Down A Peg

[The Pakkrat]

Down A Peg pt. 37a

The Captain and Astrogator stood in the Clinic as Lt. Ardell worked her Medical Console to analyze the Pharma pills found in the cargo container. The three had procured a single plastic bag of what they had assumed were medicinal drugs. When the scan-analysis was completed, Dead-Hex saw the Medic read the monitor.

“Anaghathikhs,” said the valkyrie in slight confusion.

“Anagathics,” repeated Dead-Hex in the Human tongue of Anglic. “Age-halting drugs.” His Anglic was rusty, but the Merchant knew this category of expensive speculatives.

“What?” asked Capt. Kakhskha whose raspy voice prevented her vocals from true speech.

Ardell snapped in realization, “Drugs one takes, often along with meals, Kakhskha, to halt cell replication errors, effectively halting aging. They won’t make you younger, but we’re looking at immortality in pill form.”

“Who wants to live forever?” half-joked the Astrogator.

“This stuff is illegal back home, Captain,” announced Lt. Ardell. "The Recovery doesn’t allow for anything like this, even though it would help. It’s taboo on Roethoeegaeaegz."

“I know,” whispered Kakhskha.

“And, Dead-Hex,” explained Ardell, “This stuff does have a shelf life. You can’t just sit on a pile of pills and live forever. You still have to eat, sleep and live. But as your Counsellor, imagine this: this stuff does not stop or even slow the age of your mind. Now, in a hundred years or more of looking and feeling crystallized in the same body while you’re mind gets older and more tired of the years, you’ll be looking hard at your laz-pistol to end it all. Get me?”

The two Merchants looked at each other at those words. Dead-Hex spoke for the hoarse Captain, “So, this is either destitute immortality or a fortune in Pharma, right?”

“Did you hear the illegal part, Third Officer?” asked irksome Ardell. “Kakhskha can’t just waltz into any old Startown market and offer up this stuff. If you take this to sell, it has to be down-low, in the underworld. Black market goods, Dead-Hex.”

How well he knew the world of illegal goods. Dead-Hex felt his claw rise over his abdomen and over the spot where he had hidden the Rage-5 Wafer. Nodding his understanding, he looked to the Captain for leadership and hoped Kakhskha was up to this kind of mercantile risk and reward. Together, they had never trafficked in any illegal cargos. Now the Gatherer held both illegal Prole immigrant refugees and illegal drugs.

Kakhskha, as if she had read his mind, merely stared at the clear plastic bag of white pills and nodded.

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down A Peg pt. 38

In the emptiness of Knoellighz parsec 0721, the crew of the Gatherer sat together as five Vargr. Over a single meal that Kakhskha had quietly prepared to the nervous presence of the assembling crew at the table, they ate and heard Dead-Hex report the issues as the Captain had yet to recover her voice. Lt. Ardell had recommended a hot tea laced with butterbee honey. The Astrogator began as everyone dug in with their knives and sporks.

“Sooo, we have 41 tons of expected Freight, supposedly archaeological finds being sent from the former border of the Zhodani Consulate to Apla and perhaps to points Spinward from there.” Dead-Hex read from his Portable Controller in his lap even as he took bites and spoke with his mouth full. “There’s nine confined and ten sleeping Zhodani, Proles as Kakhskha has learned from-….” He looked at Kakhskha who nodded her muzzle for him to continue as she ate. “…from an illegal Wafer containing what I call a demon, a recorded personality of a long-dead criminal. Arrtha, as the Captain tells me, admitted to being a Corsair in life, a Hijacker.” He paused to look at the others.

Professor Zannun had stopped eating, sat back and folded his arms in social defense. Of the crew, perhaps through his body’s paralanguage, wanted nothing to do with illegal people, sensitive Freight or illegal technology.

Dead-Hex’ friend, Lt. Anghal looked blankly at him. A hug from Lt. Ardell who spotted the chocolate female trying to seize up released her from reverie. “And?” she asked.

“And that’s not all,” added Dead-Hex. “We have ten tons of illegal, anagathics, age-halting drugs that are worth a fortune in the back alleys of black markets. They were disguised as Agricultural Imbalances. Had we never looked inside the cargo containers, we would have sold off these drugs for a thousandth of what they are truly worth, and still been guilty of illegal drugs trafficking.”

When the others said nothing, Dead-Hex took facial cues from Lt. Ardell and Capt. Kakhskha to continue his briefing over dinner. “Then there is the mission to ‘save the Sector’, crew. The Zhodani have pulled back their border and haven’t told any of the other polities or their own people it seems. But there is movement of the Passengers and of psions as we saw on the planetarium Psi-Map at the exhibit on Roethoeegaeaegz. The Captain said she saw that the presence of the psionicists in Ghoekhnael Sector was much higher when she was there sixteen years ago. They were much more numerous. Now they’re either dead en mass, or they are moving, most likely Rimward if the Proles who tried to hijack our ship are any correlation. See the trend?”

This time Dead-Hex didn’t wait for an answer. He took more bites to let his words sink in. He hoped there would be questions. But only Anghal seemed to have a questioning expression on her face. He chewed his food and nodded to her, prompting the Chief Engineer.

“You want to sell the cargo and drop the mission, don’t you, Dead-Hex?” accused the Astrogator’s friend. “Make off with the credits and dump the Proles on the next world, huh?” she added in further interrogation.

It stung, Dead-Hex curling his tail under his seat, but a part of him wanted to take the Merchant’s exit from this madness the Gatherer was suffering. Instead he stood his ground, “We can be rich or we can be in jail – or worse. The Tavrchedl’ can call us maladjusted and wipe our minds, turn us about and point us at our employer, the Matron. Look at the UWP of our next stop.” He displayed the charts he had purchased back on Izsiqrl. Apla was a corporate-governed, lawless world without any water, its 10% hydrosphere consisting of something other than water. It was the perfect backcountry to deposit the hijackers.

“No!” said Marine Lt. Ardell. “These people may be low caste, but we can’t push them out an airlock or dump them destitute on what amounts to a Desert world. They tapped that thing for help because they were desperate. Don’t you see the pattern? The Zhodani are acting like herd beasts. Something is goading them Rimward, Proles and their psions. This isn’t their fault, Dead-Hex. They are caught up in the withdrawal of the border and I bet their higher-ups aren’t telling them why. They’re following the flow of the herd, like animals running on instinct. It isn’t public because we are transporting Passengers on a small scale being overlooked by everyone who is even looking. Ancients, I sound like a conspiracy theorist.” At that, the Counsellor continued eating.

Dead-Hex thought the Marine had an increasingly valid point.

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down A Peg pt. 38a

In her silence but then whispering if she could get an in, Kakhskha sat in the meeting and listened. It was only when the argument reached a point of arbitrary decision that she whispered her command preference. Inside herself, the beige female ate the best meal in two days and gauged her remaining Charisma, her perception of self-worth as she saw others’ reactions to her. Though she seemed still in command, Lt. Ardell was standing up for decent sophont rights in the face of Dead-Hex’s cut-and-run ideas. Anghal was siding slowly with the Marine. Dead-Hex was increasingly becoming dependent on calls for Kakhskha, the Captain and a fellow Merchant. He was hoping that their common career would sway the decisions on what to do. Only Professor Zannun was immune to this meeting. The elder Scholar watched the younger Vargr press and pull with their ranks, roles on the Gatherer and of course Charisma. And this was why Kakhskha remained silent. She was still gauging hers.

In all the holovids she had ever seen, the main character a Charismatic male or a noble or powerful female was the Captain of the ship. She sat at helm, chose the courses, fired weapons, ruled with sharp claws and bared her teeth so that her enemies were cowed under her. The ship was a dangerous vessel, brimming with destructive weapons, armored and very fast. The Corsairs were driven from the home system, the day saved. Now however, Kakhskha felt the burden of command.

Her position was behind the hot-shot Pilot ace on the helm. He was the exacting Astrogator. The Engineer was precise. She stood behind him and to her side on the Bridge. She was to watch the Sensors. The elderly Professor covered the Comms. It all had made Kakhskha feel useless to be on the Bridge. Thus, for two days, she had issued orders from her Portable Controller she had grabbed from a surprised Ardell and closed her cabin door in the Medic’s face.

“We stay on the mission,” Kakhskha whispered. She had seen Prof. Zannun sneaking glances at her, silently cueing her to step up and command or put another up as a new Captain. It would not be him. His eyes and paralanguage indicated such. So long as Zannun’s Collector Drive remained functional and used, the Scholar meant to record its performance, do his job on Comms and stay out of big decisions. He was helpful to be sure. The suggestion of desert robes and concealable armor had come from nobody else.

“And the Proles, Captain?” There was that C-word again. Each time Kakhskha heard it, her Charisma was validated at the same time she felt the weight of causality of the decision gate.

“Apla’s Downport,” she answered in her raspy voice. The tea was helping the beige female heal her vocals.

“There,” poked in Dead-Hex. “After this coming jump we’ll be rid of them and move on.”

“We will turn them loose,” added the whispering Captain. “No authorities. No demands. They walk.”

“Decent forgiveness, Kakhskha,” said Ardell the ship’s Counsellor. The timber wolf gray female nodded approvingly.

Smiling weakly, Kakhskha then asked, “Are we done? Because there are two ships on the Sensors at the very limit of our Visor’s range. I think they are derelicts.”

That stopped the meeting with all eyes on Kakhskha. Yet another thing on her list to make calls and decisions.

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down A Peg pt. 39

“The two lovers had danced. Now alone on the space of floor, they slowly parted, each taking something of the other with them. The distance between them increased but was filled with what mattered.” Zannun managed to key off the voice recorder in time for Dead-Hex to turn his head from the helm to look at him on Comms.

“Poetic, Professor,” the Pilot-Astrogator remarked. He had overheard the monologue of the Scholar. “Thinking of writing a novel, maybe taking up the pen of the Author?”

“My hobbies are none of your business, Pilot,” sniffed Zannun using Dead-Hex’ new position on the Bridge.

The crew had scrambled to wash the tableware and pack up the dinner that Capt. Kakhskha had silently cooked. Thanking her, Zannun and the others skipped forward to the Bridge to confirm her announcement. On the Sensors Console when they came in was the Captain. Having cooked, she was freed from cleanup detail. Instead she beat them here and was bringing up imagery, magnifications and other measurements from the various Sensors. As the crew entered, the results were up for all to see. Instead of fielding questions with her ragged whisper, she pointed to a board that best answer the latest query.

On the various displays were two dormant starships. At 500,350 kilometers range, the ships would have been just flickering specks in the night black of space. But on the boards, the two ships were tilted at odd angles in relation to each other. Between the two vessels was a band of debris. Zannun could now see that the one to port was a Zhodani ship while the forward-swept wings and fins of the second marked it as a Vargr ship.

“Behold the most feared and iconic Corsair of the Vargr Extents, young ones,” announced Zannun. “The ship to the right is the infamous Sorrgheg-class Reaver, scourge of the spacelanes.”

“Wow,” murmured Dead-Hex at the helm.

“How will we reach it?” asked Lt. Ardell the valkyrie. She was quite taken with seeing a pirate vessel if Zannun’s assessment of her fascination was correct.

“We could use the HEPlaR Drive,” offered Lt. Anghal. The young chocolate-furred female added, “Our Maneuver Drive won’t work well this far out, over one-thousand Diameters from any planetary, solar or asteroid bodies. But burns from the H-Drive will push us closer, if the Captain thinks it’s worth a closer look.”

“What is the other ship?” asked Dead-Hex. “Do you recognize it, Professor?”

“Only that it has Zhodani dart-like features and curved shapes,” reported the Scholar. “Captain, I am picking up no signals or distress beacons. I think these two lovers wanted to be alone. Are we going?”

The Captain nodded. Her tail swaying was a tell that confirmed it. She was curious with the rest of the younger Vargr. To see a Sorrgheg up close was the stuff of holovids and adolescent dreams.

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down A Peg pt. 40

Zannun read the name in Gvegh on the side of the Reaver ship. Then he spoke again into his voice recorder while standing at the Comms board next to Capt. Kakhskha. “He was rough, a scoundrel. He was Amon’s Blood, and she called him Amon because of it. It mattered not his true name. She was to tame him for the good of her people.”

Capt. Kakhskha had heard Zannun speaking into his dictating program. She smiled at him. Perhaps there was an appreciative ear among the crew after all. “Nice narration, Professor.”

Zannun nodded and wagged his tail. The configuration of the long and sleek Zhodani ship was in visual range as the Gatherer slowed its approach to come alongside the Sorrgheg-class Reaver, a Corsair favorite for piracy and a legendary source of tales in the holovids for young and adventurous Vargr. It was obvious now that the Scholar had taken time to keep a watch on the Zhodani vessel similarly derelict in this dance macabre. The two wrecks were slowly parting but on a starship scale, their rate of separation was negligible. When the Surveyor reached a boarding distance of almost 5oo meters, the HEPlarR Drive burned once to a station keeping relative to the Corsair ship.

There were no lights and Capt. Kakhskha had to play searchlight beams across the black, red and white striped Sorrgheg before Zannun could read the name on the hull. On the dorsal fin was emblazoned the fearsome “flaming eye” an infamous symbol of piracy across the Vargr Extents and reaching all the way here, to the Zhodani Consulate.

The TL-15 Improved Visor was redirected at the Zhodani ship, while the telescopic Scope was pointed at Amon’s Blood since it was at point-blank range. On the former Sensor, Zannun panned the high-tech device over the distant hull before speaking to no-one, “She knew that if Amon escaped, he would return and bring havoc to her people again. She was their only hope, a sacrifice that alone could cool his fires.”

“That’s nice, Professor, but this is an operation, not a novel brainstorming session,” said the Captain now able to fully speak though her voice was still slightly ragged from howling into the night of her cabin. “We search the Corsair first. Then, if we have time, maybe we can have a look at the Zhodani ship. To my frustration, I’m sorry to say, we have no available cargo space save for a half-ton in the Ship’s Locker. So if we claim souvenirs, it’s only to be what we can reasonably carry or drag back. And it better fit through the airlock. Who here is rated in Zero-G maneuvers? The two ships have no gravity active save for their own natural masses.”

Two claws went up. Of course it had to be Dead-Hex and Lt. Anghal. The two Infinity Leaguers were from the Asteroid world of Duelunogorrzuez (Knoellighz 1138) and grew up in various artificial gravity stations, low-grav planetoids and aboard in-system smallcraft. The Pilot-Astrogator had a hopeful, puppy expression on his face that amused Zannun. Chief Engineer Anghal was more cautious in her overall curiosity. Zannun saw the Captain’s ears sag to flatten. He could tell she wanted to search the wrecks too.

“Very well,” she acquiesced to the two Vargr. “I will be monitoring your progress on Sensors and the Professor will keep us patched to your comms. Keep talking and updating us. Lt. Ardell will crew a barbette in overwatch. If you get into big trouble, she can burn an entire ship section with a barbette’s Fusion Gun, so don’t be in that section when you paint a target. But you are to carry your sidearm. Got me?”

“Yes, ma’am,” said the two Leaguers.

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down A Peg pt. 40a

Her name was Ibl Vletlin, and in the prime of her years, she chased after Amon. He was elusive, cunning, wily and dangerous. She knew she was playing with fire. He was well-endowed, armed to his teeth and always in his armor. His brand, the flaming eye, was ever on her mind. She had to have him and she felt his call, his urgency. The two-

“Ancients, Professor,” tsked Capt. Kakhskha who had been looking over at his text-based composition since she had forbidden him voice dictation as the Leaguers reached across the expanse between the Gatherer and the Corsair ship. “Is this going to be a pirate story or a romance?”

“Maybe both, Captain,” reported Zannun, “but since I’ve nothing to do but listen in as the two salivate over their microphones and you and the Marine grouse about not getting first contact…” He trailed off and continued to type.

“I give up,” huffed Capt. Kakhskha.

“Touchdown,” called Lt. Anghal who had leaped the distance ahead of Dead-Hex. “We’re on the hull and making for the nearest airlock.”

The beige female next to Zannun snapped back to her headset and the Scope board to confirm the away team’s location. “I see you. Stay away from the hull breaches. That damage to the armor and hull looks sharp. Enter through either the aft, port or starboard side airlocks into the upper deck Engineering section instead.”

Dead-Hex’s voice sounded next. “Transfer line attached at the portside airlock frame. We can use the electric pulleys to send items over in the basket now that we’ve made it here. We’re about to enter. Anghal, draw your pistol if you’re going in first.”

“I know, Dead-Hex,” complained the Lieutenant over the connection. “I’m ex-Navy or have you forgotten, Merchant? I’m more qualified-“

“Stop it, you two and focus,” called the stern Captain beside Zannun. “Anghal describe what you see as you enter. Dead-Hex, cover her. The Comms board has you synched with Ardell in our port barbette. You can opt for the mining laser if blocked and are careful. Stay frosty and don’t hesitate to paint a Fusion strike if in over your heads.”

The dancers touched on the floor and everyone could feel the energy between them. They swayed and maneuvered, cutting a swath with their fields such than none dare part them.

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down A Peg pt. 41

Marine Lieutenant Ardell sat in Turret #3 on the portside of the Gatherer. Fuming, she cursed the valkyrie service for not training her in maneuvers in microgravity or Zero-G. She and her fellow armors had always been trucked to a siege in a contragravity, armored personnel carrier or G-Carrrier. She had wanted placement in a platoon of drop Marines, those crazy fools who jumped or were spat out of starships in orbital drops to land on the surface with grav-belt assistance or with parachutes over a world with an actual atmosphere. Now, she had been de-selected for a salvage operation that she could have been well suited if only the Gatherer had an air/raft, grav-bike or some other sub-craft that might fit in the cargo bay. But Merchants ruled this boat. Ardell had little to do but sit there and feel the barbette, named Turret #3 despite its larger size, moving slightly in time with every pointing action of Lt. Anghal’s laz-pistol.

Lt. Anghal’s sidearm was linked to her Hazardous Environment Vacc Suit’s comm and thus to the Surveyor’s Comms and finally synced with Ardell’s barbette. Ardell’s boards were about ranges, tactical Sensors, world Sensors and energy consumption for the Fusion Gun and the mining laser in the barbette with her. Though she could let the two fire the barbette with but a pull of their triggers after ‘painting’ a target with their laz-pistols, Ardell preferred to have the final say on whether the ship’s weapons fired on their position. So, she watched, listened to the connection and waited.

“Engineering’s Drives are slagged, Captain,” came Lt. Angal’s report. “We’re in Engineering now. There’s no power, all is dark but we can still proceed forward. There’s room.”

“Watch your rads, guys,” called Capt. Kakhskha from the Bridge of the Gatherer. “If the Power Plant is still hot, don’t go near it.”

“I think it’s been cold for a long time. Thermals are space cold and there’s no local CPU empowered. We’re stepping past the wreckage. Duck your head, Dead-Hex.”

Ardell listened and imagined as the two continued to report their exploration. Civilians. With her Portable Controller in her lap, she decided to chime in, “Anghal, your breathing is too fast. Stop and take a break. If this crate is as old as you say, then you don’t need to rush. It’s not going anywhere. I’ve been monitoring your vitals over the Comms and into your HEVs.”

“A-acknowledged,” replied Lt. Anghal. “Dead-Hex, you can take point. The Medic has a say. I’ll be behind you with my pistol.”

Since she had overheard Prof. Zannun’s verbal narration, Ardell looked to the tactical screen that displayed the not-so-distant Zhodani ship. Long, sleek and with rounded curves, the ship looked smaller than the Corsair. Was it always a male who had to attribute genders to space- and starships? Why were you dancing way out here, in an empty parsec, milady?

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down A Peg pt. 41a

“There’s the door,” grunted Dead-Hex over the Comms. “It’s not working. I’ll try the manual crank.” The pair of explorers had reached what on the known deckplans of a Sorrgheg Reaver had indicated would be the Corsairs’ barracks of boarding troops. The barracks would be where the Vargr pirates lived and slept until needed to lay siege to a disabled enemy vessel. Ardell had seen her share of pirate holovids too in her youth. The infamous Sorrgheg would demolish a prey ship and when it could no longer jump or maneuver, the Corsairs usually boarded G-Carriers and flew between the two vessels to breach the airlock of their victims and enter with guns and swords flashing.

“Ugh. The damned crank is either frozen or jammed,” reported the Leaguer. “Can we cut through with the mining beam?”

Ardell cut in, “Only if you move to the far side of all the Drives and paint the door. It will take time but you have to keep your pistols trained on the door for this to work. Toggle your flash protection visors before you target the door so the beam doesn’t blind you. Captain?”

Over the intercom, Ardell’s friend from Roethoeegaeaegz, Capt. Kakshkha called, “Anghal and Dead-Hex, I want you two to be very careful. A starship weapon, even if a slow mining beam like ours, can destroy an entire compartment at the speed of coherent light. Got me?”

“Yes, ma’am,” called Lt. Anghal’s light, female voice. “We’re backing out and away from the door now. Once Dead-Hex gets behind me, I’ll take the shot from the aft, near the portside Engineering Console and airlock door.”

“I’m warming up the mining beam, Lieutenant,” called Ardell. “You get one shot and then there’s a cool-down, so be on target or suffer a wait.” She could see the targeting board focusing on the dorsal hull of the Reaver. She looked down at her Portable Controller to double-check the pair’s vitals. They were becoming excited.

“I’m painting the door now,” called the Navy female. “Fire when ready.”

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down A Peg pt. 42

Since the barbettes used Control Consoles, manual controls similar to the helm on the Gatherer, Ardell had to grasp the pistol-like grip and pull the trigger on the right handle. The targeting was already synced and locked to the supposed door where Lt. Anghal had pointed her laz-pistol. Through the use of triangulation and the Comms, the mining beam activated its stream of intense cutting laser. Unlike a starship weapon which fired and then went into a cool-down, the mining beam maintained a long stream of continuous energy.

“Wow that’s bright!” called Dead-Hex whom Ardell hoped was safely behind Anghal targeting the obstructing door.

It took seconds for the mining beam to burn through reflective armor, shred its plates and then rip into the hull where Anghal had targeted. When the barbette was depleted of charge, Ardell called out as she checked the pair’s vitals again on the Portable Controller in her lap. “Sound off! You guys okay?”

“Y-yeah, we’re okay,” called Dead-Hex. “Angal.”

There was a pause in communication as Ardell heard through Dead-Hex’s connection him jostling the Engineer.

“S-sorry,” called the Chief Engineer. “I spaced for just a second. Captain. The door is slagged and cooling. We can pass it in moments. Dead-Hex, shine your torch forward.”

Ardell breathed a sigh of relief. She had never used a mining beam before, not being trained in Surveyor classes or asteroid mining with such a beam. She saw the ship’s beam temperature cooling down. Again, the pair’s vitals were excited. Ardell saw only half the lightshow. The Leaguers had just received front row seats.

“This isn’t a barracks,” called Dead-Hex. “I’m seeing Low Berthing, cryo-sleep chambers. About the same number as bunks like the map.”

Ardell nodded and called from Turret #3, “It’s a Frozen Watch room. Those capsules can fit sleeper Marines, to be woken up in prep for a siege. Are they opened?

“No,” called Lt. Anghal, “they’re closed…and occupied.”

“Creepy,” said the Pilot-Astrogator.

Ardell became worried. Why weren’t the warriors out and dead somewhere, either in other compartments, sections or on the Zhodani ship? “Shine a light in the transparent part of the capsules and tell me what you see,” ordered the Medic in her.

“They’re in armor and look ready to fight,” came Dead-Hex’ call. “Whoa! His eyes behind his helmet visor are open. He’s not looking around. Just staring straight. Double-creepy!”

Ardell’s mind turned fast. Swiping away the windows of the vital signs, she began searching through the Medical library by tapping the Medical Console through the ship’s Model/6 Computer. Using extra Cells of processing power, the Medic searched fast. Frozen Watch did not sleep with their eyes open. “What color are his eyes, Dead-Hex? Huh?”

“Ancients!” exclaimed Dead-Hex over the connection. “They’re red irises. His eyes are red, Ardell.”

Red irises. Open eyes. No vitals as those would have been detected by now. These were conditions that Ardell quickly punched into a search in the Portable Controller in her lap.

“Guys,” called Captain Kakhskha. “I think you should take a break.”

“Movement!” called Lt. Anghal. “All the cryo-berths are opening at once. They must have individual power still!” Such was normal that a Low Berth would have its own power in emergent cases where the unit had to be unbolted and transported without awaking a sleeper or a patient.

No. No, it can’t be. The valkyrie stood up fast in the cockpit style Gunnery chair, cracked her head on the overhead panels and exclaimed through her pain, “GET OUT! GET OUT NOW!”

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down A Peg pt. 43

It was like something straight out of a horror holovid to Dead-Hex, only now for real. Space Corsair Zombie Apocalypse! How he was able to make this kind of joke in the back of his head, perhaps as a coping mechanism for what he was seeing before him, was something he no longer had time to process as Vargr instincts took over. He didn’t have to ask if Anghal was caught in another mental lockup again. She stood there and watched as twenty-four, armored Vargr, all with red eyes and blank stares climbed and clambered out of the cryo-sleep capsules. Many longarms, likely laser rifles were dropped to spin in the vacuum of the Frozen Watch chamber. The Corsairs did however manage to clamp their boots to the deck with the magnetized soles of their armor.

Grabbing Anghal from behind, Dead-Hex pulled her back toward the melted door through which they came. With his free claw he opened up with his laz-pistol. His beams either landed and blasted the armor to little effect or they reflected off the red-eyed freaks and into the walls or out the dorsal hole in the hull made by the mining laser. In both cases, the slow-moving, Vargr Corsairs kept advancing at a trembling, shambling pace.

“GET OUT! GET OUT NOW!” came Ardell’s strained scream in Dead-Hex’ lupine ears.

“Move, Anghal!” yelled Dead-Hex as he shook his friend. The female started to comply by stepping fast and climbing back through the shambles of Engineering.

“Don’t shove!” cried Anghal as the two traded taking shots producing the seemingly immune holes the laz-pistols were putting in the armors when lucky enough to penetrate. “And watch your-“

Dead-Hex had forgotten to duck as he had been warned when the pair had explored through Engineering on the Corsair ship. Turning from the slowly-pursuing, red-eyed Corsairs, the Pilot-Astrogator rammed his HEV helmet into the low clearance and nearly lost his magnetized footing. It was a painless collision, but it slowed him down. Past his shoulder came the painting beam from Anghal’s laz-pistol, “Anghal, what in the Ancients’ are you-“ was all he could ask.

“Now, Ardell! Now!” screamed Anghal.

With his back to the red-eyed monstrosities, Dead-Hex could only see Engineering light up once more. Instead of a mining beam this time, the blast of the Gatherer’s Turret #3 Fusion Gun laid waste to the Frozen Watch room, and melting every bit of matter in that compartment. He saw the light from behind him illuminate the wide-eyed stare of his female friend Anghal. She had painted the chamber behind them, allowing Lt. Ardell sitting in that barbette to fire on the Corsair with the charged Fusion Gun.

“C’mon Dead-Hex!” screamed Anghal as she clipped her HEV’s lifeline to the pulley cable leading back to the Surveyor ship from which they had come.

“Cut your lights!” came the call from Ardell. “They’re mainly attracted to light. Go go go!”

Dead-Hex refused to look over his shoulder to see how many of the walking Red-Eyes were still shambling after him. Making the airlock, he snapped on his lifeline and kicked out hard from the Corsair. Floating freely from the airlock frame, the male used his line to spin about and see that at least three of the monsters were crowding the opening. He pulled himself along the connection cable behind Anghal, faster with each grasp. The Corsairs in armor merely waved and tried to reach for the escaping Dead-Hex and Anghal. Thanks to the fact that their visors were still set to stop bright flashes or harsh glare, he was spared blindness as another stream of fusion beam struck the Engineering compartment at the airlock. The final Red-Eyes were engulfed in the blast. Dead-Hex was forced to grab onto the pulley cable when it broke loose from the Sorrgheg.

“Destroy it, Ardell,” came the command from Capt. Kakhskha. “Melt it down entirely.”

“On it, boss!” For the rest of the expanse between the Sorrgheg-class Reaver and the Gatherer, Dead-Hex and Anghal were treated to an even more spectacular lightshow. There would be no salvage heisted from the Corsair.

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down A Peg pt. 44

Kakhskha felt manipulated by the situation. At the insistence of her friend Ardell, she had ordered the two Leaguers to split and enter the Gatherer via the portside and starboard side airlocks. Dead-Hex moaned all the way across the surface of the Surveyor as Lt. Anghal was received by the valkyrie. As the Pilot-Astrogator entered the outer door of the airlock, the beige female scratched behind her right ear and recalled Professor Zannun’s text. The dancers touched on the floor and everyone could feel the energy between them. They swayed and maneuvered, cutting a swath with their fields such than none dare part them.

The passage was beginning to read like double entendre to Kakhskha. Now that Dead-Hex was inside the outer door, she reached up and locked both doors of the airlock, trapping the male who wore her silver torc inside.

“Hey!” exclaimed Dead-Hex as he bounced off the inner door. “What’s going on?”

“Ardell has, as the ship’s Medic, called for Quarantine procedures, Dead-Hex.”

“On us? Why?”

“You two were in the Corsair with what she calls ‘Red Blight’.” Kakhskha’s ears drooped. “Zannun has concurred with Lt. Ardell. You may have it on your HEV.”

“In hard vacuum, Kakhskha?” asked the mottled-gray male in the airlock.

“She’s taking no chances, Dead-Hex. You’ve air now in there. Take off your HEV and your clothes. I left some decontamination shampoo in the 'lock with you. It’s water-free and you are to wash your entire body.”

“This has got to be some kind of prank, Kakhskha,” said Dead-Hex, his voice evidencing frustration at the aftermath destruction of the Corsair ship.

“It’s no joke,” warned the Captain of the Gatherer. “Get naked and scrub down.”

“What? While you watch?”

“Medic’s orders. Ears too.” Kakhskha felt like a dam who was ordering a pup to the showers after playing in the mud in one of the environment domes back on her homeworld.

Through the procedure, Kakhskha tried to remain professional. But deep inside her, the beige female got some form of payback for Dead-Hex getting to see her naked body in the cabin days earlier while she was possessed by Arrtha the demon Wafer. She watched with outward calm but inwardly smiled at seeing all of the Third Officer’s mottled gray and black coloration. The male looked at her repeatedly as he used the entire bottle of shampoo to scrub his body.

“Everywhere Dead-Hex. Medic’s orders.”

“This…this is payback, isn’t it?”

“Blame her, not me,” Kakhskha tried to redirect the male’s ire. “And remember that I didn’t even have control of my body when you barged in on Arrtha. Turnabout.”

“Ah, this IS payback!” exclaimed the Pilot-Astrogator who then turned his back on her. She saw his muscular back and his mottled fur. While not as defined as Zannun, Kakhskha was seeing Dead-Hex without the ridges and shaping of the Seruean, armored bodysuits.

“Did-…Dead-Hex, did you mean what you said to Arrtha?” asked Kakhskha cautiously and with a lowered voice.

The male from Duelunogorrzuez perked his ears stock straight upwards and he stopped shampooing. The reaction tipped Kakshkha off that Dead-Hex knew exactly what she was referring to. He turned to face her on the other side of the door. While she had been trapped behind the Corsair personality of long-dead Arrtha, Kakhskha had heard him say to the demon, we’re married, remember?

Dead-Hex had indeed remembered before falling out under the effects of Ardell’s sedatives that Kakhskha had used the word husband in the cabin. She had never licked a male before that day. Her hide burned with her blushing under her beige facial fur.

The male’s gray eyes bore into Kakhskha’s through the thick, transparent viewport in the inner door of the airlock.

“The naked truth?” Dead-Hex asked her. His unclothed body lost all paralanguage.

“Don’t joke with me, please, Dedhekhsgourz,” she said. Being from a matriarchy, Kakhskha checked over her shoulder to see that the pair were alone on the portside entry. She kept her upright dignity, but her ears were flattened with the request.

The Duelean male Vargr leveled his muzzle at her and said, “I would have much preferred to have said it to you, Kakhskha. Arrtha didn't deserve to hear such.” He scratched his neck underneath the silver torc as if to accentuate the wedding jewelry. “And I do fancy you...deeply.”

After a few seconds, she asked another question. “Can we not tell the others yet?” Kakhskha finally let down her guard.

“We’d never hear the end of it,” half-smiled the male she had called husband.

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down A Peg pt. 44a

After twelve hours in the airlocks, the Leaguers were given clearance by Lt. Ardell. The entire time of their Quarantine confinement, Anghal and Dead-Hex had been ordered to stand up and show their iris coloration repeatedly. Now, in the Galley, the two Vargr ate hungrily a meal prepared by Capt. Kakhskha.

“Red what, again?” asked Dead-Hex.

“Red Blight,” explained the youngest Vargr on the Gatherer. “It’s somewhere between a virus and a fungus. You get it and it’s a one-way trip to an incinerator. We don’t know everything about it accept that after the death of its host, Red Blight can generate a weaker control over its host with the consuming goal of spreading to other animal hosts. It can’t infect plants. While you are alive, the stuff grows inside you painlessly and waits until you die before your synapses fade and the Red Blight can take over your body’s motor functions. No one knows where it comes from, but a person alive who evidences the red irises is infectious the rest of their lives and is taken over once they die.”

“Holovid stuff, Medic,” said the sobering Pilot-Astrogator.

“No joking, Dead-Hex,” warned Lt. Ardell. “This stuff has wiped out entire space station populations. I can only imagine what it could do to a high-population world.”

Lt. Anghal looked to the Captain and asked, “Are we going to explore the Zhodani ship?”

“It will cost us a little more fuel to burn over with the HEPlaR drive, Lieutenant,” answered Capt. Kakskha. “I’ll need your projected expenditure if we are going over there. Prof. Zannun thinks we should leave it, mark its position and then alert the next Zhodani authority we find. Maybe it will garner us a finder’s reward. We really don’t have any cargo space to conduct salvage. This was part of my…tantrum in my cabin. We could have made a serious profit off of those two ships.”

“Unless the Zhodani ship was also diseased with that blight stuff,” interjected Dead-Hex as he washed his bowl from the meal.

“Another reason not to risk it,” nodded Kakhskha. “Lt. Ardell will provide a report we can upload along with the coordinates, vector and velocity of the Zhodani ship. We can perform a fly-by, snap pictures of the ship, its name and its condition, to warn them.”

Lt. Ardell stood straighter, “Yes, ma’am.” Anghal and Dead-Hex acknowledged as firmly. To Dead-Hex, none seemed to want to risk an infection.

Later, Chief Engineer Anghal reported to the crew that the ship was narrowing the gap from using too much fuel to perform the two-parsec jump to Apla. “We can instead jump to Rdozhinspazh only one parsec away and still have the fuel to explore the Zhodani ship.”

“We’ve all agreed that this is too big for us, Lietenant,” declared the Captain gently. “We stay on mission and hope for a small reward.”

The Engineer nodded. Dead-Hex guessed that his friend did not like the citrus aroma of the water-free, contamination shampoo any more than he did.
On the way to the Bridge Astrogation boards, Dead-Hex caught a glance of Prof. Zannun’s text composition and read it over the black-furred male’s shoulder.

Their families would never accept their dance or their joining. She was left alone in a slow, decaying solitude to contemplate this fate.

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down A Peg pt. 45

“We’re lucky that mainworld Apla has a smaller Large Gas Giant in the orbit immediately next to it,” explained Dead-Hex. He was in the Commons Area and lightly picking out a somber guitar tune he had spent most of jump learning. Across from the Pilot-Astrogator at the roundtable was Kakhskha. She watched him intently as she considered the order of operations the Gatherer would take after jump breakout. It was the last day of the estimated 168 hours of jump duration. Kakhskha was expecting jump rumblings to occur soon. It was morning and breakfast was already served. The others were doling out the meal to the Proles in the nine staterooms. All pretense of High Passage had been dropped the moment Arrtha had been pulled out of her skull.

“So, we can fuel up and easily transit to Apla?” asked Kakhskha. She was carefully keeping her claws off business while listening to Dead-Hex play his twelve-string guitar. Dead-Hex no longer smelled of citrus de-con shampoo. He was once again dressed in the Seruean armor suits per the mission.

“Smaller Gas Giants require less gees of performance from a Maneuver Drive,” explained the Pilot-Astrogator. He continued to pluck the tight strings of the Duelean instrument with his claws. “When we top off the tanks, it will be less time to make it to Apla and be rid of our ‘passengers’, the illegal cargo, the freight, the Nectars you bought on Izsiqrl and maybe collect on that Zhodani wreck.” He paused his tune and noticed Kakhskha staring at him. Blushing slightly, Kakhskha’s eyes dropped to the wedding jewelry with its amethyst crystal stone. Now, she wished she had purchased a more expensive mineral.

To curb his attention on her as it was not customary for females to woo males, Kakhskha asked the male from Duelunogorrzuez, “Do you think you can handle the contraband while I sell off the Nectars, Dead-Hex?”

“According to the UWP list for Yeplzhaf Subsector,” half-smiled Dead-Hex, “and if it is accurate, we should have no trouble with the local law given that some Zhodani heavy equipment company owns Apla.” His tail wagged at her question. “But their population is very low and I think this is some kind of stopover for the company’s operations, under 10,000 Zhodani.”

“If it’s that low, Dead-Hex,” asked Kakhkha, “are you going to have trouble finding a buyer for the anagathics?”

“Since we picked up ten tons of listed ‘Ag Imbalances’, or our longevity drugs as we discovered, on a Fluid Hydrographics world and are selling them on Apla with its 30% Fluid lakes world, they match up, both in terms of Trade Classifications with the bonus of its Imbalance label. If you let me field this one; I may not be the Broker you are, Kakhskha, but I can get the drugs sold. With you simultaneously delivering the Freight and selling the legal Nectars, we should be able to cut a profit. Dunno how much, but let me work my magic and we’ll soon be gone and good to jump finally to Zhiblchins.”

At that, Kakhskha smiled and wagged her tail. She had plans to go shopping again, “I’m taking Lt. Ardell with me to see about the finders’ reward and go shopping. I need a hand computer that can connect with a Wafer.”

“Arrtha?”

With a shrewd cringe, the beige female smiled. Then the jump rumblings began and the two got up and prepared for jump precipitation.

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down A Peg pt. 45a

215-1105 Apla (Knoellighz 0521) E5A3310-8 FL Lo ZhCs
http://wiki.travellerrpg.com/Apla_(world)

Dressed in his Seruean bodysuit mostly sealed with an oxygen supply, draped with the desert robe and topped with the Psi-Shield shemagh; Dead-Hex made his way through the local night after a long day. He had skimmed the Gatherer for fuel, landed on the gypsum powder Downport fields and spent most of the night trolling for Low Passengers and hunting down a buyer. Finding a purchaser for “Ag Imbalances” was only the first step. Upon the initial offers, the buyer wanted to look at the goods and when the Vargr displayed and explained the ten tons of Pharma, things became very quiet until Dead-Hex could seal the deal and acquire a Zhodani credit chip-card with the funds.

In this backwater Downport, the Pilot-Astrogator could find no such speakeasy establishment. The stares from the local Proles were answered with his shrugs and friendly tail wagging. The entire colony was drying up. Shops were in closeout sales with Everything Must Go signs. The people were seeking passages and Dead-Hex had learned why.

It was public knowledge leaked to Dead-Hex for free, that if a colonized world of the Zhodani Consulate failed to top 10,000 Humans, then it was a poor choice for settlement. The empty lots, once holding displayed heavy machinery had already been emptied, the products lifted from the mainworld.

The powers that be were removing their Prole workers from the mainworld. This seemed to make no sense to the Pilot-Astrogator. The Universal World Profile had stated that Apla, despite its Exotic atmosphere, was extremely abundant because of its four Gas Giants, two planetoid belts of different types and the Fluid Sea adjacent to the Downport coast. The Zhodani were pulling out of Apla and the local population was already dwindling to a bare-bones four thousand Proles and Intendant managers. The entire colony was in the end-stage of shutting down operations and relocating its people to other, more successful systems. But this did not give Dead-Hex a reason for the Consulate’s population policy.

There were barely any services at the Downport. Dead-Hex failed to find a groundcar across the gypsum flats to where the Gatherer stood on its landing peds. He was forced to walk. By the light of the airlock door lights, he encountered the release of the Prole prisoners. He had hoped to miss this. To the male from Duelunogorrzuez, Kakhskha was being merciful. A full ship of passenger funds had been lost due to the Proles’ failed hijacking. And now the Captain was letting them go on a bout of forgiveness. He was also ashamed to think this way because it showed a lighter side of Kakhskha that Dead-Hex only saw in private or times of extreme duress. That thought brought back anger over Arrtha. It made him ask himself what he would do with the Wafer demon if he had been its victim.

The Proles were carrying a body of their own number among them. It was not hard to guess that one of the sleepers had died in Low Berth. It was the first loss Lt. Ardell had suffered since Dead-Hex had signed on with the Gatherer. She had been so very careful and skillful in awakening the Low Berth passengers. The Pilot-Astrogator stopped to listen as Kakhskha addressed the Proles at the business end of the crew laz-pistols.

“We’re releasing you here on Apla with enough oxygen to make it inside and some funds to take you wherever Rimward you were planning. It’s not much. But if you want it, answer me this. Are there any more copies of this Wafer?”

The male Prole, the cowed default spokesman answered, “No, ma’am. Arrtha made sure there was only one of him recorded.”

Dead-Hex could see Kakhskha’s balled fist around the flat black Wafer in her claw. She gripped it tighter. The female from the Ascendancy Pact glared hard at the Zhodani. Then her ire was held in check for the demon she had confiscated.

“Take this credit chip-card,” Kakhkskha ordered, “and pray our paths never cross again.” At that she turned to the arriving Dead-Hex and took the funds from the sale of the longevity drugs and gave it to the Proles. At that, any tie with either the Proles and the drugs was removed from the Gatherer’s ledger. “Go on to the concourse.”

The Proles left. Lt. Ardell watched them leave as the rest of the crew climbed the ramp up to the starboard side airlock. Inside the ship, Kakhskha quietly asked Dead-Hex, “How much did you get?”

“I did well,” answered the street-smart Duelean Vargr. “I landed 147,000Cr for the entire ten tons.”

“And it was all on that card I gave them, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Dead-Hex had not enough time to skim any funds for his back alley deals from the card. It earned him a hug. It was worth it.

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down A Peg pt. 46

216-1105 Apla (Knoellighz 0521) E5A3310-8 FL Lo ZhCs

A window view from my pandemonium opens to the world outside my Wafer. I take a split-second to see the time-stamp on the computer I am slotted to. Dammit. They’ve connected me to a computer, hand-held by the looks of it. The input-output is a camera mounted on a TL-8, Zhodani hand-computer. I can sense an audio line leading out from the device. I can see space with stars and the orange glow of a nearby star. I try the usual question via the connection, “What is the date?”

The camera pans as the person holding the hand-computer comes into view. Through the window into my pandemonium I can see Kakhskha looking at the camera, at me. She’s activated my Wafer, in space and on a hand-computer. She is suited up in the bodysuit I wore when I was her. She is standing on the outer hull of the Gatherer. What is she up to? Behind her is the strange Canopy opened, each panel capturing whatever fuel this ship uses in its Collector Drive.

“Arrtha,” the beige female says to me with a voice over the audio line, apparently to a microphone. I can’t hear her otherwise. “Why don’t you have an avatar on the screen?”

“I don’t remember what I look like, Kakhskha,” I admit. It was another flaw in the recording that I don’t remember my apprearance. I only know that I was a male, Vargr Corsair, now long dead by the time-stamp in the corner of the window I can see framing the beige female. She looks irksome. I pan the camera to a wider view quickly so I can get a better appraisal of my situation. I won’t last long in a computer. I degrade faster if I’m not jacked into a Vargr host. Beside Capt. Kakhskha are Lt. Ardell and Lt. Anghal, the three female crew aboard the ship I was to hijack.

“No matter,” my former host declares. “I wanted to speak to the personality who I take partial responsibility for slotting. I only wanted to be fluent in the Zhodani language. Instead, I was possessed and used, by a hijacker pirate.”

“Kakshkha please,” I get nervous in trying to talk. There is a fierce glare in her brown eyes. I think I’m in trouble. “I had no choice as to who I was to hijack. I’m just the Wafer. Don’t hate me for what I am.”

“You are a demon, like Dead-Hex says. You threatened me, threatened my crew, used my body against my consent and tried to take over my ship.”

“I don’t recall actually harming anyone, Kakhskha.”

The device’s camera pans until an orange solar body comes into view. It is huge and I think it’s a Red Dwarf. I’m not up on my astronomy.

Her voice is angrier though I can’t see her face with the camera turned toward the Dwarf star. “Maybe not physically, Arrtha,” says Kakhskha over the connection, “but I will carry the memory of you for the rest of my life. My crew has to remember that your behavior in my body was because I was trapped behind you, unable to scream for aid, unable to so much as move a muscle. I suffered, Arrtha. I have nightmares in which I pull the trigger of my weapon on Dead-Hex or the ladies or Zannun.”

I get nervous and try to placate her though it’s clear she has a threat of something on her side, “D-do you want an apology? This is what I am, a Hijacker, Kakhskha. I didn’t ask to be put in you. What-…what are you going to do?”

The three females come into view as Kakhskha pans the camera back around to her and the other two. She says to me, “Like Dead-Hex said, Arrtha. You’re a bad, bad demon. You can’t even apologize to us because you think it’s your nature to do what you do. Sad. Is there anything left of the original in your Wafer, demon?”

“Hey now,” I say trying to backpedal, “You put me in you. I did what I was supposed to do. I wasn’t going to harm-“

“Oh but you did, Arrtha,” growls Kakhskha. “You did harm me. You harmed us. You won’t be forgotten easily. But because you are a bad, bad demon we brought you out here say goodbye.”

“Whatever you are planning to do, Kakhskha, I’m not going to be able to feel it or suffer from it. So, can we talk about this?”

Kakhskha looks to her fellow, suited-up females. With nods from Lt. Ardell and Lt. Anghal, she says to me with finality in her voice. “Arrtha?”

“Y-yes?” I ask.

“The computer you are jacked into has a battery that will last your entire, coming trip. Remember us on your way down. You’re fired, Arrtha.”

With that, the computer is thrown from Kakhskha’s gauntleted claw and into the emptiness of space, tumbling over and over and for the next few days; I have only time to come to some form of peace as I get closer to the Red Dwarf. In that time I scream, try to find some function in the computer to stop my descent into the hell ahead of me…and fail. I begin to fear.

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down A Peg pt. 47

Dead-Hex conferred his findings over the slow and deliberate withdrawal of the population on Apla. Over the course of the jump from Apla to Zhiblchins (Knoellighz 0321), the Pilot-Astrogator sat in the Galley and occasionally peeked at Kakhskha who was listening to the presentation while simultaneously cooking First Meal. He related the strange and often illogical policy of the Zhodani Consulate to forego a solar system that had failed to attain a minimum population. With the charts he had purchased displayed on his Portable Console, Dead-Hex outlined the target world that Matron Sanghthaglla Thazdthoth had tasked the Gatherer crew.

“When we look at the Universal World Profile of Zhiblchins,” the Duelean Vargr continued, “We can see, like Apla, the mainworld Zhiblchins revolves in Orbit zero along with three Gas Giants and six other planets. Note the lack of a planetoid belt where as Apla had two belts. Those revolve about yet another M5 V Red Dwarf primary. The Habitable Zone is right up next to the Dwarf and that is where we most often find mainworlds of these slow-burn stars.”

Lt. Ardell was involuntarily patting her foot, her claws clicking the deck plates. This was boring news to the Medic, Marine and Counsellor of the Gatherer. However, her spirits to remain attentive to the presentation seemed to lift in Dead-Hex’ eyes when dinner arrived from the Galley. Zannun was the most attentive as he was a Scholar. Taking his Collector Drive anywhere new was a chance to gather performance data for his design. Chief Engineer Anghal listened but occasionally sneaked peeks at what was on the menu this evening.

“Go on,” said Capt. Kakhskha who distributed meals to each of the crew. “I’m listening. We need to cover this because Zhiblchins is the Capital of Yeplzhaf Subsector and where the Matron sent us to gather the reasons for the retraction of the Zhodani Consulate border from Riadr and Etlieejibia subsectors.”

“Zhibhlchins may be the Capital,” agreed Dead-Hex, “But what is strange is the question as to why the Zhodani Consulate has retracted the border to put this Capital just outside the new Crystal Wall of Knoellighz. This secret change in the border can’t stay a secret for more than a year. These charts are showing not just unsuccessful attempts at settling worlds. They include worlds that are being marked for reservations for exploitation later. But back to Zhiblchins.”

Dead-Hex continued his presentation between bites and found the crew tilting their heads in trying to understand his speech while eating. “Zhiblchins has an A-rated Downport, but despite the high-technology of the system, its population is too low for an orbital Highport. We’ll have to land on the planet’s surface to get our mission answers for the Matron. That means we will need excuses for jumping into Zhiblchins system, approaching the mainworld, landing and doing business. Thankfully, that’s the Captain’s job.”

“I will have our Professor help us in that,” answered Kakhkha. She then nodded for the Pilot-Astrogator to continue the presentation.

“Zhiblchins has a 3 in the Size digit of the UWP, giving us a rough estimate of a smaller world about 4800 kilometers in diameter. Gravity will be lower and we’ll be able to run faster and jump higher. But don’t step outside without your Filtered, Compressor masks as the atmosphere is very thin and – it says here, tainted – pollution is most often the culprit. We’re looking at a world with only 30% water coverage. At least it’s water and not some other fluid as on Apla. The charts claim the world has a population of about 600,000 Zhodani, high enough to keep the world as an upcoming ‘Client State’, but the reasons are still unknown. The entry for Zhibhlchins says their world is run by a feudal technocracy, so we will see various planetary elements run by those who are best educated on that asset of the mainworld. It’s like an oligarchy except that we’re talking about the Zhodani, psionic Humaniti with a set caste juxtaposed over this feudal technocracy.”

“Wow, Dead-Hex,” interjected Lt. Ardell. “You said ‘juxtaposed’.” The group snickered and giggled but not Kakhskha who merely smiled at the Duelean male.

“Hmmph,” continued Dead-Hex, “Like Apla, Zhiblchins is lower law stringency, probably because the Zhodani Consulate is known for the most law-abiding, efficient tyranny in all of Charted Space. Even though we can carry our laz-pistols under our desert robes, let’s hope we won’t need them. Wearing our mind shield scarves is not a bad idea.”

Prof. Zannun, who had finished his meal first spoke then, “The Zhodani do have a mental law enforcement group, the Tavrchedl’ who maintain law-abiding stability on worlds like this one. Even if we do wear these shemagh given to us by the Captain’s Matron, should they take attention to us, the Tavrchedl’, if I’m not mistaken about Psi-Shielding technology, will hear only a static interference. This will tip them off that we are actively using technology to remain unreadable.”

“The Professor is right,” agreed Kakhskha. “We cannot merely rely on these head-scarves. We have to act in line, stay mercantile or scientific in the case of Zannun and his Collector designs to be advertised. Those who are out and about on Zhiblchins’ Downport will need to appear calm and peaceful.”

“There will be only a lip-service Extra-territoriality at the Downport,” added Dead-Hex. “Only aboard the ship will we find any true security of body and mind. What’s that old saying? ‘Be careful of what you say among others and be mindful of what you think when you’re alone’. Well, pups, that goes double among the Zhodani. We will be lucky to see any Vargr here. If there are, then they’re probably from Anghal’s and my home polity of the Infinity League.”

“You said high-technology, Dead-Hex,” noted Prof. Zannun, who appeared to change the subject before the Ascendancy Pact crew, Kakhskha and Ardell could say anything insulting. “Are they as high as Serue rating?”

“I haven’t heard of any Zhodani world in Knoellighz Sector that rates as high as Serue, Professor,” smiled Dead-Hex. “Serue is on the top of the mountain in technology from my travels. Now on to aryu.”

“Ar-what?” asked Lt. Adell.

“Resource Units, Lieutenant,” corrected Dead-Hex. “Or R.U. for short. The term gets shortened even further by us Merchants to aryu, the overall production capability of the entire system in question. Zhiblchins puts out 600 Resource Units, aryu, per year. This much less than Serue, or Duelunogorrzuez or even Roethoeegaeaegz. The figure is dependent on population, the system’s raw resources, technology rating and how efficient the labor force is at producing that number.”

“Why is this important to us, Dead-Hex?” asked Anghal the Engineer.

“It might show us why Zhiblchins is Important.”

Kakhskha piped up by explaining, “Importance is the Merchant's way of deciding which trade routes we take. It’s also how a Capital gets chosen, be it a subsector, sector or polity Capital. We need to know these things as it affects commerce, politics and it may be a clue as to why the border was moved further Spinward than the rest of Knoellighz knows. It may be that these UWP stats are showing us that Zhiblchins is the best the Consulate can offer in Yeplzhaf Subsector.”

“Now for the military side of this presentation,” segued Dead-Hex. “Note that in this stellar cluster, the Zhodani are protecting all the really Important worlds just Coreward of us. I’m talking Military and Naval Bases. The Zhodani merge the two into one. See that Iachtiazchtivr, Jdedolrefl, Chtialchtachtiesh and Rdozhinspazh have valuable worlds. A Garden world, a Rich world, two A-Starports, (one with an orbital Highport); all four of these worlds were given very expensive installations. And now that the border is moved back, they can’t just up and tear them down or abandon them. The Vargr from all over would gladly plunder what they could. These worlds are just too expensive to lose. So, they get to join the ‘Client States’.”

No one interrupted Dead-Hex at the mention of the worlds. He had a better command of Zdetl than Anghal and the Pact females did not speak the Zhodani tongue. “So, the Zhodani are going to be a little surprised, as they were with me on Apla, that we’ve somehow managed to penetrate the currently-perceived Crystal Wall of Knoellighz. Let’s not tip our ship has a Collector Drive if we can avoid it. Rather, we can advertise for a design if the Captain and Prof. Zannun need to misdirect the reasons for our presence. Humans are attracted to shiny things, I hear.”

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down A Peg pt. 48

Jump Space to Zhiblchins, Day 2

Kakhskha opened the pantry in the Galley on the second day of jump transit to Zhiblchins and was treated to a shock. She stood there for a full minute taking in what she thought she was seeing. Then her claw fished out her personal comm and keyed a ship announcement, “Medic to the Galley. Medic to the Galley please.” Then she began rummaging through the stores of food. All too soon, she found that everything had spoiled. Checking the refrigeration unit, Kakhskha saw that only the First Meal had failed to spoil. Something was in the pantry or the larger Galley that had caused the stores to go bad. The crew was without food for the remainder of jump except what was left over from last night.

“What’s wrong, boss?” asked Lt. Ardell, but it did took her less time to see what had gripped Kakhskha in disbelief. “What the Ancients happened to the pantry?”

“I dunno,” muttered Kakhskha. “But we don’t have enough food for the remainder of jump. Get the Passengers into our empty Low Berths with our apologies and prepare for rationing and fasting. Break out any survival consumables we might have in the Clinic, Ardell.”

“Did you look at the expiration dates on the meals?”

“It looks like someone was cutting corners back on Serue during our last Maintenance and Life Support resupply.” Kakhskha began double-checking everything in the pantry.

“What’s going on?” asked Dead-Hex who entered the Commons Area and curiously looked in on the two females.

“Except for last night’s leftovers, Dead-Hex,” said the Captain gravely. “We have no food. Our nine Passengers will have to finish their trip asleep. Ardell will see to putting them down until we touch down at Zhiblchins. We are now on minimal consumption, fasting and rationing. The only thing not spoiled is First Meal leftovers and our water supply. This is going to be a rough six days or so. Once we breakout, I'm having Zannun signal distress.”

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down A Peg pt. 48a

Ardell’s stomach grumbled in pain. Her friend and Captain, Kakhskha had warned the Medic not to skimp on herself. But Ardell was the ship’s Medic. Over the course of the past five days in jump, the timber wolf colored female from Nouon had doled out sporkfuls of First Meal leftovers and run intravenous lines to keep up the crew’s electrolytes and other fluids. Though Vargr physiology meant that they could endure fasting for longer than even Humaniti, this jump was rough. She had recommended everyone perform as little physical activity as possible to conserve energy and to drink water often. But despite the survival techniques, she had forgotten to look to herself. And now she had become the one to suffer the worst of starvation’s first signs.

Now, on the sixth day Ardell was desperately hungry and though hydrated, she felt she could gnaw her own arm off. She lay in bed and thanked the Ancients when she felt the first rumblings of the Jump Drive as the ship’s jump transit was coming down to the last hour. She recalled the Captain’s orders when Kakhskha had seen the youngest Vargr aboard weakened. Water kept the body working, but lack of food energy had sapped her strength. Ordered to bed she had admonished the Medic.

“Ardell, hun,” the Nouon female remembered the order, “get to bed. Though I’m rated as a First Aid responder, I’m not up on reviving our Passengers. You are the best physician and valkyrie I’ve seen and if you starve to death, we may as well give up the fight too. I don’t think our Passengers will survive awakening under my care. Go to bed.”

Ardell was angry with herself. How can one take care of a platoon, a crew or Passengers if she could not take care of herself first? If she ever set foot on Serue’s sands again, she was going to bark the Starport Quartermaster until he was a mewling pup for shorting the ship’s supplies. The food had indeed expired and gone bad at an accelerated rate. Only what was kept in the refrigerator had managed to survive. Now nearing jump precipitation, the crew limped about like starving zombies from the holovids horror section. Minutes of the jump rumblings became hours of endured anticipation.

Thankfully, Zhiblchins was a high-tech world and the Zhodani hopefully would have spacecraft who could respond to the Gatherer’s medical distress signal upon breakout. Never again would she allow the Galley to trust the Maintenance and Life Support crews without her supervision. She would not wish this experience on her worst enemies.

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down A Peg pt. 49

Day 7, Jump Space precipitation

Dead-Hex could not fathom how he had lasted this long. Of the five crewmembers of the Gatherer, he had suffered the least. He tried to come up with excuses as to how his body had outlasted the others these past six days without proper meals. Though he had water and was properly hydrated, he could go for a double-slab of steak – who cares where from. With the Captain, Anghal and poor Ardell laid down and the onboard artificial gravity shut off to ease a body’s energy usage, Dead-Hex stood by the Drives in Engineering. He waited until his Portable Controller told him the ship had precipitated from jump.

Prof. Zannun was just as bad off, but because he was from a Desert planet, the black-furred male had been no stranger to conservation behaviors. Dead-Hex had left the Professor on the Bridge to signal medical distress the moment of breakout. The Pilot-Astrogator had come down to Engineering to toggle the Jump Drive to the Maneuver Drive upon arrival. Then he could haul tail fast back to the Bridge and make a hasty vector change for mainworld Zhiblchins as Zannun called an emergency request to local traffic control. He watched his Portable Controller which was synched to the ship’s Sensors. The moment was coming when the jump rumblings would cease as the bubble of roiling hydrogen melted away to normal space.

<<JUMP PRECIPITATION>>

The mottled gray and black male blinked his eyes to make sure of the Sensors reading. Then he shut down the Jump Drive now on cool-down and rerouted power to the Maneuver Drive. Slinging the laptop-sized device, Dead-Hex pulled himself dorsally to the hatch from Engineering and into the axis corridor. Slamming the hatch down after passing though it, he kicked hard from the wall to float forward. Trained in Zero-G maneuvers, the male corrected his path down the corridor with light touches on the walls he came near in his trajectory.

With grasps, light kicks from walls Dead-Hex made the Bridge iris valve. It opened to the voice of Prof. Zannun who as already on Comms calling for aid to the system. For while the Gatherer had arrived in Zhiblchins system, Dead-Hex knew that it was another 32 hours until planetfall. He was going to push the Drives to their limit, such was his hunger. A very hasty commute was in order. The Pilot-Astrogator was beyond hungry and he knew the ladies were in worse states. He silently prayed to the Ancients in the back of his mind that they had taken their sedatives to sleep through the worst of the hunger pangs. Never before had he felt remotely religious until now.

Strapping in to the spacious helm chair, Dead-Hex grabbed up the controls and throttled the ship’s Maneuver Drive to maximum acceleration of three gees.

“To anyone within range of this signal,” called a weakened Prof. Zannun, “this is SJL-3A32 Gatherer, a Vargr Surveyor ship precipitating out of Jump Space at 100 Diameters from Zhibhlchins. We are calling a Medical Distress Alert and request any ship with medical and spare consumables intercept us. Please respond. This is a live Medical Distress Alert….” His call was in Zdetl though for obvious reasons, his Vargr accent was evident in the calling as was his weakened condition.

This was sweet music to the lupine ears of Dead-Hex who was pushing the in-system Drives to their maximum.

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down a Peg pt. 50

Zhiblchins (Knoellighz 0321) A323553-D Ni Po Cp ZhSh/ZhCs
http://wiki.travellerrpg.com/Zhiblchins_(world)

Dead-Hex was close to tears when he overheard Zannun answer a hailing call from a nearby ship. He had to translate the intercepting ship’s character string to Gvegh in his head as he kept the Gatherer pushed to its fastest acceleration toward Zhiblchins. Though proficient in Zdetl as his home polity, the Infinity League had welcomed and held treaty with the Zhodani Consulate, the Pilot-Astrogator still thought in Gvegh. This was especially true since he was frightfully famished.

“2S-2S23 Predliaia,” called Zannun, “I have our position, heading and acceleration from our helmsman ready to transmit.”

Normally the ‘2S’ meant ‘SS’ but that would seem confusing in a string of characters. But Dead-Hex knew that this ship was a Scout Courier ship by the doubled-yet-different characters. The other four characters were merely performance descriptors. The Predliaia was a streamlined, 200 ton hull with slower 2Gs of acceleration and an impressive jump range of three parsecs. If Dead-Hex had to choose, and he was on the con with Kakshkha laid up in her cabin, he preferred the intercept in three hours over the thirty he had still left in the approach to the tiny dot on the TL-15 Visor Sensors. But to do so, he would have to slow the ship to two gees acceleration. Reluctantly but happier, he backed down the Maneuver Drives so the Zhodani Courier could catch up and intercept the Gatherer.

Two grueling hours later, the Courier Predliaia was coasting alongside the larger Gatherer. A transfer pulley line had been magnetized between the two ships as they drifted on minimum acceleration toward Zhibhlchins. At the airlock, Dead-Hex and Prof. Zannun met four Zhodani in Vacc Suits. The swarthy faces behind helmets nodded to the two males. The League Vargr male was thankful and relieved to see Zhodani saviors arrive.

“Permission to step further, Senior Vargr?” asked the lead, a female in the ovoid helmet. She would not pop her suit until permission was given.
“I am currently senior,” said Dead-Hex. “Third Officer Dedhekhsgourz, first mate as our Captain is laid up in her cabin. Thank you for coming. Please come in and welcome.” His and Zannun’s Charisma was much lower than the ladies, but as they were suffering, Dead-Hex nodded a bow to the lead woman. “Call me Dead-Hex for short if you like.”

“Thank you, Third Officer,” answered the woman who then signaled to the others to open their helmets. “I am First Officer Mlantia. We are here to help and trust to your hospitalilty though our Captain is confused as to how a Jump-2 starship made it this far into the Zhodani Consulate.

Dead-Hex looked to the weakened Prof. Zannun. Both were in their Seruean bodysuits but had added their Psi-Shield shemagh to preserve the mission from prying minds. It had been his idea as the suited Humans had begun transferring along the pulley line between ships.

“We’re a Seruean ship, First Officer,” explained Dead-Hex. “How we got this far past the Crystal Wall of Knoellighz is a Merchant’s prerogative and trade secret. I am a citizen of the Infinity League if it will help.”

“That term is a Vargr one, sir,” Mlantia declared. “We Zhodani do not see the Consulate border as a ‘Wall’ and we name this Sector by the Zdetl name of Tlabrieish. Can you show us to those who are suffering? Where is your Medic?”

“She’s one of those laid up, ma’am. This way please.” As the group made way through the ship, Dead-Hex explained that he had turned the ship’s gravity down to freefall as to expend less personal energy. The Zhodani First Officer nodded and concurred.

“You must be from an Asteroid world to think of such a measure,” Mlantia assumed aloud.

“Yes, ma’am,” nodded Dead-Hex. “I’m from Duelunogorrzuez. “It’s ingrained from youth. Walking takes more energy than freefall in microgravity.”