Gunship Blues

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say, unless it’s twenty teenagers with radio comms open, that is. This thought ran through Bishop Bruen’s mind as he grimaced at the onslaught, grateful as his helmet automatically lowered the volume of several boys and girls, quite literally screaming, as they spun uncontrollably in freefall. He stood, mag locked to the hull of the Bruen Fleet destroyer Icarus, while his students flailed helplessly. Bishop sighed, then spoke, cutting into the screaming.

“You are all tethered to the Icarus, stop screaming!” He kept his voice relaxed so as to not create additional alarm in his students.

The majority quieted down, most of the children from the Family branches giggled at the panic from the new students. Bishop unlocked himself from the hull and used his suit’s internal gravity drive to maneuver into the cloud of children. He snagged one of the suited students, who was spinning and flailing without coordination. His HUD registered the occupant as Abigail Greenwood, daughter to the Prime Minister of the British Alliance.

“Abigail, relax.” Bishop spoke calmly to her.

The sixteen year old girl turned sharp eyes on him, stil wide with panic.

“Mr. Bruen, you do not have permission to use my given name!” Her voice was deep and husky for a young woman.

She had the typical posh British accent that seemed to prevail no matter how many wars tore the world apart. Bishop smirked at her, causing her panic to turn towards anger. “Darlin, I beg your pardon, but that's entirely untrue.” Bishop leaned into his Kentucky accent, usually light and hardly worth noting.

She started to rebuke him and then cut herself off, thinking better of it.

“Exactly. as part of this educational program, all of your parents, more importantly, all of you agreed to our terms.” He gave her a gentle nudge toward the ship where she landed awkwardly and activated her mag boots.

Bishop clapped his hands, a useless gesture, as his earlier thought aptly pointed out, there was no atmosphere in space to transfer the vibrations that constitute sound.

“Everyone, we are heading back to the ship.” Bishop told them.

There were a few boos from the branch kids.

“Get over it, tomorrow we will do a bit more practice and then let you off the tether with the shields active.” Bishop said.

This got a few cheers and some confused questions.

“The shields will be tuned to keep everyone from floating out into the blackness of space!” A tall, athletic blonde girl, named Artemis called over the comm answering one of the kid’s questions.

She was the typical branch family beauty that was more and more the norm as each generation came about. Her voice was a nice pitch, with a similar Kentucky accent that conveyed confidence, as it should, she was part of the Bruen branch. She had grown up in the Fleet, learning to space walk younger than some children learn to walk in gravity. The kids started drawing themselves in with their tethers and settling their feet on the hull, activating their boot’s mag locks. Bishop led them to the cago airlock and ushered them all inside. After the lock was sealed and pressure normalized, they moved to the EVA storage room. Bishop waved to Artemis. She had just removed her helmet,her blonde hair was dark with sweat, still tied back tightly. She came to stand in front of him, looking up at him questioningly.

“What’s up, Uncle Bishop?” Artemis asked.

He smiled at her and patted her shoulder.

“Get some of the other kids and help the newbies with their suits. Then get everyone to the showers, dressed and fed, ready for class.” Bishop instructed.

Artemis beamed up at him, then turned and started gleefully barking orders at the other branch kids. To their credit, they rapidly obeyed and started helping the other kids. Artemis ended up helping Abigail, who looked like she was doing her best to stay cordial, while being treated like a child, by a girl her own age.

Once in his cabin, Bishop stripped from his Mk. 10 Oni power armor. The skin tight undergarment was a nanofiber that conformed perfectly to the body, prevented chafing and regulated multiple bodily functions, while interfacing with the power armor. The automated armor dock began its cleaning and maintenance cycle as he peeled the skin suit layer off.

“Having fun with the screaming children yet?” An Australian accented female voice sent shivers down Bishop’s spine, as it always did.

Bishop turned to see his wife, Ashley Bruen, leaning on the hatchway to their cabin watching him while he stripped down.

“Don’t tease me Ashe.” Bishop said.

She raised her eyebrows.

“Oh like you're not the one teasing me, eh?” Her eyes purposely scanned his naked body, up and down. Bishop was a lean, muscular man appearing to be in his thirties, with slightly tan skin and dark hair. His face was sahrply featured and clean shaven with emerald green eyes that stood out.

He chuckled, then struck a pose for her, to which she responded by fanning herself with a hand, and pretending to be flustered. She grinned at him and walked in, giving him a kiss.

“I understand love, now go get cleaned up and I’ll eat with you.” He smiled back and then yelped when she slapped his bare bottom.

After showering and donning the one piece flight suit that could double as an emergency spacesuit, Bishop put on a billed cap with the Bruen Fleet crest on it. The crest was a silhouette of the U.S.S. Texas, the ship slanted in its famous lean, once used to increase its range for artillery fire, encompassed by a victory wreath; all encircled by the branch motto: Certa pro astris, pugna cum honore. “Fight for the stars, fight with honor.” Bishop always liked the different branch mottos, but the Bruen moto was special to him, for more reasons than just being his family’s. It was a promise to keep pushing forward into the great black beyond, to cement the human foothold off of Earth toensure that humanity survived no matter what happened to one world. After he readied himself, he took Ashe’s hand and they walked to the mess.

At lunch in the expansion and comfortable mess, Ashe and Bishop shared a full pizza, along with their own salads. The crew of the Icarus laughed and joked around them, Ashe as Captain, liked to join in on the crew’s banter occasionally, though today she and Bishop discussed the experimental class he was teaching.

“I still wonder if the children weren’t sent here just to gather inside information on the Family and its operations.” Ashe said, clearly thinking out loud.

Ashe was suspicious, a little on edge, the ten exchange studentswere all children of important figures from the Earth governments. Bishop snorted.

“Of course they are, but it will also be a chance to get some of the real history into their heads, to secure better relations for the next generation.” Bishop finished a bite of pizza. “Besides, they would only find what every other spy and ambassador ever found before. Unlike governments, our organization doesn't have the same kind of dirty laundry.”

Ashe rolled her eyes.

“Of course we have our own dirty laundry, it's been used as the reason to attack us multiple times in the past.” Ashe argued.

She wasn’t likely to budge on the subject, seeing as how her branch, the Pace’s, had undergone some severe attacks from the Australian government in the last two hundred years; she had a right to be concerned. He took her hand in his and squeezed reassuringly.

“The Aussie government was handled last year,” Bishop smiled a predatory smile. “and besides, these ten are from waning countries, if we can help speed up the Founder’s Plan by teaching them for a couple years then why not?”

Ashe looked at him, unsure.

“Well, that aside, I still expect an attack. Having them die under our care would give those “waning” countries a lot of support to make a move on the branches still in their territory.” Captain Bruen’s worry bled through.

Her face went very serious. Bishop felt a smile tug at his mouth, he found her incredibly attractive when she got serious, taking her role as a commanding officer. She’d caught the twitch of his lip and glared at him.

“Not the time for your horny teenager routine, Admiral Bruen.” She admonished him.

He gave up and let himself grin.

“But you’re so beautiful when you get all serious!” He teased..

She just glared harder at him, Bishop saw the flush of color that ran up her neck, giving her away. He winked and stood up, having finished his lunch.

“My father knows about the concern and he has Intelligence with their eyes and ears wide open.” He told her.

“Glad someone is taking this seriously. Go teach the spoiled brats about real history.” She sighed, but relaxed slightly and waved him off.

Bishop gave a lazy salute and then left for the classroom.

Bishop entered the compartment that was set up for teaching the children and foundto find them all there, some mingling, others separated into their groups, Family and non Family. Artemis was sitting with Abigail, animatedly explaining something, by her hand gestures, it seemed like it might be spacecraft reentry into the atmosphere. A couple of the children noticed him and started to take their seats.

“Good afternoon everyone.” Bishop stepped in front of his desk and leaned against it casually.

The other loitering children moved into their own seats and Bishop noted the arrangement of the branches and their crests, they were spread out between the others. Good, he thought to himself, they had learned well.

“Welcome to History 101.” Bishop announced.

There were a couple groans and a kid from the Baron branch raised his hand.

“Sir, why are we covering something we have all studied before?”

Bishop grinned at the kid,named Tory, who had the classic Baron features and black hair.

“Well Tory, the ten students who aren’t from the branch families, likely don’t know the real history of the last three hundred years.” Bishop answered.

The branch kids collectively shrugged and quieted down, they seemed to understand Hwan, son of the current Unified Korean’s dictator, raised his hand.

“And why would you consider our history to not be real Mr. Bruen?” His English was almost perfect.

Hwan stared at Bishop with intelligent eyes set close together in his slightly round soft face. His black hair was buzzed on the side and the longer top swept back. Bishop shrugged, then answered him.

“I’ve read the history books you all learned from, some are more accurate than others, but they all seem to have shifted in the last few versions, as time passed.” Bishop subvocalized a request to his AI. “George, can you display each version of the appropriate history texts to the children?”

“Of course Bishop.” A smooth male voice responded in Bishop's ear. “I can also display an option to show where each overlap with the same facts and where they diverge if you’d like.” George added.

Bishop smirked, George always did like to one up his requests.

“Sure, go for it.”

The children's attention shifted to the terminals at their desks as the data populated their own screens.

“Take a look at your respective history texts, then look at how facts have been altered over time.” Bishop directed.

Hwan’s brow furrowed as he examined the discrepancies. Abigail snorted derisively.

“The Family and its branches have long held the most advanced AI in their possession. without sharing that tech with the rest of the world.” Abigail seemed to stress her posh British accent while glaring at the texts on her screen.

“Unfortunately the British Alliance made some choice changes in their history, ones that didn’t make them look very good once you know the true story.” Bishop stated nonchalantly.

Abigail’s glare turned up to meet Bishop’s green eyes.

“How would we know that these aren’t just alterations you’ve made up?” She asked.

Bishop tilted his head at her. Several of the students seemed to catch on and agree with her question. Bishop sighed, then walked over to a storage door. He opened it and slid out a rack filled with authentic hard copy books.

“I knew that might come up, so I had every physical copy of the text brought onto the ship as well.” Bishop said.

Abigail closed her mouth as her face turned red from embarrassment. Bishop waved it off as nothing.

“You were right to ask the question., Ffunny thing about the Family, we always share the truth when requested and never made it our business to be secretive or be a behind the scenes shadow group, like similar organizations of the past.”

Bishop took his place at the front of the class again. With a wave of his hand, a large photo appeared in midair, where everyone could see it.

“Does anyone not in the Family recognize this photo?” All the students nodded their heads in recognition.

In the photo was a man in an early Mk. 2 Oni exoskeleton, the skull shaped helmet disconnected and hanging from his left hand. Under the exoskeleton the man was wearing some sort of fatigues with chest armor over the ribs of the exoskeleton, different devices were attached to the armor. The man’s hair was brown, buzzed close to his skull and he had several days worth of beard growth. He was captured looking at the camera with dark, piercing eyes, his fatigue clearly showing. Tears had run small streaks through the light grit on his cheeks. His right hand and foot were raised, stepping into the waiting palm of his Mechanized Combat Armor, the first Ogre class mech. The large humanoid machine had no head, just a blocky chest with arms and legs. The mech was battered and scorched from blaster and bullet fire, dented and chipped. Behind the man and his machine was the old White House of the long gone United States of America. Arken Burke shot his hand up.

“That’s the Founder!” Arken spoke with no noticeable accent despite being from Texas proper. He strongly resembled his ancestor, fair skin, dark brown hair and eyes with thin lips.

“That’s right, Aaron Burke.” Bishop nodded and met the eyes of each of the exchange students, one by one. “Tell us what your country calls him.”

The children looked around at the expectant Family branch members with some nervousness.

“Don’t worry, we’ve all heard the names,” Bishop urged them on, “I just want to know from each of you what you were taught about him.”

“The Insurgent.” Unsurprisingly, Abigail was the first to speak up.

Despite the Family knowing, the room still seemed to drop a couple degrees. Tory was glaring at Abigail, while Artemis just crossed her arms with an annoyed look.

“The Butcher of America.” Hwan went next.

“The Killer of Democracy.” Arav Gupta, the prince of India joined meekly.

“The Barbarian.” Klaus Vogal, heir to the New Reich spoke with casual boredom.

“The Tyrant.” Giulia Vitale, the New Roman Empire answered with a strange admiration in her voice.

“Terrorist.” Rayan Rahim, of the Eastern Federation added with clear disgust.

“The Reaper.” Abena Okoye, North African Confederate, spoke in a hushed voice.

“The Founder.” Cesar Lopez, from the Republic of Brazil said in a soft accent.

“The Progenitor.” Charles Hoffman, of South Africa said firmly.

“The Catalyst.” Elena Putin, from the Russian Republic, was the last to call out.

Bishop nodded along as each of the children spoke the different names Burke had been given over time. The last three were from nations allied with the American Republic Nations, though not directly under the Family oversight, like the western superpowers.

“After leading the Second American Revolution, Burke caught the ire of multiple nations around the world.” Bishop continued.

Bishop knew this history lesson may not have been strictly necessary, but felt he needed to make a point in the Family’s honor. He looked into the young eyes that stared back at him.

“And do you know what he did then?” Bishop let the question hang in the air for a moment,

to his surprise none of the children volunteered an answer. The exchange students seemed to be much more intelligent than he had expected.

“He became a dictator.” Bishop added.

Some of the exchange students seemed shocked to hear this from him but Bishop continued.

“He took control of and ran all of North America for fifteen years.” He smiled slightly, “Then do you know what happened?”

Giulia raised her hand, a slight nervousness to her bearing.

“He was voted out of power and forcedforce to step aside for a new federal government structure.,” Her nerves clearly settled as she spoke, her strong Italian accent seeming to lighten as she did. “This was due to a growing dissent within the populace that felt he was too imperialistic.”

Bishop watched some of the children’s reactions, taking note of how each responded. Arken, the Texan, bristled, then calmed himself down. Okome Taru raised her hand. She was a very bright and outgoing Japanese girl from a branch of the Family that actually traced back to the Founders children, her long black hair was neatly tied up to avoid catching on anything in the space craft.

“He actually stepped down after the completion of the American Code of law, allowing for a solid republic government to be reinstated as the original founders of the United States intended.” Okome said.

Giulia frowned and Klaus scoffed, waving away Okome’s explanation.

“That is propaganda that your Family has spread in the last hundred years to save face.” Bishop barked a short laugh before he could contain it.

The exchange students looked at him with utter shock.

“My apologies but having known individuals who lived during that time, it's funny to hear the changes in history.” Bishop explained.

A few of the exchange students looked confused, most did not however.

“How old are you?” Abena blurted then glanced down in embarrassment at her outburst.

“It’s all right, I am eighty-four years old.” Bishop nodded.

Abena gasped, Klaus and Hwan nodded in understanding.

“The Family has, from the second generation on, engaged in genetic modification of its members.” Bishop told them.

He was surprised that this wasn’t well known to all of these children, seeing as they were the heirs to the elite of Earth. Bishop was about to explain further when an alarm beeped in his ear.

“Sir, this is Icarus,” The ship’s voice sounded in Bishop’s ear. “A squad of attack ships just dropped into local space.”

The ship's Ai usually had a calm, soothing tenor voice, too enthusiastic for his occupation. Now, the tone was hard and serious now though. Bishop clapped his hands together loudly.

“Kids, buddy up, you need to suit up and prepare to evacuate the ship.” Bishop ordered.

The Family kids, trained for most of their life in emergency drills and operations, jumped into action. Each grabbed a exchange student classmate and started guiding them towards the compartment with their suits. Bishop watched as the Family children whispered details about what to do to their nervous classmates.

“George,” Bishop called to his AI as he followed his students.

“Here, Bishop.”

The lights that indicated ship status shifted from blue to yellow near the ceiling on the corridor.

“Sync up with Icarus and determine the details of the attack ships, then warm up the Beowulf.” Bishop commanded. George chuckled softly in his ear.

“It’s been a while since you took him out into combat.” He teased.

George had always had this problem, even when he was still alive in a human body, he just loved to goad Bishop into a fight. The only problem was Bishop loved to fight, so it typically worked.

“Damn straight, my baby needs some exercise.” Bishop said eagerly.

The comm chirped with the custom the tone for Ashe, followed by her voice.

“Sweetie, the Beowulf just began its startup, are you planning the usual?” Ashe’s tone was split between amused and reproachful.

“Can’t let the threat to my students go unpunished, now can I?” Bishop grinned like a bully.

The Beowulf was larger than a fighter craft, but not as large as a full orbital dropship. It was a sleak, aerospace gunship, Bishop’s personal craft. When Bishop had turned twenty, he had asked his father for a ship of his own personal design. His father, after seeing the design, had granted this gift to Bishop, his reckless, adrenaline junky son. Unfortunately the gunship ended up taking another two decades before its design was truly complete., It took hundreds of prototypes and a combination of failed and successful test flights, until it became the base model for all the Family’s light shuttle, gunship and fighter craft aerospace vehicles.

The Beowulf was still the most advanced craft of its kind, every other copy being a far, far cheaper, mass production model. Bishop stripped off the thicker flight suit he wore as soon as he reached his cabin, making sure his skin suit was properly on before opening the armor dock, exposing his Oni. His current model was sleek, with muliple interlocking black armor plates and an evil looking helmet shaped like a human skull. The suit’s front split open to allow him easy access and he climbed in, feeling it encompass him and beginning its synchronization that would allow full control and range of motion, barely feeling the armor. Once activated and the Oni was synced up to his body, he took off toward the hanger. Icarus alerted the crew and any in his path were pressed up to the bulkheads when he rocketed past, his armored feet pounding the deck. He slowed when he reached the hanger and checked George's progress on the startup, everything was prepped and ready though his eyes squinted at the note from George on his HUD. Bishop ignored the not and proceeded with a preflight check of his ship, it was vaguely reminicent of the old American B-2 stealth bomber, but with more organic lines and curves, panels hid the substantial weapons system. The hull shimmered mirror black, as the active stealth shroud ran its final diagnostics. When Bishop rounded the gunship to the rear ramp he stopped suddenly and placed a hand on his hip in an affected and exasperated posture.

“Hi Uncle Bishop!” Artemis’ stood before him wearing her space suit, her voice came through the comm, crystal clear and excited.

Behind her stood Abigail, also suited up and ready for vacuum.

“No.” Was all Bishop stated as he stomped up the ramp.

Artemis ignored him and followed, grabbing Abigail's hand and pulling her along.

“Too bad! you need a good copilot and other than Aunt Ashe, there isn’t anyone on the Icarus that can keep up with your flying.” Artemis smiled wickedly.

Bishop stopped and looked back at her, the Skull shaped helmet of his Oni suit giving a menacing air about him.

“What about Abigail?” Bishop asked.

Artmeis shrugged.

“She said she wanted to come, and according to the buddy system, we can’t leave each other. So, there!” Artemis responded confidently..

Artemis was far too pleased with herself, Bishop thought, he figured she may just want to show off to her new friend. He turned to Abigail.

“Need to hear it from you, can’t be liable for anything that happens out there.” Bishop said.

Abigail stiffened, then nodded giving her agreement.

“I would like to observe your famous flying, sir.” Abigail added quietly, her usual British pretentiousness absent for the first time that Bishop could recall.

Bishop grinned to himself, she was scared shitless, but doing a decent job of hiding it. He shrugged in a very similar manner to Artemis.

“Good enough,” Bishop agreed, “strap into the third chair then.”

The two teenage girls followed him to the cockpit, the ramp sealed itself up behind them, with nearly no vibration. Artemis strapped Abigail into what was actually a gunner station and got herself into the copilot's chair directly behind and above Bishop’s . The gunner seats were situated to either side and behind the pilot seats, so Abigail had a good view of the two Bruens doing their final preflight check. An alarm chirped once and the hanger doors opened up for the Beowulf. The craft gently drifted forward, freeing itself from the hanger., Once outside and through the energy shielding of the Icarus, Bishop rotated the gunship and slammed the speed control to maximum.

The Icarus, just in view to the right, suddenly vanished. The small gunship had such a powerful acceleration that the much larger ship didn’t even blur, it was just gone. Abigail felt only the slightest twinge of movement, but noticed she was not physically uncomfortable. Within moments they were within the formation of attack crafts, smaller corvettes that Abigail recognized with a gasp. Abigail felt her breath quicken as she heard Ashely Bruen, Captain of the Icarus over the ship’s comm.

“Bishop, the attack crafts have not responded and we are reading antimatter warheads.” Ashe’s voice was proffesional despite addressing her husband.

“Roger that, Beowulf is engaging.” Bishop said.

Artemis indicated her readiness with a gesture. The gunship zipped in an impossible circle around the formation which seemed sluggish to respond, the hundred meter ships were some of the fastest warships in the British Alliance fleet but being in the Beowulf made them seem slow. The gunship whined slightly and a brilliant blue beam extended to the outermost corvette. They were within a thousand kilometers so there was no delay for the lightspeed weapon. Suddenly, they were no longer close to the corvettes, Abigail watched in disoriented fascination as the ships seemed to instantly shrink in size, the targeted ship vanished in a ball of blinding white light. The antimatter warhead had been compromised and made contact with matter, resulting in a violent explosion. The other ships veered away in different directions and started to launch missiles towards the Icarus. Bishop stretched his hands theatrically.

“Alright Artemis, here comes the real flying.” His voice sounded like he was vibrating with excitement that was barely controlled.

Artemis clapped her hands, her excitement mirroring Bishop’s .

“Roger, all weapons are hot and George is assisting in the targeting.” Her voice was calm and relaxed in contrast to her visible excitement.

Abigail stared in wonder at Artemis’ excitement at the violent destruction of the corvette, which usually held a complement of at least fifty sailors. She glanced at her own screen to see the Icarus backing away at the same speed as the missiles were pursuing, small bright suns blooming at regular intervals where the missiles used to be, the point defense weapons were effortlessly eliminating the warheads. Abigail looked up in time to see Bishop maneuver the gunship into a sweeping roll around one of the corvettes. The underside of a corvette streaked by above them, as the blue beams cut along the larger ship’s hull. Then she was gripped in horrified astonishment when she realized Bishop was piloting the Beowulf manually. The three other ships turned to run and one after the other blinked out of normal space without any flash or other noticeable effect. The Beowulf sped back towards the Icarus and Bishop brought them in for a smooth landing. The docking cradle gently gripped the gunship as it powered down. Bishop stood up and high fived his niece before climbing out of his depressed cockpit. Artemis was chattering animatedly to her uncle as she helped Abigail escape her seat, but Abigail didn’t hear any of it. She was too stunned at the display of overwhelming force she had never truly expected from the Family, despite their extensive history as a fairly militant organization. The space battle which historically were long, drawn out fights at extreme distance, had been over in mere minutes.

“Why haven’t you just conquered the world?” Abigail blurted, surprising even herself..

Bishop and Artemis looked at her. After a pause Bishop responded with a gentle voice.

“Because, every nation has the choice and freedom to remain sovereign if they desire.” He patted Artemis on the shoulder. “After the Second Revolution, every country that joined, joined because of the citizens' choice.”

Abigail swallowed hard.

“Those were British Alliance ships.” Her voice quavered slightly, she felt as if she was about to cry.

Bishop reached out and gently, despite the powerful suit he wore, squeezed her shoulder.

“I know.” He responded, his tone conveying genuine empathy. “Things will happen very quickly now that an open attack was made that seemed to target the exchange students.”

She nodded and watched as the most dangerous pilot in history soberly walked down the ramp of his gunship. Artemis took Abigail's hand and squeezed it, then they followed their teacher.