I heard some voices speaking in the background mingled with the electronic noise of radio interference. Did someone accidentally press the broadcast button and broadcasted it over to this machinery?
My cochlear implant cleared up the radio frequency waves as much as it could to amplify their voices.
"What is *zzzshzzzsh** crime?"
"Species Kamuy **zzshzzzsh** cybernetic **zzzsh***in **zzsh**."
The way the person mentioned cybernetics almost made me laugh.
My kind resembled the dominant humanoid species in the Galaxy - one head, two arms, two legs, a pair of eyes, no tails or wings. Only mild differences exist from different evolutionary process.
We infiltrated the societies of any humanoid species who resembled us. But the person spoke of us, like some monster.
My species, the Kamuy, hold three unique characteristics - our embedded cybernetic implants for enhancements, eugenic manipulation, and eye colours.
"**zzzsh** looks **zzsh** right, red eyes **zzsh**, was ranked **zzsh**."
The military class bore red irises in the eye, like mine. Pale grey eyes belonged to the ruling class. The geniuses have golden eyes and the others, various shades of violet.
The electronic noise cleared.
"Prisoner Tuku Genja cleared for boarding. Proceed down the gateway," a man's voice spoke clearly this time.
The force-field disintegrated. I strolled through the plain gateway down onto the aero bridge and stepped into the vessel via the air lock.
Five paces away, a thick door slid open with a bam.
I entered and a grim two-storey hall greeted me with my footsteps on the scratched metal floor echoing through the empty interior.
When my eyes squinted at the scratches on the wall, the optical implant inside magnified the scratches to reveal them as a series of scrawls by previous occupants.
Nothing special and worth noting except there's a thin sheet of soft metal covering the astronium wall structure.
Small port holes lined the side of the ship. I peered out of the nearest one at the side, only to see the empty gateway of the space station in the darkness of space.
Nothing fascinating.
I glanced upwards at the upper floor walkway that protruded from the hall on both sides. Along the walkway, floor-to-ceiling metal fence mesh lined the railings.
From my position, the door on the cubicles built on the opposite side had something small built into the door.
Most intergalactic class ships, especially the holiday cruisers, had hibernation pods to protect the individual from the wormhole and interstellar radiation.
My optical implant swept the area - no sign of those pods. Then it narrowed in on the item on the door on cue and promptly displayed the information.
[Door: peephole viewer, 220 wide angle]
[Material: diamond]
[Warning: Radioactive residue in surroundings - beta radiation 0.1]
Any residue radioactivity with over 0.01indicated radiation exposure, most likely while passing through the wormholes.
One advantage of using diamond-engineered glass for a peephole: no one can stab my eye out with any makeshift shank when I look out.
Not like it will help with radiation poisoning.
I looked around while my optical implant scanned and detected even more radioactive residues.
Without those hibernation pods, my fellow traveling prisoners and I will be subjected to slow radiation poisoning. If they survived the journey, their bodies will be in a weakened state because beta radiation mutated cellular structures.
A hologram of a crew member in uniform popped up before me without a warning.
"Replicators for food and water over there," the hologram said without a greeting.
My optical implant scanned him discreetly.
[Holographic projection: remote controlled]
[Projection origin: Ceiling]
[Sensor arrays: Ceiling, Floor]
The schematics of the hall appeared in my eye, pinpointing the locations of the sensors and projection points.
Useless to attack remote controlled holograms which are nothing but images formed out of thin air.
He turned left and pointed at the end where empty box-like receptacles were. "You'll get a basic meal ration meeting your nutritional requirements, and a bottle of water per 1 parsec travel time."
Yeah, I don't expect a buffet.
"We've restricted cubicles to only one occupant. Your hygiene needs are within your chosen cubicle," the hologram added as it started walking to the right side towards a skeletal looking stairway.
I halted and blurted out, "I can choose?"
"Yes. No change allowed after selection of cubicle."
My optical implant started scanning every nook and cranny of the hall to gauge the optimum choice of a corner cubicle. Trey took a side cubicle.
Corner cubicles are often the best. You don't need to worry about getting jumped from two sides, only one side.
Far end cubicles, the ones away from the stairs, are more private but the disadvantage of getting jumped from other open cubicles while passing by.
"How far are we from the penal colony?" I asked.
"60,000 parsecs."
I halted at his reply.
"How long is our journey?"
"With interstellar jump, a standard galactic month," the hologram replied.
"Any um… activities?"
"This isn't a luxury holiday cruise craft," the hologram replied with a smirk. "You are, however, allowed to wander outside your cubicle at all times for exercise."
Eleven prisoners will be stuck in this space for a week, bored out of their minds. No entertainment, like how I trained in the military.
The space in the hall reminded me of its potential as a fight arena. In the Kamuy military training camps, fighting is the entertainment. That or gambling games to heighten aggression and practice tactics to cheat.
"I heard…the Kamuy military encourages mutual killing in your ranks," the hologram said.
I coughed politely and replied, "If that's true, they won't have much of us to keep beating the Great Swirl Council."
Well, what he says was not entirely false, but I liked the priceless look on his face.
Mutual killing only happens during cadet days before we received our official ranks. The more you kill, the higher the achieved rank on graduating.
"I guess your family will miss you," the hologram added.
I guess a lot don't know about Kamuy society or he is fishing for information.
Even the normal Kamuy feared us. We don't have families to form attachments.
We are created with the best genes in one sterile laboratory.
"I wonder what my parents would say," I replied, playing his little game.
It isn't a lie.
Our best geneticists are our de facto parents, screened each sequence in the egg and spermatozoa.
Any fertilized egg with a mutation or perceived gene tagged as bad was discarded.
From the sterile laboratory dish throughout our lives, all weaknesses must be weeded out. Dying meant a weakness existed.
News of one trainee graduating as a sole survivor of a military training batch is common in the hundreds.
They bred us to be killers operating on pure logic with no emotional attachments.
If breeding didn't weed out most emotions, the cybernetic implants will finish the job of eliminating any weakness of emotions.
"We also provide playing cards," the hologram said.
Even better. Gambling and fighting go hand in hand, easier to stir the crowd like the good ole training days.
"All prisoners will be made aware of each other's crimes to promote harmony. The holographic board with your rap sheets will be displayed."
Promote harmony, my ass. Other than the space pirates, it's just Trey and I. All of us are in this together.