New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

Today, I heard someone die.

Kade looked at his words, watching them hang on the semi-transparent screen and hated himself.

Making a turn of phrase, using his snappy tricks in writing to emphasize or draw attention or bring up the drama of a moment felt so cheap when he was talking about reality.

I think it was the one who sold out the colony to the pirates.  He was wailing last night, crying and trying to get us to forgive him.  No one would talk to him, and eventually he entreated the guards for his promised deal.  When they ignored him he started screaming for anything.

The Greggans got annoyed and gave him a bullet.

Maybe they’re going to get in trouble now.  They argued about it amongst themselves; I thought they were about to start shooting each other, what with their grunting and shoving and threats, but eventually they moved on and started drinking.

Maybe it was partly survivor’s guilt, he thought, trying to ascribe some sort of understanding to his own emotions.

His writing had turned technical; cold descriptives.  Was that really more respectful or not?

There was a banging on the bars of his cage that made him jump.

“Hey, writer!  Wakey-wakey!  You hungry, yah?”

It was the human pirate again.

“Hi Surc,” he said carefully, turning off his screen.  He saw the man’s eyes go to it, a hunger in them.

“Brought you more good food,” he said, still looking at the dark screen.

“Thanks, I really appreciate it,” Kade said, sliding closer to the bars.  He reached for the container Surc held.

The man jerked it back a foot.  “‘Afore I give it.  Captain wants an update on his story.  You making him seem brave, yah?  Unconquerable?”  He jiggled the can as encouragement.

“I’m making good progress, but I really want it to be fantastic,” Kade said.  He reached out for the can.  Surc didn’t taunt him anymore, letting him take it.

“You better be,” Surc said, his expression going sour.  “Lemme look, then I tell him how great it’ll be.  Yah?”

Kade looked at the container.  It was beans and bacon inside, like the last one.  He’d had these before, they were a semi-precious meal on the colony, though one he had rarely.  Kind of rich for his palate.  But it was better than a bowl of algae paste.

“Best not,” Kade said carefully.  “The Captain wouldn’t want that.”

“He say it’s fine,” Surc insisted, his tone edged.

“I’d have to hear him tell me,” Kade said.

Surc punched the cage, making it clang loudly.  Kade flinched.

“Damn it, show me!” Surc snapped.  “You don’t need your legs to write, I’ll break both kneecaps, how you like that?  No one to blame but yoself!”

“Hey, man, it’s what the Captain said-“

Surc lunged an arm through the bars and grabbed for him.  There was no room to escape, and Kade felt the man’s clammy hand grab his ankle.

Despite the man’s skinny frame, his grip was like iron, and when he yanked, Kade thought for a moment his hip had been pulled from its socket.  He cried out, trying to grab the bars.  Another yank broke his grip, more through shock than anything else.

“You think this fuckin’ game, boy?  You’re fuckin’ meat!”

His other hand jabbed through the bars, a glint of light, and Kade felt a sharp pain send shock through him, and a scream escaped his lips.

“Gonna fuckin’ carve you like a pig!” Surc spit, raising his knife hand again awkwardly through the bars.

A large shadow loomed behind him, and a beefy hand slapped onto the top of his head.  Surc’s eyes widened as he was yanked back, thrown across the deck.

Kade had never thought he’d be this glad to see one of the guards, and he crawled away, his ankle stinging where Surc’s grip had been pulled off, and his leg burning with pain where the knife had stabbed him.

The Greggan made loud barks and grunts at the human pirate, only a few words of which Kade’s translator were able to decipher.

“Hurt no Captain’s Pet!” it belched, stomping over.

“He was causin’ trouble, lyin’ about the captain!” Surc moaned.

“No, I wasn’t!” Kade cried out in panic.

The Greggan ignored them both.  It grabbed Surc by the head again, lifting him up.  The man screamed, scrambling to grab its arm and get his feet planted.

He was slammed against a bulkhead, his head held there.

“No.  Hurt.  Pet.  You stupid?  Fuckin’ human.  Captain vented should have you.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Surc moaned.  The Greggan made a sound that Kade’s translator didn’t even bother with, but the feeling was clear enough.  The guard dropped Surc and he crumbled, then it slapped him across his face and head with its wide hand.

It sent him crashing onto his side, and he started to crawl away.  The Greggan made a mock-charge at him and the man scrambled away on hands and knees faster than anyone Kade had ever seen.

The Greggan turned back to Kade.

The pain in his leg was drawing more and more his attention, and he reached down with trembling hands to his opened pant leg.  Pushing the cloth open, he saw dark red and almost fainted.

“Up,” the Greggan grumbled, opening the door.

“H-he cut me . . .  I’m hurt,” Kade said, feeling like he was in shock.

The Greggan grunted and reached down, grabbing him on the shoulder and hauling him up.  He didn’t want to put weight on his injured leg, but the Greggan put its arm out next to him.

“Stand,” it said.  “Lean.”

Kade had no idea why the guard was being this thoughtful – he had thought it had been about to drag him off.

But he didn’t want to question it, either.  Leaning on the offered arm, and shivering slightly at the cold, slightly damp feel of its skin, he hopped along.

He thought it was taking him to some kind of medic.  But as they went on and on through halls, the pain in his leg grew and he started to feel flush.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“Captain,” the Greggan grunted.

“I- I’m bleeding,” Kade said plaintively.

It ignored him.  He started slowing down, panic and fear growing.  He was going to bleed out and die . . .

By the time they entered the bridge he was panting.

The room gave him pause, though, and a cold fear, rather than the hot panic he’d been feeling, slithered into his gut.

The room was dim; he could barely make out the far side, and it was deathly quiet.  None of the raucous noise of the bridge crew could be heard.

A group of Greggans stood near the Captain, but they had all fallen silent, it seemed, looking at him with expressions that seemed to range from very unhappy to murderous.

“And why this now, Cap’n?” one asked, gesturing to him.  “Why this human special?  You want story?  Any of us kill any other for that right.”

Tarsota did not reply to them, his eyes moving to Kade, watching him intently for a moment.

“You throwin’ all away!” another Greggan grumbled, waving its flipper-like arms in the air.  “They know who you are now.  We worked so hard to keep them from-“

His words seemed to be a catalyst, and the whole group of pirates began to talk, their words going over each other, their frustration clear even without a translator.

“My boys spent six cyles on stims to scrub all the traces-“

“-lost half our shuttles and didn’t even get to use-“

“-feedin’ these prisoners is gettin’ too costly-“

“Enough,” Tarsota grumbled, his voice so strong and deep that the floor itself seemed to shiver in fear.  “Get out.”

As he spoke, Tarsota reached and slowly, almost gently caressed one of the many trophies on his chair.

Kade realized it was a Greggan skull, a fresh one at that.

Perhaps from the pirate he’d had executed right here, Kade thought.

The crowd of Greggans quailed, turning and stumbling away, though at moments they paused to look back, as if regaining their composure.

Yet when they looked at Tarsota and that skull, they lost their nerve again and fled, until it was only the captain, Kade, and the guard who had brought him.

“Here he is, Captain,” the guard said.  Something in its voice was different, and Kade was shocked to realize that it was fear.  “Just like you said.”

“Good,” Tarsota grumbled.  “Loyal still.  Now leave.”

Despite the praise, the guard seemed even more terrified, and he ran off so quickly that Kade almost fell, still having been leaning against it.

He caught himself, the pain in his leg forgotten.

In the dim light, Captain Tarsota looked even worse.  His strips of skin were blackened and shrivelled, and strange ichor was running down his uniform.  Parts of his skin looked shrunken, shrivelled and cracked, while others were bloated and paler.  He was breathing loudly, laboriously, through an open mouth.

His eyes still looked bright, however, and they rotated to look at him again.

“Your words,” he said, his voice so deep that Kade thought he felt it.

He took a few timid steps forward, up to the platform.  Drones moved quickly between him and the Captain, one snatching the small computer he’d been using for the writing.

It connected, and he saw a small flicker of light in the Greggan’s eye as his HUD brought up the file.

His eyes went over the words, and Kade tried to remember what he’d written about the captain.

My powers of description are insufficient to describe the greatness of Captain Tarsota.  Who could stand to such a gargantuan task?

When I first joined the pirate’s crew, I believed the stories I had been told – that he was mad, that he was a monster.  Silly stories told to scare children by people who were blind!

He is monstrous in his grandeur and might, cruel and implacable in battle, but kind to his followers, as if they were his own children-

The Captain made a sound of irritation, almost flinching away.

“Enough,” he growled, the floor definitely feeling like it was rumbling slightly.

Kade shivered, his knees almost giving way.

“Your words are like pretty lights.  Not real.”  His eyes slowly rotated, his head turning, until all four were set on him.  “Not truth.”

I’m about to die, Kade thought.  He’d had only one value to the Captain, and now he hadn’t even done that right.

“Take.  Read.  Then write the truth.  No glamor.  No pretty.  Truth – good.  Bad.  All of.”

Kade’s HUD lit up as a new file was received.

It was the Captain’s personal logs.  They went back . . . decades, it seemed.  The early years were sparse, but in the last few months there was a new log almost every day.

“Go,” the Captain said.

The drones pressed towards him, and Kade stumbled back, his mind still numb.  He turned, tripping again as he began to run for the door.

It opened and he shot through, stopped by the huge arms of two guards.

Kade fought them for a moment, still in panic, until he saw the Sepht approaching.

It was an old member of its species, he could tell from the wrinkles on its skin.  But its eyes were bright, and his HUD informed him that it was a medic.

“Doctor order,” one of the Greggan guards said.

They dragged him away from the door, to the side of the hall and shoved him down to the floor.  He yelped as his leg hit, but then the Sepht had it in her gnarled hands.

She took one look at his leg.  “It’s barely a scratch!” she said.

---

< Ep 10 Part 21 | Ep 10 Part 23 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

“Captain, I was wondering if I may speak with you.”

The hour was late, by the ship’s clock, when the message came in.

Brooks always had a public line available for people who wished to speak with him.  It was rare for anyone to use it; most issues that involved civilians were matters for Administration, and people knew that; even the AI that directed calls to this line would helpfully inform them of the fact, and Zeela Cann had a team who fielded and sorted and often solved such calls.

Normally he was somewhat pleased to get a message, even at this late hour, but when he saw the sender, he paused.

Father Cathal Sair had just joined the ship, and Brooks had not had a chance to meet the man formally.

Urle had approved him, and Brooks trusted his judgment here – plus he had a level of curiosity about the man and his potential connections.

He hadn’t expected the man to reach out on his own, however, not to him directly.

He answered the message.

“What is it that I can do for you, Father Sair?”

He looked up the man’s location, and was surprised to find that he was out in the public waiting room nearby.

“I would like to speak to you in person, if possible, Captain.”

“Very well,” Brooks replied. “Enter.”

His system sent the man a limited pass to allow him through, and in a few moments the door to his study opened, the Father standing there.

He was young; Brooks knew that, of course, his age was listed as only twenty-six in Earth reckoning, but he looked even younger than that.

Nevertheless, he had a calmness of spirit behind his bright green eyes, and Brooks found his curiosity piqued still further.

“Come in and sit,” he said.

“Thank you for seeing me at such a late hour,” Sair began.

“I was still awake,” Brooks told him.  “What is it you wished to speak with me about?”

Sair sat down, his expression still calm.  “Rumors have spread since we have come out on this pirate hunt, Captain.  The nature of the hunt, that a vessel as famous as the Craton has been called into action, have naturally led to this.”

“Rumors spread easily, but are just as easily false,” Brooks replied.

“But not always.  I suspect that one of these rumors may be true,” Sair said.

“And what rumor is that?”

Sair’s answer was straightforward.  “That these pirates possess relic technology.”

Brooks kept his surprise off his face, not wanting to betray anything.  “And you truly believe that this rumor is true?”

“Yes, Captain.  I am . . . somewhat unique, you might say.  Like Apollonia Nor, I am what you would call a Cerebral Reader.”

“That is news to me,” Brooks said.  “Why did you not tell us this when you requested to join the ship?”

“I was not asked,” Sair replied.

It was true; that was not a typical question, they were just too rare.  Still, though, Brooks thought that the man should have volunteered it in one of the many places the application left open-ended questions about personal details.

He let it go for now, however.  “And your abilities make you believe the stories?”

“Yes.  I am aware, for example, that the ship is resonating.  I can hear it, captain – it’s a kind of ringing or humming, depending on my location in the ship.”

Now that was interesting.  “That vindicates the rumors?”

“In a sense.  I cannot say I have ever encountered relic technology before, but I am aware of its nature – or rather, the nature stories lend to it.  However, we all feel confident that it is tenkionic, yes?  And in the presence of tenkionic matter, at least strongly tenkionic matter, I have found a similar effect.”

“What sort of tenkionic matter have you encountered?” Brooks asked.

“This ship, though I believe because it is spread out so much that it does not typically ring.  But in my order we have several minor relics that behave similarly.  It is a strange phenomenon, but it leads me to a single conclusion; that something was near the ship that was very powerful.  It left, with the pirates, but its effect remains.”

“That is all very interesting, but there are a lot of assumptions in there,” Brooks said.  “You have not been on the Craton long – with respects, how do you know that this is not just typical behavior for being on a vessel that is, itself, mildly tenkionic?”

“I suppose I cannot prove that,” Sair said.  “But I know someone who can.  Could Apollonia Nor join us?”

Brooks leaned back.  “It’s rather late to be calling her.  I imagine she’s asleep, Father Sair.”

“She is not,” the man replied.  “She came with me and is waiting outside.”

This time the surprise did show on Brooks’s face.  He checked his system and saw that what the man said was true.

He messaged her.  “Will you join us?”

She sent back an automatic affirmative and he opened the door as she approached.

“Hi,” she said quickly, entering and sitting down easily in the second chair across from his desk.  “So Cathal and I were talking-” she began.

“I did not know you were on a first-name basis,” Brooks said, intending it lightly, but surprised as his words sounded slightly harsh to his own ears.

“Well, we met on Gohhi,” Apollonia said, waving it away without a care.  “I’ve been hearing this strange ringing, it was driving me nuts.  But then when we spoke he told me he was hearing it, too, so we went to pray and then-“

“You went to pray?” Brooks asked.

“He said the focus would help,” she replied.  “I think it did.  I mean, I never really believed in the Tedian stuff, so like whatever.  But anyway-“

“I’m sorry,” Brooks said.  “But you were in pain – did you talk to Dr. Y about it?”

“I didn’t want to bother him again with just a headache,” Apollonia replied.

Brooks frowned, but did not press it further.  “My apologies.  Please continue what you were saying.”

“So he thinks the pirates have some relic tech, and I told him-“

She cut herself off this time, eyes widening.  Brooks said nothing.

“I, uh . . . didn’t really tell him much,” she said.  “Just . . . things I thought.  Not related to things I was told.”

Brooks kept his eyes on her, not blinking.

“To be honest, Captain,” Father Sair said, leaning forward.  “She only spoke of the common rumors, neither confirming nor denying anything.  I give you my word.”

Brooks still had his eyes on Apollonia, and she seemed to be shrivelling back into her seat.

“Apollonia,” Brooks began.  “Do you hear this ‘hum’ or sound as well?”

“Yes,” she said, still looking alarmed.

“Have you ever heard it on the ship before?”

“No,” she said, her voice meek.

He finally looked to Father Sair.  “You said the sound changes based on where you are on the ship, yes?”

“Yes,” Sair said.

He glanced to Apollonia.  She nodded.  “That’s one of the things we talked about!” she added quickly.  “We both noticed it in the same areas.”

Brooks projected a three-dimensional map of the ship, sharing it to them.  Apollonia held up her tablet to see it, squinting and leaning closer.

“What areas are strongest?” Brooks asked.

They both pointed to the same side.  It coincided with the locations of strongest resonance that Cenz and Urle had found – though he had not shared that data in the hologram.

“Has it changed?” he asked.

“Yes,” Sair said immediately.  “At first I felt it strongest here.”  He pointed to a different area.  “Though it was weaker, it was definitely present.”

Apollonia looked uncertain.  “I had started to hear it then, and it was stronger or weaker, but I’m not sure where it was strongest – I wasn’t paying that much attention to the location.  Oh, wait, but I do recall it becoming nearly unbearable when I got to corridor 7, level 42.  I remember because I . . . well, I kicked a pot and dented it.  I kind of felt bad about it afterward.”

Cenz had limited data from the first colony, but there was some.  The automated ship sensors had taken some note of the strange resonance, and while it was not as precise or certain – it did seem to match both of their words.

“Thank you for bringing this to my attention,” he said calmly.  His eyes went to Apollonia.  “I trust that you both understand the severity of leaking sensitive information, and will behave accordingly.”

“Of course, Captain,” Father Sair said, offering a slight bow from his chair.

“Yessir,” Apollonia said, her voice nearly a squeak.

“Dismissed,” Brooks said, letting his stern gaze linger on Nor.

She fled, Sair leaving at calmer, though still slightly hurried speed after her.

He’d have to keep an eye on their contact.

But there were other things to do right now.

“Cenz,” he said, calling the coral.

His science officer was asleep; or something close to that for his kind.  Brooks waited patiently for the majority of his polyps to awaken.

“Captain, I am here,” Cenz said, his voice managing to convey weariness.

“My apologies for waking you at this hour,” Brooks said.  “But I think I have an idea.  We need to triangulate a position.”

There was a pause, then he heard Cenz’s voice become tinged with excitement.

“Oh!  Yes, Captain . . .  I understand.  But we’ll need one more point of reference, won’t we?”

“Yes,” Brooks replied.  “We’re going to make a jump as soon as we can, and then we’ll know where the pirates are hiding.”

---

< Ep 10 Part 20 | Ep 10 Part 22 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

Urle had not expected Kell to answer his request.  He’d expected even less for Kell to come to his office.

The Shoggoth stood outside his door, and Urle opened it up, hurrying over.

“Ambassador,” he said quickly.  “Please, come in.  Have a seat.”

“No,” Kell said shortly.

Urle recovered quickly.  That was a pretty standard Kellism.  “Ah, that’s fine.  I appreciate you coming so quickly.  I thought it might be harder to get to speak with you-“

“You were wrong,” Kell cut him off.

The Shoggoth seemed as cold as when they’d first met, and Urle felt a twinge of annoyance.

“How have you been doing?” Urle asked him.  “Considering things you saw on Gohhi?  Or in the play about Ussa and Usser?  I hope it was interesting for you.”

“I have not dwelled on either,” Kell said.  “And I am not here for pleasantries.  What is it that you wish?”

Urle shifted.  He had called Kell to ask him for help, but he was not sure how the Shoggoth would know that.  Perhaps just a lucky guess.

“I suppose you’ve heard about our current mission . . .”

“Yes,” Kell replied.

“. . . and of the possibility of encountering relic technology.  If you’re not familiar with it, it is ancient technology that-“

“I have heard the stories,” Kell said flatly.

Urle paused.  “Kell, just . . . could you let me finish a sentence before answering?  Just as a politeness.  It’s considered rude to cut people off.”

“I am aware,” Kell said.  “I will let you finish when what you’re saying is worth hearing.”

Ouch, Urle thought.  The Ambassador was clearly in a mood and pulling no punches today.

“So you know what relic technology is.  I don’t suppose you have some . . . Shoggothy knowledge of it?”

Kell stared at him, unblinking.  He said nothing.

“I will take that as a ‘no’,” Urle said.  “However, the technology is somewhat in your wheelhouse.  It’s got connections to tenkionic-“

“Eldritch technology,” Kell interrupted again.  “And what is it you wish to do with it?”

“Recover it, if possible,” Urle said.  “If the technology is as advanced as stories seem to suggest, it could be a great boon for the Union.”

“That is a mistake,” Kell told him.  “If you encounter such technology, you must destroy it.”

Urle crossed his arms and sat down on the edge of his desk.  “Why?”

“It is dangerous,” Kell replied.

“With respects, Ambassador, so is fusion.  So are zerodrives.  So is oxygen and space travel and chemistry.  We’re well aware that it might be dangerous and are prepared to take precautions, but the potential value outweighs the risks.”

“That is a foolish thought,” Kell replied.  “If you find these pirates, my advice is to destroy them and leave immediately.”

“. . . Is it dangerous to you as well?” Urle asked.

Kell frowned.  “Do you seek a weapon against me?”

Urle let out a frustrated sigh.  “That’s not it at all, Ambassador.  More I was hoping that perhaps, given that we are going to try to acquire it, you might at least help us do so more safely.”

“Let me see if I understand,” Kell replied.  “You wish for me to enter a hostile vessel and help you take dangerous technology.”  He snorted.  “And here I was told recently I must remain safe.”

“Which you didn’t even listen to,” Urle pointed out.  “You went and killed an entire boarding party of Hev.  And then followed me onto a dangerous station.  You seem quite capable of taking care of yourself.”

“I will not help you,” Kell said.  “I refuse to assist you in this.”

Urle was silent for a long moment.  This whole conversation had spiralled out of control quickly, and he felt almost ready to snap at the Ambassador, but he bit his tongue.  “Even if ordered?”

Kell turned and started to walk away.

“Kell, this could go above our heads.  Would you obey if ordered?”

Kell stopped, turning.  He stared at Urle, sending a tingle down the back of his neck.

“No,” Kell replied.

---

< Ep 10 Part 19 | Ep 10 Part 21 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

The Craton had become her home, but right now Apollonia felt less welcome than she had since she’d boarded.

No one was acting differently; if people looked at her, it was just curiosity or a random glance, not a look of disgust or hatred.

But it still felt worse.

She’d scanned herself, but the medical drone had found nothing wrong with her.  No fever, no increased white cell count, nothing except a slight headache, which the drone had explained to her the cause of in excruciating detail.  Something about blood vessels in her temple, and after giving her a mild painkiller it assured her it was nothing serious.

But the painkiller hadn’t helped.

Normally she might ask Y, as she had the other day, but somehow right now . . .

Didn’t she go running to him enough?  He was her friend, sure, but this was just a minor pain.

Even if it made everything feel like it sucked.

It was like there was a high-pitched ringing, but her tablet told her there was no such sound.

She knew she was hearing it though.

“So I’m going crazy,” she said aloud.

A young man passing near her glanced over.

“I’m just going crazy,” she repeated, louder, meeting his eyes.

“Oh, yeah, I have days like that,” he said, nodding sympathetically, then continuing on.

But he probably wasn’t actually going crazy, she thought.

She’d walked this hallway a thousand times, it seemed.  It was brightly lit, with hydroponic plants covering one wall.  More greenery than she’d ever seen outside of an algae vat on New Vitriol.  Even those pipes that were exposed were decorated beautifully in a brassy metal.  She’d taken time one day to peer closely at them and found that they were stylized images of men, women and oxen ploughing fields.  That theme seemed pretty common in Union art, she mused.

Right now, though, it all seemed ominous.  She found herself drifting away from the happy plants and towards the other wall whenever she stopped paying attention.

Was the ringing coming from the plants or pipes?  She asked her tablet in a low voice to check, but it came up with nothing.  If anything it was just confused by the question, going into a topic about how plants liked music.

She shut it up and hurried on before anyone started giving her weird looks.

Coming to an intersection, she turned into a hall that was not lined in plants, but it did no good; she still heard the ringing.

Rubbing her forehead, her head tucked down, she did not notice the man until she walked into him.

“Oh shit!” she hissed.  “Sorry!  I didn’t mean to . . . Oh!”

It was the Priest from Gohhi, who had led her back to the Craton.

She stared openly, jaw slightly agape.  “Since when are you on the ship?” she demanded.

The man smiled at her.  “Hello, Apollonia.  I am pleased to see you again.”

“That doesn’t answer my question!” she snapped back.

Surprise widened his eyes somewhat, and she realized just how rude she was being.  “I mean – it’s good to see you, too!  But why are you here?”

His small smile returned.  “I have joined the ship as a civilian.  Not long after we met, I was ordered to fill a placement that my order had put in for this vessel years ago.  Apparently, I was picked some months ago, but I only discovered the morning I was to board.”  His smile turned into something of a smirk.  “Conveniently, I do not have many belongings, so packing was easy.”

“Oh,” she replied.  A dozen thoughts went through her head.  “Why didn’t you . . . tell me after you came aboard?  You knew I lived on the ship,” she asked, pausing as she realized just how strange a request it was.

“After I came aboard I felt perhaps it would be poor manners to search for you and tell you.  I assumed at some point we would bump into each other – though I admit I did not think it would be literal – and then you would know.”

It was annoyingly reasonable, she thought.  Feeling suddenly very awkward, moreso than she normally did in social situations, she found herself looking down at the floor.

“Well, it’s nice to see you again,” she said.

“Thank you,” the Priest said.  Then, after a moment, he added; “You had already said that, however.”

She looked up, eyes wide, her cheeks burning.

He looked surprised.  “Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” he added quickly.  “I am pleased to have left such a good impression upon you.”

“Well, it’s just that you helped me,” Apollonia said.  “And I’m . . . grateful.  That’s all.”

“Of course,” the Priest replied.  He paused, cocking his head to one side.  “I do not believe I ever introduced myself, however.  I am Father Cathal Sair.”

Apollonia hadn’t even known his name until now.  “I’m, uh . . .  Apollonia Nor.  But you already know that.”

“Thank you for forgiving my rudeness,” he said.  “I should have introduced myself properly before.”

“It’s okay,” she told him.  She was about to continue when she felt a deeper stab of pain from her headache.  She winced – and saw him wince, too.

“Are you having a headache?” she asked.

“Yes,” he admitted.  “I have felt somewhat unwell since the ship’s captain brought us in search of these pirates.  It’s all very exciting, I suppose, I’ve never been on a vessel that may have to be in combat.”

Apollonia ignored the last bit.  “Do you . . . feel like this headache is weird?”

Cathal’s face went into mild confusion, but then shifted to serious.  “Yes.  I know exactly what you mean.”

“So I’m not crazy!” she burst out.

“No, you most certainly are not.  I believe that some of us who are . . . more sensitive to these sorts of things can feel a wrongness in this region of space.”

“It does feel wrong!” Apollonia agreed.  “Dark, though, I just wish I could get rid of it for a little bit.”

Cathal considered.  “I have found some relief through focus . . . have you ever prayed, Apollonia Nor?”

The question was a surprise to her, and she felt awkward again.  “Well . . .  I mean, technically I’m a Reformed Tedeist, I guess, but I never really followed that nonsense.”

Cathal nodded understandingly.  “Some faiths do not call to us as powerfully as others.  I do not mean to be presumptuous, but – why not come and join me in prayer?  Even if you do not believe, the focus on learning them may help.  I will not be offended if you decline to join my faith, of course.”  He smiled again, the slight smirk that bespoke a mischievous nature behind his serious exterior.

Apollonia realized she was smiling.  “Yeah, that sounds good,” she told him.  “Praying, I mean.  It’d be fun.  Or, well, serious?  I guess I can’t even rule out that I might abandon my own true religion of cynicism.  It’s kind of a drag anyway.”

She shut herself up, her cheeks turning red again as she realized she was rambling.  But Father Sair only smiled, seeming genuinely amused, and gestured down the hall in the direction he’d come from.

“Follow me, then.”

---

< Ep 10 Part 18 | Ep 10 Part 20 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

The latest update showed that 95% of the debris had been cleared from orbit above the colony, and all pieces large enough to be of concern.

Confirming what Commander Gresset had said about the hostages being taken by earlier shuttles, they had found no bodies among the debris, though a lot of pieces of equipment from the colony.

As relieved as Brooks felt not to be finding dead colonists from the destroyed ships, he was frustrated they hadn’t learned more.

The clear and prime reason to destroy the shuttles was to destroy evidence about the pirates’ identities and support.  They had called themselves privateers, which suggested that they had some backing – most likely just a lie or all in their head, since their name of Free Star Company didn’t seem to be attached to any known privateer group in the region.  Even the name ‘Tarsota’ seemed simply an unattached term, and while the pirate’s accent was odd, they had made no headway in tracing its origins.

And they had learned even less sifting the debris.  The drones were stock models modified in small workshops with hand tools, likely on the pirate vessels or at their base.  Their ammunition was from a dozen different sources, their fuel locally made and appropriated from various trading guilds or colonies.  There was no clue that stood out to give them the hint they needed to move forward.

It may not even exist, he had to admit.  Not every mystery could be solved – or at least not solved in the timespan that people liked.

Not that he was about to give up.

Another report came in; preliminary study of the pirate code that had disabled the colony’s defenses.

“Hello Captain,” Cenz said.  “I hope you do not mind if I speak to you while you review my report.”

“That will be fine,” Brooks said, moving the image of his science officer from simply a 2D box to a projection in his HUD that made the being appear as a ghostly presence with him in his study.

“As you can see, the code is a branch from a known bug first identified seven months ago in use with a group of Boku-boku thieves in Gohhi space.  While it was never a threat to our security, lower-grade security systems like those in many colonies are still susceptible to the virus if it can be uploaded into their systems.”

“That’s a big if,” Brooks said.  “Colony computers still have strong firewalls.”

“Yes.  So given the fact that the pirates had a code to bypass that firewall makes it clear; they had inside assistance.  In fact, piggy-backing on their fake IFF code was a very simple message that I believe informed their man on the ground of their arrival.”

“But whoever they were, they didn’t have all the up-to-date codes,” Brooks noted.

“Correct.  So I believe we can safely rule out Commander Gresset himself.  While the suspect is lower in rank, I do have several likely candidates – and I believe they are among the kidnapped colonists.”

“It makes sense,” Brooks agreed.  “To get their payment.  Or be disposed of and keep the pirate’s secrets.”

“That is correct.  So while this evidence strongly suggests that the pirates possess only mundane technology, there is another detail that I find . . . odd.”

Brooks frowned.  “What is that?”

“I attempted a scan for krahteons not long after the pirates made their dive, to see if I could learn anything about their engines.  The krahtonic radiation that escapes during a jump can occasionally reveal details of the zerodrive that opened the portal, you see.”

“What did you find?” Brooks asked, rubbing his chin.

“Nothing like what I expected.  My initial scans were inconclusive; I had erroneous data that made no sense.  Looking deeper into the problem, I found that there was interference, but I could not determine from where it came.  Further testing showed that the issue was not with our sensors, and I contacted Executive Commander Urle for assistance.  He took a spacewalk onto the hull and-“

“Urle’s outside the ship?” Brooks asked quickly.

“Yes, Captain,” Cenz said, and his screen looked somewhat uncomfortable.  “He is a Class-5 spacewalker, so informing you was not necessary.  He said that he . . . wished to go for a jaunt.”

“He didn’t even use a proper suit, did he?”

“Ah, no sir – he elected to use his specialized head attachments and-“

Brooks sighed, waving a hand to cut him off gently.  He’d never understood Urle’s desire to spacewalk using his absurdly specialized attachments, but it was . . . acceptable.  “All right.  Continue.”

“From the Commander’s study, we found that the issue was not the sensors, but the ship itself.  You see, the Craton is resonating.”

“Wait, what?”

“It can be most easily seen with a visualization,” Cenz said.

A graph appeared; it was very simple, simply a straight line with two spikes.  “These represent our normal krahtonic hull resonance.  The spikes are when we jumped recently.  Now, compare to our current state.”

The new graph was wild; spikes came and went, up and down, currently elevated, since they had come into the space where the pirates were operating.  At no time was it at baseline.

Brooks leaned back in his seat, his face furrowed in thought.  “Krahtonic resonance is something I’ve heard of, but it takes special conditions for that to happen, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, Captain,” Cenz said.  He seemed uncomfortable, and Brooks felt his own anxiety growing again.

“So what are we resonating with?”

“I actually cannot say.  But the resonance is strongest in this location.”  Cenz brought up a three-dimensional model of the ship, a side glowing to indicate the strongest resonance.

“It is the side that was facing the pirates when they jumped.  I believe that . . . this indicates the presence of a very strong krahteon emitter on their ship.  It is not that of an engine, at least none I have ever seen.  I do not believe that it is the result of tinkering to their drive, though I cannot rule it out.  To be honest, Captain, I feel that this is consistent with the idea that the pirates do in fact possess some sort of relic technology.  Especially in light of their unexplained ability to dive so soon after arriving in-system.”

Brooks was silent for a time.  “Have you shared this report with the other officers?”

“Yes, Captain, as per normal procedure.  Was that wrong?”

Brooks saw a ping.  It was Lt. Pirra, adding notations to the document.  He looked at the first one.

It was a link to one of the legends about the Star Hunter.

“No, you did correctly.  Thank you, Cenz.  And is Urle back from his spacewalk?”

The Coral nodded, his image fading, and Brooks checked his system to locate his Executive Officer.  It did say he was aboard.

He began a call.

“Hello, Captain,” Urle said, accepting the call after a moment.  Brooks tried to tell from his voice if it was generated or coming from his actual mouth, but he could not be sure.

“Are you inside now?” he asked.

“Yes, Captain.  I was out for a bit, but-“

“Do me a favor, next time wear a helmet,” Brooks said dryly.

“. . .  understood, Captain,” Urle replied.  “Did Y complain?”

“No, this is all me.  What would Y be complaining about, anyway?”

“Nothing, sir,” Urle said quickly.

Brooks let the silence hang a moment before continuing.  “This resonance that Cenz had you investigating – is it a danger to the ship?”

“Ah, no sir, we have no reason to believe so.  It doesn’t affect anything except zerojumps, and even then the effect is negligible – not of any concern at all.  Was there a reason you didn’t want to ask Cenz this?”

“He’s got a lot of polyps,” Brooks replied.  “And they like to talk.  I didn’t even want him thinking that direction in case rumors start.”

“Ah, I understand.”

Brooks looked to the report again, still feeling uneasy.  More comments from Pirra were popping up.  She was on top of reports, at least.  Maybe too on top of them, perhaps she needed a bigger work load.

“Ian, if this is evidence that the pirates might have relic technology . . .” Urle began.

“I still think it’s a big if, and I don’t want to act like we think this way.  I don’t want people getting nerves,” Brooks said.  “When we know more, we can tell everyone and make sure we’re actually confident in what we’re saying.”

“I understand.  But I’m thinking – why aren’t we involving Kell in this?  Relic technology is thought to be tenkionic, and . . . well, he’s got kind of a connection there, doesn’t he?”

“Officially,” Brooks replied, “we do not acknowledge that.  So officially I don’t think we can ask for help.”

Even after all that had been said at his trial, Kell admitting strange connections, the official stance did not recognize this fact.  What was there to really say on it, except to say they didn’t know?

“And unofficially, would you mind if I spoke to him?” Urle asked.

Brooks glanced at Pirra’s latest comments on the document.  They were professional, calm, but all of them alluded to or directly cited things that were almost certainly just legend.

“Just do it on the down low,” Brooks told him with a sigh.

---

< Ep 10 Part 16 | Ep 10 Part 18 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

One step closer to the real thing, Urle thought, gazing out upon the stars.

Standing on the hull of the Craton, fastened only by magnetic boots, he let out a long breath.

He did not need a full helmet, only enough to keep some pressure around the skin left on his head, and he’d put plates over his whole face to seal it in.  His optical sensors simply protruded without cover, which meant one less layer between his external sensors and the light of those distant stars.

As good as anyone would ever get, he thought, even though it meant that he still had those sensors between his brain and the light.  His ‘natural’ eyes had been replaced years ago, among the early parts he’d improved.  Someone had once asked him if he felt like he’d lost something, putting technology between his brain and the world like that.  But his birth eyes were the same thing, just an organic machine rather than a digital one.

He was on the ‘dark’ side of the ship, facing away from the planet and colony below.  With the bulk of the ship blocking the reflected planetshine, he could see even more stars.  The blackness between them was so incredibly, perfectly dark, he thought.

A small flash flared out in the distance behind him as the ship’s navigation lasers incinerated a piece of debris.

The Craton was stationed outside of the path of the lion’s share of debris from the destroyed shuttles, but some could still be in orbit this far out.

“Y,” he asked.  “How many impacts on the frontal cone have there been while I’ve been out here?”

The drone hovering nearby rotated to face him, though it was unnecessary, as it, too, had all-angle vision.

“Twelve, Executive Commander.  But I imagine you knew this was an elevated risk period for your . . . ‘jaunt’, I believe you called it?”

“Yeah,” Urle said.  “I knew, but I wasn’t very concerned.  We’re in the cone’s shadow, the odds of being hit-“

“Are startlingly higher than normal,” Y admitted.  “But still infinitesimal given the length of your planned walk.  Which, incidentally, is nearly over!  Might I recommend you head back to the airlock?”

“Not yet,” Urle said.  “I still haven’t found the source of the interference Cenz has me after.”

Y said nothing, but Urle knew the good doctor was annoyed.  He’d been against the space walk, but it was just panicking.  Urle had run the calcs himself, ten times, and this was safe enough.  They’d tracked the shuttle debris.  It wasn’t like they wanted any of it hitting the ship, and the defense lasers were giving him overwatch.

But eyes-on out here would be better than most drones.  He had better sensors than the small ones they could maneuver easily out here, and he didn’t use up much reaction mass with his magboots.

His spine stiffened automatically as he took a step forward, his sensors still pinging the surface with a low krahteon beam.  Measuring the returning bounce, he compared it against the norm, and found . . .

Well, the ship was singing.

He had no idea why the ship was resonating, it was a rare phenomenon, but that was the reason he was out here.

Drones were handling the riskier planetary side, and their results, while less precise than his own, were falling into predictable ranges, though . . . maybe on the low side.

It was only by the tiniest margin, and he felt annoyed again at the fact that they did not all have tools of his caliber.

He knelt down, pausing his breathing for a moment.  While his biological cells still needed air, many people didn’t actually know that, given that he didn’t need to wear a full helmet.  Parts of his head that most thought was still flesh and blood were actually just well-designed prosthetics.  He didn’t even need an air supply to his mouth; his O2 tanks connected directly to his lungs through his chest.

All of his gear was of the highest grade, he’d saved for and designed much of it himself, and they gave his brain better protection from impacts and radiation than a standard space helmet.

“Y, look at these results . . .”

“Oh, I am,” Y said.  “Your radiation exposure is already quite high.”

“Not that.  I mean the krahteon scans.”

“You are certainly getting some of those, too,” Y noted.

“. . . from the other side of the ship compared to this one.”

Y replied almost instantly.  “I admit, your sensors are far superior to the drones.  I am afraid that the margin of error in their scans makes this all something of a waste of time.  Oh well, let’s get your still-somewhat squishy and biological parts back inside the ship!”

“I think I need to head over to that side to get better readings.”

“That is a bad idea, let us head inside instead,” Y said.

“I’ll stay in the shadow of the shield plate,” Urle said.  “Just ten more minutes.”

Y said nothing, and Urle knew he was biting his tongue.  But Urle outranked him, so he could only push it so far.

His boots clumping against the hull, something he could only feel and not hear in the vacuum, he stuck to the metal sections of the ship’s surface.

Large areas of it appeared to be raw cratonic asteroid, though he knew it was largely a facsimile.  When the asteroid had been converted many years ago, the outside had been removed and ground up.  Even their hardest carbon grinders had been worn down in the process, at an alarming rate, but the small pieces of unnaturally tough rock had been mixed with a shielding plasticizer and later added back onto the hull’s surface.  Metal plates, sensors, and other bits ran through and under the mixture, which – when it had hardened – made better armor than most warship hulls.

But it was not magnetic, so his boots wouldn’t even stick to it.  For that reason, metal plates had been put over sections, sometimes just narrow metal walkways.

He continued to scan as he walked, noting that the resonance was changing . . . growing weaker, it seemed.

“We need to get more scans,” he told Y.  “I need to head aft.”

“I can see you are going to circumnavigate the ship in two orientations before you are finished,” Y noted dryly.

“Yep.  I’ll be quick, though.”

Here on the planetary side, the light of the stars was almost drowned out by the reflected planetshine .  He had to adjust his sensors to see them at all.

He did hurry towards the back, sticking to a sunken channel for safety.

“Another piece of debris has struck the frontal cone,” Y noted.

“I know,” Urle replied, keeping the annoyance out of his voice.

“Do you want to know how big it was?” Y asked, his voice upbeat.

“I already know,” Urle said.  “It was four centimeters across at its widest point.”

“Do you wish to know how deeply it burrowed into the shield or what it would do if it struck you?” Y added, his drone moving into an annoyingly close proximity.

“I can simulate that myself,” Urle replied.

“It is very grisly!” Y said.  “Oh, look, there is a hatch over there.”

It highlighted in Urle’s view, but he ignored it, instead looking to his scans.

“Y, help me correct this drone data,” he said.  “If we can use their wider data and compare it with mine, we can get a better overall view.”

Y was silent for 2.6 seconds.  “Complete.  You may be onto something interesting here, Executive Commander, as loathe as I am to admit it.  Will you head inside now?”

“Yes,” Urle said finally letting out an annoyed sigh.  “But we’ll talk to Cenz on the way and see what the hell he can make out of this.”

---

< Ep 10 Part 15 | Ep 10 Part 17 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

Water splashing on his face was Kade’s wake-up call.

He sat up, gasping again, the water in his mouth and nostrils making him feel like he was drowning.

“Wake wake,” he heard a voice say.

It was not a Greggan voice, and he blinked, wiping the water out of his eyes before looking at the speaker.

At first glance he might have mistaken the man for rad-baked leather rather than a real human.

Stick-thin, the man simultaneously looked young and old, his skin tanned a deep red, his limbs thin and gangly yet clearly possessing a wiry strength, while his face looked heavily lined from a hard life.  He did not have a single hair on his head as far as Kade could see.

“Who are you?” Kade asked, then coughed through a sore throat.  The air in here was uncomfortable to breathe and his chest hurt more than earlier.

Just like his head; it felt like the time he had tried excite in a bar with his friends, the drug making him feel like he’d been on a cloud . . . until the next day when he had felt like he’d sunk into the mud.

This was worse, he thought.  And he couldn’t really remember why he felt this way.  He’d met the pirate Captain, then . . .  What had happened after that?

“I’m askin questions, not you,” the man growled.

He was squatting just outside the crude bars that made up Kade’s cage.

After they had taken him off the bridge, they must have put him in here, alone rather than in with the other prisoners.

Turning, he saw that the others were still in their cages, many laying down – hopefully sleeping rather than dead.  Others moved, or talked to each other, their faces all portraits of misery.

“Hey, eyes on me!” the human pirate said.  “Why did Cap’n Tarsota want you on the bridge?”

Kade looked at him a moment, but then his eyes wandered again.  “He wanted to know if I was a writer,” he said slowly.

Despite the fuzziness of his mind, he was starting to recall his time on the bridge more, though what exactly happened after meeting the Captain was still unclear to him.

“Is you one?” the pirate demanded.

“Yeah,” he replied.  He didn’t see a point in lying, but he wondered now if there were less people in the other cages than before.  He was trying to count, but it was very dim in here.

“Why you looking at them?” the pirate said, banging the bars.  “You got a girl or boy in there?”

For a second Kade thought he meant a child, but from the man’s lewd smile he realized he meant something else entirely.  “. . . no,” he said.

The pirate glanced over.  “Fancy one?  You tell me what I want, I get you whoever you want.  Look away while you go at it.  Fair trade, you’ll be happy, Cap’n’ll be happy, and then I’ll be happy too.”

“I . . . I think I’m fine,” Kade said.

“Well don’t go expectin’ me to crawl in there with you!” the pirate said.

“I didn’t want- I mean, no, I’m just fine being alone.”

“Flying solo, fits you artist-types,” the pirate replied.  “What the Cap’n want with a writer?”

Kade decided not to answer.  “What do I call you?”

The man scowled, and Kade had a terrible feeling for a moment that he was about to get tortured.

But the man answered.  “I’m Surc.  Erry’one here just called me so, but I was born Jerall.  Surc’s better.  I look a Surc, dun I?”  He turned his head, giving Kade a better profile look at him.

Kade would not have thought he looked a Surc, more like a . . .

Well, all he could come up with was Scrap O’Leather.  Not his best writing, he thought.

“Yeah, you do look like a Surc.  It’s a good name,” he said instead.

He pointed.  “What are they going to do with the others?  Ransom them?”

“Hahaha, nah,” Surc said.  “Just scraps a’ meat.”

Kade’s shock showed through widened eyes and Surc laughed again.  “Not for eatin’.  Greggans don’t eat us folks.  If they could stomach us, maybe this lot would, but we don’t sit right in their bellies.”

“Then meat for what?”

Surc ignored him.  “We’re all just meat in its eyes,” he said, his eyes glazing over slightly.

A screaming began from down the hall, and Kade jerked around.  It was a very distant cage, but he could see someone pounding on the bars.

“I shouldn’t be here!  I helped you!  I let you in, let me out of here, we had a deal!” the man wailed.

“Who’s that?” Kade asked, feeling panic welling in him.

A large Greggan came down the hall, holding a metal pole.  It shoved Surc as it went past, the man flinching away, but it headed on towards the man at the end.

“That unlucky bastard was our in-man,” Surc said, his face turning from cowed to an ugly smirk.  “Thought he got hisself his weight in creds.  Just got a cage instead.  You know how it goes; cheaters cheat cheaters.  Way it goes.”

The Greggan guard reached the man and jabbed his staff in.  The man screamed, a flash suggesting that he’d just gotten a shock.

Kade found himself wondering why he’d bother doing it himself until he heard the strange grunting that he’d realized earlier was Greggan laughter.

The guard came back, and Surc cringed away again, putting up his hands as the Greggan held up his pole threateningly.

After he was gone, Surc looked back to him.  “You hungry?  Want water?”

“Not thrown in my face,” Kade said carefully.

“Nah, nah.  Was doin’ you a favor, washin’ off the blood.”

Blood?  Kade felt his heartbeat pick up faster at the word, and he touched his face, feeling wetness from the water.  When he looked at his fingers, even in the dim light, he could see they were darker.  Stained from his blood.

Why had he been bleeding?

“We friends now, yeah?” Surc continued.  “Tell me what you want, I get it for ya, you just tell me what you see up on the bridge.  You spoke to the big Cap’n himself, right?  Tarsota . . .”

The way he said the name was wistful, almost adoring, Kade thought.

“Get me something decent to eat and some clean water,” he said carefully to Surc, “and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Surc grinned broadly.  He had only two teeth left in his head, Kade saw.

“You best not be lyin’ to me.  I’ll be back, get you some real good food!”

---

< Ep 10 Part 14 | Ep 10 Part 16 >