When Eyeball arrived on the bridge, it was a radical departure from the old scout-ship bridge. A central Captain's chair, with a variety of controls; most notably the flight joystick he had preferred for the most part; in a roughly rectangular room. There was a main viewscreen, a central holographic emitter, and a ring of stations around him; each of which was identical, and could likely be configured for any given purpose at a moment's notice. He frowned. This... seemed a bit odd.
It looked like a classic starship bridge; the one on the Jeanne was shaped differently, but not so different. But... why so large? It was just Ascension and Eyeball here.
He settled into his seat, bringing up the display he'd been following when he was flying before; he set his helmet beside him, letting himself relax a bit as a magnet clamped it to the side of his seat, and glanced at the nearest drone. "So. Why all the positions? It's just the two of us, and you can run it all from anywhere."
He adjusted the course; and started to raise the warp factor; Ascension had been slowly cycling it in the high 200s and low 300s based on nearby density of stellar mass, and he started pushing it up past 1000 again as he kept an eye on the display.
The drone gestured at the layout. "For the same reason it wasn't just the two of us crewing the Jeanne D'Arc. This unit is EMP-resistant, but not EMP-proof, and the Republic is known to use EMP devices; as are the various pirate factions and 'Swarm' factions who fight it. I am currently building increased EMP resistance into the ship, and will be producing a new cyborg crew eventually; it would be optimal to also have organic crew to ensure the mission is not solely reliant on myself. I would recommend recruiting the Jernal and some of the Forstagers, and, if possible, others when we arrive at our destination."
A soft chuckle. "I suppose so." He pondered what sort of oddities might exist outside of the Republic. Was it mostly crabs and squids?
As the number crept upward, the ship once more flying through space at a rate that would be suicidal for anyone else, the drone continued. "Aside from building an organic crew, and training them to handle things in an emergency, I would also recommend naming the ship. While not all groups name their vessels, some simply use numbers or codes like the Republic, pirate vessels, even locally, usually have names."
Eyeball nodded thoughtfully; as he subtly changed course to avoid a few particle collisions that wouldn't destroy the ship, but would heavily damage shields; requiring him to make another adjustment a few seconds later. "True enough. Do they usually do angry, murder-sounding names?
"Varies heavily. Some use ordinary names like human pirate ships of old; the Delivery, Fancy, and Royal Fortune would not be out of place. The Republic has records of ships named variations of death, of mythical hostile creatures, and the like as well."
Eyeball studied the display; everything was clear, for the moment. He ramped the speed up even higher, cycling up past 2000 times lightspeed. "Interesting. Any mythical creatures common to Founder descendants that they might find frightening?"
"Negative. Most Founder descendants developed their own unique culture based on their new homeworld. The Marrick, however, have a variety of mythical creatures, including a group of snake-like 'gods', enormous limbless creatures whom supposedly devoured worlds and crushed cities. One of which, the Seiliu, would light whatever it was looking at on fire when it was angered, and had a head that appeared to be a giant eyeball that split to reveal an enormous four-tongued mouth. It's name was based on older Founder dialect words essentially meaning 'Gaze of Wrath'. Considering your 'Eyeball' callsign, it would be thematically appropriate."
Eyeball dialed the speed down slightly as he shifted angles, still keeping course in roughly the same direction. "See-Loo. Gaze of Wrath. Works for me. Can we get the outside of the ship painted for that, in english and in Marrick?"
A moment's pause. "It is being done as we speak."
He sighed. "Good. I'll be focusing on getting us as far as I can for the next eight hours. If something comes up that needs me, just beep me and I'll slow us down so you can take over."
***
The administration deck on Privateering-Support-Station-7; the initials, in its native tongue, forming a word for a knife, thus 'Knife 7'; was, as usual, chaos. A massive circle, older than artificial gravity, the outer, low-G deck was taken up by the older, more feeble folks like Qaki herself; like most of the humanoids on the deck, a faintly blue-grey tinged person with slightly webbed fingers, two enormous, dark eyes, and a more muscular stature than most of the descendants.
The various other crew; mostly the squid-like Shoork-ta who shared the same world with Qaki's own Shoork-su, were constantly moving between the station proper; an enormous stack of disks containing no less than seventeen different docking bays and different pressurized compartments, each with its own independent life support system and dozens of docks for ships to attach; and the most ridiculous, motley assortment of ships connected to it she had ever imagined.
Her own people had colonized this system centuries ago, before learning the Republic existed; and while the uppermost dock had several of the smooth, shell-like vessels of her own personal navy, resplendent in beautiful shades of reds, oranges, and pink, each docking ring below that was designed for a different atmosphere, and many studded with the hideous abominations forged by alien design philosophies; masses of spikes and hard angles rather than the smooth, aerodynamic curves of a proper ship.
Two of them; the nitrogen-filled atmosphere on the 15th deck, and the helium-filled one on the 13th; were currently completely empty aside from a few maintenance technicians who the station kept on just in case. The only nitrogen-breathers in this sector had been conquered by the Republic decades ago, and the pirate bands that used that dock had steadily dwindled until, today, she wasn't certain any of them survived. Someday, they would decommision that deck; likely turn it into another one for the more common oxygen-breathers. The helium-filled one usually had ships; it was simply coincidental to be empty at present.
Qaki looked over her board of new arrivals. Three Yogg ships, loaded down with the goods from raids on rural Republic farm worlds, currently inbound; already handled and directed to dock 4 by subordinates. The one that had actually been forwarded to her, however, was an unknown, with no Confederate transponder at all. In fact... it was running a Republic transponder, but not identifying as a Republic ship, and didn't match known Republic designs. It had a strange design, like a series of three boxes, each rectangular and a bit bigger than the one before; one small one at the front with what were clearly particle cannon barrels, and the last much larger, thicker; like a destroyer-sized ship, but longer, thinner.
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Four of the Shoork warships were already moving to intercept, shields up, weapons charged; but it would be her job to decide whether or not to kill whoever these people were. The name of the ship was... Gaze of Wrath? In Marrick. But it also had script in some other, completely unknown language. She frowned. "Hail the unknown. This.. 'Gaze of Wrath'."
A brief wet slap of tentacles from one of the comms stations below her... and her display lit up; a holo-image of a humanoid figure in some sort of light armor; not Republic-standard, especially not the smooth chrome helmet; appeared on the screen.
"Gaze of Wrath, this is Knife-7 chief. You come into Confederacy space with a Republic transponder, a Marrick name, and energy signatures that look quite a bit like Republic weaponry. You will power down and prepare to be boarded, or you will be destroyed."
The figure gave a slow nod. "This is Eyeball, captain of the independent ship Gaze of Wrath. I've never heard of this 'Confederacy' before, and I hadn't heard of the Republic until recently either. I have some people I rescued from a Republic death-camp I'd like to find a home for, and I have goods to sell taken from Republic ships I have destroyed. I do have some tech onboard that is proprietary and I can't power down or let your people look at, but I wouldn't mind someone coming by to make sure I'm not secretly an infiltrator ship full of Marrick, so long as they're someone willing to tell me about this 'Confederacy' while they do so."
"Gaze of Wrath, you are surrounded and outgunned, in Confederacy space, and don't have a choice in the matter. Power down. Now."
A slow head-shake. "Your ships are dramatically out-classed, and are already within effective firing range. I already killed two Republic Escort-class ships, one of their cruisers, and god knows how many of their ground troops. I'd prefer not to have to take down these four... destroyers who, all together, don't match up to the cruiser I killed a few light-years away from here."
He glanced down at his display; and tapped a few buttons; seeming to move his hand around randomly for a few seconds before tapping a few spots on the screen. "There. A warning shot. Not quite enough to take down the shields."
Qaki opened her mouth to respond; the destroyers were still over five light-seconds away. Accurate fire was impossible at that distance; even a warp-capable missile would just destroy itself trying to get a precise shot, this far into the system. The only thing you could hit that far away would be a rock, or a planet; even a space station could avoid fire from that far out with its maneuvering thrusters. But an alert brought her mouth snapping back shut.
She stopped, staring at her display. The Gaze of Wrath had fired four shots, making small movements before each one, aiming one at each incoming destroyer. And... somehow, impossibly, every shot connected with the target's shields; causing dramatic drops in all four. Were those... some sort of tiny, guided missiles, traveling at a huge fraction of lightspeed?
The chief raised her eyes and glared at Eyeball's image. "Firing upon ships of the Shoork fleet is an act of war; and doing so inside Shoork space makes it an act of war against the Confederacy as a whole."
"None of those were actually fired on; deliberate misses, but close enough to impact shields. A demonstration that no, I'm not under your power, and we're negotiating as equals, hopefully potential allies, or even simply temporary business partners. If you want to make a big deal about this, and turn this into a fight, I'll kill these four destroyers, salvage anything useful, and leave. I'll find someone else fighting the republic and work with them instead."
As far as she was aware, whatever had just done that was well beyond anything they'd seen from a Republic ship; and while the captain looked like a classic Republic life-form, so did she, and many others in the Confederacy and beyond. This.. "Come to a complete stop. Do not approach further. I will bring a boarding party... an armed boarding party. If you can convince us you're not with the Republic, we can do business. But mind yourself."
The figure nodded. "Of course. We'll stay right here for now. Just to be clear though, since you look like what the Republic folks call a Tier-2 or Tier-1, if I'm misreading things, and discover that this is actually a Republic outpost, none of these ships are leaving this system alive, and your boarding party will regret having been born. So if you actually work for the Founders, make your peace before you board the shuttle."
The image suddenly vanished. Qaki blinked. What? He wanted to make sure the Shoork weren't Republic?
***
"The amount of information is... excessive. I can give you a big picture concept, but to be more specific, I'll need time to process it. This station is one of a number of 'Privateer Support Stations' where various confederacy navies dock. Both independent corporations and confederacy nations which have no border with the Republic use them to support fleets, selling valuables and intel acquired from the Republic, getting repaired, and moving back out. This local station is owned by a race called the Shoork."
A pair of images suddenly appeared on the holo before Eyeball. One of a fairly attractive, albeit blue-skinned, woman with black hair and obvious gills running down her body; probably the closest to a human in terms of build he'd seen from the various aliens. Well, human woman, at least, as the bone structure was a bit different between them. The eyes were... a bit strange. Almost anime-girl eyes, enormous dark blue/black orbs, bigger than the six eyes a Marrick usually had combined.
The other... was of a squid. Just a squid. A solid upper body with eyes and perhaps twenty tentacles dangling down, in a dull grey-blue color. If he'd seen it in an aquarium on earth he wouldn't have given it a second glance.
"I can tell you quite a bit about them, but they are currently en route, so the basic summary is simple. The humanoid Shoork-Su were planted on the Shoork-Ta's world long ago. The two species got along, work well together; and when they met the Republic, centuries later, hated them and everything they stood for. They are a monarchy, and one of several powerful nations fighting the Republic in this part of the galaxy. This station should be a good place to learn about them, buy and sell things, and recruit crew. Possibly also find someone reputable to get the Forstagers to a new world."
Eyeball nodded, rising to his feet. "Who is on the way?"
"Chief Qaki, of the Knife-7 station, and a team of marines. They are heavily armed and armored, and ready to fight if need-be; Qaki is the equivalent of a duchess, or admiral, and commands both this station and the Shoork fleets in the system. Her coming in person is apparently unusual."
He blinked. "Duchess or admiral? Pretty big difference there. Which airlock?"
One of the drones started to follow, keeping pace with Eyeball. "Not to the Shoork. They're a monarchy, and royalty own both territory and the ships to defend it. She owns over two hundred warships, mostly of the destroyer and frigate size, and the station itself is armed as well."
As he walked down the hallways, heading towards the proper airlock, he shook his head in amusement. "That's incredibly stupid. We should adjust the translation though, if Chief and Duchess are the same thing."
"Negative. She was referring to herself, at the time, as commander of the station. She is also the owner of this star system, but apparently typically runs things from that station, and tends to have a personal touch for things she deems important."
"Ah. Which, logically, includes us. Good enough."