FEDERATION MORNING
FEDERATION MORNING
An exercise in resurrecting Star Ocean: The Second Story for all you young whippersnappers, as brought to you by khaki knight.
Disclaimer: Star Ocean and characters, related ideas, etc. are the legal property of tri-Ace/Square-Enix. Characters, etc. are only borrowed for what I hope will be entertainment purposes. Also, the closest I've come to making money with this thing is thinking about it at work, and the project itself is 100 profit free – honest! This disclaimer applies to the entire work. Insert more legal jargon here if it will keep me from facing a lawsuit. Pear into peaches!
OOO
PRELUDE: CRISIS MANAGEMENT
October 10th, 366 SD
1213 EST (earth standard time)
EFS Arbiter, 6 days out from the Ark System
Admiral William G. Tilgrem, EFS Arbiter, had seen better days.
He knew this fact as well as he knew his reflection, he mused as he looked out the view port in his ready room. His reflection stared back—that same solidly built frame with perhaps a little bit more paunch in the gut than he would have liked, same balding sandy brown hair and bushy beard—impassive but with a hint of frustration just welling under the surface.
Just last week, for example—those had been better days. Then, he was still quite contentedly on a long-over due vacation on Iridian VI. It was an altogether nice little resort planet, even if it had only been terraformed and settled in the last ten years. There, he had nothing but relaxing mornings on the beach with his wife, and evenings in the bungalow watching the World Series. It was nice to remember that there were things in life besides fleet maneuvers and after-action reports; it was nice to relax without the burdens of command wearing him down.
(Speaking of the World Series, the Chicago Cubs led the series 3-1 over the Phobos Mistwalkers. All the odds makers had the Cubs winning in five—most people, in fact, were already saying it would be another generation before a Mars team could take the pennant. Tilgrem, though, still had faith that the Mistwalkers could come back in the last three games.)
His vacation had been so relaxing, in fact, that he had actually been asleep when the message had come in. His wife woke him up, and he was just able to blearily make out a rumpled junior officer across the comm. Admiral Tilgrem even remembered what his first words to the officer were: "This better be very important, Lieutenant."
It was... It was all too important. 'The Calnus has been destroyed," the shell-shocked officer had reported without preamble in a dead tone. "All hands—including Admiral Kenni—lost."
That ended his vacation.
He had digested this news in his bathrobe, his wife already asleep again in the other room. The Calnus had, under Admiral Kenni's orders, deviated—rather, delayed for nearly a month—from its original survey course, remaining in the Ark system. Admiral Kenni had apparently looking for a missing crewmember, or so had said the last report to FleetCom from the Calnus.
The Calnus never reported in after that—no distress signal, but no contact either. After a few weeks, FleetCom had dispatched the EFS Hornet to check on the errant Calnus. And that's when they had discovered the ruins of a combat explorer near the edge of the Ark system...
For the time being, the Calnus' destruction was being kept under wraps; the loss of a war hero like Admiral Ronixis Kenni was massive blow, especially with rumors of Lesonia rearming. Only a few ships were being dispatched to investigate the mysterious circumstances of the ship's destruction.
And so it was that within hours Admiral Tilgrem had caught a shuttle back to Earth and was on the bridge of his flagship, the EFS Arbiter, headed to the quiet and altogether desolate corner of the Ark system were Admiral Kenni... The entire way there, Tilgrem had been haunted with images of his departed friend. The two of them had met during their academy days (back when they were simply Will and Roni), and had been close ever since. It was hard to imagine ever-serious Ronixis dead, and they say his son had just been assigned to his command and—
I've definitely seen better days, Tilgrem reflected, as the Arbiter slipped quietly through space.
OOO
October 16th, 366 SD
0825 EST (earth standard time)
EFS Arbiter, in orbit around Ark III
The admiral was on the bridge as the Arbiter pulled into orbit around Ark III (the only habitable planet in the system). The deceptively peaceful green planet—its yellow primary star hanging far back behind it—seemed to be a crude counterpoint to the... unfortunate news that had called Tilgrem and the Arbiter to the region.
His communication officer turned back to face him. "Admiral, Captain Fillmore of the Independence, and Captain Hayden of the Hornet are both hailing us."
The admiral nodded. "Onscreen."
The main screen's image of Ark III vanished and was replaced with a split screen of a tired looking black man with a large mustache—Captain Fillmore—and a petite woman with blonde hair—Captain Hayden. "Admiral," Captain Fillmore began, nodding. "It's good to see you, sir."
Captain Hayden, looking wan, nodded as well. "Admiral," she said simply. Her expression looked preoccupied.
Admiral Tilgrem nodded back. "Were it only under better conditions... What have you found?"
"Nothing's making sense, sir," Captain Fillmore began. "We've found the... wreckage, but the damage is like nothing we've ever seen before. Captain Hayden and the Hornet have been running non-stop scans, and if their analysis is correct..."
"Go on," Tilgrem prompted.
Captain Hayden's expression still hadn't cleared. "Perhaps, Admiral Tilgrem, it would be better if you saw the data for yourself, sir," she finally offered. Tilgrem nodded, and Hayden keyed something into the arm of her command chair.
After a few moments, Tilgrem checked his personal screen. He blinked, rubbed his eyes, and then blinked again. "That... That's not possible." He turned back to face Captain Hayden. "If this is right, the Calnus was destroyed by a sustained energy burst magnitude 1.6 in strength." The data was all there: blast scoring, burns in the carbonic alloy on the hull, the shield generators simply burned out from the inside as they overloaded...
But it didn't make any sense! The best engineers in the Federation can manage to create a magnitude .7 burst for a microsecond in a lab, Tilgrem thought, This can't... For the next several seconds, he simply stared at the data hoping that it would magically somehow start to make sense. He was sorely disappointed.
"Admiral... there's more." Fillmore seemed to take a deep breath. "The orbit of Ark III has... changed."
"Changed," Tilgrem repeated dubiously.
Fillmore nodded, looking intensely frustrated. "It's almost as if it just... stopped moving for nearly two months! All our sensor data says that the northern hemisphere should be well into fall by now, but it seems that summer is just now coming to an end."
"That has to be a mistake," Tilgrem answered automatically. Putting aside the impossibility of a mag-1.6 energy burst, there was nothing that Will Tilgrem could think of which could simply stall a planet's orbit.
"I can send the data over," Captain Fillmore suggested. "Maybe your sciences division can make more sense of it than we could—it's been driving my officers crazy."
Tilgrem just nodded. "That's fine." Fillmore nodded to one of his officers off screen. Within seconds the data had reached the Arbiter'sbridge. "Commander Philips, get the data down to Astrophysics..."
His XO, Commander Philips, nodded and quickly pulled free a tablet from his console at the bridge's secondary command position. "Should I assign any other teams to this?" he asked as he stood.
Tilgrem bowed his for a moment. "No," he said finally. "Have all other science and engineering teams work on analysis and recovery of the Calnus." Commander Philips nodded, saluting shortly before heading for the bridge's main hatch.
Those mysteries aside, there was one more... mundane matter that had to be discussed, though it was something that he was loathe to bring up. He closed his eyes. "Have we... recovered the remains of the admiral and his son?" Tilgrem finally asked, the words tasting like ashes in his mouth.
Captain Hayden nodded, looking grim. "We haven't yet found the remains of his son, but the admiral... Recovery operations began on the bridge. He was... What was left—" Hayden coughed uncomfortably. "Well, I suppose you can imagine," she finished quickly.
"All right," Admiral Tilgrem started, trying not to do that very thing. "All crew members," he resumed, speaking to his bridge crew as well as the two captains on his main screen, "double duty shifts. I'd like to have something a little more substantial than an unexplainable magnitude 1.6 energy discharge and a months-delayed orbit before the Valkyrie gets here."
Captain Hayden's already morose expression grew even darker. "Then, Captain Silvestoli-Kenni will be..."
Tilgrem, looking positively miserable, nodded. "That's right. And I'd like to be able to tell her just why her husband died here," he said quietly. "God knows she'll need the closure..."
OOO
October 16th, 366 SD
1346 EST (earth standard time)
EFS Valkyrie, 3 days from the Ark System
Captain Iria Silvestoli-Kenni had always prided herself as a strong woman. It was a quality that she constantly and determinedly worked to cultivate in herself. And the results were hard to argue with: graduated top of her class at the academy, assigned to a deep space vessel on her first posting, XO on a combat explorer by 23, captain of her own battleship by 26. All that, and she still somehow found time to rear a son.
But the moment the news had reached her—the Calnus destroyed, her husband and son lost on what was supposed to be a simple and quiet survey mission—all of that effort and training had nearly cracked right there on the bridge. It was only though a sheer force of will that she had managed to croak out orders—Ark system, maximum warp, any further notices from FleetCom be damned—before rigidly leaving the bridge and locking herself in her ready room.
Ronixis once told her that a captain has to project the image of strength, even if they don't always feel it.
(It felt like a lifetime ago; if she remembered correctly, he told her that the night before Ise had blown up).
And that was why Captain Iria Silvestoli-Kenni—decorated war hero, respected fleet commander, and venerated soldier—was sitting alone in her ready room bawling her eyes out like she hadn't in years while her EFS Valkyrie sped on through the ocean of stars...
OOO
October 19th, 366 SD
0453 EST (earth standard time)
Arbiter Task Group, Ark System
For the second time in a month, the comm. rudely interrupted Admiral Tilgrem's sleep. Groggily pulling on his uniform jacket (exhausted from pitching in with scans and analysis, he had only managed to take it and his boots off before collapsing in bed) he slumped down into his chair. "Yes."
It was Commander Philips, somehow looking absurdly fresh and chipper despite the hour. "Admiral. I'm sorry to disturb you, but I thought this was something you would want to see right away." Philips' image smoothly slid down to a smaller frame in the right corner, as the rest of Tilgrem's screen switched to a topographical map of Ark III. "Further scans of the planet have picked up this." A red and white icon suddenly blinked into life near the center of the main continent.
"Is that a... ship?" Tilgrem asked.
Commander Philips nodded. "Yessir. And it just broke orbit fifteen minutes ago."
That chased the last traces of sleep from Tilgrem's mind. "What!?" The rabbit hole was only growing deeper... Ark III is an underdeveloped planet classified at 17th century technology at best! the admiral thought wildly. The only way to explain a ship would be— Hope suddenly rose in his chest. "I'm on my way to the bridge," he said before killing the connection and rushing to get his boots on.
Less than five minutes later, Admiral Tilgrem strode onto the bridge. "Do we have a visual on the ship?" he asked before even dropping into his command chair.
"Yes, sir," his operations officer answered.
"Onscreen," Tilgrem ordered immediately. His enthusiasm was dampened only seconds later, however, when he realized he wasn't looking at a federation shuttle or escape pod. The craft was sleek, a green and gray cutter built for speed—most importantly non-military. The admiral struggled to suppress a sigh of defeat. "Do we have an ID on that ship?" he asked, rubbing his eyes tiredly.
His operations officer brought up the registry on his console. He pushed his glasses back into place, leaning forward. "The Taru Moore," he started as he read carefully, "registered out of Tetragenesis to an Ernest Raviede." The ops officer frowned. "Sorry, make that a Dr. Ernest Raviede."
"Hail them," the admiral ordered, "perhaps they saw something." His expression soured. "At the very least, we'll have to issue them a citation for a UP3 violation in—"
"Actually, Admiral," his communications officer broke in, "they're hailing us, sir."
Admiral Tilgrem frowned, shifting uneasily in his chair. Rather presumptuous of some UP-jumpers. "Put it up," Tilgrem ordered. "Tetragenesis cutter Taru Moore," Tilgrem began, with every intention of letting the little Tetragenesis cutter know how much trouble they were in, "this is Admiral William Tilgrem of—" he abruptly cut himself off.
The main screen had switched to a view of the Taru Moore's tiny bridge, and Admiral Tilgrem stared in something very close to slack-jawed surprise. There—leaning forward from behind the two Tetrageniot pilots, sitting next to what he supposed had to be a native of Ark III with blue hair and pointy ears—was an honest to god human who, even more importantly, was wearing a battered Federation uniform.
"This is Ensign Claude C. Kenni," the young officer began, "Space Force registry 76549-7, assigned to the EFS Calnus. I am in need of assistance..."
OOO
0516 EST (earth standard time)
Arbiter Main Transporter
Tilgrem practically raced to the transporter room... Even Commander Philips (Tilgrem hoped more than knew) was having a bit of trouble keeping up with his suddenly altogether spry superior officer as they raced down the Arbiter's long corridors, dashing past confused looking junior officers.
Their haste paid off, as the two just crossed into the room just in time to feel the familiar tingle of an active transport. Tilgrem straightened his uniform...
...just as he saw three people materialize on the transporter pads: the female Tetrageniot, the female native, and the boy-child that had reappeared out of nowhere like a ghost.
Though, Tilgrem considered, as he eyed the ensign, 'boy-child' might not be the correct description anymore. It honestly looked like Ensign Kenni had been through a war—and it wasn't just the disreputable condition of his uniform Tilgrem was talking about either. The 'boy' looked lethal, with a retro-looking sword strapped to his back, armor obvious just under his uniform, and a phase gun belted to his hip. And his eyes...
The ensign looked a little overwhelmed for a moment (had he been expecting the Admiral—not to mention the half dozen Federation security guards arrayed on the outskirts of the transporter room—to be there waiting for him?), before his attention snapped back to Tilgrem. After a too-long beat, Ensign Kenni straightened up, immediately dropping into a salute. It was an altogether sloppy affair—Ensign Kenni clearly hadn't given one in a while. "Admiral, Sir."
Tilgrem accepted the gesture anyway, returning the salute. "Welcome aboard, Ensign Kenni. At ease." Claude dropped into an equally rusty rest stance. He seemed at a loss for anything to say. Tilgrem broke into a smile. "Damn good to see you, son," Tilgrem said suddenly, ignoring the sudden look of concern from Philips. "Damn good."
"Admiral," Philips suddenly interjected, a hint of a warning in his tone.
Tilgrem looked rankled. "I know, I know," he muttered irritably. The truth was they didn't know anything for certain—Ensign Kenni was anything from a beleaguered survivor to the very reason why the Calnus was orbiting in pieces around Ark III. "I'm just glad that someone survived, Philips," he chided. But Tilgrem couldn't help but notice the sudden stricken look on Ensign Kenni's face. This is going to be an interesting debriefing... the Admiral thought.
"Your... friends?" Tilgrem asked as he nodded to the two unsure looking women behind him. Of the two, the blonde tetrageniot seemed the most at ease (although her hands seemed to keep twitching, as if reaching for a weapon that she didn't have with her). The blue-haired Ark III native seemed to be somewhat awed, though, Tilgrem noted, her eyes were more focused on the (significantly armed) security team than what had to be the hyper technology all around her.
"Ah, right, Admiral," he began. "This is Rena Lanford," the ensign elaborated, nodding to the girl from Ark III, "She's a native of Expel."
Tilgrem frowned. "Expel?"
The ensign frowned. "Er, the planet below. I guess it'd be..." his expression scrunched up as he thought.
"Ark III," Tilgrem supplied.
"Right, Ark III—but the locals call it Expel." And here Ensign Kenni met Tilgrem's arched eyebrow, acknowledging the flagrant UP3 violation.
The ensign turned his attention to the tetrageniot. "And this is Opera... er," he stalled, sounding unsure.
The two of them exchanged what appeared to be a significant glance. After a moment, "Opera Lesat," he finished, placing perhaps a bit too much emphasis on her last name. Tilgrem frowned. She looks vaguely familiar...
Commander Philips cleared his throat lightly. Tilgrem rolled his eyes. "Right, right," he muttered. "Ensign Kenni, I get the feeling we have a lot to discuss. I'm going to ask you to come with Commander Philips and me to the conference room for a formal debriefing with the senior staff." He glanced to the ensign's two companions. "Your... allies here," he started, choosing his words carefully, "will be shown to some quarters to get some rest."
Ensign Kenni glanced at the two ladies, and for a long moment said nothing. Finally, with a hint of hesitation in his expression, he nodded.
"Claude!" his two companions protested at almost the same moment.
He attempted (with a questionable amount of success) to wave off their concerns with a gesture. "It'll be okay," he answered soothingly. "Opera, keep an eye on Rena, okay?" The tetrageniot nodded, and Tilgrem couldn't help but notice that she eyed the security guards distrustfully.
"Johnson, Hews," Commander Philips began, "Please escourt Ms. Lanford and Ms. Lesat to a stateroom." Two of the security guards nodded, and stepped forward.
"Ensign Kenni, if you'll follow us." Without waiting, Admiral Tilgrem turned and marched out of the transporter room.
OOO
1013 EST (earth standard time)
Arbiter Conference Room
"I just want to warn you," Admiral Tilgrem began, "that we'll have the recorder on for this preliminary debrief." After a half second, he broke into a grin. "It's just a formality, so try not to be too nervous about it."
By the calm expression on Ensign Kenni's face, it looked as if that had been the farthest thing on his mind. "Of course," he answered demurely.
"I'd like to begin," Commander Philips started at the admiral's nod, "with what exactly happened at planet FSP-24Y65 – currently designated Milokeenia."
Ensign Kenni took a deep breath. If he had been expecting such a blunt question, it was hard to tell. He stared down at the dull metal shine of the conference room table as he gathered his thoughts. "It started like any other mission," he began. "We had detected a set of ruins on the planet surface, and Da—"
And here the ensign flinched before gathering himself again. "Admiral Kenni had organized an away team to explore it.
"I was assigned to the team, and while in the ruins, I was... incautious while near a still active artifact," he continued bluntly. "And from there I was transported from Milokeenia to the Ark system in the blink of an eye."
Philips and Tilgrem exchanged looks. The ensign had related the events in a calm and straight-forward manner, but it was still hard to swallow. A transporter capable of warping at least 126 AU? Tilgrem thought. That's utterly— The thought died mid-sentence. Considering the other oddities in and around Ark III, he supposed finally that he shouldn't have been that surprised.
And of course, Ensign Kenni's tale only grew stranger as it continued.
About two hours later, Ensign Kenni's tale had finished. Philips and Tilgrem—who had remained silent but for the occasional clarifying question—exchanged looks again.
"Let me get this straight," Admiral Tilgrem began. "Four billion years ago—and that's billion with a b—a technologically advanced society ruled most of the known cluster with an iron fist. But when there were rebellions against their not-so-benevolent rule, a project to create heraldry-infused super soldiers went awry when the director went mad. And they destroyed the Calnus in the opening salvo in their campaign to destroy the entire universe."
"I realize it must sound ludicrous," Ensign Kenni answered.
"I'll say," Commander Philips interjected, his expression cold. "You expect us to believe that!?" he demanded.
Admiral Tilgrem held up a hand, trying to get Philips to restrain himself somewhat. "What the commander is trying to say," Tilgrem began pointedly, glancing at Philips, "is that while we don't necessarily reject what you've told us, we're going to need a bit more evidence."
Ensign Kenni looked as if he expected as much. "Of course." And here he drew the retro sword belted at his hip. Tilgrem saw Philips stiffen for a moment, only to relax when the ensign laid it flat on the table. "You'll find that this weapon is emitting a peculiar anti-matter based field."
Now it was Tilgrem's turn to look apprehensive. "Anti-matter?" he asked quickly, casting another wary look at the weapon. It didn't look like it was about to explode and annihilate itself and half the all too mundane matter of the Arbiter along with it.
Ensign Kenni looked nonplussed. "It's something that the Nedians cooked up for us. It was the only way to battle the Ten Wise Men. We have a few other OPA-like relics with us, as well.
"Furthermore, Rena—" Ensign Kenni balked for a second, "Ms. Lanford," he corrected, looking vaguely nervous, "as well as two other of my companions are 100 Nedian, and unlike any other race the Federation's encountered in the region."
That answered a few questions. Between the beginning of the debriefing and the end, several of Tilgrem's staff had informed him via his command tablet of oddities on Ms. Lanford's bioform readings. Specifically how they were completely unlike any other readings from Ark III.
A tone suddenly echoed through the conference room. "Admiral Tilgrem, Admiral Tilgrem, please contact the bridge immediately."
Tilgrem's eyes narrowed. "What now...?" he wondered aloud, before keying his personal comm. "Tilgrem here," he answered.
"Admiral, the EFS Valkyrie has just arrived in Arkspace, and Captain Silvestoli-Kenni is requesting to speak with Arbiter-Actual."
At this Ensign Kenni perked up. Tilgrem nodded. "Go ahead and put her through."
"Yessir," the bridge tech. answered.
The comm. lapsed into silence before... "Admiral Tilgrem?"
"Captain Silvestoli-Kenni, welcome to Arkspace."
"Permission to come aboard?" Captain Kenni asked, getting right to the point.
"Granted," he answered automatically. "And Captain? I suggest you come to the conference room as soon as you're aboard..." He glanced over at Ensign Kenni. "I think we have someone here you'll want to see straight away..."
Judging by the stunned silence on Captain Silvestoli's end of the comm., it seemed Tilgrem's comment had the effect he had wanted. She had, of course, been briefed on the recovery procedure, and knew that there was only one crew member unaccounted for... "I'm on my way," she declared hastily (the hesitance and yet desire to believe clear in her voice), before the connection was cut.
Admiral Tilgrem took advantage of the silence following to turn back to Ensign Kenni. "While we still work to do on... confirming your story, there are other oddities in and around Ark III that you'll undoubtedly be more familiar with than us. Will you be willing to cooperate with us further on the investigation?" he asked. He was too polite to actually ask, but the subtext to the question was obvious: Or will you try to sneak back and go native on Expel instead?
"I'll do anything I can to help the people down on Expel," the ensign responded.
Tilgrem paused for a moment, reappraising the ensign. He sounded almost mature beyond his years. "That's excellent to hear, Ensign," Tilgrem began. "We'll have to start—"
He was cut off as the door to the conference room slid open and Captain Ira Silvestoli-Kenni rushed in. "Where is he?" she asked immediately, before she had even a chance to scan the room properly. Seconds later, her gaze settled on Claude (already half out of his seat). "Claude!" she shouted, tears already starting to form in her eyes.
"Mom," Claude breathed, relief, sadness, and a deep tiredness all mingling in his voice.
As the two embraced, Admiral Tilgrem nodded to Commander Philips. "I think that's all we need for now," he said quietly. Commander Philips looked as if he might have disagreed, but another look at the heartfelt reunion made him hesitate. Nodding to the rest of the staff present, they all quietly slipped out of the room, leaving the mother and son to their reunion.
Just outside the conference room, Philips pulled Tilgrem aside. "Sir, you don't really buy that story, do you?" he asked.
Tilgrem shrugged. "For the time being, we don't have enough information to make any sort of judgment, Commander. All I do know," he continued, suddenly looking wearier by the second, "is that this is eventually going to make one hell of a report to FleetCom..."
OOO
Arcadian 92nd, 1344 UCEC (United Church of Expel Calendar)
Midday
Port of New Clik, Kingdom of Cross, Expel
Ketil scratched his nose, as he perched on the old barrel near the new harbor. The sounds of carpenters filled the air, wooden mallets pounding away at more new buildings and expanding the docks. He swayed slightly as he closed his eyes, enjoying the salty breeze. It's a nice day... he thought happily.
This tranquil moment was rudely interrupted, however, by the growling of his stomach. His eyes popped open, and he started to scowl. He glanced up and down the paved boulevard, scanning for any sign of his posse. Looks like I'm on my own for lunch again... he thought, as he hopped from the barrel. Never around when I need them...
He walked along the path down the hill, heading roughly for the docks. Most of the merchants and grocers gathered down a few alleys off Clik's main square nowadays, and it was there that Ketil hurried to. Ketil didn't bother browsing—instead he made a beeline for the first stall (a baker, with fresh loaves aligned neatly on a rack covered with white cloth) and picked out the first loaf he could reach.
For a brief moment—as he stood before the stall with the bread in his hands and the baker seemingly distracted with something or other behind the counter—he contemplated just stuffing the bread under his shirt and bolting. It was nothing he hadn't done a million times before, after all.
The urge, however, passed after a moment. The lessons a certain ensign and healer had taught him remained even months later, he was proud to say. Ketil instead quickly shoved his hand into his pocket and scooped out the appropriate amount of change. The baker eyed him suspiciously for a moment, before taking the money and seeming contented.
Ketil tore into the loaf as he wandered back towards New Clik's main square. It was fresh, but that was about its only virtue. The bread was tasteless and surprisingly tough; even so, Ketil was still glad to have it. Since The Wave, times had been rough. Admittedly, things were finally getting better—the sounds of carpenters only the most obvious sign of the turnaround—but it would be awhile before certain things (such as food quality) got back to where they had been.
The growling of his stomach settled for the time being, Ketil decided on a whim to head down all the way to the harbor. Much to his delight, he found another barrel. He quickly hopped on top of it. He sighed. "Yeah... A nice day."
He had heard of monster attacks continuing to rise (especially across most of Lacour) but so far Cross—doubly true for a little quiet region like Clik—had been spared much of the chaos. Sure, the occasional wild dog (seeming to writhe with madness and something else in its eyes) would be found sniffing around near the edges of town, but so far—
The thought died in mid-sentence, as Ketil thought he saw something in the water—several blue humps breaking the surface for a moment, before they vanished. Panicking, he quickly glanced around. No one in the area had apparently seen anything out of the ordinary.
"Now I'm starting to lose it..." he murmured with a half-smirk, playfully knocking a fist against his temple. "Maybe its best that they—"
Another chill raced along his spine as Ketil watched the bumps return, at least ten, possibly more. And then, almost as one, the humps started to head for the beach. "W-what are they!?" Ketil called out, as he scrambled to get back to his feet, all the while watching as odd blue creatures slowly shambled out of the water and up along the beach.
But Ketil's fear soon gave way to confusion, as the two creatures in the lead (looking absurdly like the cartoon dolphins from a storybook he read as an infant) came to a stop just a few yards short of him. The two exchanged glances, then one took another step forward.
"Whaeet ess up, dood?"
OOO
October 25th, 366 SD
1544 EST (earth standard time)
Arbiter Task Group, Ark System
Conditions on the ground, Admiral Tilgrem soon discovered, were if anything worse than what Ensign Kenni had explained during that long discussion in the Arbiter's conference room. That much was clear from even the Arbiter's initial scans. According to Ensign Kenni, the infected creatures had had leadership—direction—before, toppling one kingdom and pressing against another. But with that leadership gone, they were attacking indiscriminately.
And the 'beasts' kept appearing! His science teams were baffled and at a complete loss at how to explain it: randomly, across the planet, wide swaths of animals would suddenly turn violent. There seemed to be no discernable patter—no virus to track, no wind conditions spreading spores... Nothing! The closest thing to an explanation anyone in the taskgroup hadto an explanation was, effectively, 'the OPA did it.'
But that OPA was now missing (vanished along with what Ensign Kenni called 'Energy Nede,' another can of worms Tilgrem didn't look forward to investigating). Having left nothing behind but only a few odd (but ultimately harmless) readings at the top of the technologically-out-of-place tower in "El," they effectively had nothing to go on... Nor any explanation of why the process was still continuing!
Any hope of mighty Federation science coming up with a quick and dirty solution was rapidly vanishing. Tilgrem felt a headache coming on.
For the time being, the highest concentrations of the beasts were across the continents Ensign Kenni had identified as El and Lacour, but Tilgrem knew it would only be a few more months before levels in Cross would be the same. Those rumors of some new creatures rising from the seas in Northern Cross seemed to be only the beginning!
If we just had some more time, just to get our heads around what was—
As if the gods were listening in to his thoughts, one of the bridge's sensor stations began to emit a warning. "Admiral," one of Tilgrem's bridge officers began, interrupting his reverie, "according to our sensors, a group of hostiles is moving en masse against a population center on the eastern landmass."
Ensign Kenni was dashed over to the officer's station in a heartbeat, scanning the geographic data on the screen. He nearly swore. "They're pressing against Lacour again..." he muttered to himself, almost disbelieving. "They're way past the old front line..."
"Size and disposition," Philips automatically directed the tactical officer. "Gimme threat levels."
Of course, traditional Federation threat assessments weren't designed for unorthodox situations such as these. "Hard to tell, sir," the tactical officer answered seconds later, his eyes scanning the tactical plot on his screen. "The mass is chaotic and undisciplined, but there are a lot of them... two, maybe three thousand, all heading south." The office made an irritated sound, shaking his head. "It's a mess down there—individual threat levels are next to impossible to establish. No weapons or other tools from what I can see."
"That won't matter much for them," Ensign Kenni said authoritatively, his eyes locked on the same tactical plot. "Whatever's happened to those creatures down there, they'll fight like demons now." He turned his attention back to the admiral. "Sir, the Lacour army is exhausted. They're not going to be able to hold out against something like that. We've got to send reinforcements as soon as possible."
"Absolutely not!" Commander Philips snapped immediately, staring at the ensign has if he had completely taken leave of his senses. "Commit boots to the ground on an underdeveloped planet!? Are you insane!?"
"We can't just ignore the suffering of those people down there!" Ensign Kenni countered immediately, his gaze defiantly flipping back and forth between Philips and Tilgrem, apparently forgetting he was addressing a pair of superior officers...
...even as his mother Captain placed a restraining hand on his shoulder. "Claude," she reprimanded quietly. Ensign Kenni, though it was clear on his face he wanted to do anything else, forced himself to calm down, though his hands remained clenched by his side.
With an approving nod to herself at Ensign Kenni's concerted effort at control, she turned her attention to Admiral Tilgrem. "Admiral, what my son is trying to say is that the entire situation is hardly normal. Whatever's going on down there, it was caused by an OPA from a now-dead civilization, several generations beyond even our technology." She shifted, planting her hands on her hips. "That's hardly a fair fight for those Expellians, isn't it?"
"Ensign Kenni claims it was an OPA," Commander Philips started, taking his role as devil's advocate very seriously, "with little more evidence that a few admittedly strange hand weapons and other—only possibly related—phenomenon in the local sector." He spread his hands. "As terrible as what's happened here is, we can't just throw the entire UP3 out the window!"
Both sides of the argument weighed heavily on Tilgrem's mind, as he closed his eyes, his chin resting on his thumb and forefinger in thought. He had the sinking feeling that the decision he was being asked to make was about seven scales above his pay grade (his sense of the maudlin having been sharpened by the events of the past two and a half weeks)...
But even so... when he had enlisted in the Federation Space Forces, he had made certain vows he wasn't about to break.
"Commander," Tilgrem began, "we picked up Colonel Morris and his detachment of the 742nd Marine Expeditionary at Federation Station #8, correct?"
"Yes..." Commander Philips began, hesitantly.
Admiral Tilgrem nodded. "Get the Colonel on the horn, and tell him to get his men ready. He's going to have a hell of a task in front of him."
Commander Philips looked less than pleased, but the admiral's orders were the admiral's orders. "Yessir."
Ensign Kenni looked immediately relieved. But before long, a steely look of determination stole onto his face. "Admiral, I'd like to accompany the marine detachment." Admiral Tilgrem swiveled his chair to affix the ensign with an even stare. "The King there knows me. They'll need me down there to assure the locals we're trying to help."
Kid reminds me a lot of Ronixis, Tilgrem thought. Hadn't it been Ronixis that had stolen his beloved Calnus to help an underdeveloped planet in trouble? "If you're going down," Tilgrem started, "I'd suggest you get that phase gun recharged first," he said, gesturing to the battered and clearly inoperative pistol belted next to Claude's sword. Tilgrem swiveled his chair back to face the main screen, still displaying the tactical map of Lacour City and its environs. "And try not to get yourself killed—we're going to need your knowledge of Ar—no, Expel."
Ensign Kenni, beaming, saluted before he and his mother dashed from the bridge.
The bridge began to thrum with activity. Tilgrem settled back in his chair, his fingers laced and hovering just before his chin. His eyebrow arched as he noticed his XO, hovering near his command chair. "Yes, Commander Philips?" he asked slowly.
Commander Philips' expression might've given one the impression that he had been recently sucking on lemons. "Admiral..." he started quietly, just low enough for Tilgrem to hear but (hopefully) none of the rest of the bridge. "Admiral, I'm afraid that I have to go on record as strongly objecting to this deployment."
Tilgrem levelly met Philips' gaze for a long moment. "Noted," he said finally, turning his attention back to the main tactical screen.
Commander Philips blinked in disbelief for a few moments, before realizing he had been in effect dismissed. "Admiral," Philips began again in earnest, "Sir, I don't think you've fully considered all the implications that this deployment is going to—"
"Why play so coy, Commander Philips?" Tilgrem asked, breaking into Philips' tirade. "We could probably just make a list. Let's see..." And here Tilgrem made a show of stroking his beard. "First of all, starting with the more mundane, once the conglomerates in the Federation get wind of this and start salivating at the prospect of so many new markets," Admiral Tilgrem began, a hint of frustration in his voice, "they'll begin a nonstop lobbying campaign for 'market expansion rights,' underdeveloped planet or not.
"Oh, and we can't forget the new rumors that Lesonia is remilitarizing again. If that turns out to be true, sending troops to protect some underdeveloped planet is a waste of valuable combat resources that we might end up needing.
"Not to mention that making the decision to deploy troops to an undeveloped planet—making it a de facto monitored planet—is several pay grades above my rank."
Commander Philips looked a little overwhelmed. "Y-yes," he said shakily, perhaps having underestimated how much thought Tilgrem had put into the decision. "I'd imagine that those would be the sorts of things..."
The admiral leaned back. "Even with all that in mind," Tilgrem started, "I still think intervening is the right call," he finished gravely. Internally however... Here's hoping I'm right, he worried.
He vaguely wondered what history would make of his decision.
END PRELUDE
Author's Note:
Please note, that all of the point of view characters in the prelude will not be point of view characters in subsequent chapters, except for Iria (so, apologies to those rabid Ketil and Tilgrem fans?). The goal of the Prelude is to expand the SO-verse, specifically in regard to how insane the Ark system must have looked to the Federation (and, I guess, even the residents of Expel) following the events of SO2.
From here on out, though, you can expect the major thrust of the narrative to be carried by characters that will probably be a lot like long lost friends to you like-minded hardcore SO2 fans...
Oh, and before I forget: obviously, expect spoilers. Lots and lots of spoilers (and mostly for SO2). But don't be surprised if I casually reference things from Star Ocean: Bluesphere (the surprisingly deep GBC sequel to SO2) or even SO3.
ALSO: So, Square-Enix has retooled a lot of names of people and organizations for the impending of American release of the SO1 remake -- Ronixis restyled 'Ronyx,' Iria is now 'Ilia,' and the Earth Federation has been redubbed the 'Terran Alliance.' While I suppose I should take Square-Enix's word over that of the fan translated version of the original or the badly translated original American release of SO2, frankly I like the old names better. Sorry for any confusion this may cause.
