Record 573-Black-13
+Recovered from C11-Orange-712-Yellow-6+
“Those lights,” Vivrez whispered from off-camera, zooming in on the glowing sparks that moved so energetically around the summit of the mountain. “They are nothing like anything else on Beyurke, Vassa!”
The camera turned towards Vassa to record her reaction, although whether this was on purpose or by habit it was impossible to say. She stood there in evening’s fading light, dumbfounded as she stared up at the lights, and it took a few moments before she absently gave her answer. “I didn’t believe… Vivrez, I’m sorry… maybe you were right.”
“Don’t worry,” he replied. “I know it sounded crazy, but…”
He turned the camera back up to the top of the mountain. “Well… it’s easy to see why you didn’t believe me.”
“They’re so high up though…” Vassa observed, and the camera turned back to record her. This time she was regarding it – or at least Vivrez – with a sad frown. “I don’t think we can make it…”
“Vassa–“ Vivrez began.
Vassa interrupted him with a raised hand, it was full of her own hair. “I know I can’t make it, Vivrez. Look at me, I’m dying. I’m already dead, and I’m just too stubborn to lie down, but even I can’t see myself climbing up there on force of will.”
There was silence for a moment, and Vassa’s gaze refocused on the camera. She dropped the hair. “We should try and draw them down here.”
“That’s a good idea,” Vivrez replied. “We could build a fire… a big fire, to attract them down here.”
Turning away, Vassa began to search the ground. “I’ll gather the wood,” she said, “if you’d like to help?”
Vivrez moved towards her, reaching a hand out and clasping her shoulder to stop her in what she was doing. She started, looking up at him, and shooting unhappy looks at the camera. “Vivrez, what–“
“In the morning, Vassa,” he said gently. “We don’t know if they’re friendly, and even with all our guns we’ll still need our strength to fight alien invaders.”
She considered this for a moment, then replied with a resolute nod. “Alright. Now turn that off and let’s find some shelter. If they’re hostile, I don’t want to be found while I’m sleeping.”
“Don’t worry,” Vivrez replied, “I saw a cave not far away. It’s sheltered, but we might have to huddle.”
Vassa snorted. “As usually, you’re disgusting.”
End Record
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Cavaras, Corti Directorate Core World
Laphor Metmin
The Corti Core world was in chaos. Mere days ago it had been subjected to an attack that would have rocked any border world; the kind of destruction that had been rendered here was the variety that would plunge most core worlds into complete anarchy as everybody scrambled for self-preservation, but since this was a Corti planet the worst that had occurred was a significant disruption to every aspect of their lives.
Laphor Metmin stared down at the sites of destruction that had been visited upon the planet as they passed over the cityscape. It was sloppy work, with impact craters replacing the headquarters of several major corporations, but she thought it was the kind of work that suited somebody with the title of ‘Human Disaster’.
Six-Skulls Zripob disagreed, and he made the extent of this belief known by hurling his half-empty cup of guimeri juice across the room with startling force. He turned off the video feed and rose from his seat to regard Laphor with his calmness fully returned. “This is what they call ‘news’, is it?”
“It sounds reasonable, though, doesn’t it?” she asked. “Given his history on this planet?”
“You forget that I know Adrian Saunders,” Zripob replied. “He leaves a mess, but he has never before caused such significant death and destruction of people unrelated to his interests.”
He raised a hand to interrupt the query that he knew was coming. “And Chir would simply loathe this kind of wanton destruction. It’s a pride thing, but it is predictable. I am certain that this was not caused by either of them.”
“Yet there are reports of Adrian Saunders having been on the planet at the time,” Laphor reminded him. “There were countless eye-witnesses to his visit to the markets, and the trader who served him said the Human Disaster had taken sets of non-functional clothing without paying.”
Zripob’s lip curled in a cold smile. “That I can believe. And it’s possible that his presence here was not unrelated to the attacks, but we lack the information to make that kind of guess. The question is: where have they gone from here?”
“The authorities have no information on that,” Laphor told him. She was fairly confident that they were truly ignorant, because there was certainly no reason that anybody in the local government would be willing to conceal that sort of information, and especially not with the kind of price Laphor was offering. All avenues she’d searched had turned over exactly no useful information, and there was the very real possibility that her enquiries had been noticed by someone worth avoiding. There was certainly no need, however, to bother Six-Skulls Zripob with unfortunate details like that. “They won’t be here, though. We could offer a bounty for information?”
He nodded, slowly at first and then with more approval. “Good idea. See that it is done, but don’t get too extravagant – we don’t want to encourage anybody to get creative with the concept of ‘information’. Also make sure you notice anything that might be considered ‘unusual’, and forward it to my desk. Adrian Saunders has a way of causing all varieties of trouble, be it subtle or overt, and I’ve been studying him for long enough to guess which incidents were his.”
She bowed slightly, stepped aside as he exited her office, and waited for the doors to close before she muttered her quiet abuse and indignation at the way he moved around the ship as if he owned it. She didn’t much care for the way that her crew were increasingly listening to his orders without them first being filtered through her, either, and that particular issue was progressing at an alarming rate.
But she was a good soldier, even if she was a paid one, and she would continue to follow his instruction for as long as he was able to pay her. If that situation changed, however, he would find himself outside of her ship faster than a wuko in a foffin chase, and she didn’t much care whether there was an atmosphere out there at the time.
But for now she was a good soldier, and that’s why, instead of kicking the dangerous psychopath off her ship, she went over to her desk and began placing calls.
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Out of sight, vicinity of Cavaras
Tjheth, Irzht Clansman of the Eye
Following the human was easy, but catching up with him was proving to be significantly more difficult. This galaxy’s news networks were well established, and a disruptive influence such as this ‘Adrian Saunders’ was always headline news. The automated information scrapers in the scout ship’s systems had no issue in detecting these reports as soon as they appeared, but the human did not have the tendency to stay around after causing trouble and was generally gone by the time the news feeds even put their stories to air.
Tjheth had to admit, his quarry was more challenging than he had been expecting, and potentially entirely paranoid judging from the apparently random movements throughout the galaxy. It was true that there were several groups now trying to track them down, but that seemed only natural when the standard result of your visitation was a state of emergency.
He checked the communications log again, bothered by the time it was taking for a response from the Administrators. He’d received an acknowledgement almost immediately, an assurance that his message was important and that he could expect a response within five cycles, but while he was still technically within that time frame he’d also hoped that, given the nature of his report, his enquiries would have warranted some priority.
The Ship Computer interrupted his line of thought, intoning its notification in the deep, pleasantly abrasive voice that was in use across the Empire. “New information received.”
He waved his hand absently in the direction of the nearest camera. “Advise.”
“Corti Directorate Security reports unscheduled access in a low-value research station,” the computer reported. “They suspect pirates, squatters, or simply administrative error. I have already cross-referenced this with the owning corporation and found nothing to suggest legitimate causes. This region also sees little pirate activity, the facility is too small to serve as a functional base of operations, and too far from anywhere to be of use to squatters.”
Tjheth folded his hands across his tummy and gently drummed with his fingers. This was certainly out of the ordinary, and there was a possibility that this was the human. It had to be at least somewhat likely if the Computer had seen fit to advise him of it in the first place, and that meant it was worth checking out. “Let’s go and take a look.”
“By your command,” the Computer replied, accepting the input. “Having predicted this command, I had already mapped out a flight-path and readied FTL. This is estimated to have saved you (3.2 minutes).”
Tjheth nodded, it was always pleasing to save time. “Be certain to charge the Cradle; this individual is known to be quite dangerous and I don’t want any accidents.”
“Cradle is already fully charged in anticipation of your needs,” the Computer replied. “This is estimated to have saved you (6.3 minutes).”
Irritated, Tjheth clucked quietly to himself. It was very convenient to have a Digital Intelligence capable of weighing probabilities and ready to respond to his every need, but it was also somewhat annoying and unsettling to have his commands immediately met because they’d all been completely anticipated. It was amusingly ironic, looked at from another angle, that in an age when every order or desire could be immediately fulfilled by support systems, the only thing he’d want was for it to all be marginally less efficient.
“Computer,” he said, reclining back into his favourite seat. “Open report: Somebody Has Been A Naughty Hatchling. Append new entry and timestamp.”
He waited for the computer to indicate that his order had been accepted, then proceeded with his entry. “Remain in pursuit of human ‘Adrian Saunders’, and have received a fortunate lead early in my investigation. Vessel is currently on an intercept vector, and will eliminate any detected human shortly after arrival. There is no indication that the technology has spread beyond this single individual and spacecraft, but a thorough scan will be initiated as soon as we identify the human’s spacecraft. End of entry.”
Now all he had to do was wait and, in keeping with his task as an observer, watch as the human was dealt with. Only (eighteen minutes) had to pass before this interesting chapter in his observation would finally come to its end, and he’d be able to return to his anointed duties.
“Computer,” he said, considering how best to pass the time, and what would best accompany the death of this dangerous individual, “what have we in the way of snacks?”
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Hravin IV Observation Station
Adrian Saunders
“The human female releases a scent in your presence,” Xayn informed Adrian once Chir and the crew of the Devastator had departed. “I do not like it.”
“She’s a little young for me mate,” Adrian replied, running through one last check in case there was something left worth salvaging in the small facility.
“You also emit a scent,” Xayn continued. “It is thick and husky, and reminds me of fur.”
Adrian rolled his eyes, opening a drawer and poking through the contents for anything of interest. “I said she was too young, I didn’t say I was fucking blind.”
“Amongst the V’Straki, the age of the female made no difference, provided she was mature–“
Adrian raised his hand and Xayn stopped talking. “I don’t think I really want to hear where you’re headed with this.”
“They were kept in colonies, to serve the species by increasing our number,” Xayn finished. “It was efficient. But not, I think, preferable to working beside them when there were no longer enough males to do the physical labour.”
Frowning, Adrian could only shake his head and sigh. “Well… I guess it’s nice to be proven… wrong?”
Askit interrupted the terrible conversation without preamble. “Get back in here, we need to go. Your ridiculous sensor system is barely picking up something huge on an inbound trajectory, and it’s moving in fast.”
Adrian slid the drawer back in, and motioned to Xayn to follow. They hurried back towards the airlocks that connected the ship and the research station, and began the process of transitioning from one to the other. “How big is ‘big’?”
“A lot bigger than that space station we destroyed,” Askit replied. “Or at least a lot more massive. You know how it works.”
Xayn looked at Adrian, his expression serious. “Moving something that large at such a high warp speed… it would take a lot of power. These reactors are insufficient.”
Adrian frowned, recalling how many contemporary reactors had been needed to get the Zhadersil moving at anything like its intended velocity. “I know. Do you think it’s the Hierarchy?”
“I don’t see who else it could be,” Askit replied, plainly worried by his overly-curt tone. “But to be honest, I really don’t want to wait around and make a confirmation on that.”
“You’ll get no argument from me, mate,” Adrian agreed, and hurried into Spot once the airlock completed its routine. “Let’s slow them down. Hit them with a fucking Gravity Spike when they’re close enough.”
“Spike activated,” Trix immediately responded, which meant that the larger ship was far closer than Adrian would have liked it to be. “Warp field has been interdicted, inbound ship is now reduced to sub-light speeds.”
Adrian hurried over to his seat, and Xayn joined him as co-pilot – not that he had much experience, but he was a Deathworlder and much of the knack for piloting these ships lay in having quick reflexes – while Askit sat at his terminal. Adrian glanced over at him, and they shared a worried look. “What’s it look like?”
“It’s cloaked,” Askit replied. “I’ve had to get creative. Fortunately the research facility is basically one big sensor system, and all I’ve had to do is retarget it. It’d be best if we got the fuck out of here before we ran the data.”
Adrian nodded once, then turned his attention back to what he was doing… which was, now that he thought about it, absolutely nothing. Even in the most basic of ships, flight was generally an automated affair, but aboard Spot it was Trix who did all the flying and as a digitised mind she could do it better than any computer or any physical being. Right now she was pushing the gravity drive hard enough that he could feel the inertial compensators struggling to keep up, and the small moon was diminishing behind them.
“FTL is charged,” Trix relayed. “I’m going to have to drop the Gravity Spike if we want it to kick in.”
Adrian looked over to Askit. “Any reason we shouldn’t?”
“Absolutely not!” the little Corti replied with an emphatic shake of his head. “In fact I’d–“
Trix interrupted him. “It didn’t work.”
“Explain why!” Askit snapped.
“As soon as I lower the Spike, an enormous, but faint warp field immediately appears,” Trix replied, sounding distinctly bothered by it. “I hit it with another Spike because it seemed unusual. Now I’m running calculations on what to do.”
Adrian traded a look with Xayn, and while he was no expert on V’Straki expressions it seemed as though the lizardman was as troubled as Adrian himself. “The weapon?”
“I’m not sure,” Xayn replied. “I have only ever read the technical specifications. There was no use for us to have that device on a planet, even as a scorched-earth weapon. My father taught me that it required a full reactor to sufficiently power it fully, and that meant it was only in service aboard the larger warships.”
“Are you talking about the weapon aboard the Zhadersil?” Askit asked. “The one you destroyed?”
Adrian nodded. “But that one… you can’t direct the radiation, it hits fucking everything. Why would they be trying to use it here?”
“That’s a big ship,” Askit replied. “Maybe they built it so they’d be safe. Or maybe they don’t care, because they’re able to back up their minds? If this is the same weapon, we’re going to have to get out of range before we can get away.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” Trix replied bleakly. “I’ve just measured the field… it extends further than our Gravity Spike.”
“So we are going to die,” Askit mused. “I don’t really want to do that.”
He laid out the data pad for them all to see, showing them a picture that appeared to have been cobbled together from several sources. It was poorly rendered, but the general shape was obvious – that of a diamond – and it was clearly absolutely gargantuan in size. “At least,” he said bitterly, “we get to see what our enemy looks like.”
Xayn touched the screen, frowning as much as it was possible for a lizardman to frown, and clicked his claws against the metal casing with clear worry. “This…” he said, trailing off. “I know of it.”
“We’ll talk about it later,” Adrian told him, setting his own course. “Right now I’m a bit fucking busy saving our arses. From what I’ve gathered, some would say that what we’re about to do is fucking suicidal.”
Askit looked at the flight path, assessing it, and visibly paled, which was admittedly quite the achievement for someone already on the lighter side of grey. “Yes…” he said slowly, turning his eyes back towards Adrian with deliberate slowness, “and what would you say of it?”
Adrian grinned at him, dimly aware that his adrenaline was running hot and that he might not be making the best kinds of decisions, but also not caring one whit. “Mate,” he said, “I say it’s only suicidal if it kills us.”