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Post by StealthStyleL on Oct 24, 2017 15:15:56 GMT
Hey! Instead of writing events and stories on the main TU thread, you should put them here instead. I just fear they might get lost between on applications, and it would be nice to have a place just to look at these. So, yeah.
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Post by mitobox on Oct 26, 2017 4:08:40 GMT
(Copied from normal thread:) Event: Ionax Assault on Pirate StationMade in collaboration with TheGraveKnight Date: 67 ASE Combatants:Ionax | Giree Pirate Clan | - Fleet Commander Xivas
- Sergeant Zul
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Part 1 - Fleet Assault:Fleet Commander Xivas eyed the great expanse past the observation deck, unfazed by the turbulence of his ship, a formidable Aegis-class, as it disengaged warp travel.
For several days, the Ionax had lost contact with civilian ships not far from the isolationist Biktom Directorate. Although the Directorate itself was (not unreasonably) the initial suspect, the culprit was found to be a clan of Giree pirates unaffiliated with their species’s patron empire. Still, the wrecks raised more questions than answers; analysis of the ships’ data logs showed signs of forced entry, implying that the pirates had looted not only commodities, but information as well.
The implications – of who could use the data, for what – were unsettling. Still, for all its quirks, the clan displayed nothing else of note. Its base of operations was a meager asteroid facility, boasting only a single flak battery resembling a floral satellite dish, as well as a hangar that seemed unsuitable for more than a few fighter squadrons. Due to this, only a small counterraid fleet was deemed necessary to remove these defenses.
Xivas, recently-appointed, had been chosen to lead this raid in order to prove his worth in the field. He savored the prestige of leading a fleet into battle aboard an Aegis. Meanwhile, in the same ship, Sergeant Zul prepared with his squad for the next step: to infiltrate the base itself in a search for the stolen data - and, if possible, the pirates' intentions for it - while neutralizing any resistance that remained. He made sure to pack adequate magazines for his Nova Rifle, and equipped his plasma sword’s hilt in an accessible position.
Far ahead, Xivas noticed the pirates’ asteroid, bathed in the glow of an unclaimed red dwarf. Some of the fleet’s smaller vessels - particularly Arbiter-class warships - drifted ahead, arranging themselves to most efficiently tap into the Aegis's protective energy field. Already, icons representing them were within view on the fleet operators’ terminals, colored blue to indicate shield integrity. Soon after, however, the terminals displayed something less comforting.
“Multiple vessels are exiting the station’s hangar,” an operator declared. Xivas nodded, faintly making out the gleam of their hulls. He held down a button on his command terminal. “Interceptors, assume forward position,” he commanded. “If the pirate vessels approach, proceed to attack.” “Acknowledged,” the squadron leader replied, and the fleet’s Razor-class ships zoomed to the front of the Aegis.
The pirate vessels began circling the asteroid as more continued to emerge, contrary to expectations. Just how many are there? Xivas thought.
Just then, a pinprick of green light shone on the asteroid. “The station is activating its-” an operator began, but was cut off as a green ray surged toward the fleet, blasting one of the Arbiters before faltering. The ship’s icon on the terminals began to blink yellow.
“The flak discharge dealt damage to shield integrity,” the operator said, “but no hull damage is evident.” However, Xivas did not respond; his attention was diverted to the pirate vessels, which had stopped appearing from the base, and instead began flying toward the fleet. The interceptors immediately sped forward to counter them.
“We have the vessels within range,” said the squadron leader. Some of the operators switched their terminals to a view of the interceptors’ flight cameras. “The vessels appear too small for a Giree to pilot effectively,” one noted. Xivas contemplated this, along with the vessels’ underestimated numbers. “The Giree ARE known to prefer combat drones,” another operator added.
The vessels that must have been drones were in the shape of two perpendicular crescents. The horizontal one extended further to the sides than its vertical counterpart. Upon the Razors’ approach, they moved in sync to surround their adversaries, peppering them with orange discharges that dealt a pittance to their shields. The Razors, in contrast, retaliated with blue shots that quickly disabled their fragile targets.
As the remainder of the fleet came within range, the Ionax warships provided fire support, only to have shield energy burned away by the pirates’ flak gun. Nonetheless, the drones were picked off until none remained. “Interceptors, return to defense position,” Xivas ordered through his terminal. “Fleet, maintain course until we get in range of the station’s flak battery."
The ships pressed on, bearing the flak gun’s blows as they approached. The operators’ terminals showed one ship after another falling to suboptimal shield integrity, nearing red-blinking critical status with each ray they withstood. Eventually, however, it fell within targeting range.
“Flak battery in range, fire at will!” Xivas declared, and the fleet’s armaments erupted into a surge of blue light as photon streams pummeled the flak gun. Eventually, its most delicate mechanisms could take no more, and the structure exploded with a blinding flash. The high-velocity debris bounced harmlessly off the Ionax ships’ shields.
“All pirate defenses neutralized,” Xivas said. “Commence boarding the station.”
Part 2 - Boarding Party:Sergeant Zul stood like a metallic statue as the boarding shuttle silently ferried him and his squad to the pirate base. He gazed intently at the closed docking port before him, awaiting the moment it opened.
This was far from Zul’s first assault on a pirate stronghold; he had distinguished himself throughout the ongoing turmoil of the Metallic Void, despite the many brushes with death he had faced. He had been granted the position of sergeant for his proficiency, but, all in all, lived only to see the Ionax through this dark age as a way of honoring his fellow Soldier-Castes’ sacrifices. In this regard, it was his hope that this mission to secure stolen Ionax records would contribute to the Void’s end in some way.
The eerie quiet came to an abrupt end when the shuttle trembled upon connecting to the base. A few of the squad’s newest recruits gripped their Nova Rifles tighter, and glanced to their left and right. Meanwhile, its more seasoned members turned to the docking port in unison. With a gust of air, the port slid open to reveal the base’s gritty loading bay, and the squad charged forward.
The Ionax were immediately met with a hail of orange energy rounds. Some shots met their mark, creating orange-hot punctures in their quarry’s metallic exteriors. Two squads retreated to their shuttles to provide cover fire, while the rest, Zul’s among them, pressed on.
Upon reaching the safety beneath the platform, Zul’s mind raced for his next course of action. He registered that he was accompanied by a second squad and their sergeant. He took note that there was a rocky wall to the right, and that the other advancing squads had made for a tunnel running through it, instead of for the platform’s underside. Straight ahead, there were stairs that led to the platform from behind. To his left, he noticed a stairway curving up to the platform as well.
He tapped his fellow sergeant to get his attention. “There’s two stairways,” he said, pointing to both. “We can flank them.” His peer nodded. “Squad, this way!” He beckoned, while Zul gestured his own squad to follow him.
Upon reaching the base of the rear stairs, Zul turned his attention to the defending Giree, who wore black bodywear. It seemed that some of them were firing sniper rifles from behind the platform’s barricaded rails, while three had deployed tripods. The guns mounted atop them were adorned with three backwards curves, and fired rapidly to suppress the shuttle-bound Ionax. One of the sniper Giree turned, and Zul noticed… him (?) wearing an optical visor that glowed a malevolent red.
“They’re coming up behind!” The sniper called in the Giree common language, dashing for the rear rails as his companions (all adorned with the same headwear) turned around to look. However, before the pirates could engage the new threat, the other squad emerged from the right. With the deafening sound of Nova Rifles, the Giree collapsed, splattering blue hemolymph onto the metallic platform. The other sergeant rushed up to the front of the platform, gesturing toward the stationary Ionax to come out.
A Giree surveillance operator turned around. “Sir, the Ionax squads in the hangar just took out the forces stationed there.”
The leader in the room folded his arms. “Figures,” he scoffed. “The main shaft is pretty well-guarded, though. Those freaks shouldn’t make it much further.”
The band of Ionax continued down a corridor, following the sounds of a fire fight. They emerged to find the remaining squads far off to the right, using large crates as cover from another group of defenders. The base’s second line of defense was not unlike the first, but more numerous, and occupied what appeared to be repurposed excavation scaffolds.
“Squad, engage!” The other sergeant ordered, and led his squad to station themselves behind some more crates in a bid to even the odds. The shuttle-entrenched squads from earlier followed suit. Meanwhile, Zul noticed another corridor to the left.
“This way,” Zul said to his squad, and hurried through. If his hunch was correct, the new passage would lead to the scaffolds. Sure enough, he discovered a stairwell hosting a spiral staircase. “Split up and attack from behind,” Zul ordered as he dashed up the stairs. He went through the second floor’s door, and came across two emplaced tripods; one was occupied, while the other’s occupant had been gunned down.
Zul holstered his Nova Rifle, and crept up to the unaware Giree. He withdrew his Plasma Sword and activated it, its hiss of superheated air drowned out by the shootout’s deafening racket. The blade shimmered an ominous green as Zul crept forward. He gripped the pirate’s shoulder and drove the sword into his back, netting a strained gurgle of surprise. Zul drew the blade as the body fell limp, steam billowing from the cauterized wounds. At the same time, another pirate fell from above and slammed the ground; no doubt the rest of Zul’s squad were finishing off the rest of the first scaffolds’ occupants. Zul deactivated and sheathed his Plasma Sword, his vision set on the second set of scaffolding across the shaft. He re-equipped his Nova Rifle to help see the fire fight to its end.
“The main shaft’s defending forces have been wiped out, sir,” the operator said nervously.
The leader nodded grimly. If the Ionax found out what they’d been up to…
The Ionax squads regrouped in the center of the main shaft. Despite their fighting through two sets of defending pirates, the location of the base’s command center - where the stolen data would likely be held - was no less clear. After some deliberation, the sergeants agreed to spread out to find it.
Zul went down the main shaft with his squad, eventually reaching an alcove with a door in it. “Brace for entry,” Zul ordered, wary of an ambush. He walked up to the door itself as his squad positioned around it. He withdrew and activated his Plasma Sword and sliced the door’s hinges, then kicked it down.
Zul’s head was grazed by an orange discharge, and he immediately ducked. He heard the chorus of energy weapons fire from the back of the new room. He warily crouch-walked forward, noticing an array of terminals ahead for him to use as cover. His squad followed suit, and what was no doubt the command center became the scene of the mission’s third firefight.
As his squad fired over the terminals, Zul noticed a Giree pirate different from the rest, with thicker, shell-like chest and back armor, with two protrusions extending from his shoulders. He watched him flee down a hallway to the right, narrowly avoiding a Nova Rifle’s fire. Cowardly mollusk, Zul thought as he sprung from his cover to pursue the pirate.
The passage was dark, lit only by the synthetic glow of Zul’s sword. To unaided eyes, navigation would be impossible, but Zul could see the tunnel’s grated sides as he charged through. Eventually, he reached an intersection, with several other intersections ahead.
Zul slowed his pace as he entered the labyrinth. Immediately, his left side was pierced by an energy shot. He turned and barreled down the hallway, but the pirate had evaded.
Zul briefly paused to decipher the pirate’s hit-and-run strategy, then rapidly looked around for a solution. He noticed coolant return pipes adorning the walls, just beneath the grating. With a slash of his blade, the pipes ruptured, and out spewed an extremely hot liquid that would scald his organic adversary.
Another shot narrowly missed Zul’s head. He turned and ran through the searing fountain, rupturing more pipes to deny the pirate freedom of movement. At the end of the hallway, Zul spun around, ran, and turned to enter the other side of the hallway. He slashed at the opposing wall once, then walked back to face the pirate head-on. The pirate raised his sniper rifle, and Zul darted forward to evade. He swung his Plasma Sword to finish off the pirate, severing his long neck from the rest of his body. The body stumbled backwards for a moment, attempting to right itself, then fell forwards.
Zul deactivated his Plasma Sword, then holstered it. His hands freed, he seized the severed head in his left hand, and dragged the rest of the body back with his right.
Zul’s defeat of the commanding pirate allowed the rest of the mission to pass swiftly. The tactical value of the confirmed death of the pirates’ leader paled in comparison to access to his biometrics; in conjunction with mission-specific decryption technology, it provided the squads with unlimited access to the base’s data logs. The logs were transmitted to the Ionax capital city-ship, Alox, with little effort. From there, it was just a matter of heading back to Axol for debriefing. The squads would meet the routine Voxxel of their wounded, and extraction of their recovered fallen for meltdown.
It was revealed that the pirate clan led by Liryor, as he was now known, had stolen files pertaining to the properties and uses of Positium, as well as to Ionax anatomy. This, on its own, proved unsettling to the central Ionax administration; the anatomical records, for instance, would be dangerous in the hands of rebel Ionax with ambitions of creating a sustainable rogue Ionax state. However, then came the matter of who the pirates had been selling this data to…
“Sir… Liryor has been terminated.”
The leader hung his head, resigned. The fact that the pirates would eventually be destroyed by vengeful Ionax forces was of no particular surprise to him, but his own superiors’ willingness to cooperate with pirates – ex-citizens of the Directorate, at that – was. Now their “research project” was exposed to the very alien forces the data was stolen from.
He could only guess what would happen next. No doubt the upper echelons of the Directorate Intelligence Network, fearing the Chief Administrator’s wrath, would search for a scapegoat. Even the leader in the room could be the one to face the consequences of his superiors’ negligence.
However, the bureaucratic nightmare was only the beginning; the Directorate, in a matter of hours, would find itself in an alien power’s contempt. To the leader’s knowledge, this alien power was no more open to reasoning with foreign influences than the Directorate. Retaliation to the extent of war was not out of the question.
The Directorate Intelligence Network could only wait.
Outcome: Beginning of tensions between the Ionax and the Sovereign Biktom Directorate Wiki Link: HereEdit: Retconned date to converge well with Ionax history.
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Post by mitobox on Nov 13, 2017 4:42:55 GMT
Event: Riot on Olovom Date: 63 ASE Description: For a time, the Directorate peripheral world of Olovom was ravaged by a rapidly-spreading pathogen known simply as the Olovom Strain. A quarantine was imposed on the entire planet, with the planet itself declared to be under Biktom's direct control. However, the Directorate was more interested in containing the outbreak than treating the sick, inevitably leading to conflict on the streets between the populace and local enforcers. The chaos in general created opportunities for smugglers to offer anything from medical supplies to ways off the planet. Story TextHulgor, a trooper within Olovom Law Enforcement, stared into the rioting masses before him through his white helmet's visor, its glow as visceral a blue as Giree hemolymph. He kept a tight grip on his riot shield with his left hand, and clutched his stun baton in his right.
The new disease - the Olovom Strain, they'd called it - had raged for about half a year, and the civilian population had grown bold and restless. Of course, Hulgor believed, this was only the mask coming off - having once been a civilian himself, he could vouch that the average Directorate citizen was little more than a crazed, desperate animal. This view had never been stronger than it was now, with the enraged horde in front of him, beating against his shield and letting loose a chorus of vitriolic chants and profanities.
Of course, for the mask to come off in a place like the Directorate, there had to be a reason - his squad sergeant, Glovank, had briefed them that an emissary from the High Council itself had come to speak with local authorities. Speculation ignited among the common folk that there was an ulterior motive. Specifically, that the shuttle the envoy would arrive in was also loaded with a cure to the Olovom Strain, meant only for the authorities to use. Needless to say, even without proof on the matter, many Giree decided to come and demand this cure be distributed, or even seize it by force. Held at bay by the Olovom Law Enforcement squads (I mean, seriously, what did they expect? Hulgor had asked, to no one in particular), protesters and would-be looters alike snowballed into a mob.
One of the rioters grabbed ahold of Hulgor's shield, and earned a blow to the head for his troubles. Another snatched at the baton's head, only to recoil in pain at its high voltage. The crowd redoubled its efforts, forcing Hulgor and his peers to bash forward with their shields in order to maintain ranks. Even so, it looked as if the horde would break through at any moment.
Suddenly, the mob began to back away. The rioters in front of Hulgor diverted their gaze to to something above and behind him. As for Hulgor himself, he didn't need the crowd to quiet down in order to notice the ground's rhythmic tremors. Evidently, Olovom Law Enforcement had seen fit to escalate their response; the tremors were the footfalls of Discouragement Units.
In Hulgor's mind, the rioters had every reason to falter. Discouragement Units are towering machines designed with brutally effective crowd control in mind. Already, the air was filled with a shrill metallic sound, and some of the rioters, well aware of what would happen next, shoved their way through the crowd in a bid to escape. In seconds, however, the mechanical whines ended, replaced with the sight of small metallic canisters arching overhead, into the mob. A similar shrilling returned, this time organic in origin, as a sickly yellow mist rose.
A key thing to consider is the Giree's biological similarity to mollusks. For species like humans who needed to evolve thick, impervious skin, a careful response to the situation would leave them with irritated eyes at worst. However, to the rioting Giree, exposure to the gas was nothing short of excruciating. This was not the case for Hulgor and his fellow enforcers, thanks to air filters built into their helmets.
In a matter of minutes, the mob had retreated entirely. All that remained were faint trails of the yellow gas, and the cold metal canisters that had contained it. With the rioting over, Hulgor looked behind him. The first things he noticed were the gleaming Discouragement Units, the launchers on their right sides still primed for another barrage of canisters. Each main structure was shaped like a torso, with a blue visor-like targeting screen located along the "chest,' and supported by a pair of digitigrade legs.
The second thing Hulgor noticed was Sergeant Glovank - set apart from the troopers by his back armor, with shoulder protrusions - speaking with a Giree wearing a black trenchcoat and peaked cap, clearly a Directorate Intelligence Network agent. "Marvelous, aren't they?" The agent said, gesturing toward the Discouragement Units. "And piloted remotely. I don't doubt we'll have fully autonomous Units rolled out within the next decade." He cleared his throat. "So, Sergeant, I have it on good authority that Olovom Law Enforcement is experienced with ensuring civilian adherence to lawful commerce."
Glovank nodded. "We've ended several black market rings during our time of operation, sir. I served in a sting on one myself."
"Good, good," the agent said, nodding in turn. "Then I suppose your men are capable of doing to same to smugglers? We've received reports of smuggler activity on Olovom, apparently taking advantage of the recent epidemic. They've acted well outside of Directorate-sanctioned boundaries, and I would hate to see Olovom Law Enforcement fall short of stopping yet another facet of this humanitarian crisis."
"Of course not, sir," Glovank said.
"Excellent," said the agent, who patted Glovank on the shoulder. "Expect your superiors to brief you on these smugglers within the next few days." With this, the agent turned around and walked away. Wiki Link: Here(Thought I'd make something to capture the Directorate's authoritarian themes, as well as the cynicism of the Giree in general. Also, walkers.)
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Post by StealthStyleL on Nov 15, 2017 12:28:32 GMT
These events are OK to be added to the wiki, so add them onto the existing pages.
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TheGraveKnight
Spacefaring
The Motivational Army is watching
Posts: 1,170
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Post by TheGraveKnight on Nov 25, 2017 16:52:50 GMT
Remake of Corvos's Desertion
(Present year 72 ASE)
Sitting up in bed, Corvos was lost in thought. He could still remember the day clearly. The day his whole life changed, for better or worse he didn't know at the time but it was the day he became known as a rebel to his own people.
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(Flashback to the year 66 ASE)
The battle was a mess of blood, guts, metal and wires. Corvos, soldier of the Xexel Military, was helping a fellow soldier limp away from a battle with the Iron Battalion. The soldier had been shot through the joint in their right leg, rendering it useless. Never one to let a comrade-in-arms fall, Corvos continued to help the soldier limp along until suddenly they heard the distinct sound of a Nova Cannon being fired. Corvos only had enough time to shove the soldier further ahead when the electrically-charged blast slammed into Corvos, tearing off his right arm and shoulder. Realizing the battle was a lost cause, Corvos used his remaining arm to help the soldier up and the two battered soldiers managed to make their way to the extraction point.
On the way back to Xexel Corvos couldn't help but reminiscence on the battle. Only about 1,000 of them survived and even then their enemy had a distinct advantage; variety. The problem with them all being Ionax is that functionally they were all pretty much the same, whereas the Iron Battalion had species of all kinds to fit certain military niches. Whoever ruled the Iron Battalion evidently knew how to take advantage of species biology. As he was about to ponder more, Corvos winced as his pain receptors decided to remind him that he was missing an arm. But even the worst injury paled in comparison to what awaited Corvos when they docked back at Xexel.
When they arrived at Xexel, Corvos was surprised to learn he was to meet with the Official immediately. Still clutching at the area where his entire arm had been blown off, he followed the escorts to the Official's building. After what seemed like hours of walking he finally arrived at the Official's courtroom where he saw Official Ridus standing above him on a balcony. The escorts took their places as guards as Ridus spoke, her voice resonant "Soldier Corvos of the Xexel Military, I am aware of the events that happened on Zarron and aware of the many lives you saved." Corvos had a brief inward smile until he heard her continue "However, I can evidently see the severe damage inflicted on you during the battle. Our sources are limited and we cannot afford to repair you. As such I hereby order you to submit yourself to the Meltdown Protocol.". Now Corvos was afraid, something he had legitimately never felt before. Despite his loyalty to the empire, Corvos had a strong will to live and immediately started to try and reason "Wait a minute! Isn't there some sort of other solution we can think of?! We're losing several Ionax already, killing others won't solve the problem!". Ridus simply replied with "I am sorry that you will not comply. Guards, seize him.".
Before any of the guards could react Corvos barged right through two of them guarding the exit and began running. He wanted to live, and to do that he had only one option; flee the empire. He continued to race through the city-ship, dodging guards sent after him and the occasional citizen that got in the way. He continued to run until he got the docking bay (taking a bullet in the foot in the process which tore his plating up), proceeding to worriedly look around for any means to escape. His worry lessened when he saw a small combat ship docked and, while he felt guilty that he would have to steal it, made his way inside and began the startup procedure. By the time the guards caught up Corvos hit the launch button and blasted off into the vast unknown.
1 week later
For almost 1 week in Human time Corvos had been wandering through space desperate to escape any possible tracking by the Ionax Empire. Thankfully he ha finally found a destination that was far away from possible Ionax Empire influence, a IPC (Interstellar Peace Coalition) space station that wouldn't be discriminant of an Ionax passing through. Unfortunately, 1 week without any sort of repair had left Corvos's Positium Core drained and he was on the verge of involuntarily powering down. Soon after he had docked the ship (a little sloppily considering he only had one arm to work with), Corvos tried to stumbled towards the bridge only to power down and collapse onto the floor of the bridge.
It seemed like only moments later when Corvos regained consciousness and he found himself lying on a table in a steel room. He let out a faint groan of pain and turned his head to try to get a look at his surroundings. The whole room was made out of some sort of steel which had a nice sheen to it, and he could see a few desks and computers set up. It was actually a bit messier than what he was used to, though not to an unbearable degree. Most notably he saw an electric generator (most likely of Human design) with a wire coming out of it. Tracing the wire's path, Corvos realized that the generator was actually plugged into his Positium Core. Evidently someone decided he was worth preserving. "Speaking of preserving" Corvos though, turning his head to look at the void of space where his arm used to be. Much to is surprise, he saw that set up to his shoulder was what seemed to be a base for a new arm. It was actually shaped much like his regular arm base, with it's length and three-fingered hand. Corvos then heard a muffled voice and turned towards the only door in the room. The door then opened and Corvos found himself staring into the eyes of a young Human woman, maybe around 23 years old, who looked at him in shock. For awhile there was a chilling silence until the Human woman broke the ice by asking "Y-you're...awake!?!"
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(Present year 72 ASE)
A few years ago, Corvos would've been ashamed to say that he was a rebel. But nowadays, he didn't care. He now lead his own life alongside his beloved, that same Human woman who Corvos had come to know as Caitlin Sheer. He himself now went by Corvos Sheer, their adopted son and daughter loved him as their dad and he loved them back. He knew now that isolation was not the answer, it lied in working and bonding with others.
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Post by mitobox on Feb 12, 2018 2:58:16 GMT
Event: Out from The HospitalI've decided to keep all stories pertaining to the Olovom Strain story arc on the same page. Story TextHinayk carefully navigated the chaotic Intensive Care Wing of the Hadakork Municipal Hospital, clutching an airtight bag of red liquid in her protective suit’s glove. Her colleagues were busy tending to Olovom Strain-inflicted patients, their eyes trained onto thin monitors that tracked their patients’ vitals. The air rung with a cacophony of equipment beeps, the sound of rushing water and air, and the ragged breathing of patients as they clung to life, all under the cold glow of fluorescent lamps.
The crisis was nothing like Hinayk had ever experienced before. True, she was knowledgeable in the medical field; her education had been subsidized as part of the Second Planetary Development Initiative - implemented to train more specialists in the outer colonies, rather than spread the existing ones thin. She was not without skill, either, with her proficiency displayed at Hadakork’s Sector 1 Clinic having earned her a place within the towering hospital near the city’s center.
It wasn’t just the combined scale and intensity of the outbreak that gave her pause, either. She reached her patient, identified as Thiro Gakoneid and diverted her attention to the monitor’s readings. They warned of his troubled breathing, a prominent system of the Strain; it clashed with the immune system most at the lungs and airways, leading to severe inflammation. Knowing this, Hinayk plugged the lip of the bag into a socket in her patient’s life support system. The seal breached, and the red liquid fizzed into a gas that flowed into the patient’s oxygen mask.
Yalg extract was instrumental to stabilizing the condition of patients. When exposed to air, its vapors quickly diffuse, and, when inhaled, calm inflammation in the lungs. Without this soothing of the airways, suffocation would be inevitable. Unfortunately, this reliance had a cost; the extract could only be synthesized in the inner worlds, as only there could aquaculture facilities caring for the sensitive Yalg alga feasibly be maintained.
With the planetary quarantine all but cutting off supply shipments, the hospital’s supply was expected to be depleted by year’s end. Even with their expertise, no one in the hospital could cure simple resource disparity. While the monitor declared the patient’s softened breathing rate, Hinayk knew he, along with the other patients, were living on borrowed time.
A beep emitted from the monitor as a message took up the display: “Patient scheduled for transfer.” Transfer? Hinayk thought, wondering what had led to this decision among hospital administration. She looked between her patient and the message in uncertainty, then resolved to keep her eye on his condition until the transfer came.
Eventually, she noticed two personnel approaching, clad in bright yellow hazard suits. One of them pulled out a transparent half-cylinder screen to cover the patient, while another approached Hinayk herself. “They said they wanted you to come along,” he said. Hinayk watched, puzzled, as the two rolled out the stretcher, then followed them down the cluttered aisle.
The door shut behind them at the exit. A hissing sounded as decontamination gas flooded the checkpoint shortly before the door on the other side slid open. The four proceeded into the floor’s central hall, bustling with Giree moving into and from elevator doors. In little time, Hinayk and the two transfer personnel claimed one, and the group descended to the base floor.
They rolled on, past crowded waiting benches and wall-mounted televisions. The screens were set to a news broadcast from Olovom Station, and its headlines spoke of unrest in the city. The footage of clinics and pharmacies being raided for medical supplies, of Olovom Law Enforcement’s blockades against the raging masses, and of the Directorate’s plans to expand the quarantine provided the anxious onlookers no respite from the ongoing catastrophe. A passing janitor stopped in disbelief at the latter update, and, outraged, slammed his fist onto his equipment cart.
Great doors slid open as the group entered the hospital’s transit bay. Parked at rail-stops stood boxy tram cars, white with red streaks, optimized to hold stretchers. Before them was, to Hinayk’s surprise, an Enforcement squad waiting around an entirely different car coated a gunmetal gray. “Must be them,” Hinayk heard a trooper mutter as she removed her suit’s breathing mask.
“Definitely them,” the trooper concluded offhand, no doubt noting the characteristics of Hinayk’s face; it tapered to the front, a distinguishing trait among female Giree, and ended in thinner tentacles as a result.
The squad backed off from the unusual car, offering the two personnel space to load the patient. Hinayk’s mind raced as she realized the implications of their presence; specifically, who Thiro Gakoneid was. She tensed.
“Good day.”
Hinayk jolted at the greeting and whipped around. Her vision beheld a Giree, and her recognition of his attire befitting a Directorate Intelligence Network agent made her blood run cold. Rather than Hinayk, the beady eye shaded by his cap was set on the gray tram car. “Truly a wonder, those things. Always set on their rails with purpose, no matter where in the Directorate you see them. And you can safely expect the smaller ones to contribute to the larger ones’ own purposes.”
He turned to look at Hinayk. “That man being loaded. Thiro Gakoneid, I believe?” Hinayk nodded stiffly. “I’ve been told he is an… interesting man,” the agent continued. “And I’d like to find out more about him. When he was under your care, did he ever say anything to you or your coworkers?”
Hinayk jogged her memory. “N-no,” she answered. “He was found delirious during a patient collection run. I received him this morning. He’s – he has been unconscious since.”
The agent stared at her for a moment, then nodded, satisfied. “Unfortunate, but, given his status, it was expected.” He patted her on her left shoulder, and she fought the urge to recoil. “Be sure to note the authorities on any unscrupulous behavior you may witness.”
The agent walked off to the tram station’s pedestrian exit. A rumbling ensued as the gray tram car pulled out of the facility, heading towards places Hinayk could not imagine.
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