Episode 130, Interrupted Paths and New Trails
04 Dec 2024Ryuko Ntsikana
Estrellas de la Mirage (M3Q-W9Z)
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The holographic message hung above my desk, its pale glow casting faint shadows on the room. I let it linger as my gaze drifted past it to the window, where the vast emptiness of space framed the earth-like planet below.
“Well, that adds a twist,” Captain Akio remarked, leaning back in his chair.
Tara, seated next to him, tilted her head slightly in agreement. “So, what’s your play here?”
It wasn’t really a question—not from her. She could see the wheels turning, the internal tug-of-war I hadn’t quite resolved. I could spend the next two weeks chasing a ghost ship that might not even exist, playing cat-and-mouse with shadowy rumors. Or I could jump back into the bubble, regroup, and prepare for the Cobra Mk V release.
That ship, if it lived up to its promise, could shift the balance of my carrier’s hangar. Within a year's time, I’d amassed more assets than I’d ever dreamed of, but it was starting to feel unwieldy—a clutter of ships and modules that needed organizing.
I glanced at them both. “That’s not really the question that needs answering.”
Tara stood, walking to the window. She leaned one shoulder against the glass, arms crossed, blocking my view. “No,” she said softly, her tone deliberate, “but I know that look in your eyes.”
I watched her push away from the window, her movements fluid as she perched on the edge of my desk. Her gaze locked with mine. “You’re weighing your desires right now,” she continued. “The pirate in you wants to chase down this elusive ghost ship, see what’s out there, and maybe even raid it.”
Her words hung in the air as she slid off the desk and moved back to her chair. “But what you’ve become knows the smarter move is to return to the bubble. It’s the only place you can get the materials you need to outfit the new ship when it leaves the factory.”
Akio’s eyes flicked to Tara, his expression slightly unsettled. Few would dare to walk so freely into the shipowner’s space—let alone use his desk as a stage. But Tara wasn’t just anyone.
I leaned forward, resting my forearms on the desk, and let out a slow breath. “You already know we’re going back to the bubble. That’s not the question.”
“Yes,” Tara said, a smirk tugging at her lips. “We both know that’s not what’s eating at you. The destination is obvious. You’re wondering how to mitigate the risk to Ceri. That’s the real question.”
Captain Akio turned in his chair, his brow arching in concern. “Are we considering getting back into bed with Beau and his system?”
His caution was warranted, but Beau—the man—wasn’t the issue. I knew him too well for that. In Beau’s eyes, Ceri was a loose end, a failed first-time pirate. That she was out of his hair suited him just fine. He already knew she was part of my crew and didn’t care in the slightest.
The real question wasn’t about Beau, the person. It was about Beau, the bartender—his position as the face of his clan in that system. That role carried responsibilities, and personal opinions didn’t factor into them. Our past dealings had been mutually profitable, but Ceri’s departure and how she ended up with me? That would have left a mark, not on Beau the man, but on Beau the bartender. And in his line of work, stains like that didn’t fade easily.
“Take us back to the same system we operated from last time,” I said.
Captain Akio nodded, excusing himself as he left the bridge wing office to prepare the ship.
Tara remained seated, her gaze fixed on me. “I didn’t want to say it in front of anyone, but your anxiety about Ceri and Beau is the least of your concerns.” She leaned forward slightly, her voice soft yet pointed, a faint smile playing on her lips. “What you’re dealing with, my dear pirate, is what the ancients called a fork in the road. You’ve risen rapidly. You’ve established a legacy for your mentor. You’ve built a mobile empire.”
She paused, letting her words hang in the air as she studied me. A small sigh escaped her lips as her smile widened.
“The goals that once drove you? They’re complete.” She motioned at the room, the carrier, the office itself. “And now, you have this.”
Her words hit hard because they were true. I held her gaze for a long moment, saying nothing. You could lose yourself in those eyes of hers, and I nearly did.
“You don’t need to return to the bubble,” she continued. “Everything you need for the new ship—you already have. That’s what’s gnawing at you now.”
She wasn’t wrong. Damned if her insight didn’t cut straight through me. When she bonded with me after her activation, it was as if she had rewired herself to think just like me.
“Other capital ship commanders,” she went on, “hoard ships and modules, amassing arsenals they never use. But you’ve always been different—lean, efficient. Everything has to serve more than one purpose, and you never keep more than you need.”
She gestured with a slow sweep of her arm, her voice growing more resolute. “Right now, all of this—the excess, the clutter—is eating at you. Deep down, you’ve already made up your mind. You’re going to strip those ships for parts to outfit the new one. Then you’ll sell them off. Going back to the bubble? That’s just an excuse to test the new ship and put your house in order.”
Her tone softened, her smile taking on a conspiratorial edge. “No one else but us needs to know your true motives.”
Midway through the return voyage, an all-alert broadcast reached us from beyond the rim: the last remaining Thargoid Titan, along with fleets of other Thargoid ships, had set their course for the Sol system.
Panic swept through the galaxy. Human ships scrambled in emergency evacuations, their frantic movements clogging the system’s space lanes. Reports of Thargoid interdictions on these fleeing vessels flooded the news cycles, amplifying the chaos. The major powers’ navies scrambled to establish lines of resistance, while swarms of alien fighters—and even their admirers—rushed toward Sol.
Onboard my carrier, the rumors spread like wildfire. The crew buzzed with speculation, waiting to hear whether we would answer the call.
I had no intention of dragging Meredith and Ashlyn into that mess. Frankly, I didn’t care about those fighting against the Thargoids—or those fighting for them. Sure, the payouts for taking on the aliens were rumored to be astronomical, but my gut told me this wasn’t the place to earn them.
The Thargoids weren’t stupid. From everything I’d read and heard, they weren’t mindless destroyers. If they were aiming for humanity’s cradle, it wasn’t going to be a reckless charge. It was going to be calculated, and I wasn’t about to park myself or my crew in their way.
I sat in the galley, picking at a meal while trying to drown out the constant buzz of alerts and updates. My patience was wearing thin. The endless media and influencer spin cycles were fueling the rumor mill in ways that weren’t healthy for the crew. Whatever decision we made was ours alone. I’d be damned if I let some overpaid pundit fill my people’s heads with their own biases.
If this nonsense didn’t stop soon, I’d terminate all incoming transmissions. Maybe then I could enjoy a meal in peace.
As I picked at my food, Tara and Raven walked into the galley together. They located me easily, weaving through the tables before seating themselves across from me.
Tara’s gaze locked onto mine, her sensors no doubt detecting the tension rolling off me over the current news. Raven, on the other hand, carried the air of a brigand with a plan, a cheeky smirk stretched across his face.
“Since we’re heading back to the bubble, and with all the scare-mongering going on,” Raven began, leaning back in his chair, “I figured we could profit while the others play it safe in nearby systems.”
I stabbed at my food, trying to block out the hushed conversations of nearby crew members while I worked on finding my appetite.
“You have my attention,” I muttered.
“You’ve got an Orca-class ship gathering dust, no purpose for it right now. I’ve been sitting on a stash of modules, also unused. Together, they’d kit the ship out nicely. I could use it to save some of those desperate souls paying premium fares to get away from the big bad bugs.”
I studied Raven carefully. His grin broadened, but his eyes were hollow—haunted. Whatever memories were surfacing clearly weren’t pleasant.
“You’ve dealt with Thargoids before?” I asked, my voice quieter than I intended.
Raven’s smile lingered, but his voice grew softer. “We all have our pasts.”
I hadn’t known he had firsthand knowledge of the aliens. I’d heard the stories, of course—cockpits melting from corrosive weaponry, survivors who ejected only to be captured. Nobody really knew what happened to those poor souls after that.
“Look,” Raven continued, his tone gaining strength, “I’ve got modules for my Krait Phantom that I’ve used against them. There’s more where that came from—stuff I scavenged from wrecks during the lunar battles we fought. Like your Orca, they’re doing nothing right now. Why not put them to work and make some credits before things get worse?”
I hesitated, glancing between him and Tara. She said nothing, but her posture screamed caution.
“I don’t have any experience with Thargoids,” I admitted. “No frame of reference to even say yes or no. But if you think the Orca can handle it, go ahead.”
Raven’s expression didn’t shift, but the hollowness in his eyes deepened. “You’re welcome to join me for a rescue flight. See them with your own eyes. Videos don’t do them justice.”
Tara’s head snapped toward me, her protective protocols practically radiating from her. She didn’t speak, but the subtle shake of her head was enough.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, but I willed myself not to fidget. Raven didn’t need to see me squirm. “What’s our exposure?”
“Minimal,” Raven replied, his tone shifting back to his usual self-assured confidence. “There’s always a chance we’ll get hyperdicted somewhere along the way, but the Orca I’ll build can outrun most of them with ease. The ones it can’t? It’ll have enough countermeasures to hold them off until we jump away.”
“What kind of speeds are we talking?”
“I’ll get your Orca up to 636 meters a second, no problem. That’s with countermeasures in place—shutdown pulse neutralizer, caustic sink, the works. If we have to boost through one of their clouds, we’ll shed it before it eats through the hull. And I’ve got other tricks too. I wouldn’t be sitting here pitching this if I didn’t know what I was doing.”
A speed of 636 meters per second on a passenger liner? That was faster than most light racing ships. I had to fight to keep my face neutral.
“What about those countermeasures?”
“Simple enough. The neutralizer stops their shutdown pulses, and the caustic sink clears anything they hit us with. Hell, I’m not saying it’s a picnic. Even with my experience, those bastards can get under your skin. But trust me—I’ve done this hundreds of times. We’ll be fine.”
Tara’s gaze bore into mine, her concern evident even without a word. I didn’t need her to say it. I already knew how dangerous this was. But Raven was Raven. If anyone could pull this off, it was him.
“What kind of profit margin are we looking at?” I asked.
Raven’s smirk returned, confidence radiating from him. “With 90 passengers in economy modules? We’re talking 18 to 20 million credits, one way. And that’s without trying too hard. People will pay their last credit to escape before their version of a capital ship shows up.”
I leaned back, arms crossed. “And if this thing shows up during the run?”
“No worries,” Raven said with a shrug. “It couldn’t catch us on its best day and our worst. We’d be out of there before it could even decide we were worth the effort.”
Tara’s brow furrowed, but she remained silent, letting me weigh the options.
I exhaled through my nose, finally nodding. “Alright, modify the ship. The price is right, and you’re pushing hard enough to convince me. Let’s see what you’ve got.”