Drosya Galaxy: Istras Part 2
Istras sat in shock for a moment. The program worked. Everything she knew about Necto drives was cast into a new light. Her voice shook a little as she spoke.
"Giles, report."
The brief pause that followed as Giles scanned the Monarch. The seconds seemed to stretch for an eternity.
"All enemy ships seem fully operable, but unresponsive ma'am."
She made a mental note to buy a new A.I. with better inflection in its voice.
"Life signs?"
Another pause.
"The three fighter pilots are still alive, we are too far from the mother ship to get a good read."
She gripped the throttle as she eased the ship into motion.
"Fire up all scanners and record the results. People will pay good money for a total scan of this beauty."
Istras marveled at the vessel as they slowly passed. She had seen spaceports that were smaller. Yet, its size was equally matched by its craftsmanship. It looked like someone had taken a long, smooth river rock and carved it into the likeness of a ship. Then something struck Istras:
"Giles, are there any surface scars? Asteroid impact marks, laser burns, that kind of thing?"
The holo display flickered to life as it displayed a small scale model of the Monarch's Fortune.
"No ma'am. The vessel appears as though it has just left port for the first time."
She pondered for a moment. A legendary pirate vessel with no battle scars. That was very odd. Either this was an impostor, or it had some way of ending a fight before it started. The holo display flickered, and indicated that the scan was complete. A wicked grin crept across the woman’s face as she reached forward to flick the switch that armed the laser turrets. Giles’ monotone voice crackled overhead:
"Ma'am, even if we expend all our munitions, we would never be able to inflict enough damage to destroy a vessel of that size."
She allowed herself a chuckle.
"Oh, I know. But we can scar that beautiful face."
She threw the thrusters to full and as she screamed past, let lose a single volley, leaving a gash along the nose of the Monarch's Fortune.
She traveled to well outside any weapons range she knew of in case they were to regain control and seek revenge before attempting another jump.
"Spin up the Necto drive and plot a course for Arnithos."
"I must warn you again that it has been too little time since your last jump for that to be safe."
She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed.
"Giles, just do it. And know that when we arrive, I am having you replaced."
"Very well ma'am."
She felt the humming grow in the back of her mind again. Her brainwaves matched those of the computer quickly this time. She felt the familiar knot in her stomach, and the sensation of the floor giving out from under her as they made the jump. When she opened her eyes she saw the space station Arnithos hanging before her.
"Take over and autodock. I'm going to turn in for a bit."
A single beep signified the autodock was engaged. She uncoupled from the chair and spun around, then leisurely made her way down the corridor. This time she stopped for a moment to tuck the power cord away and secure the panel. She collapsed in her bunk and allowed sleep to wash over her.
Plunged into a sea of it, floating in the vastness of it, Istras could feel the pull and sway of the blackness; massive and larger than anything she had ever known. It's vastness comforted and terrified her, for while in it she was utterly alone; simply floating, existing, being moved by unseen waves that she could never hope to understand or control. The blackness was everything. Then something changed. It started as a little thing; it slipped into being and entered her surroundings before she knew it was there. The way it grew reminded her of the way the Necto drive’s patterns seeped into the back of her mind until it couldn't be ignored. It manifested as giant creeping tentacles; slowly searching the blackness from somewhere far deeper than she was. Eventually they found her and inched closer, then backed away as if they were asking for permission to be near her. Not knowing why, she reached out a hand to touch one. The two met, and she knew that she was what it had been looking for. It suddenly receded back into its depths as she was plunged towards the surface that was the waking world.
She forced her eyes to open. She was conscious, but barely. She had a splitting headache and couldn't feel her left arm. The former she guessed was from making jumps so close together, and she silently cursed Giles for being right. The later was simply due to the fact that when she collapsed into her bunk she was laying on her arm, and evidently, hadn't stirred since. After a moment of massaging and enduring the ensuing pins and needles, she regained the use of her arm. She rose and examined herself in the mirror. Taking in her slightly pointed ears and gray skin she once again considered getting cosmetic surgery. As a half breed she got the best of one world, but the worse of another. She had manifested several forms of psychic powers, rather than just one. But she was a social outcast. None of the purebloods would give her the time of day if they could help it, so she was forced to mingle with the less reputable, or others such as herself. Dismissing the thought of comedic surrey she noted her hair was getting rather long, and in a week or two it would begin to get in the way of the ports on her neck. She wasn't overly find of her short hair, but having to move her hair every time she needed to make a jump was bothersome. The pounding in her head increased, and she decided alcohol was the remedy. Conveniently, she was to meet the buyer at a bar. She dressed, threw a few things into a bag, then paused at the door. Going unarmed seemed like a bad idea, but Arnithos had a very strict no-guns policy, and breaking that meant a lifetime ban from a convenient port. She slid open her drawer where most of her weapons were stashed and looked them over. A smirk crept its way onto her lips as she remembered Arnithos had no regulations against psyblades. She slipped the glove on and departed for her favorite bar, The Triumphant Cock.
The docking tube was annoyingly sterile. Pure whites and overly bright illumination that lined the floor and ceiling, they didn't help her headache. She approached the door and slotted her I.D. in the port next to the door. As the automatic customs program ran a check she looked out a view port. All the ships lined up, prim and proper in their docks. Many of the ships were sleek and elegant. These belonged to various alliances and corporations. Each was a work of art. Other ships displayed warfaring craftmanship. Their designs were as intimidating as their weaponry. Istras’ ship it looked like scrap in comparison. It was little more than a pod with some cargo space. A Frankenstein’s monster of at least four different ships. It wasn't pretty, but it worked, and she had no outstanding debts on it.
As she watched a section of empty space warp, light refracting in ways it shouldn’t, a small fleet appeared. Istras was impressed as all five ships appeared almost simultaneously. She guessed by their impressive bond that all of the navigators were probably trained together at the academy. The group was composed of four frigates and a cruiser, all with the Baalu Industries logo prominently displayed on their bows. One of these pilots was Istras’ buyer. A beep preceded a prerecorded message. “Welcome to Arnithos. Enjoy your stay.”
Her path to the bar took her through an area of the station known as the “lonely wharf”, although “whore alley” would have been a more appropriate name. About twenty women stood outside their respective places of business. Most of them were human, but a few Sirens stood by as well. The Sirens looked almost human, but instead of hair, they had tentacles. They looked like women who wore octopus wigs. They always unnerved her, but not because of their appearance, but rather the way they always stared at her. Her uneasiness always intensified when she remembered the rumors that Sirens could see the future. Istras ducked her head as she increased her pace and did everything she could to not make eye contact with any of them.
She was forced to stop short of her quest for alcohol as someone stepped in front of her. She looked up, ready to berate whoever dared stand between her and her mission. Her words caught in her throat as she looked into the face of the most beautiful Siren she had ever seen. The Siren was not necessarily “trendy”, but she had an almost primal and ancient beauty in her features that spoke to Istras’ most basic instincts. The Siren quickly reached up and grabbed Istras’ chin. Istras froze. The light blue tentacles that wreathed the Sirens face reached out and gently brushed Istras’ face. Then the Siren’s pupils seemed to expand until her eyes were solid black.
“You have awoken two leviathans. One seeks to end your life, the other to prolong it. You should fear both.”
Her voice was like a chorus, echoing in both Istras’ ears and her mind. The Siren’s eyes returned to normal, she released her grip on Istras’ chin, then without another word walked past Istras and into one of the buildings. Istras watched her go. Then shook herself and muttered to herself:
“Fuck I need a drink.”
She resumed her march toward the bar.