Xeno-Psychiatrist Zelana sat at her desk, focused on the glowing interface of her holographic computer.
Her new desk was crafted from smooth, clean white plastic and shaped into an elegant U. Her chair, designed as a sleek white sphere, featured a comfortable brown cushion with an otherwise minimalist design. Her old workstation had been serviceable but ultimately subpar for her needs. Honorary-Lieutenant Snikers had been gracious enough to replace it at her request.
The obligation to work at this hour was not present, yet sleep eluded her. Her initial concern regarding this dubious new species had been transformed into a borderline obsession. The necessity for comprehensive knowledge, acquired with utmost expediency, was felt acutely by her.
Zelana's narrow fingers played with the holographic controls as she reviewed the list of recently decrypted files, wondering where she should begin her review.
Normally, Minboa's advanced systems should've easily accessed the planet's communication infrastructure. However, all channels and networks remained encrypted for unclear reasons. While not unusual for government or NGO entities, these encryptions, varying in complexity, covered everything from and to the planet.
A soft chime from the holographic computer signaled that the ship's system had finished breaking the encryption, causing Zelana's ears to twitch slightly. Minboa's decoding algorithms, superior even by Union standards, had finally bypassed the encrypted data after days of effort. Now, she could examine their findings for the first time. Yet, instead of excitement, she felt only dread and nervousness.
Zelana's eyes darted between different file options, trying to decide which folder to open first. Her gaze lingered on each option before eventually settling on one, which she opened with a hesitant tap.
The folder contained several video clips in unknown formats. The encryption process had converted them for the ship's computers. A bigger issue was the lack of organization; she had to work with a jumble of unorganized content.
Any starting point is as good as another, Zelana mused. She opened one file, and the holographic display began playing the video. It showed something like a drama, with two characters standing in what seemed to be a living room, arguing heatedly.
The argument involved aggressive gestures and shouting but wasn't violent. At least not physically. It made Zelana uncomfortable. Enough of this, she thought irately as she closed the file without taking notes, deeming the subjects unstable and unrepresentative.
She opened another video file, hoping it would provide a more meaningful and worthwhile insight into the species' culture this time.
The scene's location was once again what appeared to be someone’s living room, but this time, it depicted what seemed to be a graphic depiction of a sexual ritual involving multiple participants engaging in… what exactly? It didn’t resemble any coupling she had ever studied. Not that she had seen one in person, but as a Xeno-Psychiatrist, she was well-versed in the cultural dynamics of other species’ mating patterns.
Zelana’s eyes widened in bewilderment and confusion, her mouth falling open slightly. She stared at the display, utterly baffled and not a little bit embarrassed by what she was seeing. After a moment, she snapped out of her daze and quickly closed the video, her ears awkwardly flattening against her head.
Inspiration was not drawn by Zelana from the study's poor commencement.
*****
Andreas lifted open the shuttle's cargo door and entered inside, pausing briefly to glance around and confirm that nobody was watching him. Once certain he was alone, he stepped into the cargo compartment. His eyes scanned the interior, checking that all the cargo was still present. A smug grin spread across his face when he saw everything was untouched.
The aliens were too polite for their own good; if Andreas had been taken prisoner inside a Terran or rebel vessel, his shuttle would have been ransacked by now, with every nook and cranny being inspected in search of anything even remotely suspicious. Yet everything appeared to have been left completely untouched
Andreas approached some of the supply crates, their greenish metal-plastic exteriors gleaming dully in the dim light. He punched a code into the keypad on the nearest crate, his fingers moving swiftly over the buttons. With a soft click, the locks disengaged. Andreas lifted the lid, revealing an arsenal of military-grade firearms and gear packed neatly inside.
Better judgment had been exercised by Andreas, who knew not to travel through hostile space without serious firepower. An alien kidnapping hadn't exactly been anticipated by him at the time, but that little detail was irrelevant.
And it was an impressive arsenal as well; light body armor, some high-end assault rifles with high-capacity magazines and military grade ammo, some frags, and even a personal shield. It's almost unfair how outmatched these alien simpletons are going to be, he mused sadistically with a smirk on his face.
*****
A soft peeping sound emanated from the computer, signaling the completion of the sorting algorithm. Zelana's ears perked up at the noise. She set down her teacup with a soft clink and swiveled in her chair, redirecting her focus to the holographic display. Her fingers tapped at the controls, bringing up the newly organized file structure.
Her initial inquiries' mediocre start revealed the folly of random file review, so she'd created a simple organizing program. Though not a professional programmer, she'd used an AI assistant to streamline the process. Any categorization was better than none, with improvements possible later.
This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Zelana's eyes quickly scanned the newly created categories. Many held familiar names: folders for discussion forums, news broadcasts, and entertainment content. However, she couldn't recognize many others at a glance. She hesitated for a moment, considering which to select. After a brief internal debate, she tapped on a folder titled “Where's My Couch?” and opened one of the video files.
The content resembled what she'd seen before: two characters, male and female based on size and sexual dimorphism, arguing in what looked like a living room. Their physical gestures were more exaggerated this time, with the male knocking over nearby furniture in anger. The translator should've interpreted their speech, but the dialog was too fast and frantic to make sense of.
If such aggressive exchanges are commonplace in their society, it raises serious concerns about their psychological stability, Zelana thought to herself, feeling not a little bit uneasy. Merely watching the heated argument unfold on the holo-screen felt uncomfortable. She couldn't imagine tolerating such a scene in person for long.
Suddenly, in the most inexplicable event she'd witnessed so far, the male Terran unexpectedly slapped the female across the face. Zelana flinched, her ears flattening against her head as she recoiled from the screen. Shocked by the sudden violence, she needed a moment to regain clarity and process what she'd witnessed.
Her unsteady fingers fumbled for the playback controls, rewinding the clip to the exact moment of the slap. Zelana replayed the scene, her eyes wide and unblinking, brow furrowed in stunned disconcert as she searched for any context she might have missed to explain the appalling act.
*****
Andreas performed a confident mag-slap, the crisp sound echoing in the shuttle’s cargo department. With equal self-assurance, he racked the slide, the mechanism sliding smoothly into place. He pulled the cigarette from his mouth, flicking it away with a casual motion.
There was no way he'd lose, even while hopelessly outnumbered. His TAR-34 assault carbine utilized plasma-tipped hyperion rounds from a triple-stacked magazine holding over seventy-two rounds, and his combat vest carried four frag grenades. His real ace, however, was the personal energy shield, a small, capsule-shaped device worn on his belt that rendered their laughable hunting weapons useless.
Or so he hoped; Andreas recalled inspecting their weapons during Kaz's tour. Though basic, the slugs looked quite powerful. Their single-shot design mitigated his concerns, however. Only rapid-firing weapons with large rounds, or a few hits from hyperion rounds like his own, could likely break the shield. From what he gathered, the aliens had neither.
His plan was straightforward: eliminate the security crew, control the bridge, and force them to the nearest rebel holdout. It didn't matter if they had the coordinates; he'd downloaded them to his PDA. Since coordinates were just math, he assumed their computers would understand them. Once at the rebels', he'd murder the crew and auction their ship to the highest bidder, or at least trade it for his freedom.
Andreas was just about to leave the shuttle when he paused, a thought crossing his mind. He slowly turned around, his eyes drawn back to the cargo area. With measured steps, he returned to where the secret shipment was stored, coming to a stop in front of the mysterious container.
The contents of the secret cargo were unknown to Andreas, as he had never been told what was inside. Clear warnings about the consequences of prying had been given to him by the general.
He stood motionless, staring at the large, nondescript cargo container. His eyes traced its utilitarian lines, searching for any clue to its contents. After a moment of internal debate, weighing curiosity against caution, Andreas made his decision.
“Rules be damned. Let's see what we've got here,” he said to himself out loud as he stepped towards the cargo, his hand reaching out to investigate its contents.
*****
Contrary to her expectations, extracting useful material from the decrypted files was painfully difficult. She had added another layer of sorting algorithms to the existing code in the hope of uncovering something worthwhile within the mountains of data.
Zelana rose from her ball chair, her movements graceful despite her weariness. She approached a nearby serving station in her office. With practiced motions, she prepared a cup of tea, carefully adding the steaming liquid to her cup.
Just as she was about to take a small sip, her holo-computer emitted a sharp, insistent beeping. Zelana's ears perked up, her eyes widening slightly in surprise and worry. She hurried back to her desk, setting the cup aside with a soft clink. Leaning forward, she peered at the warning message flashing on the screen, her brow furrowing as she read.
================================
SYSTEM ALERT: CATEGORIZATION FAILURE
ERROR CODE: 0xA93E-UNKNOWN-PATTERN
Data exhibits aberrant structures and unsettling patterns, suggesting intent or phenomena outside system comprehension.
================================
The sorting algorithms had built-in protections against malicious content, but according to the warning message, it couldn't quite deduce what it was looking at.
The supposedly troublesome content was inside a single folder. Zelana glanced at the file path.
ROOT > MIL_ARCHIVE > BLACKFILE_DB > RESTRICTED_ARCHIVE_47-B: INCIDENT RECORDS – CLASSIFIED
Zelana wasn't sure what she'd found, but it'd piqued her curiosity. She sipped her tea before tapping the folder icon to open it.
At the center of Zelana's desk, a ball-shaped holo-projector activated, instantly projecting a series of flat images in a multi-dimensional array. The holographic display followed the desk's U-shape, arranging the images into a three-by-three grid.
The displayed images were utterly horrific, surrounding her with scenes of gruesome death. Mutilated bodies, many rendered unrecognizable by their injuries, were shown lying individually like discarded meat, stacked in large piles, or thrown into shallow trenches and pits. Each image presented a different variation of the gruesome scene.
This alone was horrific, yet even more disturbing were the images showing uniformed Terrans holding what appeared to be slugthrowers, clearly implying their responsibility for the carnage. The images didn't depict fighting, only extermination. The unfortunate victims had been slaughtered by those wielding the killing instruments.
Zelana froze, unable to react immediately. But as her mind registered the gruesome contents, hysteria took hold. Her hand jerked, spilling hot tea across her lap. She barely noticed the burning pain, her horrified eyes locked on the horrific images. For several agonizing moments, she couldn’t tear her gaze away. As the shock began to subside, she started to hyperventilate, dizziness washing over her. Any attempt to regain control was hopeless.
image [https://i.imgur.com/lxXH9zy.jpg]
She lurched to her feet, stumbling back from her desk. Her stomach churned as the full impact of what she’d seen hit her again. Unable to hold back, she doubled over and retched. The room spun, waves of nausea and shock overwhelming her. Her legs buckled, and she collapsed to the floor in a faint.