A Spice Hall Holds No Fairy Tales
Nov 15, 2019 9:52:44 GMT -5
LordofSyn, ntsheep, and 6 more like this
Post by fortune918 on Nov 15, 2019 9:52:44 GMT -5
"...so he lunges at me, but I dodge his blade, and with all that momentum my counter swing just cut him in half!" Briggs, the big wing commando in the group, burst into laughter and his companions joined in. His booming voice echoed through the mostly empty spice hall. They felt like the only ones here on this backwater planet. The captain had set down for some repairs and fuel. After complaining quite loudly to the dockmaster about the outrageous prices, he authorized some shore leave to boost morale.
Briggs was loud. Obnoxious. Talented yes – some might even say elite – but overconfident. Basically your typical wing commando. Relaxing in the spice hall, they were enjoying some tales told by the crew dogs of all the horrific accidents that had befallen the crew in the past year. Explosive decompression of a cargo bay. A mishap involving an arc plasma cutter. The usual stuff.
Of course someone like Briggs couldn't just sit back and listen to mundane stories about ship ops. I mean, they were basically bragging about all the ways they had failed at their jobs, he thought! Always being someone to “one up” the others, Briggs had launched into his favorite story about a boarding party he had led against a Warhammer a few years ago. The spice hall may have been empty, but it was lively with their voices.
Until she walked in.
All heads turned and everyone just sort of shut up at once. Onboard the ship she had gone unnoticed by Briggs who had just joined the crew. The man was so self absorbed it wasn't hard to imagine how. Mira didn't tell tales. Mira didn't carouse with the other crew. Mira didn't even need to speak most of the time. The long scars across her face, more beneath her exo-suit, told her story. And it was a story of blood and terror and the nightmarish alien race that lurks the void. With a rifle slung across her back and long obsidian claws – trophies – adorning the belt around her waist, there was no mistaking her profession.
Briggs smirked. He had had a bit too much spice beer and saw what he thought was an easy way to score some points with his new crew mates. “Hey there!” he called out. “So you're a big bad Xeno-hunter, huh? Why don't you tell us a story?”
Felix, one of the squirrely navigators, had just walked in. Upon hearing that opening salvo from Briggs, he – as navigators are apt to do – assessed the situation, spun on his heel and promptly skipped out of there.
Mira didn't smile. Her gaze barely even acknowledged the remark. But she couldn't let it pass. A collective breath was held in the spice hall as she regarded the oafish wing commando with a critical eye that could pierce one's soul.
“You want to hear a story?” she purred. Her voice was low, but it was somehow worse than if she had yelled. So much worse. One of the crew dogs shifted uncomfortably in his chair, and stared at a mark on the wall like it was the most interesting thing in the world. Anything was better than to look at those scars. Cybernetic implants had restored her eye, but long deep marks still marred the portrait of an otherwise terrifyingly beautiful face. It was like looking at the event horizon of a black hole from far too close a distance. Wondrous. Beautiful. Terrible. Not a single person made a sound.
“We set down on a wild zone in Farfallen Rim looking for Iridlaentine,” she began. “The captain, my last captain, heard rumors the place was rich with it. Stashed away decades ago by smugglers, then lost to the ages. We found a cavern. Looked like a good place for a cache. About 50 meters down, a ground quake hits. The cavern collapses behind us. No way out. Only forward, into the darkness. We had our visuals, but there was this background radiation that messed with our optics. Scanners were useless too. Probably what made it such a good place for a stash. Cant really blame Cap's reasoning.
“Didn't take long to figure out we weren't alone. I heard 'em first o' course. Little skittering sound, like a cat on a steel plate that can't retract its claws. Only bigger. Faster. I tell Cap and he nods. We ready our weapons and keep going.
“But nothing. No attacks. We walk for two hours and still nothing. Till we come to this underground river. With the rush of water we couldn't hear 'em come. The don't attack though, not fully. They jus' snatch up one of the Swordsmen. Big and slow he was, like this one,” she gestured to Briggs who had grown quite uncomfortable all of a sudden.
“We found him about 100 meters ahead. Body all torn up, guts spilled onto the ground. Parts missing. After that, they would come for us. One at a time. Maybe once in an hour. Maybe in 10 minutes. Didn't know when they would hit. Didn't even know how many there were. In the dark with barely any optics, with the noise of the rushing water, we couldn't do anything. They wouldn't openly attack us. Just ambush.
“One at a time. Every time. They were hunting us.”
Briggs' mouth had gone dry and he realized he was sweating. A lot. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand.
“We followed the river cuz it was all we could do,” she continued. “Cap was an explorer, and he figured the river had to lead outside eventually. We just didn't know if we would still be around when it did.
“It was always the same. One of us gets taken, turns up ahead of us in pieces. Left there like a warning. We'd fire into the darkness after 'em, but were never sure if we were hitting anything. After a few hours of this, the squad was getting pretty thin. We finally see the opening to the outside, and they hit us. HARD.” Mira emphasized that last word as she spoke, and gave a cold stare around the room with that piercing gaze. No one said a word.
“I emptied my clip into two of them, dropped 'em immediately. Plasma burning holes in the carapace. The fire fight lights up the cavern, and I can see more coming out of the cracks. Men are screamin' and firing. Ammo starts getting low. The big ones – hunters – come out as I slam in my last clip. Captain is shouting orders when a claw swipe rips out his chest, and everyone just breaks for the exit. I drop the last one I can see by the muzzle flash, and then it goes dark again. Clip was empty, so I ran. We all ran.”
There was a pause, and finally Briggs spoke. “How did you outrun the skitters?” he asked in a shaky voice.
“Didn't have to. Just outran the rest of the squad.”
Briggs was loud. Obnoxious. Talented yes – some might even say elite – but overconfident. Basically your typical wing commando. Relaxing in the spice hall, they were enjoying some tales told by the crew dogs of all the horrific accidents that had befallen the crew in the past year. Explosive decompression of a cargo bay. A mishap involving an arc plasma cutter. The usual stuff.
Of course someone like Briggs couldn't just sit back and listen to mundane stories about ship ops. I mean, they were basically bragging about all the ways they had failed at their jobs, he thought! Always being someone to “one up” the others, Briggs had launched into his favorite story about a boarding party he had led against a Warhammer a few years ago. The spice hall may have been empty, but it was lively with their voices.
Until she walked in.
All heads turned and everyone just sort of shut up at once. Onboard the ship she had gone unnoticed by Briggs who had just joined the crew. The man was so self absorbed it wasn't hard to imagine how. Mira didn't tell tales. Mira didn't carouse with the other crew. Mira didn't even need to speak most of the time. The long scars across her face, more beneath her exo-suit, told her story. And it was a story of blood and terror and the nightmarish alien race that lurks the void. With a rifle slung across her back and long obsidian claws – trophies – adorning the belt around her waist, there was no mistaking her profession.
Briggs smirked. He had had a bit too much spice beer and saw what he thought was an easy way to score some points with his new crew mates. “Hey there!” he called out. “So you're a big bad Xeno-hunter, huh? Why don't you tell us a story?”
Felix, one of the squirrely navigators, had just walked in. Upon hearing that opening salvo from Briggs, he – as navigators are apt to do – assessed the situation, spun on his heel and promptly skipped out of there.
Mira didn't smile. Her gaze barely even acknowledged the remark. But she couldn't let it pass. A collective breath was held in the spice hall as she regarded the oafish wing commando with a critical eye that could pierce one's soul.
“You want to hear a story?” she purred. Her voice was low, but it was somehow worse than if she had yelled. So much worse. One of the crew dogs shifted uncomfortably in his chair, and stared at a mark on the wall like it was the most interesting thing in the world. Anything was better than to look at those scars. Cybernetic implants had restored her eye, but long deep marks still marred the portrait of an otherwise terrifyingly beautiful face. It was like looking at the event horizon of a black hole from far too close a distance. Wondrous. Beautiful. Terrible. Not a single person made a sound.
“We set down on a wild zone in Farfallen Rim looking for Iridlaentine,” she began. “The captain, my last captain, heard rumors the place was rich with it. Stashed away decades ago by smugglers, then lost to the ages. We found a cavern. Looked like a good place for a cache. About 50 meters down, a ground quake hits. The cavern collapses behind us. No way out. Only forward, into the darkness. We had our visuals, but there was this background radiation that messed with our optics. Scanners were useless too. Probably what made it such a good place for a stash. Cant really blame Cap's reasoning.
“Didn't take long to figure out we weren't alone. I heard 'em first o' course. Little skittering sound, like a cat on a steel plate that can't retract its claws. Only bigger. Faster. I tell Cap and he nods. We ready our weapons and keep going.
“But nothing. No attacks. We walk for two hours and still nothing. Till we come to this underground river. With the rush of water we couldn't hear 'em come. The don't attack though, not fully. They jus' snatch up one of the Swordsmen. Big and slow he was, like this one,” she gestured to Briggs who had grown quite uncomfortable all of a sudden.
“We found him about 100 meters ahead. Body all torn up, guts spilled onto the ground. Parts missing. After that, they would come for us. One at a time. Maybe once in an hour. Maybe in 10 minutes. Didn't know when they would hit. Didn't even know how many there were. In the dark with barely any optics, with the noise of the rushing water, we couldn't do anything. They wouldn't openly attack us. Just ambush.
“One at a time. Every time. They were hunting us.”
Briggs' mouth had gone dry and he realized he was sweating. A lot. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand.
“We followed the river cuz it was all we could do,” she continued. “Cap was an explorer, and he figured the river had to lead outside eventually. We just didn't know if we would still be around when it did.
“It was always the same. One of us gets taken, turns up ahead of us in pieces. Left there like a warning. We'd fire into the darkness after 'em, but were never sure if we were hitting anything. After a few hours of this, the squad was getting pretty thin. We finally see the opening to the outside, and they hit us. HARD.” Mira emphasized that last word as she spoke, and gave a cold stare around the room with that piercing gaze. No one said a word.
“I emptied my clip into two of them, dropped 'em immediately. Plasma burning holes in the carapace. The fire fight lights up the cavern, and I can see more coming out of the cracks. Men are screamin' and firing. Ammo starts getting low. The big ones – hunters – come out as I slam in my last clip. Captain is shouting orders when a claw swipe rips out his chest, and everyone just breaks for the exit. I drop the last one I can see by the muzzle flash, and then it goes dark again. Clip was empty, so I ran. We all ran.”
There was a pause, and finally Briggs spoke. “How did you outrun the skitters?” he asked in a shaky voice.
“Didn't have to. Just outran the rest of the squad.”
