centerbChapter 1: The Ambassador/b
briA flimsy civilian, a tired Captain, and an ecstatic Admiral./i/center
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A solar system occupied the edge of the IHiigaran Sphere/I – just five light-years away from Hiigara. The star system revolved around a massive main sequence star. Still in its prime the dazzling radiance produced by its core scorched a giant planet twelve million miles away.
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A fountain of ionized gas could be seen discharging from each end of its magnetic pole due to the solar wind. Because its axis was nearly parallel to the ecliptic the gaseous giant was commonly referred to as the "sleeping giant" by the regional patrols because of its similarity to a (well nourished) sleeping child snoring from both ends.
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The gaseous giant blocked most of the incoming radiation. Its shadow was almost completely free of radiation because of the powerful magnetic field generated by the planet. Its two spewing ends were warped by the solar wind, forming an enormous comet trail that encompassed the planet. At the end of the inner trail was a large resource operation. Almost completely obscured by the outer layer of ions, the resource station collected large quantities of the ejected gases from the Sleeping Giant and transfers the vast majority of the harvested resources to a nearby Hiigaran Hyperspace Inhibitor station via four micro-wormholes. Within the opaque streams of ionized trails were sixteen large magnetic traps strategically positioned to maximize resource collection and send it to the central hub before it is sent off to the station just beyond an asteroid belt located farther outward.
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The hallways were cramped and poorly lit. The sides had pockmarks and long thin metallic scratches where the previous crew had scraped along the sides of the walls with their magnetic boots or some worn out equipment had been carried away to be recycled.
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IEverything had to be recycled!/I Ericia thought contemptuously as she entered the lavatory. The foul stink clogged her nostrils as she squatted, relieving herself. While holding her breath, she thought of the days remaining before her rotation ended in this rotten tin can. She stared up at the little console next to the entrance. It had controlled the ventilation system of the room before it and the ventilation system itself died. No one had fixed it. In the pits of agony, her breath escaped and she quickly gasped. The defiled scent entered. Repulsive.
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Tead, the sensor operator, walked along the corridor to his post. Just as he passed the lavatory the door slammed open and knocked him out. Ericia gushed out of the little contaminated room, choking and utterly unaware of the vapid man floating away. One of her hands was holding up her loose trousers and the other covering her mouth. With one leg snapped to the wall she used her other to shut the door and seal the fetid stench in the lavatory for the next desperate personnel.
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No one onboard dared to enter the three lavatories on the station unless they absolutely had to. And thanks to the low laxative meals, no one needed to do so more than once a week.
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Tead stirred a little as he regains consciousness. Showers of hot sparks masked his vision. The blinding pain in the back of his head was overwhelming. Slowly he willed to suppress all of it as the sharp pain turned to a dull throb pounding against the beat of his heart. He caught the floor with his magnetic shoes and turned to see Ericia gasping for the recirculated but nearly odorless air. As his senses returned, he could feel the aroma making him reek. He stepped several paces back, trying to comprehend the unexpectedness of this incident.
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"What the hell was that?" He said, exhaustion clawing him.
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Ericia managed to catch her breath and tighten her pants, "Sorry, its only my second time." she said with a embarrassed smile and a revolted gesture.
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Tead took another breath, "Oh, so I see." the entire outpost, with its crew of six, had met the flimsy Ericia HiirLra when she first arrived. "Be more careful next time." he left the hallway, rubbing his head, still in a state of shock.
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"Sorry," Ericia breathed, her face glowing with embarrassment. She swallowed, got up, and went back to her quarters.
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The walk was short because most of the vital compartments were next to one another. The entire facility was barely larger than a carrier. Complete with a small production bay for maintenance work, six super-frigate size nuclear reactors, and minor resource process units. The IDump/I –- as everyone called it –- was about the worst rotation any personnel could receive and was considered a punishment when a crew was assigned to it.
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Ericia opened the hatch to her dark private quarters. The door opened unevenly and stopped midway. She squeezed herself in and manually shut it. Standing in the dark room Ericia ruminated over her present situation. When she couldn't think of anything she flipped the light switch and waited for it to flicker several times before stabilizing at half power. Everything was either broken or halfway there.
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She disabled her magnetic boots and pushed herself against the door toward the opposite end of the room where a digital pad lay. It was the latest message from her boyfriend, Marcos, which she saved for now. Carefully she picked it up and opened it with a tap on the flat screen. Her face lit up along with the screen as she read the note. She smiled softly with delight. It was the only thing that kept her mentally stable, passing messages and receiving them was what kept her confident each day under the horrendous environment.
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As she finished reading the note, she opened her cramped view port and strained herself to look in the direction of the Inhibitor station, which was partially blocked by the streaming gas so much like that of the desert storms back on Karak she had heard so much about from her parents.
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Captain Marcos was headed a flight of nine advance interceptors. They passed a patrolling destroyer – a relic of the Revelation class – at high speeds and turned to their second patrol point. IEverything is so repetitive and dull,/I Marcos thought for the ten thousandth time. IEvery single piece of equipment must be obsolete before it is sent to us as "relieve support."/I He loathed the assault carrier passing through the Gate. It was the latest design with the latest technology: It was a Nabaal warship.
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He took his eyes off of the carrier and its escorts to focus on his job – patrolling the wasteland of Tavon. As the squadron turn yet again for the third patrol point, the massive sun of the Tavon system came to view. Automatically the canopy altered its opacity to compensate for the brilliance.
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IAt least there's one good thing about this piece of junk./I Marcos silently gratified the change. The squadron had recently replaced the Blade Mk. 5 interceptors with the Mk. 5c version. The 5c version is still in beta stage and Marcos had to convince his team to be the guinea pigs. It was a desperate attempt to keep the outdated Mk. 5 fighters in service rather than purchasing the Acolytes from the Somtaaws, which were exhaustively high maintenance and overall expensive crafts without the benefits.
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Marcos chuckled to himself at his accomplishments, which were nearly none. He set aside the past and the deal, trying to keep the delta formation strict and exact. IDon't want those Nabaals to think of us as lazy no good—/I
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"Captain Marcos, this is Six-three." one of the pilots called out, interrupting Marcos' thoughts.
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"Six-three, this is Six-lead." Marcos replied, "Anything wrong?"
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"No, Captain." the pilot began, "It's just that I thought I saw something peculiar."
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"And that is?"
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"I can't be sure. I caught something in my peripheral vision. When I tried to look at it, it was gone."
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"Roger that, keep on alert. We may have to deal with it later." Marcos knew there was nothing wrong. They had already circulated through the patrol points four times and he was sure it was just a symptom of fatigue.
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Marcos turned his head and spotted Six-three, making sure he wasn't deliriously swerving. After several moments he turned back with a smile. INothing's wrong, he's just a little paranoid./I All of a sudden he noticed Jovis, the sleeping giant. Should I? He hesitated for a brief moment before activating his telescope in the dome at the front of the craft where most of the sensory instruments were. He focused on the IDump/I inside the cometic tail behind Jovis, wondering if Ericia was trying to find him at that moment. He smiled at the thought. IShe probably is, poor girl. If only she just behaved in front of the commanding officers, then none of this would've happened. Well, she probably wouldn't do such a disobedient thing in the future, not after this./I
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Marcos managed to snap back and make the turn for the next patrol point just in time. That was close. He could feel cold sweat in his flight suit. II'll need to pay more attention next time./I
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"This is Bravo lead, status report." It was wholly dark outside and there was no sense of movement, forcing him to navigate entirely on his flight instruments. The cockpit glowed from the lighted panels in front of him.
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"Bravo-two, package attached."br
"Bravo-three, package attached."br
"Bravo-four, package attached."br
"Bravo-five, in position."br
"Bravo-six, in position."br
"Roger that Bravo team. Proceed to phase two."br
"Bravo-two, copied."br
"Bravo-three, copied."br
"Bravo-four, copied."br
"Bravo-five, copied."br
"Bravo-six, copied."
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The mission required great patience and discipline. It was going to be another five hours before every objective would be completed. They will have to fight the fatigue and muscle aches until they are safely docked at the end of the mission.
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From the depths of space a vortex split the void and expanded it to a two-dimensional square, the pale cerulean fire of hyperspace dissipating from the portal. It slithered backwards in a slow poise, revealing the latest modification of the Imperator class carrier from the kiith'sa Naabal. Its decorations and insignia informed of its significance. For the briefest moment it rested in the void, completely devoid of any protection.
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Admiral Orin Naabal stood firmly on the commanding deck of the bridge, his magnetic boots securing him firmly against the metallic floor; cold, hard, and precise. He surveyed the crew in their stations. His head scanned for any imperfections in the bridge as he waited for the monitor to initiate. Behind a noncommittal complexion his heart lurched as the panoramic display revealed the thirteen-hyperspatial portals opening around his vessel in a protective formation. IIt's great to be alive./I
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"ITiir-Ska/I reporting in. IKall-Ra/I reporting in…" One by one the escorting vessels reported their status after completely exiting hyperspace. "Roger that Angel Battle Group," The Comm. crew replied as every last escorting unit submitted their status.
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"Good," Admiral Orin acknowledged quietly, "Have the Angel-Vengeance squadron form a loose sphere formation around us and direct the Angel-Perdition group in a protective delta configuration around them."
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"Ay-aye, Admiral." The Communication personnel responded and transferred the orders down through the hierarchy, "What do you wish the Angel-Claw squadron to do, Admiral?" He asked, referring to the three new Avatar class Heavy Cruisers.
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"Send them ahead as our vanguard."
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"Ay-aye, Admiral."
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IEven at my age I can still be a piss-cutter of an Admiral, /I Orin thought, pride instilling him. He was on the returning trip of one of the most elaborate baby sitting missions of his entire thirty-six year career in the Hiigaran Navy. Though the mission involved the ambassador and his cabinets and was therefore important, it was highly rudimentary and unchallenging. The boredom had almost driven Orin to the brink of insanity except for the thought of returning back to Hiigara, where his family awaited.
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"Set course for the Hiigaran Inhibitor at two-thirds power." Orin said after the escorting units positioned themselves into the correct location around the carrier. He would have ordered maximum speed but such impatience was the cause of critical failures in any mission. Thirty-plus years of experience had taught him to be cautious and vigilant: a stray asteroid in a sensor shadow can obliterate the carrier if big enough; there was no way to avoid it if the speed was too fast and there were not enough maneuvering thrusters equipped on the vessel, as the IKar-Titania/I had proven.
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Ahead he could see a squadron of Blade 5c Heavy Interceptors passing by on their patrol route and the rotating Hyperspace Inhibitor station just sixty kilometers away. IAnother six hours and I'll be home again, with my family. /I
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The light indigo glow of the hangar was welcoming to the seven pairs of sore eyes entering the main docking area. Complying with the standard docking procedures the seven Blade Mk. 5c fighters glided in at a mere fraction of combat speed. The ends of the interceptors were blackened from the plasma exhaust and cooled from the frigid space surrounding them.
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"Six-flight, you're issued C7 as your dock." The Traffic Controller announced in a professional yet depressive attitude. The routine got to everyone, sooner or later.
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"Roger that, TC." Marcos replied after a slight startle. His mind was somewhere else again. IThe first thing I'm going to do is take a shower…/I Marcos thought, instinctively maneuvering his fighter toward a small group of loading pads next to the assembly line.
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The landing was smooth and uneventful. All sixteen pit-crews were quick to lock down all strikecrafts. Within two minutes Marcos was out of the hangar walking down the hallway at the head of his team. The five-hour patrol was tedious and dreary. Most of the pilots were exhausted and starving. The only thing on Marcos' mind was that long hot shower.
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"Marcos," Gray called from the end of the line, "Captain, may I speak with you for a moment?"
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Marcos turned and let the other team members pass. He decided he wasn't that desperate for that shower. "Yes?" Marcos tried not to show his fatigue.
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"Sir, I have compiled a profile of what I saw during the patrol." He held out a squared piece of ceramic material containing more data than the private library of antique books somewhere in the Hyperspace Inhibitor station.
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Marcos stared at it for a while, transfixed at the all-too-common diskette as if he had never seen anything like it before. It took several blinks before he managed to come out of his stupor and take the disk from Gray. "Thank you, I'll take a look at it as soon as possible." He said with a warm yet empty smile, the exhaustion overwhelming him.
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"Sir." Gray saluted energetically; he was still new. Marcos returned the salute and dismissed him.
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Wearily he managed to drag himself to his private quarters and tossed the solid-state disk on the table. The thought of a hot bath suddenly vanished and he crumbled on top of the bunk.
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Sleep engulfed him instantly.
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"This is carrier Daphnia of kiith Naabal –" The Communication Officer began as the ambassador fleet approached the Hyperspace Inhibitor station.
"We've been expecting you, carrier Daphnia." The other CO replied, "Please proceed to coordinate 0038 for inspection."
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"Copied."
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IEverything was well coordinated and punctual; perfect harmony,/I Admiral Orin delighted in the thought as he saw the station grow to immense proportions as they closed in. It was a non-descriptive station the size of a mothership. The monstrosity was composed of several rotating structures that created a distortion in the fabric of space-time, collapsing any quantum tunneling effect, i.e. inhibiting any hyperspatial travel through this region. The Admiral recollected his memory banks from his days at the Academy classes.
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"Status report." He ordered as the ambassador himself came in on an unscheduled inspection.
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"Admiral, the structural integrity of the ship is at one-o-one percent with every system, subsystem, and backup system in full operation at one-hundred efficiency." The System Specialist reported immediately.
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"The reactor drive is running at seventy percent with the output at approximately two-third as ordered. The hyperspace drive is fully operational and the capacitors are charging. Capacity at 8 percent and change."
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"Admiral, estimated time to arrival at IHiigara/I is five hours and seventeen minutes after the state-inspection. Estimated time to next hyperspace jump is one hour."
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Admiral Orin smiled to himself with a noncompetitive pride before turning to greet the ambassador. "Dr. Kaylon Sjet, how may I be of service?"
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"Admiral Orin Naabal," He was a bulky man of small stature with muscular features even at his age of eighty-nine. Dr. Kaylon Qu'dar Sjet had served as one of the members of Fleet Intelligence along side with Orin during the Kushan Exodus. "I was wondering how long will I have to wait before I can speak with you in private."
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"Why certainly, Dr. Kaylon, I'm currently free if now is convenient for you."
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"Yes, that would be fine." He headed for the hatch and walked out toward Admiral Orin's private room. Orin followed silently.
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The ambassador began as soon as Orin secured the hatch. "I have an urgent message from the Galactic Council requesting your full cooperation."
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Orin tried not to look surprised at the abruptness from the ambassador. "Of course, you must surely know that I will cooperate, especially if it's from the Galactic Council." He replied, trying to stall. Immediately Orin thought the urgency of this for Dr. Sjet to come to the point so quickly.
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"Good, I've been trying to discuss this with you since we left the convention." He began, a sense of frantic showing in his eyes. "There have been rumors of an assassination in the wrap."
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"Why, you don't really believe in rumors, do you?" Orin said, dragging it out.
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"Of course not. However, just after the convention one of the assistance from a Council member handed me a note urging me to return to IHiigara/I as soon as possible." He paused to catch his breath, and then began again, not letting Orin interrupt. "I'm not sure what to make of all this, but I believe there will be oppositions waiting for us somewhere in our journey."
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Admiral Orin did not speak; the thought was too surreal for him to immediately grasp. He opened his mouth as if to say something but nothing came out. His mind was racing, thinking of ambush plans and counter tactics. IThe perfect place for an ambush was twenty some light-years back when they passed by the supernova, or through the asteroid rich cloud outside of that system. Here we have reinforcements in abundance, if the attack were to be conducted within this region we would be able to target them before they completely exit hyperspace. And they can't escape because of the Inhibitor. Unless…/I
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"I advice extreme precaution and not to instigate any further unnecessary delays." Dr. Kaylon continued, beads of perspiration forming on his high forehead. "I must deliver this to the Daiamid as soon as possible." He held out a spherical globe in the palm of his hand.
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Orin studied its surface: it was hard and marble like, undoubtedly a new type of solid-state storage media. The carvings on the poles of this media ball were highly intricate and complex. Orin focused on that part of the sphere. Absorbing its style and etching it into his mind. As he stared into it an illusive movement pervaded through him as if his surroundings swirled about him. He blinked to stop the convulsive delusion. IMy eyes must be playing tricks on me again./I He concluded.
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"I'm counting on you to store this for me until we reach IHiigara/I. There maybe spies hidden among my advisors and I can't trust them. Can I trust you?" Kaylon asked, counting on the years working side by side with the Admiral in the Intelligence section. "Can I depend on you to keep this in save keeping?"
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A hesitation, "Yes, you can depend on me." Orin replied. He had a secret compartment hidden from view in his private quarter. "But why–"
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"Admiral, we require your presence at the bridge immediately." The XO's voice from the intercom. interrupted.
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"Here, take it." The ambassador shoved the marble-like orb into the Orin's hand before quickly departing the room. Orin waited after the elder ambassador before scuttling toward the commanding bridge.