Post by EmperorMyric on Dec 16, 2017 20:28:58 GMT
A bright light burst into being, and as Tullis watched the clouds begin radiating out from the impact site Ire began laying out the future to her, as she always did at the conclusion of an intervention. Temperature drop, and for how long; ecological shifts, tectonic ramifications; after a dozen of these events she began to feel that the clinical factuality of it all almost dulled the vitality of this event. By this point Shipmaster Tullis really only paid sincere attention to the final sentence of this long litany of changes. They were altering the course of history, yet again, and no one would ever truly appreciate that fact. This was where her mind went, as the white light began fading to orange on the globe below; a thin ring of clouds and dust continuing to spread from the point of impact.
For what to the outside world would have been the last two months, the Taciturn Voice had been assigned to timeline alteration tasks, specifically climatic intervention, along a thin strip of stars stretching several thousand light years. Following the FSEMCE event in which the SHEATHES entities—along with four Heraldic guards and Emissary Darrus—had been terminated, Tullis and her crew had been redeployed into an operation far from combat. Killing deities, after all, was a rather high profile event, and the pronounced nature of doing so raised serious potential for the Taciturn Voice to stand out on temporal sensors—in particular, those used by the Temporians. So the Ascendancy ushered the Taciturn Voice along its way, shepherding it to a place far from combat operations or enemy presence, until the temporal echoes that now resonated in her ship faded again into the background noise of reality.
“…ultimate ramifications of impact suggest genetic inviability of target species due to environmental factors within two hundred years from limited viewpoints. Specifically the collapse of food crops consumed by target species’ evolutionary predecessors, with the secondary modification being the harsher winter conditions…” Ire continued, and as the meteor’s flash finally began fading from the clouds surrounding it Tullis nodded slightly before turning away from the holographic projection in the center of the command chamber.
“Once you have forwarded your report to the Ascendancy,” Tullis murmured, “we’ll prepare to jump to the next assessment point and commence temporal observation; standard variants employed.” The phrases were becoming rit and habit for Tullis, and she was, she privately acknowledged, beginning to bore of these operations. It was a clean up job just as much as it was an investigative one; one of the invader races, a civilization which thanks to gleamed information was known to identify itself simply as Halcyon, had methodically treaded across this galaxy and terraformed countless worlds with high-viability genetic material—which, to temporal overseer Ire’s great interest, appeared to be evolving at hyper accelerated rates, to the point at which intelligent races could be anticipated evolving in as little as five thousand years. Ire was much more enthusiastic about her work here than Tullis was, but Tullis did relish to some degree the love of the work Ire possessed.
“Of course Shipmaster.” Ire replied. “We’ll be underway shortly.” Ire looked away from her screen from a moment and fixed a faint grin towards Tullis. “I just want to run checks for any potential derivative evolutionary effects from our intervention. It wouldn’t do if aquatic lifeforms got the headstart we just denied their land based counterparts.” Ire looked back towards the display, and Tullis smiled slightly at the passion Ire directed towards her work. Temporal overseers were tasked with so many angles; communications, sensor analysis, foreshadow assessment, all critical to the successful operation of their ship. Ire was more than that though; she was a scientist, and taking glimpses into never-would futures of what could have been delighted her.
“Goodnight Ire,” she added, and Tullis had almost left the command deck before Ire called out one last inquiry.
“Shipmaster, Taciturn Arbitration,”—this was one of their ship’s spirits—“advises that Prime Shipmaster Feyri will be contacting you shortly with new orders. It appears we may be being reassigned. Shall I delay our next jump until you have received his communication?” Ire looked into the back corners of the command deck for instructions, and Tullis paused in hesitation. Taciturn Arbitration rarely gave forewarning of orders, which meant that whatever was coming would be…substantial.
“…hold tight until the, Ire. Let’s see what this is about.”
--oOo—
In her quarters, Tullis paused for a moment before answering the call; she checked her reflection in the mirror, confirming that appearance-wise all was in order. She was eager to hear from Feyri in hopes that the Heraldics had given him instructions to send her elsewhere; two months of timeline reading and then redirecting asteroids or triggering solar flares left her restless. It was not that she was eager for conflict—she still felt a soft sort of sadness at having had to do what she had done to Dassus and her guards—but she wished to be useful, and she wished more so to interact with other elements aside from bringing fire on high into primordial soups.
She lingered before the mirror for a while—a personal item she had purchased from a Heraldic trader, as mirrors themselves were shunned by the Heraldic society—and noted the triple golden stripes that ran from the base of the robe to the shoulders on both sides, representing the three deities she had annihilated. No one else in the Flux fleets sported such decoration; having killed gods had brought an unusual degree of acclaim to her, and by extension her ship. Others would have silver bars, sometimes many of them in fact, that ran around the base of the robe representing each ship they had destroyed, and many of her peers were far more decorated than her; but Our Superiors, the Ascendancy’s new leadership, had recognized her well for her accomplishment.
Abruptly self-aware, she turned from the mirror, slipped behind her desk, and summoned the call into being. In a moment, Prime Shipmaster Feyri’s curt face materialized before her.
“Prime Shipmaster,” she acknowledged, “how can I be of service at this time?”
Feyri grinned slightly and leaned forward.
“I assume based off of the reports Ire has forwarded us that the intervention work proceeds without complication?” Feyri asked, and Tullis nodded.
“That is correct. We’ve assessed eighty three solar systems and made appropriate alterations in accordance with our findings and our orders. Sixteen termination events, twenty high grade alterations—“
“I’ve read the reports, Tullis,” Feyri interrupted gently, “your work is fine, as I would expect it to be. Ire does take these sorts of things to heart.”
Tullis returned a smile from Feyri and nodded. “Yes, she does. She won’t cease to talk about the evolutionary selections these races will make. There’ve been some fascinating cephalopod developments—“
“Fascinating to you or Temporal Overseer Ire?” Feyri asked, and Tullis laughed slightly.
“Mostly Ire. Though some of them will be very pretty in a few thousand years.”
“I imagine though,” Feyri said slowly, stroking the carefully trimmed beard that adorned his face, “that you yourself are eager for reassignment out of my command. Now, no, do not think to deny it—I’m managing developmental alterations far from the frontlines,” Feyri continued after Tullis opened her mouth in protest, “and it strikes me that a person with your talents belongs elsewhere. Evidently the Heraldics agree.”
Tullis falls silent for a moment, peering inquisitively at Feyri’s face.
“Our ship’s spirit suggested we’re being reassigned. Is this true?”
Feyri frowns gravely.
“Ships’ spirits shouldn’t pry so freely into such things,” he chided, before the frown began to shift into a strangely uncertain, almost proud smile. “…and no, shipmaster, it’s just you. You’ll be rendezvousing in the near future with your new command, Grave Champion; it’s one of the new Zer’Sees class ships. Once aboard, you’ll receive further orders directly from the Heraldic Order.” Feyri shook his head at his own words. “I have to say I’m rather jealous. Far better ship than mine.”
Tullis said nothing, thinking rapidly about this news. The Zer’Sees class, while not yet combat tested, were stunningly more advanced than the second generation Ehm’Beh class ship she now commanded. Almost five times as heavily armed as the Taciturn Voice purely by count of wormhole spinners—never mind the directed FSEMCE spinner which the vessel was built around--the Grave Champion additionally was outfitted with unprecedented technologies to project the few particles it did leave behind into either the past, or the future—or, if you desire, both at once—so that even if detected—a statistical impossibility which the Centum had proven uncannily adept at defying—they could only determine the point in space where the ship would be…or had been…or was presently; effectively, the ship was utterly untraceable, even immediately in proximity to high-profile events such as the one which had required two months stationed in the nowhere. And especially, Tullis thought, to other time travelers.
“…this is…an honour, prime shipmaster,” Tullis said slowly at last, “that I am not worthy of—“
“Your humility is undeserved, Tullis,” Feyri replied warmly. “You killed gods. You are going places, shipmaster, and this proves it. The Heraldic Order finds favor in you, and they will see to it that you are brought to recognition accordingly.”
Tullis paused, then spoke in a short, clipped tone. “Who commands the Taciturn Voice upon my departure?” She asked.
“Shipmaster Ire will fill your void,” Feyri answered, and quickly added that the rendezvous would take place at the next solar system which the Taciturn Voice was assigned to treat. Tullis agreed quietly, further congratulations were offered, and then the two minds parted ways.
Tullis remained in her quarters, silently thinking. The Grave Champion, being one of these new and incredibly powerful ships—Ire and Tullis had discussed just a few cycles prior how it compared with the older Chaw’Sah’Voh class designs, and had ultimately decided that while the Chaw’Sah’Voh was obviously more heavily armed than the Zer’Sees, the Zer’Sees was surely the superior type by merit of its impeccable stealth and the FSEMCE spinner at its core—would surely be in the hands of the Heraldic Order. After all, the Heraldics had first rights to the advanced tech, and as they were engineered to be masters of temporal foreshadowing the best tools fully deserved to be theirs—but this would mean that she, a common Flux, would be commanding Heraldics. What this implied, she realized with awe, was that she would be well on her way to becoming an ascended commoner; one of those rare ranks, perhaps a few dozen, who the Heraldic Order was so enamored with by merit of deed that they accept as one of their own. Prime Admiral Dorin had been one of these, and…and now, she was well on her way to becoming one too.
But this meant that she would be leaving her crew behind. No longer would she have daily discussions with Ire, or have Ux silently pass her in the corridor, or any of the other three dozen crewmembers recognize her with friendly eyes. She would be surrounded by the most brilliant, calculating, devious even…
After a little while of silent contemplation, she called the command deck and asked that the officer’s have breakfast with her the next morning.
--oOo—
“Family in cause,” Tullis concluded with a good appearance of sincerity to the silent faces surrounding her that night, “may I present to you Shipmaster Ire, leader of the Taciturn Voice.” Then after a silent pause, Tullis forced her eyes back to her plate, and began cutting away at her meal. There. She had said it.
There was silence for a moment, before Ux cleared his throat.
“I imagine I speak for the entirety of this ship,” Ux intoned softly, “when I say that we are just as glad for Ire as we are sad on your account, Tullis.” The ship’s physician, a quiet man who preferred to remain as detached as possible, shrugged slightly. “But it is progress, and you are worth it.”
Tullis looked up from her plate and thanked Ux, and then Ire spoke.
“Do we have instructions,” she inquired, “as to who will assume my position as temporal overseer?” She had taken the news oddly—it was certainly a good promotion for her, but it also denied her the technical role she had so excelled at and enjoyed. Tullis shook her head.
“I imagine if there is one he or she will arrive today aboard the Grave Champion. I wonder if even the Heraldic have as competent a sensory overseer available though.” There was a small laugh at the compliment, and then uneasily the meal concluded. Yet afterwards Ire lingered, hesitating from leaving the room even after the other half dozen officers had left. Tullis was collecting the plates—they were hers too, and in fact the meal had taken place in her quarters—while Ire paused by the doorway.
“Do you know your orders for when you assume your new command?” Ire asked, and Tullis, without looking, shook her head.
“They’ll be revealed to me once I assume command.”
Ire nodded slowly, and took a step towards the door, causing it to dilate open; then she looked back and again congratulated Tullis on her promotion.
“It has been a pleasure serving under you, shipmaster.” She smiled oddly though, as if she knew something Tullis did not. “I wish you luck with your fate.”
Tullis looked back at her friend with a melancholy understanding of their impending separation.
“As do I, shipmaster. It will take some time to become used to your absence.”
Shipmaster Ire, master of the Taciturn Voice, grinned mischievously.
“I’m not convinced that’s quite accurate.” She said enigmatically, then fled the room.
--oOo—
Shortly thereafter the Taciturn Voice docked with the Grave Champion, and as Tullis crossed the threshold between her old home and her new one she felt she was leaving behind everything she enjoyed. Of course it was a bold future, a bright path for herself, but uneasily as the Grave Champion peeled away from the Taciturn Voice she lamented losing the people she knew best.
Her new temporal overseer, a Heraldic named Dyuth, had greeted her at the gateway. He like all other Heraldics was exceedingly intelligent, professional, eloquent, and with an outstanding air of superiority; and as Dyuth lead Shipmaster Tullis--master of the Grave Champion—to the medical chamber for chemical orientation, he spoke with an impeccable aura of efficiency which utterly hid his private uncertainty about his new commander.
“I suspect you’ll find the Grave Champion a substantial step up from your previous command,” Dyuth noted as he walked in synch with his commander’s strides, quietly guiding the way forward. “With sixty four spinners and the central FSEMCE mechanism it is highly unlikely we will ever encounter anything that can’t be addressed swiftly and effectively.”
“Let alone the stealth capacities, chaw’,” added Tullis, causing a small smirk from Dyuth.
“It is a shame the Centum chose now of all times to withdraw from our galaxy,” Dyuth continued with a hint of pride, “as the Zer’Sees were designed in response to their behavior and capabilities.” It was an odd thing to say, Tullis felt, in that the Centum’s departure had been their goal, and the sooner the better too. Yet Dyuth wished to have had more resistance, simply to test efficiency.
In the medical chamber Temporal Overseer Dyuth introduced him to Dain, who proceeded to run a physical examination and then inoculate Tullis with counter-pheremonic hormones, each one specially engineered to balance out the memory-effects of each particular member of the Grave Champion's crew. “It would do little good,” Dain murmured softly throughout this process, “to have you forget why you’re here, after all.” Then Dyuth ushered her on to the bridge.
“It must have been a remarkable experience engaging the SHEATHES deities.” Dyuth said aloud as they entered the command chamber. It was laid out much differently from her old command; there were new display regions showing the activities in the FSEMCE spinner, and other controls for temporal dislocation of the microscopic emissions the ship leaked out. Quickly introduced her to the other overseers, adding that in addition to the forty four crewmembers aboard the Grave Champion there were additionally a dozen Heraldic guards at her disposal as well, “for more intimate combat scenarios,” Dyuth added with what seemed like a hint of whimsy.
“May I inquire what that was like,” Dyuth asked at this point, “being engaging the SHEATHES entities?” He was not looking at her as he spoke, but rather summoning up the ship’s spirits, Grave Wrath and Grave Mercy; schematics displaying their personality specifics floated through the air around them as he did so.
Tullis answered vaguely as she studied the diagrams. “It was really a non-event, chaw’. We withdrew to a safe distance and triggered an FSEMCE. Then we scanned, found no energy, as expected, and departed.” What she did not say was that she had spent many nights wondering about just what she had destroyed, or why it had evidently given her pastries so shortly before the Heraldics called for their destruction. Her non-event had given her slight hints of guilt…
“It is not necessary to use that honorific with us, shipmaster,” Dyuth suggested without looking away from the displays, “as you command us at this point. Shipmasters need not honor overseers, logically.” Then he turned to make eye contact with her.
“You are the Ascendancy’s leading expert on combatting supernatural deities. This is why the Heraldic selected you for this command, and for your following mission. You were, if I may be so bold to say so shipmaster, very lucky with being able to hit SHEATHES before they assumed a combat position. What we’re up against now is not likely to be quite so…passive.”
TO BE CONTINUED...
For what to the outside world would have been the last two months, the Taciturn Voice had been assigned to timeline alteration tasks, specifically climatic intervention, along a thin strip of stars stretching several thousand light years. Following the FSEMCE event in which the SHEATHES entities—along with four Heraldic guards and Emissary Darrus—had been terminated, Tullis and her crew had been redeployed into an operation far from combat. Killing deities, after all, was a rather high profile event, and the pronounced nature of doing so raised serious potential for the Taciturn Voice to stand out on temporal sensors—in particular, those used by the Temporians. So the Ascendancy ushered the Taciturn Voice along its way, shepherding it to a place far from combat operations or enemy presence, until the temporal echoes that now resonated in her ship faded again into the background noise of reality.
“…ultimate ramifications of impact suggest genetic inviability of target species due to environmental factors within two hundred years from limited viewpoints. Specifically the collapse of food crops consumed by target species’ evolutionary predecessors, with the secondary modification being the harsher winter conditions…” Ire continued, and as the meteor’s flash finally began fading from the clouds surrounding it Tullis nodded slightly before turning away from the holographic projection in the center of the command chamber.
“Once you have forwarded your report to the Ascendancy,” Tullis murmured, “we’ll prepare to jump to the next assessment point and commence temporal observation; standard variants employed.” The phrases were becoming rit and habit for Tullis, and she was, she privately acknowledged, beginning to bore of these operations. It was a clean up job just as much as it was an investigative one; one of the invader races, a civilization which thanks to gleamed information was known to identify itself simply as Halcyon, had methodically treaded across this galaxy and terraformed countless worlds with high-viability genetic material—which, to temporal overseer Ire’s great interest, appeared to be evolving at hyper accelerated rates, to the point at which intelligent races could be anticipated evolving in as little as five thousand years. Ire was much more enthusiastic about her work here than Tullis was, but Tullis did relish to some degree the love of the work Ire possessed.
“Of course Shipmaster.” Ire replied. “We’ll be underway shortly.” Ire looked away from her screen from a moment and fixed a faint grin towards Tullis. “I just want to run checks for any potential derivative evolutionary effects from our intervention. It wouldn’t do if aquatic lifeforms got the headstart we just denied their land based counterparts.” Ire looked back towards the display, and Tullis smiled slightly at the passion Ire directed towards her work. Temporal overseers were tasked with so many angles; communications, sensor analysis, foreshadow assessment, all critical to the successful operation of their ship. Ire was more than that though; she was a scientist, and taking glimpses into never-would futures of what could have been delighted her.
“Goodnight Ire,” she added, and Tullis had almost left the command deck before Ire called out one last inquiry.
“Shipmaster, Taciturn Arbitration,”—this was one of their ship’s spirits—“advises that Prime Shipmaster Feyri will be contacting you shortly with new orders. It appears we may be being reassigned. Shall I delay our next jump until you have received his communication?” Ire looked into the back corners of the command deck for instructions, and Tullis paused in hesitation. Taciturn Arbitration rarely gave forewarning of orders, which meant that whatever was coming would be…substantial.
“…hold tight until the, Ire. Let’s see what this is about.”
--oOo—
In her quarters, Tullis paused for a moment before answering the call; she checked her reflection in the mirror, confirming that appearance-wise all was in order. She was eager to hear from Feyri in hopes that the Heraldics had given him instructions to send her elsewhere; two months of timeline reading and then redirecting asteroids or triggering solar flares left her restless. It was not that she was eager for conflict—she still felt a soft sort of sadness at having had to do what she had done to Dassus and her guards—but she wished to be useful, and she wished more so to interact with other elements aside from bringing fire on high into primordial soups.
She lingered before the mirror for a while—a personal item she had purchased from a Heraldic trader, as mirrors themselves were shunned by the Heraldic society—and noted the triple golden stripes that ran from the base of the robe to the shoulders on both sides, representing the three deities she had annihilated. No one else in the Flux fleets sported such decoration; having killed gods had brought an unusual degree of acclaim to her, and by extension her ship. Others would have silver bars, sometimes many of them in fact, that ran around the base of the robe representing each ship they had destroyed, and many of her peers were far more decorated than her; but Our Superiors, the Ascendancy’s new leadership, had recognized her well for her accomplishment.
Abruptly self-aware, she turned from the mirror, slipped behind her desk, and summoned the call into being. In a moment, Prime Shipmaster Feyri’s curt face materialized before her.
“Prime Shipmaster,” she acknowledged, “how can I be of service at this time?”
Feyri grinned slightly and leaned forward.
“I assume based off of the reports Ire has forwarded us that the intervention work proceeds without complication?” Feyri asked, and Tullis nodded.
“That is correct. We’ve assessed eighty three solar systems and made appropriate alterations in accordance with our findings and our orders. Sixteen termination events, twenty high grade alterations—“
“I’ve read the reports, Tullis,” Feyri interrupted gently, “your work is fine, as I would expect it to be. Ire does take these sorts of things to heart.”
Tullis returned a smile from Feyri and nodded. “Yes, she does. She won’t cease to talk about the evolutionary selections these races will make. There’ve been some fascinating cephalopod developments—“
“Fascinating to you or Temporal Overseer Ire?” Feyri asked, and Tullis laughed slightly.
“Mostly Ire. Though some of them will be very pretty in a few thousand years.”
“I imagine though,” Feyri said slowly, stroking the carefully trimmed beard that adorned his face, “that you yourself are eager for reassignment out of my command. Now, no, do not think to deny it—I’m managing developmental alterations far from the frontlines,” Feyri continued after Tullis opened her mouth in protest, “and it strikes me that a person with your talents belongs elsewhere. Evidently the Heraldics agree.”
Tullis falls silent for a moment, peering inquisitively at Feyri’s face.
“Our ship’s spirit suggested we’re being reassigned. Is this true?”
Feyri frowns gravely.
“Ships’ spirits shouldn’t pry so freely into such things,” he chided, before the frown began to shift into a strangely uncertain, almost proud smile. “…and no, shipmaster, it’s just you. You’ll be rendezvousing in the near future with your new command, Grave Champion; it’s one of the new Zer’Sees class ships. Once aboard, you’ll receive further orders directly from the Heraldic Order.” Feyri shook his head at his own words. “I have to say I’m rather jealous. Far better ship than mine.”
Tullis said nothing, thinking rapidly about this news. The Zer’Sees class, while not yet combat tested, were stunningly more advanced than the second generation Ehm’Beh class ship she now commanded. Almost five times as heavily armed as the Taciturn Voice purely by count of wormhole spinners—never mind the directed FSEMCE spinner which the vessel was built around--the Grave Champion additionally was outfitted with unprecedented technologies to project the few particles it did leave behind into either the past, or the future—or, if you desire, both at once—so that even if detected—a statistical impossibility which the Centum had proven uncannily adept at defying—they could only determine the point in space where the ship would be…or had been…or was presently; effectively, the ship was utterly untraceable, even immediately in proximity to high-profile events such as the one which had required two months stationed in the nowhere. And especially, Tullis thought, to other time travelers.
“…this is…an honour, prime shipmaster,” Tullis said slowly at last, “that I am not worthy of—“
“Your humility is undeserved, Tullis,” Feyri replied warmly. “You killed gods. You are going places, shipmaster, and this proves it. The Heraldic Order finds favor in you, and they will see to it that you are brought to recognition accordingly.”
Tullis paused, then spoke in a short, clipped tone. “Who commands the Taciturn Voice upon my departure?” She asked.
“Shipmaster Ire will fill your void,” Feyri answered, and quickly added that the rendezvous would take place at the next solar system which the Taciturn Voice was assigned to treat. Tullis agreed quietly, further congratulations were offered, and then the two minds parted ways.
Tullis remained in her quarters, silently thinking. The Grave Champion, being one of these new and incredibly powerful ships—Ire and Tullis had discussed just a few cycles prior how it compared with the older Chaw’Sah’Voh class designs, and had ultimately decided that while the Chaw’Sah’Voh was obviously more heavily armed than the Zer’Sees, the Zer’Sees was surely the superior type by merit of its impeccable stealth and the FSEMCE spinner at its core—would surely be in the hands of the Heraldic Order. After all, the Heraldics had first rights to the advanced tech, and as they were engineered to be masters of temporal foreshadowing the best tools fully deserved to be theirs—but this would mean that she, a common Flux, would be commanding Heraldics. What this implied, she realized with awe, was that she would be well on her way to becoming an ascended commoner; one of those rare ranks, perhaps a few dozen, who the Heraldic Order was so enamored with by merit of deed that they accept as one of their own. Prime Admiral Dorin had been one of these, and…and now, she was well on her way to becoming one too.
But this meant that she would be leaving her crew behind. No longer would she have daily discussions with Ire, or have Ux silently pass her in the corridor, or any of the other three dozen crewmembers recognize her with friendly eyes. She would be surrounded by the most brilliant, calculating, devious even…
After a little while of silent contemplation, she called the command deck and asked that the officer’s have breakfast with her the next morning.
--oOo—
“Family in cause,” Tullis concluded with a good appearance of sincerity to the silent faces surrounding her that night, “may I present to you Shipmaster Ire, leader of the Taciturn Voice.” Then after a silent pause, Tullis forced her eyes back to her plate, and began cutting away at her meal. There. She had said it.
There was silence for a moment, before Ux cleared his throat.
“I imagine I speak for the entirety of this ship,” Ux intoned softly, “when I say that we are just as glad for Ire as we are sad on your account, Tullis.” The ship’s physician, a quiet man who preferred to remain as detached as possible, shrugged slightly. “But it is progress, and you are worth it.”
Tullis looked up from her plate and thanked Ux, and then Ire spoke.
“Do we have instructions,” she inquired, “as to who will assume my position as temporal overseer?” She had taken the news oddly—it was certainly a good promotion for her, but it also denied her the technical role she had so excelled at and enjoyed. Tullis shook her head.
“I imagine if there is one he or she will arrive today aboard the Grave Champion. I wonder if even the Heraldic have as competent a sensory overseer available though.” There was a small laugh at the compliment, and then uneasily the meal concluded. Yet afterwards Ire lingered, hesitating from leaving the room even after the other half dozen officers had left. Tullis was collecting the plates—they were hers too, and in fact the meal had taken place in her quarters—while Ire paused by the doorway.
“Do you know your orders for when you assume your new command?” Ire asked, and Tullis, without looking, shook her head.
“They’ll be revealed to me once I assume command.”
Ire nodded slowly, and took a step towards the door, causing it to dilate open; then she looked back and again congratulated Tullis on her promotion.
“It has been a pleasure serving under you, shipmaster.” She smiled oddly though, as if she knew something Tullis did not. “I wish you luck with your fate.”
Tullis looked back at her friend with a melancholy understanding of their impending separation.
“As do I, shipmaster. It will take some time to become used to your absence.”
Shipmaster Ire, master of the Taciturn Voice, grinned mischievously.
“I’m not convinced that’s quite accurate.” She said enigmatically, then fled the room.
--oOo—
Shortly thereafter the Taciturn Voice docked with the Grave Champion, and as Tullis crossed the threshold between her old home and her new one she felt she was leaving behind everything she enjoyed. Of course it was a bold future, a bright path for herself, but uneasily as the Grave Champion peeled away from the Taciturn Voice she lamented losing the people she knew best.
Her new temporal overseer, a Heraldic named Dyuth, had greeted her at the gateway. He like all other Heraldics was exceedingly intelligent, professional, eloquent, and with an outstanding air of superiority; and as Dyuth lead Shipmaster Tullis--master of the Grave Champion—to the medical chamber for chemical orientation, he spoke with an impeccable aura of efficiency which utterly hid his private uncertainty about his new commander.
“I suspect you’ll find the Grave Champion a substantial step up from your previous command,” Dyuth noted as he walked in synch with his commander’s strides, quietly guiding the way forward. “With sixty four spinners and the central FSEMCE mechanism it is highly unlikely we will ever encounter anything that can’t be addressed swiftly and effectively.”
“Let alone the stealth capacities, chaw’,” added Tullis, causing a small smirk from Dyuth.
“It is a shame the Centum chose now of all times to withdraw from our galaxy,” Dyuth continued with a hint of pride, “as the Zer’Sees were designed in response to their behavior and capabilities.” It was an odd thing to say, Tullis felt, in that the Centum’s departure had been their goal, and the sooner the better too. Yet Dyuth wished to have had more resistance, simply to test efficiency.
In the medical chamber Temporal Overseer Dyuth introduced him to Dain, who proceeded to run a physical examination and then inoculate Tullis with counter-pheremonic hormones, each one specially engineered to balance out the memory-effects of each particular member of the Grave Champion's crew. “It would do little good,” Dain murmured softly throughout this process, “to have you forget why you’re here, after all.” Then Dyuth ushered her on to the bridge.
“It must have been a remarkable experience engaging the SHEATHES deities.” Dyuth said aloud as they entered the command chamber. It was laid out much differently from her old command; there were new display regions showing the activities in the FSEMCE spinner, and other controls for temporal dislocation of the microscopic emissions the ship leaked out. Quickly introduced her to the other overseers, adding that in addition to the forty four crewmembers aboard the Grave Champion there were additionally a dozen Heraldic guards at her disposal as well, “for more intimate combat scenarios,” Dyuth added with what seemed like a hint of whimsy.
“May I inquire what that was like,” Dyuth asked at this point, “being engaging the SHEATHES entities?” He was not looking at her as he spoke, but rather summoning up the ship’s spirits, Grave Wrath and Grave Mercy; schematics displaying their personality specifics floated through the air around them as he did so.
Tullis answered vaguely as she studied the diagrams. “It was really a non-event, chaw’. We withdrew to a safe distance and triggered an FSEMCE. Then we scanned, found no energy, as expected, and departed.” What she did not say was that she had spent many nights wondering about just what she had destroyed, or why it had evidently given her pastries so shortly before the Heraldics called for their destruction. Her non-event had given her slight hints of guilt…
“It is not necessary to use that honorific with us, shipmaster,” Dyuth suggested without looking away from the displays, “as you command us at this point. Shipmasters need not honor overseers, logically.” Then he turned to make eye contact with her.
“You are the Ascendancy’s leading expert on combatting supernatural deities. This is why the Heraldic selected you for this command, and for your following mission. You were, if I may be so bold to say so shipmaster, very lucky with being able to hit SHEATHES before they assumed a combat position. What we’re up against now is not likely to be quite so…passive.”
TO BE CONTINUED...