USCM Headquarters, O'Neill Space Station, L-4 orbit of the Earth-Lunar System.
30th July 2179 08:14
The sunlight glinted and sparkled from the polished metal surfaces of the slowly revolving, three-hundred-yard-diameter disk. The central axis of O'Neill Space Station, with its docking arms extended span slowly in the void. Unlike the structure from which it sprang, the docking arms were not rotating, or rather they were running in reverse at a rate which exactly countered the station's own spin. Thus a visiting spacecraft could be coupled to them, for the transfer of personnel or cargo, without being whirled disastrously around.
O'Neill space station revolved once a minute, and the centrifugal force generated by this slow spin produced an artificial gravity equal to the Moon's. This it had been discovered was a good compromise between Earth gravity and no gravity at all.
Outside the almost invisible viewing port of the General's office, the Earth and the stars marched in silent procession. At the moment, this side of the Station was tilted away from the Sun; otherwise it would have been impossible to look out, for the office would have been blasted with light. Even as it was the glare of the Earth, filling half of the sky, drowned all but the brightest of stars. But Earth was waning, as the station orbited toward the night side of the planet; in a few minutes it would be a huge black disk, spangled with the lights of cities. And then the sky would belong to the stars.
General Tompkins was seated behind his desk, his service dress immaculate as ever. His face was taut and weathered, and despite being somewhere in his late fifties his body was in hard good health. Behind him several flags hung in their standards, and across the length of one entire wood paneled wall there was a remarkable map of the galaxy, with several small areas covered over, obscured from the eyes of unauthorized personnel. The carpet was a thick navy blue emblazoned with the insignia of the United Systems Colonial Marines. Even onboard a space station orbiting Earth certain things still had to be just so.
A harsh shrill tone emitted from one of the two phones on his desk, the secure line. He snatched up the receiver and glanced at the LED ID on the bottom of the unit to see who was calling him. 07-029-77. Intelligence, or The Slime as the old grunt in him mockingly thought.
"Yes?" he barked down the receiver.
"General, it's Colonel Dowdes here"
"I know Dowdes, you don't have to be in Intelligence to use call I.D. Now what is it?"
On the other end of the phone Dowdes winced as if he had been physically slapped. "Transmission Sir, from the Sulaco. Unofficial, sent by the civilian Ripley. Communication cannot be verified. This needs your immediate attention General."
"Agreed, report to my office immediately. Out". Tompkins slowly replaced the receiver and turned in his chair to look out of the viewport. The Sulaco had been sent on a routine search and rescue mission to some backwater colony out past Zeta II Reticuli, what in God's name could have happened that required a civilian to operate the communications system? Where was Lieutenant Gorman or the rest of the marines ? Concern creased his brow but he knew from experience not to make assumptions. Data was what he needed and Dowdes had better be sharp about providing it.