On the ECW Trajectory's command deck, a barely controlled atmosphere of anticipation dominated the command crew's mood. Orbiting the outermost planet of the Sahel system, they had already dispatched eleven scouts deeper in-system, forty-eight standard hours ago, on assignments to pinpoint the source of Insurgent transmissions that were intercepted in recent weeks, originating from somewhere within this, previously thought uninhabited aside from automated survey probes, system. All encrypted, the Earth Conglomerate's intelligence agencies were hard at work attempting to decrypt them. At the same time, the battlecruiser Trajectory was dispatched, to conduct an intel-gathering operation. They were under orders not to engage, if any Insurgent forces were encountered, but to make every effort to avoid detection, and monitor enemy activity until reinforcements could be dispatched. To this end, the battlecruiser remained here, skulking in the mass-shadow of the outermost planet, running with most of it's systems in Gray mode, to minimise power emissions on any potential long-range EM scanner sweeps from deeper in-system. Meanwhile, remaining in stationary orbit over one of the planet's magnetic poles, would also hopefully insure reduced detection on short and mid-range tachyon scans. In theory, unless an enemy vessel literally stumbled across them close enough to make visual contact using navigational cameras, the Trajectory would be safe. In theory.
The problem with that theory was, that putting it in practice, required near-complete blindness and deafness, on the Trajectory's part, as well. Aside from short burst-transmissions from their scouts, they had no way of knowing what was happening beyond their own visual scans. All they could do, was sit and wait. And keep waiting, for the past two days, now.
All things being equal, Captain Reventon Alzer considered, rubbing his large hands as he shifted ever-so-slightly in the bridge command chair - his only outward sign of nervousness - he would have preferred a straighforward push into the system. Deploy the advance picket-line of fighter squadrons, followed by minesweeping units and Sentinel-class gunboats protecting them, with the Trajectory herself bringing up the rear, ready to provide pinpoint fire support with it's long range particle-wave cannons and antimatter missiles. Even if those Insurgent revolutionaries had a standing outpost set up, along with static defences and their own fighter screen - a straight fight would have been preferable to all this skulking around with an arm and a leg tied behind one's back. Preferable, and certainly easier on the nerves, of all twelve hundred crewmen, marines, and enlisted-men aboard his warship. But he had his orders from Earth Conglomerate Command.
"Bloody corporate board leadership and interest-groups... they can't even okay a standard sweep-and-clear op, without running the cost-benefit analysis first. I wouldn't be surprised if they just canceled this whole thing and sent us back to port, in case we do pick up something out here, on the excuse of 'inefficient allocation of military resources'. Rather then risk any losses and having to shell out money. Just leave the enemy to build up and fester, while we tuck our tail between our legs. Sometimes... I get the point of the Insurgency. For all it's authoritarianism, the ex-government at least got things done! These CEO's and paper pushers... all they care about is the bottom line, and public image. Still... they pay better, at least." - he thought privately.
"Sir! I've got the fuel consumption report, for the past six hours." - a youngish female lieutenant in her early 30's, spoke crisply, approaching from the side before she saluted, holding a padd in her hands, and offering it for his inspection.
Alzer chuckled, shaking out of his reverie. Routine reports hardly required one to present them in person, the terminal in front of his chair was working just fine, as was the intra-ship data network. The early middle-aged man gave the padd a perfunctory glance, fleeting over all the zeros and decimals displayed, as expected for a ship running on near-total standby, then put it aside, glancing up at the lean-looking, sporty brunette. His gaze momentarily paused on her nicely filled cleavage, making her duty uniform tight, in all the right places.
"Anni, you didn't come all the way up here from Systems Control, just to deliver a padd. Spit it out..." - he grinned, in a hushed tone, to keep any of the other crewers on the bridge overhearing.
None were in immediate earshot, as the bridge layout put most of them near the edges of it, manning their respective wall-terminals, and wearing headsets, but... it paid to be careful.
The woman stirred, the corners of her lips twitching into a smirk of her own, as she whispered...
"First name basis, Revvie? We're not off-duty for two more hours before the night shift! What if someone overhears... ?" - playfully, biting her lower lip slightly.
The kind of hooded gaze she gave him, implied plenty of... off-duty activity... between the two of them. Very unregulatory, of course; there were strict protocols regarding personal relationships between officers of different ranks... but that never stopped an ambitious officer looking to cut a few corners with usual advancement path, and sleep her way to the top. Especially one with Annike's attributes. Nor a captain receptive to those kinds of... off-channel overtures from subordinates. Annike Rand had started this tour of duty, as an ensign. That was three months ago. Two month ago, she was promoted to Lieutenant Junior Grade, before her full promotion to Lieutenant came, along with being put in charge of the entire Systems Control department, just a couple of weeks ago, before they departed for this assignment. Scuttlebutt on the ship was, that her rapid advancement in rank wasn't perhaps entirely because of her expertise at her job. Her being a competent officer and a decently skilled engineer, notwitshtanding. But again, nobody had any proof, least of all Alzer's XO or the rest of the command staff.
Alzer rolled his eyes in understated exasperation.
"Far as I'm concerned, we've been off-duty for the past two bloody days, sitting here with our thumbs up our asses counting the stars out there. You know, it's too bad protocol frowns on the command staff taking support craft out on missions - I'd have happily traded all this waiting for a pilot's seat in one of the scouts we sent out. Right now, those eleven pilots are the only ones earning their keep out here! Anyway... what's up?" - he prompted. Even with their off-duty fun, it wasn't usual for her to come up here with a routine report, during duty-hours. For one, she was as aware as him, of the need to minimise suspicion and not feed the rumours already circulating.
The woman turned serious again, the moment of levity passing. She leaned-in slightly, lowering her tone even further...
"I'm worried about Scout Seven, Revvie... he's the only one that didn't check-in, so far, during reception of the burst signals. Now I know that he doesn't have to, whichever scout is closest will relay the reports of the rest, but... I don't like it."
The captain had to rack his brain for a moment... scout Seven... eyes defocusing briefly, before he looked at her again.
"Ensign Skitt? If I'm not mistaken Anni, you two were among the transfers to my ship at Port Alphonse, right? You mentioned him before."
Annike hesitated briefly.
"Yeah, Ron Skitt. I... we... we were involved some years ago, and he kinda tagged along with me into the Corps. I went into the Engineering division, he became a pilot. Don't worry... that's long over!" - she hastened, noticing the sidelong look from him, before she added, "Between me and him, I mean. It just didnt' work out. But... he's still a friend, and he's not in the habit of keeping out of contact, when out on a mission! We got bursts coming in every 45 minutes, he should've found his slot by now, even by law of averages! A couple of 'em have been on multiple times, by now." - she hissed.
The man shook his head slightly, unconvinced.
"Maybe he was just further in-system then any of the rest, so far. Each of them was assigned a different sector to survey, and they're always shifting relative to our position, given the system's spatial movement. He'll check in, don't worry!" - trying to soothe her.
She scowled, but nodded reluctantly, shifting on her feet.
"I guess... any chance I can get an updated tactical operation map of their survey areas sent to my quarters when I get off-duty? Maybe I can work out when he'll be the closest one in range..." - she trailed off.
"You know that's not the protocol, TacOps maps are command staff eyes-only...", he started, but paused, noticing the pleading look in her eyes... "But ok. I'll bring it over myself when I get off. Least I can do, Anni." - he winked at her.
She winked back.
"I'll make it worth your while Revvie... promise!" - with another hooded gaze, before she glided off, towards the bridge elevator.
"What was all that about, sir?"
Alzer's XO asked, coming by a few moments later. While he was indeed out of earshot of the command chair, it was pretty hard not to notice the two of them talking in hushed tones like that.
"Nothing relevant, just an inquiry into the status of one of our scouts. Apparently he had failed to report-in, so far, during any of the burst updates. Lieutenant Rand is somewhat concerned, as he is an acquaintance." - Alzer replied, then added, on a sudden hunch. If this was indeed a hidden Insurgent operation, out here... and he just happened to be the only one not having reported in, yet...
"Pull up Ensign Ron Skitt's personnel file, and send it to my terminal. Including Conglomerate Internal Affairs records of his current and prior political affiliations."
"Problem, sir?" - the XO cocked his head.
"Possibly not. Just playing a hunch. Dismissed." - the graying man replied neutrally. The XO held his gaze briefly, then saluted, and walked off to do his bidding.
***
Two and a half hours later... Battlecruiser Trajectory's Officer Lounge, the 'Scapperia', deck sixteen
Her duty shift, Alpha, having ended half an hour ago, Lieutenant Annike Rand was trying to relax with a glass of synthetic brandy, a plate of chocolate cookies on the table in front of her. Usually she didnt go for one of the private booths on the second level of the Scapperia, preferring to mingle with the alpha shift crowd down at the bar and the dance floor.
She was usually the life of the party, after hours. Extroverted, even gregarious at times. And one hell of a dancer, given her coordination and limberness, especially breakdancing, often being the frontrunner in the impromptu contests organised occassionally. But not today.
The woman's short black hair was framing her vaguely Oriental-looking face, indicating some mixing of blood having occured at some point in her lineage, despite her otherwise Caucasian countenance. Only making her more appealing, to most men whose eye she tended to catch. Dressed in a tight blue sport top, emphasising her bountiful cleavage, and black gym slacks, revealing her toned flat midriff, she knew that Revvie preferred that look. He had a thing for sporty types, and Annike was about as sporty as one could get, in the officer ranks, without looking to the ship's Marine contingent. One of the reasons she caught his eye early on, after being transferred to the Trajectory.
Not from lack of trying, of course. She knew what she wanted, she saw the hidden looks the captain was giving her, and she sensed that trading... favours... would get her on a fast-track up the ranks, on this vessel. Anni was never one to miss opportunities that presented themselves, and fully comfortable using her looks for career advancement, when her engineering merits didn't suffice, ever since her earliest days in the Corps. No doubt some of her female colleagues would consider that 'whoring around', but in Annike's view, that was just jealousy talking. None of them had the kind of body she worked very hard to build. Also, she wasn't one to be overly concerned about propriety. She knew he was married. As long as he didn't seem to care, she didn't, either. After all, his wife was eleven or so light years away, back on Earth.
"C'mon... where are you, Revvie?" - she wondered, somewhat impatiently, munching on her fourth cookie. He commed her that he'd come to meet her here, at 11:30, half an hour after the shift end. Glancing at her chrono, she saw the time rapidly approaching 11:40.
Finally, the booth's doors chimed.
"Come." - she prompted, hastily sweeping off a few cookie-crumbs from her top, and rising from the sofa in a limber motion. The doors slid-open with a soft buzz, to admit Reventon's large frame. The man's expression however, was uncharacteristically gravely, as he entered. The fact that he was still in uniform, was even more so. Annike's smile died on her lips, as she noticed that expression. In his hands, there were two padds, instead of just one, that she expected. She bit her lip, ever so slightly.
"Interface: Command Override Alzer-221-Epsilon, disconnect audio transcription from this chamber." - were his first words, not even addressed to her.
"Voiceprint and code identified, Captain. Disconnecting per command override." - a monotone computer voice replied briefly. Annike's heart sank, ever-so-slightly. The command wasn't unusual, it was what kept their relationship from being discovered, after all - but his tone of voice was very different.
"I'm guessing this isn't going to end up with us jumping on each other, as usual? You're a bit overdressed for that." - she still tried a joke, flexing slightly, just to gauge his reaction.
The fact that his grave expression barely flickered, confirmed the notion. As did his words. He waited until the doors slid-shut and locked, behind, before he spoke again.
"Sit down, Lieutenant. We need to talk about Ensign Skitt." - tossing one of the two padds he held, on the table next to the bowl of cookies.
At this, Annike's heart sank a bit further, as she obeyed with a nod, reaching a hesitant hand to look at the padd. He watched, crossing his arms, as the woman's facial expression began turning. First from... troubled, to... disbelieving, to finally... borderline outraged, as she read the text on the padd - Ron Skitt's personnel file, Internal Affairs addendum. Way, way above her paygrade.
But for probably the N-th time, she was grateful for her tendency to cultivate... non conventional relationships... with her superiors. It made her privy to many things that weren't likely ever meant for her eyes and ears. Gritting her teeth, she slowly lifted her gaze, up to him, as she shoved the padd away, across the table from her.
"I can't accept this. I won't! This... this is NOT Ron, captain. He wouldn't... I knew him for... for--" - she was cut off, as he continued, "Six years and two months, Lieutenant. Give or take a week."
Annike rose, facing the captain squarely.
"Ron was a lot of things. Is. But he was never an Insurgent collaborator! He would've told me! He used to tell me everything! And even if it's true, it says right there, he was acquitted! How else would he have even ended up in the Corps? We both know they're not in the habit letting ex-Switchers in!" - using the slang term for Insurgent collaborators.
"True. Unless they got something to gain from it." - Reventon pointed out, voice hard. "Acquittal on charges of collaboration is rare, and normally only extended for specific reasons. Mostly to do with undercover work. And now he just happens to be the only scout we sent out, into a potentially Insurgent-controlled system, that hasn't reported in."
"You think he's on a secret assignment from IA?" - Rand asked, unnerved. She didn't like where the logic followed.
"That's one possiblity, Lieutenant." - Alzer growled, "But I would have been briefed on such assignments, as the ranking officer of an ECW vessel. It's standard protocol. Since I have not received any such briefings, we have to consider another possibility. He may be defecting to the enemy."
The woman swallowed hard.
"Sir... with all due respect, we don't even know if anything IS wrong. Like you said two hours ago, it may simply be a case of not getting a slot to report-in, yet." - she pressed.
He nodded, handing her the other padd.
"True. Which is the one reason I'm giving him the benefit of doubt. For now. Here's the TacOps map you wanted. Get whoever you need from SysCon, and extrapolate best potential insertion points for a stealth probe, that would allow us to get a tight-beam transmission to the scouts, without breaking comm blackout. I want more then burst packets, we need to know what's going on in there! Without breaking our cover out here."
Annike's mouth fell open, the engineer in her taking over...
"Sir... that's impossible on such a short notice! We'd need to do a full spatial triangulation scan of the system, just to predict the changing--" - she started, but was cut off.
"You'll have to make do with long-range scans we made on approach. We can't risk firing up the main sensor array out here, which could light us up like a Christmas tree on any tachyon sweeps from Insurgent listening posts inside the system. They could get a force out here to strike before we can even deploy a full fighter screen. And you know what that would mean for our survivability. Plus, if he IS defecting, he may have already blown our cover. For all I know right now, a strike force could already be on it's way!"
"Lieutenant, this ship can't operate on assumptions. You have thirty minutes to come up with a viable probe-path for a transmission, linked to bridge comms. If you can't, we're going in full-force. And if we do, I'm gonna have to make a command decision on what happens to our scouts. We won't be able to retrieve any of them, during combat, and they will likely be hunted down and destroyed by enemy forces. Including scout Seven." - Alzer finished, pinning his shipboard lover with a determined glare.
Annike Rand pursed her lips, taking a deep breath. But she understood the stakes, all right.
"Yes, sir. We'll do our best. And if this works out... if he checks out... I'll be very interested in having a personal discussion with Ensign Skitt. One seemingly long overdue." - she growled under her breath, spinning on her heel and heading for the door. Before she pressed the open panel, she hesitated... turning her head partway around.
"Sir... if this all works, if he checks out... can you please not bring up his prior - association - with the Insurgency? At least not before I talk to him? If he really is acquitted on his own merit, there's no need to bring it up officially, is there? No need to lay the stigma of it down on him, with the crew. You and I know how rumours can spread, right?"
Alzer nodded.
"If he checks out... I promise. I see no reason to stir the pot. Such IA files are classified for a reason, after all. But I felt you had the right to know, Anni. Being his friend and all." - warmly, before he added, more firmly,
"But I will want to get to the bottom of this. Because like I said, acquittals for collaboration aren't just handed out. If he is an undercover operative, I want to know. And if they put him aboard my ship without briefing me, which now seems likely, someone in IA is gonna have some explaining to do. One way or another." - he finished darkly.
"You and me both, Captain." - the woman agreed, before she stepped out, to carry out her assignment.
Leaving Alzer alone in the booth. He took a cookie absently, contemplating the possible outcomes. Shaking his head to himself, he finally left for the bridge. Even if it meant he'd be pulling double-duty tonight, one way or another, the sit-and-wait period was over. They will find out what's going on in the Sahel system. And possibly root out a poisoned tree in their garden. Possibly.
***
Midway up the turboshaft to the Bridge, his comms unit suddenly chirped with an emergency-override transmission from his XO:
"Battle Alert! Sir, we've got incoming contacts rounding the terminator line of the planet! Just entering visual-scan range! Preliminary ident... Insurgent Veritrax-class fighters! At least three squadrons, possibly more, followed by what look like unidentified gunship-class vessels."
Alzer's heart sank percipitously. Just once in a while, he would've preferred his hunches to be wrong. Just ONCE. As he started barking orders in rapid fire professional urgency, powering up all systems, readying his ship and crew for an inevitable battle, and possibly repelling boarding actions, knowing full well that having been caught off guard like this, they would be on a back foot... an errant thought flashed.
"Not possibly... definitely."
If they survived the next hour, that is.
THE END
