Destiny

[jammi]

This particular rune was first discovered just over three months ago. The team here on Cambridge managed to get a rough translation on it by cross referencing writings from the Pragamar Scrolls and the Vendric collections.

Well I think it is the same symbol. They often do have various defining parts, intrinsic to the symbols meaning. So long as your drawing is accurate, we should be able to cross-reference it against our catalogue on the main net systems.

I nodded. I knew the CRI kept records of each individual rune discovered so that a complete compilation might be formed. I highly doubted the full wonders of the DomKavosh would ever be fully comprehended through their writings however their language, if it was only one language, was hopelessly complicated, with various leading professionals estimating there may be many millions of separate symbols, or maybe even more than that.

To further complicate matters, the runes would rarely convert directly to human languages, due to the fact the material being studied would often describe a feeling, action, concept completely alien to humanity. This resulted in translations being, generally speaking, highly inaccurate, with huge paragraphs being required to fully express the meaning of a single word.

Harman tenderly picked up the piece of paper as if it was holy and marched briskly out the room, beckoning for me to follow. We arrived in his study, where he fed the image into a machine, where it to appear on a now-active computer screen. He keyed in a few prompts and commands and the computer set off, sifting through all the records it had access to.

This may take a few moments the computer will map a system of points over the image, then apply those points to recorded symbols in order to accurately identify the correct one. I nodded politely, despite having spent just over a week studying the machine during my time at the university and fully understanding how the process worked.

Slowly the possibilities were whittled away, until only one remained, blinking on the screen. That was odd. Usually there would be numerous results, all similar to an almost undistinguishable level. Harman looked pleased.

Just what I thought...

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[jammi]

This is the symbol I was talking about earlier. The BAF interdicted some smugglers in Leeds and brought a collection of DomKavosh Artefacts back to the university for study. A great deal of them had that particular symbol inscribed on them. Ill just print off the data sheet for you now.

I wondered how those Artefact smugglers fitted in with Hans and the dock workers tattoos. This new revelation would certainly mesh with my prior theory that the two were linked with the Artefact trade though. Then Harman made for the door. Ill be back in a moment Steven, I just need to go check up on the dog. I ignored him and turned back to the computer.

There was a buzzing noise as a sheet of paper was ejected from the printer, ink still gleaming dully on the page. I snatched it up, looking over the information. Or the lack of it.

It was almost unheard of for a rune to translate exactly into human language, yet that is what the fact sheet was suggesting. Only two words had been found. I placed the sheet of paper down on the table and turned around at the sound of Harman re-entering the room. He had a gun aimed at me.

Steven, dont make this difficult. Where did you find the Greater Truth?

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[jammi]

Id had to tell him about my library and the collections Id hidden in my home before it was destroyed. At first Harman had seemed surprised that Id managed to obtain so many artefacts and without alerting any of the authorities at that. Then I'd told him about what I'd seen in Rhienland. He was particually intrested in this part, but would not reveal why. I chose to keep my experiences on the Eastbourne to myself. Hed been quite for a moment, thinking about what I'd told him, then he'd reached a conclusion and forced me into his car, still at gunpoint and drove down the lane that led away from his house.

As he had weaved through the country lanes, my stomach knotted as I realised where he was going. We mounted a final hill and the remains of my home came into view. Skeletal iron supports jutted into the sky, twisted and deformed beyond recognition, rubble littered all around.

There was no-one around, not even the BPA forensic teams who were supposed to analyzing the ruin. Even in the darkness I could recognise the lay of the ground around me. Harman cut the front lights and we proceeded down towards the estate masked in darkness.

He pulled up by the side of the building, the western wing that was the most intact portion of the structure. He got out and indicated for me to follow. I slowly got out, hearing my feet crunch on the gravel drive and tinkle of glass that had been intermixed with it during the explosion.

You will show me where you hid the Artefacts Steven. If there are any left youll put them in the cars boot, you understand? Behave and you might not get hurt. There was a distant rumble of thunder and a light rain began to fall.

I made my way through the blackened and ruined hall, looking around at the scene of devastated grandeur. The library had been on the other side of the house, so I began to pick my way across the scree-slopes of rubble and between the fallen monoliths of masonry. There was a flash of lightning and the main hall was briefly illuminated.

The warped and melted remains of a Transport was half buried in the tiles. The Corsairs must have crashed the ship into the place from orbit.

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[jammi]

There was the library. Three of the walls still stood, bowed in slightly to the point of near collapse. There was another distant rumble of thunder and the rain intensified. I picked my way inside, stumbling on the loose rock and glass that littered the floor. Burnt scraps of paper torn from books lay plastered to the floor by the falling rain.

Where did you keep the artefacts? Harman was picking his way through the rubble a few feet behind me. I could see a small red dot that indicated the power setting on his pistol through the darkness as I peered back over my shoulder.

Just up ahead, there was a safe that contained all of my collections. I wondered if the shell had survived. The safe was one of the strongest money could buy on the commercial market, forged from exotic alloys mined from the very depth of PLanet Leeds. I splashed through the water that was pooling around me, becoming sludgy from ash it was picking up from all around.

I squatted in the corner where the safe used to be; now only a pile of debris. I tried to pull a slab of fallen stone out the way, but only succeeded in grazing my palm on a peice of broken glass.

Its under that pile of rubble. Youd have to help me clear it off though. I went back to sifting through the lighter pieces of debris, wondering whether Harman would help or not. If he did that would give me an opportunity to do something, seeing as he wouldnt have a gun trained on me. With escape in mind, I plucked a particularly jagged piece of glass out of the ruins. Harman didnt seem to notice, so I went back to clearing the rocks away.

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[jammi]

He lingered, probably weighing up risks and possibilities. As a show of good faith I went back to clearing smaller pieces of ruin, the glass tucked into my sleeve. I sifted away some sludgy ash and came across a metal surface the safe. I scrabbled away at the surface, clearing an area about two hands wide. Heavier rocks covered the rest.

Ive found it! Its here! Harman jumped forward to peer over my shoulder, shining a small torch down to the cleared area. The safes dulled and pitted surface was clear to the eye in the beam of light.

Well dig it out then! I made a show of trying to tug one of the larger and less glass-covered pieces of masonry off the safe, before giving up with a theatrical shrug of my shoulders.

I cant budge the rest its too heavy. Harman fidgeted for a moment before jumping forward to help heave rocks away. I grinned to myself. Greed was such a burden.

If you try anything Steven, Ill shoot you. Im not afraid to use this you know! he threatened, waving his pistol at me melodramatically before leaning forward to heave at a larger rock. I slowly worked at the glass in my sleeve in a way that Harman wouldnt notice.

After several minuets sifting away the mud, I had the glass in my palm. It was sharp all over if I stabbed Harman, no doubt it would slash open a wound in my own hand. I cursed my own stupidity and cast around for an alternative. My fingertips brushed against a small lump of brick. Something was protruding from it; possibly a nail.

I grasped it tightly, watching Harman from the corner of my eye. He had succeeded in rolling away a large boulder of wreckage which had masked the safes entrance, which looked slightly warped, probably by immense heat and pressure. Harman was staring at it fixedly. I raised the brick above my head, bracing myself to bring it down on Harmans skull, but then he turned.

With a scream of terror he brought the weapon to bear as the stone came crashing down, the thud and wet smash of the stone dulled by the drumming of the rain and the single sharp discharge of a laser weapon.

I fell backwards stunned. Pain blossomed throughout my body, darkness flooding my vision. I dropped to my knees, staring blankly at the squat form of the safe, which I had fallen protecting. Had it been worth it? The darkness overtook me and I fell forward into the mud, the bleak moon my only witness.

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[jammi]

Slowly I came to, lying on my front in freezing cold mud. My arm burnt as if it was on fire. I groaned and rolled over, looking around groggily at my surrounding. The ruins of the library were bleached into monochrome by the early hours of the mornings overcast sky. Looking at my arm, I could see a small hole had been drilled into my flesh, the wound cauterised by the shot as it passed through. The flesh around the hole was a raw red, the skin cracked by the lasers heat. Another wave of agony rolled over me so I curled up in a ball, the mud matting in my hair.

After several minuets I dragged myself to my knees before struggling to my feet where I teetered, unbalanced. Still mentally numb from the pain that still wracked my arm, I looked around me once more. The mud to my left was crimson. The crimson trail led to the prone form of Harman. His head had been caved in. I swiftly looked away before my already unsettled stomach could react to the sight.

I staggered away from the corpse towards the safe. I had been brought to find that damn thing and been shot for it. I might as well retrieve the contents. Maybe I could sell them and buy a ship to get me off-planet, away from Bretonia...

I twisted the lock combination until there was a click and a slight movement from the huge metal door. I hauled it open with my good arm, peering inside, gazing through the shadows cast by the half-light. Something inside was casting its own light - an eerie blue-purple. I brushed some strewn papers out of the way to find a rectangular object, no more than seven inches in length and five in width. There were two small spikes that protruding from either end, and the thing was decorated by symbols which covered the entire surface. I remembered buying it. They symbols had not been glowing then.

Gingerly I picked it up, squinting to make out the tiny symbol my stomach lurched as I recognised it. It was the Greater Truth.

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[jammi]

I cradled the object to my chest. I could feel it vibrating gently; pulsing even. I wondered what had activated it...

Quickly I rifled through the jumbled mess to find several other Artefacts. They were still as dead as the day I had brought them however. I checked my watch for the time. It was 6 am, of the 27th. There was nothing special about the date and besides having a Transport land on it, nothing important had happened in order to activate the Truth Stone, as I had dubbed it.

Unless... Perhaps it had been activated by pure luck? Maybe the Transport crashing had emitted some sort of radiation or sound that had activated it. The latter was more likely the vibrations from the explosion, diluted through the safes walls could have happened to form an activation key. It was unlikely but all I could think of in my injured state.

I gathered up a few more of the dead Artefacts and bundled them into my mud streaked jacket. Then I turned back to Harman, trying not to take in the ruined face and the gaping wounds which revealed that which should not ever see daylight. Rolling him over to avert the dead mans gaze, I checked his pockets, finding the car keys.

Retracing my steps through the previously familiar house I found the car and unlocked it. Starting the ignition I moved it into reverse and jerkily pulled away. My lack of confidence behind the wheel was further hindered by my right arm refusing to move. I was beginning to think something important may have been shot - a numbness spreading through the limb testifying to this.

Slowly the car crept away from the necropolis. I set course for the spaceport. Surely there must be a connection between the Greater Truth and the Rhienlanders. The intricacy of the symbol and the fact it had been repeated twice by people of completely different walks of life ruled out coincidence.

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[jammi]

I had visited an Art Dealer on my way to the spaceport and had pawned the inactive Artefacts. A contact in the Junkers had identified him as a local distributor before I had left for Rhienland what felt like years ago, so I was confident he would take me up on a sale. I had sold them for half their worth, but it would be enough to buy a small ship for myself or a ticket on a transport. As a gesture of good will he had also given me a first aid kit and access to a shower.

Now Harmans car was parked in a disused car park, left unlocked with the keys in the ignition. I was sure a student would have off with it before a Constable found it, removing one difficulty. I made my way to a ship dealer, located in a huge warehouse in order to house the huge craft that were kept there.

Two hours later a beaming salesman led me to a second, or possibly third hand Clydesdale. It looked as if it had been one of the pioneer shuttles that had pushed back Bretonias boundaries after the Exodus. Sadly the ruin would have to do. I had no access to my own funds, and even if I did I would be hesitant to use them. Remote withdrawals were so easy to track.

Now I sat in a grimy office watching my new ship being towed towards a private landing pad; huge drifts of dust kicked up by the Grav-Buffers that were keeping it suspended. Once it had been relocated, I inspected it, noticing a faded name scrawled onto the hull in a spidery font. It read the Horizon. Boarding the craft through the cargo bay I made my way to the cockpit. The ship smelt of damp and rot. A green light was flashing on the HUD, indicating I had launch priority for the docking ring. I pressed a button and the engines shuddered into life, the reactor thumping and clattering back into service after decades of slumber.

I settled into mouldering command seat and rested my now bandaged arm on my lap, running a diagnostic with the other. The scan revealed a set of low grade weapons, probably deemed to worth less as scrap than the labour charges to tear them off. I also noticed with dismay that there was a stain on the bandage as the wound wept.

I prepped for Horizon for launch, awaiting the embrace of the docking ring and finally the release of the void.

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[jammi]

I was basking in a feeling of ethereal freedom, unlike that I had experienced aboard the Dauntless and Eastbourne. This time I commanded my own Destiny. I set a course for the Battleship Norfolk, the Trade Lanes bursting into life as I neared them. I expected a swarm of BPA ships to scream towards me at any moment, their weapons bursting the protective bubble of my shield and cruelly rending my hull apart. But they did not come. The Horizon sped away towards the last Bretonian bastion between me and Rhienland which soon fell behind me as surely as Planet Cambridge had done but moments before.

Soon I was in Omega 3, speeding towards the Freeport. I was now outside Bretonian jurisdiction. Free. There was nothing that could be done to drag me back to the authorities, save a long and delicate extradition process which I could disappear from before it culminated in my removal.

Now the Freeport loomed, bouncing code and requests back and forth, interfacing with my ship. I tugged at the helm, wheeling my ship around towards the indicated docking bay. A dotted line appeared on the ships screen indicating my flight path into the bay. Shortly before contact, the computer took over and hauled the Clydesdale into the bay, artificial gravity and atmosphere grasping it as the bay closed. There were groans of complaint from all over the Horizons hull before it settled down on its buffer.

Below automatons hauled fuel cells to my now open cargo bay to refresh the reactor which had been dulled by the years on inactivity. The supply should last me until Stuttgart, and from there I could continue to New Berlin maybe try to return to the University.

I command my own Destiny.

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[jammi]

There was a small chime from the control panel those damned inefficient droids would not be finished loading for another thirty minutes. I rose from the command chair, which made my head spin. Shaking my head clear I leant on a nearby wall for a moment until I felt steady. The numb sensation in my arm was gone and had been replaced by a steady and agonising burning as well. That was spreading.

I decided I couldnt put off having the wound seen to any more. The Zoners were neutral and probably wouldnt sell me out if anyone came looking for me afterwards. Probably. And if not Zoners, there must be hundreds of Freelancers and other assorted misfits and rejects loitering around the place. One of them had to be medically trained. So I staggered out of the cockpit and down through the shadowy, empty cargo bay and out into the hanger.

The sudden noise was like walking into a wall the sound of pilots bickering with commodity and equipment dealers over prices, pilots talking, drunkards from the bar shouting at each other from opposite sides of the room. I continued to wobble away from my ship, heading for an access door that led to the stations interior. I weaved across the corridor, my vision now blurring. The wound was worse than I thought.

My face was cold and sweaty. I must have been deadly pale, because one woman that passed me had asked if I was ok in a shocked tone. I ignored her and carried on. My head reeled for the second time, coinciding with a sudden agonising pain from the wound. I wasnt going to stay on my feet this time. I crumpled into a heap, my last sight through my confused eyes being the fuzzy sight of a pair of legs running towards me.

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