quickfics

[quickfics]

Reports from a Shield District Watch Captain

Spend enough time here and you realize all the lies they spin on the other side of the Span amount to little more than shit on a prick. These people aren’t savages, and they aren’t criminals. They’re victims of circumstance forced to endure any way available to them, and when the opulence and riches of Nys Eka’s elite glitter one gentle-sloping curve of Ancient architecture away, well. Sometimes the simplest truth, no matter how boring, is the most authentic. When it seems like someone has so very much, how can you not reason that they could LIVE to have a *little* less...

[quickfics]

Blade Runner 2049: Verdict

They actually pulled it off. This film’s been haunting me for a week. Will put down more thoughts when I’ve fully processed it. Might take a second viewing!

Go see it. It’s fucking gorgeous.

Blade Runner 2049: Verdict was originally published on manadrive

[quickfics]

Morning Call

“Thank you for joining me.”

Chris Hargrave, angular features like something custom ordered from this year’s Executive Line of Good Looks, stood incongruously against a long stretch of meadow that rolled down to a crescent slice of beach. Orange sand glittered in the low glint of the still-rising sun.

As if any of them had a choice.

The HardSec team sat in an assortment of armchairs spread in a semi-circle around Hargrave, as though the rest of the house the furniture once belonged to had been blown away. Parminder Sheikh and Yvette Roux both smoked wit the careless disregard that comes from knowing no biological price need be paid. Taye Ellison and Cassie Zheng slouched with youthful cool in full recline. Matthew Kinneas rested his arms on his knees, statue-still, like something carved from the chair.

“Just get on with it,” Parminder muttered, her gaze thrown somewhere over Hargrave’s shoulder.

Matt flung a disapproving look her way.

“Very well.” The flicker of disdain barely registered on Hargrave’s gene-polished features, there and gone in a fraction of a second. “Three months ago, the Malleable Truth cut its umbilical transmission and went dark. Fortunately, we managed to ping the ship using transit buoys and determine that it was still en route to Mars, albeit on a slightly altered course.”

“Glitch in the system?” Yvette offered. “Onboard V.I. would put her down on an empty plot of Martian soil if she decided with our stalk was unsafe.”

“A distinct possibility.” Hargrave ran a hand through mathematically meticulous hair. “But not one I suspect is the case.”

“You think another corp made a play?” From Matt, the question edged more toward matter-of-fact statement.

“Hijacking a ship mid-flight from Earth to Mars?” Taye twisted upright. “That’s a ballsy move.”

“The freight aboard the Malleable Truth is desirable enough to motivate our competitors to such actions. “Hargrave’s gaze drifted up in thought. “Sarandos Biosystems, perhaps. Maybe even GenTech. Regardless, the board determined the most prudent move—despite the cost—was to send a team to intercept.”

“And here we are.” Cassie shifted so she sat on crossed legs, hands gripping her ankles. “So what’s all the fuss about?”

“Nothing you need concern yourselves with.” Hargrave held one hand palm-up and magicked a scroll of glowing text into existence. Mission terms, parameters. “Your only concern is ensuring the Truth remains in Hargrave-Demir’s possession. If it’s not, return it to that state. Afterward, you’ll escort the ship home. Skeleton supervision on a weekly rotation.”

“Oh, fun—a week’s vacation alone in scenic empty space.” Yvette blew a lungful of smoke skyward.

“The company compensates you well enough to not warrant any complaint, Ms. Roux.”

“Who’s complaining?” Yvette flashed a grin toward Taye. “I can finally catch up on my flicks, and get paid for it.”

“If I may continue, the Malleable Truth is a Clarke-class cargo vessel.” Hargrave’s scroll of text reconfigured into a representation of the ship. “Minimal crew. Supervision is handled by the Virtual Intelligence’s physical avatar. Hargrave-Demir personnel fly along in cryostasis as a contingency, in case anything the computer can’t handle comes up.”

“Any idea whether they were thawed?” Matt magicked a display of his own to life, and started sifting through the personnel files for the Malleable Truth.

“No. Beyond confirming the ship’s still out there, we’ve been unable to determine the situation inside. Defection is among the potential scenarios we’ve entertained. It may be that the crew somehow triggered early release from cryostasis, incapacitated the V.I., and reprogrammed the ship’s trajectory to rendezvous with one of our competitors.”

“And if they have?” Parminder looked up at the Hargrave-Demir exec.

“Standard betrayal clause circumstances apply.”

“Fuck.” She looked away and geysered smoke from her nose.

“Let’s assume that’s the worst case scenario.” Matt scratched at his stubble. “What are the other possibilities?”

Hargrave laid it all out. He went on for half an hour, describing all the probable circumstances based on computer-generated likelihood and providing matching recommended approaches to each. When he finished, and Matt gave verbal confirmation of his understanding, the Hargrave-Demir executive dissolved into a cluster of artifacting fractal butterflies that fluttered out of existence. Once he was gone, Taye, Cassie, and Yvette mimed lifting something off their faces in unison, as if performing a synchronized routine, and blinked away into seeming oblivion same as Hargrave.

Parminder went to make the same motion, but as she did Matt caught her by the arm.

“Do you really need to be such a dick to him?”

“It’s just a construct, Matt.” Parminder’s eyes fell to where his fingers held her forearm.

“Might as well be the real thing.” He let go of her. “The difference between construct and original consciousness is marginal, these days.”

“Still just an echo.”

“Yeah, but an echo that carries out to the H-D data vaults, where it’s scanned and psychoanalyzed and served up to Hargrave in digestible form.”

“Hargrave knows better than to take anything anyone says to a construct personally. It’s the psychological equivalent of a punching bag. He knows it, Assessment knows it. Just like they both know what they got when they hired me.”

“Maybe, but one of these days you’re going to deliver that disrespect in person. Then what?”

Parminder rapped the carbon-black knuckles jutting from the brown skin of her hand like reverse driving gloves against Matt’s shoulder.

“Then I guess one of those suit-stuffed meetings they make us sit in on will finally turn interesting.”

[quickfics]

Questline - Part Five

I left Theda tending to his wounds, winding my way through the shipping containers until I found one marked with the symbol he’d described. Hauled the armor-thick metal door open and stepped inside. Enclosed within was a pile of assorted curios Theda had no doubted amassed from debt collections over the years. I sifted through the mess of artwork, heirlooms, and antiques. Didn’t take long to find the sword. I gripped the handle and held it out.

For all its much-vaunted value and exotic making, it struck me as underwhelming. Seemed like any other sword, save the strange runic lines that branched out from some sort of blue filament embedded along the fuller. Something more for show than slaughter. Then again, if it’s one thing I’ve learned about magic artifacts, there tends to be more to them than meets the eye.

I slung the sword over my shoulder and headed out.

***

At Amral’s estate, one of his servants ushered me through the foyer and into an over-decorated antechamber. I busied myself by trying to decipher the meaning of an abstract sculpture while the merchant made a show of making me wait. I was midway to comprehending what I was pretty sure represented the inexorable march of time and the inevitability of death when Amral finally made his entrance.

“The soulwalker returns.” He clasped his hands together. “Did you find the sword? Is that it?”

“You tell me.” I pointed the sword toward him.

“Yes. Yes! Wonderful! Oh, my sister can sleep soundly in the void now, knowing her cherished weapon is back where it belongs.”

He held his hands out expectantly. I rested the blade back on my shoulder. That earned a vexing look.

“The job is done, soulwaker—“

“Kuran.”

“Kuran. Yes. Please, return to me what is rightfully mine.”

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“You lied to me, Amral. Said the sword was stolen. Your friend Theda told a different story, though.”

“He is no friend of mine.”

“But he is a business associate, no? One you owe so much money you put up the sword to pay off your debts.”

“The matter is…complicated.”

“If you say so.”

“That sword belongs to me, soulwalker.”

“It belonged to your sister. And while I never met the woman—insofar as I know—I suspect she’d rather it be kept in safer hands than yours.”

“You have no right!”

“Nope. But you have bigger concerns right now than two feet of killing steel, Amral.”

His face contorted in confusion and fear.

“What are you talking about?”

“Granted, Theda’s going to need some time to get back on his feet, so to speak, but rest assured—once he does, he’ll come for you. I suggest you pack whatever’s most precious and be gone before then.”

“Theda’s still alive?”

“A little worse for wear, but otherwise yeah.”

“You can’t abandon me to that animal! You have to protect me!”

“No. I don’t. See you around.”

“Soulwalker, stop—“

“Kuran.”

“Whatever! Please!”

Amral reached for my arm. I smashed the pommel of his sister’s sword into his nose and sent him sprawling.

“Get packing, Amral.”

I pulled open the antechamber door and let a servant rush in to help stanch the stream of blood trailing down his master’s broken nose. Spared Amral one last look before I made my way back to the streets of Nazca, sword at my side.

[quickfics]

Questline - Part Four

Should’ve seen this one coming, soulwalker.

Swept up by Naph’s crusade against manatech, I’d let myself get sloppy. Should’ve given Amral a second look, but instead I let him point me toward the nearest magic artifact and chased after it like a grimbeak smelling blood. Guess it really didn’t matter, though. Still needed the sword.

“Look, Theda. Let’s not make this any messier than Amral’s already managed to. You know I can’t leave here without his sister’s weapon.”

“Then I guess you can’t leave here.” He gestured with one hand, palm up.

I turned around to find four of his lackeys had surrounded me, three with hands resting on the hilts of the swords, a fourth with a crossbow leveled at my chest.

“Why give you the sword when I can have it and you.” Theda laced his fingers together, pressed his hands to the back of his head, and leaned back in his chair. “If you really are the soulwalker, I’m sure something of you is bound to be worth a stack or two of stros.”

Slide of steel being freed from scabbards. I kept my eyes on the bowman, hand moving toward my own sword. As soon as my palm grazed the pommel, he squeezed the trigger and loosed the bolt with a dull thwack. I reached within myself, grasping for the gossamer threads of energy that tethered me to all these lifetimes. Felt a sharp cold, like breaching the frozen surface of a pond and plunging your fist into frigid waters. I pulled. The air shimmered around me, folding in itself. The arrow snapped in half mid-flight, then in half again. And again. The pieces dropped to the dirt.

Panicked, the bowman started to crank the crossbow and load a fresh bolt. I freed my blade and charged. He looked up in time to see my sword sink into him, run through until the crossguard pressed against his chest like the hand of a lover. I stood intimately close. Watched his eyes widen with the unmistakable certainty of what I was. I put a hand on his shoulder for leverage and pried my sword out of him. He dropped to his knees and collapsed forward. I turned to face the other three men.

The nearest came at me with an overhead swing. I stepped aside and cut him down with a backhand stroke, sending a ribbon of blood splashing across the packed dirt of the warehouse floor, staining it black. I met the next attacker while he hacked wildly at my head. Brought my own blade up in an arc and severed his sword arm between elbow and wrist. His weapon fell to the earth, fingers still wrapped around the handle. He stared in disbelief at the bleeding stump where his hand once was. A low keening escaped his lips.

I stalked to the last of Theda’s underlings He looked from the bodies of his two fallen colleagues to the mutilated man, then over to me. Dropped his sword and ran, disappearing down the narrow space between the storage containers. Smart man.

That left only Theda. I saw him feverishly trying to unlatch a door at the back of the warehouse. I sighed, strode over to him, and slashed at his thighs. The blade bit through leather and flesh, leaving two long grooves across each leg. He dropped to the ground in a heap. Started babbling for mercy. I grabbed him by the collar of his tunic and hauled his face an inch short of mine.

“Shut up and show me where the sword is.”

[quickfics]

Questline - Part Three

Where the Twilight Span touches down on the western bank of the Ringil River, Nazca takes on a noticeable change. Old World ruins give way to buildings built by our own hands. At the foot of the Span, warehouses group together like the discarded shells of some long-forgotten brood of monsters, the lingering remains of when travel up and down the Ringil served as the city’s chief trade route. When trade took to the seas, the aristo-merchant elite moved into the towering Old World bones of what’s now called Center City. Artists took their place west of the river and converted the warehouse district into a sprawling salon, inside and out. Every surface of Artist’s Garden is splashed with bright colors, blanketed with murals, populated with sculptures, or otherwise adorned in every imaginable artistic expression its denizens can dream up.

Always one with an eye for opportunity, Nevan Raffie came in after the artists and secured a fruitful enterprise as the go-between for Nazca’s nobility and the more illicit services provided on the poorer side of the river. The aristo ruling class aren’t without the same unbecoming habits the rest of us possess, and it’s Nevan that caters to those needs. Slavers, drug peddlers, black market business, just to name a few. In exchange, Nevan establishes patronages for his colony of artists, scraping a generous amount off the top and calling it a finder’s fee, making the whole arrangement seem like an act of philanthropy.

People tend not to look beyond the surface. 

Theda having situated himself next door to Nevan told me two things: that there was most certainly some connection between the two, and that Theda was considerably more dangerous than Amral indicated.

I considered my options. Visiting Nevan at the Shattered Sky and having him set up a meeting would be the sensible thing to do, but it might also scare Theda into selling the sword sooner. I could slip in unseen and steal the sword, but it would just send Theda right back to Amral’s doorstep. I briefly entertained finding Case, Sorandra, or even Naph to help take the unsubtle approach, but that risked provoking Nevan and bringing a weight of trouble tumbling down on me I didn’t want.

In the end, I settled on speaking to Theda directly. It didn’t take much effort to determine which warehouse north of the Shattered Sky was his. A few artist-looking types high on hinas happily pointed me in the right direction, and before long I stood outside Theda’s operation, eyed down by a bouncer clearly bored by his duties.

“The fuck you want?”

“To speak to Theda.”

“He expecting you?”

“That’s very unlikely.”

“Then fuck off.”

I pressed thumb and forefinger into my eyes. Tried to rein in my frustration for playing the next card.

“Tell him the soulwalker’s here to see him.”

That earned me a familiar look—some mix of disbelief and amused dismissal. The bouncer banged on the door with the back of his heavy boots. When it cracked open, he exchanged a few whispered words with whoever was on the other side, then the door swung shut again. The guard and I stood there, pointedly looking past one another. When the door finally cracked back open, a hand beckoned me.

Inside, the warehouse was crowded with shipping containers someone had somehow managed to drag down from the rail yard, the space between them forming a labyrinth of corridors. The guard who waved me in led me through narrow space without a word. We eventually emerged in what remained of the warehouse proper, where a patriarchal man in his mid-fifties sat behind a utilitarian table littered with parchment. He gestured to the battered wooden chair opposite his desk. I tried not to roll my eyes as I sat down.

“The soulwalker, huh? That’s a pretty good line. You’re a lot more...plain-looking than I expected.”

“I take it you’re Theda, then?”

“That’s right, but between the two of us I’m the one who’s not a myth. How do I know you’re not some drunk trying to hustle me?”

“You don’t. But I’m not about to summon angelfire out of the sky just to show off, so how ‘bout the benefit of the doubt?”

He chuckled.

“Alright. I’ll indulge you. What is it that brings the storied soulwalker before me?”

“A sword. I imagine you know the one I’m talking about. The owner would like it back.”

“Would he now?”

“Theda, whatever business rivalry you and that snake-tongued aristo fuck have going on is none of my concern. But a weapon fashioned from Amata remnants is not something I can let fall into the wrong hands.”

Theda leaned into his chair, grinning.

“What did that scumbag merchant sell you, soulwalker?”

“I prefer Kuran.”

“Alright, Kuran. Tell me. What did Amral sell you?”

“He seems pretty convinced you broke into his home and stole the sword, and that you’ll likely sell it and use the profits to buy out his family’s business. Which, as I said, I don’t give a damn about. I’m only here to make sure the sword doesn’t wind up sold to the Malrain. Or worse.”

Theda guffawed.

“Amral Jeyn sold you lies, soulwalker. Kuran, sorry. You’re wasting your time here. I’m not Amral’s competitor, I’m his banker. I deal in debt. And Amral is in the hole for quite a bit. He gave me the sword, you see. Put it up as collateral to keep his family business afloat.”

Well, shit.

[quickfics]

Questline - Part Two

Amral wasn’t much like his sister, as it turned out. Although the way he told it, she was the strange one. Born into a line of affluent merchants, Amira—his sister—decided to pursue a life of violence over the cushioned safety and financial stability of mercantile interests. Wanting instead to carve her own path, she took up literal sword and shield and joined Granseal’s Guardians. And when the sky ripped open above Zarephath, she was shipped up north. There’s a good chance Naph and I fought shoulder to shoulder with the woman. Maybe at the Siege in the Square, or Tower’s Fall. If she could walk away in one piece from Zarephath, though, it was tough to believe anything in the city could take her down. I decided against pressing the matter further.

Anyway, Amral seemed certain about what happened to his sister’s sword. Convinced, you might say.

“It was Theda.” He paced along a wall lined with leather-bound books restlessly, like a caged animal. “Had to be. That swindler has had it out for our family for years.”

True to the wealth Amral’s plush robes conveyed, his three-story home was a testament to accumulated riches. Overstuffed chairs stood sentry in every corner. Trinkets and fineries lined the walls, opulent displays of money and power that would probably impress most people who set foot in the residence. To me, they seemed little more than a collection of dreck.

“And why’s that?” I asked, swirling the cup of wine he’d poured for me earlier. Probably expected me to comment on its vintage or something. I guess my aristocratic etiquette had gathered rust in the last few lifetimes.

“Jealousy, I imagine.” He gestured at our surroundings. “The Jeyn line’s done well for itself, and our services during the Zarephath campaign built us quite the reputation among Nazca’s nobility.”

“I still don’t see how that would drive the man to kick in your door and steal a family heirloom. Seems like a pretty petty move on his part.”

“The sword is built from the bones of an Amata, soulwalker.” Amral looked at me as though I were stupid. “Any number of Nazca’s less reputable institutions would stack up stros to get their hands on something like that. The Malrain, the Knights of Sevenec. Hell, even Granseal’s Guardians.”

“Far point. What makes you think the Guardians didn’t take it? Or the Malrain, for that matter?”

“I suppose that’s not out of the question,” He scratched his beard in thought. “Though, I doubt the Malrain know the sword exists. Not unless Theda tipped them off. As for the Guardians, I don’t know. Samara runs a tight ship, and she respects her soldiers. It would be dishonorable to steal a dead woman’s sword.”

“Would they have any compunction about buying it from Theda?”

“That would certainly...uncomplicate things for them.” Didn’t seem Amral liked the taste of that in his mouth.

“Alright, let’s stick with the Theda theory for now. So, he breaks in, makes off with your sister’s sword. Sells it. Then what?”

“Then he orchestrates a takeover, to add insult to injury. Or perhaps injury to insult. Whichever the case, the money and connections he’d make from selling the sword would give him enough leverage to topple us. But knowing Theda, he wouldn’t stop there. No, he’d want to embarrass us as thoroughly as possible. Retain us as middle management, make us watch as generations of our hard work piled stros high for him.”

“Well, it’s as good a lead as any.” I set the jewel-encrusted goblet down on the nearest shelf, then stood up. “Where do I find him?”

“He’s usually holed up in the old warehouse district, just north of the Shattered Sky. Do you know the place?”

Go fucking figure. In all of Nazca, Theda had set up shop in Nevan’s neighborhood. Didn’t have to wonder why.

“Intimately.”

[quickfics]

Questline - Part One

I first met Amral Jeyn in the crush of shoppers crowding Nazca’s dockside markets. I’d just delivered something for Case to smuggle overseas—didn’t know what, didn’t care. Coming from Naph, you could bet a pretty tall pile of stros it wasn’t anything innocent. Anyway, after catching up with Case, I hopped off her boat and clamored down the gangway. That’s when I caught Amral staring at me. No furtive glances, no subterfuge. Concern faded like water in sand.

Still, a lifetime or two in the city teaches you that anyone giving you a hard look is probably peddling trouble, so I plunged deeper into the sea of shoppers, hoping he’d lose me in the mob. Almost reached the Dusk Span when, after slipping between a pair of stalls, I found him standing there.

“You’re the soulwalker, aren’t you?” It leaned more toward statement than question.

Here we go again.

“Just how the fuck do you know that name?” I asked wearily, a hint more bite than intended.

“You are perhaps not as unknown in the city as you’d like, soulwalker.” He smiled and took a step closer.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Then what should I call you?”

“Kuran’s fine. Just Kuran.”

“Very well then, Kuran. My name is Amral Jeyne. I am in need of your service.”

“No.”

“Please, hear me out.”

“Absolutely not. I’m not for hire. There’s countless sellswords swigging beer at every bar in Nazca. Go hurl your stros at them. They’ll happily risk their necks for a few stacks over whatever fool’s errand you’ve got lined up.”

“I didn’t think the soulwalker would lower his worth to that of a common sellsword.”

“Yeah, well. You were wrong.”

“That may be, but I don’t think I’m wrong in believing you are among the very few suited to handle this particular problem.”

“Dahfede’s fiery balls, what are you going on about?”

“Something precious has been taken from me, soulwalker, something—”

“Kuran.”

“Yes. Kuran. Sorry. My sister's sword—it was stolen from our house.”

“It’s a shard of hammered steel and a handle, friend. Go find a new one. The sentimental value’s not worth the trouble.”

“Perhaps not usually. Unfortunately, this sword is quite unique. Not many have had dealings with the Amata and lived to tell the tale, like you.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake—“

“My sister shared that honor. She returned from the Wasteland with the bones of one that almost claimed her life, and from them forged a weapon. A magic blade of considerable powerful.”

“And you let this sword get lost in the wild.”

“I did not let it go anywhere. As I said, it was robbed from me.”

"And your sister, mighty warrior woman that she is, can’t reclaim the sword herself?"

“She is dead.”

“Guess not, then.”

That struck a nerve. I watched his jaw shift as he clenched his teeth to suppress the flash of anger that stole through him. Seemed the casual dismissal of his much-venerated dead sister was a step too far. Well, at least that meant he was serious.

“I would think the soulwalker of all—”

“Kuran.”

“Yes. Kuran. I would think that you of all people would show more concern about rogue magic artifacts falling into the wrong hands."

Fucking fireside stories. That nonsense haunted me like a wraith from one life to the next. I pressed thumb and forefinger into my eyes, suddenly exhausted. Behind the shuttered lids, I could see the disapproving glare Naphtali would pin me with if I turned this fool down. Dark Emissaries damn it all.

“Fine. Why don’t you take me back to your place and tell me everything.”

A smile broke apart the bitter look he'd adopted.  

"Follow me," he said.

[quickfics]

Gone Dark - Part One [on hold]

When your best friend goes missing, you don’t sit by and wait for the uninvested to authorities to stumble across something of relevance. You go digging. Especially when you’ve put a few AUs between you and the nearest planet. Out this far in the dark, almost twice the distance Mars is from our shared sun, companionship is something of a scarcity. Sure, you’ll make drinking buddies, or meet people to keep you company down in the game den, but they just service the day-to-day distraction bridging the end of one work shift and the start of the next. A person whose presence you genuinely enjoy, though? That’s about as rare as water out here.

     When Shay didn’t show up to riff on the new selection of sims tightbeamed from Earth, I didn’t think much of it. Just figured he got into it with his husband again. Hamza laying into Shay was a weekly routine. Besides, a few drinks eased up the immediate frustration. Put on an old classic and kick back till bed. And when we didn’t spend the next day bouncing jokes back and forth over the chatstream, I chalked it up to procrastination catching up to him professionally. But when he didn’t show up to the bar that night for our usual post-work ritual, I started to worry.

     A few drinks more than my typical nightly routine buoyed me with just the right mix of intrepid impulsiveness to drift the station's dimly lit corridors until I arrived at his living quarters. I expected him to answer the door half-dressed, mid-argument with Hamza. I'd apologize for switching into maternal mode, then spend the next week or so suffering an appropriate amount of mockery for being an alarmist.

     At his door, I announced my presence by thumbing the chime. No response. Could be they were out, could be that Hamza was pointedly ignoring me. We get on well enough, but I don't think he ever took to sharing Shay, unwarranted jealousy breeding resentment toward our friendship. I wasn't wired in the sort of way that should worry Hamza. Oh well. Whatever the reason, there's not much between us beyond polite civility. 

     I waited outside their door for an hour, just in case they weren't home, but eventually impatience and boredom got the better of me.

     Back to the bar.

     My earlier buzz fading,  I ordered another whisky sour and slowly drained it while staring at a newsfeed in the corner, not really soaking up any of the stories. When the glass clinked empty, only ice remaining, I had another. I was moving on to my third when the SPD shouldered their way into the bar, armored up like bipedal beetles, and made a beeline right to my stool.

     "Etienne Gray?" I couldn't tell which cop addressed me.

     "That's me. Something I can help you with?"

     "You're friends with Shay Sadik?"

     "It's not a big secret."

     "Shay Sadik, husband of Hamza Sadik?"

     I felt a black hole open in my chest.

[quickfics]

Fantasy Star - Part Six

What hauled itself out defied biological reason. It passed for humanoid—it had a head, a chest, two arms—but beyond that the similarities stopped. The newly birthed biomonster was three times their size, armored with chitinous plates that covered large portions of its skull, shoulders, and arms. Where the armor was absent, skin the color of bruises stretched taut across bulging muscle. As though it had emerged not yet fully formed, the torso terminated at a loose arrangement of flesh instead of legs. Using its arms, it dragged itself forward. Two fist-sized orbs scanned the room, sweeping right to left. Below them, a jaw overstuffed with jagged teeth hung open, a diseased-looking tongue lolled over the double row of fangs. The sound that escaped its throat was like tearing metal, like fury tinged with pain and agony.

    Cade struck first.

    His slicers arced past Alleyne, cutting through the air. They danced across the creature’s armored shoulders in a shower of sparks, then returned to Cade, summoned back by the unseen energy tether that connected the angled blades to their deployment handles. They left no discernible damage. The creature raised one its massive arms and brought its hand palm-down on the four of them. Alleyne dived into Emlee, knocking the other woman safely back. Cade and Reeve both barely rolled clear. The enormous hand slapped the ground and shook the room.

    Vibroknives held at her sides, Alleyne stalked toward the biomonster, wishing to Myau’s many tails she still had her shotgun. The creature’s other arm whipped out, faster than Alleyne could react, and sent her sailing across the room. She crashed to the floor in a heap.

    “Alleyne!” Her student cried out. He started toward her, but before he made two steps the biomonster’s fingers coiled around him, the crushing weight of their strength pressing down on his entire body.

    Back on their feet, Reeve raced toward the biomonster and hurled themself full-bodied into the arm. Unable to shift its weight accordingly, the biomonster dropped Cade and smashed to the ground face first.

    Alleyne, still slightly dazed, staggered upright. Blood poured from a gash in her forehead, streaking down the left side of her face. As her vision regained focus, a single thought flashed through her mind. Enough. She limped toward the biomonster, sheathing her vibroknives along the way. Shots rang out—Emlee emptying the loaded clip of Cade’s handgun until it clicked empty, slide locked back.

    Alleyne reached into the ether, into the mysterious spaces pocketed between the fabric of reality. She raised one hand and traced a symbol in the air with her forefinger. Foi. The conduit swelled with unseen energy, distorting the air around her like heat baking off asphalt. Then it abruptly burst into a wave of fire that washed over the biomonster, searing across its skin. The wall of flame burned through flesh, charring it to a blackened crust. The creature collapsed on its back, arms thrashing wildly, hands tearing at its own skin in a maddened attempt to smother the flames. In its anguish, it didn’t see Alleyne draw near. She tugged one of her vibroknives free, and buried it in the thing’s brain. Syrupy black blood oozed over the handle of her weapon. The biomonster jerked up, then flopped unmoving to the ground, traces of it still smoldering.

    Once sure the biomonster was good and dead, the Peacekeeper fell to her knees and hunched over, vomiting onto the ground. Cade, lightly bruised but none the worse for wear, came to her side and laid a hand on her shoulder, but otherwise left her be. Her convulsing eventually slowed, breathing falling back to normal rhythms. She eased herself upright, still settled on her knees.

    Reeve crossed the room and stood over her.

    “As I attempted to say earlier,” they gestured toward the equipment that had given birth to the biomonster, “this machine is not wholly your culture’s design. A large portion of it appears to be salvaged from so-called precursor tech. I’d recognize it anywhere. You might say that, to me, it’s like looking at a piece of home.”

    Alleyne closed her eyes and composed herself. Wiped what remained of her last meal from her mouth with the sleeve of her coat. At some point Emlee had wandered over to join them. Alleyne looked up at the other woman. Their eyes locked.

    “I think your director and I need to have a talk,” she growled.

[quickfics]

Fantasy Star - Part Five

“We’ve found the problem,” a second engineer strode up to the group gathered at the workstation. “Well, one of them.”

     “Let’s hear it.” Alleyne rested her hands on her hips.

     “The geo-code assembler was reconfigured. I’m talking on a hardware level. Rebuilt to specs outside the original design. Someone needs to get down to it and see if they can’t reset it manually."

     “I’ll go,” the woman at the workstation said. “System tech’s my specialty, anyway.”

     “We’re coming along, too.” Alleyne tapped a light tattoo along the handles of her vibroknives. “No telling what you’ll find down there, and I’d rather not come looking for you later only to find another corpse.”

     “What about us?” the other engineer asked.

     Cade unslung his rifle and held it out. The other man took the firearm hesitantly, as if it might burn at the touch.

     “I’ve never…”

     “Just point and shoot,” Caid said. “And keep a tight hold.”

     The engineer held the weapon awkwardly, the military ‘ware an ill fit for him.

     “Tell your friend to find my shotgun. You're both smart boys, I'm sure you can figure out how it works." Alleyne turned to the woman. "What’s your name again?”

     “Emlee.”

     “Alright, Emlee. Lead the way.”

     Emlee led Alleyne, Cade, and Reeve to an elevator that barely fit the four of them. They rode in silence as the metal box sunk deeper into Nei’s World. Minutes passed. When the lift finally slowed its descent and came to a stop, miles below the surface, it dropped them off at another winding stretch of corridor indistinguishable from the one they wound through to get to the control room. Only this time, they enjoyed ample lighting and operational doors.

     Unlike last time, the disconcerting quiet that stalked them down the cold corridors above was nowhere to be found. Just beneath the buzz of machinery was the unmistakable sound of biomonsters on the prowl.

     “Hold up.” Alleyne tugged her vibroknives free. “Cade, arm the lady.”

     Her student unholstered his handgun, and removed his spare clips. He handed the bundle over to the engineer.

     “Just—“

     “Point and shoot.” Emlee took the weapon. She dropped the clips into one of the zippered pockets of her gray Division coveralls. “I heard you the first time."

     Cade unhooked two wedge-shaped devices from his belt. They snapped open into a pair of V-shaped slicers and locked with a snick. Alleyne once again took point, letting Emlee direct her. Cade and Reeve took up the rear.

     It didn’t take them long to round a corner and clash with another batch of biomonsters. The new clutch of creatures were a different variant than the blade-armed bulks Reeve dispatched back in the control room. Half their height, these aberrances were a muted pink pulsating sack of flesh situated atop a pair of hooked legs. Vein-blue tendrils tumbled from a cloacal opening where their legs met the misshapen sphere of their top halves.

     Fortunately, the new breed proved easier to beat than their taller cousins, falling after just a few quick blows. The four pushed on.

     Several additional short encounters later, they found a hangar-sized space twice as tall as the control room. Cables of varying thickness snaked along the ground, weaving between workstations and connecting to a towering cylinder.  The enormous tube ran from floor to ceiling, ringed by three circular metal tracks that spun and rose with mathematical precision. Rhomboidal mechanisms swiveled along each track. Inside the tube, something massive stirred, but they could only catch glimpses through the steamed glass.

     Reeve wandered past the others, staring up at the apparatus with wonder.

     "Alleyne," they said, concern apparent even through their synthetic voice. "This is—"

     A hiss of steam interrupted Reeve as the cylinder swung open. The four of them peered into the column of mist. Alleyne and Cade both raised their weapons.

     As if on cue, a colossal arm lashed out—chitinous, corded muscle that ended at three slate-back talons, clawing at the outside of the tube for leverage.

     "Go fuckin' figure." Alleyne said, deadpan.

[quickfics]

Fantasy Star - Part Four

Once the six of them finished dragging the bodies of the biomonsters into one corner—an altogether unpleasant task that left them all slick with the creature’s viscous excretions—the engineers resumed their work on the control room while Alleyne, Cade, and Reeve gathered around an offline workstation.

     “Don’t get me wrong,” Alleyne said, “we appreciate the save. Really. But that was some pretty impressive timing on your part. I’m not a big believer in cosmic coincidences. What’s your story?”

     “I’m afraid it would require a rather substantial amount of time to detail that,” Reeve's masked face voiced, eyes tracking between the two Peacekeepers.

     “Then give me the short version.”

     “Wait, wait.” Cade turned to his instructor. “You're okay with this? How do we know we can trust him?"

     “Them.” Reeve extended an arm, holding Cade's handgun out to him butt-first. The young Peacekeeper took the weapon and slid it back in its holster.

     “I don’t.” Alleyne shrugged. “But you know what? He one-man army’d those biomonsters and didn’t put any bullets in us, so he’s earned some credit as far as I’m concerned.”

     “They.”

     “What?” Alleyne looked up at her mechanical rescuer. He stood a full head above her.

     “Your gender pronouns don’t suit me. I would prefer not to be limited by humanity’s incessant need to reduce everything to binaries. I am neither male nor female.”

     “Guess that’s true,” she admitted. “You don’t have tits.”

     “Nor a vagina or penis.”

     “Good to know.”

     “I’m an android.”

     “Fair point," Alleyne laughed. "Back to the original question, though. You're way more advanced than any robotics tech I've ever seen. Where'd you even come from?”

     “Yes, much was lost." Reeve briefly looked away. "I suppose to answer your question succinctly, I should offer not a where, but a when. Your records indicate an awareness of what you refer to as a ‘precursor race.’ You might say that I am one of their artifacts.”

     “You’re telling me you’re a two-thousand-year-old robot—“

     “Android.”

     “Android, sorry. A two-thousand-year-old android from our lost predecessors, and you’ve been doing…” Alleyne held a hand palm-up. “What, exactly, all this time?”

     “Resting in a low-power state, primarily. I awakened periodically to check on the development of your culture, waiting for a window to properly reintegrate myself into society.”

     “That’s some intense patience.”

     “Yes.”

     The statement hung between the three of them like an unwanted guest.

     "So is all that waiting when you learned to shoot like that?" Alleyne jerked a thumb over her shoulder, toward the pile of dead monsters.

     "No. I have no formal combat training. I simply did the math."

     "No shit." Alleyne arched an eyebrow. "Go figure. Anyway, you were saying?"

     “Approximately five years ago, I awoke to find your culture beginning what you refer to as the Revival Initiative," Reeve continued. "The maintenance of geo-restorative technology is, let's say, a line of work I am uniquely qualified for, so I remained operational to learn more about the project.”

     “And that brought you here?" Cade asked.

     “Once the Restoration Division's installations were up and running, I noticed peculiarities in the data flow," Reeve said matter-of-factly. "Specifically, the deliberate alteration of terraformalogical algorithms. When this particular facility went dark, I came to investigate.”

     “That explains the coincidental timing." Alleyne tugged at her coat sleeve. "Did you find anything?”

     “Unfortunately, I arrived shortly after you.”

     “Back to square one, then.” Cade folded his arms over his chest.

     “Not necessarily." Reeve picked up a piece of debris, turning it over in his silvery fingers. "I believe this facility's logs will prove most useful, provided your engineers are able to get it back online. I should probably lend them a hand.”

     “No need,” one of the engineers walked over to them. It was the woman Alleyne first spoke to when they found the control room. “We just restored Alpha’s archives.”

     She activated the terminal behind Alleyne. The two Peacekeepers and the android turned to face the monitor, watching as the woman sifted through files with the casual ease of UI familiarity.

     "Okay, here we go. Looks like the last user login was from Doctor Zyr.”

     Biographical data spread across the screen, showing a man in his early forties. Light-skinned, with a blonde sweep of hair that cut across his forehead. Even in the still image, there was an undeniable intensity to his gaze.

     “You know him?” Alleyne asked.

     “Yeah, Demeran Zyr. He was one of the genetech specialists working on the eco-modeler."

     "That sounds convenient," Alleyne said dryly.

     "I can see why. It looks like Doctor Zyr rewrote significant portions of the eco-modeler code and locked out administrative access." The engineer looked over her shoulder at Alleyne. "It’s worth noting that he was not among the bodies we found."

     "So he could still be alive?" Cade asked with a tinge of disbelief.

     "It's a distinct possibility," she said. "Hard to know for sure, of course."

     Alleyne leaned in toward the screen, staring at the portrait it displayed.

     "Just what the fuck are you up to, Zyr?"

[quickfics]

Fantasy Star - Part Three

Recommended listening music: “Infinite Ammo” by Le Castle Vania

It wasn’t long before they found a body.

     As Alleyne led them through the winding corridors of Geo-Revival Facility Alpha, following the the map uploaded to her phone, Cade took up the rear, assault rifle sweeping left and right, mounted flashlight momentarily chasing away the gloom gathered in the corridor’s corners. At a three-way junction, the group turned right, but Cade’s light splashed over something on the left that caught his eye. He trained his rifle on it and approached slowly. At first he thought it was a pile of discarded clothes—as little sense as that made. Then he saw the streak of crimson running up the wall. More trailing away down the hall. No, not crumpled clothes at all, but rather the corpse of a middle-aged engineer in company coveralls.

     Alleyne was suddenly at his shoulder. She laid a hand on the barrel of his rifle until he lowered the weapon. The Peacekeepers’ three contracted wards crowded behind them.

     “Lutz’s eternal soul…That’s Mirasvedi,” said one.

     Naphtali knelt beside the corpse. Lacerations lined the body, deep wounds savagely marking its chest, arms, and face, like it had been hacked by a machete repeatedly.

     “More monsters, huh?” Cade eyed Alleyne.

     “Seems so,” she said. “Come on. Let’s keep moving.”

     The group put the body behind them and continued down the corridor. Emergency power cast a dim blue light along the seam where the ceiling met the walls, but beyond the subdued glow nothing was operational. Every door they came across needed to be pried open or manually overridden. It took them hours to navigate the labyrinthine facility and finally find the control room. Along the way, the dead engineer became the first of several similarly slashed-up bodies.

     “Can you get it running?” Alleyne asked the engineer nearest to her.

     “I have no idea.” The other woman rubbed her eyes. “I guess we’ll see.”

     The three Restoration Division employees set to work. Alleyne and her student edgily paced the perimeter of the control room. Hours dragged by while the engineers pulled apart wall panels and sorted through arm-thick bundles of cabling and wires. They set up a portable workstation in one corner of the room, hooking the mobile terminal to different connection ports to no avail.

     Alleyne was on the verge of telling them to pack up and prepare to leave when the room lit up around them. Computer monitors flickered to life, and the steady thrum of machinery filled the unsettling silence that had haunted them down the halls.

     “The resurrector is resurrected,” said one of the engineers.

     Then he collapsed to the ground in two halves, his body bisected from groin to skull. Blood and innards spilled out.

     Standing in his place was the stuff of nightmares—a misshapen mass of talons and tumorous muscle that stood six feet tall. There was no symmetry to the creature beyond legs that stood on a pair of two-pronged claws. One arm ended in a bone-like protrusion shaped like a scythe. The other was a bulbous lump of dangling tendrils. If it had anything resembling sense organs, Alleyne couldn’t find them.

     She raised her shotgun, but the biomonster moved impossibly fast. Its scythe-arm lashed out and slapped the firearm from her grip. She didn’t see where it landed. Didn’t look. Instead, she snatched both vibroknives from her thigh holsters and started circling the creature. It uttered a wet, throaty growl at her.

     “Alleyne…”

     A quick glance to Cade showed her eight additional biomonsters ambling toward them. They were surrounded. Her student started firing, rifle swiveling from one target to the next as the expended casings clinked on the floor around him. The creatures seemed unaffected. Magazine emptied, Cade dropped the rifle and whipped out his sidearm. One of the biomonsters was atop him before he could get a shot off, and the gun slid across the floor as he struggled with the beast. Alleyne leaped toward them, vibroknives whirring imperceptibly.

     She almost buried the blades in her student, the biomonster suddenly gone. She saw it crash to the ground several feet away. Followed the trajectory to a robed figure, metallic hands gleaming in the light, one holding Cade's misplaced pistol. It marched up to the biomonster and put two rounds in the ovoid lump that was the creature's non-scythed arm. Mucous-slimed flesh deflated like a pierced balloon, and the monster stopped moving.

     But the robed figure didn't. It spun around and fired another quick succession of shots in three different directions, and three more biomonsters went down in a heap. A fifth managed to get close enough to take a swipe, but the cloaked newcomer rolled under the blow, tangled its legs with the biomonster's, and pulled the creature to the ground. A single shot went off at point blank. Something wet splashed on the floor.

     Back on its feet, the robed figure tracked three more biomonsters with inhuman precision and economy of motion. The handgun yapped—once, twice, a third time—and all three slumped over. The shrouded stranger calmly stalked toward the last remaining biomonster, handgun trained on it, and squeezed the trigger. Nothing happened. The gun clicked, the slide locked back.

     The robed figure peered at the firearm quizzically. As it did, the biomonster brought its scythed arm down on it. Without looking, it reached up, caught the blade, and effortlessly snapped it in half. Then it buried the shard it held through the creature's chest, pushing until the abomination was pinned it to the a wall. Once the creature stopped writhing, it released the makeshift weapon and made its way toward Alleyne and Cade.

     As it neared, it pulled its hood back, revealing an approximation of a human face that more closely resembled a porcelain doll's. It looked male, maybe aged thirty, but definitely artificial.

     "Hello," it said through an unmoving mouth. "I'm Reeve."

[quickfics]

Fantasy Star - Part Two

The transport rocked violently as it crawled across the wasteland toward its destination. Six wheels gripped the dead earth, but did nothing to soften the jolts from rocks jutting out of the ground. The snub-nosed vehicle powered over each protrusion with single-minded purpose. Inside, each bone-jarring bump flung Alleyne forward into her crash webbing. Beside her, Cade Annexia sat hunched forward, elbow on his knees, head hung between them.

     “Do they have to run over every rock in the Waste?” her student muttered.

     Across from them, three of the Restoration Division’s engineers sat strapped in a row, apparently unfazed by the armored transport’s riotous pace.

     “We’re about fifteen out,” the driver shouted over her shoulder from the control deck.

     Cade settled back into his seat and tightened his crash webbing, looking very much like the inversion of his instructor. Him, pale with short-cropped fair hair and possibly on the verge of puking his guts out. Her, carob-skinned with a tumbleweed of tightly coiled hair offset by razored sides and stoic verging on bored.

     “So when are you going to tell me what the mission is?” He pitched his voice over the rumble and roar of the transport.

     Alleyne gave her student sidelong glance.

     “What’s it matter?”

     “It’d be nice to know what I’m walking into.”

     “Peacekeepers put out fires, Cade. Does it matter what’s burning? Don’t worry about what’s ahead and you’ll be ready for anything.”

     “Still don’t know what that means,” he yelled.

     Alleyne flicked her gaze away from him and tugged at her coat sleeve.

     Sudden impact sent the transport’s ass sliding sideways. The driver did her best to compensate, but before she could fight against the drift another thunderous blow sent the vehicle spinning off the ground. It tumbled side over side until skidding to a stop on its top, the occupants hanging from the floor, suspended by their crash webbing.

     Cade caught sight of a flash of silver, then Alleyne fell to the ground, landing hard on her left shoulder. Her vibroknife clattered across the upturned ceiling. Another collision flipped the transport back on its feet and sent Alleyne crashing into Cade. She pulled herself off him, clutching at the buckle of his crash webbing and clicking it loose.

     “Looks like this is our stop,” she coughed, and stumbled toward the driver. “Pop the hatch.”

     The rear loading door flopped open and kicked up a cloud of sand and dirt. Alleyne made her way toward the opening, retrieving her vibroknife along the way. She pried a shotgun and automatic rifle from their wall mounts, tossing the latter to Cade.

     “I’ll take point. You herd our sheep, follow my lead.”

     Cade snatched the firearm out of the air and thumbed off the safety. Alleyne stormed out of the transport and into the orange-brown haze. He watched her silhouette pivot left to right in approved tactical fashion. The three engineers looked to Cade, their previous calm shattered. He gestured them onward with his rifle, then followed after them.

     Outside, he found Alleyne gone. He motioned the engineers toward the front of the vehicle. The dust was just beginning to settle when he heard Alleyne’s shotgun detonate, the muffled crump of its discharge sounding three times rapidly. He raced ahead.

     And found himself staring up at a seven-foot tall mantis. At least, that’s what it most resembled. Scythe-armed and green and chitinous, just. Bigger. Much, much bigger. Under it, Alleyne jammed fresh shells into the shotgun’s loading port, cocked the weapon with one arm, sighted, and unleashed another volley as she backed away.

     “Entrance is just over that dune,” she shouted and pointed left, back turned. “Move, move, move!”

     The engineers took off running. Cade and Alleyne bolted after them. The five crested the dune and descended toward a silver square nestled in the sand. Raced to the sealed door of the underground facility

     “Wait, where’s the driver?” one of the engineers cried.

     Alleyne turned back toward the crashed transport just in time to see the driver, several yards back, split horizontally as a massive scythed arm cut through her. A gout of blood clotted the sand leading up to them. The top half of her torso tumbled to Cade’s feet.

     One of the engineers frantically palmed a keycard against the door’s access terminal. The two sides flew open and the five of them spilled in. Alleyne was back on her feet as the doors slid shut. She turned and looked down at Cade.

     “The Division’s got something of a monster problem.” She held out her hand.

     Cade took it and hauled himself upright.

     “You think?”

[quickfics]

Fantasy Star - Part One

“History, I’m afraid, really does have a way of repeating itself.”

     As expected, the director was an older man, though he didn’t show it. His bronze skin was still smooth, his frame lean. Only the light dusting of gray in his black hair and the almost unnoticeable lines trailing out from green eyes flecked with yellow betrayed his age. That and the undeniable exhaustion that showed in the way he carried himself, though it seemed less about the ravages of time and more about some unspoken weight he carried.

     “As the church tells it, our gods rescued us from a dying world and brought us here.”

     “I grew up on Nei’s World same as you, Director.” Alleyne Brenwir shifted uncomfortably in the worn leather chair she occupied across from the director’s room-consuming desk. The tiny office was already crowded by the bulks of bookshelves along every wall. His desk stole what little floorspace was left. Only a few inches separated the back of Alleyne’s chair from the five shelves of assorted texts piled high behind her. “Heard all the same stories.”

     “Right, right. Of course. As you can well imagine, I’m not really one for religion, Miss Brenwir. But a lifetime in academia has taught me to see the faint traceries of truth hidden in myths and legends. There’s also the empirical evidence—the precursor artifacts we’ve dug up and dedicated an entire branch of archaeology to studying. Suffice to say, I don’t think the Relocation Theory is an unfounded one. It seems reasonable to believe we left a dying planet and came to this one.”

     “I didn’t sign up for a class, Director.” Alleyne brushed imaginary dust from her coat sleeve. “Why don’t you just tell me what this has to do with the Peacekeepers.”

     The director plucked the thick-framed glasses from his face and flung them on a pile of papers scattered across his desk. He stroked his sizable mustache as if searching for his next words, then gave up on them entirely, instead pulling open a desk drawer. He fished out a terminal pad, and after a flurry of finger movement, slid it over to Alleyne.

     “Press play.”

     She picked up the tablet and tapped play. Watched a video no more than seven seconds long repeat itself on loop. The camera moved down some indistinct industrial site, then tipped violently ninety degrees. Flash of talons and thick, membranous musculature, then static.

     “The fuck is this?” She asked.

     “We’ve been calling them biomonsters. Not particularly scientific, I admit, but we haven’t had the opportunity to properly classify them. Beats referring to them as Unknown Biological Variable X509.”

     “Fair enough. So is this why you called us in? To axe some experiment gone horribly awry?”

     “I wish that were the case. Unfortunately, it’s a bit more complicated than that. Our planet is dying, Miss Brenwir.”

     “Tell me something I don’t know.”

     “Very well. The Revival Initiative isn’t working. We built five installations across Nei’s World, each designed to facilitate a different aspect of terraformalogical restoration. And while it’s managed to slow the decay, unanticipated side effects have emerged.”

     “You mean this thing?” Alleyne held up the tablet.

     “And more like it. Make no mistake, Miss Brenwir, these installations are our last hope. We don’t have the resources to try again. Our only option is to maintain them as best we can. I contacted the Peacekeepers because I need you to escort a team of engineers into the nearest facility and keep them safe while they figure out what the hell’s causing this mess.”

     “This won’t be cheap.” She tossed the tablet back on the director’s desk.

     “Yes, well. Fortunately we’re prepared to spend meseta like it’s going out of fashion.”

[quickfics]

Unleashed

Continuing from Discovery...

Thalia Veil was sure she was out of her goddamned mind. After the anomaly yanked Ensign Liang out of existence, she should’ve deployed a warning buoy and ordered the helmsman to put as many parsecs between the Gone But Not Forgotten and their discovery as possible in one jump. But space, contrary to sort of adventure sims that inspired people to join the Directorate in the first place, was largely a vast emptiness filled with waiting. Stumbling across anything in the void that wasn’t dust or debris demanded attention.

     So instead, she had the lower cargo bay sealed off while she went to get suited up. Azra, naturally, objected, and insisted that she go in the captain’s place. Directorate protocols were pretty clear about keeping commanding officers out of harm’s way, but Thalia wasn’t about to send a surrogate to risk the same fate as Liang.

     In the airlock, the Gone But Not Forgotten’s captain clicked her EV suit’s helmet into place and locked the collar. Beside her, the similarly suited Lieutenants Herrera and Cruickshank snapped out the stocks of their bolt throwers and checked their charges. Azra Demir stood against the inner airlock door, arms folded over her chest.

     “This is a bad idea.”

     “Duly noted.” Thalia clipped her scanner’s retrieval cord to her suit harness. “Again.”

     “I just want it on record.”

     Thalia cued her augs into the Gone But Not Forgotten’s PA system.

     “Attention crew, this is your captain. I’m about to do something incredibly stupid that XO objects to. So if this all goes tits up, let the record show that she told me so.”

     “Very mature.”

     Thalia shrugged. “We’re explorers, Azra. I came out here to stare into the unknown. Time to start looking.”

     Azra checked Thalia’s suit locks one last time, shared a long look with her, then rolled her eyes. She thumbed the inner airlock door open and stepped out, standing just outside while it slid closed and sealed. The hiss of depressurization crowded Thalia’s ears, and an orange hazard cherry threw fiery light across the walls, signaling the bay’s exposure to the vacuum of space. Once the hissing stopped, a series of thunks took its place as the outer door began to cycle open. Thalia unholstered her scanner as it slid into the wall.

     Blackness met them, like the inky darkness between stars had somehow leaked into the cargo bay and coated it in non-light. Thalia started forward, but Herrera held up a fist and marched ahead. He crossed the airlock’s threshold and vanished.

     Herrera, what do you see? Thalia subvocalized.

     No response.

     She looked over to Cruickshank. As she did, screaming erupted over their open comms channel. A burst of light flared to life in the center of the cargo bay, faded.

     “Close the door,” Thalia ordered. “Lock it down. Now.”

     The outer airlock spun ponderously out from the wall. Just before it could close, an arm leapt out of the darkness and caught hold, jamming it. The appendage roiled like smoke, and with visible effort began to pry the door back open.

     Cruickshank leveled his weapon. Thalia backed into the inner door.

     “Azra…”

[quickfics]

Ain’t No Easy Way

Continuing from Handshake...

Yvette backhanded the empty coffee bulb, sending it spinning through the air. It bounced off the bulkhead, then magnetized to the adjacent wall, standing ninety degrees in the wrong direction as if tacked there by magic. Several other cups and scattered ‘ware on the table shook with the blow, wobbling precipitously, but stayed upright courtesy of magnetic grip.

     “This is bullshit,” she shouted. “Better we blast the ship to bits. Solves both our goddamned problems. We prevent our competitors from snatching the cargo, and we avoid letting that goddamned robot rip us apart like it did the crew.”

     “Not an option. Trust me, Yvette, I wish it were.” Matthew Kinneas laid both hands palm-down on the table and closed his eyes for the span of several heartbeats. “Would I prefer to take a short spacewalk, slap some charges on the hull of the Malleable Truth, sail back a safe distance, and watch it burn? Absolutely. But we have very specific orders, and none of us—none of us—will survive the other side of an inquiry if we slag this ship. That machine icing us now is just a faster trip to the same fate that waits for us on Mars if we destroy the derelict. We have a job to do, and the only way we’re walking out of this mission alive is if we do it. You agreed to the same risk waivers as we did when we signed at the dotted line.”

     “Remind me again which part of that included a clause on homocidally reprogrammed synthoids? I’m pretty sure we’ve wandered pretty fucking far from the agreed-upon risk factors, Matt.”

     “It doesn’t matter,” Parminder cut in. She eyed Matt and Yvette alike, then glanced to Cassie and Taye. “Matt’s right. The company isn’t our friend. You know this, Yvette. Whatever the hell’s going on, if we can’t right the ship, then they’re going to liquidate everything. They’ll expect us to torch the derelict, and when we float on home they’ll do the same to us to ensure we didn’t take a peak under the tarp and see what the fuss is all about.”

     “That’s insane.” Yvette knotted her dark fingers in her briar patch of tightly coiled hair. “Why scrap five valuable assets—loyal assets—when we could toast that thing without ever stepping onboard again?”

     “Because it doesn’t matter matter how well we behave like good little HardSec soldiers. The company’s. Not. Our. Friend. Like you said, we’re assets. Expendable assets. They sent us out here because whatever that ship’s carrying is a Big Fucking Deal. The kind that calls for a scorched-earth policy. Total containment. If we don’t bring back what they want, they’ll sooner walk us out the nearest airlock than risk the possibility that we’re in league with the competition. Or kept it for ourselves. And it’ll all get swept into space with a convenient industrial accident report that no one will look at twice.”