Emergency lighting flashed in panicked rhythm, filling the bowels of the dying luxury liner with red light. Her spine was breaking, the feedback loop between her primary reactor and grav stabilizer slowly but surely crushing the rest of the ship through gravimetric stress. Vark was far enough from engineering that zero gravity was the norm, but every so often the ship shook, each tremor accompanied by a brief reactivation of the artificial gravity and the tinkling crash of another piece of the ship’s primarily crystalline décor shattering. The screams were far off, either from people who were almost to the escape pods and just screaming for the hell of it, or from people who were behind him and pinned in by the expanding gravity well of the ship’s cataclysmic stabilizer failure.
Vark hadn’t wanted to do this. It was supposed to have been a simple job, easy money. Get on luxury cruise, enjoy the sights, maybe seduce some bored aristocrat with sufficiently advanced cosmetics, and then make one little pick-up at a pre-negotiated price to a goddamn academic. Then all of a sudden it’s not the academic at the meet anymore, it’s the academic ina muzzle, manacle, and clawsheaths along with some slicked up government man charging Vark with a laundry list of crimes- most which weren’t even accurate. Well, after that one thing had led to another and now everything was horrible. Vark didn’t like blowing up cruise liners, yet, invariably, that seemed to be a theme of his career. Sure, it looked pretty when you got to look at it from the outside and it looked great on the resume, but Vark hated the klaxons and the emergency lights. The worst thing of all, the thing he just couldn’t abide-
”Sir, I apologize for breaking your previous command for silence, but my programming requires to inform me that you are in grave danger.”
-was the goddamn AI telling him about everything that had just happened like it was trying to break the news that his goddamn dog had died after choking on his life’s fortune which was incidentally being audited by the Merchant’s Bureau for fraud.
The AI floated alongside Vark, a cyan hedron that somehow managed to seem obsequious without discernible features. ”There has been a critical failure in the artificial gravity-“
”I know,” Vark growled.
”Which has resulted in stress breaches throughout the ship-“
”I know.”
”Causing critical decompression on decks -“
”Skip it.”
”Damage has also caused radiation leakage and chemical flooding -“
”I KNOW!”
”There are still remaining escape pods in sec-“
”I KNOW,” Vark shouted at the hedron, finally whirling on the AI and jabbing an accusatory finger through its closest side. ”This is my party. I am the architect of this disaster. I know about the fires, I know about the breaches, I know about the looters who are stealing everything that isn’t nailed down, I know about the Rekkanni war vet who is having flashbacks and shooting everyone he sees on the lido deck. In light of that fact, why the fuck are you still talking to me?”
“Please, sir, I am trying to impress upon you the gravity of the situation so that you will flee to an escape pod,” the AI pleaded.
Vark breathed in deeply through his nose. The flashing lights had given him a headache, and that was never good for his temper. ”Got a job to do first. However, since you know that I know everything you have to offer, is there any additional pertinent information you want to update me on, or just reruns?”
The hedron trembled for a few moments, its surface rippling as it wracked its artificial mind for something the convince Vark that he needed to escape immediately.
”Hmm? No? Then shu-“
”The panther has escaped,” the hedron interjected suddenly, a fragment of desperate hope in its imploring tone.
Vark opened his mouth to reply with something caustic, then shut it again. ”There was a panther?”
The hedron rippled, a pleased note of pride. ”Indeed there was. It was part of the play ‘A Wife for Saieera’, lending an unprecedented level of biological authenticity to the performance. Just one more way that the Fable cruise lines makes your stay unforgettable.”
“I think your appalling lack of safety interlocks on your gravimetric stabilizer is what will make most people remember this cruise,” Vark shot back, considering. He actually remembered that play. It had been good, and weird to see it done without holographics. It also meant the AI had scored a point on him. He sighed and dropped his hand, continuing toward the VIP dock. ”Fine, you have a useful purpose. Regale me again with tales about how the water pressure differential is causing the toilets on deck 8C to eviscerate people, that was amusing.”
---
The hedron wasn't the worst company as long as Vark kept it on the subject of describing the ship's destruction in intricate detail. Navigating the ship, even with clamping boots, was slow going in the alternating grav field. Soon, when the time between pulses was smaller than the time between firings for the reactor's injector, the field collapse would get to a critical state, Vark didn't plan to be around for that. Being rapidly reduced to a pancake against the floor and then blown through space by an overloading reactor might be a quick way to day, but it wasn't exactly a glorious one. Best to hurry then.
The VIP hangar, at the nose of the ship, had been spared much of the damage. All the ships were locked in place, and good loading practices meant that most of the crates were kept so that gravity flux didn't scatter them to the winds. At the far end, in a section reserved specifically for vessels that would need to leave at a moment's notice, was a group of four individuals, two in armor, one in manacles. The two in armor, one Cane and one Fin in a walker, were both bringing arms to bear on one of the three port locks holding their vessel in place. Scorch and slag on the remains of the first lock bore mute testimony to the slow efficacy of their brute force approach. Of the two unarmored, one was the academic, and the other was the bloody government lackey who'd confiscated the package Vark had been supposed to pick. Not that the latter two were terribly important at the moment.
Unnoticed, Vark focused on the spot beside the Fin. Good to take the heavy out first. He had all the time in the world, and if he was patient he could line up two heads with one shot. Just had to wait for the jump solution to-
"Please, distinguished guests! If malfunctions have mired your vessel I would recommend taking on of the functional escape pods located at the perimeters of each residential deck!
The four lackeys turned in unison to look at Vark and the hedron, surprise painted on their faces.
Vark turned to glare murder at the Hedron. "Is there a particular reason you had to shout, instead of, you know, GOING OVER THERE AND TALKING?"
The hedron didn't get a chance to reply, the blazing crackle of some form of beam weapon cutting a blinding path a foot to the left of Vark's head drowning out all other sound.
Vark cursed. The jump solution wasn't complete. It wasn't great timing. The enemy was aware of him. All valid reasons to run away and live to fight another day.
Not that that was Vark's style. He jumped, a burning tear opening in the fabric of space in front of him, and in a single blurring motion he projected himself to within kissing distance of the energy cannon armed Fin.
The Fin reacted quickly to Vark's sudden appearance within its minimum range, spinning to try and slam him with its armored tonnage.
Vark rolled to the side, slapping the mech under the chin before disengaging his clamping boots in order to push off from the ground freely. He didn't stay there for long, kicking the armored fin the head. The fin probably didn't feel it, but the action reengaged the clamps, anchoring Vark to the top of the Finwalker.
The same military training that let the Fin react to him immediately meant that the Hound was already leaping for him, disengaging its own anchoring footgear in order to make an impossibly long zero-g leap directly at Vark, teeth bared and weapons blazing.
Bullets slammed into Varks armor, but he stepped into the salvo and punched, a knife flashing into his hand. Canes were strong, fast, and regrettably predictable. Vark's knife wielding hand vanished between the Cane's biting jaws, the momentum from the punch driving it in up to the elbow. Vark disengaged the clamps again, letting the Cane's momentum carry him off into the air instead of trying to absorb the impact.
The government official, somewhat slower than his companions, pulled short pistol out of his coat, firing wildly at Vark, his eyes wide with shock and fear.
The bullets either missed or struck the Cane that was attached to Vark's arm like a gory shield. Vark snorted, twisting his weight to through the dying hound at the fool. From there, everything would be handled. Or, it would have been if gravity hadn't taken that moment to pulse back on. Vark slammed back into the floor of the hangar, the impact twisting the arm still trapped inside the dying neodog until something cracked inside. Vark cursed and cried out, twisting his body so he could at least face the finwalker. It loomed over him, the pilot's energy cannon pointed directly at Vark's head. A bit overkill.
A moment before the last light Vark expected he'd ever see blossomed from the barrel, the government official motioned for the Fin to hold back. "You... barbarian! Thief and usurper!" The man spoke in a spitting roar, red faced exagerated, his pistol deviating significantly from target as he spoke. "You have one chance, but one, to live long enough to face trial. Tell us who hired you, and I guarantee you'll at least live long enough to make your final arrangements."
Vark was momentarily taken aback by the sheer audacity of the question. The offer was almost certainly a lie, but it wasn't every day that someone was stupid enough to actually bother stopping a gunfight to have a conversation. God save soft handed politicos with more balls than sense. Granted, there were two things that could happen from here, and it was only possible to prepare for one. Well, Vark thought, that was life. He let out an exaggerated pained groan and triggered a new set of Bore calculations. "Please, I'll tell you anything... There's so much I haven't seen, so much I have yet to do. I mean... the Anturian wheelbarrow, the Kando mantis, so many positions I haven't fucked your mother in yet, to say nothing of your sist-
"Kill the cur."
The Fin opened fire, a pillar of roaring light streaking forward at the same time Vark triggered the bore he'd been preparing. It was a short jump, a couple feet and a thirty degree angle change. The beam entered the bore, and it roared to life from the aperture that Vark had pointed at the politico's chest. His hasty aim wasn't perfect, and the beam ended up striking the official in the shoulder. Judging by the popping sounds of boiling marrow and frying blood, death was still pretty instant. Even though he couldn't see the Fin's face, Vark could almost feel the pilot's horror. "Buh-bye," Vark said, winking at the mech and pressing his thumb forcibly to the inside of his ringfinger, activating the tiny shaped charge he'd slapped on the mech's chin at the start of the fight.
The pilot didn't have the opportunity understand what was happening, much less eject, before the charge blew a thumb sized plum of fire, molten metal, and burning biological debris out the top of the finwalker's head. The mech crashed ponderously to the ground, leaving Vark alone with the shackled academic, the still twitching hound, two dead bodies, and a very concerned AI.
"Sir," the hedron began, its tone indicating it fully understood the reply it was going to get. "I regret to inform you that there has been a murder."
Vark rolled his eyes and began wriggling his injured arm from out of the mess of the Cane's innards. "No shit, that's news to me. Here I thought there had been three murders, but I must have been mistaken. Thanks for the bloody clarification." Vark grunted as his arm finally slid out of the Cane's throat, taking the opportunity to kill the hound properly before cradling his injured limb. That would be a pain until he could get it fixed, but there was nothing for it. He turned to the academic. "You, the relic on the ship?"
The man nodded mutely, his eyes wide and his clothing partly coated with the ashes from what used to the left half of his captor.
Well that was the first good news of the day. It would have been just the cherry on current events if he'd accidentally melted the artifact along with the buffoon. Vark shouldered his way past the scientist and headed to the locked in ship.
"Hey!" the academic called from behind, still intelligibly despite the muzzle. "Please, take me with you!
Vark turned and arched an eyebrow. "Go and ask the AI about the escape pods, he'll be keen to tell you all about them."
"Accelerated field expansion indicates that there is no longer time to reach the escape pods," the hedron interjected morosely.
"Well, you could try running really fast," Vark suggested with a shrug, ignoring the dawning look of horror on the scientist's face.
"You can't just leave me her-"
The academic was interrupted by a low growling sound, which, while an accurate depiction of how Vark felt, was not born of his throat. Padding softly, looking somewhat bedraggled and rather confused, was a large black panther. It showed no fear at the ozone smell of energy weapons fire, and its growl seemed more curious than upset.
"Huh, not something you see everyday. You didn't tell me it was this close," Vark said, casting an askance glance at the hedron and swapping his knife to his undamaged arm.
"I tried, but you were rather insistent on having me recount the fate of the guests who were staying in the zero gravity recreation center at the time of the incident."
Vark wasn't too fond of the AI, but he really couldn't blame it for that one. Still, the panther didn't seem aggressive, and he rather liked the look of the poor beast. It was hardly here by choice, and it probably didn't deserve to die. He wondered if he could take it with him. It was, after all, a performing animal, and probably chipped or modded for docility and obedience. Vark slipped the knife back into his armor, kneeling down and clicking his fingers together. "You want to come with me? Can't imagine you're going to like what's about to happen, and I don't imagine you've liked your place in the troupe- getting molested by some washed up Felid actor pretending to be drunk for the crowd. C'mere, kitten, I'll give you a place to stay. "
The panther, as domestic as expected, padded up towards Vark, still growling deeply. It let Vark scratch behind its ears, looking at him with a confused sort of dependence in its eyes.
"Wha- what? You're taking the cat but you won't take me? Please, I'm begging you!"
Vark nodded, scratching his new panther under the chin. "Of course you can come, I need something to feed this adorable little girl. I'm pretty sure that's not technically cannibalism since you're different species, right?" Vark didn't wait for an answer to the question, shrugging to himself and walking toward the port locked ship. "AI, do you have access to the docking controls?"
The hedron pulsed fitfully as the luxury liner shuddered under another gravitational wave. "Yes, but sir, I regret to inform you that this hangar is under lockdown due to a contamination claim by docking authority. Without the command code or a manual override from port authority I cannot lif-"
"I told you. I am the architect of this cataclysm. Lift the lockdown, authorization Varkonius Markuli Davar. I have some explaining due my clients."
The briefing room of the HMS Merciful Reunion was sparsely occupied by those members of her crew that had deemed a live connection to the client a worthwhile event. For the most part, the converted theater was unoccupied, its several hundred person capacity now host to a maximum of six and whatever concessions they chose to bring in with them. The speaker on the stage, magnified to a thirty foot tall talking head, was a Cane vizier of the Tiamen Federation and greatly resembled a fuzzy potato with excellent grooming habits. High gravity worlds tended to create his particular blend of squashed features and stout anatomy, but his rank, power, and (most importantly) his pocket book, were all well worth notice. The pay offered for the job was substantial, enough to re-up the Reunion's reactor for the next year and still have money to burn on sundries. Granted, it also had the potential to pay absolutely nothing if they couldn't beat every other crew the Tiamen had hired to go after Varkonius and his artifact.
Someone who bothered to take notes at the briefing would probably have been furiously underlining the name AL-Loy, and, in Khate's case, drawing tiny skulls next to it. AL-Loy is a big name, with tendrils in pretty much every enterprise and a substantial share of Apex tech. They're essentially an empire unto themselves, owning solar systems outright and 'keeping the peace' in their domain through a mixture of embargoes, blockades, and, when needed, very public war. One particular notable example is the entertainment program "Goliath Falls", which is a reality show shot entirely by spybots, and it follows the lives and families of fighter pilots in the service of a rebelling client empire that is currently engaged in a bitter (and losing) battle with the AL-Loy trading group.
If someone had the inclination to run a search on Varkonius (with the appropriate filters and specifiers need to get a semi-accurate result) they'd probably be directed quickly to both a host of news bulletins and the human's own contact page, complete with resume, past jobs, and example rates. The news bulletins indicate omnicide as a fundamental part of the man's character, with multiple events ending in the absolute destruction of the building complex, starship, and, in one case, space station he'd been sent to. His resume lists him as an expert engineer, with a (now revoked due to terrorist actions on his home world) license in type III reactor mechanics and a first class education in metafield sciences. It also lists a shockingly long list of people he's killed and things he's blown up.
Author
Topic: Small Mercies (IC) | Death is knocking, and he wants to buy a goat. (Read 53159 times)