New Askitoria, the Outer Cluster
Adrian’s second shot ended with the destruction of only a single alien missile, bringing the total remaining down to eight, a number that was still excessively high, although Adrian considered that even one unstopped missile was an excessively high number.
Fortunately it was about this moment that Spot opened fire, care of Trix, and quickly annihilated the rest with a few quick blasts from the coil-guns. The last few got close, though; so damned close that the blast was only averted by Spot’s kinetic field enveloping them under its protection.
“That was some fucking good shooting, even if I do say so myself,” Adrian commented to Trix as Askit got back to work. “I’m like some motherfucking shotgun wizard.”
“How do you imagine that?” Trix asked, her voice hinting at some unshared amusement.
Adrian frowned; he knew when he was the butt of some kind of joke, and he was getting that kind of feeling now. “I just took down three of those missiles with one fucking shot, and I did it with a visor that barely works.”
“You missed with every shot,” she disillusioned him. “I took them out with that robot’s kinetic cannon. You were shooting at the thermal ghosting on what little atmosphere remains.”
“That is… disappointing,” was the phrase he opted for. “I was shooting at air, then?”
“Yes,” Trix replied with a slight laugh, “but on the bright side you hit it both times.”
“Fucking hell,” he swore back, unhappy to discover he held no particular wizardry after all. “I was actually feeling really good about that…”
“I’m not sure how you expected to hit anything with a visor in that condition, but there’s something else to brighten your day,” she replied. “It seems your Corti friend has been successful. The ships are all moving off in separate directions.”
Askit looked up towards him at that point, frowning but without any fear. “It’s done,” he said, “but you’re going to have to pick one to steal. I had to adjust their destination coordinates and as we’re in a debris field I can’t say how much damage may be suffered.”
“But what you’re saying is that we’re going to get our fucking hands on a big fucking Hierarchy ship,” Adrian asked, already feeling excited. “We should definitely take the ship this guy was on.”
Askit nodded. “I agree. Now if you could please get us aboard your invisible starship, we can go and fetch it before it turns into so much wreckage.”
Spot decloaked before Adrian could give the order. It seemed that Trix had been eavesdropping, and had thought that Askit’s idea was worth doing. Had Adrian intended to object, he’d have been overruled, and he began to wonder just who was in charge of Spot in any case.
The ship set down a short distance away, extending its kinetics to slowly draw them in, although their pet robot was left behind, likely on the account of being far too large to fit. Askit responded by staring at the ship with nothing less than complete disapproval, and looked over at Adrian as if for an explanation. “You know, the fact that this thing works is the true miracle of the day.”
“Spot works fine,” he said, frowning back. “She’s just a little… rough around the edges.”
“Is that name some sort of joke about the cloaking system?” Askit asked suspiciously.
Adrian decided against going into the topic of naming starships as though they were dogs because they looked like a spotty Jack Russel’s head under infra-red light; they didn’t have enough time and he didn’t think he had enough patience. “Sure.”
Askit shook his head slowly as he entered the ship. “There’s something wrong with you, I swear.”
“I don’t want to hear that from the last guy on ‘New Askitoria‘! Did you really think I wouldn’t notice that eventually?” Adrian shot back as he followed, realising that the sight of all the barely-in-place cabling would do nothing to assuage the little Corti’s concerns about its space-worthiness.
“Don’t mind the mess,” he said weakly, “I was in a bit of a hurry to get here.”
“What happened to this ship?” Askit asked, and looked around the cockpit as he entered it with further confusion. “And where is the pilot?”
“All around you,” Trix replied, using every speaker in that extremely disconcerting way. “But mainly inside the computer.”
Askit whirled to face him in shock. “You have an A.I.?”
“More like a ghost,” Adrian replied. “Askit, meet Trix, or more formally Trycrur, a Rauwryhr female who died back on Cimbrean. Trix, meet Askit, further information unnecessary.”
“Further information unnecessary,” Askit repeated, clearly uncertain as to how he was to take that. “Why is she a computer now?”
“Hierarchy did it,” Adrian explained in brief. “Come on, we’re wasting time. We’ve got a ship to steal.”
+++++
Record 573-Black-06
+Recovered from C11-Orange-712-Yellow-6+
The light of day showed the cabin greatly changed, its windows smashed or hanging open and the bed without its sheets. The camera was lifted from its position and pointed around haphazardly as it was taken in hand by its latest owner. “I wonder where the naked girl went,” the newcomer mused. “I hope she’s still alive…”
“So you can fuck her?” another male asked, this one huskier of voice, albeit somewhat nasal. “Self-pleasure, Horic. Keep your mind sharp in case of bandits.”
“I didn’t mean that…” Horic replied, sounding less than certain. “She was just pretty, is all. Do you have to do that, Kregg?”
The camera pivoted towards a greying male with his finger in his nose. He withdrew it with a scowl. “Don’t watch, then.”
Horic sighed. “Doesn’t look like there’s anything valuable except the camera.”
“There’s nobody to buy things anyway,” Kregg remarked bitterly, wiping his soiled finger on his overalls. “We should get going, this place doesn’t look safe. Did you see that poor bastard down the road?”
“I think it was the guy in the sex-tape…”
“Yeah, well… that means it was recent,” Kregg reckoned. “So if you don’t like being cooked, let’s get a move on. I want to get as far as we can before dark.”
“Alright, alright,” Horic replied, sounding harried. “I’m going to take this, though.”
Kregg shook his head disdainfully. “I don’t give a shit what you-“
End Recording
+++++
Hierarchy Command Cruiser, vicinity of New Askitoria, the Outer Cluster
The size of the command cruiser was so enormous in comparison to that of Spot, that it had been a simple matter to park it right on the internal flight deck. It wasn’t a carrier, however, so that didn’t leave much room for anything else to land, but Adrian hadn’t cared about much apart from Spot.
The process of subjugating the starship had been brief and extraordinarily well-executed for the trio, although Adrian had elected to have Trix remain behind in case shit went thoroughly sideways and they needed to be extracted.
Shit did not go in any direction for a change; there were no internal defenses, and no awful traps as there had been aboard the Zhadersil or Hodgepodge, proving that even the Hierarchy didn’t think of those sorts of things. They were resisted by absolutely nothing, which would have been a pleasant experience had Adrian not constantly been on edge for the other shoe to drop, and the command cruiser was soon under Askit’s control.
He even managed to assume control of the two other autonomous vessels that had not yet ploughed into significant space debris. They had actually won a battle without losing anything important… except for a fortress of an asteroid base, Keffa’s little ship, and possibly Zripob. All absolutely acceptable in terms of what they’d gained.
“Now this,” Adrian said, kicking back in the captain’s chair as he was accustomed, “is a victory.”
Askit glared at him, apparently finding this as something of an affront. “This is my ship, now, Adrian. My chair.”
“No shit?” Adrian laughed, raising an eyebrow. He stood to allow the little Corti to sit in his place, figuring that when it came down to it it had been Askit’s trap and mostly his hard work that had got them here. “Alright, mate, you can have this one. I’ve got the next.”
“We’ll see,” Askit replied. “Right now I have to run an in-depth scan of everything in case of ’emergency protocols’ lurking in the system.”
That was fair enough, neither of them would want to re-live the experience of nearly plunging into a black hole, and Adrian doubted that Trix would particularly desire even a single such journey. “That’s a good fucking idea,” he said. “How long is it likely to take?”
“How long is a programmatic string?” Askit replied with a shrug.
“I’m going to assume that means you’re not sure,” Adrian decided, figuring that it was probably the Corti equivalent of ‘how long is a piece of string?’, and therefore meant he had no fucking idea whatsoever. “A rough estimate then?”
“At least a day,” Askit conceded. “Probably a few.”
“Good. That gives me time to go plunder the base for extras,” Adrian replied. “Are you going to be alright in here on your own?”
He wasn’t all that keen on leaving the Corti alone for a second time, considering that the last time had culminated in a surprise battle with the Hierarchy, but more because he didn’t want to condemn the little guy to being devoured by a black hole if he could help it.
Askit may have been having similar thoughts, because he took his time before answering. “I should be fine,” he assured, hardly as confident as Adrian would have liked. “I would ask that you have your ship return to me upon dropping you off, however.”
“Caution, good…” Adrian said approvingly. The wealth of information they’d managed to acquire demanded extreme care so that there was no risk of ever losing it. The worth of the command cruiser, itself a valuable prize, paled in significance to what may lay in its databanks.
Askit turned back to focus on his datapad, tapping a few buttons with focused concentration. “I’m submitting a manifest from New Askitoria so that you’ll have some idea what’s worth your time and effort. There should still be plenty of food containers, and various unimplemented components for the defenses.”
“I was going to take the power systems and the computer core,” Adrian replied. “I don’t want that going to waste, and I don’t want information like that just left sitting there.”
“Your ship will also need more ammunition,” Askit reminded him, and it was a good thing he did. Spot hadn’t expended many of its slugs in the battle, but it hadn’t had many to start with.
“Then we’d best get started,” Adrian said, already considering the logistics of his task; first supplies, and then spare parts, then power and finally the computer core. “I do have one suggestion regarding your remaining two ships, though.”
Askit’s only response to that was a distinctly querulous expression, involving an almost imperceptibly raise of his left brow-line, and a tilt of his head.
“Hand them over to the colony on Cimbrean,” said Adrian, holding up a hand to forestall any protest. “It gives them a chance to join in on this little campaign of ours, and they can properly resource a real force to throw at the fucking Hierarchy.”
“You think they’ll be willing to join in?” Askit asked cautiously, although that meant he was not entirely against the idea. “It would risk further response against your homeworld.”
“I reckon they might,” said Adrian. “Depends on what you find, and on whatever the fuck else might happen.”
Askit pondered further, spending a minute lost in thought, enjoying his decision-making process by shifting around in his captain’s chair, finally came to a decision. “I accept, on the provision that they are sufficiently motivated. I’ll be more certain once I’ve trawled the data.”
Adrian nodded. “Good enough.”
+++++
Irbzrk Orbital Factory, Main Station
“So… we’re rich,” Keffa said, once she was capable of any reasonable cognitive thought. Darragh had helped her out of the bank, and had carried her out of there along with all the police weapons he could carry, all on a hover-lifter that he’d also stolen from the institution. There would certainly be some questions asked over a second robbery occurring right under the noses of the local police, but they had been careful to wear disguises, and had prepared a place to switch into costume for the final leg of their escape.
Chir had come up with the idea of dressing as humanoid beasts entirely covered in hair, assuming the appearance of the species widely known on the station as ‘Uman-hay’. The costumes were shoddy, barely holding together under the strain of movement, but they served to do the job and didn’t fall apart until they were safely back aboard the unnamed salvage runner.
“We’re rich,” Darragh told everybody. “The clerk was very helpful in regards to that. Fifteen fecking million credits on a number of chits, and a bank full of people who’ll most likely be looking for new employment come morning.”
“Fortunately we don’t need to care about them,” Doctor Grznk replied, running a medical scanner over both of them. “How do you both feel?”
“Fine,” Darragh said with a shrug. “Keffa might feel a little extra-crispy.”
Keffa glared at him. “You better watch it or you’ll be the next one getting shot with a stun-gun.”
Grznk waved his scanner over Keffa, ignoring her protests that she was fine, and frowned. “Minor damage to nervous system, but knowing your species it’s not something to be worried about.”
“Thank you,” said Keffa, growing more irritable by the second. “Can you get out of my way now?”
Grznk did so with only a slight sneer. He didn’t like her much, that was no secret whatsoever, although he disliked Adrian Saunders that much more. Saunders had apparently, in an ironic twist, abducted the Corti doctor from his own medical room aboard a Dominion warship, and had not released him until he had assisted in the installation of basic augmentations for Jennifer Delaney.
That being his first exposure to humanity, Keffa could hardly fault his lack of tolerance for her species in general, and subsequent exposures had not helped in the slightest.
Darragh passed the credit chits to Chir when he was asked to do so, then found a place to dump the pile of weaponry. It was strange how they had suddenly gone from having nothing to being as rich as kings, but stealing from the most powerful financial institution had that kind of effect.
“What’s the plan now?” Layla asked, looking between them all. Keffa had noticed that the Gaoian female had been more subdued lately, and moved with greater care; although nothing had been announced yet, if she considered the relationship Layla was now maintaining with Chir it seemed certain that she was with child.
“Now we get out of here,” Chir declared, taking up position at the helm. “We’ve taken on supplies-“
“We’ve got supplies now?” Keffa asked, glancing down the corridor towards where the cargo was stored. “When did that happen?”
“Do not interrupt me, Keffa,” Chir scolded her, managing to make her feel something akin to shame in spite of the informality of his leadership aboard their little ship. “It happened while you were busy with your own task. Did you imagine we would be sitting on our hands, simply waiting for you to return?”
“You mean you do things when we’re not here?” Darragh asked, making mockery of her for a change. She found she didn’t much like it. “How did you intend to pay for all the supplies if we had failed?”
Chir gave him a blank stare, and initiated undocking procedures. “The exact same way I’m paying for them now.”
“Oh my god…” Darragh gasped, breaking into a grin. “You really are a fecking pirate after all!”
“Our own reputations – such as they are – have been protected by thoroughly lying about our identities,” Layla explained. “We have, in fact, assumed the identity of the original owner of this vessel.”
“So he’ll soon be discovering that he’s a wanted pirate?” Keffa asked, feeling somewhat sorry for the poor alien who’d not only had his ship stolen but was now about to be framed for serious criminal activity.
“This one resisted our boarders,” Chir replied, and left it at that. That explained the fact that they had it in the first place, as well as the recent and poorly attempted repairs.
Darragh sighed, his amusement gone now that he’d been reminded of the cost of the work they did. That was why Keffa had only been on salvage duty; she had never been able to bring herself to willingly take a life, or at least not directly. “On the bright side he won’t need to worry about prison.”
“That privilege is reserved for us,” Grznk grumped. “The only question now is whether we can outrun justice for long enough that we can all die of ripe old age.”
+++++
Date Point: 3Y 8M 2W 5D AV
Hierarchy Command Cruiser, vicinity of Cimbrean
From the moment he’d stepped from the lander, Powell had commenced his own personal tour of his immediate surroundings, staring at the alien architecture of the Hierarchy dropship with a mixture of wonder, suspicion and fear, the latter most of all when faced with the edge of the kinetically-created air bubble that separated the inside of the ship from the emptiness of space.
The man looked distinctly out of his depth, which Adrian supposed was completely normal for anyone the first time they set foot aboard an alien starship. Maybe he was the weird one for having taken to it so easily, although he sincerely believed that the human being could adapt to anything, given the time and motivation.
Powell had been accompanied on this trip by Cliff and Gorge, the two men who had the most experience watching over Adrian, and right now they looked equally dumbfounded by their current location, but with less of a sense of total unfamiliarity, no doubt thanks to their brief time exploring the sunken Hodgepodge.
“Two of these things?” Powell asked, once he’d finished coming to terms with the scenery. “You’re givin’ us two of these fookin’ things? You said they weren’t all that big, and you’re fookin’ right, ‘cos it’s fookin’ ginormous, is what this is! Where’s the fookin’ thing end?”
Adrian glanced around the flight deck, thinking it not that large compared to what he’d had aboard the Zhadersil, although it was probably about as expansive as a normal naval carrier back on Earth, and he had to remind himself that was actually very big to most people. “It’s supposed to be a deployment ship, so it should fit a small fucking army. That’s an alien army, though, so the pantry is going to be a bit too small for a proper one.”
Powell shook his head. “But why are you giving us two of the fookin’ things? That’s what I really want to know, Saunders.”
“I’ve got a surplus,” Adrian replied, and although that was true it was not entirely honest. The truth itself was several layers thick, including their agreement several days prior, but also a strong desire for some real fucking help against the Hierarchy, and a free pass back to Earth. It also wouldn’t be so bad if Powell felt he owed him one. “Reckoned you might have had a use for the extras.”
“Extras?” Powell muttered. “How many of these fookin’ things have you got?”
“I’m holding onto one,” Adrian admitted, although technically Askit was the one doing so, and he was wisely keeping the Askitorian – a name he would not be dissuaded from – a few light years distant so as to avoid the same fate as the Hodgepodge. “We destroyed a space fortress, a few other ships, and an army of fucking robots in the process.”
Powell turned away and rubbed his brow unhappily. “Jesus fookin’ Christ,” he said, appalled. “I let you loose for one fookin’ week and you go break a chunk of the fookin’ galaxy!”
Adrian shrugged. “I was already doing that…”
Cliff decided, against his better judgement, that he wanted to add his own two cents to the conversation. “Sorry… did you just say you broke a fuckin’ fortress?”
The man almost seemed to be impressed, but he’d spoken when he should have remained respectfully silent and earned a stern look of rebuke from Powell. That shut him up, just as it might have once done to Adrian, back when he still had any kind of a shit to give about chain of command or the military in general.
Powell looked tired, a state that other people seemed to find themselves in frequently when confronted by the things Adrian brought to them, good or bad. “Saunders, you know that my men aren’t even fookin’ close to being equipped to fly these fookin’ things. What the hell am I supposed to do with them? If something comes by, they’ll get seen for certain, and then we’ll be in a world of shit.”
“I’ve got a day or two to show your best and brightest the bare essentials,” Adrian offered. “As for hiding, both of them have beyond cutting-edge cloaking technology, care of the motherfucking Hierarchy. Shitload of cloaking missiles, too.”
“Your invisible fookin’ ships fire invisible fookin’ missiles?” Powell asked slowly, lacking any kind of expression that suggested he found this particular revelation a happy one. “That is not fookin’ good, Saunders!”
Unlike Cliff and Gorge, who seemed to illuminate at overhearing that sort of thing, Powell was intelligent enough to see the problem with finding a new toy that your enemy likely had in far greater numbers. Adrian, for his part, had learned the same lesson by experiencing them from the really dangerous end of the stick, and didn’t wish to repeat the experience unless he absolutely had to.
“I know,” he said, turning and beginning the walk towards the more comfortable offices beyond the flight deck, “but I’m not here to talk about invisible missiles, or even about these starships.”
Powell followed close behind. “You brought two of ’em and you don’t even want to talk about them? What kind of fookin’ shit have you got to send my way this time, Saunders?”
“The last few days my Corti mate has been busy making sure there’s nothing in these computer systems that would endanger the crew,” Adrian replied. “Aside from that, the fucking arsehole who used to own this ship tried to wipe the memory, so now he’s busy trying to put it all back together, and in the process he discovered something really fucking interesting.”
They entered the office, an undecorated little room very obviously intended to serve the purpose. Unlike Celzi vessels which favoured a white and grey colour scheme, the Hierarchy ships maintained a metallic shine in all things, although they had been surfaced with a thin, fully transparent film of protective gel. There was a single viewscreen here that Adrian had prepared earlier, showing a whirling set of data flowing across the screen.
“What the fook is that supposed to be, then?” Powell asked, taking a seat on the ‘I’m in charge here’ side of the table and frowning at the incomprehensible data.
Adrian, for his part, elected to stand so as not to play into that little game. “You got an open mind, Powell?”
Powell’s eyes narrowed on him, showing that he was clearly past the point of being toyed with on this particular excursion. “Spit it out, Saunders.”
“I ask because that’s what I have,” Adrian said with a growing smile. “Powell, please meet the motherfucker who chased me off Cavaras. This is Zero, or what’s left of him.”
“This is an Hierarchy agent?” Powell asked, raising a sceptical eyebrow. “You’ve actually fookin’ captured one?”
“Not exactly,” Adrian admitted. “He’s dead, so all this shit is just his memories.”
Powell stared at him for moment, his mouth hanging slightly open, closing intermittently as though he was about to say something then decided against it. Finally he swallowed and asked the question. “You’ve got access to all of this bloke’s memories?”
“Yeah,” Adrian confirmed with a smile. “I do.”
“Saunders,” Powell said, looking flabbergasted, “this intel is-“
“Completely fucking useless to you, aside from the bits I can get out of it,” Adrian finished. “Or more specifically, the bits my people can get out of it. Turns out analysing an alien mind is hard fucking work unless you know what you’re looking for.”
“You wouldn’t be showing me this fookin’ thing if you didn’t have anything,” Powell replied, quite accurately. It was a relief in some ways to have somebody to talk to who didn’t need absolutely everything to be explained to them, even if he did have a rod up his arse.
Adrian responded by taking out a datapad and sliding it across the table into Powell’s hands. “That is what I’ve got,” he said. “Some names, some places. Enough to get started.”
“And the rest?” Powell asked, looking over the data that had, very helpfully, been transcribed into English. “You’re not going to go get yourself fookin’ killed before you can get it to us, are you?”
“I’m only a little crazy,” Adrian protested, although he knew he’d had a few too many close calls already. “We’ll be spending some time on my own little planet while we do what we can to get the rest of this shit figured out.”
+++++
The Governess, approaching Deathworld C11-Orange-712-Yellow-6, The Ilrayen Band
Jennifer Delaney. Mid-twenties, space-babe adventurer and beginner-mode survivalist, professional explorer and accidental bank robber. Not quite as bald as she had been a few days ago, either, even if her hair was coming back in patches. At least while she was alone there would be nobody to laugh at how stupid she looked.
New Jen had considered shaving it all off again, mostly just to spite Old Jen who still lamented the loss of her hair. But that was the same as acknowledging that the shadow’s opinion mattered to her, which it absolutely did not. The problem with that argument was that Old Jen had been the one to actually make it, but New Jen reasoned that by accepting it as valid she immediately rose above such silliness and it was no longer a problem.
Not that it didn’t still grate at her.
Fortunately for her continued sanity she had her work to focus on. That mostly involved waiting to get some place, but it also required extensive study and organisation. Study of all of the tests she needed to do to make sure that a planet was viable – even Class Ten Deathworlds could be dangerous to humans as well – and organisation to make sure she only visited those matching certain criteria, such as gravity, atmosphere, resources and biological hazards. She had then plotted a schedule that minimised her time in the confines of the Governess.
She had elected to begin her new life of exploration and adventure in the Ilrayen Band, a section of space adjacent to the Far Reaches where the nebula thickened and where Deathworlds were the norm; exactly the sort of place considered completely uninhabitable by the rest of the galaxy. Out in these hazy spaces, where new stars mingled with old, a regular starship would need to degauss and make routine repairs. The Governess was built against such problems, however, and took constant measures to prevent hull ionisation and the litany of related problems.
Today she would be making her initial survey of a Class Eleven world, and one that closely matched Earth in basic terrestrial attributes. The planet – she’d decided to call it Cisco for personal convenience since the planetary reference was too annoying to use any number of times – had two moons, and although neither were as large as that of Earth they were only half the distance from it. She uninventiveley dubbed them ‘Big moon’ and ‘Little moon’, far from perfect but good enough to stick until the planet proved itself one way or another.
“Let’s see what Cisco has for us today,” she announced, flicking on the active sensors and giving the planet a quick sweep for basic mapping.
She hadn’t expected to get pinged back. “Oh shit…”
“What could be on a Deathworld?” Old Jen asked, envisioning scenes of death camps or secret research institutions, the discovery of either of which would mark her for capture or death.
New Jen had the same thoughts, but controlled the fear that went with them. “Could be anything!” she replied, although she couldn’t think of what else it might be.
She used an infuriatingly trembling hand to issue another, more specific scan on the target that had scanned her back. Some kind of ship, half-buried in the terrain, was continuing to sweep her with active sensors. Jen did the same to it, there was, after all, plenty of time before-
Something hit her ship, powerful enough to flicker the lights, loud enough to suggest an explosion, and the ship lighting automatically switched to emergency green, which wasn’t the most reassuring of signs. Absolute terror shot through her, stifled only barely by New Jen’s iron will; she utterly refused to let her fear control her, and forced her attention away from what had happened and towards getting herself the fuck out of there.
The Governess showed a remarkable unwillingness to respond to her promptings to run away, however, and she brought up the damage report to figure out why.
It didn’t take long.
“Engines are damaged,” she reported to herself, finding that keeping up the conversation somehow calmed her. “Or at least they’re not getting the power to the Kinetic drives. We’re running on whatever the artificial gravity system can give us.”
“We can’t fly out on that,” Old Jen determined, accurately if not helpfully. “I do not want to be stranded on another fucking alien planet! We’ll never be found out here!”
“Shut up,” New Jen ordered, and nodded appreciatively as Old Jen went into a quiet sulk; if she was going to be negative she could do it on her own. “What would… what would Adrian do… have done?”
“Crash the ship,” Old Jen mused, breaking her silence. “Probably.”
“He’d probably try and fix the engines,” New Jen decided, opting to ignore the truth in what her counterpart had said. “I probably have something to fix it with…”
But that was Adrian’s area of expertise and she didn’t have enough time to learn. She had about enough time to learn how to crash, though, so the original suggestion looked like it was going to be the one she went with. “Fuck.”
The artificial gravity systems were levelled fully against the velocity of the ship, slowing it slowly but surely so that she could begin to plan an approach vector. Something that would bring her close to the arseholes who’d shot her down, without getting her so close that they’d shoot her down a second time. Odds were good that she was going to need to go and beat the shit out of whoever had fired on her, if only to steal their supplies and equipment, so she didn’t want to enjoy a cross-continental hike in order to do so.
“That’ll work,” she said, finding the correct vector as she began to hit atmosphere. She set the ship to automatic, and pressed herself back into her chair to pray, wide-eyed and terrified, to a God she didn’t really believe in until it was convenient for a miracle to happen. Like right now.
“Oh please, God! Oh please, God!” she chanted as the landmass loomed up to meet her, a snow-covered sub-alpine region that met high mountains to the north and expansive forests and plains to the south. The Governess descended with a shrieking howl, sweeping past a massive, grey slab of a mountain and striking westwards past dusk and into the darkness of night.
The normally imperceptible braking of the Governess was gone for all of this, replaced by the full gravity of the planet below and the shuddering of the starship trying to counteract it. It all ended as the small exploratory ship hit a descending slope of snow and, smashing through several small trees in the process, slowly skid to a halt.
Jen caught her breath, swallowing hard several times and failing several times to stand on wobbling legs before her calm resolve recovered enough to allow it. Then she stumbled over to the airlock, opened it, and looked out across the primitive snow and forest covered world beyond. “Oh, shit.”
+++++
Record 573-Black-07 +Recovered from C11-Orange-712-Yellow-6+
The countryside was a verdant green, or at least it was wherever it hadn’t been burned. Fire had cut through fields and left long paths of black around untouched lands, and the air was filled with a sprinkling of ash.
“At least it’s not as bad as the city,” Horic mused. “Behold, dear viewer, the world beyond civilisation!”
“Again with that camera,” Kregg said irritably. “At least you’re recording with it, though. I thought your hands were going to go bald with all the self-pleasuring you’ve been doing.”
“K-Kregg!” Horic choked in horror, turning the camera towards his older companion. “I’m… this is for posterity!”
Kregg shook his head dismissively. “Nobody is going to want to watch your shitty video. Besides, you should be watching for bandits. I don’t want another situation.”
“We’re not going to get another situation,” Horic replied, mimicking Kregg childishly. “Besides, this thing has a zoom lens… you just adjust this and…”
The camera focused in on a ridge and a glint of metal.
“Huh…”
There was a crack of gunfire, and the camera fell to the ground, pointing at the surprised, motionless face of Horic’s corpse.
“Horic!” Kregg shouted in alarm. “Are you-“
Another crack silenced Kregg.
Then, but for the gentle rustling of the wind, the world remained silent until the battery ran dry.
End Recording
+++++
Date Point: 3Y 8M 2W 5D AV
Nameless Salvage-Runner, Dominion Space
Chir was rich, he was free, and beyond returning Layla back to the female clan on Gao he was completely aimless. He had not wanted her to go, she had been excellent company both in and out of his quarters, but he had been unable to offer her a compelling reason to stay. “Come and join my life of endless crime and running away” was not the most attractive of propositions, and they owed it to their child to ensure he or she was raised in the relative safety of the homeworld.
The events on Exoss, reaching their ears as they made approach to the star system, had changed things drastically for the worse, and Chir thought it prudent not to start advertising the presence of two humans aboard the worthless piece of crap that shunted them around. That meant handing Layla over into the care of a Gaoian patrol, while the humans hid in the safety of their quarters, and Chir would be carrying a stun-bolt powered for non-human incapacitation; they were his species, but they were not necessarily his friends.
Originally, Chir had simply intended to say his goodbyes with Layla – hoping to see each other in better days – and leave her with the patrol cruiser. From there he would depart, making his way to a brighter future where Adrian Saunders or his friends would not be able to precipitate the destruction of all his hard work.
That had been his intent, but Glorel, the Ship Master of the Vaulting Star Patrol Cruiser, had decided otherwise and had ‘invited’ Chir aboard for a brief chat about life, piracy, and how he should just piss off forever and die in a hole. The most surprising thing of all of that was that in spite of being of a different clan, Glorel knew exactly who Chir was and was apparently not his biggest fan.
He had also decided to make his loathing exceedingly clear, and had strategically opted to do so in front of Layla, so as to cause maximum humiliation. Given the massive size of him compared to Chir and the fact that he was flanked by two of his trusted soldiers, it was clear that Glorel expected to say his piece and have Chir stand there and take it. That was how it worked on Gao when one male clearly outmatched another, or at least it did amongst the most churlish individuals.
“It simply staggers me that you could be the renowned Commander Chir,” Glorel sneered, confident that his position put him as far above Chir in social status as he was in physical terms. “The way the stories filter down, you’re supposed to be (three meters) tall, and capable of crushing Hunters with a single strike.”
He smiled coldly. “Or so I’ve heard.”
“Go fuck yourself, Glorel,” Chir replied flatly, taking a cue from Adrian Saunders without being entirely sure why. It wasn’t as though the human disaster zone had accomplished much besides pulling the right people into the disasters he caused – his attempts at anything else had universally met with failure – and yet here was Chir, telling a Gaoian superior to go and mate with himself.
Glorel did not seem impressed by the suggestion, and grew immediately angry at what was very obviously a direct, and unforgivable insult. “You are very bold, though. Is that a threat? Shall I show you what happens to males who threaten me, Chir?”
Chir shot the smug bastard in the crotch, which proved a surprise to Chir himself as well as everybody else in the room, particularly Glorel. Chir didn’t waste any time in peeling off a shot at each guard before they managed to get their own weapons up and ready, and soon he was along with Layla in a room full of twitching Gaoian soldiers.
She stared at him wide-eyed, confused and horrified at the sudden escalation from a mean-spirited dressing-down to less-than-lethal gunfire. “What… what are you doing!?”
Chir wasn’t really sure, but whatever it was he was committed now, and it looked like he was making up the plan as he was going along. “I guess… I’m stealing a starship.”
“P-Pirate…!” Glorel gasped from the floor, gripping his crotch in complete agony.
Chir shot him there again for good measure, and after a shriek of agony the oversized fool learned a thing or two about shutting up.
“You’re stealing a Gaoian starship, Chir…” Layla reminded him. “That’s a crime-“
“Only if I’m stealing it from Gao itself,” Chir reminded her. “A battle between males can involve the exchange of property and position.”
“This ship is full of soldiers…” one of the guards gasped, trying to raise his weapon only to lower it as Chir pointed at the male’s crotch. “Over a hundred of them… you won’t be able to seize it.”
Chir shot the guard in the crotch anyway, and did the other just the same to ensure universal compliance. Then he stepped over to the shipwide communications system and sent out his message.
“Attention, Gaoians. I am Chir the Privateer, you may have heard of me. I have just defeated your ship master and his two guards single-handedly, and I have a ship full of humans who’ve been aching for a fight. Anybody who wants to get ‘fucked up’, as the humans say, may proceed to come and enjoy the same kind of experience your Ship Master has received, otherwise you can get off my ship.”
He terminated the communication, and looked over at the increasingly horrified Layla with a shameless grin. “How many do you think will come?”
“A-all of them!” Glorel gasped, very determinedly. “They’ll throw your worthless hide into space!”
Gripping the stun-gun with both hands, Chir pointed it down at Glorel and watched the man shrink away with considerable pleasure. He grinned, the same kind of predatory grin that Adrian used when he was about to do all kinds of destructive things. “Goody.”
Glorel then learned that Chir really was an excellent shot.