Several days passed since the ill-fated trip to the decommissioned processing center on Devastis. The last of the repairs had been made to the Ghost of Irk. Rem's pre-flight checks were green across the board, the vessel spaceworthy again. Something everyone was relieved to be aware of and leave Devastis behind. Quite literally anywhere else in the universe at that point would have been more favorable after the experiences had by those tasked with finding the VDF stealth shuttle and the other concerning discoveries it led to.
Corr, bed-ridden with his mending femur, spent much of his time pouring over the massive encyclopedia of historia Vult had handed him. A man whose off-duty time was often spent learning about the Irken's military history had taken a turn down a hole that went deeper and deeper with each turn of the page. Things were not as they seemed. All the intel lifted from Processing Center Zero-Seven and the disturbing discoveries there...what was known made no sense...and these ramblings of what sounded like crazy men that lost their mind and made things up was starting to sound more and more sane.
The evidence was cataloged and the artifacts preserved and stored aboard the ship to be called upon when needed. There was a lot to go over and it would take considerable time. Vard, with his hands full with several tasks, such as getting the SiR Unit operational again, had another seemingly overwhelming one: Accessing the strange PAK that had the data drive in it. He struggled with it mentally...if it was appropriate or ethical to do so. Maybe his hunch was wrong and it was empty, just like the others...maybe this was this person's form of peace. Their pain and suffering had ended finally, why "wake" them from this afterlife?
The device sat on his workbench for several days as he kept his mind busy elsewhere. The SiR Unit was up and running again. The strange format the data disks of yesteryear were successfully converted, much of it experience in learning how to decrypt Turb'Zharic's files, using similar techniques to transfer them without loss of information or corruption.
Some of them he wish he did after bearing witness to their contents first-hand.
Kazak walked over to Vard's workbench, leaning against the wall. "You holding up all right?" He looked over at the PAK briefly but decided not to say anything just yet. "What we just went through back there?" He let himself slide down to the floor to sit. "Really, really never want to go back there...I'd actually want to torch the place."
Vard spun around, snapping a salute at attention out of surprise. "Lieutenant, Sir...you snuck up on me...I...I'm fine, Sir...comparatively...I'm more concerned about Aero, Sir." He admitted.
"Relax, Vard, I'd rather talk frankly rather than superior and subordinate." He paused, thinking of what he could ask, "How long have you been unhooked, any real differences? Is it actually more beneficial?" He had a slew of questions being free from the brains for once. "Any effect on your loyalty?"
Vard blinked at the taller Lieutenant as his saluting hand slowly came to rest at his side, his posture relaxed.
"I...don't think we should openly be discussing this...Sir...respectfully." He cleared his throat awkwardly, thinking quick how to answer him without being so direct. "I have been...aware of Project Silent Night and its findings since our departure from Vort, Sir. My loyalty is securely beneath that of my commanding officers and my service to the Empire. There is no question, Sir."
"The latter is where I find myself wondering...after what I saw, what I'm hearing from Corr...being left for dead after Praxxus and then being demoted for saving lives because I used alien technology to escape and was late. But...like you said, maybe we shouldn't be openly talking about this." He stopped, once more looking up to his workbench, to the PAK sitting there. "You try looking into that yet? See if there is anybody in there or if it's empty?" To him, that definitely has to be a fate worse than death, trapped in a PAK without a body...truly insanity.
The short Tech Specialist glanced at the foreboding device on his workbench.
"I...have been putting it off, truthfully, Sir...It is all still speculative at this point...I could be wrong and it is empty like the others, but I am not sure it is...ethical or right for me to find out to begin with. Whatever happened there...happened to whoever resides in there...maybe that is their peace granted after whatever they suffered there. Who am I to force them from that peace?"
"From what we saw in there?" Kazak sighed, "I don't know if it's peace...or a torture chamber really. Remember the blood stains on the floor? I'm pretty sure this was forced on them. Maybe this was someone who fought the Empire way back, but was lower ranking enough to be spared. Maybe a civilian forced into this unwillingly. Whatever the case...if that is occupied...whoever's in there might help us unravel all of this. I don't even know what's true and what's a boldfaced lie anymore." He paused, thinking on if that were him. "If I was a soldier, and I didn't end up like those in that pit, I'd want a chance to get back at the bastards who put me in there."
While he couldn't refute Kazak's points about having a potentially vital source of intelligence from a literal ghost of the past trapped in an electronic prison assuming it was occupied, the questions of it was right and should they disturb their rest still swirled.
"I don't disagree with you, Sir...I just need to be certain of what I am doing and not cause further duress to its...occupant." The countless gears inside his technologically-astute mind began to turn. "We would need to ensure it is properly powered. The correct voltage, a reliable, easy to replenish power source...but it needs to be mobile, otherwise it will be constantly tethered to a wall outlet. If I can figure out the encoding and work around the architecture...I should, in theory, be able to alter and read programming like...that…"
He realized he more or less outed himself into assisting Turb with unplugging most of the squad from the Control Brains. Even if Kazak was among them, he still needed to be more careful depending on who was watching and listening.
"...should we attempt this, Dr. Zharic is needed. If anyone present would know how to do this, it would be him."
"Not to mention if it's occupied, we'd want to consider giving it some armor." He was thinking of the potential of their ship being raided again...and this PAK and the drive didn't look as formidable as what they wore now. "But, yes, we will need the doctor. I'm confident you both can do it."
That's when Aero walked over, throwing down a small holographic projector and turned it on, a schematic of the Vortian's armors, something that allowed the Vortians to do field level repairs and assessments of various components, both on the base layer suit and the upper layer of armor. Something they could probably make use of.
Vard's attention was immediately garnered at the little floating, rotating diagnostics hologram. A very intensive, inside-and-out look at the advanced suits the pair of VDF operatives were wearing...but he was missing a very key component. The diagnostic station itself.
His impression bordered on marvel as his gaze turned to the taller female with a grin.
"Where'd you get this? This...I can...oh, Irk, I can…" the possibilities were already overriding his words as his mind raced.
"Found it near this weird chair on their shuttle with outstretched arms," Aero answered, "Looks like it has these little...slots that connect with the bits on their suit."
"Like...some sort of diagnostic machine?"
"Probably. Vardy would know!"
The small Irken already bounded to his workbench where the recovered plates from their suits were stacked and itemized. Snatching a forearm gauntlet off of one of the piles, he flipped it over, looking at the surface. Clean, uninterrupted seams where shaped plating met its likeness...and slots to match the pattern on the holographic device.
"...I-If this is what I think it is..." He realized. "...I can translate this...encode...I can…"
"Whoa, whoa, slow down," Aero attempted, her mind taken off of the horrific visions on Devastis with the familiarity of her highly-intelligent comrade. "...don't fry your own circuits over this." She snickered
Vard reached up, snatching her wrist insistently.
"Show me. Where's this weird-looking chair at?"
Kazak also stood and followed Aero back to the shuttle, on board was the chair she was talking about off to one side of the interior. Looks like it was wired in after the fact, definitely not standard issue. Nearby was a computer station hooked into it.
Excitedly, he brushed past his taller comrades towards the station. He had never seen anything like it. Clearly Vortian by design but even some of the elements were beyond his scope of immediate knowledge. This truly was cutting-edge...and likely highly-classified even within their own ranks due to his strategic value and likely prohibitive cost...and he had two suits of the armor and, if his theory was correct, the means to access them without bludgeoning his way through hacking and slicing.
Quickly, he flipped the gauntlet over, placing it over the matching slot on one of the arm rests until it latched in. Right away, a series of holographic windows projected from emitters, revealing performance data, baseline capabilities, abnormal spikes to be rectified or addressed through fine-tuning of power output and management. Energy shielding...on an individual level?! Only starships had shielding! How was that possible?!
"I..I..I need the rest of the suit. The undersuit. I have all the plates, I just need one of them."
"Uh..well...they'll be naked if we do that, Vard." Aero reminded him uneasily.
"I don't care," he wheeled around, nearly obsessed with this. "...give me all the components...I can reverse-engineer this...for us."
Kazak went down to the brig, several minutes later, he emerged with Jur and Hesa aiming her plasma revolver at his head. As Aero and Vard looked at him with complete shock, he only shrugged. "He refused to take it off." His head turned to Jur, "Sit."
"So..you lived through the traps?" Jur hesitantly complied, sitting down, the system beginning to access his suit data. "How'd you do it?"
Kazak's head gestured to Vard, "What can I say? He's a certified genius."
"Magic." Aero added cheekily. She was just glad he didn't continue to abstain from cooperating.
Vard was lost in his own little world as he plugged various devices into the diagnostics computer from his own kit. Translators, encoders, recoders...displaying everything in a better-understandable language. Deft fingers furiously tapped away as screen after screen maximized, minimized, or relocated at his whims. Impressive, truly impressive.
"Slow down there, you'll outrun the computer." Aero teased, watching in amazement. "...so what is this thing? A super-space toilet or what?"
"It's a diagnostics station for their suits," Vard said without looking away from the screen. "Anytime they need a repair, a tweak to the programming, or an update to firmware, they will use these to do it. It's just a big, advanced terminal that interfaces with the unique systems of the suit...likely to make it more difficult to replicate for someone like me...good effort…"
He emphasized with a final stroke of the keys, downloading the data externally for his review later.
"...but not good enough." The short-statured Sergeant turned around with a proud smirk on his face. "...thank you for your assistance. You saved me a lot of time."
"Maybe he should get two desserts too now?" Aero offered. "The Commander gave the General lady one for helping us."
Once Vard hit the release on the cradle, Jur stood up, going over to open a container on the shuttle before Hesa gave him a shove. "Hey, relax."
"I'm not letting you go for a grenade, you dolt."
"It's not the grenade crate. That's over there," he gestured to another crate closer to the door of the shuttle as he went back to open the one he went for, revealing Vortian food rations. He withdrew a snack bar and opened it up. Looking back at Hesa who just shot him a look. "What? It's our food."
"Ours now, buddy. Possession is nine tenths of the law. Back to the brig." Jur put up his other hand and moved, at least she let him keep the snack bar. Kazak followed, backpedaling first to look at Vard.
"I hope you can use whatever you got out of that. I want one of what he got."
"More than you can possibly imagine, Sir. It will just take time...and sugar. A lot of sugar. Long hours ahead." He smiled. "...and I think it isn't too forthcoming of me to claim part of that stash. I think I've earned it...Sir."
"Go for it." He then turned around and followed Hesa back to the brig. Jur looked over his shoulder at Kazak.
"So, you were with those that found our ship?"
'Yeah."
"You see anything else in there?" Silence from Kazak, "You saw that pit of Irken bones, didn't you?"
"I'd rather not talk about it." Kazak snapped back at him, in a tone that said he would much rather drop the topic.
"Understandable…" Jur let it rest as they went back to the brig and went back into the cell. Kazak looked to Turb, crouching down in front of the bars.
"You ever work on an early PAK?"
"Earlier PAK?"
"Yeah, angular, heavier, maybe contained a storage device on top of it that increased the weight."
"Can't say I've ever seen one. Why are you asking?"
He gestured to the other two, "They were poking around in that facility same as us when we went looking for their ship. They didn't open one of the storage rooms, we did. We found these older PAKs in there. Really...really doesn't make things add up."
"Did you find them in some archeological dig site?"
"No, that building was only a few centuries old."
"Few...centuries?" Turb blinked, "That's...your people have been in space for thousands of years, haven't they?"
"That's what we were told. Now? I'm really having my doubts." Kazak stopped to take a breath, "Vard might come grab you for that. We're dealing with one that's quite possibly occupied. Someone left trapped in one of those things for a few hundred years. It's...disturbing."
"Well, thank you for the warning, Lieutenant." With that, Kazak stood and left, giving Haxx an appreciative nod for letting him borrow one of the prisoners.
The ship's intercom crackled to life in the brig, Vard's voice coming through.
"Uhh...Lieutenant? If you're still down there, can you bring Dr. Zharic up?"
"Can do," he replied, both of them standing up as he led the doctor out of the brig and back up to Vard's workbench. The Vortian's eyes looked over the PAK on the workbench, then compared it to the one on Vard's back.
"They've certainly changed over the years." He looked to Vard, "So, what do you need?"
"I...want to be certain I don't damage this thing...or corrupt it. If someone's in there…" He explained, drawing his gaze tight with uncertainty as he looked to the older Vortian doctor. "I don't want to hurt them."
Turb nodded, looking over the PAK in question. "My parents had older technology like this laying around for demonstration purposes...studied some of it while I was working on my degrees." He looked to the technologically inclined Irken, "I believe I can help you make sure this is stable and functional before we try anything."
"I-I just know that I need a reliable power source that can be quickly changed. Turning it on and off repeatedly could have negative consequences...I can rig it up to take power cells like our weapons...as far as how long the charge will last, I don't know." He deduced, his hands already taking up tools and components as he set to work. "...everything about all of this...Devastis...Processing Station Zero-Seven...this...it doesn't make any sense. We all want to know just what is going on and why we were sent there. I...I feel like there's a reason other than finding their shuttle. I don't believe in coincidence. Only probability."
Turb looked at the PAK and rubbed his chin. "I may be able to help you build something like we have on those armors, though to a lower power rating. I think that should be enough for what you need to study this. All I need to see is the schematic. Then...I think with our brains combined, we should be able to create something to suit your needs."
Vard pulled up the cross-section and schematic layout of the PAK. In the simplest terms, it truly was just a very old piece of electrical equipment built with the express purpose of organic interface...and somehow translating those organic brain waves produced by synapses electronically firing into binary data. Not exactly the most difficult process in the current day and age, but on such dated hardware, he wasn't even sure if it was fully functional still.
Nevertheless, the two brilliant minds combined their knowledge and expertise to produce an efficient, portable power source to secure to the PAK itself over the course of several hours. The voltage ran low enough to not drop to dangerous levels, but remained efficient off of the charge of a power cell. If Turb's calculations were correct, a single power cell should last several weeks before requiring a change. As a backup, the ability to plug it into the ship's electrical grid remained as an emergency back-up should the power cell drain or fail faster than anticipated.
Wiping his tired eyes with the back of his hand, Vard finished making the final couplings between the PAK and their portable power delivery system. All that remained was to engage it and turn it on. They double and triple checked their calculations. It was virtually impossible to overload the PAK's architecture. They wouldn't fry it. They couldn't. Everything was grounded and safety was paramount.
Vard exhaled shakily as he hesitated.
"I...I don't know if we should do this." He reluctantly admitted. "Or if it should be done without any of my superiors present...but that may be too much for whoever is in there...I...just don't know."
"It may be best to ask your Commander...or the Captain if he is capable of moving." Turb knew about what happened to his leg thanks to some idle chatter from the others. "This is...I understand how difficult this is. We're effectively waking the dead doing this." He rubbed his chin, "If I were in your position, I would be reluctant to as well...and yet, there's this morbid curiosity that wants to know who is in there and what they know…"
About that time, none other than Commander Vult appeared from the lift down to the hangar, making his rounds around the ship. He noticed Turb was assisting Vard at his workbench...and a distinct lack of an armed presence keeping an eye on him. A mental note to address later. Compliant and willing or not, prisoners needed to be under armed guard at all times, especially outside of their cell.
"Everything alright down here, Sergeant?" He addressed the short man about-facing to attention. "Noticed you weren't at evening mess."
"Yes, Sir, everything is green down here...apologies, Sir...I...uh...was busy."
Vult gave a nod to Turb. "I assume so if our guest is assisting you…" He looked past the pair to the bench, seeing none other than the unique, old PAK recovered from Devastis. The one claimed by Vard to possibly having a consciousness installed upon it….and the attached power delivery system.
Vard noticed his superior's attention, glancing over his shoulder before straightening up again. "Sir, I haven't accessed it yet...-I-" He attempted to explain.
"Relax, Vard...just seeing what you're working on...and I assume that is what you intend to do?"
"Yes, Sir...between everything else that's happened, especially on Devastis...we would be doing ourselves a disservice to not investigate. There is a reason why this one is unique and why it was in that room."
"I agree with that assessment...so long as you feel comfortable doing so, proceed." Vult offered.
"I...will with your observation and oversight, Commander."
"Proceed, Sergeant." He motioned, standing with his hands clasped behind his back. "...when you do turn it on...what should we expect?"
"Honestly, Sir...I don't know." He truthfully admitted as he snapped the power cell into its receiver, locking it in place before hovering over the power switch. "There is only a vox emitter installed at this point in time...if my theory proves true...whoever is stored inside should be able to speak."
Taking a deep breath, the Tech Specialist swallowed his uncertainty and threw the switch. The PAK's LEDs visible fluttered to life before remaining on, the cooling fans within spooling up as built-up heat was blown out of vents.
Several moments of silence soon followed. Vult watched with curiosity as the PAK came online, unsure of what to expect.
"Is it functional?"
"Wha- Who said ?!" A female voice demanded, making the three men standing in reality look at one another with a mix of shock and amazement.
Vard leaned closer to the microphone. "H-hello?"
"Where I? Who you? Dark. Nothing! Tell you!" Her voice snarled in defiance.
"Miss?" Vult attempted, still trying to figure out the strange, stilted manner of speech she was using. He understood her, but it was...different from what he and any other Irken shared currently.
"Why dark? Where am? Kill Krad, I will!"
"Krad?" Turb spoke next, "Who is this Krad?"
Kazak walked back in, "The General who was in charge of that processing center we were in. Real sick and twisted fuck if I ever saw one."
"Picking up our words, Kazak?"
"Maybe. What's going on?"
"She lives," Turb motioned to the PAK.
"...So Vard and the Vortian doctor managed to get it online...incredible."
"Krad pay! Krad die! Kill everyone!"
Vard shook his head. "I...she's confused...distraught...I don't know how to calm her down...she probably thinks we're the same people who captured her...and did this to her."
"Well I certainly didn't have any part in that. We didn't even know you Irkens existed when this happened." Turb responded then spoke several words in Vortian to himself.
"Miss?" Kazak went over, "Krad's dead. Everyone from back then is. We're not the people who did whatever it was to you."
Silence.
"Not Empire? Who?"
Vult looked to his subordinates, both of whom were not sure on how to respond. They were Empire...likely the result of the success of their predecessors...and the defeat of whatever movement she was a part of.
"We are Empire, but not the same. We are Irken."
An amused huff from the vox.
"Of course. What else be? Only Irken."
Vult silently gestured to not correct her for the time being. Far too much had already happened since then. No sense in overloading her with information. This was more up Corr's alley in trying to place himself in the right mindset of when this person last drew breath and what was happening. So he thought.
"You Empire? Not Empire? Confused."
"Yes." Vult answered. "We are not the same. We are not the ones that hurt you. We are not the ones that did this to you. We are not General Krad."
"Not Krad? Where Krad? Must pay!"
"General Krad is dead. For a very long time."
"Dead? Long time? How? When?"
"Few hundred years," Kazak added, "And we don't know." Turb, meanwhile, decided to stay quiet. He figured it was best he didn't speak and add yet more information that aliens existed. Better to observe for the moment.
Vult leaned over to Vard, keeping his voice low so the PAK couldn't hear. "Can you do something about her stilted speech? Make it easier for us to understand what she is saying?"
"I can try, Sir...it's a different dialect of Irken. Obviously older and translators are having an issue with it. Let me try something…" He offered, opening up the programmed suite to the power source he plugged it into. It allowed him to access the systems of the PAK. A simple update to the language codec should fix it.
"Few hundred years? That's impossible! I saw him yesterday! Why is it dark? Why can't I see anything? I can't feel anything! Where am I?! Your sensory depravation torture isn't going to get me to talk! Ikevodo MUTO!"
Vard winced as she came in clearly, especially with the final curse. She was clearly defiant and strong-willed, whoever she was in her past life.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, relax." Kazak tried to take another stab. "We literally pulled your PAK out of a storage room days ago and turned it back on. Where you were has been abandoned for centuries."
Another long silence.
"...they did it...they actually did it…" She spoke, forlorn and horrified. "I didn't believe them. What they said was crazy...converting someone into data...they did that...to me? Is that why...oh no…" The realization seemed to set in.
"We are trying to help," Vult assured. "My team found...you several days ago, as the Lieutenant said. Maybe you can shed light on what happened there."
"...they tried to break me...make me talk...give up my comrades...our hideouts...our caches...contacts...anything to gut the resistance. I never broke. They couldn't break me. You won't either!"
"I'm not your enemy." Vult continued, his tone less forceful and more sympathetic. "I will explain anything I can within my power, but you need to help meet us halfway. We are talking to someone that was alive centuries ago and a lot of things do not make sense to us. You can help us, yes?"
"...I can try. You really aren't General Krad's men? This isn't PC Zero-Seven?"
"It isn't. You are on our secure, safe military vessel. Only my team and I are present." Vult carefully chose his words to not overshare with Turb present. This was all surreal, talking to a literal ghost of the past.
Vard looked to the Commander. "Unless you have any objections, Sir...now may be a good time to...introduce her to Captain Corr...circumstances given."
"Good idea, Sergeant." Vult nodded, turning his attention back to the illuminated PAK. "Can we get your name? I'm Commander Vult. Special Operations Group."
"...Calla. Husbandless wife...childless mother...all because of Krad."
"My condolences, Calla…" Vult attempted, earning a scoff much to his dismay.
"False placations...the Empire truly is alive and well still."
"You certainly aren't for a lack of tenacity and will." Vult complimented.
"Krad and his thugs thought the same thing...I suppose that's why I'm here now...talking to you."
"I know this is...a lot to take in, but I do have someone more knowledgeable of when you were last...alive on Devastis-"
"Where?"
"Devastis, the Imperial world we found this device on in Processing Center Zero-Seven."
"...You mean Devos? My home?"
"Yes, Devos," Vult realized...another one of the Empire's likely changes to cover up a growing question of just what the Irk was really happening or happened to their people in the past.
Kazak nodded to Turb. The Vortian picking up the PAK and bringing it to the medbay with the others. He gently set the device down near Corr, who was still busy browsing through everything he could about General Krad, his subordinates, and the various processing centers of Devastis. 07 wasn't the only one as Kazak found in the documents 01 through 06 also existed...but those buildings were long since converted into either storage facilities or motorpools. Why keep this one in particular? Kazak cleared his throat. "Cap, I hope you're ready to meet someone who's a few centuries old and knew Krad and the others rather personally. This is Calla."
Corr's confusion from his unwanted residence in the infirmary for at least the next several weeks turned to disbelief as he laid eyes on the unusual PAK secued on Devastis. The one Vard spoke of potentially being occupied by someone. He and Turb had been busy with the framing and attachments on it likely powering it and regulating its consumption. Before he could find the words to speak, the PAK's vox broke the quiet.
"Captain...Corr, was it?"
"Uhh...yes, Ma'am. I'm Captain Corr."
"I was told you may know more about what on Devos is happening right now."
"Dev-...potentially, Ma'am."
"Drop the formalities. I'm not in your fascist army."
Corr's brow furrowed in confusion looking to Vult.
"Resistance fighter." He clarified quietly, earning a nod of understanding from Corr.
"Right...apologies, Calla. Didn't mean to offend."
"I'm sure you didn't...look...I can't see anything. It's dark. I can hear. I can't touch anything. I have no sense of taste...they said I'm...inside one of these enslavement devices Krad was stroking his ego over and pushing on the masses who passed through his "facilities"."
"The PAK, yes," Kazak spoke from the back. "We found a storage room full of empty units much like the one he used on you." He paused, withdrawing the nametape he had in his pocket from the Lieutenant's uniform he saw in that pit. "Calla, are you familiar at all with a Lieutenant Mhorv? Was he an Imperial Army officer who joined you? He didn't have one of those PAKs on, did he?" He was curious to find out what she knew about these dead soldiers in that pit of bones...find some answers. The question has been burning in his mind since he found those items.
"Whatever they're called, doesn't matter...Krad and other Imperial brass found an easier way to control the entire population of Devos without having a soldier on every street corner or a gun to everyone's head at every waking moment. Instead, he had a bunch of scientists develop...whatever this is that I'm in...the first models were literally an implanted killswitch. Say the wrong thing? Go in the wrong area? Bam, fall over dead as it fried your nervous system remotely. This thing I'm in...I didn't believe it possible...all the wild, science-fiction talk of turning the wearer's brain activity into binary programming...converting the electrical synapse firing...beyond my understanding. Either way...they were...stealing consciousnesses in these."
A moment of silence.
"...I still remember the screaming."
Corr lightly cleared his throat as he mentally digested all of this.
"...and Lieutenant Mhorv?" He politely reminded her.
"Right...Mhorv. My inside contact to PC-Zero-Seven."
"Inside contact for what?"
"Like I'll tell you."
"When we first turned it on, she was screaming about killing Krad...I assume its related." Vult interjected much to Calla's dismay.
"...yeah...I was in deep trying to get closer to General Krad...put an end to this madness...and get revenge for what he did to me, my people, and Devos."
Kazak needed to sit, the news seemed to hit him rather hard now that he's been unplugged. "First generation PAK…and before that just an implanted killswitch." He sighed, shaking his head. "I'd probably end up like Mhorv if I lived back in her day. Died from...whatever poison gas they used in those chambers and then unceremoniously tossed aside."
Calla grew silent at that news. Even if what they said was true about being centuries after the fact and everyone long expired of old age...hearing of Mhorv's fate did not help matters any.
"...I remember them taking him away...I'm sure he knew what was coming...my only regret is I got burned before I could make my move on that bastrado."
"General Krad?" Corr queried, starting to jot notes down at this point.
"Yeah...the "hero" of Devos and forefather of the Grand Design...all to appease the laps of Irks' political elite."
That...didn't sound like the epilogue of the General Krad most of the Empire knew as it were. He was a great man. A brilliant strategist that unified Devastis and laid the groundwork for the largest military expansion of the Empire to-date.
"Political elite?" Kazak asked, "You mean the Tallest?"
"The...Tallest? No, that's stupid. The festering, milquetoast remains of the Republic...a bureaucratic nightmare so inefficient it couldn't accomplish anything...and they had the gall to demand the right to govern Devos thousands of light-years away! They couldn't govern a classroom full of children!"
Kazak blinked, a Republic. "I've heard that the Empire came from one of those more…despotic governments in Irk's past. Emperors that were phased out in favor of those tallest being in the right to rule. An Emperor Xen and all that stuff way back in the ancient days." He looked at Corr, "Right? We were taught all that weren't we? I don't remember learning anything about any sort of republic or any sort of voting system."
"...we haven't had anything like that since prior taking to the stars and colonizing Devos. Irk had a unified government for a very long time. A Republic. Devos was colonized, away from the internal rot and corruption of that system that developed over the years. Irk's leadership caste grew envious of our prosperity...started sending more and more soldiers under the guise of "training exercises" and "frontier defense"...only they stayed and garrisons swelled...then they started doing tyrannical stuff. Curfews, quartering of soldiers against our will, indentured servitude to military projects...and taxes...don't even get me started on taxes…"
"Taxes?" Corr queried, confused by the term.
"Yeah, y'know...taxes! Personal earnings, property taken by the government for government use...like sending more ikevodo troops!"
"I...wait...So the Irken...Republic did this? Not an Empire? How did the Empire come about then? Krad wasn't the first Emperor, was he? When did this shift happen?" Kazak was confused as more and more of what he was taught seemed to unravel before him.
"I don't know!" Calla's vox-caster huffed with incredulously. "If I did, we wouldn't be having this conversation, now would we?! All I know is Devos sought independence as the Republic's reach and influence tightened. Some of us, being naturally-born Devites and first generation of calling Devos our home didn't like that. We protested. We demanded independence. Irk could do whatever it wanted in its impotence for all we cared, so long as it left us be and allowed us to be free. They didn't like that...so they sent General Krad and the entire 3rd Shock Corps to be "reassigned" to Devos for "defensive purposes"...defense from what? Space dust? The occasional passing comet? Kept feeding us garbage of potential extraterrestrial threats after watching one too many holo-vids."
"...That sounds...nothing like what we were taught…" The Lieutenant shook his head, "What in the blazes…" He looked right to Corr, "Now I'm certain we've been lied to all our lives."
Corr held a hand up to Kazak to calm down before he had an episode himself. Now was the time for collecting intelligence. They could piece it all together later.
"What happened to you, Calla? How did you end up in the PAK?"
"Like I said...I was working my way closer to Krad. Some Devites outright turned traitor and JOINED up with the 3rd Shock Corps. Cowards! All of them! They curled in Krad's lap rather than resist and bite back! Tensions grew the longer Krad and his forces were occupying Devos."
"Stationed, you mean." Corr corrected.
"No...occupation. They weren't wanted there to begin with and we didn't need 'em. We had our own planetary defense force. The colony was well-protected from internal strife and potential foreign invaders...with the exception of an entire Corps moving in overnight and setting up shop. The PDF was told to disband and were no longer needed. Those that wished to continue their military service could enlist with the Republic's forces." Calla defended, huffing. Just talking about it all made her non-existent blood boil again. "Tensions grew the longer they occupied...a few minor incidents led to heavy-handed retaliation. A protest? Shoot them. A demonstration outside the capitol building? Shoot them. Talking critically of the newly organized Empire in public or anonymously?"
"Shoot them?" Corr couldn't resist.
"Funny...no...those that weren't making themselves active targets were rounded up...imprisoned…"reeducated". Can't rule over a colony if you kill everyone, can you? If you can't control them, force them to your ways. That didn't work, THEN you kill them and move on. That was how they operated and why they needed to be stopped...clearly...he wasn't."
"So your local defense force kept their guns and fought back? Hit and fade attacks?" Kazak asked. "But I'm guessing Krad just used that as an excuse to round up more civilians, didn't he?"
"The ones with any fortitude did...like I said, most of them tucked antenna and lapped up the propaganda of joining Krad's army. I wasn't a soldier at first. I never thought I'd become one. My husband was. One of the brave few that stood for what Devos meant and why it mattered...he paid for that with his blood...my sons followed him...and they joined their father...I had nothing left to lose...I made my stand...and nobody expects the grieving widow to capable of slitting throats and blowing up munitions stores…"
"Blowing up plasma batteries? No, that would've…" He thought back to Krad's pistol he found in his office. "Let me guess, back then everyone was using either gunpowder based weaponry or mass accelerated stuff? At least that's what we could gather from what we found in Krad's office. Some carbine and a pistol."
"Mass drivers were the norm. The old-timers hung onto their propellant-based stuff out of sentiment. The protective equipment the Imperials brought with them made them obsolete though. Just good for hunting or hopefully finding an unarmored officer. Explosive ordnance, on the other hand, typically solid chemical compounds. Fragmentation. High Explosive. Incendiary. That sort...and did you say plasma? Like...what stars are made out of? What science-fiction series have you been reading?"
"Plasma-based energy weapons are the current level of man-portable ballistics technology," Corr informed much to her dismay. "Armor has developed alongside to counteract it as best it could...but after multiple rounds, it doesn't matter. Even if super-dense alloy diffuses it on contact, the heat still has to go somewhere."
"Cooking people alive...classy." She sarcastically commented.
He blinked and looked at the others "I think we should help her. She can hear us, we can hear her. Maybe there's a way we can give her some of her other senses back?"
Vard, still amazed this was happening to begin with, finally spoke up.
"It may take me some time...but I might be able to integrate data transfer...if we want to show her something, upload it, and she can access the file or footage. Anything is possible with enough time and resources."
"The Commander...Vult...said the Empire lives. You plan on pulling me from one nightmare and bringing me into another? No thank you. I'd rather you shut me down and leave me be were that the case."
"What if we got you a new body?" Vult queried much to everyone's shock.
"A new body? A physical, organic body? Explain."
"PAK technology has advanced tremendously since this was done to you...Corr can share the details and explain in full, but the way our people...repopulates now is strictly controlled. We are not naturally-born...our flesh cloned...and a PAK is encoded with the information necessary to "spark" life within the cloned flesh."
"That sounds absolutely terrible and the very thing I sought to oppose."
"Yeah, well we didn't have a say in the matter. Trillions of Irken do not and are completely oblivious to what you know. We know a lot...and we knew nothing of what you spoke of."
"Doesn't surprise me. What government teaches their people to overthrow it? This body thing...you really think you could...bring me back?"
"...it'd take a lot of careful consideration and planning...but it is not an impossibility." Vult reasoned, realizing how insane it sounded to everyone present and the consequences it likely meant for anyone involved. "Not to get your hopes up."
"My entire existence is restricted to a unwillingly-worn backpack...any alternative is favorable at this point."
"I know if I was her, I'd want to get a chance to kick in the skull of whoever put me in there." Kazak smirked, "Let me study the matter. Maybe we can find some way to pull it off down the line. Though...I want to know something. Did Imperial Internal Affairs exist in your day? Or some sort of similar secret police type deal?"
Calla gave another humorless laugh.
"Internal Affairs...you mean Krad's thugs who kicked doors in and drug people off to the processing centers? Granted, they were used more against any of the General's people who didn't agree with his countless crimes and atrocities. Unfortunately, they were usually used to root out my comrades that were working covers from the inside…I was so close...the closest we had ever been...Personnel Resources Manager Deyna...I was two offices away from him...two! I stomached that man's presence for years, trying to earn his trust...let his guard down...disgusted even thinking about it…"
Vult put two and two together, especially in the wake of Irk.
"You had...relations with him...didn't you?"
"I didn't enjoy it if that's what you're asking...but he was onto me. He knew for a long time...and played all of us for fools. The day Mhorv was drug down the hall to Deactivation, I knew I wasn't far behind...I only wish I was granted that peace and not TRAPPED IN HERE!"
Kazak took a breath and stood up. "I'm going to look into this...I never thought I say it, but we're going to have to break into a processing center and steal a body." He didn't stop to think what this 'relations' was that Vult said, he just left the room. Everyone else seemed quiet, seemingly distressed. That's when Turb leaned in to whisper to Vult.
"Commander Qoris and Chief Orpos were worried about the same fate befalling our people...I think this might go beyond just us Vortians now, Commander."
"A likely outcome, I'm lead to believe at this," He responded equally before looking to Corr. "I won't...burden you with this since you're on the mend, Captain...but I'm not going to just turn Calla off when we don't need her. That isn't right. Would you mind keeping her company?"
Corr looked to the device next to his bed before looking back to his commanding officer after considering it.
"I wouldn't mind at all, Sir...we both have much to discuss...more than she can imagine."
"More than YOU can imagine, jackboot...special forces, huh? How many dissidents have you killed in their own homes?"
"Only one," Vult truthfully spoke. "...and it has been an...eye-opening experience to say the least. The Captain will discuss whatever you desire so long as it isn't classified. If there's anything else we can do for you, let us know."
"...thanks...I suppose…" She begrudgingly said with some humility. They did bring her back from a virtual death after all.
With Corr and Calla left to continue talking on history, and confirming with her various bits of information given by Byte that she could give insight on, the rest of the ship went about their business during the lull in the action. The report on Irk already filed. The official record was the movement was dead in the water. The source of the upheaval had been neutralized. By the time IIA on Irk investigated the habitation block, the Administrator's "body" had mysteriously vanished. Vult claimed they personally disposed of it in the nearest sun under the guise of "disposing of traitorous trash proper". The Tallest were pleased with this supposed action. Mission successful, in the books, no questions asked. Thank goodness for that. Devastis was still being compiled with loads and loads of information...much of it not the least bit flattering. It was a tedious task, and the amount of awful information inside was something of a drain.
Vult sat at his desk in his quarters, pouring over the various after-action reports filed by members of his team. Their accounts being taken into consideration, forming a timeline of events and evidence to back it...the worst part about it was the leg of the operation that went into the evil depths of PC-Zero-Seven. The files he read of so callously speaking of mass execution on an industrial scale as if it were nothing more than another day at the office troubled him greatly. Even he didn't feel such a lack of empathy or hatred for his enemies on Vort. Now, he didn't even know who was his enemy or if they actually had any to begin with.
Another sleepless night of putting everything together and getting it ready for review before the Tallest began demanding it with his presence. This was one report, however, he would be hand-delivering even if not required of him.
The Commander paused with a weary sigh, rubbing his tired eyes with his elbows propped on the desk. Devastis. The quartet of Vortian prisoners calling his vessel home indefinitely that should be dead. The secrets uncovered while hunting the saboteurs. Calla. It was all dizzying...he didn't know what was real and what wasn't. What to believe. Who could be trusted? One of the few times since ID1 he honestly wished he died that day rather than be stuck in the mess he's in now.
His door opened, Hesa slipping inside and locking the door behind her. The hall was empty, nobody saw her. She walked over to Vult, planting a kiss on his cheek as she wrapped his arms around him. "You really look like you could use the rest...and the company."
Mildly surprised by her intrusion, he looked up behind him as she held him. His natural hand rose to her shoulder with a sigh. "Yeah...it's light's out, you're supposed to be in your bunk." He lightly scolded in jest. "Don't want firewatch to catch you, do you?"
"I think I'm a bit more careful about getting caught ever since I was captured the first time." She smirked, "Don't worry...nobody caught me...only ones up are Tuu and Rha. Everyone else is resting up." She gently turned Vult's head to give him another kiss, this time on the lips, "It's just you and me."
"Fair enough," he mused playfully before the second kiss. "...just like I said though...subtle and discreet. Not everyone is keen on this...ignoring the fraternization, of course."
"I know...sort of wishing they'd see through it. I'd be dead if it were any other team than yours that Grimm sent." She lightly bumped her head against his. "Want to pick up where we left off?"
Vult used his foot to slowly turn the chair around to face her, his hands taking hold of her arms to guide her to sit in his lap, against him. "You would have been dead had no one came, either. As...fond as I've grown of the old man, I don't think he would have shown you mercy had we not intervened once the time came that you outlived your usefulness...he was using the research to develop a superweapon for us all." He concluded, wrapping his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder.
She sighed and nodded, "Yeah...I think I was going to be the first intended victim to see if it worked…really owe you my life." There was a bit of a pause, but then a smile, "I'm glad you came, I really am. You really are something...maybe one day we won't have to hide this either. That'll be a good one." And maybe no more questionable orders one day, especially after what she heard from the others about that facility…
"One can only hope," he offered optimistically, nudging her head with his own gently in an affectionate manner. "...I fear we are a very long way away from that though. One I'm not even sure I'll ever see the end of at the rate things are going. What happened on Irk...the horrors buried under Devastis...Calla...it's...surreal...everything we know is...wrong...just listening to her...it's all lies. Lies built upon lies until the truth is so buried and forgotten it sounds insane to consider."
"Lied to all our lives...but...despite it all, I know there's some things that are true. You saved me, you're free of the brains, I'm here, you're here…" She paused for a few moments, "and I know I love you. At least it's not all bad, we have each other."
"...and I you," he softly responded, squeezing his arms around her. "...to be denied this...everyone deserves this...to feel this...to feel anything. To freely think. To criticize. To innovate. To abstain. To deny. To debate...how can the Tallest and those blindly devoted claim our superiority when we lack so much?"
"Maybe it's because they don't know." That was her thought, "I know before this...I hated the Vortians. I would blindly follow orders...granted, even the doctor grew on me even though he was going to knock me off too...but, maybe they know what's worth fighting for more than we do. I know I already have someone worth fighting for."
"The things we're being exposed to...are what they're fighting to keep...and they will continue, tooth and nail, until the last man and the last round." Vult reasoned chillingly. "Were it not for the Empire's...mass-production of flesh...they'd long overcome the opposition and strike back. Take this fight to Irk. To Devastis...and after what I saw...I'd let them." He gestured to his yet-to-be compiled report strewn on his desk. Several still images had been taken from the data disks Vard recovered and transferred to a readable format. There were no skeletons...only the fresh bodies and the evil men responsible.
"Same...I really don't think I can keep fighting for the Empire either. There has to be something we can do. Some way to end this madness."
Curiously, he leaned, looking into her eyes in close proximity.
"Have you met our new guest? Calla?" Vult queried. "She lived the way we are only beginning to experience from what I'm starting to understand. Captain Corr is going to make better sense of it all for others to digest in the near future...but...she and those close to her fought to preserve that and failed...I fear history may repeat itself."
Hesa shook her head, "Can't say I have...maybe I should. Find out what more of this is like…" She pulled her head back, violet eyes looking into his blue, "Knowing you? I think you can find some way to cripple the Empire so that history doesn't repeat itself."
"I think your opinion may be biased, but you flatter," he smirked. "...but in all seriousness, this team is a hot mess. Everyone that is unplugged with me understands...I have to be mindful of what we say and do to the others...then there's this whole Byte thing. None of this is making any sense or any easier to address...I almost miss the days when I was given a task by a superior and I completed it or die trying. A whole lot simpler than meddling in the matters of deciding the fates of others."
"Maybe...I can help you take your mind off it for a bit?" She motioned towards the bed with her head. All these revelations so close together were definitely confusing...Even she was scratching her head. "Perhaps we can forget all of this for a while...focus on each other."
Vult wasn't dense. He knew what she was slyly implying and, frankly, it was one of the best ideas he had heard all day if he was being perfectly honest. Though, the reality of their situation still remained. Aboard the ship, surrounded by their fellow squadmates in close-quarters. An active patrol...the sort of things that increased the chance for being found out...and there would be no way of explaining their way out of it. The truth would come out about those being unplugged and what was happening.
Even so...after the last several weeks between Irk and Devastis...or Devos or whatever it was originally called...he could use that welcome distraction and warm embrace.
"Take point, Sergeant," He smirked, making to stand up and insist she get to her feet in the process. "I'll cover the rear."
"Oh, I bet you will…"
Time passed, Tuu walking back to his quarters after watching the brig, stopping at Vult's quarters after he heard something. Listening in, it became more apparent, groaning...from two people. Sounded like Vult and Hesa. Were they in pain? No, they would've called Sula. He shrugged and walked on, but he made a mental note of this for later.