Mikhail Olegovich, clan leader of Dawn’s Fang, flipped his trusty high-frequency blade, Cassaria, in the air as he leaned back in a pilot’s chair. The peaceful sound of his salvaged cuckoo clock ticked away on the dashboard, the little bird that extended from it hourly had been freshly painted with a small beard in memory of a certain engineer. The Hammer of Victory was certainly smaller, and more utilitarian compared to Fifth Spoke or Mikhail’s White Gold, but it did the job. Hell, it practically made Starheart look like a prison ship in comparison. Whistling a light tune, Mikhail sat as the ship continued to burn towards their current system’s star for an energy resupply. Escaping from under the nose of the Out-Han had been a little tricky, but his new allies had learnt a lot about discreet ship manoeuvres in the short time they’d been acquainted, and the cloaking field he had given the Ten-Tri early in his mission had helped.
Of course, it made things easier that only one Ten-Tri Rexia had made it off the Out-Han fleet, the far more agreeable Rexia Hyalt. Protheus had the motivation in spades, but had displayed signs of his growing xenophobia towards humanity as time went on. Such weak divisions of the mind had no place in his new empire. Mikhail made a mental reminder to thank Salvador, god knows how he actually did it, for dealing with the uppity alien one day. Some chocolates? A good rosé perhaps? Hmm, a thought for later. Additionally, the strange visions he experienced as he was escaping seemed to line up timewise with the reports that Keeper Thomas, the man who stared too deep into Mikhail’s bloody gulf of a heart, was messing with the Ruby Eye’s S-Drive. The lingering headache he received following the event reminded the ex-clanlord of the sensation of breaking the surface after every S-Jump. If the S-Drive could be altered to act as a weapon capable of inducing disorientation and illusions, that would be useful to have. That was unless those visions were something else entirely.
Eventually, Matvey approached him. “Sir.” The man saluted, wearing a smile full of success. Mikhail knew he had chosen right by appointing the man to be his second in command. He was quick, clean and efficient at his job. Additionally, judging by the data packet in his hand, he had triumphed at his task once again. He tossed the device to his superior and gave a bow, turning back to the small entourage of Cambiar he had been training in combat throughout the journey.
“Thank you deary,” Mikhail called out as he inserted the drive into the ship’s computer. The Ten-Tri had developed some serious cryptographic technology and had managed to decipher this encoded information in only a few hours. Taking a mug of steaming, slightly herbal, drink from the Cambiar equivalent of a cabin boy or maid, Mikhail struggled with some of the more ambiguously sexed Cambiar, he scanned through the data.
Matvey had done his job well, taking out Maltar the Qilin, a top-rank Dragon Guard sent to keep an eye on Zafar. Though the officer’s disguise had hidden the Emperor’s elite officer from the mechanical buffoon, Mikhail and his men were not so easily misled. Aside from the typical secrets and high-value information one would expect on such a device, there was a sub-section sealed off, intended for only the highest members of Heaven’s Doctrine to read. Firstly, there was a plan to enhance the genetic augmentation program of the Dragon Guard utilizing data stolen from the Cambiar. Mikhail couldn’t help but laugh aloud at the sight of such orders. None of the Doctrine forces had managed escaped the Out-Han, aside from those alongside Mikhail. The Emperor would be in a rather sore position – having made enemies of an alien empire many times the size of his own and without obtaining a single strategic advantage. Of course, Mikhail’s own clan would likely be receiving a penalty of their own, having spat in the face of the Jade bastard himself. Disbandment? Forceful possession of their territories? That seemed likely – no family who cursed the god-emperor himself would receive anything but the worst fate. Mikhail had already made escape plans for his personal troops and court prior to his meeting with the old corpse many months back, and all he needed to do now was recall those loyal to him.
Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.
His father, brother and sister on the other hand… Mikhail brushed off those worries. He was never that close to his family, considering they had treated him as a sword lacking a grip his whole life – first as a tool to murder all possible targets available to a dishonoured clan, then as an object to be discarded by sending him on continuous suicide missions. In the end, a new future stood ahead of him and his family were the ones facing their death.
Returning his focus back to the data, he found the next section was far more important that the earlier information. Putting down the drink, Mikhail tensed up. The majority of the information was raw data taken from a series of remote analysis probes beyond clan space, alongside some speculation and predictions. The main body of the data was the fact that unusual space-time distortions, seemingly echoing those of Schrodinger Drive activations or tests, were detected far beyond the reaches of human or Cambiar space. Initially, this seemed like a distant Exploration Fleet, or some poor merchant of the corporations lost far from home. This was disproven when an analysis of the quantum sub-reality particles came back with bizarre patterns. They didn’t match any known S-Drive components and varied from the typical standard human frequencies used for QIS displacement. Supposing a regular human ship was using an S-Drive that far out, they would be running at an incredibly low rate of efficiency, as the frequency detected did little to assist in the FTL travel of human QIS patterns. It made no sense.
That was unless the machine’s outgoing readings were not coming from a human operator. With a grin spread wide as a shark’s, Mikhail had found a new direction for the Ten-Tri to look in. Cracking his neck and tossing the data-tablet back to an idle clan guard, he made his way towards the gathered Ten-Tri officers in the ship’s lounge. He had a lot to explain, a new form of intelligent life to be found, and an empire to build. Who knew what laid out there in the vastness of space. Was there another hand reaching out of the deep sea of the unknown, waiting to break the surface? If there was, he would be waiting with open arms and open eyes.
Mikhail couldn’t wait.