Chương 158: Nova Wars - Chapter 129

Do you hear them screaming? Do you hear them clawing at the walls? They come for the ones with the beating hearts! They come for those who call for aid! The lifeline is severed! The lifeline is whole! The lifeline has never existed! They have opened the door! They scream for rof maercs yehT! rood eht denepo evah yehT! detsixe reven sah enilefil ehT! elohw si enilefil ehT! dereves si enilefil ehT! dia rof llac ohw esoht rof emoc yehT! straeh gnitaeb eht htiw seno eht rof emoc yehT?

sllaw eht ta gniwalc meht raeh uoy oD? gnimaercs meht raeh uoy oD Because they hear you. -Date of record 50 years post Terran Emergence -Date of record 82 years pre Terran Emergence -Date of record redacted -Date of record 000000000000 -Date of record Null - Found scrawled on the interior walls of Citizen Drasoini -2217's domicile Commodore Navelu'uee watched as the Terrans walked by. She noted that the Detainee stood off to the side, smoking her Treana'ad smokestick, watching with cold gray eyes.

The two animals pranced around, their hooves clacking on the deck of the starship's flight bay. The largest of the Terrans looked around slowly and Nav found herself wondering why that one was so big compared to the others. He dwarfed the Detainee and made the others look small. Perhaps some kind of warrior caste? He was slightly bigger than even the Terran Knights that she had seen. They moved over to where the knights were, the female with the pipe starting to talk in low tones.

"Don't think I've forgotten about you," the Detainee's voice was cold and hard. And coming from right behind her. Nav jumped to her feet, turning to look. The Detainee stood behind Technical Sergeant Treston, her hands in front of her skirt, her left over her right, the metal ring on her left ring finger gleaming. Sergeant Treston froze, going perfectly still. To Nav's senses it was like he almost vanished.

"Your... your majesty," Nav stammered.

"Not hardly," the Detainee snorted.

"Call me..." her smile grew wide, the cigarette held between her teeth, and madness sparkled in her eyes.

"Dee."

"Of course, Dee," Nav's head bobbed up and down as he nodded in agreement.

"Just know, I haven't forgotten you," the Detainee said. She turned and walked away, reaching up to remove the cigarette from her mouth. Nav sat down, staring at the chamber that everyone had left. Technical Sergeant Treston resumed combing the fur at the top of her head, down the back of her head and her neck, to her collar. His fingers were firm and strong, not too firm, not too light. She closed her eyes, trying to pretend she was anywhere but in a ship full of insane lemurs. fifty years...

Her eyes opened again.

"Just sit here, wait until everything calms down," the Technical Sergeant said. Nav bobbed her head again as the human's fingers combed through her hair. She watched as the Terrans left, twice a Terran stopped but TS Treston waved them on. Finally there was only the lingering smell of Treana'ad smokestick smoke and Terran pheromones left.

"I am ready to leave. I would like somewhere that I can get something to drink," Nav said slowly.

"All right," the Terran scooted back and away. By the time Nav stood up the Terran was already standing and looking around disinterestedly, as if everything that had happened was the most natural thing in the world.

"I'll walk you back to the nearest dining hall." Nav nodded jerkily. She knew that the ship's computer could show her where to go, all she had to do was turn on her implant or turn on the eyepiece. She just cringed slightly at the thought of it. Nav was extremely attentive as they moved through the busy corridors. Three times work parties moved by, carrying boxes the first time, then a long cable the second time, and metal piping the last time. She pressed herself against the warm wall each time.

She noted that some of the Terrans on the work parties were not wearing their tunic tops, wearing the short-sleeved undershirt only. She stared at the muscles on the arms of those of the work party who were carrying the heavy objects. Walking behind TS Treston she wondered if the human's muscles were just as large as the Terrans on the work parties. She gave her head a sharp shake, almost rattling her brain, to banish the thoughts. Nav just followed Treston to an intersection, where Treston stopped.

"Do you want to eat in the mess deck or in the wardroom, Commodore?" Treston asked.

"What's the difference?" Nav asked.

"Wardroom is where officers eat, mess deck AKA the galley is where the enlisted and non-commissioned officers eat," Treston said. Nav frowned.

"Where will you eat?"

"Where you eat. I've been assigned to you as of now," Teston shrugged.

"Is there a real difference?" Nav asked.

"Yes. Cutlery and dishes, it's more formal, smaller than the galley, a little more lavish than the galley. The galley is where you go to grab some food, eat, and get out," Teston said.

"The galley. I would just like the drink," Nav said. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. Treston nodded and went right. Nav followed him and it wasn't too far away. Nav knew the ship was huge, kilometers long, kilometers thick, kilometers wide, with a massive volume of cubed kilometers. Yes, a lot of it was engines, atmospherics, and all the other stuff that starships needed. Then the armor and battlescreens and weapons that warships needed.

But it still startled Nav how it always seemed that important (to her) facilities were quickly available, never too far away. The directional system had been easy to memorize and easier to use, unlike the system that the Dra. Falten used, which based on how many decks from the engines for the crewmembers who never came to the officer section, as how far from the bridge for the officers, combined with how far from one's quarters the place in question was. The galley was still busy.

While Nav had been learning how to tell the difference between Terrans even more than by their skin and hair color, she had also been learning how to decipher the insignia on uniforms and even the ink embedded in their skin. Yes, her implant or her eyepiece would tell her what all of that meant but she preferred to turn both off. fifty years... She had trusted technology and what others had promised her for her entire life. And she knew, for it had came to her in a dream, that even if she helped save the Dra.

Falten Empire from the Mar-gite, that her mother would be dead before she could return with a simple injection to save her. The line to the drink dispenser moved quickly and she sped through the menus when it was her turn. She punched up two Countess Crey Super Asperagas and Celery Flavor Explosion!!! Blast Fizzypops. She shoved one in a pocket and cracked the top of the second one, slugging down half of it. It eased up her dry mouth. She moved over by Teston.

"Technical Sergeant Teston?" she asked.

"Yes?" the Terran was looking out over the galley with an expression that Nav had learned was indifference. It was an expression that simply said "I'm staring and do not have any concerns, thoughts, or opinions on what my sensory organs input to my brain."

"What was your job before they assigned you to me?" she asked.

"Technical lead on Third Platoon, Kilo Company, Ninth Warmek Battalion," Treston said.

"I make sure that all the warmeks for Third Platoon are in top shape," he shrugged.

"Kilo Company was rotated out of the deployment line right now."

"Why?" Nav asked. Teston shrugged.

"The Detainee requested it. Who knows why. When it comes to the Immortals, I've been trying to keep my distance." Nav looked around, leaning back against the wall, her shoulders against the thick paint coating the wall.

"But you have to follow me around and assist me."

"Are you an Immortal?"

"No. I am Dra. Falten." Treston looked at Nav.

"Then I'm staying away from the Immortals as far as I can."

"Oh," Nav stated. After a few moments Treston made the weird muffled snort that Nav had learned was a way that Terrans tried to hide an expression of laughter.

"What?" Nav asked.

"Turn on your eyepiece for a moment," Treston said. Nav sighed.

"If I must."

"Trust me," Treston said, his face alight with amusement and pleasure. Nav reached up and squeezed the button, turning the eyepiece on. It went through the startup process, the text scrolling down the eyepiece. Finally, she saw that she had over sixty new messages, a hundred different quiktexts, and sixteen important official ship-net updates. She also had three hundred and fifty general use ship-net messages. One was starred and from Technical Sergeant Treston. She sighed and opened it.

It was just a quick message of "LOL" which she had learned the meaning of and then an attachment. She opened it and stared at it.

"Local female muridae relieved to find everything still all fucked up!" was in text at the bottom of the simple looping image showing Nav standing in front of a burning building that had fireworks and rockets exploding from it. Treston was snickering.

"Why is it funny?" Nav asked. Treston stopped snickering.

"It must means that you're relieved to discover that everything is just normal."

"But if everything is, as the image puts it, all 'fucked up', and on fire as the image suggests, that's not normal and reason for deep concern," Nav stated. Treston smiled again.

"We Terrans, we humans, we have a saying: Situation normal, all fucked up. We learned to embrace the chaos and confusion and absolute pants on head stupidity of war." Nav just nodded, reaching up and turning off her eyepiece again.

"Of course, we've also learned to understand conflicting and paradoxial things without suffering painful cognitive dissonance," Treston said with a smile.

"Like what?" Nav asked. She tapped the icon on the side of the can and the empty can dissolved into dust that twinkled as it vanished. The pulled out the other can and opened it.

"Like: We had to destroy the village to save the village, military intelligence, jumbo shrimp," Treston smiled. Nav knew that her implant or eyepiece would explain all of it to her, but she refused to do so, sipping at the can while she considered it all. When fighting something like the Mar-gite, the only way to save a village that was infested with them, with everyone being devoured, would be to destroy it.

She had learned that Naval Intelligence wasn't very intelligent at times, like any other large organization. As for whatever a shrimp was, it was obviously tiny, as jumbo referred to large size. She felt better having reasoned through it all without relying on her implant or eyepiece.

"Can I see the warmeks?" Nav asked.

"I understand if I cannot because the warmeks might be military secrets."

"Give me a moment," Treston said. His eyes got distant and then he nodded.

"Your fine to see the meks. I can give you a tour." Nav stopped by the drink dispenser and grabbed four of the large cans and jammed them into her thigh pockets. She liked the spice of the Red Radish and Wheatgrass Veggie Blast Fizzypop and sipped at it as she followed Treston down to the mekbay. She had never actually seen meks up close. Treston led her outward from the spine and along the central deck plane, heading for the mek storage and maintenance bay.

"When we get in there, don't cross any yellow lines, don't cross any red lines at all. They'll be painted on the dreck, on the bulkheads, and on the walls," Treston said. He looked at Nav.

"There are a thousand ways to die in a mekbay and all of them will hurt the entire time they kill you." Nav just nodded.

"It has all the dangers of a modern starship, all the dangers of being around large meks, all the dangers of a mechanic's shop, and all the danger of a construction area," Treston said.

"There is ammunition in crates, laser focus crystals, and explosives just sitting around. You need to be extremely careful and follow my instructions." Nav just nodded.

"Not having your implant on or your eyepiece on won't change your safety metrics. If anything, most techs run their implant on query mode or passive mode only. That last thing you want is a commander's memo appearing in front of you while you're in the middle of using a torque wrench on a bolt that needs thousands of pounds of torque," Treston said. He paused at the door, putting his arm out to block Nav off from stepping forward even if she had intended on it.

"Be very careful in here, Commodore. I'm going to warn you now, I've asked some of the warmek jockeys to come down in case you have questions, as well as put two of my maintenance teams on alert that you might have questions," he said. His expression and voice were serious and Nav nodded. She had given such lectures to visitors aboard warships she had served on.

"I understand," she said.

"This isn't a Pacific Rim class warmek, these are all Stiener Class, seventy five tons and above, to one hundred tons, not counting the warframe," Treston said. He shrugged.

"We're not sure why the weight classification is the way it is, but it's been like that since before the Glassing and there's no reason to change it." Nav nodded again. Treston moved his arm and thumped the elbow of his other arm against the door control. The doors whooshed open and Nav noted that there were three overlapping blast doors. It made sense to her. If there was an explosion in the mekbay, it wouldn't be easily vented down the corridor.

Explosions, like water and electricity, followed the path of least resistance. A set of heavily armored doors and then the walls would let the designers create a path for the explosion where it would cause the least amount of damage to the surrounding vessel. Nav followed Treston closely as they moved into the bay. She had expected it to be close, cramped, claustrophobic. Instead, it was spacious and spread out. Large gantry sections, huge cavernous bays, and massive warmeks standing roughly fifteen meters tall.

Treston gave her a tour, showcasing the modular weapon design, how the entire warmek was mission and operator configurable. Treston stressed several times to Nav that pilots often made their own decisions on their weapon packages. All of the warmeks smelled of fresh paint and the camouflage patterns were crisp and clear without any scuffing or bleed.

The amount of personal autonomy that the Terrans allowed the warmek pilots to engage in was startling, but the longer Nav listened to the Terrans talk, the more she understood that in a weird way the conflict, the paradox, of how the Terrans approached things gave them a lot of strength. By the time she left she felt she understood the warmek pilots and Treston a lot better.

She thought it was interesting that all of the warmek pilots admitted that they were combat support, engaging in combat operations in support of a Ringbreaker unit. Nav felt that many Dra. Falten would have felt slightly inferior to the Ringbreaker pilots and those who worked on them. That the mere existence of the Ringbreaker suits would have somehow felt minimized or otherhow made lesser many Dra. Falten.

Instead, the Terrans all had stories about how a Ringbreaker could only be in one place and could only fire on what it could see, that how if you really wanted cities and terrain wiped out, destroyed, or reduced to rubble then you called on warmeks instead of a suit designed to blow a hole in a moon. When Treston dropped her off at her stateroom door, she felt as if she understood Terrans a bit more. She went in her room and sat down on the small couch.

She dialed up a drink and sipped at it, enjoying the taste of Terran celery and BobCo Budget Whiskey Par Excellent. She felt like she understood the meme now. She felt so confident that she didn't even feel any anxiety when the lights flashed and the intercom announced that the ship was about to enter hyperspace. Commodore Navelu'uee dialed up another drink and sipped at it. The world paused for a second, everything froze for a moment, then everything started moving again.

The firepower on the ship would stop the threat to the Dra. Falten Empire, she was fifty years...