Nagash Sector, Startraveler Aurora
The Startraveler Aurora floated through space under the easy acceleration of her main engines. Her elegant hull curved at the fore, and folded over itself outward at the rear like the pleats of a skirt. This layering bloom served a purpose of course – critical for dispersing the strain energy absorbed during FTL maneuvers. Upon reentry to normal space, the Aurora’s hull glowed momentarily, shedding off the strain energy as heat. That energy-shedding allowed the Aurora to sustain more frequent and more difficult FTL maneuvers, but the technology that enabled it was complex, and rather fragile. As such, the Aurora was not meant to endure physical damage. She was a small and maneuverable ship equipped with magnetic shields.
In that sense, the Aurora may well have been the Singularity’s opposite, and the reality of that fact had not settled in on Lord Protector Borealis until he viewed the Singularity’s silhouette through the Aurora’s telescopes. The Aurora was designed to endure FTL using technology precisely adapted to that purpose. The Singularity endured the stress and strain of FTL through sheer strength, brute-forcing her way through every maneuver. Like all of Command’s ships, the Singularity’s structure had been built to directly sustain those forces. The complexities of an energy dispersion system like the Aurora’s would be of little use to a ship that was expected to take damage in combat. The Aurora’s shields could protect the system’s delicate mechanics, but the Singularity possessed no shields. Instead, she’d been heavily armored from bow to stern. Building a ship like that: with multitudes of structural redundancies and physical armor thick enough to be protective, that was beyond the means of humanity’s individual nations. The material demands were simply too much. It was more cost effective to build smaller ships with greater technical reliance.
Lord Protector Borealis had been proud of that fact. He had been certain the Coalition’s advanced technology – great enough to rival that of the central worlds – could compensate for any material gap. While not as large or armored as the centralized government’s battleships, the Coalition’s national guard was vastly capable in its own right. Now, however, having seen the Singularity’s scarred armor for himself, Borealis found himself doubting the Royal Guard’s capabilities for the first time. He had seen pictures of the Singularity before. She was an old ship, historic for her service in the Hydrian War. When he was sent to find the ship, Borealis had studied the Singularity’s appearance in detail – factually known her great size and proportions. Yet, it had not occurred to him that most images of the ship had been taken outside combat. In every photograph he had seen, the Singularity’s main battery guns had been lowered into their stowed position. Like that, the guns were still visible, so obvious in fact it had not occurred to Borealis that they had been stowed… until he saw them raised. Only then was their true size put into perspective.
The Singularity carried the largest artillery guns ever mounted on a mobile platform. That had been a consequence of the Hydrian War. Borealis had been educated in the history of such tactics during his training to become the Lord Protector. The Royal Guard ships’ electromagnetic shielding technology was derived from the Hydra. The Cassiopeia Coalition had survived the War by reverse-engineering and bettering Hydrian technology to fight on par with the Empire, but the central worlds had chosen a different path. Hydrian shielding utilized electromagnetism to redirect artillery and energy just enough to miss the target. Unable to reliably penetrate that shielding, Command had increased the size of their artillery to shells that simply had too much mass to be redirected. It had been a simple, brutal solution, and the Singularity the result. A ship of unmatched physical prowess, she’d been built to kill Hydrian battleships whose shielding made them untouchable to the rest of Command’s fleet.
By all accounts, the Singularity had been a success in her original purpose – solely credited with halting the Hydrian advance toward the central worlds. Every aspect of the ship’s design had been tempered toward the slaughter of ships more technologically advanced than her. Rarely used, a pair of twin railguns were mounted in the Singularity’s bow, and their barrels ran a good portion of the ship’s length, a sort of spinal column. The power required for those rail cannons’ full charge was far, far beyond what the Aurora could provide and contain. The railguns’ projectiles, the size of a small house, would have been positively devastating on a direct hit, but that wasn’t their purpose. Classified as an anti-fleet weapon system, the railguns were calibrated to pass through Hydrian formations and allow the strong magnetic charge imparted on the projectile to disrupt Hydrian EM shielding.
Lord Protector Borealis had no question such a tactic would work on the Coalition’s shielding technology. The longer he considered it, bringing the Singularity into their sovereign space felt more and more like bringing a viper into a rabbit’s nest. But, he supposed, if the snake could be tamed to protect the nest, the rabbits would be all the better for it.
But the Singularity wasn’t the only variable in that equation. While the ship herself was deadly, by all appearances, Admiral Gives was her equal. He had taken and held the position of Fleet Admiral for twenty-two years. That title, earned by combat, was granted to the victor of the UCSC fleet’s War Games, an annual competition where the competition was often stacked against the reigning champion. However, in the twenty-two years he had been permitted to compete, William Gives had never lost. The only blemish on his record was a stalemate that resulted from an act of sabotage. Despite that, Gives had still managed to fight a disabled ship into a draw.
Perhaps in that, Lord Protector Borealis could understand the Empress’ interest. With Gives’ experience in the War Games, there was no finer tactician in the worlds to stand against Command. That said, Gives had a reputation for being more than a tactician. He’d been a problem-solver for Command for years – decades even. When issues arose and challenges to the central worlds’ authority were made, he was the one dispatched to quell the dissent. In some cases, he negotiated, in others, laid down threats or battled, but he’d become infamous for those threats he simply erased – never a tic of pity or remorse in his disposition.
In all, Borealis found the man to be a rather unfavorable character. Gives’ disposition was very steady, almost disinterested in most cases, but his motives remained unclear. Why would he stay in the service of a government that had done its best to get rid of him? And why, once he had earned that government’s respect through massacre after massacre, would he opt to ruin his career by taking remote patrols and denying every promotion offered to him? Truly, it made very little sense. At the height of his fame, Fleet Admiral Gives had been one of the most powerful people in the worlds. He’d held great political influence – enough to have his brother named the Secretary of Defense for the centralized government – yet he had done little else with that power. He had strayed from political appearances, even appearances at military conferences. He had never reveled in the attention of the media the way that Charleston Reeter did. He had simply used his authority over the fleet to assign his own ship to long, solitary patrols.
That was why people called him mad. No one with the kind of influence Gives had achieved would turn from it. No one given the chance to chart the course of humanity would decline it. Everyone had dreams, had intents: domination, ultimate freedom, the elimination of poverty or something else entirely. Yet, Gives had done his best to fade into the background, maintaining enough authority to ensure solitude, but interfering no further in the rest of the worlds’ affairs.
Lord Protector Borealis simply couldn’t make sense of it. For such an infamously logical personality, Gives behaved oddly. Borealis considered it concerning. The Coalition would surely not find the ally it needed in someone like that.
Rubbing his temples, Borealis considered the report he would have to give as he sat in the Aurora’s command chair. Placed centrally on the bridge, the command chair was a fine piece of technology that allowed instantaneous insight into the condition of the ship. It controlled nothing directly, the Aurora’s highly trained crew operated the ship’s various systems, but it gave Borealis an immediate knowledge of the ship’s condition without having to request it. The Coalition had found the availability of such information greatly improved reaction time.
Still, that preparedness was far from Borealis’ mind today. He was troubled, and the crew hardly needed him to supervise their journey home. He stood from his seat and straightened the cobalt blue sash that cut across his duty jacket. His white pants fell into place, perfectly pressed. White, a color of nobility and honor in the Coalition’s tradition, was donned by all the crew. Borealis had been proud of that spotless uniform, but after seeing the Singularity’s bridge in its blood-splattered state, it occurred to him how fragile that illusion of nobility was, how easily it could be soiled.
Borealis had never considered himself squeamish before, but he supposed no one was when combat remained a far-off fantasy. He turned to his second in command exhaustedly. “Set course for the Riddick Sector. I shall be in my quarters.”
The officer saluted stiffly as Borealis moved past. The door to exit the bridge swished open quietly as he approached, closing behind him once he’d moved a few steps beyond. The captain’s quarters were near the bridge, a convenience in case of emergency, but the quarters of the rest of the crew were a few decks lower.
The door to the captain’s quarters opened upon his approach, the lights brightening gently to greet his arrival. A large screen dominated one wall of the room, and the rest were left plain. The Aurora was his personal command, but Borealis spent far more of his time in Citadel City and hadn’t bothered to decorate his room. He rarely spent more than a few consecutive days aboard ship, but that would be changing soon. As tensions rose between humanity’s worlds, he and the rest of the Coalition’s Royal Guard would be increasing the frequency and duration of their patrols.
In front of the wall screen, there was a small, sleek table. It had a brushed metal finish like many of the Aurora’s fixtures, durable, yet easy to keep clean. Its edges were carefully rounded, calibrated for the utmost ergonomic comfort, and the controls for the screen were built into it. Borealis took a moment to center his sash and fix the way the gold chains fell from the epaulets on his shoulders, then reached out. He had to do nothing but activate the system, for it only linked to one other terminal, and the recipient was waiting.
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The screen powered on, brightening the room a bit, and the elegant visage of the Empress appeared, the live feed of the throne room perfectly clear. She sat upon her carved gold and ivory throne, a brilliantly silver dress cascading off her figure as its long, flowing sleeves pooled in her lap. “Lord Protector,” she greeted, her voice not muffled at all by the porcelain mask affixed to her face. “Have you succeeded in your mission?”
Borealis cross his arm over his chest in a salute of greeting, but knew better than to delay answers with formalities. “Not yet, my lady.”
“Were there complications?” she asked, her regal tone undisturbed.
“Not directly.” Borealis supposed that was something to be grateful for. “We did find the Singularity. She was right where the fixer told us she would be.”
The Empress shifted to bush her dark, silky hair behind her shoulders, an indication of interest, while the white mask upon her face concealed her expression. “And you made contact?”
“Yes, my lady.”
“But Gives did not agree to a meeting?”
“No, my lady, he did not.” Borealis did not consider his objective failed, but that wrinkle had certainly damaged his pride. “I understand our timing was not ideal. The Singularity had engaged in severe combat, both internally and externally, but I offered all our aid and an escort back to Venorria.”
“Yet, he declined it.”
“Yes, my lady, he did, though he did say he would consider meeting us in the Riddick Sector.” Borealis hung his head, “I must say, however, I feel it is unlikely he will seek us out.”
“This is as expected, Lord Protector,” the Empress spoke, the sound of her voice drifting past her mask’s red-painted lips. “I did not expect him to follow you back.”
Borealis furrowed his brows. “Then why take the risk?” If this objective had been destined to fail, why send the Aurora so far beyond the Coalition’s bounds?
“These things take time, Lord Protector. You are young, you do not yet know the ways of these worlds.” Nothing was so simple. “I seek a meeting with Admiral Gives, but I knew he would be reluctant. No one who has split from one government so recently would wish to ally with another so soon, but you have planted the seed. Just as we know the Steel Prince’s reputation, he shall surely know ours. Curiosity is a wonderful thing. He will wonder why we sought him out, what we might offer, what we might provide. And he may wait until support becomes necessary, but it surely shall. Only a handful of nations have the means to provide for a ship of the Singularity’s stature, and our Coalition is one of them.” When the time came and the Singularity needed fuel, needed repair, the Admiral would be forced to consider where he may find port. Having made contact already, the Cassiopeia Coalition would be the first he considered. “Proceed to the Riddick Sector, Lord Protector. Wait your allotted time. I do think Gives may surprise you.”
“You believe he will come?”
“I will not rule out the possibility,” she said. “He chose the Riddick Sector for a reason. That sector is near our sovereign space.” Not within the Coalition’s borders, but near them. “That is a gesture of goodwill.” It was a subtle gesture, but one that should not be ignored. “In setting the meeting near our space, he has enabled you to travel back toward Venorria, and made it safer for you to linger.” Admiral Gives very easily could have set the meeting in a more distant sector and isolated the Aurora further, but he had chosen not to.
“That said, my lady, do you truly believe this is the wisest course of action?” Borealis took no enjoyment in questioning the Empress, but the facts of Gives’ history concerned him. “His allegiance would benefit us greatly, but if he decides we are an adversary, I fear it may cost us dearly.”
“That is why we are not taking the chance, Lord Protector.” There was far too much at stake. “You know what our objective requires.”
“Yes, my lady, I do.”
“Then we must not flinch now.” The Coalition could not afford it. “Civil war is inevitable, and our Coalition is too prosperous to be ignored.” Though it was isolated out here on the western side of humanity’s territory, the Coalition had grown quite large. Even if the Coalition attempted to stay neutral, some force would eventually attack, hoping to prevent the Coalition from aiding the enemy. Paranoia was a devastating enemy to peace. “I have seen this before, Lord Protector. More than once.” Humanity had been trapped in the same inevitable cycle for centuries. Technological stagnation strained resources and the human survival instinct meant they tended toward selfishness. Eventually, that created a stratified society where few hoarded enormous amounts of wealth, and many were desperate to attain it. The Frontier Rebellion had progressed very similarly just a few decades ago, and there had been other wars before that. Even the Coalition, now so strongly united, had suffered an internal conflict centuries ago – the very conflict that had given rise to the Eternal Empress’ reign.
Borealis nodded, “I understand.” The Empress’ pale skin was flawless, and he had seen the face behind that mask. The woman upon that throne was young, perhaps even a few years his junior, but the Empress was eternal. Her wisdom dated back centuries, passed so accurately from one body to another, that they were all considered to be of one mind. This was the eighth body to sit upon that throne, but there had only been one Eternal Empress. She knew the cycles of humanity because she had seen them, weathered them before, always ensuring the survival of the Cassiopeia Coalition. “Has there been news, my lady?”
“Not yet. Tensions on the Frontier continue to rise. Attendance was down at the last gathering of the Ariean Central Council.” That could hardly be a surprise. National governments stopped sending representatives when they felt there was no point. “Our informants within Command indicate that Reeter will have a promotion waiting for him upon his return, but he and the Flagship Olympia are still en route to a remote sector. They are not due to return for at least another week.”
“Is that not odd, my lady?” Borealis questioned. “He left so abruptly.” The New Era Movement, headed by Reeter was a political juggernaut. There was no question that Reeter would be taking a higher seat of power within Command – and likely within the centralized government to follow – but his departure from Ariea had been sudden. He had left just hours after Gives’ secession.
“Command has no precedent for their Fleet Admiral severing ties to the institution, then being tried and convicted in absentia of treason,” the Empress told him. “Reeter was named the interim Fleet Admiral following Gives’ departure, and there remains an empty seat among the Generalty.” The fleet typically employed three generals, but one of those slots had been essentially vacant since General Clarke’s death.
“But Reeter is young, is he not?” Borealis himself was rather young, but the Coalition had different rules. A new Lord Protector was named for every woman who sat upon the Coalition’s throne. He, though he knew not why, had been chosen to serve this term. However, that tradition was not abided in the military of the unified republic. Typically, experience and ambition prompted promotions more than anything else.
“That promotion made him the second-youngest Fleet Admiral in Command’s history.” Reeter’s carefully crafted public image and powerful connections had skyrocketed him to the upper echelons of Command, granting him authority well beyond his experience. “Reeter is a gifted tactician. He championed every War Game that Admiral Gives did not participate in.” In that, Reeter’s promotion was seemingly deserved and he was the logical choice to fill the void in the Generalty, despite his youth.
“And what of Reeter’s allies, my lady?”
“The Erans have great numbers. Many worlds are being lured toward conflict. Unfortunately, they are blind to the fact that the New Era Movement is supporting both them and their enemy. The masses do not truly understand the Erans’ goal.” The New Era touted an ideal utopia, worlds where everyone could live in plenty with true equality. People in such stratified worlds believed in that, craved that – never realizing that the path to utopia was paved with selective slaughter. “This civil war will serve to identify the biological, technological and ideological strengths of humanity’s various populations. It will highlight the strongest among us, and kill the weaker.” Unfortunately, war had a habit of advancing the worlds in ways that peace could not.
Puppeteered by the New Era, the looming civil war would wipe out populations deemed unworthy, culling the population of the worlds. The humans that survived would live in plenty because there would be far less competition for resources. Eventually, the New Era aimed to unify the remains of humanity under one ideology, one that never quarreled amongst itself again, creating a perfect race that lacked in cruelty and suffering. That end goal allowed Reeter truly believe himself a savior to a self-destructive species, despite the violence that would create his utopia.
“Then it seems inevitable?” Borealis wondered.
The Empress shifted upon her throne, the movement causing her silver dress to shimmer in the warm light of the throne room. “I do not believe anything can stop what the New Era has set in motion, Lord Protector. Those ideals have been seeded amongst the worlds for far too long.” This act had been in motion since the end of the Frontier Rebellion. “But I cannot allow my citizens to be needlessly slaughtered. Our nation does not hunger for resources. Our population is stable, is peaceful. But the New Era will test us like all others.” They would be pitted against other nations, other populations over and over again to prove their worth. “Even if we submit to Eran rule, we will be asked to test and cull our own population.” Perhaps then, the Coalition would see its first internal conflict in three hundred years of history. “I must be frank, Lord Protector. I expect the worlds to be enveloped in civil war within months, if not weeks. Your mission is critical.”
Borealis was no stranger to pressure. He felt it in every public address he gave, in every moment he served the Empress directly, but this was a new kind of pressure. This was the kind of pressure that determined the fate of his worlds, and he found himself desperately longing for the vaulted ceilings and golden columns of the Coalition’s capital. That, at least, would be familiar to him. “I understand the Singularity would be an asset to us, Empress. Gives is a very gifted tactician, but his loyalty appears fragile at best. Would it not be better to begin construction on a battleship of our own? We have the Singularity’s schematics.”
“We have part of the Singularity’s design prints. The Constancy-class build was blacklisted after the Frontier Rebellion,” and attempting the recreation of blacklisted tech would certainly draw the ire of the central worlds. “Most of the Singularity’s technical documents were purged in accordance with the blacklisting. Command retained some, but not all. Gives burned a significant amount more before our agents could attain them.”
“Our scientists could interpolate, my lady.” A ship like the Singularity was not the most advanced creation. She was an old, a blunt weapon, not an advanced one, though effective nonetheless.
“It took the combined effort of all humanity’s worlds five months to build the Singularity. It would take our shipyards significantly longer.” The designs would have to be recreated, material sourced, then personnel hired and equipment relocated. “That will be too late, Lord Protector.”
“I understand,” he said. “Then the Aurora will make best speed toward the Riddick Sector and pray that Gives proves willing to meet.”