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Halastar was shouting, “Get Gamma Station on the comm!”
The bridge crew snapped out of their fugue state.
A young bridge officer gingerly stepped over the pool of blood, and the motionless body of Ensign Jerrick. He typed at his keyboard, and pointed to Halastar.
A flickering hololithic image appeared above the central control plinth. Kobayashi spoke without delay.
“We’ve got seventeen on scope, vectoring in from out-system. We estimate they’ll intercept us in two hours.”
Justinius stepped up so that he was nose to nose with the holographic man. “Turn and run, any ships you’re in the process of unloading go with you. Same for the vessels too damaged to fight.”
“That leaves you with around thirty vessels.” He looked down to consult data off screen, “Most of those are still partially damaged.”
“Can you lend me your destroyer wing?” Justinius queried.
Kobayashi smiled, “They’re already on their way out to you.”
Justinius smiled internally.
“We’ll buy you enough time to get to FTL and out of here.” Justinius turned to close the communication link, but Kobayashi coughed politely.
“Is it your intention to destroy the Committee fleet?” He queried, “If we’re engaging here we’ll need to notify Terra on arrival. They’ll need to be ready for any retaliation.”
Justinius paused. Kobayashi was level-headed and analytical as always.
“Tell them to be ready. I’ll try and sort this out without bloodshed, but we have to assume the worst.”
Kobayashi nodded, “Good Luck Justinius.”
The hololithic projector faded. Halastar was speaking into his comm link, giving orders to the fleet. He signed off with a curt goodbye and turned to face the warrior.
“I’ve got most of the fleet held back in a picket formation to protect Gamma station. I’ve got ten vessels staying with us for…for whatever it is we’re about to try.”
Justinius nodded grimly. He couldn’t figure out exactly what the Committee was up to. Seventeen ships was hardly enough to decisively win this engagement. Had they come hoping to catch Gamma station before they arrived, or was there something more subtle at play?
“Do we have sensor readings on the ships?, Justinius asked, “Hull identification and classifications?”
Halastar turned to his sensor's ensign, “Sensors, I need full spec hull analysis on the enemy fleet, main screen.”
The data flickered to life on the main display. Ship classes, tonnage and vessel data scrolled across the screen as the Fury’s long range sensors resolved as much detail as possible. Seventeen ships it might be, but this was no small fleet. No ships below cruiser class, and several large and foreboding battleships. By displacement, the committee fleet outclassed their ten-ship fleet by nearly a factor of two.
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Justinius thought he saw something there he recognized. His blood ran cold.
It couldn’t be that.
“Stop,” he ordered, “Bring up enemy vessel three, full detail.”
The data shifted and resolved. Enemy Vessel three, battleship class.
“Do we have any visuals on the vessel?” Justinius queried.
The ensign tapped at his console and a blurry image came up on the main display. The vessel was long, elegant and battle-scarred. Something was stenciled in alien script on the prow.
Halastar looked up at the image. “What’s so special about this one?”
Justinius squinted his eyes, “Can we clean up this image at all?”
The ensign called out, “Retasking visual feeds, you should be getting better resolution now.”
The image shifted and moved as new data came in, refining the image. Justinius felt his heart sink.
“The Ubiquitous Justice.” he groaned.
Halastar looked at him sharply, “Your last posting? Before the Fury?”
Justiniius nodded. “I was with them for eighteen months. Admirals G’nax, Davrin, and Al Enui were sharing command at that time. They were good men. I didn’t think I’d ever meet them again like this.”
The shipmaster was in deep thought, “This could be good. We might be able to talk our way out of our situation.”
Justinius pondered this.
“They’re all seasoned veterans, and none of them are fools. If they’ve come here to ensure their secret is kept, I doubt there’s anything that will change their mind. Still, it's worth a try.”
Halastar looked at his comms officer, “Comms, hail enemy vessel three please. Tight-beam only. Put it up on the main screen.”
The officer tapped away at his blood-slick console station. He was slow and unfamiliar with the layout, but after a few moments he called out, and the hololith flickered into life again.
G’Nax flickered into being on the central display.
“Justnius?” The Huronite said, astonished, “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
The Huronite was exactly as Justinius remembered. His imperious, regal deportment was broken only by his surprise at seeing the Terran. He wore a long red cloak, fastened at one shoulder, over a gold and silver brocaded uniform. His slit-nose flared in surprise at Justinius’ appearance, and his all-black eyes widened.
“Good to see you again G’Nax, despite the circumstances.” Justinius replied, “Sorry for being forward, but are you in command of your fleet?”
The Huronite nodded, wariness replacing the shock on his face. “I am. You?”
“Just the same.”, Justinius answered, “I was wondering if we could talk, face to face. To discuss this problem we seem to share?”
The Huronite seemed uneasy. He consulted something off-screen, then nodded.
“I’m sending you coordinates. The Ubiquitous Justice will wait for you there. Send out a transport and we’ll allow you aboard so we can speak. Leave your fleet out of engagement range.”
The transmission cut-off abruptly.
Nice to see you too, Justinius thought.
Halastar looked quizzically at the warrior.
“You’re not seriously going to take him up on that?” The shipmaster queried, “It’s clearly a trap.”
Justnius shrugged. “How long before Gamma station can make FTL?”
Halastar consulted a data-pad. “It’ll be hours, probably close to six.”
“Then we have to delay. If we go in nice and slow, and I have a nice relaxed chat with G’Nax, maybe it can get to FTL before the first shot is fired.”
Halastar looked unconvinced. “Maybe? Maybe they shoot your gunship out of the void. Maybe they take you prisoner the second you step aboard.”
Again, Justinius shrugged. “Is there a better alternative?”
Halastar hesitated, then turned to his bridge officers. “Nav, take us in to the provided coordinates. Half-thrust. Prepare a transport for the Rear Admiral, volunteer pilots only.”
Lastly, he turned to Justinius.
“I hope you know what you’re doing.”