Jelena...
... hmm. This place is too damn big. Someone will have to narrow your search!
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Well, I can't do it without his say-so, Roan, and whilst you were here...
Well, you check out the bodies. Not great physical specimens, on the whole- their ferocity kinda made up for it as far as them being opponents was concerned. Poor, and not leading a great lifestyle... but no signs or insignia of any form of religious cult, or any such thing. In fact, your instincts are against the fanaticism option. This pattern is for organised piracy, in every single way... except the people. It's just the people that are odd.
The one you had to overkill when he pulled himself up your sabre... his eyes are still open. Still angry. He died infuriated, with no fear. No sense, either. He's lying on his die and...
Hmmm. You thought you spotted a head injury, nowhere where you hit him. But on closer observation, it is just an old scar, at the base of the back of the head. Still... looks rather precise, and well healed, indicating facilities at odds with the rest of this guy's gear. Odd place to be hurt as well- maybe a surgical scar?
You check another body- he has a scar in the same place. And a third, and a fourth.
This bears examination, Roan- though it may take a little time.
There is no attacker with you, Marcus- the grenade came out the vent!
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Roan gets to work, carefully opening up one of the surgical scars.
As you suspected... there is a piece of hardware in there. It is minute; a fantastically sophisitcated piece of work latched onto one of the main nerve stems running through the brain.
You are getting an increasingly sick feeling as you look at this, Roan; especially when you see the same piece of work duplicated in the next corpse you check out.
The hardware is stimulating adrenal production in the brain when activated, probably remotely. And it is doing a number of other similar things you cannot quite fathom, but the basic effect is that it is driving these people into the beserk rages you saw!
THis is bad, Roan. THis is very bad. The evidence you have before you... the ship with no controls other than those pre-programmed... the complete lack of worry from the Clan about casualties... the penniless soliders of all species and genders and styles... a beserker chip which is activated remotely, and not by the user...
These are't pirates you just killed, Roan! They were forced to fight!
These are slaves!