It was Iowa, twenty years ago. The wheat fields were golden, the sky aqua -- but JJ knew it was just a dream again. Every night earth returned, luscious with life, vegetation, water. The planet remained in her mind as it once was. The powerful atmosphere blew an ever so gentle breeze through her astral red hair. Her younger self walked knee-deep in the swaying grains. It was hot; the sun shone its midday summer brightest. Her little dress billowed -- she was barefoot, and the seeds itched yet tickled her soles and bare arms. That morning it had rained, and beads of water still trickled from the budding grain and dropped between little JJ's toes. Her feet would get dirty, and her mother would send her to the hose before she was allowed to enter the house.

Just as it had then, a shadow slid over the glistening grains -- not simple wisps of clouds, but a sudden, massive blanket of darkness. The golden sunlight vanished from view. A red glow lit up the afternoon; the horizon streaked with the colors of sunset and wildfires, and a fiery red meteor smoked across the sky. Hot coals rained down on the twelve-year-old, and JJ ducked below the equally defenseless grains. Lava-like fire smothered the ground, and sulfur filled her lungs. The girl tried to turn and crawl home, but the ground was hot and quaked. It was dark, and the burning grains cast the dim, flickering light of a thousand little candles. Iowa submerged into hell. The comet fell to earth, and all that humanity knew of Gaia disappeared.

JJ sat up in her bunk and hit her head on the solid deck plating. There was little room to breathe on the Mother Ship; but better inside the hearty old ship's cramped walls than out in cold, black, oxygenless space. Of course, she had chosen the top bunk.

"Had another nightmare?" Her bunkmate's concerned feminine call came from beneath the top bed.

JJ pulled her hair from its messy bun and wiped the sweat from her chest. Her heavy breathing calmed. Her hair was still red, but shorter and darker. She wasn't flat-chested, but her boobs weren't as big as she would have liked. And of course, earth was still unable to sustain life. Well, it had been when what was left of humanity left ten years ago. How her home planet had fared since, she hadn't heard.

"JJ?"

"As you were, Private," she finally acknowledged. She lay back down and listened to their spaceship rumble. She was a lieutenant in the Combatant Brigade; she needn't give explanations when she wasn't ordered to by her captain. Ten years of space faring and fighting their rival human factions didn't give time to go soft. Not that JJ was ever soft. She would, however, drift off to sleep again if she was left alone. Sleep was necessary to her business, but alarms stirred her again.

"Combat Teams to your drop ships," the intercom echoed. "All Combat Teams to your drop ships."

"That's us!" JJ's bunkmate jumped up and pulled on her gear. Her perfect uniform was on and her backpack ready before JJ slid off her bunk and carelessly tossed away her sleep shirt. The tall, fit Korean was a proper soldier, and as strict as JJ was, sometimes Ina Wu's no-nonsense attitude irked her. But she had little time to be irked, especially now. Her uniform was on and in tiptop shape. Gear? Check. Backpack? Check. She halted at the sight of a third, empty bunk. Their quarters were small for one, inconvenient for two, but their third roommate wasn't interested in bunking with other women.

"Wu, where is Kimmie?"

"I believe it's been Private Lucas for a while," Ina informed.

JJ buttoned her top and locked her gear into place. "If she's not at the drop ship, Captain Westmayer better not chew my ass."

The women jogged down the shaking corridor with other combat specialists in dark spacesuits, helmets, backpacks, and rattling space gear. The team traveled to the weapons lock-up and grabbed their laser guns and rifles. The hefty doors of the Mother Ship beeped its warnings and opened before them.

"Let's move it!" JJ rushed into the Lift-Off Zone. Shuttles and drop ships waited for their personnel as the Mother Ship shook and echoed.

"Zone doors opening in two minutes. All Combatants report to your drop ships," the intercom droned again.

Combatants marched onto their drop ships, and the swift Ina climbed up the rumbling ramp of Drop Ship 69. She strapped herself into her designated seat, but a tall shadow prevented JJ from entering the transport.

"Lieutenant Johnson, I've told you before about the need for timely deployments."

"I know, Captain."

Even though she's sometimes impish and witty, Ina's severe stature and jaw line deceived many. Captain Scott Westmayer, however, tried to look menacing, even if he was warm at heart. However, JJ had known him on earth, so maybe his warmness was for her and her alone. Not that there was time to really know people while hurling through space.

"Jess, you're the best hand-to-hand Combatant in the unit, but a 'lead by example' attitude only goes so far."

JJ wasn't a leader. She was a fighter; but the Combatants needed leaders, and she didn't argue with her superior. At least, not when there was a mission.

"I know, Captain."

"You've got to show more authority, Lieutenant."

"I know. I mean, yes, sir."

A disheveled private approached the ramp, and both her superiors glared. Her uniform was misbuttoned over her lacey bosom, and what gear she did wear was tangled around her shoulders. JJ was a bit jealous of her friend's lust and carefree attitude, but sex doesn't last. Combatants fought for their very existence, and this private wasn't doing her share. It wasn't her fault. Everyone on earth had to choose a side. Kimmie couldn't fly a spaceship and she didn't build nuclear weapons -- she hadn't the brains for those.

"Kimmie Dejonaire." The captain sighed with slight bemusement at the messy blonde, but he entered the drop ship. "Let's go, Private!"

The Mother Ship was old -- scorched on its hull and rather clunky as spaceships go. The Combatants didn't exactly get first choice in spacecraft, but this Mother Ship had been JJ's home since she left earth. It was easy to personify the old, routine broad for still chugging after all these years. The girl's belly opened smoothly, and the Mother Ship's doors released the drop ships one by one. JJ looked out the tiny window beside her seat. Cramped rows of jury-rigged chairs carried the Combatants as the smaller crafts fell into space. Captain Westmayer stood by the controls in the drop ship and braved the descent. Never seemingly disturbed by anything, Ina smoothed her cropped dark hair and snapped on her helmet.

"Who is it, Captain -- Shitters or Nukes?" the man next to her asked.

"We've seen no signs of the Shippers." The Captain stressed the proper nickname, and several of the boys laughed. Westmayer remained business. "We've learned the Nukes may be building more weapons on Asteroid 891X726."

He put the information on the ship's small display screens. The images shook and jumped with the jittery craft. Maps and pictures of the asteroid rotated before the team. All business as well, JJ studied the data.

"That's a pretty big asteroid," she cut in. "Still, all our drop ships won't make the landing."

"It will be tricky, but we have to land as many as possible." Westmayer focused on the material, not his personnel, as was his usual custom. "Your objective when we land is to take their weapons facility by any means necessary."

He pointed to the proposed facility's location, but the drop ship's screens flickered.

"You mean if we land." Kimmie found her headgear and held on to her jiggling helmet. Their tiny ship shook more as it descended nearer the asteroid.

"When we land," the captain repeated, "if it cannot be taken, we will abort for an aerial assault."

JJ frowned. "Why not an air raid first? Our lasers were up to 87 percent. The Mother Ship could be done before we --"

"Those are my orders, Lieutenant." Westmayer turned away from her and fiddled with the controls.

A hearty Latino man looked squashed in the locked chair beside Kimmie. "What's going to stop the Nukes from releasing those pretty little biohazards they like?"

"Shut it, Miguel," Ina snickered. "You're always afraid a biological weapon is going to ruin your libido."

"The sergeant has a point," JJ intervened, still perplexed at the unnecessary risk. "The asteroid could be flooded now. What guarantee do we have?"

"I can give none." Westmayer was grim. "They've used chemicals against us in the past. You all have your current inoculations."

"We're five years behind them!" Kimmie grumbled to Miguel.

If Westmayer heard, he didn't let on. "Take them by surprise and get to that facility before the Nukes can push any buttons. Good luck."

"Don't lay it on all at once." Miguel crossed himself.

The drop ships fired their thrusters and descended slowly and evenly toward the asteroid. JJ felt the rumbles and quakes, but she was used to it. When they first took to spaceflight, they all became ill and nauseous ascending or descending -- every time a ship shook in fact. She turned from the tiny window and looked over her team. This was old hat now. Some of them even slept, but no one turned green.

"Check your comms," she ordered as she adjusted her headset. Already there was ship's chatter.

"Drop Ship 73, you're coming in too fast!" the speakers cried.

A drop ship zoomed passed the others and skidded over the rocky terrain. It deflected off a rough peak and crashed onto the asteroid's abysmal surface. JJ blinked at the brief flashes outside her window. Pieces of hot metal slammed against the other drop ships, and Kimmie jumped at the echoes and clangs. More drop ships overshot the asteroid.

"57 shorten your thrusts," another ship hailed.

"Drop Ship 34, we're trying to circle back for another go."

"Negative," Captain Westmayer ordered. He looked at the fritzing monitors and sensors. "Stay off as reinforcements. 41, 83, you're on call as well."

"What number are we again?" Miguel turned to Kimmie.

"Ahem, Drop Ship 69."

"Shit."

Chapter Two

The drop ships neared the rocky surface and inched toward the ground. Landing gear sprung forth, but 69 hit a rock outcrop and jerked into the air.

"Shit!" Miguel yelled again. Ina closed her eyes, but the sleepless JJ didn't waver. It wouldn't be pretty, but they'd land.

The drop ship slammed onto the asteroid and skidded into the wasteland's dirt. The craft smoked, but the captain held tight. The small ship sped to a rough stop. It was stupid, dangerous, yet somehow fun; the perfect opportunity for JJ's sarcasms.

"And we have another happy landing!" She smiled and locked down her helmet.

The drop ships' hatches fizzed one after another, and the geared-up teams filed onto the hard terrain. JJ surveyed the battlefield with her rifle ready. She knew the ins and outs of all the Combatant weapons, but every single Combatant was just that: a hand-to-hand, lean, mean, fighting and kick-ass weapon. But of course, in situations like these, weapons from a distance were best.

"We made a noisy entrance. Someone should be here to greet us."

"Don't jinx it." Ina followed her.

"How's your scanner read, Sergeant?" JJ called Miguel forward.

The team tinker and engineer, he pulled out his scanning equipment as ordered. "We're all accounted for, so far. No additional signals or pathogens."

"The Nukes wouldn't need any pathogens here," Ina said. "Throw a rock and crack our face shields, why don't you?"

"I didn't come all this way to suffocate," Kimmie grumbled and turned on her helmet's lights. Indeed the entire environment was deadly. Dark, no atmosphere, and rough terrain as far as the dim combat headlights could show. They marched on from the landing area, but JJ inched ahead of her crew. When she stopped, the column halted behind her. She motioned, and the team turned to the left with her. Westmayer was a capable commander in league with the other Mother Ship captains. Their fleet was small. While the bigwigs sat in comfort, she led her shipmates into battle. It was how she got as far as she did. She fought, and fought well. What else was there to do? JJ looked at the digital maps lighting up her hand-held gear.

"The facility is this way." She climbed over a pile of natural rubble and the Combatants followed. They marched over the tough terrain as she continuously eyed her hand-held diagram. Stones slid under their feet, and her stride lowered. "It feels like we're descending."

"Let me risk a little more power." Miguel brightened the lights on his helmet and surveyed the area. "It looks like a crater rim there. We must be near the middle of the hole now."

"I've seen one too many crater holes." JJ pocketed her device. "This intel is wrong."

"Asteroids are constantly changing," Kimmie contested.

"Good for asteroids." She looked toward the microphone inside her helmet. "Johnson to Westmayer, do you copy?"

"I've got something!" Miguel raised his arm and the column trudged idle again. "Look, heat signatures: 98.6."

"Us?" JJ turned to him.

"Are we moving?"

"Fuck!" she exclaimed. "Ambush!"

Lights beamed from the crater rim and pulse weapons blazed around the trapped Combatants. She knew it! It hadn't felt right. She knew it was absurd, and now it was too late.

"Take cover!"

High-tech colored lasers blasted all around. The unit fell to the ground one by one -- some as ordered, others victims of the Nuke's carefully laid plains. JJ flattened herself on the ground, but in the colorful firelight, she saw Miguel collapse next to her.

"Sergeant!" she called to him. "Miguel!"

JJ crawled through the crowded crater basin, careful of enemy fire and the jagged rocks. Such a perfect setup! The sharp ground ripped the outer layer of her sturdy but not foolproof spacesuit. "Shit!" She increased the speed of her spider-like crawl. She fumbled past her still comrades, unsure of the direction she crawled. "Johnson to Westmayer, come in!"

There was no time to look at her data; not that it was accurate enough to help anyway. JJ scrambled to get clear. Once out of the shoot-out, she could fix her suit and run back to the drop ships.

"Any drop ship, please respond."

Were the drop ships ambushed as well? Did they prep for rescue, as was procedure?

"Shit." She approached the edge of the crater and looked back at the Nukes. They closed in to the crater and finished off any twitching Combatants.

"Any Combatant, respond." It seemed only she had her wits about her. JJ rolled across the crusted crater's edge. The gravel crumbled beneath her as she rolled down the sharp terrain. She groaned and screamed at the rocks sticking her and tearing her suit. Sharp pebbles reached her skin and scraped her elbows. Blood and dirt marred the rustling fabric.

"Oh! Ow! Fuck!"

Jagged jabs and hard rocks punctured through the space gear one fizz and pop after another. JJ gasped and slowed her tortured descent. She rolled once more and smashed her face shield against a rock.

She grasped for air and felt her body tighten with the lack of oxygen. She must move, but it was so difficult. Did she move or merely think her labored limbs worked as she wanted? Her vision blurred, but the temporary metal structure of the Nuke's weapons facility was before her. Some mirage! The determined lieutenant ran, crawled, stumbled and fought the elements to reach the enemy shelter. Really she should be dead. Did the Nukes alter the atmosphere or release one of their precious pathogens? She banged on the door and slammed the locking panel. The controls broke, and the door slipped open with a whoosh of air. She collapsed inside and fumbled for an internal key to close the door. It couldn't close fast enough!

She pulled off her broken helmet and shook bits of glass, plastic and rock from her hair. The red head was crusted with blood, and dirty cuts littered her forehead.

"Shit." She peeled off the irreplaceable but ruined spacesuit. What good was the crappy thing to her now? Her regular uniform was also ripped and bloody, and her gun was lost. All her equipment was gone. JJ sighed.

"How am I going to get back to the drop ships?"

She picked up her helmet and whispered into the transmitter. Once again, she pleaded with her silent friends -- nay family. Her real family was buried on earth. Her team was all she had.

"Captain, do you copy? Lieutenant Johnson to Captain Westmayer, please respond."

She bit her urge to curse and flung the helmet away.

"I'll just have to do things myself." She tiptoed down the enemy's dim and plain hallway. Most likely her team was slaughtered. Perhaps the drop ships were destroyed. Maybe even the Mother Ship was under attack and losing against the newer Nuke ships. If that was the case, JJ could at least finish her mission. Hell, what else was there to do?

The facility had looked small on the outside. Temporary, as most of the Nuke testing labs were. Surely there was a command area. She had fought similar battles before; dark turns, corridors, but no doors today. Was all the Nuke magic underground? She looked at the patterns under her boots. Seamless! All these hallways looked the same!

"Damn."

She found a corner and slid to the floor. She swore she walked in a complete circle, but she had yet to encounter her discarded spacesuit again. She felt weak and examined her cut arm. She must have lost some blood, but the cuts were crusted with dirt and dried blood now. If only she could scan herself for infection!

The whoosh of the asteroid's vacuum echoed again, and JJ heard the door seal shut. She closed her eyes then stood and braced herself. If the mission was indeed a trap, then the tin can she was in was probably empty. At least she could take this Nuke before he took her. Combatants had a reputation for their fierce hand-to-hand skill, and she was the best. She would let this Nuke know it. Clothes rustled, and the sound of a slow, long zipper echoed through the building. She heard her spent suit tossed aside again and her helmet echoed away. The cracked headpiece skidded down the tin corridor past her.

"Hello?" a cheeky man's voice called. He no doubt enjoyed the situation, stupid Nuke. "I know we have a visitor. Who could it be?"

Footsteps came closer. Not too obvious to some, but JJ had a trained ear. The man must be tall, not heavy, but built. Weight lay behind his steps.

"Come and play with me, please?"

JJ leaped around the corner. Her boot was high and her sharp kick struck the Nuke in the nose. He sprawled on the floor and covered his face as she kicked his gun away.

"Well, since you insist." She smiled, determined to enjoy this last bout; but her enemy kicked away her ankles.

"Normally, I'd find this very cute." He wrestled with her on the floor, but she was by no means easy to pin. "But I just want to get off this rock ASAP."

"I feel the same way." She elbowed him. She didn't wish to converse, just insult. "About leaving I mean."

"Feisty!" He twisted her arm as she struggled against him. When was the last time she was this close to a man? Oh yes, she had roughed him up, too! The Nuke fluttered in her ear again. "Whoa. Easy there, Little Tiger."

"I'm a dog person." JJ kicked her contester away, then stood and faced him. He was on his feet, ready as well. She punched and kicked in her personal combinations, but the Nuke was no slouch, actually. He blocked her blows, caught her foot and threw her to the hard floor. The floor hurt. She recalled her outdoor ordeal and briefly entertained the notion that she wasn't in fighting condition. The Nuke stood above her, his buzzed head and muscular physique ready for anything. He fought well, for a Nuke. She must be unwell if she could admit that!

"As much as I don't like to hit a woman, I hate the sight of my own blood more." He wiped the blood from his nose, and JJ came toward him again. She would go on, just to shut him up. Unfortunately, he stuck to his words, and the taunting Nuke blocked most of her crosses and jabs. "Now I'm having fun!"

"Are you really?" She landed a perfect cut to his chin, and her fighting partner fell to the floor. She slid for his gun, but he jumped on her. He was heavy, yet his style held a slightly mocking tone. Why must he toy with her so? She clenched the laser in her hand, rolled onto her back, and pointed the Nuke gun. The man straddled her and pinned her to the ground, but he kept his distance from his gun. He perched below her hips and weighed her down, yet he put up his hands in surrender.

"Still having fun?" JJ winked.

"Johnson!"

He was upside down from her perspective, but it was Captain Westmayer all right. He looked down at her, trying to look menacing again. "Lower the weapon, Jess," he ordered. "Lieutenant Rubelli won't hurt you."

The Nuke stood, smiled and extended his hand. "That would be me." He winked.

JJ stood, but kept the gun poised. She looked between the Nuke and her commanding officer. "Captain, I think I'm entitled to an explanation, sir."

"You are, Lieutenant, you and the rest of the unit." He took the gun from her and squeezed her shoulder. "Stun guns, Jess. We'll meet tomorrow, 0800. I'll fill you in on the details then. Suffice to say, the Nukes are now our friends."

Chapter Three

The Mother Ship drifted slowly near the Nuke's asteroid, safe and sound, but Lieutenant Rubelli did not feel so safe and sound. He was still a Nuke, after all, and he suspected it would be a long time before any of these Combatants got over it, especially the feisty Lieutenant Johnson. He knew of the bad history between their two factions. To some of the Combatants, it appeared their fighting prowess was as sacred as a religion. That's fine for them, he supposed, but it didn't really matter one way or the other to him. He was good at building weapons and had a brain to match his smile; this was what was important to Rub. The Alliance wasn't up to him, so he didn't understand the personal animosity he had received since coming on the Mother Ship. The hostility surprised him, and he wanted to show he was A-okay. But why should he care what became of the Combatants? He'd seen a few women he'd like to bag, plain and simple. These scary, rough and brutal women kind of turned him on. Beyond that, he couldn't care less about this Alliance. He was here for the adventure and the experience, wherever that took him. Pro Nuke, Anti Shitter, or peace tied with Combatants -- it was all the same so long as his scrotum was still there at the end of the day.

He waited outside the ship's conference room with his newfound friend -- the obviously ambiguous Sergeant Rafael. He was hardly a friend, actually; in fact, he seemed cordial at best. Rub didn't have time to waste on people with bugs up their asses, but it seemed all the Combatants had an attitude. He observed the finicky sergeant as he fiddled with his fine uniform suit. It was black and adorned with delicately stitched Combatant patches and emblems. He carried a skilled physique, like the dominatrix Asian woman Rub had seen briefly, but this sergeant also seemed naturally skittish. Being here with a Nuke probably didn't help matters, and his nervousness made the usually suave Rub think of his handsome appearance. He was tanned somehow in space, always a good thing compared to the usually pale space-faring personnel he knew. He had that saucy Mediterranean skin; what could he do? The A-line of his broad shoulders and uniform was exceptional, but Rub became aware of the sergeant's observation of him. He cleared his throat and clasped his hands behind his back. He put his chilled exterior forth, even though this ship was looking more and more like the lion's den.

"Relax, Pedro." He jabbed him on the shoulder gently, but the sergeant brushed his touch off his uniform. Now he cleared his throat. Prick.

"It's Staff Sergeant Miguel Carlos Santiago Rafael."

"Lieutenant Jason Rubelli." He offered his hand casually, as if there was never anything but friendship and allegiance between Combatants and Nukes. Thus far, it seemed he was the only one making an effort here. What was wrong with these people? "My friends call me Rub."

"I'm sure."

Miguel denied his handshake, and it pissed Rub off. He didn't get angry often, even in a good fight his adrenaline took over before anger. He was a laid-back, sexy kind of guy; easy come, easy go. His uniform wasn't so different from this or any other Combatant's dress. It was dark blue with shiny buttons he was very vain about and keen to keep polished. He didn't like to work more than he had to, but if it accented his hotness, it was no effort. Perhaps it was his perfect buzz cut that gave away his self-centered attitude, but that was no reason to deny a good shake. Fuck him, then. His interests weren't in Combatant men, after all.

The conference room doors slid open, and Captain Westmayer joined them. At least he seemed to have some sense of ally about him. He and he alone, it seemed.

"It's nice to see everyone getting along," he hoped in what he said, for the captain's pitch noticeably changed. It was what he wished for, not what he saw. "Where's Jess?"

"We're waiting on her?" Rub rolled his eyes. Westmayer's tone with him had been apologetic when he came aboard. Thus far, the captain was the only one who didn't treat him as an enemy. If the Combatants treated him like an ass, Rub had no problem giving it back in return. The captain had every reason to be proper over this Alliance, but he was under no such obligations. Sure he enjoyed his planned part in securing Lieutenant Johnson on the asteroid -- all that good, old-fashioned wrestling and copping a feel -- but she had been bitchy enough for her entire faction. Did the woman leave an aftertaste of animosity with most people? She would take getting used to, there was no doubt. Yet in his brief encounter with the red-haired lieutenant, he had to admit she was a good fighter. She kept up with him, after all. She was probably a good officer, a well-admired leader among the Combatants. Captain Westmayer certainly held her in high regard, whether she knew it or not. If she knew it maybe she wouldn't be such a bitch. Just his luck the hottest lady here was also evil.

"JJ will be here, Captain," Miguel assured, but again Rub rolled his eyes. Who cares?

The clang of high-heeled shoes echoed down the corridor, and soon enough, Lieutenant Johnson approached the trio. Rub thought she looked harsh and formal enough in her GI pants and hard ponytail, but this must have been an occasion! Her hair was clean, neat and slicked back in a twist. She wore her black dress uniform, buttoned perfectly from the collar to her knee-grazing hem. Medals adorned her left breast, and her hat remained tucked perfectly under her arm. The lieutenant's only blights were the cuts across her forehead and a swollen lip courtesy of him -- if he did say so himself. He felt some pride in marring her perfect display, even though his nose was swollen, too; a small slight on his otherwise exquisite appearance.

"Here we go, finally." He rolled his eyes more, but glanced back at JJ. She was a woman, after all, and Rub put on his air of cheeky charm. It worked on every other woman, what was so special about her?

"Good morning, Captain, Miguel, and you."

Ouch! She was one tough cookie, but that wouldn't deter his suave charm.

"Call me Rub, JJ."

"It's Lieutenant Johnson."

He smiled and looked down at the rigid seams of her hose. Where he disliked the cold shoulder he had received from other Combatants, he enjoyed pissing this one off. He probably shouldn't play the sexual card yet, but she was behaving like a bitch in a man's world. It was hot.

"Is that what took you so long? It's good to know you clean up nice."

"You don't."

Double ouch! Captain Westmayer sighed and entered the conference room. So much for your Alliance, dude; at least Rub had tried, unlike some. JJ followed the captain and sat on the Combatant side of the U-shaped table. Heaven forbid they have co-ed seating! Miguel sat next to JJ, and Rub took his place beside a tall, dark man waiting in the Nuke's corner: his commander, Colonel Gauthier. Now here was a man he could root for. Subtle, knows his business; he won't put up with this sassy JJ, no matter how long that seam on her hose is.

"Colonel Gauthier, Lieutenant Rubelli of the Nuclear Division," Westmayer stood inside the table and addressed his guests. "Thank you for coming aboard. Lady and Gentlemen, we are allied."

He sat, and the solid Colonel Gauthier rose. Also dressed in his finest and adorned with ribbons, the colonel might have been a fine soldier in his day, made even finer by the ugly circumstances of the comet. JJ shifted beside Miguel before his presentation even began, and Rub unconsciously squinted across the table. Miguel looked at her also, but Rub saw her sight line fall upon him. To piss her off, he took yet another gander beneath the table at her rustling stockings. He got a cheap thrill, and it irked her greatly. It was a win-win situation. Gauthier sighed, and Rub paid attention to his superior. Yeah, they were supposed to be friends, weren't they?

"Captain, we've had this Alliance in the pipeline for some time, but I can tell Lieutenant Johnson needs an explanation."

JJ straightened and turned to Westmayer. Was this whole meeting to be about her and her feminine sensibilities against this plan? Rub wasn't sure if he should be fresh or not, so he made the difficult decision to be quiet, unlike her.

"May I speak freely, sir?"

"By all means, Lieutenant, whatever you say isn't going to scare them away," Westmayer braved. Ha! He'd love to control her on this if he could, even though Rub knew he couldn't control this subordinate with a carrot on a stick.

She remained collected before Colonel Gauthier, and Rub wondered if she was ever anything but collected.

"You can't expect me to change overnight. We're lucky most of the unit only suffered bumps and bruises from your stun weapons. Two, however, did die, and unfortunately 17 people were on that crashed drop ship. I'm going to weigh this Alliance on those people."

"Not to mention the thousands of Combatants killed on Isosceles due to your chemical weapons," Miguel supported.

Ew ... Rub had heard this argument before. Nukes had once been with Combatants against the Shippers. The high-tech shipbuilders had abandoned both factions on earth, but once the leftovers made it to the nearest inhabited planet, the Nukes turned too. It was survival of the fittest, bro. Was she going to bring up all that old drivel? He didn't personally drop any of those bombs, so why should he take the heat now?

"Part of this Alliance is accepting responsibility for our actions," Gauthier admitted. He and Westmayer were like souls, each desperate to do well for their crews. It was nice in theory, but the application wasn't going so well. "The comet that ruined earth was beyond our control, but the war and factions we have caused can be rectified here and now."

JJ put her elbows on the table. "As much as I dislike the past, I fail to see the mutual benefits here."

Come on! Rub scoffed to himself, but felt her eyes on him again. Would they ever get to the real business of this merger? Gauthier paced inside the divided table. "Our common enemy is a fine place to start."

"My enemy's enemy is my friend?" Miguel crossed his arms. "It's that simple, Captain?"

"The rest of the Mother Ships are in concordance with this Alliance. They will rendezvous with us before Isosceles. A base, new weapons, supplies. Our leadership wants to hear the Nukes' case."

"Isosceles?" JJ crossed her arms, too. "Those planetary aspirations again, Captain?"

"Isosceles isn't a bountiful planet -- naturally, or since our weapons altered the terrain. We were wrong to put out those Combatants who had come there," the Colonel reiterated. "But it is a home. It's ground, not a ship, Lieutenant. Sergeant, your superiors are tired of running."

"Isosceles?" she repeated in disbelief. Everything she said gritted against Rub's ears. Each protest cut down her attractiveness. She was hot, of course, but her stubbornness and ruthless attitude made her ugly and unlikable at the same time. "That triangular continent can't sustain cacti."

She let the room fall silent, but couldn't resist those stubborn tendencies.

"What's the catch?"

JJ wasn't all looks, but her voice was getting a little irritating. Gauthier straightened his old school brown jacket and leaned on the table, latently showing off the stars that adorned his collar. So, he too was aware that this woman was no diplomat!

"Isosceles is running out of resources, but our intelligence has discovered a new planet within five light years. It's bigger than earth and capable of sustaining us all."

"It's already inhabited." Miguel burst the bubble. "Isn't it?"

Rub picked this inopportune time to speak up, knowing it would aggravate their precious JJ. Indeed, he enjoyed that his very breath bothered her, and he was going to use it. He gave this buddy system a try, now he wanted to make her life hell. It was only fair.

"Yes," he smiled. "By the Shippers."

JJ's heels boomed from the conference room, but Captain Westmayer followed undeterred. Two hours of particulars with the Nukes. Ugh!

"Jess, wait."

She turned on her heel and confronted her captain. How could he? How dare he!

"You could have told me, Scott. Everything I know has been turned upside down and I'm hearing why from them."

"I couldn't tell you because you wouldn't have gone on the mission. Nukes have intelligence, so do the Shippers. It needed to look real. Shippers would double their advances if they knew we combined against them to take their planet. Besides, it's not like your life hasn't been turned upside down before."

"Don't say by the comet, Scott." She almost turned away, but stepped closer to him. If he was going to use history, so could she. "Have you forgotten what the Nukes did? They got to Isosceles first -- deflected everybody with their bombs and toys. They turned the Shippers away and stuck us on the Isosceles tundra -- after they killed half of us with their engineered viruses!"

Westmayer sighed. "This isn't about any ethical debates. We can't go over old ground --"

"Isosceles is old ground! Isosceles dreams are as old as earth. Let's try there again. Oh, wait!"

"Don't play on words with me!" He wasn't so much angry as passionate. But why be passionate about this? "You don't have a choice in this, Jess. Think of it as one last mission before you retire. We can finish this here and now. No Shippers, no Nukes, not even Combatants. We'll just be people going home, to a real home, Lieutenant, not a bunk."

"I can't do it, Captain." She backed away. "Shippers just made off with the choice ships, but Nukes! They've always used the comet for their own agenda. I don't want to work with any Nukes. I don't want to be on the same ship with them. I can't. I won't even be in the same room with them!"

She sprinted away from the captain before he could reprimand her, as she knew he would like to.

The Mother Ship zoomed toward Isosceles, unstopped by JJ's protests. Ina and Kimmie crowded onto the latter's bunk and looked out the ship's window. They were too excited. Well, Kimmie was. Ina didn't get so outwardly jovial, ever. JJ, of course, was neither excited nor jovial. She laid on her top bunk with a book in her hands and a pillow under her neck, indignant to the gawking. It was no loss to her.

"It doesn't look like I remember," Kimmie squinted. She and Ina had been part of the Combatant group cast off by the Nukes. When their Mother Ship was destroyed, Captain Westmayer took them in -- and JJ had been stuck with them ever since. Make no mistake about his kindness, but the captain often turned his nose up to the ditzy Kimmie, acting superior in personality and rank. JJ glanced casually at her roommates as they watched the fast approaching planet.

Kimmie pouted. "It's just a brown and blue speckled ball."

"We didn't see this side of the planet," Ina observed. "We're going to Nuketown, and Isosceles never claimed to be as prosperous as earth was."

"I think I see it!" Kimmie pointed against the tempered window. "Isosceles!"

The wispy clouds in the planet's atmosphere parted beneath the incoming ship, and the sharp triangular landmass widened quickly with their descent. Ina craned with Kimmie to see it.

"Oh, yes. It's a stupid name though. The two sides aren't exactly equal. Nor are our human factions equal."

"What?" Kimmie frowned. None of them really liked it when Ina gave her slight air of intelligence. "Land can't be equal. Not if it's natural, anyway."

"Oh, never mind."

"Kimmie, Ina." JJ put her eyes on the page before her as the women turned. "Did I tell you how glad I am that your face shields weren't shattered on that asteroid?"

She knew it was harsh, but they should understand her sarcasm by now. Kimmie giggled, but Ina smiled. She was always ready to retaliate. "Only every time we mention Nukes."

The svelte Korean climbed toward JJ's bunk and poked her head over the bed. Kimmie had no love for words. Her talent for toying with people -- well, toying with men expressly -- lay elsewhere. Ina, however, was more interested in herself than the people around her -- unless she could spout moral wisdom.

"How long do you intend to stay here?"

"I'm staying here for as long as the Nukes are infiltrating our ship."

"Infiltrating?" Kimmie slouched in her bed and tossed a plastic plate to the floor. "Two weeks' worth of doggie bags and crumbs are infiltrating my side of the room."

"You can bunk with Private Lucas if you like." JJ turned her page.

"I can really?"

She knew Kimmie's thoughts about having a steady man on board. Not a relationship per se, for relationships meant obligations to each other. Considering their warring ways, obligations weren't very good, JJ had to agree. She finally gave them her true attention and put the book on her lap. "No, Private, not really, for not only am I your superior, but you are my friends."

She sat up. "You're supposed to help me, stick by me. And that includes bringing doggie bags from the mess."

JJ threw an empty bag at Kimmie, but Ina ducked and opened her footlocker. She always threw things when she was angry; the potential to break things felt good. Over the years, however, Ina had mastered the art of ducking and changing the subject.

"Yes, we are your friends." She searched through the military issues and pulled out a tiny red dress. JJ suspected the Asian did have a wild streak; she just didn't know who saw it. "That's why we are taking you to Blast -- Nuketown's hot spot will change your ways."

"There's nothing like music and anonymous men to revel in for a while!" Kimmie added her cheer as Ina held out the dress. It looked small, but JJ did have a figure under her uniform. Kimmie tried to convince her with her wide eyes and bright smile. It worked on all men, so Kimmie said, but JJ merely squinted.

"Forget it." She returned to her book.

Chapter Four

JJ closed her book and looked at her empty quarters. She had read it before when she was younger, but now the grammar was beneath her. Still, it had served its purpose in avoiding her roommates. Now, the quarters seemed so peaceful, so silent. There were no ornery bunkmates -- much less Nukes -- to contend with. Was the entire ship devoid of personnel? Had they all forgiven so easily? She slid off her bunk and slouched onto Kimmie's bed before the window. Carefully, though. Who knew what or whom Kimmie did on her bed when she and Ina weren't around. She stared at Isosceles below and watched the silver blips of coming and going Nuke ships. They reflected and flickered briefly, then disappeared toward the ground or under the Mother Ship. They were technological fools. It wasn't her animosity that could jeopardize an alliance -- although everyone she knew tried to convince her of her stubbornness. No, it was the Nukes' penchant for dirty bombs and itchy trigger fingers that would be the Combatants' undoing.

The most idealistic part of her wanted an Alliance, really, but the reality of such a union and the notion of a peaceful home planet were simply not attainable. They survived. They were fortunate to have done that since the comet. Why change things now? She turned away from the window, let them play and mingle and learn more about the Nukes than was necessary. She knew all she needed to know. Nevertheless, the little red dress lay on Ina's bed with matching shoes waiting beneath. The red was the perfect hue for JJ's hair and light tone. Damn Ina.

Rub waited with Captain Westmayer and Colonel Gauthier by the Nuke's small but streamlined transport in the Mother Ship's Lift-Off Zone. Once Rub had met the very hot and charming Kimmie Dejonaire, Miguel warmed to him as well. Most of the Combatants had relaxed on their flight to Isosceles -- except for one. Well, two, but he suspected Private Wu never thawed. The zone's doors parted as Kimmie and Ina strutted toward him in their sexiest getups; satin and tiny, hair vamoosed -- Rub noticed these things. Friendly or iced, it was still hawt. Miguel hurried behind them, equally dressed for a night on the town. His style was a little flashy for Rub's tastes. He didn't have to show his dick size on the outside. It showed in his smile and charm.

"How do I look?" Kimmie asked her friends.

"Not as good as me," Ina chuckled. She did look phenomenal out of uniform, if a bit scary. She was taller than Miguel and probably always intimidated him. Ha!

"Where's JJ?" Miguel asked.

Yes, where was the anti-Nuke who spent all her time avoiding Rub? A little socializing would do her good; all the other Combatants were dressed to the hilt and ready to part-ee! He wanted an opportunity to piss off JJ, but he didn't really expect her to join them. His duty to pilot the transport almost assured it.

"She's pouting, of course," Kimmie puckered her lips in mock imitation. She stopped beside Captain Westmayer and Colonel Gauthier. Her breasts had entered the Lift-Off Zone before she did, and Rub was amazed by her ability to not give everything away when she hiked into the Nuke shuttle before the men. Did all the Combatant women have such long legs?

"She'll change her mind." Ina followed with her toned legs and high shoes. Rub briefly entertained the notion of being between her taut and muscular legs, but he let the idea pass. She could probably crush him if she so chose.

He entered the transport after the ladies. They weren't as gifted in aviation as they were with weapons, but the Nukes had updated their Shipper castoffs better than the patchwork Mother Ships. Yes, Rub was quite the flyboy. Weapons master, graceful pilot; he could do it all. In their lifestyle one had to be well rounded and multi-talented. Now he had a little something to impress these Combatants. Miguel entered the tiny craft with the commanders and closed the hatch.

"Welcome aboard." Colonel Gauthier was not above noticing the women's long, toned legs in the cramped craft, either. Rub smiled as he climbed into the pilot's seat. A little lovin' goes a long way in these alliances.

"Buckle up." He glanced over his shoulder at the Combatants. Now was the time to charm the women. "My piloting may disrupt your feminine sensibilities."

"No problem." Miguel was closest to him and winked. Now, Rub was probably a prick, he knew it. He was the kind of guy who had to know his dick was bigger before he'd associate with a guy. He thought Miguel knew this, but apparently, even men found him cute. That wasn't his fault, was it?

"Right." Rub tilted his head in contemplation and then fired up the controls. So, Miguel was gay and Ina was evil. That narrowed his possibilities considerably.