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An Ancient Warning 1999 short story by
Jonathan Hicks Six years after Episode IV - A
New Hope There was another shower of sparks as Ranjid’s
fusion torch cut into the starships support beam. Molten metal dropped
liberally from the huge strut, falling in long globules into a vat of
steaming water below. The torch created arcs of energy that connected with
the ceiling of the workshop and the rest of the vessel’s hull. The ship, a class three Haruuga trading vessel, sat like a plundered corpse in the middle
of the huge service hangar. It’s support beams rose from what was left of
it’s hull like an empty ribcage, the engine section lay in thousands of
pieces behind it and the cockpit had been separated, making the whole thing
appear as a gutted fish. Ranjid was removing what was left of the upper
support; the heavy metal it was constructed of would melt down and make
excellent hull plating. Ranjid ran a hand over his sweating face, his pale
skin glistening with moisture and metallic fragments. Over the years he had
built up a resistance to the energy emissions from the tools he used, making
the use of a mask only necessary when using heavier equipment. He gritted his
teeth as the torch sliced through the last part of the beam. Before he could holler ‘watch out below’, the
section of beam had detached from the rest of the backbone of the vessel and
fallen to the floor. It struck with a resounding crash that overwhelmed the
noise in the rest of the hangar. He looked around the huge area, regarding
his myriad of companions with an expression of satisfaction. The service hangar, a huge square affair roughly
three hundred meters long and wide, appeared to have been covered with every
piece of machinery, piping, scrap and wire that had ever come out of the
explored galaxy. The chaos was complete, spilling out into the empty streets
of Luronsa IV’s second city. The vacation planet, renowned for it’s
nightspots, entertainment and leisure facilities, was bustling even at this
late hour. The service hangar that Ranjid and his team had hired backed
directly onto the city’s main power generator at the edge of the city,
enabling him to tap directly into the power conduits and keep the place
going. The authorities of the city turned a blind eye; Ranjid was very good
at making arrangements for the odd private staryacht to receive the odd
modification. Late-night revellers were making their way back to
accommodation blocks, passing the clutter in the street with drunken or tired
eyes. Ranjid had turned the street into an improper market. He found many
people rooting through the piles of scrap, enabling him to secure business on
the street as well as satisfying his more high-paying customers. Blazing sun during the day. Fun during the nights
off. Plenty of work. He was glad he was here. Luronsa IV was a good place to
be.
“Ranjid!” He looked over his shoulder, his legs dangling
over either side of the support beam. “Down
here, Ranjid!” Twisting his body right round, making his position
more precarious, he saw a smaller figure down below in a huge thick padded
apron. He wore goggles on his forehead and his belt was stuffed with tools.
He waved at Ranjid to ensure he was paying attention. Ranjid returned the
motion. “What is
it, Brackli?” Ranjid shouted back over the noise of the hangar. Multiple
beings were working on multiple tasks on multiple starships. Lights strobed,
sparks flew, machines roared.
“Visitor!” Brackli shouted back, taking his heavy gloves of his hands.
“Arr Sharn!” At the mention of the name, Ranjid allowed a huge
smile to spread across his face. With a twist of his body he toppled sideways
and fell off the high support beam. Brackli watched as he fell, unconcerned. At the last moment Ranjid started to hover as the
emergency break-fall belt activated. The unit, only good for low height
tumbles, immediately exhausted its limited charge to lower Ranjid to the
floor unhurt. He unbuckled the belt and threw it to a passing service ‘droid
for re-charging. “Arr
Sharn, eh?” Ranjid shook his head and started to untie his own heavy apron.
“Haven’t seen him in a while.” Brackli nodded, and turned to begin walking to the
entrance of the hangar. “He’s
pulled up in a heavy overland transporter. Said he wants to show you
something.” “Did he
say what?” Ranjid was curious. He knew that Arr Sharn had a flair for the
dramatic, and would no doubt keep him in suspension until the last minute,
but he also knew that Arr’s surprises were worth waiting for. The last one
had been what was left of an old Kabrilli water skiff. What a piece of
history that was. Not to mention
the fact that it had made him just over thirty thousand standard credits. He sighed heavily and followed Brackli to the
entrance. It was wide pair of heavily shielded blast doors, permanently open
due to a mechanical fault Ranjid hadn’t yet got round to repairing. Outside
the doors was a large overland transporter, hovering just off the ground with
a large open-topped cab. The heavy tarpaulin covering an object on the back
was damp with the moist evening air, glistening under Luronsa’s two moons. As Ranjid approached, trying to ascertain what was
under the cover, a huge alien emerged from the other side of the transporter.
He was undoing the magnetic clamps holding the cover in place, and when he
saw Ranjid he left the task to a Sullustian that was helping. His frame was
large and muscular, and he stood a full two heads taller than Ranjid, who,
for a human, was considered tall. His head, blunt-snouted and heavy browed,
shifted with a sliding of scales as he regarded his friend. “Hello,
Arr.” Ranjid said, standing in front of the huge lizard with hands on hips.
“What have you bought for me this time?” The lizard’s voice was deep, rumbling, and
expressed strength and confidence. His sharp irregular teeth clicked as he
spoke. “This is
the reason we exist as technicians.” Arr said. “What is
it?” “The
very focus of our love of starships.” “I get
the point, Arr, what is it?” “The
single...” “Arr,
you tell what it is in the next sentence or I’ll tie a fluidic power conduit
around your neck and reverse the polarity.” Arr Sharn’s laugh was loud and booming, causing
several more sound sensitive mechanics who had gathered around the
transporter to hold their hands to their ears. The crowd grew larger as more
workers drifted out of the hangar and up to the transporter, wondering what
prize Arr had brought this time. Ranjid suddenly became aware of the press of
bodies and turned to them, arms in the air. “What is
this, a Holo-show? Get back to work! I want that Haruuga fully stripped by sunup!” Mumbling in several languages, the amassed
mechanics turned and wandered off, some casting glances back in the hope of
seeing the object before they were out of sight of it. “A Haruuga, huh?” Arr said. “Where did you
get that?” “Oh,
someone found it floating abandoned in the P’ro Sector. It’d been there
years. Anyway, don’t change the subject. What’s this?” Arr walked up to the tarpaulin slowly, adding more
tension to the already strained atmosphere. He gripped the edge of it and
turned to look at Ranjid, his eye’s twinkling and his grin so large it looked
as though he could swallow the entire transporter.
“Behold!” He roared, and yanked hard on the cover. The small starship uncovered made Ranjid uncross
his folded arms and place a hand to his mouth. “My
goodness.” He mumbled through his fingers. Although the vessel was streaked with dirt and
missing several panels, Ranjid was amazed at its condition. It was a fighter
by definition, with a long sleek nose topped with a bubble cockpit, twin
laser cannons mounted just over the pilot’s seat. The bodywork seemed to
sweep upwards and behind the cockpit, splitting into two arms that terminated
in two huge powerful engines. It hovered of it’s own accord, the sudden removal
of the tarpaulin causing it to wobble slowly but soon settle. “Behold,
the S-76 Sunwing.” Arr said, his grin threatening to explode his reptilian
face. He looked over at Ranjid for a reaction. Brackli had had to sit down on
an empty fuel container, obviously overawed by the ship in front of him. “Well?”
Arr asked. All he got from Ranjid was an incomprehensible mumble. “Well, what
do you think?” He asked again, almost demanding an answer. Ranjid just took few steps forward and regarded
the ship. “Is it
real?” He asked. “Of
course it’s real!” Arr exploded with mock anger. “I checked the framestamp
and had the metal scanned on a molecular level. It’s made of Cantarr alloy.
It’s as real as it looks.” The Sunwing had entered the realms of myth in the
Setnin Sector. It was the first ever mass-produced starfighter out of the
Cantarr Bi Romou shipyards; each one assembled by hand and aligned to the
individual pilots direct specifications. Every seat position, every
capability, every weapon configuration was adjusted and defined to suit one
individual, no matter what the species. It was said that it took three months
to complete one squadron of Sunwings and it was true; the builders were very
proud of their creation. It was soon overwhelmed by mass produced
starfighters, which were capable of faster moves and packed a heavier punch.
The N-32 Headhunter, the T-65 X-Wing and others soon stole the limelight. The
Sunwings were scrapped or destroyed by these more powerful fighters and the
remaining ones soon fell into the realms of the collector’s item. The only
one Ranjid had ever seen was at the Chancai Museum, but it was just a shell
on a stand. This one appeared to be complete. One of the missing panels
revealed full internal workings and the engines were exposed to show firing
chambers and thrust capacitors.
“Where... where...” “Where
did I get it?” Arr had been awaiting the question and he jumped up onto the
back of the transporter, resting a huge hand delicately on the nose. “I was
sorting for spares in an old junkyard on Lydon and this thing was just sat
under a pile of piping. The owner of the yard was selling up and he sold it
for a reasonable price, after I told him that it was a worthless shell which
I could tear apart for scraps.” Ranjid jumped up and stood next to Arr, afraid to
touch the ship in case it dissolved under his fingers. “How
much?” Arr lowered his head conspiratorially and
whispered. “Two thousand.” “What!”
Ranjid couldn’t believe it. He had heard of a Sunwing, incomplete, which was
in the hands of a collector on the New Republic capital of Coruscant. She had paid over a million standard
credits. He looked over the ship and stepped forward. Arr
motioned invitingly at the fighter. “Check her over.” Ranjid suddenly switched to professional mode,
walking around the craft and looking under and over it. “Full
ablative panels, sub-frame conduit wiring in fully shielded encasing, fluidic
connectors for pilot interface, Noval variant engine bays, twin Boldoc
Blastercannons, lower bay for torpedo launchers... dammit, Arr, this things
almost completely original. We’re going to be rich. How is she hovering like
that?” The lizard shrugged. “Beats
me. I tampered with her for a little while and it just turned on. She doesn’t
even have any landing gear, just like the original specs.” “Can I
check out the cockpit?” “Sure,”
Arr said, “but it’s fused. The atmosphere pressurisation seals have decayed
and sealed it shut. That’s one of the reasons I bought her here...” “... to
use my sonic de-sealer.” Ranjid finished for him. He smiled, trying to peer
through the dirt on the plastiglass but failing to see anything inside. “I’ll
get my stuff. For freck’s sake get
it inside the hangar. I don’t want any opportunists seeing this.” After a
few minutes the transporter had been driven into the hangar by the
Sullustian. The crowd gathering around the ship started growing steadily as
more and more workers saw the antique on the back. Ranjid allowed them to
gather his timetable for the evening's work forgotten. He pressed a few
buttons on a wristcomp and a thin wiry ‘droid with a heavy backpack in the
far corner activated, walking slowly to Ranjid’s position. The crowd parted
and allowed the automaton with the sonic de-sealer to approach. Brackli passed a small gun-shaped item to Ranjid
and a wire spooled out from the ‘droids backpack. “Stand
back, everyone. I don’t want any of you vomiting on this baby with sonic
sickness.” Many retreated, and
Ranjid placed a pair of heavy mufflers over his ears and leaned forward. Arr
placed his hands on his ears. The gun-shaped object started with a hum that
built in volume. Ranjid adjusted the intensity so that he would have enough
sonic disruption to split the seal but not enough to damage the ship. Then he
leaned forward and started slicing. The seal came away easily, crumbling under the
power of the tool and effectively opening the cockpit. When he had split the
entire seal, he stood back to allow Arr to step forward. He placed one hand
at the rear of the sliding cockpit window and shoved. It moved forward easily, an old power cell
activating and taking the job from Arr’s hand. It slid open slowly on
grinding motors and stopped when it had fully opened. Arr and Ranjid reeled from the stench. Neither of them had expected to see the pilot,
still strapped in his specially moulded seat, his flesh peeling from his
bones. The cockpit had been sealed for a long time, preserving the body
somewhat but allowing some degree of decomposition. The body appeared to be
human, the helmet lop-sided on the skull. With his hand over his nose Ranjid waved at
Brackli. “Get
everyone back.” “Come
on, gentlebeings, move away.” Brackli’s instructions were heeded, more from
the drifting stench than his wishes. Arr, whose olfactory senses were less than
effective, leaned forward. “The
junkyard guy said that he found the ship crashed in the mountains, but never
got around to opening it up or checking it out. Yeuch.” Placing a rag over his mouth and nose, Ranjid moved
forward also. “Looks
like he’s been there a while. I wonder if we could power up...” With a flick of a switch the cockpit lights blazed
into life. “Built
to last.” Arr said, wiping the finger he had used to activate the
instrumentation on his trousers. He peered at a small screen on the panel.
“According to the log this thing last flew... sixty-two years ago. Damn.” “I
wonder who he was?” Ranjid wondered, trying to read the helmet lettering.
“G-L-A... I can’t make out the rest.” “Well,
wipe it off.” “Forget
it, I’m not touching him.” Arr reached over with a handkerchief he had
produced from his pocket and wiped the helmet roughly. The corpse’s head
wobbled as if the body was trying to resist Arr’s attempts at cleaning it,
but the letters underneath were smeared and unintelligible. He shook his head
and sighed. “Well,
that’s that. I guess his name’s going to die with him.” “Looking
at this,” Ranjid observed, “the ship’s computer core is wiped. The only entry
is the immediate log giving us the date. There’s a recording as well.” He
looked at Arr. Arr looked back expectantly, and shrugged. “Well?” “Switch
it.” A bleep, the sound of age-old computer systems
restarting and a small screen activated giving system details. Arr wiped the
dirty monitor. “Last
place of reference is a planet called Klaem, Corb Sector.” “That’s
the other side of the galaxy!” “Wait,
there’s an audio recording.” If anyone
listens to this, know that I died trying to save my world. I’m not one
for speeches or personal feelings, so I’ll keep this to the point. I know my
cockpit seal is jammed and I can’t eject. Power levels are dropping in my
engine pods and I’m losing orbit. I reckon I’ll be on the surface in about an
hour. That hardly matters. My oxygen reserves will be depleted in ten minutes
and my re-circulator unit is so much scrap metal after that last barrage. Hopefully,
others of my clan will find me in time, but this recording is for the members
of the Setnin Sector. Me and my clan have been fighting an evil for a long
time, an alien with influence so far that it is said that even the Republic
and the Trade Federation watch him carefully. We were on a mission to find
this alien and stop him from undermining governments and whole worlds with
his powerbase, but the leads we have so carefully followed for two years were
nothing but an elaborate trap. Before we were all wiped out, we did find out
that our adversary had designs on the Setnin Sector, and using his influence
was going to shape that whole part of space for his own ends. Beware of
Longbody. Say his name with fear. He is the destroyer, the malignant heart of
the darkness that lurks behind every government. “Gosh.”
Arr said. “If he’s ‘not one for speeches’ then I’d hate to meet his race’s poets.”
Ranjid waved him quiet. Know this,
Setnin. This vessel is a wonder to me, a wonder to all my friends who fly
with me. All the ships of my party were given to us as keepsakes by our wives
and loved ones. We fly these vessels with joy and love in our hearts. When we
touch them we touch our family. When we seat ourselves in them we commit
ourselves to the loving arms of our wives and children. These are our links
to our homeworld, each ship a constant reminder of why we fight Longbody. If
my race does not survive this, then please believe we were once peaceful,
until Longbody came and corrupted our weak hearts. If my clan
finds me, I hope they carry out my last request - bury me with my ship. Let
me stay within the embrace of those I love as I travel to the next world.
This is my wish. I love you,
Tameer, and little Huji. I wish I could see you both just one more time, let
your laughter flow over me and bask in your affections. As I fall into my
forever slumber I will think of you both. The recording clicked off. Ranjid looked at the body, trying to imagine what
kind of being he was who felt so passionately about his family and his
vessel. What kind of being would allow himself to be torn from his wife and
child to fight an alien whose name he didn’t recognise, half a century ago in
a part of the galaxy he knew nothing about. And why, with his last dying
breath, he had warned the Setnin Sector of Longbody, an alien he had never
heard of and who had never been a threat to the sector. A being whose ancient expensive ship was now in
his hands. “Ever
heard of Longbody?” Ranjid asked Arr, who was stood stock still, obviously
moved by what he had heard. “Yes,
but I can’t believe this recording. Longbody’s a myth, a ghost story. People
say they’ve worked for him, but no one really knows whether he exists. He’s a
kind of a legend in my part of the sector. You know, like the big tales of
giant space slugs Gillion used to entertain us with. He’s supposed to be
ruthless and it goes that he could get to anyone anywhere, no matter who they
were or what position they held. But no one ever met him. I think someone was
using his name as a reputation enhancer and this poor soul was chasing a
lie.” “He
seemed quite serious about it.” With a huge sigh Arr looked out over the hangar. “He
spent two years hunting a ghost and it killed him. He died over a world he
didn’t know in a part of space that was pretty much as far as home as he
could get. I feel kind of guilty having opened the cockpit. I feel as though
we’ve intruded somehow.” With full agreement, Ranjid slowly slid the
cockpit canopy back into place. “He died
sixty years ago, Arr. Maybe his race doesn’t even exist anymore. Maybe they
don’t even remember this conflict if they do. We’ve got our hands on someone
else’s dream. His ship.” Arr nodded, seemingly worried. “The
question is, what do we do with the
ship?” Ranjid looked at Arr and saw indecision written
into his frown. The ship, this beautiful Sunwing with almost all-original
parts, was their ticket to a prosperous future. They also knew that the
reality of the previous owners' love for the vessel was sat in the cockpit,
voicing his feelings sixty years on. Ranjid reached a decision and knew that Arr would
support him. “Come
on, my friend. We’ve got a big hole to dig.” An Ancient Warning 1999 short story by
Jonathan Hicks Six years after Episode IV - A New Hope Histories – A vessel
from far across the galaxy enters the Setnin Sector, bringing along with it a full history of trouble and intrigue. Featuring three of the Setnin Sectors
prime mechanics, this tale of a lost ship begins the inexorable rise towards
the conclusion of the Glann Cipple story. Cast of Characters Ranjid Arr Sharn Brackli |