"My ship?" Roy repeated the question.
The Wurgus made the confirming gesture again. "Yes, Masterun. The All Patriarch has gifted you a Pod ship. You can't be a Patriarch without a Podship." Roy sighed. "You Wurgus value honesty right?" "Yes, above all." "We humans like to be asked about things like that. This should go both ways you know. I want to become a marine and I don't need a ship or want to make a career out of becoming a surrogate Wurgus. I think you guys are very nice and go out of your way to accommodate me, but I like to be asked." Roy gestured around. "No one asked me if I want to be here." "Do you resent this? You are an integral part of this development." "Resend? No of course not, but it feels so much bigger than me and out of proportion and there is the fact, I just started Marine training. I mean I did not even complete my second week." Roy made a crooked smile, quite certain the facial expression completely lost to the Wurgus. "How long do you think I am going to be here?" "I can't tell you that for certain. Our All Patriarch made you Patriarch, you are the very first non-Wurgus ever so honored. The Wurgus think that you should learn a little about Wurgus society." "That could mean I am here for years." "We will do our best to do this as fast as possible."
--""—
Sam and Martha had successfully boarded the Silver Swan before the liner was leaving Harper's Junction for its next leg, which was Spindlar, the system named after the Union member civilization that originated from its third planet. The Spindlar were one of the very early Union members, and thus about as well developed and connected as all of the core space members. Like all of these systems, it was connected to the Space Train network which offered the fastest cross Union space transportation. Both of their intended destinations were connected to the Space Train Network. Neither Martha nor Sam decided to book passage on the A Deck. Especially not for just a short trip of just two days. C Deck accommodations were just fine. A Porter-bot had shown them to their accommodations and while they were taking temporary possession of their cabins, a soft and melodic gong sound struck three times and was followed by an announcement that the Silver Swan had suspended all dirt-side activities and would soon be space-born. The announcement came with the usual push for the onboard restaurants, shops, and recreational options. Casino gambling was suspended until the ship reached Quasi Space. There was of course an announcement regarding the ETA to the next port of call. Which was a few hours less than two standard days and since the Universal Time Reform of 4880, time was no longer directly linked to Old Terran Time, an hour lasted 100 minutes and a day 20 hours. Martha had heard that only the Union Navy was still insisting on the age-old sixty minutes per hour and twenty-four hours a day scheme. Computronics of course had no problem keeping the time in both systems, even though it was a mystery to Martha why the fleet insisted on such antiquated things. To Sam, who had his cabin right across the corridor of hers, she expressed her desire to freshen up, call her friend and then retire early. The recent developments had stirred her emotionally more than she realized. Sam smiled at her and his face signaled to understand. Again she kissed the dark-skinned giant on the cheek. Even this fleeting kiss turned out to be a little more than the first one, and for some reason, she managed to siphon some of the man's unfathomable strength and unapologetic masculine strength along with it.
As she closed the door to her cabin, she wondered how different her life might have been if she met Sam instead of Paul. She sighed as she dismissed that fantasy. Back then she was not interested in Marines or anything associated with the military for that matter. She pushed the thoughts regarding Sam aside and first tried to call Sister, just to make sure her most unusual friend was still safe. Martha used the last contact she had. "System, connect me with Tria Cinolone. She should be on my recent contact list." The image presented was that of a uniformed female. "Good Fifth hour, Dr.Masters, just the person we wanted to talk to." Unlike the call, she received from the Ranger, this time she was well aware that Sister had done something very bad, perhaps even committed murder. Her rational mind urged her right away to be truthful and assist the authorities in any way she could, this was after all part of her Union Citizen commitment. But another side in her remembered the time they had spent together; the promises they made and she of course remembered that Sister called her for help. Martha was not simple-minded and instantly recognized the uniform of the woman on the other side as one worn by the Army and not Union Police. "Who are you? You are not Tria."
"We are investigating…" The uniformed woman was interrupted in mid-sentence as a new image replaced hers. A similar uniformed man appeared and if Martha recalled her Union school lessons correctly, the rank insignia on the man's shoulder applets displayed those of a General. "I am sorry to interrupt, but when I heard famous Dr. Masters herself is calling, I simply had to take over the conversation." "I fail to see why I am wasting my time with Army officers. You are not Tria either." "Uh, Tria is no longer able to answer Com requests. May I ask what you two have discussed earlier? You and she had a previous com, right?" "That is none of your business, Sir."
Martha disconnected and was thinking hard. Something else was going on. This was not Union Police, but that Sister did something to Tria was quite certain to her. Martha nibbled on her fingernails, staring towards the door, wondering about Sam. He was the best help she could ask for, but he was a Union soldier and a law-abiding citizen. He would have to turn Sister in, that was his duty. Just as she was contemplating, her Com Unit blinked with a missed call. This time it was from public GalNet terminal on Earth itself, it was a Charge accept call. But the connection was not made even after she accepted the charges. The system told her, that the other user was no longer there. A recorded message confirmed it was from Sister, but lasted only a few seconds. "Martha, help." The system was able to tell her, that the call came from a place called Paris, Earth.
--""—
General Warwick scolded the Lieutenant. "Don't jeopardize our situation! It will take all cloud I have and then some to keep the idiots of the Union Police of the trail. It can't be helped that they are involved." "Yes, Sir." Just then a Union Police detective stepped away from the smashed and destroyed heap of twisted metal and broken Dura-Plast that one was an integral part of an ancient Saresii machine. A machine the General put great hopes in, ever since he had learned of its existence from his NAVINT contact. A man now accused of killing his own life-partner in the most gruesome fashion. The Union Police investigator was still slowly shaking his head. "I simply don't understand all this." "I told you, detective. Since the missing woman was Army, you could leave the whole investigation to Army CID." "You said so before General Wamprick, but this is not exactly up to me or you, Sir. You see, this lab facility was not Army, but leased by a private research company from the Union Navy. Now somehow this entire facility disappeared over twenty years ago from the regular City plans, I am sure by pure accident or some easily explainable glitch. All this appears quite coincidental, would it not be for the fact that our missing Dr. Ruhtkamph listed as a Tubeworm researcher, shares all academic credentials with Dr. Ruhtkamph, a renowned neurologist."
"Detective, does that not tell you that you might have stumbled upon a military sensitive operation here, and it would be a wise thing to let professionals take care of this situation without making this a public affair? By the way and I am General Warwick, not Wamprick." "Ah, I am always glad you military types explain things to us simple civilians like that. I mean who would not let the Army take over, fewer reports and headaches?" "Yes indeed." "You see, General Wardick, this is the Union and we go by the law and not personal favors. Unless my supervisor presents me with a written order signed by the Justice Council I am on the case. We found blood, bits, and pieces of flesh and gore but no bodies. We have a very disturbing partial recording of a home security system and two missing citizens. That brings me to my next question, why are you here?"
--""—
Sister managed to leave Ceres, hidden in a freight crate. The robotic handling system loading vaccu-packed Tube-Worms and Astro Shrooms from an automated conveyor system was truly antiquated, mostly because of the low priority intersystem freight logistics with virtually no security. While every fiber in her body screamed to kill everyone within the range of her inhumanly fine senses, she was very aware of the fact that she could not keep leaving a trail of death and mayhem without being discovered by forces that could oppose her successfully. While she was cramped in the small box and the conveyor system pushed her box inside the intersystem tram car, not in the least curious why there still was a box leftover, she had time to think.
She had successfully thrashed and hopefully destroyed the physical copy of the Re-Animator, for some reason she could not explain she felt it was important that this technology would not be controlled by the wrong hands. Perhaps to re-unite with the rightful owners or users od that technology was the purpose of her existence. Sister knew that the secrets of that system were somehow hard-coded into her core, where it could be retrieved and recreated easily.
She was disturbed by the fact that the machine had not restored all her abilities. She could not trust her memories, mostly because she did not know which of them were hers, associated to her true, yet to be revealed or discovered purpose and which were not; however the machine or at least the version that had been built in that sub-surface laboratory was unable to graft whatever new identity she was absorbed more permanently. As soon as she had absorbed the matter and mind of a victim it has begun to deteriorate as if rejected and pushed away from her own core. Most of her mind was driven to accomplish something fundamental to her existence, she had no moral objections to use everything and everyone in her disposal. The strong voice in her included Martha and Geha. They were only tools to be used to advance her true agenda of which she currently knew nothing about, or at least could not remember. However, there was a small voice that felt more familiar than all the others, who wanted to rebel against the others. No, not to use Martha and Geha as tools, but reunite with her friends.
A fool you are! The strong voice accused her. They fear you and will destroy you if they can. Something deep inside the forbidden Experiment was weeping in utter sadness because she could never escape her destiny. Either to be destroyed or to destroy everything in her wake to accomplish whatever she was driven to accomplish. The automated in-system Space-Tram system, a much smaller version of the same technology that enabled the Space Trains to bridge vast distances in a very short time, transferred a load of cargo boxes from Ceres to an equally automated distribution system. Here robots and sorting conveyors decided what cargo box went into what standard container which subsequently ended up in the Cargo Bay of a space-born freighter to be shipped anywhere within Union space to whatever customer ordered Ceres raised Tube-Worms or Astro-Shrooms.
Sister had left the cargo box behind, luckily the receiving sorting robot lacked the curiosity to ask why Ceres transferred an empty box. For about an hour she had been hiding in the noisy warehouse, which was quite busy but void of any sentient beings. Neither the fast-moving conveyors nor the scan codes gave her any clue to where the individual boxes were sent. Uncertain as to what to do next she observed a human technician enter. While the sorting robot lacked the curiosity to ask why there was an empty box with different weight and product code than expected. It did raise enough curiosity in the supervising system to call a live technician.
The recipients of the ordered Ceres Tube Worm -Fresh 88-455666-366, a community of Snofuur would be very surprised to find the remains of Cargo Technician Steve Leclerc instead, but that was not to be very soon, as that particular cargo-box was about to begin a journey of over 2.6 million Lightyears, clear across the Bridge and deep into the Andromeda Galaxy. Without the actual machine, Sister could not absorb most of the physical aspects of Steve, but the small portable device she had retrieved of a hidden compartment, the human owners of the old system didn't even know existed. Steve, was not to be missed until the end of his shift and perhaps even a little longer. Using Steve's memories she managed to take a TMT to Earth. Steve resided in a place called Paris, Sister did not want to go to his home and be forced to kill again. Not very far from the TMT alcove, affixed to a stonewall, a blue printed sign reading: Avenue du Colonel Henri Rol-Tanguy. Much of the fabulous ancient city of lights had seen more activity, but even during its most crowed times, this early morning hour saw virtually no traffic. Sister wanted to call Martha and then find a place to hide until her friend could help her to get away.
--""—
Tilo Taros had spent the last days in seclusion and while he was conducted research. He had the resources and access to a wide-spanning network of sympathizers and fanatics that adhered like him to the old cult of the Necros. He knew he would not be able to find out more from his secluded cloister, important to the Thauran religion of the Blessed Blue Virgin, yet utterly unimportant in terms of galactic importance. With a sigh, he got up and drew back the heavy velvet curtains he had pulled before the arched stain glass windows of his sanctum. The local sun had set about two hours ago, and neither of the three small moons of this world reflected enough light to make any significant difference to the almost complete darkness surrounding the old walls of this cathedral. The rain-heavy clouds obscuring the usually bright stars eliminated most of whatever light was left, but darkness meant little to Tilo, or anyone else dwelling between these thick stone walls. His eyes stopped at a very intricate and quite sacred effigy of the Blue Virgin as her oversized figurine, frozen in an everlasting expression of sadness stared down on him. Officially he was one of the Blue Cardinals and a deep believer in the immortal goddess. The Virgin's catholic roots had almost been completely forgotten and been replaced by a rich and detailed theological myth of its own, but Tilo only pretended to be a believer. He used this religion to mask his true fanatic devotion to a much older religion. A religion centered on a real God, a mad and insane god indeed, but a tangible creature he had meet now twice in person.
He still stared up towards the stone statue of the Blue Virgin. So utterly important to all Thaurans, to the Thaurna Kings and the Emperor on the Azure Throne himself, yet even hardly known beyond Thauran worlds. It was true and a deep source of Thauran pride, the colonists that had left Earth so very long ago, had carved their own empire and gained impressive technological achievements without any outside help, but when seemingly unstoppable brutes from a different galaxy appeared, all Thauran pride, technology or religion wasn't enough to stop the Y'All. Thaurans joined the distant Union and things never were the same again.
Now over 1300 years later, Thaurans were a firm part of the Union. Thaurans could be found in virtually every social role and every service civilian or military. No one, except for perhaps a few dried out old nobles wanted it any other way. The Union by itself was so vast, the religion of the Blessed Blue Virgin did not even appear among the 5000 most popular religions. If Tilo was correct it ranked somewhere between 6490 and 6510. Or in other words utterly unimportant. The other religion, the one Tilo took more seriously than life itself was one of those transcultural things that occurred in virtually all known societies at one point or another. Every known society had or did know about it. They had many names and were often called a death worshipping cult. It occurred in various forms in a million cultures and societies.
The Saresii knew of the Necro long before they began their First Age of Knowledge. The Exalted on the World of Old warned about it and the Eternal Ones suggested that it was an old legend and cult even as the First League rose, over a billion years ago. As always, Tilo got a dry mouth just thinking about it, because he knew that the story of the Necros went back much further, all the way back to the Eon of the First Rotation. Nothing of this time remained, at least to the knowledge of almost everyone.
Time counted in billions of years had the power to erase everything after all. Back then an Empire existed. It would later be known as the First Empire, only because so many, much lesser ones followed. It was ruled by an entity of truly godlike powers and access to the Power Cosmic itself and with a command of technology that could not be distinguished from ultimate magic. Why this First Empire under the rule of this god entity, the Emperor failed or vanished was not known. Only vague theories remained one of which was that not even this mighty Emperor with all his power could truly overcome death. Another one told the complete opposite, that this Emperor indeed succeeded doing just that.
The legend of the Necros according to the Necro King begun shortly thereafter. When the last guardian of First Empire knowledge vanished that knowledge was given to a Techno Mage, the wisest of the then living. The truth was so vast and so profound it caused madness and the first Necro King. According to this entity itself, it managed to transplant its mind from being to being. Some versions lasting for millions of years at a time.
While no one but the Necro King could really validate this story, there was no denying the fact that the Necro King, in rare moments of partial sanity remembered technology and science that was beyond anyone. Tilo sneered at the stone effigy. "You are nothing but the figment of Rene Thauran's mind. A needed tool to keep the starving colonists in line that had lost all hopes just before they found the promised worlds."
No, he was serving a real god. And if nothing else, the Necro King guarded secrets that could rise Tilo to godhood himself. Ambitious indeed, but would any less be worth a Thauran's attention, or in this case the attention of several generations of Taroses?. That this religion was prohibited by many societies past and present to him and all the believers were only validation. The Saresii prohibited it. The Saran's had a secretive but not quite forgotten death cult. When it reached the Union for the first time and the practice of human sacrifices and the experimental re-animation of the deceased by scientific and bio-genetic means were revealed by a meddling Union police detective, the Necro Cult became the only religion prohibited to be practiced as it was meant to be practiced. The Kermac eager to learn what almost conquered the Union became infected by the Necros themselves and there among the Kermac, it was forbidden as well.
The Shiss do not ever mention the All Black Shiss and while Tilo had no idea if the Nul had any such aspect within their culture it was only because the Nul shared-nothing at all. That the Necro Cult was truly universal was evident in the existence of the Arcane Order within the Petharian society. The Petharian society prohibiting anyone under the pain of death to become a member of that officially extinct order. Tilo looked over his notes as he gathered them into a secure folder. They all centered on a device, know to a select few, as the Resurrector. It first surfaced in recent reports about an experiment an ill-fated Saran dynasty conducted, using what they thought to be a Saresii device. It resurrected a Terran Battle Telepath with almost catastrophic consequences.
The device itself and the knowledge about it became lost for a while, only to re-surface with the Kermac and the subsequent legend that the Nega-Ker, the Kermac Necro worshippers succeeded in using the device successfully. Creating a living weapon only known as Experiment Vengeance Red. Tilo's research confirmed that the device was secured by NAVINT and deemed lost. However, he had been able to pick up the trace pointing to events underneath the ice mud ocean of Ceres, an asteroid within the Sol System. Even though he had to be careful as to how much he wanted his contact to be exposed, he found the latest report more than disturbing. Indeed only a select few know about the existence of the Resurrector, but those who knew wanted the device for themselves. All of these parties were quite dangerous, especially those he knows next to nothing about. The device was apparently destroyed, but the Experiment itself had vanished. Was this the work of Larthop, the self-proclaimed Son of Darkness? If so, who was he and who did he act for? Tilo had no time to lose and booked passage from Thaurus Station on a Space Train to the Sol System.
--""—
Sam closed the door of his cabin, while he was not particularly tired he knew he better found rest while he had a chance. With a deep sigh, he looked into his reflection above the hygiene station and massaged his lantern chin with the fingers of his right hand. The move resulted in a dry rasping sound and told him, that he had to shave soon. While there were plenty of options that curbed or even eliminated the need to shave, none crossed his mind as an acceptable solution. He would shave as long as he could and hope to be dead by the day he could no longer. "Sam, what did you get yourself into again?" He scolded his own reflection. "Here I am, chasing not even really knowing who or what all the while I could be back on Green Hell heckling Charles over its GalNet entertainment options, watching Lockjaw coil underneath the front porch or marvel at the surprisingly lazy Stomper."
But he dismissed his thoughts with a grunt. "A friend needed his help, and while she was still far from being a good friend. She was, if he had to be honest, well on her way to become quite something else. That her recent troubles were far from over, of that he was quite certain. Just as he was about to select for a traditional shave, his COM unit hummed a silly old tune. Only a very few knew that this old song accompanied Marines of the Deadly Ghosts on every drop. He brushed over the accept sensor and Algear Moansti appeared and like so many Saresii this one looked like a beautiful woman. In Alegar's case a spectacular blonde with a killer body. Sam knew, however, that this particular Saresii was biologically male.
Sam had no real biases against any sentient lifeform, human or otherwise but he could not help to find this particular expression of culture and society rather deceptive. He did exclude Alegar from this for two reasons. Alegar never made it a secret and told everyone right away about it and because the Eternal Warrior endorsed the Saresii and told Sam he could be trusted. As a RAvE man, sam had rescued a few Saresii from beyond Union space and returned them safely. One of them was a close relative to Alegar. The Saresii blonde vowed to assist Sam if he ever needed it. So it was Alegar, Sam turned to assist Martha and more so her friend Geha. Alegar went straight to the point. "She is gone, Sam. I failed to protect the one called Geha." "She died?"
"No, or at least I don't know if she did by now. She used her psionic abilities to make me sleep deeper than I intended and when I woke she was gone. " "I better tell Martha." Sam paused the Com, stepped across the corridor, and had the system announce himself. "Martha, it is me, Sam. I got to speak to you." The system responded. "No occupant present." "Where did she go, shopping or something?" "Sorry, passenger. I am unable to provide you with the requested information." A gray-skinned humanoid in Silver Lines Uniform was passing by. "Steward, do you know where Ms. Masters is?" "Sir, the woman of that cabin left us in the very last. She is no longer aboard."
--""—
Roy had already kissed his Marine career goodbye, and while he understood the reasoning and increasingly became aware of what a great opportunity this was for both the Wurgus and the Union, he certainly didn't feel too cheerful about it. Especially since he no longer had a clear understanding of just how long he would have to remain among these ugly aliens. Not that they were as ugly to his eyes as they were before, he started to get used to them. He learned about their complex ritualistic religion that focused on trouble-causing mischievous spirits. Which manifested themselves as gnome-like twins, especially if their names were mentioned while exposed to the light of a sun. He learned that the Wurgus had a sense of humor and indeed a very sophisticated technology.
Roy stood in a semispherical chamber that was at the very center of Wurgus ships and represented the same concept as a Union ship's bridge. This fundamental difference was explained to him caused by differences in weapon technology. To Wurgus and most any other spacefaring societies, the center of the ship was the safest space, and technically the last place where weapons and boarding parties would reach.
Union ships were designed with Translocator cannons in mind, where the center of a ship offered no particular layer of protection, but a bridge at the top of a ship could be jettisoned and become an escape pod. The Wurgus crew and what they had for officers went out of their way to make sure Roy understood everything they did. None of the Wurgus seemed to grow tired or felt annoyed by his presence or his questions. The opposite seemed to be true. All Wurgus looked the same at first glance, but as one stepped up next to him he asked. "You are Mursitun, is that right?" "It pleases me to see this much progress in you, Masterun. This however also saddens my task." Roy steeled himself for yet another bad turn of things. "What task?"
"We reached Pluribus system, Masterun. Our delegation will step before your Assembly and what you Unions call the Potential Union Member Assessment will commence shortly thereafter. I am certain you will resume whatever education process the Eternal Warrior spoke, but Wurgus ships will always be home to you. You are the first Non-Wurgus Patriarch after all." This news floored Roy. If he caught the next space bus or whatever transportation to Camp Mattis, he would not have to catch up for more than two weeks, but he curbed his sudden elation as much as he could. "I didn't expect it to be over so soon." "You could stay longer with us, of course. However, it was another test if you will. We wanted to see if you would be willing to make a sacrifice like that for the sake of a greater thing. " The Wurgus paused a second. "You have passed this one as well and earned the respect of what comes with the title of Patriarch. Only with earned respect is it a valid one." "I think I begin to understand what All Patriarch Sensitu was saying when he spoke to the Consul." "We are glad this is so."
--""—
Stahl's face was unreadable as it usually was, but he was one of those who could smile with his eyes alone. The Assembly had given the Wurgus delegation quite an enthusiastic ovation and promised to dispatch the PUMA teams right away. The application of any new member was always considered to be a historic event and this was no different for the Wurgus application. Stahl had left the Inner Sphere and stepped up to Roy. "Thank you, Son You did well." "That simple acknowledgment indeed felt like a badge of honor and he began to understand why other marines felt the way they did about the Immortal Warrior. Stahl put his hand on Roy's shoulder. "Ready to go back to Boot Camp?" "Oh yes Sir, yes Sir indeed." "But before I take you back there, I have a few loose ends to tie up right here on Pluribus. While it is technically highly irregular, but you still have two days of leave of absence. We are on Pluribus, so…" "Sir, I think I catch a bus or something if it is alright with you, Sir." "It would be alright with me, Son, but I doubt it would be alright with her… or it." "Her…?" "I told you I make it up to you. Well, I am busy now. A sharp bang of suddenly displaced air distracted Roy. It was a very familiar sound! "Partner!" As he threw his arms over the wildly sneezing Black Beast, he saw her. Standing there with her hands folded before a cute mini skirt, her gorgeous blonde hair held back by a black band and her eyes demurely lowered. "He said we might have two days…"
--""—