Outcast

Chapter 1

"Respectfully, Captain, eat my fucking ass. I calibrated those sensors myself! The readings are right!" Red-faced, 13 was shouting at the figure sitting in the command chair. The captain of the ship, the target of his wrath, sat confidently in the captain's chair on the deck of the ship. His rank was not obvious from his outfit, as he wore a simple, navy blue uniform consisting of a long, sleek jacket and straight pants. The jacket itself was familiar, reminiscent of old Dominion military outfits. The argument had been going on for about twenty minutes by now, and it was evident that 13 was getting a little frustrated.

"Jesus fucking christ 13, manners?" the Captain grunted and buried his face in his hands. One-Eye found this particularly amusing and laughed. The first officer of the ship. Recently, even more responsibility was on his shoulders, but it did not seem to bother him much. At least, he didn't show it.

"He's a true Harlan, that's for sure," he exclaimed.

"I wasn't this bad when I was younger, was I?" Captain asked, feigning desperation.

"Nah. You were worse."

13 groaned in frustration. He was being ignored. Again.

"Can we get to the fucking point? The scans show Praetorian energy signatures all over the planet's surface. This supply run is a bad fucking idea. It's a fucking disaster zone down there. One wrong move and it's like poking a Trellian wasp nest," 13 explained quickly, and pointed at a small screen where an image of the planet was rotating slowly.

Captain pinched the bridge of his nose and grumbled: "You're right. Of course. Engi? The situation with our engines? Is it gonna stay together until we get to the next system?"

Engi was an imposing figure wearing a mechanic's jumpsuit with belts and pockets full of tools and wiring. On his clean-shaved head there was a complicated augmetic with wires running to a cortical implant plug on the back of his head. He sighed, and scratched his short, scraggly beard.

"No."

"No?" Captain asked, his tone now coloured with barely-restrained irritation. "No?"

"The engine is fucked. A bunch of the electronics got burnt out. I rigged it with duct tape and chewing gum. We need the parts. If we try to jump into hyperspace our ship would break, and we would die. So, no." Engi was always brief and precise with his words. 13 was always very fond of that. He always meant what he said, in good and in bad. Engi, in 13's perspective, resembled a sledgehammer. Hard, blunt, practical. Reliable.

"I'm assuming the hard burn and the evasive maneuvres we took in the previous system because of those bandits are the cause? Captain asked. Engi merely nodded.

13 slammed the desk with his hands. "If we fuck up one tiny bit, if we get noticed at all, the whole planet is going to be up our ass all at once. We all know how the Praetorians work - they're blood-crazed drones ever since their carrier signal got cut out at the end of the War. They're still linked to one another. If we're noticed, we'll have an entire planet's worth of biomechanical zombies coming for us." He glanced around the room and forced himself to exhale slowly, calmly.

"I suggest we take up a geostationary orbit near the debris cloud around here," 13 pointed at a location on the screen, and continued his explanation, "we send out a few unmanned drones to trawl through the planetary debris. Maybe we'll find an intact satellite with compatible tech, or maps or whatever. Depending on the findings, we either take a short EVA to a wreckage or send a ground team to the surface for a precise scavenging op. Simple as that. The debris field should block out any errant signals or readings sensors might get and besides, we can't get the spare parts you need if we're all fucking dead."

The Captain was quiet for a moment. The pneumatic doors leading to the bridge of the ship opened, and Green, Harlan & Co's security officer walked in.

"The kid's got a point. Rather waste a few drones than one of us, right?"

13 felt his cheeks flush. "You heard me?" he asked, now feeling embarrassed for his earlier outburst.

Green laughed. "You wouldn't be a Harlan if you didn't lose your marbles every now and then."

He walked to the front of the bridge, and looked outside through a view-screen. Like the other Harlans, he was a tall, broad-shouldered figure. Despite the potential variation the cloning process could offer, all Harlans, regardless of their gender and expression, looked almost the same, based on one genetic template. Each member of the family, however, chose a unique way of self-expression, naming themselves after a deed they had done, or physical or mental features that they held in high regard. The Captain was Captain because he ran the ship. One-Eye was missing an eye, and it was covered by an eye-patch. Green was, possibly, the most obvious out of all: his entire head was tattooed a dark, militaristic shade of green. Dead giveaway. His clothing, too, reflected his name. Underneath a small combat vest he wore a deep-green military jumpsuit.

13 had no such name or identity. He was the ship's only Nameless Harlan. He was the first of the third iteration of clones on this ship. In ancient Terran belief that number was an ill omen, a harbinger of misfortune, but the rational minds of modernity chose to abandon the binding chains of pseudo-religious conjecture long ago.

At least, until the Great War swept across the known universe.

Green stood in front of a viewing port and glanced down at the planet far below. Something caught 13's eye: he could almost feel a profound sense of contempt radiating from the officer before him. As soon as the sensation had appeared, it vanished, and Green turned around and looked at the other members of the bridge crew.

"Alright, Cap. What're we doing?" Green asked.

"Engi, 13, get your asses down to the cargo bay and set up the drones. One-Eye, plot a course to the dark side of the planet, take a geostationary orbit and use the ship's scanners to check out if there's anything interesting in there. Keep long range scopes pointed at the planet, see if there's any changes."

There was a moment of silence. The captain frowned and sighed.

"Come the fuck on, guys. I didn't accept being the captain when you specifically asked me, to just to sit on my fucking ass in this chair and look at all the pretty shapes outside the ship. Get fucking moving, you assholes."

Simultaneously all the clones grinned mischievously in an identical manner, and gave a salute that was only slightly too rigid and overplayed to be taken seriously.

"Aye aye, captain," One-Eye cooed mockingly, and the crew dispersed to focus on their tasks.