Date point: 9y 1m 2w BV
Dear Journal,
I’m thinking of becoming a bounty hunter.
I know, that really doesn’t match with my “Only-use-awesome-inborn-human-powers-for-good” resolution.
Bounty hunters can be good, though, right?
And I mean, he doesn’t technically have a bounty, so does that just make me a hunter?
No, that has bad connotations out here.
I think I can understand how xenos feel when they are confronted with a human, because I had no clue what to do, and I was scared. Not so much for myself, although from the fact that this person had been able to kick my lava scimitar out of my hand I guess I should have been, but I was more terrified for my friends. I was lucky Manthlel had the attachments to his hulk-suit which made it vacuum-worthy, because I didn’t know if this human had a Corti implant. Until I knew the answer to that question, I felt much better with Manny having his own personal supply of oxygen.
But what was I going to do with player 2, here? I couldn’t take them back to Mama and friends, not only because of the Corti implant question, but because I was standing amidst carnage that, really, only this human could have wrought, and I didn’t feel like introducing him to the blue-giraffe family considering his apparent dislike of aliens. So the question remained: what to do with him.
“So, what do we do with him?” Manny asked, which is why I knew the question still remained. Up until that point I had hoped he’d know what to do.
“This isn’t exactly something I’ve encountered before,” I replied, “and I have a habit of screwing stuff up when I’m not used to it.”
Manny paused before saying what both of us were nervous to suggest, “. . . do we kill him? It’s pretty obvious he’s responsible for what happened on this ship, and I doubt we’ll have an opportunity like this again.”
He was right, and I thought a moment before answering.
“No. We have the drop on him now, and when he wakes up he won’t be feeling so good. Trust me, those anti-tank pulses sting. We can get his version of events before we decide what to do.”
Manny was obviously relieved, and happy to follow my lead. He had the same problems I did with shooting a guy when he’s down. While we waited for Player 2 to wake up, we explored the light-filled room that, from the looks of it, was where he lived. Well, we turned off most of the lights first so we could actually see. Maybe this guy was just taking “Afraid-of-the-dark” to a whole new level.
The room was a mess, and it was pretty obvious its habitant didn’t know much about living in space. In fact, it looked a lot like what I probably would have created if the blue-giraffes hadn’t taken care of me my first few weeks. At least Player 2 had figured out the dough spheres were edible, evidenced by the pile in the corner. Weapons lay strewn over the floor, mostly lava blades, though none were active. I don’t think he knew how to turn them on, since several of the blades appeared to have been used with their lava edges off. Normally when one used a lava weapon, the heat of the blade kept the actual weapon clean of bodily fluids. These weapons were caked with various colors of blood.
The only thing out of place was the number of pulse guns. The fact that they were there wasn’t surprising – if you found a way to work one you could probably use the heavies as a weak hammer or something – but the way in which they were being used was what caught my attention. They were being used as power sources. Each was dissembled with wires running from what I assumed was the power chamber to several nearby light sources. It was the only reason he had power while the rest of the ship was dead. I pointed this out to Manny.
“You’re right, it doesn’t fit with the rest of the room. Using the power supply of a KP weapon isn’t difficult – they’re meant to be able to be used as small, portable power generators – but you wouldn’t know that from just looking at them.”
“I guess it’ll just be another question for our friend when he wakes up.” I think the Cosmos has a sense of literary pacing, because the moment those words escaped my lips, Player 2 began to stir from his anti-tank pulse induced stupor.
“Ooh, that smarts.”
I could see he was a man of few yet articulate words. Another thought also occurred to me. He probably didn’t have a translator, but I had one of those area-of-effect translators, so Manny would be able to understand him. Considering the unease I had already caused him with that whole genocide ordeal, I thought it best if maybe I talked to Player 2 in privacy at first, just to gauge what kind of character we were dealing with here. Hopefully he spoke English.
Switching off my translator, I started the “Interrogation” – experience in which I have none – with what first came to mind.
“How you feeling?”
At the sound of my voice, his head shot up, eyes frantic, searching for whoever had spoken. His eyes instantly locked onto my face. His eyes, already wide, stretched further in disbelief as his mind registered what he was seeing. I’m guessing I was the first human he’d seen in a long time.
I’ll be honest with you, Journal. I kind of expected him to be happy to see me for no other reason than I was human. I mean, I was happy to see him, so why not the other way around? So I’d also been expecting some kind of surprised or shocked action. I wouldn’t have been even mildly surprised if Player 2 had laughed and greeted me as though I were an old friend, or maybe jumped to his feet while shouting in emphatic jubilation, or even broken down into tears of joy and relief – although I wouldn’t have known how to deal with that.
What I had not expected was the maniacal cackling that issued from his gaping, rotten-toothed maw. Now don’t let that last sentence there fool you. I wasn’t judging him for his teeth, mine weren’t the prettiest either – though ever since that grey Yoda subdermal implant their deterioration seems to have stopped, don’t ask me why. His teeth just made the whole effect that much more colorful
Glancing at Manny I could tell he was equally disturbed by P2’s outburst, if not more so. When he started speaking it was with the shouting convictions of a madman, confirming in my mind that this guy’s rocker had bucked him further even than mine had me.
“You came!” the bugger was still laughing, “I knew you were out here. How could they have known if you weren’t here? I resisted them. I didn’t let them have it. They tried, oh, they tried, but I was stronger. They were weak, and that’s why they wanted me. I figured them out. And now you’re here, and they’re not!”
Mentally I added a couple hundred yards to how far he’d been thrown, while outwardly I tried to calm him down, speaking in my most soothing voice. Where’s Morgan Freeman when you need him? “That’s right. We’re here. You don’t need to worry about a thing. You’re safe now. Just tell us everything that happened. Start from the beginning.”
“They abducted me,” was shouting really necessary? “The bright lights, the dark alley, that was all them. They took me, and studied me. Tried so hard, to figure out what, what made me tick! Tick! Tock! Tick! Tock! But I wasn’t gonna make that easy for them. I wasn’t gonna show it to them. No! And so they punished me, just like he used to. They hurt me, and stuck me in a cage. But they’d forgotten. I was stronger than them! I was stronger than all of them! They couldn’t understand me. I was greater. Thought their prison secure against me, did they!? Did they think that when I kicked the door down! No? Or maybe, when my foot went through his face, did they think I was weaker then? No?! The other one, the other human, he’d given up. When I found him he had let them put a blue needle in his neck and he was gone. Boop! Lights out! But not me, oh no. I was greater than them!”
I was horrified by the scene in front of me, but at the same time, I have to admit, it was pretty fascinating. Oh, come on, in a morbid way. It’s not like I was going crazy. Not at all. Not one bit. Right, Journal?
His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. I take it back. I preferred the yelling.
“They tricked me, I’ll give them that. Got me off the ship by luring me into an escape pod, though I dragged the last one between the door as it shut. None of them survived me; not, a single. grey. But then, I was alone. I didn’t like that. It was thirsty, dark, and hungry in there. No I didn’t like it. one. bit. I wanted to go home, then, but it wouldn’t let me,” he sped up, the story tumbling in an increasingly frantic jumble, “I couldn’t make it do what I wanted. It wouldn’t listen! I almost died in there. Then it happened again. Yes, again! Dragged my floating carcass out of space and tried to take it from me when I was dead!”
Once again he started shouting, and I’m not ashamed to admit, I was relieved, “Funny thing was I wasn’t dead. They prodded me a little too hard and then WOOP! Woke me up! They hadn’t thought I could move. They hadn’t thought I had it left except for them to take. So I took them! Yes, I took them to their graves and oh did they go willingly! Nearly fell apart in my hands when I actually started ferrying them. I hunted every last one of them – didn’t want to leave anyone out of the fun – and now they’re all dead together. Being happy dead together! They couldn’t get it from me. They didn’t even know where to look. But they weren’t the only ones. No. More came, thinking I was weak, thinking I couldn’t stop them. I took them too! Took them to the same place I’d taken the greys, taken the ones who dragged me out. Showed them what it was they wanted, but didn’t let them have it. I found out how to make it work. I can work any of them now, but I didn’t want to go, because I knew you’d come. And now you’re here! I did it. I held on to it and still have it. They didn’t get a thing from me. Aren’t you happy?”
The endless stream of words halted as though cut off with an axe. He looked up at me, literally panting as he waited for me to respond. Frightened at the reaction any sudden movements might elicit, I slowly put my helmet back on so I could talk to Manny in private. Switching on the translator, I gave him a shrug, “I don’t think asking him how he got the lights working is going to get us much of an answer.”
Manny was by far the most concerned I’d ever seen him, “There was a lot of shouting in that conversation. Was there supposed to be that much? Was it a different language? I know some planets have multiple dialects at once. Is this one based on volume as well as words?”
“No. He’s just a few corndogs short of a picnic. He’s probably missing the blanket, basket, and the rest of the food too, come to think of it.” I knew I’d picked the wrong words even before Manny gave me the inevitable answer.
“Corn dogs? I don’t know what those are, but I don’t think picnics are very good if the only thing you have to eat are nutrient spheres. Try telling me without the use of one of your nonsensical sayings.”
“He’s crazy. Bat-shit, Ape-shit, any-shit, you name it, he’s throwing it and eating the rest. Completely mentally unstable, and from the sounds of it, murdered everyone on this ship and the others floating around here without so much as a speck of remorse. Heck, he doesn’t even seem to think anything’s odd about it.”
I’m pretty sure my partner’s going to die from confusion. That or shock. “But how? I’ve actually seen a mentally challenged person before. Their head had been grazed by a kinetic-pulse, taking some of their brain with it, but the medic had been right next to them when it happened. Somehow he didn’t die, but when he regained consciousness, he wasn’t himself anymore. Something important was missing, and he spent all his time awake drooling and yelling at nothing. I’ve heard stories of others, but they all suffered similar freak accidents. This man’s head looks perfectly normal. Well, I only have yours to go off of, but the basics look the same. How could something have damaged his brain without leaving any sign of it?”
“He could have suffered a concussion, but I’ve never heard of a concussion doing this. I think he just snapped from the pressure.” I didn’t wait for Manthlel to ask; I could already see he didn’t catch my meaning. “He lost his sanity due to too much stress. His brain couldn’t handle the shock of being abducted by aliens and experimented on, so it stopped working properly.”
I think I’ve seen his look of incredulity more than I have his normal expression. “That can happen to your kind?”
My face joined his in the incredulous boat, “That can’t happen to yours?”
“No! Not just the Ruibal, I’ve never heard of any species that has that problem. You’re telling me that your mind can suddenly just stop working properly?”
“Well, it usually takes an inordinate amount of strain to do something like that, but yeah, everyone has a breaking point. Look, I think we’ve lost our focus – again – we need to decide what to do here. We’ve got the mad hatter’s serial killing brother here, and I’m -” I looked to the subject of our conversation and was silenced by the difference. The look of eager anticipation was gone, replaced by suspicion so strong it almost made me paranoid.
“Who’s that?” He asked, once again in that horrible whisper, gesturing to Manny, whose face was concealed behind the helmet. I took mine off again to talk to him.
“Oh him. Oh, he’s, uh . . . my um . . . uh . . . (I don’t come up with good exuses under pressure) um . . . my . . . robot! Yes, he’s my robot, here to help me protect . . . it.” The guy was crazy, okay, it didn’t need to be a good excuse.
Problem was, he didn’t look very appeased by my explanation. If anything he looked even more suspicious than before, which I hadn’t known was possible. “I’ve seen robots though. Oh, yes, I’ve seen them. They have lights. They look different. If that was a robot it would tell Will Robinson he was in danger.”
Really?
“You’re lying to me. You said you were here to get me to protect it I protected it why do you want it why are you lying to me! You thought you were clever didn’t you? You think you’re stronger than me, you thought talking to me would make me trust you, looking like me would make me give, it to you.”
He was getting louder, which I didn’t think that was a good sign. He was obviously dangerous. Whatever else wasn’t working in his dream box, his hand to hand combat skills were at peak efficiency, which lends even more evidence to my hypothesis that whatever’s in charge of the universe hates me. So I, being the kind of guy I am with such a winning personality, tried to calm him down.
“Whoa whoa whoa there man. Take it easy, it’s going to be fine. No one’s going to take it from you, whatever ‘it’ is, and we really are here to take you home.” That was going to be tricky. Frankly, I still didn’t feel good killing this guy. If he’d been in charge of his faculties and he’d done it maliciously I’d have done it in a second, but even though he was probably the closest embodiment to a mad dog I’d ever seen, I’ve never felt right putting dogs down, even if it was technically for the best.
Don’t ask what my plan was, because I honestly didn’t have one. There might have been some half-formed, hardly- considered misting of an idea somewhere in my head that involved taking him back to Earth and handing him over to someone legally qualified to deal with him, but there was so much wrong with it even I could see that right from the start. P2 took the decision out of my hands, though, by jump attacking me.
I actually felt kind of betrayed, being on the receiving end of my only and most effective offensive move, but my degree of caring was somewhat diminished by the slightly less than gentle touch of his hands around my neck. Maybe I should have kept my helmet on. Manny, coming to the rescue for the second time that day threw the psyco off me, following it up with another anti-tank pulse. The suit was only about as strong a roided out jock, though, and there wasn’t enough time between the throwing, aiming, and Manny’s slow reflexes to hit P2. He rolled away from the shot, jumped to his feet, and threw himself from the room.
Picking up my fusion blades from where I’d dropped them I followed Manny in pursuit. After the brightness of the lair, the light of the stars through the windows didn’t seem like much, and I stumbled around for a little bit. I can tell you right now that running after humans is a real pain. They’re really fast, and it’s hard to catch them, and gosh darn it I had almost started thinking that I was actually in shape. P2 disillusioned me mercilessly. Heck, Manny showed me up, and soon I was following the steadily decreasing sounds of the Hulk-suit’s footfalls.
By the time the only sound I could hear was my pathetically heavy breathing I was starting to wish I’d picked up my helmet as well, so I could ask Manny where he was. Instead, I just slowed down do a walk hardly faster than a crawl, and waited for something new to develop. I had no idea where I was. Maybe Manny’s oh-so-fancy suit had a tracking system with which he could find me.
Apparently it did, because he found me several minutes later. Just to add insult to injury, he was still running. “Where did you go?”
I don’t think my ego, which had become perhaps a tad overinflated since I got out here, could survive the truth, “I tripped and by the time I got back up, you were gone. Did you catch him? Where is he?”
“He led me to a small flight deck and got into an extended flight shuttle. I was too far behind to try and take it down with the suit’s plasma cannon, and he hit FTL as soon as he was clear.”
“He can operate a shuttle?!”
“Evidently.”
“How?!”
Manny gave me a look, “Do you honestly expect me to answer that question?”
I didn’t bother to respond to the jibe, “Can we catch him?”
“I doubt it. The Phantom’s FTL is about as basic as it gets. I doubt a Tormix merchant cruiser like this one would bother carrying anything so mediocre on its flight deck. The cargo ship, though, is probably one of the best outfitted cargo ship’s I’ve ever seen, to the point where I wonder what those Vzk’tk’s do with it that it’s so well modified.”
“The previous owners were a lively lot.” I shrugged in explanation.
“Well, it just might be lively enough to manage it.”
Getting back to the Phantom and getting it back into its cargo bay took far too long for my likings, and the moment we were in its inertial dampening field I told Severus to plot a pursuit course for the fleeing shuttle and punch it. Then I had to explain that I didn’t really want him to literally punch it, but just give it as much juice as he had. At that point, Manny took over and told him to follow the shuttle with all possible haste. Once the course was laid and the hum of the FTL started up, Mama asked for an explanation.
Boy was that a fun talk. I skipped all the obstacles that Manny had gotten so hung up on and left it at telling her about the murders and the dangerous fellow we encountered. The silence when I finished was deafening. Several moments passed before Mama broke the it. “If we catch him, do you think we should capture him or try to shoot him? This ship’s weapons are highly effective, considering it’s a cargo hauler, so shooting will probably work, after a few shots.”
I remembered what he had done, and then that he probably didn’t have anything keeping him from being a walking plague ship. If he landed on any habitable planet, I doubted all the grey Yodas in existence could keep the body count below the millions, and gosh darn, wasn’t it easier to pull the trigger when I didn’t have to look into his eyes.
“If you catch him, take him out.”
Mama nodded grimly, stood, and left the room, Severus following her. Manny and I remained, sitting alone on the bridge of the Phantom.
“Are there any other differences of your kind that I should know, Human?” Manny said after several minutes.
“I can burp the Alphabet?” I replied hopefully. He looked at me with that same “That’s-not-funny-now-answer-the-question” expression.
I sighed, “Honestly, I have no idea. Probably, but I wouldn’t have the first clue as to what they are. I’m still finding them out myself.”
“I left the army because you inspired me to be a better person, but I’m starting to wonder if staying wouldn’t have been the safer option.”
For once I didn’t feel like laughing.
Date point: 9y 1m BV
Trading route 1174-653-8526-42
Anticipation had been rising in Valur’s chest for almost a ricta (1.5 weeks), and now made it difficult for him to sit still and relax. He forced himself to, since haste was something he couldn’t afford when facing his quarry. Haste had made him miss with every shot he’d taken, resulting in Xiavo’s death. Haste had killed his friend. He needed to be calm, collected, and efficient when he struck.
To calm himself, he wondered why he still felt the anticipation as a fluttering sensation in his chest. There was nothing biological there anymore, so had there ever been any physical reason for the feeling at all? Had it all been in his head? Idle thoughts for idle times.
The idle times quickly ended as the comm lit up, notifying him of approaching vessels. They were still far off, only having just entered his newly acquired ship’s long-range sensors. As comfortable as it was, his vessel still left something to be desired. He had picked it for its speed, it being able to traverse the trading route in half the time it would take the cargo ship he pursued. It must have been an extremely expensive purchase on the part of its previous owner, and Valur had to admit that, aesthetically, the ship was stunning. Sleek and streamlined, painted in dark shades of grey and black with slashes of dark blue, it was by far the most expensive thing he’d ever driven.
It was for short distances however, and meant to stay far from anything resembling danger. As such, it had nothing in the way of weapons. It wasn’t that he wanted them so as to kill his prey from afar – he would never dream of doing it any other way than in person – but he hated the feeling of defenselessness.
The comm beeped again, this time capturing his whole attention. He stared in shock as the identification tag of the very cargo ship he was hunting glowed back at him from the screen. He hadn’t thought they’d travel back the exact same route. Traders liked to follow a path, sure, but they usually contained dozens of routes. There had to be another reason for their turning back, and he looked once again at the first ship’s readout. Nothing marked it as special to him, but even as he watched, its trajectory changed. Moments later the cargo ship altered course to match.
So it was a chase? Reasons for such a pursuit failed to readily present themselves, but Valur found he didn’t care. It was on one of those ships, and so he would follow. He was happy with his choice of ships now. In lieu of weapons, the manufacturer had instead equipped it with a cloak, thinking to add a modicum of safety. And increase the price by a significant amount, no doubt. Valur wasn’t going to complain. Simple as it was, he doubted either of the detected ships had sensors sophisticated enough to see him with the cloak engaged.
Unnamed cargo ship, in pursuit of unnamed shuttle
“You know, I never asked you,” I broke the tension on the bridge, speaking to Mama, “What’s this ship’s name? I’ve been calling it ‘The Cargo Ship’ in my mind, but that just doesn’t have a ring to it.”
“Well, that’s actually what Vtv wanted to call it, but thankfully he wasn’t in charge of naming. Tnnxz ended up calling it the Redemption, since it was redeemed from its previous lifestyle of piracy through your ministrations.”
“Ah, thanks.” Silence descended on the bridge once again. We were catching up to P2’s shuttle, which I decided to name the Fugitive because I was tired of calling it P2’s shuttle. The Redemption’s FTL outclassed the Fugitive’s, but by perhaps the smallest margin possible. So we were catching up, but at such an unbearably slow pace that he had been able to pick where we would catch him, which was why we were currently heading right into an asteroid field.
Everyone was tense, but I was nearly beside myself with anticipation. I’d heard we were heading for the asteroid field nearly a half an hour ago, and ever since I had been quietly biding my time, waiting for the most opportune moment to execute my plan. I waited another full five minutes until Severus dropped the Redemption out of FTL at the asteroid field the Fugitive had just entered. His final words were “Follow it in.”
I couldn’t ask for a better moment, but I paused, staring. It really was impressive. The Sol asteroid belt had nothing on this one. This star didn’t have planets, only misshapen lumps of rocks and minerals smashing into each other at odd intervals. I had a mission to accomplish however, and after only a second of distraction, sprung the trap I had so patiently prepared. No one was prepared as I opened my mouth and said, “Sir! The possibility of successfully navigating an asteroid field is approximately three thousand, seven hundred and twenty to one!”
In a euphoric haze of joyous glee I watched the horrible reference sail over their heads in so many whistling noises. All eyes turned to stare at me, and though they didn’t know they felt it, I could still see the tortured pain in every one as the overused reference caused me to imagine the groans of anguish that would have been mine to savor, if only they were humans. Then the moment ended.
“Cqcq’trtr, what are you talking about?” Severus asked, “Where did you get that number? Sure, if we went into it blind our chances might be bad, but with the computer any odds are in our favor.”
“Oh, sorry,” I lied, adopting a face of confusion, “I don’t know what came over me. Carry on, code breaker.” With another confused look, everyone turned their attention back to their stations.
I still whispered “Never tell me the odds!” for a sense of catharsis.
The Fugitive shot into the asteroid field, followed closely by the Redemption. The reason he had chosen this particular location became abundantly clear as he kept putting rocks in the way of a clear shot. I had originally thought he had intended to try to lose us in here while we dodged space boulders, but now I could see that with the sensors working there was no way he was going to be able to give us the slip.
Which then started me wondering. How was he going to try to get rid of us? His shuttle didn’t have weapons, Mama had told me that a while ago – sorry I’m just telling you now, Journal – so he had to know that eventually he would make a mistake and we’d take the shot. Maybe he came here knowing it was useless. Maybe I’m giving too much credit to the patient of an insane asylum.
“Tnnxz, he’s turned about and is heading for us.” Comm guy said, breaking my internal dialogue. Severus looked confused, which worried me. I was confused too, but I can still make decisions while in a state of non-understanding. I didn’t trust Severus to be possessed of the same ability. Comm guy spoke up again, “Scratch that, he’s not just heading for us, it’s a head on collision course, he’s basically lined the shot up for us by himself-”
The words “collision course” told me everything I needed to know, and I interrupted Comm guy’s self-congratulatory sentence by shouting with everything I could muster, “Shoot him!” I would have said “Fire”, but I was scared they’d think I was trying to point out an actual fire. More because of the loudness of my yell than having what I said actually register, Tactical guy, who’d had his blue toe-fingers suspended over the button ever since we’d entered the asteroid field, punched it.
Plasma bolts erupted from the fore cannons, crossed the diminishing distance in an instant, and detonated against the Fugative’s hull. It didn’t die. I guess all ships have shields, even if they don’t have weapons. I’ll kick myself for not thinking about that later, but at that moment I was more aware of the fact that the Fugitive, which had a rather pointy bow now that I took the nanosecond to notice, was still coming straight at the viewing screen and the bridge.
In the final moments of desperation I shoved Comm guy out of way – which turned into me shoving him out of his chair and into the adjacent wall – and hit the maneuvering thrusters with everything they could handle. The ship twisted, plunging the bridge into my subjective definition of down while spinning it in a roll to my subjective definition of clockwise. The result was that the sounds of screaming metal and protesting structural forcefields emanated from somewhere back in the cargo bays rather than directly in front of my face.
Everyone on the bridge was in shock. Severus was the first to say something. “He hit us! He actually full on flew his ship right into us! He’s insane!”
“I told you so, although that decision actually made sense.” Severus looked at me with the usual dumbfounded expression, but I didn’t have the time to explain the reason why ramming was a pretty logical move in this P2’s situation. “Manny, come with me. Severus, is there a way to seal off the cargo bays from the rest of the living quarters of the ship?”
I’d already called him that several times, and Severus responded to my nickname just as quickly as he did to his tongue mangling given one. “Yes, of course.”
The thought suddenly occurred to me, “Are you able to jettison the cargo bays themselves?”
“On cargo ships licensed to carry hazardous materials, yes, but this one isn’t. So no.” Of course not, that would have been too easy.
“Alright, I’m going to check if he survived the impact. Once Manny and I get back there, seal off the cargo bays. Is engineering back there like it was on the old ship?”
“No.” Oh, that’s nice. A little luck does get thrown my way.
Manny and I left the bridge at a run. Well, he wasn’t in the hulk-suit, so it was more like a light jog to me. “You’re going to need to get in your suit as soon as possible,” I told him, “And once you’re in switch it over to its vacuum mode. I don’t want you breathing any of the air if his ship’s lodged in a cargo bay.” Manny gave me the familiar thumbs up with every one of his arms, biological and mechanical. Teaching him that was probably the best thing I’ve ever done.
The moment we stepped into the long hall that acted as a passageway between all the cargo bays, a security forcefield activated behind us, cutting us off from the rest of the ship. The Phantom was in cargo bay 9, which brought back all kinds of fun, orange filled memories, but it also meant we had to travel past most of the cargo bays before we could get to it. on our way past 3 I could see the impact site. As I had feared, He’d hit a cargo bay loaded to the ceiling with crates, putting a significantly larger amount of matter in his way which had resulted in his getting lodged inside of it rather than punching through to the other side. Even worse, I could see his ship’s structural forcefields had managed to hold, and despite its missing bow, the bridge, located in the middle and top of the ship, was still intact.
The cargo bay’s structural fields were operating as well, which meant 3 still had an atmosphere, despite the massive hole in the roof. I waved Manny to keep going on to 9, while I stepped through the ruined door of 3 to investigate. Maybe P2 had died in the crash. All sorts of things could happen. I know these ships were built to be safe, but things could fail. Maybe the inertial dampeners had broken and P2 was just a bloodstain on the window. Just as this thought occurred to me, P2, looking decidedly unlike a bloodstain, stumbled from the ruins of his battering ram. To make the situation that much more pleasant, he was giggling to himself as he picked his unsteady way over the debris strewn floor.
“You wanted it, right? Right?! I came here to show it to you.” The giggle became maniacal laughter, “See? See it?!”
I didn’t, but I had a feeling I wouldn’t have liked it if I had.