Battle For The Blue Planet Chapter 6: At What Cost

Ships from the Home Fleet descended on the Red Spark like a pack of hungry wolves when they found her adrift. Human and Dlamisan medics were the first to board and immediately began a medivac of the wounded and dead to the fleet’s hospital vessels. Next came the engineers. Almost every ship in the fleet sent their best and brightest to the Red Spark to keep her space worthy. In mere hours her engines and hull were repaired. Then as suddenly as all the help arrived, they all left.

Down on the planet, there was a titanic rescue effort going on. Cities and towns had been struck by falling debris and everyone able was ordered to assist in the operation to save as many lives as possible. Unfortunately, that meant that for the next several days all comms traffic was dedicated solely to emergency response as most of Earth’s communication satellites had been destroyed in the fighting. Communication with friends and family had to wait. But fortunately, the celebration on the Red Spark didn’t.

Deep in the belly of the Red Spark laid a bar. A bar not made of metal alloy like the rest of the ship, but more like something you’d find in one of the old cities of Earth. The walls were paneled with wood from the worlds that the Red Spark had visited, giving the bar an almost plaid-like pattern. Against that plaid wall laid nearly a dozen restaurant-style booths with their wood paneling being almost as varied as the room itself.

As stunning as the rest of the room was, it was nothing compared to the bar that filled the center of the space. It went nearly from wall to wall before curving in an L shape, making it seem like it stretched for miles. Nearly a dozen different woods from the Dlamisan homeworld made up just the countertop. Each wood on the countertop seemed to correspond with the wood of five stools that were carefully matched from Earth’s native trees. In all there were nearly seventy stools across the bar, which combined with the booths would total just enough seats for the entire crew of the Red Spark. Sadly, the entire crew of the Red Spark would never fill them again. Instead, the only ones at the bar counter currently were three crewmembers. Sunny, McCoy, and the bartender himself.

McCoy Sat down next to Sunny and looked at the bartender who was still righting bottles, glasses, and other utensils that were knocked about during the fighting. He made to speak up and order when suddenly the bartender turned and stared at him. McCoy had cleaned himself up since the battle. No longer was he sporting a blood-soaked uniform that covered an equally drenched set of fur. He was wearing what could only be described as a pirate’s best. But despite his fine wears Jack’s gun could still be seen poking out from his pocket.

McCoy opened his muzzle to place his order to the staring bartender, “A scotch, please. And not just that stuff we keep around for mixing with those human sodas. Let me get a glass of the stuff from before the war.”

The bartender had gotten a good look at McCoy and noticed the shape of the weapon and handle poking out of his pocket. So instead of turning back to the bar and making the requested drink, he instead pointed his hand to a sign hanging up on the wall behind the counter. “All weapons must be turned in before receiving service.” Apparently, there had been an incident several years prior where some humans and dlamisa were bored and tried to use plasma pistols on low power rather than darts on one of the bar's two boards. Needless to say, it hadn’t gone well the burn marks that still hung on the wall proved it. The bartender never forgave the incident and forced all his patrons to hand over all their weapons before being allowed to drink, on pain of sobriety those who dared not to obey.

McCoy not wanting to make a fuss reached into his pocket and pulled out the pistol, he looked at it mournfully before setting it on the counter for the bartender to take. Professionally the bartender picked up the weapon, cleared it, and took it to a secure back room hidden from view of the bar.

While both the bartender and McCoy had handled the interaction with silent professionalism, Sunny hadn’t. She had been one of the few officers gifted with one of those weapons and was shocked to see McCoy had one in his possession.

Picking her jaw up from the countertop she asked the question that seemed to have been overlooked by the bartender. “McCoy, where did you get that gun?”

McCoy looked at Sunny and took a deep breath he spoke, “It was Jack’s. It’s mine now. That’s all that matters.”

“McCoy he wouldn’t have given that gun up to anyone less than his mate! Not to mention that he still wouldn’t do it so long as he could still breathe!” Sunny interjected, apparently not satisfied with his previous answer.

McCoy in response just looked at the bartender as he returned from storing the mentioned firearm. The bartender cocked his head in an unspoken question that McCoy answered with a small nod. The bartender then turned and made the medic’s requested drink before looking at Sunny.

“McCoy and Jack are mates. I’m not aware of the specifics, but they’ve been together for several decades at this point,” The bartender explained.

“Were mates… We were mates… He was the first to die, and he did it in my arms,” McCoy muttered, correcting the bartender.

“McCoy… Why didn’t you tell me you two… We’ve been friends for…” Sunny stuttered out before taking a breath, switching to Enkanti. “To say I’m sorry for your loss would not be a suitable response. You’ve been my friend for so long, you deserve better than that. Whatever you need I am here to provide,” Sunny said staring at the depressed medic.

“The only things I need are a few more of these,” McCoy said swirling his glass before continuing, “And a bottle to take back with me,” he finished huffing in sarcastic amusement.

“Then whatever you want I’ll pay for. I’m not leaving you to drink alone,” Sunny responded, putting a paw around the medic’s shoulder.

“Nobody here is paying for anything. My bar is open. Anything you want is yours, even from my personal collection if you’d like,” the bartender said switching the conversation back to English.

“Thank you both, as enticing as it sounds I’d really just like to finish this one and take a bottle back to my office. I need some time alone…” McCoy trailed off.

Sunny hugged him a little tighter before responding, “That’s ok McCoy. Both of us will be here for you whenever you’d like to come back.”

So there the three sat in silence for nearly an hour as they each downed their respective drinks. Eventually, McCoy found himself staring at an empty glass that was held in his shaky paws. Sunny and the bartender watched him as he carefully set the glass down and made to get up from the bar.

“Can I get that bottle now? I feel like it's time for me to go,” McCoy said quietly.

“Of course, you can,” The bartender responded before reaching up to the very top shelf and pulling down an old unmarked bottle of brown liquid. “Scotch from before humanity played with Nukes. Same brand as the one we had back when we first met,” He finished, gently placing the bottle in front of McCoy.

McCoy carefully picked up the bottle and stared at the bartender. Thoughts raced through his head as he felt the weight of the bottle in his paws. Every memory he had with the pair across from him flashed in front of his eyes. Every happy and sad day blended together in one long stream before abruptly ending as the bartender reached over the counter and wrapped up McCoy in a hug that felt strong enough to bend steel.

“Thank you. Thank you both,” McCoy said nodding to Sunny and the bartender before continuing. “One last thing before I go. I need Jack’s… no, my, gun back.”

The bartender’s eyes fell and his small smile turned into a deep frown. It seemed like he hoped McCoy would have forgotten. Quietly he got up and went to the back room to go fetch it. Seconds turned to minutes as the bartender still hadn’t returned with the gun. McCoy briefly began to consider getting it himself before suddenly the bartender returned holding the small silver weapon.

He placed it on the counter and slid it across, never taking his hand off of it. McCoy grabbed for the weapon, but it didn’t budge under the hand of the bartender. McCoy was about to ask why when the bartender suddenly began speaking.

“McCoy, promise me something,” He said.

“Promise you what?” McCoy responded, confused.

“Tell me if there’s anything I can do to convince you not to pick up this gun,” The bartender said almost pleadingly.

“...No,” McCoy muttered after a moment of silence.

“Please don’t make me regret this,” The bartender begged.

McCoy pulled his eyes off the gun and looked at the concerned bartender in front of him and answered, “It’ll be ok…”

The bartender then silently lifted his hand off the gun and watched as McCoy put it back in his pocket. No more words were exchanged between them, but a feeling of finality filled the room as McCoy turned to head for the door.

Sunny was confused at what she had just witnessed. The conversation between the two made nearly no sense to her. She was just about to ask the bartender what the hell they had been talking about when suddenly the door to the bar opened and in stalked a very angry Bonny. Her eyes immediately locked onto McCoy who was trying desperately to make himself look small. His ears were down and his tail wrapped around his legs, but still, he tried to maintain some kind of bearing and gave a sloppy salute. That seemed to make Bonny even angrier. Her tail lashed back and forth behind her as she stared at McCoy from just inside the doorway.

“Drop the gun McCoy,” she growled out.

McCoy stood up a little straighter and placed the precious bottle on a nearby table. “Why? What’s the issue?” He asked, feigning ignorance.

“Why!? WHY!? DO YOU REALLY THINK AFTER ALL THIS I WANT TO LOSE MORE OF MY FRIENDS?” Bonny barked out angrily, before taking a deep breath, settling herself. “Cookie told me about your plan McCoy, it’s over,” she finished.

McCoy shook and panted nervously as he slowly stepped back from the captain. “Please Bonny, I can’t do it anymore. Too many bodies, too much loss. I just can’t do it. My mate meant everything to me, Bonny,” McCoy stuttered as he reached into his pocket.

“Mate? You and Jack were… I never thought…” Bonny muttered, just as shocked as Sunny that they’d managed to hide that information from her and the rest of the small crew.

“We were going to tell you. Just as soon as we had saved enough to leave. He and I planned on making a new life together. It's all I’ve thought of for decades Bonny! Now he’s gone and so is our future,” McCoy said, his voice dropping to nearly a whisper as finished.

“You can make a new future McCoy! We’ll all help you do it,” Bonny begged.

“A future without Jack isn’t a future I plan on being a part of,” McCoy spat out drawing the gun from his pocket.

McCoy closed his eyes as he raised the gun, stopping only when he felt the cool metal of the barrel under his chin. His finger wrapped around the trigger and felt the roughness of the metal against his paw pads. As he began to squeeze he felt a sudden pain in his chest and then all of the sudden the world went tumbling.

Sunny slammed into McCoy like a golden bullet. She let out a howl as she made contact with him, sending the gun clattering to the feet of Bonny Red. The small communications officer was crouched atop the medic as he struggled to break free. Sunny was not having it and pinned McCoy's arms to the deck and stared into his eyes. His eyes displayed the pain in his heart, and this time Sunny didn’t miss it. Clinging to his arms Sunny let loose a sad howl that echoed through the halls. Briefly, McCoy fought, but it became quickly apparent that Sunny had the upper paw and was not going to lose it

The bartender walked out from his station and sat down on the floor next to McCoy’s head and began scratching the ears of the struggling Dlamisan who stilled quickly. He seemed about to speak before Sunny interrupted.

“**You don’t get to leave me like this**,” barked Sunny with a growl that turned to a near whisper as she continued, “We love you, I love you. You’ve been my friend for over a century. That’s not something you get to just walk away from.”

The bartender piped up as he scratched just behind McCoy’s ears, “She’s right bud. You mean the world to us. Every day you’ve brought joy to the folks around you. Losing you would hurt us too,” He said as he slowed his scratches, pausing in silence before resuming, “It hurts now, I know. It’s going to hurt tomorrow, the next day, and the day after that. It’s going to keep hurting for a long time, but the hurt will change. It will get easier my friend. Some day the pain will become bearable enough that you’ll stand on your own again. Until then you have us here to help you. I know we’ll never fill the hole left behind, but we’re going to do our best to try,” The bartender finished speaking and returned to his gentle scratching.

Bonny Red picked up the gun from the floor and set it next to the bottle before kneeling next to the still-pinned despondent medic. Motioning Sunny off of him, sending her and the bartender away, she leaned down and grabbed McCoy in a hug, pulling him off the ground and leaning him back against herself. Not unlike how a parent would hold a child on their lap, except the ‘child’ was a Dlamisan scout medic, and the ‘parent’ was a brightly dressed pirate captain.

“McCoy back when we decided to leave the empire, you were my rock. You sat with me just like this as I grieved over the crew that died. You even stood by me as I proposed obtaining the Red Spark. You’ve been behind me for every tough decision I’ve ever made. Now, I’m here to stand behind you,” Bonny said, leaning back onto the wall.

There they sat together on the floor until the bartender returned. In his hands were four glasses which he gently set on the ground, one glass for each of them. He then reached over to the table and grabbed the bottle of scotch, cracking it open. Pouring deeply into each glass, he corked the bottle and took a seat next to Bonny and McCoy, prompting Sunny to do the same on the opposite side, sandwiching the two between them.

The four didn’t move for nearly an hour as they reminisced over time long gone last. Even McCoy managed to join in as the bottle slowly drained. Eventually, the bottle ran dry, but no one wanted to risk the fragile feeling of satisfaction that had slipped into the room, so they continued to talk for some time. Tears were shed by those who could, hugs were exchanged, and in between all the misery, some laughter began to break through.

The first giggles came from Sunny after she tried to stand up too quickly and lost the battle with booze and gravity, coming back down across the laps of the three who remained sitting. Her small huffs of laughter only increased in volume when the bartender began scratching her head, causing her tail to begin wagging. It wagged so hard it smacked straight into the muzzle of Bonny Red making her start huffing with laughter. Sunny’s tail rapidly became a projectile, smacking into both Bonny and McCoy as it sped up. Even McCoy wouldn’t help, but let out a small huff at the absurdity of the situation as his friend’s tail battered him and the captain while Sunny was happily getting her head scratched.

But all good things come to a close, which was made apparent when Bonny’s datapad chimed alerting her to a message from the bridge. As she looked at it her huffs of amusement died rapidly and she sighed, letting go of McCoy and standing up. Turning to look back at the three she saw their looks of concern and confusion. Seeking to alleviate their worries, she told them what she had received, “I’ve got to go back to the bridge, the Oberon says there are reports I need to check out. I’ll be back when I have it all taken care of. Until then you two,” she points at Sunny and the bartender, “Are responsible for taking care of McCoy. And you,’ she turns her gaze to the medic, “I always have time for you. If you ever, *ever*, think you may want someone to talk to, then call me,” Bonny finished and left the bar pocketing the gun as she passed the table.

Bonny Red stalked angrily through the doors to the bridge of the Red Spark. She was looking for Oberon, the XO, as he was the one who dared to interrupt her time with her friends due to some ‘reports.’ She found him sitting in his chair dutifully going over his datapad which must’ve contained something interesting as he failed to notice the disgruntled captain in front of him. Bonny decided to make her presence known to the XO by clicking the claws of her hind paws on the ground intimidatingly, almost like an impatient human would tap their foot.

Oberon looked up upon hearing the sound and barked out an order, “Clear the bridge, I need a minute with the captain.” Like ants, all the other officers shuffled out in a line to go carry out their tasks elsewhere as best as they could.

Bonny turned to Oberon confused. “What reports are so important that you call me back after I *specifically* asked not to be disturbed? Not only that, but you clear the bridge for it” Bonny asked, annoyance still evident.

Oberon held out his datapad and explained, “I have here the impact locations of large pieces of debris across the planet.” He then stood up and took off his hat, and switched to Enkanti, “Bonny Red, I regret to inform you…”

Bonny froze. She knew those words. She had said them nearly a dozen times to the family of her fallen crew over the years. Never in a million lifetimes did she think that they’d be turned back to her. She began to shudder and pant as Oberon continued, “Your home was among those hit by debris from the battle…”

Her hearts stopped and time seemed to freeze. Everything she had fought for. The lives she had thrown down in the path of the Zenti. This couldn’t be it, it just couldn’t be, something had to be wrong. Not her Bailey and pups, anyone but them. They couldn’t be gone.

Oberon kept his decorum as he finished, “Your family remains unaccounted for… I’m so sorry Bonny.”

Bonny felt her chest tightening, each breath was coming faster than the last, but it still felt like she couldn’t breathe. She felt her hearts start again, slamming like three hammers against her chest. Her vision began to fade as she reached out for something, anything to hold onto. Her paws found Oberon as he grabbed and then lowered her gently into the Captain’s chair. “No, no, no…” Was all Bonny could say. She didn’t believe it. No, she wouldn’t believe it. She needed to see for herself.

Standing back up, she staggered to the door, past a shocked Oberon, and into the hallway filled with her officers. She pushed past, uncaring, making her way to the elevators. Down she went, straight to the hangar decks. The lights were still broken in many places, but she knew these halls like the back of her paw, so she pressed forward. Reaching the hangar bay she entered one of the Red Spark’s few working shuttles, cranked the engines, and pointed it toward Earth.

In a small room of a house in the countryside of Kentucky two old friends sat around a radio listening to the emergency frequency, waiting for updates on the state of the planet.

“Byron, I’m hearing reports there’s been a shuttle launch from the Red Spark and it’s coming towards Louisville,” Boatswain said.

“Well shit. That must be Bonny. Run and grab Bailey. I’ll track her position and keep you updated. You meet her when she lands. We can’t hail the shuttle through this old piece of junk,” Byron responded, tapping the top of the machine.

Boatswain moved through the halls of the house and tapped a red and black Dlamisa on the shoulder, distracting him from watching two pups chasing after a thrown ball through a window. Boatswain then explained the situation causing Bailey to stand up and begin moving. Together they went to a car parked out front and tore off down the driveway towards the glow of flames in the distance.

Bonny Red was piloting like a mad woman. To describe her flight as ‘erratic’ or ‘unsafe’ would do it no justice. To this day several speed records for vessels of the shuttles weight class are still held by her thanks to her sprint to the surface.

Breaking through the atmosphere Bonny flew the shuttle over her neighborhood. Below all she saw was destruction. The shockwave of a cruiser slamming into the ground nearby had leveled many of the houses, turning what was once a beautiful place to live into matchwood. Flying to her street she saw nothing good. All the houses were almost completely demolished. Desperately she looked for somewhere to set the shuttle down. Finding some clear space in the cul-de-sac at the end of the road, Bonny dropped the landing gear and let the shuttle fall unceremoniously to the ground.

Jumping out she immediately began moving through the rubble toward her home. The street itself was littered with bits and pieces of the lives of her neighbors. She passed the park that the pups loved to play in, now scorched. She stepped around a crushed vintage car, the pride, and joy of her next-door neighbor. Finally, she walked over the remains of a little bicycle, bent and broken from the shockwave, before stepping onto what remained of the front porch of her home.

The first thing she saw was the splintered remains of the swing that Bailey and William had built together in William’s later life. It had been one of the first things they shared together when Bailey reached Earth. It was only fitting that they shared it again before he passed.

Bonny then turned her eyes to where her front door once stood, now blown in and shattered, stepping through what remained of the frame. Picking through the debris was made much more difficult as the roof had caved in, forcing her to begin digging frantically through the rubble in search of her family.

As she dug her way further into the house personal item began to surface. The clothes came first, the little ones always left theirs strewn around the house and neither she nor Bailey could keep track of them all. Pushing past the memories Bonny scrabbled deeper into the rubble, stumbling onto what once was the kitchen. Immediately plowing through to reach the bedrooms she stumbled upon a cabinet that had fallen off the wall. Inside its shattered glass door, she saw what remained of her mate’s most prized possession. Bailey’s mug, his first gift from Fauve, was shattered into a dozen pieces. Her hearts sank, she knew he’d never voluntarily leave without it.

Placing the pieces into a jacket pocket, she pushed on. Deeper and deeper into the rubble she tunneled until suddenly a smell hit her nose like a freight train, smoke. Something was burning, and it was spreading fast. The wood frame of the house had become the kindling to a bonfire that she was squarely in the center of.

Her frantic digging became haphazard. She had to get to the pup's bedroom. She knew they’d be there, they all would be. Every time they had a nightmare they’d hide under their little beds. Bonny was certain that’s where she’d find them. So she dug. She dug while her paws bled and her lungs screamed from the smoke. She dug even as the heat of the fire began to become unbearable. She kept telling herself that they had to be there.

Bonny felt a bundle of fabric in her hand, she’d found something. Unable to see it through the smoke she put it up to her nose and took a deep smell, hoping against hope that it’d tell her something. It did, through the acrid smell of the smoke she smelled her son and daughter. Shoving the fabric into her jacket she kept digging, but the heat was too much. Her lungs screamed for fresh air and her fur was burnt in patches across every exposed limb, she had to get out. Bonny stumbled through the tunnel she had dug getting there as flames licked her jacket.

Bursting out into the cool air Bonny turned to look at what was left of her home. It was a flaming ruin. So many memories of everyone she loved, gone. Up in smoke before her very eyes. Reaching into her jacket she pulled out the fabric she had saved from the blaze. In her paws were a little tricorner hat and a tiny little red necktie.

At that moment Bonny thought back to what McCoy had said and she understood. She felt the soul-crushing thought of a life without her family and made her decision. She let out a miserable howl and drew her weapon, the very same silver pistol she had taken from McCoy not but an hour before.

Boatswain pulled onto the road leading to Bailey’s house. The rubble was thick and the road was becoming nearly impassable, but still, they pressed on. The armored car drove over the lives and memories of entire families as they tried to reach their destination.

Both turned their heads as they heard a mournful howl, but before Boatswain could utter even a word of warning to Bailey he was out the door and tearing down the mess of a street. Turning the corner he saw her. Kneeling on what remained of their front porch was a scorched and bleeding Bonnie Red with a silver object pressed beneath her chin.

At 100 yards, the object came into focus. Dropping to all fours he ran faster than he ever had before. Bailey’s legs burned as he sprinted, but he wasn’t closing the distance quickly enough.

At 50 yards he saw Bonny’s whole body tense as she slipped her finger onto the trigger

At 30 yards he let out a desperate choked howl as put every ounce of willpower into making his legs move faster.

At 20 yards he saw her ear twitch, turning towards him at the sound of his howl.

At 10 yards he was just close enough to see the trigger move back as Bonny’s eyes opened in shock and recognition.

At 5 yards Bailey Walker saw the hammer make contact with the rear of the gun. The barrel of which was still firmly beneath the chin of his mate.

In the bar of the Red Spark McCoy looked at the bartender as he polished the counter, while he and Sunny drank. There was a question burning in his mind, one that he hadn’t been able to shake since the bartender had lifted his hand from the firearm.

Deciding to break his impromptu vow of silence McCoy asked, “You knew, didn’t you? You knew what I wanted to do and you gave me the gun anyway. Why?”

Sunny cocked her head upon hearing the question before leveling a glare at the bartender and following it up with a question of her own, “Wait. You knew!? How could you risk McCoy’s life like that!? You irresponsible piece of shi…”

The bartender interrupted her rant before it could really begin saying, “Yes I knew. I’m no fool, McCoy. I knew exactly what you wanted to do with that gun. What I didn’t know was if you’d actually do it.”

Sunny was about to jump over the bar and begin strangling the bartender before he suddenly placed a small and thin metal rod on the table in front of her and McCoy as he continued to speak, “I was in your shoes once. It may have been centuries ago, but I remember that feeling more vividly than any other. I tried it too, a gun, not unlike yours. It took me all day and a lot of liquor to work myself up to do it. I put that damn thing up to my head and screamed to the heavens as I pulled the trigger, but when the hammer fell all I felt was regret. At that moment I realized I didn’t want to die, my family wouldn’t want me to die, but the cards were on the table and there wasn’t a thing I could do.”

The bartender took a breath and poured himself a drink before continuing to speak to the two Dlamisans entranced by the story, “Well, the hammer connected, and nothing happened. I was shocked and confused by my still being alive for days until I figured out what went wrong. You see, the former owner of the firearm kept them partially disassembled, and in my haste to die, I’d forgotten to put the firing pin in.”

The bartender paused and sipped from his glass before finishing, “I realized something that day. Sometimes you don’t remember what you have until you leave it behind. I gave you that gun not to help you leave, but to give you the chance to come back.”