Natalia Ferreira

The special forces teams have been given berths in claustrophobic four-person rooms inside the marine deck, placed strategically as the central deck for ease of deployment in case of combat or emergencies. I’m still very hazy on the subject, but the marines are supposed to form damage-repair teams when there’s no fighting boarding or deploying going on. Our training was extremely expedited to join this mission. We were supposed to form a damage-repair team with a few engineers if we hadn’t a special task all to ourselves.

“This’ the corridor?” I ask as I turn the corner, having gotten my locker in order. Face — Borbarium, I mean — and two of my comrades are there, on guard duty.

“Damn right it is,” complains William, leaning on the bulkhead and scowling towards the two gates on the end of said corridor, our objective for our stay. He’s our chatty comm-guy, a mech-type, and is probably very pissed off at having to stand here for hours instead of up to his shenanigans.

“Patience is a virtue, young William,” counsels Borbarium as he helps Arjun to set up the shielded Ion Cannon and Dispell Turret.”

“There’s not even an enemy in the whole system!” he carries on complaining with a petulant tone, which makes my eyes roll nearly by themselves. I wonder if he’ll be up to snuff when things get hot; training only shows so much.

“That we know of,” rebuts Arjun, not stopping his task.

“Yes, yes. The Swarm may very well be around, and ship kidnappings are known to happen, yes? Cyber Virus and Subvert Construct sorcery are tricky, tricky things,” adds our leader. “One minute you’re alright, the next the droids and the constructs are taking the ship from under you! Hence why we’re stuck here instead of gallivanting around the ship.” The censure is mild, but by the reddening of the boy’s cheeks, I can tell that it stings.

“Very few humans on-board to begin with, William. You’re up for alien booty?” I tease William further.

“Wha-”

“Ah, is young William a cross-species appreciator? Maybe I could arrange something…” says Borbarium in jest, stopping as all his appendages turn suddenly to the boy who squirms under his gaze.

“I think the leader’s got a crush on you now,” I rib the boy and he stammers a denial and looks away.

Face is mock hurt at the rejection, and we have a good laugh about it. All in good fun. He just needs to take it down a notch sometimes.

“It’s ready,” proclaims Arjun. “Scary guns” is his verdict, and when the sniper says that…

“I was just checking on you boys. Don’t let the non-sentient masses overrun you. Bye-bye.”

I head away, already dreading my shift at that dreary task. It’s of great importance, however. This is a show of trust if I’ve ever seen one. The little interaction we’ve had with the other special force’s teams has always have been in the vein of encouragement as well. The only problem is that I’m not sure we deserve it — I’m sure we haven’t earned yet. Our time will come, one way or another.

I can only pray to the orixás that we can rescue our brothers and sisters being reared and slaughtered like farm animals. In this I believe the more vengeful orixás will surely lend me their strength.

***​

Longcannon

“Captain on the bridge!” chirps Wanderlust in a voice a tad unprofessional for a warship.

“Captain,” Commander Daramya greets me as she vacates my chair, bobbing her appendages. “Will you take the conn already?” she asks me surprised, checking the time on her overlay.

“No, I’ve just set up a meeting with part of the jump team after the scientist’s troubling updates,” Longannon shows her hand in a ‘what can you do?’ human gesture that is nonetheless understood by the commander. The vagaries of jumping are known to all who travel the stars and no secret to planet dwellers either.

The jump team. There are a lot of people involved to safely operate the extremely complex, temperamental jump drive. First there are the engineers and enchanters doing maintenance and keeping it running, but these aren’t needed now, their reports being all green. Then there are the people in charge of creating the jump chart and mapping out all possible hazards, usually led by a scientist — in this ship the Liagori Seeker, The navigator plots the safest course he can with special attention for the first two hours when the ship is vulnerable, and the pilot attempts to execute it. The time before the jump-drive was able to phase the ship is critical, Denizens and natural jump-space hazards capable of attacking, damaging, and boarding it.

“Ah, you’ve brought your navigator, Lieutenant Commander Dheng, right?”

“Precisely. What can you tell me about the helmsbeing and the ornery scientist?” Of course she has read their files, but personal impressions are something she often finds useful.

“Lieutenant Orovr is said to have exceptional talent amongst our Liagori ship-handlers, and you know we’re pretty good. Tamlir is very arrogant and a couple years past his last moulting if you ask me, but he’s very experienced. Captain Garying wisely defers to his advice usually, but he’s a bit of a risk-taker.”

Longcannon laughs in response and thanks her subordinate before heading to her office. She knows the last moulting is the Liagori’s euphemism for going six feet under. Some things were widespread in the universe, including the various terms created for sensitive happenings like death. Not that there aren’t some that treat it in a radically different manner

“Thanks, Wanderlust,” she says as she enters the austere captain’s private office, noting the chairs suited to her humanoid droid’s form as well as Dheng’s.

“My pleasure, captain!” trills the ship, the one responsible for overseeing and anticipating the captain’s needs.

It’s good to see Garying is not one to flaunt, but it could be a little less drab, she thinks as she takes her place behind a circular table. Longcannon’s judgment of Garying improves as she inspects the table, made of a beautiful material from Liagor — shells cobbled together exquisitely. Besides its beauty, it’s practical, with built-in holo emitters standing in its center. As she muses about these details and a hundred more important matters, Wanderlust sounds a chime.

“Let them in.”

The first one to enter is Dheng, the lieutenant commander who’s occupied for some years the head Navigation position on Longcannon’s Bulwark heavy cruiser, left behind to guard Terra. An advanced gear-head, he’s so covered with biomech’s and exo-gears that no one can quite guess his race without looking at his record. They’re fairly well acquainted - maybe even friends if you overlook the captain-subordinate relation - so Dheng just nods confidently and heads straight to a seat.

“Captain,” Lieutenant Orovr is a bit more weary, even if she can still detect the fighter jock’s swagger even the relatively amorphous Liagori moves with. Most helmsbeings are selected from the fighter corps, a mix of sheer talent, coolness under fire, and capacity of following orders on a whim being the most desirable traits. She gestures towards one of the elliptical armchairs favored by his people and the pilot sits.

Last but not least (annoying) is the grumbling Knowledge-Seeker Tamlir, the eldest Liagori on the crew - and that Longcannon had ever seen. With a grunt the scientist, not a formal member in the military hierarchy, took the last seat around the table. “I’m here. We could have done this by holo, could we not? I have many pressing projects to see to.”

“None of which will matter much if the Wanderlust is destroyed because of incomplete data,” Longcannon rebukes the being, still unrepentant despite the censure. “Your report was troubling, I want to hear more of it. And I find it’s in my good interest as captain to get to know key-members of the crew; you’re a respected figure.”

“If you say so, captain,” the being undulates - his version of a shrug. It seems he’s not moved by praise either. “The jump-space is extremely volatile, warped enough to be of concern, as I’ve detailedly reported,” he fires back at the captain, expecting a reaction. He just gets a stare that makes him uncomfortable.

“You were saying about the jump-space…” prods him Orovr, clearly already used to the ornery Liagori.

“It’s agitated, as I’ve said. Time and gravitational eddies, revolt currents, and some nasty Denizens. The works. Could be worse.”

“I’m the navigator, Seeker, and I must say it’s indeed a good jump-chart. But I want to consult you about a few details before finalizing all paths, optimal and otherwise. Wanderlust, if you could?”

The ship diligently brings up the chart on the table’s holo, representing the jump-space as best as we can limited to three dimensions. In the cryptic chart, there’s a lot of information; some of it like the time-gravity anomalies only perceptible to the most advanced sensors, and others only identifiable by the means of specialized magic. Civilizations jumping without both were liable to be blindsided by the jump-space’s many perils.

“Before you begin the technical conversation, which I’ll fully entrust to the three of you,” the captain interrupts. “I’d like to know of the Divinators’ best guesses for the crawlers. They hedged their guesses on the Auguries way too much.” Longcannon demanded, using the informal term for the things that inhabit the jump-space. The word alien is bandied around a lot in regards to species from others systems and planets, but these things… They were *other*, different. They don’t follow the same laws of existence, or so it seems.

“Damn cowards, I told them to narrow it down,” he says, his appendages tightening in anger. “Divinators…” Those were the spellcasters in charge of operating the Auguries, the arcane tools painstakingly developed to divine information about the Denizens. It was a common problem with Divinators, while their tech counterparts, Sensor Officers, usually erred on the side of overconfidence.

Longcannon has to clean her throat to shake the Liagori out of his rant.

“Ah, yes. They think many of the entities are observers,” he begins, pointing out on the chart the clusters of Denizens who were known not to do anything against intruders on the jump-space. It was rumored the Cartel had only been able to set up the Market’s delivery system by somehow contacting and reaching an agreement with these others to protect their relays. Unconfirmed rumors, of course - the Cartel would never give up his advantages. “Try to keep on this current if your main one is blocked, these seem to be only class 1 and 2s, probably won’t even scratch the Wanderlust’s paint.”

“Won’t make past my shields,” agrees the Wanderlust. Class 1s to 3s are usually small clusters of aggressive Denizens that can pose a threat to merchant vessels.

The absorbed Seeker nods. “That way, though, there are probably class 5s and 6s. Please don’t go there.”

“We probably won’t, nobody likes Denizen-boardings,” agrees Dheng promptly, some of his metal gear moving distractedly as he focuses on Tamlir’s report. Class 4s to 7s are Denizens known to be capable of boarding and threatening warships like the Wanderlust, feared by dint of sheer numbers or incredible threat.

“And the talks about a class 8?” asks the until then silent Helmsbeing, Lieutenant Orovr, excitement clear in his shivering appendages. Dheng rolls his eyes at the young pilot’s eagerness and shares a look with Longcannon. The pair knew from experience it was far from desirable to meet a ship-breaker Denizen, those from Classes 8 to 12.

“If there was an 8 around here, it’s very likely gone,” replies Seeker Tamlir, dismissive. Thankfully, the ship-breakers are rare and usually easy to avoid. The more stellar traffic there’s in the system one jumps to, the less likely are Denizens to be found nearby; such encounters were incredibly rare on the more developed core systems of each faction, increasing on their frontiers.

“Update me if there’s any significant change in our travel time. Wrap it up soon, gentlebeings, we’re close to go time,” are Longcannon’s parting words as he exits the office to take over command.

***​

Natalia Ferreira

Warning: The Wanderlust will jump in five minutes! Report to your stations! First-time Jumpers report to infirmary!

I wave away the window, gazing at the medical bot loaned to us in case there’s an emergency. Marines and add-on ground-pounders don’t get it easy like the crew. I turn back to the conversation going behind me.

“So what are these things again?” asks Eugene, serious and away from his games for once. The former caddie gave up on becoming the second Tiger Woods for a shot at journeying the stars, and he made it. When he’s not stuck in his games, he’s a pretty chill person. He’s our Cyber-Warfare specialist and works wonders with machines. But his role in combat is as Drone Controller, controlling up to a dozen of versatile machines at the same time.

“Think of them as inhabitants of jump-space. We don’t understand them, can barely even communicate. Most of them are peaceful, but the ones that aren’t can be a handful,” explains Borbarium, fitted with four diagonal bands between his arm-legs, carrying all sorts of weapons. Two short Cryo-Daggers are strapped to his center and I can count at least three different Elemental Blasters on easily accessible holsters. A walking armory if you consider the other items he has stashed. As an Infiltrator, straight combat is not where he truly shines, but I’ve no doubt he’s the strongest fighter among us.

“They sound like demons,” says Nadine, often his partner-in-crime. The Russian witch give me really weird vibes, even if she’s generally a polite, pleasant teammate. In any case, you don’t get any more stupid than antagonizing a Hexer.

“Maybe we seem like demons to them,” I comment, earning a chuckle out of the pair. I have a Phantom Scattergun, a shotgun on steroids, capable of firing both preloaded slugs and different kinds of special cartridges on the fly. At my belt is safely strapped an axe with a molecule-thin edge as well as a compacted runic-shield. For all they call me a priest, I can only affect myself, receiving blessings from the Orixás.

Warning: Jump Imminent!

5

4

3

2

1

One second I’m fine, the next I’m dazed and falling forward, Borbarium’s quick action stopping me from hitting the deck. My last thought is fuck, why me?

***​

Carries a Longcannon

“All task-force ships are accounted for and keeping formation. Medical reports under twenty affected crew and marines, zero deaths,” Daramya reports silently, by comms, to her captain’s satisfaction.

“That’s good,” she replies without taking her eyes off the pilots’ shoulders. “Let’s see if Orovr can handle it.” And if Daramya could handle coordinating the task-force’s jump-drive resonance, a task usually handled by captains. It was good experience for her if she ever wanted a shot of captaining a ship of her own warship. Failure could imperil the ally who dropped behind. One of the many oddities of jumping is that

They take care not to disturb the frantic focus of both pilot and navigator, as do all crewmembers on the bridge. The pair are doing their best to avoid the many mishaps in jump-space after all. The first two hours or so were critical for the ship to achieve safety, the jump-drive phasing them enough that the large majority of Denizens and space-jump’s dangers aren’t able to affect the ship. A good captain trusts her crew and doesn’t interfere or back-seat drive, Longcannon repeated over and over in a small memory process to keep her honest.

“Orovr is a good pilot, I can feel it,” Wanderlust chimes in. “I wouldn’t trust myself to the 3rd shift’s helmsbeing though.”

Longcannon snorts. Neither would she. Third shift personnel were mostly fresh from academies. Dheng belts out a series of terse instructions, and Orovr grumbles but seems to acquiesce in the end. Smart boy.

“Captain, XO,” an unexpected voice rings through her auditory sensors. “Hrm, I might have a possible explanation to why the jumpspace is more fraught than we expected,” Seeker Tamlir says.

“Go on,” she encourages.

“There’s a minor faction of scientists that argues that unexpected increases in Denizens’ presence and jump-space phenomena are closely related to major system disturbances going on the system,” the Seeker says, distaste clear in his voice at presenting the argument he probably doesn’t believe in.

“What kinds of disturbances? And why are you telling us this, Seeker?” Longcannon prods the elder.

“Upheaval in any major celestial objects - that means, planets, stars, and gas and ice giants. They’re an offshoot of the Gaians,” Tamlir pronounces the name of the group as an offense.

“The ones that believe those objects are living beings?” asks Daramya, a bit distracted with her duties.

“The very same.” The elder replies, grunting.

“I find it an intriguing idea myself, Seeker. I haven’t heard a good explanation for mana’s origins yet,” Longcannons points out to the skeptic. The Terrans had come to a similar idea by themselves and without the benefit of mana, and so had many other people before them.

Warning: All crew! Brace for sudden maneuvers!

Not a surprising message during the beginning of a jump.

They are unfazed, but Daramya swears, “A minute, Captain, Broodmother is lagging behind the formation.” Unsurprising, the Carrier was the oldest vessel among the Task Force. Its fighter were thankfully less so.

“Sounds a lot like wishful thinking to me,” fires back the Seeker. “Anyway, I had to bring this up because I’ve noticed some of the patterns they proposed as I studied further the chart. Would have been remiss of me.”

“I thank you, Seeker,” Longcannon replies.

“Yes, good job, Tamlir,” says Daramya as the elder grumbles and ends the call. “What do you think, captain?”

“Could be related to our goal, could be a random ice giant acting up. There’s no way to know before we arrive.”

“If you’ll excuse me, I’ll run up some possible scenarios,” says the diligent XO, and I encourage her diligence.

“Captain?” Dheng calls me in a calmer tone, releasing a shower of particles to cool his body to the grumbling of the nearby junior officers.

“Yes?”

“Orovr and I agree that we’ve managed to keep to the Optimal Path and that we shouldn’t be bothered by anything we can see.”

“Lowering attention level,” Daramya announces after consulting me with a glance.

“Good job, the both of you. Was there something else?” Longcannon asks as he keeps looking at her.

“Yes, captain. We think we’ve got a glimpse of a trio of class 8s stalking us,” he sub-vocalizes, sending me a private comm. “Not a problem - yet.”

“I’m pleased with your performance, first shift, you can call your replacements,” I say out loud to the bridge-crew. “In one week we’ll be paying the Grays a very unpleasant reminder why they shouldn’t disregard sentient rights!” I declare to cheers.

“And then we’ll see if these Eights will pounce on our next jump,” Longcannon sends to her trusty navigator.

***​

One week later.

Carries a Longcannon.

“Emerging, captain,” says Dheng as the ship rumbles, exiting jump-space.

“Analyzing star-location…” reports the commander in charge of the Sensors department, his subordinates also pouring over the feedback. “We’re on target, medium!” Jumping is made from jump-point to jump-point, but a lot of factors influence where they are at a system. The ‘medium’ mentioned referred to the time to their objective, Verdant-27’s fourth planet, which was about 12 hours on cruising speed, the most fuel-efficient speed. “Gravity sensor says local area is clear, deploying system scanners, mapping system at light-speed.”

“All ships report green emergence!” belts out the shy, green Comm second lieutenant. That’s an improvement, though she could tone it down a bit. “The Bel is accelerating, the others are moving into formation!”

The destroyer Commander Bel (’Bel’) is the fastest of its kind, so it’s the chosen one to scout ahead; the other smaller escorts are faster but too thinly-armored in comparison to risk in the scenario. The Wanderlust is screened by two destroyers, the Valiant Struggler (Struggler) and Lieutenant Intoshi (’Intoshi’), and two frigates, Aj’Tor and Aj’Valin, assuming a diamond formation centered on it. The formation is mirrored behind it, centering around the carrier Broodmother, protected by the frigate Gacket and the three corvettes ’Swiftkin, Nontherd, and Gaolizard.

Hm, the AI would have expected some shoddy detection system or outdated mines at least on a blank system of this kind, used discreetly and exclusively for activities frowned upon by the galaxy civilizations at large - like sentient farming.

“We’ve just detected a warning beacon lighting up, captain!” Damn quantum beacons, Longcannon wondered if she’d jinxed herself as Terrans said. They’d know ships arrived even if not who and how many exactly.

“Captain?” Weapons waited for her nod and visibly talked into her inner-comm after getting it. “Beacon destroyed.”

“The Bel reports she’s detected two slagged, abandoned mines, no danger. No contacts detected yet.” The destroyer is on a tangetial course to their goal, and Longcannon decided to go ahead. She looked at her navigator.

“Course plotted,” Dheng anticipates her orders.

“Get us to that planet, Lieutenant Orovr, cruising speed,” orders Longcannon.

“Heading to the planet, cruising speed, aye, aye, captain.

“I want full scrying on the planet, right now,” she instructs to the Sensor officer. Seeker Tamlir only had authority over magical scanning in regards to jump-divination, working only as an auxiliary during the ship’s normal activity.

“Spellroom says they’re activating all four Scrying Towers, but advise that they’ll hog a lot of our mana generation,” the commander replies. The towers are actually columns of the ship, runed and enchanted to be able to cast the complex spell in long-distances, each based on one of their mana sources.

“I dislike having so little mana,” comments Wanderlust privately to her captain.

“Understood,” Longcannon acknowledges them both. She’s already observing the mana reserve with a thought process since the emergence, severely drained by feeding the drive through the whole jump. It’s one of the warship’s key resources, generated by four Liagori places-of-power, or sanctuaries, spread through the ship. Each race has its own kinds of sanctuary, but the Wanderlust only carries Liagori’s most efficient type: Liagor’s Magical Mangroves, its potency boosted by relics, ancient bones, and a small magical eco-system.

Unity's Cruiser Wanderlust

Hull Integrity: 100%

Energy Shield Integrity: 100%

Mana Barrier Integrity: 100%

Network Subversion: 0%

Mana Intrusion: 0%

Ammunition: 99,9%

Mana Reserve: 23% (+0,05% per hour)

Fuel: 93,7%

Jump Charge: 0% (0,1% per hour)

“Captain, Spellroom,” a comm request comes in. “Scrying shows there’s been severe tectonic and volcanic activity in the planet. We tried to scry the supposed location of the farm according to the data and it’s in ruins. One of our Diviners believe it has seen the trails of a shuttle exiting orbit, but it’s hard to tell. We’re having no success looking to orbit because of the dust. Should we try to Scry space directly?”

Grimacing at the news, Longcannon shakes her head. “No, we don’t have that mana to burn. My thanks for your service, shut down the Towers.” Scrying space is incredibly more mana-costly than scrying planets with mana, and their reserves are already pretty low. Longcannon knows they’ll know soon enough.

They stay in relative silence for hours as they accelerate towards their goal, preceded by the Bel. As awesome as magitech is, for now there just isn’t a minimally efficient instant long-range teleporter for warships of that size. Space is still incredibly vast even with the advent of jump drives. And no matter how close to lightspeed they can eventually accelerate to, they still have to decelerate in the middle of the route to arrive near the target without just rocketing past it. Technological advances are often achieving very small gains, and cutting edge ships with amazing speed and teleportation devices do exist. Just not in significant quantities and not ever in a small theater like the Milky Way. Hell, there’s barely any ship-to-ship fighting beyond a couple of designated planet’s systems.

Just as Longcannon is about to order a shift change in the 4th hour since their emergence, Comms pipes up. “Captain, the Bel reports it’s detected two frigate-sized vessels running from the planet. The bandits are gunning for the jump-point opposite of our emergence. The Bell’s sending in the data.”

Damn lucky to catch them so far away, the Bel must have not spared mana. The Bel’s Scryers deserve a commendation. Longcannon looks at their speeds and accelerations, makes some calculations, and concludes there’s no way one of the warships can reach them.

“The Broodmother is requesting permission to launch fighters,” Comms adds a second later. Not warships. How she has missed having carriers in live operations in the past.

“Permission granted.”

“Fighters launched. ETA to the two targets is 4 hours,” reports Comms.

“Oh, that should be fun!” says the Wanderlust to her auditory sensors, behaving until that moment.

“I want them disabled, not destroyed,” the captain cautions Comms, who sends her message to the Broodmother.

“Disable, not destroy, the Broodmother acknowledges.”

“Warn the marines and special forces high-ranking members of upcoming simultaneous boarding and landing operations.”

“Aye, aye, captain.”

“We will save whoever is left to be saved, and they’ll pay for their crimes,” she promises to herself, but the bridge-crew clearly agrees with the sentiment.