Stargazers Codex #003: "Dive Space"

Codex 003: Dive Space\

Imagine Dive Space like a folded piece of paper with a hole cut through it.  When folded, you can move through the holes clearly and cleanly, and when unfolded, the paper is its normal length.  Dive Space functions on the same principle, except the paper is space itself and, once a ship dives or surfaces, the holes mend. 

            Scientifically speaking, the term “compressed space,” is more accurate and more widely used by the scientific community.  Dive Space, however, has become popularized to the point of conventional usage.  The term evokes the image of a submarine of old dipping into the water, only to appear elsewhere, unharmed.  The image is not wholly inaccurate, though the description of what it does it not entirely factual.

            The Yggdrasil Drive, designed and fashioned after the more advanced compression drives found on Guide ships, allows ships to exit what has been called ‘flat space’ or ‘linear space’ and allow them to move in what is called ‘compressed space.’  Compressed space, which moves the ship beyond the speed or light (or more accurately outside of light) leaves the ship’s exterior darkened as the ship moves rapidly between vast distances.

            Through the creation and eventual refinement of the Yggdrasil Drive, which much of the work being done by the famed Ouranus Innovative Technologies, an Yggdrasil Drive requires priming and coordinates.  Then, a ship will ‘dive’ into compressed space and surface at those coordinates upon arrival.  Often, this is understood by laymen as being instantaneous, but just as with a hole through paper, space must be covered even if the length trip is greatly diminished.

            This can be seen in the first successful test done, a pioneer flight made between the Alpha star of the Republic to the Beta star neighboring it.  This trip, formerly, would have taken weeks.  With the use of an Yggdrasil Drive, the very same trip was capable of being made within only a few days.  Since, it has been improved to a few hours, and some scientists believe as we come to understand the nature of space travel and of the Guide technology, we may be able to make such trips in minutes or seconds.

            While all of this seems unreal, there are still dangers to the use of Dive Space and the Yggdrasil Drive.  In particular, Dive Coordinates must place ships outside of gravitational sinks, the most common of which are planetary orbits and atmospheres.  While a ship can, theoretically, surface within a planet’s atmosphere, placement is difficult at the best of times, and gravity plays havoc on the return.  Attempts have found ships tearing apart or disappearing inside of a planet’s crust.

            The danger of a dive malfunction also exists, though such errors are more discreet.  In early tests of the Yggdrasil Drive saw ships simply disappearing into the aether, never to return.  In popular media, there are stories of ghost ships found derelict following a drive malfunction or run by an ageless crew unaware of the time that has passed outside of their compression bubble.  Most theorists, however, say the ships are simply lost, the compressed space collapsing on them and reducing them to nothing.

Stargazers: Charon Station

 Hades: Charon Station

            The planet Hades glitters like a black pearl.  Across its surface, a sprawling city sparkles in the darkness.  Spinning with it as it orbits the Omega Star, the space station Charon is tethered to the soil of the planet by a massive elevator that brings goods and people to and from its surface.

            Achilles docks in the station.  Hades, and Charon by extension, exist on the fringes of Republic space.  As a result, it has become a nesting ground for criminals, political refugees, or anyone avoiding government oversight as a rule.  At this point, the militaries of the galaxy allow it this freedom.  Everyone, they have realized, needs a place to be, and it is better to have as much of the crime localized to one, lawless star system rather than spreading like a disease to the others.

            In Lancelot’s eyes, Charon is the safest place in the galaxy at the moment.  He is seated in his captain’s chair, leaned back, his head on his balled fist.  When the ship locks into place with a small lurch, he stands and issues orders.  There will be no rest.  They will repair and resupply, and then they will leave immediately.

            He grabs two soldiers and brings them with him to the brig.  At the big door, they stop, and Lancelot looks at the two fresh-faced soldiers awaiting his command.  They regard him soberly, with mixed fear and respect, as he prefers.  Each is a mountain of a man, but they know he could kill them without a struggle.

            “I want you two on Arthur.  The girl will be mine.”

            They salute and follow him inside, where Chastity is curled up on the bed.  Arthur is seated beside her, and he rises to meet them as they enter.  One mountain grabs him immediately while the other plants a fist into his gut.  Lancelot passes Arthur without even a second glance.

            He grabs Chastity by the hair and pulls her onto the floor.  Then, with his open palm, he strikes her hard when she starts to cry.  Her face swells red while he drags her from the room.

            “Lancelot,” Arthur shouts, struggling against the two soldiers.  They punch him again, this time with enough force to knock his legs out from under him.  He goes limp in their arms.

            “I’m done with your games,” Lancelot says, dragging Chastity by the hair while she stumbles after him.  “I’m done with your lies and your misinformation.  So, here is what we will do.”  He throws her into the wall and drags his pistol from his hip.  Cocking it, he presses the barrel into Arthur’s forehead.  “What do you know about the Guides?  How do we wake that one up?”

            “I. Don’t. Know!”  Chastity speaks through sobs, tears and snot smearing and mixing on her cheeks, choking her as she struggles to breath between coughs and whimpers.

            “Wrong answer!”  Lancelot strikes Arthur across the skull with the butt of his pistol.  Blood warms his palm.  “You know what I want.  Tell me the truth, girl!”

            “I am! I am telling you the truth!”

            Lancelot growls, presses the cold barrel into Arthur’s head once again.  “Last. Chance.  He will die, and it will be your fault.”

            “Please!  Stop!  I don’t know.  I don’t know anything—I don’t...”  She struggles to her feet, falls to her knees, and then crawls toward him like a child.  One of the mountains leaves Arthur to grab her by the neck and hold her in place.  She sobs louder.  “I don’t know.  I don’t know.  I don’t...”

            “Then what do you know?”

            “Nothing.  We couldn’t figure it out.  We couldn’t find anything...”

            “Stop it, Stephen,” Arthur says, lifting his head to meet Lancelot’s gaze.  “You know this sort of interrogation is useless on a civilian.  She’ll agree to anything to get you to stop.”

            Lancelot gives a long, hard stare, and then hits him again with the gun.  “Then it’s pointless to keep either of you around,” Lancelot says.  Chastity’s eyes go wide.

            “Wh-What...I...”

            “If I can’t even trust your information,” Lancelot says.

            “P-Please, if I just had Cipher, I could...The biggest hurdle in Guide technology is the language, and we....”  She falls back into sobs.

            “What was that, about Cipher,” Lancelot says, drawing near to her.  He made sure to move in a way that kept the pistol always in her vision.

            “C-Cipher was my A.I.  I-It’s processing speed was...We were using it to find matching patterns in the software codes of the Guides a-and...Without it, I don’t have anything.”

            “But you have your brain, don’t you?” Lancelot taps her temple with the barrel of his gun. “And you’re a genius, yes?”

            “But...”

            “And you’re in a desperate situation,” he says, grabbing her tight by the face and holding her, forcing her to stare into his dark eyes.  “Because if you’re useless to us, then we space you.  So, damned if you do, damned if you don’t.  At least if you try, you stay alive a fraction longer.  Right?”

            She swallows.

            “Right?”

            “R-Right.”

            He holds his gaze on hers before flipping the safety on the gun.  Taking her from the soldier, he holds her by the arm and drags her toward the door.  The second mountain returns to Arthur, where the first has him pinned him to the floor. 

            “I want you to understand,” Lancelot said to Chastity.  “If you even WALK in the wrong direction, I will kill you.  Do you understand?”

            She nods.

            “Good.”  He looks back at the soldiers.  “Do what you want with him but keep him alive.  I’m taking her to the Guide.

            “Sir!”  The soldiers salute and wait for Lancelot to leave before letting Arthur up to have their fun.

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

            Lancelot drags Chastity by the throat through the empty halls of Achilles.  It is a small ship, dimly lit, with steel gray walls and flooring.  The interior is reinforced, suffocating, and inescapable, and Chastity’s feet come from under her as she struggles to keep pace.

            They reach a gray doorway and Lancelot throws her down.  He keys it open and then kicks her inside, where she curls up to cry on the floor.  Like the last room, this room is angular and thickly insulated.  It is designed to keep her in and keep others out.  She stares up at Lancelot, who watches her with hollow eyes.

            Grabbing her by the hair, he pulls her to standing and shoves her toward the table.  There, the Lady sleeps, no longer held within the confines of its private chamber.  Up close, she appears human.  A blanket is draped over its body, hugging its seemingly female form.  Its hair is blond and straight, its skin porcelain.  Chastity comes to a stop, gasping over the Lady.

            “This is the last time.  Wake. Her. Up.”

            Chastity braces against the table, crying, and stares at the Lady.  “I can’t,” she whines, and inside she begs for divine intervention.  All her life, she never really believed in God.  At this moment, she is desperately hoping to be proven wrong.  “I can’t,” she says, and her legs give out.  She falls beside the bed, holding the edge, weeping.

            Lancelot growls and slams Chastity’s head into the bed before letting her collapse onto the floor.  “I warned you what would happen,” he says.  “I won’t just kill you, girl.  You know that!”

            She lies there on the floor, holding herself, crying.

            He grunts.  “Fine, then, if this won’t jog your memory.” He smacks her one last time and reaches back, kneeling over her as he grabs his sword and lets it unfold.  The blade it sleek and thin.  The edge gleams.

            “Please...”  Chastity struggles until he smacks her again, and then she stares as he kneels on one knee above her.  He holds her by the throat, the blade pointed toward her neck.

            “I didn’t want to kill you,” he said, and he sighed.  “Such a waste.”

            Her cheeks burn, and she tastes blood.  She closes her eyes and waits, patiently, for her death.  She waits, and she waits, and just as the cold steel touches her neck and draws blood, he is lifted from her.  She hears him hit the wall across the hall.

            Opening her eyes, she finds the Lady standing there, naked save for a blanket tied around its midsection.  Kneeling, it gingerly touches Chastity’s neck and wipes the blood away.  Then, lifting Chastity, its stands.

            Chastity winces.  “You?”

            Lady stares at her, holds her close, and passes Lancelot’s unconscious body as they leave the room.

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

            Arthur falls back against the wall, his body sore, blood running down his nose.  His hands are cuffed behind him, and the two guards are taking turns venting their frustrations.  One stands by the door while the other strikes him.  Periodically, they switch.  The room has grown hot with movement, and they’ve rolled up their sleeves or removed their uniforms over time.

            They switch.  A big man, looking more like a mountain than he did before as Arthur’s eyes swell shut, approaches and hefts Arthur up by the shoulders.  There is murder in his smile.  Behind him, the doorway bulges with a metallic groan.  Everyone stops to look as the door falls inward, toppling the man beside it and revealing the Lady now in its place.

            The remaining guard hesitates.  He drops Arthur and reaches for his pistol, but the Lady is fast and lithe.  Moving like liquid, the Lady slides into range and drives one hand into his chest.  His ribs crack audibly, and he folds into himself while wrestling with his gun.  When he draws it, the Lady takes his wrist and snaps it deftly before throwing him, hard, into the far wall.

            The Lady then approaches Arthur on the floor.  He watches as it reaches over his shoulder, almost gently, and pulls him to standing.  Then, holding his cuffs, it twists the chain between them and snaps it in half.  Behind it, outside of the door, Chastity peeks in, eyes hollow.

            “You’re okay!”  Arthur moves around the Lady, intercepting Chastity as she falls into his arms.  She cries into his chest, her face smearing the blood there.  He holds her and soothes her with gentle whispers.

            “That man,” she says.  “He’s a monster.  He’s a complete monster.  He wouldn’t listen to a word I said, he just kept...”

            “I know, I know.”  Arthur pats the back of her head and helps her to stand.  Then, he looks her in the eyes.  Blood vessels have burst in her right eye, leaving it red.  Bruises are forming all across her face.  “Where is he now?”

            Chastity looks past Arthur, at the Lady, who stands patiently and without expression.

            Arthur turns and regards the Lady, too.  “And who is that?”

            “That is the Lady.  She’s the entire reason we were on Canaan in the first place.  The greatest scientific discovery in the galaxy, maybe even the entire universe.  The first Guide ever found.”

            “She’s a Guide?”

            Chastity nods.  “And now she’s awake, and she’s killing.”

            Arthur looks at the men on the ground.  “Maybe, but she’s on our side, I think,” Arthur looks back at the Lady, “Aren’t you?”

            It eyes him silently, and then moves past him and out into the hall, where its stops, and waits, and watches them.

            Arthur follows it with his eyes and then takes Chastity by the shoulder.  He squeezes her gently.  “I think we should follow...it.”

            “Probably,” Chastity says, her eyes cast downward.  She is staring at the guard under the door, at the blood leaking out of his skull.

            Arthur lifts her face and looks her in the eyes.  She stares through him.  “You okay?”

            Like Lady, the Chastity is silent.

            Arthur takes her hand.  “Just stay with me,” he says, and he leads her out of the room and to the Lady’s side.  “I’m trusting you,” he says to the Guide, and without a word, the Lady leads them forward, down the hall.

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

            Lancelot wakes sore and breathless and pulls himself to his feet.  His ribs are broken, he knows that much, but his single-minded rage pushes him through the pain and down the hall.  On the way, he slams his fist on the comm.  “Helm, this is the captain.  The Guide and the girl have escaped.  They’re running free on the ship.  Lock down all halls, all exits.  I’ll be there for a status report in a moment.”

            “Sir,” the comm. responds, “They—They’ve already made their way off of the ship, and they grabbed the other prisoner on the way.”

            Lancelot freezes partway down the hall and grips the wall tightly.  His side hurts.  His pride hurts more. Slamming his fist once more into the comm button, he shouts, “Get people on them!”

            “Sir, yes, sir!”

            “And prep two Wraiths and the Zeus armor.”

            “You’re going in your Gigas, sir?”

            “Yes, I am!”  Lancelot slams the comm off and pushes himself away.  He has to use the wall to steady himself in the hallway, but he keeps moving.  All that matters now is recapturing the three of them, and, truthfully, with the Guide moving on its own, he could easily do without the other two.

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

            The Charon Station crown is a massive bazaar tightly packed into a small, circular platform.  Arthur leads they Lady and Chastity into an ever shifting sea of people, looking odd and out of place anywhere but here on Charon.  Both women are half-naked, one bloodied and bruised, but they move without drawing attention.  That is because the people in Charon all have their own skeletons in the closet, and they are too busy tending to them to care much about what others do or are doing

            The crowd swallows them, dissolving their trail like smoke in the air.  Arthur keeps them moving, wanting first and foremost to put distance between himself and the Achilles crew.  After that, he will find a true refuge and, hopefully, a way off of the planet.  From everything he knows of Hades and Charon, they can be just as dangerous to the three of them if they are unfortunate enough to find themselves stranded there.

            This area of space is considered largely lawless.  Located between the three major governing bodies of the galaxy, it is marked as a no-man’s land where all of the refuse from other worlds find themselves, almost as if by calling.  Few visitors leave their ships, stopping only long enough to refuel and leave. Those that do rarely leave the station for fear of what might happen planet side.  Military forces only make their presence known under dire necessity, and then always with a bullet being their standard form of diplomacy.

            The people of Hades find that negotiation is easier when you start it with bloodshed.

            The three grab clothes on the way, ducking into corners and changing quickly before returning to their mad rush.  The Lady follows Arthur’s every command with robotic indifference, and even than it shows more emotion than Chastity can.  By this point, the young woman looks more like a doll than their Guide companion, save for the bruising.

            Arthur works a slow, wide circle toward the center, keeping his eyes down but always open.  There, the Styx land-to-space elevator will lead them to a momentary reprieve and enough freedom to get their bearings. The Lady is important, he knows, but so is their survival.  His job is to keep them alive long enough to get word out to the military, any military at all.

            They make their way to the elevator—an enormous shaft of gleaming steel at the center of the bazaar—and slip inside.  The interior is well-lit and clean.  There are dozens of people already waiting inside and, through holographic walls the exterior can be seen.  Below, swaths of clouds swirl like dabs of fresh paint.  A dark blue sea can be seen, seemingly still, to one side.  Grey cityscapes consume the surface of the planet surrounding the elevator’s base.

            Arthur finds refuge near a wall and keeps his head down.  The Lady follows close with Chastity dawdling after.  She stares blankly ahead, bruised and gashed but alive.  Arthur takes the time to look her over, to worry over her, but knows better than to approach.  The demons she is facing now, she needs the quiet to work through it on her own.  Lancelot wanted her alive, and he wanted her broken.

            Bodies fill the empty spaces around them.  The three stay close, packed in tight.  The doors close and the lights dim.  Music plays, and instructions, and locks click loudly into place.  The elevator pauses, lurches, and drops, the initial inertia great enough to make their stomachs churn before the dampeners kick in.

            The holographic view shifts.  The horizon swells, the clouds rushing up at them and then swallowing them whole.  Arthur smiles briefly.  They have escaped to the surface, but they are far, far from being safe.

Stargazers Codex 002: "The Guides"

 Codex 002: The Guides\

 

            “I got the job.  I was hired and will be receiving the official briefing in-person before I arrive on-site, but I had already taken the time to do my own research before even accepting the position, of course.  What kind of organization goes head-hunting someone like me for a private position without giving them the details?  It was obvious from the start by the location of the planet alone and the company seeking me out that the work I would be doing would be curious, to say the least.

            Most of what I do know can be inferred by the things I don’t know.  I don’t know exactly what I will be doing there, but I can figure out some of it based on my degree and my work history.  I am one of the foremost experts on computer and coding language in the known universe.  I created Cipher, after all, and have been working both academically and professionally with A.I. templates and in classrooms for a few years now.  My expertise is not only acknowledged but well-earned.

            So, if they’re seeking me out, then it has to do with computer programming language and, most-likely, artificial intelligence.  The fact that they won’t tell me this directly also tells me that the work I will be doing is going to be, at the very least, private and, if I am honest, possibly illegal.  If that is the case, then why would I accept such a position?  Because, it has to do with the Guides.

            The research base they are shipping me out to is on the planet Canaan, or at least that is what it said on the hiring sheet found within their private databases.  Looking around in there, I also know that they are keeping everything hush-hush.  The HR managers don’t know much beyond placement and skillset requirements, and I was at the top of a very short list of people they needed. 

            Needed.  That was the word they used.  They needed me.  That means that they also have something big, and it is big enough to hide it from the other worlds.  They have found something revolutionary in the field of Guide research and, based on my work and research history, I have a few guesses.  What if, just what if, the Guide had machines of their own, with functioning A.I? What if we found an A.I. that was still salvageable?  What could we learn from it?

            Ever since moving into the stars, almost all of our technological achievements have been made by following the examples and blueprints left in the corpses of those who died before us.  We came to populate the stars and found them already populated.  It is in the shadow of the Guide’s vast but fallen empire that we build our own, and it is by looting their corpses that we make any progress in preserving our own livelihoods.

            To date, all we know of Guide technology and culture, however, are the crashed ships we find dotting distant planets.  Each one found so far has been at least as large as one of our Crown Ships, but they are composed in a manner alien to us, largely from alien material, and held together in an alien way.  By dissecting them and studying them, we have been able to build our own spaceships and improve our quality of life in the doing.

            As an example: look at interstellar travel.  Using our Ark ships, we left our home planet and travelled out here.  Since, our fastest ships have been able to travel between star systems within the space of a few weeks, which made interstellar trade difficult.  After building ourselves an Yggdrasil drive after the ones we found in guide ships, however, we are to travel between systems in a matter of days, sometimes hours, depending on proximity.

            Much of the technology we have, however, is foreign to us.  Their full function eludes us, and we’re no closer to deciphering any of them than we are to finding a Guide living.  That said, the existence of an A.I., even one badly damaged, could tell us so much more about our mysterious and missing benefactors.  If nothing else, it could tell us what they thought like and perhaps give us hints into their culture beyond the contoured halls of the Guide ships made known to the public.

            I am an expert in the field of A.I. research and am the first to create a fully functioning Smart A.I. program.  Subsequently, I can only ascertain that their interest in me is built on that.  The only other logical explaination comes from programming.   Having created a Smart A.I. that functions so well as Cipher does (Thanks for editing this, buddy), I have an extensive understanding and familiarity with computer programming and programming code.

            Modern computer programs and the computer O.S.s themselves run on A-O Code.  This code bares a striking resemblance to the existing Guide code that has been found on the crashed ships.  Having looked at it myself, and having successfully translated and replicated the code by hand, I have proven myself capable of whatever task they are assigning me to.  More than that, I have been able to narrow my suspicions.  With my knowledge, they could also benefit from me translating the code, though I cannot imagine that they would only seek me out now to perform the task.

            The Guides suddenly disappeared, leaving nothing but crashed ships in their wake.  No bodies; no bones.  Just a future civilization sailing the stars, building their homes on the dead.  There is so much we still have to learn from them, and I only hope to be a part of the lesson and not a cautionary tale of vainglorious scientists taking their science too far.”

 

…From the journal of Chastity Clarke PhD.

Stargazers: Canaan's Orbit

 Canaan’s Orbit

            Daedalus appears out of dive-space in a flash.  Reality undulates around it in waves of rubbery light that slowly return to fade.  The ship glides smoothly into Canaan’s orbit, matching the planet’s rotation and floating within its gravity.  Captain LeGuin, a tall, broadly built man moving into middle age, stands still, staring out at the planet with an immovable calm.  He has his arms folded behind him, his back straight, and his cap resting perfectly on his head.

            The ship’s pilot looks back at him.  “In orbit, sir, but no responses to our hails.”

            “Anything from our scans?”

            “Facility is dark, sir,” says the navigator.  “But we are picking up a ship in orbit.  It is leaving the atmosphere right now.”

            “Hail the ship,” says Captain LeGuin.  “And follow at a distance.  Get word to Lt. Guinevere.  We will need to be ready, in case things go south.”

            The Comm. Officer salutes and returns to the operations board.

            LeGuin walks forward, running his hand along the rail support.  A raised platform in the center of the helm allows him a view of all operations around him.  From where he stands, he can also see a clear view of Canaan, its surface a gleaming bronze with small, swirling clouds like smeared whip cream.  In the distance, a dark speck floats slowly into and then out of view.

            Daedalus turns, effortlessly, and follows the speck.

            “Sir, they are not responding to our hail,” says the Comm. Officer.  After a prolonged silence, she adds, “I’ve issued them our credentials and requested they halt.”

            “Sir, there are warp distortions,” says the Navigator.  “They are preparing for dive.”

            “I see,” says the captain.  “And how far out are they?”

            The pilot checks her mechanisms and gives a solemn glance back at the captain.  “Too far to catch them before dive, sir.”

            LeGuin frowns.

            “There could be survivors on the surface, sir, and even if we make chase, they’re out of range for our cannons to do any significant damage before they escape,” says the pilot.  She looks ahead again and fixes her hands around the ship’s controls.  “Sir, should we make chase or land?”

            LeGuin rubs his mustache and clears his throat.  “Page all of the armor pilots to the armor bay and call the Lieutenant to the bridge.  We’ll send armors to the surface to check for survivors and make pursuit as far as we can.”

            The bridge’s crew salutes.  “Sir!”  Then, they go about their various tasks.

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

            Chastity and Arthur are left floating in a cold, steel room.  Arthur is bound and was unconscious for a time.  When he wakes, he complains of a headache and sits up stiffly, now held to the ship by manufactured gravity.  They make sullen eye contact and have little time to themselves before the door slides open and their captor steps in.

            He is still wearing his battle gear, though he now wears his goggles up.  His blade is out, unfolded, and he is cleaning it with a rag in one hand.  Two guards follow him in.  They are wearing a form of black military uniforms, and both carry pistols on their hips and have batons out.

            At their entrance, Chastity shuffles back against the wall.  Arthur stands to meet them, but the guards meet him first.  They push him down into a seated position on the bed, and he offers only a glare in return.

            Their captor, who is clearly the leader, surveys them calmly.  Then, he returns his focus to the blade in his hands.  He is smiling beneath his mask, and it can be heard in his voice.  “I see that you’ve collected yourself, girl.  That is good, because we have much to discuss.”

            Chastity grabs her pants tightly in her hands, holding the fabric knotted between her fingers.  She stares over the man, past him.  The guards might not even exist to her, but he does.  Periodically, she looks at him.  Periodically, she looks at the blade in his hand.

            “The robot—a Guide, isn’t it?  We took it, too, but it’s asleep, inert, and we want to know why.  And you,” he tilts his blade toward her, points with the sharpened tip of it, “are the only one who knows how to make it work.”

            “I don’t know,” Chastity says, quickly.  “We ran the code, over and over again, but we never figured out...”

            “I’m sorry, but that doesn’t sound like the right answer.”  He stares her in the eyes.  “Why don’t you come forward and speak a little more clearly?”

            Chastity gasps, chokes, as one of the guards approaches her.  She curls her legs up to her chest, screams as she retreats.  Hearing her, Arthur stands again to intercept for her, but this time he is stopped with a baton to the knee.  He falls to kneeling before being struck again, in the back this time.

            He falls flat onto the floor.  A spark of electricity sounds through the room.  Face-down, the electrified head of the baton is put to his back, between his shoulder blades, and his body jumps in response.  The second guard joins him, pressing his baton only a few inches away.  Both hold them there until Arthur goes quiet.

            Chastity screams and presses hard against the wall. One of the guards flips Arthur over, onto his back, and then drags him away and to another wall.  The other guard grabs Chastity by the leg and drags her toward the doorway.  She cries, ineffectually, on the way.

            Their leader approaches her and kneels beside her.  He cups her chin with his free hand.  His other hand is fitted, tightly, about the hilt of his weapon.  The blade rests on his knee.  “Now, you shush and listen.  What is your name, girl?”

            “Chastity.  Chastity,” she hiccups and sobs, “Clarke.”

            “I see.  And you’re a doctor, Chastity Clarke?”

            She nods.

            “Good.  Then I want you to stop crying and act like one.  And if you don’t, well,” he pauses, thoughtfully, and then chuckles.  “Well, I’ll make sure to give you something to cry about.  I will beat you, and break you, and rape you until you are so empty inside that nothing else will hurt you again.  Do you want that?”

            Holding her breath, afraid to sob, to gasp, she shakes her head.

            “Then,” he nods toward Arthur, “I’ll have him killed in front of you, just so you have no hope at all, just so you understand how little power you really have.”  He keeps holding her, his hand moving around her neck.  She has stopped crying.  “Good job.  Now, I want you to tell me how to turn the Guide on.  I want you to tell me how to control her.  I want you to tell me anything and everything you know about her.

            “I told you, I don’t know how...”

            He strikes her across the face with his open palm.  It hurts, and it shames, and she has to wipe her eyes and look away before he realizes that she is crying again.

            His hand tightens around her throat.  “Answer me.”  He speaks calmly, without rage or regret, without anything at all.

            “I’m trying to answer you,” she says, calmly and with precision.  “We didn’t know anything.  We just...”

            He stands now and kicks her hard in the stomach.  She doubles over, holding her midsection, coughing and crying again.

            “Don’t you dare start crying again,” he screams, and he stabs downward with his sword, the sharpened end of it planting into the cold steel beside her.

            She goes quiet.  They make eye contact.

            “And don’t you dare keep lying.”

            “I-I’m not lying!”  It hurts to speak.  Her stomach feels like a hot ball of lead was dropped into it, and her jaw is swollen and numb.  Everywhere else, the pain wis spreading, moving through her like sickness.  “Please, you have to believe...”

            “I have to?”  He grabs her by the hair throws her across the floor.  She stops against the door.  “I don’t have to do anything but get information from you.  You’re supposed to be a genius, aren’t you?  Then, why can’t you figure this out?”  He pins her to the wall with his foot, pressing hard on her chest and forcing the air from her.  The more he leans on her, the harder it is for her to breathe.  “Now, talk.”

            “I don’t know anything!”

            The man breathes, deeply.  “I see.  Then,” he lifts the blade, looking at it gleaming in the light.  “Then you know what that means, don’t you?”

            She nods, holding back tears.  In the back of her head, she remembers Cipher, crumbling, fading away inside of her.  Soon, she will follow him, too, and even after experiencing his death firsthand, she is still scared.  She knows, in the core of who she is, that she doesn’t want to die.

            He clicks his tongue.  “Never can be too sure, though.”  He lifts the sword, rests it on his shoulder, and he removes his foot from her chest.  “Boys.”

            The guards lift Arthur up and turn him to face Chastity.  He is dazed.  Drools runs from his lips.  Their leader grabs Chastity by the neck and tosses her forward.  She stops just in front of Arthur, staring up at him.

            The man passes her and rests his sword against Arthur’s shoulder, blade down and angled for his neck.  “Tell me, then, what part would you like, first?”

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

            Daedalus skims the atmosphere on its way to intercept Paris.  On the way, as it rides the edge of the atmosphere, it opens its bay.  Three Gigas Armors slide from the bay, two Hunter armors equipped with back-mounted Pegasus Rockets for flight, and the third an experimental armor named Mercury.  The three, Mercury leading, slip away from Daedalus and descend toward the planet’s surface.

            Captain LeGuin watches silently from the bridge.  The ship rattles as it pulls from the atmosphere and back out into open space.  Ahead, he watches the rear of Paris continuing to break away, nearing the departure of the planet’s gravity.

            The pilot fixes Daedalus’ trajectory toward Paris and looks back at LeGuin.  “Sir, I’m sorry to say, but the ship is too far ahead.  Even if we burn hot, we won’t be able to meet them before they leave Canaan’s gravity well.  We might not even be able to follow their trail.”

            LeGuin frowns.  “Can we enter range to fire, at least?”

            “Not in time,” says the navigator.  She punches in a few numbers and meets his gaze.  “We’re too far out of range.  Even if we try to lead them, the projectiles wouldn’t reach them in time.  Laser weaponry would diffuse.”  She checks the screen again and frowns.  “I’m sorry, sir, but nothing would land with enough impact to give them pause.”

            LeGuin rubs his mustache and leans onto the handrail.  He stares at Paris.

            “Sir, we’re getting a transmission from Mercury,” the Comm. Officer interrupts.

            LeGuin sighs and stands straight, joining his hands behind his back.  “I see.  Put her through.”

            “Yes, sir.”

            A brief hiss of static, and then Guinevere’s voice comes through the bridge speakers. “Captain, Guinevere.”

            “Yes, Lieutenant?”

            “Our scans indicate no life remaining in the base.  It’s been scorched.”

            LeGuin’s frown deepens.  “I see.”

            “We need to catch the ship, sir.  The Hunters can handle ground recon.  I should take Mercury to intercept the enemy.”

            “Lieutenant, Mercury isn’t even cleared for battle testing yet.  The armor is too light.  We’re trying to test the balance and...”

            “Sir, the test-model is equipped with two hard-light blades.  Their ship is small; it can’t have more than three armors on board.  I may not be able to capture the ship, but I can easily slow it down long enough for you to get a shot in.”

            “I don’t like this, Lieutenant.”

            “Then you shouldn’t have let me take it out in the first place,” Guinever says.  The crew smiles.  She adds, a second later, “Captain.”

            Hiding his own grin, LeGuin rubs his mustache again, frowning carefully as he does.  “Fine,” he says.  “Lieutenant, I’m trusting you.”

            “Sir.”

            LeGuin looks at the Comm. Officer.  “Put me out to the entire crew,” he says, and once given the go ahead, he speaks.  “Everyone, we’re going to be entering ship-to-ship combat.  Our two Hunter armors are to remain on the surface and search for survivors or information.  Mercury will intercept the enemy ship and prevent them from making dive for as long as possible.  Let’s be safe, and let’s see this done.  Captain LeGuin out.

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

            Lancelot watches her expectantly, his blade resting still on Arthur’s shoulder.  Arthur’s head is down.  Blood pools beneath Arthur, soaking into his pants, clinging to his knees and his boots.  Lancelot reaches down, grabs Arthur by the hair and lifts his face to show Chastity the shallow cuts left there.

            “This is just the beginning,” Lancelot says, venom in his voice.  “Listen and understand the severity of your situation.  Nothing I’ve said is an idle threat.  I will do anything I have to, everything I have to, and I will not regret it.”

            “I-I understand,” Chastity says quickly, her voice choked.  Tears run down her cheeks.

            “Clearly, you do not, because you are still crying.”  He drops Arthur’s head, stomps across the room to grab her by the neck.  “You’re a specialist, brought in to understand that thing in there.  That was your job, your only job, and you’re telling me you know nothing.”  He throws her into the wall and then kneels.  “You’re lying,” he says, pinning her to the door with one hand against her sternum.  “So, listen.  Watch and understand how desperate your situation truly is.”

            Lancelot reaches back and unclips his helmet. He lifts it, smoothly, from his head and lets his long, dark hair cascade down his shoulders and back.  Dropping the helmet there, he turns to Arthur again and paces slowly toward him.

            “Lift him.  Let him see.”

            One guard grips Arthur by the hair and lifts his head.  At first, Arthur winces, but when he sees Lancelot’s face, his brow knits, and his breath catches.  “You.”  His voice is barely a whisper, and he goes limp in the guard’s arms.  “You!”  He wrestles now and ends up pinned to the floor.

            Lancelot smiles, and he turns to face Chastity.  He looks nothing like she expected.  His face is thin, angular, even pretty.  His cheeks are high, his lips thin, and his eyes a vibrant, yellowish green.  He is not scowling anymore, but smiling a feral, hungry smile.  To her, he appears like a wolf on the hunt.  “Now, Jameson, go ahead and tell her who I am.”

            Arthur growls, pushing himself up with his neck.  The guards pin him to the ground again, using their knees to hold him by the back.

            “Tell her what I will do to her.  Tell her that I will get my information one way or another.”

            “She doesn’t know anything,” Arthur shouts, cheek flat against the cold floor.  “Please, Lancelot, she doesn’t know anything!”

            The ship shudders and the guards lose their grip, catching on the walls to steady themselves.  Chastity rolls into a nearby wall.  Lancelot remains stable, widening his stance and turning toward a communication board.  One guard has already made his way there.  The other has Arthur pinned again.

            The bridge comes in, panicked and breathless.  “Sir, we’re under attack.  An unidentified ship is following us, and they’re released an armor, type unknown.”

            “A single armor?  Then raise ships and return fire.”

            “We’re trying, sir, but it’s fast, faster than anything we can follow. It’s impossible to get a lock.”

            “Of course,” Lancelot growls, his face tight.  It sharpens his features, makes him look more lupine.  He trades glances between the guards and the prisoners, and then he hits the wall hard enough to leave the steel warped.  “I’ll be there soon.”  He looks to the guards again.  “You two, outside.  Lock the door.  I will come back to finish this later.”

            Before he leaves, he stops to look at Chastity, sobbing against the wall, and he growls.  “And you better be ready to talk, then, girl, or I will make it hurt in ways you cannot even comprehend.”

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

            Guinvere tilts the controls and Mercury follows suit, spiraling about and flying literal circles around Paris.  Magnified shells hurtled past, meant for where she is and hitting only where she was.  Mercury dips and pivots around, moving in close and touching now beside a turret long enough to slice it open with one of its arm-mounted hardened light blades.

 The Mercury armor is a prototype Gigas Armor designed and manufactured by Haze Industries specifically for the Olympic Republic.  It is meant to be mass produced into a line of high-speed Armors, meant for intercepting enemies quickly and particularly engaging enemy spaceships.

            Right now, the armor sports a thin, sleek frame and a brand new, top of the line, prototype rocket called a Hermes Rocket.  At fifty percent capacity, it can move five times the speed of the most powerful Pegasus Rockets, which are standard on all ships and armors.

            Guinevere pulls Mercury up beside Paris and draws a long, smoldering wound across her starboard hall.  Chunks of armor plating disconnect, floating off into spaces.  Parts of the interior hall are exposed in thin strips.

            She pulls forward and directs herself to the front of Paris, following its shifting trajectory.  So long as she stays in range, she can keep them from performing dive.  Piloting a prototype, she has little in the ways of weaponry and cannot single-handedly stop Paris forever, but she can hope to stall them long enough for Daedalus to move into firing range.

            Right now, Guinevere is running the Mercury at fifty-nine percent its maximum speed.  The thrust forces her hard into her seat.  She was chosen specifically from a long list of candidates to test the model, even before she was forced to undergo rigorous G-force training to endure the speeds the Mercury can reach.

            Tilting down, she moves under enemy fire and makes another swipe, slicing a turret off and rendering it ineffectual.

            Paris opens it docking bay in the stern of the ship and launches two Gigas Armors.  They are smaller units, similar to the Olympic Hunter armors in Guinevere opinion.  This makes them ranged units, though she cannot say for certain.  The armors themselves are different from the traditional Hunter model.

            She closes distance between them quickly and, with one smooth push, drives a hardened light blade through one armor’s helm.  The optics shatter in a glittering display of broken lenses and electric sparks.  A small plume of smoke radiates from the fried sensors.

            The other, she kicks from the ship, dislodging it and letting it float away before she lands inside of the docking bay.  Four other armors sit in the bay, one of which is a unique armor entirely different from anything she recognizes.  It is a large, black armor with a thin, metal protrusion, like a lance, built onto its left arm.

            The second Hunter unit returns, now sporting its own hardened light blade.  It drops and swipes, but she sidesteps and turns to puncture its chest piece, and the pilot, in the process.  This time, when she removes the armor from her blade, it floats back silently.

            Her comms buzz.  “Lieutenant, report.”

            “Sir, I’ve boarded the enemy ship, in the armor bay, and am holding position.”

            “Boarded?  How in the world did you manage that,” LeGuin says.  “They’d be crazy to jump with an enemy armor on board.  Be careful but hold position.”

            “Will do, sir.”

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

            Lancelot enters the bridge and tosses his helmet to his XO.  The entire room sits quietly, waiting in fear for Lancelot to speak.  He stops at an upper platform, where his captain’s chair is, and rests his hands on the guard rail there.  “Status report!”

            The XO jumps forward.  He moves quickly, stopping just short of joining Lancelot on the platform, and he holds the helm firmly under his right arm.  “An unidentified Gigas Armor is attacking us, sir.”

            Lancelot casts him a glare.  “A single armor?”

            The XO swallows thickly.  “Yes, sir.  It’s fast, too fast for our targeting programs.  We sent two armors to deal with it, but...”

            Lancelot sighs heavily and then punches the railing, leaving the shape of his knuckles indented in it.  After another deep breath, he growls.  “But?”

            “The enemy armor has already dealt with them, sir.”

            “What is it using for weapons?  Can you at least tell me that?”

            “Arm-mounted hardened-light blades, sir.  Two of them.”

            Lancelot’s face tightens.  “And that’s all?”

            The XO nods.

            “One armor, and without proper weaponry, and it’s causing you this much trouble?”  He stands tall now and stares down his XO.  “Anything else to tell me?”

            “I-It has taken the hangar, s-sir.  We—We can’t make dive...”

            “Why didn’t you start with that?!”

            “Sir, I’m sorry...”

            Lancelot yanks the helm from his hands and shoves the XO away, into a nearby console.  “Keep the yggdrasil engine primed.  We’ll be diving soon.”

            “But, sir...”

            “But nothing, officer.”  Lancelot bunches his hair quickly and jerks his helm on.  He looks back at the officer, at the entire bridge, and pauses there.  “Keep the hangar doors open.  I will handle this myself.”  He draws his blade, clicking it open and letting it unfold with a series of snaps.  “And when I am done there, we will have a conversation with proper battle protocol.”

            With that, Lancelot leaves the room and hurries toward the hangar.

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

            Guinevere uses her light blades to sever walkways and dismantle armors.  Debris floats around her in open space.

            The bay door opens and a man wearing an airtight flight suit and helmet enters.  He carries, over his shoulder, a missile launcher.  When he enters the bay, he levels the missile launcher and fires. 

            Guinevere lifts Merucry’s left arm and activates her harden-light shield.  A small panel of light, hexagonal in shape, appears before the armor, projected by a spinning dome-like projector.  The rocket erupts on impact, filling the room with smoke and flame.  Through the haze, she can see the lone figure still there.  He produces a metal shaft, which unfolds into a long, thin blade, and he charges.

            “You’re really going to fight me hand-to-hand while I’m in a Gigas?  You’re insane!”  Disabling the shield, Guinevere flips her light-blades on and lunges forward.  Her enemy sidesteps smoothly, dragging his blade across the Mercury’s arm and leaving a shallow incision just deep enough to severe the wiring inside. The light-blade flickers and fades.

            Mercury was designed for mobility above all else.  Attacks are meant to be evaded, not stopped, which keeps the armor thin.  Trapped in the armor bay like she is, however, the Mercury’s speed doesn’t serve Guinevere at all.  She tries to back up but finds herself at the back of the bay.

            Somehow, this man is faster than her and more agile.  He uses the armor to his advantage, attacking from angles to narrow for her to block, leaving cuts along the armor’s legs and torso.  Once behind her, the man does a flip off of the wall and lands on the armor’s back, stabbing into the cockpit.

            The blade enters just beside her, narrowly missing her head.  It parts the monitor in front of her, leaving it to spark and smoke.  She reaches back for him with the armor’s right arm but finds its functions minimal.  Checking the damage report shows a black screen—nothing.

            The man leaps from again.  She can see him standing in the armor bay, holding tightly to a material pallet that is bolted to the door.  Her sensors wail as the gravity dies and, through a broken screen, she watches his body drift up.  The armor bay opens, expelling her in the process.  She watches, through her broken screens, as the Mercury drifts, tipping and turning and, in stolen, brief glances, the enemy ship, Paris, disappearing into a distortion in space.

            Guinevere screams.  A monitor beside her sets off a warning.  The cockpit is leaking air.  After a few calming breaths, she initiates her comms.  “Daedalus, this is Lt. Guinevere.  The target has escaped.  I repeat, the target has escaped.”

            There is a pause.  Then, the operator says.  “Understood, Lt.  What is your status?”

            “Stranded with cockpit damage and exposure.  Requesting an immediate pick up.”  She reaches for her keyboard and finds it rent.  “Internal damage is severe.  I cannot activate a beacon.  Requesting a search.”

            “Understood, Lt., and granted.  The Captain is curious as to your status, Lt.”

            “Pissed off.”

            Another pause.  “I will pass that along.  See you soon.”

            The comm dies.  Guinevere rests back, breathing slowly to preserve her air.  She keeps her eyes closed and feels the armor, spinning, drifting, in the black.

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

            Lancelot rests on his back, staring up at the closed armor bay ceiling.  He is more winded than injured, but the landing did leave an ache in his back, and the decompression strained the tender muscles in his left shoulder.  Two soldiers enter the bay, leading a physician with them.

            Lancelot stands and shoves past them.  “Return to your posts.  You’re not needed.”

            He marches from his room and removes his helm on the way.  By the time he reaches the bridge he has his helmet tucked under his arm.  Upon entering, he tosses the helm to his XO, who catches it clumsily, and Lancelot barks, “Report!”

            “A-All turrets have been rendered inert,” his XO says quickly, following Lancelot around the bridge.  He watches Lancelot checking meters on his own and continues stammering, “We’ve lost three armors four armors altogether.  The ships thrusters have suffered minor damage.  Two rockets are operating at seventy-five percent, and the armor plating on both starboard and port sides have suffered medium lacerations, though the hull is mostly intact.”

            Lancelot leans over one of the operators.  The bridge has its visor down, eliminating visual information on the outside world while they are in sub-space dive.  “Are there any docks on the way?”

            The XO looks toward the navigator, who sits up straight.  “We can hit Charon Station, sir,” she says quickly. “It is neutral territory.”

            “One of the few places,” Lancelot says.  He stands straight and rubs his chin.  “It will slow us down, but we need to at least get the turrets functioning again.”  He nods. “Leave dive and divert toward Charon.  Send a report to Troy updating them of our status.  We can rest there at least long enough to let the trail dissipate.  I doubt they’ll give chase, but if they should, it’s better to lead them there than home.”

            “Yes, sir.”

            “Sir,” the XO says, earning a glare from Lancelot.  The XO flinches.  “W-What of the prisoners?”

            Lancelot grows a thin, vicious smile.  It is almost wolf-like, the way it shows his teeth.  “For now, we let them sit.  We’ll get what we want from them, and if not, then there’s always the airlock.  We’ve got the Guide, and that’s all that really matters.”