Robot, Saxophone, Kazoo

Hey everyone! Here is the second entry into the Just Three Words line! Renee Hart Klein was the winner this time! There were a lot of good suggestions so I actually had to number them out and roll a 20-sided die for it... Anyway, enjoy the story about Robot, Saxophone, and Kazoo written in the form a picture book. Also, if anyone wants to illustrate this, be my guest!

Robot, Saxophone, Kazoo

From the town of Deco filled with rust, steam, and gauges, came many tales that could fill many pages. But the one we are about to tell fills only few.

This is the story of Renee and her trusty Kazoo.

The school bells had rung and work been let out, kids ran from their classrooms while giving a shout. Renee, as their teacher, found her heart filled with joy, by the loud yells of freedom from each girl and each boy.

Though excited for them to go run and to play, she couldn’t help but find herself say, “Don’t forget your homework while you’re out playing games! Neglect it and you’ll find zeroes by your names!”

“We won’t Ms. K!” declared young Stan Hicks, “We won’t neglect our weekly robotics!” You see, she was the kids favorite because after all, with her they built robots, both big and so small.

The ‘bots that they made performed so many tricks. They painted and battled and built things with bricks. They ran really fast and climbed kind of slow, there wasn’t a thing they couldn’t be programmed to know.

Following her students to the weekend now here, she did one last check on their contraptions so dear. As she made her way out it appeared they all still were there. But, wait just a second! One spot lay bare!

Who now was gone and out of their place? Was it Cookbot or Ast-droid, who was to be sent into space? Looking around she saw they were there, but who moved away, leaving their spot bare?

Perhaps it was the RoboJacks who could cut down a tree. But just a way down she spotted all three. Renee’s anger arose as she looked vainly around, “Who has moved itself from their place on the ground?”

“Behold creator! It surely was me!” chirped out a voice from a place she didn’t see. “You left me undone, left with work to do. You see, Master Renee, I’m out for you.” Out from the shadows stepped a robot alone, it was the shiny brass plated Mr. Saxophone.

Renee had made him early on when about robotics she felt kind of dumb, and she also remembered partaking in some rum. She admits the work was kind of sloppy, but still he was a marvel, not some worthless jalopy.

He was made for his namesake and knew how to jam, yet his saxophone sounded like sandpaper against clam. She was missing some parts by the time she was done, and honestly had no clue where they had gone.

Though her first piece of work, once begotten, the forlorn piece of tech had since been forgotten. “I did on my own what you failed to do and all it took was an extra servo or two. So now I’ve come to seek vengeance and deliver some pain via the greatest hits of the legend Coltrane.”

The robot pulled out a sax and started to bellow, boy did Renee pick a day to forget her cello. She refused to lose in this battle to her original dude, even if he played a smooth In a Sentimental Mood.

Cornered, Renee knew what she must do. She gathered her courage and pulled out her kazoo. She came out strong with a tune of her own, her humming so strong it knocked the ‘bot prone. This battle of songs had become more than that, now they were locked in mortal combat.

Mr. Sax came back with a violent procession hoping to teach this traitor a lesson. Renee flew backward into her desk, the carnage seen was most grotesque. Though hurting bad she jumped to her feet, now she was angry, he was in for a treat.

The teacher played music that had never been heard, best way to describe it is a harmonica crossed with a bird. Could this really come from such a small and plastic tool? But of course when it wasn’t in the hands of a fool.

Of course to Mr. Sax’s sensors it sounded so fine, but it wouldn’t be so to yours or to mine. A sharp concussive blast shot forth from the toy, what kind of magic did this teacher employ? The wave hit the robot hard sending him scattering across the room. The threat had been defeated by this incredible sonic boom.

Looking down at the mech as its eyes flickered out, Renee gave out a resounding victory shout. “You thought you could beat me with your new toys and upgrades, but you should have asked the other failed projects about these useless raids. Your biggest crime was thinking the first was you, your second was letting me use my kazoo!”

“Along with robotics I dabble in futuristic self-defense and while making this I spared no expense. To make it simple for your outdated chips, this is a military-grade plasma weapon operated by lips.”

You see, Renee’s lucky kazoo wasn’t lucky at all, it wasn’t coincidence that caused her rival to fall. When in your life robotic uprising is a normal thing, you must keep an ace card under each wing. With the proper precautions and using your mind, there is no answer you can not find.

So in the town of Deco filled with rust, steam, and gauges, there sure was a teacher for all of the ages. Renee taught robotics to her kids every session, but her extracurricular was Robo-Uprising Suppression.

The Far Reaches: Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The corridors of the Jade Serpent held a stagnant silence as Admiral Lorna Holden strode punctually through them. The admiral’s prowess commanded respect that often yielded her the right to speak before any of her crew, which tended to leave most of her treks through the halls of the vessel without conversation. She was used to silence, yet this wasn’t the flavor of stillness she was used to. She knew the unsettling feeling currently aboard the ship had not been born from her rank or reputation, but rather because the news of tragedy travels fast. It was hard to tell how many crew members were patched into the active communication frequency when the young man was killed during the inspection, but the Admiral was sure everyone was well aware of the incident by now. When she heard the news she had been sitting at her desk in her quarters for roughly fifteen minutes. That was just enough time for an exhausted officer to begin to nod off.

This had become a normal occurrence as of late. Admiral Holden would man her post on the bridge for nearly one whole Earth Standard day waiting for something, or rather anything, to happen. The crew of the Jade Serpent worried for her well being, as she had never exhibited these behaviors before. Even during the intense naval campaign against the CTR she managed to maintain an average schedule. Despite growing concern, all but one member of the crew couldn’t bring themselves past their reverence for her to suggest she get more rest. The single crew member capable of this was Captain Raymus and it took him over a month to muster the courage. The following day she retired to her quarters for an hour before returning to the deck. The small segments of time spent in her personal room went undisturbed, until today. Just as her eyelids couldn’t stand to be open any longer, Lorna was contacted from the bridge. The sharp, repeating beeps from her communicator caused her muscles to tighten as she sprung into a state of sudden alertness.

She quickly moved from her room through the long labyrinth of hallways. Lorna knew a red impression of her right fist sat brightly upon her cheek, but she had no time for the formality of letting signs of her rest clear. The urgency in Lieutenant Bugsby’s voice as he called her back up to the bridge was unnatural, even for the small anthro. The demeanor of the creature gave even more wind behind her sails as she quickly approached the bridge. Honestly unsure of what to expect when she set foot on the command deck, the Admiral stopped at the door and took one last deep, exasperated breath before entering what she considered her home. “Attention! Admiral on deck!” Announced the Lieutenant, making known Lorna’s presence to all. Everyone snapped up and saluted as she made her way to the canine-like anthro.

“Report, Lieutenant,” commanded Admiral Holden as she came to a halt.

“The crew aboard the ship were hostiles. Spectre Group was able to kill two of the men on board, but one escaped. After running checks on the crew we were able to determine they were a CTR Engineering team.”

“Any casualties on our end?”

“Private Miller, Ma’am. He’s unresponsive. Raymus requested a line with you.”

“Patch him through.” It was situations like this that really made Holden curse the history of humanity. Just fifteen years ago they would have sent a scanning team made of of A.I. driven machines, sparing Private Miller his life. Fifteen years prior, however, a small band of rebels on the Titan colony thought it would be a good idea to militarize over ten thousand robotic units all programmed with artificial intelligence. The artificial intelligence, however, thought it would be a good idea to eliminate the rebels who brought them into being as well as attempt to gain control of the whole colony. After Earth stepped in with its main military corporation, Arrowhead Industries, it was ruled a war crime to implement intelligent robotics in warfare. The civil war had been the first major conflict since the law was enacted and it had been a rude awakening for the citizens of the Far Reaches to be reminded what the true sacrifices of war were. Regardless, the decade long conflict had left both the Union of Sovereign Nations and the Confederate Territories of the Reaches with many fallen fathers and even more dead sons.

During Admiral Holden’s contemplation of the situation at hand, a hologram of Captain Raymus appeared in the middle of the command bridge. It stood at about the same height of Lieutenant Bugsby and let off an ominous, blue glow. Despite these characteristics, it was clear to see that it was the mighty Captain Raymus being projected before the command crew. Though he looked just as powerful as ever, there was a touch of anguish about him. “Admiral, after further investigation of the Confederate engineers we have discovered they were trying to sneak by our blockade to search for something. We haven’t been able to uncover what they were trying to retrieve or where it may be at this time. It has come to my attention, though, that if the CTR thought it was worth sending a crew that’s well above the paygrade of an average soldier it must be worth something.”

“What makes you think it wouldn’t just be a waste of time, Captain?” interjected the Admiral.

“There’s one last bit of information that keeps things fresh, ma’am. Before he died, one of the engineers commended his companion who escaped. He said that his efforts would bring our demise. Whatever it is they are after, High Command may be interested in it too.”

“Perhaps these are just the ramblings of a delusional zealot. Why risk everything by attacking Private Miller if their end goal was so important?”

Raymus released a dull snort, “The hunger for revenge is not easily satisfied. He thought he could control that desire, but when he finally encountered us face to face, the hunger pains had become too strong. In short, he snapped and compromised their mission. We were able to locate his file through some encrypted data we picked up earlier. His brother served in the Confederate Navy. We sank his ship during the CTR’s last effort to break our blockade.”

“I see.”

“It’s your call, Admiral, but my instinct says we need to chase this one.”

Lorna tilted her head and sat in silence as she took a moment to weigh her options. “Command won’t like this…”

“Very well, ma’am…”

“However,  I will not watch another young soldier’s death pass in vain while we sit idly around a mining platform. I’ll have a word with them. Raymus, take Spectre Group planetside and find where that pod landed. I’ll have Lieutenant Bugsby search the databases we’ve collected from the enemies ships so far for information about what they may have been after. Stay in touch with him while I’m away.”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you, Admiral.”

Admiral Holden lowered her gaze as the communication ended and the cobalt image of the anthropomorphic rhino dispersed into nothing.

To the average passerby, if there were to be such thing amidst the desert of FR-1 in the middle of the night, the scene that was unfolding would seem quite uncanny. After all, there were very few times in galactic history where a gorilla had been confronted by a human who appeared to be around the age of ten. “Look, I’ve had an awful day already. I wasn’t even able to enjoy my drinks in peace. The last thing I need is to be harassed by a child with hormone problems claiming to be a bounty hunter,” said McGraw with an obvious overtone of annoyance. “Now I’m going to give you one last chance to change your mind and get on outta here.”

“You’re going to give me a chance?’ questioned Jett with a chuckle. The self-proclaimed bounty hunter then raised his left hand, in it he held an item that was very dear to McGraw. It was the ape’s handgun that he had accidentally cast aside moments before. “It doesn’t look like you’re in the position to give anything. Except up. You can always give up.” With a quick twirl of the sidearm, Jett tucked it into the back of his belt.

“You know I just took down a group of actual bounty hunters, right?” boasted the ape.

“Actual bounty hunters? I take offense to that. Just because my application to the guild has been denied seven times doesn’t mean I’m not an actual hunter!”

McGraw edged closer to the human. “I’m afraid I…” Before he could even think of finishing his thought, McGraw felt his legs being swept out from beneath him. His muscular back met the ground with resounding force before he could even comprehend what happened. The wind left his lungs instantly; he couldn’t express his disbelief that he had just been upheaved by the small human even if he desired to. Embarrassed, he shot up from his back and prepared to lunge at the small, yet seasoned mercenary. “You little…” The ape was again cut short, but this time by the sight of a high powered rifle leveled directly at his stubby nose.

“Get up. Keep moving. I know your ship’s just up ahead,” said Jett. McGraw scrambled to his feet, not eager to lose everything between his ears. They quickly made their way around the grandest spire in the area, behind which sat McGraw’s ship. It wasn’t how the anthro had left it, however. It looked like the power had been engaged and it was prepped for takeoff. “We’re gonna take it to turn you in. I warmed her up for us.”

“My ship? What the hell’s wrong with yours?!”

“Eh, mine’s in the shop. Crashed her into a market. Poor girl, I really should treat her better. The Crosby brothers told me I could hitch a ride out here anyway just as long as I told them where you were.”

“You’re the one that tipped them off?” The odd couple approached the boarding ramp of the ship. The silvery-blue sheen of the dart shaped vessel softly reflected the moonlight back toward the two. The ape marched solemnly in front of the human who elected to continually prod his victim in the spine to remind him who was in charge.

“Well yeah, I needed a ride. Besides, they kinda suck at bounty hunting so I knew regardless of if I had to fight them or you I could make the claim.”

“You’re insane. Everything about you is insane.”

“Well, they don’t pay me to be psychologically healthy. Thank the Lord for that. Is it my voice that makes you think that? Kinda deep for someone who looks like a kid, huh? Oddly enough I’m actually twenty-nine...”

Feeling it was his turn to interrupt and definitely not one to go down without a fight, McGraw turned and quickly grasped the lengthy barrel of the hunter’s rifle. With a symphony of strained whirs that originated from deep within his prosthetic arm, he altered the angle of the weapon by ninety degrees. “What’s with you bounty hunters anyway? You’re always talking when you should be shooting,” jested the ape. Jett cocked his head and gave a smirk, mocking the anthro and his attempt to intimidate him. Before McGraw could release his grip, Jett let out a cry and with unnatural force tossed him toward the hydraulics of the boarding ramp by merely shifting the rifle upward and out of his hands. The gorilla hit the ramp and rolled down to the soft ground. With an enraged snort, a puff of red dust cleared from around his nostrils. “Alright you abomination, this ends now!” McGraw jumped up, charging at Jett from his position on the ground. With his momentum and a strength possessed by few in the known galaxy, the anthro launched a punch at his targets chest. Confident in his strength over the beasts, Jett refused to budge and instead elected to attempt to parry the attack.

Jett’s overconfidence has always been considered a weakness by his peers, and that judgment may not have been completely wrong. Though he was correct in assuming his genetic alterations and physical enhancements gave him strength comparable to McGraw’s, he underestimated the speed at which the blow would make contact with his body. Jett threw his palms downward in an attempt to catch the incoming fist but only lessened the severity of the blow. Upon contact, the hit sent him hurtling approximately five meters through the crisp night air before he was able to come to a stop after another meter long skid. “I may be all about fun, but I’m still just a soldier at the end of the day. I’m sorry drongo, but playtime’s over.” Upon finishing his statement, Jett pulled McGraw’s own gun from his trousers and lined the barrel up with the ape’s center of mass. Unhesitatingly, Jett pulled the trigger. However, he was met with a soul crushing sound.

Click.

Click.

“Genetic locks, my friend,” shouted the gorilla. “Besides, it’s bad luck to kill a man with his own weapon.”

“You’re right, what was I thinking?” Jett quipped sarcastically as he threw the handgun to the ground and drew his own. “You know, I’ve been in a good deal of tussles since my augmentation twenty years ago, but this one’s gold. You’re value, mate. Too bad I’m willing to settle with taking you in dead.” Just as Jett turned off his safety a low rumbling could be heard from above the two combatants in the sky. Looking upward, they witnessed what appeared to be night opening up into day directly overhead. What looked like a circle of light and fire grew as the rumbling turned into a scream. As the object descended upon them, thoughts of the fight disappeared and instinct kicked in. “Holy shit!” yelled Jett as he dove for cover behind the nearest rock. McGraw scrambled for his ship in an even more desperate manner. Unable to see the collision from his place of hiding, Jett heard a thunderous thump and the sound of warping metal. This was followed a millisecond later by a shockwave accompanied by the resonating force of the impact traveling through the ground. As the dust finally settled around him, Jett looked up from behind his rock, gun in hand. The first thing that Jett noticed was McGraw laying motionless against some rocks not too far off. The second thing he noticed was that whatever was veiled by the remaining dust had completely destroyed half of the ape’s ship, rendering it completely useless.

The sound of vacuumized air being released from within the mysterious object accompanied a gust that moved the remaining dust away from the crash site. Jett’s view was finally cleared, “An escape pod?” he questioned. More importantly now that the main hatch had been pried loose, he was able to see that inside sat a man. Cautiously, the bounty hunter crept from behind his cover toward the vessel. The human inside sat motionless, though his eyes were open. Fresh wounds marked with shrapnel lined his neck and chest while blood trailed from his lips.Now within reaching distance, Jett prodded the man with his pistol. Expecting no response from the ravaged human, Jett jumped out of his skin as a blood soaked hand latched onto his.

The Far Reaches: Chapter 2

Chapter 2

A roar like thunder pierced the air like a draconic bellow out of a fairy tale, but the barkeeper didn’t mind. It had been six hours since the large ape sat across from him at the bar, and he had been asleep for the last four of it. Though the anthro’s snore was more than off putting, it wasn’t like he was scaring patrons away. Business had been bad since the war started and had only declined further with the blockading of the mining platform. The cavernous area that made up the front end of the tavern had once crawled with life, though now it sat dormant, waiting for the winter of war to pass. The bartender was glad to see that some creatures were willing to weather the proverbial winter. Despite the oddities of his current guest, he was glad someone was there. To be clear, however, the ape was even more peculiar than most that frequented the bar. Even as he slept he let an oversized cigar burn like an ember in his mighty jaw. His barrel chested torso was cloaked with a faded poncho that now rose and fell in rhythm with each resounding snore. The hat whose brim hung over his eyes when he waltzed into the desolate tavern now sat next to the hollow whisky bottles he emptied like an elephant at a watering hole. The barman thought the apes getup was almost comical, though he would never say that to the hulking creatures face.

Species, outfit, and drinking habits aside, there was one thing about his snoozing guest that he couldn’t shake; the hand that held those whisky bottles. In place of the ape’s left forearm was a crudely constructed metal prosthetic. If there was one thing people liked to share more than a drink in a joint like this, it was conversation. Unfortunately, there had been more than one discussion among patrons about claiming a bounty on an ape with a mechanical arm. “Could my luck really be this rotten?” the tender thought to himself. “There’s no way the only living thing to pass through my God forsaken doors today is the infamous...”

“MCGRAW!” Shouted a voice from the now open doorway. The bartender dropped the glass he had been cleaning out of surprise, shattering it on the ground. The sleeping gorilla now known as McGraw, however, didn’t stir at all. The shout came from a rather stout man who was flanked by two others of less notable stature. “I’m talking to you, McGraw!” barked the man again. “Do you know what you’re worth?”

“Thirty thousand.” whispered McGraw.

“I can’t hear you, boy. Speak up.”

The barkeep shifted his glance from the three men back to Gorilla McGraw just in time to see the beast grab his hat off of the counter.

“I went through all the effort of robbing that Union train and I’m still only marked at thirty thousand. What a waste of time that was.” The fat man waddled closer to McGraw who slowly pushed his stool away from the bar while rising to meet them. “Who the hell are you, anyway?”

“Don’t be so coy, ape. We’re the world famous Crosby Brothers!”

“Must not be world famous on this planet, cause I’ve sure as shit never heard of you.” McGraw had, as a matter of fact, heard stories of the Crosby Brothers on multiple occasions. More often than not the tales concluded with the fat one eating his words while their target escaped. “Look, I came here for a drink, not to get harassed by some two bit bounty hunter and his lady friends.” McGraw reached over toward the only bottle left on the bar that had liquid remaining in it. His mechanical left arm let out a soft whir as it moved with the same lack of fluidity as his organic one on the right.

“Watch your tongue, boy. We’d rather not take you in dead, but losing the extra thousand might be worth teaching you some respect,” said the one of the skinnier Crosby Brothers as he gently caressed his plasma blaster that sat sloppily in his holster.

“Now if you don’t mind, Mr. barman, we’d like some alone time with McGraw, here,” the fat brother chimed in. Not wanting to die over someone else’s squabble, the bartender moved hastily through the storage room and out the back door. When the room had sat silently for what felt like hours but was more realistically seconds, all three Crosby Brothers raised their weapons slowly, leveling them on their prize.

“I told you boys I just came here to drink,” said McGraw before he took the final swig that his bottle had to offer before shattering it completely over fat Crosby’s head. The remaining two brothers fumbled nervously trying to unholster their weapons, but Gorilla McGraw drew his sidearm with ease and fanned two shots into each of their legs. Their kneecaps were instantly charred and gave way with a sickening snap as the force from the shots forced them to the ground. Not one for tricks, McGraw slid his pistol back into his holster with force as he let out a grunt of satisfaction. Stepping over the screaming Crosby Brothers on his way out of the bar, McGraw was sure to leave them with some simple advice. “Next time you aim to kill a sleeping man, don’t wake him first.” The bright neon signs and old faded posters that lined the walls of the pub gave way to a blanket of endless stars as McGraw passed through the portal of the doorway.

The brisk air of the desert night did little to sober McGraw. He was intentional with the copious amount of alcohol he had consumed that night. In accordance to the gorilla’s ideals, it would be a shame if his buzz were to dissipate before his head had nestled into his pillow aboard his cozy ship. He may not have had quite so much to drink, though, had he known an encounter with bounty hunters was on the agenda for the evening. It was the second of the day and he admittedly hadn’t caught wind of the their approach as he usually did, but that didn’t matter. In the mind of the mighty ape there were few he couldn’t best, despite his current debilitated state. After eleven months of maintaining the status of “high priority target” on the bounty hunters guild most wanted boards, McGraw had become quite desensitized to the almost daily visits. Arkan Arkham, Saint Starbreak, the Riot Gang; none of the so called “master class” hunters had the competence to bring him in.

McGraw reverted from the upright position he generally maintained into a more primal stride that included using his knuckles, much like a gorilla of Earth. His tribal tradition taught getting around in such a manner was disrespectful to one’s self and dishonoring to one's family. Even if he were to care about such out of date customs, which he didn’t, he walked alone among the dunes marked with rising spires of crimson rocks that penetrated the glittering night sky. At least he truly thought he did. “You’re gonna be stuck with a savage hangover tomorrow, mate,” said a deep, proud, and thickly accented voice from the shadows. McGraw, caught off guard by his apparent visitor, scrambled to draw his pistol. His adrenaline began to do what the night chill refused as his vision tightened and his senses crept back to him. He felt the smooth sandalwood of his pistol grips on his knuckles as they drifted over the polished surface of his weapon. As he clenched his fist around the handle muscle memory took over. The ape’s left arm flung outward, throwing the tattered poncho over his shoulder just as his right arm sprung forth leveling itself with his best estimation of where the voice originated. A vile grin of success crossed his maw as his index finger repeatedly squeezed inward. It was at this moment he realized something was incredibly off.

Observing there were no plasma bolts originating from where the weapon should be, Mcgraw noticed the firearm wasn’t in his hand at all. Looking a little further he noticed it wasn’t even nearby. Instead it was hurtling through the air, barrel over butt, toward the voice in the shadows. In his devastatingly intoxicated state McGraw had failed to fully draw his pistol before thrusting his arm forward to aim. In turn, the firearm had caught his holster by its sight and the force of his movement catapulted it forward and out of his grasp. “Dammit!” exclaimed McGraw. His sidearm clattered against the smoothed sandstone before coming to rest deep within the darkness. Unsure of what waited for him just ahead, McGraw desperately said the only thing he thought might save him, “I’m worth more alive!”

“I’m well aware of that,” the deep voice said with a chuckle. After the echo of the words ceased to resonate off of the nearby formations what looked to be a very small child stepped out into what little light there was. From what McGraw could gather in the ambiance of the night, the child stood about four feet tall with an exceedingly toned muscles sitting on his otherwise unimpressive frame. His skin was darker than some humans he had met in his time but certainly lighter than others. The child’s complexion was complemented by a pair of deep, burnt umber eyes that yielded a glow and a smile which was posted ear to ear and exuded a similar vibrant. The apparel of the young human confused the ape. He was wearing a sidearm packed neatly into a tactical belt, that was complemented by a bandoleer overstuffed with ammunition. A rifle sat neatly across his back and an uncomfortably large knife rested on the opposite hip of his pistol. This was as far, however, as the child’s military garb went. Beneath all the weapons and ammo he was wearing what McGraw recognized as a sports jersey, but he wasn’t sure what sport or team it was affiliated with. It was all black with a white collar and had a silver fern sitting on the breast without much more detail. What perplexed McGraw even more than that was the fact that the child was equipped only with khaki shorts to wear in the place of pants with any real combat value.

Perplexed by what refused to stop unfolding before him, McGraw let out a loud, detesting statement. “You send a child to do your work? Reveal yourself, you dishonorable bastard!” The ape looked past the child into the darkness, where he was sure his true enemy still remained.

“Uh, I’m the only one here, pal,” said the booming, proud voice, this time from right in front of him. McGraw returned his gaze to the child. “You should’ave seen your face a second ago. You looked as if you’d seen your nana attending her own funeral!” The anthro’s mouth dropped open in an uncharacteristic moment of disgust and disbelief as he realized the bellowing voice was originating from the small human. Maybe he had had too much to drink.

McGraw, still trying to process the situation, was only able to articulate five words,“What the hell are you?”

“Me? I’m Jett. I’m here to claim that bounty, so let’s stop pissing around and get on with it.”

The Far Reaches: Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The expanse of space is harsh and unforgiving. It’s just the kind of place for Admiral Lorna Holden to find comfort. There was something about the Stygian void that led her to a state of contentment she had not felt since childhood. Contentment, she had found, was difficult to come by in the Far Reaches. For the century that mankind had maintained a presence around the coyly titled gas giant and her two inhabitable moons, it seemed she was more likely to find a tale of conflict and despair in the place of stories of triumph and peace. It was for this reason she had joined the naval branch of the Union of Sovereign Nations ten years prior. Though she was young when she signed, Holden was anything but naive. When the proposed Union of Sovereign Nations was finally established only to be immediately countered by the movement known as The Confederate Territories of the Reaches she knew what had to be done. How could progress occur and stability be reached while the CTR chose to wallow in their century old filth instead of push forward for the betterment of the people? She knew it was time for change. She knew it was time for a cleansing and one decade after the start of this turmoil, the USN was ready to deliver the coup de gras.

The Admiral had just successfully established a blockade around the gas giant known as Bor and the bigger of the two moons FR-1. A crushing defeat of the CTR Naval forces in open combat had lead to this opportunity. By cutting the supply line from the mining facility above FR-2, it would only be a matter of time before the USN ground forces could end this conflict. For the time being, however, she could think of nothing better to do than admire her work through the central viewport of her command deck. Lorna’s profile stood out to those with her on the bridge of the USNN Jade Serpent.  Her light, straight hair that sat naturally on the shoulder of her tall, athletic build gleamed with the radiance of the sun, yet her face remained as stone. She had always been an inspiring, yet intimidating presence to her crew and she intended to keep it that way. She hoped the image of her silently surveying the mangled corpses of battlecruisers, corvettes, and frigates of both ally and enemy make would remind them of who she was. Admiral Lorna Holden knew her crew. She knew that even though they would follow her to the ends of the unknown regions they were terrified. She liked it that way.

Resounding footsteps approached Holden from behind and the booming voice of her trusted captain soon followed. “Ma’am, we have an approaching shuttle. They claim to be civilians heading to FR-2, what’s your suggested course of action?” The Admiral glanced over her shoulder at the creature known as Captain Raymus. The strangest discovery that mankind had made when they came upon the Far Reaches was that of the indigenous life. Captain Raymus was no exception. Just like the rest of the original inhabitants of this sector, Raymus was what humanity would consider an anthropomorphic animal. He was something closely resembling a rhino, to be exact, though he stood on two legs, was capable of speech, and could use his hands to finely operate machinery.

“We’re a blockade. What course of action do we always take, Raymus?” Holden said, turning her head back toward the viewport calmly. She had grown accustomed to the creatures of this world, though most people still feared them and allowed their fear to become hatred in return. She fought hard for Raymus to become an officer, and he respected her for it. She respected him for their similar methods of ensuring victory and their drive for the betterment of all people, human and anthro alike. It also never hurt to be on the good side of a seven foot living tank. Of all the anthros she had ever come across, he was the most imposing. Whether it resembled a bear, a feline, or some other earth creature, nothing held a presence quite as commanding as Captain Raymus.

“Yes ma’am. I will prepare a boarding party at once.” Raymus knew the answer he was going to get, but he always asked her guidance anyway. He had never felt fear in his life, but he imagined the aura she exuded was something like it and he couldn’t help but acknowledge that.

“Very well. Return with news or not at all.”

Raymus turned with a grunt of confirmation and made his way through the room. As soon as Admiral Holden heard the metallic doors slide closed on the other side of the bridge she let out an audible sigh. Despite the appearance of distaste she aspired to maintain among her men, her grief actually stemmed from the incompetence of her superiors. Though there were few above her, they were there, and their presence pierced like a thorn. She grew tired of sitting idly in orbit while battles raged on the surface of the moon below. There was no reason in her mind that they couldn’t bring the whole might of the fleet down upon the remnants of the CTR. The unconvincing reason she had been told repeatedly by high command was that they wished to avoid instilling fear in the civilians. What the generals and commanders failed to acknowledge was that the people of the Reaches had been instilled with fear for the last decade.

“What’s one more day of terror when peace is sure to follow?” she said under her breath as she turned to leave the bridge. As she continued across the spanning command deck she could feel the anguish of her men. They were creatures of space to be sure, but they despised catching the enemy one ship at a time in this vacuum while their brothers in arms died en masse below. The falsehood of peace that the Union hoped to achieve by forcing a surrender through blockade seemed idiotic to the men who were putting their lives on the line every day. By blocking access to the privately owned mine they were stopping the production of weapons and fuel for the Confederacy, but to what end? The Admiral never forgot to remind her superiors that slowly disarming a threat when complete annihilation was an option was a waste of resources and foolish. And it seemed high command never forgot to answer it with deaf ears.

Admiral Holden stood waiting for the automated door to open with her arms tucked neatly behind her back. She turned her head to the left, addressing the nearest deck officer. She instantly recognized the strange, yet soft, face of Lieutenant Bugsby. This doglike creature reminded her of a puppy she had as a child back on Earth before her family made the voyage to the Far Reaches. “Lieutenant, I will be in my quarters. Hail me when Raymus reports back with the outcome of his boarding action.”

“As you wish, Admiral.” affirmed Bugsby with his small but hoarse voice.

“Thank you, Lieutenant. You have the command deck until the Captain or I returns.” Lorna turned back toward the open hallway and continued on to her quarters before she saw the excited nod on the anthros face, but she knew it was there. It always was.

The four men in Captain Raymus’ boarding party remained silent, just like the vacuum that waited beyond the unsettlingly thin hull plating of the shuttle they sat in. The small freighter they now approached claimed to be heading to FR-2 for relief effort and halted without hesitation when hailed by the Jade Serpent. This alone was reason for suspicion. Most ships that made it this far into the blockade either retreated back toward the surface of FR-1 after being contacted and if they weren’t that smart, attempted to break through before being scattered amongst the stars by various weapon emplacements that lay dormant for just such an occasion. The act of peacefully complying was unusual and thus merited the worry the crew garnered from it. Beyond that fact, Raymus couldn’t recall the last time he heard of anyone sending aid to FR-2. The scarred moon had become nothing more than a graveyard for soldier and battleship alike. Many battles had been fought on and above the ghostly sister of FR-1. The Confederacy initially drove the Union of Sovereign Nations away from the moon, but not without much loss. After the conflicts had ceased on the surface, all of the resources and tactical locations across second satellite of Bor were either stripped bare or all but destroyed.

Raymus had experienced the decimation of the moon first hand and seeing the drive to go there in anyone put him on edge. Looking over at the youngest member of his boarding party, Private Miller, Raymus saw that Miller was returning the favor, only with visible fear in his eyes. The mighty anthro knew his men could feel the tension just as clearly as he could. “You find something of note before me and drinks are on me for a month,” the rhino said out of the corner of his mouth in an attempt to raise the soldiers spirits before the same spirits were put to the test.

Private Miller let out a nervous chuckle, “Sir, unless there’s a liquor store on the next asteroid over I think I’m shit outta luck.”

Raymus rose from his seat, giving Miller a resounding pat on the back as he passed by him, “Unfortunately for you, Miller, that’s not my problem.” The captain stood in front of the airlock before his men, waiting for their shuttle to berth with the similarly sized freighter.  “Alright men, I want a quick scan and sweep. Anything suspicious comes through me. When I set foot back on this shuttle in fifteen minutes, it leaves. It’s up to you to make sure you leave with it.”

The four soldiers replied in unison to their captain, much like a quartet offering up their next song to passers by, “Sir, yes sir!”

The USNN shuttle shuttered as the docking clamps seized the waiting freighter. A low moan filled the ship as the airlocks of the two vessels aligned, readying themselves to open. At this point, all of the USN soldier were out of their seats and readying their weapons. Raymus took this brief moment of rest to gaze from the nearest viewport at the blockade. He couldn’t help but marvel at the impressive display of the fleet with her crown jewel, the Jade Serpent, sitting in lead of the formation. She was an experimental ship made with a new alloy that supposedly gave it a stealth advantage over modern sensors. The upgraded hull also gave it a unique and beautiful sheen of green from which her name was derived. The unique nature of the ship was both a blessing and a curse from the day she was christened. While the sight of the Man-O-War class USNN Jade Serpent alone was enough to make any CTRN junker smaller than a battleship turn and run, her size and appearance made her the priority target in any conflict. Raymus didn’t doubt the skills of Admiral Lorna Holden, but he still thought it a miracle that ship remained amongst the stars.

The captain snapped back to reality as the large metal airlocks slid open with a hiss. His troops scuttled past him while he surveyed the interior of the captured freighter from within their own shuttle. The unsettling situation they found themselves in just couldn’t escape the trend of getting weirder. As Raymus shifted his gaze from one side of the room to the other, he saw what appeared to be the three crew members already sitting on their knees with their hands above their heads. “Check this scrap heap for more passengers,” commanded Raymus while three of the men scurried to various parts of the ship leaving Raymus and Private Miller to stay with the overly compliant crew. “What’s your business beyond the blockade?”

“We thought our intentions were clear. We’re on our way to FR-2 to bring supplies to the villages ravaged by your war,” said the man in the middle without even a hint of hesitation. That phrase, “your war,” was a sound that never sat well in Raymus’ tiny triangular ears. He had joined the USN Navy in hopes to bring peace to every creature of the Far Reaches, not to go to war with them. It only took a year for him to fully realize that peace could only be attained by blood. It took him five years to come to terms with it.

Just within reach of his peripheral vision, Raymus noticed the man on the right didn’t look quite as content as his two compatriots. When he looked over at him he noticed that he was quite fidgety and wouldn’t remove his gaze from him. “Miller, check them,” commanded the rhino. He liked to keep his commands vague in situations such as this to try to avoid arousing any hostility in his captives. It didn’t bother Private Miller, though, he knew what Captain Raymus expected of him. Without further instruction, Miller moved toward the man on the right and unfortunately for him, the man moved back. When the Private was within reach, the man produced a blade from within his sleeve and brought his anger into physical form by repeatedly stabbing Miller about the neck and shoulders.

“You Union boys killed my brother!” yelled the man on the right, making every strike count, knowing he wouldn’t be gifted with many more.

“Peter, no!” yelled the man in the middle as he too rose to his feet. Raymus wasted no time spraying searing plasma from his weapon toward the two men. Peter and the man in the middle collapsed to the deck in seconds as the rest of Raymus’ crew arrived upon hearing the noise. They looked down at the two men, Peter had died instantly while the man in the middle looked up at them with blood trickling from a satisfied smirk, releasing his last breath into the world. “Peter died with the pleasure of avenging his brother. I die knowing your judgment will come because of mine.”

“Look!” exclaimed one of the soldiers pointing to the left of Raymus. The captain glanced upward to see the last captive who had been sitting on the left running through the corridors of the cramped freighter and toward the nearest escape pod. He quickly shifted his aim of his rifle toward the fleeing target, pressing his luck to get an accurate shot off in time. He squeezed the trigger just as the man hit the door controls. Raymus’ shot went wide and hit the frame of the door, sending sparks and shrapnel in toward the man just seconds before his safe haven rocketed toward FR-1 below. Raymus felt his age and knew the war was wearing on him. The third prisoner wouldn’t have escaped his shot, let alone have made it to the pod even just two years ago. With no time to worry about the natural degradation of his state, Raymus heard one of his men behind him speaking into his radio.

“Jade Serpent, this is Spectre Group. We have an unauthorized pod departure, do you have eyes on the target?”

“Negative, Spectre. We don’t have a shot, “ Lieutenant Bugsby replied from aboard the cruiser.

“Damn it! Orders, Captain?” The soldier waited for a response from Raymus while staring down the hallway at the now empty pod bay.  The only response he received was silence. “Captain?” This time he turned to see the anthro down on one knee next to the bloodied corpse of Private Miller. Private Miller had joined the USN Navy in hopes to bring peace to every creature in the Far Reaches, not to go to war with them. He didn’t even make it a year. He never fully realized that peace could only be attained through blood. It would now take Captain Raymus the remainder of his life to come to terms with that.