Valiant: Tales From The Archive

[CURSEd #11: For Every Action…]

Log Date: 1/15/12764

Data Sources: Darrow Bennion

Intercepted Transmission

Undisclosed source to CURSE HQ

11:07am SGT

Operator 21: CURSE Control, how may I direct you today?

Unknown: …

O21: Huh… hey Grayson, come take a look at this.

Operator 27: What’s up?

O21: Inbound text chat, but I can’t make sense of it.

O27: They requesting docking permissions, or what?

O21: No, they’re sending me names.

O27: Names?

O21: Yeah. Names and ages, details about the apparent families of these people… I don’t know what to make of it.

O27: Well that’s odd. Let’s take a look. [sound of footsteps] Huh, that is weird. Whoever’s on the other end of this chat isn’t even waiting for you to respond, are they?

O21: No, they just keep sending messages. Think it’s a spambot?

O27: Normally I’d say yes, but there’s no hyperlinks in the text, and there’s a gap between each message. You can see the little dots where it shows they’re typing on the other end.

O21: Just some wanker that doesn’t have anything better to do, then?

O27: Probably.

O21: Guess I’ll just wait for them to finish, then close it out. What should I put under the resolution code?

O27: Mark it as spam. That’s pretty much what it is.

O21: Oh wait, they just messaged something else.

O27: What is that?

O21: Some sort of meme face or something? It’s a 4 sandwiched between two eye emojis.

O27: Looks like something my daughter would text to her friends.

O21: What’s it supposed to mean?

O27: Does it look like I speak teenage girl?

O21: I mean, I figured? What’s the point of spying on your teenager’s texts if you don’t even know what she’s saying to other people?

O27: It’s about the principle of the thing.

O21: Mm, sure. [pause] They haven’t sent any more messages.

O27: That’s it?

O21: Yeah, that’s it. It doesn’t show that they’re typing anything else either.

O27: Weird. I’d say message back and ask if they need help with anything, and if you don’t get a response after two minutes, close it under the spam code.

O21: Copy that. Hey, are you grabbing dinner from the mess hall today?

O27: I was thinking of hitting up the food court, actually. You want me to grab you something when I go?

O21: Yeah, something from the noodlehouse, I’ve got a craving for greasy Moksan food today. You want me to write down my order?

O27: Yeah, do that. There’s no way I’m going to memorize it.

O21: Sure. Can you bring back a receipt so I know how much I need to pay you?

O27: Count on it. [footsteps moving away]

Event Log: Darrow Bennion

CURSE HQ: Kent’s Lab

12:28pm SGT

“Did you know that the original leak of the Songbird Incident has no audio?”

“Is that so.” Kent says without looking up from his worktable. Sitting on it is my battleaxe, the shaft casing opened up so that he can tinker with the wiring and parts within.

“Yeah. I’ve scoured through as many archived news reports as I can, and CURSE intelligence reports from that time. Not a single one has audio from the video clip.” I say from where I’m sitting across the table, staring at my data slate and the compiled reports on the screen. “You don’t notice it as much in the news reports, because whenever the clip is playing, news anchors or pundits are always talking in the background. But when you pull it up in the CURSE intelligence reports and play it, it’s silent. The images are moving, but there’s no audio to go with them.” I explain. “It says right in the intelligence reports that we possess an exact copy of the leaked footage, identical in every way. If that’s true, then it means the original leak had no audio.”

“Alright, and that’s important why?” Kent asks as he works to carefully fold wires back into the shaft of the battleaxe.

“Because it means that whoever leaked the footage stripped the audio out before they put it in the public domain.” I say, rubbing a thumb over my lip.

“Well, that still doesn’t change the fact that Songbird killed Nova.” Kent points out. “Audio doesn’t change the fact that he straight-up shot and killed her. The footage is going to show that, every single time.”

“But the audio could change the context of why he shot her.” I say, watching as footage of the Songbird Incident plays over and over on my data slate. “Omitting the audio before you leak something to the public is an… oddly specific choice to make. There would be no reason to strip the audio from the footage, unless the audio undermines what you’re trying to achieve by leaking the footage.”

“Better watch yourself, dude.” Kent warns. “You’re starting to sound like Markos.”

“Markos is a crackpot that surfs online conspiracy boards whose relationship with logic, facts, and reality are tenuous at best.” I reply without looking up from my data slate. “I’m pulling my data from valid sources and actual research, like news reports and intelligence reports written by people that do this kind of critical analysis for a living.”

“Why does it even matter, Dare?” Kent demands. “It happened fifteen years ago. The Songbird Incident is pretty much settled history at this point.”

“It might be settled history for the rest of us, but maybe not for Songbird.” I say, standing up and starting to pace. “I might have to face off with him in the future. If I do, I want to be ready. To know what makes him tick.”

“Is this because of Prophet?” Kent asks as he starts setting the shaft’s casing back into place and securing it. “I told you not to listen to him, dude. Once you let an extremist into your head, it’s hard to get ‘em back out again.”

“I’m not ‘letting him into my head’.” I retort. “I don’t believe his traditionalist bullshit about maintaining race purity and establishing a human ethno-state and whatever other batshit stuff he preaches. Although I’ll admit he was… disturbingly compelling when he was making some of his points.” Sighing, I run a hand through my hair as I start to pace around the other worktables in the lab. “The stuff about Songbird and Nova and the Challenger program, though… that was different. There was truth in what he was saying, or he believed it so strongly that it was the truth to him. And it was messy; it wasn’t a straightforward tale. Listening to him reminisce, you could tell there were parts about it he regretted, parts about it he admired, parts he wishes he could go back and change… it was messy. And the truth is often messy, Kent.”

Kent shakes his head. “I don’t like that. Just give it to me straight, I say. When you start blurring lines and doing this relativism shit, it makes everything… well, blurry. Makes it hard to tell right from wrong and I don’t like that.” Snapping the last of the shaft covers into place, he curls his hands under the battleaxe and hefts it. “Modification complete. You ready to give this puppy a test run?”

“Depends. It isn’t going to explode when I turn it on, is it?” I ask, making my way back over to his worktable and setting my data slate down.

“That’s what you got healthcare for.” Kent says, giving the battleaxe a little spin before holding it out to me. “I’m calling this one the antigrav hammer. When you activate it, it’ll generate a displacement field around the module attached to the tail end of the battleaxe, which should, in theory, shunt objects and people away from it whenever you swing it at them.”

“In theory.” I repeat skeptically, taking my battleaxe and adjusting to the new feeling of heft on the tail end.

“Look, no great science was ever perfect on the first try. It’s going to take some fine-tuning; that’s just part of the scientific process.” Kent says, motioning to the grips on the shaft. “Activation for the antigrav hammer is the same as activating the plasma blades on the axe, but in reverse.”

“Just twist and lock, but in the other direction?” I say, wrapping my hands around the grips. I don’t wait for him to answer, twisting the grip and pushing it down to lock it into place; slats flick open from the cylinder on the axe’s tail end, orange light brimming through the gaps in the cylinder.

“Pretty cool, isn’t it.” Kent says, giving a little smile. “I mean, the displacement field itself is invisible, but I put some accent lighting inside the module so it’d match the orange aesthetic you’ve got with the plasma blades and the Axiom suit’s pilot lights.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Accent lighting? Really?”

“Look, it’s cool when your weapons glow!” Kent protests. “And it also lets you know when the antigrav hammer is active.”

“And it also lets everyone else, enemies included, know that.” I point out.

“Exactly! They see you activate it, they know that you mean business!” Kent says. “You can throw out a cool one-liner while activating it, maybe scare them into surrendering.”

I roll my eyes. “Alright, let’s test this thing out. What do I do, just shove the tail end at something?”

“Shove it, swing it, whatever works for you.”

“Got a target?” I say, looking around before my gaze settles on the mostly-empty worktable beside us. “Let’s see how it does against furniture.”

Kent follows my gaze. “I’m not sure it’ll do much to something that large—”

I swing the antigrav hammer at the underside of the worktable anyway, letting out a shout when the entire table flips into air, spinning over another table and slamming into the lab’s wall with a loud bang. From there it falls on the table below it with an equally loud clang, then slides off it and clatters to the floor on its side with no small amount of rattling and banging. As flying tools and broken parts finish settling across the far side of lab, and the din subsides, Kent and I look at each other.

“Tune it down a little?” Kent asks.

I nod. “Just a smidge.”

Event Log: Darrow Bennion

CURSE HQ: Elite Suites floor

2:18pm SGT

“Gods, it was such a mess. I wonder sometimes why the Venusian government hasn’t collapsed yet.” Whisper grouses. She’s just gotten back from an assignment, and I’m helping her roll her luggage back to her room. “If they would just grow some balls and strip the Monarchy of its powers, they wouldn’t end up with these homegrown terrorists trying to sneak a mini nuke into the basement of the palace.”

“A nuke? Just for the palace? Seems a bit like overkill, doesn’t it?” I ask.

“I mean yeah, but these guys didn’t want to leave anything to chance. No need for checking the bodies if the bodies have been turned into radioactive ash raining down over the capitol.” Whisper says, shaking her head. “If they’d succeeded, they would’ve destroyed most of the royal family. Most of them were there for some kind of christening for a newborn in the direct line of succession.”

“Jeez. No concern for the collateral?” I ask. “A nuke wouldn’t have just taken out the palace, it would’ve destroyed the surrounding blocks. Isn’t the Venusian Parliament building just down the street from the Monarchy’s palace?”

“Yup.” Whisper says as we reach her room, and she taps her bracelet against the pad, the door sliding open. “But yeah, that’s about how my trip went. What about you? Been quiet while I’ve been gone?”

“More or less. Kwyn’s finishing some of her certs, and starting new ones.” I say, following into her room. “Took a trip with Kent to one of the CURSE warehouses to dig through old Challenger junk, see if there was anything we could salvage. And speaking of Challengers, we managed to ambush them and put their mobile fortress out of commission.”

“Nice. So is that the end of it, then?” Whisper asks, throwing her pack on her bed.

“No, the Dussel ships managed to evacuate and get away, and scout drones trawling through the fortress’s debris didn’t find any bodies matching the rogue Challengers.” I say, pulling Whisper’s suitcase up to the foot of her bed. “Plenty of dead mercs, though.”

“Ugh. They’re just gonna keep on being a pain in the ass, then.” Whisper says, flopping onto on her bed. “I would know. Challengers are stubborn. They’re gonna keep at it, even if they’ve lost their one major advantage.”

“Don’t they realize they can’t win?” I ask. “With their mobile fortress gone, it’s just a matter of time before we catch out the rest of their fleet and take them down. It’s not even a matter of numbers; I read up on the Dussel fleet’s composition, and the CURSE fleet doesn’t just outnumber them; we outmatch them. Their battlecruisers and frigates are all decades old.”

“Are you kidding me?” Whisper says, sitting up on her bed. “There’s rogue Challengers that have been doing this shit for fifteen years. They don’t give up, Dare. They’re motivated by ideology, not money or survival, and they’re never gonna stop until you kill them. They’re kinda like religious extremists in that regard.”

I sigh, looking towards her room’s balcony and the star-freckled darkness outside. “I just wish they would see reason. Galaxy’s got enough problems without throwing rogue Challengers onto the pile.”

“There’s just no reasoning with some people, Dare. You know that.” Whisper says, reaching over and zipping her pack open. “All the Challengers that had common sense joined up with CURSE after the Songbird Incident, and all the Challengers that had common decency took the resettlement agreement when the program was finally shuttered. What’s left is everyone that wasn’t reasonable enough to call it quits or switch sides.”

“Yeah, I guess.” I say, making my way around her bed to the glass balcony door, so I can stare through it at the starscape. “On that topic, though — did you know much about Nova when you were in the Challenger program?”

“Nova? Pff. She was an icon, like Jackrabbit.” Whisper says as starts unpacking her pack. “She’s so well-documented, I don’t know why you’re askin’ me. You could just hop online, type in her name, and be reading for hours.”

“Yeah, but that’s all public stuff.” I say. “Did you ever meet her? Get to see what she was like as a person, and not in front of the cameras?

Whisper shrugs. “I mean, I didn’t see her all that much. We were in different departments. She was one of the big, splashy, public Challengers, and I was in Accounting. She usually got sent to defeat evil tyrants and big bad guys, while I worked behind the scenes balancing the program’s ledger.”

“So you were assassinating people.” I infer.

She shrugs. “Like I said earlier, there’s no reasoning with some people. If they won’t stop doing bad shit, sometimes you’ve just gotta… gently persuade them to exit this life sooner than they were planning.”

“Gently persuade.” I repeat, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, like a gentle pull of a trigger, or a gentle push off the side of the skyscraper, or down an elevator shaft… y’know. Gently!” Pulling something out of the side pocket of her backpack, she holds it out to me. “Hey, get a load of this.”

“What is it?” I ask, turning away from the balcony door and taking what she’s offered to me. It looks like a diamond, about one inch in length and half an inch in width, with a little red inclusion in the center.

“It’s a blood diamond. Venusian royals give them out to people that the Monarchy is indebted to, usually for saving their lives or lifelong service or some shit like that. It’s got a drop of the Venusian king’s blood in the center.” Whisper explains. “Needless to say, the Monarchy was thankful that yours truly managed to save most of the Monarchy singlehandedly, so I got a neat souvenir for my heroic actions.”

“Neat. How do they get the blood in there, though?” I ask, holding the diamond up to the light to peer at it. “Seems like you’d have to drill a hole in it to pipe it in there, but I don’t see any cracks or lines…”

“Hell if I know.” Whisper shrugs. “I heard that blood diamonds can be returned to the Monarchy in exchange for a favor. Dunno if it’s true, since they don’t get given out all that often, but it’s nice to have friends in high places.” She makes a face, scratching her cheek. “Even if I do kind of agree with the rebels that the Monarchy needs to be stripped of its power…”

I smile, tossing the blood diamond back to her. “Hard to advocate for the overthrow of an institution when you’re benefitting from it, eh?”

Whisper reaches up, catching the diamond and scowling at it. “Now that you put it that way, I wonder if they were trying to buy me off or if they were actually sincerely grateful. Gods, politics is such a minefield.”

“Well, at any rate, you should probably register that with Personnel Resources.” I say, making my way back around her bed. “That probably falls under the ‘gifts and in-kind contributions’ category, and I think we’re required to report that stuff so that PR can track any conflicts of interest that might crop up.”

“Seriously?” Whisper whines. “It’s just a diamond. It’s not like I’m gonna sell it, and it isn’t going to make me magically sympathetic to the Monarchy.”

“It’s the principle of the thing.”

“The principle can go eat my ass.” Whisper says, sprawling on her bed as I reach the door. “Where are you goooooing! Stay and hang out with me, I just got back from a long assignment. I want some company.”

“Would if I could but I’ve got a rookie to spar with.” I say, waving the door open. “I’ve actually got a schedule now, so I have to stick to it. Need to set a good example for her.”

“What you need to do is put her in a headlock until she agrees to go on a date with you.” Whisper mutters, digging through her pack.

I raise an eyebrow at her. “Feeling frisky today, are we?”

“It was a long assignment. I’m restless.” she says, sticking her tongue out at me. “Gritter’s tonight? I deserve a drink or two for saving a royal family.”

“If I have to carry you back to your room again, you’re paying the tab.”

“Oh no, having to pay the tab! How terrible!” she says with faux consternation, before balling up a set of her shorts and throwing them at me. “Go on, get out of here. Go play with Kwyn. I’ll see you tonight.”

“It’s not playing—”

“Don’t argue with a senior Peacekeeper. Now shoo! Unless you want to watch me get undressed! In which case, get back in here and close the door.”

“Okay okay! I’m going!”

Event Log: Darrow Bennion

CURSE HQ: Arrivals Platform

4:35pm SGT

“So you come here every time there’s new recruits?”

“Yeah. I just like to watch them come in.” I say, sipping from my fizzwater as we roam through the doors of the arrivals platform. “It’s just a little ritual I started doing after Whisper recommended that I check out the new batch of recruits a few months back. The first time I did that was actually when you arrived here.”

“Really?” Kwyn says, using her straw to stir around her milkshake. “Was it a tradition she was passing on?”

“No, she just thought I needed to get out more.” I explain as we stop behind the desks where the new recruits get assigned their bunks and bracelets. “I’d gotten benched after a failed mission, so that’s what she recommended to get me off my ass and keep my mind off things. And I’ve just made a habit of it ever since.”

“I think I remember that, actually.” Kwyn says thoughtfully. “I was the last one off the transport. You were standing…” She raises her head, looking across the platform, pointing to the area just in front of the airlocks. “…over there. There was a big, rusty Cyber with you.”

“Yeah. That was Blockchain.”

“He’s a Peacekeeper, isn’t he?” Kwyn asks.

“He’s… yeah, technically.” I say, scratching my jaw. “Honestly, I’m not entirely sure where he comes from or why we hired him. I don’t think anyone does. He doesn’t have a vocal… thing, whadjamacallit. A vocal emitter. So, he never says anything. He can understand most of the stuff we’re saying, I think. He seems to take orders just fine, so he must understand that much.”

“That’s strange. Don’t Peacekeepers have to be able to speak and engage diplomatically?” Kwyn asks, sipping on her milkshake.

“Surprisingly, no.” I say, watching as the onboarding staff organize the desks so the bracelets are all neatly lined up, ready to process the new recruits. “It definitely helps when you’re being considered for the position, but it’s not actually a requirement. Onslaught’s an example of that; she has zero diplomatic skill, but she’s really good at shooting things.”

“That’s a little… concerning.” Kwyn says, her brow furrowing.

“You’re tellin’ me.” I say, shaking my head. “I hate being deployed on assignments with her. It’s like trying to control a rabid dog. I don’t know how she managed to get to Peacekeeper, but if I had to guess, she managed to get a spot early on, when the requirements weren’t as tight and CURSE needed people that could go toe-to-toe with rogue Challengers in the crazy department. Of course, once most of the Challengers were dealt with, it made her kind of a loose end, so now she gets put on assignments with clearly-drawn battle lines. I don’t think the administration trusts her with anything sensitive.”

“Do Peacekeepers ever get demoted or retire?” Kwyn asks as a few more folks start to trickle in behind us. People with the welcoming committee, I guess.

“Demoted… I’ve never heard of it happening, although I suppose it’s technically possible.” I say, sipping on my drink. “Retirement or promotion, that’s more common. I’ve seen Peacekeepers decide to retire once they got too old to keep up in the field. Some surrender their positions and become training instructors instead. Or, if they’re good at what they do, they get promoted to an administrative position or to the head of their department.”

“And when they do, a Peacekeeper position opens up, right?” Kwyn asks.

“It does. And new Peacekeeper positions are created whenever the need arises.” I say, watching as the welcoming committee makes their way towards the airlocks. I realize some of them have little holobrochures, likely with maps of the HQ to help the new recruits find their way around, and a listing of the various clubs and organizations they can join in their downtime. “It doesn’t happen often, but this might be one of those times, with the recruiting surge we’re seeing. The proportion of Peacekeepers to regular operatives tends to remain constant, so if the operative ranks swell, then usually additional Peacekeeper positions are added to track with them.”

“Will they announce when other Peacekeeper positions are added?” she asks, looking at me.

I smile at her. “Why, you thinking of applying?”

“No.” she says quickly. “Just… wondering.”

“Sometimes they announce it, sometimes they don’t. But if they do announce it, I think you should apply.” I explain.

“You do?” she says, looking surprised by that.

“I do.” I say, swirling the ice around in my fizzwater. “You probably won’t be chosen, due to your inexperience, but it sends a message that you’re interested. That means they’ll be watching your performance after that, to see if you’re Peacekeeper material. And if another position opens up, and you apply again, with more experience and having proved yourself on assignments, then you will be one of the candidates that stand out to them, since you’ve already signaled your interest in the position.”

“Lemme guess, that’s a process that’ll take years.” she says.

“Yup. Elite rank has to be earned, both by time and deed.” I confirm, looking back towards the far end of the arrivals platform. “But if you truly want it — if you truly believe in CURSE’s mission, in keeping the galaxy safe and being the best at it — then time isn’t an issue.” Lifting my head, I gaze through the glass ceiling of the platform to see that the leading edge of the transport is visible over the lip of the far wall, slowly approaching. “Looks like the next batch is almost here.”

“You’re not going to pick a new trainee out of this group, are you?” Kwyn jokes.

“Are you kidding me? One’s a handful; I don’t think I could handle two of you.” I joke back to her, sipping from my drink as we return to watching the transport arrive. We pass a minute in easy silence, though the ease slowly starts to bleed away as the transport gets closer… and closer, and closer.

“Dare, does the transport seem a little… fast, to you?” Kwyn says after a moment, concern bending the edges of her tone.

“Yeah, it’s not slowing down.” I murmur, lowering my drink. “They should be firing the braking thrusters at this point.”

We watch for another ten seconds, a sense of dread creeping up on both of us. Like we know what’s going to happen, but haven’t fully accepted it yet, telling ourselves that at any moment the transport’s going to start slowing down. It’s only when I see how quickly the shadow of the transport is moving across the floor of the platform that it hits home:

There’s no way it’s going to dock safely, even if they fired the braking thrusters now.

“Dare, it’s not slowing down.” Kwyn says, this time more urgently.

“Oh my god.” I murmur, looking down to the arrivals platform and realizing how many people are on it, then looking up to the glass portions of the arrivals platform. There’s no way that those can hold up under the structural pressure of a transport slamming into the platform. Dropping my glass, I lunge towards the desks, grabbing PR staff and shoving them back towards the doors leading into the HQ proper. “GET OFF THE PLATFORM! GET BACK INTO THE HALL, NOW!”

The people on the platform are slow to respond, just because they don’t know what’s going on. I keep grabbing PR staff and shoving them back towards the doors; some of them just give me blank looks, or ask what’s going on, though a few have the wits to look up and see the approaching transport gliding towards the arrivals platform like a slow-moving catastrophe in the making.

“It’s going to crash into the platform!” I shout to the welcoming committee strewn across the platform, most of whom are staring at us with befuddled looks. “Get back to the hall! Get off the platform!”

For some of them, I can see the realization only hits them when the shadow of transport falls over them, and they look up and over their shoulders to see the ship looming up over the platform. Many start running towards the doors, but they’re not going to make it. I’m not even sure that most of the PR staff are going to make it, and they’re the closest to the doors.

Then something massive goes barreling past me with a rush of wind that has me staggering forward. It’s a giant, translucent wolf, sprinting right for the airlocks and getting bigger as it goes; when it reaches the airlocks, it dives right through them, phasing through like a ghost and slamming into the bow of the transport, planting its hindpaws against the outside of the arrivals platform.

Looking over my shoulder, I can see Kwyn standing not far from the doors, hands up and her tawny eyes glowing, a mix of determination and fear on her face.

“Move, move!” I shout to those left on the platform. Outside, Kwyn’s spirit wolf is being folded against the platform by the sheer mass of the transport, crushed between an unmovable object and an unstoppable force. “Back into the HQ, NOW!”

“Dare, I can’t hold it!” Kwyn shouts. I look over my shoulder to see she’s broken out into a sweat. Blood is starting to trickle from her nose, and a vessel in her eye has burst. “It’s not slowing down!”

“Kwyn, stop!” I shout, forgetting everything else and bolting back towards her. She collapses just before I reach her, and I catch her, pulling her up in time to look over my shoulder and see her spirit wolf burst into millions of white glimmers.

And without that in the way, the transport plows through that glimmering cloud, seconds from slamming into the platform.

I stop watching, hoisting Kwyn up and throwing her over my shoulder. I can’t afford to be gentle with her; I just grab her and run. All that matters is getting to the door and into the hall before the transport hits. Which it does — I can hear the groaning of metal, the plinking of glass as cracks start to run through the arrival platform’s ceiling.

“Close the doors!” I gasp as I pelt through the doors.

But I don’t think anyone has the time to, because instantly after, I hear the shatter of glass as the ceiling finally gives, and the platform explosively depressurizes. Despite my forward momentum and Kwyn’s weight, I can instantly feel the atmosphere in the hall yank in one direction, that direction being back through the doors and out into the void of space. My first instinct is to lean away from it, and that’s what I start doing, only to find that the pressure of the venting atmosphere is so strong that it’s lifting me off the ground, and starting to suck me back towards the doors.

And in that instant, without anything to hang onto, being pulled out towards the void of space and unable to do anything about it, I feel more helpless and terrified than I’ve ever been.

What I remember next is a bang, and falling — the pressure diminishing, feeling myself fall back to the floor with a little backwards momentum, my legs folding beneath me. I let out a grunt, dropping Kwyn on the floor because I can already feel her slipping off my shoulder, and I try to take a breath — only to realize that the air is paper-thin, and I’m soon braced on my hands, gasping for breath. I can pick out hissing in the hall, and realize that it’s the sound of this corridor repressurizing after the recent atmosphere loss.

And over the sound of hissing, I can hear weak screaming and crying.

Looking around, I can see that the blast doors to the arrivals platform have slammed shut, probably triggered once they sensed the drastic loss of atmosphere. PR staff are lying on the ground in the hallway, struggling to breathe just as I am, but there are less of them than I thought I saw escape the platform. It’s only when I see one of them lying near the blast doors in a pool of blood, with their lower leg sheared clean off, that I realize that some of them must’ve been near the doors, like I was — and got sucked through them when the platform depressurized. Or pulled partway through the doorways before the blast doors slammed down, with grisly results.

“Someone cover that stump!” I wheeze towards the PR staff that are in the general vicinity of the recent amputee. Pulling my wrist close, I struggle with my bracelet until I’ve got a channel open. “CURSE Control, this is Axiom. We need medical teams down to the arrivals platform. Open the doors linking the foyer hall. Repressurization is too slow, we can barely breathe down here.”

Turning, I drag myself across the floor to Kwyn, brushing her hair out of her face and checking on her. “Kwyn? Kwyn, talk to me.”

She opens her eyes, and I can see the busted blood vessel starting to cloud up one of her eyes. Blood is still dripping from her nose; her breathing is shallow and weak. Though she doesn’t say anything, I can tell she sees me.

“Goddammit.” I exhale through gritted teeth, trying to clean the blood away from her nose. When I hear the distant sound of doors opening, and the accompanying pop in my ears as the air pressure in the hall equalizes with the adjacent halls, I start to slide my arms under her. “We’re going to get you to the infirmary. Hang in there.”

Taking deep breaths of denser, more oxygen-rich air, I struggle to my feet and start to stagger down the hall. Other CURSE staff start rushing into the hall to help, most of them thankfully staying out of my way as I make a beeline straight for the elevators. Kwyn is heavy in my arms; her breathing is starting to level out, but she feels limp and looks only semi-lucid. I have to keep shaking her every thirty seconds or so in the elevator to make sure she’s not slipping away while I try to get her to the infirmary.

People scatter when I exit the elevator, half because I’m shouting at them to move and half because I’m about to run them over if they don’t move. The way to the infirmary stays clear most of the way there, though I do see a medic team running back the way I came with a stretcher in hand, probably responding to my initial call for a medic team. Once I reach the infirmary, I duck in, dodging around a nurse that nearly walks into my way. “I need help! I have an injured operative!”

Nearly everyone glances my way, but only one doctor starts towards me. “Is this someone from the arrivals platform? We just dispatched a team down there.”

“She is, yes, she’s my trainee.” I say, the words tumbling out faster and faster. “She cast a spell to try and slow down the transport that rammed the platform, and then she collapsed after that, and I don’t know much about magic, but she’s got a nosebleed and a busted vessel in one eye—”

“I can see that.” the doctor interrupts after doing a cursory check over Kwyn. “Put her on this bed over here. Nurse, we’re looking at an extreme case of arcane overexertion. Get her vitals, stabilize her, and we’ll need a cranial scan to check for neural damage.”

I move over to the bed indicated by the doctor, laying Kwyn down on it, only to find myself quickly displaced by nurses following the doctor’s orders. Even if there’s nothing I can do, I feel anxious, hovering nearby and watching as they start to hook her up to sensors and take her readings, testing her responses and checking for basic cognizance.

“Axiom!”

The call of my name has me turning around to see Nazka striding into the infirmary, with Ironfist lumbering behind him. “The Administrator wants to know what happened. Come with us.” Nazka orders.

I motion a hand to Kwyn. “I— I can’t leave her—”

“Sir.” I look to see one of the nurses has taken my hand. “There is nothing more you can do here. Pacing won’t make her recover. We will take care of her.”

“But—” I protest.

“Now is not the time for sentiment, Axiom.” Nazka says in terse, clipped tones. “Your trainee is just one of many victims. You need to compose yourself—”

“Nazka.” Ironfist interrupts, walking around him and setting a hand on my shoulder, looking me in the eye. “They will take care of her, Axiom. I know you are worried, but the threat to the headquarters has not passed. We need you to help us ensure the safety of everyone else on the station — that is our responsibility as Peacekeepers.”

I take a deep breath at that. It’s hard, and I don’t want to leave Kwyn, but Ironfist is right. “Okay.” I say, looking over my shoulder at Kwyn one more time. “Okay. I’m coming.”

Ironfist nods, taking his hand off my shoulder and heading back towards the hall outside the infirmary with Nazka, and I follow both them. Once we’re back outside, they start heading back to the elevator, clearly intending to head to the arrivals platform.

“We are still assessing the extent of the damage, but it appears to be considerable.” Nazka says as we walk. “The arrivals platform is mangled, partially scrunched in on itself, and the bow of the transport is torn up from impacting it. There’s been some secondary damage to the station itself, where the girders bracing the platform were crumpled into their bracing walls, but nothing major. SCION is still assessing the situation and gathering the data needed for a full damage report.”

“What about the transport?” Ironfist demands.

“SCION assumed control of the transport; it was one of the first actions he took after the crash.” Nazka replies. “He is still in control of it, and will keep it where it is until we have a course of action for how to deal with it.”

“It’ll probably need to dock in one of the maintenance bays, and we’ll need to set up a fully manned checkpoint to vet everyone coming off of that ship.” Ironfist says. “Axiom, you were there when it rammed the arrivals platform. Was there anything that stood out to you before, during, or after that?”

“No, it was a normal transport. We only noticed something was wrong when it didn’t start the braking sequence on approach to the platform.” I answer, even though most of my mind is still on Kwyn. “Once we realized it wasn’t going to slow down in time, Kwyn and I tried to get as many people off the platform as we could.”

“Nobody was behaving strangely, nothing out of the ordinary on the platform?” Nazka persists.

I shake my head. “Not that I noticed, no. It was just the PR staff setting up the checkin desks and the welcoming committee showing up to greet the new recruits. Kwyn and I were only there for five minutes before the crash happened, and nobody was behaving any different from the other times that we’ve had new recruits arrive.”

“So the cause, whatever it is, is likely on the transport itself.” Ironfist says as we reach the elevator and step in. “This had to be intentional. Docking procedures for modern vessels are nearly universally automated to remove the margin for organic error. Pilots are supposed to monitor the docking sequence and only take control if something goes wrong, and they have multiple options for cancelling out a docking sequence if it’s not going the way it’s supposed to.”

“Intentionality is a premature determination at this point, but I do agree that all evidence so far points to it.” Nazka says, checking the messages on his phone. “SCION has already started to initiate recovery procedures for the… victims. The drones from the repair dock are being repurposed to identify and retrieve bodies in the debris field.”

“If this was intentional, who would’ve done it?” I ask as the elevator doors slide open on the floor that the arrivals platform is attached to. “Why would they have done it?”

“Though I boast an array of impressive talents, omniscience is not one of them, Axiom.” Nazka answers drily as we exit the elevator. “We do not have those answers yet, and we may not have them for a while yet, pending an interrogation of the transport’s bridge crew and an investigation into the transport’s blackbox data. But we will get that information, and we will determine who is responsible.”

There’s a pause in the conversation as the medic team that passed me earlier goes rushing by us again, this time with one of the PR staff on the stretcher — the one that lost part of her leg to the blast doors. None of us stop walking, but I can see Ironfist grimace, and in that moment, I realize how extensive the fallout from this incident will be. Some people are dead; others are maimed, and will require prosthetics, their lives changed forever. I’ve seen this stuff before — soldiers, mercenaries, criminals all suffer injuries or catastrophic wounds. Hell, sometimes I’m the one dishing them out. But they had signed up for that. They knew those were risks that came with their chosen form of employment. This, on the other hand…

Nobody went into PR or signed up for the welcoming committee thinking that they might die or lose a limb for it.

“We will need to place the station into lockdown and initiate screening procedures for any other vessels that are scheduled to arrive today or in the following days.” Ironfist says as we continue on our way. “But I’m guessing that’s part of the security review that SCION is already initiating, no?”

“You are correct.” Nazka replies. “He has already initiated many of the responsive measures that are required in a situation like this, which allows the rest of us the bandwidth needed to deal with the immediate fallout. Once we have determined where the culpability for this event lies, it will not take him long to present us with a range of retaliatory options if it’s determined to be a deliberate act of sabotage by a group or entity.”

As we pass one of the overlooks on this level, I slow down when I see the crowd that’s gathered at the windows. Through the glass, the mangled, scrunched arrivals platform is visible, along with the transport, with its torn-up bow. Debris is visible against the white backdrop of one of the HQ’s curving arms, floating through space… along with the occasional frosted silhouette of someone that couldn’t make it to the doors in time.

“SCION, black out those windows.” The order has me turning to see Administrator Tenji and SCION striding across the hall to meet us halfway. SCION nods, and seconds later, the windows of the overlook start tinting, blocking the view of the carnage. “I assume SCION cued both of you in?”

“As much as we can be, this soon after the event.” Nazka says. “All the Peacekeepers on the HQ have been put on alert. Headache, Whisper, and Surge should be reporting in shortly.”

“Good. We’re going to need them.” Tenji says, turning her gaze on me. Her crimson gaze is more focused and grim than I’ve ever seen it before. “Go suit up, Axiom.”

That catches me by surprise. “Wait, are we still in danger?”

“Seconds after the crash, several of the transport’s escape pods were fired during the chaos.” SCION explains in his smooth, calm tone. “They have impacted at various points around the HQ’s inner arc. Whoever orchestrated this incident, whether it is a single individual or multiple, is possibly now aboard the station.”

“Shit.” I murmur.

“I hadn’t been apprised of that development.” Nazka says, his brows furrowing behind his narrow glasses.

“We need to put the station into lockdown now.” Ironfist says.

“Indeed.” Tenji agrees. “SCION will be forwarding a crash site for each of you to respond to, with a team of operatives. If you find an intruder or multiple, the intent is to capture them alive so we can get answers. However, lethal force is authorized if required by circumstance.” Tenji looks to me. “That’s why I need you to suit up, Axiom.”

“Understood.” I say, backing away and pulling out my phone. “Just send my route to my phone, I’ll hit it the moment I’m geared up.” Turning and starting to run, I pull up Kent’s number, and send out a call to him, waiting for it to pick up.

“Hey Axe, is that you?”

“It is. Meet me in the lab, I need to get suited up.”

Event Log: Darrow Bennion

CURSE HQ: Inner Arc, Maintenance Corridor 4W

5:40pm SGT

“Alright, we’re nearly there.” Surge says from ahead of me. We’re in a narrow maintenance corridor along the station’s inner arc, coming up on one of the crash sites for the escape pods fired from the transport. There’s a team of three operatives behind me; both Surge and the operatives are suited up in light power armor, while I’m in the Axiom suit. All of us are sharing the same comms channel to talk to each other. “We’re going to need to wait for SCION to depressurize this section of the corridor before opening the door into the next section. You hear that, SCION?”

“No need to repeat yourself, Surge.” SCION says over our suits’ comms. “Rapid depressurization is already underway. You will be able to open the door in two to three minutes.”

“You’re a darling.” Surge replies, before turning to me. “You ready?”

“I am, but why don’t you let me take point when the door opens.” I suggest. “If there’s something waiting on the other side, I can tank heavy hits better than the rest of you can.”

Surge shrugs. “Not gonna catch me complaining.” he says, leaning back against the wall so I can clomp past him to stand at the door separating us from the breached corridor. “What’s the plan for once we get in there?”

“If the intruder’s in there, beat them down and take them prisoner.” I answer. “If there’s no one in there, then clear the corridor and check the pod. Also take pictures of the wall breach so that maintenance knows what they’re going to need to fix.”

“Works for me.” Surge says, rolling a shoulder. The motion draws my attention to his suit, which looks like it’s a modified version to the standard light power armor that regular operatives use. Much of it is in a teal-blue color, and the bracers are thicker and more heavy-duty. The backplate of the torso is also bulkier, as if it contained extra power cells beneath it.

“Interesting suit.” I remark. “I’ve never seen it up close before.”

“Oh, thanks. It’s what I use when I bring my A game.” Surge says, glancing his suit over. “It’s a custom build. Has extra capacitors to help store and channel more electricity. I can recharge by hooking into a grid or a power line; the suit’s built to handle it.”

I can’t help but smirk at that. “So what, we just plug you into the wall socket if you’re running low on battery?”

“A wall socket would be a little slow, but yeah, you could.” he smiles back, before it falters. “I probably shouldn’t be laughing at that, a bunch of people just died.”

“Yeah.” I say quietly, my thoughts going back to Kwyn. “I dunno. It feels nice to have something to smile about. Takes my mind off things.”

“Why would somebody do this?” Surge says after a moment. “This is major, I guess, but it didn’t disable us in any way. The HQ is still functional. We haven’t lost any of our combat personnel. It not’s gonna stop any of our field operations. All this did was kill a bunch of civvies. It just seems so… pointless.”

“I don’t know.” I reply heavily. “And we won’t know until we find who did it, and get an answer out of them. If we don’t catch them alive, we won’t get our answers.”

“The hall is now depressurized. You may proceed when you are ready.” SCION’s voice cuts through our comms, breaking up our conversation. Turning back to the door, I tap the pad, bracing myself for the possibility of combat as the blast door glides open.

But there’s nothing waiting for us when the doors open; just the corridor, half-lit by the lights that are still working. Halfway down, the escape pod is punched through the wall, the hatch open and firmly anchoring it within the breach.

“Looks like there was someone in this pod.” I say, stepping slowly into the corridor, checking the sides and up at the ceiling. “The hatch wouldn’t have opened otherwise. Question is, where did they go.”

“They couldn’t have left this corridor without depressurizing whatever space they were leaving to.” Surge says behind me. “I’m pretty sure SCION would’ve noticed that. It definitely would’ve showed up on environmental controls, and definitely would’ve alerted Control to a problem.”

“Did you pick up anything like that in this area, SCION?” I ask.

“There were no depressurization events logged in this corridor beyond the first one, no.”

“Then whoever was in the pod might still be in this corridor.” I say, the magnetic clamps on my axe releasing as I reach back and grab the handle. “Stay sharp, but remember: nonlethal.”

Working my way forward with my battleaxe in hand, I check the escape pod from a distance. Once I’ve determined that the chamber is empty, I sweep around the other side of it, axe raised and at the ready, but there’s nothing on the other side. “Clear on this side.” I say, slowly roaming into the hall beyond the pod, and leaving the others to sweep through behind me.

“If our intruder isn’t here, where’d he get to?” Surge says as he checks over the escape pod. “You don’t think he opened the hatch too soon and got sucked out into space while the atmosphere was still venting, do you?”

“I doubt it. The gaps between the breach and the sides of the pod aren’t big enough for a person to fit through.” I say, approaching the door on the other side of the corridor. Lowering my axe, I lean in closer to study the door. “There’s something scorched onto the door here. It looks like… symbols, runes arranged in a circle. Something like that.”

“Oh great, so we’re dealing with a mage.” Surge sighs. “I’m calling it right now: you can expect some bullshit shenanigans as we try to track this guy down. Magical traps and the like.”

“You don’t know that it’s a man.” I say, running my gauntleted fingers over the outlines of the runes scorched into the door. “Could be female, for all we know. SCION, are you seeing this?”

“I’m recording it through your helm’s visual feed, yes. We will put the symbols through analytics and see if we come up with any matches.”

“Hopefully it’ll narrow it down so we can figure out what exactly our suspect is.” I say, straightening up and turning around. “Anything in the pod, Surge?”

“Not that I can see. Doesn’t look like they left anything behind.” Surge says from where he’s perched on the edge of the pod’s chamber. “The handheld survival kit and medkit are missing, so they probably took those with them. It means they’ll have enough rations to last them a day or so. The larger cache of survival gear is untouched, which is no surprise. I wouldn’t expect them to be able to lug all that with them.”

“If they used magic, they’re probably organic. Never heard of a Cyber that could use magic.” I say, slinging my axe back over my shoulder and back into the clamps on the back of my suit. “If they were organic, they had to be wearing a suit of some sort; that’s the only way they would’ve been able to survive a depressurized corridor long enough to get into the pressurized parts of the station. And the runes on the far door let us know what direction they went in.” I turning back to the door. “SCION, can you let us into this next section of the corridor? I want to follow this trail for as far as I can before it goes cold.”

“I’ll have to depressurize it, but yes, you can head through in a few minutes.”

“Alright.” I say, looking back over my shoulder. “Surge, you’re with me. You on the left there, you’re with me as well. You two on the right stay here and keep an eye on this pod until maintenance can get a drone out here to remove it and start patching this breach.”

“Wanna take any bets on what we’re up against?” Surge says, clambering over the pod to join me as we wait for the next section of the corridor to depressurize.

“Not particularly.” I say, returning my gaze to the runes on the door. “But whatever it is, it’s going to get what’s coming to it.”

Event Log: Darrow Bennion

CURSE HQ: Convalescence Quarters

11:07pm SGT

“How’s she doing?”

Kent, who’s sitting in a chair beside Kwyn’s bed, looks up from his phone to see me standing at the doorway, with the helm of the Axiom suit folded back from my head. “Hey there, sport. She was able to start talking before she dozed off. Doctors say she’ll be improving in the following days, she just needs time and rest.”

I exhale a relieved sigh, stepping in as quietly as I can in my power armor. “Thank god. I was worried she’d suffered some kind of permanent damage.”

“Doctors said she definitely pushed herself a lot further than she should’ve.” Kent says, setting his phone down as he glances over to where Kwyn’s passed out in her bed, dressed down into a hospital gown and with a couple patches on her to monitor her vitals. “Trying to stop that transport from hitting the platform was way too much for her. From what I hear from the doctors, it would’ve been way too much for anyone. Most types of magic adhere to the first law of thermodynamics in some form or another, and tryin’ to cast something that can stop an entire ship on the spot requires a hell of a lot of energy or power. They were surprised that it didn’t kill her.”

“But she’s going to be okay?” I ask, stopping at the foot of her bed.

“That’s what they said.” Kent says, folding his arms. “It came with the usual caveats, the ‘anything can happen’ stuff, but on the whole they said she’s on track for a full recovery.”

“Guess that’s the best we can hope for.” I say, walking around the side of her bed, and reaching towards her face to move some of her hair away — then letting my hand drop back to my side, realizing that the cold metal of my gauntleted fingers might wake her up. “Do we have a timeline on when she’ll be back on her feet?”

“The doctors said five to seven days. In the meantime, they’ll take good care of her.” he says, looking to me. “Did you catch who did it?”

I shake my head. “We’re pretty sure they’re on the station, but they’re slippery. They threw down several false leads by firing multiple escape pods into the station’s inner arc, and even when we caught their trail, it went cold down in engineering. We think they’re sticking to the maintenance areas right now. Easier to hide there, and less surveillance. It’s one of the few places where SCION doesn’t have as many eyes.”

“Sounds like they had this shit planned out.” Kent says, leaning back in his chair. “I’m guessing the station’s going to stay on lockdown until they’re found, then.”

“Pretty much. Everyone confined to quarters unless they’re authorized to be out and about, even then, they’re only allowed to go certain places. All staff are going to be assigned rolling shifts for meals, instead of going when they want. Classes for recruits are canceled until the intruder is caught.”

“People aren’t going to be happy about that.” Kent says, folding his arms.

I give a shrug. “Twenty-two people got sucked into space and died. Someone literally got cut in half by a blast door closing on them. Someone else lost a leg to the same. Having to hang out in your room for a few days isn’t the worst thing in the world.”

“Perspective, right?” Kent sighs. “I’d planned on going to the bar with Whisper tonight, but I guess that’s not happening now. If I leave here, I suppose I’m expected to head back to my quarters and stay there unless told otherwise or unless it’s my time to eat.”

“I’ll see if I can get you permission to head to the lab and work, if you feel like you’re getting antsy.” I offer. “I’m probably going to be busy until we catch the intruders. The Peacekeepers are being used to spearhead sweeps into areas of the station that haven’t been accounted for—”

“There you are, Axiom.” someone says. I turn around to see that Tenji is standing in the doorway, with Ironfist and Whisper at her shoulders. “A moment, if you would.”

I nod. “Of course, Administrator.” I look back to Kent. “I’ll catch you later.”

Marching back out of the room, I step into hall, following Tenji and the others as they head down the hall. Nothing’s said until we exit the convalescence wing, stepping out into one of the halls that runs the length of the station’s inner arc. Slowing down, Tenji glances around, making sure there’s no one else in the hall before turning to the rest of us.

“Were you able to capture the intruder?” I ask.

“No, we’re still sweeping maintenance and engineering areas.” Tenji says, reaching up to take her glasses off, folding them up and tucking them in the breast pocket of her uniform. Her tie’s been loosened and her collar’s been undone; it seems like this crisis has been pushing her further than most other matters do. “We’ve set up a rolling schedule for the Peacekeepers stationed here, that way we have a few available at all times while the others can get their rest. SCION will have forwarded that to you, so you should have it on your phone.”

“Your rest shift is coming up in an hour, so you should see about getting out of your armor, getting something to eat, and getting some rest.” Ironfist says.

“There’s something we wanted to tell you before you do, though.” Whisper says, tucking her hands in the pockets of her cloaking jacket. “For now it’s classified, since we don’t want panic spreading through the station. Only Peacekeepers and the administration are privy to this information.”

I give a little smile. “Makes sense that you’d want to have this conversation away from Kent, then.” I say, before turning serious again. “What is it?”

“Intelligence has been through the symbols you found scorched into the door near the one of the pods that crashed into the station.” Tenji says. “They managed to identify them. They’re part of a native alphabet of runes that Masklings use for cultural and arcane purposes.”

“Wait.” I say with a rising sense of dread. “Does that mean…”

“Yup.” Whisper says with a grimace.

“Indeed.” Tenji confirms. “There’s a Maskling loose on the station.”