OSaBC : The Bird of Hermes
Chapter Twelve: Unending Nightmare Vistas
A/N: MUCH credit to EnigmaticOne, who spent hours and hours gathering the RP notes up, typing them in, and cleaning up the grammar. Any mistakes are mine, not his.
"Your orders, as I understand them, were explicitly not to enter the Jeremiah System, correct?"
"Yes, sir. However, once we lost probe contact with Bright I had to move in, or we would never have gotten a pickup call signal. His landing ship didn't have FTL."
"I see. And the ... situation that led to your recovery by Omega Response?"
"Admiral, the entire system was... deranged. I was not aware of the dangers prior to the entire place going crazy."
"And the recording of what happened to the Decca wasn't warning enough?"
-Admiral Branson and Marine Captain Sara Ryder, Redacted Subsections, Reports on the Magog Incident
Kinnix and his team met up with their secondary pilot, Matthew Machado, on the lower Citadel Docks concourse. The general found him at the small food court just off the docks, finishing off some sort of salarian pastries. Next to him, Lieutenant Kale leaned indolently against the nearby wall, scanning his omni-tool.
Machado wiped his mouth neatly and came to attention, as did Kale, when Kinnix approached. "Milord, Kale and I have already run prep checks on the Axecellent – she's good to go."
Kinnix smiled thinly. "Thank you, Matthew. But this won't be that simple, I'm afraid." He turned to Kale, after glancing around to make sure no one was in easy earshot. "Lieutenant, your job is simple: take the Axcellent back to the Kinnix Estates, and if anyone asks I'm on board but not feeling well, food poisoning or something. Once you get back home, liaison with the Head Knight and evacuate my family, the knights, their families and whatever easily portable wealth you can gather quickly."
Kale's expression grew grim. "And then?"
Kinnix clapped him on the shoulder. "If this goes well, I'll message you via TTL using our challenge phrases to rendezvous. If things go... poorly, head to Noveria and contact James Terizor. He's an old friend and he'll... have made preparations if I'm dead."
He turned to Matthew, handing him an access key. "We're traveling in a ship provided by an ally of mine, one with the proper clearances to leave SA space. Need you to check it out, run flight diags, all that stuff."
Matthew took the access key and bowed, and Kinnix turned back to Kale. "One more thing. If things go badly enough that I'm alive and not able to make contact, it probably means I've been captured. I've copied an OSD given to me by the same guy who gave me the ship – follow the instructions on it."
Kale took it gingerly. "And if things go well, milord?"
Kinnix smiled. "Burn it, unread. That's it. I'm supposed to be on leave, so no one should bother the personal pinnace of a Lord of Sol. Be careful."
The group, plus Machado, walked down the broad walkways from the upper docking births down towards the individual dock slips, ignoring the small knots of turians, asari and the occasional salarian flight crews. The scouting ship - a cross between a severely pissed off system patrol boat and an anorexic light frigate - resided exactly at the docking slip provided by Ahern. The ship bore a name even more dubiously than the General's pinnace, "Smashfucker's Delight" stenciled across the bow.
Kinnix stared at this with a raised eyebrow, and glanced at Varian. "...well, that's different." The rest of the group collectively affirmed they didn't know what it meant, and they did not want to know either. The ship's hatch opened and folded down, and they entered quickly, before they were observed.
Matthew checked out the piloting consoles, Georg the engines, and everyone else lugged gear into the somewhat small stowage areas built into the sides of the ship's hull. Once that was complete, Kinnix came forward into the cockpit.
"What are we looking at, here, Matthew?"
Machado's voice was wry as he moved through the haptic panels in front of him. "Mixed bag, milord. The good news: the ship is fast, its using the most recent iterations of the Alliance 'Ultrawave' tech and has a fancy-ass cascade eezo core."
He tapped a panel to one side, bringing up a starmap with a large red circle on it. "It also has a very long FTL range, bolstered by monopole discharge systems and flash capacitors allowing it to build a much higher FTL charge level than normal ships."
Kinnix glanced around. While the inside was a touch spartan (and seemingly older than the engines, judging by the thirty-plus years old furniture) it was clean with ample space. "So what's the bad news?"
Matthew gave a grimace. "The bad news: the ship has only navigational kinetic barriers, about a spit's worth of cheap titanium armor, and absolutely no weapons systems."
Kinnix shrugged. "If we get into a ship-to-ship fight we've already fucked up, Matthew. Let me know when we're good to go."
He turned as Georg approached, the older knight wiping his hands on a rag he'd found somewhere. "Milord, we've got the ship ready to go and everything is loaded. Don't know why the fuck they are there, but there's a trio of the old FCW style heavy hi-ex mortars in the hold. Also, a bunch of the old FCW style comms gear, the shit without a VI. Matt said the ship is fucky but he can fly anything in space or air, so... do we need clearance or something, milord?"
"Something tells me Ahern likes to pack heavy…" Kinnix replied, "...Either that or he forgot them back there. Old bastard probably has this ship as a getaway vessel – a bugout bag of sorts, in case he fucks with something the HLOS don't like. Ahern had an OSD for me to insert when we are ready to go." He paused. "Am I forgetting anything, Georg?"
The knight shrugged. "I think we're good to go. If things go well, the rest of your family should get on the Axecellent and be gone before anyone realizes things aren't jake. If not, well, the rest of the knights will get them to safety or die trying." Georg glanced at the cockpit, where Matthew stared at the displays in a mix of frustration and annoyance.
"Might be a good idea to slot that OSD, milord. Matt is reaching for that baby axe of his."
The flight computer, apparently, was no stock model, some kind of asari product, overlaid with serious AIS encryption and security lock-downs. Kinnix stared at it then chuckled, his voice softer than usual.
"Aye. Well. This is it. Time to break basically every law I can think of in one action, Georg. Wish me luck old friend." The general walked over to the cockpit and held up the OSD. "You have a slot for me to put the OSD in Matt?"
Matthew mumbled several curses under his breath and pointed at a slot directly in the center top of the console panel, labeled 'HERE DUMBASS'.
Kinnix could hear Varian and Georg stifling laughter in the background.
"Or Ahern could be a massive fucking prick about it. Old bastard is probably giggling to himself about this whole thing. Wish he was here so I could punch him out of the ship." The general gently slotted the OSD in.
One moment, then a ping sounded, then Ahern's voice dryly rolled out.
"Alright, if you've slotted this, it means one of two things. One, I'm fucking dead and this is Yonis or Preston or Rachel. In this case, I'm sorry, probably died stupid. Two, I'm alive and all my friends I trust enough to do this are dead or fucked, in which case I don't give a shit who the fuck you are, listen up."
"I need you to go to a specific system in the Traverse and transmit a burst coded signal. The signal is going to a guy named the Shifter. Yonis, if you're listening, stop cursing for a second and fucking listen."
Varian's mirth disappeared, replaced with concern, his features hardening.
"The Shifter is the only fucking asshole on the Citadel that I can be sure isn't in the pocket of the High Lords, or the fucking Thirty, or the goddamned STG or SIX or whoever the fuck is running the frogpond. More importantly...I'm holding on to this... infuriating bullshit as long as I can. I've given this to you because something has happened that made me question my support of the Systems Alliance. Not to the point of stupid. Rachel, if you're listening, yeah, I know you are tied up with those Cerberus clowns somehow. I'm hoping not closely."
Varian groaned, while Kinnix and Georg traded glances, the latter mouthing "Cerberus?" silently.
"No matter who you are, here's the important part. This information is part of a black op conducted by an N7 team I had working for me back in the OP Black Days. I'm not getting into ugly details, but they found some shit that does not make any goddamn sense for the High Lords to have covered up. This file contains records, transactions, payment histories and a pile of other shit of transactions between the High Lords - specifically, the Windsors, the branch of them running Marsgene, and some asshole named Lawson - and the House of Batar. That's the goddamned Batarian Emperor, if you're too drunk to remember."
"The transactions were for slaves - sold to the batarians, and then sold back to the Marsgene people after some kind of modifications or some shit. Wires got crossed and one of these drops was caught in an N7 raid that was supposed to be training only. I had the team pulled back and took their information, but I also made some copies, especially of the autopsies. The next fucking week, the entire N7 team has a 'shuttle accident', the doctor who did the autopsy died in a fuck-me-running 'elevator malfunction', the AISholes who pulled the intel file together were found guilty of high treason and executed by Commissars… and I've been relieved of forward command and am being sent to train people at the ass end of nowhere, Pinnacle Station."
"God, I hope Kyle and Yonis are listening to this. I am not a goddamned biologist. But whatever was done to these slaves had some kind of fucking logo on it - half a human skull on one side, half a bunch of DNA strands or some shit on the other, and the word 'NOVENSILES' along the bottom. I've done my own digging and come up with nothing, but the fact they wiped everyone involved except me means it's nothing good, not that High Lords and the Batarian Imperials doing business is 'good' anyway."
"There's no goddamned reason why they should do this - and the information shows more than a million fucking people have been done this way. Maybe way more. It's hard to say. I'm not a goddamned decryption genius either."
"I can't poke into this myself or get it to the Shifter. For one, the fucker would want something in return and I'm not doing that. I have a six year old daughter and I intend to see her grow up, not killed because Daddy tried to do the right thing and got his head ventilated. Two, I'm too high profile, and I simply don't trust anybody enough to just hand this to. And three, well. I'm not convinced yet. Maybe this is just ... something else. If I put this out, it is going to create a giant shitstorm. I'm saving it for a distraction if I need one...or as a last fuck you if I'm dead. That sounds like weak-ass weasel bullshit even to me so I can already see Rachel laughing at me. Too bad, chica."
"Go to the Alathar system, orbit the fifth planet - the ice one - and pulse a transmit code of '1 00 1' to the exact polar north coordinates of the planet. That is a repeater pickup. You'll get a response - when you do, plug the OSD into any omnitool and use the code phrase 'slugcats and trees' - then bulk transmit the file."
There was a long silence. Georg was the first to break it. "Lord General, with all due respect...this is going to start a goddamned war. I helped raise your boy and I know you can't want to leave him but if you give this shit to some galactic crime lord…"
"And if we just let it happen?" Kinnix angrily snapped. "What then? Whatever the fuck this is. The High Lords have been betraying us all. Every single fucking person in the SA has been betrayed by those we trusted. This involves all of us. I want your suggestions. Because as much as I want to save my son... I don't know if I can trust the Shifter. Even if he can get us out. And get us someplace safe."
"...Can't we just chuck the damned disc into a star or something?" Daniel offered.
"And let whatever atrocity this talks about go unpunished?" Matthew retorted.
Daniel turned, eyebrow arched. "And how exactly are we gonna punish th' fucking High Lords Matt?"
Matthew shrugged. "We won't. If we survive, we will be in hiding for the rest of our lives in a colony."
Georg looked at the floor troubled, stroking his heavy beard. "My suggestion is we go get your boy first, and see what other fucking bullshit we are dealing with, then ... decide on this pile of fuck. Milord."
"The Shifter isn't tied to any government." Kinnix thought out loud. "We can use him... give him a tidbit of the data. Promise him the rest if he gets us out of there. Something. I'm not the one who deals with spy shit. I just kill things and look good on camera. Fuck."
"Not sure the data package can be split." Matthew observed.
"Do we need to split it? Give him the verbal details." Georg proposed. "'Hey yo frog-mob-boss-guy, we got dirt on the Lords of Sol doing slave trading with the Batarian Emperor. Give us a way to survive the mess we're in and it's yours.'"
"It's the Shifter." Daniel objected. "He'll want proof. Anyone would."
Georg glanced at Varian. "What do you know about him, AIS?"
The AIS man paused in thought. "The Shifter is... I hesitate to say a good sort, but he is odd. He's an intergalactic crimelord, but he's very well connected. His gangsters rarely resort to violence – he's mostly into data brokering, smuggling, high-value theft, things like that."
Varian rubbed his chin. "As Ahern pointed out, he is fiercely independent of basically everyone else, he keeps a relatively low profile, and even plays ball with the authorities every now and again. He is also older than dirt in Salarian terms, which might contribute to the oddness. Considering that we really, really need someone's goodwill to hide us after we stick our collective dicks into this…"
"He knows it's from Ahern." Jason Kinnix's massive shoulders hunched as he came to a decision. "Maybe that's enough. And if he won't help, fuck it. I'll go to Aria. I'll go to the turians. I'll go to the goddamn Quarians. We have options. We have other paths."
Georg relaxed slightly hearing this. "Alright. How about we space this thing before those Black Hats we saw heading towards Ahern's office find us here? Matt, this doesn't look like any kind of fucking cockpit layout I've seen before. Can you fly this thing?"
"It's slightly… different, but most of the layout works the same way." The knightly pilot mumbled afterward, "I hope."
"If you can't fly it, I'll do it." Kinnix promised. "I can fly anything. For a short time. Then comes the crashing. But we're in space. How hard can it be to not crash?"
They took their seats, and Matthew punched the start button, intoning, "Arise, oh great Fucker!"
X-BoH-X
As it turned out, the code Ahern provided was some kind of high level bullshit. When Matt called for departure clearance, he was transferred from Citadel Control to the Citadel Security Office, clearing a path of shipping and granting exit priority all the way to the Widow Relay.
The first mass relay jump was smooth as silk, with just under 6k drift. They mostly spent the next day in high speed FTL. The ship's outline was designed to baffle LADAR and FTL-accelerated radar signals, it carried what looked like an old clearance code from Spectre Tela Vasir, and the authorization Ahern gave let the Smashfucker sail right out of the SA's borders.
Kinnix spent his time silently reading through a book, one on close examination to be about farming. Cocoa farming to be exact. Georg gave him a pointed look. "Farming, milord?"
The general shrugged. "I like cocoa, and since I'm likely to be exiled after this stunt..." He gave a rakish grin, and the knight groaned.
When the group reached the last mass relay, there was a fairly sizable blockade - four heavy cruisers, two carriers, and a handful of Commissariat ships. Upon interrogating the ship ID, the wardens presumed them to be the High Lords' investigative team from the High Lords and waved the pinnace through without even a scan.
Matthew silently drew a cross on his chest, while Georg looked incredulous at the sheer stupidity displayed.
The ship entered the Produga system, empty except for one cargo ship near the main FTL lane leading to Jeremiah. It was identified as the Joyous Light, a SA R&D supply vessel. At first it seemed to just be holding station… until the scanners ran over it. The hull was vented to space in several locations, both the engine nacelles were crushed, and the entire bridge looked like it was... torn out.
Literally. With meter-wide rents in the hull resembling the marks Terra Novan snowcats left on turians in the FCW. The ship's VI reported an automated signal. A distress call, from the ship in question.
"Kinnix, I advise we leave this mess alone and make it ASAP to the relay." Matthew immediately responded.
"Take us in." Kinnix instructed. "Slow and low. Quiet as you would be if you were trying to steal Helga Manswell's virginity. Scan her before you answer. I don't trust this."
The approach went silently. Matthew brought the ship in on an oblique, ready to punch out at the slightest hint of a problem. But nothing happened. The ship scanned the wreck more closely, and the crew could see more details. Some kind of discoloration or debris limned most of the rents and tears, like black fuzz.
"I think that's goddamn black nano." Kinnix whispered.
The VI gave an irritated chirp. "No life signs detected. No energy detected. Ship's communication netware and hardware are missing. Do not recommend downloading incoming signal. Mass core is crushed. Significant radiation in the megaSievert range detected aboard the vessel."
"Gentlement, let's just go around this and be about our business. This is not a call we can answer, since we hardly have radioactive isolation gear." Kinnix determined.
"Agreed. Get us the FUCK outta here." Daniel added in support of this proposal.
"...Well that's just fucking lovely, ain't it boys?" Georg rose up. "And here we are in a ship with no goddamned guns. Fuck not answering, I'm going to disconnect the comm cables."
"I will also offline the VI the moment we hit the system." Matthew promised his senior.
The Smashfucker pulled away rapidly, heading for the FTL lane. As it did so, they encountered a SA distress beacon, whose signal had been, somehow ... blocked by the ship.
"To any receiving units, this is Lieutenant James Ilva. Do not approach the Joyous Light! Open fire on it as soon as possible! DO NOT BOARD. DO NOT DOWNLOAD OR OPEN ANY COMMS!"
"You hav -"
The signal cut out in an absolutely horrific sounding scream, then rapid-fire snapping and crunching noises.
Matt shut down the audio, but a pale Daniel had already run for the head and could be heard hurling chunks.
"Jesus, Victor, and Jonah." Georg crossed himself.
Varian blinked slowly. "More speed, please."
Somehow, the only member to disagree was Kinnix. "Can we... push that beacon so that anyone coming here will see it before the ship? I may hate the High Lords. But their pawns aren't the issue."
Matthew shook his head. "Milord, we're outside of laser-link comms range right now. If we get in close enough to do that, the system would automatically accept a laser-link distress connection – even if we rip out the VI, which we can't since we need it to relay jump.
Kinnix sighed and nodded. "Alright, we'll just keep going – " He broke off as Matthew frowned, tapping the sensor panels. "Something wrong?"
"Milord...it looks like there's a small M/AM minefield near the wreck. That's odd."
"Why is it odd, Matthew?"
The pilot gestured at the ship. "I have no clue what in fuck happened over there, but if it had hit even a couple of these mines, it would be a pile of gas right now." He tapped another control, then shook his head. "That...can't be right. It says they're drained."
Varian snorted. "That's a neat trick."
Kinnix frowned. "Can you confirm it?"
Matthew nodded. "Doing so now, milord..." Indeed, the ship's VI reported detecting a set of M/AM mines near the FTL lane. All inert, not disarmed, but drained.
Kiinnix sighed. "Not even going to ask how you drain a M/AM mine. Or how you do it without fucking exploding."
Matthew, familiar with physics, knew the disquieting answer. "Friends, whatever sucked on those mines, were playing around with controlled micro-blackholes. I leave the rest to your fantasy ...and nightmares. Jesus protect us." Anything that could create microblack holes powerful enough to subsume well over a hundred pounds of antimatter, was powerful enough to obliterate planets.
The VI reported the FTL lane was clear, although it detected a graviton wake trail. "If the VI is right, looks like something entered Produga from Jeremiah about...an hour ago, and something else went into Jeremiah five hours before that. Other than that, milord, the FTL lane is calm, showing no traffic, no blueshifts or redshifts."
Kinnix nodded. "Take us in." The FTL trip to Produga did not take more than twenty minutes, coming out into a system with no other shipping detected. The Smashfucker dropped charge in Produga, with plenty of room left to get to Jeremiah and back.
X-BoH-X
The FTL trip to Jeremiah went slower, due to the distance, taking roughly three hours. Everyone had eaten, rested, and were rechecking their gear as the pinnace erupted back into real-space at the edge of the system.
At Matthew's request, Georg began manually shutting down and physically disconnecting the VI. Everyone else took in the vista, as alien and impossible as it was stunning. Ten worlds, each in absolutely perfect circular orbits, eight of the worlds being smoothly featureless perfect spheres of rock and crystal. The star itself was a slowly fading blue-white giant, and the entire stellar plane framed by clouds of gas here and there.
"Pretty." Daniel commented. "Can we get the fuck out now?"
Kinnix shook his head. "Let's see what we're working with here, first. Matthew, scans?"
Predictably, the sensors immediately shat themselves upon beginning scanning. Scans of all the planets came back as 'inconclusive' or 'out of band.' There was spaceship wreckage in several locations, most notably what looked like a heavy battle cruiser, tumbling slowly above the target planet, looking even worse than the Joyous Light.
Still arguably better than the trio of smaller ships in actual orbit around the planet, barely recognizable as such, having been literally crumpled up into balls. Matthew continued his scan, shaking his head. "Can't even ID those poor bastards in orbit, milord. Expanding sweep to outer planets..."
He narrowed his eyes, tapped a viewscreen and brought up an image of the gas giant. "Would you look at that, a poor soul is still alive here." Matthew suddenly said.
A few seconds more resolved the target – an older model Kowloon hauler, registration Impious Delight, with active power sources, trying to hide in the magnetic lee of the single gas giant. The sensor suite showed the ship was moving carefully to ensure the bulk of the gas giant was always between it and Rho-19.
"Purportedly alive." Georg replied suspiciously. "Stupid bastard should have gotten the fuck out."
"Georg, we are going in. What does that say about us?" Varian suggested.
"It says we're stupid as a box of rocks, which I already knew." Georg didn't bat an eye. "What do your fancy sensors say, Matthew?"
"Georg, the scanners are telling us the equivalent of an electric suicide note. That's all we really need to know." The scans were weird, Matthew could tell.
The ship itself was intact, no damage to any systems. The comm net wasn't responding, nor laser links - like someone manually disconnected them. The ship's mass core was shut off, the Delight running from battery and generators, and the external lighting system delivering jury rigged blinking in Morse Code. Someone had fused the hydraulics for all but one of the entry airlocks and carefully attached a trio of live mines to the main docking bay doors.
"Can anyone read Morse code?" The general asked. "Mine's a little rusty."
Varian read it, tapping it out to himself to check.
WHAT-IS-NEXT-LINE
LIFE'S-BUT-A-WALKING-SHADOW
RESPOND
"That's a line from Macbeth." Georg recognized. "The hell?"
"Let's not." Varian had already made up his mind. Matthew nodded. "Sir, I agree with Varian. This has nothing to do with us."
Georg shrugged. "It probably doesn't...but the fact the ship is hiding and looks to be paranoid as fuck about something and is wanting a response code is interesting."
Varian didn't agree. "That sounds like code words, and that thing probably has more guns that us for when we fuck up the response."
"And they strapped mines to their own ship, why? Is that also an inte agentl thing to do?" Georg questioned him.
"Overwhelming paranoia is a trait we tend to share." Varian admitted frankly. "Although in this place, it might be closer to self preservation."
Georg looked to their pilot. "Does it have guns, Matt?"
"From what the scanners tell, no danger to be seen." Machado told him. It was as unarmed as they were. Battle-grade kinetics, but no energy to bring them up with the mass core shut down. And given its position in orbit of the gas giant, it had no way to get into a good firing position for any kind of strap-on weapon like torpedoes.
Georg cast at eye at the scanners again. "...We are definitely faster than that piece of junk, right? Even if it had the core powered up? Matt?"
"Absolutely. This new core is incredible from what I can see."
Daniel turned to their leader. "What's the call, General?"
Kinnix chose to take the gamble. "They could be able to help. Maybe it's AIS. I can bluff them. I think. Does anyone know the next line?"
"A poor player that struts." Georg filled in.
Varian sighed deeply. "I am going to find the alcohol stash in this can. I know you fuckers have one, and I need a drink before I see this shit."
Matthew set the solar collectors to flash on manual control and transmitted the next line from Macbeth. Meanwhile, Varian discovered Georg already drank the beers, but uncovered a case of Terra Novan Auld Reserve Scotch (laid down almost forty years ago).
Varian grabbed one bottle, and put another in his pack, just in case. He then sat down with a single drink, putting a little buffer between him and Rho, as the Impious Delight's pilot responded.
OH-GOD
YOU-HAVE-TO-GET-OUT-SYSTEM-NOT-SAFE
DO-NOT-TRUST-VI
DO-NOT-REPEAT-NOT-FIRE-PROBES-AT-ANY-PLANET
ENTIRE-SYSTEM-IS-A-WEAPONS-PLATFORM
"...Well that's just fucking lovely." Georg spat. "Milord, I am not being paid enough for this level of bullshit. Just putting that out there. And no shit the system isn't safe. Fucking Mindoir peasant could tell you that much."
"Hey, it's a friendly. That's a win in my book." Matthew weakly offered.
"Respond." Kinnix ordered. "'Going to planet to extract asset. Request updated info.' Or something along those lines that sounds smart. God damn it feels like I'm in a spy vid."
Matthew typed accordingly:
IDENTIFY-YOURSELF-AND-REASON-FOR BEING HERE
WE-ARE-UNABLE-TO-LEAVE
REQUIRE-MORE-INFORMATION
The response came after a minute.
SARA-RYDER-HAVE-FRIEND-ON WORLD-WON'T-LEAVE-WITHOUT-HIM
SYSTEM-IS-FUCKED-ANY-SHIP-THAT-FIRES-WEAPONS-OR-PROBES-CRUSHED
VI-WILL-GET-HACKED-WITHIN-500KM-OF-RHO-AND-DUMP-LIFE SUPPORT-TURN-ALL-MECHS-AGAINST-YOU
LOST-CONTACT-WITH FRIEND-WHEN-LAST-SHIPS-SHOWED-UP-AND-SHOT-DOWN-COMMS-PROBE-SCARED-ALMOST-LOST-CONTROL-OF-SHIP
PLEASE-GET-HELP
After a pause, the messages came more rapidly.
OH-GOD-BRIGHT-IS-ON-RADIO
SAID-HE-FOUND-MAIN-BASE-EVERYONE-DEAD-OH-GOD
HE-IS-RUNNING
MY-SHIP-CANNOT-LAND-TOO-BIG-PLEASE-HELP-HIM
"Kinnix, get their location compared to your son. We need to hit the ground ten minutes ago." Varian's previous skepticism had disappeared.
"Ask them where the location is." Kinnix told Matthew. "And tell them we will grab Bright."
Ryder answered quickly. GPS-CALC-FROM-STELLAR-BASELINE-49-POINT-2-NORTH-55-POINT-9-EAST
"Spooling the core." Matthew announced. "Buckle up boys, last stretch will be rough. Ready to run on your word, sir."
Daniel returned from the restroom, having mustered his resolve. "Shit. Let's fucking do this then."
Varian retrieved his scotch, offering it to anyone who wanted it, before it went back in the pack and he strapped down.
The ship flashed an alarm: "VI disconnected. Engage manual pilot mode?"
Matthew growled irritably. "YES, you piece of fish electrics, GIVE ME CONTROL." He tapped the manual interlock… and the panel split, a conventional pilot's wheel popping up… and then a pair of fuzzy dice dropped from the upper bulkhead.
An old fashioned sticky note was taped to them, yellow with age it bore the scrawl: "Ahern you idiot, you didn't take out the fucking missile pack at the bottom. I rewired it to manual controls. Up your fucking game - Yonis."
The ship felt more agile to Matt under direct control than haptic nudges, and the ship approached cautiously. Matt and Kinnix prayed to Saint Brendan and God. Varian, non-religious, began muttering quotes from Dune, particularly the one about fear.
As the Smashfucker passed the fifth planet, the group saw a section of the surface was... bubbling, writhing. The smooth surface rippled suddenly, waves of moving earth expanding outwards, and Daniel swallowed. "Are planets supposed to do...that?"
A second later, the ground split apart in a soundless rush, a million acres of nothingness in a blink, and a titanic eye - glossy black, with a glowing x shaped iris in the middle - erupted into view. The eye moved from right to left and back again… then the planet trembled and the thing thankfully submerged beneath a tide of onrushing dirt and rocks.
A moment later, and the surface was smooth again to the micrometer level, leaving everyone feeling terribly cold. With the VI disconnected they couldn't run scans, perhaps a good thing.
"What. The. ACTUAL FLYING FUCK WAS THAT?!" Daniel shrieked.
The food processing unit whose VI had been still active, suddenly emitted a distorted series of beeps and then detonated. The explosion was not enough to breach the craft's bulkheads, nor even do any damage, but it sprayed scalding hot nutrient paste everywhere.
"...What." Georg blankly shook his head and wiped his armor clean with a rag.
"Nothing." Kinnix tried to insist. "Some sort of security system. Probably designed to elicit fear. Cut the rest of the VIs out."
The Smashfucker's Delight skidded past the ruins of the heavy battlecruiser, which they noticed with horror was now completely covered by thick layers of… something like black fur.
Ahead, the planet's atmosphere was dark and stormy, with greenish lightning tossing from cloud bank to cloud bank and several areas under swirling masses of dark clouds. The ship's passive sensor array reported the pinnace being bombarded with gravitons.
A beam of them swept past then continued onward. Below, near the area indicated by the coordinates, they could see flashes of white and red lights – which was somewhat concerning, since they were still in the highest layers of the atmosphere.
"Gentlemen, we have arrived at our destination. Hell." Matthew intoned.
"I am pretty sure hell froze over about the point the last planet looked at us." Varian replied.
Matthew traversed the storm layers quickly and cleanly, managing to pull off an absolutely astounding last second dodge, when he shifted from space to atmospheric mode. The ship came in low to the ground.
Daniel summarized the group's impression. "Fucking hell…"
The entire surface was choked with rubble, cyclopean ruins of black basalt and sickly looking green-silvery metals… and rotting corpses.
Milions. Billions.
Twisted into nightmare shapes, with plasticine skin and distorted shapes, endless seas of carrion pierced by black bones and odd metallic protrusions. What plant life there was could only be described as twisted, with split trunks composed of slowly writhing vines and 'leaves' that had legs, leaving the main body to nibble at the corpses.
There was a road crudely burned through the mess and ahead another gigantic flash of something red and white.
"...General, I know what you're gonna say," Daniel went on, "but rescuing your boy in the middle of all this? JESUS-"
Acting more on instinct than any real data, Matthew tore the ship to the side, as a thundering blast of hellish energy erupted from below. Sprays of lava and melted rock flew into the air, along with the tiny pinpricks of corpses and bits of planet. Another detonation burst the right, but the lava spew went high and Matthew took the ship in an arc below, getting clear.
"Neither he nor his father have looked at this place for a while, I don't think." Varian answered, holding onto the nearest bulkhead grimly.
A third detonation and spars of blackened basalt jutted skywards for nearly a kilometer, but the pilot's reflexes were just too fast. The Smashfucker's Delight skidded in midair, then tumbled back into course, as the pilot evaded the nearest rocks by bare meters.
"If I could, I would pull us out of here. We came this far. Who would we be if we ran away?" Kinnix asked softly.
Georg snorted. "Alive?"
Daniel clung to the small table next to his seat, staring at the viewport. After a moment he turned and snatched the bottle from Varian, drinking with intent to down it all.
The road had widened and slew to the right, where the horrid vegetation had split, revealing a plascrete building. Two dozen automated turrets - mass accelerator and plasma both - fired rapidly at a mass of things in distance.
Some were grotesque, squat horrors, undulating bags of red flesh and black wool, with too many mouths and surrounded by curved horns rotating through the air. Black ichor spilled from mouths and wounds alike, the ground bubbling and forming grasping tentacles or toothy maws to assail their targets.
But these things were nothing to the nightmares fighting them. A horde of corpses rising into tides, shaped in mindless and random collections of legs, hooves, eyes, mouths and bits of spines. Green-tinted flesh flowed and morphed into ever-shifting and ever more nightmarish shapes, leaping with blinding speed.
Rotting flesh burst in gaseous clouds and the corrupted beings grasped what resembled swords of bone white material. The two horrific aliens bands butchered each other, taking no notice of the human ship. Above them a gyrating black spiked thing with mouths and red lights lighting it from within wound itself around a gargantuan pile of rotting flesh taking the shape of some kind of snake...wolf...something.
"Of course... it was going too well." Kinnix whispered. "Is that where my son is?"
The base itself looked like a way-station, a slagged mess. Tucked into the partially collapsed far walls was a single humanoid figure in old RRU armor - flight one Devastator or maybe Calamity. One of the black wool things was a melted pile of parts scattered around him, and he staring upwards, then frantically motioning for the pinnace to land AWAY from the fight.
"This guy's got the right idea. Anywhere far from the fight, but close enough to maybe pick him up? Good chance that's that Bright guy Sara mentioned." Daniel surmised.
Matthew brought the shuttle down neatly to the furthest flat area not covered in corpses, letting it sit in hover mode. The general hefted his Tsunami and walked to the door.
The man ran towards the pinnace, moving with a limp. Kinnix saw his left cybernetic leg had some damage, but the guy kept looking over his shoulder at the nightmare fight, then stopped about ten meters away, and raised his voice, deep and strong and edged with near panic.
"...Please tell me you're here to get me the fuck out of here."