Story 9: Apex Predator
2135, Milky Way, Union Star System, Chira Station
In many ways, Alexander Braun was an exemplary soldier. He was disciplined, he obeyed orders, he more than surpassed the skill requirents of his position, and on top of everything else, he was in it for the long haul. A career military man, through and through.
Yet, looking at him, one might think the whole affair was a bad joke. Because what kind of soldier ran around sporting a pair of cat ears?
Cat beastkin were ludicrously lethal, combining the sheer killing power of the animal that had sotis been referred to as a “living natural disaster” with the apex predator who’d conquered the entire planet … well, you got sothing far greater than the sum of its parts. Even if he still looked sowhat ridiculous even to his own sensibilities, all these decades later.
Which was why he used his ability to control his appearance to almost instantaneously grow his hair out so long that the ears got lost among a ss of black curls when ho … though the style was in flagrant violation of uniform regulations, which was why he had to shave it when on deploynt.
Sothing that, unfortunately, included his current task of babysitting.
Willhelm Ziegler was, in all respects, a standard, run-of-the-mill, “diplomat.” Not the kind of person who’d arrange for ceasefires, clean up major diplomatic incidents or otherwise get involved in anything with grand implications, but he was a reasonably competent emissary … or at least Braun hoped he was, because in the current situation, the only thing Ziegler was doing was proving just how good he was at talking himself into trouble.
Why the man had needed an S-rank bodyguard for a fairly standard mission to a fairly generic multi-species space station was beyond him, but it was pretty obvious that sothing about it had outright switched off the man’s common sense.
“… But did you know that cats are among so of the most deadly hunters on our world? I know they look cute and fluffy, but that’s only because they’re normally so much smaller than us …”
Because that dumbass was apparently terrified of “looking bad” because his bodyguard was part cat, and was now expounding the sheer lethality of said bodyguard to a Koinian official who was growing less and less amused at the situation with every passing second, irritation slowly becoming replaced by outright fear.
It wasn’t like Ziegler was wrong, per se, cats were dangerous as hell. Big cats like lions tigers, jaguars and so on, they might have been very much like regular housecats if you could train them up (biiiig if), as demonstrated by hundreds of youtube videos … yet there were also hundreds of injuries and deaths every year when the big kitty wouldn’t cooperate, or at least there had been, prior to the [System].
But that wasn’t the bloody point here.
And why was this even an issue?
In general, cat people didn’t really have any negative stigmas associated with them anymore; they now existed for real, and they were nothing like what ani had portrayed.
It seed like certain mbers of the older generation not only hadn’t gotten the mo, but Ziegler was also far more embarrassed about the situation than Braun had ever been.
He felt his ears flatten against the top of his head, a clear sign of displeasure. That was the only drawback of his race that existed separate from cliches and stigma.
It had cost him his poker face.
Braun might not wear his emotions on his sleeve; he wore them on top of his head in the form of two fuzzy little triangular mood rings that he hadn’t been able to get under control no matter what he did. And he’d been trying for over a century.
The alien didn’t know what his current “expression” ant, though, and the diplomatic fop wasn’t looking at Braun and therefore didn’t realize sothing was wrong.
There were oh so many more productive things he could be doing with his ti. For example, he could finally finish On War, or at least take a decent crack at doing so. That book was good, informative, but also about very high-level strategy, not the kinds of small-unit tactics that Braun himself used almost exclusively.
But he’d read plenty of books to improve his knowledge base; that wasn’t the problem. No, the issue was that On War was absolutely titanic, heavy enough to brain soone in the pre-[System] tis, and thicker than the vast majority of other books he had and would read by an entire order of magnitude.
There were truly far better ways to spend his ti than sitting in this office. Like grinding away at his list of “required literature.” Even that might not necessarily have been the optimal way to spend the afternoon, granted, but just about anything was better than the current ss.
When sirens began to howl a couple of minutes later, he was almost relieved.
“Pirate attack,” the Koinian official said, addressing Ziegler. “Would you be willing to have your bodyguard contribute to the defense?”
“If you’ll let , I’ll take care of it,” Braun sighed, looking directly at the alien. “Or who should I subordinate myself under?”
Ziegler’s awkwardness certainly had had one good consequence, and that being that after a brief mont of silence, the Koinian told him to do “whatever he felt capable of.”
Apparently, the pirate had already sent out a ssage making abundantly clear their intentions, and posed enough of a problem to actually endanger the station despite its formidable defenses.
In fact, Braun was keenly aware of the subtle thrumming and vibrations in the distance as the hull-mounted weapons of Chira Station were firing.
An imnse explosion suddenly shook the deck, followed by a tallic tearing noise that he really didn’t like the sound of. He picked up the pace while using [Cog in the Machine] to insert himself into the local command and control network, whether they wanted him in there or not.
They wanted him, very much so.
So, for once, instead of infiltrating enemy “cyber” defenses, he used this ability to link into the local network and work with the security forces. Or rather, he would have done so, had it not been utterly superfluous. He’d have to take care of things himself.
After all, this was a neutral trade station, having too heavy defenses present that could be taken over was a risk, as was heavy warship presence, or the permanent stationing of S-Rankers and alien equivalents. Hell, even Braun wasn’t supposed to have been here; he’d simply been yanked here by that idiot Ziegler. Although in the end, that man would likely wind up taking credit for everything Braun would now achieve, willfully unaware of the fact that he was far more replaceable than an S-Ranker, and the things Braun would have to say about him would be withering.
In other words, attacking the station, which had a whole lot of incredibly valuable goods flowing through it at any given ti during an occasion when there weren’t ant to be any absurdly powerful individuals present … not the dumbest idea, especially considering how much power was being brought to bear.
Because they had brought an Annihilator.
That was … a choice, certainly.
An Assai warship category, a six-kiloter-long behemoth with an absurdly overpowered spinally mounted energy weapon guided by spatial magic that could, in theory, burn away a squadron of human battleships the sa way a blowtorch obliterated a swarm of gnats.
But it wasn’t as though these things had all been retired after the very first known inter-species clash without reason.
For their part, humanity’s biggest takeaway from the whole affair had been to stare at the magic-guided energy weapons, facepalm, and bitch about not having co up with the concept on its own. Because in hindsight, it really had been that obvious. And then, they’d implented the ss aboard their own battleships, the spinal weaponry of post-contact capital ships being the most powerful single energy weapons humanity had ever placed upon a mobile platform.
Previously, such a thing hadn’t been considered as using such weaponry required aligning the entire vessel to aim, which was sowhat tricky when the vessel in question was aneight and a half million ton capital ship. But spatial magic had been a forehead-slappingly simple solution to the problem that had rapidly been implented.
The Assai, on the other hand?
They’d had to rethink their entire tactical doctrine.
Because people with superpowers didn’t just exist, they could also reach the point where they could shatter the largest realistically buildable warship in an instant. Usually by way of a cooldown [Skill] or other thod that could not be rapid-fired.
So why not blow the biggest bastard out there to kingdom co with your opening salvo?
And an Assai Annihilator was the epito of “big bastard,” well over a hundred tis the volu of the largest human vessel. Powerful, yes, but in the end, in any realistic matchup, it would wind up only benefiting scrap collectors. That had been the human design philosophy that the Assai had wholeheartedly agreed with when they’d been confronted with the whole picture.
Most of the gigantic warships had been broken up for scrap, but at least one had apparently been “repurposed.” Though there was still a big leap from the most powerful warships in the known galaxy being retired to said warship winding up in the hands of pirates.
In other words, there was obviously a hell of a lot more at play than simple piracy, but that was an issue for soone else to deal with. He’d resolve the situation, make sure to keep computers intact and people for interrogation alive, but everything else thankfully wasn’t his business.
He just had to deal with the titanic warship outside.
Now, if Braun had been a mage or even a different kind of warrior, then this would have been where it ended, as he vaporized the ship in an instant. But he specialized in fighting people; that was what all his countless [Skills] were focused on. No, this would have to be a boarding action.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
He did one more scan of the situation via the party while he continued to run towards the outermost ring of the station. Things were … well, they were pretty much exactly what you’d expect from the current situation.
Chira Station had been built as a eting place between species, and that had been a major design principle. No heavy weaponry that might be taken over and turned onto alien vessels, for one, but the station was also heavily armored beyond what even most military stations had, to ensure that the expected interspecies clashes between individuals didn’t threaten the structural integrity of the whole affair. Of course, the armor had also been hidden as best as possible to make things look less foreboding, and the exterior walls had been alchemically treated to be as clear as glass, but it was there.
Or rather, it had been there.
Whoever was in charge of that damn Annihilator had clearly dialed down the power behind the main gun, but even then, a good third of the outermost ring of the station had been burned off along with the point defense weaponry that had been mounted there, and thanks to the analysis [Skills] feeding into the network, it was abundantly obvious that the next shot was being charged already, while the six “lesser” weapons that surrounded it, each still stronger than the spinal weaponry of a human battleship or the modern Assai equivalent, were simply waiting on a worthy target to present itself.
A handful of missiles were launched from an ard rchant ship who’d apparently taken the idea of “weak armant for the purpose of self-defense” not just to but past the logical extre.
Three of the heavy weapons fired, vast overkill that vaporized the eight-hundred-ter-long vessel outright.
This ti, Braun was able to directly hear the ssage that was broadcast imdiately afterwards.
“Look, this is really simple. You’re fucked, and the only way to change that is to pay us to go away. We don’t accept used missiles, by the way, you gotta keep those in the original packaging for them to be worth anything.”
And as that ssage was sent out, the salvo fired by the rchant with more bravado than sense was contemptuously swatted away by the Annihilator’s point defense. Its role might have been “artillery support,” but warships in general tended to have a significant amount of point defense regardless.
Okay, how the fuck had those people gotten their hands on a warship like that? Seriously, those guys? Were they just acting ridiculous, or had soone really just given them a freaking Annihilator, pointed them at Chira, and simply prayed they wouldn’t overload the reactor on the way there, or die in so other, equally stupid, way?
Part of him hoped that in a couple of hours, a ssage from Earth would co in, about how the Ghost had uncovered a vast conspiracy and solved it all in an afternoon, but while it did occasionally feel like everything got fixed randomly by seemingly omniscient vigilantes, this was real life. Those flighty jackasses had their own pet projects, tearing apart so of the more public problems and leaving the rest to the professionals.
But, once again, it was soone else’s problem.
Braun reached an ergency blast door, locked down, with the indicator beside it indicating hard vacuum on the other side. He phased, running straight through it and healing the damage the magically reinforced tal tore through his body in an instant.
The concourse outside had been first half-lted by the enemy energy blast, then ripped open as the air rushed out, heat-weakened tal tearing like tissue paper before the gales, burned and/or shredded corpses scattered nearby, while further out, floating debris indicated that the artificial gravity had failed there.
And beyond it all, he got his first good, direct, look at the Annihilator. Right up until that mont, there’d been that tiny spark of hope, that idea of how maybe, just maybe, the warship out there was so kind of shell ga, sothing that wasn’t the wandering calamity that a pirate Annihilator was.
But no, it was there, right there, clear as day, seen with eyes that could pierce most illusions, and even when they were fooled, spot the inconsistencies that gave the ga away.
Cursing internally, Braun charged, flashing across the concourse until he found himself launched out into the void, gravity having long since lost its hold on him, so he triggered [Wild Hunt], mana flowing out of him to allow him to run across the sky with casual ease. He banked up briefly, ensuring that when the vessel inevitably went after him and he dodged, the beam would not continue to strike the station.
Because with the trail of mist he was leaving behind, bursting forth with every step he took, there was no way on Earth they weren’t going to see him.
The station fell away behind him, becoming ever tinier while the warship lood large ahead, energy weapons flaring to life.
Braun’s eyes, having beco slitted like a cat’s as he dropped the “civilized” guise that kept his more predatory aspects hidden from view, claws like steak knives protruding from his fingers, while his tail once more made keeping his balance a piece of cake.
The Annihilator fired, a ray of energy that could reduce a battleship to stardust in an instant, but between a maxed-out [Feline Reflexes] [Skill] that had grown into outright precognition and the ridiculously nad [Cosmic Whiskers] that granted him preternatural awareness of his surroundings, dodging was easy as pie.
It didn’t matter how powerful this beam was if it didn’t hit; “proximity hits” barely even existed in outer space, and that went doubly for everything that wasn’t a nuclear warhead.
In other words, there was nothing the pirates could possibly do to keep him away.
As he got closer, [Skills] were starting to co into play, spheres of energy appearing where he would have been if he hadn’t anticipated the move, turrets managing to track him despite his precognition, entire areas being locked down in a way that might have even been a slight impedint if he’d actually run into them … and then Braun at the hull, raking his right hand across the tal.
[Rend] triggered and crimson lines were left behind in the tal as his claws tore through it as though it were tissue paper, but when his claws left the hull again, the crimson lines kept going, spreading out and gaining in power until a five hundred ter long gash had been torn into the side of the annhilator.
Hundreds of people went flying out through the hull breach, sucked away as the atmosphere fled, so alive, so torn to pieces. But quite a few had also managed to remain standing, locking themselves down onto the deck with [Skills] or enchanted footwear.
Braun slowed down over the last few ters until he ca to a stop at the edge of the largest exposed room, where he glared at those left within.
Fundantally, the core power of the Cat Beastkin race was the fact that they combined the strengths of both humans and felines, making them very good at places where their advantages overlapped. Hunting and killing were chief among those, however, a less obvious ability was a highly evocative body language.
As such Braun’s death glare did such a good job of transmitting the promise of “I’ve already decided I’m going to kill you, you’re not going to see when I do, and no one will ever find the bodies” that it transcended species boundaries, and kicking off the simple task of breaking the enemy’s morale.
All it had taken was a single look, and the pirates began to quail, composure breaking, feet shuffling nervously, skin going pale or blue or whatever else their particular species did to show nervousness.
“If you run, I’ll kill you,” Braun called out jovially, [Unrestricted Speech] carrying his voice even across the vacuum of space.
“If you fight, I’ll kill you.
“If you’ve ever committed or abetted an act of piracy, ever, I’ll kill you.
“But, if one of you has a surrender [Skill], you know, one that discharges your mana and deactivates your offensive abilities … well, you have ten seconds.”
He could only hear about half the surrenders, but it was always obvious who had done so. And therefore, so was he who hadn’t.
One man hefted a shotgun looking weapon that spewed forth at least twice its apparent mass in flechettes that imdiately bore down on Braun, apparently equipped with seeking properties … but he swept them out of the way with [Ballicstic Shield] before launching himself forward, a single slash of his left hand leaving the pirate splattering across the deck in pieces.
That resulted in several more people using a “believable surrender” [Skill]. Normally, he found those things annoying, the adult equivalent of a kindergartener calling a “ti out” in the middle of a ga of tag, except in the context of being pirate scum that suddenly tried to escape the consequencse.
But he supposed that if you’re going to decide to pursue a carreer in piracy rather than any of the near-infinite supply of legitimate jobs available nowadays, chances were you’d be too stupid to pick the one [Skill] that might save your ass when the chickens ca ho to roost.
Half a dozen more pirates wound up torn to shreds before he advanced deeper into the building.
It was when he rounded the next corner that he got his very first surprise of the entire boarding action as he ca face to face with a thing, wiry, grey-skinned alien wreathed in a halo of toxic purple light.
A Dromon, only the ninth he’d seen, ever.
The most technologically primitive of the known races, only found a single planet, and functionally trapped there. Because unlike literally all others, the Dromon had a fluorine-based tabolism and there was literally only a single world that could provide what they needed to live, not to ntion that that sa property made them incredibly lethal to all other known forms of complex life, and most microbes as well, assuming they had the Aspects and [Skills] needed to survive off their howorld.
They didn’t have a natural affinity for poisons or the like, but they nevertheless had an easy ti getting a strong [Class] in that vein by just walking around on a foreign planet for a few days, perhaps while fighting monsters from soone else’s summoning catalog because that changed the context of their biology and existence.
If they could survive an environnt that was as toxic to them as they were to it.
In other words, this particular fella was dangerous.
Letting out a startled hiss despite himself, Braun leaped back, breaking line of sight while simultaneously avoiding a beam of liquid that imdiately began eating into the wall of the corridor.
Acid too … nah wunderbar.
Braun slamd his [Arcane Shatter] [Skill] into the air around him, tearing apart every magical effect in his surroundings, [Auras] included. And then he swept his hand through the air before him, five projected blades slashing the living toxin-factory to pieces.
[Far Strike] might have been one of the few [Skills] that beca utterly useless as one leveled, but there were a handful of ways to let it be utilized in so small way. One of those was punching everyone present in the [Aura].
Another [Rend] then tore open his path far deeper in, a careful planning of the trajectories ensuring that he wouldn’t accidentally ding the reactor and blowing himself to pieces, and then, he charged towards the bridge.
Predictably, everyone in the area had gathered to stand against him. How polite of them to spare him the effort of chasing them all down. Once again, he slowed down a little to make an offer he had to give, for the sake of protocol and intel.
“So, you’re not going to win this. If you think you haven’t done anything too bad yet, surrender. But if you want to save the courts the effort of having you executed …” Braun spread his arms invitingly, [Feline Cleanliness] making the blood he’d let land on his arms previously fly off, leaving him pristine once more. “… then, by all ans, go ahead. Try and get past .”
They tried. They died.
If they’d managed to capitalize on him slowing down a little to make the offer, they might even have managed to hurt him, but he’d already been dodging when they opened fire.
Magic Missiles and fireballs and curses … in the end, the only thing that hit him were splatters of blood.
“[FIGHT ]!” a burly Assai in a stupidly ornate uniform bellowed, but Braun shrugged off the taunt. [Feline Superiority] let him ignore all that sort of nonsense. He did what he chose to, and nothing else. He’d chosen to beco a soldier, he hadn’t chosen to play the ga of pirate scum.
But in the end, the man was still standing, glaring at him across a sea of corpses. Granted, the alien was in the middle of the 5th Evolution, but that was still nowhere near where he was.
So in the end, he decided to attack.
Braun hurled himself out of a massive shockwave sent out from his foe’s shield, ducked under so kind of bola-thing as it rocketed at his head, then finally leaped up and ran along the ceiling as the Assai finally activated one of his strongest [Skills], so kind of giant transformation combined with an energy field that sank into the floor.
And then, he was close enough, hurling himself at the alien’s chest and smashing his right arm straight through its chest right in the spot where [Weakness Exploit] told him was the best place for that. Planting his feet against the carapace, he kicked off and launched himself backwards, a heart clutched in his hands.
It looked cruel and unnecessary.
It was cruel, but as for necessity … he could imdiately tell that the Assai had an absolutely ridiculous number of defensive [Skills], many of which would have let him keep going without a heart or, at the very least, go without long enough to regenerate the organ.
There were [Skills] out there that allowed their holder to keep going in defiance of all laws of God and nature.
But there were also [Skills] that countered those. Such as Braun’s own [Glory Kill]. The na was ridiculous, but it worked damn well. If he could remove the heart, that was absolute, involably, lethal.
Which just left him there to monkey with the blood-slicked consoles a bit, shutting down as many systems as he could, readying the vessel for takeover via station security.
That was that.
Klappe zu, Affe tot.
But the end result of the attack had been rather predictable. After all, those had been a bunch of pirates unwilling to take advantage of the opportunities the [System] provided against a 5th Evolution [Apex Predator]. The very definition of a foregone conclusion.
***
And from that day onwards, no cats were allowed on any ship or station that was not owned and operated by humans.
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