#011 - "The Alpha & The Omega" Pt.II
Chapter 1: Trial by Fire
[Several Minutes Earlier]
“Three of a kind! Hahaha! Don’t worry - I won’t judge you if you all need a nice cry after this.” I say smuggly, claiming my hard earned winnings from the pot.
“Bullshit!! You’re fuckin’ cheating Fleece!” Brick yells, pounding his fists on the table.
“Nope, you’re just awful at hiding your tells.”
“Guess I’m walking across the station for the next month…” Lark says, lighting up a cigarette.
“Maybe if you cut out that smoking, you could afford the train subscription.” Ron says in a frustrated tone as he finally goes bust.
Tonight, Hellman and Berrick let everybody celebrate in the entertainment districts while we’re stuck babysitting Traffic Command. Well I say that, but Ron and I volunteered. There’s absolutely nothing to do since everybody is already docked, except wait for the DRAC Gov’s envoy.
So we decided to make our own fun.
Or at least, that’s what Brick thought when he first suggested we play poker. Right now I got him sitting on the ropes as the last man in apart from me.
“I don’t even understand why Hellman got us babysitting this place. The turrets already got the DRAC envoy registered as friendlies, they don’t even need us here. All they got to do is dock, exchange the bitch, and leave. The computer can take care of all of that.” Brick grumbles as he anxiously accepts his next hand.
“He’s probably trying to save face. Having nothing but a skeleton crew welcome the DRAC's top brass would make us look disorganized and disrespectful. It also might make his investors nervous, hearing that we’re understaffed.” Ron lethargically explains.
Lark scoffs, “We’re already a skeleton crew! We got less than fifty people watching this wing in a base made for thousands!”
“Yeah, but some bodies look better than none.” I added.
“Why not just use the therians then?” Brick asks, visibly perspirating from the garbage hand he just drew.
“That’d be insulting to them. Those snobby SCI elites would probably take that as us saying ‘You aren’t worth our time, so we sent our slaves to greet you.”
“Isn’t Hellman coming here himself?” I ask.
Ron shrugs, “Not sure, they wouldn’t give me a straight answer.”
“Typical ambiguous bullshit out of management as usual. We’re barely scraping by while Hellman and Berrick are rolling in it hand over fist. Can’t even give us a day off during the biggest party HMC’s ever had.” Bitches Lark.
“Yeah but you and Brick get to party here every night, while me and Ron have been in the shit.”
“If you call dying of boredom and debt ‘partying it up’, yeah sure – It’s just a regular fuckin’ festival of fun here!”
We both show our hands.
“Two-pair!”
“Straight.”
“FUCK!”
Brick has nearly busted out at this point. His next hand is probably going to be his last. We shuffle the deck again to cease his incessant whining claiming that I’m cheating.
We both draw our hands, and I see a tinge of a smile from Brick.
“I fold.”
“No!! That’s bullshit!!”
Brick irritatingly claims the meager pot.
“Anyway, Fleece… I’m surprised you two would voluntarily choose to be stuck here with us.”
“While we might not be a crew anymore, you’re still my family. Besides, bleeding you idiots dry gets me closer and closer to getting out of this dump.”
“Heh – We never should have joined up with the HMC. Sure, our ship was a duct-taped pile of shit, but it was fun. This… This ain’t no way to live Fleece. I became a mercenary because I didn’t want to be a cog in the corporate machine. Now I’m just a glorified desk jockey in body armor.” Lark laments, looking up at the ceiling.
We all silently nod in agreement. Everybody is on the same page here. While they’ve been atrophing at a desk, me and Ron have been forced to become pseudo-soldiers; forced to commit countless atrocities for clients who’ll never have to see combat in their lives. I became a mercenary because I wanted a life outside the normal monotony of a 9 to 5, I wanted adventure! Instead I’m stuck bombing towns and villages while getting shouted at by management for not doing it fast enough.
“So is it true what they say about the Dark Tide? You see anything in there?” Asks Brick.
“Nah, I didn’t. Fleece said he heard things though.” Says Ron.
Brick and Lark turn their attention to me.
“Yeah, I heard voices.”
“Well – What’d they say??” Lark asks, clearly intrigued.
“No idea. I couldn’t make anything out. It sounded like… Silent sceaming. No, that isn’t accurate. More like somebody was yelling, like they were having an argument of some kind. But if you turned the volume way down.”
“Scary.” Shudders Brick.
“So… I know they keep saying we’re making steady progress, but… How bad is it really? In Libertalia?” asks Lark, his tone genuinely hesitant.
“Fucking bad Lark.” I say bluntly.
“They got anti-orbital cannons and anti-air installations out the ass. The further you’re in, the worse it gets. We can’t even get close to the capital. They might be a tiny country, but their military power is real. Berrick seems to think they’re being backed by another country, but we haven’t been able to find any kind of paper trail to prove it.” Ron explains.
“Fortunately their Navy is lacking. Apart from their main naval force, it’s mostly a cobbled together fleet of jury-rigged civilian transports, pirate ships, mercenary ships, and maybe the occasional outdated military vessel. So they haven’t been able to mount any kind of real counter-offensive apart from some guerrilla hit and run tactics.” I add.
“I heard that with this reward, Hellman has already ordered a big ass fleet of new ships, new weapons, and supplies to last us for the next few years.”
“He isn’t pulling any punches, huh?” Asks Brick.
“Nope – I expect within a month, your asses will be sitting in the cockpit of a brand new starfigher. That or on a dropship to Hell.” I declare.
Lark chuckles, “Together again, huh?”
“Ron and I will sure as Hell try and get them to pair us all up.”
“I look forward to it.” Lark says, closing his eyes and giving a satisfied smile.
Just then all of us feel a violent rumble shake the entire room. The room goes black as the gravity controls go haywire, making it feel like the whole room has tilted sideways. We all fall out of our chairs, as chips slide off the table and scatter across the floor.
“W-what the fuck was that!?!?” Lark yells.
“Is Libertalia attacking!?” Asks Brick in a panic.
“Everybody calm down!” Ron exclaims, “Emergency power should kick on any second!”
Naturally, Ron immediately takes command of the situation, calming all of us down. He was our captain when we were independent mercs. Always reliable, we’d follow this man into Hell and back.
Just as Ron said, the lights kick back on, this time a bright reddish pink color, as the walls have changed to a purple magenta. They’re slowly blinking in and out, as the computers and command console begin to reboot.
“Brick, Fleece – I want you two covering the doors. Lark, get on the command console and see what the Hell is going on. I’m going to try and get somebody on the horn.”
“Got it.”
“On it.”
“Yeah, just keep me covered.”
We all rush to our positions. It takes a couple minutes for everything to reboot, meanwhile Ron is trying to call anybody and everybody he can.
“All I keep getting is either a machine telling me ‘User cannot be reached at this time’ or voicemail. Nobody is picking up.”
“Ron – Take a look at this.”
Ron races over to the command console, hovering over Lark's shoulder.
“I’m getting catastrophic failure alerts from all over the station. Everything is down – The trains, communication relays, defensive turrets, everything! The only things that still seem to be working is the priority systems!” Lark exclaims with a confused sense of urgency.
“You think it’s an attack!?”
“Sensors would have picked up any foreign vessels or objects getting close to the station. No, this has to be something from inside the base.”
“Sabotage then?”
“That seems the most likely, but this level of damage goes beyond anything a regular saboteur might be able to pull off. Even if the reactor were to explode, it wouldn’t cause this amount of damage.”
“Do you think it’s a cyberattack? Trick the station into thinking everything has failed?” I ask.
“Very possible, but that doesn’t explain the rumble we felt.”
“Uh, I think I might know what it was guys.” Pipes up Brick.
“What you got Brick?” Asks Ron.
“Hellman had a whole bunch of old Reclamation War bombs in the Surplus Depot. I heard some of them were really unstable, so maybe one of them went off?"
Lark rubs his chin in contemplation, “That would make sense. That would explain the rumble we felt. If we combine that theory with the cyberattack theory, it’s definitely plausible. While doing a cyberattack faking station-wide damage without setting off the physical sensors would be incredibly complex. They could theoretically change the thresholds, and associated requirements for catastrophic failure detections. All they’d need to do then is detonate the bombs, causing a chain reaction which would cause false flags throughout the entire station – Thus isolating each wing of the station due to their security lockdowns and hull breach countermeasures. Which means…”
“They don’t want want reinforcements to arrive…”
We all collectively realize what this all means.
Somebody is inside the station, and unless they have no intention of leaving here alive, they’re trying to get out.
And in order to do that – They need to go through here.
Just then a door opens outside, and the sounds of gunfire and screaming echo down the hall.
We all fall back ducking behind cover.
“DON’T SHOOT! IT’S ME MARCO!”
Marco comes in, he’s winded and bleeding profusely from his abdomen. We hesitantly lower our guns partway, realizing he could still be the saboteur.
“Close the doors!! She’s coming!!!” he says, attempting to lock the doors in a frenzy. “FUCK! Why aren’t any of these doors working!?!?”
“Who’s coming??” Ron ask.
“Anna!!! Her CNI has gone haywire or something!!! She’s killing everybody out there!!! The whole place is one big fucking slaughterhouse!!!”
Anna? The tiny therian girl?
Just then something red and orange swoops in from behind Marco, blue flashes illuminate the room, as Marco’s body is completely bisected from his stomach to his head. Chunks of him hit my face, as my body gets painted in a fine red mist.
His body collapses to the floor.
There stands a short, orange haired Nekozoku, absolutely drenched in blood from head to toe.
“The doors aren’t closing because they’ve been registered as a secondary process.” She mumbles to herself nonchalantly.
We all freeze for a second. It feels like an eternity as we try to process what just happened. Anna is basically this station’s mascot – There’s no way this is real, right?
We all come to our senses in unison, and move to open fire – But she draws first.
The room is engulfed in blinding blue flashes and the sound of gunfire. I try to squeeze the trigger, but for some reason I can’t feel my gun.
I look over at my left arm and it’s… Gone.
Everything is just… Gone.
Suddenly searing pain radiates throughout my entire body, and an excruciating stabbing pain resounds from the back of my thigh.
I fall to the floor as I clutch the mutilated remains of my bicep.
I grit my teeth, screaming through them.
The back of my thigh is bleeding, I must have caught a ricochet.
“G-guys, I-I need a m-medic.” I say, my voice shaking from shock.
Silence.
“G-guys?”
I look over, and see the tattered remains of my brother’s corpses strewn across the floor.
“Ahhh-uwahhhh-fahhhh...”
Words fail me, all that comes out of my mouth is an incoherent stream of nonsense sounds born of fear, pain, shock, and utter disbelief.
The tiny Nekozoku calmly enters the room, leaving behind bloodied footprints in her wake. She raises her gun once again, shooting all of my brother’s weapons scattered across the floor which erupt into a bright pink fireball.
She walks over to the command console, and begins typing away at it without so much as sparing me a glance.
Her whole body is bathed in a deep, pure shade of crimson. Blood drips from her hair, and… Bits… Of people… Are plastered all over her body.
She’s a devil… An actual demon…
I look over, and see my gun laying on the floor. The remains of my hand are still stuck in the trigger guard. I begin inching my way over to it, just out of her line of sight.
“If you reach for that gun, you’re going to lose that other arm.”
“H-huh?...”
She finishes up whatever it was she was doing at the command console, raises one of her guns, and unloads an immense amount of shrapnel into it.
Her eyes then lock onto mine. A terrifyingly calm and casual smile is plastered on her blood covered face. It’s like she doesn’t even notice she is literally covered in people.
She begins walking towards me, guns in both hands, as I scurry back up against the wall.
She kicks my gun, and hand, across the floor and shoots it. Causing it to flare into a bright pink flame. She crouches down in front of me to meet me at eye level, our gazes lock, as I tremble in terror from this blood bathed demon.
“I am going to let you live, but I want you to deliver a message for me.”
“W-w-what i-is it?”
“Tell Anthony Valoretti that I’m coming for him. Tell him I know what he did to Kei.”
“H-his office is r-right d-down the hall.” I say pointing to the exit.
“I know. I can hear that sniveling little coward hiding underneath his desk. But unfortunately, I have been ordered to return promptly, and not to run off anywhere.”
“O-ordered?”
She sighs to herself, “No matter – I will find him at a later date. Pass that message along for me, would you kindly?”
“Y-y-yeah, s-sure no problem.” I say, vehemently nodding my head.
“That’s a good boy.”
She gives me a quick smirk, stands up, and then sprints out of the room back the way she came.
The room falls completely silent.
I look over at my brother’s rended corpses, as reality suddenly hits me.
Tears of sorrow violently stream from my eyes, as I vow in my heart that I'll one day kill that monster.
□■□
Several minutes have passed since the blast doors opened, and the maglocks disengaged. As soon as they did, I breathed a tremendous sigh of relief. Not just because our road to freedom was opened, but because it meant Anna was safe.
While I got a few people who ran in here while Anna was gone, it was shockingly less than I anticipated. I expected to be up to my ass in mercenaries, but all I got was one squad of five guys. Nobody even attempted to flank me using the stairs. I guess they must have saw the bodies near the other door, and figured I was camping the stairs. So they probably thought that by using this entrance, they could catch me by surprise. Little did they know – I had the high ground.
As one intergalactic space wizard taught me: High ground always wins.
Speaking of the high ground and space wizards: I am currently staring down at the charred remains of their bodies.
I found out that yes – dewey weapons do indeed make noise. So me not firing my dewey pistol back in the Therianthrope District was very much a good thing. Even if I could have drawn and shot it before Rubrum could react, therians with extra sensitive hearing definitely would have heard it. It’s not as loud as a regular gun, not even close. But it does make a very distinct heavy electrical kind of sound. Also, it does indeed have recoil, albeit much more manageable than a real gun.
It’s funny – I didn’t even end up using the Shredders Anna and I spent all that time getting. But neither of us knew for certain just how strong Ionna really was apart from educated guesses and wild speculation. Now we (and my fingers) know for certain that she’s pretty fucking strong.
Frankly a part of me is glad I never had to use it. This LMG seems like a much more humane method of killing them. Using the Shredder at this distance would have definitely caused a great deal of suffering. At least with this, their end was quick.
This entire time though… Something has been nagging at me.
That image that flashed through my mind in the Export Box… Of the tiny, blonde haired girl in the purple summer dress… Where have I seen her before?
She keeps popping into my head. Different moments, different settings, different clothes each time.
But I can never recall her face.
I remember thinking her smile was beyond precious, but I don’t remember what it looked like.
I also vaguely remember another woman. Her face… It’s… Why can’t I see it!?!
I recall sitting on a bench with her.
I remember… A white room with cold floors.
I remember... Sitting in a quiet kitchen… Crying.
FUCK – WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE!?
I FEEL LIKE I’M LOSING MY MIND!!!
Why won’t it go away?
...Please… Just go away…
The silence isn’t helping.
I can’t help but notice how eerily quiet everything has gotten. Unlike earlier, which sounded like a warzone, I can’t hear anything now save for the slight hum of the plasma barrier separating us from the endless vacuum of space.
Which means the mercenaries are either all dead, fled, or are regrouping for a major assault on the hangar.
The sad fact of it is… Since I barely got any visitors, it had to be Anna who was up to her ass in mercenaries.
I had the advantage of a defensive position, while she was running through tight narrow corridors with God knows how many mercenaries pursuing her.
Please God, let Anna still be alive…
Just then, I hear the pitter-patter of feet slapping against the smooth floor outside the hangar.
I take aim, prepared for anything that might come through those doors.
“IT’S ME, DON’T SHOOT!”
Oh thank Christ - She made it.
“GOT IT, YOU’RE CLEAR!”
I expected a cute, tiny, pumpkin-haired cat eared girl to run through those doors – What I got was… Somewhat different.
A red thing races through the hangar doors, and past my field of view.
What the fuck was that!?
Did they use a voice synthesizer of her to get me to lower my guard!?
Expecting an impending flood of mercenaries, I dash to the open airlock door, and take cover in the alcove.
By then the red thing has already made it up the stairs and rounded the corner, running at full sprint.
It’s then I notice it’s holding two Shredders and has an orange tail swaying behind it.
Uhhhh.
Finally the “red thing” makes its way to the entrance of the airlock, and I am in utter disbelief.
“A-Anna!?! What the fuck happened to you!?!?”
“Eheh, umm… Resistance was higher than anticipated.” She said, scratching her head wearing an embarrassed smile.
EMBARRASSMENT IS NOT THE CORRECT RESPONSE TO THIS ANNA!!!
She is covered –
No drenched –
No – BATHED in the blood of her enemies.
Head to toe, 90% of her body is lathered with red and chunks of… God knows what.
“You better hope this ship has a shower. Now get your Dracula lookin’ ass in this ship this instant young lady.”
“Who’s Dracula?”
“Just get in here.”
We enter the ship, while Anna presses a button on the end of the ramp, retracting it behind us.
I feel like I just stepped onto a nuclear submarine.
Not so much in terms of space. In fact, I’d say it’s a fair bit larger inside than I expected. That being said, I wouldn’t necessarily call it “spacious”. But I don’t feel like I’m suffocating either. A window in here would certainly make the room seem much more open, and moderately less stuffy.
“Just give me a moment to close the airlock doors, and then do a quick compression check. I want to make sure the seals weren’t compromised when they seized the ship. Then we can depart.” Says Anna.
“Do we really have time for that!?”
“It’ll only take a minute. If we don’t do it, and they are compromised, we could all die.”
“Alright fine, but please hurry.”
She nods and gets to work.
I take a moment to briefly look around the room, as I drop my bag to the floor.
Ahh, much better. That bag was killing my shoulders.
Anyway, when I say I feel like I just stepped into a nuclear submarine, I’m moreso referring to the interior design, and the overall aesthetic.
This room seems to be some sort of control center, or strategic command deck. The roof forms into a wide tapered arch which matches the hull’s outer slope. It’s dimly lit by overhead lights, countless instrument clusters, monitors, and blue hazard lights which run along the floor. While the overhead lights are normal colored lighting, the light emitted from all the equipment, monitors, and hazard lights give the room a cool blue theme. Across the ceiling, a plethora of slate grey pipes, chrome railing (which I assume is to hold onto), and thick black cables run cleanly overhead. Interrupted only by several hanging black metal consoles containing monitors, various switches, and knobs whose functions are completely unknown to me.
The floor is a dark blue thin layer of carpet which steps down into the command deck. There’s a large, circular black metal… Table? To be honest I’m not sure exactly what it is. It has no chairs, no leg room underneath, and has a large blue electronic screen across it with a grid pattern which keeps steadily moving. There’s also controls around the edge, and a hood directly above it. Maybe it’s like a 3D hologram display table or something. If it is, they could map out an entire area using ODSS, and create a 3D model which could be analyzed here.
There are also numerous wide black metal control consoles, work stations with chairs and keyboards, illuminated glass walls with transparent maps, and chrome pillars running up the ceiling.
To my left and right, the walls are covered in dark wood paneling with a dull silver metal trim. I’m guessing that, given the blatant silver knobs near the corners of each panel, along with the metal inlay handle, all of these wood panels are quickly removable for ease of maintenance. Each side has a large metal door akin to a submarine. Fortunately these seem to have more headroom than an actual submarine, so I’m not too worried about smashing my 195cm (6’4ft) head against the thick metal doorframe everytime I need to pass through.
The wall in front of me, and behind me also both have wood paneling. But it only runs on top and on bottom. Between them is painted grey metal, more pipes, cables, instrument clusters, and what looks like electrical boxes.
Dead ahead of me, placed in front of the curved shape of the hull is a purely decorative wooden wall standing vertically straight up and down.
On it is a large red circular metal plaque trimmed with gold plated fake metal rope cast right into the plaque itself. Placed prominently in the center is a large symmetrical depiction of a bird of prey, probably an Eagle or a Hawk, soaring upwards with the outer edge of its sharp sweeping wings matching the curvature of the circular plaque. Behind it is a golden olive laurel wreath, and forming a triangle around it are three military green stars. At the top, in a gold, very Roman styled script reads: “Democratic Republic of Allied Colonies.” At the bottom reads: “CSO.” Above the plaque in big, bold, individually cast chrome letters is the word “HELIOS.” Below the large red plaque is a wide rectangular golden plaque with embossed letters which say: “ACSV John B. Ford.”
This red plaque must be the DRAC’s national flag. That or the CSO’s divisional banner. If I had to venture to guess, CSO probably means…?
Fuck.
I look to the floor, and sigh outwardly realizing the impending shitstorm we’ve just thrown ourselves into.
“Colonial Special Operations.”
Anyway I look at it, this ship is most likely a stolen, top-secret Special Operations vessel. Everything about it screams “Spec Ops”. Not to mention, to quote Anna, the bounty for it is “insane.”
So is HELIOS the name of the ship? Or is it John B. Ford? I’m seeing the words HELIOS all over the overwhelmingly complex command consoles. But the fact that John B. Ford has a ship prefex (which probably means “Allied Colonies Spacefaring Vessel” or “Allied Colonies Space Vehicle”), I’m going to say it’s safe to assume that the ship’s name must be: “ACSV John B. Ford.”
To be honest, I’m not really a fan. The name doesn’t really match the outer design of the ship. I expected something like the “Spectre” or the “Blackhawk”. But John B. Ford sounds like something you’d name an old cargo ship, not a state of the art military vessel made for war.
“Is John B. Ford somebody famous or historically influential in the DRAC territories?”
I look to Anna, who has already closed both airlock doors, and begun the compression test. All the while leaving bloody footprints all over the seemingly brand new carpet.
She just looks at me and gives me a “No idea” shrug.
So she’s never heard of John B. Ford either. Maybe it’s a legacy name? Like how the White Star Line, the owners of Titanic, had three ships named Britannic during their company’s history. The first being launched in 1874, which was later scrapped in 1903. The second, being the most famous of the three being Titanic’s near identical sister ship, was launched in 1914. She, like her older sister Titanic before her, sank in 1916 after she struck a mine serving as a hospital ship during WWI. The third lived the longest, being launched in 1929. She survived the merger between Cunard and the White Star Line, finally being retired in 1961 and scrapped – 32 years later.
I remember I used to be big into old timey ships and especially shipwrecks when I was a kid. For whatever reason, the information just stuck.
I think my personal memories… Might be starting to return...
Because I can clearly recall a childhood memory of me sitting in the library reading a big book on Titanic, and another on various shipwrecks and such. But my more recent memories are… Hazy. All of my really clear important or personal memories are of stuff from when I was younger.
I remember running through the woods with my friends.
I remember playing with toy guys outside with them during the summer.
I remember one winter when the neighbor girl hit the boy down the street in the head with a shovel! I don’t remember what he did to piss her off, I just remember he had a forehead covered in blood.
Heh – And I remember having a really shitty time in school…
But all of my more recent personal memories seem to be random, irrelevant, or wildly incomplete.
The image of that blonde haired girl I recalled earlier keeps nagging at me. Why does she keep popping back into my brain?
Anyway I’m guessing that John B. Ford really is a legacy name.
Then what the Hell is HELIOS then? Is it this ship’s squadron? The name of the fleet it’s assigned to? The shipyard it was made??
As I was pondering, Anna finishes the compression check on the airlock seals. Fortunately there appears to have been no damage when the HMC breached and stormed the ship.
“Okay, I’m all done here, we’re all set to depart.”
“Great, let’s get the Hell out of this place."
□■□
We walk into the cockpit, and once again, I’m surprised by how large it is. Even moreso this time. It is much larger than a regular commercial jet. That big ass windshield definitely opens the room up even more just like I thought it would. Which in turn makes the room a fair bit brighter.
This must be a one way window, because I couldn’t even see it from the outside. It was just all blacked-out.
In front of me is a curved desk with four floor mounted chairs. encircled by a U-shaped orange, almost yellow holographic keyboard. This room's hologram “color theme” seems to be yellowish orange with those orange floor mounted hazard lights, and the numerous orange vertical holographic lists displaying different types of data around the desk.
Various displays hang from the ceiling, and several on the walls. The walls and floor are all white, with black carbon fiber around the windshield, and some bare metal accent walls near the rear of the helm.
On both sides of the entrance, each in their own slightly recessed little alcoves, are two corner benches which look like something you’d see in an airport.
Ah, the old airport theme – A bold interior design choice.
It’s missing the familiar “airport smell” though.
This whole section is guard railed off, overlooking the flight deck. With hazy silver metal stairs on either side of the desk leading down to the flight deck.
On the flight deck are four more chairs, stationed at the “dashboard” of the ship. Each chair has different system controls and instrument clusters. So each chair must fulfill a specific purpose.
Assuming the desk up top also plays a role in operating this ship, having eight chairs to pilot one ship seems a bit excessive – No?
Liz is currently seated at the center left chair on the flight deck, with Ionna standing closely beside her.
Also – Ionna currently has a Shredder pointed directly at Liz’s head with a remorseful expression on her face.
Liz swivels her chair to face me.
“So tell me – Did you break me out of here only to kill me on my own ship?”
“Ah, I’m sorry – Ionna you can put the gun down now.”
Ionna happily lowers the gun, and bows several times to Liz.
“I’m very, very sorry about that Liz I-“
“I know – You couldn’t help it. Anyway are we good to… What the Hell happened to you!?”
At that moment Anna, the Blood Countess, walks down the stairs to the flight deck.
“Explanations can come later. Anyway we’re all set to depart, please take off immediately.”
“Umm… Well, okay…” Liz says turning her chair back, clearly unnerved by Anna’s macabre appearance.
Liz must really think she’s been rescued by a couple of psychos, and frankly I don’t blame her.
Our first impression literally couldn’t be any worse.
“Did you take care of the defensive turrets?” Asks Liz.
“They won’t be a problem. Nor will there be any pursuers. You are free to do normal takeoff procedures. Just make sure you engage shields and keep thrusters under 15% until we’re out of range of the station.” Anna responds with abject certainty.
Liz scruches up her face, dubious of Anna’s words. Then gives an exasperated sigh.
“Engaging VTOL engines. Activating primary life support systems.”
The ground below us vibrates, as the view from the windshield begins to slightly sway.
“Retracting landing gear – Check. Engaging primary thrusters 5%.”
The ship begins to slowly drift forward. A warbled sound washes over us as the ship passes through the plasma barrier.
“Annnnd – We’re clear. Engaging shields, increasing thrusters to 10%.”
A debris alert flashes across the windshield, as a heads-up display begins to highlight seemingly empty space with hundreds of red boxes.
“An error? There’s no way they have this much debris this close to their base…” Mumbles Liz.
“It’s no error. Does this ship have rear mounted optical recording devices?” Asks Anna, with a proud, gentle smile affixed to her face.
“That’s called a camera Anna.” I say, correcting her needlessly complex terminology.
“A what?”
“A camera. Everytime you call it an optical recording device, I get a headache. Please just call it a camera.” I say, rubbing the bridge of my nose.
“Never once heard anyone call it a camera, but yeah it does.” Says Liz, glancing dubiously at me, before looking to Anna.
“Please engage them.”
Liz shrugs and then presses some buttons on the holographic keyboard which appears beside her.
In the corner of the windshield, and across all displays inside the helm, an image of a massive asteroid appears on screen.
The asteroid is covered in solar panels and defensive turrets. Certain areas have steel structures and towers jutting from them like malignant growths.
Both Ionna and I drop our guns to the floor in unison, mouths agape.
The station…
…It’s in half.
“W-what the Hell is this?...” I mutter, taking off my mask and tossing it to the floor.
“T-they’re all…” Staggers Ionna.
Thousands upon thousands of frozen corpses drift lifelessly around the station. I can see mercenaries and therians alike, along with various types of livestock animals. The broken and mangled husk of the station form a horrific image of shattered stone, and twisted steel. Bright blue sparks flicker from inside the station, where I can see the remnants of the Fortune District, and small sections of the Therianthrope District. The Auroria still standing with half its windows completely blown out. The Cerro Gordo a half standing pile of rubble. The train suspended mid-air with its cars still attached, hooked underneath the warped frame of the bridge that once went across the tracks. As all the lights oscillate between a glitchy display of vibrant colors, and total darkness.
I sense an uncanny aura of unimaginable joy radiating out from behind me.
“…Heh…”
I turn to see Anna, whose blood dyed face is grinning ear to ear. Her eyes manic and crazed.
“Heh heh...”
“Heh heh heh…”
“Heheheheheheh…”
“GEEEAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!”
Anna breaks into the most shrill, psychotic display of laughter I have ever seen a person make. Instinctively I step back from her.
“I DID IT!!! SISTERS, WE FINALLY DID IT!!! HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT HELLMAN!?!? ENJOY SLAVERY YOU PIECE OF SHIT!!!!!”
She's trembling with absolute joy, arms held wide basking in the glow of her grand accomplishment. There is absolutely zero remorse or sorrow in her aura. Just a heartless level of fervor I can only describe as pure, unbridled ecstasy.
“A-Anna… What… What the Hell am I looking at?...” I stammer out.
Anna’s crazed eyes meet mine, causing me to flinch.
“Justice – It took years of preparation, but finally, at last… It was all worth it…” She says, smiling a sick grin.
W-Wait… The bombs – They did this much damage!?!?
“Y-you told me the explosion wouldn’t spread past B-Wing!!!”
“And it didn’t.” She calmly replies, dropping her arms to her sides. “I never once lied to you Master.”
“THEN WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU CALL THAT!?!” I shout, pointing to the absolute graveyard we just created.
I don’t know how many people we just massacred, but there are thousands floating out there right now. Maybe even tens of thousands. HOW ARE YOU NOT PERTURBED BY THIS ANNA!?!?!
Anna smirks, and tilts her head.
“Tell me Master – How much do you know about geological cleavage and fracturing?”
I pause - Geological cleavage and fracturing?
Wait… She didn't…
“B-but y-you couldn’t have known there was a fault line there… There’s just no way!!”
She grins, “I did tell you that there were multiple tunnel systems throughout the station, did I not?”
-Oh my God.
She did it…
She really did it…
There are 3 basic types of rocks: Sedimentary, igneous, and metamorphic.
Sedimentary rocks are built up slowly over time through accumulating mineral deposits.
Igneous rocks are formed from the cooling and solidification of molten rock – Either lava or magma. Depending on the speed and conditions in which igneous rocks are cooled, will significantly influence an igneous rock’s structure and appearance.
Metamorphic rocks are created through a transformation process deep within a planet’s crust. Through heat and pressurization, and sometimes chemical processes, metamorphic rocks are formed.
Asteroids are classified as a sedimentary conglomerate. Meaning it’s made up of tons of tiny little mineral particles that have somehow stuck together, and built up gradually over time. Eventually forming one big giant rock floating through space.
Sedimentary and ingenious rocks are the most prone to cleavage and fracturing due to their porous or layed structures. Whereas metamorphic rocks tend to be much denser due to the pressures exerted on them during their formation.
Anna knew this, and took full advantage of the asteroid's structural weakness caused by its porous nature.
She tricked the therians into building a tunnel directly above the Surplus Heavy Ordinance Depot, thus creating an artificial fault line.
She used the bombs like a wedge through wood, splitting the station completely in half.
Using the trust and faith the other therians had in her, she literally had them become the architects of their own demise.
Instinctively I step between her and Ionna, who looks like her brain has flatlined in complete disbelief.
“What you’re seeing right now is an accumulation of countless contingency plans I’ve made throughout the years.” Anna says with glowing pride. “My original plan was to build up frustration amongst the mercenaries, eventually triggering a revolt, by suggesting the debt based subscription model.”
She gives an exasperated sigh. “But… Unfortunately that never worked out.”
“Wait – You’re the one who convinced Hellman to make everything a subscription model!?”
She gives a smug grin, “Originally the tunnels and subscription model, which was a product of Lior and I’s brainstorming, was to offset and avoid the abuse we therians were facing on a daily basis. Originally the station was just an orderless free-for-all. Mercenaries weren’t even charged for our services. We needed a way to improve our odds of survival, but sell it as a way beneficial to Hellman. The subscription and appointment model substantially improved therian living conditions, and reduced deaths by a sizeable margin. But after Lior’s death – Everything changed…”
Her smiling face transitions to ice.
“I realized that this entire organization needed to be burned to the ground. I needed to end this madness once and for all. To do that, I needed Hellman’s ear – His trust. So I pretended that he was my destined master, and convinced him to build the Therianthrope District, the Fortune District, to change the subscription model to one that encouraged debt to offset payroll costs, and to convert the station into a tourist destination which would become an immensely profitable source of sustainable income.”
She gives a wide, sadistic grin, “Slowly but surely, I pushed Hellman deeper and deeper into the red. He was so sure his investments would eventually pay off. He even started calling me his ‘Little Silver Mine’, and would blindly listen to most of my advice. I was the one who convinced him to buy those Reclamation War bombs, knowing they’d be unstable.”
“T-then why didn’t you detonate them sooner?? Why now!?”
“I couldn’t. Despite having the bombs in place, a bomb I could detonate them with, the tunnels fully dug out, and the ability to close doors set as a secondary power process, I couldn’t carry it out because of my CS. Like holding a gun, but being physically unable to pull the trigger. That was the wall I kept running into over and over again. That bomb we used to detonate the stockpile was originally part of a plan to destroy the primary and auxiliary cooling pumps to the reactor. Along with the emergency reactor ejection system. Thus forcing a-“
“-Positive void coefficient…” Interjects Liz, who has turned to us, looking at Anna with narrowed eyes. “You’re insane. You weren’t simply trying to kill everyone in that station. Had that plan worked out, those people would have suffered the worst deaths imaginable. You wanted to make them suffer.”
She nods in admittance, “I won't deny that – If you experienced even a fraction of what we have on a daily basis, especially at the station’s initial construction, you would want to do the same.”
“If you c-couldn’t carry out your plans, why did you make those splinter bars??” I ask.
“By complete coincidence, during a certain incident where I tripped and accidentally stabbed a mercenary in the leg with a salad fork, a few bruises later I found out I could actually harm them if the act was deemed inadvertent. So I kept testing the limits of my CS. What it deemed acceptable and what it deemed traitorous or hostile. I constructed the splinter bars with the hopes I could shoot the mercenaries while looking away, or keeping my eyes closed. Unfortunately that never worked out as my CS deemed it as a conscious act.”
“You broke through your SCS...” Liz mutters.
“Her what??”
“Her SCS – Subconscious Compliance Subroutine. Most people know of the CS system. Everybody has one, but for the vast majority of people, it will remain deactivated for the entirety of their lives. The SCS however is activated on all people with a central neural implant. But unlike the CS, which is like a sturdy brick wall, the SCS is like a thin, invisible sheet of fabric. It bends and flexes with the user’s mental state, and is designed to keep the user’s actions within acceptable limitations, without them being aware that their decisions and conclusions may not actually be their own. It keeps people from revolting against the DRAC government, and forces them to vote for politicians the government wishes to see win.”
“Such a thing exists? That… Actually explains a lot…” Asks Anna, bringing her hand to her chin with a deeply contemplative expression.
Apparently Anna didn’t even know of the SCS’s existence. Who exactly is Liz?
“Yes, and the fact you didn’t know about it is by design. The SCS is a fragile thing. Some people are born with higher resistances to it, some gain a resistance to it simply by how their personality forms, and some resist it through sheer force of will. In all 3 cases, it oftentimes ends with people shattering through it. We call these people ‘Abnormals.’ All pirates, criminals, and revolutionaries are Abnormals.” Liz further expounds.
This “Democratic Republic” is truly a dystopian nightmare.
“That still doesn’t explain why you were in the central hub instead of the party tonight. Nor does it explain why Bradley, Lior’s murderer, was reassigned to the Export Box on your suggestion.” I sternly question.
Anna points to Liz.
“I was planning to kill her.” She says in a monotoned voice.
Liz’s brow furrows.
“Although I could not kill or harm the mercenaries directly, Liz is not considered Hellman’s property, nor is she part of the HMC. Therefore I could harm her without my CS activating.”
Liz ponders for a moment, eyes rapidly shifting, before coming to a revelation.
“It was you! You’re the one who tipped Hellman off that I’d most likely be using the Fennway System’s EMT!”
Anna gives a wry smile, “Guilty as charged. When I saw your bounty posted, I knew I couldn’t let this opportunity pass. It was exactly what I needed to finish Hellman off for good. So I compiled all the data I could and extrapolated that the path you were most likely to use was through the Fennway System. Which was remote, had minimal traffic, and possessed a completely unmanned EMT.”
“Woah, woah – What’s an EMT?” I ask.
“How do you not know what an EMT is? It’s an Electromagnetic Transport Station.” Liz explains.
“Long story, I’ll explain later. So it’s like a railgun?”
“An accurate description. They work on the same basic principles as an EMR, or Electromagnetic Railgun. EMTs are public-use installations which orbit around a star, and act like a cannon but for ships. They are used to get from one star system to another using less fuel, and in much faster time. Sometimes they have one or more fixed routes which can only be used at certain times of year depending on where they’re at in their orbit, and whether or not the route is clear. Sometimes they can freely be aimed at the pilot’s own risk. Oftentimes they’re manned by a crew. But if the system is rural enough, they’ll usually let the pilot choose their own destination. I chose the Fennway System because it was an unmanned station.”
Liz points to Anna with an irritated expression.
“And she had them ambush me there!”
“If it’s any consolation, I am genuinely sorry. It wasn’t anything personal. I just needed a way to convince Hellman to spend lots of money in a short period of time, thus sealing his fate. Your bounty gave him the illusion of a safety net. So I convinced him to make a collosal non-refundable down-payment on a new fleet, weapons, and supplies, throw a massive party in the Fortune District to recoup some of the losses and give the HMC some fiscal breathing room until next month's loan payments, while simultaneously limiting the amount of guards in A-Wing. If I killed you, and maybe even destroyed the ship had my CS allowed it, he never would have been able to pay his debts off, and would eventually be turned into a slave. As for Bradley… He would have taken the fall for Liz’s death, and likely would have faced being forced into slavery along with Hellman.”
Liz clicks her tongue, and turns her chair back towards the controls. Opting to focus on piloting the ship, rather than losing her shit at Anna.
“Anna… Did you bring me here tonight?”
“No.” She says with absolute straight-faced sincerity. “As I said Master, I have never once lied to you. I may not have been completely forthright about everything, but not once have I told you something that was untrue. Please Master - Forgive me.”
Anna kneels down before me, bowing in full dogeza form, with her head pressed against the floor.
I feel like my brain is making dial-up tones.
I can’t detect a hint of insincerity in Anna’s words. The aura emanating from her is that of genuine remorse. Not for the people that she full-scale slaughtered, but for not being completely honest with me.
She’s been using me from the very beginning. Everything that has happened tonight has been because of her. She’s orchestrated all of it.
She’s been playing word games with me. Skirting around the truth without explicitly lying. Withholding information when it was convenient for her, and keeping me in the dark the whole way through.
I figured she wanted revenge, but this… This is…
The mercenaries we killed tonight I can find a way to mentally justify to myself. Many, if not most of them were abusive pieces of shit. Not to mention when they signed up for this gig, they knew there was a chance they might die. I can accept that we killed them.
But the therians though…
They were people.
Innocent people.
People I thought Anna genuinely cared for.
Most of the therians I've encountered thus far seemed like genuinely gentle, and kindhearted souls.
That Bovine therian Anna encountered in the Therianthrope District genuinely cared for Anna. She loved her like a sister.
…And Anna massacred all of them.
…I was wrong about Anna.
I had thought that she was trying to rescue the therians in this place, while getting revenge on Hellman and the HMC’s top leadership.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
I think back to our conversation in front of the entrance to the tunnel in the Fortune District.
Anna questioned if she deserved her newfound happiness, and referred to herself as a terrible person.
At the time I thought it was nothing more than survivor’s guilt, but now I realize… It was a confession.
She knew what was going to happen, what she was about to do.
She hardened her heart in order to fulfill her mission without hesitation.
I… I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to look at her the same way again.
Not now at least. Not tonight.
I’m not going to be able to sleep for weeks.
“…And when you said I was your destined master, and that you’d serve me forever?...”
“All true – I will stay by your side until my dying breath if you will have me.” She says without a second’s hesitation.
It’s true that without her, I never would have made it out of there alive. She kept her promise to return to me alive. She kept her promise to explain everything to me. She kept her promise to do everything in her power to make sure we both left there alive.
But still… I…
"I… I think I need some time to process all this Anna. This is… Too much for me at once…”
She raises her head, with a face stricken with guilt.
“…I understand.”
Just then I hear a trembling voice behind me.
“…Kill you…”
Huh?
“I’M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU!!!!!!”
Ionna flies like lightning around me, and lunges at Anna, tackling her to the floor. She begins pummeling Anna in a blind fury, as she desperately tries to cover her face.
“S-STOP!!!”
I run over and try pulling Ionna off Anna. She has the strength of a rhino. I can’t move her an inch. It’s like she’s made of solid lead.
“RISHKA, BELI, MAIN, TERESE, FABLE – YOU MURDERED ALL OF THEM!!! WE TRUSTED YOU!!!!”
“I ORDER YOU TO STOP!!!”
Ionna freezes, her fist trembling in a seething, white hot rage. Her breathing is rapid, tears pouring from her swollen and bloodshot eye down her flushed red cheeks.
Anna turns to her side, coughing out blood, and spitting out broken bits of teeth.
I drag Ionna off of Anna, while she kicks and flails. She lands a blow directly on Anna’s stomach, forcing all of the air from her lungs, causing her to choke and wheeze.
Ionna is way, way heavier than she looks. She, like Rubrum, must have highly densified muscles, making her significantly heavier than a normal adult. She’s probably heavier than I am, despite being shorter and more slender framed.
“I forbid you two from harming each other in any way! Do you understand!?! That includes directly or indirectly harming each other! Anna, are you okay!?”
Anna gets on all fours, hacking out more blood and bits of broken enamel. She gives me a shakey thumbs up, and manages to cough out the words: “They’ll… They’ll grow back.”
I guess Anna must be part shark, because having the molars punched out of her skull is apparently only a minor inconvenience.
“LET ME GO! ALL MY SISTERS ARE DEAD BECAUSE OF HER!!!”
Ionna’s monsterous strength has immediately subsided since I ordered her to stop, but yet she’s still flailing and fighting me. I drag her up onto my lap, and hug her tight. Anna said Kitsune are the most difficult type of therianthrope slave to train, this is what she must have been talking about. Because I’m pretty sure if I let her go, she’s going to make a beeline for Anna and begin pummeling her again.
“I can’t do that Ionna, I’m sorry.”
Ionna is bawling hysterically, sticken with unimaginable feelings of grief, loss, confusion, betrayal, and pure, unbridled fury.
“I… Don’t blame you for hating me…” Anna says, blood sputtering from her swelling lips. “But death was a far better fate than being sold second-hand… You of all people should know that…”
Ionna stops flailing, and glares daggers at Anna, trembling with boiling emotions.
“Fuck you.”
I hug her close, resting my chin on her shoulder trying to ease her pain, if only a little bit. She eventually leans over and rests her head against mine, as she weeps softly into my cheek.
I look to Liz.
“Liz, I know you’re probably pretty pissed at us too. But do you have a shower Anna can use?...Please?”
Liz pauses, as if deciding something, before finally sighing to herself and turning to Anna.
“Yeah... Past the war room, third door on the left is the Officer’s Head. My soap is laying on my bed in the Captain’s Quarters, first door on the left. The Clinic is the last door on the right. Get yourself some Retrogen, and pull those busted teeth out before they get infected. Then bring Max two doses of Vitagel for his fingers.”
Anna stumbles to her feet, leaning against the wall for support, nodding.
“Thank you… And… I truly am sorry. You are free to hate me if you wish. But please don’t hold my actions against my Master. He had nothing to do with any of this.”
“Just get out of here before I change my mind about letting you two stay here. Make sure you throw those clothes and the chunks of… Whatever you got all over you in the trash incinerator before you get in the shower. I’d rather not have that shit in the water purification system.” Liz says before promptly turning around.
Liz might be pissed with us, but I can tell she’s got a good heart.
Anna looks to me, then to the weeping Ionna I’m comforting in my arms, and then looks away.
She staggers out of the room without saying a word.
