Derelict 3, Chapter 4.

Chapter 4.

The kids dragged the bodies of the gnomes behind the counter and covered them with a tarp. Slater had his nanobots to begin processing the biomass, which would not only hide the evidence of their death but also provide some biomass for future projects. Without drones to assist in the process, it was going to take a while. The days of reprocessing a room full of victims in minutes after a battle were gone, but for now, he would do what he could. As his core repaired itself, Slater could feel the area around him more clearly. When he started to move his influence deeper into the deck, he found it strangely resistant to his nanobots.

“Hey Pixi, why am I having trouble pushing my influence into the deck? Is it because my nanobot permeation is low?” Slater asked, not sure if the fragment of his own mind had any answers or not. Thinking about it, he did another sweep through his core, which once again confirmed no parasitic infestation.

“I’m not sure, let me take a look,” Pixi said. Slater could feel his core focus on the problem, working out what was taking place.

“Wow, that’s new. It looks like the bulkheads are created with some new alloy that resists the nanobots. I’m not sure yet how they’re doing it, but I can see some structures that might be sensors of some type woven into the metal. You might want to exert our influence in another direction for now,” Pixi said.

He was fine with that, there was still plenty of room for him to expand. His progress was slowed by the work on the bodies, but by the time the front door was opened again, Slater had moved to the wall between the front and back of the shop, where he could now see the storage and prep areas of the business. There was a lot of raw material here for him to work with, the only problem would be in finding some way to access space in order to build a ship, a process that would be difficult to accomplish without alerting the authorities on the station that a Derelict was eating up parts of their home.

“Slater, these are the elders of our hive, they will determine what you are and what our response shall be,” Hixrax said. The younger Chixturax left, taking the hint that the elders didn’t want or need their input. Slater watched as six new Chixturax silently entered the shop. The new arrivals spent some time peering at the food synthesizer, making Slater nervous while he waited for them to speak. He did note that the elders didn’t look that much different from Hixrax or the kids, it seemed that age left fewer visual cues on these creatures than it did on humans. They didn’t bother introducing themselves, so Slater thought he would start the conversation.

“I am Commodore Slater of the USS Franklin, it’s a pleasure to meet you all,” he offered.

“Would you mind opening the casing on this device so we can get a look at this supposed core. From the way it speaks it appears to be just an overactive interface, one that perhaps was installed in an incompatible device,” one of the elders said. This one was a bit easier to pick out. Of the six, it appeared to be the smallest, its limbs skinny and the eyes a bit duller colored, perhaps there were more visible aging cues if the looked close enough.

“I can do that for you,” Slater said, opening the top half of the machine. There was a bracket there that allowed access to the power core and now that the machine was completely part of his Derelict, it was no problem to open it on his own.

“Interesting,” the old Chixturax said.

“This is interesting as well,” one of the elder’s said, lifting back the tarp that covered the gnomish bodies. The view wasn’t a pleasant one as the reprocessing was going slowly, leaving a rather shocking display of gore.

“Can I at least have your names?” Slater asked.

“We are the elders, we are many and one,” the old guy said.

“Wow, that really cleared things up,” Pixi whispered sarcastically in his mind. His personality split was also starting to get annoyed with their poking and prodding.

“Bring in Ixlab and have him take a look at the drone,” the old one said. Hixrax opened the door and spoke to someone outside.

A new Chixturax entered, this one was much different than the others. Where the others had a smooth outer carapace, Ixlab’s looked like it had been through a war. There were gouges and cracks across his body with metal plates bolted on to cover the wounds. He also had only three of his four appendages remaining, the missing one looked to have been melted off. He walked straight over to the drone behind the counter and began examining it, clicking softly to himself the whole time, the translator unable to decipher his mutterings.

“This is the machine I cobbled together for the hiveling Kraxton earlier. It has been damaged, as we can all see, but this is different,” Ixlab said, using the stiff hairs on one of his limbs to lift the sharpened tips of the drone’s legs.

“Has it been modified?” An elder asked.

“It must have been, there were no combat protocols installed, and someone has taught it to fight if it did that,” Ixlab said, pointing toward the corpses.

“Can you repair it for me?” Slater asked.

“Sure, so long as the elders approve, are you the one that updated the coding for its combat ability?” Ixlab asked.

“Yes, I needed to defend myself and the kids,” Slater said.

“Interesting, I can see from your work,” Ixlab said, pulling a partially filled biomass brick from where Slater’s nanobots had hidden it behind the counter. “Yes, your work is good, too good for some simple program or even a basic AI. What are you?” Ixlab asked.

“I am Commodore Slater of the USS Franklin, once a human, and now a Derelict Core,” he repeated. Ixlab looked at him for some time, staring at his core as he thought. The Chixturax pulled various scanners from his pack running them over Slater’s core, the ruined drone, and the corpses of the gnomes.

“I greet you Commodore Slater of the USS Franklin; it is my unique pleasure to meet a Derelict for the first time. I’m sad to say that your Derelict is pretty unimpressive, given that you command only a portion of a small restaurant,” Ixlab said. Slater didn’t detect any sign of insult, the Chixturax was just stating his opinion and he could appreciate someone who was direct.

“Ixlab, you believe this is a Derelict?” An elder asked.

“Yes, it is my expert opinion he is either what he claims to be, or something new that nobody has encountered before. His core energy is strange and would not detect as a Derelict’s energy signature on most devices. I should add that, unlike all the core shards that have been scrounged up for the arena, he appears to be somewhat sane.

“Ha, somewhat sane, he just doesn’t know us very well,”Pixi joked. Slater ignored his split personality as he waited for the elder’s reactions.

“Your work has been invaluable, we thank you for your expertise, Ixlab. I think we’re in agreement. Somehow, against all the odds of it happening, a Derelict Core has been purchased by Hixrax and installed into the food synthesizer. Tell me Slater, are you the last of the council?” The elder asked.

“No, I am my own person, a condition that caused the council to try and hunt me down,” Slater said.

“Well, that’s a relief, the council has been gone a long time, and I think that of all the dangers you will face, the council is not one of them. Now that we believe you are who and what you claim to be, the question becomes, what do we do with you little Derelict?” The elder asked in a tone that made Slater uneasy.

“Sell it, it could provide enough for a ship of our own,” an elder offered.

“Any other opinions?” The oldest one asked.

“I have one,” Slater interjected. “Did I hear it right that you want to buy a ship?” Slater asked.

“Yes, our people desire a ship to return us to our homeworld, it is a long story, and not one we care to share with you at this time,” the oldest elder replied.

“Boss, how about we call that one Gramps since he won’t tell us his name, he seems like a Gramps,” Pixi offered.

“Works for me,” Slater replied.

“What type of ship do you want?” Slater asked.

“Whatever we can fit our entire hive into. I don’t expect we’ll find any good Chixturax ships for sale, but any large cargo hauler will suffice,” Gramps replied.

“I could make a ship for you, even one of your own designs, given you have some schematics for me to work with,” Slater offered.

“I’m sure you would love to build a new ship, but we have no desire to sail home in the belly of Derelict,” Gramps replied.

“No, I don’t mean my ship, I mean a ship of your own that you will crew and control. I’ve done this is the past for my fellow humans, and I can do it for you. I will create for you the most powerful Chixturax ship that has every crossed the stars,” Slater said.

“Boastful Derelict, we do not believe you. This is not possible for a Derelict to do; you can only build upon yourself. The Derelicts may be gone, but everyone still remembers that,” Gramps argued.

“I’m sure that the other Derelicts were restricted in what they could do, but I’m not like other Derelicts. I’m the only surviving one to be created from a human and one of the few that was able to defeat the council’s hold and destroy the parasite inside my mind. I am able to do whatever I can imagine, given enough time and resources,” Slater said. He really didn’t want to be sold off; he had a bad feeling about what would happen to him in the hands of anyone else.

“Elder, that might explain his strange energy signature, perhaps this one is more unique than we have thought possible,” Ixlab argued.

“Hmm, I don’t necessarily believe you, Slater, but perhaps we can work out something mutually beneficial that will also test your abilities. Tell me, how much raw material do you need to create a ship?” Gramps asked.

“It depends on how big you want your ship to be, and how big my ship will be. Whatever deal we cut, I need enough material to also build a ship of my own,” Slater said.

“This is Sarton Station, anything can be bought for a price, including enough materials to build two ships and the facility to construct them in,” Gramps said.

“Have Ixlab help me rebuild some drones and I can just print up whatever you need, I can turn raw materials into almost anything. Give me junk and I’ll make them into valuables for you to sell,” Slater said.

“Ha, did you think it would be that easy? Did you think you could just print up a batch of rare metals and buy whatever you wanted? If we started flooding the market with valuables, it would paint a target on the Chixturax. We would be attacked, kidnapped, assassinated, and extorted to find out the source of our wealth. Now, if you truly are a Derelict you could construct defenses inside this part of the station and protect the Chixturax, but that would signal to everyone what you are and bring even more death and destruction down upon us all,” Gramps said.

“So, since you’ve shot down the obvious way for us to earn money and resources for building our ships, I assume you have some other plan in mind?” Slater asked.

“Yes, a plan that will use your strengths and shield us both from too much attention and the problems that attention would bring until we’re ready to leave. We need money, and the quickest way to get money on Sarton Station is to participate in the games. Tell me, Slater, what do you know about core shards?” Gramps asked.

Slater’s memory was still patchy, but he did remember the council using core fragments to control some of the ships sent against him. The core fragment ships had controlled kill teams like the one Illissa had been a member of. If these core shards were anything like the fragments he encountered, they could control powerful forces, but would be limited in their reach and area of influence, unlike a true Derelict Core.

“I may have run into something similar; these core fragments were controlling ships and several kill teams for the council. Is this what you’re referring to?” Slater asked.

“Yes, I think they are the same, or at least similar. The remains of some of the Derelicts controlled by the council still retain a spark of what they once were. Typically, they are completely mad, but still possess some cunning and are always violent. The shards have been placed in a separate ring attached to the station that is called the arena. Challengers enter the areas controlled by the various shards and attempt to survive to a certain point. If they do, they are generously rewarded, but of course, the real money is made on the gambling. The inhabitants here will bet on anything related to the arena, typically they will bet on whether each group of challengers will survive or how far they will make it before turning back,” Gramps told him.

“So how does this help us build a pair of ships?” Slater asked.

“It will help because we will say you are a core shard. You’ll be given a test and if we pass, you’ll be housed in a small section of the arena and allowed to build your defenses. We’ll be paid as others challenge your section and as you grow in power, and I’m assuming you’ll grow in power as you acquire resources?” Gramps asked.

“Yes, that’s how a Derelict works,” Slater replied.

“Good, as you grow in power, other, higher ranked teams will try their luck against you. The higher ranked the team and the higher the views, the more credits we will earn, credits that will go into buying the raw materials to build our vessels,” Gramps said.

“Why don’t you just hide me away in some out of the way compartment, I can absorb resources and start building our ships a lot more easily that way instead of participating in some spectacle,” Slater argued, even though he had to admit the idea of facing challengers intrigued him. He was reminded of the Slaterdome and the fun he had creating the various contests designed to test out his MOBS.

“Tell me, how deep have you dug into the hull of the station? I assume you’ve not gone far given your limited resources,” Gramps asked.

“Far enough, I take you you’re referring to the strange alloy that parts of the station are made from?” Slater asked.

“That’s a special recipe the station builders cooked up, it’s what the entire exterior and bulkheads are made of. The problem for a Derelict isn’t the fact it’s hard to absorb, even though I’m sure you could absorb it in time. The problem comes from all the sensors imbedded into the hull. This station was built at the height of the council’s power and the founders of this place meant it to be neutral ground, a free port. To defend themselves against even a Derelict, they reinforced the hull and added the sensor net to sniff out anyone or anything that tried to meddle with it,” Gramps said.

“I suppose it’s a good thing I didn’t trip any of the sensors then,” Slater replied. When he was operating at full efficiency, he might find some way around it, but for now, he would have to color within the lines.

“If you had, you would have been found and either destroyed, or more likely, you would have been forced into the arena as a slave to the station. No, my plan is that we disguise you as a core shard and then enter you into the arena on behalf of the Chixturax hive. While there, you can craft ship components and we will cart them out when we deliver raw materials for you to work with. If we earn enough credits, we can buy some components directly and save time,” Gramps offered.

It wasn’t a horrible plan, but not very efficient. It would take years or even decades to create and haul out enough components to build what he wanted to build. Not to mention, someone would see what they were doing at some point and become curious. Slater had the feel that curious people were dangerous on Sarton Station. No, he would need something much more efficient.

“That will take too long and eventually draw too much attention. People will wonder why you’re dragging out as much junk as your bringing in. I’m not like other Derelicts, I’m free of their parasite and have more than a few tricks up my sleeve. I can participate in this arena to earn credits, but we’ll only have to buy raw materials, I will build our ships someplace else,” Slater said.

“But you can’t be at the shipyard and at the same time be at the arena. There’s no way we can cart your core back and forth between the two,” Hixrax said.

“I have a way to project my will over large distances. It was something I used to control my MOBS when boarding another ship and the range should be more than sufficient for me to run construction drones at the shipyard while most of my focus is on winning fights for credits in the arena,” Slater told them. The elders looked at each other for a bit, making Slater wonder if they could communicate in some way that he wasn’t aware of. Another memory tickled the back of his mind, unwilling to spring forth. He wasn’t concerned, he would heal and remember everything soon enough.

“Your plan is sound; we will do that. Our first step is to get you functional to the point you will be useful in the arena. While that is happening, my people will look for a pair of open shipyard berths for our construction to begin at,” Gramps said.

“I’ll need access to raw materials, and I’ll need the drone repaired. I can use it until I’m able to build some more. There is also one other demand I have. Hixrax and his family spent a lot of credits on me to use in their food synthesizer. I don’t want them to suffer because I’m gone. Your hive should purchase them a new unit so they can keep their business open,” Slater said. He didn’t fully trust these bugs, but Hixrax and the kids had done right by him so far.

“It is agreed, Ixlab will take you with him to his workshop. There, you will have all the material you need to restore yourself and prepare for the arena. Should we be successful in our endeavors, the Chixturax will not forget your part,” Gramps said.

“Good, we’ve spent enough time talking, lets get to work,” Slater said.