Emmon wiped away the moister that started to drip into his eyes from his jet-back Rillian hair drenched in sweat. His small streamlined scout ship sputtered and screeched. He attempted to push it up to its top speed until he could jump to null space. His mission would be no good if he died without reporting it. He was right! That treacherous Vandarian snake of a General was leading the Sharlakar straight to his people. This, unfortunately, meant war with Vandar.

The humongous battle destroyer opened fire once again on the tiny scout ship. He tried to evade it by spiraling down, but he was just in a lightly armed scout ship and lacked his brother Jareth’s ability at flight. The ship rocked. An energy blast clipped the side of his ship. The vessel started spinning and bucking. Emmon tried desperately to regain control. He finally managed to slow it down and straighten it out. He sped down at still too great a speed to the planet below. The ship hit the ground with a resounding boom.

Emmon moaned. He came to consciousness. Everything hurt terribly. In spite of his pain, his eyes popped wide open, and he desperately tried to untangle himself from the safety net. Ten gray drooling bloodshot-eyed Sharlakar were heading straight for him. He attempted to grab his gun but discovered his arm was broken. He desperately tried to roll out of their way, only to learn that his body betrayed him. The Sharlakar came in and started to rip up flesh.

A redheaded, freckled skinny girl burst in. To his horror, her skin peeled back, revealing a vast arsenal of weapons that were her arm and legs. The girl dropped and rolled with inhuman speed and reflexes. She went into a spin and quickly shot every Sharlakar dead in a matter of seconds. Then she ran towards him. He fought to stay conscious from the extreme loss of blood as he thought to himself, “so this is how I die.”

He jerked awake in surprise. He felt his starguard warm glow in response to another star guard. He knew the feel of the rhythm that it pulsated. He whispered in reply, “Jareth”… he gaped at the other half of his brother’s star guard that dangled from a pale freckled Vandarian female’s neck. “Not Jareth,” he heard the girl's voice say. “Jareth’s friend.”

Confused, Emmon whispered his last thought aloud as he drifted off into unconsciousness. “Then again, maybe not.”

Aleck looked over the unconscious Rillian and assessed his wounds. Under normal circumstances, he could be saved without needing cyborg parts. Unfortunately, because of the general’s cruelty, he was slated to become a Borg. She had seen General Wallock order perfectly good limbs cut off before. But given the severity of his wounds, he would die if he did not get medical attention soon. She noted the time she had left to rebel against her Borg codes. The video feed she had created would leave the general thinking she was on the battlefield. The timer on the virus was running down. She had to hurry. She paused for a second and made a difficult moral decision. Once she decided, she immediately began to move.

She dragged Emmon across the uneven desert terrain. Aleck grunted. Even with cyborg-enhanced strength, it was difficult to drag the Rillian, who was huge even for a Rillian, to the battlefield. Sweat poured down her forehead. Aleck dropped him where the cleanup crews would find him.

She sat down next to him to catch her breath for a second. She looked at him thoughtfully. She was there when the General ordered the Rillian ship shot down. What was the saying? “The enemy of my enemy is my friend." She figured if the General shot him down, he was someone who could be an ally in the rebellion against the General. She was surprised when her starguard glowed to meet his, and he said Jareth’s name. She wasn’t entirely sure who this man was, but whoever he was, the star guard meant he was part of Jareth’s family.

She looked at him. Under normal circumstances, he could be saved without needing cyborg parts.

Unfortunately, because of the general’s cruelty, he was slated to become a Borg, but given the severity of his wounds, he would not survive on his own. She had seen General Wallock order perfectly good limbs cut off so he could have an army he could control. He ordered that the reports sent to Vandar on the number of cyborgs be falsified so that they would show fewer than there were.

It was part of his big plan to have all the known worlds subjugated to him. At the rate his cyborg army was growing, he was coming close to having the army he needed to successfully take over the Rillian worlds, or so he thought. This Rillian was the last one she knew in her heart, the last main leader to convert to the cause of the rebellion.

She looked away from him as the time ran out on the virus. She ran toward the hoard of Sharlakar that was coming toward her. She hit the sand behind a dune next to a soldier, who had just breathed his last breath. The artificial skin pulled back, revealing a wicked arsenal of weapons that were her arms and legs. She looked around and grimaced. Too many men had fallen before the Sharlakar. She scanned the area and made an on-the-spot decision to help patch the General’s poorly planned raid.

She made a request to Lieutenant Colonel Mazer to lead some cyborgs on the other side of her. She hoped he would honor the request since she was just a Major. She then ran screaming into the Sharlakar troops. They paused as they saw a thing more machine than woman, with vicious-looking scars and flaming red, wildly streaming hair running forward into the battle.

The troops behind saw her and rallied to her. Soon, the Sharlakar faced a throng of enraged part-man, part-machine creatures all running towards them, screaming like they had nothing to lose. The cyborgs blasted down the center of the Sharlakar troops, which scattered and were divided neatly in two. Lieutenant Colonel Mazer’s group of cyborgs, which Aleck had contacted, surrounded the outer ranks. The Sharlakar were trapped, and they soon fell before the blaze of the cyborg weapons. The army successfully swept into the local death camp, yet their hearts were heavy at what they were about to be forced to do.

Aleck ignored the nauseating stench as she looked on grimly at the death camp and as her men went in to make sure the cleaners failed to pick up any live children for the general to get ahold of. Aleck looked at all her men. They were as grim as she was about it. The children would be murdered by the general anyway, much more slowly than the mercy killing they were forced to do now. “Patience, my people,” Aleck whispered under her breath, “we’ll be free of that monster soon enough.” The whisper went to all who carried the virus. And for a brief second, all eyes turned to her with a glint of hope before they had to return to the grizzly task at hand.

Emmon awoke on the Vandarian ship. He was confused about where he was at first. His vision was confusing, seeing blobs in the shape of objects like he had heat-sensing devices on his head. His hands went to touch his face. Only they would not move. He could not feel them. Fear began to rise as he lay there motionless and helpless.

Soon he heard a voice come through his ears; though it was obviously male and Vandarian, it had a strange metallic quality to it. “Cyborg 9903 activate.” Then to his great horror, he found his body moving against his will. The fact that he had none of his arms or legs hit him. He was a puppet on a string, unable to control his actions.

He tried to speak, but he didn’t even have command of his voice. “The conditioners are coming soon. You’re a cyborg slave now. Whatever you do, do not disobey them, or they will use your cyborg codes to force your body to do horrible things. I will give you use of your voice now. Do not scream and understand I am a slave as well.”

“What kind of horrible things?”

“When I disobeyed, they forced me to torture the patient I was supposed to save slowly. I watched them use my body to do it. I’m going to slowly give you control of your body so you can get used to your new limbs.”

The medic left him seething while he struggled to figure out how to work his new limbs. He felt his starguard warm against his skin. He looked up to see the heat blob in the shape of a small Vandarian heading toward him; his vision cleared to a fuzzy picture of the girl he had seen earlier. He heard a woman’s voice whisper “the impossible dream” in his ear.

He gasped as the virus took hold and listened as she explained the situation on the ship. He let his anger cool. He needed a straight head, and letting emotions run him was not a wise strategy ever. He turned his rage into a cold, calculating vengeance for the monster who had done this to him. The girl was just trying to help in a dark place. She did not deserve his wrath. “The problem is greater than you know. The general is deliberately opening up Rillian worlds for Sharlakar's attack. Then he goes in and converts all he “rescues” into Borgs he can control. My people will go to war with Vandar over this.”

The girl named Aleck thoughtfully and sadly answered him. “We plan to overthrow him and stop him as soon as the virus stays long enough for a successful takeover. Is there any way we can prevent the Rillians from going to war?”

Emmon shook his head sadly as he experimentally flexed an arm. “ Only one way. If one of sufficient rank takes up a blood debt for the General’s crimes and agrees to clean up and fix the mess he has created.” He doubted any Vandarian would be willing to pay the price for the debt. Aleck nodded in response. She knew his time with the virus would be up soon. She would have to make plans to divert this war later.

“Okay, we’ll talk later.” She leaned over and whispered “Yaza” over the starguard necklace, making it disappear. He touched both and whispered another word so they wouldn’t glow when they came near. She then left. The conditioning doctors approached. Their job was to teach the newbies how useless it was to resist the cyborg codes. The cruelties they came up for this were terrible and monstrous. Aleck hung her head for all the new cyborgs in sorrow. Then walked out silently, promising them they would be free soon enough.

Emmon found himself hurling in the toilet over the atrocities the monsters used his Borg codes to force his body to do. It was his body out of his control and in theirs. They were the ones doing it. They were guilty of the crimes, and they would soon pay for those crimes.

He stopped vomiting and got himself under control. Tonight, every Borg on the ship would be completely free of the Borg codes. Freeing up the programmer was genius on Aleck’s part. He’d found a way to erase the Borg codes of every cyborg within 100 parsecs in such a way that they could never be used to control them again. The central net was going to be their downfall. Emmon smiled as he made his way to Aleck’s quarters. At last, he would have that slimy general’s throat in his hands.

Emmon nodded to the Colonel, to Markus, to Aleck, and the Voltan programmer. The five made their way to the General's quarters, whose walls were filled with porn of the worst kind deemed illegal by all races. The Colonel quickly burned them off before Aleck stepped into the room. The cruelty in the pictures was enough to make any semi-decent being stomach turn.

They entered swiftly and quietly. The general lay snoring loudly. Emmon yanked the General out of his bed by the shirt collar, and the General came abruptly awake. All of them laughed coldly. The general screamed, cussed, and futilely tried to activate the cyborg codes to control them. “Sargent, reprogram the ship,” Aleck ordered. The Voltan stared with a certain amount of glee at the General’s fear. He made a face at him and turned to the central control computer in the general's room.

The Colonel turned to Aleck. “Go to the main com room and announce to the ship were free of the General’s command. Order the ones set in place to kill the conditioner doctors and anyone else who willingly participated in the General’s crimes. Also, ask the ship members to send up names of who they want to be elected General for the new command by twenty hundred hours. We’ll deal with the General.”

Aleck started to protest. She wanted to be there to see that monster get the punishment he well deserved. “But…”

Colonel Mires cut her off with a firm shake of his head no. “I risked everything to protect you and your innocence. I also promised your mother and father I’d take care of you. You do not need to see what we’re going to do to him. It will be much worse than you think.”

Aleck turned her eyes to the others to see if they agreed. “Jareth would not approve. The necklace sets you under our family protection. I agree with Colonel Mires. This is not something for a young lady to see. Even a war-hardened one such as yourself.”

She turned her eyes on Markus. ”It will be worse than you think, Aleck. I know much has been taken by the war from you, child, but agree with them I do. This one you should not see.” He said with a caring arm on her shoulder, ‘’but one that will eventually be made known so monsters like him will think twice before committing the crimes he did.’’

“Fine,” she said with a hiss, irritated at all of them for ganging up on her. “I’ll do the announcements. While you deal with the son of a…” Colonel Mires glared at her as she cut the sentence short. She knew he disapproved of her using some of the language she picked up from the soldiers. ‘’But he is one.”

The three went in and read the charges against the general. “So tell me, General, have you ever heard of a race called the Conaora. The general turned dead white. Making the punishment fit the crime was an art for them. Their world was almost crimeless for fear of the consequences. Soon he was bound, gasping and gagging in terrible pain as they threw him in a ship bound for the nearest known Sharlakar fleet. “Bon Appetit,” the colonel said as it made its way to the Sharlakar.” He’d make a good meal for the Sharlakar if he didn’t die from shock first.

Soon it was twenty hundred hours, and the group gathered around the rather dusky and dusty com room area to see who the new general nominees were. Everyone’s eyes popped, and Aleck gasped as only one name steadily appeared. All but two people voted Aleck to be the new high general of the Borg. Aleck hit the announcement button and said in choked tones. “I think there’s been a glitch. Could we have that vote sent again?” Once again, the numbers were the same.

Colonel Mires grinned with pride. Aleck was like a daughter to him. Her intelligence, bravery, and kindness had obviously had an impact on the people. “No, glitch, Aleck, you’re the new high general.”

Aleck got a sickly grin on her face. “Ah ha ha. There's just one problem with that. I don’t want to be the high General.” She said through her teeth. Then she blushed brightly as she realized she had forgotten to turn off the intercom system.

The message board lit up, and one voice broke through loud and clear “This is Lieutenant Colonel Mazer. You’ve been chosen, and you’re are our high General Sir. We will have no one else. There is no one else who is Vandarian that is good at tactics that we can completely trust. So you’re stuck with it, and us, like it or not.”

Markus got a mischievous grin on his face. In all his experience, he had never seen the like. “So this is how Vandarian democracy works.” He chuckled as Aleck sulked and pouted.

The colonel rolled his eyes, “Not exactly, Marcus; normally, even an elected ruler would demand people follow and obey their rule. This is the first case I’ve ever heard of that the people demanded the ruler to rule them. Well, High General, what’s next?”

Aleck winced at her new title. She knew what they had to do next. She closed her eyes in dread. She was free of the general only now to have to personally enslave herself to the Rillians. “We go to the high Rillian counsel so I can accept a blood debt to prevent a war with Vandar. So any ideas on how to contact the High Rillian counsel?”

Emmon looked at her in surprise. Jareth never told her who he was? Interesting. He had seen enough photos to know the friendship they shared. Emmon frowned deeply. Did she know what she was getting into with the blood debt? “I think I can get you in.” Emmon carefully chose not to reveal his position as of yet. “Are you sure you want to do this? The crimes were not yours. And a blood debt holds a terribly high price if you fail to redeem the crime.”

“I know the price. The crimes are not mine, nor are they the innocent people of Vandar. I have no love for the government of Vandar or its programs. But people like my aunt, my uncle, and my friends did not ask for this. Yet they would be the ones to pay in a war. I’ll take the blood debt to prevent war for their sake, for their freedom, even if it means giving up any hope of having freedom myself.”

She did indeed understand the price of a blood debt. He was beginning to see what his brother saw in this Vandarian girl. (For he must have thought much of her to give her the Starguard, to start with)

Emmon sighed sadly. “To the bridge High General and announce our next destination. I do have access to the High Council. Also, I will send a message ahead, so the Government doesn’t freak when a load of warships shows up to the Rillian homeworld.”

Emmon sent the message to his brother Zane that they were coming. He then followed Aleck to the bridge. It held a certain gloominess along with the rest of the ship. Much was in disrepair or just plain dirty. She went and sat in the captain’s chair, which was ripped. She gave her first order. “Ensign, set the jumps to head at top speed to the Rillian home world.”

“Yes, sir,” the ensign said with glee.

Then she gave her second order. “I want whoever is in charge of general maintenance up here to discuss repairing this ship and who is ever the head of the Janitorial crews to have a plan for cleaning this dump. “

She thought of her aunt back home, always making little touches to the house to make it warm and welcoming, as if it reflected part of her soul. These vessels reflected the master they had before. Well, there was a new master in charge now. While they were war vessels and Aleck would never dream of frou frouing them up. They certainly could be made to look more honorable and dignified than they were.

The cyborg ships hopped through null space from system to system in a direct route toward the Rillian homeworld. All systems were clear until the third jump landed them in a Sharlakar-infested area. Aleck ran to the deck and stared grimly at the dots that lingered before her. She ordered up the three de program that showed the scanned ships' position. They were in a floating holographic sphere in front of her face. She soon moved her arms at blinding speeds to calculate where her ships needed to hit. It was almost perfect, but not quite. She sent the plans to every pilot. Soon space was blazing with energy beams.

She left the brig and the sky fight to those in the Navy part of her command who knew their business. She prepared her army to land and invade. She made another plan. This one was much closer to perfection than her naval one. It would quickly free the world before her. The shuttle bay was packed with soldiers, eagerly, for once, loading into ships. She got battle gear on and strapped up into the force shuttle that sped past upcoming planet missiles to the ground below. This time all who could be saved would be saved.

Aleck double-checked with the other leaders on the other shuttles before they hit the ground. Emmon and Markus found themselves shaking their heads in the other shuttles. The woman was indeed a brilliant strategist. The Vandarian soldiers had chosen their new leader well.

The shuttles hit down swiftly, with Aleck in the lead of a massive cyborg army that boiled out of the shuttles shooting. Zip missiles blazed out of her palm and out of the palm of all the other leaders. The Sharlakar’s main armory blew up with an incredible plethora of lights. The cyborg force moved forward with a fantastic organization that the old General didn’t even come close to matching. They hit the targets faster and won them with greater efficiency.

In a week, they had freed a world. The cyborgs’ hearts soared, and they were more thrilled than ever with their choice of leadership. They raided the death camps with lightning strikes. Twice as many were saved even without counting the children they were forced to execute before.

Aleck ran in guns blazing to the very last camp. She shot a Sharlakar just as he was about to shove an infant into his maw. She dived and caught the newborn before it hit the floor. She heard the grateful cries of the limbless mother who had just given birth to her child.

Aleck realized she had a problem. She needed to find a way to label mother and child so the medics would not separate them when they came through. One of her men took off his shirt and wrapped the baby in it. I’ll stay with them till the medics can come, sir.” Aleck nodded gratefully as she moved to another room. Soon the last of the death camps were cleared, and the soldiers returned to the ship.

Emmon shook his head with admiration. He watched Aleck sink wearily into the leader's chair on the main deck. She started to receive reports about the invasion. The plan for the space battle was near perfect, though, in his time, he had seen only one better at battle planning, and that was Jareth. On the ground, she was the best he’d seen. The only one who came close to seconding her was himself (of course, he was a high prince educated in the best of military schools. This girl was just naturally brilliant and forced into it by a brutal war). She took the reports with a sigh. “Still too many losses.” She whispered.

She soon received an urgent message from the medics. “Sir, we got a load of children, elderly, and disabled here, sir. What do we do with them?”

“What did we do with them before?”

“We killed them, sir, or sent them back to die on a planet to war-torn to support life.”

Aleck swallowed. “Sorry, I guess that was a stupid question. I know that.” She thrummed her fingers on her repaired captain’s chair, thinking. “I’ll contact you in a bit. Let me find some things out.” She hit the button to disconnect the com with the medics and asked her information specialist, “Were any of the luxury transports for space travel saved below?”

He tapped on some keys. “Yes, sir. Three are in working order.”

Aleck sat back thoughtfully, then she placed her hand on the computer/cyborg connect switch and quickly scanned through a list of names on the computer until she found what she was looking for. She switched on the multi-ship communication. “Major Linda Rameris and Private Matt Smith, please report to me on the main bridge.”

Soon, the two stood before her, saluting in respect and looking a touch nervous. “Yes, sir,” they both said with curiosity.

Aleck pushed a strand of sweat-drenched hair from her face. “Major Rameris, you were governor at one time of one of the outer worlds, I believe.” It was a statement, not a question. Major Rameris nodded hesitantly.

“I see you ran it effectively for years before the invasion and the general. You also stated several times during your election that you truly loved serving the people. Was that true?”

“Yes, sir, I enjoyed very much what I did.” Major Rameris said with curiosity in her voice.

“Good because I need you to serve again. I need you to organize and turn three transports into civilian-class ships. Take care of any needs that arise there,” said Aleck.

“Thank you very much, sir.” Said Major Rameriz, who now had an almost happy look of excitement on her face.

Aleck then turned to the man whose hair was just starting to recede and gray. “Private Smith, I see you had run an orphanage as a minister with your wife. I am sorry about the loss of your wife. I see here in an old news report on the orphanage that you two enjoyed taking in children who had no parents of their own. We have a ton of orphans who need to be taken care of. Do you feel you can do this, or will it be too much a reminder of your wife?”

“Sir, we both loved children, and this would be a grand way to remember her. I’d be thrilled and honored to help the children, sir.” Said, Private Smith

Aleck thrummed her chair as she thought of something else. She scanned again. “Sergeant Mario Garcia, please report to the main bridge.”

Soon, a short bald man with broad shoulders joined them and saluted with great respect to Aleck, who nodded at him. “Sergeant, you are noted for getting supplies effectively when that has been needed in the past. I want you to supply these two with anything they may need”.

“Smith, you need a higher rank to suit your position. You are now a lieutenant. Lieutenant Smith and Major Rameris, feel free to call on any men you need to help you run the civilian ships or orphanages. Any questions?”

“No, sir,” they answered as they saluted and went to their jobs with gusto. Soon, they had the civilian population organized and moved on toward the Rillian’s home world.