Five AM
16 Nov 2016Isaiah Evanson
November 2nd, 3302
The arrowhead shape of the Bloodfeather dropped out of supercruise a few kilometers behind Hiram’s Anchorage, marking the end of the patrol sortie for her two-man crew. Just beyond the station, Prism’s light sliced the darkness that enveloped Chione. There was a serenity in the moment, seeing Hiram’s Anchorage spinning lazily before them, silhouetted in the sunrise.
It had been three days since Kahina Loren was convicted in the assassination attempt on Admiral Denton Patreus. Three days since the protests began. Three days since self-styled vigilantes started lashing out at Imperial vessels in the systems around Prism. In a twist of irony, Loren’s Legion - the unit bearing the wayward Senator’s name - had been trying desperately to preserve the peace.
Isaiah rubbed his bleary eyes, tried to focus on the clock in the upper right hand corner of the holographic displays. Five in the morning. Twelve hours in the black. The Legion was spread thin trying to manage all the reports of hit-and-run strikes on the traders coming into the system proper. As a result, he and others were pulling long shifts. This was his sixth straight day, and he was exhausted.
Behind him, the door to the bridge opened and the familiar thunk thunk of magboots made its way alongside. Isaiah managed a sidelong glance at his co-pilot, Carolyn Pratt, then returned his focus to what lay beyond the canopy.
“Did you get any sleep?” he asked quietly, not wanting to speak too loudly. She'd been resting in the forward cabin after her six-hour stint behind the controls.
“No,” Carolyn said, sitting down in the co-pilot’s seat. She brushed a few locks of her strawberry blonde hair away from her face and behind her ear. “Hard to sleep when you know your home is in trouble.”
Isaiah made a low sound of acknowledgment. He knew the feeling all too well.
Carolyn was one of the Legion’s newest pilots. She’d flown in support of Senator Patreus’ efforts to crush the Falisci Purple Gang in early 3301, but she was still inexperienced. In spite of the circumstances, the patrol sorties were prime opportunities for her to learn. Unfortunately, it also meant longer shifts for Isaiah.
“Do you think she really did it? Tried to have Patreus assassinated?” Carolyn asked. While it wasn’t strictly against policy to discuss it, Isaiah had kept his feelings and opinions on the trial to himself. Commenting on it publicly was well above his pay grade and he wasn’t going to run the risk of saying something that could put the Legion at risk. But here with another pilot, and in private discussion, he’d allow himself to speak freely.
“Honestly, I would need to see all of the evidence against her to be able to tell you,” he said. “I don’t think the recording that was leaked is as damning as people seem to think it is. Context, in this case, is crucial. Without evidence to support it, it’s just a recording of a Senator making and off-the-cuff remark.”
“Surely there’s more to it than a recording though,” Carolyn replied, to which Isaiah scoffed.
“We’re never going to find out. The fact they wouldn’t allow the Legion to send witnesses to observe the proceedings pretty much settles that. All the evidence is probably sealed away now.”
That fact had been a point of contention for him. He made an impassioned plea for witnesses that had fallen on deaf ears. Such was the nature of Imperial justice, he was told. There would be no courtroom drama of the sort that the Federation’s pop culture thrived upon. And while he understood the need for discretion, he felt it unfair to the citizens of Prism.
Only a few months prior, people had gathered in Leeson City to pay tribute to then-Senator Loren’s disappearance. He’d looked on as thousands of people braved inclement weather to hold a solemn vigil in Loren Piazza. The people adored Kahina Loren. They deserved to know what was being said, what evidence there was for and against her. Now they would never know, and the consequences stemming from the verdict were being felt all over the region.
“May I ask you something personal, Commander Evanson?”
“You can, but I’ll decide whether or not to answer it.”
“Fair enough.”
“Go on.”
Carolyn’s voice lowered. “I overheard some of the other pilots talking about you in Ray’s Speakeasy. Said you had experience with civil wars, seeing how you’re from Eravate.” She paused, clearly hesitating. "They say you fought in that insurrection in 3298."
"I did." Isaiah glanced over at her, raised an eyebrow. "What's your point?"
“Do… do you think that a war could happen here due to all of this?”
He drew in a breath, holding it in his chest for a moment as a wave of emotion washed over him. More than once he’d thought that it could happen here. It hardly seemed fair because he’d come to see Prism as his home and members of the Legion as his family. All of this happened at the same time that he’d finally found a moral center and a cause to hold to.
He considered all of the possibilities, including having to fight against the forces of Admiral Patreus in order to protect his home. And that was what terrified him. He had friends serving under the Admiral, people he’d come to trust and people he cared for. He’d be fighting against them, and they against him.
Deep down, he knew if it came to that, the choice would not require any thought or consideration. He swore a solemn oath to protecting Prism - his home - against all enemies. He’d follow it to his grave if he had to. But he could hear the uncertainty in Carolyn’s voice. It weighed on her mind the way it weighed on his. She needed something to ease her concerns.
“No,” he said. “I don’t think there’ll be a war here. This is just a temporary state of affairs. Ambassador Delaney is the smoothest political operator I’ve had the pleasure of not disliking,” Isaiah said, smirking slightly. He might have been lying about the possibility of civil war, but certainly not about Delaney. In fact, he had the utmost confidence in the man. “If anyone can keep the wolves at bay, it’s him.”
“You don’t think Admiral Patreus will try to dissolve the Legion?”
“Cuthrick knows how to work the system as well as anyone. He’ll hold the line.” He paused, then added. “Our job is to protect the system. If it comes to that, we’ll do what we must. That’s what you and I both signed up for. But don’t worry about it right now. That’s a bridge that I feel we’ll never have to cross.”
“I hope you’re right.”
For a few minutes, all was silent in the cockpit of the Bloodfeather. Isaiah revelled in the sight of Prism rising above Chione. He’d lived here in some capacity for nearly a year, and while he shared Carolyn’s fears, he knew better than to let them control him.
"You're a long way away from home, Commander." Those were the first words he'd ever heard someone say to him when he arrived in Imperial space so many months ago.
Actually, I've never felt closer.
“No matter what happens,” Isaiah said, breaking the silence to reassure Carolyn, “just remember that this too shall pass. Kahina Loren may never be heard from again, but Prism shines on. And so long as there’s something here to protect, we’ll be here to protect it.”
“That’s pretty damn poetic, Commander,” Carolyn said with a quiet chuckle.
“Thanks. I thought it might appeal to your Imperial sensibilities, what with fancy wording and all that.” Isaiah managed a smug grin, then added: “You want to take us into port?”
Carolyn nodded, taking the controls from her seat. “With pleasure.”