Derktha, Agwaren Capital City
Jennifer Delaney
The adrenaline rush of her final push had left Jen exhausted, and she had only managed to scuttle clear of the wreckage of the final robot before it exploded. Then she had collapsed, trying and failing to heave in enough good air through all the smoke and filth to satisfy her body’s requirements. Her vision swam, and she only vaguely realised that it was Groddi dragging her away from the battlefield while other Agwarens stared in amazement.
“I suppose it was pretty impressive,” she mumbled, nearly incoherent, as she looked back at the scene she was being carried away from, one last effort before she let her head loll to the side and gave up all resistance.
When she next became aware, the air was rich and cool, and the room – no, it was a tent – was filled with natural light. She was wrapped in blankets, her face in bandages, and every wound was covered in some foul-smelling ointment that took the pain away.
Her whole body seemed stiff but thankfully not sore, especially the arm that had not stopped swinging Groddi’s oversized blade.
At the thought of Groddi, she stared around, discovering only one eye in good use, only to eventually find him resting in her blindspot. His slumbered stirred as she choked out barks of glad laughter, and he was immediately by her side.
“I knew they would be wrong,” he whispered to her, his fur-covered face close to hers. “The chirurgeons believed you would not awaken for days, and not be healed for (weeks), and yet here you are, conscious after mere hours. How do you feel?”
Jen groaned, a sound with meaning that carried in any language, and Groddi laughed kindly. “It is no doubt unpleasant to have such injuries, but let me offer you this… after what I saw you do, I believe you are the Chosen One, and so do all others.”
“Great,” Jen muttered bitterly. “I’m happy my fighting for my life could be part of your religious experience.”
“There is one more thing…” Groddi continued, moving along at the sound of her disgruntled tone. “The High Lord is dead, and he had no heirs. Many would ask you to lead us, but I do not believe it is in their interest to be ruled by somebody who is not an Agwaren, even if it is you.”
Jen looked at him, raising the eyebrow that still worked. “You’re about to suggest I use my authority as Chosen One to install you as the new ruler, aren’t you?”
“I would ask that you recommend me to the position, Chosen One,” he replied, confirming her suspicions completely. “In return I will offer you what aid I can in your fight against the Dark One. He must answer for his crimes.”
Jen sighed; she knew that Groddi was using her for his own purposes, but she didn’t know the political situation to pass any comment on it. Nor did she know their language enough to ask someone to explain it, or even know who could be trusted to tell her plainly. In the end it just seemed easier to go with it and clean up any ensuing mess afterwards. “Fine… you can be ‘High Lord’ or ‘King’ or ‘Guy in Charge’, or whatever you want to call yourself.”
She gave him a smile and a nod to affirm his request, and he withdrew happily. “In that case I shall leave you to your rest. Servants will be posted to provide you with anything you may need.”
Jen allowed herself to rest back into her bedding as he left, staring one-eyed at the canvass above her. “I don’t suppose you could provide me with a way off this planet?”
She allowed a moment of silence to pass before she continued. “…No? Thought as much.”
Well, if nothing else, she could one-up Adrian’s record of how injured she’d gotten while still managing to pull a victory, and in spite of everything he’d been through he’d never managed to lose an eye.
She waited for Old Jen to say something casually sarcastic, perhaps a reminder that Adrian was dead and that she was to blame, or that her parents would be horrified to discover their beautiful daughter now had the reputation and the looks of a legendary pirate, but nothing came. There wasn’t even the hint of a whisper from the remnants of her old self, in spite of the situation being perfect for her unwanted input. All she had was silence.
In panic, Jen briefly searched her mind for that familiar corner of persisting personality, and found it missing. Whatever had burned away her left eye had also burned away Old Jen, leaving what was left to feel fractured and alone.
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Planetary Administration Office, Perfection, Class Three World
Planetary Administrator Golvek
The Planetary Administration office on Perfection was an exercise in luxury, a sizeable complex that neatly merged the need for utility with the desire for absurd luxury. It was almost like a palace compared to most planets, but on a planet like Perfection it was exactly what was expected.
Perfection, after all, was a world that had been carefully redesigned to be as gentle, relaxing and pleasant as possible, and that meant it was a big step above the other, entirely natural populated worlds of the Dominion.
And normally the planet basically ran itself, with only minimal input required from the Administration office, or more specifically from Golvek. Today, however, was not a normal kind of day.
A normal kind of day did not include being dragged away from an important game of Belfu to be told that Hunters were in orbit and were making very specific demands over the supply of their one imprisoned human to their ship.
“What exactly was their message?” Golvek asked his people – he didn’t care to remember their names – as he sat down in his never-before-used critical situation command chair. “And what details can we get from the scans?”
“The scans make no sense…” one of his clerks relayed to him. “Our sensor technicians are reporting that the vessel is equipped with a massive amount of reactor potential, along with a sensor suite that rivals those aboard capital ships.”
“Could it be some sort of scout?” Golvek wondered aloud. “It would make sense for a scout to have those sorts of things, and it may suggest how they located the human under all of that concrete.”
Mantu, an ex-corporate Glinghi male who served as counsel to Golvek made his own thoughts known. “Whatever it is, it has advised us that it wants all humans in our care. It says that any failure to comply will bring the Swarm of Swarms… I do not believe that this is even worth a discussion; the human was to be executed, at least this way its death can serve some additional use.”
Golvek rubbed his teeth together, slipping some cqcq leaves into his mouth as he pondered the situation. He was a great proponent of thinking things out very thoroughly before acting, and usually Perfection was the ideal place for that sort of thing. Right now he was finding it to be anything but; Hunters, like humans, forced him to be hurried in all things, and did not give Golvek proper time to consider all alternatives. “I am inclined to agree… but what if we simply destroy their vessel and claim we never received the message?”
“I don’t believe that will work,” Mantu replied. “They have already advised that their fleet knows that they have arrived here. Frankly I don’t see why we are hesitating at all, any prospect of saving lives should be acted upon.”
That was obvious, it was also simply not part of ‘the plan’ that Golvek had been told to operate under. The human named Darragh Houston was to have escaped from captivity in two days, thanks to an oversight made by his guards; he was not supposed to be fed to Hunters! She would not be at all pleased with that decision, and Golvek knew the dangers of disappointing that one.
“Perhaps there is a way for everyone to be happy,” Golvek said thoughtfully, wondering what would have to be done to move the schedule up to get it all happening roughly now-ish. Not that he wouldn’t be willing to throw everything he had at it; after all, his political survival depended on it.
He turned his attention back to his confused counselman. “Leave this matter to me, Mantu. I will ensure that everything ends in a manner we will all find satisfying.”
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Perfection Penitentiary, Perfection, Class Three World
Darragh Houston
The first unusual thing that Darragh noticed was all the talk about the Hunter ship in orbit, apparently making demands to collect him. It was strange enough that the usually stoic guards were talking at all, let alone about something that would inevitably effect Darragh; it was completely bizarre the way they completely ignored a maintenance worker entering the room and leaving pack of equipment behind, within easy reach of Darragh, and then vacating the room to leave Darragh to his own devices.
It was clear that there was some trickery afoot, and that they were attempting to play Darragh for some fool. No doubt they were hoping that he would escape, and then they’d be able to wash their hands of the whole situation.
Well… they’d be waiting for a while. There was no way he was going out there to feed himself to those things; if they wanted him gone they were going to have to drag him out of there.
That didn’t mean that he didn’t check the pack for what it contained, and nor did it mean that he didn’t gorge himself on the bland nutrient spheres he found there. There was also enough material in the sack itself to cut himself up a horrible pair of trousers, deciding that if he was going to be eaten then he would be eaten with his clothes on.
It seemed that when you were screwed no matter what you did, your list of priorities was cut way down.
+++++ +++++
Spot, orbiting Perfection, Dominion Class Three World
Adrian Saunders
“What the fuck is taking so long?” Adrian asked, completely and utterly bored. “I thought you said this was going to be quick and easy.”
“Askit is getting me the information now,” Trix said apologetically. “He’s currently monitoring the communications on the planet and came across some interesting conversations. Patching it through… now.”
“-just sitting there?!” demanded an angry voice, full of authority. “They’re supposed to be relentless killers and escape artists… how many times have you damned Corti misplaced the ones you’ve abducted?”
“That was Planetary Administrator Golvek,” Trix explained. “This conversation is being had with Prison Administrator Ruvut.”
The next voice was unmistakeably owned by a Corti, filled with the usual snide self-importance coupled with a distinct lack of significant emotion. “Darragh Houston has not been just ‘sitting there’. He has spent the last few minutes gorging himself on nutrient spheres and turning a perfectly serviceable pack into a garment. I believe he may be so terrified that he has entirely lost his mind.”
Golvek grumbled loudly, not at all mollified by the explanation. “I would have you ensure he finds it again before I am forced to make further concessions with the Hunters! Do you want them to pay you a visit, Prison Administrator?”
“I most assuredly do not,” Ruvut replied, unsettled by Corti standards. “I will see to it that Darragh Houston is ejected from this facility under the guise of some… administrative error. I trust he will have transport waiting for him?”
“It’s already waiting. See it happens in short order or I will not be responsible for what the Hunters choose to do,” Golvek commanded. “Goodbye.”
The communication link ended, and Adrian let out a frustrated sigh. “So… they’re trying to get him to escape so we can, what? Fucking catch him?”
“It certainly seems that way,” Trix replied. “Thus far we have not been able to determine why they haven’t simply handed him over.”
“Something stinks like all-fuck about this, Trix,” said Adrian, adjusting himself so that his feet, which had been up on the next chair over, were now firmly on the floor. “There’s some kind of bullshit going on that we can’t see. Maybe we should try for Plan B?”
“I could put the pressure on first,” Trix suggested. “Maybe they’ll give in if the threats become too serious?”
“You might overplay your hand if you do that…” Adrian said before remembering who he was talking to. “I mean… if you say too much to them they might figure out something’s up.”
Trix considered this briefly, then relented. “There’s a strong possibility that this could happen. I suppose it’s time for Plan B.”
Adrian picked up his shotgun and checked it over one last time. “Rightio, we better get a fucking move on then.”
A moment later the cloaking systems re-engaged, and the engines were pushing them down towards the planet below. The way Adrian figured it, if neither the aliens nor Darragh Houston were going to hand over Darragh Houston, it looked like it was up to him.
+++++
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Planetary Administration Office, Perfection, Class Three World
Planetary Administrator Golvek
At the report of the Hunter vessel reentering cloak, Golvek knew for certain that he’d run out of time. If Ruvut couldn’t get the human out of there within the next few minutes… well, that’d be it for Ruvut; there wasn’t much use trying to save a Corti at the best of times, let alone one too useless to purposefully achieve the release of a creature countless of other Corti had accidentally released before.
The level of incompetence was so staggering that Golvek unkindly wished the Hunters would take their time on the Prison Administrator. Maybe take a limb at a time… that would be fitting, especially since Golvek himself would undoubtedly be torn apart in the near future; the media on Perfection could be truly vicious.
“The Hunter ship… can we try and track it?” he asked hopefully. “Surely we must know where to look?”
The clerk responsible for conferring with the sensor techs put his link on hold. “Not the ship itself, but they are detecting atmospheric disturbances in keeping with an object of that size. It’s headed for the prison.”
“Should I order the Planetary Guard to intercept?” Mantu asked. “I am certain that they will already be on standby.”
Golvek indicated to the negative. “Have them set up a containment area. This Hunter incursion will be tolerated at the prison only. Transmit that fact to those wretched flesh-eaters. Anything beyond that will earn a full repudiation by our forces.”
Mantu looked nervous, the telltale tittilations of stress showing around his neck. “You want me to threaten the Hunters?”
“If nothing else, the humans have shown us that Hunters must be dealt with using a firm hand,” Golvek said. “A very firm hand, Mantu. Send the message.”
His counselman turned to do as he was bade, only to stop as the world around them shook under a deep thunder. It was not a noise that Golvek was familiar with, and he turned to his more widely experienced counselman for an answer. “Mantu…” he said quietly. “What was that just now?”
Mantu looked at him, his skin now positively palpitating, and gathered his words. “Administrator,” he said shakily, “that was a sound I haven’t heard since the attack at the head office of my former employer. That was an explosion, and a very big one.”
“An explosion?” Golvek repeated, not making sense of it. Hunters used many dreadful things, but big explosions did not feature amongst them. “Where?”
It was the clerk who answered him. “Report from the Planetary Guard… most of the prison was just levelled. The Guard Commander is asking whether you want him to move in.”
Golvek stared at him, mouth open and stuck halfway between issuing two opposing orders at the same time. Mantu, mercifully, came to the rescue. “The Planetary Administrator has already ordered them to hold a perimeter! No further instruction should be necessary!”
The clerk recoiled from the usually softly-spoken counselman and relayed the message. Golvek, for his part, simply stared at the Robalin with gratitude.
“Mantu,” he said quietly. “Is this the best way to do this?”
Mantu looked anything but confident. “Sorry, Administrator. I’m not sure that it is. I do believe that our forces can hold the line against a Hunter incursion of that size, provided there are no further surprises.”
Golvek grumbled loudly, his temper strained by the stress of the situation. “If there’s anything I hate it’s surprises.”
No sooner had he said it that a great, rumbling voice rolled across them, as though screamed by a giant, forming the words of Golvek’s distress.
“Surprise parental incest?” he repeated, wondering exactly what in the void that was supposed to mean.
“Oh…” said Mantu, somehow growing even more horrified. “It can’t be…”
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Perfection Penitentiary, Perfection, Class Three World
Adrian Saunders
“Surprise, motherfuckers!” Adrian shouted, his thunderous outburst passing through the vacuum suit and roughly matching the coilbolt bombardment in volume. That wasn’t all him, most of it was Trix getting really creative with turning Spot’s kinetics into sound, but it filled the rising cloud of dust and debris like the all consuming voice of a demon-god.
Frankly he felt sorry for any poor fucker hearing it unprotected – his own ears were pained through the suit – but he had wanted shock and awe and here it was. Anybody who’d been stumbling around in a blind panic when he’d landed was now screaming in pain and terror on the ground, some of them while staring at him. He was armed with a SPAS12 semi-automatic combat shotgun, capable of delivering up to four rounds per second if you were quick enough, but in this particular case it was just a useful prop in a show of overpowering force. The same could be said about the vacuum suit, for while it served to protect him from the choking dust it also obscured his features. This was a psychological battle, and it would require wills far more resilient than than those of prison guards to resist the performance he was putting on today. It was so loud and obvious, in fact, that he thought that the entire city must surely have heard it.
“You will all be consumed,” Adrian snarled, trying to remain as savage as possible. “There will be none who escape the Swarm of fucking Swarms… unless one condition is met!”
Adrian paused dramatically, letting the booming words sink in. “You must hand over all humans immediately.”
He had decided to be as vague as possible in regards to the actual quantity of humans he wanted handed over, although they’d made sure to make mention of tge one being held in the prison, by location if not by name.
“You will now bring the human of this place before me!” he continued, waiting only long enough to let them begin to recover from the auditory barrage before roaring his final words. “Fucking, now!”
And then, as if by magic, there was Darragh standing before him, wearing nothing but a hastily converted sack that he needed to hold up at all times and a look of pure disbelief at the extent of the damage that had been done and was still being done to the complex that had held him.
He turned to face Adrian, looked him up and down, and shouted at the top of his lungs. “Well I’m feckin’ now, so perhaps you could turn the feckin’ volume down?”
Adrian did so, and then opened his helmet to show his face. “It’s me.” he said.
Darragh didn’t look surprised. “Yeah, I know it is. You’re not exactly subtle, you know.”
“Fair enough,” Adrian said, and nodded to the improvised clothing. “So… the bag’s a new look.”
“Thank you for noticing,” Darragh replied with instant sarcasm, “I put a lot of work into it… look, is this a feckin’ rescue or a craft workshop?”
Adrian sniffed. “This is a rescue,” he said, stepping back into the doorway that appeared from nowhere. “So, we’d better get a fucking move on.”
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Planetary Guard, Perfection, Class Three World
Commander Dursus
“Not Hunters then…” Dursus repeated, finally speaking to someone with actual authority. “The problem is that we’re configured to fight Hunters, not some sort of… super-human.”
Counselman Mantu was not to be calmed, however. “Throw everything you have at him! I hear nerve-jammers work-“
“We do not have those awful things,” Dursus angrily interrupted. “And even if we did we wouldn’t be deploying them within city limits. The best we can do is attempt to bring down the ship, or to use the Irbzrkian stun guns. My people have combat harnesses, we should easily be a match for him.”
“I am forwarding you all of the details I have on that individual,” Mantu replied with intense terseness. “I suggest you read it promptly and develop your own opinion, Commander.”
He terminated the communications link before Dursus could get another word in, leaving the Commander to stare at the display in frustration. Then, after a moment spent composing himself, he brought up the human’s file and began to read.
Moments later he called for backup.
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Spot, Skies of Perfection, Class Three World
Adrian Saunders
“Alright, let’s get the fuck out of here,” Adrian ordered Trix after they began to lift off. “Get us back to the Superior Firepower and we’ll figure out how to get Darragh here some fucking pants.”
“Feck off,” Darragh shot back unhappily. “I’ve spent the last few days without clothes! It’s not a joke!”
Adrian shrugged a little awkwardly. “Kind of is, mate…”
“Adrian, we have inbound Planetary Guard vessels closing on our position,” Trix interrupted. “They’re probably tracking us through atmospheric disturbance.”
“How exact is that?” Adrian asked, suddenly concerned that the cloaking system wasn’t going to be of much use.
“Not very, but they have a lot of guns,” Trix replied. “I am undertaking random movement patterns to make it as difficult as possible for them to hit us. You should wear your safety belts – it may be unpleasant.”
“Sorry,” Darragh said, eyes wide, “but is that Trycrur? Isn’t she supposed to be dead?”
“Ye-” Adrian began, a moment before the gravity suddenly shifted hard to the right. He found himself pressed up against a very unhappy, mostly naked Irishman and metal bulkhead. Loose odds and ends bounced rained down on him.
“Fuck!” Adrian cursed, rubbing his head, “I think that was a datapad just then-“
Gravity switched to the left, and the two men stared at each other for a moment before plunging back in the other direction.
“Trix,” Adrian grated as he shoved Darragh off to the side. “This is really fucking unpleasant.”
“She did say to wear safety belts,” Darragh reminded him, reaching upward towards the chairs and finding them just out of reach, and gravity chose that moment to switch again. “Oh dear…”
“Mate,” Adrian grunted, shoving the Irishman off him for what he seriously hoped was the last time. “I’d really like it if you put that fucking bag back on.”
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Perfection, Class Three World
Vakno
Perfection was a beautiful planet, manufactured from a hospitable world to be the most hospitable planet technology could achieve. Absolutely everything was optimal, and usually it was hard to imagine anything that would have actually improved it. Sometimes Vakno would wish it was more industrial, or had better networks, or one minor thing or another. Today, for the first time, there was a very compelling reason to leave paradise.
That was the arrival of Adrian Saunders.
Prior to her investigation into the Gaoian, Chir, she had not been particularly aware of the human disaster known as Adrian Saunders except in the most peripheral of ways. It was the name of a man who was near myth, who had crushed the Hunters in a defeat so humiliating that they had felt the need to effectively declare war upon that Saunders’ entire species. Subsequent stories revolved around battles with the corporations ending in wholesale carnage, the theft of starships and spacestations, and of a secret war against the shadowy myth of the Hierarchy.
They had, of course, been easily dismissed with anyone possessing a solid grasp on reality, but there had to be elements of truth behind it. That, at least, was what she had thought until current events proved that the human disaster was aptly named. Her agent in the Administration office, already on watch for any indication of what had transpired with Chir, Keffa, and Darragh on her very doorstep, had reported that he had recognised the voice in the rolling thunder deafening the city.
Adrian Saunders, the man who had shattered a corporation, was busy doing the same to the prison. Adrian Saunders, who had a Corti companion well known for violating computer networks, as her own had so recently been violated.
Adrian Saunders… friend to Chir and Keffa and Darragh, and someone who Vakno had no wish to meet. At best it would end with her business being destroyed, and at worst it would end with her death alongside it. She wasn’t going to take the chance.
“Sentinels,” she said, issuing vocal commands to her two sentry bots. “Make sure you kill anybody who enters this room who isn’t me. Especially if they are another Corti or an over-muscled human.”
The sentry bots responded with their regular tonal acknowledgement, followed by an unfamiliar voice. “Intelligent instructions, I’d be offended if I wasn’t so complimented by your obvious fear of us.”
Vakno froze, staring at the sentry bots. They made no move to arm their weapons, but there was no chance she’d be able to escape her own office without them exacting a bloody cost on her, if she was able to make it out at all. “May I presume that I am speaking with the legendary criminal, ‘Askit’?”
He laughed, a strange sound for a Corti to make. “You may, Vakno. Now, since both of our reputations precede us, it seems we can skip straight to the chat.”
Vakno thought quickly about how the Corti hacker could be controlling her sentry bots. Normally they were tied into her personal network, and used it for all their standard software resourcing, but she had disabled that when he had made his first attempt to access her computer systems.
“You’re using their wireless connection…” she told him, “but how? There’s no wireless networks close enough to connect to them. I made certain of that!”
Another chuckle, annoying to even her calm Corti psychology. “I’m not without my resources, Vakno. Once I had determined your address it was a straightforward matter to deploy a wireless device to your vicinity.”
“I would have detected a probe!” she said, unwilling to believe him at face value. “I am also ‘not without my resources.'”
“It’s a cloaked missile, Vakno,” Askit said flatly. “It’s outside your door. Did I forget to mention that ‘you’re not going anywhere’? Because you’re not going anywhere.”
“I didn’t have anything to do with the disappearance of your friends, Hacker,” Vakno told him, pointedly not moving from her spot. If what he said was true, and she currently had no reason to disbelieve him, she didn’t have any place to move to. Normally, had she been threatened in her own office, she could have countered with equal threats, or threats that far outweighed the slight, but right now she was being held hostage by her own machines, controlled by a Corti who was already ostracised by his own kind, and had access to a human who did absurd things like attack planets.
“I don’t care whether you were responsible, Vakno,” Askit replied. “I don’t care if you were behind the whole thing. But Adrian does, do you understand? I’m interested in him getting back to what’s important, and sorry to say that it isn’t you.”
“You want information,” Vakno interpreted. Threats were one thing, and so was vengeance, but it seemed that, like most people, the Hacker was coming to her for what she traded in.
“Chir, Keffa, and Grznk,” Askit said bluntly. “Not to mention the Vaulting Star. Where would we find them?”
“Chir and Keffa were taken by corporate forces,” Vakno told him. The information only had an eighty-percent chance of being true, but she judged that it was more important right now to tell the Hacker what she knew. Her own revenge could come later. “As for Grznk – the Corti doctor once abducted by Adrian Saunders, I presume – I have no idea where either he or the Vaulting Star are located.”
“That’s not the answer I was hoping for,” Askit mused. “Finding Grznk is a priority.”
“All I know is that the events coincided,” Vakno told him. “It seems near certain that they are related. That’s all I know, I promise you.”
The sentry bots didn’t respond. She waited a little longer, and still they failed to respond. She tried to move around a little, and found that they did not follow her.
“Sentries,” she instructed, speaking with deliberate slowness. “Shut down.”
This time they verbalised their errors in their typical machine tones. “Data transfer in progress. Shutdown queued.”
“Terminate data transfer!” she ordered immediately, running around to her console. The command was followed immediately, followed by the shutdown of both her bots.
Now she was faced with the decision of escaping while she could and getting away from her compromised robots and the cloaked missile just outside of her door, or by determining just how much of her information had been stolen.
Vakno was a professional. She chose the latter.
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Superior Firepower, subverted Hierarchy Command Cruiser
Xayn, son of Xagh
“Who are they?” Xayn hissed quietly, crouching into hiding alongside the small grey alien with a large head. “This vessel is supposed to be cloaked, was it not?”
“This vessel is cloaked,” the small grey alien replied rather testily. “We’re being boarded by somebody capable of figuring out where we are anyway.”
“Do you have any thoughts on who is doing so?” Xayn asked again. An eagerness for battle, to prove himself his father’s son was burning within him, but his father had always cautioned him to know when to fight his battles; that was the difference between a fighter and a champion.
“Given how easily they have intercepted us, I’d consider it most likely to be the Hierarchy involved,” the little alien replied. “That means that, if they’re prepared for us, they’ll have a small army armed with the deadliest weapons on offer. If they know that Adrian isn’t here, then they’re probably not expecting much in the way of resistance.”
“We will need to know more of these forces before we show them the error of their ways,” Xayn determined. “Those airborne camera units…”
“Are already scanning the area,” the little alien finished. “And that doesn’t bode well. We’ve definitely been breached, and I’m noticing that doors are being opened, but I’m not seeing any movement. It seems likely that our enemy is also cloaked.”
“That is unfortunate,” said Xayn. “Perhaps we should destroy this vessel and our enemies in the process?”
“I’m not destroying my ship,” the little alien hissed back, then grew more thoughtful. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not willing to damage it a little.”
“If you are intending to cause a reactor leak, I must tell you that I am not immune to radiation,” Xayn informed him. “Although I have little doubt that it would accomplish your victory.”
The little alien scowled at him. “I was going to use the cloaked missiles inside the ship.”
Xayn studied the little grey face. “That is crazy.”
“That’s crazy?!” the little alien demanded, disbelief filling his voice for some reason. “You just suggested irradiating the entire vessel along with everyone on it!”
“Then tell me more about what their likely plans are,” Xayn instructed him. “My brain-matter is the soft, absorbent material that is ready to accept your knowledge.”
“You say terrible things!” the little grey alien informed him. “As for their plans… they’ll head for the reactor and the command deck, try to get control over intra-ship sensors. That’s ship-boarding basics, and nobody has done it differently until humans showed up.”
“Then if we allow them to do these things, we will be doomed to a fate equal or exceeding the terribleness of death?” Xayn persisted, and waited for the perplexed little alien to nod his confirmation.
“Good,” Xayn said, breaking into a predatory grin. “Then it seems that I have a plan…”
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Superior Firepower, subverted Hierarchy Command Cruiser
Shock Troop Leader Vavis
“Tight formations,” Vavis instructed his squad. “We do this just like the Gaoian vessel. Green Team has the Reactor, we have the Command Deck. Execute any crew on sight, none of them are ours this time around.”
“Report says that it should just be the Corti hacker,” Adil reminded them. He was Vavis’ nephew on his sister’s side, and still new to serving in the mercenary corps, so unless Vavis wanted to have some rather pointed discussions with his sister he’d been forced into doing babysitting. Adil was improving, albeit slowly, which was the only reason Vavis hadn’t arranged for the kind of accident that got a young Chehnasho retired to civilian life on a permanent basis.
“Don’t believe everything you read,” Vavis told him as they progressed down the first corridor of the strangely constructed vessel. “The amount of times the employer hasn’t got their shit together is roughly one-hundred percent.”
Colphis laughed behind him, the deep croak of an old Chehnasho warrior. He’d been with Vavis for as long as he’d been running the company, and they’d survived some bad runs of luck together; besides Vavis himself, Colphis was uniquely endowed with bitter experience when it came to working under inadequate information.
“Anything show up on the ECM field?” he asked his old comrade. “It’d be nice to know how quiet we’ve been.”
“Some hovercams tried sweeping us,” Colphis reported after checking his datapad. “Smart use of tools. The rest of it is fairly smooth, if you don’t count the doors.”
“They’re able to see them opening?” Vavis asked, mentally cursing the oversight. Knowing which doors were opening was as good as knowing where the incursion force was at all times.
“They can,” Colphis replied. “Not that I’ve seen any more hovercams sweeping the location. The data-jammers might have been sufficient.”
“Do you really think so?” Vavis asked.
Colphis croaked out another laugh. “Nope.”
Vavis sighed. “Didn’t think so. Let the other team know, there might be a way to use that kind of information to our advantage. Maybe we could-“
There was a clang, and they all froze.
“What was that?” Adil whispered nervously.
“Probably something that wants to kill us,” Colphis informed him. “But maybe it’s just a Dizi rat.”
Another clang, louder this time.
“Big Dizi rat…” Adil mused.
They kept moving, but more slowly, ready for anything that might appear. Then they came to the door.
It clanged.
“There’s something on the other side!” Adil hissed, his fear evident in his voice.
“Foolishness,” Vavis replied. “Why would the targets be banging on their own door?”
He looked to Colphis, who held the portable scanner. “Is there someone on the other side?”
Colphis looked over his datapad. “No lifeforms within (ten metres).”
Vavis looked back to his nephew. “There you are then,” he said. “Open the door.”
Adil hesitated, but was hurried along under Vavis’ glare. If the layout of this vessel was anything like standard vessels, this door would lead to a large staging room of some kind.
“Be ready,” Vavis instructed as the door opened, his weapon drawn. They were over-prepared, knowing that a human could arrive while they were still working, and had heavier weaponry and combat suits than they would otherwise concern themselves with. The suits they wore were custom-made, and would stand up to three successive anti-tank gun blasts before the built-in kinetics failed.
They were confident, but they were experienced, and when the door opened and they were faced by a strange, reptilian alien wearing no armour at all, and carrying only a very unimpressive looking weapon, Vavis’s first action was to take aim.
He clicked that something was wrong about the time he noticed the way it grinned at him, leathery lips drawn back to reveal teeth as sharp as a Vulza’s… and come to think of it, the whole creature in general put him in mind of a bipedal Vulza.
The order to open fire rose within his throat, crossing his lips a moment later, his fingers already beginning to pull the trigger. Vavis knew that there were faster men, Five-Skulls Zripob for example, but by Chehnash standards Vavis was pretty damned quick on the draw.
The strange, reptilian alien was unfortunately faster still.
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