The Defense of Exeter Station, page 6
part #1 of Sandorn's Allegiance Series
“You’ve got good instincts,” Anderton nodded, “stay sharp.”
Gray smiled, returning the nod. “Any luck with the investigation?”
“We’ve found evidence of sabotage in nearly all our missile launchers as well, but nowhere near as bad as the docking ring. Our engineers are repairing them now, looks like any launches would’ve blown shuttle-sized holes in the superstructure.”
“Aye, I saw the crews diverted there. Why the docking ring and the launchers?”
“We’re still trying to figure that out, Mister Gray. Now if you’ll excuse me, it seems I have two-hundred new officers to vet and haze. What’s their status?” While not strictly a hazing, Anderton liked to give new crew a tough time until they settled in under her command. She thought her harsh-but-fair approach tended to quicken the crews bonds with existing officers.
“Right now all confined to quarters awaiting orders. You’ll find them all registered aboard, I’ve gotten all their records from central.”
“Thanks Mister Gray, now it’s your turn to get some rest!”
“Aye, Commander.” He nodded, then turned his attention to the management information table, tapping a few controls on his datapad to highlight the hundred missile launchers in a spectrum of colors standing out on the gray spinning holographic representation of the station. He’d previously configured the overlay to display a red sphere for each unchecked launcher, a yellow sphere for each launcher the repair crews were currently working on, and a green sphere for those that had been checked and were certified safe to use. From the center of the docking ring to the edge, the spheres gradated from green to red, as the repair crews worked their ways outwards.
Gray looked through the hologram again toward the rows of command stations opposite him, the management table sensed the change in focus and adjusted the translucency of the projection to allow him to see his staff working away.
As he stood scanning the room, he caught the eye of a young communications officer looking concerned. He walked around the desk to the young officer’s station. “You look troubled, Mister Jennings,” he started, “what do you hear?” A common expression to ask any communications officer, even if they spend their shift reading messages and not dealing with audio.
“Sir, we heard from a cruiser on patrol around an hour ago, said they were going to return here for resupply and rendezvous with the fleet, but they’re no longer responding to hails since entering warp.”
“You’re trying to let them know the fleet’s on their way to them and they don’t need to return to station?”
“Yes, sir, but they’re radio silent. I can still see them in warp, their trajectory is unchanged, they’re just not responding to us.” Jennings tapped a few keys on his control station that zoomed out an astrometric map centered on the Exeter system showing a long amber line stretching out from the center to an amber circle captioned ‘Scorpion’.
“Aye, I see.” Gray looked down at the screen for a few seconds. “What’s their arrival time?”
“Day after tomorrow, sir, oh-three-hundred, so about forty hours from now.” Gray glanced from the graphic to the corner of the monitor where the clock showed just after 11:00.
“Send them a message every hour on the hour, they may be struggling with malfunctioning equipment just the same as us, especially if they’re due a resupply, nothing to worry about for now.” He said reassuringly, though that bad feeling still sat unmoving in his stomach.
“Thank you, sir.” Gray smiled, tapped the raised edge of the workstation then turned back toward the management table. He raised his datapad up from his side and tapped a few buttons, then approached another officer’s station.
“Miss Lincoln, how’s our docking ring faring?”
“Sir, we’re nearly back to normal, another six hours or so.”
“And what’s the backlog like?” Asked Gray, referring to all the ships that had recently docked and were awaiting maintenance, resupply, and more.
“Twenty-six hours, sir, but as per your orders we’re yet to inform the crews of those ships. Escrow bots are working fine though, it’s just ship repairs and resupply that’s lagging by twenty-six hours, sir.”
“Thank you, Miss Lincoln. Please inform the crews of those ships in six hours as soon as everything’s BAU upstairs, I don’t want them causing a fuss until our crews are working on their ships and not our own station.” The return to normality would be more-than-welcome to Gray, business had been anything but usual in the last few days.
“Yes, sir, and those scheduled to leave in the next six hours that are waiting a service?”
“Anyone that’s staying longer than they want to because of this, free food and beds till we’re back on track.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thank you, Miss Lincoln, carry on.” Gray again tapped the raised edge of the workstation then walked back to the center of the room. ‘Looks like not much is going to happen in the next six hours or so’—he thought to himself—‘better take this time to rest-up’.
Gray projected his voice to the room: “Ops team, you have the floor. Anything urgent, message me. I’ll be back up in five hours.” The front row of staff had their attentions piqued, followed by some collective nodding, then two of the staff rising up from their seats to walk to the management information table. Gray made his way to the door, looking back briefly to make sure no one needed his attention, then made his way to his stateroom for a few hours of sleep.
∆∆∆
“So much nicer using real gym equipment,” Rosso said to Sandorn as they walked along the promenade of one of the amenity decks several hours later, “not that there’s anything wrong with what the Kadpass has to offer of course!” She added jokingly, drawing a comparison to the facilities they’d just used.
“If you’re referring to the premium luxury spa and health club equipment I installed in the mess last month, you’re right, absolutely nothing wrong with it!” Sandorn chuckled, earning a smile from Rosso.
“And here I was referring to it as a chin-up bar!”
He pulled out his datapad to check on the Kadpass’ repair status, expecting it to be nearly completed. The estimate had fifteen hours remaining—the same duration he’d been given when they first docked last night—‘that’s not right’—he thought as he checked more details. A message was waiting for him, timestamped just a few minutes ago:
“To the directors of all vessels currently docked at Exeter Station: Due to unforeseen technical issues, repairs and resupply is currently behind by twenty-six hours. If you are affected by this, additional food, drink, and accommodation will be provided to you free-of-charge.
“Kadpass, Beluga Class Hauler, Registration B6742101.
“Director and Owner: Tanic Sandorn.
“You have been identified as being delayed by the above situation, please be advised all of your pre-booked rooms are paid for an additional twenty-six hours, and each member of your crew has been allocated an allowance for meals according to the schedule provided upon docking.
“We apologize for any inconvenience.”
Sandorn scanned down the document, sighing through his nose as Rosso put her hand on his arm. There were a set of file attachments at the bottom of the message just above a confirm and agree check, which would forward the details onto the rest of the crew. He tapped the confirmation then looked up at Rosso. “Looks like we’ll be here an extra day,” he said dejectedly, “technical issues, whatever that means.” He wanted to blame the plasma-monkeys, as Durand would call them.
Rosso’s face turned slightly from curiosity to concern. “Anything to do with the call this morning?”
The pit in his stomach said yes, but he swallowed his worries. “I doubt it.” Rosso’s datapad chimed with Sandorn’s forward. “We’re safe at this station, and worst-case, we can take a shuttle out of here and have someone bring the Kadpass back to us. I’ll keep us safe, don’t worry.”
Rosso had no doubt he’d keep them safe, but didn’t believe they were entirely safe in the Exeter system. Nevertheless, she pretended as though her concerns were abated.
“Right, well if we don’t have to be up in the morning then, I guess drinks are on you tonight!”
“Dinner and drinks, sure, and how come I always pay?”
“I’ll pay when you give me a raise!” Rosso grinned. Sandorn wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her along.
“Come on, let’s get something to eat.”
The pair found themselves sat by a viewport at Sandorn’s new favorite noodle bar, the same seats they’d been in the previous night. Rosso sat lost in thought, staring out of the viewport up at the lights of the civilian ships coming and going, gently stirring her noodles with the chopsticks in her right hand. Sandorn watched her for a couple of minutes before disturbing the silence.
“You okay there, Ami?”
“Oh, yeah. Just looking at the ships. Why were the navy ships called out this morning you think?” She asked, still staring out into space.
“I guess reinforcing Alliance presence in the fringe systems. If there’s a fight, it won’t be here, stop worrying yourself.”
“I don’t think it’s worry… I just can’t get my mind off it,” she turned to face him, still fiddling with her noodles, “how come you left the navy anyways?”
“After Solitari?” He said rhetorically, in mild disbelief that she hadn’t realized his great loss there was what prompted his retirement.
“You said you were a Lieutenant during that, but you left as a Commander. I assumed there was something in-between?”
“I never told you?” He asked, to which Rosso shook her head. “Oh, right. When we got back to HQ, they bumped me up to Commander, awarded me a medal for bravery, and put me on leave for a month. I resigned the day I got back.” He downplayed the promotion.
“So you were a Commander for the grand total of a single day?” Rosso asked after a short silence with a sly smile to lighten the mood.
“That’s, uh…” Sandorn started, “yeah, I guess you’re right,” he continued, smiling slightly while shaking his head. “I was still torn-up over the whole thing and sent them the medal back with a letter saying in no uncertain terms that I didn’t deserve it, I didn’t save a hundred people, I killed three-hundred.” He paused for a moment, looking out of the viewport to the same ships Rosso was lost in before. “I fell into a depression. Lerin—Commander of the Datsu—helped me out of it. If it weren’t for him, I’d probably still be planetside, wallowing in my own self-pity.” The late bar nights with his old friend, the long conversations, the pride Lerin had in him. He smiled and nodded, turning his attention back to Rosso. “I owe a lot to that man.”
“Well I hope I get to meet—and thank him—one day.” Rosso smiled, tilting her head.
“I’d like that.” He appreciated her support. “I spent about six months planetside, had a big falling out with my sister over the whole thing, then yeah, met you.” Sandorn shook his head gently.
“Sister? I didn’t know you had a sister?”
“Yeah, Felysta. She’s Fleet, too. Wasn’t happy I made Commander so quickly and ‘easily’ after her and didn’t agree with me resigning my position.” He took a sip of his drink before continuing. “Haven’t spoken to her since, to be honest. She left on assignment while I was sorting the Kadpass out on Hasiera Station.” He relaxed his posture.
Rosso picked up her glass and raised a toast: “To our history.”
Sandorn raised his glass: “To our future.” He corrected Rosso with a smile which she returned as they both drank.
∆∆∆
The deck was eerily quiet as they left the noodle bar. All the eateries seemed deserted. An apprehensive feeling washed over the pair as they walked the promenade. They still stuck to their plan of dinner and drinks, though, moving toward one of the bars. However, as they turned the corner, every bar was crammed full of people glued to the numerous viewscreens. They gave each other a bewildered look then quickened their pace to the nearest one, edging into the crowd to get a good view. A clip cycled as an older female newsreader stood in front of a plain gray backdrop with a sombre expression, reading clearly and carefully from a script.
“We’ll play statements from both Hylar Sorr, First Minister of the Combined Systems Alliance, and Ormund Colwill, self-appointed President of the Free Planetary Union shortly. Our current headline: The CSA and FPU are, regrettably, now at war. Over the past twenty-four hours a wave of co-ordinated and deadly surprise attacks were carried out by the FPU across the border of the fringe systems, which have now nearly all declared allegiance to this Free Planetary Union. Initial reports suggest casualties of anywhere between two and six-hundred thousand Fleet personnel. In addition to this, we have had reports of hundreds of terrorist attacks on many stations and planets across the border, with an estimated casualty count of three to nine thousand civilians.
“All citizens of the CSA are advised to avoid travel to any border systems if possible, and a full travel ban is in effect to any fringe systems. Any ships detected traveling between CSA controlled territory and FPU claimed territory without express authorization from the CSA navy will be classed as a hostile movement and treated as such. All reserve Fleet personnel are hereby called to active duty, and Fleet HQ are currently undergoing a review of retired and discharged Fleet personnel who may also be recalled to active duty. If you class as a Fleet reservist or have previously served the CSA navy, you are requested to remain at your current location and await further instruction.”
Sandorn and Rosso looked to one-another, knowing who was directly affected by that order.
“We will now replay a statement by Hylar Sorr, First Minister of the Combined Systems Alliance.”
The image of the newsreader disappeared and was replaced by an image of the First Minister stood behind a wooden lectern in a grand stateroom. The image was framed with luxurious navy-blue curtains and the Alliance crest behind her on a marble plinth. The crest consisted of a floating concave white kite in the middle—a basic fleet ship icon symbolizing a central strength—cutting into two concentric circles, each side of the symbol was flanked closely by a pair of hands holding the icons together in harmony. The crest was underlined with the caption ‘Combined Systems Alliance’, all on a navy blue background completing the flag. Hylar Sorr stood at the lectern, her hands gripping each side as she spoke directly into the camera.
“Today, the third day of September twenty-eight-fifteen, our great and peaceful Alliance was suddenly attacked by Fleet assets originating from the fringe systems, identifying themselves as members of the Free Planetary Union. In addition to this, a large number of terrorist attacks have occurred within our borders, targeting civilians for which the FPU has also claimed credit.
“As of today, we find ourselves in a state of war.
“My cabinet and I have, for over half a year, pursued many avenues of diplomacy in the hopes of maintaining a peaceful relationship with the fringe systems, however it is now evident that all paths we followed have failed.
“I have the utmost confidence in our navy and all of our brave enlisted men and women. To ensure they have all the support they need, I am hereby calling all reserve personnel to active service. We are also reviewing many cases of retired and discharged personnel to rejoin the navy.
“I regret to inform you that many lives have already been lost, however I ask you to now stand strong and united in this tumultuous time. I know that as citizens of the Combined Systems Alliance, you will all face these hostilities with courage and determination, and though there may be dark days ahead, we will achieve absolute victory.
“Thank you.”
Hylarr Sorr disappeared from the viewscreen and the newsreader took her place.
“We will now replay a statement by Ormund Colwill, self-appointed President of the Free Planetary Union.”
A large man dominated the screen. Without the theatrics of Sorr, Colwill simply sat at a desk with a large window behind him, looking out onto a cityscape. The desk was a basic alloy with a gray plastic veneer that lacked the notability of the carved wooden lectern Sorr had just stood in front of. The background was indistinguishable from any city. It was raining on the other side of the window, and there was no crest or flag to be seen.
“Dear friends, for many years we have suffered under a regime that does not represent our people. Across many months we have deeply considered the relationship we have with those who refer to their homes as ‘core systems’, and ours as the ‘fringe’ of lesser repute. The leaders of the alliance have perpetually lied about our involvement in the government and they refuse to grant us the representation to which we are entitled.
“My brothers and sisters, today we take the first steps toward building a more free and fair society. No longer will our beautiful and productive home planets be dismissed as mere ‘fringe worlds’. Instead, we will build a strong and prosperous future away from those whom which we have long grown apart.
“For decades, the alliance has lauded over us an iron fist of suppressive rule, but we are not a pack of slaves they can bend to their every whim. We are humans!
“The alliance will continue to broadcast propaganda, insulting our way of life and our very existence, but we will not falter, for we are fighting for justice. Not just for ourselves, but for our children.
“We stand united now under one simple cause: independence.
“Friends. We stand together. To the creation of our Free Planetary Union. We will prevail.”
The newsreader reappeared on-screen a second time.
“We will continue to broadcast any new information through the subspace network as we hear about it, please be advised that civilian casualty lists are available across the CSA network, however military casualty lists and naval engagement details will be unavailable due to active Fleet operations.”
The newsreader went on to describe some of the more horrific terrorist activities across various border systems, paying particular attention to the destruction of a station in the Paris system, killing over thirty thousand civilians. Dozens of people stood gawking at the viewscreen, some left as the leader statements had been read, and others murmured quietly to each other. The area was full of tense, troubled faces.
