Chain Reaction - (Deathclaws x NOP) Chapter 9

Ok, peak behind the curtain here. I'm an accountant. I had every intention of getting this out before tax day, but this is from a new character's perspective, and I had difficulty with it. Still not happy with it, but I can see if I can improve over time.

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Memory transcription subject: Junior Raider Taxif, Prisoner of War

Date [standardized human time]: July 20, 2136

I had been a prisoner of the deathclaws for days at this point, and I was still struggling to understand them.  Other than overt threats of violence.  Those they were perfectly clear on, and I was well accustomed to understanding them.  But even then - they were threats only.  None of them had ever laid a claw on me.  And it wasn’t just me getting this special treatment either.  I had yet to see any deathclaw beat another, or even evidence of recent beatings.  Captain Cyrus was the only one I saw that had any significant scarring, and that was only after he had gone through a fire fight with the rest of my former crew.  

To be fair, I had been in the medbay for almost my entire stay, so I had only seen a few deathlcaws.  The deathclaws would never stop talking to me or leave me unattended; they even seemed a little annoyed that I didn’t want to talk all that much.  And worst of all, they were feeding me so much, I actually had to turn down food for fear of vomiting it up.  They had thankfully cleaned up the other beds, so my former crewmates weren't littered all over the place.

The deathclaws had packed up and stored the bodies in a series of metallic crates, which had then been transported somewhere else on the ship.  It took me two days to realize that they were likely storing my crewmembers in the same way they keep their rations.  Like the deathclaws thought of us as prey.  That was also yet another oddity.  They didn’t have any live prey on board their ship.  I never heard, saw or even smelled prey at any point.  I chanced asking Kira about it, but she just said that it would be inefficient.  

That, along with some of our other conversations led me to believe that these deathclaws hadn’t yet masted FTL.  Cattle holding and processing were the highest priorities on a ship after it was made space worthy.  For that to be forgone and dried rations used in its place… I shuddered to think what unseen methods the Captain had to utilize to keep the other deathclaws in place without fresh blood on their tongues and the wails of frightened prey in their ears.  Not that I particularly missed either of those things.  When it had been my shift for slaughter duty, I had found it best to shut out the screams and just let the knife do the work.  Quicker started, quicker done and all that.  

I took another bite of the “bighorner shank” that had been offered to me.  It tasted a bit like venlil but heartier somehow, like it had been soaked in broth before being made into jerky.  Which was likely the source of my reminiscing thoughts.  Though calling a cut of meat the size of my forearm jerky was still an adjustment.  Also being given my preferred cut of meat was a novelty; while not juicy, it was the closest I found that the deathclaws had.  

Speaking of good treatment, I wasn’t even chained to the bed anymore.  I was still shackled, my arms and legs still had a length of chain linking them together, the latter of which clinked slightly as my legs swayed slightly as I bit off another chunk of the shank.  Dr. Kira was sitting at her usual station, fiddling with whatever results she just got from her test, having taken a vial of blood from my arm a moment ago.  With a needle and everything.  Mouse was also there.  

The deathclaws seemed to assign a different guard to me every few hours.  Mouse was my favorite - they almost never talked.  The deathclaws themselves seemed to have a high variance in color of their scales.  Hues of green sported by the captain and doctor were the most common, with sandy browns like the first officer and Mouse being right behind it.  One of them even seemed to have tiny spines running across stretches of their body.  So they seemed to tolerate physical deviance at least.  Whether or not there was a hierarchy of their bloodlines hadn’t been something I was able to pick up on.  

I still had very little idea of what the deathclaws actually did on the day to day.  Sure we were on a ship, so there was always maintenance to be done, and sensors to be monitored, but from what Kira had told me, they were oddly communal.  Most of them slept together in shared bedrooms.  I shuddered at the thought.  

Despite my confusion, I was the happiest I had been in years.  It was a pleasant few minutes of near silence as I got to munch on tasty meat where I could pretend I was all alone.  And then with a loud clunk, the ship shook.  My eyes snapped out of their haze and focused on my surroundings.  Sure enough, Mouse had a claw on the door frame to stabilize themselves from the shake, but they didn't otherwise react to it.  Kira didn’t comment on the matter either.  The ship hadn’t shaken like that as long as I had been on it.  Was this ship safe?  I realized in dread that I knew very little about these new predators.  What if it wasn’t actually space worthy.  

I cleared my throat “Uh, the ship shook just now…” 

“Perfectly normal.” said Kira, not looking up from her computer table.  She let the words hang in the air for a moment before elaborating.  “We’ve landed.”  

Again, they didn’t specify where we landed.  I assumed deathclaw territory somewhere, but without any viewports it was all speculation.  

“Sit tight.” said Mouse in a rare audible moment.  “We’re scheduled last off.” 

I heard some vague noises from around the ship as the deathclaws started to move about, frequently sounding like they were moving something heavy.  The reason we were last was obvious - me.  In their questions, it had been obvious that the deathclaws didn’t expect to run into aliens so quickly into their journey, so having one as a prisoner was an unexpected headache for them.  Hopefully one they didn’t simplify with my death.    

Eventually, Kira began to change her pattern of activity, and began gathering her own supplies.  She planned it perfectly as no sooner was her pack slung over her shoulder, there was a loud knocking at the door.  Mouse opened the door to reveal two more large, armed deathclaws in some variant of uniform that the Atom’s crew wore.  They weren’t what grabbed my attention though.  In between the two deathclaws, was some sort of mechanical person.  Two arms, two legs, but its hands were three pronged clamps, and it had one large central red eye.  It smelled of motor oil and ozone, neither of which was my favorite smell, but was a welcome reprieve from the disinfectant the deathclaws used which had been clawing at my nose for days now.  

“Ride’s here.” said Mouse, with a gesture of her gun.  I was led out of the medbay and through the halls of the ship.  The strange machine taking point, and the four deathclaws behind me.  What struck me was how small this machine was - it was only about 6 feet tall, so I towered over it - a welcome change of pace from the deathclaws who in turn towered over me.  It must have been a human design.  But why was it still in operation centuries later?  

Answers were not forthcoming - the only sound the deathclaws made was the sound of their toe claws clacking on the metal floor, to which I replied in kind plus the ever present jangling of my shackles.   I descended the ramp into an active (by which I meant very loud) dry dock, the cavernous hangar was more than large enough to hold the ship, while giving the large cranes and other heavy ship manufacturing equipment room to maneuver.  There were a dozen deathclaws growling orders to one another if there was one of them.  A handful of those weird machines too - though obviously a different model, these were too slow and ponderous to be compared to the one in front of me.  I caught more than a few stares from the hangar deathclaws once they realized who I was, but they did not have time to gawk as I was hastily ushered from the hangar.  

The metallic corridors that greeted me were brightly illuminated from light strips running parallel across the edges of the ceiling, and were nearly indistinguishable from the halls of their ship.  Many of the walls were adorned with the blocky deathclaw script, often using different colors paired with arrows and other iconography.  But what really struck me was despite how massive the hallways needed to be to contain the deathclaw’s bulk, everything felt cramped.  Like they had sat down and done the math on the bare minimum amount of space needed for every little thing, and ran with that design.  

The hallways were suspiciously absent of any other deathclaws, meaning that this was a preplanned route that had been cleared for security purposes.  Without anyone to obstruct our path, we arrived at what appeared to me to just be another metal door, which the machine opened for us.  Inside was what I assumed to be officer's quarters.  The room was just big enough to contain a plush foam mattress, a computer terminal -one that was likely unpowered given the blank screen - and a private bathroom.  It continued the deathclaw’s aesthetic of bare metal, but the walls, ceiling and floor had an odd patchwork look to them, not seen in the other rooms.  My nose told me welding had been done here recently.

“These will be your accommodations.” said Dr. Kira from behind me.  “Get some rest.  Meals will be brought to you.  Give me your hands.” I turned and was surprised to see a key in her claws.  With two quick turns, the shackles from my hands were removed.  

Kira continued “Those shackles were removed as a sign of good faith.  The shackles on your legs will remain in place for security purposes.  Don’t try to remove them.  We don’t plan on holding you indefinitely, but our government and yours needs to hammer out a deal.”  

I nodded slowly while taking in my surroundings.   “I don’t know what favors you expect to extract.” I said honestly.  “I was not highly valued in the Dominion.”

Kira shrugged “You’d be surprised.  Oh, one more thing.  There will be yellow pills with your meals, swallow those whole. It’ll help with the radiation.”

“Is it really that bad?” I asked.  

Kira shrugged before flipping a switch on the computer on her arm, which immediately began crackling.  My scales seemed to contract in on my heart.  With the proliferation of anti-matter warheads, everyone knew the sound of a geiger counter, and knew you never wanted to be anywhere near it.  After a moment of mental math, Kira said “We’re clocking about 10mSv per day.  Did those units translate?” 

Kira saw the look of abject horror on my face.  “I guess that translated.  Glad we didn’t bring you to Earth.”

“If not Earth, where are we?” I asked.

“Jupiter station, major ship yard.  Not cleared to say more yet.  Get some rest.” 

I took the dismissal for what it was, and ventured into what was now to be my room, with the door hissing shut as soon as my tail was clear.  A moment later, I heard a dull thunk as whatever locking mechanism was engaged.  

I spent a few moments slowly pacing through the space, looking in the various nooks and crannies, wondering if there was any unseen trap waiting to be sprung.  Nothing.  In the silence that lingered, I recalled the geiger counter and shuddered at the thought of the deadly invisible energy that I was currently being bombarded with.  Hopefully the deathclaws wouldn’t leave me here too long.  

—-- Time advance: 2 hours, 13 minutes.  Reason: uneventful —--

As the deathclaws had promised, my food had been brought nearly an hour ago, by Mouse actually.  I was unsure if they were being assigned as my guard on a more permanent basis, or if they were trying to minimize the number of faces I was seeing.  Mouse, as usual, was sparse on the details.  I was unsure what cut of meat they had included in my meal, only that it was actually fresh, instead of the dried jerky I had been given for the past few days.  Apparently the deathclaw's love of drying their meats applied only to long voyages - this steak was deliciously juicy, but still cooked for some odd reason.  

I had polished off the plate of the food, and the medicine with it too, and had been laying on the rather spacious bed when there was a knock at the door, and I heard it unlatch.  Turning, I saw two more deathclaws and the strange human machine again.  One of them said “Come with us, the General will see you now.” in a tone that indicated that this was not an optional event.  I was unsure if these were the same guards that had escorted me the first time, I did not get a particularly good look at them, and I could count on my claws the number of deathclaws I had seen in total.  

I shuffled out of the room and back into the industrial hallways for an alarmingly short journey.  After pulling back a heavy door, which had been guarded by its own set of armed deathclaws, I laid eyes on what I assumed was our equivalent of Chief Hunter.  Their Chief Hunter, General Ward as I had heard them called, was adorning very similar armor that the Atom’s crew had been wearing during our ill-advised boarding attempt, but his was painted jet black, with green light being emitted from the seams, and there was a number of pylons jutting from his back of unknown purpose.  Having seen Captian Cyrus both in and out of his own armor, I could surmise that General Ward was massive, even my deathclaw standards.  

The room was less sparse than what I had seen thus far of deathclaw spaces.  It had a central desk with a computer terminal, and there were a number of cushioned seats opposite it for the purposes of meeting with underlings.  The wall opposite the door was dominated by a large (and currently blank) monitor, likely for use with briefings, and in each corner was a red, white, blue and black flag on a flag pole.  But I could see no trophies, but also no signs that blood had been scrubbed off the of the floor, so that was a positive.  

“Well I’ll be damned.  We got ourselves a genuine extra-terrestrial.” said the General without preamble, their voice being modulated by the power armor.  The General circled me for a moment, looking me over head to toe, getting uncomfortably close more than once.  I tried to stay as still as possible, but when I chanced a glance, I also saw the guards that had accompanied me being similarly wary.  When the General found himself in front of me again, he nodded at me before acknowledging the deathclaws in the room “Dismissed.” he said simply, and the guards left without objection.  

He focused his attention back on me “General Ward at your service.” with a nod and a gesture with his clawed hand that I took as an invitation to speak. 

“Taxif - Raider, Junior Class, here at your request, your Savageness.” I said with a bow, not knowing the proper honorifics, but hoping the translator would fill in the gaps.  I saw General Ward pause, head cocked to the side, as the translator did its job.  

The General seemed to chew on his words for a moment, possibly literally before he addressed me.  “Right.  Ground rules.  We don’t know how you folk get along, and you’re in the same boat with us.  So, I will give you the genuine truth, in as much detail as I can muster.  You will do the same.  So long as you adhere to our accord, no harm will befall you.  Additionally, your release for our custody is not contingent on your participation in these discussions of ours.  Are these terms amenable?”

I nodded immediately “More than fair, your Savageness.” I said, wondering how the General would even think I had an objection to any of that.  

“I’ll start us off then.” said the General, stepping back from me, looking around the room, though not really seeing it.  “Itss been reported to me that you got the run down of how we deal with radiation from the Atom’s crew.  That a fair assessment?”  

I nodded.  

“Well, some of us take to it a bit easier than others, and wind up being a source of more radiation rather than a sink.  That being the which a why of my fancy suit and your prolonged stay in the clink there.  Got a vague idea of your tolerance from the doctor - you had a lot less shielding on the Atom than you do here.  But we’re trying to keep you on this side of the grave.  Your turn.”

“Where’s your cattle, and why do you cook it?” I blurted out.  I probably should have thought more about my question, but I just had to know at this point.  

“To the first.  Back on solid ground.” replied the General.  “Only things that have already been slaughtered get sent to space, and only the things that keep make it to the ship - ain’t worked the kinks of out the filters yet for proper butchering.  To the second, you can blame the humans.  Loved to cook the humans did, and we picked up some of their recipes as we picked through their rubble.  Plus it’s just plain more palatable.  What’s Betterment?”  

The General’s sudden switch caught me off guard for a moment “I- I -Its.  It’s our everything.”  It was my turn to stare into the mid-distance as I assembled my thoughts.  “Our guiding philosophy and our government.  They seek to strengthen our bloodlines by tempering them with hunger, and culling them of the weakness of empathy.  To extol the virtues of the predator, and to condemn the folly of the leaflicker.” I said starkly recalling these lessons from my childhood.  

“...Oh we’re gonna be sitting a spell ain’t we?”