The Alienbutt Saga, Book 1. War of the Coffee Bean. Part 33.

Captain Noble had heard the report with disgust; she had seen the official news reports of the invasion of the Ick Empire and also seen the broadcasts by the Ick that the Federation was working hard to block. Those reports showed the mass extermination of the populations of the invaded Ick planets, robot troops firing on civilians. Now all bounty hunters were ordered by the Federation to take up positions along the Ick border with the asteroid belt of Ashia Minor to prevent Ick refugees from escaping the advancing robot army of the Federation, or they would be classed as traitors to the Federation. All fleeing Ick peoples were to be rounded up and placed in camps awaiting processing to find the traitors.

All registered bounty hunters in the Outer Systems had been recalled to the giant space station that was the headquarters of the law enforcement out there. Some of the hunters were new blood who would do any task for the right price, but there were still many of the old school, those who had fought alongside the Ick or just held to principles about not involving civilians in business. She could feel the unrest as the orders were given out, and knew that within the hour she would be contacted by many who would feel as she did. The Ick were being set up and wiped out despite what was said on the news channels. The Federation was trying to hide the facts behind a smoke screen of scare stories about coffee production sabotage.

Duke Ramboe had been commander of the bounty hunter operation in the Outer Systems for almost twenty years. Before that, he had been one of the hunters. He was a huge figure who towered over everyone; no one was sure to which species he belonged, but at over seven feet tall and built like a small mountain, he kept order over the bounty hunters by commanding respect and by brute force on the very odd occasion that it was needed. He had read out the orders from the Federation, delivered to him by a very nervous officer in the uniform of the new Federal Navy. He could feel the unrest building from his hunters. Unlike the hunters from the central systems who never got to chase anything worse than someone who wouldn’t pay their taxes, those of the Outer System were independent and fiercely loyal to each other. The Ick had always given the hunters aid over the years as they chased down pirate gangs and other violent individuals. Although the Ick couldn’t hold a bounty hunter licence as they were not part of the Federation, they were seen as part of the family by the bounty hunters. For the Federation to prevent the Ick people from escaping a war zone that was wiping them out, just went to show how little those who ran the Federation knew or cared about the Outer Systems. Over three hundred hunters were gathered aboard the station so far and they had been given two hours to sign up for this mission.
Upon Duke Ramboe’s return to his office, he ordered his ship prepped for flight and sent a message for Captain Noble and Jack Lantern to come see him. As two of the more experienced hunters he would be able to confirm his feel for the mood and which way most would lean if asked. Looking out of his view screen, he saw the six battle cruisers of the Federal Navy sitting off from the space station. Studying the ships, he noted the design and shape. You could see the influence of the Ick dreadnought in their design but these were larger and reportedly packed a lot more fire power, but still they had that Ick look to them. He had heard rumours that the Ick were building a replacement for the dreadnought and he wondered if they would have been much like these Federal battle cruisers.
A new order had just been created in the universe. The Federation, set up thousands of years before to foster trade and peace through mutual respect and co-operation, had now turned to the use of force and threats to protect the very thing that was causing the problem. The universal addiction to coffee had made everyone a slave to the Coffee Houses and the crop they produced, and now even the Federation Senate had fallen to their plans and plots. Duke Ramboe may have been sitting on a space station light years from the Inner Systems and their politics, but he had a network of friends and agents to rival any intelligence service. He knew who would support the Coffee Houses, wanting to increase their own power, and who, if they could create the right conditions, would support the old order and work to bring about a return of that order. He had read the Book of Ick and the one followed by the other side and knew that everything depended on a dead Ick leader and the last of the Alienbutts finding a cure to the coffee bean addiction. If information was power, then he was one of the most powerful people in the known universe and he now had to convince his hunters to risk their lives for a plan that he wasn’t sure would work.

More than half the Empire had been overrun within a few days. The High Council had either been captured or killed when the Ick home world had been attacked within hours of the naval central command falling. As the empire’s population got aboard anything that would fly to escape the approaching fleets of the Federal Navies, Snoodgrass planned the defence of what was left of the empire. Alienbutt had again proved why Wickede had placed so much faith in him, showing how to cancel out the battle cruisers’ superior fire power, and he now worked with Commander Grommit on working out battle tactics.
The surviving Ick Navy had started to slow down the advance of the invasion and in a number of small skirmishes had made the advancing battle cruisers retreat. Without realising it, Alienbutt had become a commander of the Ick forces. Leading raiding forces to protect civilian fleets that were fleeing, or by just being a badly-dressed drunken oaf, he lifted the spirits of the Ick forces. The Ick began to tell and retell stories of his exploits which expanded with every telling. Many called for him to be made a Defender of the Empire, an honour not bestowed in over four hundred years, and never to a non Ick. Yet Snoodgrass noticed a change in Alienbutt’s manner. He was more business-like and cold; there was an edge to him now that he hoped he would never see. In front of everyone he acted like Alienbutt, the funny drunken bounty hunter they had come to know, but he saw the worried glances from Killashandra. But with so much else to worry about, he didn’t have time to speak to his friend. He would have to hope that Alienbutt had the strength of character to ride the wave and not be swamped by the dark events happening.

So far Snoodgrass had held the Fo’c’sle in reserve, knowing he would need them as it was only a matter of time before the two forces would meet again in a large battle. Transferred from the dreadnoughts to the more agile frigates that Alienbutt flew, he had also had Grommit choose their best fifty fighter pilots to be trained to fly those ships. He had now split the Fo’c’sle into three squadrons under the command of Grommit, Cyborgpirate and Killashandra. A fourth squadron of the frigates would be commanded by Alienbutt with crews from the Ick Navy. From the reports that he was receiving, he knew the enemy was massing a fleet of over three thousand of their battle cruisers, ready for a final attack on the Ick. They would be heavily outnumbered, having less than a thousand dreadnoughts and just the four squadrons of frigates, but he had a number of new experimental weapons that he hoped would give them an edge.
A priest in an orange cassock from the Order of Ick walked into his office. Snoodgrass looked over hopefully but the priest shook his head.
“The book is revealing nothing. We have found a passage telling of the loss of Wickede, it is now in plain sight and obvious, but it will reveal nothing more. It is often thought by those who study the Book that it only reveals its secrets at the appointed time.”
“You speak as if the Book is alive and conscious of events that are happening to us,” said Snoodgrass in disgust. He knew the theory the priest spoke of, but had hoped for just a hint he was on the right track.
“That has been said many times before, Snoodgrass, the Book is a guide. It will point us in the right direction at times and confirm decisions made, but it will not tell us what to do. The Omniverse does not work in such a manner.”
“So when we need an edge, the Book has decided to keep quiet,” said Snoodgrass, slumping back in his chair, rubbing his tired eyes. It had been a few days since he had last slept for even a couple of hours and his usually sharp mind was starting to get fuzzy as the weight of responsibility bore down on him.
“You need some sleep, and I don’t need the Book to tell me that. What good will you be to your people if you collapse from exhaustion?” Alienbutt said from the doorway.
Neither the priest nor Snoodgrass had noticed him arrive. He walked over to a chair and sat down, placing an unopened bottle of whiskey on the table. He still wore his ridiculous lucky boots and Blackarachnia’s coat but now had found a bejewelled codpiece that would be blinding if you shined a light onto it. The leather kilt had been replaced by deep purple velvet leggings and a chain mail vest dyed black. To anyone who didn’t know him when he had left Sloppystool with Blackarachnia, his outlandish dress sense was just part of him. To Snoodgrass and the others he still looked comical. “Admiral Frederick just sent a message; he lost most of his command but is hoping to break through the blockade surrounding the empire's space by going through Ashia Minor,” said Snoodgrass, accepting a drink offered by Alienbutt. “When he arrives he can help take some of the weight off my shoulders, until then I don't have time to sleep.”

To be continued.

Thanks for reading, all images are mine.