by Kal Spriggs
That thought broke his concentration. Wrethe do not have packs, we do not form friendships, I hunt alone, he thought. The very idea that he needed the crew appalled him, the fact that he found some form of security in their presence… I sound like some kind of tame dog.
No, best to follow through with the simple option. Kill the Captain and any crew that would support him. Once they arrived at 567X43… no, Ariadne had already plotted the course, Anubus did not need her anymore. The system lay only one system away from Danar, sooner or later Anubus would find passage aboard a ship he could bribe or hijack. He could afford to wait, he could not afford weakness. For some reason he remembered Kull and the words from the dream. “I am the lone hunter,” Anubus growled, “And I don’t believe in ghosts.”
“Hey man, I’m right with you there,” Rastar’s deep voice spoke from behind him.
Anubus spun, his claws extended, ready for the attack, prepared to rend and tear. Rastar stood calmly in the hatch. He didn’t even have his weapons in hand and his relaxed pose shocked Anubus enough that he managed to rein in on his instincts. “What… why are you here?” Anubus snarled. The Ghornath had one of his more hideous shirts, one that gave Anubus and immediate headache as he tried to watch Rastar for any sign of threat without actually having to look at the shirt.
“I found your gold,” Rastar tossed the two bars from hand to hand, “Sorry it took so long. I had Eric do a shakedown of the crew and passengers while I watched for suspicious activity, as it was, I nearly didn’t catch the thief. He slipped up though, tried to ditch the bars and I spotted him.”
“You caught him?” Anubus demanded. He did not bother to hide his incredulity. The idea that he could have so underestimated the other’s capabilities… he had known that the Ghornath hidden something underneath his moronic exterior, but he must have genius level skills to maintain his buffoon act and still locate the thief. What surprised him more was the pack mentality, Eric acted to flush the game while Rastar closed the trap. That kind of move required trust, something that seemed absurd in the face of it. How had Rastar known he could trust Eric?
“Yeah, and I’m afraid I lost my temper with him when I found where he tried to hide them,” Rastar shook his head. “Crowe tried to slip them in my drawer in the cabins, right underneath my Hawaiian shirts, can you believe that?”
Anubus felt his lips draw back in a snarl, “Crowe is the thief?” The news did not surprise him, the other man’s hacking skills and his stealth made more sense. Which brought to question how Mike had learned of the man’s past and who had put Crowe up to it.
“Yeah, he was…” Rastar sighed. “It won’t happen again, I promise you that.”
“You killed him?” Anubus felt a surge of surprise, he had not thought Mike so ruthless as to exterminate one of his own tools.
“No way, man! I just beat him to a pulp,” Rastar said. “Trust me, he won’t forget the consequences of stealing and he admitted it to the others too, I made sure of that.” The big Ghornath turned blue, an emotion which Anubus thought meant regret, though he could not think of why Rastar might regret his actions. Perhaps he regrets that he gave me so much information with which to figure out his hunting pattern?
“No, but he’s terrified of me now, dude,” Rastar sighed, “And since I lost my temper, some of the others seem pretty unhappy too. But you probably know how that goes, what with the whole big alien thing. Pretty rough to be so misunderstood, right?”
Anubus could think of no response to that. Did Rastar toy with him, did he view this as some sort of game… or had he simply had luck and stumbled across Crowe’s plan? The combination of the shirt and the thought that of all things Rastar might be exactly what he seemed proved too much. Anubus sank back on his haunches and looked away.
“Yeah, man, you don’t need to say anything, I get ya,” Rastar said. He tossed the two bars to Anubus, who caught them out of the air with little of his usual grace. The world seemed too shaken up, especially with how many curves that the Ghornath had thrown him. “Well, anyway, I’ll see you at dinner, Eric’s doing Mongolian barbeque. You’ll love it, they’re race of humans that ran the open steppes, nomads who believed in peace and spreading their brotherly love. I watched in a holo where they incorporated everyone they came across into their empire, they didn’t care what race or religion, they just let everyone in, isn’t that cool?”
“I have read of these Mongolians,” Anubus growled, “Ruthless killers who butchered entire nations.” He had nearly selected Khan as his name, from his research, but had settled on Anubus after reading of the Egyptian God of Death.
“I think you got that part a little off, man,” Rastar laughed. “Don’t believe everything you read, right? It’s alright though, let’s go get some food, hey?”
Anubus gave the alien a slight nod. “I will join you in a moment.”
He waited until the scent and sound of Rastar vanished before he turned and carefully placed the two gold bars back where they belonged. He had much to think about, much to ponder. Anubus felt some urge to continue with his original plan, yet his survival instincts cautioned him against it. He was the lone hunter, yes, but he moved in the shadows of a pack. He held no loyalty to them, yet they seemed to feel some for him. That made them vulnerable and gave him greater strength. He would just have to ensure he never let his guard down.
Yet as he peered at the gold stack, he felt dissatisfaction boil up at the sight of the perfect stack. He had played into someone’s plan. He had not looked deeply enough into the situation to see the goals behind the thief, and he had underestimated Mike, Crowe, and certainly Rastar.
At least, I hope I underestimated him, Anubus thought darkly, otherwise I know that the universe is a hunter with a perverse sense of humor that merely toys with me.
* * *
Anubus sat secure in the darkest corner of the lounge. The loud sounds of the crew around him no longer seemed like a herd of clueless prey. Instead, he saw the deeper meanings behind the loud noises and the brash scents. They were a pack, one that somehow shared trust, and that, he realized, made them far more dangerous than the individuals he had first appraised them as.
Anubus began his new threat assessment, and this time he began to match individuals into groups, packs that would fight together, not out of mere opportunity, but out of…friendship.
I almost feel sick at that thought , Anubus realized. Yet he had to consider it, if only to fully appreciate the threats he faced for when they inevitably turned on him, just as everyone did… eventually. However deluded their trust and friendships and however they might turn on one another later, for now, they believed themselves a true pack and Anubus would have to view them in that fashion.
Even if it caused a new emotion to burn inside him, one he refused to admit as anything other than ridiculous. I will not envy them their self-delusion, Anubus thought.
Yet some part of him wondered if friendship, however fragile, might be possible for a Wrethe, or if like everything else about him, his animosity came from his very genetics.
Systems Failure
The Renegades (Short Story)
“I’m bringing us thirty degrees down, prepare to fire on my mark,” Mike said. He matched action to words as he adjusted the controls at the pilot station. On his sensor repeater he saw the enemy ship exposed to the fire of the five turrets. “Mark!”
A moment later, the five turrets opened up. The light particle pulse guns sent a wave of energy at the enemy ship. The lower angle allowed the ship to fire all five of the turrets at the same target and dropped them below the middle band of the enemy ship’s defense screen. If their main gun were operational, Mike would have swung the bow upwards and fired that instead
“Multiple hits,” Simon said. The somewhat dour former cop seemed bound to keep his voice steady, despite the hour of maneuvers that had required the well-positioned shot. “I’m reading power levels dropping on their defense screen and their reactor signature dropped.” The enem
y corvette looked to be a Barracuda class, from its maneuvers and reactor signature. It mounted a pair of external missile racks and two light laser turrets. Mike’s earlier maneuvers had already coaxed the missile launch, which had allowed Eric to pick them off at long range. The two laser turrets were heavier than their own, but also fired slower and took longer to recharge.
Mike nodded, even as he spun their ship around to put the thicker waist band of their defense screen in between their ship and any return fire. The charged plasma would deflect energy weapons and projectiles while the magnetic field shielded them from radiation. “Any transmission from the enemy ship?” Mike asked.
“Nope,” Crowe said. The communications officer had a bored look on his face. “I’ll tell you if they start talking.”
Mike grimaced, but let Crowe’s insolence slide, for the moment, “Navigation, good work with the maneuvers, get us a course that uses our acceleration, I want to get in behind them and-”
“Missile launch!” Simon’s level tone disappeared. “I have sixteen missiles on the way. Intercept time thirty seconds!”
“What!?” Mike asked. “They already volleyed their external racks!”
“Looks like they kept something in reserve,” Eric said. “Switching fire, Simon, get me a target solution, I’m firing blind!”
Mike shifted the ship into an evasive maneuver and tried to gain some distance even as he watched Eric shift fire. It didn’t look good. The missiles were fast, not Nova Roma quality, but certainly military grade from the Colonial Republic. They were fast and agile, and at such close range, the missiles had every advantage.
Eric was good, Mike had to acknowledge. Even with the unfamiliar Ghornath systems and almost no warning he managed to pick off six of the sixteen missiles before they reached attack range. That meant ten of them got through. They swept over the corvette in a wave of destruction, each with a kiloton yield of plasma. Most detonated almost in contact with the hull. The bridge shuddered and shook as missile after missile pounded into them.
Crowe let out a shout of surprise as one of the hits threw him out of his couch. That’ll teach the bastard to strap down, Mike thought with sullen satisfaction. One missile detonated directly outside the forward view-port and dazzling light filled the bridge. When then wave of plasma cleared, the displays were dark and only the emergency lighting lit the room.
Mike blinked at the dim lighting, still dazed from the forward screen. He gave a sigh, “Terminate simulation.”
“You sure?” Pixel’s voice came over the intercom. “I could have my assistants do some simulated damage repairs on the actual damage we have.”
“Yes, I’m sure.” Mike said. A moment later the view screen cleared and showed the gray emptiness of shadow space once more. “Everyone assemble up here and we’ll do an after action review.”
Crowe stood from the deck, “That was a little too fancy with the simulated gravity, Pixel.”
“You are welcome, my friend,” Rastar said. “I’m the one that found the simulation files in the officer quarters. Good thing the Ghornath crew had backups. I think it added much realism to the simulation.”
“Yeah,” Crowe said sourly. “Great.”
“I thought we were sticking to standard ship classes?” Mike grunted.
“We did,” Rastar said. “Simon incorrectly identified it as a Barracuda class corvette. However, Pixel and I selected a Hammerhead class corvette for the simulation, based off of its common use as a privateer or raider. A Hammerhead corvette has four missile racks versus two.”
Mike grimaced. The big alien had done exactly as he’d asked… and it was Mike’s fault that he accepted Simon’s identification without confirmation. “Right.” Mike heard Simon swear. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Simon pull up the sensor logs again. “Hey, no worries, brother, that’s my fault as much as yours.”
“Still, I should have caught it,” Simon said. “I wish we had more complete sensor logs for identification.”
“I’d kill for a set of Jaynes Ships,” Mike said. Even that kind of off the shelf software would be better than the kludge of salvaged Ghornath and Chxor data. He glanced over at Crowe, “Any luck recovering more of the ship’s logs or data?” The stale smell of his own sweat reminded him that it had been a long day, even before the other man spoke.
Crowe frowned, “I’d have more time to work on it… except we’ve been drilling for the past twelve hours. And we’ve died… seventeen times.”
“Eighteen,” Simon said. “Don’t forget the one where we struck that derelict ship in the first fifteen seconds of the simulation.”
“Right… how could I forget that one?” Crowe said, his voice filled with mock puzzlement. “After all, it was such a combination of excellent piloting, marvelous navigation, and breathtaking sensor readings.” The tall man looked down at Mike, “So… are we done here?”
“We’re done,” Mike said. “Rastar has some crew drills he wants to do for fire, boarding, and abandon ship, but we’ll implement those later.” He had grown very tired of Crowe’s attitude. The man seemed to have two settings: sullen and sarcastic.
“Oh, great,” Crowe said.
“Listen, you’ll do the drills and you’ll work hard at them,” Mike snapped.
“Or what?” Eric grimaced. Mike looked up with surprise and saw a mixture of frustration and irritation on the other man’s face. “Look, Mike, we’ve been at this for twelve hours. We’re all exhausted…”
“And in a real emergency, something like we already had, you’ll be tired then too,” Mike snapped. “And we’ll need to do our jobs regardless.”
“Whatever,” Crowe snorted. “I’m done here.”
“Don’t walk away from me, Crowe.” Mike said. He could feel his pulse pound at his temples.
Ariadne stood and stepped between them. “Look, why don’t we all just calm down…”
“I don’t have time to listen to Mike and her,” Eric snapped. “I’m out too.”
Mike bit back a snarl and turned back to his console. He wanted to scream and yell, but he knew that, as the Captain, such displays would be… counterproductive at best. He felt overwhelmed and exhausted. Part of him wanted nothing more than to sleep. The rest of him was terrified of what he would find in his dreams.
He glanced around at the others, who remained on the bridge, their faces tight with tension. “Take a break. We’ll discuss this tomorrow.”
He sat down as they shuffled out. His eyes went to the gray nothingness of Shadow Space. Part of the tension came from their circumstances, he knew. They’d been forced together: companions of necessity. How can I expect them to work together when even I don’t want to anymore, he wondered.
He had heard of crews going mad, on long jumps through Shadow Space, driven insane by the emptiness and isolation. Even the best crews sometimes let it get to them and became surly and depressed. Mike didn’t want to see what Anubus would be like if he became even more surly.
He sighed, and for just a moment, he let his eyes go closed.
* * *
”Mike,” Kran said, her voice soft. “They’ve betrayed you. Just like your other companions have before. You can’t trust them, you can’t trust anyone.” She spoke softly, her ugly Chxor face calm and emotionless. And then she stepped forward and kissed him. Her lips were warm and rubbery, and felt as sensual as kissing a water balloon.
She stepped back. “They’re coming to kill you. You can trust me. We have to stop them.”
Mike turned to face the door as his former companions attacked. Only this time, they didn’t win. Kran caught Anubus as he came through the door, held him up and ripped his arms out of the sockets with her mental abilities. Ariadne tried to stop her, but Mike fired and struck her in the chest. She fell to the deck in a spreading pool of her own blood. Eric lined his sights up on Mike, but Kran caught him with her psychic powers and wrenched his head around backwards.
Rastar gave a shout of anguish as all four of his limbs twist
ed around to aim his guns at his own head. The four guns fired at once and his headless corpse toppled to the deck.
“Now, it’s just you and me, Mike… just you and me,” Krann’s voice said from inside of Mike’s mind…
* * *
Mike woke with a shrill yell. He realized he’d nodded off, in his seat on the bridge. He felt sweat bead his brow and he wiped it away even as he fought to control his ragged breathing. A glance over showed that Simon was still present, though the other man at least pretended to be too engrossed in manning his watch to notice Mike’s nightmares.
Again with the nightmares, he thought. He hadn’t been able to sleep since the Sao Martino and Krann the Chxor… or whatever had worn the outside of Krann the Chxor. Every time he closed his eyes he heard her voice and he went through another iteration of the events on the bridge. In some, his companions took him alive and tortured him. In others, he killed or helped to kill them. Always there was Krann’s voice, never ceasing.
He’d told Ariadne, and she’d tried to help. She said she thought the mental effects would ease, over time. That gave him little comfort. He couldn’t sleep, he felt exhausted. Mike wanted it to end… and he wanted to do his job, not to be plagued by nightmares.
He stood up from the chair and groaned. His body ached and his brain felt sluggish. A glance at the chrono showed it was early morning. Most would be asleep. He spoke loud enough for Simon to hear, “I’ll be down at the lounge.”
Mike took the elevator down. He paused outside the door and took a calming breath before he walked through. As always, the large aquarium lurked to the side, the water and the Arcavian Fighting Eel that lurked inside it made the hair on the back of Mike’s neck rise. He headed for the far side of the room and stood at the bar. Eric tended to leave food out for those who had the night shift, and Mike slowly made himself a sandwich and tried to think.