Nightmare Beyond the Horizon (4)
Most Spacedog cartels make their living raiding the ships of other species. When they manage to plunder a superior vessel, they typically abandon their old one and transfer to the new prize.
Because of this, most cartels pour all their attention into their ships' weaponry and neglect everything else.
The Rusrak Cartel was different.
Their primary source of income was capturing and smuggling rare animals. Pillaging was nothing more than a side business.
So they had far more to look after than a ship's armament.
Facilities for safely housing captured beasts, storage for the animals' feed, hangar facilities for the shuttle craft used to catch creatures living in open space—the list went on.
With so many necessities, the Rusrak Cartel's ship was relatively massive for a cartel of its size.
A 300-meter-long, 70-meter-tall space vessel—by sheer size, it rivaled a Mega Corp light destroyer.
The Rusrak Cartel called their ship the Calvin.
Milo had christened it long ago, after seizing a Star Union trading vessel.
That great marauder was now closing in on its new prey.
"Ten minutes until we reach the signal."
"We're right on top of it. So why can't we see anything?"
All that appeared on the colossal display at the front of the situation room was an endless stretch of darkness.
Skywhales were creatures that glowed like deep-sea animals, and their light was so vivid and beautiful that it could be spotted from an enormous distance.
Against the monochrome black of space, it should have been visible from far off.
Milo ordered his subordinate.
"Check the signal again."
"We should be seeing it by now…"
Just then, an emergency alarm blared through the situation room—a signal from the central AI computer that controlled the ship.
WARNING! WARNING!
In that instant, a pitch-black ship materialized on the display. The distance between them was, quite literally, point-blank.
Milo shouted in shock.
"What the—! Evasive maneuvers, NOW!"
"Brace yourselves, everyone!"
The hull heaved violently as the ship lurched into evasive action. The black ship on the display swept past them and vanished beyond the edge of the screen.
Every pirate except Milo screamed and went sprawling across the floor.
Milo, a Wolf blessed with bestial grace and a seasoned warrior besides, held his stance alone as he roared at his subordinates.
"You lazy monkey bastards! Get off the floor and check the merchandise before you check yourselves!"
"Yes, yes, sir!"
The crew scrambled to their feet at the captain's furious bellow, hammering at their consoles to assess any damage inside the ship.
"There was a ship right in front of us. Why didn't we detect it?"
"Uh—I'll look into it."
Starks, the vice-captain, rubbed his still-numb backside as he worked the situation room's terminal. Then his expression turned strange.
"Captain."
"What?"
"You know how Star Union ships are absolute demons at reading energy flows, right?"
"Of course I know."
"Th-that ship isn't giving off a single electrical signature."
"What?"
The vice-captain threw his terminal readings up onto the display.
His words were true, and that was exactly what unsettled Milo.
"Hold on. So the ship we nearly rammed is already a dead ship?"
"That's not all. The signal we tracked is coming from that ship."
"……"
In other words, the vessel they had stumbled upon was a contradiction—a ship with no machinery running at all, yet continuously broadcasting biological signals.
What kind of monkey-balls situation is this?
While Milo and Starks wrestled with the problem, someone in the situation room muttered.
"A g-ghost ship…"
Milo's brow furrowed at the words.
"Which monkey bastard said that? There's no such thing as ghosts in space."
"B-but Captain, you know it too! The Dvara Cartel ran into a ghost ship and got absolutely slaughtered…"
A few months earlier, the Dvara Cartel—which had styled itself the undisputed ruler of Sector C-08—had collapsed completely in a single mysterious incident.
According to the rumors, the Dvara Cartel's captain and vice-captain had gone out on a raid as usual, encountered a ghost ship, and vanished without a trace.
"We're p-pirates, but we can't beat ghosts!"
"We need to run, right now!"
Milo drove his foot into the situation room floor. When his footprint stamped itself deep into the hardened metal plating, every pirate fell silent at once.
"All of you, shut up. There are no ghost ships."
"Captain! But—!"
"Think about it logically. C-08 is hundreds of light-years from here. You're telling me a ghost ship warped all the way here in superluminal travel?"
"W-well, if it's a g-ghost ship, couldn't it m-manage that?"
"Then I guess the ghost was firing plasma cannons and raising shields while it was at it. What absolute nonsense."
The pirates quickly steadied themselves at their captain's unshakable calm.
Once the fear had drained from their eyes, Milo gave his orders.
"We need to find out what that ship is. Starks—you take the boys and board it."
"Sir?"
"Sending nothing but cowardly monkey bastards is the bigger risk. You'll lead the party yourself."
"……"
"Relax, kid. I'll be watching the whole time."
"Tch. Yes, sir."
Starks nodded, his face sour.
Still, capturing an intact ship meant gains that far outweighed any losses.
Everything in the cargo hold would become theirs.
What could be inside?
Having dispatched his vice-captain, Milo fixed his gaze on the mysterious vessel looming on the display.
They're here.
Sensing the approaching ship, I opened my closed eyes.
A week had passed since I arrived in this sector, I-97.
In that time, I had devoted myself entirely to testing the functions of the eroded ship.
Being able to travel faster than light is very encouraging.
The greatest advantage of eroding a ship was that most of its capabilities became usable as if they were part of my own body.
Beyond basic navigation, faster-than-light flight via the photonic engine worked without a hitch—and in that mode, I could draw on the ship's residual energy reserves instead of my own.
Otherwise, keeping a ship running for long stretches would have been difficult.
Since I could tap into plasma energy, any turret installations would be mine to use as well.
Another advantage: I could reshape the ship's structure into whatever form I wished. I could build traps infused with my own traits throughout the hull.
Spore pods in the ceiling that fired rot-mold, sections of the floor transformed into claw traps laced with the Ghost Claws effect—the possibilities were endless. The ship was, for all intents and purposes, a second body.
The Monster's Tentacles have come in handy too.
The ship now approaching had come looking for me precisely because I'd grown a massive Monster's Tentacle inside my vessel and pulsed its psychic wavelength outward.
It had probably mistaken me for a Skywhale or a Galagon.
It sounded like nothing but advantages so far, but as with all things in this world, drawbacks existed too.
It's a shame I can't move while piloting the ship.
The Erosion Tentacles extending from my dorsal carapace had to stay connected to the vessel, so travel was impossible.
In this state I could still summon my brood or shift my body slightly, but actual movement was out of the question.
My physical-related traits were also locked away, unusable.
If they weren't, the applications would be endless.
I could sprout wings from the outer hull to glide through a planet's upper atmosphere, or combine Bite Force with Metal Absorption to tear into other ships and reinforce my main body. The restrictions made all of it impossible, which was a genuine pity.
Furthermore, while eroding one ship, I could not erode or control another.
Naturally, the tentacles in my own body had to remain tethered to the ship. I could grow new ones along the interior and exterior walls, but those couldn't be used for erosion.
If I wanted a new ship, I would have to abandon the old one.
Still, the tentacles themselves have decent specs.
Even without any special functions, they were more than capable of hunting down enemies.
Come to think of it, this ship is bigger than I expected.
As it drew closer, its sheer scale became unmistakable.
Compared to the vessel I controlled, it was nearly three times the size.
Few Spacedog outfits operated ships that large.
Either a top-tier cartel, or smugglers—those were the ones who typically flew vessels that size.
Judging by the headcount alone, they're not an upper-tier cartel. Way too few bodies.
My guess was smugglers—and not common rabble, but the skilled kind.
They're well equipped for smuggling, too. Not many, but they even carry shuttle craft.
From its silhouette, it resembled a Star Union freighter or a Mega Corp assault ship, though I couldn't be certain.
I'll have to verify the details once I'm aboard.
If it was the ship I suspected, it would make a fine vessel to transfer into.
A smuggler's ship means plenty to eat.
Better still, by targeting a smuggling vessel I could harvest the data stored in its computers—information on which creatures lived on which planets, which routes allowed safe infiltration onto a world, and so on.
Thinking ahead to Transcendence Stage 2, I'll need wild animals on top of sapient life.
In truth, even setting Stage 2 aside, crossing from Young Adult to Adult required genetic samples from many different species.
Seems like my next destination is decided.
Of course, first I would need to secure control of that ship.
As it happened, the vessel was already attempting to dock with my side.
Before welcoming my guests, I ought to confirm whether domination was even possible.
I focused my mind and grew Erosion Tentacles along the outer hull of the ship I commanded.
A long docking port extended from the enemy vessel and locked into place against my ship.
All the while, my Erosion Tentacles crept silently beneath the docking port and fastened themselves on.
The translucent text box that appeared when selecting an erosion target guided me along.
Just as I already knew, I couldn't dominate it outright—not yet. But I could at least confirm whether it qualified as an erosion target.
Let's see.
The Erosion Tentacles completed their check and reported the results back to me.
Thank goodness it can be dominated.
The good news was that even a pirate ship three times my size qualified for erosion—but a few problems came attached.
First, the time required for full erosion was considerably longer than it had been for this ship.
Five hours until completion.
On top of that, I could maintain domination for only ten days.
So the bigger the dominated target, the more energy it burns to hold it.
That meant I needed to consume as much energy as possible before beginning the erosion. Only then could I stretch the domination period.
I'll have to move carefully.
I retracted the Erosion Tentacles that had sprouted along the outer hull.
A week has already passed, so relocating the ship itself won't be a problem.
My energy reserves weren't large, though, so the moment I crossed over to that ship, preparation would come first.
I'll hunt as needed and build up my energy first.
Once I devoured the smugglers and their contraband animals, I would have more than enough energy to dominate the new vessel for a long time.
And when the moment was right, I would finish the erosion—and that ship would be mine.
But first, let me deal with whoever just came aboard.
Whether they called themselves an exploration team or not, a column of figures began crossing over through the docking port. I had already weakened the door at the port's junction so they could enter the ship with ease.
What the hell? Why's this thing so flimsy?
Saves us wasting time, at least.
Cut the chatter and get moving.
The pirates' voices carried directly into my mind as they entered the ship.
This vessel was my nest—my second body—so I could perceive everything about them: what they said, how they acted, even the state of their bodies.
They're wearing vacuum suits.
Knowing in advance that this was a dead ship, the pirates had come suited up. And to handle any unexpected crisis, each of them had armed themselves with an assortment of weapons.
They had even brought bombs—presumably to erase the whole thing if they judged the situation beyond salvage.
Not that it would do them any good.
Those weapons would serve well against dangerous wild beasts. But the thing waiting for them now was no mere animal.
Who could possibly imagine that the very ship under their feet was hunting them?
Alright, split up and sweep the ship.
Yes, sir.
Oh, Justin—get down to the engine room and check its condition.
Engines cost a fortune. On it.
The boarding party began splitting apart to search the ship quickly.
Good.
Before they arrived, I had radically scrambled the ship's interior layout—turned it into a proper labyrinth.
And there are plenty of traps besides.
I closed my eyes again.
One of the tangled corridors snaking through the ship connected to the engine room where I waited.
Motherfucking hell, this place gives me the creeps.
Through the abruptly transformed corridor, the one called Justin was walking toward the engine room, knowing nothing.
"Huh? The engine room should be right through here."
Justin, an engineer in the employ of the Rusrak Cartel, knew ship layouts inside and out—Mega Corp vessels and Star Union vessels alike.
The liner they had boarded was built across three decks, with the engine room on the very lowest level.
Under normal circumstances, the descending stairway should have been right in front of him. Instead, all that stretched before him was a corridor so long he couldn't see its end.
"What is this?"
This ship wasn't nearly as large as the Rusrak Cartel's Calvin. He'd been walking without pause, so he should have reached the far side by now.
Something's wrong.
A knot of dread tightening in his chest, Justin activated the communicator inside his suit.
"Vice-Captain Starks?"
"Vice-Captain?"
Only unintelligible fragments and sinister static came through the comm.
"…I-it'll be fine, right?"
The Calvin was holding position just outside. If anything had happened aboard this ship, they would have moved to deal with it long before now.
Forcing himself to believe that, he pressed onward.
The suit's lamp was the only light in the corridor, swallowed on every side by blackness.
Darkness, and then more darkness.
It felt as though even the lamp's glow was being drained into those unnaturally black walls.
As he walked, something reached Justin's ears.
"Heheheheheh."
"!"
He spun around, heart slamming against his ribs.
It was unmistakably the corridor he had walked down, yet it seemed deeply, horribly unfamiliar—as though the passage had rearranged itself behind his back while he moved.
"I-I must've misheard. Yeah, that's it. R-right? Then it's nothing."
Muttering strained nothings to himself, he started walking again.
The instant Justin's foot came down, the sound came once more.
"Kyahahahaha!"
"F-fuck! Who's there?!"
In open space, aboard a dead ship, what he had heard was unmistakably the laughter of a young girl.
Vacuum suit or no, he could feel gooseflesh rising across his entire body.
M-motion detector! Turn it on—!
He fumbled a small device from the tool pack at his waist.
A motion detector—it registered the movement of living things, displaying anything that stirred nearby on the little radar screen.
He switched it on, and the machine's indicator lit up green.
"There we go… huh?"
Staring at the radar readout, he doubted his own eyes.
Signals were lighting up across the entire area surrounding him.
"Wh-what the hell is this?"
Signals were glowing directly in front of him. Frozen in horror, he lifted his head—and came face to face with them.
Eyes had opened across the whole of the corridor, and every one of them was glaring at him.
Eyes glowing violet against the black walls.
The moment his gaze met them, Justin realized he was already screaming.
Fleeing the raining stares, he ran like a madman.
A door was visible up ahead—the door to the engine room, which had never appeared until now. It was waiting for him.
Was it a hallucination conjured by pure terror? Or was it the heart of the ship itself, calling him closer?
Justin would never know who had called to him.
For a man desperate for someone—anyone—to guide him out, the question hardly mattered.
Justin answered the summons and opened the door to the engine room.