Phoenyx Chronicles

[Bacchante]

Prologue: New Earth and the Invasion

What makes a man? I have met those who thought it was a matter of DNA, genetics and the like. I have met those who think that being a ‘man’ is a relative term for a tough person. A man’s man, as it were. In my travels I have found that a man is an intangible, impossible to categorize or become. I am certainly no man, unless you go by the most basic requirements vis a vis, maleness. I have learned one thing on my journey. Humanity, manhood, is not a requirement for heroism.

It is coming for me. Even as I say this I know I am doomed. I am bleeding heavily from my wounds and the creature will soon be within the room. I will defeat it the only way I know. I have set up the compound’s communication systems so that they will beam this transmission to every sentient world for light-years. Once people know the truth, they shall be free of it. All of us, Ky’Ran, Humans and other races, will be free from its tyranny. This is my memories of the war, compiled and transmitted to you. The actual process will take but a moment and after that, the thing will have me. Indeed by the time you hear this I will likely be no more.

Humans always believed themselves to be the dominant race on Earth. In time we came to believe that we were the only race in the universe that truly mattered. Wonders unknown to mortals were available to us. Teleportation, Cold Fusion, Immense Bio-Mechanical cites spanning the globe and tentative contacts with other, less advanced, races. Then one day the Ky’Ran came. They appeared with no warning; touching down all over the world. Asia, Africa, The British Colonies and The American Republic: all of the major continents were attacked. We tried to fight of course. We are Human after all. So our armies marched against these foes. It seemed easy, we outnumbered them a hundred to one. One million human soldiers marched that month.

Not one was ever seen again.

That’s how they got their nickname, the Nightmares. They had a special ability you see. Through a mix of psychic abilities the Nightmares are able to take your worst fear and make it take form in front of your eyes. Mostly they were just illusions, but some really powerful Nightmares could make them into physical beings. It’s hard to fight when your worst fear is bearing down on you. So with a combination of fear, monsters and various other weapons our armies were wiped out. The countries they landed on evacuated the areas where those… things had arrived and emptied their considerable nuclear arsenals onto the Nightmares. The primitive nuclear weapons had no effect. They were stopped by powerful shields and the fallout was absorbed to be used as power. Everyone just gave up at that point.

Well, almost everyone. One country had a bit more sense. The whole of New Zealand, which at that time included Australia and a good portion of the Pacific Islands, climbed onboard ships and flew off as fast as they could. Other countries followed their example and soon Earth was undergoing a mass emigration. That first day, when no more ships could take off, was when we started our new calendar. The year zero A.N.

After Nightmare.

It was tough at first. We lost many ships and many more people. We appealed to our few allied races but they turned on us when the Nightmares threatened them. In the end, what saved us was our ingenuity. It turned out that one planet was still free and unafraid. They had super-powerful energy shields, strong enough to repel all but the largest of Ky'Ran attacks. And the larger attacks could be countered by a planet wide stealth field that hid their technology and masked their planet. They couldn't offer us sanctuary, as their stealth field wouldn't work on us, but they gave us what we needed. Information.

Like the Free American Coalition and National Republic of Asia of New, or Old, Earth the Ky'Ran were very wasteful. They had one planet that was essentially a giant dumping ground for any outdated technology. Since they had an odd idea of outdated, at times we were only months or even days down the research tree. Of course at others we were seriously outclassed.

But I must be boring you now. You only need to know the basics to really understand. North Zone is deep underground in the dump. It is closer to the north of the planet, obviously. South Zone is further south, also obvious, and closer to the surface. It is the staging ground between North Isle and the Island Ports. The Island Ports move around as they need to be close to the surface. Tunnels between them and South Isle enable the launching of ships.

Time to begin in truth. To Humans who read this: Have Faith, because that breeds Hope, and Hope can never be destroyed. To Ky'Ran: See how you have been oppressed and decide whether or not you want to treat others like you have been. To the rest: Read this, learn and do not make our mistakes.

My name is Phoenyx and this is my Chronicle. From the ashes let unity rise.

[Bacchante]

Chapter One: Legends

If you asked around trying to find out about Phoenyx you would hear stories. Lots of stories. You’d hear how he defeated this captain or destroyed that ship or liberated those slaves as well as tales of how many Ky’Ran he has killed, how many fighters shot down, how many bounties collected on. Now most people would merely be awed and go, “Wow, he sounds great.” But truth is, he’s not the real legend. Nobody knows where he came from, or who he is. Even the name, Phoenyx, is an affectation. He assumed a title that people can believe in. Ask anyone who’s spouting his praises exactly where he came from and all you’ll get is a confused look and a reply along the lines of, “He was always there.”

Phoenyx is not a name. It is, as I said, a title. Delivered unto the next generation of our family, gifted to whoever has red hair and blue eyes. A bit of DNA alteration, some facial reconstruction and voila! Phoenyx is resurrected.

I say this because you might note during my tale how people talk about things he apparently did centuries ago. They think he is invincible, that he can live forever. Then they meet him and… well it is a disappointment. The current Phoenyx is, in his own words, “A damn good mechanic and not much else.” But people still believe. Phoenyx is a psychological weapon against the Ky’Ran, a beacon of hope, a liberator.

He’s also me.

Disappointing, right?

I am not a warrior Phoenyx. There have been plenty of those throughout our history, each accomplishing greater things. Too great, maybe, for me to live up to. Now people have lost faith. We became too much of a legend, so much that we turned into a myth. Nobody lives forever, not even as a story. I tell people my name and they go, “Oh, that’s nice. Named for the story?” Pretty sad really.

Enough of my waxing philosophical. You want my story, don’t you? Well I have plenty of time. In the time it has taken me to record this an electron will circle its atom once. This technology is beyond anything I’ve ever seen. I could put my whole life on it. Maybe I will, just for something to do.

In any case, I worked on a SL-A Class ship called the Remora. SL-A means Stealth Leeching-Assassination. Basically we hide in the wreckage of recently destroyed Ky’Ran vessels, waiting for something to respond to the distress calls. Then we attach to the underbelly and break in, killing the pilot staff and flushing the atmosphere. Afterwards we download the database, loot any decent tech and then rig the ship’s core for detonation when somebody docks. We activate the distress call but put in a coded frequency that Ky’Ran can’t pick up with their ears, or instruments. All human ships now have a scanner on their radio that can pick it up though, so they steer clear.

That’s where this whole mess started, on a Ky’Ran vessel. They are mean things, slow and deadly. Ky’Ran lack decent subspace engines so their ships move slowly but their superspace ones... Wow, is all I say. We can’t understand exactly how they work but essentially they gather enough energy in one place to tear through the fabric of our dimension and into another one. Time is different there. Then they move to where they want to go and pop back in. Only one in five-hundred jumps ends up losing a ship.

So anyway, you have this thing that basically looks like a really stretched out egg only with a whole lot of symmetrical bumps. What those bumps contain depends on the vessel and the captain. Might be a hatch, might be an escape pod, might be a death ray. You never know until it opens and you’re looking down the barrel of the meanest weapon this side of the Core.

This particular egg was the size of a football field and contained enough firepower to level a continent. At least, we hoped so. If it was what we thought then this would be a very easy payday for us. Ky’Ran destroyers have their control rooms right near the bottom, very easy to reach. We could be done and out of here in three days, max. However, you will soon notice one important fact.

The universe hates me.

The destroyer had come out of Superspace about ten or so klicks coreward from us, and another few turnward. For all you non-pilots that means ten klicks toward the core and three klicks in the direction the galaxy is turning. For the rest of you non-soldiers a klick is equivalent to an old earth kilometre, perhaps a sixth of a mile. Up and down are fairly arbitrary in space but relative to us we were pretty level.

We were in near total silence, sitting around in the galley playing cards by phosphorescence. Kibo, Cecil’s floating pink puffball that he called a pet, was giving off a soothing glow for us to play by. Cecil was winning. That man has the best poker face I ever saw. He’s not a white nerd as his name would suggest, a cruel orphanage named him Cecil. He’s actually a six and a half foot tall man of Polynesian origins and massively muscled. He’s the assistant mechanic and cook. Makes a mean tofu cake.

Sill was losing, as is normal for him. He tastes on the left when he’s bluffing, and we all know it. None of us have the heart to tell him because it earns us so much cash. He’s a snake-hybrid, a mixture of human and reptilian DNA. He did it for the senses, being able to feel through vibrations and ‘taste’ scents in the air makes him a great tracker on bounty missions. He can also spit poison, pretty handy. Dry skin, so he has to pack a ton of moisturiser on long trips. He’s the navigator.

Mars had just higher amount of money than she had at the start. She always comes out just slightly up, never being one for risks. She’s our medic, with some alien blood somewhere down the line. She’s got dark red hair and a sort of veined appearance in the dark. Not ugly, its just that her blood vessels glow under her skin. Her eyes have a faint yellow luminescence that I find quite pretty. She can amplify heat and friction to conjure fire. Thus, she is assistant mechanic number two since we save a fortune on welding equipment with her around. Oh, and she takes an obscure joy in cauterizing any wounds we get during missions.

Frost was down, but not as bad as Sill. He’s the gunnery officer, in charge off on-ship weapons and the armoury. Lost one eye in a reactor explosion and had the other bleached white along with his hair. So know he has a robotic right eye that links directly to his favourite gun, ‘Charlotte’. No, I am not joking. He named his sniper rifle. We make him wear an eye patch during poker night, lead lined. I’m sure X-Rays don’t work like that but we take no chances with alien-tech.

Bog wasn’t playing, he was refereeing. Basically, he had the tazer. Not that it came to blows. Well, not that it came to blows that often. Anyway, he doesn’t gamble. Bog is our scientist, some strange alien which looks vaguely like a bald, grey-skinned monkey with four arms. He is older than he seems, and has a bunch of cybernetic implants. Scientist and computer whiz. He also reprograms the Captain’s alarm clock.

Captain was up by one. C.A.P Tain, Cornelius Alexander Percival Tain of the Tain Clan. With such a long name one might expect him to be a bureaucrat or a merchant, but the unfortunate initials sort of doomed him. He’d just folded. It was me, Sill and Cecil left.

Sill flicked his tongue out. Right side. He had a full house, minimum. He casually licked one of his fangs. Left one. That was a nervous habit I recognized. Straight flush. Cecil hadn’t spotted it yet. He was staring at me impassively. I stared back. He reached out and bid in another one percent.

In case you’re wondering, we were bidding percentage shares of the loot. We all got a basic one-eighth, with Captain getting two eighths ‘cause he’s the captain; but that was just our share from the bounty. We each got an even twelve percent of all loot sold, with sixteen percent going into our savings account for fuel and repairs. So we bid shares. Cecil bidding one whole percent either meant he was on to something good or he was trying to bluff us. I matched him, and Sill raised us each another half-percent. Cecil noticed Sill’s tooth cleaning and folded right then, showing an ace of hearts, ace of diamonds and three queens. I matched Sill’s bet. “Ssshow?” He said. We never knew whether his sibilance was caused by an actual speech defect or some obscure need to conform to stereotyping. It got worse if he was nervous or angry. I nodded and he showed.

A straight flush of hearts, king to nine. He smirked and reached for the tags in the centre. I coughed loudly and he glared at me. “What?” He snapped. I flashed him my cards. Four twos. He snorted loudly. Then I spread my hand to reveal the fifth.

Sill swore loudly and bashed the table. “Godsss be damned Phoenyx! You were ssscratching your left ear! You only did that when you were bluffing!” I shrugged. The others hated me sometimes, since I fake tells for long periods of time just for one decent payoff. So it was Sill on seven, Bog on twelve, Captain on thirteen, Frost on ten, Mars on twelve, Cecil on twelve and a half and me with seventeen and a half. I grinned and tossed a two-percent to Sill. He grumbled something about charity but caught it anyway and went off into the dark depths of the ship. “Play again?” I said, grinning. The others just glared at me.

A red light flashed. Proximity warning. The destroyer was close enough for us to start moving. We went to our posts silently. Nobody quite understood Ky’Ran tech, so we had no idea if they’d be able to detect sound in our craft. I know, I know; no sound in a vacuum and physics are all well and good but when you’re up against an advanced alien race which can make your worst fears a physical reality then you can decide what to do, okay?

I was on the docking station with Sill. We were in charge of attaching smoothly to the ship’s underbelly. Easier said than done. Our ship is flat on the top, since all Ky’Ran ships are weird and have gravity focused around the centre of the ship. It’s so we can break through more easily. Which on this occasion we managed without a hitch; a rarity in our business. Our ship adhered to the lower portion and the nanobot shell scanned and then replicated the hull readings, making us essentially part of the ship. We were even covered by the shield. Bog was typing on thin air, chittering voice commands in his native tongue. He spoke English suddenly and we all breathed in, “I’m in. Our power signal has been wiped from their sensors and logs. But...” We all froze in our silent exultation. “It’s not a destroyer. It’s... something else. I can’t tell what, the information has a flat block on it. Voice activated, no records kept, scanned against a pattern hidden behind an iris scan. No way in. All I have is a few recent flight records, sensors, a partial map and the name.”

Our hearts fell as one. If it was just some lousy transport ship then we’d get a much lower payoff, barring hostages. “Well then, what’s it called? We can check the databases.” That was the Captain. He was right, maybe we had some record of it. “Twisting Tale, as far as I can translate.” One heart among ours fell further. Mine. As the Captain began to type in the curious words I stopped him with a throat clearing. “It’s not Twisting Tale, sir. It’s Altered Legend. It’s an experimental ship. A spacefaring laboratory.” The others all stared at me in horror. I understood why. Ky’Ran research ships were the closest to hell a captured human could ever come.

Now we had to go into one.