Time to give him the wake-up call. No time for delicacy, I'm afraid. To drive the message home, I projected an image of the contaminated growth-beds in the Torgaljin research facility outside.
"Enemy seeds. Here, in this place. Now." I said grimly. "They sleep now, but will grow soon."
"Not possible!" Keeper of Memories protested fiercely. "This place is last hope for all life! Burn all seeds of sleeping Enemy, or all is lost!"
"I see this. We have a sickness in Lost Ones shell, but cannot put an end to it. We need your help!"
"Your deep life-stuff is not same as other life in this place. You will all die." Keeper said flatly.
That last bit was a right puzzler. Your deep life-stuff is not same... Could Keeper mean that human DNA is too different to be cured of the Kharaa infection, at least by the same method that the Precursors used to cure themselves? Of course it's bloody-well different! All life here is based on a triple-helix DNA molecule manipulated by the presiding Father of Tides, gorram it!
"Tell this one how your people destroyed the Enemy inside, and this one will burn the Enemy. Make all life clean in this place as it was before. Destroy all Enemy seeds."
"Other deep life-stuff we make burns the seeds from within. Where we swim, no Enemy can live."
Bingo. The creatures here secrete something that attacks the basic Kharaa micro-organism before it is able to establish an Infestation. Take away that initial foothold, and you've basically defeated them. Makes perfect sense. If the viral infection reaches that critical point unchecked, the first colonists to die will decompose to become Infestation nodes. Within 24 hours or less, that initial Kharaa colony will be pumping out its first batch of Skulks. It wouldn't take long before Kaori-san no-shima became a slaughterhouse, crawling with rapidly-evolving Kharaa. It sounds as callous as hell, but I'd light off a nuke in there long before it got to that point. And I'd be in there, with my finger on the button.
"Show what shape this deep life-stuff takes. Show this one how it burns Enemy." I insisted.
Keeper of Memories readily complied, projecting an image of a Sea Emperor literally hosing down a Kharaa-infested patch of seabed. A swirling torrent of luminescent green fluid poured from its mouth like dragon's breath, surging over the corrupted and decaying life and adhering to every surface that it touched. Its effect was almost instantaneous. I could see the infestation shrivelling and dying within minutes of contact, leaving only an inert grey scum that dispersed slowly in the current. If I could lay hands on a millilitre or so of that stuff and have IANTO reverse-engineer it...
"Now show this one Father of Tides life-stuff small. Show it very small, smaller than smallest sand." I prompted eagerly. Fingers crossed. At this point, I fervently hope that the Precursors have developed some form of molecular imaging technology. Keeper of Memories appeared to hesitate briefly, as if unsure of what my request actually meant. His first attempt at interpreting it left a wee bit to be desired. An image of a solitary drop of Kryptonite-green goo rotated in the air.
Close, but no cigar, Jimmy.
"Good. Now show smaller than the smallest grain of sand."
Eureka. It's an organic molecule. Hopefully, either JUNO or IANTO will know exactly what that molecule is.
Occasionally, mankind bumps into an alien species with a similar modus operandi. That's when it all hits the fan. We have our shiny terraforming equipment, all very clean, scientific and user-friendly. They have spore colonies, pulsating gestation cysts and mutation chambers, held together by a slimy sentient biofilm that oozes menacingly all over the landscape.
Nice stealth Zerg reference.
(Yeah, I'm a couple weeks behind and catching up...)
Even though I had a fair idea of how the Precursors defeated the Kharaa at a microscopic level, I had to ask Keeper of Memories how they were able to combat the larger organisms. Not such a daft question, as it turned out. Considering most of the known Kharaa life forms appear to be specifically adapted to life on dry land, Kharaa wouldn't have posed any significant threat to the Precursors until they were able to evolve into specialised aquatic or amphibious forms. Obviously, this would have taken some time. The Precursors were well aware of this, and reacted accordingly.
"Enemy changed to new shapes, swimming down to consume all life in this place. We see this change coming in Enemy, make new shapes for ourselves. They make new life. We make new life. Long Talon, Far Jumper and Sky Fire Swimmer hunt down new Enemy that swims. Make many small and sharp-toothed shapes to watch in dark places. Strike fast, many teeth. Make Small Thunder and Life Drinker to hide in small dark places, watch and wait. Enemy come. Enemy not see. Enemy die."
This explains a great deal. Guess it wasn't a paranoid delusion after all.
I've always suspected that the sea life on Manannán was out to get me. In fact, it's more a case of mistaken identity, at least as far as most of its creatures are concerned. They're genetically hard-wired to be blindly aggressive toward any strange life forms, and that definitely includes Yours Truly.
I shudder to think of my survival chances if I hadn't gone out of my way to make contact with the Warpers and Father of Tides. For one thing, Warpers are one of the most potent hunter-killer units fielded in this planet's war against the Kharaa. It doesn't take a great stretch of the imagination to see why. Even Skyrays and Reefbacks played major roles in this conflict, apparently. As aerial reconnaissance drones and practically indestructible heavy assault troopers, according to Keeper. Faced with this level of opposition, I almost felt sorry for the Kharaa. Almost, but not quite.
Only one final detail remains before I can take my leave of Keeper of Memories. Sky Fire. He mentioned a 'sky-fire swimmer' earlier, so I can safely assume that he was referring to Amp-Eels. However, I'm guessing that this allusion to lightning also extends to the Precursor planetary defence system. Keeper was understandably reluctant to reveal its location, and even less forthcoming about its exact nature.
"Sky-fire is not for you to see. Not yet. Nothing Unclean can come to this place and nothing Unclean will go from this place. Enemy seeds must not be carried to other worlds. Life is sacred. Ask Father of Tides. Speak with Sky Watcher to know the shape and workings of Sky-fire."
Well, that was delightfully cryptic. We must do this more often.
After bidding Keeper of Memories a fond farewell, I headed for the airlock. The time is now 03:45, so I should be back at Kaori-san no-shima in roughly 40 minutes. Once through the first airlock, I made one final visual sweep of the laboratory as I passed through, then moved on to the next airlock for another jolly decontamination cycle. Still no luck on that comm-link signal, though. There won't be any signal until I'm in the Lava Castle itself. I finally cleared the hidden access corridor, et voila!
Five solid bars of RF signal strength. Splendid!
I urgently need to take a massive data dump. 'scuse me...
+++ PROXIMITY ALERT. LIFE FORMS DETECTED. CAUTION ADVISED. +++
Life drinker is obviously The Bleeder, but Small Thunder... Biter maybe?
I can imagine the blighter is probably Deep Small Thunder.
Maybe have a chapter that categorizes the roles that the creatures of Manannan had against the Kharaa (After Selkirk escapes the mysterious threat).
'Small Thunder' is the Crashfish. 'Life Drinker' is indeed the Bleeder. 'Long Talon' is the Reaper. 'Far Jumper' is the Warper. 'Sky Fire Swimmer' is the Amp Eel. 'Shadow Walker' is the Crabsquid. I've tried to make the alt-names as descriptive as possible, so it's not really necessary to devote a whole chapter to re-defining the planet's wildlife. These creatures still behave in exactly the same manner as they do in the game.
I found myself staring down the muzzles of six PPSh-41 submachine guns. World War II vintage. Devastating rate of fire, very effective at close quarters... And extremely easy to fabricate, it seems.
"Hello, Robot." Polyakov grinned nastily. "Did you find what you were looking for in there?"
I sighed theatrically. "Let me guess. This was all part of your cunning plan to lure me here alone. Well, that makes me quite the dumb bunny, doesn't it?"
"Da. You couldn't resist another chance to play the mighty bogatyr. Now that you have kindly started building our rescue ship, you are no longer useful to me. Your crew will finish it for us, and we will leave. If I am feeling generous, I will let them stay here to put flowers on your grave."
I chuckled quietly, shaking my head.
"Sounds like you've dreamed this caper up while sitting on the privy, Chum. If you want my advice, stick to reading manga. There's no way my mates will let this pass unanswered. For a start, they will go full MARTIAL on your sorry carcasses. You'd best re-acquaint yourself with this charming place right now, because this is where you'll end up. You each get three free rides on the Valkyrie Field, and that's it. I wasn't kidding."
This news didn't sit well with Polyakov's team. There's definitely some frowny faces in this room. I'm guessing that he didn't tell them about my little wrinkle in their resurrection arrangements. Time to apply a wee bit more pressure.
"Nice shooters, by the way. I never figured you as a creative sort, Armin Mikhailovitch. Congratulations. You've genuinely surprised me." I nodded approvingly.
Polyakov shifted his stance uneasily, glancing warily around the atrium.
"You're stalling, Selkirk. Enough talk." He deftly cocked the burp-gun, raised its muzzle and fired.
"ALECTO, lights!" I yelled.
The atrium went pitch-black instantly. I dived for cover behind one of the stone benches, narrowly avoiding a faceful of 7.62 calibre copper-jacketed titanium. I quickly shucked the sampling unit backpack and shoved it under the bench, out of harm's way. Thermal imaging kicked in, revealing the bluish forms of Polyakov and his men still standing dumbfounded where I'd left them. Their dive suits were still sopping wet and cold, almost blending in with the thermal background, although their exposed faces glowed white-hot in the IR spectrum. Easy targets.
No more pissing around. I'll make it as quick and painless as each one deserves. Polyakov first.
The security team were still bunched together, although they at least had sufficient presence of mind to form a defensive circle facing outwards. Polyakov fired a short, scything burst blindly into the darkness, deliberately aiming low. Target identified and marked. His men followed suit, sending an aimless volley of rounds into nothing in particular. Ricochets whined. Spent casings tinkled onto the deck, then silence reigned. Their gun barrels now glowed a warm orange. I moved quietly, circling the group and marked each one of his deputies, adding their positions to my tactical display.
Why couldn't Polyakov ask ALECTO to turn the light back on?
He could have. the real question is, would ALECTO have complied? im guessing Selkirk gave specific procedure locks on anything Polyakov requested since he never trusted him from the get go ..... dunno
"Armin Mikhailovitch Polyakov, you and your confederates stand accused of armed insurrection, sabotage and biological warfare. You have heard the charges laid against you. How do you plead?"
Polyakov guffawed loudly in the darkness.
"Hah! I cannot believe this Selkirk! He thinks he is ofitser politsii now! - Who gives you the right to interfere in our colony, meneer? You have no authority here."
"That's where you're wrong, Armin." I said calmly. "My authority comes directly from your colony's governing committee. You have knowingly infected the colonists with a lethal alien pathogen. If you surrender immediately, you have my word of honour that you and your men will not be harmed. This is your final warning."
"You always talk too much, Selkirk." Polyakov snarled. "Any real man would have shot us all by now. Now you try to kill us with your endless words. You are pathetic, Robot."
I could see the security team tensing up. Polyakov had whispered a command to activate their suit floodlights on his word, hoping to catch me unawares. It was a fairly simple matter to calculate the firing arcs of each man, then quietly put myself out of the immediate firing line. Polyakov was using the sound of my voice to fix my position, so I kept moving to throw their projected aim points off.
"What's the plan, Armin? I conjure I'm about to die, so you might as well tell me." I said mockingly.
"I don't think so, Selkirk." Polyakov smirked. "You are stalling again. Do you think I'm stupid?"
I shrugged. "Yes, actually. I've just searched through every known Terran language lexicon, and there isn't a single word that adequately describes your own unique level of stupidity. Tell me one thing though... Did you bother to immunise your men before releasing the Kharaa pathogen?"
Polyakov snorted derisively. "Naturally. I found Baat Torgal's data on the cure for the Carar stored on a Mempak passed on to me by my father, along with terminal access codes and fabrication blueprints for old military weapons. Remember, you were not the only resourceful man here."
"Okay. You've immunised your men with a century-old therapeutic compound. Sounds fine to me."
The security team appeared to be completely unsettled by this news. The formation's alert posture suddenly faltered, and I could see a couple of them unconsciously rubbing their upper arms. No doubt Polyakov had merely slapped an (expired) dermal patch on each of these goons, loudly and proudly pronouncing them totally immune to the Kharaa organism. That one casual statement of mine just blew a massive hole in their misplaced confidence in Polyakov.
All pieces are in their final positions. Now for the end game.
By the time Polyakov regained control of his team, I had circled around them to reach an optimum firing position. All six were clearly visible in infrared, targeted and locked. My flechette rifle has a full clip of fifty rounds; more than enough ammunition to finish the job.
I sighted on Polyakov's chest and fired. A tight cluster of 20 Plasteel razor darts obliterated his heart. With a choked gurgle, he pitched backward and fell lifeless on the deck. Five more shots fired in quick succession.
Although I've been on the receiving end of the Valkyrie Field's tender mercies, I wasn't entirely certain what would happen next. At a guess, I'd say that their bodies would be converted into a matter-stream by the Field, and then reassembled at a designated resurrection point. In this case, that would be the Lava Castle's medical bay. Polyakov and his team would be in no shape to offer any further resistance, at least for a couple of hours. The whole 'dying' experience tends to be fairly taxing on the human nervous system. To make this process slightly more tolerable, the Valkyrie Field induces a brief comatose state in its patients, permitting all bodily functions to re-integrate fully before regaining consciousness. Having been there myself, I consider this phase a rare kindness.
My communicator beeped. DIGBY.
"Selkirk here. Go ahead, mate."
"Apologies for my late arrival, Captain. JUNO relayed the pursuit order as soon as Esperanza left its moorings. Are you all right, Sir?"
"I'm fine. Polyakov and his Flying Circus, not so much... Now mostly dead." I said wearily.
"Regrettable, but absolutely necessary. What are your orders, Sir?"
"I'll need you to make those dirty scunners more comfortable in the Med Bay. Full body restraints, set up life support IVs and prep them for extended stasis. I've still got a few more locations that need to be sampled for Kharaa contamination. I'll meet you there in approximately 30 minutes."
"Very good, Sir." DIGBY replied.
As all neurochemical functions ceased in the bodies, each corpse simply dissociated like a reclaimed base construction element. No dazzling rays of light, no celestial choir. A brief shimmer formed around them, and they were gone. Efficient, if nothing else.
I have also been efficient. Altogether too much so. There is no sense of triumph to be found here. Even though I could justify this action in entirely neutral terms, there is no denying the fact that I have just killed six people. Even though they will be revived, that fact still remains. I can't even draw solace from rationalising it as self-defence against superior numbers, mainly because they never stood a chance. More red on my balance sheet. I'm going to have to live with this.
Polyakov's eyelids fluttered open. I stood over the gurney, regarding his naked form impassively. Even without a microscanner, I saw the first signs of the Kharaa organism spreading throughout his body. The Valkyrie Field had completely failed to detect and eradicate the virus. I feared this would happen, since I was considering the possibility of using the Field as a desperate final measure if all other treatments failed. Albeit unwittingly, at least Polyakov has provided us with valuable data.
He chuckled weakly.
"You win this round in our game, Robot. Next time will be different."
Smiling grimly, I leaned over and whispered. "No, it won't. You're all dead men. Welcome to Hell."
Wow, he's dense. How many more humiliations and power displays must Polyakov endure before he realises he's hopelessly outwitted and outgunned? Mentioning the weapon fabrication templates and access codes was also a bad idea, Selkirk can probably find and delete them now.
I wonder if Polyakov will get turned inside-out by the Valyrie Field on his "last life" and end up mercy killed.
Bugzapper, just registered on here just to say how large this all is. I read your first story and thought you cant Beat this but now this second story is lieterally amazing. Your Level of creatitivity and writings is above all . Thanks and big up unu yuself boss
I walked over to Polyakov's bedside IV infusion pump and patted it fondly.
"See this? As soon as I've finished our wee chinwag here, I'm putting you and your hooligan mates out for the duration. I've grown tired of constantly watching my back, and having you lot skulking about loses its amusement value after a very short while. Rather than suffer your idiotic antics any longer, I have taken you out of the equation permanently. You are finished."
Polyakov strained against his bonds, his face crimson with fury. "You don't scare me anymore, Selkirk. I promise you, I will repay this insult a hundred times over. You and your shlyukha will be first, followed by your robot friends..."
I held up my hand, silencing his imminent rant. Heard it all before, anyway.
"No, mate. You'll be lucky to ever see daylight again. Once we have isolated the specific antigen to use against the Kharaa infection, you will all be immunised against it. We'll also have to come up with a way of destroying this bug at its source. That's where you and your men come in. You'll all be supplied with appropriate L4 biohazard gear, microscanners and decontamination equipment. Every square millimetre of this installation needs to be sterilised, and you lot are going to be the cleaners. I wouldn't get any ideas about refusing, either. That immunization only protects you from the Kharaa micro-organism. If you and your mates do decide to sit on your fat bahookies instead, you'll be up to your fetid armpits in ravening Skulks and Gorges before you know it. So, a little incentive already exists. To make absolutely certain, we've taken away your means to make more Pa-Pa-Shas. Okay?"
Polyakov glared at me sullenly.
"So, we are all expendable now. You will let those Kharaa monsters do your dirty work for you."
I sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of my nose in the manner of a supremely irritated teacher.
"Armin, you and your men are eminently expendable. You've walked straight into this job. Frankly, you should be grateful that I didn't arrange it so that you'd resurrect in the middle of a Reaper pack. Quality of mercy not being strained, and all that. It's not all bad news, though."
"What do you mean, Selkirk?"
"Well, at least you weren't responsible for the blight that hit the colony's hydroponics bays. That happened long before I came on the scene. I've just seen a preliminary analysis of the samples I obtained from there, and it wasn't a Kharaa organism after all. Turns out that it was a recessive genetic error in some of the Terran food crops re-engineered by Baat Torgal. Finally made itself known, I guess. That's the trouble with cybernetic skill implants... Heavy on the theoretical know-how, but bugger-all as far as practical experience is concerned. Money can't buy genuine talent."
Polyakov sneered. "You would have blamed me for that as well. Anything will do to make the committee's case against me stick, eh?"
"Not so. However, if it turned out that you were responsible for sabotaging the colony's food supply, I'd currently be straddling your chest and choking the life out of your worthless body. You might want to display a little gratitude for my respect of due legal process. The evidence was definite. Anyway, that just about wraps up all I have to say on this matter. Goodnight, you living crap-stain."
@Rainstorm Not just in my youth. My last serious D&D session was well over a decade ago. Never did the Leviathan campaigns, though. Also quite partial to GURPS, Morrow Project, Shadowrun and Car Wars. Currently revisiting Might & Magic VI, just for old time's sake.
@Rainstorm Not just in my youth. My last serious D&D session was well over a decade ago. Never did the Leviathan campaigns, though. Also quite partial to GURPS, Morrow Project, Shadowrun and Car Wars. Currently revisiting Might & Magic VI, just for old time's sake.
Comments
"Enemy seeds. Here, in this place. Now." I said grimly. "They sleep now, but will grow soon."
"Not possible!" Keeper of Memories protested fiercely. "This place is last hope for all life! Burn all seeds of sleeping Enemy, or all is lost!"
"I see this. We have a sickness in Lost Ones shell, but cannot put an end to it. We need your help!"
"Your deep life-stuff is not same as other life in this place. You will all die." Keeper said flatly.
That last bit was a right puzzler. Your deep life-stuff is not same... Could Keeper mean that human DNA is too different to be cured of the Kharaa infection, at least by the same method that the Precursors used to cure themselves? Of course it's bloody-well different! All life here is based on a triple-helix DNA molecule manipulated by the presiding Father of Tides, gorram it!
"Tell this one how your people destroyed the Enemy inside, and this one will burn the Enemy. Make all life clean in this place as it was before. Destroy all Enemy seeds."
"Other deep life-stuff we make burns the seeds from within. Where we swim, no Enemy can live."
Bingo. The creatures here secrete something that attacks the basic Kharaa micro-organism before it is able to establish an Infestation. Take away that initial foothold, and you've basically defeated them. Makes perfect sense. If the viral infection reaches that critical point unchecked, the first colonists to die will decompose to become Infestation nodes. Within 24 hours or less, that initial Kharaa colony will be pumping out its first batch of Skulks. It wouldn't take long before Kaori-san no-shima became a slaughterhouse, crawling with rapidly-evolving Kharaa. It sounds as callous as hell, but I'd light off a nuke in there long before it got to that point. And I'd be in there, with my finger on the button.
"Show what shape this deep life-stuff takes. Show this one how it burns Enemy." I insisted.
Keeper of Memories readily complied, projecting an image of a Sea Emperor literally hosing down a Kharaa-infested patch of seabed. A swirling torrent of luminescent green fluid poured from its mouth like dragon's breath, surging over the corrupted and decaying life and adhering to every surface that it touched. Its effect was almost instantaneous. I could see the infestation shrivelling and dying within minutes of contact, leaving only an inert grey scum that dispersed slowly in the current. If I could lay hands on a millilitre or so of that stuff and have IANTO reverse-engineer it...
"Now show this one Father of Tides life-stuff small. Show it very small, smaller than smallest sand." I prompted eagerly. Fingers crossed. At this point, I fervently hope that the Precursors have developed some form of molecular imaging technology. Keeper of Memories appeared to hesitate briefly, as if unsure of what my request actually meant. His first attempt at interpreting it left a wee bit to be desired. An image of a solitary drop of Kryptonite-green goo rotated in the air.
Close, but no cigar, Jimmy.
"Good. Now show smaller than the smallest grain of sand."
Eureka. It's an organic molecule. Hopefully, either JUNO or IANTO will know exactly what that molecule is.
I most certainly don't.
Nice stealth Zerg reference.
(Yeah, I'm a couple weeks behind and catching up...)
"Enemy changed to new shapes, swimming down to consume all life in this place. We see this change coming in Enemy, make new shapes for ourselves. They make new life. We make new life. Long Talon, Far Jumper and Sky Fire Swimmer hunt down new Enemy that swims. Make many small and sharp-toothed shapes to watch in dark places. Strike fast, many teeth. Make Small Thunder and Life Drinker to hide in small dark places, watch and wait. Enemy come. Enemy not see. Enemy die."
This explains a great deal. Guess it wasn't a paranoid delusion after all.
I've always suspected that the sea life on Manannán was out to get me. In fact, it's more a case of mistaken identity, at least as far as most of its creatures are concerned. They're genetically hard-wired to be blindly aggressive toward any strange life forms, and that definitely includes Yours Truly.
I shudder to think of my survival chances if I hadn't gone out of my way to make contact with the Warpers and Father of Tides. For one thing, Warpers are one of the most potent hunter-killer units fielded in this planet's war against the Kharaa. It doesn't take a great stretch of the imagination to see why. Even Skyrays and Reefbacks played major roles in this conflict, apparently. As aerial reconnaissance drones and practically indestructible heavy assault troopers, according to Keeper. Faced with this level of opposition, I almost felt sorry for the Kharaa. Almost, but not quite.
Only one final detail remains before I can take my leave of Keeper of Memories. Sky Fire. He mentioned a 'sky-fire swimmer' earlier, so I can safely assume that he was referring to Amp-Eels. However, I'm guessing that this allusion to lightning also extends to the Precursor planetary defence system. Keeper was understandably reluctant to reveal its location, and even less forthcoming about its exact nature.
"Sky-fire is not for you to see. Not yet. Nothing Unclean can come to this place and nothing Unclean will go from this place. Enemy seeds must not be carried to other worlds. Life is sacred. Ask Father of Tides. Speak with Sky Watcher to know the shape and workings of Sky-fire."
Well, that was delightfully cryptic. We must do this more often.
After bidding Keeper of Memories a fond farewell, I headed for the airlock. The time is now 03:45, so I should be back at Kaori-san no-shima in roughly 40 minutes. Once through the first airlock, I made one final visual sweep of the laboratory as I passed through, then moved on to the next airlock for another jolly decontamination cycle. Still no luck on that comm-link signal, though. There won't be any signal until I'm in the Lava Castle itself. I finally cleared the hidden access corridor, et voila!
Five solid bars of RF signal strength. Splendid!
I urgently need to take a massive data dump. 'scuse me...
+++ PROXIMITY ALERT. LIFE FORMS DETECTED. CAUTION ADVISED. +++
What the Hell?
I just hope you can get away in time.
I can imagine the blighter is probably Deep Small Thunder.
Maybe have a chapter that categorizes the roles that the creatures of Manannan had against the Kharaa (After Selkirk escapes the mysterious threat).
'Small Thunder' is the Crashfish. 'Life Drinker' is indeed the Bleeder. 'Long Talon' is the Reaper. 'Far Jumper' is the Warper. 'Sky Fire Swimmer' is the Amp Eel. 'Shadow Walker' is the Crabsquid. I've tried to make the alt-names as descriptive as possible, so it's not really necessary to devote a whole chapter to re-defining the planet's wildlife. These creatures still behave in exactly the same manner as they do in the game.
I found myself staring down the muzzles of six PPSh-41 submachine guns. World War II vintage. Devastating rate of fire, very effective at close quarters... And extremely easy to fabricate, it seems.
"Hello, Robot." Polyakov grinned nastily. "Did you find what you were looking for in there?"
I sighed theatrically. "Let me guess. This was all part of your cunning plan to lure me here alone. Well, that makes me quite the dumb bunny, doesn't it?"
"Da. You couldn't resist another chance to play the mighty bogatyr. Now that you have kindly started building our rescue ship, you are no longer useful to me. Your crew will finish it for us, and we will leave. If I am feeling generous, I will let them stay here to put flowers on your grave."
I chuckled quietly, shaking my head.
"Sounds like you've dreamed this caper up while sitting on the privy, Chum. If you want my advice, stick to reading manga. There's no way my mates will let this pass unanswered. For a start, they will go full MARTIAL on your sorry carcasses. You'd best re-acquaint yourself with this charming place right now, because this is where you'll end up. You each get three free rides on the Valkyrie Field, and that's it. I wasn't kidding."
This news didn't sit well with Polyakov's team. There's definitely some frowny faces in this room. I'm guessing that he didn't tell them about my little wrinkle in their resurrection arrangements. Time to apply a wee bit more pressure.
"Nice shooters, by the way. I never figured you as a creative sort, Armin Mikhailovitch. Congratulations. You've genuinely surprised me." I nodded approvingly.
Polyakov shifted his stance uneasily, glancing warily around the atrium.
"You're stalling, Selkirk. Enough talk." He deftly cocked the burp-gun, raised its muzzle and fired.
"ALECTO, lights!" I yelled.
The atrium went pitch-black instantly. I dived for cover behind one of the stone benches, narrowly avoiding a faceful of 7.62 calibre copper-jacketed titanium. I quickly shucked the sampling unit backpack and shoved it under the bench, out of harm's way. Thermal imaging kicked in, revealing the bluish forms of Polyakov and his men still standing dumbfounded where I'd left them. Their dive suits were still sopping wet and cold, almost blending in with the thermal background, although their exposed faces glowed white-hot in the IR spectrum. Easy targets.
No more pissing around. I'll make it as quick and painless as each one deserves. Polyakov first.
The security team were still bunched together, although they at least had sufficient presence of mind to form a defensive circle facing outwards. Polyakov fired a short, scything burst blindly into the darkness, deliberately aiming low. Target identified and marked. His men followed suit, sending an aimless volley of rounds into nothing in particular. Ricochets whined. Spent casings tinkled onto the deck, then silence reigned. Their gun barrels now glowed a warm orange. I moved quietly, circling the group and marked each one of his deputies, adding their positions to my tactical display.
Because he's an idiot?
He could have. the real question is, would ALECTO have complied? im guessing Selkirk gave specific procedure locks on anything Polyakov requested since he never trusted him from the get go ..... dunno
All of the above. Plus a bit more.
Polyakov guffawed loudly in the darkness.
"Hah! I cannot believe this Selkirk! He thinks he is ofitser politsii now! - Who gives you the right to interfere in our colony, meneer? You have no authority here."
"That's where you're wrong, Armin." I said calmly. "My authority comes directly from your colony's governing committee. You have knowingly infected the colonists with a lethal alien pathogen. If you surrender immediately, you have my word of honour that you and your men will not be harmed. This is your final warning."
"You always talk too much, Selkirk." Polyakov snarled. "Any real man would have shot us all by now. Now you try to kill us with your endless words. You are pathetic, Robot."
I could see the security team tensing up. Polyakov had whispered a command to activate their suit floodlights on his word, hoping to catch me unawares. It was a fairly simple matter to calculate the firing arcs of each man, then quietly put myself out of the immediate firing line. Polyakov was using the sound of my voice to fix my position, so I kept moving to throw their projected aim points off.
"What's the plan, Armin? I conjure I'm about to die, so you might as well tell me." I said mockingly.
"I don't think so, Selkirk." Polyakov smirked. "You are stalling again. Do you think I'm stupid?"
I shrugged. "Yes, actually. I've just searched through every known Terran language lexicon, and there isn't a single word that adequately describes your own unique level of stupidity. Tell me one thing though... Did you bother to immunise your men before releasing the Kharaa pathogen?"
Polyakov snorted derisively. "Naturally. I found Baat Torgal's data on the cure for the Carar stored on a Mempak passed on to me by my father, along with terminal access codes and fabrication blueprints for old military weapons. Remember, you were not the only resourceful man here."
"Okay. You've immunised your men with a century-old therapeutic compound. Sounds fine to me."
The security team appeared to be completely unsettled by this news. The formation's alert posture suddenly faltered, and I could see a couple of them unconsciously rubbing their upper arms. No doubt Polyakov had merely slapped an (expired) dermal patch on each of these goons, loudly and proudly pronouncing them totally immune to the Kharaa organism. That one casual statement of mine just blew a massive hole in their misplaced confidence in Polyakov.
All pieces are in their final positions. Now for the end game.
By the time Polyakov regained control of his team, I had circled around them to reach an optimum firing position. All six were clearly visible in infrared, targeted and locked. My flechette rifle has a full clip of fifty rounds; more than enough ammunition to finish the job.
I sighted on Polyakov's chest and fired. A tight cluster of 20 Plasteel razor darts obliterated his heart. With a choked gurgle, he pitched backward and fell lifeless on the deck. Five more shots fired in quick succession.
Five more corpses.
My communicator beeped. DIGBY.
"Selkirk here. Go ahead, mate."
"Apologies for my late arrival, Captain. JUNO relayed the pursuit order as soon as Esperanza left its moorings. Are you all right, Sir?"
"I'm fine. Polyakov and his Flying Circus, not so much... Now mostly dead." I said wearily.
"Regrettable, but absolutely necessary. What are your orders, Sir?"
"I'll need you to make those dirty scunners more comfortable in the Med Bay. Full body restraints, set up life support IVs and prep them for extended stasis. I've still got a few more locations that need to be sampled for Kharaa contamination. I'll meet you there in approximately 30 minutes."
"Very good, Sir." DIGBY replied.
As all neurochemical functions ceased in the bodies, each corpse simply dissociated like a reclaimed base construction element. No dazzling rays of light, no celestial choir. A brief shimmer formed around them, and they were gone. Efficient, if nothing else.
I have also been efficient. Altogether too much so. There is no sense of triumph to be found here. Even though I could justify this action in entirely neutral terms, there is no denying the fact that I have just killed six people. Even though they will be revived, that fact still remains. I can't even draw solace from rationalising it as self-defence against superior numbers, mainly because they never stood a chance. More red on my balance sheet. I'm going to have to live with this.
Polyakov's eyelids fluttered open. I stood over the gurney, regarding his naked form impassively. Even without a microscanner, I saw the first signs of the Kharaa organism spreading throughout his body. The Valkyrie Field had completely failed to detect and eradicate the virus. I feared this would happen, since I was considering the possibility of using the Field as a desperate final measure if all other treatments failed. Albeit unwittingly, at least Polyakov has provided us with valuable data.
He chuckled weakly.
"You win this round in our game, Robot. Next time will be different."
Smiling grimly, I leaned over and whispered. "No, it won't. You're all dead men. Welcome to Hell."
right there > .
I wonder if Polyakov will get turned inside-out by the Valyrie Field on his "last life" and end up mercy killed.
Glad you're enjoying the stories. More to come!
"See this? As soon as I've finished our wee chinwag here, I'm putting you and your hooligan mates out for the duration. I've grown tired of constantly watching my back, and having you lot skulking about loses its amusement value after a very short while. Rather than suffer your idiotic antics any longer, I have taken you out of the equation permanently. You are finished."
Polyakov strained against his bonds, his face crimson with fury. "You don't scare me anymore, Selkirk. I promise you, I will repay this insult a hundred times over. You and your shlyukha will be first, followed by your robot friends..."
I held up my hand, silencing his imminent rant. Heard it all before, anyway.
"No, mate. You'll be lucky to ever see daylight again. Once we have isolated the specific antigen to use against the Kharaa infection, you will all be immunised against it. We'll also have to come up with a way of destroying this bug at its source. That's where you and your men come in. You'll all be supplied with appropriate L4 biohazard gear, microscanners and decontamination equipment. Every square millimetre of this installation needs to be sterilised, and you lot are going to be the cleaners. I wouldn't get any ideas about refusing, either. That immunization only protects you from the Kharaa micro-organism. If you and your mates do decide to sit on your fat bahookies instead, you'll be up to your fetid armpits in ravening Skulks and Gorges before you know it. So, a little incentive already exists. To make absolutely certain, we've taken away your means to make more Pa-Pa-Shas. Okay?"
Polyakov glared at me sullenly.
"So, we are all expendable now. You will let those Kharaa monsters do your dirty work for you."
I sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of my nose in the manner of a supremely irritated teacher.
"Armin, you and your men are eminently expendable. You've walked straight into this job. Frankly, you should be grateful that I didn't arrange it so that you'd resurrect in the middle of a Reaper pack. Quality of mercy not being strained, and all that. It's not all bad news, though."
"What do you mean, Selkirk?"
"Well, at least you weren't responsible for the blight that hit the colony's hydroponics bays. That happened long before I came on the scene. I've just seen a preliminary analysis of the samples I obtained from there, and it wasn't a Kharaa organism after all. Turns out that it was a recessive genetic error in some of the Terran food crops re-engineered by Baat Torgal. Finally made itself known, I guess. That's the trouble with cybernetic skill implants... Heavy on the theoretical know-how, but bugger-all as far as practical experience is concerned. Money can't buy genuine talent."
Polyakov sneered. "You would have blamed me for that as well. Anything will do to make the committee's case against me stick, eh?"
"Not so. However, if it turned out that you were responsible for sabotaging the colony's food supply, I'd currently be straddling your chest and choking the life out of your worthless body. You might want to display a little gratitude for my respect of due legal process. The evidence was definite. Anyway, that just about wraps up all I have to say on this matter. Goodnight, you living crap-stain."
Selkirk is a class IV savage.
what would a class five be ???
also i think personally he's a class 5
'Old School' point of reference.
oh oh, i see @Bugzapper played Dungeons & Dragons Leviathans in his youth!
Yep. Wouldn't have it any other way.
A class V would basically be the same thing, but would've also had something about his mother in there...