Chapter 3: Precious Cargo

"Something's wrong! Something is really, really wrong!" A young Z'uush cried as it nervously paced back and forth.

"By the Creators, Sk'shal, you need to calm down. You are going to have an evacuation of your bowels." T'sunk'al said as he lounged on a large shipping crate sipping on a juice box. "She will be here."

"She is late."

"She is less than one hour late. We are traveling unimaginably vast distances with the intent of intersecting our paths on this desolate dustball of a planet at this precise moment in the entirety of time. If you think about it in a cosmic sense, the fact that it is possible at all is truly mind-blowing."

"What exactly is in that juice box?" Sk'shal asked dubiously.

T'sunk'al just laughed at him.

Sk'shal fidgeted uneasily. They warned him that T'sunk'al was insane. He thought it to be an exaggeration since T'sunk'al seemed so calm and personable, but the fact that he was still so calm and personable was proof positive that everyone was right.

"Sk'shal, I was nervous as the twelve hells the first few times I did this. In fact, I hiccupped and shat the whole way. It gets easier. We have had to run the blockades for weapons and now have to for even more important reasons."

He casually pointed with one of his secondary manipulators towards the ship.

"At least put on a brave facade for the passengers. We are courageous freedom fighters, and it wouldn't do for one of us to literally poop their pants."

"You pooped your pants."

"Only a little bit, and that is because I knew exactly how close we were to blowing up. That cloaking device that human-friend Johnny provided isn't exactly the most stable. We had a minute left at the most. I envy the humans. They pucker where we squeeze."

"WE HAD LESS THAN A MINUTE LEFT!?!?!"

"Shh… passengers..."

"WHAT… what would you have done if we hadn't cleared the blockade in time?"

T'sunk'al shrugged.

"I would have uncloaked, surrendered, and spent the rest of my life in a forced labor facility. I would normally say that I would uncloak and make a run for it but not with refugees on board. My ass becoming one with the universe I can accept, but I am not willing to take them along."

"You would take me along?" Sk'shal asked in disbelief.

"Yep. You signed up for this shit… freedom fighter… liberty or death, right?"

"I… I gotta go..." Sk'shal rapidly sprinted behind the ship.

T'sunk'al laughed and yelled after him, "Stay clear of the viewing ports!"

***

The Paper Tiger eased into orbit. Sheila scanned for terrestrial objects. She couldn't find them at first, but T. had picked a good spot. She smiled. T. was getting good at this.

"Paper Tiger to Hermit Crab… You ready, T.?"

"Ready to go," T'sunk'al replied and then turned to Sk'shal.

"See? Everything's cool. Let's start offloading the goodies."

They both entered their vessel and started transferring pallet after pallet of white powder.

"What is this all this stuff anyway?" Sk'shal asked.

"Methamphetamine."

"What's methamphetamine?"

"A dangerously addictive street drug that is popular with humans. It's a lot like slaver's dust but much more pleasurable from what I understand."

Sk'shal recoiled in shock.

"We are making slaver's dust?!?" he squeal-buzzed with dismay.

"Yes and no. It is addictive as slaver's dust but almost never forced on the victim. They take it voluntarily."

"That's insane!"

"Well, we are discussing humans."

"Regardless, this is still wrong!"

T'sunk'al laid an appendage on Sk'shal's carapace.

"Do you want the guns or not?" he asked his young copilot. "Do you want the refugees transported to Terran space or not? Everything has a price, and this is the price. I also understand that there will be chocolate. C'mon. We still have a lot of this to offload."

Sk'shal held his head in his manipulators and hiccuped. This was not what he envisioned at all. There was no glory. There was no nobility. There was nothing but constant worry and moral ambiguity. Fear he was prepared for. Combat he was prepared for. What he was not prepared for was suddenly becoming a drug dealer.

Sheila landed the Paper Tiger next to T'sunk'al's vessel, kicking up a cloud of dust. T'sunk'al held a rag over his breathing orifice and stepped forward to greet her. Shortly thereafter, Sheila and six other armed humans debarked and advanced. Sk'shal watched in confusion as T'sunk'al strode forward and engaged in an odd, somewhat complicated hand slapping ritual with the lead human. T'sunk'al motioned for Sk'shal to approach.

"Sheila, this is my new friend S. S, this is human-friend Sheila. She is a very good friend to us."

Sheila smiled, displaying her disturbingly omnivorous teeth.

"It's great to meet you, S." She looked over at T'sunk'al. "Is he your replacement when you inevitably become one with the Creators… Or lose even more of your eyes?"

"Meh, that is why the Creators blessed us with twelve."

He gestured over at the pallets.

"It is fortunate that we have so much refining equipment sitting idle due to the conflict," he clicked. "I trust it will meet your standards?"

Sheila flashed those disturbing teeth again and approached the cargo with a scanner.

"Damn, T. You and I should go into business after your war," she said approvingly as she looked at the screen. They may look funny, but those Z'uush could churn out the crystal meth like nobody's business.

"That is a most interesting prospect. Who would suspect a nervous little Z'uush hauling a shipload of contraband?" T'sunk'al chuckled.

"I think you guys have dispelled that nervous little Z'uush stereotype. I honestly didn't think you guys would last a month. How is it going anyhow? All I get is Federation propaganda."

"Like shit. It's a stalemate. We are neither advancing nor are we retreating. We are just dying."

Sheila placed a hand on T'sunk'al's carapace and nodded.

"Yep. Sounds like war. Just don't get too used to it." She said sadly. Moments later, she perked right back up. "On a more cheerful note… We have a nice delivery for you. Everything you asked for plus some presents for our increasingly valuable friends. 10,000 more AK's, All the ammo you requested, and we were able to get our hands on the mark fifteen armor-piercing rounds, which you will absolutely love. Goes through rigid combat armor like a knife through butter or whatever soft spread you guys have. We couldn't get the mark seven nukes you guys like, but we did get some mark fives, so we threw in another four. That ok?"

"That's more than ok." Sheila then grinned and did a little happy dance.

"That's not the best part. It gets better!" She grabbed a case off one of the pallets that her associates were unloading and threw it open. "Liberators!"

"Liberators?"

"Completely polymer firearms. No metal, unconventional propellant, advanced polymer armor-piercing slugs… Virtually undetectable. They are made by Terran intelligence and fucking hard to get, but for you guys, I made it happen 'cause I like you. Ooo! I almost forgot! I got you a present!"

She ran into the ship and came out with a gun case.

"This is a twelve gauge pump shotgun!" Sheila exclaimed proudly. "Not even chemical, totally mechanically operated, and this puppy barks. Lemme show you how to work it."

After a brief demonstration, T'sunk'al was delighted.

"This is simply..." He was cut off by a loud beeping. "...fuck. S, what the fuck is that?"

Sk'shal rushed into the ship and a moment later sprinted out, dropping poop from his pants leg.

"It's a Federation cruiser!" T'sunk'al looked down at Sk'shal's leg.

"Seriously?"

"What are we going to do?!?" Sk'shal cried in terror.

Sheila paced back and forth.

"Shit. Shit. Shit." She yelled, then she stopped pacing. "This is what we are going to do. Get those Z'uush onto my ship NOW! I promised I would get them out, and they are getting out. Get the nukes and as many weapons as you can onto your ship."

"Why?"

"Just DO IT!" T'sunk'al yelled as he started pushing the nukes towards his ship.

"Hey, Major… landers… now. You got maybe five minutes." A man yelled from the Paper Tiger.

"You hear that, Z'uushlings? You got five minutes to get on board. GO GO GO GO!" Sheila yelled as she threw open a case and grabbed an AK.

"Fuck it," T'sunk'al said calmly as he also grabbed one.

"What about the cargo?" The voice yelled from Sheila's ship.

"They are the fucking cargo! Prepare to launch!"

"You got it, major! But we aren't going to be able to get them onboard and launch in time."

"I'll get you time!" Sheila yelled as she chambered a round. "I'm counting on you, sergeant!"

A man ran from the ship and helped the Z'uush board.

"Welcome to pirate cruise lines. We hope you enjoy your trip!" he said cheerfully as he started herding the refugees into Sheila's cargo ship.

"What are you doing, lieutenant?" Sheila barked.

"Backing your dumb ass up, ma'am!"

After the former lieutenant pushed the last Z'uush family on board, he grabbed a rifle.

"Get your ship airborne the second the Tiger lifts off!" Sheila yelled at the two Z'uush. The Feds will go after the nukes and buy us some time!"

Sk'shal, with a loud wet farting noise, ran towards the vessel.

"Why am I enjoying this!?!" he yelled as he spun up the engines. Sheila looked over at T'sunk'al.

"How long does he need?"

"If he stops shitting himself, maybe three minutes."

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Two Federation landing craft came into view.

"Shit. They're early. Gentlemen, it's been a pleasure. Oh, and T, I did bring chocolate. Should have delivered it first. Sorry."

"No worries. It's best for a Z'uush to face this sort of thing on an empty stomach anyhow." T'sunk'al said as he ducked behind a pallet of crystal meth. Sheila turned to her comrades and grinned.

"Ok, boys, it's party time!" Sheila yelled as she opened fire.

***

"Captain, we are taking heavy fire. We have three combatants, two human and one z'uush." The Federation strike leader reported. The captain was less than pleased.

"There are only three of them. So what is the issue?"

"They have us pinned down, and (bang) we are taking (bang) casualties! (brrrrrt) Request permission to use lethal force!"

"Negative. We need them alive. We need to know the source of the nuclear weapons."

"Then we need reinforc..."

"Captain, this is Strike Sergeant Xclong. The strike leader has been severely injured, and I am assumin… THEY HAVE GRENADES… assuming com… BANG… assuming command."

"Sir, the ships have launched and are heading in opposite directions. THEY HAVE ROCKETS!! GET AWAY FROM… (BOOM)… Sir, we have just lost a landing craft."

"(sigh) Very well, sergeant. Withdraw to defensive positions and await reinforcements."

"Yes, sir. (BOOOOM) Sir, we just lost the other lander." The captain mumbled obscenities under his breath. And pressed a button on his console.

"Yes, Captain!"

"Send every damned marine we have to the surface now. Get a lock on the vessel with the nukes and fire an EMP. We will board it once we deal with the surface."

"Yes, Sir! I'm trying, sir."

"Trying?!"

"His evasive maneuvers are… wait… I got him."

"Sir, the other vessel has jumped to hyperspace."

"Yes, exactly as they planned." The captain growled.

***

Sheila awoke greeted with a splitting headache. She groaned and rolled over to discover that she was sharing a cell with her compatriots.

"Fuuuuuck… Owww. Is it just me, or have they dialed up the stunners?" She mumbled.

T'sunk'al painfully flopped over.

"It wasn't so much the setting as it was the number of times we were shot. I know for a fact you caught a couple after you were down. I think they were somewhat displeased with you."

"Those assholes..." Sheila grinned. "I wonder why they could possibly be angry with us."

"Indeed. They have absolutely no sense of humor… Ow. I think I cracked my carapace."

The lieutenant groaned faintly. Sheila weakly kicked at him. "Dumbass. Big fucking glorious dumbass," she said proudly.

***

Ambassador Wintersmith was having lunch when he got the news. The fucking Federation actually did something effective! They had caught her! Not only had they caught her red-handed, but they caught two Z'uush who were paying for guns and nukes with crystal meth of all things. He was mystified how the Feds managed to pull it off, but the important thing was that they did.

Now all he had to do was collect her. The Terran Republic had a whole lot of questions for that bitch, and there was no way she was wiggling out of this one. So he quickly boarded his diplomatic craft and headed for Fed Security Station Twelve, where his prize awaited.

He arrived to find Sheila, an unknown human male, and two Z'uush, all of which looked scorched and groggy. He turned to the guard, a burly Threen.

"What happened to them?"

"Nothing… They were just shot with stunners… repeatedly… numerous times… including two incidents while in custody. The female is a biter. So is one of the Z'uush."

"Good," Jon said with a smile. "Zap them a few times for me. Oh, where is the security chief? I am here to take custody of the Terrans and would like to request the right for myself or a representative to be present for the interrogation of the Z'uush."

The guard shifted uneasily.

Jon's good mood started to evaporate. "What?"

"It's not my place to say, ambassador."

"Well, it is mine!" Said an unfortunately familiar voice behind him. Jon's good mood was officially gone. Reminding himself that what he really really wanted to do was definitely not a good idea, Jon turned around, and there, every pecker on his goddamn muppet head fully inflated to the point of bursting, was councilor K-shal-ta. Behind him were two humans in Federation uniforms.

Jon snarled and unconsciously stepped forward. There was nothing, nothing in the whole universe more hated by a Terran human than a Federation human. Those collaborating bastards were in no small way responsible for the trumped-up bullshit charges that the Federation used to justify their attack and were exceedingly helpful in making that attack a success. Jon had murder in his eyes, so much so that K-shal-ta's pecker crest deflated slightly.

"If the ambassador behaves in any way that could be considered violent, you have my authority to use any force necessary to resolve the situation," he said to the increasingly uncomfortable Threen.

The Threen slumped. Just two more hours. Just two more fucking hours, and his weekend would start, and he did not need this shit. The Threen had dealt with Terrans before during the war. He did NOT want to do it again. Those fuckers were evil. Two hours to go, and now he had the perfect storm of a Terran human and two Federation humans. That Terran might be an ambassador now, and he didn't know Terran heraldry. Still, he was pretty sure that they didn't hand out decorations featuring what were clearly skeletal remains of some sort for organizing the office charity drive.

"Yes, councilor," he said about as miserably as a Threen could.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Councilor?" Jon hissed.

"I am here to facilitate the transfer of these prisoners… all of them."

"What the fuck are you playing at K-shal-ta?" He glared at the humans and saw Federation intelligence designations on their uniforms. "I am NOT in the mood for your bullshit right now."

"Nor I yours." the councilor said with undisguised glee. "Now, please be a good ambassador and step aside."

"Like fuck I will! They may be scum, but they are Terran scum, and I am here to haul their asses off to Terran space for questioning."

"Oh, you mean these enemy combatants?"

Jon blinked.

"What?"

"Oh, didn't you hear? They bore arms alongside dangerous Z'uush insurgents in a direct armed conflict with Federation forces. That. Makes. Them. Enemy. Combatants." K-shal-ta said in the most condescending tone he could muster. "They are directly involved in a current armed conflict with the Federation and as such are valuable intelligence assets."

"That is total bullshit, and you know it."

"In accordance with statute seven of-"

"Stick statute seven up your ass. This is not over."

"Yes, ambassador, it is. Now, these nice intelligence officers will take custody of these enemy combatants and rigorously interrogate them. After that, we will share any pertinent information, at our discretion, of course," Councilor K-shal-ta cackled with glee.

"Councilor," one of the Federation agents quietly said and then nodded toward Jon. "Due to… obvious considerations, we believed that time was of the essence, so we took a heavy fighter here, and it isn't large enough for the prisoners. We would like to requisition a larger ship for transport of the prisoners and guards necessary to secure them."

"Of course, of course, agent. You have my authority. Just report to the transport office."

"Councilor, we are taking them to a black site, and it would be best if you signed for it directly for security reasons. We don't wish to file an official flight plan."

"Absolutely. Just hand me the… why such a large vessel?"

"Unfortunately, after examining the vessels available, it is the only one large enough to meet our needs. Admittedly it is much too large, and we apologize for the inefficiency, but rather than arrange for something more suitable, we believe it's for the best..." The Federation human glanced at Jon. "I believe it best for us to transfer the prisoners immediately."

"That makes sense." The councilor quickly signed the tablet and grinned at Jon, utterly unaware of how close he came to dying just then.

"Thank you, councilor. We will take the prisoners now." Sheila and her cohorts were led away. Jon stood there motionless for some time, much to the concern of a certain Threen.

***

The next day Jon was in his office absolutely enraged. His calls either went unanswered, or he got a bland response that was basically what the councilor had already told him. The icing on the top of the cake was when his superiors told him to drop it. Apparently, they had concerns that it could become a real diplomatic incident. It seemed that everyone thought the easiest answer would be if the whole problem just went away, even if it meant leaving Terran citizens in the hands of Federation traitors.

Everyone was satisfied.

Everyone except Jon, of course. Yes, he had inquired about "making her go away" before, but handing her over to the traitors? He wouldn't wish that on any Terran.

He wasn't going to let this one go, career be damned. Just as he grabbed the phone for yet another round of calls, his intercom buzzed.

"Ambassador..." Toby said hesitantly, "Councilor K-shal-ta is here to see you."

"Show him in." Jon snarled.

"Ambassador," the councilor said, his voice just dripping with glee, "I understand that you are still engaged in a futile attempt to somehow manage to change the situation. Now I would normally let you scream and flail until the end of time, but I am getting tired of taking calls about it. You will not win. Those Terrans will be in the Nigerian detention facility until the end of time."

Jon blinked.

"The what? The what facility?"

"The Nigerian detention facility."

Jon blinked again.

"Have you ever actually heard of the Nigerian detention facility before?" Jon asked.

"No, of course not. It is a black site operated by the humans. You have heard of black sites before, I trust? I understand it's an underhanded human way to bypass troublesome regulations."

"Oh, I have heard of something like this before," Jon said, trying desperately to suppress a grin. "Not that it's any of my business, but exactly how big of a transport vessel did the agents requisition?"

"I see no harm in telling you. It was a class twelve medium cargo vessel." Jon couldn't help but chuckle.

"That's a pretty big ship. Great jump range, too… Very nice. Did they request anything else, maybe something like an off-the-record small loan or service in exchange for large rewards that sounded perfectly reasonable considering the circumstances?"

"Absolutely not, and I would report such an offer if they did. Corruption is a Terran phenomenon," the councilor said with just a bit too much conviction.

Jon smiled and leaned back in his chair.

"Well, I know when I am beat. I guess I will just have to accept things the way they are." Jon laughed. "Have a great day, councilor."

Councilor K-shal-ta refused to be deceived by the wild hilarity displayed by his brain wave scanner and proudly strode, crest fully erect, out of ambassador Wintersmith's office. Once he left Jon, let out a long contented sigh and pressed the intercom.

"Oh Toby, would you pretty pretty please get me Terran Intelligence on the line. They are not going to believe this one."

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