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Several days have passed since Liberation Night, an event that will be remembered forever on Kahlannal as the day cruel invaders from the Plane of Fire were defeated with the help of allies from beyond Mataras. With the occupiers dead, imprisoned, or having fled, the anassanois turn to rebuilding their battle-damaged city. The natives' immense gratitude for your leading the strike team on the Spire has taken the form of assistance in the form of supplies, UPBs, and technical assistance with the Sun Diver. Indeed, and much to the relief of all concerned, the anassanois' deep understanding of solar forces from their centuries of managing the bubble-city's solar shields allows them to better integrate the ship's solar inverter to solve its siccatite degradation weakness! No longer will the crew of the experimental starship know that their days are numbered within the sun as the hull slowly crumbles away. In addition, with control of the psychic resonator on the Spire wrested back from the hands of the occupiers, the anassanois have again started sending messages to those with psychic sensitivity in distant places--and this time, they hope a strengthened signal will allow their warning messages about the risk of invasion to be understood.
And in just a few hours, a return message from the Burning Archipelago will be received . . .
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"TO DEAD TYRANTS!" Amhesha says, smiling brightly and wildly, drinking an alcoholic beverage known to be drunk primarily by Besmarans and protean cultists, a big bright smile on her face, and quite a heavy blush from drinking so hard, but not to the point it affects her linguistic integrity... just everything else that can get sloshed by alcohol. Xylian would probably know she's been working on a program for her exocortex to do exactly that.
Ever since the Dwarf bought the armor... Amhesha's religious fervor seems to have hit a fever pitch, though. Notes on something like 20 personal constructed languages are strewn all about her, as well as some popular ones throughout the galaxy, as well as pages upon pages of Protean poetry. The alcohol, however, is a fairly recent addition. Prayers, song, and lectures to anyone willing to discuss linguistics or chaos have filled her days as she's been feeling like she has to atone for working with a slaver.
These poems are primarily insults at lawful deities and organizations, ESPECIALLY the Hellknights, and to a lesser extent AbadarCorp.
For the first time in what seems like forever, though really it’s only been several days, you hear the distinctive chiming sound of your comms indicating a message from your ship!
“Howdy folks!” says Hopalong, the Sun Diver’s AI. “I reckon we ain’t yarned in a squox’s age! I got me a recorded transmission on private relay--all the way from the Burning Archipelago! I'll patch it through.”
On the tiny screens on your personal comm devices, you see an image of Lurian “Lu” Straza--the inventor and first pilot of the Sun Diver! She looks glum, however
“I hope this reaches you,” she says. “I hope you’re still out there somewhere. I’ve used the tech here and my knowledge of the Sun Diver to boost this transmission, and it’ll probably be my last. They say the efreet are close now.”
Lu manipulates her controls, and an image from the Burning Archipelago’s long-range sensor comes up, depicting dozens of brassy starships emerging from the sun, rising out of plasma that seems to ripple off their raised shields.
“We don’t know how many,” Taeress continues. “The Archipelago Senate has called for every ship to must in defense. We have a few warships, especially from the Sarenites, but the rest are mostly yachts and freighters. I’ve heard the Pact is mustering too, but who knows how long it’ll take them to get here. We won’t be much of a match. They’ve sounded a general evacuation, but most of us aren’t leaving. We’re going to a secure shelter.”
A technician touches her shoulder, and Lu finishes: “We have to go now, or we won’t go at all. If you’re still alive somewhere in the sun, don’t come back--there’s nothing you can do. Stay safe and out of their reach. Good luck.”
The transmission cuts off just as Nib wanders in, a half-eaten snack in one hand; with no idea what’s going on, she cheerfully asks: “What’s up team?”
Amhesha doesn't decide to down any more drinks, knowing something is upcoming. "Ugh... cerulean void... I'm going to hate the impending hangover. We... we are not taking this lying down, right? "
"Don't know what exactly we can do against an armada, but I'm sure we're going to end up doing something. We sure ain't doing nothing."
Zharis takes in the news with a mounting sense of horror, but she controls her expression, thanks Hop, and then smiles at Nib.
Hey emergency meeting. Can you get everyone?
Getting everyone that they brought along gathered together, along with any of their allies that are around, Zharis fills them in on the message from Lu, and then says
On our ship we have a portable window connected to the DCI. We might be able to communicate with them further through that... but only visually. Before we go over there though, can anyone think of what we can do to help?
She hopes their allies will offer help, or that Taeress and Nib have come up with some new technology that might help, but ideas are all she has. Fighting one ship they could maybe do, but all of those, and so far away... her expression remains positive, but internally she is very concerned. All her new fans, about to be snuffed out? This can't be happening.
Nib nods, and soon an emergency meeting of anassanoi leaders and the DCI team are assembled.
Upon hearing Zharis' explanation, Nib looks serious. "Hey Zhyffor, you were just telling me earlier--the anassanoi psychically interrogated some of the captured occupiers. We know where the location of the invasion’s headquarters is! It’s called the Crucible, and somehow their crazy General Khaim moved Far Portal to it!"
Zhyffor telepathically nods, a feeling of gentle affirmation.
Nib continues. "We gotta take the Sun Diver to this efreeti general’s base and figure out a way to wreck his plans. I mean, if he finds out his base is under attack and his supply line is threatened, maybe he’ll call off the attack. He’ll have to, right? Right?”
Taeress puts a calming hand on Nib's forearm. "Sweetie, they'd be spotted and shot down the moment they approached. This 'Crucible' isn't going to be left unguarded."
Feelings of uncertainty accompany Zhyffor's mental response: There . . . could . . . be a way. Before the assault on the Spire, our technicians were working on a prototype device called an antipathy transponder for installation on our Protector Chariots. In theory, it can mask the presence of a vehicle from electronic scans by swaying the minds of sensor operators.
Okay, gang. That sounds like hope right there. We have something we can do to make a difference, and theoretically through the portable window we can reassure the DCI, and they can help spread the word. Maybe they can hold out until we solve this problem. Let's get on it. We need to find out how to use the prototype transponder, get it installed in the Sun Diver, and go take out their headquarters. This cannot be harder than saving a whole planet, which we have already done. We've got this!
Internally, of course, she knew that it could definitely be harder, and that they could be going to their deaths... but while there was even a sliver of hope that they could stop this invasion... what other choice was there? Plus, it would look REALLY good on camera.
Zharis had a few more edits to do on her filming of their last adventure. She would do those tonight before they left, and get it sent off... hopefully to a world still intact and ready for some quality, true-life entertainment. The rush of pure authenticity was wild. Hero on-screen AND hero in real life. Doesn't get any better than that.
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Zhyffor's telepathic broadcast is accompanied by a sense of firm resolution. We will begin work on installing the antipathy transponder immediately. We can also upgrade your conventional communication device so you can always reach Kahlannal on a secure channel.
Ilor, the DCI's security specialist, flips his stylish brimmed hat so it lands on his head at a rakish angle. "I think any team that lands on The Crucible is going to need an extra hand, and there's no point in me staying behind like there was during the assault on the Spire. Count me in."
"Me too," says Vessu. "Those efreet turned me into a traitor and still killed my brother. Fixer and I have some payback in mind," he says, patting his drone.
"Here we go!" says Nib, hopping into the air with excitement.
Taeress looks torn and bites the inside of her mouth before replying. "Yes, okay, yes. This isn't just about research or exploration anymore. If the Burning Archipelago is at risk, that means our homes, friends, and livelihoods are under attack. We'll go. As the secondary infiltration or attack team," she says with a pointed look at Nib. "I guess this means stasis pods again," she says.
Yes, stasis pods, sorry. Not everyone can fit on the ship otherwise, but we'll definitely wake you up for the excitement.
Zharis smiles, trying to stay light-hearted, but she adds
Thank you. You don't have to risk your lives with us. You could choose to stay here and stay safe, but I won't try to talk you out of it. I honor your commitment to helping your families and friends. Let's do this. Finish up anything you have going on. We'll leave first thing in the morning, if the installation can be finished by then.
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"Headed for the Crucible? Sad we can only leave in the morning, blargh, but that makes a lot of sense." Amhesha says.
The anassanois snap into action, hurrying to install equipment in the Sun Runner--a secure comm back to Kahlannal, the antipathy transponder, and an upgrade to the ship's solar inverter so there's no longer any siccatite degradation! If Lu lives long enough to see her ship again, she'll be amazed by how much it's changed.
Meanwhile, the DCI team quickly assemble their gear and say their farewells to the aliens they've come to think of fondly over the past several weeks. Taeress promises them that Kahlannal won't be forgotten, and that the DCI will help anassanoi representatives someday step foot outside the interior of the sun to become part of the Pact Worlds community.
"It may only be morning, but at least the sun will already be high in the sky!"
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Zharis will send off the newly edited adventure to her agent and to her father so they can get things going. If she dies on this one, at least her fans will get one last look.
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Wonders are worked in the span of several hours, as technology is installed, the DCI team are put in stasis, and the Near Space expedition team attends to their stations in the Sun Diver. Hop helps steady the ship as it lifts off from Kahlannal. There wasn't time for extended goodbyes, but an overwhelming surge of gratitude and optimism accompanied by telepathic images of your heroic exploits on the planet show just how grateful the anassanois are for everything you've done for them.
"Alright y'all, nav-data to The Crucible locked in," says Hop. "At a steady trot, I reckon a good 12 hours and we'll see it glintin' on the horizon."
But barely an hour into the journey, with nothing visible this deep into the sun but churning solar plasma, a comms message sent on an emergency distress channel fills the small ship's bridge.
A masculine voices says "Unknown vessel, my name is Rikard Girsten. Listen, I know this is impossible to believe, but I’m, uh, alive out here thanks to a new friend. Would you consider picking me up?”
Zharis responds
Hi Rikard, we'll certainly consider it, but we need an exact location. Is it safe where you are to open a hatch? Also, you should know that we are flying into mortal danger, so depending on your situation, where you are might be safer? Maybe you should tell us a little bit more?
"Uh, yeah--it's a little hard to explain. My wife, Hazl, and I were prisoners aboard an efreeti vessel called the Eye of Feronia. They were taking us to a base for interrogation, but a strange entity that was able to board the vessel from inside the sun attacked them. Apparently, someone drew the creature into the section of the ship I was on--the commissar’s quarters and brig. Then, somehow, they ejected that section, which promptly started to burn up. Lucky for me, Uzmat was nearby.”
“Greetings," says a bassy voice that has an underlying roar like a large fire. “I am Uzmat. Although I could carry Rikard to safety, I believe he would be far safer and more comfortable inside your vessel. If you allow me into your airlock, I can deposit Rikard within and allow him to move inside your vessel. I shall then depart so you can seal your airlock behind me.”
Amhesha attempts to scan for life forms with the minor help of her exocortex.
Despite the seeming ridiculousness of the possibility, Amhesha's scans do indeed pick up life signs! Two figures, one human, one much larger and of an unknown species, and somehow they're keeping pace with the Sun Runner despite not having any obvious means of propulsion!
Tulgram glances at Amhesha, clearly enjoying the show she's put on. Obviously, this doesn't bother him at all, but rather amuses him-especially the glances she casts at his armor.
The Crucible? It sounds very homey. There's something native about it. Tulgram is grinning. Our mission, colleagues, has long gone beyond the limits of scientific work and a reasonable method of understanding the universe. Well. And that's nice! Time to have some fun. Who knows what treasures are waiting for us there?
The duergar says these words, clad in a new heavy armor that fits perfectly to his corpulent but broad-shouldered figure. There is something particularly dark about the spikes and sharp corners, and it seems that some runes were engraved on the chest, probably vile, but someone tried to carefully remove them with the help of grinding.
No chance, Vessu. Over my dead body. It wasn't that efreeti who made you a traitor, but your own meanness and cowardice. Tulgram pokes him in the chest with his finger. I'm not going to threaten you, man, it's not a threat, it's a direct promise. If you try to fly with us, I'll kill you with my own hands. Tulgram's face is very calm, and his voice sounds exactly as it would if he were going to undergo surgery and was informing the patient about planned actions and possible risks.
Tulgram's eyes light up. He leans over to the microphone in the control room and presses a button. Uzmat! If it is safe for you and for our ship, we would be happy to invite you to visit us! Releasing the button, he tells you, a new form of life!. The xenobiologist's eyes shine with an unhealthy gleam. He didn't seem to pay any attention to any "Rikard".
At Tulgram's direction, Hop opens the outer airlock door. A minute later, an indicator shows it's been closed and that the inner airlock door is in the process of cycling. The bassy voice continues: "I have deposited Rikard. May I ask why you are travelling so deep within this star?"
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We are trying to save our people. If you have time, I'll tell you the story.
Zharis proceeds to tell the basic facts, and answer any questions if they have time to get into more detail... the more allies they can get out here the better, and ones that can apparently just swim through the sun would be an enormous help.
She also politely asks him about himself and his people.
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theo uses the available sensors to try and check out this Uzmat and figure out what sort of being it is.
That's not how first contact works, my friends. With that, Tulgram heads for the airlock.
After listening to Zharis' explanation, Uzmat's brassy voice responds: "Dire news indeed! For lo, I am friend to the Sarenites of the Archipelago. I will speak to my fellow onkushus and we will render what aid we can. Ah, I see this one knows my kind," Uzmat says, indicating the duergar staring at him intently through the airlock viewing port.
Thank you for your help, Uzmat. Our meeting was fortuitous. May your assistance be effective and timely, as I hope ours will be as well.
She welcomes Rikard into the ship, showing him into the entertainment area and showing him how to work the player so he can watch As the Black Hole Turns, or you know, anything else...
Rikard turns out to be a middle-aged man who is simultaneously relieved to have been rescued and still anxious. "I'm sure your show is good and all . . ." he says to Zharis. "But I can't concentrate on entertainment. My wife, Hazl, was aboard the efreeti Eye of Feronia with me when it was attacked. We were separated, and the section I was on was ejected when it started burning. She might still be aboard, or . . ."
I'm sorry to hear that. If we find that ship during our journey, we'll see if we can find out if she is still alive. Were you traveling someplace in particular?
"I don't know where the ship was headed--to a base where we could be interrogated, I guess. Hazl and I are PIs. We operate out of Stellacuna, and we were investigating some disappearances in Corona. We’d uncovered some coded messages an efreeti trading consortium called the Malikah Group was sending out of the city into the sun. Some thugs--ifrit and suli mercs, I’m guessing--jumped us. After holding us for a while, they shipped us out on the Eye of Feronia. And then some days later, the ship came under attack by a strange entity that was able to board and attack from within the sun."
Do you know anything else about this entity or how they came to be fighting the efreeti? Or was it chance and they attack anything that comes by?
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Amhesha has been... off-put for quite a while, visibly gripping her gun, but then sighs dejectedly. "I apologize if I seem quite... fidgety and am not particularly at ease. After what we've been through, fighting all those tyrannical natives of the Plane of Fire, I'm tired of dealing with outsiders. The only ones I'd probably take are probably servants of the protean lord I worship thrown straight at me from the Maelstrom.
Sorry if I'm not like Zharis here, I've never been one for diplomacy -- I'm just a sniper, mechanic, and xenolinguist -- and am even less so after the kind of hellfire we've been facing up until now. I hope you don't hold this on the actually diplomatic one."
Doesn't help I'm working with a damn slaver.
"Dire news indeed! For lo, I am friend to the Sarenites of the Archipelago. I will speak to my fellow onkushus and we will render what aid we can. Ah, I see this one knows my kind," Uzmat says, indicating the duergar staring at him intently through the airlock viewing port.
Good. We will welcome any allies in the upcoming battle. Tulgram smiles gap-toothed, trying to show Uzmat all his duergar friendliness.
Rikard shakes his head when asked about the entity that attacked the efreeti vessel: "No idea," he replies.
Utzmat says "Nor do I. I do not know what attacked them, for it evaded me. However, I did witness the ejection of one of the vessel’s front sections. As it burned, I boarded and found Rikard. It was a fortuitous event. The efreet of the Sovereignty of the Crimson Sun have been preparing for a war, having moved the Far Portal into their domain. I had been watching their movements."
Raising a large paw, Theo asks "What is this "far portal"?"
Rikard nods, indicating this is a common question asked by visitors to the Burning Archipelago. "In a way, I wish we knew more. It's this massive metallic gateway floating at the edge of Mataras' corona. It's shaped like a vast ring, and it's large enough to accommodate whole starships. We know it leads somewhere in the Plane of Fire; but the few expeditions that have managed to return describe only an inhospitable and uninhabited region. The good news use to be that nothing unexpected ever came out of Far Portal, but if the efreeti have somehow moved it like Uzmat says, it's probably tied into their invasion plans somehow."
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"... I haven't heard about this Far Portal. This seems prevalent. Why have I not heard about this far portal," Amhesha says to no-one in particular..
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I guess we were so caught up in other things, we never told you the story... but that's really how the whole thing started. When we first came out here to do scientific studies, we almost literally ran into a ship coming out of Far Portal. It was piloted by someone who was wearing a slave collar, and another ship chased it out of the portal and triggered the slave collar, turning the pilot to ash.
We've seen many more of those collars, and worse atrocities, in the time since, but that is where it all started.
Amhesha growls at slave collar and glares at Tulgram. "Alright. Thank you for filling me in."
Zharis had left out a lot, including the fact that the pursuing pilot was also wearing a slave collar, and as soon as she was conscious again, she had triggered it herself. But did it matter? Whatever society produced those collars and people who would suicide rather than being willing to talk--in addition to the psychotic experiments and the turning natives into zombies that they had seen since--that kind of society was evil, and whoever was causing it needed to be stopped.
The plan was still the plan. Go to the base, stop the assault... right? Was there additional information now?
To Uzmat she says You say that you have been watching them prepare for war. We're headed to the general's base to try to stop the assault. Any information that you could share that would help?
"I do not know why the Malikah wages war beyond the Plane of Fire," Uzmat answers. "And do I do not know where their fleets travel once they enter the Drift. These are mysteries that need answers. With your leave, and the human safely aboard, I will depart to seek answers and aid my Sarenite friends."
Uzmat departs, and Rikard settles in to rest after his ordeal. Several hours, later Hop says: “Y’all, I’m picking up debris and another comms message. It’s fragmented. Give it a listen.”
Static, pops, and whistles combine with a masculine voice that says “We are . . . kidnapped us . . . . help . . .”
Zharis says
"Debris in the sun? That is very unlikely. ... High likelihood of a trap. And if there are traps, then probably there are bad guys. Let's turn on the antipathy transponder, just in case."
Hop, let's keep our distance, but keep monitoring. If we see anything bigger where hostages might actually be alive, maybe we will rethink. I don't want to leave anyone out here, but my senses are screaming "trap" on this one.
Amhesha growls at slave collar and glares at Tulgram.
Tulgram meets your gaze and grins. Ye've been looking at me a lot lately. Got a crush, kitty?
Hmmm... even efreeti vessels must have shields ta survive more than a short time in tha sun, as even if tha creatures themselves cou' survive, they’d need ta shields ta protect their gear.
Amhesha laughs. "I'd rather spend a month trapped in f$#+ing Axis than have any romantic feelings for you, hell-dwarf."
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"Yeah. No way anything is surviving in the f~~%ing sun as debris. As an actual vessel or structure? Maybe. Things exist in the plane of fire. But it'll get consumed into the sun."
The crew of the Sun Diver are wary of the message, and discuss activating the ship's new stealth technology.
Amhesha laughs. "I'd rather spend a month trapped in f!$+ing Axis than have any romantic feelings for you, hell-dwarf."
I wou' say that we have something in common, but still we dinna have much o' it... Be ye aware, anti-slavery fighter, that chaotic people take slaves with tha same pleasure as lawmen? Examples: drow, pirates, slave markets in tha abyss, an' so on. If ye dislike tha power o' some creatures over others so much, ye be completely under tha wrong banner.
_______
"Don't get me wrong. I'm not some moral freedom fighter like the kind you've probably dealt with.
Besmarans and demons deal in slavery, yes. Why do you think I describe myself as a xenolinguist and not a pirate? My 'god' -- though that translation carries connotations that don't apply to proteans -- isn't Besmara. There are reports of lillends 'serving' the Mother of Tongues, and many, many reports of proteans of all stripes fighting back demons.
You say I'm some anti-slavery freedom fighter? I... that's merely how I dress it in polite company. It reads more 'normal' and 'moral' that way. Slavery, at its core, is the purest form of law. Which is why I hate it. If you want a more apt descriptor in common, the term is probably 'anarchist.'
That law, that tradition, is what caused me to quite literally be booted from pulonis for being piebald. For my f%@~ing fur pigmentation. It's what caused Pulonis to be put under the boot of your beloved Veskarium. It's what drives the Azlanti Star Empire."
Amhesha grumbles in a hissing protean as she works the computers, temporarily taking the role of science officer despite being a mechanic by trade.
"You want to know how I knew this was the 'right path'? How I knew that even Elysium wouldn't fit me? The day I dreamed of Pulonis, and the entire system I was born on, getting encroached on and absorbed and torn apart into chaos by the great Cerulean Void. I didn't care about the lives lost. I didn't care about the destruction. Yet all I remember feeling from that dream was the most sublime joy I've ever experienced."