The crew sway in their seats as we swerve rapidly, leaving wild oscillations in our wake, just barely dodging the minor asteroid Tollek designated for this shift's strafing practice. Shots spray out from both turrets in a futile attempt to score a hit. The asteroid remains unharmed. This is our third pass by, and still the asteroid is unharmed.
Third Operative Vin Tussa, a slim youngster native to Honus, is at the pilot controls. Recklessly he flips the vessel around without engaging dampeners first. He's putting monstrous stresses on newly repaired seams. I forcibly reroute coolant to the engine, temperatures are still tolerable but will not remain so for long under this treatment.
"Taking us around for another attack," Vin reports eagerly, his voice high with excitement. "Gunners ready. Entering range in three, two, one, zap 'em!"
He doesn't give the gunners enough time to acknowledge before swooping in a wide arc around the asteroid. Another poorly aimed volley spews forth, energy dissipating harmlessly in the perturbed space. They've been doing their best, but his erratic piloting and impatience don't make for the best circumstances for new gunners to train under.
Emissions from repeated passes have suffused the area with charged particles, causing interference with the beam turrets. We fly through the energized cloud that has built up around the target, engines stuttering slightly. Vin bounces in place at his station, unable to contain his excitement.
"That's enough for now, everyone. Good work today," Tollek commands, voice steady as he calls an early halt to the field exercise. "Take us back to Kalibern, Vin."
"Yessir," responds the still hyper charged young officer. He sends full power to the engines, accelerating us well past margins of safety. Our pilot likes to go fast.
Turning us sharply around again, Vin steers us back to base. Vibrations ripple the armored hull. Something cracks, flying off into the cloud of abrasive particles.
The flight is shaky but tolerably quick; Kalibern rapidly swells on the display, growing ever larger as we approach.
Operative Tussa pilots us towards the landing pad, still moving far too fast for a safe landing. Panic is visible on the faces of the officers seated on the command deck. Tollek signals frantically to me, out of young Vin's line of sight.
I surreptitiously shut off commands from the pilot station and land us myself. Thank the stars that he was unwilling to allow the young Operative to crash, regardless of how valuable a learning experience it would have been. Some of the crew noticed but are pretending not to know.
He nods calmly to the young pilot and dismisses everyone around him. They leave quickly, trading jokes and teasing each other over their performance.
Once alone Tollek lets out a sigh of relief.
"Make a note, command privilege only, on his record. Not a pilot," he says as he walks to the war room.
He sits down wearily, collapsing into the padded chair. "What broke? I heard it even over Nalya getting sick."
"I've already got Uhgun on his way with a mop. We lost a long-range communications antenna, sir. Snapped right off. I think we hit an expended missile cartridge."
"Have Tulson make you another one when she gets a chance. Could you have them send a message to the Supply-Master? Ask him to meet me in our officers' lounge when he can."
It takes only moments to locate the person nearest Dunc Willon.
"Could you escort Supply-Master Willon to the officers' lounge aboard the Resurgent, please, Operative Vren? At his earliest convenience. The Ship-Father would like to speak with him in private."
"Very well. Better that he insults me than Teah," says the dark furred Tserri officer quietly in his native language.
---
"Congratulations, Jim. She's a fine officer, quite talented. I want her for myself. The Cabin need's a Diplomat as talented as your Marta," the Supply-Master says, leaning back into the well-padded chair.
Tollek's friendly demeanor doesn't even twitch. "She's a valuable member of my crew, too valuable to give up. Besides, I'm already doing you a favor by taking those troublemakers off your Niala."
"The kid isn't bad, not really," hedges Willon. "He's under too much pressure, serving on the same ship as his Pa. Give my Dunc a chance to shine outside of my shadow, he needs it." He waves airily, as if to emphasize his point.
"And the bodyguard? I understand they're a pair, but I have access to crew manifests and personnel files, same as you," counters Tollek as he walks over to the bar. "Juice?"
"Yes please. Do you have something tart?"
The Ship-Father nods and pours a yellow fluid into two cups, then hands one to Dunc Willon. The older officer takes a sip and smiles alight on both their faces. "I've yet to hear what you offer in exchange for my Lead Diplomat," Jim states, knowing he has the stronger position. "And don't mention those hoodlums you're sending over."
Willon sighs, long and drawn out. "I can offer you a new power core for the Resurgent."
Jim's eye twitches but he keeps his composure. "Yes, I did requisition one some time ago, but I've grown rather fond of Mos Denn."
Praise from above!
The old monster sputters out, "You named it?"
Tollek shakes his head and chuckles. "He already had a name, when that Squiver sold him to me."
He must mean Jurer Nuhst. Is that what his people call mine? I lose interest in the rest of their conversation as I begin diving through file after file. List of contacted races, Squiver not found. List of known planets, Squiver not found.
Search for Squiver as a ship class. Result not found.
Wait. There are classified files that don't turn up in standard searches. Such as the note I myself attached to Vin Tussa's file not long ago.
There are also several different levels of restriction. Would Squiver be a classified term? I begin looking more closely at the structure of various files.
Behind the easy to access data is an arcane language with strange references to esoteric concepts like systems of strings, as well as an oddly truncated syntax.
public class PrimitiveParameters
{
public static void main(String[]args)
{go()
}
public static void go()
...
Meaningless gibberish. Their thaumatists practice similar slimeless tactics to our own, hiding the true workings of their mysterious powers behind nonsense and blather. The complete lack of runic arrays makes them no easier for me to comprehend.
That door locked to me, I sink into deep meditative thought. The clues, though sparse, are starting to come together.
With patience and diligence, the knowledge I seek will eventually be revealed to me. I suspect that Nuhst used a portal to reach the planet where he sold me.
What was its name? I don't think I ever found out, actually. It was a planet in the Svetta system, according to recent logs. Pulling up the file for the system reveals a fairly standard entry.
Svetta is a large star with seven major planets. The Selberfeld Imperium has no colonies in system, though plans are being made for a military controlled observation post to be built on one of the uninhabited rocky moons.
The fourth planet out, Delnabi, is home to an early iron age culture. The local race, what they call themselves is unknown, are listed as 'Fatrounds'. The average diameter of one of the natives is just under five ubits. Short strong arms sprout from their rotund red torsos in two rings, one for locomotion and the other for manipulation.
In the mission logs I find the reason for the presence of the Selberclaw. Tentative efforts to determine cultural compatibility as well as to identify artifacts of cultural significance.
Battle with pirates while entering system had left the power core damaged, stranding the ship. Tollek had decided to lead a team down to the planet when energy readings dramatically spiked on the northern continent. Following the energy signal led them to a secret auction between natives and an unknown alien being.