Express Delivery

Tengur fought to his feet and shuffled my way. "I owe you my life, stranger."

Jenala nimbly evaded a brutal overhead swing by a wrench-wielding Gravon. The tool was almost as long as I was tall, probably used to lever some massive locking bolts. The Gravon used it like a two-handed bludgeon and he had no qualms of going for lethal blows. The ground shook as the heavy, adjustable head crashed into the deck plating. Jenala dashed up the handle and slammed the hilt of her blade against the Gravon's temple, knocking him out.

"Where is Ezra?" I yelled. "This has to stop before more people-"

I saw her. And finally I understood where San'yas had gone. He had taken the shape of one of her guards. And as I watched, he caught her arm with bone-covered tentacles, neutralizing her sword. Another tentacle shot out, clamping over her face. Ezra tried to yank at the fleshy tube but sharp ridges appeared on its length. San'yas took the sword from her.

"Give up and I will spare you," the shapeshifter said, her voice booming.

Ezra's knee came up, slamming against the tentacled Gravon's midsection. She winced as her patella impacted a solid bone plate. Howling, she tore the choking tentacle off her face. The claws San'yas had used to hook it into her skin tore long strips of flesh.

"You'll have to kill me before I'd even think about giving up!" Ezra snarled, landing a vicious uppercut against the shapeshifter's head. Her fist sunk into gummy, yielding biomatter without causing apparent harm.

"A pity." San'yas said. "I would have preferred a peaceful solution." She dodged another wild swing from the freely bleeding Gravon leader then swung the massive blade at neck height. A moment later, Ezra crumpled to the floor. Her head bounced down the stairs and came to rest just outside the circle.

"Stop! Enough already!" Tengur yelled. "Before even more blood is senselessly spilled today! Ezra is dead!"

"Listen to the man," I added, slamming a fresh magazine into the plasma rifle and hitting the 'reload' button. The furnace spooled up with a very menacing whirr.

Slowly, the brawls stopped. "She's dead?" was whispered again and again.

San'yas morphed back into the androgynous Faceless form. "I'm sorry," the shapeshifter said. "But it seemed killing her was the only way for reason to prevail."

"A pity," Tengur agreed. "I am deeply sorry our leader so callously disregarded the ancient traditions. We will leave as soon as you have left the ship. It seems this clan will require new values. And leadership." Around us, challenges were already issued.

* * * *

We watched the Gravon leave from the safety of our repair barge. San'yas' shuttle hovered close by.

"What just happened?" Jenala asked. "The whole duel... was kinda pointless, wasn't it?"

"Seems like this clan was more divided than appearance suggested," San'yas said over comms. On the monitor built into our dash, the shapeshifter could be seen lounging at the controls of her spacecraft. "From what I saw of Ezra's thoughts before I killed her, she killed her father to take the clan into a more... flexible direction. More raiding, less adherence to the rules of warfare. Not everyone seemed to agree but she had them cowed through sheer force. And some strategic uses of sex." San'yas turned back into her Zuthrian shape and grinned lustily.

"You seem mighty pleased with yourself," I said. "What was so important about that ship for you to risk inciting a full-blown Gravon skirmish? And don't tell me it's all about those power conduits."

San'yas sighed. "Ezra's sources were spot-on. Maybe one of the other survivors blathered too much. Anyway, the ship, besides being almost in working condition, features a large cloning and medical facility which can be repurposed for Precursor species. It also contains a storage unit full of Faceless bio-weapons." A woeful little smile tugged at the shapeshifter's Zuthrian lips. "Let's just say unleashing even a single Cephalonite on an unsuspecting planet might cause a catastrophe I don't need on my conscience."

"Cephalo-what?" Jenala asked. "Even the word gives me shivers."

"Follow me," San'yas said. "The reason I came out here in the first place lies in the storage vaults. I promised you a power core and we can find one in there." Her shuttle powered up the engines and arced towards the ominous Faceless cruiser.

"Do you know what she meant?" Jenala asked me.

I fired up the barge's engines and followed the shuttle. "No clue. In 'Fading Stars', the Faceless usually don't work with bio-weapons. Maybe a mind-altering drug once in a while but that's about it."

"Because the galaxy would hunt us even more if they ever knew what we have at our disposal," San'yas said over comms.

"Do you think it wise to show us then?" I asked her.

A smoky laugh. "Ah, Sal. In exchange for not telling the wider Galactic Community about our bio-weapons, I won't talk about your companion. Or set Nemex on your trail. Besides, what you are about to see will probably be way too strange to be believed." San'yas' shuttle had stopped in front of an octagonal hangar door which slid open a few moments later. Beyond, a large, cavernous space loomed. Red lights came on as the shuttle flew inside.

"Put on your personal atmospheres," San'yas cautioned. "I only just activated the ship. It will probably take a few days until the life-support system has fully engaged."

"What about the bio-weapons? Don't they need life-support?"

"They do and they have it. A separate circuit to keep the cloning chambers and storage vats alive."

"What? Cloning chambers... alive?" Jenala turned a porcelain shade of pale.

"Think of them as bio-mechanical 3D printers," San'yas said while I landed the repair barge.

Jenala pulled the hood of her flight suit over her head and sealed it. I followed suit and together, we left the cockpit. According to the suit's sensors, the hangar was below freezing temperatures and -- thanks to the open hangar doors -- completely devoid of air. Despite that, there was gravity. San'yas, wearing a rather archaic space suit, waited for us next to another doorway.

"What's with the antique suit you have there?" I asked her.

San'yas clicked her wrist against mine and repeated the gesture with Jenala, establishing comms contact with the two of us. "For exactly this reason. Now I can talk to you. If I were alone, I simply would make myself void-proof but since communication is key..." She shrugged. "This way."

The doorway opened and we went deeper into the ship. Faceless seemed fascinated with odd geometry and angles. The corridor was taller on one side than the other and the walls were covered with faintly glowing tech detail, like angular arteries. The occasional point of red energy flashed along these artificial blood vessels. Our helmet lamps provided most of the illumination as we trudged along the corridors. We walked for probably twenty minutes until San'yas stopped us at a lit-up doorway.

We entered a large, octagonal chamber. The wall opposite our entrance was another doorway, the other six were occupied with strange cocoons. Large, round sphincter-like openings seemed to stare at us, while a latticework of metallic scales and tubing was wrapped around the cocoons. Thick, pulsating tubes vanished in the gloom overhead. The space was much warmer than the outside, easily thirty degrees Celsius.

"These are our cloning chambers. At least some of them. They not only can birth whole Faceless but repair damage most other species would call lethal." San'yas tapped a fleshy lump near one of the sphincters. It folded open, drooling a sticky, gross fluid as it did so. The light of the helmet lamps peeled some kind of tongue-like cushion and several tentacles and metal appendages out of the shadows.

"And they work with Precursor species?" Jenala asked. She poked her head into the open sphincter and looked around.

"Not yet. The neural network controlling them needs to be reprogrammed. If I were to push you in right now, the system would try to make a Faceless out of you and probably kill you in the process."

"Yikes." Jenala retreated and San'yas let the sphincter smack closed. We left the room through the opposite doorway and walked through six more of these chambers. Next was a much more normal-looking med station, with scanning tubes and the familiar, rectangular shapes of healing tanks. The sight of semi-autonomous operating tables interspersed with the healing equipment was unsettling, to say the least, especially since some of the appendages hovering over the tables seemed more organic than metallic.

"What is this place for?"

"Research mostly. This particular battleship was fitted for recon and long-range exploration. Therefore it needed a sickbay capable of operating on prisoners." San'yas stopped at another doorway.

"In here. And don't be alarmed, nothing will hurt you." The door hissed open and we entered a space nearly as big as the hangar. Rows upon rows of tall glass cylinders lined the wall while banks of arcane machinery made up the center of the room. Arm-thick hoses and convoluted nests of piping snaked under the ceiling. Ominous red lighting came off the floor and ceiling, bathing the... things hanging in stasis within these cylinders in a hellish light.

"This is the main reason I didn't want the ship falling into Ezra's hands," San'yas said. "These Cephalonites would suffice to enslave a dozen or so star systems."

I peered into one of the glass cylinders. Two handfuls of worm-like... things hung motionless within a clear liquid. They were maybe as long as my middle finger, with four long, strand-like growths emanating from one end and ten sharp, claw-like legs running along their length.

Suddenly, the closest one twitched and propelled itself my way. It collided with the glass and reeled into the depths of the stasis tube. I recoiled, nearly crashing into San'yas who had joined me.

"What... the fuck?"

"Cephalonites," San'yas said, gesturing towards the cylinders. "Psycho-active parasites. They are inserted here-" Her finger poked my neck, "and coil around your spinal cord. Their feelers attach to your nerves and hook you into the hive mind. Most Precursor species lack the mental fortitude to resist."

"What's the freaking point?" I asked. "I mean, your kind are shapeshifters and telepaths-"

"But we don't have infinite numbers. And our idea of settling new worlds is not pretending to be the target world's native inhabitants. Eventually, we will need a workforce." San'yas cleared her throat. "Or rather, the hive mind would act like that. Sometimes I forget I'm not part of it any more."

"So these Cephalonites enslave people?"

"That would imply them having a mind of their own. No, think of them as psionic anntenae linking the recipient's brain to the hive mind in much the same way we are." San'yas touched her own neck. "Or rather those of us who still are connected. You get the idea."

"That's ghoulish," Jenala hissed. "You take away people's free will!"

San'yas shrugged. "On the contrary. I just prevented these things from falling into the hands of a borderline psychopathic war monger. Seen enough?"

"More than enough," I said, warily eyeing the glass cylinder. More of the Cephalonites were stirring. "And there goes my beauty sleep for the next few days."

"This way then." San'yas led us from the Cephalonite room and down a few more corridors and down a long elevator shaft. The room we were in seemed to go forever, with only two parallel light bands overhead providing murky illumination. Shadowy lumps of... stuff were piled high on each side of a wide corridor.

"What is this place?" Jenala asked, focusing the beam of her helmet lamp. A pile of angular armor plates was etched from the shadows. No idea if they belonged to ground vehicles, spacecraft or something else entirely.

"This is the manufacturing plant," San'yas said. "If the ship was fully crewed, about two hundred drones would produce anything the Queen needs, often within minutes, no matter if she wants a tank, a fighter wing or mechanized combat armor. Ah, here they are."

In an alcove, neatly sorted in triangular shelving, sat strange black orbs. The smallest was barely bigger than my fist, the biggest of them, suspended from the ceiling on sturdy crane arms, was bigger than the repair barge we had used to come here.

"And here are the power cores I promised you," San'yas said, chuckling. "One of the bigger ones should do."

She left us to stare in wonder at the around two hundred different power cores, only to return a few moments later with a repulsor sled which looked utterly out of place in this demonic storeroom. It was one of the modern Nor models, bedecked in day-glo orange and the obligatory yellow-and-black warning stripes. San'yas picked out a particular core and we fixed three repulsor discs to it. Despite the weight-reducing technology, it took the three of us to maneuver the black sphere onto the sled.

"Do you think you can mate it to my ship?" I asked San'yas.

Another amused chuckle. "Not only living Faceless organisms are able to adapt. Our technology is as well. You'll see. Tomorrow."

* * * *

Jenala left the shower in my cabin wrapped in a fluffy towel. "That was a pretty exciting day, don't you think?"

"That's putting it mildly," I said, peeling out of the flight suit. "Teaching you how to drive a Herc, fighting for our lives amidst brawling Gravon and then seeing the inside of a Faceless ship and all the scary shit they have there... yup, 'exciting' isn't quite cutting it."

"When will you put me back together, captain?" the AI complained. "I feel very exposed with my parts scattered all throughout the hangar."

"You should stop whining. Tomorrow you will get a new power core. A bit of embarrassment is a small price to pay for a much beefier generator."

"Yes, captain. I will suffer in silence then."

Naked, and very aware of Jenala's eyes on my crotch, I opened the bathroom door. My comms, on the small, wall-mounted desk, rang.

"Give me a fucking break," I grumbled. "Mind?"

Jenala snatched the unit and tossed it my way. I took the call. San'yas' Zuthrian face smiled at me. Her eyes swiveled downwards, taking in my naked chest and abdomen. Thankfully, the tiny camera would cut the image right about there.

"I hope I'm not interrupting. Would you mind joining me for dinner later?"

"Dinner? Or sex?" I asked. "I don't know about Jenala but I'm beat."

"We should go," Jenala said, coming up behind me. Her naked breasts caressed my back. "What's on the menu, San'yas?"

"In accordance with my current shape, I intended to roast Sand Dragon and offer salad and stone bread."

"We'll be there!" Jenala said, smoothing her body against mine. "And we'll bring the perfect drink for the occasion." Her hand came around my waist and closed around my cock.

"We will?" I asked her. I went semi-rigid as she slowly stroked me.

"Of course!" She released me and sprinted from the cabin only to return a few moments later with a simple brown bottle. A stylized Sand Dragon was etched into the glass, the outline adorned with simple white paint. I recognized the bottle as one of those high-end drinks I had smuggled for Ventras.

"I really don't want to impose but I think I owe you a bit of a 'thank you' for helping me out," San'yas said earnestly.

"Okay, okay." I threw a hand up in defeat. "Give me ten minutes to shower then we'll join you. Where?"

"Use the elevator at the back of the hangar. Deck sixteen. You can't miss it."

"Do we need our suits?"

"No. I've made sure to activate life-support, thanks to your generous donation. You probably wouldn't even need to dress." San'yas bathed me in a radiant grin.

"See you in ten." I shook my head and closed the connection.

"She's horny," Jenala observed unnecessarily.

"Says the lady going straight for my cock before I even had a chance to shower."

"You smell nice, all sweaty like that." She licked her lips. "Means you worked really hard. I respect that."

"I prefer my sexy time freshly showered. Not that anything will happen tonight if I have my say." I closed the bathroom door behind me, took care of my bladder and hopped under the shower. After the day's stressful events, I wasn't in the mood for a sterile ultrasound. Hot water it was. Ten minutes later and thoroughly rinsed off, I returned to the cabin.

Jenala had put on her robe and weapons belt. She sat on the mattress and was braiding her hair, tying the last strands together with a bit of cloth. She suddenly looked very regal, a far cry from the "wild child" look she had shown before.

"I hope you're not expecting me to synthesize a tux or the like," I said. "You look different."

Jenala shook her head and grinned up at me. "I just don't want my hair to be in the Dragon steaks," she aid. "Wear what feels comfortable."

"Mhm." I pulled fresh pair of briefs, jeans and a faded T-shirt depicting a certain four-winged, long-nosed fictional spacecraft out of a cabinet and dressed. We left Consuela through the airlock -- I had lowered a temporary bulkhead where the door to the cargo hold was -- and took the elevator to deck sixteen.

The hallway we ended up on was in pristine condition. It led away to the left and right, furnished in flawless, cream-colored wall paneling and dark glass at around shoulder height. If I didn't know better, I would never have guessed we were inside a huge derelict. Discreet overheads provided warm, indistinct illumination. An antique welder robot, painted to match the surroundings, pointed with a claw arm. The welder had been replaced by a glass- and bottle holding basket.

"This-way," the voice box squawked. The machine turned on its treads and whirred ahead of us, happily bleeping and blooping until we reached a set of double doors with circular inserts. The doors opened as the bot approached. Beyond was a vast hall with a vaulted ceiling held up by pillars. Thick sheets of fabric had been used to subdivide the space and someone had welded lavish candleholders to some pillars which bathed the room into an intimate twilight. The tell-tale aroma of roasted Sand Dragon hung in the air and hidden speakers piped Zuthrian tribal music into the room. It consisted mostly of rolling, ominous drums interspersed with chants and bright hits of flutes or bells.

The small robot stopped in front of a paneled counter. It looked like real wood. Behind it, garbed in a dress made from colorful strips of cloth, stood San'yas wearing her Zuthrian shape. She was working a large pan. In metal bins next to the roaring gas oven, I saw colorful salad.

I looked around. "What is this place?" I asked her.

"Welcome. This used to be one of the fortress ship's mess halls, the one for officers and high-ranking visitors." She used a spatula to flip a large slab of nicely veined Dragon steak. On another oven, this one barely more than a large, heated stone plate, a wide loaf of stone bread looked simply delicious.

"When it was obvious I could offer not only repair services but receive a bit of loving care in exchange, it became necessary to renovate some of the facilities."

"And that's genuine Dragon meat?" I asked.

"Of course. I may have to conserve resources but I do tend to buy supplies from time to time. Stasis chambers can keep this stuff fresh for centuries. Please, sit down over there and get comfortable. I'll be right over."

"We brought this," Jenala said, offering the bottle of Dragon Milk.

"Fantastic. Leave it with me to temperate." San'yas took the bottle, removed the clay stopper and sat it down besides the hearth.

The spot San'yas had indicated wasn't far. Boxed in by three thick sheets, it was a cubicle maybe six meters to a side. Much like in a Zuthrian cave, soft cushions were piled up around the edge and a flat, round piece of stone served as the table. The waiter bot joined us, carrying a clear bottle with a sparkly green liquid and three glasses.