Slightly dazed, Milt barely noticed the ballistic Gaoian lending him a paw. Milt accepted the help and carefully stood, letting the Gaoian guide him across the room. It took Milt a few seconds to realize that he was standing on the cross again.
“Get down! Now!” a voice called from the field in front of him. Milt’s ears dropped as another very hard looking operative charged towards him. A misaimed slide-tackle struck him in the balls, leaving him howling in agony. The Gaoian yanked Milt’s limbs out from under him as he flew by, and pulled himself over Milt as soon as he collapsed to the ground. Without a word, this Gaoian stood and, too, helped Milt to his feet.
Milt soon found himself alone again, his mind swimming. He barely had a chance to hear a shouted command as yet another furry projectile impacted his shoulder. A thought struck him at roughly the same time as the floor. Maybe, just maybe, he had made a mistake asking Ronovin for help.
Milt spent the rest of the day as a pounce target, interrupted only a few times by visits to a small medical bay. He took part in several variants of hostage rescue and target capture scenarios, all having the same rather concussive commonality. After several hours, he was beat. No, that was inaccurate; He was beat in the first few minutes. Now he was… something worse. He knew there was a word for that, but his mind simply didn’t care to reveal it.
…It would probably be best to give his head a rest.
Ronovin approached him. “Thanks for the help, Brother. It’s not often the recruits have a chance to practice with an unprepared target. Most volunteers get scared off after the first few blows.”
Milt tried to sit up. He soon found that his muscles were far too sore to do even that. “Volunteers? I… I thought this was part of the training.”
Ronovin loomed over Milt, carefully positioning himself in the splayed-out Gaoian’s field of view. He flicked an ear mischievously. “After your lessons covering trap evasion, I thought it would only be fair to offer some hostile environment conditioning.”
Milt stared at Ronovin, unable to think of an appropriate response.
Ronovin merely pant-grinned as he plopped down next to Milt. He began roughly working Milt’s leg. “It’s a shame that Chuck ain’t here. He’s a lot better at this than I am. Somehow.”
After several minutes of kneading and pulling, Milt was able to climb back to his hindpaws, still sore, but at least able to walk.
Ronovin led him to a small lounge. Inside, the Brothers that had spent the day thoroughly crushing him were preparing a feast.
One of them addressed Milt. “Thank you for your assistance, Brother. Come, sit.”
Milt sat in the offered chair as another Brother poured him a glass of talamay.
Ronovin pulled up a chair next to him. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to volunteer again.”
Milt sighed. “I asked for your help. It’s only fair that I provide help in return.” Milt pondered a moment before an idea came to mind. He glanced around and leaned in close, whispering. “If I do come back… Do I have to fight fair?”
Ronovin pant-grinned, likewise leaning in close. “Brother, you absolutely do not.” He set a paw on Milt’s shoulder. “Just try not to hurt them too bad.”
Ronovin sat back upright as dinner was brought to the table. The six of them enjoyed dinner, discussing the day’s events. They were polite to Milt, perhaps even somewhat grateful for his help, but each of them had that Keeda-damned smug superiority complex typical of a Gaoian that knew no defeat.
Milt dined well. But as he did, he planned. Tomorrow should be fun.
1y9m2w BV
Pekin’s office, Ironclaw Assembly Facility, Gao
Chuck
Pekin was not a well-composed Gaoian. During the entire trip to his office, he darted back and forth, nervously glancing around. Luckily, the halls were nearly empty.
“Calm down, Pekin, try acting a bit less… crazy.”
“Quiet! Someone will hear you!” Pekin hissed.
Chuck shrugged… for some reason. It’s not like anyone could see him; he was all but invisible, courtesy of Ronovin’s cloak.
Eventually, Pekin scampered into a room. Chuck followed.
“Are you in here?” Pekin whispered.
Chuck lowered his hood and nodded.
Pekin’s ears flattened in panic as he quickly slammed the door.
The window to Chuck’s right caught his eye for just a moment, before the shimmering fractal of a privacy field blocked his view. “Hold up, Pekin. Let me see that again.” He cocked his head towards the window.
Pekin stood nervously behind his desk. “Why? What is there to see?”
“I’m not sure, that’s why I want to look.” He put his hood back up.
After a brief hesitation, Pekin dropped the field.
Chuck glanced out into the factory floor below. His first instincts appeared to be correct. How the hell could Ironclaw expect to accomplish anything with such obviously terrible industrial processes? “Pekin, am I correct in assuming that this is where you build commodity shuttlecraft?”
Pekin glanced out the window. “Yes?”
“How many ships do you build a day here?”
Pekin’s ears twisted slightly. “A day? It takes us three weeks per ship, but we build them three at a time, as you can see.”
Chuck did see. There were three small shuttles in various stages of construction along the left wall of the hangar. A rather large number of racks lined the right wall of the hangar, each housing one small component of a shuttle. Numerous Gaoians walked back and forth between the ships and the racks, carrying parts to each of the ships.
“How can you keep up with demand building one shuttle a week?”
Pekin spoke nervously as he raised the privacy field again. “We have several dozen of these facilities.”
Chuck shook his head, again forgetting that he could not be seen. “That can’t be right. You have, what, twenty billion Gaoians on the planet? You’d need millions of shuttles to service that many, correct?”
“Yes… we import most of the shuttles we require.”
“You shouldn’t have to. With the right assembly line you could crank them out nearly as fast as you wanted.”
Pekin glanced a few paces to Chuck’s left. “Do you believe that you have better assembly techniques?” He perked an ear in interest. “Please, tell me what a human would do here.” He sniffed the air, then turned slightly past where Chuck was standing.
“Well, some of the most advanced assembly lines on Earth are the automobile plants. Some of them can build over a thousand cars a day.”
“A thousand…” Pekins ears perked in wonder. “No, it can’t be possible.” He tapped his foot. “Oh, I think I see. How many parts does the finished device have?”
“Uh. A few tens of thousands, I think?”
Pekin shook his head, pacing again briefly before coming to a halt. He stared intently at where Chuck wasn’t standing. “Okay, Chuck. Tell me what we are doing wrong.”
“The most obvious problem that I can see from here is that you are dragging the small parts to the large one. It is always more efficient to use a conveyance system to move the large part to the small ones. That way your Brothers don’t have to spend all of their time walking to the racks.”
“Well, yes, but component staging is very difficult. All the motion that would be required… That seems excessively complicated.”
Chuck laughed. “Yeah, it can be. Trying to route all the parts from other facilities all the way to the individual assembly stations can be a challenge.”
“Other facilities?” Pekin tilted his head in confusion. “We manufacture all of our parts just on the other side of the racks.”
Chuck chuckled again. “Well, that certainly makes the job easy.”
Pekin remained confused. “What job?”
“Give me a hand here. Let’s see what we can come up with.”
Pekin held his head in his paws “I don’t believe it.” He broke into a chitter. “Twelve shuttlecraft per day!”
Chuck smiled. “I told you.”
Pekin shook his head as he scrolled through his notes. “I simply can’t… but the figures all work out. I can find nothing missing.” He turned to Chuck. “Do you have any idea how valuable this plan could be?”
Chuck smirked. “I might.”
Pekin pounced on Chuck in excitement, landing in the human’s outstretched arms. His ears dropped as he realized what he had done. “I’m sorry, Chuck… I-”
Chuck silenced Pekin with a wave as he set him back down on his feet. “Don’t worry about it.”
“This is all just…” Pekin hesitated. “You came here for something.”
Chuck nodded. “I did.”
“I hope I can help. What do you need?”
“I want to cloak the Carpe Aeternum.”
“Cloak? As in render invisible?” Pekin shook his head furiously. “That simply can’t be done.”
“Why not? That Hunter ship had a cloaking device.”
Pekin hesitated. “Yes, because that is a Hunter vessel. We simply don’t have the technology available.”
“What about the Hunter ship that I brought back?”
Pekin glanced around the office conspiratorially, as he inspected the privacy field controls. “It did have such a device, but the core of the cloaking engine was damaged. We were unable to reconstruct it.”
“Ok. So, what do you need?”
“Need? To cloak your ship? A cloaking engine! Or at least the core of one.”
“Can it be designed to only cloak some parts of the ship?”
Pekin paused. “Yes, in theory, but it depends greatly on the model of cloaking engine used.”
“Well then, get me a list of features you need, and I’ll get you your engine.”
Pekin shook his head. “That is impossible! No faction would provide a human with such a device!”
Chuck shrugged. “The Hunters did.”
Pekin opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He finally shook his head clear. “If you can find someone willing to sell a human a Keeda-damned cloaking engine, I should be able to do the rest.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Pekin tilted his head, mouth still agape. “That is not a plan. That’s…” He sighed. “You’re going to figure out a way to do this… somehow… aren’t you?”
“That’s the plan. I look forward to my cloaking system and hydroponics lab.” Chuck smiled.
Pekin merely duck-nodded.
Chuck stared at Pekin. “So, uh… any chance you can give me a ride back to my ship?”
Pekin duck-nodded again, chittering softly.
1y9m1w6d BV
Training room, Whitecrest Clan Enclave, Wi Kao, Gao
Milt
One day is not long enough for a proper development cycle. Design, implementation, troubleshooting, deployment, all of these took time that he did not have. So, a general purpose toolkit was simply not going to happen and, thus, his new toolkit had been hastily designed and constructed specifically for the challenges in which he had been so thoroughly beaten on the day prior. Still, he was rather proud at what he had created in such a short time.
Ronovin had reluctantly agreed to repeat the same exercises. And so, Milt found himself standing, again, in the padded room atop the cross. But today he’d have the final pounce, for this time he was wearing a tank. Not an entire tank, of course, but all the interesting components; dampers, kinetics and a forcefield generator. The first two systems were there to keep him upright, while the third prevented him from being squished like a nava grub when something tried to change that. He had cleverly hidden the entire ensemble beneath his overalls.
Now he stood, remote in hand, awaiting the first arrival. Soon enough, he found a Brother flying towards him. With a click of a button, Milt was rendered immovable. The Gaoian slammed into the hardened shield, collapsing to the ground shortly after. He stood up, bewildered.
Milt tried to console the Brother, but quickly found he couldn’t speak; The forcefield had locked his jaw in place. Even more concerning was his complete inability to breathe. He was barely able to move his chest against the vacuum pressure of the fur-tight field. But, even if that had been possible, he had neglected to put a hole in the field near his snout.
His design was flawed. The switch he had used in testing featured an edge filter, but the ruggedized device he now held did not; The field’s five second duration was being constantly refreshed. His paw was now locked to the control device by that very field it commanded. Cursing his poor design choices, he tried to think of a way out of this mess, but only one thought came to his mind; This is a very stupid way to die.
It took only seconds for the deflected Brother to notice the problem. After a few more seconds of probings and proddings, he ripped the control device from Milt’s paw. Five seconds later, the field collapsed, followed shortly thereafter by Milt. The operative caught him and eased him to the ground.
Several gasping breaths later, he was helped back upright. By this point, the other Brothers had abandoned their preparations and moved in see if their help was needed. They stared at him with looks of concern and curiosity. After a moment, one of them stepped forward. “Interesting toy you have there, Brother. Am I correct in assuming that you have other surprises in store for us as well?”
Milt stood awestruck. Each and every Gaoian in this room was by far his better. Yet each of them stared at him with a respect that he remained unconvinced that he deserved.
A heavy paw fell onto his shoulder. He turned his head to see Ronovin standing behind him, subtly grinning. “Well go on, Brother. I know you have something else to play with.”
Milt whimpered. “I do…” He glanced nervously at the Officers. It was difficult to avoid feeling intimidated by the presence of four of Whitecrest’s most capable operatives. “But I still don’t think I can win.”
Ronovin chittered. “In that last challenge you spent so much effort failing to protect yourself from your own allies that you failed to evade the sniper. I’m not convinced that ‘winning’ is a feasible goal for you right now. Besides, this ain’t about winning. All you need to do put up a good fight.”
Shaking his mind free, Milt walked over to a wall and picked up his pugil stick. The prototype field device that had just nearly killed him had simply been a little proof of concept, just a toy. But this stick, this was where he had directed most of last night’s efforts. He hesitantly gave it a few swings. He looked towards the trainees, then back to Ronovin. Now that he was here, staring at those who would face him, he faltered. “I don’t think I can do this, Ronovin. This thing is dangerous. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”
Ronovin growled at him. “Well, how bad is it?”
“I hit myself with it a few times, it wasn’t pleasant.”
The trainees exchanged glances with each other. They were not afraid, not even slightly. Instead they were… intrigued. Milt stood puzzled. How could they be so calm when facing an unknown threat?
Ronovin chittered as he ruffled Milt’s crest. “Milt, if you hit yourself with this yesterday, and can still stand today, there ain’t nothing to worry about.” He turned to address the trainees. “Why don’t we make this interesting. Me and Milt here, against the four of you. Takedowns and pins. Fall in.” He turned back to Milt. “You had best ready yourself, cub.”
Milt took a deep breath. He pulled his staff into a readied position, nervously placing his paw over the trigger. One Brother leaped at him, attempting to brush the stick aside as he flew. With a click of a button, the cleverly hidden electrodes sprang to life. The Brother yelped in surprise as his muscles spasmed. Sure, he still collided with Milt, but with his graceful control halted, the flopping Gaoian was easily deflected.
All eyes, save Ronovin’s, turned to the twitching Brother. Had he set the voltage too high? This shock was supposed to be just enough to destabilize and disrupt coordination, not enough to keep a Gaoian out for an extended period of time. Maybe some Gaoians were more susceptible to shock than others?
Unfortunately, Milt had allowed this train of thought to distract him, and he soon found himself slammed to the padded ground. The offending Brother helped Milt back to his feet and circled out to rejoin the pack, calling back as he departed. “It’s not very sporting, Brother, if you do not defend yourself.” Slightly embarrassed, Milt attempted to clear his mind and ready himself against the next attacker.
Ronovin had later described his intentions in this seemingly-unfair bout. He had no idea what Milt’s toy was, or what it did, but that was irrelevant. His operatives had to be prepared for anything. A reasonably skilled combatant with an unfamiliar weapon was Keeda-damned close to the perfect opponent for this form of training. Ronovin, himself, only had one goal during the fight. He kept the trainees distracted and fatigued, leaving Milt’s staff free to do the talking.
Slowly, but surely, Milt began to adapt to the awkward shape of his weapon. Much like in unarmed combat, the flow of the attack, the follow through, the recovery, all of it must be blended into one smooth motion to maintain proper balance. A slight nudge, or a subtle flick of the wrist was all that was needed to reposition the device, the phenomenal speed and reach of the weapon easily closed the skill gap between him and the special operations trainees. There was nothing quite as thoroughly disruptive to paw-to-paw combatives than never letting the opponent close. As the fight began in earnest, Milt started to grow more bold with his attacks, swinging his weapon faster and in larger arcs. By Fyu’s whiskers, this weapon did a lot more than talk; This thing sung.
Brother after Brother fell to its melody, each swing fluidly flowing into the next. With Ronovin at his back, his attackers were restricted to a relatively small set of approach vectors. They were incredibly fast and agile, but Milt was no naxas himself. As the staff only required a gentle tap to do its job, he had designed it to be incredibly lightweight, thus allowing him to easily flow from position to position, easily covering the limited range of attack paths.
Eventually, the Officers began to score victories of their own, using darting motions and feints to coax Milt into spinning his staff to the wrong position. Yet, more often than not, Milt successfully deflected his assailants. By the end of the encounter, each of the combatants had plenty of opportunities to feel the bite of his weapon. Even Ronovin had taken a blow or two, much to his annoyance; Milt had never claimed to be skilled at avoiding friendly fire.
Still, as the fights dragged on, Milt almost began to look forward to the few moments on the mat that followed his failures. His Brothers’ endurance seemed endless, each of them only taking seconds to recover and recede into the pack. On the other paw, Milt’s movement was slowing, and he was barely able to fill his lungs fast enough to keep going. He almost considered cranking up the voltage a bit to give himself longer reprieves. Almost. He could not bring himself to do that to his Brothers.
Milt had just knocked one of the trainees to the floor with a particularly painful jolt to the neck when he suddenly found the staff ripped from his paws. A fraction of a second later, one of the heads of the staff was slammed into his chest. The assailant ran his paw across the grip, trying to locate the activation trigger. Unfortunately, he found the wrong one. An enormous burst of electrical potential flowed into Milt. This was not the nice, gentle jolt that he had been liberally distributing through the occupants of this room, no this was the formidable charge designed to disable multiple simultaneous opponents, a shock that made even Chuck’s device seem like a gentle massage.
Milt decided to take this opportunity to black out.
Ronovin
Ronovin was displeased. Milt was supposed to have the unfair advantage in this exercise. “That’s not very sporting, Garot.” Ronovin said as he grabbed the stick’s hilt and slammed its other head into the offending trainee. The stricken Gaoian fell to the floor with a howl of pain, his spasms clamping his paw tightly to the triggering device. Good. He deserved that. Unfortunately, with Garot no longer supporting his weight, Milt fell down onto the first head of the staff, suffering yet again from the staff’s fury.
Ronovin responded quickly, throwing his hindquarters forwards to kick Milt free of the staff. Unfortunately, one of his other trainees had come to the same conclusion… and was faster. With Milt no longer present to kick off of and reverse his momentum, Ronovin overshot, landing his back on the head of the staff. A surge of electrical power flowed into him. Fyu’s balls! Even with a Brother on the other side splitting the charge, that was one hell of a shock! Milt’s rather extreme reaction had quickly become rather understandable. Ronovin felt the stick shift under him; Another one of the Officers must be attempting to dislodge them.
An eternity later, he felt the stick shift again. An even more agonizing jolt hit him just briefly before the device was finally silenced.
Far more time passed than he felt was reasonable before he was able to move again. Between spawns, he glanced around the room. One Brother stood over Milt, attempting to rouse him. He had a short fiberglass pole resting against his shoulder. Ah, a non-conductive object. Smart.
Another Brother struggled next to him; Presumably he had attempted to dislodge the fallen Gaoians in the same way Ronovin had, himself falling in the process. Milt and Garot lay nearby. They were not conscious.
The sole remaining functional Brother finally noticed his instructor. “Ronovin, aid is on its way.”
Ronovin struggled to his hindpaws. He had, somewhat annoyingly, become rather well practiced at maneuvering while recovering from these type of shocks, and was thus able to counteract most of his limbs’ repeated attempts to throw him back to the floor. “Very good, Brother.” Ronovin picked up Milt’s stick. He walked over to Garot and prodded him a few times. The Gaoian provided no response.
Setting the stick aside, he turned his attention to Milt. There was faint scarring where the device had made contact.
The absent Brother returned, trailed by Terf, Whitecrest’s local Openpaw liaison. Terf eyes scanned the room before his gaze settled on Ronovin. He flattened his ears in resignation. “I should have known this would be your doing.” A sly grin appeared. “You really need to learn how to stop breaking people. What’s the situation this time?”
“Electric shock.” Ronovin called out. “You’ll have to ask someone else what happened. I wasn’t there for the whole thing.”
Terf moved from Gaoian to Gaoian, taking vitals and inspecting the injuries. He returned to Ronovin. “You are a rather lucky Gaoian. No one here should suffer any lasting effects. Though some came rather close.” He gestured towards Milt.
Ronovin pant-grinned. “I’d imagine that is by design.”
Terf tensed up, slack-jawed. “This was intentional?” He glanced around the room before sighing. “It’s that Keeda-damned human’s fault, isn’t it?”
Ronovin grinned as he recovered Milt’s staff. ”Nope!” Carefully pressing the other button, he tapped Terf on the shoulder. Terf yelped in shock as he leapt into the air, falling awkwardly to the ground. Ronovin chittered as he helped the rather disgruntled Openpaw to his feet.
“That’s the little cub’s setting. We used the real one.”
Terf flicked an ear. “Oh? I think I’ll need to see that in action to confirm my diagnosis.” He suddenly flattened his ears in horror as Ronovin began to lift the staff. “No! That’s not what I meant!” He scurried to the far side of the room.
Ronovin chittered as he lowered the staff. He beckoned the Openpaw over. “Here, give it a swing, it’s only fair.” He handed the staff to Terf, showing him how to use it.
Terf performed a few practice swings before turning to face Ronovin. After a rather elaborate windup, he slammed the staff into Ronovin’s balls with an underhanded swing. Ronovin didn’t even feel the electric shock; He was far too distracted by the kinetics of the impact. Ronovin clutched himself, falling to the floor. “Fyu’s balls! You ever heard of proportional response?”
Terf shrugged with a mischievous flick of an ear.
“I thought you Openpaw cubs had some sort of ‘do no harm’ policy.” Ronovin winced as he worked his way back to his hindpaws.
Terf twisted an ear dismissively. “An Openpaw unwilling to nip back wouldn’t last long in this place.”
Ronovin chittered softly. “Before you leave, I do have one more injury for you to look at.”
Terf stared inquisitively at Ronovin briefly before shaking his head. “Your balls are fine, Ronovin. Though, if you want, I care take them back to the lab for a more thorough inspection.”
Ronovin perked an ear uncertainly. “Is… that a common procedure?”
“No, but for you I’m willing to improvise.” The Openpaw said with another playful flick of an ear.
Ronovin shook his head. “You should have been a Whitecrest.”
Terf chittered. “My nose is close enough to Whitecrest as it is. Besides, who else would be willing to clean up after your ‘training’?”
Terf’s head snapped towards Milt as the unfortunate Gaoian began to stir. He helped Milt to his feet, offering a shoulder to lean on. Only Garot still remained unconscious. “I do not foresee any problems, but I will remain to help if you wish.”
“No, I think we have it under control. Thank you, Terf.” Ronovin nodded respectfully to the departing Gaoian.
Soon after the medic departed, Milt unsteadily approached Ronovin. “So. It’s no less unpleasant the second time.”
Ronovin grunted. “Why did you test it on yourself anyways? That shouldn’t be your responsibility.”
“It hardly seems fair to give what I am unwilling to take. You are my Brothers.”
Ronovin flattened his ears. “That’s honorable, Milt. But doing things like that will get you killed. Do you test pulse pistols on yourself too?”
“…Yes? At training power, of course.”
Ronovin shook his head. “Milt, if you need help with this sort of thing, call me. My Brothers here are more than willing to help.” A quick glance around the room called that remark into question, but a second, slightly more hostile look corrected that issue. “So, that just leaves one question… Can you get me four more of these?” He waved a paw towards the staff.
Milt tilted his head. “I don’t see why not.”
Ronovin pant-grinned. It was always fun to see the tortured look of his cubs, for each time his cubs conquered another obstacle, a stronger Brother stood before him. Speaking of, one of his trainees had felt the need to use overwhelming force against a less-capable Brother. This required correction.
Ronovin kicked at Garot. “Wake up, pup.” He pulled the Gaoian to his feet, shaking him awake. “You’ve napped long enough.”
Garot slowly returned to his senses. “Ronovin… I-”
“Silence, pup. You are lucky that the shock would render you unconscious, or I may have considered leaving it tied to you overnight. Using an unfamiliar weapon against another Brother? You are lucky that someone was willing to risk themselves to save you. Now, how about we do Milt a little favor.”
Ronovin turned to Milt. “May I have the belt you used earlier?”
Milt gasped. “It’s obviously not safe! I need to do more testing.”
Ronovin flattened his ears. “It turns off unless you press the button, doesn’t it? That’s safe enough.”
Milt whimpered slightly, but complied. He took off the belt and handed it to Garot. Nervously, Garot donned it.
Ronovin held down the activation button. “You are dismissed, Milt. You are not going to want to be here for this. Oh, and would you mind calling Terf? I think I actually may require his services again.”
Milt nodded nervously and quickly departed.
With a grunt Ronovin turned back to Garot. “Every tool should be tested. He’s got the right idea there, don’t you think? Thank you for volunteering.” He peered into his terrified Brother’s eyes. “Let’s see just how long you can remain conscious.”
1y9m1w3d BV
Lamphur shipyards core facility, Corti Directorate world Tangent
Vrrsskl’skdt’klk
As soon as she heard the sapient walking through the door, she knew that he would be trouble. He hurled the door aside as he stomped towards her desk. Vrrsskl’skdt’klk did not consider herself to be a particularly skittish Vzk’tk, but there was just something about his poise, his gait, his mere presence that led her to wish that she was somewhere, anywhere else right now.
He callously disregarded the queue as he marched right past all the other sapients calmly waiting in the lobby, and approached her desk. Vrrsskl’skdt’klk did her best to appear calm and professional in spite of the of the boisterous being approaching her.
He spoke with a domineering, authoritative voice. “Greetings, gentlebeing, I wish to purchase a cloaking device for my ship.”
Vrrsskl’skdt’klk couldn’t help but stare disbelievingly at the small sapient. He had come to the office of the chief director for a simple purchase order? Well, not simple. Vrrsskl’skdt’klk didn’t understand the entirety of the production processes that her employer used, but everyone knew that the more advanced components were highly restricted. Still, she was nothing if not a faithful employee. The company had treated her well, and she prided herself on earning her position through careful diligence. “Very well. Our more advanced products, such as cloaking devices, often have export restrictions. Do you have identification?”
He handed her a datapad. Apparently he was here as authorized representative of the entity Bysteel Craftworks, a company headquartered on tradestation 12E-647, the Crimson Hamlet. This entity wasn’t on the list, or, for that matter, the other list. “I’m sorry sir but your company does not have proper authorization, I cannot sell you what you seek.”
“How do I receive authorization?”
Now that was a long and complicated process involving bribes, appeals, nepotism, and, often, intimidation. “Very few individuals outside the Directorate have authorization. Without a sponsor, you will find that rather impossible.”
The being in front of her ran a few digits through his mane. “Call Zilroy, I’m sure he’ll put in a good word for me.”
Vrrsskl’skdt’klk pulled her head back. “I do not know a sapient of that name.”
“I do.” Merin, called out from behind her. “Human, I’m going to have to ask that you depart from my facility.”
The… human took a few steps back. “Well, he’s really more of an adversary than an acquaintance.”
Merin took a few steps closer. “That is a much more reasonable assertion. Regardless, we can not help you. Even if you had the means to purchase one of our core technologies, Lamphur Shipyards will not sell that technology to anyone outside the direct control of the Directorate.” A pair of Allebenellins approached the human from behind, each grabbing a shoulder. “Perhaps at a later time we will be able to do business mister…”
The human peered over his shoulder, glancing at the two armored sapients. “Byse.”
“Mister Byse. But if we do, it will be at our discretion, not yours.”
Byse studied the Allebenellins behind him. With seemingly little exertion, he slipped from the grasp of the two guards. They called out in shock as they stomped forwards to re-secure their target.
Merin waved them down. “I’m sure he’ll leave peaceably.” He turned to Byse. “I’ll contact you if there is anything further to discuss. But as for now, please feel free to depart.”
Byse glared at him, then shifted his gaze towards at the two Allebenellins and Vrrsskl’skdt’klk. “…Alright. Perhaps we will discover mutually beneficial opportunities at some later point.” He turned and left. The two Allebenellins followed him to the door.
Vrrsskl’skdt’klk looked over to Merin. “Who is Zilroy?”
Merin turned to her. “I have no idea. Likely the Corti that imported him from Earth. Regardless, I saved you a substantial amount of time by aborting his pitch. You may recommence your duties, Vrrsskl’skdt’klk.”
Vrrsskl’skdt’klk bowed her head and called the next sapient in line.
1y9m1w BV
Zilroy’s ship, docked at tradestation Desolate Oasis
Zilroy
The probe completed its scan and sent its report; No recent evidence of human habitation. A shame, really, that Deathworlder seemed to have potential. Oh well. What value could be found in a being that could not even handle a few meager Hunters?
Regardless, determining the fate of the human could yield useful intelligence. Now he simply needed to decide on an approach. The first step was, obviously, an assessment of threat. With this particular endeavor, no threat was greater than that of the human himself. Luckily, humans’ metabolisms made them rather easy to track by their exhaled waste products. His probes had been designed to track far more subtle trails. If they indicated no living humans the past few days, there probably had not been any.
Deciding that the threat level was sufficiently low, Zilroy prepared his basic security equipment. As this had now changed from a recruitment mission to an intelligence gathering one, it would be inappropriate to walk the halls of this station wielding heavy weaponry.
Zilroy studied his datapad. The last known location of the tracking beacon was a small vendor in the mercantile wing of the facility. He slowly wandered towards his destination, walking carefully to avoid attracting unnecessary attention. He entered the shop, drawing the attention of the Gaoian behind the counter.
“How can I help you, Corti?”
Zilroy took a moment to study the beast. Like all Gaoians he had studied in the past, this one looked rough and ready to fight. Disappointingly, there was little else he could deduce from his initial observations; This Gaoian seemed completely unremarkable. Limited insight forces default strategy. “I seek a sophont that passed through this station several weeks ago.”
“That so? I get a lot of people through here, you’ll have to be a bit more specific.”
“You’d remember this being.”
The Gaoian stared at him with a predatory gaze. “My memory is not what it used to be.” He sat back with a thoughtful tilt of his head. “But, I think a few credits could help clear things up.”
Ah, so this Gaoian was a degenerate of sorts. His outward expressions were likely under careful guard. Zilroy carefully inspected the Gaoian once more before deciding to take the obvious path before him. He sat a small stack of credit-cards on the counter. This expenditure was of little concern; He would recover his funds later, in one way or another.
The Gaoian inspected the cards before pocketing them. He them pulled two items out from behind the counter, the datapad, and a small painted steel canister. The Gaoian rested one paw on the canister. “I may have seen a strange being walk through here a while ago.”
Zilroy carefully avoided staring at the datapad as he activated a remote scanning unit. Everything critical to his investigation would be his in a matter of minutes. But there was still time left to push for a little bit more information. The little stack of credits he spent should purchase more information than the Gaoian had released thus far. It seemed to have at least some semblance of primitive intelligence and should be willing to offer more, lest it lose access to future similar transactions. Zilroy pointed to the datapad. “Where did you get that?”
“A bumbling beast of a sapient carelessly left it lying in his pocket. I decided to store it for safekeeping.”
“How noble of you.” Zilroy deadpanned. So the device wasn’t necessarily salvaged, the human may still yet live.
“Not really. He’s been buying my lunch.” The Gaoian pant-grinned.
Zilroy checked his pouches for missing items, much to the amusement of his host. “Where can I find this being?”
“Unfortunately, I seem to have misplaced that memory.” He looked expectantly at Zilroy.
Zilroy stared back for a few seconds, before setting a few more credit-cards onto the counter.
The Gaoian slowly put his paw on the stack and pulled them back behind the counter. “I have not seen him since just after he left my shop.”
…Figures. “When exactly did this transpire?”
“Oh…” He counted on his paws. “About four weeks ago.”
“Around the time of the Hunter attack?”
The Gaoian raised an ear. “Now that you mention it, yeah. The day before that.”
“How did you manage to survive that?”
“High quality locks.”
Zilroy glanced at the shop’s door. Sometime during the conversation, it had been remotely barred shut. He drew his pulse pistol as carefully as he could and turned back to the Gaoian. It had drawn one of his own.
“There is nothing to worry about, Corti. I simply do not enjoy being interrupted during negotiations.”
The two of them stood with pistols pointed at each other. After several seconds, Zilroy slowly lowered his pistol. The Gaoian likewise lowered his, setting it on the counter and returning his paw to the steel cylinder. He chittered softly. “Will there be anything else? Perhaps you are interested in the purchase of a used datapad?” He pointed towards the stolen device.
Zilroy shook his head. “No, I have no further need of your services.”
“Pleasure doing business with you.” The Gaoian called out as he remotely unlocked the exit.
Zilroy left the shop and walking back towards his ship. He began uploading the results of the scanned datapad to the ship’s server for processing, a process that should only take a few minutes.
He arrived back at the ship and quickly scanned his probe’s video footage before recalling it. Nothing had triggered the automated detection algorithms and nothing significant seemed out of place.
Just as he entered the ship, the ship began sending reports from the scanned device. The datapad had traveled from this station, to Gao and back in the weeks after the Hunter attack. Zilroy cursed his imprecise questioning as he reviewed his prior conversation, quickly discovering that the Gaoian had not lied, even through omission.
As he worked his way towards the bridge, more details about his cloned copy of the datapad fed into his consciousness through his communication implants, the most disturbing of which was evidence of tampering in the datapad’s hardware. A superfluous communications module had been added that frequently communicated with a server known to belong to Gaoian intelligence.
Zilroy sighed. Why must every being insist on making his life difficult?
So, how to contain this? First step, lock down and secure communications. Once he was sure that no information had spread past the Gaoian, it would be easy enough to disguise his activities. It may even be possible to avoid the station’s destruction. Hmm, what assets were nearby? Two gunships and a heavy destroyer were only a couple days away; Bring them within a parsec, just in case.
His planning was interrupted by a message broadcast over the ship’s intercom. “Hello, Zilroy.”