GalaxSec: A Sci-Fi LitRPG (Skeleton in Space Book 2)

by Andries Louws

  She continues smiling at the man. She has her replies ready, entire conversations planned in advance, and is just about to pick out the best one when a message flashes into view. Projected right into her optical centre is an order she must follow. In bright blazing letters that look extremely out of place, she is told to end it all. She quickly remembers that everything around her is fake, and that she is just living a carefully crafted lie to help her keep sane.

  The irritation she feels at the interruption is truly just level at best. Her current self is panicking at the knowledge of what she must do, so Fienak gently shepherds that personality to the recesses of her mind.

  It’s always a bother to change actors on such short notice, but she patiently manages her own mind. The persona she has been cultivating over the past decades of simulated reality is locked away, and her mind is occupied by someone with a completely different temperament.

  Observing the world around her with new eyes, she takes one last look outside, and sees nothing but a nice view. She does find it a bit fake now, as the pink sky is obviously dyed. Pressing a certain well-hidden button on her communicator, the last thing Fienak senses before she wakes is the planet beneath her feet exploding.

  Her vision remains black for a bit as she feels her senses disconnect from the simulation. Then more lines of text pop into her vision, and she sees that her mission has failed. She has not succeeded in her primary goal of destabilizing the entire empire. She did manage to blow up the sector capital planet, which is represented in a rather decent end score. Instead of thinking about how she could have gone about accomplishing her task in other ways – seducing the foremost corporate CEO was a pretty good strategy, after all – she just lies here, trying to enjoy the silence.

  The pod busts open with a high pitched whine. A hard filtered voice immediately starts to yell at her. “Get out, freak. Bay fifty-four in two minutes.”

  Fienak is still putting the last vestiges of memory, emotion, and instincts of the life she just went through into a corner of her mind when a shock slams into her side. The burst of pain flaring up scatters a few memories into the void, moments she will most likely never bother recovering. Looking at the masked worker with impassive eyes, Fienak assumes her true self. She ignores the still crackling cattle prod in the man’s hands as she clambers out of the pod.

  Her head empty of thought, she just observes the way the humanoid keeps staring at her. The slightly moving mask indicates a likely chance that it’s a male beneath the bodysuit and that he is checking her out. The way he called her freak had some defensive undertones. Slowly standing up, she grabs the small package that awaits her, pulling a grey cylinder from its fastenings. Pressing the button on top of the can causes a cloud of black to envelop her body. The familiar pressure of a standard issue Spektar MainLine SprayWeave armored suit-in-a-can hugs her naked form within seconds.

  She takes note of the slight disappointment in the set of the orderly’s shoulders, confirming her earlier observation. Fienak then does absolutely nothing with this information. She just walks out of the sterile virtual pod room, following the signs towards the hangars. Her mind stays blank the entire way, observations cultivated by many lifetimes of specially crafted scenario’s just sliding through her thoughts, not gaining any traction on her tranquil spirit. The personality she was forced to craft most recently says nothing, and is still just silently panicking at the fact that her entire life was just a simulation. She does allow her subconscious mind to go through those new memories, slowly processing the decades of life experience. She’s been in training simulations meant to further her scheming, politicking, and backstabbing skills before, but this latest one was kind of special. She remembers several simulated lifetimes in which she was dropped into metropolis planets without a single coin. She has lifetimes of experience in ruling entire interstellar trade federations through hostile takeover. The small town business and politics she experienced in this latest training session were new, though. She uses most of her conscious attention with figuring out her current situation, while allowing the new packet of experience, memories and skills to settle into her mind.

  By the time she reaches the hangar area, she has a pretty good idea of what is going on. Just keeping her eyes and ears open is enough for her to get a pretty good idea of what’s probably happening. Then she walks into hangar bay fifty-four, and she knows that there is something seriously wrong with this entire situation. The fact that the only vessel inside the massive hangar bay is a small warp-capable troop transport helps her reach this conclusion even quicker. She also notes the long distance modules plastered all over its exterior, as well as various storage modules. The storage elements have no markings indicating whether they are rocket pods, drone bays, or even party fireworks, so Fienak just files the number and capacity of the pods in her memory. She also sees the tell-tale large hatches that contain recon vehicles. The ship isn’t that large, but from what she can see, it should be able to house a dozen hoverbikes or similar transportation platforms.

  The small gravitational shifts and tremors she felt through her boots while walking through the pre-fabbed hallways told her that she is currently inside a space station in the middle of nowhere - either a rotating ring or a large base spinning around a counterweight. The amount of crew walking through the clean metal corridors tells her that some form of elevated alarm level is currently in effect. And there is, of course, the training mission she was in. Just the fact that it was cut a few hundred years short instead of letting it play out means that this is a matter where every minute counts.

  “Eflec Specialist Fienak, reporting in,” she snaps out, her voice muffled through the breathing section of her suit. She keeps standing on the ramp of the vessel until one of the already sitting crew motions her towards one of the frontmost seats. Several of her carefully partitioned personalities start making outraged comments, but she just lets them slide past her focus.

  Sitting down, she feels her seat adhere to the thin sheet of malleable material covering her body. A few seconds later, she is rather comfortable and completely unable to move. Then she sits there quietly, doing and thinking absolutely nothing.

  Slowly, she lets her senses tell more of the story unfolding around her. The crew transport is a small corvette, the streamlined hull, relatively small thrusters, and largely spherical shape more than telling of its functionality. The fact it’s designed according to aerodynamics principles is a dead giveaway that it’s a type of sublittoral craft, capable of entering and manoeuvring inside atmospheres. Only the largest of capital class ships can ignore this rule without losing massive amounts of efficiency inside pressurized environments due to aerial drag. The small turreted thrusters are more meant for manoeuvring and popping out of atmospheres. This means that the warp drive must do all of the in-system heavy lifting, and thus it will need to be of a rather high grade in order to achieve that level of precision.

  “No, kid. Don’t bother talking to that one. She’s pressure cooked.”

  The softly murmured conversation between two of her team members barely registers on her consciousness. The thing that is currently worrying her the most is that she did not see any markings on the side of the ship - not a single registration mark, only some inlaid brand logos.

  The other sapients around her also have soft conversations, nearly everyone discussing the unknown mission that they are being sent on, and the ridiculously short timeframe in which they had to report to the vessel. Her mind can’t help but focus in on the only conversation that isn’t purely made up of military and merc jargon.

  “Are you looking at the same woman? Surely a little bit of crazy is allowed when she looks like that?”

  This means that this mission is most likely a jump into a completely unknown situation. This also explains why the small team that is slowly assembling inside the ship is made up of elite mercs, but not the creme de la creme. Fienak suddenly understands why she, an Eflec spec fresh out of the pressure cooker, is inc
luded in the mission. The brass wants to know what is going on pretty badly, but not badly enough to risk their most valuable assets on a total gamble.

  “She’s cooked, son. Don’t bother her, don’t talk to her, just listen and obey when those Eflec psychos start spouting orders. That’s the only way to survive an op that needs one of those.”

  Fienak’s neat collection of fully lived lives then moves over to analyse the crew that is coming together. The two mercs talking about her were already seated when she came in. The older one is clad in a bulky piece of kit. Barrels, plasma rails, rocket pods, sword-handles, all kinds of weapons adorn whatever place isn’t covered in thick plates of armor. The younger one has all the tell-tale signs of someone fresh out of the Ancheevi boot camps. Probably a fresh recruit that got top marks, or something banal like that. One of her own lifetimes spent as a soldier informs her that he must be brand spanking new to the job because he is still carrying the entire set of basic gear. Any vet worth his salt knows better than to haul all that junk around all the time.

  “Right… I will—”

  “Listen up! I’m team lead Achnuu. We’re going in dark. I’ve sent you the mission briefing. Take two to read it.”

  A tall silhouette with a faintly glowing outline is standing on the ramp, their commanding presence forcing everyone’s attention towards them. The faint trails of smoke coming from the beings head distract Fienak for a split second before she continues listening in silence.

  The silence that follows the short speech is interrupted by a small prompt in her helmet’s display. Opening the text file she was just sent, she finds a standard issue mission form. Every single field is blacked out, from the date to the mission description. Looking at the near solid sheet of blocked out information, she sees two legible fields, the destination - the Evengi rim system - and the team assigned to the mission - which includes her own name and title.

  “So we will be going into Evengi dark. It was a depleted shithole before the Histaff took hold, and that was over fifty years ago, so full suppression once in-system.”

  Then the glowing figure sits down on the command chair next to the entrance ramp, which immediately starts closing.

  “Sir, what are we supposed to do?”

  Team lead Achnuu ignores the question, not even turning his head towards the bulky armored form that speaks up.

  Fienak stops herself from sighing. Their assigned team lead is obviously a by-the-numbers kind of guy. She doesn’t know what species the smoking person is, but she realizes that it has followed every single rule in the Ancheevi standard spec-n-merc manual so far. The big guy will need to follow the information request formula before their leader will respond. Something the big guy seems to realize.

  “Warp me… Sergeant third class Kee, requesting additional clarification about current mission.”

  “Big shot is down. Possible lost-slice situation,” is their leader’s reply.

  For once, Fienak does not understand the reactions that follow. The reason why everyone present went completely silent upon hearing that answer is lost on her, and she suspects that she will not have much luck in getting her current question answered.

  People stuffed inside reality simulations in order to be quickly trained are not looked favorably on by people that are trained the normal way, after all. Even as an orphan in the slums she had known this. She had also known that the chance of going through total personality dissociation is a near certainty when pressure cooked like that. It’s only through her self-made system of compartmentalizing the various training lifetimes she had been put through that she isn’t licking the walls while gibbering nonsense right this moment. This also means that certain terms such as this ‘lost-slice situation’ are totally lost on her. None of her personalities knows about this term, so neither does she.

  “Private first class Gildaa. Requesting base outline of upcoming mission, sir!”

  “Haknu and Fienak will control the pilots. Standard warp-madness procedure. Team will split into Alpha and Beta teams, standard planetary mapping tour. Indirect link comms only, no direct transmission of any kind. Standard high-sec procedures.”

  Half of Fienak’s minds are shouting now, cursing up a storm at the idiotic manner in which Achnuu is playing it safe. This operation smells of some big-shot fucking up massively or going dark, so now they need to send in the grunts to scout. Following protocol in a situation that protocol is not made for is utter stupidity. She does understand that this is the only viable way in which Achnuu can keep his head, job, and position, though. Being handed a plate of shit with strict orders that there must be no shit, and shit cannot be disposed of is a rather tricky situation, after all.

  “Sergeant third class Kee. I would like to state, for the record, that that is complete warp-cracked idiocy, sir.”

  Fienak allows herself to smirk behind her mask for half a second.

  “Statement noted,” is the dry reply. His smoking helmet scans across the Corvette’s interior, taking in the entire team of the seated figures. Not even a quarter of the ship is filled, more proof that this was a rather slap-dash decision coming in from higher up the chain. “Prepare for liftoff.”

  All around her, Fienak sees her fellow mercenaries strap in, sit down, stow their gear and prepare for the trip. A sudden thump wakes her from her silent observation, and looking at the source of the noise, she sees a rather odd looking fellow sitting in the seat next to her.

  A distinctly avian beak is encased in what seems to be a complex clump of shining metal wires, shards of flickering gauze and a weave so fine, it looks like smoke. The being is a species that Fienak has never seen before, which in and off itself is extremely worrying. She has seen thousands of species in the simulations, and to come face-to-face with one she has never even encountered the moment she is out in the real world again is disconcerting, to say the least.

  Not sure how to handle the oddly staring being, she tries to distract herself by trying to read the small display that team lead Achnuu is tapping away on. She recognises the familiar user interface of the Ancheevi Intelligence Department’s information interface with ease. Slightly calmed by the fact that at least that part of her virtual training is similar to the real world, she keeps an eye on the small display while sinking back into her seat.

  The shocks and groans echoing through the compartment tell her that the ship is still disembarking. The halting shifts in momentum she feels let her know that the ship is currently being manoeuvred through an air-lock. The fact that there doesn’t seem to be the static buildup that comes from a ship passing through an atmospheric shield is more proof that they are now disembarking from a stealth space station somewhere. The energy signature coming from a shield can be picked up from lightyears around, which is why most hidden bases have purely mechanical airlocks.

  She observes some of the social dynamics going on between the various team members, but she only finds the usual subconscious jealousies, hidden admirations - and even one hidden love - amongst other things that might make for excellent advantages.

  “I hope you all have augmented digestive systems, because we are going in for a long jump.” Their smoking team leader stands up, carefully handing out small packages, one to each person. “Wrap nets. If one of you even scratches one of these… Well, your own gestator or mother won’t be able to recognise you after what I will do to you if you risk my life like that. Keep these intact, and if you break one, make sure you’re far away from me.”

  Fienak is handed one of the small sacks, and she takes it with a bewildered look. There is not a single marking or brand name on the package. Instead, there is but a simple set of instructions. Gently holding the item to the back of her head, she nearly panics when it slaps around her skull like a combination between a cold, grasping hand and a spider’s web. She immediately feels extremely trapped, imprisoned, and limited, all at once. The choking feeling fades quickly, though, and she takes a deep breath as she sees her teammates apply the thin webs over
their own heads.

  “Again, if one of you touches those things without express need…” The smoke billowing from the person intensifies for a single moment. “Now sit down and don’t regurgitate your nutri-paste, or I will make you lick it from the floor.”

  Still feeling oddly claustrophobic, Fienak takes a deep and calming breath. She thought that being pressure cooked in dozens of simulations would have prepared her for something mundane as a real-world warp jump, but her nerves disagree.

  “Say bye bye, now!”

  “How long are we going, sir?” Instead of answering Sergeant Kee’s question, the smoking person just presses the big red button on his tablet's display.

  Fienak breathes in sharply. The entire world turns upside down, inside out, and right-side up at the same time. A momentary eternity later, she breathes out. The ship immediately starts shaking nearly imperceptibly, and Fienak tries to come to grips that they just jumped an unknown amount of lightyears. The time inside the ship might have stood still, there is no telling how many centuries passed outside the ship. The more expensive a ship, the less time it wastes, so Fienak takes a little comfort in the knowledge that nothing about the vessel looks cheap. Not even knowing where or when she is now, she takes a deep breath as she prepares for might be next.

  Chapter Five – Wrongful Externalization

  Douglas is overjoyed. The longest labour of his entire life has borne fruit. The core inside his bony mount is now pumping magic through its entire shell, each white plate receiving a trickle of blue power. The amount of mental effort this took - and still takes - would have lobotomized any sane person a thousand times over, but Douglas’s single-minded simplicity actually makes him the perfect being to perform this task. He didn’t mind that he had to go through dozens of different iterations of the simplest moving joint in the complex being. Nor did he become extremely bored when testing out thousands of possible combinations made from simple concepts.