Xyra
Home.
How was she home?
After all that time, the air was thick with humidity and she could feel the warm embrace of water around her feet.
This was her home planet, Xylthoriax, the two moons separated by the sparkling stream of the planet’s ring belt.
The familiar glow of industrialized lights cutting through the swamp mists, and the recognizable outlines of structures rising from the marshy waters, chimneys spouting more humid mist.
It was exactly as she dreamed it, as she remembered it in her most fond of memories; she had to look through the window.
Walkways and platforms extended in a complex network, allowing passage through the swamp while keeping a precarious distance from the murky depths below.
Bridges and underpasses allowed for large barges to bring cargo around, while a familiar distant hum of machinery echoed through the air.
She recognized the flora and fauna of her home world, bio-luminescent plants thrived in this unique ecosystem, their forms adapted to the harsh conditions.
Creatures with iridescent scales and multi-jointed limbs moved with an eerie grace through the waters almost undisturbed.
She sought the shapes of her parents that accompanied those memories and dreams but she found the house of her youth empty.
She couldn't leave it, she couldn't venture down the stairs even if in her dreams she could even if it led to the beginning of her nightmares usually.
She couldn’t wake up.
Oh right, she wouldn't be able to wake up in the first place, she had become one with the ancient machine.
Was this an illusion the machine was showing her?
Was this to be her cage?
Was she to be trapped past while her body was moved by the ancient machine?
She noticed one of the walls becoming transparent, and then opening up to a corridor that reminded her of... no that wasn’t possible!
Yet it was right in front of her like she saw it in the historical archives so many years ago: the galactic council chamber.
It was a scene that was so historic and iconic that it was dissonant, so manufactured that it couldn't be true.
It was right out of propaganda literature designed to drum up unity and cooperation that were by no means offered to those who sought them.
Still, the corridor hovered in the air in front of her house, as if it had no weight or consistency as if it didn't connect to the nothingness of space.
It appeared as if that was the only option that was given her, that was a quiet invitation, so she accepted it and walked in.
She couldn't even get a claw into the station, let alone the main chamber, but here she was, in the middle of the council chambers.
A stream of light came from above in the central area that was reserved for the pleading of those who were external to the council.
For her that was but a podium of shame and humiliation where all seated could often spectate to the pleas of those who still held hope the galactic union would somehow go out of its way to help.
She could see the image of a human in the light and had barely the time to wonder why the heck a human was portrayed here before seeing the image of Lemela flash after it in the inconsistent glow.
Her fur was different, she was more natural, as she was still alive and not converted to a being partially machine.
Then she saw herself in the glow and something resembling understanding flashed in her mind.
She heard the voice of the machine and saw the light glow to the form of the same human she saw in the reflection of light.
Xyra had already seen a human without a suit, they were built as predators so efficiently that she somehow wondered why they didn’t worship the great huntress.
This one seemed to have scales of different color, had shorter fur atop his head and maybe a was bit taller, but that was about it.
He dressed like the other humans, only his uniform appeared to be something out of date.
Then she remembered humans didn’t have scales.
How did they call that stuff again?
That wasn’t important right now, nor it was the obsession of humans for clothing; she had more pressing matters to ask.
- O ancient machine, please forgive this little one for asking, but did you pack-bonded with a human? -
-What the heck is wrong with you people and this pack-bonding stuff? - asked the human.
“Biological definition within the allowed margin of error. Pack-bond, while incorrect is a working analogy.”
Chirped back the machine, its voice coming from everywhere and nowhere in particular.
-Seriously?- The human appeared visibly confused, then shrugged it off.
-Anyway, like you heard name’s Ethan, it’s a pleasure to meet you mizz Xyra. I guess we have some catching up to do-
-Wait- she said – I still need to ask one thing to the ancient machine… why do you cooperate with a human? They destroyed your planet, your people.-
“Xyra’s information = incorrect. This planet doesn’t belong to us yet."
-Wait a second Virgil, what do you mean by the planet doesn't belong to us yet? Taking the fucking planet was never the idea!- Protested the human
"Planet conquest has been deemed by our calculation the most likely way to achieve the end of slavery and equal treatment for its inhabitants. These equal treatments will include cooperation agreements, prison terms, death, and assimilation into this collective. Warning, the treatment doesn't seem equal for everybody. Query: permission to upload the correct information into drone Xyra’s consciousness.”
Ethan sighed covering his face with a hand.
- You really need to learn how to talk, Virgil. You make it seem like we are gonna go up and start making a genocide! And no, equal treatment is not literal... well yes but it's more complex than that, there still needs to be retribution for those who have committed bad stuff. Anyway, It will be simpler if she knows where we come from, to start.-
Suddenly Xyra simply knew and what followed was a lengthy conversation that covered various topics and the objectives of Ethan soon to be hers.
Dexton
The Ahuizotl was a venerable spacefaring vessel that had weathered the rigors of the cosmos and emerged as a symbol of both power and endurance in the hands of the colonial defense force, the fleet it once belonged to.
Still, it had another name and insignia then, even now its timeworn exterior bore the scars of countless skirmishes, along with less than professional repairs; yet beneath the battle-worn facade lay a formidable and battle-hardened core.
The hull of the Ahuizotl was a fusion of advanced alloys and composite materials, chosen not only for their resilience but also for their stealth capabilities.
A litany of redundant systems kept the vessel in check and its distinctive, sleek design allowed it to cut through the vacuum of space with both grace and precision while also allowing atmosphere entry if needed.
It housed an array of state-of-the-art weaponry and defensive systems that were way more modern than the external frame.
The ship was equipped with a versatile array of energy-based weapons, ranging from rapid-fire laser turrets to powerful plasma cannons, each capable of unleashing devastating barrages upon adversaries.
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True to human design it mounted several tubes for missiles, torpedoes, and a couple dozen of rail guns for good measure.
Complementing its offensive capabilities, the Ahuizotl featured advanced shielding technology, incorporating energy barriers that could deflect incoming fire or at the worst try to absorb part of the hits.
The nexus-field core was jury-rigged to be able to sustain the drain of the new and improved system of the ship.
Its stern housed an old but powerful hyperdrive engine cluster, flanked by several radiating heat sinks that dissipated the immense energy generated during FTL travel.
Despite its age, the Ahuizotl had undergone numerous retrofits and customizations, reflecting the resourcefulness and adaptability of its pirate crew, manned by Dexton himself.
The interior of the ship was a testament to ingenuity and human adaptability, with modified living quarters, improvised cargo holds, and jury-rigged engineering compartments.
These alterations, while not always elegant, spoke to the crew's ability to maximize the vessel's potential even at the expense of living space.
After all the Ahuizotl was but a light cruiser, about five miles long from stern to prow, and about two miles large and wide.
Within the command deck, a network of antiquated yet reliable consoles coexisted with state-of-the-art control interfaces, forming a hybrid system that blended tradition with innovation.
Upon the captain's chair, well-worn and weathered, Dexton scratched his head upon the scene his view screen prompted him.
Those were top-of-the-line ships right there, but still, not a sight he’d liked to see as ships sent to escort a simple cargo.
Still, he knew their profile very well from his time in the Navy.
The Valkyrie-class cruiser embodied the pinnacle of human engineering and military prowess in the vastness of space.
Its exterior was a harmonious blend of sleek lines and rugged functionality, reflecting the dual nature of its role as both a formidable warship and a guardian.
The hull of the Valkyrie class was composed of a reinforced tritanium composite, providing an optimal balance between durability and cost.
The vessel's profile was characterized by a sharp, arrowhead-shaped prow that tapered towards the stern, maximizing its aerodynamic efficiency for atmospheric operations.
If one ever needed a ten-mile heavily armored target entering the sky of a hostile planet for whatever reason.
Arrayed along its length are several strategically positioned weapon emplacements, including advanced particle beam turrets and kinetic energy projectiles like in all human ships.
The cruiser's surface was studded with modular docking ports and access hatches, allowing for rapid deployment of auxiliary spacecraft like corvettes, frigates, troop carriers, and drones.
A series of retractable armor-plating sections could further fortify the vessel's defensive capabilities.
Its stern housed a powerful hyperdrive engine cluster, flanked by several radiating heat sinks that dissipate the immense energy generated during FTL travel.
Then there was one of its complementary ships, the Sentinel-class cruiser: a marvel of cutting-edge technology and covert operations, designed to operate on the fringes of contested space with minimal detection.
Its exterior was shrouded in specialized metamaterials that granted it a low radar cross-section and thermal signature, rendering it exceptionally elusive to enemy sensors.
If that thing wanted, it could have evaded all detection and passed by him rendering him none the wiser of its operations.
He knew that it was way less sturdy than its companion ship, after all its hull was constructed from a composite of advanced polymers and metamaterials, chosen for their ability to absorb and deflect electromagnetic waves and sensors rather than bullets and gamma rays.
He sighed looking at the surface of the ship, riddled with angular facets and stealth-enhancing contours, designed to scatter and dissipate incoming radar pulses and coated in a layer of adaptive chameleon-like plating.
That thing could enter the atmosphere of any planet and the populace couldn't even tell the difference unless the pilot was nosediving recklessly in a ten-mile-long ball of re-entry heat and flames.
Dexton knew very well that despite the appearance of being an unarmed vessel, its weapon systems were seamlessly integrated into its surface, concealing formidable energy projectors and torpedoes within retractable housings.
Its propulsion system, based on advanced plasma hyperdrives fueled by the ships' core, emitted a fainter, diffused glow than the standard hyperdrive engine cluster, further reducing its visibility to the naked eye.
All to escort a single, apparently insignificant, cargo vessel with the insignia of the colonial defense force.
Dexton knew well that it was very unwise to attack any human vessel in the first place, but any bearing that mark was particularly an issue.
It was related to him after all.
-Get me a private channel to Claye into my cabin-
He said gruffly to his comm officer, making sure to glare at him with his artificial eye for maximum intimidation effect.
-Channel established captain-
A deeply scarred versel, answered without flinching from the comm console making him smile internally for having such an experienced and not-so-easily scared crew, before leaving the ship in his first mate's hands.
He entered a chamber that blended opulence with the rugged aesthetic of a seasoned spacefarer.
This was his sanctum, a testament to his taste for the finer things amidst the untamed vastness of the cosmos.
The walls were adorned with a rich mahogany veneer, intricately carved with ornate patterns representing a mythical embodiment of dogs.
From Xolotl to Uridimmu, from Ahuizotl to Teju Jagua all manner of symbols and shapes were masterfully carved to represent the depiction of those beasts Dexton had envisioned in his mind when he heard tales of their feats.
A panoramic view of the galactic expanse stretched across the aft wall, obscured only by a protective energy shield that crackled with a sapphire hue.
He loved gazing into the abyss of space, after all.
In one corner stood an imposing bookshelf, its shelves laden with leather-bound tomes, ancient stone tablets, and holographic data slates.
Several canine-looking beings were taxidemically preserved as statues, coming from all corners of the galaxy.
Dexton paused in front of the only actual dog coming from earth in the room, perfectly preserved, he could still imagine his tail wagging while seeing him.
-Channel secured master. Nobody is listening.-
Chirped the three-headed projection of Cerberus before the gruff voice of Claye could be heard.
-So… you call me just to show me your room now?-
Claye’s voice came from the communication terminal of the grand mahogany desk, meticulously organized, the old face of Claye depicted by the embedded holographic displays.
-I sincerely thought you had croaked old man.-
Dexton said while modulating his voice, before sitting behind his desk, stealing a glance at his king-sized bed; he’d rather be peacefully sleeping than having that conversation.
He sighed, he had to have it nonetheless.
-Why else flex that much?-
The old man chuckled from the intercom.
-Why not remind you of your leash, mister guard dog?-
-I AM NOT A GUARD DOG!- he shouted back growling at the figure – Need I remind you I can have the whole town leveled at any given time?- he said menacingly.
The man waved a hand dismissively
– I’m sure ya can, lad. After all, I’m only an old, little retired man, I’m pretty sure ya can get away with it scot-free when you’re next door to my former employers.
I mean, I could be wrong, but generals these days are just old relics, just like the trinket without value ya keep right?
And I am surely old, frail, and I gather my long-awaited supplies for dementia are there, are they not?-
Dexton narrowed his eyes cursing the old man in his mind. Of course, he had to bring up his age after all. And he had to believe Claye of all people had gone senile.
Then the galaxy would start spinning the other way around.
–All of this for supplies? Seriously? You could have loaded it all in the Sentinel class. Or hell, maybe, I don’t know, have it dropped the usual way?! You wanna make me lose face here?!--Well not quite.-
The old man's avatar shrugged.
– I wouldn’t give a rat’s ass about your face normally Dexton. But ye’r our li’l welcome mat for the good ol’ galactic council art thou not?
And yer pirates are doing a lousy job at being the subject of tall tales lately.
So why don’t ya just give a warning shot to the Lenneth will ya? That would be the Valkyrie class cruiser yer staring at. Don’t scrape her paint and I am pretty sure she will give way.
The Tzitzimitl will just disappear, I will have my favorite cans of soup and ya will have a cargo ship full of loot and men for your little army. I am told ye’re losing them fast these days.-
Dexton scoffed shaking his head.
-Again with the third-rate mutts your gaols can’t hold? Do you know how much time and effort it takes me to whip them into shape old man? And whose fault is it that I am losing men on my turf in the first place?-
The old man shrugged, again
– Look lad, just remember yer side of the deal and don’t send them knocking on my door. I’m told I have a pretty dangerous ladder leading to my office, they often slip off it and are sadly lost.-
-I’m not talking about that- grumbled Dexton – I’m talking about the knight.-
Claye’s face became serious for a moment, he sighed.
– Look, Flint, ye know as well as I do there’s no talking to a zealot. I tried for his sake as well. He will get himself killed if he continues on his path. He just… doesn’t care. Or thinks this will give him heaven or whatever. It’s nice to see a young lad who can see the black and white of the universe. Still, I wish he could see the grays in between.-
-Don’t call me Flint. I’m Dexton now. Flint died in the battle for the frontier. -
Claye laughed bitterly shaking his head. -So anyway can we get this going, Dexton? My back is aching, I need my supplies.-
Dexton sighed, he wouldn’t get anything out of the old man himself, and since the real cargo was inside the sentinel, probably none of his sensors could pick out whatever that was.
If anything he would need to focus on city 29 since it was probably something important enough to be shipped directly to the old hound’s headquarters.
Still, he had to put up with the show.
A pirate capturing one of the colonial defense force cargoes was sure to draw a lot of attention from the galactic council.
Maybe he could get his hands on some serious weaponry for a chance.
He got back up and into the bridge of his ship, back on the seat of command.
-Hail Blackwatch, have them launch a warning salvo to the Valkyrie class ship. Let’s remind the old fool who rules Taboo!-
Sure enough as the bright flash of the lasers missed the Lenneth by a mile the ship simply turned its tail, the cluster of engines glowing as the FTL drive folded space around the ship and made it disappear.
So they had already warmed the drive, had the coordinate prompted, and were ready to leave.
They just gave the appearance of actually trying hard to retreat when it was the plan all along.
A similar process was going around the Tzitzimitl, but it was surely a ruse projected by the high-end holographic projectors installed on tactical spots of the hull.
The ship was using its stealth mode and was probably headed for the surface.
But he had his quarry now with the cargo alone, still, he didn’t want prey handed to him, he at least had his pride.
The cargo ship on its part was having a visible malfunction to the drives and his crew was getting rowdy.
-Heh, so luck wasn’t with them this time? Let’s show the old hound his place. Contact the pups, it’s time for them to prove they are proper dogs ready to bite.-
He looked from the view screen of his ship as Blackwatch came to life releasing a dozen of frigates and seven corvettes.
Dexton crossed his arms and looked at how his men and women would loot the cargo.