Chapter Three
22 0 1
X
Reading Options
Font Size
A- 15px A+
Width
Reset
X
Table of Contents
Loading... please wait.

Admiral Fletcher was at his desk, as was far too often the case for his tastes these days. He’d been assigned the less than pleasant, but necessary task of reestablishing official contact with the frontier worlds. He supposed he shouldn’t be too dissatisfied with his work however. At least he wasn’t one of the poor sods attempting to reclaim the first colonies to fall.

The small planet his fleet was currently parked above was as close to a literal hell as you could get. Tectonically speaking, it was relatively stable, but it was very volcanically active. It was apparently a result of some quirk with it’s core. The various habitation domes strewn in loose clusters across the surface kept the population safe from the toxic atmosphere. This allowed them to mine the planet’s wealth of mineral resources in relative peace.

A lack of on-site manufacturing and the sudden loss of contact following the beginning of the First Contact war had left the colony in a pretty bad position. Everything was on the verge of breaking if it hadn’t already. The primary industry of mining had regressed to pickaxes and minecarts.

To top it off, corruption was rampant. The children of politicians and the upper class were given educational priority. They deliberately knee-capped themselves by denying their best and brightest a chance. The very people who could have brought the colony to prosperity were sent to the mines to cleave ore from stone for the entirety of their days.

Under the authority granted to him by the Grand Admiral of the Avalon fleet, he had arrested those involved with the corruption. He had then replaced the standing government with officers under his command. They would serve as a stopgap until The Avalon appointed a proper governor.

As for the scum he had collected, they would rot in his brig until he returned to the fleet proper. After that, their punishment was up to the Courts of Avalon and out of his hands which was fine by him. Less paperwork for him to deal with.

Moving on from his musings, he pulled up his next order of business on the terminal. Supply requisitions from the interim government he had just set up. He sighed at the extensive list of items that the colony needed to get back on its feet. It was all things that could eventually be provided, especially considering the sheer quantity of rare minerals that the planet would end up producing in the long term.

He was able to check off some things immediately. Hydroponics and life support systems were critical, and they had plenty of parts to spare. Pretty much everything else he wouldn’t be able to provide from his own fleet. He approved what he could and forwarded the rest. It would join the veritable mountain of reports to be loaded into the next communications drone.

Just as he was pulling up the next task, a notice of someone standing outside his door flared up in his vision. On instinct, he sent the mental command to open the door. His cybernetics would take care of the rest.

The door slid open as he dismissed the work on his screen, and he looked up at the officer entering the room. He recognized this one vaguely, he thought as he instinctively pulled up the woman’s records. His cybernetic’s scanned the chip in her wrist, bringing up relevant information in the corner of his vision.

“Lieutenant Jensen, what do you have for me?” he asked crisply, hoping desperately it was something that wasn’t more paperwork.

“Sir, the final batch of recruits is boarding their shuttles and will be joining the fleet shortly. The Captain requested that I inform you.”, the woman replied in a similarly crisp manner performing a perfect salute as she did so.

Admiral Fletcher dismissed her, sighing to himself after she left the room. More meat for the flesh mill that this war had become. Not that anyone could do anything about it. Humanity had to survive.

He pulled up the speech in his view as he exited his office into the adjoining quarters. He began changing into the freshly pressed dress uniform that had been laid out for him at some point.

As he put himself together, he reviewed the speech that he had already committed to memory. It was the typical dull drivel meant to inspire the common recruit while explaining nothing of the actual sacrifice they were making.

When had his life come to this point he wondered. He plucked men and women from their homeworlds like fruit. They were trained enough to be sent to the front lines to stem the tide of a foe that could not be bargained with. A foe that would like nothing more than to purge the Universe of all traces humanity ever even existed.

The worst part about it was the lies. The lies that he told these men and women. That there was hope that humanity could win. He sighed as he drove those thoughts from his mind. Now was not the time for doubt. He had his duty to Humanity to try, even if there was no hope that he could see.

While his mind had wandered his body had carried him through the motions of finding his way through the ship. He found himself in the conference room where his speech would be live broadcasted from, to every ship in his fleet. Every single recruit from that volcanic hell world would be lining up in formation now even as he straightened his tie one last time.

Admiral Fletcher took a deep breath before straightening himself up a bit more and giving a signal to the technician operating the holographic recorder.

***

Gus stood at ‘parade rest,’ as his instructors called it. He was lined up in one of the cargo bays of The Saratoga along with many other recruits aboard the ship. He was waiting for the Admiral to begin his speech to all the new recruits. Apparently, it had become a bit of a tradition for the Admiral to address the new Recruits once the last of them arrived.

Gus suddenly snapped to attention as he noticed the others around him stiffening up. At the head of the room a projection had appeared. It displayed a man who looked to be in his fifties. Deep lines had begun to carve valleys of stress and worry in his face. One eye was missing, replaced with a cybernetic equivalent. The light from the eye glowed a dull, but menacing red.

Before Gus could absorb more details about the man he began to speak:

It is with no small amount of pride that I welcome you all into the service of The Avalon Fleet this day. I have every faith in all of your abilities, your character, and your conviction to the cause.

Ah, the cause. That noble effort to preserve Humanity. The struggle against a hostile galaxy that would see us removed from existence. At every turn in our history, nature has sought to destroy us. And now the galaxy itself has provided a foe that seeks to exterminate us like insects. But as before, we will not go quietly into the dark.

We fight today in hopes of a better tomorrow. We fight for the very right to survive as a species. Every single one of you noble souls will be remembered. You will be remembered as one of those that, when Humanity was on the precipice, stood up and said, ‘Not Yet.’

The projection flickered out and an officer immediately began spewing out orders. Gus had no time to process what had just been said as he was immediately pushed forward into his new life.

1