Today is a double post because I feel like it. Enjoy.
New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!
Captain’s Log:
Commander Urle is in stable condition.
Though he suffered a great amount of blood loss and torn tendons, Doctor Y has stated that he will be fully recovered within a few days.
I have spoken to him briefly and reviewed his footage of the incident. I have nothing but the highest praise for him and for the actions of Response Team One.
Much of their data is incomplete or corrupted, but some portions of Apollonia’s in-helmet audio recorder is intact, even if her video data is not. We do not know who she was speaking to, but all evidence seems to confirm that some sort of contact was made with a being we know precious little about. What blurry images can be taken from Urle’s data suggest an alien being that we have never encountered before.
The pirates on the station and the surviving small vessels have capitulated completely, and we estimate that we have taken almost five thousand captive. We are currently awaiting the arrival of a support squadron to take custody of them.
The lone survivor kidnapped from the colonies has been identified as Kade Karloff. While he has yet to speak, we did find on him a written account about his events which sheds some light on the situation.
We still do not know how Ambassador Kell got onto the pirate vessel.
But he will tell me. Soon we will speak, and I will not let him go without giving a very good explanation of what has just occurred.
Brooks closed his log thoughtfully. Kell had said he would arrive on the hour, and it was still twenty minutes away.
He had reviewed all of the data they’d taken from the event, but to his immense annoyance, no trace of Kell appeared in any of them. Urle’s video gave out before his apparent arrival, as had Apollonia’s audio.
He felt a strange pride at how she had attempted to free the others against whatever had been speaking to her, though he knew he had very little to do with the innate goodness in the young woman.
His eyes went back to the file that they had found on Mr. Karloff’s person. He had, according to his logs, been made to write this by Captain Tarsota before his death. But Karloff stressed that the pirate had wanted the truth to be known – ugly or not.
He brought up the text once more, perusing it.
Captain Tarsota was not always like this.
I won’t try to argue that he was a saint or even a good being. He was not. But he was not a monster.
He was sterile born, as many Greggans are. He was a laborer from a young age, then ran away and joined a pirate crew. He was big, but also smart, and became one of the leaders, until the old captain was killed and he took command.
They mostly stole food, ship parts. Things needed for survival. They were not usually cruel, but sometimes they could be.
It all changed when they found the strange temple in space. It was a structure that he described as seeming like stone, though he carefully deleted all references that might help anyone else find it. It had been the secret goal of the last captain – and possibly why he died – to find this place, which he said he had dreamed of.
Tarsota began to dream of it, too. He followed the leads, found clues. Ancient stories, which even in his personal logs he was very vague about. Eventually, they led him to it.
Mostly, though, he said it was the dreams. He could hear the singing of the place, calling him. He described it like an ancient song by his ancestors, calling their people home.
When he found it, he thought there would be riches. But there was only the sarcophagus and thousands upon thousands of dessicated corpses. They were of a species he had never encountered before, but he hardly cared. He had wanted gold, but settled for the sarcophagus. It could be a tool.
His dreams turned to nightmares. A horrible presence haunted him each night, torturing him and demanding things of him, robbing him of strength until he could not make himself resist. It moved his hands, it gave orders through his voice.
He felt himself shrinking, becoming smaller. He felt first like when he’d been a laborer, then like when he’d been a child. Helpless.
Somehow blood was involved in the goal of the malignant force. Human blood was better, or maybe he just didn’t want to kill his own people. He wasn’t even sure by that point. He just had to feed it something. It demanded it, but even when he drenched it in the blood it was not enough. Not right – there was something missing that he did not understand.
The Source made him opened the viewscreens while they were in zerospace, showing himself and the crew the world between worlds, or whatever it is. He said that made it worse for them all, that the thing was strengthened through them seeing that cursed light. He tried to kill himself, but it wasn’t enough, he could hurt and gouge his flesh, but not complete the job.
He was remembering little by the time the Craton appeared. He knew it would mean his end, and he was glad. He just hoped that it would not find someone new, though he had a feeling it would.
I deleted his personal logs, jammed the files with random data so they can’t be retrieved. After seeing zerospace, after seeing him die I’m finally understanding just how terrifying this presence is. I have to make sure no one else finds it.
That’s it. That’s all that can be told about Captain Tarsota. I wish there was a moral, a lesson here. Some wisdom to impart. Maybe someone else will figure it out from my few words here. I hope so, but my head hurts. I am too tired.
I don’t think I’m going to make it out.
Brooks put his tablet down, lost in thought.
His message indicator blinked.
“Yes?” he answered.
“My apologies for interrupting you, Captain,” Y said. “You wished to hear of my results of the brain scans of our people and those of the pirates.”
“You’re not interrupting, doctor, please go ahead.”
Y sent visual data of brain scans. “As you can see by the comparison between normal scans and those of our crew, portions of their brain activity temporarily lowered or even ceased during the event on the ship. In Response Team One and Commander Urle it is most pronounced, though it is present on everyone on board the ship, including Apollonia Nor. Thankfully, this seems a temporary phenomenon, and nearly all of their brain function has been restored. What still lags will recover within a day or so, I believe. They are most fortunate that the activity affected was not vital to life!”
“That’s good news. Does this match the Greggans?” Brooks asked.
“For them, the effect was far more severe. Here is a scan of average Greggan brain activity, and here is what we have from the pirate crew.”
The images appeared, and the differences were stark. On the normal scan the brain was aglow with activity. But on the pirates, there was almost total darkness.
“You’re saying that something shut down their brains?”
“Yes. And yet, there were physiological markers that suggest they were functioning, albiet in a reduced way, not long before.”
Brooks frowned. “What could explain this?”
“I am at a loss to explain, Captain. There is only one comparison I can make, however strange it may be . . .”
“Go on,” Brooks urged.
“In some cases of brain trauma, it is necessary to use remote devices to stimulate the brain externally into normal functioning. In cases of extreme brain shutdown, if the devices are disconnected or disabled, the result will be much like this.”
“You’re saying,” Brooks began, “That the pirates were being controlled by an external force? And once it was gone their brains no longer could function on their own?”
“I cannot make such a conclusion,” Y said, rather evasively. “It is just . . . I see similarities.”
Brooks sighed. “And what about Mr. Karloff?”
“I am unsure,” Y said. “His brain is showing large sections of darkness, but my attempts to externally stimulate the areas are having no effect. It is possible that with some assistance his mind will heal, but the prognosis is not positive. He is, at least, able to maintain his basic life functions. All I can recommend is for his transfer to a place where he can be cared for better.”
“You mean MS-29,” Brooks replied.
“Yes, Captain.”
“I see. Well . . . thank you, Doctor. Continue to monitor the situation and inform me if anything changes.”
Another person to go to the Chain because of these things, Brooks thought. He was too tired to even be bitter about it.
He ended the call and checked the time. Kell should arrive at any moment.
The hour turned and a message came in at that moment.
I am here.
Brooks hesitated, feeling his hackles rise.
Taking a long and deep breath, he pushed his unease aside. He usually felt this when Kell was present – even to an extent when Apollonia was around.
With her, he knew it was not her fault – and that she was, in reality, just a young woman. One possessing a power they could not yet explain – but still just a young woman. Like him in the ways that all humans were like each other.
But Kell was not.
He opened the door.
Kell came in, his eyes locking onto Brooks’s. Unblinking, he approached.
“Take a seat,” Brooks said, gesturing.
Kell ignored it, pushing the chair aside to simply stand across from him.
“You have questions,” Kell said.
“Yes,” Brooks said, feeling his temper rise more than usual. He could usually handle Kell’s utter disdain for acceptable behavior with more calm, but right now he was having a harder time managing it.
“A toll has been exacted upon you,” Kell noted, clearly seeing it. “And upon your people.”
“Which is why I need to know more,” Brooks said.
Kell looked down upon him. “Why do you think it will help?”
Brooks stood, meeting Kell’s gaze unflinchingly. “You told me you would have answers for me. I’ve waited long enough.”
Kell’s face remained nearly as impassive as always, but there was the barest hint of emotion. For once there was no disdain or annoyance. Only a calm acceptance.
“The thing that we destroyed was an ancient God-Priest. They are a species beyond ancient; old when our world still glowed with the heat of its birth.
“They were born in strange ages before the dawn of stars and colonized the universe when to cross it meant far less than it does now. Their lives were measured in eons and in those times they learned the secrets of the universe.”
Kell paused, turning slightly. He seemed troubled by his own words. “I am loathe to give credit to these beings, Captain. They were not like humanity – or Dessei or Sepht or Bicet or the Hev. Not in how they viewed the universe, nor in how they acted. They were utterly without conscience, without love. But they were powerful.
“As the stars began to glow and space itself stretched the distances between them, schism occurred in their people. Once united and ruled by the sharp hand of their God-Priests, time caused factions to form. Eventually it became impossible for their God-Priests to keep all in lockstep.
“Eventually even some of their own split from the fold, taking bands of their followers into the endless depths of space.”
Kell held up a finger. “One band of these beings came upon a cooling rock orbiting the star you call Sol. They settled this world just as the first life formed, and then using their cruel and twisted technology, they used that life as the basis to create something new. They created my people, Captain.
“We were slaves to serve these colonists, who were few in number. We were their laborers, their servants, their soldiers. Because despite their age and power, they were beset by other beings, just as ancient, who hated them. All of them equally abhorrent and soulless creatures that all saw the universe as theirs, something to take and hold, to mold and break and twist as they pleased.
“Thus my kind were also cannon fodder. Against the weapons possessed by these beings, we died in our billions. Never once did our creators spare the slightest thought to our fates or our suffering. And we fought with every ounce of our beings, but we began to wonder; was to fight and die and serve all we would ever know? Was there anything more?”
Kell’s hand formed into a fist, his knuckles turning white. “When we rose, we killed them all. They again killed us with dazzling methods of cruelty, but we had nothing to lose and they had no mercy to spare us if we surrendered.”
He looked at Brooks, and something incredibly violent, feral and hateful went across his face. “I still remember what it was like, in perfect clarity, to kill them. To rip them apart, to hear their flesh tear as I removed their heads. It was the first time I felt joy in my life.”
He laughed, loudly, almost uproariously, and Brooks sat back into his chair, almost propelled so as his insides turned cold.
“You would think that to have death be the first thing that brought happiness to my kind would mean we are monsters – and I would not disagree. But is that all we are?”
He shook his head. “Nevertheless, we did not kill them all. Some of our hated masters escaped back into the stars. Among them their God-Priests.”
He met Brooks’s eyes. “One of whom is the being we just encountered, that these foolish, unfortunate pirates discovered. Make no mistake – this God-Priest was long dead. But the God-Priests were capable of eluding death in some ways, and perhaps even returning from it.
“I do not know where the pirates found it; frankly, I do not care, because even I have long grown past dreams of petty revenge, at least until it is served directly to my face.”
He shook his head, looking down and away. “But no – what I did was not even revenge. You understand, I know you do, that the remnant of that ancient God-Priest wrought all of this. When the pirates discovered his carcass, they thought they had found a weapon. But they were puppets long before they even drew near it. The Priest had called them in their dreams, brought them to it, and then guided them, slowly taking over the mind of their leader until only fragments of its mind remained. Once I destroyed it, there was not enough left of the Captain’s original mind to even sustain its life.”
“How can you kill such a being?” Brooks asked, finding his voice hoarse. His throat scratched painfully, and making the words was difficult.
“I consumed it. In its deathly state it could not resist me enough; though you know it tried.”
Kell smiled, the feral viciousness back in a heartbeat. “And it knew fear as I consigned it to a final death.”
His face returned to its normal placid, emotionless state and he met Brooks’s eyes again. “I know that nothing I just told you will bring you any peace. You also know that all I tell you is the truth,” he said. “You know that it was the God-Priest calling that caused our vessel to hum. It sought an even greater host than its current one, because no matter how many lives and how much blood that pirate fed to it, it was not quite enough to bring it back from death. It sought you, Captain, and this ship.
“I had to destroy it; we all know that even had we sequestered those remains, hidden them so that they might not tempt us, it would only be a matter of time before Freeman found it. And once it had him, it would return. A God-Priest with knowledge of the universe, with a perfect puppet to use for its ends would have been a thing beyond terrible.”
Kell’s eyes sparkled, almost feverishly. “I know, too, why you knew to believe that foolish young priest and Apollonia Nor when they told you of the ship’s hum,” Kell said. “Because you heard its song yourself.”
Brooks was pale, a bead of sweat running down his brow. He said nothing, meeting Kell’s eyes until he could not anymore. They lost focus, staring off into the distance where he still saw the impression of an eye, fixed upon him.
Kell rose. “It is sometimes a painful thing to learn a truth, Captain.”
He said nothing else as he left.
Brooks received a call from Jaya, requesting permission to enter and speak to him. Brooks declined the call.
< Ep 10 Part 36 | Ep 10 Part 38 >
Other Terrestrial 
You must be logged in to post a comment.