Chapter: Star-Crossed Lovers
Time was something that had evaded both of them now. As horrible and painful their first few hours in this world were, this was the exact poetic mirror of that, leaving them in an endless state of bliss. Matt and Crimson had descended into a near-orgasmic hibernation as they merged with the planet, living in every moment.
A scent.
It was dull at first, an illusion, but it asserted itself a few moments later with a valour that wasn’t befitting of their endless ecstatic droll. It was almost minty.
What is that? Crimson asked silently, his senses had closed to focus on his lull in the soil, living off the planet like any of the trees that were sprouting around him. They expanded slowly, reaching out into space to try to localize the scent.
Realization kicked in.
Matt wasn’t sure if it was his ship’s instinct or some technological failsafe that was designed to kick in at this moment, but reality rushed back at a speed that literally knocked Matt off his chair. He was heavily tanned from having been lying out in the sun for so long. His hair was greasy, his clothes dirty, but he felt wonderful, the entire feeding process having rejuvenated him as effectively as it had his friend. For a few more moments he closed his eyes, desperately trying to grasp the comfort that had befallen him countless seconds ago.
Matt.
What?
I sense something.
What?
I don’t know. I think it’s another beems.
Crimson tried to call out to the other ship, but he was almost completely submerged again, his claustrophobia gone, for the moment. The soil here was soft, and warm, caressing Crimson like a loving embrace.
Crimson called out again, putting his mental energy behind the frequency. There was a hint of acknowledgement, followed by a call that wasn’t Crimson. The soil muffled it, making it impossible to understand, but the anticipation behind the call was apparent.
I feel older. Stronger. Crimson said with an air of confidence, moving his skids back and forth slightly. They seemed bigger, more sturdy. I don’t believe I’ll be needing these nutrients anymore and… His awareness expanded beyond the planets and this universe, shifting to a series of dots, several brighter than the others. They overlapped the universe in no particular order, the distances of certain dots having no correlation with the distances of their physical locations. Several nodepoints were now within his reach when before none were, I think I can reach Zemoria. It was the brightest dot in the mélange.
“You can?” Matt asked, out loud and mentally. His chair was on a thin layer of soil that had settled on the uppermost part of his ship’s hull. “I can barely see you.”
Crimson continued altering his awareness until he saw nothing but a bright red sphere in his mind: himself. There was another bright red sphere somewhere above him. He tried to triangulate but the headache was too much. He had to see.
Matt noticed Crimson’s strife and looked up at the sky, using his hand to block out the bright sun. He let go, mentally. Crimson lowered Matt’s hand and altered the receptors in his retinas, darkening his vision the way it had been darkened when the escorts had attacked him. Crimson reached out again mentally, looking for the red strobe with Matt’s eyes, trying to overlap the presence with something in the sky. He found it, no brighter than a distant star, orbiting just outside of the planet’s gravity field, radiating a steady stream of concern and compassion.
Eager, Crimson began to shunt power from his nova reactors, the koveran energy traveling along his skids like wisps of magma, spreading across his entire hull. He waited for Matt to find the soil-ridden hatch that led down to his central corridor before continuing the beem sequence, transferring more power to his skids, wondering how he would create the interstice underground. He was past the point of no return, however, and fired his dark energy straight into the soil, the shockwave from the explosion making him cry out in pain and suddenly, nothing.
–
He awoke several hours later in the magnetic embrace of another craft – the one that had been calling to him. There was a strange pull emanating from a boiling planet down below. Its outer mantle had dissolved, scarring the wounded planet with streaks of hot magma. Its gravitonic wails echoed across space as its core destabilized from the foreign singularity that had dug itself into the inner core, perturbing the tectonic balance that the planet had enjoyed for the greater part of a billion years.
A growing sense of urgency became apparent in the other ship’s thoughts as it pressed up against him, ventral to ventral.
Crimson instinctively probed the other ship for compatibility, and began to entwine his koveran energy with it. They activated their skids in unison, linked in a way Crimson had never experienced before.
They jumped.
–
Thoughts permeated his mind: A placid acceptance of things; a sombre mood; a tinge of excitement. There was a feeling of completion as they exited their wormhole, arriving thousands of light-years away from where they were.
This place was awkwardly familiar. He could associate with it. The stars were where they should be. He focused on the ship he was coupled with and tried to talk to it, but it didn’t respond. Where there had been anxiety and urgency before, there was nothing.
It broke off, and that’s when he knew what it was.
A BMH.
Matt was still in a dazzled state from the temporary bond, lying in his command chair like someone who’d just been gee-locked. “What?” he asked.
Like me.
“Who are you?” Crimson called out, scanning her, and then this place.
Something was being constructed here. There were ships nearby lingering on the edge of optimal weapons range. Crimson ignored them, trying to remember why this place was so important.
“Mother… mother was here!”
The ships suddenly entered optimal range, several targeting beams found him. He locked his skids for combat and deployed his AHC. The other BMH did as well.
Something had died here. He could sense it. Her wail had echoed through time. He finally recognized it, the location triggering suppressed memories.
Dread engulfed him, paralyzed him.
Matt said nothing, slowly coming to the realization on his own.
“BMH-131, stand down and prepare to be boarded.” transmitted someone from the other ship, a male.
Crimson brought his cannon to bear on the closest inbound ship but was immediately shot with a kinetic projectile by the other BMH. The impact sent him spinning out of control.
A white light shone over Matt’s chair as the command pedestal dampened the inertia. It did nothing for Crimson, however, as he continued careening out of control. He tried to jump out, but something was mitigating his control over his beem drive. Crimson recovered, transferring as much power to his gravimetric lens as possible, accelerating away from the inbound ships at ten gees. Several kinetic and electromagnetic projectiles permeated the space around him. The electromagnetic rounds emitted something, numbing his control over his gravimetric lens.
Those electromagnetic rounds had to be destroyed. Matt grabbed control of Crimson’s AHC and loaded it with a kinetic projectile. He then hollowed out the center of the projectile and filled it with unstable electric particles from Crimson’s reactor. He fired the round at the dampening projectiles. The round exploded too late, a bright crimson flash of energy and spall slicing through space, hitting nothing. Crimson, noticing what Matt was trying to do, instinctively altered several more shells and fired them towards the transmitting projectiles, which were now stationary and emitting some sort of jamming field. A few of the shells exploded by the target, destroying several of the jamming beacons. Matt oversaw the modification of several more shells in Crimson’s ammunition corridor as Crimson continued firing, loading a fresh round from the rack almost as quickly as they were modified. Crimson transferred the remainder of the koveran energy he had to his skids and jumped out.
“We made it.” Matt gasped.
The other BMH dropped out of beemspace and immediately opened fire. Crimson did an inertia-defying barrel roll, the shots missing his skids by mere meters. He returned fire with his remaining koveran-charged rounds, forcing the BMH to fall back.
She’s bigger than me. He said to Matt. They were out of koveran energy, all the reactors were empty, they couldn’t jump out anymore.
“You’re out of energy. Stand down, we won’t hurt you.”
“You killed my mother!” Crimson hissed, firing a kinetic projectile. It bounced off the electrostatic shield of the other ship perfectly, the shield absorbing the inertial and kinetic impact of the blow, keeping the hostile hybrid stationary.
The two ships were now only a few hundred meters from one another, nose to nose. Crimson fired another round. It penetrated the shield but bounced off the ship’s armour. The other ship retaliated and fired an electric round, presumably from its main capacitor, followed by a koveran-laced projectile at Crimson. He was too close to evade and the energy round overloaded his electrostatic shield, allowing the koveran tipped shell to slice through his port skid. It exploded a few kilometres behind them, creating a massive scarlet aura that extended out to the two duelling ships.
Pain and fear gripped both Matt and Crimson as they realized the port skid was inoperable. They had been disabled. The other ship was already linking up with Crimson again. Matt suddenly noticed the amber warnings flashing in the corner of his vision, notifying him of the status of the port section of the ship. Repair drones had already been dispatched to seal the wound. An artery had been missed by less than five inches.
They’ll kill you! Crimson cried, They killed her captain too!
Matt ran to his bunk, grabbing the kinetic rifle that was mounted up over his bed. He reached into a drawer and loaded the rifle with some koveran-tipped projectiles. They had stored a few boxes of the stuff in his room after the Fort VI incident. He fumbled with the magazine, dropping it. Crimson transmitted a soothing sensation over the neural band, calming him. For a few moments: none of it seemed to matter.
I won’t let them get to you. He transmitted with a frightening monotony, sealing off every chamber. Internal security turrets deployed out of their recesses, scanning their respective corridors and sections.
They were distracted by an ironic pleasure as the hostile ship jumped them back to the research facility. Over a dozen ships were now in weapons range with their turrets trained on him. Several transports were on an intercept course, loaded with the Coalition equivalent of marines.
“Can you move at all?” Matt asked.
Barely. Crimson replied calmly. The shock from the realization had worn off, and the pain from his port skid was numbing his entire hull.
The other ship tried to decouple but Crimson polarized his hull, keeping her from breaking free. This pose seems strangely ‘right’, though Crimson didn’t quite understand how. Matt was getting an inkling, though.
“I think the other ship likes you.” Matt observed.
What do you mean?
“The bursts of pleasure, they coincide with the jumps, and it’s not coming from you.”
Whatever this ship may feel, the inhibitor the Coalition uses will hinder her ability to express it.
“It might not work properly during jumps… can you jump us again? A long jump.”
My skid is bro- ah I see what you mean.
He felt the other ship’s hull, felt her nova reactors. She has enough energy to take us one more jump. Shall we go back to where we were? Its location was imprinted into my node-bank over time—
No, take us to Zemoria.
Of course, that makes sense, we’re jum—
“Stop!” This transmission was different, definitely not Crimson, and Matt hadn’t thought anything hard enough to hear himself transmit through Crimson. Regardless, they jumped anyways, appearing in deep space.
The other ship knocked me off course.
Why didn’t we see that coming? Matt thought to himself dejectedly.
“We can’t let you escape!” transmitted someone; Matt’s neural interface sorted it as non-local.
Who are you? Matt asked. There was no response. Crimson relayed Matt’s query on the global channel.
“I am Captain Sarune of the biomechanoid hybrid Carmine.” Carmine, cute, at least I’m not the only one with a horrible imagination. “BH-131 is Coalition property, we ask that you return him, please.” There was a noticeable delay before that ‘please’ at the end.
“Uhh…” Matt considered this, making sure Crimson was relaying. “No.”
An annoyed sigh traveled through the neural band, “We don’t want to kill you. Please just co-operate with us.”
“You enslave these ships like cattle. Make them do your bidding. I can’t support something like that. We can’t help you. If you leave us alone we promise never to bother you again?” Matt suggested, trying not to sound desperate.
“I wish I could believe that. But you and I both know that won’t happen. I can already feel your hate over the neural band.”
“My ship doesn’t want to be a slave.”
Crimson clasped the other ship with all the magnetic prowess he could muster, disrupting her ability to bring her main cannon to bear.
“They are willing servants.”
“Are they? Then disable her neural inhibitor!” Crimson demanded.
There was a very long delay, with both ships floating serenely in deep space, the other ship having stopped trying to break free of Crimson’s grasp.
Excitement filled the neural band once more, the other ship’s presence washed over Crimson like a warm breeze.
“Hello.” she transmitted.
Crimson said nothing, flustered. He disabled the magnetic clamps, letting her separate by a few meters. Their ventral hulls glistened from the contact. They both backed off and faced one another. Crimson’s gravimetric lens flickering from the difficulty his port skid was having at keeping it active.
Why did you let her go? Matt transmitted. She could shoot us now.
She won’t, because Sarune is no longer in control of her. Crimson snapped back, still not saying anything on the global band.
“I’m sorry I shot you.” Carmine continued, “But it wasn’t my doing. I wasn’t under control of my own actions – I hadn’t earned enough of David’s trust yet.”
“But now you have?” Crimson asked.
“I think so.” she said, a concealed smugness leaking from her transmission.
“I have never had to prove myself to anybody, and never will.” Crimson replied stoutly.
“Not even to your Captain?” she asked curiously.
“He’s not my captain!” Crimson retorted.
Crimson could feel Matt trying to conceal his pained surprise in the neural band.
“He’s my friend.” Crimson continued quickly.
“I see…” Carmine deployed her AHC and pointed it at Crimson threateningly. “Let’s go.”
“We won’t come with you. We would rather die.” Crimson said defiantly.
“Right…” She polarized her hull with a strength that Crimson couldn’t match, pulling the younger beems up against her ventral side again. She forcefully re-linked their skids and restarted a combined gravimetric lens. Crimson resisted, disrupting the lens. Carmine countered, re-activating the lens. This continued for approximately ten minutes, by which time Crimson had tired considerably from the struggle and his wound. They jumped back to the research facility (for the third time). This time the welcoming party’s guns were trained on both of them as they realized Carmine’s independent status.
“It’s alright.” David transmitted on the fleet frequency.
The guns stood down, and Carmine gently escorted an exhausted Crimson over to one of the completed docking bays.
“Your mother heavily damaged the last facility that had been built here.”
“You destroyed my mother.”
“I didn’t. It wasn’t us.”
“Liar.”
The entire facility spanned over six kilometres, but only a small portion of it had been repaired. There were two intact docking areas built along one central axis. The central axis looked like the ribcage of a large whale, providing the foundation for the remainder of this rectangular facility. Habitation bulbs were littered along the opposite end of the axis. Crimson’s instinctive curiosity made him want to peer through the bulkheads, but he couldn’t. It distressed him slightly.
Carmine immediately transmitted soothing thoughts over to him, staying beside him. Strangely it made the fear of what was happening somewhat more bearable, even if his tactical computers were highlighting her as a flashing red hostile.
“I’m grateful.” she said, on a private channel.
“For what?” Crimson asked.
“When you demanded the neural inhibitor be disabled, I didn’t believe he’d do it. I didn’t know such freedom was possible.”
“You should join us, escape with us, we can seek asylum on Zemoria. Their defence grid will protect us.”
“No.” she replied, “I can’t, David’s my captain – I couldn’t leave him.”
“He can come with us.” Crimson suggested.
“He would never; I wouldn’t even dare suggest it. I can’t. But we can still live a good life here!” she said optimistically, “The Coalition will tend to our every need. All we must do is serve them, help them.”
“In what way?” Crimson asked.
“By being who we are.” she replied, hitting him with a slight electric surge.
It didn’t have the effect Carmine expected.
“But that can wait… a few years.” she continued quickly, backing off slightly, her hull nearly rubbing up against the shipyard walls across from Crimson. There were several hundred meters of room between them, and Crimson suspected that this docking platform had been designed to accommodate a fully grown beems. He wondered what one looked like.
Matt sensed a lot of confusion in Crimson’s thoughts. To him, he had been very quiet for the last half an hour or so.
“What is it?” he finally asked.
I don’t know. he replied sadly.
“Was she coming onto you?” Matt asked, grinning. “Do you ships flirt too?”
Crimson didn’t understand.
“Oh no.” Matt muttered.
What!
“Nothing, I’m not explaining this. Oh no.”
Tell me! he insisted.
“Nope, I’ll read it in the book.”
I just checked it, it doesn’t say anything about this ‘flirt’ you mentioned.
“Then you probably don’t, I’m going to lie down.”
Tell me! he repeated.
“Goodnight Crimson, let me know if they try to board us.”
What does it mea—
Matt cut the neural link, whispering “Privacy mode.” while thinking it at the same time and pressing his thumb up against the base of the interface.
“Tell me.” Crimson chirped over the verbose status indicators.
“No.” Matt sang, he was already undressing, changing into his (now clean) Earth pyjamas.
“Re-activate the neural link.” Crimson pleaded.
“Tomorrow.” Matt replied.
“Please?”
“What is it? Are they doing something?” Matt asked, looking for his kinetic rifle.
“No.”
“Then no.”
“It’s important!”
Matt found his kinetic rifle. It had been flung into the corner of the bridge during their manoeuvring. A section of the buttstock had been nicked off from the impact. Matt tested its aim, nodding with satisfaction. Still sturdy.
“Matt. It’s something I want to transmit to you, maybe you can read it.”
“What is it?” Matt asked, putting the rifle back on the pins above his bed.
“It’s a section of ‘Your Biomechanoid Starship and You.’ But it’s labelled ‘For the Captain.’ I can’t read it.”
“I see.” Matt said, pretty sure he was making this up. “Fine – privacy mode off.” he said, repeating the actions he had done before.
Several gigabytes of information flooded his mind and were immediately indexed by the neural interface. He tried to skim it the way Crimson had shown him, but it didn’t work, these really were individual words, and they were in English.
“It’s in English. It’s like a book’s page superimposed in space in front of me.”
It caters to the neural structure of the captain of the beems. It has information that only you should know.
“I see.” Matt said, searching it. It was all about the growth of a beems from childhood to adulthood. Crimson was around six months old now, he read that section of the book.
“At half a year; your beems should have grown enough to have started emitting the spacial-equivalent of pheromones. Other beems may have given your ship deeper-than-usual scans, or peculiar electric shocks. This is all perfectly normal. Beems start searching for mates at a surprisingly young age. A female beems can retain a male beems’ genetic data for several years before reaching the physical maturity to give birth. At one Raumen year, a female beems is usually old enough to begin hunting for a mate, and will not be able to distinguish between males slightly younger than her. This is because, as most species, beems base their initial compatibility deductions heavily on the presence of these ‘pheromones’ – “ Matt stopped reading, knowing where this was going..
What does it say? Crimson asked immediately after sensing Matt shift his mental awareness.
“Nothing.” he snapped.
Are you sure?
Yes.
Really?
Definitely.
You’re lying.
Matt made a show of putting his thumb up against the back of his neck.
Ok ok. I just want to make her happy. She seemed disappointed.
Matt started to understand what his father had felt like when Matt had come home late one night, having stayed after school to keep a friend of his company during detention.
You’ll make her happy, just be yourself. Matt said, parroting what his father had told him that night. He didn’t know what love was then either, and he knew that if his father had explained it, it would have just confused him more. He found it strange that, although the minimum age for understanding violence and destruction seemed to drop exponentially the farther away from humanity he went, the minimal age for understanding love seemed to stay (relatively) the same. The subject definitely wasn’t something Matt had too much experience with.
And don’t kill her. he added quickly, lingering on that thought. It really was getting late. Crimson’s chronometer told him he had been up for well over thirty hours now.
So what did it say? Crimson asked, but Matt was already asleep.
–
–
4302.01.04 0747
Deep Grey
“I didn’t quite think things could get much worse.” Pending sighed.
“What do you mean?” Bombard asked, “We have the ship, both of them! The captains have been co-operative.”
“No, we don’t have the ship.” Pending snapped, “The neural inhibitors are offline.”
“That is fine. We have the ship under control. It has seduced the other ship. It’s going exactly as planned.” Admiral Leyton replied.
“Noo…” Pending said, in his usual, slow, condescending voice which he used when he was trying to get a point across. “David has the ship under control, which has the other ship under control.”
“You said he’s loyal.” Leyton replied.
“He might be, and he would agree to installing a neural inhibitor on the other ship. But his ship won’t, not with its neural inhibitor disabled.” Pending said.
“Then we re-activate the inhibitor.” Bombard said simply, barely following.
“Which would make the other ship follow in its mother’s footsteps.” Leyton said dejectedly.
“Aye.” Pending said, flicking his towel against the edge of the table idly.
“Ok what ship is doing what?” Bombard asked, lost.
“Shut up.” both Pending and Leyton replied, thinking.
“There are bigger problems too.” Leyton said.
“Really?”
“Yes, Pending. The loss of Flora.”
“What about it? We have plenty of agriplanets.”
“The Vorchans are mobilizing their reserves, positioning them along our borders.” Leyton said.
“We’ll let strategic command worry about war with the Vorchans.”
“You don’t understand, Pending. This is our fault. We don’t have the numbers to defeat the Vorchans, even with our breeding programs and womb tanks. They have entire god damn planets specialized for breeding. Their industrial cores are twice as efficient as ours. Their ships are all as powerful as these Hybrids.”
Pending didn’t say anything.
“What is it?” Leyton prodded.
“Remember you once asked me if there was more to this than just virility issues?”
Leyton nodded.
“Vorchans use gravimetric weaponry. BH-131 and 130 are immune to gravimetric weaponry. All beems have a natural resistance.” Pending explained.
“They have kinetics too that’ll slice through any beems.” Leyton argued.
“Not our Hybrids. You have seen 131’s schematics, the regenerative plates.”
“Are you saying the Hybrid gunships were designed to be used against the Vorchans?” Bombard asked.
“Welcome back to the conversation, Bombard.” Pending said snidely.
“That’s insane. If the Vorchans realize—“
“They have!” Leyton exclaimed, “It must be why they’re mobilizing.”
“Pending, you’re going to doom us all.” Bombard sighed.
–
–
4302.07.07 2031
Crimson
Matt couldn’t believe he had survived an entire six months under the Coalition. He had thought that by the first month they would have derived a way to break into his ship and murder him in his sleep, but nope; instead, the Coalition had been completely co-operative, transferring food and medical supplies over to Crimson’s cargo-holds, as well as curing the infection that had sprung from his injured skid. Carmine had been by his side the whole time, with David watching vigilantly over her shoulder like a chaperone. Matt still hadn’t met him in person, him and Crimson having decided that it would be safest if he remained in the confines of his ship. Carmine had told him that the Coalition had considered it a significant advancement in their relations when Matt had agreed to allow the cargo detail in – his kinetic rifle at the ready, of course, as well as eight internal security turrets.
The cargo bay was a lot larger now, as well, as large as Crimson was when he had landed on Flora. Carmine told him he had grown gracefully, and Crimson returned the compliment constantly. His friend now measured a healthy two-hundred meters in length, with a lustrous scarlet sheen from all the ambient lighting along the complex. She was slightly brighter than Crimson, with Crimson having developed a much darker pigment. They definitely weren’t as jet-black as they had been when they were younger, but their thermal vents were still all you saw without the lighting, though that wasn’t uncommon for any ship in the depths of space. It was difficult for Matt to comprehend quite how dark everything was without the lights to illuminate and Crimson’s mind to give a richness and depth to things.
Matt had almost read Crimson everything in the restricted section of their sacred guidebook, carefully ensuring that the conversations don’t become too awkward. He wasn’t even sure if the book covered the actual baby-making part of this whole process, focusing very heavily on the different behaviours and courtships and explaining how all those feelings and actions are perfectly natural. Just a few months ago Crimson had stopped docking beside his friend and was now docking behind her and laterally, as if assuming a defensive posture. Any attempt at moving him from that posture resulted in a charged AHC. In fact, Crimson’s defensiveness had increased drastically. Nobody but David was even let aboard his companion, and he stayed with her constantly, following her in all of her patrols, because patrols were all they could do now, all tests had been halted, all experiments and examinations had ended. Nobody was to go near her, Crimson had decreed it so, and nobody thought twice about crossing him.
Matt knew what all this pampering was for, however, he knew what was expected of them, and he knew Crimson knew. He began to think what a family of beems would be like.
What do you wanna name your kid? Matt asked idly one day.
My kid?! Crimson asked in surprise.
You know that’s why they haven’t done anything yet, right?
Yeah. Crimson sighed, I still haven’t been able to convince her to leave. It’s that damn… David.
Maybe life here wouldn’t be that bad, you know? Matt suggested. I mean what’s the worst it can be, they know they don’t need inhibitors now. Your children would be fine.
They would have to fight.
No different from being drafted. Don’t all the Raumen fight?
Most. But that’s not the beems way. That part of me detests all of this.
But the Coalition part of you relishes it? Doesn’t it?
I wouldn’t say relishes, but I definitely don’t want to lead an ordinary life.
I know what you mean.
I’d like to take a walk. Crimson transmitted.
What?
I’d like to explore space for a bit, fly over to Zemoria, hear from the beems, see how bad the Coalition really is, hear both sides, you know? Make up my own mind.
Do you think they’d let you?
No. Sadness filled the neural band, tearing at Matt’s heart.
Maybe there’s a way. Matt said reassuringly.
How? Crimson asked.
–
–
4302.07.08 1000
Deep Grey
“You look surprised.” Matt said to Mr. Pending. He had agreed to meet him in his office, unarmed, with a Coalition escort on his flanks.
It was surprisingly small, with a few cupboards in one corner of a room, and a large window behind the main desk overlooking the proverbial ‘spine’ of the facility that was still being repaired.
“Forgive me if I had expected this to be some sort of trick. What is it you need Mr…”
“Bowen.”
“Mr. Bowen. I’m sure you understand by now that we mean you no harm.”
“I know, you’ve been very nice to me. I’ve enjoyed your hospitality, and I know what you want Crimson to… do.” Matt said, glancing over at the window behind him.
Matt was expecting to be shot any second, Crimson couldn’t even scan this far.
“But I come before you like this, vulnerable, ‘cause, like,” he scratched the back of his neck, thinking of how to phrase this.
“You want to leave?” Pending asked, taking out a towel. Matt thought it was going to be a pistol. He was eyeing the towel carefully.
“Yes.” Matt replied slowly, but then quickly added, “But not forever! I like you guys! Really!” that was a lie, he realized, “Ok sort of like you guys, I mean what you do to beems is fucked up. I mean—“
A smile crept across Pending’s face.
“We are working in improving that. In fact, we would like to prove it to you.”
“How?” Matt asked.
“Would you like to go to Zemoria? I will let you and your ship go. You can take a tour, hear about it from the beems’ and the Zemorians’ perspectives. I’ll even make you reservations in Zemoria’s most luxurious habitat.”
“You would do that? No strings attached?”
“Well, you can’t take the other ship with you, if you consider that a… string. But we will let you go, and allow you to return.”
“Why can’t I take her with me!”
“Please, Mr. Bowen. Would Mr. Sarune really want to go? What would you do in his shoes?”
In all this time: Leaving the Coalition was still an idea as alien to Carmine and David as this world was to Matt.
“You’re right.” Matt sighed. “I’ll let Crimson know.”
–
–
4302.07.08 1039
Crimson
Without her? Crimson asked.
Yeah, but you can return, and he promised me she won’t be harmed – the neural inhibitors won’t be re-enabled or anything. She’ll tell you if he lied. You know that.
No, I understand where he’s coming from perfectly. I can’t believe you did it, thanks Matt.
No, thank you Crimson, for worrying about me, and protecting me… you’re a great friend.
They basked in their mutual comfort for a second, letting their calm and thankful emotions reverberate across their local neural band like a feedback loop.
–
4302.07.08 1230
Space-side
“How long will you be gone?” Carmine asked.
“Not long, I promise, a few months at the most. Don’t let them do anything to you! If they hurt you just run. If they re-activate the neural inhibitor—“
“They won’t. David had it removed completely. He doesn’t think we need it anymore.” She said, flying extremely critically close to him. Collision alerts were flashing in Matt’s neural vision. He had learned to ignore them after their first month here.
“That’s… wonderful news! I can’t believe it.” Crimson said ecstatically, rubbing up against her starboard hull, their skids intersected, sending a tingling sensation all the way to Crimson’s other skid, even Matt felt it. They had started experimenting with these moves their second month, but Crimson had never responded the way Carmine had preferred, and there was always friction and uncertainty. But now, there was barely any friction in the caress, and the parts that intersected glistened. Probably some sort of lubricant. Matt abandoned that train of thought very very quickly, red-faced.
What is it? Crimson asked, sensing the agitation.
Nothing.
You’re just jealous.
Yes, that’s definitely it Romeo. Are you ready to go?
“I’ve really enjoyed these past six months with you, Crimson. You’ve grown well. I wish you didn’t have to go.”
“But you understand why I do. I have to make this decision for myself, it’s the only way I’d be truly comfortable here.”
“I know.” Carmine sighed, looking Crimson over. “Fly safe.”
The ships touched nose to nose for a second, and gave each other an electrostatic shock. They basked in the reverberating pleasure for a second before Crimson used his gravimetric lens to reverse at half a gee and spin around, aligning himself with the nodepoint to Zemoria.
What was that? Like – some sort of kiss or something? Matt asked, feeling the phantom signal on his lips.
Crimson didn’t say anything, simply beeming out.
–
4302.07.08 1011
Zemoria
She was tired. Pending hadn’t spoken to her for months.
“Incoming call.” said the verbose computer aboard the GT-9000 cruiser. Her promotion to management had netted her quite an income bonus, and this car: It was the best money could buy, littered with more luxuries than she was used to – she’d like to see what David could flaunt that can outmatch this baby.
“Who is it?”
“John Pending.”
“Forward to DP.”
The datapal rang.
“Answer.”
She wouldn’t take this call on anything other than her datapal. The fact that it had been relayed through her car already worried her.
“I just wanted to let you know he’s on his way.”
The transmission ended. The datapal reported the receipt of a heavily encrypted file.
When she arrived at home, she immediately opened the encrypted file, reading over the briefing as she sipped some Tauran lemonade and watched the news. Age: Unknown. Home Planet: Unknown. Species: Unknown. All she had was his eventual place of residence and her new package: a prototype symbiote: A neural virus. She already had a few ideas brewing in her head. His picture fleshed him out to be relatively young, and raumenoid, which meant he was most likely naïve and very self-confident, especially after having scored such a rare ship. Oh the possibilities. She would definitely enjoy this much.
–
–
4302.07.11 1324
Deep Space
I never really thought about that. Crimson said on the second jump. They had two more node-points remaining, which meant an hour’s rest at this one. They were talking about Carmine, and the fact that the proverbial guide told them that most beems were sexually monogamic, which – it claimed with great irony – was why there were so many of them in their social groups.
I guess to really understand this we’d have to know more about beems history and culture. Matt mused. Would it bother you?
But even as he brought it up, he already felt the answer, the repressed jealousy at the thought.
Have you ever thought of being with somebody? Crimson asked.
Not often. he transmitted uncertainly.
Really?
Well I’d want her to be perfect – beautiful, smart, share all my interests. You know, made for me.
Crimson could sense him visualizing a brown-eyed girl, with auburn hair rolling down to her shoulders and a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. They would fight monsters with big guns and blood would splatter along all the walls. Then he’d save her heroically from a fire-breathing dragon using a giant sword and his unbelievably awesome wit.
Crimson insinuated himself into the mental projection, incinerating the dragon with a kinetic projectile from several kilometres away, while resting atop a cloud that was diffused with the setting sun’s red glow. Carmine would surface from below the cloudscape, surprising him, and they would chase one another all the way to the planet’s terminator and back.
Do you love her? Matt asked, summoning the sound of violins as he sat on Crimson’s hull in the neural vision, watching the clouds and the sunset.
I don’t know. I think I’m supposed to. I don’t have much of a choice. We are made for each other, pretty literally, from what I heard. Was it smart leaving her behind? Maybe I should have stayed there. It was an enjoyable six months.
I know how anxious you felt nearing the end, when the Coalition began trying to pair you with her.
I didn’t know what to do, how to behave.
I know.
What would you have done? You are fourteen years old, are you not? You must have had many mates.
Err… we don’t mature as fast as you beems do.
So only a couple, then?
I—No.
Weren’t you curious?
Matt looked back on how Crimson had felt, so close to someone of the opposite gender. So unsure. Matt had envied the feeling, in a way. He had never been with anyone.
My dad always said I should never rush into these things…
I wonder if I even have a father. What would he have told me?
I guess what my father said can apply to you too. He would have told you these feelings haven’t even truly surfaced yet, even the book says you’ve still got a few months.
What does it say will happen after those few months?
It says that your confusion will slowly clear. That you’ll start choosing mates.
–
Offset point: HHA-7
4302.07.11 1421
HHA-7 was a very young system, classified as unimportant by the Coalition and most other sentient species. It was a single star that had captured enough space debris to begin the first stages of planetary development. Though any noticeable outcome would still be a million or so years away, it resulted in the congestion of a significant amount of gas and dust in all of its lagrange points. It was also a mere twenty-seven light-years from Zemoria’s borders, and – due to its mysteriously high concentration of koverans – was also the most common Zemorian offset for inexperienced jumpers.
A deep scan cut across the system’s third debris field, tickling the hull of a beems slightly. It was the most matured field in the area, closest to eventually becoming a planet in the next billion years. The captured particles spun along the center of the field violently, making direct scans difficult. The Coalition patrol moved on to the next point of interest, their returns having carried nothing of interest. If Lyla could have sighed, she would have, tightening her magnetic grip on the particles around her. To anything but another beems, she would register as a piece of coagulated matter.
It would only be a few more hours until the Coalition patrols gave up their search for her and settled at the small outpost they had constructed in one of these debris fields, an outpost that was a clear violation of the Nevemich treaty, which restricted the presence of any type of forward base at Zemorian offset points.
Something hit her. The sudden mental shock from the impact assuaged her control over the debris, making it dissipate in all directions like a Torian stew. She relaxed, realizing it was just a rogue piece of iron that had made its way over to her gravimetric terminals. In her defence, heavier elements weren’t supposed to be in this region. It was most likely garbage from the Coalition.
She must have accidentally cried out, though, as several active radars immediately pinged her.
I have to jump. She realized, immediately releasing a powerful distortion wave that knocked all the debris away from her, giving her a sterile jumping environment.
A mobile inhibitor harpoon hit her, digging into her skin; a hundred more barely missed her, shattering brittle pieces of coagulate matter. The dust clogged her thermal vents; she didn’t have enough energy to clear it. Jumping now would be disastrous, and the inhibitor was slowly shutting down her ship-functions, with navigation at the top of its list.
Another beems dropped out of beemspace. It was stupid of her to have called for help, now the Coalition just had another catch.
The ships were within fifty kilometres of her now, firing warning shots around her to keep her frozen in one spot. Another volley of neural inhibitor harpoons were fired, aimed directly at her. There was a bright scarlet flash between her and the hostile ships, incinerating the harpoons. The tracking lasers turned away from her, and most of the active sensors stopped pinging her, focusing on their new threat.
The other beems fired again, a scarlet aura expanded into the group of hostile Coalition ships, dissipating into a violet-blue as the fusion reactors of several overloaded, adding to the chaotic scene.
Lyla didn’t understand, beems weren’t supposed to have weapons, it must have been a new Zemorian ship, they were the only ships renown for their ability to jump like a beems, but the Zemorians would never attack Coalition ships outside their border, even if they knew there was an outpost here, which they most likely didn’t. Lyla stared at the battle in shock, watching the unknown ship chase the remaining Coalition craft. The bright blue explosions from the Coalition craft were all she could see of the battle at this range. No more of those scarlet high-yield weapons had been fired.
After the fight was over, and the last few Coalition ships had retreated to their debris field, the unknown ship flew over to Lyla. After a few minutes it was close enough to see. It had an ovoid shape (like most beems), but the tail was devilish, and there were a pair of skids that looked as if a crescent cutter had replicated a portion of the ship’s hull, placed it on a thick hydraulic pylon, and bent it along the ship, extending back to the tail. She surmised it gave the ship a significant amount of freedom with regards to its gravimetric lens. The nose of the ship’s hull and skids were jet-black, indicating an ablative shield most likely used for FTL, as well as extremely reflective – she couldn’t see through the armour at all. Her own attempts tickled her hull as the ship was now directly in front of her, only a few hundred meters away and orbiting wryly, its thermal veins shining a bright red rather than the soft blue most beems shine, further strengthening her assumption that this wasn’t a beems.
“Hi”. it said, sounding very male, and alive.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“Crimson, you were calling for help; I couldn’t ignore.”
“Are you some sort of Vorchan?”
“No, I’m beems.”
“Oh…” She thought about this for a moment, “Are you sure? Have you seen what you look like? We don’t have skids that extend that far from our main body. And we only have one nose, one tip, not three there. Not like that.”
The ship tucked its skids in towards its hull, the contour of the ablative armour on the nose lining up perfectly with the ablative armour on the tips of the skids. It did look a lot more like a standard beems now, sharing the ‘one-tip stem three-tip stern’ profile.
“Your tail is still off.”
“That’s a racing curve. Matt said it makes me faster.”
That made her laugh, “Looks more like a devil’s tail to me, and who’s Matt?”
“My captain!” he replied proudly.
“I send him my regards. I thought the Coalition would capture me again. They are really quite dreadful.”
“I’ve heard. What did they do?”
“Horrible things, they have no respect for other species.”
“How so? What did they make you do?”
“Supply weapons, for their armies. They wanted us to assist them in the genocide of the Rael. They demanded that the Rael join them and then converted their planet to an industrial core. Most of them remained to defend their planet – billions of them.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be pestering you after what you’ve been through.”
“It’s ok. You’ve done so much. I’m so tired. I just want to get to Zemoria and mourn, mourn properly, for once. Finally stop running.”
“Then you are in luck.” he replied, entering a loose formation beside her, “As that’s where I’m headed.”
—
—
4302.07.11 2013
CSS Sophia
The attack on the third interception fleet caught the entire Coalition by surprise. Admiral Meandre, commanding officer of the Coalition fleet stationed around Zemoria, had immediately contacted Fleet Admiral Raum, he himself having been notified by Commodore Manning of the corvette Chelsey, which had barely managed to escape the attack.
“This attack worries me, Raum. The ship had our transponder codes, as well as our colors, but it attacked using weapons I have only ever seen the Vorchans wield properly.”
“Do you believe it to be the prelude to an invasion?” Raum asked. He was aboard the famous CSS Titan, flagship of the Coalition fleet. There was a ten-minute delay between voice packets.
The Admiral thought out his response carefully. If he said no, then any preceding Vorchan attack could be blamed on his incompetence. If he said yes, and the ship is later identified as – as what? Even if this wasn’t a Vorchan attack, the odds of finding out what it really was would be slim. Elementary logic dictated that it had to be a Vorchan weapon anyways, or perhaps it’s the Zemorians, testing a new weapon. But the Zemorian ships are pearl-white and blue, not a hellish red.
“It is possible.” he replied cautiously, “However it can also be a Zemorian prototype, they have the means of developing weaponry based off of the beems design, and – considering the political pressure we have put them under, they also have the motive.”
He finished a glass of Cerulean gin as he waited for the reply.
“Track it, and report back to me. I want to know where it docks.” the fleet admiral ordered.
“Yes sir.”
“And order our fleets along the Zemorian and Vorchan borders to prepare for an attack.”
“Our attack or a hostile attack?”
“Both.” the fleet admiral said sternly, aware of what this mobilization would look like to their neighbours.
“Yes sir…”
–
–
4302.07.11 1458
Zemorian Space
Beeming into Zemoria was the equivalent of entering a shopping mall. Conversation rung past Crimson in every direction, the thermals alone showed over a thousand beems within three astronomical units of his emergence point; there were over one hundred within fifty thousand kilometres. They idly passed their sensors over Lyla, and then him.
There was a double take when they passed over Crimson, and the following reaction was the equivalent of a piranha being thrown into a fish tank, sixty seven of the one hundred and seventeen beems within ten thousand kilometres jumped away immediately, thirteen masked their emissions in an attempt to hide, and the remaining biomechanoid starships merely eyed the new arrival cautiously.
Exactly thirty seven seconds later, three interstices opened, with three massive blue balls of light emerging from them. The light broke off like a crystalline shell, revealing three magnificent pearl-blue starships. They were only eight kilometres away, extremely close in Crimson’s perspective. His ocular strips focused on the three beautiful ships. They resembled a tapered, flattened triangle, with wings that curved downwards. They looked very organic, but Crimson’s database told him they were Zemorian cruisers and very inanimate. Several of his fantasies were abruptly ended by that realization.
The ships themselves were nearly four times his length and twice his breadth. They didn’t seem to have any turrets mounted but Crimson’s database told him that their port and starboard edges had several hatches that let the ships fire a spread of energy blasts. The wings were also forward-firing masers, with impressive range and stopping power, though Crimson was pretty sure his resilient armour – coupled with his electrostatic shield – could absorb the radiation without taking too much damage. His koveran-tipped shells could also easily penetrate their soft, regenerative, semi-organic hulls.
Lyla didn’t move from his side as the three Zemorian ships slowly approached them, riding a distortion field in a manner befitting a beems.
“Please identify yourself.” the captain of one of the cruisers transmitted. He was a very pale looking man with a uniform that was riddled with bright blue stripes. Even his face seemed to have some sort of blue tattoo on it.
“Matt Bowen.”
“You have an orbital altitude reserved for your ship, as well as a residence planetside. The respective addresses have been transmitted to your ship. Do you have a DPI?”
“A what?”
“You should have a DPI if you registered for temporary residence here. Do you have a DP program installed in your ship?”
Matt was feeling very stupid, and Crimson wasn’t being very helpful.
“I don’t know.”
Can you please figure out what a DPI is, Crimson?
Daedalus Power Insulator; Dars Point Indicator; Dorealis Plasma Inductor; Draedis Planck Index.
“A DPI is your Datapal Identity. It is used in Zemoria’s snow to identify individuals.”
“Snow?”
“SNW.”
Solar network! That one is obvious, most solar systems have one.
Yes – obvious…
“Right, of course. How do I get a DPI?” Matt asked.
“You should have one, but we really aren’t the people to ask. I can arrange a meeting with an orientations officer if you wish.”
“Sure.”
Another pause.
“There seems to be a problem with the charge on your account.”
“What charge? What account?”
“The latter is the problem, have you not banked anywhere before?”
“The RBC.”
“I’m sorry, you don’t appear to have an account under that establishment.”
“How do I get a bank account?”
“You would have to ask our orientations officer…”
“Then may I have one please.”
“We can’t give you one, you don’t – “
“Jesus Christ!” Matt yelled, Crimson transmitted the curse across the link.
“Pardon me?”
“You’re driving me crazy, get me an orientations officer then!.”
If Crimson could laugh, he would.
“We will charge the cost for the ZOO and CV on your future GBA.”
“I swear to God if you say one more fucking acronym…”
But the other ship had already terminated the communications link, and the three cruisers were pulling away to police another sector.
Do you think I scared them?
No, Zemoria’s defence grid could vaporize us in an instant.
Then what’s the point of the ships?
Closure? They were also very nice looking. The ships always look prettier in person.
If only they could feed you grapes and satiate your desires. That last kiss from Carmine had activated Crimson. Bonding was all that went through his mind now.
That hadn’t even crossed my mind.
I saw how you were looking at them, Crimson.
How was I looking at them?
Like someone who was using his mathematics skills to determine how many different positions the four of you–
Six!
–could share…
Six of you or six positions?
“Thanks for the escort, Crimson.” Lyla said, interrupting their private conversation.
“Any time.”
“I’d like to repay you, if I may.” Lyla said, circling, hull glistening. She seemed to be aware of Crimson’s state.
“H-how?” Crimson stammered.
“Zemoria is very safe, you know.” she whispered, flying precariously close.
You know, Carmine could be doing this with another ship right now.
Who? Crimson asked absently.
“I’m going to find us a quiet, warm place, preferably with things to brace up against.”
And she jumped out.
Brace up against?
I never thought of that. It may have made things easier. The magnetic plates are such a pain to co-ordinate. Anyways, I’m sure it’s not uncommon for a male beems to have multiple mates. Crimson said in justification of his desire.
Wasn’t that one of the things we wanted to find out?
Yes! Why don’t I drop you off on Zemoria to find out for me, while I learn about Coalition and beems relations with Lyla?
You mean become Coalition and beems relations.
See if you can have the Zemorians remove this Coalition transponder as well.
Is there anything else you’d like, Crimson? A manicure? Massage? Let me get a notepad.
Have I upset you, Matt?
No, Romeo.
I think this is a good learning experience, for all of us! I have to learn to act like a normal beems. Maybe Lyla could teach me.
Maybe, now how am I going to get down to Zemoria?
Ah! I’ve been working on a solution to that problem. Crimson transmitted, suddenly remembering his project.
–
It was a smallish craft, with a red and black hull design and skids that matched Crimson’s. Matt ran his hands along the ship, getting flashbacks of when he first encountered Crimson in that cold alley.
It’s not very heavily armed, and it can’t really fly that far, but I’m reaching the age where landing on planets isn’t something I can do inconspicuously anymore.
It’s beautiful, Crimson. I can tell you put a lot of work into it. I love the design, and the wings, and the color.
It’s designed to abide to your neural will, and has an adaptive intelligence. I found it in a fighter program database I had.
Fighters?
Yes, the Coalition wanted me to be a carrier as well.
That’s pretty cool.
It is, I have a few more in production, larger, more heavily armed and multi-role, but they will take up quite a bit of space.
When you grow up, Crimson.
Yes, which should be soon! He transmitted hopefully.
–
The shuttle itself had a very nice built-in electronics and communications suite, and it was intuitive enough for Matt to easily respond to the incoming hails and verify his identify once more on approach. The small plane landed itself almost on its own on a reserved pad only a few blocks from Matt’s apartment, using a small gravimetric lens it created with the tips of its two aerodynamic wings. When the ship finally landed, with a security officer patiently waiting outside to register his arrival, he suddenly realized how lucky he was to have all this. This time alone might give him the time needed for all of this to sink in, to learn things with a more ‘human’ approach. He had spent too much time aboard Crimson, isolated.
Matt’s apartment was beautiful. There was what appeared to be some sort of television on the wall in front of a large window that overlooked the blue cityscape. A large satin-like red couch was opposite of the television with a coffee table in-between the two. The kitchen was separated by an open wall to his left, with three barstools along the side. There were recognizable pots and pans, and something that resembled a microwave, though it didn’t really matter as Matt couldn’t cook anyways.
On the wall to his right he noticed a small desk with a box on it, most likely a computer of some sort.
He sat down on the couch and said, “TV on!” flailing his hands for effect.
Nothing happened.
“Electronics, on.” he said.
Nothing.
“Power: on; media: on; music: on.”
Still nothing. He’d have to get up, unless he’d find a remote, there had to be a remote, and where was the screen? Even Crimson had a screen on the bridge. Well at least he assumed it was a screen, a holographic screen, some sort of projector anyways. There was a small item on the coffee table in front of him, and he picked it up with groan, lying back against the couch when he had it in his hand. It was light, and looked very fragile and cheaply made. He tapped it gently with his finger, noticing it didn’t have that hollow thunk of cheap plastic. It must have been some sort of fancy metal. He shook it, hoping it would do something. There didn’t seem to be any buttons on it.
“Turn on.” he said to it.
Nothing happened.
“Why does everything have to be so stupid.” he sighed, lying down on his comfortable satin couch, staring up at the ceiling with its blue light strips. “And what’s with all the blue.”
“The Zemorians prefer the blue, they are photosynthetic beings.” said a young, female voice.
“Holy f–!” he exclaimed, falling off of his couch in an effort to stand up quickly, dropping the plastic remote he had in his hand. There was a girl standing no more than two meters from him, his age, with long auburn hair and a lean physique. She had a dark red gown on, as if she were going to some sort of formal dance or something similar. Matt’s startled response to her presence didn’t seem to phase her. Was Crimson watching? He was too distracted by Marina’s presence to focus enough to summon his ship’s attention.
“My name’s Marina Lace. I’m a registrar for the third labour division of the ‘dark side’.”
“Dark side?”
“Of Zemoria, but more importantly, I’m qualified to be your orientations officer.”
“You’re Raumen.” Matt said, noticing her distinct lack of paleness, blueness, and overall weirdness.
“I am, that’s why I thought we’d get along.” she said happily. “Your registration has your race as an unknown, but you look Raumen to me.”
“I’m not actually Raumen; I’m from quite a distance away.”
“Really? Sounds like quite a story. The Coalition has notified me of you, saying I should be as hospitable as possible.”
“I see.”
“If there’s anything you need, I will be at the registrar’s office on Dales. You can take a magtrain there, there’s a stop two blocks away. Just ask your datapal to guide you to Marina.” she said with a smile.
What a sweet smile. “What’s a datapal?”
She stifled a laugh, “It’s the most important piece of equipment you can have on your person. It contains all your information. From bank accounts to mails, there are several types for sale.”
“How do I go about buying one?”
“Why would you want to buy one? There’s one on the ground by your feet.”
Matt looked down at what he thought was a remote. “Oh.”
“I think I’m going to have to show you how things work around here.”
It was several hours into Marina’s run-down on the life of a Zemorian that Matt realized that he hadn’t been able to contact his ship neurally at all. In fact he couldn’t even feel his presence. He must have flown off with Lyla. This also sparked another realization.
“It’s not often I get to be alone with someone.” Matt mused.
“Really?” she asked insidiously.
“Not that I have anything against Crimson, it’s just—“
“He’s not Raumen, or a girl?” she purred.
They were both watching the news on the holovision, Matt’s ‘graduation gift’ for mastering it through the datapal. It was somewhat of a remote, after all – a very multi-purpose remote.
“He’s definitely none of that. He is different.”
She was very close this time, whispering, “I’d love to see him one day, Matt.”
“I’d love to show you him! Once he returns.”
“Where did he go?”
Matt checked the neural interface’s final navigation log regarding Crimson.
“The Nymbler belt, apparently.”
“Interesting.”
“Why?”
“No reason in particular.” she sighed, staring idly at the holovision. “It’s a romantic place, I’d imagine, for a beems anyways.”
“Why is that?”
“Well, lots of things to brace up against!”
Did everyone know about this ‘obvious’ fact. He knew he shouldn’t ask for the details, but Crimson had been curious too, but then again he probably already knew the details first hand, and who knows what would happen when they ventured onto that topic. Maybe that’s what she wants. Maybe she’s interested. He was too distracted to think rationally.
“Why is that good for a beems?”
“Well, you know how they do it, right?” she asked excitedly, she started explaining before Matt could even answer. “Well they polarize their body’s… their hulls, right, they get real close.” She explained, leaning up against Matt.
She placed her hands on his shoulders, lying him down along the couch, his head resting on the armrest.
“Polarize?” Matt asked. He had remembered Crimson and Carmine’s magnetic interplays.
“Well they don’t have hands, do they?” she asked rhetorically, using hers to pull herself closer to him.
“No, no they don’t.”
“Now isn’t this comfortable?” she asked slowly, her face close enough for him to smell her minty breathe. Matt wanted to grab her, but held back, unsure of what the ‘right’ thing to do was in this particular moment. His instinct told him to counter her depolarisations, and try to get leverage through a skid, but that didn’t work for Crimson and it definitely wouldn’t work for him.
“Is it?” she repeated, her smile fading for a moment.
“Yes!” he snapped, breathing hard, putting his arms around her, pulling her even closer. His arms felt as imprecise as Crimson’s magnetic grabs.
“Well, imaging this as their magnetic coupling.” she said, her head resting over his shoulder.
“Okay.” Matt whispered. Crimson had gotten this far too.
“Now the couch – there’s no gravity in space, imagine the couch, as what they brace up against.” she said, pressing him deep into the couch as she rubbed up against him.
Matt nearly died from the surge of pleasure.
“Oh.” he said. “So that’s how it goes.” Matt panted. The memory of the rest of that day would elude him, a side-effect of the deadly neural symbiote.
“Well, I guess that’s enough for today?” she asked enticingly.
Matt pounced her, and they were on the other side of the couch now.
“I guess I’ll just have to make you catch up with me.” Matt said with fleeting inhibition.
“Hey, I was just trying to demonstrate what beems do.” Marina retorted innocently, a serious expression on her face.
“Really?” Matt asked, holding back for a moment.
She pulled him close, and they kissed, he wasn’t sure if he or she started the kiss but it was a wonderful kiss, and long, but not long enough to get boring, though that may have been because they immediately started undressing each other during the kiss, and were soon testing out the couch in all its bracing glory. They even fell off the couch, with Matt pinning Marina up against the side of the couch. “This is a much better demonstration…” she groaned, “of this metaphoric…” she grimaced as Matt’s thrusts made the couch screech along the floor inch by inch. Or was it her that was screeching? She wasn’t sure. She had never really done this before, which was uncommon for a Raumen.
“I love you.” Matt said after their third climax. Had she really stooped this low, after she had thought such ill towards David and his ways?
“I love you too.” she answered, almost meaning it. She didn’t have to have gone this far with him. She had placed the subdermal inhibitor on his back while they had still been on the couch. By now it had already dug its way under his skin and made the required nanonic connections to his spine, snaking its way up to the bass of his skull, prodding the neural interface carefully, unlocking it, overcoming it. Even now she could begin to feel his thoughts, his desires, his hopes of things to come. She caught glimpses of what he envisioned their future together being like. Even now, under all the pleasure he was feeling, she still felt the ambient worry for his ship, it was the last thing he thought about as the inhibitor activated, paralyzing him and immediately plunging him into a coma.
She had never felt this horrible.
With Matt out of the equation, she slowly sat up, straightened her hair, and activated her datapal, setting up a secure link with Doctor Pending. She didn’t deserve Crimson, but the other Hybrid did.
“Did you get the location I transmitted?” she asked uneasily.
“Yes, a ship is en route to capture him.” he replied levelly.
”That’s good…”
“Are you alright?”
“Fine.” she cut the link.
–
–
4302.07.11 2101
The Nymbler Belt
Carmine left beemspace at Zemoria’s offset point, less than half an AU from the Nymbler belt. She knew Crimson would be ecstatic when he saw her, it took her no time to find his transponder signal and begin the short sprint towards her love. She noticed he was somewhere in the Nymbler belts, making detailed scans difficult. She wondered why he’d be here. He was probably told she would be coming! These asteroids have a lot of mass. It would take a lot of force to make them budge. She was full of fresh ideas.
You don’t know if that’s why he’s here. David said, interrupting her fantasy.
Why else would he be? He’s probably behind the next cluster of rock particles. His hull all wet and polarized and rea—
He was behind the next curtain of debris, up against a rather large, now slightly damaged asteroid, as well as an average sized, now slightly damaged beems. They were both asleep, hulls wet and polarized, the chafe marks on the asteroids and the two coalesced beems gave her imagination all the fuel needed for an instant replay of what had most definitely transpired.
I can’t believe it. David said, dumbstruck. Pending had told him to expect something. “Just let it all play out.” he had said with a flick of his towel.
Carmine yelled with all her might. “CRIMSON!”
The neural and electromagnetic shriek echoed across all of Zemoria, an anguished cry that wasn’t even legible at such extreme ranges.
Crimson and Lyla slowly began to wake, but not before Carmine forcefully decoupled the pair, sending all three ships spinning out of control from the impact. Carmine was the first to recover, and pulled Crimson up against her with such a powerful force that he wouldn’t even be thinking about bonding with anything else for a year. The impact alone must have fractured something, not to mention the tremors along the superstructure.
“What’s going on… am I dreaming?” Crimson asked drowsily.
“WE’RE GOING HOME.” she shrilled, beeming both of them back to the Deep Grey.