Thumar

A deep space science vessel on the outer edge of the Pegasus Sector.

Vander was at his observation post when the alarm went off. He sat straight up, his expression one of utter shock and disbelief. He felt like he was punched in the stomach before having his head kicked in.

“No! He couldn’t have. Damn him! Mik! Mikal, get your lazy ass over here. We have a big problem!”

Mikal roused himself and stumbled to the console. “What is it this time? We’re just about home, and the prime council is pleased with our results.”

“You’re not going to believe this,” said Vander. “Thumar set off a matter anti-matter detonation. The resulting shockwave deflected 87.5 percent of the storm’s pulse away from their inner solar system. Thumar was spared. They figured out in seven days how to undo what took us one hundred years to perfect.”

Mik’s face transformed into a visage of hatred and fear. He detested anyone or anything that disrupted his handy work. But, mostly, he feared the prime council and their leader. Failure was not an option. Anything less than a perfect mission was considered a mistake.

“Shit. We’re screwed now,” he snarled. “Your god-damn creature figured it out, didn’t he? That son-of-a-bitch just set us back at least one hundred years. The prime council is going to have our heads on a platter. Well, he’s your lab rat. You’re going answer for this one, Vander.”

“You shit, Mik. You’re always thinking of yourself. You’re the commander on this mission. I just followed orders.”

“You bitch,” screeched Mikal. “If you hang me out to dry, I‘ll kill you. I swear, I will!”

“That’s what you were going to do with me,” said Vander, baiting him. “I may not have your brawn, but I’ve been around the block more times than you can count.”

“Don’t flaunt your ‘I’m smarter than you’ shit around me.” Mikal was apoplectic.

Vander knew he had the advantage. He reached under the console and grabbed the phase pistol. “I don’t need to, you Neanderthal. It’s all too apparent. Without my brains, you would have died of old age over one hundred years ago.”

“No one calls me that and gets away with it. I’m going to pound you into submission.” Mik ran to tackle Vander and stopped short, with the business end of the phase pistol in his face. “You don’t have the balls to pull that trigger,” he yelped. “Give it to me, you imp!”

The whine of the phase pistol’s charge pack caused him to back away. Vander released the trigger lock, and Mikal’s whole attitude changed. His hands went up, and his face went from an angry red to white.

“Now — now, let’s calm down and figure this out, shall we?” Mikal was actually shaking. “Put the pistol down, Vander. We can be adults about this.”

The pistol settings went from stun to kill.

“I’m sorry about what I said, Vander.” Mikal was now sweating. “I meant, let’s work this out like shipmates, yeah, shipmates.”

Vander used the muzzle to indicate for Mikal to sit, he did. “Shut up and let me think… The Orion Syndicate only keeps track of the pure bloods, the direct “descendants” of the first generation of genetically enhanced supermen. If Master Li hadn’t gotten to him first, he’d be on our side. We don’t bother with the second generation, half-breeds, at best. Admiral Morton, for instance, he’s a second generation.

“Now that Thumar has survived, it will be tougher to target the Alliance’s home system. All we have to do, is forget that Derak Jamar ever existed. It was an act of God.”

“Sometimes you surprise me, Vander. That’s not a bad idea.”

The phase pistol rose again.

“I meant, that is a brilliant idea,” said Mikal, hastily. “Clear the records of his information, like you did in the Pelar incident. But, perform a complete job. They nearly found out last time.”

“They nearly found out because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut,” said Vander. “At least we cleared the Terelian and Kek systems. There are survivors, but not enough to give us any more trouble.”

Vander turned the pistol off and put it back, never turning his back on Mikal. “I’ll clear the records. You might as well go back to your nap.”

“That and a bottle of Wild Turkey might help me sleep,” Mikal grumbled, heading back to his bunk. No one bitches me like that. He’d better watch his back.