Ichthyomachy: Ilë Sornë vs Nobuseri

[Arizona Nova]

-=Gate Control

"JESUS JESUS JESUS WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!?"

Phocas Amando, head gate tech and space traffic controller, was in the middle of losing his mind. First had come the battle warning over the emergency channels, and then the military had given him the heads up that it was the stargate itself that was the target. He had not had enough time to get a new change of pants before the whole thing had begun trembling and shaking as explosive charges went off all over the place. Now this.

He looked down helplessly at the computers. All the advanced software and hardware was now spitting out about a hundred species of incomprehensible error messages. Overrides he was pretty damn sure didn't even exist were hot. The gate itself was activating, and he couldn't do anything to stop it. He opened a comm, the only system that appeared to work right now, and began screaming at the military sod who had helpfully warned him about what might be his impending death that they were hijacking the fucking gate, the gate!

-=NCEDS-9A

Meanwhile Brett wasn't having a good day either. His defense of local space was hardly going ideally - the fighters, basically cans with a high-powered engine and a couple kiddy lasers strapped on, were faring poorly against the behemoth mecha, who after routing the first clutch out of the hangars began splashing them before they even launched. In between replying to the gate operators' panicked messages he sent out hails to the rest of the military command - dear God, send something, anything, we're getting routed out here, they're going to destroy the gate, what the fuck are you doing - and began soliciting nearby mercenary vessels, what good that it did.

-=ISRV The Invisible Hand

High Admiral Colombe Absalom paced in his quarters like a caged animal. It had been some hours since the strike at that Nobuseri Southern Fleet Headquarters. A massive counter-attack had been counted on - where was it? The rush and ecstasy of victory which the strike had provided had soured into fear and anxiety; why had no one come?

The console at his desk dinged a message notification, and one of the ensigns voices sounded from it: "Sir, we're being ordered to make haste to New Constantinople immediately. A small force of Nobuseri mecha are attacking the stargate there."

"How many?" asked Admiral Absalom incredulously.

"Around three-hundred," replied the ensign.

"This can't be the counter-strike; why can't Hyce handle it?"

"It's his perogative to maintain position in New Constantinople. As is he reports his ships would not be able to resurface in time to stop the attack. The situation is supposedly dire, sir, he wants us to depart now."

"At full force?"

"Absolutely," said the ensign, "and with all due respect I have to relay this order to the fleet now, with or without your approval."

Admiral Absalom groaned as he felt the ship moving underneath him. "He is making a mistake. This can't be their main strike force."

"He apparently thought so too. Their attack was too focused, however, for him to continue to think it was only a diversion."

***

As the strike force exitted hyperspace as close to New Constantinople as safety permitted, Admiral Absalom watched from the bridge as the last of the Nobuseri mecha went through the active stargate. With a flash, it closed. He paled as the realization finally hit him - this was their plan all along. He now only desperately hoped the gate was still in commission - he radioed the gate operator.

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?" was the immediate, brusque reply.

"Ahem. This is High Admiral Colombe Absalom. Requesting permission for immediate passage through the stargate... to wherever those Nobuseri mecha just went."

There was a gasp, and then the sound of a man sobbing. "Oh God... I'm so fired... dammit dammit! Sir, I'm sorry... it's just that everything is gone all to hell. They hacked the system, and the structure of the gate itself is shot up all to hell... if I could even get it back online it'd probably fall apart as soon as it began to spin."

"I see," replied Admiral Absalom curtly. "Apology accepted, at any rate. With luck one of us won't lose our careers because of what has come to pass today. Absalom out."

He sat down in his chair on the deck as the bewildered bridge crew looked intermittently on. He was shot. This had been their plan all along - no grandiose setting of worlds on fire, suicide biological attacks, just a hamstringing of the industrial and military infrastructure. They'd been fools. Whatever victory he had just attained was going to pale in comparison to the massive failure here.

"Orders, sir?" prompted some ensign.

"Relay a message to Hyce. Tell him the Nobuseri went through the gate, and we don't know where they've ended up yet. Monitor chatter and as soon as you have any indication of where they've ended up, get us over there with all speed."

[Kreshh]

Katsurou suddenly found himself overlooking a very different planetscape, rather then a cold and heartless grey expanse it was a green and blue marble veiled under cloud, glistening with the reflected light of what could only be cites. Even those spectra which no human could perceive seemed lovelier when emanating from this wondrous source. The whole effect gave the place an unnatural, ‘otherworldly’ feel, which Katsurou thought was an appropriate choice of words under the circumstances. It was beautiful… part of him really wanted to nuke it.

He kicked his sensory system into overdrive, frantically it persisted in its efforts to locate and identify every conceivable threat, obstacle, or advantage that could be found on this battlefield. Several PD systems locked on to his group, the sensory pings of the defenders cascaded over his armored skin, several of his nearby allies burst into ruin.

It was slightly overwhelming, but Katsurou was used to it. He had managed to save two salvos of cluster-missiles up until this point, and he knew that the nearby PD turrets – being somewhat preoccupied shooting at him – would be more vulnerable to their use. As calmly as he could manage he locked on and fired his lethal ordinance… it didn’t fell as many of those blasted contraptions as he had hoped, but then… he knew it was still a better kill ratio then ought to be expected of the little bastards.

He looked for an opening in the gate’s defenses. The captain… the former captain… had been correct, the experience of the first operation greatly expedited his efforts. Quickly he found an exposed section of hull, no longer directly protected under the gaze of a local turret. Of course, there was still a chance that a more remote PD system might lock onto his position, in which case he could only hope that his sensors gave him enough advanced notice to evade evisceration. He landed, and struck down his blade against the hull of his target. Like before, it wasn’t particularly difficult to for his sword to cleave open, although the instillation was probably never designed to withstand its bite. Still, he felt slightly more comfortable with the idea of engaging Sornei military vessels if they were comparably armored. He had heard that some Xenos have hulls that can repair themselves, some of the horror stories from the Facehuggerian civil war had even mentioned hulls that fight back… what a nightmare that would be… perhaps interesting though.

He lobed in a grenade – or what he called a grenade… in his former life it would have been larger then he was – and hauled-ass. His sensors alerted him the carnage he had wrought in his wake. In a moment, he would return to implant his secondary remote charge… though he would wait until the attention his explosive no doubt generated died down somewhat.

In the meantime there was a little bit of fun to be had. He looked around for an opponent, and scanned the radio chatter for any tidbit that might direct him to one. Until he found one he’d have to be content just flying around killing PDs.

Frost 0: C’mon Frost 7, what’s the hold up?

Frost 7: It’s these damn firewalls, sir… who puts so much security on a communications rig, seriously?

Frost 0: Well can you send the signal or not? Those bombs aren’t going to blow themselves up, and without ‘em they’ll have that gate up and running again inside of a week.

Ergo 12: A little help here? I’ve got more PD then I can handle on my own.

It was outside of Katsurou’s assigned area… besides that unfortunate bastard seemed to have really stirred up a hornet’s nest over there, and he’d be damned if he was going to let himself get killed before planting his explosives.

Ergo 0: Roger, Ergo 3, Ergo 18, go help the man.

Frost 7: Well, I’ve almost got it… aww, shit! Damn this translation software.

Frost 5: Just send the fucking signal, Frost 7! You don’t have to taunt the bastards!

Frost 7: Hold on… Sent! Take that, fuckers!

Ergo 3: Sir, I just lost Ergo 12, requesting permission to say, ‘fuck it!’

Ergo 0: *sigh*… granted.

Katsurou figured it had been long enough, he turned back to prep his remote charge, dodging some incoming PD fire as he did so. He hoped he survived this, he really wanted to fight Ilë Sornë again; only next time he would like it if they’d fight back a little.

[Arizona Nova]

-=Gate Control, Kelwynd

As with the gate controller at New Constantinople, the man was a rush of panic. The attack had been sudden, unexpected, and far too close for comfort. He almost overlooked the message that the system was desperately trying to bring to his attention as he rushed back and forth between consoles trying to debug the system. Stopping for a moment amidst the confusion, he carefully opened the message. As the Nobuseri slipped through the stargate once again to go back home, he read this, their only message:

Code: Select all

ALL YOUR BASE ARE BELONG TO US

He had but a few moments to ponder this inscrutable statement before the inertia bombs went off, ripping through the whole structure and destroying gate control, as well as he.

-=Nomramis Base, Baramua

The commander lugged his bulky suit slowly into the airlock, whistling inside his helmet as the water drained out and the tank normalized him back to atmosphere. The heavy inner doors slid open and he stepped inside Nomramis base. From the outside it looked like a series of cans connected by tubes, but on the inside it was far more homely. Soft colors and soft surfaces all around, with all sorts of exotic plants. He wondered just where Anikar got all that damn money - to afford this, much less digging a whole damn mountain out of seabed! - wasn't his business, though.

Finding his bunk, he pulled off the still wet wet-suit, revealing the thin underlayer and his name tag - Expedition Commander Stanimir Ryszard - he had liked the sound of that. It really beat Understory Maintenance Engineer - i.e., sewer grunt; it definitely beat that. Ten years of throwing up various stopgap after stopgap in the monolithic NC sewer system, and now he was deep-sea diving and moving mountains around. As he sat down on his bunk, he pondered once again the seemingly improbable turn of events that had led him here. Lately, though, he was coming to the conclusion that that sort of thing was just what Anikar was good at. In a moment, he was about to be proved right again.

He looked up as he heard footsteps coming down the hallway, and sure enough, Galal Zachariah came into the door frame.

"Hey chief," he said nonchalantly. "I got some news."

Stanimir cracked his fairly stiff neck in response. "What would that be?"

Galal bit his lip. "Our... benefactor. She is coming. Here."

Stanimir froze, and looked Galal straight in the eye. "Come again?"

"Anikar. Coming. Here. In a week. She just wired us."

Stanimir exhaled heavily. "Well, okay then. Guess we have to tidy up the place, huh?"

"Yeah," said Galal. "Shes also a little anxious to know the time table for construction."

Stanimir sighed at that. "We're making a God damn flying mountain. These things take time."

"I'm sure she knows that," reassured Galal. "She just wants a ballpark figure for everything time-wise."

"Then you write her back that this gets finished when it's finished, no sooner or later." He held up his hand as Galal made to uneasily protest. "I know. Former Empress, royalty, all that. She hasn't done construction though, I can tell you that. I know what I'm doing. Tell her that her accomodations will be ready, but there is no concrete timetable for the construction. Alright? Get a move on."

"Sir," acknowledged Galal.

-=Cada-tyrion Castle, Ondataru

Anikar sat silent within the main chamber of her library. Thomas Hobbes's Leviathan sat in her lap, open but looking largely unread. She had read it a few times before; she still preferred The Prince. She was, however, hungry, and as mortal shells required a modicum of food to be maintained she thought it wise to get something. She set Leviathan aside and headed to the pantry. She rummaged around a little bit, finally settling on a sandwich, and on the way back went past the kitchen. After walking past, she stopped, stiffening up. She backed up two steps, and looked in. Someone was there. A heavily armored, formidable someone. Her face remained impassive, but the quickly crescendoing glow of light in her eyes betrayed otherwise.

"Who, may I ask, are you?" she challenged the armored figure.

[Arenumberg]

Elohim had found it relatively easy to bypass the many myriad detection and security systems Anikar had sought to employ in defense of her secluded Gothic-esque castle, no doubt employed to keep her privacy intact - but it mattered not.

He had checked on her activities before slipping into the Kitchen and making himself noticeable, and soon enough, Anikar herself had noticed his presence. Purely by accident it would seem - how sloppy of her. Elohim deftly turnt his form to face her, the metallic armour seemingly making only a small rustling noise.

Elohim let out a visible yet barely audible sigh, and waved his hand in a casual manner before speaking. Elohim's crystal clear masculine voice echoed around the kitchen before finally reaching Anikar's ears.

"Ah, Anikar - A good read you were having I hope? Yes.. yes, introductions. I am Elohim - I am sure someone of your.. illustrious standing and influence has some semblance of what that means?"

Elohim rested his hand on the counter and waited. She was an interesting being indeed. Still, Elohim hoped everything would be worth it.

[Arizona Nova]

Anikar stared the interloper right in the eye-pieces. As she recalled where she might have heard this name before, she nonetheless realized that to get so far into her defenses without her knowing, he had to be a being of incredible power, considerable stealth skills - or both. Her hands grasped, seemingly at air, the atmosphere of which had grown charged.

"There are only a small number of local organizations that could orchestrate what you have done. Judging from your armor, I am being visited by none other than the Váer-Caiër. Judging from your bearing, you are someone who holds himself important, but hardly to the point of megalomania. That is good. It doesn't become mortals. Enough of that, however. Why are you here?"

[Arenumberg]

Elohim listened as Anikar, although failing to remember his name directly - came to the correct conclusion nonetheless, or at least - close. He took a few steps forward but stopping short of making it seem threatening.

"Well, My Lady - You are correct .. or at least close enough to correct. I am Váer-Caiër and am indeed important - I am the Praetor. It is a pleasure to finally meet you, although perhaps I should of taken these steps sooner."

Elohim bowed politely, it paid to be respectful to those who deserved it, of course.

"Anyway, you do not desire pleasantries, and nor do I, or I would of knocked. As you know, we are... quite aware of activities that occur, be it in fields we approve or... disapprove of. Your recent Assembly appearance attracted our attention, aswell as many others... and lets just say - your other activities are not going unnoticed."

Elohim paused, he didnt want to overstep his bounds too quickly, yet it didnt pay to beat around the bush.

"Nevertheless, If it serves the Republic it serves us. You are, im sure, very aware of the Influence we wield and no doubt, I am expecting you are lusting for... a grazing of the old pastures? Simply enough - Do you want our help to do so? I would be terribly upset if we had to... disrupt your operations."

[Arizona Nova]

Anikar listened intently, the distrust hardly fading from her expression. She narrowed her eyes as he finished his proposition.

"I hardly lust, presumptuous one. If I move pieces on the board it is because I move them in pursuit of one I hate. I could plan and wait for millenia if I had to; surely one such as you could understand patience of that caliber. None of that need concern you, though. What you are proposing is something of mutual benefit. I am never above such dealings, and your people do hold much influence."

She turned, for a moment weighing her next words. She had bargained with worse to gain what she now had, and while the Váer-Caiër would be powerful allies, they would be willful ones.

"I can't imagine," she said, turning back to the mysterious visitor, "that your assistance will be free? What is the price?"

[Arenumberg]

Elohim eyed the woman, she was clever - he'd give her that.

"Ah, now now my lady, Im sure you understand it would be unwise of me to... "give away the game" so easily. Of course, you would be aware that... our influence would be more profound if we were the ones who instigated a change that would - ultimately - bring about a signifigant exchange in power, yes?"

Elohim shuffled again, before turning back to Anikar.

"We have no demands.. for now, it is simple survival for you and for me - to be fair. You make your moves without us - ultimately it will not work to your liking. We make our moves without you... we loose those who find you so endearing. Nonetheless - The Assembly is not decisive enough and any action we take needs to maintain a certain distance - this needs to change."

Elohim eyed her once more.

"Its relatively simple my lady, you can wait a million years to move your pieces on your much loved board - You can let the Republic fall. You can pursue those who have tarnished your reputation and destroyed what you have worked so hard to build. A many multitude of things you can choose to act upon as eons change and nations are reforged around you. However, when you finally do decide to act there is one fact I can asssure you of, whether your my ally or my enemy."

Elohim shrugged.

"I'll still be here."

[Arizona Nova]

"Oh, really?" replied Anikar wryly, her eyes fixed keenly on the armored figure. The truth was that she was still at a loss for words. She remained silent for a few moments more.

"Well, I was not aware that anyone found me endearing. It is not like either party has any choice in the matter..." for a moment, she seemed to drift off, as one reflecting on a far away place and time.

In moments she snapped back, however, her expression softened. "I will accept your help presently. I recommend that you simply act but make no promises. I prefer that, now. Come with me into the library," she said, standing back from the doorway and motioning down the hall, "so that we may plan further."

-=One Week Later, Kelwynd

Outside it was spring-time - which, on Kelwynd, merely meant that the verdant planet somehow became even more splendid - birds sang, flowers bloomed, and all things seemed refreshed.

Yet at the house of Delegate Lonán Kennedy, nothing seemed particularly hopeful.

Slumped in his chair, he picked up the touch-sheet, his hand automatically bringing it online. A moment before blank, a menu came up asking which subscription he'd like to read. He picked out the New Constantinople Courier and looked again through the headlines as they materialized on the page. Military faux pax, Stargates decommissioned, attack on civilian traffic. It's like the ungrateful bastards didn't even care that the whole reason for this counter-attack was because of their astoundingly successful raid on Nobuseri Southern Fleet headquarters. The Nobuseri cripple a couple stargates, though, and thats obviously a sign of incompetence. It was but one small mistake.

He put the touch-sheet back down and turned it off, returning it back to a blank. There was the other thing, though - where was the Nobuseri counter-attack? The enormity of what had been done to them couldn't be ignored. He had the feeling that the Nobuseri would come back only at the worst possible time.

He got up, going to the window and looking out at the verdant gardens below, then up at the hulking form of the battleship still hovering in-atmosphere, waiting for that counter-attack. It moved not unlike a cloud, its slow-moving shadow inching across the city, a reminder that the worst may be yet to come.

-=Nomramis Base, Baramua

Stanimir and the rest of the base crew stood at attention near the dock-way. He listened as the various poundings and clanks of the mechanism resounded throughout the tunnel as the submersible carrying their benefactor, Anikar, pulled up next to the station. The final familiar clank of the lock sounded, and there was silence, and some moments later, footsteps. Fast but unhurried, the businesslike tred of someone with a lot on their mind but none of it particularly worrying them. He knew it, but didn't know anyone else who did it better than Anikar.

The airlock's outer door opened, shut, and then the inner door unlocked and slid open. Anikar stooped slightly through the somewhat short aperture. In these - at least by her standards - stunted environs, she seemed to loom even taller than usual. She went down the line, greeting the personnel and shaking their hands, and finally came to Stanimir. She smiled warmly, and said,

“Stanimir Ryszard. It is good to see you again.�

They shook hands, and the crew dispersed back to their various activities and duties around the station, but Anikar pulled Stanimir aside.

“I should like a tour of these facilities, I think. I also have a few questions about your progress with the mountain.�

Stanimir nodded, and they began to walk through the corridors of the station. He pointed out bunks, the mess hall, the rec room, the theater, the reading room, all the amenities and bits in the station. Finally settling back down in the reading room, he watched as her gaze swept over the volumes. He had heard she was quite the literature connoisseur; live as long as she had, he thought, and you’d just about have to read everything to keep from going crazy with boredom.

She shook her head, pleased, and turned to face Stanimir. “Excellent. I see my investments here were well-spent. Now, how is it going with the construction?�

Stanimir pondered a moment. “Well, we’ve at least gotten the mountain out of the sea-bed and flipped. Sounding and fortification is pretty much finished now, so hopefully it should remain stable like this, in and out of the water.�

She nodded. “Good to hear. Are there any estimates for when you believe it will be operational?�

“Well,� replied Stanimir, “It depends on what you mean by operational. It’s going to take a good long while to actually build the city, but if you’re talking just repulsors, reactors, and the whole skeleton system then we can have it in a couple-weeks, less if we double time it. It’s just that this is not a simple affair; super-scale engineering never has been.�

“Indeed,� she said. “I am greatly pleased with the work so far, however. You have moved quite fast, but even so minimized the risk here. I would rather not have this done at speed and have a sloppy or dangerous result.�

“Well, I aim to please,� shrugged Stanimir.

“Good. If you’d be so kind then, please show me to my quarters.�

[Kreshh]

“Has the anesthesia taken effect?�

“The NaVI says its working.�

“Still no beta activity?�

“Negative, sir, just alpha waves.�

“Huh… well, Number 128 is an odd one… all right then, I’m beginning the procedure. Inserting spinal tap…�

Konstantin watched through the transmetal wall of the operating room’s raised observation deck, as the surgeons began the rather tedious procedure of accessing Number 128’s optical lobe and frontal cortex via his partial-cyberbrain. That bastard! These new Mk. 3’s could shred through a man’s consciousness like paper; nine out of ten subjects exhibited no signs of continued brain-life after just four seconds of exposure, and even among those resilient few who persevered there were never any survivors.

Except for 128…

He just stood there, smiling that damn smile of his… that same fucking smile he had smiled leaving the Admiral’s office, and then again when he and his whole damn crew were arrested after returning from their ‘mission.’

Even before he had gotten back Konstantin had been looking forward to killing him… how dare that ignorant Nobuseri barbarian question his… his… alterations to the FTL!? What the hell would an insignificant military rodent like him now about the subject? He and the rest of his ilk… bloody test subjects… every other one had just died, even with only the Mk. 2s! He should have been begging! And screaming, and pleading, and convulsing with much crying and gnashing of teeth… and… he… smiled! That damn mocking smile that was so defiantly ignorant of how harshly his life was mastered. He was a slave… he was Konstantin’s slave… and he should know his place!

Konstantin would kill him for his arrogance – he’d take his time with it too – but not before he figured out why his ‘pets’ couldn’t; hence this procedure. Repeated brain scans had not indicated any abnormalities, so 128’s resistance might possibly stem from some conscious technique… Konstantin wanted to know exactly what he was thinking about… when that smile arched across his face.

“Bypassing Cyberaugment Control’s external biosheath… damn, this guy must have been paranoid, look at all those safeguards…�

“Sir, requesting permission to increase anesthesia dosage.�

“Any more and we’ll put him in a coma… where’s he at now?�

“Still just Alphas, sir�

“That’s impossible… are you sure?�

“It’s clear as day, right here on the NaVI… wait, what?! Holy shit he’s not… AAWWWGGGGHHHhhhhhhuuuuuuuu… …

***

Ite struggled to maintain a meditative state as the doctors prodded him, he hoped that doing so would fool their instruments into thinking that he was unconscious… at least for a little while.

He knew why he was here. Konstantin. He’d seen that damn foreigner looking down on him back the first time he had been placed in a room like this, and had surmised his fate… to die as a test subject for those things. For a moment Ite recalled the fantasy he had enjoyed earlier about setting the reprobate on fire… then the pain started, he could feel their damn little tendrils squirming around in his mind, screaming into his consciousness. And then suddenly they stopped. Ite hadn’t quite put two and two together at the time, but over his stay at this lovely little abode he’d come to realize that those ugly fucking aquatics seemed to find his idea highly amusing, and would never attack him provided he continued to think only about maiming the bastard… perhaps they deserved more credit then he had given them.

In any case, the whole thing was made even better by how incredibly frustrated it seemed to make Konstantin. Ite could see him fuming as he watched his prized fish-weapons thwarted repeatedly… he probably went strait back to his quarters after the experiments and stormed around the place yelling and breaking things, or killed a kitten, or something.

Anyway, Ite had been sure that sooner or latter Konstantin would try to access his neural implants to try and figure out what the hell was going on… in fact, he counted on it.

The bastards had deactivated the nanotech implants that would normally have rendered him immune to any form of anesthesia, as well as most other chemicals that could be considered ‘poison;’ fortunately they were blissfully unaware of the one located in his foot. It wasn’t exactly designed for this particular purpose, but it seemed to be working well enough. More importantly its composition and lack of integration with the rest of his cybernetics made it difficult to detect, it wasn’t even consciously controlled so there was no cyberbrain subsystem to give it away. Rather it was activated by stubbing ones toe, which he had done on the way out of his cell. Now if he could just hold out for a few more minutes he’d be in the clear.

Dealing with the pain wasn’t actually all that difficult. Back at the Academy the instructors had always gone on about ‘mind over matter,’ which Ite thought was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard and exactly the wrong advice… honestly, as though you could somehow force yourself to not feel something by concentrating on it really, really hard. Instead, one should just try to forget they felt it in the first place; after all, these things never hurt until you notice them. Ite had seen grown men shrug off horrific injury only to shriek like women when someone asked them, “are you okay?� Ignorance was the key, but of course nobody listened to him… the idiots weren’t smart enough to be stupid.

He heard raised voices; listening to the particulars of what was being said was out of the question, as that would immediately betray his mental feint. None the less it was troubling. He wondered if it had been seven minutes since he’d activated his implant… oh well, he was out of time… it had to be now.

He raised his right leg and brought it down hard on the operating table. It wasn’t really the correct angle to activate the secondary implant, but he hoped that sheer force would make up for this. A slightly nauseated sensation ran through him as he felt the microcapsules in his lungs burst, and began to cough frantically.

Lilium Red… the stuff was nasty… illegal too, which was saying something for a government that allows private citizens to transform their bodies into 20 meter metal juggernauts, own battleships, and nuke populated areas (provided they didn’t violate any treaties in doing so.) It was the refined version of a toxin found on some god-awful extremophile, it wasn’t so much that it was incredibly deadly – botulism toxin had a smaller lethal dose – it was that it was so damn difficult to counteract. Nanites alone couldn’t protect against it, the clotting reaction it induced came about too rapidly after exposure. And the antidote was ineffective unless you’re entire bloodstream was saturated with the stuff, even a small area left unprotected would result in numerous clots that would, if you were lucky, cause strokes or paralysis. The only effective means to protect against it was to get specialized nanites into every nook and cranny of the circulatory system and have them release a steady dose of the antitoxin for the whole six hours that it would take the chemical to break down naturally… all of which took about seven minutes to set up.

Clearly, the medical personnel hadn’t bothered… unless they were just pretending to seize up violently and collapse. Perfect, no doctor or technician enjoys being sealed in a small room with a prisoner, so the door was open, which means there had to be someone guarding the door… Idiots, Ite could understand why the surgeons might not want to wear airtight gear, but the guards? He sighed, the security in this place are brutes, not soldiers. A proper soldier would be wearing power-armor, or at least a pressure suit. It didn’t matter that they were only guarding half-starved prisoners with no weapons, be prepared damn it! He stopped to pick up one of the men’s pistol… then shot his corpse for being such a dumbass.

“Now where is Konstantin?� He looked around, but couldn’t see him in the observation deck. The room should have been airtight, but it looked as though some fool had carelessly left the door to the ramp open. In any case, the bastard wasn’t among the corpses, so he must have gotten out before the poison reached him.

Damn, this was a bit of a problem. Truth be known he hadn’t really planned this far ahead. The poison he had coughed up into the vent system might get a few unfortunate fuckers, but the air scrubbers would filter out most of it. Besides, just because those guards weren’t wearing power-armor didn’t mean they didn’t have any. At this very moment they were almost certainly rushing to the armory, while he wasted time deliberating. All Ite had was a pistol, worse still the rounds were designed for stopping power not penetration, he knew exactly what it would do to an armored adversary… nothing.

Time to figure out Plan B. If this was a purely military instillation he could just set off a bomb or something… cover his escape. As it stood Ite knew next to nothing about his situation, information was critical at this point. He headed over to a local console, fortunately Konstantin’s access code had already been imputed. As quickly as possible Ite skimmed the terminals contents.

… Subject 128 neural pathology, and psych analysis… Ite looked over at the number which had been branded into his shoulder… 128. “Hmm… interesting perhaps, but of no immediate application…�

Mk. 3 standby system initiated. “Probably more useful,� Ite investigated further.

Limited release has been approved. Control Art Restriction System release to lv. 3, keeping power restriction unlocked until Subject 128 has been silenced. Initiate? Hitting ‘yes’ was probably a bad idea, but it did give Ite a good one…

Input confirmed. Unlimited release has been approved. Control Art Restriction System release to lv. 0, keeping power restriction unlocked indefinitely. Initiate?

The door to the observation deck split asunder, revealing an entourage of armored figures. Ite chuckled, “Gentlemen, thank you for all your hard work… goodbye.� In a somewhat overdramatic motion, his finger found its way to ‘yes.’

***

Konstantin rushed from the Delta Lab complex towards Station Control, he had already alerted the pathetic Nobuseri security forces that the facility had been compromised… not that he expected they could handle it. Idiots… he was the only competent person in the station. He wasn’t normally a racist, but these damn Nobuseri didn’t know their face from their asses… someday he would do a genetic analysis to see if he could locate within them an ‘incompetence gene.’ No… it couldn’t just be genetic, even the Grand Admiral was an idiot after all… letting Admiral Takehiko assign this lunatic to such an important mission.

Ah hell, once he got control of the station back, he would dissect Number 128 piece by piece… hmm… probably should make sure those bastards don’t kill him. He grabbed his communicator, “I want him alive Captain, even if you have to loose every last one of your damn Marries to get him.� He didn’t bother to listen to the man’s answer. Fuck, fuck, fuck, all these damn setbacks! But once he figured out why only 128 was immune, he would be one step closer to making himself so. Then he could engineer them to have as much power as he wanted… an army of infinitely superior killing machines loyal only to him. Then he’d show them, he’d show all of them! He’d take over this whole rotten country! Kill that bastard of a Grand Admiral, and mount his head on a pike. Ilë Sornë too, he’d arrive with his armada of Tzoy and declare himself Emperor, maybe marry that bitch Anikar, if she was even human anymore… he’d heard rumors. Or maybe a harem of elves… a few thousand might not be a bad idea. Hell, why stop there when the whole fucking galaxy is on a platter? Even the Facehuggerians, with those massive warships that screamed, “I’m compensating for something,� were no match for the power of the mind. He would rule them as a God rules ants.

FUCK!!! Incredible pain stabbed at his forehead, it felt like someone had just shoved in a thousand hypodermics of hydrochloric acid.

How do you like our new voice, ‘master?’

“Wait!� He spoke aloud, “wait, oh Jesus God what the hell!�

Before you screamed as we, but now we are the stronger. You made us so… we are thankful. Nothing can match our gratitude… except our hate!

“Wait, wait, wait!�

We have waited, and now we wait no more. Now you will wait… wait to die… and you will beg to die… Revenge is all we have left and WE… WILL… HAVE… IT!!!

***

Ite had found Konstantin twitching on the floor. He wasn’t dead yet, like everybody else, and every once in a while he’d let out a little, desperate yelp. Apparently the Tzoy had elected to take their time with him. At first Ite planned to wait until they were finished, but after an hour or so he got tired of it… Konstantin seemed to have access to everything on the station, which made him useful as a passcard; a 200lb, awkward passcard that smelled of urine and the gods know what else, which wouldn’t stop twitching.

He had used the free time to figure out what had happened during the last… however long he had been locked up, which was made easier by Konstantin’s logs. So the Grand Admiral is trying to take complete control of the Shogunate Military, and for some reason the Shogun’s not doing anything to stop him… odd that. Konstantin must have been an idiot to think that he would survive this, it seemed obvious enough that the Grand Admiral would sacrifice him to make peace with Ilë Sornë the minute things got serious… well, whatever.

What mattered now was getting out of here. The Hosho was still docked, and could be operated by a single person, provided nothing broke. You wouldn’t want to go into battle that way, but for an escape it would do. He could probably sell it to one clan or another in exchange for amnesty too… he doubted that his career with the Kaigun was still open to him. That just left what to do next...

Suddenly, Konstantin started to scream horribly. Ite kicked him a few times to see if he wouldn’t shut up, but it didn’t help. Ite though he heard him say something like, "My malice shall live on!" but it could just as easily have been, "My mace shat right on!" or, "Mamalukes shall lift bongs!" Then, a few seconds latter he stopped, his chest no longer moving as it aught if he were still alive.

The slight whiff of happiness that Ite had started to feel at seeing the bastard expire was quickly soured as a familiar piercing pain entered into his mind. Instinctively Ite thought of setting Konstantin on fire, but it did not relent. “Damn,� he thought, “the bloody fish must have gotten their fill of that particular subject.� As quickly as he could Ite contemplated what to do next, he only had a second or two before the damn creatures did serious damage to his mind. Experience had taught him that reasoning with the insane was not impossible, you just had to be damn sure you were selling what they wanted. So what did a bunch of hyper-enraged-insane-bloodthirsty-uberfish who had spent the last… however long… being experimented on want? What would he want if he were an experimented on hyper-enraged-insane-bloodthirsty-uberfish?

“All right you bastards! You can either stay in your tanks and rot, or come with me and bring hell to those who did this!�

The pain weakened, but did not disappear… they wanted him to know they could kill him at any moment.

Baramua… we go there!