Made in DNA's Blog, page 2

Screaming Metal (Part 012)

Though much of the smaller junk had settled over time, it would have been a mistake to consider it safe.

Stabilizers and anti-grav cushioning helped them over the uneven swells and kept them from getting their feet caught in crevices.

The junkyard was a patchwork of rolling, low hillocks that stretched as far as the eye could see at ground level.

Priyanka looked at Deshel who was busy concentrating on a handscanner that he swept over the area. The machine beeped and buzzed in reply.

"What do you have?" she asked.

Deshel remained quiet, carefully making his way over the junk, testing each piece for stability before stepping on to it.

He paused, then leaped with great caution over a gap between two unidentifiable, industrial gray-metal carcasses.

The once bold colors, motifs and plumage on the machines were now scuffed and faded beyond recognition.

Everything in the junkyard, it seemed, had seemed to take on the same time-worn, dull non-color.

Priyanka watched Deshel with growing agitation.

"Well... if I had to guess–"

"Guess? Why are you guessing?" She frowned.

"Sorry. It's..." He took another couple of steps, heading aft of the Alley Cat. "Here." He looked up at Priyanka. "Somewhere under this."

All the data they had – the radio signals, the ping and Priyanka's source – indicated the Metal was buried perhaps a dozen meters below.

Priyanka looked at the junk beneath her feet. Rusting metal and faded plastic of agricultural equipment stared straight back at her.

The exoframes would allow them to lift most of the junk from the position they wanted excavate.

For anything larger, they might have to use cutting torches. That would take real time.

Probably more time than they had for a proper retrieval today.

Priyanka sighed and spoke to no one in particular, "I suppose we should be lucky no one dropped a starship on it."

Deshel cocked his head doubtfully, "Not that we can tell anyway."

Without a word more, the two began clearing an area of debris, starting in a central area and working ever outward in a large circle.

They worked so that a gradual, stepped slope was created, doing their best to flatten and stabilize the area as they went.

They last thing they wanted was junk collapsing in on them if they had to dive into a hole to retrieve their prize.

An exoframe was powerful, able to lift a great deal of weight, but it wasn't armor.

It wouldn't stop sharp or piercing pieces of wreckage from harming them if they stumbled or if it fell upon them.

After several long hours of grueling work, the pair had established a workable area

They hadn't yet excavated the Metal, but Priyanka was satisfied that it was a good start, a good foundation.

The crashing sound of shifting, falling machinery nearly drowned out a startled cry from Deshel.

Priyanka turned to see the man clinging to a computer bank, his legs over the edge of large gap that had suddenly appeared.

"You alright?" The concern in her voice was genuine.

He didn't answer, staring down into the dark void below him.

"Deshel!" The worry in her voice now was tinged with some anger and impatience.

Deshel looked up at her, his voice was both urgent and excited, "Yeah… Yeah, I think so. But you'd better take a look at this."

The junk-merc's jaw clenched as she made her way delicately over to him, cursing the man under her breath for frightening her so.

Reaching out to him, she gripped the frame of his forearm, and pulled him to safety.

"Thanks," he nodded but immediately looked back toward the crevice he had almost been swallowed into. "Look close," he said.

Screaming Metal (Part 011)

Priyanka had had enough. Her voice took a stern, icy tone, "Are you finished?" Her eyes met the both of theirs in turn.

She reminded them of their contract, "You know the risks of every job. This one's no different. This Metal is going to bank us."

She continued, "So unless you'd like to forfeit and disembark here and now, back to your stations. Discussion over."

Suen looked as if she might say something, but she returned to her console without a word.

Deshel, if anything, looked relieved and somewhat ashamed. He nodded and slipped back into his couch.

With a deep breath, Priyanka followed suit.

She called over her shoulder. "We have three to four hours of sunlight at best. ScrapHounds will probably be back around then, too."

"I want a partial reveal of the Metal before we leave to make camp tonight. Suen, drop the coordinates into Navigation." Back to business.

Suen's reply was quick and professional. "Done."

Priyanka took the physical steering yoke for soft-touch guidance to bring the Alley Cat around to the destination coordinates.

The entirety of the Alley Cat was enclosed; a network of small cameras covering the ship gave her a clear view via her console.

A holodar with coordinates and digital crosshairs overlaid the cam-supplied visuals.

A soft beep and a pulsating blue indicator worked in tandem to show proximity, increasing in speed as she closed on the target.

Using the ship's thrusters, she edged them closer until finally all instruments agreed that she had centered the ship over the target area.

Unable to land on the uneven and unstable junk below, the ship would hover while they dug for the Metal.

Standing, Priyanka turned to Deshel. "Alright, Deshel, let's go."

The tall man stood, opened an overhead locker and grabbed a backpack-like e-tool kit. He headed to the cargo bay without a word.

Priyanka "Suen, keep your eyes peeled."

"You got it, Pree." Suen dipped her hands into the holo display of her console and drew the visuals up around her head.

The cargo bay was the most spacious area of the ship, so much so that the crew often relaxed in it during downtime.

Along the opposite wall from the entrance stood a rack of five light exoframes the crew used in possible heavy-work situations like this.

Priyanka had anticipated their use on this job, but was worried that even their strength might not be enough to retrieve the Metal.

There was literally tons of junk beneath them. This wasn't going to be a simple case of regolith excavation or jungle spelunking.

And they couldn't use explosives because they weren't authorized to use anything like that on-planet.

More to the point, a blast might crush or destroy the very prize they sought. So it came down to hard work.

But the kicker was, if Il'on was buried too deep, or had been crushed by the weight, they might be wasting their time.

Deshel was already into his exoframe and was busy attaching additional equipment to the legs of the super-reinforced apparatus.

Priyanka suited up as well and joined him in the center of the area where a large hatch occupied most of the floor.

Deshel turned to his boss. "Ready?"

Activating the magnetic stabilizers on the exoframe's soles, she nodded in reply and he activated a button on his forearm.

On thick cables, they descended from the ship a winch system embedded in the underbelly of the Alley Cat.

The pair stepped off the hatch, testing the mounds of packed junk beneath them before placing their full weight upon it.

Screaming Metal (Part 010)

"Yeah, it seemed like they were kind of half-joking," Deshel shrugged. "More concerned with the mood interruption the noise made."

"But the transmissions are real, and they emanate from this junkyard," Priyanka said voicing her thoughts aloud.

He nodded. "They seem to think that there's a busted transceiver in one of the older heaps buried somewhere."

"Someone alive, buried under all that junk?" Priyanka shook her head.

"That's why they think it's haunted. Ghosts calling them from the great beyond." Deshel shrugged and threw up his hands.

"Might be an automated distress beacon," Suen put in almost thoughtfully, now seemingly trying to diffuse the situation.

Priyanka made a face. "Why haven't we ever picked up any broadcasts before?"

His reply was simple. "We weren't listening in."

"So why do they?" Suen's aggression returned momentarily, but this time it didn't seem to be directed at him.

"They're not. It's breaking in on their waves. I don't think they really have a choice if they want to continue using radios." Deshel shrugged.

"Stupid," Suen commented.

"Radios are low power and little trouble to operate. Even a child with a basic education can repair one," he pointed out.

A suspicious look returned to Suen's face. "When were you even in contact with the locals?"

"When we went into town drinking last week," Deshel surprised she didn't recall.

She wasn't satisfied. "I don't remember you talking to any locals."

Deshel shook his head. "You got all hot-headed over the dirty looks they were giving us and left, remember?"

So Deshel had spent a little time with the locals. Priyanka had never forbidden her crew to mingle with the locals. It sometimes even helped.

Had it been a mistake this time? Was there something afoot? Were they being led astray? By someone on this planet? By someone in her crew?

Dark thoughts settled into her brain once more.

"Pree, if the Metal's functioning…" Deshel's voice faded, unsure of how to finish the sentence.

Suen also turned to look at her, her mouth slightly agape, brows raised in worry.

The eyes of her crew snapped her out of the grim vicious circle of thoughts.

"We don't have any concrete proof that Il'on is functioning," Priyanka said it, but part of her didn't believe it anymore.

Deshel's next question was fair but loaded. "Did your source specifically tell you it wasn't functioning?"

Priyanka gave him a scornful look. "What are you on about? A functioning Metal has never been recovered before."

"Until now. Maybe." But Deshel's eyes didn't meet hers and she recognized the worried look on his face.

Priyanka's lips drew into a thin, flat line. Her voice was soft but determined. "You think I've been taken in."

Deshel clarified, "I think we're in dangerous territory here."

Priyanka had had enough. Her voice took a stern, icy tone, "Are you finished?" Her eyes met the both of theirs in turn.

She reminded them of their contract with her, "You know the risks of the profession. This job is no different. This Metal is going to bank us."

She continued, "So unless you'd like to forfeit and disembark here and now, back to your stations. Discussion over."

Suen looked as if she might say something, but instead returned to her console without a word.

Deshel, if anything, looked relieved and somewhat ashamed. He nodded and slipped back into his couch.

With a deep breath, Priyanka followed suit.

She called over her shoulder. "We have three to four hours of sunlight at best. ScrapHounds will probably be back around then, too."

Screaming Metal (Part 009)

Instead of returning to her command couch as she usually did to emphasize she expected orders to be followed, she remained where she was.

Relief washed over Deshel's countenance as he saw her calm somewhat, but knew that he wasn't completely out of the woods with her yet.

Still he'd take what he could. Once this job was over, they were going to have a long talk. He could feel it. And he understood it.

Before he could turn back to his station though, Suen took a step toward him.

Her eyes held a cold, calculating edge. One Deshel had never seen there before, and he was immediately taken aback.

"So you think it's functioning." The words were angry. Yet the anger there was somehow different. Raw, skirting fanatic.

He found it puzzling in comparison to his own misgivings and fear in the revelation that the Metal might actually be functioning.

"Yeah… I've a pretty strong suspicion anyway."

The small woman took another step toward him, her aggression pressing him back into the bank of machinery behind him.

"How did you come by the transmissions?" Suen's voice was as frigid as her eyes.

He threw his hands up in defense. "I heard the locals talking about it, so I began searching for the broadcast bandwidth."

Another step forward and Suen was into Deshel's personal space.

"Hey, c'mon!" He pleaded, half-angrily. "Knock it off." He pressed his hands against Suen's shoulders to put space between them.

Suen didn't budge. "How long have you been listening to it?"

Deshel threw Priyanka a pleading look. "About a week."

Despite her own feelings, and perhaps against her better judgment, Priyanka stepped in, taking Suen by the shoulder and pulling her back.

"That's enough."

"I want to know what he knows!" Suen turned her aggression on Priyanka.

Priyanka tried to calm the other woman. "So do I, and I understand your anger."

Suen shot back. "No, you have no idea!"

Stepping partially in front of Suen, she gave Deshel some breathing room. But not too much. She wasn't exactly happy with him either.

"Just work with me. Let's get the Metal and get off this planet. We can settle our differences..." Priyanka looked back at Deshel. "…later."

Suen was not so easily mollified. She continued to try and get around Priyanka, "Ask him how the locals know."

And to Deshel himself. "How do they know!?"

And in an effort to appease her weapons woman, "How do the locals know about the Metal, Deshel?"

The tall man shrugged. "They don't really. They think the junkyard's… haunted."

Suen, whose expression had been murderous moments before, took on a puzzled look. "Haunted?"

Priyanka also was taken aback by the reply, "What would give them that idea?"

Deshel relaxed slightly, but just slightly as he realized he was still boxed in the cramped area near his station.

"You heard that mess I recorded. They hear it every half week. Like I said, the Metal broadcasts every 109 hours."

He continued, "The info on the Metal your source gave us wasn't panning, but then that racket came on the local radio."

Priyanka pressed him to continue, "The local radio?"

"Yeah, like a pirate broadcast, it just breaks into whatever's on. They use an older radio wave system on the planet to communicate."

Priyanka closed her eyes and shook her head. "Yes, I know, but what the hell does that have to do with anything?"

Deshel put his hands back up in a calming gesture, "When I inquired, they said the area was haunted. Their words, not mine."

The look on Suen's expression was one of outright incredulity. She repeated. "Haunted?"

Screaming Metal (Part 008)

And manhandling her as her earlier captors had, he shoved her through a portal and then thrust something small and hard into her hands.

His scraggly, bearded face had appeared out of nowhere before her like a large moon in orbit around her person.

"You were the finest crew member an old dog like myself could ever hopeful, girlie. You take care of yourself. Trust not even your fathers."

And just as quickly, his visage was gone and the familiar feel of pressurization as a hatch closed.

Lifeboat. He had shoved her into a lifeboat! She had watched through the small window as he prepared to launch it.

She had banged on the door, but he simply smiled. Seconds later, he had crumpled as the flash of a laser pistol caught him in the side.

"Sakal!" She had screamed.

But the face that had appeared in her line of sight was M'poz's, the first officer. In his hand, the laser that had cut Sakal down.

The man had sneered at Priyanka. And set about punching in the keycode that would reopen the hatch.

Before he could finish, the sneer had faded as his expression went slack. He had fallen away and Sakal rose, a large, bloodied knife in-hand.

From the look in his eye, Priyanka knew she would never see her mentor again.

The locking mechanisms had disengaged and the rockets fired.

And just like that, the ship, Sakal, and the life she had known for the past three years were gone.

Two days later, she was picked up by the sole cruiser that made up Jouni's solar defense force.

They'd come in search of the boat after picking up signs of the attack on the Locos from ground-based holodar, and finding the boat missing.

The item her old captain had pressed into her hands? The man's entire savings in cred chips. Enough to start a new life.

The past finally loosened its grip on her – and while the sour taste of remembrance faded, a tortured look remained on Priyanka's face.

She glared at Deshel with an anger in her eyes that was not completely directed at him.

The man straightened under her gaze. His answer was blunt and defensive. "No! I would never do that. Ever!"

There was a strong honesty in it Priyanka wanted to believe, but her shock and anger were overwhelming.

What the hell had Deshel been thinking? When had she ever just given up on salvaging a Metal?

There had been times they had been forced to give up. Times when their information or a source had been false.

But she had never just given up. Especially not when they were so close, not when leads were throwing themselves at her crew.

So what the hell was going on?

This was a crew she had hoped was built on the bonds of friendship and trust. Bonds that come together in the cold wilds of space.

Bonds that had to be forged lest people died.

To finish this job, she needed Deshel and Suen. Bickering would get them nowhere. She needed to calm herself. If only to finish the job.

She held her breath, glaring at him for several long moments. When she finally let it out, it was choppy with anxiety.

In an effort to alleviate her uneasiness and anger, she redirected her energy and thoughts.

Priyanka looked him in the eye, "Do the coordinates you have match Suen's?"

Looking all the world like a man who was ready to fall on his own knife, Deshel spoke nervously, "Priyanka, I–"

She held a hand up to stop him, "Do they, or don't they?"

Deshel nodded vigorously. "They do."

She relaxed her stance slightly. "Then let's get us a Metal and get the hell out of here."

Screaming Metal (Part 007)

"I'm not sure yet; I'm working on it. It's fat data, whatever it is." A whisk of Deshel's hand threw a graph above his console.

He was right. Whatever the Metal was broadcasting, it was heavy. What would it be transmitting? That mishmash of noise? Why?

Deshel continued. "The transmissions allowed me to calculate its position..." The look on his face was guilt-ridden and tense.

"You knew where it was all the time and didn't tell me?" Priyanka's voice lowered to a growl barely heard above the din of the room.

Deshel stood to face her. "I didn't know for sure it was the Metal. How could I? Why would I even think that?"

Priyanka jabbed a finger at him, her voice growing stronger. "But now you do. You had your suspicions and yet you didn't inform me."

"We hadn't been able to locate it, and not really knowing who was behind the transmissions... And well, I thought you might give up."

"Are you serious? Give up? Wha–" Priyanka's face flashed in anger, "Have you sabotaged us, Deshel!?"

Priyanka's heart beat hard in her chest and her arms began to shake with rage and a nervous fear of betrayal.

Her fist clenched tightly behind a bank of machinery where Deshel couldn't see it.

Fingernails cutting deeply into her palm, fear rose in Priyanka's breast and memories of her past returned to haunt her.

Priyanka had been working aboard the Locos under a captain named Sakal, the man who had taught her everything she knew about junk-hunting.

With a crew of four, he had done well and paid fair. No one was going to get rich under him, but Priyanka had been able to save.

He was a master mentor, taking great pains to explain his methodology behind locating Metals – digging into local lore being his preferred.

There were always clues, always hints of Metal "treasures" to be found wherever there were settled planets.

Captain Sakal hadn't wasted their time skulking around uncharted or potentially dangerous planets.

He just had preferred to pull a braincore from the comfort of a world with good food and drink if possible.

Sakal had often laughed, claiming he was attuned to the universe, using his info analysis talent to cherrypick planets and braincores.

The three years she had served with him had formed the core of her own methodology.

Nevertheless, everything came to a treacherous, abrupt end when the first mate decided to throw in with a group of pirates.

She had woken to the sound of heavy EVA boots clanking on the metal grating in the corridor outside her alcove.

But the dim, evening-setting lighting and a sleep-addled brain had kept her from recognizing danger until it was too late.

Harsh helmet light and rough, gloved hands had yanked her out of her sleep hammock to the cold floor with a merciless efficiency.

She barely had had time to cry out before she was being unceremoniously dragged down the passageway.

Twisting and jerking, Priyanka had tried to loose herself from the large, EVA-suited forms that pulled her along.

It had earned her a kick to the gut for her trouble. And so, doubled over, she had allowed herself to be hauled down the corridor.

The sound of a cracking helmet had been followed by a hollow grunt-cry and the telltale flash-bark of a laser pistol.

The voice had been a harsh whisper in the gloom. "Pree!" The captain. Then his firm, confident grip. "Get up!"

Her heart had raced as she stood, his arm on her elbow.

"School's out. It's graduation day, kiddo." The older man had told her.

Screaming Metal (Part 006)

"Ask it to identify itself, Suen."

Deshel interrupted, "Are you kidding? Anyone on the other end is going to tell us exactly what we want to hear."

Priyanka shot back, "And what answer would that be, Deshel? Tell me." She cocked her head. "Who knows why we're here except us?"

Until this moment, she had doubted any one on this backwater planet knew of Il'on's existence, or of the Alley Cat's true intention here.

Registered to supply the several small cities scattered across the planet, they'd been able to get permission to stay several weeks.

It had been a simple task to get "legal" and should have raised zero suspicion. So why the hell was everyone so jittery all the sudden?

Was Deshel hiding something? Or Suen, perhaps?

The job itself and her information on Il'on had come from a source she trusted implicitly.

She looked at Suen whose hand hovered over her console, paused in doubt.

"We came here looking for a Metal. We've found it…" Priyanka paused, unsure of how to continue.

"It found us," Deshel cut in.

She challenged them. "Shouldn't matter. Even if that's the case… Even if it's a functioning Metal. A job's a job."

The bridge remained still.

"I don't know what the hell you want me to tell you. I shouldn't have to convince you to finish. You're getting paid."

Suen gave a disdainful look before averting her eyes and nodding slightly. Priyanka turned to Deshel expecting the same.

He took a deep breath, struggling to meet her eyes. "Pree… I…"

Priyanka cut him off.

"Suen, tighten beam your holodar for a while. Make slow sweeps. Let me know the moment any of the locals take a piss behind a bush."

"Deshel, scan for communications and data packages."

Deshel asked, "What if the transmission isn't meant for us? What if it's meant for someone else?"

Priyanka rubbed her temples. "Give me the coordinates our caller gave you, Suen."

Suen replied, "85 degrees west, about 300-odd meters."

"That's pretty close. We weren't too far off," Priyanka said, noting their accuracy.

"Pree, please!" Urgency filled Deshel's plea. "Will you just listen to me? Just for a moment. Before we go digging anything up?"

The scornful, tired look on Priyanka's face told Deshel she was listening. His fingers rushed over his console.

Once again, noise broke out across the tight confines of the bridge, leaping across aural tones and harmonics.

Earsplitting squeals, verbal snatches, white noise, and frequency modulations wrestled, mixed, and then became a continuous throaty croak.

It sputtered on for several moments before becoming something almost human…

"Come... I am here. Worship me and I shall bestow upon thee, power and protection. Come, and my fall shall be redeemed..."

It was breathless, one word flowing into the next in a ceaseless sermon, alternating between near-weeping tones and "righteous" anger.

"What insanity is this?" Priyanka muttered.

Suen's mouth hung open in shock.

The language was Galactic Standard, yet alien in tone. It switched several more times in as many moments. Voices, noise, nothing...

Priyanka shivered.

"You recorded it?" Suen was visibly upset.

Deshel craned his neck to see her, "If that's the Metal… If that's–" He thrust his chin at her console, "whatever's pinging us, yes."

A look of concern on her face, Priyanka touched Suen's arm. Suen shook it off violently and glared at Deshel.

Unconcerned, Deshel continued, "The machine broadcasts every 109 hours, give or take.

"The time it takes for an orbital satellite to reach a position above us, and receive a relay." Deshel pointed out.

Priyanka was almost afraid to ask. "A relay of what?"

Screaming Metal (Part 005)

Priyanka's GUI abruptly panicked, cascading in warning windows until the overload bled onto the screen with dozens of red error messages.

Growling in frustration, she swiped the console away, knowing she was going to have to localboot.

She slid her couch back, and reached for the bootswitch just as the overhead speakers exploded in an aural assault.

Priyanka hastily stood, hitting her head on an overhead compartment in the cramped space. Suen, too, was on her feet, hand over her ears.

The deafening noise had the young woman hunched over in near pain as she made her way to a hardwired terminal.

Looking over to Priyanka, Suen acknowledged her boss with a nod. In return, Priyanka mouthed a command.

Quick, practiced strokes into the built-in, physical terminal there brought the cacophony to an end. Suen let out an explosive breath.

Priyanka cursed. And then barked, "Report!"

It came out harsher than she intended, but her crew knew it was frazzled shock, and not their performance that had provoked it.

Deshel, the only one who remained seated, tapped commands, but remained silent as he pored over the information displayed before him.

Priyanka awaited an answer. In the interim, she took a deep breath as she watched Suen return to her own console.

Calmly, and somewhat humorously to ease any tension she may have inadvertently created, Priyanka spoke to no one in particular.

"Remind me to have system mute buttons installed at every terminal next time we put into port."

Grimacing as her ears rang, she pressed her fingers to her tragi and pushed them inward to relieve it. Not that it really helped.

"Deshel, I want you to scan the systems for hack–"

"Pree, I have a reading!" Suen jumped back in her couch; the urgency in her voice rekindled the tension.

"Incoming bogeys?" A frequent question in their line of work, but one avoided trouble with perpetual caution.

"I've got it, too." Deshel chimed in, dismissing several open programs with a swipe of his hand before his fingers danced over his keyboard.

"Doesn't match any corresponding broadcast I've recorded on-planet to-date. Live and directed straight at us," he replied.

"This is…" Suen jumped in. She turned to Priyanka, "It's a beacon, followed by a short-burst transmission. Both constantly pinging us."

"Are you trying to tell me that someone's calling us?" Priyanka asked.

Deshel joined his boss to look to at Suen, but the other woman remained focused on her screen.

The glow of the screen played over Suen's conflicted features. "I… I'm not sure, but…"

Priyanka took a deep breath. If they were being approached, they needed to skedaddle post-haste. What was Suen conflicted about?

"Spit it out, Suen."

"I've got a reading on the Metal." Suen returned, finally looking back over her shoulder.

"The Metal?"

"It just pinged its coordinates to us."

"Pinged its coordinates..." Priyanka parroted in disbelief.

Pinged its coordinates? The junk huntress' mind was blanks for several moments, unsure of what action she should take.

The Metal was functional? As in, it wanted them to find it? A cold shiver ran up Priyanka's spine. Why would it do that?

"Are you sure?" She crowded in behind the woman's couch, stooping to get a look at the screens.

"I think so… I mean… the signal is coming from here in the junk." Suen stumbled over her words. "Beneath us…"

Deshel was as stunned as Priyanka. "It knows we're looking for it?"

The junk merc thought hard about the implications.

Was it a trap? Would it lead them to the alien machine whereupon... what, would happen?

"What is the possibility that this is a bogus signal, Deshel?" Priyanka asked.

Deshel's eyes remained glued to his screen, "I can't be one-hundred without more time to analyze it."

"Suen, you are absolutely sure that the signal is not originating from elsewhere?"

The woman shook her head. "If you mean a retransmission beacon, no. The source itself is located within the junk around us."

Priyanka pressed. "Deshel, could it be a recording? Something we've tripped?"

Deshel answered, "I-I don't have any information. It... It could be."

So a trap was possible. But set by whom? Locals? Pirates? Other junk hunters? The Metal itself?

Only the other possibilities made sense. What reason would a functioning Metal have for calling attention to itself?

"A functioning Metal?" Priyanka asked aloud without expecting an answer.

Suen jumped up, "I don't like the way you're talking, Pree!"

Priyanka was taken aback. Where had that come from? Did the idea of a functioning Metal frighten Suen that much?

The junk huntress couldn't say she blamed the other woman. She wasn't even sure how she felt.

"Relax, Suen." Priyanka's answer was a barely controlled exhalation. "Let me think."

The two stared at each other for several moments before Suen's stance softened and she peevishly slumped back in her couch.

Priyanka clenched her jaw. If her crew was this upset by the prospect of a functioning Metal, what exactly would the salvage of one mean?

She felt her chest tighten. This was not good. Not at all.

Screaming Metal (Part 004)

Metals…

Outside of scientific texts and history books, the machines now existed mostly in legend and folklore.

According to scholars though, they had once blazed across the unknown expanses of the universe.

Set in motion long before humanity had left the cradle of Earth, their cracked carcasses now lie across hundreds of moonscape battlefields.

Buried in regolith and mystery, they technically became the first alien intelligence humanity encountered – albeit indirectly.

Moreover, they were an attestation of the potential existence of a second alien intelligence: The Metals' creators.

This brought quiet, puzzled academic query at first, and later heralded small scientific advances from acquired Metal tech and components.

As mankind moved further out into the stars, the number of discoveries increased – a trend that brought unease.

Polite puzzlement gave way to worried, even militant pursuit of Metal knowledge and technology.

Concern of what lie in wait out the inky black reaches grew palpable; the fearmongering power-hungry turned this to their advantage.

With the dissolution of a central government centuries before, there was no agency of reassurance. No one to keep the boogeyman at bay.

No one to stop the near-defenseless masses from being slaughtered by aliens... or their own kind.

Alliances, already dangerously fragile, dissolved. Skirmishes broke out, colonies burned, and millions died.

In the plus column, these “slow wars,” fought over vast distances and strained by limited resources, fizzled quickly.

Over several generations, it became clear the Metals were not Trojan horses waiting to rise and lay waste with their superior technology.

Nor were they being used to monitor from afar by masters who would come to enslave humanity.

They were merely non-functioning machines, and while they did give up some of their secrets, they remained, overall, an enigma.

In primary school, Priyanka had been fascinated by the Metals to the point of obsession.

She had begged her fathers to tell her bedtime stories, checked out all the library books she could, and even started a fan club.

On summer nights when the weather had been nice, she had slept under the stars, and dreamt of befriending behemoth cavaliers.

She collected anything and everything said to be of Metal origin she could get her hands on.

After a number of Metals had been discovered within the Common Worlds of the Zenith star cluster where she'd grown up,

Priyanka had proceeded to plead with her fathers for weeks on end to take her to see their museum-displayed remains.

In her exuberance, she had convinced herself that she could unravel their alien mystery, if only she could see them.

While childish fantasy at best, it hadn't changed her eventual gravitation toward a career as a “Metal reclamation specialist.”

Joining a "junk hunt" crew at 19, she worked her way across the galaxy, but never once met a functioning Metal.

Years in space tempered youthful exuberance, giving away to a somewhat jaded, and more practical desire to profit from her love of them.

Alien technology. A whole new lifeform. A key to a mystery. A door to a better life. The Metals were fantasy and reality in one.

The braincore, with all its thousands of years of stored information, was the most coveted – a potential trove of information.

New galaxies, technologies, potential threats, locations of long lost treasures… all locked away within.

But no one Metal braincore was completely decipherable, and some were complete gibberish.

Those that had been cracked or open to reading could provide the code to help unlock the mysteries of another.

Demand for them was high, but they were not always in the most hospitable environments.

Moreover, locating Metals that hadn't already been looted was a real task in and of itself.

Long weeks of both research and travel to the more remote wilds of the galaxy just to peek at colonist folklore was essential.

As was traipsing across poisonous landscapes in an effort to dig a braincore from its Metal coffin.

In its own way though, it was an addiction. A thrill some couldn't live without. Priyanka counted herself among them.

That meant sticking a portion of her funds back into the Alley Cat – her ship and, more importantly, her home.

Deshel and Suen had their respective abodes in separate systems, but not Priyanka, she preferred the open depths of the galaxy.

She'd be happy as a bug in a rug if she could eventually find herself a little corner of the galaxy to cozy up in.

Just settle down and pull the very fabric of space over herself.

Making that happen meant finding Il’on.

Screaming Metal (Part 003)

The constant soft background noise of the ship throbbed and hummed throughout the cramped space as silence fell over her crew at work.

Priyanka punched in commands at her station and sat still as a full-shell GUI properly synced and the light of it extended over her.

Unlike Deshel's virtual console, the full-shell was a virtual interface that extended 180 degrees outward and over to encase the user.

Initially created to allow military officers to visualize entire battlefields, hers was a modified market version.

Priyanka had had it installed in the Alley Cat to give her an edge over competitors, pirates and local authorities alike.

The cutthroat business of reclaiming Metals wasn't for amateurs or hobbyists; she was ready to fight or flee at a moment's notice.

It had been the paramount lesson she'd learned from her own captain as the man was pushing her into a lifeboat above the planet Jouni.

A lesson she wasn't planning on reenacting for her own crew, Deshel and Suen.

The pair had been on the Alley Cat for several years now and had contributed greatly to the trio's overall success.

Their combined diligence and dedication had allowed the trio to pull off some tricky and dangerous jobs.

Deshel worked his console magic to locate the alien A.I.s in their riven graves and excavate their digital souls.

Among the tricks at his fingertips were kernel signatures, transmissions, echo location and precious material scans.

Loosing his tools with the finesse of a maestro conductor, he extrapolated data, sniffed out his marks, and laid bare riches.

While Suen, her eye on holo-radar and finger on the trigger, was security and weapons.

Quick of reflex, and intuitive, she could gauge a threat level and counter it with an exacting measure of rebuff.

Ever cautious of pushing the envelope of engagement, she opted for subterfuge to keep the crew in a position to finish a job.

Weapons were a last resort, of course. The Alley Cat wasn't built for war, it was built for haul and hauling ass.

Maybe it was because the universe was full of safe, comfortable, exertion-free worlds to which people could emigrate…

that some naturally detested the idea outright. The thought of having life handed to them didn't sit well.

They yearned for a life that brought a sense of satisfaction through hard work… or even strife.

Priyanka could understand and respect this. To have everything handed to you was to simultaneously enslave yourself.

People became helpless to feed, clothe, employ or even educate themselves. That was not the life for her.

She wanted the freedom to come and go as she pleased. Wanted to know her next meal came out of her own pocket.

Wanted to feel the satisfaction of hard work and acquisition of knowledge.

She respected settlers like the Shake Hands colonists for wanting a world they could work.

She wanted to work it, too. Just in her own way. And soon enough, she'd be gone and she'd be just a little richer for her efforts.

Scavenging Metal tech and parts was good money. She didn't lead an ostentatious lifestyle, but Priyanka wasn't complaining.

The crew wasn't either. In fact, Deshel and Suen were free to leave any time. That they were still with her counted for a lot.

They were absolutely invaluable on a job like this. Who else would help her sift through a junkyard the size of a city for a braincore?

Not many.

She snorted softly as she watched the recognition software crank through its task. Il'on, you ungrateful hunk of junk, where are you hiding?