What I Still Haven’t Found

© 2019 by Walter Reimer


Thumbnail art by  rabbi-tom



A spray of pink henal sailed through the holographic projection, the droplets splattering across the low table.

Varan dragged a sleeve of her robe across her mouth before setting her glass aside and using the same sleeve to mop up the mess she’d just made. “Brr’dakhin game designers,” she muttered as she cleaned up. “What intoxicants were they taking when they wrote this?” She shed her robe and resumed her seat now dressed only in her fur.

The projector had paused when she had gotten up and resumed as she sat down. Her simulacrum started dragging Meredith’s paladin out of the tavern as the vir opened the notes that her lover had appended to the saved game module. While she read, the kobold mage revived the equine paladin, who didn’t appear very pleased at the impromptu and very involuntary nap. After she was fully awake, the pair started to follow the map toward the swamp outside of town.

Varan raised an eyebrow when they reached their destination.

The swamp deserved the name the character had given it; the swamp was a broad marshy fen, overgrown with reeds and high grass. The place smelled awful and the odor of decay seemed to be part of the low overcast that sat on the place. Slowly, the mage and the paladin reconnoitered and discovered that there was a stone circle, on an island in the center of the swamp.

Picking their way through the marsh was tedious, but nothing dangerous attacked them. Knowing the game as well as she did now, Varan was instantly on her guard.

The stones were severely weathered, some leaning drunkenly as they had subsided in the saturated ground, and at the exact center of the ring was a hole in the ground. Another ‘dungeon crawl?’ Varan wondered, using the term Meredith had taught her. I had hoped that the Cathedral of Lust would be the last one. She made certain that the game’s version of the paladin was ready, and they entered the tumulus.

Stone steps, overgrown with moss, spiraled downward to a large chamber beneath the island. A moldering chest sat at one end of the room, and Varan hadn’t taken two steps toward it when a gelatinous sound could be heard and things began to ooze up from around the stone flags of the chamber’s floor. As they gained size and mass, the game labeled them.

“’Swamp Golems?’” Varan said aloud. “What in the Darkness is a ‘golem?’” She immediately saved the game and started to look up the term. A glance at the horolog and she shut down the search and the game, drank the last of the beer in her glass, and went to get a shower.

Since Kiran had transferred off of the Kith, Varan was detailed as Weapons Officer on her shift, as well as Duty Officer. She and the rest of the command crew were briefed before relieving the offgoing shlani, and she settled into her seat as the cruiser maintained its patrol pattern.

More than halfway through the shift the Sensor Officer’s ears perked. “Yōzhim-kestin, ultovodin pōzak – ulant, aan’ Terranin berāth.” He brought up the tactical display, and the unidentified ship appeared at extreme range – on the Imperial side of the border. “The contact profile matches a heavy cruiser, but the power curve is anomalous.”

“Alert Two,” Varan ordered, and light blue emergency lights began to flash. “Summon the Command-Second to Command.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” the Communications Officer said.

“Is the Terran ship’s beacon on?”

“No, Ma’am.” That was strange; of course, the fact that it was in Kashlanin space uninvited was even stranger.

“Its shields are down, and no power spikes for weapons,” Sensors added.

Varan’s tailspur tapped at the deck. “Pilot, I am taking control.”

“Noted,” the Māgrhek said as the Command-Second entered the compartment. Varan briefed her, and the vir gestured her understanding as she sat in the Captain’s chair.

“Interception course,” Subcaptain v’Tal said, and as Varan complied she said, “Communications, try to make contact.”

“Ma’am, the contact is coming to a halt,” Varan said. “Interception in twenty fractions.” She half-turned toward the subcaptain. “Tabin, the ship’s been damaged. Sensors indicate a debris field forming around the ship, and it’s not developing enough power for weapons or defenses.”

V’Tal frowned. “Long-range sensor sweeps. Is there anything else out there?”

“No, Ma’am,” Varan replied after a fraction.

“Incoming message, Ma’am,” the Communications Officer said. “Very low power transmission, running through translation matrix now.” His tail gestured at the main screen.

The screen showed a Terran, a wolf it seemed, wearing a ripped and blood-stained uniform. She had a bandage covering the left side of her head and appeared to be missing her left ear. “Confed Navy cruiser Madinat al-Nujum . . . “ She caught her breath and slumped to one side. “Requesting . . . help.”

The Kith had gotten close enough for an enhanced image, and Varan’s ears went down. The cruiser had been holed in two places, and debris was drifting around its battered hull.

“This is the AZB Kith,” v’Tal said. “We are coming to render assistance.”

The wolf shook her head. “Can’t understand . . . “

“Varan?” the tabin asked.

“Terran ship, this is the Imperial ship Kith,” the vir said slowly and clearly in Terran. “We’re coming to help. Do you understand?” The wolf nodded, and Varan caught the Command-second gesture with her tail. “Who attacked you?”

The wolf winced in pain and sagged back in her chair. “Attacked . . . requesting . . . asylum.”