All the King's Horses Pt. 08

Unnamed Planet, Sector 98-A, Neutral Space

The Milky Way Galaxy

2398

"Uh oh."

Tiffany Winters did not want to hear 'uh oh.'

She didn't want to hear 'oh dear' or 'fuck' or 'shit' or anything like that but she most definitely did not want to hear 'uh oh.' In fact, she didn't want to hear anything at the moment. At the moment, her head felt as if it was being beaten about her temples by blacksmith hammers. Her mouth felt dry and her eyes throbbed and her throat felt like a ruin -- all pleasant side effects of being strangled to death. But she felt the faint, ghostly connection between herself and the Shifter-Tiffany, a shared bridge of awareness between their souls.

When this had last happened, back in 1997, a lifetime ago, it had been shocking and disquieting. She had first noticed the change when she had been in the hospital after her friends had rescued her from the depths of the Master's lair. She had been brought back on the ground in his lair, actually -- CPR had punched her from the ghostly, half present awareness that she had floated in -- but she hadn't really remembered much until she was back in the hospital...and realized she was thinking multiple things at once.

She had been thinking about how much her chest hurt, how much she fucking hated her life, and how much she had wanted to buy a new pair of shoes. That last thought had felt like hers, at first. Only later did she realize...it had been the thoughts of Brandi, the other Hunter who had been chosen in the fleeting moments between her death and her return.

Two Hunters. It had seemed so promising, at the time.

Hopefully, this time will work out better. Tiffany didn't exactly think it would. Brandi had been a sweet girl, who liked shoes and shopping and pink. She'd fought hard. And then...well...

Tiffany shook her head and forced herself to sit up. She was laying on a low hanging cot that was itself hung off the side of the wall of the Scarlet Empress and the rest of the Federation marines were hunched over what looked like a computer console they had gotten online. The technically minded marine -- a girl whose name she still didn't notice -- leaned back in her seat and blew out a slow sigh. "Well," she said. "That's a fair cop."

"What is it?" Tiff croaked, rubbing her throat.

"Winters," Bruce said, turning to look at her -- and she noticed, at Bryce. The Gal'Sem had been just as badly battered as her. And he hadn't had the Hunter spirit giving him superior regenerative powers. He was bandaged and splinted and looked like he was out cold, laid out in a cot just ahead of her.

"What's up?" Tiff asked. "What new horrible thing has transpired to ruin my fucking week?"

Bruce sighed. "We got the Empress' scanners online -- and DeeDee's breaking orbit. They left behind a MIRV package."

"Cool. Cool." Tiff nodded, her hand rubbing her throat. She was already feeling less raw -- thanks, Hunter spirit. "What's a MIRV?"

"Multiple Independent Reentry Vehicles," the techy marine said, turning and flipping her bangs back with her head. "I've even Ided the platform -- it's a city buster. Each one of the missiles on it has ten micro-missiles with a ten megaton nuclear fusion warhead on it. They're designed to hit an area, disperse to create overlapping blast zones and..." She smacked her palm down on her thigh. "Whack."

"...your ship has those?" Tiff asked. "But you're the fucking Panhuman fucking Federation! You guys don't even have malls because money's evil!"

"We have malls!" The techy snapped.

"The ship's replicator is loaded with every weapon platform we have, just in case," Bruce said, his voice a soft rumble. "Khan's just being showy."

"His name. Is. Not. Khan." Tiff snarled out through gritted teeth. "His name is Mike Hanson. He's a shit-nosed nerdlinging whiny loser who, oh right, got so limp dicked offended that a mere girl saved him from having his neck chomped and his blood hoovered up by Bimba and Bimbette the Vampire Strippers back in the 90s that he ambushed me, kidnapped me, sold me to the fucking Camerilla who then SHOT ME INTO FUCKING SPACE!" Her voice had risen in pitch the further she got and now she was standing, her head pounding with rage. "And then he STOLE my place and used it as an excuse to CONQUER ASIA and STERILIZE PEOPLE WITH AUTISM FOR FUCKING KICKS!"

She panted, heavily, feeling wobbly.

Bruce nodded. "Point."

"Did you just call...Khan a nerdlinger?" the techy whispered. "I mean. Fuck. That's like calling Hitler a...whiny...babyman when he's right there, with an army, I'm impressed."

"What can we do?" Tiff asked.

"Do? Make peace, mostly," Bruce said. "I think we have enough time to replicate some weed."

"...what?" Tiff asked -- even as Bruce held out his wrist. Glowing lines flittered out of his replicator and he scowled as they fizzled and hissed.

"Fuck, the lunar cycle on this planet must be shifting..." He said, sighing. The techy marine was beginning to pat down her pockets. Tiff looked between them, her eyes growing wider and wider.

"You gotta be kidding, man, you're Bruce!" Tiff said. "Come on, dude, you fought an entire platoon of cops for fun, you have to have a plan. We've got replicators..." She paused. "Which don't work. But, we're on a spaceship! Which doesn't work." She put her hand over her face, groaning. "We can run."

"The missiles have launched," the techy said.

"We can run now!" Tiff said, her hands tightening.

"They're going to hit in, what, five minutes?" Bruce asked. "They're going to turn several dozen kilometers into smoldering ash. We're done. There's nothing we can do but hug each other until the end. I'm sorry, Tiff..." He paused. "I mean, fuck, you know the universe is sometimes a fucking bitch and you die."

Tiff looked around, horror beginning to creep up her spine. "No. No. No. No!" She grabbed at her hair. "No. No. Fuck this. Fuuuuuuck this. I survived the Master. I survived that creepy vampire cult. I survived that fucking cyber-zombie and the fake dad, and the substitute teacher who was a preying mantis, and those kids who were possessed by hyena spirits who ate my favorite fucking math teacher, and I escaped from that factory that I think was literally actually fucking Hell that was kidnapping homeless people off the street. I've kicked werewolves in the nards, for fucks sake. I am not dying to Mike. Fucking. Hanson." She thrust her finger out, glaring at each of them. "Tiffany Winters, Vampire Hunter, is not getting nuked today."

"What's your plan then?" Bruce asked, crossing his muscular arms over his chest.

Tiff thought back to Sebastian telling her about how ships worked.

"...communication laser," Tiff said. "This ship has one, right? Laser the missiles."

"Busted," the techy said. "Though, not a bad idea."

"Fuckery!" Tiff put her hands over her face. That had been her one idea. She paced back and she paced forth, stalking around the room. Faintly, the scanner began to chime out -- slowly releasing 'pings' as the missiles drew closer and closer. The chimes began to come closer and closer together. The missiles were rushing down -- streaking through atmosphere. Tiff tugged at her cheeks. She was just some dumbshit teenager with a murderous spirit jammed into her. What was she doing, thinking she could out think these fancy future people?

No. No. There had to be something they had missed.

And then...

Tiff spun around, glared at the cot she had laid in. She almost didn't try what had leaped into her mind -- since she'd look like a total fucking tool if it didn't work. But then again, she'd look like a tool for a grand total of, what, two minutes?

Tiff drew a breath. Then she said, clearly, and angrily. "DeLancy! Get down here right this fucking instant."

Bruce, the techy marine, and even Bryce looked at her -- Bryce lifting his head up a bit from where he reclined on his cot.

Tiff tapped her foot on the ground, her shoe making a soft clink clink clink against the metal. "Oh come on, DeLancy, you showy goober, you know you want to at least mock me for asking for help in the first place."

A bright flash of white light filled the cot. When it was gone, the Harrower himself, DeLancy, was laying back there, casual as if he was in a comfy salon, not ground zero of an impending multi-megaton nuclear attack. He was dressed in the same fancy uniform -- skintight and silver, with epaulette and medals -- that Tiff had seen in the regulations manual described as the Quasiadmiral's uniform. They were only worn when the normally hierarchy free Panhuman Federation needed to have a single person in charge of an entire fleet -- and even then, the Quasiadmiral only put this clothing on during diplomatic functions with aliens who expected such things of Admirals.

"You rang?" Delancy asked. "I didn't know you cared, Winters."

"Can it," Tiff said. Then she closed her eyes. "I mean. Thank you for showing up, DeLancy."

Behind her, she heard the techy marine whispering, reverently. "Holy fucking balls."

"Don't thank me yet, my precious little bioweapon," DeLancy said, his voice verging on menacing. His brow furrowed and he sat up just a bit more. "I only came because you suggested something rather delightful. I do enjoy mocking you humans when your evolved mores run up against someone who knows how to play hardball." He grinned. "Enjoying being a fish in a barrel?"

"Now that you mention it, no," Tiff said -- the chiming was getting louder, faster, pinging in the background. "I was wondering if you could save us."

"And why, in all the god's green earth, would I do that for you?" DeLancy asked, pouting slightly. "Don't get me wrong, Winters. Your story's been mildly diverting...but we Harrowers aren't gods. We're just effectively gods. And our reach grows limited here in the Slow Zone. Now, if you were further edgeward, then, well..." He chuckled. "I'd still not help you, but I wouldn't have as useful an excuse."

"Oh, but you would," Tiff said, smiling sweetly. "Harrowers...you guys intervene in the lives of us measely mortaly moppets when you, A)..." She held up a finger. "Rescue a computer and B) when you wanna fuck with smug humans. Rightly? That's why you flung that captain you like harassing off to meet the We in the first place, right?"

DeLancy chuckled. "Taught him to quote Shakespeare at me..."

Tiff nodded. "So. Right now. There's a good AI buddy of mine named Kfap. She runs the DeeDee. And if she was able to, she'd have stopped the badguys from dropping atomic bombs on us, right? So, that means, Mike and his brigade of goonzones have enslaved her."

DeLancy sat up. His eyes had widened and an evil light had grown in them. "Oh...oh..." He paused. "And why should I help you save her, when I could just go and liberate her."

Tiff leaned forward and whispered in his ear. "Cause then Kfap would know that instead of helping her friends, you left them to get atomized. Now...I dunno about you, Harrowbutt, but I wouldn't want to honk off a computer lady who named herself Killing Fascists for Fun and Profit."

She drew back and gave him her most bubbly smile. The pinging was very loud now -- faster and faster. "Sooo, are you gonna save us, or are you gonna deal with Kfap?"

DeLancy paused. He rubbed his chin. The pinging became a single tone. Behind her, Tiff heard Bruce tensing. She saw Bryce closing his eyes. DeLancy sighed. "Oh fine." He snapped his fingers. Once.

***

Well, that was fun while it lasted.

The thought that was not her thought echoed inside of Tiff's head. She opened one eye and saw that she was still standing in the small, grungy room of the Scarlet Empress. She frowned and thought back: Oh?

Holy Me, you're still alive?

The voice of Shifter-Tiff was so similar to her own thoughts that it almost threw Tiff for a loop. She shook her head and stuck her finger into her ear as she looked out of the grimy, narrow window slits that served as the only view to the outside world in the Scarlet Empress. Her eyes widened as she saw the vast expanse of smoldering, cherry red, bubbling glass that spread out in every direction. The skies had actually cleared up -- after a fashion. Rather than the dust being from the winds, the dust came from overhead, as multiple intermixed mushroom clouds swirled and spread outwards above them. Bruce stepped over to the window as well. He lifted his wrist.

"The ship's radiation shielding should keep us safe..." he rumbled. "But Gaia..." He breathed that word with reverent wonder. He looked back -- and Tiff did as well. DeLancy was yawning extravagantly on his bed.

"How..." Tiff whispered. "Why didn't you just...destroy the nukes? Why let them go off?"

"And deny Mike his light show?" DeLancy laughed. "Please." He shook his head. "Besides. I was worried you were getting a little...how to put this..." He tapped his finger against his chin. "Sacrilegious. I wanted you all to remember just whose playground you're playing in, my children..." His eyes glowed -- and for a moment, there was not a middle aged white man sitting in the cot. There was something vaster and deeper and more timeless than anything Tiffany had ever felt before. The room grew to encompass him, the walls rippling outwards and shifting, interlocking patterns sliding one over the other. She caught a hint of spheres and other geometric shapes -- and between them, two vast, glowing eyes. Colors she had not imagined existed shone from those eyes.

"Enjoy your hunt, oh Vampire Hunter. And know this. If you fail...it is the whole galaxy that will burn..."

Echoing, his voice was all that remained of him.

"Fucking christerinos," Tiff whispered, her hands rubbing her shoulders.

"Tiff..." Bryce croaked from the bed. "Lets see if we can avoid honking off any gods for the near future."

Hey, where's this respect for me? Shifter-Tiff asked, sounding huffy. I'm ten times more godlike than...

Tiff sent her a mental expression that could only be described as 'seriously?' face. Shifter-Tiff remained silent for a few moments as the techy marine began to tap through the computer scanners, clearly trying to figure out what exactly had happened outside -- how the Harrower had protected them from multiple megatons of nuclear fire and death. From her frustrated and terrified expression, nothing was going.

Okay, fine. I'm a little bit less godlike than that, Shifter-Tiff muttered.

"Okay, Techy!" Tiff said, her hands on her hips. "We need to get this ship going -- the replicators are down for the moment, but once the moons are back in the right wibbledybibbles, we'll get the replicators whizzbuzzing to make whatever the fuck you need. Lets make a list of what we got to do before then -- and I'll gets to going to doing it. Also, uh, our suits will make it safe to walk around in the radzones?"

"They will, they're hardened for NBC combat zones," Bruce said, grinning at her. He was showing all his teeth, but there was nothing human in that smile. It was all dangerous, angry wolf -- but she knew it wasn't aimed at her. "Also, her name's Chen."

"Tech Sergeant Chen," the girl said, nodding.

"Rightzola, Techy!" Tiff said, clapping her hands together. "Lets get in over our heads."

She paused.

"Titan AE? Anyone?" She asked, looking around at them. "...come on, I watched this movie a week ago, it's the best fucking Don Bluth movie I've ever frigging seen and I'm pissed I didn't get to see it in theaters..." She pouted. "Even Sebastian liked it. Even if he kept nitpicking the science. But...fuck it!" She flung up her hands. "Lets get to work!"

***

Relay Supremis-B, Centurion Empire

The Milky Way Galaxy

2398

Nero ambled into the command room of Supremis-B and yawned.

"Hey Nero," Naja said, looking up from her console, where she was watching some rather impressively well animated computer generated porn of two Federation Garou fucking Shadowblade. She didn't even turn down the sound as the meaty thock thock thock thock of sheaths, balls, and cocks and various sundry body parts filled the air. Nero, who was wearing what could only loosely be considered a Evocatus' uniform. He had the coat slung lazily over one shoulder, while his chest was covered in a Capellan T-shit with the logo of his favorite bloodball team emblazoned across his chest. His face was as unshaven as his head was bald, and he looked as haggard as Shadowblade would have looked if she had really gone six rounds with two garou in their warforms.

And unlike her, he wasn't a computer animated figure.

"...hey..." Nero said, closing his eyes. "Naja. Are you fucking watching porn?"

"...no..." Naja said, slowly, reaching over to click from the tab showing the porn to the sensor readout screen on her console. The sounds continued to come from the speakers.

"Gods, Naja, the sound is still fucking on!" Nero said, throwing up his hands. "Fuck this, I need another beer."

"Another? It's 0900..."

"I need a beer then! A beer, Naja, fuck."

"Okay, man..." Naja spread her hands. "It's not like the fucking Emperor's going to come by and execute us. This sector has been quiet for two centuries. The only thing out there..." She pointed at the vast starry expanse that spread beyond Relay Supremis-B. "Is one atom per cubic kilometer, at best. It's a dirty vacuum and in two months, we're both getting cycled out and they can put some Legionaries in here whose nag'la haven't dropped and are still waiting to earfuck for the first time."

"Gods, is that what they're calling tej these days?" Nero asked, emerging from the supply closet with some Centurion ale. He chugged the green fluid right from the bottle and felt slightly better. He noticed that Naja had turned the volume down, but he could still hear the fake porn-moans of Shadowblade. "You know, she doesn't sound like that in the official pornos."

"Yeah, like I'm spending credits on the real porn on a fucking Signifer's salary," she said, grinning at him as he sat down in the only other seat in the whole of the command bridge. He sighed, slowly, then started to pick grit out of his eyes, then tapped his view screen, frowning as he brought up the few duties he actually had. The first was to check on the Remans. They slept in their cryopods. He nodded, slowly.

"Remans look fine," he said.

"You think they're fun in the sack?" Naja asked.

Slowly, Nero turned to look at her.

"What?" she asked. "They're big scary beast guys genetically programmed to follow even the lowliest Centurion's orders as if they were the Emperor themselves." She rubbed her chin, slowly. "That could be hot."

"They don't have genitalia and die two years after they're decanted," Nero grumbled, looking back at the screen. "That's why they're on ice, Naja."

"Yeah, but...tongue," Naja said, casually. "It'd be hot."

"We're not having this conversation," Nero said, frowning as he tapped up the next console. They still had their full store of munitions -- nuclear bombs, a few Reman boarding torpedoes, and the hull mounted antiproton guns. The primary weapon of the Centurion Empire was the APG. Some days, Nero felt a tiny bit nervous about how many tanks of antiprotons were stored around his sleeping arrangements. Most of the time, he was able to ignore it. Then he tapped up the sensor records of the past twenty four hours and skimmed over them with his eyes.

Then he stopped.

His brow furrowed. There was a minor irregularity -- one that the computer had flagged as being a sensor glitch. He frowned, then tapped a few buttons, bringing up a deeper scan of the area.