Silence, besides the occasional pressing of a button, or the adjustment of an instrument. There wasn't really a need to speak, or communicate otherwise. Not if they didn't need to uphold a charade. In front of them, the wide window of the RNC-Schiller's bridge revealed the vast emptiness of space. A solitary sun, a couple of clicks away, its rays bent around the outside of the battleship, rendering it invisible, except a small, residue radiation that one needed to pay attention to in order to pick up.
They were watching a couple of dots move around a holoscreen that had been projected over the vista. A group of blue marked dots moved from one end of the screen to the other, slowly, their destianation being jump hole that would lead them out of Honshu and into the contested Sigma-21 system. Behind them, two groups of three smaller, red triangles, each surrounded by a circle to indicate that they were cloaked, followed, keeping a certain distance. The blue dots moved directly towards the Schiller, which had positioned itself to block the jump hole.
10. 9. 8. 7. 6.
It wouldn't be much longer until the convoy they had set their eyes on would arrive, forcing them to do their play. From what they knew so far, the convoy was supposed to bring valuable supplies and manpower to the Battlegroup Hyono. A new shift of soldiers, to replace the ones who had served the initial month of the conflict and to replace the fallen. It was a perfect target. Difficult to reach for the Rheinland Military, but the Schiller had its ways of circumventing useless battles.
5. 4. 3. 2. 1.
The vessel decloaked, just as the convoy moved into the range of the Schiller. As if by an unspoken command, the holoscreen indicated that the two groups of triangles had decloaked behind the convoy, and in complete sync, both the Schiller and the two bomber wings' weapons roared to life, stopping the incoming convoy dead in its tracks, its snubcraft escorts caught completely off guard, disabled. Only now we could really appraise which vessels we had stopped. Two armoured transports.
"Dies ist das Rheinwehrschlachtschiff Schiller," I spoke up, standing in the middle of the Schiller's command deck, broadcasting the message on local frequencies, as to avoid unwanted attention. We estimated that Battlegroup Hyono awaited this convoy to arrive within the next twenty minutes. That was our time window if we intended to succeed. As awaited, the cripplied vessels didn't respond. "Triebwerke aus und ergeben Sie sich. Wir werden jetzt an Bord kommen." Again, as if through an unspoken command, the Schiller moved, slowly positioning itself between the two armoured transports. I didn't wait to see it. I knew it would happen, just as much as anyone else on the vessel. Dead silence followed me around the ship as I walked towards the boarding stations that had been pre-prepared for this. I looked at my watch. 17 minutes. Battlegroup Hyono would undoubtedly send a regimen to scout the area if we didn't manage to clear out the armoured transports fast enough. My hope had been that the element of surprise would throw them into enough disarray that the boarding maneuver would not give them enough time to pick up weapons and defend themselves. However, realistically, we were likely facing highly trained soldiers.
By the time I arrived at the bridgehead that had forcibly opened a way into one of the two vessels, the boarding party had already entered it. My steps echoed through the tubical pathway as I entered the transport on the starboard side of the Schiller. I was not afraid of being hurt. I would know in advance if someone were to approach me who wasn't with me. I stroked a strand of hair behind my ears before continuing. For this occasion, we had even dressed up in Rheinland Military uniforms. I had to admit, they were stylish. Less stylish, however, were the insides of the vessel I entered. The ambush had caught them completely off guard, and, given that we had aimed for their engines, some of the conductors had overloaded, causing damages to the hallways. Some panels had fallen off the walls and ceiling, and some minor fires had scorched the ground as cables spilt out of the holes, to be extinguised by the fire extinguishing systems.
Fifteen minutes. There were a couple of burn spots on the walls, doubtlessly from weapon fire hastily directed at the boarding forces. Roughly fifty per transport. I had never been on one of these vessels, yet I knew where I needed to go judging by the others who had paved the way. Soon, I saw the first bodies on the floor. Not dead. At least most of them, but seduced. I had a weapon with me in case any of them had flown under our radar, but none moved. Crossing the last corridor, I came face to face with the door of the medical bay, a place that had been sealed the moment the ship had been attacked. Due to the ambush having destroyed their reactors, most of the vessel's functions were currently running on emergency power, and the doors could only manually be opened. Two men were already on the task, prying open the doors with two large metal bars, fruitlessly. I knew, just as well as they did, that there were people inside. It only made sense that some people would be injured during the ambush, and be brought here. I watched the two men struggle against the locked door mechanism for a while longer, before I decided to take a different approach. They stepped back just as I stepped forward.
"This is the Rheinland Military boarding party. We have gained control of the vessel. Surrender now and open the door." With the metallic screeching of the breach attempts gone, I could actually hear some of the things that were going on inside. I knew there were people there, but not how many. We needed them alive, preferably. We couldn't merely blow up the door. That might damage them.
Instead of a straight answer, a voice from inside gave a trembling laugh. "Th- they want to get in here, yes?! C'mere, fishy fishy fishy. I know you want me, but you can't come in here. I am safe!" He almost shouted the last bit. The voice was a singular male one, slightly shakey. The accent was negligible, which was surprising. The way he referred only to himself made me think he was alone. "They can't come in here! The door is too heavy! Yes." The last bit was spoken in a smaller, almost inaudible voice.
"I take it you are alone?" I asked back, leaning against the door frame slightly to assume a more relaxed position. "There is no purpose to staying inside of there. We will open the door at some point. Come out, and you will be treated as a prisoner of war." 12 minutes. I had to keep in mind that it would at least take five minutes to get everyone off the ship. Behind me, people were already collecting the bodies and carrying them back into the Schiller.
Another cackling laugh. "Fishy?! Is that you? I could swear I heard you earlier. Did you come to eat me now?" What he was saying made no sense, and it was wasting precious time. What happened to this man? "I saw you eat them before. Yes! I did! Long, sabre-like teeth it had!"
I blinked. Had he seen...? But he couldn't know. We wouldn't proceed this way. It would take too long. It was easier to stun everyone and bring them to the Schiller for processing. "They are dead now. The infiltrators hid among the crew and tried to sabotage our operation," I continued, figuring this would be feeding into his narrative. "I can show them to you if you want. They're right outside here."
There was a period of silence, during which I counted the seconds. A man approached me from behind, carrying what I knew was a small satchel charge to break down the door if we needed to. "That is exactly what fishy would say!" came the voice from the other side of the door again, and I could hear clammoring on the other side, some metallic objects hitting the floor, as though someone was throwing things away without care. The room couldn't be that big.
"What are the odds?" I countered, hoping there was some sense in this person. "We will treat you like a combatant and open the door forcefully if you don't come out. Consider your options carefully." Sighing, I took a step back and the man placed the charge in the middle of the door, using clasps to keep it in place.
"I can heeeear yooou~" the voice sing-songed from the other side. "Click clack, little fingers fiddling with little buttons. I know you should take a person with smaller fingers for this."
I watched the man mount the explosive for a small while. "What is your name?" I asked, figuring that it didn't matter anymore, however. The man wouldn't comply.
"H- Hideo," he replied, almost immediately, and another object hit the floor, followed by a shuffling noise that I couldn't quite place. It sounded like paper. Or stiff cloth. "Nnnnot that it'll do you any good to know that, fishy! Fishy has no name. Yes."
"Maren," I introduced myself, seeing that the man with the satchel charge was almost finished. "We placed an explosive on the door," I began to explain. "We assume the room you are in is quite small, so you would do well to seek cover behind a bulky object. There are beds in there, right? You could turn them sideways and duck." I turned to get to cover, but I stopped again. Why'd it even matter if we didn't manage to get him out? We could leave him here, too.
No. If there was a chance we could get him as well, we should try. Starting to work again, I rounded a corner together with my entourage, before they detonated the satchel charge. It wasn't a big explosion at all. However, in confined spaces, it was still dangerous. As the dust settled, I peaked around the corner. The explosion had blasted away parts of the door. However, the hole that had been created was only so big, not allowing one to merely step through. Being less bulky than a man, I could probably climb through. We didn't hear anything from the other side of the room, so we assumed that the man on the other side was either dead or dazed.
There wasn't much time left, so I started emerging from behind the corner and I knew quite soon that the man behind the remains of the door was still alive when I got shot. A bullet perforated my uniform, punching a solid hole into my thigh and I gave a half-yelp, half scream, falling to my side, which prevented my head from receiving a similar hole as well. I couldn't move the leg. Not without excruciating pain at least. Moaning, I moved aside so Hideo wouldn't get another clean shot at me. A strangled cackling could be heard through the door, followed by a cough.
I cursed under my breath as I rested against the wall, blood leaking out of the hole in my thigh, the dark ichor soon seeping through my pants. The last thing I saw before consciousness failed me was one of the men who had accompanied me lobbing something through the hole in the door...
When I woke up again, I was alone. I knew that I had been brought back onto the Schiller to be patched back up. Memories rushed back to what had happened after the incident through the collected memory of the crew and I stood up, testing my leg daintily before finding that it was only a little sore. I noticed I was naked. Retrieving a set of rudimentary clothes, which were mostly utilitarian, as the human body still needed to conserve warmth, I left the medical wing, stepping through the halls of the Schiller with a goal in mind. The light was dim. We didn't really need it most of the time. Most of the wall plating was not mounted, as the ship was constantly writhing, consuming and ever expanding. The hybrid parts of it needed space, and the human ones maintenance. The plating was only aesthetical in nature anyway. A quick mental sweep revealed that the Schiller now had roughly three hundred more 'crewmen' than it had had before it had entered Honshu.
I entered the holding cell tract, having descended two decks. Most of the new arrivals that could not directly be introduced to our family were put here first. Most were unconscious, as the most common reason for why they would need to be held like this were their injuries, but some of them had other properties that made them difficult to work with — like the man for whose capture I had been shot for. I stopped in front of a holding cell, the figure behind the thin layer of energy hidden in the otherwise gloomy room. He was sitting. However, the way he was slouched forward belied his injuries. I deactivated the force field separating us and stepped in, the small noise of the capacitors powering down making him look up, wild eyed.
I knelt down in front of Hideo, taking in the extent of the damage. Either due to the explosion of the door, or when the Schiller disabled the transports, the man had been badly burnt. Not lethally, but I suspected these were second degree burns that coated half of his body. His uniform had either burnt or melted, fusing in an abhorrent manner with his flesh above the shoulder. He looked at me. "Where did you get this?" I asked, pointing at a small yet striking crystal that was embedded in a pendant he was wearing around his neck. He grit his teeth, evidently not in the mood to answer. "You're a Psionic," I stated, trying to see if saying it out loud would cause him to show a sign of recognition. "You are able to see things, aren't you? Either voluntarily or involuntarily, you have insight into our nature. This is how you knew we weren't with the Rheinland Military."
Whatever was going on in his head, I knew he was understanding what I was saying. However, his expression was merely that of passive pain. With a hand, I tried reaching for the pendant around his neck and took it from him. "You need a fulcrum point. Something related to us for your precognition to work. It is probably better if I take this from you." I watched him as his eyes followed the pendant in my hand. "This looks pretty bad," I continued, acknowledging his burns, visible through his charred uniform. "We don't rightly know what to do with you, you know. Psionics have always been rather ungrateful hosts." As he still remained quiet, I sighed. "You know, being quiet won't help you get medical attention. Why don't you talk with me, hmm?"
"***** you," he pressed out between his teeth. I noticed his mouth was partially burnt to the point where it'd be difficult to talk. We should really invest in more lighting in these cells.
"Well that's awkward," I mumbled, figuring that made it harder. "You know we will find out anyway, though. Why not tell me now?" I wondered if I should threaten him. It didn't seem like a good approach, given how careless he seemed. "I mean, you don't seem like someone who would want to be like us. In the end, we likely can't use you since you are already so broken. On the other hand, we will need to pry out of your head what you know about other potential Psionics. So what's it gonna be?"
He gave me a flat look. What a sassy thing to do in this situation. I had to admit, it was slightly surreal. "I don't-," he began, taking a gasping breath after these few words to continue. "You're asking something I can't give you. This is not how it works."
Now that was finally something interesting. "Then enlighten me. How do I need to imagine Psionic precognition?"
His eyes darted from the pendant in my hand back to my face. I looked down at the little thing in my hand. The crystal seemed to be a shard of a very old, depleted Nomad Power Cell. "You know carpets, right?"
I frowned. This really was a random thing to say. "Evidently."
"Before industrial production, they were woven on looms. The threads were first drawn vertically, then interwoven horizontally." He coughed and I clicked my tongue in impatience. "Imagine this, but the threads aren't cloth."
"Then what are they?"
He needed a few seconds before he could continue speaking. "Fates. Causality. However you want to call it. They work together with others and hold together, forming a structure."
"And you can view this structure?" I asked incredulously, severely doubting his words.
"No," he replied, trying to sit up straight against the wall he was leaning on but failing. "Snippets. They are triggered randomly for me. It is like zooming out, your mind expanding and for a split second, you know everything. Then it is gone and all I still have is a small but definitive certainty."
Could it be that the experience was different for each Psionic? The experience he described reminded me of what some people experienced shortly before suffering an epilleptic seizure. Some reported cases in which these seizures were preceeded by a state of altered consciousness, a so called aura. "And this?" I waved the pendant in front of his face. "Where'd you get this?"
"Would you believe me when I said I just found it?" He almost chuckled, but that seemed to be painful. "I mean, it looks like trash. It just spoke to me when I saw it and I couldn't ignore it."
He wasn't wrong in that regard. The crystal itself was merely milky white. Nothing out of the ordinary from a visual perspective. Turning it between my fingers, I mulled over what he had said. "There is one thing," I began, putting the pendant into a pocket of mine. "You shot at me twice." He tilted his head slightly, as if asking where I was going with this. "If your aura helped you recognize who we were, and who I was, and if you shot me twice but only hit once, why didn't you see it coming that the first one would only injure me and that you would miss the second one?" I arced an eyebrow. "You could have killed me."
He attempted a motion that, I was sure, was supposed to be a shrug. "I felt like I didn't need to."
"Now that is a ***** excuse if I ever heard one," I gave back flatly, looking at him. "What is this?" I mimicked his voice. "Ooooh, I didn't need to shoot you. I am so mysterious."
"Can you sod off now? I want to be in pain in peace," he gave back, closing his eyes. Standing up, I left him there. Someone else would go to him soon, but I doubted there had ever been a chance of getting more out of him.