Planet of the Women (IC)

[magbeam]

(OOC thread here)

Wow, folks, he's hit that ball clear out of the...

*bzzt*

...transport officials have said that the disruption caused by the attempted boycott of the city's bus system will not spread to other cities in the South...

*bzzt*

...I have in my possession a list of four hundred and thirty seven card-carrying members of the...

*bzzt*

...the President has said that all acts of aggression will be met with force suitable to defend the United States and its democratic allies oversees.

Now, turning from foreign news, we have a real treat in store for you tonight! From the icy blackness of uncharted cosmic space, from the unimaginably distant future of the year 1997, we now bring you the next part of our exciting serial...

Space Patrol!
Chapter Seven:
Planet of the Women!​

When we last saw our intrepid heroes, the Space Patrol had dispatched them to the Sirius Sector on a routine reconnaissance mission to determine whether the Molovian Star Commune's overtures for peaceful co-existence. Unknown and unexpected by the staff of Space Command HQ on Earth, the crew of the USS Spirit of John Norman have discovered that the diplomacy was nothing but a ruse intended to give time for the evil Molovians to build up an immense space fleet - for the express purpose of carrying on an invasion of the Earth itself!

As we return to our heroes, they have just escaped the fighter patrols of Sirius Major and are hurrying back to Earth to relay news of their horrifying discovery to Space Command.

And remember, folks, for that smooth taste, there is no substitute for the mixed domestic and Turkish blends of Fleur-de-Lis cigarettes, baked using their special techniques to prevent harsh, irritating smoke! Fleur-de-Lis, accept no substitute!

* * * * * *​

"Blast!"

Captain Jack Richards grit his clean-shaven square jaw in a look of pure determination. His grip tightened on the throttle-release of the USS Spirit of John Norman's control panel. Under his expert guidance as a senior officer of the United States Astro Patrol Corps, an extra moderation rod withdrew from the ship's thorium pile, and Richards was pressed back into his seat as a surge of neutrons energized the ship's trans-atomic motor. A grin split his ruggedly-determined face.

"Let's see those fiends try to catch up to that!"

Captain Richards risked a glance from the plate-plastic windshield of the Spirit of John Norman to view his two companions in the compact cockpit of the scout-vessel. At the engineering hub sat Lieutenant Alan Roberts, fresh-faced and just out of the Space Service Academy, with flight commander Steve Alexander, a resolute pillar of strength and reserve, at communications. Richards himself was between the two of them in age. Square-jawed, blond hair cropped close, with piercing blue eyes, the thin scar he had received along his strong chin in a honor duel with the Slave Lord of Titan only seemed to enhance his all-American looks.

Born on Port Lowell, Mars shortly after it had become the 73rd state, he had known from birth that his destiny lay in expanding American democracy and old-fashioned decency throughout the unplumbed depths of cosmic space. When his father - captain of the First Moon Mission, far back in 1948, just after the principles of atomic theory and rocketry had been successfully combined for the first time - had been killed by Ceresian Rayslinger Bandits along the Asteroid Belt Frontier - Richards' spine had been steeled to what seemed to be the universal law of survival. Force and violence, regrettable as it had to be, has to be used from time to time to keep the common, decent Human being free from the scourge of the barbaric and lawless fiends who inhabited the uncivilized worlds of the Universe. And Captain Richards would never shirk in his sworn duty to make cosmic space safe for the American ways of life.

Which was what the Spirit of John Norman had been doing in the Sirius Sector, so far out from the borders of the Solar System Federation. The Molovian Star Commune, a notorious race of inter-planetary brigands, rabble-rousers, and anarchist strongmen espousing their ideology of lawlessness and totalitarianism under vague notions of equality, freedom, and liberty, had caused the downfall of countless planets in neighboring solar nebulas since Earth had achieved its first flights into the depths of the cosmic aether. Their usual mode of operation was to infiltrate a planet through plants to espouse their social and political viewpoints by abusing notions of freedom of speech, but it was also known that they had a large space-fleet armed with the most advanced atomic weapons and long-range ray-beams. Space Command HQ had ordered the Spirit of John Norman to take a look.

But not even the most advanced strategists on the Home World could have imagined the terrifying secret lurking within the Iron Nebula that shrouded the Sirius Sector!

"Golly no, it looks like you sure put the dash on them there, Captain!" Lt. Roberts agreed. "If only-" The Spirit of John Norman suddenly shuddered, the three aero-nauts tossed back and forth in their seats.

"Zounds, what was that!?" frantically burst Lt. Roberts.

"Captain, we're being hailed on the tele-wireless!" informed Flight Commander Alexander. He toggled a few switches, and on the viewing-screen the hateful visage of Ling-ying the Tyrannic, Supreme Dictator of the Molovian Star Commune appeared.

"Ah, Captain Lichalds, so solly to intellupt you'le rittre escape," the vile stellar despot lisped, his mouth unable to properly form the words of the English language that had for so long stood as the language of universal freedom and liberty, the same principles that were such anathema to his hated and oppressive regime. As he spoke, he idly twirled one side of his long, droopy, and well-groomed mustache. The Molovian Central Politburo might espouse the radical call of anarchic liberation, but the greatest pampering was reserved for their First Comrade.

"Can it, Ling-ying," Richards defiantly growled into the view-phone. "We saw that battle-fleet you've been hiding from the Space Patrol. The only planet within range is Earth. Your words of mutual co-existence and peaceful rise may have fooled the more idealistic and naive elements of our government, but when Space Command gets wind of your real intentions, the true patriots will have no compunction against bombing you back to the Pre-Atomic Age!"

"And what makes you think that Ealth wirr evel get youl lepolt in time, my deal Space Captain?" Ling-ying smiled, revealing rows of pointed, yellow teeth, decayed from years of living off of the sweets produced by the millions of enslaved workers on Sirius Major. "I velly much leglet to infolm you that we have taken the ribelty of jamming youl wileress signars."

"That may be, but at our trans-atomic speeds, we'll reach Earth months before your battle-ships with their primitive rocket-tubes are able to do so," Richards retorted, supremely confident in the ability of American industrial craftsmanship and durability to triumph over any foreign competition, on Earth or beyond it.

"Ahaha! Ahahahahhahaha!" Ling-ying sinisterly cackled, twirling his mustache. "Rittre do you know, Captain Lichalds, that our supeliol levorutionaly archemists have cleated an advanced folm of plopursion that wirr arrow my combat freet to leach Ealth in one-qualtel of the time! Ahahahha! Pliol to this finar enelgy sarvo, ret that be the rast thing to pass thlough youl minds! Good day, gentremen! Ahahahahaha..." With the unearthly laughter of the despotic tyrant of the Sirius Sector still ringing in the ears of the intrepid American pilots, the visi-wireless communication beam was broken.

"Double-blast!" Captain Richards let out, as springing through the icey blackness of the voice, several lances of concentrated atomic-ray energy burst from Ling-ying's command ship, arcing across the Spirit of John Norman. The tiny scout shuddered again, warning bells going off within the cockpit.

"The thorium pile has been perforated!" Lieutenant Roberts exclaimed.

"The trans-atomic motors have malfunctioned! We've lost our velocity wave!" added Flight Commander Alexander.

Wave after wave of Molovian fighter-bomber starcraft strafed them now, delivering bolts of atom-rays into the fuselage of the proud American ship. Burning fuel spurted out from several ports along the rear guidance-fins, giving the ship the impression of being a comet, spewing a trail of flame.

"I'm bringing her down, hard!" Richards advised his crew. He looked over the cathode screens before him desperately, then shouted triumphantly. Even in this time of unimaginable stress, he betrayed nary a hint of fear or terror, cool enough that not a single drop of sweat dripped down from his still-immaculate brow.

"There's a planet up head! Not on any of my cosmographic charts, must have stumbled across it by accident when we were blasted out of trans-atomic speeds. But it seems like it's capable of supporting Earth-Standard life."

The Spirit of John Norman was bucking again, but this time due to entering the planet's upper atmosphere, a screaming noise audible from outside it. However, at least it meant that the enemy fighter-ships were breaking off to return to their mothership. Richards pulled up on the guidance levers, but the ship didn't respond.

"Drat! Must have picked up more hits in the hydraulic lines than I thought!" Through the front portholes, lush jungle landscape was approaching at ever-quicker speeds. "I...I think I can still land us. Everyone, hold on. It's going...to...be...a...close...one..."

* * * * * *​

On board the flagship of Ling-ying's battlefleet, the war-cruiser Red Fist of Sirius, Fleet Admiral Peng approached his Supreme Leader's dias, bowing before it.

"Honorabre Comlade Walrold, we have rocated the clash site of the Ealthring ship. It clashed on a lemote, unchalted pranet. Sharr we send a team to lecovel the meddring Ealthring?"

"No!" Ling-ying's response was a fearful yell, frightening the several debouched harem-concubines huddled around him on his command-throne. "Nothing can srow us down flom oul pran to invade the Ealth! With that tilesome Captain Lichalds deart with, and oul advanced locket-thlustels, no one on Ealth wirr be abre to anticipate oul attack! Ealth sharr finarry be mine! Arr mine!"

"But Comlade Ring-ring, sulery it would be pludent to at reast see if the impeliarist intludels' ship-"

"I said no! Obey youl rold and mastel!" Ling-ying cruelly backhanded Admiral Peng, then broke out into laughter.

"Besides, thele is no point. No one courd have sulvived that clash. Absorutery no one! They are sulery dead, all dead! Mwa ha ha ha ha haaaaa!"

* * * * * *​

HOW will our heroes escape this fine scrap!?

WHAT is this strange world that may be their final grave!?

WILL Earth fall under the iron heel of Molovian tyranny!?

FIND OUT in the EXCITING CONTINUATION of...

PLANET
OF THE
WOMEN!!!!​

 

[Leopald]

Lt. Alan Roberts was staring at a mess of cables and wiring inside an open hatch on the underside of the ship. He wiped the sweat off his face, which was splotched with dirt and grease from working in the confined space.

"Gee, Cap'n, I dunno how long it's gonna take to get these hydrolic lines fixed... And the stabalizers have been burned out. I'm startin' to wish I hadn't transfered all the power to them during our descent."

In reality, he knew that the action may have saved more than it cost. He had no doubts in his Captain's ability to save their lives with his expert piloting, but by super-heating the stabalizers with the remainder of the quantum particles available, he had helped to severly lessen the extent of the damage over the entire ship.

"The Tele-wireless is a lost cause, and by golly it looks like it's gonna take some time for the quantum particles to regenerate, and I'll still need some hosing to fit around the coils, as that's pretty much been melted away. The tubes are still intact, though. She's a tough ship, alright!"

He slid out from under the panel to reveal his excited green eyes. He always looked excited, even in the direst of situations. He was a perpetual optimist, and never once believed that they would not triumph over whatever diabolical foes they encountered. Some would call it being naive, which may have been the truth about Lt. Roberts. He wiped the soot away from his clean-shaven jaw and ran his hand through his crew-cut black hair. He patted the belly of the ship affectionately.

"All in all, I'd say we got quite the haul ahead of us. But it coulda been worse," he said, with a grin, as he looked at their surroundings. "At least the jungle is pretty!"

He had never quite pictured himself working alongside heroes such as these when he joined the USACP, he just figured he'd be stuck on some boring station somewhere making mundane repairs 'till he retired. He had quickly risen to the top of his class, and was hand-picked for this assignment as soon as he had graduated from the Academy. Needless to say, excited never quite described his elation.

"Did we ever figure out what planet we crashed on, Cap'n?" he asked.

 

[HermesVoice]

Flight Cmdr. Les Alexander

Sitting in the narrow confines of the ship’s command deck, jaw jutting aggressively forward, Flight Commander Les Alexander raked his gunmetal blue eyes over the bank of vid screens before him. Running surveillance, he checked the safety of the men below. The captain stood proudly, Alpha Ray in one hand, the other shading his eyes as he peered around him. Lt. Roberts was hard at work on the engines. It was quiet in the clearing that had been blasted open by their landing, but all around them …

Jungle, Alexander thought. Jungle rich and green as an emerald - yet as darkly mysterious as the glances of the maids of the Orient. He chuckled grimly at the notion before growling aloud with a steely smile, “No time for poetry now.” For here he must be Astro Trooper first, poet though he was by nature. They’d called him “Walt” at the Academy, a name that followed him to every port of call throughout the Solar System Federation, and it was a name that defined him, if anything could, even more than the proud uniform of the Astro Patrol Corps - for of course, a soldier could not always be in uniform.

He looked away from the vids momentarily to check the skies through the plasti-glass windshield. Surely the twisted, inhuman lord of the Molovian Star Commune would be sending scouts of his own to check the fate of his erstwhile foes … and yet there’d been no sign of the malign thugs. It seemed they’d assumed the fate of the Norman and its crew. “Their worse luck!” the flight commander laughed with grim bark. “The Norman was made to last, forged like a sword of democracy in the great furnaces of New Detroit, her heart of pure US Steel steel, thank you very much Mr. Ling-ying!”

As he uttered the words, he thought he saw a flash of movement in the dense underbrush that surrounded the ship. Checking the vidscreen more closely, he fingered the red button that would unleash a maelstrom of atomic rays at any foe of the USAPC - at any and all enemies of Space Command and her brave allies – but he withheld his fire. He knew beings like the Venusian Space Rippers or the Blood Warriors of Cygnus 5 would vaporize anything that moved around the ship. And it went without saying the Molovians would poison everything in a fifty mile radius, but, like the brave patriots of human space history, Flight Commander Les “Walt” Alexander preferred peace to war. If even a single innocent was at risk, how could he - how could ANY American of conscience - unleash the hellish forces of the atom? Let such barbarity be the calling card of other species, he’d defend his country and his world as if they were his honor, for of course, all were tied together.

He could just hear Roberts’ voice float up through the open hatches. “…gonna take some time for the quantum particles to regenerate, and I'll still need some hosing to …”

Alexander muttered a low oath. They had to get back in space and double-time quick. Ling-ying’s lies of the past were well known to all sentient species, but what if he’d been telling the truth about the new Molovian engines? Unbidden came a dark image of the massed fleet cruising low over the wheat fields of the Kansas farm his family had called home for generations; of the First Comrade’s notorious secret police rounding up his kid brother, Timmy (for little Timmy would surely fight the Godless invaders); of Sis Betsy in her pigtails and blue pinafore under the cruel electro-whips of the yellow overlords, forced to tend the farm … or worse …

“Get hold of yourself, trooper,” he snarled softly to himself. “You’ve got a job to do. Make sure we all get off this rock together, then head home to defend Ma and the rest.”

His mother had been proud on the day long ago he’d graduated from the Academy. She kept clippings about all the space engagements he’d been in. Below the painting of the crucifixion in the living room, she kept a large photo of her son in his blue midshipman’s uniform. “If only you could see me now, Ma,” he smiled, for the perpetual wars to safeguard the earth and America had kept him from home for two long years and four promotions. He wore Flight Command white now. Still, he couldn’t help but glance wistfully at Capt. Richards’ command chair, daydreaming, not for the first time, of how it must feel there between two other men, driving the ship into the dark vastness of space.

“Les! Did you get Alan's question?” he heard the captain grate, pulling him from his reverie. "Any fix on this planet?"

Cursing himself for his inattentiveness, Alexander thought quickly, going back over his memory before fumbling out, “Aaahhh … no … captain. The star charts don’t seem to – “

And there it was. Another, very definite flash of movement in the jungle to the right. “Bogeys at 3 o’clock, captain!!” he called out, breaking into a broad smile. Just like Grandpa Alexander and the Nazis, he thought, glad to be back in the manly realm of action!!

 

[UnseenMaiden]

Meanwhile, deep within this mysterious alien jungle, the barbaric natives, a tribe of uncivilized women, have learned of our heroes arrival....

At the heart of the island, crumbling buildings of metal and stone speak of a world long past. There among the twisting trees and vines, a small girl, clad only in a thread bare tunic, scampers across the landscape and into one of the ruins. Night was quickly descending and darkness reigned in the Temple of the Order of the Great Mother. A woman kneels in front of a towering statue and presses her fingers to her forehead in what is surely a sign of reverence.

"Great Mother, we greet the night with open arms, secure in the knowledge of your blessed protection. May your song resound in our dreams and bring us peace of mind."

Her words were taken up and echoed across the vast chamber by dozens of women and teenage girls that knelt in much the same way as the High Priestess. Aditi was clearly a woman of power. It showed in the grace in which she carried herself, the ever-present calm of her eyes, and the decisiveness in which she handled things. Even as she took such a position of submission, her body language clearly demanded the respect of those around her. She had been raised in the temple after being chosen as a child to join the Order and serve the Great Mother. This life was all she knew and all she wanted. Which was a pity according to many of her admirers. She was beautiful in the dark and sultry way that they believed Daughter Azeal, Goddess of the Oceans, to be. Many had been known to try and win her sole affections, but to no avail.

From the doorway comes a little girl, her feet swift and silent over the time worn stones as she makes her way to the familiar figure of the High Priestess Aditi. Then she stops as she remembers her place and presses her fingers to her own head before kneeling down next to the woman's prostrate form and whispers of our heroes arrival in her ear. Silence settles around them for some moments before Aditi's strong voice calls out to her Goddess once again.

"Great Mother, I seek your guidance. A star has fallen from above. I would beseech your wisdom in speaking with my queen in order to abate the wild fear that may come of this most strange occurrence."

She had wanted to believe that this was nothing more than another falling star when it had streaked their skies, but foreboding had ran chilling through her. Now the child's tale of being made of gleaming metal lying within the jungle made her mind race. If indeed doom had befallen them, then not much time could be wasted. A panic could rise within their beloved city spreading chaos among them. The Queen had her loyalty, but first and foremost her thoughts were for the Goddess and preservation of her teachings. Something of which she was certain her Queen had little interest in, despite her polite demeanor of respect for their heritage. Many of their people followed the monarch's choices. Times were changing and she did not like it. She hated to think that one day the rumors of dissent between the Order and nobility would ring with truth. Pressing her fingertips once more to her forehead, she stood and left the shrine, her skirts swirling about her. Many of the other priestesses followed in her footsteps.

By comparison, the royal palace is not much different from any of the other ruins that populate their alien city. Yet within the rooms and hallways gleam as if they were almost new and bright fabrics brighten the dark stone that creates the place. In short moments, the High Priestess Aditi is announced and she strides in, pausing sweep a low bow before immediately addressing the reason for her sudden presence.

"Your Majesty, I fear that even now news has reached your ears of the unusual event that has befallen us. I would ask of you to allow the Order to search the Blue Forests, in order to deal with whatever threat this phenomenon may pose upon our people."

She does not look directly at the woman on the throne, even now. This habit has born a million whispers about what ill will may exist between the two powerful figures. Aditi neither confirms nor denies any of these allegations. There was a time when the two women were friends, but they had been very young and that time seemed like another life to her now.

 

[lil_squirter]

A soft gong sound echoed through the gossamer curtains that separated the royal bed chambers from the rest of the palace. Shimmering torchlight bathed the room in a golden glow that cast deep shadows in the corners of the large room. Ancient stone walls rose high and stone to define the interior of the space, the Palace could have looked cold and foreboding if not for the brightness of the draped cloth wall hangings and metallic bowls which held the flaming oil to light the area.

Such was the Palace of the women of this wild and untamed world, and like their environment they too were fiery and unbound by the laws of any but themselves. It was unto this world that was born the Princess Xelonia, prize of her mother the Queen. That powerful matriarch had secured her rule through strength, wisdom and an uneasy alliance with the High Priestess, Aditi.

The young royal had learned at Aditi's feet since she was a child, as all nobility were trained to know and respect the Goddess from whence all blessings fell. Years ago there had been a kinship between them, but the Queen had cut short the Princesses studies as soon as it was deemed acceptable to do so. The extent of the situation between Queen and Priestess was unknown to the somewhat shielded woman child.

But no protection can be ever present, events will disrupt them. While soaking her supple young body in the royal pools Xelonia had been witness to the strange arching of fire across the sky. Goddess! She had foretold that there would come stars to fall from the Heavens. This must be a portent of great consequence. The flame haired heir of the throne had heard the whispers of the attending maidens and found herself unable to resist finding out more.

She emerged from the bath, water slipping down her fair skinned body, that alone separated her from the tanned sisters who spent so much of their time working crops, guarding the city or hunting.The light skin was a mark of those who lived under the shadow of privilege and devoted their lives to their people. One day Xelonia would be Queen and she could only hope to keep the peace and prosperity her mother had maintained through her reign.

That day would come, but it was not today, or tonight as the case was. Handmaidens rushed to pat their Princess dry and rub the ceremonial oils into her skin leaving it dewy and glistening with a hint of gold.Hair remained piled up in it's intricate coils and knots, the reddish shade complemented by the sheer material of the gown she was assisted into. As by tradition of her people it dipped low between her breasts and highly split on each thigh to show that no weapons were concealed on her body.

Sandals wrapped straps around her legs and gauntlets of shiny metal adorned her wrists, all trappings of hundreds of years of practiced respect to the old ways of the Goddess. Finally once she had been fully clothed, perfumed and readied could she slip away and eves drop on the conversation between her mother and the Priestess. What was this strange star to fall so near? What did the Goddess send them? She was very nearly curious enough to investigate herself. For the moment though, she stayed her hand and simply leaned with her back to the wall, wide eyes edging around the corner as she listened.

 

[MelancholyBaby]

Her Radiant Loveliness, Queen Arabesca Franzangeliniqua the Second greeted the entrance of evening in her usual fashion; she held a banquet. Tongues of fire licked up at the twilight sky as palace doors opened, greeting her guests; the fine fabrics draped upon the walls a stark comparison to the natural vegetation that adorned most of the structures on the island. The banquet hall swelled as the Queen, Her Court, and honored guests piled into it, cadences of soprano laughter filling the palace and the night sky beyond.

It was through the window in the banquet hall that they saw it.

Pizzicatricity, the Queen’s science advisor leapt from her seat, her wide eyes affixed upon the star that seemed to fall from the heavens. “By the goddess, your radiant loveliness, I was not expecting an astronomical phenomena such as this to occur for another…” she stopped as she felt the eyes of every woman on her. “A very lengthy period of time, your radiant loveliness.”

“Perhaps it is a sign,” one woman murmured.

“Maybe you will have another child,” another one offered.

“You should go see Adi…” The offending woman’s words were cut short.

Her Radiant Loveliness rose and made her way slowly to the window, her gentle blue eyes adjusting the dark, velvet blue that was now hung, the purplish mist of the remnant light like stardust in the heavens. “I am sure Pizzicatricity is right,” she said, patting the disheveled looking woman reassuringly on the shoulder. “Some kind of natural phenomena explained by science. What we are teaching the young ones, but what we sometimes forget ourselves.” Perhaps that was a bit of practiced nonsense but it was mostly truth. Arabesca resumed her place at the head of the table and like the leader of a small ensemble brought the party to lively fortissimo of nothingness and gaiety.

"I want to dance!" Arabesca stood up, stomping her wee feet. "What is a banquet without dancing? It is like a palace without a queen! No!" She stopped, her voice solemn and hushed. "It is like having a queen who is not beautiful. How...how...terrible."

The players entered, clad in brightly colored garments, perhaps an overabundance of pink by some standards but it was the Queen's own design and thus tolerated. "Something lively, your Luscious Highness?"

"Yes, yes," Queen Arabesca clasped her hands together in merriment. "But not something too serious, you know, something less serious." She looked around the room, her porcelain face giddy with excitement. "Oh, I love music, don't you all?"

"Indeed, your Benevolent Beautifulness." The less serious music had scarcely began when a small voice broke through the lively melodies.

“Your Raid-ee-int Luh-vlee-ness,” the child said slowly, each syllable gingerly pronounced.

“Yes, Karenininina?” Queen Arabesca pushed her long, golden-blond curls from her face and kneeled down to face the appropriately reverent little girl.

“They sent me to go find you to tell you you have visitors.”

“Who, Kareninina?”

The girl’s eyes just sparkled with excitement and Arabesca knew. Kareninina ran ahead gleefully as Her Radiant Loveliness prepared herself. "Pizzicatricity, you shall accompany me. Carry on, the rest of you. My duty should not cause any inconvenience."

She was silent as she made her way through the palace but her feet quickened a bit as she heard the music resume in the banquet hall, its faint strains heard even so far away. Settling on her throne, a lovely shade of pink, Aditi was announced. Arabesca hadn't had time to even greet her when she began to speak.

"Your Majesty, I fear that even now news has reached your ears of the unusual event that has befallen us. I would ask of you to allow the Order to search the Blue Forests, in order to deal with whatever threat this phenomenon may pose upon our people."

Arabesca stood. "So I have heard. The Order may search, but under one condition. I, and the Feline Guard, will accompany you. I wish to see the threat firsthand." Arabesca turned to Pizzicatricity as an attendant moved to fetch the Feline Guard. "You will not tell anyone where I have gone. If something is found I may call for you so that you may study the phenomenom."

"Your Radiant Loveliness, The Feline Guard." The attendant handed Arabesca a long pink leash that branched out into several collars wrapped about the necks of some deceptively sweet looking felines. "Goddess be with you all."

Arabesca nodded. "I am ready to leave if you are, Aditi."

 

[magbeam]

Captain Jack Richards

The heroic Captain Jack Richards shook his head as he stared at the sleek lines of the Spirit of John Norman, marred by the scars of the energy-ray fire dealt by their despicable and implacable Molovian nemeses. The team were all standing outside of the space vessel, surveying the damage. The hydraulic fluid that connected the astro-command station with the stubby, but elegantly sweeping, guidance fins at the end of the rocket had been punctured worse than he had thought. They had all been lucky to land at all, let alone in such a relatively smooth fashion as his admittedly-superior skills had enabled him to. Richards was not one to blow his own whistle, of course. He had been raised better than that; his manners, while coated in a polish of deep-space frontier roughness, were equal to those of the Earth Council President. But even he had to admit that he was barely able to feel a hint of disturbance as the Norman had come to a remarkably controlled crash landing in the jungle of the strange world.

No doubt the abundance of foliage helped cushion some of it, he told himself mentally, immediately feeling better about acknowledging the effortlessness of the emergency landing.

Of course, even then, he had trouble believing it - and with any luck, that would mean the Molovians would, as well. How typical it would be of Ling-ying to once more baselessly assume his enemy's death! Molovian arrogance had no second place in all of the Seven Spiral Arms of the universe. And perhaps they had reason to be so arrogant, after centuries of conquering the pitiful and weak civilizations along this galactic sector. But then again, that would be their outdoing - for what race could hope to compete the with the corn-fed ingenuity and heart-rendering bravery of the American man?

Thankfully, the planet they were on - whichever it was, of course - had Earth-Standard gravity and atmosphere, enabling the three aeronauts to journey onto its surface without their bulky atmosphere suits with their giant acrylic bubble helmets. It let them observe from an intimate perspective the damage to the ship. And every new mark, scuffle, and burn made Richards angrier and angrier. The ship, sleek and slender as it was, was like a woman, and the marks on it were bruises. Richards was not a family man, but he had been known to keep a few discrete and loyal sweethearts strewn among the cosmic spaceports of the Solar System, and he knew that women occasionally needed to be taught a lesson that words could not deliver - whether it be to mind her own business, watch her tongue, or stay away from Coloreds. But that was his duty, as their main squeeze. If he saw any other man raise so much as a pinky against his Susie-May or Norma-Paulette, he would give him what for.

And this was the equivalent of the damn dirty Molovians wiping their stinking paws all over his little sister. It was enough to make Richards see red...

And red was his least favorite color.

"There, there," he said, stroking the titanium alloy of the ship's hull. "We'll have you patched up soon." The ship might have been named after one of the heroes who helped rebuild America after the atomic wars of the early 'fifties, but to him, it was all lady. Speaking of which, it was a good thing that the thorium pile had stabilized. It wouldn't have been a very good day for either of them if the atomic energy battery that was the core of their deep-space motors had ruptured. Half a century later, and large tracts of Eastern Europe and Asia were still inhospitable. Not that they had been hospitable places to begin with, of course. Richards let out an amiable chuckle at that witticism.

However, the laugh died off suitably quick when his mind returned to the Molovian Star Fleet approaching Earth - the fleet Space Command would not, could not possibly, learn about until it was too late. The atomic wars were all too vivid in the history of the country and the Solar System Federation. The Molovian Space Armada could deliver ten, a hundred, a thousand times the horror - and in the center of the American heartland, this time, not just on some worthless Russkies or Chinamen. And what the Molovians would do to the survivors...

Richards was all too aware of Ling-ying's deprived tastes when it came to the fairer sex. An unbidden thought came to his mind of his little sister, in chains with her blouse torn, brought before his throne to perform unspeakable acts that no American woman would willingly perform...No! He slammed his hand, now balled into an iron fist, onto the ship's hull. No, they would repair the Spirit of John Norman, return to Earth, and blow every stinking Molovian out of the cosmic sphere!

"Did we ever figure out what planet we crashed on, Cap'n?" he heard Roberts ask.

“Les! Did you get Alan's question?” he helpfully relayed to his experienced flight commander. "Any fix on this planet?"

“Aaahhh … no … captain. The star charts don’t seem to – Bogeys at 3 o’clock, captain!!”

That was not the answer Richards had been expecting - but in a way, it was, for ever since he had been a young lad in the Boy Scouts, he had been trained to be prepared, and such preparation had stayed with him the rest of his life. Yes, every young boy who dreamed of joining the Space Patrol someday should make it his duty to join the Boy Scouts of America. In in an instant, Richards' atomic ray-blaster was out of his holster and in his hand, with him already spinning it around to aim at the area of jungle indicated by his companion...

Only to, an instant later lower it. "Hold your fire, boys!" he called out. He had been prepared to encounter some eldritch and enormous jungle predator, or perhaps a squad of elite Molovian killcommandos sent to finish the job. Instead, what he saw was light years more enjoyable: several attractive young women, clad in savage outfits of leather and jungle leaves that left little to the imagination, and covered even less of their rather pink-hued skin.

"Never worry, lads, nothing to be afraid of!" he called out to reassure his companions. "It's only several native women!" Re-holstering his blaster, Richards approached them, smiling, and asked in a helpfully loud and slow tone of voice:

"HEL-LO. DO YOU SPEAK ENG-LISH?"

 

[lil_squirter]

The trek through the jungle was arduous on her own, she followed her mother and the low growling sounds of the magnificent feline guard. The animals held the lead as the party moved deeper into the thick foliage. Dark shadows swayed and exotic bird cries filtered down to her from the upper canopy.
The wide eyed Princess moved as soundlessly as she could through the trees, her light fabric gown slipping with a whisper through low fronds and thick trees. Her legs were strong but even those lithe limbs felt the distance by the time the party ahead stopped. A small clearing held something but she could not spy it from her vantage point.
Xelonia stepped closer but could not get a view of the goings on, carefully, quietly she stepped around the clearing under the safe cover of the shadows and came up around behind the silvery thing still wafting plums of smoke. Several blinks as she took this to be the fallen star Her Holy Priestess Aditi had come to tell her mother about.
Dainty fingers rose to cover her mouth as she stared at the thing, the attention of all was focused in the meeting of the two groups and this gave the curious Princess her chance to step forward. Weak light set the glistening oil on her skin to sparkle, her fair skin radiant with that glow. Her hair of fire bearing no damage despite the branches encountered on her journey.
Stepping lightly as she heard the strangely deep voices of these new women, Xelonia reached out to touch the smooth hard skin of the star. Mouth gaping in wonder as her fingers felt no heat, now burning from the heavenly body. What a wonder! She thought walking closer to examining strange markings. A noble image of contrasting bands of vibrant red and crisp pristine white, one corner devoted to a blue area dotted with white shapes. It was something beautiful in it's symmetry.
Still her inspection continued behind the star and blocked from view by the rest of those now seeming to fall into a stalemated silence. Soft padding step took her more fully down the length of this fallen celestial thing, still in awe of it and yet with no idea at all if what it was.