2013.01.05 "Are we clear?"

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"Are we clear?"

I have my internal computers re-run the ship system checksums, and give a hopeful nod. Except that I'm not feeling particularly hopeful. Something in my old, repressed paranoia has found a resonant subliminal hum to taunt me with.

My Orbodun partner lets its big head sag between its massive shoulders, and scratches behind one fluffy ear with a set of long claws in an effort to self-soothe. "Whoooooha. Where the zark do we go now?"

That doesn't feel too important yet.

"Probably should go somewhere unexpected... How about a utopian planet?"

That's idioti... Oh. He's kidding. I give him a weary look, and see him stretching out a wan smile. "What do you know about Missionaries?"

The smile collapses. "Nothing, really, other than the impossible stories and the general assumption that it's all bullshit."

Damn. "Yeah. Me too."

"The key element about being shape-shifters always struck me as being kind of silly. But since we clearly encountered a shape-shifter, does that necessarily mean it was a Missionary?"

Huh. That's kind of a good point. I shrug. "They're also supposed to be scary combatants, and that is also a good description of what we faced."

"Yeah, but they're supposed to be super-legendary-good - such that there's no way we should be alive."

My quills bristle involuntarily. "There's no way we should be alive. We escaped because of a fluke."

The Orbodun gets quiet for a bit. Possibly reviewing the sensor data I shared.

An idea starts to form in my fear-addled brain, and I summon local star charts and associated meta-data.

"Maybe it wasn't a fluke."

I squint a beady red eye at him. "What do you mean?"

"Maybe it's a valid tactic to try to use in future encounters."

That gets me reviewing the log of the fight too. My muscles twitch in sympathy of the ghost motions as I re-live it behind my eyelids. It really seems like it's mostly a struggle to avoid dying with just a futile-seeming swing that turned into a lucky hit. "I'm not seeing it."

"I think that the severance was the key element. It looks like the freed chunk of the thing ran away from the major portion, and that it then gave chase."

I look again. "Huh. That fits."

"We need to get ourselves more cutting weapons."

"Agreed." I nod. "Let's head to some place big. Maybe we can rustle up some old-timers who might know more specifics while we optimize our weapons for severance."

The Orbodun nods back. Then, after a pause, asks a question without looking. "Does that mean we stop overtly stomping around asking about the black mentalist robots?"

"Kind of hard to avoid wondering if there isn't a connection, isn't it."

"Yeah."

I concede. "Yeah; it's probably wise to keep a lower profile for a while until we get a better sense of what reality has in mind for us."

"Ha! You sound like a ZenPe. Say, you want a drink from this Coke™ machine I don't recall being here before?"