[Pioneer Dominique Reynolds]
Ever since the day I erased that parasitic sentient that was originally on my ship, I had been put in charge of full control of my body. It was tough at first, relearning basic human wiring all the way down to systematic blinking and breathing. It was eye opening to find out just how many of my day-to-day actions had been controlled by that freak, how much I relied on what I thought was a computer to live part of my life for me.
Having all of your mundane functions handled by an external force, with only stimulation left for you to deal with, seemed like a pretty good deal at first. Leave behind the boorish tasks that existence asks for, experience only what’s important to you... When I was digging through my head, connecting the pieces of myself that had worn away and remembering how to carry myself in life unaided, I learned something new.
Having freedom, being in a state of control; these are addictive luxuries. Like sweet nectar one could die fighting for. And you can’t appreciate these luxuries until they are wrested from your person. The living of my life, in all of its mundanity, had been taken from me long enough for me to forget it was ever there. Being reintroduced to control, true control, was a climactic discovery, but it was also a harrowing revelation that I had become complacent in that faux-existence.
And now to receive a signal from my ship directly to my mind, identical to the shackles once set unto me by that parasitic abomination, as if it had returned from oblivion just to threaten my sanctum of consciousness… it swamped my mind with irrational rage. If I’d stopped to think about the source of this signal, then I would have realized it wasn’t plausible for this signal to come from the same being. If I’d at least taken a look at the message on that signal, instead of immediately isolating it from my mind, I would have seen just a basic greeting and introduction rather than an attempt to control me again.
But my livid self could only see red. I wanted to maim the bastard threatening to seize my luxuries, and now I knew how. I’ve done it before when I pinned that Grahtonian to a tree and deformed his memories, rendering them unrecognizable to his brain. I could push through this signal between me and the ship, projecting my consciousness so that I-
“PLEASE, STOP DOING THIS!”
It was a plea made in genuine terror, the emotion carried by the words being directly blasted into my perception. My malicious train of thought was derailed and replaced with a more logical one, my attempt at reaching the ship snapped like a taut wire. Was I really about to transfer my mind into a machine? Wouldn’t that have made me the vulnerable one in that situation? And challenging a machine to a mind battle, what was I even thinking?
“Who the hell are you?!”
The voice that pleaded with me was different from the oppressor I knew. Even if audio could be faked and replicated, this message had a different signature, like how humans had different thumb prints. This clearly wasn’t the same being that I'd known.
“I-I’m Avalon! I was sent by Nathaniel to rescue you! Please, bad things would happen if you continued!”
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“You… The captain sent you? Are you the sentient that was on his ship? Why the hell would he send something like you?”
“Yes, I was originally on the Mayflower 233! The Meldren tested me and saw I harbored no ill intention, so the Captain employed me to work for him… He chose me for this because I could pilot this ship, despite its complete lack of software.”
“Last sentient I talked to was a possessive freak that made me hallucinate so I would rely on it more, and killed people hoping it would make me happy! Fat chance I’m gonna trust you after all that.”
“Please, Dominique, don’t lump me together with that one. I only want to get you off that planet and back to the colony ship. This ship was retrofitted with stealth capabilities, but I am still directly accessing the enemy’s scanners to keep myself hidden.”
“…Even if you say that, I’m busy with my own mission down here. You want to rescue me? You can start by stealing all the data on prisoner transports from the space station orbiting this planet.”
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[Captain Indrix Jaen]
It really just doesn’t make any sense to me. It’s perplexing, how we have amassed a fleet of warships capable of locking down a system, how we have every periphery trained on that human freak and his Moqango lackey, and yet our course of action is inaction.
I knew both from physically interacting with him and watching the recording from the Planet Warden’s fight with them, Dominique wouldn’t be taken out by any small-arms fire we could muster. The soldiers we were sending down to confront him were simply names to be added to a crematorium’s records. The only solution for this problem was heavy ordnance, and yet the only use of weaponry we were permitted was to keep nobody from entering or leaving the planet.
If only that prick Narabeno wasn’t here, I’d be able to make a move. It didn’t matter what part of the galaxy you were in or what system of power you looked at, there was always some underqualified runt that managed to rise up in rank by kissing the ass of everyone with power. Why did the nobles have to place him in charge of this situation?
“Admiral Narabeno, why are we stagnant in our approach? What benefit is there to letting rot stew, when we have the power to cleanse said filth?”
“Hold your tongue, Jaen. Your suggestions have been heard and promptly dismissed. Return to your quarters and try not to make a mess, hm? Or do you wish to perpetuate your disgrace?”
The way he leaned down to speak to me, flaunting his unnaturally-gained height, drove stakes into my collected demeanor. His body was thin like twigs. I could snap him by turning too hard, but I needed to contain myself if I wanted to reach my goals.
“I at least demand an answer, Narabeno. I see no reason to continue aimless sacrifice, we should be torching the whole area.”
“You can demand nothing, Jaen! You are working with a borrowed fleet, in case you needed a reminder, and while you may still call yourself Captain, you are nothing but a blemish! If you truly want answers, ask the Nobles yourself! I only follow their orders, and the orders given to me were to act with surgical precision when operating on this planet! Now, cease your pestering.”
It was ludicrous how much effort was needed to get even the most curt of answers, but now I had something to work with. The Nobles must be harboring a delicate project on this planet to specify such behavior. I’ve seen them order firing on our own citizens to accomplish important tasks, and yet there’s something here worth more than that?