NaNo 2009 - Part 3

Alright. A day late now. I'm going to keep writing tonight, but not a complete chapter's worth, so ta-da! (15 011/16 670, missing a day)

Also! I've changed Maria's name to Marie, but it's still not right yet, so it may change again... Any ideas on non-M girls names?

Marissa and Katsuro lay beneath a tightly tucked sheet, resting together in a mixture of limbs. After waking from a small nap herself, she had spent a few minutes watching the warrior sleep before slipping out of the sheet. She floated to her small amenities, similar to every other officer’s on the ship, to take a brief, scalding shower. As she began dressing in a new uniform, Katsuro rolled over, opened one eye, and grunted.

“Go back to sleep,” said the doctor, soothingly, as she yanked on the gravmag boots. “I need to get back to the med center, but I won’t be gone long.” She smiled broadly at him and tugged on the remaining boot.

Katsuro yawn showily and flopped over to his stomach in the sleeve of a bed. Most rooms still came with a bed, but since the ship spent all of its time at zero gravity environments, the sleepsuit was the most common way to rest.

The sleepsuit straps a person to a bizarre hybrid of a sleeping bag and straight jacket. The set-up allowed for minimization of space required for bedding and prevented people from colliding with important components as they slept. As starships grew in size, more room was available for officer and crew quarters, allowing beds back into rooms, with very taut sheets.

Marissa traveled briskly to the med center, knowing that the chief was always needed, even if she was off-duty. As she approached the large doors, a very unexpected sound came falling out: silence. Rounding the hatch and entering the room revealed that most of the patients had left, all be the two involved in the backfire incident. The nursing and surgical staffs had dispersed, returning to their small clinics and triage stations spread throughout the ship. Only Stephen remained, taking notes on a portable tablet.

“Doctor Jordan, what happened to all the patients? I was only gone for an hour and a half.”

Stephen turned and looked up. He replied, grinning, “Most of them were awaiting a final examination, ma’am. After you had left, I finished most of them off quickly and am pretty close to completing off the records now. I left two pads of data on your desk to review and sign.”

Marissa cocked her head, incredulously, before generating a reciprocating smile, “Well done, Stephen. We’ll have you being a chief medical officer in no time!”

Stephen Jordan blushed, “Thank you, ma’am. If you will let me, I’ll finish up these records and take off. I’m back on duty after Marseilles shift, in about forty minutes. So, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Taking the tablet from him, the chief sank down behind her desk, remarking at stillness that had befallen the center, with only the steady repeating beeps of the two wounded to break up the monotony of the ship’s thrumming engine. After sighing and straightening her unforced, content smile, she dove into the records, reviewing and signing them all.

‘Doc’ Marseilles showed up for his shift about twenty minutes late, expecting to find the unpleasantly optimistic Stephen, or a scowling Marissa waiting for him to show up. He also was dumbfounded to enter a quiet facility. Absolutely quiet, except that omnipresent engine, predicable bleeps of functional life support equipment, and the semi-blissful humming of Doctor Deville, leaking from the rear office.

As he cautiously approached the door, he peeked his head around the open hatch to hear, “Good day, ‘Doc.’ As soon as I finish up these records, I’ll be out of your way.” She looked up at him, smiled and nodded.



Marie quickly changed from her off-duty clothes, to her standard uniform, pausing briefly to regret some of the decisions that gave her scars on her right upper arm and shoulder. She smiled grimly before zipping up her outfit and proceeding out into the hall towards the bridge again.

Her blonde hair had been bundled up behind her head again and oscillated like a clock’s pendulum with each hurried step. The thought that she would be on a ship on the offensive again filled her with both excitement and dread. The attack ship of the Hiro command group had been the Enyo, her first posting. The Enyo was ordered after any of the Confederacy command’s enemies in the area, and as a coordinating munitions officer, it was her job to pick targets and relay the orders directly to the turrets. The dread the arose simultaneously resulted from a similar event on the Enyo, after a tedious and long battle, the ship had to recharge its solar stores. Ten percent of the way through the process, a small, sleeping squadron of enemy emerged from the wreckage and had several firing passes before the Enyo could counter. The Enyo lost a third of its crew in that fight, especially after a missile had managed to penetrate a central access tunnel and disrupted the vacuum enough to damage many workstations and kill many people.

Disabling her gravmag, she pushed her way up the access shaft to the bridge. She almost ran into Jakob, who had been entering the shaft. She had quickly reached out and captured the nearest rung, drastically reducing her speed and yanking at her shoulder.

Jakob, also reacting to the impending crash, flung himself opposite of the door he had just entered, ramming the series of rungs chest first. Pushing himself away from the edge, he turned towards her and asked politely, “You okay?”

“Yeah, sir.” Replied Marie, faking a smile. “Just unexpected.” After regaing composure over the next few minutes, Marie began again, “Shall we head to the captain’s office?.”

Jakob shook his head, “No, the captain is in his quarters, so we need to head down that way.”

Marie rolled her eyes and exclaimed, “I was just down there!” They both proceeded back towards the officer quarters, their feet leading them to the captain’s door. Upon arriving, Marie bowed slightly and gave the ‘after-you’ gestured.

With a loud and heavy knock, Jakob pounded on the hatch, with the door cracking further and further into the room with each successive hit. Captain Reynolds yelled out from inside, “Enter!”

Both the officers entered the dark quarters and stood silently, waiting for the captain to be ready for them. Unusually, the captain was standing with his hand resting in the falling sand of his model. “Commander Hanson and Lieutenant Commander Fields. Have you completed your analysis of the Reaper forces? And have you prepared a course of action?”

The frankness of the captain seemed to make his odd mood. Jakob was the first to speak up, “Aye sir. We have two possible recommendations for you to decide between. We believe the first, a thread jump to here, would be able to eliminate the enemy before they can regroup. The second option, on the opposite side of the sun, gives them adequate time to form up. We’re prepared to…”

The captain raised his hand slightly, intending to stop the brief. His dark brown eyes scanned Jakob first and then Marie. “Is this the best option for us now?” He paused briefly and continued, “Then get ready for combat and prepare to use the hyperthread. Dismissed.”

The two officers slowed retreated from the room. As soon as they closed the hatch behind them, the pair exchanged troubled expressions. Finally Jakob spoke, “Alright, so be it then. To arms…” He turned and headed back towards the bridge.

“To arms,” echoed Marie softly and followed.



The ship was preparing to travel using the hyperthread drive. All stations had checked in and were prepared for combat. Jakob sat in the command seat and signaled for Marie to issue the order.

“Activate needle! Hyperthread drive engage!” She shouted to the whole bridge. Traveling at faster than the speed of light requires massive computer power as well and intent focus on the task by many different stations.

There had never been any reports of ill effects on ship or crew from traveling faster than mathematically possible, but the transition between space was still discomforting. The feeling was always explained to be like skipping a stone across water, except the ship and crew were the ones skipping through space. It was a series of abrupt jumps and stops and has cost many crew members their lunch.

Jakob had thought the skipping stone metaphor could have been better. The commander thought that it was more like a vehicles crashing into a planet’s surface repeatedly in slow motion, with each landing spinning the vehicle faster and occurring more frequently. He had been fortunate to only get sick the first time, where as some soldiers struggled every time. The ship finally emerged from the last threading. Telemetry had to quickly calculate their position to not only verify the final destination, but to find where in the target area they arrived. Ships can aim very precisely and still end up gigameters from their destination.

Magda called out from below, “Sir! We’re seventy kilometers closer than we expected. Reorienting the ship now!”

“All cannons and warming up, sir.” Marie supplied. “Four minutes on missles and projectiles, fourteen on everything else. Contact with frigate alpha in eleven minutes. If all goes to plan, we’ll have contact with the command ship in twenty.”

“Excellent!” Commended Jakob, whose control pad just bleeped. “The captain says superb work on the hyperthread.”

“Will he be taking command?” asked Marie.

Jakob frowned and shook his head. “This one is ours, Marie.” Jakob dialed in some orders into his command pad and returned to the rear control station he had used in the last battle, leaving the command chair empty.

“Aye, sir. We’ll give them hell,” she replied affirmatively, smiling as Jakob took his post.

Drones began flooding out of the first frigate two minutes before contact. In a panicked rush, it appeared that the kamikaze drones exploded just out of the hanger. One minute before attack range was achieved, frigate alpha sounded its distress and surrendered.

Jakob called to the lower bridge, “Verify threat level on frigate alpha.” He paused listening to the answer and continued, “Alright, signal acceptance of surrender.”

Two minutes later frigate beta opened fire, but two amazingly lucky missile strikes landed in the drone bays and triggered a chain reaction that arched through the entire vessel. The frigate gamma broke off pursuit, fleeing perpendicular to the command ship’s and Alexia’s path. However, the ion cannons were finally online and one precise shot crippled an engine on the retreating vessel.

“Send this message to the enemy command ship, ‘This is Commander Jakob Hanson of the Valiant Confederation of Forces ship Alexia. Signal your surrender now and most of your crew will go free. You have five minutes to reply or we will continue our attack!’” Jakob was smiling as the lieutenant below confirmed the transmission of the message.

A short reply came from the Reaper command ship, “This is Admiral Baxter of the Reaper of Grim ship, Death. Go fuck yourself, Commander.”

Jakob smirked at the curse, muttering softly to Marie, “We have them.” She could only nod in agreement. He then called down to the lower bridge, “Focus on the command ship’s propulsion systems and long range weapons systems on the first. If we don’t hamstring them, then we’ll bring about on a second pass. Otherwise we’ll continue to the defender, taking out all of their weapons.”

He paused, glanced towards Marie, and mouthed ‘Anything else?’ Gritting her jaw, she shook her head slightly. Jakob smiled appreciatively and continued, “Execute order bundle JH-271, codename Pickle-one.” He chuckled as he called out the name and reminded himself to begin naming his strategies and combat simulations better.

The packet issued objectives for each gunner to hit on their first pass, granting a priority for certain targets. In an area distant from the bridge, the heads-up display for each team of gunners light up un a bright flurry of colors, finally resolving into the enemy command ship with targets highlighted in a bright red for high priority and pale pink for low. A few places on each gunners screen were a brilliant blue color, indicating areas to avoid firing at, which are typically computer mainframes and rations depots, both to be claimed by the GASSers.

As the navigators on the bridge issued orders for changes in propulsion on many different nozzles and drives throughout the ship, constantly having to respond to commands from the isolated bridge, Jakob’s command packet gave the gunner teams exactly what they wanted: a list of targets and the two word command ‘open fire.’ As the crimson blips entered into firing range, first for the energy cannons, then missiles, and finally projectile cannons, the Alexia erupted in spokes of blinding light and silvery shot as the rushed towards the enemy command ship. Many of the projectile shots had targeted the enemy missile bays, a common strategy to attempt to erupt launching missiles.

The first pass erupted the command ship in bursts of energy and metal. Although raked with damage, the command ship has also fired a spread that connected with the aft section of the ship.

A lieutenant from the lower bridge called out, “Sir, engine rear five is suffering critical damage. It’s shutting down to prevent overlo…” The ship lurched and rattled, driving anyone not strapped in out of their chairs onto the ground. Jakob’s grip on his pad left a small dent in the smooth exterior. “Sir… we’ve lost rear engine five.”

“Dammit,” swore Jakob. “Navigation, compensate course to intercept, execute JH-275, codename Pickle-five!”

New packets of data replaced the previous data sets on all active screens with only a momentary blur of color. The targets for the gunners had all shifted to the rapidly closing defense ship and navigation commands streamed over the consoles. Marie, who had multiple screens in her workstation, could review the plans simultaneously and gasped as she put together the commands.

“Jakob, you can’t! The crew can’t do it. The computer isn’t fast enough for it.”

“Relax,” replied a calm and almost smug Jakob, “I’m sure it’s just enough to work. Call it an experimental protocol.” He smiled, before adding, “I need you to call it out, Marie. You’re faster than me.”

She sighed, rolling her eyes, “Aye, sir.” Taking a deep breath, she plunged into the long strings of commands, always changing based on the enemies position, relative to the Alexia, meanwhile the thought crossed through her mind, ‘I wish this were a lesson and I could see it executed…’

From an outside observing ship, like the defeated frigates that were watching the battle intently, the two versus one melee was a beautiful dance thought impossible to reproduce because of the magnificent speed and grace exposed in the massive ships. From any of the three ships involved, however, the battle was a roaring whirlwind of debris, energy, and raw destructive force. The future would name this fight Hurricane Alexia.



Gunners had a tendency to yell, grunt, and curse, often superimposing sounds on the battle in front of them in the dark, silent space. Navigators and pilots often groaned as maneuvers did not quite work as planned and the ship took damage. Officers never made a sound, except to give orders, because they were trained beacons of skill and precision.

The Scamp, Fairy, and Sprite floated, damaged, behind the wrath of Captain Reynold’s heavy cruiser Alexia. Their crews watched transfixed on the battle unfolding before them, with the officers making commentary and the crewmen left silent torn between each their lives or their future, depending on which ship won the fight.

A stream of commands flew from the upper deck downwards, which then were further refined and dispatched to engine workers, gunners, pilots, and many others. As the Pickle-five set up neared completion, the ship dived between two ship, spewing drones from the aft bays. Drone command, following orders, set up a rapidly changing sheet of firepower. Meanwhile the Alexia passed under the Ferryman, the Reaper defense ship, in a twirl. Shooting out the leech tethers and riddling the contact area with projectile fire, the Alexia induced a small spin in the enemy ship and was able to tear out an entire turret with the first pass.

The drone web began flooding the defense ship with small energy fire, tearing small gashes in the outer hull that could eventually bleed air into space. With the Ferryman’s rear turrets focused on slowing the slightly faster Alexia, it rotated the fore cannons disperse the drones. The drone’s small size, constant movement, and strategic placement allowed the missed to pass through the region and connect with the command ship behind it.

The weak friendly fire landed only a few glancing blows as the wounded vessel finished turning about to re-engage the Confederate ship. Precise volleys from both the Ferryman and Death eliminated the drones between the ships, and the command ship came alongside of the defense craft. The first pass on each ship by the Alexia had done considerable visible damage.

The two ships, although facing opposite directions rotated their most damaged sections toward each other. Jakob changed strategies again, going down a digit. Taking a wide-turn to make a second pass across the short side of each ship, the Alexia accelerated to full speed, holding fire until it re-harpooned the closer command ship. Passing only meters apart from both ships, the Confederate ship released its volley into the wounded surface of the Ferryman and jerked the Death into the molten metal, fusing the two Reaper vessels.

The Alexia made another wide-turn, lining up on the aft of the command ship and nose of the defense vessel. A call chimed into Jakob’s control pad, “Commander, this is Captain Calderon of the Reaper of Doom ship, the Ferryman, offering the surrender of the entire force to you and the Confederacy. Please, sir, aid would be appreciated…”

“Captain, this is Commander Hanson of the Valiant Confederation of Forces heavy cruiser Alexis under the command of Captain Clifford Reynolds. I accept your surrender, prepare to be boarded.”

Jakob released an exhausted sigh, “Execute SP-645, codename standard boarding protocol 1… I’ll be in the mess, Marie please accompany me. Lieutenant Fletcher, you have the bridge.”



Katsuro lead his Ground Armored Strike Squad into the enemy capital ship. He tried his best not to be impressed with the surrounding destruction, but he had to admit the results were impressive. Nineteen soldiers in exosuits traversed the hallways of the fused ship, disarming and securing the facilities, as well as searching for explosives, traps, and officers. The only one found was a small, poorly set up explosive inside of the admiral’s quarters. The admiral, despite his team’s efforts could not be found on the ship, but there were many areas with holes that a human could be pushed through. Detection of a single body drifting in space was nearly impossible. The GASSers extracted the rations, supplies, and memory cores, as well as herding the crew to a centralized location.

As the footmen finished organizing a landing site, Katsuro called the Alexia on a transmitter beacon, “Homeship Alexia, please confirm connection.”

A sweet, almost caring, voice called back within two minutes of contact, “This is the Confederate cruiser Alexia, connection confirmed.”

Smiling beneath the mass of metal and transparent plastics that made his exosuit, the commander replied, “GASSer one requesting a pick up on the Reaper ship, the Ferryman, full complement, plus supplies.”

“Shuttle boat is on its way, Commander. Estimate extraction in four minutes. See you soon, sir,” answered back the bridge officer on the Alexia.

Katsuro paced the hangar deck, crushing debris beneath the sealed suit. His impatience showed in every heavy step, ticking like a clock until the shuttle arrived. As the time closed near one minute, he called his platoon to form up.

The eighteen men assisted their comrades to heavy load the machines with the supplies before firing small boosters to allow the drop ship to scoop up the floating soldiers and their payload. Four pairs of men carried the scavenged computer cores for both the command ship and defense ship.

The crew filed out, with the commander bringing up the rear. As he drifted out of the hanger towards the transport, Katsuro turned and observed the wreckage with a sneer of disgust.



Twenty two minutes later, Commander Okado was in the captain’s office, along with Commander Hanson and Lieutenant Commander Fields. The captain was at his desk, facing towards the three officers, and deeply engrossed in Katsuro’s report.

When he was done, he set the tablet down on the desk, although the small pad bounced and hovered slightly above the desk. “So…” began Captain Reynolds, which was never a good sign for someone in the room, “you are displeased with the method and results of the battle directed by Commander Hanson here.”

He made a small gesture towards Jakob, who was standing near the other corner of the desk from the marine. Jakob glared annoyed at the officer, before attempting to speak up. He was stilled before the first syllable by a slight wave of the captain’s large hand.

Katsuro leapt in that place, declaring his argument aloud, “Captain, Commander Hanson used untested, unauthorized tactics that not only eliminated the salvageability of two large enemy vessels, but deprived my men of their share of combat. And I feel that letting someone without significant battle experience lead a complex and highly dangerous situation is foolish and irresponsible.”

To the astonishment of both Marie and Jakob, the captain only smiled broadly. He inhaled slowly though his teeth, before slowly replying, “I’m sorry you feel that way commander. Your men performed everything asked of them to a level of perfection that we can only hope for. I’m sure the next battle, the commander, if he leads it, will be sure to strengthen your role in the conquest.”

“Thank you, sir,” answered the soldier. Katsuro gave Marie a grim and forced smile as he passed her heading out of the hatch.

Waiting a few moments after the commander head left, the captain rotated his chair towards Jakob. “You did well for a battle of this magnitude, but Commander Okado is correct. You violated many protocols with your original, unpracticed tactics. Most obviously, pickle?”

“Ah, well, sir…” stuttered Jakob. I had created some tactics depending on the positions and statuses of the ships, since we wouldn’t know the real time positions until too late. And we were entering a real pickle of a battle, sir.”

“So I see…” affirmed the captain, as he pulled up a list of order sets. “How long did it take you to develop these tactics? All twelve of them.”

“Sir, about two hours for the first one and twenty minutes for each one after that. Once I mapped out the data on the enemy vessels. I just had to change orientations and firing patterns. For example, tactics one and two on differ on the position of the defense ship, so it’d have to be a continuous firing run.”

“While your strategy and initiative is highly commendable, your tactics almost left the mission compromised with the severe damage to the ships. We were lucky on the housing of the computer cores to prevent any damage.” He cocked his head slightly and continued, “I’m afraid Commander Okado’s assessment may be correct and you are currently unready for independent combat.”

Showing his dismay on his face, Jakob could only force out an, “Aye sir.” He saluted the captain and left the office with Marie in tow. As they floated down to the housing deck, he gritted his teeth to keep from venting his anger in the echoing access tunnel. Leading to his quarters, Jakob shoved in the hatch, holding it open long enough to allow Marie to enter. Slamming the door closed behind her, Jakob stalked over to his chest and removed two small vials, filled with an amber liquid. He handed over one bottle to Marie, and raised it into the air.

“To battle and the Alexia” he toasted impassively. Marie echoed the toast and they drank down the bourbon quickly. Jakob disabled his gravmag and drifted towards the ceiling. Spinning in a slow circle, he asked, “Do you think they’re right? Too much? Not the right plan?”

Marie smiled, “No, sir.” He glared at her until she corrected herself. “No, Jakob. I’m sure those goals are nice, but there’s something not right going on here. It is unusual for the captain to give you command so quickly and abrupt, but even more so since he was the one who ordered us to pursue the Reapers into this system.

“We’re going to be here for over a week, repairing the damage done to the engine and hull, but you destroyed those ships with very minimal damage to us, something I don’t think the captain could have done.”

“You know,” replied Jakob, “I couldn’t have done it without you. I may have the eye for strategy and tactics, but I honestly don’t have the still to execute all of it in real time… to juggle some many commands and patterns...

Marie blushed, “Jakob, don’t go there. We don’t need to turn this into a flattery circle. But I seriously think something isn’t right. I can listen to the grumbling as well as anyone can and everyone knows we should have returned to the Hiro, instead of trekking to a distant system to annihilate a small mercenary operation. Many people have families in the Hiro’s group.” Her expression shifted to one of deep thought and reminiscence.

Jakob interrupted her brief thoughts; “Did you notice anything strange about that battle?

“Besides the pickle tactics? Not really, but I was quite focused on the commands on screen.”

“Well…” started Jakob, “the first frigate’s kamis exploded as they left the bay, despite not being targeted. The second had a few lucky strikes, but detonating a chain reaction down the spine of the ship sounds farfetched. I don’t know what that means, coincidence or purposeful. Maybe it was a truly awful test that someone had set up or the Reaper were undertrained and poorly maintained….”

“Jakob, I think you’re looking at it too hard,” replied Marie soothingly. “Honestly, I don’t know if any of that battle went according to plan, but it went very well and you should feel good about that. Everyone one knows who was behind that fighting and while Okado’s men don’t like it, they can’t argue that you minimized damage.” She walked over and tenderly put her hand on his floating arm.

Smiling at her touch, he clasped his hand over hers, saying, “Thank you, Marie, you really are a good friend.” A look of apprehension struck his face before he quelled it with a smile.

Marie gave no indication that she saw the emotion, instead choosing to return his smile. Slipping her hand away from his and walking towards the desk char, she asked slowly, “Do you see what I see? In the captain, I mean. He’s been unusual lately. Giving you command, chiding your almost every action. Sensitivity to any question, the temper… Something must be wrong.”

Jakob sighed, hesistating, before replying, “Yes, that is true, but perhaps whatever put him that way is in those messages. Maybe it’s the worst of our few or these are the orders… We can’t know and until we do, we have to trust the captain.”

She frowned moving to the room’s exit now, answering, “I suppose so, but in the end, I think I was wrong. The captain isn’t desperate like Raoul, I really believe that the captain is going mad.”

She smiled assuring and quickly left the room. Jakob propelled himself to the shower in the corner of the room, stripping his clothes off as he drifted. Entering the small box, he let the hot, pressured water rain over him and thought. The tight spray hit him, with beads of water sticking and most others bouncing off. The shower’s surface was coated with a substance that prevented the water from sticking, allowing the small suction drain to pull the water from the chamber.

Clenching his fist, Jakob began to shake slightly, repressing the urge to yell while venting his frustration. He sunk down to the bottom of the shower with a curse and remained there for minutes.



Marie tried to go the next several days remaining over the rumor machine that exists on any ship. Luckily, the gossip suggesting a relationship between her and Commander Hanson was short lived, probably because of its believability. Other rumors slowly surfaced about the Hiro, about the Reapers, and about the Guild returning. Any experienced officer knows that attempting to quash a rumor only caused it to spread faster, but Marie still could not wait for the ship to return to the command group and present some normalcy.

Quickly finishing her meal, the lieutenant commander walked hurridly back to her cabin to finish the services for the two Alexia crewmen that had died in the skirmish with the Reaper ships. The captain had been sequestered with the captain of the Ferryman for the past two days, occasionally calling in Jakob and Katsuro and once requesting Marie.

Terms and execution of the surrender had taken place within hours of the initial flag, so naturally more rumors were generated by the negotiations between the two captains.

All Marie had been able to glean from the loudest crewmembers related to the four frigates that would be towing the fused wreckage and all of the Reaper’s crews to the Tradepost station. The Tradepost station was unique among all of the other non-mobile stations because it was the central hub of a slowly growing hyperthread network. The hyperthread gates were an exclusive adaptation of the Imperial drive, owned by the Valiant Confederation.

The Valiant Confederation of Forces represented more than a collective of mercenary groups and planetary forces, but also represented scores of traders and entrepreneurs. Unlike the Imperial Space Fleet, which represented the council’s decisions and whims, or local armies raised by planetary governments, the VCoF was a separate entity, selling service and access to governments and individuals.

It was the very independence of the Confederacy that drove the conflict with the Guild. As long as the destruction was limited to each division’s property and never spread to colonies, the Empire expressed complete apathy towards the conflict and assisted neither side. The Guild was a trading company first and evolved into selling protection services. The Confederation-Guild conflict lasted only years, thanks to the recent faster than light speed technologies, but it still was devastating to both sides.

Most say it was the greater skill of the crewmen that allowed the Confederacy to claim victory over the Guild and, in the end, their trade routes and protection services. With that contest settled, the Valiant Confederation became the largest organization not directly in service to the Imperial council.

Marie still had her doubts about the trustworthiness of a recently defeated foe, but overall, it would be years before a new Reaper force could challenge Alexia. The captain had asked to see her in two hours time, about forty minutes ago, allowing Marie time to complete the speeches for the early morning burial.

Marie was frantically trying to upload the completed speeches onto the mobile access device that she had, but with only four minutes left, she could only hope to not be late for the appointment. As soon as the device lit up, signifying completion of the upload, Marie yanked it from the station and bolted out of the hatch. The captain’s quarters were close, but was still a two minute walk from her room. Arriving slightly winded and even more slightly close to time, she pounded on the door three times. As the electronic lock clicked, she pushed it open slowly to see the two captains sitting solemn around a grid. The captain, unsmiling, waved her closer and disabled the switch on the screen, dimming the map. The defeated officer stood and nodded towards the captain before passing Marie on the way out.

“Please, sit, Commander,” asked Captain Reynolds, gesturing towards the now vacant chair.

Marie obliged, taking the slightly warmed seat and making a mental note about how much heavier her electromagnets felt in the captain’s cabin. Marie began to start, since the captain only sat, staring at the dark grid on the desk, “Sir, I assume you wanted to see me about tomorrow eulogy service of the two crewmen lost during the battle.”

The captain nodded and tried to give an unsuccessful reassuring grin. “Ah, yes, of course. Do you have a basic written up?”

“Aye, sir,” replied the second officer, handing over the remote access tablet. The captain spent a few minutes reviewing the words on the pad before lowering it, still likely unfinished.

“Looks good so far, but that’s not what I called you down here for. I see that you were last promoted almost four years ago, after a battle eliminated the first officer at the time. Typically the time as a lieutenant commander is about five years, but I believe you’d shown your worth to the Confederacy. Effective immediately, I’m promoting you to Commander. Congratulations, Commander Fields.”

Marie was beaming at the unexpected news. She had been slightly concerned about getting the promotion within the next two years, but she did not expect it so soon. “Th… thank you sir,” was all she managed to stutter out, restraining the celebratory phrases for later. The captain pulled the ranks from a compartment in a drawer in his desk and passed it to the commander.

She accepted them graciously and began to remove the old insignia. As she began attaching the first new rank, the captain asked, “Have you, in all of your time on this ship or in the Confederation, ever heard or seen anything related to a special protocol named ‘Operation Firestorm’?”

Pausing to think after completing her promotion, she finally replied thoughtfully, “Yes. Actually.” The captain’s face contorted slightly at an obviously unexpected response. “It’s one of the secure protocols that are ‘For Captain’s Eyes Only,’ like Operation Scattershot, Deep Thaw, and… hm, I believe it was Planet Cracker. A lot of the plans are for use in emergency situations and they actually can’t be viewed, just the summaries of the actions. Those four protocols have a description of ‘For Captain’s Eyes Only’ and the access code is very, very strong.”

The captain nodded with this and prodded further, “But no intelligence reports or scuttlebutt about any of those programs?” Marie only shook her head; although curious, she knew this was a security issue.

“Thank you, Commander. I will review the speech between now and the ceremony and contact you for clarification. Dismissed.” Said the Captain, his voice and mind obviously absent, back into whatever troubled world it was that stole his smile.

After hearing the door seal behind her, Marie eagerly rushed to Jakob’s quarters. After knocking twice, she bounced excitedly in the hallway, despite appearing calm to an unfamiliar eye.

The first officer cracked the hatch and then swung it full open and cocked his head curiously. He motioned for her to enter and closed the door as she did. She stood there, rocking back and forth on her feet, still beaming. Finally Jakob asked, “Okay, what is it? We’re not due to receive a communications packet from home until we rejoin with the Hiro. Last time I saw you like that, you just became an aunt.”

“Look closer! And no, I’m not an aunt again… er, still.”

Jakob circled her curiously, speaking aloud, “Hm. I know it’s not a tattoo. I don’t see any piercings. Your hair is the same…” He then meandered over to his sea chest and extracted two more small vials. Unscrewing their seals, he said, “Congratulations! Welcome to the Commander’s club!”

They both smiled and drank.