Irune: "-and I humbly request of you to accept this apology of mine-"
The instant Merrion heard those words, there was an instant that seemed to disappear from her perception, as if she had blinked and cut out not just her sight but all her senses as well. She swore that the woman before her, Irune, yes that was her name, had said things before and after that, but she could barely focus on anything else but that statement, that request…no, that command.
The more she tried to resist that singular compulsion, the harder her mind focused upon it, as if the very act of rebelling only intensified the desire to submit, to follow, to obey.
Merrion (thinking): No…what…what is happening…why can't I…I must stop this…I must fight this thought…I must accept…accept…accept acceptacceptacceptACCEPTACCEPT –
Merrion staggered backwards, barely maintain her upright stance. Her body was frozen, but still standing. There was no use rebelling. Why rebel? Wasn't it just better to submit? She did apologize after all, didn't she? The request was reasonable, after all, and there was no reason not to allow it, to let it in, to accept it…to accept it…to accept –
---
As if in response to the thought, which threatened to overwhelm and subdue Merrion's mind, something reawakened. It let out the entirety of its being, saturating the boundaries of Merrion's psyche with itself, forming an inescapable web of energy. The thought-parasite, which had till now swam rampant, was ensnared in the web let loose by this being within Merrion's mind, caught amongst the tendrils that wrapped around every synapse of every nerve.
The thought-parasite struggled, it writhed, it tried to break free in whichever way it could, but there was no hope. Like the two others ensnared deeper in the tangled network, there was no escape, and its struggles only further depleted its potential, rendering it into a mass of incoherent energy until it dissipated back into nothingness –
---
Merrion let out a gasp as the thought vanished from her mind, as if strangled out of existence. There was a stinging sensation and a tightness in her chest, like she had been held underwater and holding her breath, and she rapidly huffed and puffed to clear the discomfort from her body.
How much time had passed? Irune had been standing before her, and now she was gone, as if teleported away. The man was gone too, and she was just standing there, dazed and confused with Edmund and Alta nearby.
Merrion looked at Edmund, hoping that maybe she wasn't alone in that brief ordeal. Surely he must have felt that compulsion too.
Merrion: "What…just happened?"
Edmund: "Just some "highborn" git talking down to us, and needing some discipline taught to him by his betters, apparently – hey, are you okay? You're incredibly pale. Was that encounter that bad for you?"
Going by that reply, was it just her who experienced that? Merrion looked over to Alta, fearing that she would also be unaffected. Not a single crumple nor crease was visible upon her outfit, and the hat remained proudly perched atop her head, immovably and unyielding. Yet, there was a marked look of concern on her face that Merrion hadn't seen before, subtle as it was.
Alta: "It was…inevitable that we would eventually encounter the Celsos' representative. Given the prestigious nature of the Voidway Auction, there was no way they wouldn't have been invited. That being said, I did not expect Sabrina to send Irune as her representative…"
Edmund: "Are they dangerous? They had that entire accompaniment of mercs with them…are they expected to be a threat at some point?"
Alta: "It is not their escorts that you need to fear, Detective, nor that pompous scion with barely enough manners to hold his remarks before me. Zora has informed me about your combined capabilities, and the two of you are more than capable of handling him and their entire escort group."
Alta's eyebrow twitched, ever so slightly.
Alta: "No, the one who will be the greatest trouble for us is that lady. I was…fearing the worst when she showed up, but it would appear that my fears were, thankfully, unfounded. Detective Edmund…you were able to reply…most intriguing. And Detective Merrion, I'm surprised that you didn't instantly crumble during that experience. You two have…exceeded all my expectations."
Merrion: "You…know what that was?"
Edmund: "Experience? What happened? Explain yourself, Alta! What did Merrion experience?"
Alta: "That woman, Irune, is possessed of an uncanny and overwhelming persuasiveness. I have…experienced that compulsion before, but as it would appear, the augments that enable me to link with data interfaces seem to confer a degree of immunity against them."
Alta parted her white-grey hair, revealing a flesh-coloured but distinctly plasticky-looking cranial datajack, designed to blend in better with the skin than the obviously metallic and utilitarian model Merrion had previously seen on the Lord Admiral's corpse.
Alta: "But you two, you have no such augments, unless –"
Edmund: "The arms are all I have."
Merrion: "I'm completely unaugmented."
Alta: "Then the fact that neither of you broke instantly to her "request" makes the two of you the perfect escorts for me. What good fortune indeed – someone's coming."
Alta's sudden warning triggered a surge of adrenaline in Merrion. She and Edmund whipped around, trying to find the impending arrival. Would it be someone as dangerous as that lady, Irune? Wait, could it be that Irune was like that man, Anant? Sure, Anant's ability was definitely paranormal, conjuring chains that could only be seen when contacted. But that compulsion, that all-devouring and ensnaring compulsion, surely no normal human could be so persuasive as to induce that experience that Merrion had gone through upon merely hearing a spoken request…
A youthful man strode up to the trio, returning Merrion's focus back to the present. Dressed in the cream-white Admiralty formal attire, the man clicked his magnetic boots together and saluted proudly, chest puffed out. Insignias and badges pinned across the man's chest, along with a name stitched across the right side, designated him as Shane Stone, a First Lieutenant of the 4th Sector.
Alta: "At ease, officer. The Research Bureau is parallel to the Admiralty, you do not need to salute me."
Shane: "Understood, madam. My deepest apologies for the delay, I did not know you were arriving to the vessel at this time. Who might your companions be?"
---
Edmund looked over the officer standing before them. His uniform was impressively decorated with various medals, and he was slightly taller than Edmund. His youthful features were apparent, though there was a scar bearing stitch marks across the right side of his face that marred his otherwise flawless looks.
Alta: "These are my bodyguards. I've…loaned them, from the 8th Sector's Fleet Investigation Division. You may introduce yourselves."
Edmund: "Detective Edmund, 8th Sector FID."
Merrion: "Detective Merrion, also 8th Sector FID! Nice to meet you, Lieutenant!"
Shane: "It is a pleasure to meet you two. Madame Inquisitor, the 4th Sector Admiral has requested that I escort you and your bodyguards to your residential suite aboard the vessel, as a token of his gratitude for your assistance rendered."
Alta: "It is graciously accepted."
Shane turned about in a single flawless movement and began walking in the same direction from which he had arrived, followed closely behind by the three of them. Together, they ventured away from the docking terminal, heading towards a location marked as the Main Atrium.
Shane: "There is a bellhop waiting with a transit cart at the atrium's entrance. They will take you to your suite, and myself to mine."
Alta: "Most agreeable. Tell me, how are things in the 4th Sector currently? When I last corresponded with the 4th, he was…not in the highest of spirits."
The young lieutenant turned to regard Alta, even as he continued forward.
Shane: "The outbreak is being contained, yes, but we are greatly in need of medical supplies as well as personnel. We are coping, but the 4th is nearing his wits end. When we received the invitation for this auction, we thought it was a mean-spirited joke being played upon us, but upon reviewing the items up for grabs, our perspectives were…realigned, so to speak."
There was a sad look on Shane's face, a smile that bore the weight of an untold number of souls upon it and the barely contained sorrow of its wearer. Even Edmund could tell that.
Merrion: "You're rather young, and yet you are already well decorated. It must be an honor, to have been awarded so many medals of valor!"
Edmund barely held himself back from smacking Merrion for that sudden outburst, his eyes widened in shock. He turned to Shane, half expecting the lieutenant to react poorly, but there was only professionalism in the man's pace as he continued onwards, without even a change to his pace.
Shane: "If only these were earned in honorable combat against the enemies of the Fleet, as some did in the long centuries prior. Unfortunately, while I bear these medals with pride, I…cannot honestly say that I would wish for them again, were it that I knew what I had to do to earn them."
Though he looked young, the lieutenant's soul had been hardened in the fires of conflict, and quenched in the blood of the sacrificed, a terrible price to pay for the medals adorning his uniform. As that realization dawned upon Merrion, she began to frantically apologize.
Merrion: "I…I see…I'm sorry to hear that. I didn't mean to – "
Alta: "Could it be, young lady, that you are unaware of the situation?"
Merrion: "The – what?"
Shane suddenly stopped in his tracks, causing the trio to halt as well.
Shane: "There is no need to explain it to them, Madame Inquisitor. We have done what we needed to do for the sake of public order and the good of the Fleet. We do not require nor seek gratitude not acknowledgement of our efforts. Duty is its own reward."
Alta: "Lieutenant, the situation is not classified information, is it?"
There was a tense silence, with only the background hum of the omnipresent ventilation systems as accompaniment.
Shane: "No, Madame Inquisitor, it is not."
Alta: "Then surely I am empowered to let them know, as is befitting my rank."
Shane: "I can only object, but not restrain. Do as you wish, Madame, as is your right."
Alta sighed.
Alta: "Very well, in recognition of the relationship between myself and the 4th Sector Admiral, I shall remain silent for now. Will that be acceptable, Lieutenant?"
Shane: "You have my utmost gratitude, Madame Inquisitor, from both me and my comrades."
---
After several more minutes of walking, the party reached a bay where a bellhop in a brightly-coloured red uniform stood at attention besides an empty transit cart. Upon sighting their arrival, the bellhop urgently walked over to the transit cart, prepping it for departure.
Shane: "Good day, bellhop. I require transit to the residential suites, for myself and these honored guests as well."
Bellhop: "Certainly. The Dimoprasia welcomes you aboard, honored guests. Your communicators have already been scanned and registered. We welcome and thank you for participating in the Voidway Auction."
Following the bellhop's instructions, the trio secured their bags within a cargo net at the back of the transit cart. Since the Dimoprasia was a microgravity environment, there were no seats in the transit cart. Instead, the passengers strapped themselves in whilst standing into a full-torso restraint, akin to those found in high-speed rollercoaster attractions, with additional restraints for the legs and the feet.
Once the party was secured, the transit cart departed, accelerating down a rail embedded in the center of the hallway. As the wooden paneling of the hallways began to blur together from the speed, the narrow hallway was suddenly gone, replaced with the wide-open expanse in the central section of the Dimoprasia. The impulse jets at the back of the transit cart engaged, propelling the cart forward as it transitioned to free flight.
From her position, Merrion took in the view with awe. Altansarnai had been completely honest with her assessment of the luxuriant nature of the Dimoprasia. In fact, she had probably understated the true extent of the Dimoprasia's inner splendor.
Unlike other vessels intended for centrifugal gravity, the Dimoprasia was oriented for thrust gravity. As such, it was constructed like a giant building, with the floors oriented perpendicular to the thrust axis. However, in an impressive display, the central section was as underutilized as the large habitation drums, with a large central void surrounding a central lift shaft enabling access to the numerous "floors" stacked vertically in the Dimoprasia.
Merrion: "Wow…it's so spacious! Everything is stacked vertically!"
Edmund: "I can't believe someone could actually afford to construct, let alone fill this ship."
Bellhop: "The Dimoprasia is a beauty, and you will want for nothing during your stay with us. We have luxuries available for even the most discerning connoisseur."
Swarms of constructs shaped like cubes flitted about in the air, propelled by jets embedded in their frames and flying about with a geometric grace. They formed into beautiful clusters transiently, before breaking apart to dodge the transit cart as it passed through the previously occupied airspace.
Edmund laughed heartily, a gesture that was not reciprocated by the bellhop as he piloted the transit cart with a steady hand.
Edmund: "That won't be a problem. Some "highborn" earlier called me a lowborn individual, so that means I'll be easy to please!"
Bellhop: "Perish that thought! You will be staying in one of our few Residential Suites, units of luxury that even the Sector Admirals themselves have never resided in! If nothing else, surely such an experience will elevate you into the hallowed ranks of the highborn!"
The transit cart exited somewhere in the middle of the central void from where the docking terminal was located. Propelled by its airbreathing impulse jets, it maneuvered around the central lift shaft and began ascending towards the fore end of the vessel. As it did, the central void began tapering, and the bellhop skillfully piloted the transit cart into a parking gantry right outside Suite 003.
Bellhop: "We have arrived at your suite, Madame."
Alta: "Thank you, bellhop. I have transferred the tip to your account already. You should find it…satisfactory, I hope."
Bellhop: "Many thanks, honored guests. I hope you enjoy your stay. It is sure to be the experience of your lifetime."
With the assistance of the bellhop, Alta, Edmund and Merrion retrieved their belongings from the cargo net, leaving Shane as the remaining passenger in the transit cart.
Shane: "I look forward to spending more time with all of you later. Come bellhop, let us be on our way!"
With a final salute, the transit cart departed, descending to a lower floor and leaving the party standing outside the door to Suite 003, a wooden door ornately carved with images of mythical guardian beasts and embossed with gold foil in a way that caught and reflected the light from the myriad fixtures scattered about.
Alta retrieved her communicator from her suit pocket and tapped it in the lone electronic lock embedded in the door. It made a beep of acknowledgement, and the doors swung open, revealing the interior of the residential suite to the trio.
Alta: "Welcome, Detectives, to our home for the next 7 days."
---
Intercom: "Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We will soon be commencing a twenty-minute acceleration burn at one standard gravity. For your safety, please be seated within the acceleration couches provided in your cabins within the next ten minutes. You will not be able to leave the cabin during acceleration. We will inform you all again when the acceleration is due to commence. Thank you."
The intercom drone flew away, maneuvering in the microgravity to a stowage recess somewhere in the residential suite. Merrion, watching the drone depart the room with a suspicious glare, made her way over to the acceleration couch closest to her and settled into it as best she could.
Unlike the other cabins, the residential suite had multiple acceleration couches scattered throughout its layout, most able to pull double-duty as chairs when not needed to cushion against accelerations. Merrion, Edmund and Alta were now waiting in the central room of the suite, each strapped into their own acceleration couches.
The acceleration couch was a basic piece of thrust-mitigation technology. Using a controllable gel element, the couch was able to perfectly conform to the body of its occupant and through buoyancy, take away some of the strain of a high-G thrust burn. To further ensure that the occupant was perfectly aligned with the thrust vector, the acceleration couch was able to swivel within a gimbal to keep all G-loads perpendicular to the body, minimizing stresses.
The Dimoprasia was only scheduled to perform a one-standard gravity burn, so Merrion wasn't worried of any side effects. What she was worried about, however, was –
Merrion: "Aren't there an unnecessary number of constructs in this vessel? Why are there so many?"
Even the habitation vessels, whilst employing a wide variety of constructs for various mundane tasks, mostly used animalistic or insectoid models. The small bodies of most constructs could only operate a limited set of instructions, and even the larger intelligent constructs were limited to highly sophisticated, yet ultimately non-sapient programs that only mimicked intelligence in their complexity.
She had noticed it earlier, back when the cart was maneuvering to their suite. The flock of cube constructs flying about, each one with a camera embedded into each of its six faces. Grandiose in scale, and excessive in their abstractness.
Edmund: "Yeah, I've noticed too. One of those buggers interrupted me earlier when I was taking a shit. Flew right into the toilet and back out."
Merrion: "Eek! Will they interrupt me when I take a bath?!"
Alta: "If you manually jam the door shut I doubt they'll be able to get in. But that might draw attention to us because those are surveillance constructs."
Merrion watched Edmund roll his eyes and sigh in exasperation.
Edmund: "Reaaaallly? Surveillance? Didn't that bellhop go on about "honored guests" and what not?""
Alta: "My guess is that everyone is being watched here. If not now, then later. Those constructs are perfectly adept in moving about in microgravity, unlike us. They could silently maneuver about and hide in our blind spots, no matter where we are on the ship."
Merrion: "Why all the surveillance though? If the guests are so "highborn" and what not, wouldn't they know to restrain and conduct themselves?"
Alta: "Let me put it in another way then. Suppose that all your life, you've been taught that everyone else was beneath you, and that the world was yours by birthright. All the fruits and pleasures of the realm, yours for the taking. Do you suppose you would have the common man's definition of restraint and conduct? That others, once defined as "lesser" than yourself, are worth any modicum of respect or decency? To them, this ship, all the treasures presumably stored aboard it, and the rights and integrity of the other passengers, they are all as worthy as respect as that of a stinging insect. To be taken from without restraint, and only fended off through the threat of a sting."
Merrion: "That's…horrible…"
Alta: "That's also why every guest aboard has brought bodyguards with them. Granted, they know better than to mess with each other, but also the combined presence of all the others helps to keep unruly behavior from individuals at bay. Towards both themselves and to others. Behaving badly in front of "nobodies" is one thing but conducting yourself in an unbecoming manner before your peers, now that will affect your standing even back in the Sectors. Plus, it might even give just cause to eliminate a rival, in the name of maintaining order."
Alta gave a knowing smirk, and to Merrion, it seemed to imply that she had either witnessed such an event before or set it into motion by her own scheming. A shudder traveled down her back, and Merrion was momentarily glad that she was on Alta's side, ostensibly. Although, there was just one other thing –
Merrion: "You still owe us an explanation for that issue aboard the Estrella. I know what you said earlier, but you did say not to mention it until you did. So now that you have, perhaps you can finally tell us in greater detail, Alta."
Resolute and firmly, Merrion put forth that declaration. Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see Edmund smile in agreement. Alta, acknowledging her statement, pointed towards the acceleration couch she was seated in as the intercom flared to life once more.
Intercom: All personnel and passengers, please take your seats in the acceleration couches. Acceleration will be commencing in 1 minute's time.
Alta: "It seems like I cannot hold off forever on my purpose for being here, and for bringing you here. Luckily, the acceleration we will experience shortly should keep the bulk of any surveillance drones from impinging on our little conversation. I must humbly request for your patience till then, my bodyguards."
---
Outside, in the void of space, the last cargo shuttles and service vessels bound for the Estrella unberthed from their docking ports and fired their thrusters, accelerating away from the flawless metal superstructure of the Dimoprasia back to the utilitarian construction of their homeport, the Estrella.
As the last of the vessels finally crossed a pre-designated boundary about ten kilometers in radius from the Dimoprasia, a command was sent from the bridge destined for the engine modules at the ship's aft. Spools of superconducting wire unfurled from their storage housings, linked by segments of micrometer-thick nanotubes into a kilometer-long magnetic nozzle that was both colossal in scale and completely invisible to the unaugmented eye.
The burning heart of an artificial star in the bowels of the Dimoprasia, contained by magnetic field lines twisted by ancient programs into a self-stabilizing loop, flared from its default power-generation intensity into thrust-generation levels, fed by an accelerated input of fusion fuels. This power was fed into the thrust module: an array of ten railguns and ten lasers all aimed towards a singular point half a kilometer away from the aft of the ship, warming up their components and energizing their capacitors.
The first railgun fired, sending a precisely engineered fuel pellet flying out at ten kilometers a second, reaching the focal point of the ten lasers after just five-hundredths of a second. Perfectly synchronized together with machine precision, the lasers fired at the fuel pellet, igniting the fusion fuel within into a violent churning inferno of plasma that roared invisibly and thrashed briefly against the magnetic field lines generated by the nozzle before bouncing off them into the empty void of space, pushing the Dimoprasia forward.
Then the next railgun fired, followed closely by the lasers, and the next, and the next. Ten times a second this process repeated, pulsing the reaction and pushing the Dimoprasia forward at one standard gravity. To any unaugmented human eye witnessing the engine's ignition from within the danger zone, the levels of x-ray and neutron radiation released by the fusion reaction would make the sight both unimpressive and quickly lethal.
But there was a small amount of light generated, small relative to the total energy of each ignited fuel pellet. A small hole in the magnetic field allowed a tiny amount of plasma to travel back up the field lines, back towards the physical engine module of the Dimoprasia, where it compressed against itself and converted its kinetic energy into thermal energy, thermal energy that heated the plasma back up into the visible range.
And so the Dimoprasia was pushed forward to a destination known only to its crew, pushed forward by the light of a new dawn.