Starr vs the Emperor of Space Pt. 14

Thus, the Sword had been transformed from engine...to weapon. From distant voyager of stellar exploration to temple home of a priesthood sworn to protecting the Earth from the Space People until the Earthlings had left their home and were mature enough, technologically and socially, to interact with the advanced people that dwelled within their stellar home. Looking upon it, Jasmine tried to imagine the pure wonder of the ancient colony ship as it streaked from the distant home system, so small and faint and far that human telescopes could not begin to even imagine it was there...a million tons of steel, soaring through space containing the preserved genetic structure of every member of every species in that populated system, coming here...

She shook her head slowly, then saw the Space Car that was trundling through the lunar dirt towards the Atomo and the Salty Sirius, which sat like twin towers in a lonely white plain. The Space Car had three men within, each wearing ornate spacesuits, their helmets opaque and white, their capes glittering gold and still in the airless void. The Space Car sent up a stream of powdered dust as it came to a stop, and one of the suited figures stepped forth and Jasmine realized that they were, in truth, nearly three meters tall! Spindly and tall, they loomed above her as she stood there - and the realization flashed through her mind!

The Order that had tended to the Sword over the generations had done just that: Tended to it over generations. And over those generations, their children had been raised not on a spinning habitat like Pluto or the relative vastness of Venus. Instead, they had been raised upon the Moon, who's gravity was significantly lesser than that of Earth. And so, they had grown tall and spindly, and now, towered like elegant giants above her relatively squat, curvaceous figure. Jasmine inclined her torso to the moonman, and the moonman inclined his figure back - the full body space nod required by etiquette inside of environment suits.

"You are the Jasmine Starr we've heard so much about, eh?" the figure said. "I am the Protector of the Sword, Jabar Kell. We can take you to the Sword itself - and you can meet the Elders. If you speak true, then it may be that Zardo's long reign of terror will at last come to an end...and if you speak falsely, then we will all be facing his agonizer I'm sure."

Jasmine nodded, then stepped onto the space car - settled in, strapped herself down, and flashed a playful grin at Jabar Kell. "Don't worry," she said. "If I'm wrong, we'll be atomized by something a lot faster."

Jabar let out a quiet grumble.

The space car trundled into a vast gantry bay that held the many vehicles used by the Order to maintain the Sword. They parked beside an airlock and there, Jasmine was taken from the vehicle to the interior of the Sword itself - and she noticed something almost immediately as the doors cycled shut. The first was the sterility of the walls and the corridors through which she walked...and the second was the derth of people. She saw two guards by the airlock, then no one for quite some time as they navigated through labyrinthine facilities - past doors that looked in at chambers full of clacking and humming computing-machines, past doors that looked into vaulted chambers full of what seemed to be sacred symbols and temples and shrines...

But past very few people.

The main meeting hall for the Order was grand and magnificent, but by this time - nearly the end of her first year in the vastness of space, Jasmine Starr was sick and tired of magnificent structures built to obscure or amplify the crimes and glories of any particular interstellar despot. This particular interstellar leader, at the very least, did not seem to be inclined to the self aggrandizing: The leader of the Order of the Stars was a tall, spindly woman who might have been cut from the very same cloth as the Faemen of Venus, save that her skin was as milk pale as theirs was ebon black. Her hair was long, straight, and the same shimmering white as her distant kin beneath those sweltering sulpheric skies.

"Jasmine Starr..." she said, slowly. "Adventurer. Vagabond. Savior of Venus. Enemy to Aytan Zardo. We have heard much of your exploits - and the exploits of your companions. In each band of the system - inner, outer, belter - you Earth men and Earth women have worked hard to stand out against the flow of history."

"That is the way of our people," Jasmine said, quirking her lip in a smile. "And you are?"

"I am the Sword Bearer. And I received your communication ray...and I must admit, it strikes me as an extremely odd thing for one in your position to request." She gestured her long fingered hand towards the curved white wall to her left - there, a hidden video-screen came to buzzing life. Within was a shockingly clear image, seamed by only the most minute lines of the cathode projecto-ray tubes that made up the elegantly small viewer, of an Imperial war rocket, currently decelerating towards their point of view. "You ask that we spare this ship? This bears the most vile of all of Aytan Zardo's lieutenants, his fearsome Commander Skar Tailscorn."

"Yes," Jasmine said, smirking.

"Why?" The Sword Bearer asked.

"Quite simply, ma'am," Jasmine said. 'That ship is under the command...of Mark Styles, United States Army Ranger, hero of the Battle of Bastogne and ace reporter. Within her armored belly is carried every warrior the Underground of Free People's can bring together to stand against Zardo. Behold!" She sprang forward in the light lunar gravity before she could be stopped, taking hold of the knobs and dials that jutted unobtrusively beneath the view-screen. She twirled them, bringing up a view of the solar system, while the Orderites gasped in shock. "You see Zardo's plan. He attacks from both hemispheres at once!"

"Madness!"

"Impossible!"

"He would lose half his rockets!"

The words babbled over one another at once. Jasmine looked at the Orderites, shaking her head. "You had to have seen the trajectories!"

"He is clearly seeking to feint us out," one of the Sword Bearer's generals said, coming to his spindly height. "The Sword has been sheathed for thousands of years and he hopes that he can make us break that ancient truce, to then force us to dicker in the space courts-"

"The space courts!?" Jasmine spluttered. "You think that the man who named himself Emperor of Space gives a damn about the courts!? Who are you, who speaks such-"

"You are a troublemaker, Jasmine Starr!" The general thrust his finger at her. "I am the most respected and honored General of the entire Order - General Neh Farious! You will do well to listen all of you!" He turned to face the rest of the audience, spreading his arms wide. "Jasmine here seeks to spark a war with Zardo! A war that we in the Order have avoided for all these long years - the Sword of Stars is a terrible weapon. If we were to use it, then it would be that much easier to use again, and again! And what if the next time, we turn it not upon a Plutonian tyrant, but instead upon those who merely slight us?" He shook his head. "That way lies madness."

Jasmine narrowed her eyes.

"And so, you think we should let the rockets come?" the Sword Bearer asked.

"No - we shall threaten the rocket that comes, and if it does not waive off, only then will we destroy it...with conventional arms. We have atomic bomb rockets and nuclear pellet guns. We can use them!" The General slammed his palm into the table. "The Sword need not be drawn."

"Interesting," Jasmine said, quietly. "That you would kill the ship bearing friends - but urge caution in the face of Zardo's attack!"

"You dare imply me a traitor?" The general spluttered. He drew from his curved sash a pointed dagger. "You Earth born wench!"

"How much did it cost for Zardo to buy you!?" Jasmine snarled, as the other generals gasped in the sudden spiraling of their meeting. The general, his eyes wild with rage and panic alike, threw his knife in a single twitch of his wrist, before anyone could react! Jasmine had but a moment - and in that moment, she drew her magneto-rapier and parried the knife that flew at her face, sparking it in half with a spray of metal fragments. The Sword Bearer struck the general across his face with her gloved hand.

"General Neh Farious!" she hissed. "How dare you strike at a guest of the Order!"

"She insulted my honor!"

"I-" Jasmine started, but stilled as the Sword Bearer raised her hand, quieting her.

"It is true," she said, quietly. "To insult a man's honor is to invite an attack just such as this. And so, I will have you both step back from this debate." She nodded. "Zardo's fleet, the majority of it, will not enter the range of the Sword for another few hours. We have time enough to decide." She snapped her fingers. "Take Jasmine to her guest quarters."

Jasmine nodded, bowed low - and as she bowed, she subtly tapped on her communication wand, tucked into the bracer she wore on her left wrist. Into it, she whispered: "You got all that?"

"Yes! Are you all right, mistress?"

"I am. You know whom you must...rile."

"Aye, aye!"

***

While the deliberations continued, General Neh Farious stretched and walked through the corridors of the Sword, heading for his cabins. He needed to both get away from the rest of the Order...and to his own secret communication ray emitter console! For Neh Farious was, in fact, a traitor to the Order of the Stars, secretly aligned to none other than Emperor Aytan Zardo, the would be Master of Malevolence himself! Thinking on this, General Farious chuckled quietly and murmured, softly: "Fools!"

When the Emperor landed his Clone Legions on this pitiful planetoid, he would be made master and commander of the whole of Luna - and every woman on it would be his for the picking! With that thought to cheer his black heart, General Farious turned the corner and came up short as he saw another Earth Woman walking through the corridors, holding a tray of space cutlery and small confections that would one day be the target of such elegant and useful utensils. She froze upon seeing him and gasped. "Oh, I'm sorry, do you know where my mistress, Jasmine Starr, is staying?" She asked, turning around, giving General Farious a view...and oh, what a view!

The Earth Woman, unlike Jasmine Starr, was curvaceous in the extreme, with full and bountiful breasts that were just barely contained by the white and black dress that she wore, the frilly skirt that flared about her milky white thighs exposing the garters and stockings she wore. Her blond tresses were done into an elegant braid that ran along her back, topped with a small white crown of cloth that made her look both servile...and sensual. General Farious licked his lips...and then when the woman completed her turn, she let out a soft 'oh tarnation!' as one of her spoons fell from the tray. She bent forward, the skirts rising up to reveal the white panties that did little to conceal the luscious loneliness of her rump.

General Farious knew he need only maintain his cover as a goody two shoes member of the Order for a mere few more hours...but...then again, each of Jasmine's allies he dealt with was another that would be of no threat later...

"I can show you where she is," he purred, stepping up behind her. She let out a soft gasp, then a cry of shock as he gripped her shoulders, pushing her forward into his chambers. She stumbled in the light gravity, her voice shocked.

"S-Sir! Why I never! Get your!" she gasped as she was spun about and he grabbed onto her wrists, the tray knocked from her hands. He kissed her, fiercely, and she struggled weakly against him. When the kiss broke, he growled.

"Be silent and lay back! When this moon is under Zardo, you wenches will have to get used to this," he growled, quietly.

"Y-You...Zardo!?" the woman gasped, so shocked that General Farious had to laugh.

"Of course, you pathetic Earth Woman!" His hand grabbed the collar of her uniform, then ripped forward, exposing her bright pink nipples to the air, tatters floating through the air. "Now do be quiet, lest I get rough with you!"

Jasmine's pet whore gasped, then whispered. "P-Please! Be gentle!"

"Oh, I'll be as gentle as I wish...which is not at all!" General Farious laughed - squeezing her breast roughly, tugging upon her nipple, entirely captivated by the bounty before him...so captivated, he noticed not when Claudette T.S Grant's experienced hand closed around the lower edge of her dropped, remarkably heavy tray - a tray that was far more dense than it needed to be. She gripped, firmly, then lifted her hands, meekly, as he leaned forward to nuzzle greedily at her tits, whispering softly to himself. "Ah, what a lovely pair! You will be one of my-"

CLUNK!

General Farious' eyes went crossed, wobbled within their sockets...and then closed as he fell to the side, his hair matted with a fine smattering of blood from where the impact had come smashing down. He sprawled there, while in the doorway, Jasmine Starr, Altair Polaris, and the shocked Sword Bearer looked down at him.

"As I said," Jasmine said. "The play was the thing."

"Have General Farious thrown into the brig at once!" The Sword Bearer snarled.

Altair Polaris cracked her knuckles, her one eye flaring with rage as her wife sheepishly tried to hide her breasts. "M-Might I get new clothes, ma'am?"

***

The War Rocket that landed upon the moon did so at almost the exact same moment the Sword of Stars began to fire, for the first time in the entire history of the solar system. From the surface, within the massive housing of the titanic weapon, it was a remarkably unimpressive sight. The ancient machinery that created and channeled the power of the Sword ran with quiet humming, and the only noticeable change within the superstructure was a faint increase in heat - the byproduct of the waste heat of the Sword's immense reactors working at higher degrees than before.

The only place where one might have seen a chance was at the nozzle of the mighty weapon. There, a beam of invisible particles, stripped down beyond even their most fundamental components. They were no longer atoms at all, but rather photons that had been accelerated to a staggering percentage of the speed of Light itself, flung forth in a narrow beam barely wider than that of a human pencil. This terrible sword of pure energy had once been used as the exhaust plume of a starship taller than the Empire State building - and now, it was used not to propel...but to destroy!

The first War Rocket it touched was at the head of the trailing formation behind the lead rocket and it struck with the force of a thousand atomic bombs detonating in a single furious moment. Where once there was a crew of deadly clone commandos and their harsh naval counterparts, all set and focused upon their duty and objectives of mayhem and conquest...the next moment, there was nothing but space dust, expanding in a fine, glowing haze of luminous death! And so the story was repeated, again and again and again! That finger of death sought out rocket after rocket, sweeping from space vehicle to space vehicle, and behind each touch it left nothing but fog and the memory of the clones that had been there.

Aytan Zardo saw all...

And cared not a single fragment of an atom. He sneered, slowly, shaking his head as he witnessed a full half of his multi-pronged attack flare to death. "So, it seems the Sword has not been suborned to me...General Farious has outlived his use." He chuckled softly - sitting within the final war rocket in the alternative attack prong, which even now, approached the moon from the other hemisphere of its rotation. They would, in the time bought by the distraction of the other invasion fleet, be able to land upon what the foolish Earth men referred to as the 'dark side' of the Moon and, from there, launch a ground attack against the Sword, below the angle of the deadly weapon's killing beam!

"Sire, fifty percent casualties in Invasion Fleet Two," one of his clone commandos intoned. "Sixty...seventy percent! Clone Commander Darkness is requesting if he can withdraw."

Zardo's eyes crinkled in amusement. The foolish clone thought he could retreat. But no, his own bravery had seen him decelerate so much that, now, he would remain even longer within the range of the Sword were he to try and accelerate away. "Tell the Commander that he is free to retreat. Thus Speaks Zardo!"

"So merciful," one of the clones whispered to his fellow. "Most men would be killed for requesting retreat."

"Yes, look upon the Mercy of Zardo," Zardo murmured, stroking his mustache - and knew that by the time the invasion was done, this story would spread throughout his clone legions. He would need that extra loyalty, built atop their space indoctrino-training programs...

"ETA to land...two space hours, my Emperor."

"Very good," Zardo said. "Though, what of Skar's war rocket?"

"It landed...safely, sire!"

Zardo's eyes narrowed. "What?"

"Sire! Invasion Fleet Two's telescope-scanners...they see...soldiers emerging from it! Soldiers bearing the colors of the Underground of Free Peoples! They're rushing the Sword. Sire! They're...they seek to fortify it!" His sensor clone said, turning back from his computer-machine's view screen.

"One platoon of pathetic so called freedom fighters against the might of Zardo's clone legions?" Zardo chuckled. "Madness. But delightful madness. I see in this the hand...of my old nemesis...Jasmine Starr." He growled, softly. "And through her, that Earthman, Mark Styles. Yes...prepare to launch..." His hand stroked his beard, and he crooned the words. "...the Robots of Death."

***

The first thing Mark Styles saw of Jasmine Starr was when he came through the airlock, his rocket bolt rifle tucked against his shoulder, the Star Princess Zella at his side - and what he saw was a woman...as identical to the woman he had last seen in orbit around the Earth. She wore the same bright red panties and bra, had the same confident smirk, and had the same air of a woman who knew precisely what was going to happen next. Seeing that utter immutability upon her features was enough to make Mark feel as if, for the first time...they were going to make it home. He strode forward, laughing. "Jasmine!" He said, as she exclaimed, at the same time: "Mark!"

The two embraced, pounded one another on the backs, and then drew away, beaming. Behind Zella came C'law and Gennie, dragging one of the many supply crates from the war rocket, and behind them came Robin Robinson. Jasmine did a quick double take, seeing the massive Cybrid woman.

"I may look like I'm right from Jupiter, but I was born in Surrey," Robin said, grinning playfully down at Jasmine.

"...you must have had quite a remarkable adventure," Jasmine said, chuckling.

Mark, glancing over at S'hira, Lancer, and the crew of the Salty Sirius, and Claudette and Altair, laughed. "And you haven't?"

"Fair enough," Jasmine said, shaking her head.

"It is a mite odd being so close to home...yet...still so far away," Robin said, her voice growing wistful. "It is not as if I can go back to Earth, looking like this." She shook her head - sadly - while Jasmine chuckled.

"Please, Robin! Nothing is impossible with the practical application of science," she said, then grinned. "The Sword of the Stars contains several chambers ripped right from the original Colony Ship. That includes...a medical bay." She said, causing Robin to blink in surprise.

"Really?" she asked.

"Yes, I made sure of it when I knew a battle would be starting soon," Jasmine said. "Come!"