The Province Of Terrans 2

A Starshatter adventure

Feb 21, 2025

(Art source unknown)

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Index: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16

Chapter 7

A tomb away from home

“Decision made, I carefully deactivated the Jaern’s spacesuit old power core. When the fusion chamber had gone completely empty, my tools disassembled all plasma cables and crystalline connectors. See, I made sure to not cut those, but recover them instead. This way, whenever I stumbled upon some other Jaern tech, the power core could be handily used to energize it and without any lengthy or complicated modifications.”

Northstone further elaborated upon his choice of action, following another sip of bikar beer – “More, this Jaern cult managed to survive the derelict and for a long period of time. Logic dictated that they found supplies, and sadly... acquired food. Thus, grabbing the fusion core and backtracking to that shelter was perhaps one of my best options.”

The Spacer projected a number of holo-slides, each showing part of his trek through the ravaged by time and battle piping. While the olden battleship’s service tunnels were as tall and wide so they could facilitate small mecha, although big, these pipes could only be traversed by a sentient of average size. Northstone’s guests began entertaining one guess after another as to how had this bulky Jaern hunter even reached the machine bay.

“I did walk and in some comfort, at least for most of my trip. However,” – said the Spacer and pointed some damaged or bashed through walls on another set of holo-slides which he enlarged for his audience – “certain others were crawling and for what may have been not just hours, but star-days.”

The otherwise maddening to navigate for any other explorer labyrinth of pipes, to Northstone appeared like a casual walk in the park. One facilitated by the careful scans and the looted data of others who had survived it, yet even with all of these nifty advantages the Spacer’s well-earned ability became apparent. Not once did he stumble on his mag-boots or lost his way. The man kept walking forth and in a brisk pace, one hand holding the laser pistol and the other, the looted power core.

“Dear friends, you all remember me noting that I entertained visiting upon that area first. Now, close enough so my scout goggles could reach with their scanning beams, I am happy that I did not.”

To illustrate his words, Northstone showed The Roundabout’s guests one bit of great scan-data. This file was obviously attained via passive scan and on it, the Spacer’s audience witnessed two dozen Jaern. They weren’t just lurking here in ambush, but actually slaughtering each other and with vicious abandon!

When Northstone spoke of fallen Jaern, the people who were now observing the violent carnage, they quickly remembered it. Bodies ravaged by hunger, these reavers had clashed with their cannibalistic kin, swinging barely working vibroblades, using broken beamguns as clubs, and even bare claws. Limbs missing and their armored spacesuits heavily damaged, one would assume that these zombified eaters of the living were doomed to lose.

Yes.

Indeed, it was their former brothers in the Hunt who eventually came on top, yet they did not win without suffering casualties and wounds. Throughout the entire massacre Northstone did not shoot even once; instead, he made use of the carfuffle to navigate his way and position himself behind the winners. Witnessing the Spacer’s Deathknell pistol aimed straight at the backs of the Jaern, the Roundabout’s guests were not in the least surprised by his next choice of words.

“Had I arrived earlier, it was quite possible that I’d end up between a rock and a hard place, caught up in their melee. Now, I could simply wait and see how their scuffle played out, reposition, and finish the survivors. Shooting them in the backs is something which a gunslinger and a Terran Spacer like myself has no qualms of doing. After all if the roles were reversed, the scum would gleefully devour me alive as I screamed in pain.”

Northstone swiped another holo-vid on his projector and the guests watched how he proceeded to kill the Jaern. Most died from a single shot to their backs but others received a bonus laser beam to the head. Tired, wounded, and their armor-plating damaged, for someone like Northstone Firehand, dealing with a handful of Jaern hunters wasn’t a shootout, nor the careful dance of melee enabled by mag-boot footwork and spacesuit engines.

It was an execution.

There wasn’t anyone among the guests of The Roundabout or those who watched the Spacer tell his tale via G-Net links, who would even entertain the notion that Jaern deserved any better. Mercy was a gift earned by honorable conduct, not carelessly offered to those who considered the children of sentient beings a delicacy.

Northstone made sure to give his audience a grand view of the butchered battlefield. One after another, they viewed holo-slides and short vids, the colorful vista bolstered by chosen bits of scan-data. The Spacer did indeed make sure to thoroughly scan Jaern bodies and not just in case any of them may have played dead. After spending some of his combat supplies, the Terran looked for spare munitions, power packs above all else.

Rough, nevertheless, the smallish dome built by unknown sentients was left untouched by the Jaern. Those who lay in ambush, they did not dare even use its walls as cover, nor did they hide in and around it. Curious for only but a few of The Roundabout’s guests since people living across Fringe Space were aware that Jaern oft used areas like this as a hunting ground.

“You are, dear guests, acutely aware that fallen Jaern would carry little of value. Though I did entertain hopes that some may still sport useful data-storages, that was not the case. In this particular situation, the only usable loot came from those still in command of their faculties. Meager though it was, I rejoiced to have had gathered a number of half-spent power packs and a few data-chips.”

The Spacer avoided the Jaern flesh and only rummaged through their gear and equipment. Before entering the shelter, Northstone produced a small capsule of chemical disinfectant, spaying the gas all over his suit and vacfoam net full of loot. Of course, there followed a number of cautious scans and visual observations, just in case there were more traps. Gun ready to fire, he entered the dome and closed its airlock.

“When I say that what I found inside was minimalistic, that is perhaps an understatement. Those who last occupied it had stripped the dome of most creature comforts, like beds, chairs, and tables. A bit too big to haul around on one’s back, the nanoprinter towered at the dome’s center. My goggles noticed that there was a life-support system installed and it appeared to be operational. What the shelter lacked, however, I seem to have carried with me.”

Northstone’s holo-slides showed him connecting the looted power core to the dome’s life-support, and, following a cautious scan of his surroundings, his faceplate slid open. The Spacer made a hand sign, one which most space-traveling sentients immediately recognized. He touched his nose and mouth, showing that indeed the insides of that dome stank, yet the air was fine to breathe. Since there weren’t any ice crystals forming on his face or eyelashes, that meant the life-support system had been successfully recalibrated.

“Finally, time came for me to search the supply containers which my initial long-range scan picked up. Suffice to say, following that scuffle with the Jaern, I wasn’t brimming with hope about their content. If the sneaky cannibals had used this area as a hunting ground, they may have had left lures. My fellow spacemen and women, you know of what I speak.”

A number of space scouts and system operators nodded or exchanged signs with their fingers in Fringe Speak. Sensor ghosts could, and often were more dangerous than anti personnel mines.

“Quickly, it became apparent that the real value here was the shelter’s working life-support unit and nanoprinter. It took me some time, but I was able to unlock all containers and recovered the sensor lures placed inside. Quite opportune, those who programmed their sensor ghosts were perhaps not the Jaern. The code-work was too fine, the algos too thorough, something which the munchers often struggled with. I had only make minor changes and intended to use these lures for my own purposes.”

Northstone showed a couple of holo-slides of him searching the containers. He’d been stretching his limbs after exiting the elaborate spacesuit of his. Drawing extra power from the Jaern fusion core so as to not overheat his own, the Spacer arranged for his integrated energy shield to be recharged. First, of course, another round of scans proved there weren’t any mines or booby-traps which could harm him.

What followed was one rather thorough sweep of the dome, including behind and under the containers. The audience did expect their stalwart storyteller to show them field cooking space rations or some new ways to craft advanced power packs from looted ones.

Instead, the Spacer uncovered one strange, old-fashioned blade, which had been stuck under a rusted out crate for what his scans assured him were centuries. The man himself they heard whistling on the holo-vid, audibly demonstrating his surprise.

Northstone gave Jenn a sign and she produced a box under her bar, one which he’d sent before his arrival to the Roundabout. He opened it and raised the sickle-sword in the air, its marvelous to look upon dark-golden blade glistening in the holo-lights. Only the outside of the curve was sharpened, and the lion-shaped pommel appeared to have been modified to hold a space age vibroblade cell. The beautifully forged from a rare metal weapon was in essence a short sword, which an apt swordsman could make grand use of on the battlefield.

“Dear friends, how and why I discovered this olden Egyptian Khopesh sword out in deep space, it was indeed a mystery of the highest order. More, the scans did not catch it since the very metal of its blade defied my device. When I had more time to study the weapon, I came to the conclusion that whoever crafted it, they used the ancient Orichalcum alloy. This one was rare and famously made on Earth by those inhabiting Atlantis, before it sunk beneath the seas.” – explained the Spacer and, having left his seat, made a single downward swing.

The blade cleaved the air with such marvelous to enjoy sound that those who did not look closely were distracted long enough, so they could not see minute traces of glittering white lights left in the blade’s wake. Everyone knew the sound of vibroblades by ear since these were everyday items, but this Khopesh sword sounded entirely different. The audience’s astonishment grew even more, when Northstone Firehand clearly demonstrated that he did not engage the weapon’s vibro module.

“By all the ascended ancestors, how did it even get there?!” – Jenn exclaimed, eyes affixed at the blade whispering – “This blade lacks any hieroglyphics and looks too ancient, older perhaps than... Could it be?!”

“My dear friend,” – began he and deftly returned the Khopesh in its box – “I promised to tell you everything and Northstone Firehand never goes back on his word.”

The bartender slowly closed the lid and placed the box back where she kept it, with visible reverence. With a smile and glint in her eye, Jenn mumbled a short prayer, calling forth her own ancestors to enervate the Jaern, and deliver them the doom they all deserved. Guests of The Roundabout who had knowledge of Terran Space Bikar clubs and their customs, they did not have to imagine what would occur if Jenn or any of her brothers and sisters clashed with the cannibals.

Northstone took another long sip of beer and projected a few more holo-slides. They all centered around the nanoprinter, which was probably one of the most important devices in modern galactic history. Its capability to reforge metals, make spare parts out of bits of salvage among many other things, all depended on the personal crafting abilities of the sentient who used it.

Not just able to craft handguns, elaborate spacesuits, and marvelous starships, Spacers of Northstone’s clan were famed artisans to boot.

“It was true that discovering that ancient Egyptian blade was beyond fortunate, let alone mysterious. One star-month before the beginning of this adventure, my dear friend Vinson give me yet another, thorough lesson in swordsmanship. While I am nowhere near his matchless skill with the blade, he made sure that I was able to hold my own. True it was that whoever brought a gun to a sword fight, more often than not, they lost.”

“Thus,” – began the Spacer and mimicked operating nanoprinter controls – “I was more than happy to employ my humble skill with the nanoprinter, modernize this Khopesh, and augment my spacesuit’s armor. Now that I knew who I was fighting, there was need of more megasteel. Forging six extra power packs from the looted ones was a task I could complete even as a child, with my eye closed and one hand tied behind my back.”

Indeed, the audience soon witnessed how Northstone used broken bits and slabs of Jaern armor-grade alloys to craft extra plates for his suit. Usually, big and wide shields forged of thick metal sheets were standard issue for melee troopers in the space age. Paired with energy shielding, advanced armor-plating, and integrated engines, this was usually how vibroblade wielding soldiers closed in for the kill. However, Northstone was a swift gunslinger and carrying bulky tower shields in battle, not his style.

“While I worked with calm abandon, the scout goggles of my spacesuit set on automatic scan mode, my soul gave thanks to the Universe. Yes, glory be to Life Eternal for the laziness of Jaern scum! Those who prided themselves great hunters and yet, lazed, leaving scanners do their exploration for them.” – said the Spacer and on his face there was the happy grin of one who feared not a day of honest work.

The visage which many a member of the audience sported themselves.

“When I finished my task and marveled upon the sturdy armorplates of my own creation, time came for rest. Yet before I could shut my eye, I first decided to go out and place a few booby-traps of my own. No, not of the exploding kind. Unfortunately, the Jaern had long since wasted any explosive ordinance in whatever hunts they organized to sustain their vile selves. Instead, I laid thin cords of megasteel tread and connected those to various particle-beam guns that the Jaern had on their persons. One small, but tight web of interlocking fields of fire, the triggering of which would immediately alert me.”

Surrounded by the approving laugh and nods of his audience, Northstone raised his pint and drank it dry.

“Thus, I lay down to sleep, but not before compiling all the data-chips I’d looted from the Jaern. The info I decoded and restored provided by these hunters, doomed as they were by their own degeneracy, proved my gut feeling. They were all, even the fallen who survived on the rotten flesh of corpses, part of the same cult. How were they even able to last and where did they acquire ‘food’ was the most uncomfortable question I asked myself.”

(One) “Since I was now able to add more scan-files to my field map, I learned that they had a field hunting camp of sorts nearby. It could be reached via the same piping that I had recently navigated. Bar some traps which they left, automated beamguns and mines, there were hardly any guards left to screen its approaches. I could sneak up on them and using the element of surprise, gun more of the filth dead. Possibly, that camp of theirs contained some form of supply cache, one which I could use.”

(Two) “It was indeed true that I had gained control of a working shelter, had some supply, could craft things, but... what of fuel? Again, by use of the piping and one of the main corridors I could still reach that small hangar guarded by the cybernetically enhanced crew of this derelict. Slaying them could provide me not just with salvage for crafts, but answers. My long-range scans detected fuel; which, in hindsight, could power FSS Bird Of Hope, had I needed her to reach another landing site, perform extensive maneuvers, or a lengthy afterburner. Just in case I had to leave the derelict warship beyond quickly...”

(Three) “That plant vat grower, I could not stop thinking of it. What if there was food or unique alien plants I may have great use of? To think the Jaern had access to sentients so they could feed upon them but never even set a guard post at that location was strange. Indeed, I had a container full of space rations back on FSS Bird Of Hope, one which could last me for months. One man I was, and used to eating less when survival called for it. I thought not for myself but those unfortunate enough to be snatched, shoved in stasis pods, and only awoken for vile cannibals to feast upon. With the shelter now safe I could house them, but... how would I feed dozens of people if I found them?”

(*_*_*)

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