And was not taken in stride. Rather Racquelle receded into herself at the news of the impending Company flotilla. Twelve vessels ranging from city sized behemoths, to mid range ships capable of holding forty thousand or more. Then there are the smaller ships that barely hold more than a few thousand. The behemoths will disgorge a vast swarm of fighters, drop ships, escorts and work vehicles. As far as Racquelle was concerned this was going to be a massacre. A fast, violent and ultimately brutal escapade in her otherwise hard won life. No stranger to storming ships like a pirate to capture crew and cargo for the doctor. But somewhere deep down she always thought she’d retire to a far off colony, to spend the rest of her days turning soil at the hands of a shovel. The rich thick scent of muddy loam firmly entrenched in her nostrils. A patchy cloud covered sky overhead, and a fading sunset a part of her last days alive. The impartiality of the news given by K, and its humanoid companion Katayna, a icy dagger into her heart.
Much to her dismay K had created a massive countdown clock that was visible no matter where Racquelle turned. Whether to torture her, or remove all doubt of the looming invasion, she didn’t know, and didn’t venture to ask. Choosing instead to wrap herself in gluttonous meals, and warm blankets woven from the remains of K’s original crew, when K was not a former human & ship amalgam, but a star faring human from centuries before. The tender soft brush of cool silks against her cheeks were of little solace. The meals, while sumptuous, tasted of ash and decay. Her sleep wracked with despair, and her waking moments drowned under a pall of frozen terror.
Twisted in her sheets, staring blindly out of the windows provided by K, Racquelle sits, motionless waiting for the first signs of contact. A subtle shift in the stars. A blinking out to black as the back drop becomes obscured by the viscious Company flotilla. All the while, the large colorless numbers creep ever onwards towards zero.
“Racquelle dear, would you please open the door. I know enough about you that I don’t wish to break in against your will. Please. I have urgent news.” Katayna whispers through the doors to Racquelle’s quarters. In a fit of humanity, she lays her head against the door with a light thud. The oddly heavy, and dense nanotech make up of her body making her much heavier than one would think. After a pause the door hatch clinks as the locks unlatch. Taking a moment to let the door open entirely before entering Katayna flexes her hands nervously. The intense social interaction with Racquelle has rubbed off on her noticeably. Taking on more and more subconscious ticks, like blinking, pupil dilation, coughs and finding reasons to play with her finger nails, such as they are.
“Racquelle, I have some rather disturbing news.” Whispers Katayna as she glides into the room. “Great!, is there a secondary fleet too?” Shouts Racquelle from within the tangled sheets of her bed. “Well, yes, in a manner of speaking, but that isn’t why I need to talk to you.” Answers Katayna. “What!?!, what do you mean that’s not the news you want to talk to me about, what could possible be more important?” Shrieks Racquelle in a hysterically shrill moan. “I do believe the second grouping to have originated from UB313, and would be classified as friendlies. Potentially. Though I’m sensing more organic material than normal out of that cluster. But based on human DNA. Odd, really.” She says, pulling a face, her head tilting less dramatically to the side while recalling other data. “No – my issue is I have discovered a partition, well several if them in our data banks. They are road blocks we, I, K and myself cannot penetrate, but we estimate they contain the same quantity of data as we have decrypted from the slew of outgoing messages we’ve found. I need you to try to breach the partitions for me.” Whispers Katayna so quietly that Racquelle has to hold her breath in order to hear it entirely.
“Even with all of the new data processing power we’ve managed to plug into, we can’t break the partitions. I think it has something to do with you. Something you did, or are going to do?” Katayna rasps into the darkness of Racquelle’s room.
Part Forty: Ghost of the Dirty Starling.
Greatwall Studios Graphic Design 