[IC] Wayward Trident: Nemesis

[Dinh AaronMk]

Eos

A gentle warm light shone from the ceiling above. Looking up at it, Levi felt a light reminiscent of a sun's warmth. Though in it's pure yellow-white glow he realized that there wouldn't be any risk of skin-cancer sitting at the desk just underneath it. Looking down, he starred out over the empty office desk as he sat waiting through a window that looked out over the human capital city on the alien world of Eos. It was a world far-flung from what was Earth, or as he was told. Jutting up through even the heart of the old colonial city rose giant pillars of banded red and orange rock. The granite peaks were topped off at their crowns with a bushy head of scruffy green foliage and twisted trees with a bark resembling a sponge. Bulbous vines fell down the sides, but did nothing to reach the bottom of the truly monolithic columns.

The city itself – as far as he could see – was a organized network of grid-laid streets and aerial thoroughfares where autonomous taxis carted the citizens to and from their origin and their destination, and back again. Or to another destination as it could most often be. In parts there was a great uniformity of metallic structures that became a static-noise on the landscape. But brooding over these in others still rose great monolith pyramidal structures. Their size rendered black glass windows like particles of dust on their chrome, pillared faces of the greater structure. They were only visible from the different sheen they took compared against the more mirror-like face of the massive oligarchical offices that dotted the city landscape.

At each tip of these maybe dozen monoliths sat a crowning structure, each different from each other and each some chic recreation of something reminiscent of back home. Palatial mansions separated from the city and populace as a whole except through their strictly controlled airspace. This was clear from the wide area of emptiness that stood between them and the general traffic that littered the alien afternoon air.

To set the whole scene in scale, a giant freighter slipped gently by through the near distance. A spartan block of darkened metal with only structural features to cut up its bland appearance it parted the commuter traffic like Moses through the Red Sea. It was a true leviathan in the city's airspace, groaning as it gently hovered through the air on the way to the space-port not far from Levi's position. But even for its size it did not fill the window it was observed from. Easily, the pyramids behind it could even rise up over its visage as a taunting reminder of who were the lords here. And the natural pillars of rock and stone surpassed even those. It was a dramatic landscape cut in an even more dramatic world. A world that humans did not belong to, but regardless imposed their will on several times over.

Levi had seen greater modesty elsewhere.

Levi Baum himself was a middle-aged with a healthy criminal backstory. To have someone as wanted as he by the Space Police to be sitting in an office within their races' new homeworld was an astounding feet of fate to say the least. He was hardly unrecognizable either in the street.

Widely built with a once handsome face, he stood tall over most men. His hair was a waxy brown that rose in a half-tamed mottled nest atop his head, going every which way and that. A scar cut across his wide angular cheek bones from a knife-fight with another man. And an explosive accident while he himself was once in the military had claimed his right arm, which had long since been replaced by an acceptable prosthetic. Acceptable if because while it was not made to be dressed in human skin to hide the fact it all the same worked just as well, if not better.

Impatiently he tapped his fingers on the dark mahogany desk he sat waiting at. It was an old piece of furniture, probably imported from someone's private collection on Earth before it was destroyed long ago. It sported a highly polished surface which turned the rich wood an almost blood-red that reflected its surroundings with a mirror quality. Levi leaned over to look at himself, and to scratch at a red pimple that had sprouted up along the edge of his sharp curved nose. He worked at it with his prosthetic hand until it peeled away from his skin, and he scrapped the remains off underneath his chair.

He had been kept waiting in this office for awhile. He was sure at this point it was a ploy to enforce some sort of authority on the former military captain-gone-rogue. It wouldn't be hard to imagine, he was once kept waiting eight hours by his sector commander to personally deliver a report. Somehow this ploy suggested that higher men had a way with the lower ranks by suggesting their schedules did not revolve around them. It annoyed him, but he had become far too used to it to be angered by it anymore; even in the underworld pretentious men sometimes executed this tactic. It was really a miracle anything got done.

In his waiting, Levi had taken to examining the contents of the office. It was rich, well decorated. Not lavish like some he imagined would be. Especially on those islands perched atop those pyramids that he could see through the window, or so he imagined. There was a clock with a digital face, really more of a placard that hung on the wall to his left, slim and invisible with its nearly all-glass construction. There were also digital screens hanging on the wall showing rotating side-shows of people, places, and things. A computer screen so thin it was almost nonexistent hung in the corner playing a muted stream of news, Levi didn't care for it.

What he did care to eye greedily though was a small square disk that sat on the corner of the desk, perched atop a magazine-thin tablet computer. Almost hanging off the corner. His eyes had turned to that disc wondering what codes, or information it might have. Having long excused himself of legal civility he found himself holding back the urge to grab it and sneak it into one of his pockets. No one would know, it was for sure small enough it would be difficult to tell he had lifted anything, by the time they realized it was gone, he would have left.

He also hadn't signed any formal agreements that might possible cause a conflict of interest after.

That thought ended the silent debate and he leaned forward and swiftly 'borrowed' the forgotten diskette and slipped it into his pants pocket. Not more than several seconds after the door to the office opened up and in stepped a well suited, balding Caucasian man.

“Excuse me, Mr. Baum.” he spoke softly, like he was afraid to offend, “I've had a terribly busy schedule as of yet.”

“As I can imagine.” the pirate smiled, giving a polite smile as he dismissed his excuse. The man continued on as he took a seat.

“Our esteemed government has had its hands tied trying to wrangle the Nemesis issue and maintain peace and order,” he continued, “and trying to find a suitable officer to carry out its mission in its absence.”

“That's what I'm here about.” Levi said, his voice was calm with an air of confidence. Though there was a rough rattling deep down like loosened mechanical parts that vibrated just enough to be heard if one listened. He coughed lightly and he leaned in.

“Excuse me?” the man asked, almost absent-minded as he opened up the tablet computer, oblivious to the missing data disc that had been just there. Perhaps he didn't know he got it.

“The Nemesis.” Levi said, “I came here on appointment to discuss returning it.”

“Oh yes!” the man beamed, suddenly reminded, “That's right. Forgive me.” he murmured apologetically as the tablet booted and he punching away at holographic keys.

“So,” he began, “certain captains that were wanted by the state can find reprieve while on the hunt for The Nemesis, as I'm sure you were told. While you are on contract to seek the lost Battlecruiser you are temporarily forgiven of all crimes and illegal activities as you are wanted for, giving you legal immunity towards arrest so you can invest your resources and skills into finding and capturing the Nemesis.

“However, permanent forgiveness will not be offered until you actually return the Nemesis itself. The terms are very simple, are we clear?” he asked.

“We are certainly.” Levi confirmed, smiling, “Though if I'm to be of any worth on this mission then I'm going to require some information on Nemesis before I go after it.” he requested, “Certainly, going to steal-back something so unknown is a folly move.”

“Mhm,” the bureaucrat acknowledged weakly, “I can't rightly send you much, but I can send your ship's data-officer a relevant data-packet if it'll help you.” he offered diplomatically.

Levi was cynical immediately of the helpfulness of this, the way it was offered seemed prepared. Like whoever was charged in organizing this had anticipated it. There was no asking of what Levi wanted to see. It was much too straight to the point. Yet in the balding man's boyishly round face he imagined there was no argument of discussion of the fact, he beheld the captain – as much as the request – with a visibly stoic and unyielding expression. He had no choice as far as he could tell but to surrender to the fact. “It would be appreciated.” he said.

The man nodded his head, and punched in a few commands on his tablet. “Very well.” he said, “I just sent it to your ship, it'll be ready to read as soon as you leave.”

“Thank you.” Levi said.

“Beyond information, I am permitted to say we will be offering a limited amount of material help. If you need to restock on anything or to re-fuel, report to any sector commanders and offer them your service code. You'll be cleared to receive the necessary provisions to pursue and engage the Nemesis as deemed fit.”

“And those codes?”

“Will be sent to you as soon as you comply.” the bureaucrat acknowledged.

“I see. Do we get anything else from Eos?”

“Not unless we deem it fit.” answered the bureaucrat flatly. “If there are any changes we will contact you. Furthermore on this mission if you find any information that might lead to the possible location of the Nemesis, you are highly encouraged to send it to us immediately. Are we clear?”

“You are.” said Levi.

The man nodded, and turned the tablet around to him. The screen shone a simply black face with a round circle in the middle. “If you comply then simply press your thumb in the circle provided and be registered.” the man said as an order.

Levi nodded, and reached out to the screen. The circle glowed a bright iridescent blue as he was scanned. With a sing-song note it dinged like a chime on a microwave and it was done. The man turned the tablet around and said smiling, “Congratulation Mr. Baum, you are in the service of the Government of Eos. Good luck in the hunt.”

____________

Levi Baum stepped out into the hall, relieved to be back on his feet and on the move. Further, it didn't seem the missing disc had registered at all. But while he was done with the talks, starting up this job wasn't done yet. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a small microphone the size of a dime from the front pocket of his dull-orange vest and placed it into his ear. With the press of a button it hummed to life and he spoke. “Call Red.” he said into thin air.

The hallway he walked down was sterile and the air lingered with the subtle smell of sanitation. It was far too clean and there was an almost iodine-like taste in the back of his throat as he walked down the blue-carpeted halls. The walls themselves were a regular march of doors, mirrored surfaces, and television screens playing muted video and slide-show as sub-titles in three different languages flashed across the bottom and side of the screens. He could read two of them and he idly read a little of each as he walked by.

“Hey buddy, this is Red.” a voice spoke into his ear as clear as it would be if he was right next to it. It held a hopeful charm that sing-songed as it spoke.

“Red, you got a data packet in?” Levi asked as he walked over to the elevators.

“Sure did. Need me to open it?” he asked.

“Yeah, do so on the isolated network in case anything happens though.” Levi asked as he pushed a button, one that was so finely integrated into the wall it was camouflaged against the rest of the panel surface. If it wasn't for the “ground floor” writing above it then one would think there was nothing there. But a white fluorescent light glowed through the panel when it activated.

Opening something from Eos and the Oligarchs Levi felt would be the safest path of action when dealing with them. When he was a captain in planetary security it wasn't rare to carry out getting a suspect to download a worm inadvertently so they could spy on him. He assumed that the Oligarchs would be looking for a way to remotely monitor them.

“Done.” Red said through the headset.

“What's in it?” Levi asked.

“Am I looking for anything in particular?”

“Just the general content.” Levi said as he waited.

“Alright, give me a moment.” there was a pause that lasted several minutes, as it ended the elevator doors opened up and Levi stepped inside with a small blonde woman. “All read up.” Red said.

“Good, what's in it. Not much I guess, you didn't take long.” said Levi, jumping seamlessly to Vietnamese.

It was a very minority language now, and he doubted the office worker he shared the elevator ride with wouldn't know. Her quizzically confused look up at him only confirmed his suspicions.

It took Red a minute to re-adjust, but he managed to catch the language shift and decipher it. “It's basically a re-written version of the Eosian summons for captains to seek out the Nemesis.” he said, “Why do you ask?”

“Because I asked for information at the meeting.” Levi said, maintaining his Vietnamese, “The guy said he sent a packet in, I wanted to know what it was about. I didn't think he was up to arguing over specifics.”

“Well there's no specifics in here.” Red reported, “At best it says it's a ship far superior to any Battlecarrier we got. It doesn't provide an index or armament. It also gives us Admiral Iosif Vranas and his face, but I'm sure we all know that.

“At the end of the day, they gave us nothing.”

“As I suspected.” Levi said. It was probably the same thing they gave any would-be bounty-hunter. As he rode down he figured every would-be hick with a weapon on his ship would be off to Nuevo Arauco to pick up a trail. He turned to look out the glass siding of the elevator as he rode it down the outer edge of the office building.

The lower city rose up to meet him slowly. The offices were a massive affair, he wondered how much of it was for show. But the city around its base for more dressed up than the inner slums and residencies.

A huge square lay open below him, complete with parks that stood as islands among a sea of tile and white-cement, full of imported Earth flora. Fountains flowed into gently swept pools and ponds that shone in the alien sun. The details of store-fronts that look like from an Earth tourism catalog, complete with vibrantly colored awnings drew closer into view. In a way, and though he only knew it from old photos; it all felt strangely tropical, almost Caribbean, or Mediterranean down there. He couldn't place it, he continuously had the two archaic and now long-dead seas confused; he was much better with his stars and nebuleas.

“So we got a plan?” Red asked.

“I'm thinking about it. I'll get back on bored and cut ourselves adrift for a bit and I'll call a crew meeting and figure this shit out.” Levi responded, “Keep the coffee hot for me.”

[gorgenmast]

"The dereliction of a Fleet Command vessel is to be regarded as an extremely urgent affair... Because even the smallest combat vessels are armed with extremely lethal weaponry and/or sensitive content, every effort must be undertaken to ensure that a combat vessel or the weaponry, technology, or informatics aboard such a vessel do not fall into the wrong hands. In the event of the capture or dereliction of a Fleet Command starship, the OpCode Designation "Wayward Trident" is to be utilized. Such designation provides for the mobilization of all available naval assets to mitigate and ultimately neutralize any potential or perceived risk."

- Excerpt from the Eosian Fleet Command Officer's Handbook, Volume 3

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Yūrei drifted silently through the endless darkness of interstellar space. Light years from the glow of the nearest sun, her multifaceted, polygonal hull melted seamlessly with the void. Only the occasional flash of the strobe beacons scattered across her arrowhead-esque form or the glow of interior lighting of her bridge window gave any visible indication of her existence. Similarly, one would be hard pressed to detect her with all but the most sophisticated sensor arrays; as a standard Preamble-class stealth corvette, Yūrei's angular hull had been engineered to absorb and scatter radio pulses. In this remote and empty tract of space, Yūrei was nearly invisible - a ghost lurking in the emptiness.

Underneath the Yūrei's radio-dampening skin, Captain Hirnschall floated across the bridge, peering over the shoulders of the officers strapped into the seats of their terminals. He looked over the holoscreens of the crew as he drifted by, supervising their work as they diligently monitored the vessel's suite of ultra-sensitive sensors. He reached out to the backrest of one seat to halt his weightless flight across the bridge upon seeing something disagreeable on the screen of one of his greener crewmembers.

"Are you checking the KR array, ensign?" Hirnschall asked.

"Oh," the eyes of the technician widened upon hearing the captain's voice behind him. "N-no, sir. I'll do that now." The ensign's fingers flew across a holographic keypad suspended just beneath his palms and the screen refreshed with data points from a new sensor feed.

"Cycle through all of the K-series sensors at regular intervals." Hirnschall reminded. "I need eyes on every sensor feed every four minutes." With that, the corvette's captain shoved off the ensign's seat and launched himself back through the air.

Even if his crew carried out their duties flawlessly and didn't miss a single cycle, Hirnschall knew that it would almost certainly not amount to anything. In spite of keeping the artificial gravity off to minimize the ship's energy signature, going out to remote space to avoid the interference of stars, and all the other measures and precautions, the Yūrei's mission was almost impossible. Finding the Nemesis was like trying to find a needle in a haystack 500 light years across with the expectation that the needle is doing everything in its power to avoid being found.

Almost impossible, without question, but the possibility of getting a whiff of the Nemesis was still higher than one might initially expect. Humans had learned from the Vorqhul that the speed of light was not the end-all, be-all speed limit to the universe as they had believed for centuries. Humanity's alien foe had developed technologies capable of detecting exotic energies and particles that sent ripples through space and time that could be detected nigh-instantaneously. Using such techniques, an event that would take an observer 10 years to detect at the speed of light might be detected in minutes by observing such phantom energies. Thanks in large part to the treasure trove of Vorqhul technologies captured by Admiral Vranas from the Trojan, mankind had been able to crudely replicate the machines that allowed the Vorqhul to see and hear at superluminal speeds. Curiously enough, it might be the very technologies that Admiral Vranas recovered that amount to his undoing.

"I've got something!" A senior officer reported across the bridge. Captain Hirnschall immediately threw an arm out at an ensign's seat to halt his drift and directed his attention to the crewmember who had just spoken.

"Show me," the captain urgently commanded, "sync your feed with the main screen."

The officer did as commanded, and the main holoscreen at the front of the corvette's bridge refreshed and populated with a quivering graph display that showed rhythmic pulses that spiked up the graph's Y-axis at one second intervals.

"What sensor array is that coming off of?"

"Excuse me, sir," another officer interrupted, "but I'm picking up a similar sinusoid pulse on the K-alpha array. Signature checks out with what I'd expect from our target." Before long, three ensigns were reporting the same phenomenon occurring on their sensor readouts.

"I don't believe it," Hirnschall said under his breath. "That's a transponder; the transponder has been re-activated." The captain's disbelief was contagious. There was no celebration upon that their mission had been accomplished, as no one was yet satisfied that this was not some sort of error.

"Someone on the Nemesis made a colossal mistake, accidentally flipped its transponder back on?" An officer mused.

"Not a mistake," Hirnschall corrected as he shoved off from the bridge's floor to the captain's seat at the head of the bridge. "The Nemesis' crew is too well trained to make a blunder of that magnitude. I suspect we might be seeing a counter-mutiny - a crew member trying to call our attention to its location, something to that effect." Hirnschall threw himself into the captain's seat and pulled the restraints over his chest where the two buckles met with a satisfying metallic clack.

"Attempting to corroborate signal source and obtain a location," a navigations tech announced. "Standby."

On the bridge's primary holoscreen, a map comprised of white pinpricks manifested upon the screen - a star map generated by the Yūrei's navigation computers. The map zoomed in through nebulae and clouds of stars until it focused and enlarged on a single star system, which continued to expand until the onscreen map showed a pair of bright yellow stars pirouetting abount one another. The screen continued to zoom in, veering away from the binary star system and focusing on a single holographic planet orbiting the sister stars. The planet's holographic avatar spun slowly above the Yūrei's crew. Off the cloudy skin of the alien planet was a flashing blue dot that represented the source of the signals.

"What planet are we looking at?" Hirnschall demanded.

"One RV7S3-003," the navigations tech rattled off. "An unsurveyed terrestrial planet of binary system RV7S3... no records of surface survey. Last flyby was pre-war."

Suddenly, the black field of space of the holoscreen turned a threatening red hue, bathing the holograph of this uncharted alien world in a red light.

"Well no wonder," the navigations officer chimed in. "This star system is situated squarely in the middle of the Mutual Exclusion Zone."

"This is Admiral Vranas' doing." Captain Hirnschall muttered as he watched the star map zoom out to give a full view of the Mutual Exclusion Zone - shown on the map as a transparent red band that stretched across the stars and enveloped perhaps a dozen star systems. "He has turned on his transponder on purpose, to taunt us from the one place we cannot reach him."

"That system is only twelve light years from Vorqhul space," the navigations officer added. "I'm sure they're seeing the exact same thing we are. I'm certain I don't need to remind you that if the Vorqhul perceive this as a hostile move on our part-..."

"This could get ugly very fast." Hirnschall finished. "Naval Command needs to hear about this immediately. Zhou, what's the status is our displacement drive?"

"She's spooled and charged-up, sir!" an almond-eyed officer replied from across the bridge.

"Then let's pack it up, ladies and gentlemen," the Captain commanded as he entered the coordinates of the Eos System with the holographic keyboard floating beside his armrest. The starscape beyond the Yūrei's bridge window shifted as the corvette turned about to orient itself in the direction of mankind's homeworld. Captain Hirnschall and the rest of the crew were shoved against the back of their seats as the starship's thruster pods roared to life.

"All hands brace to jump."

With a second jolt, the starscape outside the bridge began to zoom outward as the Yūrei rocketed homeward at many times the speed of light.

[Chapatrap]

Fomoria

The terraformation of Fomoria had finished long ago but still, the small planet felt devoid of life. A dusting of grass and a breathable atmosphere had replaced the sandy karst that covered much of the planets only landmass, New Karelia. Terraforming was still a fledgling industry at the time, so the Eosians had left New Karelia as a blank slate, with only the bare necessities for human life present - air, water and any food they could muster together. No life had been discovered, so the humans brought their own - cattle, chickens, pigs, bees, dogs, cats and five species of birds were the only permitted animals. Land was parceled out to whoever wanted it and Fomoria saw large immigration from Europe, the old principle landmass of Earth. In particular, it became popular among the poorer regions of Europe - Finns, the Irish and the Welsh made up the bulk of early colonists.

The man sat across from Malachy was definitely of Fomorian Finn stock - his carefully spoken English, his dark hair and slightly folded eyes put him apart from the everyday Fomorian Finn. But that wasn't all that put him apart from the average Fomorian redneck. His suit was carefully ironed, his floppy hair was pushed from his face and the shuttle the pair were currently sat in was perhaps the sleekest on the planet. A kilometre above the planets surface, it lazily drifted towards the Fomorian capitol as the two men spoke.

"Captain Malachy, it has certainly been a pleasure travelling with you today. I am quite happy with your decision on this Nemesis matter" said Jouko, the politeness in his voice almost strained. Despite all his airs and graces, Jouko had a childish grin and a mischevious look in his eye, as if he had never truly grown up. "Aye" grunted Malachy in reply, scratching his beard in boredom. All this official business with politicians drove him to wits end. As much as he loved the planet, the inhabitants did annoy him.

He'd been finishing a week-long break with family when he'd gotten the call only two days before. The Fomorian Fleet was using the Virgin to assist in the hunt for the Nemesis. Jouko Pajala, a Fomorian politician and an ally of Malachy, had taken it upon himself to transport the Irish-Fomorian to and from the Fomorian Fleet Command, located deep within the continent. But Malachy knew the real reason why Jouko was being so helpful. Jouko represented a faction within local politics he had grown to dislike. Those who wanted autonomy from Eos but only for their own ends. Still, Malachy had been told by his friends to keep him at arms length. He could be useful in the future.

Jouko reached forward to press a button. A small screen appeared on the smooth, white tiles and the Oriental chauffeurs face appeared on it. "Hello, sir, I am hard at work, yes sir!" barked the chauffeur. "Very good, Hou. Where are we now?" said Jouko, ignoring the frantic button pushing of his driver in an attempt to look busy. "We approach Capitol in five-ten minutes, Mr. Pajala!" Jouko nodded, the same grin plastered to his face and pressed a button, making the screen disappear back into the wall.

"So, Malachy, I think now is time we discuss the real reason for this" said Jouko, switching to Finnish and leaning back into his seat. "I realise you can't speak my language very well, so I'll keep this short. In the fight for Fomorian independence, there are certain players who believe that physical force is necessary. As you see below you, hundreds of Eosian soldiers are currently suppressing a revolt among the people". Malachy glanced out his window and saw khaki-coloured patrol shuttles zoom past, probably off to suppress another revolt somewhere on the planet.

Jouko's Shuttle was nothing like the Eosian patrol shuttles. It was built for comfort and for an excuse to show others how rich he was. The insides were coated in a gaudy white leather and white touchscreen plastic, there was a small wine bar and he even had a personal Chinese chauffeur with the barest grasp of English. The shuttle was slowly gliding into the Capitol and Malachy could only wish it would go faster, if only so the constant Finnish drone across from him could be silenced.

"What I am saying is," continued Jouko. "I want you to take control of the Nemesis".

Malachy looked incredulous. "Are you having a laugh?" he replied in English, almost laughing himself. Jouko shook his head, a smirk on his lips. That had caught the captains attention. "Remember, Finnish" said Jouko, wagging a finger at the man twenty years his senior. "I'm sure a captain of your caliber can take it without issue". Malachy snorted with laughter. "You have seen my ship, aye? And you've seen the Nemesis? It can't be done" said Malachy, shaking his head with a smile around his lips. "Not literally, of course. I may be another bureaucrat to you, Captain Gallagher but I am not stupid. I do not expect anything less than the entire Eosian Navy to defeat, let alone take, Admiral Iosif Vranas and the Nemesis" he paused before continuing, as if considering the weight of what he was about to say. "My colleagues and I believe that having the Nemesis and the Admiral on the side of Fomoria would be extremely helpful to our cause."

Jouko's shuttle made a lazy turn and began into the Capitol city. It was early morning and the military-imposed curfew was still in effect, which meant the streets were empty. The Capitol of Fomoria looked more akin to a 21st-century Earth city than a 26th-century Eosian city. Large, blindingly-white skyscrapers, housing entire communities, rose up into the sky, probably the highest structures on the entire planet. Large screens projected onto the sides of these showed advertisements, news reports and even reflections of the shuttle as it flew past. Malachy sighed as he considered his options.

He was a captain in the Fomorian Fleet and more widely, the Eosian Navy and had been for almost fifteen years. Yet he'd seen his friends and brothers killed by the very men he now called his superiors. He was a man of Fomoria first and a man of the Eosian Federation second. Below him, Fomorians were being killed by Eosian drones and patrols for protesting and revolting. His friends, former men of the Fomorian Defence Navy and the current Fomorian Independence League, were reluctant to act with so many soldiers and drones patrolling the planet. But perhaps this Jouko fellow was onto something. Nobody knew where or why the Nemesis had escaped into deep space but perhaps this Admiral Vranas could be reasoned with.

Malachy finally tore his eyes away from the Capitol and looked at the Finn sat across from him. "Okay then. I'll see what I can do" he finally said, holding out a hand. Joukos face lit up and he shook his hand enthusiastically. "Of course, I don't expect you to find the Nemesis right away but as the captain of one of the best scouting ships in the Fleet - hell, the entire Navy! - I'm betting you'll make contact with the Admiral before the year is out! And don't worry, you shall be well rewarded if you bring the Nemesis to Fomoria!"

Malachy held a tight-lipped smile. He wasn't so sure about that.

[Inkdrop]

There was an alarm sounding. Felix grumbled in his sleep and rolled over. It kept sounding. He sat up and rubbed at his head, groaning. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He couldn't even hear the rasping of his stubble over that damned racket. Now that he is semi-conscious, he figures out that it is the high priority door chime.

The Rear Admiral stands up on his prosthetic leg and his real left one and hobbles over to violently jam down the rather iffy blue intercom button with his thumb and bellow, "WHAT IS IT?"

He recognizes the voice from the other side. Karten. He recognizes that voice from anywhere… her voice flows smoothly like any normal young woman’s, but there is a definite hint of a computerized speech processor under it all. She squawks, "Sir! Station Commander requests your presence in Briefing Room Three, on the double!"

It is hard even for a Rear Admiral like him, with his slumber interrupted, to stay angry at a little robotic raven with such comical ways of speaking. He chuckles and shook his head as he turns back to the small, Spartan cabin with metal walls and a tiny porthole. Most of this place is like this. All of the bare internal supports are visible, and he feels like this should be a fuel tank and not a bedroom… it works, well enough. Karten enters in a small dog-door like portal at the top of the main gateway at his invitation. The raven is a little larger than most organic members of her species but she is still hardly a burden as she settles upon his shoulder.

Karten is made of metal feathers and other parts, all of them intricately put together like a mechanical watch from the most skilled of watchmakers. Her body is in a shadowy finish with two eyes that glow like a nuclear reactor core. She also has a strangely cute little satellite dish protruding from between her eyes. It looks like a thimble mounted on a thin gooseneck stalk with a flagpole up the center. She uses this device tractor beam his toothbrush to his hand with an invisible beam. His hand tingles as he put it in the invisible beam, but he already knows there is no harm in interrupting the beam with flesh.

The Admiral grooms himself, as much as he cares to. He still looks like a teenager who just dragged himself out of his bed. There is a reason his hair is buzzed down to a blonde fuzz, and it is not regulations. Karten plays a part by beaming an instrument to him each time he holds his hand out, or by beaming one back to the metal counter. He rubs over his stubble and decides that does not need attention. Felix splashes some cool water on his face, much to his bird’s chagrin.

She even helps him dress from a perch across the room. The bird’s electronic eyes scanned and scientifically observed every imperfection in his uniform, and he does his best to correct them. Once he is done she flies over and uses her beak and tractor beam to smooth out any wrinkles that may bother her, and is rewarded with a little stroke on her head and a treat.

Now looking about as clean as he can manage with his less than stellar motivation levels, Felix sets out through the cramped corridors of Macedonia. What a weird thing this station is… it's a bastardized gothic look with metal in place of stone and transparent steel in place of the windows. The organic lights give off a sterile white glow that exterminates all shadows and makes his eyes hurt even after his long stay here. This place was supposed to be just a temporary staging post for fleets during the last big war, but it was kept in orbit, reinforced, and sloppily made into a refueling station. The hastily welded pipes splattered across the walls testifies to that.

Felix is here for literally no reason at all. He doesn’t know why he is stuck out in the ass end of nowhere or how long he will be out here. He returns the salutes given to him by the spectrally colored station crew as he squeezes past them with Karten ducking and squawking and flapping her wings as she does her best to stay on his shoulder. Thankfully the corridors clear as the fire alarm wakes itself up and begins that damned dinging noise. Even now he flinches every time he passes one of the hexagonal red devices which are mounted way too low and with their trombone shaped projectors conveniently at his ear level.

Aside from the occasional flinch as the ringing of a bell is rammed into his ear canal he stays stoic. Some sorry bastard would have to get his ship repainted is all that will probably happen. If it gets really bad, there might be a burial in space. This station might be a firetrap but it is tough and Felix has learned to ignore the many fire alarms over his week here.

He dodges the dashing ratings and eventually finds his way through the maze of decks, portals, and corridors to the big blast doors leading into Meeting Room 3. Felix stops as Karten flaps off, pecks the door chime a couple times, and then flaps back to his shoulder. The doors open with a strained, almost annoyed, electric whine.

He and Karten share a glance before stepping inside. The interior of the room is just as barren and Spartan as the rest of New Macedonia. It has the strange metal church style architecture. The same lack of shadows. It has the same smell, of processed and filtered air that was sterile yet full of chemical scents that would make an unaccustomed man gag. It sounds the same, with a faint electrical buzz of the always overburdened system, plus the sloshing and burbling of various caustic and carcinogenic liquids through the pipes like an ever-flowing brook. The normal meeting table is set up with a gaggle of strangers sitting around, save for a couple of faces Felix would rather have avoided seeing.

The Commander of the Fourth Eosian Fleet, Admiral Nernburg, sits smiling at Felix, like a predator knowing he is in control. He is an old man, at sixty one years old, and was starting to creep up on standard retirement age. He just... refuses to go, for some reason. He has no hair left. His eyebrows are thin and gray. Beneath those, both of his eyes are prosthetic copies. The way they glowed, like hot metal, gave it away. That, and the visible electronic circuitry in his irises. Otherwise, he is a tall, weather-beaten man, with many lines, winkles, and scars visible on what little skin is showing. Kind of like the stereotypical sailing captains of old.

Next to him is the Station CO herself, Commodore Nascha. She is a forty six year old Native American and often speaks in Apache just to screw with junior enlistees. He has fallen prey to that himself... she is skinny and built like a runner, with short black hair and powerful black eyes and skin tanned a golden brown. There are four others he does not know.

Jules Nernburg does not grant permission for Felix to sit or stand down from attention. He instead salutes lazily and asks in his thick Austrian accent, "Is it necessary to bring that damnable toy with you everywhere you go?"

Karten rawwked in protest. Felix scratches at her head and stands down from attention anyways as he shoots back, "She's a better assistant than the unweaned kits you send to me!"

The Admiral sighs and gestures to a chair. The four strangers are ignored, for now. RAd Nevermor slips elegantly into the chair and kicks back, with the raven perching on his shoulder hopping down and standing on the table. The Commodore does not say much and seems to be simply observing. The Commandant of the Fleet scratches at his bald head and then asks Nevermor, “Have you heard of the whole ordeal with the Nemesis, Rear Admiral?”

Felix says, "Yep. Somehow you lot lost a giant battleship with your most famous man on her.

The Admiral continues unperturbed, “She’s been sniffed out by a stealth frigate some light years away.” The Commodore chimes in now.

“That’s why you have been held out here for this time. This outpost is near the Vorqhul neutral zone.”

Felix frowns a little and tells them, “Well, that's great and all, I guess you guys finally did something, but I don’t have a ship. I like to think I am pretty strong but its not like I can swim out there and punch her.”

Jules speaks now. “We are aware, Rear Admiral. Hence why that unusually large ship parked here this morning.”

Felix blinks. “You want me to take a damned fuel barge out there? I thought ordered kamikaze attacks aren’t allowed?”

Jules set his jaw firmly, “Do you never look out a window? That is not the Shiak. That vessel is, in fact, the Ark Royal.”

Felix’s mouth drops open a little. His witty comment about the windows constantly being shuttered because of general alarms is forgotten. Karten pecks his temple and he blinks before babbling, “W-wait, the Royal? I. thought…”

The Commodore smirks as the grinning Jules says, “She’s been patched up and she is now under your command. And these four will be Captaining your escorts. Commander Dobrosława Sokoloff, or Debra…”

A young blonde woman is the one he points to. She is very young, with bright eyes bursting with energy and long blonde hair tightly woven and draped down her back. She sits rigidly in the chair with her harshly bordered but graceful and youthful round face displaying a happy and eager grin.”...Commander of the destroyer Fornax.” Debra nodded to Felix with a determined look upon her face.

Felix returns her nod, as Jules continues, “Commander Natalie Abel…”

Now he points to the young woman sitting next to Dobroslawa. She looks like a cat, with how her eye is always sizing up whatever she is looking at. It actually disturbs Felix a little. She has buzzed dark brown hair and one green eye with the other covered by an eye patch. She salutes Felix, and he again returns a nod. She has a more elongated head structure, and from what he could see, is much more lean and athletic looking than the stocky Debra. A cat versus a dog, he supposes.

Jules keeps talking, “...the Commander of the Ursa Major. Then we have the Commander of the Taurus, Jonathan Rack.”

This kid looks like he has come straight from a highschool football team, where he was the hotshot quarterback that got all the hot chicks. He does dip his head respectfully, but he looks so young… he even still has faint traces of acne on his angular face, which held his green eyes and closely-shaved ginger hair.

“...and finally, Captain Isaac Einfield, commanding the Orion.” There are a couple of odd things here. First, the Orion should be in a museum, and second, Isaac is a damned robot. His eyes glow an ember-like red, his skin is a gleaming metal like a battleship, and he looks like some kind of deer out of a cartoon. An elk, with the horns and all. Standing on two legs. An anthropomorphic robot elk would be captaining one of the oldest ships in active service. Isaac dipped his head, with his gleaming horns dipping and glinting in the light.

Felix likes to think of himself as progressive but he immediately bursts, “Wait a damned minute! Why are you letting some Disney animatronic pilot a floating rust bucket in my battle group?”

Isaac looks rather crestfallen. His head dipped further, but this was in a sorry way with his chin drooping and his eyes diverting downwards. The Commodore steps in now, “Rear Admiral Nevermor! You will observe the rules of nondiscrimination set forth in your command guidelines or you will be court-martialed and removed of command and rank pending investigation! Isaac is the latest in tech and he is just as, if not more capable, than any of us, and Orion has been inspected and cleared for a last flight. I know you’re one of those admirals who believes in old flesh and new metal but you will have to discard those damned old traditions if you want the chair next to me!” She sits down, muttering something in Apache that makes Debra and Isaac snigger like school children. Felix blushes and crosses his arms, accepting that humiliating defeat with a bite of his lip and cutting his losses by not saying anything further.

Jules’ face never changes. He just nods once and clears his throat, “Hm. Yes. Now that we have settled that matter, your ships are three of the Centauri class destroyers, and the last of the Bootis class cruiser. The Centauris are very capable and very modern vessels, Rear Admiral, and you should be proud to have them. They are good torpedo boats, and their guns can sting if they have to use them. And that Orion… she’s well into her twilight but she is still a mighty fine and proud ship, Rear Admiral. I have seen what happens to anything caught in her broadside, and it is an awe-inspiring sight. Let her go out in a way she deserves. And I do think you know your own ship so… your mission. I will let you have control on this one. Go out and find the Nemesis. Make sure that ship is destroyed… I would prefer it if you brought the traitor in charge back alive but as long as Iosif Vranas is neutralized, I and higher command will be satisfied.” He pauses, “Unless you have questions then you have free reign to hunt him down. We will provide any resources you request, to the best of our abilities.”

Felix just stands up, put on a crisp goose step, and salutes sharp-like. Jules and the Commodore do the same. He files out, and the other four Captains follow.

He sees his ship for the first time a few moments later, near the loading bays.

She is even bigger and badder than he thought. Especially comparing her to her escorts.

Now just to see if this would be his promotion or his fall from grace.

[Dinh AaronMk]

The Cumberland

Orbit above Eos

The Cumberland was a sizable, utilitarian craft from from to end. No effort had been made to make it beautiful at all, and the entirety of its warehouse scaled scope was not adorned to decorate it to any end. While it drifted in orbit above Eos it bathed itself in the strong light of the nearby star. Its sharped edges and industrially squared compartments cast sharp shadows along its thick armored hull as much as the light from the star cast other bits in such a strong light the entire craft glowed a deep threatening red. Though the Cumberland was a sterile industrial gray, the light of being in orbit withing a star-system none the less gave it a fierce fiery glow. The intensity of the effect was as if it was plummeting through an atmosphere and just beginning to glow with heat from the strong friction against its heavy metal skin.

As Levi's passenger shuttle labored closer the finer details of the Cumberland's construction came into clear view through the vacuum of alien space. The large pipes and ducts that hugged the outer shell of the Cumberland as well as the small slotted windows that showed an unfiltered yellow light from inside. Towards the rear massive engine thrusters extended out into space as the barrels of hidden weapons compartments built into the ship pointed out into the emptiness of space.

Eos itself lay behind Levi now, a great terrestrial orange and yellow ball adrift in space pitted with crater-like seas of green brackish water. Deep orange and red gorges cut the entire planet length-wise giving the impression it had been clawed by some angry god in a more ancient time. Humanity's signs were heavy all across the new home-world with cities and roads meticulously laid out with adept planning. It was all the more clear from space when the dark-side of the planet showed and where shone the blueish green lights of human development there. Levi felt no wonder for the planet, not in the way so many did when they had described Earth when it still existed. With the death of Earth Levi felt humanity and lost its home, all others had put on the impression of being impostors or temporary apartments for humanity's rent. But he still held the hope he may someday find himself a more permanent home. It just wasn't Eos, or CI-147e.

The shuttle docked with The Cumberland. A loud banging echoed through the still air of it as the connections were made and a loud hiss of roared between the two as an airlock was prepared. With a pneumatic groan the doors began to part before suddenly shooting open with a bang. A short corridor was opened between he, and the main body of the Cumberland.

The Cumberland itself was as beautiful and refined inside as it was outside. It held the same sort of depressing spartan atmosphere in its airlocks and hallways as it did in its outer hull. An oppressive industrialism ruled with brutal effectiveness inside it. And clustered with an array of pipes and cables from wall to ceiling the crew was forced to traverse its narrow hallways atop catwalks suspended just inches above additional cables that ran below the floor. There was attempt to sensitize the brutal misery of the halls through the years by installing white fiber-glass detailing that rounded out the corners of the hall where roof met the ceiling, and capped in the yellow fluorescent lights that gave the ship its warm glow. But a man passing from a more formal vessel or even a Eosian military vessel might be stricken by the derelict conditions that appeared to be The Cumberland itself. In fact walking through the ship, it would not be hard to imagine the government representative on Eos that Levi had met with would finding it impossible to believe such an ill fitted and ancient looking spacecraft as The Cumberland taking on the most refined and advanced vessel in their entire space force.

But then again, it hadn't been Levi's attention to fight Nemesis. A matter he grew more comfortable and confident in not doing as he went through. Still, assurances that they had received nothing to detail the Nemesis in way of armament, staff, equipment, and all other technical details bothered him and he knew he would need to make a sure and heavy detour from the expected course to determine what The Nemesis was.

Stopping in the hall, Levi came up to a door leading to an internal room. “CONFERENCE” the sign above it said, and then again repeated in Russian and Chinese; all the signage in the Cumberland was repeated in the same way. This would be where the crew waited to see what their captain had done, and he took a minute to collect himself and reached out to hit the button alongside it. With a click the lock was disengaged and the door slid open on oiled pneumatic rails.

The conference room was one of the more homely rooms on the Cumberland. The loose bundles of cables and exposed pipes and air ducts had been meticulously hidden by white fiber-glass panels that by now had begun to fade to an off color. Round tables and desks filled the floor all in orbit around a large central table; and each one of these were filled by expectant wide-eyed crewmen as they turned to greet Levi.

There was no formal greeting to the man as he walked down through an open aisle between the tables. No salutes, no bowing, nothing that would be expected aboard a formal shuttle. Each man greeted their captain with a greeting of him being an equal though, by silently nodding their heads in greeting at his passing and mumbling a respectful, “How ya' doing?” or “What's the news?”

The later Levi was to answer as he stepped up to the central table where his officers sat, but did not just take a seat, but climb aboard. The cowboy boots he wore over his feet clunked heavily as they carried him up atop the polished white metal table and he turned about to receive the entire room.

“You want the news?” he called out to the crew, holding out his hands.

“Hell yeah!” a man called out from somewhere in the back.

Levi's crew was a mismatched quilt and the complete puzzle of all of humanity's nonuniform pieces now that it had been thrown through the stars. His crew was white, it was black, it was as yellow as it was red and brown. There were women here as much as men and each regarded themselves no more equal to each other as Levi was considered in all but a few areas. They looked to be as much the same as the ship in the way they were a collection of odd parts and odds and ends scavenged from one end of the system to the other. It was what Levi called, “His art.”

“We are under the Eosian contract!” Levi declared, “For now, all of our passed crimes and transgressions against the oligarchs and their government have been excused. According to them, only permanent forgiveness will befall us when we return the Nemesis.”

There was a polite smattering of applause through the crew and more than a few tacit nods of approval. But Levi wasn't done and they knew that: “But I don't think that's enough.” he continued, “We good men desire more than simple forgiveness for our good, honorable enterprising. Our only transgression against them has been acting in the Oligarch's territory for our own survival. Doing what they had had an absolute monopoly on since the war with the Vorghul. We are free enterprise men, nothing else!”

He roared his words as if he were Caesar himself. He wasn't ever a statesman, or any sort of magistrate. Speach had not become expected of him but he had learned to give one as a commissioned officer and he learned to refine it through his pirate career to address his crew as not a superior, but as an equal. “I know this in all of us.” he continued, “We are dutiful, good, ultimately people without sin. We commit no universal evil that our friends in the High Pyramids do without guilt or fear of being indicted and found guilty of. And so be damned the man who thinks he can do one thing and others may not do themselves!

“No, forgiveness for acquiring the Nemesis is not what we deserve. What we deserve is a world of our own!” he stomped his boots on the table for emphasis. The crew applauded heavier, louder, “The Nemesis isn't just a means for us to buy our right to be free. We know the Oligarchs will only steal that from under that. I – we well know when we were to take this offer that in the end they will find a way to back-stab us or find some law or order we disobeyed for operating as free merchants. This we all know when we elected to take this up.

“So we are not capturing the Nemesis for them. We're capturing it for us.” he continued with a cheer, “And if the admiral in its command doesn't see it our way we will find a way to brush him aside and we shall take that warship as far as we can. We will have a free world my friends. We will have a world free of the tyranny of the Oligarchs! We will build a world where all free man will have sanctuary, where common enterprise will be free and moral. This is my goal, and that I am confident is all of ours. Are you with me?”

There was a loud cheer that bellowed through the chamber. But Levi wasn't appeased. “I didn't hear your enthusiasm!” he nearly screamed, his voice cracking as it rose. The crew answered with a louder cheer and applause. Boots pounded against the ground. Fists against the walls.

“I still didn't hear you!” Levi roared, his face beaming. His crew humored his demands and erupted to as loud as they can be until the tight chamber erupted in a deafening cheer and it shook so much that Levi was sure it was going to fall apart as the fasteners tore themselves apart and dropped panels and wire all about them. Laughing he clapped his hands together and in a celebratory end held out his hands and said with a smile, “Then let's get started!” he smiled, “To your stations!”

The crew whooped and hollered and filtered out excited and entirely amused with the ambitious spectacle. If they went cynical of the entire plot, they were dampened out by the rest who simply sought to do more of what they had always done.

“We should probably start plotting our moves.” an officer from below Levi spoke up. He turned to the source of the voice, a wiry haired woman with a small chest and a large head-full of curly black hair.

“I agree Carol.” Levi said, she was their navigating officer, “Right now set a course to get us to the edge of the system. Red, you and I need to go through our records.” he added, turning to a rather overweight looking Latino man seated on the other-side of the table.

He was younger looking than Carol, with a thin mop of frizzy coarse brown hair. He looked up at Levi with a brief lost look, but quickly figured out what was going on and his green eyes shown with brilliance. “Of course!” he said with excitement, “Meet me in data. I wanted to talk to you about what came in with the Eosian packets as well.”

“I bet they sent a worm?” Levi inquired.

Red bit his lip and nodded, “They did, but I got it isolated and it's not going to do anything. I went and ran another scan of our files just to make sure nothing else came up. But we can still search our databanks.”

“Excellent, I'll be with you in a minute. Go ahead and try to bring up as much of the information we have on known cruiser wrecks. I'll review them with you in a moment.”

“Absolutely, thank you.” Red nodded, and got up from his seat. He darted off through the emptying conference room. His nimbleness contrary to his otherwise awkward build.