The leviathan Rokan slid serenely through space two hundred metras above an unnamed gas-giant world on the edge of the Uncharted Territories. The massive bio-mechanical starship flew silently above the planet's sunlit northern hemisphere, bathed in the warm yellow light of the system's primary star as she continued her solitary orbit above the hazy, shifting violet surface of the world below.
The captain and crew of the elderly living-ship had assembled on the Command to observe the majestic beauty of the local sun setting over this gaseous world perched precariously on the rim of explored space.
"You do know that this is our third orbit," Talika Oren asked of no one in particular, making no attempt to mask the boredom she currently felt as Rokan continued to circle the murky violet world. "Are we sure we've got the right place?"
"Coming to the wrong planet for an illicit rendezvous is a new low even for us," Danaris rumbled grimly, his deep basso voice reverberating across the spacious command centre. The hulking Luxan mercenary casually leaned against one of the many curving organic supports that surrounded the large room, surveying the proceedings with the same customary disdain that Rokan's small crew had come to expect from him.
"Excuse me," Vardis interjected brusquely from her Pilot's den deep within the core of the massive leviathan. "But both Rokan and I take issue with the accusation that we have mistakenly brought you to a planet other than the one where you arranged to meet Captain Latoth."
Like all leviathans, Rokan was a creature of deep space. A self-aware, bio-mechanical being that had been imbued with sentience by an ancient and mysterious race, Rokan was large even by the standards of her massive species. Her colossal size had made her ideal for transporting cargo to the farthest reaches of explored space, allowing both Rokan and her pilot Vardis to see the galaxy whilst generating a reasonable profit for her crew as an independent transport ship. It was an equitable arrangement that had always proved fruitful for all concerned.
Leviathans rarely lived more than three hundred cycles, and at over two hundred and eighty, Rokan herself was now firmly ensconced in her twilight cycles. This advanced age had brought with it an attitude that Captain Ezra Darke would describe as cantankerous for the majority of the time, and downright petulant on occasion.
Superficially Rokan's tough organic outer hull lacked the lustre that it once had, but at a more fundamental level it could no longer regenerate as effectively as it had when the leviathan was younger. Significant damage that would once have been repaired in a few solar days could now take half a cycle to completely heal. Both internally and externally, Rokan was beginning to lose what had once been total control over the numerous systems that facilitated her own well-being and that of her crew. Not that Ezra was worried that he and his crewmates could at any moment be killed if the elderly leviathan involuntarily vented her internal atmosphere into space, but Rokan's gradual but definite decline was nonetheless a cause for concern, albeit one that was relegated to the back of his mind for the moment.
"No one is accusing you or Rokan of anything, Vardis," Ezra said sharply to silence any further bickering. Although he understood that the depth of the bond between pilot and leviathan meant that Vardis was extremely defensive of Rokan, he also knew that everyone's patience was beginning to wane after three tense arns orbiting the gaseous world below.
"Aren't we?" Danaris countered, pushing away from the support where he'd been leaning and striding purposefully across to the cluster of control consoles. "Am I the only person here who recognises the fact that this old leviathan is a decaying wreck that should have been consigned to a trash planet to be broken up cycles ago?"
"Leviathans don't get broken up," Ezra told him calmly, meeting the fearsome Luxan's gaze. "And Rokan has plenty of life left in her yet. But if you wish to leave this 'wreck' then we have a number of transport pods in our hangers. By all means feel free to take one."
Apparently unwilling to be drawn into a confrontation that he would inevitably lose, Danaris muttered something under his breath that was beyond the grasp of the current generation of translator-microbes and strode from the Command with a dismissive wave of his hand.
"Both Rokan and I appreciate your support, captain," Vardis said evenly once the Luxan had departed. "On a personal level I find Danaris to be an exceptionally unpleasant individual."
"In our line of work we can't afford to be without gentlemen like Mister Danaris," Ezra said. "Unfortunately men with his skills and experience don't tend to be masters of social etiquette." He paused. "That said, I'm not willing to just hang around here on the edge of the Uncharted Territories. Sooner or later we're going to attract the attention of a Peacekeeper patrol ship or worse still a Hannak cruiser. We'll give Latoth another arn, after that we'll write off this whole venture and head back to Nekesh."
The captain and crew of the elderly living-ship had assembled on the Command to observe the majestic beauty of the local sun setting over this gaseous world perched precariously on the rim of explored space.
"You do know that this is our third orbit," Talika Oren asked of no one in particular, making no attempt to mask the boredom she currently felt as Rokan continued to circle the murky violet world. "Are we sure we've got the right place?"
"Coming to the wrong planet for an illicit rendezvous is a new low even for us," Danaris rumbled grimly, his deep basso voice reverberating across the spacious command centre. The hulking Luxan mercenary casually leaned against one of the many curving organic supports that surrounded the large room, surveying the proceedings with the same customary disdain that Rokan's small crew had come to expect from him.
"Excuse me," Vardis interjected brusquely from her Pilot's den deep within the core of the massive leviathan. "But both Rokan and I take issue with the accusation that we have mistakenly brought you to a planet other than the one where you arranged to meet Captain Latoth."
Like all leviathans, Rokan was a creature of deep space. A self-aware, bio-mechanical being that had been imbued with sentience by an ancient and mysterious race, Rokan was large even by the standards of her massive species. Her colossal size had made her ideal for transporting cargo to the farthest reaches of explored space, allowing both Rokan and her pilot Vardis to see the galaxy whilst generating a reasonable profit for her crew as an independent transport ship. It was an equitable arrangement that had always proved fruitful for all concerned.
Leviathans rarely lived more than three hundred cycles, and at over two hundred and eighty, Rokan herself was now firmly ensconced in her twilight cycles. This advanced age had brought with it an attitude that Captain Ezra Darke would describe as cantankerous for the majority of the time, and downright petulant on occasion.
Superficially Rokan's tough organic outer hull lacked the lustre that it once had, but at a more fundamental level it could no longer regenerate as effectively as it had when the leviathan was younger. Significant damage that would once have been repaired in a few solar days could now take half a cycle to completely heal. Both internally and externally, Rokan was beginning to lose what had once been total control over the numerous systems that facilitated her own well-being and that of her crew. Not that Ezra was worried that he and his crewmates could at any moment be killed if the elderly leviathan involuntarily vented her internal atmosphere into space, but Rokan's gradual but definite decline was nonetheless a cause for concern, albeit one that was relegated to the back of his mind for the moment.
"No one is accusing you or Rokan of anything, Vardis," Ezra said sharply to silence any further bickering. Although he understood that the depth of the bond between pilot and leviathan meant that Vardis was extremely defensive of Rokan, he also knew that everyone's patience was beginning to wane after three tense arns orbiting the gaseous world below.
"Aren't we?" Danaris countered, pushing away from the support where he'd been leaning and striding purposefully across to the cluster of control consoles. "Am I the only person here who recognises the fact that this old leviathan is a decaying wreck that should have been consigned to a trash planet to be broken up cycles ago?"
"Leviathans don't get broken up," Ezra told him calmly, meeting the fearsome Luxan's gaze. "And Rokan has plenty of life left in her yet. But if you wish to leave this 'wreck' then we have a number of transport pods in our hangers. By all means feel free to take one."
Apparently unwilling to be drawn into a confrontation that he would inevitably lose, Danaris muttered something under his breath that was beyond the grasp of the current generation of translator-microbes and strode from the Command with a dismissive wave of his hand.
"Both Rokan and I appreciate your support, captain," Vardis said evenly once the Luxan had departed. "On a personal level I find Danaris to be an exceptionally unpleasant individual."
"In our line of work we can't afford to be without gentlemen like Mister Danaris," Ezra said. "Unfortunately men with his skills and experience don't tend to be masters of social etiquette." He paused. "That said, I'm not willing to just hang around here on the edge of the Uncharted Territories. Sooner or later we're going to attract the attention of a Peacekeeper patrol ship or worse still a Hannak cruiser. We'll give Latoth another arn, after that we'll write off this whole venture and head back to Nekesh."
