~ two

The captain sits in his chair at the center of the bridge, envelope in his lap with stunned eyes.  On either sides of the viewscreen are two stations pointed toward him running virtual mapping systems and projections, showing data on surviving craft.

He looks at the view of the warp field forming ahead like fire at their bow, staring ... catches himself getting drawn into it, looks around the bridge.  Stunned and going through motions, clumsy hands dropping a simple tool before complete emotional breakdown.

He leans back and takes a breath, switches on the comm.  Throughout the ship ~

"This is the Captain.  I um.  I ... we have received orders.  Everyone knows what's happened here.  These orders are not explained.  We are to pursue a stolen ship, called 'The Archive'.

...

"And I am thankful.

"Because having orders right now ... means we have no time to think about ... what has happened today.  We have no time for our emotions.  No room for questions.  These orders are priority one, in response to a situation which threatens the survival of our species.

"So we don't have time ... to feel.  Anything.  And I don't personally want to.  So keep our stations.  Be strong for the soldier next to you.  We are the only family we have left.

"And when this mission is done ... after we've completed it, admirably, as you all have performed your duties, admirably, the people on that station will need us to be strong for them too.  So from here on ... that is what we are.

"And I and thankful. 

"Because I know you all to be among the best humanity has to offer.  We survive ... Captain out."

Comm off, head to his hand, elbow on the arm of the chair.

Gregor and McCabe, the mechanic and XO respectively wait in the captain's office as he reads through the briefing in the envelope.  A laugh. 

McCabe - "Well ?"

Captain Artimus - "Nothing.  Almost nothing.  Where the hell is our pilot ?"

The XO gets up annoyed and leaves to go find out.

~ The captain looks up with a grin in another room entirely, steel.  It's all steel.  The table, the chairs, the eyes of a Geneva looking back at him, the one we once called Alley.

Captain - Leans back short nodding, a look to the side.  Voiced over while a robot is assembled in a factory.  "When I first saw her, I knew."  As the base form starts looking more human, likely female.  "My God what a beautiful ship."

"And the hubris.  The brutality."  As a hand flexes and stretches before the arm back to the table.  "Gouging wings.  Set over gunwales.  Gunwales for God sake."

The architecture to hold the skin is set, to the design of bone.  "It takes the Centaur a full bay's climb to break atmosphere.  When everything else said vertical , she takes her time." 

The musculature applied, apparently organically grown, or in closest proximity. 

Captain - Looks at the Geneva.  "But she's a ship of secrets isn't she."

Geneva - "That she is.  And congratulations.  Captain.

The machine opens her human eyes.

Looks at the guy sleeping next to her, then at the clock and then a bang on the door.  "! FUCK !"
____________

Gregor - In seriousness, "How are you holding up."

Captain - Gives him a look like he's insane, then the fakest smile in the world.  "Great !  And how about you !?  Chipper with a wrench going bang bang bang ?"

Gregor - "Oh yeah ... pretty much where the fuck are they ?"

Captain - "Yep."

They enter.

McCabe gives them a look then shakes his head not to bother.

Gijo - "Sorry Captain, won't happen again."

Gregor snorts his disbelief.

Captain - "Alright then.  This is what we've got."  Swipes an annoyed hand across the desk's top, the scanner pops on.  He drops a page from the file, a picture of the seed ship appears on the screen to the side.

McCabe - "Okay.  What is it ?"

Captain - "It's called 'The Archive'."

Gregor - Looking closer, "Okay ... but what is it ?"

The captain flaps around the empty page and then tosses it aside.  Throws the next page down.  Footage of a man in the black armor seen in FMK, storming a hallway.

They lean in as it appears whenever he's shot, a wisp like a ghost is torn away fading behind while he still moves forth unscathed.  The hard cuts of security footage fade to a singular scene.

~ While over and above the complex, the shattered moon descend.

The armored man near dances through the halls crowding with militaria.  Wouldn't call them soldiers, but they certainly do like playing at it.  

Privatized.

His strikes are as blades lashing out from his hands, as if the armor itself projected the blade.

A door slides at the end of the hall and more pour in firing.  Mostly dodged in the dance, a low spin at two feet, caught in the shoulder when he rises.  As though it blew a chunk of soul off of him, a black shadow falls behind.

While somewhere on the city street, one of the men marked by the ghost armors grabs his chest and falls to his knees.  He storms the complex A to B, taking the hits when he has to as more marked men fall in his stead.

Blocks a grenade with the back of his hand, returning it, pulling up a near dead merc for a shield as it blows.

He spins from it, using the weight of the corpse to launch into spin through two more, blade launched from the hand to the last at the door, sending him back through it before closure.

~ The lunar shards ignite on entry.

The door slides open and he sees a line of these men with The Archive behind, all loading and ready.  Looks to the closing bay doors.  They open fire, he spins into and down their line.

Shedding ghosts as their hosts fall in the streets, one on the station unnoticed as a couple makes out like it was a motel.  He slams her to the wall in passion, she grabs and kisses.

The last fallen merc, a low spin back up to the Archive's hull.  He pulls a small tool and hears a noise.  Looks to the door where more gather.  A clicking sound from under the bask, like shaking a can of spray paint.

Kicks a grenade off a dead man's belt and puts a finger through the ring as he spins, continuing into the kick and sending the grenade.  Flicks the ring as it blows and returns to work.

No apparent door, it seems the Archive deconstructs a portion of hull and rebuilds it flush, much as a 3D printer keeping actively keeping the form stabilized. 

A look to the bay door nearly locked, he dives in and the hull closes fast behind. Launches to makes the door, a crack of moon just above reeking it's weathered havoc as he departs to where the opening began.
________

They stare as the last footage fades ... orders on screen.  Experimental craft : The Archive.  Pursue thief.

...

Gregor - A long exhale ... then solemnly, "Do you know what that man was ?"

McCabe - "Do you ?"

...

Gregor - Wide eyes in horror ... another exhale.  "So I was drunk."

Gregor - "We all were.  The last of our troop ... we tucked behind a carved out hill protecting a cannon out of ammo.  Everyone else ... "

~ Scene as described in the night, enemy camp and fire barely a distance away.

"And they knew we were there ... calling to us ... celebrating their victory, 'come join us' ... laughing and celebrating and they had every right.  We were screwed.

"And then ... it was completely quiet.  Not a sound ... we drank ... we waited ... prayed ... prepared to die.  We figured it was time.  They finally were drunk enough and were going to kill us in the most entertaining way possible on wine."

And then in the sunrise ... there he was.

"A guy just like that.  He's got a bag ... we think it's fucking heads.  He throws it, their dinner.  Bastards had sandwiches and wine."

Captain - "Pf.  I remember that war."

Gregor - "You were in grade school."

Captain - "Still remember it."

Gregor - "As do we all, they should never have made land.  A failure of military and governance all around.  But I guess they had it all sorted because they had ... one guy like this.

"He stood there, watched the sun rise with a clicking sound.  Then he looks at us ... and says ... in that voice clicking like a death's rattle ~

~ Operator - "The king is dead."

Gregor - "Looks at back at the sunrise, stretches his neck and back a bit, walks away.  So we give that a sec ... eat some food, we were starving.  Sun up and ... that whole camp was dead."

A path of death we followed to the capitol in a straight line, from the water like he walked, right the fuck all of it.  And right the fuck back into it on the other side of the isle."

He looks at the page ...

McCabe - "Did you learn anything more ?"

Gregor - Tosses the page back, "I did.  It called a ... 'Hecate Operator'.  And from there it turns as mythical as the name.  They say ... 'trained by fate'.  They do not plan, they do not react.  They simply ... know what to do."

Captain - "You mean intuitive."

Gregor - "And predictive.  Impossibly so."

Gijo - "I have no record of this, even in the restricted files.  Who dispatches them."

Gregor - "Everyone wants to say themselves, but in the end they all say somebody else.  It was an urban legend I was lucky enough to see.  And they were so willing to deny, they considered saying we did all that !"  Laughing ...

Captain - "Good work for a cannon's technician."

Gregor - "Just doing my duty sir."

Gijo - "Hm.  About him there's nothing, nor this ship.  But it's definitely new.  That's the surface replication method I created, to heal.  Precisely the same particulate nature."

McCabe - "Well that's interesting.  Got anything else ?"

Gijo - A look ... "No.  That's all I can see."

Captain - "Well we know where he's headed.  He dropped a beacon, left a very clear directional trail.  As you say.  Point A to B, to the center of the galaxy."