Mantis rising, p.1
Mantis Rising, page 1
Contents
Cover
Chapter 1, Mary Christmas Jones
Chapter 2, History
Chapter 3, Celeste
Chapter 4, Taking Leave
Chapter 5, Narlarkic
Chapter 6, The Felix
Chapter 7, Survivors
Chapter 8, Taking a Pirate Ship
Chapter 9, Organizing the Crew
Chapter 10, Return to the Felix
Chapter 11, The Interview Process
Chapter 12, Being Captain
Chapter 13, Doctor Crawford
Chapter 14, Brother Mason
Chapter 15, The Runaway Princess
Chapter 16, Roge Balsom
Chapter 17, Koveen
Chapter 18, The Art of Walking
Chapter 19, Training Oleon
Chapter 20, Help!
Chapter 21, Betrayal
Chapter 22, Coping
Chapter 23, Confrontation
Chapter 24, Moving Forward
Chapter 25, Lord Iridim Brak
Chapter 26, Job Interview - MC Style
Chapter 27, Flipping Brak
Chapter 28, The Chase
Chapter 29, Enforcers
Chapter 30, Captured
Chapter 31, Fying Pan Meet Fire
Chapter 32, Hoping For the Best
Chapter 33, Crash Landing
Chapter 34, Safely on the Ground
Chapter 35, Dragons
Chapter 36, Karabreesh Mantis
Chapter 37, Let There Be Light
Chapter 38, Mantis Lends a Claw
Chapter 39, Alien Technology
Chapter 40, Introducing Mantis
Chapter 41, New Recruits
Chapter 42, Assimilating the Crew
Chapter 43, We Can Do This
Chapter 44, Mantis Rising
Author’s Note
Mantis: Resurrection
Books by Bob Colfax
Mantis (Book 1)
by
Robert E Colfax
Cover art by Dave Kirk
Proofreading by Dee Bullock, Rosemary Wright
Published by Robert C Kirk
Thank you
Copyright © 2022 Robert C Kirk
All rights reserved.
The use of any part of this publication reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, or stored in a retrieval system, without the prior written consent of the publisher is an infringement of the copyright law.
Chapter 1
Mary Christmas Jones
This is what my life has become. I’m all of nineteen years old and I hang out in bars, drinking alcoholic concoctions that don’t affect me in any way whatsoever. I don’t gain weight. I don’t break out in pimples. I don’t get a buzz on. At least, I enjoy the taste — usually. Some of this shit is vile. Depending on the circumstances, I might drink it anyway.
I’m as sexy as hell — at least to other humans — and I know it. I use makeup to alter, not to enhance, my appearance. That’s not vanity. I was built this way. Now, yes, I do understand that sexy is in the eye of the beholder. I also realize that, to a large extent, sexy is cultural. Some worlds favor fat women, while other worlds go for women who are thin to the point of gauntness. Breast size seems to be largely a matter of personal preference regardless of culture.
As I already said, in most of Human-occupied space, I am considered to be as sexy as hell. Don’t just take my word for it. Other bar patrons — and not just the human ones — hit on me. It happens every time. Put a dozen unattached women in a bar and who do you think the men, women, and aliens flock to first? I tend to put up with it. I can’t really get away with eviscerating them just because they’re annoying me. Not in a public place, anyway. Maybe outside in an alley. Still, not all of the bars I wind up in are adjacent to conveniently dark alleys.
It’s not always the men, either. I’ll admit to a preference for female companionship — at least long-term — but for a one-nighter, I can tolerate, and yes, frequently enjoy, a male presence. Of course, some of the people I run into are so alien that they’re neither male nor female and sometimes they’re both. That can be interesting, especially if you’re not squeamish. Trust me, squeamish is not a word that will ever be used to describe me — unless, maybe, I’m undercover at the time and playing a role.
The guy trying to buy me a drink tonight was proving to be persistent to an annoying degree. Annoying and not particularly bright. Sadly, the buildings in this section of the city butt together wall to wall, with no convenient alley in the vicinity. Sometimes, life’s a bitch.
We had already exchanged a modicum of personal information. I knew his name was Satch. I told him that mine is Kitty because, most of the time, it’s foolish to give out my real name. Satch is a troubleshooter for public transportation. I think that means he’s a mechanic who works on engines. I’m trained to kill people. That means I kill people. I told him that. Still, he sat on the stool next to me and lisped as he licked his lips. “How many, sweetie?”
My admission should have put him off, not increased his libido. How many had I killed? I’ve never counted. My feeling is that they’re dead. I doubt they’re concerned about how many others I’ve sent to the same dark location, so why should I be? There had been the five men intending to rape me, of course, when I was sixteen. Then the others — at least the ones I had recognized — who had previously used me in that fashion in my father’s compound. That brought the count up to thirteen. My father had seemed oddly pleased with me, on that occasion, rather than angry. True, I was being trained as an assassin — maybe I just blossomed early?
After my killing spree, I had been subjected for over a year to other enhancements and training, rather than rape. Yeah, that pain had been far worse than the rape. My next victims had been Celeste and her two guards. Sixteen and counting. I would never know how many people died in the nuclear blast I had been responsible for. I said, “I don’t keep count. Maybe as many as a hundred or two.”
He grinned. “Listen, baby, you’re really hot.”
Not a very imaginative pickup line. I imagine the lisp was just his accent, rather than a speech defect. Most of the people in the bar spoke with a lisp. Without looking at him, I said, “Am I?” I didn’t really intend it as a question.
“Damn right, you are, woman. I’d love to buy you another of whatever it is that you’re drinking.” Then his face lit up as though inspiration had just struck him. Have I mentioned my unbelievable peripheral vision? “Or, what say we find a private room with a bed and have some quality fun?”
Yes, this is what my life has become. I suppose I’m lucky to have a life at all. My voice no-nonsense, I asked, “Meaning?” He wasn’t picking up on the warning signs. Plus, I had already told him what I do for a living. Maybe he thought I had been kidding?
“You’re kidding right? You said you were trained as an assassin. I know that must include ways to please a man.” He grinned like an idiot. “Probably ones I’ve never heard of. So you can get him alone. I would love to be alone with you, baby.”
I grinned at him. “Oh, it did. You’re right about that. However, and don’t take this the wrong way, I’d get more of a thrill from killing you than from fucking you.” I’ve never gotten a thrill from killing.
Since he couldn’t see any right way to take that, he left. Good riddance.
My name is Mary Christmas Jones. I’m told my middle name derives from an ancient religion brought along with some of the colonists from Old Earth. Other than that, it’s just a name. I have many last names — none are the one I was born with. I disowned that name, and my father, the day he made me kill Celeste, the poor girl I had loved more than life itself.
I left his employ that same night, leaving behind a small nuclear device as a parting gift. I guess it would be appropriate to mention that it had been armed. I doubt he had enough time to really enjoy it or to appreciate its simple elegance. Honestly, blowing him up had been expedient for any number of reasons but, to my way of thinking, had been letting him off far too easily.
My father wasn’t pure evil. Yes, he was greedy — for wealth and status and the power both of those brought with them. And he was definitely cruel. I would go so far as to say he was an evil man. But pure evil is a level he hadn’t yet attained. I know. I’ve seen pure evil more than once in my life.
Celeste had left me a parting gift, as well. His account numbers. Could I have gotten them without her? No, I lacked her amazing skills. I was just educated enough to be able to use them without getting caught.
There are plenty of other greedy, cruel, evil beings in Human-occupied space. Yes, space is large enough that no single person, not even a cybernetic assassin, can realistically expect to make even a dent in the problem, but I needed a hobby. What better way to spend my time than by offing bad guys? After all, I am a cybernetically-enhanced assassin. I was designed — I was bred — to be a killing machine.
No more nukes, though. I am far more surgical now. I’m sure I took out any number of people — men, women, and children — with that nuke, most of whom were people who didn’t really deserve to be vaporized. Sometimes I feel bad about that. They may have been guilty by association, but that doesn’t really cut it for me.
Tonight, I was wasting time looking for two things. I would be happy finding either of them. One was a ship to get off of this planet because my prospects of finding the second one were limited here on Narlarkic. What I really wanted was a comput er scientist or an engineer with Celeste’s level of hacking skills. I have my own sweet little ship hidden in a cave on this world. I don’t dare use it until someone disables the programming my father had installed. I didn’t know whether my ship would actually blow up or just leave me stranded out in space somewhere. Neither was a pleasant option to contemplate. Both would result in my death. One way was just significantly faster than the other.
Barring getting my own ship — which I named the Celeste, by the way — working again, I had decided I would be happy enough taking a position on one of the many freighters that came to Narlarkic to pick up or drop off cargo. I had my feelers out. I would still need to find that engineer someday, but there was really no rush. I had people to assassinate. I’d get to it when I could.
I am MC Jones and this is my story.
Chapter 2
History
Mankind spread out into the galaxy from a largely worn-out planet named Earth. There very well could still be people living there, but no one knows today. Some worlds teach their children that the legend of Earth is just that — a legend and not a real place. On those worlds where it is accepted that Earth was more than just a legend, it was acknowledged that those who had stayed behind could have all died out by now or lapsed into savagery. The colonization effort that had sent men to the stars had had the overtones of a last-ditch effort.
The location of mankind’s homeworld had long since been lost as, indeed, have been many of her children. No one knows how many human occupied worlds exist anymore. It is likely that no one ever had. What is known is that during the dark ages, most colonies had lost their mastery of technology in the struggle survive on a new world. Many had regressed to an agrarian state or worse. Over the centuries, many had clawed their way back up into space, scrabbling toward the rediscovery of interplanetary travel. It wasn’t long afterward before they were visiting other stars.
Without the pressure to leave the homeworld and just plain to survive, the new worlds had time to explore. Some non-human civilizations were discovered and, inevitably, mistakes had been made — either intentionally or accidentally. While there were still several alien races living within the area of space dominated by humanity, they were few and far between.
Today, the most populous of the known human colonies has a head count of only nine hundred million. Eventually, many of the scattered colonies found each other. With the impetus of a growing human presence in their spiral arm of the galaxy, Daphrin Corporation, based in a binary star system on the planet Ranenia Prime, began the production of mega stations — orbital cities capable of supporting populations numbering into the hundreds of thousands.
Daphrin already owned a wildly profitable mining concern in their system’s asteroid belt. Through the construction of the mega stations, it expanded its business hugely. The cylindrical space stations proved as massively profitable as they were physically.
The first mega station was put into orbit around Ranenia Prime. That first orbiting city rapidly grew to a population of a half million. Fully a third of the station was devoted to converting the quantities of raw materials in the system’s three asteroid belts into salable products ranging from toasters to starships. The rest of the station — the sprawling residential sections aside — soon became an expensive vacation destination. It boasted varied habitats housing wild animals — both species native to Ranenia Prime and those carried on the colony ships from Earth. The next and subsequent stations were towed through interstellar space into orbits around other heavily populated worlds.
What no one knew about those mega stations, other than the Daphrin board of directors, is that they were heavily armed. The integral star drives were another closely held secret. The purpose of towing them into position was to hide that fact.
Daphrin intended to rule the interstellar community someday. It was an oddly long-term plan, bolstered by their ongoing production of large, heavily armed ships whose purpose was to enforce the peace throughout those systems where Daphrin had business interests. The ships bore the class designation of “Enforcer.” The crews, interstellar policemen, came to be known as enforcers — Daphrin’s own private police force. Daphrin’s enforcers were better armed than most system’s militaries.
No one knew who started the war with the aliens. The popular theory was that all fault lay with the Uvaloothi. Uvaloothi were a crab-like race which refused all human overtures toward communication. They came out of deep space, plundering human worlds and killing the inhabitants without provocation. The more cynical of mankind believed the Uvaloothi might have been provoked. There was evidence supporting both sides of the argument. The rumor spread that the aliens weren’t only killing most of the populations of those worlds they had conquered, but that they were eating them. There was some evidence supporting that notion, too.
At any rate, by the time the so-called Big War was over, the aliens and their oddly organic-appearing starships had retreated from what was by then being called Human-occupied space. Many backward colony worlds were gone — in most cases with few, if any, survivors. Daphrin, in a magnificent gesture, had sent not only its fleet of Enforcers, but also all six of its monster city-cum-starships into the battle. It earned them a good deal of goodwill from the general populace. The wiser citizens got to wondering about why they had foolishly allowed a foreign corporation to install such massive warships into orbit over their worlds. Of course, they hadn’t realized that that was they had allowed.
Human nature hasn’t noticeably changed since Earth had been abandoned so many ages ago. Civilization still has its forward thinkers, its villains, and its parasites. It still has its heroes — although sometimes it’s necessary to look closely to figure out that’s what they are.
Mary Christmas Jones is one to watch.
Mantis Rising
Chapter 3
Celeste
Mary’s father was both a senator in the planetary government and a crime lord with operations spanning more than one world. Mary Christmas was to be his most exquisite weapon in his quest for yet more power and wealth. Making her such had involved genetic manipulation prior to her conception. That had been followed by years of expensive and painful surgical enhancements. The paces she had been put through as part of her training had been extensive.
When she had been only a few months older than eighteen, the man she had called Father had designed a test of her loyalty. She had stood in his office, at parade rest, for forty-seven minutes while he read through documents on his desk. Fourteen men and two women, all armed with automatic weapons, lined the balconies on either side of the large room. She had noticed them the moment that she had entered the room. None of them were at parade rest. All sixteen had their weapons trained on her. One of the men was sweating. Out of the sixteen, one was scared of her — he was smarter than the others.
Damn. Does Father know? He must suspect. We almost made it. She spent those forty-seven minutes calculating how to take them all. She had no doubt that she could do it. Her best bet would be to spring up to the balcony — either side would do — and grab the weapon from the nearest person. Having a weapon, she would use that corpse as a shield while she gunned down those on the opposite balcony. She doubted anyone on the side she picked would be able to hit her when she moved at her full speed. Even if they did, she was relatively bullet-proof, whether those bullets were metal, high-density plastic, or energy packets.
From her position in the center of the room, she heard three people enter behind her. Two large men and a much smaller female, gasping occasionally as she was roughly dragged into the room. Mary’s heart dropped into her boots. She could hear all of it. While she remained with her eyes forward, she could guess who the poor woman was — who she had to be. Celeste being behind her largely negated all of her attack options. He does know!
