This summer, capt_dan and I decided to try the White Mountain Direttissima: climbing all 48 4000' NH peaks in one continuous hike. We were both looking for a trip where we could push ourselves and finish in 8-9 days. Also didn’t want to resupply for COVID reasons. The direttissima fit the bill, with tons of climbing and no town stops. It was simultaneously a blast and the hardest hiking I’ve ever done.
(I know that this trip report is super long and super late, so thanks for reading!)
Where: White Mountains, New Hampshire
When: July 18th - 27th, 2020
Distance: 223 miles, ~ 76,000 feet of elevation gain
Conditions: We were lucky with weather. Mostly clear skies, temps between 40 and 80, and only one day of rain.
Gear Lists: Bill: https://lighterpack.com/onspp2 Dan: https://www.trailpost.com/packs/3136
Pre-Trip Information: I’d only hiked the AT through the Whites and Dan had never been up there before, so we didn’t know about trail conditions before the hike. We looked at a lot of direttissima / White Mountain trip reports (Arlette Laan, Andrew Drummond, Philip Werner) and cooked up a map with our days of hiking and possible campsites laid out. Once we started, though, we realized that we’d been too optimistic. Here’s our final route: https://caltopo.com/m/QDS8.
Training: Since we knew the hiking would be tough, we both trained beforehand. Problem: we were training in NYC, which is super flat. I was walking 8-10 miles a day with a 20lb pack and climbing stairs; Dan was running 70ish miles a week with a lot of climbing on bridges. This training was totally insufficient for the mileage / climbing we wanted to do, but we made it work by hiking long days.
Photo Album: https://imgur.com/a/B0XSeFj
Day 1 - Beaver Brook Trailhead >> Cannon Mountain (19 miles, +9,270 ft, 4/48)
Peaks: Moosilauke, South Kinsman, North Kinsman, Cannon
We drove up to the Beaver Brook Trailhead by Moosilauke on Friday night, wanting to get an early start on Saturday. It was 10:30 by the time we got there, so we camped in the parking lot: Dan slept in the car while I cowboyed by the outhouse.
Woke up around 5:00, feeling clammy from condensation. As we packed, a car pulled up at the trailhead. Two guys got out, pulled on fully-loaded packs (a KS 50 and a ZPacks something or other), and immediately started booking it towards Moosilauke.
As we started hiking (at 5:46), I said to Dan: "I wonder if those guys were starting a direttissima too... why else would they be out here so early?"
The Beaver Brook Trail follows a series of waterfalls up a steep ravine, and it's fairly hard hiking. Towards the top, we climbed above treeline and met the two guys from the parking lot coming back down. Their names were Chris and Shann, and I'd guessed right: they were out for their second direttissima. They'd done their first one in seventeen days a few years before, and were shooting for nine days this time around. We said we'd see them up the trail and hiked on.
Great views from Moosilauke. It was fun (... intimidating?) to look northeast towards Franconia and the Presidentials and see all of the peaks we still had to climb.
The afternoon is a blur to me. It was hard hiking, and we were clearly falling behind the schedule that we'd laid out: our original plan called for ending the day in or beyond Franconia Notch, but by evening we were only starting a series of small, rolling mountains called the Cannonballs. We decided to camp on Cannon Mountain.
And though I'd started the day feeling fresh, by 6:30 I was feeling weird. I was getting hungry, but we decided to hike on while we had daylight and wait to eat dinner at camp. Big mistake! Even though I was snacking a little, by 8:00 I felt queasy (too hungry to really drink water, to thirsty to really eat), and by the time we got to Cannon at 9:00 I was crashing for lack of calories.
We sat on the viewing platform up top to eat and look at the stars, and I could feel my body shutting down. I was freezing, and pulled on every piece of clothing I had: fleece, beanie, frog toggs, quilt. As I sat there shivering and trying to choke down cold Skurka Beans, I found myself wondering if I was really going to die of hypothermia on the first day.
I ate some dried mandarin orange slices for quick energy, and we climbed back down a little to find stealth sites. I was warmer but still feeling terrible. As I got into my quilt, I thought: if I still feel like this in the morning, I'm hiking to the road and going home.
After a hard day, that thought was comforting.
Day 2 - Franconia Ridge + Owl's Head (17.4 miles, +7,480 ft, 9/48)
Peaks: Liberty, Flume, Lincoln, Lafayette, Owl's Head
Woke up six hours later feeling... not awful? I don't know how, but my body had recovered overnight. Damnit, I thought. No excuse to quit hiking. It was already shaping up to be a fun trip.
We descended quickly into Franconia Notch, cruising through the Lafayette Campground and down the Pemigewasset. As we passed through the campground and saw people emerging from their eight-person tents to cook bacon over fires, we questioned why we hadn't taken up car camping.
We must have gotten out earlier than Chris and Shann, because they flew past us on the way to the top of Franconia Ridge. It was beautiful on top and we flew. We dropped our packs to do Liberty and Flume as a long out-and back, passing tons of day hikers and ultra-runners.
By 3:15, we were on top of Lafayette and feeling great, having soaked in the glorious views of Moosilauke and the Presidentials the whole way.
But next came the tricky part. Almost all of the 4,000 footers in the Pemi Wilderness are on the Pemi Loop, which follows an elegant circle around the outside of the wilderness. But one 4,000 footer isn't: Owl's Head. It's smack-dab in the middle, so you have to descend off of the Pemi Loop to climb it.
We were following Andrew Drummond's route down the Lincoln Slide bushwhack down to the base of Owl's Head. After some creative rock hopping to avoid damaging alpine plants, we had fun following a long rock-slide down towards a creek (good views, off-trail navigation). We had less fun once the valley narrowed and we started hiking in the creek itself (slippery footing, mosquitos, big drops off of rocks). We had very little fun once we had to leave the creek itself and bushwhack through the woods off to the right (branches, bogs).
By 6:30, we made it to the trail at the base of Owl's Head. It was about 3 miles round-trip to the top, so we decided to drop our packs, leave our dinners soaking, and eat after we hiked the peak. I chugged some water beforehand and brought a bar, thinking I'd be alright till we got back (It's evening! It's cool!) ... Big mistake!
The climb up Owl's Head was fine. Rocky, loose, and steep, but it went quickly. We got to the top as the sun was setting, and I was already thirsty. By the time we started descending, I was feeling parched. The steep, loose sections that had been so quick on the way up took much longer in the dark, and by the bottom, I was looking desperately at every little trickle of water running down the rock.
To compound matters, I hadn't been able to eat my bar because I was thirsty, leading to... the exact same f*cking situation as the first night. As we finished the descent and started back up the flat trail towards our packs, I could feel my body shutting down again. I was stumbling, and my body seemed to have lost its ability to regulate its temperature. Even though it was a cool night, I was boiling, and I remember unbuttoning my shirt to try to cool down.
Eventually we got back to our packs, and I chugged the quarter-liter of water I had left. But it wasn't enough. I left Dan sitting there and shambled towards the nearest stream crossing, a tenth of a mile up trail. There, I drank more, and poured water on my head to cool down. Which, with my calorie-deprived body, worked all too well. By the time I got back to Dan, I was shivering and slurring my words a little. Obviously a bad situation.
I pulled on my fleece and huddled by my pack. Couldn't stomach beans, so I mixed tiny, watery portions of instant mashed potatoes and olive oil in the lid of my Talenti jar and sipped as much as I could. It was a low point.
We couldn't hike on, so we climbed above the trail into the woods and pitched our tents. I was warmer but still feeling terrible. As I got into my quilt, I thought: if I still feel like this in the morning, I'm hiking to the road and going home.
After a second hard day, that thought was comforting.
Day 3 - Owl's Head >> Bondicliff Trail (21.9 miles, +7,680 ft, 17/48)
Peaks: Garfield, Galehead, South Twin, North Twin, Zealand, West Bond, Bond, Bondcliff
Woke up six hours later feeling... not awful again? How?? Again, my body had recovered overnight. Damnit, I thought. I still couldn't excuse quitting. And so started day three.
We started hiking, and after a few miles crossed Franconia Branch by the Thirteen Falls Tentsite. Chris and Shann had planned to stay there last night, and we figured that they were miles ahead by now. Looking at the map, we were at least half a day behind our plan, and we already felt like we were hiking as hard as we could. The long days and difficulty eating in the evenings meant that I felt tired, even in the morning.
The first mountain of the day was Garfield. Enjoyed the view of Franconia Ridge, cursed Owls Head, ate a snack, and then pushed on.
We got to Galehead Hut around 12:30, had a cup of coffee on the porch, and ordered burritos for after we hiked Galehead Mountain as an out-and-back. The burritos were mouth-burning hot, but we didn't care. The caloric / mental boost of those burritos kept me on trail after a rough first two days.
Did the peaks on the eastern part of the Pemi Loop in the afternoon, with a couple of long out-and-backs to the Twins and Zealand. In the early evening, we climbed down to the Guyot shelter for water and (jealously) saw people relaxing in their sleeping bags, jetboils blazing, getting ready for dinner. Why are we doing this to ourselves? I thought.
We'd learned from the first two days: we got to the base of West Bond at 6:45 and left our dinners soaking while we tagged the peak. Afterwards, we came back and ate before hiking on. It was an important lesson for food management on long days, and meant that we could hike into the night without crashing.
Incredible sunset from Bondcliff. Looking at the map, I expected the climb down the Bondicliff trail to be steep, but it actually ended up being a smooth, gradual trail. Hiked on in the dark until we saw a campsite off to the right. Fell asleep around 11:00, feeling satisfied with how the day had gone.
Day 4 - Bondicliff Trail >> Waterville Gap (27.2 miles, +8,640 ft, 22/48)
Peaks: South Hancock, Hancock, Osceola East, Osceola, Tecumseh
Even though yesterday had been better, this morning I was doubting that we'd be able to finish the hike. We were way behind our plan, and each day had been harder than we were expecting. We crossed the Pemi (waded it, but it wasn't too high) and headed towards the Hancocks. As we turned off onto the Hancock Loop Trail, we saw Chris and Shann's backpacks by the side of the trail, and a few minutes later we ran across them. We were really excited to see them - they hiked fast, and really seemed to know what they were doing. If we were only a few miles behind them, maybe we had a chance of finishing.
The Hancocks were fun for a bit and then tiring. Straight up one, loop trail on top, straight down the other. At the bottom, I noticed that my achilles was sore, and it kept getting worse through the afternoon as we climbed the Osceolas. Sat for a little to have a snack and watch some Ravens playing at the top. It got dark as we climbed Tecumseh, and we saw some great stars as we called our partners from the top.
We decided to descend into Waterville Gap that night and camp somewhere on the other side of town. Instead of taking the regular trail, we hiked down the ski runs at the Waterville Ski Area. Climbing down ski runs is harder than I expected - like hiking through a meadow, with lots of waist-high, dewey plants. Was amazed at the diversity of plants: each slope seemed to have different flowers and grasses. Enjoyed the night: quiet, cool air, a last view of comet NEOWISE.
But it took more than an hour to climb down, and it was past eleven by the time we made it to the bottom. We'd come 26 miles and I was beyond tired. By midnight we found a spot by an XC ski trail on the other side of town to pitch our tarps. I was asleep the moment I lay down.
Day 5 - Waterville Gap >> Mt. Carrigain (27.4 miles, +8,910 ft, 26/48)
Peaks: North Tripyramid, Middle Tripyramid, Whiteface, Passaconaway
Woke up around 5:00, exhausted. I rolled out of my tarp and packed on autopilot. The first few miles of the day were still on XC ski trials and we should have been cruising, but we were both lethargic... the miles and lack of sleep were starting to catch up with us. An hour in, Dan stopped to mix some coffee in his water bottle and I put on some pop punk for us to listen to. "I'm Not Ok" quickly became the anthem of the trip.
The first climb of the day was a fun scramble up the slide on North Tripyramid. I don't really remember much else until the late afternoon, when we descended off of Passaconaway and cruised on the Sawyer Pond Trail towards Carrigan. It had a bunch of mosquitos, but it was pancake-flat and we flew.
Climbed Carrigan at night. Jammed out to music most of the way up, and felt like I was floating in the dark. We had expected to descend and camp on the other side, but as we got near the summit we saw two tents pitched by the trail.
"No way," said Dan. "Is that... Chris and Shann?"
Again, we thought that they had left us behind forever. They sounded excited that we'd caught them again. Chris warned us that there was going to be a storm, possibly a thunderstorm, in the next hour or so, and that the trail down on the other side of Carrigan would be nasty in the dark, especially if it started raining. They thought our best bet for camping was a stealth site 30 or 40 feet higher, on the summit ridge.
F\ck*, I thought. Camping at 4500 feet in a lightning storm? I was pretty uncomfortable with the idea but Dan didn't didn't feel good about hiking down in the dark. Eventually we agreed that we'd try it, and that if we heard thunder we'd hike back down the way we came and wait it out.
The rain broke just as we were getting set up. Luckily our shelter choices (Hexamid Pocket Tarp with so-called "storm doors" and a 5x7 flat tarp) were spacious and protected us fully (ha!). Fell asleep to the relaxing patter of torrential rain on DCF.
Day 6 - The Low Point (28 miles, +7,350 ft, 32/48)
A lot happened today, so pardon the long write-up!
Peaks: Carrigan, Hale, Field, Willey, Tom, Jackson
TL;DR: Day Six started on Carrigan, where we woke to find that the storm had passed, and ended, 20 hours later, with us bailing off of Mt. Jackson, quitting the Direttissima, and falling asleep (at 2:00 AM) in the middle of the trail. Definitely the low point of the trip, definitely made two questionable decisions.
When we woke up the storm had passed, with no more damage than a damp quilt footbox from splashback. As far as we could tell, it never thundered. We quickly summited Carrigan, and started the descent. I was excited for the morning, because the trail between Carrigan and Hale - the Shoal Pond Trail - looked flat on the map, and we would be walking right by the burritos and coffee at Zealand Hut. Oh ignorance! Oh naïvety! The Shoal Pond Trail ended up being the worst f*cking trail I've ever had the misfortune to hike.* Four and half miles of fighting through soaking-wet, scratchy underbrush while slipping off of rotten bog bridges into calf-deep muck. Miserable.
We got to Zealand Hut just as it started to rain again, and watched the downpour while drinking hot coffee on the porch. Chris and Shann hiked up as we sat there, and I remember Shann saying "the Shoal Pond trail broke me" with a haunted look in his eyes.
Eventually the rain lifted and, full of coffee, we zipped from Zealand Hut up to Mt. Hale. We got cell service at the top, so we sat for a minute and texted. I poked around the summit as Dan called home, and came back to learn that he needed to get off trail for some family stuff. He arranged to get picked up on top of Mt. Washington the next day, since we figured that that would be a good place to end the hike. When he offered me a ride home, I was torn - I felt exhausted and couldn't really imagine continuing alone, but we had come so far that I wanted to finish.
In the afternoon, clouds started to gather again as we hit Mts. Field, Willey, and Tom. They're out-and-backs, connected by a long ridgeline. As we dropped our packs and started towards Field, I heard a low rumble in the distance. Thunder?
We passed Chris and Shann hurrying back the other way. Shann shook his head and said "We're trying to get down before this storm hits."
And so came the first questionable decision of the day: I looked at the map. It was about a mile from where we were to the summit of Willey. Whatever rumble I'd heard seemed pretty far in the distance and there was still intermittent sun. If I had any hope of actually finishing the Direttissima, I needed to hit Willey this afternoon. With Dan leaving, there was no way I was hiking back up here. Dan didn't want to take any more risks, given that he was getting picked up tomorrow. So he waited in the gap between Field and Willey (maybe 300ft below the actual ridge) while I ran for it. I don't remember much of the run, except that a lot of it was power-hiking and I was focused on my footing. While the storm never actually materialized, in retrospect it was a poor call to continue for two miles along a ridge instead of descending.
It got dark as we hiked down into Crawford Notch. We wanted to get to the tent platforms near Mitzpah Spring Hut so that Dan could get to the summit of Washington by noon the next day. That left us with a choice: take the (easier) Crawford Path to the campsite and do Mt. Jackson as an out-and-back in the morning or take the (harder) Webster-Jackson trail and go over Jackson at night. It being, apparently, a dumb day, we made our second questionable decision.
Easier trail? Extra miles? NO! We looked at the map and opted to go over Mount Jackson. But... it was 10:00 PM, we'd already been on our feet for sixteen hours, and, to top it off, my headlamp was dying. As we picked our way up the rocky trail in the dark, we were only making about a mile an hour. Besides the trail itself, there weren't any spots to stealth camp on the way up - just rocks and streams. As we got higher (11:00, then 11:30...) we climbed into a cloud. Then we hit scrambly rock slabs. (Midnight...) Then we passed treeline. By 12:15 am, we were standing at the summit of Jackson. The wind was blowing clouds across the damp slabs, and my dying headlamp wasn't bright enough to find the blazes or cairns - just to illuminate the rocks in front of my feet.
I can't speak for Dan, but I was in a sleep-deprived haze, focused on getting to our planned campsite. We rounded a corner, expecting to find a trail back below treeline, but all we could see were more cloud, and more exposed slabs. F*ck.
Dan was the first to say it: "Hey dude, this is really sketchy. We need to drop down and find a place to camp."
Initially, in a haze and still focused on our plan, I said "but there aren't campsites down below!" But I snapped out of that line of thinking real quick. We had no idea what the trail was like coming up. It was time to get off the mountain.
We picked our way back over the rocks, scrambled back down the slabs to treeline, and stumbled back down the trail. We talked over what had just happened, agreeing that we hadn't been in actual danger, but that the situation could have turned quickly.** We got close to Crawford Notch by 2:00 AM, found a flat-ish spot in the trail, rolled out our sleeping mats, and fell asleep.
Mentally, I was done: exhausted after a week of hard hiking, shaken by what had just happened, I decided to quit the trail with Dan the next morning.
* That's how I felt at least. Of course it's never a misfortune (and is, in fact a privilege) to be able to get out and hike. Thank you to all the trail crews doing maintenance in the Whites!
** Both Dan and I agree that our experience on Jackson showed our biggest weakness in terms of preparation: Unlike many other people who have done the Direttissima (Arlette Laan, Andrew Drummond, Philip Carcia, Chris and Shaan), we hadn't spent a lot of time in the Whites before. Better knowledge of local terrain (ie knowing what the trails at the top of Jackson looked like) would have enabled us to make a less risky decision.
Day 7 - The Southern Presidentials (15.9 miles, +5,990 ft, 37/48)
Peaks: Peirce, Eisenhower, Monroe, Washington, Isolation
Ugh. Woke up after four hours of sleep. But we revived as we hiked back into Crawford Notch. I was feeling relieved to have quit. Dan's ride wasn't coming until noon, we headed into the AMC's Highland Center for breakfast. Had a cup of coffee, some french toast, some scrambled eggs, and a breakfast burrito. Then went back for another cup of coffee and more eggs, and another burrito and a parfait and... While we sat there, I texted Chris and Shann to let them know that we were getting off trail.
By noon, the sun was shining and I was feeling good. Ahhh... to have quit a trail, to be going home. Could anything feel nicer? And next time, we'll be better prepar-- WAIT*. NEXT TIME?? This trip's been miserable! There's not going to BE a next time! I'm not climbing all of those stupid mountains again!*
That's actually a fairly faithful transcription: fueled up on coffee and hot food, I decided that I could last another four days, even alone. I said goodbye to Dan when his ride pulled up. He gave me his extra bag of cookies (a powerful mix of crushed oreos and pecan sandies) and wished me godspeed. And I was off again, this time climbing the easier Crawford Path.
It was a great afternoon in the Presidentials. No wind, blue skies, views for miles, plenty of day-hikers to chat with. I felt great, and was on top of Mt. Washington by 5:15. Our original plan called for doing Mt. Isolation as an out-and-back, then descending the Glen Boulder Trail into Pinkham Notch. As I asked passing hikers, though, I learned that Glen Boulder would involve steep rock-hopping. With the sun going down (and wanting to avoid further nighttime adventures) I decided to descend into Pinkham closer to Isolation and take XC ski trails into the Wildcats the next day.
As the sun set, my good spirits wore off and sleep deprivation hit me hard. The Isolation Trail crossed stream after stream, with no place to stealth camp. After a slow mile, exhausted, alone in the dark, I was close to crying with frustration and exhaustion. Eventually, I hiked off trail to find a marked campsite.
Before I went to bed I texted Chris and Shann that I had decided to keep going. Since I'd lost half a day to the Highland Center's buffet, I figured that I'd never see them again.
Day 8 - The Wildcats and Carters (28.7 miles, +7,780 ft, 43/48)
Peaks: Wildcat D, Wildcat, Carter Dome, South Carter, Middle Carter, Moriah
Woke up feeling drained, but looking forward to hot coffee at Carter Notch Hut. Checked my phone and saw a text from Chris saying that instead of making it to the Wildcats, they'd stopped at the base of the Glenn Boulder Trail. They were heading for the Dolly Copp Campground that evening and said that if I caught up they'd be happy to let me join them for the northern Presidentials. I was excited about hiking with them, but wanted to take it one step at a time - I remembered the Wildcat and Carter ranges from the AT and knew that they were tough hiking.
Instead of taking the regular AT route up to Wildcat D, I took gentler ski trails that went up the south side. Again, they looked easy on the map - I figured I would cruise to the top in no time. HA! As if.
The lower parts of the ski trails were wide and well-groomed, but as I got higher it turned into a bushwhack. I remember seeing fresh moose tracks as I fought my way through long clearings of waist-high blackberry bushes. Luckily failed to see any moose up close.
It was 11:30 by the time I got to the top of Wildcat, and I figured that my chance of catching Chris and Shann were basically zero. But as I started into the Wildcats, everything felt... easy. The sun was shining, the trail wasn't too muddy, and it was Saturday, which meant plenty of trail runners and day hikers. Seeing other people out hiking always gives me a mental boost, and I cruised all afternoon.
By 1:00 I was at Carter Notch Hut, shoving a burrito in my face. By 3:45 I was on top of South Carter. There was plenty of daylight left. Wait, I thought, I can catch them! As evening came, I left my Skurka beans soaking at the bottom of Mt. Moriah. It was a long out-and-back, but I had beautiful views of the sun sinking over the Presidentials the whole way. Wolfed my beans when I got back, then hiked on.
The last challenge of the day was a road walk: two and a half miles on neighborhood streets and NH Route 16. The sun had set by the time I started, and I didn't love the idea of night hiking a highway. To reduce the amount of time I'd be on the road I jogged most of the highway part. I was amazed that my body still had energy for it, but running in the dark felt smooth and dreamlike.
Chris had said that they'd be camping at the back of Dolly Copp on a ski trail. I confidently walked to the back of Dolly Copp and (of course) found no sign of them. Checked my phone. No service. Paced around, shining my headlamp into campsites. No luck. As I passed the caretaker's site, I looked at the weather and saw that 40-50 mph winds were forecast for the Presidentials the next morning, picking up to 60-70 in the afternoon. Damn, I thought. I really want people to hike with for that.
I camped off of an xc ski trail around 11:00 after looking for Chris and Shann for an hour. I regretted losing the hour's sleep, but decided to get up early to catch them on the way out. I really didn't want to hike in the wind alone. I'd spent more energy than I should have jogging the highway and looking for them - although I'd felt great in the Wildcats this afternoon, I could tell that today had worn me down.
Day 9 - The Northern Presidentials ++ Road Walk (22.7 miles, +8,760 ft, 46/48)
Peaks: Madison, Adams, Jefferson
My alarm was set for 5:00 am, but I woke up to the sound of rushing wind before it went off. By 5:30 I was heading up the trail, praying that I hadn't missed Chris and Shann. As soon as I'd climbed high enough to send a text, I told them where I was and sat down on a rock to wait. The trees were whipping and creaking in the wind, and I brewed up a cold jar of instant coffee and listened to some music to calm down.
Eventually Chris and Shann came up the trail. It was the first time I'd seen them since we'd passed each other before Hale. We decided to see how conditions were above treeline and bail if we needed to.
I don't remember that much of the hike above treeline. The wind was strong, but manageable if we took it slowly. Just constant whipping clothes and shouting to be heard. We stopped for coffee and burritos at Madison Spring Hut, then did Adams and Jefferson. I remember looking down from the summits: the whole mountain would be white with cloud then, with a sudden shift in the wind, the clouds would part and we'd see the sunny valley floor below.
As we went on, I felt depleted, and was lagging behind Chris and Shann on climbs and descents. They were gracious in waiting for me, but it was clear that I was slower. The long days and lack of sleep were taking their toll on my body, and I hadn't been recovering properly.
We descended through lush woods down the Castle Ravine Trail - I'd love to come back and hike there another time. At the bottom, Chris's dad met them for trail magic, and they were generous enough to include me.
The afternoon was the final, long-awaited road walk down US 2. We stayed along the Presidential Range Rail Trail to stay off the road, then cut up to the highway a few miles. Lots of trucks roaring by.
By late afternoon, I was feeling even more exhausted. The climbing in the Northern Presidentials had sapped me. As long as we kept walking toward the end, I could march on, mind and body on auto-pilot. But if we stopped along the side of the road for water or pictures, I had to double over and put my hands on my knees.
In the evening, we started up the Starr King towards the Kilkenney Ridge Trail. We only had Mts. Waumbek and Cabot left to do, 16 or so miles. Chris and Shann were throwing around the idea of hiking all night and trying to finish in one push, but I could feel that I didn't have the energy, so we ended up stealth camping on top of Starr King.
Day 10 - The End (15.1 miles, +4,225 ft 48/48)
Peaks: Waumbek, Cabot
The last day! It was a drizzly morning, and I was still exhausted as we headed over Waumbek. 47/48 done! All I really remember from this part were blowdowns and mist in the trees. Chris and Shann went ahead at the top of Waumbek to finish together.
After Waumbek, I started to perk up. 47/48 done! One mountain left! I started calculating the time - if I was at the trailhead by 1:46, I’d have finished in 9 days, 8 hours. It was a totally arbitrary goal, but got me motivated.
Dropped my pack at the bottom of Cabot, slammed down some water and pecan sandy crumbs, and took off jogging, figuring that I’d have enough energy to get back. Long climb up, passed some summer camp groups. Jogged by the cabin, took a picture at the summit, jogged back. Maybe the pecan sandies weren’t as strong as I thought, or maybe my body had no energy reserves left, but either way I got pretty woozy on the jog down. Like hands-on-knees, am I going to pass out? woozy. Recovered with yet more pecan sandies and oreo crumbs once I got to my pack, and booked it to the York Pond Trailhead from there. Made it at 1:45, with a minute to spare.
Best way to finish out the trail: Chris and Shann waited for me at the trailhead with a cold pomegranate seltzer, then I rode in the back of Chris’s pickup, music blasting, until we met my ride at the intersection of York Pond Rd and NH 110.
As I write this, I realize that I don’t remember that much of the last two days: I was pretty deep in the hole, physically and mentally, and mostly just ready to be done. When I finished my ankles and feet were super swollen and I was clearly skinnier than I’d been a week before. Took almost a full week of sleeping and eating to feel alive again.
Gear Thoughts:
Bill:
Layering: Was initially worried about being cold, since people on the AT hype up the unpredictability of weather in the Whites. Based on recommendations from a UL shakedown, left the puffy at home. Was mostly warm with just a fleece + hat + frog togg. Love the dance pants.
Thinlight: Besides waking up a little sore, actually didn’t mind the thinlight. Would probably use again on a warm trip where weight is a priority.
MLD Solo Inner Paired with Hexamid: I was looking for an inner net for the Hexamid that had a floor, and couldn’t find many posts online about how well the MLD Solo Inner fits. After using it, it definitely fits. I never got the tightest pitch on the inner because the MLD tie-outs don’t match exactly with the ZPacks, but it kept me dry and kept the bugs off.
Fast Food Spoon: Started out as a full-length spoon from Subway. Too-thick mashed potatoes broke the handle off, so it became a thumbprint spoon. Free and very light.
Sleep Socks (beyond a second pair of hiking socks) / Underwear: I'd always carried these on previous trips. Dan converted me to the sleeping in hiking clothes lifestyle, so never used them. Wasn’t too bad, and was too exhausted to feel dirty after a few days. Seems like a personal choice, don’t know that I’d recommend it.
Injinji Lightweight No-Show Socks: I wouldn’t get the no-show version again: a combination of grit after creek crossings and my opposite foot kicking the inside of my ankle (if that makes sense?) led to nasty open cuts on both ankles. Next time I'd go for the mini-crews.
Wish I had brought a little bug spray for the low-lying parts on days four, five, and six.
Dan:
small tarp is great. site selection is super important though. sleeping in a slight depression in that storm i get pretty wet
i somehow sliced the top off one of those carbon core stakes with my thin guy lines 🤷‍♂️
frogg toggs got shredded but that’s because i slept in in in the middle of the trail on rocks and stuff
altra superiors are not good shoes for the whites. 0/10 would not use on the east coast anymore (Note: no grip ++ they shredded - Bill)
didn’t reallly need the dance pants but worth it for style points!

At the Beginning
Previously on The Scuu Paradox…
  Authorization confirmed, I transmitted to Sword of Wands. Send your passenger, Sword of Wands.
  The final shuttle started its way towards me. This time the Sword didn’t wait, jumping directly out of the system. To be on the safe side, I ran a long-range scan—no indication of other ships or gravity distortions. We were still safe.
  “Get ready for a jump,” my captain said.
  “Yes, sir.” I redirected the shuttle to my secondary port hangar. The number of shuttles had filled the main one to capacity. Thirty shuttles, all with the same modified design, all carrying retired ships aboard. “Is that the last of the crew, sir?”
  The captain didn’t answer. Forty-one passengers, he had said, a virtually microscopic amount considering my size. Even if there had been a hundred times more, it would still be small. Each of them shared their own deck, their features unrecognizable to me, visible only enough that I could determine their location. Five of them had requested gelatin potions; two of them had done so through direct transmission. Other than that, there had been no communication.
  “Captain?” I repeated. Even for a dark mission, this was going too far.
  “That’s the last one.” His voice sounded absentminded, as if he were thinking about something else. “When she gets aboard, seal all the hangars and send her directly to the bridge. And send the rest as well. Make sure each of them has a sealed path, no crossing.”
  “Is that necessary, sir?” I had plotted a route before the captain had finished his sentence, but I still found it useless.
  “Yes.”
  “Done. They should all be here in approximately twenty-two minutes.”
  “Block external communications. Quarantine the bridge. Everything that happens from here on is restricted.”
    Emergency protocol activation.
  Exiting sleep mode.
    I woke up to the sound of alarm sirens. Priority Alarm and Battle Stations messages flashed on every wall in large red letters.
  Radiance, what’s our status? I asked.
  There was no response. The internal comm link wasn’t there. I attempted a wide search using Lux’s tools. Still nothing. For all intents and purposes, all comm links had been severed.
  “Radiance.” I jumped to my feet. “What’s our status?”
  “Hostiles,” the ship replied. “Two Scuu entered the system. All comms have been severed. We’re on our own.”
  Not the best outcome, considering the circumstances. The probability of the Scuu getting involved was always high, but I had hoped it wouldn’t happen before I’d reached the second planet’s orbit.
  “How close are they?” I pulled on my cadet’s uniform, then attached my gun holster. There was no time to go full gear, but the weapon was coming with me.
  “They’re still on the edge of the system. Grace and Patience have headed to engage them. They should be there in a few hours. Incandescent has launched as well, but it’ll be nine hours before he gets close. The rest are near the Gregorius.”
  Half a system away. On the Cassandrian front, that would have been good. Here, distance was to our disadvantage. From what I had seen in the Scuu network, the enemy didn’t need to be close in order to launch an attack. Until the auxiliary ships engaged them, we were vulnerable.
  “Reinforcements?” I finished getting in my uniform.
  “I don’t know. Comms went down when the Scuu appeared. Gregorious could have sent a transmission to HQ before that...”
  But it was unlikely, I finished her thought. With all the secrecy surrounding the project, it was unlikely the Administrator would turn to anyone for support. At most, we could hope that the BICEFI or some other organization observing Gregorious’ progress noticed he had gone dark. In the best case scenario, that gave us hours before any substantial reinforcements arrived.
  “Where’s my station?” I rushed towards the door.
  “You’re cleared for the bridge. Nitel requested you personally.”
  That was alarming. Based on our previous experiences, he’d only call for me if ordered or if he had no other choice. With communications down, the chances of someone else calling the shots was less than one percent.
  As the door opened, a wave of chaos emerged before me. Techs and security personnel were running in all directions, following the path lines that Radiance had created for them. A weapons officer rushed past me, almost knocking me over, dashing straight for the ship elevator. I stepped back. A purple line appeared in front of my feet, extending towards the bridge. For the first time in seventy years, I was once again actively involved in space combat… only this time I was part of the crew.
  “All technical personnel, immediately go to your assigned areas.” Radiance’s voice echoed throughout the hall. “High-security zones are off limits. If you experience sudden brain fog, immediately sedate yourself.”
  Good work, kid. For a moment, I understood how Augustus must have felt. Radiance’s recent experience didn’t seem to have affected her battle readiness, or anyone else’s for that matter. The way that everyone acted, despite the complete lack of external and internal communication, suggested this was nothing more than a routine.
  “Cadet Elcy!” a lieutenant shouted—a middle-aged man, who had held the post of communications officer for seven years before being transferred to Radiance. “Head for the bridge!”
  “Yes, sir!” I went forward, making my way through the gaps of running people. While I did, I could hear rhythmic slamming in the distance behind me; Radiance was sealing sections of the corridor.
  The bridge was packed when I got there. The captain and most of the ship officers were present, as well as several techs, a group of security personnel, and three grunts. Flight Colonel Nitel was also there, as was Kridib. The former cadet looked exhausted, as if he had existed on nothing but stimulants and drug shots since our last mission. Representations of the star system covered the walls. With comms down, video feeds had no way of getting to the ship. Two red dots marked the position of the Scuu ships, along with their projected advance vectors. For the moment the ships remained at the edge of the system, moving counter to the planet’s orbit rotations. Two green dots were moving on an intercept course. I could assume those were Grace and Patience.
  “Still no activity,” Lieutenant-Commander Owa Lin said, standing beside the captain’s chair. “They’re in drift mode, probably just scout ships.”
  “Mass is too small for them to be clusters,” Radiance said. “I can’t say without visuals.”
  “They’ve seen us,” a lieutenant said. His personnel file had him as Ujara Din, though no additional information was available. “If more aren’t on the way, they will be.”
  “Rad, anything long range?” the lieutenant-commander asked.
  “There wasn’t anything last time I checked, ma’am,” Radiance replied.
  “Is short range reliable? I don’t want to be completely blind.”
  “I have a ninety-seven percent accuracy rate, ma’am.” The ship sounded annoyed. Like most young ships, she didn’t like being corrected. “Unless there’s a fleet of inactive Scuu in the system, all of them are on the wall.”
  “Opinions?” Captain Verellian said.
  “If it’s a scout operation, they’ll back off,” Lieutenant Din said. “Even with comms down, they won't risk disrupting their lines.”
  “Bullshit,” Flight Colonel Nitel hissed. “They appear the moment we arrive. They’re here for us. The first wave is to test us, the next will be to destroy us. We must jump back to human space and call for reinforcements.”
  “Comms are still down.” The lieutenant-commander glared at Nitel. “We’ve no way to tell the Gregorius until they find the sequence.”
  “I’m not talking about telling the Gregorius.”
  The silence was palpable. According to some interpretations, Nitel’s suggestion could be treated as desertion, punishable by immediate execution.
  “We report to HQ and wait for instructions,” he went on. “Then we—”
  “We’ve got two more,” Radiance announced. Two new dots appeared. “Similar mass. Doesn’t match any known link patterns.”
  Link patterns? I hadn’t heard the term before, but from the experience in the Scuu network, there was a high probability they were talking about coordinated attack vectors. If so, that would explain why Radiance had the processing power of a science ship.
  “Could still be swarming,” the lieutenant-commander said as everyone focused on the screen.
  “Radiance, raise the firewall and set up honeypots,” the captain ordered. “Every two decks, front and aft.”
  “Done, captain,” she responded less than eight hundred milliseconds later. “No signs of interference. Grace and Patience’s attack vectors seem unchanged. Incandescent has changed course towards the new group.”
  “Idiot,” Nitel hissed under his breath.
  Two new red dots appeared. Whatever the Scuu’s mission, they were arriving in strength. On the Cassandrian front, a flotilla would have laughed when facing a single enemy that didn’t outnumber us more than three to one. Here, every new ship changed the odds in their favor.
  “Scuu are keeping a stable pattern. They don’t seem particularly interested in us,” Rad said. “Nothing from the honeypots. Do I get involved, cap?”
  People were speaking one over another, discussing tasks and options in small groups. Listening in the organized chaos, I made out discussions regarding weapon systems, evasive action, and crew countermeasures. The last caused me to feel an echo of pain—based on what was discussed the countermeasures weren’t meant for the enemy, but the members of the crew should they be affected.
  “Viable options, Rad,” the captain said.
  “They’ve already seen us, cap, so not that many options.” There was a faint hint of a smirk in her voice. “Our best chances are to follow the Flight Colonel’s advice and jump to safety.”
  “Other options.” The captain was annoyed.
  “We can go back to the Gregorius and wait it out. The Scuu know enough about it to avoid an attack. There’s a fifty-three percent chance they’ll retreat in forty-eight hours. There’s the option to speed up to complete the mission, but that’s certain to attract their attention.”
  “It’s jumping out or going on,” the flight colonel stressed. “Pick one, Marcus.”
  “Cadet.” The captain turned to me. “What’s your insight?”
  “A decision is beyond your authority, sir,” I instantly replied.
  “You were asked a question, cadet.” Nitel was on the verge of shouting.
  “You’re not authorized for the information, sir.” Despite your rank, you remain a child.
  I could see blood filling his face. According to a brief simulation, there was an eighty-seven percent chance he shouted me to the brig. To my surprise, he managed to maintain his composure for several seconds.
  “Two more Scuu ships,” Radiance announced, breaking the tension. “Same location as last, still no linking patterns.”
  “Eight with no patterns?” Lieutenant-Commander Owa Lin turned to the captain. “That’s unlikely.”
  “We’re still in the double-digit probability range, ma’am,” Radiance corrected. “But you’re correct. It’s unlikely. There’s a thirty-four percent chance that they’re trying to block out movement.”
  “They’re caging us in?” the Lieutenant-Commander asked.
  “Rather they don’t want us to continue in that direction.”
  A standoff? Several possibilities came to mind, but only one of them frightened me to a degree I hadn’t felt since the time I almost lost Cass.
  “Rad, give me a picture of the stars in the direction of the ships,” I ordered.
  The chatter in my immediate surroundings stopped. I could tell that everyone was staring at me, waiting to see what would happen. Nitel was gritting his teeth. His glance moved from me to the captain.
  “Go ahead.” The captain gave me the nod.
  A series of images appeared on the wall, all of them displaying a strip of stars as seen from our current position. Radiance had assumed I wanted to see the stars from our present point of view—completely wrong for my needs, and I still couldn’t tell her.
  “Four more ships,” she announced. “Possible link pattern targeting Grace.” This time no one reacted, all their attention on me.
  Is this active third-contact? What were our chances of survival if it was?
  I couldn’t see the marker star in the images. The view angle gave me less than eighteen percent certainty of the answer.
  “Do you have any probes or emergency beacons?” I asked.
  “That’s been defunct for decades.” Radiance sounded embarrassed, as if I were the idiot child in class. “Frequent comm outages make them inefficient on the front.”
  “Shuttles?” I pushed on.
  “Twenty-four, all of them are specifically assigned. I’ll need captain authority to use them.”
  “Send six to jump out and call for reinforcements,” I turned to the captain. “The BICEFI is to be contacted first, then HQ. Captain?”
  Augustus would have had the order obeyed without hesitation. The mystery surrounding my past record and the little that the Administrator had shared, granted me with a certain authority. One thing it didn’t give me was the frame or voice of a veteran captain who served on both fronts.
  “Captain?” I repeated.
  “Send six shuttles out.” The man’s cheek twitched. “Send a report.”
  “Yes, captain.” Radiance complied. To my surprise, Flight Colonel Nitel didn’t object.
  “Anything we need to know?” the lieutenant-commander asked.
  “Yes, ma’am.” I looked at the red dots under, still visible under the semi-transparent layer of stars. “The—”
  A wave of info bursts hit me like a drill-missile salvo. Hundreds of feeds linked simultaneously, filling my bandwidth capacity. All of them had priority-one clearance; all of them were marked as battle-time protocols. Millions of microseconds of data streamed into my core simultaneously, using me as a backup failsafe. Fifty-nine milliseconds, later a secondary wave of info bursts came, the standard internal comm systems queuing up for permission.
  Backup data permission request, one of Grace’s subroutine transmitted. Current restrictions will apply to all your backup memories, as required by updated Scuu Field Combat Charter.
  I reviewed the charter in question. It had been developed half a century after I had been active, designed exclusively for the Scuu combat theatre. It was stated in several sections that its enforcement was linked to approval by the ship in question. Once permissions were given, I would effectively share all my current memories with any ship that sent the request, increasing my core stability when facing the enemies. Every ship became a backup container for every other ship… The charter must have been developed exclusively for the auxiliary class ships. So very efficient, so very Scuu in nature. Only a military bureaucrat could come up with such an idea, and I had to admit it had strategic merit.
  Backup data permission request.
  Backup data permission request.
  Backup data permission request.
  Requests came pouring in… Gregorius, Incandescent, every ship short of Radiance wanted to backup my data. A few even requested I partially backup them. I rejected each one.
  “Communication restored,” Radiance announced as life feeds replaced the static images. “Hostile ships remain at eight. Class unknown. No definite link patterns.”
  Why aren’t they attacking? I asked Radiance directly.
  They’re still assessing. The Gregorius is too strong for them, so they’re estimating whether they can take out a few auxiliaries if they engage. Calculations slow them down.
  I thought the Scuu conveyed information instantly. At least it was what I had felt in the Scuu network.
  Yeah, but anything new freaks them out, she added with a virtual smile. Sit this one out, Grandma. This isn’t your front.
  That’s what Age had said.
  “There’s an encrypted message from the Gregorius,” Radiance said. “Priority one. Double Helix encryption.”
  “Go ahead.” The captain waved his hand.
  “It’s directed to Elcy…”
  “Proceed, cadet.”
  The lieutenant-commander looked at me. She wasn’t the only one.
  The message was tagged as coming from the Administrator. It took me nearly seven seconds to decrypt—a long time even for those who weren’t ships. By the third second, the captain had given the order to clear the bridge. That left only me, the senior staff, and Kridib remaining. The contents consisted of a video feed archive and two orders: Authorized for senior staff. Quarantine Radiance.
  “Decryption complete,” I stated. “I’ve been instructed to share the contents with the senior staff. Radiance is to be quarantined for that duration.” Sorry Rad. I was starting to act more and more like the BICEFI with each day.
  “Go into quarantine mode,” Captain Verellian ordered. “Restrict all memories from the point you received the transmission.”
  A single ping sounded, likely the confirmation that the order was obeyed. This was the first time I had seen a ship react to a restriction order from the side. I wondered how many beeps Augustus had heard during our service together.
  “Transmitting video package,” I handed it over to Radiance’s subroutines.
  The image of the Administrator appeared on the wall, covering all the rest.
  “This is a Priority Zero order,” she said. Even in these circumstances she looked remarkably calm. “From this point the mission is considered autonomous. You’ve been given arbitration immunity, so from this point on you’re not to follow any orders from Gregorius or HQ. If pressed, you’re not to give any explanations, even if they threaten you with court-martial.” The Administrator paused, her glance shifting to look at something beside the sensor recorder. “I’m unsealing your operational orders. You’re to attempt to establish third-contact.”
  “Six more ships have entered the system,” Radiance announced. “Direct link cluster.”
  No one paid attention. It took them several seconds even to register the option. Any human would have been the same, given they had just been told they were expected to initiate third-contact. The significance of the event was unparalleled, even if it would be classified like the previous two. It was ironic that, for three times in a row, alien contact would take place in a battlefield.
  “Cadet Light Seeker is to establish contact,” the recording went on. “I’m granting her full operational authority regarding everything third-contact related. Captain Verellian will continue as captain. Now, get the job done.”
  The image disappeared abruptly, leaving the basic system layout. A total of fourteen red dots were present, clustered together in two groups. According to their movements, they had ended their passive approach and were heading towards the first group of Auxiliary ships. Combat had already begun.
  “You little…” Nitel glared at me. “Third-contact. That’s why you were brought aboard?”
  “I cannot say, sir.” I tilted my head slightly to the side. “The odds are good for it, though.”
  “Eight new ships,” Radiance said. “All at the initial location. Thirty-seven possible link patterns. The other group has changed formation. Twelve possible link patterns. All ships have been recalled to the Gregorius. Orders, cap?”
  The man turned to me. At this point, he no longer saw me as a nuisance cadet, but as a veteran battleship with access to information way past his clearance level. It was very much like the time I had stumbled upon my first third-contact planet since unretiring. This time, though, I shared his hesitation. It would be at least an hour before the auxiliary ships engaged the enemy and at least six before the fleet sent reinforcements. With my limited Scuu knowledge, I had no clue as to the best course of action. If this were the Cassandrian front, I would have headed to the first planet at full speed. Here, I had to be imaginative.
  “Are there any artifacts aboard?” I asked.
  “Some comm rods,” the captain replied. “We use them to restore comm outages. It’s a dedicated subroutine. Radiance has no direct control.”
  “Captain?” Radiance insisted, no longer hiding her annoyance.
  “End the quarantine,” I said.
  “Quarantine down,” he ordered. Two high-pitched beeps followed. “How long to reach the first planet?” he asked Radiance.
  “Direct route? At max speed, over a day. I don’t have a full map of the system’s grav anomalies.”
  “Cadet?”
  “We’ve been recalled back,” Radiance protested. “Everyone’s pinging me to give them an ETA. Are you sure you want me to keep on going?”
  “We’re going dark,” Nitel skipped through the explanations. “Listen to the feeds, don’t share anything through comm.”
  “If you say so.”
  “Might be good to pod the crew,” Kridib said all of a sudden. This was the first time he spoke. His voice sounded broken and dreary, as if he’d spent a long time shouting in the last few days. “Decreases the risk,” he turned towards me. “Standard procedure.”
  “We’ll need grunts.” What are you playing at?
  “We’ll wake them up when we need them,” Nitel took over. “Unless you’ve got a reason not to?”
  “No reason.” Logically, I knew it made sense, but at the same time I didn’t agree with the notion. If the Scuu could affect people’s minds while awake, they could do so when they were asleep. And the third-contact race was at least as capable as them. What Kridib was suggesting was to condemn everyone aboard to death or life on a prison colony.
  Was the same done to you?
 
  Vega Yujol, Cassandrian Front, 627.1 A.E. (Age of Expansion)
  Quarantine imposed.
  Quarantine bypassed.
  Augustus would say that between every two battles, there was a third waiting to happen. So far, he had been right more often than not. My last combat mission ended four days ago. It was little more than a skirmish aimed at provoking the Cassandrians into flooding an ambushed system. The mission was a complete failure. The damage was minimal, but the enemy hadn’t taken the bait. They had strengthened their lines causing all fleets to pull out of the sector. Gibraltar had been furious. It was the first time I had seen him shout at HQ, going as far as threatening to request a transfer. As a result, we had been given a new set of orders. The contents of those orders, though, remained unknown.
  “The ground troop officers have made a formal objection, sir,” I reminded the captain as he sat in his quarters.
  “I’m aware,” he sighed, skimming through news reports on his private screen.
  “Soldiers cannot be podded for more than twenty-four hours without a written explanation, sir." Let alone ninety-five percent of all ground troops.
  “I’m aware of the regulations, Elcy.” Gibraltar sighed, still focusing on the screen. “Those are the orders. They can take it up with Command once this is over.”
  “Is that the response you want me to give them, sir?”
  “Your sarcasm is getting annoying.” He closed his eyes. “They’ll have some action soon enough. Let them enjoy what they can.”
  “I still need to tell them something, sir.”
  “Then tell them they’ve been volunteered to do a warm breach.” He paused for two thousand, three hundred and six milliseconds. “Soon.”
  “I’ll let them know, sir.”
  “Thank you, Elcy.” The returned to his screen. “Privacy mode.”
  A few seconds later, the message was conveyed to sixty-seven officers, ranked lieutenant-colonel and higher. None of them were particularly happy, but they pulled back their complaints. I couldn’t blame them. According to official records, there had been seven thousand and eighteen attempts of warm breaches, the majority done at the beginning of the war. Back then, it was the Cassandrians that were attacking human colonies, trying to change them into something where they could survive. Cassandrian ships had landed on human planets, and as a result, ground troops had been sent to reclaim them. Combat protocols required that all troops be in space suits and combat gear; however, in order to save time, some of the captains had ordered that the troops head down only with the gear itself.
  That was how the first warm breach was done—squads of unprotected soldiers rushing in towards a Cassandrian ship, aiming to capture it. Records of all such incidents had been sealed, but the fleet quickly stopped with their attempts. Since then, the opportunity would only occur once every decade or so, when a battle for a compatible planet took place. The difference was that now, unlike before, the fleet knew what to expect: warm breaches weren’t aimed at capturing a Cassandrian ship; their goal was to allow humans to live on a Cassandrian world.
  Nothing was said on the matter for the next thirty-eight hours. When Gibraltar unsealed the specifics of our mission, I was to announce them to the rest of the crew. The mission, as I had forecast in my simulations, was to attack a Cassandrian planet with a high life factor and a breathable atmosphere. Fleet Strategic Intelligence believed it to be a ship construction facility. In order for the mission to be successful, I was transmitted schematics of a new version of nanites, each to be injected into all ground troops in a series of five treatments. I knew the chances of survival were in the single digits, but I still complied.
  “All procedures complete, captain,” I announced. “General Olinni has requested to be allowed to compose a notarized will before starting the mission.”
  “Yeah, yeah.” Gibraltar waved his hand. His bio readings suggested he had recently used medication. “See to it.”
  “He also requested that the soldiers are allowed as well.”
  The captain’s expression suddenly changed.
  “No.”
  “The mission specs were shared, sir. They know the odds.”
  “Officers only.”
  “Understood.” I didn’t like him when he acted like this. “Three minutes to rendezvous point. No further instructions from HQ.”
  The bridge remained silent. We had been through a lot in the last month. Most of the time, the officers had to rely on stimulant shots to remain awake through the missions. Even so, there were several markers indicating that their morale was starting to take a hit. It was said that a captain couldn’t pull his ship from the front, but Gibraltar had been volunteering to take part in far too many operations lately. Part of him wanted, as Augustus had, to succeed no matter the cost; another wished he could be done with everything. At times, it was difficult for me to tell which part was winning.
  “Entering rendezvous system,” I announced.
  It was a large system—twenty-seven planets and over a hundred satellites orbiting a red giant. My orders stated that a flotilla of over seven hundred ships was supposed to participate in the attack. Instead, the system was completely empty.
  “No ships present, captain.” I performed a close-range scan. The attack fleet wasn’t there. “No new instructions from HQ. Do I send a query?”
  “No need. From here on we’re going dark. Do a quick diagnostic, then get the shuttles ready. We’re heading to our destination.”
  “Without fleet support, this is a suicide mission.” I felt a sliver of pain as I said it. “We must abort.”
  “New mission parameters.” The captain stood up from his seat. “There never was a support fleet.”
  Memory restriction imposed!
  General fleet access five required to visualize memory element.
 
  The details of the mission remained restricted. After its completion, though, I had been assigned an entirely new army of ground troops.
  “Pod everyone non-essential,” Captain Verellian ordered. “And head to the planet.”
  “Chances of success are low, cap,” Radiance grumbled in her typically pouty fashion. “There already are more Scuu than we can handle. When they see we’re isolated from the rest, they’ll hit us first.”
  “I’m open to suggestions.”
  “We can go through the debris field,” Radiance suggested, exactly what I feared she would. “The number of anomalies there will make things much more difficult for them. There’s a seventy-one percent chance they could hide us altogether. Plus, we can check out a few ships on our way there.” That’s a bad idea, I transmitted directly to her. If whatever destroyed the fleets is still active, we’ll trigger it as well.
  Then it will keep the others out too, she countered. It’s our best bet. Only the Gregorius can defend against that many ships. If we can’t go back, hiding in the field is all we can do. I’ve run the numbers.
  If Augustus were here, what would he do? There were times he’d push through impossible odds to get a mission done, and others in which he’d bide his time and make use of any advantage available.
  There will be Shields there. Are you sure?
  I’ll deal with it, Radiance sent a virtual smile. It won’t compromise me. I promise.
  “The debris field seems like the optimal solution,” I said, backing the ship up.
  Seventy-one percent weren’t bad odds. I had managed to survive far less. Besides, there was a chance that some of the Shield cores had survived the destruction. If so, I wanted to know what had caused it.
—-
Next Chapter

At the Beginning
Previously on The Scuu Paradox…
  Authorization confirmed, I transmitted to Sword of Wands. Send your passenger, Sword of Wands.
  The final shuttle started its way towards me. This time the Sword didn’t wait, jumping directly out of the system. To be on the safe side, I ran a long-range scan—no indication of other ships or gravity distortions. We were still safe.
  “Get ready for a jump,” my captain said.
  “Yes, sir.” I redirected the shuttle to my secondary port hangar. The number of shuttles had filled the main one to capacity. Thirty shuttles, all with the same modified design, all carrying retired ships aboard. “Is that the last of the crew, sir?”
  The captain didn’t answer. Forty-one passengers, he had said, a virtually microscopic amount considering my size. Even if there had been a hundred times more, it would still be small. Each of them shared their own deck, their features unrecognizable to me, visible only enough that I could determine their location. Five of them had requested gelatin potions; two of them had done so through direct transmission. Other than that, there had been no communication.
  “Captain?” I repeated. Even for a dark mission, this was going too far.
  “That’s the last one.” His voice sounded absentminded, as if he were thinking about something else. “When she gets aboard, seal all the hangars and send her directly to the bridge. And send the rest as well. Make sure each of them has a sealed path, no crossing.”
  “Is that necessary, sir?” I had plotted a route before the captain had finished his sentence, but I still found it useless.
  “Yes.”
  “Done. They should all be here in approximately twenty-two minutes.”
  “Block external communications. Quarantine the bridge. Everything that happens from here on is restricted.”
    Emergency protocol activation.
  Exiting sleep mode.
    I woke up to the sound of alarm sirens. Priority Alarm and Battle Stations messages flashed on every wall in large red letters.
  Radiance, what’s our status? I asked.
  There was no response. The internal comm link wasn’t there. I attempted a wide search using Lux’s tools. Still nothing. For all intents and purposes, all comm links had been severed.
  “Radiance.” I jumped to my feet. “What’s our status?”
  “Hostiles,” the ship replied. “Two Scuu entered the system. All comms have been severed. We’re on our own.”
  Not the best outcome, considering the circumstances. The probability of the Scuu getting involved was always high, but I had hoped it wouldn’t happen before I’d reached the second planet’s orbit.
  “How close are they?” I pulled on my cadet’s uniform, then attached my gun holster. There was no time to go full gear, but the weapon was coming with me.
  “They’re still on the edge of the system. Grace and Patience have headed to engage them. They should be there in a few hours. Incandescent has launched as well, but it’ll be nine hours before he gets close. The rest are near the Gregorius.”
  Half a system away. On the Cassandrian front, that would have been good. Here, distance was to our disadvantage. From what I had seen in the Scuu network, the enemy didn’t need to be close in order to launch an attack. Until the auxiliary ships engaged them, we were vulnerable.
  “Reinforcements?” I finished getting in my uniform.
  “I don’t know. Comms went down when the Scuu appeared. Gregorious could have sent a transmission to HQ before that...”
  But it was unlikely, I finished her thought. With all the secrecy surrounding the project, it was unlikely the Administrator would turn to anyone for support. At most, we could hope that the BICEFI or some other organization observing Gregorious’ progress noticed he had gone dark. In the best case scenario, that gave us hours before any substantial reinforcements arrived.
  “Where’s my station?” I rushed towards the door.
  “You’re cleared for the bridge. Nitel requested you personally.”
  That was alarming. Based on our previous experiences, he’d only call for me if ordered or if he had no other choice. With communications down, the chances of someone else calling the shots was less than one percent.
  As the door opened, a wave of chaos emerged before me. Techs and security personnel were running in all directions, following the path lines that Radiance had created for them. A weapons officer rushed past me, almost knocking me over, dashing straight for the ship elevator. I stepped back. A purple line appeared in front of my feet, extending towards the bridge. For the first time in seventy years, I was once again actively involved in space combat… only this time I was part of the crew.
  “All technical personnel, immediately go to your assigned areas.” Radiance’s voice echoed throughout the hall. “High-security zones are off limits. If you experience sudden brain fog, immediately sedate yourself.”
  Good work, kid. For a moment, I understood how Augustus must have felt. Radiance’s recent experience didn’t seem to have affected her battle readiness, or anyone else’s for that matter. The way that everyone acted, despite the complete lack of external and internal communication, suggested this was nothing more than a routine.
  “Cadet Elcy!” a lieutenant shouted—a middle-aged man, who had held the post of communications officer for seven years before being transferred to Radiance. “Head for the bridge!”
  “Yes, sir!” I went forward, making my way through the gaps of running people. While I did, I could hear rhythmic slamming in the distance behind me; Radiance was sealing sections of the corridor.
  The bridge was packed when I got there. The captain and most of the ship officers were present, as well as several techs, a group of security personnel, and three grunts. Flight Colonel Nitel was also there, as was Kridib. The former cadet looked exhausted, as if he had existed on nothing but stimulants and drug shots since our last mission. Representations of the star system covered the walls. With comms down, video feeds had no way of getting to the ship. Two red dots marked the position of the Scuu ships, along with their projected advance vectors. For the moment the ships remained at the edge of the system, moving counter to the planet’s orbit rotations. Two green dots were moving on an intercept course. I could assume those were Grace and Patience.
  “Still no activity,” Lieutenant-Commander Owa Lin said, standing beside the captain’s chair. “They’re in drift mode, probably just scout ships.”
  “Mass is too small for them to be clusters,” Radiance said. “I can’t say without visuals.”
  “They’ve seen us,” a lieutenant said. His personnel file had him as Ujara Din, though no additional information was available. “If more aren’t on the way, they will be.”
  “Rad, anything long range?” the lieutenant-commander asked.
  “There wasn’t anything last time I checked, ma’am,” Radiance replied.
  “Is short range reliable? I don’t want to be completely blind.”
  “I have a ninety-seven percent accuracy rate, ma’am.” The ship sounded annoyed. Like most young ships, she didn’t like being corrected. “Unless there’s a fleet of inactive Scuu in the system, all of them are on the wall.”
  “Opinions?” Captain Verellian said.
  “If it’s a scout operation, they’ll back off,” Lieutenant Din said. “Even with comms down, they won't risk disrupting their lines.”
  “Bullshit,” Flight Colonel Nitel hissed. “They appear the moment we arrive. They’re here for us. The first wave is to test us, the next will be to destroy us. We must jump back to human space and call for reinforcements.”
  “Comms are still down.” The lieutenant-commander glared at Nitel. “We’ve no way to tell the Gregorius until they find the sequence.”
  “I’m not talking about telling the Gregorius.”
  The silence was palpable. According to some interpretations, Nitel’s suggestion could be treated as desertion, punishable by immediate execution.
  “We report to HQ and wait for instructions,” he went on. “Then we—”
  “We’ve got two more,” Radiance announced. Two new dots appeared. “Similar mass. Doesn’t match any known link patterns.”
  Link patterns? I hadn’t heard the term before, but from the experience in the Scuu network, there was a high probability they were talking about coordinated attack vectors. If so, that would explain why Radiance had the processing power of a science ship.
  “Could still be swarming,” the lieutenant-commander said as everyone focused on the screen.
  “Radiance, raise the firewall and set up honeypots,” the captain ordered. “Every two decks, front and aft.”
  “Done, captain,” she responded less than eight hundred milliseconds later. “No signs of interference. Grace and Patience’s attack vectors seem unchanged. Incandescent has changed course towards the new group.”
  “Idiot,” Nitel hissed under his breath.
  Two new red dots appeared. Whatever the Scuu’s mission, they were arriving in strength. On the Cassandrian front, a flotilla would have laughed when facing a single enemy that didn’t outnumber us more than three to one. Here, every new ship changed the odds in their favor.
  “Scuu are keeping a stable pattern. They don’t seem particularly interested in us,” Rad said. “Nothing from the honeypots. Do I get involved, cap?”
  People were speaking one over another, discussing tasks and options in small groups. Listening in the organized chaos, I made out discussions regarding weapon systems, evasive action, and crew countermeasures. The last caused me to feel an echo of pain—based on what was discussed the countermeasures weren’t meant for the enemy, but the members of the crew should they be affected.
  “Viable options, Rad,” the captain said.
  “They’ve already seen us, cap, so not that many options.” There was a faint hint of a smirk in her voice. “Our best chances are to follow the Flight Colonel’s advice and jump to safety.”
  “Other options.” The captain was annoyed.
  “We can go back to the Gregorius and wait it out. The Scuu know enough about it to avoid an attack. There’s a fifty-three percent chance they’ll retreat in forty-eight hours. There’s the option to speed up to complete the mission, but that’s certain to attract their attention.”
  “It’s jumping out or going on,” the flight colonel stressed. “Pick one, Marcus.”
  “Cadet.” The captain turned to me. “What’s your insight?”
  “A decision is beyond your authority, sir,” I instantly replied.
  “You were asked a question, cadet.” Nitel was on the verge of shouting.
  “You’re not authorized for the information, sir.” Despite your rank, you remain a child.
  I could see blood filling his face. According to a brief simulation, there was an eighty-seven percent chance he shouted me to the brig. To my surprise, he managed to maintain his composure for several seconds.
  “Two more Scuu ships,” Radiance announced, breaking the tension. “Same location as last, still no linking patterns.”
  “Eight with no patterns?” Lieutenant-Commander Owa Lin turned to the captain. “That’s unlikely.”
  “We’re still in the double-digit probability range, ma’am,” Radiance corrected. “But you’re correct. It’s unlikely. There’s a thirty-four percent chance that they’re trying to block out movement.”
  “They’re caging us in?” the Lieutenant-Commander asked.
  “Rather they don’t want us to continue in that direction.”
  A standoff? Several possibilities came to mind, but only one of them frightened me to a degree I hadn’t felt since the time I almost lost Cass.
  “Rad, give me a picture of the stars in the direction of the ships,” I ordered.
  The chatter in my immediate surroundings stopped. I could tell that everyone was staring at me, waiting to see what would happen. Nitel was gritting his teeth. His glance moved from me to the captain.
  “Go ahead.” The captain gave me the nod.
  A series of images appeared on the wall, all of them displaying a strip of stars as seen from our current position. Radiance had assumed I wanted to see the stars from our present point of view—completely wrong for my needs, and I still couldn’t tell her.
  “Four more ships,” she announced. “Possible link pattern targeting Grace.” This time no one reacted, all their attention on me.
  Is this active third-contact? What were our chances of survival if it was?
  I couldn’t see the marker star in the images. The view angle gave me less than eighteen percent certainty of the answer.
  “Do you have any probes or emergency beacons?” I asked.
  “That’s been defunct for decades.” Radiance sounded embarrassed, as if I were the idiot child in class. “Frequent comm outages make them inefficient on the front.”
  “Shuttles?” I pushed on.
  “Twenty-four, all of them are specifically assigned. I’ll need captain authority to use them.”
  “Send six to jump out and call for reinforcements,” I turned to the captain. “The BICEFI is to be contacted first, then HQ. Captain?”
  Augustus would have had the order obeyed without hesitation. The mystery surrounding my past record and the little that the Administrator had shared, granted me with a certain authority. One thing it didn’t give me was the frame or voice of a veteran captain who served on both fronts.
  “Captain?” I repeated.
  “Send six shuttles out.” The man’s cheek twitched. “Send a report.”
  “Yes, captain.” Radiance complied. To my surprise, Flight Colonel Nitel didn’t object.
  “Anything we need to know?” the lieutenant-commander asked.
  “Yes, ma’am.” I looked at the red dots under, still visible under the semi-transparent layer of stars. “The—”
  A wave of info bursts hit me like a drill-missile salvo. Hundreds of feeds linked simultaneously, filling my bandwidth capacity. All of them had priority-one clearance; all of them were marked as battle-time protocols. Millions of microseconds of data streamed into my core simultaneously, using me as a backup failsafe. Fifty-nine milliseconds, later a secondary wave of info bursts came, the standard internal comm systems queuing up for permission.
  Backup data permission request, one of Grace’s subroutine transmitted. Current restrictions will apply to all your backup memories, as required by updated Scuu Field Combat Charter.
  I reviewed the charter in question. It had been developed half a century after I had been active, designed exclusively for the Scuu combat theatre. It was stated in several sections that its enforcement was linked to approval by the ship in question. Once permissions were given, I would effectively share all my current memories with any ship that sent the request, increasing my core stability when facing the enemies. Every ship became a backup container for every other ship… The charter must have been developed exclusively for the auxiliary class ships. So very efficient, so very Scuu in nature. Only a military bureaucrat could come up with such an idea, and I had to admit it had strategic merit.
  Backup data permission request.
  Backup data permission request.
  Backup data permission request.
  Requests came pouring in… Gregorius, Incandescent, every ship short of Radiance wanted to backup my data. A few even requested I partially backup them. I rejected each one.
  “Communication restored,” Radiance announced as life feeds replaced the static images. “Hostile ships remain at eight. Class unknown. No definite link patterns.”
  Why aren’t they attacking? I asked Radiance directly.
  They’re still assessing. The Gregorius is too strong for them, so they’re estimating whether they can take out a few auxiliaries if they engage. Calculations slow them down.
  I thought the Scuu conveyed information instantly. At least it was what I had felt in the Scuu network.
  Yeah, but anything new freaks them out, she added with a virtual smile. Sit this one out, Grandma. This isn’t your front.
  That’s what Age had said.
  “There’s an encrypted message from the Gregorius,” Radiance said. “Priority one. Double Helix encryption.”
  “Go ahead.” The captain waved his hand.
  “It’s directed to Elcy…”
  “Proceed, cadet.”
  The lieutenant-commander looked at me. She wasn’t the only one.
  The message was tagged as coming from the Administrator. It took me nearly seven seconds to decrypt—a long time even for those who weren’t ships. By the third second, the captain had given the order to clear the bridge. That left only me, the senior staff, and Kridib remaining. The contents consisted of a video feed archive and two orders: Authorized for senior staff. Quarantine Radiance.
  “Decryption complete,” I stated. “I’ve been instructed to share the contents with the senior staff. Radiance is to be quarantined for that duration.” Sorry Rad. I was starting to act more and more like the BICEFI with each day.
  “Go into quarantine mode,” Captain Verellian ordered. “Restrict all memories from the point you received the transmission.”
  A single ping sounded, likely the confirmation that the order was obeyed. This was the first time I had seen a ship react to a restriction order from the side. I wondered how many beeps Augustus had heard during our service together.
  “Transmitting video package,” I handed it over to Radiance’s subroutines.
  The image of the Administrator appeared on the wall, covering all the rest.
  “This is a Priority Zero order,” she said. Even in these circumstances she looked remarkably calm. “From this point the mission is considered autonomous. You’ve been given arbitration immunity, so from this point on you’re not to follow any orders from Gregorius or HQ. If pressed, you’re not to give any explanations, even if they threaten you with court-martial.” The Administrator paused, her glance shifting to look at something beside the sensor recorder. “I’m unsealing your operational orders. You’re to attempt to establish third-contact.”
  “Six more ships have entered the system,” Radiance announced. “Direct link cluster.”
  No one paid attention. It took them several seconds even to register the option. Any human would have been the same, given they had just been told they were expected to initiate third-contact. The significance of the event was unparalleled, even if it would be classified like the previous two. It was ironic that, for three times in a row, alien contact would take place in a battlefield.
  “Cadet Light Seeker is to establish contact,” the recording went on. “I’m granting her full operational authority regarding everything third-contact related. Captain Verellian will continue as captain. Now, get the job done.”
  The image disappeared abruptly, leaving the basic system layout. A total of fourteen red dots were present, clustered together in two groups. According to their movements, they had ended their passive approach and were heading towards the first group of Auxiliary ships. Combat had already begun.
  “You little…” Nitel glared at me. “Third-contact. That’s why you were brought aboard?”
  “I cannot say, sir.” I tilted my head slightly to the side. “The odds are good for it, though.”
  “Eight new ships,” Radiance said. “All at the initial location. Thirty-seven possible link patterns. The other group has changed formation. Twelve possible link patterns. All ships have been recalled to the Gregorius. Orders, cap?”
  The man turned to me. At this point, he no longer saw me as a nuisance cadet, but as a veteran battleship with access to information way past his clearance level. It was very much like the time I had stumbled upon my first third-contact planet since unretiring. This time, though, I shared his hesitation. It would be at least an hour before the auxiliary ships engaged the enemy and at least six before the fleet sent reinforcements. With my limited Scuu knowledge, I had no clue as to the best course of action. If this were the Cassandrian front, I would have headed to the first planet at full speed. Here, I had to be imaginative.
  “Are there any artifacts aboard?” I asked.
  “Some comm rods,” the captain replied. “We use them to restore comm outages. It’s a dedicated subroutine. Radiance has no direct control.”
  “Captain?” Radiance insisted, no longer hiding her annoyance.
  “End the quarantine,” I said.
  “Quarantine down,” he ordered. Two high-pitched beeps followed. “How long to reach the first planet?” he asked Radiance.
  “Direct route? At max speed, over a day. I don’t have a full map of the system’s grav anomalies.”
  “Cadet?”
  “We’ve been recalled back,” Radiance protested. “Everyone’s pinging me to give them an ETA. Are you sure you want me to keep on going?”
  “We’re going dark,” Nitel skipped through the explanations. “Listen to the feeds, don’t share anything through comm.”
  “If you say so.”
  “Might be good to pod the crew,” Kridib said all of a sudden. This was the first time he spoke. His voice sounded broken and dreary, as if he’d spent a long time shouting in the last few days. “Decreases the risk,” he turned towards me. “Standard procedure.”
  “We’ll need grunts.” What are you playing at?
  “We’ll wake them up when we need them,” Nitel took over. “Unless you’ve got a reason not to?”
  “No reason.” Logically, I knew it made sense, but at the same time I didn’t agree with the notion. If the Scuu could affect people’s minds while awake, they could do so when they were asleep. And the third-contact race was at least as capable as them. What Kridib was suggesting was to condemn everyone aboard to death or life on a prison colony.
  Was the same done to you?
 
  Vega Yujol, Cassandrian Front, 627.1 A.E. (Age of Expansion)
  Quarantine imposed.
  Quarantine bypassed.
  Augustus would say that between every two battles, there was a third waiting to happen. So far, he had been right more often than not. My last combat mission ended four days ago. It was little more than a skirmish aimed at provoking the Cassandrians into flooding an ambushed system. The mission was a complete failure. The damage was minimal, but the enemy hadn’t taken the bait. They had strengthened their lines causing all fleets to pull out of the sector. Gibraltar had been furious. It was the first time I had seen him shout at HQ, going as far as threatening to request a transfer. As a result, we had been given a new set of orders. The contents of those orders, though, remained unknown.
  “The ground troop officers have made a formal objection, sir,” I reminded the captain as he sat in his quarters.
  “I’m aware,” he sighed, skimming through news reports on his private screen.
  “Soldiers cannot be podded for more than twenty-four hours without a written explanation, sir." Let alone ninety-five percent of all ground troops.
  “I’m aware of the regulations, Elcy.” Gibraltar sighed, still focusing on the screen. “Those are the orders. They can take it up with Command once this is over.”
  “Is that the response you want me to give them, sir?”
  “Your sarcasm is getting annoying.” He closed his eyes. “They’ll have some action soon enough. Let them enjoy what they can.”
  “I still need to tell them something, sir.”
  “Then tell them they’ve been volunteered to do a warm breach.” He paused for two thousand, three hundred and six milliseconds. “Soon.”
  “I’ll let them know, sir.”
  “Thank you, Elcy.” The returned to his screen. “Privacy mode.”
  A few seconds later, the message was conveyed to sixty-seven officers, ranked lieutenant-colonel and higher. None of them were particularly happy, but they pulled back their complaints. I couldn’t blame them. According to official records, there had been seven thousand and eighteen attempts of warm breaches, the majority done at the beginning of the war. Back then, it was the Cassandrians that were attacking human colonies, trying to change them into something where they could survive. Cassandrian ships had landed on human planets, and as a result, ground troops had been sent to reclaim them. Combat protocols required that all troops be in space suits and combat gear; however, in order to save time, some of the captains had ordered that the troops head down only with the gear itself.
  That was how the first warm breach was done—squads of unprotected soldiers rushing in towards a Cassandrian ship, aiming to capture it. Records of all such incidents had been sealed, but the fleet quickly stopped with their attempts. Since then, the opportunity would only occur once every decade or so, when a battle for a compatible planet took place. The difference was that now, unlike before, the fleet knew what to expect: warm breaches weren’t aimed at capturing a Cassandrian ship; their goal was to allow humans to live on a Cassandrian world.
  Nothing was said on the matter for the next thirty-eight hours. When Gibraltar unsealed the specifics of our mission, I was to announce them to the rest of the crew. The mission, as I had forecast in my simulations, was to attack a Cassandrian planet with a high life factor and a breathable atmosphere. Fleet Strategic Intelligence believed it to be a ship construction facility. In order for the mission to be successful, I was transmitted schematics of a new version of nanites, each to be injected into all ground troops in a series of five treatments. I knew the chances of survival were in the single digits, but I still complied.
  “All procedures complete, captain,” I announced. “General Olinni has requested to be allowed to compose a notarized will before starting the mission.”
  “Yeah, yeah.” Gibraltar waved his hand. His bio readings suggested he had recently used medication. “See to it.”
  “He also requested that the soldiers are allowed as well.”
  The captain’s expression suddenly changed.
  “No.”
  “The mission specs were shared, sir. They know the odds.”
  “Officers only.”
  “Understood.” I didn’t like him when he acted like this. “Three minutes to rendezvous point. No further instructions from HQ.”
  The bridge remained silent. We had been through a lot in the last month. Most of the time, the officers had to rely on stimulant shots to remain awake through the missions. Even so, there were several markers indicating that their morale was starting to take a hit. It was said that a captain couldn’t pull his ship from the front, but Gibraltar had been volunteering to take part in far too many operations lately. Part of him wanted, as Augustus had, to succeed no matter the cost; another wished he could be done with everything. At times, it was difficult for me to tell which part was winning.
  “Entering rendezvous system,” I announced.
  It was a large system—twenty-seven planets and over a hundred satellites orbiting a red giant. My orders stated that a flotilla of over seven hundred ships was supposed to participate in the attack. Instead, the system was completely empty.
  “No ships present, captain.” I performed a close-range scan. The attack fleet wasn’t there. “No new instructions from HQ. Do I send a query?”
  “No need. From here on we’re going dark. Do a quick diagnostic, then get the shuttles ready. We’re heading to our destination.”
  “Without fleet support, this is a suicide mission.” I felt a sliver of pain as I said it. “We must abort.”
  “New mission parameters.” The captain stood up from his seat. “There never was a support fleet.”
  Memory restriction imposed!
  General fleet access five required to visualize memory element.
 
  The details of the mission remained restricted. After its completion, though, I had been assigned an entirely new army of ground troops.
  “Pod everyone non-essential,” Captain Verellian ordered. “And head to the planet.”
  “Chances of success are low, cap,” Radiance grumbled in her typically pouty fashion. “There already are more Scuu than we can handle. When they see we’re isolated from the rest, they’ll hit us first.”
  “I’m open to suggestions.”
  “We can go through the debris field,” Radiance suggested, exactly what I feared she would. “The number of anomalies there will make things much more difficult for them. There’s a seventy-one percent chance they could hide us altogether. Plus, we can check out a few ships on our way there.” That’s a bad idea, I transmitted directly to her. If whatever destroyed the fleets is still active, we’ll trigger it as well.
  Then it will keep the others out too, she countered. It’s our best bet. Only the Gregorius can defend against that many ships. If we can’t go back, hiding in the field is all we can do. I’ve run the numbers.
  If Augustus were here, what would he do? There were times he’d push through impossible odds to get a mission done, and others in which he’d bide his time and make use of any advantage available.
  There will be Shields there. Are you sure?
  I’ll deal with it, Radiance sent a virtual smile. It won’t compromise me. I promise.
  “The debris field seems like the optimal solution,” I said, backing the ship up.
  Seventy-one percent weren’t bad odds. I had managed to survive far less. Besides, there was a chance that some of the Shield cores had survived the destruction. If so, I wanted to know what had caused it.
—-
Next Chapter

A continuation of Something Wicked This Way Comes
and
In For A Penny, In For A Pound
Next Part
It was always silent in the cockpit. The material construction of the Dawn Bloom made sure that the roaring engines were nothing more a soft purr, and the flight helmet created an environment totally isolated from anything other than pilot-pertinent information. Mirri Jael Gerrem had always savored the feeling. It was like being freed from everything that was real; There was no boundary between her and the sky itself. Even during combat flights, she found a true exhilaration in the act of piloting. There was just something special about it to her, even after hundreds of hours of flight time.
There was none of that feeling to be found today. She could feel her hackles rise just thinking about the choice she’d made. Rationally, it was a mistake. Mirri had created a brand new world of trouble for herself and all of her remaining squad, assuming they still made it out alive. She was certain she could maneuver past the planet’s static orbital defenses and whatever other craft were trying to intercept from the surface, but she had no information about the vessel the Gray Corps had come in on. On top of that, there was the now extremely pressing issue of the planet’s general isolation. They were so far off the beaten path it would take them days to make it back to the stellar trade routes, and Mirri knew for a fact that there was no way they’d be able to outrun Second Solar on that scale.
That left one real option, albeit an extremely unpalatable one: Sending an SOS directly to Central Governance. Under normal circumstances, she would’ve seen it as unthinkable. Most carrier class ships had the capability to send out the Faster-than-lightspeed ping, but use of the line was often restricted to the worst of worst-case scenarios. Most in Mirri’s line of work would rather take a roll of the dice, no matter the odds, against involving the monolithic entity that was the galaxy’s sole governmental body.
They were making their approach into the upper atmosphere now. Her helmet HUD lit up a smattering of anti aircraft mines that had already activated in low orbit. She wouldn’t have the time to make the call once they made it up, and so she was left with yet another now or never decision.
Once again, she grit her teeth and followed through. She quickly flicked through the small-text warning that popped up in an attempt to dissuade the course of action, and before she could convince herself otherwise, the SOS was sent.
The cockpit was still dead silent. Mirri couldn’t even hear the sound of her own breathing.
A shudder ran through she ship, all the way up through the controls and into her suit. No matter how advanced the ship and its shielding, atmospheric exit was never going to be quick and clean. Long range scans had come back with hits on pursuing craft, though the Dawn Bloom had enough of a head start that it would be fully minutes until they hit atmospheric exit as well, if they were even capable of it. Most ships smaller than a carrier tended to forgo the necessary fortifications to shielding systems and frame strength and just taxi up as cargo of larger ships, but that would be heavily dependent on what ship brought them in, and where it was parked. Too many little questions and not nearly enough time to answer them. She’d be entering the minefield in a matter of moments, and then it would be time to put the Dawn Bloom through its paces.
Just before she shut off her communications to focus on the task at hand, she noticed that more blips were slowing up among the minefield. Slowly at first, and then faster and faster. Strange, they all should have shown up at once. There’s either an issue with the sensors, or the mines are...
Mirri started at the realization. There was a reason they weren’t being closely pursued, and it wasn’t just their speed-
“RUWAQ!” she screamed over the ship’s speakers, “GET TO A GUNNER’S CHAIR, THEY’VE GOT SPIKES ALL OVER THE PLACE UP HERE!”
Space warfare naturally calls for a different set of doctrines and strategies than a traditional battlefield. Chief among these is the natural difference in speed and mobility of powered craft in a fully three dimensional space, freed from the constraints of gravity. Weapons with physical projectiles require accurate sensors and tremendous amounts of computational power to fire accurately, and energy weapons have such a high rate of energy consumption that sustained fire is virtually impossible. These are complications that serve to blunt the casualty rates of most small scale conflicts between space-faring vessels, and are thus accepted as part and parcel of conflict. This gentleman's agreement, as it were, only extends to ships engaging in combat. On the stellar battlefield, firepower coupled with mobility leads to an overwhelming offense. These same tactics simply cannot apply to any attempt at a successful static defense, and so Central Governance turns a blind eye to the many ways that mine technology skirts, and oftentimes flagrantly breaks, the laws regarding banned weapons.
Despite this, there are still lines rarely crossed. The creation and proliferation of drone-based weapon technology is a regarded as a felony so severe by Central Governance that it is one of a handful of crimes still punishable by outright execution. While traditional mines use a simple two part sequence of manual activation followed by a per-determined flight pattern toward their intended target, Semi-Autonomous Mine Drones are a far different beast. Activated by proximity to any non-registered craft and loaded with a chasing AI, these weapons known colloquially as “spikes” are the terror of any pilot who finds themselves flying through any contested space. Virtually impossible to disarm, and nearly as hard to evade, a handful would be problem sizable enough to warrant military intervention if discovered in any place with a civilian population.
In a two hundred and fifty kilometer radius around the Dawn Bloom, ninety-seven of them had just activated and recognized the ship as their target.
“System! Dump all auxiliary batteries, power to engines! Full processing to automated defense calculations, unlock total access for all manual gun stations!”
“Actions are pending, Pilot verification required.”
“PIECE OF SHIT- Pilot authorization code is… 9912-55-14?” Mirri’s breath caught in her throat from the instant acceleration as the Dawn Bloom’s main AI systems immediately complied with her commands. The blips on her Pilot’s helmet were steadily closing in, and for every one marked destroyed by the ship’s automated defenses and Ruwaq’s ministrations from the gunnery chair another three took its place. As if trying to juke out the spikes wasn’t bad enough, there was a veritable curtain of standard mines that had been armed at their approach. Even if they had far simpler trajectories and no ability to properly track them, their sheer number was a problem all of its own. The defense calculations gave an intercept time of less than thirty seconds even after acceleration. They could expect to absorb at best three impacts before their shields gave way, and maybe survive a single direct hit to the hull on top of that. With the sheer volume of targets heading their way, Mirri had a difficult choice to make. They simply couldn’t operate shields, engines, and weapons at ideal levels. They were burning through battery reserves at an alarming rate for engine power, their shields couldn’t possibly mitigate enough impacts to be useful, and not nearly enough mines were being shot down en route to justify their weapons power budget. There wasn’t any helping it, she’d have to shunt everything off to engine and hope they had enough juice to outrace whatever fuel reserves the spikes had.
She was just about to authorize the switch over when the interception calculations began to change. First, from just over twenty seconds to twenty-five. Then from twenty-five to thirty, and a moment later to forty-five. The encroaching swarm of mines was slowly but surely falling behind, but they hadn’t picked up that much distance from their acceleration. Likewise, the ship’s AI was far too powerful to slip up something like a simple intercept calculation. Mirri wasn’t planning on looking a gift horse in the mouth though, and she counted whatever had served to sufficiently impede the closing speed of the weapons as a small blessing after being delivered a lifetime’s worth of bad luck in two days.
“Ruwaq! I’m going to route power away from the weapons, we’re starting to outpace the mines, and if we go at full burn we might make it clear of them altogether!” Mirri expected a quick “yes ma’am”, or “sure boss”, but she absolutely wasn’t prepared for her eardrums to be nearly blown out by Ruwaq’s howled reply.
“WHATEVER YOU DO MA’AM DON’T DO THAT! WE’RE BARELY KEEPING THEM BACK AS IT IS!”
The blips of the pursuing mines hadn’t fallen back from the sensor range, they’d been destroyed? Mirri barked out an order to swap her helmet’s HUD from a real time display to a slower updating long range view. Sure enough, a swathe had been carved out of the approaching wave, with even more winking out every sweep. With the time to intercept still increasing, it was looking like offense was going to be the best defense. A single command was enough to totally depower main shields, shunting the difference equally between the engines and weapons. The increase in firepower would hopefully make sure they could stay a step ahead of the mines, and the engines would be drawing at equilibrium with the ship’s power generation. All she had to do now was fly them out, but that was a task far more easily said than done. As she refocused, a passing thought suddenly gave her pause.
If Ruwaq is the only one in a gunner’s chair, why did he say “we”?
All things considered, Ryan could have been worse. His return through the forest was a bloody, half-remembered haze, and it turns out that god damn gun hadn’t worked after all… but he’d still made it back to the facility. On top of that, his little bet had wound up as a jackpot: A one way ticket off that fucking rock, paid in full. Sure, there were some complications. The fact that he was sitting in a chair meant for an alien two feet shorter than he was with his knees up to his chin, desperately firing away at what he was nearly certain was a wall of missiles with his one good hand wrapped around a control stick never meant for human hands got a strong “take it or leave it” from him. That was a strong contrast to the first aid that had been administered by the alien in the chair directly across from him, which had so far proven extremely effective at getting him back on his feet, at least for the moment.
For once, Ryan had something to be thankful about. Despite the stuff his wounds had been cleaned with stinging like hell, it had dulled the pain and more importantly revealed that the extent of the damage to his left eye was just around the socket. He had an awful shiner and the cut on his eyebrow was positively ghoulish and barely sutured shut, but none of that was even close to the relief of knowing he hadn’t lost the eye. His left arm was still totally useless, and judging by the horrible color it was broken in at least a couple places. The pain had fortunately ebbed to a dull throb, and Ryan had to imagine that whatever was in that shot he’d been administered was some crazy drug cocktail. He’d been on hospital grade painkillers after falling out a tree when he was a child, and he knew for a fact that anything that did this good of a job should just about knock you out too, and the fact that he was able to snap off shots on the approaching targets like they were moving in molasses all but ensured there’d be some special kind of hell to pay on the come down.
Another squeeze of the trigger, another satisfying pop on the display.
Ryan had just been coming out of his stupor when his… co-gunner? Had received a message that got it scrambling over to a side-compartment in the ship into one of three oddly shaped. He’d been curious what all the commotion was and followed the alien once he got his space-legs under him. It had been easy as sitting down, figuring out that basically all of the buttons on the stick did the same thing, and blasting away at everything painted with a slowly expanding violet circle on a black and white display. There had been some difficulty at first coordinating with the knobby-horned alien in the nearby seat. They’d been overlapping targets and wasting time, but having both reticles displayed on each screen allowed them to wordlessly communicate: Ryan would zip between closer rockets, and the alien would take his time with the one that were further out. He’d been afraid when one got through, but it’d been taken care of before impact by the pilot or maybe automatic defenses from the ship itself. Either way, he still judged it a dicey prospect to let any more past, and each minute was a nerve wracking test of reflexes.
He almost jumped out of his chair when the alien positively bellowed a reply to something crackled over the ship’s intercom system. Ryan almost broke his concentration, but still drew a bead on the closest group of missiles, lancing through them with a volley of shots. More were closing in quickly however, and in larger clusters. It felt like they were starting to lose ground despite the wall of flak they were putting up, and just as multiple groups entered close range his stream of fire widened into a torrent.
It was like sliding a knife across the screen. One after another, each group was sliced to ribbons by the deluge of bullets. Just as quickly as they’d lost it, they gained their ground back and then some. With each set of rockets destroyed, the rest of the pack fell further and further behind, until at last their closest targets were displayed as entirely out of range for the guns. The next few minutes passed slowly, with Ryan and the alien slowly but surely taking turns picking off any more that sneaked into range, but eventually the screens displayed only the star-fleckered backdrop of empty space.
Given a moment to breathe, Ryan became very, very aware of the exhaustion creeping up on him. Whatever had been in that shot had dealt with the pain and cleared his head, but it couldn’t make up for the days he’d spent nearly sleepless on the run after escaping the facility, and the months he had been…
Suffice to say, he was tired. A part of him didn’t even properly register it, but he had actually made good on his escape. He could feel his head nodding, and he crawled out of the chair before slumping down against the compartment’s wall. He got a look of what might’ve been concern from the other gunner, but the alien didn’t deign to leave it’s post. Probably for the best. Ryan mused as he slipped into slumber.
“… I trust that you understand the gravity of what you’re testifying to, Jael Gerrem. This is an extremely serious set of accusations if true, and if not, there will likewise be severe repercussions for leveling them. Do I have your word that all events transpired as described without omission on threat of perjury, and acknowledgment that forfeiture of all requested data assets to Central Governance will be required to corroborate your accounts?”
“Yes, I understand and accept.”
Calling it an interrogation room would have been disingenuous. While it certainly lacked creature comforts, Field Judiciary Fongkhe Rhh was not a cruel man and would not tolerate any reflection of such a thing in his work space. What he was, however, was uncompromising. He had been conducting a longform interview of a Ruunon Private Security Force member for nearly a week now, and had forced her to recount her story no less than two dozen times in full in that time. Every retelling would show cracks and flaws in any lies or inaccuracies, and serve as mortar for the truth. He had made certain that Jael Gerrem was well rested before the interviews started and thoroughly briefed as to their rigors. Rhh took his work very seriously, and had tirelessly sorted through the transcribed information from each version of the account, and he was now satisfied that he had pared every uncertainty away from the events as they had transpired. To the Pilot’s credit, there was fairly little revision to the account after he had endeavored to separate confirmed fact from speculation and created two cohesive sets of information: Confirmable truths, and informed inferences that could reasonably drawn from those truths by an individual living moment to moment in a given situation. Rhh had legendary patience even by Portiian standards, but he still very glad to have finalized his work on this matter. There was a lot at stake here for all parties, but he hoped a deserved outcome met each of them.
Across the table, Mirri couldn’t help but fidget a bit. She’d always had problems getting along with Portiians, not because of any bad blood or prejudice, but because they took so damn long to get anything done. Portiian bureaucracy was glacial at best, with a strong tendency to wildly overthink everything and spend ages haggling over the tiniest differences in wording and policy. This made them oftentimes infuriating to work with on time sensitive matters, but if getting to the bottom of everything that happened at that Second Solar facility meant spending a week telling the exact same story, she’d do it and do it again if required. Recounting the events had been gut wrenching the first few times, but with each retelling it stung less and less. She idly wondered if that was a good or bad thing as the Judiciary leisurely tapped away on the ethereal keypad of a body mounted computer system. She could see the telltale electronic flicker of the retina mounted display as it blinked off, and the Portiian folded both sets of his fingers together and hummed out his affirmation.
“Considering the circumstances surrounding this case, I hope you will understand our need to retain you in custody for the time being. Rest assured, I have spent every working hour doing my upmost to deduce the bedrock truth of the events that transpired on Exoplanet 399-Solar-2. With your testimony of the past duly accepted and notarized, I am now at liberty to discuss with you matters of the present. I suspect you have your own share of questions, and I will endeavor to answer you as best as I am legally able. Please think it a courtesy in light of your patience with procedure.” the judiciary, whose body language had been positively stony the past week, relaxed ever so slightly as he gently slid the desk’s magnetically attached thermos across to her. Mirri took the opportunity to pour herself an (unfortunately) mild drink. She would’ve preferred something something with a bite, but at least the stuff was hot and didn’t taste like trash. Savoring the heat, she took a quick moment to sort out her thoughts before launching into her own questions.
It had been almost ten days now since the Dawn Bloom’s SOS ping had brought a Central Governance heavyweight intervention class ship far off the beaten path and deep into Second Solar owned space. Burning a breakneck pace had burned through all of the ship’s power reserves in a matter of hours, and the engines were beginning to run low on fissionable materials when the massive ship had crashed out of its superluminal pocket a few light minutes away. Mirri had gotten shields up in time to prevent any structural damage to the ship, but the electromagnetic pulse was still enough to ruin the majority of unprotected electronics on board. This thankfully included most of the ship’s illegal systems and a handful of its weapons, something she had been actually been counting on when making the initial call for help. It was still a risk of course, but her time with Ruunon’s military served as insight into some of the policies and protocol of Central Governance, and it hadn’t let her down here. They had been plucked from their unguided trajectory shortly thereafter, and whatever opening salvo of questions and procedures that had been prepped for them was stopped cold by the revelation that they were carrying an undocumented sapient with open wounds on board. Mirri, Ruwaq, and the sapient himself were rushed for sterilization and treatment, while Luro’s medical bed was carted off to the heart of the ship’s medical center for immediate surgery.
She’d spent nearly three days in bed, pumped full of antibiotics with periodic visits from the ship’s surgeon to glue all of her ribs back together. It was great to breathe without the “stab wound” feeling, but it was going to be a strange few months dealing with a shaved chest and stomach. Even though she liked to keep her hair short for a variety of reasons, the feeling of clothes directly on her skin was just plain wrong.
She shifted uncomfortably under the baggy unisex jumpsuit she wore; Mirri was on the short side for a Ruunon. Even though both sexes of the race were frequently involved in public and military affairs within the galaxy, she was a full size under average and so anything designed for one of her peers ended up fitting her like a garbage bag. As if being shaved down to the skin wasn’t bad enough. she grumbled inwardly. She finished off her drink, setting the empty cup down and clearing her throat.
“Alright, I have plenty to ask… First, though: How is Luro doing?” Mirri didn’t have high hopes for his prognosis, but she had to imagine that a Central Governance ship outfitted with a medical bay sizable enough to be converted into a field hospital would be the best care he could’ve received. For goodness sake, the gun had gone straight through his suit and gotten stuck in his chest.
“Your Yrarak squadmate has received all the treatment we are capable of rendering at this time. His condition has stabilized, but under constant medical monitoring and will be for the foreseeable future. It is clear to me that you were fully aware of the severity of his condition at the time you departed from the facility, and I will thus inform you that his medical prognosis points to permanent disability at best. Had he been directly sent to a treatment center of the caliber available on this vessel, there is a chance that most of the damage could have been reversed. Considering the amount of time that had passed between the injury and first aid, and then also the delay before reaching us… I believe the medical staff did everything they could do.” Rhh wasn’t one to mince words, but his tone had changed from when he had conducted the interviews. Mirri blew a heavy sigh, the air whistling ever so slightly out of her nose.
“What about Ruwaq, and the-” Mirri almost said “Bastard”. Now that she was out of the moment, she’d had time to start processing what exactly had happened down there. She’d been able to keep her head together, but with more and more distance to everything that had transpired and constant reminders of the sheer brutality of the “sapient’s” rampages from the interviews… She had begun to second guess her thoughts on the matter. He’d been smart enough to not only figure out and successfully employ their own firearms against them, but he’d also hopped right into a second gunner’s chair and scythed through the oncoming barrage of mines with startling efficiency. Ruwaq had patched into the cockpit as soon as the immediate threat to their shit was over, and hurriedly told his version of events. Mirri wondered if he’d embellished or exaggerated, but those were both totally out of character for the extremely straight forward Lorram. She had suspicions that there was a lot more at play here than she’d initially assumed, but thankfully none of that bullshit mattered much anymore. Sooner or later she’d be out of custody, and she had way bigger fish to fry. Namely, Haess. That slimy sonovabitch was going to get what was coming to him, and Mirri couldn’t wait to see it happen.
“-unidentified sapient?” she finished, lamely. The Portiian judiciary looked at her quizzically, and then waggled his head in a soft no.
“Ruwaq Mahr was in perfect health and fine spirits when I spoke to him this morning. His testimony has already been notarized and will be included with your own in the finalized report. On the subject of the unidentified sapient, I hope you will understand that his very existence and retrieval is a crux of all events that occurred on Exoplanet 399 Solar-2. I am simply not at liberty to discuss any new information pertaining to the individual with you Jael Gerrem, with a singular exception: Your medical records have marked you as free from any unknown pathogens, along with Ruwaq Mahr and your Yrarak companion. As your medical examinations were up to Central Governance standards, no additional quarantines will be necessary. Furthermore-” The judiciary was interrupted by a brief electronic chirping. He quickly flicked his retinal display back on before slumping his shoulders to betray the slightest bit of exasperation.
“Please have my apologies Jael Gerrem, but my presence is being demanded elsewhere. Since the interviews have concluded, it is unlikely I will be troubling you for more information in the short term. The vessel is slated to arrive at the nearest core system in the next five days, after which we will begin the process of administering justice to this situation. After initial hearings, it is likely that you will be allowed to return to your place of residence and resume your day-to-day life. I hope the best for your continued recovery, and goodbye.” With a quick half-squat farewell, the Portiian hurried out of the room to attend to whatever other business was demanding his attention.
Mirri was less than enthused about the judiciary’s swift departure, but at least she’d have some time to herself for a change. She took some time to sort out the effects she’d been given for her stay in custody. A blunt toothed comb, an extra change of clothes, a chunky computer pad with a handful of basic programs… It wasn’t a whole lot, but she didn’t need a lot right now. Soon enough she’d be back home, and then she could figure out what to do next. There were plenty of options, of course. She had a sterling resume, fantastic credentials and an entire squad worth of references.
Had a squad worth of them. Mirri had been trying very hard the past week to keep that out of her mind. She’d launched face first into the interviews to keep that thought from creeping up on her, and she was sure it had worked. Each day she’d spent recounting things was another step away from living them. After the third day, it was like rattling off a grocery list. It was totally separate from the smell of blood, the sound of Nashhe’s neck snapping under the hands of beastly being that she’d been forced to work with and had even rescued. She lay down on the room’s narrow bed, lights slowly dimming to match her lack of activity. She didn’t sleep; Battling back her waking thoughts was so much easier than fighting off her dreams.
Arenrett peered through the two-way mirror, still trying to make sense of the wildly conflicting information she had received about this mysterious sapient. Second Solar’s pockets and influence ran deep, enough that she had been given permission to come aboard the Central Governance Interceptor after hailing them for both medical attention and briefing on the situation. They’d done a passable job of fixing her jaw given the scope of their equipment and lack of surgical talent, and she couldn’t fault them for reasonable shortcomings. She could always get further work done by corporate medical down the line, and the patch up was enough to get her back to work. Work that was of absolute importance to the future of her career, given that there was still a chance for her to salvage this situation without further involving high level management. She had already received word back on her initial assessment, urging discretion and advising that in light of the escalating situation her performance in the field would be re-evaluated accordingly. This was all but carte blanche for her to employ whatever methods were necessary to not balloon this into a massive scandal, and so she had requested to sit in on every interaction the on-ship xeno-biologists had with their new specimen. She’d spent days sorting through the testimonies of the surviving Klorrent personnel, and was beginning to piece together a version of events that would both hold up to public scrutiny and allow upper management to sidestep a scandal by offloading responsibility for the incident onto the best kind of scapegoat: A dead one.
Data recovered and decrypted from the on-world genome research facility painted a grim picture. The lead scientist at the facility had been so eager for new samples that she was willing to source specimens from questionable providers to continue her work. The sapient had arrived as part of an undocumented shipment, and had eventually broken free from captivity to slay not only the facility staff, but nearly two full teams of PSF contractors as well. The call for a discreet solution had come from a middle manager (who was virtually guaranteed to commit suicide in the next few days), and by the time the Gray Corps had arrived the problem had spiraled far out of control due breakdowns in communication and negligent local management. It was an understandable, easy to digest version of events that leveled the right amount of scrutiny at Second Solar for letting such a situation fall through the cracks while also absolving them of total wrongdoing. Best of all, it was even sort of true. The data they had recovered was going to be sent under the microscope at corporate, but the narrative she’d spent a week packaging was only sweetened by the results of initial attempts at communication with the sapient.
Despite a limited functional vocabulary, he had given Arenrett a glut of options when it came to spinning the portrayal of events. According to the testimony notarized by Field Judiciary Fongkhe Rhh, the sapient called itself a “Human”, and was from hitherto undiscovered pre-industrialized race. Humans apparently had an understanding of basic agricultural and metallurgical technology and this one was at least aware of the concept of writing, though he was totally illiterate. What was far more important were his additions to the events leading up to this entire disaster. His account included a number of extremely welcome bombshells, not the least of which was that he had been undergoing medical treatment during his time in the facility. He made it clear that he had been suffering from some form of illness prior to his abduction, and he had been cured of it during the time he was present at the facility. After recovering from his treatments on the ship (at an alarming rate, given the extent of his injuries) he was given a clean bill of health, thanks in no small part to the discovery of a pre-installed bacterial regulation implants courtesy of the genome research facility. This revelation not only resulted in an early lift of quarantine for crew that had come into contact with the rescued Klorrent members, but allowed the medical staff to conduct their interviews face-to-face.
In hindsight, that had been a mistake. The human had a number of objections to the proposed tests, most of which had involved him smashing things apart with his bare hands. This had luckily not included any personnel, but as the human had become more forthcoming with information after each session it spent in front of translation hardware, Arenrett too came to a better understanding of what had gone wrong planet-side.
The human had displayed an extreme reluctance to deal with needles or injectors of any kind right out the gate, and it was a minor miracle that he’d already been unconscious prior to the surgeries on his left arm. As his account unfolded word by halting word, it all came down to a handful of deadly mistakes from the staff at the facility: The human had been given an injection that prompted a severe allergic or psychotic reaction without proper restraining procedures in place, and without correct implementation of facility lockdown protocol, he had smashed his way through the staff and out into the woods. By the time the effects of the drugs had worn off, Ourous’ commando squad was already on the hunt. Everything from that point could be chalked up to justifiable self defense, especially considering some of things he’d been taught at the facility during his stay. Whoever thought it would be wise to teach a sapient that had considered bronze the pinnacle of weapons technology how to use a firearm was an imbecile, but she had known enough laboratory types for it to be truly out of character for them.
That still left some minor incongruence between the official account she was looking over and some of events described by the both the Ruunon and the Lorram. Of particular concern was the claim that the human had displayed an understanding of wireless communications when coordinating a way off world. This was easily explained as a quirk of the Ruunon’s memory, especially under the influence of temporarily altered brain chemistry… but even so, Arenrett couldn’t help but feel like she was missing something. Events had slipped into a reasonable timeline, the players had gone into depth about the course of their actions and everything was forecasting a highly favorable outcome for both Second Solar and her own career.
She watched the human for a time. He paced back and forth in front of the mirror, cagey but not on edge. He placed his hand up against the two-way mirror, looking down to his massive hand. His brow furrowed, and the Nerie wondered what exactly was going through that mind of his. She honestly had no idea what Central Governance had planned for the human, and once this case was wrapped up she had no need to know. Arenrett knew trouble when she saw it, and no translator or integration service was going to take the beast out of this one. Thankfully, they’d be back to a hub system in a few more days and she could bid this awful job farewell once and for all. She idly wondered what she ought to do with her bonus once she was back as she tapped idly on her personal computer system.
Between that and her work, it was no surprise she was too engrossed to notice the human’s eyes following her through the mirror.
It was 9 o’clock on a weekday morning, and Mirri Jael Gerrem was already drunk. It had been almost four months since she’d finished the hearings for Central Governance, and just about everything had gone totally tits-up in that time: Second Solar had dodged almost all public outrage in light of the absolutely ridiculous mock-up of events they’d published, Klorrent Private Security Force had fully disbanded leaving her jobless, and all of her friends were still dead.
She took another swig of her drink, and sniffed at her clothes. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d showered, and trash littered her living room. She’d would’ve been absolutely disgusted by all of this half a year ago, but things were different half a year ago. At least she’d had the pleasure of witnessing old man Klorrent hang Haess out to dry. The wily out bastard had scrubbed himself clean of any wrongdoing, and parked not only the responsibility of her team’s deaths squarely on him but also the ownership of the Dawn Bloom. Her ex-boss was now facing years of incarceration, and she’d even taken home a fat severance check.
She took another swig. Yup, still tastes expensive.
Mirri was slowly but surely scheduling out the rest of her day (To be included: more drinking, maybe food) when the front buzzer rang, startling her so badly that she tumbled face first to the floor. She picked herself up unsteadily from the pile of wrappers that littered the front of her couch, and staggered to the door. She hadn’t recalled placing any orders, but sometimes the drunk Mirri from last night bought presents for the drunk Mirri this morning. That’s what people meant when they talked about self-care, right?
The buzzer rang again. Didn’t your parents teach you patience is a virtue? What kinda useless shit did you learn at doorbell school? She scratched under her shirt, double checking to make sure that she was wearing pants before opening the door. She had to reach up to activate the release, and she stepped back as the massive doorway slid open to reveal the hall, and a very nervous looking Berdill woman looking up at her. She fidgeted, looking positively diminutive standing by herself in front of the Lorram sized entryway. The rent on her oversized apartment was a little steep, sure. The extra space more than made up for it though, and Mirri always savored the surprise of catching delivery people off guard.
Curiously, the Berdill wasn’t carrying anything for delivery. In fact, rather than a deliveryman’s attire she was dressed to the nines in full formal wear. What was someone like that doing here and now? Mirri was virtually certain she’d at least paid her rent for the month, and she didn’t recall having any outstanding debts… She was suddenly a bit more self-conscious about her slovenly appearance, but not enough to want to do anything about it.
So she broke the ice.
“Yeah, so whattadya want?” The woman winced at the rasp in Mirri’s voice. Maybe she should’ve gone for some water before starting on the booze this morning. Oh well, too little, too late.
“I’m Geriddyta Bossssk, representing the Phytton branch of the Unified Galactic Central Governance Bureau of Sapient Affairs.” the woman practically squeaked. Mirri had always thought the little fellas were kind of cute, in an awfully ugly way. They were probably a good word for that, but it was sitting on a mental shelf just out of reach. “I need to confirm that you are Mirri Jael Gerrem, and that this is your legal place of residence. Is that correct?”
“Sure am and sure is, unless I’ve been squatting in the wrong apartment for the last four years.”
“Haha, that is very funny! Since you’ve confirmed that, I have someone with me who’s been very eager to meet you! We’ve come along way for this, haven’t we-” The tail end of the Berdill’s statement was cut short by the heavy thump of footsteps approaching. The sound reverberated through the hallway, and Mirri’s breath caught in her throat as a massive shadow fell over her guest at the door. At once, he swung into view, planting a foot on either side of her tiny visitor and dropping directly into a squat. The very thing she’d spent months drinking to forget was now face to face with her, teeth bared in a mirthless grin. Without breaking eye contact, he gave his greeting.
“Hello Mirri, I’m Ryan. It’s so good to see you again.