Max awoke as a bow-legged cowboy with a tiger, then as a skinless mountain gorilla with a tiger, then as a collection of sentient nanobots bound together as a human (with a tiger), then as a tiger with a human, which was weird.
But then it finally happened.
Max awoke slumped over the pilot seat in the standard punch-out position. A sleepy grunt and eye rub helped to gather his wayward wits. He straightened his posture and glanced around the Ripper cockpit. There, perched upon the console, was Ross as a tubby orange house cat. Max grinned at the sight, but Ross stared back at him in complete silence. Max chewed on his lip, then spread his arms in confusion.
“Well? Got anything to say?”
Ross smirked and shook his head. “Nope. Just going to enjoy the reveal.”
Max scrunched his brow, then lowered his gaze to his chest. Or, more accurately, her chest. A pair of flesh pillows pushed out from beneath a set of leather duds. She gasped, then immediately groped herself. The soft breasts filled her hands perfectly (a relative assessment for any teenage boy). Max lifted, squeezed, lifted some more, squeezed again, and capped it all off with stiff-armed cleavage enhancer. She met eyes with Ross and grinned.
“I am totally okay with this.”
“Oh, are you totally cool with boobs on demand? Pardon me whilst I fetch my shocked face.”
“Bite me, Garfield.”
“That’s racist. And sexist now, I think.”
Max slapped the armrests with a newfound gusto and leapt to her feet to commence a vigorous self-examination. The next order of business was, of course, a crotch grab. She cupped her nethers atop her knickers, then chuckled like a doofus.
“That’s just ... weird. But hey, at least nothing will stick to my thighs anymore.”
Further examination uncovered long brown hair pulled into a tight ponytail. A medium athletic frame filled a full set of leather garments, all dark purple with black accents. The garb was rugged for regular use, but restrained enough to look stylish while out and about. Max caught a glimpse of her reflection in the viewport and twisted her face from side to side. She retained features similar to her male self, much like a fraternal twin.
“So I take it that genders are flipped in this universe?”
“For humans, yes. The mechanism for sex determination is reversed here. You’re a chick, your mother is your father, and all your girlfriends are boyfriends.”
Max thought for a moment. “But I still like boobs.”
“Of course you do. You always retain your psyche after shifting. But, that doesn’t mean this body hasn’t enjoyed its share of meat swords.”
Max cringed.
“Not that it matters. Until you shift again, your status as a hetero male has converted you into a lesbian.”
“Oh.” Max puckered her lips and allowed her mind to wander. “What’s my name here?”
“Max.”
“No, I mean—”
“I know what you meant, minger. Your parents named you Maxine. Everyone still calls you Max.”
“Huh, well that’s convenient.”
“No, just parallel.”
“I, uh—” Max pinched her eyes closed for a brain reset. “Okay, so I’m a woman in tight leather who pilots a Ripper. What’s the backstory here?”
Ross grinned. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Max rolled her eyes and plopped back into the pilot seat. “Great, this should be fun.” She took a measured breath and swayed an open palm, cueing Ross to proceed.
Ross stiffened his posture and puffed his chest, as if to prep for an impromptu briefing. His pursed face and lidded eyes conveyed a secret so juicy that it yearned to break free of its brainy prison. Ross snickered with untold delight, then released the beast. “You’re a me worshipper.”
Max raised an eyebrow. “Come again?”
“You, Maxine of Earth, are a Ferretian Crusader.”
Max lowered the eyebrow.
“Remember that drunken reveal of mine that spawned a ferret-based Earth religion? Yeah, you’re a devout follower. And the best part is, you’re worshiping me and don’t even know it.”
Max huffed and glanced away.
Ross could barely contain his giddiness, cycling through snickers and clamped lips as if post-witness to a loud fart at a funeral.
Max crossed her arms and glared at the feline. “Okay, so I worship a giant purple banjo-playing ferret. How—”
Ross burst into laughter, forcing a wider stance to retain his perch. The console chirped with misplaced paw errors. Max sneered as the feline gasped and wheezed his way back to a reasonable composure.
“And how does this help our current predicament?”
“Brilliantly, to be honest. You’re one of many Ferretian Crusaders who have been summoned to the Terramesh by Orantha Nifan to battle the Moreons. They—”
“Wait, did you just say morons?”
“Moreons. They’re a religious sect that seized control of the Varokin Empire.”
“So what you’re telling me is that I’m a religious nut off to battle other religious nuts?”
Ross nodded. “Pretty much, yeah.”
Max glanced away to mumble some choice curses, then regrouped with a heavy sigh. “And what is this place again, the Terramesh?”
“It’s a bound cluster of 86 stolen planets.”
Max opened her mouth to request clarification, but her brain responded with complete and total assurance that she neither wanted nor needed any further backstory. Her reply manifested as a twitching eyelid.
“The Moreons have partnered with Lord Essien in order to retain control of the Terramesh and shore up an armada. They plan to wage an all-out war with Nifan. Needless to say, The Dossier was none too pleased.”
“Lord Essien is alive?”
“Yup. She and Jai Ferenhal survived the Hollow Hold assault.”
“And now she leads ... the Moreons?”
Ross paused for thought. “Now that you say it out loud, it does seem rather silly.”
“You think?”
“All the same, Zoey and Perra are in route to deliver a payload of cleaver nukes to a bloke named Migg, a Ferretian commander. Nifan plans to destroy the Terramesh in order to wipe out Lord Essien once and for all.”
Max shook her head with a slow and steady pace that conveyed holy shitballs, what have I gotten myself into?
“And so, that’s the plan. You’ll fly this bird to the mesh and sneak back onto Zoey and Perra’s freighter. Game, set, match. Bingo. Yahtzee. Borgal Dorgal.”
Max leaned forward and dropped elbows to knees. She rubbed her face while her gray matter struggled to process the insanity. “This is ridiculous.”
“Hey, you’re the one that wants to reunite with Team Orange.”
“I know, I know. But I thought it would be at a courier outpost or something, not at the epicenter of a religious war with nuclear implications.”
“Beggars, choosers.”
“C’mon, there’s got to be a different angle.”
“We can always cycle through another round of wakey punching.”
“No, no, no, that was quite enough.” Max groaned like a flustered student who had grossly underestimated the exam difficulty. She sighed, grunted, sighed again, grunt-sighed, then flailed her arms. “Fine. Let’s do this.”
“First things first. Computer!”
“Aye, matey,” the computer said, sounding like a raspy pirate.
“Max needs a noodle boost.”
“Aye.”
Max raised an eyebrow. “What, like a boner pill? Not to point out the obvious, but ...”
Ross scoffed at the human. “No, dumbass. Noodle as in brain. It’s a concentrated neural kick. Pilots use them in the black to stay alert from port to port.”
“Sounds illegal.”
“This is space, not Kansas.”
The console pinged and opened a small compartment. A braided metal tube slithered out and snaked its way over to Max, causing her to recoil. A conical head reared up to face its target, like a coiled cobra ready to strike. It split into three separate pieces, forming a shiny flower with a spiked pistil at the center.
Max froze and held her breath. “Uuuh ...”
The metal serpent crackled with charge, then shot a blue bolt of lightning between her eyes. Max jolted like a cartoon dope with a finger stuck in a light socket. The hit lasted for a few seconds, leaving her with tense muscles and frizzy hair. The device closed and slithered back into its hole.
“How are you feeling?” Ross said.
Max rolled her shoulders. “Pretty damn good, actually. You know that sweet spot right after a second cup of coffee and before a major boss fight?”
Ross cocked an ear back. “No.”
“It’s like that, only stronger and cleaner.”
“Whatever. The take-home here is that you should stay awake well through our rendezvous. We have several jumps ahead of us and I need you online to navigate the mesh. If you need another hit, just ask the computer.”
“Aye,” it said. “I’ll jab ye like a dirty hooker.”
Max clapped and grunted with the newfound energy of a pre-match boxer. She grabbed the yoke, entered the next set of coordinates, and initiated the jump drive. A red icon ladder climbed to a peak and pinged green. “Autobots, roll out,” she said, then slapped the jump icon.
Ross rolled his eyes as a sliver of purple light consumed the Ripper.
* * *
Another flash of light belched a tiny freighter into the Behemet system. Inside the cockpit, Zoey and Perra shielded their eyes from the hypergiant off in the distance. The star blazed with a fierce brilliance, despite the billions of miles in between. The viewport auto-dimmed and zoomed in for a closer look, reducing the giant orb to a golden disc peppered with sunspots. The computer added a small dot beside the image, denoting the Mulgawat home star as a mind-melting size comparison.
Zoey mouthed an appropriate expletive and thrust the freighter off to the side. A tangled mesh of shackled planets floated into view, like a cluster of gigantic grapes drifting in the black. Perra vocalized an appropriate expletive. Henry leaned in between them and eyed the bonded worlds with his usual dead-eyed indifference. The Terramesh wandered the outer belt as an absurdist tableau, like a Monty Python sketch on a galactic scale.
Perra tilted her head. “That’s just ... bizarre.”
“Uh huh,” Zoey said.
They turned to Henry, who responded with a shrug and nodded forward, commanding to get on with it.
Zoey scowled at the brute and returned her attention to the console. She grabbed the yoke and prepped the ship for entry. Perra enabled the beacon scanner and armed the ion cannons as a precaution. She tapped the control panel and rendered a hologram map of the Terramesh with Grondon highlighted in the center. The nav system created a dotted trajectory that snaked through the cluster and out to their current position. Zoey nodded and swiped a palm up the console, igniting the main engines.
The freighter kicked forward with a burst of blue light. As they neared the planetary clump, the blended colors of rock and flora separated into distinct surfaces, some painted with vibrant tropics, others cloaked with the browns of dirt and desert. Many featured the glittering light of cityscapes with glowing bands of traffic and industry.
Zoey guided the ship through a chaos of traffic created by 86 linked planets. The freighter dipped beneath barges, sailed around fleets, and hugged the hulls of large cruisers as it penetrated a jumbled mess of interconnected rock and steel. The domes of terrestrial landscapes floated across the viewport as they descended into the madness. The freighter crested an enormous pillar to reveal the icy pole of Grondon in the distance. The planet stood out in stark contrast to its neighbors, like a snowball in a stone pit. The city planet of Jarovy appeared behind it, belching smog as the toxic heart of the Terramesh. Henry eyed the world with a purposeful stare, not that anyone could tell. Zoey and Perra remained entranced by the frigid landscape of Grondon.
“How is that even possible?” Perra said.
“I have no idea,” Zoey said.
“With this much peripheral gravity, the tectonic friction should have melted everything.”
“They never released the proprietary tech, so your guess is as good as mine.”
“Artificial atmo locks?”
“Maybe. That would explain why our nav system isn’t freaking out.”
Perra glanced back to Henry. “Anything to add?”
Henry blinked.
“Fascinating.”
The cockpit pinged with a hailing signal. Zoey reached overhead and flicked a series of switches, silencing the alert and enabling coms. Perra tapped a blinking icon, allowing the hologram bust of Migg to piece itself together above the console. The ladies recoiled at the sight of a stumpy creature with red skin and a mustache of squirming tentacles. Large yellow eyes returned a blank stare, like a murderous garden gnome come to life. Despite the unsettling intro, he wore a purple button-up shirt with a black bowtie, as if prepped to take their order at some nightmarish restaurant.
“You must be Migg,” Zoey said.
Migg ignored her and opted to address Henry. “Blarga bona mee kwang ock.”
Henry nodded.
The hologram crackled and disappeared.
Zoey and Perra traded glances, then turned to Henry.
“Uh, care to elaborate?” Zoey said.
Henry blinked.
The nav system pinged with an incoming transmission. Perra shifted her lips and reluctantly accepted, allowing the system to project a hologram grid upon the viewport. A red trajectory line fell to a remote outpost near the pole. Entry protocols scrolled inside a data panel. The beacon silenced itself and all weapons disarmed.
Zoey turned to Henry.
Henry blinked.
She sneered at the wrinkly brute, then grabbed the yoke and locked onto the trajectory. The freighter pushed forward and carved through the Grondon atmosphere. Soon after, a sea of white filled the viewport. Zoey sailed above a rolling cloud bank, lifting fluffy swirls in her wake. As they neared the outpost, she dipped below the clouds and into a raging blizzard. Snow flurries zipped by the viewport as a wash of turbulence shook the hull. Every clunk and whine from the cargo bay puckered lips and needled nerves. The freighter slowed to a comfortable taxi as a port beacon appeared on the viewport grid. Perra covered her chest with both hands and took a needed breath.
Hull thrusters ignited as the vessel lowered into a rocky ravine. About halfway down, the ledge of a jagged outcrop revealed a small port station hidden inside the ravine wall. As little more than a recessed platform, the destination was less than impressive. Zoey picked one of five landing pads and guided the ship inside. Pillars of blue flame stirred up clouds of snow and steam. Landing claws spread wide to grip the icy plane. A gentle thump concluded their arrival. The main engines spun down, leaving them facing a large metal wall inside a cold and desolate landscape.
Zoey turned to Henry. “Now what?”
Henry blinked.
A massive door panel inside the wall started to rise. The landing pad rumbled beneath the ship and started to crawl towards the opening. Zoey sighed and returned her gaze to the viewport, adding an arm cross to convey her irritation. The platform slid into a large holding bay akin to a service hangar. A small fleet of transport shuttles lined the walls, all dinged and dented like a mess of beater trucks. Creatures in purple uniforms scurried around the enclosure, tending to an array of important tasks. Industrial can lights hung from the craggy ceiling, bathing the room with the harsh glow of a midnight road crew.
The landing pad crawled to the center of the enclosure with the freighter perched on top. The bay door lowered to the ground and ended with a loud clunk, sealing the room from the harsh exterior. Zoey and Perra glanced around the hangar with a discreet curiosity. Purple-suited workers paid them no mind as they darted from task to task. Zoey studied them through a narrowed gaze, knowing damn well that a dangerous operation was afoot.
A series of clunks echoed from the cargo bay.
Henry stood from his seat and squeezed his beefy body down the narrow corridor. He popped into the cargo bay and shook off the discomfort. Zoey and Perra followed him inside, but hung back to watch the scene unfold. The brute stepped over to the airlock and tapped the wall panel. The door slid open, revealing Migg on the outside. Or rather, a terrifying demon scalp with creepy yellow eyes. Migg was of a shorter stature, requiring a leap and scamper to enter the ship. Once inside, he saluted Henry and offered a series of hand gestures akin to a nerdy gang sign. Henry returned the gesture, adding a wink and a chest thump.
Zoey studied the nuke crates, then eyed the wall locker that contained their plasma pistols.
Henry caught the glance and tilted his head, as if to say really? I mean, go ahead and try if you want to. It’s not like we’re transporting a big ass payload of volatile nuclear boom-booms. Oh wait, that’s exactly what we’re doing. Are you stupid or just plain reckless?
Zoey puckered her lips and glanced away.
Migg studied the crate stacks, then waddled over to the open airlock. “Blarga nom bortic!”
Henry stepped aside as an army of red-skinned goblins poured into the ship and surrounded the stacks. One by one, they plucked the crates and dropped them to readied groups who carried them away like a colony of leafcutter ants. The circus-like performance terrified Zoey and Perra. Every toss and catch drew a flinch, cringe, or yelp. Henry stood beside the airlock, watching the acrobatics without the slightest hint of concern. As the final crate exited the ship, Migg offered Henry another nerd salute, then hopped out the airlock.
Perra heeded her weakened knees and collapsed onto a nearby crate. Zoey leaned against the wall and stared at the ceiling, allowing her horrified brain to reboot.
Henry studied the goblin horde as they loaded the crates into transport shuttles. Engines hummed to life as the ships prepped for departure. He fished his comdev from a breast pocket, noted the time, then eyed the distressed Mulgawats. The brute stepped over to the ladies and stared them down with menace and authority.
“Stay here,” he said with an emasculate voice that made Mickey Mouse sound like a hardened criminal.
Zoey and Perra met eyes, then burst into laughter.
“Holy shit fiddles, that is your voice?” Zoey said.
“He sounds like he snorted a tank of helium,” Perra said.
“Dude, you’re one note short of a dog whistle.”
“It’s like he got kicked in the balls and it stuck.”
They howled with laughter, streaming tears down their cheeks. Perra hugged her sides as she fell off the crate. Zoey crumpled to her knees and slapped the floor.
Henry clenched his lips, about-faced, and stepped over to the airlock. He dropped to the ground with a heavy thud and the door slid shut, silencing the cackles. The beast closed his eyes and grumbled before venting a roar of frustration, which came out more as a puppy dog wail. The surrounding goblins stopped in their tracks, then burst into laughter.
Henry facepalmed himself.