Karin dropped down another floor and took a suck out of the O2 bottle at her side. Her group of Crowners were moving slowly, their heavy rad-suits and oxygen-reclaimers making maneuvering tricky in zero-g, so she was moving on ahead and making sure the doors were open and damage was as expected. The heightened rad levels towards the sternward Spine made the Crowners nervous, probably the way it killed off their nanites when they leave their protective suits. Truth be told it made her somewhat nervous too, but she’d never admit it. She was assigned this task by the Glorious Stranger himself after all. Well, by one of the Inners, but that was effectively the same thing. Sure, the Inner in question had referred to the Stranger as the ‘Ratfaced Madman’, but everyone knew they were slightly unhinged. Something to do with their conditioning. Her mind was wandering again. This always happened when her body was dealing with excessive radiation, probably to take her mind off the godawful itch of cells regenerating. And now she was thinking about the itch and it was getting on her nerves and she couldn’t stop thinking about the-oh, there it is.
She turned and palmed the access port for the door she’d spent the past half hour making her way around. The panel beeped once and the door jerked partway open in a shower of sparks. It was enough for her to get through, but the Crowners and their equipment would be stuck cutting their way through with plasma torches. Unacceptable that. She sighed as a quiet voice appeared in her ear.
“Wet Cat, status update”
“Wet Cat here, status is itchy but fine. I’ve got a stuck door at 13-290-84. One panel took a lasbolt, overloaded the system. Please advise.”
“Breakers for 13 are at 13-278-81. Should be the next hallway clockwise. Looks like there’s a duct heading that way, though you’ll want to drop some weight if you go that route. If a hard reset doesn’t work then scavenge cable from conduit Red-13 and do a double bypass.”
“Acknowledged.”
Karin blinked, the walls fading as the superstructure of the ship superimposed itself over her vision. There, a grate covering a way into the ventilation system around the next corner. Another blink and she could see normally again. It was possible to move with the blueprint overlay, but doing so was an excellent way to fall down unmarked holes.
The speakers crackled to life as she went, making her jump. One would think five years of working in the Ossuary would’ve made her numb to that particular annoyance, but the static and semi-comprehensible whispers always managed to get to her.
“-why? Why? Why?”
“Not now, they’re on their-”
“-ill your fam-”
“Who turned out the-”
“-ere’s a power, there’s a power, in the hands of work-”
Karin shook her head and did her best to tune them out. Creepy? Yes, but she knew what they were and, as the Glorious Stranger said before stealing the Smithsonian, Knowing is Half the Battle. More troublesome was how the bursts of static interfered with her contact to the rest of the Outermost. If any more doors were broken she’d have to get creative with opening them which, in turn, would invariably lead to sharp words from the local Keeper. They were touchy about people cutting holes in their ship. That in mind she struggled with the grating for a solid two minutes before it finally popped off. The torch would’ve been faster, but rather harder to fix.
She took a quick breath from her O2 bottle, sucked in her stomach, and squeezed into the hole, satchel pulled along behind her. Superior in most ways the Inners may be, but they couldn’t do everything. She slowly squirmed through the duct system, dragging her satchel behind her. After five minutes of this she finally reached her destination, marked by a large red X overlaying her vision. She gingerly pulled her the lumpy, heavy package out of her satchel and molded it into a joint between two struts, the putty-like material taking on the appearance and shape of the joints it was stuck to. That was her last package of the day and she was glad to see it go. She didn’t pretend to understand the Stranger’s plans, from what she’d heard attempting to do so was a good way to drive oneself as mad as him, but she knew that it was probably the best one around. Probably.
The breaker box was easy to find and it only took a couple of quick cuts from her pocket-torch to remove the lock on it, revealing a mass of wires and switches. Her overlay lit up and labels appeared then disappeared as micro-motions in her eye dismissed them until only one remained. She flipped the switch and smiled at the faint crunch as the distant door forced itself the rest of the way open.
The return through the ducts was much faster, the missing weight making things easier. She got back just in time to meet the Crowner party, one of whom was prodding the still-sparking control panel. The lead one lowered their lasgun when they saw it was her. Their visor opened and the man smiled at her,
“You really shouldn’t disappear like that kid. You’re only supposed to guide us, not run on ahead.”
“I’m twenty eight you patronizing pig” Karin almost replied, to her surprise. It was no worse than she usually heard and was loads better than most. He wasn’t trying to cause offense and probably was just worried about her safety. She forced herself to smile back and spoke through her teeth at him instead, “Come on, we’re almost there.”
She then bounced on ahead before they could try and stop her. Two more corners and she was at the site of the damage. Looks like a Syndicate squad came across a group of Order goons beating a group of augments. She started checking over the bodies. Several of the Outermost had gone missing during the purge and one of her jobs was to find their bodies. She flipped one of the augments over and saw a vaguely familiar face. Stephen maybe? Stipan? She couldn’t remember. They danced once, back when they were kids. He was hardworking, always wanted to make everyone happy. He gave her a flower afterwards. It was purple. No, lavender, one of them. She could almost smell-
Karin shook her head violently, the whispers fading back into incomprehensibility. The man she was holding wasn’t anyone she knew, just a random stranger who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. A slight movement out of the corner of her eye made her whip around, sending the corpse spinning bow-wards until it bumped gently into a bulkhead. It was the Crowners, Mr Condescending up front with his low-intensity lasgun slung over his shoulder. She must’ve been really out of it for them to sneak up on her like that. Sloppy that, if they were some of the crazies she’d be dead already.
The thought was rather more troubling now than before. Maybe it was because of how much more real the threat was now, but she’d never actually worried about death before. Not even when that bulkhead sealed her in that leaky room for two hours, the air slowly being sucked into the hungry void, and her transmitter was busted from a scuffle with that Crowner boy. It was probably because of the Plan. The Glorious Stranger would need every Outermost, no, every Cascadian, for that’s what they were now for the Plan to succeed. Karin of the Cascade. The alliteration appealed to her. Karin of the Outermost was never felt quite right to her and now she was wondering why their guns were pointed at her. What? She started to raise her hands, but they were looking past her. One shouted something but she couldn’t hear it over the sudden burst of noise from the intercom.
“-ands belong to the dead”
“-ey won’t get aw-”
“-ire in the ho-”
“-ulu lies dreaming”
“-annot kill the Messi-”
“-and the Dead Keep them”
“Karin, DUCK!”
This last was a shout which sent her flying to the ceiling as her legs sent her flying upwards. She caught herself right as a sudden black cloud enveloped the corridor. Her brain instantly split into three distinct trains of thought as she clung to the ceiling.
The first was an analysis of her personal situation. She was alive and unharmed on the ceiling, the cloud ignoring her. Her comms were still down because of the whisper-static, so she couldn’t report back home. The lack of warning, burst of noise which disoriented and took out comms, and the overwhelming nature of the incident meant it had to be an attack. The attack wasn’t directed at her or she’d be dead already, but rather went for the armed Crowners. That meant it was targeting armed personnel. Barring a Syndicate betrayal, very unlikely, the only people who had reason to attack the Crowners were the Order of Man, but if that were the case she’d not have been spared. That meant a third party who wanted to secure the Spine for themselves.
The second was focused on the nature of the attack. Nanites? Were the Crowners using nanites to-no, they came from the wrong direction for it to be the Crowners, not unless they were attacking their own. The Syndicate and the Order seemed to prefer traditional weapons and neither would unveil a nanite hive unless they were desperate. The only other groups with the capability would be the Keepers, which would mean they were abandoning their pacifism.
The third focused on the voices. They were much more coherent than normal, hardly any static at all. The last especially, it had called for her by name and made her jump. The Stranger, she would bet her certification on it. He must’ve somehow gotten access to the coms and seen what was about to hap-, no that made no sense. The other voices though, it sounded like something she’d overheard a Keeper shout at a gang of particularly stupid teenagers when he was scaring them away. These lands belong to the dead and the dead keep them. They must not like people shooting up their home.
The thoughts rejoined as the cloud faded from view. The Keepers were shutting down the Ossuary, likely because of all the gun-toting crazies shooting holes in the engines and each other, and had repurposed the ship’s nanites to do so. This was confirmed when she saw that the Crowners were gone. In their place was a tall figure in the long, grey robes of a Keeper. They were watching her, well, facing her. The hoods made it hard to hard to tell. She cautiously stood up, facing the Keeper upside down, and raised one hand to her mouth and then to her heart, a greeting of respect she’d picked up during her time as an apprentice grease-monkey in the Ossuary. The hood ducked slightly, acknowledging the gesture, and a voice, low and gravelly came forth
“Outermost, you should leave this place”
She gave him a nervous half-smile and spoke carefully, “Sorry Keeper, I didn’t mean to intrude. I must ask, is the Ossuary being sealed from all?”
The hood moved slightly, something about it looking familiar, “Only those outsiders who bear arms and care not if they doom us all with their foolishness.”
Karin nodded, “Makes sense. Would it be alright if we keep helping? We’re a bit more durable than you fo-er, than your people when it comes to radiation and oxygen.” When the Keeper didn’t immediately respond she continued, “We’re all unarmed, you can check if you want.”
The Keeper’s hood twitched again, yes, she recognized that twitch anywhere, “That will not be necessary. Your help, while not needed, would be appreciated.”
Karin grinned, “Hey, we’re all in this together, right? Only crazy folks try blowing up the lifeboat when safeties on the horizon.”
“Indeed.” Then, without another word, the Keeper began to leave.
Karin shrugged and turned to leave herself, heading to the remnants of Breakwater, then paused and called over her shoulder, “Well, it was nice meeting you again, Scribe 78. Sorry about the door.”
The Keeper hesitated for a second and for a second she thought she heard a cut-off snort, but it kept going. Karin smiled again and continued back to the meeting hall. Things were going crazy all right and chaos was always the Glorious Stranger’s calling card. His will be done.