Archive | Monday, 1:20, June 20, 2011

[Fiction] Freedom, Part 3 [First Draft]

It had been some several Sirugian lunar cycles, by the newly rechristened Imegaa Enzael‘s log, since the former terror-weapon, the ex-Enforcer Prime, had turned on his masters, literally destroying the crew, dispersing their bodies into a burst of neutrinos, and commandeered the ship.

The Mirus labored, with only minimal time spent at eating, rest or sleep, to refit the great vessel, an experimentally upgraded Bloodferret-class (English translation) warship, more to his liking and needs.

He had recently discovered and accessed manufacturing templates for automation systems that when completed were quickly installed in the appropriate locations throughout the ship, and after several months of work, he completed installing systems which would not only operate the ship without full crew, but also do the work of damage-control, system diagnostics, and preventive maintenance.

Even the ship’s factory systems could now be operated without crew, and new replacement parts could be sent for by the diagnostic systems and delivered by worker drones to the needed location.

He inspected his handiwork, satisfied with the results, and smiled, surgically-enhanced canines just short enough to avoid protruding over his Terran lips showing.

He quickly closed his lips as a sudden wave of undefinable remembrance and revulsion came over him.

He was silently grateful that he wasn’t forced to see his own grin in a mirror, since the Kai’Siri had altered his teeth, bringing him more in line with their own…esthetic standards…for reasons he would rather not speculate on.

The ship’s records, even cleverly doctored as they were, suggested however vaguely that he wasn’t just…employed…as an unthinking weapon.

His fangs disgusted him, and he felt alien in his own body whenever he saw them. They…gave him uncomfortable thoughts, for despite significant differences as distinct species, Homo sapiens and Homo sirugensis shared many things in common…

He summoned his Emissary to him when this feeling passed, as quickly as it had come. There was work to do.

Not having had the time to teach his android go-between English, the exchange took place in the less grammatically-truncated Kai’Siri tongue.

A translation follows:

“My Lord,” Imegaa Mokkano began, “The ship is fully ready for operation. I have completed the inspection you ordered and found all to your specifications. We can go to war, if that is your wish. I and the vessel await your command.”

The left corner of the Mirus’ lip upturned slightly at the news, and briefly, he even allowed himself a full smile. The presence of his servant eased his dislike of showing his perfect but alien teeth.

“Imegaa, as sweet and loyal to your cause as your namesake..,” he paused as he considered his response, “To bring war to the warlike would much gladden my heart, but there is other business that must needs be attended to first.” He continued, “The ship’s records show me that it was scheduled for a raid on a world that I have not seen for many decades now, for youthful though my body is, my spirit is greatly aged with what knowledge I have of my horrific labors. I would go to that world again, the world of my birth, to see if it still lives in spite of Kai’Siri design, and if so, to offer what warning I may and assistance I can render, for as you have your loyalties to me, so I to the home of my own race. I must protect it if at all I can. So…”

He paused again, with an almost face-splitting grin, as much as a human can comfortably manage, and with full good humor, “…set course for Earth! It’s been a long time, and revenge, sweet revenge, will have to wait for another day!”

“As you desire, so shall it be, Mirus.” the android said with a curt nod and its left hand, palm facing right and fingers pointing upward, across its petite feminine chest in the traditional Kai’Siri gesture of respect.

In less than a moment, the great vessel’s engines rumbled with activity, as it prepared to make the jump through Superspace, the Mirus, humming tunelessly to himself and seated on the bridge’s command chair which was now more seemingly suited as a throne.

To Be Continued…