CHAPTER 30 - DARKNESS

"I have a bad feeling about this," Elektra said.

Kuw shushed her, and called up the approaching peyrhyll vessel. They immediately picked up the request.

"Greetings, Terrans and relmai!" a high-pitched voice blared from the static-filled screen. "This is Uom Basyyhr, fourth-and-a-half under-middle-captain of the Bvayr Juzri of the Mnyl branch of the Lakba Organization. How are you feeling this fine day-cycle?"

There was no video feed, so Kuw and Rachel weren't sure if it was synthesized or not. But given the non-humanoid nature of the peyrhyll, the voice most likely was at least altered to remove an intrusive accent.

Kuw wanted to immediately tell them to inform her of the reason for the lack of a video, or at least turn on their ship's transponder, so that she could see who they were talking to or verify their ship's identity, but remembered that the peyrhyll really valued politeness. So instead, she merely introduced herself and the mission, with even fewer details than what was usual.

Patch focused its lenses on the comms console. Its emotional registry increased its 'suspicion' value.

Elektra just squinted. That foreboding feeling did not leave her in the slightest.

And Rachel simply looked at the sensor readings. The ship was only a little larger than the Pheidippides, but its elongated yet rounded chromed hull bristled with dozens of weapons of all kinds, and was trailed by such a massive engine that she was sure it could easily out-accelerate the scout ship, especially over short distances. It was very, very close by space standards. She took a mental note of that.

Uom fumbled with some kind of equipment at the other end of the transmission. "I must inform you that Peyr Lakba has instated a fee, or rather a mandatory trade, for all foreign travelers, regardless of creed or purpose. It is not a monetary fee. We kindly request that you donate three-fourths of your fuel to our cause. As compensation, we will pay you half of the price of the fuel we took, according to our best information on the Terran Federation's economy. It is, frankly, a better deal than what you may find in nearby sectors…"

Kuw sighed softly and turned to look behind herself. "What are our fuel reserves, Patch?"

The robot emitted a low drone. "Only barely enough to make it to Ilsh-Vusbaw, when accounting for likely evasive manuevers in near-future conflicts."

"We cannot fulfill your request," Kuw said. "Let us go. We don't need the money."

Rachel rolled up her uniform's sleeves and leaned into her relmai partner's ear. "Agree to their request, sweetie. Agree to it now."

"Why? I'm the aaacting captain, I get to–"

"Do it. Do it if you love me. I have a plan."

Kuw has grown to trust Rachel. Even if the sensors officer did not have much diplomatic training, her being this persistent surely meant she saw something Kuw did not.

The relmai nodded and pretended to look at a screen to the side that did not actually exist. "Actually nevermind, I looked at our resources and it turns out that Patch– that robot in the background– was wrong. We can fulfill your request," she smiled, and did so very, very convincingly.

"Very well," Uom said. The screen was still filled with static. "We will be approaching for a rendezvous now. Thank you for doing business with us."

"You too. Thanks for being reasonable."

The feed shut off.

Elektra clutched the sides of her head. "We'll be stranded here! Kuw, what have you done? Did he sway you? Did he use some kind of metatech trigger that works on relmai?"

Kuw shook her head. Now that she was not forced to put up a mask, she was distraught. "Rachel told me."

Rachel turned back from the comms display, which she had been studying intently in the heat-map mode. Her normally-soft facial features seemed much harsher as she grinned like a maniac and played with her fingers.

It was only a 45 minutes ETA for the rendezvous, even with the peyrhyll being careful about it.

"What did you say?" Elektra asked her. The empath-genemod had a beginning of a hunch.

"You'll find out."

"I want to find out now," Elektra insisted.

"Less than an hour ain't much. You won't die of impatience."

Kuw didn't say a word. Patch didn't say a word.

Soon, the Bvayr Juzri became visible even on the visual sensors. It was this glimmering egg-shaped ship, somewhat reminiscent of what pre-Space-Age humans thought alien starships would look like, but elliptical instead of saucer-like. A refueling hose was already unspooled, trailing behind it like a singular tassel.

Before anyone could notice anything, Rachel was sitting at Artur's unoccupied weapons console.

She grabbed the twin levers that controlled the particle beams.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!" Kuw and Elektra yelled in unison as they stood up from their seats.

"I'M DOING WHAT HAS TO BE DONE!" Rachel howled as she mashed both buttons as fast as she could. She leaned on the red tips of the levers, as if she thought that pressing harder would make the beams stronger.

ZAP! ZAP! ZAP!... ZAP! ZAP! ZAP!... ZAP! ZAP! ZAP!…

Elektra stopped in her tracks to glance at the comms console, which had a fullscreen visual view of the Bvayr.

Or rather, what used to be the Bvayr. Three large gashes pierced what was the area of the command room. Three other beams must have plowed straight through the main reactor. And the last three seemed to have been aimed at the crew quarters. The weapons were inert. Only a single laser turret seemed to be very, very slowly turning.

The vessel seemed to be mostly intact, but adrift.

Patch was completely motionless and silent.

"They're calling us again!" Kuw said as she turned around and began to sit down at her seat.

Elektra was frantic. She grabbed Rachel's shoulders, but the latter only kicked her in the belly, sending her off her feet. The CMO landed on the cold metal floor with a thud.

ZAP! ZAP! ZAP!... ZAP! ZAP! ZAP!... ZAP! ZAP! ZAP!…

The incoming call ceased, and so did the structural integrity of the peyrhyll ship. The chrome egg was cracked as if over a pan, right in half, with a messy jagged cut. And instead of a yolk and white, out poured people. Most without spacesuits.

And yet Rachel clearly began aiming at them.

Elektra grabbed her ankle and pulled her off the weapons console seat. "What?! The absolute?! Fuck?! We could have found someone to resupply us! We have plenty of money left over! They did not mean to–"

Rachel was unrecognizable in her rage, and she laughed psychotically in Elektra's face instead of replying immediately. "We're THIS close," she pinched her clawed fingers together, leaving only a millimeter between the claw-tips. "I'm not letting some fucking lowlifes delay us even by a day."

"The next system has a few stations! It wouldn't have delayed us by even that long! You just killed over a hundred people…" a tear appeared in Elektra's eye.

Rachel screamed and slammed her fist on the floor several times. "Yes I did! You believe in Hell, right? I hope they're burning there now! They worked with the Sharkteeth! The fuckers who tried to rob my homeland of its heritage! I hope that–"

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Kuw pulled her mate to her feet. "Caaalm down. Please calm down."

And like earlier that day, the unstoppable force of her anger was immediately extinguished by the immovable object of Kuw's embrace. But unlike earlier that day, the fallout was an order of magnitude stronger. Rachel utterly collapsed into a sobbing, whimpering, incoherent mess.

She had just committed a war crime in a fit of rage, over-dedication, and a desire for revenge by proxy. Lots of blood was on her hands now.

Rachel's previous laments were right. This mission, which had started out so well, had slowly destroyed her and turned her into a murderer. But now, instead of mere words, she had put this destruction into action. Premeditated, intentional action. What was she thinking during those forty-five minutes? If only she had reconsidered. If only her inner demons relented even for a second.

Only then did she truly realize how easy it was to kill. To take dozens of lives at once with the mere press of two tiny buttons. These peyrhyll had their own personalities, cherished values, beloved spouses. They were only forced to turn to crime by extreme circumstances decades ago.

And now she would never be able to bring these lives back. These unique, irreplaceable lives.

It was one thing to watch Artur do it, in reaction to an attack. It was another to do it herself, striking first. This ship has committed plenty of acts of perfidy, but in all previous situations, these acts were truly necessary, or at least had far less flimsy justifications.

While contemplating this, she sobbed and wailed.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the opening of a door behind her.

"...what happened here?" Jamaad said.

"I'm a war criminal…" Rachel said. "I'm a worthless bitch. Please throw me out of the airlock."

"...in what way… why?"

Rachel incoherently, blubberingly explained everything that happened in the last hour. Nobody had the will to put it more eloquently– even Patch restrained itself to a mere "As far as I can tell, Rachel did not make factual mistakes during this speech."

"There will be a court-martial. I'm going to prison. We're all going to prison after this. We're fucked. I'm fucked," Rachel finished.

Jamaad sighed. "Sensors Officer Beka," he said in a softer tone than usual. "The shit you did was frankly godawful. In another situation I would have demoted you for… many reasons. From going far above your station to, yes, opening fire without provocation. But you know what? You're under so much stress. We're all under so much stress. You had a reason to believe that we wouldn't make it without a well-fueled tank, even if that could have been proven false with a simple search," he sighed again, louder and deeper, "But there is not a single fucking person on this ship, yes including myself, yes including Patch," the robot could be heard beeping in protest, "who I would trust to be perfectly rational. We all want to go home. I honestly can't blame you for wanting to do it faster. As for the court-martial, they're, as you correctly said, related to a wanted criminal organization. Morally it might be terrible, but you're unlikely to face any serious legal sanctions for killing them…"

And to himself, he thought about how he could not possibly replace her. Not now. Not even if he wanted to.

Rachel brightened up, but only slightly. "This… will stay with me for my whole life. I still can't believe it…"

She contemplated asking Elektra to confine her to the medbay, for rest and recovery. But alas, the mission was not over yet. She was still needed. Thus, Rachel said nothing.

Elektra joined in on the hug.

***

3 May 2231

And so the nameless dwarf planet swung past. The crew remained on edge for any further ambushes, but that gradually gave way to the usual half-dread-half-anticipation that permeated the last stages of the mission.

Rachel had stopped her tears soon after Jamaad's arrival, but the guilt stayed with her. Instead of her usual enthusiasm, she simply went through the motions of working at the sensor console.

Elektra tried her best to lift Rachel's spirits. She was no therapist, but nevertheless, her soft voice and optimism worked to patch up a damaged mental state. But it wasn't nearly enough. She was broken. Kuw, too, tried to spend as much time as she could with Rachel, but she felt that her partner essentially became an empty shell. There was too much stress and too little time for a proper recovery at this point in the mission. Between the increased workload and the mental strain on both of them, they became somewhat distant for the time being.

Patch determined that there was mild overheating damage to the particle beam cannons, but elected to silently fix this disruption as best as it could rather than tell anyone, for fear of putting Rachel in the way or Jamaad or Artur's wrath. It had grown to appreciate the sensors officer, and grown to be able to white-lie by omission if it would be better for the mission's success.

Soon, Artur himself came in, and the ship approached the warp boundary shortly after. It was not, strictly speaking, his and Jamaad's shift, but they broke the usual order altogether, as the next system was what used to be the peyrhyll home. Otyy-doyr Pekyl.

For this mission, it was the gate to Ilsh-Bewruw space and thus a return to very relative sanity and security. But for its original inhabitants, it was a graveyard. Rachel did not ask much about it. Instead, she just sat there, unmoving.

4 May 2231

It was to be a long jump. Thirteen hours. The voices seemed to dissolve into constant screaming, loud and distorted into something utterly inhuman, unrelmai, and indeed immaterial.

Rachel did not dream at all, because she completely failed to fall quite asleep, and not really because of the voices. She simply lay there with closed eyes, breathing monotonously. But instead of the usual dream, all she was was eigengrau, the 'snowy' darkness nearly any organic saw when closing their eyes.

Artur, instead of sitting at his console, was engaging in some light zero-g exercise right in the command room. Somersaults, running in place, air-swimming in circles. There was nothing to shoot at, after all.

Due to not relying on his BCI, he hit the floor at the wrong angle and bounced off. A second later, a clawed foot crashed through the casing of a ceiling light. Fortunately, there were no shards due to its plastic construction. Unfortunately, the lighting was much dimmer now.

Jamaad facepalmed after looking at his weaponmaster with his paw wedged in the lamp, but said nothing. He was good at hiding his tiredness of it all, and preferred to let such things slide instead of lashing out. The mission was soon to be over. It was just a light that the Admiralty would repair for at most a few hundred umecs.

He no longer could care.

He and his crew would push forward.

***

It was a good thing that the jump was so long, as Rachel managed to get some decent rest by the time the voices stopped and the gravity returned. For a given measure of decent. Remembering the incident with the atomic coffee, she stuck to the regular one.

"Miss, I'm… I'm sorry," Sean said as he handed her the cup.

"For what?" Rachel raised an eyebrow.

"For almost killing you a few days ago," the chef lowered his head.

"I did that to myself. I insisted on the atom because I was sleepy and didn't think it through. And normally I can handle it, just that day…" she cringed as she remembered the dream with Valters. "Nevermind."

Sean sighed. "I still feel guilty, you know."

Rachel lowered her head as she gulped down the cup right there, and went to the command room.

Jamaad looked very sleepy and rather apathetic. Artur was playing a game of solitaire, not on the weapons console and not even on his datapad, but with a traditional deck of cards. Perhaps traditional was a misnomer, as the tiny, quilted, black-backgrounded cards seemed to stick to the desk. Nevertheless, they stacked even more neatly than a regular carbon fiber deck would.

"What's that?" Rachel pointed at the in-progress game.

Artur thought for a bit. "Magnetic ferrocarbon nanoweave," the wolf-man said. "For when you don't want your sequences ruined by g-changes."

He took the ace of spades and quickly swiped it across his fur-covered firearm like an antique razor. Effortlessly. A whole patch of dense, matted gray hairs fell onto the floor, while the card was completely unchanged. "These are banned in the Fed. Kept in an inside pocket of my uniform."

Elektra sighed from her seat. She was very sleepy, and her ear-fins drooped down. "For a good reason, I feel if you threw that thing at someone it'd go flying out of the other side… of the wall behind them," she chuckled.

"Imagine not having a graphene shield under your entire hide," Artur snorted. "I am the wall."

Rachel smiled and fidgeted with one of the fallen locks of fur as she sat down in her place. The auto-scan had just finished running, so there was plenty to report.

The yellowish-orange glow of Otyy-Doyr Pekyl was surrounded by many, many little planets, often orbiting at odd inclinations or eccentricities. Only two terrestrials harmoniously circled outside of this circumstellar mayhem. One was like a larger, grayish version of Mars, with a dusty surface and a very thin atmosphere, and the other somewhat resembled Earth or Tayma, with many continents separated by oceans. But the atmosphere was hazy and brown instead of blue and thin, and the continents were only black and yellow instead of green and beige. Several craters were visible, too large and numerous to be a natural bombardment. Meanwhile, the singular gas giant, far away from it all, was only slightly larger than Jupiter, but its dim reddish-brown glow betrayed its mass as being so high as to turn it into a brown dwarf.

Rachel looked solemnly at Pekyl. There, billions of lives choked or boiled alive after the invasion by the Roiling Collectives. All so that the Collectives could get more resources. Now only a few struggling habitats remained in orbit of the various planets and in Lagrange points, all of them very far from the ship's trajectory.

A thought glimmered in her mind that she did the same, but on a lesser scale.

This thought was immediately swept away by the ship-presence scan.

"Sir, sir, sir! Not only is the fucking yacht here, there are… 2 barges retrofit with huge amounts of makeshift weapons and what appears to be torches! Beside it! They're not in likely weapon range but close enough that they could catch up! I'll push the precise data to you all!"

Now was not the time to contemplate the death of this civilization.

Now was the time to run.

Run not just from their mistakes and sins catching up to them, but from these unknown pursuers.

Rachel did not even think about who these attackers were.

Jamaad remained stoic. "Patch, engage overdrive until further notice. This will ruin our engines, but we don't have much of the mission left. Let's fucking go."

Artur pushed the tableau and deck away from the working area and stretched, cracking his knuckles.

Elektra lowered her plump face into her hands.

And Kuw, who had just walked in and had apparently been watching this exchange, stared through the doorway, slack-jawed.

Meanwhile, Achariya restarted his chess game. It was very close to its end. He wondered how he could save that knight.