Galactic Pilgrimage, Part 1 of 3 - Exeunt
19 Aug 2018Monolith Preacher
OOC - I've been working on this story arc for quite a while, and I've had a lot of stuff go on in-game and in other people's logs which have put me back from finishing it. Please bear in mind that Marra's new logs are set just after this arc. Attempting to write parts of her story into mine chronologically would feel like plagiarism, so the next arc shall be set after Preacher leaves her plotline and will do no more than mention a few things in hindsight. The Thargoids.
The Thargoids...
Rainrix had been having conniptions for the better part of a week whilst repeating that phrase. He'd built a bug squasher from his 'vette before finding out you had to get alien artefacts to create weapons which even hurt them, and he had a rule against that.
“I ain't stealing anything from something I can't smuggle to. Redde Caesari quae sunt Caesaris.” he said to Smeg Ed, who had learnt quickly to nod rather than interject when Preach was talking.
“No, the answer to this alien issue lies in countering hard with soft, just like in Kung Fu. Besides, the Thargoids are being led around by Aegis anyway.” Smeg Ed was used to Jaquel's conspiracy theories, and decided to let this one play out to its usual conclusion. If it wasn't the Thargoids, it was Aegis. If it wasn't Aegis, it was Smurfette. If it wasn't Smurfette, it was the Feds. His biases were obvious, and he refused to look at his own shortcomings. Even for a kid who was barely pubescent, such personality flaws were as clear as day to someone who'd spent time around addicts and liars.
“There's no point in me chasing these attacks, and no-one's going to lead them to our neck of the woods as this is nowheresville which was why we chose to set up shop here in the first place...” Ed couldn't actually disagree on this one. Whilst the club had a steady clientele which often numbered in the millions per month, such numbers were paltry considering the pomp of Imperial parties. He decided to keep shtum about the fact that Preach wasn't actually involved in the picking of the place, as even Deggie would understand such shorthand. Black Omega was “us”, and even other members of the PSC were “them” if it came down to it. The meaning of “us” was subject to change according to the situation, but the loyalty to whomever “we” were within those boundaries was not.
“...but there's something more to all this. Those Guardians are as likely to be our friends as our enemies, and I need to get to the bottom of all this sooner rather than later.” Preach finished his Pan-Galactic Gargle Blaster and slammed the glass on to the bar so hard it shattered in his hand, causing a few lacerations through his glove. Ed immediately reached for a cloth, but slung it over his shoulder for later rather than stop his customer mid-thought.
“Do us a quaver, me laddie, and tell the old man I'll be through to his office once I've wrapped me Germans.” Jaquel briskly span off his seat and sauntered groggily through the haze of Fesh ice to the medical facilities at the back of the club as Ed chuckled at his ability to switch from Latin to Cockney and other such dead lingoes with nary a second thought.
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Deggie was relaxing in his jacuzzi. Rainrix wondered how he hadn't turned into a prune by now, seeing as he always seemed to be sitting in that damned tub of late. He blamed it on his aching joints, and he was getting rather old, but Preach thought it was just an excuse to stay off his feet for a while.
“So what's this about, Jackie boy? I'm kinda busy with some spreadsheets here...”
Another name meant to annoy him. At this the point that he barely even listened to his epithets any more. He guessed there was no point in sugar coating anything.
“Well I'm gonna be busy for a month or so myself, I need to go to Nansen's”
A few bubbles extra emerged from the jacuzzi at that statement.
“Why the fuck are you suddenly needing to go to the arse end of the galaxy? We've got new recruits signing up at a rate of knots and we need them trained! You've got to delegate the systems we've been trying to hold onto so new Capos can take hold of them, and you could do with some more combat training yourself to be frank! Why now, of all times, are you choosing to shirk your responsibilities?”
Jaquel didn't move an inch, but he did wrinkle his nose slightly as the methane reached his side of the room.
“The Thargoids are going nuts, and the Guardians are an unknown entity. I need answers, and I'm going to have to go to Nansen's to find them.”
Deggie's eyes rolled into the back of his head as he sighed volubly.
“And I suppose your cargo cult is coming round to give you another existential crisis about something you can't face head-on like the rest of the fucking galaxy, right? There's legions out there blowing up these flowers and you're gonna go on a damned walkabout? Real smooth, Jackie, real smooth.”
Preach coughed slightly as the smell became a taste he needed to get rid of post haste.
“I'm not asking for your permission, I'm telling you the situation. You've been relying on me for a long time now, it wouldn't kill you to go back to doing your own work for a while.”
Deggie stood up abruptly, the water in his jacuzzi responding by spurting into his nearby glass of bubbly.
“You think I've been bone idle this whole time? Since Marra left, I've been doing all the spreadsheets you can't be bothered with. Auggie helped lighten the load for a few months before he disappeared into the ether, but you're as bad w/ numbers as you are good with words you cheeky pleb!”
“Regardless,” Preach retorted “we each have our jobs to do, and the spreadsheets were never part of my job description. You knew my strengths when you took me on, and the buck stops with you if you can't find someone to fill Marra's heels besides yourself now she's gone. Keep on looking at your monthly profit margins, I've thinking more long term.”
He turned on his heel and left before any real discussion could be had, and Deggie spluttered as he drank the last of his glass.
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The Ravager had been stripped even more bare than ever. When the Fredegi tore open the hull to fashion spikes for “ritualistic protection” Preach thought he could finish the job by stripping the internals, and so he took some time and a fair amount of materials to Sheng to allow for it. He'd heard about Guardian FSD boosters coming on to the market, but decided against using them for the same reasons as he declined to use Thargoid tech. Looking at his jump range of 69Ly, he thought it was good enough to get him there and back. As he ran through the preliminary checks before he left Clair Dock, he wondered if he should tell anyone else what he was up to.
Of course, Jaquel hadn't told the boss everything. He was going to Nansen's, but he wasn't taking the usual route through the core. He'd been to see The Great Annihilator already, and one trip to Colonia was enough for him to never want to go back to the kind of place which gave him such bad luck in his Beluga. Instead, he was going to visit a few pilgrimage locations along the Eastern side of the galaxy, and he decided to make one call once he'd gotten out into the Black and made sure the only bugs on his vessel were his own. His ship name was censored in communications anyway due to the weird legal framework for obscenities set down by The Pilot's federation, but people wanting to trace his messages within the bubble could probably find a way. An encrypted end-to-end transmission across nebulae was far less likely to be intercepted.
The ship booted up, and a myriad of voices began to chatter. Between Holly, Vasco, Cecil, Midnight, Archer, and SHODAN, even Zero found it hard to get a word in around all the AI babble of late. It used to annoy Preach that Scarlet had added so many voices and protocols to his ships, but they'd proven useful in their own ways over time so he'd gotten used to the background noise. He occasionally even asked their opinions, but he tended to have to aggregate their responses into any real course of action once he'd done so as they rarely agreed on anything.
“Like my two minds themselves, I suppose..” he muttered to no-one in particular.
“Whaddayamean, Guv?” Zero responded.
Preach patted his little pumpkin and tossed his a scrap of slave meat.
“Nothing much, Zero. It's just sometimes it can be hard to tell where the conscious ends and the subconscious begins.”
“I can't say I know that feelin', Guv. I say what's on my mind and don't think about which part I'm usin'...” Zero replied with his usual candour.
Jaquel smirked slightly and set out towards the Red Spider Nebula, his first call whenever he entered the black. He was, after all, both superstitious and a creature of habits.