Neo Chronicles: Black Void
Episode 36: Toe Up
Table of Contents
The ship's toe up. We've already had t'close off entire sections of the boat 'cuz they were missin' walls an' floors. An' of course our fleet's diminished, too.
Those cops really did a number on us. We're a far cry from the massive fleet we used t'be. I haven't crunched the numbers, but if it's just us, then I don't know what we're gonna do about anything.
The control room—think they like t'call it the bridge of the ship—is broke down. Donned with large, shorted out panels an' giant, cracked computer screens along the walls. The biggest screens let us know what's outside. They give us the full view of the outer space surrounding the ship. Closest thing t'windows we got. Might even be better than windows.
Too bad half of 'em our down at the moment. Instead of a clear, crisp picture, we get nothin' but fuzzy lines in some places. That means we're flyin'—or better yet, floatin'—blind out here. Sho' there's a few screens still properly functionin'. Half an image is better than no image, but still.
I look down to the lower deck and see a few aliens luggin' around some big machinery or somethin'. A tall, bulky moss made golem's carryin' around a large crate over his shoulder. A flyin' beetle lookin' somethin' is hallin' around a crate with its arm/leg things. More people're doin' more stuff.
An' I'm jus' sorta hangin' out behind this here console, stayin' outta everyone's way. I look back up at one of the larger computer screen-windows, half hopin' t'see somethin': a blip, a spark, anything really. Still looks like space.
Still looks like nothin'.
Don't get me wrong. Nothin's a good thing. Nothin's a very good thing at this point in time. But still.
We jus' lost Carlos.
I'm in the way. An upright walkin' aardvark steps up, motionin' for the console. I step out, move across from him, watch him press some buttons on the holo-solid keyboard, then make my way towards the exit. I give one last, hopeful glance towards the largest screen on my way out.
Still nothin'.
The hallways don't look any better. There're sparks fallin' from the ceilin', lights out in a few sections down the way, an' still quite a few dead bodies that haven't been cleaned up. I naturally walk in the direction of the only face I'm familiar with.
Rutra, that ol' wasp dude, has seen better days. Looks like he's healin' up alright, doe. He's got all of his appendages an' wings.
“There you are,” he says, lookin' in my direction. I'm not in the mood t'talk, so I don't bother respondin'.
Standin' next t'Rutra is a largely built, brown falcon-man of sorts. He stands upright, strokin' the bottom of his beak like it's a beard. He throws a glance my way. Then his features soften.
“Oh, it's you!” he says with enthusiasm. He extends his hand out, an' pats me on the back with his other.
I look down at his hand—definitely more of a bird talon than anything else—an' shake it to be kind.
“Yeah, he's really somethin',” Rutra chimes in.
“What're you talkin' about?” I ask.
“And so modest. Gotta love it,” Rutra says.
“Darius, is it?” the falcon-man starts out. “I have to say, if it wasn't for you, and the other brave pirates giving their all, there's no doubt in my mind that we'd all be dead.”
“Really? We kinda got our butts handed to us.”
“That we did, but they sent Leos Strike after us.”
“Usually when that happens,” Rutra says, “there's no one left to tell the tale.”
“There's no way we were going to get off scot-free, but somehow we did.”
“That's mostly thanks to Carlos,” I add.
“Ah yes, the teleporter. He certainly changed the tide. When he told me his plan –”
“Wait, his plan?”
“Yes, it was his idea. He knew the risks, but he also knew we had no other option. He sacrificed himself so that we could live another day. That's something I'll never forget.”
I do my best not t'laugh. Dude's really thinkin' of Carlos as a hero. I know better, doe.
Walkin' our way are two more familiar faces.
Mera Ven—the dinosaur lady who's pretending to be a dude—actually looks better than she's been before. It might jus' be the light reflectin', but her green, scaley skin looks like it's glowing. She musta did more of that crazy regeneration thing.
She's draggin' somethin' along with her. No, that's a person. She's draggin' a person along the floor. He's wearin' the same white armor that those cops wore when they were terrorizin' the ship.
Next to Mera, is Kal-Artang. Kal's blue, bunny-eared, yeti-lookin' tale's got another armor-clad, unconscious body thrown over his shoulder.
“FengRi,” Kal calls out.
The falcon-man turns to greet the two. “Ah yes, do you think you've got all of them?” he asks.
“We can't be sure, but I do know they grow thin in numbers. They're becoming harder to find.”
“What are we doin' with those that we do round up?” Rutra asks.
“Locking them up, of course,” Kal answers.
There's a moment of silence as a stray group of pirates walks past us. Kal-Artang uses the moment to place the unconscious soldier along the wall. Then, in a quieter tone than before, he stands back up an' says,
“There's actually a far more pressing matter that we must tend to.”
I see the group look around at each other. Wandering eyes, inquiring glances. Rutra's the first to boldly break the short silence an' ask, “What's that?”
“We need to figure out who our captain should be.”
“What's that supposed to mean?”
“It means our captain didn't make it back, and we're currently without a head,” the falcon-man—FengRi—responds.
Another moment of silence. Kal-Artang sternly glances at FengRi for a moment before going on. “Not many people know this, but from what I've heard around the ship, quite a few have their suspicions.”
“And it would be wise to select a new leader before news about the old leader is confirmed.”
“Who would be confirming it?” Rutra asks. “Nevermind that, who's next in line?” He looks to Kal, “Weren't you his right hand?”
Kal sighs. “Not necessarily. I was more of a soldier. I was brought up to take orders. I couldn't lead.”
“Then who else is there? Scion? What about us?” Rutra then turns to FengRi. “Could you lead?”
“Wouldn't it be best to discuss this in a more private place?” Mera Ven interjects.
“We're pirates.” Rutra completely ignores Mera's comment, an' goes on. “Aren't we all about transparency? One man, one vote? Let's run an election.”
“Our problem is that we don't have the candidates,” FengRi states. “And to have one right after such a calamity? We're fractured, broken. We need to rebuild from that first. Present our brothers with the light of hope.”
“Fine, fine. So we pick the leader. Whatever.”
“Well, I was hoping to keep this more tight knit,” Kal says.
“What does that mean?”
“This is something best left to Scion, FengRi, and myself.”
“You three? C'mon! I've been in just as many grand discussions as you have! Probably more! I never said anything, because I knew when to hold my tongue, but now that all the rest of the old guard is gone, I think it's best to bring in the more common folk. Right Mera?”
Mera slightly jumps at the sound of her name. She doesn't immediately respond. Rutra then turns his attention to me. He expects me to say somethin' t'support his case. Problem is,
I really don't care.
Like, fo'real. I've already tuned out the bulk of this discussion.
“Fine, whatever. Keep it under wraps. Not sayin' I like it, but I won't go against it,” Rutra goes on. “But this is a major issue. However you guys handle it, make sure it gets handled fast. There's too much stuff fallin' apart for nothin' t'get fixed.”
I've found my out. A lapse in the conversation. Don't make much of it. I jus' quietly take a step back, an' start walkin' down the hall. They're still pretty engaged. Whatever new topic they end up goin' into keeps their attention.
*/
The ship looks toe up. I mean, I'm jus' walkin' these halls here, an' there's still broken pieces along the floor. Lights is flickerin' off an' on. Sparks juttin' out from exposed wires. Debris occasionally falls from the ceiling. But if you look around, the ship's not the most broken thing on board.
I see broken people. They're scattered abroad. But not all are broken. In fact, some of the pirates are carryin' on like ain't nothin' happened. Some.
“What're we gonna do about food?”
I slow my pace as I catch wind of a fairly relevant concern.
“It's safe ta say that there planet-raid was a bust. We ain't no better off than we's was b'fore.”
It's a small group. I see them across the hall, jus' huddled together by the bathroom. They're all relaxed, laid back, ain't got no care in the 'verse.
Main speaker dude looks like a man made of putty. A simple man. Two yellow eyes, gray skin, standin' upright, leanin' against the wall with a paper cup of some green sludge he's drinkin'. He's got two arms, two legs. If his face didn't look so clay-face-like, an' if he had some hair, he could almost pass as a super, super pale human. Almost.
“Matta fact, I'd say we's worse off than b'fore. I'm not sayin' the big guys upstairs don't got some grand plan t'solve ev'rything. They prob'ly do. I hope they do, cuz I sure can't think a' nothin'. I'm jus' sayin', we still gotta eat, an' I'm awfully hungry.”
There are about four people around the putty man. Can't really make out who or what they are from this distance. An' most of their backs're towards me.
“All else fails, we could go about eating each other,” I hear one of the guys say. They all get a chuckle out of that.
The putty man's the only one not really amused. He responds, “That's cannibalism.”
“Is it? I mean, none of us are even the same species. On my planet, we ate little bugs that looked like Bol'vek here” the guy, tall an' slender, puts an arm on his short and stout comrade's shoulder.
“And back home, we'd eat Yuseluft for lunch and dinner,” the short dude says in response. The rest of the group gets a hardy laugh out of that.
“Well fine,” the putty man sighs. “Say I's eat you, you's eat him, an' we's all eat each otha. Then what?”
“Oh relax, we're not eatin' anyone.”
“Yeah, I'm sure we'll find a good raid between now and then.”
That's about all I hear before turnin' the corner. The more I think about it, the more I'm startin' t'side with putty man. I place my hand over my belly an' feel a sudden pain that I've been largely ignorin' for a while. I'm reminded of that last fight. When I swung my sword that last time. When I used that aura attack. It drained me. The type of drain that I could compare it to was bein' exhausted, but there was somethin' else t'it, too.
Crud, I'm hungry.
Episode 36: Toe Up
Table of Contents
The ship's toe up. We've already had t'close off entire sections of the boat 'cuz they were missin' walls an' floors. An' of course our fleet's diminished, too.
Those cops really did a number on us. We're a far cry from the massive fleet we used t'be. I haven't crunched the numbers, but if it's just us, then I don't know what we're gonna do about anything.
The control room—think they like t'call it the bridge of the ship—is broke down. Donned with large, shorted out panels an' giant, cracked computer screens along the walls. The biggest screens let us know what's outside. They give us the full view of the outer space surrounding the ship. Closest thing t'windows we got. Might even be better than windows.
Too bad half of 'em our down at the moment. Instead of a clear, crisp picture, we get nothin' but fuzzy lines in some places. That means we're flyin'—or better yet, floatin'—blind out here. Sho' there's a few screens still properly functionin'. Half an image is better than no image, but still.
I look down to the lower deck and see a few aliens luggin' around some big machinery or somethin'. A tall, bulky moss made golem's carryin' around a large crate over his shoulder. A flyin' beetle lookin' somethin' is hallin' around a crate with its arm/leg things. More people're doin' more stuff.
An' I'm jus' sorta hangin' out behind this here console, stayin' outta everyone's way. I look back up at one of the larger computer screen-windows, half hopin' t'see somethin': a blip, a spark, anything really. Still looks like space.
Still looks like nothin'.
Don't get me wrong. Nothin's a good thing. Nothin's a very good thing at this point in time. But still.
We jus' lost Carlos.
I'm in the way. An upright walkin' aardvark steps up, motionin' for the console. I step out, move across from him, watch him press some buttons on the holo-solid keyboard, then make my way towards the exit. I give one last, hopeful glance towards the largest screen on my way out.
Still nothin'.
The hallways don't look any better. There're sparks fallin' from the ceilin', lights out in a few sections down the way, an' still quite a few dead bodies that haven't been cleaned up. I naturally walk in the direction of the only face I'm familiar with.
Rutra, that ol' wasp dude, has seen better days. Looks like he's healin' up alright, doe. He's got all of his appendages an' wings.
“There you are,” he says, lookin' in my direction. I'm not in the mood t'talk, so I don't bother respondin'.
Standin' next t'Rutra is a largely built, brown falcon-man of sorts. He stands upright, strokin' the bottom of his beak like it's a beard. He throws a glance my way. Then his features soften.
“Oh, it's you!” he says with enthusiasm. He extends his hand out, an' pats me on the back with his other.
I look down at his hand—definitely more of a bird talon than anything else—an' shake it to be kind.
“Yeah, he's really somethin',” Rutra chimes in.
“What're you talkin' about?” I ask.
“And so modest. Gotta love it,” Rutra says.
“Darius, is it?” the falcon-man starts out. “I have to say, if it wasn't for you, and the other brave pirates giving their all, there's no doubt in my mind that we'd all be dead.”
“Really? We kinda got our butts handed to us.”
“That we did, but they sent Leos Strike after us.”
“Usually when that happens,” Rutra says, “there's no one left to tell the tale.”
“There's no way we were going to get off scot-free, but somehow we did.”
“That's mostly thanks to Carlos,” I add.
“Ah yes, the teleporter. He certainly changed the tide. When he told me his plan –”
“Wait, his plan?”
“Yes, it was his idea. He knew the risks, but he also knew we had no other option. He sacrificed himself so that we could live another day. That's something I'll never forget.”
I do my best not t'laugh. Dude's really thinkin' of Carlos as a hero. I know better, doe.
Walkin' our way are two more familiar faces.
Mera Ven—the dinosaur lady who's pretending to be a dude—actually looks better than she's been before. It might jus' be the light reflectin', but her green, scaley skin looks like it's glowing. She musta did more of that crazy regeneration thing.
She's draggin' somethin' along with her. No, that's a person. She's draggin' a person along the floor. He's wearin' the same white armor that those cops wore when they were terrorizin' the ship.
Next to Mera, is Kal-Artang. Kal's blue, bunny-eared, yeti-lookin' tale's got another armor-clad, unconscious body thrown over his shoulder.
“FengRi,” Kal calls out.
The falcon-man turns to greet the two. “Ah yes, do you think you've got all of them?” he asks.
“We can't be sure, but I do know they grow thin in numbers. They're becoming harder to find.”
“What are we doin' with those that we do round up?” Rutra asks.
“Locking them up, of course,” Kal answers.
There's a moment of silence as a stray group of pirates walks past us. Kal-Artang uses the moment to place the unconscious soldier along the wall. Then, in a quieter tone than before, he stands back up an' says,
“There's actually a far more pressing matter that we must tend to.”
I see the group look around at each other. Wandering eyes, inquiring glances. Rutra's the first to boldly break the short silence an' ask, “What's that?”
“We need to figure out who our captain should be.”
“What's that supposed to mean?”
“It means our captain didn't make it back, and we're currently without a head,” the falcon-man—FengRi—responds.
Another moment of silence. Kal-Artang sternly glances at FengRi for a moment before going on. “Not many people know this, but from what I've heard around the ship, quite a few have their suspicions.”
“And it would be wise to select a new leader before news about the old leader is confirmed.”
“Who would be confirming it?” Rutra asks. “Nevermind that, who's next in line?” He looks to Kal, “Weren't you his right hand?”
Kal sighs. “Not necessarily. I was more of a soldier. I was brought up to take orders. I couldn't lead.”
“Then who else is there? Scion? What about us?” Rutra then turns to FengRi. “Could you lead?”
“Wouldn't it be best to discuss this in a more private place?” Mera Ven interjects.
“We're pirates.” Rutra completely ignores Mera's comment, an' goes on. “Aren't we all about transparency? One man, one vote? Let's run an election.”
“Our problem is that we don't have the candidates,” FengRi states. “And to have one right after such a calamity? We're fractured, broken. We need to rebuild from that first. Present our brothers with the light of hope.”
“Fine, fine. So we pick the leader. Whatever.”
“Well, I was hoping to keep this more tight knit,” Kal says.
“What does that mean?”
“This is something best left to Scion, FengRi, and myself.”
“You three? C'mon! I've been in just as many grand discussions as you have! Probably more! I never said anything, because I knew when to hold my tongue, but now that all the rest of the old guard is gone, I think it's best to bring in the more common folk. Right Mera?”
Mera slightly jumps at the sound of her name. She doesn't immediately respond. Rutra then turns his attention to me. He expects me to say somethin' t'support his case. Problem is,
I really don't care.
Like, fo'real. I've already tuned out the bulk of this discussion.
“Fine, whatever. Keep it under wraps. Not sayin' I like it, but I won't go against it,” Rutra goes on. “But this is a major issue. However you guys handle it, make sure it gets handled fast. There's too much stuff fallin' apart for nothin' t'get fixed.”
I've found my out. A lapse in the conversation. Don't make much of it. I jus' quietly take a step back, an' start walkin' down the hall. They're still pretty engaged. Whatever new topic they end up goin' into keeps their attention.
*/
The ship looks toe up. I mean, I'm jus' walkin' these halls here, an' there's still broken pieces along the floor. Lights is flickerin' off an' on. Sparks juttin' out from exposed wires. Debris occasionally falls from the ceiling. But if you look around, the ship's not the most broken thing on board.
I see broken people. They're scattered abroad. But not all are broken. In fact, some of the pirates are carryin' on like ain't nothin' happened. Some.
“What're we gonna do about food?”
I slow my pace as I catch wind of a fairly relevant concern.
“It's safe ta say that there planet-raid was a bust. We ain't no better off than we's was b'fore.”
It's a small group. I see them across the hall, jus' huddled together by the bathroom. They're all relaxed, laid back, ain't got no care in the 'verse.
Main speaker dude looks like a man made of putty. A simple man. Two yellow eyes, gray skin, standin' upright, leanin' against the wall with a paper cup of some green sludge he's drinkin'. He's got two arms, two legs. If his face didn't look so clay-face-like, an' if he had some hair, he could almost pass as a super, super pale human. Almost.
“Matta fact, I'd say we's worse off than b'fore. I'm not sayin' the big guys upstairs don't got some grand plan t'solve ev'rything. They prob'ly do. I hope they do, cuz I sure can't think a' nothin'. I'm jus' sayin', we still gotta eat, an' I'm awfully hungry.”
There are about four people around the putty man. Can't really make out who or what they are from this distance. An' most of their backs're towards me.
“All else fails, we could go about eating each other,” I hear one of the guys say. They all get a chuckle out of that.
The putty man's the only one not really amused. He responds, “That's cannibalism.”
“Is it? I mean, none of us are even the same species. On my planet, we ate little bugs that looked like Bol'vek here” the guy, tall an' slender, puts an arm on his short and stout comrade's shoulder.
“And back home, we'd eat Yuseluft for lunch and dinner,” the short dude says in response. The rest of the group gets a hardy laugh out of that.
“Well fine,” the putty man sighs. “Say I's eat you, you's eat him, an' we's all eat each otha. Then what?”
“Oh relax, we're not eatin' anyone.”
“Yeah, I'm sure we'll find a good raid between now and then.”
That's about all I hear before turnin' the corner. The more I think about it, the more I'm startin' t'side with putty man. I place my hand over my belly an' feel a sudden pain that I've been largely ignorin' for a while. I'm reminded of that last fight. When I swung my sword that last time. When I used that aura attack. It drained me. The type of drain that I could compare it to was bein' exhausted, but there was somethin' else t'it, too.
Crud, I'm hungry.
