A 10mm LAC projectile delivers 2.5 megajoules of energy to its target. One round will make life extremely unpleasant for anyone riding inside a light armoured vehicle. Three rounds will effectively disembowel a charging Onos. You don't want to know what happens when FOUR rounds strike a Kharaa hive. Let's just say you'll need two buckets.
One of them is for your personal use.
I fast-forwarded through the remainder of the crew's recordings, before filing them away for future reference. JUNO rose from her seat and stood smartly to attention, her bearing a masterpiece of spit and polish.
Ah, yes. There's one last piece of official business that we must attend to.
As was expected of me, I also rose and braced to attention.
"Crew data logs have been duly received in good order and reviewed, Captain JUNO. All personnel mission time codes are now synchronised. Mission commander is reporting as fully operational and ready for duty. How do you stand, Ma'am?"
JUNO saluted. "Mission log updated accordingly. I stand relieved, Sir. You have the conn, Captain."
"Thank you, Commander. I congratulate you and the crew for completing the mission. Well done."
I returned to my seat. To my surprise, JUNO stolidly remained at attention.
"Is there anything else to report, JUNO? If not, please sit down and enjoy your breakfast."
"Sir, I wish to submit myself for official reprimand. I stand guilty of conduct unbecoming an officer. In particular, my choice of words prior to the termination of the Kharaa hive." JUNO said stiffly.
If that was the full extent of her sins as an officer, most of the Terran Fleet would be in irons by now. I waved her confession away airily. Sometimes, it's possible to be too punctilious. He that lives by The Book will be swamped by needless paperwork. It's best just to let this one slide.
"Och, awa' wit' that, Lass." I said, chuckling amiably. "The Merchant Service has a time-honoured tradition of resorting to profane speech in stressful situations. Ye would'na be the first, and you're no' the last to drop a wee F-bomb in the heat o' the moment. Consider yourself officially reprimanded... And for pity's sake, please take your ease. I daresay you've earned it."
"Thank you, Sir." JUNO replied.
Just as DIGBY had finished serving, Héloise strolled into the mess-hall, rubbing sleep from her eyes.
"Ah, bon. I am not too late after all." She murmured. As she took her seat, DIGBY popped up.
"Good afternoon, Mme. Maida." DIGBY said graciously, "What may I prepare for you?"
"Whatever you feel like cooking, M'sieur DIGBY. Shimatta... I could eat a Reefback!" She growled.
"Of course. Bleu, rare, medium or well-done, Ma'am?" DIGBY enquired gravely.
Ultimately, Héloise settled for a cheese omelette and seaweed salad instead. As we ate, I noticed that she was studying my features intently. For a moment, I thought that my face hadn't been installed properly. IANTO noticed this wordless exchange, surreptitiously stroking his chin to prompt me. Gorram it. I'd forgotten to make that 'little change' Héloise so earnestly desired.
Feeling slightly foolish, I accessed the relevant physical subsystems and issued a command for hair growth. Time to bite the bullet, as they say. I've never been a huge fan of facial hair, although Héloise considers it attractive. It wouldn't kill me to sport a wee chin-sporran, I suppose.
Here goes...
Héloise yelped in surprise. With an embarrassingly audible boof, a misshapen cloud of hair erupted from my scalp and face. Well, so much for trying to do this without a visual frame of reference.
As I struggled to shape the hair into something slightly more presentable, she giggled. "Loup-garou!"
"Not helpful, my dear." I muttered sourly. "Okay. These settings turn me into a werewolf. Got it."
Little by little, I managed to get a decent handle on controlling the length and density of those wayward nano-fibres. Even so, there were still a number of unfortunate moments. By now, the crew were watching my antics with rather more than casual interest. I definitely caught DIGBY smirking after one particular incident with the eyebrows. It doesn't help that the control interface isn't quite as intuitive as I would prefer, although I'm fairly certain that any of the crew would be able to handle this blasted hair-growing business with disconcerting ease.
JUNO leaned forward, a sardonic smile on her face. She was clearly enjoying this, damn her eyes.
"I must say, that new style looks particularly splendid, Sir. I would suggest twining a few smouldering cannon-matches into your hair and beard to achieve the full 'swashbuckler' effect."
I had to walk over to the viewport to get a better view of my latest effort. Hmmm. Close, but not quite tidy enough to suit my own taste. I turned around to get Héloise's opinion, although her noncommittal shrug wasn't particularly helpful. Comme ci, comme ça. It seems there's more to this caper than simply being hairy. Mind you, a shaving mirror would have been useful at this point. I'm certain that there's a crate-load somewhere in The Broch's storage inventory, but it's hardly worth the effort to drag one out. I've always shaved without using one.
Unbeknownst to me, IANTO had summoned a camera drone and positioned it facing the viewport. Obviously, this amused Héloise and the crew no end, as I could hear their stifled laughter and whispered comments as I struggled to control each new hairstyle. However, I was definitely gaining the upper hand now, and their comments became increasingly complimentary.
Finally, I found something that I can live with. An old-style Royal Navy 'full set'. One combined beard and moustache, groomed in accordance with Admiralty regulations. Judging by her delighted reaction, Héloise found its allure more than adequate.
I breathed a heartfelt sigh of relief. With the Kharaa done for, we can safely return to the everyday business of getting the hell off this planet. I excused myself from the mess table immediately after finishing that ridiculously late breakfast, although I would have preferred to linger a while over a well-earned second mug of tea. Unfortunately, duty calls. There are still a few loose ends to tie up before we can safely call it a day.
My first stop was the Bridge.
After settling into a chair, I opened a communication channel to Kaori-san no-shima.
"Nǐ hǎo, Administrator Li. Selkirk here."
Li Huang's face spread into a delighted grin. He quickly tapped a pane on his comms panel, activating a video link with the other council members. Although Héloise was still here in The Broch, her face appeared on the screen a few seconds later. Still eating a slice of toast, by the look of it.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. The Kharaa infestation has been wiped out. It's over, on this planet at least." I said bluntly. "I'm uploading a transcript of our mission right now. Complete and unexpurgated. However, I should warn you that this data contains some highly disturbing images, so you may want to exercise some discretion regarding its release to the general population."
"We understand, Captain. What about Polyakov and his men? Are they still alive down there?"
"No, they were absorbed by the Kharaa a goodly time before we arrived. They ceased to exist as human entities from that point onward. As you'd imagine, there was absolutely nothing we could do to save them. On a personal note, I'd say that Justice has been fairly served today. The gravity of their collective crimes against your colony ultimately condemned them. For the record, I accept sole responsibility for administering extreme sanction upon Polyakov and his associates."
The committee nodded gravely in agreement. Although no-one would openly admit it, Polyakov's demise was something earnestly desired and long overdue, at least as far as most of the colonists were concerned. Judging by the variety of appalled expressions on their faces, I'd hazard a guess they were now taking a sneak peek at the mission video feed. I bided my time patiently, allowing them to come up to speed with current events.
Excuse me, folks. It's time for a quick tea-break.
By the time I sat down again, there were quite a few queasy faces on my monitor. Mme. Patel looked fit to burst into hysterical tears at any second now, and the rest were looking decidedly unsettled. Fair do's. They were adequately warned. This wasn't the sort of video that's best viewed with a nice tub of popcorn and a six-pack of Newkie Broon ale within easy reach. However, time was running away with us, so I remotely killed the committee's video feed.
"My apologies, ladies and gentlemen. I was rather hoping ye'd view that mess at your own leisure. A sight that's best forgotten at the earliest opportunity, I'd say." I admitted ruefully. "Now, just to cover the last few items of immediate business... Word of warning; me and the crew will be taking some down-time all day tomorrow. Maintenance and whatnot, ye ken? At 0700 on the following morning, DSV Exodus will collect all colonists in preparation for temporary transfer to our base. You will be able to return to Kaori-san no-shima within 72 hours. Please advise the colonists to leave all of their personal effects at your base, so that they can also be decontaminated. Any questions?"
The following morning, JUNO practically shooed Héloise and I out of the base. When pressed for an explanation, JUNO replied that the crew were scheduled for maintenance and upgrades, and this rare spot of free time might be best enjoyed in a far more salubrious setting. I concurred, since Héloise might not be entertained by the sight of her friends in various states of dismemberment. After breakfast, DIGBY's surprise gift of a finely-stocked picnic hamper more than clinched the deal.
A jug of wine, a loaf of bread and thou...
Disco Volante and Artemis hadn't had a decent run in ages. With no real plan in mind at this point, I took Héloise out to visit the Aurora memorial first. After conducting a sonar sweep of the area to ensure that no Reapers were lurking nearby, we exited our Seamoths and swam over to the monument. As we climbed out of the water, Héloise gazed in wonder at the towering structure.
"I still can't believe that you made this. Magnifique!" she breathed in awe. "To be alone with your grief is bad enough, but to bear that burden while working on this... " She shook her head. "Words fail me, Chérie. You are truly an extraordinary man."
"And you're an extraordinary woman. I could'na ask for anyone better at my side. Come on, Dear Heart, we'll go and pay our respects." I took her hand gently, and we slowly trod the short flight of stairs leading up to the monument's base. The first rays of dawn shimmered faintly on the horizon. I set down my backpack and withdrew a small flask of 25-year old single malt whisky. After opening it, I solemnly poured a goodly measure onto the nanocrete plinth, then raised the flask on high.
"To my old shipmates. May fair seas and a following wind guide you home at last. Rest ye easy."
I passed the flask over to Héloise. She took a hefty slug of that fiery liquor, then passed it back. I took the last swig and carefully stowed the empty bottle for later disposal. We stood quietly as the sun rose into view; our shadows cast onto the spire in silent communion with Aurora's fallen. I have visited this site in fond remembrance every year without fail, although this time seems particularly poignant. With construction of Borealis underway, this visit may well be my last.
Our observances made, we headed for the Shallows to begin what promised to be a day of blissful inactivity. It was unanimously agreed that any physical effort expended today should be entirely unproductive, and if possible, exquisitely pleasant to the utmost degree. A mighty fine notion.
By pure chance or unconscious design, we ended up in the exact location of my first permanent base on Manannán. Permanent, at least until it was pulverised by De Ruyter's mass-driver cannons. The crater seemed unremarkable now, as it was vibrant with sea life after little more than a century had elapsed. There was no wreckage at all, no physical reminder of that ghastly incident. Even so, I will carry the memory of that dark day into a fair chunk of eternity. That's the problem with having absolute memory recall. All it takes is one wee mnemonic trigger, and it all comes flooding back. Eventually, you learn to live with it. You do whatever it takes, or cave in and descend into madness.
My sombre reminiscences were abruptly cut short. The HUD flashed an amber warning.
+++ CAUTION. PROXIMITY ALERT. UNKNOWN LIFE FORM DETECTED. EXERCISE CAUTION. +++
An internal sensor sweep of the area revealed a fair amount of water displacement 120 metres out, dead in line with a dense Creepvine thicket. Whatever it was, it was moving at a decent clip and heading straight for us. I readied my repulsion cannon.
"Heads up. We've got company. One hundred metres, and closing fast."
"Any idea what it is?" Héloise asked quietly, unclipping her cannon from its harness point.
"None, I'm afraid. Turbulence readings aren't that precise, although I can tell there's at least two of them now, and they're jinking about something fierce. Closest dynamic pattern match is a pair of Stalkers. I'd say that's worth a bit of caution on our part, but they're not exactly an unknown species. Hang on... They are definitely chasing something, and it's small. Here they come!"
There was a sudden commotion behind a large coral head directly in front of us. A minor maelstrom of sand and stones whipped up, partially masking the sleek forms of the Stalkers as they twisted and snapped at our mysterious visitor. Obviously, it had gone to ground somewhere inside the coral head, and they knew precisely where it was hiding. On any other day, I wouldn't have stepped in to rescue a prey species, Circle of Life and all that. However, this new creature had me intrigued. Although its life signs were barely detectable at this distance, one thing was absolutely certain. It was utterly terrified. Understandable, but a rather atypical depth of emotion from your average fish.
Puzzling.
"Quietly now. We'll sneak up on them from either side. Twenty per cent, tight beam, rapid pulse."
We swam toward the coral head, hugging the bottom's contours for cover. Ten metres away from the base of the coral head, Héloise and I split up. The Stalkers were too engrossed in raising a ruckus to notice our moderately stealthy arrival.
"In position." Héloise murmured.
"In position. Let's boop some Stalker snoots."
We fired simultaneously, hammering the Stalkers at 10 cycles per second. Although this fusillade wouldn't permanently maim them, those Stalkers will have a lifelong aversion to deep tissue massage after this day's work. Roughly equivalent to a barrage of squash balls... Fired from a Bren gun.
Not surprisingly, they both turned tail in fairly short order. After making sure they weren't about to double back on us, Héloise and I swam cautiously towards the coral head. I re-clipped the cannon on my harness and started scanning the outcrop. Héloise patrolled the area as I searched for the creature, her repulsion cannon now dialled up to its maximum setting. Just in case. For my part, I wasn't having much luck in pinning down the creature's location, as it kept moving around inside a maze of small tunnels that honeycombed the sandstone beneath. I was learning an awful lot about the composition of this particular coral head, but not much else. Naturally, a certain element of frustration began creeping into this increasingly fruitless exercise.
Just as I conjured it was time to leave, the creature popped out of its hiding place.
If someone had left an amorous miniature pug and a like-minded squid alone with candle lighting, champagne and soft music, this is probably the end result.
It's a stubby wee thing, not much longer than my forearm. It has drab grey skin on its dorsal aspect and a faintly luminescent white underbelly. A pure white stripe runs from its blunt snout to a tubby and slightly warty thorax. Five tentacles are arranged in a radial pattern below the thorax. Large, soulful eyes, stumpy pectoral fins and a cheerful mouth filled with tiny, pebble-like teeth complete this totally unexpected package. Manannán never ceases to amaze me.
There was a brief moment of uncertainty between us. The creature obviously wanted to approach us, but I suspect that he or she was still spooked after its run-in with the Stalkers. Perfectly understandable. I plucked a passing Peeper out of the water and held it out to the beastie, hoping to lure it closer. To my surprise, the creature practically grimaced in distaste and turned away. Since there are no crustaceans or shellfish on this planet and its mouth isn't designed to munch on coral, it's most likely to be a herbivore. A quick scan should sort this chap out.
Moving carefully, I unclipped my hand scanner. This wouldn't be quite as threatening as using my own onboard systems. After all, I'm trying to appear as friendly as possible. The scanner hummed, emitting its complex patterns of multicoloured light. As expected, the creature cringed fearfully and shot back into its hole. However, it seemed to realise that it was in no danger and emerged from the coral head a few seconds later, watching the play of the scanner's beams with rapt attention.
And then, the damnedest thing happened. It smiled. An unmistakable expression of sheer joy lit up the creature's face. With an endearing chirrup, it scrambled out of the hole and began to cavort in the scanner's beam. Héloise swam closer to get a better look, and her involuntary squeal of delight almost overloaded my audio receptors. Suddenly, I found myself staring at her inverted face.
"It's adorable! Can we keep him.. Her?" Héloise implored. "Please, Chérie?"
The scanner beam cut off. Our little friend ceased chasing the pretty lights, its cheerful grin fading into a faint, yet expectant smile. JUNO's voice read off a litany of the creature's physical attributes.
"Chordate cephalopoid, species unknown. Herbivorous. Intelligent. Life stage, pre-juvenile. Gender, male. No apparent physiological or genetic congruence with any other known life forms of 4546B. Potential evolutionary nexus. Inferred threat level: Harmless. Creature appears to exhibit a marked affinity for other non-predatory species. Observations indicate a predisposition towards sociable behaviour, mimicry and empathic response. Designation requested for new species, please."
Ah. That's the Billion Credit Question.
We spent the best part of an hour wrangling with this one. Meanwhile, the mysterious critter amused itself (and us) with an exuberant display of aquabatics, drawing surreptitiously closer as its confidence increased. 'Pentapod', 'Pugsquid' and 'Polypuss' were the first names to get canned, mainly because they didn't do this happy little creature justice. Likewise, we gave any thoughts of a fancy scientific name a wide berth. It's basically a cute fish, end of story.
For his part, the Cutefish seemed completely oblivious to this momentous decision. I was baffled.
"Kitty? You're calling him 'Kitty'? I'll admit, there's a vague bit of cat in the look of him, although I'd conjure his face looks more doggish than anything else. As a potential animal companion, I'd say he's more of a Milou than a Minou, going by his antics." Héloise offered me a blank look. "Sorry. It's an old Earth comic book reference. Got the whole series on chip. I'll have to show you sometime."
Well, Minou certainly likes to play. That much has been safely established. He was currently swimming lazy circuits around our heads in an Infinity loop, occasionally varying the pattern with a spiralling 'windmill' display, tentacles outstretched. The little creature stayed just out of reach, and no amount of gentle come-hither gesturing could persuade him to come closer. At a guess, I'd say he's playing it safe until he's absolutely certain we're harmless. Héloise is completely smitten by it, and I can't say as I blame her. There is something essentially endearing about Cutefish behaviour; it's almost as if this charming and inoffensive critter is busting a gut to become your best mate.
Naturally, I tried to fathom some sinister ulterior motive lurking behind its comical capering. At least one known native species tries to weasel its way into your head, so it wouldn't be a huge surprise. The Mesmer is particularly nasty in that regard. Pretty patterns and subliminal suggestions lure you in all nice and close, then it lunges forward for an Acheron Kiss. Goodnight, Jimmy.
Thankfully, this Cutefish hasn't displayed any aggressive behaviour at all. In fact, its goofy little smile is a refreshing change from something that looks like the business end of a chainsaw. Unfortunately, that description applies to 99.98 per cent of all life on Manannán.
"I've got an idea. Wonder if he'd go for a nutrient block?" I had a couple stowed in a harness pouch. I withdrew one and glanced at its packaging. 'Soya-Lentil Crunch'.
Not a huge favourite of mine. Not a huge favourite of any sentient being in The 'Verse, if the whole truth be known.
Perfect.
After peeling back its wrapper halfway, I offered the nutrient bar to the Cutefish. It approached cautiously, sniffing the water expectantly. Without warning, it darted forward and snatched off a tiny bite, retreating to a safe distance again before chewing the morsel. His response to this particular item of Terran food was surprising, to say the least.
An ecstatic smile blossomed on his face. He hung suspended in mid-water, rotating slowly in a vertical posture as if the very Light of Heaven were streaming down upon him. Héloise and I exchanged puzzled glances. Apparently, he was enjoying that wee nibble something fierce. As soon as he finished chewing, Minou fixed his gaze on the remainder of the bar, grinning hopefully.
More, please!
The offer of food clinched the deal. Soon, we were able to scratch his chin and tickle his belly to our heart's content, and Minou seemed to be enjoying every minute of it.
He's definitely a 'keeper'.
phantomfinchWest Philadelphia , born and raised on the playground is where I spent most of my days.Join Date: 2016-09-06Member: 222128Members
The offer of food clinched the deal. Soon, we were able to scratch his chin and tickle his belly to our heart's content, and Minou seemed to be enjoying every minute of it.
Comments
One of them is for your personal use.
I fast-forwarded through the remainder of the crew's recordings, before filing them away for future reference. JUNO rose from her seat and stood smartly to attention, her bearing a masterpiece of spit and polish.
Ah, yes. There's one last piece of official business that we must attend to.
As was expected of me, I also rose and braced to attention.
"Crew data logs have been duly received in good order and reviewed, Captain JUNO. All personnel mission time codes are now synchronised. Mission commander is reporting as fully operational and ready for duty. How do you stand, Ma'am?"
JUNO saluted. "Mission log updated accordingly. I stand relieved, Sir. You have the conn, Captain."
"Thank you, Commander. I congratulate you and the crew for completing the mission. Well done."
I returned to my seat. To my surprise, JUNO stolidly remained at attention.
"Is there anything else to report, JUNO? If not, please sit down and enjoy your breakfast."
"Sir, I wish to submit myself for official reprimand. I stand guilty of conduct unbecoming an officer. In particular, my choice of words prior to the termination of the Kharaa hive." JUNO said stiffly.
If that was the full extent of her sins as an officer, most of the Terran Fleet would be in irons by now. I waved her confession away airily. Sometimes, it's possible to be too punctilious. He that lives by The Book will be swamped by needless paperwork. It's best just to let this one slide.
"Och, awa' wit' that, Lass." I said, chuckling amiably. "The Merchant Service has a time-honoured tradition of resorting to profane speech in stressful situations. Ye would'na be the first, and you're no' the last to drop a wee F-bomb in the heat o' the moment. Consider yourself officially reprimanded... And for pity's sake, please take your ease. I daresay you've earned it."
"Thank you, Sir." JUNO replied.
Just as DIGBY had finished serving, Héloise strolled into the mess-hall, rubbing sleep from her eyes.
"Ah, bon. I am not too late after all." She murmured. As she took her seat, DIGBY popped up.
"Good afternoon, Mme. Maida." DIGBY said graciously, "What may I prepare for you?"
"Whatever you feel like cooking, M'sieur DIGBY. Shimatta... I could eat a Reefback!" She growled.
"Of course. Bleu, rare, medium or well-done, Ma'am?" DIGBY enquired gravely.
Feeling slightly foolish, I accessed the relevant physical subsystems and issued a command for hair growth. Time to bite the bullet, as they say. I've never been a huge fan of facial hair, although Héloise considers it attractive. It wouldn't kill me to sport a wee chin-sporran, I suppose.
Here goes...
Héloise yelped in surprise. With an embarrassingly audible boof, a misshapen cloud of hair erupted from my scalp and face. Well, so much for trying to do this without a visual frame of reference.
As I struggled to shape the hair into something slightly more presentable, she giggled. "Loup-garou!"
"Not helpful, my dear." I muttered sourly. "Okay. These settings turn me into a werewolf. Got it."
Little by little, I managed to get a decent handle on controlling the length and density of those wayward nano-fibres. Even so, there were still a number of unfortunate moments. By now, the crew were watching my antics with rather more than casual interest. I definitely caught DIGBY smirking after one particular incident with the eyebrows. It doesn't help that the control interface isn't quite as intuitive as I would prefer, although I'm fairly certain that any of the crew would be able to handle this blasted hair-growing business with disconcerting ease.
JUNO leaned forward, a sardonic smile on her face. She was clearly enjoying this, damn her eyes.
"I must say, that new style looks particularly splendid, Sir. I would suggest twining a few smouldering cannon-matches into your hair and beard to achieve the full 'swashbuckler' effect."
I had to walk over to the viewport to get a better view of my latest effort. Hmmm. Close, but not quite tidy enough to suit my own taste. I turned around to get Héloise's opinion, although her noncommittal shrug wasn't particularly helpful. Comme ci, comme ça. It seems there's more to this caper than simply being hairy. Mind you, a shaving mirror would have been useful at this point. I'm certain that there's a crate-load somewhere in The Broch's storage inventory, but it's hardly worth the effort to drag one out. I've always shaved without using one.
Unbeknownst to me, IANTO had summoned a camera drone and positioned it facing the viewport. Obviously, this amused Héloise and the crew no end, as I could hear their stifled laughter and whispered comments as I struggled to control each new hairstyle. However, I was definitely gaining the upper hand now, and their comments became increasingly complimentary.
Finally, I found something that I can live with. An old-style Royal Navy 'full set'. One combined beard and moustache, groomed in accordance with Admiralty regulations. Judging by her delighted reaction, Héloise found its allure more than adequate.
So much fuss... Over a faceful of fuzz.
My first stop was the Bridge.
After settling into a chair, I opened a communication channel to Kaori-san no-shima.
"Nǐ hǎo, Administrator Li. Selkirk here."
Li Huang's face spread into a delighted grin. He quickly tapped a pane on his comms panel, activating a video link with the other council members. Although Héloise was still here in The Broch, her face appeared on the screen a few seconds later. Still eating a slice of toast, by the look of it.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. The Kharaa infestation has been wiped out. It's over, on this planet at least." I said bluntly. "I'm uploading a transcript of our mission right now. Complete and unexpurgated. However, I should warn you that this data contains some highly disturbing images, so you may want to exercise some discretion regarding its release to the general population."
"We understand, Captain. What about Polyakov and his men? Are they still alive down there?"
"No, they were absorbed by the Kharaa a goodly time before we arrived. They ceased to exist as human entities from that point onward. As you'd imagine, there was absolutely nothing we could do to save them. On a personal note, I'd say that Justice has been fairly served today. The gravity of their collective crimes against your colony ultimately condemned them. For the record, I accept sole responsibility for administering extreme sanction upon Polyakov and his associates."
The committee nodded gravely in agreement. Although no-one would openly admit it, Polyakov's demise was something earnestly desired and long overdue, at least as far as most of the colonists were concerned. Judging by the variety of appalled expressions on their faces, I'd hazard a guess they were now taking a sneak peek at the mission video feed. I bided my time patiently, allowing them to come up to speed with current events.
Excuse me, folks. It's time for a quick tea-break.
By the time I sat down again, there were quite a few queasy faces on my monitor. Mme. Patel looked fit to burst into hysterical tears at any second now, and the rest were looking decidedly unsettled. Fair do's. They were adequately warned. This wasn't the sort of video that's best viewed with a nice tub of popcorn and a six-pack of Newkie Broon ale within easy reach. However, time was running away with us, so I remotely killed the committee's video feed.
"My apologies, ladies and gentlemen. I was rather hoping ye'd view that mess at your own leisure. A sight that's best forgotten at the earliest opportunity, I'd say." I admitted ruefully. "Now, just to cover the last few items of immediate business... Word of warning; me and the crew will be taking some down-time all day tomorrow. Maintenance and whatnot, ye ken? At 0700 on the following morning, DSV Exodus will collect all colonists in preparation for temporary transfer to our base. You will be able to return to Kaori-san no-shima within 72 hours. Please advise the colonists to leave all of their personal effects at your base, so that they can also be decontaminated. Any questions?"
A jug of wine, a loaf of bread and thou...
Disco Volante and Artemis hadn't had a decent run in ages. With no real plan in mind at this point, I took Héloise out to visit the Aurora memorial first. After conducting a sonar sweep of the area to ensure that no Reapers were lurking nearby, we exited our Seamoths and swam over to the monument. As we climbed out of the water, Héloise gazed in wonder at the towering structure.
"I still can't believe that you made this. Magnifique!" she breathed in awe. "To be alone with your grief is bad enough, but to bear that burden while working on this... " She shook her head. "Words fail me, Chérie. You are truly an extraordinary man."
"And you're an extraordinary woman. I could'na ask for anyone better at my side. Come on, Dear Heart, we'll go and pay our respects." I took her hand gently, and we slowly trod the short flight of stairs leading up to the monument's base. The first rays of dawn shimmered faintly on the horizon. I set down my backpack and withdrew a small flask of 25-year old single malt whisky. After opening it, I solemnly poured a goodly measure onto the nanocrete plinth, then raised the flask on high.
"To my old shipmates. May fair seas and a following wind guide you home at last. Rest ye easy."
I passed the flask over to Héloise. She took a hefty slug of that fiery liquor, then passed it back. I took the last swig and carefully stowed the empty bottle for later disposal. We stood quietly as the sun rose into view; our shadows cast onto the spire in silent communion with Aurora's fallen. I have visited this site in fond remembrance every year without fail, although this time seems particularly poignant. With construction of Borealis underway, this visit may well be my last.
Our observances made, we headed for the Shallows to begin what promised to be a day of blissful inactivity. It was unanimously agreed that any physical effort expended today should be entirely unproductive, and if possible, exquisitely pleasant to the utmost degree. A mighty fine notion.
By pure chance or unconscious design, we ended up in the exact location of my first permanent base on Manannán. Permanent, at least until it was pulverised by De Ruyter's mass-driver cannons. The crater seemed unremarkable now, as it was vibrant with sea life after little more than a century had elapsed. There was no wreckage at all, no physical reminder of that ghastly incident. Even so, I will carry the memory of that dark day into a fair chunk of eternity. That's the problem with having absolute memory recall. All it takes is one wee mnemonic trigger, and it all comes flooding back. Eventually, you learn to live with it. You do whatever it takes, or cave in and descend into madness.
My sombre reminiscences were abruptly cut short. The HUD flashed an amber warning.
+++ CAUTION. PROXIMITY ALERT. UNKNOWN LIFE FORM DETECTED. EXERCISE CAUTION. +++
Cutefish?
Kharaa leviathan?
Such impatient people.
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I just caught up and now I feel the pain of a cliffhanger, it hurts. Loving this story! keep up the good work. I ade an account just to say that.
I don't think so because it said unidentified LIFEFORM and I don't think humans are unidentified. Good idea anyways!
"Heads up. We've got company. One hundred metres, and closing fast."
"Any idea what it is?" Héloise asked quietly, unclipping her cannon from its harness point.
"None, I'm afraid. Turbulence readings aren't that precise, although I can tell there's at least two of them now, and they're jinking about something fierce. Closest dynamic pattern match is a pair of Stalkers. I'd say that's worth a bit of caution on our part, but they're not exactly an unknown species. Hang on... They are definitely chasing something, and it's small. Here they come!"
There was a sudden commotion behind a large coral head directly in front of us. A minor maelstrom of sand and stones whipped up, partially masking the sleek forms of the Stalkers as they twisted and snapped at our mysterious visitor. Obviously, it had gone to ground somewhere inside the coral head, and they knew precisely where it was hiding. On any other day, I wouldn't have stepped in to rescue a prey species, Circle of Life and all that. However, this new creature had me intrigued. Although its life signs were barely detectable at this distance, one thing was absolutely certain. It was utterly terrified. Understandable, but a rather atypical depth of emotion from your average fish.
Puzzling.
"Quietly now. We'll sneak up on them from either side. Twenty per cent, tight beam, rapid pulse."
We swam toward the coral head, hugging the bottom's contours for cover. Ten metres away from the base of the coral head, Héloise and I split up. The Stalkers were too engrossed in raising a ruckus to notice our moderately stealthy arrival.
"In position." Héloise murmured.
"In position. Let's boop some Stalker snoots."
We fired simultaneously, hammering the Stalkers at 10 cycles per second. Although this fusillade wouldn't permanently maim them, those Stalkers will have a lifelong aversion to deep tissue massage after this day's work. Roughly equivalent to a barrage of squash balls... Fired from a Bren gun.
Not surprisingly, they both turned tail in fairly short order. After making sure they weren't about to double back on us, Héloise and I swam cautiously towards the coral head. I re-clipped the cannon on my harness and started scanning the outcrop. Héloise patrolled the area as I searched for the creature, her repulsion cannon now dialled up to its maximum setting. Just in case. For my part, I wasn't having much luck in pinning down the creature's location, as it kept moving around inside a maze of small tunnels that honeycombed the sandstone beneath. I was learning an awful lot about the composition of this particular coral head, but not much else. Naturally, a certain element of frustration began creeping into this increasingly fruitless exercise.
Just as I conjured it was time to leave, the creature popped out of its hiding place.
I wonder how Selkirk is going to explain why he's never seen one before.
Maybe a Cutefish is just an extremely endangered subspecies of Sea Dragon.
That's a really small step.
Also,
Can we just get a round of applause for @TenebrousNova for being a psychic?
Never expected to see that meme here!
*Bows*
I hope it recognises Selkirk and Héloise as its saviours and becomes their new sidekick pet/comedy relief.
Good catch. Have a cookie.
Thanks a heap, guys.
If someone had left an amorous miniature pug and a like-minded squid alone with candle lighting, champagne and soft music, this is probably the end result.
It's a stubby wee thing, not much longer than my forearm. It has drab grey skin on its dorsal aspect and a faintly luminescent white underbelly. A pure white stripe runs from its blunt snout to a tubby and slightly warty thorax. Five tentacles are arranged in a radial pattern below the thorax. Large, soulful eyes, stumpy pectoral fins and a cheerful mouth filled with tiny, pebble-like teeth complete this totally unexpected package. Manannán never ceases to amaze me.
There was a brief moment of uncertainty between us. The creature obviously wanted to approach us, but I suspect that he or she was still spooked after its run-in with the Stalkers. Perfectly understandable. I plucked a passing Peeper out of the water and held it out to the beastie, hoping to lure it closer. To my surprise, the creature practically grimaced in distaste and turned away. Since there are no crustaceans or shellfish on this planet and its mouth isn't designed to munch on coral, it's most likely to be a herbivore. A quick scan should sort this chap out.
Moving carefully, I unclipped my hand scanner. This wouldn't be quite as threatening as using my own onboard systems. After all, I'm trying to appear as friendly as possible. The scanner hummed, emitting its complex patterns of multicoloured light. As expected, the creature cringed fearfully and shot back into its hole. However, it seemed to realise that it was in no danger and emerged from the coral head a few seconds later, watching the play of the scanner's beams with rapt attention.
And then, the damnedest thing happened. It smiled. An unmistakable expression of sheer joy lit up the creature's face. With an endearing chirrup, it scrambled out of the hole and began to cavort in the scanner's beam. Héloise swam closer to get a better look, and her involuntary squeal of delight almost overloaded my audio receptors. Suddenly, I found myself staring at her inverted face.
"It's adorable! Can we keep him.. Her?" Héloise implored. "Please, Chérie?"
The scanner beam cut off. Our little friend ceased chasing the pretty lights, its cheerful grin fading into a faint, yet expectant smile. JUNO's voice read off a litany of the creature's physical attributes.
"Chordate cephalopoid, species unknown. Herbivorous. Intelligent. Life stage, pre-juvenile. Gender, male. No apparent physiological or genetic congruence with any other known life forms of 4546B. Potential evolutionary nexus. Inferred threat level: Harmless. Creature appears to exhibit a marked affinity for other non-predatory species. Observations indicate a predisposition towards sociable behaviour, mimicry and empathic response. Designation requested for new species, please."
Ah. That's the Billion Credit Question.
We spent the best part of an hour wrangling with this one. Meanwhile, the mysterious critter amused itself (and us) with an exuberant display of aquabatics, drawing surreptitiously closer as its confidence increased. 'Pentapod', 'Pugsquid' and 'Polypuss' were the first names to get canned, mainly because they didn't do this happy little creature justice. Likewise, we gave any thoughts of a fancy scientific name a wide berth. It's basically a cute fish, end of story.
How hard can it be?
"I shall call him Minou." Héloise declared.
For his part, the Cutefish seemed completely oblivious to this momentous decision. I was baffled.
"Kitty? You're calling him 'Kitty'? I'll admit, there's a vague bit of cat in the look of him, although I'd conjure his face looks more doggish than anything else. As a potential animal companion, I'd say he's more of a Milou than a Minou, going by his antics." Héloise offered me a blank look. "Sorry. It's an old Earth comic book reference. Got the whole series on chip. I'll have to show you sometime."
Well, Minou certainly likes to play. That much has been safely established. He was currently swimming lazy circuits around our heads in an Infinity loop, occasionally varying the pattern with a spiralling 'windmill' display, tentacles outstretched. The little creature stayed just out of reach, and no amount of gentle come-hither gesturing could persuade him to come closer. At a guess, I'd say he's playing it safe until he's absolutely certain we're harmless. Héloise is completely smitten by it, and I can't say as I blame her. There is something essentially endearing about Cutefish behaviour; it's almost as if this charming and inoffensive critter is busting a gut to become your best mate.
Naturally, I tried to fathom some sinister ulterior motive lurking behind its comical capering. At least one known native species tries to weasel its way into your head, so it wouldn't be a huge surprise. The Mesmer is particularly nasty in that regard. Pretty patterns and subliminal suggestions lure you in all nice and close, then it lunges forward for an Acheron Kiss. Goodnight, Jimmy.
Thankfully, this Cutefish hasn't displayed any aggressive behaviour at all. In fact, its goofy little smile is a refreshing change from something that looks like the business end of a chainsaw. Unfortunately, that description applies to 99.98 per cent of all life on Manannán.
"I've got an idea. Wonder if he'd go for a nutrient block?" I had a couple stowed in a harness pouch. I withdrew one and glanced at its packaging. 'Soya-Lentil Crunch'.
Not a huge favourite of mine. Not a huge favourite of any sentient being in The 'Verse, if the whole truth be known.
Perfect.
After peeling back its wrapper halfway, I offered the nutrient bar to the Cutefish. It approached cautiously, sniffing the water expectantly. Without warning, it darted forward and snatched off a tiny bite, retreating to a safe distance again before chewing the morsel. His response to this particular item of Terran food was surprising, to say the least.
An ecstatic smile blossomed on his face. He hung suspended in mid-water, rotating slowly in a vertical posture as if the very Light of Heaven were streaming down upon him. Héloise and I exchanged puzzled glances. Apparently, he was enjoying that wee nibble something fierce. As soon as he finished chewing, Minou fixed his gaze on the remainder of the bar, grinning hopefully.
More, please!
The offer of food clinched the deal. Soon, we were able to scratch his chin and tickle his belly to our heart's content, and Minou seemed to be enjoying every minute of it.
He's definitely a 'keeper'.
Aww no high fives?
(The high-five's coming on next page, actually.)