No Rhyme or Treason, PART 1
21 May 2024Naomii
No Rhyme or TreasonAn Elite Dangerous Story, By Commander _Naomii_
This story takes place during the aftermath of the war between Azimuth Biotech Corporation and the Anti-Club Accord, which concluded with the signing of the Wandrama Convention, and the complete retreat of Azimuth from the Wandrama system. The events recounted happened during the Azimuth business convention in July of 3309, when the company launched their line of engineered AX Multicannons.
Chapter 1:
Azimuth Biotech Corporate Offices, Cartier City, Xi Wangda System
July 20th 3309
Naomi Moon-Khan sat alone at the head of the table in a dark conference room. The wall at the other end of the room was dominated by a large holo-view screen. The face of a bearded man with triangular blue facial tattoos was being projected from the screen, his giant expression contorted in anger.
He snarled at her in an Imperial accent, “Your sorry excuse of a treaty brings shame to the Order, Acolyte!”
She winced at his words. The light from the hologram reflecting off her face, highlighting her matching blue tattoos.
“Imperator, if you will allow me to explai-”
“YOU GAVE AWAY AZIMUTH’S ENTIRE POSITION! WANDRAMA WAS OURS!”
Naomi stood up. “Wandrama was lost! We lost a fucking war! Where were you? Off on some pilgrimage to a long abandoned Guardian temple? I did what I needed to do to keep them from coming after the Order directly. Or would you have rather I jeopardized our own systems and not used these corporate heathens as a buffer?"
The look of shock on the Imperators face from her candor triggered a sinking feeling in her stomach. “Your Holiness, please forgive me. I meant no disrespect. I simply wish to serve the Caretakers plan.”
The Imperators tone was calmer this time but carried a note of doom with his words. “Acolyte Naomi, do not presume that you are irreplaceable. You will watch your tone when you address me.”
“Yes, Imperator.” She replied.
He continued,” When the time comes, we will rip apart this so-called Wandrama Convention and use it to line the coffins of these ridiculous anti-Club conspiracy theorists. When that time comes, we will need the fools gathering in the banquet hall below to support our Azimuth. . . friends. Now go, smile, and sweet talk those spoiled dilettantes.
Praise be to the Caretaker.”
“Praise be to the Caretaker.” She replied. She reached to deactivate the call.
“Oh and Acolyte? Do not disappoint me again.” He severed the connection. Leaving her alone to process his rage. She stepped away from the conference table and pressed a control on the wall to call a turbolift to her office suite.
Naomi was beginning to regret taking on this assignment. She’d originally looked forward to getting away from the intense fighting of the Thargoid war. The corporate perks and paycheck didn’t hurt. But that wasn't what motivated her.
The Order had told her that she would be able to do more at Azimuth to further their crusade against the Far God than she could ever hope to accomplish fighting interceptors at the front. Officially, she was the public face of Azimuth's new Independent Pilots Initiative. Unofficially, she was there as a liaison between the Order’s clandestine forces and Azimuth Biotech.
The assignment was complicated, but the goal was clear. Strengthen Azimuth in the hopes of escalating the Thargoid war so that humanity would have no hope for survival other than to use the Proteus Wave superweapon again to finally wipe out the alien threat once and for all.
Spending months in the high echelons of the corporation had turned her cynical. Despite their slogans about “Securing our future” or “Protecting Humanity”, no one here seemed concerned with anything beyond their own ambition. To them, all that mattered was power, and credits, which themselves were really just another, commodified form of power. They would all gladly sacrifice entire civilizations if they thought it would secure them a stronger position.
After months of soaking in their brazen ambition, Naomi had even begun to question whether the Imperator was truly working towards humanity’s salvation, or if he himself was just another powermonger, albeit one with a dramatically different flair than her current Azimuth colleagues. Humanity’s Salvation huh? No wonder the Order got mixed up with these psychos. The Imperator and Dr. Wycherly are two peas in a pod.
Naomi took a deep breath and tried to clear her mind of doubt. Regardless of the Imperator’s Ego or Azimuth’s war profiteering, she knew that she was there to protect humanity. The Proteus Wave was the only weapon that anyone had ever come up with that could counter the Thargoids power on the massive scale required to actually defeat them. While its last deployment had backfired spectacularly, she still believed it was the key to stopping them.
She recalled the visions she’d experienced during her initiation rites after she’d joined the Order. The Milky Way was a celestial battleground between two divine beings locked in eternal struggle. The first being, the Caretaker, was the Guardian god. Humanity first learned of the Caretaker when he had intervened to save former Federation President, Jasmina Halsey, after the destruction of the Federation 1 starship. The second being was the Far God, The god of the Thargoids, and a few terribly misguided humans. The Thargoids had been sent by the Far God to enslave humanity and plunge the galaxy into an eternal and frigid darkness. They had to be stopped at any cost.
The Imperator had founded the Order after receiving a vision from the Caretaker which called upon him to form a holy crusade to ensure the salvation of humanity. He regarded Dr. Wycherly, who had named himself Salvation after developing his super-weapon from Guardian technology, as another instrument of the Caretaker’s will. The revelation of the Nemesis Failsafe by Seo Jin-ae had further cemented that opinion. The Caretaker would grant his holy warriors eternal life within the Guardian data network as their reward for exacting his crusade.
Naomi didn’t know what to believe about that. Before she had joined the Order and seen the visions, she had considered herself a scientist. Was it plausible that Salvation had found a way to upload his consciousness into the Guardian data network? Sure. It didn’t matter much to her these days. She was more concerned with saving lives than what would happen to them afterwards if she failed.
The chime of the elevator announcing its arrival stirred her from her contemplation. She realized that she had about two hours before Azimuth CEO, Torben Rademaker, began his keynote speech. It was barely enough time to shower, change, and put on her party face. God I wish I had time for a bath. Light a scented candle. Put on a record. Get my mind off all of this bullshit. She sighed and got into the elevator.
“Habitat ring.” The elevator interface chimed in response. She steadied herself against the wall in anticipation of the turbolift accelerating. Another beep, a dissonant tone. “WARNING. TURBOLIFT SYSTEM FAILURE. PLEASE STAND BY FOR STATION PERSONNEL TO ASSIST YOU." The lights in the elevator went dark, and she heard the downward hum of all the elevator’s systems powering down.
Seriously??? Of all the days to get stuck in an elevator.
She felt a sudden lurch as the turbolift entered freefall. She was lucky to still be wearing magnetic shoes from her flight. She’d not had time to change before the Imperator had called. Fortuitous, as otherwise she would have been thrown into the ceiling. After a few seconds, the turbolift systems rebooted and her descent became a powered one. “Habitat Ring.” There was no response. She attempted to access the manual controls. They were unresponsive. It was obvious to her that she was heading away from her quarters. She lived in one of the penthouses, with a view of the central docking chamber.
Ding! “DECK B289. WASTE DISPOSAL MAINTENANCE.” The turbolift doors opened into a narrow corridor lined with slimy looking machinery. She gingerly stepped out onto the deck. It stinks, but it’s better than being stuck in an elevator. She checked her wearable holo-interface. There was no signal. Guess I have to take the stairs. How long does it take to walk up 400 floors?
She rounded a corner and discovered that the lighting ahead had been disabled. In the dim glow from the corridor behind her, she could make out the vague outline of a man standing about 10 meters ahead. His helmet was much more apparent than his silhouette, blacked out glass with a white skull painted on the face. She recognized it immediately as the same helmet worn by her mysterious counterpart in the Wandrama negotiations, the elusive leader of The Independent Pilots Resistance, an extremist faction within the Anti-Club-Accord. He acted as the Secretary-General of the organization. According to the intelligence reports she’d read, not even the alliance’s other leaders knew his identity. He pressed a button on his wrist and the bulkhead behind Naomi slammed shut.
“Shit! Security!” She yelled. “They can’t hear you, Ms. Moon-Khan. I have taken temporary control of the station's systems on this deck.” His voice was unnaturally deep, an audio effect to conceal identity.
Fear was clear in her voice as Naomi spoke, “You?! H-how did you get in here? What do you want?”
“How I got here is not important. What is important is the choice you are about to make, Ms. Moon-Khan. The fate of the galaxy is at stake.” His latest words brought about a slight lull in her apprehension.
Great, another comic book villain. Not like I have enough of those in my life.
Her relief was short lived as he continued, “You get to decide. You can either do as I ask, or I can kill you right now.”