The Way It Is

secret mission - part 1

I am standing awkwardly in a large conference room on the AAF Conquest. The name seems a little presumptuous to me. Granted, this has to be the largest military ship I have ever seen.

It had still been in the process of being built on our deployment. Just being finished a few cycles ago. This is its first active mission. They went overkill on white, if anyone wants my opinion. Bloody well hurts the eyes.

Perhaps they didn't have a choice. The interior walls are made out of some sort of bio-mechanical material that is technically alive. Creepy right? The latest and greatest in Armada technology. Smart, interactive, bio-mechanical, living walls. It is just wrong.

You can see what looks like faint outlines of light purple veins running through it. I decided to think of them as membranous feeding tubes instead. It makes me feel better.

Even though the ever so slight pulsing of the walls makes it hard to ignore that this ship is alive, if I am honest, it makes my skin crawl. Not that I will be here much longer.

I had been briefed on the short ride up. It turns out I won't be leaving the planet's orbit with everyone else and now find myself waiting to meet my new partner for my next mission.

The best part? We are heading back down to the planet. Can you say, fucking screwed? I so am.

We are going on a top-secret mission. That would sound kick-ass if I was five and wasn't risking my life for something I didn't even understand.

It seems like a fucking stupid idea. Like really fucking stupid. I let out a heavy sigh pinching my eyes shut. I need food.

This secret mission had been part of the original Marshal's objective. With his disappearance, however, went the knowledge of the secret mission. Thus, it was never completed. Lucky me.

At least I have a better understanding of why they left us on the planet so long. Once they had heard the original Marshal had vanished, they had to come up with plan B. It took them long enough to enact it.

So my new partner and I, who knows out of what crazy basket he crawled out of to want to volunteer for this, are supposed to go back to the dying planet and find some frozen Human in a stasis pod.

First, I didn't know Humans had ever discovered such technology as stasis pods. Not to be overly critical, but it seems relatively advanced for them. Second, we aren't just going back to the dying planet. We are going to the driest, deadest fucking part.

Can we just call it the death planet for now? Because if the planet itself doesn't kill me, the remaining Zu'Lar probably will. Unlike my superiors, I don't believe for a second they have retreated to their ship.

Oh, let's not forget that, according to Chief Nekkal's reliable sources, the Feyronian Government have sent someone out to find this Human too. And possibly the Iornos Star Alliance. Neither of which are part of the United Galaxies under Armada's "protection" or, as I like to say, control.

They have no reason to be friendly to us if we run into them. Yup, it sounds a lot like death to me.

Don't get me wrong, I like a challenge, but this is a suicide mission. Not a challenge.

Sica had said no one knew about this mission, not even the Armada Board of Directors. It is top-secret and imperative that we be successful.

So no pressure.

The only other intel she and Chief Nekkal had been willing to share was some of the possible threats.

As I said, they don't believe that the Zu'Lar will be a threat on this mission. With the planet now devoid of all human life and their ship seriously damaged from an insanely powerful new weapon on this ship, they should be retreating and getting ready to warp out themselves. Well, assuming their warp drive was or would be working. This is just a theory. I don't trust it.

On a different note, the Commander-in-Chief had magically disappeared as soon as our ship had docked. It hadn't bothered me in the least not seeing him around.

But now he is walking in laughing at something his companion is saying, smacking the big guy on the shoulder. I just catch the tail end of their conversation.

"Sounds like you'll have no problems then. I highly doubt she's as volatile as Squardrim in heat." They both burst out laughing again.

They don't know I am already here. But really, that's what they were going to compare me to? That didn't seem fair or in any way accurate.

Guardholes!

Squardrim are a freaky species with almost translucent blue skin, four arms, two legs, extremely long bodies, bulging black insect-like eyes and four strange long tentacles protruding from their heads.

They do have hair, which leaves me wondering how they manage to style it without tying up their long tentacles too. Did I mention the tentacles move of their own volition if they let them? It freaked me out the first time I met a Squardrim.

Anyway, they only mate once a year when a female goes into heat, which lasts almost three weeks.

Some things should never be witnessed.

Now that I am thinking about it, I have to admit I may be a little traumatized. They have these completely unexpected musical voices that can almost hypnotize you. Before you even know what's happening, you have some overgrown eight-and-a-half-foot-tall female rubbing pheromone reeking girly parts all over you while her tentacles molest you.

Ya, they aren't picky about who they play with when in heat just as long as it's often and very energetically done.

So maybe I am a bit sensitive on the subject of Squardrim in heat. I can honestly say I will never get drunk alone on their planet ever again. I had nightmares for a week. And I couldn't get the stink off my clothes. I finally gave up and trashed them. I had wanted to burn them, but it had seemed a tad dramatic, even for me.

Pretending that I hadn't been paying attention to them as they entered, I stand stalk still, watching them. I have to suppress a shudder, though, as images of a Squardrim in heat flash in my mind. It is all I can do to not physically shake myself to get rid of the queasy feeling raking over my skin.

Thankfully my training kicks in, and I manage to stay at attention. Just barely. Besides, they had to be talking about someone else. I have never thrown myself at a male for sex. Never needed to.

I take a moment to assess my new companion while he is busy being jovial with Commander asshole. He has tanned skin, short shock white hair in a military buzz cut, square jaw, damn near seven feet tall, broad shoulders and pointed ears.

He could be a Zukrog, but Zukrog are not tanned. They all have trademark alabaster skin. This guy has me stumped. That didn't happen very often.

If it weren't for his skin, I would be positive he is Zukrog. Maybe he is a half-breed? But with what? It couldn't be Zu'lar, could it? He does look just like one. I hope not, because I will have to kill him.

It would explain the broad shoulders and muscled arms, though. Most Zukrog are the epitome of grace, having long, lithe bodies with lean muscles all evenly proportioned. This male is top-heavy.

I notice he has the most striking fiery gold eyes. I can't gauge his age correctly. I have been trained to assess people critically within seconds of seeing them. I have more than a bit of pride in my skills on this account. I rarely judge someone wrong. Not being able to gauge this male on almost any level is unnerving.

When he laughed with the Commander, his face had looked young, almost youthful, but now that he is staring at me, I can see small lines on his face by his mouth and crow's feet by his eyes, as he frowns down at me. The white hair is not helping.

Wait!? Ahhh shit!