship.

As they were confirming the codes, Karina simply glided over to the view portal and peered out at Earth.

No, no, no... she whispered to herself. I thought we’d have more time.

More time for what? Iwasaki asked, having overheard her. He sidled up beside her and peered out at the same glorious vista. Soon everyone was curious as to what they were looking at and crowded around the window.

Even doctor Asima and the two Chinese astronauts, Zhi Cheung and Quan Jing, who were watching the drama unfold with interest, decided to come over and join them. As they gathered around, one thing became abundantly clear, their order to abandon ship wasn’t about leaving the space station. It was about leaving Earth.

Oh, my god! Asima gasped, scarcely able to believe her own eyes. Almost as soon as she’d taken another breath, her lip began to quiver and tears flooded into the corners of her deep brown eyes.

They all watched with dreadful astonishment as giant, orange glowing fissures opened up on the planet’s surface.

Explosions of magma began shooting up into the air, and a daisy chain of events followed as every single active volcano on the planet’s surface began to erupt simultaneously. It made the fatal eruption of Pompeii look like a child’s baking soda experiment by comparison.

As dark ash and smoke rose into the atmosphere, forming dark, billowing, ominous clouds that threatened to blot out the sun entirely, the crew all had the same terrible sinking feeling in their guts. This wasn’t just a disaster; this was an act of God. This was cataclysmic.

What is going on down there? Asima Krishnan asked in a low, steady voice. She spun around and fixed her exacting gaze on Karina. Following her lead, the rest of the crew turned to Karina too, hoping she’d have the answers.

Look, Karina said, scanning all the stunned faces, "I don’t have time to explain right now. We need to get aboard the Ares III and get our asses to Mars. That’s our only hope."

Only hope for what? Tom raised an eyebrow as he stared at Karina with one inquisitive eye slightly larger, slightly more intense than the other.

Our only hope of survival, she replied in a solemn tone that sent a shiver down his spine.

2

Asandy moon wrapped in a cerulean veil of oxygen rich atmosphere hung above the blue and green swirling mass that defined the Dagon homeworld.

With the recent sanctions placed on the homeworld by the Nyctan-Nephilim Fusion, however, very few ships came and went. The enemy had effectively laid siege to the entire planet. Those that tried to leave without authorization were shot down by the massive Nyctan and Nephilim battle cruisers that hung in the distance, monitoring vigilantly for signs of rebellion.

Authorized travel was only granted to small freighters shuttling supplies back and forth between Dagon Prime and Thessalonica, its moon. Being primarily a desert world, it didn’t have the resources necessary to sustain itself. As such, cargo ships were allowed to resupply the moon, sparsely, but as needed. Random inspections by Nyctan security patrols ensured that nothing but the absolute most necessary supplies ever made it to the moon. And nothing ever made it back down to the surface of the planet except empty containers.

Raphine pulled back on the joystick of the Falcon, heavy drop ship and climbed toward the greenish-blue atmosphere of Thessalonica. As the ship peaked above the wispy clouds and stalled in the stratosphere, she glanced up at the encroaching darkness and glimpsed the outline of a massive Nyctan Vespa class destroyer lingering above the moon. Her ship’s thrusters choked on the thin atmosphere and she rolled the sluggish craft over onto its back and guided the ship back toward the surface.

White vapor trails looped themselves into a figure eight as they trailed the Falcon dropship back down toward the rolling dunes and patchwork of oasis settlements scattered across the moon’s surface. Water-evaporators, which syphoned the precious liquid from deep inside the moon and turned it into breathable air, exuded a constant stream of white spray that replenished the Thessalonica’s atmosphere.

Out of the cockpit canopy, she watched as a series of small explosions flashed in sequence down on the surface. She knew it could be only one thing: Danica had finally tracked down her bounty.

Raphine smiled to herself and then flipped on the autopilot. She’d circle above the disturbance like a Torvian hawk circling high above an unsuspecting field mouse, and monitor the situation. If things went south, she’d swoop down, supply cover fire, and evacuate Danica out of there ASAP.

But it wasn’t like she was worried. Ever since the loss of her and Jegra’s child, Danica had been extremely cold and distant. And it wasn’t only their son she’d lost. She had lost Jegra, too, in a manner of speaking.

The Empress had fallen into a deep coma after the incident and, like the hallmark sleeping princess of the fairy stories that Jegra had shared, lending Raphine her personal favorite books to read whenever she liked, she knew that it would take more than true love’s kiss to awaken the sleeping empress.

In the meantime, she watched Danica cope the best she could. And she coped rather well, Raphine thought, by turning her anger into something productive and becoming a full-time bounty hunter. Not only did it give her an outlet to unleash her never-ending rage, but Danica had proved to be a rather talented manhunter, bringing in a constant stream of illegals and other criminals.

What Raphine hadn’t anticipated in all this, though, was that Danica would start using again. And this time it seemed that she didn’t care what the Nividium 3 would do to her. She just wanted that momentary high, that few seconds of mindless bliss.

And then there was one drunken night when they reminisced about the good old days, drank way too much wine and Dragonian brandy, and fell into bed together. It was a one-time thing. They both needed the other to act as a soothing balm for their pain. In that moment, in that desperate time of need, they were there for each other, and it had all just seemed right somehow.

Besides, the raw attraction between them made perfect sense. They trained together; fought together. And in the evenings, they consoled one another, a physical necessity now, seeing as ghosts haunted the empty corridors of the once thriving palace they lived in. They both knew it was bound to happen at some point on their road. So often did they feel compromised and in need of each other’s comfort.

Raphine didn’t regret that it had happened, but she did try her best to put it in the past. In spite of everything they shared, it wasn’t a relationship that was realistic, let alone sustainable. It was what it was. Simple, brief, and bittersweet.

Raphine flipped on the comm. Hey, you. How’s it going down there? I see you’re tearing up the terrain rather nicely.

No time to chat, Danica’s voice came back through the comm. She spoke loudly as the noise of what sounded like jet turbines droned in the background. I have this son of a bitch in my crosshairs, and I’m not letting him get away. Not this time.

THE ELECTRIC POWERED turbines on the dune buggy roared over Danica’s shouting. She raced at high speeds, somewhat recklessly, across a scorched desert terrain in pursuit of her bounty.

After a year of collecting bounties, she’d worked her way up the ladder of petty criminals to the kingpin himself, the drug lord and seemingly untouchable Gerard Van Zallek. What’s more, Zallek had proven to be as slippery as a Brilaxian eel, so to speak. But her resolve was unfailing.

This was the man who’d gotten her addicted to an experimental drug from which she overdosed and nearly died, and she was out to make him pay. The fact that he’d taken advantage of her, using her to hurt those she cared most about, well, she’d punish him painfully. If he was very lucky, she wouldn’t beat him to death with her bare hands but would toss him in the top max prison and let him rot away in a private cell for the rest of his miserable life.

I have you now, you spineless, knuckle-dragging tosser, she roared above the screaming of her turbines. Kicking her head back in her seat, her purple-turquoise ombre hair falling across her shoulder, she floored it. The buggy’s giant, paddle-tread tires kicked up a spray of sand nearly two stories high.

The jet engines she’d affixed to the dune buggy did their part, and she jammed the throttle up to full. Shooting over a medium-sized sand dune the vehicle soared momentarily in the air with an impressive hang time before crashing back down into the sand with a padded thump followed by another sky-high wake of sand jutting out behind it.

It had taken her eight months and sixteen days to track down Gerard Van Zallek’s secret manufacturing facility and shut it down—by dropping a tungsten rod on it from orbit. Sadly, he wasn’t there when she’d destroyed the place.

With the manhunt in full swing, it took her another four months before she finally got wind of his whereabouts. Each time she caught up, however, he’d always find a way to evade her. As it turned out, the man was like a snake, slithering out of every trap she set for him.

But not this time. This time she had him right where she wanted him. In her sights, on the run, with nowhere to go.

Zallek adjusted his sunglasses, then rose up from the passenger seat, blaster in one hand, the other firmly gripping the lip of the windshield, as his driver gunned it to try to lose the overzealous hag chasing them.

Of course, running wouldn’t be enough. She’d caught scent of him, and Zallek knew that she would doggedly pursue him to the end of a thousand worlds. That was the type of crazy he was dealing with here.

He leaned over to his driver amid the roar of the engine and yelled something that was lost on the rush of wind and the sound of revving engines. The ATV pulled a hard right and plowed into a drift, and Zallek, swinging wide, took careful aim of his pursuer. He’d only get one shot at this.

Danica, of course, followed suit, and the two vehicles became locked in a tight donut, circling one another like two alpha sharks about to settle a territorial dispute.

A halo of sand plumed high from the speeding pirouette as Zallek trained his blaster, resting his forearm across the roll bar of his ATV to help steady his hand and get off a clean shot. Peering over the rims of his dark tinted shades he fired once sending a green plasma bolt zipping between the two vehicles.

Danica yelped when the blast hit her left arm—a lucky shot. Cringing she looked down at her singed and smoldering clothes doing her best to ignore the pain. She slammed her foot down on the brakes and throttled down the turbines bringing the buggy skidding to a halt in the sand.

In the distance between them, Zallek could be heard laughing above the rumble of his engine as they tore away from Danica’s location. She looked up in time to see him shoot her a smug look, knowing he’d bested her again, and give her a two-finger salute as a taunting goodbye.

Frack! Danica growled frustrated that he was getting away. She smashed her right fist down on the leather-wrapped steering wheel and screamed.

Still feeling the sting of the blast, she reached over and tore off the singed sleeve of her jacket and tossed it out the side of the buggy where the wind took it. It fluttered spastically away in the backdraft of the idling turbines.

She inspected the wound on her metal arm; the area that had been shot melted briefly into a metallic liquid; in the very next instant, the wound quickly filled itself in and a fresh layer of metallic skin congealed into place rendering her arm as good as new.

Wholly mended, Danica raised her clenched fist, opening and closing it repeatedly, flexing her metallic muscles out of sheer amazement that everything had been perfectly restored just as it had been before she’d been shot. Amazing, she murmured to herself, admiring her high-tech arm.

Although it had cost her some major credits, Danica was happy with splurging on the self-healing memory metal upgrades. As far as prosthetic limbs went, it sure beat having to tinker with a clunky mechanical arm all the time trying to keep it in working order.

Nice try, asshole, she said, gripping the steering wheel tightly with both hands—one lavender and one silver—and wrenching it in her fists so that the leather wrap whined and squeaked under duress. But you’ll have to do better than that if you’re going to shake me this time.

With renewed determination, Danica spun the car back around, carving out a figure eight and kicking up another wall of sand in her wake.

Once she had gotten the nose of the buggy in-line with Zallek’s tracks, she jammed the throttle up to full and the thrust of the turbines slammed her back into her seat.

Her purple-turquoise hair whipping along in the open space behind the headrest, she pulled down her goggles and aimed for the large dune off to the left of Zallek’s tracks. He was circling around the dune in an attempt to lose her, but she had other plans.

The souped-up dune buggy hit the sandbank at two-hundred twenty-five kilometers per hour. Reaching for the dash she flipped up a red tab safety cover revealing a large red button. As she approached the cusp of the dune, she mashed the button and the throat of the jet nozzle opened wide as the afterburners ignited to full.

Triple shock diamonds formed in the tail of the afterburn as the custom buggy flew off the apex of the dune and out into the open air. Of all the jumps she’d ever attempted, this was the most insane, reckless—and thrilling!

Zallek looked up in time to see Danica’s entire vehicle flying through the air like a flaming boulder launched from an ancient catapult—the kind barbarian warlords on primitive worlds often used to fend off Dagon landing parties. And in that moment he knew she was completely out of her mind.

Worse still, she was on a direct collision course for him.

At the last minute, he panicked and reached across the chest of his driver, grabbed the wheel, and jerked it as hard as he could to the right. Before his car could even respond to the abrupt direction change, however, Danica’s front bumper plowed into his rear fender at a forty-five-degree angle and an impossible to escape downward momentum.

Metal grinding against metal, Zallek’s ATV violently spun out of control, flipped up onto its side and tumbled three times before landing upside down where it scraped to a halt in the soft sand.

Simultaneously, the front bumper of Danica’s car bit into sand at an extreme pitch, overturned, and was flung into the air from the excess momentum, spiraling violently as it became airborne. Her buggy went up and over Zallek’s landing on the opposite side of his with a harsh thud, rolling twice, then settling onto the roll cage.

In the collision, one of the turbines tore off and launched itself into the sky. Untethered, it zipped away in a zig-zag fashion like a balloon darting aimlessly about until, finally, it crashed back down several meters away in a fiery explosion.

Wreckage lay strewn about, some of it still on fire, as a ghastly silence fell across the scene.

A GLOVED HAND SHOT out of the sand, followed closely by Danica’s violet face. Gasping for breath, she simultaneously coughed and spat up sand as she clawed her way out from underneath her overturned vehicle.

Luckily for her the roll bar had protected her from any serious injury, minus a minor case of whiplash. Seeing as the buggy had sunk fairly deep into the sand at a slightly skewed angle, she needed to squeeze out between the bottom part of the upturned ATV and the ground.

The loose sand didn’t make pushing her way out any easier, either, as every time she made any headway she’d merely slide back down into the cavity of the buggy’s cockpit.

Black smoke trailed into the sky over the various scorch marks left in the wake of the wreckage of both vehicles, along with a field of scrap metal that glinted in the mid-afternoon sun.

Somewhere a faint voice emitted from a buried radio smothered in sand. Danica, are you all right? Dani, do you copy?

Gah! Zallek emerged from the sand and gasped for air.

After catching his breath, he began pawing at the sand to get out from under his overturned ATV. His driver came up beside him and together they dug their way out from under the crushing weight of the vehicle.

At the same time, Danica was still digging herself out from under her own dune buggy. She looked over at them scrambling to try and beat her to the punch; she knew, just like the fights in the arena, the first person back on their feet usually prevailed.

It didn’t help matters that Zallek’s blaster lay in the sand an equal distance away from both their locations. Spotting the gun lying there, as if offering itself up to the victor, they turned to face one another, their eyes meeting with a familiar recognition.

Their dire expressions made it clear to them both that they shared the same thought. First one to get the gun wins. Not wasting another glance, both parties began to double-time their efforts, digging more frantically and kicking up sand everywhere.

Zallek was the first to free himself, but in his zeal to get to his feet he tripped over himself and bit the dirt. His sunglasses fell off and bounced to a stop an arm’s reach in front of him. He swiftly retrieved his shades and placed them back on his face before scrambling back to his feet.

When he stood up, he saw that his hired man was closer to the gun than he was and thrust his chin desperately towards it, urging his man to hurry up and get it before Danica did.

Of course, Danica had two things they didn’t—resolve, and a mother-fracking-bionic arm. Adrenaline surged throughout her entire body as she quickly sprang to her feet and marched toward Zallek and his henchman. Her fists tightened into compact wrecking balls which she planned to use to make him regret the day he’d ever crossed paths with the likes of her.

She knew the thrashing wouldn’t fix all the wrongs he’d dealt her, but it sure as Helios would feel good.

Zallek’s hired man made it to the blaster first and quickly drew it up. Aiming the weapon with unsteady hands, he sneered as he fired it at Danica.

The first shot went wild, pinging off the sand, making a scorching sound as it did. Realizing that the sights were off, his sneer melted into worry as the woman with a metal arm relentlessly closed in on him. Worse still, her eyes burned with a fury hotter than any flame and, in that raging fire, he could see an unconcealed desire to pummel him into meat jelly.

The gap between them closing, he hastily fired off another blast. This time his aim was on target, but Danica threw up her metal arm and deflected the shot. The plasma bolt bounced back toward him and, impacting directly in front of his feet, sent up a spray of sand—some of it getting into his eyes.

Argh, I can’t see! he yelped. He staggered back and tried to open his eyes, but the sting of the sand blast forced him to close them again. Taking a wild guess as to where Danica was, he fired off a random shot. And then another.

Determined not to let her get to him, he drew backward and continued firing off a consecutive series of rapid shots.

Finally, he managed to crack open one eye just enough to find that she was nearly upon him, a stone’s throw away. He screamed as he unloaded everything he had into her.

This time, however, she was ready for it. Throwing up a blue energy shield, her Dygra crystal glowing in her chest, the plasma bolts ricocheted off the forcefield and deflected back toward the idiot who kept firing at her.

Off to the sidelines Zallek scurried out of range of the blaster fire and dove to the ground to bury his head in the sand.

One of the bolts bounced back and hit him squarely. He stopped firing. A stunned look on his face, he looked down to see that the plasma bolt had burrowed inside his chest. Suddenly, a searing pain tore throughout every nerve fiber in his body and he let out a most wretched scream.

As the shock set in, his organs boiling from the inside out, he dropped his weapon and then, clutching his chest, sank to his knees.

Unable to comprehend that like a fool he’d inadvertently killed himself, he looked up at Danica, astonished. The look of astonishment faded into a blank expression as the life drained from his eyes and then, teetering ever so slightly to the left, he fell sideways and crumpled to the ground.

Not slowing her stride for a nanosecond, Danica stepped up to Zallek with the intent to mangle him. Alarmed, he threw up his arms defensively and began to back away from her, taking one additional step back for every step forward she took.

Let’s talk about this, Dani. You and I have history. We go way back, you and I. You owe me at least that much.

I owe you squat, Zallek. You used me, she snarled. And, now, it’s my turn to use you. As my personal punching bag.

A metal fist came arching around in a vicious right hook and planted itself squarely across his left cheekbone. A resounding thwack and Zallek collapsed to one knee.

Stunned from the harsh blow he reached up to touch his jaw which felt rather numb. Something rattled around in his mouth and he spat up some blood-laced saliva and along with it a tooth. You bitch, he mumbled.

What did you call me? she asked, her metal hand tightening into a fist, her arm flexing with the raw power of mechanical strength.

Zallek slowly turned his gaze toward Danica, staring up at her from behind half-shattered lenses. Before he could react, however, a second, even more unforgiving blow, met the side of his blue temple.

His mouth full of sand, Zallek pushed himself up to his hands and knees and spat out a muddy wad of dirt. The completely shattered sunglasses were left disregarded on the sand next to him.

When he saw Danica’s foot take another step toward him, he scurried back, scuttling on all fours like a hermit crab in reverse. Falling onto his ass, he threw up a defensive hand and pleaded with her to have mercy.

Wait! After everything we’ve been through. Somewhere...deep down inside...I know you still have feelings for me.

Although it was certainly news to her, she pretended to mull it over for a moment. Then, with a shrug, she replied, Actually, I do have one overwhelming feeling for you. The urge to punch you in your stupid blathering mouth so hard that you’ll have to shove a toothbrush up your ass just to brush your teeth.

If you spare me, he said, changing tact, considering he wasn’t getting anywhere with his previous line of impetration, I’ll make it worth your while. I’ll make you an equal partner. Yeah, that’s right! I’ll split the revenue right down the middle. Thinking her brief pause was meant to hear him out, he quickly continued, Just think about it, Danica. I can make you rich beyond your wildest dreams. Don’t be a fool and throw it all away simply for something as childish as revenge.

Danica smiled. She raised her shiny metal fist high in the air and brought it down with a definitive blow to his head.

Zallek’s lights went out like a bulb, and he hit the dirt with a harsh thud.

Casually bending over him, Danica threaded her metallic fingers through a tuft of his white hair. A subtle smile forming at one corner of her mouth, she trudged off into the desert, schlepping Zallek’s limp body behind her like an oversized ragdoll, his feet leaving narrow traces in the sand.

3

APembroke corgi paddled his stumpy white legs as he floated weightlessly across the passenger cabin of the Ares III’s civilian section. Although the little animal was treading quite vigorously, he wasn’t getting very far as he tried to make his way across to the other side, where his owner was strapping into their