The Province Of Terrans 2

A Starshatter adventure

(Art source unknown)

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Index: Chapter 1 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16

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Chapter 2

Of fools and terrors

The red gleaming holo-lights reflected off of the dueling ring’s protective energy field. Shaped in the form of a dome, it was projected as soon as the two opponents entered the ring. They stood almost back to back, a tiny sliver of space between them. The man in the brown suit had the gall to rest his drawing hand on his pistol’s handle, an act which generated a throng of angry whispers.

Such was Fib Quibble’s confidence that the honored spacer was but a “manlet”, he didn’t even look at Northstone as this one assumed a dueling position. In contrast, the Terran stood calm, his drawing hand nowhere near his powerful handgun. While Fib’s mug was twisted into a contemptuous smirk, and the sage let loose a snicker every few seconds or so, Northstone’s visage was stern.

Those of the Star Blood, aliens who knew aplenty of Humanity, they saw not sadness or pity, but disgust.

“According to CCL or Colonial Common Law,” – Jenn announced over the Roundabout’s intercoms – “I am bound to remind you two of the dueling rules.”

“Oh, yes, yes, yes, do please tell!” – whined Fib and made a mocking hand gesture pointing behind his back – “Mr. Feeblehand might very well change his mind and, you know... and run away.”

Unmoved by mockery Northstone Firehand winced but said nothing.

Jenn, following a few star-seconds gritting her teeth in well-controlled anger, laid down the law:

“When you are both ready, I will count seven steps. Then you’ll turn, draw, and keep firing till one of you be dead.”

The head bartender pointed one of her colleagues, a burly man armed with a powerful shredder rifle, who stood guard over the dueling ring and issued a warning – “Under Terran law, those who try shooting their opponent in the back will die.”

Fib’s mug twisted a bit, but he did move his hand away from the gun.

“Hear that Liestone? You can’t cheat your way out of this!” – Quibble spoke after a short bout of overly annoying chuckle – “Best give up now.”

“Ready.” – Northstone addressed Jenn and cracked his neck.

“Your funeral, you fake.” – sniggered Quibble and followed with – “More than ready!”

“One,” – began counting Jenn and there was a brutal smile upon her beautiful face – “two, three, four, five...”

As the entire venue watched with bated breaths, the two slowly walked with her count.

“Six, seven—turn!” – shouted Jenn.

Northstone moved with the practiced ease of someone who did this even in his sleep.

Fib Quibble appeared to have trained and he did indeed turn swiftly, hand reaching for his beamgun. Yet, the second he laid his eye upon Firehand, his entire demeanor changed. For one terrifyingly long star-second, the obnoxious, overconfident Galactic Sage came to a certain realization and, as he proceeded to draw, whimpered:

“Oh shiii-”

Whatever training he or his fellow accredited sages did, ‘twas nowhere nearly good enough to outdraw a Spacer who made his living on the Fringe. Such was Northstone’s speed that people only witnessed the laser beam’s glint which hit Fib center mass. To most sentients present, the Spacer’s pistol appeared to have never even left his holster!

Then there was the sound of that deadly shot, one quite reminiscent of a funeral bell toll.

Dark-blue, the powerful laser turned Quibble into a smoldering pile of charred flesh, multiple puddles of molten metal crooking their hesitant way across the reinforced floor-plating. The Spacer canted his head and as he left the dueling ring, he offered a credit chit to its rifle carrying guard, saying:

“On my coin, give the fool a proper space burial.”

The Roundabout, and pretty much most of Cav, including who knew how many of the nearby starships, became abuzz with chatter. That the moron was doomed by his obnoxious overconfidence was painfully apparent for all who lived in reality, everyone who touched space, so to speak. Star Blood aliens quickly addressed the questions of those who knew nothing of the CCL or the culture of Terrans.

Soon even tourists coming from far away star systems learned of Humanity’s healthy intolerance for toxic stupidity.

This entire episode, as enticing as it was for some and startling for others, lasted but a few star-minutes. The Spacer made his way back to the bar and shook Jenn’s hand, when she offered it in a congratulatory Bikar gesture. He took his chair, drank his pint dry and reached for his wrist, deftly manipulating the holo-controls. In a few seconds there was no trace of Quibble’s vaunted diploma, nor his colleagues’ ridiculously useless research.

Before everyone’s eye, in all of its horror-promising glory there glowed the derelict.

“Dear guests, without any further adieu,” – said the Spacer, his honest visage and deep voice back to their storytelling selves – “I shall resume my tale.”

Jenn refilled his pint and with a calm smile relaxed in her own chair. She’d linked a number of her fellows, calling them to The Roundabout in great haste. Just in case there were other hecklers or someone the likes of that non-consequential sage dared interrupt her friend’s tale, they would stand guard. The head bartender witnessed over a dozen grisly-looking, huge men and women enter the venue and quickly take positions across the crowd.

They would protect what time was left on Northstone’s storytelling clock.

“Approach that ancient behemoth I did. To be on the safe side, I made sure to gather as much information as I possibly could via optical and scanning input.” – the Spacer’s words were backed up with another set of holo-slides and data-packs.

To the much obvious fright of many a sentient, those displayed a large multitude of drifting starships. Many and of much newer design, these were the leftovers of unsuccessful explorers or random vessels, unlucky enough to have stumbled upon this ancient terror.

“First, to even consider landing and exploring that giant derelict, I would have to navigate one of the ship graveyards. I’d face these tomb vessels and their zombified crews alone and with the utmost of caution. However, as many of you know, my own craft had already proven herself in many such ventures.”

Northstone projected a detailed holo of his craft, the eagle-shaped FSS* Bird Of Hope.

Again, the aliens who knew more about this Spacer and his exploits, shared what they learned of his craft with others. Bird Of Hope was designed and handcrafted by him, as per Spacer tradition.

Fixed forward, there were two quad laser cannons placed mid wings. Dorsal and ventral point defense particle-beam arrays, twelve in total, ensured that the pilot could fend off nimble starfighters, guided munitions or banish foul spirits and Unlife. Under the nose of this bird-looking craft there were two missile launchers, each capable of unleashing a tiny swarm of small rockets.

More, his accolades in deep space exploration were enabled by a powerful sensor array and special, multi-purpose shield generator. The scanner, again of his own device, allowed Northstone to detect all sorts of anomalies, monstrosities, and spirits. His shield had capabilities which allowed him, when activated, to fly straight through horrid anomalous zones and with little harm to ship and pilot.

Painted white, the wings sported gray feathers and the nose had a beautifully drawn eagle’s head, two crystal-blue eyes painted over her cockpit’s transparent megasteel illuminator. Like all Spacer craft, this one too appeared to be covered in various murals, each depicting one of Northstone’s feats. Quite the few were of him navigating a treacherous area or dodging enemy beamfire, yet one made the greatest impression. Onlookers studied this mural, painted on the dorsal side of his craft.

The Spacer was painted dogfighting a squadron of nine Jaern space mecha. In a brilliant display of piloting and gunnery skill, he laid waste to all of the cannibal wretches. Such was the joy of all sentients present, many of whom applauded and cheered this feat. They knew full well that if not stopped, the eaters of the living may have feasted upon their friends or relatives.

Never did any of them even imagine that one would win without slaying a genocidal, degenerate enemy.

“I planned my flightpath well.” – Northstone continued, displaying a set of navigational points from his data-core and overlayed them upon the holo-slides – “There was no need for me to waste resources, and fighting all of them head on would be foolish beyond measure.”

“Thus, I chose to navigate that area, which lacked the presence of swifter starcraft. I could evade the bigger ones with ease and without wasting too much fuel.” – said the spacer and witnessing the gleam of one quite obvious a question in his audience’s eyes, added – “As an explorer of things long dead, but such that refuse to depart, I will tell you how these rotting craft still remain operational. They scavenge each other for supplies and always try to secure the most valuable one—fuel.”

The Spacer shifted to another collection of holo-slides, elaborating – “Here, dear guests, witness my furtive and lucky pilotage. Those among you who are of the same noble profession, please, study, so that you may save the lives of your crews in days of future strife.”

A good number of starship navigators, starfighter pilots, and captains gasped as they speedily took notes with their PDAs.

“I flew, slowly at first, as if I was aiming to attack this tomb ship. Yet my purpose was to feign a torpedo attack and fool her corpsified crew with sensor ghosts. Then, as soon as I ‘fired’ my nonexistent munitions, I increased my speed, using the ruined aft of that ship and her gravity well as a slingshot.”

As he explained, Northstone uploaded another set of holos. These were short videos and, word for word, the experienced explorer did exactly what he’d planned. His starcraft dodged a number of ill-aimed particle-beams, his bow shields soaking but one of them. Stealing a nudge from the tomb ship’s still working grav-plating, the Spacer only wasted mere droplets of fuel to speed away and approach the ancient derelict.

“The easier part done, I was getting ready to make my way through the warship’s defenses.” – said Northstone, his voice laden with the memory of hard-earned success.

“Honesty above all else, I readily admit that I was stupefied when my optical sensors and scanning rays proved a fact, one which many had theorized, but none acquired evidence of.” – telling his tale, the Spacer once more zoomed at another and even more detailed holo-slide of the derelict, asking his audience a rhetorical question – “You would agree that these patches of anomalous space do indeed surround the craft and on all sides, yes?”

Aliens and tourists shared nods and looks of understanding. One did not have to be a master explorer of deep space to have witnessed anomalous zones in their time. These were often used as plot devices for famous holo-flicks and even ads on G-Net.

“An anomalous field which is not random, but rather part of the warship’s outer defense layer. Yes, dear guests and viewers, this olden derelict was once protected by a shield of artificially created anomalies! Such, that they could control and aim with great accuracy, otherwise their own spacecraft would fall prey.”

Northstone made a few seconds long pause which he used to sip more of the wondrous in taste and aroma Bikar beer.

“See, all these tiny specs which many of you, myself included, thought to be random pieces of junk or at worst, tomb ships, captured in the fluctuating gravity well of the derelict. Instead, their presence has a deadly purpose since they are yet another layer of the warship’s defenses. I present you, the Ghost-ships!” – announced he and projected the holo of what lay docked inside his own hangar.

Many shuddered as they lay their eye upon this killing relic of ancient past. Once of chrome-like color, the hull of this droplet-shaped craft was riddled by eons worth of time. Six spires protruded from its thinner part and even to the less knowledgeable observers, these appeared to be weapon mounts. What manner of olden devilry was this murder-craft capable of?

Northstone Firehand would soon tell this and more.

“A time will come, near the end of my tale, when I shall explain the manner in which was this craft recovered, yet it is not now.” – said the Spacer and projected another sets of holo-slides and scan-data – “I aimed to make my safe way through these defenses and if even possible, without wasting much of my precious fuel.”

Things... terribly-looking things wriggled around these Ghost-ships!

Alien faces full of hate gazed upon the Spacer starship and their many glowing eyes were warped beyond imagining. Limbs of unnatural shape, their fingers twisted in angles impossible for the living, charged the weapons of these tear-shaped ships with brilliant energies. Aglow with white and pink, a vile force unmistakable for most sentients, this was a clear sign of Unlife.

“In my many star-years of exploring the Fringe Space, I have faced and defeated monsters of sentient craft. War beasts manufactured by decrepit empires and vile corporations, gene-forged from some poor, abused animals, their only purpose to kill. I’ve tracked and slain Cryptids, some of which may have been once living sentients. Indeed, I too have clashed with malevolent spirits and Unlife wraiths, and by way of particle-beam weaponry or energy shielding, banished them from our plane.”

The Spacer did not show any more holo-slides, for all who lived in this galaxy knew full well of what he spoke. There were terrors here, oftentimes capable of interstellar flight, who preyed upon the living. Their only goal was to devour life so that the inevitable doom of their final death could be avoided. Fear was their craft, yet they themselves were wrought by terror more potent than that which all living suffered.

“Yet I must admit, that before my discovery of this ancient warship, I have never faced the product of weaponized Unlife research.” – admitted the Spacer and his listeners went silent.

Northstone continued, his voice grim as he said – “Yes, my dear guests, these Ghost-ships were deliberately made with the purpose of being possessed by vile Unlife wraiths! Not like the accidental haunting of starships lost in space, whose crews are unable to ascend or... being of evil intent, their spirits chose to remain here and torment the living.”

The Spacer changed his tone, his well-controlled anger clear for everyone present to hear when he spoke – “Who knows what foul depths were these beings summoned from and by whom? What were they given for a service such as this and who paid the price? All questions which I, even after my quite thorough exploration of this monstrous warship could not find the answer to. But what I could do was to use guile, skill, and armaments of masterwork craft to smite many a Ghost-ship!”

“When the realization of what I faced hit me, I planned quickly and executed my next move with precision. There could be no error or FSS Bird Of Hope might join the legion of tomb ships and I, my soul consumed, rotting in my spacesuit, become a zombified corpse on the hunt for the living.”

Northstone Firehand made a short, dramatic pause, as he projected more scan-data and holo-slides. All of which indicated that he did indeed perform a series of well-practiced maneuvers, mayhap even followed by a brutal dogfight with the foul Ghost-ships.

Indeed, dear reader, how did Northstone reach the ancient derelict?

(One) I switched my shield into anomaly mode, and flew straight at the Ghost-ships! To fend them off, I boosted the particle-beam point defense arrays with every bit of reserve power I had. My craft would fly unprotected against their weapons, thus I had to expand extra fuel to evade their attacks. As I fought through the derelict warship’s first defensive layer, I was sure that none of the dangerous anomalies would harm me or FSS Bird Of Hope.

(Two) My noesis with the scanning array was earned after years of study, training, and exploring Fringe Space. Therefore, instead of sacrificing the defenses of FSS Bird Of Hope I kept my shield in damage mode. All available energy would go to its generator reinforcing it, including my weapon systems, and regenerating all possible breaches caused by enemy fire. Scanner actively shooting pulses of anomaly-detecting beams, I maneuvered away from danger with all my skill.

(Three) With my sensors, I projected a number of fake ships all carrying multiple life signs. This did indeed confuse the Ghost-ships, who, at least from long-range were forced to rely upon sensors. To achieve a feat of guile of this magnitude, I was forced to bolster my sensor array with all available power. As the Ghost-ships swarmed my sensor ghosts, I rushed through the anomalies, thrusting only on my Spacer’s gut feeling and piloting skill to evade them.

[FSS] (free spacer ship)

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Dear reader, please do not forget to post your pick in the comments below, and elaborate upon why you think our protagonist should do so.