#battlelords

Part 3 if you missed it.

Trannis was not exaggerating.

As each of the crew crowded into the cockpit they couldn’t help but gasp.

The view through the transparent panels that made up three quarters of the surface of the Unbreakable’s cockpit no longer held any stars. Instead, the smooth, nearly featureless surface of the underside of what was clearly a Mutzachan vessel filled the view. Devik leaned over to the edge of a view panel and could then just make out the edge of the massive circular ship, where a faint glint of starlight defined its smooth edge.

“It’s about 800 meters in diameter if anyone cares,” Trannis mumbled with an edge to his voice. Devik knew that the Chatilian was fighting to keep calm with this many minds in such proximity to him. Chatilians couldn’t “turn off” their sensitivity to thoughts and being this close to the entire crew was the Orion equivalent of being in the center of the loudest orchestra ever with every instrument playing a different song at once.

“Have they said anything yet?” came Bofft’s deep voice from behind them all. The edge of uncertainty to it concerned the rest of the crew. Bofft was never uncertain.

“Not yet,” replied Ibrahim solemnly, from behind them all. He was on the duty rotation as scan-com officer at that moment.

“I hope they either tell us what to do so you lot can leave or evaporate us. Either would be a blessed relief.” Trannis was holding his head and leaning as far forward as he could in the pilot’s chair.

“Oh. Yeah. Ok, everyone out! Clean yourselves up! I suspect we are about to get some visitors.”

They all were snapped out of their reverie by Bofft’s growled orders.

“Frek. The orb. I hope it didn’t fly off the table” Devik said to no one in particular as he hustled out of the cockpit.

“Here we go. They’re saying hi,” Ibrahim said from his scan-com station opposite the alcove where Devik was studying the orb. He hit a button and a holo image popped into life just above the central table’s center.

A holographic image of the Mutzachan government symbol was joined by a voice in perfectly accented Alliance Standard, “Stand down and prepare to be boarded by order of the Alliance military. Comply immediately.”

The tone of the Mutzachan message struck everyone, except Valesh, as typical Melon Head. It was drawn out and almost bored. Just like Valesh often spoke.

“Well nothing really works so that won’t be hard. And they know that,” griped Trannis from the cockpit. They all heard him roughly slam a few switches and then climb out of the pilot’s chair to join them. “We’re ‘stood down’ as far as we can step,” the Chatilian snarkily said as he stopped just outside of the cockpit.

“They seem pretty agitated,” Valesh said as he looked to Bofft and then to Ibrahim. “You better answer quickly!”

“Affirmative. Ibrahim, send the message that we comply,” came the Python’s response. “Your people’s lifespans are so long you don’t realize how bored you sound to the rest of us most of the time.”

“Confirmed Mutzachan vessel. We are standing down. Awaiting instructions,” the young human spoke into his implanted transceiver.

The holo image immediately transformed into a stern looking Mutzachan in a very simple, yet elegant uniform. Though unlike most Mutzachans she did not appear delicate. The uniform collar was straining against a well-muscled neck, and her shoulders appeared broader than usual. Her uniform was in a color that none of them recognized. None, apart from Valesh, who paled at the sight of her.

“This is Over-captain Shellot of the Internal Protectorate. Maintain your current positions and await our boarding party. No resistance will be tolerated.” The hologram abruptly disappeared.

“Oh no, we’re in deep shat now,” said Valesh. He was trying to make himself look smaller.

“It’s ‘shit’ buddy,” replied Ibrahim with a grin.

“Sorry,” Valesh mumbled.

“Speak up runt. What’s the deal?” Bofft thundered.

“The Protectorate is equivalent to the Alliance’s Galactic X service. Actually they are the core of X. They are legendary and rarely ever seen in public or talked about by the government. They carry out the dirty work of the Mutzachan military and the highest portions of our government. What could they want with us?”

“C’mon Val, you can’t be that dumb with that big of a head,” Devik replied gesturing at his research alcove.

“They want the orb thingee.” Devik glanced into his alcove. Despite the shaking that threw Devik and the crew around the ship, the orb was remarkably still sitting on its stand on the examination desk. His body computer, however, was lying upside down on the deck. Somehow the cable from the translator module was still connected to its sensor ring that was still attached to the orb.

That’s odd. I don’t recall the cable for that module being that long, but I’m glad it was, Devik thought as he turned back to his comrades.

Just in time to see a large, perfectly circular hole open in the hull right behind Ibrahim.

Devik’s training and long time in space caused him to almost involuntarily take a deep breath and hurl himself to the nearest emergency decom locker. Bofft did the same while Valesh and Ibrahim just gaped at the opening, neither moving at all. Trannis just stood there for some reason looking at the perfectly round hole.

Devik smashed open the decom compartments thin plastic membrane, scrabbling for the temporary breather housed inside. As he frantically tried to pull it over his head he realized that the usual roar of decompression wasn’t there. Neither was there the accompanying sudden wind blast or the slamming of the airtight doors around the room they were in that usually comes with explosive decompression.

“You folks better get up,” mumbled Trannis.

Devik looked over and could see Bofft trying to unfold himself from underneath the central table where the nearest emergency locker had been to him.

The large hole that the Human and Mutzachan were staring at was filled with the black of space as expected, but stepping into their ship at that moment strode a rather tall Mutzachan in a very crisp dark purple uniform, with a very large pistol in one hand while his other hand was raised slightly and seemed to shimmer with some sort of dim light.

“Be still and you will not be harmed!” this Mutzachan shouted at them in Standard.

Devik froze where he was, though Bofft continued to straighten on the way to standing at attention. Valesh and Ibrahim were remaining completely still, both of them having broken out into a sweat. Ibrahim looked like he would rather be in an Arachnid vivisection bag than on the Unbreakable at that moment.

The Mutzachan glared at them all one at a time and then strode over to Valesh. Behind him through the hole came two more Mutzachans, though these two were in some kind of battle armor Devik had never seen. It wasn’t bulky at all like their own, and its surface properties made it very hard to look at; to Devik’s eyes it seemed to be transparent one moment and then subtly vibrating the next. Large featureless helmets sat atop unusually broad shoulders for Mutzachans. The weapons they carried were unfamiliar but the way they were held and swept around the room meant these two were quite adept at their use.

“Stelish! Vo chessla vod greli!” the purple suited Mutzachan shouted in Valesh’s face.

Valesh began mumbling something and pointing at Bofft. “Greliss cono frestlistik Bofft, krassit,” he managed to burble in his native language.

Purple sneered at Valesh and turned to Bofft.

Devik took a chance to look around at their situation. One of the armored melon-heads had positioned himself between the common room and the cockpit, having pushed Trannis out of his way. The other one was standing near the opening in the hull with his weapon trained in the vicinity of Bofft. Not aiming at him really, but it was clear that this character knew who the biggest threat in front of them was.

“So, Captain Bofft is in charge of this vessel,” Purple said sneeringly to Bofft. “Or should I say was in charge of it.”

If Devik wasn’t so frightened, the image in front of him would have been comical. Purple was barely half as tall as Bofft, while the Python probably outweighed him by 450 kilos. What wasn’t funny was that Purple was clearly not intimidated by the huge amphibian in the least.

Bofft rumbled “Explain yourself! By what right ha-” but was cut off by Purple.

“Produce the spherical object that has come into your possession recently. It is regarded as Mutzachan state property and we are here to retrieve it.” The Mutzachan said as he looked around the room.

“Our employers won’t be happy,” mumbled Trannis. Purple’s head snapped around and he glared at the Chatilian and replied to him slowly “Your employers are not my concern. Give the orb to me now or-”

“Enough Krivarris, enough,” a low voice interrupted behind Purple.

Devik could see that Purple was surprised and immediately straightened as he turned around.

“Of course, master,” the Mutzachan snapped out serenely though Devik could tell he was none too happy about the appearance of this new player in their little drama. Both of the armored Mutzachans immediately snapped to attention and held their weapons at rest.

Just behind the now rigid Mutzachan officer in purple, another unusually tall Mutzachan slowly strode onto their ship, aided by a very unusual cane.

In contrast to the rather young looking Purple, this Mutzachan was clearly very old, even for his multi-millennium life-spanned race. His gait was not of the elderly however. It was sure and purposeful with even a touch of grace in the way he, or she for that matter, handled the cane. Devik had never seen a Melon Head that seemed this old and he had enough trouble telling their genders apart.

“Captain Bofft and crew, please excuse my compatriot’s tone, but he is accustomed to getting what he wants. As am I, though I do try to be more polite about it.” The ancient Mutzachan grinned as he looked around the room.

Devik caught sight of a small string of lights embedded in the side of the old one’s head. Implants of some sort, the Orion mused. Very unusual for a Mutzachan. Because of their body’s natural ability to absorb energy, cyber implants were nearly impossible to maintain without tremendous self-control. This guy is something special, Devik thought.

“Of course sir,” growled Bofft. “We did find a spherical object you describe on a barely surveyed world in the LR-17 system. We had stopped there to gather some raw materials for our repro’s and our fusion systems. Valesh,” Bofft nodded in the Mutzachans direction, “noticed a flash of light from orbit that has since appeared to have come from the object. We found it and brought it aboard. After his analysis proved indecisive, our linguist began analyzing a series of characters that had appeared on its surface. That research was underway when you arrived.”

“A bright light seen from orbit? That is unusual,” the Mutzachan newcomer mumbled and seemed to stare off into space for almost a minute. No one said anything. He suddenly looked up and a kind smile brightened his face. “Apologies, but I was lost in thought for moment. My name is Markuus, and I have been studying objects similar to what you have found for a very long time.”

At the mention of the name Markuus Devik saw Valesh nearly faint. The two hundred year old youngster, grabbed the table in front of him to keep from falling over and began mumbling and bowing his head.

“I appreciate your kind words Valesh, but please stop averting your eyes. And I am hardly a ‘legend.’ Don’t you have to be dead to be so?” Markuus softly strode over to Valesh and patted him on the head like a kindly father. Valesh turned bright orange and began sweating profusely.

Markuus kept moving, heading towards where the orb was sitting. “So let us see our little enigma,” gesturing for us to follow him.

Devik began to move toward his alcove, “Just before our power went out courtesy of Mr. Krivarris here, I had discovered what appeared to be a pre-plague Mutzachan honorific preceding what I believed to be an Arachnid name.”

Devik caught a glimpse of Krivarris glowering at him though he remained rooted to his spot.

“Pre-plague. Yes of course. May I?” Markuus asked as he reached down and picked up the sphere. It and his hand appeared to shimmer slightly as he brought it up to his face.

“Yes. You are quite perceptive. And correct.”

“But master, we had no contact with the Arachnids until a few thousand years ago. My parents told me about the first contact stories,” Valesh offered, still with his head down.

“Of course, with the Arachnids, yes . . .”

Markuus let out a little chuckle, and said something in Mutzachan.

He then pulled Devik’s linguistic ring off of the orb and almost instantly the orb was suddenly encased in a crystalline cube despite not having moved from Markuus’ hand.

“Well, that’s that,” he said as he put the cube-encased orb inside his bright blue robe.

“I would like to thank you all for your initiative and diligence in retrieving this very important piece of a vast puzzle. In time, a reward will be coming your way. I will speak to your Master Bluerazor about it at our next family gathering,” Markuus said while winking mischievously at Valesh.

It was too much for Valesh, and he crumpled into a sweaty, orange mess onto the cold deck.

“Oh my. Please see to the boy. I think he became over excited.” Markuus smiled at Valesh as he rose after patting him on the back, and moved to the hull opening, his cane clicking lightly on the ceramo-plas decking.

“Captain Bluerazor knows of this then?” Bofft queried gruffly, and more assertively.

“Well, not yet anyway, but he will when you brief him. He’s been playing his part in this little mystery and it appears you have begun playing yours. Krivarris! We’re going.”

The tall Mutzachan snapped to attention from his place against the wall where he had been glowering at all of them. He barked an order in his native language and his two heavily armed comrades turned and headed back out of the hole in the Unbreakable’s hull. Krivarris stomped off after them without a look back. All of them shimmered and bent in a strange way as they left the Unbreakable and then seemed to disappear into the void of space.

Markuus turned to leave, but hesitated. “I can tell you have a question Mr. Devik,” he said as he turned to the Orion with a sly smile on his face.

Devik laughed a little uneasily. “Well, I understood what you said after your little chuckle.”

“Yes, I thought you might,” Markuus answered leaning forward on his cane and staring at Devik.

“Care to share the joke, pinkie?” hissed Trannis.

“Sure, but I’m not sure I get it. Master Markuus said ‘It’s been a long time old friend.’ “

Devik looked at Markuus as he walked into the hole.

“It’s not possible that you’re that old is it Master Markuus?” Devik called to his back.

“Many things are possible, and I’m afraid my aches and pains make that particular idea very possible. Good bye all. I’m sure we’ll meet again.”

An instant after Markuus stepped off the Unbreakable the hole in the hull was gone. It was if it had never been there.

_________________

It had been nearly an hour since the Mutzachans had left with their little round prize. After quite a bit of arguing about what it had all been about and a lot of wild theories about what the orb was, Devik finally made it back to his alcove to retrieve his body computer.

It was still there lying on the floor, with the linguistics sensor and its cable in a coiled heap lying on top of it. He sighed and crouched down to pick it up and began to examine it for damage as he straightened up.

“That’s weird,” Devik thought to himself as he tried to pull the modules cable from his body computer. It seemed to be fused to the body. After several minutes of diagnostics he could find nothing wrong with the computer or the module, apart from an odd message from his computer indicating that the modules cable did not match the specs that were stored in the machine’s bio-crytalline memory core.

“In what way is it different, Dibby?” Devik asked, using his nickname for his pAI laden computer. “The dimensions of the linguistic module no longer match, dickhead,” his computer softly replied.

“That’s a new one,” Devik said under his breath as he sat down at his console. Asking Dibby to help him learn Earth insults was helping him immensely in getting to understand Ibrahim’s frequent swearing fits at his troublesome jerry-rigged slip drive.

Devik stretched out the module’s cord and noticed it was a lot longer than he remembered and it now had a kind of glazed sheen to its covering.

“What did that Mutzachan do to this thing?” Devik mumbled as he looked closer at the cable.

“I don’t think he did anything, shit-for-brains,” intoned Dibby politely. “Translation task 23 has also just completed, shall I read it to you?”

“I never had time to run task 23. Who told you to do that?” Devik said suspiciously.

“Why the orb of course,” the computer dutifully answered.

Devik sat down in his chair and stared at the linguistics module. After what seemed like a while he quietly asked “What did the translation say?”

“Please help us.”

After a long pause, Dibby continued, “Shall I perform the task again?”

Part 2 in case you missed it

It’s just a ball. Nothing to be afraid of.

Right?

The orb was sitting on Devik’s small desk in a cradle that Valesh had quickly assembled from some scrap parts. The desk sat in a small bump out from the main dining/common area that occupied the center of the crew area of the Unbreakable. A drape pulled across the small alcove gave it a little privacy. At least from everyone except Trannis.

Devik had been studying it visually for over an hour. He’d just sat back down with the enigmatic object after taking a break to get a look at some stars while Trannis was in real space recalculating for their next Slip. Nothing recognizable greeted him through the transparent plasmetal panels that covered almost the entire cockpit, but he hadn’t really expected anything to. The stop was more about a reminder that something real existed after sitting through some time in the Rift. It had always made Devik edgy, no matter how many times he’d been in it. Devik thought it was the quality of light that was evident while in the Rift: it wasn’t dark or light, just there, and there appeared to be no source. Almost like in an imaging studio with all of the lights at half power. It had to be the most neutral thing he’d ever seen. Which made the occasional blurry sighting of something or other stick out even more.

Still, the money was good right? Devik was finding it harder to believe that lately.

“Ok, Mister Orb, let’s try something else,” Devik said in his native Orion tongue as he opened a drawer under his desk and began rummaging around inside. No one on the crew would recognize the slight buzz in his accent that would have identified him as having come from a particularly poor section of his home planet. And that was fine with Devik. He’d left to forget about his life there, not to reminisce.

His fumbling seven-fingered hands finally found what they were looking for and drew out a small rectangular device with a short cable protruding from one end. The cable ended in a metallic ring about three centimeters in diameter. The ring had about a dozen small protuberances along its edges, all of which were a dull blue, except for the largest one, which was a bright green.

Devik pulled his body computer closer and slipped the rectangular end of this translator module into a matching opening on the front of his computer. As the small device in his hand neared the featureless slab front of the body computer, an opening appeared without having to activate anything. Devik grinned. Mutzachan tech always amused him. No matter what shape of sensor equipment he placed in front of this thing, if the equipment was compatible, an exact opening would appear on the face of the machine anywhere he placed it.

The linguistic translator slid in easily, and a glowing white dot on its surface told Devik it was connected to his computer and receiving data from its sensor ring. With plas safety gloves on, he moved the sensor ring over to the orb and placed it against one side, directly centered over some of the microscopic characters that Valesh had discovered. The single green stud on the ring turned blue. That meant data was flowing.

Devik unrolled the computer’s screen, and as it solidified he started to see some images of the characters and attempted translations flow into view. It was mostly just errors and gibberish. Well, Devik, thought, it was never going to be that easy was it?

After about half an hour of observations and running the results through his own personally compiled reference materials, Devik was still stumped. However, one particular character that kept being repeated fairly often along one centimeter of the orb looked oddly familiar.

Devik sat back in his chair, stared at the orb for a moment and then pulled the curtain aside.

“Hey Valesh, come here,” Devik shouted. “I need an opinion.”

“Quiet down back there; the adults are talking!” came a friendly voice from the direction of the cockpit.

“I love you too, Trannis,” Devik replied loudly as Valesh stepped out of the aft corridor into the common room.

“Did you make a breakthrough?” Valesh asked expectantly as he quickly strode over to the curtained alcove.

“Well, not really. Maybe. I don’t know, but I need an opinion from you,” said Devik.

“The only thing I’ve been able to determine so far is that the characters contain about twenty percent pre-Plague Mutzachan lettering. At least I think it is, given some of the characters’ proportions and syntax. Which means this thing is probably tens of thousands of years old, since everyone who knew how to write in that dialect died in the Great Plague, right?”

Valesh nodded but didn’t turn from the screen.

“However, I don’t think it’s Mutzachan. It seems like most of it is phonetic spelling of another language using Mutzachan sounds,” Devik continued in a quiet tone.

He rotated the display of his computer to face Valesh and pointed at a two-character combination that was highlighted in its center. “Do you recognize that?”

Valesh leaned in, as if the screen would offer up more secrets the closer he got. “Mmmm.”

The short Mutzachan got closer and began to manipulate the character on the screen with his thin fingers.

“Yeah, right; it’s close, isn’t it.” Devik mumbled as he watched what Valesh was doing.

“Well, somewhat, I guess. The first character reminds me of something I would see in a few of the classical texts at the first university I attended about seven-hundred years ago. It’s an honorific of sorts, I think,” said Valesh.

“Right. But it’s slightly more complex than the one used today. It’s pronounced “fedat” right?”

“Close. The accent is at the end in this kind of usage. That keeps it more formal. But I don’t have any idea what the second character it’s modifying means. I don’t recognize it at all. It doesn’t even look Mutzachan to me.”

“That’s the other bit of it. I don’t recall pre-Plague Mutzachans applying the “fedat” honorific to anyone other than Mutzachans. I know your people had encountered several intelligent species by that point, but none of them were considered equals.” Devik snickered, “You guys still tend to be a bit arrogant about that big brain you’ve got.”

Valesh smacked Devik in the back of the head lightly. “Keep your opinion to yourself delavic,” he said with a chuckle. Devik hadn’t heard that one yet but Valesh has a pretty colorful and varied insult vocabulary so he filed it away for later research.

Devik leaned in again. “Still that second character looks familiar. I just . . .”

“I know what it is!” Devik shouted and clapped his hand on Valesh’s shoulder. “You see that flourish at the end with the three outward tails? I’ve seen that in some Arachnid intercepts I studied a few years ago. It was part of something else and didn’t look exactly like that, but Alliance intel thought it was a name. Seeing this with an honorific in front of it seems to confirm that.”

Devik leaned back, pleased with himself. He looked over at Valesh who was still staring at the screen, his large brow crinkled in thought.

“But my people had no contact with the Arachnids that far in the past. We didn’t even know they existed until a few thousand years ago. Why would . . .”

At that moment all the power went out and the interior of the Unbreakable was plunged into complete darkness.

Valesh gasped and Devik tried to say something when they were both tossed sideways out of the alcove. Valesh landed on top of the center table while Devik crashed into a chair. The Orion got the worst of it as the chair was locked to the deck while the ship was in space. He bounced off and landed on the deck with a thud. His ribs burned with pain as Devik gasped to get air back in his lungs. He groped around and felt his left side. Nothing felt broken despite the pain.

“We still have gravity!” he heard Valesh croak right in his ear. In the darkness the Mutzachan didn’t realize his mouth was just a few centimeters from Devik’s ear.

“Shut it, damn you!” Devik clicked his tongue on a tooth in a particular way and activated his transceiver.

“Trannis! What the hell just happened!” Devik shouted.

“I wish I knew dummy. We’re not in the Rift anymore either. And before you ask, I have no idea where all our power has gone. Everything is just dead. Reactors, engines, backups, everything. Try and find Bofft and . . . Oh buks, we’re dead.”

“Dead? What do you mean dead?”

Just as suddenly as they went out all of the lights came back on along with the usual humming and vibrations of the Unbreakable running normally.

“Valesh?” came a soft question from Trannis over the ship comms.

Bofft and Ibrahim stumbled into the common room. Ibrahim had a big knot on his forehead that appeared to be growing by the moment. His eyes looked a bit glassy but at least he was upright. Bofft looked the same as always; the immoveable object of various legends.

“Are you two all right?” rumbled Bofft as he made his way to the cockpit without waiting for an answer.

Ibrahim just slumped into one of the chairs. “What the hell happened? One second I was cleaning a plasma race and the next my face is bouncing off a bulkhead.”

“I don’t . . . “ Devik started but was cutoff by Trannis over the comms.

“Valesh, I think your parents are here.”

“Did you hit your head too? It’d be easy ‘cause of how big and empty it is,” chided Devik as he slowly got to his feet.

“Get up here everyone. I’ve never seen one this big before. It’s worth it.,” came Trannis’ reply, ignoring the insult.

Valesh got off the table. “We’re coming. What is it?”

“The biggest damn Mutzachan ship I’ve ever seen. And it looks mean too.” Came the irritated reply.

Part 1 in case you missed it.

Nearly two hours later the Unbreakable III was still traveling in Rift space, with a dull grayish-blue glow entering from the few transparent plasmetal panels that passed for viewports on their converted freighter. An occasional flash of color or change in intensity of the ever-present glow would indicate the ship passed close by some object or anomaly in the Rift. Or, worse yet, one of its natives.

The Unbreakable was built as an ore carrier for Asteroid Mining Consortium nearly a hundred years ago. Built to withstand the harsh gravity distortions of the Tulanem Asteroid Cluster, the ship had strong bones and a cavernous cargo bay but very little in the way of amenities.

Originally designed for a crew of only four, a portion of the cargo hold had been portioned up by Trannis and the Plenifold Yards’ engineers when Bofft’s exploration team purchased it nearly five standard years earlier. Quarters for ten more crew, a science lab, and an astrocartography visualization tank made a big difference for the ship’s new mission as an exploration ship and eventual Rift prospector. While Trannis was generally loathed by most of the crew, like most Chatilians are by non-Chatilians, they couldn’t deny that he had good taste and had made the most of their stops in the Core Worlds to really make their vessel feel like home.

From the outside, though, it looked exactly like what it was: a heavily modified bulky dump-skimmer. In its purest form an AMC-R11 bulk carrier looks like a brick with landing skids. The Unbreakable, however, looked like the aforementioned brick, with several weapons and scan-com pods jutting out here and there, and a large ion drive package tacked onto the stern. This particular ion drive was designed for an Eridani Revenger fast attack cruiser, so the Unbreakable had a tremendous advantage in speed and power output compared to other vessels her size. That drive was their best Rift find yet. But, Devik mused, would it still hold the title after we figured out what this orb was.

The orb, for lack of a better description, sat in the center of their ship’s small iso-tank. Devik thought there was something ominous about it, even though it looked completely inert covered in pollen with the occassional shiny spot left by Valesh’s fingerprints.

Devik mused that it was kind of silly to have the thing sealed away in the tank, since Valesh had already contaminated it by picking it up with his bare hands.

Still, the Orion thought, it was impressive that Valesh’s curiosity overcame his fear and he managed to pick the thing up at all after seeing that hungry quadruped. Hopefully we can find some gloves that fit him and his armor. There’s no way we’re going back to that allergy hellhole to find his dropped pair, Devik sniffed. Or Dorik-i-dan’s plasma sword for that matter.

The entire crew, save for the cryo-ed Eridani, was gathered around the iso-tank’s readout screen, watching the results of Valesh’s tests. Bofft was the only one that didn’t reek from every merc’s old friend: armor-stink. How he had time to wash up was anyone’s guess. All of the crew were glad he did since he barely fit in the science bay, and the rest of them had to crowd around him to see.

Even Trannis was there, eyeing the orb suspiciously, having switched the Unbreakable over to computer control after activating the Slipdrive once the ship had left the solar system’s ecliptic. He had about an hour or so before he had to head back to the cockpit and slip the ship back to realspace to recalculate for the next leg of their journey. They didn’t want to take any chances by staying in Rift space for any longer than they had to. They all still remembered too well what had happened to the Unbreakable II the last time they overstayed their welcome.

“The only thing I can say definitively is that it’s no longer emanating that light that led me to it in the first place,” Valesh said, not taking his large, heavy-lidded eyes off the screen.

“Obviously,” sneered Trannis dryly. “We could see it from orbit. I think if it was still blinking like that we’d all be blind right now.”

“Anything else so far?” Bofft’s voice held just enough menace that Trannis knew to keep his snark in check.

“Not really . . .” Valesh trailed off still in thought. His large bald head was bobbing back and forth, looking from his display to the iso-tank. He paused as if in thought and suddenly got up, pushing his chair back and hitting Ibrahim in the shin.

“Shit, watch it!” grunted Ibrahim as he reached down to push the chair away.

Valesh seemed to ignore Ibrahim and moved in close to the iso-tank, pressing his face and hands up to the clear ceramo casing. Valesh’s large round head obscured the orb from the view of the rest of the crew, despite him being its shortest member.

“What is it?” rumbled Bofft.

Valesh muttered something in his native tongue that none of them recognized and became very still.

Being closest to Valesh at this point, Devik felt it first: that odd sort of prickly static feeling on his skin that meant Valesh was channeling his inner energies as only a Mutzachan could and preparing to direct them in some form at the object of his interest.

Trannis rolled his eyes, signaling he felt it as well, while Ibrahim looked perplexed. He must have never been around Mutzachans before, Devik guessed.

Everyone looked intently at the orb in the iso-chamber, half expecting something dramatic to occur. They were all similarly disappointed when the orb suddenly shifted on its perch about twenty degrees and a puff of pollen blew off it.

Valesh let out a loud sigh. He hadn’t realized he had been holding his breath.

“Well, that was unexpected,” he said.

“What was?” asked Devik.

“Huh?” the Mutzachan mumbled without turning around. Then he seemed to shake himself and then pulled his face and hands from the surface of the iso-tank, leaving slightly dirty smudges.

“Sorry. I was lost there for a moment. I was attempting to play small amounts of energy across the object’s surface as a way to map any conductive features. The sensors in the tank aren’t fine tuned enough to do so. It shouldn’t have had any physical effect on the object whatsoever. But, as you can all see, it most certainly did.”

Valesh sat back down at his console, pulled his chair closer, and began mumbling instructions to the computer in Mutzachan.

“What do you think its reaction means?” asked Bofft.

“That our friend here doesn’t know his vunt from a hole in the ground,” chuckled Trannis.

Devik grinned while Bofft grunted, “Quiet, veg-head.” Trannis then feigned insult but in a particular Chatilian fashion that he was sure only Devik would understand.

“I’m not sure, commander.” Valesh absently mumbled in an aside, ignoring Trannis. “The fact that it moved may seem to indicate some sort of compatibility with the energy my people can command. However, I am one hundred percent positive that this object is not of Mutzachan origin.”

“Why is that?” asked Ibrahim, who was standing in the corridor so as to not have to be too close to Bofft.

He’s still afraid of the big lizards. I wish that kid would grow up, thought Devik as he turned to get a closer look at the orb. Trannis smiled at him, making Devik momentarily angry. How many times did he have to tell him to stay out of his head unless it was an emergency.

“There’s a particular radiation signature that imprints itself on any crystalline or metallic structure that is produced or found naturally in the Mutzachan system. It originates from our star and is just a feature of the environment, but that signature is unique to the Trishmag system. This object does not exhibit such a signature,” Valesh replied.

“Well, it could have originated from any number of technologically advanced worlds in the Alliance then. Or maybe even the Arachnids or Xarians,” said Ibrahim.

“The kid’s right, Valesh,” interjected Devik in an attempt to make sure no one forgot he was there. Bofft just shook his head in response.

“No he’s not. I’m nearly certain of it,” said Valesh, turning to face them all. “This orb is not a natural object; it was manufactured. It’s dimensions are too perfect, and some of the faint discolorations too regular. But it cannot have been manufactured in a traditional manner via machining, casting, molding, additive production, or molecular assemblage. The type of molecular structure that it exhibits could only be produced by the simultaneous assemblage of its individual atoms, which, in my experience, is only possible through the use of energy that only Mutzachans can manipulate.” Valesh frowned. “It is quite curious.”

“But if that’s the case . . .” Bofft was cut off by a soft ping from the science workstation Valesh had been using. The computer said something in Mutzachan that startled Valesh, and he whirled around and sat down quickly.

Devik swore the ship’s computer had the same sort of condescending tone that Trannis had. Those two have clearly been spending too much time together, he thought.

“The orb’s surface has changed,” Valesh announced, barely hiding his amazement. “I’ll have to backtrack to determine which particular rad spectrum it responded to, but there now appears to be some form of writing or pictographs around its diameter.”

Everyone in the alcove unconsciously leaned in to look. They could all see a distinct ring around the center of the spheroid where the pollen had fallen from. There appeared to be something there, but it was so small it looked just like a roughening of the surface.

Valesh was peering at his screen mumbling to himself. “Nearly seven million characters, each about eight microns in height . . .”

Valesh pushed back from his screen and turned to look at Devik.“I have no idea what those figures are, but this is not my area of expertise” said Valesh.

“I wonder what is,” Trannis said under his breath as he turned to walk back to the cockpit. “Let my Orion friend have a crack at it. I hear his best friends are letters. Check that. Only friends,” he offered over his shoulder with a chuckle.

The following is a short story I wrote that was originally intended to be an intro to a new edition of a pen and paper RPG that I owned, Battlelords of the 23rd Century. It was never published after we licensed the game world to someone else so the new edition would actually get done.

Instead of letting it hide in the shadows of my iMac, I am now going to release it to the world in four parts. Part 1 is below. The story makes some assumptions that you know some of the games terminology and species but I think you'll be able to handle that little point of ambiguity. Feel free to comment as I'm interested in feedback. "Stick to drawing you nerd," has already been said so please be more creative. Thank you.

Part 1

“What the fuck is that?” screamed the human over the comms.

“RUN!” shouted Bofft.

Devik was already moving; he had seen the same thing the human had seen but was too startled to shout a warning. He paused long enough to retrieve the smooth slab of his body computer from the bluish toadstool-like plant where he had set it down earlier.

The thing lumbering towards them was big. It looked mad, too, thought Devik, which seemed odd to him since he couldn’t tell which end of it was its face. A gurgling roar erupted from the beast, confirming that Devik didn’t really care to find out.

“RUN, DAMN YOU!” shouted Bofft for the second time. His voice was somewhat muffled as he doubled over in an attempt to scoop up Valesh, who was seemingly rooted to the spot in terror, still clutching the pearlescent orb they had discovered not an hour before.

That noob Valesh isn’t going to make it through one job, thought Devik, as he watched Bofft’s immense arms envelope the tiny Mutzachan and pull him onto his shoulders before taking off in the direction of their ship.

Being picked up by his huge comrade seemed to snap Valesh out of his trance, and he struggled with one hand to grab hold of anything on his rescuer’s armor so he could hang on while desperately clutching their prize. Devik quickly lost sight of the Python Lizard’s armored form as he dove into the dense undergrowth.

A “whump” from a pulse cannon erupted next to Devik. Dorik-i-dan had reacted quickly and was already blasting away at the creature. Devik didn’t need to look, however, to know that the plasma bolts from his weapon weren’t effective; the Eridani’s stream of curses told him as much.

I’ll give the human credit, Devik thought as he crashed through some low, blue-edged leafy plants, creating tiny explosions of bluish-green pollen that seemed to emanate from everything on this planet. “Ibrahim certainly is fast when he wants to be.”

Ibrahim’s long and lean body was pulling ahead of the rest of them. The gear strapped loosely to his light armor was flapping and swinging all over the place, collecting pieces of local foliage as they got caught in the various buckles and straps. Over the team comms everyone could hear him shouting at their pilot. “Trannis! Get the ship hot! Everything went to shit!”

A chuckle came before the reply, “I know already, you dumb fibbets. I’ve been monitoring your helmet cams.” Clicks of switches being hit and the dull whine of their ship’s engines could be heard in the background of his transmission. “I will be there shortly. Out.”

Ibrahim skidded to a halt next to a large rock formation, turned, and raised his left arm in the direction of their pursuer. A loud pop came from the engineering tech’s armored forearm, followed by a streak of flame and smoke as an arm-rocket flew toward the creature.

Devik’s curiosity overcame his fear, and he turned to see the rocket’s effect.

Or lack of effect.

The creature was tough. The explosive warhead seemed to splash off some sort of carapace, barely slowing the thing. Devik got a better look at it as it paused, startled by the explosion.

It reminded him of a Petari Beetle but on a much grander scale. Mottled brown and green in color and supported by four stout legs, it had two long grasping arms at the front that were waving back and forth, each snapping at the air around it with three long fingers. Devik caught a whiff of a sweet smell through his helmet filters, but he couldn’t tell if the scent emanated from the creature or from all the torn up foliage that lay in its wake. He dared not turn up the filters’ sensitivity, or he’d let more of the ubiquitous pollen in. Another sneezing fit might get him eaten this time, he mused. He still couldn’t see a head or a face. Maybe it was underneath?

“Crap,” came Ibrahim’s sigh over the helmet comms. “I only had one, but I don’t think a whole rack would have done any better. Trannis! Where the hell are you?”

“Fool. Let the warriors do their work,” Dorik-i-dan grunted as he slid to a halt about four meters from Devik and turned to face their pursuer.

The beetle-like behemoth shuffled forward, appearing a bit more wary of its prey than before.

“Dorik, head to the ship,” rumbled Bofft. You could hear the menace in the Python Lizard’s voice.

“It is merely a lesser form of life, sir,” replied Dorik. “No Eridani would cower from such a foe.” The last part of his reply was drowned out by a withering blast from his pulse cannon.

Dorik leaned forward as he fired, digging in his back foot to compensate for the large weapon’s recoil. The bright orange light bathed the surrounding area as Devik’s helmet filters darkened to compensate for the blasts.

A quick glance through some now burning native plants and fleeing critters told Devik that this latest volley was just as fruitless as the first.

The Eridani threw down his ineffective pulse cannon and drew his sword. As soon as it left its sheath, Dorik-i-dan activated the plasma edge of the blade, and it began to glow a dull orange with the occasional puff of acrid smoke as the super-heated edge touched an insect or bit of pollen in the humid air. With his empty hand, Dorik yanked the cable from the power pack on his back that connected it to the smoking pulse cannon lying on the ground next to him.

He raised his sword to an attack stance and darted toward their assailant.

“DORIK!”

“Inferior whelp! Taste the wrath of Eri-” Dorik shouted before being sickeningly muted with a loud pop and cracking sound as a heretofore unseen tail with a large bony end swung around and smacked the Eridani aside.

Dorik-i-dan crashed into a tall plant, causing an immense explosion of pollen, practically painting the Eridani in a sickly shade of green. He landed in a tangled heap at the base of the broken plant, almost buried in leaves and shattered stem. It was clear from their unnatural angles that Dorik’s sword arm and right leg were quite broken at the very least; more likely, the crushed armor was the only thing holding them together.

He was clearly unconscious as well. His med-stat reading in the team’s helmet HUDs had just turned to a flashing blue.

“Idiot. More garbage I have to pick up,” grumbled Bofft.

With the beast momentarily distracted, curiously poking with one grasping arm at the Eridani’s plasma sword smoldering at its feet, Bofft trotted back to the Eridani’s crumpled form, grabbed the remaining intact leg, and turned back toward the ship. The added weight didn’t seem to slow him down a bit. The whole team heard a gurgled whimper from Bofft’s other passenger, Valesh, when the hulking lizard began to pick up speed.

Devik grinned as he ran because he could tell that the normally fastidious and ordered Bofft was being none too careful about keeping the Eridani he was dragging from getting more injured. Everyone knew Dorik had an auto cryogenic-injector in his suit anyway, and Bofft was off the hook with the company since Dorik had disobeyed his orders.

Also, Devik was beginning to realize that even carrying two others, Bofft was pulling ahead of him, and now he was the closest to being lunch.

“Hurry up, you cursed brain tangler,” mumbled Devik.

He had barely uttered the phrase when the heat of a plasma blast ripped over his head, exploding not far behind him. He could feel chunks of earth and vegetation pelting off the back of his armor, and flora flamed around him. His helmet optics were slowly coming back to normal after blacking out to save his eyes from the flash.

“I heard you,” sang Trannis with false cheer.

“Hehe. You know I said it with love, you old thought-merchant!” Devik offered his longtime shipmate, with barely disguised relief. Trannis replied with some slopping sounds, which Devik knew were Chatilian kisses.

Up ahead, their ship, the Unbreakable III, was hovering on its a-grav units with its forward turret tracking their pursuer to their right. Devik chanced a look in that direction and saw that the hulking predator was moving more slowly with a still-smoldering divot in its carapace. Perhaps it was thinking this meal wasn’t worth the trouble.

A Chatilian behind the forward, low-slung cockpit glass waved to Devik. Only someone accustomed to Chatlilians would recognize the look of amusement on the pilot’s long, thin face. Someone like Devik. The tall, narrow head covered in large bumps with a silly looking tuque sitting on top at a jaunty angle turned away and continued scanning his instruments. Hmm, from this angle maybe their heads do look like asparagus, thought Devik. The Humans might be on to something. It might be time to finally try eating some.

The Unbreakable’s central main loading ramp began descending, letting the bright lights from the interior bathe the returning team in white light. Ibrahim had leapt onto the ramp before it descended fully.

Devik puffed up to the loading ramp, the last to do so. Steam and air blasts from the ship’s decontamination units were already puffing onto the ramp and the hold’s new occupants. As soon as Devik set foot on the ramp, the last to do so, Trannis began to gain altitude and cycle the ramp closed. As he looked up Ibrahim was nowhere to be seen, while Devik could just see Dorik’s form ahead of him still being dragged by Bofft. Yuck; Dorik had started to leak, too. Eridani blood was all over the ramp, and just then Dorik’s med-stat light went solid blue.

“Oh well. At least the deep-freeze will keep the rest of this trip Eridani free,” Devik mumbled.

Devik slumped down to the hard plasmetal deck and pulled his helmet off, sucking in the cool, familiar air of the Unbreakable. I hate wearing this crap, he thought as he sprayed some water on his face from the nearby wall dispenser. And I need to get in better shape or stay in the ship with Trannis.

Just then another sneezing fit wracked his body, nearly paralyzing him.

Devik looked down to see a fine bluish-green powder scattered over his armor and gear and the deck around him by this latest round of allergic convulsions. Mucus ran from his nose and dripped onto his chest armor. Why the hell did they need an exolinguist on the crew when all we’re doing is picking up garbage, Devik thought as he tried to catch his breath.

“Okay, Valesh,” Devik said, unbuckling his leg armor as he rose to his feet. A puff of decontamination spray hit him square in the face. “Let’s see what you found.”

Wilder Bunch