---Esme’s perspective---
---Thursday, 10th of July, 2684 Terran Calendar---
---Deep Space---
We’re going to die…
8 months of training to be a Soldier, 10 to be an Officer, only to be blasted out of the sky before my feet ever touch the soil of a planet other than Earth or the deck of an enemy ship!
I’m… never going to see Victor again…
“Jesus Christ!… That’s an O’oan capital ship!!!” exclaims Burrows, clearly talking about the, ungodly massive, eldritch abomination at the centre of the fleet blockading the spacelane.
That thing looks like the stuff of nightmares!
It looks like the incarnation of that feeling you get when swimming in water you don’t know the depth of!
If I’m ever able to do that again, that ship is what my thalassophobia is going to make me picture looming from the depths!
“Do we have any chance in a straight naval engagement, Sir?” Burrows asks the Shipmaster.
The man, who clearly still hasn’t recovered from being interrupted by an enemy attack while he was about to ask Burrows on a date, just stammers “W-w-we might… if we had the rest of the Fleet with us… As it stands, we only have a few dozen ships here!… The Fleet were meant to rendezvous a few days outside of the system… They won’t arrive until too late to matter!”
“Can we flee?” asks Burrows, seeming significantly more on top of the situation than the Shipmaster.
He shakes his head “N-no good… Our exit momentum will have carried us well inside the interdiction field… it would take us hours to escape it!”
“So… we can’t run… and we’ll die if we fight…?” says Burrows, his face making clear that he’s furiously trying to calculate what that leaves.
“Maybe we could pull a Zhuge Liang and scare them off(!)” I quip (mostly to myself) under my breath.
Burrows whips his head to me, his mouth open, his brow furrowed, his eyes wide.
Was the joke that bad!?
I didn’t take Burrows for a man who’d let himself get distracted by a bit of gallows humour!
“Reid… that’s brilliant!!!” he cries out, seeming to have forgotten the ceremony he officiated and the simultaneous name change I underwent.
Is he… is he making fun of me?
He whips his head to the Shipmaster “Sir, I have an idea!… Actually, my subordinate had the idea… what I have is a plan!”
“Err… really?” says the Shipmaster to Burrows with a demeanour that suggests he thinks his obvious crush might be experiencing some sort of delirium to believe there’s any hope in this situation.
“Yes!” says Burrows with all the confidence in the world “But I’m going to need to know two things! First: Can you act and, if not, second: Where do you keep the Earl Grey?”
---Oai’uen’s perspective---
“[Admiral], the Terrans are adopting a peculiar formation…” says the attractive, young male [Navigator], emitting some airbubbles in his agitation as he does.
“On my console.” I command.
The real time, 3D representation of the sensor data is projected in front of me.
“You’re right, Au’au! What… are… they… doing…?” I scrutinise.
There’s a massive gap in their formation!
The ships that look like troop transports are hanging around as if they think they’re covered by much more threatening escorts than they actually are!
These are some [minnows]!… Why is the way they’re moving making me so uneasy!
It’s as if they want us to wipe them out(!)
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Shouldn’t they be attempting a futile escape or, alternatively, taking a much tighter and more defensive battle arrangement!?
I should just give the order to engage…
Unless…
With floating horror, I realise why I’m having such misgivings…
“GET me a long range scan, Au’au!” I snap.
Startled, it takes him a moment to begin working.
An agonising [minute] goes by before “Nothing, Ma’am… there’s nothing around us but the other convoy pockets we already knew about…”
“GET me ANOTHER one!!! Scan for all known methods of stealth and cloaking!!!”
Two more agonising [minutes] pass.
“Readings indicate a 91.7% confidence that no known methods are concealing anything of any meaningful size within [50ly], Ma’am.” reports Au’au, nervously undulating his tentacles.
I consider that… 91.7% is actually slightly better than the scan is usually able to get… Still though, that 8.3% uncertainty worries me when I look at the otherwise nonsensical arrangement of their ships!
“Coms… hail the Terrans!”
“Yes, Ma’am!” responds my [Coms Officer], immediately “Hailing now, Ma’am!”
The call takes [17 seconds] to be answered…
I wince as the monstrous creature appears on screen.
Male, I believe, from the broadness of his shoulders, shortness of his cephalic integument and lack of significant chest protrusion.
He sits, reclined against his seatback, seeming entirely unperturbed.
He bares his mouth bones at me in a way that makes it almost impossible to believe the computer filtered translation of the gesture as warmth and friendliness!
“Hello there… Lieutenant-Captain Nathan ‘Wellington’ Burrows, at your service!… What may I do for you?”
“Why have you taken that formation!?” I demand, not in the mood for flippant pleasantries.
The flesh above the creature’s blue eyes creases “You… cannot seriously expect me to-Oh! Is that my tea…?”
The deathworlder looks to his right, his mouth curling upwards as an arm comes down holding a small, squat, porcelain container with a crescent handle and containing a substance hot enough to emit visible vapour into their gaseous environment!
I stare, agog, as the man, nonchalantly, continues to not look at me, conversing instead with the out of frame Terran with the scarlet hair who brought him the beverage.
“No saucers, were there?” he asks, sounding mildly disappointed by the lack of whatever [saucers] are “I suppose I shall make do without…”
I [clear my throat] to regain his lapsed attention.
He snaps back to me as if mildly surprised I’m still here!
“Oh, Ms…?”
“[Admiral] Oai’uen!” I say, incredulous at the disrespect!
“MY apologies!… As I was saying; you can’t possibly expect me to divulge strategically valuable data to an opposing Naval force… can you?” he asks with what the translation flags as a bemused, mirthful expression.
He picks up the vessel by it’s handle and, with the digit V of that hand extended, takes a loud slurp of the scalding fluid.
My chromatophores pulse with disgust at the noise!
“Aaaah… just the way I like it, thank you Taylor…” he beams offscreen.
“You have a [dreadnought] incoming!” I accuse, finally managing to catch the distrait Terran’s attention.
Looking at me with a pretence of confusion, he asks “…A dreadnought, you say? What on Earth makes you think that?… You surely would have detected it on your long range scanners if we did!”
His denial only makes me more certain!
“This is a trap! You are using this meagre force as bait while a [dreadnought], using hitherto unknown cloaking technology, lurks just outside of visual range waiting for us to commit ourselves!… Your movements make no sense otherwise!”
“Oh…” vocalises the man with disappointment I don’t need the translator to flag “…I promise we’re all alone here…”
I’m not falling for that “End transmission!”
The call is instantly cut.
“Disengage interdiction! We are retreating!” I order.
“But, Ma’am…” objects my son and bodyguard, Uu’eo “…if it’s just one ship they’re waiting for…?!”
“Have you ever FOUGHT a [dreadnought], whelp!?!?!?” I [snarl] at my clueless offspring.
Ashamed, he curls a negation.
“Of course you haven’t!… Their name means ‘That Which Fears Nothing’… and it’s almost true!… Did you see that Terran's rock solid confidence while he casually sipped his [tea]… That was the face of a deathworlder who fears nothing because he has one at his back!… He’s not even aboard!!!… I would consider it a vainglorious suicide mission to engage one with five times the firepower we currently have at our disposal! We. are. RETREATING!”
---Nathan’s perspective---
My hands tremble numbly, from the adrenaline comedown, as cheers erupt at the sight of the opposing force dematerialising from this location.
I gasp to regain the breaths I no longer need to control!
“That was incredible, Lieutenant-Captain!” exclaims the Scottish Taylor, who’s idea this was, smiling for the first time I’ve seen since she last held her son “You fucking scared them off with a smile and a cup of tea! How!?!?!?”
“Well…*huff*…” I say, lightheadedly “…I am a thespian by training(!)…*huff*… Though…*huff*… playing the lead…*huff*… in Exeter University’s…*huff*… production of Hamlet…*huff*… a decade ago…*huff*… wasn’t, exactly…*huff*… the level of grounding…*huff*… I would have…*huff*… liked(!)”
She giggles at that.
“We’ll have to stay here for a few days while the Fleet regroups… If this lane might have another blockade, we don’t want to be strung out like we are!” announces the Shipmaster, his face covered in a… not unattractive amount of sweat.
Deciding to ride the moment and take the risk, I propose “Perhaps… at some point… while we wait… you and I might… go and see a film together… in the onboard cinema… Henry? ”
He smiles “I think I would like that… Nathan.”