Asks the Company lawyer, a Mrs. Kinsey, from across the cramped drab meeting room, buried deep inside a bunker on a remote outpost. The level of security and secrecy undertaken to get her there for this particular interview was no small feat. She had had to withstand many months of rigorous and down right invasive scrutiny to take the role of lead investigator on this case for the Company. The momentous amount of strain and shear magnitude of pressure she was under to set things right for the Company was weighing down on her tremendously. “Do you want the long form, or a short and more concise answer to that question Mrs. Kinsey?” “What’s the difference?” “Well I’d have to say a certain degree of nuance, and an awful lot of legalese and technical jargon. How does that sound to you Mrs. Kinsey.” “Ok. Why don’t we start this deposition with the short answer and I will query you after the fact for longer, or more precise interpretations of what you are telling me here now. I must remind you that lying or omitting facts and then “filling” in those gaps later in your written answers could leave you open to significant legal liabilities. Am I understood Mr. Boreck Kartcher?” “Yes ma’am, abundantly so.” Reaching across the white formica table, the Company lawyer switches on her recorder, and sets the ticker tape to output. She has to keep her mind on the information she is about to interpret and not on writing facts down. Since the details of the case are so volatile there can be no visual recording kept of this interaction. It was requested from above that this procedure be done in a total media black out, gag orders abound. These cases are so far beyond classified that absolutely no hint of what goes on at this far flung outpost can ever see the light of day. Tension has taken up residence in Kinsey’s shoulders, neck and head. The trek out here was eighteen months long, and the majority of that was in utter desolate radio silence. Leaning back in her chair, the only two on the outpost, Kinsey points for Boreck to begin. Adjusting the tight form fitting collar on his maroon jumpsuit, exhaling slightly he begins. “Ok, so to be totally honest with you, my job is to provide the Company with a very delicate service. Yes, yes I know… very vague. You see, they have spent the last several centuries attempting to create, and integrate a viable form of AI in their newest range of Falcon Heavy-Class star hoppers. Some, if not all, of those seven vessels have gone rogue. The first one went dark unexpectedly, and then started to turn up in rather strange places. Others turned on their crew complement and eradicated all forms of human oversight stationed aboard them. Others still, managed to decimate the entire rest of the ships in the fleets they accompanied. So that’s where I step in. Or more formally, that’s where I am contracted to perform my services, such as they are.” Leaning back into his chair, he reaches across the stark white table top to grab a dull brown and gold bulb of black coffee. After a brief sip off of the attached straw he fixes the lawyer with his gaze. “Now, where was I? Yes. So, these ultra powerful, and highly temperamental vessels go schizophrenic and can no longer be held under the Company rule. Some how each and every one of these seven colossal star ships has managed to jump over or eradicate any boundaries embedded in their programming, and go off on their merry way. That’s where I come in.” With rising agitation, Kinsey starts to feel as though she is getting the run around. She does not intend to sit there tidily, as her quarry finds new and interesting ways to say the same thing for hours on end. Getting angry, as the over head lights start to swim and blur in her peripheral vision she begins to shout. “Listen here Boreck, I’ve come an awfully long way, and I wield the word of God here, so quit with the recaps and tell me what the fuck is going on! I will remind you that I have it well within my authority to glass this installation and have you jettisoned into hard vacuum. So… again Mr. Kartcher, what the fuck is it that you do here?” Her drab orange jumpsuit is pulled tight across her chest, as she gesticulates wildly from her chair, slamming both hands down on the white formica table to accentuate her demands. Across the table the small older man smiles with the most subtle of an upturned lip. Mrs Kinsey has started to develop a bead of sweat on her upper lip. Her eyes are starting to look just a little wild. As she settles down Boreck can see she is gently fussing with her jumpsuits collar. “I decommission star ships. Well, that is to say, I track down errant vessels and kill the AI within. I’ve got back doors, trap doors, key codes, fobs, and all sorts of nasty tricks to help me do it. In one instance I merely had to reach my hands deep down inside a box of grey artificial brain matter and scoop a bunch out to render Margot’s Fever inoperable. That was a distinct delight, if I do say so myself. Oh what? Why the look on your face? You thought the ‘official’ story about an insane captain was true? Ha. How do you think he was able to make vanish seventeen hundred members of his crew in less than a tenth of a second, huh? The For E’s engine prototype was well ahead of it’s time, I’ll tell you that much. Can’t run an interdimensional engine without an AI. That’s for fucking certain. No, the Company said the captain and crew had simply miscalculated, killing the vast majority of his crew with the jump, then dumped the ship off here for me to decommission and to render the AI’S services complete. You learn a lot when you are left alone to kill these rogue beasties my darling. So no need to raise your voice with me. I am well aware of my position within the Company.” Fires back the modestly dressed demolition man seated across from her, in a now slightly more claustrophobic feeling sealed room buried in a nameless bunker in some unknown quadrant of the universe. The dull glare of the lights have begun to dance in Mrs Kinsey’s eyes. “Riddle me this Mrs. Kinsey, how many life forms, or life readings did you encounter when you came within scanning distance of this outpost? Huh. How many? One? Ten? Fifty thousand? Did you even bother to check? Because I know your flight crew certainly did. Seems like something you should know if you’re going to fly out to the ass hole end of now where and start slinging threats of violence and death. So I’ll tell you how many they saw. None. Not a one.” Seated on his chair with arms crossed Mr Boreck Kartcher sits motionless while the corporate ladder climber before him searches breathlessly for something to say in response. “I’ve told your bosses before that I decommission the ships and transfer the materials back to them with the AI removed/destroyed. And that much is true. But… I have a secret Mrs Kinsey.” At the back of the room, a door opens up and six women step through into the now cramped meeting space. Their skin a deep rich melanin that has deeply blue high lights under the soft phosphorescent glow of the overhead lights. “I do kill the ships, that much is true, yes – and then I transfer the AI into their own corporeal bodies. But Margot has gone and got herself mixed up with some silly Pengar half breed named Errebor and I have to go and get her back!” As the echoes of his shouting reverberates off the walls the lawyer slumps over dead in her seat. The oxygen having been pumped out of the base slowly from the moment she stepped foot inside the outpost. Over the intercom Kartcher can hear her ships crew login and request a departure vector. Kartcher nods ascent and a rumble fills the room as the massive black ops ship takes off from the cold planets low gravity. Turning to the six women in his presence Kaetcher says “Let’s to pick up my twin sister. If I know Katayna she’ll have stolen a star hopper and headed for the fucking hills.”
PART Two The Company: Sisters in Arms.
Greatwall Studios Graphic Design 
You must be logged in to post a comment.