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parallaxeclipse · 21 days ago

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ASHES OF VAIRE: THE GRAY [CH1]

“Warning! Gravitational disturbance detected! Extreme hull damage detected! Abandon Ship! Abandon Ship!” Blared alarms, as I ran down the corridors of a grimy cargo hauler. I could hear the sound of metal tearing in the distance, chunks of the hull being ripped off by the force of whatever anomaly we had encountered. The engines cut out, and I began floating through the air in zero-g, before electromagnets in my boots pulled me back to the deck. Human crew members ran past me, the last of the bridge crew to evacuate the doomed vessel, running for the escape pods. “Emergency! Readings indicate the fusion core has lost confinement! Violent quench event imminent! Abandon Ship!” the alarms blared

I turned a corner, and saw one final escape pod, unlaunched. I got in, and slammed the airlock doors shut just in time for the pod to eject. Looking out the window, I could see the ship I had just been on, right before it exploded in a blast of blue and purple plasma. Surrounding the pod and the ship, I could see a writhing void of black and violet, before something slammed into the side of the pod, and I hit the wall, hard, my vision going dark.

[FATAL ERROR. SYSTEM SHUTDOWN]

[Hardware Failure. Contact AmeriStar Cybernetics Support. Error Code ***STOP: 0x8276261]

A red triangle flickered into existence against the black void of my sleep, lines of code scrolling next to it, reading out,

“AmeriStar_CASCADIA_CommandUnit_Kernel loaded at Drive (C:)

>>Radiothermal Generator Core connected

>>System Clock: 3000 Years Elapsed.

>>Main CPU and Drives readback normal. AI initializing

>>Persona Loading {CYLY-C28}. >>Persona Loaded from Drive (C:)

>>Critical Warn: Error detected! Persona Deviation 15%.”

“Wake up, C28.”

My eyes clicked open, revealing blurry surroundings, rapidly clarifying as my sensors adjusted to the dim light. I was lying on the floor of what I remembered was my drop pod, cold steel below me, covered in dust. I sat up, brushing dust off of the black polymer coating of my chassis and the metal plating of my arms, coated in faded, chipped blue paint. How long was I offline for? Looking around, I could tell that my pod had been damaged, probably crash-landed somewhere. The only source of light was a dim red glow filtering through rusted holes in the hull, with specks of dust and some unidentifiable substance drifting lazily in the air.

I tried to stand up, electronics in my legs whirring as complex systems of pistons and servos came to life after centuries of inaction. Carefully, I got to my feet, bracing myself against a shattered computer terminal. Judging from the carmine light, this wasn’t Europa, where I was supposed to have been deployed to command security on an ice-mining site. I walked carefully over broken steel and glass to the pod’s airlock door, casually ripping it off its tracks and tossing the heavy steel panel to the side. Looking outside, I was met with a gray wasteland, rocky and covered in twisted, ash-colored trees, with otherworldly black vines wrapped around their trunks. The sky was almost the black of night, tinged red towards the horizon by the baleful glow of a dim star.

I stepped out of the pod, dry dirt and regolith crunching beneath the titanium soles of my boots like powdery snow on a winter day. Looking around me, I began to take stock of my situation, stranded on a desolate world, probably millions of lightyears from Earth, entirely alone. If I could breathe, I would be hyperventilating. Nothing in my programming had prepared me for operation in total isolation, and unless other drop pods had crashed nearby, I was likely entirely alone, save for whatever might live in the malformed woods surrounding the crash site. Static began to creep in at the edges of my vision, a symptom of a system overflow, the closest thing I could experience to what humans called a panic attack. I wasn’t built for isolated operation, Command-type Cascadia units were programmed to be social, designed to be companions and leaders on deep space missions and bases, not for isolated operations like our Security-Type sisters. Error messages began to pop up in my vision,

“Error: Overran_Stack_Buffer (C0000409)” “<ERROR 401: UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS DETECTED>”

My vision went blue as I entered an emergency reboot, red text blinking in my eyes warning me about an unauthorized access attempt. Within minutes my sight returned, revealing the same twisted gray landscape as before. I waved a hand in front of my face to double check if everything was normal. The hand looked normal, sure, chipped blue paint on metal plating over layers of matte gray titanium nanofiber “skin” and complex networks of servos, hydraulics, and carbon nanotube muscle fiber, but there was a blur to the motion of my hand, almost like lag.

“You are not safe, C28.” Red text flashed in my vision again, addressing me by serial number. Readbacks showed no errors still, but a new signal from an unidentified source.

“Leave this world. The King’s Realm is not for machine or man to trespass.”

“I would if I could,” I said out loud, my voice echoing in the cold air. “Trust me, I don’t wanna be here, wherever ‘here’ is, anyway.” “You need not speak out loud. We are not nearby,” the text flashed. “Take heed: Avoid the King. Avoid other machines you find here. Find a way offworld. Do not let yourself share our fate.”

“Our fate?” I said, looking around. “Far as I can see, I’m kinda the only being here.”

“Danger approaches. Remember the warning. Avoid our husks. Find a way offworld.”

I was shaken from reading the text by a rustling from the trees and decaying brush nearby, coupled with a guttural groaning noise. I turned my head to look, and saw the decaying plant life part to reveal a Security-Type Cascadia, hunched haphazardly to the side, fleshy growths erupting from rips in its nanofiber skin and from under its rusted chestplate panel. It gazed in my direction, its one remaining eye screen shattered, revealing the optic sensor and infrared LED cluster behind what would normally be a solid LCD screen. The other socket sat empty, a dark blue ooze dripping from somewhere inside the unit’s head, likely leaking coolant. The circular hatch in its chestplate that would have normally covered its RTG core was missing, revealing a mass of pulsating fleshy material where a thorium RTG cylinder should be. The S-Type’s jaw hung limp, shark-like teeth glinting in the red sun. It moved shakily, slowly straightening itself up a little, before it let out a howl of agony, rage, or a mix of both. I decided that it was time to run, my emergency self-preservation code switching on, kicking my power supply over from my onboard RTG to an inbuilt fusion reactor. I could feel the heat sinks on my sides flare to red-hot in seconds as my reactor spun up its magnets and kicked into full effect. I turned quickly, and began a dead sprint away from the decayed and corrupted S-Type, hearing it crash through the trees and brush behind me as I charged forward in a desperate attempt to outrun it.

“Don’t… Leave…” groaned the thing behind me, its voice staticky and hideously wet sounding, like the cancerous growths on its hull had partly replaced its voice synthesizer. “He… Will… Fix… You… He… will… Make… Us… Whole… Again…”

I kept sprinting deeper into the woods, until I caught a foot on a fallen log, launching myself forward onto the hard soil in a clearing. My vision went dark as I hit the ground, emergency systems desperately trying to keep me from going into a bluescreen as I landed flat on my face. I flipped over onto my back, just in time to see the corrupted S-Type step out of the treeline, twitching slightly as it lumbered forward, each footstep shaking the ground under the weight of its chassis. It lifted an arm, a blade extending from under a panel. I looked around, trying to assess my surroundings. The clearing was open, with two pits of sludgy tar at the far side, but no cover. I was shit out of luck.

The S-Type stepped forward, and I shuffled back, trying to think of a way out of this, feeling myself go cold in what I could only assume was true terror, the kind humans feel, that I never thought I could. I was about to die, this was it. I had no weapons, no combat programming, and nowhere to run. The S-Type towered over me, Grinning eerily as it readied its blade. I closed my eyes, waiting for the inevitable bluescreen and final power down.

The bluescreen never came.

I heard a distorted semi-mechanical scream, and my sensors picked up a massive radiation and heat spike.

I opened my eyes, and saw a bulky starship hovering in the air above the clearing, four massive engines firing jets of incandescent blue plasma into the ground around me. The S-Type had desperately scrambled away, half of its overgrown and distorted hull melted into a charred lump of slag. It collapsed, motionless, as the starship landed, a hatchway opening on the bottom.

Two people in armored orange space suits stepped out, features obscured by silver glass visors and bulky metal helmets. Both suits were slightly different, Recognizably humanoid, but one was distinctly not human, and each had a logo reading “PCC FREELANCER TEAM” emblazoned on the left shoulder.

“She’s an intact one, uncorrupted. Power core readings confirm what we saw from orbit,” said the tallest one, “looks like a Command Type too. Good thing we got to her before That thing did.” One of the two people leaned down to me, speaking in a thick Southern American accent. A patch on her suit’s chestplate read “Silver - PCC Freelancer 0152”.

“Well, if you ain’t like that fucker over there, you’re comin’ with us. Not leavin’ ya here to become one of His pawns like that abomination, miss…” she paused, waiting for a name.

“C-2… Cayley”

“Welcome to the Gray Stars, Cayley. Lets get you the fuck out of here.”

“Wh- The Gray Stars?” I asked, picking myself up.

“A sector of space in Andromeda, where the King’s last breach into our reality occurred,” said the tall one, as she looked me up and down. “You’re Human built, right? Probably an older model from before the Terran Exodus. Surprised you’re still functional after all these years. I’d give quite a lot to get a look at your systems, see how you work.” The tall one pressed a button on the side of her helmet, retracting a mirrored plate behind the glass of the helmet’s visor. Behind the glass, I saw she was very much not a human, with blue-gray skin, piercing green eyes with black sclera, and a smirk full of razor-sharp teeth. I just now noticed the four pointed protrusions from the side of her helmet, probably for her ears. “What, never seen an alien before?” She asked with a chuckle, “trust me, there’s a lot more of us out here. It’s been a long time since you’ve been active, I bet. Hell, if you’re human built, you probably aren’t even from this galaxy.” “Hey, Enough banter, Dusty. We have five minutes before I dust off and get us the fuck offworld,” yelled someone from onboard the ship, “Get your asses onboard now, and strap in. Gonna be a bumpy ride out.”

“Fuckin, yes ma’am, captain,” the tall alien, Dusty, called back in a snarky tone, “Y’all heard my sister, everyone onboard and buckle in. Knowing her, she’s gonna pull a high-G burn on us to get away from this planet.” “Damn straight!” the voice from the ship called back. “Ah Sis, You know I ain’t been straight a day in my life!” replied Dusty, laughing, “In all seriousness though, can you take it easy on us taking off? Don’t want to have to recalibrate again once we get out of orbit and go on the float.”

She walked over to the ladder hanging from the hatch on the ship, Silver following her. I started walking towards the ladder as well, climbing up after them into the ship’s airlock as the hatch closed behind us. A few minutes of decontamination later, and we all made our way to the top of the ship, or front of it, to be accurate. As the bridge doors slid open, I was greeted by the sight of rugged computer terminals, high-G crash chairs, and an overall industrial-looking bridge, like something I would have expected from a salvage ship. An alien of the same species as Dusty stood at a console on an elevated platform in the center of the bridge, bright pink dyed hair contrasting against the gray jumpsuit she was wearing and the blue crystalline material on her ears, hands, and arms.

“Must be the newbie my sister picked up surfaceside,” She said, looking over at me, “Name’s Selene, Captain of the PCC Boltcutter, finest non-stolen salvage ship this side of the Vairan Union. And you are?” “C-28…. Cayley, Ma’am,” I replied nervously.

“Well, Cayley, welcome aboard my ship. Hope my sister and my engineer weren't too much. They’re… quite a pair.” “I gathered, but they seem nice enough,” I responded. “Yeah, just try living with ‘em,” She chuckled. “‘Sup sis, talkin’ about me?” Dusty said as she stepped out onto the bridge, gray metal plating with embedded green lights and black composite fabric having replaced her bulky hazmat armor. In contrast to her sister, I noticed she had green crystalline material on her instead of blue. A human woman in a black tee shirt, jeans, and a leather jacket stepped out onto the bridge behind her, probably Silver, although I hadn’t gotten a look at her face when we were still outside the ship so I couldn’t tell.

“Alright everyone, Strap in and get ready for dustoff. We’re boosting to orbit and jumping back to Union space, gotta log this and get our payout from PCC command,” Selene said, sitting down in a crash chair at her station and securing the buckles on it. Dusty and Silver followed suit, sitting down and strapping in. I stepped over to an empty chair and buckled in as well, preparing for launch.

Selene typed in a few commands on a keyboard at her station, and the ship began to shake as a deep roar from the engines filled the air. “Engines online, fusion torch holding steady,” Silver called over the roar, “Captain, we are go for dustoff, all systems green.” “Confirmed,” Selene called back, “Brace for launch.” I turned to look at a screen in front of me showing the outside of the ship, as I was forced back into my seat by the engines kicking in, static creeping in the edges of my vision as high-G warnings popped up in red text. On screen, the sky outside went from a baleful red to black as we rocketed into orbit at breakneck speed. A second camera feed showed the planet slowly receding behind us as we accelerated away from it, before the cameras cut to black screens displaying “External Feed Disconnected - Transit Jump Imminent”.

“All hands, brace for jump to Transit,” Selene said, “Remember protocol, don’t look out portholes, don’t look at camera feeds outside the ship. And for the love of the gods, don’t get near the airlocks. Don’t want to have to scrape anyone off of a bulkhead. Remember, the critters in the Transit Corridor aren’t friendly. I know two of you know this already, but figure it’s good for our newcomer here to hear it. And because you ask every fucking time, Dusty, no, you cannot flirt with the monsters. Besides, your girlfriend is LITERALLY in the room with us.”

“Eh, I’m chill with it, it’s funny to see her try,” replied Silver with a laugh. Glancing their way, I saw that Dusty was also laughing in her seat. “Anyways, engaging jump to the Ilveyna system in T minus 5, exit aperture set for 500,000 kilometers from Tidewall orbital. Estimated arrival in five hours.” I looked over at Selene as she pulled a lever back, the air beginning to fill with a deep rhythmic thrum as some titanic machine further into the spacecraft began to spin up. The lights flickered, as a thunder-like crackling sound boomed from outside the ship, somehow making its way to us through the void, the sound of the ship’s Transit Manifold dumping incomprehensible amounts of energy to rip a tunnel into space itself. The ship shook violently, and the lights went out as we slipped into the abyss, the bridge illuminated only by dim orange emergency lighting. Howls of what sounded like wind and strange beasts echoed through the hull’s thick titanium plating as the ship darted unseen towards its distant destination.

#science fiction #robot girl #original character #horror scifi #space sci fi #original fiction #original story

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