Mercenaries’ Lives

By Chris Gilman & Jimmy Lawhon

Chapter 1

The lion sits in the bar with his bare, digitigrade, feet resting on a table and his chin on his chest, apparently asleep. The bar is noisy and crowded. It’s not clear how anyone could be sleeping through the noise, but one person sees him amid the bustle of the bar’s patrons and slowly walks over to the table.

The large bison walks up and looks down at the lion in disgust. He fingers his holster and slowly starts to slip his blaster from it, then suddenly stops.

The lion’s hand is now holding a large semi-auto pistol and it is pointing straight at the bison’s head. Without moving his head to look up the lion grins, “You sure you want to do that son?”

The bison stares at the old fashioned firearm pointing at him and wonders if he can draw before the lion pulls the trigger. Maybe the antique won’t even work. Then remembering what he’s heard of this lion that would probably be a bad idea. He slowly releases his blaster and lets it settle back into its holster.

The lion finally looks up at the bison and glares at him. “Get the fuck out of here, now. If I see you again, you will regret ever looking at me.”

The bison numbly turns and walks back into the crowd, soon he melds into them and is gone. As he disappears from view the lion opens his hand and the gun just seems to fade away from view. ‘Another amateur trying to make a name for himself,’ he thinks to himself as he settles back down to listen to the chatter of the bar. ‘Only four months in this business and we’re being hunted more than half the mercenaries out here on the fringe.’ Slowly he closes his eyes again and lets his ears open to the sounds of the people around him.

So far, there hasn’t been anything worth hearing. It is amazing how much information you can learn when everyone thinks you’re sleeping though, even if you can’t use half of it.

After a short while longer of listening in on the patrons he feels the table shift as someone leans on it and sits down in one of the chairs. “Learned anything fur-ball?”

The lion slowly opens his eyes to look up at the jaguar now sitting in the chair across from him. “You should learn better then to sit with your back to most of the room.”

The jaguar flashes a toothy grin and nods. “I know, but who in their right mind is going to sneak up on me with you looking behind me and watching my back?”

The lion shrugs, “Maybe the same bison that came by about half an hour ago. He reached for a gun thinking I was asleep and he ended up looking down the barrel of Eagle.”

The jaguar shakes his head, his pony tail wagging back and forth as he does. “They never learn do they? Which one was he with?”

The lion shrugs, “I’ve pissed off more of the pirate clans then you have. It could have been any of them. Or he could have been some independent out to make a name for him self. He didn’t exactly introduce himself, but he did quickly backpedal out the door when I gave him the chance to leave.”

The jaguar smiled and nodded, “Smarter then the last group who thought they knew exactly how they could take us both out with one blow.”

The lion takes his feet off the table and sits up in his chair. “Yep, just because you don’t see a weapon doesn’t mean the person is unarmed. You got us a mission? Or are you just here to get a drink and chew the fat again?”

The spotted cat holds up a data crystal and then pockets it again. “Right here,” he says as he pats the pocket. “But we should get to the Nova before we go over it.”

The larger feline shakes his head, “One of these days I’m going to convince you that that big monster you command isn’t necessary, but then, you can’t ride in my ship.”

The jaguar gives an involuntary shudder, “Not sure I want to ride in your ship anyway. That thing gives me the creeps.”

“Why?” asks the big cat with a curious look.

“Well, I’ve known you for years, ever since we were little cubs. Then one day you disappear without a trace and no one knows what’s happened. You were gone for ten years. Most people assumed you had been killed. But, I knew different and was looking for you during that time. Then one day you show up with that ship, and refuse to tell me anything about it, where you’ve been, or even how you got it.”

The lion takes his drink from the table and finishes it off with one gulp before giving his friend a steely look. “It’s better for everyone that you not know anything about the last ten years. Suffice it to say I have been around.” He stands and starts walking out of the bar, the jaguar quickly following in his footsteps as the crowd in the bar parts before the gigantic cat.

After a few minutes they approach the hanger bays of the station. Stepping through the double doors to the hanger they look around at the bustle of a busy space station’s small craft bay. Slowly they step forward and approach a pair of mismatched fighters that sit side-by-side.

The lion walks up to a sleek streamlined ship that is colored in the black and orange stripes of a tiger and looks at it. Unlike the other small craft here it doesn’t sit on landing struts, but seems to float a few feet above the deck. There is no visible weaponry, engines, or windows. And it makes no sound as it floats there.

The jaguar stands next to him and shakes his head. “Just look at it man, not even a window to look out of. I still don’t know how you fly it.”

The lion looks over at the jaguar and shrugs. “Sorry I can’t show you, but you know why.”

The jaguar nods and holds out his hand, “You going to get suited up now I guess? Want me to take your clothes back to the ship for ya again?”

The lion nods at him and starts to strip off his clothing. His pants, vest, shirt, undergarments, everything soon ends up in a pile on the floor next to him. Soon he stands up naked and picking up his clothes hands them to the jaguar. The only thing he doesn’t remove is a metallic device that covers half his left forearm, like a bracelet. Looking back at his fighter he looks at it as if it isn’t there. His eyes do not focus on it or anything else. A panel on top that wasn’t there moments before slowly pops open and slides to expose a darkness that seems to absorb light within the craft.

He turns to the Jaguar and holds out his hand, “See ya back onboard the Nova.” The jaguar shakes his hand and watches as the lion climbs up the smooth side without effort and seems to be absorbed in the blackness of the interior as he climbs in. The panel seals once more without a seam showing and the fighter slowly rises another foot off the deck and seems to wait. The jaguar turns back to his own fighter and walks the short distance across the deck to it.

The jaguar stuffs his friend’s clothes into the jump seat behind his pilot seat and climbs into the streamlined sliver fighter craft. He straps in and flips the switches to close the canopy. As it closes he hears the lion ask for and receive clearance to launch. He flips his toggle to transmit and speaks to the tower, “Tower control, this is Silver-One outbound requesting permission to launch.”

There is a brief pause, “Affirmative, you are cleared to launch.”

He grips his controls tightly as his fighter edges its way out of the landing bay and through the air containment shield. Once in space he sees the striped fighter in front of him as it speeds outbound for the asteroid belt and the Nova that is waiting there for them.

He lifts the safety cover off his afterburner toggle and depresses it with his thumb. He feels the fighter lurch around him as a giant’s fist slams him back into the padding of his seat. Soon he catches up and passes the striped ship. He watches in his mirror as the fighter behind him quickly fades out of existence. Not in distance, but just disappears from view. ‘I got to learn how I can get something like that for Silver. Would make our missions so much more easy if both our fighters could become totally invisible to sight and sensors.’

Soon he lets up on the afterburners and his ship coasts along slowly burning speed. After about ten minutes he sees the massive bulk of the Nova through his window and changes frequencies on his radio console.

“Nova, this is Poppa, returning to nest.”

There is a moment’s pause before the radio replies with the voice of the air-boss. “Affirmative sir, welcome back.”

He turns his head to the right as he hears the lion contacting the Nova and grins as the striped fighter returns to view out of no where. ‘We definitely need to have a long talk one of these days.’

Wing to wing they slowly ease through the air barrier and stop. The silver fighter settles to the deck and the striped one once again hovers a few feet off the deck. As the jaguar climbs out of his fighter his crew chief is coming up to him with a smile across his ursine features.

“How did she handle Damien?”

The jaguar smiles at the bear and gives him a thumb’s up, “Like a dream. The acceleration of the afterburners is as smooth as could be hoped for, and still strong as always.”

They both turn as a brief shock passes through the deck. They see the naked lion once more standing up from his crouched landing on the deck as his fighter closes up. He seems to smile to himself more then anyone else as he pats the fighter.

Erik leans closer to Damien as they both watch the lion, “You know, I think we need to get ‘ole Terry over there a girlfriend soon. Being out in deep space for ten years has rattled his brains some.”

The jaguar whispers back, “I know Erik, but you know how a lot of fems fear him cause of his size. Hell, he makes me looks small and I’m six foot eight. They’ve been like that for years before he left.”

Erik nods his head as Terry walks over to them and Damien hands him his clothing. “You know, what are you going to do if you get out of that thing excited one day?”

He looks up with a wide grin as he slips his pants on, “Flash you of course.” He looks around at the number of people in the bay working on fighters, “Along with probably every other person in the hanger. Hell, I might just do it right on down the hallway as I go to my quarters. Besides, not like anyone really watches me they’re so used to it.”

Damien and Erik start laughing. “Come on Terry, let’s go check out our mission,” says Damien as they leave the still laughing Erik behind in the bay.

* * *

In their office Terry shakes his head as he looks at the display. “I don’t like it.”

Damien cocks his head at him, “Why? It’s going to be a snap. Only a few unmanned defense satellites are guarding the planet. And we’ll be freeing slaves from this evil warlord.”

Terry looks at him out of the corner of his eye, “Damien, I never trust the information a prospective employer gives us. I know you do, but I’ve been in this type of business longer then you have. And I learned long ago to not always trust the intel.”

Damien shrugs, “I tried to do some checking on this planet. But there is no record of it. Which if I was an outlaw I would try my best to ensure.”

The lion looks back at the data and nods. “You have a point, but why us?” He waves his large hand at the screen in disgust. “This is a cake walk. My grandmother dead in her grave could do this if even half of what we are being fed is true.”

“Well, yeah it is going to be kind of easy, but I figured we jump in with the Nova and then just you and I in our fighters take out the defenses. And besides, the pay is damn good. Twenty million credits, half upon accepting the mission, half upon completion.”

The lion brings up one hand and strokes his muzzle a few times, “Okay, we’ll take it.” He looks at his friend from the corner of his eyes again, “But when you let the employer know. Send them the usual warning of what will happen if this is not what they claim.”

Damien nods and accesses a com terminal on his desk. Soon their reply is sent and they sit once more in quite. Damien stands and looks at the lion, “Well, I’m going to work out some, want to come along?”

Terry waves his hand at the jaguar and rests his chin on his chest. “You go have fun. I need some rest. Maybe I’ll catch you there in an hour or two.”

The jaguar scratches his head for a minute then shrugs, “Whatever man, you know where to find me if you need me.”

There is no response from the lion as his breathing slows to a steady sleeping rhythm. He looks back at his friend and shakes his head before turning off the lights and closing the door behind him. “Man, you have changed over the last ten years. You worry me with some of the things you do say and do now.” Then he turns and slowly walks down the corridor.

* * *

A few hours later Damien is just finishing working out in the ship’s gym as he recognizes the eight foot frame of Terry walking in and stripping down to boxers. He watches him step over onto a pad and begin going through a series of stretches and warm ups. Several of the people exercising in the gym stop and start watching the lion.

Then, he begins his true workout. Now almost all of the people in the large gym are watching the large feline as he starts doing a series of kicks and punches. The only sound coming from his is the whoosh as his arms and legs fly through the air, or the rustle of his mane flying with the motions of his head.

With a rapid kick off he jumps easily ten feet into the air and does a spinning kick while flipping backwards. Murmurs of appreciation from the watching crowd can be heard as he lands back on his feet without the slightest bounce.

Damien looks around and grins. There are more people in the gym then there were when Terry started his workout. ‘It always seems to draw crowds when he starts working out.’ He looks back at his friend going through a series of power kicks that if he had of been kicking a solid concrete wall, his foot would have gone clean through.

Finally he finishes his routine and starts going through his cool down moves. Those who are watching finally go back to what they were doing. The gym is filled with low voices as they talk about what they just saw.

Damien walks over to the lion as he stands there breathing a little heavy and covered in sweat. His mane which is usually fluffy is now matted with sweat. Terry wipes his mane out of his eyes and looks at the jaguar. “Let me guess, you’ve been watching me just like everyone else.”

The jaguar nods at him but doesn’t say a word.

Terry shakes his head and sweat flies from his mane to shower Damien, “Why do you all watch me as I work out? It’s not anything special about it, just some martial arts moves.”

The jaguar leans against a wall as he watches his friend towel off. “Well, I don’t know about you, but even I can’t do some of the stuff you can do. And I’m a black belt in karate.”

Terry shrugs, “So, you can regenerate thanks to your nanites you got from that experiment while I was out of known space. Not to mention link into almost any computer system known with a thought.”

The jaguar nods and grins at his friend. “And I’m not too bad at combat either.”

The lion grins, “Better not be in this line of work. Or else you won’t live long.”

The jaguar checks his watch and grins, “Well, in about thirty-six hours we’ll be in system. Be ready to launch soon as we jump in. I’ll have the alert squadron ready just in case it is a trap.”

The lion gives him a nod, “I always tell you we don’t need ‘em, but you never listen to me anyway. If they launch, tell ‘em to stay away from any enemy capitol ships.”

“Hey, when you need it and don’t have it, you sing a different tune.”

The lion waves him off as he slips his pants back on and heads out of the gym. Damien watches him leave and shakes his head, ‘Sometimes you are just too confident man. It’ll get you killed one day.’

* * *

The jaguar now in a clean jumpsuit steps onto the bridge and acknowledges the salute from his exec. “Sir, scanners are clear and we are eight hours from our target system.”

“Good, what is status on fighter wings?”

“All wings are armed and fueled. They are ready for a good scrap sir.”

The jaguar nods to the smaller hyena, “Good.” He yawns and grins sheepishly to his exec, “wake me in seven hours Janet. I’ve been running on caffeine and adrenaline for too long.”

She salutes him and he returns it heading out of the bridge. As he walks down the hallway he rubs the back of his neck, ‘I am starting to get too old for this and I’m only twenty-eight.’

* * *

The lion wakes in his cabin, his time sense telling him they are close. He rises and slips on a pair of pants before he leaves his cabin. Walking down the corridor he passes several crewmembers that are running to alert stations.

He enters the fighter bay sees the pilots strapping into their fighters and grins, ‘Too bad guys you don’t get to fight as much, but it saves your asses.’

He keys in a sequence on his wrist unit and his fighter appears in the middle of the flight deck. Grinning as several personnel jump out of the way he walks over to it and strips off his pants. Tossing them to the deck he climbs up the side of his fighter and climbs in the once more opened panel. No one seems to pay any attention to the naked lion as he disappears into the fighter and it seals up over him.

Damien walks in a few minutes later and sees the pants lying on the deck next to the strange fighter. “Terry already in there?” he asks Erik as his points at the tiger striped craft.

“Yeah, just got in a few minutes ago,” he replies without looking up from his work. “Why does he strip naked each time before he climbs in there?”

The jaguar shakes his head, “No idea. He says it’s something to do with the interface of the ship. The only item he can wear is that wrist unit.”

The bear shudders at the thought, “I would hate to have to fly a ship naked, just think about what happens if he gets holed out there. He’d die before he could hope to get into any sort of suit.”

The jaguar nods as he slips into his flight suit and checks the power readings on the readout at the wrist. “I know the feeling. Even as bulky as these flight suits are, I would rather just have the suit for safety then just relying on my shields and armor.”

The lights in the bay start to flash red. The signal that they are about to come out of warp. Damien nods to Erik and runs for where his fighter is waiting. Ignoring the first few steps of the ladder he jumps to the fourth step and scurries the rest of the way into his fighter. Quickly he straps in as the crew retract the ladder and he watches his engines warm up.

Ten minutes later the space outside the air shield blurs and comes into focus as the stars stop streaking by. Before Damien can even reach for his throttle control Terry’s fighter is out the bay and streaking through space as a black and orange blur. Soon Damien’s fighter joins him in space as he starts running scans of the planet that floats there in front of him in the blackness of space.

‘Simple earth type planet, not much sign of technology,’ he thinks to himself as he reads the scan. ‘And no sign of any defenses, something is wrong here.’

Tuning his radio to the Nova’s main frequency he hails them, “Nova, start scanning system for signs of other ships.”

A few minutes later his exec comes over the com-link. “There’s nothing out there sir.”

“Don’t be so sure of that,” comes Terry’s voice, “I’m picking something up on the far side of the planet, and it doesn’t look friendly.”

Damien feels as if his friend’s fears are coming to crash on them, “Define not friendly.”

Terry laughs over the com-link, “Oh, about five battle cruisers, two carriers and a fleet of smaller destroyers and corvettes. That’s not counting the fighters, gunboats, and transports of course that are accompanying those big ships.”

Just about then the edge of the fleet clears the horizon of the planet. “Oh shit! Nova, launch the alert wing and get the rest ready as soon as possible.”

They don’t bother to answer him directly and Damien toggles the safety locks. His weapons’ muzzles glow with their restrained power. A bright white glow from off to his left in the direction that Terry had been draws his attention and he doesn’t believe what he is seeing.

Terry’s entire fighter is glowing with a blinding white light. Suddenly as it reaches its peak the ship flies straight for the incoming fleet. Not dodging or jinking in the least as the fleet opens fire on the closing fighter.

Damien quickly keys his com-link and screams into it, “Terry, what are you doing?! Get out of there, that’s suicide!”

He watches in horror as the fighter dives right into one of the destroyers. His breath stops as he watches the explosion, then gasps as the white blur miraculously appears again from the other side. The destroyer explodes in a silent fireball behind it. Damien watches in awe as the small glowing fighter continues on its course of destruction as it vectors in on another target.

The rest of the fighters form up as they launch and come to a stop in space next to Damien’s silver fighter. The pilots all stare at the spectacle in front of them in shock. One by one more of the huge capitol ships blow is silence. Hundreds of people die in seconds. And the white glowing ship seems to take no damage from the many hits it takes.

Damien guns his throttle and flies into the melee, his guns blazing at the first fighter to enter his range. He smiles as he flies through the expanding gas cloud that used to be the target.

He remembers what Terry said and keys his com-link, “All fighters engage the smaller craft, but stay away from the capitol ships. Terry is not going to have all the fun.”

There is a collective whoop from the pilots as they engage the chaos of the space combat. Fighters are weaving and ducking trying to get solid locks on each other. Some are succeeding, others failing.

Twenty minutes later the fighters of the Nova are floating in space, some intact, others damaged as the last of the enemy fighters explodes in a silent fireball.

Damien gets a report on everyone and nods his head as he gets the confirmation. All fighters are safe, even if a few are banged up. “Has anyone seen Terry’s fighter?”

After a series of negatives he starts to worry about what has happened. “Nova, scan the system for Terry’s fighter.”

A few minutes later the exec comes back on the com-link, “We read him in the planet’s atmosphere. There is also some kind of action going on down on the surface, but we can’t identify what from here.”

Damien growled, “Okay, recall all fighters and assume orbit over the planet. Keep the com open just in case.”

“Roger that.”

“Oh, and Gretchen, get the fighters that are undamaged turned around just in case.”

There is a moment’s pause, “Affirmative sir. They will be ready in about thirty minutes.”

Damien aims his fighter towards the world that hangs in space and engages his afterburners to get there faster. As he approaches the atmosphere he slows it down and skips along the atmospheric envelope to bleed off some of his speed.

His sensors are picking up quite a firefight below him near what appears to be a handful of drop-ships. The orange and black blur is obviously Terry. But why have drop-ships deploy mecha onto the planet’s surface? There is nothing that can even stand up to a pistol, let alone the firepower of a single mecha.

“Hey Terry, what’s going on?”

Terry’s voice sounds tired and strained over the com-link, “Got a landing force here. Want to help me wipe ‘em out?”

Damien’s fighter swoops low over the site, firing off a hail of blaster bolts from his cannons. Several of them strike the back of one mecha and it falls over onto its cockpit.

“I got these Damien. I saw a squad of them chasing a small group of people on one of the local beaches. Go see if you can help them out, and watch where those blaster bolts hit. I don’t want any civilians hurt.”

The jaguar wags his wings and turns off towards the nearest beach. Soon he sees the commotion of the towering mecha terrorizing the locals. He watches as one of them moves to step on a female panther that has tripped and is too scared to move. With a growl he shoves the throttle full forward and flies right in front of the surprised mecha which hesitates for a moment. Half a heartbeat later the sonic wave hits and shoves the huge mecha onto its back like a child’s toy.

The fem looks up at him as he circles back around and raises an arm, cheering at him. He wags his wings and lines up on the remaining squad which is now diverted from the locals who continue to scurry for cover away from the fight.

He does several more passes as he waits for the ground to clear of civilians. Once it is clear he stops dodging the fire from them and lets loose a hail storm of rockets from their under slung launchers on the wings. All the mecha are rocked by the scattered explosions. A few actually fall with smoke pouring from their cockpits where they took an un-lucky hit.

‘Three left,’ Damien thinks to himself and he finishes his current pass.

Suddenly his controls jerk and the fighter starts to shake like a leaf in a wind storm. His damage readout shows 90% of the armor over his starboard engine is gone and the engine is failing fast. He tries to switch full power to his port engine but it starts to fail too from collateral damage.

He struggles to maintain control, but he can tell it’s a lost cause as he directs his fighter over the surf. “This is Silver-One, I am going down. Repeat, I am going down.”

A wedge of five fighters swoops over his faltering fighter and land a series of shots on the mecha that are still standing. “Try to set her down, sir,” says one of the pilots. “We’ll cover you till the area is clear.”

Damien is too busy fighting his controls to respond to his fellow wingmen. With a jarring splash the underside of his fighter brushes the water and he feels the plane skip across the surface of the water. Several more times the ship skips before finally settling into the shallow water of the surf.

As the fighter finally comes to a stop he sits up from the hunched over position he had landed in. “Crap, what hit me?” He glances over his controls and frowns. Though most of the readouts on his console are out his radio is still receiving. And he clearly hears the loud roar over the com-link that could only come from a lion’s throat.

He knows what that roar means, and it mostly means trouble. “Terry? Terry, do you read me?”

Again the radio blares with the roar and Damien watches as the orange and black blur flies over and blasts a mecha that was heading towards the downed fighter. He knows he’s a sitting duck as he pulls a belt knife and cuts his straps. He breaks the glass over the red box and grabbing the handle inside pulls, but nothing happens.

‘Oh shit!’ Damien starts going over everything and even tries beating on the canopy to get out. “Nothing works, not even the emergency canopy removal.” He bangs his hand down on the console again as if it’ll suddenly start working again. Finally he resigns and sits back in his seat and pops off his flight-suit helmet. “Nothing I can do but wait.”

* * *

In the woods around the beach where Damien crashed several more mecha start to converge on the smoke cloud from the crashed fighter. Many of the pilots dreaming about the reward they will get for killing that damned bounty-hunter and commander of the twice damned Nova.

“Come on guys, not a fighter in the sky at the moment. Let’s go make sure that pussy is dead.”

There is chuckle over their com-link as they move out of the cover of the trees. Suddenly one of them screams as his mecha is turned to scrap in a bright burst of light. The others turn to see the black and orange ship coming into view from no where. Points on the bow glow with the energy build-up of weapons.

“Shit, who is that?” one of them asks.

The leader in his cockpit shakes his head. “No idea, never seen that ship before. Never heard of one that could become invisible either.”

One of them turns his torso around to bring his weapons to bear, “Whatever it is, let’s blast it.” He opens fire and several of his beam weapons hit the hull of the fighter. But instead of melting through the visible armor it seems to be absorbed into the ship without leaving a mark.

The bow of the ship slowly turns to the stunned mecha and fires. One large beam hits the cockpit of the mecha and it blows like a firecracker. The others are so stunned by the spectacle that they never see the shots that blast them to pieces too.

* * *

Terry’s fighter comes to a hover only feet from the damaged half submerged silver fighter. As it hovers there the panel on top slowly opens and the familiar form of Terry climbs out and stands on the top side looking over at his friend’s fighter. “Well, no guts no glory.”

His legs give a mighty heave and he lands squarely on the top of the wreck, right behind the canopy. The mud kicked from several near hits has coated the canopy, and besides it is tinted so normally he can’t see in any way. “Well, only one way to find out if he’s alright in there.”

Reaching over he opens the emergency access panel and smashes his hand into the button it was covering. But nothing happens. “Well, so much for the easy way.”

He slides down the canopy on his butt and stops at the front lip of the canopy. He looks at his hands and tenses them, expressing his claws. Bracing his feet on the ship’s hull he hooks his claws into the small seam of the canopy. He grits his teeth as the muscles in his legs bunch with the effort he’s putting them through.

* * *

Damien had heard someone scurrying around the outside of his fighter and had wondered idly if it was friends or foes. Several near misses from particle beams had smeared mud all over his view-ports and he couldn’t see a thing. He heard someone slamming their hand on the emergency release button, but still nothing happened.

He watches as someone slides across the canopy and wipes away some of the mud, but all he can see is a tan blur. He hears nothing more for a few minutes then suddenly the front of the canopy starts to rise from its setting. Slowly inch by inch it raises and a pair of tan digitigrade feet comes into view, bare feet. Slowly it rises, and suddenly with a screech of tearing metal it is ripped off it’s mountings by the huge naked lion with his back to the jaguar in the cockpit.

Letting go of the canopy he turns and looks into the cockpit with worry on his face, “You doing ok in there Damien?”

The jaguar laughs as he stands up and hugs the lion, “Yeah bud, I’m good.”

Terry looks down at his friend and coughs, “Um… I like you too man, but you might want to let go of me before someone sees us like this.”

With a sigh Damien lets the lion help him out of the wreckage. Together they stand on top of the fighter and survey the damage to it.

Damien winces as he looks over his baby. “Man, look at all that damage, what hit me?”

Terry shrugs, “Probably a rail-gun.”

Damien nods, “Probably. That would explain how it got through my shields so easily.”

“Never trust your shields in an atmosphere. They still work well against lasers and other such energy weapons, but projectile weapons are almost never reduced by your shields.” Terry says as he pats his friend’s shoulder. “You should know that by now.”

He nods as he looks at what is left of his engine assembly, “And looks like it was a trap after all.”

Terry nods, “Wonder why here though.”

Damien points behind them, “Maybe they can answer that question.”

They both turn to look at the beach where a small crowd has gathered. Many species are visible, but from what they wear it is clear there are many more fems then there are mels.

Terry looks at him and shrugs his shoulders. “I’m going to move Tiger over to the beach. Then we can have a talk with them, want a lift?”

“No thanks, I’ll swim it,” says Damien as he strips off the flight-suit and dives into the water with a small package clutched in him mouth. Terry just shrugs as he does a standing jump back to his fighter and climbs back in the still opened hatch.

In minutes the twenty meter long ship is hovering to one side of the crowd as the lion jumps down to land in the soft sand in a crouched position. He holds his left arm in front of him and taps a sequence into the wrist unit. Within seconds the large orange and black fighter is gone. It just vanishes into thin air.

He watches as the crowd gives a collective gasp of surprise and he turns towards the water and watches Damien walk out of the water. He gives himself a shake that sprays water all over the place but gets most of it out of his fur.

He tosses the package from him mouth to his friend still crouched from his landing. Terry catches it easily and opens it, pulling out the shorts in it. “Thanks man.”

The jaguar nods and gives him a wink, “Anytime, don’t want you scaring the natives after all.”

The lion lets out a guffaw as he stands and dons the shorts. Then Damien gets a glimpse at something he hadn’t noticed out at his fighter. There is a slight trickle of blood coming from the upper left bicep and just above the knee on the left thigh of Terry.

With a worried expression on his face he walks up and examines his friend’s arm, “You okay man?”

“Huh… Oh, that, it’s nothing,” says Terry as he brushes his friend’s hand off his arm.

“Bull shit!” He grips his friend’s arm in a strong grip again and takes a sniff. He looks up at his friend who is glaring at him. “That’s fresh blood, and it’s yours.”

“So?”

“So, how did something get through to your cockpit without damaging the outside of your ship?”

The lion easily extricates himself from the grip and turns to face the jaguar. “Nothing hurt me. Nothing got through my armor.”

Damien scowls and points at the trickle of blood still weeping down his leg. “Bull shit! What has happened to you man? You never tell me what’s going on any more.”

The lion gives him a sorrowful expression, “I can’t tell you, and if I did, you would never believe it.”

He turns away from the jaguar and starts slowly walking towards the group of natives about a hundred yards down the beach. “Come on, let’s go get some answers.”

“I wish I could get some answers,” Damien whispers under his breath as he starts to follow in the lion’s footsteps.