Chapter 3 : Flight of the Sentinels
Captain Harris.
Captain Harris sat at his desk aboard the SS Astraion, a stack of forms and requisitions lay before him, each one requiring his signature and stamp of approval.
From his office viewing screen Harris could see the swirling clouds of the gas giant Jupiter looming in the distance. The military ship was currently holding orbit around this massive planet and its myriad of moons. The Jovian system had always been a nexus for piracy, rebellion, and other illicit activities thanks to its strategic location along major space lanes. As such, it constantly demanded a military patrol presence.
His gaze drifted past the planet, drifting to the vast expanse of space, remembering how it felt to soar through that inky blackness in his F-23 fighter. Those had been glorious days, chasing adventure and defending the territories of the Sol Federation with a squadron of elite pilots by his side. Now at 50 years old, the Federation had decided he was too valuable to risk on such missions. His weathered face betrayed the disappointment he felt at being relegated to a “soft” job after three decades of service.
With a sigh, he turned back to the pile of paperwork. His piercing eyes scanned each form meticulously before adding his distinctive signature with a flourish.
A young ensign entered, carrying another stack of forms requiring the captain's approval. Harris noted the way the ensign straightened immediately upon meeting his gaze. Despite his newfound bureaucratic duties, he seemed to always maintain an aura of command, quiet strength and dignity.
He gave a curt nod, acknowledging the young officer's salute before taking the paperwork and waving him away. The ensign hurried off, his boots clicking rapidly against the deck plating.
With an inward chuckle, he reached for his official stamp, the one he'd had engraved with the jokingly sarcastic title, "Captain Authorizer." If he was fated to be a bureaucrat, he may as well have fun and embrace it. He was a man who had faced death innumerable times without flinching. Forms and paperwork hardly represented a challenge worthy of fear.
The heavy thunk of the stamp against the next form echoed through the still office air. Captain John "The Duke" Harris had reports to review and forms to sign, and the Sol Federation's armies marched on his paperwork.
It’s going to be a long day.
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Harris knew that in approximately six standard Sol hours, the Astraion would be passing by his home moon of Europa. The thought caused a familiar pang of wistful longing. He could vividly picture the pale, ice-covered surface, the winding glacier crevasses, and the deep blue oceans churning beneath that frozen crust. Most of all, he could see his little cabin nestled along the Glacier River where he used to spend his limited leave time fly-fishing its pristine, alien waters.
A small smile crept across the captain's face as he reminisced about those cherished memories. The gentle tug of a line as a massive Europan icetrout stirred from the depths. The spray of droplets across his face as the fish broke through the mirrored surface. The laughter and tranquillity of those peaceful expeditions.
Those days seemed so long ago now. Absorbed in the escalating conflicts and ever-growing responsibilities of his long military career, he'd missed so many opportunities to visit that distant moon and recapture a small slice of peace. Perhaps once this latest patrol rotation was complete...
A flashing notification across his desk monitor pulled Harris' attention back to the present. Another video conference requesting his presence. Another briefing or debriefing or strategy session. With a weary sigh, he tapped the accept button and straightened his uniform. His momentary lapse of wistful nostalgia would have to wait.
Accepting the call the comms screen flickered to life and a young man's face appeared. "Captain Harris. Good day. Please hold for a call from General Ramirez," the aide said, his tone crisp and professional.
Ramirez? Harris thought, his brow furrowing slightly. I haven't spoken to her in a long while. His mind drifted back, trying to recall the last time he had seen or spoken to his former superior.
Before he could reminisce further, the screen flickered again, and a familiar face appeared. "Hello Luke," Ramirez greeted warmly, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she offered a genuine smile. "How are you?"
Harris couldn't help but return the smile. Ramirez looked as youthful and fit as the first time he had met her, her appearance a testament to the benefits of upper government age restriction therapy, keeping her in her prime.
"Hello General," Harris replied, a hint of playfulness in his tone.
Ramirez's expression softened, and she chided him good-naturedly, "Now, now Harris, there is no need for such formalities. We have known each other for too long for that."
Harris chuckled, the familiar banter putting him at ease. "Yes, I know. But I love teasing," he countered, his eyes sparkling with mirth. "What can I do for you Sophia, I doubt this is a social call? "
Ramirez's expression grew more serious, though her tone remained warm. "No Luke, it's not unfortunately. I have a delicate mission, and I believe you are best suited for the job."
Harris's curiosity was piqued, his posture straightening instinctively. "A mission?" he asked, his voice tinged with surprise. "What do you need? You know Command stuck me to a desk and left me to train cadets and file paperwork these days."
Ramirez nodded, her expression sympathetic. "Yes, I'm aware. But this mission requires someone with experience, a good head, and a high rank."
Harris couldn't help but lean in, intrigued. "Sounds intriguing," he said, his tone betraying his eagerness. "What's the mission?"
Ramirez proceeded to outline the events, her words painting a picture of first contact with an alien race, their ability to bypass security perimeters, and the urgent need for diplomatic contact. Harris listened attentively, his scepticism evident in the slight furrow of his brow, but he remained silent, allowing Ramirez to finish her briefing.
When she had finished, Harris summarized the situation with a hint of disbelief in his voice. "Aliens are real, and you want me to lead an escort mission so that ambassadors can make contact?"
Ramirez offered a wry smile. "In an oversimplified way, yes," she acknowledged.
The screen flickered momentarily, and Harris's brow furrowed. We must be nearing Ganymede's orbit, he thought, the large moon's magnetic field often causing disruptions in the Quantum Tunnelling Relay signals they were using for their faster-than-light communication.
Pushing aside the technical considerations, Harris responded with a professional nod. "I'll do it."
Despite the strange parameters and conditions that led to this opportunity, he was inwardly elated at the prospect of flying a mission again after being grounded for so long,
"Excellent, Luke. You have--" Ramirez glanced off-screen briefly, her hand gesturing to someone out of view, clearly receiving information from an aide. "In 90 minutes, get to the flight deck. You and a team of two squads will be officially prepped with the mission briefing. Good luck, Luke." With a warm smile, Ramirez logged off, and the screen went blank, leaving Harris staring at his dim reflection, a small grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. A mission once again. Heh.
The weight of the situation settled over him, the gravity of leading an escort mission for first contact with an alien race. Yet, beneath the surface, a sense of excitement and anticipation bubbled within him, a familiar thrill that he hadn't felt in far too long. Despite the unusual circumstances, Harris felt a renewed sense of purpose, a chance to prove himself once again in the field.
As he rose from his desk, his mind already whirring with tactical considerations and potential strategies. With a deep breath, he straightened his uniform and made his way towards the flight deck, ready to embark on a mission that would test his mettle and potentially change the course of human history forever.
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Footsteps echoed through the steel corridors in a quickened cadence as Captain John Harris strode forward, his gait betraying a hint of eagerness. The massive SS Astraion transport hummed around him, bustling with frenetic energy contained within its hull. Though voices chattered and machinery whirred, Harris tuned it all out, his mind focused singularly on the mission ahead.
Each stride reverberated with purpose, the rhythmic thumps a metronome marking his years of dedicated service. He navigated the labyrinthine passages like a patriot returning home, nodding curtly at passing crewmates. The Astraion's patrol was ending, the men already buzzing with talk of Luna's imminent shore leave.
But it was the sudden summons, General Ramirez's voice edged with urgency, that had Harris's pulse quickening. Her words unlocked a simmering current of anticipation he struggled to contain. After months of deskbound duty, he was being deployed once more.
The flight deck thrummed with an electricity all its own. Raised voices and clattering tools formed a symphony Harris knew by heart as the deck crews danced among the lethal silhouettes of the F-23 Interceptors. With practiced efficiency, they prepared the fearsome fighters for launch.
Harris drank in the sight of the Sentinels, his favored wings. Sleek and predatory, their frames cast in stark relief by the fluorescent glare. With each glimpse of their sculpted forms, pride swelled in his chest - these marvels were his progeny, the ones he had ushered from prototype to front line. Their presence filled him with a sense of reassurance...and unmistakable exhilaration. After too long grounded, he would fly his wings again.
As Harris entered the briefing room, the air seemed to thicken with tension, a palpable weight pressing down on the assembled pilots. He scarcely had time to greet his new squadmates before the holographic display flickered to life, General Ramirez's stern visage dominating the screen.
"Attention, pilots!" Her voice boomed, an authoritative cadence that brought the room to an abrupt silence. All eyes snapped towards the display as she fixed them with an intense stare. "As of this moment, humanity is no longer alone in the universe. We have received a message from extraterrestrial beings..." She paused, letting the weight of her words sink in. "And they wish to make contact."
A chorus of muffled gasps and murmurs rippled through the room. Harris studied the faces of his new squadmates - a kaleidoscope of disbelief, wonder, and trepidation etched across their expressions. He recognized the turbulent emotions flickering behind their eyes; he had grappled with them himself upon receiving the same staggering news.
General Ramirez pressed on, her tone brooking no argument. "Captain Harris here will lead this joint squadron on a critical escort mission." Surprised glances turned his way as two dozen sets of eyes found him hovering at the rear of the room. He met their questioning looks with a stoic nod of acknowledgment.
"You are to escort a ship carrying our diplomatic envoy and ensure their safe passage to rendezvous with these...aliens." Ramirez's words hung in the air like a lead weight as the pilots exchanged furtive glances. "And then provide protection during this...meeting at the closest Jovian colony."
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Harris could practically taste the tension, the undisguised incredulity washing over the assembled pilots. Escorting diplomats was a routine mission, but this... This changed the entire operational paradigm. He was an unknown quantity to them, yet their mission hinged on his leadership into the unfathomable depths of first contact.
"I know this is a monumental ask," Ramirez continued, her tone taking on a sincere edge. "But we cannot afford to underestimate the stakes. This is first contact with an unknown... alien threat." She let the weighted phrase hang in the air for a moment. "We must proceed with the utmost caution, and you - Captain Harris and your squadrons - have been hand-picked for this mission based on your skill and expertise."
A young lieutenant whose nametag read 'Danson' couldn't contain himself. "Aliens, General?" he blurted out, eyes widening in disbelief. "You're telling us we're going to actually encounter... beings from another world?"
Ramirez's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly as she gave a solemn nod. "Affirmative, Lieutenant. We've received a message from an unknown alien species." Her words seemed to send a ripple through the room as the gravity of the situation sank in. "They've demanded a meeting with representatives of the Sol Federation. It is our charge to escort the diplomatic team and ensure their safety during this encounter."
Harris studied the expressions of the pilots arrayed before him - a nuanced kaleidoscope of amazement, apprehension, and no small amount of incredulity. He recognized the warring emotions flickering across their faces; they perfectly mirrored the tumult he himself had grappled with upon first receiving these world-shattering orders.
Clearing his throat, Harris stepped forward, the room's attention swiveling towards him like a spotlight. "What kind of threat are we facing, General?" he asked, allowing a tinge of concern to edge into his voice. He knew putting a human face on the command structure could go a long way toward settling his new charges. "Do we have any intel on these...aliens? And what are our rules of engagement - should we anticipate hostilities?"
Ramirez's steely expression softened somewhat as she met Harris's gaze, a silent acknowledgment of his strategic gambit. "I wish I could offer you more concrete information, Captain. But the truth is, all we know is that this alien species has reached out... and it is our mission to receive them."
She paused, seemingly choosing her next words carefully. "Your primary objective is ensuring the safety and security of our diplomatic envoy. Use judicious force if necessary, but do everything in your power to avoid escalating the situation. We cannot afford missteps here."
A weighty silence hung over the briefing room as Harris gave a sober nod of understanding. He was acutely aware of the historic implications of their mission - the dawning realization that humanity was no longer alone in the universe. It was an existential prospect that filled him with a potent mixture of awe and trepidation. Yet his years of training and experience kicked in, steadying his nerves. He knew his duty. Protect the diplomats. Avoid provocations. The rest would sort itself out in due time.
Harris straightened, his expression etched with professional aplomb as he levelled his next query. "General, I understand the need for prudence," he began, choosing his words carefully. "But why must we physically escort the diplomats to the...aliens? Wouldn't establishing a secure communication relay be more efficient?"
His eyes roamed the squadrons arrayed before him. He could sense the unvoiced questions, the doubts lingering behind their stoic masks. As their newly-appointed leader, he knew laying out a clear justification for the hazardous mission could go a long way toward solidifying their resolve.
Ramirez gave an acknowledging dip of her chin before responding, seeming to weigh her phrasing. "Captain, we are dealing with an entirely unknown variable here. An alien species whose culture, customs, and protocols are a mystery to us." Her tone took on a frank edge. "They issued explicit demands for a face-to-face meeting with our leadership council. Sending the Chairman himself would be an unacceptable risk."
The general's piercing stare seemed to bore into each pilot. "As for a communication relay... If this proves to be a species that places great value on personal interaction, such an overture could be seen as a grave insult." She allowed that sobering notion to hang in the air before continuing.
"Furthermore, we cannot dismiss the possibility of hostile actions. If you and your teams are engaged and stranded during the meeting...the consequences could be catastrophic."
A palpable tension descended over the briefing room as Ramirez's words sank in. Harris could sense the trepidation rippling through the ranks - the gravity of potential first contact giving even the most hardened pilots pause.
His gaze swept over the assembled squadrons, taking in the furrowed brows and tight jaws. Apprehension shone through, yes... but undergirded by a readiness, a sense of steely determination sharpened by years of training and discipline.
Squaring his shoulders, Harris gave Ramirez a crisp nod. "Understood, General. We'll proceed with utmost caution, prioritizing the safety of the diplomatic team above all else."
"See that you do, Captain." Ramirez's expression was an inscrutable mask as she turned her focus to the squadrons. "You have your orders. I expect each of you to execute this mission with the highest degree of skill and professionalism. The fate of our entire Federation may hinge on your actions out there." Her eyes bored into them with intense emphasis. "Dismissed. And may your journey be victorious."
As the transmission winked out, Harris came to rigid attention, offering a sharp salute which the pilots echoed in eerie synchronicity. "Thank you, General," he replied, struggling to keep his voice level against the torrent of thoughts whirling through his mind. "We will not fail in this endeavor."
As the transmission blinked out, silence hung in the briefing room for all of half a second before erupting into a crescendo of hushed exclamations and nervous laughter. Pilots exchanged wide-eyed looks of astonishment and disbelief.
"Did she actually just say aliens?" A young pilot's voice cut through the din, his tone a mixture of awe and incredulity. Heads swiveled in his direction, fellow squadron members mirroring his dumbfounded expression.
"Yeah, man... Aliens. As in, not from around here." Another voice piped up, tinged with a hint of giddy excitement. "Can you even believe that?"
The room seemed to hold its collective breath for a beat before the dam burst, a torrent of semi-crude jokes and wild speculation filling the air. It was a familiar defence mechanism - employing military humor to deflect from the monumental implications of what they'd just been told.
"Aliens? Mother. Fucking. Aliens!" The booming guffaw belonged to Sergeant Lang as he shook his head in seeming disbelief, a broad grin plastered across his craggy features. "I knew there had to be something else out there, but little green men with tentacles and flying saucers? Come on!"
Chuckles rippled through the squadrons as Corporal Baxter leaned back with a lopsided smirk. "Hey, for all we know they could be giant bug monsters looking to make us their next meal. Or maybe they're a race of sexy shape-shifting queens here to repopulate the galaxy!"
The ribald comments and raucous laughter seemed to gather momentum, each progressively more outlandish theory punctuated by riotous guffaws. Heads whipped back and forth as the banter ping-ponged around the room in a discordant chorus. Soldiers exchanged elbow nudges and sly grins, some even cupping hands around their mouths to offer lewd suggestions about "cultural exchanges" with the vaunted drill sergeant back on Luna Base.
Harris watched the antics with a faint grimace, sensing the rising tide of irreverence. He knew the juvenile posturing was simply their way of grappling with a reality that seemed utterly unfathomable mere minutes ago. But they were quickly veering into unprofessional territory.
With a sharp slice of his hand through the air, Harris brought the room to an abrupt silence, two dozen sets of eyes snapping towards him in unison. "Alright, that's enough chatter," he barked, his expression hardening into a mask of stern authority. "We have work to do, people."
The cavernous room held an almost reverent hush as Harris slowly paced before them, allowing the weight of the moment to resonate. "Make no mistake - the mission we've just been handed is utterly unprecedented. We're not simply escorting some diplomatic envoy on a milk run." His steely gaze seemed to bore into each of them. "We are the first faces these...aliens... will encounter. We represent the whole of humanity on this."
Harris paused, taking a measured breath as the gravity of his words hung overhead like a lodestone. "I know this is a scenario that no amount of training could ever prepare us for. But that is exactly why they chose us for this mission." His voice took on a fierce edge as he looked each pilot in the eye. "Because when the unknown rears its head, when the fantastic and unfathomable present themselves as obstacles...we adapt. We overcome. We complete the mission."
Squaring his shoulders, Harris's expression was utterly inscrutable, a mask of professionalism etched in granite. "I expect each and every one of you to be at your peak - minds and gear primed for the unprecedented. Because make no mistake, from this point forward, our actions will set the tone for all future interactions between humanity and...whatever other lifeforms may be out there."
His gaze lingered a beat longer, silently appraising the resolve burning behind the pilots' eyes beneath their veneer of steely composure. Satisfied, Harris gave a curt nod.
"We are the vanguard, the tip of the spear forging humanity's path into the great unknown. And we will represent the best of what our species has to offer - strength, honor, unshakable resolve." Harris' final proclamation seemed to reverberate through the briefing room. "Now go. Prepare yourselves in manner befitting the importance of our vital mission. We launch in one hour."
With that, Harris turned on his heel and strode from the room, the squadrons watching his departure with a palpable undercurrent of adrenaline thrumming through their veins. This was what they had trained for - to brave the unseen and the uncertain with courage and fortitude. And as they set about checking their gear with renewed fervor, each felt a swell of pride for being chosen as humanity's first emissaries to the stars.
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An hour ticked by in a flurry of activity before the all-clear signal finally crackled over the comms. Captain Harris exchanged terse nods with his readied squadrons as the minutes counted down. Admiral Chen's diplomatic envoy was making its way out from Mars' orbit, intent on rendezvousing beyond the frozen shadows of Jupiter's realm. From that distant staging point, the real mission would begin - escorting the dignitaries into the cosmic unknown to meet...them.
Harris' fingers danced across his control console, running through the pre-flight checks with practiced efficiency as his mind wrestled with the realities of their assignment. He could scarcely fathom the notion of sentient aliens existing beyond the inky vastness surrounding them. Yet the orders from on high had been utterly unambiguous.
"Alright, Sentinel Squadron..." Harris' voice crackled over the comm with steely authority. "This is it. We're approaching the ambassador's ship now, so log those pre-flight mnemonics one last time. I want to go over the mission beats."
He paused, allowing the low rumble of the fighter's idling engines to accentuate the gravity of the moment. When he spoke again, his words carried a measured cadence.
"We have an escort mission to run - Admiral Chen's delegation will be meeting us at the far side of Jovian space aboard a civilian merchant carrier." Harris could practically see the arched eyebrows and sidelong glances his words likely prompted. A cramped freighter masquerading as a diplomatic shuttle? It was an unorthodox choice, to be certain.
"Our job is to form a standard bridging escort around that carrier and provide overwatch all the way to the...rendez-vous point." Harris couldn't resist adding a dramatic pause before that last phrase. He knew the implications weren't lost on his squadrons - a face-to-face meeting with alien beings of unfathomable origin.
"Near the objective, the carrier will kill their drift while Sentinels One, Three and Five..." Another pause as Harris allowed callsigns to filter through his mind's eye - himself, Lang and Jax. "We'll keep our Alcubierre fields enabled to overrun the contact zone and take up a defensive posture around...them."
He could envision their grins and silent rejoinders - 'them' being whatever manner of cosmic beings they were about to encounter. Unknowns of literally astronomical proportions.
"Make no mistakes - our priority is ensuring the safety and security of that diplomatic team by whatever means prove necessary." Static crackled over the comm as Harris raised his voice with emphasis. "But we also cannot afford any escalations or hostile provocations that could jeopardize the mission altogether. This is unchartered territory, people. Humanity's first foray into...Christ, I don't even know what to call this."
A humorless chuckle slipped unbidden past his lips. Harris raked a hand through his cropped hair, feeling the weight of the entire galaxy pressing down upon his shoulders.
"Any questions? Speak now, because once we make the jump, there are no re-dos. We will be the vanguard...the very first faces they see of our species. So stay frosty, stay alert, and prepare yourselves."
His words hung in the ether for a beat before Harris switched his comm over to an open channel. "Merchant Carrier, this is Sentinel Lead. We are forming up in escort position now. My mark for drift transition in five...four..."
Beyond the panoramic canopy, the blackness of space seemed to shiver and undulate as the first tendrils of Alcubierre distortion took hold. Surrounding fighters flickered like mirages as their warping fields propagated one after another.
"...three...two...one. Mark!"
The Flight of the Sentinels has begun.
***Aboard the Kruth Ship. ***
Captain Varan stood on the bridge of the Kruth vessel, his posture rigid with anticipation as he monitored the ship's scanners. It had been hours since they sent their urgent message to the Sol Federation, requesting communication with their leaders, and yet there had been no response. The silence was deafening, weighing heavily on Varan's mind as he waited for any sign of acknowledgment from the humans.
For the last hour the deep-range scanners had been detecting the faint signatures of approaching vessels. Varan's heart clenched with apprehension as the blips on the scanner grew closer, their flight movements unmistakably insectoid in nature, indicating the presence of the dreaded insectoid scavenger. The insects had picked up their scent, and they were drawing near with ominous intent.
As the tension on the bridge mounted, Varan grappled with a harrowing decision. Galactic protocol dictated strict procedures for first contact with a new race, requiring diplomacy and peaceful engagement. However, the Kruth vessel was ill-equipped for combat, its primary purpose was scouting and facilitating communication, not engaging in warfare.
Abandoning their position and fleeing before warning the humans would be a breach of protocol, risking the lives of billions in the process. Yet, facing the insectoids without proper defenses would almost certainly lead to the destruction of the Kruth ship and its crew. Varan's mind raced with the weight of the dilemma, torn between duty to his own crew and the imperative to prevent needless bloodshed.
There was no guarantee as well that staying and getting consumed by the hoard would forewarn the humans.
With a heavy heart Captain Varan made a fateful decision.