Construction
of Phoenix had been going well. The
basement level was being expanded north to make room for more new
housing. Since Orion’s
bunker was too small to reach the
basement floor, a
mound of dirt still supporting the bottom,
the decision was made to make him a brand new home. It had
been unanimously agreed to have
the Director move into the Municipal
Center as he was the colony founder. The colonists moved Orion’s
belongings into one of the newly built apartments while Random and
his helpers dismantled the crude domicile. Orion initially refused,
not wanting to take a place while there were still unhoused
colonists, but everyone insisted.
Orion
felt a twinge of regret seeing the house he built destroyed
and felt awkward about having a bigger
place built for him. He didn’t feel like he was important enough to
get some big hoity-toity mansion
when everyone else was living in apartments. He expressed as much,
but Random wouldn’t hear of it.
Hive
needs a Queen, Random explained in
his dance language. Queen needs
home that inspires people. It’s a symbol. Makes
people feel secure that someone powerful is ruling them.
Orion
was about to correct Random when Apus spoke to him through their
mental connection. ‘He’s not misgendering you. Queen is a gender
neutral title for the ruling class in the Hiver language,’ Apus
assured him. ‘The translators can only do much when dealing with
interpretive dance.’
‘Good
to know,’ Orion thought back. Out loud he said, “I don’t want
to rule! I just want to build a place for all of you to live where
you can be safe and happy!”
Random
shook his butt in response,
That makes you good Queen.
Orion
gave up and went looking for Slate. He found the Grey on the surface
near the crater, repairing the bridge archway. Slate had gotten
skilled with the MUT, and was using scrap metal to fill the missing
slats and broken cables in the walkway.
“Whatcha
working on?” asked Orion.
Slate
looked up, “Hello Orion. Just trying to fix the path to the mining
rig. There’s a lot of supplies over there. Plus, if we keep
expanding we’re going to need more than the generators to keep the
lights on. That drill there runs on solar panels. If we can get the
crafting recipes, we can start making a solar farm to bring in more
power.”
“Just
you?” Orion asked, “Couldn’t you recruit some help?”
Slate
shrugged dismissively, “They have no reason to trust me, let alone
help me. I was their warden, the one keeping them imprisoned. I was
the enemy.”
“Surely
not everyone thinks that way,” suggested Orion. “This is a smart
bunch, they know you were just doing your job. You don’t strike me
as having been particularly cruel, either.”
Slate
stopped and stared at Orion, “Of course I wasn’t cruel! Our job
is to rehabilitate people back into society. What kind of monstrous
prison system would be cruel to the inmates?”
Orion
folded his arms and stared into the distance, “A corrupt one. I’ve
seen it happen. I’m glad things are better here.”
Slate
shook his head with bewilderment, “Things must be really bad beyond
the Gate.”
“They
are,” Orion agreed.
They
shared an uncomfortable silence and watched the courtyard down below.
Queebeax had upgraded the BioSuit replicators so there was a flurry
of activity below. Orion tried to recall their names, having welcomed
most of the new colonists personally.
Max
was training his Jrassk ward Ssteev and the new Terran cadet Wynn,
both of them taking turns shooting rifles at Todd. The Jrassk tagger
Pteryx was adding a mural on the side of the base, one featuring a
phoenix that looked like Apus. A younger man named Avin was checking
traps, the hawk headed Kreelux having asked Orion for tips on
becoming a warden.
“We’ll
make things better here,” Orion promised.
There
was a terrified squeal as a ratillac drove past them, fleeing from
the direction of the mining rig. Then another, and another. Both men
turned to see a tiny, furry
drag race barreling through them. Beyond them the sky was starting to
darken as roiling black clouds started to fill the horizon.
Slate
frowned, “About a week since the last one. How long was the one
before that?”
“Not
sure. I died during it, and it was gone when I respawned. But I can’t
be sure of the time in between.” Orion replied.
“Hmm,
Pewter, make a note of the time,” Slate ordered.
Pewter
appeared, “Time of storm recorded, Sir.”
Orion
asked, “You think there’s a pattern?”
“I
think we don’t know enough about this planet.” Slate picked his
way down the hill. “But
more than that I think we need to get these people safely indoors.”
Orion
turned to follow, “That we agree on.”
Orion
opened his HUD and pulled up the Colony Management window. He hit the
chat feature and started a video call with everyone on the Phoenix
channel. He could see HUDs pop up for Slate and the colonists below.
“This
is Director Starbeard. A sandstorm is coming. All personnel need to
get indoors immediately. This is not a drill, these storms are
deadly. I am speaking from experience. I repeat: All personnel needs
to get indoors Immediately.”
Orion
closed the window, “Apus, could you do a sweep of the perimeter.
Make sure there are no stragglers or people sneaking in a nap above
ground?”
Apus
poofed into existence on his shoulder. “Right away, Sir.” The
phoenix spread his wings and flew down the hill. He circled each
person, repeating the announcement before flying off to check the
hangars, the outhouse, and even the graveyard.
By
the time the two colony leaders reached the base, the courtyard was
clear. They stepped inside as the others were removing their suits,
which Slate moved to do also. Apus appeared on Orion’s shoulder
with a flash of digital flame.
“All
colonists are safe and accounted for,” the phoenix reported.
“Rad!”
Orion clapped his hands, “Good hustle everyone! We’ll have to
remain indoors until this passes. Last one kept going all night, so
take the rest of the day off.”
Orion
made the rounds to let everyone else know that the rest of the day
was a kind of impromptu holiday. People were laughing about the
precautions, joking about ‘how bad could it be?’ right up until
the first bolt of lightning crashed in the distance, loud
enough to be heard underground. When one
of the volunteer gardeners saw
sand whipping around through the greenhouse ceiling, a small crowd
gathered to watch.
Before
long the sandstorm was scouring the surface above, but the greenhouse
ceiling held, keeping the crops and people inside safe. That was
enough to convince everyone to stay inside. With nothing better to
do, the gathered citizens dispersed to take a well deserved rest.
Pretty soon everyone was calling it a
Sand Day, and went off to relax and wait out the storm.
Pyro
stopped Orion as he made
his rounds, the
blacksmith waving him into the shop.
There he presented a table covered with a cloth that obscured two
items. He flicked the cloth away with a flourish, revealing
a hammer and pick.
Sunflare
had been drastically changed but was immediately recognizable. The
battle sledge had been streamlined, smaller and rounded face instead
of a block of metal. The stairs on the back had been turned into a
two pronged claw. The handle was a long piece of blue wood. The LED
lights still created a fire pattern, but now it looked almost like a
living flame.
The
pick was a mattock, with a sharp pick
for breaking rock on one end, and a chisel for digging on the other.
The handle was made of polished blue wood capped with an Orgite knob
for adding mods. Near the bottom of both items was an engraving of
the constellation Orion.
Orion
brushed his hand across the logo and
gave Pyro a questioning look. “How did
you know?”
Pyro
shrugged nonchalantly.
“I wanted a logo that suited you, so I
looked up Orion in the CODEX. Apparently it’s a constellation from
Terra. Orion the Hunter, it seemed fitting.”
“These
are beautiful. Thank you!” Orion said as he added them to his
inventory.
“Stronger
too,” Pyro nodded, “You just keep an eye on their durability and
I can repair them when they get low.”
“I
definitely will,” he promised.
Orion
turned to leave and almost ran face first into Prof. Queebeax. The
goofy pigeon face grinned at him. “There you are! No time to waste,
you’re late for your appointment.” Queebeax turned to waddle to
his shoppe.
Confused,
Orion followed. “I didn’t make an appointment with you.”
“Of
course not!” Queebeax said cheerfully. “I made the appointment
for you. Much more efficient that way, don’tcha know?”
Inside
the Shoppe, there was no showmanship or razzle dazzle. The Pocket
Nuke was just on a table with the guard shotgun propped against it.
The shotgun looked like it had been modified,
with a new handle and an improved barrel setup. The Pocket Nuke
looked unchanged.
“I
gave your shotgun a bit more oomph. Should
do well in close combat.” Queebeax rooted through shelves as he
talked. “Really clear out the sinuses, hoo hoo hoo! Wasn’t able
to do much for the hand cannon, I’m afraid. Couldn't even download
the recipe. No recipe, no modifications.”
“That’s
disappointing,” said Orion. “So you weren’t able to upgrade it?
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
“Up-”
The prof stopped what he was doing and stared at Orion. “Upgrade?
Son, do you realize what you have there? That weapon is of Legendary
quality! Even if I could work on it there’d be nothing to improve.
If anything, it’s too dangerous!”
Orion
stepped back from it, “Dangerous how?”
Queebeax
walked over and tapped the battery casing, “There’s a flaw in the
power storage. If this gun fires for too long, the battery will go
critical and will create a giant explosion, destroying the Pocket
Nuke and anyone within range of the blast radius.”
Orion
watched the gun nervously, “How long does it need to fire before
going critical?”
“No
way to test it,” Queebeax replied.
“There does seem to be an early
warning system in place. If there's any flashing lights or warning
bells I’d immediately switch weapons.”
“Right.
I appreciate the help, Professor!” Orion tucked both guns into his
weapon wheel.
“You’re
quite welcome!” Queebeax beamed, “Oh!
There it is!
I knew I set it somewhere.”
The
Kreelux walked past Orion and brushed aside a sandwich and model
rattilac skeleton. Queebeax dislodged a
white box with a green cross on it, knocking
over a broom handle with copper parts lashed to it with wires. He
ignored the clatter and walked over to Orion.
“This
is why I brought you here. Have a seat and take off your peg leg,”
the Professor instructed. “Then just press the button in the
center.”
Orion sat on an uncluttered chair and stored mentally stored the
prosthetic in his inventory. Queebeax handed him the box and stepped
back. It looked like his repair kits, but his implants were working.
Not about to question the eccentric professor, Orion and tapped the
cross.
The
box literally exploded in his hand, turning into a flurry of tiny
white drones with little arms. They flew down to Orion’s stump and
started spinning around it in a flurry of green light. Holographic
green crosses bubbled up and Orion saw his leg repair itself. In less
than a minute an unmarred hoof was dangling at the end of a fully
regenerated leg. The drones dissipated in a twinkle of green light
and vanished.
“Oh
wow! I didn’t know they had healing packs in ga-“ Orion stopped
himself, “-in crafting menus.”
“Oh
I can’t make those, no, no,” the Prof corrected. “Not with my
trades, anyway. There were some emergency health kits in the med bay.
You know, we really need a dedicated healer.“
There
was a sparking noise. Both men looked down as the newly reformed leg
started to glitch out. The blue skin started to pixilate and flash
red, popping out of existence with a staticy sound. Eventually all
that was left was the strange stump once again.
Prof.
Queebeax lifted his goggles again and crouched down, examining the
leg. “No, no, no, no that’s not right,” he muttered. Standing
again the Professor flipped through some notebooks. “Possibly a
teleportation error? Something to do with the Gates? Or maybe we just
need a specialist…”
Orion
equipped his peg again and stood, “It is what it is. Thanks for
trying, Professor.”
Queebeax
glanced at the leg with a determined glint In his wild eyes. He
stroked his chin. “I’m
not done trying yet. No, not by a long shot. But for now, maybe I can
make some improvements on that leg.”
“It’s
a nice thought, but the
prosthetic vanishes every time I
respawn.” Orion shrugged, “My implant breaks too, but I’m able
to repair that at least.”
“Then
I’ll prepare spares!” Queebeax said with an exasperated sigh,
“You young people always refuse to ask for help. Not me, though.”
A
HUD notification popped up in front of Orion’s eyes.
[New
Mission Available!: What’s Up, Doc?
Prof.
Queebeax has requested that you repair the Med Bay. Doing so will
give you access to healing stations and curative items.
Reward:
250 Colony XP
+1
Colony Leader
Accept?
Y/N?]
Orion
was surprised. He’d had some offhanded requests but this was the
first official mission someone had given him. He accepted
immediately, it was a good idea and the reward was impressive.
“Good,”
Queebeax sniffed indignantly. He nodded at Orion’s prosthetic,
“I’ll keep working on that as well, hoo hoo.”
“I’m
not the priority Professor Queebeax.” Orion stood, “I’m a
survivor, remember. If you can think of any other missions to help
Phoenix grow, then hit me up.”
Orion
found himself fixing up the Med Bay. He tried to relax with some vids
on his HUD but he grew too restless. Something about having a
critical mission hanging over his head got his gamer blood pumping.
So he was following Apus’s instructions to make repairs step by
step.
Pink
headphones on and jamming out to a Punk playlist, Orion was bopping
and swaying along as he worked. The MUT did most of the work and he
only needed to pause for repair minigames. Which is why he didn’t
notice anyone walk up until they leaned
into the periphery of his vision.
It
was the guard captain who’d taken
potshots at him! His mouth was moving
but Orion didn’t hear the words over the music. Begrudgingly, he
pulled his headphones off and gave the
solider his full attention. The man
stood at
attention, his guard uniform pressed and immaculate. He wore a
chestnut colored bomber jacket with a
Galactic Navy patch on both biceps.
“Come
to finish me off, cowboy?” Orion’s disdain was palpable.
The
Terran cleared his throat. “I came by
to offer an official apology. The whole colony was under attack when
I threw myself in stasis and I was on high alert. But it was careless
and you got hurt as a result. I’m sorry.”
Orion
and Apus exchanged glances. They had a little internal discussion and
Orion crossed his arms and leaned back on the computer console he was
repairing.
“So,
why did it take you so long to apologize?” Orion pressed.
“Honestly?”
He
answered, “I’m intimidated by you.”
Orion
was genuinely surprised, dropping his arms. “By me?
Why?”
Counting
on his fingers he said, “One: You’re
seven feet tall and built like a battleship. Two: You shook off three
plasma blasts to the chest like it was nothing. Three: You’re
technically my boss. Four: You-“
Orion
threw his hands up in surrender, “Okay, okay, I get it! You had no
way of expecting someone who looks like me to be wandering through
the halls. You were just trying to protect your people. Our people. I
saw how you shouted ‘Get Down’ before taking the shot. Apology
accepted.”
Breathing
a sigh of relief he
snapped off a crisp salute, “Thank you, Sir! Captain Max
Thrustar reporting for duty.”
“All
right, none of that. I’m not planning on running this place like a
military base.” Orion chuckled, “I know how to operate a company
and that’s it. I’ll be depending on you for advice in defense.
You requested an armory and training room, right? Send me an official
mission and I’ll get on it as soon as the Med Bay is done.”
“Yes,
Director.” Max sent the missions prompt.
Orion’s
HUD flashed open with the two missions and he accepted both. Good
rewards on these too. More trained guards and better access to
weapons, on top of raising colony experience.
“It’s
Orion. I’m serious.” He
put on his most intimidating glower. “I
will court martial you, Thrustar.”
The
Captain relaxed, “Then, it’s just
Max to you. It will be good working with you, Orion.”
“Much
better.” Orion thought for a moment,
“You were
really that intimidated by me?”
Max
shrugged. “You are pretty scary.”
“I
am not,” protested Orion.
Mr.
Starbeard? An animal just entered the stables.
Neesya psychically projected to him.
“Excuse
me, it’s Neesya.” Orion tried to think back at the Astropod, Can
you show me on the Colony HUD?
A
chat invite notification popped up on his screen and he accepted it.
The scene that appeared was concerning. The stable was a large space
open to the outside by a covered ramp. In order to keep Phoenix’s
lower level safe, blast windows sealed the outside air off from the
rest of the colony. Animals could still still access the stables,
even during the storm. No one had thought to seal off the room.
Something
had gotten in. Two large, black
bodies stalked the stables,
dust swirling chaotically around them. The bigger animal reared up
and scratched at the window with huge clawed paws. Unable to make a
dent, it pressed its face against the glass and whined. A
black furred face with a metallic skull with four eyes snarled
against the window.
“MY
SON!” Orion shouted, startling Max. To Neesya he projected, Seal
the room, I’ll be right down. Can you expand the display window and
press it to the glass?
She
did so and his perspective changed. He saw the scared look in his
companion’s eyes and he cooed at him. Max’s mouth dropped open as
Orion’s voice became saccharine sweet.
“Hey
Major! You’re going to be okay. Daddy’s coming, just sit tight
and let the nice lady seal the stables.” Orion was already on the
move, ignoring Max who had fallen in line behind him. “You’re
scaring everyone. I’ll be right down to let you in and make you
some food. How does that sound?”
The
panicked cyworg whined but sat back. The shadowy partner lay down
next to him.
“Neesya
if you can hear me, close the stables
hatch and start decontamination. That’s my warden companion Major
Canis. He won’t hurt anyone.” Orion took
the stairs down two at a time. “But for everyone’s peace of mind,
keep the doors
locked till I get there. He’s probably hurt and scared from being
out in the sandstorm.”
Neesya
cut the feed, Yes,
Mr. Starbeard.
Max
kept up with Orion’s frantic pace with
ease. “That monster is your pet?”
“He’s
not a monster! Or my pet,” Orion protested.
“He’s my partner. There’s a
difference. I think. I haven’t really looked at the Packleader
skill tree.”
When
they finally arrived, the entire colony was surrounding the stabled
in a worried semicircle. The dust had settled and was slowly being
sucked out just as fresh air was being pumped in. Major watched the
crowd with a bored expression, yawning with a wide toothy maw. Major
had all the regal disinterest of an apex predator that knew nothing
here could threaten him. Slate was up against the window, talking
reassuringly at the cyworg, but was mostly being ignored. When he
spotted Orion, however, the shaggy beast started panting and wagging
his tail excitedly.
Orion
stepped up next to Slate and pressed his nose to the glass. “There’s
my good boy! There he is! Did you risk the storm to see Daddy? That
was very silly.”
There
were confused murmurs at the Org’s baby talk. Most of them had seen
how angry and violent the beast had been when it first arrived. And
now their equally large and scary Director
was talking to it like it was some newborn child.
Neesya
looked up from the stable monitor, The
stables are safe to enter.
Orion
spread his arms, “Open the gates!”
Several
people took a step back. The blast windows opened with a tiny hiss
and slid up into the ceiling. The only thing keeping the cyworg
inside was a three foot high wall of wood and a waist-high door. And
Orion threw that open wide and stepped inside.
“Son,
you’ve come home,” he said with a Godfather impression. “Come
to Papa.”
The
cyworg was suddenly up and charging. Everyone except Max, Slate and
the Menagerie fled screaming. The huge body of fur and metal collided
with Orion
and drove him to the ground. Much to everyone’s surprise, the
terrifying skull split into a canine grin, licking Orion’s face
with a bright blue tongue.
The beefy warden
was laughing and patting the thick neck.
“I
missed you too, buddy! You look like you’ve put a little weight
on.” Orion playfully pushed him away and rolled to his feet. “Now,
what was so important you risked the trip during a sandstorm?”
The
crowd started to filter back in as he walked toward the prone animal.
Everyone’s gaze followed Orion as he knelt by the furry body in the
center of the stable floor. It was clearly another cyworg, with cyber
limbs and a padded saddle rising from her back. Four pink eyes
watched the Org with a scared expression. Major clicked over and
nudged the nervous canine with his muzzle.
“Oooh,
Major! You sly dog,” chuckled Orion. “Is this your girlfriend?”
Major
gave an autotuned ‘wurf’ in response and urged the smaller cyworg
to their feet. She was smaller than Major, and very gravid, her
swollen belly giving her some difficulty getting to her feet.
Neesya
and Orion “Aww’d” at the same time, the Astropod approaching
the new animals without fear. Orion fawned over
the heavily pregnant
pupper, “Oh my god, she has puppies?”
After
some more encouragement, Major got her moving again. It was only when
she started to limp that her right front paw was shredded, the
cybernetic leg dripping blue blood and black oil.
“Oh.
My. God she’s injured!”
Orion roared, angry spittle flecking off tusks.
Behind
him Max nudged Slate and whispered, “Scary, right? It’s not just
me?”
“It’s
not just you, no,” Slate agreed grimly.
The
female cyworg flinched at the roar, and Major stepped in front of her
protectively, growling synthetically. Orion slowly stepped forward
and was surprised to see Neesya follow, moving
past him toward the dogs. Orion cooed
and spoke softly, and Neesya projected empathic waves of calmness to
everyone in her radius. Major’s mate calmed down enough to let the
large mollusk gently lift her, cradling her in a way that didn’t
put pressure on her belly.
Orion
gave Major an apologetic scratch behind the ears, “I’m sorry I
scared her, boy. Let’s go get Momma somewhere safe.”
Orion
started leading the way back towards the base. He flicked open his
Colony HUD and went to the missions screen. Pulling up ‘What’s
Up, Doc?’, he examined the window. Finding what he was looking for
he tapped the ‘Share Mission’ button before swiping it away. He
hustled toward the Med Bay to work on the repairs, mentally informing
Neesya of his plans.
Pyro
glanced at Professor
Queebex, coming to an unspoken agreement. They both pulled up their
own HUDs and accepted the mission.
A third window clipped through the Kreelux’s jetpack as Random
joined the mission from inside his usual hiding spot. The three
turned to head towards the Med bay.
Slate
watched the small procession pass and sighed, “Never
a dull moment,” Slate opened his
HUD and accepted the mission, following at a more leisurely pace.
