The Province Of Terrans

A Starshatter adventure

(Art source unknown)

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Sci-Friday is here, my Terrans!

That this story is coming to a satisfying conclusion is say too little. Your votes guided the story here and it is again your votes that will end it! I am not going to tease you anymore — please, immerse yourself in this slice of the Starshatter Universe.

Enjoy this chapter and keep voting, my friends. As you see I have written a number of Tanka for Terran-Tuesday. The more and longer your comments, the more ammunition I have for said poem.

For those of you new to VYOA, this is a story of interactive nature, where you, the reader, choose one of three paths standing before the main character. Your vote is the guiding force of this adventure!

With one week between the chapters, there is more than enough time for you to make your decision. Share the story with your friends on Substack, see if they support your choice or vote a different way. Voting cycle will end each Thursday so I may have enough time to complete the chapter.

Those who like can discuss the protagonist’s options and I promise to answer your questions concerting Terran culture, philosophy, and worldbuilding to the best of my ability!

If you like what you read, consider buying any of my published works.

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Index: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 15

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Chapter 14

The inevitability of justice

Captain Zhur walked through the devastated Corpo field camp, circling around a handful of small, yet glowing hot plasma craters. Not a single bit of the combat supplies the mercenaries brought down with them was left. The Terr’aan trained militiamen stripped the enforcers bare of all spare power packs, grenades, medi-packs... they even took their field rations.

“Captn’, ye ain’t gonna like this...” – called one of the few star warriors covering his back, as his beamgun pointed at someone’s corpse.

The Captain looked at her crushed face, sliced arm and leg, and snarled. Despite the terror that War Liar managed to seed inside his heart, Zhur fed his mind and soul with the deep hatred all Clanners felt towards all Terr’aans and their underlings.

“I know she was a Corpo and venerated the coin, but she died on the battlefield.” – The Clanner dipped his thumb in Berul’s blood and painted a small circle on his faceplate – “In Holy Darkness’s name, may She hold her soul in the gloom between dying stars, from Now until the coming of the End.”

There was a long moment of silence, and while the clanners followed their captain’s suit in respect for their fallen comrades, feverish prayers were spoken and Holy Darkness asked to save their skins. Yet, how were they worthy when instead of the sacred void of space, their bones now rotted here, on that muddy rock.

“Sir, what of the contract?” – mumbled another pirate, her arm a charred stump.

Zhur shrugged, and, noticing a single medi-spray that the partisans had missed, picked it up from the mud. Not nearly enough to regenerate his star warrior’s missing hand, nevertheless, she felt much better after injecting her wound.

“We are Clanners.” – Zhur addressed his disheartened, injured crewmates – “If there is a way to take what is ours, we shall find it!”

“But... Sir,” – one of the wounded protested – “we don’t even know where they are!”

“It is the shit-crusted mountain, there they are!” – roared the angry captain and pointed his armored finger at the stumpy, rocky mountainous range – “We will climb it, find whatever tunnel entrance they used to crawl in and out to ambush us, melt it open, and strangle them like baby wozzies.”

If Zhur expected them to display enthusiasm and eagerly follow him, he had another thing coming.

“Melt our way...” – said with contempt in his voice the last Ranger – “using which power packs, captain? We barely have any spares left.”

Gritting with his metal teeth, Captain Zhur replied – “Our ground attack shuttles will do all the melting and we, all the killing.”

“They will perhaps grow mecha legs and walk up the slopes or are you going to carry them up there as they explore the entire mountain?” – snarled the Ranger as he projected a holo-file listing all supplies lost – “Literally all of our spare fuel went out in flames with our field base.”

“I still have some in my spacesuit...” – said Zhur and looked around, his eyes met disheartened looks.

Most of his crewmates had their palms open. It was a sign in Raid, the language of the Clans, which meant they had nothing or a few droplets at best.

“We can disassemble the missile warheads, craft IEDs and blow the tunnels open.” – insisted the captain – “Our honor is at stake here!”

“Not ours.” – sneered the Ranger.

Zhur made one step towards the scout and almost reached for his gun before he regained control over his emotion. Out of the forty star warriors who remained among the living, many had suffered wounds and some lost limbs. Most had no fuel in their spacesuit tanks, carried only a handful of power packs, field rations, and no medi-sprays whatsoever. He had hoped the Terr’aans left without engaging the mercenaries, but no, these furtive bastards destroyed their supplies after wiping them out.

“Captain, do you know how many star-days will it take to just take these apart?! Without the auto-loaders, we’ve got to pry them out of the launch tubes by hand. Reprogramming the warheads alone takes six hours in ideal conditions and we have to do it down here, in the mud, without specialist tools.” – the scout’s voice cut into Zhur’s ego like the molecule sharp edge of a vibro-blade and the captain nearly choked when this one added – “If we even find these imaginary tunnels of yours!”

“Don’t tell me we can’t just sensor link the warheads.” – the captain spat behind his faceplate – “We then carry the entire missile pods up here and...”

“Sure captain, our spacesuits have exoskels, we can lug those pods around. Yet,” – and the Ranger lifted his muddy boot with a loud, squishy sound – “you must have forgotten how deep the mud up here is.”

“Wyrmblade can blast holes in the mountain.” – the captain interjected.

“The Pingers were compromised, captain. Without accurate scan-data feed, the accuracy of all orbital strikes will be moderate at best. And you all know what this means!” – the Ranger doubled down, faceplate open so his comrades could witness his emote.

“Yes, this will take way too long.” – mumbled one of the wounded pirates following a quick set of calculations – “One full star-week at the very least.”

“We braved hunger and pain before.” – grumbled Zhur and clenched his fists – “Those who quit never win!”

“I don’t know about you, captain,” – hissed the Ranger one finger pointed at the gray skies – “but when them Terr’aan marines come, I am not gonna be anywhere near this star system.”

“Yeah, I rather live now and win sometimes later, Sir.” – with pain in her voice muttered the armless star warrior and gave Zhur a saddened look.

Nevermind the rage and terror, Zhur did not become a captain by being foolish. He knew well how to twist words and motivate disheartened crewmates. Like all space pirates of Fringe Space, he also learned when it was furtive to retreat. Yet, his honor was hurt and bled all over, stabbed straight in the heart by the War Liar.

“Evacuate the heavily-wounded as we perform one last search.” – the captain conceded, hissing through his metal teeth – “Three days tops.”

“And then we leave.” – smirked the Ranger.

“Yes.” – agreed Zhur with a nod.

The crew shared looks full of relief and those with missing limbs prepared to leave, when Zhur grumbled a hateful promise:

“Armed with our PPG, one day we will blast this shitty rock to molten chunks!”

“Clanners do not have use for plasma pulse guns, captain. Not much nor many are left alive after this one is fired.” – the Ranger winced, like all space pirates uncomfortable even mentioning a weapon of mass destruction – “Who are you even going to procure it from?”

Zhur was near and, sliding his faceplate open, answered with a vicious smile – “At any price and from the freaking Jaern cannibals if I have to.”

Keeping a haggard formation due to their wounds and damaged spacesuits, the once shiny Clanners limped further away from the still burning battlefield. In a few minutes they reached the two landed shuttles; their point defense turrets slowly rotated, crews ready to open fire at any suspicious sensor readings or visuals.

“Glaive One reporting, Sir.” – buzzed the shuttle’s pilot when Zhur established a comm link.

“Begin recovery of our heavily-wounded, those in critical condition have priority.”

“Acknowledged, opening the cargo ramps. Tell the warriors to secure themselves by way of magboots and vacfoam straps since we don’t have seats anymore. Is there something else... captain?”

“Yes, I want you to detach both your missile pods before liftoff. And tell the second pilots to wire my Ranger all the warhead codes.” – ordered the captain.

“Just be careful fiddling with them bombs, Sir.” – replied the pilot as the first three pirates vanished in her cargo hold.

“Fry the grav-drives if you have to and glide down on your wings, but save as much fuel as possible.” – Zhur addressed both Glaive One and Two – “We may need your grapplers to pick us up later. Two, maybe three star-days the most.”

“Low atmo cable grab, Sir?” – inquired Glaive Two’s pilot.

“Pretend that this stinking planetoid is a proper spaceship and you are recovering stranded crewmates from her hull.”

“Got that, Captain. You’ll have us when you call.”

Zhur watched as his two shuttles detached their missile pods. Heatsinks glowing and grav-drives booming, his starcraft flew up in the gray sky, leaving behind them as minute plasma trails as possible.

Sifting fuel from live munitions was a balmy idea. Even if they did not blow themselves up, this would take too much time. No, the captain had another plan and, snarling while he did all the calculation in his mind, Zhur commanded:

“We are not lugging those up the mountain. Use the plasma torches and some debris to craft four small ramps. Position those towards the mountain and then weld all missile pods in place.”

“Jury-rigged arty?!” – asked the stunned Ranger, yet there was a whiff of confidence in his voice when he added – “No need for scanners, I can use my PDA and holo-optics to aim it!”

“The rest of you, grab a shovel.” – Zhur said and motioned a few spots around their landing zone – “Dig some trenches and weld pillboxes from what’s left of our dropships.”

Confused, the younger pirates looked around as if there would be free shovels waiting for them, just about ready to spring from the ground. A bit annoyed, Zhur picked up a still smoldering piece of a dropship aileron and using his exoskeleton, bent it into shape. Taking a few scoops of dirt, he threw the makeshift shovel their way, motioning the sign command for “Repeat” in Raid.

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“Clever baddies, aren’t they?” – Squeaked Sergeant Blam as he projected the recently recorded data-pack of pirate activity back at the Ops center.

While the wounded had been under constant care, the two hamsters took turns using George’s powerful holo-scope to spy on the Clanners from a safe distance.

“They might get lucky, for sure.” – Nodded Lieutenant Pews and took a cautious glug from his looted can of “Super Slimer Under 9000”.

“Without the mercenaries and their starship’s scanning gear, it will take them far too long to search for our tunnels.” – Vinson agreed watching Pews’s snout turn emerald green, yellow, and then pink in the span of a few seconds – “This is their last ditch attempt at finding us.”

“What can their beams do, I mean if they find us?” – Noln asked from his chair, the words accompanied by a loud belly rumble.

Vinson fixed his hair and hat in hand attempted to explain the worst possible outcome – “If they maneuver their starship in the best possible geostationary orbit, the particle-beams could shatter one or two of the tunnels, causing a nasty earthquake.”

“Planetquake, you mean.” – chuckling said Pews bouncing on his chair, imitating tremors for joke’s sake – “However we name it, you are correct, Sir. Said quake may bury all of us alive.”

“We smoked their scouts, completely spoofed their scanning gear, and made them doubt their every thought. I want to actually see how they’ll find us.” – said the sergeant and gave his lieutenant and the morale officer a snarky grin.

Fan chose this moment to exit the elevator and she walked with the tired walk of someone who hadn’t had any sleep for a week. Noln gave her a gentle hug and she placed a carefully wrapped sammich in his hand, before addressing Vinson:

“Sir, we are managing George’s condition. Thankfully, I’ve learned enough and he is one tough man so the medically induced coma is stable. Five more men are in the same condition, and I am positive that they will all recover.”

“How long can you keep George and the others like that, Fan?” – Vinson asked as she offered him another sammich.

“Over a star-week with all the meds we looted from Director Berul’s filthy mercs.” – said she and stole a look at her hands.

Steady as a rock, her scarred arms did not tremble one bit when Fan mentioned Berul’s name. With a smile Vinson placed his hand on her shoulder and cited from the Morale Officer Handbook:

“There is nothing stronger than a sword reforged, mind emboldened by the living truth, and soul ablaze with life-saving intent!”

Fan clenched her fists, a happy smile blossoming upon her lips – “You know, I am no longer afraid of my scars.”

“One day,” – Noln stood up from his chair – “we will go back to our place of toil and end Gahen Inc. for good.”

“Make sure you send me and those two a link first.” – asked Vinson and took a bite from his sammich.

“Yeah, we wouldn’t miss it for all the choice nuts in this part of Fringe Space!” – chuckled Lieutenant Pews and scratched his now dark-red snout.

(One) “Sir,” – Sergeant Blam said as he munched the last bite of his own sammich – “what if that pirate ship like, does the kablooey?”

“Oh, so you do have a plan to use your TakNuk?” – Vinson asked and took a chair, resting his legs.

“Following that rather insightful Pinger plot of theirs, we have all of their scanning and comm wavelengths, Sir.” – Pews joined in and projected a bunch of calculations alongside a colorful set of holo-slides – “That looted portable shield array will come in handy, and so would the stealth pod.”

The holo-slides showed a cartoony depiction of the modified stealth pod sneaking up to the pirate starship, and using a passive scan from the hamsters’ portable scanner, slipping the TakNuk through the enemy shield. The hamsters would then use the stolen pirate shield to survive the detonation, after they flew a good way away, of course.

“Our TakNuk fren has been lamenting his sad, unexploding fate of late.” – and Sergeant Blam made a face accompanied by the “booom” sound – “Not fair that us biologicals had all the fun, he says.”

“Aahaha...” – Vinson let loose a forced chuckle when he faced the absolutely flabbergasted Noln and Fan – “Excellent hamster joke, am I right?”

(Two) “What if,” – inquired Vinson, following a short silence and the utter devastation of his sammich – “we use said wavelengths to hack that shiny starship instead?”

“For sure!” – Giggling, Lieutenant Pews projected another sets of ludicrously hand-drawn with digital crayons holo-slides – “They can do diddly squat without their main heatsink. Sneaking our carrier wave through their still intact Pingers, and in a day or so, we will be able to completely fuse it.”

“There is that danger, you know.” – warned the sergeant and showed his own set of holo-slides.

These depicted the pirates tracing Lieutenant Pews’s carrier wave and blasting the mountain with a torrent of red hot particle-beams.

“Minimal, I say.” – Said the lieutenant with a grin, his snout finally back to its normal pale whitish color.

(Three) “Sir, I agree that we must not endanger ourselves, but...” – Noln began and pointed at the slid aside holos of jerry-rigged pirate missile pods – “We looted grenade launchers from the mercenaries and still have a handful of plasma warheads.”

Sergeant Pews ran an artillery algo and when he over-imposed all possible attack vectors, it soon became clear that was also a viable solution.

“Meaning, four of us need crawl in range and hide over there. Lurk for a couple of minutes while aiming, then shoot and scoot?” – Vinson asked wincing at the map he soon projected on the main holo.

“Yes, and I think we can make great use of George’s motorcycle.” – as he said this, Noln made adjustments to his plan, marking a few points on the map, all of which were concealed forest trails the bike could traverse.

“I am the best driver here.” – and Vinson picked one of the hardest to navigate but also spot trails – “You two ride behind me and Noln, you will be in the sidecar.”

“‘Alrighty,” – and Blam’s eyes glinted full of counting intent – “finish yer Lothorian sammiches and let’s go turn the Clanner’s last hopes and dreams into plasma craters.”

“TakNuk will be so sad.” – said the lieutenant with a sigh.

“Ahahaha... you nuclear weapon enjoyer you!” – snickered Vinson, desperate to calm the worried Noln and Fan.

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