Pillum nodded, satisfied with the answer and not showing any outward distress at being hated by a people he didn't even know. By contrast, Revarjah looked troubled that many of the people he'd come to love from afar now held him in contempt.
"We'll of course be able to arrange guided tours for you," Councilman Whitmore clarified, ever the peacemaker, and a better compromiser than Nevil Chamberlan. "We just can't unload you all at once, you understand..."
The aliens nodded, looking somewhat appeased. There were some more questions traded on both sides, but overall, the Council was satisfied with the way in which Michael had handled the situation. He hadn't promised the outsiders anything, nor had he portrayed Earth as a helpless entity that'd only had their technology for mere months and needed all the help they could get. Michael was a little depressed at how far diplomatic relations had fallen when he realized they'd actually expected him to kill some people to send a message.
At one point, the Council let slip that they had captured some of the B'Amuf ships and crews. The aliens looked startled at this news and Pillum said it was a shame they couldn't communicate with them or read their logs. If they could determine who led the attack, they'd know who was coming next.
Michael smiled and said, "There are a few people I think you'll be interested in meeting." He then rattled off the name Pandora provided for him of the B'Amuf leader he'd talked to. The color seemed to drain out of all the alien faces in the room, save Mara's. At least, he thought the colour didn't drain from Mara's.
One of the merchants stood and explained, "According to our intelligence network, he's first in line for a throne. The," He paused, grasping for an appropriate word in English, "King? Will no doubt come himself to resolve this issue or he'll lose face with his followers. This is not good," The alien lamented shaking his head morosely.
"He'll have the biggest force with him," Serkiss clarified. "Far larger than a lesser lord would."
Shrugging, Michael thought out loud, "I would have thought that was the best-case scenario. It means when we defeat him their realm will be thrown into turmoil as his followers make a grab for power. We should have a big enough window to travel to their home worlds without worrying about them sending any other fleets towards us."
The aliens, were, stunned. Even a few of the Council looked awed. Not only were these humans supremely confident that they would beat the B'Amuf. They were already preparing a counterattack, gambling that they would be left with enough ships to pull it off. The Council's expressions remained emotionless, silently throwing their support behind Michael's reasoning.
Revarjah shivered. 'Truly a warlike race, indeed,' He thought.
They were just entering orbit around Mars when they'd concluded the meeting. Two carriers belonging to the Council of Terra's navy were waiting to take on passengers to transport to Lunar base. Michael hadn't constructed any ships of destroyer-class or larger, aside from the Intrepid, that were habitable. It was just vastly inefficient if they were going to be purely AI-controlled anyway.
The Council signed off and the delegates shuttled back to their respective ships to organize their crews. Michael asked Revarjah and Serkiss to remain behind as he had some people they might like to meet. Walking down to the recreation area with the large pond, he contacted Dejah to meet them there, saying they had a visitor that might capture her interest.
Serkiss let out an astonished gasp as she caught her first glimpse of the vast body of water. Overwhelmed, she was completely unprepared for Isaac to suddenly materialize out of the ripples before her. Michael was startled when the two began what sounded like growling at each other. He soon realized it was some form of greeting as Serkiss bowed low, exposing her neck to Isaac.
She then blushed and looked incredibly flustered when Isaac mirrored the gesture back at her. Apparently he'd just scored some major points for doing something that wasn't required of him. 'Way to go, Isaac,' Michael thought. The two immediately began babbling away in their own language and walking down the beach.
"Well... That was, odd." More than one said in unison.
Revarjah turned around as he heard steps approaching them and froze in confusion. He certainly hadn't expected to see another of his race here. Michael turned to see what had ruffled the other's fur and his eyes narrowed as he saw Dejah. There were tears in her eyes and she had a pained expression on her face.
Michael had nearly reached for his sword then and there to slay Revarjah for making one of his loved ones feel that way, when she surged forward and threw her arms around the larger Felician crying, "Papa!"
Revarjah was stricken with disbelief. Then, as the realization that his daughter lived filtered through his stunned mind, he felt a deep, heart-wrenching pain in his chest. His legs collapsed, bringing the pair to rest on the sand. All the shame and sadness he'd felt when the B'Amuf had taken her came roaring back. The fur under his eyes became damp as he relived the night his world almost ended.
He hadn't been home when they'd come, a regret he thought never to overcome. "N-no," He croaked. "They told me you were dead." For weeks afterward he'd killed and killed, trying to make the B'Amuf pay. But as the reprisals ended up costing many more Felician lives than they took, he'd had no choice but to stop.
He hadn't completely believed the B'Amuf. Why kill a hostage? They had said it was because their world had resisted, but still he bribed anyone he could manage to contact on the outside for information. He'd spent months searching for some way to defend his system, fighting a slow retreat even though it made him feel as if he was abandoning his people. But as the months had turned to years, he'd begun to resign himself to that feeling.
Oh, the doubt never really went away, but there's only so much helplessness a person can feel before they start to shy away from the subject. Revarjah buried his face in Dejah's mane, racked with sobs, rocking them both and asking over and over, "Please forgive me. My darling Dejah, please forgive me." It registered somewhere in the back of his mind that he could smell Michael on her, but that thought was lost in the storm of emotions he was feeling.
Dejah was sobbing incoherently, but unlike her father, she was starting to feel joy and happiness that they were able to reunite. Michael and Kat glanced at each other and stepped away from the kneeling pair to give them some space. He gave her shoulder a quick squeeze as he went by and felt Dejah's hand latch onto his for a moment, drawing strength.
As the couple walked down the hallway, Kat hugged his arm and whispered, "Make those bastards pay."
* * * * *
The Intrepid docked at Lunar base to take on supplies. Michael and Kat left the ship and visited the memorial that had been constructed to honour those that had fallen in the invasion. It was an incredible feat of engineering.
A large glass bubble surrounded an enormous night-themed garden, with brooks and streams running every which way that could be crossed by small, decorative wooden bridges. In the exact centre of the complex was a massive obsidian obelisk with the names of those who had died engraved upon on it.
Around the obelisk were holographic devices that could pull up a name and the viewer could read a short obituary written by their family. Many were left blank, or were linked to social accounts of the deceased when there hadn't been any surviving family members. Michael was surprised to see the amount of aliens that had come to pay their respects and the emotion he witnessed in their faces.
Sighing, and trying to will away the melancholy mood that had settled over them, the couple went to a diner and looked out towards Earth. Spying a slight smile on Michael's lips, Kat bumped his shoulder and asked, "What's up?"
"Feeling reckless," He chuckled, an idea forming in his mind. "Like we should lose the tails and go do something."
Kat's eyes sparkled with mischief. "You gonna take me out on the town?" She said, giving him an impish grin.
"Well," Michael explained, "The Intrepid isn't due in Shanghai for another couple days. I was thinking a little vacation?"
Kat perked up at that. "Where too?"
"Anywhere you want," Came the reply.
"Just us?" She questioned.
"Just us," He confirmed.
* * * * *
The two were in the cockpit of their fighter, waiting for the area to clear and the bay doors to open. It was specifically designed for the two of them. Michael had found that while he could keep up with most pilots thanks to the enhanced reflexes, Kat was a goddess in flight. She also flat out refused to be separated from him in the middle of a battle. So they had compromised... That is to say, Kat got her way.
The fighter contained an enhanced communications suite that allowed Michael to see the entirety of the battlefield and by being where the fighters were, there wouldn't be any delay in the commands given as there would if he remained on the bridge.
Each human pilot also commanded five pairs of AI-controlled drones they could use to assist them whether to fire on a target, patrol an area, or whatever the case may be. Pilots thus had to not only be aware of their own craft, but of their robotic support as well.
Kat reclined her seat and lay her head against Micheals lap as Pandora took over control of flying the machine. Relaxed the two shared nothingness with one another, speaking their minds and souls to one another as only those who know time doesn't exist between them, only love. It wasn't until Pandora's voice floated in, letting them know they were on their final approach and needed a location. Michael looked at Kat questioningly. Kat smirked, "Let's go some place with a red-light district."
Michael stared out the canopy. "Off the top of my head," He murmured dreamily, "My favourites would have to be Amsterdam, Sidney, and Bangkok."
Kat smiled. "If we're going to be there awhile, let's do Sydney. I didn't get to swim with the dolphins the last time I was there. We'll call the twins tomorrow and they can come join us." The fighter, which was invisible to radar and its black coating helped to hide it from visual detection among the night sky, slowly began its descent, taking the 'scenic route' so as not to rush its passengers.
Michael laughed and dragged the love of his life into his lap. He lifted her hips and she gripped his member, positioning it against her wetness, reavealing she'd gone commando. Just as she started her descent, the fighter dipped down suddenly and Kat had a sense of vertigo before she was slammed down hard onto his dick, impaling her like never before.
Her eyes almost crossed as she opened her mouth, but no words came out. Michael tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a moan. Kat finally managed to form words and she wheezed, "Pan, you bitch! That was-"
"Fucking awesome!" Michael finished for her, hugging her body to him. They heard a musical, disembodied laugh though the speakers.
* * * * *
"We," She panted, "Have to do that again..."
He leaned into her, rubbing her cheek with his, and murmured his agreement.
After checking into the first expensive hotel Pandora had found with an available penthouse, they went out to explore the nightlife in The Cross. Having made use of the hotel's boutique, Kat was now clad in a black cocktail dress and heels, with an emerald green choker. Michael tended not to like designer clothes, but had picked out a dark silk outfit that wouldn't be too oppressive in this heat.
Walking down the street, Michael found it oddly liberating to be 'free.' It might have been irresponsible to just take off into the wind like that, but it wasn't as if Pandora couldn't contact them if something came up. Realistically, they hadn't had to 'lose their tails' as Michael had suggested. He trusted Marcus enough to just let him know they'd be gone. The veteran hadn't been happy about it, but he knew enough to pick his battles.
Kat stopped and stared at a Thai house, mouth watering. Michael gave an amused snort and shook his head saying, "Should've gone to Bangkok."
After dinner, they went to a famed nightclub they'd heard about the last time they were here, but hadn't made the time to visit. Loud mindless noise and stray hands trying to grope Kat wasn't usually his idea of a good time, but he felt he needed a change of pace. And God-damn-it-all if his girl didn't deserve a chance to get out and swing those hips every once and awhile.
There wasn't a line and a bouncer like in those cheesy movies. There were two heavy glass doors and a small reception area. Kat got in for free and Michael paid a small cover charge and agreed to a two drink minimum. Going through another set of double doors, they went down a hallway and were instantly assailed by a thumping, throbbing beat and strobe lighting.
Looking up, they could see nude dancers inside cages hanging from the ceiling. Darkened booths lined the walls and the dance floor was right in front of them, curving around the bar area that had a DJ above it. In their college days, this would be the time when Michael went and ordered increasingly complex drinks and Kat trawled the dance area looking for open-minded, bi-curious twenty-somethings to take home with them.
Tonight, Michael stayed with Kat and just tried to keep up. All and all, they both had fun. It lasted until some particularly determined drunk tried to cut in between the couple. Michael used a knockout dart, which in hindsight, probably could have been planned better. Seeing a lively body suddenly drop on the dance floor tends to freak people out. The owners called the EMTs, which kind of killed the mood, but Michael was ready to leave by then anyway.
Kat was leaning against his shoulder giggling and semi-drunk as they both trudged towards their hotel, all the taxis having disappeared in the wee hours of the morning. The nanites could counteract the effects of alcohol, but they'd both wanted a nice buzz for the road. As they passed an alleyway, they suddenly heard a piercing scream and the shattering of a bottle.
Both Michael and Kat pivoted towards the sound smoothly, the nanites already working to purge their systems. Dashing past piles of refuse, they turned a corner and saw a greasy, obviously drunk, middle-aged man shuffling towards a girl that looked to be about twelve cowering in a doorway. A dim light swinging from a cord overhead illuminated the scene in gritty, eerie detail.
He hadn't noticed their arrival and spoke to the girl in a slurred Russian accent. "Your mother... I don't give a 'Fuck'what she wanted for you. She's not here anymooore. Now, yo- you have to work." He giggled maniacally. "You're going to spread your legs like a good little bitch." As he said 'spread' he put his hands together to mime the motion.
"And the first one you're going to spread for," He continued as he approached her menacingly, "Is ME!" As he said 'me' he lunged forwards... and came up screaming with Kat's throwing spike stuck through his palm, the almost invisibly thin wire leading back to her grasp. Michael didn't bother with his darts. He simply walked towards the girl, leaving Kat to her fun.
Kat smiled viciously as she advanced on her prey. Had he been sober enough to actually see her expression, he'd probably have shit himself. A deft whip of the wire returned the kife to her hand, matching its counterpart now spinning within her fingertips. Michael was constantly impressed with the arsenal of weapons she always managed to conceal under even the skimpiest of outfits she wore.
She slowly, methodically began the work of making hundreds, thousands of tiny cuts. The trick was to cause pain without having the victim pass out from blood loss. Michael ignored the screams and knelt to examine the girl. She'd passed out from shock or fear, though by the look of her, hunger could have been another viable option.
Taking out his tablet, which had replaced phone, PC, and every other device he'd ever need, he began scanning the girl for injuries. It fit his palm in this layout, though the chunky weight belayed its expanding properties. Sprouting a holographic display representing her body his frown deepened.
Michael saw red areas being highlighted that indicated bruising on her face, side, and inside of her right thigh. She had two cracked ribs and a dislocated shoulder. There were some burst blood vessels. She was suffering from dehydration and malnutrition.
"Kat," Michael said softly, "Please hold her." Kat emerged by his side in an instant and did as he asked. He took the girl's dislocated arm and pulled it away and up, holding it firmly and allowing it to renter the socket. He was thankful she had been unconscious for that.