Aratas, Celzi Heavy Cruiser
“This did not turn out as we had planned,” Hrbrd had prefaced during his meeting with the Fleet Master. Cizziz had called him to his office once the incident had come to its end, and had thus far exercised extreme restraint in refraining from launching himself at the Corti defector with the intention of tearing him to shreds. It was, after all, Cizziz’s vessel, and nobody would criticise an officer of his standing for killing a Corti of all things.
But instead of that, he sat across from the ex-Councillor, absolutely furious and contemplating the conversation that was to come. The Corti had agreed to cooperate, but not unreservedly, and thus far he was walking a thin line that would see him thrown out of an airlock if he dared to cross it. Cizziz tapped his desk slowly and ominously with a single taloned finger, letting the Corti observe that simple motion until his point was made.
“I believe that what you meant to say just then,” Cizziz observed icily, “was that it did not turn out as you had planned, since I distinctly recall my most recent interactions with you involving a plan to withdraw my men so that En-Jay could deal with the problem herself.”
“Unfortunately the situation quickly escalated following that conversation,” Hrbrd replied, not even having the decency to pretend to be ashamed of himself. “Action had to be taken immediately.”
“So immediate that it seems you felt the need to break into my ship’s systems rather than go through me?” Cizziz snapped in return. That was the single detail that infuriated him above all others; he may be down a human and a life pod, but the process of achieving that unfortunate outcome had involved the Corti bypassing his authority and acting upon that insane scheme. That was an insult to his position as Fleet Master, and it was one over which Cizziz would have gladly executed the Corti if it hadn’t been for the interesting information he could yield, along with the fact that they’d accidentally discovered a new way, albeit unconventional way of combating humans.
“You should be glad that I am not the sort of man to punish another for your actions, Councillor,” Cizziz continued. “How long, exactly, did you imagine that a human could survive in less than one-third atmo? The length of time that one lasted would have seen everything else long dead.”
“And that is troubling,” said Hrbrd, “precisely because it should have seen him dead as well. The human is as lucky as he is resilient.”
“You didn’t believe he’d survive?” Cizziz asked, completely incredulous. He had known that Corti were cruel and practical, but it was another thing to be confronted by it.
“I had not intended for his stay in those conditions to stretch quite so long,” Hrbrd replied. “Had you not ejected me from your systems…”
“My technicians are not in the habit of allowing unknown connections free reign, Hrbrd,” Cizziz declared. “They are not to blame for your mistakes!”
“I did not mean to suggest that they were,” Hrbrd conceded. “Merely that I had not intended anybody to die. I certainly did not expect our mutual friend to display some sort of passive survival mechanism.”
“My doctors report incredibly high levels of Cruezzir in his blood stream,” Cizziz said. “Little wonder that he survived when his drug-saturated body slipped into some form of cellular suspension. Where did he get so much Cruezzir anyway? He certainly didn’t bring it aboard.”
“In a way he did,” Hrbrd revealed. “His body manufactures it. I know, when I first learned of it I was as surprised as you.”
Cizziz pondered this startling revelation, trying to imagine the implications and failing miserably. “Do all humans…”
“No,” Hrbrd answered. “That at least is good news. Humans are dangerous enough without them all being like him. One is useful, more would be… unfortunate.”
“And yet you couldn’t have known that he would even survive your plan,” Cizziz mused, returning to the issue at hand. “You took quite the risk.”
The Corti shrugged. “What is life without risk?”
“Peaceful,” Cizziz coldly suggested. “But I take your meaning. If not for the risk that they took I would be down five vessels instead of only one.”
The one that had been lost had been the smallest of the vessels in the fleet, unable to push back against the threat before it had reached their reactor and pushed it to overload along all conduits. That wasn’t a tactic that Cizziz had ever before observed, nor one he could imagined up himself, but a conversation with his engineers told him that either the reactor interfaces had been hacked or the hostile robot had had all the correct access codes, which was more than troubling if it was true.
“Perhaps then you might see your way to finding our misplaced human?” Hrbrd asked, his temerity remarkable even for a Corti, and their lack of emotions tended to lead them as a matter of course into boldness as well as shamelessness.
“That was already amongst my intentions,” Cizziz replied. “It will need to wait for the coming encounter to be resolved.”
That at least seemed to surprise the Corti. “I had not been informed of such a thing?”
Cizziz glared his reproach at him. “Believe it or not, but I don’t usually find that apprising enemy defectors of all my plans is a tactic that pays off! I discussed this matter with the humans, and the recent attack was merely an unfortunate, and costly, diversion from it.”
“May I know the details of this encounter?” Hrbrd asked, and Cizziz noticed that he now held an unusual air of caution, and that was a touch suspicious.
“A vessel of unknown configuration, but it looks like it might be of Corti origin,” Cizziz told him, watching the defector carefully for any reaction.
He got it; Hrbrd immediately assumed an impassive expression, far too quickly to be natural.
“You know something,” Cizziz said. It wasn’t a question, but it held a command. Tell me what you know or I will throw your sorry monochrome hide out of an airlock.
“I may,” Hrbrd agreed. “Are you familiar with the conspiracy theories surrounding ‘The Heirarchy’?”
“Assume that I am not,” Cizziz replied. He couldn’t be expected to know every piece of nonsense in the galaxy, nor did he want to. Even from the name this was already sounding like the sort of thing talked about by people with too much time and too little sense.
“I will be brief, then,” Hrbrd said. “They are real. They operate in secret and have technology years ahead of the rest of us, and they have a vested interest in keeping this war going.”
Cizziz found this unlikely, and it sounded crazy as the defector had said, but in spite of his other problems tbe Corti did not seem to be insane. It called for a measured response. “That is a considerable claim,” he said. “Do you have proof?”
“The proof was in those robots that wreaked havoc on your ships,” Hrbrd replied. “Had you not had humans on board, you would have lost all vessels to the attack, yes? Don’t bother to deny it, because we both know it is true.”
Cizziz considered this, and was forced to concede that it was true; his response to the attack had been to follow the normal tactics for repelling boarders. That had not worked at all, and had sent a lot of good soldiers to their deaths before the humans had intervened. “If this vessel is this Hierarchy of yours, then can you at least tell me what we can expect during our encounter?”
Hrbrd’s expression turned grim. “I believe that you can expect defeat.”
+++++
Adrian was getting really fucking tired of being put through hell. It seemed like forever since he’d managed to catch a goddamned break and if he was honest with himself it was getting somewhat depressing. There were only so many times you could kick a man when he was down before he wouldn’t get back up again, and he was beginning to wonder how many more he had left in him.
Not many. Not many at all.
He had awoken just an hour ago with no memory of going to sleep and a head that throbbed like somebody had spent some time bashing it in. His sudden return to the land of the living had plainly scared the shit out of the doctors who’d thought him sedated, although they’d calmed down soon enough after he’d finished explaining that he didn’t want to kill them, only some god damned answers.
He hadn’t much cared for the answers he’d gotten. They’d told him that it seemed as though the fumes of the fire suppressant acted as a sort of psycho-active neurotoxin when introduced to human biology. Adrian recalled the effects being radical and terrifying, and the sensation of being guided by violent emotions that he’d known were not his own but had acted along with anyway.
Memories gave out around the time he’d carved his way through the door and into that fucking robot, going completely fucking berko on it until it was little more than a pile of molten scrap. The feeling of it had been glorious at the time, and from what he was learning of what had followed it seemed like that was the high note to end on; for once he didn’t need to remember everything turning to shit.
Askit had arrived only a short time after the doctors had retreated back to their analysis of whatever samples they’d taken from him, and the Corti hacker hadn’t waited for the offer before taking a seat beside the bed and studying him.
“You look like shit,” he finally said with his usual candour. “I’m not a doctor but I think you should try looking less like that.”
Adrian laughed, although his lungs still ached and even a chuckle caused him pain; laughing was agony, but he did it anyway. “Jesus Christ! Your bedside manner is fucking atrocious, mate!”
The little Corti shrugged. “Yes, well… I did warn you that I wasn’t a doctor. Have they filled you in on all the details?”
“You mean about the suppressant, or about Jen?” Adrian asked with a resigned sigh. “Because it’s yes on both counts.”
Askit grimaced. “I couldn’t have imagined that the suppressant would have that effect on you, Adrian. If I’d known-“
“Then we probably would have fucked up in some other way,” Adrian finished. “It’s not on you, mate. Nobody could have imagined it’d do that.”
“We have a line on where Jen’s gone at least,” Askit said. “The Aratas marked her warp vector as bound for Cimbrean, but I’ve been listening in on Hrbrd’s meeting with Cizziz and it seems like they want to pick a fight with a Heirarchy ship before turning around to pick her up.”
“Listening in?” Adrian asked, raising an eyebrow. As far as he was aware there wasn’t really any surveillance to speak of in the wider galaxy, which made humans look like security-conscious nutcases by comparison. “How’d you manage that trick?”
“Corti developed translators communicate with each other,” Askit replied. “I just modified mine slightly to receive from theirs.”
Adrian stared at him, completely surprised of the inventiveness of the approach. “No shit? They won’t know?”
“I seem to be the only one doing it,” Askit replied. “They won’t even consider the possibility. I used that method to get away with several cases of identity theft prior to my… incarceration. The investigations got nowhere.”
“Well, that’s a better offer than I expected to get,” Adrian mused. “Normally I’d need to do something fucking stupid or drastic – or both – to be able to go after her.”
He thought he might enjoy a future where he managed to avoid doing stupid or drastic things; he was beginning to forget a time when he hadn’t been doing them almost exclusively. When was the last time he’d made a rational decision that had actually got him ahead in the game?
Too long ago, and he was feeling it. It had to stop, and if it didn’t he’d just end up dead for certain with nothing more to show for it. He still sharply recalled his fear of losing Jen, and of his desire to protect and live on with her; those were not feelings that had left with the poison, and given the overall sorry state of him he doubted that it was mere lust. He doubted that he’d have been able to rise to the occasion even if she had been there and was tearing his trousers off.
“What I would like to know,” he said, his gaze unambiguously focusing on Askit, “is whose fucking suggestion is was to suck all of the air out.”
The little Corti had the decency to look guilty, and cleared his throat awkwardly. “To be fair, the plan did work… mostly. And I only reduced atmosphere to thirty percent.”
Closing his eyes, Adrian sighed. There wasn’t enough energy in him for anger or for much of anything for that matter. “It was a fucking awful plan,” he said, “but I don’t need to guess who inspired it. I’m just glad that nobody died.”
“Hrbrd and Cizziz say that you should have died,” Askit said. “One of the techs shut me out of the system when he noticed irregularities in the atmosphere.”
“Her-bird and Big Bird need to learn to mind their own business,” he grumbled. “It’s probably more fun stuff from this crap in my blood. It made my organs bigger, who knows what else it’s fucking done?”
“It let you survive,” Askit informed him. “Even with it you would probably have died after too much longer.”
“Fucking cheery today, aren’t you?” Adrian asked bitterly. “Why don’t you-“
The crude suggestion was interrupted by the arrival of the Corti defector and the Fleet Master, clearly finished with their meeting and wanting to see how their remaining human was doing.
“You look well,” Big Bird lied. “Have they informed you as to what happened?”
“I already figured it out when it was too late to do anything about it,” Adrian replied. “I don’t remember much after that, but Askit and others have been filling me in.”
“I’m afraid your mate has absconded,” Big Bird said. “We will be turning around to pick her up, but we cannot abandon our mission to intercept this unknown vessel. Hrbrd informs me that you have some insight into fighting those who might be aboard.”
Adrian turned his attention to Hrbrd. “The Hierarchy.”
“That is my belief,” Hrbrd replied grimly. “The Fleet Master will not follow my suggestion to give up his chase.”
“Fuck,” Adrian groaned. “I’m tired of getting kicked around. Can’t we just find some Hunters to kill instead?”
Big Bird actually clucked. “Foolish bravery!”
“Not so much,” Hrbrd replied. “This is the human they fear above all others, after all. You may know him better as Adrian Saunders.”
All of the sounds stopped at the mention of the name; Big Bird just stared, and the doctors slowly rose to follow suit. There was nothing but an awed silence, and Adrian wondered exactly what it was that they had heard about him.
“This is a little uncomfortable,” he said, trying to ease the tension, but it didn’t work.
“Why is he aboard my vessel?” Big Bird asked, although his question didn’t seem to be targeted at anyone. The Fleet Master seemed bewildered with a mixture of terror and excitement.
“You pulled him out of space,” Hrbrd reminded him. “So in a sense, the man who scares the most terrible race in the galaxy now owes you a favour.”
“Thanks for weighing in, Her-bird,” Adrian said sarcastically.
The Fleet Master continued to regard Adrian for longer than he felt was strictly necessary, and seemed to come to some important decision.
“Well, Adrian Saunders, let me inform you that this fleet has (three hours) before it makes contact with that unknown vessel,” Big Bird said, sounding strangely official as he did so; that was quite the achievement for a large yellow bird. “I want you to be ready to begin boarding action as we agreed.”
“You’re fucking joking,” Adrian replied. “I’ve just been suffocated most of the way to death after being poisoned, and you want me to get into a fight with the fucking Hierarchy?”
“I do,” Big Bird said as sternly as it was possible for him to be. “If they are as formidable as Hrbrd suggests-“
“They are, and I’m already feeling one foot in the fucking grave,” Adrian said, finding he now had enough energy to be angry. “You want me to fucking jump in with both feet?”
“It’s that or waiting here, Adrian,” Hrbrd added. “Your choice.”
His choice? That was no fucking choice at all. As usual the Hierarchy would crush them without some form of intervention, and if he just sat in hospital they’d end up coming for him or – worse -they’d simply destroy the ship around him.
He groaned as he slipped his legs over the side of the bed and dropped on to his feet with a slight ripple of pain all through his body. “Well then,” he said with false cheer, “let’s go fuck their shit up.”
+++++
Jennifer Delaney. Mid-twenties, and not much of anything really. Not any more at least.
The transit back to Cimbrean hadn’t taken much time, a couple of hours on the outside, but under the effects of the stasis field she felt as though she’d arrived almost as soon as she had left. Still in her fugue she had stumbled from the life pod and had fallen out into a perfect woodland on a perfect world, landing on the soft ground where she could stare up at the unfamiliar stars of an alien sky.
The poison in her mind slowly subsided, and was replaced by cool, awful logic and reason. And guilt, of course. She mustn’t forget the guilt.
Most of the memories had faded with the fugue, but the bad ones still remained. She remembered waking up in the corridor after her unexpected and unexplained breakdown; she remembered knocking Adrian out and then kissing him goodbye. She remembered fleeing for the life pod and leaving him to die.
She could have done without those memories, but that would have required some sort of decent stroke of luck, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had one of those.
“I must be the most unlucky Irish girl in the whole universe,” she’d muttered glumly as she laid in the dirt. “Seriously, what did I do? Piss in a Leprechaun’s pot of gold?”
It took some really amazingly bad luck to accidentally murder the bloke you had a thing for. She’d always kind of thought that Adrian had been a bit of a fuck-up, but he’d had nothing on her.
Eventually hunger drove her to move. She’d had to forage for food – a laughably easy task on a world like this – and managed to come up with a few days of food in a matter of hours, but that had given her more time than she’d wanted to think about things; about the past, about the future, and about Adrian.
She really didn’t want to think about that any more.
“Alright, Jen,” she said as she found herself pacing. “Get a hold of yourself, do you hear? Just get a hold of yourself.”
The mantra was repeated until it stuck, until she could focus on something other than the awful things that seemed to happen around her. It was time to stop thinking about anything except for one thing: how she was going to survive.
“Let’s see,” she’d said as she stripped the life pod for everything it had. The pod itself had power, but not enough to power the FTL or even the kinetics, and it was essentially stuck where it was until it rusted out. “We’ve got a carry bag, a data pad, a few days worth of food… some tools, and an FTL drive.”
The FTL drive had been smaller than she’d imagined, hardly the size she’d expected something of its importance to be. It didn’t hurt to take it with her, she never knew when she might find a working ship with a broken drive.
The data pad immediately proved its value by providing a map of Cimbrean and showing her position, as well as her orientation. It functioned just like a navigation system back on Earth, except without the unhelpful voice directions. From what she could tell there were roughly five thousand of… whatever distance unit it used, between her and the palace site.
If she could just get there, she’d have access to potentially repairable materials and spaceships, and more importantly she’d be in place to start building the first human colony.
“Alright, Jen,” she said to herself. “You can do this!”
She could do it; she had to do it.
It was all she had left.
+++++
Elinee, Hierarchy Strike Cruiser, deep space in the Far Reaches
The Celzi fleet had continued to close on Thirteen’s position, an impossibility made reality by the presence of a human on board their ships, but it had not done so unscathed. They had lost a single ship, although it had only been their smallest, and crews had been subjected to raw terror.
“Send the accumulated data to Central,” Thirteen ordered his mechanised crewmen. “The prototypes may have been destroyed, but there were still important results that must be conveyed.”
The prototypes had been modified after Zero had failed so spectacularly to achieve subtlety, and provided with a simple enhancement that allowed them to only charge the fusion blades they were striking with. It saved on power, and it saved enough to keep the cloaking system on at all times.
Not that that had helped when they’d been coated in foam, or when a psychotic human took one apart with the most savage violence that Thirteen had seen in a very long time.
Thirteen knew that that human was probably on his way here now. He also knew that that human was the same one Zero had optimistically reported as deceased.
Thirteen grinned malevolently; he’d never liked Zero and now he had the information required to make Zero into nothing, and there was absolutely nothing Zero could do about it.
The punishment for such catastrophic failure would be truly beautiful to behold, and would remind the others of the need to work within the shadows only, or at the very least to leave no witnesses.
He clicked over to immersion controls of the ship he commanded, and felt his mind expand to accept the new inputs and mechanisms that controlled the cruiser. Engines, deep space radar, plasma batteries and coilguns.
Missiles and mines.
And finally the control units.
The Elinee was the first of its kind; the most powerful ship in the Hierarchy’s considerable arsenal, and right now it belonged to Thirteen.
He began seeding the mines, readied the missiles, and activated the control units.
Today was going to be a good day.