Cassandra's Tears: Issue #9 - [Comm-Links](https://api.star-citizen.wiki/comm-links) - Cassandra's Tears: Issue #9 Cassandra's Tears: Issue #9 =========================== Undefined Undefined Cassandra's Tears [Previous](https://api.star-citizen.wiki/comm-links/12834) [Next](https://api.star-citizen.wiki/comm-links/12836) Content ------- English The light frame of the P52 screamed from the pull of interspace. Everything blurred. Sound flipped between a screaming turbine and tone silence. The starboard wing crumpled and tore off. The stern of the Caterpillar phased in and out of view. Cal fought with the ship to stay locked on its wake. It was that or the end. * * * * * The UEE Customs Station at the jump-point from Ferron to the Banu Protectorate was especially congested today. The Customs Agent stared at the manifestation of monotony; a row of ships, haulers, and transports as far as the eye could see. He took a moment to make peace with the long boring day ahead then buzzed the first ship forward to the scanners. He ran the ship’s tags through the database while the scanbots did their thing. A Caterpillar transport emerged from the jump-point and lumbered toward the checkpoint. The Customs Agent casually glanced at it. He froze at what he saw. A P52 had come through as well. One of the wings was ripped off. The nose had been folded. Oxygen and fluids leaked through cracks in the body. One engine gently pulsed with life. The other was dark. The Customs Agent snapped out of it and slammed the alarms. In a manner of minutes, Police and Med teams descended on the P52. The Agent listened to the feverish chatter over the comms. Someone said the pilot was UEE Military and miraculously still alive. * * * * * Cal Mason woke up on a table. Medics hovered over him, about to work, surprised at his consciousness. “How long have I been out?” He said, not wasting a minute. The lead Medic stammered. The others exchanged baffled glances. Cal sat up. His body surged in pain. He dragged himself off the table. “Sir… sir!” One of the nurses tried to usher Cal back to the table. Cal didn’t slow down as he shuffled toward the door. A clock on one of the screens said that a little over an hour had passed. The medics and nurses hustled after their wayward patient. Cal shoved his way through more medics, guards, a couple Custom Agents who gathered to watch, and finally got to the landing bay and the wreckage of the P52. A couple mechanics stood around it, marveling at its state. “Hey, you got an omni-tool handy?” Cal said to one of the mechanics. He stared at Cal, dumbfounded, and held it out. Cal climbed onto the P52 and started unscrewing a panel. “Lt. Mason?” A voice boomed from the entrance of the hangar. Cal didn’t stop. The Phoenix was undoubtedly on the move, continuing on with their plan. Cal could still catch them but if they jumped another system, they’d be gone. P52’s, like most short-range fighters, come equipped with homing beacons keyed to their host ship. Makes them much easier to recover. Most pirates and smugglers disable the beacon as soon as they can. Not many people knew that with a little modification, the beacon could be reversed. So instead of the Constellation being able to locate the P52, the P52 can locate the Constellation. Cal, however, did know this. “Lieutenant!” That voice again, closer. Cal glanced up. A Customs Supervisor stood over him, an amused grin on his face. “You alright?” “Yeah, fine.” “Maybe you should have a Doc have a look at you. Be sure.” “I’d love to. A little short on time at the moment.” Cal extracted the last bolt and pulled the beacon out. Disabled as expected but intact. “I don’t suppose you have a ship I could use?” The Customs Supervisor turned as a couple Cops hustled into the hangar. “Ask them.” Thirty minutes of debate later, Cal launched from the Customs Station in a Cutlass recently seized for smuggling contraband. A dozen confused cops and medical staff watched him disappear into the jump-point. This trip into Banu territory would be a lot smoother than the last. On the other side, Cal plugged the P52’s beacon into his NavSystem. While he waited for the computer to import the data, he calibrated the PilotAssist to his liking. Everybody likes piloting on auto. It was a fact that mystified and bugged him. His radar pinged. The Phoenix was still in the system. They set down on Queeg, third planet in the system and capital. It was a dry, arid planet, prone to massive dust storms. The radar refined their location the closer Cal got to the planet. The beacon placed the Phoenix in a smaller settlement on the dark side of the planet. It was only a couple dozen stacked buildings, each constructed as sharp angles to help minimize the impact of the heavy winds. Cal landed on one of the outer landing parks. He found an air-gen respirator and some atmospheric gear left behind by the previous owners of the Cutlass. The wind was already kicking furiously as Cal set out. He found the Phoenix relatively easily. There weren’t many Constellations taking up space here and they hadn’t even bothered trying to hide it. Cal saw a faint light through cockpit, emanating from deeper in the ship. Someone was in there. Cal found a spot and waited. Trunk climbed down and sealed the Constellation. He glanced around before heading into the narrow streets, choked full of Banu, Human, and Tevarin even as a dust storm brewed. Cal kept a good distance. Too good a distance. A couple times he almost lost Trunk in the mob so he got closer. Finally, Trunk hopped down some stairs into the basement of a building. The aboveground section of the building was segmented into massive structures shaped like fins and sat on rotating platforms to keep it always turned into the wind. All of the windows on the first two floors were blacked out. It was tough to tell through the blasted sand but the place looked abandoned. Cal waited a few moments before approaching the stairwell that Trunk disappeared into. When he finally peered down, the stairs led to a single door. Cal crept down the steps and pushed the door. Locked. Cal looked around for another way in. About fifteen meters into the gap between the rotator plates and the upper building, he saw light escape some kind of ventilation or grill. He squeezed into the gap and crawled toward the grate. The wind shifted direction. The mechanism’s sensors screeched to life and turned the building over him. Cal slipped inside the cramped ventilation shaft. After pulling himself through the buildup of dust and dirt, he found another grate and dropped into an empty room. Cal quietly moved through the dark, abandoned halls. Something metal clattered in the distance. Voices echoed soon after. Cal made his way toward it. Peering around a corner, the hall opened up to an old auditorium. Now it was some kind of lab. Arrays of computers and clear enclosures surrounded a massive piece of equipment hidden under a tarp. Cables plunged through a hole in the ground to tap into the settlement’s underground power network. Trunk sat on a crate closest to Cal. Sasha studied some of the faded Banu banners rotting away on the wall. Mahony was elbow-deep in the guts of one of the machines taken from Yar. Cal guessed he was wrong about Mahony being the Phoenix’s mechanic. Apparently, he was some kind of engineer… and kind of a lunatic. He mumbled to himself as he gently extracted a smooth metal canister. Whatever was inside was either very valuable or extremely dangerous. “They just don’t get it. The threshold of a discovery that could change the face of humanity and what do they do? What do they do?! They kill it!” Mahony rambled as he carefully moved the canister to one of the enclosures. It was tough for Cal to tell but it looked like there were clumps of grassy dirt inside. “Do they care that men and woman have dedicated their lives to it? No. Just a pat on the back, a ‘don’t ever talk about it’ threat, and a boot out the door.” Mahony attached some wires into the canister, still muttering to himself. Sasha slowly walked over to watch. “It’s not right. These are lives. Those bureaucrats need to remember that.” Mahony sealed the enclosure. Sasha nodded blankly; she wasn’t going to get involved. Mahony went to one of the consoles and wiped dust off the screen. He looked at the enclosure as he hit a button. The canister popped open for a nanosecond. Sasha watched intently. Nothing seemed to happen for a few seconds. “I thought you-“ She started to say but Mahony cut her off. He was glancing between the enclosure and the console, bristling with giddy energy. Sasha turned back to the enclosure. Even at this distance Cal could see it too. The grass and dirt were breaking down. In seconds, they were turned into a grey sludge. Then the real magic began, they started being reconstructed. By the end of the process, that tiny burst of whatever was in the canister reconstituted the grassy clumps exactly the same… except the grass was now violet. “I told you it would work. Grandpa was right!” Mahony bounced around while Sasha leaned down to get a better look. Mahony hustled over to the equipment in the middle of the room and yanked the tarp off. Cal’s heart sank. From its shape, tail fins, and guidance sensors there could be no doubt. It was a bomb. . . . TO BE CONTINUED Der Lichtrahmen der P52 schrie aus dem Sog des Zwischenraums. Alles war verschwommen. Der Klang spiegelte sich zwischen einer schreienden Turbine und der Stille des Tons. Der Steuerbordflügel zerknitterte und riss ab. Das Heck der Caterpillar wurde ein- und ausgeblendet. Cal kämpfte mit dem Schiff, um auf seiner Spur gefangen zu bleiben. Es war das oder das Ende. * * * * * Die UEE-Zollstation am Sprungpunkt von Ferron zum Banu-Protektorat war heute besonders überlastet. Der Zollagent starrte auf die Manifestation der Monotonie; eine Reihe von Schiffen, Schleppern und Transporten, soweit das Auge reicht. Er nahm sich einen Moment Zeit, um Frieden mit dem langen langweiligen Tag zu schließen, dann summte das erste Schiff vorwärts zu den Scannern. Er ließ die Schiffsetiketten durch die Datenbank laufen, während die Scanbots ihr Ding machten. Ein Caterpillar-Transporter tauchte aus dem Sprungpunkt auf und taumelte zum Kontrollpunkt. Der Zollagent blickte beiläufig darauf. Er erstarrte bei dem, was er sah. Eine P52 war ebenfalls durchgekommen. Einer der Flügel wurde abgerissen. Die Nase war gefaltet. Sauerstoff und Flüssigkeiten liefen durch Risse im Körper. Ein Motor pulsierte sanft vor Leben. Der andere war dunkel. Der Zollagent brach aus und schlug die Alarme ein. In wenigen Minuten stiegen die Teams von Polizei und Medizin auf der P52 ab. Der Agent hörte das fieberhafte Geschwätz über die Kommunikation. Jemand sagte, dass der Pilot UEE Militär war und auf wundersame Weise noch am Leben war. * * * * * Cal Mason wachte auf einem Tisch auf. Mediziner schwebten über ihm, kurz vor der Arbeit, überrascht von seinem Bewusstsein. "Wie lange bin ich schon unterwegs?" sagte er und vergeudete keine Minute. Der leitende Medic stammelte. Die anderen tauschten verwirrte Blicke aus. Cal setzte sich auf. Sein Körper wogte vor Schmerz. Er schleppte sich vom Tisch. "Sir... Sir... Sir!" Eine der Krankenschwestern versuchte, Cal wieder an den Tisch zu führen. Cal wurde nicht langsamer, als er zur Tür schlurfte. Eine Uhr auf einem der Bildschirme sagte, dass etwas mehr als eine Stunde vergangen sei. Die Mediziner und Krankenschwestern stürzten sich auf ihren eigensinnigen Patienten. Cal schob sich seinen Weg durch mehr Ärzte, Wachen, ein paar Zollbeamte, die sich versammelten, um zu beobachten, und kam schließlich zur Landebucht und zum Wrack der P52. Ein paar Mechaniker standen um sie herum und staunten über ihren Zustand. "Hey, hast du ein Omni-Tool zur Hand?" sagte Cal zu einem der Mechaniker. Er starrte Cal an, verblüfft, und hielt es aus. Cal kletterte auf die P52 und begann, ein Panel abzuschrauben. " Leutnant Mason?" Eine Stimme dröhnte aus dem Eingang des Bügels. Cal hörte nicht auf. Der Phönix war zweifellos in Bewegung und setzte seinen Plan fort. Cal konnte sie immer noch fangen, aber wenn sie auf ein anderes System sprangen, wären sie weg. P52's, wie die meisten Kurzstreckenjäger, sind mit Peilsendern ausgestattet, die auf ihr Trägerschiff ausgerichtet sind. Das macht es viel einfacher, sie wiederherzustellen. Die meisten Piraten und Schmuggler deaktivieren das Leuchtfeuer so schnell wie möglich. Nicht viele Leute wussten, dass mit einer kleinen Modifikation das Leuchtfeuer umgekehrt werden konnte. Anstatt dass die Konstellation die P52 lokalisieren kann, kann die P52 die Konstellation lokalisieren. Cal wusste das jedoch. " Lieutenant!" Diese Stimme wieder, näher. Cal blickte nach oben. Ein Zollinspektor stand über ihm, ein amüsiertes Grinsen im Gesicht. "Alles in Ordnung?" "Ja, gut." "Vielleicht solltest du einen Doc haben, der sich dich ansieht. Seien Sie sicher." "Ich würde gerne. Im Moment etwas zu wenig Zeit." Cal zog den letzten Bolzen heraus und zog die Signalleuchte heraus. Wie erwartet deaktiviert, aber intakt. "Ich nehme nicht an, dass du ein Schiff hast, das ich benutzen könnte?" Der Zollaufseher drehte sich um, als ein paar Polizisten in den Bügel stürzten. "Frag sie." Dreißig Minuten später wurde Cal von der Zollstation in einem Entermesser gestartet, das kürzlich wegen Schmuggels von Schmuggelware beschlagnahmt wurde. Ein Dutzend verwirrter Polizisten und Mediziner beobachteten, wie er im Sprungpunkt verschwand. Diese Reise in das Gebiet von Banu wäre viel ruhiger als die letzte. Auf der anderen Seite steckte Cal das Bake der P52 in sein NavSystem. Während er darauf wartete, dass der Computer die Daten importiert, kalibrierte er den PilotAssist nach seinem Geschmack. Jeder mag es, mit dem Auto zu steuern. Es war eine Tatsache, die ihn verwirrt und gestört hat. Sein Radar hat gepingt. Der Phönix war noch im System. Sie setzten sich auf Queeg, dem dritten Planeten im System und der Hauptstadt. Es war ein trockener, trockener Planet, der anfällig für schwere Staubstürme war. Das Radar verfeinerte ihre Position, je näher Cal dem Planeten kam. Das Leuchtfeuer stellte den Phönix in eine kleinere Siedlung auf der dunklen Seite des Planeten. Es waren nur ein paar Dutzend gestapelte Gebäude, die jeweils als scharfe Winkel konstruiert waren, um die Auswirkungen der starken Winde zu minimieren. Cal landete auf einem der äußeren Landeplätze. Er fand ein Atemschutzgerät und eine atmosphärische Ausrüstung, die von den früheren Besitzern des Cutlass zurückgelassen wurde. Der Wind wehte bereits heftig, als Cal aufbrach. Er fand den Phoenix relativ leicht. Es gab nicht viele Konstellationen, die hier Platz einnahmen, und sie hatten sich nicht einmal die Mühe gemacht, es zu verstecken. Cal sah ein schwaches Licht durch das Cockpit, das aus einer Tiefe im Schiff ausging. Jemand war da drin. Cal fand einen Platz und wartete. Der Kofferraum kletterte hinunter und versiegelte die Konstellation. Er blickte herum, bevor er in die engen Gassen ging, erstickte voller Banu, Mensch und Tevarin, selbst als ein Staubsturm braute. Cal hielt einen guten Abstand. Eine zu gute Entfernung. Ein paar Mal hätte er fast Trunk in der Meute verloren, also kam er näher. Schließlich sprang Trunk eine Treppe hinunter in den Keller eines Gebäudes. Der oberirdische Teil des Gebäudes wurde in massive, lamellenförmige Strukturen unterteilt und setzte sich auf rotierende Plattformen, um es immer gegen den Wind auszurichten. Alle Fenster in den ersten beiden Stockwerken wurden verdunkelt. Es war schwer durch den gesprengten Sand zu sagen, aber der Ort sah verlassen aus. Cal wartete einige Augenblicke, bevor er sich dem Treppenhaus näherte, in dem Trunk verschwand. Als er schließlich nach unten blickte, führte die Treppe zu einer einzigen Tür. Cal kroch die Stufen hinunter und schob die Tür. Abgeschlossen. Cal sah sich nach einem anderen Weg hinein um. Etwa fünfzehn Meter in den Spalt zwischen den Rotatorplatten und dem oberen Gebäude sah er Licht aus einer Art Lüftung oder einem Grill entweichen. Er drückte sich in den Spalt und kroch zum Gitter. Der Wind verlagerte die Richtung. Die Sensoren des Mechanismus kreischten zum Leben und drehten das Gebäude über ihn. Cal rutschte in den verkrampften Lüftungsschacht. Nachdem er sich durch die Ansammlung von Staub und Schmutz gezogen hatte, fand er ein weiteres Gitter und fiel in einen leeren Raum. Cal bewegte sich leise durch die dunklen, verlassenen Hallen. Etwas Metall klapperte in der Ferne. Die Stimmen hallten kurz darauf. Cal machte sich auf den Weg dorthin. Um eine Ecke blickend, öffnete sich der Saal zu einem alten Auditorium. Jetzt war es eine Art Labor. Arrays von Computern und klaren Gehäusen umgaben ein massives Gerät, das unter einer Plane versteckt war. Die Kabel wurden durch ein Loch im Boden getaucht, um in das unterirdische Stromnetz der Siedlung einzudringen. Der Kofferraum saß auf einer Kiste, die Cal am nächsten war. Sasha studierte einige der verblassten Banu-Banner, die an der Wand verrotten. Mahony war ellenbogentief in den Eingeweiden einer der Maschinen aus Yar. Cal vermutete, dass er sich geirrt hatte, als Mahony der Mechaniker des Phönix war. Anscheinend war er eine Art Ingenieur... und ein Geisteskranker. Er murmelte vor sich hin, als er sanft einen glatten Metallkanister herauszog. Was auch immer im Inneren war, es war entweder sehr wertvoll oder extrem gefährlich. "Sie verstehen es einfach nicht. Die Schwelle zu einer Entdeckung, die das Gesicht der Menschheit verändern könnte, und was tun sie? Was tun sie?! Sie töten es!" Mahony wanderte, als er den Kanister vorsichtig in eines der Gehege bewegte. Es war schwer für Cal zu sagen, aber es sah so aus, als wären da Grasschmutzklumpen drin. "Ist es ihnen wichtig, dass Männer und Frauen ihr Leben dem gewidmet haben? Nein. Nur ein Klopfen auf die Rückseite, eine "Niemals darüber reden"-Bedrohung und ein Stiefel zur Tür hinaus." Mahony schloss einige Drähte in den Behälter ein und murmelte immer noch vor sich hin. Sasha ging langsam hinüber, um zuzusehen. "Es ist nicht richtig. Das sind Leben. Diese Bürokraten müssen sich das merken." Mahony versiegelte das Gehäuse. Sasha nickte blank; sie wollte sich nicht einmischen. Mahony ging zu einer der Konsolen und wischte den Staub vom Bildschirm. Er sah sich das Gehäuse an, als er einen Knopf drückte. Der Behälter sprang für eine Nanosekunde auf. Sasha beobachtete aufmerksam. Ein paar Sekunden lang schien nichts zu passieren. "Ich dachte, du..." Sie fing an zu sagen, aber Mahony unterbrach sie. Er blickte zwischen dem Gehäuse und der Konsole hin und her und strotzte vor schwindelerregender Energie. Sasha drehte sich zurück zum Gehäuse. Selbst in dieser Entfernung konnte Cal es noch sehen. Das Gras und der Schmutz brachen zusammen. In Sekundenschnelle wurden sie in einen Grauschlamm verwandelt. Dann begann die eigentliche Magie, sie wurden rekonstruiert. Am Ende des Prozesses, als dieser winzige Ausbruch von allem, was sich im Behälter befand, die grasbewachsenen Klumpen wiederherstellte, waren es genau die gleichen.... außer, dass das Gras jetzt violett war. "Ich habe dir gesagt, dass es funktionieren wird. Opa hatte Recht!" Mahony hüpfte herum, während Sasha sich nach unten lehnte, um einen besseren Blick zu erhalten. Mahony eilte zu den Geräten in der Mitte des Raumes und zog die Plane ab. Cal's Herz sank. An seiner Form, seinen Leitblechen und Führungssensoren konnte es keinen Zweifel geben. Es war eine Bombe. . . . WIRD FORTGESETZT The light frame of the P52 screamed from the pull of interspace. Everything blurred. Sound flipped between a screaming turbine and tone silence. The starboard wing crumpled and tore off. The stern of the Caterpillar phased in and out of view. Cal fought with the ship to stay locked on its wake. It was that or the end. * * * * * The UEE Customs Station at the jump-point from Ferron to the Banu Protectorate was especially congested today. The Customs Agent stared at the manifestation of monotony; a row of ships, haulers, and transports as far as the eye could see. He took a moment to make peace with the long boring day ahead then buzzed the first ship forward to the scanners. He ran the ship’s tags through the database while the scanbots did their thing. A Caterpillar transport emerged from the jump-point and lumbered toward the checkpoint. The Customs Agent casually glanced at it. He froze at what he saw. A P52 had come through as well. One of the wings was ripped off. The nose had been folded. Oxygen and fluids leaked through cracks in the body. One engine gently pulsed with life. The other was dark. The Customs Agent snapped out of it and slammed the alarms. In a manner of minutes, Police and Med teams descended on the P52. The Agent listened to the feverish chatter over the comms. Someone said the pilot was UEE Military and miraculously still alive. * * * * * Cal Mason woke up on a table. Medics hovered over him, about to work, surprised at his consciousness. “How long have I been out?” He said, not wasting a minute. The lead Medic stammered. The others exchanged baffled glances. Cal sat up. His body surged in pain. He dragged himself off the table. “Sir… sir!” One of the nurses tried to usher Cal back to the table. Cal didn’t slow down as he shuffled toward the door. A clock on one of the screens said that a little over an hour had passed. The medics and nurses hustled after their wayward patient. Cal shoved his way through more medics, guards, a couple Custom Agents who gathered to watch, and finally got to the landing bay and the wreckage of the P52. A couple mechanics stood around it, marveling at its state. “Hey, you got an omni-tool handy?” Cal said to one of the mechanics. He stared at Cal, dumbfounded, and held it out. Cal climbed onto the P52 and started unscrewing a panel. “Lt. Mason?” A voice boomed from the entrance of the hangar. Cal didn’t stop. The Phoenix was undoubtedly on the move, continuing on with their plan. Cal could still catch them but if they jumped another system, they’d be gone. P52’s, like most short-range fighters, come equipped with homing beacons keyed to their host ship. Makes them much easier to recover. Most pirates and smugglers disable the beacon as soon as they can. Not many people knew that with a little modification, the beacon could be reversed. So instead of the Constellation being able to locate the P52, the P52 can locate the Constellation. Cal, however, did know this. “Lieutenant!” That voice again, closer. Cal glanced up. A Customs Supervisor stood over him, an amused grin on his face. “You alright?” “Yeah, fine.” “Maybe you should have a Doc have a look at you. Be sure.” “I’d love to. A little short on time at the moment.” Cal extracted the last bolt and pulled the beacon out. Disabled as expected but intact. “I don’t suppose you have a ship I could use?” The Customs Supervisor turned as a couple Cops hustled into the hangar. “Ask them.” Thirty minutes of debate later, Cal launched from the Customs Station in a Cutlass recently seized for smuggling contraband. A dozen confused cops and medical staff watched him disappear into the jump-point. This trip into Banu territory would be a lot smoother than the last. On the other side, Cal plugged the P52’s beacon into his NavSystem. While he waited for the computer to import the data, he calibrated the PilotAssist to his liking. Everybody likes piloting on auto. It was a fact that mystified and bugged him. His radar pinged. The Phoenix was still in the system. They set down on Queeg, third planet in the system and capital. It was a dry, arid planet, prone to massive dust storms. The radar refined their location the closer Cal got to the planet. The beacon placed the Phoenix in a smaller settlement on the dark side of the planet. It was only a couple dozen stacked buildings, each constructed as sharp angles to help minimize the impact of the heavy winds. Cal landed on one of the outer landing parks. He found an air-gen respirator and some atmospheric gear left behind by the previous owners of the Cutlass. The wind was already kicking furiously as Cal set out. He found the Phoenix relatively easily. There weren’t many Constellations taking up space here and they hadn’t even bothered trying to hide it. Cal saw a faint light through cockpit, emanating from deeper in the ship. Someone was in there. Cal found a spot and waited. Trunk climbed down and sealed the Constellation. He glanced around before heading into the narrow streets, choked full of Banu, Human, and Tevarin even as a dust storm brewed. Cal kept a good distance. Too good a distance. A couple times he almost lost Trunk in the mob so he got closer. Finally, Trunk hopped down some stairs into the basement of a building. The aboveground section of the building was segmented into massive structures shaped like fins and sat on rotating platforms to keep it always turned into the wind. All of the windows on the first two floors were blacked out. It was tough to tell through the blasted sand but the place looked abandoned. Cal waited a few moments before approaching the stairwell that Trunk disappeared into. When he finally peered down, the stairs led to a single door. Cal crept down the steps and pushed the door. Locked. Cal looked around for another way in. About fifteen meters into the gap between the rotator plates and the upper building, he saw light escape some kind of ventilation or grill. He squeezed into the gap and crawled toward the grate. The wind shifted direction. The mechanism’s sensors screeched to life and turned the building over him. Cal slipped inside the cramped ventilation shaft. After pulling himself through the buildup of dust and dirt, he found another grate and dropped into an empty room. Cal quietly moved through the dark, abandoned halls. Something metal clattered in the distance. Voices echoed soon after. Cal made his way toward it. Peering around a corner, the hall opened up to an old auditorium. Now it was some kind of lab. Arrays of computers and clear enclosures surrounded a massive piece of equipment hidden under a tarp. Cables plunged through a hole in the ground to tap into the settlement’s underground power network. Trunk sat on a crate closest to Cal. Sasha studied some of the faded Banu banners rotting away on the wall. Mahony was elbow-deep in the guts of one of the machines taken from Yar. Cal guessed he was wrong about Mahony being the Phoenix’s mechanic. Apparently, he was some kind of engineer… and kind of a lunatic. He mumbled to himself as he gently extracted a smooth metal canister. Whatever was inside was either very valuable or extremely dangerous. “They just don’t get it. The threshold of a discovery that could change the face of humanity and what do they do? What do they do?! They kill it!” Mahony rambled as he carefully moved the canister to one of the enclosures. It was tough for Cal to tell but it looked like there were clumps of grassy dirt inside. “Do they care that men and woman have dedicated their lives to it? No. Just a pat on the back, a ‘don’t ever talk about it’ threat, and a boot out the door.” Mahony attached some wires into the canister, still muttering to himself. Sasha slowly walked over to watch. “It’s not right. These are lives. Those bureaucrats need to remember that.” Mahony sealed the enclosure. Sasha nodded blankly; she wasn’t going to get involved. Mahony went to one of the consoles and wiped dust off the screen. He looked at the enclosure as he hit a button. The canister popped open for a nanosecond. Sasha watched intently. Nothing seemed to happen for a few seconds. “I thought you-“ She started to say but Mahony cut her off. He was glancing between the enclosure and the console, bristling with giddy energy. Sasha turned back to the enclosure. Even at this distance Cal could see it too. The grass and dirt were breaking down. In seconds, they were turned into a grey sludge. Then the real magic began, they started being reconstructed. By the end of the process, that tiny burst of whatever was in the canister reconstituted the grassy clumps exactly the same… except the grass was now violet. “I told you it would work. Grandpa was right!” Mahony bounced around while Sasha leaned down to get a better look. Mahony hustled over to the equipment in the middle of the room and yanked the tarp off. Cal’s heart sank. From its shape, tail fins, and guidance sensors there could be no doubt. It was a bomb. . . . TO BE CONTINUED Links ----- No links available. Images ------ 1 image/jpeg [ ![](https://robertsspaceindustries.com/media/dzgf0umox510mr/source/CalMasonFI_Crop.jpg) ](https://robertsspaceindustries.com/media/dzgf0umox510mr/source/CalMasonFI_Crop.jpg) CalMasonFI_Crop.jpg [Details](https://api.star-citizen.wiki/comm-links/images/109) Last Modified 12 years ago Size 1.91 MB [Source](https://robertsspaceindustries.com/media/dzgf0umox510mr/source/CalMasonFI_Crop.jpg) [Info](https://api.star-citizen.wiki/comm-links/images/109) Metadata -------- CIG ID 12835 Channel Undefined Category Undefined Series Cassandra's Tears Comments 56 Published 13 years ago (2012-12-14T00:00:00+00:00) [RSI Article](https://robertsspaceindustries.com/comm-link/serialized-fiction/12835-Cassandras-Tears-Issue-9) [API](https://api.star-citizen.wiki/api/comm-links/12835)