Chapter 81: Impressions
“What are you doing?”
Joseph turned his head to respond, his eyes not leaving their target. “I’m trying to see if this thing blinks.”
Nalah walked to his side, her own curiosity evident with one of the newest additions to the settlement. “So you’re staring at it?”
“I don’t wanna miss it when it does.”
“Is it important that it blinks?”
He abandoned his task for a moment, raising a brow at the blond-furred female. “Look, it’s weird—more than usual, anyway.”
The planner nodded. “Well, it blinks, so I suppose that is one curiosity resolved.”
“What?” He turned back to the cow-like animal, its impassive stare unwavering. “Really?”
“It blinked when you looked at me.”
“Fuck,” he sighed with a roll of his eyes. It had been the better part of an hour checking out the new livestock that came with the last trading caravan, and this one looked the closest to a non-altered variation of something he had seen before. Though, the dark grey coloration was interesting enough for him to be intrigued. It was—as far as he cared—a cow.
Nalah noticed his dejected visage, patting him on the shoulder and tensing up when he winced. “Sorry. Why are you so interested in this one?”
He shrugged, ignoring the pull on his healing scar. “You’re fine. As far as this thing? I don’t know, it’s pretty close to an animal we have on Earth called a ‘cow.’ That’s actually why it’s weirding me out.”
She considered his response, her eyes wandering around the rest of the barn. “Do none of the others draw parallels?”
“They do,” he confirmed hesitantly, “but this guy looks the least...different.” He tilted his head to examine it. “Girl. Maybe we can milk it?”
Nalah gave him an incredulous look before shaking her head, her paw gesturing to the rest of the new occupants. “Care to name the rest as well?”
He glowered at her before closing his eyes and exhaling through his nose, turning his attention to the other pens. There were places for more to be sectioned out—they had made sure that there was room for expansion in the future—but the ones they had occupied for now hosted their new menagerie, as few as they were.
One pen held four hedgehog-porcupine-slug things, the idea being to see how quickly they regrew their quills and if those could be removed humanely to begin with. He figured they could, but it would help to replace their stores with the increase in population within the settlement.
Another pen held six ferret-looking animals, the expected fur replaced by a thick wool of yellow colour. Despite their resemblance to the playful mustelids of Earth, they were about the size of a large dog. Their temperament was pretty docile, and they didn’t seem to mind people coming and going near their holdings—even allowing pats for a little while before they wandered off to lay down.
Two things with a fairly goat-like appearance were milling about in their enclosure, their face holding more in common with a shark than their namesake being somewhat disturbing. It was a small comfort to know that the teeth were still those of a herbivore. He didn’t want to learn that they had a taste for hands rather than the grass they seemed happy to munch away on.
The final occupied spot was currently the most heavily fortified—two juvenile moss-wolves eyeing everyone that came near them and occasionally barking or growling at those who ended up too close while they backed into a corner.
“In order,” he started, pointing to each of the enclosures, “cow, hedgehog, ferret-sheep, goat-shark, and moss-wolf. Plus the rock-worms out back.” He dropped his arm, a lopsided grin donned. “Are they good names? Nope, but it’s what I’m calling them unless someone else has a better idea.”
Nalah rolled her eyes, lightly punching his shoulder. “I pray someone does.”
He laughed, waving off her disapproval. “Need something?”
“Ah,” she voiced, remembering that she wasn’t here just to give him a hard time. “Sahari adjusted the allotment of the workforce, so I have enough to start working on expanding our settlement outwards, if not just the deforestation to prepare for it.”
“Need the Atmo?” Nalah nodded. He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder casually. “Go ask.”
“What shall we do about the wall in that direction?”
He closed an eye and tilted his head as he thought about it. “Could chunk out a section as another gate? Keep the wall up and just have it act as a divider? Might want to talk to Jax about if it would be worth it for the added security it would afford us while we develop the new area.”
“Then that is what I will do,” she affirmed before giving him a soft pat on the back and heading off.
He directed his attention back to the cow, its unwavering stare remaining. “You’d be less unsettling if you blinked.”
It did not.
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Pan fed the palm strip through the quill, her assigned assistant happily stitching through a separate article of clothing as previously directed with little need for instruction with the specifics. The only parts that the Paw needed to introduce her to were the long strips of the heated wood that they used instead of string, and the unique material that the pack produced.
The female had only made herself a change of clothes so far—the set she arrived with being the only one she had prepared. It was apparently designed to advertise her skills, so Pan was more than happy to offer her assistance in completing an outfit that would see more rugged use, especially with the odd processing they often used.
Toril had been welcomed into the sewing room in the den once they had mentioned the barrels they used, his interest in the contents and liquids proving useful. He had taken to borrowing several items from the kitchen and had broken down many of the steps down into more concentrated forms in a dedicated lab—allowing faster processing of the flora, as well as expediting the long preparation time for leathers. Add that onto his contribution in easing her kit’s communications, and Pan was rather thankful for the male… Even if he was a tad odd.
With the space saved by needing less containers for their solutions, they had increased the density of what they could process, allowing a more consistent stream of fabrics and garments for the pack. It would be a useful development, if only because of the expected increase in population as time went on. Though most everyone had two or three sets, there was a quiet desire for more clothing with recreation in mind, rather than work, and it was something that Pan and her new ‘protege’ were working on now that they found the time for it.
“Like it?” the light brown-furred female asked with a teasingly cocky tilt of her head. The shirt she displayed had embossed designs stitched into the leather where the breast lay, the fabrics flowing lightly on the back.
“Is it for yourself?” she asked while nodding her approval. The lack of titles or overly respectful tone felt natural to hear from this one, though Pan couldn’t quite say why. Perhaps it was that as if she was working on a hobby with a friend, rather than the usual distaste that was involved when such was omitted.
“No.” The new one shook her head, her gaze softening as she inspected the stitching on the back. “That female assisting the blue-furred one, Pyra?” She paused to consider it before continuing. “I believe someone mentioned she was a servant from Loptr’s settlement. No matter. The poor thing has been in nothing but drab garb since she was reassigned. I figured such a form should be displayed proudly.”
Pan giggled. That seemed to be the only thing her own apprentice-of-sorts seemed to mind. As long as everyone was wearing clothing that brought out their natural charm, she was a happy female. The complete disregard of the Paw’s defect was just a bonus, the lack of distaste present making their interactions very much palatable. As she observed the female checking over her own work, Pan felt it curious why someone such as this might have found the wish to join the settlement at all, if only temporarily.
“What brings you here?” the white-furred female prodded politely, her own progress on her garment pausing. The protege tilted her head, the confident smile not faltering as her eyes remained on her work.
“What indeed,” she replied, a light chuckle bringing jubilation to her words. “Where I was stationed before was much the same as many packs; little care was given to how their members looked, or how unhappy they felt donning only what would be sufficient.”
Pan folded her paws on her lap. “That much is understandable. It is hardly a priority when survival is a question.”
The female hummed a disapproving note. “Yes, but there should be time for luxury, no matter how small it may be. Even but a sun feeling as if one’s form is the epitome of beauty can do wonders for the suns without, no?”
The Paw opened her mouth to question the validity of such thoughts, but closed it with a smile when she remembered how far Joseph’s idle complements had carried her through their time here. “You may be correct.”
“I am,” she asserted with a nod as she pulled the last of her line. “But unlike you, those who sought my skills did not think so.” Her expression took on a more dejected tint. “They wished me to suffer that which I never asked for. To be devoid of the joys that my calling afforded me.”
The female stiffened for a moment when Pan laid a paw to her shoulder lightly, relaxing when their eyes met. “If nothing else, you are welcome to pursue such joys with us for the duration of your stay. I am sure many will sing your praise for it as well.”
She smiled—weakly at first, but growing more genuine after a moment. “Perhaps. I must say, it was surprising to find another designer like myself.”
Pan laughed. “I am not something deserving of such respect. I merely held a small storefront for some time before the draft.”
“Oh?” The female flicked an ear, a brow raised. “Your work is what I would expect from Pelz Luxus. Perhaps a branch or sister-company.”
“No, no,” Pan denied with her paws up, her ears drooping to the side as she tried not to remember losing the place she had worked so hard to get. “I would have never been accepted by a multi-world brand, my condition assured that.”
The doubtful stare from the female was maintained for a while before she hummed her dismissal, the shirt she had finished folded and placed aside as she fetched more material to work on lower-wear for the outfit. “I would have hired you. It pains me somewhat to see such talent wasted otherwise. From what I have seen, you would have done remarkable work as one of my designers.”
The Paw laughed politely. “You owned a business before this?”
The female blinked. “Pelz Luxus.”
It was Pan’s turn to be taken aback. “You are...”
“Was the owner and top designer, yes,” she confirmed with a smirk. “It matters little now, what with the Union ravishing my buildings and sending us to war.” She paused to look at Pan. “You would have made a delightful addition. I’m sure your business reflected that.”
When the white-furred seamstress’ smile was marred by subtle tears that built up as she recalled all the work she had gone through to buy her store, only to have it burned to the ground before she could ever do much with it. The brown-furred female laid her task to the side, slowly rising from her seat to embrace the tearful Paw, lightly rubbing her back.
“Oh, you poor thing,” she cooed, the genuine concern in her voice causing Pan to laugh as she returned the hug.
“Do you miss your business?”
The female paused, separating to look down at Pan with worry. “I miss the joy of creating, yes. Not what became of it.”
Pan sniffled, apologizing for the unsightly break in composure, though it was dismissed just as quickly. “What became of it? Before the Union.”
“There comes a point where reputation becomes power,” the female explained wistfully, a sardonic smile donned as she reclaimed her seat. “When creativity and art become formulaic and monetized beyond expectations. When will and whimsy become bastardized and tainted. There were many designs submitted by my staff that needed to be turned down for little reason other than that it would not sell well across the parts of the system, stores already having excess localized specialties. I grew disdainful of the process as each decision was driven less by the beauty, and more by the profits my investors sought. Many talented individuals broken and scorned as the fruits of their labours were discarded time after time through no fault of their own.”
She picked up the material she had selected, cutting it to measure as her expression carried a melancholic edge.
“Of course, being as powerful as I was, in a way, I was seen as a figure of authority the moment we stepped off our shuttle onto this planet.” She placed down the scrap material and threaded some palm through her quill, deftly stitching as her eyes wandered the air as if the act was as natural as breathing. “Well, when others assume you their better, even more seek your direction. I grew weary of it quickly. I saw the offer by your mate as an opportunity to ‘return to form’, as it were. Return to the suns of making clothing by paw, just because I thought someone would look lovely wearing them. To return to when my art was an expression of myself, rather than a pursuit of gain.”
Pan smiled, fascinated by the ease the female manipulated the material without even looking, her only feedback to her progress being the touch of it on her pads. “I hardly see the need for you to lower yourself to one such as myself in this area.”
“Not so,” the female countered with a chuckle. “Though I may have more experience overall, you know every fibre of the material you created, and you hold a passion I had once forgotten. Where I had to make do with leathers and sinew, you have discovered methods and properties of things I would have waited a rather long time to have my pack humour.”
“Your pack?” Pan tilted her head at the possessive implication in the way she said it. Her eyes widened when she made the connection. “Grand Huntress Idee?”
Idee chucked into her paw. “I was wondering how long it would take one of you to notice. But, no, not anymore. I abdicated my position some suns before I began my journey here.”
“What...what of your mates?”
The former Grand Huntress gave a sorrowful smile. “They loved my power, it seems. Not me. Well, they cared more to take over the pack in my absence than to see me foolishly pursue some possible fulfillment within a pack not of my own.”
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Pan fell silent, sympathetic to the plights of the female, but unsure how to assure her. Idee huffed a defeated laugh.
“I take it you would follow your mate were he to wish nothing else to do with his position?”
“He never has,” the white-furred female replied with a hint of pride. “But he continues because he cares for those who seek him.”
Idee flipped her project, pulling the last few stitches taut. “Will you fault him when can no longer bear the weight placed upon him?”
“It is our duty as his pack to ensure such never comes to pass,” Pan asserted firmly. “If it does, it would be our fault, not his.”
The female finished the garment, inspecting it briefly before folding and storing it with the other piece. “I suppose I should be disappointed that he has been too busy to meet with me then,” she commented teasingly. “He sounds like an interesting male.”
“I would be happy to arrange it,” Pan offered as she considered how late in the sun it was. Joseph was taking the time to visit some places around the settlement, but all it would take is a whistle and one of the girls would pass along the request.
“I am in no rush,” Idee countered with a wave of her paw. “It would be arrogant of me to simply expect the Grand Hunter to appear before someone of the lowest station.”
Pan giggled, shaking her head when the female seemed confused. “I forget that many arrive here without knowing what he is, especially since Sahari has taken over on-boarding.”
“Strange?”
“Alien.”
She laughed harder at Idee’s expression.
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“Teach me assassin stuff!” Harrow demanded as she wandered into the kitchen, only glancing for a moment to ensure she hadn’t just informed whoever to the Blade’s past unbidden. Tel ignored her outburst, her knife sliding from point to point as she prepared the next meal.
“I believe my male has already denied such.”
“Come on, Tel. Please?” she continued as she pulled a stool to sit across the island table, her crossed arms dropping on it and a chin completing the stack. Tel raised a brow.
“Why?”
“I just...” Harrow lowered her gaze, unable to maintain eye contact. “I just don’t want Joe to get hurt because of me again.”
“And you believe learning the intricacies of a Blade would change that?”
Her muzzle opened, but no words came out. Tel snorted, placing the strips of meat to the side before putting a large bowl of vegetables in the sink to wash them.
Though the variety wasn’t quite what she would have liked, it was variety nonetheless. The three viable results of Astra’s agriculture so far had lovingly been dubbed ‘potato’, ‘parsnip’, and ‘cabbage’ by Joseph, though he complained that the ‘potato’ was the only food to taste similar to its namesake. Although she never quite understood the connections he made between foreign items and their Earth counterparts, she did internally find it somewhat endearing to see his range of emotions dealing with them. She could practically feel his disappointment on occasion, and it only made laughing at it that much better.
“His protection is not your duty, Harrow. It was the oversight of myself and the Wraiths that allowed him injury.”
“But if I wasn’t so useless I might have been able to get out of the way so that he didn’t need to almost get himself killed,” the orange-furred female protested adamantly, a fragile tint to her tone. Tel tipped the bowl to drain the water before moving it back to the table for dicing, picking out a conical vegetable to cut first.
“His goal for your accompaniment was to assist in medical aid, not combat. He placed his faith in his weapons to remove what might bring harm upon you, and that faith was betrayed.” The grey-furred female faltered in her rhythmic chopping, the rocking of her blade slowing to a standstill. “Your use is ensuring we are armed to do those duties better than we would be able otherwise. Allow the fault of the failures to rest with us.”
Harrow started, the slightly concerned frown when dealing with the cook still ever present. “You’ve changed.”
“Time changes us all,” she replied disinterestedly, sliding the small cubes into a pot and fetching another vegetable.
“No, not that,” the female denied, each word dragging out. She raised a claw, bobbing it in Tel’s direction. “Why were you so worked up when Joseph locked himself away?”
Tel paused, furrowing her brow. “I worry for his safety.” She stared for a moment longer before lowering her gaze to her work, the soft chops filling the air again. “He is also my mate, it would be strange if I did not dislike being apart from him.”
Harrow hummed, a look of doubt returned. She exhaled before flopping her arm back onto the table. “Can’t you teach me something?”
A loud clack punctuated the annoyed glance. “You won’t leave me alone until I agree, will you?”
“I'm still making that thing for Joe,” she replied, a hint of a grin on her muzzle.
Tel flicked her tail, a long silence building the tension between them. Shunting her eyes closed, she exhaled heavily through her nose. “Grab a knife.”
“YAY!” Harrow shouted, her arms flung skyward.
“You’re helping me prepare this.”
“Are you going to teach me?”
She rolled her eyes at Harrow’s hopeful tone as she slid a cutting board over. “I suppose I can afford to show you some things. Later. It’ll just be bits and pieces since my male doesn’t wish me to impart much upon you.”
Harrow accepted the board, grabbing another knife and copying Tel’s chopping to the best of her ability, her excitement reigned in, but still vibrating though her. “Still ‘yay.’”
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Scarlet entered the barn, an idle scan revealing Faye seated in front of the wolf enclosure, her quiet speech a surprise, given her usually reticent nature. From what could be parsed at this distance, it seemed to be a fairly sombre retelling of her memories before the Selections. A loving, if poor, den trying their best to support the kits. A debt that was incurred to Avalon, then the repayment being the same kits it was meant to aid.
“I do not fault them,” Faye admitted softly, her gaze halted from wandering towards the enclosed animals, “but I do wish I would have been able to say goodbye.”
“I believe many would,” Scarlet commented, Faye snapping a paw to her weapons. Noticing who it was she was about to loose her new ‘ballistic knife’ on, she quickly replaced her paw to her lap, bowing her head in apology.
“Ah, Scarlet, forgive me.”
“There is nothing to forgive, Faye,” she assured the dark gold-furred female, walking until she was standing close enough to see into the pen. The two wolves eyed her distrustfully, erring towards the side that Faye was sitting rather than the back corner. “Befriending the predators?”
The female nodded bashfully. “The master mentioned his people did as much long ago with a species that was visually similar. I had overheard his musing and asked if he believed such would be possible with these.”
“And he suggested earning their sympathy?”
“No,” she denied, a slight blush to her cheeks. “He suggested that it would be best to acclimate them to our presence.”
Scarlet nodded with a raised brow, an ear flicking in her curiosity. “What might have brought that suggestion forward?”
Faye averted her eyes, her ears fluttering in an unexpected display of emotion. “He mentioned your growing affinity with the avians.”
“And you thought he would think more of you if you gained a relationship with these two?”
She nodded, a slight fidgeting leading to her fixing her apron, the multitude of spring-loaded knives glimpsed through the momentary gap. Though Scarlet would rather her weapons to remain in one piece, each of the ones Faye was allotted with was personally crafted by the master when she voiced her preference for a melee weapon that could be used for range when required.
It was apparently the result of several suns of testing, but the male seemed far too proud of the result for anyone to say anything about the strangeness of the weapons. Even though it might have taken Faye a while to get used to them, once she did, she seemed perfectly happy and could be seen dissembling them regularly for maintenance with a smile on her face.
“Have you made much progress?” Scarlet asked, noticing a lack of seating within the barn, not that she particularly expected such to be around. Faye pointed to some logs that had not been fully processed yet, responding as she dragged one over to rest upon.
“They seem less wary of me after I fed them. I only began speaking earlier, but they don’t seem to be as startled as I expected,” she answered with a glance past the thick barrier between her and the wolves. Both seemed more concerned with the dark-red-furred female, so that seemed to support her assumption. “What of yourself and the birds?”
“I think they expect food whenever I am around.”
“Do you feed them when you are?”
Scarlet chuckled. “Yes, though that is a habit the young mistress imparted.”
Faye smiled, fetching some jerky she kept in a sealed pouch and offering it to the wolves. They hesitantly approached, sniffing the offered treat before lightly clamping their teeth on it, their eyes watching the dark-gold-furred female for sudden movements. Slowly, they pulled it free, the second wolf going through the same process and retreating a distance before eating.
“I find it strange,” Faye commented as she watched the two animals consume their meal.
“How so?”
“Would you have considered befriending these before meeting the master?”
Scarlet frowned as she thought about it. “Likely not, they’re just animals.”
“Yes, but not to him.”
She tilted her head, an ear flopping freely. “How so?”
“He seemed genuinely remorseful when I suggested that we merely raise them for slaughter,” Faye explained. “’I don’t think I could spend all that time getting to know them just to drop the axe,’ he said. It sounded like he would come to care too deeply to wantonly end their lives.”
“You suggest that his thinking has changed your own?”
“Perhaps,” Faye allowed quietly, a warm smile appearing as one of the wolves lay to rest closer to the front of the enclosure than either of them expected. “Perhaps he has merely allowed me to consider the world as more than merely targets and allies.”
Scarlet nodded, a part of her humming in agreement with the sentiment. “We will never just be people; not after becoming Blades and Wraiths.”
“No, but perhaps a Wraith may actually live,” the female whispered softly.
“Perhaps,” she agreed, a feeling of belonging settling in. Once a mere tool—a weapon to be brought to bear against one’s enemies—they had abandoned their moniker and taken upon a new one to reflect their change in forging.
They no longer lay in waiting upon dusty shelves, silently pleading to find one who would truly use and care for them. Now, they polished their own edge and the world around them with subtle effect, manipulating their environment to make it safer and more hospitable for those who wished them well.
Though the exercises in cleaning and aide work were likely meant to ease the time between their more central duties, it had actually given them a sense of agency. They could do small acts and others would thank them. They could assist their betters and their betters could assist them in kind.
The world was no longer meaningless between orders and targets, for they could interact with it once again without an alternative motive.
Perhaps that is why the ‘girls’ had found themselves willingly interacting with animals and the pack as a whole. Sure, those who knew them thought of them as assistants to the Grand Hunter, but even the few of the master’s den treated them kindly, and they were fully aware of their nature.
A wolf yawned, Faye smiling as she watched the second wolf ease next to its kin to rest as well. Scarlet couldn’t help but mirror the expression when she imagined the young mistress’ reaction to two of the deadly predators seeming so comfortable.
“Perhaps he has changed us.”
Faye nodded softly. “Perhaps.”
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The ever-expanding black of the abyss spread over his monitors, the lack of star formations or gas clouds leaving the view rather boring—just as it had been for quite a few suns, as artificial as the cycle was. He exhaled a breath and blinked off the threat of an early rest, his waking shift far from over.
They were on a patrol route amongst the lesser travelled sections outside of Lilhun space, their objective being to clear each part as they went so that the main forces were permitted to begin expansion in those directions. Perhaps, a few generations ago, it was a task of ignorant ease—a smaller crew of overly-armed military squads given assault cruisers and sent off to fly through space, little concern for enemy forces nor the demise of an entire species weighing them down.
Now, since the Galactic Union—or ‘Union’ as they wished to be called—had made their hostile intent known, Willin was left to attempt watchfulness while also staring at absolutely nothing, instead of the rumoured suns of levity and relaxation the position used to have attached to it. Not that he was regretting his assignment; playing even a small part in easing the future of his people filled him with pride, he just wished something would happen already. Anything, really.
“Incoming communication.”
Willin jolted in his seat at the announcement, sleep apparently winning the battle until that point. “Source?”
“Unknown. No encryption.”
He frowned as he adjusted in his seat, a hasty tug of his pants freeing his foot as he reached for his boots. “Format?”
The Communications Officer paused as they examined the information on their screen, furrowing their brow the longer they read. “Seems to be a mix of code and parsement.”
The information made him pause, one foot barely inserted into its receptacle. “Parsement? We haven’t used that since the war between Idros and Geras.”
The officer shrugged, vaguely waving a paw at their monitor. “It is a part of our training. I am more surprised that it is seeing use at all.”
Willin stood from his chair, his uniform jacket rustling as he fixed the sleeve, his dark green fur contrasting the custom black fabric and gold trim. “That implies it’s from one of our own. Origin?”
“Hard to say without cracking it open, Leader. Permission to accept?”
“Granted,” he replied slowly with a nod, unease settling. “Actually, Tech?”
An artificially purple-furred Lilhun leaned back in her chair, her audio interface caught by a paw as it threatened to slip off her head. A robotic voice came from the synthesizer built into the mask she wore over her muzzle, her vocal chords having been deadened since birth. “Leader?”
“Scan the incoming packet.”
“Will do.”
Turning to the rest of the small bridge, he waved Navigation to slow their heading. He wanted to be able to turn tail if this turned out to be a trap. After a while, Tech raised a paw, waving it to give the ‘all clear.’
Comms nodded, swiping a claw over the interface and activating a few extra protections just in case. Tech would make sure that nothing would screw with their systems—if anyone knew EW on their ship, it was her—but she also tended to overlook smaller things that were just mild inconveniences to her. Willin supposed that should be expected from a female who was arguably more robot than Lilhun, but he wasn’t about to openly complain. Not while she still had access to the ship’s fabricators, anyway.
Satisfied that they were going to catch anything Tech ignored, Comms tapped a few commands, bringing the file up for processing. “Accepting. Translation will take a moment.”
Willin walked around the room after gesturing his approval, trusting Comms to deal with decoding the message. Though he could do it himself, he would rather not waste the time doing so when someone else could do it better, faster, and with less swearing.
“Leader,” the officer called out, waiting until Willin was standing next to them before pointing to a translated readout. Though it was more manageable than the mess it had been, it was still sorted into whatever new mess that Comms—and no one else—could understand. “It seems as if one of our Habitation ships was taken out.”
“Enemy?”
“Possible,” they responded loosely, though the questioning expression directed towards the screen bore no confidence. “They were heading to eight-six-eight-nine-eight. Purported Communications Officer Keet reports a warp-spike with additional Electronic-Warfare capability was installed in their path, frying everything when they got too close.”
“Dead in the air?” Willin questioned. Warp-spikes were nasty equipment unmodified, designed to rip a ship out of warp with no concern for the safety of the occupants. Adding EW to one was basically killing whatever happened to pass by. It was blanket hostility and sanctioned against for a reason.
“Negative. A fraction of the crew were able to disembark on a nearby habitable planet, but the ship itself was compromised and destroyed. They are requesting aid. Preferably a carrier.”
Willin snorted. “Carrier? They want an entire annex unit to come help? How many survived?”
“Unknown, but there they have established a limited number of Grand Hunter packs, so my guess is around a thousand. Wildlife is reported as highly hostile, but kill-able.”
“Grand Hunter packs,” the green-furred male mused aloud. “No Master or Grand Master?”
“No, Leader.”
Willin exhaled slowly. “Is anyone else within range?”
“Tech?”
Tech gestured understanding, spinning up her station to pulse for friendlies. Not receiving an affirmative, she shook her head, the audio interface slipping slightly and allowing her unashamedly loud music to blare through the air before she adjusted it. Leader Willin flicked his tail in annoyance.
“Comms, repeat the message through the channels, priority. See if we can’t get some support there. We’ll need EW to find and disable the spike and possibly another Habitation ship. Sounds like they’ve made do with the environment, might be in our best interest to set up there too.”
“Affirmative, passing it along.”
“Good,” he replied with a nod, turning on his pad to return to his seat so that the others wouldn’t see his grin of excitement. Years. Years he had been waiting for something interesting to happen. It wasn’t quite the war he was promised when they drove off the Union—those Void-lovers had disappeared as quickly as they had shown up—but it was at least something. It was a chance to be a real hero, if only for some poor stranded souls.
That was enough.
“Leader,” Comms called out. “The message was repeated. Replacement scout is en route to cover our patrol.”
“Good work, set coordinates and let’s go help those people. We might not be able to bring them home, but we can arm them to make the bitey animals a little less inclined to nibble until more friends show up. Nav, ETA?”
Nav plugged in their expected route, their tone telling that they had almost lost the fight against sleep as well. “Thirty suns, Geras standard. Twenty-five if we go full burn.”
“Go standard, we’ll have time to plan then,” Willin decided with a grin. “We’ll want to make a good impression.”