Jockey To The Stars
In heaven there are no walls. Bishop wished not for the last time that held true under his present circumstances. Every bone is his body hurt and despite his best efforts to shove the pain to a back corner of his mind his body let continued to tell him he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. Neurons fired and pain receptors told him without his having to look that his ribs were broken. He had been stripped to his undershirt and plastic straps held him down to a medical exam table. He would scream to be released but there wasn't enough air in his lungs to allow him to make a sound.
Bishop thought back to how he might have ended up in this condition, and wondered if the sheer adrenaline he had been running on nonstop for the last three weeks, perhaps had blinded him to his current condition. Fighting off temporal distortion was one thing, fighting off the invasion of Shi'ar space by the Uncreated/Phalanx was another matter. We all was said down, the dust settled, the Phalanx were defeated, but he was trapped on the other side of temporal flux.
In the back of his mind, his subconscious told him: `This sort of thing pretty much summed up his life. "You would think I would become accustomed to that sort of thing, now I why do I feel like someone knocked a small hill on top of me?" he muttered aloud.
A woman' face hovered in his immediate line of sight, the planes of her face all sharp angles and up turned cheekbones. He knew that face, but the either his disoriented state or fatigue would or the sedative caused his memory to come up blank. "Bishop," the woman said, stepping around the exam table and squatting down beside to take his left hand in hers. "I have good news and bad news. Which do you want first?"
"Am I dying?" Tell me the news, and I'll judge for myself whether or not it's good or bad news," he replied, starting to feel more like himself. "Is it really necessary to have me strapped down like this?"
"Typical male: stubborn, completely ignorant of what is good for you," the woman muttered in a tone of mingled fondness and exasperation. "Someone in your condition should not be moved. I respect a fellow warrior who has fought a battle and immediately wishes to jump out and battle some more,,,,:"
"I am sensing a dramatic pause here." Bishop coughed, bringing up a glob of spittle and phlegm. "You look familiar. Wait, don't tell me, Deathbird right, regent of the Kree for your sister, Majestrix Lilandra of the Shi'ar."
"Your ability for recall has not been impaired, I see," the woman smiled, a narrow thinning of her bloodless lips. "I no longer wish to be regent, it is too much like real work.
"Must be a real burden, to be an administrator I mean," Bishop replied.
"The medic aboard tells me you should not be moved for at least another couple of days. Don't worry, my darling," the woman purred, and if he didn't know already the sound of Deathbird purring was the sound made by a lioness when it was about to pounce on its prey. `Must be something either about her or Shi'ar physiology," he thought to himself and concentrated on getting a response from his bound, tensing his muscles for anything she might try that would threaten.
"Someone get me out of here! Stat! I'm trapped with a crazy woman. Now I know how that guy from "Misery" felt." Bishop coughed. "Unstrap me from this contraption, woman!"
"Now, now, calm down. There's no reason to get yourself all worked into a lather. Let Deathbird take good care of you."
"That is what I am worried about."
The medic appeared with a tray of sedatives , the bottles and the devices for administering to the patient, and suddenly, without a logical reason to point to, Bishop suddenly did not want any drugs to enter his system. Grunting and twisting his body into a better angle, Bishop knocked the tray and the medic to the floor of the room.
"I'm better, let me out here. Now." I don't think you are telling me the truth woman, I think you wouldn't the truth it jumped and bit you on the nose. Not get me out of this thing."
"You are hardly in a position to dictate terms to Me, Earther!" Deathbird shrieked.
"Very well, "Bishop curled his lip, "Please get me out of here."
"As you wish," she replied. Her head title to one side, a swift darting signal of one hand, she commanded the medic to unbind the restraints and help Bishop back to his feet. "You will feel some discomfort at first."
"No kidding," Bishop swore, as his legs protest the sudden change in movement and Bishop felt his balance about to crumble.
"I am sorry to have had to resort to such measures, but it was the only way I could be certain." Deathbird trailed the tips of her long nails through the strands of her lavender colored hair, small tendrils clinging to the sharp tips.
"Certain of what?" Bishop, his curiosity aroused.
"That you were not paralyzed from the waist down. Resorting to such a clumsy and obvious subterfuge to keep you here is something I would do in the old days." My sister would have a field day."
"Not that I care, but why?" Bishop flexed the muscles of his shoulders in a smooth shrug and felt an invisible weight lift from his massive shoulders that everything seemed to be back in working order, the other woman's claims about the extent of his injuries a fading concern.
"I need your help? I deliberately used the extent of the injuries you sustained in the battle with our foes to keep you here," she replied.
"I'm not going to like this, am I?"
"Shall we discuss our further course of action somewhere more comfortable than the medical bay?" invited Deathbird.
The chamber they entered was spacious, high ceilings and the recessed curved walls that was so much admired throughout the Shi'ar Empire. The walls had been draped in folds of maroon cloth and seating and reclining furniture had been scattered at random intervals in the available floor space. Bishop couldn't say much for the alien woman's interior design sensibilities, but that was the least of his worries.
He took a seat and waited for her to walk over to a cabinet that held various glasses and bottles of liquor. It was taking her an incessant amount of time to choose a beverage. She finally selected one in a hand-blown container with a cork stopper and poured it into a long- stemmed glass. Without turning around she offered him a drink "Water, only."
"As you wish."
"Let's get to the heart of the matter. You've been holding out on me, and I want to know everything about this situation before we proceed any farther," Bishop demanded, arms folded over his massive chest. He felt a little disoriented, but that could be as much as the time lapse as whatever drugs she had used to keep sedated.
"Are you certain you won't try some of this fine vintage. It's from my own private stock," she replied, not outwardly perturbed by his demanding or his bellicose attitude.
Bishop lurched to his feet and within a heartbeat had covered the distance, and with a back swipe of his hand, knocked the glass out of her hand. The glass shattered on impact, the ivory colored liquid spreading in a puddle on the carpeting. "Quite sure. Not tell me what I want to know."
"I am impressed, Earther. Most of my subjects, and that includes my sniveling sister would be too intimidated to even try that with me."
"I know your reputation, Deathbird, and as much as my thinking may have been influence by the reports of others, you did help against the Uncreated, so I have decided to give you the benefit of the doubt."
"As one warrior to another, I appreciate that." Deathbird smiled a crooked smile, the toe of her left boot digging at the spreading puddle on the carpet under her feet. "Very well. You already know that with the assistance of your compatriots in the X-Men the Phalanx were defeated before they were able to attack the Shi'ar Throneworld."
"I know that part."
"If you will be patient I will explain what happened after that. Transportation was provided so that the X-MEN could return to their own universe. Unfortunately the ship apparently detonated while in transit,; there were no survivors. I was able to get you out and aboard my own private spaceship. You were critically injured. I apologize for misleading you, but at that instant I saw I had no choice."
"You mean lying," Bishop interrupted. "And as far as choices go, you always have a choice, you just chose to take the easy way out."
Deathbird shrugged, a slinky movement of slender white shoulders. "Call it what you will. The fact of the matter remains that I saved your life, you should be grateful."
"Oh, I am," he replied.
At that instant, before could say anything further or escalate into a argument, klaxons rang throughout the ship. "Helm to the Regent, Madam, we are under attack." the muffled voice of the bridge crew commander came over the ship's communication relay.
"Despite our differences, look, face it, we could use the help," Bishop said.
"Agreed, Earther," Deathbird smiled. "I too, would not welcome an argument at this stage of the game."
"Why do I get the feeling that I am going to regret this?" Bishop muttered under his breath and they both rushed from the room and ran for the bridge.
"Looks like our guests decided to hit and run, I hate that." Bishop griped when they arrived on the bridge. He hovered over the crew man's shoulder and peered at the lit up damage displays. As far as he could tell hull integrality still held at 85%, artificial gravity, atmosphere and other vital ship function's were still intact.
"I will assess the damage to my own ship, Earther, I don't need your half-assed opinions," Deathbird snapped.
She took a moment to study the same readouts as he had a second earlier, consulted with the bridge crew in Shi'ar and then straightened up. "We seem to have been a secondary target. Turning to address the bridge commander, "Is the discharge from the weapons fire consistent with that that of the species I think it is?"
"Affirmative, Regent," the bridge commander replied. "I have conducted a long range scan. Massive weapons fire occurred off a port bow," he bent over his console," at approximately 50 parsecs. Should I set in a course?"
"Take us in for a closer look." she replied. "We will find out soon enough."
"What the hell happened here?" It looks like they were attacked recently." Bishop shouted to be heard over the whine of the engines as the space ship shifted on its landing site. Solar wind from the distant sun caused the metal scattered for over a hundred yards in any given direction gave the landscape an odd surreal feel. His Shi'ar issue EVA suit technology monitoring his oxygen supply, vital stats and linked up with the space ship's medical bay. The communication device mounted inside the helmet's allowed instantaneous two-way conversations. "Looks like something big crashed here."
Bishop walked in direct line, heedless of the metal crunching under his boots. Deathbird walking a parallel line beside him. They had covered approximately 50 yards before they came across
Deathbird knelt down to inspect a piece of twisted and crumpled metal casing, one of several scattered in haphazard piles and stacks all over the metal platform. "They were. And judging from the carbon scoring on what's left of the mining platform I can be reasonably certain of the identity of the aggressors. Deathbird cocked her head to one side, in the manner of raptor sensing its prey nearby. Her dark spiky hair and violet colored eyes hidden underneath the helmet of the standard EVA suit, Bishop standing beside her could see how they narrowed at what she saw in the damage. When she straightened up, her lips pursed. "Skrulls."
"Skrulls," Bishop repeated. "I haven't fought them before, but I have been through the X-Men history archives and I recall that they were nasty pieces of work."
"You are correct, Earther."
"I do have a name, " Bishop griped. "So I would appreciate if you quit calling me Earther. The name's Bishop." Any thoughts what we should do next. If the attack was recent, say within that last 12 hours, we should search for survivors. They might need help."
"Very well, earth, I mean Bishop. I will take this to have it analyzed in the lab. Meanwhile, we will follow your suggestion." She moved off and began searching through the debris, while taking two handheld devices from the suit's many pockets, then handed one to him, "Scan for life-signs," she curtly ordered.
The search continued and they still did not show anything for the efforts. The damage to the mining platform was extensive and Bishop began to feel that they were no survivors. It had been wishful thinking. When the indicators on his hand held device lit up.
"One of the Kree," Deathbird murmured," That is surprising. They normally do not stray outside their own territory."
"Heard tell you weren;t exactly benevolent during your term as Regent."
The blue skinned, large muscular alien, reached up a free hand from under where he was pinned by the metal strut, and snatched at the shin of Deathbird's suit. "You! You will die for this!"
"Though I have much to answer for, you can scarcely hold me responsible for the unprovoked attack by the Skrulls. They are nothing but barbarians. As a matter of fact, they are worse than barbarians. They are scavengers."
"I really don't care, let's get him out of there, and back to the ship. He needs medical attention, real attention, not the kind you would have visited on me.: Bishop warned.
"Your point is well taken," she replied. "And the spirit of cooperation I will heed your wishes, Bishop."
"I am Stravos, first Prime of Kree, and in all my living years, that is something I never would have thought to witness. "The Shi'ar Butcher actually taking the wishes of another person into consideration." The man who called himself Stravos coughed up a bubble of red blood, contrasting with his blue tinted skin, giving his body a ghastly hue. Bishop ignored the sounds of the man's pain and got a good leverage and grip on the metal strut pinning the man's leg. With a heave of his powerful arms he thrust the strut to one side and pulled the man out by his arms.
"Save your strength," Bishop whispered. "Hold still, I'll get you out of there."
"The others?" Stravos coughed and hacked.
"What others?" Deathbird demanded.
"We were a peaceful mining colony…" We were not a threat to anyone."
"Not something the Skrulls would respect. "What ore did you mine here?"
"Tritroylene."
"Something the Skrulls use in their weapons manufacture." She then tapped the stub of her communication console inside her helmet, "Deathbird to Bridge Commander, lock on to this signal and transport one directly to the medical bay. On my mark."
Pausing a few seconds for a response, the glowing curtain of a transporter locked coalesce around the Kree male's body and her disappeared from sight as his molecules were dispersed and then reassembled aboard the transporter pad inside the space ship.
"That is what they were after? Seems like to a lot of effort such to get their hands on an ore," Bishop said. "Why was he so angry at you."
"You heard him, I may have been a bit harsh in my governing of the Kree Homeworld."
"Harsh, may be a bit of an understatement."
"You don't know the Kree as well as I do, throughout their history they have always desired independence from the Shi'ar Empire, and they are nothing if not insolent."
"Great, just great."
"I hardly need to justify myself to you, Bishop."
"Let's keep looking for survivors." she said and strode off in another direction.
Hours into the search they pair had found a dozen survivors all in various states of distress, only one they reached to help, the child's spine was crushed. Bishop knelt down and held the broken body in his arms. "I hate this." he whispered.
"Leave it," Deathbird said, "There is nothing more we can do here."
Bishop glared at the woman, unable to believe what he heard. Unable to trust himself to speak through his mingled feelings of shock, anger, and grief. He lay the body on the ground, composed the limbs and closed the staring eyes.
"Do you think that I am worse than my reputation or that I'm not as evil as everyone says I am?" Deathbird smiled.
"I haven't decided yet. Not everyone subscribes to the same warrior code, Bishop.
"So you're saying that what's obviously honorable isn't something that plays a part in your thinking?"
"Something to that effect," she replied.
"Stravos asked to be dropped off on the Kree homeworld, says he wants to be back among his own people."
"I will accommodate him, of course."
"It hasn't been that difficult in working with you." Bishop paused, thinking through what he wanted to say.
"Why that was almost pleasant." She smiled.
"Don't push it," he replied.