2953-10-01 – Tales from the Inbox: Kel’s Contribution 

The Blade Dancer, though produced in some numbers and shown off in many corporate press releases, has not made its combat debut, at least, not in public announcements. If its practical performance is anything like what Sovereign claims on paper, it may change the small craft warfare environment in this war considerably, assuming they can build enough of them. 

Kel hushed Sadek’s concerns before he could voice them, then keyed his comm. “Cour-de-Lion, we have been docked some minutes. Is there some difficulty?" 

Sadek could hear the clipped-tone response easily because the human-made earpiece did not fit well into his alien ear canal. “No difficulty, Traveler. Commander Daseta is en route to the airlock.” 

“Oh. I have not yet met this Daseta.” Kel made a hoarse, chirping noise. “Captain Lemont is otherwise occupied?” 

There was no response, at least not one Sadek could hear. He winced, then cleared his throat. “Something wrong, Boss?” 

“Oh... probably not.” Kel waved one three-fingered hand. “When I last spoke to my friend Lemont, he told me he was expecting a new command. I’d assumed this was his ship, and that he’d come down to see all I’ve been able to do with his help.” 

“I don’t think people who work for Sovereign are allowed to have friends.” Elliott Deadman shook his head. “They’re cutthroats, Boss. One of their top execs is literally a pirate who thought mercenary work would make more money. Probably right about it, too.” 

“Nonsense.” Kel made a throaty sound that was his best approximation of a chuckle. “They are professionals. They do business. They would hardly earn an official contract with your government otherwise.” 

The three human members of the crew exchanged a few nervous glances. Wherever Kel had gotten this vast confidence in the above-board nature of the Confederated government and military, it would be hard to cure him of it – if they got a chance. It was entirely possible Sovereign had arrived to throw Traveler‘s crew in a brig and put their own crew in charge of Traveler to suit their own business needs. They probably wouldn’t put four civilian spacers out an airlock outright, but only because covering it up while keeping the ship would be too expensive. 

A clanking sound like someone knocking on the airlock from the other side prevented the horrified silence from growing too long. Kel excitedly jabbed at a control on his wrist, and a moment later the airlock irised open. 

Cool, slightly higher pressure air from Cour de Lion billowed out around the lone black-clad figure standing in the short umbilical walkway, causing her wispy white hair to swirl around her face and shoulders like clouds around the summit of a mountain. Undeterred, the woman stepped across the threshold, her shiny boots clicking loudly on Traveler’s deck plating. With her left hand pushing the hair out of her eyes, she raised the other in a crisp salute. To Sadek’s surprise, that hand was blood-red, and the fingers slightly too long to be human. He’d never met an Atro’me before, but he knew immediately this was one. 

“Captain Kel.” The woman succeeded in pushing the bulk of her white hair out of her face, revealing piercing yellow eyes and features that were almost human, and distressingly beautiful. “I am glad to meet you at last. I have heard so much about you and your ship.”  

Sadek couldn’t help but stare. He’d heard of Atro’me going under the knife to appear more appealing to humans, but he’d never imagined such alterations could be so successful as this.  

Next to him, Deadman made a quiet noise, as if he’d almost spoken up but thought better of it at the last moment. 

Kel, barely humanoid as he was, was unfazed. Perhaps he didn’t even realize that she wasn’t human, or perhaps he didn’t care. “I presume you are Commander Daseta? You have some advantage over me, because I have heard nothing about you.” 

“Anazj-Haare Daseta.” The woman stepped forward and lowered her saluting hand in an offered handshake to Kel. As she did, her eyes flicked over the xeno’s shoulder and momentarily met Sadek’s. There was intent in the set of those vertical-slit pupils, but he couldn’t begin to guess what it was. “Captain Lemont sends his compliments, but corporate has assigned me to handle this matter going forward.” 

“What matter?” Kel took Daseta’s hand in his clawed fingers and shook it gently. “Is there some trouble?” 

“I will explain.” Daseta gestured into Traveler. “But we need not stand and talk here. I understand this ship has a lounge?” 

“Of course.” Kel nodded, his head bobbling at the end of his long, arched neck. “This way.” 

Sadek’s sense of danger had not been allayed by the mercenaries only sending one officer to talk with them, and that one obviously no physical threat. Daseta was a perfect distraction in case Sovereign meant to pull tricks, because the eye was so easily drawn to her. The alterations were more than her face – Sadek knew that Atro'me had quite different skeletal structure and musculature from humans, making it impossible for their females to have the curves of a healthy human woman. Even though her uniform was not cut to accentuate it, it was obvious Daseta had gotten this, too, altered. 

Idly, Sadek wondered what the surgeons had done with her chest. Atro’me, being loosely analogous to Earth’s avians or reptilians, lacked mammary tissue, but Daseta certainly had more than pectoral muscles underneath that uniform. Was that extra weight really worth carrying around everywhere? How much of her was a natural organism? Despite being unable to keep his eyes off her for long, he shuddered. A human who’d had that much work done would disgust him, but this was not a human, and it didn’t seem right to apply the same standard. Especially if the result was so easy on the eyes. 

A minute later, Kel had led Daseta and his little crew into the lounge. There was of course plenty of seating around the central holo-projector which got most of its use hosting strategy game contests between Deadman and Powers. Sadek and Kel had tried their hand at these games a few times, but the rules had proved far too complex to pick up easily. 

Daseta gestured for the crew to be seated, and waited with her hands folded behind her back until they were all comfortable. “Now, Captain Kel. It has-” 

“Please, just Kel.” Kel interrupted. 

Daseta smiled at him, as if to conceal annoyance at the interruption. “As you please. It has come to the attention of my superiors that your people have agreed to sell strike-scale hull systems to Confederated interests. Sovereign would like to become a partner in this business venture.” 

“Partner?” Alicia Powers raised one hand. “You mean, help us move and sell Iataran hulls?” 

“You are.” Daseta shook her head, and that wispy cloud of hair once again started floating in front of her face. “Sovereign would like to be the exclusive buyer, starting immediately with what you have in the hold right now.” 

“Exclusive buyer?” Kel made a strange noise in his throat. “You wish to be the distributor?” 

“No, of course not.” Daseta tossed her head. “We wouldn’t sell a single one.” She gestured to the projector in the floor. “May I?” 

Kel released the device to her control with a tap on his wrist. Daseta extended the screen on her wristcuff and flicked a symbol toward the projector. It came to life, displaying a familiar spacecraft schematic. 

“This is the Confederated Navy Puma.” Daseta gestured to the hologram. “Fast, powerful, agile. A proven design. Sovereign and other mercenaries can’t get them, not even for war purposes.” Daseta flicked the screen again, and a slightly smaller, sleeker craft replaced the Puma. “We buy cometing platforms like the Savitri Cutlass, but they just don’t have the same performance.” 

Another flick on her wrist screen exploded the craft on the display into a thousand component parts. “We have a license to build most of these parts. Why shouldn’t we put them together into a new package?” The components started coming back together in a new configuration. A few new ones, highlighted in bright green, appeared, and a few vanished into haze at the edge of the display. “The moment Captain Lamont sent his report about this ship up the chain, our engineers started working out what we could do with something like it.” 

The parts came together into a flattened ellipsoid shape, and a translucent shell surrounded them. The diagram was without labels, of course, but Sadek could tell just by looking at it that this was something highly unorthodox. Strike craft just didn’t look like that.  

“We call it the Blade Dancer.” Daseta smiled. “And with your help, it will give Sovereign a strike rig that will make the Puma obsolete.”