The whole ship vibrated, and I gripped the edge of my bed, irrationally thinking earthquake, even though I hadn’t been on a planet in years. A metal blast sheet slammed down over the door of my lavish guest suite.
Honored human, my liaison Ctherk mind-whispered to me. I am told the Azlanti ship has launched an anchoring device and foiled our escape. The shirren host, garbed in a red robe exactly the same hue as the fanciful ship we traveled in, stood before the viewscreen on the wall. They pierced our hull with a metal spike, trailing a tether, and bound us together. They gestured with a three-clawed hand and called up an image of the attacking ship.
I recognized the sacred geometries of an Azlanti Star Empire cruiser, one of the beautifully symmetrical ships crafted in the Imperial Foundry, hanging against the darkness like an elegant glass ornament. Death shouldn’t wear such a lovely form. The ship was probably Spindle-class, though I couldn’t be sure. I wished I’d paid more attention to reports on the Foundry during council meetings back on Absalom Station, but my work was focused on the Veskarium, the slightly less hostile interplanetary empire next door, rather than on the Azlanti. I vaguely recalled that Spindle-class ships were favored by the Azlanti Empire’s spy agency, so....
Oh, no.
“This isn’t a random attack,” I said. “I think they’re here for me.”
Ctherk’s mouthparts quivered and a chittering sound I couldn’t interpret emerged, one of the first verbalizations they’d made in my presence. Why would they want you, honored delegate?
“I’m on my way to a summit in the Veskarium,” I said. “The uneasy peace between the Pact Worlds and the vesk has been strained lately, with attacks on the outskirts of various systems seeming to violate the truce in both directions. I’m supposed to go and reiterate our commitment to peace....” I shook my head. “I heard a theory that the attacks were organized by the Azlanti, using stolen vesk and Pact Worlds ships, hoping to destabilize relations between us. If they can make us fight each other, we’ll be weaker when the Empire decides to strike. If so, the Azlanti want to stop me from repairing relations... or to use me for some other scheme.”
Azlanti marines swarm a shirren starship in this illustration by Tomasz Chistowski. Find the rules for running your own boarding actions in Starfinder Starship Operations Manual, available everywhere July 30.
The ship vibrated, and a beautiful cut-glass decanter fell from a table and smashed onto the floor. We are attempting to fight back. The distaste in Ctherk’s mind-voice was evident. Despite popular belief, I knew not all shirrens were pacifists, but the ones on this luxurious diplomatic transport certainly were. That was part of why their vessels and crews were in such high demand for missions like mine. If you showed up for a summit in a Hivonyx Industries Diplomat-class cruiser like this one (its name was something in the shirren language which translated roughly to Will They Or Won’t They), crewed by peace-loving shirrens, everyone knew you weren’t planning a sneak attack or military treachery. That advantage was a weakness now, though.
“We actually have weapons on this thing?”
Sufficient to repel pirates and escape, Ctherk said. Likely not sufficient to fend off an Azlanti attack vessel that has already plunged a barbed stinger deep into our flesh.
I could see tiny specks pouring out of the enemy ship on screen. “Can you magnify that?”
Ctherk obliged. Those specks were people, wearing jet-packs of some kind, bearing rifles. “A boarding party,” I said. “Azlanti marines. Can they breach the ship?”
They have already gouged a hole in the hull. The tone in my mind was mournful. One of the upper decks suffered catastrophic decompression. Several of my hive-mates were lost.
“Oh, Ctherk, I’m so sorry.” I took a long pause, allowing a moment of solemn gravity, thinking bitterly that my diplomatic training had taught me well. “How long can we hold them off?”
They.... Our tactical officer believes they are Aeon Guard.
The elite shock-troops of the Empire, the spearhead of their invasion forces, the enforcers of their imperial goals. “Not long, then. What do we do?”
Ctherk’s mouthparts quivered. Protocol is to shelter here while our officers negotiate with the aggressors.
“Ah,” I said. “So, wait here to be captured. I wonder if they’ll imprison me, or brainwash me, strap a bomb to me, and send me on to the summit?” My first absurd thought was that my career would be ruined; the Prime Executive had put me up for this mission personally, and its failure would reflect badly on me. My next thought was that I might be responsible for a new war between the Pact Worlds and the vesk. I tried to focus back on the first thought, but it was too late.
The viewscreen shifted to an interior view of a corridor on our ship. I didn’t know how far away that corridor was, but the Will They Or Won’t They was only about a hundred meters long, so it couldn’t be far. A group of four armored and blank-masked Aeon Guards stomped into view, moving as one, weapons held at port arms. They looked like they were in a formal parade, not a chaotic military action. One of them aimed and fired at something, and the screen went black.
The Azlanti are a curious people, Ctherk said. I confess I do not understand them. They are human, with individual wills, but they subjugate themselves, body and mind, to their leaders. They even choose to erase all signs of individuality with those faceless masks. It’s as if... they want to become the Swarm.
I could only nod. The shirrens were an offshoot of that monolithic insectoid race, descendants of Swarm members who’d rebelled, choosing individualism and peace over hive-minded destruction. They took physical pleasure from making even small choices, and I’d watched Ctherk luxuriate in the decision over which dessert to have at dinner the night before. I could understand why the faceless ranks of the lock-stepping Azlanti would strike them as particularly horrible.
Would you like to wait here for inevitable capture, or risk death for the chance at freedom? Ctherk thought at me.
“Freedom,” I said, without hesitation.
I felt something like a smile appear in my mind. Spoken like a shirren. Ctherk slithered out of their robe, revealing their smaller pair of secondary arms, their chitinous exoskeleton, and their complicated, spiky legs. Put this on, and pull the hood up.
I complied, hiding myself in meters of cloth. “What are we doing?”
I have coordinated with some of the crew. They will project their thoughts to the Azlanti, as if accidentally broadcasting too wide in a panic, and describe a false plan to take you to the hold of the ship and put you on board a shuttle. Perhaps they will be fooled. Meanwhile, I will escort you to an escape pod. It is equipped with stealth technology, and may avoid detection.
The blast doors rose up as Ctherk thumped a panel on the wall, which fell open to reveal a weapon that looked like a harpoon crossed with a plasma rife. This is a non-lethal stunning weapon, Ctherk said. But it may buy time.
“Once we get out of here—”
Once you get out of here, honored delegate. The escape pod has room only for one.
“Ctherk, if the Aeon Guards catch you, they’ll kill you. Even if I get away—”
Helping you is my choice, Ctherk said. The Azlanti would take all choice away. Please let me keep mine.
I am a steely-eyed negotiator, unmoved by sentiment or emotion—that’s why I was chosen for this trip, because the vesk respect strength and cold clarity.
There were tears in my eyes as I put my hand on Ctherk’s smooth, hard shoulder. “The Pact Worlds thank you. Absalom Station thanks you. I thank you.”
Ctherk opened the door, and I followed them, into freedom or death.
About the Author
Tim Pratt is the author of more than 20 novels, most recently the Axiom space opera series, including Philip K. Dick Award finalist The Wrong Stars and its sequels, The Dreaming Stars and The Forbidden Stars. Tim’s five Pathfinder Tales novels—City of the Fallen Sky, Reign of Stars, Liar’s Blade, Liar’s Bargain, and Liar’s Island—are available now. He's a Hugo Award winner for short fiction, and has been a finalist for Nebula, World Fantasy, Sturgeon, Mythopoeic, Stoker, and other awards. His collection Miracles & Marvels was released last fall. He tweets incessantly (@timpratt) and publishes a new story every month for patrons at www.patreon.com/timpratt.
About Tales From The Drift
The Tales from the Drift series of web-based flash fiction provides an exciting glimpse into the setting of the Starfinder Roleplaying Game. Written by members of the Starfinder development team and some of the most celebrated authors in tie-in gaming fiction, the Tales from the Drift series promises to explore the worlds, alien cultures, deities, history, and organizations of the Starfinder setting with engaging stories to inspire Game Masters and players alike.
