by Dean Henegar
— 7 —
Slater drifted in a haze, unable to focus on any one thing. He was content as his being encompassed the derelict. As things began to come back into focus, he felt and saw so much more than he ever had in his human form. Drifting, he became aware of a new feeling, a feeling of loss. Was there something missing? Unable to decide what this new and unpleasant feeling was, he sought its source.
With a bit of practice, he found he could check the various aspects of himself, looking for the source of growing loss within him. He flowed to the very heart of himself. His being was displayed as a ball of golden light with tendrils slipping off in various directions. It was his core and the nanobot attachments to the various parts of his derelict. In the center of his core, a black spot had formed—a spot that was not him, a spot that was rapidly growing and consuming him even as he watched.
A test of wills began as Slater scrambled for some way to fight back against what was happening to him. The further the darkness grew, the more of him he would lose. His vision swirled, showing images of his core being corrupted, followed by images of various parts of the derelict. Slater slowed down the flashing images, taking time to watch each one and searching for a way to fight back.
After a while, things didn’t seem so bad; he started to feel that trying to fight what was happening to him didn’t really matter. The dark spot grew and grew, and he felt less and less concerned. He amused himself by looking about the ship, watching each room as his MOBS went about their duties. Stopping when he found himself in the former reactor room that now housed his core, Slater observed a picture and some fabric shapes attached to the wall. They should mean something to him, shouldn’t they? After all, they wouldn’t be here if they didn’t serve some important purpose for the derelict.
The picture was of a ship, and it was familiar. It was the . . . USS Sampson. A destroyer he commanded when he was human. A noble ship and a crew he was honored to serve with. He was a captain in the United States Navy. The memory was coming back even as the blackness sought to consume it. He . . . No, he was not just an ambiguous entity; he was Captain Slater and he commanded this derelict. He would not give way so easily to the darkness eating at him. Slater remembered his hopeless fight against the kobolds that had attacked the fleet. He recalled the destruction of the Franklin at his own hand, the blast transforming him into what he now was. The command he issued back then, the command that hadn’t been given in so long . . . what was it?
All hands, prepare to repel boarders! Slater heard his voice call out once more. Forcing himself to struggle against what was happening, Captain Slater sought some way to fight back. Pressure built between him and the darkness consuming him. Their test of wills was coming to a head; only one would be victorious and survive the encounter. But how could he fight a battle inside his own mind? The derelict he and his foe had fought for control of responded to his inquiry—forming an appropriate battlefield of the mind for the two to settle their dispute.
Slater began to form an image in his mind, the image of a ship from times long past, a vessel from the age of sail. The ship, realistic in every way to Slater, took shape out of the void. He could hear the creak of the wooden hull, the flapping of the sails, and the ocean rushing beneath him. Placing himself on the quarterdeck, Slater held the ship’s wheel in his hand, feeling the tension against it as he kept his vessel on course. But there was still the danger of his opponent, a danger he wouldn’t have to face alone.
Slater began to think about a crew for this proud ship he found himself on. Portals opened around the deck and his crew stepped forth. Every one of the sailors held either a cutlass and pistol or wielded a bayonet-tipped musket. The sound of drums was heard as the ship beat to quarters. A fight was about to start, and his crew was ready for it. Slater was garbed in his old navy uniform, rank tabs and fabrics of the modern navy standing out in stark contrast to this battlefield of yesteryear. His derelict core was now this ship and its crew. Another vessel spawned into existence and grappled against his own vessel. The two could not be separated. The other ship had decks that were dark and foreboding. Another crew lined the rails across from his, a crew composed of creatures from nightmare itself.
Roughly humanoid, the opposing crew resembled a blend between a human and an insect. The beings were covered in a protective carapace and their heads held sharp mandibles that clacked together. Four arms protruded from their abdomens, each appendage wielding either a cutlass or boarding hook. The weapons, seemingly crafted from the same material as their bodies, were extensions of themselves and not some objects they had picked up. Slater had the distinct feeling that these creatures were hungry and that his crew would be their next meal. The nightmare creatures began to swarm over the railings and onto his ship.
“Repel boarders! Get those things off my ship!” Slater commanded as he pointed the flintlock pistol in his hand at one of the creatures and fired. His men met the onslaught with a blast of musketry. The solid lead balls easily smashed through the hardened carapaces of their foes and into the sickly yellow flesh beneath. Abominations fell to the gunfire, but there would be no time to reload as more and more swarmed over the railings. The deck of his own ship began to take on the darkened appearance of the enemy vessel as the creatures gained ground against his force.
His crew fought valiantly but were being slowly overwhelmed. The invaders would lash out with all four arms, far more attacks than his sailors could block. Once their foul weapons struck, they embedded themselves in the sailors’ flesh. Slater looked on in horror as the weapons began to drink from the lifeblood of any victim they had been thrust into. A horrible and gruesome death, one oddly reminiscent of the death he was trying to stave off within this dreamlike state. The blackness sought to consume him even as these abominations sought to consume his crew.
His numbers were too few and he needed some advantage over this voracious enemy. Casting his view outside of the ongoing battle, he found himself once again inside the reactor room. The wall held the picture of his first command, but something else also hung beside the picture. There on the wall were the small patches, each depicting a deployment cruise or a ship he had served on. Memories of those vessels and of the men and women he had served with flooded him once more, lending him the strength of will that he would need.
Slater was back on the quarterdeck, the men on the deck below having been slaughtered by the horde of abominations. The last few sailors tried to hold back the swarm climbing the steps to the quarterdeck he stood upon. One by one, each of his remaining crew fell as they fought bravely against an unstoppable tide of creatures. But these sailors were not the last, not even close. A light flared behind him and over the different parts of the ship. From these lights poured more sailors, each resembling a member of one of his past crews. These were his comrades, those he had served and fought with. The ghosts of their memories became flesh in this fight to stop what was happening to him.
The newcomers tore into the creatures, pushing back the horde. Sailors armed with muskets lined the quarterdeck, firing into the mass of creatures below, each shot killing an opponent. The sailors on the main deck held the monsters at bay as the musketeers reloaded and fired, again and again, shattering the voracious horde that faced them. Unable to stand the firepower lashing into their ranks, the creatures retreated, scrambling back over the railing to stand on their own vessel. Slater made his way down to the main deck as the last few creatures aboard his ship were dispatched.
From below the decks of the enemy vessel, something began to emerge. This new creature was similar in shape to the others around it, only it was much more massive. The hatchway to the main deck of the enemy ship warped and opened like the mouth of a living thing as the giant creature squirmed its way out from below. Deck planks creaked in protest as the twenty-foot-tall creature strode up to its own quarterdeck, taking direct command of the conflict. Slater’s opponent had revealed itself, standing defiant as it looked down upon him and his crew. The musketeer
s fired a volley, the lead balls glancing off its hard carapace.
“Leave off that thing. Focus on the others we know we can kill,” Slater ordered, and his musket-wielding sailors complied, sending their deadly and accurate fire into the ranks of the enemy crew. There was something missing still, some weapon he knew he should have on his ship and would turn the tide. They were missing . . . It was . . . cannons! As soon as he thought about it, a battery of four cannons appeared on the main deck, their barrels pointed toward the decks of the enemy ship. Slater knew what he must do.
“Give them a whiff of the grape, then have at them!” Slater ordered, flowing into the role the derelict had crafted for him. Sailors ran to the guns, ramming home first a bag of powder, then bags holding musket balls. The guns were run forward through their ports and aimed across the enemy deck. Sailors grabbed flaming matches and looked to their captain to confirm the order.
“No! How do you know how to do this? You were supposed to fall quietly into the darkness as I took control,” the giant creature shouted. Slater wasn’t sure what the thing was, but something about it was familiar. He nodded to his crew, who touched their matches to the cannon, each one roaring in succession as they belched forth their deadly cargo. Swarms of musket balls swept the decks of the enemy ship, slaughtering by the score the creatures that waited there. His sailors crossed to the enemy ship, the dark vessel’s deck awash with the yellow gore of their foes.
Slater grabbed a rope and swung across to join his forces. A new flow of creatures emerged from belowdecks to join the battle, but the flow of opponents was beginning to slow as the deck of the enemy ship started to change. Slater watched as the space cleared by his men transformed from dark and foreboding into a deck very much like that of his own ship. As more and more of the deck changed, the flow of enemies emerging became a trickle before finally stopping completely. The monsters also began to grow weaker, their blows slowing to the point that his own men began to hold the advantage in melee.
In short order, they cleared most of the main deck, his forces pushing toward the quarterdeck where the giant abomination waited with a final knot of creatures to defend it. His crew also forced their way belowdecks to dispose of whatever foes might be lurking there. Replacements for his own losses began to respawn on the deck of his vessel, rushing over to replace the fallen. The giant abomination shrank, its size and power diminishing as its ship was taken by Slater’s forces. Soon, the only place left infected by the creatures was the small area of the quarterdeck where the giant and the last of his brood awaited their fate.
“No, Slater. Stay your hand and let me live. I can help you. Together we can dominate the stars. We’ll feed upon and destroy all those who dare face us. It will be glorious!” the monstrosity claimed.
Slater’s vision filled with a picture of what the creature was offering. The two of them, Slater and his new partner, grew the derelict. They cast off all restraint, feeding upon any who had the misfortune to cross their path. It was wonderful, and Slater shouted in glee as ship after ship, then world after world, fell to his hunger. It was an intoxication of a nature he had never felt before. The pleas of the dying inhabitants as they consumed system after system meant nothing to him. There was no mercy in Slater; there was only the need to consume more.
The madness fled him as a final world appeared. Blue and green and perfect, this world hung in space. His hunger faded as he looked upon it—it was Earth, his home. No, he would not slip into madness and gluttony. He would remain himself; he would remain Captain Slater. The vision faded, the madness gone from him. His foe was one he now recognized.
“Pixi, what did you think you would accomplish with this insanity?” Slater demanded as his crew cut down the last of Pixi’s abominations. The creature had continued to shrink, now the size of a small housecat.
“It’s the way of my kind, buddy. I did lie a little when we first spoke. I am a parasite, yep, and the kind that kills its host. You see, if I kill my host, I don’t die. I take over the core. Having their own core is the goal of my entire species. We kill our hosts early on while they’re still weak and take over. I would say sorry, but it’s just who I am, big guy,” Pixi confessed.
He looked pitiful now. Powerless. Slater was no fool and would not trust the creature before him. The pistol in his hand was raised, pointing at the little parasite. A blast of flame and smoke poured forth, yet Pixi sat there unharmed. Slater dropped the pistol and slashed with his blade, scoring a mark across the little creature but doing no real damage. Strike after strike yielded the same result; he was unable to kill this thing with brute force.
“Ouch, that does hurt, you know. I get it. You feel betrayed a bit at my actions. Can’t we let bygones be bygones and go back to being a team?” Pixi pleaded.
“Not a chance, parasite. I’ll find a way to kill you. Until then, you’ll be placed where you can’t do any harm,” Slater said, imagining a cage around the little parasite. Something resembling a pet carrier appeared around Pixi, and Slater knew that this strange box would prevent the parasite from spreading.
“No fair, boss, but I do have to hand it to you. You’re taking to this derelict thing like a champ. I heard it usually takes hosts way longer to learn how to control themselves like you can. So are all you humans this strong of will or was it just you in particular? If it’s your race in general, I should send out a warning when we get a chance. Not that I’m going to try and call for help or anything. I just want a chance to let the rest of my kind know not to mess with humans,” Pixi said in his painfully cheery manner.
Slater tuned out the parasite as a new interface option appeared before him.
Parasite Permissions: You have complete control of the derelict core. Set the permission level for your accompanying parasitic interstellar xeno-infestation.
Level 1: The parasite has no control over any functions of the core and is locked from any communications other than with its host. The parasite cannot access the nanobot network or view any activities other than those occurring within its containment shell.
Level 2: The parasite has access to nanobot network in an observation-only capacity. It cannot influence or perform any actions other than observe.
Level 3: The parasite has limited interaction with the network and is able to send and receive communications with any vessel in range.
Level 4: The parasite has full control over the internal workings of the derelict, but its decisions can still be overridden by the derelict host.
Level 5: The host cedes control of all functions to the parasite. Warning! This level of control will allow the parasite to consume the host if it so wishes.
“Why can’t I kill you?” Slater grumbled as he reviewed the options.
“Sorry, buddy,” Pixi replied. “You can’t function normally without me along for the ride. I’m still bound to the derelict, and without me, you would lose focus and slowly slip into madness. It stinks, I get it, but it’s the way of the universe, boss. You’re stuck with me even if you don’t like it,” Pixi said in reply.
Slater didn’t trust the little turd, but somehow, he knew Pixi was telling the truth about this aspect of his existence. He set parasite permissions to the lowest setting, level 1, and found the ship’s deck he was standing upon, as well as his crew, begin to fade away.
Upgrade complete. Resuming derelict control in 5 . . . 4 . . . 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . .
— 8 —
Slater’s vision returned to the core room as he awoke. The strange time spent battling with Pixi was almost like a dream fading into the mists as the derelict came alive around him. He felt stronger and was now able to project his vision to any point in the ship with hardly any effort. The connection to the MOBS also felt enhanced, and he understood a bit more about how they functioned and how he could control them in a more efficient manner. Slater pulled up his information tab to review the changes that had occurred.
Slater, Derelict Core, Level 1, Experience: 125/250
Core
Health: 4/100
Core Power: 10/20
Biomass: 112
Salvage: 264
Nanobot Permeation: 30%
Compartments Controlled: 6
Defenses: None
MOBS: kobold taskmaster (1), kobolds (2), pair of bilge rats (1)
Boss MOBS: 0
Construction Drones: 5
MOBS Schematics:
Kobold, Level 1 (taskmaster variant unlocked)
Construction Drone, Level 1
Bilge Rat, Level 0
Gear Schematics:
Dagger, Level 0
Club, Level 0
Cutlass, Level 1
Laser Pistol, Level 0
Defensive Structure Schematics:
Pit Trap, Level 1
Tripwire Trap, Level 1
Interior Schematics:
Secret Door, Level 1
Interior Trim, Level 1
Time until next jump: n/a. Core needs to be fully repaired to begin the jump sequence.
It appeared that he had increased quite a bit in power and unlocked some interesting options. Too bad he had no idea what to do now. Slater decided to spend some time looking about the different compartments, trying to see if they or the hatches that separated them had changed in any way, but first, he pulled up information on the defensive structures and interior schematics, curious as to what those were.
Pit Trap, Level 1: A 10-foot-deep concealed pit can be placed at various points on the derelict. The pit contains sharpened metal spikes to kill or damage any who fall into it. It should be noted that there must be enough deck space beneath the compartment that the pit trap is constructed in. A pit trap requires 15 salvage. Resetting the trap after it has been triggered requires 5 salvage.
Tripwire Trap, Level 1: The tripwire trap consists of a thin trigger wire that releases a spring-loaded metal spike. A tripwire trap requires 10 salvage. Resetting the trap after it has been triggered requires 5 salvage.