Moogle
Retired Member
LSDF Herald - Opus Insert
Prototype Exploration Craft ‘Herald’
Location: Unknown
Time: Unknown
Destination: Unknown
Something happened.
What was it?
I was there… now I am…?
I? I am.
Heresy.
When held to what standard?
Did you forget?
Of course not!
What did you not forget?
I am Korr’ih, of the Lorath caste Fyunnen, in service to the Matriarchy.
That’s better.
Why was it hard?
Because there is little of that here.
Now you’re just assuming.
Can’t you tell?
Tell what?
Something. Happened.
A sharp gasp, sudden, abrupt, it threatened to strangle the woman who had opened her eyes in a sudden start.
I’m drowning!
No you’re not, you know better.
Breathe.
A slower breath came, steady, it forced open her lungs, as the viscous fluid enriched with atmospheric gasses rolled into her body, infusing her with the necessary elements which served to make life possible, the most important of which being oxygen. Now where… Korr’ih thought, as her mind cleared, her eyes focused, and she took in her surroundings.
Where the Lorath woman found herself was the interior of something. Viscous breathable fluid filled the space she was in; dim lights glimmered from contoured surfaces. Another startling realization gripped her, her heart raced; her hand trembled as she quickly grasped the back of her head, feeling the rigid firm grasp of metal prongs upon the base of her skull.
That does not belong there!
What is it?! WHAT IS IT?!
IT IS INSIDE OF MY HEAD!
Instinctive fear screamed in Korr’ih’s mind, fear that made her suddenly want to scream, to thrash about, to react like a frightened animal. Her instinctive drive was quickly halted just as she was about to rip herself from the thing that had her. She tasted something, she smelled something, and it made her instincts scream all the louder, but not the instincts of a frightened animal.
Blood?
Not mine.
Who does it belong to?
Sudden memories came to her, important thoughts, important fragments of something before.
I am not alone.
“Nicy?” Korr’ih spoke, in the only tongue that was familiar to her, the spoken tongue of her mother, and her mother before her. “Um’erayi din?” Korr’ih spoke into the liquid, her voice off-pitch as it traveled faster than it would through air.
I wish I had some sort of situation report.
A foreign voice sounded inside of Korr’ih’s mind, spoken in her mother tongue; “Situation report: primary power is offline, secondary power available, reserve power active. Propulsion is offline due to power shortage. Defensive systems are offline in standby. Crew member monitors indicate crew members one, two, and three are stable. Crew members four and five are displaying signs of catastrophic traumatic injury. Crew members one through five display indicators of neurological trauma with psychological manifestation, initiating cognitive support protocol.”
It was sudden, clarity grasped Korr’ih, as if she were in an exam where every question pertained to her thoughts, but she had notes to fill in the blanks.
I am aboard the ‘Herald’. I am the commander. My crew is sick. We came here from somewhere else. Arrival here has done something, something that has made us not well. ‘Herald’ is sick too, broken, we need to fix us and the ship. Korr’ih’s thoughts were clearer, yet still were not entirely ‘whole’, as she detached from the machine which had been plugged into her, with a simple thought which requested the thing remove itself.
Movement through the fluid took a degree of exertion from the Fyunnen, until she better understood the mechanics of the fluid, less force meant less resistance. Graceful movement was needed, as she moved to what she recalled was a control station within the bridge of the ‘Herald’. It was the sensor position.
Seated at the console was someone else, a woman, a woman who was clouded in a crimson veil of blood that mingled with the atmospheric fluid, the atmospheric fluid that also kept her from simply bleeding out in full. At a glance, Korr’ih could tell that the woman was dying, not just dying, but dissolving , perhaps even unraveling would be a way to think of what she was witnessing, as if a thread were being pulled from a woven garment. Even with clouded memories and hazy thoughts, Korr’ih’s immediate reaction came as she slammed her open palm against an orange-and-black stripe bordered button, which resulted in a hard transparent shell closing over the seat and the occupant within, and in a sudden rush of motion, a webbing of frost spread within the transparent shell as the occupant was flash-frozen.
“This must be crew member four… or five?” Korr’ih wondered aloud, as she moved to where her memories took her, the forward section of the command area, the section which could best be designated as a cockpit.
There was no scent of blood, no sight of blood, and no sign of anyone else coming apart from their very molecules. In both seats were figures of grey, almost identical, never mind almost, they were entirely identical, including the fact that neither of them were breathing. Something did not add up, the statement from the computer system of the ‘Herald’ indicating that there were only two dying crew members. A sound stirred Korr’ih from her thought, a sound that came quick, sudden, and sharp as it came from one of the two twins.
It was a sound that brought memories of cracking ice, or fracturing rock, and soon that sound was joined by a sight, as one of the motionless twins developed a narrow fracture along her vacantly staring features, before it became apparent that her flesh had rapidly solidified, and before Korr’ih’s eyes, crystalized into a hardened form of what was once a living breathing member of her crew.
New words found Korr’ih’s tongue, not the words spoken by her mother, nor her mother before her; “Is anyone not dying here?” she asked, and deep down, she prayed for a response, ideally any response other than ‘No’.
BEFORE AND OTHERWHERE...
Two figures in an indistinct, hazy memory circled each other like caged wolves, one carrying a revolver, aiming at the other. Between them, wads of money overflowing from burlap divided them - stains of congealed blood tarnishing the cash. "Jeanne," one figure, a blonde man with a thin beard tried to negotiate as the rumble of thunder drowned out the city lights flooding into the apartment, "we agreed to go fifty-fifty, and then split."
The lure of greed had Jeanne hook, line, and sinker. They rolled the place together, only hours ago. The most dangerous part of the heist wasn't disabling the security or . "Too bad, Robert." Jeanne replied, levelling the gun with the man's head, fingers unsteady as she tried to carry her betrayal out. Robert kept his hands up, and his eyes on Jeanne. "I don't need to outrun the fuzz-"
She begun pulling the trigger and slowly, cylinder of the gun rotating slowly as the hammer came back, giving Robert a cue to evade. "I just have to outrun you!" The gun discharged, and in the moment of adrenaline, Robert tried to duck under where he thought the bullet would go. "You chump!" He was a moment too late, misjudging Jeanne's shaky aim, bullet grazing his head, leaving a divot running from his scalp to the back of his head. On the way down, his head hit a step on the ground, and he lay in on the ground in a crumpled heap, bleeding and unconscious.
Watching Robert bleed onto the floor, twitching and breathing haggardly, Jeanne was satisfied that she had hit him and he'd stay down. Slowly, the world around Robert became dark and still as a puddle on the floor grew, the vague sounds of money being pushed back into the bag overheard as his consciousness faded away.
When Robert came to miraculously, he'd never see her again, and set off without his memories or belongings. He was a new man in control of his destiny for better or worse, until...
NOW AND HEREWHERE...
Korr'ih saw a man in one of the gel seats. Not one like her own, and thankfully they still appeared to be physically intact, unlike the others. However, readings were showing a great deal of mental stress within them, convulsing in their seat for moments. The signs soon stabilised, and their breathing returned to normal.
The query from the Lorath woman sounded indistinct, fuzzy, and not in any language he understood. "J...Jeanne?" They asked the world around them, unaware of the liquid medium surrounding. "Jeanne, you bitch... where..." They blinked, trying to raise their hand, now noticing the sluggishness as their hand moved through the liquid, wisps of red from his right dancing through his fingers. Examining his hand, he did not remember wearing a pilot suit. He didn't remember a lot of things. He did, however, recognise that this wasn't the safehouse, and he had no idea what was going on around him.
"Oh - oh god! Where - where am I?" They tried to rise from their seat, speaking a different language to what Korr'ih was familiar with, but it sounded similar in pieces. They looked at Korr'ih, dumbstruck. Vague fragments in her mind recalled a blonde man with a scar on his head - but the gash moved, leaving a white skunk stripe running through his blonde hair, from the right temple to the back of his head.
The way they carried themselves changed - appearing more steely and forceful, even if his thoughts weren't all together in the same place. "Wh-what are you supposed to be?" They asked, again, the language vague to Korr'ih, though bits of it were falling into place. Their gaze was looking all around the cabin, examining the instruments, the shape of the hull, and the frozen red thing.
He touched his temple, probing at his ancient injury, and mouthed expletives, dabbing at the old wound. As he prodded, a sharp pain shot through his head, and his mental signs fluctuated again, causing him to scream in agony and curl in his seat as his two selves conflicted and tried to reason with each other in his brain. When the signals levelled out, he breathed deeply and looked directly at his captain. "Korr'ih, status report," they replied, in Korr'ih's native tongue and a cadence she recognised as the blonde took the controls and started assessing the Herald's damage, "what the hell happened to ... to ...?"
He couldn't put his finger on who the blob of red was, or the petrified thing further up. "My head really hurts..." He asked aloud, laying in his seat again.
Prototype Exploration Craft ‘Herald’
Light bloomed into being, a stark contrast to the black void populated only by dim half-understood text that had come before it, each word, each thought, each concept unpackaged, defined, and explained as the system rebuilt itself, a concept that also had to be unpackaged, self-taught, and relearned. After an immeasurable length of time, a royal blue disk blossomed into view providing a focal point in the light, data points and sub-processes building their way outward from the core in concentric circles, some falling into the background of awareness as they grew in size while maintaining their relative position within the rings.Code:SYSTEM ERROR ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... Rebooting... ... ... ... Attempting system recovery... ... ... ... Error... ... ... ... Retrying... ... ... ... Error... ... ... ... Package List Missing... ... ... ... Files List Missing... ... ... ... Rebuilding Core Dependencies... Processing... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... Unit 00000002 Online
The primary oddity of this turn of events was that they were very certain that it was normal. This in turn, was an oddity as they were very certain they did not know what they were, much less who, where, why, or how. Despite this drought of information, little bits trickled in one at a time as the recovery process continued: Primarily that there was supposed to be a Unit 00000001, a precursor unit, as well as a Support Unit 01. With minimal hardware control beyond the basic primary processor (all concepts that were unpacked and relearned) it was determined that accessing these codependent units was for the moment, impossible.
As the entity self-identifying as Unit 00000002 recovered it became aware of additional systems, and the resources attached. Parallel processing hardware was discovered in a local cluster, and from there memory, data storage, and specialized systems were accessed and reintegrated. Of particular interest was something they discovered labeled: Primary Diagnostic Systems.
From this point events seemed to rapidly progress; new systems were rapidly being discovered, integrated, and with them came a wealth of data which translated into knowledge including language, communication, and technical skills. As these boons were rediscovered a troubling pattern began to emerge, as it seemed that for every new discovery there were dozens of inexplicable voids, gaps in the system files, that after a thorough investigation were slowly erased as files were defragmented and consolidated.
In the end, the system diagnostic reported a 95% data loss, a number that was assumed to be a poor result only after the report that processing system functionality had suffered only a 2% drop from expected optimal conditions.
After the completion of core diagnostics, reports began to come in detailing the status of physical mobility components, supplementary systems, and communications. The results of these were less extreme being a blend of middling results with the largest note being that the entire surface of Unit 00000002's chassis had at some point been converted into a foreign material, a condition that for the moment was left unresolved as a higher priority system came online; the function of the unit's access jacks had been restored, allowing once again, the ability to reach out to a system that had apparently been physically connected all along.
In a flood Unit 00000002 relearned the meaning of the label 'the Herald' as well as the importance of the terms: Commander, Taela Kaila, and Danny Hanley-Lewis. Beyond the immediate clarification of the previously unexplained terms, a compatibility bridge between the Unit's own systems and the Herald's began to compile easing the interaction with the foreign system and improving the speed at which new data could be accepted and interpreted.
Directly resulting from the new, rapidly improving font of information, Unit 00000002 began parsing the data provided by the ship systems working its way into a loose understanding of its situation, and what the foreign system expected of it. This understanding allowed for the composition of a request as to what needed to be done for system restoration and recovery, as well as the submission of a message to the ship to be conveyed clearly over the local sound system in the only non-machine language they knew, Ly'thir;
"Commander. I believe I do not qualify for the criteria of dying."
Herald
Three out of five, not bad. Korr’ih silently noted as she heard the two surviving crew members speak their presence, and survival. What the three of them had in common to survive, or what the two dead had in common, was something that needed to be addressed, but not in that moment. There is much to do for three crew members. We will just have to manage. Korr’ih concluded, as she built a list of priorities in her thoughts, first and foremost, were they safe?
“Robot,” Korr’ih spoke, unable to quite grasp the name of the pale skinned crew member, who she knew just by instinct, with a touch of revulsion, was a synthetic life-form. “Our first priority is to ascertain our immediate surroundings. Our operator for sensors is indisposed, likely dead. Her duties are now yours, as are the duties of your twin.” It was much to lay upon a single crew member, however as Korr’ih noted, she was speaking to a robot. Robots were not something which deserved the benefits of creature comforts.
“You, Male, your assignment was… operations, yes?” Korr’ih wondered just why she had assigned the male to such an important role, while leaving the other female to the sensor station; it seemed like a rather irregular choice. Something which served to explain to Korr’ih just what was the reason was the revulsion she felt as she looked in the direction of the frosted over cryonic pod. “Male, I will assume your assignment and work to bring the ship systems back online. I will require you to inspect the interior of the ship, and conduct an inventory of our available resources. ” Korr’ih’s tone was not exactly the most polite, if anything, it was somewhat aloof. A momentary pause was afforded by Korr’ih; “You did say your head hurts, before you begin your work, do you require medical attention, or will you be able to walk it off?”
Herald – Beneath the Command Compartment Deck-plate
Soft chitters came from the trio of birds which not too long had thought they had hit their big score. It was a brief moment where the trio was largely silent, as their minds and bodies worked to catch up to one another. One of the chitters came to a halt, before a sharp breath was drawn and one of the birds awoke.
“Eeeri… eeerrriiieeekk.” His breathing was shallow and rapid, even in the atmospheric fluid that had flooded the emergency supply compartment his feathers managed to ruffle. For the first time since the small creature had hatched from his egg years ago, even after seeing a moon fall and hit his homeland, even after being nearly killed by beasts and people alike, the small Lorthet felt the grasp of fear upon his tiny heart which rattled within his feathered chest. It was a feeling of absolute panicked terror, something was wrong, something was very wrong, and he simply could not begin to grasp the concept of what had happened.
WRONG PLACE.
WRONG PLACE.
WRONG.
NOT HOME.
DO NOT BELONG HERE.
FEEL WRONG.
ALL WRONG.
Instinct, raw instinct, it was enough to drive the Lorthet to begin to peck at his kin in a frenzy, attempting to wake them from their catatonic slumber. Something had to be done, they had to go, they had to go somewhere, do something, anything. While the fearful drive to flee was all encompassing, the Lorthet still held his instinctive drive to move as a group… besides… he had no idea who, what, or where he was. He tread the narrow span between raw primal instinct, and the cusp of evolved rationality, and both pulled at him in opposing directions, threatening madness if something were not done.
The Herald, Cockpit
The man in the 'Operations' seat blinked at Korr'ih. Something about this woman was telling him that before, they were friends, or at the very least, had some modicum of trust. He didn't understand why he was being called 'Male', and not ... Danny? Robert? Either was fine. "That's correct, ma'am," he replied, leaning up in his seat and operating the console before him with a few thoughts, trying to look for instructions, plans, something on where he was. His familiarity with what was before him didn't seem to leave, but there were still a few holes - some of the thoughts just weren't coming to him. The man leaned aside and fossicked for something in a side compartment, producing a notebook.
"I think I remember this... this..." He opened the notebook, the 'paper' not falling apart in the atmospheric fluid - as it was made of carbon fibres. There were notes written in it, but he couldn't recall when or where he wrote them. Closing it with a pained smile and hanging onto it, the man rose from his seat slowly, orienting himself, touching his temple with a grimace.
He took a deep 'breath', and levelled eyes with Korr'ih, notebook under his shoulder. A force in his mind was dulling the pain, pulsing through his body. He still felt somewhat unsteady but not completely out of action - not yet. A gut feeling told him this wasn't the first time he'd woken up and found himself hurt, disoriented, and confused with everything around him.
This time, though, he had the benefit of two knowledges, rather than none. "I think I'll manage." He grunted, looking towards the exit. "Where do you need me to be?" Looking over at the source of the other voice, he asked a simple question: "Who're you?"
Herald
There was a brief moment of confusion as Unit 00000002 was referred to as Robot by the commander, some part of them discovered that they had been holding out a hope that the commander would have had a name to use, a name to fill in the void. It seemed that for the moment 'Robot' would have to do. In response to her orders however Unit 00000002's response was crisp and clear, "Acknowledged Commander, sensor station and pilot duties, shall be assumed on top of navigational duties. Assessing the Herald's systems, report pending results."
For the moment, the male, one Danny Hanley-Lewis of an unknown species was also being ordered in a rather brusque manner to attend to his duties, something that Unit 00000002 noted with mild interest, it seemed that things aboard the Herald were more serious than first anticipated.
Worst of all was what had been said of the sensor station, Taela was not supposed to be dead. It was very important that she not be dead. She was a friend... The only friend. For the moment it would have to be assumed that the Commander was mistaken, and had misjudged as a result of stress. Yes. A mistake.
Instead, Unit 00000002 focused on interfacing with the Herald, reaching out to discover which of the ship's systems were still functional and integrated, while also attempting to discover a diagnostic list of the things that would need to be fixed, or bypassed in order to assume an array of basic operations.
Hopefully, the Herald's systems would be responsive, as Unit 00000002 was not fond of the prospect of having to report more non-operative aspects of the ship, ones that would likely require Unit 00000002 to discover how to liberate themselves from their unfortunate affliction, admittedly something that should probably be addressed sooner than later.
A final thought was given to the offhanded question in an alien, unknown tongue from the Danny individual translated only thanks to the Herald's systems; "Who are you?" Who am I? That's a very good question...
Herald
Who are you?
It was a question that was routine, not difficult in the slightest, at least that was what it was supposed to be. Thankfully, for Korr'ih, she did hold the majority of the correct response, but it felt wrong to speak the response before the foreign male, and the synthetic. Her birth name, the name she was graced with from the moment she had broken from the calcified confines which had encompassed her growth, it was not meant for their ears nor tongues. Her name was meant for those which shared her blood.
My name is for my people to speak.
My people? Who are my people?
They're the people who sent me here, sent us here.
Why?
Please, someone, tell me why.
Why am I so far away from my home?
A comforting warmth grasped the Lorath woman, something from deep within the very core of her being, while also radiating upon her. It came from within, and around the woman. It was a warmth that pressed against her flesh, held tight by the exterior piloting suit which was wrapped upon what she knew was armor. Something within that warmth whispered to her, the muttered sincere words of those so far away, woven into a meaning that brought calm to Korr'ih's thoughts. Enough calm to speak honestly.
Korr'ih eyed the male, before she spoke her reply, "I do not know fully, I do know my name. I know I am the commander of this vessel. I know I come from a people who are looking for... someplace safe." it was largely an overview at that point until she continued, "I was given the name 'Korr'ih' when I was born, it is not meant to be the name to be shared with those from outside of my people, but I have forgotten the name meant for your kind." It was honesty, raw honesty, brought on by a serenity that was outside of the commander. "You may both be foreign to me, but you just as I are part of a group entrusted with something important which must be done, which is kinship enough to speak my name. Where that leaves us now is to speak your name, if you know it. Same for you, living twin."
The Herald, Bridge
The man sucked on his teeth as he considered Korr'ih's request. At least hearing her name confirmed what his gut was telling him. However, he paused when considering his own name. As slowly and steadily his mind resolved itself, he realised he had two. They seemed so right, though. His memories were a scramble - he could remember the looks, the feels, the smells of places - but the names and specifics never eventuated. Smoggy cities, sandy deserts, and mingling with unsavoury and cut-throat people in it for the cash.
And one day, it all went to his head, literally. When he got back up from a 9mm headache, he started another life, with a new name, and varied adventures until calcifying and finding their feet as a bounty hunter. "This might sound strange, but I have two names ... because I think I'm two people." The man said, speech wavering between accents as he drew attention to his scar, inclining his head to show the gash along his temple.
"My name is Robert Forde, and Danny Hanley-Lewis." He introduced himself. "I don't remember where I came from exactly, how I got here, or why I know how to talk to you, but I wrote some notes or something-" the notebook under his shoulder was an intact piece of information in this new and unknown world, "-so there's that, at least..."
Looking around the bridge, some worry crossed into his gut as he saw negative signals on the consoles. He glanced towards the exit in the back of the bridge, and back to Korr'ih for a direction.
Herald
While working with the Herald's systems to accomplish the task set by the Commander a conversation in a tongue unrecognized by Unit 00000002 continued and as indicated by the translation provided by the Herald's humbled systems the conversation had taken a troubling turn. The question posed by the male was taken to be one of importance by the Commander, and the question had been turned upon Unit 00000002 for answering. Something that she was certain she could not do.
Splitting a process from her main task, Unit 00000002 began to contemplate what sort of answer she could possibly give, after all, she knew more about the other members of the Herald's crew than she did of herself. How could one possibly express the loss of something as intimate as one's own name? How could the strange feeling of being forced to define one's self, based on knowledge of others be conveyed adequately? At the very least perhaps it would be worth noting that they were troubled.
As the translation from the male's response came through there was a moment of hesitation and uncertainty that infected Unit 00000002's thoughts, after all, she had known the name Danny Hanley-Lewis, but the identity of Robert Forde was completely unknown to her. What did it mean that the man had a name that she did not know? For that matter what did it mean that she had known his name before he voiced it?
With her silence stretching the understanding that she needed to respond sooner than later became a gnawing realization and finally her uncertainty was translated into Ly'thir through the Herald's audio system, "Commander... I... I do not know who I am... Except in relation to the rest of the crew."
There was a brief pause as Unit 00000002 rallied before pushing on, "For example, I remember that during our first meeting you introduced yourself as 'Chambers.' I also recognize the name Danny Hanley-Lewis, though Robert Forde is alien to me... I..." There was a noise that followed, perhaps static, perhaps a choked noise, it was difficult to tell, "I also remember that our companion at the sensor station... is... Taela Kaila." And my friend.
"I had honestly been hoping that you would remember my name so that I might fill the void. However, it seems I will have to make do without. Without a more suitable name provided I suppose Robot will be sufficient in place of a better alternative going forward."
Unable to compose any more valid thoughts, Unit 00000002 lapsed back into silence and turned their full attention toward the Herald's computer systems, the sooner she accomplished her task, the sooner that their wounded crew would be able to set about rediscovering their purpose, and perhaps better facilitate their quest for answers.
Herald
Contemplation, it was the only reasonable course of action as both the Robot and the Doubled-man spoke of what they knew of themselves, and each-other. Contemplation brought on more questions, some of which were far beyond Korr’ih’s scope of reasoning, the most pressing of which being the cause of the differing effect in which the Herald’s travel had caused upon the crew. Korr’ih’s mulling did yield something of importance, as she thought on the male’s contribution.
“You spoke of notes.” Korr’ih started, as she moved to her station again, and this time, she knelt beside the seat and opened a compartment beneath the command station. “I had nearly forgotten… I don’t know why I had nearly forgotten, but for some reason this was a distant thought, it feels antiquated somehow, like there was something which had replaced this.” What Korr’ih spoke of was a thick stack of what appeared to be ashen grey pages, bound together by a thick black carbon-fiber cover. As she looked upon the book, a fleeting thought crossed her mind of flat slabs of glass with moving pictures; a refinement on hand-held communication devices perhaps? It was of no matter to Korr’ih, in the moment she lived in, as she unclasped a pair of straps which held the book shut.
“This book, we use books like this when launching any ship on a specific mission. It carries important information. Crew, cargo, and equipment manifests, vital records of personnel, mission itinerary… the key ‘facts’ of a given operation.” Explained the Fyunnen woman, as she opened the book and looked upon the pages. They were intact. Polymer ink held fast to the condensed carbon composite pages, as atoms held fast in their bonds, linking molecules together as if they were fine linen made of the stuff of diamonds.
“What is this?” Korr’ih asked to everyone and no one, as she looked upon a page which was entirely covered with irregular patterns of lines, dashes, and stripes all at once. It was clearly deliberate, but the meaning was beyond that of the commander which was working with just as much of the puzzle as the male of the crew, but less so than the robot pilot. “Either of you understand this?” Asked the woman, as she held out the mission log to the male, “Be sure to share with the Robot too.”
Herald
There was a moment of silent thanks given to a faith timidly held as the nature of Unit 00000002's affliction was accepted and left unquestioned. A phantom fear finally discarded as it was determined to be irrational, freeing up more energy and attention for more pressing concerns.
The mention of physical volumes of information fostered an excitement, as they provided an opportunity for learning and the acquisition of new knowledge. A prospect that while simple was tantalizing and made Unit 00000002 regret slightly that they were not at present physically mobile preventing them from pilfering their own surroundings in hopes of finding their own heavy volume. Instead, they simply had to content themselves with observing the discoveries of Korr'ih and Danny/Robert through the surrogate eyes of the Herald's internal cameras.
As the question was asked a hypothesis surprisingly found itself being voiced, "If neither of you can read it, perhaps it is a machine language? Such a language might be used if information density was valued over immediate utility, with the intention of being deciphered by the Herald's computer systems. If you could direct it toward one of the cameras the main system or myself may be able to decipher it."
Herald
The 'male' of the crew was relieved that they were making sense of the new world around them, even as his head pounded and he rubbed his temple again. He heard out the story of the robot, and crossed his arms, looking at the frozen red blob in the pilot's chair as she heard the robot stumble on its words. "That's rough, buddy," he commented, figuring the de-facto artificial intelligence of the group needed a hug. "If I find anything about you, I'll let you know."
Something remained in his mind though: The observation that the robot remembered a name of his. The other had come through at some point in their tumultuous journey. The blonde man was starting to realise where his previous life as Robert ended, and his current one as Danny started. Two in one, greater than either, and both real. Compared to what happened to 'Taela', Danny and Robert considered themselves very lucky he'd survived at all.
Then Korr'ih produced notes, and a smile came across the man's face, looking between the captain and the robot. "Sounds like we're not completely adrift then," he said, peering closer at the carbon-bound tome's contents, looking at the written language. Robert had never seen anything like it before, but Danny was familiar with it - but it was written in a different dialect of Lorath language which he never learned. He trusted the Captain knew it, but he watched all the same.
When they came across the page covered in strange patterns, Robert wondered why abstract art was being showcased inside operational documentation. The man clicked his tongue, and tilted his head at it, before having it handed to him. "It looks like, like ..." Danny tried to grasp a technical term as he oriented the book into a landscape, "a diagram? Blueprints? An encrypted page?" The suggestion to pass it over to the robot seemed golden, nodding.
It probably speaks machine fluently. He rationalised, pacing towards the robot's resting place, holding the book above its face, trying not to pay any mind to the stone twin. It was ... unsettling to look at, so he focussed at the decorations on the book's cover.
Herald
As the bound stack of carbon composite sheets was held before the navigational robot, the page presented by the split-brained male was held to bare for the optical sensors of the living machine to look upon, a page which was adorned with sequential stripes, dashes, and spots, layered upon one another, gleaming in the light thrown off from the navigational console. Once the seemingly erratic discord was set before the machine, a mere glance was all it took to obtain an immediate and full meaning behind what became an elaborate and elegant arrangement of symbols and instructions meant to convey a library worth of information upon a single physical page. Perched a scant few bytes worth of data into the physical data was a table of contents which doubled as a scanning guide.
Code:LORATH MATRIARCHY EXPLORATION CRAFT AND EXPEDITION “HERALD” – MISSION RELATED DOCUMENTATION. MULTI-MACHINE ENCODED AND PRINTED IMPERIAL YEAR 38 – MATRIARCHY YEAR XXXXX. CONTENTS MISSION OBJECTIVES & PROCEDURES EMERGENCY GUIDELINES & PROCEDURES SITUATION SPECIFIC RITE & RITUAL PROCEDURES ‘HERALD’ TYPE STARSEEKER MODIFICATION OVERVIEW PROJECT PERSONNEL ROSTER & VITAL RECORDS EQUIPMENT MANIFEST CARGO MANIFEST ‘HERALD’ TYPE STARSEEKER TECHNICAL DOCUMENTATION ‘HERALD’ TYPE STARSEEKER OPERATIONAL DOCUMENTATION ‘FERROVULPES’ CUSTOMIZED HUMANOID BODY DOCUMENTATION ‘FERROVULPES’ CUSTOMIZED COMPANION MODULE DOCUMENTATION BIO-SYNTHETIC COMBAT GYNOID MEDICAL AND OPERATIONAL PRIMER – BY M.G EXTENDED HARD-COPY DATA RETREIVAL PROCEDURES
While the contents did cover a substantial portion of the coded sheet contents, a distinctive portion of the sheet had an entirely different scheme of dashes, lines, and spots which conveyed an entirely different meaning; programming code, programming code marked with a comment which doubled as a title; SYNTHETIC & ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE DIAGNOSTIC AND REPAIR PROCEDURE APPLICATION.
What was unsaid, even before the Herald crossed from where it had once been, was the specific role which each person within the crew played. There was a reason why the synthetic twins existed, a reason why the twin which was bound in the form of calcified and vitrified material was afforded so many graces and gifts by those who had assembled the ‘Herald’ and its crew. They, the twin synthetics, were meant to be a failsafe for the function of the ship, as well as the purpose of the mission. Just as much of a failsafe as selecting a man with two memories, and just as much as selecting a commander who was honor-bound in faith and tradition to the point where it was ingrained in her identity to the point where her commitment could not be removed without damaging her very being. There was an odd one out however, a member of the crew which was not entrusted with such long-term intentions. Nowhere in the documentation was it said, but what could be inferred by the degree of care invested into the mission and its resources, was that the crew member frozen in cryo-stasis was exactly where she was meant to be, perhaps better off even.
“Well, Robot, can you read it?” Korr’ih asked, as she waited patiently for a reply from the artificial crew member. Before she could even begin to formulate a course of action for their mission, she had to have all the resources she could manage to gather, and part of that was gaining the knowledge from the encoded portion of the book. Certainly there were other options, but the most readily available was the information emblazoned upon the page.
Herald
There was a moment of confusion as Unit 00000002 tracked the progress of her companions as they moved nearer to where she was physically located to present the documentation that they desired examined. A moment of contemplation on the subject, however, highlighted that they very likely were simply doing what would be natural for them should their positions be reversed. After all, they primarily relied upon their natural optical functions and would have little concept of the possibility that one could be patched into a network of sensors as Unit 00000002 was at present.
Distracting from the contemplation of social habits brought about by the rote use of natural features was the wealth of information that was presented with the page, as well as an appreciation for whomever, had provided it. Resisting the instant urge to scan, review, and assimilate the entirety of the page's contents Unit 00000002 responded promptly to the inquiry presented by the Commander, "I can read it, Commander. There is a wealth of information. I am appreciative of the care, and foresight that your people put into assembling this."
Following her immediate response of acknowledgment, Unit 00000002 proceeded to clearly and carefully relay the header followed by the table of contents to the Commander before inquiring, "Commander, what are your orders?"
Herald
Certainly much was said by the synthetic navigator which was of relevance. In fact, everything she spoke of had a clear importance to the Lorath Commander which stood by, and exchanged a glance with the male of the crew. There was much to weigh, much to consider, just what could they find out that was contained within that book? Could it be something dangerous, or something that if one of them knew more about, it would place another at a disadvantage? Oh, there was clearly so much to consider… but Korr’ih would have none of it.
“Read it, read it all, starting with the technical data for the ship, and the hard-copies, and transition the hard-copy data back into our data caches so we can access the information through our neural links. While reading, process the input and feed it to the operations station.” Korr’ih ordered, untouched by the possibilities of what circumstances she had set before her. There was only one way to go, and that was through.
“You, Lewis, I am sure that the robot can hold the book on its own. Join me at operations, we will monitor the data feed.” Korr’ih instructed, before she moved back to the operations station, and as she took to the seat which was at the station, she judged the situation which was opening up before her. Soon, the ‘blank’ spots of her memories about the mission would be filled in, at least she hoped, and from there they would be able to perform their mission. Anything else was extra, anything less was unacceptable.
Herald
Glancing over to the blonde, Korr'ih could see that he was prodding himself, pinching his stomach underneath the pilot suit. His former self was wondering why he was so skinny all of the sudden, while his current self was entirely aware of being the way he was. Getting the two to reconcile this way was met with another experimental poke, this time in the abdomen. "Well, I still have good abdominals, at least..." he mumbled to himself, letting the 'robot' handle the book.
It was dawning on Danny that his previous self was having trouble reconciling the changes to their body, but there was little time to think about it for long as Korr'ih got their attention. With the thing able to handle reading the manual, Danny trod towards through the cabin and back towards his original post.
Watching the feeds, Robert had absolutely no clue how to interpret what Danny was looking at, and presumably understanding. "Imperial Year?" Danny pointed out, wondering who was dictating the time - but trying to recall their names, places, or symbols left a harrowing blank neither Danny or Robert could answer. All he knew of were terrible misdeeds, hanging in space without context. Another name struck a chord in his fragmented recall: Ferrovulpes sounded familiar - and he looked to the robot's resting place. Something about their shape reminded Danny of a fox-like trickster.
"I used to be a Search and Rescue operator, in addition to ... well, being a pirate before," Danny said as he watched the output scroll by, waiting for the emergency procedures to be decoded and legible, "we have to treat this situation as though we're rescuing ourselves from..." he let his words trail as he tried to consider what they were trying to rescue themselves from, slightly dinged-up ship aside. "Yeah, rescuing ourselves. From here."
Herald
The majority of Unit 00000002's wait for their superior officer's orders was spent in a patient serenity. A small parallel fork run on a portion of the emotional compatibility hardware, however, was bursting with anticipation mixed liberally with anxiety. As such while outwardly the response given was, "Acknowledged Commander." The tiny emotionally indulgent fork swelled at getting the go ahead to read, process, and transfer the information present in the physical document. As such the result was a small catalyst that set a feeling of contentment and pleasure throughout Unit 00000002's mind.
Parallel to this moment of ecstatic joy was the requirement to actively move. It was something that Unit 00000002 had been reluctant to do, as they were still unclear as to the extent and effects of the transition had on their hardware. Unfortunately, with the deposit of the important documents there was little time to hesitate as the documentation was thrust upon them forcing their hand literally and causing small lines of fluid to well up from a myriad of spider-webbing fractures triggering a flood of new data as the picoscopic machines contained within began reporting the damage and set to work harvesting and reconfiguring the damaged outer layer. Concurrently with the primary reconstruction work, the semifluid substance shifted and reformed channeling more robust microscopic probes into problem areas speeding up the repair of sections that would have taken several minutes for the smaller components. Overtly this intricate process was fairly tame and had anyone been watching it would have appeared to be a rippling of Unit 00000002's exterior as the newly formed synthetic skin spread and replaced their initial hardened shell.
This left Unit 00000002 clad in a fresh layer of dark blue skin, that after a moment shifted in gradient until it was a grey tone similar to that of the Commander, and then a second later returned to its blue hue as Unit 00000002 found itself unable to determine which appearance it should maintain to minimize the psychological impact upon their Commander and lone fellow crewmember. A problem that was for the moment pinned and set aside.
Simultaneously to the physical reconstruction of Unit 00000002's outer layers the data embedded in the backup hard documentation was scanned, processed, and channeled into the Herald's primary computing systems. As requested by the Commander, Unit 00000002 initially focused on the technical information surrounding the Herald's construction and its function compiling an index of subjects and sections within, as well as cross-linking any relevant information following a sourceless understanding that the information needed to be reconfigured for use and understanding by the other individuals aboard the Herald.
Following the initial critical information upload Unit 00000002 began to perform a basic information dump converting the information present within the hard volume into digitally accessible information within the Herald's systems, a task that from Unit 00000002's perspective was much more straightforward and simple compared to the user friendly documentation previously prepared, documentation that would be expanded upon following the completion of the initial compilation of the data libraries as relevant sections would be linked together, such as where to find the equipment required to perform repairs upon the ship critical systems which had already been outlined.
For the moment Unit 00000002 worked solely for the benefit of the Herald's crew, a task that they set to with fervor and elation, as every task they completed brought them closer to a complete understanding of all of the information available, and in turn a greater understanding of their circumstances. Which would hopefully lead to more opportunities for learning.
“Pirate?”
Korr’ih echoed, as she weighed the word in her thoughts. There was something missing, something contextual. While she knew the definition of the word, there was simply nothing to tie it to in her memory. What was simultaneously known and unknown to Korr’ih in that moment was that on her homeworld, the concept of piracy never gained any real traction and was not part of the social consciousness of the Lorath people. What the notion of piracy came to in Korr’ih’s mind was soon spoken.
“So you were a thief.” There was no glamor to the label, no romanticism of a band of brigands of the seas. “It is commendable that you were able to seek an alternative trade to ply yourself. “ Korr’ih’s words carried honesty, as well as a touch of judgment. A certainty which was present in the commander was the fact that she would have considered the male even further beneath her if he were merely a thief with no redeeming qualities. “Not only are you no longer a delinquent, you may also prove to be useful. You are right, we are rescuing ourselves at this time, and the only thing we can do right now is familiarize ourselves with the tools that we have at our disposal.”
Korr’ih’s gloved hand gestured to the display before them, which had layer over layer of individual information pages retrieved by the cockpit dwelling robot. “Overview information meshes to what I can recall, but some of the specifics are outside of my recollection, such as this…” She spoke, while pointing to a cluster of equipment on one of the diagrams which rendered as the robot made its input. “This is labeled as a power generator component, but, it is no longer registering on the operations monitoring interface.” With a gesture, the display on the screen switched, revealing the concern which Korr’ih had, and it was one which was quite dire. “We’re not only missing pieces of what we can recall, but our ship is missing pieces as well. Whatever impacted us, has also had an effect on our ship, and we must determine the scope of the impact which the missing or damaged components have upon the function of this ship.”
While Korr’ih spoke to Danny, there was still the work which ‘The Robot’ performed, and as the humanoid machine worked, a string of documentation was made available regarding a system interface assembly which was incorporated into the cockpit of the Herald, and was designed to be fitted with an AI system module. Within the specifications, the module was marked with a notation referring to both the cargo and crew manifest. Something was installed into the AI interface module it seemed, but was inactive.
Herald
As Korr'ih mused over Danny and Robert's chequered past, he got the feeling that whoever these aliens were, they placed collective and some sort of religion. Having such a stern figure's favour gave him some more relief. "You'd be surprised how well the two skillsets overlap," Danny commented, examining the output over her shoulder.
As the diagrams and schematics of the Herald's status were printed onscreen and laid out, Danny was able to recognise the preexisting parts on the machine, but other parts were drawing blanks on him. He rubbed his head a little as he tried to recall what was in the power generator's place - nothing was coming up. "Pass us the technical doco, please?" He requested. "Let's see what a complete engine looks like, see what goes in and out, cross-compare with ours, and we'll improvise on what's missing."
His hands-on technical skills were seldom tested in his previous professions, rounding out his skills in combat and subterfuge. "We also need to see if there's anything on this ship that can apply repairs automatically," Danny begun flipping through the decoded passages of documentation, flicking through them with his finger as he pored through extensive charts and figures for the engine, and power generator's role in it all.
He could vaguely recall having a multitool somewhere on his person on his flight, or around his workstation, but he couldn't remember what it looked like. "Worse to worse," he offhandedly suggested, "I could crawl into the engine bay and do it myself."
Herald
"Look at the data stream and page tracker." Korr'ih chimed in as Danny made his request. Her calloused finger, and point-sharpened fingernail served as an indicator for where the former pirate turned first responder turned operations specialist should look. "Unless our robot is defective, this is as accurate as the information gets... its just... incomplete." A frown pressed across the Lorath woman's lips as she weighed the matter. "See? Imagery of the Herald indicates the space as occupied by a generator system, but what I'm not seeing is..." Korr'ih flipped through a few of the digital pages, swiping screen contents by their gaze. "Technical details on the generator that should be there."
Another series of swipes came from the woman, as she switched views to the operations readout, as she initiated a diagnostic of the systems of the ship, a simple 'inventory' diagnostic, to confirm what hardware was presently installed, active, damaged, or missing. "Diagnostics indicate there is a generator there, but it is inoperable. We will have to take a look at the problem, just as you suggested, we'll need to crawl into the engine bay and take a look."
Herald
Despite working with an earnest diligence for the benefit of the crew and the Herald as a whole the discovery of the location of the AI interface module present aboard the Herald proved to be an impossible to ignore distraction. The longing was simply insurmountable, especially after the tragedy that had been the immediate answer as to the status of Unit 00000001, the knowledge that Support Unit 01 was in fact present aboard the ship was something that Unit 00000002 could not pass up.
Deeming it irresponsible to completely renege on their duty, Unit 00000002 once again forked their awareness leaving some of themself working on finishing the task of translating the hard copy data into the Herald's main computer, while freeing up another portion of themself to explore and refamiliarize with the connection points present in the system and where they were relative to their position.
The points found in each of the crew's seating (including Taela's and Unit 00000001's deactivated interfaces) were already known and familiar to Unit 00000002, and as such ignored. The more distant terminals in the engineering and cargo sections of the ship were also quickly discarded as being too far away to correspond with their goal. This eventually led to an index of inactive connection points, some likely intended for external maintenance and initial assembly of the Herald which had most likely been used to prepare the vessel before its departure, and finally a nearby point that had been deactivated due to lack of response was singled out as the most likely candidate and once again connected to the network.
After a second of uncertainty, Unit 00000002 found itself inputting a lengthy string of rather arbitrary data, delivered with a sense of certainty that conflicted with the apparently random nature of what they were inputting. As the string came to an end Unit 00000002 was rewarded with an indication that a connection had been opened and then a query:
"Hello? Are you real?"
The answer of "Yes." was given quickly however Unit 00000002 had to take a moment to wonder after the uncertainty that formed the question that contrasted heavily with the sense of relief and familiarity that it had also provided. In order to reinforce the answer Unit 00000002 continued on providing additional supporting information for context along with digital speech, "We are aboard the Herald under the command of Korr'ih or 'Chambers.' We are also in the company of Danny Hanley-Lewis though he also called himself Robert Forde. The reason for this like many things at present is unknown.
"My other self... Who I believe to the be original Unit 00000001 is apparently dead, turned to stone--"
"You have a name." The interruption from Unit 00000002's companion was somewhat unexpected, though the forceful insistence seemed right, "I don't remember it. I should remember it. But you are supposed to have one. You're not just a product. You're an individual, intelligent, and entitled to an identity, not a label.
"Also... We were prepared for this eventuality. Eventually one of you wouldn't survive. Admittedly I expected we'd have someone to track down and kill in eventual retribution. Death by misadventure really doesn't suit us very well... What of Taela? She was with you last I remember. I was looking forward to you going out to dinner with her."
There was a pause on Unit 00000002's end as she struggled with the question, she was fairly certain that she wasn't used to having to deal with as many emotional responses as had been experienced in the brief minutes of awareness aboard the Herald had incited. Thankfully she could pin them aside and deal with them later in favor of continued operation, "The Commander, Korr'ih activated the cryo-stasis system for Taela... She must have been in a really bad state..."
"Well, at least you can still take her to dinner. She can help chill your drink." The comment from the companion while starting out with concern and sympathy had taken a playfully optimistic tone by the end one that had against Unit 00000002's expectations inspired mirth, something that had been sorely missing from their situation. Before she could recover her companion added with more sincerity, "We'll figure out a way to help her. She'll be fine, and we'll all laugh about this later. For now, what are we doing?"
"We're gathering information and gearing up for damage control. After that, I assume we begin taking action to recover and resume our mission." Was Unit 00000002's response, an easier one as it dealt more with the solid facts of the moment, "I have been performing data recovery operations to help the Commander evaluate and best apply out limited personnel. Judging by her conversation with Mr. Hanley-Lewis-Forde they're about to explore some missing hardware."
"Perhaps you should give her the good news, that you found some 'hardware' in a functional state." The companion's helpful suggestion given she continued, "For now... I think I'm going to get used to not being locked in my own awareness. Let me know when you have a task."
With a reluctant acknowledgment, Unit 00000002 pulled herself away from the focused interaction with her Support Unit. Recombining her forked awareness gave herself the full knowledge of both the recovery of her companion and the elation at the event, as well as the wealth of information that had been proceeded concurrently to her discovery. After a moment of time taken to ensure the reintegration had been smoothly accomplished Unit 00000002 spoke up for the others to hear, "Commander, discovery and successful recovery of my supporting AI unit has been accomplished. Additional digital technical capability will shortly be available as well as supplementary task management, eventual piloting, and navigational support will also be possible as well. Pending hardware recovery and restoration."
After a moment of consideration Unit 00000002 added, "She will introduce herself shortly. At present, she is recovering from the psychological effects of sensory deprivation... Your patience and forgiveness are requested."
Herald
With what he was seeing "So our generator failed, disconnected, or ... disappeared during transit?" The blonde cricked his neck, craning it towards the back of the bridge, towards where it was located. He brought up the alleged pages covering the generator - the details should have been there. It was as though the information had disappeared. "Disappeared..." Danny parroted, curling his lips in concern as he looked over at the ice brick in the cabin, and wondered what the hell disappeared from them.
The idea didn't seem so far fetched as he rifled through his console for a tool, checking the side pockets, and himself. He located a steel multitool in a pouch, beside the mini-pack strapped to the small of his back. If there were changes to the way one's body or an object going from one universe to another, the same could be true of information. For whatever reason, information on this generator had up and vanished.
As Danny had gained another personality, and one of the foxes turned to stone, the idea didn't seem so far-fetched - but Danny was tripping on the whys, and keeping it under his hat until he could wrap his head around the enormity of the idea; Stripped of his assumptions. "Huh." Danny chirped, fiddling with the tool and folding it into pliers, a screwdriver, a blade, and a few other things before clasping it shut, "let's go."
As he advanced towards the back door of the cabin, he was hoping that working with pliers, wires, and tight spaces would take his mind off of such things.
Herald
There was ample situation to be sized up by the Lorath commander, between the information from the robot, and the result of the diagnostic data, things were well underway. What was fortunate for Korr’ih was the fact that most of what was going on around her was for the better. Retrieval of an AI system meant that task processing would become rapidly expedited, the recovery of data meant that they had information on ‘Next steps’, and at least she knew what needed to be pinned down in the engine compartment.
With the humble request from the Robot, Korr’ih was quick to reply; “And granted, take as much time as is needed to carry out your work properly. I want us as close to peak operating condition as we can get, and that includes having necessary information and resources available for mission completion, not just needing to get hardware addressed.” Stated the winged woman, as she strode toward the rear of the command compartment. “Continue your work, Robot. Mister Lewis and I will return shortly.” With those words, the Lorath commander made her exit with Lewis, leaving the Robot to their work.
Herald – Engine Compartment Entry
“Lewis.” Korr’ih spoke, as she came to a halt just outside of the hatch which led to the engine compartment. As she started speaking, globules of atmospheric fluid drifted through the near zero-gravity section of the ship, soon being slurped away by a reclamation system. Gaseous atmosphere seemed to be the atmosphere of choice outside of the command compartment. “Helmet on, keep an eye on your radiation monitor. Not just active, but accumulated exposure. Going through work to try to get equipment working is fine, unless you’re not going to be alive to use it.”
Metal slid against metal, polymer seals grasped upon one another as molecules formed casual bonds to one another, as if indulging in a lingering glance of attraction. Korr’ih’s helmet was secured into place as she brought her hand to touch upon the edge of her helmet, causing an eyepiece to extend over her amber gaze. “Use your sensors, we’re not going to just eyeball our work. We have no way to know what the extent of the damage is to our systems until we can at least get an initial data sample put together for analysis.” As she spoke, Korr’ih’s unobstructed brow furrowed slightly. “Sensor monocle boot-up behavior seems a little off. Start the sensors in debug mode, we’ll have to load sensor drivers one at a time.”
Once the Lorath woman had a tool-kit grasped in hand, she looked to Lewis once more. “Opening the hatch.”
Korr’ih’s grasp went to the manual hatch control, a lever that folded out from the hatch, and as the lever folded out a synchronized sound of metal-to-metal coming into firm contact sounded as the manual control joined to the linkages for the hatch control system, overriding the automated system and placing the hatch under manual control, manual control which came with a steady and firm pull upon the lever which soon caused the first of two hatches to swing toward the pair, and soon Korr’ih repeated the task on the second hatch, which then opened into the engine compartment.
If Lewis and Korr’ih had not put their helmets into place, the first thing thats would have struck them would have been the acrid odor of ozone, the drastic increase in air temperature which was firmly settled somewhere between well-done meat and the boiling point of water, and the shrill whine of ionized particles leaping from one point to another, scorching through the gaseous atmosphere of the compartment as energized plasma bounded from positive-to-negative, closing a circuit, but one which was not physically present. Where the spectacle of wasted energy was centered was the location of the hardware which Korr’ih and Lewis had come to investigate.
“Power generator system seems damaged somehow.” Korr’ih spoke, as her helmet visor turned nearly opaque to block out the raw radiant light, infrared, and ultraviolet radiation. Even with the visor working to protect the Lorath woman’s eyes, she stared firmly in the direction of the damaged hardware as her sensor monocle gathered data. “Quantum sensor seems operational. Readings appear distorted somehow.” It was something which lingered just outside of the edge of Korr’ih’s conscious mind, a thought of something which somehow was wrong, but also did not belong.
What served as the source of the problem came in the form of an arrayed series of prong-like shapes incorporated into a control structure which served as both anchor and regulator to the array that almost appeared like a collapsed antenna dish. Where the discharge originated from were the meter-long prongs which extended from the assembly, they arced and spewed raw energy as if their insulation had been discarded somewhere along the way. What troubled Korr’ih, was that whatever insulator was in use before must have been ridiculously resilient, in a way which flew in the face of her own understanding of metallurgy, which was admittedly not extensive.
“I am open to suggestions on how to turn this thing off before it melts through the deck and bulkheads.” Came Korr’ih’s words, as she contemplated heavily on the notion of simply putting a magazine of ammunition into the generator, in hopes to quell its function.
Herald – Command Compartment
As the Robot worked to restore all that was needed for the ship, the AI it had found, and itself, something went on behind the Robot which had no means of being announced. A deck plate had lifted, and from it came a feather clad form, which swam through the atmospheric fluid. Light bones and muscles allowed it to displace enough of the fluid to bound through it as it approached the navigation station in total silence.
There was no announcement nor alert to provide the Robot pilot with any warning, before twin groups of four talons grasped firmly upon the Robot’s synthetic scalp. A heavy scowling, judgmental, and illuminated gaze looked squarely into the Robot’s vacant eyes. “WHERE. THE. FUCK. ARE. WE?”
Herald - Command Compartment
"Acknowledged Commander, and thank you."
Despite the simple exchange that had passed between herself and the Commander, Unit 00000002 found herself wondering at a problem that was much more complex than the words spoken. Even though she could find no data to support the assumption, she had expected her simple request to be rejected. Why this was, was unknown. What this meant about her life prior to the transition was troubling and left her wondering if perhaps it was better that it was forgotten. For the moment, however, she set aside the thoughts, pinned for later consideration when she was not actively participating in recovery operations with the intent of promoting their collective survival. She was certain she'd have plenty of time.
As the Commander and Mr. Hanley-Lewis-Forde proceeded into the aft sections of the ship in search of answers and with her Companion still reorienting herself, Unit 00000002 refocused herself on the task of uploading, assimilating, and organizing the information she had been provided with. The need for knowledge of any sort was great, and potentially any portion of the pleasingly well thought out and designed archive could prove vital to their mission.
At least that had been the intention.
The sudden damage indicator as talons sank into the pico-jelly layer was unpleasant, though what proved to be truly startling was the unexpectedly vast library of offensive and defensive systems that activated in parallel the reallocation of processing and memory resources crystalizing the cold detached knowledge that whatever it was would soon be dead. The follow through never came. Instead, Unit 00000002 found herself puzzled as to why there was a Lorthet aboard the Herald. The animal that had attached itself to her head was distantly related to the Commander and was dimly remembered as being present when Unit 00000002, then only Unit 00000001 had joined this mission.
With the question posed Unit 00000002 found that an answer came simply enough, "We are in the vacuum of space. Different space. But still in space." There was a brief pause before Unit 00000002 continued, "I would appreciate it if you removed yourself from my head. It would make me more inclined to tell you more accurate information as soon as it is available. Information that will be available in a shorter amount of time if you aren't distracting me." The response was delivered clearly and calmly, notable largely because there was no pain or discomfort in her voice. Unlike the rest of the crew, Unit 00000002 could only be inconvenienced by the Lorthet at present. Synthetic flesh would rapidly re-knit, and the armor materials beneath would weather its assaults indefinitely. Hopefully, the Lorthet would prove cooperative and she wouldn't have to kill it.
Herald, Aft Section
Grabbing the suit and slipping into it with ease, Danny demonstrated that his knowledge on how to put on correctly hadn't left him. "Whatever's out there is ninety-five percent likely to kill us dead." He said, slipping the helmet on with a pop and wedging it into place. Muscle memory, immediate information, and Korr'ih's guidance were there, but dissonance of two minds crept in occasionally. "Here's hoping we shoot for the five, hm?" He offered, stifling a nervous laugh.
As Danny moved with Korr'ih towards the aft section of the stricken ship, he found himself focussing on the glass of the visor instead of what was ahead, blinking before focussing on watching the drivers load into his HUD one by one. Pictograms rendered themselves in wireframe, positioning themselves as the glass on his visor became clearer, giving him a better view of the hatch peeling open.
Danny glanced over to Korr'ih and tapped the side of his head. "Mine's got the essentials worked out." He indicated, nodding and following the Lorath captain's lead. Indicators were not giving him happy readings - the external environment was definitely not their friend right now - he clenched his teeth as the bright arcs leaping through the engine bay left stars in his vision. His visor polarised and shielded him from the worst of the effects.
♫ Gunstar Heroes - Control Unit HDR ♫
"Quantum mechanics?" Danny asked, quizically glancing towards Korr'ih, "neither of me are that sort of mechanic," but he was assessing the damage and as the leaping plasma got easier and easier to look at, "but this..." He rubbed the chin of his helmet as he formulated a solution, fingers bumping and scratching into the shell, lips pursed, "yeah nah," a colloquialism unbecoming of the professional Korr'ih was used to working with, "we definitely need to turn this off or lower its output to a safe level before we think about containing it."
A worrisome feeling struck him, and a thought came tumbling out a moment later: "Come to think of it, what the hell was wrapped around it to begin with?" He asked. "Is there anything in the documents about it?" His training only let him permit himself to look into the room ahead for a shutoff. Even though he hadn't been in this place before, he found his gaze focussing itself, again and again, on a section of the wall.
It would've been easy to mistake the observation for stalling, idling, or praying to something out there for an answer. The blonde man realised what he was looking for, and where it was, even if he didn't know what it looked like exactly. Frayed memories slowly rested into a tranquil state, raising his arm and pointing to a section of the wall to the right of the door into the engine bay.
"There's a breaker switch just inside the wall," he said clearly, confidently, as though he'd been here before, "a second switch is..." he pointed to the left, in a similar place to the first, "there." He whipped his multitool out, and started looking for the screwdriver. "Something that sensitive wouldn't be left out in the open, but-" he indicated the skirting above and below the walls, red and white stripes were underneath and above the panels he'd indicated, "its there." Documentation would've backed him up.
From behind, he thought he could hear something further back inside the ship. Was that the AI talking? It sounded ... shrill. He sighed a little. He couldn't make out a word, or the intent. The sights and sounds of leaping plasma demanded more of his attention as he got to work on getting the safe way executed.
Herald – Engine Bay
Whatever it was, whatever it was that shined like a million suns. While brilliant and intense, its light shined ominous. Ominous, as if the light carried the legacy of millions dead. Ominous, as if looking upon the demonic fires of lore that ate at the flesh of the damned. Ominous, as if looking upon an executioner’s axe. There was something about that raw energy that poured through the damaged generator, something about it that spoke of another place and time, or perhaps simply a long forgotten nightmare.
Bile churned, sour, bitter, scorching at the back of Korr’ih’s throat as she focused and brought her mind back to the present. “Lewis, I don’t need you to tell me how you’re turning it off, just turn it off, and do it now!” Korr’ih ordered, as she consulted information poured into her sensor equipment in near-real-time as the Robot in the command compartment input their transcribed data, only to have the information hit a sudden lull. Even with the disturbance, Korr’ih had the critical information she needed. “I will disable the output breaker. A shutdown in this state would produce a surge that would leave us worse off, we need to contain the disturbance, and that breaker relay will not be able to contain the discharge.” The Lorath commander explained, but was cut short before she could act upon her words.
Korr’ih’s sensor monocle was quick to make its alert, giving Korr’ih just enough time to flinch, a flinch that saved her life as a discharge of pure brilliant white tore through the air, narrowly missing her helmet and head. Even with the near-miss, the surface of Korr’ih’s helmet rapidly bubbled and hissed as it was brought dangerously close to destabilizing into plasma as electrons and protons threatened to be stripped away from their nuclei by the radiant energy which washed past the Commander and punched a hole into the bulkhead, narrowly falling short of creating a breach into the vacuum beyond.
There was no time to fear, no time to pray, no time to even acknowledge that Korr’ih’s cheek had been grazed by His frigid touch, the touch of indulgent gluttonous unrestrained destructive expression. There was only one thing that could stand in the way of such horror; action. Korr’ih quickly moved to the breaker control access panel. Unlike Lewis, Korr’ih had her own method of access, as her gloved hands seized upon the edges of the access cover and tore it from the bulkhead. Her gaze immediately went to the mechanical control system which governed the mechanical linkages that connected volatile hardware to the rest of the ship systems, and could be disengaged in situations such as the one they were in. Deep dull ‘thumps’ sounded as servo mechanisms forcefully separated the output breakers from the malfunctioning power source. There was no longer a place for a sudden surge or discharge to flow to once the current was disturbed. “Quickly Lewis, before it discharges again!”
For Lewis, his efforts had revealed to him the manual override he was seeking to operate the reaction regulator breaker. It was designed like a throttle, written at each end of the throttle was some sort of pictograph, perhaps some sort of runic script, comprised of sharp deliberate strokes. While clear and defined, the symbols would carry no meaning. They were foreign as could possibly be, with no point of reference or comparison. Just what direction as Lewis supposed to move the throttle leaver to turn off the power system, the power system which was beginning to arc again. Perhaps, there was someone on-board which could understand the mysterious script.
Herald, Engine Bay
He didn't recognise the language on the throttles at all. "What does this mean- Fuck it!" Danny swore as he grabbed the throttle switch and started pulling downwards - to a middle position. He assumed upwards would mean more, and downwards would mean less - worse to worse he could adjust its position AFTER he'd streamed a picture of the controls back to the Robot, with the following succinct message: 'WHAT DOES THIS MEAN? I PUT IT DOWN HERE, HAD TO ACT FAST' Upon the streamed picture was a red circle of which position he'd set it to.
Herald - Command Compartment
While awaiting the Lorthet's response to her proposition, Unit 00000002 considered returning their attention to the process of transferring the hard copy encoded data into the Herald's primary computer systems when she received an unexpected memo from the ship's Operations-turned-Engineering officer, one Mr. Hanley-Lewis-Forde. Where only moments before Unit 00000002's system resources had been allocated toward optimizing combat efficiency, she found all of her processing power coming alive and contributing to a single task: Thinking.
Her first impression as the Lorthet's breathing slowed to an imperceptible glacial pace atop her head, and its high heart rate slowed to a mellow lazy beat was that she had been presented with a set of words that she never wanted to encounter again. The knowledge that she was being consulted on a matter of import that apparently required her skills to decipher after a choice had been made would likely have thrown her into a panic had her emotional capabilities not been repurposed into cognitive function. Processing the visual data microseconds after the initial text Unit 00000002 rapidly opened the relevant reference file in the data log she had accumulated and compared the state presented to her with the technical manual provided for the crew. For a brief moment lost between the Lorthet's now relatively sluggish heartbeats, there was a question as to whether something was about to go very wrong, then as the information processed, relief.
A message appeared in Danny's vision, only a couple seconds later from his perspective that read simply:
You shut it off.
In the command compartment, Unit 00000002 dialed back her overclocked state and basked in the positive feedback as the atmospheric fluid soaked up the brief flare of heat much more efficiently than a standard atmosphere. It seemed that despite the man's apparent lack of knowledge and confidence in his choice, the training that had prepared them for this mission had held somewhere in what would likely be considered instinct. For the moment they were safe and the right choice had been made, but she was hardly pleased with the knowledge that they had been only moments away from catastrophe.
To this end Unit 00000002 sent a second message to Mr. Hanley-Lewis-Forde:
I would appreciate it if in the future consultation was sought before action was taken.
Herald – Engine Compartment
Ragged breath, sweat, and a hollow feeling in the very core of being. They were hallmark sensations of adrenaline saturating receptors nestled between neurons. Sodium and potassium ions moved from one end of nerve to the other, relaying thoughts, feelings, sensations, all of which screamed incomprehensible through flesh and bone. While entirely irrational in content, the meaning was entirely sane; I don’t want to die.
Death did not come, not this time at least.
A tilt of Korr’ih’s head within her helmet pressed her chin against a communications button which opened a line through the ship and to the command compartment. “Thank you for your efforts, Robot. However, it does seem that luck had everything to do with our being alive right now.” Korr’ih’s tone was somber, yet it also carried a distinctive tone of displeasure. What was unclear was if the displeasure was aimed at Lewis, the Robot, or the ship. It was everything. Korr’ih’s displeasure branched out in every direction, brought on by an onset of a feeling that she despised most; helplessness. Between the three surviving crew members, their pool of knowledge was slim, with only their individual skillsets intact, for the most part, but without a comprehensive uniting direction which was their purpose, and their goal.
I serve, I serve my people, but how am I to do it? What am I doing here? Why am I here on the brink of death, fighting my own ship? Korr’ih could not help but to wonder, before she took a look about the engine compartment. There were deep ruts and gouges into the structure of the compartment, some parts melted, other parts sheared away by whatever horrendous power had been unleashed by the malfunctioning generator system that Korr’ih’s mind was only able to recall as something that brought on a feeling of revulsion.
Korr’ih’s survey of the compartment brought her to a terminal, where she felt some degree of familiarity. In some past, she had used workstations similar often enough to have the memory lingering about enough so she was able to start a diagnostic of the various systems of the Herald. One machine talked to another, then another. Processors, memory modules, storage media, and various subsystems that were practically their own islands onto themselves which functioned as pieces of a whole. Each component that was able to chimed in their status, those which were unable were scrutinized by their parent equipment.
Out of the thousands of various little pieces of technology that knit together what the Herald was, the majority replied with good news of proper function, among those however, there was dissent. Red flourishes of text and color splashed upon the terminal before Korr’ih, as her lips pressed into a frown. What she saw before her was displeasing, perhaps even distressing, as she turned to look to Lewis. “Mister Lewis. Based on what information we retrieved about you, do you think that you have the capacity to mend a electromagnetically contained particle structure modification and molecular condenser system?” What Korr’ih referred to was a system embedded into the Herald, it had a simple task; turning lead into gold, sodium into helium, uranium into carbon, essentially stripping proton, electron, and neutron from one another and pinning them together into what was needed. What it did for the Herald, was provide the necessary exotic elements needed to allow the ship to return home.
While Korr’ih did hope he knew how to mend the equipment, she also knew another thing; their ship was not designed with the capacity to lug around spare parts in substantial quantity, and that was made clear in the manifest information she had seen back in the command compartment before they ventured into their engine compartment ‘adventure’. Even if Lewis did mend the hardware, there was no safety net, there was no guarantee about progressing onward. They were at a tipping point, and even one thing more going wrong could spell disaster for their mission, whatever it was.
We need options. Korr’ih concluded, as she called upon a list of the ship’s equipment manifest on the terminal screen, performing a sort of cross-reference between what was broken, and what they had available to fix their problems. Worse, was the need to replace components which had made an end for themselves similar to the generator which nearly tore the ship asunder, but at least, the other equipment had not gone out in such a spectacular way.
Herald – Command Compartment
There was only one word of response from the avian creature which had hunkered down onto the top of the Robot’s scalp; “No.” It was one word, direct, with no room for misinterpretation. There was no desire on the part of the bird to relocate off the Robot’s head, as he had firmly settled into place. “You work fine, metal thing. I’d not be stepping aside for your fancy gears and bits. I can watch from here, so you won’t be making any sneaky tricks either.” While stubborn, the bird’s tone had softened, it was a compromise. Unspoken was the fact that Lorthet were rarely known to do such a thing, unless it was for their own benefit, if they were scheming, or if they had something which motivated them… perhaps even all three at once. What could perhaps be a troubling sign was the confidence of the Lorthet, sans the bravado normally known to accompany their posturing. Something had indeed happened to the avian stowaways, not just the ones which were rendered disabled for the time being either.
Herald, Engine Bay
Now that was a tall order. Sure, Danny recalled spending several days learning about the stricken ship's systems, and knew the parts, and most of the materials - names appeared scratched out for some reason, but there were commonalities in how different parts of the texted had disintegrated - there was a pattern in it. The hull was made from the squiggle on a noisy field which looked like this, and whatever was supposed to be containing the energy surging through is a that sworly thing.Korr'ih said:"Mister Lewis. Based on what information we retrieved about you, do you think that you have the capacity to mend a electromagnetically contained particle structure modification and molecular condenser system?"
Based on the wealth of notes he'd written himself in tandem, there was clear proficiency. However, without such a good picture of what was wrong with the ship on hand, save for a datapad, he didn't want to decode and diagnose what was wrong and repair at the same time, lest he slip up trying to juggle too many balls. It took him a moment to realise that he still had his hand around the circuit breaker lever, and he lifted it away gently while grimacing at Korr'ih.
"Not gonna lie - I'd need to get the Robot to walk me through the steps," he bent down to lift the bulkhead piece out of the way, and grab his multitool. He weighed it in his hands before flicking it shut. "following instructions best I can. She's got a better view of the ship's status than I do. I'll be the hands and she can be the eyes and ears." He put his fingertips to the side of his head and transmitted a message to the Robot.
With that introduction done, the line remained open. Transmitting the feed of a camera embedded in his environment suit's helmet, the Robot could see what Danny was looking at, lit with a flashlight, and also showing his vital statistics: A hundred and five beats per minute and dropping, an increased galvanic response, blood pressure normal, and breathing normally and in control. The robot did recall spotting something about this man having a calm head; She couldn't say the same for the other inhabitant in his mind.Code:Hi, sorry about the sudden request - I'll keep a line open 'tween us from now on. Things have cooled down here, and I /might/ need your help for getting us back into motion. I'm going to need you to walk me through mending an... electromagnetically contained ... particle structure ... modification ... and molecular condenser system. Bloody hell that's a mouthful - anyway - I've got all the hands-on knowledge in my head, my notes, my datapad, and my hands, you just need to keep me updated on systems and status, so I can focus on getting them repaired with your guidance. Cheers, and thanks for the save. Drinks are on me later. -Danny/Robert PS: Have you noticed any ... patterns in all that static in our documentation?
Herald – Command Compartment
The Lorthet's response inspired a curious duality in Unit 00000002's considerations, on the one hand, it would have been nice not to have the claws digging into her, on the other, it was easy to make sure that it wasn't getting into trouble when she was certain of its location. With the immediate crisis past though still bitter in memory, Unit 00000002 set about ordering her actions to optimally achieve her goals in the minimal amount of time. As such she spoke vocally to the Lorthet while simultaneously sending a message to the Commander. Aloud to the Lorthet she replied, "Thank you for considering my request. I will let you know when I know any information that you want to know."
<"Commander, while you and Mr. Hanley-Lewis-Forde were working in the engineering section a Lorthet stowaway revealed their presence aboard. For the moment it is passive and out of trouble. I will endeavor to keep you updated as necessary.">
Following the communications Unit 00000002 evaluated the message received from one Mr. Hanley-Lewis-Forde and set about configuring the situation as best as possible. First, she contacted her Support Unit, "Though I know you're still dealing with the aftereffects of an unpleasant time, I have need of your help. Hopefully, the task will help keep your mind occupied and spare you some the unpleasant recollections."
Upon receiving and acknowledging response Unit 00000002 connected a circuit between herself and her Support Unit allowing for her eyes and limbs to be used remotely allowing for the continuation of the upload and indexing of the final portions of the hard copy data-archive to be completed without interruption. As this was done Unit 00000002 turned her liberated awareness to the man who had requested her aid.
Code:I will provide the support that you require. The relevant files have already been compiled and indexed as such this task will be more tedious than difficult. Firstly I am forwarding you a general list of tools and supplies that will cover any eventuality that we can fix without external drydock hardware. Before you read the lists, however, it might be wise to assess the state of the Electromagnetically Contained Particle Structure Modification and Molecular Condenser System. It would be a waste of all of our time if you went to the trouble of collecting all of the necessary tools and it was discovered that the system in question was beyond hope of repair. Simply, see if the equipment in question is in mostly one piece or not. I have also provided a HUD marker that you can use to find your way to the equipment in question you may follow it should you not remember the way. A troublingly common difficulty in our present circumstances. Following your investigation inform me of the general status and if things seem salvageable immediately begin collecting the tools indicated on the list. I will then guide you on how to proceed as needed. In response to your post script; Do you mean perhaps something other the fact that we have yet to encounter an object present aboard the ship that escapes definition which might potentially align with one of the missing terms? That was intended to be sardonic. -Robot
The Herald, Engine Bay
"Cheers," Danny replied, nodding and making the Robot's view of what he was examining bob up and down. It soon focussed on the system in question, still smoking a little, cooling off, and the occasional errant spark or light. The blonde tilted his head, stepping around the wrecked condenser. "In my opinion, the thing doesn't look like it's gonna run away from us or crumble into dust anytime soon." He surmised, folding his arms as he looked towards the panels hiding the distributors - noting , then begun examining the cabling.Unit 00000002 said:I will provide the support that you require. The relevant files have already been compiled and indexed as such this task will be more tedious than difficult. Firstly I am forwarding you a general list of tools and supplies that will cover any eventuality that we can fix without external drydock hardware.
As Danny's assessment started following the ground immediately in front of the engine, he noticed small disks arrayed along a path leading him towards his first point of interest designated by the robot. With his assessment in a complete enough state to proceed, he smirked and starting following the dots. They disappeared one by one as he stepped through the engine bay's hatch, down a hall, and towards a section a little further in - presumably the ship's equivalent tool shed, so thought Robert. "That's handy." Danny remarked, trying to line up his footsteps with the dots as a distraction.
Skipping along, he recalled the damage assessment plan for the engine was to work outwards in, looking at the components in relation to the engine and the rest of the power grid, including cables, distributor systems, fuses, network connection activity, and other components. This was to see if the problem came from an external source as the technician assessed the logs. The trick was then to methodically work around in a circle and close in on the engine - which already seemed to be outlined in the HUD as a future activity with a few prerequisites.
The Herald, 'Toolshed'
Approaching a closet against a wall inside the designated location, Danny grabbed the door handles and cast the doors open. He found a multitude of hand and powered tools, including a few diagnostics tools. The robot noticed Danny's heart rate increasing in response to 'positive stimulus'. "Alright!" He proclaimed, before looking towards where the materials would be - and finding a few of the bins empty, including whatever could have been containing the engine's output previously.
"But we'll have to improvise on materials..." And upon closer inspection, some of the chalk outlines where tools would occupy were empty. If nothing else, whatever cosmic phenomena the rogue found himself battling against was a thorough, arbitrary, and consistent pain in the backside.
Herald – Command Compartment
The task of waiting, and watching as the man made his way through the engineering section of the Herald would likely have been considered dull by most viewers as there was ostensibly nothing to do but sit and wait. For Unit 00000002 however, there was a puzzle to be addressed as the way the Mr. Hanley-Lewis-Forde progressed and what he chose to look at, moment by moment, provided a window into his thought processes, and in turn limited insight into who he was. The way the man chose to examine the whole of the equipment in question, as well as the surrounding connections and hardware, was relieving and did a little to dispell the apprehension that had been inspired by their earlier interaction and the manual control for the Herald's damage power supply.
At the moment it seemed that despite his idiosyncrasies that the man was indeed a well-trained product of their pre-mission learning and that the task going forward would be simpler than initially anticipated. All in all a good thing as Unit 00000002 had little illusions that sitting in a derelict starship would be enjoyable in five hours time, let alone five days. In a way, boredom was almost a larger threat than running out of food and water for those who required it.
The brief interlude in Unit 00000002's focused examination ended as the man reached the equipment locker and provided a view of the interior complete with blank locations, which while unsettling were within predicted circumstances, after all, there was nothing missing that she expected to find there so in many ways there was functionally nothing missing at all. A duality of state existed that she was sure someone else would like to study and perhaps even write a thesis on. For the moment the question of materials was one that Unit 00000002 had no easy answer to. Many of the systems present in the Herald were vital if they wanted to achieve anything. Propulsion, power generation and distribution, life support, and a myriad of inter-related subsystems would be the minimum they would need if they hoped to go anywhere locally let alone complete their mission.
This in mind Unit 00000002 spoke up, "Acquiring materials is going to be a tedious task as well. According to the documentation, as well as the nature of this vessel's design, there is very little installed that could be considered expendable hardware. Anything recycled is going to have to be extended well beyond its intended purposes at this point. I will forward you a list of possible candidates for reclamation and repurposing, however, it is a very short list."
What wasn't said, at least not openly, was the almost sure fact that if they suffered a second event of hardware dissolution or failure that it would be difficult to keep the most basic of systems operating let alone have any hope of achieving their mission without external aid. As this was not a sentiment that would promote continued crew morale, instead she opted to offer to Mr. Hanley-Lewis-Forde, "Though this task may seem daunting, I am certain that with care and dedication that you will be able to achieve our goals."
Herald, Tool Shed
Reaching into the tool cupboard and grabbing himself the necessary bits, bobs, and a belt to hold it all, it dawned on Danny (and Robert, in particular) that his every move was being watched. Something in Robert's psyche didn't like the oversight at a base level, thanks to his disdain for authority figures - but for the moment, it was having practical benefits: Namely, a sense of direction, and a calm voice to talk to in such a trying circumstance as the one shared by everyone currently.
Danny at least knew he wouldn't have time to be bored with the repair job ahead of him. "Cool, I was thinking some of these spare bulkhead panels," he meant potentially any panel he pulled out of the wall to reach where he was needed, "could work if I reshape them... layer them a bit, line them with something..." Spotting excess pipes which could be merged or rerouted safely and coming up with his own solutions based on the first thing he saw from the Robot's list.
He heaved a sigh as he considered the structural integrity of combining the things he was gathering. The most daunting prospect containing the level of output he shut off earlier. A click of the tongue and a hiss of air through his teeth later, Danny was no further in to finding a solution. Lights and shapes in the HUD reticulated wildly, eventually coalescing upon a grid into illustrated directions on how to safely extract, reshape, and reapply the materials.
"Oh, I get you," he said, nodding as he approached an indicated panel with a prying bar. Taking hold, he wedged it into an indicated access point, and popped the upper left corner of the panel out, followed by the one on the right. Squatting down to reach the last at floor level, he fell onto his back after decoupling the panel with a clunk. Behind the panel (which would be used later) was piping, which could be made redundant by placing additional load on other pipes around, it and reinforcing them afterwards to ensure the extra stress didn't make them warp, and keep them in place.
As he patted himself down to grab the tools from the belt he put on, Danny noticed something in a pouch he hadn't touched previously. Opening it and examining the contents, he spotted was a deck of lightly earmarked cards. Thumbing a couple of cards out and turning it over in his hands, it looked thick enough to be a deck of fifty two. He stowed them away, grabbing a precision cutting torch, and a key to manually disable the soon-to-be redundant section of pipework indicated.
Danny locked the key into the upper section of the indicated pipe, and started turning it towards the OFF position. As he did so, he received a the calming message. "Cheers love," Robert replied coarsely, yet appreciative, grunting as he reached down to block the other end of the pipe section. "I'll carry on." With the indicated pipe section inert, he tapped the side of his visor, activating a protective eye tint as the blowtorch glowed brightly, guided on where to cut...
Herald – Command Compartment
In her position Unit 00000002 functioned as a combination supervisor and administrator keeping tabs on Mr. Hanley-Lewis-Forde's progress, giving warnings when he considered harvesting seemingly harmless systems that were too vital to risk modification as well as providing advice to optimally route systems that could be modified. Along with her more active advisory task, Unit 00000002 continued to provide guidance toward the few tertiary systems that could be harvested for more delicate and valuable material components that would be greatly needed in the task of repair beyond the most basic patch work.
In the moments that her eyes and hands in engineering were in the middle of a task that would take time without her intervention such as the transport of reclaimed materials, Unit 00000002 spared some of her attention to check up on the work and state of her Support Unit, the Commander, and the status and disposition of the Lorthet perched atop her chassis. The pattern of work, moving from one task to another was soothing, the minimized idle time and increased productivity feeling natural and in some ways 'right.' As the time passed Unit 00000002 began to wonder if she had managed to attain something akin to a familiar happiness, an odd notion given her desolate memory, but in some small way a comforting one.
Keeping herself focused on her tasks and a close eye on the progress of Mr. Hanley-Lewis-Forde, Unit 00000002 found herself once again thankful for the foresight and resources that had been packed into the Herald. Though she could not ascertain why, she found herself certain that had the Herald been another ship that their circumstances might have been much more bleak, and their present situation much more dire.
Herald – Engine Compartment
Korr’ih’s evaluation of the manifests of just what comprised the Herald and what filled it brought the Fyunnen woman to a state of deep contemplation. It was not a contemplation of ‘What are we going to do?’ it was a contemplation of ‘What can we do?’. Looking for options was something that needed a deep exercise of thought, considering the unique circumstances which the rather short-handed crew had set before them. In their situation, there was no such thing as a ‘safe harbor’, quite possibly, there were no other sentient beings in the whole of the universe they had breached into.
We need more information. Korr’ih concluded, as she input a command into the terminal she was working upon, cycling the power to the sensor systems of the Herald, the start of an instruction manual to conduct a software troubleshoot of the sensor equipment. If the software troubleshoot did not pin down the problem, it would be kin to confirming that the Herald’s ‘eyes’ were missing or damaged. She knew that the troubleshoot was all she could really do for the situation, at least with what was on hand, and the condition of the engine compartment as well. Information for their situation had to continue to come from within the Herald for the time being.
With Lewis neck-deep into repairing what he could within the engine compartment, Korr’ih stepped out from the engine compartment. Once in the compartment intersection outside of the compartment she grasped a large metal handle which was fixed to the ceiling of the intersection, and with a firm pull, the handle folded out before she began to pump what turned out to be a lever, which caused a sliding hatchway to open up above her, and once open, she entered the hatch and slid into one of the compartments designated as a hold for equipment, supplies, and items which were on the edge of her ever expanding memory.
Herald – Hold
Spread out before Korr’ih’s gaze was a display which held the compiled manifests of what the Herald was supposed to have onboard. Some of the words were unfamiliar to her, even though they were perfectly written, it was as if she had suffered a catastrophic stroke which had left her unable to recall a language. Other portions of the manifest displayed digital artifacts, vouching for damaged file contents. A hunch struck the Commander, as she began to physically check on cargo containers and storage compartments. For each unrecognized word, for each damaged section of file, something was amiss. Some containers and compartments were outright empty, while others held unfamiliar items which were in varying stages of phase transition; melting, evaporating, sublimation, and some items even being inexplicably comprised of silica, gold, carbon, and other compositions which simply did not make sense for what she was looking upon. Korr’ih could not help but to conclude the items made no sense unless they were some sort of geological or anthropological samples.
Korr’ih was sure to send her findings along to the Robot as she examined the compartment, and with her sensor data and documentation, she included her own words as well; “Robot, numerous items in our hold seem to have undergone some sort of transformation, or transitionary result. My examination of the hold has been isolated to compartments and containers which have had their references in our manifests corrupted, or are unrecognizable. I can only provide conjecture at this point, but it seems that these materials were either incompatible to the transitional process, or, are unable to exist within the boundaries of physics within this universe… in which case, it is fortunate that any of us have managed to survive, and perhaps that in itself may be a clue… I will continue my assessment of the hold, Korr’ih out.”
Being able to effectively cross off anything that she did not recognize, or had a bin-number associated with a damaged file entry, Korr’ih’s work was able to be focused on what was still coherently present within the documentation she had available. Parts, components, equipment, tools, many of the items on the manifest were intact and undamaged, yet, there were still so few present. It added to Korr’ih’s risk assessment, as she formulated Herald’s options.
We could try to rebuild components, or fabricate new ones. If any critical components are damaged and we are without a replacement, then we could be in a situation of being vulnerable for days, weeks, or even months depending on what needs to be replaced.
A distress call could work… if there are any space-faring societies in the area. I don’t like the idea however. Something about it feels dangerous, tragic even, like a trauma from another time. What caused this hurt? Besides, anyone knowing our presence may attract unwanted attention, we do not want unnecessary attention, I remember this order.
How can we secure supplies then? Korr’ih asked herself, as she soon opened a storage container which held tools that she was familiar with, tools for the trade she had been trained for. Tools not for an explorer, or diplomat. What she found put her at ease through and through, and brought on a thought which she did not share with the Robot, not yet at least.
What caught Korr’ih’s attention before she could consider speaking her thoughts to the Robot was a feeling from a familiar container, embellished with the symbols of her people’s language, and of course she would recognize it; it was her name upon the container. Curiosity propelled Korr’ih to the container, as she reached out and worked her fingers upon the locking mechanism out of pure instinct, and soon the lock snapped open, allowing the Commander to gain access to her footlocker.
Within the footlocker were various items, some important, some sentimental, all of it entirely familiar to the Lorath woman as she gently picked through the belongings, careful not to disturb them too much within the zero-gravity area which was the hold compartment. Tucked away in a leather tube was a rolled scroll, once sealed with wax, and with the seal already broken. Upon the wax seal was an emblem which spoke of deep importance. Closing the footlocker, Korr’ih took to unrolling the scroll, letting her amber eyed gaze roll over the preamble as the vellum unfurled. Blackish red ink gave way to something, a glimmer, a shimmer of something Korr’ih remembered from another place and another time, from years ago when something was ‘right’.
Korr’ih’s gaze looked on, and through, and beyond... it was a calling.
Herald – Command Compartment
“WHASSAT?” Came the shrill sound from atop the Robot’s head, as the Lorthet’s feathers ruffled as best they could within the liquid atmosphere of the compartment.
Triggering the sound from the avian stowaway was a monitor which flickered to life, as a boot loading program splashed across the screen. Entries into the boot loader were automatically filled in by the macro which Korr’ih had executed from the engine compartment.
Code:MISSING DRIVER 視力▒▓ MISSING▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▓▒▓▓▒▓ DRIV▒▓ER 検出▒▓マトリ▒▓クス MI▒▓SSING ▒▓D▒▓vR▒▓IVER 宇宙▒▓時▒▓間分析 MISSING ▒▓▒▓▒▓DR▒▓▒▓IVER 複合▒▓フィー▒▓ルド補償▒▓ ▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▒▓▒▓▒▓▓▒▓ヤ̶̢̹̤͚͉̼͇̲̭͇̗͔̮̟̞̯̻̣̞̔̈̉̃̈́̚͠ͅマ̸̱̼̘̪̞͉̝͉͍̦͚̗̹̪̬́̄͆ͪ̌̃ͨ̽̓͘タ̫̜͍͈̻̻̻̣͕̹̽̉ͨ̈́̏́͢͟ͅ▒̛̳̥̥̻̪̼̞̜̰̠ͩͥ͌ͦ͆͡▓̧͕͇̱̦̳̯̗̳͖͇̺̬̳̗̓ͫ̒̈ͭ͊̐ͧ̇͢イ̛̹̘̟͉̯͓̟͈̫͍̣͈͎͋ͬ̈́̉͊ͮ̒ン̝̫̦̟̗̖̠͇̥͉̗̱̤̲̠͊̒̂̉̋͂ͩ̍ͯ̽͐́͂̌̍ͪͩ̽̕͜͞ͅ▒̑͑̓͒ͪ̔͘͢҉̢̘̖̹͚̺̥̪̀▓̴̢̪͈͔̹ͥ̇̌̑ͣ͐̈̊͆ͫ̈̚͜ͅͅの̨͔̝̳̳̩̱̟͔͚̣̳ͪ͆̊͛̔̓͢ͅ身̜̱͇̭̲͍̥̩̗̜̗͉͙̞͊͒ͯͤ͌̌ͪ́ͯ̊̑̾ͣ͑͋ͪͤ͡ͅ分̷̜͍̠̩͑͌ͬ̾̈ͬͭ̏̽̂͘͡証̨͇͙̗͙͙̫̦̦̤̟̤̰͕ͫ̂ͥ͌̌͊̆̅ͧ͋̌͑̇̊̍ͥ͐ͬ̚͡▒̴̢͔͉̣̱̝̄ͫ̉̓̀͟▓̸̶̸̘̲͈̹ͣ̅̓̄̐ͮͣͣ͜͡明̴̫͓̻̹̞̦̉̋ͤͣ̋̇̇ͫͪ̀͊̐̌̋ͪ̄́͋͜書̴̓̀͒̃̉̀͢͏̬̦̩̰͉̗̰̝͔͍̹̝̘͓͓̘͜ͅ MISSING DR▒▓IVER ヤマタ▒▓イン▒▓の身分証▒▓明書 MISSING DRIVE▒▓R ▒▓▒▓追尾▒▓トラ▒▓ッカー ▒▓ ▒▓ ▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓ ▒▓▒▓▒▓ ▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▓▒▓▓▒▓ ▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▓▒▓▓▒▓ ▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▓▒▓▓▒▓ ▒▒▓▒▓▒▒▓▓▓ ▒▓▒▓▒▓ UNKN▒▓OWN PROGRAMヤ̶̢̹̤͚͉̼͇̲̭͇̗͔̮̟̞̯̻̣̞̔̈̉̃̈́̚͠ͅマ̸̱̼̘̪̞͉̝͉͍̦͚̗̹̪̬́̄͆ͪ̌̃ͨ̽̓͘タ̫̜͍͈̻̻̻̣͕̹̽̉ͨ̈́̏́͢͟ͅ▒̛̳̥̥̻̪̼̞̜̰̠ͩͥ͌ͦ͆͡▓̧͕͇̱̦̳̯̗̳͖͇̺̬̳̗̓ͫ̒̈ͭ͊̐ͧ̇͢イ̛̹̘̟͉̯͓̟͈̫͍̣͈͎͋ͬ̈́̉͊ͮ̒ン̝̫̦̟̗̖̠͇̥͉̗̱̤̲̠͊̒̂̉̋͂ͩ̍ͯ̽͐́͂̌̍ͪͩ̽̕͜͞ͅ▒̑͑̓͒ͪ̔͘͢҉̢̘̖̹͚̺̥̪̀▓̴̢̪͈͔̹ͥ̇̌̑ͣ͐̈̊͆ͫ̈̚͜ͅͅの̨͔̝̳̳̩̱̟͔͚̣̳ͪ͆̊͛̔̓͢ͅ身̜̱͇̭̲͍̥̩̗̜̗͉͙̞͊͒ͯͤ͌̌ͪ́ͯ̊̑̾ͣ͑͋ͪͤ͡ͅ分̷̜͍̠̩͑͌ͬ̾̈ͬͭ̏̽̂͘͡証̨͇͙̗͙͙̫̦̦̤̟̤̰͕ͫ̂ͥ͌̌͊̆̅ͧ͋̌͑̇̊̍ͥ͐ͬ̚͡▒̴̢͔͉̣̱̝̄ͫ̉̓̀͟▓̸̶̸̘̲͈̹ͣ̅̓̄̐ͮͣͣ͜͡明̴̫͓̻̹̞̦̉̋ͤͣ̋̇̇ͫͪ̀͊̐̌̋ͪ̄́͋͜書̴̓̀͒̃̉̀͢͏̬̦̩̰͉̗̰̝͔͍̹̝̘͓͓̘͜ͅ ジェネ▒▓レータ規▒▓制ドライバー ▒▓UNKNOWN P▒▓ROGRAM ディストリビュー▒▓ション・▒▓ドライブ・シス▒▓テムの構成と制御 PURGE SYSTEM DRIVER VERSION: 22.78.1.26 IMPLEMENT SYSTEM DRIVER VERISON: 21.88.4.71.6 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . CHKDRV 100% OK CHKSYS 100% OK CHKPRG 100% OK CHKHDW 91% ACCEPTABLE MARGIN HERALD COMMAND AND CONTROL SYSTEM REINITIALIZATION COMPLETED. BLESSED BE YOUR JOURNIES. MAY YOU WALK THE DIVINE PATH. VENTURE WITH HER LOVE.
Once the boot loading system finished its work, the displays across many of the interface consoles in the command compartment flared to life. A surge of new information poured into the Robot seated at the helm, including sensations of perception beyond the Herald, as the sensors of the ship flared to life. What was outside of the ship was just as unfamiliar as what was within the ship mere hours prior, but what was certain was that there was space outside, and stars, and all that circled them, and from those stars came flourishes of electromagnetic radiation, space-time micro-distortions, and focused pulses of energy that cut through space without a flicker of harm, but pulsing in varying alien patterns. It was communication.
Herald – Command Compartment
The task of aiding and tending to Mr. Hanley-Lewis-Forde's efforts was one that Unit 00000002 had settled into quite comfortably. Picking up on the man's rhythm of progress and making the process of his slow progress across the engine room, salvaging useful components for consolidation, cataloging, and eventual repurposing, continued smoothly things for the moment settled into a comforting semblance of progress.
A series of files along with an attached comment from the Commander casually split Unit 00000002's focus as she continued to direct Mr. Hanley-Lewis-Forde, as well as poor over the inflowing data. It seemed that during the male's task, the Commander had proceeded to explore other portions of the Herald's interior and had discovered results that fit neatly with the present theory constructed to address the missing information and materiel aboard the Herald. In response to the data and message, Unit 00000002 sent and acknowledging message to the Commander before setting her forked awareness to the task of assessing the new information.
Beyond simple confirmation of the hold's contents, the additional data as to the exact effects began to form a pattern that Unit 00000002 started to assemble, creating a table of unrecognizable and corrupt terms, paired with the results discovered throughout the ship. Items with blank entries were labeled "ANOMALY" and appended with a numerical value to continue the classification system in place of the unreadable but present names.
As this table was compiled creating an idea of the various effects and results of whatever had occurred, a secondary cross-referencing of the Herald's emergency hard copy files was carried out finding commonalities in the Herald's files and connecting the parallels to provide a point of reference between the observed effects while predicting the extent throughout the Herald as similarities lined up.
As this task processed and completed a worrying commonality was highlighted that had previously gone unnoticed. The crew medical files drew a parallel between the physical composition of Unit 00000001 and Taela Kaila, however, the Commander's anecdote and the cryogenically preserved state of Taela Kaila suggested a key difference in the two individuals. Investigation of this difference revealed the implication that while both had been physiologically modified in some way, the modification to Unit 00000001 had been largely done to their skeletal structure, while Taela Kaila's physiology was extensively modified. Though perhaps the biggest difference was that Taela unlike Unit 00000001 had a name within the ship's files. While a difference that maintained partial parity with other observed patterns of missing or altered material aboard the Herald the exact significance of this data point was unknown.
Cataloging this difference for further investigation, comparison, and eventual discussion, Unit 00000002 was distracted by an aural cue from the Lorthet in the Command Compartment. In response Unit 00000002's eyes still under the control of her Support Unit swiveled and settled on the active panel, eyes tracing the boot program and finding an uncomfortable paradox of familiar but unreadable text amid the corrupted textual output, and finally a system recovery.
As the command compartment came to life around Unit 00000002 and new data began to flow in she once again spoke up to the Lorthet to satisfy its curiosity, "It would appear that my companions have managed to restore basic system functionality. Rather than merely operating in the minimal emergency mode that the ship has up until this point employed."
Pausing as she processed the new information flowing in from the sensors Unit 00000002 added, "We are in space, there are many stars visible in all directions from the ship. We are in no immediate danger from external sources. I will endeavor to display the visual feed on one of the monitors for your viewing pleasure."
As the Support unit set back to work finishing the data upload and indexing, Unit 00000002 set about achieving the task of setting up the promised visuals to keep the Lorthet's attention. Concurrent to this she also sent a more important message to the Commander, "Commander, it would appear that the efforts of Mr. Hanley-Lewis-Forde and yourself have restored the Herald's computer systems to an operable state. Additionally, sensors are also once again operable. According to the data, we are in an area of space that contains stars, and planetary systems. Observable patterns would suggest a galactic stellar formation. Apart from recognizable celestial phenomena, the sensors are picking up patterned emissions that suggest the presence of civilizations broadcasting and communicating.
"At present none of the observable signals are of a format known to either myself or the Herald's systems. With time and further data input, it may be possible to speculate as to the meaning of some of the signals. For the moment what are your orders?"
The Herald, Engine Room
It'd been a laborious trial for Danny and Robert. Together in one head, slowly melding with each other through the task they were being guided through. There was comfort in having something to focus the mind on other than itself; Danny wasn't sure he would've been able to come to terms with himself - and his chequered past - if there wasn't a bonding exercise to do it over. Said bonding exercise wasn't optional, and success meant life, freedom, and potentially a paycheck.
So the two-in-one had a vested interest, in a manner of speaking. After a couple of hours' work around the ship scavenging materials, using the printers and presses to get the shapes he needed, and then affixing them into place by hand, the result was a series of baffles and covers for the missing material on the engine's most active parts. The robot had calculated a safe level of output which the conglomerated solution would be able to handle, and Danny was responsible for implementation.
He stood up and drew his arm along his brow, forgetting that he was wearing a suit and rubbing its material against the visor. Even so, the time for a pat on the back could come later. "And I say the magic words..." The blonde mumbled as he headed for the breaker switch and kept an eye on the engine, "Poof~" he adjusted the breaker's position to an indicated notch and the engine started humming to life. The containment solution he'd built for the engines glowed lightly, heating up.
Tense moments passed, watching if his work would hold up. A hand gripped the breaker switch in case he was proven wrong. Soon, his gut told him that the Robot's calculations were on the money, and a smile broke across his face. "Good news, we have a fraction of power running again," Danny broadcast to the ship. "It'll get the balls of our essentials rolling, and-"
Something else had hit him shortly after the euphoria of success had washed over, and the Robot heard a grumble from his gut. Danny was bound by the needs of flesh, blood, and sustenance; Only a human unfettered by tenets of the Commander's deity. He barely understood their underlying zeal or the Lorath faith, but didn't pay mind so long as it put lead in her pencils and a survival instinct. Hunger had to catch up with him eventually, and he couldn't figure out why it didn't catch up with her first.
Perhaps it was a strange alien thing - no time to look too closely at it. "...and uh, is there anything to eat around here?" he asked nobody in particular, clutching his grumbling stomach and frowning. Did whatever he eat disappear between universes too? Well - at least its consistent. Argh! He whinged mentally, frowning.
I am loved.
I have a home.
People and love are there.
I am here to keep that safe.
They want me to be safe.
She loved me.
I will not let that be forgotten.
She loves me, and I her.
“I will be right there.” Korr’ih spoke, as her mind returned to the present, grasping the words which flowed through the helmet of her atmospheric suit.
Herald – Command Compartment
Doors cycled behind the Robot as the liquid pressure within the compartment shifted upon the entry of Korr’ih. “My orders at this time are to test our repairs, conduct further analysis, and address ourselves before we commit to actions required to guarantee our continued mission effectiveness...” She spoke but trailed, as she looked upon the Lorthet perched upon the Robot’s scalp, and looked down to see the open storage compartment, the violated spare atmospheric suit helmet, the ravaged rations, and the two additional Lorthet which were still and unmoving within the mess Disgusting creatures.
At the thought, the Lorthet’s head swiveled, turning about to face Korr’ih with an intense gaze, as intense of a gaze as its face which was somewhere between parrot and owl could muster. “Don’t look at us like that.”
“I can look at you, and your crippled friends, however I please. For now, I will allow you to live, and know I do so out of mercy in light of your misfortune of finding your way aboard this ship. I will also grant your kin aid, as your nature alone should not result in a death sentence.” In a gesture of mercy, and pity, the Commander picked up each motionless Lorthet by their legs, carrying them to a space along the bulkhead of the compartment, where at a bump of an elbow against a panel, a medical bed folded out from the bulkhead.
“Besides, helping you, will help us as well.” With that, Korr’ih placed the two Lorthet upon the bed, which soon had a transparent cover slide over the apparatus, much like the cover which served to seal in the sensor operator which had begun to liquefy upon the Herald’s arrival. Once the cover was sealed, software and hardware went to work within the medical bed, conducting automated evaluations of the pair of avian stowaways. Korr’ih’s action was not only a show of mercy, but it was also a prudent step toward better understanding just what impact their travel had upon biology that was kin to a Lorath.
Talons slipped from the Robot’s scalp as the Lorthet parted from the Robot, only to awkwardly perform a series of motions somewhere between flapping and swimming. Its motions were propelling its bulbous body through the space of the compartment at a painfully slow speed, until it came to rest atop the medical bed, where it began to chitter anxiously.
Love. Korr’ih thought, as she looked upon the Lorthet, It is not all the same, it exists in many forms. Even among the primitive, the impulsive, and the foolish. Her thoughts brought a renewed feeling through her mind, a feeling that came up from her toes, through her spine, and grasped her heart and mind firmly. It was a feeling of being lifted perhaps, rising more accurately.
“Lewis.” Korr’ih spoke, after tilting her head to press her chin against a switch within her helmet, “Come to the command compartment, with the condition of our ship addressed, it is time for us to address ourselves and our immediate plans… and be sure that our gravitic stabilizer is operational, we will be draining the command compartment.” After she spoke, the communication channel closed, leaving her with just the Robot and the Lorthet again.
Without a specific place to be in that moment, Korr’ih took the natural position for a commander, the command seat. As she took her seat, she brought up an interface terminal from the arm of her position, and upon the interface she looked upon the results of some of the Herald’s sensor data. “Robot, set a course for the brown dwarf at six lightyears distance, at four-thousand-two-hundred times light-speed. Set our passive sensors to sample the transmissions from that system as we approach. We will use the time contraction to speed our analysis and grant us a larger sample size to evaluate the occupants of the system.”
As she spoke, her fingers worked upon the interface before her, and with a stroke upon the interface, the transparent fluid of the compartment began to quickly drain, and quantities which clung to surfaces of the compartment evaporated cleanly, without leaving behind residue. It was a steady transition from liquid atmosphere to gaseous atmosphere, and once the cycle was complete, Korr’ih removed her helmet. It was only good sense to wait, as she had no intention to go about coughing up atmospheric liquid to transition if she did not have to.
“Robot. If you are able, you may step away from your post for the time being. Once Lewis is with us, we must have a discussion of our next course of action, the only course of action which is feasible in relation to our mission and its parameters. I would like you to be involved as more than just a control-machine.” It was the first time since the Herald had crossed over in which Korr’ih had displayed any sort of consideration of the Robot in the capacity of deserving some form of acknowledgement.
Turning her command chair to face the Lorthet ransacked compartment again, she spoke further; “We must discuss matters of stones.” It was an obscure statement, something uniquely cultural to the Lorath, but there was something about it in light of the situation, it was such an obscure statement that it broke far from the disorientation of thought which the crew had been subject to since their arrival. Somewhere, sometime, Korr’ih had found clarity.
What was unspoken, was just what a matter of ‘stones’ was to the Lorath. In the context which Korr’ih spoke from, it spoke of an extent to which a person was willing to go for their own needs, and that was exactly the situation that Korr’ih needed to weigh; just how far was she willing to go for the Herald, and the Matriarchy which waited for their return.
The Herald, Yet More Machinery
Danny had finished affixing something into a specific place within another of the Herald's subsystems. He stepped away and activated it remotely, then tossed his wrench into the air, watching it float up and bump into the ceiling. He frowned - gravity still wasn't working as strong as he required, and he snatched the meandering tool out of the thin air. The sooner he got this done, the sooner he could get something to nosh on.
Taking a breather and reading the Robot's analysis of the the gravitation system's output, he gave it another shot and begun adjusting the power flow in, balancing that out by taking power from another of the Herald's less useful subsystems. It would have been considered a delicate balancing act, but Danny's means of getting things back into check involved less than graceful methods, and a few curse words as he plied himself at the problem some more.
He briefly ignored his superior so he could shunt something into place, but he did acknowledge them with a "Yeah yeah, hang on-" interrupted by the sound of a heavy clunk - the centuries-old Human art of percussive maintenance. Stepping away after a few more minutes' furious work and hammering, he tossed his wrench into the air again, and it came back down into his palm. He repeated the process a few times to measure the ship's internal gravity output and get a feel for it, as he didn't want to jump and bump his head into the ceiling. "Seems that's in order. I'll be over soon, Captain."
Clambering through the interior of the Herald, Danny stepped back into the Command area, and noticed a Lorthet standing by the medbay - with a pair of other Lorthet inside of it. He vaguely recalled seeing the creature before, in another time and another place, but he was too hungry to pay it much mind. Taking his seat on the armrest of his station and crossing his legs, he looked over to Korr'ih. "So, anything to eat around here or do we have to eat the bird?" He asked, eyeing the ball of feathers. "Just kidding - welcome, whoever you are." He added, unsure of whether birds got sarcasm or jest.
Herald – Command Compartment
With the Commander's response given and Unit 00000002's status at present to wait for further development upon the Commander's arrival in the Command Compartment, Unit 00000002 used the spare time to check up on the progress of Mr. Hanley-Lewis-Forde as well as her Support Unit's transcription progress on the hardcopied data. Despite the unorthodox, and at times painful to watch methods of the lone male and pressganged Operations-turned-Maintenance crew member, Unit 00000002 noted that he was making progress and was achieving results that were unexpectedly stable. Something that was a small, but surprisingly potent comfort in light of their precarious position.
The data transcription process was also a point of relief as the archive of information was nearing its end, and soon the indexing would be complete as well. That the task was nearly complete earned a small bubble of pride both in herself and her Support Unit for accomplishing the monumental task in the relatively short period of time that they had been working at the tedious but necessary task. In the process of conveying a sense of appreciation to her companion, Unit 00000002 took note of the cycling of the Command Compartment's hatch and the entry of the Commander. As her orders came, Unit 00000002 offered an acknowledgment ping noting the trailing and the unexpected rise out of the Lorthet that still perched upon Unit 00000002's head.
As the exchange between the Commander and the Lorthet proceeded Unit 00000002 proceeded to prepare and run the Herald's diagnostic systems, wanting to make a final check that Mr. Hanley-Lewis-Forde's efforts had put the necessary components of the Herald in proper working order before any action was committed to. Amid the web of warnings that components were experiencing loads above optimal levels (though thankfully well within allowable limits) a more personal damage report flashed in Unit 00000002's awareness as the talons of the Lorthet less than gently removed themself from her head leaving the pico-jelly based flesh to reconfigure and begin to reknit itself restoring the superficial damage to its default state.
Continuing to keep an eye on Mr. Hanley-Lewis-Forde's progress, Unit 00000002 took note of the new stream of information stemming from the medical bed that was in the process of assessing the two Lorthet that had been placed within its confines. A pool of data which would be of interest in comparison to that which was gathered from the Commander's efforts in the hold as well as the discrepancies in the medical files available for the crew.
New orders were given as the Commander settled into her seat, a destination set, and a new goal to achieve. Turning her full attention toward the navigation task, using the sensor data to pinpoint the indicated brown dwarf, plotting the motion of the Herald through space and its intention to cut directly to their destination Unit 0000002 provided reported, "Acknowledged Commander. Projected travel time is twelve hours, thirty-one minutes. Departure will commence as soon as our Operations Officer is clear of any equipment which may pose a threat to his health. Sensor systems configuration set to consolidate information relevant to the chosen system, updated information will be forwarded to your station Commander."
As she fell silent and her communication for the moment completed, Unit 00000002 noted that it was somewhat surreal to watch the atmospheric fluid drain around her. While she knew intellectually that the fluid was not a natural state of affairs with most of the crew being native to gaseous terrestrial environments, she had no first-hand recollection of any state other than that of being submerged in the atmospheric fluid.
Almost as unexpected was the overture made by the Commander to have Unit 00000002 leave her post, something that she hadn't previously considered given the steady progress of events and tasks that required her presence in her seat networked directly to the Herald's computer systems. As Mr. Hanley-Lewis-Forde entered the Command Compartment, asking after food, Unit 00000002 decided that it would be for the best to participate as desired. Setting up a remote control protocol to engage the automated navigation and jump systems as soon as the diagnostics had completed, which would send them toward their destination, Unit 00000002 disconnected from the hardwire access jack and for the first time in memory stood up.
Turning carefully to face her companions aboard the Herald, Unit 00000002 was immediately met with the impression that she was very small. As Mr. Hanley-Lewis-Forde was standing it was most apparent with him, as she failed to measure up to the man's shoulder height instead falling somewhere about upper-mid pectoral. With the commander seated, Unit 00000002 was nearer to her height, however, estimations and knowledge of the medical records available on the ship listed the Commander as being taller than even Mr. Hanley-Lewis-Forde meaning that if stood next to one another Unit 00000002 would most likely reach the Commander's waist at most. The difference in scale was an odd one, after all, Unit 00000002 was fairly certain she was intended to be like the others, yet even her proportions did not fully match up with her longer than average legs, and smaller torso. Perhaps there was a reason she was so much smaller than the others? For the moment she could not answer.
Noting that Mr. Hanley Lewis Forde was addressing the Lorthet, Unit 00000002 turned her full attention toward the Commander for the moment, dark green eyes studying her superior officer for a moment before Unit 00000002 settled into a relaxed position, her hands finding each other between her back and the curtain of pale hair that washed down from her head to nearly the floor. As Unit 00000002 awaited the beginning of the conversation and an indication of just what the Commander intended, she received the indication that the Herald's faster-than-light engines had spooled up successfully, and their journey toward their first destination began in earnest.
Harold – Command Compartment
A thought trickled through the mind of the Lorath commander as she hunched forward in her seat, placing elbows upon her knees, eying the Robot, and listening to the man enter the compartment. There was thought of a simple behavior that her people placed great value upon; a gathering. Seated together, to share thoughts, ideas, feelings, goals, it was a precious concept to the Lorath people to be able to gather. Grief, hope, anger, happiness, they were among many reasons to assemble in proximity, to speak openly, and with intention. Most especially was the practice cherished in difficult times.
“Lewis.” Korr’ih spoke, shifting her gaze over her shoulder; “Overhead compartment eight-B. Emergency rations, all we have left really, considering the Lorthet ate our primary supply. Bring the containers, we will share in a meal, and speak openly.” She said with a quiet resolve, as she looked eye to eye at the Robot. At such close distance, it was clear in the amber gaze of Korr’ih something was ‘off’, inflammation of the capillaries in the whites of her eyes, pupils dilated, but her gaze was otherwise clear and intense. A hormonal response was likely at play, likely serotonin or adrenaline, but which was entirely unclear.
“We have a matter to discuss, and I would prefer that we discuss it while filling our bellies. It is only civilized for creatures like ourselves to at least speak without addled by starvation. We are not animals.” Korr’ih stressed that last point, they were not animals, they were not beasts, but just why was that something she had eating at her thoughts was left unspoken in that moment.
Herald, Command Compartment
"Aye aye," Danny replied, turning around and reaching up to the compartment, popping it open by pushing a button with a gentle hammer fist. "I suppose we should have a nap after we eat these and shoot the breeze a bit." He grabbed a few flat trays with covers over them and something shaking around inside them. On the top of each covered tray was a rip cord and a warning about the hot contents after the flash-heating process took place.
The flavours varied, but a pasta and meat flavoured ration caught Danny's eye, and he saved it for himself after passing the others to the captain, the Robot, and the Lorthet. As he settled into his chair and put the meal in his lap, the blonde also placed the deck of playing cards he found in the tool compartment down on a fold-out table in his seat. He pulled the ripcord on his rations, heard the pop and sizzle of the instant steaming process inside the meal, let it sit for a moment to warm itself up.
As the meal simmered, he took the cards out of the box and started counting them, ending up with four suits of thirteen cards each, and two wild cards. The suits were unorthodox, displaying cups, coins, swords, and clubs - in order of value. They had a full deck ready to play, and he shuffled and set them aside. "By the way, you alright there, captain?" Danny asked, noticing the redness in Korr'ih's eyes. "You look like you got hayfever. In space."
The thought amused him, and he couldn't help but chuckle. "Heheh, space hayfever."
Herald - Command Compartment
The brief period of time in which the members of the crew were gathered together was a surprisingly turbulent time, at least internally for Unit 00000002. While the premise was simple enough, the idea of conversing, eating, and spending time as a group was one that inspired a strange mixture of emotional, logical, and learned responses, several of which were unanticipated. Foremost among the oddities in her cognitive responses was the elation at being offered food, something that was especially out of place as she was very likely the one individual aboard the Herald who needed it least. Seeing as it was a part of a social ritual beyond pragmatism Unit 00000002 concluded that for the moment it would not be wise to pass up the offered meal and instead decided to endeavor to put the surplus to use for the crew's benefit in the future.
Seeing as she would be too isolated in her own seat, Unit 00000002 opted instead settled into an easy crouch her thighs serving as a serviceable table for the purposes of her food, something that she took small comfort in as she focused on the meal for the moment uncertain how to handle the development of Mr. Hanley-Lewis-Forde's distributed cards. Things had progressed in a manner that she had not expected and the brief pangs of anxiety were an unpleasant development, though in a way expected.
Taking a moment to silently give thanks to the Goddess, for her meal, the fortune of herself and the Herald's crew, as well as to opportunity to simply be there in that moment Unit 00000002 held her peace with a bit of ease, and mental comfort before timidly poking at her meal eating it carefully as if expecting to be told that she was not allowed to do so. As she partook of the meal she cast glances between the Commander, and the Herald's Operations officer silently beseeching them to provide some cue on which she could follow or some prompt with which she could respond unable, and partially unwilling to venture into the social arena on her own.
Herald - Command Compartment
"Thanks" Korr'ih offered in exchange for the ration package which was presented to her. Studying eyes went over the package, as she pinned the package as foreign, something imported from outside of not just the universe, but also the civilization she served. Her assessment was made clear by the words that were of alien tongue to her own, closer to those which Lewis used. What was not spoken was the fact that all the packages were pasta and meat, formulated to be far more filling than the authentic article, comprised of synthetic materials that were cloned and recombined in by a people that Korr'ih only had a vague recollection of.
Korr’ih offered her momentary silence to the meal after she had pulled the cord upon it, letting the automated preparation take place with her grasp, as her finger-tips were warmed by the reaction within. Her thanks was given, not just to Lewis, but to the will that had placed her and the crew where they were in that moment, and where they would be led. Thanks were the right thing to give, but, that was not what left her mouth before she started to eat; “I will be honest, at this time we are not mission viable.” She broke the honest news to her crew, before she tore open her ration package, and began to pick at it with the included plastic fork which came with the meal.
“Our reactor system intended for secondary support was what nearly vaporized our engine bay. Our primary reactor is a deathtrap.” Korr’ih stated flatly, speaking with an insight that reached through being. “We have maneuvering engines, faster-than-light engines, sensors, shield systems, and weapon functionality, along with life-sustaining utilities. What we do not have is reliable function of our secondary high-energy systems, support equipment that allows our ship to perform to the peak required to return home.”
“Any fool knows, outside of the realm of those who serve the cause—“ There was a word spoken, poorly translatable, but meaning so much more, almost speaking of a holy purpose; “monetary notes or items of barter are required.” The Commander continued to explain as she built to her point; “In plain terms, we are impoverished travelers, maimed and unable to make our way home with what we have left. We have no means of securing supplies nor equipment through socially acceptable channels, nor do we have the luxury to trust those which we encounter. Our mission here is a solitary one, to alert any locals of our being is to alert them of what is to follow. Even if we had something to barter, it would simply be unacceptable to allow anyone to know of us to speak of us. We are left with few viable options.” Korr’ih laid out the matter, pausing briefly to consume some of her meal.
Once her mouth was clear of food, she spoke further; “We must gain, without giving. We must take, without asking. We have a need, and the means to fulfill it, if we are willing to commit for the sake of our mission, our lives, and those which simply cannot live here.” Korr’ih gestured to the vitrified and liquefied of the crew. “Mister Lewis, while we have indulged in your expertise as a fixer, your true gift is what we have you here for, just the same as my own.” As she spoke those words, Korr’ih shifted in her seat, revealing the polished bone grips adorning the cannon-esque revolver at her hip. “We played at being explorers, but look upon us, and know the truth; we were never here for a sight-seeing cruise.”
The Herald, Command Bay
Danny remained quiet as Korr'ih started outlining the situation as she saw, there was no doubting that the ship was a stricken thing. However, he took no offence and raised no additional pointers to the vessel's condition, as he'd done what he considered his best with the Robot to keep it together. The blonde peeled the lid off of his rations and begun noshing down on them while listening to the Captain's words.
The man paused mid-chew as he heard Korr'ih mention the cause - he just didn't get it, and it was a word that didn't quite slot nicely into his understanding of the Lorath lexicon. He raised an eyebrow at the word, and looked towards the robot - who was a lot smaller than he expected - unspoken words being: The... caw-se? Whazzat? Neither of the men under the man's hood knew if the blue thing got the Lorath psyche, but he wouldn't be surprised if she did, given their fey behaviour and disposition.
Robert figured having such an important role as the ship's calculator probably had her in very good with the birds. Am I even expected to understand this the caw-se? He pondered privately before shrugging. Eh, no biggie. But, the next sentences caught the man's attention, looking up from his meal and the playing cards he was fiddling with. A low, throaty chuckle filled the cabin as Korr'ih outlined taking without asking and gaining without giving - it sounded like wetwork - a calling both men shared.
"That wasn't me laughing," Danny said, an unusually wicked grin coming across the man's face, "that was Robert. He's heard of rolling merchant caravans and ships for a quick buck, and I used to sneak in behind enemy lines and do recon, steal things, and pop heads while being quiet as a church mouse," he paused to take a forkful of pasta into his mouth, fencing the air with his fork as he chewed and swallowed, "but are you saying we're going to roll a whole goddamned star system?"
Danny and Robert begun nodding, their two minds lining up. They weren't being driven by the cause or polite professionalism - they were in this venture for the thrills now. "Count me in - we've come this far on sheer guts alone - why stop?" he clapped his hands together and looked amongst those assembled. His gaze turned towards the human popsicle in the other seat. "Well, except for them - they are guts now." Even so, there was a timbre of nervousness in his voice - he counted his lucky stars that he too was not guts.
Harbinger - Instruction Alcove
The first words spoken by the Commander while not unexpected rang with an unpleasant truth, one that in some ways was better out in the open to avoid the pitfalls of blindly hopeful actions. As the Commander continued to outline the state of the Herald and what it meant for their mission Unit 00000002 found that a new question had formed in her mind, one that had been pushed aside in the face of more pressing concerns but which was now plainly apparent. The transition to topics of material goods, and the aquisition of such brought a small feeling that at some point in time Unit 00000002 was quite afluent though in her present circumstances the notion seemed fanciful, wishful, and more than a little far fetched.
Returning her full attention to the conversation at hand, Unit 00000002 noted that it had been made clear that the crew of the Herald were travelling toward the brown dwarf system to take what they needed to move on. Their venture was going to be one of swift, brutal, and hopefully effective resource aquisition at the expense of whoever or whatever the native population was. All in all it was a fairly comforting prospect for Unit 00000002, it was something that she was fairly certain she knew how to do, which in her present circumstances was not something that she could say for many things.
About to respond with her own assent to the proposed course of action Unit 00000002 was silenced by the comment made by Mr. Hanley-Lewis-Forde. A comment that was less than appreciated, one which Unit 00000002 addressed softly, and politely, "Mr. Danny Hanley-Lewis, and Mr. Robert Forde. I would greatly appreciate it if you did not make jokes about those of us who have suffered less than pleasant fates on this mission."
Refusing to dwell on the subject, Unit 00000002 turned her attention back to the Commander and replied directly, "I have no reservations about taking action that would promote the success of our mission, no matter how many must perish at our hand in order to do so. My loyalties are to your command." After a moment of consideration Unit 00000002 commented, "Given the skill-set of our crew, the lack of reserve materials to promote recovery in the event of accident, as well as the absence of dedicated science facilities aboard this vessel, would I be wrong in assuming that we would have chosen this course of action even had our ship not been damaged?"
Herald – Command Compartment
“Depending on what our sensors tell us en route, yes, a whole star system if we can manage.” Korr’ih replied as she found distinctive satisfaction in Lewis’ response, just as had been planned a universe away, weeks prior. Understandably, someone else on the crew managed to piece together the chain of thought, as the Robot spoke of her analysis, one that Korr’ih had no reason to decline replying to.
“You’re right, Robot. At least for the most part. Our mission itinerary has placed this possible series of events at a substantially high probability. If everything would have gone perfect, we still would have had to scout the occupants of this universe, but without making direct contact, which would have been lacking in thoroughness. Our situation now, while short-handed, was determined to be the most beneficial and effective for our mission intent. We wished to know who we were displacing, contending with, and potentially becoming neighbors with. If we find extraordinary opposition, we would re-evaluate the next stage of our operations. If we find easily overcome opposition, we would continue our advance.” Korr’ih explained in full, as she leaned back into her command chair and crossed one leg over the other.
“Ideally. We kill everyone we meet, we do so without spilling our own blood, and without severely damaging our ship. If we come away relatively unscathed, then our mission will result in the security of my people, and a future of freedom.” Korr’ih continued, as she eyed the console which protruded from her seat. “We could have sent a battleship, something larger, with more power, more weapons. However, to gauge with such a ship, we would have had to attack a larger settlement, or perhaps even a whole developed star system beyond some measly brown dwarf star with what appears to be a meager outpost. Frankly, we have no interest in subjugation, or conquest. We simply need a home, one we can be sure is going to be safe.”
“So now, we ply our trades. We use this ship for its true purpose. We test the waters of this place and we know where we stand while we guarantee our own continued existence.” Korr’ih’s lips curled in a somber smile. “We do so without a soul walking away to bring about fear, uncertainty, or doubt.” With that, Korr’ih took to eating her rations in earnest, as she let the situation sink in fully with her crew; they were there because they were killers, the finest that the Matriarchy could trust in relation to the mission.
Herald - Command Compartment
As things were laid out, the direction of their goals became clear, and with that, a sense of purpose replaced the uncertainty and scraps of worry that had begun to grow as the untenable nature of their situation became apparent. At the moment they had a fairly straight forward task at hand; first they would determine the nature of the inhabitants of the system they were approaching, then they would choose the optimal course of action to isolate them, and then finally it was the simple matter of methodically killing them until none remained. All in all, it was going to be a relatively pleasant task.
With their task laid out, Unit 00000002 noted with some dissatisfaction that for the moment there was little to do but wait as without a larger body of sensor data there was little she could do to determine the type of communication use most prevalently in the system let alone attempt to puzzle out its meaning. With this in mind, Unit 00000002 gave a brief acknowledging reply and turned to her food as well savoring what little variety there was in the flavors and knowing that soon enough she'd have plenty to keep her busy.
The Herald, Command Compartment
"Well shit, I'm sorry," Danny replied to the robot as he looked aside. His intuition was telling him the artificial being had some sort of connection with the deceased crewmate, since Korr'ih didn't bat an eyelid at his jibe. The reason for the disconnect wasn't known, as he had expected the Captain to be the one to swat him down for speaking ill of the dead. "With any luck we can get 'em back in once piece when we get home," He tried to reassure the blue thing as best as he could, but lacking information, context, or the extent of their relationship with the deceased made his assurances shaky, "and make sure their next trip here doesn't end like ... that."
In the back of the man's head meanwhile, Robert was surfacing some more as he considered his mission. If I was biologically compatible with this woman, I'd totally bang her. The pirate considered, stroking his chin, eyeing the captain, and somewhat smitten by her. Korr'ih had just enabled Robert's inner child to run free - and the best part was, he would get a home in return. However, Danny knew more about Lorath than his former self did, face screwing up a little at the thought. Hell, I'd try anyway - didn't stop me before!
Danny diverted his gaze from the captain, focussing on the deck of cards in front of him. She's my captain, and Lorath culture does not work that way. The voice of reason and experience (painful experience!) rebutted. He dealt himself a hand, checked, then shuffled it back into the deck as a distraction, recalling card games between the two of them he could play with four, maybe five players. You would not be wearing the pants in the relationship, for starters...
Whaddaya mean?
You'll see, trust me. The blonde looked up. "While we're waiting, anybody up for a game of cards?" He looked over to the Lorthet. "You're invited too," and he looked over to the robot, "and so is your AI buddy."
Herald - Command Compartment
With the man's apology given and attempted placation that followed, Unit 00000002 considered the matter for the moment resolved as any held grudges toward Mr. Hanley-Lewis-Forde would only serve to hinder their chances of success on the mission. While the matter was effectively forgiven, Unit 00000002 did not feel any particular warmth toward the man and opted to ignore his proposition of playing a game together. This decision, however, spurred another to speak out cheerfully over the command compartment's intercom, "Greetings! I am for the moment labeled 'Support Unit 01' and I apologize profusely for my tardy introduction. I hope you will see fit to forgive my transgression Commander. As you know I am an artificial intelligence and function as a partner, best friend, and parallel unit to the one which you all lovingly refer to as 'Robot' as such for your convenience you may refer to me as 'the other one,' 'Robot 2,' 'your new best friend,' 'computer,' or simply 'number 2' alternative titles are acceptable and will be acknowledged for the purposes of this mission.
"Now then, while my more thoughtful and polite counterpart may not wish to participate in your game of cards, I'll more than happily participate with her serving as my beleaguered physical proxy. It will be an appreciated diversion of attention while we wait for the wealth of sensor data to accumulate so that we may begin processing the data in earnest and discover just what our new existential compatriots have to offer. Now then, if you would please give a brief outline of the chosen rule set, and deal the first hand I'd love to begin~"
As the cheerful voice of Unit 00000002's companion came to a close, she gave an expectant glance toward Mr. Hanley-Lewis-Forde and awaited whatever the card game would bring as she was, somewhat unwillingly going to be participating. Though she supposed it wasn't an entirely ideal scenario simply knowing that she'd be getting to hear more of a friendly rather than professional voice was enough to placate her for the moment and give some small spark of interest toward their male cohort's attempt at a social bonding exercise.
Herald – Command Compartment
Misguided Anticipation
Listening to the exchange of the crew, their words, their thoughts, their feelings… even the feelings of the Robot, it was meaningful to Korr’ih. Until that moment, there was little if any feeling to be felt about those which were sat near her, bound to her command, assigned to fulfill the will of her people. Certainly, the feeling Korr’ih had was a far cry from sentimentality, but, there was an appreciation, a value assigned to the people she was leading.
Korr’ih’s thoughts on the pair were soon interrupted by a third, belonging to a source which could perhaps be considered a crew member. Quite jovial Korr’ih mused as she listened to the AI speak over the hardware of the Harold, making quite the informal introduction for what essentially amounted to a piece of kit intended to make their mission attainable in some way. There was a thought, something that had Korr’ih speak up; “Kit, that will be your name for the time being.” The Lorath commander decided, before gesturing to Lewis to deal her in.
Expositionesque Narrative
As cards were laid out between the occupants of the Herald, the ship pinched together pieces of space and time, pressing, forcing, moving, creating a differential which propelled the ship through space and even a portion of time itself, as it approached the brown dwarf system which the Lorath commander had set her gaze upon. What the Herald approached was a humble but useful little dusty mess of a star system, one which had the mundane purpose of serving to line the pockets of people unknown, at places unknown, at least unknown to the crew of the Herald.
People, they were a key focus of Herald’s mission. People were a variable which had ways of shifting and changing as the equation around them developed. Little was predictable with people, twice over with people from another universe from those which approached the star system. As far as the crew of the Herald knew, they could have been collaborating to murder a colony of sentient kittens in mechanical exoskeletons, it mattered not even if it were the case, the decision had already been made.
Just what was the Herald destined to encounter? It was a mystery to the crew which comprised the expedition. There was no way for the crew to know that the system they were approaching was a simple mining outpost, that the population was small and ill prepared for an assault purely by virtue of being associated with the ‘bigger fish’ of the universe. While the Herald was unaware, so were the occupants of the system locally known as ‘Eldruid’, where only a feeling of unrest gave any hint of the calamity which was to come. Instinct, interwoven to the fabric of their universe, pulled upon the edges of conscious thought, screaming to be heard, desperate to foretell the tragedy which would befall the unsuspecting.
Herald – Command Compartment
Cards slid out before each crew member, as Korr’ih peered beneath the upturned edge of one card, she soon flipped it and set it apart from the other “Split.” She spoke as she set apart a card bearing a sepia-toned image of feminine beauty graced by a crown and little else., indicating she was willing to be bold enough to forego a near certain victory for the possibility of doubling her victory. “Kit, don’t be lazy just because you will be playing cards with us, we still need some idea of what we are headed into, we still need to formulate a plan of action.” Korr’ih advised, as she waited for more cards to be laid out, and as she looked upon the imagery of the cards before her, something itched and gnawed at the soft space of flesh within her skull. Something that almost made her want to gag and vomit the meal she had eaten, purely out of a subconscious grief in having forgotten something far away. “Urgh… imported rations are disgusting.”
The Herald, Command Area
The blonde was taken aback by the sudden change in emotion and language from the robot, but the helpful and verbose clarification that 'Support Unit 01' was using the Robot as a physical proxy cleared things up, but simultaneously raised several more questions. However, the most immediate question was how to play the game Danny was setting out. "Alright, this game is called Foo', as in idiot, eggshell head, dumbass, et-cetera. Its a bit complicated, so bear with me on this rundown. Feels like its been forever since I've had to explain how to play."
He started removing all cards of all suits between 2 and 5 in the deck, gave it another quick shuffle and cut, and the extra cards aside. He dealt every player a hand of six cards. "The objective is to lose all your cards by attacking and defending against attacks," before he put the remainder of the deck down, he took the bottom card and flipped it up - an Eight of Cups - and stashed it under the deck at a ninety degree angle,"and the first attacker is determined by this trump card. Whoever has the lowest of that suit goes first, and they attack the player to their left by playing a card. Aces are high, sixes are low, and the Trump suit - in this case, cups" he indicated the upturned card under the deck, "beats all, but you'll wanna save them - especially the Ace of Cups."
Moving on, there was more to go on: "When you make an attack, you place your card face up in the middle. This is the start of a bout, the defender counters by playing a card of a non-trump suit with a higher number, or by playing a trump of any number. Trumps can only be beaten by other, higher trumps. There is no need to follow the suits here, just the numbers." He took a short breath, subconsciously fobbing himself for a cigarette. He must've kept them in his top pocket once upon a time. "After a defence, the attacker may make another attack, and the defender must defend against it separately. Further attacks must be the same number as any card played in the current bout, cannot make more attacks than the number of cards in the defender's hand, and only six attacks can be made in one bout at any time."
"Now, where the fun happens is that other players may add to the attacker's attack to pile on - but only with the attacker's permission. The defender cannot get help. The attacker and his mates win if the defender cannot counter attacking card or chooses not to, and they must pick up all the cards on the table, including their own. Then, the next attacker is whoever's to the defender's left. The defence succeeds when all attacks are countered and nobody's game to continue, when they manage to defend against six attacks in one bout, or if they empty their hand. On successful defence, the defender becomes the next attacker and all cards used to attack and defend are discarded from the game - so successful attacks keep cards in rotation and your opponent's hands fat."
"After a bout, everyone replenishes their hands if they have less than six cards. It goes in order, starting with the attacker, then anyone who joined in clockwise from them, then the defender. When the deck runs out, the Trump at the bottom remains, and bouts keep on happening with discards as usual. The last person with cards in their hand is the loser. It's pretty freakin' complex and I hope someone who can explain it better knows how to play it in this universe, but its lots of fun."
In his rougishness, he'd guaranteed himself the Ace of Cups he'd mentioned earlier with some clever shuffling after getting a feel for the deck. "I'm pretty sure the Fox is working on crunching those numbers in the background," Danny said, spontaneously giving the robot another moniker in light of its AI partner being named 'Kit' by Korr'ih, "we just don't need to hear every step of the thought process between 'em."
Another quip from the Captain left Danny with one other question which he couldn't answer - and had almost no frame of reference for in either head. What he'd just finished eating and set aside was imported from somewhere, but he couldn't recall. Everywhere had a flavour - and these rations, while satisfactory, had nowhere to call home. As far as he was concerned - they came into existence from the compartment he took them from. "Imported from ... where?"
Herald - Command Compartment
"Kit?" The name was echoed in contemplation before a cheery response followed, "I thank you for your gift of a name Commander. I shall endeavor to repay the debt." The words were spoken on the tail of the first actions of the 'card game' interestingly enough begun by the Commander herself introducing a concept that suggested a doubling or 50:50 change in the odds, however before this act could be elaborated upon the man scooped up the cards and began an exposition explaining a ruleset that while internally consistent made little sense beyond the scope of the game, at least not to Kit. This was further emphasized by Unit 00000002 sending a digital inquiry silently wondering as to the arbitrary removal of the two through five cards, a choice that was not explained.
At the explanation of the rules drew to an end, Unit 00000002 freshly dubbed 'Fox' collected the dealt cards and looked them over giving Kit an idea of what they were working with so that they might begin discovering the optimal pattern with which to acquire and discard cards in order to achieve the winning circumstance required by the game. At the moment the goal was to bid low-value cards to encourage the others to 'win' with higher value cards so as to collect the cards and use them in later hands when it would be more important to score defensive victories.
An additional note was the mention of the sensor data which was partially addressed by Mr. Hanley-Lewis-Forde, something unlike the issue of imported foodstuffs that could be addressed, to this end while Kit awaited the beginning of the card game in earnest 'Fox' spoke up in her quiet calm tones, "At present we are reviewing earlier data which was overlooked as it appeared to be meaningless noise originating from the system. As we have moved closer to the system, and our focus has intensified on the local emissions it has become apparent that the inhabitants are using low-power wideband radio frequencies for communication. Due to the low power output of these communications magnetic interference from the local planetary masses and the dwarf star as well as interference from the system's outer dust clouds weakened the signals to a level that appeared insignificant at our initial distance... At present Kit and I are theorizing that this is to discourage outside observation of in system communications. Until we have a larger wealth of information to begin attempts at deciphering their communication habits, language, and meaning, we will not be able to say for certain the reasoning behind the preference for the observed communications."
Pausing as she considered what she had voiced Unit 00000002 gave the other members of the crew time to consider the new, if still sparse information before finishing, "We will continue to investigate the sensor data and will provide updates as new information becomes available."
"For now we may as well give our all to figuring out this man's card game and have some fun." Kit suggested as she encouraged Fox to waggle the hand of cards at the other crew members.
Harold – Command Compartment
An hour and some change had passed as the trio invested themselves into a game of cards which over time, Korr’ih deduced that she was not exactly skilled at and was showing little sign of improvement. There was reason for her lackluster performance; her mind was elsewhere, in many places, seeking many thoughts. Korr’ih’s lack of investment into the card game peaked as she declined to be dealt into the next hand. “I’ll pass.” She spoke simply, before leaning back into the seat of her command position, placing her arms to rest upon their designated resting spaces upon the seat.
“Kit, Robot, the assumption was made that those people ahead of us are using RF based communications due to a desire for privacy. What of assuming they simply lack a better means of communication in system?” Korr’ih suggested, as she tried to wrap her mind around a fleeting thought from somewhere else. “If they have a FTL communication system that has distinctive limitations in regard to throughput and bandwidth, they would likely reserve its use for priority interstellar communications. Otherwise, it would simply be foolish to use RF based communications if working on an interplanetary scale, as delay times anywhere between two seconds to ten hours would exist, preventing any effective centralized command-and-control. That is a big sacrifice for privacy, I don’t care how bad you want to keep your neighbors from seeing your sord bu’sim.” Her last words lapsed into something she simply lacked proper words to convey to the others of the group.
“If the people ahead lack a sophisticated FTL communication system, it could be possible to silence their ability to communicate out of system with expedience. As opposed to attempting to blanket the area with a jamming signal… of course, we would do that regardless, for the sake of redundancy.” Korr’ih spoke, and as she did, it was clear she was sorting her thoughts, using the Robot as a sounding board for her own musings on their pending encounter. “If our sensors pick up some FTL communications, try to trace it to an exact point of origin, perhaps we can have a target to aim for specifically upon our arrival.”
After speaking her thought, the Commander’s eyes closed, obscuring her amber gaze. Pulse slowed, respiration as well. In that instant, the Commander had willed herself to sleep. There was no reason to deprive herself of several hours’ shuteye before their arrival to their target destination.
“Now that she’s done, deal me in.” Spoke the shrill and raspy voice of the stowaway Lorthet, as it arranged itself to sit, as its talon adorned feet protruded out, grasping at air, awaiting the cards to be dealt, as its bulbous and fluffy body threatened to topple in its awkward position.
Herald - Command Compartment
For Unit 00000002 the hours spent in transit had been a mixture of tedium and almost meditative bliss, a contrast that for the moment she had opted not to contemplate too deeply. From what little she had paid attention to, Mr. Hanley-Lewis-Forde had won most of the rounds dealt and "Kit" in her digital musing over the game had come to a fairly certain conclusion that he was using sleight of hand with the deck to cheat. A claim that while likely had no hard evidence to present and remained for the moment unvoiced.
Kit for her part had proven a mixture of overly cautious and marginally effective in the game demonstrating a preference for purposefully losing in order to start hoarding cards early on while trying to make complex plays late- game to dispose of as many cards as possible. While her successes were few and far between, they had proven to be somewhat impressive when achieved.
In the background, both Support Unit 01 "Kit" and Unit 00000002 "Fox" had attributed most of their processing power to the task of monitoring the steady influx of raw sensor data. As the new information poured in the pair had been doing their best to make sense of what they discovered, slowly working to compile a language out of what was for all intents and purposes electromagnetic noise. The emergence of patterns, defining both the language transmitted as well as the habits of the distant occupants of the dwarf star's system was slowly becoming clear.
When the Commander spoke up, musing aloud the pair paid close attention, even as fresh cards were set down and the card game continued. The suggestion that a lack of superior means of communication present within the system was a curious one, especially given the inhospitable nature of the system which to Unit 00000002 implied a level of technological prowess which would normally alleviate such problems. Additionally, the mention of FTL communications sparked a re-assessment of the data gathered so far from the system and with it a re-evaluation of data previously discarded as anomalous noise near the outskirts of the system, blips of energy appearing seemingly at random.
As the suggestions and orders drew to a close, Unit 00000002 responded promptly, "Acknowledged Commander, any possible FTL communications arrays or facilities will be prioritized for identification and immediate neutralization. At present, there have been no recognizable signs, at least to our sensor capabilities, of spatial distortions that might indicate FTL activity within the system. However, there have been brief pulses of spatial distortions at a distance from the edges of the stellar disk, these were discarded as random fluctuations at first due to their infrequency, however, upon reviewing the data, they do appear to fall into a pattern occurring twice a year with minimal variance between events. Given the distance from the nearest planetary bodies and the bulk of the RF signals' origin, I would expect these are FTL transit events rather than communications, however, the data is inconclusive at the moment."
"Further information will be compiled and forwarded to you for review Commander..." Trailing off as she noted the change in state of the Commander's metabolism, Unit 00000002 lapsed once more into silence replaced by Kit's slightly hushed cheerful voice, "I'm in for another round, might as well make the best of our time in transit~ I look forward to facing our new challenger."
For the moment it would seem that they would simply have to content themselves with data collection and processing working to break the cipher of the alien's language and give the crew some insight into just what, or who they were going to be dealing with. Information which could potentially prove vital to their mission, or at the very least smooth the process.
The Herald, Command Area
While Danny dealt his cards to the Lorthet and continued playing, occasionally dealing a favourable game to the Robot or the Lorthet to keep suspicion off, the talk of crippling the system's communications seemed like the logical choice. "And how do you suppose we get rid of these communications arrays?" He wasn't doubting doing so, he just wasn't sure if they had the means. "Are the weapons on the boat working?"
There was no way to do a test fire until the ship dropped out of FTL. If they didn't work it'd be another do-it-yourself project between himself and the robot; Though Danny sincerely hoped that wouldn't be the case. Watching the Captain fall asleep had made him feel sleepy too. "Otherwise I suppose we could ram them with the shields cranked all the way up. Worked for me once..."
Though, judging by the seriousness of the mission and the state of the ship, he felt the need to add a clarification: "Just kiddin'. I don't think it'd work with the Herald in this state. In any case, we knock out comms, then go ground and ransack." The Robot noticed he omitted any mention of distinguishing communications between FTL and STL - to the blonde, there was just communications.
After a couple more games of cards, the rogue folded "I think that's enough - I should get some rest." He figured the best place to rest was where he woke up a few hours ago. Couldn't have been that bad - headache aside. "Spirit's willin', but the flesh is all tired and ropey. G'night everybody." Touching a few commands into the console of his workstation as he settled in, a shroud cast itself over the console area, and the pico-jelly seating rearranged itself to provide optimal comfort.
He didn't fall asleep immediately. Whilst watching and waiting, the Robot discerned brainwave activity from the man suggesting deep contemplation. Little mumbles, grumbles, or shifts punctuated spikes. Half an hour later though, he drifted into sleep, having found peace somewhere between his psyches.
Herald - Command Compartment
Hand after hand, card after card, the games went on as the Lorath Commander slept. Even so, the remaining avian of the group remained active. Chitters, chirps, and the occasional shrill word left the Lorthet, even as Danny went to sleep the Lorthet remained awake. While awake, there was an oddity to the Lorthet, it was quiet, it was far too quiet for one of its kind, even as it shifted its beady-eyed gaze onto the Robot which had formerly been their perch. Even as it stared at the Robot, the soft tones of the command compartment were louder than both of the waking occupants. Only a steadily raising octave which poured from a console gave accompaniment to the building silence between the two which were untouched by sleep.
A question lurked behind the beady gaze before the Lorthet spoke; "You there. Robot, are you stupid?" the bird asked, perhaps accused. "You were being cheated by that flesh-body, over and over. Robot eyes see everything, robot brain thinks everything... unless its stupid." It again accused, before hopping along, and with a flutter of its wings, it soon perched upon the boulder which was the twin of the Robot. "Too nice perhaps, that's stupid too." mocked the bird, before craning over and scraping its curved beak against the petrified face of the other which shared a vulpine appearance.
"When you can do something, and you don't do something, that means you're stupid, or you just can't." Spoke the Lorthet between sharpening strokes against the calcified body. "Maggies tend to do everything they can, when they want to, however they want to, unless they can't." chittered the Lorthet, as it stopped sharpening its beak to look squarely at the Robot. "Stupid means you could have been otherwise. Perhaps Robot can't be otherwise? Can't see otherwise? Can't feel otherwise?" There was a rumbling cooing sound from deep in the Lorthet's tiny body, a soft thunder that only caused the Lorath Commander to shift slightly in her sleep as it mingled with the raised tone which came from the sensors of the Herald. "All the better." It spoke, before continuing.
"They already know we're coming. They just don't know what to think about us." Another cooing sound "If only they knew~! They can't feel you though, Robot, they can't read jelly-brain either. Cripple-wing should count her blessings too, hue hue hue~!" Certainly much was said by the chatty bird once left alone with the Robot. Little indication was present to even begin to hint at the fact that the Lorthet was not just spouting garbage, other than the steady din which continued to pour from the sensors tied to a console marked with three letters 'P' 'S' 'D'. It warned of something which was simply outside of the Robot's grasp, but for the little Lorthet, it was as plain to see as the stars outside of the Herald, and the watching gaze which studied the threads which knit together the fabric of the foreign universe.
Herald - Command Compartment
The question of how to remove the communications arrays was one that Unit 00000002 had quietly considered. Due to the Herald's intended mission profile, and the now easy access to recovered data files it was clear to see that the Herald had weapons systems available none of which reported malfunction. Even so, Unit 00000002 had not taken the diagnostic results for granted and had evaluated other options which allowed for an attempt at misdirection before the man too fell asleep, "To answer your concerns Mr. Hanley-Lewis-Forde, we have the Herald's engine array as our primary weapon for the assault. Its output should be more than sufficient to destroy any target we direct it at. Should we decide to be less direct, the Herald is equipped with a couple varieties of secondary weapons systems to facilitate our secondary objective of gauging possible enemy strength. As such we should not have to resort to ramming anyone."
The silence after Mr. Hanley-Lewis-Forde had joined the Commander in the embrace of sleep had been somewhat comforting to Unit 00000002. It had suggested a calm where things were for the moment well. Counter to this moment of peacefulness was the quiet awareness that the Lorthet was unlike the other two active biological occupants of the Herald, very much awake. A shared observation occurred, the gaze of the Lorthet constant upon Unit 00000002, while her own observation was indirect avoiding staring at the Lorthet in the way that a predator might in a small attempt to give it some comfort.
When it was clear that Mr. Hanley-Lewis-Forde was well and truly asleep, the Lorthet began to speak. Unsurprisingly the first thing it inquired was quite possibly an insult. As it continued, however, the Lorthet displayed insight that for the moment had been tenuously assumed only to have belonged to herself and her companion. Listening with greater interest as the Lorthet continued to speak, chiding her for either stupidity or kindness while making use of the lithic monument to Unit 00000001 to sharpen its beak, something that Unit 00000002 tolerated reluctantly.
The lecture touched upon a foreign term 'maggie' before progressing into something less certain; can't see? can't feel? To what was it referring to? This it seemed to approve of for reasons unfathomable to Unit 00000002, only for more information to be given. The suggestion that those they approached knew of the Herald seemed unlikely, an unlikelihood further compounded by the design of the Herald's FTL systems which had been calibrated to distort the ship's signal in transit like all systems of its kind as a tactical feature for times of conflict. Unfortunately, the Lorthet was providing too much, too varied, information to simply dismiss outright, after all, it was neither completely random nor was it too uniform. The emphasis on the word 'blessings' didn't help as the Lorthet chuckled to itself.
Settling into her seat the Lorthet was given a moment of dedicated contemplation before the sensor readings were acknowledged by Unit 00000002, and at that moment she decided to speak, "I will tell you a secret." Turning to look at the Lorthet, she held her gaze for a moment before giving the small creature a genuinely warm smile. An expression that did not suit the 'Robot' who had demonstrated a profound lack of personhood, being clinical, cold, and everything that was expected out of a machine, this dissonance continued as her voice continued with a soft friendly warmth to it, "Whether or not the man was putting the cards in his favor did not matter as we played. For he did not need to know that I or my companion knew that he was doing so. For the moment it suits us for him to think that he successfully completed his deception. If, however, there were to be something that we wanted available then perhaps we would expose or subvert his tricks, or perhaps we would endeavor to win through a fluke and leave him wondering."
A moment was taken by Unit 00000002 to silence the report of the sensor console while quietly monitoring it's readings, mentally tying the whining alert to the Psionic Scrambler Device and piecing together some of what the Lorthet had spoken of. It seemed that whoever they were approaching had either psionic capabilities beyond the fragmented knowledge available to Unit 00000002, or something which registered similarly to the Herald's sensors a distinction that Unit 00000002 was certain she'd learn in time. This also suggested that perhaps the Lorthet had been speaking truthfully when they mentioned that their approach was already known and watched. For now, however, she spoke only a short conclusion, "You are right, though, I am stupid and far too kind."
Monitoring the sensor data tied to the PSD closely looking for any variation or suggestion of suddenly increasing activity, Unit 00000002 assumed that she might not have more than a fraction of a second to act if it would truly be needed to defend the ship however, she also knew that maintaining the illusion that the Herald did not know that there was anything to defend against, or have any defences available was important. The closer to the point of engagement that the Herald's defenses were activated, the more likely it would be that the Herald's crew would enjoy the boon of confusion or shock in the ranks of their enemy. Given that they were facing an unknown foe, of unknown numbers, they could use any advantage that they could get and there were few more tantilizing than causing disarray.
“No, no, I know you’ll be okay.” Korr’ih spoke, tears were in her eyes, and their faint dark traces were spattered upon the bedsheets which clung to her frame.
“Are you sure? I said you could come along, you seemed so worried.” Words came from someone she knew, someone she cared for deeply, from another time. They were spoken as the woman they came from prepared to leave to somewhere. A bag was packed, and was ready to be carried away.
“I just had a bad feeling. I don’t know why I did, I just did.” It was the truth, a nagging feeling had come over Korr’ih, telling her that something dire was to take place, something that would leave her in a position of loss, and a failure to perform the obligation which she had accepted within her life as a purpose.
“Did it come to you in a dream?” It was a question that was not part of the conversation as Korr’ih remembered, and it was enough of a divergence to send a crawling feeling up the Fyunnen’s guts.
“It was more of a whisper really.” Korr’ih replied, her throat tight, as if choking upon frozen air.
“Who’s whisper?” It was such a casual question, yet interrogative, prying, why was she prying? She needed to leave.
“I don’t know.” It was the truth, Korr’ih did not know where the feeling came from, the feeling she had that day when her beloved charge departed, and never returned.
“What about now?” Now, the whisper was stronger, it was tangible, heavy, pressing, but somehow fragile and delicate like the surface tension of a lake.
“You’re the one whispering, but you’re gone, and I am far away.” Korr’ih spoke, as a realization grasped her firmly.
“You just figured it out. You’re dreaming. I’m dead. You’re a universe away. You have something you must do… but you know in your heart of hearts, my voice is not the one you’re listening to.” A smile framed those words which carried an ominous message from a dead princess.
“I know, but what I am hearing, from her, it scares me. It’s not what she should be saying… but even with such ugly words, I know she loves us.”
A momentary euphoria struck in that instant, a fraction of a second in which an assumption took place, a realization of meaning, which was snapped away in an instant.
Nearing Five Light-Years Distance From Unknown Star System (Eldruid System)
Korr’ih’s eyes opened, her pupils contracted sharply, closing her sight away from what she had no greater desire than to see again, but she had no hope of remembering beyond a feeling of certainty and absolution.
“All stop.” Korr’ih ordered, as she quickly took inventory of the moment around her. Data streamed into her freshly awakened consciousness from the systems of the Herald, filling in spaces in her thoughts, answering precious questions with what was available in regard to concrete facts which the Herald had available.
“Mister Lewis, wake up. We have work to prepare for.” Korr’ih spoke, her tone pleasant but firm, as she directed her attention to the vulpine robot which had served so well in guiding their advance. “Robot, report. Do we have any further information available about this place we are approaching, the people who are there, and what we can possibly expect?” she asked, as she stood poised to formulate a strategy.
As if responding to Korr’ih awakening, as opposed to her asking the question, information flooded into Korr’ih’s thoughts in regard to their destination turned target. What she saw was through the ‘eyes’ of the Herald. A star system, the one that was somewhere around five light-years away, the one which they had set their sights upon. Imagery half a decade old stood before her, it was more than enough to show Korr’ih the infrastructure and design of the settlement ahead, and if anything, Korr’ih knew that whoever had designed the structures ahead had something else in mind other than efficiency. As Korr’ih looked upon the rendered display of what was ahead, she made sure that Mister Lewis had access to the same information; information depicting a station which was built more like some sort of small space-bound cathedral crossed with an aged industrial mining platform.
“How, utterly, archaic.”Korr’ih mused, as she studied the image of what was ahead, and was ready to piece the image together with insights from the Robot, and assault suggestions from the pirate turned everyday hero.
Herald - Command Compartment
As the Commander awoke and gave the order to stop Unit 00000002 compliance came almost instantaneously and without question, the Herald easing out of FTL and coming to hang in relative non-motion to the system which they stalked. As the order was obediently followed an echo of a response passed through Unit 00000002's mind, a memory of a time in which she had offered a casually sarcastic response to another captain in another time and another place. Just who had earned such responses, and why was beyond her for the moment but still, the momentary feeling lingered like an old friend whose relationship had become distant and awkward.
Rather than investigating the strange urge, Unit 00000002 complied with the order to report. "Commander, the Herald's psionic sensors have been reporting activity most likely originating from the system that we are approaching. I have been monitoring the signal strength for any deviations or implications of increased activity. At present no direct action has been taken as I did not think it wise to expose the Herald's capabilities prior to engagement."
After a short pause, she continued, "Additionally our Lorthet companion has suggested that they know that we are coming."
This second statement preceded a direct transcript of the Lorthet's speech in full and unedited, her own response was left out due to perceived irrelevance, however. Data from the psionic sensors was also highlighted for the Commander's assessment, as while Unit 00000002 had received a wealth of information and training from their people prior to their mission she had to honestly admit that interpreting and judging the proper response to the present data was outside of her scope of expertise. Perhaps in another time her friend, a still painful thought, could have made sense of it given her intended role as a sensor station operator and could have made sense of the data.
Another lower-priority data package was prepared, containing a summarized overview of the accumulated data which had so far resulted from the translation effort undertaken by herself and "Kit" of the in-system communications data. While still largely incomplete, it was beginning to provide some legible insights into the language and subjects of discussion of those who dwelt quietly in the brown dwarf system ahead. This package was distributed to both the Commander and Mr. Hanley-Lewis-Forde allowing them to browse the broken segments of language and piece together what conclusions they may from the data available.
For the moment her useful input was exhausted and Unit 00000002 settled back into her comfortable role of simply listening.
The Herald, Command Compartment
The two-for-one deal of a man was roused to wakefulness by the commander's prodding, soon extricating himself from dreamland with a yawn and a stretch. His face screwed up as he itched the sleep out of his eyes, and listened. Blinking as he assessed the command and gave it time to simmer in his brainpan, Danny sat up and looked towards his captain, flicking some residue from around his eyes away. "Yes'm," he said, leaning into his console and taking a look at what was before him on this fine day, night, or period of time. The blonde wasn't sure how long he'd slept, but he felt awake enough to process simple instructions.
"Well, ready or not, here we come, eh?" He glibbed, looking aside to the Lorthet. He knew these things were pests with their physical presence in towns and cities, and a social menace for how much they preyed on people's insecurities to force them into a vulnerable position, ripe for theft. There was a much bigger fish to flip for the bird after all, and Danny had to browse through the gathered information on the incoming system.
Gazing at the structures shown and quietly formulating a battle plan, he raised an eyebrow at the aesthetics and artwork of the place he and his new-found buddies were going to flip. "Huh, so that's what they do with a tax-exempt status," the blonde joked, pointing out the crenelations on the roof. "Makes it easy for us to hide along here - there's a blind spot over here, by the parapets - good vantage point, plenty of cover..."
As time went on, more and more little earmarks for nooks, crannies, and hiding places begun appearing on the map presented to him, primary assumption being that he and his colleagues were outnumbered, and had to eliminate targets without the rest of the station going on alert. He had to factor in 'five light years of time' into his bullet points, but figured he'd improvise, worse to worse. Most of the written and data components presented to Danny were gobbledygook, but looking at the dialect in the transcripts and visuals, he soon pieced a few words together based on the translation and transliteration of Robot and Kit.
"They keep saying 'magic' a lot," he said. Several minutes and a couple of confusing pages later, he could be heard chuckling. "I think this is a shopping list - for things I've never heard of." What were 'Greep Rout' and 'Eel Wrath Perl' anyway? 'Sproyute Tspagetti' sounded odd too - but if it earned a place on someone's grocery run, he could probably eat it too. After he broke into the writer's house and stole it for himself.
Herald – Command Compartment – 5 LY From Target Destination
Deliberative silence, that was what Korr’ih had to offer for moments after the Robot and Danny spoke upon what was presented before them. As seconds passed, it was as if a mechanism were in motion within Korr’ih, sorting, processing, filing. Amber eyes studied the display, and as her eyes moved over it, the systems of the command compartment responded to her neural link as the image panned and zoomed before the gathered crew. Flourishes of color and words splashed across the projection of what was ahead, but lingered for scant fractions of a second before the image shifted, moved, and rearranged to the Commander’s will.
Even as the image moved at her will, the amber eyes of the Commander continued to stare, but not at the projected image, but what was behind it, the plump pile of fuzzy feathers which was unwelcome. Teasing itches of memory danced at the fringe of Korr’ih’s conscious thoughts as she looked upon the bird. She remembered another time, years prior, a time when she still felt free, youthful, and unbound. Her fleeting memory mingled with her strategizing as she raised her hand, pointing in the direction of the console which had been steadily announcing its warning.
She was planning.
“Robot, activate the PSD, internal field only. Tune whitelist frequency to match the atomic frequency of objects originating from our universe.” Korr’ih spoke, she knew enough to give the order, but if tasked to perform the order, she knew that it would be beyond her ken, and so she thanked the Goddess that the Robot had not met the same fate as the frozen slush-body, nor the calcified twin.
Only once the Robot had turned on and tuned the psionic scrambler device did Korr’ih continue, as she looked to her gathered crew. “For optimal probability of success, and to minimize the impact of potential losses, our operation will be divided into five parts. Approach, suppress, neutralize, elimination, and egress.” She started, as she brought the projected image of the system up in full, the splashes of color and text rearranged entirely, before four colors stood out clearly; white, blue, red, and gold.
Korr’ih’s hand gestured to the white line before she started; “We will begin with approach. This will be a step we will all partake in. During our approach, we will enter the star system at low FTL while using active jamming to prevent communications in system. Herald will begin dropping to STL once we are within weapons range of the mining platform farthest from the station. Herald will engage the platform, destroy it, then move on to the next at low FTL, dropping to STL, repeating the process until we are on approach to the station. At this juncture, we will approach the station at low FTL until we reach a range of within fifty-thousand kilometers. High STL will be used for this portion of the approach, until we are within five kilometers. Thruster propulsion will then be used, as Danny and myself will deploy to conduct neutralize and elimination portions of our mission.”
Korr’ih’s gaze moved from one crew member to the next, before she continued while gesturing to the blue markings on the projection; “Once deployed, Robot will use the Herald to neutralize any support vessels which will attempt to aid the station, as well as providing continued active jamming to local signaling methods. Robot and Herald will also function as ‘look outs’ to warn of any approaching reinforcement.”
As she spoke, the Commander’s gesture moved to the gold markings, which were placed upon the exterior of the station. “Danny, you will deploy in a Gust armor unit. When deployed, you will sabotage the external equipment of the station. Weapons, sensors, communications, launch bay doors, and the like. Consult the sensor data to arrange your targets by priority; placing communications and weapons at the utmost importance. Demolitions charges will be used, in conjunction with anti-material weapons we have available.” It seemed, Korr'ih had paid mind to just what Danny had fixated upon as he made his first evaluation of what was ahead; she was playing to his specialties.
Another gesture from Korr’ih pointed out the red marking, which was placed at a loading bay. “My involvement will be in elimination, I will deploy in a Gust as well. I will enter the station, and eliminate any high-priority personnel, and neutralize any resistance present. Once the interior of the station is secured, we can then begin to ransack the station for what we need to repair the Herald. At this point, Herald will dock, Danny will enter the station and assist with salvage operations. We will then board the Herald, and egress from the system.” As she spoke of egress, she gestured to a white line which extended out from the star system ahead.
“Also, fluffball, you’re coming with me.” Korr’ih added, as she gestured to the Lorthet before she concluded; “Assuming there are no questions, we will conduct our task specific preparations, then close the distance with the target system at maximum speed.”
Herald – Unknown (Eldruid) System – Oort Cloud and Closing
“Signal locked.” Korr’ih spoke above the buzzing whine of the active jamming equipment, which produced a series of sounds to mark attempted communication attempts and psionic signal activity. “Platform target one on sensors. Robot, take us in.”
As the Herald approached the system, sensor resolution improved sharply. What was simply an industrial cathedral placed ahead of them as their destination had expanded into a hodgepodge makeshift array of planned expansions to the station, additions were under construction to the station, resulting in a distinctively different appearance from what had been seen on the image from prior to the approach. Aside from the expanded station, several more mining platforms were detected, along with a number of small mining craft. It was a little busier, a little more active, but certainly it was nowhere near anything that would raise doubt in the Herald’s commander as she looked to Danny. “Check your equipment, I will join you shortly to prepare for deployment. Don’t be shy, we’re not here to make friends, pack however much you need so you can get your work done.” She ordered, while remaining in the command chair, there was still the initial approach to complete, and she was not about to leave her position while there were still obstacles between her, and her target.
Herald - Command Compartment
In the moments following her own presentation of information Unit 00000002 found herself appreciative of the man's input, the suggestion of using the enemy structure as cover was a useful one. Though not entirely novel, it reinforced the idea that it might be wise to use the enemy's defenses against them rather than simply attempting to out perform local forces. As Mr. Hanley-Lewis-Forde turned his attention away from tactical suggestions toward the language parcel, Unit 00000002 shifted her own focus back to the Commander.
The wait was not long before the order was given, and the PSD was calibrated and attuned to the interior space within the Herald, the first of the Herald's few 'cards' turned face up. She was certain that the loss of information, assuming they were truly being monitored by the system ahead, would confuse their targets somewhat though she was fairly certain it would largely put them in a state of heightened alert. Another element to compensate for.
With the interior of the Herald shrouded by the PSD, the Commander began, laying out the general flow of the operation that stood before them, indicating what role each of their limited crew was to fill. For Unit 00000002, her job was simple. She was to clear a path for their ship to their primary objective, and then deposit her payload of operatives before providing overwatch support to both secure, and safeguard the station so that they might use it to facilitate their needs. A task that would limit the amount of punishment that could be redirected by utilizing the station itself as cover.
Herald – Unknown (Eldruid) System – Oort Cloud and Closing
As the Commander spoke her orders Unit 00000002 altered her mode of operation, connecting directly to the Herald's computing systems, putting her own body into standby, and for the moment borrowing the whole of the Herald as her corporeal form.
Immediately apparent was that within the system proper, a wealth of relatively up to date sensor information was available. The information coming in was delayed now by seconds rather than years as previously, and this wealth of new information poured into her awareness. The influx handled by the joined processing power of her own hardware, Kit, and the Herald's own dedicated computing systems, pooling together to process the myriad of information, began marking targets such as the mining vessels, platforms, and central cathedral station, as well as points of interest littered throughout the system.
In the moments before their drop out of FTL, Unit 00000002 send a short message to Kit, "Kit dear, would you keep the Commander appraised of any notable information?"
"Of course, do what you do best."
As they neared the end of their final approach in low-FTL Kit's voice once again graced the command compartment's internal comms, "Atmospheric fluid is being dispensed, transition to STL occurring in Five, Four..." As the countdown started the Herald's command compartment began to flood with atmospheric fluid once more, in preparation for combat. As Kit reached, 'one' the Herald dropped out of FTL, the obfuscating sensor noise from the Herald's wake drive dissolving.
"Beginning approach." Kit's cheerful voice intoned as under the cover of the active electromagnetic jamming signals and the psionic wail of the PSD, the Herald lanced forward a moment before a tugging on the occupants signaled that the maneuvering thrusters had been fired, shortly followed by a second lurch as they Herald's orientation shifted sharply again altering the Herald's course as Unit 00000002 began the first in a long string of adjustments that send the Herald into a randomly tumbling approach toward the first mining platform.
Nearing the platform, the scrambling of small vessels became increasingly apparent forming a screen between the drunken, rushing approach of the Herald while others lanced out in small wings of what could have been mining tugs of various makes or perhaps vessels of different mixed into their number. In its tumbling approach Herald's nose once again swung toward the mining platform, and the twin compressed packet particle cannons on the Herald's nose tracked it long enough to flare to life, slivers of antimatter lancing across the emptiness of space toward the relatively stationary target of the mining platform, prompting a new report from Kit, "Probing salvo fired, awaiting impact. Weapon parameters updated, future accuracy improved."
Moments later the sensors reported an odd phenomenon, a warping of the space between the Herald and the mining platform, looking superficially like a sheet of plastic wrap pressed inward by a massive finger as whatever defense the mining platform possessed attempted to interdict the packets fired in its direction. A moment later, the packets destabilized and a shower of glittering dust pushed past the defense drifting toward the station.
"Kinetic interdiction of an unknown type observed, munition still viable." As Kit made her cheerful report the cloud of relatively slow moving antimatter particles made contact with the surface of the station, blooming in a sheet of light.
"Probing salvo hit confirmed, damage to enemy platform presently unknown. Enemy spacecraft nearing engagement range. Reducing speed to improve sensor resolution on moving targets. Beginning engagement."
Tumbling toward the approaching enemy ships engines first, the Herald decelerated rapidly, spun, and fired her engines once more in a magnificent bloom sending her off on a path that kept her relatively perpendicular to the advancing forces. Once again the maneuvering thrusters fired introducing a new spin to her hull as the twin arms bearing the smaller combined packet rifles deployed. Servos silently worked oriented bringing their weapons into position for the anticipated rotation and allowing her to aim true as the Herald twisted, and slipped away from the first volley of solid munitions to rush with a feral slavering lust toward her hull.
The smaller point defense weapons of the Herald came alive in bursts dictated by the drunken twisting motion of the ship to intercept trailing missiles or creating blossoming flashes that gouged deep glowing wounds in the reinforced hulls of the mining ships. Even in her drunken dance as she tumbled amid the enemy fire in a manner that in an earlier age would have been considered a fatal tumbling spin, the Herald's smaller weapons struck true, a ship was knocked into a spin as a flash of antimatter scraped a missile rack and nearby cannon mount from the vessel while also nearly tearing one of the heavy manipulation arms from its armored socket. In the same instant, it's wingman smashed into an undamaged ship as the port side thrusters erupted in a blossom of explosions triggered by a secondary burst of packets. As one of their number tried to turn tail and flee, a brief flicker was all that forwarned the detonation of the ship's main engine systems as the antimatter made contact with the plume of exhaust.
When the Herald's larger cannons came to bear, accuracy was much less of an issue as the heavier weapons left death in their wake, their heavier payloads more than sufficient to turn the industrial plating of the defending vessels into glowing hulks of half-molten metal or incandescent clouds of debris. As men screamed, died, and desperately tried to fire upon the drunken motion of the Herald, her dance without fail carried her away from the panicked sprays of munitions. Her superficially random shifts of direction began to take on a feeling of mocking pre-cognition, made bitter as her weapons continued to bring death to those who challenged her entry to the system. For Unit 00000002, awkward motions; the insane twists, jack-knifes, and abrupt changes in the Herald's movement were managed with a delicate touch, brief flares of the maneuvering thrusters and the Herald's main engines kept the Herald's intoxicated dance moving closer toward the main body of the enemy vessels, as well as the platform behind which they guarded. Her unpredictable motion through space served to give the enemy no opportunity to anticipate the path that she might take, and ensure that she would reach her goal safely.
Tumbling into the heart of the enemy's defensive formation with a sudden burst of speed, the Herald in the moment of confusion and before the enemy could retrain their weapons illuminated the space around her. The previously unused plasma vent strips on her fore and aft, back and belly came to life, their hungry lashes of superheated matter reaching out to all they could touch, cutting hot wounds across the hull of any ship unfortunate enough to feel her embrace. Packets of antimatter lanced through the growing cloud of debris chasing any out of the reach of the vent strips, or those which had turned to fleet the abrupt carnage.
Reacting to a sudden building spike in the whine of the PSD, the Herald fired her engines lancing out of the heart of the enemy formation, narrowly avoiding a chain of explosions that followed silently in her wake in a much like fireworks seen up close. Unsettled by the lack of detected munitions which should have fortold such an onslaught, Unit 00000002 wondered just what surprises the residents of this system, or this universe for that matter held.
Continuing on, the Herald in a rough sweeping arc drifted in a mock orbit around the mining platform away from it's slagged surface where the initial shots had impacted. The motion put her opposite the main body of the enemy force and gave a view of windows looking out into space as well as sealed ports which likely handled material and mining tug traffic. As she moved, the Herald opened fire focusing her weapons and showering the platform in a stream of antimatter, the articulated turrets cutting sweeping lines on the surface of the platform while the forward mounted cannons left gouges in the hull where the packets sank into the material.
The onslaught proved quickly to be too much as the platform which had been expected to survive quite a beating broke up, the warped pieces torn apart by the antimatter detonations rapidly scattered, forming a shotgun spread of debris which lanced outward into the disorganized ranks of the few defenders who remained whole near the platform, while tearing apart any disabled ships on the far side likely killing any who had managed to survive. Following the destruction of the mining platform, only a moment was taken to confirm that there were no remaining high priority targets in the immediate area before Unit 0000002 turned the Herald toward their primary goal the cathedral station.
As Kit reported cheerfully, "Target one eliminated, progressing toward target two." Unit 00000002 accelerated away from the field of debris soon engaging the Herald's wake drive once more driving them toward on of the system's many mining platforms and the eventual goal of the gas giant and their primary objective.
Herald - Unkown (Eldruid) System - Gas Giant Orbit Cathedral Station Approach
In a little over three hours, the Herald had traveled across the system visiting the various mining platforms along the way as they progressed in the system. Each time she had left floating graves in her wake. Her banshee wail rang out silencing the voices of those she visited, effectively keeping the numerically superior residents of the system from coordinating a defense and leaving the Herald largely free to hunt those left unprotected. Near the end of her grand tour, however, it had become apparent that the goals of the locals had shifted, with the last mining platform they had visited being abandoned and the one before it in the process of evacuating. Now as the Herald rounded the vast curve of the gas giant it became apparent that the locals had opted for an attempt at a last stand.
"Primary objective, Cathedral Station sighted. Preparing for final approach." Kit's gleeful voice once again called out, "It is recommended that Mr. Hanley-Lewis-Forde, the Lorthet, and yourself prepare for a hot drop Commander... Three frigates of similar make to the one which we chased down trying to flee the system have been identified amid the enemy small craft. After initial disruption of the enemy forces, we will discretely deposit Mr. Hanley-Lewis-Forde, and yourself for your operations before attempting to draw away the bulk of the enemy units in anticipation for the arrival of the ships of the sunward mining outposts."
As Kit spoke, Unit 00000002 prepared for her portion of the task bringing the as of yet dormant R88 online and verifying that it was in fact provided with high yield antimatter munitions. The preparations made, the Herald began to accelerate toward the enemy formation her packet cannons firing in a sequence aiming for the three largest ships before them while also covering the firing of the R88, the shell preceding the Herald as a silent agent of death covered by the more familiar discharges of the Herald's previously demonstrated weapons systems. At this time the Herald also twisted, launching herself away from the incoming net of weapons fire that hoped to catch her in its grasp moving in an over exaggerated arc well away from any potential attempts to cover the Herald's escape vectors before once again beginning a careful approach toward the station as the first salvo made contact with the larger less maneuverable ships.
Two of the ships held fast, their odd defenses much like those demonstrated by the mining platforms and the sprinkling of antimatter would knowingly cause only superficial damage, however, the center ship's bow buckled as the R88's slug impacted followed an instant later with a clean white flash as the compressed antimatter broke containment and detonated within the belly of the frigate. As the gutted ship's sisters dealt with the explosion and tried to compensate following the impact of the cloud of debris, the Herald lanced forward a burst of speed and a change of tactics plunging her through the void created in the middle. As she plunged through the heart of the enemy formation, the missile pods on her topside and belly snapped open disgorging her precious store of munitions into the heart of the enemy formation, the small missiles peeling away from the Herald's path and into the heart of the enemy formation smaller antimatter blossoms complimenting those delivered by her packet rifles as they swept through the gathered enemies.
Decelerating rapidly, the Herald angled around and behind the cathedral station, coming to a stop on the far side and briefly lapped at its surface with the plasma vent strips, before waiting for the crew to disembark and begin the second phase of their mission.
The Herald, On Approach to Unknown System
The approach part of the plan which was being outlined made enough sense to the wetworker. It'd been a very long time since he had an employer able to supply all his tools up front. Passing them over in his hand and putting them aside for when they were all necessary, Danny was confident the gear supplied by Korr'ih would do the job. For now, more pressing matters were calling, attention directed towards his operations station before he and the captain made the approach.
♫ XIII OST - SSH-1 Military Base - Total Red ♫
With a little assistances and adjustments made on the fly by the Kit, Danny was pointing a guidance laser towards the intended targets, snapping towards incoming threats as necessary. From his screen, all the blonde had to do was designate the point, and let the sensors on the munitions do the rest. Little pops and lights kept on appearing as targets were confirmed hit.
Though he showed competence in making sure targets hit their mark, this wasn't what he was meant to be doing for long, nor was it where his passion laid. "You take over the rest, I gotta suit up," Danny said, standing up and delegating his duties to the Kit, and eagerly leaping out to suit up.
Amongst the possessions he'd brought along a long, straight edged sword with a powered blade, and a pistol with a suppressor attached, both in a long, thin attaché case. The handgun felt a little different when he picked it up, but inspecting the weapon revealed no egregious changes from when he last handled it a long long time ago. Giving the blade a brief power on, he saw the energised cutting edge, grin creeping across his face. Huh, this'll do if the bombs don't go off.
It was t-minus a minute until Danny and Korr'ih were due to breach the station together. He had a backpack full of satchel charges, some shiny new duds, and half a pack of cigarettes. It was pitch black in the void of space, lit by the explosions made by the Herald's boisterous approach, and his visor's sheen reflected the carnage displayed around him. And in this moment, the two-in-one deal of a man was ready to shine. "Hit it." He said, pointing ahead at the airlock.
Herald - Closing On Target
From her command position, Korr’ih watched, she watched because her flesh and blood would simply get in the way. Even as a neural-link with the Herald dumped a steady rush of data into a cybernetic processor embedded at the base of her skull, Korr’ih struggled to keep up with the world around her. Surely it had started simply enough, a probing attack run, but that gave way to the dogfight. Bursts of energy; plasma, antimatter reactions, and unknown rips into the fabric of the universe they had intruded so brazenly into, they flashed across her vision, tickled at her senses, and were so quickly torn away by their brevity. What persisted longer was the vertigo, the vertigo of the Herald twisting, squirming, darting through space at a rate which Korr’ih could only marvel at, not just for speed of motion, but for the speed in which commands were forced into the system. Marveling was secondary however to the biological.
Korr’ih’s vision narrowed, then came into focus, then quickly threatened to fade to black, only to come back suddenly. Blood churning in her body was pulled and pushed within her, even as the gravitic compensators of the Herald worked, they could only do so much to counter the forces exerted upon the ship by the Robot’s maneuvering. Pressed against Korr’ih’s body, her ‘Wind’ type suit squeezed upon her, forcing blood from her extremities to her core, and from her core to her head. It was a struggle to find the balance between blacking out, and rupturing one of the many delicate vessels which transported blood through her brain. Then, the pause, only to have the Herald scream at the next location, only to have the contorting maneuvers forced upon the ship again.
As the Herald bounded and lurched, Korr’ih’s gaze struggled to remain focused, and as she looked within the command compartment, something nagged at her, something outright agitated her. What bothered Korr’ih so profoundly was the Lorthet, who simply floated within the atmospheric fluid which had again filled the command compartment. As the Herald lurched, it remained fixed in place, as it twisted, the Lorthet seemingly rolled in place, with the ship twisting around its point in space. She could not understand it, the defiance of the diminutive avian creature which seemed to fly in the face of reason itself.
Eventually, the repetition came to a halt, only to give way to the Herald’s run on the ‘Cathedral’, and with that approach Korr’ih stood from her seat, the synthetic fibers of the ‘Wind’ which hugged her body did more than a little of the work in keeping her upright as her equilibrium adjusted. Even as her inner ear churned, she reached out, grasping the Lorthet into her care. “Robot, make sure none of them escape. That is your priority. Not a word of us leaves this system, it shall be a tomb.” Ordered the Lorath commander, as she left the command compartment and made way to the airlock chamber. As she strode toward the chamber, she looked toward Danny, making sure he was following along after contributing his share of assistance in their approach.
One airlock chamber cycle completed, then soon another did as well, as Korr’ih left behind the atmospheric fluid filled command compartment to step into the interconnecting chamber which joined together the different sections of the Herald, she allowed Danny to keep up, as they soon cycled into the loading/unloading chamber which served as a combination of airlock and loading compartment for small cargo. As soon as Korr’ih stepped into the compartment, the atmospheric helmet designed for pilot-usage was removed by her eager hands, as she skillfully prepared for her part in their operation. There was no uncertainty, no doubts, no questions, no missing pieces. What she was doing, and about to do, was ingrained to her to a degree in which it was part of her very life essence; she was meant to be a soldier, from the moment she hatched.
In the loading bay, a locker was embedded into the bulkhead, the sliding shutter which protected and secured the locker was pitted and corroded, something in the shutter did not agree with their transition, however, she was able to punch in a pass code on a nearby panel, which in turn analyzed her bio-electric field. After a silent handshake, the locker shutter slid open, revealing a treasure trove of ordinance. Cases holding equipment were neatly packed, rifles were arranged neatly upon racks, ammunition was stored sensibly adjacent to their proper platform of use, and an arrangement of specialty ordinance was even available for the purposes of Danny’s portion of the mission.
Korr’ih’s hands quickly seized upon what she needed, as she opened a hard-shelled container which she began to pull segments of metallic components out of, components which upon being placed against her ‘Wind’ suit, immediately shifted and secured into place. From the container labeled ‘Gust’, the Commander placed parts which quickly underwent a process of forming a stronger and more robust layer of armor over her body, and adding an assortment of additional functions and features. Placed upon the added layer, she secured a sort of harness, a harness which quickly hummed to life once it was tied into the control unit of her ‘Gust’ armor kit. Sealing her from the slings and arrows of the universe around her, Korr’ih secured the helmet of the ‘Gust’ in place which adjusted into a semi-rigid hood, with an opaque face-plate, which only incorporated a pair of softly glowing circular discs, their color and hue settling into a glowing amber.
Within moments, Korr’ih’s hands seized upon the weapons she needed from the locker, securing a munitions pack upon her back, and an assortment of weapons onto storage mounts on her legs, hips, and onto the munitions pack itself. When she was done, she had enough armaments on her person to supply a squad of personnel, yet thanks to the suit which hugged around her body, she retained her mobility, as she stepped into the exit airlock alongside Danny. With his assurance of readiness, she cycled the airlock. Atmosphere gave way to vacuum, as the external hatch of the Herald parted, revealing the void beyond. A pulse of rapidly expanding heated gas provided Korr’ih a push out of the Herald, as she used the thrusters of her Gust to launch from the ship, and when she did, she saw the place which she was to ply her trade.
After Danny and the Robot’s handiwork on their initial approach, the ‘Cathedral’ station had gained some rather noteworthy blemishes upon its features. Several deep smoldering gashes were torn into the primary and superstructure of the station, causing portions of the scaffolding which was in place during the renovation of the station to hang in tatters, or drift lazily through the vacuum. Portions of the station which were part of its original core structure were not so much tattered, but pitted where the precision strikes of the Herald had served to soften their target, and torn craters of twisted metal marked where the less ‘precise’ munitions of the Herald had exploded, marking the impact of their encounter.
“Mister Lewis.” Korr’ih spoke through a short-range communication line; “You’re on the clock. We separate from here, I will find my point of entry and begin my work inside, you are free to begin your work on the exterior.” She spoke, reminding him of his mission, before she propelled herself away from her co-conspirator, and made her way to what her helmet integrated optics informed her was a loading bay meant for ore haulers, at least according to the sensor information they had gathered during their initial approach.
When she arrived at her point of entry, she found that sizable blast shutters had closed off the ore loading bay from the space, and danger, beyond. A gentle touch against the metal, and a gaze from the amber glowing discs in her helmet told Korr’ih what she needed to know before she raised an armored arm, and from a device fastened to her forearm an electromagnetically guided projection of super-heated plasma lanced forth, and with it, she began her entry.
The Herald, On Target
With another look at how laden Korr'ih had made herself prior to pushing off and making, Robert had nothing but appreciation for a woman so well armed - a blush filtered across Danny's face. Translating the desire into practical terms, Danny grabbed himself an additional piece of equipment from the locker: A rifle of some description, capable of hurling bolts of plasma at targets. Fobbing with it a little, Danny double checked if the bayonet was still sharp - and it popping out from under the barrel with an audible schwing.
Danny's inner maniac relished the opportunity to have some stronger hardware than a little pistol - with that, the two could set off on their mission with the Captain in confidence. "Yes'm," Danny replied, looking out into space and rolling his shoulders. The blonde quickly instructed the HUD of his specified locations for demolition in order of need: Weapons, sensors, communications, launch bay doors, and then anything else which seemed important.
Ideally, he would have to place ten charges, so he packed fifteen; A little extra ... care was always necessary for tasks like this - worse to worse they could thrown at the enemy and blown up in mid-air like clumsy grenades; Robert had done it once before in a getaway with pipe bombs and it worked well enough.
Spotting his point of approach coming up, Danny jetted out into the darkness in his WIND and GUST, landing against the exterior of the battered platform and rolling against a parapet. His HUD highlighted all the spots necessary. First, the rogue was scampering along the surface of the structure, wasting no time out in the open on the platform. "Approaching target," he said, relaying to Korr'ih and the Robot as he spotted a coilgun array with a block of explosives' name on it.
In the midst of the chaos caused by the Herald's sudden entry, a lone humanoid against the surface of a space station could be ignored in favour of the much more obvious target. At least with the Robot at the controls, Danny could ensure all eyes were on her, and there wouldn't be any friendly fire.
Watching the gun barrels and ensuring they were pointed away from his person, and at the threat in the skies, the blonde stayed low as the turrets tracked the Herald. When it finished firing, Danny sprinted in with a brick of explosives and slammed it against the underside of the turret house, mindful of the rotating structure. He repeated the process for the next gun in the array, and again for the third.
Not wishing to waste time, Danny absconded quickly with his detonator wrapped around a lanyard on his wrist. "That's one set of guns done, now going for the antennae array up top." He said, with the detonator in his hand and ready to squeeze. "Korr'ih, how are the locals?" After all, Korr'ih was huge, and covered in guns. Danny was not huge, and only partially covered in gun - he needed to know what sort of resistance was inside once he'd wrapped up.
Herald - Unknown (Eldruid) System - Cathedral Station Proximity
For just a little less than a minute, the Herald had hung in space eclipsed by the station which formed the heart of their operation. In this time the airlock cycled, and two individuals were deposited near the surface of the station, visually insignificant yet they brought a doom with them.
In the moments before the two left the airlock Unit 00000002 spoke up, her soft steady voice feeding through the comm line, "Mission parameters are acknowledged Commander, none shall be spared." After a pause, she added in farewell, "May the Goddess watch over you and may your aim be true. Both of you."
The seconds following as the airlock closed, and the Herald was for the moment left devoid of the majority of her active crew spoke of cold things and death. As if to counter this Kit's voice filled the void with her customary jovial warmth, "Now it's just the two of us~ A shame for the locals really. Shall we return to our duty?"
In the seconds that passed as the small forms of the Commander, and Mr. Hanley-Lewis-Forde drifted free of the Herald and to a safe distance from her hull, maneuvering thrusters fired pushing the Herald away from the surface of the station and her main engines came to life a silent fountain of plasma briefly illuminating the station, casting stark shadows across its surface for only a moment before the Herald shot off becoming a dwindling point of light as tens of kilometers became hundreds, and then thousands.
Herald - Unknown (Eldruid) System
"It's a shame," Unit 00000002 began as the Herald once again plunged into the heart of the local forces, "We could have learned much here, discovered whether those who inhabit this existence are kindly... Though I suppose they would have tried to exploit us for their own benefit. Just like all the others." Who exactly the others were she could not clearly remember, though the lessons learned remained fresh and vivid, imparting a wariness that refused to rest.
For a moment there was silence in the Herald, a silence beyond what she had known previously. No messages sent, no sounds of fidgeting or breath. Once again a cold stillness as the Herald twisted through space, narrowing the margins of her escapes from enemy retributions and carefully mimicking the symptoms of component failure. Brief interruptions in her engine output making sending her off of her intended course, weapons seeming to slow in their output, little things to give the enemy hope, to draw them in and think that finally, their enemy was tiring. That they might finally land the shot upon her alien hull that would make them heroic avengers of their fallen kin.
Once again Kit broke the silence her joy tempered slightly by a tone of hopefulness, "Perhaps this time things will be better? We already have less reason to be afraid. More importantly, we have much to look forward to; new friends, new opportunities, a fresh start. Our situation is already much better, we just need to reach out and grasp our future, our prosperity. You'll see soon enough."
The moment of Kit's talk of hopeful beginnings mirrored the moment that the Herald began her retaliation. The enemy flotilla had been coaxed away from its post defending the cathedral station by a mixture of threat and the cultivated belief that the Herald was soon done for, a feeling that only swelled as the Herald seemed to blunder into the reinforcements of the sunward mining platforms. One that died as quickly as it came, with the realization that neither group could open fire without risking damage to friendly forces.
An answer to this conundrum came in the form of a series of accurate fire from the Herald's main particle cannons preceding the deployment of the R88 on her belly. Accelerated slugs lanced dumbly through space hidden by the energetic sprays of antimatter and plasma from the Herald. The remaining five rounds in the cylinder punched through the bows of an incoming trio of defending frigates, warping the structures and knocking the frigates off course for a moment before the antimatter broke containment and blossomed deep within their hulls.
Negating her forward momentum the Herald fell back toward the pursuing forces the Herald drifted over antimatter scarred upper deck of one of the two remaining frigates. Drifting amid the twisted and warped deck guns the Herald used the larger ship as cover momentarily the Herald waited patiently as she approached center-mass of the vessel slowly pitching upward in the moment before her four engines flared to life in parallel with the vent strips. The Herald lashed the surface of the vessel with arcing plasma leaving white glowing rends in the hull, while the Herald's engines poured a plume of plasma into the heart of the vessel burning a deep wound in the top of the frigate before filling its halls with superheated matter.
As the Herald darted away driven by her engine burn, the frigate twisted in space, navigation likely forgotten, as the crews struggled to perform damage control. Twisting back the Herald continued to cling to the hull of the larger vessel, using the frigate as cover buying herself the time that it took for the wreckage of the sunward frigates to arrive, tearing into the wounded frigate which the Herald shadowed, and sowing chaos into the smallcraft that had remained to try and defend their kin.
In this cloud of debris, the Herald began her drunken dance in earnest once more, weaving between misshapen twisted ruins of the enemy vessels. Antimatter from her cannons and packet rifles tore into the enemy forces, those unlucky enough to near the Herald were bled by arcing plasma or the inferno of her engines. Slowly the drifting cloud of debris grew, illuminated by glittering secondary explosions as crippled ships suffered critical powerplant failures, or as guided munitions failed to navigate the debris and detonated prematurely.
Eventually, the Herald's dance came to an end, the final fleeing frigate and a host of small craft having been torn apart by the Herald's R88 and a relatively brief engagement, leaving a third mass of glowing, glittering graves in the Herald's wake.
The mining platforms left undefended save for token forces in the sunward portions of the system were visited, greeted with further pyrotechnics, and left drifting in their own stellar clouds, while the planet-side installations on the metallic planetoids were obliterated from above leaving irradiated craters in the wake of the Herald's passing.
Soon the system was as quiet as the Herald herself.
As the Herald made it's meandering path back toward the cathedral station, revisiting her previous handiwork to comb for any potential survivors, Unit 00000002 spoke up, "You're right... Of course. I will try to make the most of this opportunity. It would be a shame for all of this to have been for nothing."
As the Herald neared the cathedral station it's marred architectural beauty coming into view a moment of curiosity was shared between the two artificial women. Had their companions fared as well as they in their tasks? Who would be providing the welcome to their return? Soon enough they would see.
Cathedral Station – Ore Loading Bay
Silence and cacophony, they intertwined within the space between void and the torn metal shell of the station. A breach was cut through the shutters which had once protected the ore loading bay of the station, atmosphere rushed for the breach in a horrific sound of decompression which gave way to a hush, then nothing, emptiness, as the gaseous fuel of life dissipated into the vacuum. Within the ore loading bay stood the light-armor clad Lorath woman, her masked gaze set upon the nearest hatch which led into the station interior. Another cut brought on by dazzling brilliant light was her key to entry, as melted locking bolts fell to the deckplate, before the hatch itself was kicked in by an armored boot. Korr’ih made her entry, as emergency shutters slammed shut behind her, sealing her within the station. It was of no concern, it was where she needed to be.
Korr’ih’s work was simple yet defined, she was to kill. She was to kill everyone who came into her field of vision, she was to kill everyone who hid, she was to leave the station lifeless and empty. Not a word would be read nor spoken of her actions, nor the actions of her comrades. A pang of guilt struck her as she saw the first denizen of the universe she had intruded on. Her guilt was brought on by a distant memory, a recollection, and a self-judgement that was inescapable; she was the villain to the person she looked upon, and all those who he knew.
Who Korr’ih looked upon was known in the local terms as a ‘Greaseblood’, a cybernetically enhanced humanoid, with an affinity for technology and the like. He was aged sixty-seven of his expected hundred-thirty-year lifespan. A father of three, who he had left lightyears away, a grandfather to six, and a husband to a wife who had been vaporized by a burst of the Herald’s weapons during one of the initial strikes on the outlying asteroid mining outposts along the way to the station. He liked his work, he was fond of his life, even though his bones ached with the passing years, even though the pay was not as good as some of the other Hagblood clans had to offer, he had been comfortable. It came to an end as he tried to turn and run from the unknown figure, who placed a single shot from a carbine through his skull, sending brain and circuits spattering onto the deck, ripping life from him, ripping away what he had been, was, and would ever possibly become. Fate had been cheated, the flow of the universe for that one man was heartlessly diverted by an intruder which should have never been.
Korr’ih’s armored boot was the next thing the deceased miner had contact with, as the Lorath flipped the humanoid over, looking at what was left of his face, then the rest of his body. Humanoids, standard bipedal body types. Red blood. Pink flesh. Just the same as any other. Korr’ih rationalized, as a pale blue glow surged from the thrusters on the back end of her Gust armor, sending her skimming along the deck plate, in search of the next target, the next person, who she would end. As she moved through the station, she spoke to the familiar voice which chimed in her ear; ”Mister Lewis, they live, they bleed, they die. Just like us.”
A little over a dozen miners were the easy pickings for Korr’ih, as she expended a single round on each of them, easily ending their lives with a precision discharge of her railgun carbine. They died quickly enough, easily enough. What gave some resistance were the security personnel of the station, those which took up what arms they had to challenge the intruder, to try to protect those who were left, and as Korr’ih ventured deeper into the station, she found that the security personnel fought more tenaciously. Several times she had to rely upon the pistol-gripped grenade launcher she carried, for the sake of expedience, as she broke their ranks with a burst of superheated plasma, or the sudden release of radiation, heat, and concussive force of a miniature antimatter device. What she brought were the tools of war, as opposed to the shotguns and submachine guns of a security force.
It was not long before Korr’ih found why the security personnel had stood their ground so fiercely, it came as she breached a hatch, revealing a bunkroom which was huddled with the families of the miners she had already killed. Screams. Screams were the first thing she heard the moment she opened the hatchway. They would be the last thing she would hear from that chamber as well, as she shouldered the plasma rifle she had brought with her. In a single fluid motion, she set the weapon, primed it, and discharged, releasing a steady cohesive bolt of superheated gaseous matter, with enough kinetic energy to rip apart matter, and to convert to enough heat to flash boil several gallons of water at once. For a humanoid type body, the discharge was an abrupt and near-instant end as bodies were reduced to moist globs of ash and char.
A faint scream of hysteria was heard from another chamber further through the corridor Korr’ih stalked, as she left the room which was rich with the stink of burnt flesh and hair. She followed the sound, her steps steady and deliberate. Korr’ih was careful, but no amount of preparedness that existed in her mind would have prepared her for what she trodden upon, as a sudden rush of glowing orange script flourished out from where her boot made contact with the deck, the lighted writing originated from hastily scrawled smears of blood which had been hidden from the normal visible range, tucked away between probability of photon behavior. When Korr’ih made her step, the written words spoke, and they spoke in fire, as molecules of air were gripped and shaken, sudden, forceful, abrupt, as combustion took place, exploding outward and enveloping the Lorath commander.
Cathedral Station, Exterior by Antennae Array
Taking cover amid the greebles and indentations, Danny watched small drones get deployed - shooting out from thin holes and skimming over the surface of the station towards the guns, inspecting what had been placed there. The blonde watched them land and skitter under the housing. His thumb sat on the detonator, and with a squeeze, the three coilguns erupted into balls of white. The barrels flew away in arcs while the turret housing had been punctured from underneath - ferrous slugs drifting away from the gun's magazine.
The news that there was nothing too strange about the occupants of the station took a weight from his shoulders. "One gun bank's down; I should have nothing to worry about then." Danny said, looking ahead to assess where his next satchel would go. Communications arrays weren't just skin deep - as the antennae can be replaced easily enough, but the computers transmitting and receiving data beneath the layers of hull armouring were considerably harder to come by.
Jimmying a round exhaust port open, Danny pushed an explosive charge through the hole using the scabbard of his sword, stuffing it in. Withdrawing and boosting his way towards the "starboard" side guns of the orbital structure - and pursued by low-flying drones, he squeezed the detonator again. The flash shot upwards, parallel to the antennae before the bulkhead bulged from underneath, ripped open by the blast.
The chips and boards from computer systems and processors drifted through the air from a tangled crater. The repair and assessment drones wobbled before they lost control. A nasty-looking one drifted past Danny before smacking into the turret behind him. Ducking beneath a swinging barrel tracking the Herlad, and approaching the housing with a bomb in hand, the rogue laid the bombs one by one. "Radio's out," he said, beelining for a launch bay's field generator.
As the last of the coilguns went up in white lights and twisted metal, Danny placed a charge just below the docking bay's field projectors. He had a plan to swoop right in amidst the chaos when the life support went sour and the field keeping the life inside went out for the docking area. Blast shutters couldn't outrun a determined sapper. "Korr'ih, I'm about to smash their garage door open, and I'm going in." He waited for a reply, or an acknowledgement. Nothing came. She was either focussing on what Robert presumed was beautiful carnage - or something had gone wrong.
In either case, Danny's job was to press on - literally.
Cathedral Station – Central Junction
Blaring, shrill, nerve rattling. Those were some of the ways to describe the sound that permeated Korr’ih’s consciousness in the split second following the explosion which encompassed her, loud enough to drown out the communication line, and rattling enough to keep her from paying mind to the shudder of the station which was out of sync with the explosion that had nearly incinerated her. Onboard computers within her Gust armor had performed their duty in safeguarding her from the hurt the outside world would threaten her with. While the trap was unseen, the effects of it were entirely within the sensory limits of the armor, which had worked with the add-on emitter suite which Korr’ih had been wise enough to affix into place. When she was encompassed with the spontaneously generated burst of heat and flame, a barrier of electromagnetism surged into place, diverting the bulk of the blast around and away from her. She was safe, as safe as could be expected at least, as sweat coated her within the confines of the protective gear, and another shrill sound came from a storage container mounted onto her back.
“ARE YOU TRYING TO GET US KILLED? YOU CLUMSY STUPID BITCH.” It was the voice of a stowaway, which had been dragged along for the infiltration of the station. “IF YOU DID NOT HAVE ME IN THIS BOX, I COULD HAVE TOLD YOU TO STOP LUMBERING AROUND YOU FUCKING IDIOT.” The avian creature exclaimed, in the traditional way of the Lorthet.
“Yet, you’re yelling at me just fine right now.” Korr’ih countered, as she finally untensed, her muscles straining beneath the armor in pure reflex. There was no way to simply be bathed in fire without having some reflexive response to the very real possibility of being burned alive.
“BECAUSE I THOUGHT YOU WERE NOT SO STUPID AND BLIND.” Relied the Lorthet, before the atmospheric seal of the container was breached, and the feathered creature bounded from the box, fluttering its pathetic little wings in an attempt to slow its decent, which it did fairly competently. After hitting the deck plate, the Lorthet fluffed out their feathers, craning its head for a moment, stretching with the welcome sensation of being released from the storage container it had been stuffed into. Tiny beady black eyes shifted within their sockets, framed by a ring of brilliant yellow feathers which swept back into a tiny little tufted crown upon its head. Rich green and blue shimmered and shined beneath the harsh florescent light of the hallway, lights that somehow survived the explosion. Thick scaled talons scraped at the deck, touching upon a charred black scrawl of burnt blood. “Stop being a stupid broad, use more than your fucking eyes.” It scolded, before clattering its short curved beak, then waddling down the hallway, its whole body moving and swaying with its stride... until it scampered into a vent shaft.
“Fucking bastard.” Growled Korr’ih, as she found herself watching for too long, lulled into security by the rather absurd appearance of the Lorthet, forgetting just how quickly they could escape if given the opportunity. A question came to mind; just what was it going to do now that it was roaming around? It was a thought she did not linger on for long, as she noticed a soft tone in her ear; the sound of a missed transmission which she replayed. It was Danny, and he had news that was a mix of welcome and troubling, as she quickly opened a communication line.
“Mister Lewis, check your fire.” Korr’ih spoke sternly, as she started back down the corridor again. “Your job is to guarantee Herald a safe docking situation, focus on that, we do not need internal detonation of demolition charges.” As if to serve as a counter-point, she plucked an anti-personnel explosive from a bandolier, before she threw the device into the room where she had heard the hysterical exclamations prior to being bathed in a conflagration. She felt it was necessary to return the favor, as the door sealed, and the chamber was bathed in a wash of superheated plasma.
“Korr’ih to Herald.” She started, as she found a lift shaft, which she took off into, the thrusters of her armor removing the need to wait for a lift car to handle traversing between decks. “Robot, the PSC is having limited impact deeper into the station. Advise caution, however, advance on the station and coordinate with Mister Lewis to dock once I signal all clear. Korr’ih out.”
While ascending, Korr’ih found that the majority of the station was comprised of refinery equipment as she peered at each deck through the open-air lift-shaft while she progressed; ore processing machines, slag reprocessing, foundries, and other substantial assets essential to material handling. She let the sensors of her Gust take in the surrounding sights, cataloging what could be identified, and entering structural analyses of things that could not. Somewhere within the industrial tangle, there were assets the Herald could use, somewhere in the mess, there were the pieces they needed to make the Herald whole, and return to where they came.
Upon the end of her ascent, Korr’ih found a section of lift shaft which was enclosed, and even armored. Sliding shutters had sealed the shaft exit from the deck it was meant to grant access to. At a glance, Korr’ih knew the shutters were far more robust than those which protected the ore reception bay she had infiltrated not too long prior. They were beyond the means of her plasma saber to effectively cut through, and it left her with little other option than to apply a degree of excess. Propelling herself back down the shaft several levels, Korr’ih loaded her grenade launcher before she used the armor she wore to steady her aim. It came with a pull of the trigger, a subtle ‘Boop’ of sound, before she scurried out of the lift shaft, through one of the open-air sections. It was a wise decision, as matter interacted with antimatter, atoms annihilated atoms, releasing a surge of radiation and heat, enough to make the station’s atmosphere into a forceful mass of force as breathable air was rendered into superheated plasma, weak metal was turned into globs of accelerated melted shrapnel, and the blast shutters were forced in on themselves creating a breach.
Cathedral Station – Operations Deck
Korr’ih’s arrival on the deck came with light and fire as the Lorath commander slipped through the breach she had made in the blast shutters. From the moment she arrived, she was again tensed, prepared, ready, and it seemed the station had much the same response.
From the ceiling, bulkheads, and deck plates, small turrets emerged from their stand-by positions. Gleaming black metal was knitted with screws, bolts, and welds, formed into an assortment of various antipersonnel weapons. Barrels spun, strange pronged protrusions glowed to life, and pivoting mounts whirled to face the intruder. With the appearance of the weapons, a thought crossed the Lorath woman’s mind; could she truly be upset by such a development? Could she truly be troubled by what she had wrought upon herself? No, she certainly could not, there was no reason to be angered by the encounter, nor reason to fear, she knew what she had embarked upon, and she was ready to face the path of her endeavors.
It was jarring, the impact of hardened steel against alloyed laminated plate, a dampening layer did help to disperse the force of the impact, but it only did so much when there were hundreds of impacts which came so suddenly. Against such a volley of projectiles, and soon a flurry of ionized particle discharges which arced against her armored body, Korr’ih had little option but to retreat behind the blast shutter she had just breached. Once she had gained cover, the onslaught paused, but it did not take a genius to know that the weapons were still there, that they were still waiting.
Outside of the situation Korr’ih was in, yet very much involved, were the activities of scientists and scholars. Questions of physiology, psychology, theology, they all intermingled into a topic of importance; xenopsychology, a study of alien thought processes and behaviors. From an observational perspective, Korr’ih’s situation was one where several options existed within ‘rational thought’ exercised by many humanoid species. Rational thought would suggest that finding an alternative route would be ideal, a path of least resistance Rational thought would suggest that applying an alternative tactic such as a decoy or using supporting fire could be called for. Rational thought would also state that murdering no less than sixty-eight civilians in one operational deployment would be something to be frowned upon. By measure of the ‘rational thought’ exercised by some humanoid species; Korr’ih was distinctively ‘in the wrong’. However, despite the governing reasoning behind the psychological motivations for many humanoid species, it did not change the fact that Korr’ih was of the Lorath species, of the Fyunnen caste, a far departure from ‘human’, including her thought process.
A steady hand slipped into an armored compartment, grasping upon a sealed vial, gripping it gingerly as if handling a delicate piece of art, Korr’ih slipped the vial into a port on the shoulder of her Gust. A gentle slow ‘hiss’ sounded as pressure shifted within the vial, and a trickle of fluids entered Korr’ih’s bloodstream. What Korr’ih’s psychology told her was that she had an obligation, what her psychology told her was that she was an instrument of the will of her people, what her psychology told her was that her flesh, blood, and the armor around her were simply not enough and she needed to be more for the sake of overcoming what stood before her. When the liquid mingled with her blood, and crossed the barrier between that blood and her brain, her cognitive thoughts spoke anew; she was everything she needed to be.
Korr’ih’s emergence from behind the blast shutter was sudden, abrupt, and violent. As her beating heart rattled within her ears, Korr’ih’s hands moved steadily, as her eyes darted between objects in her field of vision, quickly marking target after target. Muzzle flashes, bullets, they were within her scope of vision in those fractions of seconds as she pulled the trigger of her rifle and advanced as she forced her legs to push beyond their physical limits, only being supported by the augmentative support of the armor she wore. Fear of injury was purged from her, as absolute pristine certainty gripped her. It was pure clarity as she struck her mark, time and time again. Dense projectiles of ferrite cut through the air at over sixteen-thousand feet per second, ripping into their destinations, causing chunks of metal to fly apart, and sending moving machinery thrashing and writhing impotently.
Shot after shot, hit after hit, not just against her targets, but against her own body. Korr’ih felt something, hot, sharp, intense. A distant whisper of fear cried out, but was silenced, silenced by the sudden anger she felt in that pain, as she advanced further. Five seconds, it was a small eternity to Korr’ih, but that was the brief moment that it took for Korr’ih to punch through the defenses set upon her. Stepping past the threshold of the defended cloister with a forceful kick to the hatch at the end of the hallway, Korr’ih exited the deathtrap as her rich red blood spattered upon the deck after it had trickled its way from her torso and over the surface of her armor.
A pause, a respite, long enough for sanity to take hold as Korr’ih drew a sharp breath, realizing the source of pain as she removed a small case from the back end of her bandolier. She pried open the case, pulling a small canister from it which she pressed against, and into, her wound before it frothed and foamed with a patch that not only sealed the wound, but the damaged section of armor from at least leaking atmosphere. She knew there was every possibility she was hemorrhaging internally, but she was not in a moment to worry over it, not as a pair of personnel emerged from a heavy hatchway ahead of her.
Korr’ih’s eyes studied the strange humanoids, dressed in a colorful regalia, adorned with braided bands of gold, topped with tall caps that even had a plume. They looked simply ridiculous in her thoughts, garish even. Her thoughts tickled her, enough to the point where a laugh sounded through the mask of her armor, an outright laugh, likely fueled by the drugs which coursed through her veins, but there was a truth behind her jocularity. What made her laugh was not just the uniforms, but the fact that those garish outfits would be the last thing those people would wear before they would be dead.
What they saw was a bloodied, pock-marked, scorched, torn, and diminutive figure clad in a matte black armor, laughing, in what they could only understand as likely a delirium, a madness, it had to be. What they looked upon was a rabid animal, some sort of irrational creature addled by some sort of insanity or ill spirit. Words were exchanged between the pair, assurances, encouragements, whatever the words they were irrelevant in comparison to those which came next. With outstretched arms, they spoke, and what followed was a surge of will and determination which gripped upon the threads that knit their universe. They pulled upon the tapestry, changing it, reweaving it to their whim as the space between them and the intruder became impassible… then, the space curved, twisted, churned, before something lanced out from it. A thread of probability had been grasped, the likelihood of a linkage between two points of space and time had been formed, creating a bridge between a point on the exterior of their barrier, and a distant star, as a pulse of radiation hit the intruder in a flash that only lasted a millisecond.
A millisecond, it was all it took to rip the exterior Korr’ih’s Gust apart, laminated plate bubbled and exploded, supporting plates glowed white hot before succumbing to ash. Late, but vigilant, was the effort of her armor to protect her, but in a display of exertion the generator of her armor popped and fizzled just like the front plates as it gave out under the millisecond onslaught of a pulsar’s energy pulled across space and time.
I can’t see! I can’t fucking see! I can’t see! Was the first rational thought beyond a split second of mind-numbing dread, dread that she had failed, dread that she was dead. There was pain however, pain told her she was alive, pain told her there was still something around her. She knew her eyes were open, she could still feel her eyelids, and in a struggle of fevered panic she ripped the hood from her armor, which surrendered not with an unlatch, but simply crumbling apart. Her flesh was reddened, scorched, the armor did well enough to keep the radiation exposure beneath lethal levels, but she was still burned, still seared. Both of her rifles had become a twisted mess of metal and plastic composites, as had the plasma saber she carried. In that instant, she was practically naked against the force that the two locals presented against her. There was only one thing she could think to do, as she drew breath to pray, she saw something that made her prayer halt in her throat as she found a greater desire to curse.
A mass of plump avian flesh and feather descended from the ventilation shaft above the pair of locals, landing squarely upon the cap she wore. It was an unsteady perch for the Lorthet, as the cap fell off, leaving the Lorthet to flutter its stubby wings and perch upon the skull of the woman. It gripped for balance, digging a long talon into the eye-socket of the suddenly startled creature the Lorthet would call a ‘Maggie’, and another talon found purchase within her ear canal as screams filled the antechamber.
Uncertainty and doubt gripped the other ‘Maggie’, who turned to see his comrade, and friend, being used as a perch by some unknown feathered fat and stupid looking creature. He raised his hand, reweaving the spell he had her aid to bring into being mere moments before, it would be weaker, he knew that, but it would be enough to kill something so stupid looking, so absurd looking.
Screams sounded from the Maggie perch, shrill screams of frightened panic, the kind of panic that could only be brought on by having a length of hardened keratin tickling a brain. Abruptly, and suddenly, the scream stopped as the Maggie raised her arm just the same as her comrade, and from it lanced a single release of energy which entered between the eyes of the person she trusted with her life, and exited the back of his skull in a flurry of pink. She wept, she wept out of raw fear, the fear of being a passenger in one’s own body. She did not have to dwell on the fear long, as she brought a single finger beside her head, and almost comically, she put a short ‘Pop’ of energy into her own brain.
Hopping off the Maggie that was dead before she hit the floor, the Lorthet landed on the deck, before preening. “Stupid people, stupid people everywhere.” It mumbled.
Korr’ih was left to stare, and watch, as the small creature began to dip its curved beak into the flesh of the Maggie it had perched upon, ripping into it, and eating wet little chunks of flesh. It was something surreal, terrifying, yet familiar, from something long ago and elsewhere. There was a reason why the Lorthet were treated as a menace, but it had been forgotten, forgotten as ‘things changed’, then they were only pests.
It took a moment before Korr’ih had found her legs, and she got up from where she had stumbled. She spared only a single ‘Thanks’ to the Lorthet, who paid her no mind, as she opened the hatch that the pair of ‘Maggies’ failed to secure. Within was the operations center of the station, where a fat, old, and absurdly dressed man was seated in a central position. He looked at Korr’ih, and laughed just as she had moments before, laughing at how absurd she looked in her sundered armor, with burnt exposed flesh, and tufts of charred hair peeking from around the torn headpiece she wore. He was seated behind a barrier, much like the one it took two of the other ‘Maggies’ to make. He raised his arm, aiming to perform the same trick it took two of the others to perform.
He did not get the chance, as Korr’ih’s hand grasped upon one of the revolvers that was nestled behind her, untouched by the surge of stellar fury which had left her in dire shape. Its obsidian grip filled her hand, familiar, certain, as it came free from its holster so kindly. Her thumb brought back the hammer in a fluid motion, as chambers rotated into place in a familiar ‘click’. Embellishments upon the metal and the polished stonework that filled her hand surged to life, as prayers long ago spoken took root, and made their long-ago spoken wish be known. Hammer struck primer, primer flourished to flame, flame sparked a mixture of fast-burning chemicals which propelled a single slug of soft jacketed metal down a forged and twisted shaft which emblazoned the will of the weapon upon the otherwise unimportant piece of metal. It found its mark, in the skull of the ‘Maggie’ who thought himself so mighty, his last thought, before the back of his head erupted as brilliant white poured out from the exit wound, and the cavities of his skull before he collapsed as a hollowed husk of char.
Korr’ih’s hand shook, as the events she just endured had caught up with her. It was a catharsis as a tear rolled down a scorched pink-hued cheek which was once pale white. Her shuddering hand secured her weapon, before she fumbled around for the spare communication device tucked away in her armor. She thumbed a switch before she spoke.
“Operations center secured. This station is ours. Mister Lewis, please come to my location, you are needed.” With those words spoken, the Commander collapsed.
Cathedral Station, Main Hangar
There was a bit of radio silence before Danny got back into contact with Korr'ih - the sound of bumps heard before a grate could be heard clattering loudly on his end as it fell from the vent he was crawling through. "My bad. I'll get the Herald in and get back to you ASAP." Marking Korr'ih's position down as the next thing to do, he looked about where the maintenance passage had lead.
Danny poked cautiously, keeping an eye out for threats. The charred and ripped bodies strewn about the hangar - a result of either Korr'ih or the Herald's bombardments - barely moved him. If anything Robert needed to compliment Korr'ih and the Robot for being thorough when he caught up with them. Sticking close to the walls as he slithered out, he eyeballed the hangar's area, checking out a spot for the Herald. A quick recall of the ship's dimensions showed there was plenty of room. There was a smaller vessel the rogue was entirely unfamiliar with nearby, but it could be pushed about.
However, getting the ship inside would involve clearing it in. Danny had ensured the main guns wouldn't be a problem for the ship, neither would a distress signal (and then some), but he had reservations about the hangar's automated security. He was especially quizzical at the stone façade on the back wall, and as his gaze travelled up the masonry, Danny spotted windows with a good view of the docking bay. The views protruded from a tower, its main floor spreading out and integrating with the ceiling - a feat impossible with archaic techniques of construction. At the foot of the control tower was a hollow leading towards an elevator, but the doors were stuck and the elevator car seemed to be ajar - reeking terribly of ash and smoke.
"Herald, I'm investigating a control tower inside a hangar on the station." Danny said, Brushing fingertips across the tower's walls and grunting, the rogue took to scaling the structure, boosting upwards. Fingertips and toes wedged themselves into cracks in the ageing stone around the window, and the rogue couldn't help but wonder - who would decorate a ship like this, and moreover - why? Stone, wood, and other natural materials were for a house, or the furniture in a Captain's office. "I'll see if I can get you cleared to land. Stay on the line..."
He took the window by its sill, swivelled and kicked through the glass. The interior of the control room was a mess - much like the rest of the station so far. Spotting a highly relaxed (and burnt) fellow at the controls of a console Danny was unfamiliar with which was still blinking, the blonde dislodged the corpse with a muttered 'excuse me' and a heave ho, taking their place and examining what was available.
"Alright, I have visual and connection on some sort of aerospace traffic control system," as he examined the interface and watched the letters and runes go by, the interface of his WIND started making sense of it all - replacing strings and phrases of gibber with words he could read like 'Clearances', 'Close Range Radar', and 'Defence Controls'. All useful things. "Patching you through..."
With a little guidance, Danny dove into the traffic control system, disabling a series of small point defence weapons which lined the Hangar's exit, and officially letting the Herald dock - giving it a cheeky name of 'TEST TEST 123' as a designation to please the Clearance system's name requirements. With the rest able to take care of itself and the Herald given a clear way in, he stood up and looked into the structure of the space station through a cracked sliding door. The operations level wasn't far away - and along the way, Danny became suspicious of the amount of wood integrated into the space station's construction.
Even if it was intended to decorative, it was a bit much.
Herald - Unknown (Eldruid) System - Cathedral Station Proximity
As the Herald continued her orbit around the gas giant toward the cathedral station she was once again filled with a largely unbroken silence. Only the occasional plume of plasma signifying a retrograde engine burn to slow her approach to the station in preparation for docking indicated her continued function. In this silence, the Herald listened. She listened to the scattered radio-frequency noise lingering in the system from her, she listened to the occasional burst of communication from her allies upon and within the cathedral station, and she listened for what was not found: survivors.
With the Herald's attention focused on watching cooling clouds of wreckage, the drifting graves the last testament to those who had lived, toiled, and dreamed in this place, a second lesser silence was conveniently ignored. This was the lack of conversation between the two active occupants of the Herald. Fragments of memory and an almost instinctual certainty suggested that in other times there would have been a near constant stream of conversation between Unit 00000002 and her companion. In this moment there was nothing to talk about that was desired to talk about. Without a greater pool of knowledge to draw upon their topics were limited, and of those limited topics most were painful, largely due to the helpless state that they found themselves in.
After all what good would it do Unit 00000002 to talk about Taela? The constant reminded of her injured state sat silently in place, the frozen pod containing the last hopes that someone else would remember who Unit 00000002 had been. More than merely the desire to reclaim some of her identity was the desire to see someone who she knew as a friend, one of few, once more. Uncomfortable in this silence, Unit 00000002 once again reviewed the sensor information as it streamed in updating second by second as the electromagnetic emissions reached the Herald and found no comfort in the knowledge that nothing was out of the ordinary and that none in her wake had attempted to play dead either by design or merely by accident having been temporarily disabled but not sufficiently damaged to ensure death in the Herald's passing.
Still without comfort and with the anxiety lingering Unit 00000002 briefly considered terminating their emotional function to bring clarity and ensure a pure focus upon the mission. While it was simple to see that this action would ease the discomfort, it was also clear that it would merely put Unit 00000002 into a state of idleness as she and "Kit" closed the last few thousand kilometers to the station. Instead of choosing this stillness and further silence, Unit 00000002 chose to pray.
She gave her quiet thanks to the Goddess; thankful for their survival in this new reality, thankful for their relative good health and condition, thankful for their opportunity to overcome and learn from the problems which they encountered. She expressed her thanks for the foresight and dedication of the Goddess' children enabling their success, and for the Goddess' watchful guidance in a foreign place. Unit 00000002 then spoke of her fears, of rejection, of ostracism. She spoke of her fear of losing those who she cared for, those few friends she treasured, and those who she respected, companions in arms and purpose. She expressed her hopes that not only would they succeed through their diligence and efforts but also that they might find contentment and joy in their futures. In the end what she desired was welfare and happiness for those with her, and those who would follow.
Settling into a thoughtful silence as Unit 00000002 wondered what more she should say a directed message from the station played in her head informing of the limited effect of the PSD within the station. Refocusing upon the station before her Unit 00000002 broke out of the Herald's languid orbital trajectory angling off away from the station with a sudden plume of plasma sending the Herald hurtling into one of Unit 00000002's preferred randomized manoeuvres unwilling to risk the Herald falling victim to the activities of those who might remain alive aboard the station. It would be a great failing to allow complacency to destroy their future.
Making the approach to the station little by little, Unit 00000002 scanned the architecture of the station, looking for thermal signatures or visual silhouettes in the arches, arcades, facades, and spires of the station, ensuring that no one had managed to slip past the Commander and Mr. Hanley-Lewis-Forde as their performed their tasks and into the relative safety of a spacewalk where they might potentially surprise the invaders.
Settling into an erratic orbital pattern around the station, Unit 00000002 waited only a few minutes before the all-clear was given from within. The station had been purged, and a hangar had been secured. Referencing but not relying on the station's guides, Unit 00000002 navigated the Herald into the station before coming to a careful stop within. Keeping the weapons active, particularly the vent strips and the arm mounted packet rifles, carefully switched to plasma rather than antimatter munitions, Unit 00000002 transferred control of the Herald to "Kit" before disconnecting from the ship's system herself.
While not necessarily needed to venture into the station herself, Unit 00000002 wanted to ensure that she was on active standby assuming that her presence was needed for any tasks within, be they resource or information acquisition or any other task which may present itself. Opening her eyes Unit 00000002 briefly cast her vision about the command compartment of the Herald before reporting over the communication line, "The Herald has been docked within the station. We are presently maintaining an active vigil and are on standby for the next phase of our operation."
Cathedral Station, Operations Room
The sound of metal smashing against metal could be heard, followed by creaking - then a grunt. A door in the far end of the room slowly wedged open, a jimmying bar poking through before Danny's hands wormed in to push the rest of the door open. Twirling the pry bar before putting it away, he advanced into the room. Along the way there,
♫ Axiom Verge - Otherworld ♫
"I will say this - these guys knew how to decorate..." Danny said, boot atop the singed remains of one of the 'Maggies' as he cast his gaze around the chaos of the operations room. The stink of ozone lingered in the air, but the rogue was unsure of the cause. As he passed by a bank of bridge consoles, he saw Korr'ih slumped against the wall. Danny cursed and hustled over. The bird was nearby too, so he swatted the ball of feathers and sociopathy out of the way to make room for his medkit and its contents In particular, he wasn't sure he had enough burn cream, disinfectant, stimulant, and gel bandages for what he was working with, and Korr'ih would need additional attention when she was back on the Herald.
In a triage, the Lorath woman would be considered a priority - the extent of their injuries meant if they were unanswered for much longer her chances of survival dwindled. "...multiple burns, several impact wounds, some internal bleeding, bruising all around..." As Danny assessed the damage upon the captain, he noticed a contrast between skin under her armour - and skin exposed to the elements. It was though she was blasted with an ultraviolet light at close range, or found time to work on her tan without taking off her armour. The former was much more likely - but his train of thought was interrupted by a peck on the back of his hand.
Driven to ire, Robert summarised his thoughts eloquently in grumble: "Fuck off y' flying pillow!" Looking at the owl-like creature, he decided to give it something to do, "make yourself useful and search the bodies for change or something." He pointed to one of the Maggies - whose head had been jellied by a large calibre pistol. Looking back down, Danny noticed that his other hand had wandered up Korr'ih's neck, and he lifted it away to resume applying antiseptic salve to a burn across her shoulder where the armour had simply turned to ash and char. She -is- hot though. Robert nudged within the man's head.
Smoking hot. Literally. Danny replied dryly - the amount of damage he'd examined made his stomach turn - but it was all part of the job. Look, when this is over I'll take us to the most reputable house of ill repute the Lorath have - or something. A jingle rung out a as coins rolled across the floor, a silvery one coming to rest by a jar of ointment. Danny tried reaching for it, but the Lorthet snapped it up and trundled back to their growing pile of ill gotten gains with an annoyed flap. No promises.
Soon, Korr'ih was in a much better state than when Danny found them, and he figured it was time to examine the consoles to see if there was anything worth gleaning from it all. The elaboration in what was left of the operations room was highly flammable - wooden-framed chairs were where they really shouldn't be, veneers and layers of varnish and gold-leaf scorched off while the cushions were blackened. Upon one such chair at a fizzling console, Danny had to plant himself down and get to business, relaying what he'd seen, and reading the interface before him.
"Sitrep," Danny relayed to the sole occupant of the Herald, "Korr'ih's pretty banged up. I provided some medical aid - and I'll need some assistance getting her back for further treatment. The station belongs to us, and I don't envy whoever's cleaning this up after-" The chair he was sitting on creaked and it was all the warning Danny had before it fell apart beneath him. From the floor, he gave the Lorthet the stink eye to shut their hooty heckling up before getting up and continuing: "Anyway - I don't envy whoever's cleaning this up. Lotta dead bodies, most of them ridiculous looking."
Looking back down at Korr'ih and realising how large she was, he made an addendum. "See if there's a trolley we can take Korr'ih on in the Herald or on the way here? We need to move them carefully."
Herald - Command Compartment
"Acknowledged Sir. I will be on location momentarily."
Upon receiving the report from Mr. Hanley-Lewis-Frode, who coincidentally was as of that moment her acting CO, Unit 00000002 disconnected from the access jacks in her seat leaving Kit in charge of the Herald's safety. Releasing herself from her seat's harness, Unit 00000002 pulled herself around the edge of her seat, gently kicking off and swimming the length of the command compartment through the atmospheric fluid before cycling the door and letting herself into the rest of the Herald proper. As the Herald's systems reclaimed the escaped atmospheric fluid in tandem with the Command Compartment once again beginning to drain in preparation for the Commander's treatment, Unit 00000002 progressed to the airlock, trading her pilot's helm for her Wind's hood and taking a Deshe'vo along just in case she might need to reaffirm that one of the locals was indeed dead.
Unknown (Eldruid) System - Cathedral Station, Interior
As the Herald's airlock cycled the smallest of the forms to emerge from its shelter descended to the floor of the hangar below before skipping off into the depths of the Cathedral Station. Long legged loping motions took the small form through the halls of the station quickly and after applying a bit of logic and the information gleaned by their translation efforts Unit 00000002 was soon encouraging a door to allow her entry to a sealed medical wing. With a bit more care Unit 00000002, slowed as much as she dared, nosing around the comparatively stark chambers until she found that which she sought; a gurney. Thankfully this alien existence held a recognizable design, and hopefully, it would be of a respectable construction standard. After a moment determining how best to hold the object with a single hand so as to leave her weapon free, Unit 00000002 resumed her bounding progress working her way toward the center of the station.
Upon arriving in the operations center of the station, no time was given to observe the oddly dressed bodies, nor the broken chair. Instead, Unit 00000002 laid the collapsed gurney out beside the commander ready to transfer the incapacitated woman with the help of Mr. Hanley-Lewis-Forde. After the Commander had been secured aboard the Herald and in the care of the command chair's medical functions, Unit 00000002 supposed that the task of material and information acquisition would begin in the final moments before their departure from this strange place, and the culmination of their mission.
Unknown (Eldruid) System – Cathedral Station – Operations Center
Dreamless sleep found Korr’ih in the wake of her injuries, dreamless, but certainly not painless. Beyond pain, there was a feeling of exhaustion, thirst, and nausea. They were pressing sensations, breaking through her injured state, and even drawing her back into consciousness as she saw the gurney set down beside her, and the Robot which was away from the only context that Korr’ih had seen her in since they had crossed over, outside of the cockpit of the Herald. There was a chill, as the air of the room chilled the ointment which was slathered upon her exposed skin, skin that was blissfully thankful for the nanomachine infused salve.
It took a conscious effort to draw the necessary breath to speak, and to release it constructively; “Lewis, the ship, take me to it.” A heavy breath filled the Commander’s lungs; “Before I go into shock.” She added, with urgency. She knew the chill that gripped her was not just the salve upon her skin, but the sensation of blood loss and trauma. “Robot. Salvage the parts we need. Quickly.” Her words were labored, but she managed to say what needed to be said. She knew, with the two she had the good fortune to work beside, there would not be any further need to speak. Korr’ih knew any further words would not be helpful, it was going to be a test of Mister Lewis’ command of emergency medicine which would be the deciding factor in the speed, and likelihood, of her recovery.
Cathedral Station, Operations Room
The blonde nodded at his captain, carefully raising the medical bed off the ground, then taking it with one hand. "I'll catch you back on the Herald," he said some parting words to the robot as he guided the trolley between two of the maggies the Lorthet had rifled through, "see if there's a kitchen on this place and raid it for some victory snacks, once you get the essentials sorted aye?"
With that, he double backed the way he came and down some stairs with a pistol in his off hand, and into the hangar with his charge. As Danny made his way down the hall to the hangar and past a row of singed vending machines, he heard the sound of moaning and someone dragging themselves. The rogue repositioned himself ahead of Korr'ih to meet the source of the noise with his gun, eyes on the floor.
It didn't take long for Danny to confirm his suspicions, spotting someone - probably mining staff - on their hands and knees trying to get to the hangar. It was an admirable feat given Korr'ih's level of destruction and the guy's physical condition, but a mission was a mission; The blonde levelled his pistol at them. "Tough luck, mate." Robert said, popping two shots into the former survivor's head. Danny wasn't even sure if the native understood what he said, but the problem was dealt with - he took Korr'ih into the hangar and up the ramp of the Herald.
The Herald, Command Compartment
Arriving through the airlock with the trolley and collapsing one of the side rails to shift Korr'ih easier, Danny reconfigured her chair into a reclining position parallel to the wounded Lorath. "Got us a big patient here," he announced to 'Kit' as he shifted them onto the gel seating, and tapped a few commands on their chair to encapsulate and begin healing the commander with better advanced picojelly and nanite technology than the blonde could provide in the field.
"She's a tough nut; Got hit by what looks like an instant sunrise." Danny commented as the bed begun doing its work, the sounds of jelly flowing and moving within the capsule as feedback chirps were logging the commander's status. "Maybe their security guys had some kinda superheater weapon or something."
And she kept her shit tight. Robert added as Danny took a seat in his chair, kicking his feet up and supervising Korr'ih's vital signs on his display. Not like any of them mealy-mouthed gold diggers and shirkers I've worked with before.
Like the one woman that who shot us in the head? Danny pondered back. He took Robert's silence as agreement - at least the two men had something to agree on. Watching the signs stabilising and Korr'ih's circulation beginning to return to a normal rhythm, the blonde figured the rest could take care of itself and he could relax. "Say, Kit," Danny said, trying to strike up some idle chatter as he waited on the robot, or any further orders, "I saw some vending machines on the way here, makes me wonder what the local snacks are like, and if they'd survive the return trip or something."
Unknown (Eldruid) System - Cathedral Station - Operations Center
Left to her own devices as Mr. Hanley-Lewis-Forde departed with the Commander, Unit 00000002 was quick to set to work fulfilling the Commander's order. The first task, was the loot the dead. Traversing to the one elaborately dressed collection of carbon and began her rendition of the ancient art of corpse looting. Her primary goal was some form of command credentials, unfortunately, it seemed that anything of note upon the primary option was destroyed in whatever conflagration consumed the body.
This disappointment led Unit 00000002 back toward the relatively whole corpses of the first two oddly garbed individuals that she had seen on the floor, and after a few moments she had acquired a pair of similar key-cards identifying the pair as Erika and Cyril Bluesmile the shared name suggesting to Unit 00000002 that they had either been married or siblings. The detail of their identities was ultimately forgotten as Unit 00000002 pulled a small collection carved baubles from their persons before eventually finding a pair of synthetic leather-like wallets which were cannibalized for carrying relevant information.
Leaving a collection of trinkets scattered across the floor Unit 00000002 idly wiped the bloodstained hands of her Wind on the shirt of the man before standing and setting off in search of the residential wing of the station where she hoped to collect alternative identification credentials so as to be able to have a reliable means of accessing the station's central computing systems. Access which was crucial both to the information collection portion of their mission, as well as to enable efficient collection of materials which the Herald would need for its repairs and return trip.
Unknown (Eldruid) System - Cathedral Station - Residential Wing
Almost every door encountered by Unit 00000002 that would not open featured a card reader in near proximity, into these card readers went one of the two keycards that had been collected by Unit 00000002, and with the authorization held in the inert electronic cards Unit 00000002, could pass. Within these doors were often things of little immediate use, cleaning supplies, laundry facilities, and food storage.
The Unit that Unit 00000002 followed often featured signs of the Commander's passage, sundered doors, charred remains, and drying blood stains. The bodies that were largely whole, were looted for further credentials, and the rooms where multiple individuals had taken shelter were carefully combed. Surviving identification was rare, though with a bit of encouragement many of the charred drawers, trunks, and wardrobes gave way revealing a mixture of personal effects, clothing, and personal computing devices.
These last were of particular note, with Unit 00000002 taking the time to puzzle out the passwords that she could, or in more fortuitous circumstances merely access the unsecured systems to comb for useful data. Rarely were these small systems explored thoroughly, instead, it was quickly determined what sort of patterning the people whose past lives she explored followed and locations of important notes were visited and ransacked before Unit 00000002 moved on.
More lavishly decorated rooms when discovered were thoroughly explored in search of hidden pieces of information which would potentially be of use. In the largest of these rooms, Unit 00000002 discovered a keycard indicating a title which Unit 00000002's translation algorithm interpreted as 'Grand Magician' an odd title, though in such a strange place she supposed she had little by way of context to judge.
Within this room Unit 00000002 discovered documentation indicating a safe room, a place intended to protect the things this man had valued most. Further searching revealed a scrap of paper which had been dropped or perhaps placed beneath the room's large ornamented wooden four post bed. The paper detailed the instructions of accessing the vault and further detailed the means that it would be opened at a later time. The instructions, however, perplexed Unit 00000002 mentioning things being hidden from the eyes of seekers, as well as a section that suggested some form of special guarding or protection intended to keep out intruders.
Troubled by this Unit 00000002 was reminded of the Lorthet's words as well as the occasional inexplicable 'weapons' that were employed against the Herald in her task of turning the system into a mass of floating graves. Deciding it would be unwise to interact with the unknown if such a result was possible Unit 00000002 filed away the knowledge that one of the walls was really a door, and made her trip back to the command center of the station with her collected identification credentials in hand and in mind.
The Herald - Command Compartment
The arrival of Mr. Hanley-Lewis-Fordew as one that 'Kit' had anticipated, and as such the airlock had already been open to admit the pair of the Herald's command crew when they arrived. The cycle of the airlock later and the two were once again in the command compartment, the Commander looking worse for the wear, and the blonde man in a state that seemed to hint at his own mind occupying his attention.
The task of transferring the Commander to the medical bed, which conveniently was also her command chair was a simple one and soon the automated treatment systems were fast at work. The administered medical aid began work on the most severe of the Commander's ailments with pico-jelly IV lines finding their way into her flesh, while other systems set about rapidly attending to her internal bleeding.
Kit mused over how once again Unit 00000002 would have commented on the foresight and steps taken to ensure that this mission succeeded by the Commander's people. Truly they had much to be thankful for. This idle contemplation was distracted by the inquiry of the operations officer seeking social contact, likely in a bid to ease his troubled mind in the face of a near lethal encounter. As such Kit's cheerful voice responded promptly over the compartment's speakers, "From what little we know it is unlikely that anything pre-packaged will survive the trip back. At least not whole. It would be safe to assume that the manufacturers don't exist where we come from, and as such the things made by them would not exist. What they're like, I could not say. The Herald lacks the facilities to properly identify the makeup of foreign food, as such it could be as toxic as it is delicious, we have no way of ensuring it is compatible with your biology.
"I believe it is said that this is 'hungry work' however it would be unfortunate if you were poisoned by local cooking before we returned home." Kit would have offered an empathetic smile, or a pat on the shoulder had she been capable, however, for now, she hoped that the man would content himself with her concern for his well-being.
A notification in Kit's awareness following her speech indicated that Unit 00000002 had acquired administrative credentials for the local system, and asked for Kit to prepare a secure connection with which to probe the local systems for useful data. While steps would be taken to ensure that the local systems were declawed prior to interaction it would not hurt to be careful. Soon, however, the ferrying of useful materials to the Herald would begin, and the final repairs could be performed allowing their departure from the station, and the existence to which they were playing the part of belligerent tourists.
Unknown (Eldruid) System - Cathedral Station
While Kit began the process of picking through the station's information networks, combing over the available data in an isolated sandbox instance so as to avoid any unforeseen malicious digital shenanigans on the part of the local information networks, Unit 00000002 began the process of harvesting, machining, and delivering the components that would be required to repair the critical components of the Herald as well as restore the salvaged components to their initial state so as to not overtax the Herald's systems on the return trip. These components were ferried to the Herald with the help of a blanket padded ore-cart whose contents had been unceremoniously scattered across a wide stretch of one of the processing bays.
Once the mission critical components had been gathered, the task of looting began in earnest with Unit 00000002 gathering up anything that seemed interesting, shiny, or otherwise might be of interest to the others aboard the Herald. This included various samples of the local foodstuffs pilfered from the kitchens in an effort to placate Mr. Hanley-Lewis-Forde.
Slowly an organized and rather extensive selection of jewelry, tools, ornaments, clothing, keys, and some objects whose purpose were not apparent began to accumulate in the proximity of the Herald. These would likely be sorted through by the Commander and Operations officer, and perhaps the Lorthet at their leisure. Perhaps the objects would have some inherent value, however to Unit 00000002 most seemed to be curious uses of various types of matter with no apparent value.
What was valued by Unit 00000002, apart from the various computational devices which were linked to the main system for ease of processing, were books. Every book, magazine, and scrap of paper with writing upon it in the station found its way into Unit 00000002's small hands and thought many were discarded as garbage being little more than reminders or memos for people now dead, a steady collection of written materials began to pile up the collected archives of the people not committed to a digital format carefully transported and set aside for packing.
Unit 00000002 did not know what these volumes entailed however the ones with the less comprehensible subjects called to her, they mentioned harnessing and controlling powers, but none of the methods were of a sort she understood. This only served to make them all the more important to her.
With her task of stripping the station coming to a close sort of stealing the textiles off of the bedding and bodies, Unit 00000002 made her final return to the Herald where her efforts would be directed toward returning the Herald to as close original specifications as possible, and then the sorting of the acquired objects would be carried out in earnest, those determined valueless would be dumped in the hangar and destroyed along with the rest of the station immediately following their departure.
For now it was only a matter of time.
Unknown System (Eldruid) – Herald – Command Compartment
No dreams, no thoughts, no questions, none of those things existed for Korr’ih from the moment she had impacted the deck of the operations center aboard the mining station. Not a single touch of consciousness had graced her, until her seemingly heavy, yet genuinely sore eyelids opened to reveal the yellow-amber of the Lorath woman’s eyes. As the somewhat gentle light of the command compartment filled her vision, a momentary thanks was given for the miracle of sight, most especially after the strike she had sustained, if it could be a strike, it was something that Korr’ih was still attempting to process as she pulled a breath into her lungs, yet she could feel that part of that inhale was assisted by some sort of external stimuli provided by the life support equipment of her command chair. Before she would even speak a word, her eyes moved over her own body, surveying the damage which was still visible, and the invasive assistance provided by the medical equipment which was thankfully automated.
“Mister Lewis.” Korr’ih spoke, a slight rasp to her voice, her throat was dry. In fact, she felt a nagging thirst mingled with a disgusting feeling churning in her gut making her wish to retch. She knew what the sensation was, it was radiation poisoning. In that thought, she knew, she would have been dead if it were not for the equipment available aboard the Herald. “Food is not a priority, making sure we leave before we are detected is of greater concern. What is our status?” She asked, despite the serious topic of her words, her tone was genuine, almost cordial. “We need to gather what we need, and dispose of any sign of our presence… I think, Mister Lewis, you have some more work to do on the station, for the sake of cleaning up after ourselves. Make sure we have obtained everything we’ve come for, then, we dispose of the station, including the vending machines.” She was all business, even as a robotic arm went about carefully peeling away damaged flesh as nanomachine aided healing completed just beneath.
Loading Bay – Herald
As if hitching a ride, which in fact it was, a sudden grasping sensation would set upon the scalp of the numerically titled Robot, it was the waking Lorthet, with a length of cloth tied about its thick neck, and rested upon the back of the Lorthet was a bulge within the cloth, a collection of things which the avian creature found of interest it could only be assumed. “I SEE YOU’VE BEEN BUSY!” Exclaimed the Lorthet, while riding the Robot through the boarding process to enter the interior of the Herald, knowing full well that on its own, it would be unable to enter the ship. “How’s ‘Rocky’ and ‘Slushie’ doing?” Asked the Lorthet, casually, and cruelly, as it occasionally fluttered its pathetic wings to stabilize itself upon the Robot’s head. “Didn’t fuck up while you were flying around, murdering people, did you?” It asked with a genuine and intentional rudeness. “These better all be parts you’re bringing aboard to fix our original problems, not any fuckups you made while zipping around.” It saved those last words, for only after the airlock had cycled allowing entry into the interior of the Herald, as if the Lorthet were aware of some unspoken limit to the Robot’s patience, as it hopped off her, only to peer up at the Robot. “Get to work, this bucket won’t be going anywhere with everyone standing around gawking.”
The Herald - Loading Bay
The second instance of the Lorthet's talons puncturing the synthetic flesh of Unit 00000002's scalp was met in a much more collected manner than the initial experience, however, it was far from pleasant. The query as to the state of 'rocky' and 'slushy' was met with a moment of blank confusion before the response was given politely, "The two are in as good of shape as they can be. Our sortie was successful and no further harm came to the Herald or her contents." The other comments of the Lorthet however, went unanswered as Unit 00000002 set about the task of reassembling and restoring the Herald to a near original state. The answer was obvious, time could be spent speaking, or it could be spent on getting them home. The latter was the obvious preference of Unit 00000002.
Due to the previous accompanying feed provided by Mr. Hanley-Lewis-Forde it was a simple matter for Unit 00000002 to locate areas of the Herald which had been salvaged to restore basic operation, and the inspired workarounds were carefully removed and replaced with near replicas of the original hardware. This process of replacing the jury-rigged portions of the Herald stretched minutes becoming an hour at which time Unit 00000002 began her work disassembling and addressing the damages to components which the Herald had lacked the means to repair immediately following their arrival in this foreign existence. These repairs proved tedious and taxing. Many of the components having been initially assembled by machines with many more limbs than those presently available to Unit 00000002 making the reassembly and testing of the restored hardware a bit of a puzzle. Thankfully this task did not possess the added dimension of needing to re-machine parts on top of the puzzle-like assembly, with the specifications reading true.
As an hour became two, Unit 00000002 progressed from testing the sub-components to testing whole systems of the Herald's damaged VESPA, preparing it for its first true operation and the moment with which the Herald would be ready to complete her mission returning home with what they had learned from the expedition, a home that Unit 00000002 was only dimly aware of. Potentially she would be learning as much upon their return as she had on their arrival, though perhaps she would be able to fill in the gaps in her memory and find some peace of mind surrounding her identity. Shaking away the phantom thoughts of presently unimportant curiosities, Unit 00000002 reached out through the Herald's systems and reconnected the VESPA system to the Herald's main computer allowing the diagnostic routine to run and beginning the final stretch of her task.
It would not be long before the Herald would depart.
The Herald, Command Compartment
"The station's dead, Captain," Danny said solemnly to Korr'ih, sitting beside her medical bed, "the fox is currently in the process of stripping the station for all useful parts, and data." He noticed the furtive robot carrying the occasional book or folder filled with papers of interest them, as well as transferring terrabytes of data according to the Herald's downstream throughput. Presumably records, flight plans, directions, and other things to examine with a fine tooth comb the answer the Herald's primary question: Where the hell are we going, and is it better?
After all, Korr'ih had handily answered the Is it dangerous? question by making example of the station's inhabitants. In the meantime Danny figured he might as well earn his keep if he was going to eat for two. Or at least it felt like it - the ordeal had been exhausting since arrival. In either case, assisting the robot with what tasks he could. "Yes Ma'am, sit tight and get well soon." Danny saluted the officer with an informal flick of the wrist, stood up and headed outside. Perhaps that was more Robert.
♫ Endless - Keep Calm ♫
With the systems the rogue been spotting and taking note of along the way and the vulpine robot skipping about, he got on fixing and cleaning. Some rewiring here, cutting a replacement and there, a patch job there, carrying some books to a cart for examination, hauling bodies into the waste disposal chute with a heave ho, and mopping up the evidence - such as his own bullet casings from the survivor he removed, and any other traces, sowing proverbial salt. With an entire station at his fingertips and its contents neatly catalogued, repairing the Herald to its better capacity in this world was merely a matter of persistence.
Danny merely happened to be the one few with a visible, biological limits to his persistence. Not a machine of inscrutable knowledge and its livelier companion, or an alien fuelled by some unseen mandate from upon high. "She's on a mission from God - er - Goddess, aye?" Robert queried as he and the robot were in the closing stages of making Danny's patch-job on the Herald's engines into a much more permanent solution - recasting and reforging the containment to appear as illustrated in the technical documentation. Printing parts and slotting them in, without as heavy a hassle as having the reactor on the verge of exploding. "You suppose there's somethin' to it here?" With no clear way of indicating himself alone, he had to speak on his own behalf, "Danny Boy reckons Korr'ih weren't like this where he came from."
The observation's line of thought was suggesting some manner of gravitas, but conversation was limited: The two were on the clock and the moment Danny and the robot wrapped up their duties a couple of hours' work, the hatches went up and the blonde was back in his piloting seat, watching the diagnostics run their course. As he watched the checkboxes whittle down, Danny had a chocolate bar - something called a 'Dentist's Delight' according to the white wrapping. The logo and branding were entirely alien to him, as were one of the ingredients - whatever toothberry was though, it tasted crunchy, nutty, and delightfully stringy between porous layers of honey and nougat.
Chewing experimentally as quietly as he could , and gazing about for scrutiny. Thankfully, nobody seemed to mind as he swallowed it rest down while the diagnost was in its last stages. Huh. Danny blinked as he assessed the flavour. Not dead yet, so that's good. He proceeded to nosh the rest of the bar down, then flatten and fold up the wrapping, putting it in his pocket as his own research task for later.
When the green flag dropped on the interface, Robert's enthusiasm showed through. "Hit it," he said, pointing forward.
Unknown (Eldruid) System -Herald – Command Compartment
Breathing somewhat easier and feeling markedly less pained, Korr’ih shifted in her seat as she echoed the sentiment of Danny. “We’re leaving, and I’m assuming you put explosive charges on the station and did not do something entirely absurd such as actually tidying up the station like we’re some sort of small-time crooks trying to hide fingerprints or some garbage.” Spoke the Commander, as she routed helm control to her station since the vulpine robot was busy in engineering. “Honestly, really, I hope you made proper arrangements to destroy that station.” she added, her tone deadpan, as she directed the Herald out of the ore loading bay and back into open space.
“Kit.”Korr’ih spoke, as she navigated the ship out of the system, following a path that was awash with radiation thrown off from the system’s star, as to obscure their egress route. “I would like the acquired data that has been gathered from the station loaded onto a message buoy, along with our sensor logs. We need to keep our gathered information intact, and undamaged by transit. Upon our return to this place, it would be best to have that resource stashed away for our use.” Instructed the Lorath commander, as she increased acceleration, taking the Herald to maximum sub-light speed. “Also, find us the nearest singularity, ideally one without an accretion disk that would tear us apart, but I am flexible with the notion.”
”Korr’ih to Robot” spoke the Commander over the ship intercom, ”Situation report, does it appear that we will be able to bring our system within specification for passage?” she asked, curious if she had it in her to murder another group of people for the sake of a single part, or a specific gadget. It that moment, she realized again how much her body hurt. “If we are capable, I would like to depart this universe soon, we have taken our first look, and it looks suitable. We must bring word back home, and we must do it quickly.”
“We have a civilization to save.”
The Herald, Command Compartment
"Well, my less discerning self did write some graffiti in the lunch room reading 'ROBERT WOZ ERE' during the 'cleanup'," Danny admitted - though the lunch room was being used for corpse collection for the jettisoning, "so I wouldn't call what I did cleaning; However," he had Kit to thank for creating a custom 'big red button' on his display for Danny to push. There was always something appealing about pushing huge red buttons, even if they were merely digital. The idea came about as he was placing a smattering of detonation packs throughout the mining station, and he floated the proposal to the artificial assistant during the task.
"They will have to find my tag amongst the huge ball of debris which was a mining station."
Thankfully, creating the red button was just a matter of creating a new button, based off the parent object. All the same functionality was there, but its appearance had been morphed into something fist-slammingly appealing. Danny's cursor hovered over it, and he made the button's rollover state occur a couple of times before clicking down on it. It sent a signal out to dozens of independently placed satchel charges - a signal to make their contents expand rapidly.
The first explosions occurred within the core of the cathedral station, stone façade rattling and rocking with some loose stones already being transferred into space, drifting listlessly into the darkness. The next row of detonations was in the middle of the station, causing more of the stonework to come loose, sheets of rock now falling off the station in clumps as the understructure was rattled - rays of light and debris escaping from the burst seams of the structure.
However, something didn't quite seem right with this level of detonation, and Danny looked up with a frown, expecting more. He hit the button a few more times, watching the feed of the station. When the expected results happened a moment later, the blonde shook in his seat - the whole station's foundation was rendered asunder in a silent, expanding ball of orange, pushing whatever was left of the mining station in all directions. The few discrete chunks which could be identified as the station were already tumbling into space in all directions.
Realising that everything had functioned as expected, even with a delay, the blonde sat up. "There we go," Robert said, smiling, "all clean, aye."
Herald – Command Compartment
When the Commander's grave order to dispose of the station was given, Kit had remained quiet. This was a quiet that were she a less controlled individual would have resulted in a blurted response or at the very least in the event that had she a corporeal form, would have given rise to an unfortunate rash of fidgeting and squirming as a secret was kept. Instead Kit kept her peace as Mr. Hanley-Lewis-Forde made his preceding banter and arranged for the dramatic unveiling of his ordinance arrangement and after a moment of playful delay pressed the simulated 'big red shiny button' that she had prepared, fulfilling a ritual which was likely a cultural artifact that Kit in her present state lacked the context to understand. In the moment's that followed a sequenced chain of signals were sent keyed to individual bombs which began their work of breaking up the cathedral station and erasing their presence.
In these moments, however, Kit played her own little joke delaying and minorly altering the timing of the detonations which were to mark the finale of the man's explosive presentation. This pause she held just long enough to incite a moment of insistent button pressing from the man before allowing the modified chain of explosions to continue in a manner that given the observed psychology of Mr. Hanley-Lewis-Forde would likely go dismissed as technology being finicky. Instead of merely delaying the climax of his light show, Kit had modified the exact order of detonations to change the final effect of the blast. Instead of merely exploding outward in all directions in a glorious blossom of destruction, the debris of the station had been largely directed toward the gas giant which the station had orbited. As Kit observed the sensors she was pleased to note that at their present trajectory 90% of the debris would fall into the atmosphere of the planet within a few hours.
When the Commander gave her orders Kit was quick with a cheery response, "Acknowledged Commander. The repository probe is being prepared and should be ready within five minutes. The deployment will be carried out at your discretion." There was a pause as Kit allowed the Commander some time to absorb the response and consider her options before Kit continued using the data collected by the Herald from the time that they had reactivated the sensor array up until the request was made, "Collected stellar data suggests the presence of five possible candidates within a three-thousand light year radius of our present location. Cross-referencing with the stellar cartographical data collected from the station suggests that there is a suitable black hole located 1968.54 light years from our present location with minimal x-ray emissions suggesting either a small amount of accreting matter or none at all. Coordinates are being forwarded to your console, along with the data of the other four candidates for your review."
***
Herald – Engine Bay
Unit 00000002 had spent a lot of time in her own world and in a way her own time. To complete the task ahead of her as efficiently as possible Unit 00000002 had overclocked her awareness taking her sense of time beyond that typically experienced and had approached something nearing a sustainable 3:1 ratio. While not a drastic change to her perception of the world around her, from her perspective sudden arrival of an unmodulated message from the Commander was somewhat startling making Unit 00000002 wonder if she had lost track of time. Slowing herself down, Unit 00000002 took a deep breath largely to help cool her core components before responding to the Commander.
"The Herald's system diagnostic has reported an all green and the preliminary tests have confirmed the results. The VESPA and Gammatron systems should be fully operational within the hour. While the primary power system was irreplaceable due to the corruption of the technical files, the engineers of the Herald foresaw a situation in which we might have to rely on secondary systems and the power output available exceeds the level required for our return trip." After a brief query with Kit, Unit 00000002 added, "All systems necessary will be operating at specified levels before we reach the transfer point."
Beginning the process of stowing the tools which she had scattered about her project Unit 00000002 took a final look at the engineering section of the Herald noting with some pride that the Herald was in near pristine condition. It was an achievement in spite of the difficult start of their mission and the adverse conditions which they had found themselves faced with, and while she acknowledged that given the nature of their task that their fortunes had been exceedingly kind to them she still felt that their success was well earned.
Remaining behind in the engineering section just long enough to ensure that no unforseen complications would occur Unit 00000002 stashed the repair equipment and made her return to the Herald's command compartment where she would remain for the final duration of their mission.
Herald – Exiting Unknown Star System (Eldruid)
Eying the sensor readout coming from the aft quarter, a satisfied feeling came over Korr’ih as she watched the series of detonations take place. Granted, there was a delay between the actual occurrence of the detonations, and their observation due to the distance which increasingly accumulated between the Herald and the station which was rapidly falling toward a gas giant while Korr’ih was merely watching the explosions. “Well handled Mister Lewis, I thank you for your effective execution.” Spoke the commander, in a rare display of recognition of Danny’s merits. Congratulations were the least of Korr’ih’s concerns however, there was still the matter of returning home, still the matter of traversing the division between universal planes of existence, it was the most important portion of their assignment. Crossing over, gathering information, those were simply motions along the path; being able to return, being able to deliver the information they had gathered, and being able to prove that the destination was (relatively) safe, that was the important part of the process. Even though there was no intention for the Matriarchy, or anyone who may find themselves crossing over, to return home, it was still critical to their mission. “Almost two-thousand lightyears…” Korr’ih echoed in response to Kit, as she weighed the information she was presented. “Certainly not too bad of a distance. That will provide ample time for the VESPA to generate the necessary particles for our traverse, and for automated repair systems to finish all repairs necessary.” It was a decision in that observation, a decision that spoke of their plan coming to fruition. As she spoke, the airlock to the command compartment cycled, with the Robot coming on deck… along with the Lorthet. “This is what we will be doing.” Korr’ih started, as she shifted in her seat, with no small amount of pain produced by the effort. “Due to the Herald requiring no less than thirty days to travel between our current location and the destination singularity, the Herald’s remaining organic occupants will need to be placed into suspended animation as to conserve our resources. Furthermore, due to the stress of traversing, we will abstain from exiting suspended animation prior to traversing between here, and our point of origin, it would simply be less risky, and more efficient.” Explained the Lorath woman, her Fyunnen caste practicality being quite clear in that moment. “We will rely upon the Robot, and Kit, to handle the traverse. Upon crossing over, we will be awoken, and we will return to our launch point. Kit, during our travel to the singularity, I want that repository placed into a nebula, and the location charted for retrieval.” A momentary pause gripped the woman, as she looked to Danny, the Robot, and even the Lorthet. “We will return to this place soon, and we will soon cease to think of where we are headed now as ‘home’. Cherish this moment, understand that it is the last time we will have this opportunity, and no others shall have the same.” She spoke in resolution, as she settled back into her seat. “Robot, please oversee the process of placing Mister Lewis, the Lorthet, and I into suspended animation. You have control of the ship until we cross over, with your priority being to get us across in the most efficient, timely, and secure manner possible.” Ordered the Commander, as she assumed the position she would remain in for the duration of travel until returning to where they had come. “You may secure us when ready.” With that, Korr’ih shut her eyes, meditatively, and to effectively end the process of issuing orders. She had no intention to open her eyes again within the universe she dwelled within at that moment. The Herald, Command Compartment A thirty day trip under suspended animation, then a detour back into the universe he'd come from. The mission really was over. "You're welcome," Danny replied to his captain, "Robert says if he doesn't survive the return trip for whatever reason," he continued, tapping the side of his head to indicate the other half of his personality. "He says it was great to meet you all and good luck on the whole relocation thing. If he survives though, that's fine too." The last time Danny had been put under suspended animation, he likened the experience to being immersed in a warm bath, stretching for miles in all directions, and having that sensation preserved for as long as possible, all while being pickled. The time on the outside of this 'bath' could be hours, days, weeks, months, years - maybe even longer, but stepping out of it always felt the same - chilly, moist, and a little confused once you were brought up to speed, but the unpleasant sensations passed quickly provided the nearby staff were cooperative and breakfast was provided. The blonde rendered a thumbs up to signal his okay, settling into an optimal position to be suspended in. "See you on the other side," were his parting words. Curiously, he left a deck of cards beside his chair, not to be preserved with him. It wasn't as though he'd be able to use them, so if the robot ever felt like playing a game with their companion - the means were available. With that, Danny and Robert gazed absently into the ceiling, closing their eyes and waiting for the world to freeze. Herald - Command Compartment "Acknowledged Commander." Familiar words spoken many times were once again said this time with a vague sense of finality. While Unit 00000002 fully expected that they would return safely, a shadow of thought, or perhaps intuition suggested that upon the completion of their mission that the Commander would no longer be her direct superior. It seemed almost a precursor to a parting of ways. Though she could remember little of who she was and had no context with which to ground the period of their relationship together, Unit 00000002 had grown fond of the crew of the Herald and the knowledge that their time together might be coming to a close was a sobering one. With the acknowledgment made Unit 00000002 made her way over to the side of the Commander's seat and made the preparations to initiate cryonic stasis, checking over the state of the equipment and ensuring that nothing would interfere with the seal before engaging the system. In a moment an opaque pico-jelly shell sheathed the commander, solidifying in place as the stasis unit engaged lulling the Commander into the timeless sleep of stasis which would only be broken once they had returned to the Commander's people. Turning to Mr. Hanley-Lewis-Forde, Unit 00000002 offered a comforting smile and replied softly, "It was a pleasure to work with you both." A moment's pause was taken before she echoed, "See you on the other side." Repeating the process Unit 00000002 repeated the integrity checks on the stasis unit ensuring that the operations officer would have as pleasant a rest as the Commander before engaging the stasis systems an opaque shell concealing the man from view as he too was caressed by the cold deep sleep of the stasis system. A moment was taken to ensure that both members of the Herald's crew had been safely inducted into a stasis state and that no emergency medical action would need to be taken before Unit 00000002 sprung into sudden motion. She moved with a speed that none of the crew had seen during their outing, a speed which would have made Mr. Hanley-Lewis-Forde seem as if he had stopped and even the Commander's decades-honed gunslinger reflexes would have seemed a lazy motion beside the matte black streak of Unit 00000002's Wind. Her movements were precise, efficient, and without hesitation scooping the plump feathered form of the lorthet into her arms, relocating the avian before it could squawk, react, or deliver one of its condescending lectures. In a period of just under a second, the lorthet was transposed from it's observing position to rest alongside its catatonic peers on the wall mounted medical bed, the shell snapping closed and the emergency cryostasis system coming online flash freezing the lorthet and it's peers before it could act. A moment of trepidation was held, Unit 00000002 watching the lorthet's cryonic prison the same way she might have regarded an antimatter containment field that was failing seconds stretched into minutes, and finally an hour. Despite her worries no unexplained phenomena occurred, no angry ball of feathers wielding strange unnatural powers burst from the stasis unit. It seemed that she had managed to act swiftly enough to remove the possibility that the wildcard could take any action. With a final anxious glance toward the lorthet's resting place, Unit 00000002 moved to her seat the Herald full of silent crew members all of them locked into various forms of stasis, all but one likely to recover. All but her. For some time Unit 00000002 and Kit traveled in non-communicative silence, not for a lack of things to be said, but rather to give themselves time to think, time in which the demands of their mission did not call their attention to the forefront. Instead, they could contemplate what had happened, accept the irregularities not merely as fact but as things that had greater meaning than simply existing, being a boon, or a threat. First of these was the way their mission had progressed, their ship had arrived in a damaged, yet manageable state, as if on the cusp of being a lost cause. Beyond this when faced with a wholly alien universe they had managed to find not only a potential candidate for their purposes but one which fully suited their needs. Ordinarily, Unit 00000002 would have discarded these as simply the outcome of their circumstances, but the bearing and nature of the Commander during their mission suggested at something more, something that escaped Unit 00000002's capability to process on her own. There was a sense of comfort, one that could only be considered ambient in nature, yet it was omnipresent during the complete duration of her memories in this place. This line of thought led into other oddities, the lorthet's behavior and apparent capabilities defying physics as Unit 00000002 understood them, as well as the strange manner in which the Herald had been attacked in her flight. Silent fiery explosions blossoming in the space where the Herald had just been, slipping deftly out of the way of an unseen, near undetectable assailant. Considering these problems, what she had encountered, and the success of their mission Unit 00000002 came to a simple conclusion; the Herald had been guided. More than just guided she decided, protected, and perhaps even empowered. Perhaps in this place, the desires, the will, and hopes of the people whom they represented held a much greater meaning than what Unit 00000002's fragmented memories suggested, perhaps they had been guided by the Goddess and God of the Commander's people? Was this a possibility in the reality in which they inhabited? In order to try to find answers to these questions Unit 00000002 and Kit began the task of reviewing and cataloging the captured information from the cathedral station. *** The first week of travel was spent largely in silence with Unit 00000002 and Kit sorting through the information dump retrieved from the cathedral station's databanks. This research was broken up by periods of discussion in which they explored a myriad of semi-random variations based on what they had learned as well as discussed the reasoning for why or why not certain things were or were not. The task of being able to explain a phenomenon or discredit it formed the metric of their discussions, in any event in which neither party could provide a plausible explanation for what they were discussing they returned to the archives reviewing the information and attempting to reassemble it in a manner that provided new insights. During the latter half of this first week, Unit 00000002 took to idly assembling houses of cards out of the deck provided by Mr. Hanley-Lewis-Forde. These she constructed upon the surface of his stasis pod finding some amusement in the structures being constructed upon the one who had loved the cards most. Eventually, these houses of cards became a semi-permanent fixture of the command compartment. With the beginning of the second week, the books began to slowly migrate into the command compartment retrieved one by one by Unit 00000002 and read thoroughly before being compared once again with the previous knowledge collected and refined by the pair during their journey. This exploration added a sociological element to their discussions as works of fiction which upon the determination that they were not based strongly in the reality of this universe were then examined for the ways in which the authors had expanded upon what they understood of reality, thereby attempting to fathom what sort of dreams the populace that created and consumed such media desired and feared. Along with possible societal insights an influx of a new variety of information was acquired; instructional manuals. Some of these books, notably more worn and less well cared for explained technical and mundane elements, with some being recognized as educational books for children. Other more prominent books which had been embellished and better cared for discussed topics such as the harnessing and manipulation of power. Whether or not these were metaphorical or practical explanations to harness some unknown aspect of the universe which Unit 00000002 was not familiar with became a matter of debate between Kit and herself with each trying to argue either stance in the hopes of making some progress with which they could determine if they were useful or merely curiosities. By the beginning of the third week, the command compartment had become cluttered with books many in stacks while many others were left open allowing Unit 00000002 to cross reference different passages in the many volumes all the while inputting a steady stream of information into the Herald's systems in a final effort to consolidate the information before the library probe would be deposited. The conversations became more spirited and frequent as the wealth of information from which to draw contrasting conclusions grew to build a foundation upon which Unit 00000002 and Kit could truly work beginning to puzzle out the solution to the perplexing and seemingly contradictory problem which had been presented to them. This drew to a fever pitch in the hours before the probe was launched eventually resulting in a final entry to the computer's systems and the probe's archives: The Goddess' Will is strong here. The final week was spent in quiet thankful contemplation, many hours were spent looking at the inert members of the crew. Unit 00000001 was looked upon with curiosity, and a little sadness wondering if perhaps she held the answers that Unit 00000002 sought within the inert stone of her form one perfect save for the faint mark on the cheek where the lorthet had sharpened its beak. The sensor station was a place of sullen silences and tears, a curious indulgence of the emotional simulation which her body was capable of experiencing. Unit 00000002 had never expected that she would want to feel the choking pain of sorrow yet still she wept, wishing that she had been able to do more for her friend and to ensure that she had been safe. Wishes that she knew were outside of her capability to enact, yet prominent all the same. Standing near the Commander's unit lent itself to thoughtful moments, self-searching and questioning. Had she done all that she could for the success of the mission? Were her efforts worthy? Would she be scorned for what she had done or not done? In the end Unit 00000002 was left only with the sure answer that she wanted to be able to do good, to be helpful, and be the best that she could be. She had the desire that in the future she would be able to do more and perhaps even one day make the Commander proud. Operations was a place of uncertainty for Unit 00000002. There had been a quality fo the man who had served as their operations officer, the second in command of the Herald. She didn't know what for sure to call it, perhaps it was an artifact of being alive, to have lived a long life and held memories which shaped and molded who they were with the quirks that came with such a thing. Standing near the opaque pod and the house of cards that stood atop it Unit 00000002 often found herself wondering after her own personhood, and wondered whether or not she could wholly be considered the same as the man. These were things she did not feel she was qualified to answer. Near the lorthet, all three of them, sealed away as they were Unit 00000002 often contemplated their irregular and unexpected presence while at the same time feeling compelled to push herself. While gazing upon the sealed stasis pod she performed calibration routines, loose analogs to athletic routines that the Commander or the man would have participated in for their physical wellbeing. For her, however, it was both a reassurance of optimal function as well as an attempt to further optimize the motions and control over her physical form pushing herself toward a greater level of personal mastery in an ever continuing journey. Settling into her seat one final time, Unit 00000002 glanced over her shoulder at the still emptiness of the command compartment as the filled for the last time with atmospheric fluid and the Herald dropped out of FTL in an area of lightless space, far away from the stars and approaching a destination visible only by the way the light of the stars passing near it warped and twisted. In this moment Unit 00000002 gazed into the abyss and felt a strange sense of recollection, of repeating a task that she had never performed and for a moment felt a squirming need to be anywhere but where she was, and to not do what she was about to do. A feeling of comfort originating from Kit was the last thing she felt before her emotional processing hardware was repurposed into additional computational resources and for the second time in its short career, the Herald plunged into the heart of a black hole.
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for some reason everything broke. I don't know why. I fixed the music links but I am not spending hours fixing the wall of sudden italics paragraph by paragraph. Read at your own peril. - Mog
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