Down A Peg

[The Pakkrat]

Down A Peg pt. 50a

First Officer and Intendant Mlantia followed the two shorter, Vargr males through the 300 ton Surveyor. To her, the larger vessel looked more like a Trader than some science Surveyor. From the Sensors stills and readings, other than Comms the Gatherer was using only passive sensors, obviously of a very high technology. Thus, it did not surprise her when Third Officer Dedhekhsgourz had admitted the ship was from Serue (Tlabrieish 1221). Serue was source to many new schematics and breakthroughs released from their Technology Summit every four years. Mlantia had never been to Serue, but knew that the Zhodani subsector Council was interested in maintaining contact with the Vargr scientists there. Through Izsiqrl, the Vargr were still cautious to have dealings with the Zhodani.

The Captain of this vessel lay in her bunk in microgravity. Mlantia and her three crewmembers had used magnetized boots in their Vacc Suits to follow the hungry males through the ship to the Captain’s cabin. The female had plenty of water and Mlantia saw an emptied intravenous bag of medicinal fluids meant to keep the female’s fluids steady. It was obvious then that the Professor, Zannun was telling the truth in the call for aid about the local crew suffering from a lack of food over their jump. Yet, Dedhekhsgourz would not reveal the answer to Mlantia’s commander’s question. Unless the Gatherer had very little cargo space for self-declared Merchants, used for two jumps of fuel; or the Third Officer was privy some other nature of the Surveyor ship.

Mlantia had crossed with her Proles armed with laser longarms to the Surveyor. At three-hundred tons, even a small ship could pose as a Vargr Corsair and still pay for itself. The scans of the three barbettes in the hardpoints had revealed a shocking dual weaponry of Fusion Guns with Data Casters, Jump Dampers and, oddly enough, a mining laser. This load-out was diverse but still alarmed Capt. Vhzhti enough to order the weaponry carried. The Predliaia was smaller and would have been no match, forced to withdraw and signal an attack, had the Gatherer opened fire. But thankfully, these Vargr were truthful about their situation despite their secrets.

“Kakhskha?” asked the male first officer Dedheksgourz. “Captain, we’ve been aided by the Zhodani. Here’s food. No! Take it in slowly. Suck on the packets as I have turned down the gravity. Careful now. Good.” Mlantia was glad to see that the Vargr were alive. She had always been curious of the lupine Gvegh race, but the Major Race of Vargr were largely painted with the vibrant and sharp-colored brush of Corsair piracy. It was logical to then volunteer to be of some service in the name of Mlantia’s ship and the local Zhodani. To her, this was a re-contact opportunity. Yet, as an Intendant, she had tried once to contact the mind of the larger, weakened male. But instead of thoughts, all she encountered with her telepathy was a static white noise. These Vargr were shielding their minds. Secrets and shielding, yet the males wore no shielding helmets Mlantia had been more familiar with. It seemed that there was still distrust in the morally superior Zhodani, even today. With the Captain of this ship laying vulnerable to mental contact, Mlantia decided on a whim to respect their privacy and did not risk a failure to contact her mind. To try and fail might tip off the males that she was prying. Such was the risk a middling Intendant with mediocre psionic discipline was gifted. Perhaps answers to questions would come verbally from the authorized Captain as thanks for the aid. She needed only patience as the two ships coasted closer to Zhiblchins.

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down A Peg pt. 51

Twenty-four hours into final approach to Zhiblchins, Dead-Hex was coaxed awake. He was asleep at the helm when a gentle claw to his shoulder roused him. Looking up he saw that Kakhskha was back on her feet and likely the rest of the crew. A little embarrassed, he checked the helm. He had fallen asleep just after turnaround. Now the tidally-locked mainworld was much larger on the Visor. Dead-Hex had eaten, thanked the Zhodani who now were just behind the Gatherer in their four o’clock position and then he had fallen out with an alarm set to wake him for reentry. But now Kakhskha was here.

“Did you sleep, Dead-Hex?” Kakhskha asked gently as the two were alone on the Bridge.

“I got a little, yeah,” the Pilot-Astrogator answered.

“That’s a Twilight Zone world, isn’t it?” the Captain said with curiosity.

“According to the subsector charts I bought,” explained Dead-Hex. “There is a habitable, green band on the surface between the burned lands and the frozen lands. The approach is similar to the one on Roethoeegaeaegz. The Zhodani have a Downport set inside a long chasm and in the foggy clouds. It’s in the chasm shadow, shielded from their Red Dwarf star. The atmosphere is very thin, so there is some reentry whereas your homeworld is a vacuum.

“But are you good to fly it or shall I?” Kakhskha asked more directly.

“We’ve already signaled and we have a wingman escort,” detailed Dead-Hex, “so yes, ma’am. I can put her where they tell us.”

Kakhskha leaned over and took the Sensors board back from the helmsman. “Good. I’ll be your eyes then.” At that, she licked him for the second time. “Thank you, Dead-Hex.” Then she straightened up and took up position behind the spacious and coveted helm seat to try more Sensor options.

One by one, the crew came back to life now that they had something to fill their bellies. Dead-Hex handed over the Comms headset when the larger male, Prof. Zannun entered. Lt. Anghal entered an hour later and sat down at Engineering. Five days without food had made them all ragged and threadbare. It was not until just before the Gatherer’s reentry that Lt. Ardell made an appearance, a Marine show of bravado as if nothing had happened. Dead-Hex knew better by Zannun’s report. The young valkyrie had suffered the worst in that she had the most active metabolism for a grunt in military.

Ahead in the descent trajectory was the long green band of life that separated a crispy, baked death from a frozen and icy death. Zhiblchins populace of 600,000 Zhodani on this Capital of Yeplzhaf lived on a narrow band and in the lowest altitudes below the main surface of the planet. There, Dead-Hex guessed that the thin atmosphere might thicken and be easier if not preclude the need for condenser respirators. He took up the helm controls again for the final approach.

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down A Peg pt. 52

Zhiblchins (Tlabrieish 0321) A323553-D Ni Po Cp Tz ZhSh/ZhCs

The reentry and descent was textbook procedure to Dead-Hex. The interesting part was the perpetual fog that filled the long chasm below the mean surface of Zhiblchins. Though on the green belt of a Twilight Zone world, the shadowy depths were concealing the Downport located near the bottom of the chasm formation and burrowed into the sides. There Dead-Hex would deposit the Gatherer. Over the forward viewport was overlaid various image enhancements.

“I’m giving you telescopic mags from the Scope and Visor,” declared Kakhskha. “With that, you’ll see the visual cleaned up a bit. Over that I’ve gone active with Radar and EMS so we can see towers, smallcraft and ships as their transponders give away their location. When we are in range, the Densitometer will show us the canyon walls, structures and shapes of everything. You good with that, Dead-Hex?”

“Yes, ma’am,” answered Dead-Hex.

Beside the helm, at the unused seat before the Astrogation station sat Prof. Zannun who was talking to the local traffic control that Dead-Hex always simply named the Tower. Ahead as the Gatherer sank through some wispy cirrus clouds, likely the only clouds present in the green belt. Mountain peaks jutted up from the flattened and blasted surface to starboard and were answered by frozen and icy mountains to port. Beyond the mountain ranges, Dead-Hex could see vast deserts baked by the planet’s proximity to the ruddy-orange glow of the Red Dwarf the charts had named “Coherence” in Zdetl. To the portside horizon, the Pilot-Astrogator beheld icy fields all the way to the horizon. Such was the corridor he was to maneuver between to make the chasm.

The chasm itself was set in a valley that reached to the mean surface of the planet. However, the delving chasm reached even deeper like an old wound in the crust. Nimbus clouds rained to fore and aft of the descending Surveyor ship. The water cycle supposedly ran from the mountains and then through tributary cracks in the chasm and far below to a main river that eventually spilled into the icy seas to the west. To the east, long shadows perpetually reached across the land to the west and over the chasm.

As the Gatherer reached the mountains’ heights the clouds of a thin atmosphere tried to buffet the ship. It was no worse than a small Gas Giant skimming operation. Dead-Hex could not see past the nose of the forward viewport and had to rely on instrumentation and the transmitted flight path corridor from the Tower. But thanks to the Sensors overlays, the mottled gray and black male aligned the trajectory with the length of the chasm. Dim glows ahead spoke of metropolitan city at the bottom of the gap and adjacent to the thin river of freshwater runoff. Everything was shadowed now.

As the ship dipped down into the chasm, Dead-Hex heard the order from the Captain, “Slow to 1.1 Gs, helm. Let’s look competent to the Zhodani. Remember that the Prediaia is right behind us in order to land. Let’s not break a polite speed limit here, Dead-Hex.”

“Yes, Captain,” acknowledged the Pilot-Astrogator though he did not turn to look at Kakhskha. Though he had plenty of Nap-Of-Planet experience, Zhiblchins was still a new world to him.

“Radar and Densitometer is picking up a storm in progress over the Downport,” announced the Captain. “There may be lightning and thunder, so buckle up everyone.” Dead-Hex flattened his ears. He had forgotten to wear his ThunderVest though he glanced at the Chief Engineer Anghal who wore hers all the time now. He noticed that she recovered more often without help when her mind locked up. The League male would have to pilot the ship without his on.

It was a boon that aerospace and interstellar traffic was a one-way avenue in the chasm. All hulls of any size were to arrive via the southern reach of the valley and departures exited to the north. Thus, Dead-Hex had no opposing traffic traveling against his flight. A lightning flash lit up the nimbus clouds and the fog banks below. Then the thunder report caused him to grip the helm tighter in his claws. His ears flattened again as the reverberations were felt through the hull of the Gatherer. He was embarrassed to show his fear of intense weather. Dead-Hex was from a cluster of planetoids in Duelunogorrzuez and weather was still a new experience to him. He could feel Anghal’s eyes on him.

“We’re N-O-P soon,” declared Capt. Kakhskha, “so we can add in the Lifters as we get closer to the city.”

“Acknowledged, Captain,” said Lt. Anghal. The Lifters were last minute, weak gravitics that were very short range in their ability to float a ship off a landing field or pull it to a slow docking position in an orbital station. “Lifters active and Green,” she said.

The glow from the city at the bottom of the chasm differentiated into various lights as the Gatherer fell gently below the clouds above. A long floor of domes, ground tubes and vertical elevator shafts that reached up the side of the chasm presented despite the rain and overcast shadow. A perpetual night swallowed the Surveyor as the Downport came into view upon rounding a cliff face.

Zhiblchins Shadowport evidenced to port and starboard, on the east and west faces of the crevice spanning more than two thousand meters above the city. The mountains on the planetary surface further stabbed at the stars as they became visible in the weakening rainstorm. The port consisted of hangars carved directly into the rock and were accented by half torus concourses that were supported to hang overlooking the Capital city just below. Each had an impressive view in the half-light of the chasm. Ships glided into the hangars from the south and pulled out of them to turn northwards. Dead-Hex’s view on the instruments showed his corridor to a hangar that was highest of the carved entries. Slowing, he turned the ship to a landing threshold and eased down the hull and lowered the landing gears.

Inside the hangar were ships, ground vehicles and crews servicing occupied landing pads. Zannun beside Dead-Hex relayed instructions from the headset he was monitoring, “Approaching landing A-8. Pad cleared. Watch the ground signaler as we touch down.”

“Gotcha,” nodded Dead-Hex who could now see clearly now that the ship was in the hangar from the rain.

Outside the Gatherer, the signaler held bright lights with both normal light and lasers to guide the ship’s descent. With the gears down upon entry of the hangar, the hydraulics caught as the landing peds touched down. The guide crossed his hand-helds and waited for a similar claw signal from the helm through the viewport. Dead-Hex gave the sign as the ship settled to level on its legs.

“Down and secure, Captain,” declared the male Vargr Dead-Hex.

“Drives to standby,” commanded Capt. Kakhskha, “and begin arrival procedures. Engineering, begin power transfer toggle to umbilicals. Medic, go wake our High Passengers in Low Berths please. All the apologies. Be gentle with them, Ardell.”

“On it, boss.”

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down A Peg pt. 52a

The crew stood before the outer airlock door. Each was dressed in their Seruean bodysuits, desert robes, wore their Psi-Shield shemagh and were augmented by the respirator condensers that made breathing on Zhiblchins possible. Outside, thunder from the storm still rolled. Kakhskha smiled slightly to see that Dead-Hex had ran to his cabin to strap his ThunderVest on and underneath his armored suit. Laz-pistols were checked and concealed under the robes. Dead-Hex arrived last to the lock in his black while Zannun stood by in his deep, metallic blue. Ardell was going to try the eyes of the Zhodani with the tie-dye spirals of her desert robe. The Marine was always bucking any situation other than her fellow valkyries with a challenge of some kind. Both Kakhskha and Lt. Anghal wore simpler, geometric patterns on their desert robes.

“Play nice, stay observant, keep to your partners and let’s do business like Vargr Merchants,” ordered Kakhkha. “Dead-Hex, you’re with me. Prof. Zannun has the two Lieutenants. This gives us variety of polities and command of the language. Watch and remember. Got me?”

“Yes ma’am,” answered the crew.

The Gatherer opened its outer airlock door to a crowd of Zhodani ground crews, local officials, and a plethora of state media press covering the Surveyor’s arrival. Kakhskha knew she was in for a long stream of interviews and speaking with the local Downport Warren, Security and planetary Administrators as to the business of the very first Vargr starship to arrive this deep into Yeplzhaf subsector on its very Capital world. There was no media rush to crowd the disembarking Vargr with Kakhskha in the lead. Nervous, she held claws with Dead-Hex who could not keep from wagging his tail. The Starport Warden approached first followed up by what looked like a Security Chief.

There were concealed expressions of disappointment hidden behind cordial greetings in this new contact encounter. Kakshkha felt she could assume it was because many of the Zhodani were already trying to read their minds. She envisioned that telepathy was like a second sense to the Humaniti and to live without such was likened to being deaf or lack Vargr olfactory senses. They were meeting the shielding of the Vargr minds and hiding their body language that the Vargr used daily with each other. Dead-Hex squeezed her claw to confirm it, but he nodded to her with encouragement. Being an citizen of the Infinity League, he had far more contact with Nobles and Intendants than Kakhskha who originated from the Ascendancy Pact. But their story was to be one of a registered Seruean vessel come through the Crystal Wall of Knoellighz to do first-contact business. Freight was already being unloaded and the Passengers had already been released after revival.

“Don’t smile so big, Kakhskha,” whispered Dead-Hex in the beige female’s right ear. “It shows your teeth and that might make them think you bite.”

“I don’t bite, Dead-Hex…,” Kakhskha replied smiling at him, “…hard.”

Kakhskha fielded the greetings, questions and bureaucracy verbally as cameras from the media caught their every move and gesture. Zhodani journalists spoke commentaries into microphones while facing floating media robots recording the event. Kakhskha could hear statements to the public being transmitted live to various news boards placed intermittently through Zhiblchins Shadowport. Through the greetings and contact exchanges, the Captain of the Gatherer spoke in Gvegh to be translated through her first officer, Dedhekhsgourz. Questions of the ship’s class as a Surveyor in light of the mercantile declaration came next. Kakhskha had to explain the high-tech nature of the Gatherer’s Sensors and initial intention of system survey, prospecting that had over time morphed into a commercial Far Trader. Inwardly, she wished that she had a LinguaSoft Wafer and that she never suffered a demon instead. Then she would not have to rely on Dead-Hex.

Invitations to offices across the Downport and into the city came next as various high profile Zhodani expressed their welcome. But to the sides, she could also hear the frustrated journalists who failed to make past their mental shielding. They were confused by the lack of Psi-Shield Helmets and yet encountering such protections anyway. It tainted the welcome, but Kakhskha reciprocated with congeniality and kept her movements slow, deliberate and lacking aggression. As the novelty died down, the Warden guided the Vargr crew deeper into the concourse to tour and allow the Captain to detach Professor Zannun’s team to conduct business. Her goal was to speak to as many higher-ups as she could find. She still needed answers as to the retraction of the Zhodani border, the Crystal Wall from Riadr and Elieejibia subsectors and the future of Zhiblchins, the Capital soon to be known outside that wall.

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down A Peg pt. 53

Subsector Consul Ifril Adlakle continued boxing up his workspace in the Office of the Subsector Consul. He was soon to take his leave of the position. Property of the office was the computer with its monitor. Displayed were four media networks covering the mildly sensational arrival and new contact with the Vargr Surveyor and Trader. Each of the networks followed the two separate parties of five total Vargr. Commentary with curiosity and supposition over the first Vargr of Tlabrieiesh Sector to come so deep into the Zhodani Consulate was on each network. Questions to the government lit up the comms of the various world, system and subsector offices over their visit to the Capital of Yeplzhaf Subsector, Zhiblchins. Placing more items into folding plastic crates, Ifril continued to half-heartedly listen and watch.

Ifril had been Subsector Consul, elected by the Council of Yeplzhaf for a term of four years. Now that the High Council had the census numbers of Tlabrieish before them, a verdict had returned to Zhiblchins. Shamefully, twenty-three colonies on worlds along the Spinward subsectors had failed to meet minimum populations. It was now a margin call and the citizens of those worlds were to be relocated. Of the twenty-three failed colonies, eleven of those failures were Ifril’s. The most number of low population worlds were in Yeplzhaf. The other subsectors had been more successful, their numbers of worlds being lower was a detail the High Council had glossed over. The orders had come down, a social and logistics nightmare was about to happen. With those orders had come the declaration from that same High Council that the Zhodani Consulate’s border in Tlabrieish was to be moved back in Yeplzhaf and removed entirely from Etlieejibia and Riadr Subsectors. So many loyal Zhodani citizens, Proles, Intendants and Nobles were now without the full backing and might of the Consulate. Those that did not relocate to within the borders were to be considered disposable and on their own cognizance.

To make matters worse, there was the buildup of military might in Ziafrplians Sector. Fleets were being cherry-picked from every available unit not adjacent to an Imperium border. Many of Yeplzhaf’s fleets were taxed in this way as reassignment orders, to mobilize toward Ziafrplians had arrived with the populations verdict. As the border was now retracted, so too was the perceived need to defend the worlds formerly of the Consulate denied. The fleet Admirals were ordered to take what was theirs and fall back behind the new border. The military sector was the first told of the news. Then came the governments. This was to ensure cooperation of relocation by the worlds to now be considered Client States if their mainworlds could not be abandoned in the next two years. Two years. Ifril could see what was coming. War with the Third Imperium was on the horizon alongside the need to move staggering numbers of Zhodani citizens. Questions of where to relocate inside or outside the new Consulate border were a daily staple now. How to contract various lines, freight companies, and break the news to the corporate sector gently enough not to anger the economy was the question of priority each day.

Sixty worlds in total were about to be pushed outside the Zhodani Consulate. Twenty-three of those worlds were the failed colonies. Eleven shames were upon his head as the Subsector Consul of Yeplzhaf. And to decorate the humble pie was the fact that Ifril’s homeworld, Zhiblchins, was one of those to be left outside the border. To his shock in reading the High Council’s verdict and orders, Zhiblchins was to surrender its Capital status, to be moved to Chiadrshedepr (Tlabrieish 0228) where the next Subsector Consul would take up Office and residence. Zhiblchins was to be reduced to the status of a border Client State with only the consolation of becoming an interface world to the Vargr polities and worlds. In the Zhiblchins stellar cluster were five Zhodani Bases that would be able to defend the new Client States. That is, if the now forsaken worlds could band together and staff them with assets. Taxes would be shifted from Consulate to themselves. All the Resource Units of those lost sixty worlds were now theirs to do with as they could. Would they band together, was yet another question on Ifril’s mind.

The Tavrchedl’ was already undermanned and now daunted with the task of keeping order among the Proles to get the various tasks and movements started. Underway at last, Ifril Adlakle’s term was almost ended. The Yeplzhaf Council of Worlds would have to elect his replacement. This logistics nightmare would become some other worthy Noble’s task. Ifril, after two terms as an Admin Functionary in the Office of the Subsector Consul was nearly up.

Just as Ifril was nearly ready to enjoy his end of term send-off dinner party held by his staff, an Intendant stepped to the opened Office door and waited to be recognized. Pausing his packing, the Noble stood straight and welcomed his staff member inside. The visiting Vargr had accepted only his Office’s invitation.

“I hardly think this Office is in any shape to receive the visitors, Jdlnat,” Ifril complained gently to his subordinate.

“Still, Consul, we did invite them so as to not stand out against the other invitations of Zhiblchins Admin, System Admin, Starport Warden and the emptying Consulate embassy.”

“Put them on the invite list to my send-off party,” suggested Ifril. “Let’s see if these Surveyor-Traders, so they claim, can behave in polite society. Serueans or not, I suspect they are not here merely on some Medical Emergency distress call.”

“No one in the Tozjabr has been able to read their minds, Consul,” noted Jdlnat the Intendant. “These Vargr seem to be touring everywhere and seeking business.”

“That is because the local Tozjabr and the bloody Tavrchedl’ are so used to relying on their psionics that they haven’t had to investigate persons of interest in the mundane way. They have got to step up their game when it comes to shielded minds. But let them come anyway. I too am curious to hear what they have to say and why they have accepted only our invitation. I want to see how they clean up.”

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down A Peg pt. 54

225-11105 Zhiblchins (Tlabrieish 0321) A323553-D Ni Po Cp Tz ZhSh/ZhCs

In case she lost or had her shielding head-scarf taken from her, Kakhskha did not look at the folded sheaves of hardcopy paper reports each of the crew were delivering to her cabin. If her mind was somehow read by the the Zhodani, the Captain would know very little to incriminate her for observing legally the events around the Starport. Yet, when put together, the reports could incriminate her of spying. Thus they stood in a small stack on her bunk in the cabin. She could only guess at what each of the crew had found these past two days as they moved about Zhiblchins Shadowport. Tomorrow the Gatherer was lifting, regardless of what was on those reports collected by Dead-Hex, Zannun, Ardell and Anghal. Matron Sangthaghlla would just have to be satisfied with what little a Merchant crew could glean from the Zhodani. Nevertheless, curiosity did bite a little. So Kakhskha pulled up her covering Psi-Shield shemagh and stepped from the cabin.

“Ah, welcome, Captain of the Gatherer,” greeted the Intendant dressed in eveningwear and in Gvegh language. Kakhkskha could tell by the lack of the tall turban wrap that was generally worn by the few Nobles she had seen the past two days in Zhiblchins Shadowport and the connected Startown.
Tonight, as all times were in such shadow on the Tidal Zone mainworld, the beige Vargr female had brought with her Professor Zannun as her partner. She had put Dead-Hex on tasks involving taking Lt. Anghal to the shipyard to both oversee their ship’s maintenance as well as watch the yards for military ships. Additionally, Kakhskha had given Dead-Hex a further task, but with the Intendant gesturing for her and Zannun to enter, she could not give the Third Officer another thought. She had to focus here in this social venue to honor the Subsector Consul, one Noble Ifril Adlakle.

“Thank you…?” she asked as she stepped to the sealing door held open by the Intendant.

“Jdlnat, Captain,” nodded the man with a smile. His body language told Kakhskha that he was genuine in giving his name. “Call me Jdlnat or Intendant, madam Captain.”

“Since this is a social then,” requested Kakhskha, “call me Kakhskha or Third Officer which is my actual rank as a Merchant. Here is our invitation.” She held out the hardcopy printout of the invitation for her and a second.

“Ah yes, madam,” confirmed Jdlnat, “I sent your invitation out myself. There is no need for me to confirm it. Who is with you, madam?”

Kakhskha gestured to the tall, black-furred Seruean, “This is Distinguished Professor Zannun, Intendant. My first mate could not make it tonight.” Kakhskha was lying but felt she could safely do so since she and Zannun still wore their Psi-Shield shemagh on their heads. They had already spent the day laundering their desert robes in preparation for the recognition party in honor of the Subsector Consul. Kakhskha was in her geometric, stained glass style robe while Zannun followed behind her in his metallic blue robe.

“Welcome then Distinguished Professor of, if you don’t mind me asking?” inquired Jdlnat as he shut the sealed door to the gathering hall. The door sealed the pressured foyer from the very thin atmosphere of Zhiblchins. Once an indicator light shone a healthy blue, everyone removed their condensing respirators to breathe the inside air already condensed by in-house conditioners.

“Photonics Design and Application,” answered Prof. Zannun after he stole a quick glance at Kakhskha. The two had rehearsed their answers before leaving the docked Surveyor. “I am one of three Drive Technicians as well as the Comms officer on the Gatherer.”

“Come in then and meet the staff,” offered the Intendant. “We will be joined by Consul Adlakle in minutes.”

Kakhskha had purposefully left her shemagh open just enough to show her muzzle, eyes and face, but covered her cranium to keep the shielding quality active. She was inwardly happy that the pair of Vargr were not asked to remove their headwear upon entering.

The celebration party was mixed with mingling talk of attainments, the term events and promotions, rewards and those who were retiring from the office and mustering out to a personal life. On the other end of the spectrum, Kakhskha overheard the news of the Consul’s Office failures to deal with a policy to relocate populations of colony worlds in Yeplzhaf Subsector. This intrigued the female from the Ascendancy Pact. The airs were light as Zhodani Proles and Indendants laughed and recalled their memories over the past term. Kakhskha mingled and talked lightly with those who were curious to clasp Human hand to Vargr claw in what might be their only opportunity to meet the nearby Major Race. The female allowed the gesture of greeting and wagged her tail though she was putting on airs of grace for the curious Zhodani.

It was not difficult to guess who Consul Ifril Adlakle was since all eyes were on the Noble dressed in flowing silks, draped in a flowing cape and crowned with the signature turban wrap decorated with the three-ringed symbol of the Zhodani Consulate. People stood and held out their hands for the Consul to shake. Congratulations and words of friendly camaraderie were exchanged. Adlakle’s long, straight black hair was shorter than female Zhodani but shone in the light of the gathering hall. His colors were maroon and black though his turban was white. Ifril's eyes were a dark chocolate and almost indistinguishable from his pupils. He had a long goatee beard that Kakhskha thought was silly since the rest of his face was purposely shaved. Why not shave the entire face of hair if a Human was to remove facial hair at all? But soon enough, Kakhskha’s thoughts were pushed aside so she could be introduced to the Consul by Jdlnat the Intendant.

Stepping before the shorter pair of Vargr in robes, the smiling Ifril Adlakle held out his hand. His handshake was soft and warm as he said, “Welcome friend Vargr and thank you for accepting my Office’s invitation to my end-of-term dinner party send-off.”

“Thank you for inviting stranger Merchants you have never met, Consul,” answered Kakhskha who held the man’s hand as if she could learn all about him through it. Was it something in her that let her claw tips brush his palm as she slid her extremity from his hand? What could she impart with such a reminder that Vargr had potentially sharp edges.

“You look quite Vargr in that pattern, Captain Kakhskha,” remarked Ifril. “Seruean if I am correct. They have some of the most amazing innovation in the seemingly every day wear. Enjoy the celebration, ma’am. I am sure we will talk toward the evening’s maturity.”

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down A Peg pt. 54a

Dead-Hex could have killed for such an extravagant dinner and the wine from the nearby Agricultural world of Qrensheiaf was fruity yet potent, almost a cognac. Kakhskha’s tail wagged in contentment. It was by far the best meal of this mission she’d had. Prof. Zannun and she were in agreement as the two followed Consul Adlakle into a private room for the promised audience. She had already spoken repeatedly of the rehearsed story of the Gatherer’s arrival on Zhiblchins, most of it the truth so as to soothe her body’s paralanguage.

Entering the new room with Zannun and Consul Adlakle, the Surveyor’s Captain was welcomed by his new greeting, “Now my Vargr guests. What can an exiting Subsector Consul do for such amazing Merchants? I must say first that the find of the Corsair and its pursuer ship is an intriguing story, one that I am sure the fleet will want to rediscover.” But Kakhskha saw Ifril’s Human hands enter a series of gestures, signs. He knew Merchant S-lang or slang.

The walls have ears, friends.

Kakhskha nodded and answered, “While we depart tomorrow, Consul, we appreciate this valuable time at your going-away party and would take as little of your time from co-workers and friends as possible.” Understood. Trade in information is up for sale to ease your way.

Ifril smiled, his facial hair tweaking to a side of his face. Humans had far more facial muscles and their body language was centered on their face, Kakhskha found. “Please continue, Captain.”

“Distinguished Professor Zannun has an offer that may help the economy of A-Starports across Knoe-, excuse me, Tlabrieish Sector, sir.” But quietly, Kakhskha’s claws flashed. I know of the minded ones’ movements Rimward. Why?

Ifril turned to regard the taller Prof. Zannun and said, “I am delighted to give ear to any opportunity for my Office to seek business innovations, especially those coming from esteemed Serue. Was it not last year that their famous Technology Summit was held?” But in Kakhska’s direction, he signed People move where there is money and business.

“Yes well,” interrupted Zannun who spoke between the gestures, “as you heard of our story, the Gatherer is equipped with an Improved Stage Collector Drive. I project futures within ten years that you will see more traffic that features this cutting-edge technology in alternative fuels for Jump Drives. I offer a means for A-rated, TL-14 and higher worlds to do what the Gatherer does to capture such exotic particles near their solar primary and store such a full charge in capacitors that can later be sold to visiting starships with a Collector Drive. It would revolutionize the services such a Starport can offer.”

While Zannun was making his pitch, Kakhskha signed, Sixteen years ago there were more minded ones to Coreward, Human and Vargr. How I know is a trade secret learned by a young female pup. Today there are less minded ones to Coreward. There are movements. I want to know.

“An alternative fuel you say? Exotic particles? New services at an A-Starport, say at Aiak (Tlabrieish 0423) could enhance their economy and boost the underdeveloped population. If there are enough of such ships in need of re-charging, as you say, then a fee could be charged and ships under time constraints need not spend time ‘skimming’ is the word you Vargr say, I believe.” The turban-topped head turned to Kakhskha and the Consul signed, What you ask is dangerous knowledge and known only in certain circles. Even I do not know all. What do you offer?

Professor Zannun continued his proposed design for an array of Canopy stations set in Orbit 0 of a world’s solar system to collect the exotic particles and store the high-energy charges in transportable capacitors to be fed to a Collector Drive. He displayed schematics of his design as the Consul and the Captain flashed gestures at each other. To keep up the momentum and buy time for the secret exchange, he detailed some of his Early stage designs for Canopy rigging and the capacitors each would need. He showed how many in-system commuter shuttles could ferry the fully charged capacitors could then be delivered to awaiting ships for purchase at an orbital Highport or made available planetside. When exhausted of those, the Scholar moved on to Standard stage designs but then halted there as he knew that only Serue could field the Improved stage Canopy and Collector capacitors.

I offer peace. Worlds are being abandoned by Coreward Humans in Riadr, Etlieejibia and here. It is an opportunity for claiming assets. The beige female had been forced to digit-spell the subsector names. Kakhskha knew her Merchant S-lang had vocabulary limits and so kept her signs as recognizable and connotations clear as possible. You need time to move the Humans, time you do not have, so say your people outside.

Are the Vargr fully aware of this? Asked Ifril with his hands as he glanced and complimented the next pane design on the male Vargr’s laptop computer screen.

Not everybody, but the movements are visible to Merchants with an eye to commerce. I offer to hold off such business opportunity, to keep the industry silent as well as predators safely off-market as Humans move Rimward.

Irfril’s eyes narrowed. Is this a threat, Vargr? Just as quickly, his face calmed and he asked to see the Improved stage designs anyway, out of curiosity.

No, sir. It is a desire to maintain life and slow the changes. I offer slow change instead of fast change. Kakhskha was offering the same payment that she had been given from Matron Sangthaghlla Thazdhoth, information for holding off war. Only in this case, it was the threat of an entire Sector of Vargr descending upon Riadr, Etlieejibia and parts of Yeplzhaf Subsectors if the news of the border retraction were fully leaked across Tlabrieish.

Ifril Adlakle sidestepped, “Let me think. This is new and very high-tech, Distinguished Professor.” He towered a full foot above Kakhskha and signed, You know of the border retraction, Captain Vargr. You know of the failed colonies now too. Not all Humans will move Rimward so easily. How many do you project can be saved if your silence is paid?

This is not blackmail, Human. This is preservation of life. War is dirty credits. I know this too. I want the Zhodani to move safely too, like you. But a world-grab is evident.

Ifril rubbed his shiny black goateed beard and continued signing with his off-hand. What do you want in trade?

Kakhskha chose her next signs carefully as she pointed her muzzle’s nose directly at Ifril Adlakle. She recalled Lt. Ardell’s revelation about the Prole refugees seeking to migrate Rimward. What is it the minded ones fear to Coreward that moves them Rimward? Truly! The last word was a powerful sign, a clap of her claws together. It could have been done with a single claw on her thigh. But when given with both claws, it came as an exclamation.

“Some numbers and projected costs to build these Canopies would be in order, Professor Zannun,” noted Ifril aloud, “to better evaluate construction versus payout of course.”

“I have had help from the Captain here to show cost to build ratios to unit charge prices to suggest. A ship with a Collector Drive could cut almost a week of travel off in-system commute, collection and out-system exit to jump with the institution of this new service.” Zannun was running out of subject-matter. He looked at Kakhskha with worry in his light blue eyes.

Consul Ifril Adlakle swirled his cape as he picked up a nearby writing utensil and scribbled a single word in Zdetl on a pad of paper. Tearing it cleanly from the pad, he offered it to the Professor, but then began signing and speaking at the same time. “This would take years to implement, sir. My Office is due to stand down and be delivered to Chiadrshedepr (Tlabrieish 0228) for the next Consul. At that time, I can only speak as a businessman and not Yeplzhaf Consul. The timing is off. I do wish your amazing starship had come earlier.” To the female Vargr he signed, I do not know what this is, but I have heard it used in hushed voices of the higher-ranked learned. If you do want further business risk for more reward, Vargr, ask the Tavrchedl’. Like Kakhskha, the Zhodani man had to fingerspell the last word.

Handing the slip of paper to the male Vargr, he concluded, “It is a risky venture, Professor. While Tlabrieish Sector has quite a few A-Starports, only two or perhaps three meet the minimum Technology Levels needed to implement those schematics. I should like to send a team of Scholars to your world’s next Technology Summit to continue this discussion after I leave Office if that is amenable to you, sir?”

“As you wish Consul,” capitulated the Seruean. “I must admit there would be a few rough edges to polish out, logistics of this service and taxation, bureaucracy and permits among your people.” The black-furred male received the slip of paper, read it and then flashed a strange glance at Kakhskha.

The word was written in Zdetl, a language she could not read without help from a LinguaSoft Wafer and Kakhska had learned how that attempt had gone. Zannun could not sign it. She nodded to Zannun and bowed to the Consul, “Consul Ifril Adlakle, thank you for hearing us both as Consul and as a potentate of economic growth. We regret we must retire for the evening to our ship. Thank you for the invitation and our best wishes to your staff and to your futures.” In her head, Kakhskha was still translating the fingerspelling to the word Tavrchedl’. When it dawned on her, she tugged insistently upon her fellow Vargr to follow her.

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down a Peg pt. 55

“What in Ancients does Cold Idea Over There mean?” asked Dead-Hex in Gvegh. He and Kakhskha were riding in a grav car taxi from Zhiblchins Shadowport into the local Startown. Domes slid by under the flyer slowly as the two rode in the back of the cab.

“Zannun said it differently when we returned from the party,” whispered the Captain beside Dead-Hex. “He said ‘Fienzhatshtiavl’ meant ‘Yonder Chilling Thought’. You’re mis-translating something meant like an analogy, I think. The Professor had no idea what it meant. It’s clearly significant though. Who writes this kind of thing down given the conversation I had in slang?"

“Kakshkha,” warned Dead-Hex, “this though is the Tavrchedl’, the Thought Police. They arrest their own people for merely being unhappy, disgruntled or maladjusted. I’ve heard the stories back home in the Infinity League. They can mess with your mind, make you ‘happier’ to comply with whatever attitude adjustment they think you need. Some sort of Path of Morality guides the most efficient tyranny known to Charted Space.”

“An Engineer’s society,” mused Kakshkha. “Lt. Anghal could appreciate it. Less back-talk from the machinery and more compliance, yes?”

“Except that as Vargr, we could be turned on our employer or worse.”

The ride was soon over as the grav car came to a halt before a well-lit government building in the shadow of the grand chasm that protected Zhiblchins’ locals. Dead-Hex swallowed at the Zdetl lettering on the sealed, transparent polymer door-lock. It read Tavrchedl’ in simple Zhodani lettering. Zhodani came and left through the door, but the mottled gray and black male Vargr could not tell who was happy and who was unhappy with their lot in life. To him, the building looked more like some form of counselling or therapy clinic than a law-enforcement bureau office. He felt his right claw coming up to his hidden Wafer just below his chest sternum. The pair of Vargr tightened their Psi-Shield shemagh as the contragravity vehicle came to a halt. As Kakhskha paid the transit fare, Dead-Hex reached under his desert robe and palmed the Rage-5 Wafer from the black pouch in which it rode. Into his right outer pocket, it fell as he re-zipped up his sealed Seruean bodysuit.

A tall female Zhodani woman in all shiny black and topped with a turban which gathered and held her head mane saluted the Vargr couple as they exited the grav taxi, “Greetings and welcome, Captain Kakhskha of the Gatherer. The Tavrchedl’ can help off-worlders as well all citizens.”

“Thank you,” half-whispered Kakhskha. “May we come inside?” She gestured the Merchants salute in return, her right claw palm to her collar bones.

“Absolutely, madam,” gestured and said the woman. “My name is Agent Bevdril Shtachvoro and I am the Noble assigned to visitors from off-world who come to the Tavrchedl’. This is a place of peace, so I must ask at the door that any weapons be checked here please.”

“Agreed,” said Capt. Kakhskha. “Dead-Hex. Your sidearm.”

It was not illegal to carry weapons on Zhiblchins so long as they stayed in their holsters or bandoleers. It was however policy to bar them from government buildings and offices. Dead-Hex guessed correctly that there were detectors just inside the sealed airlock doors. Nodding his muzzle and condenser-respirator, he unclipped his entire holster, checked again the safety and Off setting for his laz-pistol before offering it up. “It has a full charge, is off and the safety is set.” To say so when giving over his weapon seemed polite.

“I am sure, sir,” came Bevdril’s answer. “It will be here when you leave. The news says you are leaving Zhiblchins today, is that correct?”

“Yes, ma’am,” confirmed Kakhskha who also surrendered her laz-pistol as Dead-Hex had. "We have no Passengers but I did have a look at outgoing, speculative cargo."

The Astrogator of the Gatherer felt his stomach sink as the two Vargr stepped into the halls of the Thought Police building. It had not been enough knowledge to be given just one simple word as to why Kakhskha believed that psionic Humans and Vargr were migrating Rimward. Such had to do with what the crew had seen on Roethoeegaeaegz and what Kakhskha remembered as younger adult sixteen years earlier. Dead-Hex recalled the glows from the strange projector upon the domed planetarium ceiling at the exhibit. Each world had glowed in proportion to its population of opened minds, tested and trained. Psions numbers contributed to the intensity of each world’s glow, the brighter ones held more and that meant Zhodani far out-glowed the Vargr Extents immediately to Trailing. However, Kakhskha said that the glows were lessening to Coreward. Psions were either dying out in droves or they were on the move Rimward, toward the edge of the galaxy’s Charted Space. The beige female, after some debate with Dead-Hex and the others of the crew last night, had decided to follow the advice of the Consul, to subtly query the Tavrchedl’. Dead-Hex felt he was voluntarily walking into the den of a monstrous beast of such gentle and sublime subtlety to give him nightmares. Yet, he demanded to go despite Prof. Zannun’s curiosity as a Scholar. And here he was, on his way to a mental wipe if the holovids were anywhere accurate.

After a few turns and extra, sealed doors, the Vargr and the Agent were free to remove their breathing gear. For though the deep chasm was low enough to thicken the atmosphere, it was still thin enough to suffocate a sophont in a matter of minutes into unconsciousness.

“Here is my office and my Prole assistants,” pointed Agent Bevdril. “Come inside and let us talk. Sit and be comfortable. What can I help you with today?”

Two Proles dressed in uniforms looked half secretary and half law-enforcers. Their crisp and smiling demeanors worried Dead-Hex. Bevdril’s office was spacious and there were comfortable chairs about the Agent’s desk. The pair sat down as the welcoming woman took her chair behind the desk. Looking about, the Pilot-Astrogator could see nothing threatening about. All was clean and even the angles were rounded about the pillar supports to the floor above the ground level. Only the gentle hum of the air condensers could be heard. There was no music nor any scents other than the Humans and Kakhskha next to Dead-Hex. He clasped his claws in his lap.

“Thank you for seeing us, ma’am,” said Capt. Kakhskha. “We want to know the meaning behind a simple analogy that we have picked up in town. It reads strange to me since I do not speak Zdetl and it confuses my first mate here who is fluent in your language.”

“Curious,” said Bevdril Shtachvoro. “By the way, you may call me Bev if you like, Captain. I am happy to get the opportunity to meet visitors. You have been displayed over many of the networks these past few days since your arrival. What is this analogy you need clarified? It seems to have some weight to you to have come to my office.”

Dead-Hex’s right claw itched the fur about his Wafer Jack. He had reached up to scratch under the silver torc loaned to him by Kakhskha. It reminded him of why he had demanded to come along. Under their shielding head-scarves, he was getting warmer by the moment with his nerves bothering him. It felt like an Astrogation that was about to be denied by the ship’s computer, that moment before pressing the COMMIT button.

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down A Peg pt. 56

Marine Lt. Ardell entered the cabin at Dead-Hex’ call of, “It’s open.” She stepped into the male’s messy, unkempt stateroom aboard the Gatherer. Slob. Why do all the smart people get to have trashy living quarters? She spotted the Pilot-Astrogator standing next to his computer terminal. On the desk was Dead-Hex’s laz-pistol, his Portable Controller and between the two sat a small, ruby-red Wafer. The mottled gray and black male still wore his black desert robe over his Seruean, armored bodysuit.

“Are we gonna have ‘the talk’ now?” asked downtrodden Dead-Hex.

“Mm-hmm,” nodded Ardell. “I’ve got the story from the Captain already. She’s on the Bridge. As the ship’s Counsellor, this is in confidence. So, you wanna tell me what happened next?”

The male’s gray eyes slowly came up to meet Ardell’s. This was going to take a while, so the valkyrie sat down in the chair that was likely shoved across the cabin to stop next to the door. Her leg was aching again. Ardell wore her own armored suit, but as she had been on the Surveyor ship and having turned in her report, there was no need to dress like a Seruean desert nomad.

It was now a full day’s flight from Zhiblchins and the Gatherer was approaching ninety Diameters, the earliest by everyone’s understanding that the Ultimate stage Jump Drives could initiate a jump from the system. Dead-Hex had been granted permission to run the calculations from his cabin, through his Portable Controller now on his desk. He looked like he had not showered or eaten. His exposed mane and his tail were still wild and unkempt.

“The Captain, Kakhskha said she fell asleep in the Agent’s office and then when she next woke, you were toting her outside the building and clipping her to the extraction line from the starboard airlock. What happened in there, Dedhekhsgourz?” Ardell used his birthname so as to punctuate that she was both professional and serious in her role as the Counsellor.

“It was hot, Lieutenant,” mumbled Dead-Hex. “When Kakhskha produced that written word, Fienzhatshtiavl, I saw her panting too. It was then I knew that the ambient temperature in the room wasn’t just me. The heating was being raised. I think because it was to encourage us to remove our head-scarves, Ardell. Once those were off, our minds would have been unshielded by our own doing.” He continued the recount.

* * *

Agent Shtachvoro received the slip of paper that had the Zdetl word for Yonder Chilling Thought written on it. Dead-Hex, having been around Zhodani Humans far more than Capt. Kakhskha seated to his left, spotted and read the body language, the facial expression and the intense grip the woman had on the paper. Blood drained from her face. Kakhskha missed it in her desire for an answer.

The beige female from the Ascendancy Pact asked, “I believe it transliterates to ‘Yonder Chilling Thought’, but if it is anal-“ She was cut off by the Agent.

“Where did you get this?” asked the sharp voice from Bevdril.

It was a rehearsed lie that had been previously agreed upon. Kakhskha answered, “One of our crew heard it in the concourse as we were perusing cargos to purchase.” With their Psi-Shield shemagh still on their heads, Dead-Hex was sure that telepathy was not going to betray the lie. But then Kakhskha was never a good liar and her poker face needed work. Dead-Hex secretly palmed his Rage-5 Wafer and accidentally swallowed the Combat Drug SE he had held in his upper gums, above his teeth. In thirty seconds, it would light his metabolism afire.

There was a space of a few seconds where Bevdril had to compose herself as she stared her dark brown eyes at the Captain. Then she looked between the two Vargr and at the office door in which they had entered to sit. Dead-Hex’ ears thought he heard the door lock. The smell of Human sweat became evident to the Astrogator as the Proles’ breathing elevated. Yet he put on his best blank expression of a subordinate Vargr to Capt. Kakhskha before the Agent of the Tavrchedl’.

“You are lying, Captain,” declared Bevdril deadpan and dry. “This is not some analogy. During your stay here on Zhiblchins, your every move has been watched and every attempt to learn how you slipped past the Patrol Fleets out of Chtialchtachtiesh and Rdozhinspazh. None of the ships that have arrived these past days have reported seeing your Gatherer. The Freight you off-loaded, the speculative cargo you sold as well as the Passengers you brought suggest that your ‘Surveyor’ ship does not have the kind of fuel to allow two L-hyd jumps from Izsiqrl, the interface world to the Zhodani Consulate. How did you come to Apla (Tlabrieish 0521), Captain?”

“That is a trade secr-“Kakhskha tried to answer but was again cut off by the impatient Agent.

“More lies. Do all Vargr fabricate and tell such lies at a moment’s notice?”

Dead-Hex began to pant now that he could no longer tolerate the office’s heating. He covertly raised the ruby-red Wafer in his claw and reached up to scratch his neck.

Agent Bevdril Shtachvoro snapped the fingers of her left hand. It was a signal, the Astrogator guessed. The two Prole assistants stepped to the seated Vargr and unceremoniously yanked back the hooded covering of the head-scarves on the Vargr pair. “We tried doing this the mundane way, but we are now out of time given this word you have brought me. Let’s see…”

Dead-Hex gritted his teeth, baring them in anger. Kakhskha looked up at the Prole who had disrobed her head in both surprise and shock. “How dare!”

It was over in seconds. Dawning recognition and understanding washed over the face of Bevdril Shtachvoro. Dead-Hex guessed that the Agent had read Kakhskha’s mind and memories in a flash. Nodding, she explained, “The Fienzhatshtiavl is an anomalous psychic phenomenon, a propagation wave from the galactic core, discovered by the Seventh Core Expedition which has been recorded to drive all tested and trained Psions, of any Stage, to madness. It has a similar but less effect upon the lesser minds of Proles, animals, even plants. It cannot be stopped and has been collapsing proper societies since and is already two-thirds way though Anzsidiadl Sector, which you call Ghoekhnael. I only know this because of my clearance to watch for such information leaks. This is why so-called ‘psions’, as you can guess, are escaping Rimward in hopes it will fade as it spreads. I felt it a consolation to tell you fully before it is removed. You have no need to know this word or what it means to the Zhodani.”

“What are you g-“Kakhskha was cut off a third time by the Agent.

“Sleep, dear.” Agent Shtachvoro stared intently into the eyes of the beige Vargr female.

In a few seconds, the Captain’s voice diminished to a mumble, her head tilted forward and her eyes closed. Stunned in amazement Dead-Hex was caught with his guard down. Then the Agent turned her eyes on the male.

“It’s alright, first officer,” Bevdril offered. “I promise you that this is necessary and will not hurt. In my experience, it is best to start with subordinates first as they are also lesser-minded who are much more easily read. Don’t worry or fret. You are locked in here us.”

When the palmed ruby Wafer’s circular, magnet contact made the connection to his scratched open Wafer Jack, Dead-Hex felt an instantaneous surge of pure, unadulterated Urzaeng Rage. It had no reason for its being. There was no need for provocation, revenge, slight or justification. It was rage, pure and simple. The electrifying surge hit the Duelean male like a lightning bolt just as the Combat Drug SE kicked in. He had never experienced this level of emotional rage. He was defenseless against its power. His adrenaline and endorphins shot through his system like molten lava just as the Wafer took over his rational mind. He was enraged.

Dedhekhsgourz’ voice was deeper and came from the abdomen. It was throaty. He spoke through the rage as he flexed his claws and bared his teeth in a grisly smile, “You’re wrong. You’re locked in here with me.” Strangely enough, in the back of his mind, the male Vargr didn’t care anymore. The darkest thoughts that could possibly form became as a library of cruelty for him to peruse.

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down A Peg pt. 56a

“I was never a fighter, Lt. Ardell,” explained Dead-Hex who still stood in his cabin as the Counsellor listened. “Sure, every Vargr grows up learning Infighting with claws and teeth and knows how to challenge properly. But this was nothing like that. I stood in a room with three, slow-moving, Human mannequins and my body did whatever felt natural…primal, more like. I felt like some backseat passenger the entire time. My body didn’t care. It was being run by my rage.”

* * *

With his right claw, the Vargr who was Dedhekhsgourz pulled up his Psi-Shield shemagh, but not before Agent Bevril Shtachvoro got a detailed look inside his raging mind. He half-cared whatever she saw, especially now that it frightened her swarthy face to an ashen gray as her eyes went wide.

The Vargr’s left claw caught the forearm of the first thrown punch. The deft blow caught the shorter lupine under his left eye. It hurt, but that barely registered to the enraged male. His left claw merely seized the retreating arm above the wrist and he squeezed. The two bones in the man’s hand splintered under the superhuman grip fueled with Combat Drug SE. The taller man screamed to see his forearm bend in a way it was never meant. He collapsed in frenzied pain, unable to concern himself with anything else.

The second Prole charged Dead-Hex with an attempt to grapple the Vargr. Being already shorter and with a lower center of gravity, the berserker merely crouched lower and let the first touch of the man’s fingers brush his robe and neck ruff. The mad lupine simply met the rush with his own head-butt to the man’s nose and forehead. The entire tangle melted as the man never rose. The nose bones had been shoved through his face and into his brain, killing him instantly. The butting action stung Dead-Hex but he was riding shotgun to his own body. Back there in the rear of his cranium, the Astrogator was considering what pain could possibly get through all the adrenaline and endorphins he was high on.

Screaming in fear and anger at whatever she had read, Agent Bev rounded her desk and tried some sort of martial art stab with a knife-like hand to Dead-Hex’ throat. He caught the hand instead in his teeth and bit down hard. He tasted blood as the bones of the extremity crunched under the pressure of his jaw muscles. Holding her grappled in her teeth, he punched her with uppercut which threw back her head at stole her balance. The woman’s free hand punched his capturing muzzle hard. The Duelean did not care. Pain was his friend now, coming or going. Somehow, he would feel it later. If there was a later.

Wrenching the woman by her hand, Dead-Hex’s own weight drew her back forward and he deftly picked her up from under her chest and abdomen. Bodily he carried her in a rush to the locked door. Above him, Agent Bev had only time to recover to get a very close view of the barring structure. The drug and the rage put so much momentum behind his battering action that the metal bent when the two crashed into it. Yet the door held.

“Unlock it or you die, bitch!” Dead-Hex growled deeply from below the battered Agent. Blood oozed down her face where he had rammed her head into the door. “Now!”

Logically, in the far rear of his skull, Dead-Hex tried to reason with his emotional body that the woman was probably too dazed and in pain to think the door unlocked as she had when it had first become so. But his Urzaeng Rage, a new phenomenon for the Gvegh Vargr, was not listening. He rammed the woman again into the door, spilling her turban to the floor in a tangle of white fabric and letting her bloodied hair fall loose.

How he heard the door unlock through the pounding of his own heart, was something only Rational Dead-Hex could fathom. When the door swung slightly open due to the dented change in weight, the raging monster then dropped the body on his shoulders to one side. With the woman still trying to recover slowly, his left claw seized her neck, his claw tips digging into her muscles.

“You aren’t meant to know this side of the Vargr. It must be removed.” The very same second the Agent was able to recognize the words he spoke, Dead-Hex crushed her windpipe and then tore it claw-fully from her neck. Blood shot from the woman’s ascending artery and sprayed the mottled male. But Urzeng Rage was not one to allow Dead-Hex to enjoy any of what it was doing. It was rage, yes, but not satisfying in the least. It was just rage without any additive descriptors.

Stalking back to the desk and chairs, Dead-Hex easily hefted the sleeping Captain and put her over his right shoulder. Then he stalked from the room by pushing open the door to slam against the wall to which it was hinged.

Proles who encountered the feral Vargr hugged the wall or cut wide swaths around him. With his head-scarf on his head, now a minor detail to the raging Dead-Hex, any telepathic Psi-attacks – if there were any – were met with the Seruean shield shemagh. And true to their natures, the Zhodani with psionics relied heavily on trying to subdue him and failing miserably. All too soon the berserker achieved the foyer entrance, procured the laz-pistol sidearms in his bloody claws. With his respirator again worn and Kakhskha’s fitted, Dead-Hex kicked open the polymer door to cause a small blast of exiting air, pushing him from behind and into the shadowed chasm floor.

* * *

“When we got your Comm’s panic-button signal, Anghal pulled us from the hangar and we converged on your position,” reported Lt. Ardell. “By the time we were overhead, Kakhskha was already awake again and you were clipping her first to the extraction line so we could haul you up.”

“Yeah,” agreed Dead-Hex who now kept his eyes to the floor.

The Counsellor tried humor next by saying, “Although flying south against aerospace traffic was nervewracking.” Dead-Hex did not laugh. “Hey. You’ve never had to kill, am I right? This was your first.”

Dead-Hex nodded in the affirmative but kept silent. He’d talked. He was sore from the exertions he would never had tried without the enhancing Combat Drug SE or the slotting of the Rage-5 Talent Wafer. His face was swollen slightly and his muzzle was bruised. The taste of Human blood was still on his teeth. It was a flavor he thought he would never forget.

“Dead-Hex,” said Lt. Ardell, “I know. You’re a Merchant, not some member of the armed forces. This wasn’t over Charisma like some Infighting duel. You were fighting for her and for your mind and memories. Sure, they’re chasing us. But they can’t do what this ship can. Hey. I brought us something.” The Marine fished from her web belt pouch a metal flask. Engraved on it was some unit heraldry, likely from valkyrie unit Ardell was a member. “I’ve fought Zhodani at the Battle of Ungkhou. This will wash it away for now, but we need our Dead-Hex back. If there’s anything else you need to say, come get me. We’ll get it off your chest.”

“Yeah,” answered the Duelean Vargr.

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down A Peg pt. 57

The jump route and flight from the remnant Zhodani Consulate Navy was a game of hunter-hunted. From Zhiblchins, Kakhskha had ordered a different route home. She had hoped that claiming to be a registered Seruean vessel, the pursuers would focus their attentions on Apla and Izsiqrl, the path the Gatherer had taken in coming to the Yeplzhaf Capital. But with this insane mission completed and all the information she needed gleaned by hook or by crook, the return trip could more directly escape back to Roethoeegaeaegz and Matron Sanghthaghlla Thazdhoth.

The Zhodani were fleeing the Fienzhatshtiavl, the Yonder Chilling Thought. It was causing a mild and controlled migration that Kakhskha could see escalating in to a Human stampede. Psions were being herded Rimward by the phenomenon which the Agent had reported were being driven insane. Since the Zhodani Consulate order was dependent on psionics, a loss would rupture their entire way of life. Chaos, over time, would rule. But not anytime soon. Bevdril had said that the weird wave was two-thirds through Ghoekhnael and coming Rimward slowly. Who knew truly how much time the Zhodani had? This was no longer about failed colony populations. It had nothing to do with Unabsorbed worlds of the former Consulate now that the borders had been retracted. Kakhskha now knew the reason why the glows on the planetarium Psi-Map Exhibit had diminished. The opened minds of psionicists were in jeopardy of losing those minds. For without bureaus like the Tavrchedl’, order and law enforcement would have to be done the mundane way. Kakhskha shook her head. How long would it take for the Zhodani to default to such mundane methods after having been able to detect and head off early any potential misbehavior before a true crime could be committed?

There would be a land-grab. The border had already been retracted for some time. The Matron of Roethoeegaeaegz had only recently been told, perhaps this very year. After mingling at the celebration party, Kakhskha had learned that the populace relocations had been in effect for some time. Under the guise of Zhodani policy of world colonization, Proles, Intendants and Nobles were being given reason to leave their homes for new lives Rimward. It was to help them escape the chaos coming. The truth was being kept from them. Truth that, in the case of Consul Ifril was being leaked anyhow.

But Vargr Psions of the Extents were no less vulnerable, Kakhskha added to her mental list to report. The psionicists who had evidenced Awakening to the mental powers would be displaced just as well if this Fienzhatshtiavl was just as potent against the Vargr. The Captain of the Gatherer had conferred with Professor Zannun. Through his Scholarly education, the two decided that no such aid to help the flight of the open-minded Vargr would be coming from the worlds the oncoming wave crashed upon. They would either move of their own volition or be struck by Yonder Chilling Thought without warning. Perhaps some news might reach their ears a year or two before the arrival of the wave, but just as many would miss the warning signs. It would be a mental genocide upon the tested and trained.

The Tavrchedl’ Agent had also leaked overconfidently that untrained minds, animals and somehow plants would all be affected by the Fienzhatshtiavl even if to a lesser degree. Certainly, the collapse of a Zhodani Consulate society would be a given as Proles would be faced with a choice of self-governance and control enough to pick up the pieces and police their own as well as contain insane and empowered Psions running amok, possibly using their powers here and there. The wave would likely hit many Vargr worlds already used to change, even rapid changes. Psions would be arrested, captured or put down. According to the Professor’s understanding of Psychohistory and Psioncology, even if it was not his Major, Vargr would pick up the maddened individuals and polities would recover much quicker than the Humaniti to Spinward. There could possibly be opportunity for Corsairs or pocket empire navies to take advantage of the Zhodani if Humaniti were to suffer a worst possible case.

Professor Zannun agreed with Dead-Hex when the Astrogator suggested that long-jumping ships might try to bypass the Fienzhatshtiavl by jumping through the wavefront. However, the Scholar had to point out that like waves of water, the forward edge was just the beginning of the energy behind any propagation wave. How far would a jump capable vessel have to reach to provide its psionic passengers asylum from the Yonder Chilling Thought? It was a question with no definite answer the two had decided and put to Capt. Kakhskha.

Could the Psions shelter in place? This question was asked by the Marine Lt. Ardell, the ship’s Medic and Counsellor. Present in the Jump Space transit from Zhiblchins to empty parsec 0522 just Rimward of Apla, the crew of the Gatherer discussed further what could be done. Zannun could only offer his guess that perhaps with enough nested shielding and even cryo-sleep to keep Psions under wraps might mitigate the damage a fully-awake Psion might unleash once struck by the Fienzhatshtiavl. But could such a shelter, psi-bunker or shielded vault be sufficiently constructed for Zhodani or the open-minded Vargr of the Extents? Chief Engineer Anghal noted then that such would require the continued cooperation of high-technology worlds such as Serue as psi-technological devices were the monopoly of TL-15 worlds. Zannun nodded his agreement.

In order to slow the devastation or mitigate the Fienzhatshtiavl damage, the Ascendancy Pact must hold off in invading and conquering Serue (Knoellighz 1221) just to Coreward. But could the Representatives and the three Magistrates of the Pact be convinced of the existence of the Yonder Chilling Thought without inciting a bloodthirsty land rush for worlds being evacuated from Riadr, Etlieejibia and parts of Yeplzhaf Subsectors? There were quite a few Agricultural, Garden, Rich and Terra Prime worlds that could be conquered merely by landing minimal troops with no space battles or with minimal engagements. It would make the rulers of Vargr polities salivate to take advantage of the flight from the wave.

Through this meeting, Kakhskha suffered an internal debate as to how much she could exclude in her final report to Matron Sanghthaghlla. Could she satisfy the Gatherer’s mission-giver with a report that only covered migrations based on a Zhodani policy over failed colonies? Or would she have to come completely clean and display every world’s vulnerability to the Fienzhatshtiavl and the chaos it was inflicting?

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down A Peg pt. 57a

239-1105 Anjazolvliad (Tlabrieish 0623) C895544-9 Ag Ni ZhSh
http://wiki.travellerrpg.com/Anjazolvliad_(world)

“Captain, they’ve seen our breakout flash and I’m receiving hails from System Traffic Control,” announced Prof. Zannun. He had lifted the headset from his ears to alert Capt. Kakhskha.

“War is coming far to Rimward, Professor,” answered the female from the Ascendancy Pact. “Fleets are moving to Ziafrplians Sector. Forces are gathering there. The Consulate Navy is on the move from what Dead-Hex and Anghal saw in the services drydock on Zhiblchins. They’re on alert. I’m charging the Stealth Mask for the in-system transit. Helm, make this fuel run fast and furious.”

“Yes ma’am,” acknowledged Dead-Hex who then throttled the Gatherer to its maximum three gees of Maneuver Drive acceleration. The Surveyor ship had to both skim for fuel and spend time deploying its Canopy so as to recharge the Collector Drive. With luck, the local system defense was not alerted to the escaping Vargr ship via this route. Kakhskha hoped that Zhiblchins would assume the Gatherer would flee directly for Serue and fall into whatever net they may have readied at Izsiqirl.

“And we’re to fly silent? No answer or IFF transponder?” The Professor was nervously curling his tail again.

“For the next few weeks, Zannun,” explained Capt. Kakhskha, “we get to pretend to be Corsairs. The idea is to clip through Ajazolvliad, then depart the Consulate proper for Gorraeggaeghkoull (Knoellighz 1023) where we will again run silent as predator Corsairs, along the border of the Ascendancy Pact and effectively laundering our flight path when we re-enter the Pact border at the Barren border world of Thueknorrurr (Knoellighz 1127). There, we can reactivate our transponder and take a backdoor return to Roethoegaeaegz as a registered vessel of the Pact under my homeworld as simple traders. I made sure to purchase 37 tons of Zhodani Collectibles and Ag Imbalance Pigments so as to validate our commercial story to any Pact Admiralty ships that might stop us for inspection. The Matron’s fleets will be looking for us along the Coreward border, the route we took in escaping with you two males. Perhaps at Utogagzae, we can further launder our identities by mixing in with Corsairs or Privateer traffic. If not, then there is conducting trade at the very low-tech world of Osathasa where we might truly earn some credits from the locals before returning to the Matron’s back porch.”

“I have not asked you yet, Captain,” warned the Professor, “if we were going to give Matron Sanghthaghlla the entirety of our findings.”

“Please don’t, Zannun,” requested Kakhskha. She had not decided. It was testing her loyalty to her homeworld, home polity and the decency against future chaos in Knoellighz Sector. “Just monitor the Comms and we’ll soon be a lot safer.”

Hails were repeatedly received and met with the Gatherer’s static. At one point, Dead-Hex had to lose a local patrol craft in the long and thick clouds of the single Gas Giant as the ship’s scoops took in hydrogen fuel for the onboard processors to refine into proper L-Hyd. With some tricky piloting and a turbulent ride the Pilot-Astrogator managed to leave the Gas Giant behind by putting as many of the planet’s moons between the Gatherer and the curious patrol craft. Then the ship coasted in powered-down silence toward the captured Red Dwarf star that sat in an adjacent Orbit ring. This was a fortunate find as it kept the Surveyor ship from having to collect the needed exotic particles for the Collector Drive to recharge from the F0 V stellar primary. A flight to the center of the system was both risky and cost too much time for Kakhskha’s liking.

To put still more distance between the escaping Vargr ship from Zhiblchins, Kakhskha ordered Dead-Hex to plot a jump to empty parsec 0824. The more vacant parsecs the Zhodani Navy in Yeplzhaf Subsector had to search, the thinner was the potential encounter. Lacking their own Collector Drives, pursuers would be dependent on Gas Giant skimming to refuel as well as making shorter jumps to retain enough fuel to return from an empty parsec. None of the charts that Dead-Hex had purchased had spoken of calibration points, hidden depots of fuel, ice or other sources was displayed; though Kakhskha had to pessimistically point out that the charts purchased were civilian release versions. That declaration had flattened the Astrogator’s ears.

The weeks passed as the crew grew silent. Some were becoming distant. Kakhskha took the time to read the hardcopy reports that she had purposefully kept herself ignorant lest her mind be read. She was justified in delaying the gathered intel back in Agent Bevdril’s office when her mind was invaded, read and she was put to sleep by the Tavrchedl’ woman. In collating the gathered details, Kakhskha had learned of the fleet movements, military vessels being serviced with first priority on Zhibhlchins’ A-rated Downport. The beige female read how Lt. Ardell had seen advertisements posted online and on posters about Zhiblchins Shadowport. The call for military recruits, both Naval and Marines was drawing Human resources as well as ramping up logistics for other fleet assets. War was indeed coming to Rimward. She had already watched the markets online. Cargos were subtly being shunted laterally in favor of speculatives that would fuel such a war. Merchants, ignorant or savvy to the lots’ natures would soon be trafficking in war credits, quick and dirty money that came from the need to keep soldiers active planetside and fleets battling for mainworld orbital territory. Kahskha kept reading her crew’s reports.

The Zhodani Consulate border had been retracted and the Vargr were left purposefully to learn of it on their own. Vargr Emissaries and Zhodani Diplomats would be withholding information or outright lying to each other for the next several years, Kakhskha guessed. Populations would be relocating or being uprooted forcefully in the case of uncompliant, Unabsorbed worlds of Riadr, Etlieejibia Subsectors. The Zhodani had their work cut out for them. But this was the same polity that was famous for its quiet, efficient, mind-controlled society. It was the most tuned tyranny in Charted Space. Regardless of the public policy reasoning, Kakhskha had seen the truth behind the relocations, forbidden knowledge the Agent had declared. Kakhskha had to determine if this was the story she would bring to her Matron. The truth was far more terrifying.

Non-Psions were just as vulnerable to the Fienzhatshtiavl as the Psions. The mundanes were merely going to suffer less though entire worlds might endure upheaval and potentially uprisings. In the Vargr Extents, this would be a fraction of change the Zhodani Consulate would endure, change that the Vargr race was already willing to see given Vargr Charisma. They could weather this wave as their worlds were not dependent on psionic control of the average citizen. Dead-Hex was right. It was sounding more and more like some pre-apocalyptic holovid production. How much could the Captain of the Gatherer release to the Extents? To give too much would invite war right here in Knoellighz Sector and further solidify the so-called Crystal Wall of Knoellighz for generations.

The electronic bell pinged at her cabin door the last day before breakout of parsec 0826. “It’s Dead-Hex, Kakhskha. May I come in? I, uh, brought my guitar.” It was time for the talk as Kakhskha’s friend, Lt. Ardell put it.

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down A Peg pt. 58

Dead-Hex had decided to stop hiding behind Counselor Ardell’s patient confidentiality and speak to Kakhskha. Except for his duties at the helm, the mottled gray and black male had been avoiding the Captain of the Gatherer. He had not yet spoken of that last encounter in Agent Bevdril Shatochvoro’s office on Zhiblchins. And now, a month later the Pilot-Astrogator was tired of dodging Kakhskha and avoiding her brown irises. But that month gave Dead-Hex the time to plan how to break it to her that her impromptu mate-husband was a murderer in his own eyes. To lubricate the coming encounter, he brought his Duelean twelve-string with him. He intended to play for her alone and had been practicing quietly in his cabin without an electric amplifier. He was about to lose his nerve when the Captain’s cabin door opened.

Per her orders, Capt. Kakhskha still wore her Seruean armored bodysuit. Her lithe form looked smaller without the full volume of her normal Merchants uniform. Her eyes were leveled at him. Was she about to tell Dead-Hex to shove off? “Come in, Dead-Hex.”

Dead-Hex picked easily through the tunes he had planned for Kakhskha. Outwardly she seemed entertained. That is, until his eyes found that her tail was not wagging despite her favored facial expressions. She was listening intently to his tunes, but was not going to let him escape from her cabin without the talk. He played his twelve-string through sober and somber tunes, meditative compositions and then a driving tune. When his digit pads started to complain, he put the instrument aside.

“You want to hear about after you fell asleep, don’t you?” asked Dead-Hex in almost a whisper. It was less a question and more a need for confirmation that this missing piece Kakhskha lacked was what she wanted to hear.

“You had blood on your fur, face, claws and robe, Dead-Hex,” said Kakhskha with a serious tone in her voice. “It wasn’t yours.”

The Pilot-Astrogator reached into the black velvet pouch and plucked the ruby-red, Urzaeng Rage-5 Talent Wafer he had used. “This rode in my pocket and was missed by the weapon detectors. This and the issued dose of Combat Drug SE I swallowed in the heat of that office are what helped me to escape with you, Kakhskha. It’s a very illegal Urzaeng Rage Wafer.”

Kakhskha examined the Wafer in her claws after he surrendered it. Dead-Hex then told her of his murderous Infight with the Zhodani Proles and Agent Bevdril. He left out no details, trying to shore up his defense and his motivations for his barbaric and brute force fight. The Duelean male finished his recount at the moment the beige female had woken and was being clipped to the extraction line to the starboard airlock hatch of the Gatherer hovering meters above them in the shadowy night on Zhiblchins.

“You should have told me of this, Dead-Hex,” Kakhskha declared. “As Captain of this boat, I have to know all the potential assets and…liabilities of my crew. Where did you get this bottled demon?”

“Kakshkha,” explained the male Vargr, “I bought it on the Darknet a year before we first met. Even Anghal doesn’t know I have it. Unlike Arrtha, that Wafer doesn’t have a personality. It’s like a Single Skill Wafer except that it holds a Vargr Talent inside. The Urzaeng, clear across the Vargr Extents, have a potent, sub-species Talent of Rage. So do the Ovaghoun Vargr, though theirs is much less potent. But because I had never slotted the Wafer before, I was unprepared for what it contained. The Urzaeng live with their Rage every day, so they are inured, hardened to their primal reserves. Us Gvegh, we were never meant to have such access to Rage if the Ancients were truly to blame in choosing us.”

“Did you have to kill two of them in protecting me, Dead-Hex?” asked Kakhskha.

“Kakhskha, they were going to enter our minds and rip out everything we had learned. I both panicked and was angry when that Agent put you to sleep. I couldn’t in the moment tell if you were simply asleep, unconscious or dead. I didn’t have time. When her eyes met mine, I acted. I acted without thinking of the consequences. You were down and I was surrounded. Ardell says it was survival then and there. The sickening thing is that I killed for the first time in my life. Me, a Merchant like you. We’re not soldiers. Our battles involve haggling over credits and cargos. It was a gross taste for the first time and will haunt me for a long time to come.”

The beige female in the Seurean bodysuit remained standing but tilted her head. “Why have you waited this long to give me this report, Dead-Hex?”

Dead-Hex’ tail curled fully between his legs. His ears drooped back, flattened. “I-, I don’t want to lose you, Kakhskha. I was afraid that this talk would anger you, disgust you or some other reaction. I was afraid it was going to get me canned at the next Starport you could kick me off the ship. I murdered those Humans in defense of what? Memories they were going to erase, delete or whatever the Tavrchedl’ were gonna do. I like being your husband, Kakhskha even though we’ve not been formally mated. I was afraid you’d take this off.” The mottled male pointed to the silver torc with the large, crystal amethyst.

Kakhskha stepped close to Dead-Hex then and her brown eyes burrowed into his. In a lower tone and just above a whisper, she growled, “Then, Dedhekhsgourz, you need to decide between that torc and this…thing. I want a male who can save me with his head screwed on right. I don’t want a berserker who has to slot something he isn’t just so he can kick tail. You already have talent, Dead-Hex. Shine where you do best. Not this.” At that, she thrust the Rage Wafer back into the Pilot-Astrogator’s claw palm. “I want a mate who can obey his Captain, love his mate-wife and fly this ship like nobody’s business. I came out to the stars to find you, Third Officer Dedhekhsgourz, because the submissive males back home are bejeweled fops compared to you. Don’t disappoint me again. Got me?”

Thoroughly cowed and yet somehow his dignity and Charisma kept afloat by her compliments, Dead-Hex responded just as quietly to Kakhskha, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good,” nodded the Captain of the Gatherer. “Now go get the rest of that blood-reek scrubbed out of you.”

Nodding in compliance, Dead-Hex managed to step back, retrieve his guitar and make his retreat from the Captain’s cabin.

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down A Peg pt. 59

255-1105 Gorraeggaeghkoull (Knoellighz 1023) C768585-6 Ag Ni Pr NaVa

The Gatherer spent just over two days of wilderness fuel skimming and collecting exotic particles for the Collector Drive. Kakhskha had given in to Prof. Zannun’s request for a close approach to the K8 V stellar primary so he could record data on a classification that his Canopy had never been spread to receive. The large Gas Giant adjacent to the stellar primary was a novelty that Kakhskha guessed caused flickering of the star’s light as it passed between it and the other planets of the system. The beige female had stood over Dead-Hex as he rode the heavy updrafts of the upper atmosphere. At 1.5 Gs, the Gatherer had to maintain its speed because of the intense gravity of the inner planet. Its only moon was being pulverized by its proximity to the star. Only when the Duelean male had pulled up with a full scoop of fuel for the processors did Kakhkha allow the Professor to open and deploy the Canopy.

It was a tactic that Kakhskha had to credit to Dead-Hex that the Gatherer refuel at the most dangerous Gas Giant and in the direct face of the K8 V star. He explained that it was both convenient for the Canopy and that putting the pale orange primary at their backs, the ship could see any Zhodani pursuit while hunting ships would have a hard time staring into the intensity of the star to search for a speck of a ship. Dead-Hex noted the two smaller Gas Giants of Gorraeggaeghkoull in the ship’s computer Library and had purposefully eschewed them. Other ships routinely used the smaller scale Gas Giants for their ease of skimming hydrogen. But with a rougher ride through the outer atmosphere, only a ship with 2 or better gees of acceleration could manage the innermost large Gas Giant with confidence. And stealth was the order of the Jump Space breakout that Kakhskha had given.

In Orbit 2, two-thirds of an astronomical unit stood the green gem of Gorraeggaeghkoull. The Agricultural world was too low population and too low technology to take advantage of its system. Upon touching down at the C-rated Downport, mostly an aerospace affair, the crew of the Gatherer was gladdened to breath normal, standard air without the aid of a respirator-condenser as they were required on Zhiblchins. Dead-Hex had landed on the largest island to jut from the 80% ocean coverage. The Downport was a curious blend of aerospace landing fields, VTOL pads, a waterside harbor for boats to ships and bridges leading rail trains outward and connecting nearby islands. Professor Zannun had been given priority landing clearance, but Kakshkha did not like the requirement to touch down and land in the nearby harbor waters. For though the Gatherer had Floatation equipment in its hull, she had not yet tested a water landing. The Surveyor could gently touch down in waters, but could not withstand deeper depths should it sink. Given this latter half of the mission, with her homeworld so close and a kicked hornet’s nest behind them, the Captain could afford no strange landings at this juncture. Kakhskha elected to wait in a holding pattern until a dry berth came open.

Upon touchdown, the crew went to work. Kakhskha had been advised to sell ten tons of the Agricultural Imbalance, Zhodani Pigments and was pleasantly surprised to find the colors in demand on Gorraeggaeghkoull. It seemed that the non-aligned world was hungry for anything off-world. The 400,000 or so population publicly admitted to losing its colonization backing during its initial settlement and had sunk to TL-6. The Vargr here were happy to see a civilian starship arrive. Adjacent to the harbor Downport was the Naval Base erected solely to invite non-aligned military starships to refuel and provide liberty to crews. The Startown between the Downport and the Naval Base catered to crews happy to stretch their legs and breathe cleaner, standard air. Alongside the Pigments, Kakhskha released ten tons of the Zhodani Collectibles she had picked up out of curiosity on Zhiblchins. She had selected them because of their peaceful nature and to show the Zhodani Consulate the Gatherer’s trader face. Both lots sold well and the female Merchant was congratulated by Dead-Hex on her bravery to begin selling again. She had been reluctant to leave a trail of their passing in the Markets. Only when the credits from the purchasing warehouse outlets hit the ship’s account did the female from the Ascendancy Pact breathe easier.

“The ship needs Maintenance, Captain,” warned Chief Engineer Anghal in passing by Kakhskha. “She’s overdue by one month since Zhiblchins.”

“I know, Lieutenant,” answered Kakhskha, “but the only A-rated Starport that can handle the Gatherer is our final return to Roethoeegaeaegz. Can we tough it out for another five weeks and catch an IROARN there?”

“Yes, ma’am,” said the brown female, “but I get a Get Out of Barking Pass if anything breaks until then.”

“I am muzzled, Anghal until then.” The two nodded as they parted ways on the concourse from the berth gates. Each had their duties concerning local commerce. Kakhskha was in charge of landing Freight, Cargo, Mail and High Passengers. Anghal, because she was Chief Engineer was only to advertise for Middle Passengers. It was a trip through the bars and alleys that Dead-Hex combed for those desperate for Low Passage aboard the Gatherer.

The Surveyor crew soon found that the farming and ranching world of Gorraeggaeghkoull had youth that was tired of herds and fields. The majority of the Passengers to seek cabins or cryo-sleep capsules were Vargr seeking to join the Naval forces of single world-states that by treaty had committed to the safety of Serue (Knoellighz 1221). The technology Capital of the Sector had no Navy of its own and was too important to allow falling into claws of an empire and keep its neutrality. Kakhskha was reminded of the warning of her Matron. The Ascendancy Pact was the fastest growing polity of Knoellighz Sector. Serue would not easily be conquered if the surrounding worlds and clusters had any say. An annexation war would cost the Pact.

To keep up airs of a simple trader vessel, Kakhskha landed sixteen tons of Hummingsand Freight from the local Markets. The odd grains of sand responded with vibration when stimulated with a particular, inaudible frequency of sound. A comm call to Prof. Zannun yielded only a long, nerdy explanation of crystal lattices and responses to light or sound stimuli. Advertised was the application to lay a fine layer of the Hummingsand under a bed, bunk or other sleeping furniture and enjoy a subtle vibratory massage while asleep and unable to hear the sounds that caused its resonant answer. It was a curious package to be marketed to the Ascendancy Pact, but the Frieght owner hoped the Hummingsand would sell aboard military vessels of the Gatherer’s next port of call, Thueknorrurr (Knoellighz 1127) even if the owner was curious as to how Kakhskha’s ship would arrive at the distant Naval Base in just two weeks rather than three. The Captain of the Surveyor ship shrugged and did not explain. The Collector Drive was not a public technology until Prof. Zannun said so and Kakhskha was going to uphold that agreement until he was willing to advertise as he had on Zhiblchins.

Returning to her ship, Kakhskha was met by Lt. Ardell, the ship’s Medic and Counsellor. The timber wolf pelt nodded her nose toward the islan’s upcountry and said, “This world is beautiful and plentiful. The slab of fish I just ate was to die for, Kakhskha. Are you homesick yet?”

Homesick? Kakhskha compared the distant green line that surrounded the island’s mountains. Given that she had been bitten by the Traveller bug when she was fresh out of college, the beige female recalled the environment crater-domes of Roethoeegaeaegz. Her homeworld would never be this welcoming. It would never be terraformed to this open sky, the oceans, the islands and free-breathing without Vacc Suits and airlocks. Seeing worlds like Gorraeggaeghkoull was a pleasure only enjoyed by Travellers like Kakhskha. Instead of explaining herself, she let her hunger talk, “Show me that restaurant? I’ve been trolling for commerce all day.”

While the valkyrie returned to Surveyor, Kakhskha called Dead-Hex on her comm. Later that evening the two had dinner together. He had been busy talking up Naval recruits and had learned that instead of Seruean protectors, his Passengers were eager to join the Ascendancy Pact Admiralty. Over slabs of spiced fish, the two Vargr talked. Kakhskha found that the male liked being taken on dates. He was too used to clandestine bar-hopping.

“These Navy males can tell which way the wind blows,” explained Kakhskha. “The Pact will someday either skirt Serue or Serue will yield to annexation. Nobody wants a war.”

“They’ve got Deep Mason Guns in the peaks around their Downport and that Highport is a fortress, Kakhskha,” countered the Pilot-Astrogator.

“The Ascendancy Pact will overrun Serue eventually. It’s been this way since the Vargr started colonizing from Gvurrdon Sector so very long ago. I know a war will tear down Serue’s Tech Level. It will be a sad trophy for the Pact to ruin in war the exact thing it wants to control.”

Dead-Hex huffed at the topic. Instead he continued to fumble with the two thin pieces of wood used to eat the cubed fish. “How do they eat food here with these twigs?”

“They’re called ‘chopsticks’, Spacer,” explained Kakhskha. “Don’t tell me that Duelunogorrzuez eats everything through zero-g packaging and straws. The beige female then helped Dead-Hex to hold the twin sticks to grasp bites of his meal. It was humorous, but if the male was not aided, the two would be at the table longer than desired.

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down A Peg pt. 59a

http://wiki.travellerrpg.com/Gorraeggaeghkoull_(world)

It was the first time Dead-Hex was able to be calm around Kakhskha. On the ship, she held herself as the Captain. On the Roethoeegaeaegz train, she was a guised ‘mate-wife’ on a matriarchal hunt for answers. On Zhiblchins, she was some Emissary of a Merchant fashion. She was always ‘on’. Finally, during the last leg of this awful mission, the Duelean male was able to see Kakhskha in a light other than Alpha Female or a victim of a demon. He liked what he was seeing. Now, if only he could eat his dinner on her credit chip-card, without looking like a cub at the table.

When her claws touched his, Dead-Hex tried to hide his wagging tail. He liked her touch. Though focused on holding the chopsticks, the male was hiding his pleasure at contact. This was what made the dinner a date and he saw the Pact female smile, a small curl at the edge of her mouth. Once her guiding digits helped him to grasp the fish and sides better, he listened as she sipped her beverage, an alcoholic fruit cooler. She was gathering momentum or he was reading her incorrectly.

“Thanks for saving me on Zhiblchins, Dead-Hex,” Kakhskha said with a hushed breath. “In that rage, I have had to conclude, you could have inadvertently left me in that office. But you said you took me outside and that’s where I woke up. In the dark, you clipped me to the extraction line first. It has taken me this long to see that you do care and are not just following around a Captain or any other leader type. Where do you see this going, Dedhekhsgourz?”

Dead-Hex put down the annoying wooden twigs. Kakhskha was being serious now that she had fed him. But in this informal setting, she was telling the male that Charisma was not to intrude. This was personal and one-on-one.

“You’re welcome, Kakhskha,” Dead-Hex said. “As for us, I am hitting some rough patches in exploring this relationship. You’re from a matriarchy, Kakhskha. Do you see how that makes me feel role-reversed? It’s normal to someone from Roethoeegaeaegz. I’m Duelean. It’s been crests and troughs, extremes for me, one wild ride in some thrill ride park.” When he saw that Kakhskha was listening, her brown eyes focused on him, he continued, “But, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’m no hero who tries to rescue the female like in the holovids. It just happened to me, is all. There are no rewards for this kind of work. No trophies or medals. I’m not the worst omega in the pack. I’m not the best male in one of your harems either. I just am, and I hope that meets your approval. You are amazing, Kakhskha. I would never have taken this job, attended that party or walked into the Tavrchedl’ building like you did. You picked all the right crew for each task on this mission. Like the derelicts we found. You knew Anghal and I were from Duelunogorrzuez, an Asteroid world and comfortable in freefall. You’re smart. In command. You let me be me, even on the Bridge. You’re wise. When you reassigned us all to take best advantage of our ship skills, I saw that your Charisma wasn’t getting in the way of the best seat on the ship. You are the best on Sensors, Kakhskha. I was winging it.” How he was spilling his feelings this freely, Dead-Hex guessed it was from the talk. She had said she needed to know all the assets and liabilities on the ship. This was similar, but personal. Yet, she had asked and Dead-Hex was now able to talk freely without the others present.

With a quick sip of his own drink, Dead-Hex continued when the female across from him did not interrupt and was listening. She was purposefully giving him the floor. “I’m going to sell that Rage Wafer though I have to put it on the Darknet again. Its aftertaste is something I never want to experience again, Kakhskha. I had thoughts that no one should think. Maybe someone can put it to a better use than I. S’gonna be another hack but, I’ll wait until we have arrive in a lawless, maybe even a government-free world before I try.”

Kakhskha’s body language told the Pilot-Astrogator that she had something else in mind, but the Pact female kept quiet and watched him. He could not tell if she approved or disapproved though she was listening to Dead-Hex. “I’d rather wear this, something I can live up to daily than wait for a time when necessity for rage comes around. A weapon, even at rest, begs to be used. I don’t need that kind of power. I do need this.” He ended his words by tapping his index claw on the amethyst stone on the torc about his neck ruff.

The female Vargr finally spoke. “You do know that we have to go back to Roethoeegaeaegz, right?” Dead-Hex nodded though the thought of having to dress up again was an affront to his Charisma as low as it seemed in recent months.

“The Professor’s question stands though,” declared Dead-Hex in a hushed confirmation. “What are you going to report to the Matron?”

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down A Peg pt. 60

“I need to speak to someone logical that has no emotional attachment to my situation,” declared Kakhskha to her Portable Controller.

The small speakers on the sides of the Portable Controller answered, “AI Counsellor Online. Please state the nature of your situation.”

“Add one Cell. This is going to take a while and I need more processing power.”

“Model/6 bis Computer Cell added to this session,” added the device in Kakhskha’s lap. “Please state the nat-“

Kakhskha cut off the repeated request with, “I need advice on two situations that may or may not be related. The first situation is that I must soon deliver a report to my employer. The mission is completed and I have the pertinent data to deliver. My problem is determining how much of the mission data to surrender to the mission Matron. There is more data that is related, but it’s not required to meet the exacting mission requirements. Yet, I am conflicted because of the following loyalties: self, beliefs and values, government which is tied to my beliefs since Church and State are one, world and polity. I can turn in all the data and wait for a potential reward. I can withhold the superfluous data and barely satisfy the conditions of our mission. But to do so might arouse suspicions that I am hiding data that might be useful to our Matron. However, if I give her the full data set, it could spark a war for violent capture of worlds in Riadr and Etlieejibia Subsectors. Those world populations are being removed from their solar systems and the mainworlds will be there for navies to arrive and claim. What’s worse is that more than one polity will know and a land-grab will spark claim-jumping, conflicts and wars for territory. But wait! There’s more. Standing in our polity’s way is Serue, the technological Capital of Knoellighz. To be in position to annex those abandoned worlds, the Ascendancy Pact has to annex, bypass or conquer a technologically superior world. Dead-Hex says they have six Deep Mason Guns and that their Highport is an orbital fortress. Serue has tech-treaty allies who will no doubt field navies against the Ascendancy Pact. But since it is Seruean technology that everyone, including us, wants preserved; history shows that war erodes those Tech Levels. We will tear down what we want to win. If the Ascendancy Pact goes to war and is stymied by non-aligned fleets, we will be late to claim worlds in Riadr or Etlieejibia. The nearby Democracy of Greats is so far, ignorant of the abandonment, but their war machine has always been slow and heavy. The Pact has the best chance at planting a flag on those worlds. But to do so will blaze a trail of conquest that will lead to so much death, both Vargr and the Zhodani Humans to Spinward.”

Kakhskha took a breath of air and realized she was pouring out to the ship’s computer rather than a friend. But she also knew that despite Counsellor Ardell’s professional chaplaincy, the Lieutenant was also her friend, ship’s Medic and subject to bias in other realms. She was from Nouon, a controlled Colony of Roethoeegaeaegz. Anything she offered could be laced with her own preferences. This is why she had come to the onboard AI Counsellor.

“Then there is the second situation, perhaps related to the first. I’m falling for a male aboard this ship. I mean, I think I’m in love. Dammit. I’m gushing to a bloody computer. Dead-Hex cares for me. He has proven by his actions that he does. I-…I think I care for him, and not just as his Captain. But he, like Professor Zannun has asked me about the report to the Matron. How I turn in this mission could have negative effects for Dead-Hex, the Professor who is Seruean and thus subject to loyalties to his homeworld. Dead-Hex is just a capitalist, but he’s got a heart of gold. I mean, he’s a good Vargr. He’s saved my life repeatedly in service to this ship, on the ground and he truly cares. I’m conflicted between the interests of myself, the crew, this ship in regard to both situations.”

The computer did not put forth answer because it had not been asked to do so yet. Kakhskha continued with, “Ardell is my friend. She’s also a Marine and you know they don’t turn off, ever. The Lieutenant in her will want to complete the mission in spades no doubt. Repairing our reputation back home will be important to her as a valkyrie. But she’s also a Counsellor and a Chaplain. She should understand what is at stake given the data we’ve gathered.”

The Pact female put her claw palms over her eyes and her elbows on the Portable Controller in her lap. Then she added, “I dunno about Chief Engineer Anghal. She’s Duelean, like Dead-Hex. She has these mental lockups and fugues. Both of them have a fear of extreme inclement weather. It’s humorous to me, but I know that it’s serious to them I like Anghal though she’s a greasemonkey devoted to the Drives and systems.”

“Please define ‘greasemonkey’,” interjected the computer voice.

“It’s slang for someone who works diligently with simple machines, complex machines, components, systems, even Drives. It is used both as an endearment and derogatorily.”

“Definition added,” answered the computer, “Please continue.”

“Professor Zannun has kept his end of the agreement for us to be the first ship to utilize his new Collector Drive and Canopy. I fear that he might use that as leverage to warn Serue of the threat from the Pact. But to do so would mean turning my back on my own polity. Matron Sanghthaghlla has agreed to influence the Representative from Roethoeegaeaegz and the Magistrate she helped put in office, so as to hold off invading Serue. Sangthaghlla doesn’t want war either. Serue is a delicate prize that war will only shatter and then everybody loses. If I give over the entire report, without warning the Serueans, Zannun might turn from us, demand we uninstall his Collector Drive and part ways so he can somehow warn his homeworld. While he says Serue is projecting our eventual invasion, he is unaware of just how prepared the Ascendancy Pact Navy truly is.”

Sneaking a peek down at the Portable Controller, Kakhskha could see a text outline forming from what she had divulged to the ship’s computer. “But that’s not all,” she said when the screen’s cursor came to a pause. “Part of the data concerns a psychic phenomenon called the Fienzhatshtiavl. It supposedly means Yonder Chilling Thought. I don’t speak Zdetl. It’s endangering all psionicists and full Psions and threatening the safeties of all non-Psions. This thing, this wave it supposedly takes form of, is coming Rimward and engulfing worlds. I think it will affect Psions, non-Psions, animals and even sensitive plants. What kind of force does such a thing to defenseless plants?”

“More data is needed to answer that question,” answered the computer.

“I don’t need that answered really. Just add this knowledge to the fact that the Zhodani Consulate, a Psion state is in dire trouble of collapse and is already herding the tested and trained Psions before it. But more closely, our Vargr Psions, as few as they are here in Knoellighz are in danger. My crew thinks they should be warned, just as Zannun believes Serue should be warned. I think I should include this part of the report in with the mission report to the Matron. But then, I have no proof other than the original mission data that is easily explained away by Zhodani population policies, colonization failures and a border retraction based on their Tavrchedl’ control of their Prole masses. If a report on this wave-thing got out and was fully believed, it could instigate a full stampede of Humans – and us Vargr to Rimward. I don’t know what to do. It’s a puzzle of morality, loyalty, friendship and loves. What should I do?”

This was the question the computer was truly waiting for. It was similar to pressing a COMMIT button on the Bridge or on the Portable Controller. Only this question was a voiced engage.

“Consider each potential action,” offered the AI Counsellor. Arrows appeared in the margin beside each major situation on the outline. “In each consideration, ask yourself if the action to be taken is true, kind, and necessary. If you find that it meets all three criteria or such that it approximates each, then it is to be undertaken. Please consider each node of the outline at length to confirm your decisions. Do not take an action before a consideration as no time limit for decision has yet been given. Above all, remain safe, sound of body and mind, and preserve both self-worth and command authority befitting your position on this vessel. End of advice.”

“What? No hug? No pep-talk? Not even a scoop of Neapolitan ice cream?”

The AI Counsellor did not respond. Figures. But she now had a method to each situation where before was none. Efficient and emotionless. Kakhskha turned off the Portable Controller and got dressed for the last day in Jump Space to parsec 1025 in Knoellighz Sector.

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down A Peg pt. 61

Thueknorrurr (Knoellighz 1127) B679000-A Di VAsP


“We can turn on the IFF transponder now, Prof. Zannun,” reminded Capt. Kakhskha. “We’re just Merchants on a Surveyor starship again. Civilians and doing business once more.” The breakout to Thueknorrurr (Knoellighz 1127) was a quiet one as the Gatherer arrived with the local F9 V star situated between it and the mainworld. This was so that the crew could deploy the Canopy and collect the needed charge for the Collector Drive at the same time as they commuted toward the charted Highport. The inner system Gas Giant provided a stopover so Dead-Hex and Lt. Anghal could refill the fuel tanks and provide time for the onboard processors time to refine the L-Hyd they would need for destinations after making port. During Collection, Prof. Zannun took his measurements from the F9 V stellar primary and was satisfied that his design held under the larger star’s wind.

But the final approach to Thueknorrurr was a shock to the Professor from Serue. Having finished logging his data to his laptop computer, he happened to look to the forward viewer with its various windows of Sensor feeds. The mainworld had a thinning ring. But when the Captain on the Sensors boards magnified the views, Zannun saw that the ring was a field of starship debris and wreckage from orbital platforms. The Highport facility was in plain Scope and Visor range. It was damaged in several locations and only the hangars seemed to have full lighting. There was no traffic about the space. No ships great or small left or arrived at the docking modules.

“What happened here?” asked Zannun before he thought about what he was asking. He was innocently curious but soon realized his mistake when the Pact females on the Bridge leveled their eyes at him. He pulled off his headset and set himself for their incoming ire. He saw the flattening ears of the Leaguers, Dead-Hex at the helm and Chief Engineer Anghal at her boards. Tails stopped still. He had broached a sore topic and soon found out why.

Though significantly younger than Zannun, Marine Lt. Ardell stepped over to where Zannun was monitoring a nonexistent Comm traffic which was itself unnerving given the superstructures the Gatherer was approaching. “This is one of the victims of the Corsair Band Posthumous, Professor. During the last half of the short Battle of Ungkhou in 1099, those curs slaughtered everyone on the orbital and planetside facilities. Neurological Gas. They were disguised as Merchants in a convoy fleet. Cutting around the battle lines, Posthumous, who believe their lives already over, destroyed every ship trying to escape under a white flag, gassed and hunted the Highport Vargr and then bombed and dusted the Downport and Startown. This is one of the bigger victims of piracy that coincided with the Battle. I’ll kill the next Posthumous, with their conjunction stars insignia, that I see. There were civilians on that planet, Professor. Non-combatants.”

Surprised and yet still collected for a Scholar, Zannun removed his wide-rimmed spectacles and pinched his muzzle bridge. He had touched sensitive nerves. However the topic was not over.

“What, Dead-Hex?” asked Capt. Kakhskha. “You two Leaguers look like kill-stealers caught in the act.” She was meaning that the mottled gray and black male and the chocolate brown female looked guilty of something. The Pact Captain was stern but nowhere bitter as the Marine Lieutenant who turned her head to see what Kakhskha had noticed in the two.

When Anghal locked up into another blank-faced and distant stare, Dead-Hex was left alone to answer the Captain from his seat at the helm. Wringing his claws after removing them from the piloting controls, he spoke nervously as his gray eyes flit from the Captain to the valkyrie and back. “Posthumous, at least at the time of the Battle of Ungkhou, weren’t Corsairs.” The Pilot-Astrogator tried to get the Chief Engineer’s attention with, “Anghal. She’s out. She could tell you more, but those fanatics were under the Hunters’ Bawn Letter of Marque from the Infinity League.”

“WHAT?!” exclaimed Lt. Ardell’s question in surprise. Zannun standing next to her had to flatten his ears at her outburst. The moment suddenly became very awkward for the Seruean Scholar on the Bridge of the Gatherer.

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down a Peg pt. 61a

Ardell could hear the pulse of her own heart in her ears. She could not believe what she had just heard Dead-Hex admit. The Posthumous Corsairs, the scourge of Irrarrdhang and Khuzedhoth Subsectors, had been granted permission, a Letter of Marque from the Infinity League. Those murdering, genocidal Posthumous mongrels had sideswiped the Ascendancy Pact during the Battle of Ungkhou and caused the devastation on the viewer before the Gatherer. With Zannun’s head down and the Captain’s back to the Marine, Ardell stalked across the deck floor of the Bridge toward Dead-Hex. She saw the male’s right claw come up to his chest, just below his heart.

Dead-Hex was already on his feet as the valkyrie passed her open-mouthed friend Kakhskha. With a snarl, Ardell said, “You Zhodani-loving, cross-breeding, sonova-“

“I wasn’t there!” Dead-Hex tried to exclaim in his defense as Ardell grabbed him by his neck ruff with one claw and reared back with her left fist. He was hyperventilating and wide-eyed at the sudden seizure.

Claws, forearms and full limbs grabbed Ardell or the collar cuff of her Seruean bodysuit. Kakhskha and Zannun were trying to part her from the Leaguer. There was a wrestle.

“Ardell! Stand down!” yelled Kakhskha through the pounding of the Marine’s own pulse.

“They killed all those people,” screamed the Medic, “and the League let them!”

“No, Ardell!” cried Dead-Hex.

Ardell punched Dead-Hex up the right side of his muzzle, grazing his nose, before her arm was seized by the stronger Seruean. Surprised at the Scholar’s strength, Ardell struggled and screamed, “Genocidal murderers!” The male cringed in pain and threw his arms across his face in full defensive coverage.

More standing wrestle continued as the Captain and the black-pelt struggled to disentangle Ardell from the Pilot-Astrogator. The valkyrie could barely see from the blood-hazed tunnel vision focused on the Dead-Hex.

“He’s just a Merchant!” yelled Kakhskha. “He wasn’t there!”

Growling incoherently, Ardell snapped her jaws at Dead-Hex in a last attempt to clamp down on the male. “You Leaguers stabbed us in the back with those zealots!”

A fifth claw, warm and its palm against her shoulder, touched Ardell lightly. Someone else had joined in the restraining of the Nouon Marine. From the corner of her eyes, Ardell saw Lt. Anghal to her right. She paused her struggle. It was the warmth and gentility of the Chief Engineer’s touch that stopped the furious valkyrie.

“Ardell,” spoke Anghal grimly, “if you have to hit someone, hurt someone, punish someone; then punish me. I’m ex-League Navy. Don’t hurt Dead-Hex please.”

Breathing heavily and gulping air in heaves, Ardell stopped her struggle and turned her head to look at Anghal. Her pulse slowed enough for her to hear better.

“What?” Ardell gasped.

“The League and the Consulate deplored the atrocity committed by the Posthumous during close of the Battle. Acting on their own tactics, they told us nothing of what they intended to do. We only got word about what they had done just as the Pact called a retreat. Cutting the supply lines was the desired mission. We stayed in the fight only because it and other tactics gave us the endurance to do so. We were losing, Ardell. The Pact was winning a planet on the rumor that it had lanthanum deposits. Everyone was wrong. It was worthless except maybe for nickel-iron. Ardell. Hit me if you have to hit someone on this ship. After the Battle of Ungkhou, the League rescinded their Letter of Marque, citing the Posthumous for their war crimes and breaches of the Hunters' Bawn. Everyone has backed down to the Quiet Wars again.” The last reference was to the Sector's singular instances of trading salvos in the appearance of war, but not engaging to a full-scale conflict.

Ardell thought she was going to claw that somber look off the Navy female. Her heart pounded in her chest. The Marine’s teeth were still bared, her muzzle fully wrinkled in vengeful anger. But she merely breathed through her fangs as Anghal continued. “The League no longer does business with Posthumous, neither as Privateers or as Corsairs. The pirates merely shrugged and returned to wherever they came, perhaps a headquarters Base. They are wanted for that genocide, Ardell. I’m sorry for what happened between the League and the Pact. I’ve apologized to you before.” The chocolate female stood straight and resolute, ready to suffer in Dead-Hex' stead. “Punish me if you must.”

Ardell felt her injured leg give out, its muscle energy spent in straining against two Vargr and trying to rend Dead-Hex. The mottled male had loosed himself from her and had backed against the Engineering Console on the Bridge. His nose was bleeding. The Marine looked at the Pilot-Astrogator’s bloody face and claws. She huffed through her ragged breathing at him, “You, male, could learn a thing from her. She’s a real female Leaguer.” With that, she broke the grasp of the two Vargr, turned and limped from the Bridge.

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down A Peg pt. 62

“Welcome to Ardell’s Den of Pain,” announced the Marine. “You sure you wanna take me on, fly-cub?” Dead-Hex and Lt. Ardell stood in the cleared cargo bay of the Gatherer. The ship was docked at the derelict, orbital space station over the Dieback world of Thueknorrurr. “’Cuz, I have no qualms about hitting a male, Leaguer.”

“You struck a superior officer, on duty, on the Bridge and in plain sight of the Captain - your friend, Ardell,” declared Dead-Hex in response. “As a Marine, you should know to respect chain of command. I may be a Merchant, but on this crate, I’m Kakhskha’s first mate, second in command.”

“I know what a first mate is, Dedhekhsgourz,” answered Ardell. She was unzipping the Seruean bodysuit, down to an insulating lycra-spandex single piece. “But you’re no fighter. Save what Charisma you have left. I’m not apologizing for bloodying your nose. You do this and Kakhskha will have to patch you up in the Clinic. Not me.”

Nodding his agreement, Dead-Hex peeled off his tight-fitting armor suit, glad to be free of its too-snug fit. Shaking out his fur, he wore only a similar pair or lycra-spandex trunks for modesty in the coming Infight. It was to be a toe-to-toe melee to satisfy Charisma. Both Vargr had had enough of the other’s disrespect, sexism, loose tongue and other past issues that had now boiled over to an Infight. Armed with natural weaponry of fangs and claws, the duel was to ensue until one Vargr yielded.

“This isn’t Roethoeegaeaegz or Nouon, Dedhekhsgourz,” warned Ardell. “There won’t be any whining nurses to scrape you off the deck. There’s no shortage of males out here. No Recovery to protect you.” She was goading him as well as warning him. The Marine stretched and flexed her claws.

“I wish it had not come to this, Ardell,” countered Dead-Hex. “I’m no fighter, but I can wing it like no other.” With the cargo hold emptied of containers and the crew of the Gatherer off ship and doing business, the two Infighters had met the next day to settle Charisma.

“Come get some, whelp,” invited the valkyrie.

Dead-Hex pulled the ruby-red Urzaeng Rage-5 Talent Wafer from its black velvet pouch and almost hammered it onto his Wafer Jack connection. This time he knew what to expect as the unadulterated rage electrified his body. Exposed fur on his body stood on end as he felt his endorphins, dopamine, and adrenalin surge like a tsunami through his muscles.

“Oh,” toothily smiled Ardell, “now you’ve done it, male.”

With a guttural growl, Dead-Hex snarled, “No fight, argument, haggle or starship engagement is ever fair. Grrarrh!” At that, the two charged each other. The Pilot-Astrogator, aware of the Wafer’s attempt to push him into the backseat of his brain, denied the inner beast and kept his mind as the first blows were traded. This was about Charisma, not to kill each other. He assumed the Urzaeng knew this too when they scanned and coded the Rage-5 Talent into the Wafer he now wore. Yet he somehow kept his claws closed in tight fists as Ardell’s horizontal swipe was ducked by the crouching Gvegh-Urzaeng, hybridized Vargr. With a springing rise, he threw himself into an uppercut that launched the Marine up and back, off-balance to land hard on her back. But instead of following her down to clamp his teeth on her throat, Dead-Hex failed to control the urge to keep the fight going. His feral emotions made him circle about Ardell as she picked herself off the deck.

Growling and snarling erupted from both Vargr. The two spent several, immeasurable increments of time trying to bite, claw, punch or trip each other. Ardell had melee combat tactics on her side and she was fast with her maneuvers despite her injured leg. She had learned to compensate against a lack of running speed. The Infighting pair traveled over the entirety of the seventy-ton cargo hold. The two danced, jumped, ducked, side-stepped and shoved each other to little effect, so evenly were they matched in what mattered.

Dead-Hex overextended a missed, back-fisted cross and its momentum spun him such that Adell fell to a crouch and bit him on the tail. The pain joined his friends, rage and endocrine system. He roared a welcome of pain. The bite forced him to curl his tail but the mottled male mimicked her crouch to lower his center of gravity in completing the spin to face her once more. Ardell’s teeth were bloody. She had drawn first blood. Somewhere in the male’s mind, Dead-Hex thanked the Marine that he had not been bitten in a vital spot.

Both Infighters struck low blows simultaneously. Ardell shredded his trunks with her claws, but it was the punch to his nether regions that would shoot his whine in pain up two octaves. But he had landed his own rage-fueled blow to her weak spot. The punch, like a battering ram, took out her injured leg at the inner thigh, her balance and forced her collapse to the floor again. Ardell screamed in fury that the Pilot-Astrogator had attacked her there.

Dead-Hex stood over Ardell and yanked off the Urzaeng Rage Wafer. The ruby-red stick came easily away as the reluctant magnets parted, the contact broken. Ardell rolled in pain onto her back in a defensive wrestler’s posture. Tears wet her eyes and she was unable to return to standing. For his part, Dead-Hex was fully exposed with nothing between him and the cargo bay bulkheads but his mottled black and gray fur. With the Rage extracted, he felt mercy reach through his emotions and land restraint to his will to cause more pain to the Marine on the floor.

“Stand up,” dared the male Vargr who tried to get his voice back down to his normal pitch.

“Grr! I can’t, you Leaguer.”

“Then yield.”

He could see that this may have been the first Infight that the Marine had ever lost. Sure, he had cheated. Ardell was combat trained, gifted in tactics, hardened and had gotten the jump on Dead-Hex in every exchange of blows. She would have put him down easily had it not been for his skill improvisation and the slotting of the Wafer.

“To a male?” barked Ardell in a snarl that was less a question and more a protest.

“Charisma is settled, Lieutenant,” said Dead-Hex as he gripped his bleeding tail. “Never strike me again while I’m your superior officer on this ship. In return, I’ll keep my big mouth shut and think before I speak. I’m sorry for what Posthumous did here. I’m not a pirate. I had no business in the Battle of Ungkhou. I was nowhere near there at the time. Got me?”

Half-crawling away from the male, Ardell stayed on the floor. Her eyes calmed and she hid her teeth again before saying, “Yeah sure. Whatever.”

Dead-Hex had to be satisfied with the answer from Ardell. She was from Nouon and raised on the same matriarchy as Kakhskha. She would likely never speak to Dead-Hex as an equal. Though he had leveled the playing field with the Rage Wafer, her upbringing would never see males and females in egalitarian terms. The culture was too ingrained in her. Instead, he hid his groin with one upper extremity while offering a helping claw genuinely out to the downed female.

Ardell narrowed her eyes at the gesture. But when she found she still could not stand on her own, the Marine hissed as she took hold of Dead-Hex’ claw and rose shakily. When the two were again at eye level to each other, he nodded at her.

“How’d I do?” risked Dead-Hex in a softer voice. He held Ardell’s claw as she limped beside the Third Officer of the Gatherer.

“Your technique is crap, Leaguer,” answered Ardell. But with her ears flattened and her tail low, she added, “It’s about time you stood up for yourself, Third Officer Dedhekhsgourz. It would have sickened me further for you to hide behind her.”

“Anghal?”

“Kakhskha.”

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down A Peg pt. 63

The duty officer for the derelict Highport above Thueknorrurr spoke to Capt. Kakhskha. He was a light brown Vargr Lieutenant in the Ascendancy Pact Admiralty, the Navy of the polity. “Thanks for bringing us new recruits, Capt. Kakskha. However you and your Seruean ship might want to clear out. We are overdue for a quarterly inspection by the Admiralty.”

“We’re also registered out of Roethoeegaeaegz, Lieutenant,” Kakhskha tried to reassure the officer. “We’re not squatters or looters. We even delivered the Hummingsand for your lads’ bunks.”

“Technically, the station and the world below are still listed under Martial Law even though there’s nobody here to uphold it. The jump flash was spotted last night. The quarterly patrol fleet will, by standard operation procedures, skim for fuel and then dock here at the station to patrol it and clear out any unauthorized personnel. That includes your Gatherer unfortunately. I appreciate all you’ve brought us, the extra workforce, but you still aren’t cleared to stay. I’d give you about a day and twenty hours before the patrol fleet arrives.”

“I get you, Lieutenant. We’ll be gone then before that time."

This was a new problem for Kakhskha. Dead-Hex had already told her that Thueknorrurr was an ideal opportunity to begin his hack into the Darknet. She had left the Duelean to it when she and the others off-loaded the Frieght, the new Admiralty recruits, and explored the space station in the Gatherer’s Hazardous Environment Suits. The entire superstructure was still revealing modules, corridors, conduits and other areas with dead bodies, victims of the neurological gas attack and the genocidal hunt by the then Posthumous Privateers. As a favor to the Lieutenant, Kakhskha and Anghal had spent a day plotting on a station map where more of the dead victims had been found. Six years of orbital necropolis and the Admiralty still had yet to collect all the corpses. This was to say nothing of the metropolitan graveyard on the planet’s surface. The hated Corsairs had been thorough in the chemical weapon bombardment of the Starport and Startown below the station.

Lt. Anghal had pointed out where only Posthumous had been successful to any significance in looting what their Merchant fleet could carry away from Thueknorrurr. As the Chief Engineer and the Captain walked the silent enclosures and modules, they saw a visage of six years past as message boards replayed advertisements, notices and news reports from a time when the Battle of Ungkhou was still current affair for the station. The bulkheads, walls and clear polymer structures were occasionally punctuated with personal and portable weapons fire damage. Posthumous had been forced to enter the station and hunt down any locals that had luckily managed to get suited up to survive the deadly gas. These poor victims were still enclosed in their Vacc Suits. To Kakhskha, though she could see the disgust in Anghal’s eyes too, the suited prey suffered far more horror than those who had died by gas.

And now, Dead-Hex was supposedly collaborating with Prof. Zannun to code a special and harmless info-virus to include in the Duelean’s hack of the anonymous Darknet, the black underworld of the interstellar online community. This was the back alley of cyberspace shared between worlds every time a secured Mail canister arrived via starship and was unpacked for local world nets to receive updates, news, messages and everything else a computer network would need to disperse to populations. Zannun was to help program the Library files that Kakhskha, Ardell, Dead-Hex and the Professor wanted to include in the hack. Kakhskha had agreed finally to deliver only the minimum data in her report to satisfy Matron Sanghthaghlla Thazdhoth. But to Dead-Hex, the Pact female handed over a simple data-wafer of the accumulated discoveries concerning the projected social and psychological effect the threat of the Fienzhatshtiavl. Professor Zannun had helped Kakhskha compile and draft that part to be excluded from the report as well. It was his Scholarly assistance that aided Lt. Ardell in setting the record straight about the truth about Posthumous. Ardell meant to leak into the Darknet that the Corsairs were in truth Privateers of the Infinity League during the Battle of Ungkhou in 1099. Kakhskha did not believe it would make much difference six years later, but wanted her Marine friend to be able to set the record straight, even if through such illegal pathing and gain peace of mind at last. Dead-Hex, for his part, had already declared to Kakshkha that he meant to advertise and sell his ruby-red Rage Wafer. This made Kakhskha happier that the Duelean was not going to use it as a crutch against her upbringing, the culture of Roethoegaeaegz matriarchy. Having been a Traveller for this long, the Merchant had been out among the stars long enough to outgrow it and value males in roles not allowed them back home. This was another reason she was not homesick as Ardell had asked. She found she liked being able to trust male Vargr to do a female’s work. It was refreshing to be out from under the Recovery. Her friend, Ardell from Nouon, was still having growing pains from what Kakhskha had seen on the Bridge two days before.

But with less than 48 hours until the patrol fleet arrived at the Highport station, could Dead-Hex complete such a hack, to compile, encrypt, compress, embed, infect and upload the various reports and data? The Dieback nature of Thueknorrurr without government or law despite the small skeleton crew trying to keep the station running was ideal as the systems and networks still functioned optimally for a TL-10 facility and world. Though six years behind the times could be a hurdle, Kakhskha felt Dead-Hex could safely hide his info-virus throughout every public and private archive here. After departing, the Gatherer was to take a Mail shipment to the next world so as to innocently spread the hidden messages, reports and advertisement to “spread the word” as the Duelean had said. She knew that Utogagzae (Knoellighz 1327) another lawless and lower-tech backwater of the Ascendancy Pact would happily receive the Mail, whereupon the embedded hack would spread the dark news to those who could find the needed warnings and reports with but a simple search.

It was Dead-Hex’ explanation that eventually, perhaps within a year or so, the new Library data would precipitate from the Darknet and into the legitimate networks and make available to all sophonts the threat of the psychic phenomenon and ease the changes that would otherwise cause a series of land-grab wars in Riadr and Etlieejibia Subsectors. Then there was the various painful truths that had been unreleased over the Battle of Ungkhou that the Pact had never known beyond a shadow or whispers of Posthumous true, genocidal nature. Since the collated hack would do no damage to computers, systems, networks, the gathered information would be easily mistaken as new Library data and taken as legitimate entries in encyclopedia throughout Knoellighz Sector. Whether anyone believed the data they would find was anyone's guess. It would be up to the viewer and too late to delete from every network in the Sector. All this, the Pilot-Astrogator had hoped to deliver as his contribution to setting things right, between the Infinity League and the Ascendancy Pact, himself and Ardell and lastly between Dead-Hex and Kakhskha. She had given him the ultimatum, a challenge for her suitor, (which was a new thing to the matriarchy-raised female).