Last Hope, they called it officially. But its inhabitants had a different name for it. Lost Hope, they called it and for a good reason. The vast orbital mining complex was in the middle of nowhere, and when one was talking about space, that was saying something. It was a relic from before the Liberation Wars, capable of producing enough raw ores to put to shame everything the United Republics could construct. Or at least it should have if it wasn’t operating at below ten percent capacity. But that wasn’t why Donovan Rex had taken the post of head of security. It was because the bloody thing was in the middle of nowhere at the fringe of both UR-controlled space and the galaxy as a whole. The nearest no-void transition point was four months away. Bloody four months spent in travel through real space. That placed Last Hope outside of any reasonable supply line, making it as strategically valuable as a damaged freighter engine.
As Chief of Security, Donovan loathed all the bureaucratic bullshit he had to deal with on a daily basis, but it was those same UR regulations which worked in his favour. Thirty years on an orbital mining facility qualified him for early retirement with a cushy pension just because some administrative drone on the core worlds had no idea how utterly dull life was on Last Hope. Hell, even the miners worked a single shift because nearly nothing functioned as it should on the damned station. The Third Terran Empire had automated the entire process making human presence unnecessary. Everything, from the cargo hauliers which transfer the mining complex’s produce to the sophisticated assembler units, was AI operated. And somehow, the United Republics had managed to fuck it all up when they took over the complex some two-hundred years ago. In all that time, Last Hope’s Overseers had barely managed to restart the main systems, drilling lasers and gravitational lifts, and continuous excavation into the crust of the large planet beneath the vast orbital complex commenced in earnest. Security Chief Rex wished to thank the incompetent bastards personally because instead of a dozen of specialised AI, Last Hope required thousands of miners, techs and support staff to operate, giving a reason for his position to exist.
UR propaganda could claim all it liked that the complex was operating at half-capacity. In reality, Donovan couldn’t start to refer to the amount of workforce present as a skeleton crew. Despite that, two or three dozen of the massive cargo hauliers docked each month to take mind-numbing quantities of iron, copper, bauxite, titanium and tons of scandium that were drilled from the dead world below and what was left of its moons and asteroid field. Thousands of metric tons were mined daily, and Donovan’s task was to ensure the inhabitants of Lost Hope didn’t suffer from sticky fingers syndrome. Actually, it was the task of Overseer Tharks, but the bloody bastard was too busy lining his pockets to care. This allowed Chief Rex and his subordinates to do the same, albeit far more modestly, and as long as the annual reports’ bottom line remained ‘as expected’ and no one else joined in, everyone was happy to turn a blind eye. That didn’t change Donovan’s conviction that, somehow, the day-to-day care and running of the complex had fallen on his overworked shoulders.
“I’m just saying; there’s a good couple of thousand of the damned things. Retrofit them, and you have a fleet to rival the Consortium or the Khanate.” Donovan rolled his eyes at Zoë’s latest grand idea.
“Second officer Kurtz. First of all, why are you not in uniform? This is an official investigation,” he said, resigned to hear her excuse this time and do nothing about it.
“What do you mean, Chief?” The eager girl flashed him a playful smile. “I’m in uniform.”
“I am talking about that moth-eaten piece of junk you have over your state-issued gear.” Donovan stopped and looked her square in the eyes.
“It’s my lucky jacket. Do you like it?” Zoë stopped and made a little spin so that he could have a good look at her.
Her polymer beige combat plate and tight-fit jumpsuit left little to the imagination, and he had to remind himself that she was his subordinate. Besides, Monic would roast his nuts over a forge fire if she so much as suspected him of thinking of cheating on her.
“I don’t recall it being a part of the standard gear,” Donovan gave up with a sigh, seeing her smile, and consulted the holo-map on his wrist. “Let’s get a move on. We have plenty of ground to cover.”
After a few moments spent ignoring the Second Officer’s cheerful smile, he added. “And second of all, that’s a really stupid idea.”
“Why?” Zoë looked at him like a wounded puppy.
“Those junk buckets are AI-operated cargo hauliers. It’s not worth the investment,” he sighed once more, regretting opening his mouth.
“What for?”
“Think about it, Second Officer. The bloody things are not sealed because the ore doesn’t need air or temperature control. It only needs to be secured in place. On top of that, they use Hitori-pattern engines, which require the vacuum of space to syphon the excess pressure from the reactor core, or they go critical and make a big boom. Do you get it now?” He turned away as soon as disappointment entered her bright eyes.
Unlike his dark grey and tired orbs, hers were light green and full of life. Give it a few months, and she will have the same dead stare as the other members of the security team. It was almost enough to put a smile on Donovan’s face. It wasn’t that he hated her; he simply found her enthusiasm annoying.
The poor thing had arrived a month ago with the last supply run. She had been a ball of excitement and energy from the moment her foot stepped on his station. Her skin was yet to lose its copper tan, but soon enough, it would have the same dirty grey hue as everyone else’s. The girl had the patented short haircut of a graduate, which spoke volumes to Donovan. The poor creature was fresh out of the Academy, and to have her first posting at Lost Hope meant she had managed to piss off more than one person back home.
Apparently, the brass had thought a single woman equalled an entire twenty-person unit and had labelled her “reinforcements”. Donovan had to correct himself. It was more than he had expected. He had only requested more staff to reduce the work schedule, nothing more. He had three thousand miners, seven hundred technicians and operators of the complex’s intricate machinery, and a hundred scientists and archaeologists to look after. And someone on the Council had thought that two hundred and fifty guards were enough to get the job done.
Well, in all honesty, they were enough if they worked extended twelve-hour shifts without a day off. Donovan had to admit that there was not much for them to do, anyway. Because there was nothing worth stealing or fighting over in this place, all his people had to do was to stop drunken fights or fights caused because the eggheads and miners had gotten into a debate. But, in most cases, those were self-regulated.
“Hey, Chief, what do you think Dr Werner and the other eggheads have found in the east wing?” Zoë broke the comfortable silence of their walk.
“It’s not for us to wonder such things. We only make sure they don’t break anything.” Donovan stopped again and gave her his best commanding gaze. “And don’t call them eggheads. They are archaeologists. Professors, doctors and whatnot, which means their asses alone are way smarter than you.”
“Ok. Sorry. Jeez.” The girl rolled her eyes in an exaggerated manner.
They walked a few hundred metres through decrepit corridors covered in mould, puddles of coolant leaking from the aged pipes, and air moisture lit by flood lamps brought over by the archaeological team. Donovan felt his ire rise as Zoë spoke again. The girl was not happy with simply walking and keeping her mouth shut.
“When you think about it, about two-thirds of the station is a complete unknown.”
“Get to the point, Kurtz,” he stopped himself from sighing before it became a habit, triggered by the girl opening her mouth.
“I’m just saying, Last Hope has a total spread area of over seventeen thousand square kilometres. And so far, we’ve explored a fraction of it. Most of which consists of loading hangars, production lines, foundries and smelting facilities,” she droned on, eager to test his patience.
“So? You’ve read the official file. Big deal.”
“I’m getting there, jeez!” Zoë threw her arms out to encompass the walls. “Most of the corridors are caved in. Entire sections are opened or breached, and the two largest hangars are completely unreachable unless you fancy a good old space walk.” She paused to take a big breath and prepare for the finale of her theory.
“This entire complex was created by the Third Empire over six hundred years ago, and despite its decrepit state, it is functional. So why did the UR think it a good idea to send just a handful of eggheads… Pardon, archaeologists, I mean, there is so much to learn here…”
“Are you for real?!” Donovan exclaimed in utter bewilderment. “Second Officer Zoë Kurtz, you are just a grunt. You only need to follow orders and stick to the security manual.”
He stopped and pushed her against the wall. With one swift movement, Donovan disabled her comm feed and his own.
“Since thinking is a big problem for you, I’ll spell it out for you,” he barked at her. “Words like those you just said will land you in Neverok’s office for interrogation as Imperial sympathiser. The Empire was the worst enemy and an oppressor of free will, do you understand?”
The girl nodded, her face turning pale, and fear began to creep into her eyes. She wasn’t that dumb after all, Donovan thought. As long as she knew not to cross paths with the Council’s enforcer, she would be fine.
“As to the why of your question,” he let go of her and adjusted his chest plates before continuing. “It’s money. The UR doesn’t have the credits to spare, not while the arms race with both the Khanate and Jubal Consortium continues.”
He turned on his comm feedback, and the implant in his inner ear burst into life.
“Chief, do you copy?” Donovan heard Felix’s bored baritone.
“Yeh. I copy.”
“We lost your signal for a moment there, Chief.” The communication officer responded with his usual phlegmatic tone.
“I noticed. Could have been a system glitch. However, I’ll mark the area for your techs to come and have a look at it, just in case.”
“Fine by me.” Donovan could sense that Felix wished to tell him something he didn’t want to hear but was struggling to find the correct words. He could feel it in his gut.
“Out with it, King. What’s happened and when?”
“You know how we were wondering how the geometry of sections 01 and 02 of the station didn’t make sense? Well, Dr Werner’s team has found an unmarked section link. Actually, it’s Potter’s mining team that did the finding since they’re doing the heavy lifting for the archaeologists-”
“I don’t have all day, King. I’m heading to 03-11 for the Archibald incident with Officer Kurtz as part of her mandatory training.”
“Right, right. Long story short, the diggers have been drinking and wanted to have some fun with one of the female assistants. A scuffle happened, and some equipment got broken by one of our guys. Dr Werner’s screaming for someone of authority to actually deal with it this time, or she’d call the Commodore.”
The Chief rubbed his forehead, knowing that he would have to spend hours writing a report that no one was going to read. At least he would be dealing with some damaged equipment, not assault and rape charges, which meant he could dump the entire issue on the lap of one of his other Second Officers. He pulled the shift schedule on the cornea implant in his right eye to see whom the lucky bastard was going to be. Seeing a name that was already on his disliked list and one that should be there, to begin with, Donavan rewarded himself with a faint smile.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“Have Bishop smack sense into the heads of Potter and his men before he barks at the good professor for an hour. Inform Dr Werner that Overseer Tharks will cover all material damages.”
“Uhm… Chief.” The specialist sounded like a frightened mouse over the feed, which was impressive considering the man’s deep voice. That was never a good sign. “Second Officer Moe Bishop informed me of this in person about a minute ago.”
“Repeat that, Control.” Donovan couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“Yeh… Bishop and his team called it a day about half an hour before the initial incident, leaving Lemental and Hunter to look after the excavation site. The status updates weren’t uploaded until Moe returned to HQ.”
Rex grabbed Zoë’s wrist and snapped at her with barely restrained anger. “Section 01-19! You’re in charge of Team 3! Break some heads if you have to, but I want this settled yesterday!”
“King! You keep Moe there until I arrive. If a word of this reaches Neverok or any of his staff, I’ll be mounting heads on spikes, starting with yours!” He practically screamed at the comms operator while moving with his haste.
“Understood, Chief. Control out.” With that, the connection with the command centre was placed on standby.
“Excuse me, Chief, but regulations state that I still have to undergo another sixty hours of training before I can be assigned solo-” As soon as Zoë’s voice reached his ears, Donovan realised that she was following him instead of sprinting to the nearest junction. Pivoting on his heels, he barked at her in a tone that would make the Academy instructors proud.
“Second Officer Kurtz, you’re no longer a cadet. Now, my foot is going into someone’s ass, and I can see a line forming. Unless you want to jump to the front of it, I suggest you get moving! On the double!”
The entire Security force on Lost Hope was a joke, staffed by people who couldn’t be referred to as scraping the bottom of the barrel. They were only a step above common thugs and gangers, which suited Donovan just fine. But this level of disregard for their duties, and more importantly, his orders, was on a different level. For the first time since she arrived, he was happy to have Kurtz assigned to his command staff. She was young and untainted by this place, which meant she would do everything by the books, and by the time anyone even thought about investigating the case, he would be senile and wasting away in a lovely tropical nursing home. Chief Rex wondered for a moment if his day could get any worse as he watched the eager girl sprint ahead of him.
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Zoë sent an order to her implants to cycle down before rounding the corner. She used the last few meters leading to the entrance to section 01-19 to catch her breath and wipe the sweat from her face. Sprinting for thirty minutes straight wasn’t an easy task and normally would require the aid of military implants. Thankfully, the enforcer grade ones she received back at the Academy proved sufficient. Zoë knew she hadn’t been the best student and graduated from the Officer Programme at the bottom of her class by some miracle. However, there was one thing she excelled at – physical conditioning, so much so her instructors had her attend the men’s training sessions. That made her confident, that should it come to it, she could stand her ground against the pair of guards waiting patiently for her to reach them.
“Report.” Zoë squeaked like some child’s toy, all her confidence evaporating instantly as soon as she stopped before the two broad-shouldered men.
“Yo, Zo-zo. No longer holding the Chief’s skirt, are we?” Hunter greeted her with a smug smile, reminding the young woman that no one from Security took her seriously.
James Hunter was one of the worst ones when it came to making fun of her. Former ganger turned law enforcer; he was as crude and obnoxious as the hideous neon pink tattoo of a pierced orb under his left eye. How or why a man such as him had been allowed into the Academy was a mystery that Zoë could never hope to solve. Yet, somehow it felt proper that James had found himself on Last Hope for the last five years with forty more to go. By the time he could leave the mining complex, he would be well into his eighties and practically unemployable. Anyone with half a mind could put it together that this was a form of a suspended sentence of sorts.
“That’s Second Officer Kurtz, Hunter.” Zoë flashed him a cold smile, feeling awkward about barking at a man twice her age.
“Ignore him, kid,” Peter Lemental spoke up before James could say anything stupid. As a former professional soldier, he didn’t mock her openly, but the way he patronised her was a different kind of annoying. “I take it the Chief’s not happy?”
“No. Pretty pissed, actually.” She returned the nod the older man gave her. “Heads on spikes pissed.”
“Ah.” Both men grunted, adjusting the protective plates of their uniforms before releasing the palm-sized recorder drones attached to their belts.
Following their example, Zoë removed her lucky jacket and folded it nearly out of sight. Although their cerebral implants would make an audio and video recording of everything, regulations demanded a third-person recording of the entire scene. Making sure that they were ready, she sent her authorisation codes and faced the two men again.
“Case 61-14B11-LH-MC. Guard Second Class Lemental and Guard Third Class Hunter reporting. Second Officer Kurtz supervising.” She nodded for Peter to continue as the senior of the pair.
“Four mining personnel have been charged with intoxication during shift hours and assault against Scientific Department Assistant Nita, Jacy.” He pointed with his shock baton at the four men sitting against the wall to her left. “This resulted in a physical altercation between them and eight SD junior technicians, names attached in the corresponding case file.”
Zoë glanced at the men sitting against the opposite wall. They were pretty bruised but overall, no serious injuries. Considering they had thrown fists with heavily augmented miners, the techs could consider themselves lucky. Still, she scheduled a visit with Dr Saiko at medical. Although going to the defence of their friend was commendable, the eggheads should’ve left Security to deal with Potter and his men.
“Come on, Pete! Our shift ended like…” The miner’s outburst was cut short by the sound of a shock baton charging. So far, the official part was proceeding better than Zoë expected.
“Guard Hunter and I intervened,” Lemental continued, unperturbed. “During the... uhm… de-escalation procedure, Guard Hunter accidentally broke SD equipment-”
“Fuck off, Lemental! You saw Potter push me!”
“Damn it, James! Can’t you keep your trap shut for two minutes!” The ex-soldier snapped at the other guard.
Zoë slapped her hand over her face so that she wouldn’t scream at the idiot. They were so close to completing the simple task of recording the report. She had to think of a way to salvage this before Hunter said, which would end her career. Salvation came in the form of a ping informing her that the last two members of Team 3 had finally arrived.
“Report accepted. Charges are as follows. Mining personnel are charged with intoxication during shift hours, assault and inciting a physical altercation. Science Department personnel are charged with civil unrest and disobeying orders issued by Last Hope Security. SDA Nita faces no charges. Damages regarding damaged equipment will be discussed privately with Dr Werner, acting supervisor of archaeological site LH-MS-A3. Guards Camilo and Yori are to escort the detainees to the brig.”
She somehow managed to blurt the statement in a single breath without biting her tongue. The moment the last word escaped her mouth, the Second Officer sent a shutdown signal to the drones and pushed the recordings as a priority massive over the feed to HQ. Only then Zoë allowed herself to calm down. However, she had a bone to pick with Hunter.
“You almost ruined everything, idiot!” She yelled at the former ganger while putting on her lucky jacket.
“Call me an idiot one more time, girl. I dare you.” James stepped closer to her, squaring his shoulders in an attempt to intimidate her. It might have worked if she were a petite teenager, but at a hundred and eighty centimetres, she was almost the same height as him.
“Back off, Hunter.” Zoë tried to keep her voice level but knew that some of her worry must have shown, prompting the man to step even closer, his forehead pressing against hers.
“Or what?”
With a squeeze of her wrist, she powered on the impact knuckles integrated into her glove. She was confident she would have James sprawled on the ground in less than a second. The problem was what happened after that. Thankfully, she didn’t have to consider the theoretical consequences as Lemental came behind Hunter and grabbed him by the back of the neck, pulling him away.
“Let it go, mate. We’re still on duty, and the Chief’s on the warpath.”
“She called me an idiot… I’m not. My folks had me tested when I was a kid.”
“I know, man. Let’s wrap things up with the Doctor, and I’ll buy you a drink at Rust Town.”
Zoë followed the two men while they continued their back and forth. As far as first assignments went, it wasn’t something to brag about. At least her day couldn’t get any worse after this.
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Dr Virginia Werner passed around the table used as an on-site test lab to calm her nerves. She was angry, frustrated and outraged. This wasn’t the first time the uncultured brutes had done something like this, and it sure wasn’t going to be the last. So far, the miners had kept it to catcalling, crude jokes and groping, which, although unacceptable, was tolerable. Void Fever Syndrome was a real thing, despite what the planet-bound masses thought, and people needed to vent to remain sane. Thus some social norms and rules were curtailed or outright ignored. Virginia and her colleagues were well aware of this and had signed the appropriate waivers. This wasn’t her first time doing a long-term exploration of a void station. And sure, some of the junior techs fancied a romp with the burly unwashed miners, but it was always consensual. Thankfully the guards had stepped in on time just as a brawl had formed. However, Virginia didn’t appreciate the fact that they had allowed the situation to escalate in the first place, and breaking the only portable molecular metal analyser had her over the edge.
Because of the damned regulations, she had to waste time waiting for Chief Rex to arrive and sort out the incident in the usual summary and brutal fashion the local guards were so fond of. So, her team was forced to sit and do nothing for an hour and a half instead of clearing the debris. Not that it mattered anymore. Without the valuable piece of tech, the archaeological team wouldn’t be able to do half of their work. This would put her at least a year behind schedule until a new unit could be shipped from the Science Wing of the Academy.
On top of that, the delay would impact the other teams, and Virginia knew she would be blamed for that. If what Professor Kruger had managed to recover from the damaged data maps and info caches was correct, there was supposed to be a large storage or research area just three meters away from her.
“For two months, he sits on his ass, playing with the mainframe, and finally, there’s an actual breakthrough, and this happens.” She mumbled under her breath while pacing.
Again, she was unfair to the efforts and skill of the old man’s team. He might be a thorn in her side and an academic prude, but he was one of the best crypto-analysts she had ever worked with. Still, it was hard to give her former teacher credit after being stuck with nothing better to do than catalogue the odd modifications done to the inactive forge plants deeper into the complex. At least he was far better company than the guards and miners. Virginia had yet to decide if Security Chief Rex was a smart person or a complete idiot. Unlike the other grunts, he might not understand or didn’t care what she and Professor Kruger were trying to achieve, but he was polite enough to get out of their way and wave away the pointless regulations that would’ve shackled them. Something that couldn’t be said about the other sites Virginia had worked on before.
“Prime the laser.” She shouted at the technician manning the console next to the large tripod which supported the man-sized neodymium vaporisation cutter.
They had wasted enough time doing nothing, and being idle was an anathema to her. A few taps and the two mobile generators roared to life, feeding the machine the power it needed for clearing the last of the collapsed wall, door and who knew what else. Cutting through the three meters of debris would take just a handful of minutes. Or a little longer if her theory of why they had seen signs of flash fusion was correct. But that’s why they had pressure breakers and an emergency sealing capsule on standby. Virginia could not hide her prideful smile, knowing that this efficiency was only because of her planning and preparation.
“Dr Werner, they are here.” One of the junior techs came from the junction leading to the collapsed section.
“Finally! It’s about time.” She placed a pair of delicate data glasses over her eyes.
They were not as efficient as the ocular implants used by most of the junior researchers, but she had relied on them for the last twenty years in the field. Not that anyone who saw her would guess she was nearing forty-six. Her body was as fit as it was when she had been twenty, and there was not a single wrinkle on her ebony skin. It was all thanks to the genetic treatments her post had given her access to. Thanks to them, she had managed to stop the clock of her biological age for at least a couple more decades. As Virginia crossed the junction to the antechamber attached to this section, she made sure her marble white hair was still kept in the perfect ponytail she had arranged in the morning. Once she rounded the corner, she saw the grunts. She had expected Donovan Rex would be leading them. Instead, it was that foolish girl with strange and stupid theories. Virginia couldn’t be bothered to remember her name but understood that the woman was just under the Chief of Security in rank.
“Where are my techs? Why haven’t they been released yet?” Virginia demanded before the girl could open her mouth.
“They’ll have to spend a couple of days in the brig-” The girl began before she cut her off.
“Why? They didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Doc, you have to-”
“That’s Doctor Werner to you,” Virginia corrected, feeling her irritation grow with each passing second.
“Fine,” the guard’s shoulders dropped, and she stopped scratching the back of her head. “It’s so that we can keep the peace on the station. If we let your people go without so much as a slap on the wrists, you folks will have to have a security detail following you day and night. And frankly, there aren’t enough guards on this station. So, yes, they’ll be spending a couple of nights in the brig. Only question is if you’d be joining them, Doctor Werner?”
“This… This is outrageous!” Virginia stuttered for a moment.
Never in her life had a lowly grunt dared to threaten her in such a manner. The woman folded her arms over her chest and looked at her meaningfully. The message was clear, Virginia’s arrest depended on what she said next. However, the point was made mute as warning lights flared up in the adjacent rooms and corridors. Following that was the chilling sound of magnetic locks being released. It was the first time in Dr Werner’s life that she had seen Security staff being authorised to use lethal weapons as the trio of guards pulled out their Gauss pistols.
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