by Kal Spriggs
As Mike watched the timer countdown, he nudged the thrusters and spun the boat around. He tapped in the commands to bring up the drive even as Pixel looked up, before the engineer could open his mouth, Mike slammed his hand on the initiate button for the drive. Mike just hoped he did it in time.
The world went white and then Mike’s world faded to black.
* * *
Mike opened his eyes and groaned.
His groan turned into a yelp of surprise as something big and angular passed the cockpit window close enough for Mike to see the pockmarks on the surface.
He shook his head, and then felt his muscles tense as something else swept past before he could fully react.
“Ugh, are we dead?” Eric asked.
“No,” Mike said. He flinched as they flashed past another chunk of debris. “Not yet anyway. Ten gravities of acceleration knocked us all out though.” He checked the plotted course. Ariadne had put them dead through the middle of the debris cloud. Of course, he thought, how else to use the gas giant as a slingshot.
“Oh, good… I’m going to pass out now,” Eric said.
Mike unstrapped the seat restraints. He saw Ariadne massage her temples, and Pixel seemed to stir as Mike stood from his seat.
He turned away from the sight of their flight through the debris cloud. He couldn’t face that, not after their remarkable survival. He had to trust in Ariadne’s course, and hope that she knew her job as well as he knew his. Just as he’d trusted in Pixel to bring the engines up and to set up the drive for its pulse. Just as he had trusted Eric, Rastar, and even Anubus to manage the fighting, and Run to save Eric’s life.
Mike had given a lot of trust, more than he had since… since the destruction of the RLF Noriko, he had to admit. More, he had rediscovered hope. He found hope again when he had no real reason to, hope that with the help of these others, many of them strangers, that they would escape.
And so they had. And Mike realized that he’d gained something more than his freedom when they broke out of Penal Station 2214. Mike had learned how to live again. Maybe, just maybe, Mike Golemon hadn’t died after all. Soon they would have to make plans. Soon they would have to find some way to extend their freedom and survival. But not right now.
Right now, Mike figured they had all earned a break.
He looked over at Pixel, “Great job,” then at Ariadne, “You too. We all did good.” He gave a broad smile. “Today was a good day.”
“We nearly died, multiple times. We’ve got a murderous Wrethe aboard, we’re low on food supplies, and we’ve got a Chxor who views us as his own personal lab rats,” Eric said. “Good day… are you insane?”
“We’re alive,” Mike said. “It’s not much… but that’s enough for now.”
Research Notes
The Renegades (Short Story)
* * *
Expeditionary Laboratory Research Notes of Senior Scientist Rhxun
Disclaimer: All of the current experiments and research have been conducted in field conditions without the support of a full laboratory and the equipment necessary for detailed investigation. However, slight modifications to standard procedural analysis can be made to accommodate such a situation. In the interest of proper scientific procedures and maintenance of excellent research, a highly skilled and extremely knowledgeable researcher has exhaustively gone over all findings and applied his particular skills to the issues. Fortunately, as this key researcher is also the primary researcher, all findings are doubly investigated, both in initial research and by a scientist supremely skilled in his fields of expertise, which includes all sciences, particularly those areas of biology, genetics, life sciences, molecular biology, xenology, organic chemistry, and medical science.
Field Notes
Field Notes Disclaimer:
Initial field notes were recorded on scrounged cellulose fiber materials which the humans seem to use after defecation for cleaning purposes. This material proved flimsy and did not retain the recorded information very well. Of particular note, despite their inferior intelligence, the humans noticed the disappearance of this material, which possibly contaminated the research procedure.
Field Notes Overview:
The field notes cover the initial time period with observations of alien humans and their symbiotic companions. The initial time period covers the first 216 hours spent in observation or one full Chxor weekly cycle. During this time, particular note was made of the dominant male and dominant female of the human species, as well as their superstitions, emotional outbursts, and other inferior behavior.
First Thirty Six Hours:
Introductions with the humans has proceeded apace. I have flawlessly integrated myself into their band and I believe they see me as one of their own. After careful observation of their introductory rituals, I gave them my name. A peculiar trait I have noticed is their leader seems to ask for the name multiple times, perhaps as some ritualistic tendency. This seems very inefficient. I, nevertheless, conducted this ritual, as the male showed signs aggressive behavior which might have escalated without my flawless ability to adapt to their primitive society.
The humans proved remarkably ingenious in their attempts to escape the prison transport. In this, I cannot blame them, because labor aboard a penal station is the same as a termination sentence. They initially created a primitive explosive which they attempted to breach the door. Unfortunately, this proved hazardous to our continued survival. As a note, I must add a respirator to my future kit of expedition gear.
I observed the psychic abilities from the single female of the species. It was a very interesting display, the female seemed able to control fire with only the power of her mind. As these abilities are unknown amongst the superior Chxor, I will need to conduct proper research upon humans and other lesser species which display these abilities. The humans seem to think that these emanations come from their brains. This seems unlikely given the overly emotional nature of such species, surely too much brainpower is in use to allow additional activity as psychic emanations.
Arrival to the station allowed me to observe how one human band meets and greets another. I stayed unobtrusive during this time so as to properly observe the process and not interfere. The two bands interacted with much emotional posturing and outbursts. This new band of humans wore decorative marks of unique coloring. I believe such to be sign that they are inducted into the same tribe and have been so for some time. I hope that as this band of humans I have joined does not follow suit, as such colorful displays could be seen as signs of emotional affections once I return to civilized space. I shall have to look into markings that will appear permanent but removable.
The human dominant male, who calls itself ‘Mike’ seemed especially aggressive after the interaction with this other tribe. He initially instigated a strange threatening posture towards the one known as Crowe. This was followed later when he assigned the emotional Ghornath to lead the way to their feeding grounds aboard the station.
This was an excellent example of how the human emotions work against the concepts of logic and efficiency. The smaller human band initiated hostilities with the larger, well-armed, band, much like the human tribal nations have done against the Chxor Empire. Such tactical errors could only be the result of their highly emotional states or primitive cultural imperatives that the Chxor have outgrown. Luckily Chxor guards arrived and interceded before the human internecine warfare could get out of hand. The Ghornath, showing his highly illogical state, seemed bound to continue his aggression, this time against the prison station’s guards. Unfortunately, I had to act in order to preserve my lone Ghornath subject. I used my dart pistol to pacify the large primitive. This also served to cement my own position in the band. More importantly, the loss of the singular Ghornath in the human band would be suboptimal to my cultural and xenothropology research.
Of particular interest is that after the human band’s aggressive display, several other humans approached the dominant male. They seemed attrac
ted by his group’s fierceness, despite their more limited numbers. I think this must be some part of the human psyche, an attraction to their fellow inferiors who struggle against a superior foe. Why this is a survival instinct among such an oddly successful species I am not certain. From a genetic standpoint, it seems like an answer to why the species is a failure. They have bred the desire to fight superior opponents. This will, I believe, lead to their inevitable extinction. Certainly their resistance to proper subjugation by the Chxor is a sign of serious cultural imperatives that I find tantamount to species suicide.
I was surprised when the dominant male, Mike, asked my advice on tactical behavior. While certainly my advanced intellect and logical behavior make me a crucial adviser to his primitive strategy, I had not expected so sophisticated a response as to the creature eliciting advice in regards to Chxor culture and behavior. I realize that I have underestimated the human male, somewhat. I will have to revisit some of my initial assumptions. It seems that humans are not entirely driven by hormonal and emotional responses.
During the aftermath of the small battle, I took time to replenish some of my medical supplies. Most of it had to be field expedient types. In particular, various crude human knives and weapons I appropriated after the small skirmish between my band and the larger. Fortunately, the larger band seemed distracted by the threat of the smaller band and did not notice my acquisitions. Given time and access to chemicals I can also replenish my drug supply.
Following an explosion elsewhere in the station, my band of humans attacked the Chxor guards. I am not sure as to the source of the explosion, however I suspect my band found some means to use that event as a distraction. The Wrethe, a violent and dangerous species, proved his loyalty to the band through his attacks on the Chxor guards. I suspect that the Wrethe, Anubus, feels kinship and company to the other violent members of the band. Certainly some of the humans seemed to revel in the combat. In particular, the actions of the one known as Eric impressed me. He seemed very energetic and active in battle. His reactions, also, seemed particularly fast, even for a human. This suggests that he might be the product of some kind of warrior caste of humans. Although, his low pain threshold and illogical attempts to escape my field surgery after his injury suggest why he no longer in serves in this capacity. The tactical acumen of the dominant male also impressed me. Mike managed to catch a team of Chxor guards which included the station’s chief of security in a crossfire. This required him to use his wounded members as bait for the guard’s attack. How Mike realized the guards would attack and positioned himself to their flank is unknown, but is an interesting datum. His logic in the use of a wounded member of the band as bait impressed me and I see potential in him, particularly if I am given the opportunity to continue my earlier experiments with him as a subject.
It was unfortunate that I could not intervene to prevent the deaths of the low caste Chxor guards. However, as they are very low in caste and the prison duty is a punishment for some other infraction. Therefore, I doubt their loss will significantly impact the Empire as a whole. Indeed, it is most unlikely that the Chxor aboard this station have had or will have ever earned breeding status, therefore their genetic lines are probably inferior in any case. There is, of course, the added issue that my survival required these other Chxor to die. The logical thing, therefore, was to allow their termination.
I encountered a traitor to the Chxor Empire not long after this battle. The Chxor Warden had apparently worked with the human prisoners aboard the station. In exchange for precious metals, the Warden passed messages and allowed the human ‘Fontaine’ to conduct illegal activities aboard the station. While precious metals function as an illegal form of barter amongst the Empire, I find it illogical as to why the Warden would betray the Empire for such a reason. Certainly it brought his destruction as a result. The Empire learned of his treasonous activities and the insurrection aboard the station and dispatched several five-class dreadnoughts. The arrival of that much force would certainly have meant the destruction of the station. Fortunately, the humans secured a simple, in-system transport freighter and managed to escape the station. I had to preserve my crucial knowledge and experience for the benefit of all Chxor, so therefore I strategically positioned myself in the most armored portion of the transport.
The rations aboard the ship are highly efficient and designed for maximum nutrition and long term preservation. This will allow me food for some time, though I will have to monitor their levels carefully and be prepared to engage alternative food sources.
Preliminary Findings
The inferior species such as humans, Ghornath, and Wrethe are extremely emotionally compromised, driven by illogical mental processes, and often behave at a sub-sentient instinctive level. While they do, sometimes, show some limited capabilities at logical behavior, this is often overridden by their primitive natures.
The peculiar mixed nature of the group has an interesting dynamic. They do not behave as tribally as I had originally estimated. In fact, they seem to welcome new members into their band. They have already invested a human called ‘Simon’ which they chose due to his obvious structure-oriented mentality. He is clearly more evolved than most of them and has an almost acceptable appreciation for efficiency and order.
The Gentle One
The Renegades, Book Two
The blue green clouds of the gas giant whipped past the cockpit close enough to touch. Ariadne stared out at the massive shape which filled the entire view. She could see the ripple of clouds and the eddy of currents. They flashed past the crackle of a lightning storm, there and gone in only a few seconds. Ariadne marveled at the beauty even as a part of her hungered to touch the energy of the storm.
“You think you could have brought us any closer?” Mike asked, “I could almost go outside and run my fingers through the clouds.”
Ariadne smiled, “I wouldn’t say that so loud, some of our friends might want to try it.” She bit back a giggle at the thought of Rastar out on the hull trying to catch clouds as they swept past.
The pilot snorted, but when he spoke, Ariadne could hear his serious tone again. “You feel comfortable enough with… them to call them friends?”
Ariadne heard the hesitation in his voice, “I trust all of you. We stuck together through that mess on the station, why should I not?”
Mike looked back up at the passing planet. “For a mind reader, you sure do have an over-inflated opinion of people. You don’t know if they’re worthy of that trust. None of us had any choice but to work together-”
“That’s nonsense, and you know it,” Ariadne said. “We had plenty of choices! We could have given up like those poor people back there, some of us could have sided with Fontaine, and some of us could have gone it on our own.” She ignored his comment about her psychic abilities, even as she shot a glance at the closed hatch behind her. None of the others knew about her ability to read minds. They thought her skills limited to pyrokenetics and navigation. She preferred it that way, people rarely trusted someone who could read or tamper with their thoughts. I don’t even trust myself sometimes…
“None of that would have worked, not like this,” Mike growled. “Working as a group is in our best interests, yes, for now. It won’t be long before that is no longer the case.”
“I understand that,” Ariadne said. “But I think the bonds we have built so far will keep us together, despite our differences. And it is our different backgrounds and skills that make this team work.”
“So we’re a team now?” Mike said. He looked back at her, “Just be careful. You let them inside your guard and they can hurt you.”
“Are you worried that I’ll be hurt?” Ariadne asked.
Mike looked back and his dark eyes met her gaze. “Yeah, actually. As much as I hate to admit it. Once the survival high passed, I actually feel pretty darned good about our little band of misfits. That doesn’t mean, however, that I trust some of them as far as I could throw Rastar.”
Ariadn
e chuckled at the thought of the diminutive Mike even lifting the four armed and four legged alien. Rastar must weigh in at three hundred kilos, she knew, and he stood three meters tall. “Right, well, I’ll be careful.” She took one last gaze at the beauty of the storm-ridden planet. “But I should go back and see how our other passengers are doing.”
“You mean the other escaped prisoners, right?” Mike said. “I’d be doubly careful with them. They didn’t do a damned thing to earn their freedom… nothing besides following our lead.”
“Not everyone has the abilities and skill to do what they want,” Ariadne said. “It’s up to those of us with such abilities to help out the ones who can’t help themselves.”
“Some of them would kill you for a Colonial Drachma,” Mike grunted. “The Chxor didn’t send just anyone to that prison station, they sent the ones who they thought might be the biggest risks, the most dangerous prisoners. Some of them might be decent enough people, but I imagine that a few of them would get locked up in human space too.”
Ariadne sighed, “We’ve come full circle again. Right now it’s in their interest to work with us. I think that if we show them we trust them now, they’ll continue to work with us in the future. If we keep them locked in the cargo hold, we’ll be no better than the Chxor.”
Mike didn’t answer her, and Ariadne gave him a nod of victory as she stepped out of the narrow cockpit. She paused to pull the heavy hatch closed behind her and gave Mike an encouraging smile as it slipped closed. He worries too much, she thought.
She almost ran into Anubus as she turned around. She felt her heart race as the big alien edged into her personal space. The Wrethe’s black fur seemed to absorb the light. His jackal-like head peered down at her, his dark eyes unreadable. His smell, more than anything, reminded her of a weapon. He smelled like a steel blade to her, like the well-oiled sword her foster father had kept in his study.
