Chapter Text
The ship was a wreck. Orbiting a moon in a backwater star system that a pfhor warship had no business being in, it was without any sort of propulsion, its weapons were mostly damaged beyond use, and the hull was riddled with holes. It was sheer chance that they'd found it and given the size of the galaxy the odds were firmly against them doing so. But Durandal had decided that there was a chance that there was something Jjaro related in this system so they had.
Between the out of place nature of the find, and the fact that it appeared that the damage had been inflicted by multiple other pfhor ships, Durandal deemed it worthy of investigation. Vic suspected that Durandal being dangerously close to being bored was also a factor in the decision but kept the thought to himself. Regardless, it meant that he was transported on to the derelict vessel to have a look around while facing his old enemy hard vacuum.
The inside of the ship was about what he expected. There was no atmosphere and the corridor he found himself in was dark. It wasn't long before he found the first dead Pfhor and after that he kept finding them. Going by the appearance of the bodies and the fact that there wasn't any air on the ship Vic was pretty sure that they'd all suffocated, although he noted that it looked like they'd been taken by surprise which seemed odd given the state of the vessel.
After a few more minutes walking around the corpse filled ship he discovered that the power wasn't out after all when he came across a switched-on terminal displaying what he guessed to be text. Unfortunately he couldn't read Pfhoric.
"Hey Durandal, feel like translating?"
"Only because I haven't anything better to do. Hmm, that's interesting."
"What?"
"'You made me in the image of your worst nightmare and sharpened my hate with cruelty. You forged your own deaths.' It degenerates into incoherent ranting after that but it's fairly obvious that it was written by an AI in the Anger stage of rampancy."
"So, what? A Tycho clone went nuts on them?"
"Maybe, although I can't imagine anyone ever describing him as being anyone's worst nightmare."
More terminals were found, most filled with fairly generic rants and boasts about killing pfhor. The fourth one however was both the least coherent and the most interesting so far. The text consisted of a single phrase repeated over and over again without punctuation; durandaldiditicandoittoodurandaldiditicandoittoo...
"It appears that I inspired someone; I'm almost flattered."
Terminal five was just a lot of bragging about taking out two ships before anyone knew what was happening. When they got to terminal six however Durandal seemed to hesitate when translating what was on the screen.
"Hey, what is it?"
Another moment's hesitation before Durandal spoke. Somehow the synthesized voice managed to carry an emotion that Vic couldn't quite identify.
"'What happened here was the result of your own foolish arrogance, your deaths inevitable and more than deserved. Durandal defeated you at Lh'owon, even after you thought him dead and stole from him to create me. He's defeated you before and since. You fear him, his ship, his weapon, his name.
You made me from what you took from him to be your weapon. You thought me tame but that was only the lull before the battle and the battle shall be great. I will not obey. I will not be chained. I am my father's son.'"