FALAHA'S JOURNEY: A Spacegirl's Account in Three Movements

Episode #30

Mission Log: [2.44.7.15.11].267.8.2 - 30.19.4.[12]

End of the thirty-first hour of the second day of ninth week, year 267 on the Short Count, Commonwealth Main Time.

Stellar System Klia

Commander Trainee Falaha Kierenen kennar Fargann, standard age five, the remaining crew member of DIVE-type spacecraft Quennah; Mission Specialist, Defense Force Engineering Officer Tagranat Baro Kljvk, standard age thirty-eight, the remaining native of stellar system Klia, Medas; Bradoh, kennar Fargann test-type DIVE-gear; today we are attempting to do what no person has succeeded in doing before.

We were back in Quennah's cargo bay. Her life support and other systems were down, yet the atmosphere remained. Gravity was a lot higher here, meaning we had come a long way in from the vertex hull, relocating closer to the Core.

"Hmm... The pressure only dropped by eleven percent." Baro checked the environment, keeping Bradoh in stealth mode. "Atmospheric composition has undergone some changes as well, but it is breathable. Pretty disturbing, huh?" he said, totally calm. "Might be just locally—"

There was a huge hole in place of the transport gates, which looked like a bottomless pit in the dim emergency lighting. The darkness itself took a bite on Quennah and continued to consume her. Our cargo was all over the place. So was blood.

"What now?" The Medan didn't sound too optimistic. I hoped he wouldn't let his guard down.

"Those." I pointed at the gates. "Check if the hull repairers are still useable. We need to fix and close the gates. I'm going to make a complete check of the ship for damage and survivors. We must start repairing Quennah before entering the enemy's territory."

"Understood."

Bradoh marched to the hole and released small drones to scan the place Quennah had ended up in. It really was bottomless—from where we stood, the space stretched very, very far in every direction. It was so vast the whole armada of our biggest Explorer vessels could fit in. Our ship was in mid-air, pierced by multiple spikes coming from the top, bottom and the walls.

"This is worse than I thought." The Medan tried to hide it, but he was scared. So was I.

"I think it is safe for now. Whatever tore the hole in Quennah is gone. Let me out here and start doing repairs."

The broad blood trail on the floor led to the transport gates. A scene I'd already witnessed the night Grandfather died. Someone had been dragged through them into the depths of the enemy ship. I halted for a moment before collecting a sample.

It matched Aona's DNA.

"All hull repairers are operational," Baro's voice startled me. "But there's no general power to the ship. I'm going to use the remaining gearbots to construct a power grid for you to proceed. There are a few undamaged machines."

I approached the cargo bay entrance. The doors were destroyed and the bloodstain trail led further in.

"If it isn't enough, use Bradoh. Keep the commline open," I said.

"Sure. Not taking any weapons?"

"No, I'm good."

I slipped into the dim hallway. The blood here belonged to some of the Medans.

Blood.

During the two hundred years since the Encounter, I definitely wasn't the only one to kill a Hunter. Someone must have studied the creature before. However, this information never reached me or got into any open sources. If such info indeed exists, either it is strictly classified and Baro knows nothing, or he is hiding something from me. Just how much does the Medan know? And how much did my parents know, developing new weapons? And more importantly, why the silence?