Taniwha [II]

“Elder!” Galateya’s scales turned brilliant red. “What?! You can’t be serious. There are vast uninhabited regions we could examine first such as deserts, oceans, the polar regions where—”

“Sounds like a waste of time to me,” Evelithria shrugged.

“Following leads about characters from human children’s books is a waste of time!” Galateya barked.

The Admiral’s glare intensified.

“Without a proper Datamancer to process information, you’re seeing patterns where none exist, Scion,” Commander Zephyra commented with a yawn from the couch where she was being serviced by two Prad males.

More chuckles rippled through the assembled Omnids.

Galateya’s jaw clenched as she began losing control of her phase-shift. The familiar burning sensation of the suffering-infused celesteel architecture pressed against her consciousness, driving her mental.

Every surface in this damned ship radiated agony, making it impossible to think clearly, to maintain the calm needed for proper command and calmly presented arguments. It was no wonder that her performance metrics were consistently lower than those of her Wendigo sisters, with the damned ship walls and human art pounding at her psyche twenty-four-seven.

“You know, my spawnling,” Ixthia said thoughtfully, studying Galateya. “An affection for these primitives makes sense, given your… unique education. Tell me, do you sympathize with the humans?”

Galateya ignited brilliant red. “I do not! If…” She choked, trying to find a rational point that these idiot Elders would understand.

“What’s her unique education?” Commander Piashona asked.

“She’s a Thunderbird’s little experiment,” Zephyra replied. “Training an Omnid commander using human silicon-based technology, kobold programmers feeding terabytes of their cultural contamination to a soulless machine to produce a simulation of intelligence. I heard that Dr. Iowsh bound a fragment of a human soul to a thinking rock to make it less like a stochastic, hallucinating parrot and more like an approximation of a Datamancer.”

“Sounds like some fucked-up shit,” Piashona commented. “Why go that far?”

“Some deviation during training is necessary to produce flexible commanders.” Zephyra shrugged. “Especially when dealing with non-Wendigo Omnitypes who have low tolerance for god-crab block architecture.”

“If the null humans don’t interact with the Aether, then why would they make for such… delicious art for you?” Galateya finally barked. “You wouldn’t be hanging spliced humans across the entire ship in fancy frames if they weren’t… important!”

The pool fell silent at Galateya’s outburst. A few kobold attendants winced.

“Important?” Ixthia’s voice dripped venom. “They’re decoration, my spawnling! Nothing more. Their delightful suffering seasons our victories. Surely you don’t expect us to cut up our lovely, magically talented Prad servants for such.” She petted a wolf next to her, who smiled nervously.

“Human, magic-less bodies are null, they have zero Aetheric resistance. Meaning it’s easier to observe and sample their fear at a glance. You’d know that if you studied under a proper archmage instructor, Scion,” Zephyra scoffed.

“If their bodies are null, then maybe the consensus reality field is the way they interact with the particularities of the local Aether!” Galateya insisted.

“Your obsession with speculation about these primitives has gone on long enough, Scion,” the Admiral stated. “You speak of them as if their collective delusions could somehow affect dimensional physics! Something cannot manifest from nothing.”

“But,” Galateya backtracked, “it’s not something. It’s a type of, uhh, nothing. It’s… a type of magical suppression! Collective magical suppression!”

“Which is theoretical at best without proper analysis from a real Datamancer,” Vethisa sneered. “A silicon toy doesn’t count.”

Chortles arose from the others, including the kobold males, who seemed to find this comment particularly amusing. Whispers about her refusing to bind or to even sample a prad male danced across the pool’s edges.

Two red flashes suddenly appeared on the Division ranking chart. Sillicia glanced at the chart and winced.

“Hrmm,” Evelithria mused. “How did you manage to lose two Prads in… Cascade?”

“I… I don’t know, Admiral,” Sillicia admitted, watching her ranking plummet. She was still above the other Divisions, but this was unacceptable. Just when things were going so well for her… Two idiot cats had somehow managed to get themselves killed.

“You know what I think, my spawnling?” Ixthia smiled deviously, noticing Sillicia’s expression shift from victorious to miserable. “I think you need practical experience. Ground-level exposure to these humans you’re so fascinated by.”

Galateya’s scales shifted to defensive orange-yellows. “Elder, I—”

“Commander Sillicia,” Ixthia’s voice cut through the protest of her great-granddaughter. “Divison 881 is still currently first in the rank chart thanks to my fantastic leadership. Do remember who owns you.”

Sillicia winced.

“You’ll accept Commander Galateya as a… Beta-knight to make up for the unfortunate loss of, uhhh…” Ixthia squinted at the ranking chart. “Beta-Knight Zyra Blish. Let my newly hatched spawnling see first hand the situation on the ground. Perhaps she’ll learn how magically weak the local humans truly are from such valuable experience.”

“My Lady, will all respect,” Sillicia ground out through clenched teeth. “Division 881 operates at optimal parameters due to our team cohesion. Adding an… inexperienced Omnid without any kobolds would…”

“Would grant you management experience,” Ixthia interrupted her Commander. “Consider it an honor to work with my Scion.”

“My lady, I must protest!” Sillicia insisted. “Scion Galateya’s attitude and… unconventional theories might disrupt…”

“Are you questioning the direct order of a Legate, Commander?” Evelithria asked with a stern look.

“No, Admiral! My division is currently pursuing active leads on crystalloid stragglers, following a trail out from the compound! Having to babysit a knob… I mean, uhhhh… Orient a new Knight might compromise our current operational tempo!”

“I don’t need Slayer-damned babysitting!” Galateya’s scales flashed ruby-red. “I’ve ran more simulations than…”

“Simulations?!” Sillicila chortled bitterly. “You’ve played games with a Thunderbird-designed thinking machine while I’ve conquered nations and worlds for decades with my devoted kobolds! Do you even know how to properly interrogate a prisoner? Can you smell deception without a Scrutimancer? Have you ever had to execute your own subordinates to maintain operational security in a dungeon?!”

“I haven’t needed to execute anyone as I do NOT make mistakes that require covering up,” Galateya shot back.

Several commanders gasped.

“Hah. Sounds like this will be very educational indeed,” Ixthia purred, “Sillicia, do integrate Beta-Knight Galateya into your division. She’ll observe, learn and perhaps gain appreciation for the realities of conquest.”

“And if she messes up or compromises our operations?” Sillicia asked.

“Then you have my permission to punish her as you see fit.” Ixthia waved a hand. “Within standard regulations.”

Galateya’s blade-gun, Keiy, buzzed urgently. “This is a trap,” the weapon vibrated in her head. “They’re setting you up to fail.”

“I know,” Galateya sub-vocalized back.

“Commander Galateya, you’re to report to Division 881 within the hour,” Ixthia commanded. “Take only your weapon and armor. No toys, no excuses. You’ll be working with…” She stared at the chart again. “Marshal Commandant Nexxali Everrim. Do attempt to find out how our top ranked Commandant managed to lose a Knight and Scrut.”

“Understood, Elder.” Galateya nodded.

“Oh, and Galateya?” Vethisa called out as Galateya turned to leave. “Do try not to sympathize with the livestock. It’s so… unbecoming of a Frontenachii. Your performance will be monitored. This is your last chance. If you fail as 881’s Knight, we will be within our rights to expel you from the Third Fleet and make you serve on some abyss-forsaken, doomed world as an Assistant Secretary.”

Laughter followed Galateya out of the Pleasure Deck.

Galateya’s brisk walk to the transit gate was accompanied by Keiy’s criticisms.

“Sillicia will make your deployment miserable,” the blade pointed out. “She’s notorious for ‘accidents’ befalling rivals.”

“I’m not her rival. I’m barely considered a Knight at this point. I’m pretty much a Sixie without outright saying so.”

“You challenged her competence in front of the entire fleet command structure. In her mind, you’re worse than a rival… You’re an insult! And Sillicia doesn’t tolerate insults… according to what I’ve just read in her file!”

Galateya reached the transit gate chamber, a circular room lined with crystalline mana amps. A Deathmoth gater was snoozing in her round couch beside the black ring gate, a Jules Verne novel lying on the floor beside her.

“My lady,” a pradavarian shark manservant shook his sleeping owner. “You have a visitor.”

“Wugh?”

“I need a transit gate to Corpse Seeker 881-Zeta,” Galateya ground out as her gun flashed a red transit permit beam at the symbiote inhabiting the gate.

“Aight,” the Deathmoth scratched her fuzzy neck. She reached out toward the gate, and the runic lights flashed red. “Uhhh… yeah, no can do. Corpse Seeker 881-Zeta isn’t responding for some reason.”

“That’s odd,” Keiy observed. “Let me ping it.”

“Sorry.” The gater yawned, mandibles wiggling. “Want a gate somewhere nearby? Corpse Seeker 881-Alpha is closest.”

Galateya frowned, pulling up the fleet registry on her neural interface. Corpse Seeker 881-Zeta showed as “Diagnostic Cycle… Marshal Commandant Nexxali Everrim authorization.”

“Why would a Marshal Commandant put a Seeker into full diagnostic mode during a crystalloid hunt operation?” Galateya muttered.

“Perhaps there was damage from the vampire compound assault?” Keiy suggested.

“No, Sillicia would have mentioned that in her report. Seeker Zeta was inside Alpha and didn’t encounter any issues whatsoever after making planetfall,” Galateya cycled through the other Division 881 Seekers. All showed active status except Zeta. “Something’s wrong here.”

She pulled up the loss report for the two pradavarians: Knight Zyra Blish and Scrutimancer Nadera Korin. Killed in action, awaiting resurrection. The report was made by Marshal Commandant Nexxali, filed just thirty minutes ago. Brief. Too brief. No engagement details, no tactical assessment, only a line of “hostile crystalloid thralls - terminated.” The report came from the symbiote guns currently also in… diagnostic mode.

“Keiy, what’s the standard protocol for Prad deaths during crystalloid collection operations?”

“Immediate body recovery, detailed incident report including Scrutimancer sensory logs, and command review within six hours. Scrutimancer Nadera is dead and hasn’t been resurrected yet, so she cannot report.”

“This report has none of that. Just a single line.” Galateya’s scales shifted to suspicious yellows. “And why are their Seeker and both guns in maintenance mode?”

“You’re thinking… cover-up,” Keiy stated.

“I’m thinking something’s fucky down there,” Galateya muttered, glancing at the disinterested Deathmoth, who went back to her nap as her prad manservant began massaging her shoulders. “If I gate into another 881 Seeker, I could be walking right into Sillicia’s trap. She could claim I was interfering with operations or get me killed while making it look like a crystalloid attack.”

“So what’s our play?”

Galateya strode toward the equipment bay. “We go in independently. No gates.”

The equipment bay thrummed with activity as maintenance crews prepped vehicles for deployment. Galateya approached the quartermaster, a Rubicund Lindworm.

“I need a Mark VII glider frame,” she said, Keiy flashing her credentials.

The quartermaster’s gold eyes focused on her. “Purpose of requisition?”

“Emergency deployment to Earth’s surface. Division 881 support operation.”

“You’re assigned to 881 as a Knight?” The Lindworm arched a dark red eyebrow. “The standard procedure is to gate to—”

“Just assigned, and no can do. Direct order from Legate Ixthia to investigate matters.” Galateya let a hint of her great-grandmother’s authority color her tone. “Are you questioning a Legate’s orders?”

“No, Knight. Bay Seven. Frame’s prepped and ready.”

The Strand Glider Mark VII sat sleek and predatory, all black angles and compressed violence. Just an empty shell decorated with red stripes marking it as a Rubicund Omnid model, waiting for a symbiote weapon to inhabit it.

“Ready?” Galateya asked Keiy.

“Always,” the blade-gun replied. “Though I should note this is highly irregular.”

“Everything about this situation is irregular as fuck. Get in,” Galateya ordered. Keiy unfolded into a spider and skittered into the glider frame.

The frame pressured and shuddered as Keiy integrated with its systems. Panels lit up with pulsing red lights that shifted to green.

“All systems optimal,” Keiy voiced. “Though I really prefer my own form. Vehicle shells feel so… dispersed.”

Galateya climbed aboard, feeling the frame unfold more to adjust to her weight and form. “Course plotted for Cascade. We’re going in fast and low. No communication with 881 until we assess the situation.”

“You realize if you’re wrong about this, Sillicia will have every right to have you court-martialed?”

“And if I’m right, something’s compromising our operations down there.” The hangar doors irised open, revealing Earth below, blue and white and deceptively peaceful. “Maximum burn, Keiy. Let’s see what Marshal Commandant Nexxali is hiding.”

The frame erupted from the hangar at top speed. The acceleration pressed Galateya back into the seat as they dove toward the planet, the curvature of Earth filling her vision. The Pacific Ocean sparkled below, Mount Olympus’s wounded flank visibly damaged from the vampire compound strike.

“Incoming transmission from Division 881,” Keiy reported.

“Ignore it.”

“They’re demanding to know why an unscheduled glider is entering their operational area.”

“Keep ignoring it. How long to Cascade?”

“At this velocity? Three minutes.”

Galateya watched the landscape blur below. Forest, mountains, and the long, winding roads that connected human settlements like veins flashed behind her. Whatever was happening down there, she was about to land right in the middle of it.

“Detecting Corpse Seeker 881-Zeta ahead,” Keiy announced. “Still in maintenance mode. No defensive posture, no active scanning. Full shutdown. That’s… definitely not standard.”

“And the Marshal Commandant?”

“Unknown location. The Seeker’s in full diagnostic lockdown. Can’t access any logs until the cycle completes.” Keiy’s voice carried a note of suspicion. “Shall we investigate?”

Galateya landed and jumped off the glider.

She approached the Corpse Seeker, its crystalline segments dulled and unresponsive. The entrance was wide open, another irregularity to add to the pile.

Inside, the organic-crystalline interior pulsed with maintenance lights, every system and organelle in the process of checking itself and each other for damage. Two Pradavarian bodies lay crumpled in the storage area: a panther and a tiger in full armor, massive exit wounds visible in their skulls.

“Keiy, examine them,” Galateya ordered. The symbiote skittered around the corpses, flashing them with its scanner beam.

“Beta-Knight Zyra Blish and Beta-Scrutimancer Nadera Korin. Cause of death: catastrophic cranial trauma from projectile weapon discharge.”

“Their shields?”

“No signs of shield deployment. No defensive scarring on the armor.” Keiy paused, examining the entry wounds more carefully. “Shot from behind in the head. Close range.”

“Execution style. What could penetrate their armor without triggering the shields?”

“Two possibilities,” Keiy said, extending a sensor probe into one of the wounds. “Either the locals possess weapons we haven’t catalogued, which is highly unlikely given our intelligence, or…” The gun went silent.

“Or?”

“Or they were shot with an Omnid-manufactured sidearm. The kind issued to Marshal Commandants. The wounds are consistent with… Marshal Nexxali’s Extradimensional Vector Accelerator. Prad barrier shields cannot block Nexxali’s… incredibly unique, non-sapient weapon according to what I read up on her.”

“You’re suggesting Nexxali executed her own squad?”

“I’m stating facts. Draw your own conclusions.” Keiy moved to the weapon racks. “Their symbiote partners are here. Folded in weapon panels and in maintenance mode, same as the Seeker. They won’t respond until the diagnostic completes.”

“How long?”

“Based on the cycle timestamp… another three hours, minimum.”

Galateya’s mane rippled with agitation. “Can you override it?”

“Not without Marshal-level authorization. This is a deliberate lockdown, not a malfunction.”

“Then we track manually. Scan the area. Find Nexxali’s trail.”

“On it.” The gun skittered outside.

Galateya was glad she had augmented Keiy with every possible symbiote weapon mod available. As she didn’t have kobolds, it was Keiy’s job to function as her personal Scrut.

“The Marshal was inside this primitive vehicle,” Keiy concluded after scanning the red Cherokee. “Drooled on the seat. Very recently. Along with… a human male.”

“And then?”

“The trail leads to the structure.” Keiy’s sensors focused on the Gothic mansion.

Galateya approached the house, noting the damaged porch.

“The structure and surrounding area was scraped clean by symbiote weapons very recently,” Keiy added. “The Astral traces are too clean.”

Galateya growled. The cover-up details were intensifying.

The front door opened.

A human male stepped onto the porch. Dark hair, average height, and tired hazel eyes that seemed utterly unsurprised to see a Taniwha Omnid standing in his driveway.

“Can I help you, Miss…?” he asked, with a tone that was far too casual.