The Voyages of Voltz
A BYOTale
These are tales of events long passed & almost forgotten — Legends
The Inception
There were eleven goddesses, each of a different father, each named after a sacred stone.
One day The Mother summoned the daughters to visit her on a raw, untended planet. They have never seen each other before but when they did they did not take to each other at all.
They bickered all night, upended mountains, boiled the oceans, pushed the moons off orbit. There was no limit to their malice and no affront too great as they even poked fun at the suns. They did not leave anything unscathed until the planet looked as if it got stitched together in a manic spasm. Then they got tired and left, each sped off in a different direction in her own shiny ship and pledged to never see the others again.
The Mother never said why and to what purpose but before they departed she asked them to leave something behind on this forsaken planet that would be useful and could grow. A token of goodwill after all the malice they’ve let loose on the place. And that they did. Before each rocket cleared the atmosphere a small probe left its belly and splashed down on a surface leaving but a tiny mark.
Each daughter tried to be more mischievous than the next, still playing their sinister games. One put fire into the crust to forever melt continents and make them uninhabitable. Another made all the seas wroth with eternal anger so that they would be untraversable. Third, planted vicious carnivorous moss that ravaged entire continents. Yet another spawned millions of tiny armored insects that blocked off the suns. The next one introduced winds that blew all of them away, and so on they went, each more malicious than the one before. The last one, not wanting to be outdone, placed a cloud of invisible dust into the atmosphere and said “this is the “shadow of the divine”, I give you thy name Tryptamine, and all life here henceforth will depend on it”. They kept laughing and cursing at each other as they went… and then as quickly as they came they left.
It’s been said that they never saw each other again but that before they departed the Mother announced she will call them back again one day to check up on their mess.
Then the Mother left the planet too and let the elements be.
The Departure (Gustavos)
Maze-Northlands Convoy DM17 loading at Dark Mark HQ West.
The sandstorm has passed and the convoy stood ready. Seven barges in total, fronted with an intricately sculpted Jade figurehead riding on top of the adamantium spiked wedge plow crowning the bow of the first barge. A massive pusher towboat with four oversized turbo boosters and an armored battle barge rounded off the back. They called the tow “Raznar’s Folly” as most of the crew thought it rather superfluous, and the founder of Dark Mark passed into the guild’s annals as rather extravagant.
DM17 was a regularly scheduled supply run, but Dark Mark’s reputation was not built on succumbing to the routine. There was nothing routine about operating a trade route. Anomalies, psionics, weather, wildlife, bounty hunters, pirates, and most recently Goddesses were daily occurrences that Dark Mark’s operations had to contend with. It took a certain level of competence to build a large repeat customer base that eventually allowed a Guild to claim a trade route, and Dark Mark owned and operated the Maze-Northlands highway ever since they routed out the opposition in the Fifth Guild War.
Operations Officer Gustavos did not like to take chances. He favored security over profit margins. If anyone asked what’s his secret sauce to staying in one of the most volatile guild postings for over a decade, he’d answer without hesitation — “intelligence and firepower.” Being informed, and being prepared was a Dark Mark mantra. Some guilds relied on speed to outrun problems, DM preferred to identify and plow them away. This time was no different, even if it were just a routine convoy, which it was until a triple-A tier customer showed up just prior to escort clearance and requested onboarding of undeclared cargo with but a single ask. A small byopill container landed on Gustavo’s desk to ensure full discretion.
To that end, Gustavos made but a small adjustment to the escort manifest. One that would not raise anyone’s immediate attention and give him peace of mind. This was going to be a long night, but the pills he just acquired were more than worth the extra effort.
Gustavos rarely ventured out of the Dark Mark West command complex. He worked and lived there. His autoimmune conditions, a full combo of them, were kept in check through a steady intake of tryptamine and a strict diet. The handful of ingredients that his body did not reject kept him alive. Even the Amazonian humidity did not make his life outside of the habitat easy. His immune system waged an ongoing war with his skin making it constantly inflamed and scaly which made wearing an enviro suit an absolute nightmare. Still, Gustavos did not like to take chances. He put on his specially fitted gear, jacked in a blue slurp nullify pill to help with the pain, and went out for an inspection.
Just beyond the gate, he could see the three Spyder craft that formed the van and would scout ahead with the fourth wake busting in random intervals to cut any tails. Six heavily over-modded Ryders just fast enough to keep up with the tow were to provide close escort. Perimeter security was in the hands of Prefect Vermilion, a particularly psychotic Ancient, and his equally callous former superior Prefect Horst. Their two interceptor-kitted Titans escorted by four Spyders formed the Distant Guard that would stay back beyond sensor range but could arrive on scene within minutes of being called upon. Just to be on the safe side Gustavo put a High Alert team on standby ready to enter the teleportation chamber at a moment’s notice. He expected to have to answer some questions about that costly call, but he’d deal with that later.
The barge train with the repulsorlift engines primed towered over Gustavos and veiled him in a cold shadow. The gun barge was imposing enough from a distance, and absolutely formidable from up close. He looked up at the set of stocky antennas that bristled from the command and sensor module guarded by two double 40-millimeter electromag turrets on both sides. A heavy anti-craft rolling airframe missile launcher and a quad interceptor minigun, all encased in seventy inches of self-sealing bioceramic armor, topped with a class five shield generator rounded off the defenses. The works. It was as expensive as it was heavy. Gustavos advocated procurement of four lighter gun draisins instead but Horst stood his ground.
“Why fight when you can fright,” he said. “No one will even dare to approach us,” recalled Gustavos as he continued walking up the tow. The smell of ozone filled the air. The white-blue glow and a low hum of the repulsors gave him goosebumps. Such power. Such beauty. A floating battleship loaded with precious cargo. He checked the bulky metal couplings between the barges and could already see the relief of “Raznar’s Folly” letters on the bow when he heard a commotion.
Prefect Horst stood by the second barge equipped with cryo containers and was pointing at the readouts.
“Guards! Bring Vili over here!” His deep synthetic voice reverberated on the surface.
Two Psychonauts in crimson guard suits dragged in a squirming Voyager and threw him in front of Horst.
“Why are my mushrooms freezing? Asked Horst, as he shoved his heavy boot into Villi’s stomach. “I told you my mushrooms like it nice and balmy did I not?” He started twisting his boot around.
“Yes… but there are… many organs… they require… r.. refrigeration.” The Voyager struggled to speak as the big Ancient continued to boot-slice him. “The mushrooms… take up only a fra… fraction… of the space, and… and they are wrapped in….”
“Is there a problem Prefect?” Inquired Gustavos as he approached them.
“No, no problem,” Horst answered in his low, steady voice without turning his head. “Just pure insubordination. One that merits a posting to the Frigid Plains.”
“But sir… I was.. j… just doing my…”
“No buts or ifs, you will report to the deck officer and ask to be put in the brig. We shall revisit this when Raznar’s Folly returns.”
“Is this really necessary Horst?” Asked Gustavos. “Need I remind you that this tow and crew is the guild’s property? Dark Mark has spent significant resources training these individuals. They are not your property, nor are they expendable.”
“So you keep repeating, dispatcher,” said Horst as he continued to dig into the visibly distressed Apostle. Villi grabbed Prefect’s huge leg with both hands and started weaving like a lizard trying to free himself from under the weight.
“Let him go or I will have no choice but report this incident to the executive Chapter, and disclose your undeclared cargo,” said Gustavos calmly.
“Report this!” Horst pushed in his armored boot until Villi’s mask filled with vomit and blood. He now lay there motionless. “Do not forget to mention all undisclosed cargo, will you dispatcher?” The Ancient wiped off his boot in the dirt and motioned towards the Psychonaut guards. They dragged the body away without questions.
“You’ve been riding a thin line of late Horst. I believe you just crossed it. Vermilion has been put in charge for a reason.”
“Vermilion is an overzealous youngling who thinks he can speak with the Goddesses by lobotomizing Psychos. He is but fresh, unweathered dust, he is no Ancient, he barely looks it, the skinny shit that he is. Do you truly think the Chapter will risk a greenboi running a route? If you really believe they are sending me along just to complete his training, then you are truly naive, dispatcher.”
“You are going far beyond what you have been tasked with Prefect. These are not your calls to make. You’re not indispensable!” Gustavos struggled to contain his anger.
“When I return,” Horst spoke even more slowly than usual, relishing every word, “after I ensure that all the cargo, including the one that was just loaded by your slimy little gopher that got squished to the ground. Once it all gets to its destination, we shall officially examine your suspect staffing arrangements. Until then, scurry back to your little stuffy room, grab a slurpy, jerk off, watch your monitors and let us do real work, will you… dispatcher?”
Horst walked away swaying slowly from side to side without ever glancing back. Gustavos watched Horst step on the telescopic boarding ladder which bent slightly under his weight before injecting him into the cockpit.
Yellow and blue nav lights shimmered across the black silhouette of his Tytan as it powered up. Horst took a final look at the convoy, his visor shining like gold with the reflection of instrument lights. The craft rose gently. The quiet humm of the oversized circular repulsorlift engines reverberated off the rocky outcrops.
Gustavos watched as Horst gave the go-ahead signal to the pusher tug barge crew looking through the window slits underneath the raised armored shatters. The crew acknowledged the signal and sounded departure with a deafening triple horn whistle.
Vermillion who just finished talking to the close escort looked at Horst, raised his hands in a “what gives” gesture, and repeated the departure authorization signal, but the tug’s bridge was already secured and the barges started to slip through the gate.
The convoy was on the way.
The Tytan’s yellow glowing repulsors shifted into takeoff positions and Horst disappeared into the night, leaving those behind with nothing but black bile and an afterglow.
“You will pay for everything” thought Gustavos, “your time is gonna come, and it won’t be long now.”
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Appendix — List of Characters and Places of Interest
Written by Raftor.eth https://twitter.com/raftorTSE2
Illustrated by BadTryp https://twitter.com/badtrypz
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