Briggs
FWS Independence
Dysons Sphere
Epsilon Eridini
Milky Way Galaxy
It was a breathtaking sight, one that Admiral Markus Briggs never thought he would witness in his lifetime. The Independence, a marvel of engineering and the largest Juggernaught ever built, had always commanded his admiration. Yet here, before him, was a megalithic ship slowly being consumed by a structure unfathomably larger than the mighty vessel itself, a sight that seemed almost too incredible to fathom. The Juggernaught Shipyards in the Jovian system were the only structures that could rival the size of the Juggernaughts, but even they paled in comparison. It felt akin to a fighter entering the hangar of the legendary Enterprise herself.
Choosing to remain on the observation deck, the Admiral took in the spectacular views, unwilling to disrupt the crew as they navigated the colossal ship into the belly of this technological beast. The Dyson Sphere was reputed to house advanced dry-dock facilities capable of overhauling the aging flagship, providing the much-needed upgrades and repairs that were vital for the Independence's future. This final flight into Eugene Station marked a significant transition for him; retirement from the navy was finally within reach, and the political arena beckoned as his next calling. His decorated career had earned him a reputation as a man of faith, dignity, and unwavering morals, garnering him considerable respect within the upper echelons of society—a realm he often preferred to avoid, yet could not deny had its advantages. Over the years, he had faced mounting calls for his presidential candidacy from both military leaders and the general populace, all urging him to consider what such a role might entail. When President Jeffery Hammond personally approached him, requesting that he run as his replacement in the upcoming electoral cycle, the Admiral found himself unable to refuse.
"This is it, Marvin," he mused softly to his beloved keepsake, Marvin the Martian, who had been his constant companion throughout his illustrious career. "An end to an era, and the beginning of a new one. What do you say we tackle the next eight years together?" He watched with a mix of nostalgia and pride as the Independence gracefully docked with the dry-dock section of Eugene Station.
"Attention all hands, Independence has successfully docked with Eugene Station," crackled the voice of the current Officer of the Deck over the ship's intercom. The Admiral did not recognize the voice; it must belong to a new officer in training. "Powering down all internal power, switching to station-keeping systems."
Briggs placed a hand on the bulkhead of the ship he had called home for what felt like an eternity. Quieting his mind, he reached deep into his soul and offered a heartfelt prayer. "My friend, my protector, my home, my very essence; may you take comfort from Psalm 147:3: 'He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. Rest well.'" As he shut his eyes, memories flooded his mind—each moment spent aboard the mighty Juggernaught, each life saved, and every challenge faced together. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he stood by the observation viewport for as long as he could bear, refusing to leave just yet. The bond he shared with the Independence was profound, a connection that resonated deep within him. Quieting his tumultuous thoughts, he could almost hear the ship groaning in sadness at the prospect of losing him, a silent farewell between two old friends.
His reverie was abruptly interrupted when his com unit buzzed to life.
"Admiral Briggs, my apologies for the interruption," Captain Olivia Smith's voice came through, professional yet tinged with urgency. "Captain Donavan requests your presence, along with the Joint Chiefs, the President, and his cabinet, either in person or via holo in the Situation Room."
"Joseph, or Heidi—no, don’t tell me. It doesn’t matter; neither of them has that level of authority. What are they thinking?" His frustration bubbled beneath the surface as he spoke, but he understood the gravity of the situation.
"Well, they don’t have that authority. However, when Joseph spoke to the C.N.O., he also spoke to the SecDef, who authorized the request. But first, I need your presence in Port Hopper Bay Fifteen."
The Admiral sighed, feeling the weight of expectation on his shoulders. Everyone seemed to need him everywhere, all at once, as if he were a lifeline in a storm. Such were the perks of being an Admiral, he reminded himself.
"Well, Marvin," Briggs said, bringing the toy up to meet his gaze. "I suppose we should get used to this. This may very well be our life for the next four to eight years." He flicked the head of the toy, and Marvin the Martian nodded in silent agreement.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
Taking one last look out the viewport at the massive inner structure of the Dyson Sphere, he marveled at its beauty before glancing around the observation deck. The familiar old military design was steeped in history, and he felt a wave of nostalgia wash over him as he began his journey toward the hatch. He committed to memory the sound of each 'hiss' as he passed through the hatchways, walking slowly down the corridors from Section C5ALPHA6 to C5ALPHA9. As he approached the lift, he paused at C5ALPHA8, entranced by the alluring aroma of Ceresian carrot stew wafting through the air. Unable to resist, he paused to take in the comforting smells. His stature as a highly decorated Admiral was evident, as everyone in the room stopped what they were doing and saluted him with respect. They all understood this was his final passage through these halls; he was retiring, after all.
Resuming his walk toward the lift at the end of the corridor, he took deliberate steps, each heartbeat resonating with the weight of his transition. One life was ending, while another was poised to begin. The hatch hissed open to reveal a small chamber, and as he entered, he heard the familiar voice of the ship's A.I.
"Destination?"
"Hopper Bay Fifteen."
"Acknowledged. Deck Eighty-Seven, Section Forty-Two Alpha Nine," the A.I. responded. Juggernaught ships were so massive that it was unreasonable to expect the crew to know the precise deck of anything, let alone its subsection. All a crew member needed to do was ask the A.I. where they wanted to go, and it would guide them to the nearest lift exit.
As the hatch hissed open, the air in the corridor brimmed with life. Admiral Markus Briggs nearly stumbled at the sight that greeted him. The corridor was lined from end to end, wall to wall, with enlisted servicemen standing at full attention and saluting, marking the way toward the Hopper Bay. He removed his uniform hat and tucked it under his arm, a giant smile spreading across his face as he looked at each sailor, and the occasional Marine who had joined the send-off party. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes as he took each step, inching closer to the hatch. As he reached the end, a naval sendoff whistle blared, and the men and women in the corridor erupted in a unified shout of "HOORAH!" Their feet stomped in succession, turning toward the Admiral as they opened the hatchway. Before him stood an entire launch bay, almost entirely filled with more service members, and one VIP Military Hopper—Air Force One. He took in the scene, noticing the podium where Captain Olivia Smith, Rear Admiral William Hayes, and President Hammond awaited him.
"Present. Attention!" a voice boomed, and every military personnel in the room snapped to full attention. Admiral Briggs made his way up to the podium, saluting everyone in the room, including his superiors.
"Admiral, Mr. President. It's an honor," Briggs said, his voice steady despite the emotions swirling within him.
Captain Smith was the first to take the comm unit. "Admiral Briggs, it has been an absolute honor to serve under you. While I had full operational command of this ship, I often turned to your guidance; not many commanding officers can say that. You have not only been an outstanding Commanding Officer, but I also considered you like a father to me, my officers, and our enlisted crew. The F.W.S. Independence will be losing her soul today, but you have earned your rest. May it be as powerful as your spirit was while serving with us."
Admiral Hayes then took the comm unit. "Admiral Markus Briggs, it has come to my attention that you should have received a promotion years ago, yet you refused it, claiming you didn’t want a desk job. Well, you can’t stop me this time; you’re not retired yet. By the authority of the Department of the Navy of the United Federation of Nations, I hereby grant you the rank of Rear Admiral. You’ve earned it, Markus!" The room erupted in a chorus of "HOORAH!" "Markus, you have been the best field Admiral the Navy has ever produced. You are the most respected among our men and women. We have more transfer requests under your command than we can approve. Honestly, Markus, you would make a good president, but your talents are better served in my position."
Briggs saluted Admiral Hayes as he pinned the third echelon on his shoulder, a symbol of his new rank. Finally, President Hammond took the comm unit. "Admiral—no, sorry—Rear Admiral Markus Briggs, you have served this great nation with dignity, honor, respect, and with a courage that hasn’t been seen in decades. I am proud to present to you The United Federation of Nations Medal of Honor!"
"HORAH!" the crowd cheered as the President pinned the medal to the Admiral's uniform.
Briggs felt a swell of pride within him, and as the moment shifted to his opportunity to speak, he noticed the press in the room. A sense of ambush washed over him, but he recognized that this was the right time to step into the public eye. "Thank you, Mr. President, Admiral Hayes, Captain Smith. It has been an honor to serve the Federation in every conceivable way. I am reminded of Ephesians 6:10-11 'Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes.' My time and duties as an Admiral of this great nation have come to an end. My tour of duty is over, but my service to the Federation is not. Today, I am proud to announce my candidacy for President of the Federation of Nations!"
Military decorum quickly evaporated as every man and woman in the room erupted into cheers. Admiral Briggs was beloved by nearly all—if not all—military personnel who had ever served under him, as well as those who knew others who had.
Several long minutes passed, filled with more words exchanged and cheers that drowned out the messages being shared, when the President leaned in close to Markus and whispered in his ear, "We need to meet in the Situation Room as soon as possible—not as Candidate Markus, but as Admiral Briggs. You’re still an Admiral." Admiral Briggs smiled and waved to the crowd, nodding in understanding, aware that something significant needed to be discussed. He felt the weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders, yet he knew he must project calm, control, and confidence to everyone else. His leadership skills would elevate him beyond the role of President, guiding him into whatever awaited him next.