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Pakkrat

Net-7 News Lead Anchors [N7LA]
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Everything posted by Pakkrat

  1. Take it from one rodent, rabbits are not of the rodentia. They aren't rodents. But I'll let you have this one since it comes from a classic. Rabbits come from lapidae. There's attitude for ya. Live from Detention Center Onorom, this is the Pakkrat.
  2. A new sector with a pulsar would be cool. There are plenty of astronomy phenomena in each solar system to be found in the Earth & Beyond Storyline Resource document. Dyson Sphere, nebula, sectors filled with asteroids and planetoids, hollowed-out asteroids with gate inside, are just a few examples. A couple of World Gates are mentioned. These were gates that could be tuned to more than one other gate and are found in some pretty exotic and dangerous locations. Want more spoilers? Ideas are bountiful in the document and it's available to everyone in the Roleplaying sub-Forum. Have a look at over 500 pages of notes, storyline, charts, pictures, lists, descriptions, outlines and so much more. Then when you reach critical creativity mass, submit an idea. From Cartography at NET-7 SOL, this is the Pakkrat.
  3. Again, if I'm logged on, /tell the toon I'm playing and I'll get a Progen toon with the Progen Intelligence out to StarClipper Station and trade with you. This isn't rocket science and is Content we can share, player to player. Not all Content will be horsing around with NPCs, mobs, or having terminal sex. Live from Saturn's NET-7 SOL, this is the Pakkrat.
  4. Honor to the Shinwa!        Congratulations to Shinwa Defender Docdeath.  After some uncertain double-checking of Shepard sector, the Wolfsdottir was discovered (after being pushed) after two hours mission time at Redemption, the Freespacer station.  She had been hunting Scuttlebugs at an un-named capital hulk.  But she was pushed to Redemption causing uncertainty of her exact location.        Upon arriving at the reclusive compound, Defender Docdeath closed in on her even as the Wolfsdottir turned and ran.  Use of her Fold Space did not deter the Defender from hurriedly Psi Shielding the Kaojin and then reporting her x,y,z coordinates.  Soon afterwards, the Jenquai fleet arrived to remove the AWOL girl to Androzari Penal Facility in Menorb, Castor.  There the girl will hopefully be brought back into the fold of the Shinwa from the nihilistic Kaojin Destroyers.        Duty and honor, this is the hallmark of the Shinwa.   Stay tuned for next month's date for the Hunt For The Wolfsdottir.    From the Special Events department at NET-7 SOL, this is the Pakkrat.
  5. To add to the mystique of the graphics, a pilot can often hear sounds come from the asteroids as well.  Dirt asteroids grinding together, creature vocalizations.     Let's not forget the off coloration that may indicate that the target is inhabited by a pop-rock mob or may be a pop-rock alone.   Then there's what I call Treasure 'Roids.  Those gems advertise an above average yield of ores, but threaten to be a pop-rock.  Yet once mining begins, the asteroid yields exactly what was advertised.  Quite the treasure.   How about them pop-hulks and volatile gas clouds that explode too?  Been there, done that.  Have the hull dings to prove it.   Lastly, is the super-rare Anicent Artifact or 'aa' device that is found so seldom these days.   Yes, there is quite the adventure in mining.     Live from spinward Lagarto, this is the Pakkrat. 
  6. I copy-pasted this entry from another sub-Forum so as to be included in the dossiers list.   [spoiler] INFINITICORP - Bringing technology to you! InfinitiCorp Employee Name: 'Pakkrat' (birthname not submitted on hire, investigation pending) Employee Number: TT1298-4576 Position: Trader Gender: Male Homeland: Earth, North America Education: Standard (no meritus, advance placement, acheivements) Current work sector: Merchant Q-ship, location variable Details: Medical. The Pakkrat has recently been revived from a cryostasis coma of extended and estimated duration. Though restored to full health, psych eval has yet to reveal any mental damage. Small, unidentified puncture wound found on upper extremity and intruding to the humerus marrow. Details unknown (see file PA-44, encrypted). Scans cleared him of quarantine and fit for standard employee status. Personality. InfinitCorp standard with marked spikes of survival, greed, resourcefulness, and a blatant disregard for authority and chain of command. Label: Loose cannon. Recommend observation and passive career guidance. Independent and self-sufficient traits. Due to Medical (see above), employee is not recommended for promotion at this time. Presents a corporate security risk and flagged for such. Career. Pre-Gate War employee given standard education and pilot's license. Experienced in pathfinding new trade routes, ship maneuvers, and support skill use. Re-activated for Q-ship duties alongside trade running. Attention: Retirement pension is excessive given the employee's length of cryostasis. Interest accrued may exceed typical employee ranges. (See taxation forms W-2 or 1099 for further details.) Skillset. Though given plenty of opportunity to develop a craft, the Pakkrat has shown only an interest in Engines and excessive speed. His resume includes support skills that may aid in his new vessel's Q-ship transport design. Recommended for observation in groups for support efficiency. Corporation. Under observation by executive order. Permitted 'freelance' license enforced by his lawyer and contractual bylaws. Corp loyalty. Given his late revival from cryostasis, the Pakkrat's loyalty to race and employer is drastically reduced but may rebound with time. Until then, COO DeWynter has designated employee as "a loose cannon". Note: (Encrypted cypher Nidus^4.....decode DeWynter: rat.....Accessing: "I want this rat watched closely. If he even twitches a whisker wrong, the EarthCorps has permission to terminate the employee." -DeWynter )    [/spoiler]       
  7. Hail Shinwa Defenders and Sabine Sentinels!        March's Hunt for the Wolfsdottir is penciled in for the Saturday the 8th and can continue into Sunday the 9th.  Remember that to be relatively fair to all timezones, the Hunt can start as early as 6 a.m. Eastern U.S.  Last Hunt in February took under 30 minutes.  This time I hope to hide the target toon better.         Remember that only Jenquai Defenders and Progen Sentinels may participate.  /tipping the Wolfsdottir can be seen and by whom so don't push her into new locations.  This is for fun and something to do.  Note also that there are four equivalent ways to conclude a Hunt.  See above for details.        Note that there is a dossier with new pics in the Roleplaying sub-Forum.  See the above rules and Event details.        I have added another sponsor:  Jamoos Work Shop has graciously added awards to the pool alonside Pakkrat Industries and ShadowWalker's House of Pain.   Good luck!   From the Special Events department at NET-7 SOL, this is the Pakkrat.
  8. Get a grip with Agrippa! Collegia-backed Agrippa Technologies seeks to break the monopolies of InfinitiCorp, GETCo, Sundari, Nishido, BlackSun and others with their new line of prototype weapons and systems. Architechi instructors and other curriculum staff greet new students in the lounge hall of Nostrand Vor City, Nostrand Vor sector, Altair system. But this curriculum is not for free. Pilots need Silver Tokens to enroll. Worthy pilots are testing now. Ahh. Agrippa, my alma mater. I and many other pilots have engaged, wrestled with, struggled, attempted to fathom and even journal our trip down that rabbit hole. Though I have completed Agrippa Shields and Agrippa Devices on my Progen Sentinel and have gotten mired in the Gr- (not to be named) and Kenlz back door into the mission lines, the experience was worth getting the prints for the systems, weapons and ammunition. As a bonus, I was even given my own embroidered straightjacket and my own cell at Detention Center Onorom. For pilots who like random noise at night when they sleep, it's quite a stay. Progen Sentinels should start Agrippa by speaking to Architechti Scuti or Architechti Vasi at Nostrand Vor at around Overall Level 100 as it takes quite a while to crawl out of the Faction hole with the Collegia. That and it takes quite a while to whittle down your InfinitiCorp Faction as the Collegia Forgemasters are in contention with the Terran megacorporation. I hear, through others, that Progen Warriors should begin Agrippa Weapons as early as Overall Level 75. But no Progen class should try the front door to Agrippa after their Hull Upgrade 135 unless they want more headaches. Because the sector Der Todesengel is not yet opened, a mission for the back door into Agrippa is at a snag. Grr- and Kenlz, suspected of being Rogue Progen offer a means for "uber unz" to sleaze their way into Agrippa post-HU135, but at a high price that will only put high-tech weapons and valuable shinies in the hands of the Rogue Progen. I know because my Privateer is stuck in that mire. Should you be too squeamish for this mission line, there are plenty of manufacturing pilots who have earned their gray hairs who can make some or all of the systems for you. Live from Solitary Confinement at Detention Center Onorom, this is the Pakkrat.
  9. [attachment=2881:Scout Camhanach.jpg]This character is part of my story-toon cast but is strong enough to stand on her own after the opening of Aquitaine and its sector Ardus. [spoiler] Camhanach HYPERIA - Exploring the Galaxy Name: Cealleach Camhanach callsign: Daybreak Class: Scout Gender: Terran female Homeland: Bishopgate, New Edinburgh, though her parents emigrated at her earliest age to the desert world of Gamma Sulani, (Epsilon Sulani IV, home of the Frontier League colonies) Education: standard education, honors in propulsion engineering, advanced technology, Astrogation, Astrophysics. Doctorate in Probability and Statistics. Parents were minimally religious, stressing Cause and Effect awareness. Extra-curricular computing (suspect teenage hacking, see file TS-12) Assigned duty: Ardus Prime sector, Aquitaine Details: Medical. Born to a family of Scottish Highlands descent purported to stretch back to Earth's Stonehenge tribes, Scout Camhanach is of normal build and stature. No physical health issues detected. Lineage suggests possible crossover with Psionic bloodlines. Psych-eval found no presence of psionics at childhood. Retested at adolescence. Slight near-sightedness requiring correction; however patient refused corrective laser surgery. Corrective Astral Glass lenses option. Personality. Though given excellent opportunities at youth, subject has slight criminal record for illegal hacking. Her desire to probe many theatres of exploration, from cyberspace to deep space. (Label: Rebel teen.) To aid her exploratory lifestyle, subject shows favor for excessive speeds in any vehicle. Traffic citations record found, (terrestrial and orbital controlled space). She turned down employment with InfinitiCorp and accepted a Scout position within the GETCo - Hyperia partnership. Social. Though a rebel at youth, the subject has settled down and matured into a calculating and analytical perfectionist. Willing to work with other Terrans and somewhat with Progen. Marked apathy for her Jenquai counterpart, the Explorers. Skillset. Cealleach Camhanach has taken her youthful developed skills of computer system penetration, (see Hacking file THX-1138 -encrypted-), anomaly adaptation (see Nullfactor Field Application file NF-100 -classified-). Subject shows a marked desire for speed and breaking warp barriers and records. She is not known to sacrifice her Tech skills in favor of Scout-specific skills. Career. Subject has chosen to work for Hyperia despite offers from InfinitCorp and EarthCorps, stating that she prefers the rim systems and sectors. Spends her time surveying belts of asteroids for signs of the so-called Ancient technologies which puts her in direct competition with the Sharim, the Sha'ha'dem and the Sabine Order but without the religious fanaticism or sense of racial duty. Corporation/Affiliation. Her affiliation with Hyperia is healthy and she seems to enjoy working for GETCo's subsidiary to the extent that she is given the edge of Terran space and its colonies to explore. Not one to tap for corporate tasks of metropolitan sectors, (Label: Trailblazer). Loyalty. Upon interview, the subject expressed a dissatisfaction with the Ramirez Codes and the segregation of Terran Psis. Shows no fear of interacting with the Terran psionic phenomena despite the new discoveries of mundane Terrans infected with Landauer Syndrome. Willing to interact with the Psis peacefully, she knows she will not be easily welcomed by the registered 'Gifted'. Subject states she is willing to win their friendship over to GETCo despite the Ramirez Codes' mandates. Deeply despises the two outbreaks of Psionic Suppressions in Terran history. Secret Details: Majestic Group's PsiDev and its trained Psions (Psis who work for EarthCorps instead of registered InfinitiCorp workers at Xai Xai station in Aganju, 61 Cygni) suspect that the subject may also be 'Gifted' but so far leads have turned up no indications of psionic capability, (see file PSI-9101...Nova^9 encrypted...password? >enigma...accessing> "We know this Scout has Psi blood and their abilities as a Psi have yet to bloom. Watch her carefully. She may have to be sent to registry and off to the mines of Aganju if we can't have her." - PsiDev Director. (file HYP-451...Nova^9 encrypted...password? >sublimation...accessing> "This one, Psi-capable or not will not go quietly to be registered. We need her on our team, not some slave to InfinitiCorp should she bloom with the 'gift'. Take all precautions to keep this one safe from the Majestic Group of EarthCorps as well." -Loric de Grey) Role-play Tips: Camhanach can be played as a cross between Lara Croft and Tank Girl. She is intelligent and yet has a secret fear that she will evidence psionics despite her desire to befriend the strange Psis. It is this fear that will push her over the line and cross the mandates of the Ramirez Codes. Yet, by some miracle unknown to her, she will stay one step ahead of the Majestic Group and their Psions. [/spoiler]
  10. I partially agree that an MMORPG based soley on Content is 'unsustainable' when you make comparisons to the bigger games like EVE-Online, World of WarCraft and others. Yet, I don't believe that Content is the end-all, be-all of an online game. There are other things to do that have been put into the hands of the players that begin to approach the 'sandbox' style game. Here in Earth & Beyond Emulator, the task of re-specializing one's skill dots is put into the hands of the Progen Sentinel, not some mindless NPC somewhere that will re-purpose your toon for you in some cold menu that cannot lend itself to enjoyment. I came back to the Emulator to enjoy that social interaction that I began to suffer a deficiency in those big-name games. Because we are still small in player-base, we of need tend to be more polite to each other and work as a community to improve the play, story, interactions, immersion and our role-play skills. Let's face the baseline name: Massively Multi-player Online Role-playing Game. It seems, to me at the very least, that 'grizzled' (and I am quoting somebody here, you know who you are) gamers have forgotten the 'R' in MMORPG. Now, I don't expect players of pilots to be award-winning actors or artiste thespians, but I still enjoy immensely our small community's occasional flood into the [Roleplay] channel. Additionally, I enjoy bringing pilots the Net-7 News, leaked through me by the Developers and GMs. This level of play adds social interaction that grants a new level of immersion. I can only imagine if Uulidyian's [sic] project of class specializations will spark a round of social interaction between players and even between their toons in [Roleplay]. I hope so. Though I don't favor the Jenquai, I can call up a ton of topics of social interaction from that race. Back in EA Live, I started with a Defender and got a bad taste in my mouth. I did not like the guerilla warfare of the Defenders. Then I found the Terran Tradesman and fell in love with it. Mercantilism, capitalism, struggling to make that extra credit was both a game challenge but a source of personal, pilot pride. Lastly in EA Live, I came into my own as the Progen Sentinel. With it's myriad of storyline, rich class leaders and characters, and a skill-set, including Call Forward, I found it to be my home away from home. It presented the story conflicts of Man vs. Man, Man vs. Himself, Man vs. the Monster (Frankenstein Effect), Man vs. Alien, Man vs. another Human variation (racism), and Man vs. a godlike entity or being. This would be the many settings to provide much interaction with my fellow players. I pray to the Progen Progenitors (Jericho and Vita Theodora) daily that each newcomer player-pilot is also given to role-play interaction. In an attempt to bolster the 'R' in MMORPGs, I began writing. Being given a position in Net- 7 News was a godsend to this goal. Short stories, novels and the news brought new light to this decade-old game. With Content trickling after we went Live, could it have been the die-hard gamer, the uber-drop raider, the helpful builder, the Content guide, the Agrippa therapist, or the voice of the game, Net-7 News that kept us alive? It was all of those to their own extent and scope. I hope not to lose any of the above. I even went so far as to ask you, the pilots to submit dossier on your favorite toons so that I could tap those colorful characters and use them in my books. Have a look at the number of Views in the Roleplaying sub-Forum and see that story, player involvement, character development and character value (how much you like your 'main'), add weight to the 'sustainability' of the Earth & Beyond Emulator. Sure, 'grizzled' players (note I do not say pilot) will have their gripes about the play, the Content, and the negative interactions (KSing, spawn-camping, powerlevelling, etc., ad infinitum, ad nauseam, ad astra) and we all still log back online after 8 hours of sleep. I am proud to be playing the Earth & Beyond Emulator. We all see the long, volunteer hours of development, umpire-work, guild management, server troubleshooting and we are thankful to be so die-hard fans of the game. I feel that this game would not be the detailed challenge that we enjoy and appreciate without all the negatives to balance the positives. There is no EASY-button, no INSTA-Win technique. We work hard in this game to share in the thrill of victory and the agony of XP Debt, the uber-drops and the vendor-feed. I maintain that we are 'sustaining' the game we all love quite well. I have very little fear that we are doomed to quit the Earth & Beyond Emulator. Why? We don't compare our game to the big-name titles. There's no need to. We aren't in this for the profit of money. There's little reason to stand on the Gold Medal podium and say our game is the best. We're more than ten years old with a hiatus in forging the Emulator. I'd go as far as to say we are humble and grateful for this game. It's simplicity and lower-tech level means we don't have to go out and purchase the next generation of hardware just to be able to play it, (I'm looking at you, Chris Roberts' Star Citizen). To summarize, I believe that we Developers, GMs, Web crew, Portal crew, Net-7 Newsteam, Guilds, and general playerbase have sustained the Earth & Beyond Emulator without all the trappings the above article tries to provide as a quick fix to the market of MMORPGs. Live from Saturn's NET-7 SOL, this is the Pakkrat. (...*rattles cage door* Now where's my cheese, Master?)
  11. Congratulations to SithJD who found and captured the Wolfsdottir in a Psi Shield. The Shinwa are now escorting the AWOL Defender girl to Androzari Penal Facility in Menorb where she can be properly held in Lotus Blossom's tender accommodations. SithJD selected the DG weapon as a reward and 10 million credits. for astute and loyal duty to the Shinwa. The AWOL Defender was hiding in a crater near a nav tower on the surface of Risco Moon. Remember that there are four ways to win, none better than the others. See above for options. The results of how you wish to win can bring forth more roleplay if desires. The next Hunt for the Wolfsdottir is in March and remember that only Jenquai Defenders and Progen Sentinels may participate. Monthly Hunts will continue until the Wolfstottir levels up and beyond OL100. The Hunt for the Wolfsdottir is sponsored by Net-7 News, Pakkrat Industries and Shadow's House of Pain. From the Special Events department at NET-7 SOL, this is the Pakkrat.
  12. Amazing.  This should see more views if moved to the Roleplaying sub-Form.   From the Editor's desk at NET-7 SOL, this is the Pakkrat.
  13. The mobs you are seeking spawn a good 30k from the gates you are sent. Look for the spawning sparklies and continue to thrust until you reach the target mob. This mission is a low-level mission and can be Content as part of your toon's development. I wrote a Walkthrough for myself and recorded the experience. The downside is that it rewards GETCo Faction and that Faction is not on the PDA; which is a waste of reputation gain. From the situation room at NET-7 SOL, this is the Pakkrat.
  14. Cast of Characters for The Pakkrat Master Genome by Pakkrat The Pakkrat Master Genome Pakkrat Pakkratius Pakkrateus Progen Siobhan Doctrinaire Zyrith Sky Magister Tervanus "Wrecks" Rex Praenoman Laureth Vinda-K, Magna Vinda Magister Caius Hellstrom Joga Jenquai Reacher Wolfsdottir Ken'shao Joo Li First Emissary Merjan Kathrada Lady Ariad Ben Joseph ShadowWalker Vitaes Nervestrike Terrans Zona Mason Lady Paula Isabel DeWynter Psis Dr. Elijah Malacore, P3889 Vessels *Labyrinth Runner*(Earth hauler) *Labyrinth Runner*(Terran Tradesman) *Apotheosis* *Kitten* *Culler* *Maze Runner* *Warchild* *Rocinante* *The Implicate Order* *Andromeda* *Helldiver*
  15. The Thule Project - Acknowledgements by Pakkrat The irony of having my best writing come forth while I was supposed to be working in my cubicle was not lost on me. Every time I actively tried to write at home or anywhere else, there were interruptions and distractions. But these pains made finishing this book all the more sweet. Thanks again goes to the players of: ShadowWalker, thanks for coming back to us and shining again as a sounding board for Jenquai topics, helpful hints, and general game crunch. Vitaes, thanks for pushing me forward to finish the Pakkrat Master Genome trilogy. His advice and counsel concerning synesthesia again helped with his character's cameos in this final chapter. Thanks goes to Mynd, who published the Earth & Beyond Storyline Resource on the Roleplaying sub-Forum of the Net-7 Entertainment Forum. I delved often, even in mere curiosity, digging for more details to include in the paths of the characters in the stories. And a thanks goes out to all the readers of the Pakkrat Master Genome trilogy. Watching the number of views climb is a subtle but potent treat. I hope it sparked your interest in deepening your character(s)' stories. Fly safe!
  16. The Thule Project - Epilogue by Pakkrat The Battle of Kinshasa-Mbali was hushed by lots of money, warnings, and much disbelief at any rumors that escaped Aganju to parts beyond. Many ships on every front in addition to the EarthCorps were destroyed. Imperator Pakkrateus had to be Jumpstarted by Grandmaster Vitaes. The Wolfsdottir's ship was smoking and sparking but she had scored more than ten kills having lost count after that many. The deadliest fire had come from the precision beam strikes of the ex-assassin ShadowWalker, whose guerilla warfare tactics caught his foes off-guard. Dr. Pakkratius had run out of ammunition and so was forced to stop in the middle of the battle and Powerdown his ship, using the last of his reactor power. Swearing obscenities and prayers to Vita Theodora and Artemis Jericho to bring more ordinance next time, the Reporter for Net-7 News had to take a spectator's seat to the second half of the battle, beaming his friends with his various arcane devices and hindering as much as possible any enemies. In the end, the entire battle was written off by the Warship Genesis as a terrorist movement of Psi refugees from the sector with a battle to cover their tracks. The capital ship returned to its post at the command of the Republic. The Outlings in Aganju sector were wiped out, but it was guessed that the Menorg Swarm held countless more of the strange drones. InfinitiCorp's *Insider* took a temporary post above Kinshasa-Mbali Station until more EarthCorps security forces arrived via the system gate to Tau Ceti. The sector slowly picked up the debris, wreckage and salvaged derelicts where possible. Then life returned to normal business as usual. It was a month later that the Pakkrat, the Pakkratius and his clone brother the Pakkrateus were formed before the strange and unfathomable Continuum Wrinkle in Xipe Totec sector, under the white glare of the Sirius binary stars. With the Pakkrat Master Genome was the ShadowWalker, Siobhan, Vitaes and the Wolfsdottir. The Prototype Dark Matter Tech 9 Launcher was found fused solid under the wing of the *Labyrinth Runner* and no amount of small cutters could remove the malignant weapon. The Pakkrat fired the remaining ammunition, before all the witnesses, into the one-way universal exit of the Continuum Wrinkle. Then he lowered his shields manually, even in the harsh radiations of of the Dog Star, Sirius B. "Do it," called the Pakkrat to the ex-assassin, ShadowWalker. With the use of Tech 9 plasma beams, the Jenquai severed the entire wing of the Tradesman to float free of the fuselage, taking Cuinnit Dougal's weapon with it. Then with a collective, tractor-beam push by the remaining ships present, the launcher, relieved of its Ancient artifacts, was disposed of into the spiraling egress from the universe. Then all went to celebrate, de-fuse and take a much-deserved load off at Glenn Commission's Friendship 7 casino space station. Amid the reunion, the Terran progenitor came to full acquaintance with his Progen clone sons. Apologies for harsh words were exchanged between the Trader and the Reporter. The Pakkrat wheeled in Siobhan, who was recovering quickly thanks to Jenquai and Progen medicine and therapy. The Pakkrateus gently protested at this. Siobhan reached up to gingerly kiss the Imperator Privateer. "You will take me on dates." "On what?" asked the Collegiate. Eventually, Siobhan, known to the Pakktatius and the Pakkrateus as the First Sabura had to return to Enrdriago Planet to oversee the Sabura Warriors Project. There was much to teach the new genetic line. The field Reporter and Anchor-rat for Net-7 News, disgruntled at having lost the scoop of the decade, sat next to the Wolfsdottir at the bar in the lounge, his adopted daughter hugging him. He harumphed and sipped vodka as the teenage Jenquai girl smiled her fanged grin up at him. "Cheer up, dad." Next to the dad-daughter pair stood the silent and smiling ShadowWalker. The weapons crafter had tried his best to persuade the Trader to let him analyze the launcher to no avail. Soon the ex-Shinwa had to return to his business of making weapons out of Orsini Mining Platform. Vitaes had already received calls from Antares 1 of strange, solar flare activity that was reflecting off the frontier station's superstructure, causing a mirror-image mirage. He rushed off to study the strange phenomenon after saying his good-byes. Rather than go freelance, the Pakkrat went onward to apply to the Glenn Commission as a consultant to the Glenn Treaty and offered tours of Aragoth out of Friendship 7, the "next-door neighbor" to NET-7 SOL in adjacent Saturn, Sol. With the remaining credits already in his account, the Merchant Prince Pakkrat was able to pay for repairs to the *Labyrinth Runner*. Then it was back to business as usual, without the lethargic aroma of the Collegia's Aromatic Chocolate permeating his cargo hold. "A toast," announced the celebrating Terran Trader Merchant Prince Pakkrat. "To Earth-" "And Beyond," answered everyone else in the lounge raising their glasses.
  17. The Thule Project - Ch. IX by Pakkrat IX. *"Mistress, he can see us," warned Joga to her Lady DeWynter.* *"How is that possible?" asked the surprised DeWynter who stood up from her seat and marched to the bridge consoles where her secretary stood. "Our systems are top-of-line Jenquai, Terran and even Progen. He should not be able to see us."* *Rather than argue the point, Joga merely pointed at the Pakkrat's ship and the warning target reticle that indicated the **Andromeda** had been targeted.* Several things happened at one time and they converged upon Kinshasa-Mbali, the paired formation and by extension the cloaked, black capital ship *Andromeda*. "Do you see what I have targeted, Siobhan?" asked the Pakkrat who was cycling through the huge vessel, the Terran Psi (whom he assumed was P3889) and the multiple bogeys approaching from across the sector. "I keep trying, but I get nothing," answered the Warrior. "But I am starting to read incoming ships from all over, Pakkrat." "I think I just made a huge mistake," said the man in the Tradesman ship. Across the sector, ships of many different classes were converging upon Kinshasa-Mbali. Dark-like, silver ships of Terran Psi refugees turned as one, without communications and flew, in an attack formation, towards the InfinitiCorp Tradesman that had breached such a huge Ancient and thus psionic signature. Through their mutual telepathy, the Psis powered up what little offensive capabilities they could muster. On the far side of Aganju, the cybernetic psionic brains of the Outling drones, once Terran Psis themselves until the experiments that liberated the brain and stem from human flesh and encased them in cold machines, turned as one and began engaging the largest telepathic network. Via the Outlings' powers, the InfinitiCorp Drone Controllers mutineered and joined the individual Outlings themselves. The unspoken call to all Outlings to converge on the space station over Aganju Planet went out. *Psionic mind signature of unprecedented power detected. Liberate the mind and add it to our own. Liberate!* At the simultaneous formation of the Outlings, the local InfinitCorp trade ships, oft-misnomered 'Bruisers' tried to blockade the wave of modified and mutineer mining drones. A battle commenced but the numbers was clearly in favor of the Outlings. With the incoming Psis and their telepathic calls for aid, the Anseria, Terran terrorists who wanted to free all Psis, erupted from their hiding sites in the near vicinity of the orbital platform. Anseria craft of various classes flew to bolster the Psis numbers. Though not all Anseria were gifted with psionics, being mundane Terran freedom-fighters, they fell into wings and formations to respond. This in turn roused the patrolling EarthCorps security craft. Charged with keeping Aganju peaceful and under control of their InfinitiCorp contractor, the Terran fighters activated their Rally defenses and grouped into formations to respond. And still escalation continue to rise. With the activation of EarthCorps, the military arm of the Terrans in Aganju, the Progen Warship Genesis put out its call to heightened alert, summoning the embedded Progen spy ships in the various fields across the sector. Being the only visible capital ship in this part of space, the Progen were in no hurry or true state of emergency. Regardless, the long-sleeping systems of the capital ship were brought online once more. Via a bounced lasercom beam off Kinshasa-Mbali station, a call from COO Lady DeWynter herself contacted the sub-capital corvette, the *Insider*, and recalled it from the depths of a coreward field of expensive, high-yield ores. It was to return to Kinshasa-Mbali and defend InfinitCorp assets at once. The *Insider*, noting the lasercom beam, thus indicating that the Lady was present in-sector and in need of help, turned and made for the corporate platform. It was chased by another wing of Outlings. Simultaneously, a similar lasercom beam, again from Kinshasa-Mbali, recalled the InfinitiCorp paladin ships from their guardian posts over Xai Xai station, the funnel registration platform for Psi workers in 61 Cygni. They were to respond to the amassing Psi uprising crossing Aganju's north pole towards the station. In the far corner of the Terran sector, the sector stargate to Moto opened and flashed its temporary wormhole. Behind the small formation of Rogue Progen ships who had already left to respond to the Progen call, despite their difference of ideology, came two more formations of seemingly-random vessels. First to emerge from the opened portal were three Jenquai ships: two Sha'ha'dem Explorers and a Shinwa Defender. Grandmaster Vitaes of the Explorer ship *Rocinante*, called from the Antares Frontier to this place, said to his racial kinsmen, "I detect incredible concentrations of psionic energies, both at the station and from all over the sector." "I concur," added Grandmaster Nervestrike to the formation's leader. "There is a battle about to occur over more than one plane of consciousness and existence here." "Fire it up, boys," called the Ken'shao ShadowWalker in the lead position. Vitaes was first to identify his enemies from his friends. The psionic signature auras over every ship in the sector was visible to him in various colorful emanations. Though his chromesthetic synesthesia, he could tell friend from foe without having to target his weapons. He knew just by looking at them. All the Jenquai lit up their ships with Psi Shields and Environment Fields as they closed on the vectoring ships. This in turn aggravated the nearest wing of Outlings. *Additional psionic minds have arrived! Liberate all! Liberate!* The second formation of ships arrived through the Moto stargate immediately after the Jenquai formation. In the lead position of this new formation was the white, sailed Sentinel ship *Culler* of Dr. Pakkratius, Anchor-rat for Net-7 News. Beside him was his younger clone brother Imperator Pakkrateus in his Privateer's *Maze Runner*. He had been called from the moment the Merchant Prince Pakkrat had departed NET-7 SOL in Saturn. Third in the formation trio was the Jenquai Defender *Warchild*, piloted by Pakkratius' adopted Wolfsdottir. All three ships were already Repulsor Fielded and Psi Shielded upon entering Moto. The Sabine Doctor was seemingly talking to himself as he flew the formation forward towards Kinshasa-Mbali, "All the news from space, this is Net-7 News!" "How can you do the news at a time like this?" demanded his clone brother, the Pakkrateus. "Siobhan's in trouble." "Agreed, dad," said the young girl in the third position. "We hunt this day." All of the two formations of Jenquai and Progen exiting Moto had mustered in Endriago sector and had travelled at maximum freewarp through the battleground of 61 Cygni B, using the Navigation skills of Vitaes and Nervestrike, heedless of the gravity wells and the ongoing warzone there. Though latest to the sector, the two groups were present before the first shot was fired. From all over the small sector of space, a battle of true chaos was enjoined. At its core was a single Tradesman ship and a Warrior. DeWynter lasercommed the Pakkrat, "You just opened Pandora's Box, Pakkrat. You now know far too much and can only save yourself by doing one task for all Terran humanity. Joga!" "Mistress," answered her secretary. "Shut down all communications relays coming from or going to Kinshasa-Mbali on my authority. I don't want anything to get through. It seems Net-7 News is here as well." "No! This is unnecessary - this fight-" the protests of P3889 in the station was cut off by the authority of the InfinitiCorp COO. His fists beat on the transparent windows as a panicked look upon his face evidenced. His mouth kept shouting silently as the Pakkrat watched him from his position. All about the Tradesman, the Warrior and the black ship before him was a battle of more than eight Factions, each fighting anyone they saw as an enemy and for reasons none but him could truly understand. It was escalating faster and faster. "You have but one choice, rat," said DeWynter. "This battle. It's nothing compared to the carnage that will come. You learned this, haven't you?" "Pakkrat, no," cut in Siobhan. Though she could not see whom the trader was speaking, she recognized the voice as Lady Isabela DeWynter. "Don't listen to her, you still have a choice. This isn't your-" she was cut off by DeWynter. "Joga." In the time it had taken to kill the communications of the space station, the bulbous coverings had slid back from the hull of the black capital ship. Huge guns and launchers had been revealed. It took only five shots, a small volley, to silence the Warrior. Siobhan's ship exploded in an outward shower of weapons, unexpended ammunition, weapons, armor, hull, and fins. The ship went dark and was through-penetrated by five huge holes. Siobhan was gone. "Siobhan!" cried the Pakkrat. He targeted the *Kitten*, scanning it. "Make your choice, Pakkrat!" ordered the Lady with a firm voice. With the very-low signature of the huge vessel and the chaos of multitudinous engagements, it was unlikely anyone had seen the attack. But one vessel did. "A Centuriata ship has been downed," called the Warship Genesis. "All Progen craft engage!" "You bitch!" said the Pakkrat with tears in his eyes. "She was my friend." "Traders don't get to have friends, rat," explained DeWynter. "A few for millions, rat. Take the shot, Pakkrat! That is an order!" The Pakkrat knew exactly who she was indicating. P3889 was right there in the windows, banging on the glass in protest of the carnage outside the station. Only one weapon in the entire sector could hope to penetrate the Terran station's shielding and kill one Psi in favor of saving millions of Psis in the prophesied genocide. One life for many. Was it really that easy? What was the cost? Questions riddled the Terran as he pointed the *Labyrinth Runner* at the man in the observation deck. There was a wide-eyed surprise on the face of P3889 as the Pakkrat targeted Kinshasa-Mbali's lounge wing. At the ringing, in-range tone, the weapons came online. The trader took off the safeties of his missile launchers as one. Only one would truly penetrate, but it was enough to kill everyone in the observation deck. He paused as the greater battle all about him was in full swing. Outlings swarmed every ship that displayed any evidence of psionic behavior, whether it was mistaken by a Psi Shield over a non-psionic pilot, a Jenquai disciple of some sort, the masses of Terran Psis being evacuated from Xai Xai Station, the Psis pilots and their craft, and the two active Ancient Artifacts that resonated with psionic energy. All were, to them, candidates to be liberated and saved from InfinitiCorp and added to the Outling society of 61 Cygni B and the greater Menorg Swarm. To the cold, cybernetic machines, this was a generous boon that they sought to deliver to the enslaved Psi minds before them. Anseria freedom-fighters fought a losing battle against both the InfinitiCorp paladins, the dreaded *Insider* and the contracted forces of EarthCorps, who were only doing their job. Choosing to open a gap instead of winning a war, the Anseria sought to provide an escape route for the evacuating Psis out of Xai Xai. For the Alliance, yet another Psi-rights interest group, had been biding their time for just such a chaotic event. Their personnel transports pulled into the hangars and offered evacuation to the Psis, under the cover of impersonating InfinitiCorp emergency crews. With their holds filling with frightened Psis, (who could feel the onslaught taking place outside in Aganju), the Alliance tried to sing freedom songs to the younger Psis. *Fear not young ones, for home is near* *It lies between the Lost and the Forgotten* *Take heart for freedom and shed no tear.* *The holy lord comes for gifted men* *Sanctus Kyrie!* The Progen forces of Warship Genesis clashed with everyone, now that one of their honored Centuriata had been dishonorably shot down without provocation. They immediately took to a Kill All - Let The Reclaimers Sort It Out behavior. Any target that fired upon them was subject to the powerful guns of the capital ship. However, their Progen spy ships were hit hard at first by Psi ships, InfinitiCorp paladins and Outling Drone Controllers. The *Insider* kept thrusting for Kinshasa-Mbali, even as it was swarmed by Outlings and attacked by Anseria freedom-fighters. Though it downed many on its trudge to the station, it was mired by the carnage as fast as it could put out. "Nerve," called the ShadowWalker, "see what you can do about the *ahem* Centuriata at the base. Perhaps if we can get her Jumpstarted - if she's alive....." The Grandmaster broke off from the hit-and-cloak tactics of the Jenquai to begin warping to the downed Warrior. Her emergency beacon was still not lit, indicating that the pilot might truly be the first casualty of this insane battle. But emergency Jumpstarting, was the Sha'ha'dem Grandmaster's specialty. He had been partial to many a daring rescue in hostile territories. "Dot!" called the Pakkratius, "Cloak now! Those Rogue Progen mean business and they still hate Jenquai!" The Report winged his ship around to face off against his own kind, the rogues that had while refusing to be Reclaimed and serve the Republic, yet had sided with the Progen in this Terran theatre of battle. To them, the Jenquai were just another target. The Wolfsdottir cloaked her ship as her dad ordered, but stayed in formation with him regardless. The last strike to her shields had jeopardized her in her zeal to dance the Dance of Annihilation's call even if she had sworn off the Destroyer's lure. Pakkrateus in his *Maze Runner* was taking a pounding as his ship reached in all directions with a powerful Shield Nova. Energy lightning erupted from his ship to gain the attention of any 'enemy' that was too close for comfort. A lightning storm with his Privateer ship lit the sky causing all who had not the nerve to cut a wide swath around the nova. From cloaking, Grandmaster Vitaes, flew much higher in the Z-axis than most to pick and choose his targets wisely. Abhorring this violent conflict, he was no less entrapped within the theatre conflict of many against many. Whenever he saw a means to incapacitate a ship, he chose to fire his weapons from surprise. He took only incapacitating shots as he continued on to Kinshasa-Mbali which looked plagued with dogfighting ships all about it. The *Andromeda*, swarmed by Psis who could detect minds even if their scanners failed to target the huge, black vessel, let out only a few shots at a time so as to no spoil its advanced cloaking to the entire sector. Even so, the formidable ship's shields took hit after hit from insect-strikes from the Outlings, Psis, Progen, Anseria and any stray shots that missed their intended. Friendly-fire was everywhere as the night was crossed by beams, webs of projectiles and faltering missiles. Joga, at the weapons command post barked orders at the bridge crews as wings of tiny ships sped past the invisible flagship of Lady Isabella DeWynter. Though they were high-ranking security forces, EarthCorps had never encountered such a variety of targets. With the advance of the Progen, the rebelling Psis, the terroristic Anseria and the launch of the evacuated Psis at Xai Xai, the Corps were hard-pressed to cover all the targets at once. Though they sailed about aiding InfinitiCorp where the could, EarthCorps were not numerous enough to hold the entire tide from reaching Kinshasa-Mbali. The station was enduring hit after hit from stray shots from everywhere. Yet the station's shields held strong to the security forces' relief. *With but one shot,* thought the Pakkrat at the center of the conflict, *I can end this and save millions. Siobhan, help me.* The man in the windows who for a second was surprised that the white Tradesman had turned on him, adopted a new facial expression. P3889's arms dropped from striking the glass and he stood up straight. It was the first second, that the man had realized his own danger and accepted his new fate. In the next second, the man smiled a gentle and kindly smile at the pilot - at the Pakkrat. The Pakkrat's finger touched the trigger that would fire all of his launchers, including Cuinnit Dougal's Prototype Dark Matter Tech 9 Launcher. One life for many kept repeating in his head. But then the Pakkrat saw the calm upon the face of the Terran Psi in the lounge of Kinshasa-Mbali. A sane man at least would have run screaming for the next compartment, wing or superstructure of the station. But not this man. He stood there, staring gently at the Pakkrat. Was he suicidal or self-sacrificing? Was he aware of the sacrifice the prophesy dictated? The third second ticked. Time stopped for the Pakkrat. The battle outside his ship, outside the station stopped mid-fire. Then the Terran Trader's world went gray-to-white. A man stood in the field of grass. Trees in the perimeter of this park swayed to a gentle zephyr under the blue sky of what the Pakkrat guessed was New Edinburgh, Tau Ceti. It was a public park in the city of Bishopgate. Pakkrat had visited here once during the past two years. The park was empty except for himself and a man the trader saw as P3889. On the grassy ground was an array of hundreds - no, it must have been thousands - of chessboards and game pieces. The trader sat, in the same position he was as if he had never left his cockpit bridge of the *Labyrinth Runner*. The Terran man tried to move and discovered that he could. Standing up from a park bench and releasing the (imagined?) controls of his ship, the trader walked toward P3889. The Terran Psi turned to see the Pakkrat approaching. The Psi was wearing a silver buckled, white jacket. Standing next to a chessboard, P3889 gestured for the man from North America to join him. He had the same smile as in Kinshasa-Mbali. P3889 was considering the chessboard before him when the Pakkrat spoke to his own amazement, "Is this your game?" Smiling, the Psi answered, "They all are. Greetings, Pakkrat. I am not what you see before you." "Then who are you?" asked the incredulous trader. He looked down at as many of the chess games as his field of vision would allow. "I was Dr. Elijah Malacore," answered the man beside him, "or I will be or am now. It matters little. I too opened a Pandora's Box myself. You know me in your time as P3889, the registered Terran Psi. But I was much more before, during and especially after that." The Pakkrat felt the mental gravity of what Malacore had just said and decided to go back to the games on the grass with, "Who is your opponent? Are you playing alone, against yourself?" "Oh no," answered the representation of Dr. Elijah Malacore or P3889. The Pakkrat could not decide which yet to identify him. "That would be a waste of my purpose, goals and ego." "Then who?" "Questions, questions," noted the Malacore Consciousness, for Pakkrat was beginning to intuit the details of this encounter faster and faster than even he believed possible. It was as if the entity before him were making him more and more capable of understanding this exchange - this communion. "Last question then," declared the Pakkrat. "How about I shut up and let you do the....talking - or whatever?" "Wiser too," observed the entity before the trader. Then he began his tale in the form of images and telepathic phrases. The planet was Earth. *My first human life was being born to Dr. Carolyn Malacore, 1987 Common Era in Buenos Aires, Brazil.* The pregnant woman stood on the balcony of a penthouse, looking up into the night's stars. Then the light of the exploding Great Magellanic Cloud arrived. She witnessed it directly. His 'mother' collapsing to the floor, the Malacore Consciousness allowed itself to be gestated and later born to human life. *I have lived quite a few human lives since that day.* Lives lived flashed past the perception of the Pakkrat. Then, as Elijah Malacore, the Terran Psi, Pakkrat saw the entity grow and live as one of the indoctrinated 'gifted'. Through the lessons learned from the First Terran Psionic Suppression, humanity tried to co-exist with the strange and different. The psionic humans. Through the Ramirez Codes, laws enacted to teach the mundanes to live side-by-side with the gifted, the future Psis were taught from very early age that they were special. *We were taught that in trade for our 'gifts', that we should serve the new Terran Alliance with our powers as part of our civic duty.* There were times where change was resisted. Psis died or were tortured. But additionally, there were events where Psis were a great boon to Terrans. Eventually, by manipulating the Ramirez Codes, InfinitiCorp sheltered the oppressed Psis under its mega-corporate wing in exchange for use of the Psis' abilities. The segregation that occurred between them and the mundane Terrans buffered the violence for a time. But then the corporation began to put the Psis in increasingly dangerous work environments. With their dwindling rights being whittle away, *we became indoctrinated slaves to InfinitiCorp*. Flashing forward to the Crystal Age, Psis now worked in 61 Cygni with their special abilities. With the dangerous environments of the Aganju mines, lava covered planets, and seeking warded Ancient ruins, the Psis began to wonder if they would ever be free to decide their own fate. *I tried the passive-aggressive and passive-resistant modalities of your Mahatma Gandhi.* Elijah Malacore attempted to soothe and calm the protests. Violence was not the way. *I tried to speak of non-violence as did a Dr. King Jr.* Yet more and more the mundanes assumed the Psis were less than human, apart from the *homo sapiens* genus-species. Segregation was only causing mundane Terrans to look across the fence at the gifted and the distant Jenquai. *You see, we perceived, conceptualized and had different realizations from mundanes.* Forward into time, past Pakkrat's presence in the Crystal Age, the trader saw the exodus of Psis from the oppression of Terran mundanes, the enslaving InfinitiCorp and the invasion of the aliens - *They call themselves VR3X. You have encountered them.* War, destruction and ignorance only fanned the flames of atrocity incurred upon the Psis during the V'rix Invasion. But one hope, one haven remained. *It was we Psis who were able to calibrate the quantum silk for refining and embedding into the InfinitiGates once the technology was unlocked.* The Pakkrat remembered in his own implanted vision. Amah, the Progen hero, seemed to recite *"...FOR THIS I BLAME THE PSIS."* The Malacore Consciousness seemed to nod its entity head. *Many will blame us for what we were forced to do by our oppressors.* The underground egress of freedom continued until there was a grand exodus in the heights of the alien invasion. The Psis migrated, against InfinitiCorp policy to Sanctus Kyrie system in the same constellation as 61 Cygni. Settling a new planet they founded a new society of gifted Terrans. Then came EarthCorps, who were not going to let such an asset get way so easily. *They invaded Sanctus Kyrie.* Though the Psis were increasing in their powers and awareness, EarthCorps in their secret labs had prepared for this Psi uprising. Fear of Psionic Ascendance was foremost on the minds of the Majestic Project deep in Aquitaine forest moons. Just before the warships engaged the tiny Psi fleet, EarthCorps released the neurovirus that infected the Psis by their own psionics. Mind after mind, over the entirety of the planet within hours, Terran Psis -by their own perceptions - were burned from the inside out. First was confusion, then came madness and then death. Finally the psionic wails decimated more than twenty million souls on Sanctus Kyrie. Only those that were able to consciously shut off their mental connections, their psionic awarenesses, were spared the initial wave of the neurovirus. *Now, I was by this time dead. Poisoned and later killed by the V'rix.* The Malacore Consciousness was present for the genocide. It heard the death-wail of millions and took in all of that psionic energy. The consumption forced Psionic Ascendance upon the man that was once the peaceful Dr. Elijah Malacore. It turned him into an angry, sorrow-filled being. It was no surprise to the Pakkrat watching the play of events that the Malacore Consciousness lashed back in vengeance. With a grand pulse of psionic energy, every EarthCorps ship crew, marines, and command was slain in the wave. Death and karma were good friends that day. *But your 'prophecy' was wrong that it was the end of the Terran Psis.* Not all were slain by the genocidal neurovirus. *We lived on and slowly recovered.* After their "holy lord", the Malacore Consciousness, delivered them and shut down the system gate to Xango sector, *I took to the black depths to deal with the dark entity I had become.* But ever afterwards, no Psi communicated through the vocal chords again in reverence of their deliverance and liberation. The Malacore Consciousness sailed the universe, so powerful was its Psionic Ascendance. *It was not the Ascendance of certain Jenquai ambitions, but I had little leverage to argue.* Via its immense ability to perceive itself, the universe even the space-time continuum itself, the entity in its explorations looked backward in time along causal lines of why things had become as they had. It wound back through the entirety of humanity's history and saw more causal lines stretching back before the first *homo sapiens* arose. *I was witness to something forbidden. The Ancients were leaving our universe. But their subordinates, the Greys or Israfel stormed the gates of the Ancients in protest. You might call them *asura* or fallen angels or whatever your mind can handle, Pakkrat.* The Malacore Consciousness was witness, though not present to the final battle where the Israfel were defeated and imprisoned within a supergiant star that then went supernova. The blast from inside the heart of the Great Magellanic Cloud caught the awestruck entity and continued onward through time-space, arriving at Earth in the year 1987 C.E. The tremendous energies shredded at the Psionic-Ascendant Malacore Consciousness. A chunk of the powerful being was blown outside time and space yet still maintained contact with its remaining shards. *This is why I can be anywhere and any time I choose.* In its damaged state at having seen angels battle gods, the Malacore Consciousness withdrew to the span of humanity's timeline and began chronicling human history. It created the Index, a set of crystals that when viewed showed desired human chapters. To maintain the Index, the entity partitioned the remaining shards of itself into Librarians, watching over the Index. "That does not answer why I am here and what I am doing with a gun to your metaphysical head," interjected the Pakkrat. *Having viewed their defeat and shame was too much for the Israfel to accept.* They continued to reach out from their prison. One does not descend to mortal lives, even once and then dare to witness the fall of angels. Israfel on occasion managed to escape and meddle with humanity in its early development. They tried in Egypt, at Stonehenge, in China and even to the primitives of North America. But twice did they meet poor endings at the hand of man. Having fended off visiting Greys, man chose to create a body of learned men who would remember these visitations and defend the Earth from all threats. Thus the Shadow Cabinet, later infiltrated by the Greys - the Israfel - to find and destroy the Malacore timeline, even as they continued to 'defend' all humanity. By the time the limited battle was enjoined by the Israfel and the Malacore Consciousness, limits on maneuvers were already in place. *You see, time-space is inviolate, lest we destroy each other, humanity, the V'rix, and everything in this existance - all existances.* Paradox was mutually-assured destruction, un-writing all involved. "Those are your opponents in the park, the bad angels," said the Pakkrat. *They aren't bad. They're just not ready, even as I am not ready.* The park returned or the two returned to the park. The human man could not decide which was true. The pair stood before the chessboard among many chessboards. "You have way too many opponents," noted the Pakkrat. *Tell me about it. All the moves concerning you are on just this chessboard, Pakk.* The trader looked down at the board. The game was clearly in the favor of the opponent or opponents of the man beside him. Only one move was left on the chessboard, checkmate. Malacore was the 'king' and Pakkrat came to the conclusion as to his role being the dangerous, opposing 'rook' that was to seal the deal. "Why haven't you lost yet then?" asked the trader. *You haven't pulled that trigger, Pakkrat. But since I and my opponents cannot rob you of your free will, we mutually agreed to let you make the final move. You can pull that trigger and kill me. More than twenty millions lives will be saved to continue slaving away for InfinitiCorp forever. You would then be a hero to have stopped the Battle of Kinshasa-Mbali and your DeWynter will pay you far more than 161 years of back pay. The system gate to Xango will never be completed and Sanctus Kyrie will remain a dream of the Psis rather than a true hope.* *Or you can spare me - my human self - and history will play out with much suffering, but also far more hope for the future.* The Pakkrat paused to ask a question, but never voiced it to the Malacore Consciousness. Instead, he posed a different question, "How do I know you have told me the truth, showing me instead what you want me to see?" *That is easy.* The man that was Dr. Elijah Malacore gestured wide in a sweep of his arm. Humanoid forms, shadowy-gray in color with folded wings crouched facing each chessboard, each considering their next move on their respective match. *They consented to let you make the move if I was truthful in telling my story. Any falsehood on my part would break the Free Will clause in allowing you here.* "Are those the bad angels?" asked the Pakkrat. *Think of them a representation that your mundane mind can handle, Pakkrat.* "What about the Thule Project?" asked the human to the entity. *This game? You want the replay? It began with the Greys who made a move to destroy my timeline to wipe out the opportunity to become what I am now. I countered by sending the dreams to a Dr. Cuinnit Dougal. The Greys then input their move to have the weapon hopefully stolen from the researcher. Escaping with his life, he sent the load-out away. I helped him escape, defecting to GETCo. I did not help him forge another prototype despite the Greys' attempts to provide another artifact. The Greys tried another move to counter me. They, through the Shadow Council, sent the nav-disc to your friend, the Finn.* "Did you send the comet then to counter the attempt to steal the weapon from me?" asked the Pakkrat. *Neither the Greys nor I saw the comet coming, Pakk. I am sorry you were caught in something neither opponent could foresee or prevent. It is a testament that you chose to survive. I congratulate you on that.* "The Progen?" further probed the trader. *A failed move on my part to regain the weapon in time to use to stop Amah from using the Appian Codex to alert the V'rix. I thought that the Warthog might rescue you and take you back to Progen space to bring you closer to the Centuriata hero.* "But that didn't happen," noted the Pakkrat. *The Greys then devised a plan by tapping a member of the Shadow Cabinet, Lady DeWynter, (don't ever let her know you are now aware of her), to recover the weapon and its Ancient artifact mate.* "Finn's dying confessional?" *My move, as was the journal of the researcher, Dougal.* "Amah's mention of you being the key?" *That was a tricky move on the part of the Israfel because they had to speak through her, augmenting her normal, allowed responses. She's now the property of the V'rix.* "The moves just kept trading shots, like in chess, right?" *Now you begin to understand.* "But Siobhan's now dead, thanks to your match," sighed the Pakkrat. *Another move of the Greys'. When subtlety fails, the whip became necessary to stop your rational mind and pull on your heartstrings.* Malacore gestured again, this time back to the park bench where the man from Earth had entered. The two went to seat the Pakkrat. Gently placing the Terran's hands back on the physical controls of the *Labyrinth Runner*, the entity then stepped back, again smiling that gentle smile of both surrender and a knowing satisfaction. "I'm not going to remember much of this," said the Pakkrat as he leaned back into the remembered cockpit seat, "like a fading dream." *Remember as much of it as you care to, Pakkrat. We will not meet again, save through the implicate order if you consent.* As one, the many opponents of the Malacore Consciousness stood up and screamed, flapping their wings. Gray feathers flew everywhere as the human's vision field went gray-white. "TRANSMISSIONISTRAVELLINGATSPEEDSGREATERTHANTHESPEEDOFLIGHT" The Pakkrat heard sounds before his eyesight registered blurry shapes. His sense of touch intervened before his eyes could focus. "Warrior," said a Jovian-accented male over the group lasercoms, "I am Grandmaster Nervestrike. A moment and you will be safe and your ship active again." The man's hands registered the hand controls. His right index was still on the weapons trigger. The tension on his grip was almost enough to fire all the missiles from the *Labyrinth Runner*, including the Prototype Dark Matter Tech 9 Launcher and its dark ammunition. Finally, the Pakkrat's vision sharpened on the Terran Psi ahead of him. P3889 was still smiling gently at him with a knowing expression. The dream unpacked itself in his head a second later. "Did you hear me, Pakkrat?" screamed Lady DeWynter. "Take the shot!" It took a concentrated will to carefully remove his finger from the trigger, his hand from the control. He whispered to himself, "No." "What did he say, Joga?" asked DeWynter to someone off the comm monitor. "This game is a draw," said the Pakkrat to the man before him. "The only winning move is not to play. This isn't my load of karma to deal with." "He's rambling, Mistress," said a deep female voice. With his left hand on the rudder stick, Pakkrat turned to face the invisible capital ship that only he could see. Recognizing the hazy outline of the black vessel's hull as a cloaking field, the trader began thrusting toward the bridge. "Mistress, he is moving on an attack vector." "Pakkrat, just what do you think you are doing?" Streaming plasma bolts streaked across the hull of the sleek capital ship between the bridge and the *Labyrinth Runner*. Still the Tradesman closed in on the bridge. "You killed her," said the Pakkrat. "Mistress, he has a lock on us, here in the bridge." "You insubordinate rat," called DeWynter. "I could destroy you in a single volley. Finish the Thule Project!" "You won't destroy me and the weapon with me," answered the trader from Earth. "And you have forgotten that I can target any part of your ship while you can only destroy me outright." "Mistress!" called Joga. Alarm bells rang out that the Pakkrat was in range of the bridge. "That's the whole thing about 'Thule'," continued the trader. "Perfection, in oneself, in a weapon that begs to be used, or a perfect haven or heaven. It's right in front of you and yet you cannot grasp it. Sailors tried to attain Thule but settled for less. This weapon is only perfect as the hand that fires it. And the Ancients are a poor substitute for angels to reach for, is all." "You are fired, rat!" yelled the COO of InfinitiCorp. "It takes a man to use a weapon," said the Pakkrat seemingly ignoring DeWynter's decree, "but it takes a better man not to use a weapon." "Did you hear me, you idiot?" shrilled DeWynter. "You are fired! Joga, have EarthCorps arrest this fool." "The EarthCorps contingent has been wiped from the sector, Mistress," reported the Progen woman. "You can't fire me, DeWynter," said the Pakkrat. "I quit." His finger paused over the missiles trigger once more. Over the group lasercom came the weak but familiar voice of Siobhan. "Pakkrat." On the monitor appeared the Progen warrior-woman. She was sitting up with the help of a strange Sha'ha'dem Jenquai man. Her armor had been removed and her black jumper was shredded. But various Jovian first-aid foams and bandages had been administered to her by the Grandmaster. "I'm alright." Tears welled up in relief as the battle raged on about the capital ship. Calls and flight maneuvers went on as he smiled to Siobhan. Explosions lit up the night sky outside Kinshasa-Mbali. "You just surrendered all of your back pay and insurances, rat," grumbled Isabella DeWynter. The Pakkrat looked out the front viewport of his ship, across to the black ship's bridge. There stood the regal Lady Isabella DeWynter. "When," asked the man from North America, Earth, "did you start believing this was about money?" Before she could reply, Pakkrat cut off the COO of InfinitiCorp. He guessed it was the first in a long time anyone had done so. It felt good. Siobhan was going to recover. Of course she would, he told himself. She's Progen and a tough nut to crack. She smiled at him at his final response to DeWynter, his former boss. Backing away from the huge capital ship, the Pakkrat re-formed the pair. Aiming the two ships, (hers being mostly repaired by the responding Grandmaster), at the space between Lost Point and Forgotten Point, he engaged the warp drive. As the ship's warp cone charged, the trader flipped the huge, black ship the 'bird' with his middle finger. Then the two shot for the system stargate to Xango on the far side of the sector. "Pakkat?" asked the warrior. "Hmmm?" responded the trader. "That gate isn't finished." "Yes it is." Over the local, sector broadcast the Pakkrat sang the nursery rhyme to the stargate seemingly buried in megatons of scaffolding, equipment and repair robots: *Fear not young ones, for home is near* *It lies between the Lost and the Forgotten* *Take heart for freedom and shed no tear* *The holy lord comes for gifted men* *Sanctus Kyrie!* It was a song the Pakkrat had heard Psis sing when they were at their unhappiest. Child-Psis had sung it in the halls of stations as their parents led them away from mundane Terrans. From inside all the construction structures answered the stargate with its opening. Before the stargate as the paired formation slowed to initiate gating were five escaping personnel transports of the Alliance. They too knew the secret long held by the Psis who had been ordered to construct the path to Xango sector, Sanctus Kyrie system. All the ships which had shared in the song disappeared from 61 Cygni. "How did you know?" asked Siobhan as they entered a strange and new frontier. "I had a little dream," answered the Pakkrat.
  18. The Thule Project - Ch. VIII by Pakkrat VIII. *Under the cover of its advanced stealth capabilities, the **Andromeda** again trailed the Tradesman and the Warrior as they left Lagarto sector. The two took the longer path from Gallina system, through Aragoth.* *Lady DeWynter had to check herself and her patience as the two stopped overnight at Friendship 7, the Glenn sector casino space station. No doubt, the Pakkrat and the Praefect were enjoying the Glenn Commission facility's tourist-trap distractions as they stayed. DeWynter did not dock her black and stealthy capital ship. The **Andromeda** was not supposed to exist and nobody outside its crew ever would know.* *"Joga," DeWynter called to the nearby Progen female.* *"Mistress?" the telempathic woman came to attention.* *"When we get to Aganju behind the rat," began DeWynter, "I will want your help in dealing with him to get this task done. As for the Warrior...you deal with her. Use the ship's guns if you have to."* *Joga grew grim and was soon a stoic statue as she nodded, "Acknowledged, Mistress." She then went to a weapons console crew member to prepare per the Lady's orders. * "From what I understand of these Sha'ha'dem Jenquai," told the Pakkrat to Siobhan as the two walked from the hangar to the main commons lobby of Paren Station the next day, "is that they don't like either Terrans and Progen much less." Siobhan folded her lightly-armored arms in front of her as the Pakkrat advised her. But she nodded to give the trader his say. "So let me do the talking and try not to be so martial, Siobhan," continued the Terran. The two had flown most of the next day through Beta Hydri and Sirius solar systems, after basking in the hospitality of Friendship 7 and the greater Glenn Commission. Now fully into the Capella system and deep inside Jenquai space, the two began to feel the eyes of the xenophobic race watching them as they plied the spacelanes. Pakkrat had spent a full half-hour trying to wrest the two Anicent artifacts from the prototype Dark Matter launcher as if it refused to be parted with its betrothed device. When he got nowhere with the connections, Siobhan had the strange, orange-gold frames and their respective crystals off in under five minutes. Thus, the two were well and ready to head inside and speak to the Jenquai researcher, Ayako Ravenlock. Pakkrat held both of the 'aa' devices as if they were twin offspring. Asking about for a short bit netted them directions from a Jenquai man who was willing to speak to the pair. Ayako Ravenlock, the woman in the very back of the lobby of Paren Station seemed almost hidden as the two approached. She was shorter and seemed older than Siobhan and she wore wire-framed glasses. The elderly woman was scrolling through a personal data-tablet when she was interrupted by the Pakkrat. Before the trader could speak, the Jenquai woman's initiative addressed him first, "Do you have my notes, young man?" Then she looked up and saw the tall Terran in an off-white trench. "Oh," she said. "I should have known." Before the trader could fully throw a pitch to ask Ravenlock to identify the two, framed devices, she was stepping up to him and adjusting her lenses at the crystals inside their frames. The Pakkrat was caught off-guard and could only look back at Siobhan who shrugged at him in return. "Most interesting," noted Ayako to herself, "Ancient artifacts to be sure, certifiable too. Hmmmm." The elder continued to look at each device from different angles as the Pakkrat continued to hold them. "Yes, well this one is an Ancient Artifact Gamik An Ne and the other an Ancient Artifact Uhtag An Ne. Most rare." The Pakkrat wondered at the Jenquai. Even after two years out of the freezer, he could only be continually amazed each time he had to deal with even one of the strange and mystical race. Ayako looked up at the tall Terran and asked hurriedly, "And just what where did you find these two, hmmm? What are you going to do with them? Why a Terran? No, wait. Don't answer that. I'll get it." She lowered her glasses to the tip of her sharp nose and stared hard and directly up at the Pakkrat. Pakkrat felt scrutinized by his mother or an evil aunt for having his hands in a dessert dispenser as Ravenlock bore into him. Inexplicably, he felt guilty for bringing her the two crystals. Then the Jenquai woman broke into a tirade, "This is an outrage! You would merge the power of the Ancients with a Terran weapon! Barbarian! Out. Out! Give up war and your InfinitiCorp, mercantile warmongering! Out before I call security." "Ma'am, I assure you-," the Pakkrat backpedaled. The elder woman had done some Jenquai psionic thing to him, he assumed. He had heard that the Jenquai race had openly developed psionics, but in the two years since the comet rescue, the trader had never been subjected to the gifts of psionics. He was about to tell his side of the story when Siobhan grabbed him from behind, spun him and marched him towards the front door. "Let's go, Mr. Rat," said the Warrior who, though significantly shorter, herded the trader who tried to pick up the pieces of the failed encounter with Ayako Ravenlock. But Siobhan was having none of it as she pushed him back toward the docking bay doors. "Don't even try your Terran Befriending tactics, trader," she warned. "The Jenquai out-class you mentally by far." They passed the Jenquai man who had pointed the pair to Ravenlock. He watched with a wry, knowing smile as the pair left the lobby. Then the man turned to head into the lounge section of the space station with a purpose. Siobhan pushed the Pakkrat into the hangar before he regained his balance enough to turn on her. "Why did you stop me?" he asked. "You were getting nowhere," answered Siobhan, "but I was listening while you were displaying the artifacts." Pointing to their docked vessels, the Warrior added, "We got their names and that's enough to run our own search through a friendly database; but for now, we leave. Ancient artifacts are too rare to just carry about, especially here in Jenquai space. Let's go, before some Sharim Ahzmundi tries to purchase them off you. It's your turn to get us some real information, Terran." The two exited in their vessels from Paren Station. * * * "She actually said 'warmongering'?" asked the black-clad, ex-assassin. The Jenquai man stood at the galactic net terminal onboard Friendship 7's casino, receiving a masercom communication from Dahin sector, Capella. His name lost to a painful career, he was known only as the ShadowWalker, now an upper-echelon weapons crafter. His black armor reflected the holographic image of the informant who had placed a call to him. "And what's better," said the Sha'ha'dem man, Grandmaster Nervestrike by translation from Jenquai dialect, the same person to point out Ravenlock to the trader and the warrior, "He was carrying Tech 8 Ancient artifacts, two in number." The ex-assassin added the description of Ayako Ravenlock's encounter with the couple with the unearthed relics. Two devices that she felt were contributing to weapons could be quite useful. He was considering the possibilities the aa Gamik and the aa Uhtag devices might serve when he felt a gentle tug on his belt from behind. "Don't move, assassin," said a rich, Martian-accented male behind him. Shadow froze but his mental psionics reached out and instantly identified the Progen man's mind behind him. "There is a very caustic chemical grenade on your belt and I have a finger in the pin," warned the Pakkratius, the Anchor-rat from Net-7 News. "You're going to listen to what I have to say....." * * * "I thought you got some sleep at Friendship 7," said the Pakkrat as the pair again traveled across Beta Hydri solar system. "After dinner, you read that whole thing?" he asked, indicating the leather bound journal of Dr. Cuinnit Dougal. "Pakk, the Progen race have been genetically engineered to require less sleep," explained Siobhan as the pair traversed Carpenter sector. "We also require less food, though the ample dinner you purchased for us was new to me. I am beginning to like Terran tastes in diet. If I choose, I can work 48 hours with only a few breaks in the task at hand. Besides, I was bored and wanted to learn more about our situation." The trader had listened to Siobhan paraphrase what further details she had read that night at the casino space station in Glenn sector. Siobhan had learned that after his defection from InfinitiCorp, the researcher had tried a second time with the aa Uhtag device provided by GETCo. The Good Earth Trading Company had tried to provide Dougal the means to replicate his notes. After two failures and very little of the original sample of dark matter left, he became deranged at this visions' portents. Throughout his notes, Siobhan noted, the man became obsessed with providing the single weapon, now lost to a trader's hauler, that could stop a genocidal conflict between two Terran groups by the destruction of Amah, a seemingly unconnected person to the Terran events. "He detailed a great disease released by one side of the conflict to wipe out Terran Psionics in one great epidemic on a planet," recalled Siobhan. "But Dougal did not know where or when this would happen." "Who would try to wipe out that many Terran Psionics?" asked the Pakkrat. "From his description and impressions, Dougal thought it was a Terran military trying to quell some sort of uprising by the Psis of a grand scale." "Uncool," said the Pakkrat. "Terrans wiping out their own. No wonder Dougal was becoming unhinged in trying again to make another launcher." "At Dougal's last failure," recalled Siobhan, "he stole the second Ancient artifact and left for deep space with the Freespacers, which is why we found him entombed. He lived out his days, haunted by the dreams." "Which only adds to my feeling that we're being played, Siobhan," agreed the Pakkrat. "I don't believe that Cuinnit Dougal was some dream-prophet." "Neither do I. His journal seems too detailed to be just some random Terran dreams. I think a greater psionic event was being used upon the researcher." The Pakkrat digested this new information and nodded to himself, "We really need to stop somewhere and analyze the names of these Ancient artifacts now that we have their names." "I concur," said Siobhan, "but where? Orsini Mining Platform is co-owned by InfinitiCorp and I hear rumors that there are less-scrupulous elements there. We cannot risk stopping at Somerled Station lest COO Lady DeWynter discover what we are about." "I have a back-alley idea then," answered the trader from Earth. "We'll go downtown." "Down-what?" The Pakkrat explained by saying, "Inverness Down may be a forgotten wreck of an upper-atmosphere station, but since it's run down and neglected by InfinitiCorp, it will be ideal to stop before heading to see this P3889 in 61 Cygni. It has an analysis terminal there and we can hide right under DeWynter's nose. The administrator there hates her anyways." "I have never been there," admitted the Warrior. "It's right up my alley," said the Pakkrat. "It's got lots of junk nobody will miss." "You can be occasionally very strange for a 200-year old Terran, Pakkrat," teased Siobhan. "Oh! I just remembered," perked the trader. "Tomorrow's my actual birthday. I hope there's enough cake to put that many candles upon it." "I do not understand," noted the Progen woman. The Pakkrat explained Terran birthday traditions as the pair freewarped through New Edinburgh and Inverness sectors to avoid being seen as little as possible. Soon enough, the pale gas planet was seen. The Trader and the Warrior descended into re-entry of Inverness Planet. In the solar system of Tau Ceti, Inverness Down was once an atmospheric research station that had been re-purposed for the storage of Terran capital ships and minor gas mining. But with InfinitiCorp's acquisition of Arduinne Planet, far more rich in gasses, Inverness Down became a neglected ghost town of sorts. "Ghost town?" asked Siobhan again puzzled by another of the Pakkrat's explanations. "An unused shell, neglected after its former usefulness," said the Pakkrat. "The station is always in a state of slow death by disrepair and badly-needed supplies that the corporation often overlooks." The formation of the two ships entered the upper atmosphere of the thick clouds of the planet. Instantly, rain of some unknown liquid pelted the two vessels. A storm had moved into the area and drenched the pair. Using instrumentation from the *Labyryinth Runner's* mapped records, the two made way though erratic winds. Sheet lightning played across the highest portions of the lower atmospheric clouds below the ships. The electricity lit the skies from below eerily. With virtually no visibility ahead, the Pakkrat had to navigate by his map alone and his ship's scan telemetry. Before the Pakkrat was ready, the gargantuan, atmospheric station was revealed as the formation penetrated a final, dark cloud bank. The station loomed far overhead and stretched down, deep into the lower atmosphere. Though it was a massive and impressive superstructure, the Terran could see its age showing in the technologies of its era. It was aging and nothing evidenced to convince the trader otherwise. As the pair were on final approach of the docking facility, he was surprised to see the hangar shield still working in this storm. Lightning lit the skies below again as the two slowed their ships into the docking bay to land at a hangar berth. The pair exited their craft and made way from the hangar which reverberated from the thunder outside the station. Inside the main lobby, the Terran man and Progen woman went straight to an analysis terminal. Focusing the massive computer on the two Ancient artifacts, Siobhan helped by inputting the names of the respective devices. Some scrolling through systems was necessary due to the old software the antiquated station still utilized. "This station is almost as old as I am," said the Pakkrat as he continued to match the names with the devices. "But a station, even as old as this one should have updated its database even so." "There," said Siobhan who first spotted a match in the menu. "That one and several below in the list is the second one." "The aa Gamik An Ne and aa Uhtag An Ne Ancient artifact devices," quoted the Pakkrat as he punched up the entries for each. The database had noted less than ten of the strange and arcane devices of that tech level ever discovered. "Pretty rare," he said. "Ravenlock was right about their being partial weapons. Look." Siobhan read the entry then said, "I can see now why Ravenlock was unhappy with you. The 'Uhtag' has the Ancient power to cripple weapons while the 'Gamik' has the ability to speed up your own rate of fire. The two are very dangerous in the right hands." She pointed at the second entry to the aa Uhtag An Ne device. "This must have been the source of that bright, white beam that struck the Bio-hunter when we were attacked in Jotunheim. It crippled the vessel's beam weapon that should otherwise have truly tested your shields, Terran." "Good thing too," the man said. "You were still running for your ship." "Now that we know the general capabilities of these two artifacts," began the Warrior, "what about this P3889 that Amah mentioned being the 'key'?" "There isn't a galactic network terminal aboard Inverness Down but I know, as an employee of InfinitiCorp, where he is," said the Pakkrat standing up from the analysis terminal and turning to Siobhan. "The Psis are in Aganju, 61 Cygni, being used as mining personnel for weapons grade ores deep underground of the planet. Perhaps this P3889 can be found in that sector of space." The pair waited out the storm over dinner in the lounge of the old station. Because the mining facility and junk yard was rarely visited, the two ate together with no one else present. The entire station barely rated more than the smaller stations that had no docking amenities, despite its size, classification, and duties to the Terran capital ships the pair had heard were derelict beyond, somewhere in the storms of Inverness Planet. "This key, the man called P3889," asked Siobhan, "Do you think that using the weapon as Amah suggests to stop the prophesized genocide will work?" The Pakkrat answered darkly, "That's the trouble with prophecies of madmen and time-space-struck women." He swigged his drink then continued, "There is a net terminal at Aganju's space station, Kinshasa-Mbali. We'll see what we can dig up using my credentials as an InfinitiCorp Merchant Prince tomorrow." * * * *In orbit above Inverness and hidden from all, the **Andromeda** waited patiently for the pair to re-emerge from the storms. DeWynter knew she could not descend with such a huge, space-born capital ship into such gravity. Only de-commissioned vessels were sent to be slowly picked apart in the junk yards of the planet below. She knew the Pakkrat would have to come back this direction so her ship could follow him once more.* *"Learn, Pakkrat, what I want you to do for me," said the InfinitiCorp COO to the image of Inverness through the forward bridge view ports of the black capital ship.* She stood over his sleeping form. Though the old station was quite antiquated, it was not spartan in the sleeping quarters they had acquired. The Warrior had entered unannounced and stood, silently watching the Terran man. The merchant seemed to be a deep sleeper. Again this night, Siobhan had paced about her own room, thinking. When she had had enough counsel with herself, the Progen woman had found herself at Pakkrat's door. When the trader did not answer, she let herself into the room to be assured he was secure. Before her was the man she had been assigned to keep quiet, to keep from getting into deeper trouble with Vinda and the Sabine Order. But in doing so, Siobhan had infiltrated to brazenly contact the Virtuals, escaped Progen space with the trader, committed Republic espionage into Sabine Order records, Freespacer grave-robbing, fought pirates and Bio-hunters, and was taken on a new experience of the 'date' with this man. She mentally ran down the list of adventures this 200-year old man had given her. The trader rolled over in his sleep, taking most of the thermal blanket into an amusing cocoon about him. Should the prophecy of the greatest warrior of the Centuriata, Amah be true, this Terran would spend his birthday murdering another Terran in the name of preventing genocide. Cuinnit Dougal had thought the key to mankind's survival was to destroy the now time-space locked hero. Who knew if the Ancient device, mated to the prototype Dark Matter missile launcher could penetrate the strange and alien field about Amah? And now she had pointed the trader at this Terran Psi, P3889 as the key to stopping the loss of millions of deaths on a planetary scale. She had not told the Pakkrat everything, given that she had to paraphrase from the journal. If the Pakkrat could stop this strange prophetic chain of events, whether or not they were being manipulated, lives without the boon of the Call Forward were at risk. More than twenty million Terran Psis lives were on one end of a scale against the life of one Terran Psi. The logical processes of Siobhan's genome would have naturally chosen the many over the few. Though they were Terrans, a race unlike her own, the Progen woman saw that it was the sleeping man before her who would have to make that decision. Tomorrow, this man would kill one or kill many in inaction, regardless if this was prophecy or some society or entity's manipulation. Given what he had explained about Terran birthday celebrations and how it was a time of happiness and life's continuance, Siobhan felt a twinge of emotion she could not identify within herself for the slumbering Pakkrat. Quietly and aided by the controlled movements of her Combat Trance, Siobhan removed her armor and uniform. Laying her gear down beside the empty side of the man's bed, she crept gently into the bed beside him. Some urge inside the First Sabura, the mother-of-sorts to a new breed of Progen warriors with a conscience, decided to give some form of companionship to the man sleeping next to her. Was it some Terran deep dream he was having that allowed him to remain blissfully asleep as she huddled to his tall form and wrapped her wiry arm over him from behind? She could not bring herself to fall asleep, so she did the best she could all night to give him solace that her urge suggested. In this way, Siobhan also comforted herself in this action, though she could not yet understand why this contact was reassuring. She watched him sleep the entire night. * * * This was his room, right? The Pakkrat opened his eyes in time to see the Progen woman, Siobhan getting up from the bed, his bed. He lifted his head to watch her dress. When she looked at him and saw him watching her, she merely smiled knowingly and silent, then continued gathering armor pieces. The trader did not feel like he'd gotten lucky, so he soaked up what little he could as the Warrior dressed in her uniform and began to clasp on her armor. Like any of the Progen race, Siobhan was genetically perfect in body. She was shorter than most Progen Warriors, but still lithe and muscular. Her dark tan was evident as it slightly contrasted with her sandy, light-brown hair. The woman took time to re-tie her pony tail and let it twine itself in her signature double-helix spiral down her perfect back. The dragon green eyes seemed to have a bio-luminosity all their own as she looked at the trader again. Perhaps it was vision enhancements or some trick of the dim light in the room. She certainly had no trouble moving about in the shadows. She moved around the bed to him. He opened his mouth to speak, but she hushed him with a finger over his lips. "A birthday gift and no more," she said quietly in a whisper. "Happy birthday, Pakkrat." Then she retreated slowly with a gentle smile upon her tanned face. Her hair threatened to cover those eyes which seemed to know something the trader did not. She left him alone in the room in a daze of wonder. The storm had passed in the early morning. The Pakkrat found the Progen Warrior in the lounge. A breakfast was waiting for the trader. The two ate as the man watched the woman then bring over a cupcake from the meal dispenser. It had only a pair of candles. Using a mini-tool flame torch, Siobhan lit the two lights and put the birthday treat before the Merchant Prince. "I don't sing well," Siobhan said, "so I hope this will say it better." "Why only two?" asked the Pakkrat, indicating with a pointed finger the candles. "You were born to the Crystal Age two years ago, despite your previous life," said the woman. "And I'm not going to hunt down two-hundred candles and light them all." "And you, Siobhan?" asked the Pakkrat. "How many candles are on your most recent birthday cake?" Siobhan was about to answer, but then protested with, "Is it not impolite to ask a female her age?" "Not fair," said the trader. "You get to know how old I am." "I have lived many Progen lives, Terran," admitted Siobhan. "And unfortunately, I have recently regained precise memory of all of them. But if you must know..." The Pakkrat waited for it, but the warrior held up her gloved hand to display three fingers. "Three?" asked the man with a puzzled expression. "How can you be only three and look so- um, developed?" Siobhan looked around the lounge to catch sight of a few station workers going about their routines. Then she returned her gaze to the Terran. "I was Called Forward a little over three years ago, but that time is too private to share," she explained. "Progen can be Called into fully-grown bodies if they choose to Answer the Call at all. My gene-map is the same, I just returned somewhat as I was when I was-....when I last fell." The Pakkrat saw how the woman had become serious in her recalling of her past. He let it go and just smiled down at the birthday cupcake. "Thank you, Siobhan," he said. "It's very nice." Then he closed his eyes and took in a deep breath to blow the candles out. "Did you make a wish as per Terran birthday traditions?" asked Siobhan. "Yes," purred the Pakkrat, "but I'm not allowed to say what that wish was." Having fully-identified the Ancient artifacts, rested and eaten, the couple left Inverness Down in a much brighter, yet thin overcast of an Inverness day. Their two vessels made the orbital gate with ease and were quit of the planet. As they crossed Inverness sector, the Pakkrat had to admit that this was the best birthday he'd had in well over two-hundred years. He smiled as he freewarped the Praefect and his ship to the system gate to 61 Cygni. Instantly leaving behind the Tau Ceti system, trading it for the binary star system of 61 Cygni and it's rusty-red nebula named the Menorg Swarm, the pair gated to Aganju sector. With the twirling closure of the star gate's rings, the Pakkrat beheld the planet of the same name. Aganju was still in the initial stages of terraforming with a single, large settlement that was slowly infecting the surface with green of plants and irrigations. But the trader from InfinitiCorp had learned that it was the mines deep below the surface that were the real cash cow of the planet. Aganju revolved around 61 Cygni A, the larger of the two binaries. In orbit above the planet was the second largest space station the Terran race had ever built, the largest being of course Earth Station. It was at Kinshasa-Mbali Station that ores from Aganju were transported for refining, packaging and shipping back to InfinitiCorp, the major shareholder in the entire project. Additionally, a sport for hunting nommos, a space fauna of migrating herds about the two stars, had cropped up at their territorial interference of shipping out of Kinshasa-Mbali. It was also here that the fresh and steady stream of Terran Psionics, indoctrinated by the Terran Ramirez Codes from a very early age, were processed and assigned to duties throughout the solar system. With their particular gifts, the Psis were sent here to mine Aganju and the other planets for weapons grade ores, search for psionic resonances and assist in the further exploration of the binary solar system. The Pakkrat had also learned that while the face of operations was headquartered at Kinshasa-Mbali, the unfortunate Psis were routed through a dismally frigid and neglected platform named Xai Xai. From InfinitiCorp, to Psionics, to EarthCorps security, many Terrans had a stake in the sector. Whether it was business, industry, social sports, or staging for the dwindling Cygni Wars in Moto against the Progen Combine there, there was always traffic in and out of Aganju. Though a hub for commerce, 61 Cygni A was still a newer acquisition for InfinitiCorp and the Terran Alliance. Given the sector's infancy, Aganju's borders enclosed the smallest area in known human space. Only two of the four InfinitiGates here were fully operational. The third, the sector gate to Thelugi Rift was shut down after the infamous Battle of Thelugi Rift. The last, star gate was yet to be completed to a new solar system in the same constellation, named Sanctus Kyrie. Psis were behind schedule in opening the new egress. 61 Cygni B, connected by the Moto corridor sector was still largely unexplored though the Sabine Order Sentinels, (at the illegal invitation by GETCo) had given the lesser half of the binary star an initial and superficial survey. Then the Cygni Wars had started and the Sabine were forced out of the system by the conflicts of the Progen Combine and the Terran Alliance. The two stars were connected by the red nebula, the Menorg Swarm also largely unexplored. Since the space station was situated in low orbit with the nearby system gate to Tau Ceti in high, geostationary orbit, the Pakkrat used impulse thrust towards the massive superstructures. This gave him time to see the richness of the sector. Though he had been here a handful of times, the trader decided to have a better look at the developing beauty of 61 Cygni. Asteroid fields of all types dotted the skies out to the limits of his scanners. Wanting to take a deeper look, the Terran man engaged his onboard devices. One of the Anicent devices, the aa Uhtag An Ne in particular, played a humming or droning sound as it interfaced with the Terran vessel. Instantly, more fields, objects and even the distant Progen Warship Genesis, seemingly dormant on-station, was revealed to the *Labyrinth Runner*. As the trader reached a holding position to wait for a turn to dock from the control tower at Kinshasa-Mbali, he slowly spun about to have another, improved look at the sector. Backlit by the closing, spinning, hexagonal rings of the system InfinitiGate, was the shadowy form of the most sinister, black capital ship the Pakkrat had ever beheld. It was long, aerodynamic in shape, without a single hard edge anywhere on its smooth surface. Small, oval bulges covering the hull of the dark craft looked to conceal huge capital-class weapons. The targeter on his cockpit locked onto the midnight vessel, but no identity came from any transponder. It was if it did not exist to normal sensors. "Pakkrat," said Siobhan, "we can dock now. It's our turn." "No we can't, Siobhan," answered the trader whose ship was still pointed at the huge, enigmatic vessel. He looked at Siobhan next to him in the formation. Just beyond her vessel was the space station's observation deck and lounge. A single Terran man was standing at the transparent, panoramic view ports to the sector outside. The man, a Terran Psi, was looking directly at the Pakkrat's ship, at the pilot in particular. Finally, as if these two were not enough, red warning blips on his radar were silently pulsing. Too many to count, they were approaching on separate vectors that collectively pointed at the *Laybrinth Runner*.
  19. The Thule Project - Ch. VII by Pakkrat VII. *"Just hold here and maintain full stealth," ordered the Lady DeWynter. "I have a feeling that we will see the rat return soon."* *The secretary saluted a Progen salute and added, "Yes, Mistress." Joga then turned to relay the order to the bridge crew of the **Andromeda.** *The black capital cruiser slowed to a halt twenty clicks from the Hyperia staging yard as the two, small vessels entered the artificial wormhole generated by the bookworm, Loric's gate. There was no chance that, under its stealth, the Hyperia Faction leader and scientist could spot her ship.* * * * Against stereotype, the Pakkrat led the way into Roc, the only explored sector of the Deneb solar system before collapse of the Appian Gate. The series of nav-bouys that were spread over this region were done hastily by the original explorers that had followed after Amah, desperately searching for the lost Centuriata responsible for the original opening of the Appian Gate. The space here was barely lit by a rust-red nebula. Pakkrat was joined immediately after by the pink Warrior vessel, the *Kitten*. He sat a moment before the Appian Gate's twin here in Roc. While Siobhan scanned for threats, he used his own devices to stretch out his own scanners in hopes of finding the lost Centuriata. "Is there some clue in the journal, Pakk?" asked Siobhan when she could find no immediate threat in her scopes. "I did not have time to scour the entire journal, but Dougal did put in a sketch from his supposed dreams," answered the Pakkrat. The researcher had scribbled a set of coordinates and a general, hand-drawn map of his dream-Roc. Dougal had even hastily drawn a mythical, giant bird that seemed to label the sketch though there were no words on the drawing. "Dougal forgot to label the sector it seems, but this drawing seems to elude to some coordinates," noted the trader. "Let's try this direction first." The formation turned and thrusted about on impulse velocities spinward into the sector from the dormant Appian Gate. The pair passed pristine asteroid fields as they searched. Siobhan spoke up at seeing these, "I think we are in something analogous to Sol's Kuiper Belt. Look, the navs transponder their names with the term 'Kuiper'." The Pakkrat nodded and continued his flight. Then he stopped the two vessels' formation. "I think," he said, "that I am reading this wrong." "What do you mean?" asked Siobhan. It was clear that the trader was reading the numbers off the sketch. "I think that Dougal got the X and Y coordinates backward. There's nothing here." Then the man steered the pair to a different direction. "Either way, the two should be near each other. The two back-tracked a little in the new direction. Soon, the Tradesman and the Warrior ships came upon a strange sight. On the scopes and the targeter was a rust-red Progen ship seemingly powered down, its engines without life. But stranger still was a dodecahedral field about the ship. It was made of lines of light. It encapsulated the vessel completely. The main running lights of the Progen vessel displayed still the honeycomb-fist symbol of the Progen Republic. But on closer examination, the bridge of the ship was dark. "I detect one life-sign, Terran," said Siobhan as she monitored the scanners while the trader closed the gap with the ship and its cage of light. Still the ship remained motionless. "It's comms are still active," noted the Pakkrat. "Should we attempt to hail it?" "I don't see why not," said the Warrior, "but use a tight lasercom beam instead. Let's not be loud here." She looked about the area. "This doesn't feel right." After the Freespacers, the Pakkrat decided to take Siobhan's advice. With a one-to-one lasercom beam, he hailed the vessel. The beam passed through the field about the red hull. A black-haired Progen woman with adornments on her forehead appeared on the communications monitor. She was dressed in Progen armor but without any clothing between her and the protective gear. To the Pakkrat, seeing such a clad Progen woman was moderately provocative and yet unsettling given that Progen did not dress to be attractive as a general rule. "I am Amah and you are one of those who tried to kill me. Who and now Does Memnon try again or were you send by someone who believes as he does?" The speech was strange, distracted and disjointed with clashing tenses and speaking of things that had not happened yet. The Pakkrat hazarded to identify himself with, "I am in need of help. You are Amah, who opened the Appian Gate?" Amah looked distant, through the Pakkrat as if he were not present at all and as if she were pontificating alone, "I did....with Kahn's blessing. Touch now the truth that saturates us all. There is another reality beautiful and complex. Look to it." The signal went dead as if the Progen hero had stopped the line of communications. Pakkrat looked to Siobhan and shrugged. "I got nothing." "Let me," said the Warrior next to the Pakkrat. Siobhan fed what she received to the Pakkrat as she engaged a similar lasercom beam to Amah's ship. At the hail, Amah's face appeared again. But she gave no sign that she recognized Siobhan or that she had just been hailed seconds ago. "I am Amah and you are one of those who tried to kill me. Who and now Does Memnon try again or were you send by someone who believes as he does?" The Pakkrat whispered to Siobhan, "It sounds like a recording even though she's right there at the bridge communications console." "I am Centuriata Praefect Siobhan, Amah," announced the Progen. "We have come seeking you." Amah looked once at Siobhan and then up to her viewport at something further distant before saying, "Go back......this place is dangerous." At that, the Pakkrat checked his scanners, deepened as they were by his devices. There was nothing on the scan sweeps. Siobhan tried to keep the hero woman's attention, "Amah, is there someone else here?" "Yes Yes No No Yes No No Yes," stammered the black-haired Progen. "Return the way you came....Deneb is not the way." Again the communications went dead as the strange Progen cut off the connections. "I think she is trapped in that field," said Siobhan. With a four clicking sounds, the Pakkrat heard Siobhan take off the safeties of her weapons. Alongside her movement to target the light shell about Amah's ship, Siobhan was spooling up a particular weapon signature to the Centuriata. "Let's see if we can free her from that enclosure," declared the Warrior. "Siobhan wait-" cautioned the Pakkrat, but he was too late. Weapons fire shot over the short distance to the shield. Explosive rounds clouded the dodecahedral field, obscuring it for a few seconds. A white beam shot from her Warrior vessel playing across the surface in an attempt to sap its way through the strange energies. After several seconds of continuous chain-gun fire, Siobhan halted her weapons. Amah's ship remained still within the light cage that showed no sign of weakening. "Siobhan stop," implored the trader. "I don't think conventional weapons are going to work here." "What technology is keeping her in there?" asked Siobhan. The Pakkrat hailed Amah again. She greeted them as before, "I am Amah. Return the way you came.....it is not safe here." "We are trying to free you from the shell about your ship," said the Pakkrat. Amah seemed to see the Pakkrat as if from the first time she had encountered the trader. "The crew was not their fault....The crew was unavoidable." It was as if she did not remember the pair's earlier hails. "Amah," interjected Siobhan. "How can we free you?" The Centuriata hero again looked distant as she spoke with a growing smile, "There is a reality of another order, the implicate...ultimate..a truth we once suspected which should have died in war in lies which choked on science which lives in spite of everything..the numinous..the heirophony..shown now in gates..the codex itself..and the world that shakes....FOR THIS I BLAME THE PSIS...." Then, as before, the communication line went dead. To the Pakkrat, the Progen woman was too far gone or strangely trapped, perhaps outside time since she was greeting the couple anew each time. He looked at the Warrior beside him outside his starboard viewport. She too was looking at him with a questioning look. Then his sight dropped down to his own ship's wing. There, mounted just underneath it, hung the dark matter launcher. To the trader, it seemed hungry to be used again. With the small stack of ammunition left and the now two Ancient artifacts mounted, the Pakkrat asked himself a deadly question. "What about this?" he asked more to himself. "It seems that this is what has been made available." He took the safety to the weapon off. "Pakkrat no!" rejected Siobhan. "You can't use the power of the Ancients to free Amah. She seems trapped in a bubble of space-time. That is not a shield, Pakkrat. It's...something else. "Whatever trapped her in there is most likely not an Ancient, Siobhan," pointed out the trader. "We could break the field with these two 'aa' in conjunction with the launcher." "But then you might kill her in doing so, Terran," explained the Warrior. "Remember what happened to the Bio-hunter? That black stuff destroyed half their vessel and given enough time would have eaten the other half." The Pakkrat checked himself, but then hailed Amah again, he listened to her greet him again by identifying herself once more anew. Then he asked, "Amah, how can we free you?" "Do not...attempt.....a cowardice," she said and continued with, "P3889 is one of the keys.....destroy him....they are coming." Again she had stopped looking at him and past him. A proximity alarm lit up and demanded attention. Both the Terran and the Warrior checked their scanners. There was a mass of many ship-sized objects on the extreme outer sensor range. They were closing fast without signature warp cones or warp wake trails. "Run!" said Siobhan. "Those are not ships!" Pakkrat spun the formation back the way they came. Since his travel devices were still in place and his best engine bolted down, the *Labyrinth Runner* was only inhibited, barely, by Siobhan's slower ship beside him. The two ships barely had time to align before shooting from the vicinity of Amah's ship. Over the communications receiver came a insect-like squealing and humming sound from the many objects. They formed words somehow and spoke. "TRANSMISSIONISTRAVELLINGATSPEEDSGREATERTHANTHESPEEDOFLIGHT" The trader did not for a second try to decipher the sound and gunned his vessel to maximum warp back to the Appian Gate. "They're chasing us! Go Go!" called Siobhan. Ahead the still-dormant Appian Gate in Roc, Deneb sat quiet. A series of grayish beams struck both the escaping vessels. But there was no damage and their speed was undiminished. Pakkrat risked a split-second to look over at his shield matrix strength. It was not weakened. "I think we were just scanned," he said. "Let's get the hell outta here." "They're closing," said Siobhan. Her ship began spooling up a Gravity Link beam. She was trying to slow down the darkened objects chasing the pair. "Hurry!" With a focus driven by fear, the Pakkrat leaned on his ship's Terran Advantage engine. Ahead the Appian Gate drew closer while the cloud of objects hounded them forward. "Please work," whispered the Pakkrat to himself and the sleeping Ancient Gate. He fed the opening song through the transmitters and filtered by the two Ancient devices still mounted adjacent to the dark matter launcher. Siobhan's Gravity Link beam struck several of the lead objects, illuminating them in their brown-black glow. They looked like green, gray, purple and ruddy brown insect-like spaceships with glowing green stripes where a cockpit or bridge might be located. Several of the strangers struck by her brown-black beam fell behind the initial wave. The sight of them was a shock to Siobhan because she yelled at the Pakkrat, "Get us out now!" The song-transmission seemed to be acknowledged by the long-dormant Appian Gate as the eight crescent shapes lit up and expanded as they slid in circles to their proper shapes. Several more of the grayish scanning beams struck the paired vessels as the Ancient stargate opened to swallow the two ships. The two were pulled out of warp by the slow gating approach via impulse. Directly behind them came the cloud - no nebula - of the alien things. An ear-piercing screech was heard over the communications systems of the gating pair. It was nerve-wracking to slowly enter the gate as the swarm closed in on the two at warp-like speeds. Still more of their beams struck the pair and played over the hulls of the Tradesman and the Warrior. Then they were gone from Roc, Deneb. * * * Siobhan's heart was pounding. This must have been what fear felt like. It was unlike anything she had ever experienced in any previous iteration life she could immediately recall. She had always prided herself and her race's fearless, death-defying leap into the dark breach between life and Answering the Call Forward. But it was this encounter with the unknown that removed that confidence, stripping her of the surety that if she had died, her gene-map would have been found and reclaimed. The sensations that played over her heart mixed with the images she saw when her Gravity Link beam revealed the horrors that had chased them. The Warrior's hands gripped both her horizontal control sticks; her fingers begged to shoot something, anything to rid her of what she alone had beheld. She had landed back in real space just outside the collapsed Appian Gate in Lagarto, Gallina. A second or two passed in the fear-filled eternity before the Pakkrat arrived. His ship was unharmed, but Siobhan engaged her Combat Trance out of a desperate need for stability and willingness to go down fighting. "Don't move, Pakkrat," the First Sabura warned. Before he could ask, she said, "We are in a gravity shear and a radiation field. Look at your shields." Siobhan looked down at her shields in the formation status on her heads-up display. The emissions from the collapsed Appian Gate were slowly draining the matrix as it fought to keep out the harmful radiation. Yet, she could not merely warp out due to the fact that the gravity shear was also a deadly well preventing warp speeds. The two were caught in a slow death and had to crawl the gauntlet of dangerous radiation and gravity shear that threatened to rip apart their ships' hulls. The Pakkrat gently slipped his Tradesman into a new formation and let Siobhan lead. She turned the formation carefully and made for a distant beacon that was their only exit from the deadly field. With their shields strengths slowly declining, the Warrior pushed the formation at slow impulse speeds towards the beacon. The beacon, placed immediately after the discovery of the Appian Gate's collapse, was an accelerator gate. When activated, the accelerator could use stargate-like systems to slide a vessel across the same sector of space instantly through folding space temporarily. It was not a true wormhole but rather similar to the Jenquai who were able to fold space with their strange systems. Siobhan just had to get the formation to the beacon attached to the slide-gate. Yet, the sounds of tearing bulkheads and crushing armor gnawed at them as they made way. Siobhan overheard the Pakkrat's ship computer, a female voice say, "Hull integrity at twenty-five percent." "Stop, Siobhan. Stop," called the trader. "Let me patch us up before we continue." It was a blessing of the Tradesman-class vessel from InfinitiCorp that its tractor beam was so precise that it could effect on-the-fly repairs to hull as well as tap its reactor in a shield-recharging action that renewed both hull and shields. Here in this current environment, it was a boon that Siobhan prayed thanks to Vita Theodora, the Progen mother in spirit. "Hull repaired," called the Pakkrat's computer. It was followed immediately by a *RE-VAMP* of the formation's shields recharged. Soon, the two attained the slide-gate. Activating the accelerator, the formation found itself hundreds of clicks outside the dangerous gravity shear and radiation fields. Without a word, the two hastily left Lagarto sector the way they had come. Fear of their experience on the far side of the galaxy was still too upsetting and made all the more insistent given the slow pace they had to adopt to escape from the vicinity of the Appian Gate in this sector. During their transit from Gallina back to Aragoth, Siobhan risked a question to the trader beside her in the warping formation, "Pakk, were you scared?" He looked her from the communications monitor. "Of course." "How do you deal with it?" "Deal with fear?" asked the Terran confirming the context of the question. Siobhan nodded. "Well, I'm no adrenaline-addict or any thrill-seeker so I'm certainly not one to embrace fear," said the trader driving the formation. "But neither am I one to avoid a healthy dose of common sense and humility when warranted." Siobhan clarified with, "But once you experience this - fear - what next?" "Well," thought the Pakkrat aloud, "once I've dealt with fight-or-flight reflexes of survival, I have to stop, remind myself that I'm okay and that things will get better." "You call these thoughts up to delude yourself?" asked the Sabura. "Well, I don't see it as delusional but rather optimistic thinking," explained the trader. "You see, clear-headedness is better achieved through a positive attitude than brooding on the negative aspects of what cannot be helped. Fear grips the heart, but it is an emotion we deal with regularly. So, we just attempt to live in the now, put one foot in front of the other and keep going rather than freezing up, incapable of thought, other emotions, causal decision-making or action." Siobhan nodded and admitted, "I have never felt this 'fear' before, Pakk. We Progen are immortal through the Call Forward. Yet, it was the unfathomable that I nearly froze upon." "Fear of the unknown," corrected the Terran. "It's the most powerful fear known - the unknown." The First Sabura, in that moment, had an epiphany about herself. In being iterated as a Sabura Warrior, Vinda's ideal Warrior matrix possessing a conscience, she had to accept that the new warriors would also take on feeling fear. Siobhan considered this and then knew what she would next teach to her new generation of fellow Sabura. "Thank you," she said gently. "For what?" asked the pilot in the Tradesman next to her. She was about to thank the Pakkrat for teaching her to deal with fear, but changed it to, "Thank you for getting us out of Deneb. If we had not been in formation when you gated, I would have been left back there with those....things." "You are welcome, Siobhan," the man said. "You have helped me too, y'know. I thank you too. You have risked all to talk to your Virtuals. You haven't killed me yet, because I know I rub many the wrong way eventually." "What makes you say that I ever wanted to harm you?" asked the Warrior. "I don't believe in coincidences, Siobhan," said the Pakkrat. "Our way has been laid down before us by someone or some things that are pushing us onward, playing us. Too many things have been spoon-fed us to keep us going in this little rat race." Siobhan, after mentally translating the figures of speech asked, "Then what kept you from shooting Amah back there? That thing, backed by the power of the Ancients could have possibly shattered the alien cell about her ship." "It could have also killed her as you pointed out," answered the Pakkrat. "But a weapon, even at rest, begs its owner to be used. Anyone with an ego can feel the power a weapon offers. It takes a man -present gender included- to use a weapon, Siobhan." "You mean the weapon wants to be used?" asked the Warrior. "But despite being railroaded by this adventure's benefactors, we still have free will," answered the Pakkrat side-stepping her last question. Siobhan changed back to the means the trader had used to allow them to escape Roc sector. "How did you get the Appian Gate to open, Pakk?" "Something Amah said," began the trader as he opened the next star-gate into Muspelheim sector. "Do you know how when you flash a laser into a holograph plate, no matter where it strikes the plate, an image is produced?" asked the Pakkrat before continuing. "The entire plate, end to end, side to side has all the information of the produced image, so that the laser initiates the image regardless of its incidence. The whole is contained in even the tiniest parts. I applied that principle to the signal through the Ancient artifacts to 'Befriend' the Appian Gate. If it heard the call of the Ancients, through a piece of them, then I felt that the holograph principle would apply there too." "I still do not understand," said the Siobhan with confusion in her voice. "Look," said the Pakkrat. "Remember what they said about the Codex Shard, how it was supposedly a piece of the larger original and how any bit of the original had all it needed to open an Ancient Gate?" "That was never tested," said the Progen woman. "This time I had the right combination, but had to mask my 'voice' as one of the Ancients," explained the Pakkrat. "It's hard to explain but with the addition of the Ancient artifacts, I was able to Befriend or sleaze our way through." "You fooled the Appian Gate into somehow accepting you as an Ancient?" asked the Warrior incredulously. "I doubt it would work with a fully functioning Ancient gate, but since the Appian is damaged or collapsed on one end, it seemed worth a try. Seems the thing wasn't in the mood to argue this time." "Strange, but at least we are alive and returned," sighed Siobhan. It was too much but there was no denying the Pakkrat's desire to survive. "Another issue, Siobhan," said the Pakkrat. "We can't tell anyone we've been to Deneb. We'd become instant targets for the entire of humanity and unable to hide anywhere. All would want to debrief us, dissect us, or otherwise pick out brains." Siobhan stumbled over the last strange saying but asked him, "But what of the aliens? What of Amah?" The trader answered the second question first, "Amah is outside time and space by that strange field about her. She keeps meeting us for the first time. I imagine that she will be the same age whenever she escapes from it. As to the aliens? They didn't follow us and they merely scanned us. We were only chased from that side of the galaxy. Now that Loric and Hyperia have a functioning gate, let other explorers get scanned and chased." Siobhan felt helpless to aid Amah but returning to Roc was futile. "What now?" "Amah said that a 'P3889' was the key to - I dunno - saving humanity," said the Pakkrat. "P3889 is a designation for Terran Psis, a particular Psi as each has a different numerical designation. But the Psis are on the far side of human space and we still don't know exactly what these two Ancient artifacts are or what they do. Neither do we know why they seem to have an affinity to the weapon. It's not an Ancient design. Any ideas?" Siobhan, across her many remembered iterations, recalled memories of explorers finding lesser, framed crystals of the Ancients. She told the Pakkrat how a Jenquai researcher was the only known person to supposedly identify the devices. The Warrior related that those with the devices had to travel to Jenquai space to present the find to a Jenquai woman named Ayako Ravenlock. "Where is this Ravenlock person then?" asked the Pakkrat. "Paren Station, Kailaasa - above the new Jenquai homeworld," answered Siobhan. "Ugh. More travelling," said the trader. "Let's go."
  20. The Thule Project - Ch. VI by Pakkrat VI. Siobhan had to admit that his Terran knew how to make a run for it. Rather than return to Venus, which was swarmed with pirates, capital ships and the Venera Highport, (a den of all sorts); the trader rushed forward through a little travelled exit from Sol. The travellers emerged into Pluto and Charon. The Terran then swung his down and to the right as the next gate was directly adjacent to their entry stargate. With but a turn, the pair were through the distant sector of space an on to the Kuiper Belt which was home to the Ancient Akeron's Gate, the first discovered stargate that was the source of so much exploration, commerce, war and history. Then adding a simple transmission, the pair were shunted immediately to the sector with the same name. Akeron's Gate, the sector, was in the deep reaches of the Kuiper Belt but still close to Pluto and Charon, so distant from Sol's sun. The pair entered the strange sector of space from the coreward end of the sector and the trader flew directly for the Ancient gate to Aragoth system. Siobhan watched on the monitor as the Pakkrat repeatedly, as if by some instinct, looked over his shoulder and out his cockpit bridge view port. "What is wrong?" she asked. "I don't know exactly," answered the man. "I feel rushed or goaded. It's like I said earlier about someone stepping on my grave. I think we're still being followed or herded onward." Looking at her scanners as the formation arrived at the Ancient stargate, Siobhan could detect nothing of interest but the icy asteroids of the Kuiper Belt, the huge and historical gap in the Belt torn away by human history and the gate itself. It stood there, stacked up like eight, green crescents upon each other. This was their dormant position, as they were first discovered so long ago. There was nothing else she could detect. "I think you are developing a hair-trigger, Terran." He chuckled, but the Pakkrat countered, "Progen have their sayings too. Maybe. Maybe I'm being paranoid after acquiring the weapon." The Terran then transmitted the signal, a 'song' or series of frequencies that Akeron's Gate to Aragoth recognized and acknowledged. The eight crescents lit up with their blue beams and spun and swerved in great circles about each other. There was a great hissing whisper, almost a collection of voices and animal-like vocalisations that accompanied the gate's opening. "Did you year that?" asked the Pakkrat who looked stunned as he watched the ancient portal come to life with its wormhole rimmed in blue, flickering plasma. "Hear what?" ask Siobhan. "The gate? Yes, of course, Terran. Everyone hears the strange sounds from the Ancient gate when it opens." "No - well yes - but I heard something else," said the Pakkrat. "It was a woman or some female. She said for me to 'take the shot' or something like it." Siobhan gripped her controls on her ship. With but a thumb-flip and a trigger pull, she could have all her weapons firing. "I heard nothing like that, Terran." Then the portal wormhole was fully opened and the two entered Akeron's Gate to Aragoth system together. Again Pakkrat looked on edge to the First Sabura Warrior. As soon as they were fully inside the Ancient Gate, the pair found themselves in Freya, the first sector of Aragoth system. Siobhan had flown through Aragoth many times, both as a Centuriata Courier and a few more in this life as a Sabura Warrior. Freya was the 'front' doorstep to the shared system of Aragoth. The three races, Jenquai, Progen and Terran had divvied up the new solar system under the Glenn Treaty. The three races to this day continued to explore the vastness of the new solar system. "On your map," displayed Siobhan, "I have noted the sector gate to Jotunheim. If you like we can stop at Arx Ymir to rest your nerves, Pakkrat." "Oh sure," chuckled the trader again nervous. "I've slept in quite a few Progen stations and that one is near the bottom of my favorite crash pads, Warrior." "We won't 'crash', Terran." "I - I meant to find a place to sleep. To 'crash' comes from 'crash and burn' or fall into bed and sleep deeply from exhaustion." "Did everyone speak as you do in your era, Pakkrat?" "Only us annoying Terrans. The rest were quite clean-spoken." "I think I see," concluded the Sabura. "Let us at least register there in case things become truly dangerous here in Jotunheim. The Freespacers can be a bit reclusive to a fault." It was a small matter to register at Arx Ymir. With the exchange of Information Friend or Foe transponder codes, the pair were registered without having to dock at the fearsome fortress of the Dog Soldiers stationed aboard. Siobhan had to remind herself that the Pakkrat was not Progen and thus perhaps had heard enough rumors of the retired program to unnecessarily fear them. She herself, in another life during the Gate War, had been a Dog Soldier who took part in the siege of Jove City in Jupiter sector. The atrocities she could now remember were not to be shared, lest the rumors and fears become truth and night terrors for anyone outside the Progen race and Republic. Thus, the two passed under the towering and imposing crimson structure of Arx Ymir. Siobhan advised the trader to take his mind off the space station, "Take the coreward route around Jotunheim. What we are looking for is on the far side of the planet." The Pakkrat winged the formation to port. Then he followed her guidance around the ringed planet Jotunheim in the colorful shadow of the gas giant Odin Rex. Against the blue bands of the king planet, the grayness of Jotunheim was icy and barren by comparison. Yet, Jotunheim had its own draw from the miners. The ring bands were rich with valuable ores from silver, to gold, to platinum and more industrial metals. This of course came with the challenge to the miners to stay aware of the herds of arctic drakes that claimed the rings as their territory. In this knowledge, Siobhan guided the Pakkrat's path to cut a wide swath around the planet via the nav-paths. Eventually, Jotunheim revealed more secrets than just mining claims. The Terran noted the passing of of wings of more than just miners. There were craft here that claimed allegiance to the Chavez pirate cartels. Siobhan assured him that the destination was of no interest of the Chavez. The Freespacers kept little of value to the various galactic pirate clans and kept mostly to themselves. Freespacers, Siobhan had learned in her travels as a Centuriata Courier were originally humans from earth that had left in colony ships from Earth, to embrace life in the deepest parts of space, forever adrift. They had shunned the political, corporate and ideological patterns of Earth throughout the Space Age and into the current Crystal Age. The original families were joined by later generations who flew out to join them. Siobhan had learned, via her new authority as the First Sabura, that the Freespacers were looked down up on by Vinda and the Sabine Order as humans who "did not make the cut" and were slowly eroding themselves with their isolation. The less they behaved like citizens of the galactic community, the further the galactic community wrote them off as something other than human, not to mix genes with. Thus the Freespacers were seen as example of what to not become as humanity spread out into the galaxy. Claiming no territories and drifting between planets in ships and the occasional space station facility or platform, the Freespacers were the nomads of the galaxy. Viewed with rarity and suspicion, the hermits and recluses were an oddity whenever they docked at a 'civilized' station. They never made landfall on a planet as a rule. As Siobhan ran most of this to the Pakkrat who listened intently, the Sabura Warrior made sure her weapons were fully loaded. What she did not frighten the Pakkrat with was that there was a dark side to the Freespacer original families who took to the depths. Some of the first flights of the exodus went so deep as to develop quirks and tendencies forced upon them by the need to survive in times of thin sustenance. A few of these families developed cannibalism and a habit of harvesting human and fauna organs. They turned on anything that moved when things became desperate. Soon, those that had gone completely native cannibals and hunted humans were called Bio-hunters. These barbarians, to Siobhan at least, were a quiet secret that the Freespacers would have like to keep quiet and deal with on their own. It was when those Bio- and gene-hunters began attacking living humans for their organs, genes, and selling them in fringe communities of Freespacers that the rest of humanity, Jenquai, Progen and Terrans began to fear them. Most Bio-hunters flew in single, paired and trios of predatory vessels. While many Freespacers travelled in vessels built for long hauls with plenty of cargo, the cannibals flew interceptors and attacker ships. It was a new plague upon humanity that had done this thing to itself. To Siobhan, it was genetic degeneration and she despised any creature that would eat of its own kind or harvest body parts and organs from the living and the dead for commerce or the consumption larder. While the Sabine Order Reclaimers sought fallen gene-maps of fallen Progen, at least it was not to put them up on the black market or to eat them. The Bio-hunters were more feared than the pirate clans. Pirates accepted your surrender of cargo and let you go onward. The cannibals took your ship, its cargo, your life and then they feasted. They let nothing go its own way. Thus, everyone in the galaxy either ran from a sighted Bio-hunter or fought them to eradication. In this, Siobhan did not share such with the Pakkrat for fear of disturbing this chase for the truth of his peculiar story. Siobhan doubted the Freespacers would even mention their degenerate and distant cousins to the Pakkrat. She allowed the trader to fly onward to the remote, overlooked and strange nav-bouy of the Freespacer Void Moot. Soon the odd beacon was before the pair who dropped out of warp early to gently approach the gathered few ships there. The beacon was a solar powered, large shield unit that emitted a pulsing field of a deep blue color and itself glowed a vibrant orange. Floating in space, it was surrounded by the brassy ships. Siobhan was relieved to see that there was not a full moot of a hundred or more ships. Rather, there were a about ten or so vessels of the hermit, depths probes present. As the formation of a Terran and a Progen approached, the Freespacers seemed to take notice only by making room to orbit the odd nav-bouy. None hailed the new arrivals. "Now what?" asked the Pakkrat when it was readily apparent the Freespacers were not going to acknowledge them other than navigational safety. "Hail one and talk to them, Pakkrat," encouraged Siobhan. "They speak their own dialect but will still answer you. Just be friendly, like most Terrans." "That I can do," said the trader with some confidence at last. It was a strange skill to watch as the Pakkrat, a member of the Terran trader-caste, (though they did not term it so as did the Progen), used the Befriending techniques of appearance, approach, and pitch-tone of voice to ease those they came into contact with. It was not an easy skill to engage, Siobhan noted as the Pakkrat spoke. The very few Freespacers that deigned to pay attention to the Terran Tradesman, seemed to grant him at least their time. But soon enough, he had those few exchanging information. The trader then paid them in standard credits via a transfer of galactic-assured data-script. The gentle, marketing language the Pakkrat used had acquired the information and Siobhan had caught only most of the full conversations with the grateful hermits. If she had not seen it performed before, back when she was a courier for the Centuriata, the Warrior could have mistaken it for some form of social psionic discipline, possibly gleaned from Terran Psionics or "the gifted". When the communications were at last severed, Siobhan called to the Terran, "What did you learn?" "I learned that the Freespacers barely kept records of their deaths beyond individual family trees." "Family tree? As in groves of trees?" The Pakkrat smiled at another failed connection of terminology, "No, you might call them genetic family genome lines, Progen." "Oh," blushed Siobhan. "But the later diaspora were given more care and welcome as they joined the Freespacers already present. Joining clans and families warranted better documentation." "And the doctor, Dougal?" asked Siobhan. "He lived out the rest of his days among the Freespacers. They gave me his burial coordinates on an asteroid. He took no family of his own and died a true hermit alone." The Pakkrat paused a second as if considering his next move. "We have to go to his crypt and see if there are any clues. The clans here reported that he took some personal effects to his grave with him, like some Egyptian Pharaohs." "I see. Terran humans are strange. They try to take material things with them to their post-life," noted Siobhan. Progen released all their material possessions to the Republic and with pride awaited the next opportunity to Answer the Call Forward. There was no pride in dying aside from the dignity of serving once more once Called. "Well, we Terrans have a ways to go it seems," conceded the Pakkrat, "even in this Crystal Age." With the coordinates to a distant location far to the fringes of Jotunheim sector, the Pakkrat freewarped the two ships without much more than an estimate of its distance. Siobhan had to trust in the Pakkrat's navigation skills as this route and vector from Jotunheim made the planet grow smaller in the growing distance. Soon even the rings of the planet were barely detectable on her ship's scanners. "Boy, they do like to bury them in the dark," said the Pakkrat as he gave the controls the command to drop out of warp speeds and began to thrust about at impulse thrust. Neither being exploration-class vessels, the Tradesman and Warrior ships took some time flying about the distant asteroid field, searching the rocks and hydrocarbon deposits for the largest "coprolite in the sandbox" according to the Pakkrat. Another of his sayings, the Siobhan let it go and continue to scan the area. Panning their exterior lights about and double checking their scanners for human-made angles and structures, the two made their way though the field. At last, in the gloom of the rocks and hexagonal shards, the huge asteroid revealed its silhouette to them against the king planet of Aragoth system, Odin Rex. It was a barren and unremarkable asteroid with no crystalline adornments or attractive veins. It seemed to Siobhan that the buried human dead welcomed their forgetful resting places without any form of grandeur. Death to them seemed a quiet end, unlike her fellow Progen who had something forward to expect. It was saddening that Terrans accepted death as a finality of existence. She had to shrug it off when the Pakkrat spotted the small necropolis of squat crypts of long-dead Freespacers. The two ships pulled up to hover above the site. Exiting their craft, again in EVA spacesuits, the two pilots stood in the entombed graveyard arrayed over the surface of the asteroid. In an alien landscape given her Progen race, Siobhan out of a Warrior's habit un-holstered her Athanor heavy pistol. The Pakkrat saw her do this and asked her about it. "Siobhan," said the Pakkrat, "everyone's dead here. Why the gun?" The First Sabura noted his calm and tried to nonchalantly respond, "Precaution only." This seemed to draw just a shrug from the man as he went about searching each crypt for the name of Dr. Cuinnit Dougal. Was it luck or just happenstance that the Pakkrat got a break from difficult searches of recent times, asked Siobhan inwardly. It was under a couple of minutes before he called her over to the squat crypt marked with the researcher's name. He looked at her with a curious, regretful look before asking her to help him crack open the hermetically sealed crypt. Even though the small, single-man stone container was slowly emptied of air, to preserve the contents with as little damage as possible, a tiny zephyr managed to escape as a tiny cloud. Shining her vambrace torch into the crypt, Siobhan revealed the long-dead Dr. Cuinnit Dougal. To her, this was but a shell that had not been recycled into the regenerative sequences of the Sabine. But to Terrans, the Warrior knew that it was so much more to the Terran beside her to defile such places. This was so because he gingerly avoided touching the long-ago depressurized corpse therein. When her torch passed over an old leather bound journal next to the thigh of the dead researcher, a glint from below it gave visual report. She lifted the journal carefully and revealed the orange-gold, octahedral frame of another Ancient artifact. She looked at the Pakkrat who returned her surprised reaction equally. Finding a second Ancient artifact in less than two days was unheard of in these times and both knew it. The Pakkrat lifted it up and away from the corpse, careful not to disturb the husk of the Dougal corpse. It was dusty as the particulates of the air inside the crypt slowly settled as it let out air over the decades. He rotated it once or twice in his hands before brushing off the surfaces of the frame that held another mysterious crystal in its shell. There was little to say that was not already on their facial expressions. Then an alarm on Siobhan's vambrace made her jump with surprised fright. It was a personal combat application in her vambrace's forearm PDA. It was a motion detector. Set to alert her of movement greater than a few meters away, its alarm continued to pulse at her. She stepped back and leveled her heavy pistol at the same time she checked the display that demanded her attention. "I thought you said everyone here except us was dead," she said quietly to the Pakkrat. "I did say that-" returned the trader who was looking at her PDA over her shoulder, trying to see what the alarm was for. She cut him off. "Don't move," warned Siobhan as she pivoted in the indicated direction of the movement. Then when faced in the correct position, she touched her faceplate, right between the eyebrows and closed her eyes for a full second. She had begun the Combat Trance, a discipline of the Centuriata and through them bequeathed to the Sabura Warriors via Vinda's decision to keep the skill for her brand of Warriors. Her free arm still held the Athanor heavy pistol which was now connected to her weapon-arm's vambrace that held a larger magazine of pistol ammunition. Her armor was primed for a firefight. Then the motion detection program detected more movement. She took the safety off the weapon. The Terran was just behind her with the artifact and the journal she had handed to him at the alarm's first report. Syncing the detection program with her armor's myelin-fiber, black jumper, her arm moved, almost on its own, to point the weapon at the first, closest target. It was coming closer at about 50 meters. She bent her knees a little and dug in her stance. Though in the back of her mind, Siobhan had heard of entertainment vid-sims of horror stories of Terran dead come back to life, she put them further back as the Trance set in and she was primed to kill. "There's not supposed to be anyone but us here," whispered the Pakkrat gently. He must have studied her stance and known something of what she was doing. Then the rush came. Six humanoid shapes in the gloom revealed in shadowy silhouettes as Bio-hunters armed with two-handed tools meant to open crypts. The first one barked a phonetic that was unfamiliar to Siobhan. It hardly registered so calm was she in the Combat Trance. When the grave-robbers were within ten meters exactly, the Combat Trance made deadly precise by her armor, Siobhan began firing. In the vacuum of the asteroid, the normally sharp pound of the weapon fire was muted and only registered in her spacesuit as a dull thud. The recoil of the kicking weapon was, via the armor's myelin fibers spread over her entire body. It knew, each time she pulled the trigger where and when to go rigid in order to soften the weapon's recoil. Thus Siobhan gunned down the first attacker to rush the pair in under two shots and before it could cover a meter towards them. The Warrior and the suit then changed targets as one and continued firing the heavy impact rounds from the pistol. She barely noticed that she was kicking up dust as her armor transferred the recoil energy to the dust-covered ground around her. The second target dropped at eight meters, the third at seven meters. Without a round spent uselessly, Siobhan's armor would not let her pull the trigger of the Athanor if the shot was not perfect. This happened when the fourth Bio-hunter ducked behind a squat crypt. The fifth and sixth enemy did likewise seeing the first three drop so quickly. There was more of the strange dialect from behind the crypt. All the same, the First Sabura kept her aim at the nearest movement beyond the two meters about her. "Back to the ships, Terran!" she ordered imperatively. When the Pakkrat bolted to his hovering Tradesman, Siobhan began moving. She knew this would spoil her exacting aim, so she opted for a suppressive fire tactic as she began retreating. The fourth Bio-hunter peeked up over the squat crypt and her suit picked him off, right between the eyes. Then her Combat Trance was spoiled as she ran behind the trader. Seeing her run, the Bio-hunters gave chase with their angry, slurring speech calls. Ahead as she ran, Siobhan saw the Pakkrat signal his ship to allow him entry. He could run fast on those tall legs, she noted. In a flash, he was aboard the *Labyrinth Runner*. It would take him a second to get seated in the cockpit bridge and get the Tradesman moving. The Sabura woman ran toward the *Kitten* when the vambrace alarm rang again, a deeper tone. An unknown ship was coming from behind her, over the horizon of the asteroid. Her PDA warned her, recognizing the shape and configuration of the Bio-hunter interceptor. Just a few meters more and she would be in range of her vessel. Above her, the Pakkrat's ship began to pivot towards the incoming interceptor. There was a bright, white glow from the backside of the prototype launcher as power was fed from the Tradesman's reactor to the weapon. The glow illuminated the entire side and wing of the InfinitiCorp ship as three things happened at once. In a split second, a single, coherent beam shot from the launcher to the Bio-hunter ship, less than a click away at point-blank range. Second, inside the blink of an eye, the launcher was bathed in ultraviolet exhaust of the missile that shot from the weapon. The Pakkrat had fired on the Bio-hunter. Lastly, her own ship called her inside it. She entered and jumped into her pilot's chair. She did not get to see the missile explode. She grabbed the double, horizontal sticks of her helm and swung the *Kitten* to face the Bio-hunter ship. Targeting the ship, Siobhan saw that the grave-robbers' vessel was covered in dark matter from port wingtip to its port fuselage. The strange substance was destroying matter at the quantum level rapidly without explosions. Sparks and gasses erupted from the gaping hull as the Bio-hunter returned fire. But there was a hazy white field about the target that spoiled the exacting beam weapon that shot the trader's ship. Though the beam landed, it merely tested the shield instead of truly trying it earnestly. Siobhan guessed as she pulled her triggers that it had something to do with the white glow and beam from the Terran vessel. Her chain-guns rattled deadly explosive, prototype rounds at the Bio-hunter which at first rammed at the shield of the interceptor. But with the rounds overloading the shield, it was the second volley of other missiles from the Pakkrat's ship that passed the outer shield. Another beam shot the Tradesman, again weakened by the white field about it. Was it the Ancient artifact? Finally, the Bio-hunter's shields were down and already the enemy was overmatched by the guns of the Warrior and the third volley from the Terran trader. The rounds and missiles continued to pound until the entire ship exploded in an energy wave that pushed on the two ships. "Travel gear!" called the Pakkrat again in the lead position. "I've got another on my scanner. Let's get the hell outta here!" Over the comm-screen, Siobhan could see him hit two buttons on his console at once. Her vessel, the *Kitten* was blessed by the Tradesman with heightened engineering as she scrambled to replace her combat devices with warp-enhancing gear and navigational supplements. The other button called upon his reactor to recharge his shields. *RE-VAMP!* reported his shields. She could see in the group status display, that the *Labyrinth Runner's* shields were back to maximum as the formation spun for the vector in which they had come. "Go!" she called once she saw her devices had properly seated. The two shot into the night from the necropolis asteroid. * * * *The pair were underway to Odin Rex as the **Andromeda** slowly trailed behind leisurely. Onboard, on the bridge, the Lady Isabel DeWynter played back the recorded telemetry of the second battle in which the Pakkrat had used the weapon.* *"By my guess, the dark matter is mistaken by normal, defensive shielding to be non-existent and therefore not a threat," noted the Lady out loud. Joga, near her and also monitoring the recording nodded in concurrence. De Wynter continued, "So, since the weapon is not a threat, the shields don't deflect it."* *"An impressive weapon, Mistress, that would put Terrans decades before all others in the arms race," added the Progen female secretary. She remained stoic the entire playback.* *"I want it," said DeWynter, "but first I want him to use it on the cause of all this mess."* * * * "I still don't see why the hero Amah is involved, Pakk," said Siobhan as she flew the lead position in the formation. The man from North America, Earth had been skimming the leather bound journal of the late Dr. Cuinnit Dougal during the trek to distant and strange Lagarto sector. He took a bit to answer, but the Pakkrat came up for air. "Siobhan, something was goading Dougal to forge the weapon. The same force or forces also provided him everything he needed. It's right here in his journal and notes, like he won a lottery or something." "What is a lottery?" asked Siobhan whose voice searched him for another new word from his past. "You know, a lottery," said the Pakkrat pausing again from the journal. "It's a random drawing of numbers or characters in hopes that a match from contestant population will determine a winner." "Such charity," noted the Progen woman, "would be unnecessary in the Republic. All are given everything they need to serve. Beyond that is merely a matter of exerting a little more effort to earn what what desires." "Well look at when and where I come from, Warrior," said the Pakkrat. "True." "Dougal assembled the weapon at the whim of whatever or whomever was driving him," recounted the trader. "But how could they have known about your Progen Amah hero so distant in the future? It's like Dougal's benefactor knew the future." "Hence why we are on our way to ask her?" asked Siobhan. "We also need to stay well away from InfinitiCorp, GETCo and Progen space if you've forgotten that you are the one who talked to your Progen Virturals machine," reminded the man. "We are begging for reclamation," said Siobhan. It was his turn, so he asked, "Reclamation?" "You might say, back in your era, that we are digging our own graves, Terran of the Space Age." "Oh," nodded the Pakkrat. Then he continued reading in the dead man's journal. Arriving in far-off Lagarto sector in the Gallina solar system, Siobhan halted the formation after gating. She turned to the Pakkrat, "You do know that since the collapse of the Appian Gate, that the route Amah took is nigh-unusable." "Something that was said back at Earth Station leads me to think otherwise," disagreed the man. "Did someone speak to you?" "In a manner," answered the Pakkrat. "Just hug the rimward fringe of the sector as you travel spinward. I've learned a thing or two in my short time here in the Crystal Age. I find paths that others write off." "A wonder that you are not one of Hyperia's Scouts," said Siobhan. "Yes, but I ride just behind the explorers most days," smiled the trader. The formation traveled past the gravitational anomalies, wrecks of spaceships, fields of silent asteroids to the outer edge furthest from Lagarto Planet and its two moons. Siobhan was verbally surprised at the little-known fact that the gravity wells did not inhibit travel all the way out to this extreme range. Soon, off the starboard bow and some distance away, the passive scopes acquired targets of a small space station and a construction yard. As the formation drew closer along its own track, the structures looked Terran in make. Rounding the rimward - spinward corner of Lagarto sector, the Warrior and the Terran beheld a massive third structure that gleamed like a new InfinitiGate, yet it was most assuredly not from the corporation of that name. The station facility hailed the two ships as they approached carefully. Siobhan answered the call. "Welcome travellers to the Hyperia Office and Construction site of the Hyperia Gate to Deneb. This is restricted space under the flag of Hyperia. Would you identify your vessels please?" It was a male voice, familiar to the Pakkrat who answered first. "Merchant Prince Pakkrat onboard the *Labyrinth Runner*, sir and we have need of passage to Deneb," said the trader in response. Siobhan added her own identity, "Praefect Siobhan of the Centuriata aboard the *Kitten*, the Pakkrat's wingman in this journey." Pakkrat looked over at the bright and hot pink Warrior vessel and spoke to her, "Kitten?" "Hush, rat," countered Siobhan. The station's signal displayed a younger man who stood on the monitor, wearing work technician's overalls. Many instruments and tools filled his pockets. He adjusted the lens goggles on his head. "I am Loric de Grey, administer of this Hyperia project and let me say that unless you can somehow re-open the radiated and dangerous Appian Gate, your trip is in vain. Even my Hyperia Gate is not ready to go online. I still lack the right type of crystal of inverted matter planes and crystal lattice structure...." Loric rattled of another five seconds of technical jargon totally lost on the Pakkrat. "Sir, I - that is we - being men of hard empirical evidence don't believe in coincidences," cut in the trader. "I may have what you are looking for." "Pakk, what are you doing?" asked Siobhan. "What did you bring me?" requested Administrator Grey. "The load in one of these warheads of this missile may solve your problem, sir," said the Pakkrat as he tractored a dark matter missile to the station. It was received and a minute went by with no exchange. The man then turned to Siobhan. "Do you believe in fate, Warrior," asked the trader. "I believe I make my own way as I serve the Republic, Terran," answered Siobahn. "Good," said the Pakkrat. "Then we agree that we are being goaded, not by fate, but whatever was also driving Dougal back in my day." "Eureka!" called Loric de Grey interrupting. "The inverse planes of this sample perfectly match the negative energy needed to focus the plama ener-" "Will it make your Gate work sir?" Pakkrat had no time for technicalities. The trader wanted to be on the far side of this gate. The hairs on his neck were starting to stand up again. He looked over his shoulder and out a viewport at the starry sky behind the formation. "Well, there may need to be some preliminary tests but-" Loric tried to explain. "We need to go to Deneb now. You have what you need as our fare." "Well it's your funeral, sir and your gene-map, ma'am." "Progen do not fear, Administrator," said Siobhan. Many construction robots swarmed from the Hyperia Office to the staging yard where the new Hyperia Gate stood dormant. Lights came on and illuminated the prototype stargate fully. It gleamed with new technologies unlike the two newcomers had ever seen. In minutes, Lorics robots had included the dark matter into the systems of the Hyperia Gate's field emitters. Pakkrat did not want to think much further into how it all worked. His worry was that the pair were somehow still being hounded, either by the force that guided Dr. Cuinnit Dougal or the thing or things that were raising his hackles. He took the lead position in the formation and flew to the entry vector of the Hyperia Gate. The Pakkrat saw gating systems come online and his sensors detected a power build-up. The Hyperia Gate was spooling up its wormhole to Deneb! Then the gating option appeared on the pair's targeters. The Pakkrat took a breath then pressed the actuating button to begin gating. The formation drifted forward slowly, into the field rimmed in plasma. "Yea though I walk through the shadow of the Valley of Death..." Siobhan finished with, "....I shall fear no evil, for I am the baddest mutherfucker in this Valley." "That's not how the origi-" said the Pakkrat before being interrupted by the gate to the far side of the galaxy.
  21. The Thule Project - Ch. V by Pakkrat V. Though there was no initial trace of the comet that had stranded the elder *Labyrinth Runner*, the space of Ceres/Thule was becoming more and more familiar to the Pakkrat. He noted the massive asteroid Ceres which greeted the awakened sleeper once more. Strangely, the rocky body featured a crater that was coated in ice, an indicator of an impact in the past. The old nav-bouys of Ceres/Thule were still functioning, though they looked aged and neglected. They were spread across the sector in a reaching S-shape, with Ceres at the upper, spinward terminus and the other planetoid rock, presumably named Thule at the other, trailing end. "Do you remember your entry vector to this region, Pakkrat?" asked Siobhan as if the detail were a tactical analysis of the trader's plight more than 160 years ago. "Yeah," answered the Pakkrat who continued, " I was caught from behind by the comet's tail as I and it entered here on the coreward border." He spun the new *Labyrinth Runner* and over the course of minutes he began re-tracing his flight path through space so long ago. "There were comet rocks hammering the hull all around," described the Pakkrat. "The first to go was the warp drive when a huge one took it offline. Then more and more systems went red. I could not out-run the comet. This entire area was thick like a cloud with ice and stone." The Pakkrat flew on toward Ceres on impulse thrust as he had so long ago. Looking to Ceres ahead he made a connection. "The comet must have been caught by Ceres after I shut down the hauler inside a porous asteroid." He could not say why inwardly, but he looked over his port side shoulder at Thule, the rocky planetoid. He felt like he was being watched as the hairs on his neck rose. He shrugged of the tingle and continued his flight by saying, "land of the unattainable..." It took over an hour for the Terran to lock his targeter on the correct asteroid. It looked cracked open like a ripped sponge of black and gray minerals to get at the derelict ship it once housed. The drones had done a powerful job of gaining access to the salvage. The site was stationary at a LaGrange point between Ceres and the Eris nav-bouy. The site's details became clearer in the Pakkrat's memory as he narrated his attempt to seek shelter here from the comet hail storm. "....then the ship up and died on me with only batteries left," the trader finished. "I cracked open the cargo bay to let the radiation become detectable then went to sleep." "The radiation is long gone by my sensors," announced Siobhan. "We can set down safely now that the comet is quite dead on the surface of Ceres." The two exited after anchoring their craft to the asteroid. In spacesuits, the pair searched the icy site. "The drones were given simple instructions to salvage the ship, but there's still debris all over here," said the Pakkrat kicking over several plates of his old ship's hull. "I just bet that there's still something here that they missed." Siobhan merely nodded and continued searching along the depression that once housed the derelict vessel. Being driven, Pakkrat spotted it first minutes later. It was a heavily shielded cargo container buried in pulverized ice and rock. Only a yellow-and-black hazard stripe was initially visible underneath. It took some digging and exposure to fully appreciate the size of the thing that was once hidden inside radioactive weapons-grade uranium. Depleted uranium slag surrounded the object. It took a diamond saw to cut the frozen container latches free to open the cargo container. With her vambrace torch shining on the contents, Siobhan whistled her amazement. The two gazed a long time over the perfectly preserved items inside the huge container. The largest and most readily recognizable object was some form of missile launcher. Of Terran make obviously during the Space Age, the weapon looked factory new. Alongside the launcher were quite a few missiles as a factory sample clearly to roll out on the red carpet. There were design schematics and even a thick brochure on the weapon. Finally, there was a laserdisc that was attached to the brochure that was only marked with black marker writing saying "Notes." While the Pakkrat picked up the curious laserdisc, Siobhan lifted the brochure and began perusing it. "Terran-made," said Siobhan. "InfinitiCorp presents a new horizon in weapons technology far ahead of its time." She read on aloud, "The Prototype Dark Matter Launcher Tech Level 9 promises to deliver a payload like no other." Pakkrat stopped her by saying, "It's too heavy to lift with just the two of us. We'll have to tractor it aboard my ship. Let's gather this and have a further look away from my former grave." Fully exposing the huge container by hand, the pair then returned to their ships. Then the huge container was lifted by tractor beam to the Pakkrat's Tradesman. While he was checking for system compatibility, Siobhan continued to read from the brochure. "It's some sort of research and development weapon that never arrived at production," Siobhan. "It was to be produced on Earth but by this never reached the assembly line." Pakkrat looked at the laserdisc. "'Notes', huh?" asked the trader to the object in his hands. "I just bet," he wagered to the physical datastore, "that you did not come with the intended package." He slid the laserdisc into his old player and made sure Siobhan was included. Outside the formation, the rocky planetoid Thule featured in the distance as they thrust from the old resting place asteroid. The two watched their monitors as a Terran man with red hair became visible in the playback: "To whomever opens this recording," began the red-haired researcher. In the background of the man was a laboratory of some Terran facility. "When the corp discovered that I was onto something.....something huge and far ahead of its true time, they wanted it. This thing is not for the likes of InfinitiCorp, nor anyone in this day and age. I don't believe I was intended to ever see this prototype tested either. It's too big for even me. I named it the 'Thule Project' because of its far-off and distant, unattainable nature. The thing should never have come to me, in my dreams. It is a weapon and is beyond anything I've ever seen in these times." "When," continued the researcher on the recording, "the design came to me in my sleep, I knew at its completion that I had to get rid of it. It is a weapon and the strange artifact that was buried in the dark matter on the Thule asteroid should never have been unearthed. The design fitted it perfectly and still had room for two more. It was like a coincidence had found its mark. The dreams I endured from.....I don't know where or when, welcomed the ancient thing as if they were meant to work together in tandem." The Pakkrat paused the recording to have another look at the missile launcher. In the cargo bay, he scrutinized the ammunition feed. There were three slots, cradles, or mounts for devices. One was presently occupied. "What is it, Terran?" asked Siobhan who was apparently watching the recording. "It's there on the launcher," answered the Pakkrat. He could see it clearly. It was an Ancient artifact, an octahedral diamond of orange-gold metal alloy that housed or framed a large crystal of some mineral. It was inert at the moment and did not emit any light. It sat cradled by the prototype launcher in one of three slots. It lent whatever was written in its quantum-level containment in the lattice of its crystal structure to its host weapon. Ancient artifacts, labeled 'aa' and often accompanying some odd name in an unknown language were archaeological treasures found throughout the galaxy by pilots of the Crystal Age. The Trader had no idea yet what this particular artifact was or its function, but he could guess it had something to do with augmenting the weapon. Many framed crystals like this large one had been found. Certainly not the largest the Pakkrat had ever beheld, it was in the upper echelon of the Ancient family of odd devices. Each aa-device was a treasure and priceless. The man from Earth could only guess that this one, mated to the Prototype Dark Matter Launcher was meant for compatibility to Terran technology. But its exact function was unfathomable. "What is on the launcher?," asked Siobhan. "Mounted to the weapon is an Ancient Artifact, Siobhan," answered the amazed man. "That pre-dates the first discovered Ancient Artifact by," Siobhan did the quick math, "over 150 years, Terran." "I don't think this was meant to be discovered, Warrior," speculated the trader. "I think this was sent to the researcher on purpose rather than some random find. Let's see what else he has to say." He then un-paused the recorded message by the red-haired man. "The weapon's schematics were included, but only as an estimate of its performance. I never allowed this thing to be tested. I had little time to get rid of it. Everyone would want me to hand it over them for a bonus in pay. They'd kill to have it and the blueprints. I was thus in danger, you see. Even now, I record this message as I make my defection from the corp." "I urge you, whomever you are, to do one thing with it." Here the researcher seemed to adopt a worried look. "The dreams. They had horrible images of something dark out of a solar system - Deneb, I think it was in the dream. Someone will bring down humanity there. Her name is Amah, a Progen I think, and she is the key. If she can be destroyed before she arrives in that dark system, humanity can be saved. I'm no prophet, but that is what I dreamed, not by my choice mind you. Destroy her and save our future. As for me, I'm leaving this dilemma as I escape to GETCo. Dr. Cuinnit Dougal out." "So," concluded Siobhan, "this researcher, Kenneth, he dreams up and makes a weapon utilizing dark matter ammunition along with an Ancient Artifact. Then he has prophetic dreams of Amah, the most decorated Centuriata Warrior in Progen history under Anjuren Kahn, over 160 years before today." The Pakkrat finished for the Warrior, "He and us by extension are being played." Siobhan wrinkled her nose, "Played? Amah is no game, Pakkrat." "No, I mean we are being manipulated by something spanning all this time. Someone is messing with us. Someone clearly really old or with a succession of accomplices." The Pakkrat rubbed his beard again in thought. The man ran down the list of the timeline. An InfinitiCorp researcher receives a discovered deposit of dark matter, a never-before-seen Ancient Artifact and begins to have dreams of making a weapon. Realizing what he had created, Dougal then decides it was too dangerous for anyone, Jenquai, Progen and Terran. To get rid of it he sends it away. Pakkrat ran the idea to Siobhan as he continued to compile the details. Siobhan then added her thoughts, "You then were to deliver the weapon and the device but someone else decided to try to direct you to where they could intercept you and take it. But the comet got to your hauler first." "Finn swore he had nothing to do with it," continued the trader. "He just put the shipment inside some weapons-grade uranium and then onboard my hauler with the shielded container inside it all to hide its presence." Seeing the logic fit together, Siobhan added, "Then you sleep 161 years, waiting for rescue. The *Warthog*, a Progen mining ship arrives and Calls your gene-map, but they too miss the weapon inside the cargo bay, seeing only the radioactive payload. Then they leave Terran space (at the time) and never admit to being there." Pakkrat nodded. He was getting excited to finally get answers. "I get Called, Ravindran turns in my gene-map and gets his in the Gate War. I sleep it off and am rescued here in the Crystal Age by InfinitiCorp because my beacon was mysteriously reactivated. Siobhan, I think that DeWynter signed off on the rescue because she called up some record or something. She could have written me and the ship off easily." The Progen woman answered with, "She has you rescued with an unmanned, probe mission so that nobody discovers what you supposedly have in your ship's hold. When she does not find it, she waits you out. You're the only one who knows what happened during the comet and the route you undertook." She was feeding into this and was almost excited as the Pakkrat. "But then," said the trader, "she didn't get the package. The drones or maybe the miners aboard the *Warthog* dislodged it from the hold." Both of them spoke at the same time. "We're being followed." Pakkrat spoke first after noting the simultaneous, verbal intuition, "Do they know what it is?" "Anything valuable that required smuggling and deception has to be valuable. Very valuable." Siobhan watched at the Pakkrat mounted the weapon, replacing an older missile launcher on a white wing rim of his Tradesman vessel. It looked dark, threatening and mysterious. The feed line to it looked like a serpent burrowing into the wing of the *Labyrinth Runner*. "Who do you think we will find when we leave this sector, Ceres/Thule?" asked the Pakkrat who was looking again at the Thule planetoid as if he were being watched by some deity that was having a laugh at his expense. "InfinitiCorp never got a look at it, but obviously knew that Dougal was working on it," said Siobhan. "Else why did he have to defect in secret? Perhaps GETCo took him in because they could tell he was running and had something to hide." The trader considered a moment, "I bet he didn't tell them what he was working on, but they could tell he was working on something big," "Then there were the dreams to start him off," reminded the Warrior. "Who was it that implanted him with such sleep-telepathy? Surely the Terran Psis of the times could not have. They were to little known before the Psionic Suppressions to do something like have InfinitiCorp make them a weapon." The Progen had some lessons in history, a history the Pakkrat had slept through. "Ancients maybe?" It was a shot in the dark Pakkrat took to make such a guess. Siobhan tilted her head. "Legends and more strangeness. Let us not blow this out of proportion. Yet, something prompted your diversion to this route that incapacitated your ship. I believe we may be dealing with a competitor entity that coveted the weapon. Ancients? Doubtful, Terran." Soon, the star gate to Venus sector returned to view. Pakkrat had purposefully taken his time at impulse speeds in hopes someone else would enter Ceres/Thule, thus exposing themselves as having followed the pair to this sector. None were present when they arrived at the gate. "Anything could happen on the far side of this gate, Siobhan," speculated the Terran. "Then let us prepare for the worst possibility," agreed the Warrior. Then both prepared their vessels for potential conflict once they emerged from gating. * * * *When asked if she wanted the **Andromeda** to enter Ceres/Thule after the employee and his Centuriata escort, Lady Isabel DeWynter opted to stay in Venus sector.* *"If the Pakkrat sees the gate rings start to spin on his end of the gate," explained the Lady, "he will know he was followed and will bolt. I want to watch this next segment. Rig for full stealth and I want scanner telemetry recordings."* *"Yes, Mistress," acknowledged the Progen female, Joga.* The black capital ship in quietus watched from Venus orbit as a small group of the crimson-hulled Red Dragon Dai Lo pirates lay in wait within scan range of the star gate. Signals were eavesdropped as the pirates made plans to liberate any good finds from the pair that had entered Ceres/Thule hours ago. They meant by their eagerness to turn in anything of value to the Tongs and no one would believe that the finds came from the long abandoned sector and route. The Red Dragon ships must have seen from afar the opening of the dormant gate and decided investigate apart from their usual clashes with their chief rival pirates, the Chavez in Venus sector. They were intent on robbing whomever re-emerged from Ceres/Thule. Bridge crew were silently making wagers on the InfinitiCorp Tradesman, paired with the Centuriata Warrior when pitted against six of the Dai Lo Tong of the Red Dragon. Their captain ignored them to observe the eventual encounter. To the COO of InfinitiCorp, the battle that ensued when the Pakkrat refused to surrender to the pirates was nothing impressing. The Warrior with him did most of the fighting as was their kind's way. He, being the most peaceful pawn on the board did little more than try to talk his way out of the situation even after guns on both sides started blazing. The Tradesman even tried to Befriend the Tong with gestures of payment for passage from Venus sector. This did little as the pirates took the gestures for weakness and that he was indeed carrying some imagined treasure beyond any bribe. The Praefect took point in their formation as the Tong swarmed about them, trying to cut off any escape. Only once was the Tradesman forced to use its widely-touted system to lend energy to another vessel in a shields recharging action. The Warrior, though bulwarked thusly, broke no stride in her stream of DigiApogee Prototype explosive head projectile ammunition. She merely swung the streaming arc of ordinance to the next pirate. More of the Dai Lo Tong arrived and turned the tide on the pair. It would be a battle of numbers versus the Pakkrat's reactor capacity. The red hulls of the pirates would eventually incapacitate the Warrior and then turn on the weakened Tradesman. It was only a matter of time. The InfinitiCorp leader bristled at the idea of emerging from stealth to help the employee and hotly denied the verbalized idea with a scowl. Let the Pakkrat dig himself out of the encounter. Rats excelled at living through harsh conditions. Then something humorous happened. The Pakkrat had purposefully allowed his shields to be penetrated and a Tong missile ripped open a section of his cargo bay. Tiny objects began spewing in a small cloud about the pair. Then sensors indicated that the Pakkrat's reactor had somehow received a second wind. He fired once at the un-touched Red Dragon that had shot his vessel. It was a missile, single and with a thrust trail that was violet-to-ultraviolet black. The missile silently covered the distance to the pristine red hull of the pirate. There was no visible report on the target's shield. The dark ordinance passed directly though and landed a direct hit. Telemetry, replayed later, would reveal that the pirate's shield failed to register or acknowledge the incoming missile, ignoring it as a threat entirely. The Red Dragon Dai Lo vessel was destroyed in a single hit by the strange weapon as it was taken down by a type of damage never before recorded. The Pakkrat had landed a blow through full shielding onto the target hull and the warhead overpowered the vessel's structure entirely. Its explosion was easy to see even from their position over Venus. Then the pirates were screaming to each other over communications that the tiny objects in a debris cloud were their coveted Mahjong game tiles. They instantly forgot the pair, forgot the one-shot-kill of their comrade and all pirates immediately started scooping up the tiles with hungry and individual tractor beams. They then assumed that this was the 'treasure' taken from Ceres/Thule, the sector the pair had emerged. But the Lady knew better. She immediately demanded of her crew the recording of the weapon that the Pakkrat had utilized. This was for her and her secretary's eyes only. This was the treasure of Thule! A perfect weapon if the telemetry was to be believed. The Lady ordered the *Andromeda* to follow the pair which had warped away from the chaotic looting pirates. But rather than escape to the safety of Asteroid Belt Beta and its SolSec neutrality, the pair veered off to the distant gate to Mercury sector, the closest planet to Sol's primary. It was a curious path and the Lady quietly wondered at the Pakkrat's decision-making. Mercury was the general territory of the Good Earth Trading Company, or GETCo for short. The only facility of note was StarClipper Station. Perhaps the two meant to acquire repairs there. But for the InfinitiCorp capital ship, it would have to run silent a while longer as it trailed the Pakkrat. * * * "Why did we leave?" asked Siobhan to the Pakkrat in the lead position. "We could have taken them. Did you not see what that missile did to them?" The Pakkrat, again freewarping to arrive at the sector gate to Mercury responded as he transmitted the request to the gate's opening, "I have less than a stack of this ammunition and I only fired it on reflex when he opened my hull." Siobhan suspected a half-lie from the Terran. The Merchant Prince must have had more reason than that to do what he did. "Then you did not mean to fight them at all. Why did you not tell me that was your intent when we gated to Venus?" "I don't think we were alone," answered the Pakkrat. "I can't explain it but ever since seeing Thule, I've been suffering someone walking on my grave." "But you are not dead, Terran." "No-," the trader had to stop and explain, "I was getting intuitive feelings of being spied on." "I think I now see your strange saying," said the Warrior. "The pirates were not the only enemies?" "I can't say for sure," mumbled the Pakkrat then raising his voice, "but we were wasting time with the pirates. I let them hit me and take the tiles. I told you I had a good stack or more of them collecting dust. It was enough, is all, to get us out of there." Some time later, after reaching the far gate to Mercury sector, the two gated there and travelled onward to StarClipper Station. Like Aragoth Station, the research facility near the planet Mercury was heavily shielded with large, treated metal plates used as a deflector for the incoming solar radiation winds. The station here was Terran in design where Aragoth Station was largely a Jenquai construction. Hosted and sponsored by GETCo, the Trader and the Warrior were greeted by automatic welcome messages from the company as they docked. Detecting the hull damage to the *Labyrinth Runner*, station repair robots immediately swarmed the ship to assess damage and conduct repairs. This would of course deduct a fair amount from the Trader's credit account. The Merchant Prince sighed every time his earned finances took a hit. It was almost personal between the Pakkrat and the rest of the universe. Inside the facility's main lobby, the station was divided between those researchers, technicians, station crew, and a news desk affiliate of Net-7 News. The pair made way inside. All about were busy people, going on about their tasks, duties, projects, and the press was ever present, yearning for a scoop. While Siobhan split off to a manufacturing terminal to assemble ammunition for her ship's weapons, the Pakkrat went to the lounge to use the network terminal. An attendant from the hosting company greeted him. "Welcome to GETCo's StarClipper station," the woman in a business suit said with a corporate smile. "Hi there," returned the trader. "I need help finding an employee of GETCo." "Is he here aboard the station perhaps?" asked the employee lady. "I doubt it," answered the Pakkrat. "He said he was joining GETCo to continue his life's work." The attendant stepped up to the net terminal to cycle a few menus. "Do know the name of this employee?" "Yes," said the man from Earth hopefully. "His name was Doctor Cuinnit Dougal and he was in research in development when he left his old job." "Was?" noted the attendant more as a statement than a question. "Let's see," she said as the scrolled through rosters on the holographic display with her hands. Soon, the woman had the name up and called the file on a separate display. There was the red-haired man from the old laserdisc. He looked a little worse for the wear to the Pakkrat's eyes. There was a nervousness to his demeanor in the image. "Seems that this Dr. Dougal came to work for GETCo over 150 years ago, sir," noted the lady. "I think you are a bit late to meet with him. It says here that he disappeared from his job and was suspected of stealing GETCo property. Authorities tracked his movements but never apprehended the researcher when he escaped aboard an outbound Freespacer Void-liner to the deep reaches. This of course was back before the discovery of Akeron's Gate. Whereabouts unknown. End of file." The Pakkrat rubbed his beard again in thought before asking, "Any idea what was stolen?" "There is no listing but given the priority of the doctor's capture, I could guess that he either made off with something very valuable or a lot of something not-so-valuable." The attendant then turned on the trader. "You are from InfinitiCorp, right?" "Yes," answered the Pakkrat. "Why?" "Aren't you that guy that IC rescued a couple of years back from a derelict ship?" The woman was scrutinizing the Pakkrat now. "Yeah and the insurance money is still held up in courts," said the Pakkrat, "Thank you for your help, ma'am. I have to go now." He left the attendant promptly. It felt good but not good enough that he was remembered by anyone who was watching the news at the time of his awakening from that coma. Yet after the search for Dr. Dougal, the Pakkrat felt like a corporate spy now. Hastily, he made way back to the hangar where Siobhan was overseeing the last of her ordinance loaded into the cargo bay of the *Kitten*. Siobhan saw the trader's imperative step toward her and asked at his arrival, "What did you learn?" Pakkrat cleared his throat nervously, "Dougal went to work for GETCo and by the look of it got into trouble with them too. He took a one-way ticket on one of those old Freespacer Void-liner ships into exile when it was discovered that he had stolen something from them. Something big in the way of expensive." "He may have had the item with him when he escaped," conjectured the Warrior. The last of the ammunition was loaded. The pair then entered their respective ships and began to undock. "But back in my day," explained the Pakkrat, "the Freespacers didn't have any stargates. They did things the slow and hard way." "We will have to ask some Freespacers then," said Siobhan, "perhaps at one of their gathering places. I hear they do so every so often to have a moot-meeting of their families." "Have any ideas where they gather?" "Just one. Let's go." Siobhan moved to assume the formation's lead position, but the Pakkrat stopped her. "I'm driving. This is important." The Progen woman seemed mildly surprised, yet she let the Terran man lead. Siobhan locked navigation computers with the Pakkrat's and said, "To Jotunheim then." Then she sat back and let him drive. The two shot from the blaze of the sun. Rather than backtrack, the Pakkrat took formation forward, beyond StarClipper Station to the sector gate to Pluto and Charon on the edge of the Sol system. Again the trader from Terra freewarped in a direct line across the sector, cutting as much time off the journey as possible. * * * *"They just left StarClipper Station, Mistress," reported Joga to her Lady DeWynter, "but they took the back route to Pluto and Charon sector."* * DeWynter smiled. "Of course he would," she said. "He wants out of Sol before anyone learns of what he has on his wing. Follow him, but let's stay as quiet as possible. I want to see how GETCo came into this. He didn't just dock here for repairs or else he'd have left already."*
  22. The Thule Project - Ch. IV by Pakkrat IV. "I don't get it," said the Pakkrat as Siobhan led the pair of vessels from Varen's Girdle, through Aragoth Prime and further sectors back towards civilized space. "Why did you stop me and why did we leave? Couldn't you have leaned on him, y'know, point a gun at him or something to get him to open up?" "Pakkrat, the Progen does not fear death," explained Siobhan. She tried to further explain. "We were not going to learn anything more than what he told us. You see, Talus-N Ravindran does not remember what Talus-M Ravindran did." "I don't understand." "When he Answered the Call Forward, the memory of Calling your gene-map was excluded from his matrix - on purpose, I believe." Siobhan continued seeing the Pakkrat still listening. The formation raced onward. She needed to put some distance between the pair and the Sabine Order. "Memories can be voluntarily left out, especially if too traumatic to the Progen. I too once gave up memories of past lives during which I had done terrible things for the Republic. Only recently have I been given them back through Jenquai psionics. But that is another story. The Specialist does not remember Calling your gene-map because the Sabine Order knew this was heretical and against ethics. They let him Answer the Call without that memory." "We departed because now Talus-N will start asking questions to his Sabine Order and I want to be well away when he does not get his answers." Siobhan was pleasantly surprised that the Pakkrat was still listening to her as she continued, "But we do have enough of a lead. The Specialist made a confessional to the Virtuals on Mars before he fell during the Gate War." "Again," asked the Pakkrat, "what are these 'Virtuals'?" Siobhan continued to explain, "I was about to cover that. Listen, the Virtuals are the recorded personalities of all the past Primarchs of the Progen Republic. They are kept in a vast computer on Olympus Mons, Mars. They hold the sum total of all Primarchs that have ever led the Republic. Only a Primarch or the Sabine Order can access the Virtuals. It is an almost sanctified privilege of the ruling Primarch and the maintenance of the Sabine Order entrusted with the upkeep of the Machina Republica. It holds the consciousnesses of every Primarch and are not to be disturbed except in times of extreme duress." "Then we're screwed," said the Pakkrat. "We can't just barge in and ask to question a bunch of dead guys' machine-ghosts for Talus-M's confession-thing, can we?" Siobhan smiled slightly. "I think I know a way to do so." The Pakkrat seemed to recoil from her on the comm monitor. "Just who are you?" "Get us to Mars as fast as you can, Terran," half-ordered Siobhan. As sectors flew by with the Pakkrat in the lead, Siobhan pondered if she truly did have the authority to make good on her idea. With the former Primarch, Anjuren Kahn in exile, the Republic without a true leader in the position, no non-Sabine could interface with and access the honored Virtuals. Siobhan hoped her own story would give her what she needed. The Dr. Pakkratius' words were starting to prove why he chose to sit out on this adventure. His clues with the erased memories of Ravindran's were proving that an unauthorized Call Forward was indeed given to the Pakkrat. Siobhan was beginning to believe that this went much deeper and was being covered up by the Sabine Order. Dare she think that Magna Vinda was involved? The confessional Talus-N had leaked was remembered because any Progen could give such to the Machina Republica one-way to the Virtuals. This was often done with reverence and as well before a Warrior went into battle in case their gene-map was never recovered. The confessional existed so that the Progen could unburden themselves to the Republic's highest authorities of the past without repercussion, before going into battle, in this case during the Gate War. While the memory of Calling the Pakkrat was erased, perhaps the Specialist had spoken to the Virtuals about it before he fell. All Siobhan could hope to do now was to attain access to the Machina Republica on Olympus Mons, the highest mountain on Mars where the Virtuals were kept in reverence. Whomever eradicated Talus-N's memories was not aware that he had spoken his confession to the holy Primarchs of the past. But did Siobhan have what it took to access the Machina Republica? Sectors flew by as Siobhan watched the Pakkrat's finest freewarp flying. He drove the formation on all night while she rested. He was driven, this Terran and she was beginning to like him. This man from Terran past, took her on dates, spoke politely to Siobhan and did not seem to mind expenses and risk he was willing to undertake. She contemplated what might be found when the two were before the Virtuals on Mars. Eventually, the Red Planet came into view as the Terran and the Sabura gated into Mars sector. With the twin asteroid cannons, Romulus and Remus, straddling the the planet and all in orbit over the red terrain, the two vessels approached to near-orbit and held geostationary position above. Siobhan breathed a hopeful sigh before she committed to this unauthorized intrusion. Would the Virtuals answer her high above them? The connection to the Machina Republica could only be a one-on-one, tight lasercom beam to Olympus Mons. Siobhan's hand hovered over the transmission button on her console to make contact with the holiest place on Mars. This would be no confession she was about to engage. Even if she failed to access the Virtuals, the Warrior's attempt would be logged on record. This was an all-or-nothing act she was about to undertake for the Pakkrat and the search for the truth about him and the Sabine Order's doings. *Vita Theodora, help me*, she prayed with closed eyes when she pressed the transmission button. The lasercom beam shot from the *Kitten* down to the tallest mountain on Mars. The connection landed at a communications tower and was received. A second passed as identification information was exchanged between Olympus Mons and the Sabura Warrior. There was a second of silence that seemed to stretch to Siobhan's nervous anticipation. The First Sabura, though Called from Centuriata stock, was still a project of the Sabine Order and never severed to its own recognizance. Thus the Sabura were to the rest of the Progen Republic still one with the Sabine Order. With her hidden status as the First Sabura in particular, Siobhan was right under Magna Vinda in authority, though Vinda herself had overlooked this fact by mistake. It allowed the First Sabura access. With relief, Siobhan, the only non-Primarch and non-Sabine Sentinel to make contact with the Virtuals was answered by the many voices of Primarchs past. "WHO CALLS UPON THE HALLS OF THE VIRTUALS?" asked the many voices speaking as one, powerful entity. "Holy Primarchs of the past," answered the Warrior, "it is I, Siobhan the First Sabura who seeks your counsel." There was another eternal second of silence before the Virtuals spoke again, more softly this time, yet still as many-in-one, "Ask, First Sabura whom we do not know yet acknowledge your access." With unbidden tears in her eyes, Siobhan began to tap the Virtuals for the confession of Talus-M Ravindran and what else she could learn of the Call Forward of the Pakkrat. It was a very intimate while that passed between Siobhan and the Primarchs of Progen past. Never before had such a sinful heresy and yet so powerful a connection been accomplished and Siobhan was awestruck by it. Her body trembled nervously as she asked of the dead. It was psycho-spiritual in nature, holy in experience, and a wonder of science that she sought such counsel. Thankfully, the Pakkrat did not intrude upon this communion by asking what transpired. * * * The Terran watched Siobhan's face from start to finish on the communications monitor. The Warrior looked like she had seen a ghost, was speaking to the Almighty, and interfacing with a supercomputer all at once. She was crying, sobbing, and speaking with reverence, though the trader could not hear was was being said. The Pakkrat tried to catch a word or two with the movements of her lips but in the end gave up. This was the girl's moment and as such he chose not to spoil it and anger her. Instead he watched the time and clocked her connection with Olympus Mons. After only a few minutes, the deep red lasercom beam faded and Siobhan ended the transmission with a bowed head and a salute across her chest. Then she made contact with the Terran. "We have to get out of here now," said Siobhan. "Are we in danger?" asked the Pakkrat. "We will be soon if we are still here." "Where to then?" asked the trader. "Anywhere but Progen space," answered the Warrior still reeling from the interface a moment ago. "Good," said the Pakkrat as he spun the formation about to face the way they had come to Mars sector, "I've about had enough of Progen space." He began the rapid, freewarp run to Earth. The Pakkrat decided it was time to look on his own lead that he had left in addition to what Siobhan had gleaned from the dead, whomever they were. He warped past the checkpoints, past the huge red capital ships and stations. In a direct line, the formation made the star gate and passed through its created fields into Asteroid Belt Gamma. From there it would be to Asteroid Belt Beta and then Alpha before the safety of the blue gem of Sol, Earth. There was no doubt in the Pakkrat's mind that he was now in trouble with the Progen Republic. With the girl accessing that which she should not have been able to access, the Pakkrat was now an accessory to espionage of the highest order. They might call him a spy or thief or worse. He was now tied to this woman who alone could explain what he was doing over Mars and tapping the Machina Republica. He listened to her findings. She told of her communion with reverence yet imperative force. "You were Called Forward, Pakkrat. It was no mistake. He knew you were there, Talus-M. It was a mining ship named the *Warthog* that found you. The Sabine Reclaimer (at the time) alone knew you were alive and in cryostasis. The crew knew nothing but a dead Terran derelict ship in an asteroid. Talus-M took enough samples from your arm to map your genes. Then he snuck them back aboard the miner craft and back to Progen space. His confession said that he could not save you because the miners looted your ship for whatever was available. Yet, they took only enough so as to not raise suspicions that they had ever been present. Talus-M was the Progen to repair the distress beacon. He saved your life, Pakkrat. You would still be sleeping in that ice and rock if he had not. Your gene-map then went into storage after it was analyzed for traits the Sabine Order were in need in those times." "This has to be why Dr. Pakkratius and Imperator Pakkrateus have your genes, Pakkrat. You are the original. You are their clone father. They are Progen, yes, but they have your gene-map inside a Progen matrix. I do not know how it works being that I am just a Warrior, but somehow the Sabine included you into the Progen Republic, a secret that would get us killed, reclaimed, destroyed and denied in that order." Siobhan digested the revelation, "Oh, Pakkrat why did this happen? The confession did not say why the Progen decided to clone you, twice, while you still lived. It also does not say why Terran genes were selected. Finally, the confession does not give the reason why you could not be saved then and there." The Pakkrat savored this new information. He had clone Progen sons, from his own genes by a dead Reclaimer who did not remember him. Cover-ups. Heretical and unethical Call Forward. His gene-map, the rescue, the recovery, and the suffering he endured this past two years with no answers from his own InfinitiCorp. Why had the Finn sent him to the comet? Did the Finn know ahead of time that the *Labyrinth Runner* would be incapacitated by it? "I don't know the answers," said Pakkrat who re-focused upon his route to Earth sector, "but I know a dead guy of my own I can ask." Soon enough the Blue Planet came into view. Before it was the super-disc of Earth Station, humanity's oldest, still-operational orbital platform. The octagonal space station welcomed the tiny duo into its hangar shortly after their arrival in the sector. Exiting their craft the two made for the residential section of the station. The news feeds blared over the crowds of Terrans moving about the station: *"We need to clean up Earth Station...."* It was the quoted Lady Isabella DeWynter whom the news was mentioning. The pair moved through the station at the guidance of the Pakkrat who alone knew where he was headed. Siobhan merely followed him even as she looked over her shoulder a few times to check for followers. *"Loric de Grey of Hyperia is close to completion of a new gate in Lagarto, Gallina, but not everyone wants him to succeed....."* A picture of a Terran man bedecked with gizmos and gadgets was interviewed on the news monitors. The Pakkrat took notice of the man, but then continued deeper into the commons. Down several decks of Earth Station the two descended by the emergency stairs. The population of the orbital platform thinned as they went down flight after flight. Siobhan when they were alone in a corridor asked, "This seems a strange final resting place for Terrans." "We aren't going to dig up a body or anything," said the Pakkrat who was now taking steps two at a time. The floor that the Pakkrat chose was only half-illuminated by station lights. It was analogous to an orbital slum where, here and there, a domicile door was stuck half-open or not present. The Terran Trader continued down the slightly curving corridor. Siobhan followed behind him with her hand on the Athanor pistol. Past many squatters in this level they went with a purpose in the trader's step. Once, a Terran vagrant in these lower tunnels asked for a handout from the couple. Siobhan was about to step forward to repulse the beggar, when her partner fished out a palm-sized object and handed it to the beggar. "Here," said the Pakkrat. "Take this, sell it only on the black market and only after hours. It will see to your needs if you are careful enough. In trade, we were never here. Understand?" The beggar nodded as his hand closed over the item. Siobhan barely had time to see what the beggar pocketed as the Pakkrat quickly trudged froward. She saw the vagrant hide a Mahjong tile in his coat pocket. The Warrior had heard that the pirates of the Red Dragon Tongs valued the ancient Earth gambling game from China and coveted the game tiles wherever they turned up. It was a point of pride to the pirates to own a complete set. The Pakkrat had just handed over a valuable collectable to the beggar like it was a donation to the poor. Then, barely breaking stride, the man from Earth continued down the corridor. Stopping before a taped-off apartment door, the Pakkrat spoke to Siobhan, "I have quite a few of them in my hold." Siobhan seemed alarmed that the trader had such items just collecting dust in his ship when he could make a deal with the pirate organization for them. He had altruistically given the beggar about a year's sustenance on a whim. When the Terran tried to force the door, Siobhan showed him how to do it more efficiently. Then she stepped aside with her pistol out. He entered with a nod of quiet thanks. The lights flickered and the air was stale. The air conduit system was deactivated and dust covered everything. The apartment seemed empty of humanity for a long time. It was quite looted of anything valuable and only various debris remained. The two moved, one after the other through the living space. Siobhan clicked on her vambrace light torch to better illuminate the area before them. There was a quick movement as something scrambled from behind a shattered chair to a floor duct. Skittering claws of a rodent or some other vermin earned Siobhan's attention, her pistol tracking the animal's path. She let out a sigh. "I hate rats," she said with a disarming sigh. "That's too bad," whispered the Pakkrat. "They're great survivors." The pair entered what was once a bedroom. It was picked clean with only dust and more debris to greet them. "There's nothing here," whispered Siobhan. The Pakkrat was looking at a wall panel's rusty screws, "Oh, it's here alright. The Finn would've hidden his soul here if he could have. Got a screwdriver?" Siobhan, barely proficient at systems repair-on-the-fly, produced a small tool-set from her armored utility belt. Handing it to the trader, she shone her torch on the panel of his attention. With occasional squeaking screws, the Pakkrat soon had the panel off the decayed wall and was reaching into it with his arm. "C'mon, Finn," said the man, "you showed it to me long ago. Surely you left something here.....aha!" The trader removed his arm from the opened wall. In his hand was a circular, laserdisc from long ago. Today's hard storage came in the form of hexagonal data crystals. Siobhan stared at the round object. He looked at her questioningly, "What? Don't you people carry hardcopy anymore? Let's get out of here." The Pakkrat then re-attached the wall panel. The pair then backed out the way they came, leaving the Finn's apartment gloom to itself. The couple took a different path from Earth Station's slum levels. Emerging into the bazaar from different sides of the market, the Terran made for the exit. He was followed shortly by Siobhan who was given plenty of opening by the Terrans about her. It was just another business day in the station's markets when the two found their respective ships in the docking bay. Away from Earth Station, Siobhan signaled to the Pakkrat, "Do you have the equipment to open that disc?" The Pakkrat smiled, "When's the last time you got out an album of CCR?" "What?" asked the Progen woman. "Sorry, that was before both our times." Siobhan wrinkled her nose and said, "You have such strange sayings." She accentuated the observation with a fist on her hip. Pakkrat explained. "I listen to music on long hauls when alone and it helps with the monotony. I keep a laserdisc player on hand since I haven't the slightest idea how to hook up those crystal-readers used these days." He slipped the data disc into the player and fed it to a monitor on his ship's bridge and cockpit. Then he played the data. The balding and wrinkled old man appeared. He had thick glasses and coughed a few times before he spoke to the viewer. Pakkrat recognized him as the Finn, but Powers he did not age well! He must have been ten or twenty years older. He also looked ill as his features looked poor. Then he spoke as Siobhan listened in on the communications link. "Pakk, *cough*, I don't know where you are or what happened to you, lad but it's been long enough and I've ground the mystery down to that disc I gave you. You must be dead or lost in space somewhere. I don't know if you followed that nav-disc or not but it's been too long you haven't contacted me that I have to assume you dead or adrift to the deep dark." The old man the Pakkrat knew now especially by his raspy voice as the Finn began a wracking cough. Then he continued. "This disc is my final clearing of the books, lad. If you are still out there somewhere, know that I had nothing do with what that nav-disc had on it. I was only told to give it to you." "Pakk, I thought about the who, what and why of that haul you flew out of here. I think you were carrying more than what your cargo registry stated. Yes, the stuff was hot and we all dared not crack it open. It was weapons-grade Uranium, fer Powers sake. Pakk, *cough, cough*, I don't have much time, so let this apology clear my conscience and send you to wherever you went with my last and best wishes. It was nothing personal, business and all. Powers, I hope you come back, lad. Warp speed, lad." Then the recording faded and ended with the Finn's signature rune. The Pakkrat remembered it on every document the fixer signed. Ejecting the nav-disc, the Terran Tradesman stored it inside a music disc case and hid it among his music disc collection under his pilot chair. "Fare well, old timer. Finn." Siobhan asked him, "He sounded like a comrade, Terran. Was he your friend?" The Pakkrat considered his memories of the Finn. "We were more business partners in near-crime," he said, "but we always seemed to stay on the lawful side of that line." The trader swung the formation to port and then warped from Earth Station. "Where are we headed next?" asked Siobhan. "We need to find my old ship." answered the Pakkrat. "We need to have a look at her." "Where is your old ship?" "The rescue drones that hauled me in may still have their memories stored, so it's off to the Infinity Campus where I was pulled from the old *Labyrinth Runner*. Ahead lay the facility Infinity Campus. It was a multi-purpose facility and headquarters for the company here in Earth sector. Swarms of tasked drones moved about the orbital station. It had no proper docking hangar, but InfinitiCorp employees oversaw the operations the drones undertook. Using his corporate authorizations, the Pakkrat gained access to the drone teams that salvaged his ship. Reading their logs, he swore aloud. "Their logs of the salvage have been erased." Siobhan asked, "Was it a maintenance data dump? I mean, were they out of memory space or something?" Pakkrat looked into that and came up with, "No, that specific mission was erased. The drones know nothing about it anymore. And it was an unmanned mission, so nobody here was on site when I was hauled from that asteroid." Siobhan played with her double-helix in her gauntleted fingers. It was something he saw her do when she was thinking. Then she brightened with an idea. "Pakkrat," she offered, "maybe the drones can remember where your ship hulk was stored, like in a hulk field or the like." The trader nodded to her then stroked his beard as he went through date-stamped logs of junked ship hulls. Though there were no names attached to the hulks, the Terran found that all the hulks of that month on the year he was rescued went to the same location. "Smart girl," he said, looking at her on the monitor. "Then we just have to find the ship and the drones are not a hurdle," she said. "Says all the hulks of that month went to Asteroid ED5013," the Pakkrat read aloud the name. "That's right here on the fringes of Earth Sector. My ship has been here the entire time, right under my nose!" Siobhan noted, "I don't know where that location is, Pakkrat." "I do. Let's go." Minutes later after warping to the sector's outer reaches, the pair came upon a yellow-orange crystalline asteroid. Across its darker landscape were littered tens of hulks. Thus began focused scans for the right hull shape, size, configuration and class that matched the *Labyrinth Runner*, the old hauler. *While the pair searched, their sensors failed to register the slow, inexorable fly-by of a capital ship in black, sleek shape. Bulbous turrets were stowed as tiny bumps on the vessel's outer hull. The **Andromeda** slipped by them, quietly watching them.* When the old and derelict hauler was re-discovered, the Terran man and the Progen woman exited their ships in EVA spacesuits to the surface of the asteroid. As they approached, Siobhan pointed her torch at the ship's port-side cargo section. "I'll be a honey-dipped rat on an ant hill," swore the Pakkrat. "They did enter my ship. Look at the hole they cut into the cargo bay. The drones would not have been able to enter through such a small hole. See?" "Yes," said Siobhan. She looked at her armor's sensors. "Though the cargo uranium is now mostly depleted uranium slag, we should be safe enough to dig around for this secret shipment, *Pakk*." She said his nickname like the Finn's recording. "Let's hope it's here," he answered smiling with half-hope. The two entered the cargo bay through the hole. After about ten minutes of searching through sections of depleted uranium, nothing was found. "Do you think it was found, whatever the Finn was suggesting?" asked the Warrior. "If it was found, why rescue me at all and have to deal with my back-pay?" answered the Pakkrat with a question. "Whatever it was, they didn't find it and the drones' memories were erased to conceal such a detail or clues. "You say you were stranded in an asteroid from a comet's hail storm that incapacitated your ship," reminded Siobhan. "What if the drones could not have salvaged everything and only took the majority of what they could carry?" The trader snapped his fingers when they were safely back in their vessels. "That's it!" he exclaimed. "The drone's instructions were too simple and they rescued my ship as a first measure. I'm still alive because they didn't find whatever was hidden in that radioactive cargo. The navigation computer was destroyed by the through penetrations so it was useless to them, whoever they were." "Then," said Siobhan, "there is no way to backtrack to the asteroid where you sought shelter, is there?" Pakkrat nodded his head, but then raised his index to his temple saying, "there is one last rutter to that site left. In here." "What is a 'rutter'?" Siobhan asked. "Seriously? You folk in this Crystal Age don't keep maps on hardcopy?" The Pakkrat went on to explain that a 'rutter' was a record of charts, maps, travel routes and pathways that ancient Earth sailing ships kept as secret documents to keep ahead of the competition. "So, earthling," asked the Progen, "where is your rutter, hmmm?" "I remember where I was when I entered the cryostasis capsule." "Then lead the way," suggested the Progen. The couple warped from Earth sector with Siobhan leading while the Pakkrat correlated sector maps with his memory of the discarded route the Finn's nav-disc had suggested he take over 161 years ago. *"Mistress, they just left," reported Joga, the ever-present Progen secretary.* *"I know where they are going as I was privy to the drones' records before they were erased," declared the Lady DeWynter. "We only need follow them to Ceres/Thule. But I have doubts they will be able to open that long-quiet gate."* Ceres/Thule, to the Crystal Age was the sector that now contained the discarded route featured in the nav-disc given to the Pakkrat. Sectors from Earth, they halted before the cold, inanimate rings that barred the way to the sector beyond. Since it was a dead-end sector with no adjoining star gate other than to Venus sector, it too was long ago discarded as a waste of InfinitiGate resources. Like Pakkrat's comet-laden route a century and a half before, Ceres/Thule was largely uninhabited save by space fauna and old nav-bouys that were, in theory, still present. Pakkrat barely remembered the route through 161 years of cryostasis, two years of career and now a small stint of Iteration Haze, (as Siobhan called it). Back in his day, the Ancient stargates had yet to be discovered. Everyone plied Sol system in long stints of warp speeds, which itself was relatively new as well. Nobody had wormhole gates to sling them across the universe. The trader smiled. He was beginning to feel very old as the pair approached the unused InfinitiGate that they hoped opened to Ceres/Thule. "This was not here back in my day," noted the trader from Earth. "To my knowledge it has not been opened in a long time," said Siobhan. "I've been through Venus sector, docked at Venera Highport and stared at its inactive rings a few times. It is like some mystery is beyond them that others may ignore." "I know what is behind that gate," said the Pakkrat. "It's getting there through them." "What do you know about Ceres/Thule then?" asked Siobhan. "Well Ceres is a huge asteroid," described the Pakkrat. "It was discovered long before true space travel in Sol. I remember it in the distance when I went comet-surfing." "What is comet-surfing?" asked the Warrior woman. "Never mind," said the smiling trader. Continuing, he said, "But Thule, I only know from topic searches in archives. It is supposedly some sort of legendary, unattainable land of long days and long nights above the Scythian parallel on Earth. A bunch of old, dead explorers tried to find it north of the British Isles. Eventually it was decided that it was an island off the coast of Norway in Europe. But now, here in this Crystal Age, Thule must be some unattainable body in space, right?" The formation of the Warrior and Tradesman craft was before the inert gate. Siobhan tried a few transmissions to the rings in hopes that one of them might open it. None worked. "How do we get it opened," she asked. "There has to be a condition or combination, I am guessing," answered the Terran. *Joga, watching from the bridge of the invisible **Andromeda** some distance away from the pair at the Ceres/Thule stargate, turned to the lounging Lady DeWynter, "Mistress, I feel something."* *"You've had feelings before, Joga," answered the Lady. "Is it the presence again?"* *"Yes, mistress," concluded the psi-gifted Progen woman, "and I am powerless against it."* * * * "I dunno, Siobhan," called the Pakkrat. "Maybe it is some gate that only Jenquai or the gifted can open and I am neither. I doubt I could think or will it to open any more than I could balance my credit account." Siobhan smiled at the observation mixed with another of the Pakkrat's strange figures of speech. To add to the humor, Siobhan suggested, "Have you tried, Terran?" It was funny to watch the Terran take on a mimic grimace of fierce concentration. It made Siobhan smile and hold back an amused chuckle. When he tried a new grimace, his face a cross between intense pain and bared teeth scowl, the Sabura could not hold back her giggling at his demeanor. Then, except for the two vessels' running lights, everything went dark and shadowy. Both pilots checked their scanners for the cause of the sudden night. Venus was eclipsing the sun, its shadow creeping over their location. But even at that speed both were enveloped immediately. There, in the shadow of Venus a motion came from the Ceres/Thule star gate. It was moving! Spinning and twirling its hexagonal rings, the star gate expanded and spread outward. There was an aged scraping and high-pitched whine as the old rings squealed into position which reverberated through the two nearby ships. The Pakkrat covered his ears in reflex as Siobhan merely grit her teeth against the noise. Then the darkness was lit with blue brilliance as the decrepit portal lit its artificial wormhole with flickering plasma at its edges. "An unattainable land of long days and long nights...," said the Pakkrat when it was safe to uncover his ears and at the sight of the opened gate. "It must be keyed to only open in shadow and only when requested," said Siobhan. "Someone or something is making this adventure hard to reach the end of the maze," mused the Pakkrat aloud. "This cannot be coincidence," said Siobhan who was on alert. "Do you read anything on your scanners?" "Nothing." After a few moments, the Terran nodded to the Progen who led them through the Ceres/Thule star gate.
  23. The Thule Project - Ch. III by Pakkrat III. Because the many Reporters, Anchors and their crews were busy with incoming masercom beam feeds from all over known space or fiddling with their electronics, Siobhan had little trouble making her way past the main lobby and camera sets. The only other Progen that she could see was occupied conversing with station hangar personnel. Thus the Sabura made her way past all into the lounge. The man she was searching for was found at the bar, his back to her entry. The clone brothers had the same hair and style, so it was easy to pick out the Dr. Pakkratius, a Magister Magna of the Sabine Order. The different Net-7 News logos on his armor made little difference. Alpha-caste Progen were not hard to spot in this mostly-Terran station here in Saturn sector. The Doctor was sipping vodka gingerly as she approached. Siobhan looked about. All the patrons were busy watching the feeds on the monitors, making communications connections on the net terminal or taking jobs on the opposing jobs terminal. Quietly slipping out the Athanor heavy pistol, she approached the imbibing Magister Magna. Siobhan had seen the gleaming white Tradesman-class vessel she had been trailing now sitting in the hangar of NET-7 SOL. Likewise, the Sabura Warrior confirmed the presence of the sailed and N7-labelled Sentinel-class craft. Her target was here and most likely resting off any potential Iteration Haze. This allowed her time to confront the Doctor who had by now used the stolen and now-defunct Biostruct. Closer she came to the Doctor of the Call Forward. She meant to shove the heavy barrel into his kidney and order the Pakkratius to cough up the patient. But before she could level the pistol in her approach the Sentinel spoke without turning around. "Put my brother's gun away, Warrior," said the Pakkratius. "I knew someone would come and have monitored and recorded your arrival since docking." Siobhan, though fast, had not thought that this clone brother of her friend would be so crafty. That he knew she had kept Imperator Pakkrateus' Athanor heavy pistol said that he was familiar with her at least superficially. She holstered the weapon and joined the Sabine at the bar. He pushed a spare vodka to her. She did not lift it. "What gave me away?" she asked as if the two were familiar. "Your coming was betrayed a little under 150 years ago, Warrior." "I don't understand." "You will, but you're going to pay for such understanding by helping the Terran." Siobhan was taken aback, but in this public venue she could not protest. Instead she drew closer to the Doctor who still sipped his vodka. "If you know why I am here and under whose authority, what makes you think you can order a Warrior around, Sentinel?" He turned and smiled. The Dr. Pakkratius had the same red irises as the Pakkrateus. "What I now know will get Vinda in a hot, water planet ocean of trouble. The things I have learned will get me, you and that Terran reclaimed in short order to keep this under wraps." Siobhan countered with, "Then you should comply with me and hand over the Terran thief. I don't know why Vinda wants him other than some stolen Biostruct, but what she says goes and you are her subordinate, Doctor." Pakkratius downed the last of his drink and turned on her. "Not anymore or do you not watch the news? Vinda struck me from service two weeks ago and has let me live for reasons I am beginning to suspect. Else I'd be reclaimed by now. I work for Net-7 News now as an Anchor for the NET-7 SOL Faction. Vinda has no authority over me any longer. In fact, you Siobhan, you are in my territory." "What?" asked Sibohan. It was rare to have a Sentinel give a Warrior such aggression. She was surprised at the Pakkratius' confidence before her. "I am one of two Lead Anchors here at Net-7 News. I can turn the cameras on you, blow your cover, expose your mission, and who you are working for in under a minute to the entirety of the galaxy over the news. I can order the hangar to put a hold on your vessel, Siobhan. So. You're going to work for me for a little while while remaining on-mission for Vinda, acknowledge?" It was so sublime as Siobhan considered how she had allowed herself to become compromised. He had her and through her, he had Vinda and the entire Sabine Order. "You'd betray your Order over this?" "I can remain a Net-7 Reporter and Anchor for a long time and live many lifetimes worth of adventures. Vinda can try her hand with my clone brother if she dares." "Your brother is a Coll-" the Sabura was interrupted by the Anchor-rat. "My clone brother is obviously a planted mole-agent for Vinda, deposited into the Collegia to keep tabs on her rival Theodoric Cassel. Now I shouldn't have told you that and the knowledge could get everyone reclaimed and stored for a very long time, so listen up. You are going to stay on-mission for Vinda, but you will not harm that Terran and you will lend him aid whenever he needs. Now acknowledge or shall we saunter into the studio right now? The studio is on the way to the hangar so you would be forced right where the newscams can catch you. What's it going to be?" She was trapped. Siobhan thought that she might have to kill the Pakkratius to save herself, but the stare of a particular young, Jenquai girl with a fanged grin at her let the Sabura know that Pakkratius was not alone here in the lounge. The Doctor may have had his back to the door, but he was not unprotected. The teenager had her hands on both of the twin combat knives at her side. She was obviously Shinwa or something like them. A warrior. Pakkratius Siobhan could take, but what of the girl and the Doctor working together? "Acknowledged," Siobhan said with careful pronunciation. "Where is he?" "Let me take you up to him. He should be in my mini-lab, resting." The Doctor led the Warrior up to the next floor to his domicile-office. Siobhan saw that the Jenquai girl with silvery-white hair followed gingerly behind. The Progen entered the mini-lab and found the Terran missing. "I thought you said he was here resting," noted Sibohan. "I know where he's going next," answered the Pakkratius. "Follow him to Arx Magister, Mars sector and try not to frighten him. This is his path." Siobhan nodded, but then asked, "You aren't coming along?" "No," explained the Sentinel. "That Terran might get me reclaimed, especially after the events of late. Best that I was never involved publicly. You go. He might need help if he suffers the Haze, something with which you are familiar." So, Imperator Pakkrateus must have shared something of Siobhan's story with his clone brother, the Magister Magna Pakkratius. He did have her cornered in so many ways, she concluded. The Anchor-rat leaned over and lifted a scribbled note on a lounge napkin from the lab's counter. It read: Thanks, Doctor. I'll owe you an interview or something later. -P "You'd better hurry," suggested the Pakkratius. "I hear Terrans are known for their velocity and Arx Magister is the last place for a Terran inquiring about Republic business." So, Siobhan left the office on her way to the hangar to chase once more after the Terran man. * * * He had been in this sector of Progen space before on various business tasks, but the Pakkrat was never lost on the aggressive attitude of Progen space station architecture. Arx Magister, two or more sectors from the orthorombic shape of NET-7 SOL, was a huge, draconic orbital war platform to the Terran's eyes. With the gargantuan twin Romulus and Remus cannons nearby, the might of the Progen Republic was on display. It was with great politesse that the Pakkrat signalled his desire to dock at the massive fortress in orbit over the Red Planet. Once the trader had docked and made his way into the great lobby of the facility, he immediately realized he had no clue as to how to ask for access to the Call Forward archives of the Sabine Order. It was some time later after wandering the lobby, the bazaar and then finally in the social pavilion and bar that the Pakkrat was about to give up and leave. Turning to the exit, he was immediately blocked by a Progen female in a strange set of armor. She was no tall amazon like most Progen. The female before the trader had dirty blonde-to-light brown hair in two different cuts. The majority of her locks ended just below the ears in a sharp line around her head, while a ponytail tassel streamed up and back behind her head to descend in a double helix hold. It screamed Progen pride to the InfinitiCorp employee. The woman wore a set of light, plated armor over a black jumper that was dotted with tiny, red, metal hexagons sewn into the fabric. The jumper hugged every womanly curve that was not concealed by the protective armor. A heavy pistol rode a holster at her waist belt and hung down, strapped to her thigh. The Pakkrat could have mistaken her for some sort of scout if it were not for all the battle technology dispersed throughout the entire uniform and armor. The female was muscled but wiry and the suit hid the lithe form at first notice. It took a second and closer inspection to see that this woman was not like the other Progen sporting cybernetics enhancements. Aside from a communications choker, the trader could appreciate her light brown skin and her dragon green eyes. Naturally, the woman sized up the much taller Pakkrat with faster assessment and tactical dismissal. But then she spoke directly to the trader. "Do you like our station, Terran?" the woman asked. "Or are you lost?" The Pakkrat, not being armed with more than his PDA device gave a polite bow to the Progen woman. "It's quite efficient, yet I can't seem to get the time of day from anyone here." "Time of day? A Terran figure of speech," noted the woman. "The time is right there on any wall monitor." "Well, I can't seem to obtain some very private information that I need," explained the Pakkrat. "I'm InfinitiCorp Merchant Prince Pakkrat by the way." The Progen nodded formally and responded, "I am designated Praefect Siobhan. Can I be of assistance instead?" She added the first smile that the Pakkrat had received from a Progen in a long time. "I may be able to direct you properly." "To tell the truth, Praefect Siobhan, I am looking into who was the first Sabine to perform your Call Whatever-thingy on me. See, it must have happened quite a long time ago and I was unaware that it was happening." Siobhan seemed to consider the Terran's words. With half-doubt on her expression, she said, "Non-Progen were only recently allowed the interpolation services of the Sabine Order Call Forward. Just how long ago were you Called?" "Well you may not believe this but I estimate that it happened between five and 150 years ago," declared the Pakkrat. "You're that old?" asked Siobhan with impressed stress to her question. "That is some impressive longevity in your genome, Terran." The trader then told the story of his need to enter cryostasis in an emergency situation long ago and was only recently revived almost two years ago. He set his crystal employee badge on the table where the two had sit for beverages. Cautiously, the Pakkrat showed Siobhan his arm and told of how it ached on occasion. To avoid confusion with the mark left by the interpolation earlier that morning, the Pakkrat explained his recent service from Dr. Pakkratius at NET-7 SOL. The Praefect seemed to take in the story. She seemed to accept the tale when she saw the two listed ages on the employee badge. "So, you would be about forty years of age had you not endured extended cryostasis before your rescue," concluded Siobhan. "And I was having some birthday, um- modifications- with the Call done when the Doctor noticed that I had been Called some time ago. I had never remembered having - or answering- this Call Forward done." The Pakkrat felt he was getting somewhere with Siobhan as she was giving him far more attention to his details than most Progen. "That you had been Called against your will is quite against Sabine ethics," Siobhan said, but then shed light further with, "but at the time it was supposedly done, no non-Progen were blessed with the Call. This is highly irregular and I am no Sabine Sentinel to know this." With Siobhan agreeing to help the trader, the two finished a short meal and she took him to a net terminal in the pavilion. Cycling through menus of data took time, but soon the Praefect had drawn up the Progen Republic Call Forward Archives. It listed every Sabine Order use of the Call Forward that had ever been recorded. But then the menu halted the search. "It says that this is classified information," said Siobhan. "Sabine Order only." "Is there any Sabine here in the station," asked the Pakkrat as he looked about. Siobhan too looked about the pavilion. When she was seemingly confident that there were none about, she slid her green IdentData Cube into the terminal interface. Then she tried to enter the Archive. Much to the surprise of the Pakkrat who had the self-control to keep quiet, he watched as Siobhan scrolled through the history of the Call Forward. The woman had some form of hidden access that she had not let out. Who was she? Through bloodlines, gene-maps, re-iterations, and wars upon wars of Progen history Siobhan continued to scroll backward in time from the present. She seemed proficient in speed reading or perhaps she was cybernetically enhanced to the trader's perception. She stopped at a date that was roughly 161 years into the past. "This is the year you entered cryostasis, correct?" she asked. "Yes, but I don't think that I was Called that quickly after entering the capsule," answered the Pakkrat. Siobhan then scrolled forward in time, past various conflicts, slowing until she came upon a Call date with no name. "The timestamp for this Call is here but there is no listed name or it has been deleted." Pakkrat looked over Siobhan's shoulder into the holographic image list. "Does it say who performed the Call perhaps?" Siobhan nodded and pointed a gauntleted index finger into the display. "It lists a Sabine Order Reclaimer designated Talus-M Ravindran. Hmm. Says he was well rewarded with the gene-map's reclamation too. But other than that, nothing." "So, this Talus-guy, he could have been the Reclaimer to Call me in my sleep?" asked the trader. "If so, then he should not have, due to ethics and policies of the day," reminded Siobhan. She lowered her voice at the nearby entry of some Centuriata. "We need to have a look at the personnel records of this Talus-M Ravindran." Backing out of the high-security of the Sabine Order Archive, Siobhan then ran a search for the Reclaimer, Talus-M. She let out a sigh of defeat. "See here his name in red?" asked Siobhan pointing again. "It says he fell in battle during the Gate War." Pakkrat rubbed his beard in thought. "Don't you Progen gather the dead? Did this Talus-M, you know, Answer the Call Forward?" "Good idea. Maybe he did." "What is it like?" "What is what like?" The Pakkrat blushed as he continued, "What is is like to die and then Answer the Call Forward to a new life." Siobhan, to the trader, seemed to look distant for a moment. She stood up and faced the tall Terran. "As a Progen, you would have seen your death and met it headlong with confidence, recalling it with pride to fall in battle or other service." She paused again. "My last iteration, I did not get that opportunity, but that is another story. But when you, as a Progen, Answer the Call, you wake up as if from a long sleep. You're tired, hungry and your muscles are on fire from the electrical jolt to start your new heart and body. You might itch a lot. To keep you from accidentally biting your tongue off, you have a bite guard in your mouth at first. When you gather your wits and realize you have Answered the Call, the medics and Doctor let you up and help you dress in your new life. You have all your memories, but you have to go through new training to get used to your new form." Siobhan again looked sad and her gaze was glossy. "Did I ask the wrong question to ask?" inquired the Pakkrat softly. "Again it was another life and another story, but at one point I was an Alpha-caste Warrior, but now I have Answered the Call to a Beta-caste iteration." Pakkrat was confused. This caste stuff, sounded classist the way she said them. "I'm sorry," he apologized not knowing why. It just seemed appropriate to Befriend the woman with such. Siobhan recovered with a half-smile and a cute tilt of her head. "In the end, it is nothing. Though I cannot be given new life as an Alpha-caste Warrior, I now have something far more valuable in trade. But enough about me. Let's find if this Talus-M Answered the Call." The Progen woman returned to cycling through menus and then ran a name search in Progen Republic / Sabine Order / Talus-M. A hum alert sound confirmed a match. Siobhan pointed at the match. "He did Answer the Call and came back to serve the Republic as a Sabine Order Specialist. It was some time later but his genome had been flagged as Extolled. It means that he was guaranteed as valuable to the Progen, to be Called as needed instead of stored indefinitely." "It says his name is Talus-N Ravindran," noted the Pakkrat. "Is that how it works?" "It is a nomenclature option some Progen choose," explained the Praefect, "especially if they want some form of separation from their old life. It happens when a previous iteration may have been painful or traumatic." "Maybe I can ask him why he found me, did that Call-thing to me and did not rescue me," suggested the Pakrkat. He privately wanted to know why he had been discovered and not rescued. Had he been found in that asteroid and looted for his genes? This was turning out a bit much for the trader with more questions following each discovery. "Perhaps," answered Siobhan. "Is this Talus-N in service now?" he asked. Siobhan punched the file for Talus-N Ravindran. "Says he, like many Specialists, was sent by the Sabine Order to Varen's Girdle, Aragoth to search the sector, perhaps for another piece, another Shard of the Codex. He may still be out there. We will have to search though. That he has not yet returned from the assignment may mean that he's living either at Aragoth Station or at InfinitiCorp's Chernovog Station and still searching." Pakkrat became enthusiastic. He wanted answers from a man who was most likely standing over the sleeping trader stranded in an asteroid so long ago. Why was he not rescued? Why was his genes mapped? What purpose would such have served? Couldn't the Reclaimer, Talus-M, have at least called InfinitiCorp and post his coordinates of the hauler? The Terran trader pocketed this new information as he again reminded himself to look in on the Finn who has given the Pakkrat a certain nav-disc to a discarded route. More questions lie that way and he did not dwell long before he stood up from the terminal at Arx Magister. "Siobhan," the man from North America said in a lowered, warning voice, "I think I was not meant to know this - that this was hidden for a reason beyond just some ethics and policies. My name as a patient was missing or deleted, I saw." "I think you are correct, Terran," she agreed and then added, "I also think I need to know some answers as to the misuse of the Call Forward. Such seems to be happening more often of late." That last part brought another distant gaze to the dragon green eyes of the Progen woman. "We could haul some gear or other stuff out to Aragoth Station as a cover story," suggested the trader. "Y'know... to have a reason to be out that far to begin with and make a little funds growth." He smiled in inviting the Progen woman. "You didn't have to ask. You had me at Call Forward." The Pakkrat then offered his arm, a gesture the Warrior woman did not seem to understand. Reaching over, the trader put her arm through his offered and led her from the pavilion back towards the bazaar. "It's a date then." "What is a date?" she asked curiously. Soon, with two cargo holds full of construction equipment, the Tradesman and the Warrior were underway to the Aragoth solar system. * * * After many sectors of travel later, Siobhan found herself enjoying the wing position next to the Terran Tradesman vessel. The Pakkrat's engines and devices were chosen for maximum commuting speeds. Siobhan had likewise done the best with her repertoire of systems and found that even then the average of their two ships in formation was much faster at warp than her usual speed. It felt lightning fast to instantly line up on a distant gate across the sector and freewarp, that is to fly directly to the target rather than travel nav-bouys. Watching celestial bodies such as gas supergiants, ringed planets and asteroid fields slip by as they travelled, gave her a slight rush. She occasionally looked over at the Pakkrat on the formation monitor. He was fully concentrated on flying freewarp to the next stargate. She noted how he seemed to care little about his reactor drain at the speeds he was attaining. Terran systems and ships seemed ahead of the curve in the realm of travel. The trader himself was constantly looking to the horizon to the next warp target. Then Siobhan noted the name of the Pakkrat's white-colored ship. It was named in red letters, *Labyrinth Runner* and had a circular labyrinth for wing decals. The name looked familiar to her but it was the suggestion of the graphic that said this Terran was likened to a rat in a maze, running around for bits of cheese. *Labyrinth Runner* seemed similar to the Imperator Pakkrateus' Privateer-class ship named *Maze Runner*. Was there a connection, she asked herself. Sure there must be some coincidence that their root names were the same. Siobhan noted the detail and saved it for later to confirm. Was there more to this? The two pilots stopped overnight in the Valkyrie Twins sector station, Aragoth Station. The spectacular reflections off the facility's radiation plate shielding spewed a spectrum of wavelengths, visible and invisible around the otherwise delicate superstructure. Siobhan and the trader off-loaded the trade goods to a modest profit to the thankful technicians via the station's customs kiosk. Then the Pakkrat, using the funds he had garnered, treated a surprised Siobhan to a meal of steak, hydroponics greens and potatoes at a restaurant in the bazaar over looking the station's arboretum below. As they ate and sipped Yum-O-Beer, courtesy of a travelling Tada-O merchant out of Muspelheim, Pakkrat spoke to her alone. "This, Siobhan, is a date," he said leaning forward over the table to her. The Sabura Warrior was indeed surprised. This date seemed like some form of social one-on-one over the enjoyment of a meal that was catered to be pleasurable to eat. The social aspect was that the exchange was private and singular. "Is this how all dates work?" she asked. "Back where and when I come from, it can vary depending on what each finds fun, right?" answered the Pakkrat. "It just depends." Siobhan was interested to learn more. "I want to go on more of these dates." "We'll see," said the Terran before feeding himself another bite of steak. Though she had this 'fun' with other kinds of activities, such as space combat and stopping the villainy of madmen, Siobhan found she very much liked this kind of peaceful 'fun'. After the meal, the Pakkrat saw to it that he escorted her to her rented room in Aragoth Station for the night. She asked why he felt it necessary to see her to her room. He told her it was the polite thing that Terrans do for their date partners. This strange custom, done for a Progen Warrior, in a secure research space station, seemed out of place. Yet, it made her feel warm inside in a way she could not identify. "How do Terran date partners thank the other person for a good date?" asked Siobhan. The Pakkrat seemed to think while he stroked his sharp-clipped beard. Then he shrugged and offered, "How about a kiss goodnight since you Progen don't seem to have deeper relations?" "Oooh, now that I have done before!" she said enthusiastically and bear-hugged the Trader and kissed him. It seemed to catch the Terran by surprise but he yielded to her strong arms around him. She kissed him with every ounce of her passion she could muster, having done so with the Privateer the first time she had been kissed. Once separated, she sauntered into her room, leaving the Pakkrat outside in the hallway. She had done that, leaving the Pakkrateus likewise on the tarmac that day in the heat the last time she saw the Collegiate. She guessed that was how a kiss was performed, right? The door automatically closed on the stunned Trader. * * * The next morning, Siobhan was up early, doing stretches, exercises and weight lifting and combat manipulations of weights. She found the Pakkrat in the lounge having coffee. He looked like he had partaken too many Yum-O-Rum drinks to Siobhan's eyes. Then his appearance and demeanor looked familiar. She let him off easy with, "It is called Iteration Haze. It is a side effect from not resting properly from a recent Call Forward. For us Warriors it also happens when the process is rushed or performed haphazardly after Answering the Call Forward." "Oh, I thought the dreams were bad, is all," said the trader who again nursed his coffee. After a breakfast in the lounge, the two were launching from the hangar in their ships, the *Labyrinth Runner* and the *Kitten*. Since the name Talus-N Ravindran was not in the station registry, the two made for Chernovog Station on the way to Varen's Girdle. Once into the next sector, Aragoth Prime, the pair of travellers pulled up to the orbital and corporate space station and queried the control tower staff. Was the Sabine Order Specialist Talus-N Ravindran registered at the station? The tower controllers checked the docking registry there and responded that, yes, the Sentinel was listed as a tenant, but for some time now the Sabine was working long hours in Varen's Girdle and only arrived to sleep. He then would gather sustenance for another trip to the Girdle and depart once more. Thanking the station's tower and administration, the Pakkrat turned the formation towards the distant sector gate to the frontier. Again, to save time, the trader freewarped to the gate to avoid any traffic. The enormity of the Aragoth system's asteroid belt, named Varen's Girdle, was almost overwhelming. The belt of asteroids was almost limitless. Only a fraction of its entirety had been fully explored by explorers of the Jenquai, Progen and Terran races. To this day, the fields were still being analyzed for potential discoveries and archaeological finds. There was no outpost, facilities nor space station in Varen's Girdle. Each of the three races of humanity had mutually let the massive belt remain unclaimed and yet shared by all after they had, under treaty, agreed that Aragoth system was no one race's territory. It was a frontier and all treated it as such. It was here that the so-called Appian Codex had been discovered by Vinda's Sabine Order. It was also in Varen's Girdle that Andaren was laid to rest by his brother Aragoth. And still the wonders of the belt continued to yield more. The varied space fauna of the huge asteroid belt made for some interesting and often dangerous encounters. The bulbous Mabonae and Sagut creatures filled their bodies with the gasses they needed to grow. Crystalline biologicals also floated amongst the inanimate rocks of their home. A space sector of wonder and danger made up Varen's Girdle. Siobhan's *Kitten* led the way through the sector as she called out locally for the Sabine Order. As the only Warrior that was privy to why the Sabine Order was combing the Girdle, Siobhan led the Pakkrat into the deeper, more dangerous fields where the Sentinel Specialists had been sent to search for Ancient artifacts and clues to re-open the collapsed Appian Gate in Lagarto, Gallina. In addition to their search, the Sentinels were mining for rare minerals that Vinda felt may come in handy. So, the Sabura woman had been the one to transmit her search for Talus-N Ravindran. The process took hours as the pair searched field after field. The Progen and the Terran had to dodge their share of the local space creatures that inhabited Varen's Girdle. This was no safari and the Pakkrat was anxious to move on. As the search went on, Siobhan took the time to change her weaponry to the deadly DigiApogee Prototype projectile weapons she had collected since her new life as a Sabura. This was dangerous times for her as the First Sabura and here on the frontier sector. The weapons were massive compared to the messenger's beams she previously mounted on her ship's wings. Into her cargo hold went the puny beam weapons. The huge, belt-fed chain guns looked far more intimidating now. The pair was almost across half the sector when their call was acknowledged by a Sabine Sentinel trailing of the Jenquai-sanctified Andaren's Tomb. The male voice answered the hail from Siobhan. "I am Specialist Ravindran," greeted the Sabine Sentinel vessel. "I am Praefect Siobhan of the Centuriata, Specialist," said Siobhan, half-lying, "and we need to speak with you." The Sabine craft halted his mining beam and turned to meet the Warrior and the Terran ship next to her. "Specialist," asked Siobhan, "have you ever met this Terran beside me?" There was a pause as the Progen man on the comm monitor seemed to regard the Pakkrat in formation beside Siobhan. Then he answered her, "No, Praefect, I do not remember ever meeting this Terran man." "But you surely must have-," the Pakkrat tried to ask, but he was interrupted by Siobhan. "Sir," she said to Specialist, "there are records that this Terran's gene-map was sampled via the Call Forward long before the discipline was opened to non-Progen. Do you recall such?" The man looked back to Siobhan and answered, "No, Warrior. I do not recall such. I have no memory of ever engaging the Call Forward to any non-Progen. Now if you will excuse me-." The Pakkrat chimed in again with, "But is there any way you could have kept your own records?" Siobhan almost tried to stop the Trader, but the question was less intrusive. "Sir," the Sabura implored, "this is important." "I do not remember ever meeting this Terran, encountering this Terran, much less performing the Call Forward for any Terran." Siobhan though she was about to hit an information dead-end when the Specialist added. "But I do recall making a confessional to the Virtuals on Olympus Mons before I fell during the Gate War." "What are the Virtuals?" asked the Pakkrat more to Siobhan. "What is going on? Why doesn't he rememb-?" "Thank you for your time, Specialist. We will leave you now." Siobhan backed the formation out and the Warrior began to make for the nearest sector star gate. The Sentinel ship went back to his project of searching the field of debris and asteroids.
  24. The Thule Project - Ch. II by Pakkrat II. Calliope Gans looked the Pakkrat up and down from behind her sunglasses. "Interpolation services of the Call Forward, Terran?" "Yeah, I guess," answered the Pakkrat. He had heard of others Answering the Call Forward, but this was his first time to Arx Spartoi for such services. Gans stood a little straighter. In her arms was the very low-rating Biostruct device that Pakkrat wanted to purchase. She held it like a barrier of some sort between herself and the trader. "I am sorry, sir," said Gans, "but I am not authorized at this time to sell Biostructs." She stepped back a half-step into the deeper shadows. "What do you mean, ma'am?" asked the Pakkrat. "I meant exactly what I said, Terran." The man from Terra looked about. This woman was the only outlet for the devices that he could see. He tried a brighter smile this time. "Is this, um...negotiable, ma'am?" he pleaded with a question. "How to you mean?" asked Gans who also looked about, possibly for someone in particular. "Well, I-...is there anything I can do to earn one of them? Even that one you are holding?" Calliope looked about again through the massive room and saw that not many people were present. Then she leaned in and spoke quickly and quietly. "Terran, a few months back on Endriago Planet, I, a Specialist, saw a Progen man - how do you say it? *kiss?* - a Progen woman on the landing platform tarmac of Porvenir Mons. It- it is not something we Progen do. It is vulgar and looked down upon. But I was wondering....since you are the Pakkrat, could you?" "Kiss you?" asked the Pakkrat quietly. "Like they did, yes," answered Gans sheepishly and quietly. Pakkrat joined the Progen woman in the darkness of the corner. Whispering to her he said, "Well, I was not there on the event you describe, but I think I can do better." "I think I'd-" she was cut off by the Pakkrat who reached down and with his hands, gathered her tanned face. With his best Befriending skills at laying one on a girl, the first he'd done in over 161 years, the Pakkrat kissed Calliope Gans with a long, enduring and passionate kiss. It was gentle, gentlemanly, yet powerful enough to overwhelm the female. He felt her almost go slack, so he gathered her in his arms with more support. The embrace thew Calliope into returning the kiss after a few seconds and the two continued the joining in the dark corner. Then she dropped the Biostruct device's container, a flimsy box of thin plastic and metal. The corner of the box shattered at striking the hexagon-grate floor, pieces of it falling through to the spaces below the lounge. The fall made enough noise that it prematurely ended the kiss, but slowly instead of abrupt. "You dropped your Biostruct device, Specialist Gans," noted the Pakkrat verbally to her. Calliope breathed in and tried to recover from the embrace and the localized commotion on the floor. She looked up to the taller Terran. "It is now defective. It will never sell. It will have to be disposed of, Pakkrat." "If you say so, ma'am," admitted the trader. "Pity I can't purchase it either - at a discount of course for its damaged state. You aren't authorized to sell it to me after all." Calliope reached up and touched her lips, seemingly still savoring the experience she had just had. At last she requested, "Would you dispose of it for me, sir? I can't leave the others here. Duty." "I would serve happily, Specialist." With that, the Pakkrat bent down and lifted the Biostruct device box with a shattered corner. All else seemed to be in proper shape inside it. "You, um, you can see a Sentinel on the station once you purchase a Biostruct...once they become available I mean." Pakkrat half-turned and leaned in again, "Thanks for your advice, Calliope." He then left her there to recover by leaning back against the station's bulkhead in the lounge. On his way out of the lounge, the Terran Trader passed an advertisement monitor. Being viewed at this second was an advertisement for the Sabine Order Call Forward interpolation service. *Let the Doctor help you Answer the Call here in Saturn's NET-7 SOL station. Call Forward. Meet the new you.* Hmmm, thought the Pakkrat. Watch the tele and Answer the Call at the same time. Nice idea. With this notion, the Terran turned right in the main lobby of Arx Spartoi and made for the hangar instead of asking for the nearest local Doctor. Making his way out of the station, the Pakrkat missed the call Reclaimer Ort made to Vinda, telling her that the Terran had acquired a Biostruct and had dodged the local Sentinels at the station by leaving. "What?!" exclaimed Vinda over the line. Vinda called Gans a minute later. "I told you not to sell any Biostruct devices, Calliope," she reminded the Specialist. "And I did not sell a single Biostruct device today, Magna Vinda," answered Calliope resolutely. "He must have went rubbish diving for one before it was incinerated, or some other Terran thievery." "Jericho, lend me strength!" was Vinda's reply before the line went dead. Vinda's next call across Endriago sector featured orders to shut down the Sector Gate to Lagarto, in hopes of keeping the departing Terran from escaping the sector. Then she could have her Sentinels hunt down and reclaim him within Sabine Order jurisdiction. "Is he there yet?" the leader of the Sentinels inquired insistently. The nearby observatory responded, "No, Magna Vinda. Our scopes show that he took a different tack. Towards Altair III. He means to leave Progen space via Moto in 61 Cygni B. Flabbergasted, Vinda swore, "Vita Theodora, deliver me!" Though she could order the Lagarto Gate into dormancy, the Sabine leader had no jurisdiction over the system gate to Altair. And given the recent chaos in Altair III sector where an illegal checkpoint had been set up by one of her errant Sentinels to stop a Jenquai, Vinda had to keep hands-off that stargate. But she knew that should this Terran with the Pakkrat Master Genome receive the Call, the gene-map would be scanned. It was sure to leak out. Vinda needed help. In a bad way. Knowing she could not send another herd of her Sentinels after yet another set of itinerant genes after the last scandal, she tapped a different source of help. The leader was reluctant to do even this, but she had no other alternatives. The Collegia would ask questions of any Sabine entering Altair III. So, Vinda made a call to a very remote location on the same Endriago Planet as the Porvenir Mons. Across the jagged lavascape of the fiery planet was one who could aid her. * * * It was a title she knew she could never be recognized or say in public, but First Sabura Siobhan was just finishing a training session with the first fully-successful, handful generation of Vinda's Sabura Warriors Project when the call came. Nobody but Magna Vinda called the Sabura Compound and even then only directly from Porvenir Mons. Siobhan went to the only communications panel on the campus to answer Vinda. "Magna Vinda. You aren't due for an insp-" greeted Siobhan and was summarily cut off by the Sabine woman. "First Sabura Siobhan, I need your help," said Vinda who to the Warrior looked a little stressed and worried. "There's a Terran out there that I need you to follow. He's a security risk of the highest order both to the Sabine Order and the greater Progen Republic. I need you to get close to him and make sure he does not endanger us. Take on your old guise of a Centuriata courier and tail him. He's on his way to Altair III and means to return to Terran space." Siobhan nodded, but then asked, "Vinda, why don't you use the Sentinels for this? Why engage us Sabura?" "Stars and garters, girl!" exclaimed Vinda as if Siobhan had launched a weapon of mass destruction at Vinda. "After recent events, I cannot send the Sentinels as some of them are proving to be over-eager idiots who want to procreate with me. Besides, the Collegia is watching Altair III like hunting hawks and it is doubtful the Progen Combine will allow a Sabine through Moto's demilitarized front line, given the Jenquai problem two weeks ago." "What should I do if he proves to become an active security leak?" asked Siobhan who now saw the more subtler reasons for Vinda's request of her. "Try to silence him first passively, but if he continues, I'll need him reclaimed." "Magna Vinda, we don't reclaim Terrans." "This one you do. Details on attached encrypted file. Vinda out." There was no file image on the Terran's face, no mug-shot of him. Yet several station cameras at Arx Spartoi had filmed him in dingy white fashions strutting through the corridors. He was tall. He had a short-haired brush of gray hair and a crisp line of gray beard. Neat but heeled. Somehow, to the First Sabura, this man looked vaguely familiar but his gait was a typical Terran confident strut. Siobhan continued examining the files as she fired up her modified Centuriata Warrior-class vessel, the *Kitten*, her baby. The two massive engine thrusters roared to life and the ship lifted with a grace not becoming of a Warrior-class vessel. It was colored a nonstandard and metallic bright and hot pink. "Kitten" was lettered on the wings. Six mounts held various energy and plasma beam weapons. The hull was short and stubby, compact like a tiny feline coiled to pounce. Siobhan knew the weapons were snubbed by other Warriors of the Sabura and the Centuriata. She had six projectile cannons hidden in her cargo hold with plenty of ammunition available, the painful impact rounds that she reserved for targets of her ire. On the outside, the *Kitten* was a cute courier vessel, slated for speed and security, the signs of a messenger one should not mess with. On the inside was the true Warrior as a second shield system sat dormant along with a combat engine to be feared. In a moment's notice, Siobhan could go from cute and cuddly to claws and teeth. And she loved it when others assumed they could defeat her vessel. The variant always seemed to lure in pirates like the egotistical Chavez or the draconic Red Dragon Tongs. The *Kitten* took the sky, equipped for as much speed as the Warrior class could muster. Because Siobhan's Warrior vessel could pass as a Centuriata, (even her genes were based off the Centuriata pattern), she would have no trouble passing through Altair III and into Moto, the 61 Cygni A-to-B corridor sector. The Progen Combine would assume she was just another battle messenger on her way through. Now Called Forward as a Beta-caste Sabura from the ranks of the immortal Warriors, Siobhan was much more and perhaps an improvement upon the Warrior elite. Though the Sabura woman was every bit loyal to the Republic, she did her part through the guidance of Vinda and her Sabine Sentinels. The Centuriata had become crystallized in their ways and means. As a 'mother' to the new Sabura, Siobhan had a prime opportunity to become one of the movers and shakers of the Republic. She would make the Sabura shine from inside the rank-and-file Centuriata. For the Sabura had something the Centuriata were soon to realize they did not: a conscience. Siobhan sped along, following the trail of the Terran Tradesman vessel, fed as she was by the intelligence of Endriago sector and soon Altair III. The Collegia were on good terms with their "big brother" warriors and would point her the fastest routes to the GETCo gate to Moto. Yet for her ability to track the Terran in the registered *Labyrinth Runner*, (now that sounded familiar too somehow), Siobhan found the Terran an adept navigator and a speed demon *par excellence*. She found her ship chasing the trader through the warzone known as Moto, then the mineral rich Aganju of 61 Cygni A. The Terran did not stop for souvenirs as he made way through Terran space onto the Tau Ceti system, the corporate property of InfinitiCorp, no doubt his employer. In New Edinburgh sector, Siobhan though she might lose her prey in the mega-corporation's private InfinitiGate to Earth, but the man did not take that route. Perhaps his destination was not Earth, nor Somerled Station, the InfinitiCorp headquarters of Tau Ceti. No, the quite visible and white vessel exited Tau Ceti across the galaxy to Beta Hydri solar system, the neutral territory of the Glenn Commission. And still the Terran did not stop there. If he was on a project for his employer, he would have stopped by now or here in Beta Hydri if he was some sort of information broker. But now Siobhan tracked his movements onward back to Sol, the home system of all humanity. Because the Terran was built for speed and the fact that he took no main nav-routes, Siobhan had trouble keeping up with his ship. When she gated into the next sector, the Sabura had to guess at the Terran's warp wake as to which was his next stargate exit and thus his route. And still he showed no sign of knowing he was being followed. There was plenty of traffic here in Beta Hydri as a mining hub of the galaxy. It was by deductive reasoning and Siobhan's personal experiences in her past contacts that she was able to deduce the Terran's final destination. He had made off with a Biostruct device according to the files and the shadowed activity in the lounge's camera eye recording said that he had manipulated Calliope Gans for it. The Terran meant to use the device for a Call Forward interpolation service, either on himself or another. Given the humorous, vulgar and widespread galactic advertisements of one particular Doctor of the Call Forward, Siobhan could think of one destination that stood out: Saturn's NET-7 SOL, home of Net-7 News and Dr. Pakkratius' office where he dared to do business using the secrets of the Sabine Order. Now Siobhan had only to make way to the newscorp station. It would take some time for this Terran to find, request, purchase and answer the Call Forward under the Doctor's care. His advertisement was being blared over the sector comm relay beacons even now: *The Doctor is IN at NET-7 SOL for all your Call Forward needs. Answer the Call today! Call Forward. Meet the new you.* Though he was just trying to make light of the process, Siobhan half-bristled and half-smiled at the humor. The Centuriata would have been incensed at their gene-immortality wholesale marketed like some common vendor item, component or system. But the Sabura Siobhan found the irony funny as she entered Saturn sector. Imperator Pakkrateus, with whom Siobhan had contact had the same sense of humor. Perhaps it was hard-printed in the genome with the Doctor, his older clone brother. Siobhan had never met the Pakkratius, but had viewed many of the so-called Anchor-rat's broadcasts over the galactic news source, Net-7 News. His face was becoming iconic in media, even to compete with Anchorwoman Zona Mason. Though the two were clone brothers, having the same genes, Imperator Pakkrateus looked far older for being the younger of the two. In her own adventures with the Imperator, Siobhan had learned that he suffered a one-in-eight-million odds of a gene fluke that caused his body to age slightly faster. Called Methuselah's Syndrome, the younger clone brother, Pakkrateus, always looked about a decade older than his truly older brother Pakkratius. Even then the two led very different lives and upbringings in the Collegia Forgemasters and Sabine Order respectively. And though their Factions were wedging apart, both had developed a brotherly friendship despite their separate iteration origins. It was a mystery still to Siobhan how this was. Now today, it seemed that the Sabura Warrior would meet the Doctor side of the genome that made up the two *Pakkrati*, the Sabine Sentinel. Hopefully it would be while the Terran was answering the Call Forward. * * * The Pakkrat sauntered happily into the main, studio lobby of NET-7 SOL, the neutral news station servicing the entire galaxy's need for the latest updates. He had a good year and a half of the newscorp broadcasts as he climbed the license ladder of his backwoods career. Yet as he watched camera crews and technicians set up for more segments and programming, he was about to ask for directions to the Doctor when a short and very stylized Terran female passed in front of him. "Not another one!" said the woman who reeked of stage makeup and chem-permed hair and looking at the trader. "Excuse me?" apologized the surprised Pakkrat. "Really?" demanded the lady. "Another look-alike impressionist for that stage-stealer. And not a very good one." She continued to dress down the off-guard trader. "Oh that's right! It's coming close time for Hallowed One's Eve and you want get a closer look at him. Such awkward fandom. You don't have his eyes for one thing..." "Ma'am I really don't kn-" the Pakkrat tried to explain himself before being interrupted. "You're one of his loyal fans come to fawn over him, aren't you?" demanded the lady. She was herself slightly interrupted by the call of a nearby technician. "You're on in fifteen, ma'am," announced the man in station uniform with a headset. The Pakkrat fired back at the confronting woman as she began to turn towards the set, "And you, ma'am. Are you dressed up as Zona Mason, Anchorwoman for Net-7 News for *Halloween*?" It caught the woman half-step before she recovered and went before the cameras. The trader saw the direction signs for the station's social lounge and departed from the studio, its rude celebrities and the entourage crews. The lounge was smaller and more Glenn Commission in its architecture. It had all the retro-look of his own era, thought the Pakkrat. Neon signs of various colors flashed or glowed alongside advertisement monitors and of course the monitors that fed directly from the adjacent news rooms he had just departed. Walking to a touch monitor, he ran a search for the station's Doctor of the Call Forward and came up with a room number a flight above the lounge. There was a brief moment of soreness in his arm which was different this time. Instead of a chronic dull ache, it was also heralded with a tingly sensation up the left side of his spine. This was new to the Pakkrat and he savored it as he rubbed his arm. It was as if he had been here before. It felt like *deja-vu*. But he shouldered the tingle and massaged out the soreness as he walked up the ramp to the next landing up. He was no Psi or at least he did not believe such was in his family tree. The Terran Trader was frozen before the sliding door of... DR. PAKKRATIUS, NET-7 NEWS ...when it opened before he could touch the buzzer. The door had a scratch or penetration that looked recent, as if someone had rammed a pointy object through its outer metal. The door opened fully and a Progen Sentinel with the Pakkrat's face stood before him in surprise. The Pakkrat must have had the same gawking gaze because both men stood there, the Progen looking up at the barely taller Terran. The Progen wore a white flight jacket over his racial armor, a utility belt full of medical gear and two chemical grenades. Progen, go figure. A heavy sidearm pistol with a laser scope rode a holster at his thigh. Net-7 News logos were over his armor instead of the usual Progen Republic's fisted honeycomb symbol. "I appreciate the fandom, I do," said the Progen first while the Pakkrat recovered. "But you don't need to go about mimicking my actual face. You are Terran. Show some individuality." "Coming from a Progen with *my* face," answered the trader, "that's like the pot calling the kettle black." "Excuse me?" returned the Doctor. "Old Earth saying back in my day." The Progen looked down at the InfinitiCorp badge that was poking out the top of the Terran's lapel trench pocket. Reading the name and the ages (plural) on the crystal employee badge, he looked closer at the trader. "Is this some sort of Hallowed One's Eve joke?" asked the Progen Doctor. "Somewhat what she said," answered the Terran who thumbed back behind him at the studio he had arrived from. "I don't find this amusing," declared the Progen who put his fists on his hips. "Neither do I. You have my face." "Rather the reverse, sir." "Oh?" challenged the Terran. He held out his crystal badge seeing that the Progen man before him had glanced at it. "Who came first, the chicken or the egg? I'm almost 200. You?" "That's impossible," the Doctor declared with crossing of his arms. It was a finality that said the encounter was soon to end. "Whatever. Look, I am here to answer the Call Whatever-thingy." "You're here for interpolation, Terran, not to Answer the Call, but close enough," corrected the Progen. The Pakkrat held out the Biostruct device case with the shattered corner. The Doctor with his face looked at it then received the case, examining it. "A little worse for wear, don't you think?" asked the Progen. The Terran trader shrugged. As long as the device inside worked. The Pakkrat had never engaged the service before. "Step inside then, Mr.-?" "Pakkrat." The Progen Sentinel rolled his eyes as he admitted the Terran. "Really?" "Says so on my badge, didn't it?" Before the two men could get any more in trouble with each other, the Doctor directed the patient to his mini-laboratory adjacent to his quarters here in the station. It was clean yet small, meant for only one patient and no waiting room. "You don't have a receptionist or a waiting room?" "I have applicants for a secretary and the waiting room is the lounge downstairs where they prescribe Liquid Courage for those thinking of the Call Forward." answered the Doctor. "Have a seat," he said, indicating the recliner in the middle of the lab. While the Trader sat down, the Doctor began technical activities to his equipment. "I've never had this done before," asked the Pakkrat. "Will it hurt?" The Dr. Pakkratius answered with the donning snap of rubber gloves. To the point, the Progen asked, "What are you having removed or as we say, 'Called'?" The Pakkrat had a flash of nervousness at the word 'removed' like it was some sort of excision. "Um. I don't want to make weapons anymore. I may tinker with engines a bit later, but that's still in the air too." "You have strange sayings, Terran," noted the Dr. Pakkratius. "Since I'm the older of us, how did you come by my name?" asked the Terran more calmly as the Sentinel prepared a large syringe and needle. It looked like a weapon to him. "I could ask you the same, but let's stay focussed," answered the Progen. "I'll have to take a base-line sample and scan for your genes to calibrate the lab's systems. Consent?" It sounded formal and yet practiced to say it that way. The man from Earth nodded his consent. "Then remove your coat and roll up your sleeve, please...sir." The Doctor had spoken like he was avoiding their supposedly-shared name. The Merchant Prince rolled up his arm sleeve after pulling off his trenchcoat. His arm was beginning to act up with its dull soreness. And there was that tingling sensation up the left side of his spine. The Pakkratius turned with the needle and attached tank (at least it looked that huge to the Terran), and saw the unidentified mark on the Terran's arm. He looked at the Terran with query in his eyes. Then he began to draw from the same site. With a full sample, the Doctor used it to begin mapping the genes of the Terran. "Are you sure you've never been Called before?" The Progen had turned his back on the patient. "I have never done this before, not to my recollection." "Your arm says otherwise." This caught the Pakkrat by surprise. "My arm? It's been like that ever since I woke up." While the machines began 'calibrating' and mapping his genes, the Pakkrat explained to the Pakkratius his story of how he had awoken after 161 years of cryostasis, the coma, the unidentified mark that was sore on occasion and how he went back to work for InfinitiCorp. After he finished, the systems gave a tiny alert sound of completion. The Doctor turned at the story and read off the information. "Hmm. This looks familiar, Terran." He turned and left the lab. In seconds the Pakkratius came back in with a data-tablet and activated it. Holding the tablet up next to the lab systems monitor, he seemed to be comparing the trader's genes to the ones on the tablet. "Astronomical probabilities," said the Pakkratius. "What?" asked the Pakkrat who was trying to see over the Doctor's shoulder at the results. "You have my gene-map." "That's impossible," said the trader, "I've only been awake for a year and a half and I've never had this Call-thingy." "Yes you have," corrected the Pakkratius. "That mark on your arm may be old, but if your story is true, then you were Called or at least 'mapped' while you were in cryostasis." "Why didn't the physicians at Loki Station identify it then?" asked the Pakkrat. He was beginning to feel vulnerable as if someone had done something non-consensual to his body. "Your Earth physicians are not trained in recognizing the Call Forward. This happened between the advent of the Call and the current allowed services of the Sabine to other, non-Progen races. Someone took your gene-map while you slept." As the Doctor started the process with the help of the Biostruct in the case, the Pakkrat took all this new information inward. The Terran physicians didn't know what they were looking at at the time of his medical. "Why does it feel sore on occasion?" the trader asked as the Doctor worked. "Hold still-," ordered the Doctor as he pushed the sample back into the Pakkrat with the tank-and-needle syringe. "You may feel-" The Pakkrat saw his entire life, minus his time in cryostasis, flash before his eyes. For a millisecond he remembered the Finn, giving him the nav-disc that sent him to the comet that incapacitated his old hauler. However, the intermediate classes and experience in making weapons was missing, though he remembered the classes. For the life of him in that full second of real time, the Pakkrat could not remember what the classes were about or their content. "There. Done," said the Doctor. "Your interpolation is done, 'Pakkrat'. The Doctor then addressed the patient's question. "Your chronic soreness is a mystery but I believe it has to do with someone having Called you Forward while you were still alive. This is something we did not do back then when you say you slept. The Restorers may know more and won't say, but there is plenty of speculation amongst the Doctors as to why this is so." "Oh, this is getting good," said the Pakkrat sarcastically. "Hit me with the most outlandish." "Okaaay," answered the Doctor who seemed to recall a singular example. "You may be sharing a piece of you, as a soul, with me......" His voiced trailed off as if there was more to say but the Doctor only mumbled the last to himself. "Quack," said the Pakkrat. "Come again?" asked the Dr. Pakkratius. "It just seems more than I can believe," the trader lied. "You did ask for the strangest explanation. I was being literal to the request." "Who did this to me while I was asleep, do you think?" The Sabine Order Sentinel answered, "Only the Sabine Order can perform the Call. It would have to be someone in the Order at that time. All Calls Forward are recorded and those records kept on file. Yet, this one done on a Terran back then would be highly illegal. Heretical even. Those records are kept, even if accurate, at Arx Magister under Progen Republic lock and key." "Why such secure records?" "In case anything like this went wrong." The Doctor patted the patient, "Wait here. You need to let the Call set in, in order to avoid Iteration Haze. Just rest while I look into this." The gesture felt like a brother touching an injured kin. The Pakkrat was left as the Dr. Pakkratius went outside the lab, the domicile-office and into the hall outside. The Pakkrat lay there and replayed the lost memories in his head, trying to recall what he'd given up to the Call Forward. Only the most basics of making a weapon remained in his head. Then the memory of the Finn evidenced again. The fixer had been the one to give the trader the nav-disc and the route. Buy why, other than to shave some time off the haul? Was it so he could be Called in his sleep? No. The Terran Alliance had no knowledge of the Sabine procedure back then. Hence, why the mark was still missed over a year ago when he underwent his medical to be released for work. The Progen kept their secrets. He had to see what, if anything, the long-dead Finn knew. But first, there was this mumbo-jumbo about being Called in his sleep by the Progen of the day.
  25. The Thule Project - Ch. I by Pakkrat I. The Lady Isabel DeWynter had reclined in her office aboard Somerled Station in orbit over New Edinburgh, Tau Ceti. She was concluding a meeting with her subordinate executives of InfinitiCorp's Research & Development branch, when her antique desk 'telephone' rang with an alerting ring. It never rang though she had hooked it up to the station's net long ago after having it wired for such. A hush fell upon the gathered executives as the device continued to ring. "Get out, all of you," Lady DeWynter ordered. The top-level personnel stood up, bowed politely and exited her immense and posh office. The archaic telephone continued to ring. Once she was alone, DeWynter lifted the receiver to her ear. She did not answer vocally. A voice, male and old came over the connection. "Lady DeWynter. There is a special message for you from us. Please open the time capsule and take in all that is provided. You will only get one instance before the message self-erases." There was a click as the telephone went silent. Reaching for her personal, shiny black data-tablet, Lady DeWynter, COO of InfinitiCorp opened the documents and kept them open for some time. She speed-read the files initially. Then she re-read much slower the second time. Pacing about the office with the device in hand, DeWynter wore her short, black hair down about her ears even during her office hours. The black silk under her leather overcoat betrayed only a jewelled necklace. Most of her arms were covered in goatskin opera gloves as she swiped past more images. DeWynter's heel boots clicked across the expensive imported marble floor. Her frame was in its prime as she tended to get her workouts in her spare time. Time capsule message was from InfinitiCorp itself over 150 Earth years ago. Its format translated quickly and unpacked to the technology of the current Crystal Age. It was directives and instructions. The sender however, though an upper-echelon employee of the company, was one of a very few members of the secret society of the Shadow Cabinet. The message had been time-triggered by events that were evidencing even as the documents presented themselves to DeWynter. It seemed that the Shadow Cabinet kept tabs on everything that went on everywhere in human space and made sure they were the ones to control the destiny of humanity. DeWynter, a secret member of the Shadow Cabinet, knew that the secret society stretched back throughout human history since the time of the pyramids in Egypt, Earth. Then, for reasons of their own lost to time, the Shadow Cabinet had an experience that caused them to vow to protect humanity from all non-terrestrial influences from then on. Secrecy, subtlety and ruthless manipulations were their hallmark. Other secret groups throughout human history were but side-branch, scapegoat sacrifices the Shadow Cabinet made available to humanity to crush, expose or debunk, all in the name of staying in business of keeping humanity 'safe'. DeWynter herself was beginning to suspect others throughout human space of being member of the Shadow Cabinet, seeing how the secretive entity worked through out history. Who knew if other members were working with her or against her in the grand scheming of the Shadow Cabinet? Was she a player or a sacrificial lamb? In this super-secret missive, DeWynter was to merely sign off on a Search And Rescue of an InfinitiCorp employee that had disappeared over 150 years ago in a discarded space route. Now a distress beacon was signalling from the ship that had disappeared. The *Labyrinth Runner*, captained by an employee call-signed 'Pakkrat' had long ago left with a cargo, supposedly smuggled to InfinitiCorp's chief rival, the Good Earth Trading Company or GETCo. The hauler had never arrived at the intended destination. DeWynter was commanded by the Shadow Cabinet to have an un-manned drone salvage operation authorized, funded and sent to the Kuiper Belt of Sol to bring back the hulk derelict of this Pakkrat's ship. The last file in the time capsule message to Lady DeWynter warned of possible interference from higher intelligences and to take steps to bring home the *Labyrinth Runner* at all costs. The pilot was most likely dead. So the entire salvage would be quick and quiet per the hidden movements of the Shadow Cabinet. She was to cover all of her tracks. Lady Isabel DeWynter committed the documents to memory, making sure she understood all the Shadow Cabinet wished of her. With a shiny, black stylus, the COO of InfinitiCorp signed off on the Drone SAR operation. It would take a month of bureaucracy and logistics for the wreckage to be returned to Earth sector and the cargo re-captured. Then she let the time capsule message erase itself forever. Robotic drones would journey to the beacon's site and extract the ship and bring it to the Infinity Campus in Earth sector. "Joga," said DeWynter to her secretary and bodyguard. "Mistress," answered the Progen woman who came to attention. The genetic-engineered female was both a sleek mass of muscles and so much more and DeWynter took her everywhere she went. The Beta-caste Progen clone was special and would have been forbidden in Terran space had her deeper secret been known. Joga had been given telempathic Psi genes to compliment her powerful frame, armor and weapons. With her mild psionics, Joga was indispensable in DeWynter's meetings and negotiations whenever InfinitiCorp did business. She was never seated except in commute in grav-cars and shuttles. Otherwise the Progen secretary either stood or was asleep in her quarters. "Schedule a flight to Earth sector in a month," DeWynter ordered. "Let us see what this 'Pakkrat' had in his hold." "Yes, Mistress," said Joga who then went to work with her armored forearm vambrace's PDA device. With business flair the secretary had the COO personal vessel scheduled in seconds. Lady Isabel DeWynter then went back to work, business as usual, as if the telephone had never rung. The next month saw the *Andromeda*, DeWynter's personal sleek and black capital ship covertly sending shuttles on inspections tours at the Infinity Campus facility. Neatly, the capital ship was never sensed or scanned such was its stealth capability. DeWynter was on hand when a cadre of drones hauled in a find from Sol's Kuiper Belt. It was a pre-Gate War, InfinitiCorp hauler of an age and registry over 150 years old. Never quite struck from active duty and listed as missing, the *Labyrinth Runner* was pulled into a salvage berth by the drones and parked. The ship's emergency beacon still pulsed its distress. The salvage complete sometime later, DeWynter found she did not get what she wanted and got something she did not want instead. The drones hauled in the cryostasis capsule of a survivor. The pilot was still alive! With the crowd of reporters from Net-7 News, its Earth affiliates, and various net-blog journalists crowding the find, DeWynter was forced to acknowledge the rescue of a long-lost pilot and employee of InfinitiCorp. "Lady DeWynter," asked a Net-7 News Reporter to her distracted displeasure, "the pilot inside is alive and in stable cryostasis. Who is he? What is the history behind this pilot's journey?" "Where is it?" angrily mumbled DeWynter. "Where is what, Lady?" asked another Reporter. The pilot of the salvaged *Labyrinth Runner* was identified and rushed to a medical facility at Loki Station in High Earth orbit and was slowly coaxed over six months from cryostasis, given his extended sleep. Corporate lawyers, oft-deemed "ambulance chasers", immediately fought to represent the comatose pilot and employee of InfinitiCorp. They soon learned that the pilot was both insured and "on the clock" when he disappeared. Courts of Earth subsequently jammed to a standstill over the employee's 161-year retrograde pay, supposedly to be rendered by the company. The pilot's rate of pay was a pittance against the mega-corporation, but it was the continuous amount over the term that made it sizeable. If the courts upheld the case, the man was due to retire three lifetimes over when he woke up. If he woke up. Until then, the courts were an arena spectacle. The vessel's logs were present in the ship's dead computer. It took some time for the technicians to find computers old enough to interface with the computer banks of the old hauler. The ship had been fully loaded with enriched, weapons-grade uranium that had long become depleted by its half-life. When DeWynter did not find what she secretly expected, she hid her furious countenance under a public mask of goodwill toward the pilot, the Pakkrat. After a few barked orders, Lady Isabel DeWynter stalked out on the inspections early, claiming she was tired and secretly retreated to the *Andromeda* and departed back to Tau Ceti. Galactic media had a short attention span, the Pakkrat soon learned as he slowly sat up with the help of his nurses and to the glaring light of the cameras here in the Crystal Age. His trimmed-beard face barely made it on the system news and was soon lost to the glitz and sensationalism of other galactic events that shadowed the patient. Six months of recuperative coma and three weeks of torturous therapy had the Pakkrat back on his feet. Since the courts were still stalled over minutiae of his case, the pilot was at least allowed to continue onward as an employee of InfinitiCorp. He was brought up to speed to the Crystal Age's history with crash-course after crash-course. With a smiling Welcome Home face from COO DeWynter on a masercom connection from Tau Ceti, the Pakkrat was 'graciously' put back in command of a new Terran Tradesman-class vessel (he named it *Labyrinth Runner* after his old hauler) and back to work, like nothing had happened. The only marks that showed were his sore arm, (the source of his mild pain was still a mystery) and his employee crystal badge that showed two employee ages: ~37 years and followed by ~198 years. This was about the full recognition of his claim to all that money the Terran from North America might see. During the Pakkrat's recovery, the Lady DeWynter filed her report and future directives concerning the rescued pilot. She had slim hope, due to the trader's coma, that he would somehow recall his final location before entering cryostasis. *I want this rat watched closely. If he even twitches a whisker wrong, the EarthCorps has permission to terminate the employee. -DeWynter* * * * The Pakkrat fell out of his bed and onto the cold, metal grate that served as the floor to his rented room. His pocket-PDA's alarm was ringing, buzzing, vibrating and otherwise being a nuisance. The man struggled, crawling and trying to make as little contact with the floor as possible as he fished for the device in a pocket of his dingy, off-white trenchcoat. With his vision still blurry from last night's dream of being chased by space angels that shot lightning at him, the Terran found the device and silenced the alarm. The time was still blurry in his vision, but the date managed to penetrate his mind. It was a year and a half or so ago since he'd restarted his career with InfinitiCorp. He was about to celebrate his 150th license milestone and have the option to retire from InfinitiCorp. He'd have done so sooner, but those pesky courts held their own, alien timetable it seemed. "Lights," he managed to rasp out. When nothing happened, the Pakkrat remembered where he was. Progen stations had manual switches for lighting and heating. That's right, he thought. He was still here in a Progen backwater called Nostrand Vor, capital and home to the Collegia Forge-whatevers. The Terran fell back into his bed with his PDA and looked at his itinerary for today. Oh. More of the hauling Collegia-brand "Aromatic Chocolate" to the Aragoth frontier. Great, he thought sarcastically. Pakkrat remembered his last binge of the stuff as he returned here. It had made him so drowsy that he had trudged from the hangar to his room here at Nostrand Vor City on the planet's surface. Yet the Jenquai of Fenris Observatory kept ordering the stuff by the cargo load, so much so that the Pakkrat had been forced to use cargo-expansion technologies to carry twice as much to the happy and lethargic Jenquai in the Aragoth solar system frontier. The Terran trader had shipped so much of the candy that the 'aromatic' aroma of the spiced chocolate had permeated the entirety of his ship's cargo hold. This had been the most backwater-to-frontier shipping route that paid well enough for the eight or so jumps through the InfinitiGates that linked sectors to sectors and solar systems to the edge of human space. Though the Pakkrat had cashed in on the profit of the trade route, he got the impression that it was the local Collegia's Signifier Armicustos that cashed in on something far more valuable. The return trip from Fenris sector, Aragoth saw an entire hold of Raw Data Crystals returned in trade to Nostrand Vor. What was stored on the crystals the Pakkrat could not fathom, yet it was valuable somehow to the Progen of this Faction. The Progen Traders caste had been adamant that these crystals held information to help them get back into the economy when pitted against the likes of InfinitiCorp, GETCo, Sundari, Nishido, BlackSun and a plethora of other developers and manufacturers. If the info was coming from the Jenquai, it was probably a good investment when you saw crystals coming in and candy leaving. This was obviously no normal Terran chocolate, like one purchased at Earth Station, no. This was "Collegia Aromatic Chocolate". If you did not eat it, at least it freshened your immediate living space. Finally he decided to rise and shine, though he felt like a hung sandworm used for fun as a punching bag by the Progen of Nostrand Vor. A notification popped up on his PDA as he was preparing to meet the sandy planetside again. It was closing in on that birthday, his 39th or 200th, (depending on who you asked). What was he going to get himself for his birthday, he asked. How would he celebrate? He did not have many friends. Here in this Crystal Age, Pakkrat had not set aside much time for social life. He, like many other Terran Traders, was focused on making credits (what they called money now) enough to call it a life and kick back on the beaches of Shakti Pleasure Moon and watch scantily-clad Jenquai ladies play in the surf. "Time is money." was the axiom for the capitalistic Terrans. He'd tossed dice at the casino at Friendship 7 Station, played around with the nightlife at Venera Highport. He'd even tried some meditation classes with the Jenquai at the remote Charon Cloister, the very station that had catalogued the so-called Ancient Gate at Akeron's Gate sector. Not much luck there, that he had hoped to be able to soothe chronic soreness that his arm refused to relinquish. On a whim, the Pakkrat looked at his work record and career file on the hand-held device. In this time, the Crystal Age, he was listed with the title "Merchant Prince". That did not make him feel any more royal, given that he was in a one-person rental on a desert planet in the hind-end of Progen space. While an excellent negotiator and haggler over trade goods and was good at navigating the fastest routes through the sectors, the trader had never been much more than a speed-demon engine builder and that was losing its calling as well. He had the basics and some intermediate courses in building weapons, but the Pakrkat's career as a Q-ship pilot was fizzling with no great engagements to speak of. He never felt himself a fighter or militant like those that ran off to join this age's service, the EarthCorps. Making money was always slightly more attractive than glory or victory. So, for his birthday, the Pakkrat decided he was going to have his intermediate skills - what was the term? - *called forward* by the Sabine Order two sectors of Progen space over. Then afterwards, he could try something else besides building or battling. It was called the Call Forward and, according to current affairs, the Progen Sabine Order had only recently allowed its Sentinels to offer the genetic interpolation services out to the citizenry of all races who could afford the expensive and superscience of genetic manipulation. By isolating certain genes, memories, and other un-named traits, the Call Forward allowed the Sabine Order to give back the space that such experiences, training, and what-not took up to the patient. Then the patient could re-route his life or career more to his or her liking. The Terran trader had learned that originally, the Call Forward had been utilized in cloning fallen Warriors of the Centuriata to new life, to serve again. The act of such return was termed "Answering the Call Forward", like some infantry movement clarion call to duty. The Pakkrat had heard stories of Progen who had repeatedly Answered the Call many times and that these Warriors felt and acted as if they were immortal beings. Skills, memories, experiences, personality, and so much more were contained in their "gene-maps" that were recorded by the Sabine Order Reclaimers or found in space along great battle zones. Then like grave-robbers, the Reclaimers would spirit the gene-maps back home to bring the Warrior back from the dead. It was science-meets-necromancy to the Pakkrat and he rubbed his sore arm whenever he thought too much about the Call Forward. Nowadays, the Call Forward was offered, in its lesser fashion, to all three races, the Jenquai, the Terrans and of course the Progen. One need not be found in space dead, (like the Pakkrat may have been) to have internal traits removed and emptied in favor of trying new avenues on life. The Sabine Order advertised the Call Forward as a service towards slow-and-steady perfection of the human genome. And the Pakkrat decided this morning as he left his rental room to take a day off and give up a life of making weapons systems for good. He was a lover, not a fighter. The Terran Trader arisen from High Earth, made for the hangar, bypassing the bazaar. He picked up a Meal Ready to Eat (or MRE) from the lounge and hoped to the Powers it did not have anything sandworm in it. Then the Pakkrat entered his gleaming white Terran trader with a huge wing decal of a circular labyrinth. It was captioned with the ship's name, *Labyrinth Runner*. The Tradesman-class ship he flew was built far more sleek and maneuverable than his old hauler. It had rounded wing rims toward the bow and huge cargo section containers aft. The engines were finned and amidships to the port and starboard side. Humanity had streamlined cargo transport in this Crystal Age. The Terran Tradesman vessel had nigh the most cargo capacity than many other classes without skimping on speed of transport. Now nearing Overall License 150, the *Labyrinth Runner's* many upgrades and tweakings were beginning to feel more a home than a vehicle. Still, in the current times, space was violent. To that order, the Terran from North America had chosen the fire-and-forget weapons of missiles as his ship's favored. The class had sported four hard-points with which to seek out stylish and yet effective weapons. Pakkrat had heard of plenty of nasty fish in the water and chose his load-out carefully. Some of his high-end weaponry had come from pirates, others from biological ship-eaters that could pierce vessels with crystalline teeth and a strong jaw. Other weapons merely were purchased on the open market from various manufacturers like BlackSun, Sparta! and the now-defunct DigiApogee line of Prototypes. To the Pakkrat, a weapon was just another weapon. Offenses and defenses, supplementary devices and core systems all made up his lovely *Labyrinth Runner* a vessel to make the trip fast as possible while avoiding the baddies. As the Pakkrat backed out of the huge port city hangar of Nostrand Vor, he saw the galactic news cycle as Net-7 News played its theme music news jingle and the paired Anchors came into light. One was the vibrant Zona Mason, the Terran Anchorwoman. The other was-. Great Scot! The red-tanned Progen man sitting next to Mason had Pakkrat's face! The trader only saw the face for a split-second and was far away when the blast doors slammed shut before his ship's bow. The thick doors protected the hangar form the harsh sandstorms and sandworm fauna of the desert planet. Had he been mistaken, the Pakkrat wondered. Perhaps he was still trying to wake up, the Terran told himself. Well the Progen man did have red irises and a much redder skin complexion. His own were a silver-gray, a byproduct of having his light blue eyes lighten so much after such an extended cryostasis. A human's iris coloration still aged even as the sleeper slept. The pilot ran a hand through his bristly stiff gray hair as he winged the Tradesman around and flew off to the gate to planetary orbit. Maybe he was getting old for a man of almost two hundred. Soon, the Terran Trader was at maximum warp as his ship sped across sectors of space. He had long ago decided that nav-paths were for less-skilled or equipped ships. The *Labyrinth Runner* had now attained nav-independence and its reactor and engines could take straight lines over most any of the largest of sectors of the known and trodden solar systems. Thus, the Pakkrat made quick work of the Altair III system and was soon to enter Endriago sector of Gallina. * * * She had only returned to Endriago a little more than a week. Praenoman Lareth Vinda-K (though should anyone call her by her initial iteration name she would have them reclaimed) or more formally Magna Vinda stood before a bank of computers and peered back and forth between the wall-mounted monitors and her vambrace PDA. The armored Beta-caste leader of the Sabine Order of the Progen Republic thought she might have a break from all the excitement of this past year. Now this. A warning in deep, flashing red called for the attention of Magna Vinda. Though on the public net terminal, the notification could only be accessed by Vinda herself, decoded only by algorithms, a password and a quick gene-map scan. These precautions she took as she then downloaded the alarming message to her PDA. Reading it as she stalked off at the intrusion, Vinda saw the index tags and looked about her at the station's crews, staff, workers, technicians and visitors. This had to be a cruel joke! Vinda knew what others said about her behind her back. But this topic was too far in the past and far too encrypted to be some laugh at Vinda's expense. The notification had once been put into place many years ago, should its conditions be met. But this one had to be an error, a glitch or net hiccup. A gene-map's DNA double helix and codes fell across her PDA screen and warned her of incoming trouble. The Pakkrat Master Genome was currently outside of the Sabine Gene Repository, the home of the Restorers in the space above Endriago Planet. The notification was a fail-safe alarm Vinda had input long ago after she had iterated her lab rats, the Pakkratius and his younger clone brother Pakkrateus. But now the original genome was loose in space and the sector scanners had detected it moving across the sector. Magna Vinda, leader of the Sabine Order became worried. If anyone scanned those genes and saw that they had once been gleaned from a Terran, the gene-scientist paper trail would lead back to Vinda. Using Terran genes was only one step less heretical to include inside the Progen matrix than using the hated Jenquai genes. It was heresy to taint the Progen race and Vinda knew it. She had committed such a sin long ago with the Pakkrat Master Genome when she was young, rash and power-hungry. It was a deep, dark skeleton she had kept hidden and on lock-down for as long as those two had been iterated and educated in a Progen gestation matrix. If this got out, she and her other Projects, the Sabura Warriors for another example, were in danger. She had to take action immediately so soon from the recent trouble she had undertaken across the galaxy in the new, Jenquai-discovered Antares Frontier. *Damn!* She went to the first Reclaimer she found. It was Doctrinaire Zyrith Sky, a Sabine Order Sentinel of the First Charge. With an edge in her voice that meant business, she ordered, "Get me sat-comm. I need to a direct and encrypted connection with Arx Spartoi. Now!" The Reclaimer saluted immediately and ran off to make the proper, secured connections. Soon, Vinda was in touch with the orbital station, the Place of Life - Arx Spartoi. Arx Spartoi was so-named because it was there that the Sabine Order most often performed the Call Forward through the use of the one-use Biostruct Devices that were sold, thus garnering the Station and the Sabine Order another means of income besides the Order's usual mining, refining, scientific and genetic avenues. The Biostructs were purchased by those seeking the interpolations and were keyed by a Sentinel to target the patient's traits that were to be removed. Only one source on the entire station made the Biostructs available. Calliope Gans, a female Progen Specialist answered the secured line to the planet surface, to Porvenir Mons, the signal's source. Calliope Gans spoke first with "Gans here. Magn-" but she was cut off quickly by Vinda. "Calliope. One of the Pakkrats are closing fast on Arx Spartoi. Whomever they are, they are not to be sold Biostruct devices, acknowledge." Vinda's voice was fast and imperative to the Specialist. "Yes, Magna Vinda. What should I-" and again she was truncated. "I don't know. Get rid of him. Just don't let him buy any Biostruct devices." "Yes, ma'am," answered Gans who saluted as Vinda cut the signal with finality. Vinda chewed a thumb, something she was apt to do when again under stress. *As if Antares had not been enough!* Then Vinda called the Sabine Gene Repository, home of the hermetic Restorers - keepers of the gene-maps there. She asked if a long series of numbered gene-maps were secure. In that series was hidden the Pakkrat Master Genome, the same genome that was docking at Arx Spartoi right now. In seconds, the Restorers assured Magna Vinda that all the gene-maps she listed were indeed secure and under the tightest precautions available. No one had visited the Repository in days. So, the only remaining explanation, however improbable, had to be true. With the service-stricken (Terrans called it being 'fired') Magister Magna Dr. Pakkratius, Anchor-rat of that nosy Net-7 News currently in Saturn and on the air right now; it could not be him at Arx Spartoi. Additionally, Vinda had intelligence from her Sentinels that the younger, Collegia iteration Imperator Pakkrateus was running tours from Friendship 7 to Mercury Station in Glory's Orbit; he too could not be returning to the Place of Life anytime soon. There was a social wedge growing between the Sabine Order and their errant child, the Collegia Forgemasters. Neither of the two iterations was close to Endriago, Gallina. The last and final probability came to Vinda. The original Pakkrat had to be awake after over 150 years! Such cryostasis had to be a miracle to survive. Yet the sensor satellites had been calibrated to detect gene-maps over the entirety of Endriago sector perfectly. It had to be the Terran! Not to let one hand know what the other hand was doing, Vinda called to all the Sabine Order Sentinels aboard Arx Spartoi. Her orders were simple: should a male Terran, posturing as the celebrity Anchor-rat for Net-7 News, the Pakkratius, show for a Call Forward, that Sentinel should Reclaim him 'accidentally' and his gene-map stored at the Sabine Repository until further notice. To the Progen, reclamation was just another euphemism for killing a person for their gene-map and putting it in storage for later use. It was not murder as the Progen were supposedly immortal via the Call Forward. Utterly destroying a gene-map; now that was murder. There were only two Doctors (those Sentinels who had completed training in Calling patients Forward) currently aboard the station, both of whom acknowledged the reclamation order. All other Sentinels were of lower license, yet to take the final exams and practicals. "For the Republic, Magna Vinda." "Hail Vinda. It will be done." If the docking Pakkrat, or whatever it was truly lived and breathed, Vinda meant to cover her ass. * * * The *Labyrinth Runner* glided easily in the red, iron-girded docking berth of Arx Spartoi. It's pilot, the Pakkrat emerged and smiled. It was getting closer to his birthday and he wanted wanted to look and feel a little younger through "Answering the Call". So, he was smiling with a plan to answer the call of the wild when he got back to Terran space. After asking directions to where to go for the Call, he marched happily like a customer about to get a pedicure, a shampoo, and a shave all simultaneously. Into the lounge, a restaurant, bar and a Sentinel supplies vendor hall rolled into one spacious environment of more Progen red and steel everywhere. This lounge was at least cleaner than most Progen dives that were often full of cigar smoke and reeked of testosterone and egotism. A Progen named Ort pointed the Terran Trader to the shadowy corner where stood a Progen woman. The Pakkrat put on his best, Befriending face and took the steps vibrantly. At the upper landing, his arm started its dull ache again. Rubbing his arm, he bowed politely to her. "Greetings, ma'am," Pakkrat began. "I'm to understand that to um- answer-" "Yes, Terran," answered the woman. She was armored in red and steel and yet wore a loose-fitting white smock under all those heavy plates. Cybernetic enhancements replaced her ears with specialized receptors. Her hair was shaved to a set of falls behind her head and she wore thin, black, oval sunshade glasses as an accessory even in this dim corner of the lounge. "Specialist Calliope Gans, and you are-?" "Merchant Prince Pakkrat, ma'am, if you buy into such titles," Pakkrat identified himself. "And what can I do for you, Merchant Prince Pakkrat?" "I was hoping you could help me, y'know, answer the call."
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