The Province Of Terrans

A Starshatter adventure

(Art source unknown!)

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Embrace Sci-Friday, my wholesome Terrans!

In today’s chapter, Vinson with give you a taste of what the Terran Word is capable of. Read and imagine how the obnoxious Corpo slaver and her hired Pirate goon squirm.

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 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15

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Chapter 8

I am Hope

When he made his next decision, Vinson beamed with joy.

With his best Terran smile, the Morale Officer took a deep breath. Stern, his eyes became aglow with fervent determination, as he prepared exactly the choice words needed for such a momentous occasion. Though he was sure that the ex-slaves would not willingly bow before their former Corpo masters ever again, terror born out of long years of abuse could hinder the militiamen in the heat of battle.

He came here to save their lives and, whenever possible, enable the doom of yet another slaver. For only a dead parasite sucked the blood of the free, not.

“First, let me introduce myself.” – Vinson gestured at his face – “Morale Officer Vinson... most definitely not at your service.”

A gesture was all they'd get, for military salutes were reserved for the honorable foe.

There was a half star-minute of silence as he observed Director Berul's eyes reading from an off-holo screen. Whatever it was, information about “War Liars” or her company's advanced negotiation directives, he could care less.

“Let us say that, for whatever ridiculous reason, those free people accepted your magnanimous offer.” – he suggested, one hand on George's shoulder – “They then surrender that oh-so-scary, guilty oldster in your hands, all tied up. What would these 'bonus' rations be worth, quality wise?”

Still twirling his mustache, George threw a curious look at Vinson, who gave his friend a comforting nod. Meanwhile, Captain Zhur and Director Berul appeared to have taken the word bait. Especially the latter, who, in time-tested Corpo fashion, immediately began to haggle:

“One... no... two star-months worth of standard rations! Only top quality arthropod paste and choice recycled liquids, of course.”

“Glorified cockroach paste and poorly filtered piss.” – whispered George with a sad smirk – “Always thought I'd be worth a teeny-weeny bit more.”

Noln, while startled by Vinson's initial declaration, noticed the hamster's grinning snout. Sergeant Blam winked, giving him and his wife Fan a sign to remain calm.

“They'll be spared the whip, you said.” – continued the Morale Officer, his grin becoming more vicious with each word – “For a full star-year or... longer?”

“I will sign a mercy waiver for the entire lot! You have my word, they'd have protected inventory status for one star-year.” – The Corpo bitch promised, as she concealed a tiny frown with great skill.

Vinson studied her polished, fake holographic smile. Though 'twas not the same as looking inside a real person's eye, he could discern that the filth was lying through her gene-grafted teeth. Mercy on digi-file, but in reality there'd be pain and most probably, death. Corpos did not simply go out of their way to reclaim “lost property”. It was either to regain lost prestige or the bitch wanted to make an example of those people.

One of the bloody, flayed kind...

“One last, and rather important question.” – Vinson motioned at the holographic image of Captain Zhur – “When their parents surrender, the dear Captain would be taking good care of all those sweet lonely babies, wouldn't he? After all, they were offered clemency by Director Berul.”

Zhur nodded, his shifty eyes studying the Morale Officer's face as he reaffirmed Vinson's grisliest suspicions by uttering – “Tender care.”

The Corpo and her Pirate friend exchanged looks which promised nothing good.

Vinson kept his immaculate composure. He patted George's shoulder once more, pointed at the enemy and then stated with brutal abandon:

“Dream your happy dream while you still can, parasites. Those people have suffered the full measure of your 'clemency' and all have the scars to prove it! To assume they'd surrender he who led them to freedom for a bucket of slop, and doom their babies becoming the playthings of some degenerate or worse, sold for their organs... it is beyond delusional.”

“This is demonstrably untrue! Gahen Inc. is the premier supplier of top quality arthropod protein and our rations are famed for their lusciousness throughout this entire sector of Fringe space.” – The parquet lioness Director Berul barked lie after lie, confirming Vinson's earlier assumption that she was on a tight deadline – “Moreover, the execution of all mercy waivers is strictly observed and protected by Corporate Law Enforcement! I'll have you know, your uneducated assumption concerning the children is beyond vile.”

Truly, a great performance on her part!

The foul Corpo bitch even wept as she complained – “How dare you accuse us of unregulated trafficking of sentient property! Our happy family at Gahen Inc. and my dutiful employee, Captain Zhur, we are all bound by Galactic Assembly and Corporate Law to follow the Core Principles of Servitude without fail.”

Vinson wouldn't be surprised if her timely crocodile tears came from some cybernetic implant, one specifically designed for such instances.

“Moreover,” – Zhur was quick to back up his employer – “Clan honor will be observed or any of us, this captain included, shall suffer dishonorable death by beaming in the back of one's skull.”

“Only the naive would trust in your hypocritical honor or expect justice from your corrupt laws!” – shouted Vinson and pointed at the two holographic faces hovering before him.

“Lies spindled by a desperate Terr'aan, eager to manipulate the gullible for the benefit of his militaristic government!” – grumbled the pirate captain, doubling down on his employer's yak.

“What you say is so far detached from what you do,” – the Morale Officer said as he slowly spread his hands – “one has to navigate hyperspace for days to reach either end.”

Vinson's hands rested upon the handles of his weapons when he declared – “Your filthy kind had long since satiated your thirst with innocent blood, gorged yourselves upon the fruits of slave labor, and fattened your purses by hawking children. All of that and more may have been your way of life, law, and culture, yet the time of this degenerate normality is at an end.”

“Refusing my employer's generous offer was... unwise.” – Captain Zhur showed his metal teeth and there was well controlled anger plastered all over his heartless face as he spoke – “War Liar, your witless pride will cost them their lives, including your own!”

“I had enough of this!” – spat Director Berul and all fake indignation was instantly gone from her voice – “If you do not return in peace, then Captain Zhur's noble warriors will drag you out of your stinking holes by force, kicking and screaming!”

“Those who raise arms against their lawful masters, know this.” – the Corpo continued and as she looked at her fingers, long, sharp metallic claws extended from them – “There will be such pain delivered to your mewling progeny... you'll beg us to end them!”

Monsters could not change what they were.

This was exactly what the Morale Officer was aiming for when he nudged the conversation this way. The more honeyed words those two spoke, the easier it was for the ex-slaves to see through their lies.

His words rekindled memories of their tortured past and the time they lived free made this pain even worse. Those people would not wish to revisit their hopeless past, and they would most certainly lay down their lives to ensure that their progeny was spared such a hell.

“The Terran Morale Officer Corps has only one message for the likes of you.” – Said Vinson and he fixed his tall cap.

“What,” – Captain Zhur sneered at him – “you'll kill us all?”

“I can assure you, captain, that you will.” – Vinson answered and the effect of his smiling face was such, that looking at it made Berul twitch uncomfortably and her cybernetic claws retracted.

“Terr'aan, it is you who are the delusional one!” – The pirate captain laughed, yet there was one rather uncomfortable gleam in his eye while he let loose this forced chuckle of his.

“Everything you do will further hasten your destruction.” – Mysteriously reiterated the Morale Officer while standing at ease, gloved hands behind his back.

“See, Captain? I told you, they are all mad like crazed wozzies!” – Berul joined in on the mockery, her hand pointed at something off screen and she boasted with glee – “Our star warriors are three hundred strong and this number does not include my personal security detail. Fools, you have no chance whatsoever...”

Captain Zhur gave his employer a look full of disdain and the Corpo shut her yapper, yet it was far too late.

“See, Captain?” – now it was Vinson's turn to mock and he continued with a raised eyebrow, his head gently canted to the right – “Down here even your breath will be a doom, let alone everything that you two said till now.”

“W-what we s-said... ?!” – confused mumbled the Corpo, sweat running down her greenish Taz'aran cheeks.

“Talking, walking, sleeping, eating, and... thinking” – using his gloved fingers the Morale Officer eloquently counted in perfect Fringe Speak.

“N-n-no, he is a telepath!” – Berul looked absolutely terrified when she screeched a panicked command – “Quick, activate the psychic nullifiers!”

“Had the Psy-Corps been here, your imposing fleet raider would've been long reduced to a cloud of molten slag.” – hands once more behind his back Vinson assured them – “A Morale Officer needs no high-tech gadgets nor telepathy to be inside his enemy's head.”

“Don't listen to him!” – a bit shaken, Captain Zhur addressed not just Berul, but his entire bridge crew – “This is just a cheap Terr'aan trick, a falsehood spindled by a slick War Liar. No one could wield noetic ability of such caliber!”

Vinson raised an eyebrow.

“No one?” – His Terran smile ever so vicious and finger pointed at his temple he said – “I've been up there ever since you first opened your mouths.”

Panicked chatter conquered the pirate's bridge and came through the Clanner holo-cam sounding almost like the cluck of terrified hens.

“Now I am become Hope, the protector of my kin!” – Vinson calmly recited inside his disciplined beyond measure mind.

Fan was no longer sobbing.

Vinson saw how the changed look in her eyes reflected off the server tower's polished megasteel frame. She'd stood up with her fists clenched, her horribly scarred arms now looked more like a uniform chest full of medals. Even if he was not a Morale Officer, Vinson could not mistake the look of a mother ready to fight a predator with her bare hands but save her child.

Noln was gritting his teeth. Vinson fully expected this newly-sworn militiaman ready to walk through hellfire, but put this pirate and his kin into the ground by any means necessary. He'd gripped the handle of his Terran-made laser pistol so hard that his knuckles were white. Without knowing it, the Lothorian had assumed a close copy of Northstone Firehand's favorite pistol drawing stance.

“I refuse to believe that such a thing is possible! When we deploy down the-” – began the pirate, yet was unceremoniously interrupted by Vinson:

“Yes, do deploy down here my dear captain. The longer you tally, the more time I have to stroll inside those heads of yours.”

“We will see each other on the battlefield! Lies and fancy words won't save you then!” – Zhur stood up from his command chair shaking his vibroblade up in the air.

“Your doom will occur at a time and place of my choosing.” – The Morale Officer spoke these words with such calm confidence, that the furious Captain Zhur swiftly closed his comm link.

Hands still behind his back, Vinson gave Sergeant Blam a nod to keep transmitting his holo and words across the base.

“Watched and heard you did, how your brutal ex-mistress and her hired goon were at a loss for words. More; by use of the Terran Word, I dismantled their obnoxious inner selves. Doubt will lurk in their very thoughts, rob them of their breath, and make them stumble as they walk.”

Vinson gave Noln and Fan a reassuring smile, before he finished his short speech with a recitation:

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

The two ex-slaves left the command center with spring in their step.

George walked to the Ops console and began pulling the holo-files of this conversation, swiping them to his PDA. There was a gleam in the oldster's eye and every couple of moments he'd chuckle, joined by Blam. The hamster had been typing something on the keyboard of his own device and with furious speed nonetheless.

Battlefield correct jokes.

“Lad, I had nearly forgotten how terrifying you Morale Officers were.” – Said the grandpa with a sigh as he saved the last file.

He'd walk near and shake Vinson's hand, patting him on the shoulder.

Vinson pointed his stomach – “Giving verbal knockouts always makes me hungry. Why not go to the chow hall and nab one of these tasty new Lothorian sammiches?”

“Sure, I'll join ya.” – and the oldster showed him a flask that had the letters brandy etched on it – “If ye keeps me drinking company.”

They laughed and George's chortle almost turned into a weep, when Vinson snatched the drinking flask.

“George, your great-granddaughter is never going to forgive me if I let you turn your brand new liver into Italian cheese.” – warned him the Morale Officer as he canted his head.

“Them younglings haff no respect, I say...” – Grumbled the grandpa, sneakily pulling another flask from his back pocket which was, again, swiftly nabbed by ever watchful Vinson.

“Then again,” – and Vinson took a swig giving George his smaller flask – “a few glugs of Rakija never hurt nobody.”

They'd nearly entered the lift when Blam hollered after them – “Sir, I see them Clan baddies floating down in their three dropships all propa' slow, like real careful.”

“May I assume they are not using our little landing pad and going straight for the booby-trapped village?” – Snickered Vinson over the hungry rumble of his belly, agitated by the hefty sip of brandy.

“Affirmative.” – Blam saluted him with his mischievous, yet insufferably cute grin, such that only a hamster could produce.

“Sir it is... boom time?” – Vinson was asked over his comms by Lieutenant Pews.

Every since they arrived, the two combat engineers spent many hours upgrading the improvised booby-traps. The hamsters replaced all homemade charges set to detonate the homes' reinforced basements with their own. They even buried a couple wires too and connected those to an even stealthier detonator, which they concealed inside a small hamster dugout. Said dugout was, of course, nowhere near their hidden mountainous base.

Even a fool could follow a cable if they found it.

“Naah, gotta gib them time to stumble around and trip the booby-traps first.” – Snickered George as he twirled his mustache – “While they are getting chatty, you and the lieutenant can use the comm gear and slowly lurk your way inside their comm network.”

“Sir, we can run a soft interference on their scanning gear.” – Pews chimed in, the sounds of him crunching on some food mixed in with his words – “We just finished our forward Ops dugout early this morning. Be real nice if them baddies start doubting their scanners.”

“Yes, and more of them would learn how to fly without engines.” – Blam nodded as he pitter-pattered over the holo-keyboard with his little hands.

Exactly what should be Vinson's next course of action?

(One) They could grab a sammich from the chow hall, eat it as the Clanners disarmed all the traps, some of them getting themselves blown up in the process. Then, as soon as all gear and supplies from the three dropships was unloaded, flip the boom switch. For sure, this would be a big loss for the enemy, however... They had more dropships, shuttles, warriors, and supplies up there, safe in their starship. Perhaps it was better to delay the “boom time” for a couple of days or a star-week?

(Two) Using the comms gear and slowly combing through enemy traffic was the second option. Trained, experienced engineers were good computer specialists. Definitely not on the level of a commando bunny, with time, the two hamsters would eventually sneak their way inside pirate comm networks. Staying on the periphery, for safety's sake, they'd be able to listen in on low encrypted links and remain hidden for a long, looong time.

(Three) Sending the two deadly chucklers to their forward Ops dugout would definitely cause the most harm in the long run. Vinson had laid the groundwork for the Clanner's crew eventual morale breakdown and the erosion of their cohesion. If their own gear was playing tricks on them, this would lead to many more dying or wounded from the booby-traps. Doubt in their own skill would burrow itself even deeper inside their hearts. Moreover, by messing with their gear, the hamsters would keep the detonation cables hidden for much longer.

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