Technically, Coins Are Cylinders pt 2
02 Oct 2022User319792
Imperial Senator Bluecrash had an escort detail of four Imperial guards posted in four-hour rotations. The silence between them matched that between myself, Orion, and the man in the black suit as we sat, imprisoned by the Imperial Senator. It had been four days since Novus Ordo Siderum was boarded by the Imperial Senator and her entourage, who’d relieved me of my command and the vessel herself. The constant churning at the base of my skull, a rock tumbler like the one’s my parents sold at their shop on Cubeo before mom’s illness, hadn’t subsided. It simply continued, a searing and unfaltering drone at the upper harmonics of a root singing out from the bulkheads as the Imperial Senator spoke.“As guests of Her Royal Highness, Princess Aisling of House Duval,” the Imperial Senator intoned as we were shuttled, hands and legs bound, seated on the same hydraulic lifts used at the Imperial Senator’s gallery opening on Emerald, “you’ll require constant supervision. Surely you can excuse the Princess for such stringent security protocols, for such honored guests as yourselves. Your presence at my art opening had not gone unnoticed by the Princess and her staff. You have made quite the impression on the people of your home.”
As we walked through NOS’ hull, the Imperial Senator and the woman she called Elder Four recounted the whole of our efforts in Imperial space over the previous year, for which Princess Aisling had chosen to bestow us such honors:
“Physically Striking a member of the Imperial Diplomatic Corps.”
“Assault on a vessel sworn to Princess Aisling’s Guardians”
“Repeatedly spreading seditious ideas demeaning to Her Empire, The Emperor Arissa Lavigny-Duval, and other high-ranking Imperial officials, Admiral of the Fleet Denton Patreus not the least of which.”
“Violating sanctions barring Imperial Navy activities”
“Overriding Imperial contract conditions without seeking approval of Imperial authorities on repeated occasions”
“Conducting an unauthorized operation in Imperial governed-space without Imperial Science Academy approval”
“Conducting illegal piracy missions in Imperial governed territory without submitting to appropriate authorities”
“The murder of an agent of Her Empire’s Imperial security”
“The murders of 17 non-pilot’s federation civilians in Liabeze”
“The attack on an Imperial governed detention center and aiding in the escape of a prisoner"
“Finally,” The Imperial Senator concluded, “while The Pilot’s Federation, and their Elite Pilot’s guild in particular, have been relatively free to pursue their own interests free from the honorable consideration of Her Empire and The Empire on the whole, there are matters pertaining to Novus Ordo Siderum activities in Cubeo,” The Imperial Senator paused mid-stride. Her foot hung, her knee bent slightly, and she turned her head to the left to look closely at the man in the black suit. His eyes met her right-eye immediately, her left slowly coming to rest like the closing of a door. “Those matters, as I’d previously noted, were of great interest to me, as a woman of science, in the immediate aftermath of the threat-to-life of our great Empire. I’ve discussed the matter, my own, and the concerns of Her Empire with Princess Aisling, and we’ve come to agree” The Imperial Senator turned her head away from the man in the black suit, her foot gently touching the deck of Novus Ordo SIderum’s lower level before pivoting toward an empty compartment, “that Novus Ordo SIderum is an exquisite gesture of appreciation for Her Empire’s generosity and the glory of the Empire.”
With that, the Imperial Senator’s escort closed ranks behind us, their Manticore Intimidator’s poised at our backs, and we entered the compartment. It’s hatch was sealed and the Imperial Senator, Elder Four, and the majority of the Imperial Senator’s escort departing from the view available to us through the compartment’s porthole. In the four days since, we three spoke little. Orion’s normally genial expression had been replaced with a look of passive resignation, his eyes tracking from one corner of the room down to the opposite corner as he considered Coral’s condition. The man in the black suit sat alone on one of the upper bunks, his eyes toward the ground, and laughed to himself every so often before glancing at each of us. When our eyes would meet, he’d shrug, with a slight smile on his face, his shoulders rocking up and down. We’d been provided standard meals from NOS’ mess at the appropriate times and been allotted brief periods of time outside the compartment for cleaning and exercise, flanked on all sides by additional detachments from the Imperial Senator’s escort. Prior to departing, Captain Mclean was permitted an audience during one of my recreational periods, at which point I was informed that NOS’ crew, to a person, had been relieved of their duties and had been forgiven permission to seek reassignment on Ehlanda, on which our own release was contingent. She saluted me a final time before departing, her eyes widening and her posture stiffening as the Imperial Senator’s escort approached, Intimidators at-the-ready.
At the end of the fifth day, the Imperial Senator’s escort appeared in-full and we were informed of our release to Clark Port, in the Ehlanda system. I was permitted the retrieval of some of my ships, the rest to remain on NOS as she was decommissioned. The man in the black suit and Orion made their way toward one of the organization’s offices, which I found later to be in disarray, being stripped of all NOSCOMPROTOCOL technology and documents by Imperial forces before being shuttered by the organization. Meeting me on the quarterdeck of Galileo, they informed me of the organization’s decision to strip me of my Pilot’s Federation credentials, providing me with a new set.
“It was the only way we could make this work, Cadence.”
I looked at my new license, and looked into the eyes of the man in the black suit. He laughed. They read: “Cadence Nain, call-sign CMDR Half-L0ck.” I looked away from he and Orion, on whose face remained the passive resignation as he looked over Coral's progress, which continued at a much slower rate. I requested permission to revisit NOS a final time during its decommissioning and, moving between of various Imperial forces and OO12 laboratory assistants conducting their assessments and analyses of her interior passages, I took a final look over her flight deck from the guest area of viewing lounge before departing again for Ehlanda to await our extraction.
I received word from the man in the black suit and Orion, who immediately boarded Galileo and we departed from Clark Port. I looked at my exterior panel to see NOS’ carrier identification number on a vessel of a different name. The man in the black suit pointed it out and I marked it as Galileo’s destination. The flight deck air traffic controller welcomed us aboard and I stepped off Galileo onto the hangar deck of NAIN ONE (Carrier Identification Number V2L-45B). From the hangar deck, I saw two women waiting for us three. Her blonde locks no longer wrapped around her waist, and now bundled into the loose-ponytail, Callie wore a half-smile and her head was slightly-cocked to the left. Clara’s blue-eyes penetrated deeply into me, her still raven hair unbound by Pilot’s Federation regulations flowing down her shoulders. We approached and I started to greet them to be met with Clara’s pinched fingers inches from my face.
“We’ve been tasked with providing you carrier support for the remainder of Coral’s Realignment, Carl.”
The man in the black suit looked toward Orion, the tension in his face slowly draining, before looking at me.
“Why was I not told Brewer would be reassigning my Carrier Identification number, Carl?”
The man in the black suit rolled his eyes, asking Clara and Callie if they’d be willing to met us after we’d gotten settled in, on the Bridge deck.
“She also took over your Pilot’s Federation License, Cadence.”
It hadn’t occurred to me that something like that could happen and I kept my mouth shut about it. As he and Orion began to shuttle their properties over to their respective bunks, Coral’s pea structure being transferred to a hangar bay that Callie had given orders to reconstitute into a barracks for she and I upon her return, I took a look around NAIN ONE. It looked a lot like Novus Ordo Siderum. Certain sections were closed off and, I found out later, it had been commissioned in the immediate aftermath of NOS’ decommissioning after Callie had been pulled from her tasking on Archon Delaine. I began to make my way toward the viewing deck, before Clara’s voice thundered over the ship’s public-address system,
“Can the idiot that got us into this mess please report to the bridge immediately. I repeat, the idiot that got us into this mess is to report to the bridge immediately.”
Immediately following the announcement, I received a comms message from the man in the black suit to report to the bridge and, as I made my way there, I heard NAIN ONE’s hyperdrive thrusters begin preparations for launch. It surprised me, so I double-timed it into the bridge, with Callie and Clara’s crew peeking toward me to keep me from noticing they were staring as I passed. I took a look toward the bridge’s galaxy map and saw that California Sector Nebula was our intended destination.
“We’ll be continuing to conduct certain investigations for Imperial Senator Bluecrash, Cadence,” Said the man in the black suit. With the mention of her name, I noticed the churning at the base of my skull had not subsided. “The Senator’s OO12 Fringe Lab is currently conducting research on the mechanisms behind Thargoid hyper-diction and something about a Dark Forest. Its been decided that our presence in Thargoid-heavy California Sector Nebula would be a boon to the Imperial Senator’s work, so we’ll be reporting to her on occasion.”
I’d begun to detach from the conversation. His voice slowly grew tinny and Clara stepped in front of me, her eyes taking hold of me tighter than my own father might. Her voice shook me with a viciousness becoming of its smokier altissimo,
“You’ll also be working to find out everything you can about Mic Turner group’s involvement with the new Alliance-Sirius defense pact. We know Coral’s out there but we don’t know where. It’s been some time since we’ve heard from her, but we’ve just received a location beacon to our Pilot’s Federation Representative squadron map. I’m not your Primis Aseptus- so I can’t, technically, order you around but neither am I Carl, so I’m not gonna baby you. If you do anything to endanger Callie, I’ll kill you straight-away-“
“Easy,” the man in the black suit coughed toward us, stepping between us. Holding down a laugh, he nudged Clara away from me, turning his back to me and facing her. “There’s a lot of work to be done. There’s no reason the two of you can’t continue with your work on Delaine and the Kumo Crew while we take a look around the nebula for our own reasons.”
Callie, who’d been watching us all with scientific interest, turned to her bridge crew deck officer, and ordered the final jump to just outside the nebula.
“We’ll be stationed here for the time being. You’re free to do your work as you see fit, Cadence, but this is my ship. My ship, my rules. The Zero can’t help you aboard this vessel.”
The man in the black suit laughed and Orion, still occupied with charting and planning for Coral’s continued tracking, spared us a look, his calm smile having returned. I nodded a stiff acknowledgement toward Callie, my focus on the feeling of a smaller pebble thrown into the rock tumbler which was hard at work, polishing off a stone invisible to me.