Date point: 8y 11m BV
Stolen Hunter ship, en route to the Class 3 planet Perfection
Dear journal,
6 weeks, 6 days
I was in trouble. Better yet, I knew I was in trouble the moment I woke up from my blood-loss induced coma. The trouble had something to do with the intense pain coming from my midriff. Apparently replacing what had looked like half my blood after a good puking session hadn’t been easy on my internal food supply, and hunger pains throbbed with the same intensity as any Hunter bite. This is where the trouble came in. The only food on the ship was the dead bodies of once living sapient species.
I didn’t even need to think about it. I didn’t care how hungry I felt. I was not eating that. Deciding such a thing didn’t make my hunger go away, though, and I wasn’t going to survive the whole trip without food. Even if the cargo ship had been slow, it had still taken it about a week to get from Perfection to the attack site. A week without food, an already empty stomach, and only a small amount of stored fat didn’t look good for me. I knew I technically could survive the trip, but by the time I got to the end my body would have started metabolizing muscle – muscle that I needed if I was going to chase after the Mutant right after I handed Jaws to Vakno.
I considered stopping by a station on the way and asking for some food, but even I could spot the problem with that. I’d have loved to see the response of any trading station if a Hunter ship had suddenly decloaked and started asking for dough spheres. Besides, I was on a time crunch and didn’t have any money, so even if I took the time to convince the station commander that I really wasn’t there to board and eat everyone in sight, I wouldn’t have had any legal way of getting food.
Putting aside my thoughts of sustenance, I stood. Scabs cracked and flexed as my shoulders and neck moved, loosening stiff muscles. It felt as though I were wearing something with shoulder pads and a stiff collar. Even as the scabs reopened, the dried foam, which had formed a thin, translucent layer of white over and around my injuries, kept them from leaking blood again. Having finished a physical inventory, I checked my paraphernalia. Both lava scimitars were safe and secure in their sheath lying beside the where I’d been sleeping. My robe was covered in blood, most of it Hunter rather than Human, but it was blessedly free of any rips or tears – it was a good robe. Better yet, its deepest pocket held my twin-blade.
Drawing it out into the light – dim as it was – I admired its reflective black surface which reminded me overwhelmingly of obsidian stone. I’d been doing that lately, taking out the blade purely to admire it. Not that there was anything abnormal about that. I turned it slowly in my hands, entranced by the shifting silhouettes, the smooth texture. I would have enjoyed taking longer, but my stomach growled, reminding me of more pressing matters. Carefully returning the twin-blade to its pocket, I set about the ship, looking for something, anything, that could be used as a food source. Aside from a few wall hangings that looked like some form of animal skin, I didn’t see anything I wanted to put in my mouth. As for the wall hangings, I didn’t feel like taking the chance that they weren’t animal skins. As though to mock the persistent reminders coming from my seriously spoiled stomach – he’d become far too reliant upon the whole “three meals a day” treatment – my ship-wide search ended at the doorway to the meat locker.
Hoping that they stored something in there other than sapients – in case they ran out, I didn’t know – I pushed the button to open the door and stepped inside. The ship’s atmosphere was humid; far more so than any other alien ship I’d been on so far. The moist air felt heavy and somehow . . . diseased. Inside the meat locker, though, the air was drier. I didn’t know why, seeing as how they were using stasis pods to keep their food from rotting – I guess even Hunters don’t want rotten raw meat.
I paused, examining that last observation for longer than I’d like to admit before I realized. The stasis pods.
That was a far more attractive option than suffering through the entire trip hungry. Of course, on the downside, if I put myself in a stasis pod and someone attacked the ship– an eventuality made even more likely by this being a Hunter ship – I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. I didn’t know how to program the pods to disengage if the ship was attacked, and I doubted they had a convenient button for me to hit that would accomplish that. Still, I’d heard Hunter stealth tech was good, and I could tell it to take a less populated route. So long as I had it wake me before I got too close to Perfection, I’d be safe. At least that’s what I guessed, and having the entire trip take – to me – only a few seconds sounded extremely appealing.
Practically skipping at the prospect of sleeping away the trip in blissful oblivion, I returned to the bridge to make the necessary adjustments to the course. A few minutes at the helm and the ship was on an automated flight path that kept it well away from any habitation. It also added an entire month to the travel time. That reality brought me down. I’d thought it would add another day, maybe two, but a month? I didn’t want to waste so much time. In a month the Mutant could become even more difficult for me to find, or, worse yet, more powerful.
I didn’t have another option, or at least one that left me in any fighting shape by the time I found out where he was. Locking in the course, I strode out of the bridge with a quick step. Stasis didn’t seem so friendly any more. It was sucking time away, time I desperately wanted. The only other option would be to starve myself or try to find an uninhabited planet to scavenge. The first option took too much time on the recovery, and the other was too uncertain for me to guarantee a quick turnaround.
Arriving back at the meat locker, I found an empty stasis pod next to Jaws’. Carefully setting it to wake me a day before I arrived at Perfection, I climbed in. The pod had obviously been repurposed by the Hunters – recycled from a ship of one of their many victims – since there was an activation button inside the pod as well as out. Unless, of course, the Hunters built these pods with the hope that their prey would obligingly place themselves into food storage of their own volition. Engaging the field, I closed my eyes.
8y 9m 3w BV
Class 3 planet Perfection
The Contact was bored. There were several factors contributing to her condition, but the greatest by far was her current appointment. Dull did not even begin to describe him. Droning on his monotonic baritone – the only noteworthy quality of which seemed to be its extraordinary soporific effects – he was the co-president of the leading weapons manufacturer in the known galaxy, and therefore one of her wealthiest clients. He was also a Vzk’tk. Once upon a time such a seemingly atypical combination had intrigued her, leading to her acceptance of him as a client when he had contacted her so many cycles ago. It had taken only one meeting with him to discover the secret behind his attainment of a position rarely filled by a Vzk’tk, but she had accepted his money and had a reputation to uphold.
The answer had been so simple she cursed every time she thought of it. Of course he was a puppet for his company’s board, how else would a Vzk’tk have transformed a small, unknown trading company into a sprawling economic powerhouse? He was intelligent as far as Vzk’tk went – that was true – but one could stretch plausibility only so far. He and those of his family who inherited his position would no doubt remain at the mercy of their puppeteers for generations to come, too slow to realize and therefore mercifully ignorant of their inconsequential nature. His daughter had had a shot at seizing control of the company form the board, but she had left the family and her inheritance so as to avoid its responsibility and in pursuit of her heart.
“Does that answer your question?” the simple minded creature asked.
Snapping out of her stupor, Vakno quickly reviewed her memories of what had been said. The ability to unconsciously listen to a conversation while concentrating on something else was a vital skill in her field of work. As she had expected, he’d said nothing she hadn’t already discovered [two weeks] previous. Affecting an expression of interest, she smiled, “Yes, it most certainly did. I can always count on your exceedingly thorough responses to my queries. Based off of your answers I can take several discreet lines of investigation that should hopefully bring me closer to discovering whether or not your fears are justified.”
She already knew they were. His wife – a rather shameless Rrrrtktktktkp’ch – had already had three affairs since The Contact had entered her attractively wealthy husband’s employ. The only reason Vakno hadn’t told him yet was because his wife paid better than he did.
A notification popped up on the display of her reception room’s ancient computer. She hadn’t bothered taking the cuckolded Vzk’tk into her more comfortable sitting room; if she was going to have to listen to him then they might as well both be uncomfortable. Interrupting his overly lengthy thanks with a dry cough, she spoke before he could continue. “I’m terribly sorry but I have another appointment shortly and am not in the habit of being late. I will contact you with anything I discover. Goodbye.”
As he left the room she contacted the pair of mercenaries she employed as doormen. Glancing up to make sure the Vzk’tk was out of earshot, she whispered, “My next client will be here any [second]. Please delay them from entering my reception room until I say otherwise.” Ending the comm link before either guard could acknowledge their understanding, she sprang from her chair – it really was far too uncomfortable, she needed a new one – and entered the sitting room through the hidden door in her office. “Room, display incoming message on screen,” she snapped the moment the door had closed and the anti-surveillance systems reengaged.
The rooms holo-display activated, resolving into a face she’d started to wonder if she’d ever see again.
“Hey Vakno, long time go fuck yourself.”
Despite herself, the Corti smiled. It lasted only a moment before it was replaced by a glare, “What took you so long? Why haven’t I heard anything from you? Where are you? Why can’t I get in contact with Densda?” The Human, unfazed by her snarling interrogation, remained impassive.
“I was busy. I was sleeping. One day out from Perfection. He’s dead.” He stated conversationally, answering her questions as though he were telling her about a decent meal he’d once had.
Densda, dead. She cursed. He’d been exceptionally useful. This hadn’t even been the hardest mission she’d sent him on; how could he be dead? “Densda, did you see him die?” she asked, holding her breath.
“Not in person, but good enough. I watched through the sensors as the Hunters overran the cargo ship. There weren’t any survivors and I doubt the Hunters would have let any escape pods get too far.”
So he wasn’t confirmed. Vakno had seen too many miraculous survivals from Densda and several of his crew to completely believe tales of his death without direct eyewitness accounts. Still, he had to take care of himself, if he was still alive. Putting the hard-bitten Allebenellin out of her mind she reviewed the communication information coming from the Human’s side. The computer didn’t recognize the ship’s designator. “What are you calling me from? You said the cargo ship had been overrun so how-” her eyes widened, “No. You stole a Hunter raider?”
The smugness in the Human’s grin was as obvious as it was in his voice, “I don’t know the differences between the various Hunter vessels, but I’ll trust your judgment and say yes.” He grew serious, “Hence the reason I’m calling you and not just signing up for your next open appointment. This ship’s cloak is good, but I doubt a heavily populated world like Perfection doesn’t have the sensors to see me the moment I enter the system. I looked around, and the only ‘shuttles’ this ship has look more like the kind of dropship you use only once. That means you’re coming to me if you want your live Hunter, but I want you to bring some other stuff when you come – in addition to the information I wanted, of course.”
Vakno ground her teeth. She hated people telling her how she was going to do something. Worse yet, the infuriating Human was right, there was no easy way for him to come to her. The Vzk’tk cargo ship he’d arrived on was still in orbit, but Vakno assumed he would have been intelligent enough to use them as his safe means of approach without the need of contacting her first. That meant there was another reason he wasn’t using that resource. The only reasons that came to her were that he didn’t want them to know what he had been doing, or he didn’t want them to know he was back. Either held interesting implications. Still, she wasn’t going to push him too hard – just a little.
Her face became blank, betraying nothing. “And what would this ‘other stuff’ entail?” she asked, intentionally allowing hints of scorn and indignation to enter her voice. If he was observant he would take note of her tone and phrase his next words in a more polite fashion.
Either he hadn’t noticed or didn’t care if he offended her. “First I’m going to need some food,” he said, sounding for all the world like he was talking to his personal attendant. “Nothing fancy, just a month or two’s supply of those tasteless grey dough sphere’s that are all the rage in starships that aren’t crewed by cannibalistic Borg-spider-crabs. Next I want some dehumidifiers, or at least something that’ll make it so I don’t feel like I’m taking a bath every time I walk into another room. Lastly you’ll need to come in a ship that’s big enough to hold the bodies of the Hunters’ victims, and I want your personal guarantee you’ll see them get a proper burial or whatever each respective species does to honor their dead.”
She allowed the silence to drag, ostensibly to make sure he was done, but in reality taking the time to calm her breathing. The gall of asking her, The Contact, to be his personal . . . personal errand girl was outrageous! She couldn’t keep her face blank – even with her practice – so she smiled slightly. Making her voice as sweet as she could – a tone that even an imbecile like him should know meant danger – she asked, “Is that all?”
Still seemingly oblivious to the affect his words had caused, the Human thought for a moment before nodding. “Yup, that’ll be about it.”
Still smiling, she asked in that sickly sweet voice, “And what do you intend to trade for these services?”
He looked slightly confused – was he really that gormless? “Do you want the hunter or don’t you?”
“Of course I do, and our agreement was that in exchange for a live hunter I will most graciously forget about your lack of ability to pay me,” she purred, “Refurbishing your ship did not once enter into our agreement, so I’ll ask again. What additional funds or commodities have you acquired for use as payment for these favors?”
He scowled at her words. She felt a muscle twitch as she continued to smile.
Finally he spoke. “The Hunter I captured was bigger than all the others,” came the lame reply.
Her anger instantly evaporated in a flash of excitement. Had he captured a pack leader? Autopsies performed by Corti researchers who studied Hunters had said that their techniques of hunting and neural structure suggested a hierarchical society, which in non-sapient carnivorous species tended to express itself much in the same way as a monarchical government: with a single, central leader who ruled through a group of underlings who, in turn, controlled their own group and so on. The researchers had suggested that if this societal model were correct, then it would be present even on an individual pack level, with a clearly superior leader making all important decisions.
The only problem was that Hunters didn’t have translators, and it wasn’t as though someone was going to implant one. Without the ability to observe the interactions between a Hunter captain and his crew, no one would be able to conclusively prove that the relationship was that of a pack leader – an Alpha – to his inferiors rather than simply that of a captain to his crew as could be seen in nearly all well-commanded starships throughout the galaxy. Capturing a live Hunter could have ended the question, but if he had captured a live Alpha . . .
The possibilities continued to present themselves to Vakno, but she schooled her face, changing nothing, though now the smile was genuine. “And you believe that just because it’s larger than expected I should be impressed?” She said, voice no longer piercingly sweet.
“Hey, four isn’t that far behind the global aver- oh. I was hoping it would count for something,” he shrugged, “Maybe he’s the captain or the Hunter equivalent.” He really wasn’t that smart, was he? Even though the Human couldn’t possibly know the extent of her knowledge – the reports on the autopsies and resultant hypotheses had been classified, but that meant next to nothing to The Contact – or why she would want the Alpha, he could have at least assumed that she had reached such a simple conclusion as “perhaps this Hunter is important.” Still, if she could get more out of him she would. He did, after all, have a Hunter vessel.
“Allow me to make a few assumptions and say that the motivation behind the favors you seek is that you intend to use your newly acquired vessel to track down the being you asked me to locate.” She didn’t wait for his confirming nod before continuing. “Here’s a counter offer. I’ll supply you with your own ship that is just as fast and just as well stocked – though perhaps significantly smaller – as the Hunter ship, and you give it and everything on it to me.”
She could see him mulling it over, carefully going through her words, looking for a deception. There wasn’t one. she was already getting more than she could have hoped for if he said no, and he still owed her two more favors. There wouldn’t have been any point in backstabbing him at the moment.
“I want it to have a cloak – one just as good as or better than this one’s,” he said, breaking the silence.
Getting a ship with such a cloak – though possible if you knew the right people – was neither cheap nor expedient. Still, as long as a few of her many contacts that were the source of her title were given time to study the Hunter cloak design, there was no reason the Human couldn’t have it when she was finished. There were other reasons she wanted the Hunter ship as well. Making her final decision, she nodded. “Done. I’ll contact you once everything’s prepared. You can send me your exact coordinates then, but don’t move far from where you are right now or I won’t be able to find you.”
Severing the link, Vakno contacted her doormen once again. “Cancel my appointments for today,” she said the moment the link was established. “If they ask why tell them The Contact has something more important than them to see to.” Her schedule now liberated, Vakno began the many preparations she needed before she could contact the Human again. She needed to be fast.
Three days later
Being bored is a horrible experience. Being bored while hungry is even worse. Being bored while hungry on a ship full of dead bodies, some rotting and some held in suspended animation while waiting for a call that has no estimated time frame that will allow you to do what every fiber of your being is yearning to start while sweating profusely because some morons think it’s comfortable to keep the humidity just below the dew point definitely takes the cake. Only a day after Vakno had contacted me I had disobeyed her orders.
Rather than staying exactly where I had been, I traveled to a nearby nebula that had an asteroid field in it and amused myself by practicing my piloting skills. It didn’t hurt that the Hunter ship was one of the most maneuverable ships I’d ever flown, which admittedly wasn’t saying much as I hadn’t flown that many ships. Still, my time in the army had shown me what was out there in the way of engines and weapons systems, and the Hunter vessel had plenty of both. But flying around and proving that playing the real version of asteroids wasn’t that hard got tiring after a while, so I went back to being bored. I’d have exercised if I hadn’t been so hungry. I didn’t even feel like moving my arms, let alone go running.
So all things considered, the fact that I didn’t break into tears of joy when Vakno contacted me was a plus. I may have come across a little more gruff than I’d initially intended.
“Well you took you fucking time about it didn’t you!” I shouted when I answered her call.
“What are you doing!” oh she was pissed, “I told you to stay put! It’s taken me [hours] to find you.” Considering the cloak was still up that was actually really impressive. Still, I wasn’t going to let her put all the blame on me.
“You said I shouldn’t go too far from where I’d called you from, and when you think of the vastness of space, one system over isn’t really all that far away.” If she kept grinding her teeth like that she’d be applying for dentures in a few months.
“It doesn’t matter now,” she fumed, “I found you and you can send me your coordinates. Considering how far away we are from any sensors you might as well just decloak.”
Obliging on both counts, it was another minute before the ship soon-to-be-mine docked. Looking at it, my new ship wouldn’t be winning any style awards any time soon, but it was a sight better than the old Phantom had been. Rather than retractable landing gear, the frame of the ship had four points which extended past the main body. Every surface was angled, looking like the oddly faceted body of a F-117 Nighthawk, though I assumed the appearance to be only that – for looks. I hadn’t once seen xenos employ anything remotely resembling stealth. Combined with the protruding landing gear, odd body, and small size, it looked like an insect. Without knowing how powerful the weapons systems were, or how quick it was, I couldn’t tell you what kind of insect, so I held off naming it until I knew more about the little vessel.
Vakno strode through the airlock – a queen in her domain – followed by several other Corti pulling hover palates loaded with equipment. While The Contact moved to talk to me her entourage continued on into the rest of the ship. Suddenly excited at how close I was to being able to continue in my pursuit of the Mutant, my anger and annoyance – due mostly to hunger – lessened. I purposefully reigned in what was left. Offending Vakno now could do nothing but harm.
“And what are they doing?” I growled, following them with my eyes. Okay, maybe I wasn’t as under control as I thought.
She gave me a look that plainly said I was being unprofessional. “If I am to ensure that this ship is not intercepted en route to its next destination, some modifications are necessary. Also, they will install its cloaking device onto your new ship. Believe it or not, Hunter-equivolent cloaking devices are difficult to acquire, as they are technically nonexistent.”
I had no doubt that she was telling the truth, but I had a feeling she wasn’t telling me everything. I wasn’t going to push her though. I was getting everything I’d asked for; what she did or didn’t tell me wouldn’t affect that – I hoped. Turning my attention to her, I couldn’t see anything that looked like the information I wanted. “I held up my side of the bargain, where’s my information?”
“You’ll get it the moment I see the live hunter,” she looked about the blood splattered and body strewn visage of the docking bay with mild distaste. If she had been any other xeno I’d have expected her to be making her own mess on the floor.
Smiling, I led Vakno away from the carnage, “It’s right over here. Just remember you only said it had to be alive, not completely whole.”
She gave me a sharp look, but said nothing. Walking the rest of the way in silence, I showed her to the meat locker. Upon entering she surveyed the bodies held in suspension with a slight tightening around the eyes in what easily could have been disgust as it was anger. Her eyes soon found the pod containing the hunter. Walking up to it, she looked it over, only noticing the severed arm – it’d completely detached as I’d dragged it to the stasis pod – after several seconds.
Squinting at the wound, she gave me a sidelong glance. “You mainly use those fusion blades on your back, right? Almost all the wounds I saw back in the docking bay seemed to suggest that. Fusion blades and the occasional punch – or is it a kick – judging by the few bodies that seemed to have had their chests flattened. What caused this?” She gestured to the arm, which even I could tell hadn’t been cut by a fusion blade or smashed by a fist.
I shrugged. “I couldn’t have hit him or he’d have died, same with a fusion blade. The stuff I used to knock him out wasn’t working fast enough and he was biting me. I used what was available. Turns out Hunters can dish it but they sure as hell can’t take it.”
She looked confused for the slightest moment. The her eyes bulged, face twisting in shock and disgust, mouth open slightly. I smiled widely. I’d never gotten a reaction from her like that before, and I supremely enjoyed it. Doubting that I’d be able to do it again any time soon, I savored the moment. It took a while for it to subside, but eventually she got her features under control.
“So did I pass?” I asked, deciding to make sure she realized I knew.
“Excuse me?” She replied, expression the picture of earnest confusion.
“Your test,” I continued, “You gave me this task to gauge how much my favors were worth and if I was worth keeping alive. Did I pass?”
A small smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. “Perhaps your idiocy is due to inexperience rather than lack of intelligence. Believe me, if you hadn’t passed – though still somehow survived the task itself – we wouldn’t be conversing right now.”
“Good to know,” I remarked, grinning, “Now where’s my information?”
She gave quick nod. “The details have been downloaded into your new ship’s computer, but I’ll tell you a few things I had neglected to add that were contingent upon how pleased I was with your delivery. The individual you want is named Valur, a soldier in the Celzi alliance until about [six months] ago. He was assumed to have been killed during the Dominion attack upon the sensor station at Utgul-3, a battle I believe you are already familiar with. Discovering that little facet of knowledge came as a pleasant surprise. He resurfaced – complete with mechanical augmentations – at a category 10 medical station a [month] after the battle. Most recently he has been seen in several locations that would suggest he is conducting a manhunt of his own. He has also met with beings that I happen to know, asking after the whereabouts of a war criminal by the name of Quym.”
“This is the part that, had you failed to impress me somewhat, you would not have been told. The current whereabouts of Quym are not known for certain – I’ve rarely seen such a large price on a beings head – but I believe I have pinpointed his probable location. Coming to the conclusion I did was no small feat, and would not have been possible by anyone less informed than myself, but I believe he is holed up in a moon base on the fringes of the Ilrayen Band.” She said the last two words as though I should know them. I put on my most obviously confused face to inform her of my ignorance.
“The Ilrayen band is a section of space where almost any ‘habitable’ world you come across will be a deathworld,” Vakno explained with an exasperated sigh. “Almost no one ever goes there, there’s no point, which is – obviously – why Quym would go into hiding there. Remember how I said one less informed than I would have been unable to guess where Quym is hiding? Valur is quickly approaching the extent of my knowledge in respects to the war criminal. The fact that he is able to do such a thing proves his intelligence to where I have no doubt he will eventually come to the same conclusion as myself. I believe it would be a more beneficial use of your time if you were to reach Quym before Valur does, rather than trail in his footsteps. The exact coordinates of the Quym’s moon have already been input into your ship’s navigational array and awaiting your command to lock it in. Have I suitably answered your question?”
I smiled in what I thought was a friendly manner. Vakno shivered. Was it cold in here? “You most certainly did. Thank you.”
Looking slightly troubled, Vakno inclined her head in acknowledgment of my thanks.
Leaving The Contact standing alone before the frozen Hunter, I headed for the docking bay towards my new ship. Adrenaline pumping, I moved through the airlock. I was so close. Only one thing left to do. Ready or not, here I come.