Episode 119, Interrupted Intentions
26 Oct 2024Ryuko Ntsikana
Episode 119, Interrupted Intentions
_____________________________
Principal Avila read the holographic report from one of her faction’s scouts, her brow furrowing. It was odd for an independent contractor to warrant such an investigative effort. She couldn’t understand the hierarchy’s decision to divert resources towards this individual, especially given their waning influence. As far as she could see, a simple Type-8 passenger transport was mundane and irrelevant. Nothing the contractor had done seemed to affect her faction directly.
Yet here they were—this contractor, having helped bolster a faction now preparing for war, had docked on a neighboring fleet carrier and was leisurely traveling aboard a Beluga passenger liner. Their destination? A distant luxury tourism facility on an airless, frozen moon. It seemed they were taking a well-deserved break, enjoying their millions in earned credits while others fought it out, light-years away.
Avila scoffed. Diverting attention and resources to this was foolish—an inexcusable waste of effort when more critical matters demanded focus. She typed out a series of commands, attaching the scout’s report to her message. To her, the solution was simple. Whatever it was about this person that was capturing her leader’s attention, it needed to end.
Within the hour four separate ships jumped into the Bamazin system.
Ryuko’s faux smile lingered as each crew member received the code to their individual luxury suites, quickly scattering to indulge in the opulence the tourism facility promised. He watched them go, knowing they needed this brief moment of self-indulgence and debauchery. As long as he didn’t end up footing the bill for damages or bailing anyone out of trouble with the local authorities, he was content to let them enjoy their moment.
Tara, however, remained by his side. She had been through enough with Ryuko to know this was the calm before the storm. His web of maneuvering and twisting plots had led them here, to this precise moment. She could sense the undercurrent of tension in him, the quiet excitement of a man on the brink of realizing his grand vision. The branding of a legacy he had meticulously crafted was beginning to take shape. And even now, whispers and conspiracies were giving it breath, turning his plans into reality—though the others had no idea just how close they were to the storm that was about to break.
Tara glanced at Ryuko, whose eyes were fixed on the horizon beyond the massive glass windows. He looked calm, but she knew better. This moment was as much for him as it was for the crew—a chance to savor the quiet before everything he had set in motion reached its crescendo. The final act was near, and when it came, the fallout would reverberate through the sector. But for now, they had the luxury of stillness.
For now, they could pretend.
With the fading of the lunar surface day, no one saw the approach of the ships that descended on the facility below.
Ryuko was jolted awake, sensing an unusual movement beside him. Tara's head turned slowly, almost mechanically, from one side to the other, an unnatural rhythm in her maintenance cycle. He knew her artificial intelligence was evolving, her emotions becoming real, nuanced even—but he had never seen her respond like this. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she was having a nightmare. Uncertain of the effects of waking her mid-cycle, he chose instead to observe, to learn something more of his enigmatic companion.
Within her neural lattice, the shifting form that had begun visiting her at odd intervals emerged again. Human, then something else—cybernetic, fluid, its patterns defying her synthetic synapses. Its voice, ethereal yet familiar, resonated through her systems. For all its mystery, the presence felt almost comforting now, almost a friend. She knew it meant her no harm.
The figure conjured images, movements, sounds that blurred together in a puzzling collage. Then came a clear scene: Meredith stood against a bleak horizon, his hand held out to Ashlyn, who was staring back at him with sadness, her chest charred and melted as if by plasma fire.
"I do not understand," Tara’s voice rang through her own mind, though she felt the surge of protective instinct within her.
The apparition’s voice grew weighty, urgent, lacking its usual levity.
“They are in danger. It is not yet their time.”
“Define,” Tara pressed, scanning for clarity, for guidance.
“Tell your companion to prepare. He is awake. Wake up… now!”
Tara’s eyes snapped open, unbidden, her systems jolted by the message, though no command was present. Her gaze met Ryuko’s, who was watching her with intent caution.
“Bad dream?” His voice was soft, studying her, but there was an edge of wariness in his tone.
Tara’s mind was racing, her systems vibrating with urgency. “Don’t ask me how I know,” she began, each word driven by instinct, “but Meredith and Ashlyn are in grave danger. Something is coming for them, but I don’t know what, or how I know it.”
Ryuko watched her closely, letting the silence stretch for a moment as she ran diagnostic checks, searching for any trace of information, some rationale for her foreboding.
“Do we need to leave, or bring them here with us?” His tone was calm but threaded with a readiness to act.
Tara’s eyes widened as a new vision overtook her, an aerial image of ships landing at the tourism facility flashing through her mind. It was as if she were standing outside, watching their descent in real time.
“Tara… speak to me. What the hell is going on? Are you alright?” Ryuko’s grip tightened on her shoulders, shaking her slightly to draw her focus back to him. “Tara!”
She blinked, eyes snapping back to his. “They’re already here, at this facility. We won’t make it back to the ship with them.”
Ryuko’s gaze hardened as he processed her words, the hint of alarm in his expression giving way to intense focus. “Who’s already here? Where are they?”
Tara’s gaze darted in distraction, the visions replaying in her mind before locking once more onto him. “We have a chance. Call Captain Akio, have him move the carrier into orbit above this location. And tell him to launch a protective unit.” She hesitated, the words coming unbidden. “You must hurry.”
Ryuko didn’t waste a second. Trusting his companion’s urgency, he released his grip and reached for the communicator on the nightstand, slipping it onto his forearm with swift precision.
Twenty minutes later, Ryuko’s carrier slipped into lunar orbit, a wing of ships deploying immediately toward the moon’s surface.