Access restricted to Alpha level clearance or greater.
Please re-enter name and password to continue.
Enter name: Vasquez, Paula R.
Password: *********
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Access granted. Welcome, Admiral.
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Load Aegis 7 incident vessels? (Y/N)
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USM Valor
Crew: 26
Custodial: 2
Extension/family: 1
Other: 38
Total: 67
Confirmed KIA: 39
Suspected KIA: 25
MIA: 3
Vessel status: Destroyed
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Next vessel? (Y/N)
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USG Ishimura
Crew: 80
Clerical: 65
Colonial: 307
Custodial: 88
Extension/family: 208
Medical: 69
Security: 89
Service: 145
Technical: 177
Other: 104
Total: 1332
Confirmed KIA: 987
Suspected KIA: 322
MIA: 12
Vessel status: Heavily damaged, recovered
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Next vessel? (Y/N)
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USG Kellion
Crew: 3
Security: 1
Technical: 1
Total: 5
Confirmed KIA: 3
Suspected KIA: 1
MIA: 1
Vessel status: Destroyed
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Next vessel? (Y/N)
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USG [EXPUNGED] (Vessel ID not found)
Crew: 37
[EXPUNGED]: 62
Total: 99
Vessel status: Undamaged
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Additional notes? (Y/N)
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Password: *********
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Verified. Thanks you, Admiral.
Additional Notes? (Y/N)
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Transcript, communication between Commander J. Stalvern and unknown party.
[?]: Report, commander.
J. Stalvern: Operation was a partial success. The Ishimura has been retaken, and is en route to Titan station as we speak.
[?]: I worry about your word choice, commander. Why 'partial'?
J. Stalvern: Unfortunately, the primary target was destroyed. Agent Daniels died while attempting to recover it.
[?]: I've seen other replicas withstand damage from anything short of nuclear fission. How was this one destroyed?
J. Stalvern: As we understand it, one of the survivors dropped a part of Aegis 7 on top of it. A part large enough to destabilize the entire planet.
[?]: Regrettable, though impressive. What became of the survivor?
J. Stalvern: We're not sure yet. Agent Daniels gave us an ID, and we haven't found a body yet.
[?]: Very well. I'll dispatch the O'Bannon to try and salvage what they can from the planet's surface. Maybe we'll get lucky.
J. Stalvern: Of course, sir. Also, we were unable to confirm…seventeen deaths. I've ordered the techs to filter DNA samples from every body we found to try and narrow the list.
[?]: Keep me informed. I trust you to finish clean-up. I'll figure out some way to get a scapegoat for the loss of a planet cracker. Overseer out.
Communication terminated. Repeat? (Y/N)
Thank you, admiral. Logging off…
Admiral Paula Vasquez tried and failed to keep herself composed. Cold sweat formed unbidden on her forehead and palms, and a hand reached past her to pluck the data chip from her personal console.
"Titan station…" the man mused, glancing back to his two cohorts, "Fancy shore leave on the Sprawl?" One of the men smirked. The other continued to watch the door, unmoving. It was an unnecessary precaution, and Vasquez knew no one was coming: the three were already wearing the uniforms of her security detail. Vasquez tried not to think of what had become of them.
The one directly behind Vasquez pressed a finger to his ear.
"We've got it, and then some. Is the backdoor still open?" Vasquez couldn't hear the reply, but the man nodded, satisfied with the answer. He holstered his pistol and turned back to Vasquez. He pulled open one of the drawers of her desk, rummaging through it for a moment before finding the handgun she kept there in the event of an emergency. She cursed herself for not getting it when she'd first gotten a knock at her quarters reporting a 'minor security problem.'
The man turned the pistol over in his hands. It was an antique revolver, chambering cased rounds and boasting an ivory grip. He opened the chamber, plucking out five of the six bullets with gloved fingers before snapping it back shut.
"Here," he extended the pistol by the barrel to Vasquez, "Take it." She hesitated, and understandably so. Both of the other men still had their weapons out and primed. She'd be dead before she could even cock the hammer.
"No trick," the man assured her, giving a slight smile. Vasquez reached cautiously out, reluctantly taking it. The already heavy weapon felt like it weighed a ton. The man nodded, satisfied, and gestured to the man who'd been silently guarding the door since the beginning of the ordeal. He knew what to do, and approached the quaking admiral.
"Look, you can just leave now," Vasquez pleaded as the man knelt to be at eye level with her, "You have the data. I can't go to anyone, either. If they find out I gave you this, I'm as good as dead. I…I can disappear. I'll just-"
"Don't be afraid," the man said, turning her chin with one hand to face him, "We've not going to kill you." His tone wasn't reassuring. Vasquez continued to plead her case, growing more desperate by the second.
"There's more than just that! I can-"
"We have all we need," the man cut her off, "Just look into my eyes, and everything will be fine."
Vasquez's mouth moved, but no words came out. Her mind grew cloudy as she focused on the man's eyes. They were covered by the shadow from his stolen cap, but shone through the darkness nonetheless.
She could hear voices, somehow familiar and alien at the same time. They didn't come from around her, but scratched at her from within her ears. They wanted…something. Something she had, something they lacked. With each passing second, the voices grew in intensity, and Vasquez wanted more than anything to know what they were saying.
Vasquez remembered an old story that her grandmother had once told her. She had been young, afraid of the dark and the ghosts she believed to be lurking in the shadows. Her grandmother had smiled and told her about la lengua del muerte, the language of the dead.
Paulita, why do the spirits frighten you? Have you done anything to anger them?
N-no, Nana, never.
Then you should not fear them. Be respectful, niña. They were once just like you and me.
B-but I hear them! In my dreams, in the dark. I'm scared of them, Nana.
Paulita, that is only how they speak. It is the language of the dead.
Then why is it so scary?
Because you can't understand it, niña. The dead speak to us all the time, but the living do not know their language.
Can we ever understand them, nana? They sound so sad.
No, niña. La lengua del muerte only comes with the end of life. You won't know it for a long time.
"But…then I can hear mamá again?" Vasquez murmured, her eyes unfocused.
"Of course, Paulita," the man smiled warmly, "And abuelo, too."
"Thank you," tears dribbled down Vasquez's cheeks, "I'm so relieved." Lost in her memories, and with a teary smile on her face, Vasquez raised the antique revolver to her head and pulled the trigger.
The news wouldn't hit the networks until the next day at the earliest, but police channels were already calling it a clear-cut suicide. The pilot smiled, listening to the weakly encrypted channels over his headset. Flawless. He extended augmetic digits over the control panel, entering the ship's startup sequence.
The leader felt no pride in the killing, but respected that it had to be done. It would buy them valuable undetected days on their trip, and the element of surprise was integral. They were but four, and their foe was so many more.
The veteran felt satisfied. They had the data they needed, and they had the cover to get them to their destination. Things couldn't have gone more smoothly. Two of his fingers abruptly clenched. He muttered a curse, popping them off his hand and setting to work on them with a set of small tools. A pirate's life had its disadvantages, after all.
The hunter sat away from the others, watching the makeshift coffin across from him. He murmured softly to himself, uttering a Spanish lullaby he had no right knowing. He poured a variety of colored pills into his palm, popping them into his mouth and washing them down with a mouthful taken from a bottle of whiskey.
The leader glanced at the hunter. He was getting worse. He said that he couldn't remember himself properly without the buzz of alcohol and narcotics. The leader believed him. Whatever he had unlocked in his brain had been locked away for a reason.
The leader looked through the information on the data chip, searching beyond what the admiral had shown them. He scrolled through rapidly, but paused as something caught his attention. His eyes widened, and he smiled.
Someone else had made it out alive, someone that EarthGov and the Church wanted with equal fervor. But as far as the leader was concerned, it was someone that had fought his way through hell and survived.
And that, he thought, is someone worth finding.