NOTE: This is an excerpt from the free E-book.

MANY sleep cycles had passed before Mother located the illicit fleet of bloated space arks, stolen interstellar yachts, hijacked cargo containers and swarming armed escorts. Mother’s eyes were as cold and black as intergalactic space when she ordered, “Dark energy gun crews may commence vaporization of the criminal flotilla.” Immediately, thousands of intelligent beings from dozens of planets throughout the galaxy perished in grim succession as targeted space vehicles and habitats burst like multi-colored soap bubbles releasing blazing clouds of oxygen, methane, hydrogen, and other gases and fluids that formed the artificial environments essential for higher orders of life.

The defending warships were scattered helplessly by furious plasma shock waves. Several ship masters attempted high velocity escape maneuvers away from the carnage with their precious, civilian transports in tow. But the spectacle of the fleeing ships with their pitiful baggage ignited Mother’s predator instincts and pushed her deeper into the mindless frenzy of a Mamba rage. She intensified her attacks and ordered more lives extinguished as her slim, impervious Mamba battle fortress weaved in and out of the midst of the desperate fleet of renegade colonists; she now discharged multiple weapon systems simultaneously, almost randomly at rebel vessels near and far but never missed a selected victim. Even slow moving lifeboats and individuals flailing in leaky, emergency survival spacesuits were severely damaged or blasted into oblivion.

However, with determined effort, the black haze faded in Mother’s mind, a semblance of sanity was restored; she halted the destruction in time to preserve a generous 10 percent of the refugees for possible leniency and resettlement on approved planetary reservations. She frowned and commanded, “Advise all surviving vessels to power down, repair life support systems only, stay adrift in interstellar space and await judgment by representatives from the Mamba Galactic soon to arrive!” Until then, Mother was the sole authority of life and death. 

For the moment, her blood lust was well satiated so she granted herself time to luxuriate in the presence of twisted debris, molten metal and mutilated corpses tumbling in the airlessness of space.  After a few seconds, the dangerous dark cold mostly faded from her face but she was still agitated as she contemplated the next holy task bestowed upon her by the divine Mamba Galactic.

Mother had enlisted hundreds of the deadliest beings in the Galaxy to crew her Mamba starship to assist in the fulfillment of her ordained duties. Her central control room was manned by specially trained techs carefully selected from highly advanced, yet thoroughly ruthless, space-faring civilizations. They all had watched and participated in the destruction of a rebellious coalition consisting of their own peoples, but while in close proximity of their Mamba mistress, none of her crew dared to utter a minor complaint or even appear mildly distressed by the despotic acts committed. She always demanded exact precision and absolute obedience at all times no matter how merciless her conduct. She glared disappointedly at her astro-navigator, a large nightmarish, wasp-like humanoid covered with poison barbs, acid stinger and long fangs who immediately activated his translator to respond to her inquiry.

“Yes, Mamba Mother.”

“Primary Navigator, why are your people so stupid to run from Mamba. It is a tragedy. How much of your ugly, traitorous clan did I destroy?” Mother narrowed her eyes and raked a clawed fingertip through her thick, silky blue mane.

The insect man barely twitched as he responded, “My entire wondrous, shining golden hive was destroyed, Mamba Mother. Beautiful hatchlings, the joy of our race’s future, along with honored ancients who so sweetly sang about the conquests of the past and the sorrows of the present are all dead.”

Mother bared her fangs, “Be careful. You affront me! Check your scanners, again! I left one colony ark displaying your clan’s markings completely untouched.”

The insect man trembled as he glanced at his data pad. “I was speaking metaphorically,” he said quickly.

“Should I destroy your colony ark filled with possibly the last seed of your people, because of your incompetence?”

“No, Mother.”

“Prepare the main fusion cannons.”

“Yes, but please, reconsider.”

“Stop insulting me!!!” Mother screamed.

The insect man lowered his gaze to the ship’s deck. His poison quills drooped.  “Please.”

“Now, I am truly angered!” Mother extended all her claws and stood up to address the entire multi-species command staff. She was wearing only a thin, tightly fitting body tunic and wide, multi-colored cape. “Is this the beginnings of a mutiny!?” she demanded glancing about. None of the other crew members answered or looked away from their instrumentation panels. It was difficult to predict the emotions or logic of a Mamba. She spoke harshly, “There are no other Mamba closer than a hundred light years!! Maybe you all should band together, come against me, steal my Mamba ship, rescue the last stragglers of your pitiful, ungrateful refugees and fly away to another multiverse!!!!” There was severe malice in her tone as she suddenly reclined back into her command chair, closed her eyes and waited for a response. Her robe wrapped itself protectively around her.

No creature moved in the control room. The only sound was the gentle hum of the ventilation system and the labored breathing of various crew members who didn’t dare stray from their posts or even consider reaching for a weapon. The insect man finally had managed to control his trembling when he admitted, “You would easily rip us all to shreds, Mother.”

She opened one eye lazily, stretched and purred, “Yes. Tell me again; what does your species taste like?”

The insect man quivered anew, “I am told, my extremely rare, very special kind are quite delicious to the palates of warm blooded mammalians. Also, we are considered to be this galaxy’s most adept astronomers and astute poets. May I power down our weapons? Offer emergency aid to the last few survivors, before you dine?”

“Yes. But YOU are too skinny.  And, I too greatly admire your special skills as my Primary. Send one of your wives to my dinner garden. Make sure she is plump.” Mother’s robe rippled with anticipation. She stroked it lovingly. “Proceed to next objective.”

“Yes, Mamba Mother.” A long silence prevailed as the crew collectively sighed and settled back into their regularly assigned duties. “Mother, your destination solar system is one mere sleep cycle distant.”

“Have we completely absorbed their primitive data stores?”

“Yes, Mother. Your captured Mech minds also have calculated and selected a single individual from several billion candidates. They call themselves humans. He can serve as your ambassador.”

“You are SURE this human has the DNA sequence I seek?”

“Yes, Mother.”

“His designation?”

“He is a male descendant of the planet’s first sentient people. His ancestors originated from the land mass, they call Africa. Recently,  his group has migrated to their asteroid belt where he was born into a royal clan. His name is Otter Mann.”

“Uncloak the ship after we enter the system. Establish relations appropriate for primitives. I go to banquet and then rest. Arouse me as we arrive.”

“May I ask what is special about this primitive Otter Mann?” said Primary while Mother swirled her cape around her as she stepped into the transport tube.

She replied, “No. Obey my wishes.” The robe fluttered and wrapped itself tightly around her, cooing in contentment as she exited.