The sentient starship Galactix has arrived at Iron’s End with a colony of Nall warriors and priests, coming just in time to strike a killing blow against a Rustborn ship that was threatening the damaged station.
Now the inhabitants of Iron’s End may get the chance to meet the newcomers…
This event follows Drone Work and A Flash in the Dark…
Through the entryway to Iron’s End’s hangar, a small orb, no bigger than a softball, flies in and pauses for a few moments, hovering a few feet off the ground, before an image of an elderly man in a crisp gray business suit materializes around it, standing where the orb was once hovering.
Dorian Rake disembarked the Dragon’s Flight some time ago and now returns to the docking hub from the direction of the Shambles marketplace, followed by Patch and a few other curious onlookers. The four-armed Nall seems particularly curious about the orb that turns into an old man in a business suit.
The newly formed image of an elderly man strides over towards the approaching Rake. “Greetings. Would there be someone of the station’s administration available to meet?”
Newt exits the DF sometime after everyone else has but, it seems, at the right time for Big G to make an entrance. He stands and observes the orb, curiosity eventually turning to mild surprise as the orb de-blobs into an old guy. Whoa. He resumes towards Rake and old guy.
“I mean, we sort of have a bit of a power-sharing arrangement on Iron’s End,” Rake says. “I’m the marshal, Dorian Rake.” He nods toward Patch. “Patch here keeps the market running. And on days like today, holds the station together.”
The Nall bobs her snout in acknowledgement. “I had a great deal of help in that regard.”
“Indeed. A most efficient arrangement, if history has taught me anything. My name is Galactix.” the image says. “This is a remote unit of sorts that I can use to communicate. My main body would, for obvious reasons, not fit in your hangar bay.”
Newt stops near everyone, “Hey-ho.”
“We appreciated the assist out there,” Rake tells the avatar of Galactix. “But the Rustborn are likely to come back with vengeance in mind.”
“These Rustborn sound like a particularly nasty sort.” Galactix responds. “But it did seem they were intent on firing on defenseless people, and I could not stand for that.”
Newt says, “Yeah. Thanks for that. Bigtime. Getting blown up would suck.”
Blot pipes up from behind Patch as he wanders into the docking hub: “Y’know, we’re not all that defenseless. We’ve got a Falari pilot who runs around with massive bombs in his cargo hold.”
“If what I detected is accurate, a one of a kind, and not likely to be repeated.” Galactix says.
Newt looks Blotwards and then back, “Really?”
Rake gives a scowl to Blot before returning his attention to Galactix. “And where are you from, exactly? Are you one of a kind or likely to be repeated?”
Galactix makes a rather sad expression for a moment before recovering. “Likely to be repeated? Perhaps one day… but not by my original creators. I was once one of many… but they, like my original creators, are long dead… over 500,000 years now. My system of origin is far from here… the other side of the galaxy, in fact. But in more recent history, I was involved in galactic affairs in the Orion Arm well over a century ago… before the plague. I and my companions have been travelling and scrounging ever since, avoiding most contact if possible unless it was necessary.”
The lyiri has been off to the side readjusting herself after being in an eva suit for a while. She pads over to the orb turned man in a suit, listening for a moment before introducing herself, “She is Sefra daughter of Arya. You seem to have many stories and thank you for helping us.” She blinks a moment realizing she hasn’t been on Iron’s End long herself.
Rosalyn exits the Dragon’s Flight coming in range to hear and see the exchange “An eyewitness account to ancient history is a treasure beyond imagining. Most here seem to have lost family to some degree, We do our best to make our own. I’m Rosa, by the way.”
“Your companions,” Patch begins, tilting her head with curiosity. “I am given to understand that they are like me?”
Galactix looks over towards Newt, and a flitter of recognition passes across his face. “Curious… you look quite familiar.. Newt, is it? Yet… you look no different. Very odd, indeed.” he says, before looking to Patch, and nods. “Indeed. 104,000 of them, to be precise.”
Newt stares back at Galactix… …. “Uhhh… No. We ain’t met.”
Patch clenches her snout shut at the revelation that more than 100,000 Nall dwell aboard Galactix. Rake, meanwhile, finds his curiosity in Newt renewed. The marshal crosses his arms and says, “More to the kid than anyone suspected, I guess.”
Galactix raises an eyebrow. “My memory banks are quite clear on that….” he says to Newt. “Ungstiri, if I remember correctly.”
Newt’s eyes widen with incredulity and he takes a small step back, “Nuh-uh. Maybe all kids look alike to you!”
“So, you met this kid before the Helix plague?” Rake considers this briefly, then shrugs. “That might explain why we haven’t been able to meet his parents. But it raises new questions about how a kid lives more than a century and never ages.”
Blot gets a greasy smile on his face. “Bet there’s some interesting answers to that.” Pew-pew fingers. He wanders back toward the marketplace.
Galactix stares at Newt for a few moments.. “Mmm.. no.. bio scan confirmed.. Newt Panderyn. I’d be interested in hearing how you have been getting along.” he says, before looking back to Rake. “Speaking of questions, it does raise what happened here. It has been some time since I detected a polydenum detonation, then a vessel that was intent on causing harm to you that showed clear evidence of polydenum damage. Might as I ask as to what the situation is?”
Newt facepalms, “I am not-Look now what you did!” He indicates Blot, “He’s pew-pewing me again!”
“Relax, Newt,” the marshal replies, looking back at the departing merchant with a furrowed brow. Then his attention returns to Galactix. “We were harboring refugees who escaped from the Rustborn warchief. He wants them back. One of our residents took off with them and happened to have a bomb to detonate. Far as I know, they got away.”
Galactix again seems to pause. “I would say so.. I am detecting a clear Otherspace drive trail leading from the station that is relatively fresh, and it continues for several sectors.” he says in a matter of fact tone. “So it would seem these… Rustborn… are not a particularly pleasant group of people.”
Newt blinks and just stares at Rake, “Relax?”
“Yes,” the marshal responds. “You’ve managed to live 100 years without ‘pew-pew’ killing you. I’d say your chances are pretty good you’ll make it through pew-pew attacks by an obnoxious and pretty slow-moving merchant like Blot.”
Patch bobs her snout in agreement with the marshal. “That said, I don’t care for Blot’s attitude toward the boy. We may have to do something about that.” She looks toward Galactix. “It is good to meet you, and your assistance is most appreciated, but I must return to the market and help with repairs.”
Galactix nods to Patch as she prepares to depart. “It is a pleasure to meet you as well.” he says, before returning his attention back to Rake. “It would seem that your departing resident must have been quite lucky in his find. My readings indicate that was an experimental warhead, perhaps one of the last to be produced before the collapse of the Consortium.”
Newt scowls but then indicates at Patch with both arms, “At least SHE understands! And I’m not 100, either.”
“Blot won’t hurt you, kid,” Rake assures Newt. “Especially not if you’ve got Patch on your side. No one willingly sticks their hand in a threshing machine.”
Galactix looks at Newt, and ponders. “Given estimated age before the fall, passage of time, I would approximate at least 110, so no, not 100.” he says.
“Iron’s End has its share of oddities. The list grows exponentially, it seems” She gives Newt a curious but sympathetic glance “No one’s going to hurt you.”
Newt double-facepalms and mutters, “I am not 110, either.”
“Okay, so, let’s leave the kid alone about his age. For now,” Rake chuckles. “So, you’ve got 104,000 Nall aboard your ship. We’ve got maybe a fifth of that for our total population living here on various decks, according to the last census. No telling how many are hiding out in the dead zones we can’t get to, but we hear rumors. Anyway – that’s all to say that we have limited resources. We’ll share what we can. My hope, though, is that your Nall can work, help keep us supplied. Obviously, you’re welcome to remain in-system.”
“I’m sure we might come to an arrangement. Quite a few of them are warriors… they may come in handy should the Rustborn return. Let’s say they are… eager… for combat.” Galactix says. “I do have a quantity of supplies on board I am also willing to share. I am sure we can arrange something mutually beneficial.”
Newt just stands there quietly getting himself together.
Rake nods. “All right.” He smiles at Newt. “Make yourself more Nall friends, kid. No one’s going to mess with you then.” He then asks Galactix: “Did you want to look around Iron’s End?”
“I would be happy to.” Galactix says.
The marshal leads the way through the archway that opens into the marketplace. “We call this spot The Shambles. Name makes even more sense right after we just got grav back online. Pardon the mess.” Merchants are busy restoring their stalls, putting goods back on shelves. Sereta nods at the marshal and the newcomer as they pass. Blot tucks his commlink away.
“Zero gravity in the sense that most beings experience it is not something I have experienced myself,” Galactix says. “But it does seem most inconvenient.”
“Certainly can be,” Rake agrees. He stops, watching as Patch assists an elderly vendor. “I think she might be a little disturbed about your passengers.”
“I do get that impression. Is there a history there I am unaware of?” Galactix inquires.
“Not that she’s been in a hurry to share,” the marshal answers. He shrugs. “But she’s one of the only Nall that I’ve ever met. Everything else is the stuff of legends, really. Any time I try to bring up their history, she deflects.”
“Given what I know from my time, it is understandable. Their people did not have a very positive reputation in those days,” Galactix says.
Sefra has been following along quietly with Rake and Galactix just taking in as much as she can in her bit of ‘observer’ mode.
“Well, I just recommend they tread lightly,” Rake tells the avatar. “She’s generally suspicious of strangers anyway, never mind if they come from her lost tribe.”
“Given their natures… that may be difficult,” Galactix concedes. “But I will have a discussion with them.”
As the tour moves on through the market, Rake asks: “You’ve been roaming the stars with these Nall for 100 years. Have you made appearances like this anywhere else?”
“Here and there… isolated groups around the Orion Arm. Mainly to trade for parts and resources,” Galactix says. “We rarely stayed in one place for long.”
Sefra blinks, “Are you just worried about staying in one place? She knows it has taken the Lyiri a long time to go out in the universe after the plague.”
“That’s a good question,” Rake says, looking from Galactix to the Lyiri and back as he stops near a baked goods vendor. “You’ve got a boatload of Nall who can probably hold their own in a fight. Why’d you feel like you had to keep moving?”
“That vessel was not the first I have destroyed.” Galactix says. “In the early days, we faced many trying to raid us, not for supplies, but for technology. They saw me as a prize, and it was becoming obvious that as time passed, I would become even more desirable to the wrong elements, as civilization rotted away.” He stays silent for a few moments. “We were boarded a few times, the warriors were able to fend them off but not only did they cause damage to me, they suffered losses as well. It would have become a never-ending cycle. So… we chose to make ourselves as scarce as possible.”
Sefra tilts her head a moment thinking and then nods in understanding. “It is sad you have to live like that. She is unsure a good way to make it better, though at least you met some better people in this stop. Well, for the most part.”
“You’ve kept yourself scarce, but now you’ve made a pretty big announcement with that Rustborn ship,” Rake replies to Galactix. “I hope you stick around a while, if for no other reason than to give those lunatics cause to think twice before they attack again.”
Galactix grins a bit. “Indeed. Curiosity may have gotten the better of me, but I am still functional.” he says. “It has been long, so long since I had good conversation with a variety of people, so I do plan on staying around. This is very refreshing.”
Sefra is still obviously listening, “Do you need help with anything? Her skill set may not be as varied as some here but she feels the need to ask.”
Rake nods at Sefra, then looks at Galactix. “Let us know if we can help.”
Newt
Newt kinda just stands there for a bit at a loss as to what to do with himself. Just one blabbermouth starship. One giant blabbermouth starship but, still, a blabbermouth. And that’s all it took. Stupid thing. Still… eventually he cools his heels and makes a momentous decision. Patch. He can do stuff. She needs stuff done. That’s nice and safe. Newt heads off.
Patch is finishing up with one of the vendors, two booths down from Blot. She places a canteen back on the shelf, then notices the boy approaching.
“You and your friends did great work,” the Nall informs Newt. “You saved a lot of people. You seem to like to keep busy. And you’re competent with a ship. I can’t say I totally understand what makes you tick, child, but as Rake said, you’re more than what you seem and I’d like to put you to work for Iron’s End.”
Newt looks really pleased at the compliment, his mood changing. “Well… home needs stuff and I need stuff and I can do stuff so why not do stuff?” He shrugs but he’s happily smiling now.
“We’ve got a lot of old repair drones that were malfunctioning before the Rustborn attack,” Patch continues. “And any that worked before are wrecked now. So your first job is fixing the drones so we can get them busy repairing the hull.”
Newt grins. “Was gonna ask about that. Saw some aircon drones weirding out.” He pauses, “Hey. What’s my pay and stuff?”
“How about we start with free fuel and repairs for your ship?” Patch asks. “Lodging, if you need it. Free meals in the pub. We can probably also work out a stipend in scav credits too.”
Newt considers this for a moment and nods, “But I’ll totally hold you to the last bit. I do good work. So where are the drones?”
“Well, that’s the tricky bit,” the Nall says, clacking her fangs together. “Some, as you’ve seen, are in the ducts. Others are just scattered throughout the decks of Iron’s End. I’m sure plenty already got scavenged by folks like Blot, so you may need to get with him about replacement parts.”
Newt scowls, pondering, “Will he be helpful enough?”
“If he’s not,” Patch draws a sharp talon in a line in front of her throat.
Newt raises his eyebrows and then grins, “Okie dokey. I’ll go get at the ones I know about first. Don’t suppose you have a location of any of them before they died?”
“I do not,” the Nall says. “Happy hunting.”
Newt replies, “Totally” and begins to head off for where he saw the drones last, readjusting his backpack.