A ship’s distress signal is no problem, they go off all the time. From many different causes such as but not limited to: Piracy, black holes, mutiny, asteroid collision, and even a simple disease, maybe sometimes not even a life threatening one. It’s rare that it will be worth the resources required to retrieve them but there is the Unions image to look out for. You see it’s easy politically to spin the “no man left behind” speech before realising how bad it is for the budget commitments required to make this project a reality.
It’s another matter entirely to fund that policy to the point that makes it effective. So, there I was stuck with a shoestring budget running in-depth analysis on who I can save without compromising the whole fucking program. I had 15 frigates filled to the brim with long-life rations and a mere skeleton crew of 100 per ship to serve a union running upwards of 25 sectors and counting due to colonisation. Guess what? Fuck the colonies! You go off into the expanse and get into trouble it’s your own damn fault for fucking up.
The closer you are to the core of the Union the more likely to be saved you are. Simple as that. So, when a distress signal goes off outside of known space in the middle of nowhere, I ignored it. You know? Like any sane person would. Who cares if it was military, they have their own resources to manage their own shit. Who trusts a random privateer with a military contract anyway? That’s just asking for trouble.
But now look at this mess… A whole planet went dark and the planetary distress barely made it here before it was cut off. Administrative zone 103536 was a dirt rock barely worth maintaining but I just knew I was gonna catch the blame for losing it. I mean it couldn’t be the responsibility of the fucking politician in charge of the sector could it? It has to be me! The only guy who could possible manage this department and the only one who’ll be thrown to the wolves!
I can hear the inquisition with their long-winded speech about how awful I am and how I, the root of all evil, doomed a planet due to MY selfish actions. Now, I could maybe take a few down with me. I’m sure that sector government has his enemies that would jump at the chance of burying their political rival but that doesn’t save me in the least. What are a few less burns when your head has been cut off? No. If I’m getting out of this mess it’ll have to be because there were no records of distress coming from the ship in the first place.
A whole planet went dark and the signal was stifled so why not have the ship receive a similar fate? I’ll have to report the planet going dark but that is just a spontaneous and unpredictable event with no forewarning at all. Nothing that can be pinned on me anyway. So that’s what I did. I removed records, edited files and damaged the systems timestamps. It’s a shame since the repairs will have to come out of the budget but at least I’d still be there to manage the budget... Not.
I went to the communications array and prepared my report. I told half-truths and whispered bitter-sweet tales of how I heroically jumped into action as soon as the planet went dark. How a signal reported a hostile take-over and how only through my effort were we able to retrieve such a deteriorated signal in the first place. I recommended military intervention because I’ll be damned before spending any more money on some worthless rock. Who knows? maybe I’ll even get increased funding or at the very least forgotten again right? No because fuck me, I guess!
I’ve been motherfucking drafted into the motherfucking military as a motherfucking specialist. I’m currently on a cruiser at the head of an armada to save the dirt rock with barely enough resources to scrape together a working fuel refinery. For what? A medal that’ll rust? A promotion in name only? I’m retiring as soon as this madness is over. Maybe I’ll stay on the dirt rock and live the rest of my life as a hero and never have to deal with this bureaucratic nightmare again.
I look left and right and all I see are kids running around like the world is on fire. Children barely of age from poor planets just like the one we’re going to. Likely volunteered for duty as soon as they could and some probably a bit younger than that. It’s like a day-care and I’m the only one with any management skills. They say the military is a meritocratic organisation, but I beg to fucking differ. The captain of this vessel is being pampered like he’s on a cruise ship and left incompetent ass-kissers in charge of the ‘little things’.
The result is just a sad mess. I’m surprised they even got this hunk of junk off the ground, but I suppose basic training did beat some sense in the plebeians that actually had to take it instead of having their daddies coddle and bribe their way into officer school. The officers aren’t even leaving their meeting room. I just see privates running in and out of the room delivering orders like old fashioned messengers of old. We have a fucking working Comm-Unit so why not fucking use it? I’ve had enough. I see an opening and I take it.
“Guess where I am privileged fucks! I’m in the security room and now you’re trapped in your gilded cages.” I say out loud to no one. Because who would put more than one person on security duty? Not these rich assholes.
With that dealt with I go for the unused Comm-unit, “This is Commodore Arman Jenair. It has come to my attention that Captain Lynes and his direct officers have become incapable of command. I am therefore an acting Captain of this vessel effective immediately due to the severity of our mission.” I look on the security feeds and find absolutely no loyalty has been installed in the crew as they carry on about their business as if this is a regular occurrence.
“Over the course of the next 10 minutes I will be issuing instructions through the Comm-Unit and then will proceed to the Command Centre. As for this mission, I expect the best from the soldiers under my command. We are going into the unknown with no idea what we’ll find there. But, remember this. There are people on that planet that need your help. They are friends, families, and neighbours to us all. We are there final hope and we will not fail them. We have work to do. Dismissed.” I say with false bravado and gruff voice.
I issue commands to get things streamlined and get resources where they are supposed to be. It takes only 9 minutes to get everything into decent order. I issue a command for five Privates with basic security training to take over security duties but not before I disabled the cameras to the Captain’s quarters and the Officer’s meeting room. Idiots still thought they were in command and didn’t even realise how fucked they were. Good riddens.
I walked down the halls with unfelt confidence and received salutes from every Recruit, Private and Cleaning crew I walked by before making it to the Bridge. The command centre is where the only people who could have recognised the hostile takeover as what it was, but it was business as usual.
I took my seat in the gaudy looking overpriced waste of space of a command chair and overlooked my work. The ship was still a goddamned mess but at least it looks like a day-care with the kids playing a constructive game. Now for the difficult part. Convincing the adults that while I don’t have the qualifications necessary for the childcare centre, I am the only one left capable of watching the kids.
“Patch me through to the Admiral.” I say while typing out the command and sending it directly as sometimes people just don’t listen to you.
“Yes sir!” Came the excited and chipper reply.
I remember the enjoyment of youth. This guys probably excited to actually be used for once and not just stare at the wall watching rust form. I hear a clear click and my screen indicates that I’ve been patched through. I just have to wait for the Admiral to speak first. Respectful or something, I don’t know. All I know about the military when it comes to senior officers is that you speak when spoken to or get chewed out.
“Commodore Jenair, would you kindly explain why you are currently in control of the Cruiser Lightwing and not Captain Lynes?” He asked pissed off and fully ready to explode.
“I have taken the temporary rank of acting Captain in accordance to military code regarding the inability of a senior officer to conduct active duty. As I am the next in commands line of succession it is my responsibility to notify you of the reasons for the inability of my senior officer and request permission to continue to operate in my acting assignment. Sir.” I say with the sincerity of a man on death row.
“Very well. I recognise your previous achievements as a Union Space Emergency and Rescue Commander but if the explanation is unsatisfactory, I will be forced to resort to issue a military tribunal. Proceed.” He replies less angry but the edge clearly evident in his voice. Truly a man used to bullshit.
“Captain Lynes has retreated to his quarters in which he has refused requests to unlock the door and return to command. He has also denied access to further communications forwarded to the quarters. He left his senior offices in-charge of the routine functions of this vessel yet I’m afraid to say that they’ve rendered themselves unfit for command due to excessive amounts of alcoholic beverages and are currently asleep or within the medical bay. I had no choice but to take command, sir.” I say loud enough for most people on the bridge to hear.
Rumours about locked doors would spread and now the flame has fuel to burn and the smoke should head in the right direction. To the Admirals credit he didn’t react too shocked at the news but whether that is from a lifetime career in the military or due to the Captain’s poor reputation I’ll never know.
“Granted. As of now I recognise your temporary position as Captain Jenair. Captain Lynes and the unorderly Officers under his command will temporarily have their ranks suspended and as soon as they are able to be moved, they are to be confined in the brig until such a time as a tribunal can be undertaken.” He stares piercingly into my very soul as he utters his next words, “Congratulations Captain, I expect the best from someone in your position. Do not disappoint me.” The connection cut without giving me time to respond.
I Just jumped multiple ranks in one night. From Commander of an obscure no budget shithole to Captain. A lifetime of climbing the ladder just handed to me on a silver platter. well shit. Now I have to take care of a ship that is literally falling apart from neglect and survive an Admiral that is obviously displeased with the situation. I just kicked an ant’s nest trying to run away from a firestorm only to find out the ant’s venom feels like knives stabbing me repetitively.
It’s like Lucien always told me, ‘it’s not gonna be someone else’s incompetence that kills you dumbass, it’s gonna be your own competence’. Fucking Bitch. I miss her dearly. But maybe I can make you proud one last time. One last display of stupidity that’ll let me hear your laughter one last time.
I’m no hero but I’ll be damned if I’m not in control at the end. I know what a dark planet usually means. I’ve read the records; I’ve heard the stories. A dark planet is an invasion and invasions are rarely on accident. All that’s left is to find out who has the balls to take on the Union. That’s why we’re here. The expendables, the old outclassed, falling apart ships filled to the brim with new recruits and useless officers sentenced to death. But hey we could be wrong right.
A spontaneous black hole is still in the cards and maybe a Pirate fleet would be the only thing we find if we’re lucky. I fucking hate going in dark. Just when I’m thinking dark thought’s I hear an incoming transmission from our destination. It’s damn stronger than the planetary distress signal and might even reach back to the Citadel given enough time.
“Quickly now! Check the signal and issue a playback on my monitor!” I yell over the chairs Communication line to the array rooms.
“Yes sir. Signal captured, Isolation successful. I’m issuing the playback command.”
“Set it up on my display only and pass the decoded visuals along to the Admiral.
“Yes sir.”
I turn my attention to the display screen in front of me and the signal plays its message.
'To the Democratic Union of Council Space,
I offer you condolences for the citizens lost on what you have called Administration Zone #103536. It is unfortunate but our arrival was met with fear and hostility by the planet’s populations and therefore for both their protection and our own we have been forced to enact martial law. I understand that this may be perceived as a hostile action by the Union but as representatives of Humanity and its Systems we have not mistreated nor denied essential requirements for the lawful citizens under our protection. Due to this planet’s benign neglect and isolation we have taken it upon ourselves to uplift the technologically deficient facilities and have rebuilt destroyed facilities and housing. As this was a considerable investment A negotiation must be undertaken in the purchase of the planet and its inhabitants unless the government of Humanity is reimbursed in full. If you decide to sell, I trust that I can provide a lump sum of precious materials that more than covers the planets worth. I believe it is in both of our best interests to remove potential for hostilities as we have wanted from the beginning. Let us grow from our past mistakes and form a united future as partners instead of enemies of circumstance which would be regretful.
Kind regards, Admiral Hamilton.'
Humanity… A new species. Coming from unknown space and seemingly already know who we are. They’re fucking fucking with us too. You don’t ghost a planet in the name of peace and then upgrade the facilities out of the kindness of your heart. You fortify your position and build up strength before you can push again. This message is filled wit vague threats and ridicule and spoken in a soulless robotic voice. The speed at which they took the planet and the suppression of the population most likely mean that they’re already entrenched.
How many ships they have and what kind of defences they’ve built are as mysterious as what they actually look like. Fuck, maybe the Council would even sell that floating dirt rock just to get more intel on the invaders. Anyway, you slice it, it looks grim for the native population. While I await orders from the Admiral, I go through memories of the last time another species was discovered. It was the Niashen and they weren’t even space-faring when they were found hiding beneath their sand covered desert of a planet.
I suppose living underground because the sun would literally cook them if they went outside wasn’t the best sandbox to encourage looking up at the sky and wondering how to get up there. Anyway, they were technologically uplifted and introduced as a partial member of the Union as one of their satellite vassals.
Now in comes a stranger from the outside and they go and do the same to us. We colonised those Reptilians piece by godforsaken piece while we played them against each other. Until we had so much of their planet they couldn’t resist. They can’t even choose their own Sector Representative. They get assigned one by a Council vote which they also can’t participate in. The facilities aren’t even that out of date. Maybe 50 years which is more than most out here in the Outer planets in the Union.
“Captain. We have instructions from the Admiral. We are to proceed on present course and prepare for a planetary blockade.”
“Send a message in reply that I have received and understood that command.” I turn away from him and switch over the communication channel to the security team. “Initiate a general knockout in the officers meeting room then collect them and bring them to the rig. Leave Mr. Lynes in his room. Though notify me should he attempt to leave his confinement.” I say with true regret dripping from my voice.
It’s all become a headache to be honest. I feel like I’ve been dragged from one situation to the next with no respite and my back is killing me over it. A comfortable bed and a nice drink would be a dream but guess what shit-for-brains, you just imprisoned a senior officer for doing the exact same thing. So, I shall sit and suffer and look the part of a leader contemplating their next move. Because I’m out of tricks and I’m sick of bluffing. These soldiers may be children but now they are mine and I will see that they either make it home or get the good quick death full of honour on the battlefield because I may not be a hero, but I’ll die pretending to be one. Fucking politicians.
