Chronicles of The Omniverse Archived Aschen Sector

Chloe's heart pounded. Suddenly she was overcome with determination, purpose, a lust for revenge. As the Admiral turned away, she saw her chance. She ran. She ran down the halls, knocking over one of the ships crew. She wouldn't serve this stupid "Glorious Empire", she wouldn't be some puppet for the empire that killed her parents. Stupid, stupid, stupid! She thought. The door to to the hangar was in sight now. To late to back down now...
 
The Iarin watched passively, not commenting. He despised the acts of Harkin, and wished to scourge him before the Aschen crew aboard the Devotion, but this was a matter he dared not intrude on. Just as it was wrong in the eyes of the Iarin to promote the ideals of slavery and the binding of a free being in perpetual service without regard for their sentience and well-being, so too, did he suspect, that it was considered disgraceful to speak as King had spoken. Still, he could at least do something. After all, the Iarin were a welcoming people, if a bit confusing to other species at times.

"Harkin Admiral," he said softly. "Might I change out the guard you've stationed aboard my vessel? I suspect it would be a welcome to change of scenery for the one currently stationed, as well as good for their body. Our food is, apparently, not enticing enough for them to eat. That, and they've become a bit too curious. If the Firrona is to stay here any further, I truly do desire a fresh, shall we say, guest aboard my vessel to mark us as abiding by your rules." He smiled ever so slightly and then added, as a final piece to his words, "I'll have the entryway open and ready for the change."

With that, he muted his side of the communications and returned it to audio only, then pressed several different buttons. As his crew filed back onto the bridge, he gave them a few orders. "We are taking a new guest aboard to replace the old. We are to have our entryway ready immediately. I expect the change should occur soon enough." He un-muted the audio feed from the bridge and relaxed back as the members of his crew began to open the Firrona without delay.
 
The Admiral considered Rashiim's request, but he was also dealing with the young Cadet who had stormed out of the CIC, he had hoped she would do the right thing, and head to the Brig where she could be entered into corrections, but it seems that she wasn't as loyal as he had hoped.

"AI." Harkin called out. "Track Cadet King's location."

The young woman flickered into view, and offered a nod, using a combination of hallway surveillance, and thermal readings she got a lock onto Chloe's location.

"Alpha Corridor, frame two section nine." The AI replied, while Harkin scowled, turning back to communication. "Inform Captain Rashiim that I will honor his request for a changing of the guard; tactical!" Harkin called out, turning to his Tactical command station.

"Get me a security team to apprehend Cadet King, have her escorted to the Brig where she can cool her heels."
 
She turned down the corridor, into the tram station. The tram was there. She got in, and pushed the buttons required to take her to the hangar. She sat down, as the tram began to take her to the hangar. She should be safe. Until I get there. She thought. Why, why why?! She thought, almost yelling at herself for her stupidity. Maybe she could... No. She wouldn't serve the empire that killed her parents.
 
Upon hearing that there would, in fact, be a change of guard, Rashiim shut off the communications link with the Devotion. After all, his next thought was dangerous in all regards, but he couldn't bear to let the female be pushed about, alien or not. He looked to his comms officer.

"Kallka, how difficult would it be for you to simulate a transmission from an Aschen vessel? And, knowing how our vessel is currently docked within their own, how readily could you scramble any inter-ship transmissions that they produce? I ask, because there appears to be a refugee fleeing an opprssor, and we would be loathe to not do our utmost to aid her." His tone was very, very calm.

Kallka looked up, his eyes widening in surprise. "Ecto Rashiim," he said, using the honorific for the captain, "that would be unwise. We are but scouting the area, nothing more. Not to mention that it would likely bring the ire of the Asc-"

"I do not need to know the potentials, Bhetva Kallka. I am asking you if you can do it, and if you can do it quickly enough to save a life. If so, I need you to tandem Firrona herself, not the vessel but the Survivor, with that of the vessel around us, using the Webways connections in our docking system. She can handle the increased information, I know that much for certain. Can you do it?" he asked, remaining calm, but stern. Kallka paused for a moment, then simply nodded and got to work. Rashiim turned to one of the females on the bridge. "Darrana, prep all requirements for initiation of xenobiological lifeform into Iarin citizenry. She may never be Iarin in full, but we can give her something more than oppression."

As Rashiim turned to head to the entryway of his vessel to oversee the guard change personally, his officers flew into action. Kallka took a lead from the console before him, pulled it out and let his eyes glaze over before ramming it into his left side, slightly below the ribcage. He barely flinched as his Bonded began to talk to Firrona, a Survivor. She was ancient compared to any of them, a Bonded from the time before the Iarin rose from slavery. She had seen much, and could think as fast as most quantum computers, but her thoughts were organic, abstract enough to handle information on a grand scale. As she received the instructions, she began to extend her capacity down the web-like docking mechanism that the Firrona had used when entering the Devotion. It acted as a conduit to the Aschen vessel, and from there Firrona contacted the ship's AI, distracting it from doing its job by asking roundabout logical and moral questions as well as trying to catch the system in either a paradox or a logical loop, preferably self-enforcing. Namely, by not acting, it was allowing the Aschen to prove they were worthy of such a hard-working AI, and by being worthy of the AI, the AI would not need to act. It was difficult, across all portions, but Firrona hoped that it would work.
 
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"Sir, the main tramway is moving, she's aboard the tram, and appears to be entering coordinates to the main hangar bay." The Tactical officer said, watching the holographic display in real time, the red tramway highlighted as it began to move towards the hangar bay.

"Get a security team to the tram station, shut it down and lock her in." Harkin ordered, picking up the intercom.

"This is the Admiral, I need a security team to the main hangar bay, the tram station, and the Alien vessel. I have an idea as to where she's headed. I'm authorizing lethal force, but would prefer to have her brought back alive." The Admiral said, prompting a quick response on the other end.

"Sir, I'll get my team assembled and ready to move out." He said, before disconnecting the link, from there Harkin moved back to the main command console, only to be interrupted yet again, this time from the Communications officer.

"Sir, somethings causing a slowdown in our main AI core, I'm getting logical interference across the neural, and positron pathways. I'm also getting communications interference." The Lieutenant said, in which case Harkin turned and nodded. "What's the source?"

"Unknown, I'm getting a lot of interference but I'll try to clean it up." The Comms officer replied, and Harkin growled, grabbing the disruptor pistol. "Cut power to the tramways, I have a sneaking suspicion our new friends have started to show their true colors, Put the ship's computron systems into Autistic mode, analog only. I'm initiating a level two containment." He said, storming out of the CIC, with several Imperial marines in tow, all of them checking their weapons.

As the Iarin vessel was interfacing with the Reverence's AI, bogging it down, and confusing it, there would be a sudden and abrupt loss of power, the AI going completely offline, as well as almost all of the secondary computer systems, leaving only Primary systems, as well as secondary analog parallel systems.

Aboard the tram, the lights went black, and the tram came to an abrupt stop, emergency brakes engaging as the power was cut to the tramway, this included life support as well, only the dull red emergency lights lit up the inside of the tram now. At this point no one could reach Chloe, unless they attempted a risky EVA through the main tramway conduit. The only thing between the unpressurized tramway cooridor, and Chloe was the walls of the tram.

Security teams, contacted through physical landline across the ship were assembling, an entire platoon of soldiers ran past the Firrona and Rashiim, headed towards the Tramway station.

Meanwhile Harkin and his team were moving towards the Admin Section's tram station, where they could power the tram and manually recall it.
 
Chloe sighed. So this was it. She had stood up to the 'Evil Empire' and now she was stuck in a stupid tram. Stupid. Stupid, stupid stu- She noticed something. Right in front of the tram was a sealed door. They had stopped her right before she could escape. So close... Yet so far.

Wait a second... She yanked at the seating, and a metal bar came off. You can make a ship withstand a thousand missiles, and you can't even make a good bench. These ships were built to be attacked from the outside. But not the inside.

She practiced holding her breath. She counted in her head. 60 seconds. She would have to allow the pressure to leak slowly, but quick enough so that she could get out fast. She wasn't a scientist, but she thought could be out in 20 seconds. She bent the pipe against the bench, making a sort of crow-bar.

Here goes nothing. She hesitated. She knew the empire wouldn't execute her. Maybe re-educate her, but not kill her. But they're murderers. She lifted the crow-bar above her head. I won't be a part of some crazy, genocidal empire. She swung. The glass cracked, and the oxygen slowly began leaking out of the room. If the pressure change adjusted steadily, in theory she could make it out. To fast, and she could get the bends. The cracks spider-webbed across the glass. Chloe held her breath.

1... The glass began to make popping noises, almost all the pressure had escaped the room.

2... The glass was covered in cracks.

3... Chloe raised the crowbar above her head, preparing to strike.

4... She swung, shattering the glass.

5... She drifted out into the tube, weightless.

6... She used the sides of the tube to launch herself forward, getting closer to the hangar door.

7... 20 meters...

8... 15 meters...

9... 10 meters...

10... 5...

11... Now! Chloe gripped the side of the tube, coming to a stop at the door.

12... She swung her crow-bar, cracking the glass. What genius made this place so fragile on the inside?

13... She swung again, cracks spider-webbing across the glass. They never planned for someone to attack from the inside. They relied on a bunch of idiots to be--- idiots.

14... She started to panic, her breath beginning to run out. She swung again, and the glass started to show signs of breaking. They thought everyone would just assume the Xenos were barbaric, bloodthirsty individuals.

15... It shattered, sucking her into the tram station. The doors had been sealed. Crud. She needed help, fast. She would need to open and close the doors fast enough to let her in, and not let all the oxygen out. Well, they thought wrong.
 
As soon as the AI shut down, Firrona pulled her consciousness back within the confines of the frigate, quieting down and allowing Kallka to remove the device he'd rammed into himself. Things had gone smoothly so far. Darrana had finished bringing up all the necessary paperwork, only a few pages for a refugee, and had it prepared. Down below, Rashiim stood with the Aschen guard who had been assigned to his vessel, acting as if nothing were amiss, aside from some mild surprise at the sudden shift in various lights and consoles around the hangar bay.
 
16... Chloe pounded on the metal door, hoping someone could hear her. Please, whatever divine entity is out there, save my sorry butt.
 
Her pounding on the blast door translated through the frame, the men on the inside could hear it, which betrayed her location, forming up on the tramway tracks, they readied their weapons and positioned themselves near the main door.

"Take position... get ready."

The door on the outside snapped open, apparently something had smiled on Chloe's fortune, which would allow her to move inside. Twenty seconds had passed, and with Chloe inside, the blast door shut behind her, a red light turned green and the room abruptly pressurized with a loud hiss.

The door in front of Chloe opened up to reveal a dozen Imperial Marines with weapons primed and aimed.

"Cadet! On your knees! Hands behind your head! Now!" One of the soldiers screamed. "No sudden moves or we will open fire!" He bellowed, as they formed up.

"Admiral has orders to take you in, surrender peacefully and we won't have to shoot you."

A second Imperial marine readied a pair of binders, and started to slowly move in under the cover of the other soldiers, lowering his weapon he started to move forward.
 
Chloe fell to her knees, not from submission, but shock, shock that she had survived a vacuum. Without a space suit. With a piece of metal. "You're a bunch of... sorry losers...." She said, panting on the ground. "Listening to a... blind idiot who... can't think for himself...." She paused, glancing over at the sign above the door. it read "HANGAR". Luck. Pure, unpredictable, inconceivable, luck. An idea began to form in her mind. One of the craziest ideas she had. It has to work. It must. Chloe submitted to being cuffed, and waited.
 
Their actions were careful, coordinated, one marine fastened the binders to restrain Chloe's arms firmly behind her back, while a second hefted her to her feet, three more stood behind, weapons primed and aimed. "Let's go, On your feet." The Marine said, forcibly escorting Chloe out of the airlock.

"CIC, this is Red Team, I've secured the defector, and i'm taking her to the brig." He called into his comm node.

"Acknowledged Red Team." The Tactical officer replied.

Though the Hangar was in view, Chloe would have to run through roughly a dozen armed men to get there, and even then, she still wasn't safe.
 
"You're just a bunch of sorry b-" Was all she managed to get out before one of the guards it her with the butt of his rifle, knocking the air out of her. "Watch your mouth cadet." He growled, glaring at her. She managed to catch a glimpse of the Iarin ship. It was like almost any other ship except somehow.... alive. Creepy Chloe thought, keeping her pace with the guards.

She kept quiet the rest of the way to the brig, muttering some choice words about the admiral under her breath. When they got there, the guard shoved her in, knocking Chloe off her feet.

No escape. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Just me and four walls, and a door. She thought to herself, staring at the metal door. She pulled out a little journal from her back pocket. There was a lock on it, and after all she'd been through she still hadn't found out how to open it.

"What is it?" Chloe asked, looking up at her mom. She had long, dark brown hair, and was wearing a fancy suit. There was a hint of fear, no terror in her brown eyes. "It's an... early birthday present." Her mother said, trying to put on the cheerful face she always wore. The worry in her voice made it quite clear though. Something was wrong. "It's locked." Chloe said, looking at her mom with confusion. "How do I open it?" "That's for you to figure out." Her mother said, a hint of mischief in her voice. "Listen, Chloe, I want you to remember something." She said, looking Chloe in the eye. She didn't need to bend down, Chloe was almost as tall as her mom and Nathan now. "What?" Chloe asked.

"You'll never be alone."

Chloe shook her had, bringing herself out of her memories, and back into reality. She turned the book around for a bit, and then set it down in her lap, and started to cry. At first, she just sobbed. Then a tear dribbled down her cheek. and then more. Then she was crying, alone, in an empty room. No one near to comfort her, no one to offer consolation. She dropped the book, and heard a click. She looked down, and saw that the lock wasn't really a lock. She rubbed away some of her tears, and opened the book, turning the pages slowly, as if they might shatter if she so much as touched them wrong. Her eyes opened wide with shock, and she dropped the book.

"It's... not possible..."
 
Rashiim watched from the entry of the Firrona as a female was apprehended by the guards at the nearest airlock. It pained him to watch, as he suspected who the female might be, but he could not do anything in the situation without escalating the danger he, his crew, and his ship were already in. After all, despite what had occurred already, he was doing his best to ensure that his people made it out of here safely. He looked at the guard who'd been aboard his ship for over a week now. No expression beneath the faceless visor of it's helmet. No relaxation in it's form. No hint that it was even alive, aside from the regular rise and fall of it's torso as it breathed. He shook his head and waited for the change of guards to occur, hoping he would see Harkin there as well.
 
The guard standing inside the Firrona finally moved after standing guard for so long, his hand moved to his ear, before his vox sprang to life.

"The changing of the guard you requested has been delayed due to some technical difficulties." The guard said. Of course, he opted not to reveal the true nature of the delay.

If Rashiim opted to keep watching the activities of the hangar deck, he would find a large Condor VTOL being towed in, the solid matte black finish of the transport ship, along with an emblem that Rashiim had not yet encountered displayed proudly on the wings, even if it was low key.

The VTOL was taxied in place across the hangar bay, secured into place as technicians and aviation mechanics moved to attach fuel lines to the wings and fuselage of the VTOL, while it's engines spooled down.

Four individuals emerged from the back of the VTOL, one of them was clad in the dark purple robes of the Confessor Cabal, the other three were in all black BDUs, with the lead individual sporting black BDU pants, and a somewhat nice sweater, while the two behind were in all black BDUs, toting chrome colored briefcases in their hands. They were an IIA Special agent, and two diagnostic technicians.

"Where's your deck chief?" The IIA Agent asked, showing his credentials, at which point the Aviation technician gestured to the Deck Chief, Chief Petty Officer Markham, an older, rugged looking man covered in grease, working on a nearby Apollo fighter.

There was a brief conversation, and then the IIA Agent, and his team gestured to one of the corners of the bay.

A Technician opened up the Jefferies tube hatch access that ran under the deck plating, with the second Technician plugging his briefcase, which opened up to reveal something akin to a laptop computer into a computer interface at the end of the Hangar.

The Special Agent took out a portable Computron, tapped the screen, and then moved towards Rashiim.

"Are you the Commanding officer of this vessel?" The Agent asked, gesturing to the Firrona.

----

Inside the Brig.

The Metal doors of the Brig opened up with a slight hiss, and Chloe was greeted by two Imperial Marines, and the Confessor that boarded the vessel earlier.

"Cadet Chloe King?" The Confessor asked. "I'd like a moment of your time." He said, gesturing for the Marines to close the door behind him, leaving the two of them alone in the Cell.
 
The Iarin captain did a double take, looking back at the guard. The creature had actually spoken for once, and it appeared to be a male if the timbre of the voice was to mean anything. He simply nodded in response and watched the goings on of the hangar. Despite his lack of knowledge on the Aschen, by watching their operations, he realized that they operated well, if a bit too stiffly for the standards of his people. No room for creativity, it seemed. Simply operating the way a machine would when given fuel. He let the thought drift from his mind, relaxing his mental function down to a simple state of basic activity. That, and a small amount of curiosity. When the newer member of the alien species walked up to him, he turned his gaze towards them, lifting his head ever so slightly with a politely neutral expression.

"I am in charge of the Firrona, if that is what you are asking, yes," he said. Just as his demeanor exuded a calm and relaxed state, his speaking was unhurried.
 
The IIA Agent gestured towards a pair of Imperial Marines standing guard near the turbolift, and the Marines started to approach.

"Excellent, can you come with me, Please." he said, gesturing out to the Hangar. "I need to speak with you regarding a few things." He said.
 
Rashiim watched the two marines for a moment, then nodded.

"Of course I can. May I ask what this is about," he replied as he stepped from the ship.
 
"Everything will be explained in a few moments." The Agent said, stepping back to accomodate Rashiim, before moving towards the tram station.

Tapping his earpiece he spoke up. "Thompson to CIC, IIA Verification code Alpha-Beta-One-Three-Nine, to Actual." He said.

"Prepare an interview room in the Brig, and get a security team to meet me there." He ordered, and Harkin replied in the affirmative, as the tram came to a stop in front of them.

Not much else would be said as they took the tram to the Detention section of the ship, which was several decks down from the main living quarters, a much longer ride than the CIC.

Through it all, Thompson said nothing, simply leading Rashiim to a room with a door, two chairs, and a table.

"Please, be seated, I have a lot to go over."
 
Rashiim said nothing as they walked, though he wondered why he was being taken so far into the ship's interior. It was not a comforting thought to be brought so close to the confinement area of the vessel, but he couldn't say much without causing suspicion to arise. When they arrived in the room, he seated himself and watched the agent, one eyebrow raised in curiosity.
 
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