Derelict 3, Chapter 6.

Chapter 6.

“This place is a dump,” Pixi complained as Ixlab carried them into his shop. Slater was about to shush him before realizing the voice was in his head and the Chixturax around him couldn’t hear Pixi or Slater when the spoke amongst themselves. The shop wasn’t too far from the restaurant, the signs in front claiming that its proprietor could fix any tech for a nominal fee.

“Be nice, Pixi, we can do some amazing things with junk,” Slater thought back to his split personality.

“Here you go, Slater. You can use any of the scrap in this back room, just avoid any of the bulkheads, they’re part of the station structure and will have been seeded with sensors,” Ixlab said.

“Thank you, Ixlab, I just need you to repair the drone and I can get to work,” Slater said. The Chixturax nodded, taking the damaged drone over to a work table where he began tinkering with it. Slater could feel the machine through is link, monitoring as Ixlab pried off damaged bits and repaired them with new components fashioned from the scrap around them. Slater was impressed that it only took the Chixturax tinker a few minutes to fix the damage from the fight. Ixlab left the storeroom after dropping the repaired drone next to Slater’s core.

His nanobots got to work on crafting the components needed to give the makeshift drone the ability to print new workers. While he waited, Slater looked around at his new home. The back room of the shop was of a modest size and the metal shelves that lined the walls were stacked with broken pieces of tech waiting to be repaired or scrapped. Unlike the Chixturax family running the restaurant, this Ixlab character didn’t seem all that keen on cleaning up, the place was filthy. Slater’s core was just lying on top of the sack they had used to haul him here, nestled in a small pile of parts.

The nanobots not working on the drone, were having a field day, absorbing materials, and extending their influence. Slater lost track of time as he focused his attention on the drone, completing the final touches as his microscopic army of machines made his will into reality. He felt better, and a quick scan of his core revealed he was continuing to recover.

Processing power is at 26%.

Current research: Locked, all processing resources are being used. Repair your core to reactivate research options.

Construction Drones: 1.

MOBS: none.

Fixed defenses: none.

XXXX: Locked.

His construction drone was ready, and its first order of business was to make a real version of itself for Slater to work with. The makeshift drone began printing, the process seemed much slower than he remembered. How much of the delay was due to his decrepit state, and how much was due to the makeshift nature of his first drone, Slater couldn’t say. Something was blanked out on his core information, he felt he should remember it, but like a lot of things, he couldn’t grasp onto the thought. The only answer to the mystery was to continue to repair himself. Once he healed up completely, Slater knew there was much more he could do.

It was almost painful waiting for the new drone to complete and when he finally felt the connection snap into place, he knew it was just like his old construction drones. The new drone went to work, first rebuilding the makeshift one into a real drone, then adding more to Slater’s workforce. When the tenth drone was complete, he could start to feel the strain on his core. There was a limit to what he could control, a limit that would expand exponentially once he was fully healed. For now, he kept the ten drones, setting them to work at gathering up salvage from the storage room and making a pair of reaper drones to finally give him the ability to defend himself.

When the reapers came online, him mind hurt from the strain, causing him to scrap a pair of construction drones to ease the burden. He could still feel the strain, like a dull headache, after scrapping the construction drones, but it was manageable. The reapers positioned themselves at the only door to the storeroom, ready to defend his core. His construction drones busied themselves with gathering up salvage and transforming it into dense resource bricks. Sadly, they hadn’t brought the gnome bodies over, he would have liked to have some biomass to process into MOBS if the need arose. The salvage inside the storeroom did contain trace biological elements, but nowhere near enough to craft even one of the small kobolds or gnomes.

“Slater, the elders have arrived and wish to speak to you,” Ixlab said, as he walked into the storage room for the first time since leaving Slater in there. The Chixturax tinker looked stunned as Slater’s construction drones went about their tasks and the reapers trained their weapons on him.

“This is impressive progress for the time you’ve been active in here, but I think we need your help sooner rather than later if we wish to earn enough credits to complete our plan. All the members of the hive has gathered their funds, but it is still insufficient to purchase access to even the smallest of the shipyard slips. If you can build defenders with weapons, it is time for you to play your part as a core shard,” Gramps said. The other five elders followed him into the storage room, all of them creepily silent, save for the one he called Gramps.

“How much money are we talking? How much is it to rent a construction dock in the shipyard?” Slater asked, completely unaware of the economics of the station. From what he saw of the transactions for the restaurant, a cheap meal cost about a tenth of a credit.

“Yes, we are partners, you should be aware of our financial situation,” Gramps said, showing a dataslate he had brought. Slater ordered over one of his construction drones to take the device and flip the screen for him. The Chixturax had gathered over 75,000 credits, and based on the cost of a meal, that was an impressive amount. The shipyards on Sarton Station rivaled that of a small, industrialized world, but most of the slips were geared toward repairs and overhauls of vessels, not new construction. The cheapest pair of shipbuilding slips rented at over a hundred thousand credits per week, and that didn’t count the fees for the cranes, construction equipment, and mandatory labor they would be forced to buy. Slater only needed a place to build his ships, all the other things were an unnecessary expense.

“Is there anywhere else we can rent, all I need is a simple loading pier to get started, and other than raw materials, I can do everything myself,” Slater informed them. He should have spent more time upfront explaining his needs for building a ship, but his brain wasn’t working so well at the time, not that it was doing all that great now.

“Hmm, that does open up possibilities. The basic station schematics are on my device if you wish to download them. I also have readings from a core shard if that will help you mimic one. I don’t know if you can adjust your energy signature and visual appearance, but I was hoping that between your abilities and Ixlab’s skills at crafting, we can pass you off as a new shard that the Chixturax have discovered.

“Let me see,” Slater said looking at the station and the core fragment energy signature.

“Wow, boss, this place is huge. I don’t think there’s anything to compare to this station in human space, that is, unless they’ve built something new in the last hundred years,” Pixi said as they took in the enormity of the place that they found themselves in. Most human stations were only there as a place for starships to unload their cargo where specialized transports would take it to the surface. There were also several designs for military stations in the works, from what he gleaned in the old databases he had raided, but they were smaller affairs designed to supplement the mobile defense forces protecting a planet or jump point.

Sarton Station was almost as big as some moons, the station was constructed in a series of giant rings around a central hub. The part they were currently in was at the bottom of the diagram, a smaller ring that was labeled The Dregs. It was part of the original construction, the older facilities containing rundown housing and businesses that catered to the poorer residents of the station. The further you made it up the station, up being a relative term in space, the larger the rings and the more impressive the facilities were. This arena where he was supposed to earn their money was smack dab in the middle of the station. Here in the dregs, there should be some place with access to space and a pier that could be used for a cheaper price.

“I think that I can mimic one of these core shards. It might not be exact, but if they don’t look too closely, we’ll be fine,” Slater advised. It looked like the energy signature was familiar to him, he had sensed something similar in the council vessels that housed the fragments of traitorous cores. While they talked, Ixlab began work on a shell to place over Slater’s core, making him resemble a core shard and also integrating communications devices so he could stay in contact with the Chixturax while he was inside the arena.

“Good, we leave as soon as you are ready and take you to the arena. Once there, you will be evaluated and given a small section to work with. The better we do, the more area we will be granted and with the more difficult challenges, come greater rewards. We can only bring a few crates of supplies to start with so prioritize what you wish to bring with you,” Gramps said, indicating Slater’s drones and the growing pile of salvage bricks.

Slater decided to prioritize a pair of construction drones, his reapers, as much of the raw salvage he had gathered, and after that, any additional construction drones he could fit in. Most of his construction drones would eventually be tasked with building their ships, so he was fine with leaving the bulk of them back here. The only other preparation he needed to make was to gather up his nanobots. It didn’t take them long and by the time some Chixturax workers arrived to crate up his drones and supplies, Slater was ready.

Gramps did away with his entourage of elders, only taking Ixlab and Hixrax with them to the central hub where the arena was located. Chixturax laborers would follow along in the service lifts to bring whatever number of supply crates they were allowed to take in, there was no use hauling all his stuff around if they were only going to have to haul it back to the dregs.

Slater’s nanobots expanded through the box he was in enough to allow him to see where they were going. A lift system hauled passengers among the different levels of the station, a fee charged based on how far they were going. The passengers’ station ID’s restricted access to certain rings, the wealthy didn’t want to have folks from the dregs stinking up the place. The arena ring was well decorated and featured many entertainment, shopping, and dining options. It reminded him of Las Vegas from his days back on earth. He had visited the town once or twice, and while the hotels and casinos were impressive, there was a seedy feeling that bad things were lurking just below the surface layer of glitz.

Bulkheads separated the arena portion of the ring from the rest of the station, you didn’t get a peek at the action unless you paid for it. Slater found his group walking toward a set of compartments with several armed guards in front of it. There was a mix of races, the majority being dwarves and orcs, along with a few gnolls thrown in. Gramps spoke to one of the guards, explaining why they were there, it didn’t look like the officials in charge of the arena were too keen on having visitors after hours. A quick check of his chronometer showed Slater it was considered the middle of the night at the station. He hoped that Gramps wasn’t blowing their chances by annoying the powers that be with his timing.

A female dwarf ushered them into the building, it looked like this place handled the administration for the arena, with people working late into the night. Slater figured they would end up in an office somewhere talking to an administrator, but instead, they were walked out the back of the office building and into a warehouse area, where a pair of dwarven guards armed with laser rifles stood watch over a giant humanoid bull wearing a suit and smoking a pipe.

“Hey, that’s a minotaur, you don’t see them out and about that much,” Pixi said. Slater remembered them from mythology and knew they existed in the universe, but seeing one was rare. It looked strong, and he wondered what it would take to get a few dead ones to experiment on, he would love to use them as shock troops for his Derelict.

“Ah, the elders of the Chixturax race, I hear you’ve brought a core shard you wish to see added to the games. Color me skeptical that your rather destitute race has acquired such an item, but I’m willing to take a look. After all, these core shards are becoming rarer and rarer, its not like they’re making any more of them with the council out of business,” the minotaur said. He was professional and well spoken, but the deep rumble of his voice put the Chixturax on edge.

“Administrator Bellis, as you said, we have brought a core shard for admission into the games and are willing to have your people examine it if you wish,” Gramps said, motioning Hixrax to set the box Slater was in on a dirty worktable near the minotaur. The administrator growled and waved over some more people that had been waiting in the shadows of the dark warehouse. Among the newcomers was a gnome wearing overalls that were festooned with various devices.

Grumbling to himself, the gnome opened Slater’s container and began scanning him. Slater didn’t know how powerful the scanner was, and the gnome had a perpetually angry scowl plastered on his face, which didn’t give Slater any clues as to what he was thinking. With a disgruntled huff, the gnome handed the scanner over to the administrator who read the results.

“A nice try, Chixturax, but this is no core shard. It is a fairly good fake though. Tell me, what was your scheme? Were you going to suit up some of your people as Derelict MOBS and have them fight the challengers or were you going to just take the money and run?” Bellis said as more guards arrived and surrounded their group.

“This is core shard, it was damaged, and the signal distorted by that damage, but it is the real thing. I stake my reputation on it,” Gramps said.

“A bug’s reputation is worthless to me. Your life, and the lives of your people are what you should be concerned with, not your reputation. I’ll cut a deal with you, pay me 50,000 to not kill you and dump your people into the arena as fodder for the games. After you pay, I’ll enter this glowing rock of yours into the beginner zone as a new core shard. If it performs as you claim, we’ll continue to let you live and even offer you a contract. Should it turn out you were trying to scam me, we’ll continue with the whole death and enslavement program I mentioned earlier. Do we have a deal, or should I just have you killed now for trying to cheat me and waste my time?” Administrator Bellis said.

Slater linked to his reaper drones. The crates they had brought with them were still in the service lift and hadn’t made it this level yet. He doubted they could engage all the guards in the place and live, but he wasn’t going to let some bull man kill the Chixturax without a fight. Slater waited as Gramps made strange sounds to himself that the translator couldn’t figure out.

“When our story proves true, will we receive our 50,000 credits back?” Gramps asked.

“Of course not, we’ll just consider that your entrance fee for the games and renumeration for the extra time this will all take. Don’t worry though, if your core performs as advertised, you’ll make more than that in no time,” Bellis said.

“I have no choice, as the elder of the Chixturax on station, we accept your offer,” Gramps said.

“Good, one of my people will show you where to take your core shard. As for the rest of you, make sure your people don’t take any sudden trips off the station until this is all sorted out,” Bellis advised. The minotaur left them there, taking most of the guards with him.

“Come with me, I am Quillisan and will be your arena advisor. One of you will need to be designated as the point of contact for all things related to your core shard, which of you will it be?” The dwarf that had led them into the building asked.

“Hixrax will take the lead on this,” Gramps said. Both Slater and Hixrax were a bit shocked over the choice. He had thought the elders would be in control, not a simple restaurant owner.

“Very well, follow me. Do you have any initial supply crates for your shard in route?” Quillisan asked. Hixrax nodded. “Good, I’ll show you the location for your core shard. You would normally be allocated ten of the standard sized transport crates worth of gear and resources for your shard start out with but given the suspicion over the true nature of your supposed core shard, you are only going to be allowed two. Your first match is considered an audition, pass the audition and you will be offered a contract, fail, and the punishments that Administrator Bellis outlined will go into effect,” the dwarf advised as it led them through a door at the back of the warehouse and into a service corridor.

Reinforced hatches were placed at intervals along the corridor, Slater guessed they led to the various core shards. The dwarf explained some of the rules as they walked. Slater would be given a set number of compartments to work with as well as a few hours to set things up before the first groups would be allowed to face the core shard’s challenge. As for the initial audition round, it would consist of a beginner group that wouldn’t normally be that much of threat to a core shard’s forces. The further the groups made it into Slater’s defenses before being killed or turned back, the worse the terms of the contract would be for the Chixturax. Should the initial group make it to his core room, he would have failed the audition.

Slater could feel his drones and reapers approaching, their crates had arrived on the arena level and were being taken toward his location. At one of the hatches, Quillisan entered a code, causing the hatch to swing open. Inside was Slater’s new home, at least until his ship was ready. A glowing podium had been mounted to the floor, ready for his core to be placed inside. Once Hixrax set his core into the podium, a metallic dome slammed closed over his core, and he began to feel strange. It was just like the feeling when the dwarves attached that band to his core just before he was sold. The copper-colored metal of the dome somehow hampered his core, causing him a constant ache, and weakening his link with the MOBS and construction drones.

Slater tried to fight off the effects but was only partially successful. Whatever this material was, it had been designed with Derelict’s in mind. Thankfully for Slater, he wasn’t a normal core, and despite the discomfort, he could still function. He looked around the compartment he was in, its bare walls were obviously not designed to provide him any advantage in the defense of his new territory.

“The restraint will keep the core shard inactive while we are inside. If this core shard is like the others, it will test the limits of what it can do and try to expand further than will be allow. We use the restraint dome to train them as to the limits of their territory, and the proper behavior we expect from them. They all seem to learn quickly that we are the masters over them,” Quillisan said, waiving in the Chixturax workers, Slater’s comm device still worked inside the dome and he quietly informed Hixrax of the crates he would need. One held a pair of construction drones, and the other held his reapers. Several resource bricks had been packed inside the empty spaces in each container, so he would have something to start building defenses with.

“Thank you for your time, Quillisan, are we free to leave?” Hixrax asked.

“Yes, you are not being detained in any way, when you are done here, secure the hatch behind you and a path will light up leading you to the exit. Have a wonderful day,” Quillisan said.

“Hey, somehow I don’t think that dwarf was being sincere when she wished us a wonderful day,” Pixi complained, stating the obvious.

“Hixrax, take the other crates back to Ixlab’s shop. Once we find a place to begin ship construction, I’ll be able to control them from here. Other than that, let me get to work. I don’t think we’ll have a whole lot of time before they begin our audition,” Slater said. The Chixturax left and Slater started to settle into what he desperately hoped were only temporary accommodations. He was itching to get on with building the newest version of the Franklin.

“What now, boss?” Pixi asked.

“Now, we take control of our territory and get our defenses online, we have some challengers to kill,” Slater said.