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The Spiteful (Trapped.6)
🕑 Added 2024-11-03 10:15:55 +0000 UTCGravity drives- faster than light travel- involved more steps than just going from A to B. Technically speaking, you could just simply distort and invert space, giving the universe an aneurysm and a wedgie at the same time, effectively teleporting from one spot to another… But there’s an important problem that the smartest men in the world needed to figure out the hard way.
The universe is in motion. Everything is in motion, constantly, in all directions at all sorts of crazy speeds. Faster than you’d believe. Faster than the mind can even really conceive, on the interstellar scale.
Moving your location in space does not actually change your velocity. If you’re sitting on a ‘3 o’clock’ position in an ideal orbit around a star system, clockwise, and you jump to the 9 o’clock position means you’re still moving at the same velocity. Same speed. The only difference is your location- and in that position, you’re suddenly moving counter-clockwise, orbiting the system in the opposite direction. Which is fine, usually. But if you go from 3-to-12? Or 9-to-6? Then you’re suddenly shooting straight toward the star at orbital speeds.
Now imagine using this with entire star systems, sometimes rotating or angled in completely different directions. You not only have to adjust your velocity to match your destination system, but to make sure you wouldn’t arrive on a crash-course. And that wasn’t just a few seconds of slamming on the pedal- that's hours of acceleration or deceleration.
Of course, there’s a trick to adjusting your velocity, even with the relatively low-powered thrusters that most starships had nowadays, and it’s pretty simple: Supercruise.
Supercruise is a different method of using a grav drive entirely. By folding space the right way, to resonate with the thrusters and angle of propulsion, you could amplify the amount of thrust you could generate by magnitudes. It meant you could accelerate to blistering speeds
People didn’t really know this. Most people just let the computers take care of piloting. There were dozens of intricate calculations going on nearly-constantly, every time you jumped. You’d supercruise out into the heliosphere, a star system’s ‘safe pocket’ that generally had the least clutter. From there you could adjust your velocity, and then jump to your destination- usually the heliosphere of your target system.
So when I came out of jump, the ship rattling and bucking around me as it adjusted to suddenly being burst into existence in a spot filled with what was once Vecteran atmosphere.
Here’s where the genius was.
I’d gone from 3-to-9, so to speak. From orbital speeds to ‘get the fuck away from this planet’ speeds. While the moon’s gravity was slowing me down, the angle was perfect- precisely aimed toward Anselon- the enormous gas giant that Vectera orbited. And Anselon was pulling me forward. In fact, it took up the majority of my view, and I was getting closer to it, speeding up.
A gravity boost was exactly the sort of thing I needed.
“Alright, shields up. We’ll hide in the magnetosphere, orbit it for a little bit, and then prep for supercruise when they’ve lost us.” I said. Now that I had some distance, they couldn’t really find me- not unless I used my drive for anything except artificial gravity and shielding.
“There appears to be a problem, Mister Gannon.” Vasco said.
“What?” I snapped.
“I am receiving transmissions from nearby moons. There is an interceptor prepared to receive you, should you reach the outer edge of the system.”
“... Fuck.” I said. “I bet we can’t race an interceptor?”
“It is not likely. This will jeopardize our mission.”
Interceptors were pirate tech, mostly because it wasn’t very legal to pilot a ship without a crew. They were basically powerful thrusters, a bunch of sensors, and a grav drive duct-taped together. All it would have to do is catch up with us, and use its grav drive to blast us with a constant spray of graviton fluctuations. Not only would we not be able to supercruise, we couldn’t jump either. Or do anything other than try and shoot down the interceptor. Which gives all the other pirates in the system time to show up.
So, not only was I fired, talked onto this stupid ship to go to Constellation, this Indigo Protocol meant he wouldn’t let me go anywhere but straight-
“We will need to deal with the Interceptor. A recent scan indicates it is currently in orbit of the planet Kreet. According to received transmissions, the local Crimson Fleet captain currently holds the controls to the Interceptor. It should be simple to disable it once you retrieve the transmitter.”
“... Retrieve it? Like, how?”
“Theft or combat are the recommended methods. I do not believe Captain Barrett’s method is viable for your personality, Mister Gannon.”
“So. Land the ship in full view of a bunch of space pirates, where their fucking captain is, kill all of them, and pick up the controller from his corpse.” I drawled.
“A succinct summary.” Vasco says. The robot clearly doesn’t get sarcasm. “This is a viable alteration to our current plan. I am allowing this temporary alteration to the Indigo Protocol to allow for landing on the planet Kreet.”
I blinked.
Right. I knew a way out of this. I knew exactly what to do.
“Right,” I sighed, and pushed the seat away from the controls. “Set the autopilot to Kreet. Wherever this captain is.”
“Understood.” He says, as I storm off.
=====
My throat was dry. The suit- a miner’s rig, spruced up a bit- was rated for full vacuum, and I’d spent the last few minutes welding a bit of armor together over my 02 pack, using some scraps from the cargo bay meant for repairs to the Frontier.
The artifact was wedged between my pack and the small of my back. The edges jutted out over my shoulder and under my hip, but it was better than nothing. I wasn’t going to let go of it, especially not if my plan was going to work.
“We are setting down.” Vasco chimed over the radio. “I am receiving no transmissions that are not encrypted.”
“Can’t crack it? What kind of AI are you?”
“I am not sentient.” Vasco says. “Merely well-programmed, according to Captain Barrett.”
“Fine. Alright. You stay aboard.” I said. Then, I took a breath. This was just a robot, so it probably couldn’t tell when I was lying, but I still hated it.
“Understood.” Vasco said.
“Now, I’m going to need you to shut the ship down. All unessential functions deactivated. That also includes you. You’ll need to be in hibernation, or temporarily disabled for this to work.”
“... I do not understand.”
“We turned off our transmitter, and I fiddled with our shield profile so their sensors think we’re not the Frontier.” I said. “They’ll wonder what ship I have, and I’m going to lie. Tell them my entire system died in a solar flare. Then I’ll get close, to the captain, take the controls, and make a break.”
“That does sound quite like something Captain Barrett would do.” Vasco says. “Understood. In order to reactivate me, you must press the button on my upper left shoulder.”
“The one with the green indicator?”
“Yes.”
Then, Vasco went silent. His lights went off. My rig’s sensors didn’t detect anything from him, anymore, and the ship’s controls immediately locked themselves due to an ‘Indigo Protocol’. He’d deactivated entirely.
I couldn’t believe that worked.
I climbed down the ladder to the landing bay, and looked out at this supposed research facility that the Crimson Fleet had taken over.
Half gravity. I hopped on my heels a few times, and made my way closer.
The wildlife scattered as I approached, the mining laser mounted on my back. Half-gravity on this moon meant it wouldn’t be too heavy for me to cart around.
I cued my microphone, and opened my radio to an open broadcast.
“Hello?” I called. “Hey, Crimson Fleet? Pirates. I’m the guy who just landed outside your base.”
This wasn’t exactly surrendering. It wasn’t me tricking them, like I’d told Vasco, though.
I don’t give a shit about this ship. Not about the robot. Not about Barrett, or Constellation, or the asshole CEO who runs them.
I was going to dump this shit in the captain’s hands.
“I’ve stolen the Frontier. Yeah, the Constellation’s Frontier. and I want to make a trade.”
There was no response. Carefully, I stepped closer to the old facility. The lights were still on. I walked toward it, and pressed one of the buttons for the airlock.
The pressure didn’t change. There wasn’t a normal pressurizastion procedure- must be because the inside was the same atmosphere as the outside. A bad sign, if the pirates couldn’t even repair the facility’s atmospherics.
Then the other door opened- my blood went cold. Acid bile filled my gut.
I'd found the pirates.
At least, their bodies. Their blood.
Scraps of their weapons and armor, their decals buried in the gore.
Standing in the pile, a tall, lanky man. He was wearing a spacesuit that I’d never seen before. I knew, just by looking at it, that it wasn’t… It wasn’t manmade. It wasn’t anything I’d seen before. Smooth, alien alloys. Purple, iridescent. The mask was completely opaque. I couldn’t see his face, but there was a clear symbol across his face- an arch, or like an upside-down V.
His right arm was cybernetic. It looked like a Type-A robot’s arm, modified heavily, too long for his toros. It was covered in glass vials full of motes of purple liquid, tubes piped in to support something built into the assembly’s palm.
“Well, well, well.” The figure radioed back. He sounded young, almost like a punk teen, higher-pitched than I’d expected. “I thought I was here a little early. But these butt-munchers were being annoying, so I figured I’d do your job for you. You wanted a trade, right?”
Alien knowledge- from the artifact on my back- seemed to buzz at me. This man was something called a Starborn.
He was The Hunter.
“Give me the artifact, and I’ll let you live,” He lied.
I took a step back. I started pounding on the airlock button, confirming the emergency protocols. The outer door started to open, but much, much too slowly.
“... Yeah, figured you’d run.” He sighed. “They always do.”
His hand unfolded. Purple lights extended from the machinery in his palm. Those same traceries of light formed a wireframe- and then that wireframe became a long, brutal sword. Too large for a normal human skeleton to bear, but he held it easily.
In my panic, I grabbed my mining laser. It stuck to my suit for a moment, catching onto something.
He tilted his head and scoffed. Like his armor was too tough for a mining laser to deal with... Which it probably was.
So I threw the laser at his head.
He caught it, impaling it with his sword. He held it up for a moment.
“Really? You weren’t even gonna shoot me?”
I ran through the open airlock, keying my helmet- and the shockwave blew me off my feet.
I’d assumed the pirates would take it from me, so I set the energy cell to detonate on command. Just in case.
I sailed through the air, at half gravity, as whizzing pieces of shrapnel pinged off my makeshift armor. I hit the dirt outside the facility, the gravel scraping against my faceplate. But I didn’t let that stop me. I scrambled back to my feet, and turned back-
“Oh, that hurt.” The Hunter snarled. A crack ran along the visor, oxygen hissing out of it. His armor was dented, arm damaged. He stepped out of the facility, running his cybernetic hand over his face. That same purple light, and his mask fused itself back together, and he scooped up the sword. “I’m gonna rip you a new asshole!”
