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The following story is based on the events at Origins 2000. It is the first in the series of setting shaping adventures that will be presented at Origins. We would like to thank all the people involved in making this possible, including: Chris Balow, Chris Daianu, Steve Vrexler, Randy Klinginsmith, S Balcerzak, P Kelly Jr., Patricia McMillin, K Mathis, C Lehmann, Tim Adkins, Greg McMillin, M Goodman, Victor Bushfield, N Lilly, Don Holler, Bill Paulson, Tom Arnold, Mike Buckalew, Karen Setze, James Norman, Brian Olsen
"Fire!" Richard shouted.
With a low hum, the blasters activated. Bands of energy arced across space to the enemy freighter. There was a flash of light as the rear of the ship vaporized, expanding in a cloud of metal. The sensor readings spiked as it engaged its quantum drive and took off at maximum acceleration.
"Kazzog! Get on his tail."
"Yes sir," the bear growled as he began to burn off their velocity. Richard Balthazar, captain of the Triumph, looked down at the scanners. It would take time to burn off their velocity, then they could pursue. By then, it would be well out of weapon range.
"Teiron," Richard said into the comm. "Am I reading this thing right? I've got him pulling away at nine Gs."
"That's right, sir."
"Damn."
Richard had hoped he'd been reading it wrong. At nine G's, the best the Triumph could do was match acceleration. That meant that they were in for the long chase. Richard leaned back in his chair and looked out at the stars. It was going to take patience. Richard was good at patience, but some of his crew…well they were beings of action.
In their own ways, they all were. The Triumph was a privateer, a ship licenced by the ISC to attack enemy shipping. The Privateer Laws were signed in the early days of the war, when the Jeronan empire was taking systems quickly. The theory was that groups of well-armed privateers could attack and capture enemy cargo, and since they followed no intelligence office, they would be difficult to predict and stop.
After a few false starts, they were a success. Now privateers wreaked havoc behind enemy lines, and the Jeronans were feeling the pinch. They had become increasingly aggressive at weeding out privateers, but their own intelligence was spotty at best.
Richard had been a privateer for almost a year. A former marine lieutenant, Richard had excelled in administration and organization. He had been relegated to desk job after desk job. When his tour was up, he had struck out on his own. He told people that he was being held back, but he had ghosts of his own to flee.
"Match their course, will you, buddy?" he asked Kazzog, his kagoth pilot.
Kazzog growled his assent, sounding like a small avalanch. They had burned off enough of their velocity now to take off after the freighter. Kazzog keyed in the course and ramped up the engine to full acceleration.
Kazzog was rare among privateers, a kagoth. Kagoths were a huge, bear-like race. They were utter pacifists and refused to hurt another living being. Kazzog's wife had succumbed to the madness that had recently claimed kagoths throughout the Empire and the ISC, and had become a privateer. Sometime afterwards, Kazzog had found the Triumph and joined the crew. The madness had yet to claim him, but on the Triumph, the pilot didn't fire weapons.
Richard stood and patted his massive pilot on the shoulder. "I'll go tell the crew to get comfortable," he said and left the cockpit.
* * *
The sea of minds ebbed and flowed. It embraced K'Tackle with the warmth of a thousand buzzing carapaces. It hummed and pulsed with the perfect comfort of psychic oneness. It carried K'Tackle like a tide.
The feeling of brotherhood.
It was the warmth of a billion minds. They grew, they lived and they flowed together. It was the feeling of life. It was the feeling of love. It was perfect comfort.
K'Tackle was tossed about the sea, a particle of individuality in a sea of multitude. He was part of a whole which was much greater than the sum of it's parts. A single piece in a living community of intellect.
Above it all were the queens, the gods and mothers of the xatosian race. They guided and cared for this psychic sea, filling it with love, hope and approval.
K'Tackle felt a pang of sadness at the plight of the mindblind. The other races could not feel the sea. They could not bask in the perfect love of the queens. How did they cope, cut off and alone, locked inside their own minds.
He could sense them out there. Alone. Disconnected. Lost.
But there was something else on the sea of minds today. There was something different, beyond the chop and the turbulence of war. There was something outside of the known. Something he had never seen before. Something almost . . . alien.
* * *
"K'Tackle!"
The xatosian bolted awake. He looked about, his heart racing in his thorax. He thrashed about a moment before he realized where he was. In the rec area of the Triumph. Safe.
He looked up into Richard's eyes.
"Can I help you, Captain?"
"I retired a lieutenant. Don't call me captain," Richard replied
out of reflex.
"You are the captain of this ship."
Richard smiled. "Don't saddle me with your naval ranks. Was something wrong? You appeared . . . agitated."
K'Tackle thought about that a moment. "No, captain. Everything is fine."
Richard looked at him a bit longer, as if deciding whether to believe him. After a moment he nodded and looked about the rec area. Everyone was there except for Kazzog. The entire crew. They were a slightly eclectic bunch, a bit atypical. Not many privateer crews had all seven races represented, but there was something else that made them special.
They were all seekers. All of them had lost someone, and would not rest until that person had been found. The interesting thing was they rarely talked about it. Most of them didn't know the others' stories, and none of them knew K'Tackle's role in the matter.
"All right," Richard started. "Most of you have probably figured out what's going on, but here's the briefing. We managed to get one good hit on them, and they fled. They have the same acceleration as we have, and obviously they have the same level of quantum drive. So now we have a waiting game."
"We're following them into enemy territory?" Kithian, their human security expert, asked.
"No. That's the beauty of it. When they fled, we were pretty close. Unless they headed directly away from us, we could have closed enough for another volley. They're headed toward ISC space."
"So they are just going to burn away from us until we give up?" Kithian asked.
"Well without doing the math, I'm guessing that a military ship with a better quantum drive might be able to cause them some trouble."
"They probably couldn't match velocities, they'd either be traveling much slower or much faster," Arluphel, their technician, said.
"Wouldn't stop them from dropping a cloud of ball bearings in the path," Richard said.
"Good point."
Richard looked over the crew. "So they have to try to lose us. The only way to do that is somewhere they can dodge a sensor lock. Arluphel?"
"Yes, sir?"
"You know everything. Any nebulae in the area?"
"No, sir."
Richard nodded. "Well then they'll have to make for a planetary system. They can put a little play in their course. I'm guessing they'll adjust at turn-around."
"We could delay our turn-around and get a pass at them," T'trrrr, their recon expert, said.
"We could, but then we'll start our deceleration late and overshoot our target. Worse, if we take out their engines but not their quantum drive, we have to board faster than light. That would probably destroy both our engines, and even if we could manage it without damaging the engines, our velocities would be so high that we'd have to worry about dust strike."
Even though the interstellar dust would be passing through the quantum drives field with their ships, they would still have a considerable velocity built up. Being hit by a bit of dust at that speed would be like being shot by a bullet, not a welcome prospect in a space suit. Not likely, but the spatial contraction of the quantum drive would increase the odds by a factor of ten thousand.
"Well then. That settles it," Teiron said. "We see where they go."
* * *
Arluphel stared at his engines hard, as if he could milk more speed out of them by strength of will alone. He could hear their hum, going above the auditory range of most races. He was at home in his engine room. He felt a part of something here, something that communicated to the universe at a deep and fundamental level. Most of all, it was something that didn't require him to talk much with other people.
He smiled as he ran a hand along the engines. He could feel them operating. He could sense the flow of the subatomic particles. The tingle of the molecultronics. The throb of power. He was told this was a low-level psychic ability, and maybe it was. It made him one of the best troubleshooters in the ISC. He could just tell what was wrong, when something was broken. It made the other oorts jealous.
Other oorts. It seemed to have been so long since he had seen his family, though he knew it had only been-- he glanced at a watch-- seven months, five days, four hours, zero minutes and twenty-one seconds. Seven months, five days, three hours forty-five minutes and twelve seconds their time, due to minor relativity effects. The math came easy to his oort brain, but perfect memory and the ability to perform the most complex math in his head didn't make the passing of time any easier.
When he had met Farpha in college, it had been like the universe had opened up before him. The thousands of equations and scientific connections dancing through his brain had gained color and meaning. Engines hummed more deeply. Lights flashed more beautifully. He had never expected anything like it, but he knew he was in love.
She was married with an extended family of husbands and wives. They had welcomed Arluphel warmly. Soon, he had married into the family. When the war had started and Farpha had become a privateer, he had stayed behind. He loved his other wives too. It wasn't until she disappeared he realized he loved Farpha most of all.
He had been looking for her ever since.
"Hey, buddy. The insect put you in a trance?"
Arluphel looked up to see Kithian Korr. Kithian was their security expert, and that meant Arluphel liked her. They were the only two crewmembers who had more technical skills than it took to pull a trigger and clean a weapon. Every once in a while, he could almost think of her as one of his wives. It was comforting.
She walked over and tousled his head. Like most human females, she loved to play with his long hair. With an average height of 1.3 meters and with long hair covering their entire humanoid bodies, women thought oorts looked like walking, talking plush toys.
"You should come out and play. We're talking about locking the lion and the wolf in a room together and placing bets."
"Will they be armed?" he asked.
"I'm not taking their weapons."
His mind flashed. "Then the odds are 2.3453563:1 in favor of the Teiron, assuming the combat is melee." Wolves carried monoswords. Lions didn't.
She smiled a warm smile. "You sure you didn't miss your calling as a bookie?"
"That's assuming their reflexes and combat drill ratings haven't changed since the last time they logged time on a training sim."
She shook her head. She had chocolate colored skin and classical features men had told Arluphel were quite attractive. "Now why would you want to be cooped up in here when you could be bilking the crew out of chump bets."
"I'd sleep in here, if it were practical."
She winked. "I know you would, buddy."
She was one of the friendliest members of the crew. Arluphel was sure that he was the only one who had guessed how fragile she actually was (the insect would know it outright). He had heard her crying in her quarters, late at night. She had even come to his room from time to time for comfort. She had lost someone too. Arluphel had guessed that much, though he never pried. It was enough to let her curl up in his bed with him and dump her sorrows into his soft hair. She'd never let all those military types see this kind of weakness, but Arluphel was too much like a big pillow for her to worry about him.
He realized it was probably his turn to speak --you could drive trucks through their pauses. "I'm trying to think of a way to increase the output of the engines."
She looked at him sideways. "Didn't like, a hundred of the brightest oorts in the ISC design those engines?"
He nodded. "I suppose so."
She put a hand on both shoulders and began herding him to the door. "Then come keep me company. You can beat me at the strategy game of your choice."
Arluphel smiled as she drove him out the door like a push-cart. He supposed a game or two wouldn't hurt.
* * *
Sir Teiron howled in glee as he circled the captain. Richard wasn't the fittest man he had ever fought in hand to hand, or rather claw to hand, but he was enough to get the old juices flowing. Teiron circled the man in the small room they had set aside for sparring, both dressed in a light, kinetic armor gi.
In his monochromatic lupine vision, he watched the captain circle, his feet dancing in an attempt to distract. Richard Balthazar was big for a human, almost two meters, and kept himself completely hairless, save his eyelashes and brows. He was fairly muscular, and tried to keep fit. He was right between adulthood and middle age, however old that made a human. He smelled healthy. He smelled happy. He smelled relaxed. He smelled like he was about to strike.
He darted in, slipping through Teiron's guard, landing several padded blows. Teiron struck back with his huge, clawed hand, his protective gear grazing the captain's gi. They broke apart.
"Did that hit?" the wolf asked.
"Not enough to cause problems," the captain said, attacking with a flurry of blows that Teiron mostly blocked. Their styles were very different. The captain fought using the marine corps martial arts called Hard Style. Teiron fought, like all tulgar, with his claws. That was really the only way for a humanoid wolf to fight.
The captain's gi registered all hits. It hardened to protect the captain from injury, and if the blow would have been enough to cause damage, it kept hardening, restricting the man's movements to simulate the injury. Teiron's did the same thing, but it took more hits from punches than claws to have an effect.
They danced around one another some more. Teiron was a better fighter, so he held back a bit. He telegraphed more than he should. He dulled he reflexes. They were both more interested in a good workout than showing, once again, how quickly Teiron could cripple his commanding officer.
Commanding officer. It was strange to have a human commanding officer. Before he went errant from the Knighthood, he had never had a commander from a different race. Humans, or monkeys as they were called by other races, were wild and often reckless. They had charisma, though. Balthazar could convince the crew to follow him into hell, if he wanted. He didn't seem to understand how much power he really had over them. He was in charge because it was his ship, and he was the only one with officer training, but he stayed in charge because of good old monkey charm.
The captain stepped in, trying a throw. Balthazar had never been any good at throws, and Teiron decided it was time to teach the man a lesson. He grabbed the man's arm, twisting around it in a full circle. The gi hardened instantly. Balthazar stepped back, grinning his best monkey grin.
"That must have been bad. My whole sleeve just hardened."
"I tore all the meat off."
The captain tilted his head to one side. "You deboned me?"
"Something like that."
Balthazar shrugged. "We'll call that a kill. Too much bloodloss."
"Again?" Teiron said, stepping back into a starting stance.
The comm buzzed. "Captain?" It was Kithian's voice. She sounded panicked.
The captain turned and looked at the wall speaker. "Yes."
"You better get up here. I think Verassus is about to go off."
* * *
Richard stalked the halls of the ship. It was always bad when Verassus got too edgy. Verassus was a valiesian, a race evolved from dinosaur stock, raptors to be specific. On a whole, valiesians were completely without emotion. Verassus, however, had an adrenaline addiction that forced her to seek out danger. This made her a great fighter, but when she went too long without combat, things could get sticky.
He walked through the door into the rec room. The place was in disarray, like all the furniture had been thrown back. Kithian was cowering in one corner. Arluphel was standing in front of her, holding up a plasma torch as if he would protect her. T'trrr reclined in a chair.
T'trrr was a falar, evolved from great predatory cats. There were three races of falar, and T'trrr was descended from lion stock. The falar had a strict racial hierarchy, and the lions were firmly on top. With this came great arrogance, but also great deadliness. Putting yourself on top of anything made you a target, and the falar were all very vicious.
T'trrr was a hunter and an ex-marine, like Richard. He was humanoid shaped and golden colored. Richard knew his apparent relaxation was a ruse. T'trrr's level of alertness would be knife-bright right now. He only appeared to be lounging in the sun. He might be the answer.
"What's going on here?"
Verassus paced back and forth. She jerked with frenetic birdlike movements and her disproportional arms flailed about. There was a wildness in her eyes. "I have to do ssssomething, captain," she said. She often stuttered her S's when withdrawal became really bad. "I'm going crazy."
"We'll be in battle soon, Verassus." He tried to use his most soothing voice. It didn't seem to work. It never did on valiesians.
"Daysssss. Maybe weeksssss." Her head was weaving back and forth, the pattern hypnotic and disconcerting at the same time. "Can't wait."
"Get on the sensenet. Have a fight or two."
She screached in frustration. "Can't. Tried. No good. Not helping."
Damn, Richard thought. She could usually keep control with the simulated combats. The short battle followed by the long chase seemed to have keyed her up. There would be no easy out on this one. He needed to get her adrenaline pumping.
"Kithian. Arluphel. Get out of here." Richard could hear the big wolf standing behind him as well. "You too, Teiron."
They filed out. Kithian gave him a look of concern before she left. She stopped for a moment, her hand raised as if she might reach out and touch his arm. Then she walked past. It was just Richard, the lion and Verassus now.
"We have to calm you down, Verassus," Richard said.
"It'ssss too late, captain."
Richard shook his head. "Don't call me captain. That's a navy thing."
"I'm sssorry." She looked like she was going to explode.
"I'm afraid your attitude is a bit too insubordinate." He looked around the rec area again. The furniture was all metal. "T'trrr?"
"Yes, sir?" the lion purred. He knew what was coming.
"Beat the crap out of her."
With that, he turned and left, shutting the door behind him. T'trrr would get the job done. This wasn't the first time they had needed to give her a real fight to calm her down. Richard just hoped that Kazzog could bend all the furniture back into shape when it was done.
* * *
Several days later the entire crew met, Kazzog included. Richard had called them all into the rec area, and the bear had managed to reshape the furniture until it was functional again. T'trrr and Verassus had fought themselves to exhaustion, and now they relaxed as their bodies healed. Richard looked over the group.
"Well, I can't imagine any of you missed the turn-around," he said.
The quantum drive did not actually move a ship anywhere. The quantum drive, the key to faster than light travel, simply contracted space in front of the vehicle and lengthened it behind. This meant that a ship traveling from one place to another traveled a much shorter apparent distance, and none of the laws of relativity were broken, or even bent very badly.
But that still meant that ships needed to be moving while the quantum drive was under operation. The reactionless drive and the inexhaustible supply of energy from the vacuum power generator meant that ships chose a heading and then accelerated under maximum power until they reached the halfway point. They then cut engines and turned over with their engines facing their destination. The quantum drive was retasked to operate behind the craft, and the rest of the journey was spent decelerating under maximum power, bringing the ship to a halt when it reached its destination.
"We have a destination, then?" Teiron asked.
"Yes," Richard was watching Arluphel. He didn't need K'Tackle's psychic abilities to realize the oort was agitated. "But you already know where that is, don't you?"
"Yes," the oort replied.
"And where is that?"
"Bonner Durchmusterung +42°2508."
To Richard's surprise, T'trrrr jumped at this information, releasing a growl of surprise. More strangely, the emotionless Verassus seemed to react as well. Richard looked over the three crewmembers carefully before continuing.
"Is there anything you wish to tell me?"
"No!" said T'trrrr.
"Not especially," said Arluphel.
"Well, you better anyway."
"I can't speak for the rest of them," Verassus said, "But an associate of mine disappeared at Bonner Durchmusterung +42°2508. I became a privateer to find him."
"That doesn't sound like you," Richard said.
"He was searching for a cure for our addiction."
"I see."
The valiesians were creatures of logic and instinct without passion. This made them brutal when they perceived a threat, but when they were left alone, adults were generally harmless. A valiesian would think it ridiculous to purposely put themselves in danger. Verassus, however, had her terrible adrenaline addiction. Verassus would take almost any risk for the chance at a cure.
"Well, then," Richard said, turning to Arluphel and T'trrr. "I take you two knew about this?"
"No, sir." Arluphel said. T'trrrr just scowled.
"Then you probably better tell me why you know about this system."
Aruphel looked intensely uncomfortable for a moment, then took a deep breath. "The last I heard from my first wife, she was headed for Bonner Durchmusterung +42°2508."
"Was she looking for a cure for valiesian adrenaline addiction?"
"I don't really know, sir. She was an engineer for a privateer ship. Maybe she was on the same ship as Verassus' friend. She had recently signed on and hadn't told us much about her shipmates yet."
"Is that why you became a privateer?"
"Yes, sir. I searched the system and found nothing. Later, I signed on as a privateer. It's the best way, these days, to cover a lot of space. I've been looking for clues ever since."
"I see." Richard walked over and put a hand on his shoulder. He looked at T'trrrr. "What's your story?"
"Same as theirs, but mine . . . I owe a debt." There was something about the way the falar flipped his great mane that told Richard to let it drop.
"Arluphel, what are the odds of three crewmembers all losing people in that same system?"
Arluphel scratched his head. "Well I don't know the statistics for missing persons, but its safe to say that even two of us ending up on the same ship is astronomical."
"I see."
But Richard Balthazar really didn't see at all.
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