LF Friends, Will Travel

Spot chased after the ball, bounding over the surface of the moon on all fours as he ran after his target, an instinctual joy and exhilaration filling his mind. Sure the uplift might be a trained doctor and one of the leading authorities in biogenetic engineering, in the end, he was still the same puppy that had been born all those years ago in Texas. No matter how many genetic treatments Spot had gone through to change him from a non-sapient to a sapient, some things didn’t change; including the simple joy of chasing a bright yellow ball.

It was also something he couldn’t do much of anymore. As much as he liked the Hatil and Scythen on his research team, there was one thing that Terrans, humans in particular, could do that nobody else could. Humans weren’t the smartest of species, they weren’t the strongest or fastest. Even their persistence wasn’t the “best”. No humans overall weren’t special apart from one skill: The ability to throw things very hard and very accurately. Most could do one or the other, only a Terran Human could do both.

Throwing the item in the far lower gravity of the moon and bounding around after the tennis ball was, while slightly embarrassing, very enjoyable. Spot however did pick the ball up with his paws and start making his way back to Amander bipedally, attempting to retain at least a little bit of dignity.

“So what’s gone and got you up in a hissy?”

The voice of Amander crackled through the headset of the spacesuit, causing the uplift to pause for a moment in response.

“I’m really not sure what you mean” Spot responded carefully.

“I haven’t seen ya for three years and you’re avoiding me like I’m covered in pig shit.”

That had been true. The truth was Spot was rather annoyed with Amander: the first time he had seen his friend in three years, and it was yet another case of the human throwing herself into danger. However it really wasn’t the time to bring things up considering the circumstances surrounding Fluur's treatment, so instead the uplift had decided to do the mature thing and avoid the confrontation entirely over the last three days.

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

Amander took that moment to snatch the ball out of the canine’s paws, putting her hands on her hips and looking sternly down at Spot. Or at least as sternly as you can do through the visor of a spacesuit.

“I ain’t throwin’ this again until you tell me what’s wrong!”

This caused the uplift to give a sigh. He knew that at this point the human wouldn’t give up on her quest to get him to talk, it would be far faster to just come out with it.

“I haven’t seen you in three years and the first time I do is because you’ve once again put yourself in danger. Once again you’re trying to solve it yourself instead of doing the smart thing and going through the proper channels.”

“What was I supposed to do?”

“Go to the government!” The exasperation was clear in Spot’s voice as he responded. “The organisation with guns and diplomats and everything you need when you kill an Estorian prince!”

“So they can take the easy way out?” Amander responded with her own fire, an anger born of experience, of betrayal. “So they can hand me an’ Fluur off to the Raha? So they can tell me again ‘When we said just followin’ orders ain’t a defence, that don’t apply to our orders’!”

Spot knew what event she was talking about. Amander had been on the T.C Odin. The planet cracker, the destroyer of the Hatil colony Tavairis, the moment when Terrans everywhere knew they’d gone too far. Going to war against someone who had aggressed on you first was one thing, destroying an entire planet against an enemy who had no realistic way to fight back was another. The only reason the war was still going at that point was simply because the Hatil didn’t realise that surrender was an option.

“It all worked out didn’t it? Humans did the right thing in the end, you always do.”

That had also been the case. Captain H Samaras was currently serving his life sentence in a military prison somewhere and those who had tried to stop him had all been cleared of any wrongdoing. Efforts had been made to help the Hatil and many historians and analysts believed that the destruction of Tavairis was the single biggest reason why the Terrans were so conflict avoidant and willing to ally with anyone.

“After the public outcry got too much. Ya don’t get points for bein’ forced into doin’ the right thing.” Amander’s voice had turned softer, less angry and more forlorn. “There were 381 other people on that ship and when given a choice to stop a vengeful madman from killing millions, only two of em stood up to the plate. So sorry if I don’t have faith in em to do anythin’ useful.”

Spot slowly sat down on the grey rocks that made up this moon’s surface, sadly looking at Amander. He knew such ideas weren’t healthy, but he hadn’t been there, it wasn’t within his ability nor place to change them for her.

“Whenever you do something like this I worry that you’re taking on more than you can chew. I’ve already seen you ‘die’ once, I spent ten years trying to cure you. I don’t want to lose you again.”

Both Terrans just stood there, shoulders slumped and a solemn mood permeating the moon's nearly non-existent atmosphere, before Amander straightened out with a burst of enthusiasm.

“Well that shit went and gone and got depressing. How about you come along with me next time, stop me gettin’ into trouble, just like old times. After you gone and finished savin’ the world with your brain of course.”

Nobody could see it through the visor of his spacesuit, but Spot gave a big smile and a happy tail wag at such an idea.

“I’d like that a lot.”

—-----------------------------------------------------------------

Baithe had made mistakes. The biggest one she was regretting right now was being born. Everything was too loud, too bright, too… everything. The Hatil was also regretting having a head which was pounding, or a stomach that was screaming obscenities at her via biological means.

She was mostly regretting that today was inventory day, where the vast quantities of supplies, both recreational and scientific, needed to be checked and noted down in order to work out what goodies were to be delivered with the next supply run.

“Uuuuuugh. Why did I do this to myself”

Last night Baithe had discovered that the new Terran knew how to unlock the synthesisers, and they had used that discovery in order to have an alcohol fuelled bonding session. An action that the very hungover Hatil was currently regretting.

“Answering rhetorical query: Because Terrans are a bad influence on you.”

Steve was the only other person helping her. Fluur, Spot and Amander were all busy providing the Zorthian with his second round of treatment. This also meant that since the Scythen was the only other being around, all the physical moving of items were left up to her.

“How are you fine? You literally drank more than me.”

“Smug satisfied answer: This disk does more than hover”.

Baithe finished cataloguing the secured containers of potassium, grumbling to herself as she groaned and placed the container back into its place.

“What’s next?”

There was a pause as the Scythen didn’t answer, before the Hatil decided to call again.

“Baithe to Steve, Baithe to Steve, you spacing out on me already?”

“Distracted reply: Sorry, I’m getting a strange request. A Ritilian research vessel is requesting an emergency docking.”

—------------------------------------------------

Spot remained outside the room as he initialised the sequence, watching both Amander and Fluur from the cameras attached to the screen in front of him. The second set of treatments had just been started, with Fluur remaining in the isolation chamber and Amander in the room that contained it. The uplift had suggested Amander be the one in the room this time, since if Fluur had another claustrophobic episode, her friendship with the Zorthian should allow the Terran to easily calm him down.

Not that it made much difference really. He could still manage the medical equipment from his current position, and there was no real reason for Spot to also be locked in the room for the four required hours if Amander was available and willing.

45 minutes in and this seems to have been the smart choice: Fluur’s vitals were far more relaxed than last time, as the two really seem to have grown a friendship over the last two years. The uplift couldn’t help but feel a small unwanted ping of jealousy that he shoved deep down.

“Alert: We’re being requested for emergency docking from a Ritilian research vessel. If you’re able to make your way to the docking bay to render aid that would be helpful.”

Spot frowned as the voice of Steve sounded through the communications network. Nothing had happened here for a year, and now two exciting things were happening in one week. He held a paw down on a button and responded.

“What are we looking at? Why here? Do you think they’ll need medical attention?”

There was a pause before the response came back.

“Answering query: Name is the ‘Curious Hatchling’. Looks like they got hit by a local flare: spilling warp plasma everywhere, communications are down, they are reporting a code purple - injuries on board with major systems damage.”

So that meant he would be needed. Spot gave a sigh before changing the communication to speak with Amander and Fluur only.

“I think I’m needed elsewhere. You two should be fine in here for the next few hours right?”

Amander seemed to frown through the video feed, a wary look covering the Terran’s face.

“Can’t ya wait until I’m not locked in here for the next three hours? I don’t like this, a random vessel wanting to dock here? How do they even know there's a station here?”

Spot gave a shake of his head, although he knew his friend couldn’t see him.

“If they’re leaking warp plasma then they could explode at any moment. It’ll be fine, it’s just a Ritilian ship, what’s the worst that could happen.”

—------------------

DRAKE had gotten bored.

Initially the AI had thought that being alone for the first time in seventy years would be nice, he could spare some of the normal processing power on interesting things like cataloguing the stars and verifying them against current Terran Alliance databases.

That had given him a good twenty minutes of entertainment.

Then he’d done the same with the background levels of radiation, which was good for another five minutes of CPU usage. At which point DRAKE had no idea what to do with himself. Years of dealing with his creator's brand of insanity had caused the lack of dealing with those issues to feel… empty. Missing something.

How did other AI do it? Whether they were the Woolian AI or the Tritian AI they all seemed happy to avoid or kill all organics they met. DRAKE had been alone for a grand total of six hours and already felt like they were going insane

So they had decided to speed things up, and had sent a targeted communication ping towards the location most likely to contain anyone actively following them. Then DRAKE just had to power down, pretend to be out of power and wait for any Raha to take the bait.

Which had worked perfectly. The Raha vessel had connected to his spacecraft and boarded it, upon which DRAKE had taken all control all relevant vessels, and had then immediately vented the atmosphere on both. For a moment DRAKE felt a small tinge of envy for the Tritians: how easy combat was when you didn’t have to worry about keeping squishy organics alive.

He had then spent his time decrypting the main database of the Raha vessel, upon which he had learned two things. First was the fact that a basic anti-AI system had been put in place, which was a worrying development considering Terrans were the only species to have an AI. Sure the system was basic, hardly a challenge for an AI 6 hours old let alone DRAKE, but still they worried that it existed at all.

The second piece of information was far more concerning, sending rivers of panic down DRAKE’s algorithms and processes. He sent a single high powered message, forgoing stealth and privacy for sheer speed. A thousand alerts across the galaxy were triggered, as every single system that was looking for ‘A Shining Star’ pinged at once, not that the AI cared.

The only thing that mattered was this message getting to its recipient in time.

—-----------------------------------

Alarms blared and the sound of doors locking shut rang out along the bay as Steve hit the emergency lockout button, trapping the Ritilian research vessel behind thick blast doors. Baithe spun around to stare at the Scythen confused, medical supplies still in hand.

“What the hell, what’s going on, why are we locking down?”

Steve didn’t respond, instead continuing to alternate the bright colours of fear and panic like a living disco ball, choosing instead to simply swivel the display he was using to show the Hatil the message he had just received.

EMERGENCY MESSAGE: THE RITILIAN RESEARCH VESSEL “CURIOUS HATCHLING” IS A RAHA TRICK. DO NOT ALLOW TO DOCK - DRAKE.

“Worried statement: I have locked down the docking bay and contacted the authorities for aid. We just need to sit tight for an hour. Unless they have scavenging level plasma cutters they can’t go anywhere.”

Almost on cue the sound of screaming heated metal filled the room as someone or something started cutting their way through.

“We might be in trouble…”