Xeno Core

Honus turns out to be the name of both the system and the only planet around it. Planet Honus was colonized only forty standard years ago. The planet was chosen as a colony due to the unique flora native to the low gravity world.

Ruled by a consortium of merchant guilds specializing in botany, alchemy, farming, and medicinal herbs, there are many expansive farms spread widely across the generous temperate regions of Honus. The population is spread across the countryside with only one large city, Centra.

Native fauna never developed larger than a few ubits in height, with no traces of any cultural development among any of the local species. The complex tides caused by the planet's three moons regularly flood the tidal flats, enriching the soil and removing any overlarge growths of vegetation.

"Put us in a parking orbit around the planet, Mos. Gel, put together a team to take down to the colony. Bella's got the shuttle warmed up and ready for you."

A chorus of agreements follow and it doesn't take long getting everyone aboard the solitary craft in the small hangar. I watch from external sensors as Gelly's team enters the planet's exosphere, leaving a brilliant trail of superheated atmospheric gasses in their wake as they plumet ever closer to the surface.

"Marta, contact the planetary base, let them know our people are coming for a visit," orders Tollek off handedly. "Oh, and ask after some more recruits."

The young officer nods her head smartly and begins to carry out Tollek's commands. According to personnel files she's been with the ship for three standard years. Diplomatic Lead Marta Spere was raised on Honus but trained on Secondi and graduated in the top three percentile.

"Sure thing, Jim. Want me to brag about the pay and benefits or just smile and show 'em my legs?"

"As if you don't know when it's time to do which. I don't tell Tulson how to fix the engines and I won't tell you how to bring in warm bodies," Tollek says with a hearty chuckle.

"The locals down in Centra don't know what they're in for," quips another officer that joined the crew at the same time as Marta, Combat Surgeon Tonn Rojer, causing the others to laugh as well.

"You two were part of the same class, am I right?" He knows he is; any good commander must know his officers intimately. After all, these are the people he must trust to carry out his commands under crisis.

Tonn shakes his head before answering. "She actually joined a year behind me, if you'll believe it, sir," he says with a rueful grin.

"And still graduated at the same time as you, top of our class," chimes in Povrel, smiling like the grelld that ate your supper.

The way he's building comradery among his crew so effortlessly shows that our Ship-Father is very skilled and should be commanding something a bit more fitting of his abilities. Nothing in his service records indicates any past scandals, so perhaps I'm missing some key information. Tollek's light will surely be recognized in time. We can only hope to benefit from aiding him in his rise.

"We've got news from Operative Drop, sir. His team has made land fall. He says they're headed toward your package, sir, but it could be a couple days before delivery," gruffly intones the grizzled officer running the communications center. Coms Operative Bell is a heavyset man who has been with the Imperial Service for fifty-five standard years. Much of his file is behind high clearance security encryption.

"Excellent, Hestrun! Keep me informed on his progress. If everything goes smoothly I'll personally handle the darcy. Nobody needs to get dunked if we can avoid it."

I don't know what darcy is but context clues make me think he's talking about cheap booze. Not too surprising, really. The amount of stellar radiation getting through the shields and the hull make storing and fermenting alcohol extremely difficult. A daily regimen of potassium iodide and several other compounds taken with each meal provides protection to the crew, but microbes mutate wildly and in unexpected ways in this environment rich in stray energies.

"We're receiving a transmission from the Centra Base," states Marta.

"Put them on the main screen, please Marta. Maybe it'll be good news for once," jokes Tollek before straightening in his seat and donning the visage of command.

The largest screen lights up, showing a much older female of their kind, dressed in a more formal version of the uniform worn by the crew. Behind her aides and clerks bustle about quietly, making the gears of bureaucracy turn. She's seated at a carved stone desk with small planters inset along the base in which are growing vines with crystalline leaves. The vines wrap around the legs of the desk but don't reach above the flat surface. The only ornament, besides the ever-present stack of papers, on her desk is a wooden cube, each face carved with a scene of happy children, presumably her own or her descendants.

"Always a pleasure, Grand Matron. Your penka plants are looking well cared for," Tollek begins brightly. "Any chance of my getting a few seeds after the next bloom?"

"Stuff it, Jim. We both know you couldn't grow mold if I buried you in manure. Tell me why you're here and not out on patrol," the Grand Matron steamrolls over Tollek's attempt at niceties with a practiced lack of grace. Her wrinkled face softens as she sweeps her sharp gaze across the command deck of the Selberclaw. "Hi, baby! You're coming to dinner tonight, no excuses!"

"Yes, Gran," squeaks a voice almost unrecognizable as Hestrun Bell's. His normally gray face flushes to nearly black in his embarrassment. The rest of the crew carry on as though nothing had happened.

"The report from Secondus should have reached you well ahead of us, Grand Matron, but if you've been otherwise occupied I can sum it up for you." At a curt nod from the old matron he rushes ahead. "Obviously I didn't have all the information at the time, but we encountered an ambush on the route from Svetta system. No support was within range of us, so I made the safer choice and headed here. Secondi forces arrived two days after the Selberclaw left, and cleaned up. Pirates. Patron Wendrus stated his belief that they might be based on a rogue planet passing near Secondus, and has authorized me to request additional forces to help search for possible threats."

"Yes, I've read your initial report. One of your officers stated that your ship was taking hits while another reported all clear. Have you sorted this contradiction out yet, Ship-Father?"

"I believe so, yes. After reviewing the sensor data, our working theory is that the pirates seeded that volume of space with micro-electronics devices. Too small to register on active scans. We flew into them at below relativistic speeds, when they were designed to be most dangerous to crafts going FTL. We sent this theory to Wendrus and are still waiting on the results of his search."

"Very well. I'll be sending a ship up to get my gran-baby. Make sure he's on it when it leaves your hangar, Jim," she decrees before severing the connection.

The large screen goes black and all is left silent in the wake of an ancient force. Sensors indicate stellar activity is rapidly increasing, a storm is brewing.