Once inside, Orion was impressed to see a flurry of activities. There were half a dozen people here dressed in oil-splattered jumpsuits, some of them wearing leather jackets. The Mining Tank was still there, a blue and yellow striped Hiver sticking halfway out of a hatch in the side. The third insectoid turret was standing under the mechanic, boosting him up to the hatch he was working on.
But there were ten more cars, either parked in the back or being worked on. Some were on the ground with the hoods open, others suspended in the air on lifts. There were workbenches with crafting stations attached, with some replicators built into the far walls. The cars were all classics, a mixture of muscle cars and station wagons. Wing doors, hood scoops, and wood paneling were heavily featured in some of them. The wheels weren''t tires but black, white-walled discs pointed at a forty-five degree angle, suggesting the vehicles flew rather than drove. It was loud here, sparks flying, engines sputtering, and power tools grinding.
Orion even heard classical rock music in an alien language. Looking for the source, he saw a few larger ratillacs lounging about with music pumping from their speakers. They didn''t seem aggressive, one even sitting on a Terran''s shoulder. For their part, the engineers seemed perfectly content with the company, and the ratillacs seemed to share the sentiment. Whether that was Gemini''s influence or if the rodents just felt at home here was anyone''s guess. If they weren''t causing problems, Orion was happy to let them stay.
"Break time!" Barnad bellowed over the noise. "Miss Neesya has brought you snacks!"
There were cheers as tools were shut off and put away. As Neesya set down the pastries, Barnad reached down for one and accidentally brushed her hand. Embarrassed, Neesya tried to pull her hand away, but the thick paw caught in and gently lifted her hand.
"You grace us with your presence, lady. A feast for the eyes as well as the stomach, yes?" Barnad kissed the back of Neesya''s hand with his chipped beak.
Neesya was blushing clear down to her bosom, her plump lips smiling, half obscured by thick tendrils of hair. You flatter me, Sir.
"Flattery is a tool for the weak-minded," the Duke reassured her. "A noble speaks only truth."
"Speaking of, didn''t you mention a wife and kids, Barnad?" Orion pressed, "Seems like you shouldn''t be flirting with people here, no matter how hot they may be."
Neesya cupped her cheeks, hiding her face. Orion could almost see steam rising from her with how flushed she was getting.
Barnad snatched a pastry and sniffed it like a sommelier about to sample a rare vintage and sighed with appreciation. The rest of the mechanics crowded in and started to tuck into the treats. Orion made sure to grab one before they were all gone.
"Pah! If that traitorous bitch actually cared, she would have sent for me already. Nestina''s probably declared me dead and married my idiot brother by now. I wouldn''t be surprised if she''s the reason I was sent here to this rock with a bunch of crimi-" Barnad glanced at Neesya and amended the thought, "-colonists. Were I to find someone who wished to stand by my side as my equal, I''d divorce her in a second. It was a political marriage at best."
"You''ve made quite the turnaround from the man who was threatening to turn everyone in Phoenix into soldiers to wage his own personal war a week ago," Orion stated, his voice suspicious.
The techanics all paused in their revelry and were suddenly listening carefully. Barnad took a bite of the pastry and moaned appreciatively. He took great pleasure in chewing it as he thought about his response. He swallowed and stared at the fruit filled baked good as if it held all the answers.
"During our fight, you told me you had lost everything. I believe you," Barnad tapped his temple, "The eyes tell everything. Yet, unlike me, you did not give into despair. You shepherd the lost, protect them, and work toward creating a better world for them. This is what a noble should be. Not a tyrant but a, uh…"
The Hiver danced, like a Queen.
Barnad pointed to the Hiver and nodded. "Yes, exactly! A royal should work for their people, not the other way around. This I forgot in my pain and anger. You have shown me the error of my ways. And now, I too work for Phoenix to bring about a better world, yes?"
Orion smiled and thrust his hand out. Duke Kholchek smiled and clasped wrists with him, giving a firm shake. Deciding to take the risk, Orion said, "Then I look forward to seeing what you come up with here. I have to head out, but I''ll stop back in to check on your progress."
"Ah! Yes, this reminds me. Follow me to my office. I have a parting gift for you." Barnad turned as the two winch workers stepped inside and spotted the snacks.
The Duke''s office was messy. It was dominated by a desk covered with assorted piles of paperwork, old lunches, and various hovercar parts. There was a screen behind the desk that showed a map of Phoenix and the surrounding areas, minus the blacked-out fog of war. There were a few framed medals on the wall, indicating a life of service in the Kreeluxian Air Force. On the desk sat a framed photo of a young girl who looked exactly like Barnad but not, he noted, any other pictures of family members.
Barnad rummaged through the desk drawers before finding what he was looking for. "Here we are! I would like to present to you a symbol of my friendship, as well as something to protect you on your journeys." The Duke held up a gold ring on a silver chain and proffered it to Orion.
Orion reached out, then hesitated. "It''s beautiful. What is it?"
Barnard pointed to the notch in his right ear, "It''s the earring you bit off me. A symbol of our camaraderie earned through combat."
"Gross!" Orion said automatically, but snatched up the necklace before Barnad could recover from his shock. "I''ll cherish it!" He quickly equipped the necklace.
[Ducal Friendship Ring: +10 to Defense]
"Aww, you got it modded out as actual equipment, too! That is really thoughtful." Orion admired the ring on the chain, "I feel bad. I don''t have any body parts to give you. Oh, wait!"
Orion pulled out the broken stub of the peg leg Barnard shattered during the duel. He carefully set it on the desk. "To commemorate our first fight."
Barnard was elated, clapping his paws together. "Splendid! The Rite of Friendship is complete. This pleases me!"
Barnard stood and walked over, arms open for a hug. Orion stepped in and the now official friends embraced, bones creaking as both men tried to out bear hug the other. As they stepped apart, Barnad clapped Orion on the back.
"Now, be safe out there. I will protect Phoenix in your absence," the Duke promised. "Maybe by the time you get back, some of these vehicles will be ready to fly you even further."
"Where did you even find these cars, Barnad?" Orion asked.
The Kreelux raised an eyebrow. "Just below us. Did you never check the garages in the suburbs? The Cy-Orgs abandoned their homes on foot, leaving their vehicles behind. With the neighborhoods cleared out, it is a simple task to tow cars to the winch and pull them up. We simply built the winch near the stairs so as not to further damage the BioDome."
Orion blinked and tried to think back. "Oh, I guess that makes sense. That never occurred to me."
"That is why you have others to pick up the slack." Barnad patted his shoulder, "Now, you go. Your implants look like they''re getting bad again. And just remember, if you need to die to reset them again, come to me. I will do the job painlessly."
Orion laughed, "well don''t expect me to offer the same. You have a lady to woo."
A dreamy expression crossed Barnad''s face. "This I do."
Xing Orobaras was sitting in the Theta Sigma 3’s cockpit. It was a dark room filled with monitors, located on the top of the Stasis Chamber. It was the former control center of the ship, and the only original room left besides Stasis. The rest of the ship’s materials were broken down by nanobots and used to construct the colony’s main base. It effectively stranded them here, forcing the prisoners sent this world to either survive or die.
Xing was sitting in a swivel chair, her tail hanging out the back and her cybernetic legs crossed on the seat, and she tapped furiously on two separate keyboards. Two holographic screens hovered in front of her, showing different sequences of code. Her right eye was blue, and her left was cybernetic with a red iris. She was reading the two screens at once, eyes pointed in different directions like a chameleon. Xing''s AI partner, a blue ichthyosaurus named Phish, watched other monitors and crunched the data. Between Xing herself, the semi-autonomous cybernetic implants in her brain, and her AI, she was gathering data at an astonishing speed.
Yet, none of it was going to help her beat the flying tentacle boss on level 9 of Starship Shootas! It seemed to be all about pattern recognition and pixel-perfect timing. Unless she was able to get some really high-tech upgrades, her cybernetic fingers wouldn''t accomplish said timing with the lag she''d been experiencing. Even the half-second delay between thinking about pressing a button to the prosthetic obeying the command was enough to kill her starship. Even though the HMS Suckmyass was way over-leveled for that area.
She hated losing to cheap tactics and game flaws. If there were some kind of accessibility options in the settings, she could keep playing, but she was barred from progressing because of her stupid cheap prison-issue limbs. It''s too bad they had classified her arms and legs as weapons and kept them locked up off-world. To be fair, they were weapons. But they would also be really handy on this shit planet that was trying to kill everyone.
Maybe she could get that professor guy to build something better for her. He probably wouldn''t, it seemed like a waste of resource allocation with the colony being built for everyone''s stupid survival. Some people had their priorities all wrong.
Sighing, Xing closed the game and got back to work. She shouldn’t be taking so many breaks, but it was all so boring! Payroll reports, prisoner dossiers, and emails from the company. Where was the intrigue? The danger? She was used to corporate espionage and was getting paid millions of credits for it. Now, she was stuck doing paperwork. For free.
Mayor Slate walked into the Administration office and clicked on the lights. Xing hissed in response.
"How''s the hacking coming along? Find anything yet?" Slate asked. He gave a long-suffering sigh and scrubbed his face with his hands. "Could you put some clothes on?"
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"No," Xing said bluntly.
Slate pinching the bridge of his nose, looking frustrated. Xing recognized that look. She knew she was a brilliant hackzor, but she tended to rub people the wrong way. She didn’t try to, but people just seemed to not like her on instinct. So she tended to lean into the weird, abrasive persona. If she kept people at a distance, there was less chance of being hurt.
"No to which part?" he asked.
"Clothes," replied Xing. "I work better this way. But I found plenty."
Slate walked closer and asked, “Like what? And please, no mind games.”
“Party pooper.” Xing opened new monitors and continued, “I’ve found some inconsistencies with the ship’s roster. Manifest Industries sent some updates at the last minute.”
Slate was confused, “Manifest Industries? Why are they making roster changed for the prison?”
Xing gave him an incredulous look. “Because they own it.”
Slate folded his arms. “No, Sanctuary Minimum Security Prison is a privately owned correctional facility funded by the government.”
“Same thing.” Xing shrugged, “Manifest Industries is a huge investor for the Galactic Parliament. For profit prisons are big business, and Manifest owns the controlling share through a shell company.”
Xing ignored his protest and turned to the monitors. She pulled a HUD window down and expanded it with her fingertips. Without looking, she slid the window toward Slate. Slate''s own HUD popped up, and the logo for Manifest Industries appeared on screen. Below that showed a showed him a list of inmates from his former employer, Sanctuary Minimum Security Prison.
Xing scrolled up on her screen, and Slate’s screen copied her movements. It showed a list of all the guards with a list of inmates underneath. Most of the names were normal, with little icons of people''s faces next to them. Some of the names were grayed out with (DECEASED) text next to the icons in bold letters.
“Okay, so on top of funding the colony rehabilitation program, Manifest also owns the prison.” Slate frowned and asked, "I’m still not seeing the issue. This is just a list of who we have planetside. Guards, prisoners, and staff. I have a copy of this in my records.”
Xing pushed off the desk with her tail, making the office chair spin. "Look closer. What''s missing?"
Slate ground his teeth and scrolled down more, taking a closer look. He''d gotten to the S''s when he stopped. He scrolled back up and was looking through the O''s. He had to go through the names several times when it finally clicked
Slate exclaimed, “Orobaras isn''t listed!”
Xing spun to face him, lilting her head at a mock curious angle. “Then how am I here?”
Sweat began to bead on Slate’s forehead. Xing watched him scroll across the shared screen. She knew what he would find, or rather wouldn’t find. There was no Kholchek either. No entry for any member of the Menagerie or the Slumgum Gang. Not even Bitterling and his cronies were listed.
"By the Void!" whispered Slate.
"I know, right? Sloppy record keeping. Someone should be fired." Xing''s chair slowed to a stop, facing away from the monitors. She dropped her legs and scooted back to face it. She speculated, "Unless it was intentional."
Slate walked to the computer console and demanded, "Show me."
Xing swayed in the chair, tucking her legs up again. In a singsong voice she trilled, "No~o."
Slate put his hands on his hips, glaring at her. "Why not?"
"You''re rude, and I don''t like you." Xing started to spin again.
Pewter appeared on Slate''s shoulder like a well-dressed conscience angel. Xing exchanged a look with Phish as Slate had a private conversation with his AI assistant. The ichthyosaur raised a cartoonishly large eyebrow but said nothing. When Slate spoke again, he seemed to take a different approach.
Slate took a deep breath, "I''m sorry. I don''t want to rush you. I''m just worried. All of our lives are at stake here, and I can''t make sense of any of this. You''re the best hackzor on the planet. If you can find the patterns I''m missing, maybe we could get these people home."
Xing stopped swaying, still tilted to one side. She narrowed her eyes, "Do I need to wear clothes?"
Slate''s eye twitched, "Just sanitize the chair when you''re done. So if you weren’t incarcerated in Sanctuary, where did the other prisoners come from?"
Xing grinned enigmatically and opened an updated roster, sliding it to Slate’s HUD. The new list overlapped almost perfectly with the original, but with some major revisions. Hundred of names were replaced, some of them with familiar faces. They weren''t even in alphabetical order, almost like they were added as an afterthought. The email attachment was labeled ''Transfers from Void''s Asteroid Prison’.
“Void''s Asteroid?” Slate gasped, “the maximum security prison? Only dangerous criminals are sent there!”
"Yup! A bunch of us were suddenly put into stasis. We was told it was a prison transfer." Xing shrugged, "imagine my surprised when I woke up up here."
Slate gawped at her, “why didn’t you say something?”
Xing curled her lip, “yeah right. My last warden lied and had me shipped off to this toxic wasteland. Why would I have trusted you?”
“I had nothing to do with this! The guards were assigned directly to the Theta Sigma 3 ship. I never set foot in either prison,” Slate protested. “I was told we were being assigned to a habitable world. This was supposed to be a nice place to settle down and retire.”
“I’m sure it would have been,” Phish said in a gruff voice. “If they sent us to the right freakin’ planet!”
Sweat was starting to trickle down Slate expansive forehead. He mopped at it with a handkerchief and asked, “They accidentally sent us to the wrong place?”
"You’re half right." Xing swayed with agitation. “This was no accident.”
Xing turned and pulled up the ship’s star charts. She expanded the map, showing a three dimensional model of their galaxy, the Silky Way. There were brightly lit specks with labels, showing off known colonies and inhabited worlds. Large chunks of the map were obscured by inky blobs.
Xing explained, “This is our galaxy as we know it. The dark spots are either unexplored, or the information about them were lost to history during the Gate War. These areas are called ‘Unknown Space’.”
Slate scoffed, “Creative nickname.”
"Save your comments to the end of the presentation. Now, according to the ship records, here is a list of life-sustaining planets scheduled for colonization." Nearly a hundred yellow dots appeared across the map. Xing highlighted half of them in red circles and continued, "The circled ones are planets owned by the Manifest Institute."
Xing zoomed in on one planet and tapped it. A red arrow labeled ‘You Are Here’ appeared above it. "This is where we were scheduled to go. MI-47."
Slate loosened his tie. Sweat started to roll down his high forehead. MI-47 was the furthest away from the main body of Manifest planets. The uncolonized world was bordering
a section of Unknown Space.
Xing watched Slate''s expression with one eye, "You see it, don''t you?
Slate hesitated but asked, “So if we’re not on MI-47, then were are we?”
Xing gave him a sadistic smile, and turned back to the map. Slate watched in horror as she touched the white dot, dragging it away from the intended destination. Right into the shadowy blob of nothingness. She removed her finger, the red arrow pointing at the center of Unknown Space.
"Home. Sweet. Home!" Xing said grimly.
Slate whispered, "By the void."
“The co-ordinates were changed at the last minute. Fed directly to the ship’s autopilot.” Xing sent Slate another half dozen emails to illustrate her point. “The instructions were simple. Leave Sanctuary in cryostasis, make an unscheduled pickup at Void''s Asteroid, then ship us all off to bumfuck nowhere.”
Slate gripped his head in disbelief. "But why? Surely they wouldn’t just send us here to die!”
Peals of laughter bubbled up from Xing. She rested her chin on her hand, leveling a suspicious look at Slate. "You had no idea this was going on? Really?"
Xing brought up an email chain sent to the Theta Sigma 3. They were addressed to Warden Slate, seeking progress reports on establishing a colony. The emails went unanswered for several months. The last email ended with a note of finality.
[Colony Unresponsive: Terminate All Contact. Delete All Correspondence to MI-47]
“That’s your name on those emails,” accused Xing.
Xing’s certainty started to waver as Slate started to hyperventilate. She recognized the signs of a panic attack. Concerned despite herself, she stood to offer assistance. Before she could lend a hand, Slate’s AI took the lead.
Pewter''s voice was soothing as she instructed, "Take a deep breath, Sir. Now release it. Good, now repeat. In…and out. In…and out."
Slate followed the instructions until his breathing normalized. Xing took pity on him. That clearly wasn’t the reaction of a cold, calculating mastermind. He was just as trapped as they were. She grabbed a cold water bottle from the desk and pressed it against his forehead.
Slate flinched, then accepted it gratefully. “Thank you. I swear, I had no idea this was happening. I just wanted to settle someplace quiet with my friends.”
"I believe you," she said softly.
Slate cracked opened the bottle, taking a big refreshing swig. With a last steadying breath, Slate clarified. "I never checked my e-mail. I was too busy getting the base set up so we didn’t all die from the poisoned air. It was only a few weeks before we had to escape to Stasis. How long were we on ice, anyway?”
Xing answered, "Three years."
"By the Prime Batch.” Slate closed his eyes, “We were sent here to die. But why here, in the middle of Unknown Space-"
Xing sat and tucked her legs under her. She could almost see the last few puzzle pieces sliding into place in Slate’s mind. His expression went from hopeless to furious as she watched, thick veins throbbing on the sides of his head.
“Org?a!” Slate growled, “Manifest knew it was here. Orion was right! They sent us here to colonize fucking Org?a!”
Xing leaned back, not comfortable this close to an angry cop. She watched him pace the room, one hand cupped over his mouth as he ruminated. Xing relaxed as he started to talk the problem out, ignoring her completely.
“So we’re trapped here, cut off from the company. Probably used this failed expedition as a tax write-off, the bastards.” Slate stopped circling and asked, "Is there any way to get a distress call to Sanctuary?"
Xing turned and did some quick calculations, numbers scrolling across the star chart, more dots flashing. Lines started to connect them, eventually landing on Sanctuary.
"Ye~es," Xing looked at Slate with one eye, the other focused on the screen. "But no. First, we would need a large relay station to send out a signal. And even if we could construct that without it being destroyed by the sandstorms. We’d have to calculate the correct direction through Unknown Space, then try to bounce it off a bunch of satellites in Colony Space. That’s assuming we could fix whatever’s blocking our signal."
Slate swallowed, "How long would it take?"
"A decade," she confessed. "Give or take. If we''re lucky."
Slate collapsed in a chair, "So we''re stuck."
Xing started to swing her body, the chair swiveling back and forth under her. "I mean, it''s possible it could get intercepted by a ship. If they found us here, they could possibly send us for help. That increased the risk of Manifest realizing we''re still active, but they might try to rescue us for some good press?"
Slate rubbed his temples, his head throbbing, "Fine, fine. It''s better than nothing. Just send me a Mission for what you need for the relay station, and start working on the distress call route. Please."
"No."
Slate was taken aback. "No? What do you mean no? This affects you too!"
Xing rocked on the chair, "Yeah, but I''m sick of working for free. You want anything more from me? You gotta pay."
"Pay?" Slate blurted, "With what? Phoenix doesn''t have currency! Vegetables? Puppies? What could you possibly want for payment?"
Xing tapped a button, and a collection of photos featuring Orion filled the screen. Most of them were from the duel in various stages, some of them badly bloodied. All of them were at flattering angles that made him look heroic.
Xing pointed, "I want Him."