Episode 144, Unknown variables
01 Jan 2025Ryuko Ntsikana
Unknown variables
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After the day he’d had, Galileo was exhausted. A2—or Achoo, as he’d nicknamed his android tutor—sat across from him in the Cobra’s cramped dining area. Galileo cupped a warm mug of black tea in his hands, breathing in its synthetic sweet-milk substitute aroma. The comforting scent was a small reprieve after the chaos of his first day driving the eight-wheeled Surface Reconnaissance Vehicle (SRV).
That day had nearly ended in disaster. Galileo had driven ground vehicles before, but the SRV was an entirely different beast. His first attempt to use its boost thrusters, meant for clearing obstacles, almost flipped the vehicle. It had gyrated wildly, only barely landing back on its tires after rising a couple of meters into the air. It was a rough lesson, but he survived it.
Thankfully, he managed to gather raw minerals from the volcanic sites Achoo had guided him to. Each discovery felt like a small victory as he methodically farmed the materials he’d need to engineer the ship’s internal modules. Achoo, ever the diligent tutor, didn’t let up, frequently reminding Galileo to scan every ship and hyperspace wake he encountered. Those scans increased his store of encoded data—another critical resource engineers would demand.
What remained now were the manufactured materials. For those, Achoo explained, they’d need to revisit resource-rich extraction sites located in the pristine rings of a nearby gas giant.
For grade-five engineering, Achoo had calculated Galileo would need 57 raw, 133 manufactured, and 26 encoded materials, not to mention the specific requirements of each individual engineer he’d visit.
“This is all too much,” Galileo muttered, staring into his tea as if it held answers. “How is anyone supposed to keep track of all this?”
“You did ask how extensive it would be,” Achoo replied in a matter-of-fact tone, his synthetic voice steady. “And I told you: it has its own rewards. As you’re learning, the path to bringing your ship and its modules to their full potential is not without cost. But progress is measurable.”
Galileo frowned, unconvinced. “It feels like I’m throwing effort into a black hole. The list just keeps getting longer.”
Achoo’s glowing eyes dimmed briefly in what Galileo had learned to interpret as a gesture of patience. “Consider this: you have already gathered critical raw materials. You’ve logged useful encoded data. All that remains now are manufactured components, which can be collected in tandem with your next task—returning to the resource extraction rings. There, you can supplement your earnings by taking on lower-tier bounties. Efficiency will be your ally.”
Galileo sighed, leaning back in his seat. “Yeah, efficiency. Tell that to the SRV that almost ate dust today.”
Achoo’s tone turned faintly amused. “Practice improves skill, Commander. The SRV will not be the last challenge you’ll master on this journey.”
Galileo shook his head, a weary smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, well, let’s hope tomorrow doesn’t try to kill me. Again.”
Achoo’s eyes glowed softly, the faint light reflecting off the dim surfaces of the ship’s cabin. “Unfortunately, there’s no way to fast-track the journey you’re on, other than not doing it—but then you’d be forever at a critical disadvantage.”
Galileo frowned, memories of his Viper Mk. IV’s demise replaying in his mind. “Yeah, I know something about being critically disadvantaged. It wasn’t a good feeling.”
He shifted in his seat and asked, “Achoo, I’ve got a question for you. My last ship, before I lost my contract, was a Viper Mk. IV. I got into a fight with a Cobra Mk. V—a lot like this one—but there was nothing I could do to shake them or force them out in front. They were using some kind of weapon I’d never seen before. It was like a caustic shell, engineered for frag or multi-cannons, but this one was a missile. Left a green trail behind it. Ate through my hull, then started dissolving my internal modules. Left me no choice but to eject.”
“Do you have a record of the engagement?”
Galileo waved a hand around. “The log was transferred to this ship when I got it.”
Achoo paused for a moment, his glowing eyes dimming slightly as he accessed the system.
“A stock Cobra Mk. V is faster than a Viper Mk. IV,” Achoo began. “But ship-to-ship, stock versus stock, with your level of competency, you should’ve held your own better—even against a more experienced pilot.”
“Well, that makes me feel just great,” Galileo muttered. “What about the weapon?”
“You shouldn’t feel inadequate. Based on the logs, you were facing an engineered Cobra Mk. V. There was nothing you could’ve done differently that would’ve changed the outcome.”
“As for the weapon…” Achoo’s voice paused, as if measuring his response. “There is a unique system developed by Sirius Corporation—the same manufacturer responsible for my design. It was an attempt to reverse-engineer Thargoid-derived caustic enzymes into human weapons. By most accounts, the project was a failure. It had no effect on Thargoids, and most humans who tested it found it underwhelming against standard targets.”
“Underwhelming?” Galileo scoffed. “It melted my ship from the inside out. I wouldn’t call that underwhelming.”
“Most humans prioritize weapons that deliver quick kills, favoring efficiency over ingenuity. For such individuals, this weapon is of limited use. However, based on the tactics and precision in your logs, you encountered an operator of a different breed.”
“What do you mean?” Galileo asked, narrowing his eyes.
“They didn’t destroy your escape pod. That alone is telling. Most combatants—pirates, mercenaries—would finish the job. They crave the immediate rewards of destruction. But this pilot was methodical, patient, and deliberate.”
Galileo shivered slightly. “Why does that not make me feel any better?”
“Because you’re right to be concerned,” Achoo said. “This wasn’t a random skirmish. The way they engaged, targeted, and dismantled your ship suggests intent. They weren’t simply destroying—they were dissecting. It’s evident in the weapons they used and the precision of their strikes.”
“Let’s start with the shield drop,” Achoo continued. “That wasn’t just a beam laser. It was engineered with a thermal vent modification to minimize their heat signature. Alone, it wouldn’t have stripped your shields so rapidly. However, logs suggest they also employed a modified burst laser—a Cytoscrambler variant, specifically. Engineered with focus and inertial impact effects, it would have shredded your shields at close range and delivered significant armor-piercing damage.”
Galileo frowned. “I remember my hull weakening before the first missile hit. What about that?”
“Corrosive multi-cannon rounds,” Achoo explained. “Based on the logs, their multi-cannon was engineered with corrosive shells. These would’ve reduced your hull integrity by 20%, making the enzyme missiles even more devastating. Everything they did was coordinated to dismantle you piece by piece.”
Galileo sat back, stunned. “No… they knew exactly what they were doing. Every shot was precise. They hit my midsection, avoiding the cockpit. They didn’t want to kill me—they wanted to force me to eject.”
“Precisely,” Achoo confirmed. “In their hands, those weapons weren’t failures—they were surgical tools. And their intent wasn’t destruction; it was domination. They played the long game, knowing you had no option but to abandon ship.”
Galileo stared into the cabin, his tea cooling in his hands. “And here I thought pirates were the least of my problems.”
“Not all predators wear the same stripes,” Achoo said quietly. “Some fight for survival, others kill for sport. But the deadliest ones are patient hunters. That’s who you faced.”
Galileo took a slow sip of his tea, his hands trembling slightly as he set the cup down. “You’re saying they weren’t just pirates looking for a quick kill or a payout. They were hunting me... deliberately?”
Achoo’s glowing eyes flickered briefly, a thoughtful gesture. “Precisely. The combination of weaponry and their strategic application points to an individual or group with exceptional discipline and a clear objective. This wasn’t an act of random violence; it was calculated.”
Galileo frowned, leaning back in his chair. “Calculated? For what? They didn’t take anything from me. They left the outpost in ruins and didn’t even finish me off. Why go through all the effort?”
“Their motives remain unknown, but their methods suggest they were sending a message—or perhaps testing you.”
“Testing me? For what? To see how fast I eject?” Galileo’s voice was tinged with frustration, though a hint of unease lingered beneath it.
“They chose not to kill you,” Achoo replied calmly. “That decision is deliberate. Pirates, even skilled ones, typically see an ejected pilot as an opportunity—either for ransom, interrogation, or, in more savage cases, execution. The fact they let you go suggests your destruction wasn’t their goal. They were precise enough to destroy your Viper without harming you. That speaks volumes.”
Galileo’s forehead furrowed as he tried to piece together the implications. “So, what? They’re some kind of rogue with a moral code? A vigilante?”
“Possibly,” Achoo allowed. “But it’s just as likely they were sending a message to someone else entirely—perhaps even the faction that employed you. Or they were testing the effectiveness of their tactics against a skilled pilot in a capable ship.”
Galileo shook his head. “They didn’t need to go that far to prove a point. They could’ve just smashed the outpost and been done with it.”
“True,” Achoo admitted. “But consider this: you survived. You’re now here, questioning their actions. That in itself may have been the intent. A predator with patience doesn’t always kill; sometimes it lets its prey live to serve a larger purpose.”
“That’s not comforting,” Galileo muttered.
“It wasn’t meant to be.” Achoo’s tone softened slightly. “But it is enlightening. Whoever piloted that Cobra Mk. V had experience and resources far beyond the average. They engineered their ship and weaponry with surgical precision and executed their plan without fault. That kind of discipline is rare.”
“So what now?” Galileo asked, staring into his tea as if it held answers. “Do I go after them? Avoid them?”
“Neither,” Achoo advised. “For now, focus on yourself. Build your ship’s capabilities, expand your knowledge, and enhance your skills. If they were testing you, they’ll be watching.”
Galileo took another slow sip of his tea, his gaze distant as he recounted his unsettling experience. “I was taken captive by another crew and brought to a fleet carrier. There, I met the oddest couple. I don’t know much about the alien Thargoids, but I’ve seen enough media to recognize their ships. This carrier had a desk made from what looked like Thargoid materials—green, with this eerie blue-green glow that highlighted everything. One item stood out: a glowing casket with strange geometric designs.”
Achoo’s holographic imager activated, displaying a sequence of alien artifacts.
Galileo leaned forward, scrutinizing the images, then pointed at one. “Wait, that’s it. That’s the casket.”
Achoo’s eyes brightened subtly as he processed the input. “That is a Guardian casket. The Guardians were an ancient alien race and adversaries of the Thargoids, millions of years ago. And you’re saying these people had this, alongside a desk made of Thargoid material?”
Galileo nodded, his brow furrowing. “Yeah. One of their people took me as a prisoner to that carrier, where this stuff was on display. The desk was big and green, definitely made from the Thargoid material in the image.”
Achoo adjusted the display, pulling up images of Thargoid ships—deadly, flower-like constructs that Galileo immediately recognized. “Like this?”
“Exactly. One of their desks was made from that stuff. The whole setup was macabre,” Galileo replied.
“Did this couple speak with you?” Achoo asked, his voice measured.
“At first, it was just questions—who I was, why I was at the outpost. Eventually, the woman unbound me and offered me a contract to become a rescue service pilot for them.”
“When you were captured at the outpost ruins, you were restrained?”
“Yes, but I can’t blame them. For all they knew, I was a threat,” Galileo admitted.
Achoo’s gaze shifted subtly as he accessed additional information. “I am cross-referencing the recorded system activity logs from that period.”
Galileo chuckled bitterly. “Don’t bother. I’ve already pieced some of it together. They were the same people who attacked the outpost, weren’t they?”
“Yes,” Achoo confirmed. “They targeted the outpost for its data and any valuable cargo. However, the unanticipated arrival of rival fleet carriers disrupted their plans. You were not an intended variable, but they wouldn’t leave you there to perish or fall into someone else’s hands. Their decision to bring you aboard was pragmatic—and, by some standards, noble.”
“Noble pirates?” Galileo scoffed. “I started to suspect as much. Then the man claimed they didn’t take hostages or sell captives, it didn’t sit right. That’s not how pirates operate.”
“As I mentioned earlier, their approach is unconventional,” Achoo said. “They adapt their methods to the situation. When their plans were interrupted by the rival carriers—and your unexpected presence—they improvised. They rescued you, offered you a position, and then returned you to safety after you declined. Their calculated generosity serves a purpose.”
Galileo narrowed his eyes. “What purpose?”
“I don’t know,” Achoo replied. It was the first time Galileo had seen him confused. “Perhaps they contract pirates but are not themselves? That would not explain the macabre choice in office designs. Without more data, who and-or what they are remains unknown.”
Galileo sighed, swirling around the tea in his cup. “So, what may be known is the choice in weaponry used, but not purpose or intent?”
Achoo’s eyes pulsated for a moment as he ran the calculations again. “Statistically that has the highest percentage of being correct.”
The low hum of the ship’s powerplant filled the momentary silence. Achoo’s eyes brightened, the soft glow giving his mechanical expression a thoughtful quality.
“Have you considered contacting them again to see if their offer still stands?” he asked. “The answers you seek, along with the goals for your training and ship, may align with their offer.”
“I’m not a pirate, A2,” Galileo replied, his tone firm. “Their kind don’t have a long life expectancy, and I plan on seeing more of this galaxy before my time is up.”
“They didn’t want you for pirating,” Achoo countered. “As for what they are? We lack sufficient data. Do you recall the system or the name of the carrier?”
Galileo furrowed his brow, thinking. “Sort of. It was something nox, something. In a language I’m not familiar with.”
Achoo’s eyes dimmed briefly as he accessed the ship’s databases, then brightened again. “Yes, I’ve located them. The Tengoku Nox Aeterna, or Heaven of the Eternal Night. An ominous name, to be sure. They’re currently in an uninhabited system, twenty-one light-years from our present location.”
Galileo sighed, already suspecting where this was heading. “Let me guess—you want me to contact them?”
“Yes,” Achoo replied without hesitation. “But only to gather more information. Don’t agree to anything. My directive is to aid and tutor you. Your ship and personal growth remain the priority. If this route offers the best opportunity, we must know. Knowledge is your best asset.”
Galileo took a deep breath, staring at the dimming starfield visible through the cockpit window. “Fine. But if this ends with me flying into some mess, you’re paying for the repairs.”
“Understood,” Achoo said, his tone as close to a smirk as a machine could manage. “Shall we begin?”