Prelude to Conflict
28 Feb 2017Static-LG
“Docking sequence complete,” the traffic controller said as the large platform unlocked and jolted the entire ship. The deck dropped suddenly, as a gust of wind escaped from the inner confines of the outpost in the split second before the azure containment field activated. The barren world’s light starved atmospheric void was cold and unforgiving, causing the moisture in the liberated trace gases to crystallise nearly instantly as it drifted out into the twinkling lights of the majestic celestial sphere. “Welcome to this Federation terrestrial outpost,” the controller continued as the platform descended into the bay.
A hand clad in black reached for the communications panel and cut off the channel. “Not for much longer,” the pilot mumbled with a hint of a smile as the Corvette’s engines spooled-down.
“Newton!” the captain of the Relentless shouted, causing a young man to almost jump out of his skin as he got up from his seat and stood at attention.
“Yes boss?” Newton stuttered with a glint of confidence in his unwavering gaze.
“Make yourself useful and go oversee the cargo transfer,” the captain ordered with a concerned look as he cycled through the ship’s communications log. “This outpost is in dire need of the supplies we brought. No point in keeping them waiting.”
“Me?” Newton asked, somewhat confused. “But--”
“You heard me!” the captain interrupted and Newton ran out of the bridge as if the devil himself was on his heels.
The pilot turned around, looked at the captain and asked, “Are you sure we can trust him to transfer the goods? I’m still not certain it was wise to recruit one of the locals to work for us.”
“It couldn’t be helped, we need the extra hands,” the captain said, exasperated at the situation. “We just don’t have the numbers yet. Our recon teams are spread across the galaxy and the bulk of our forces are still in transit from wild space.”
The pilot sighed as he accepted the situation. He noticed the captain’s worried expression and asked, “Anything wrong?”
The captain looked away from the communications panel, leaned back against the chair and clenched his right fist in frustration. Worriedly, he said, “We’ve received an SOS from a civilian transport.”
Confused, the pilot asked, “How’s that unusual? We get those all the time.” He chuckled and said, “Considering how the locals like to prey on each other, I’m surprised there’s anyone left alive in this galaxy.”
“It’s one of ours,” the captain said sternly. “Colonial class.”
“That’s… not possible,” the pilot said with a look of disbelief. “The first ship isn’t due for…” he stopped to think about how much time had passed since High Command had issued the order that saw him deployed tens of thousands of light years from his family.
“Has it been that long already?” the pilot asked, happy that the time was drawing near when he would be reunited with his loved ones once again, but then the realisation hit him. “Which ship? What happened?” he nearly shouted.
The captain rubbed his left temple, fighting the building migraine as he said angrily, “The idiot in charge of the Horizon was trying to save time. He decided to cut through a region of Brown Dwarfs… and the ship ran out of fuel in the middle of nowhere.”
Laughter echoed throughout the bridge as the pilot nearly fell off his seat, driven to tears from the outburst. “He…” he tried to ask only to burst out laughing again as the doorway to the bridge cracked open and a shadowy figure stood listening just out of sight.
“Yes,” the Captain said with a heavy sigh. “And now we have over twenty thousand stranded civilians a thousand parsecs away running out of energy. Universe grant me strength!” He sighed once again. “Who the hell plots a long-haul course without checking the damned waypoint data? Seriously!”
The pilot was still trying to compose himself when the captain noticed the faintest of flickers from his communications panel. He reached out to it and saw an outbound message flash across the screen.
“What the hell?” the captain asked as he checked the logs. “Emergency override!” he shouted. “Sigma-326-Delta-5. Shut down all systems and lock-down the ship!” he bellowed and the bridge changed to the red glow of the emergency lighting system.”
“What’s wrong?” the pilot asked as they heard the clanking sound of running footsteps just outside the bridge.
“We’ve just broadcast the Horizon’s location!”
“We what?” the pilot asked. “Newton!” he said angrily. “I told you we couldn’t trust that weasel!”
“Not now! After him!” the captain pointed to the doorway as the pilot rushed out in pursuit.
“Damn it!” the captain scowled as he turned to the comms interface. The rogue message had disappeared from the system, wiped by some virus that had undoubtedly been uploaded into his ship’s mainframe as soon as the infiltrator stepped aboard the Relentless.
“This is my ship!” he said emphatically as he typed commands into the console, hacking the low-level processes of his own vessel. “You are not doing this to me!” he said angrily as the screens around him started displaying raw data.
Minutes felt like ours as he entered one command after another into the system only to be told that the information was irretrievable. He removed his left glove, placed his palm over the console and closed his eyes as he attempted to calm his mind. He knew that the information he needed was just within reach, all he had to do was find it. Calmly, he opened his eyes and smiled as he typed a final set of commands that caused all the raw data feeds to vanish as the ship began rebuilding the purged records.
“Got it!” he said triumphantly as the message’s target was displayed on the screen. Almost on cue, Newton was thrown into the bridge and landed roughly against the cold metal plates.
“I’m only gonna ask this one more time: who do you work for?” the pilot shouted as he drew close and got ready to pummel Newton into the floor.
Newton laughed as he stood back up confidently, his nervous demeanour all but gone now that his secret was out. “For a faction that will have you for breakfast if anything happens to me.” He smirked.
The captain got up from his chair and stretched his neck left and then right. Calmly, he walked up to Newton and said sternly, “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
“Of course I—“ Newton tried to say, only to be interrupted when the captain grabbed his neck and lifted him off the ground.
“Shut it!” the captain shouted with a murderous look. “You gave the location data to the Cartel! Do you understand the sheer magnitude of your crime? There are children on-board that ship, and you just told a bunch of murderers and meat traders where to find it. The scum of this galaxy is probably getting ready to head towards the Horizon right now, in search of a quick profit.” He drew Newton closer and asked through gritted teeth, “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t snap your neck.”
“You can’t reach it in time…” he said, struggling for breath. “If you harm me we will hunt you…” he went pale as his heart raced out of control. “What’s happening to me?” Newton thought in abstract fear as terrifying images flooded into his mind: a long-forgotten war in a galaxy nothing like the one he knew; persecution and old hatreds that threatened to consume the soul of the very galaxy; a veritable armada’s desperate trek through wild space in search of a home that didn’t exist, and a burning fury that would see everyone like him purged from existence without a second thought.
The captain released his grip and Newton staggered back a few steps. Petrified, he was about to ask something when the pilot punched his lights out.
The pilot looked down at the betrayer’s twitching body and said, “You will live to answer for what you’ve done, but your friends will not be so lucky. We were going to deal with them eventually, but you just signed their death warrants.”
The captain snapped his fingers and a holographic view of the galaxy appeared before the duo. “Show me all our operatives,” he ordered and the star chart updated, coloured points of light appearing across the galaxy. He smiled, looked at the pilot and ordered, “Summon all our people within five hundred light-years. We’ll need all the help we can get to pull this off.”
“Pull what off?” the pilot asked in frustration. “Newton was right! This antiquated trash bucket can’t make it to the convoy in time! And even if it could, there’s no way for us to carry enough fuel to move a ship that size.”
“It won’t be easy, but it is possible. All we need is a few upgrades,” the captain smiled mischievously. “Look at the map and tell me: who do you see?”
Confused, the pilot stared at the code names of the operatives within the alert zone and asked, “The Old Guard is in this region?” Fearfully, he continued, “We’re calling them? They’re far too unpredictable. Anyone who’s lived that long—“
“Would have just the knowledge we need,” the captain interrupted. “They were around when we got stranded, they understand the old technology that’s been lost to our generation. If anyone knows of a way to get us there and bring the ship back, it’s them,” he said hopefully.
The Captain pointed at one of the stars and a list with several names appeared. He clenched his right fist in determination, smiled faintly and said, “I don’t care if High Command forbade us to use our old technology in this Galaxy, and neither does the Old Guard. We’ll upgrade this ship and get them out to the Horizon, even if it means we must sacrifice the Relentless in the process. I will see my ship destroyed before I let a single one of our people end up in chains, understood?”
“Yes sir!” the pilot said, full of pride. “Opening comm’s channel!”
Nervously, the captain cleared his throat as the image of a man appeared on the screen. “This is the FS Relentless calling for assistance from all nearby Shadows.”
On the other side of the communications channel, the man’s cheerful disposition evaporated in an instant, his expression going solemn as he said sternly, “Kronenbrg here. Report!”