Glitch in the Mental System

“Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space…” a gruff individual said with a grin. He circled a bound human in a chair who appeared to be worse for wear, putting an unfriendly hand on their shoulder, “or so they say.”

The human spat a wad of partially coagulated blood from his mouth to the floor and laughed dryly, slowly raising his head to look upon his interrogator. He was dirty, bruised, and had his own drool occupying the wiry strands of his beard, while his defiant blue grey eyes shined. “You’ll have to do better than that if you want anything outta me.”

The interrogator slapped the seated man across the face hard enough to set him off balance. Stepping back after the slap, he circled and observed his captive righting himself, musing playfully. “Don’t play dumb, Randall. You’ll talk… they always talk.”

Randall snorted as he leaned back with a groan. “You hear that in a hollow vid somewhere?” He watched his captor go straight faced as he continued. “Yeah, probably while watching some action movie involving spies.”

His captor clenched his fists and motioned as he was about to strike Randall again when the door behind him opened. Light flooded the dim room as a slender figure stood silhouetted by the bright hallways beyond, and a feminine voice spoke. “The boss has brought in a falmidian, Mark. You can go ahead and rest.”

Mark relaxed his demeanor as he was relieved of his task. He looked at Randall as his cocky grid dropped away. “Well Randy, I guess it doesn’t matter what you wanna tell me anymore. Better you than me, and maybe you’ll have some sanity left in your noggin when the alien’s done with you.”

“This must’ve cost your boss quite a bit,” Randall remarks, “never figured myself as valuable goods.”

Mark shrugged, stepping away, “I don’t know, but I wouldn’t wanna be in your place right now.” The door slid shut behind him, and the light of the room turned from dim to darker as the lights occupying the corners of the ceiling power down.

Alone, Randall took a moment to try and confuse his own memories, repeating “that didn’t happen” under his breath rapidly as he tried to force himself to forget, but he knew his effort were to be wasted. Suddenly, the hair on the back of his neck rose and a sense of dread befell him. He was not alone.

“I do not have the pleasure of meeting many humans,” spoke a sultry male voice from the darkness. Delicate fingers danced along Randall’s shoulders, caressing his flesh with pointed claws. His voice was close to Randall’s ear as he continued, “though your kind have bounced back from near-extinction quite well.”

“I don’t meet many falmidian Psion’s who are mercenaries,” Randall remarked, trying not to move much.

“Falmidians though, you have met,” the mercenary said. “You are marked… part of a house. I find this interesting.” A soft white glow is seen from the falmidian’s eyes before Randall, which he took as a sign of its gathering energy. “Are you then, a former pet?”

“From pet to family member… Randall pax Morax.”

“You’re a pet with a full name… fascinating.” An orange light illuminated the room as a HUD lifted from the falmidian’s wristband, and he spoke to it. “This one is marked. My fee has increased, and an invoice is sent. Once payment is processed I shall begin, and unless you have very advanced stealth systems I suggest you be on guard at that point.” He then cleared his throat, as if not used to speaking so much. An average built falmidian, he was a slender and tall bipedal with two arms and a tail. His species had no hair, but had many features similar to a reptile, save for a pair of large cat-like ears and a lack of any apparent nostrils. He wore a long black coat with short sleeves and a very tall collar.

Randall took in his appearance and said, “Can I at least know the name of my inquisitor?”

The falmidian looked from the device to Randall and his tail flicked lightly. “Well, I do not harbor any ill will towards you, so I don’t see why not. I am Zaeda ix Ezadorak.” His left ear flicked and his head snapped back to his device. “Ah, that was quick!” Closing the screen of his device, he put a finger upon Randall’s forehead.

Colors of innumerous spectrums slid through Randall’s vision as Zaeda’s voice came like it was played at half speed, echoing as a cacophony through space. “No time for formalities, pax Morax. Your value outweighs your family’s ire.” Randall’s mind was on fire, but he pushed to concentrate… to focus on one memory.

Randy slid a spatula underneath a large piece of meat then flipped it deftly, reveling in the sound of its sizzle. He was in a kitchen amid various other pets, helping to create a feast for the celebration of Re'anta il Morax’s betrothal. She was his mistress, and she was kind and benevolent to him. This was the day she was to become Re'anta val Morax. The connecting word between house name and given name was important in falmidian society, and often denoted a status - especially within one of the powerful families.

Amid the pets, a single out-of-place falmidian wandered, looking side to side as he sauntered down the midway, finally stopping beside Randall. He held a hand out to the rack of ribs Randy was about to baste. “Their fate is not yours. Is that something your mistress would say to you?”

“Sometimes,” Randy replied as he wiped sweat from his brow. “She would show me the fate of pets who were either too defiant or had particularly cruel masters when she would say that.” He paused before adding “It would always make me uneasy.”

Zaeda nodded, “Your attention to detail here is impressive for a pet. The smell is the strongest sense I’m getting here, which is a welcome thing for one of my kind. Though, many of the other cooks and dishes are… out of resolution.”

Looking around at the other cooks, Randall could see their faces were missing, and it was hard to determine the species of some. Their dishes and cooking stations seemed basic and uninteresting, and some of them appeared as amorphous blobs. “Well, I couldn’t pay attention to everything.”

“Well, as impressed as I am with your ability to do this to me, I’m afraid this is not what we’re here for.” Zaeda said, though his mouth didn’t move. “I do not want to do you any great harms, and I would appreciate if you did not push me to that point. This is not about cooking, it is about the cargo of that ancient space station.”

Zaeda’s eyes shone brightly and everything became blurry as the walls of Randall’s memory collapsed on the pair. He fell to his knees, clutching his head and groaning in pain, closing his eyes tightly.

“Do not think to insult my intelligence either,” Zaeda said as he walked past the crouched Randall while peering around the massive cargo hold of a space station. Wires hung from the ceiling and panels were falling from their rivets. The space was lit by a set of green light emitting lanterns set about on old unmarked crates. There were four others in the hold, exploring the area with flashlights, but something was off. Time itself was frozen, as Zaeda had pulled a snapshot of Randall’s memory.

Randall stood up and sighed. “This is not the first time inside my own head with a falmidian escort.”

“Escort?!” Zaeda turned and Randall felt the world around him haze for a breath as his mind suddenly felt like someone shoved a piece of glass into his brain. He fell to his knees this time, and bit his lip in pain with a loud grunt. “There,” Zaeda remarked, “now it is genuine pain. This is not a pleasure trip with a curious il Morax looking to see how her pet primate compares. This is business.” Zaeda’s words echoed in the halls of Randall’s mind, reverberating like a bowling ball rolling on metal with amplified acoustics.

Randall’s eyes fluttered violently as he tried to hold on to his own thoughts, and as he pushed himself, the cargo hold grew in depth and darkness. The figures became hazier and the details of the containers became blurred.

Zaeda sat upon one of the containers and mused, “Eikarians thought humans would be pushovers when they started their war… but tenacity in defiance is a strong trait in you evolved primates.” His tail flicked and he smoothed his coat out, tugging on his collar to make sure it was still standing upright.

“Or… maybe… I’m special…” Randall managed to speak through gritted teeth, wracked by the wildfire of pain burning through his mind.

“No, I think not,” Zaeda responded calmly as his eyes shone brightly, “but don’t fret. Nobody is.” He rolled and twirled his hand in front of him, and the memory started turning into smoke, being pulled towards his fingers and intertwining with them. It was mere moments before all that surrounded them was blackness, and Zaeda brought the smoke to his mouth and blew upon it, releasing it to their surroundings once more.

“Randy!”

The quick shout brought Randy to sit up and shake his head. “What, huh?”

Beside him was a crewmate with a head resembling a shaggy dog. “You were asleep,” she said, “please tell me our landing vectors are alright.”

Randy took a look at the piloting console as he sat up. They were on course to dock with the ancient space station. He had pre-calculated the vectors in subspace and left the auto-pilot on to bring them into the approach ring. He yawned and stretched. “Yes Yaswei, we’re on course to land safely and securely.”

“Good,” she said in a hushed voice. “I’d like to survive this journey. Braddock’s goons give me the creeps.”

They both look back towards a pair of muscular canine-like aliens decked out in combat gear silently sitting and staring back at them. Randall and Yaswei exchange a nod. “Why don’t you check on the others, see if they’re all geared up? I can meet you all at the airlock when I finish the docking sequence.”

Her tail wags as she nods. “You got it! Oh and, thanks again for what you did back on Marheim.” She hops down from the seat and heads off to the back of the cockpit, cautiously passing by the combat equipped goons.

“Yeah...” Randy reminisced a little about Marheim. If they hadn't made that stop, Imeera would've still been with them. He shook his head after a moment, and turned his attention back to the view-port.

The ancient space station dwarfed the transport frigate Randy was piloting as a human would dwarf an ant. It had many wings attached to it, and giving the appearance that it was once a living habitat and a center of trade. Who owned this station, and how long it had been floating in space was information lost to time. In its millennia adrift and forgotten it went undetected without a whisper of activity, mistaken as a dwarf planet traveling on an extended star path through a nebula gas cloud. Recently discovered and declared off limits by the Korbald Republic until a proper investigation could be conducted, there have been a few criminal scouts slipping through the patrols to get first hand privileges at the cargo hold.

Only half of the adventurous that go come back, so under duress and threat of life ending events, Randall and his friends have been conscripted to gather a specific container marked by one such missing treasure hunter.

After bringing the ship safely into docking bay 4, Randall went down to the airlock to join the other five members of the crew, followed by the two thugs from Braddock. Getting into their suits there was Yaswei and Utsami, both korbald sisters, Jo'kar the reptilian tzaarian, Khadik the bug-like stachika, and last was Daaze who was a slender tzaarian that joined them on Marheim.

There was an air of pensive excitement among the crew. Exciting to explore sections of a station nobody has touched in millennia, but nervous about the bodyguards sent by Braddock. As they dropped down from the bay of their frigate, the crew entered the docking bay on foot. Some of the lights from the station still lit, flickering to life for the briefest of moments before going dim again. Yaswei was the first to break out one of the disposable lanterns, twisting it lightly and making it shine with a cool green light.

As they traversed the dingy grey corridors, a haunted feeling traveled with them. The feeling of a watchful, baleful presence. They stopped at the T section of another hallway, where flickering lights put marks on display. Randall could see deep gouges in the flooring and walls, and two particularly pronounced lines leading down the length of the hallway.

“What do you think made those?” Yaswei broke the silence as she voiced the question on everyone's mind.

Jo'kar rolled his shoulders and took a step down the hall, pointing his frame forward as he investigated from a distance. “I bet there's loads of ways to the cargo bay in an old station like this one,” he stated. He turned to the rest. “I ain't afraid, but it's probably best to stick to well-lit halls.”

One of Braddock's goons huffed heavily. He waved a gun towards the hall. “Dey said dis place is abandoned. Nuffin' down 'ere.”

“Then where'd the rest of the treasure hunters go?” Randy said with a smirk. “You notice the other ships in the docking bays? Newer ships from different pirates and scavengers. Something isn't letting people go.”

Utsami whined, and Yaswei joined her with a similar sound. Khadik glared at Randy and said, “Can't just keep that part in, human? Let's focus on the task, then we can leave... all alive-like.”

“Shivering in your exoskeleton?” Randy fired back.

Khadik shook his head and took the moral high ground as he quietly lead them down a well-lit direction of the hall.

Randy realized he spoke out of term and followed afterwards, holding the light out. As they rounded a bend, he came up behind Khadik frozen in place. “Why'd you s-”

Khadik made a short hiss and held up a hand as the rest gathered behind him. Ahead there were no overhead lights bringing illumination. Instead, the shine from the green lanterns cascaded into the darkness, revealing a grim scene. Silence fell over the group as they looked upon the remains of one of the previous explorers. Many of the fallen bodies were in parts, to where it wasn't always obvious which limb went with which. The pale green glow shined off of slick substance which coated the floor and walls around what was... assumed to be... a group of 5.

Finally, Jo'kar broke the silence, quietly remarking “At least we can't smell it.”

Suddenly, as if reacting to his comment, a deep bass thrumming resonated through the air. Those with sensitive hearing were hunched over from sheer volume of the sound, trying feebly to not hear it. Red lights shone from the darkness, illuminating from the centerpiece of a large automaton. A long headpiece bore a bright red light on one side, with three smaller lenses on the other. It lifted into the air above the group and stared down at Khadik and Jo'kar as they stood frozen in fear, staring back while the rest cowered from the volume of noise.

Two long slightly curved blades lifted on either side of the mechanical creature's body. The loud suddenly cut out, and the robotic head tilted as its lights shifted from red to teal. It produced a string of garbled noises, sounds that resembled language reproduced from different voices. As it did this, one of the long blades inched closer to Jo'kar.

Finally recovered, one of Braddock's goons whipped his gun and let loose a torrent of bullet fire at the automaton. In an instant, the lights switched back to red and its head snapped to the goon. As Jo'kar and Khadik dove for the floor, they could hear the goon scream in pain and horror. His hands were removed at his wrists and the large automaton had impaled the goon on both blades. Lifting him into the air, he was pulled away, still screaming, into the darkness.

The group was running before thinking, tearing down the halls of the ancient station, as they took any direction they could find in order to distance themselves from the horrors they had just witnessed. “What the hell was THAT?!” Yaswei somehow had the breath to shout out.

“Less talking,” Randy said, “more running!” As they came around a corner, they could hear thumping in the walls behind them. As they made distance from the corner, the lights flickered out, except a bright red glow that was fast approaching.

Khadik, up at the front, skidded to a halt, turned and ushered the team into a doorway. “Come on, into this room! We can't stay in the hall like this!”

Without argument, the rest followed him into the side room, and Khadik tried to manipulate the panel to close the door. His initial attempts were met with a steady blinking red light, and while the lights around the edge of the door flickered with life, he couldn't get it to move.

Jo'kar huffed and pushed him aside, digging his long black claws into the panel and pulling it off. The door's lights turned red and it slammed shut. The sound of the slamming was quickly followed by a loud pounding from the other side with such intensity the party jumped backwards. Even Braddock's remaining goon was visibly shaken, clutching his gun tightly.

In the intense air that followed, Utsami began crying uncontrollably, who was quickly comforted by Yaswei cradling her.

Randy had his hands out as if he was trying to balance himself. He was staring at his hand, which was trembling. “Okay... what... now?”

Jo'kar lashed his tail as he turned to the rest. “Get comfy. Look around the room... because we might be here a while.” He cleared his throat and found a container to sit on. “I guessed breaking the panel's connections would activate a safety measure and shut the door.”

Khadik glared at him, dumbfounded. “Guessed? You put our lives on the line with a guess... again?!”

Jo'kar shrugged and stared at Khadik, seemingly underwhelmed. “We're still alive... again.”

Randy took a look around the room, which appeared to be a lab of some form. Island counters were lined up in rows, each with a container at the side. Near the back was a large broken visual screen. “This room... kinda reminds me of class,” he remarks. For a moment he felt like he could see himself behind one of the counters, dissecting a small animal beside his class made, a young falmidian named Ko'ten, Re'anta's daughter. Other counters had falmidian children with their own pets, but he was the only human he knew of in the school.

Randall shook his head. He wasn't at class, he was in a space station that nobody was able to leave, being chased by what was likely the defense system.

Suddenly, a shout snapped Randy out of his thoughts. “Hey, I found something!” All eyes turned to Daaze. He had been quiet up to this point, but the thin tzaarian was in the corner of the room, pulling open an old side door. It was larger than normal, looking like some kind of service elevator door. “Looks like they had to bring big things up into this room directly. This here looks like it can go all the way down to the cargo bay.”

The group exchanged knowing looks, and nodded to one another before picking up and heading to the elevator. Utsami was still crying, but Yaswei was able to talk her into boarding with the rest.

Jo'kar slid his claws over an ancient control panel, which lit up before him. It had a number of options, and he appeared to be in deep thought for a few moments.

“Guess right again,” Khadik said, “and I owe you a case.”

Jo'kar waved off the promise before pressing one of the commands, then another, and then another. The door closed on its own, and the elevator began to go downwards.

A stillness descended on the group, even as they moved. The only sound between them was Utsami's crying. Finally, the elevator stopped with a loud, dulled thud. When the gates opened, they were in a massive cargo hold. The ceiling was taller than some buildings, and it was supported by numerous elevator spires. They dotted the hold, but it seemed the only reference they had of space and presence was flickering ceiling panels hanging awkwardly from different locations. The main lights weren't on, and aside from the malfunctioning lights, the only illumination was from the lanterns being held by the group.

Randy dug into his back pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. It was shaped to his rear, and had a location written hastily on it in black marker. 'E36-D7'

He looked around the hall, and noticed no correlation between the area and the actual galactic language. He saw no symbolism, aside from scorched lines marking each elevator in weirdly distinct patterns.

Suddenly, whipping around, Randy saw it. A crate with the marking 'E36-D7' on it.

How?

Daaze stood before the crate, slowly opening the lid. A bright luminescence shone from the interior of the container as it was opened. As he did, Randy felt blinded, but defeated.

He stood on the other side of the container, and he faced Zaeda as the falmidian Psion stared into the crate for a quiet moment. “This... this is...”

Randy nodded to him and said. “Yes, I know what it is. There's only one other place I've ever seen one of those.”

Randy and Zaeda spoke simultaneously. “The Ball of Houses.”

Zaeda lifted the luminous object from the box, and Randy had to shield his eyes. As it was held, it dimmed slightly, until Randy was able to look upon it. Zaeda held a large crystal between his hands. Slightly bigger than a human skull, the multi-faceted gem swirled with colors of every spectrum, contained within itself. Transfixed on the gem, Zaeda quietly spoke, “This is interesting, pax Morax. Do you know what it means?”

Randall shook his head. “I don't. I only know it's powerful, priceless, and dangerous.”

“Not quite.” Zaeda frowned lightly and furrowed his brow. “It means someone lied. To you, to me, to your employer. Someone did... as we know this was no accident.”

Randy raised a brow. “Wondering how they knew about this? Because I was wondering too, and I don't know.”

Zaeda narrowed his eyes. “We'll see about this. Ready to actually start at the beginning, pax Morax?”

Randy sighed and fell to his knees, mentally exhausted. “Do I have a choice?”

“No,” Zaeda responded simply. “Now that I know how high the stakes are, I am no longer cordial. I suggest you be co-operative.” His eyes began to glow brightly as the darkness around them became awash with light.