CHAPTER 26 - THE COLLECTIVES

While the ship's drive recharged, Rachel tried her best to do whatever little research the ship's combat-focused equipment allowed. She did manage to observe gravitational lensing of a faint star, after a long time of fiddling with zoom settings. Obviously, the black hole was too small to properly distort the starfield behind itself, but as she looked closely towards where the singularity must have been, and analyzed the shape of one of the background stars, she noticed that it was ever-so-slightly deformed.

Kuw, on the other hand, did not see the difference. It was so minute that if one was to view the feed via an Age-of-Protests-era screen, the change in shape would not have been discernible at all. But the near-microscopic pixels of modern screens allowed people with enhanced or highly trained eyes, such as Rachel, to see it.

"Ya are such a nerd, sweetie," Kuw giggled.

"Yes I am, and I'm proud of it," Rachel said as she noted down the exact degree of distortion.

Soon, Kuw and Rachel were once again the only two left in the command room. Patch went to the engineering room to ensure the integrity of the cooling subsystem, while the others simply returned to sleep.

Not much else happened in the serene atmosphere.

1 May 2231

Oddly enough, the warp hallucinations were near-silent during the jump away from the unusual object.

"Do ya remember it being it this quiet before we bumped into it?" Kuw said, tapping her fingers on the desk and humming in order to imitate the tones, to which she had gotten used to.

"Dunno, I was distracted by setting up the game. I suppose something about the singularity might affect whatever causes the voices," Rachel said.

"So vague? I thought ya'd have a better gueeeess."

Patch beeped. "Rachel should not feel bad: that is close to the current limit of scientific knowledge about superluminal psychodistortions."

"At least this will make this long warp more tolerable, won't it?" Rachel nodded.

Kuw snorted. "Whaddya mean, ya don't like being told weird and inappropriate things by cartoon characters from your childhood?"

"It was kinda funny the first hundred times," Rachel said. "You at least get some… music…? To zone out to. At least I don't have warp sickness. You can't be in the military with it anyways. But I heard stories from my civvie friend Kitani, who for very personal reasons had to go between systems despite having acute WS," she paused and grimaced.

"...what haaaappened?" Kuw tilted her head.

"You know, you said one of your children…"

"Buonoukiu is my nephew!"

Rachel coughed. "Sorry. Yes. You said he did not handle the warp well. Well, Kitani also did not handle it too well. Imagine the most unspeakable, disturbing, traumatizing, gory thing you have ever witnessed or can think of. Multiply that tenfold, and imagine it piercing through every single neuron of your brain. For many hours."

Kuw put her hand over her own muzzle.

"...Kitani decided to settle down on that planet, and pay to move all his old property over to his new home. After he recovered, at least. It wasn't pretty. I saw a video of him that he sent two days after he arrived at the destination– that's four days after exiting at the warp boundary, mind… and he was… empty. He did become somewhat functional again, but there is still an odd glimmer in his eyes, after all these years. And something is off with the way he smiles."

"...my gods, why didn't they put him iiiin an induced coma?"

"You see, that was tried, more than a century ago. On test animals, of course. A few rats, a lizard, a fish, and a dog, all of which had shown signs of extreme distress in warp and thus were determined to have the sickness. They were sedated, and the ship started its jump," she paused. "When it exited, the test subjects' brains were mush."

Kuw simply stared at her pink-furred hands.

Patch then beeped. "You know, if only more humans were like the inhabitants of the TRAPPIST Autonomous Sector, this would not have been an issue."

"...I heard of that name a while ago, but I don't know much of it," Rachel said.

"Sector's population is split between: AIs, embodied and disembodied; full-body cyborgs, brains in jars inside robotic bodies; and Digitals, who gradually replaced most of their brains with electronics."

"Right. I suppose that would remove warp sickness and replace it with the static you feel. But, you see, I would never want to replace most of my body with metal… neither would the majority of the population. It just feels wrong in a way genemodding doesn't. I dunno, call it a primal instinct to not have weird things stuck in your body. Also, it leads to personality charges due to hormone imbalance."

"And yet you intentionally had parts of a much-different genus permanently grafted to your body?" Patch queried.

"It's different when it's meat. Oh and I didn't even graft it, I inherited it."

"Very irrational to be fine with this and not that, but I understand by now," Patch pinged.

***

The end of the second shift was nigh, with Elektra making herself comfortable in the room. Nevertheless, Artur was at the weapons console, ready and caffeinated.

When the ship exited warp, he did not even jolt. The other two, however, did. The slap was present once again, now accompanied by the hull shaking in an unsaf-eseeming way, and an odd buzzing in the ears of every organic.

"What's happening these past few jumps, Patch?" Elektra said.

"Our Ugolnikov drive is not a normal model, remember. It has a very limited lifespan at the cost of a very low refractory period. The orb-tinkering modification may have increased it, or decreased it, but in either case, it was never meant to last more than the duration of the mission. Mission duration: ending soon," the robot replied in its usual monotone.

"I see. Here's hoping it doesn't give up the ghost before we get there."

"I will ensure that situation doesn't happen."

Rachel nodded and turned towards her console, giving her usual report.

This system, apparently called Bukzymz, was a trinary red dwarf. Three small, reddish stars chaotically circled around each other, with no apparent order. The only things preventing them from crashing into each other were their small size and weak gravity. A few frigid planets orbited a fair distance away from the cluster, where the stars' pulls averaged out into an approximation of a sun thrice as massive, yet still tiny compared to non-red-dwarf systems. Nothing could be close by, however: an inner planet would end up being ejected out of the system or slowed down by the many protuberances of the tripled red dwarfs, thus spiraling towards its impending doom.

The system was apparently in a state of civil war between two rival collectives, but thankfully, unlike with the glubb-enn, the fleets were not right in front of the Pheidippides' trajectory. The akyzh ships were very large, but not in the way bquaa ships were: they were narrow and extremely long, almost needle-like in proportions. They turned slowly to avoid being torn apart, of course, but their broadsides packed a true wallop as bright, rain-like streaks of missile volleys and invisible yet deadly showers of lasers, particle beams, and macrons, which manifested only when there was a hit. And when one projectile did connect, it looked almost exactly the same as a missile impact: a bright flash in which possibly hundreds of lives were lost in an instant. There were dozens of ships.

"So we just stay out of the way and everything will be okaaaay?" Kuw said.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

"Yeah," Artur said. "Just look at the fireworks, I suppose."

And look they did, with a great feeling of anxiety, uncertainty, and the fear of being targeted by a poorly-programmed heat-seeking missile.

Jamaad walked in around an hour into the transit, dispelling the fog-like atmosphere of stress.

"You don't seem like you are getting much sleep recently, sir," Elektra said after saluting him.

Jamaad shrugged. "I'll make up for it after this is over. No big deal."

"As you wish."

The scout was passing fairly close by to two akyzh fleets engaged in a pitched, even battle. Every few minutes, a combatant vessel vanished in a cloud of debris and superheated metal vapor.

Suddenly, a call rang on the comms screen. The flagship of one of the sides of this battle apparently wanted to talk. A small battleship named Kbyl. Kuw immediately accepted, of course.

A flat, segmented body waved and twisted through the lower part of the screen, its black lamellar-like plates glimmering with both their natural gloss and scores of embedded gems. A head that more resembled a carnivoran one than an insect one, yet still covered in segmented plates, was graced by a bifurcated dog-like muzzle with jutting, large teeth. Three eyes, each narrow yet vertically-oriented, gaped as black voids: two below the akyzh's butterfly-esque antennas, and one between the muzzles. The antennas and teeth were, too, adorned with gemstones. Emerging from right below the alien's thick neck were two fleshy, oily, muscular arms with purplish skin and four almost-human fingers dripping with ichor. Their tail resembled that of an earwig, with two prongs. A brightly glowing cyan sphere, clearly artificial, hung from both of the prongs, illuminating the creature's face as its tail end curved towards their head.

"Terrans?" A synthesized, androgynous voice blared. "What is a lone Terran ship doing here?!"

Kuw introduced herself, finishing with her usual catchphrase. By then, she had honed it to perfection. After this, she thought for a bit. "What is your name?" the relmai said.

"Call me Vhokk Mkyajzi. An outsiders' name… You're on a mission? I see you have weapons. Would you pause your mission to help us win this battle?" they grinned.

"I'm sorry but–"

"Our missiles are faster than your ship. We have enough to overwhelm any turrets. Would you pause your mission to help us win this battle?" they grinned harder.

"...are we being coerced?" Kuw tilted her head.

"Yes. You are. Pause your mission. And help us win the battle. Now," Vhokk hissed. "Our ships are the ones with blue-striped hull markings and regular transponder pings. Those with other markings and less regular pings are the enemy. All of them. We are fighting against them all because we want to be stronger and we can be stronger. All of them. Shoot non-blues. All of them. Or we will shoot you. And we will outrun and overwhelm you. Understood?"

"...understood, but that is not how you…" the comms officer turned to look at Jamaad. The captain's face was obscured by his palm.

Jamaad sighed, barely-contained anger visible underneath his calm exterior. "I suppose we have no other option. Patch, change course towards the nearest fray of combat! But stay on the periphery. Do not go into particle beam range."

"Good, good… you won't get away if you try. I or my phero-servant, or my phero-servant's phero-servant, will tell you when you can go."

The akyzh captain hung up without saying goodbye, or letting Kuw say goodbye.

"Why were they soooo impolite?" Kuw said.

"When one can impose their will on those who the dice of nature arbitrarily declared weaker, one does not really need politeness," Jamaad said. "I think we can pull this off without a real hitch."

The ship began turning, not ceasing its acceleration.

Artur cracked his knuckles, with a metallic sound. "I assume we'll have to spend our missiles, though?"

Jamaad nodded. "Yes. Make sure they're precise shots. And don't use the best ones. Even a bad missile, if properly guided, can help turn the tide of the battle."

Rachel was stressedly examining the readings on the screen right as the ship finished its turn and started approaching the battle straight ahead. "Fifteen blue-striped akyzh ships of varying sizes. Seven red-dotted ships of the same civilization, all destroyer-sized. Five green-zig-zagged needles, the largest one of them a dreadnought twice as large as the Kbyl. One without markings, cruiser-sized. And the last… a frigate of Canid make, still with the wolf-claw markings?! There is lots of loose debris and stray ordnance. High concentrations even at missile range."

"Wait, a WHAT?" Artur howled.

"I have no idea how that thing ended up here. I don't know much about Canid ships but it doesn't look like a hijacked Civil-War-era vessel of the kind the Partisans used, so it has to be recent," Rachel shrugged.

"Kuw, call them up please!" he shouted.

She selected the frigate, Stellar Dagger IV. It looked much like a Terran ship, but bristled with far more weapons, and consequently had utterly gigantic radiators. These weapons, unlike the relatively small Terran emplacements, jutted out visibly, their barrels gleaming in the triple starlight.

Rachel leaned over to Kuw's ear. "You know, I wonder if they are, uh, compensating…"

Kuw snorted, but the nerve-wracking nature of the situation prevented her from truly processing the raunchy joke. Indeed, her expression was soon washed away by the realization that the ship was not responding. They did not even refuse the call. Repeated calls made no effect.

"I suggest you should stop bothering them," Jamaad said.

"Do we really have to shoot at my fellows?" Artur lamented.

"Likely scenario: ship is not crewed by Canids. Likely crew: akyzh-cci, or even automated," Patch intoned.

Artur sighed. "...I hope that's the case?"

"Entering missile effective range!" Rachel shouted. Patch immediately made a very hard turn, so intense that the Pheidippides' superstructure could be heard groaning.

"Careful with that!" Jamaad said. "Now, Rachel, name the most vulnerable hostiles!"

"The green dreadnought, Rkuazvnyz, has damaged engines and will turn even slower! A red destroyer, Mnytyfh, apparently has a destroyed PD system! And the marker-less cruiser with the blank transponder has two busted radiators. But it's out of the fray and is barely posing a threat."

All the while, the Pheidippides' own point-defense could be heard shooting down various metal chunks and fragments of disabled missiles, with unsettling regularity.

Jamaad thought. "Mnytyfh will not last long anyways, if this is how things are outside of the battle. Let's not waste anything on them. The cruiser is low priority. The dreadnought is likely being focused on already… but… what's the state of its PD, Rachel? And the cruiser's PD?"

"The dreadnought is defending very well! But the cruiser seems to have just barely enough coverage to blow up debris."

Jamaad rubbed his forehead as he thought. "No other good targets?"

"We're very likely to have our missile shot down if we go for anyone not on that list," Rachel said.

"Right. Where are Rkua's PD turrets?"

"Looks like full coverage."

Jamaad reclined in his chair, and reasoned aloud. "There are two clear courses of action here. We could try and attack the unmarked cruiser with one of the lower-grade missiles: the vapor lance, the neutron bomb, or the uranium slug. But then we will not contribute much to the battle even if we do blow it up. Or, we might go for the jackpot and spend one of the good missiles on the dreadnought. Magsail slug, or the particle beam bomb; both will bypass any point defense, especially an already strained one. This is likely to get the blues to win, but then we will be down an important tool."

"We'll still have one more," Artur said. "I say, attack the 'nought."

"Are you sure we won't need it?" the captain said.

"We still have more normal missiles. Can launch them in a barrage if anything. And besides, sir, what use is there for those big ones if we just hoard the fuckers and end up finishing the mission with them still in our magazine?"

"You have a point. Fire at will, but only one! Patch, begin evasives in twenty seconds!" Jamaad shouted. "BRACE! BRACE!" he added, now talking through the public intercom.

Artur contemplated which missile to use. The beam-bomb was the obvious choice, being well and truly impossible to dodge or shoot down, and the thin shape of the akyzh ships would mean that a direct hit would definitely bisect even the comparatively bulky dreadnought. On the other hand, it was a true superweapon. Perhaps it could have been better used later? Meanwhile, the magsail would launch a heavy slug at not-quite-relativistic speeds. It was possible to shoot it down, but in that case the cloud of fragments would still have done massive damage. But the most major issue was that, due to the overwhelming static of ECM that fuzzed much of the battle, the shell could end up missing its target.

The ship suddenly rocked.

"Warnng: third drive nozzle nicked by macron cloud! No immediate damage, but we must treat this as pressure!" Patch alerted.

"Harsher evasives!" Jamaad hollered, then switched to the engineering intercom. "Temo, Grant, IMMEDIATELY engage overdrive as much as is safe!"

A few meters down, the two engineers were already trying their best to squeeze performance from the propulsion systems. The ever-increasing urgency of the situation drove them into a panic, however.

Radd paced back and forth between beeping consoles and hissing valves, frantically recalling every bit of knowledge he had. He adjusted a red-handled lever ever so slightly downwards, letting the engines adjust. His coworker was beside him, hastily duct-taping a leaking pipe that burst due to the prolonged strain of the mission.

One more grazing hit.

It merely plowed a streak through the Whipple shield. Yet it still tilted the ship, and with it the crew block.

Radd Grant's hand slipped, and he pulled the lever all the way down.

He was slammed to the floor as the deafening roar of the drives turned into an ongoing mechanical shriek.