Fleet Advanced Research Facility

Admiral Strane in Command

Location: Classified

"What is it?" Admiral Strane asked, pointing a crooked finger at a pile of clutter strewn across a lab table.

Dr. Mikel Stromm looked up and followed her finger to a small obelisk-shaped device poking up out of the jumble. 

"I am not entirely sure, admiral," he admitted grudgingly, brushing aside an unruly lock of silver hair which had worked it's way back out from behind his ear. "But I have a theory."

Admiral Strane lifted a thin black brow, impatiently. "The suspense is palpable," she said dryly, her perpetually surly manner souring further. "Don't make me ask, doctor."

Mikel kowtowed, then continued.

"I believe it is a multi-tool used by galactic travelers."

Admiral Strane picked the device up and peered at it carefully.

It was smooth, small enough to rest in her palm, charcoal grey and alien, but oddly familiar in her hands.

"Are those lenses?" She asked, pointing at one of several tiny aperture-like triangles positioned all across the device.

Mikel arched a thin brow.

"Excellent, Admiral," he said with mild surprise. She was whipcrack smart and astute, a dangerous combination for one with her malicious disposition. He would need to be extra cautious with her lurking about. "Yes, we believe those are lenses. And a few sensors sprinkled in there, too."

The good doctor did his best to hide his distaste for her beneath a mask of indifference. But knowing how she'd ascended to the rank of admiral made it a difficult task. And it wasn't her long list of humanitarian deeds which had fast-tracked her to the top.

"For what purpose?" Her words cut into his thoughts like a razor.

Mikel regarded her coolly.

"They could serve any number of purposes," he answered her narrowed eyes. "We just don't have enough information to say with any level of certainty. Not yet."

"Then guess, doctor," she spat in his face. "Isn't that what you lot do here?"

Mikel adjusted his spectacles, cleared his throat, and gathered his thoughts. 

"Well, Admiral," he began, pointing at a tiny circle no larger than a pinhead. "We believe that it is a dual-purpose sensor. Functioning both as a proximity sensor and--"

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

"I don't need to know all the science mumbo jumbo behind it, doctor," the Admiral cut him off. "I just need to know what the hell it does and if we can benefit from reverse engineering it."

"Oh..." Said Mikel, who appeared a little flustered, smoothed his lab coat, and looked the Admiral straight in those predator-black eyes. "It is most likely a translation device."

"That's it?" She seemed unconvinced. "Nothing else hidden in there? Spying devices, explosives, biological agents, etc.?"

"Sorry to disappoint the warmongers at fleet," his voice went thin and flat. "There are no weapons to be had."

He was a scientist, a researcher. He wanted to know the who, what, and why, because the science behind it fascinated him. He had no interest in reverse engineering agents of destruction. But it was now clear to him what the admiral wanted. And he was oddly disappointed, but not surprised.

"The technology behind it is far more advanced than anything we've seen before," he confessed, adjusting his glasses and once more considering surgery. "But on a rudimentary level, it is no different than a voice-activated vocab matrix."

The admiral's frown darkened into a scowl.

"That's it?" She seemed appalled. "A stupid fucking translation box?"

Mikel suppressed a sudden urge to smile.

"It has a few more bells and whistles to it," he replied, shrugging his rail-thin shoulders. "Mysteries, we haven't quite puzzled out yet, but essentially, yes."

Admiral Strane put her eyes an inch from his own.

"That's it?"

He could see the hair-fine vessels in the whites of her eyes. Mikel cleared his throat but didn't look away.

"That's it, Admiral."

Her eyes narrowed until the red vessels were gone.

"What about the creature we captured?" She demanded with more than a little disgust tainting her words. "Have you been able to communicate with it yet?"

Mikel nodded reluctantly.

"Indeed, Admiral, we have," he answered, glancing over at the sealed interview room where linguist Marissa Staulworth was working with the alien to sketch out essential communications. "Professor Staulworth is working on it as we speak."

Admiral Strane peered impatiently through the one-way glass.

"The process is slow," he lamented, shuffling up beside her. "But the good doctor is the best linguist in Fleet, or anywhere for that matter. It won't be long before she has a working model."

Admiral Strane regarded the alien in much the same manner one might look at an insect. Disgust and hatred stained her eyes.

"If it were up to me," she hissed out the words. "We would have disposed of that disgusting thing the moment we captured it."

She resented the weaklings in the halls of Fleet who dictated she treat these creatures humanely. They weren't even human! How appalling to have such beasts mingling with humankind!

When this war with the lizardmen was finally won, and she had no doubts that it would be. She would use all of the power of her wealth and rank of admiral to push for Fleet to bring the rest of the galaxy to heel under Human rule. It was the only way to ensure that something like this never happened again.

"Admiral?" Dr. Stromm considered her with a furrowed brow. "Are you well?"

She waved away his concern with a flick of her hand.

"However," she continued pointedly, her voice cold, a vat of liquid helium. "Despite my protests, my superiors want it to remain unharmed, for now."

She turned toward him, and the evil he saw in her eyes sent a shiver of frost racing down his spine and pushed him back a step.

"How many different species are out there?" She shouted. "I want technology and threat levels. Locations, languages, arsenals. I mean EVERYTHING, doctor!"

She slammed a fist down on her palm.

"These are the things we NEED to know."

She stared at him for a long moment, then turned away. 

"And when you are sure that there is nothing else to be gleaned," her voice was filled with venom. "You will quietly dispose of that thing in there."

Mikel's eyes widened in horror as she shouldered past toward the door.

"And Doctor," she spoke from the doorway without looking back.  "Make it look like an accident. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Admiral."