At long last The Long Hand came into view. It was a peculiar design, unlike any other spacecraft in the entirety of the Adamant’s military, perhaps unlike any in the known universe. The shape was something of an ovate-cylinder, a tube with one continuous smooth surface going from the outside through the inside and back out again. From their straight on approach, the great hollow maul of the ship reminded Naomi of the large wide-mouth fish she used to catch with her father out on the ocean on their home world of New Sardis.
Reinforcing Naomi’s fish image, The Long Hand’s rail guns, the same type of rail gun that Adamant battleships and destroyers mounted along their spines, appeared from afar as whiskers or tendrils that some bottom feeding fish had. There were a total of eighteen of these guns that ringed around the vessel in three sets of six– one set around the front opening, one in the middle around the body, and one set around the rear opening. Perhaps, maybe it was closer to a spiny sea-cucumber? Naomi wondered to herself. The Long Hand was special, a key asset for the Adamancy. The Long Hand could provide a means for war ships to travel from one location to another almost instantaneously– a type of mobility no other faction had. How it did so, Naomi did not know in the slightest. But that did not matter at the moment. Naomi was just grateful to get off Ship’s Cure finally.
The last ninety hours had been like living and working in a minefield. Of course the near skirmish had been reported to the Marshals. Their response was swift and harsh. Each Marshal censured their own entourage of Auxiliaries and Pages involved. Marshal Dela’s condemnation was particularly rough as she was the lead for this joint mission, although Naomi was not privy to the details, the effect was apparent. Page June in particular wore a solemn look the entire time, moving around the ship like a ghost.
The three marshals also had a “discussion” with the members of the delegation. Thassua went about her business, whatever it was, in a daze as though she were a mere shadow. Felme on the other hand wore the biggest grin. Though her smile was– barely– hidden by her veil, she bounced around the ship helping wherever she could . It was ninety hours of tenuous peace, each person only spoke to each other when absolutely necessary.
Since the spat between the two sides, the boy was seen more about the ship than he previously had been. The Opal people, Pages, and Auxiliaries all stole nervous glances at the boy whenever he passed by. He seemed to wander about without a care in the world. Naomi had, through some easy eavesdropping, learned that his name was Valerius and was not a Page of any of the three warbands represented, hence his plain pure white vestments. It seemed only Marshal Dela talked with him comfortably, the other two actively avoided him whenever possible.
Naomi looked over her shoulder from her station. Valerius was strapped into a passenger seat. In his hands he fiddled with something small that she could not make out in the red light condition of the room. She turned her attention back to the monitor in front of her and scanned over the ship’s condition as it approached The Long Hand. All systems were back to stable or within tolerances, but Rikki–the helmsman– and Naomi both expressed concern about the approach instruments. Accordingly, the front view shield was retracted to assist Rikki; consequently, the lights were red to not wash out the view.
About forty-eight hours ago Ship’s Cure hit the pinch, a literal pinch in the fabric of space-time, nearest to the planet Juniper, allowing them to cover millions of lightyears of normal real space. The pinch was turbulent, which caused some undue stress on the ship and its systems. It was not normal, but not altogether uncommon for a pinch to have some instability. After all, a pinch was a direct manipulation of the universe and its laws, that is to say not normal itself. The Adamant and her wyrding network connected thousands of solar systems, asteroid fields, and all manner of heavenly bodies by directly warping space itself, allowing for people of the Adamancy to travel across this space– wyrd space– with unparalleled and unprecedented ease.
Cooper said from her station on the right, “Radio systems are all green. Go again, Rikki.”
“Affirmative. Here goes hail number twenty-seven,” Rikki said exasperated. He hailed The Long Hand again. Ever since the crew spotted it orbiting Juniper, Ship’s Cure had attempted to hail The Hand on long range radio to get all the appropriate clearances. Apparently their radio was out just like their deep space communications. So far no guns had blasted Ship’s Cure to dust. Rikki hailed the ship again, number twenty-eight. Finally, they got a response back.
“TLH Station Comm Senior–” the communication broke into a mess of garbled noise and static then nothing. Rikki waited.
“Rikki,” Marshal Dela said from over his shoulder, “request docking permission. Code 911,” she said. Rikki nodded, and pressed the comms button again.
“Long Hand Control, Ship’s Cure ADF1171867 requesting full docking. Mission Code 911. Over.” Rikki said.
There was a similar broken garble of noise again. “–Senior Wright… approach… systems down…all… complete…over.” the replying transmission ended. Rikki looked back to Marshal Dela, concerned.
“That’s not a clearance, Marshal. I don’t know where to bring us,” he said, scratching his brow in frustration. Marshal Dela, all two-hundred-and-fifteen centimeters of her clad in amberite plate armor save for her head, stood still as a statue, her eyes closed deep in thought. Her ageless face was marked with concern.
“Rikki, open a scan for any tethers. If there is none, we three,” referring to the three marshals, “will go ahead of the ship and establish direct contact,” Marshal Dela said. It was a risky plan, The Hand was armed with eighteen rail guns, a plethora of missile systems, and a litany of other countermeasures. Even for all their strength, power, and long life a marshal was still mortal. Rikki tapped a few keys on his console, each key click-clacked audibly. Part of Ship’s Cure’s design was an insistence on specific systems having a mechanical or analogue interface; they were far more reliable considering the environments that Ship’s Cure operated in.
“Got one!” Rikki said, excitedly. “Off our nose, twenty-two degrees x-z, sixteen degrees x-y,” he stated.
“Excellent,” Marshal Dela said. “Rikki correct course for direct tethering to The Long Hand.”
“Yes, Marshal, moving to direct tether,” Rikki said, shifting their course to line up with the invisible outstretched tether. The tether would bring them into a docking bay on the inner hull, the inside surface of the cylinder, of The Long Hand. Marshal Dela moved from behind Rikki to the wide, open space between the pilot and co-pilot seats in front of the command console. She tapped a couple keys on the long command console. A small red light lit up and Marshal Dela gently lifted the tiny microphone beside the light and spoke into it.
“Attention all crew. Prepare for tethering. Docking procedures full check … As you all know The Long Hand performed an emergency tesseract to the planet Juniper eight-hundred-and-sixty-four hours ago. Intelligence suggests that there was a minor Unity invasion of the planet. Twelve hours after arrival, The Long Hand went silent. However, Cure’s scanners and detection systems have not detected any Unity vessels in the proximity…” Marshal Dela waited a moment, looking at Cooper’s console. A series of small green lights lit up in front of Cooper. She confirmed docking procedures check completed. Marshal Dela continued, “Our mission is to make direct contact with the crew and reestablish communications from The Long Hand to the Adamant Throne, assist in any combative action necessary, then request reinforcements. Worst case scenario, the condition that the ship has been hijacked, the mission will change to scuttling The Long Hand, ensuring it does not fall into Unity control. That will be all,” she placed the microphone back in its holder. Marshal Dela turned to the rest of the crew in the helm and was clearly about to speak when a claxon sounded and a flashing red light lit up, cutting her off.
“Emergency hail, Marshal!” Rikki called.
“Put it through,” the marshal replied. Rikki complied and tapped a key on his console.
There was a moment of static, then a voice came through, “Hail! Incoming vessel! This is Veteran Auxiliary Cross Jo of the Greyhounds. We are under attack from an unknown enemy! All contact with The Long Hand has been lost! Please assist!”
“This is Marshal Dela, Second Commander of Firehawks. Three Marshals are moving to your position!” She replied into the mic. “Rikki, lock the origin of that communication!” she commanded. Rikki furiously tapped a number of keys.
“Coordinates locked! Sending them to your HUDs, Marshals,” Rikki said.
Dela checked on the other two marshals in the room, who were already donning their helmets. “ Rikki hold course to the tether,” she told him.
Rikki replied with “Yes, Marshal.”
“Coordinates received,” one of the other marshals confirmed from the rear.
Marshal Dela grabbed the mic again and tapped the same keys, her voice going ship wide, “Contact has been made with friendly forces planet side. We three marshals will be moving planet side to meet the enemy. Remaining personnel will continue with the original mission. Senior Auxiliary Chet from The Erroldrakes will take command. Marshal Dela out.” she finished and donned her helmet.
Her amberite armor was a muted medley of camouflage colors which would adapt in hue and shade when the environment dictated, save for half her helmet and her left shoulder pauldron which were crimson and gold, the colors of her Firehawks warband. A series of images and shapes, including the image of a soaring firebird, a firehawk of the planet Pandora, was embossed and chased on her left shoulder pauldron. She moved rearward toward a staircase which led to storage and then the airlock. The other two marshals, Marshal Kabili and Marshal Faris followed. As they passed, every human, including Naomi, saluted them. The thudding footsteps of the three marshals faded behind them.
A minute or two passed, then Rikki said: “Marshals, away.” The marshals could be seen flying off through space, speeding for the surface of Juniper. It was as though suddenly there was no floor beneath their feet. Tension filled the air. The void left by the marshals was evident. Rikki let out a long sigh.
“No worries. Rikki, it's just another day at work,” Commander Coffer said from the passenger seat left of Naomi.
“Indeed, you have all of the Auxiliaries and Pages with you. Worry not about the available combat potential,” Senior Auxiliary Chet consoled Rikki as well, placing a hand gently on his shoulder. Naomi thought of the boy, Valerius. Without Marshal Dela there to protect him, would he still be safe? She wondered. Naomi did her due diligence and checked over the systems as they approached the tether. The co-pilot, Chen Fen, made a final call for safety check over the ship wide comms.
Rikki opened the comm line to The Long Hand again, “Long Hand, Ship’s Cure we are turning base for tether, over.” The response from The Hand was a garbled mess of clicks, strange squelches, and scratches.
“The first reply from The Hand seemed like a hardware malfunction, this one seems like an encoding malfunction,” Felme said from her station in the rear of the helm.
“Agreed,” Cooper said.
“We should be able to have short range communications up within forty-eight hours,” Naomi said to Senior Chet.
“Excellent! Fen let the Marshals know,” he replied. Fen opened a comm line to the marshals and met with nothing but harsh static. “Try them again,” Senior Chet said nervously. Fen tried again to no avail. Without warning the ship shook and jerked violently, throwing Senior Chet off his feet. “Rikki!” he hollered. Ship’s Cure hurtled toward The Long Hand.
“We’ve been grabbed!” Rikki shouted back. “Long Hand! The tether vector has been altered!” he called desperately into his comm. There was no response. Rikki grabbed the manual controls and yanked the steering in the opposite direction as hard as possible but Ship’s Cure remained in The Long Hand’s grasp. “Fen! Emergency reverse thrusters!”
“On it!” Fen called back, as the ship continued to shake. She smacked a lever forward and a great roar of burning spacecoral came from the bow thrusters. Ship’s Cure slowed, inching toward The Long Hand. “This burn is unsustainable! We gotta get them on the line!” Fen shouted, but Rikki was already ahead of her, nearly screaming into his comm, but all he got back was the same clicking and scratching sounds. Rikki cursed. The ship convulsed again and accelerated faster than it did before. The great mass of The Hand loomed over the tiny Cure.
“The tether’s power is up! It has no safety measures!” Rikki cried.
“We’re going to crash!” Cooper wailed.
“Abbot, reroute all power to external inertial dampening!” Rikki called.
“What?” Naomi exclaimed.
“Do it!” Senior Chet bellowed. “Life support won’t matter if we are obliterated!” Naomi furiously hit nearly every button on her console. The lights went out, and there was an audible hiss as the air pumps shut down. Ship’s Cure slowed down only a little. The Hand’s shadow darkened the helm. The hull of Cure groaned from the stress. Rikki cursed again and again as he wrestled with the yoke. Naomi looked up desperate for salvation.
“Crash Pad!” Naomi screamed. “Ten degrees port!” There just off to their left was a flashing circle of floating lights, a suspension net that hopefully led to an emergency landing zone.
“I see it!” Rikki exclaimed. “Fen on my signal, full starboard thrusters!”
“Blast shields!” Senior Chet shouted! Naomi smacked a big button closing the blast shields, a hologram screen appeared showing the pilots the outside visuals.
“All crew brace for impact!” Cooper squalled into the emergency comms.
“NOW!” Rikki yelled. Fen, like a wizard, pulled, pushed, and switched a plethora of levers. Ship’s Cure leapt leftward, flinging itself through the circle of floating lights which severed everything, Cure’s engines and its power and the tether. Ship’s Cure slammed onto the asphalt covered metal surface of the landing zone. The ship bounced and crashed down again, scraping along the emergency landing zone until it came to a screeching halt.
Naomi sat back, relieved. Sweat poured down her head. She was soaked to the bone in sweat underneath her BEPS (Basic Environmental Protection Suit). They all sat there for a moment getting their breath back, some whispered quiet prayers of thanks. Others sat back with their eyes closed. The ship was dark, emergency backup power had not kicked on yet. Naomi considered offering a small prayer for a moment, then decided against it. Instead she unbuckled her harness and stood up unsteadily. The emergency power, fed from battery storage, turned on, washing everyone in a dim red light again.
“Nice, call on the crash pad, Abbot,” Coffer said, unbuckling, still breathing heavily.
“Yes, excellent eye,” Senior Chet said, standing. “Brilliant work, Rikki and Fen,” he patted each of them on the shoulder. “Great work everyone.”
“My foot’s broken,” Fen said exasperated.
“Coffer, help her back to med. Connect up with the Pages, but I want you overseeing triage and emergency assessment. Get me a head count as soon as possible. We’ll move the most serious cases into The Hand’s ER,” Senior Chet instructed.
“Yes, Senior Auxiliary,” Coffer confirmed. He helped Fen out of her seat and supported her as she hop-limped to medical.
“Rikki–” Senior Chet began.
“Senior, I’ll take care of crash protocol. I have to get cleaned up first if you don’t mind… nature got me.” Rikki let that sink in for a moment before continuing, “I’ll do a whole engine and systems inspection and update the crew. Cure probably needs some intense repairs before it's space worthy again,” Rikki said, drained.
“Noted,” Chet said. “Don’t take too long. Once we make contact, you need to give the list of parts to the head engineer here,” he finished.
“Aye aye, Senior,” Rikki wobbled out of the helm.
Another Auxiliary, Naomi could not remember his name, there were too many of them, popped his head into the helm. “Senior, there’s no welcome party. All the lights are on, but it’s like no one’s home,” the fellow said. Chet’s brow furrowed in concern.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“Naomi, Cooper check in with Auxiliary Akio if not, then go down the ranks. Let all the able bodied, who don’t have previous orders, group up outside the ship, we’ll then make our way to receiving. We need to find out what's going on.”
“We’re on it, Senior,” Naomi said, helping Cooper, who was still shaky, out of her seat. Once Cooper found her footing, the pair made their way rearward gathering people as they went. The rear of the ship was a madhouse, as people rushed about getting injured people to med, and putting out a number of small fires. Naomi saw Valerius briefly as he rushed past carrying a crate almost too big for him filled with bandages and such. She felt relief that he was uninjured. Within ten minutes the entire crew had been assessed.
After another five minutes the personnel who had been assigned to move out, had gathered outside Ship’s Cure. There were a total of seventeen people deemed too injured or impaired (Fen was one of these) to move away from the ship until full medical care from The Long Hand could be provided. Another five were assigned to stay with them, six including Rikki. Thirty-four remained who could actually make their way into The Long Hand.
The able bodied completely unloaded Ship’s Cure of its cargo, tools, parts, and whatever else was estimated to be used on the mission. They gathered on the landing strip around the portable ansible. The marshals still could not be reached, neither could the ground forces that hailed them before, nor could anyone at The Long Hand’s communication control station on the bridge be contacted. But at least the ansible worked as a relay for communication between the mission personnel.
Senior Chet climbed on top of a metal crate so he could be seen, his fighting rifle slung on his shoulder. To his right side was Page June, he had a nasty gash above his left eye which had been stitched and treated with medi-gel. His arms were crossed as he surveyed the small crowd with a scowl. To the left of Chet was Thassua, who wore a different outfit save for her cowl and veil which still covered her head, face, and shoulders. Instead of being completely covered on her body, she wore a tight fitting sleeveless top and tight shorts that came to her mid thigh revealing her muscular arms and legs. She was covered in dark, splotchy, purple bruises which were accentuated by her pale grey-blue skin.
In addition to her belt she wore a harness that carried even more daggers and blades, as well as six cobalt blue glass-like orbs, three on either side of her chest. In her right hand she carried a ഽ shaped staff that was about half her height in length. Her left arm, apparently broken, was in a wide mesh resin cast that went past her elbow. It was clear she would not be denied going with the rest. Not including Thassua, only Felme and two other Opal people were well enough to proceed.
Senior Chet began to speak, “Alright people! We don’t know the situation, we have two party members who are stable but need more extensive care. We have not met any persons of The Long Hand, we will operate under Decimation Protocol. Our allies’ numbers are so low they cannot make contact.” Senior Chet lifted up a metallic, rectangular prism. The prism hung in the air when he took his hand away. It floated for a moment turning in the air until it was oriented correctly. A hologram projected from the prism depicting the general layout of The Long Hand. “System diagnosis is reading that The Long Hand is fully operational, except for comms of course. From here we split into two teams. Our first objective is receiving, which is here,” he pointed to a large open room on the projection which was indicated by a red dot. “There is a series of high-speed trams that run the length of the vessel. Team One will take tram one to the bridge,” he said, pointing to another spacious room on the projection. The image showed another red dot deep in the heart of The Hand. “Team Two will take tram three to the core and restore full function,” he scanned the crowd, making sure he was understood. “This should take us less than an hour, people. Check your data pads for team assignments. Team One will form on me, Team Two on Page June and Delegate Thassua.” Dread came over Naomi. She was afraid that the team assignments would happen this way.
“Wait! You’ve assigned me to Team One,” a voice said from the back of the crowd. It was Valerius. “I need to be on Team Two,” he said.
“I thought it would be better if you accompanied Team One to the bridge for safety’s sake,” Senior Chet responded. Naomi nodded in agreement and saw a few other Auxiliaries and Pages nod as well.
“No. I need to be on Team Two,” Valerius insisted. To Naomi’s shock the Auxiliary sighed and relented. One of the other pages, a page from Firehawks, volunteered to swap places with Valerius. Valerius simply said, “Thank you,” with the cutest smile he could muster. For a moment Naomi was reminded of Adrian from when the two of them were children. His pretty boy syndrome let him get away with just about anything. Adrian got his way with as little as a look and a smile. It was how he convinced her to marry him.
Valerius proceeded to pick up a comically large backpack that was clearly stuffed full of something, and with shocking ease put it on his back. Almost skipping, he joined Team Two which comprised of Valerius, Naomi herself, Felme, Thassua, the other two uninjured Opaline delegates, Cooper, the four Adamant Defense Force security people, Page June and two other Pages whose names she did not know, and lastly three Auxiliaries whose names she also did not know. Valerius fell in on her right in the back of the line up. Naomi gave a long look at the great big sac of a backpack. Then she looked down at him and their eyes met. He smiled, his eyes almost disappeared behind it. She smiled back.
Other than the ridiculous bag on his back, he was dressed in plain white vestments. While other Pages wore a type of slipper or sandal, Valerius was barefoot with immaculately clean feet. What his clothing choices meant as a page, Naomi did not know. His skin tone fell between warm gold and cool olive tones which besides his face could be seen through the more sheer parts of his vestments at the lower half of his arms and legs. He had a mop of shining, glossy, dark brown hair. His hair was obstinately straight but finer than silk. His bright eyes were a lighter brown and almond shaped, enhanced by a beauty mark in the corner of his eye. He had moderately high cheeks and a dainty tiny nose.
“Here,” he said, holding up a canteen. “You’re dehydrated.” She took the bottle of water from his small slender hands. It was strange, she never saw him produce the bottle from his bag. She opened the canteen and took a drink. When the water hit her parched throat she realized just how dehydrated she was. A cool wave washed over her, restoring her. Only then did she realize that she had been going nonstop since Ship’s Cure crash landing. She emptied the bottle without noticing, then handed it back to Valerius with a sheepish grin. He smiled again, taking the bottle back. Naomi watched him and the bottle closely. Valerius held the bottle in one hand and then passed the other hand in front of the bottle, the wide sleeve of his raiment obscured the bottle from Naomi’s sight. With a flash and flourish Valerius removed his hand and revealed that the water bottle had vanished. He waved his hands and wiggled his fingers like a street magician would. Naomi let out a small gasp. Felme, who was right of Valerius and the only other person privy to the magic show, stifled a laugh. Too late. Senior Chet stopped whatever droning speech he was giving.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know there was something more important going on than my brief,” he said, clearly annoyed. He locked eyes with Naomi. Flustered she looked to Felme who had laughed, she looked straight ahead, unerringly so. Naomi looked at Valerius, the perpetrator of the whole deal, he looked up and around, pretending to be distracted by the architecture of The Long Hand around them. These rats! Naomi thought.
“Is there a problem, Specialist Abbot?” Senior Chet asked. His annoyance was more apparent.
“No, Senior! I was simply shocked by the size of The Hand,” Naomi replied. Senior Chet huffed and continued on with his brief, if it could even be called that. He was really just reading out the supplies and equipment each team had. But Naomi already knew the equipment list of each team–she made the lists originally for Marshal Dela. Well, she had known until Valerius revealed his absurd backpack. What was in there, she had no idea. Eventually Senior Chet finished, and the two teams performed final checks before moving out. Page June and Thassua exchanged spiteful glances. Naomi’s confidence in the mission’s success was failing already.
“Don’t worry. They won’t start anything… I think,” Valerius said. “I’m not sure what caused them to start a fight on the ship, but they won’t fight now that we’re here,” he had his chin in the cradle of his thumb and forefinger, thinking, “Yeah, I’m sure they won’t,” he concluded.
“How do you know?” Naomi asked him.
“I just do.” He walked away and stood close to Page June and Thassua who were oddly still hesitant around him. The three of them watched as the rest of Team Two finished their final inspections and kit checks. Although Naomi was not a combat role specifically, combat was an inevitable reality in her job. She closely inspected her rifle. It was standard issue for Defense Force members. The 6.8 millimeter caseless bullets were 10 grams in weight, significantly less powerful than the rounds that Auxiliaries carried.
The small cobalt blue crystal attached to the end of the bullet was the charge of coral that propelled the bullet when ignited. Coral was far more powerful than even the most advanced gunpowders and was the most regulated substance in the entire Adamancy. Yet, coral was ubiquitous from fuel, to conduit, to batteries, to strengthening and enhancing metals and concrete. After its discovery so many millennia ago, coral had long since become the core of the space trade.
Naomi ensured she had a bullet in the chamber and double checked the safety on the gun. She carried four magazines of thirty rounds in her chest carrier, with a mag loaded into her weapon. She limited the load of ammunition as her other gear was far more important to the mission in Naomi’s opinion. She wrapped up her own final inspection and confirmed the necessities with both Cooper and Felme.
The two teams split up and moved to separate gates that led to platforms opposite of each other. They proceeded in three columns of five, with Page June and Thassua in a pair at the head. The far wall where the gates were located was enormous. In great bold letters read A.S. THE LONG HAND. Beside that was the badge and heraldry of The Greyhounds. Team One reached their gate first.
“We’re heading in. Keep the comms live, see you in the atrium,” Senior Chet said. He waved.
“Affirmative, we’ll be in our reception in less than a minute,” Page June replied and waved back. The team reached the gate sooner than Page June had said, but the problem was the automatic door was locked. Team One had already gone inside, their door opened automatically when they approached and closed behind them.
“Should we pry it open?” Thassua asked.
“No, I don’t think it’s necessary. I actually don’t know if we could pry it open without getting particularly violent,” June replied. “Abbot, get the lockpick on this door,” he said.
“Aye, Page!” Naomi called back. After grabbing a hand sized oblong box, the lockpick, from her kit bag, she hurried to the door. The door in front of the team appeared to be some type of metal, Naomi could not tell what kind. The door was seamless, a smooth unbroken surface like a big metal mirror. It did not have any hinges, nor railings, nor any other indication of how it opened or operated. If not for a bright red and yellow stripe paint pattern around it, the door would have blended right into the wall. She placed the lockpick on the wall beside the door. No signal. She moved the device a couple more times until the lockpick detected the signal from the remote door control. She tapped a few of the rubber keys, and watched the small monitor on the machine as the lockpick ran through all sorts of sequences and functions. Eventually the lockpick let a couple small beeps and a line appeared right down the middle of the surface.
The door–doors– slid apart revealing the reception room. The Auxiliaries, followed by the ADF soldiers, streamed into the room, weapons raised, scanning for threats but found none. It was a decent sized room with rows of polymer–plastic seats along the walls and in the middle of the room. Off to the side was another door leading to the security station which had a clear bullet resistant wall for observing the reception room. No one manned the station. At the back of the room was a number of scanners, some for scanning people, others for scanning cases and gear bags. No one was stationed at the security check either. In fact until the whole of Team Two entered the reception area there was no evidence of anyone being in the room for quite some time. The rest of the team followed behind with Naomi, Cooper, Felme, and Valerius coming in last.
“Senior Chet, reception is cold. How about yours?” Page June asked over the comms. There was no reply. “Team One? Team One, do you read?” Page June, asked perturbed. No answer. “Abbot check the door, if it’s locked get us through.”
“Yes, Page.” Naomi moved swiftly. And set the lockpick up as quickly as possible. She could hear the rest of the group fidget with their gear or weapons uncomfortably behind her.
“Do you smell that? That stink?” Valerius asked.
‘No, I don’t smell anything,” it was Thassua who replied.
“Neither do I,” said one of the other Auxiliaries, Walker was his name.
“What does it smell like?” Page June said.
“Something rotting. It’s hardly there. But it smells like a dead animal.” Valerius grimaced.
Thassua lowered her veil just enough to show her nose. She inhaled deeply. “Yesss, I smell it too. It is faint, but distinct. You have incredible senses, little one,” she confirmed.
“Abbot, how's that door?” Page June pressed.
“Not good, Page. This door is more secure than the first one.” Naomi said.
Page June cursed quietly. He flipped the switch to his comm mic and spoke, “Senior Chet please respond. We are having difficulties. I believe we should prepare for torch procedures.” There was no response, same as last time. “Senior Chet. Team One?” He called again. Silence. Naomi could smell the faint smell of rotting flesh now too. The door they came through from the crash pad slammed shut. Locking them inside. At that moment there was the unmistakable THWOMP!THWOMP!THWOMP!THWOMP! sound of not-so-distant gunfire.
“Cooper! Get that door open now!”
“On it, Page!” Cooper began to hurriedly hit the rubber buttons with her thumbs, each attempt to open the door ended with a flashing red screen on the lockpick’s monitor. “It’s no good!” She shouted after the numerous tries. Smell of rotting flesh grew. It was potent enough to make Naomi gag.
“Felme!” Thassua shouted! She continued on in their native language. It was a flowy, nasally language, albeit with an air of haughtiness to it. Or that could have just been Thassua, Naomi was not entirely sure. Felme tapped her wrist techpad a couple times, then a 2d projection shown from the device. It was a map of the ship. She swiped around the image which shifted with every move. She was looking for another way Naomi realized. Felme replied something, panic set in her voice.
“Abbot, how’s that door?” Page June said tensely. There was the sound of more gunfire– the distinct sound of burning coral through a gun barrel.
“I’m still trying!” She shouted! She looked back to Cooper at the other end of the room who was still tapping buttons as quickly as possible on her lockpick. Naomi turned back to her lockpick just in time to see the screen flash red in failure. She huffed, exasperated. She heard the others in the room get more fidgety, constantly checking their gear and weapons. A sudden short alarm sounded. Naomi looked at her door. Nothing. She spun around to Cooper’s door. Nothing. She looked around bewildered, then saw Valerius.
“I got the security gate open,” he said, pointing to the obvious open door.
“Wha… How?” Page June was flabbergasted.
“I hacked it.”
“You hacked– You know what, never mind,” the page said, shaking his head. “Abbot get in there and override the doors.”
“On it!” Naomi hurried over to the security room. Cooper stood, backing away from the door. She pulled out another device, one Naomi did not recognize, and was using it instead. Perhaps a homebrew lockpick? Naomi figured.
“I’ll help Abbot in the security–” Cooper began.
“No, Cooper, stay on that door, we need a path to move!” Page June pointed her back to the door. She turned back to the door, a nasty scowl on her face that only Naomi seemed to see, and resumed work on opening the door.
“Felme, you go instead. We need access to the security’s live feed,” Thassua said.
“Ah, good call,” Page June complimented.
Thassua hesitated for a moment. “Thank you,” she accepted the compliment. Felme hurried after Naomi into the security office. Valerius trailed behind them, mammoth backpack in toe. Naomi pulled out a different device from her own backpack, found the access port on the door control console, and proceeded to launch some preprogrammed executables on the device. Felme got into the security system first. Frenzied, she navigated her way through the security system. She huffed.
“What is the matter?” Thassua asked.
“I cannot grant security clearance for the live feed. We would need to do that from the main security office on… Level 24 Section 17D,” Felme stated.
Page June cursed. “Alright feed us the security footage going back to when The Hand went silent directly to our SOMA rigs. We need something. Anything!.”
She quickly looked up the files and let out a small gasp. “They are gone!” she exclaimed.
“What do you mean ‘gone’?” Page June asked.
“I mean exactly that. There are no security recordings,” she said. “It is so blatant that someone intentionally wiped the memory clean. There is not even anything in the backup memory or ghost memory.”
Page June cursed again. “Abbot! How’s that door coming?”
“I just got access to the door control,” Naomi replied. A moment or two passed, then she said, “Got it, opening door now!” The far door opened into an enormous atrium where all the high-speed trams were located. Naomi quickly gathered her equipment and moved toward the door of the security office only to have the door slam in her face. She spun around to look at the console bewildered. Valerius stood there thumbs tucked into the straps of his backpack, a single eyebrow raised looking at Naomi's direction. He did not shut the door. Felme was completely surprised. Her eyes were wide in shock. She had been engrossed in the surveillance system still looking for an alternate way to gain access. Naomi stormed over to the door control console and hit the open button. Nothing. Even the sound of gunfire had ceased, but the smell of rot persisted.
“What’s going on, Abbot?” Page June asked, concerned.
“The door won’t open!”
“Why not?” he yelled into the comms.
“I’ve been locked out again!”
“Well get back in there!”
“We’re being isolated…” Valerius said quietly. Only Naomi heard him, and she could not help but agree with him.
“Felme! Thassua shouted. “We need to get you out of there!” she said desperately. She raised her ഽ shaped staff. For a moment a blue glow appeared at the end.
“NO!” Page June rushed over knocking down the raised staff. “You’ll kill us all! That shielding could withstand orbital bombardment!” He hollered.
“Then what do you propose?” Thassua said vehemently.
It was Felme who replied. “This security station has an elevator that leads to an exclusive tram which would take us to the main security control… We could give the team full security access… Which we just established is crucial it would seem…” Felme said, in a strange daze. Thassua was clearly not pleased. Page June looked skeptical, but he pulled out a device identical to the one that Senior Chet had earlier. An image sprung up from the prism, the layout of the vessel. He scanned the map. After a moment he found what he was looking for.
“There’s an access tunnel leading from the main security office to a maintenance area that should have a tram that leads only to engineering and central maintenance. Then an access tunnel that goes straight to the core. We’ll meet at the primary objective. We need full communication back. Understood?” He finished.
“Understood,” she confirmed, when she finished routing their course through the vessel. Thassua spoke something in her native tongue. She spoke with a sternness but also a softness that surprised Naomi. Felme who evidently awoke from her stupor replied to her, assuring her. Thassua nodded to her then to Page June. Felme looked at Naomi and nodded.
“Well, are we just going to stand here nodding to each other all day, or are we going to move?” Valerius asked impatiently.
“Okay,” Naomi said, readying herself and equipment, “All set!”
“Alright people let’s MOVE!” Page June commanded. The rest of the team moved through the open door which closed behind them. Naomi, Felme, and Valerius moved to the back of the office where the access door opened for them, revealing an elevator. There was hardly space for the three of them and Valerius’ bag. Naomi felt her heart pound as the elevator doors closed in front of her.