AUTHOR'S NOTE: Originally, this story was supposed to be a lascivious space romp, chock full of pure-bred full-blown sex. That didn't happen. It turned into width-and-breadth story with character and plot development. I TRULY did not see that coming.
Once again, I want to thank you all for the WONDERFUL, thought-provoking suggestions and inspiration to keep going. It should be noted that the physical descriptions of Quillan, Alice, the late Nessie, Charleen, and Amanda are based entirely on real people (the personalities, however, are quite fictional).
I hope you enjoy this installment!
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Chapter 8
HOSTILE TAKEOVER
Quillan, Alice, the new captain of the MALCOLM H RAYBURN, Jonquil Latimer, and several others sat in the conference room of the ship, speaking on an ultra-secure channel to the holographic image of Alliance President Gerild B. Cuthertson which hovered over the table.
Cuthbertson looked every inch a politician, from his angular, smooth face and wavy gray hair to his custom tailored suit. On his right hand, he wore his most prized possession: an Academy Command-And-Control class ring. He had graduated Number One in his Academy class of seventy two thousand, three hundred, sixty two. An illustrious career in the military spanning nearly four decades, during which time he had accumulated more medals and awards than anyone since the mid-twentieth century conflict in Vietnam. Upon military retirement, he had entered the political arena. A two-year Mayorship, four-year Governorship, four-year Senator. On his sixty-eighth birthday, he received the ultimate birthday present: the Alliance Presidency.
He didn't put up with, nor dole out, any bullshit. He was a straight-shooting, in-your-face President.
"Mr. President," said Quillan, eyebrow quirked, "with respect, sir...What the fuck do you mean?"
The newly installed screen before Quillan, set flush in the table, switched from an image of the Presidential Seal to one of a legal document. Quillan read it silently, then looked at Alice to get the cyborg's attention and pointed at the notary's signature with a sly smile. The Alliance still had no clue, nor did they need to know, that Commander Alice Nine was a fully self-aware computer who had created another sentient computer; one who had apparently completed naming herself. Alice's perpetual half-grin changed to a smirk.
The document had been notarized by one Salli Anne Coffler.
"Captain Margoles," said Cutherbertson, a slightly annoyed look on his face at her crude verbage and slight disrespect, "you've been a busy girl. Per your Letter of Marque and Reprisal, the individual named at the beginning of that document was on our Declared Enemy list and the spoils of that encounter are indeed yours. The Alliance doesn't care how an enemy is neutralized, only that the enemy is neutralized. Understand though, that there are several tens of thousands of completely innocent third parties in this case.
"You are a privateer. But, I caution that YOU," his hologram stabbed a pointed finger at her, "have people to answer to now, and that killing innocents WILL reflect poorly on you. Use extreme caution in your dealings with them.
"Now, as a way of saying thanks for your work so far, I've ordered that a new fusion reactor be delivered and installed. It will be there in five hours' time and your ship will be operational within the next twenty four hours."
Quillan's eyes widened and her face went white at the generosity being shown. Military-grade fusion reactors weren't cheap.
"Thank you, Mr President."
"Once you've achieved full operational status again, contact MilCom for an updated list of optional targets. And be more careful, you got exceedingly lucky this time."
His image blinked out of existence.
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"Gonna be hard to do, Captain," Charleen said seriously to the image on the viewscreen. She and Quillan were discussing what had happened in the past few days.
"Salli took off on her own and ain't back yet. She said I'd be happy with the outcome, but didn't say what it was going to be. Why do you want us to go back to Purgatory, anyway?"
"Captain Wilkerson, I know PRECISELY what the outcome is," replied Quillan. "She'll be there in a few minutes with reinforcements. Make sure she knows that YOU are the captain and that what she did was tantamount to mutiny. Give her a good dressing down, but DO NOT piss her off. She's on our side, remember.
"Once she's back and you are underway to Purgatory, get her to access Database One Seven Five Beta Beta Two of Earth-Actual NewsCom. Look for the file marked, 'Antaren Colony Gets New Swimming Pool.' The password is 'Death To Non-Alliance Seven Seven Four Three.' Your answers are there, along with instructions on what to do when you hit Purgatory."
"Uhhhh," hesitated Charleen, scratching the back of her head, "you're the boss and you ain't steered us wrong yet, but...what the fuck?" A low rumble grew in intensity and then faded; incoming ships blasting overhead. Charleen's image looked off screen, presumably out a window. "Salli's back...and she brought friends...how did you know...?" She shook her head. "You gotta teach me that trick, Captain."
"Be nice but firm with her and we'll meet you at Purgatory in a couple of days."
Charleen began smoothing her jumpsuit in preparation to yell at a COMPUTER, of all things.
"Yes'm. See you then."
"By the way," grinned Quillan, "her full name is now, 'Salli Anne Coffler.' I assume her last name is a variation of the ship's old name."
"Noted, Captain. Thanks."
Charleen closed the channel, smoothed her hair and jumpsuit again, then purposefully strode toward the door of the comm shack with a stern look on her countenance.
"Issue a recall of the crew and tell them we're leaving in four hours," she called over her shoulder to the communications agent.
Krystine "Witchypoo" Talbot and Felicity "Twinkie" Toprak, in an open topped hovercar, drew alongside Charleen as she moved in the direction of the ships.
"Hey, Captain," greeted Krystine, her needle sharp teeth grin gleaming in the late afternoon sun, "we saw the ships come in and were headed over there to check the fighters. Need a lift?"
Charleen cracked her knuckles and clambered into the back.
"Quite so," she replied, a slight menacing tone in her voice. "Salli has a wee bit of explaining to do."
Twinkie grinned and took a drag from her cigarette. She'd had her teeth filed into points identical to Krystine's. Krystine slammed the accelerator pedal to the floor, the rear thrusters giving a roar as the hovercar shot forward. One speed for Witchypoo: full throttle.
"Captain," Twinkie said as she exhaled the smoke, giving her the appearance of a miniature dragon, "Salli's only a couple of weeks old; cut her a little slack, huh?"
