Dark Energy Supernova - An Anthology of SF SD Shorts

When Dark Angels Fly

A/N: SFSD ver 6.0, Rnd 3 - Trashic/Classic mash-up - Robin Hood vs Angels & Demons

The darkness shifted sluggishly.  Then a pinhead worth of brilliance appeared without warning.  A heart beat later it was joined by a soft green beam of light that lanced out to pierce the metal marked by the brilliant pinhead.

"Careful, Rob," a woman's voice softly cautioned.  "You were supposed to give Tuck 20 seconds to defeat the countermeasures."

"Can't risk it, Joan," a second voice countered.  "We go now."

The green beam brightened slightly and sparks began to appear as it bit into the cold steel.  Then, as suddenly as the sparks appeared, the darkness was abruptly shattered by white fluorescence.

"Drop the laser drill and step away from the vault door," a hard metallic voice ordered and the lithe blonde in a thermal dampening body suit sighed as she dropped the sleek drill away from the metal.  She then glanced over her shoulder to find eight Prin mechas, their lean, metallic bodies painted glossy white with numbers on their chests, all pointing disrupter rifles at her and her partner.  The mechas were joined by a pair of human handlers in white battle armor, also armed with rifles.  Together they crowded the relatively small antechamber in front of the industrial vault they had attempted to penetrate.

"Only eight mechas?" she tautly asked, staring at the handlers.  "That's almost insulting!"  Then she was blurring into motion.

The drill dropped onto the floor as a hand went to the small of her back where her own weapon was located.  Jerking it free as disrupter rounds slashed through the air around her, she snapped it up and with legendary accuracy, drilled each mecha in their rectangular head with a single shot of her needler. 

It was an impossible shot, the needler round barely able to penetrate the mechas' armor.  She would have to hit it perfectly.  But impossible shouts were routine for the uncanny marksmanship of Robin Houd.  Perfect hits were second nature to her.

She dropped the second last one before her friend, the tall and athletic brunette Joan Little had her guns out to blast the last one into pieces, leaving only the handlers.

"It is a federal crime to destroy Prin mechas," one of the handlers tautly pointed out, his hands trembling as he fought to keep his weapon trained on the two women.

"And we would definitely be within the law to shoot you on the spot," a new voice noted as a broad-shouldered man stepped forward.  Like the handlers, he wore snow white battle armor, minus only the helmet.  That let the two women see him, the view making their expressions instantly writhe with distaste.

"Knottingham," they said in derisive unison.

"Well, well, well." Knottingham smirked, his coal-black hair slicked back and his goatee trimmed to perfection, as he came to a halt in front of the two frowning women, ignoring the weapons they had trained on the center of his chest. 

"Robin Houd and Joan Little."  He glanced at the massive vault door that the two stood in front of.  "The governor's favorite girls from a jar.  What is it this time, my cloned pretties?  Corporate espionage?"

"Whatever it wasn't, it certainly isn't enough for Governor Plantagenet's bootlicker to come down and deal with it himself," Robin quickly retorted, earning herself a snorting laugh from the dark haired man.

"Don't be ridiculous, my dear,"  Knottingham leered as his dark eyes moved suggestively over first Robin in her form-fitting suit, then the taller Joan.  "I pay good money to corporate security to track you two.  As soon as I get a whiff of your perfumed and perfectly shaped backsides, I am on the hunt."

His leer abruptly deepened.

"Speaking of hunting," he then said before looking over at the handlers.  And Robin grunted as a stun dart slammed into her chest, punching through the thermal sheath's minimal armor to spill tranks into her bloodstream.  Her legs robbed of strength, she toppled to the floor, Joan following her down.

As the room faded to black, she had just enough left to see Knottingham lean over them to lick his lips.

"Oh yes, I think I will have fun stuffing the two of you and mounting you on my mantle!"  And then all went black.

Robin twitched when she came to after what felt like a decade in the thick darkness of unconsciousness.  And immediately her hands were checking to make sure she was still clothed.

"Don't worry," a woman's voice said.  "I got to you before Knottingham could come and retrieve you for a night's play.  You're safe."

Robin's eyes flickered open and she found herself looking at the classically beautiful features of Ellen Nahdale, an attorney of their acquaintance.

"Ellen!  But aren't you a sight for sore eyes," she exclaimed, letting Ellen pull her into a sitting position.  A quick glance to the side showed Joan still unconscious, the smaller form of Madre Tuck, their tech specialist, beside her.  The diminutive Asian woman also wore a thermal sheath, but had a utility vest and belt over top to carry her many tools and pieces of equipment.  Unfortunately none of those remained with her.

"Where are we?"

"In a Prin shadow cell, under an EMF dampening field," the attorney revealed, kneeling beside Robin.  "While Knottingham has considerable influence within Central's primary police service, he can't openly flaunt Prin rules about detainees.  You had to be booked and incarcerated before he could do anything further."  She glanced back towards the door, then back to Robin while lowering her voice.

"Still, if I wasn't tipped off that you three had been taken, you'd be in Knottingham's hands right now."

Robin let a long sigh loose.  Knottingham, Governor John Plantegenet's personal hound; his corruption was well known, his vices legendary.  She didn't even want to think what he would do to them if he got the chance.

"So you beat that slime bag to us," Robin began with a frown.  "But I'm curious as to who tipped you off.  We're not exactly stand up citizens with plenty of mainstream support.

"No, you wage a steady counterintelligence operation combined with funding your efforts via corporate espionage against John's money barons in the business world," Ellen countered with a grimace.  "All with the intention of some day finding Richard Plantagenet, New Breton's Minister of the Colony."

Nobody had seen or heard from Richard, John's older brother and once the most powerful man on New Breton in years.  Not since he had climbed about his starship, the Crusader, to meet with a handful of his fellow colonial ministers to discuss how to gain even greater autonomy from Earth.  New Breton was one of twelve colonies Earth had established over the last two hundred years since discovering FTL travel and was one of its most rich and powerful.  If they could somehow gain independence from Earth's iron hand, they would carve a new destiny for themselves amongst the stars.

And so, when Richard disappeared before the Crusader could even reach the meeting, many suspected Earth's intelligence service had either kidnapped or killed the powerful colonial minister.  However, before Richard's people could investigate, his brother John, serving as a regional governor on New Breton, stepped up to assume leadership over the colony.  Much to just about everybody's chagrin.

Backed by big corporate money, John swiftly extended his influence through an empowered and militarized Prin, short for Principle Law Enforcement.  And in doing so, triggered a quiet rebellion led by anarchists and Richard loyalists like Robin Houd, Joan Little and Tuck.  They were rats in the stainless steel walls of New Breton, stealing corporate secrets and selling them to the highest bidder to fund the rebellion and the continuing search for Richard.

Then Ellen was recapturing her attention:

"It was the Office of the Colonial Minister," the lawyer finally revealed.  "And they want to give you an offer."

Robin frowned as she stared hard into Ellen's face.  The OCM?  But that was Richard's office, supposedly disbanded when John took power.  What could they possibly have to offer?