Chapter Three - Clean.
June 12, 2338
U.L.N Controlled Plato Station
Captain William Milton - U.L.N Civil Military Fleet
"Welcome to Plato Station; the current time is 1600 hours. A reminder to all military personnel, you are required by U.L.N statute 12.347b to leave all firearms, ballistic, or energy with a barrel length of or exceeding 10 inches onboard your designated vessel; service sidearms are permitted in unrestricted areas. Thank you, and have a nice stay."
Milton steadily ignored the shipwide intercom that went off every half hour amongst the chatter of countless individuals as he took a step out of the massive hangar bay the Evelyn's Vain had been drydocked at for over 3 days now and into the common areas of the rest of the Station. As soon as the U.L.N had received the communication that the black box was obtained from the wreckage, they had called her back under priority orders; command had been real hush, hush about it too.
Two servicemen were walking towards him and then quickly gave a crisp salute, one that Milton lazily returned, not even breaking pace. 'I shouldn't have gotten that haircut,' He idly thought as he passed them. For some reason, he decided that he needed to look presentable for the higher-ups who had juggled him around with countless reports of what he had found aboard the lost Colony ship and had stopped at one of the barber shops on the station, there they had cut his mop of a mane into a grooming standard high and tight and also finely shaved his unkempt beard down to an aged white walrus mustache, and ever since then the servicemen and women aboard Plato Station had started saluting him up and down the station. Realistically, he knew it was because he was in uniform, but he blamed the haircut nonetheless.
Another announcement sang out some quick advertisement that Milton tuned out with a grumble; he hated these space stations; they were much too loud, but more importantly, a complete eyesore outside to in. Plato Station was one of the worst that Milton could recall having been to, probably around a thousand different ones over his career he thought; its bright white walls everywhere the eyes could see were particularly grating; no doubt the original idea was to make it seem clean and bright, but all it did was hurt Milton's eyes, much preferring the mottled grays of the Evelyn's Vain. It was also loud, forcing Milton to stop at a pharmacy and buy headache medication by the fistful the first day they were docked. Being a central hub for both military and civilian infrastructure, it was expected to be loud, but this was another level, with the massive stock market floor being placed within earshot of his hangar bay, which somehow he could hear over the huge repair arms and machinery working on the ships in the adjacent hangar bays that cacophonied 24/7 - being fully automated and all.
Stopping at a small rest area with color-coded directions, he nearly breathed a sigh of relief, there in red, pointing towards the nearby elevator marked "U.L.N Civil Military command Offices." A real mouthful Milton thought as he stepped into the elevator and pressed the button with a pleasant ding before letting out an actual sigh of relief at the sudden quiet; the elevators were soundproofed and let him escape the sounds of chaos for at least the brief moment it took to rise the few levels to the offices. He was due for another briefing, this time however he figured it would be pleasant as it was with an old friend from way back in his academy days.
The doors opened with another pleasant ding, and Milton stepped out into a small clean, flat brown-carpeted office. To his left were a couple of benches a couple of servicemen making small talk as if they were in a doctor's office, and to his right, an armed guard who, upon seeing him, threw a salute that Milton had ignored with an annoyed shake of his hand at him as he walked to the only important thing - the receptionist at the end of the room. Approaching it with a sigh, he said to the lady looking at him with a quirked eyebrow. "I'm here to see Admiral Cooper."
"Captain William Milton, I presume?"
"The one and only."
Throwing a thumb behind her shoulder, she responds with an air of finality, "Second door on your right; you can't miss it"
Milton gave a mumbled thank you and walked into the hall and straight to the door; curiously enough, it was made out of wood, a relatively rare but not unheard of material on space stations. Rapping his knuckle against it, he heard a muffled response: "Come in, William, your right on time." Turning the knob, he walked into a traditional office, with fancy wooden chairs in front of a heavy-looking oak desk that Admiral Cooper was sitting behind, amongst an endless spew of old antiques, like a desk lamp that still took bulbs.
Cooper was always one for items from a bygone age; it was a wonder he didn't have a parchment map across his desk. It was something Milton knew would never change about him in all the years he and Cooper had been friends. They were roughly the same age and had attended the same Military Academy together with a promise to keep in touch whenever they got a chance, and for the most part, had done so. Much like Milton, Cooper was not one for formalities and completely ignored the rank difference between them in private.
Picking up a small frame with a metal fragment inside titled "framework of the "Miss Augustine" First Colony ship to reach Eden" Milton joked to his old friend. "I see you've gambled away your yearly salary already on these old knick-knacks again."
Responding with a chuckle, Cooper responds his deep baritone voice filling the room, "I prefer to think of them as an investment opportunity. You never know when this stuff will come back in demand."
"Im sure those stock brokers below you are quivering in their pants." Clapping his hands together, Milton continues, pulling out one of the chairs for him to sit in "How's the family? Little Jack still in the Academy?"
Turning around a picture frame on his cluttered desk so that Milton can see, it's of his son Jack shaking hands with his instructor in a fresh white Service Uniform.
"Graduated last year, he's on the Totenwald working on the command deck."
"Good for him, that's a premium position he'll be behind the helm before we croak, I bet."
With a hearty chuckle at the remark about their advanced age, Cooper responds " I certainly hope so. Still, unless he gets command of a ship at 25 he isn't beating your record."
It was true Milton had earned the rank of Captain at 26 years old an almost unheard-of age to receive that achievement and had enjoyed a brief amount of popularity from it. It was how he met his wife.
Waving a hand in front of his face as if warding off evil spirits Milton adds, "It was a different time back then, looser regulations, and space was still a little bit more wild."
Coopers face was suddenly serious, "Do you regret it?"
"Regret what becoming a Captain?"
"No, I mean taking on that assignment that put you on the Evelyn for four decades. You have to of wondered at some point in your life, what things could have been if you didn't take command of her, you could have been commanding the entire Civil Military Fleet by now."
Milton stares past Cooper through the window of his office watching the crowds below in thought, they were like ants barely able to be noticed as individuals atop the tall building he was in. Finally, after a minute of contemplation, he responds
"For a while." He pauses. "For a while, I think I did, I mean how couldn't I, four years, four entire decades looking for something that disappeared like a ghost. I didn't know if it was stubbornness that kept me going, not wanting to leave a job unfinished, or the fear of coming back empty-handed that kept me going because for a good while I was miserable in that old rust boat. But," he pauses again tasting the words in his mouth before saying them with a growing smile. "It was worth it, all those years of suffering, it was worth it because I found one and no one believed that I would. But I did, and I'm going to find the other to mark my words, just as soon as that old bucket of scrap gets a fresh coat of paint."
Milton watched the smile fade from Cooper's brown face. Catching Milton off-guard "I'm sorry I have to tell you this Milton."
Milton smiles and interrupts before he can continue with a nervous chuckle. "What are you talking about?"
A heavy silence fills the air, and Milton's smile fades as he connects the dots, "No, no, no, you have to be kidding me; there's just no way. There is no way they are ending my assignment."
Cooper puts his hands together on the desk, a move he only did when he was nervous, something that Milton picked up on him doing during the Academy days.
"I'm sorry, Will, I tried to fight the bastards; I pulled every trick out of my sleeve- I delayed the meeting for 2 days to try and find something, but they have me cornered, they weren't even going to let me tell you because, of how close I am to you. I'm sorry."
Milton slumps into his chair, visibly distraught, "Don't fucking blame yourself for it; I know damn well you tried your hardest…."
A fit of sudden anger takes hold of him for a moment, and he raises his voice and rises from his seat with a pointed finger. "It's those U.L.N fucking bigwigs, isn't it? What is it too out of their budget? Too much money going into the assignment instead of their slimeball pockets, that's it, isn't it!"
He slumps back down as if exhausted by the outburst and leans his head in one of his hands. "We found it; we actually have a lead after four decades; why now of all times."
Cooper spins in his chair to face the open windows showing the main consumer area of Pluto Station and responds, a little heat rising in his voice, upset at how he felt as though he was betraying his friend. "The bastard's decided there was no point in looking for the last missing ship due to the ai only having the last report of its jump, that it would be a waste of time and money to find either nothing or another dead ship, and before you begin I tried to reason with them about the ai, it couldn't keep up contact with it because their ship got obliterated in a debris field within minutes, but they didn't care."
Milton sits in silence for a couple of minutes, staring at the back of Cooper's seat. An ancient grandfather clock slowly ticking away in time with his heartbeat. "So that's it, then they're terminating my op. What about my crew, then? And my ship?"
Cooper waits another moment, then swings around to face him, "Well, you know how those Military Civilian contracts work; you guys are employed on a job-to-job basis, so it's on to whatever they pick, and well… The Evelyn's Vain is set to be scuttled for parts; she's just too old of a ship for modern service."
Cooper suddenly stands up and walks towards an old globe of earth in the corner, turning out to be just an alcohol stand, and pulls a bottle out alongside two shot glasses before setting it on the table between them. It's some sort of Japanese whiskey; Milton never cared to learn the difference; it all went down the same. He grabs the bottle and pours a shot, then two, then three. They sat there for a while, spending the time in a crushing silence, eventually killing the whole bottle, mostly Milton's doing.
Slurring slightly, Milton speaks, "So then I guess im retiring then, I'm too old and decrepit to anything but desk work now, and that ain't no life, no offense, bud."
"None taken, Will, your right." Sighing he continues" I figured you would be done after the news anyways; so I took the liberty of grabbing your forms, you can sign the papers here if you want, and you'll be done with your service as soon as you step out the door." Cooper slid the papers to him with an overtly fancy pen on top.
A couple of minutes later, Milton was no longer a Captain; he always thought there would be a celebration. He had always planned to retire when he found the last colony ship, but the U.L.N had swiped the rug from him. He grabbed the bottle on the desk again turning it upwards into his mouth.
\-\
The artificial lights had grown dim on Plato Station, an indication that it was currently nighttime according to Galactic Standard, and Milton had found himself aimlessly wandering, looking for a bar somewhere to drown his sorrows. In his hand, he held a keycard that he turned over in confusion. Remembering suddenly he was reminded that Cooper had given him it saying that it would unlock the door to his hotel room that he had bought for him. He tossed it into a nearby garbage bin, he didn't need a hotel room he had the Evelyn's Vain… Oh, wait.
\-\
Decker had just dropped off his former Captain's personal belongings into his hotel room, a surprisingly small amount. He had been asked to do it by the Captain's friend Admiral Cooper, to which he had eagerly agreed, saying that it wasn't a problem. It wasn't considering he had booked the hotel room adjacent to Milton's by sheer luck.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, and with a sigh, he ignored it, already knowing what it was - another contract offer. As it turned out, he was somewhat of a desired rarity when it came to the Civil-Military Fleet; having served under a particularly well-known Captain had opened quite a few doors, and the U.L.N had been trying to poach him the very minute his contract on the Evelyn's Vain closed.
Stepping out of the hotel's lobby after descending several staircases revealed the dim artificial lighting of Plato Station. It appeared he had lost track of the time. Not that that mattered much, considering he was technically jobless at the moment. With a shrug, he decided to explore the station; it had been years since his last visit.
Decker considered Plato Station as an almost world wonders in terms of beauty. The way the massive station operated seemingly without error consistently impressed him with every visit; the white walls showed a unique sense of sophistication that the other space stations didn't have. It filled him with a nice calm feeling despite the shock earlier in the day. That is until he saw what looked to be a high-ranking officer digging into a garbage bin. He peered closer in morbid curiosity, wondering who it was, until the strange man's head popped up with a dirtied sleeve and a keycard in his hand.
"Captain Milton?" Decker asked, not believing his eyes and stepping closer.
Milton stumbled forward, closing the gap with Decker before briefly stumbling into him, forcing Decker to correct the posture of the aged man before he fell. With alcohol-ridden breath, he slurred in response,
"Decker, my boy, it's good to see you. How you been?"
"Captain, are you ok?" Decker asked, ignoring the drunken ramble that came out of Milton's mouth.
"No, no, I am not , and it's not Captain anymore; I'm retired now, thanks to those wolves in-."
Milton was beginning to fall again but corrected himself it interrupting his thoughts; as he did so, a shining light caught his eye. A glimmering fluorescent sign that read 'The War Room' a local bar on the station.
"Come on, Decker let's get a drink in the name of the Evelyns Vain, god I'll miss her." Without waiting for a response, Milton staggers towards the bar faster than any drunk person had any right to be going, leaving Decker standing briefly, shocked at his rapid departure. His phone buzzed again, shaking him out of it, and he went to chase after the Captain; the job offers could wait.
It seemed to Decker that there were two types of military bars, the ones that were constantly on the verge of violence teetered off only by the stern visage of the framed portrait of Chesty Puller on the wall as if he was saying, "Watch it Devil Dogs, save your energy for the enemy," those obviously enough were typically housed by marines and only marines. Then the other which, much like The War Room had upon entry, filled its surroundings with a dimly lit ambiance that sucked the energy out of all their patrons, leaving them with nothing but their minds to count out the days left until their contracts expired.
Milton was already slouching over the largely empty bar, seemingly having already talked the barkeeper into leaving the bottle. He was expectedly nursing a glass of liquor down from it when Decker spotted him out.
"This place hasn't changed one bit since I last been here," Milton says uncharacteristically, swinging himself lazily to the side of the bar stool to face Decker, who had just taken the seat next to him.
"You've been here before, Captain?" Decker hesitantly responds to his voice as if talking about the bar would make him drink more than the former Captain already had.
"Aye, about twenty or so odd years ago, it was right after I got the divorce papers from my then-wife, and it's not Captain anymore; just call me" he hangs on the word for a moment, "Just call me William or Will, hell we've known each other long enough to be on a first name basis at this point I would reckon."
Decker nods, "Very well Cap-William; I wasn't aware you were ever married. This is the first I'm hearing about it."
"It's why I named the ship what she was. Of course, it was a big joke back then; I didn't realize it would actually end up breaking us up. That's old news now, though, since the old bucket of bolts is getting scrapped."
Decker looks surprised and utters in disbelief, "There scrapping the Evelyn's Vain?"
Milton nods back and tops off another glass passing it to Decker, who grabs it without a thought. "They didn't tell the rest of the crew? I don't know why they're doing it; I mean, sure, she's an old ship, she was old when I was put under her command, but she was a damned reliable ship, and despite all those electrical issues, she still served her purpose with dignity. Far more dignity than the U.L.N bastards that signed her decommission papers. With any luck, they actually will scrap her; id rather her die here and now than be sold off in some junkyard for some pirates to use." Shaking his head for a moment, he changes the subject. "So, have they tried to poach you yet? I'm sure the Civil-Military Fleet is eager to get their hands on such a talented Commander."
Decker's hand subconsciously shoots to his phone, about to pull it out, then changes his mind fearing hurting his former Captain's feelings, and then lies, "No, no, they haven't just yet. Besides, it's too soon to be accepting another contract id like to enjoy a bit of a vacation before I'm back to the grind. Besides, it wouldn't hurt to wait out all of the pirate stuff that's been going on; we were lucky to avoid it being out of charted space like that; I heard that they use those areas as hideouts because they know the anti-pirate fleets don't patrol around there" Decker had changed the subject abruptly so he didn't have to keep talking about future employment, but as it turns out he didn't need to in the first place William had fallen asleep on the bars old counter with his head in his hands snoring lightly.
Decker looked at the Captain for a while before another buzz from his phone shook him from it. In a sudden anger, he pulls it out from his pocket and violently shuts it off with a growl. Captain Milton had mentored him over his entire career, and they expected him to just throw the man away after screwing him over like they had, not leaving him his ship. Decker wouldn't be accepting any jobs anytime soon, that was for sure. The Captain had taken care of him for just over thirteen years and was prepared to do the same for him, besides its not like his career choice gave him much room for leisure spending; he had amassed a fair amount of savings over the years, he could afford to spend a couple of months jobless.
Tapping the table with a knuckle, Decker calls over the barkeep, "I'll cover the Captain's tab, and could you call for a taxi? I don't think he's in any state to walk to our hotel."
"Of course, Commander, ill bring the bill over as soon as I do that."
