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Humanity Ascendant (Admiral Hamilton POV)

I can hear the klaxon before I open my eyes to see my quarters painted in red. The sound creeping on a level that creates a sense of discomfort. No matter where you are on the ship the klaxon is most likely always a little bit too loud for your ears to adjust. It’s not good for the nerves but it wakes everyone up and keeps them on edge which I suppose is what they were going for. ‘Only the dead sleep here’ is a phrase the ensigns seem to keep passing around since the start of the morning drills.

I grasp for the bracelet on the bedside table and on its small screen I can see ‘Code 71-1’ meaning non-violent first contact. I relax but only slightly. The constant training during the transit towards The Alpha Signal beat into us how quickly a ‘-1’ can turn into a ‘-2’. I go to the walk-in closet and equip the under-clothes with practised speed and since this is an unknown situation I get to wear the armoured environment suit which I only had the privilege of wearing during bi-annual training.

Its base colour is a navy-blue matte with a silver trimming. It comes with the navy rank located on the shoulders and name engraved into the material on the front left. Just like the knights of medieval Europe it’s a bit cumbersome for one person to equip so technicians created a nifty wall mounted assembly. I step into the practised position and align my feet on the highlighted outline. As soon as I’m in position the hum of whirring machinery becomes audible. Just like that I hear a few loud clicks before is in place and I’m ready for action. I’m down the elevator in seconds and in the control room, one of the benefits and demerits of being needed at a moment’s notice.

I the elevator and the klaxon becomes noticeably muted as I stride towards the main console. As I take my seat the monitors in front of me are displaying a fragmented image of some furred creature standing in an upright position. I can hear varied noises which I’d take for some sort of language, but I have no hope of understanding that unaided. I look over to the far right of the control room to see a scientist in the usual getup.

White coated middle-aged man with visible grey streaks through his hair. He’s playing with some sort of device in his hands as he overlooks Ensign Camerons work on the communications array. They seem to be coordinating flawlessly and I see that to be true as I trace their activity. It’s fast work but seconds matter and our current situation demands immediacy. Civilians always seem to take their time no matter the situation.

“Get the damned thing working professor Watts” I bark through the two-way communication.

“Sir! It’s not an Earth based language, if you can keep them talking then the estimated time would be another 1 minute till basic communications can be established” came Watts measured and calm response.

I can almost respect that level of composure and I’m sure that was one of the factors that led to him being selected on this mission. But I too was selected and what is needed now is speed.

“If we can’t negotiate, you’ll have to refer to me as the first Fleet Admiral since World War 2. Captain Westfield!” I turn to my left and down a few steps from my position “Give me a status report!”.

Barely a second passes before his response came. “Admiral Hamilton, 200 marines ready for boarding, ships weaponry active, laser arrays have diverted energy from the engines, friendlies inbound ETA 30 minutes. The Skylark, Jefferson, Australis and, Vestfold have responded to the distress beacon and are manoeuvring according to procedures”. He says without skipping a beat. Good man.

“Captain get a few more Ensigns to assist Camerons on the visualisation of the signal. We’re dropping 76% of image transmissions.”

“On it Admiral”.

I focus back on front and take a hard stare over the men and women operating the Star-ships systems. Not a single one out of place. The sheer autonomy makes one feel almost redundant.

“Admiral!” Professor Watts called. “We’ve cracked the language and have finalised a basic translation. I’ll put you through but remember to use short clear words. No idioms, parables or additional fluff. There’s a five second delay that we can do nothing about unti-” He pauses as I raise a hand to interrupt him.

“Patch me through Watts”.

“Very well admiral. Signal handshake in 3. 2…” He tapers off as my helmet blocks all external noises in preparation. Then I get the green light that changed everything.

 


A Strange Situation (Captain Erent POV)

Of all the trade fleet zones in all the galaxies I get lost in the Outer-Reaches. A captain in all but name and I have the audacity to destroy my chances of joining the Union’s fleet. Legitimacy and fame a cargo run away! But that seems to matter a little less every cycle that passes. 30 days adrift and likely another 30 till the signal reaches back to Union’s command. Supplies have been rationed but it’ll be a close call even if the retrieval team leaves as soon as they receive the signal.

I have maps but maps don’t help if the Nav system isn’t grounded on the jump points. That doesn’t matter now though as the pulse radar catches a large vessel latched onto our distress beacon. It was a momentary relief when it was first located but that hope was quickly tempered as more information was displayed. An unknown Star Fleet Command Ship with no identification chip and it’s coming in fully armed. If this is a Pirate Vessel there will be no survivors.

If this is not a Pirate Vessel it is still unlikely that there will be any survivors. Funnily enough ships without identification are rarely good news. I give the command to divert power to our engines and disengage targeting systems. Running will only delay our defeat but fighting will end us immediately. I try and create a comm-link between us, but it seems like we can only broadcast at them at the moment.

“Greetings unknown vessel. I am Captain Erent assisting in cargo transit on contract by the Democratic Union of Council Space, please cease targeting of our vessel and identify” I say as sternly as I can manage with all the artificial bravado I can manage.

The silence was deafening, and I start to wonder if they are even receiving the transmission. I repeat myself a few times and get the same dreaded silence. We’re just two ships in the middle of nowhere and they have all the time in the world, and we have decidedly minutes before my crew, and I are floating in the vacuum of space.

“This is Captain Erent, the Union is willing to overlook any transgressions your crew may have committed in the past in exchange for escort to the core systems.”

It may be a lie, but they don’t need to know that. As soon as we’re in clear waters any vessel found to be used for the purpose of piracy would be decommissioned and likely recycled, but I digress. The crew would be imprisoned instead of the usual capital punishment. It’s still a good deal but far from what I just promised. If they knew it was a bluff or not, I could not tell from the continued silence. Out of the corner of my eye I see a few crew members speaking in whispers and others still I can see shivers and one seems to be sitting on the floor against the wall despondent. I’m just about to give up but then the comm-link finally connects.

The screen focuses on something within a full body suit of some kind. There are no known identifiers that can help me pinpoint which faction the ship and its occupants are from, but a few things catch my eye. The one that most interests me is the three hollow circles with a blue background. I’ve seen a few similar and of course they always usually represent colonised worlds. If it was only that then it would seem these individuals would only be a minor faction.

Below that however is another emblem with 56 stars in the top-left and thirteen stripes. That horrifies me to my core. 56 stars meaning 56 solar systems would be almost enough to rival the Union on its own. If I live long enough, I’ll have to ask what the stripes mean later. Another feature are the Runic symbols on his chest, most likely a name or rank but possibly decorative or something symbolic? Then I see its helmet, a giant shaded eye darkened to the point where I don’t know if it actually has an eye that large or it is just a shield designed to give a large amount of vision to the wearer. Whatever else there is to the suit it was clearly military by design and the guy occupying it was a big deal.

“Captain Erent. Disarm. Identify.” Stiff commands spoken mechanically with no correct inflections. It is a strange thing to have your language spoken so soullessly. It just seems so inherently wrong but no matter the feeling, it was progress.

“I am Captain Erent of the Democratic Union of Council Space Systems. Weapons are not targeting your vessel.” I say as calmly and clearly as possible. “I would like to request for you and your vessel to identify yourselves”.

Five seconds pass in silence and I continue to study this mysterious being who spoke so coldly.

“Acknowledged. I am Admiral Hamilton. Democratic Earth Systems. Explain signal. Communications difficult. Simplify response.” The voice was still unnervingly devoid of emotion, yet the intonations had improved marginally. As if it were actively learning the language at incredible speeds.

“Signal. Distress. Lost. Need help. Home.” Hopefully that is simple enough for them to not shoot us down. Then I notice that their weapons have disengaged active targeting and for the first time in a few hours I let go of a breath I never knew I was holding.

“Request maps. Help home if provided.”

I proceed to send a detailed mapping of the Outer-Reaches and the outskirts of the Core Worlds which should be all that’s necessary to get us back to safety.

“No. All maps.” Was the icy response.

It was not a debate that we would win in this condition, but I needed more information before handing out maps of the Core Worlds. I don’t know them but if it’s between my life and a few Union strategic locations then I’m going to choose my life every time. It’s not like these maps are a big secret as nearly all factions already have a fully mapped Nav unit anyway. I just need to write down a report before doing so otherwise I’ll get more chewed out.

“Why all maps?” I ask cautiously.

“To negotiate with the Democratic Union of Council Space. Power to make decisions. Peaceful mission.”

It was good enough and I beamed the maps of the Core Worlds. Then 4 more vessels appeared on the pulse radar. No identification ships and similar makeup to the Command Ship already in front of us. I think I just made a mistake.

“Explain more ships. Yours? Friendly?” I asked trying and failing to keep my voice even.

“Yes. Friendly. Democratic Union of Council Space located. Will lead Captain Erent to nearest administrative zone. Negotiate Council meeting at administrative zone. Disable unnecessary systems and fall into escort position at these coordinates. Thank you for your cooperation.”

I feel like I’ve been dismissed but I guess that was all I could hope for given the circumstance. At least my crew and I were no longer stranded and are safer than any cargo vessel ever has before. Unless they turn on us of course. Whatever, it’s not my problem now.

 


A World Turned Upside-Down (Art Ryte POV)

Walking down the markets has always felt like wandering into a different world. I’m not sure if it’s because there are many things from other worlds here or if it’s the people in various shapes, sizes and species that give the myriad of stores that extra spice that makes everything seem more colourful and alive. It’s a shame I don’t get to go here more often but my Mother doesn’t it like it when I stay here too long. I overheard her talking to dad about someone nasty from off-world trying to kidnap her but it seemed exaggerated. Probably some pervert trying to get in a touch before escaping local law enforcement. Scum but not dangerous beyond humiliation.

Still I get her point but losing all this beauty in exchange for a small amount of safety is always a hard pill for me to swallow. I stop to look at some pale orange spice that was grounded and formed into a pyramid. From what the vender said it’s a type of dust from a desert world that burns your tongue when you try to eat it. It’s a wonder why anyone would want to eat something like that but after assuring me that it wouldn’t actually hurt you, I decided to buy a small sample. Who knows, maybe I’m one of those crazy people who’d like it? You never know until you’ve tried it at least once right? I know one thing though, Mum’s gonna hate it to death.

She doesn’t even like her food warm let alone burny and stuff. I’m just outside my last stop before I head home and while that is disappointing in itself, I could never be disappointed by The Relic Store! So many gizmos and gadgets that do interesting and often pointless things! Mum says it’s a waste of Credits, but Dad has always said that learning is worth more than anything money can buy. I wish more people were like my Da. He used to be a pilot when he was younger. Started when he was just a year older than me! What a dream! I’d apply to the flight academy myself, but Mother said no, and I need two signatures from both parents to apply unless I’m 22 years old.

I wonder why Da settled here? He explored so many places when working in the Union Navy, but he decided to return home even though his parents were long gone. Maybe he missed them? I know I’d miss my Mum and Dad, so I guess that’d make sense. It would be sad to come home and no one was there. I should give him a big hug when I get back. I pick up a plane with a little wind up key on it’s back. I saw the owner play with a train one before but I wonder if this one’ll fly? I think I’ll get this one today! Even if it doesn’t fly it’ll still fit in perfectly on my shelf with it’s blue and green paint and it even comes with a little pilot already inside.

I’ll have to think of a name for it later. I take it to the front desk and Mr. Marshall is standing there like always. He looks a lot like my dad but instead of my dad having a black and white pattern Mr. Marshall has just white fur all over from what I can see. He has a bit of black on his pointed triangle ears on top of his head but I’m not sure about the rest of his body under his clothes. He always wears long-sleeves and long-pants with overalls. I think Da looks more handsome though, and it’s not just because I look just like him! I’m a girl after-all so we look nothing alike! Just the same fur pattern is all, stupid billy. I’ll show him who looks like a boy next time I see him.

I pay Mr. Marshall and he puts my plane in a neat looking wooden box. I run out the door to show Mum and Dad as soon as I can. I’m sure Mum would like the box! Then I hear something from really high above me. It’s much louder than the normal ships that come here so it must be someone really important passing by and only needing to stop to refuel or something. I heard from Da that this was only a small place so only one or two really big ships land every few years or so.

I take a look up and see if I can see them but what I saw was amazing! 5! count’em 5! Really big ships. Better yet I haven’t seen ships like these before. I’ve seen a lot of ships and my Da has shown me more from pictures he took while travelling! I know just about every ship there is, and this ship is not them! Others are looking up as well so it must be unusual to say the least. I wonder if Mum and Dad would be angry if I had a look at the people as they got out of the ship? It’s not even close to being dark yet and what if they’re just as weird as their ships? I wonder if they have any good stories to tell?

I’m sure the taverns are already getting prepared to accept them and others who want to meet them. Maybe I can even trade my plane for something they brought. I love this plane, but I think they might like it more. What if they come from a world where you can’t fly a plane? My Da once told me about a world that was completely underwater once. I suppose you don’t need to fly if you can swim! I’d better run though if I want a good spot. People are already going over to the space port. Can the space port even fit those 5 ships? I’d better go and find out!

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