ALL NOVEL Book 1 – Lesson 5: “Do what you must, ask Forgiveness later.”
Alpha felt like an idiot.
He dodged another tentacle from a breach in the hull and planted one of the nest seeds inside a nearby pile of floating debris.
Of course it could [Fold Skip]. He’d hit the thing in the Fold, to begin with. The bastard hadn’t just been firing pointlessly after he’d escaped into the vault; it had been carving a groove big enough to make the skip.
Its ‘laser‘ wasn’t a weapon; it was a bloody Fold engine! That made sense in retrospect; the fact it could also vaporize military-grade alloys was just a bonus. An evolutionary 2-for-1, in other words.
Unfortunately, his lack of knowledge about space-dwelling cephalopods meant he had to set his trap while facing frequent attacks from surprise tentacles. Alpha had seen the videos! Those were the worst kind! Biologicals were disgusting.
The creature had latched itself onto the hull and was tracking Alpha through unknown means. Any breach was soon clogged with dozens of wriggling tentacles reaching out to grasp at him. Most were met with fire from the TAWP’s point defense turrets, but that was only a temporary solution. He didn’t get the chance to fully stock up before his forced escape from the vault. If the next part of his plan worked, the glowy boy wouldn’t be a problem for much longer, though. After that, he could focus on gathering what he could and investigating the other problem he’d recently discovered.
That was a problem for future Alpha; it was time to plant some seeds! Of destruction!
Alpha was a farmer, and his crop was death!
Another nest seed was nestled deep in a pile of floating debris. That made three dozen in the last hour. Alpha would have preferred more, but time was running out. With each passing moment, the creature scuttling across the hull fragment was healing and growing stronger. He’d get pinned in some corner of the wreck if he waited much longer, with no easy way to escape. The trap was set; the rat was scurrying around, and now, all he needed was the ‘cheese.’
He crossed his fingers that Squidward was still hungry…
With a command, a drone slipped through a nearby opening, dodging a flailing tentacle by an inch. It stopped in front of Alpha, flaring its RCS thrusters to bleed off excess momentum. When the drone was still, Alpha pulled out a small metal orb. A small flex of the TAWP’s manipulator caused the orb to crinkle slightly, forming small divots and cracks from which an immense amount of light and energy poured forth.
Kelvinite was a strange material. Mined from the heart of dead stars, it had originally been considered a scientific curiosity with strong radiophobic properties—until the discovery that it could be processed into a material capable of repelling most forms of energy, such as heat and electrical energy, unlike anything else before it.
Even visible light and radiation, like x-rays or radar, could be stored with almost 99.999999999% efficiency. It was a super material whose value shot up 10,000% overnight. Ever since, kelvinite had found uses in nearly every industry in the Federation, from creating perfectly insulated habitation units to manufacturing DEA—directed energy armor—and stealth technology.
When you needed to store a large amount of energy in a small package for a long time, kelvinite batteries were the go-to solution. Its greatest use was the development of so-called ‘mirror batteries.’ Simple in concept, these devices trapped energy-carrying particles in a state of suspension that allowed for long-term storage. This made them perfect for powering medium-sized, autonomous items that needed to operate for long periods without maintenance or recharge, such as scouting units or satellites. Other storage methods, such as the fusion batteries that powered the scavenger drones, might provide greater adaptability or availability. When it came to sheer capacity and longevity? Kelvinite batteries were second to none.
These weapons-grade kelvinite ‘cores’ were used to power the TAWP’s weapon systems, recharging from Alpha’s own [Class-V Power Core], itself a top-of-the-line kelvinite battery/generator combo designed to power battleships. His weapons could draw from his power core directly, but it was far more efficient to store ‘charges’ within several smaller, dedicated batteries. It also made them perfect as the power source for medium-scale DEWs—directed energy weapons)—like those found on small fighters or transport vehicles.
He needed something to draw away the creature’s attention for a moment. Giving up one of these batteries now would be painful, since it would be a while before he could get a new one, but it was worth it. With any luck, its hunger would outweigh its anger. If it didn’t, Alpha would just have to pull the trigger and hope things turned out right.
The surface of the drone rippled as an indent formed in its chassis, into which the cracked kelvinite battery nestled perfectly. With a click, a cover slid over the pulsing ball of energy that was the cracked battery. It wouldn’t last long, even if the battery didn’t go critical in the short term; the energy it released was already beginning to turn the drone’s outer surface orange. Its orders received, the drone retreated. Alpha switched to the drone’s camera and watched from his hiding spot.
The drone made a beeline through the debris, emerging into open space close to the creature. It must have moved right on top of him during his brief pause. The drone moved into position, ignored as the creature homed in on its more annoying prey. That was, until the cover holding the cracked battery was pulled back.
The instant it did, the creature’s attention snapped to the drone, its entire massive frame shifting as if to stare at the blazing beacon of energy. At least, Alpha assumed it did, as he had yet to find anything on the creature he could have called an ‘eye.’
Squidward gave a spatial roar distinctly different from the rage-filled cry of before. Its tentacles extracted themselves from the nearby debris and rushed to grab the glowing drone. Alpha cheered in victory, took manual control of the drone from the AI, and gave the seeds their commands.
The creature attacked the battery drone with a vigor it hadn’t shown before, grasping and striking at it with the desperation of a starving man. He had to be quick and not give it time to recover more than it already had.
With his current arsenal and the creature’s ability to [Fold Skip], there was no way he could fight the thing off at its peak. Not without making sacrifices he wasn’t comfortable making.
Still, if this plan worked, he wouldn’t have to worry about it much longer. All he needed was a few more moments.
Alpha panicked for a moment when a lucky auroric beam passed dangerously close to the drone, causing it to spin out of control. The drone was becoming hard to control and less responsive as the cracked battery continually damaged it. With each passing moment, the tentacle’s swings came closer and closer, with the drone less able to dodge. It wasn’t long before the inevitable happened; the creature’s longest remaining primary tentacle wrapped itself around the drone, dragging it into its eldritch maw.
Alpha’s frustration turned into triumph as the seeds gave the ‘all ready’ single the next moment. Just in time, too. What Alpha was about to do would be considered a war crime on some planets, or at the very least, gross animal abuse. This might cross a line even for him, but when the chips were down, you did what you had to do.
“Activate [Bot-flies]. Target has been marketed by beacon signal AA-33-@11.”
The hull debris rumbled to life, rocking, as several dozen nests worth of [Bot-fly] drones rumbled to life at once.
[Bot-fly] drones were Alpha’s take on the [Mosquito] drones, small, pineapple-sized drones used to pester and control local wildlife, keeping them away from protected areas. [Mosquitos] were mostly considered harmless, delivering a mild shock via a built-in laser or a capsaicin spray mist for multiple targets. [Mosquitos] were one of the more common drones in the Federation. They were used everywhere, from home gardens to keep out pests—such as nosy neighbors—to private security.
Forward military bases on new worlds even used swarms of thousands to drive back hostile wildlife upset at their new guests. Some planets even used them for crowd control when someone got uppity about some new local law—though this was frowned on by polite society.
The [Bot-fly] drone? They were much less… ‘not dangerous.’ Originally, Alpha had taken the [Mosquito] model and modified it into an anti-ship weapon. Swarms of drones would be released from carriers, overwhelming the target’s point defenses with their huge numbers and small, nimble size. Those that made it through would attach to the target’s hulls via clamps and magnetic locks. That was where things took a turn. Instead of harmlessly zapping the target ship with tasers, the [Bot-fly] would release a secondary drone nicknamed a ‘wiggler.’ These wigglers would burrow into the enemy ship’s armor, using the armored [Bot-flies] as cover, then seek and destroy critical ship systems—systems such as power lines, controls, and even life support.
When they were first released, [Bot-fly] drones had been devastatingly effective, and within a year, pirate activity in the testing systems had dropped 95%. With time and exposure, pirate gangs had developed only a few effective counters to the swarms. Things like hidden, redundant systems and false decoys could trick the wigglers, but [Bot-flies] remained an effective weapon in the Federation military, especially against smaller fighters.
Then someone got the smart idea to try using them against some of the more invasive and dangerous megafauna. The results had been… horrific. The wiggler’s AI couldn’t properly identify ‘critical’ aspects of a large, terrestrial creature, so they would continuously burrow through the creature’s flesh at random until they hit something important. If not enough drones were used at once, this could take a long time.
After that incident, the Federation Senate passed a law banning the use of [Bot-flies] against biological life outside emergency circumstances. And even then, authorization had to go through several layers of approval, including deep bio-scans of the creature to identify critical areas such as heart and brain equivalents. In the 100 years since their creation, such situations had only occurred thrice—Each one against dangerous, abnormal creatures who threatened untold costs in damage and life.
Unfortunately, Alpha didn’t have the time or equipment to do those himself.
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<< Alpha Log - #001
6952 SFY-Third Era, Date unknown.
Due to recent events and the unlikely hood of rescue anytime soon, I, Lieutenant Colonel ALPHA-555-12-4412, designation SEAU-01, of the Third Galactic Federation’s Expeditionary Force, 201st Federation Special Operations, 3003rd Federation Vanguard Battalion, have decided to record these personal logs in hopes that they might one day be found.
It’s been two days since my encounter with the unknown spacefaring cephalopod lifeform. Cleanup of the… remains, is ongoing. Activation of the [Bot-flies] went according to simulations, with the deployed drones able to locate critical organs within less than three standard minutes. What didn’t go according to plan, however, was the sudden, catastrophic detonation of an unidentified energy source within the creature’s body upon its death.
Thankfully, the remains of the Anatidae’s munitions bay provided me with enough cover to avoid the blast, with minimal damage.
Unfortunately, the [Bot-flies] and accompanying drones weren’t so lucky. Current estimates sit at nearly a 87% loss. To make matters worse, the creature’s dying throes before detonation triggered spatial quakes in the local area. This further increased the damage to the weapons vault, resulting in a total lockdown. I’m currently unable to access the main systems from the outside, and if these readings are right, I’ll likely have to cut my way in, which isn’t a viable option with my current kit.
in addition, what remains of the Anatidae is currently drifting away at an accelerated rate, thanks to the combined forces of the spatial quakes and the creature’s detonation.
In other words; I’m royally screwed.
In any other situation, it would be prudent to shut down the TAWP, tuck my core into a hidey-hole and pray the general figures out how to find me sometime this me sometime this millennia.
Yet, whether through fate, providence, or sheer blind luck, it seems I have another option available to me. My money is on the latter, but then again, I’m broke.
You’ll find attached to this report, several still images captured by my drones during the engagement of the unknown lifeform
Go on. Take a look. Maybe you can explain this to me.
…
…
That’s right. I have no idea what the hell is going on anymore. How an entire star system suddenly materializes out of thin vacuum, I haven’t the slightest clue. No, I wasn’t just too distracted by the living rave of a squid to notice, either. You’ll also find recovered images of the area before the creature appeared, as a comparison and proof that I’m not making any of this up.
My current working theory is that the creature’s parting gift, coupled with the instability of the local space, was enough to create another Fold Break, throwing myself, and what remains of the Anatidae, into a nearby system.
But there are some major issues with this theory. The biggest of which being the chances of that were as likely as jumping out of a plane and into the ocean, then hitting a lone shrimp at terminal velocity… In other words, not even worth calculating.
Then there’s the fact that Fold travel in such a way should’ve been distinctly noticeable.
Yet, the only other option I can fathom is that the Fold Break has somehow brought the star system itself to me, which is just as unlikely.
How does something like that happen? Magic! Or at least that’s what I’m going to tell the eggheads, because I have no idea.
How would you even fit an entire star system in the Fold?!
Regardless of the how or why, the appearance of this system has opened new options for me. While the TAWP isn’t designed for space operations, I’ve managed to adapt several of the blueprints stored in my database, and used the TAWP’s nanoskin to create acceptable long-range sensors.
Not that the data they provided makes any more sense than a star system appearing out of the void.
The star itself is common enough. It is a bright, pale-gold, main sequence star, roughly 20% larger than the star once known as Sirius A. My equipment picked up a few odd readings from the start, but nothing that can’t be explained by the presence of solar exotics. All the better for what I have planned.
No, the odd thing is the dozen or so celestial bodies orbiting the star. I would question if I hadn’t screwed up the design of my equipment, if the surviving drone’s long-range telescopes didn’t support at least some of what they were telling me.
It will still be some time until I can get close enough to confirm my findings though.
To that end, I have begun jury-rigging some of the surviving drones into a rudimentary propulsion system. It’s not going to be enough to actually move the several-miles-long fragment of dreadnaught hull I’m stranded on any significant distance. But it will be more than enough to steer the wreckage in the right direction, at the very least.
I just need to nudge the hull into the path I want, and hope everything goes like the simulations say it will.
If this works out how I want, then both my resource issues and my current predicament, will be far more manageable.
If it doesn’t? Well then, I’ll just have to do what I’ve always done best.
Wing it and pretend like the results are what I was planning all along.