To wallk the Line Between, part Two
Posted: 2004-03-13 08:23am
A single light fitting in one of the top corners dimly illuminated the room, showing off the subtly mismatching brown and black panels. There were actually two fittings one of which no longer worked. Dev picked up the monitor and fixed it to the bracket in front of the chair. A slide-away bed/drawer provided a sleeping area, making the room serve dual purposes as Dev’s quarters and monitoring station. There was little space for anything other then Dev’s monitoring equipment and the bed.
He patched into the ship’s systems and began tapped at the keyboard, scrolling through various segments of information. Dev reached out and touched a small red control to his right. “Hey...Eric.” Dev paused. “You know this thing’s 42 years old?”
“I know Dev, I was kind of working too a budget.” Eric responded from the pilot’s chair through the ship’s intercom.
With the bulk of the ship taken up by the engines and cargo hold the interior throughout was a cramped mess of brown interior plating and pipe systems. Eric was sitting in the pilot’s seat, the afternoon sunlight shined through the narrow windows over the instrument panel. He flicked a switch causing some of the gauges to light up. He flicked it again and powered back down. “Seems to be working.” He uttered.
Some hundreds of miles to the south lay the decision makers of the North West. Washington, currently one of the world’s most influential places for it acted as not just a Capital for the current incarnation of the United States but also for the entire North Western bloc. Needless to say the entire area had seen a great deal of development over the years.
With winter soon approaching there was a cool chill in the air.
A suited man pushed the door and entered a sizeable office overlooking the river.
“Ah, Mr. Royce. Thank you for coming, please sit.” The man behind the desk stood up and motioned towards the chair next to where another man and a woman were quietly sitting. The plaque on the man’s desk read ‘Martin Beech, Director of Colonial Security.’
“Mr. Royce I’d like to introduce you to Mr. Lionel Hayes; our representative from Stelcorp and Miss Janet Verhaart; political advisor.” He faced the pair, “This is Vincent Royce; our military director.
The pair exchanges handshakes and greetings with Royce before sitting back in their chairs. “Before we begin,” Royce said to Beech, “I would like Stelcorp’s interest in this matter clarified. I was under the impression that this was a NWB matter.”
“That’s precisely what I’m here to explain.” Mr. Hayes spoke to Royce. “I will be happy to answer any questions you may have.”
“We’ll get to Stelcorp in just a moment.” Beech sat back down in his chair. “As you’re all aware we’ve been having some trouble with our colonies in Corsica Nova. So far there hasn’t been anything apart from work outages and the occasional problem between our security forces and the local population. Now as you are also no doubt aware we are not the only bloc with colonies in Corsica Nova so you can be sure the other Blocs are no doubt watching this situation closely. From what our intelligence has gathered the European colonies are also experiencing some problems.”
“We’ve heard from a reliable source that there has been talk of dissent in both the European colonies and our own.”
“I’ve read the report,” Royce said, “there’s been some dissatisfaction but I haven’t seen anything to suggest that there’s any risk to the security of this bloc.”
Beech turned pressed a button and fired up the presentation screen in his office. On it a picture from one of the Corsica Nova colonies was displayed.
“This is from a bar in the Corsica Nova system, a colony on one of Corsica Prime’s moons. The man on the left is Elijah Milton, the former colonial magistrate, he resigned last year for personal reasons and has been working for a private security firm ever since. The man on the right is Antoine Rousseau, a French colonial official that works for the colonial authority on Corsica Prime. Unfortunately our man couldn’t intercept their conversation but there’s only a very select few possible reasons for these people to meet. What’s more is that Milton arrived and left on an unregistered transport. If what we believe is going on is in fact going on this could be disastrous for the NWB.” Beech sat back and allowed the others in the room to think over what he just told them.
“I agree,” Miss Verhaart spoke, “any civil unrest in the outer colonies could provoke a public backlash against the current administration, especially if another bloc is involved. The president’s approval ratings have declined nearly ten percent. The public simply doesn’t trust him. If those colonies decided to succeed from the bloc then there’s no telling how many others will follow their example. I’m sure Mr Hayes here is well aware of the economic consequences should this happen.”
“That’s exactly right.” Hayes chimed in. “Stelcorp has made a significant investment in production and extraction in Corsica Nova. Any instability in that region would make for some significant complications of which we are not currently prepared to accept.”
“So what does that have to do with the administration?” Royce asked.
“We are prepared to offer a substantial contribution to the administration’s campaign efforts in order to see this matter resolved.” Hayes sat perfectly still and spoke in a steady tone with no sign of hesitation.
There was a moment’s silence.
Slowly Beech turned his stare directly at Royce. “What I’m proposing is that we move military assets into the Corsica Nova system.”
“How many?” Royce asked with stern expression.
Beech responded without moving a muscle, “How many would it take to secure Corsica Nova should there be an uprising?”
Royce thought for a moment. “It is only a colony but it is a reasonably sized colony. If the local security forces were over run then I would have to assume that they have access to everything in the garrison. Then if the European colonies join in then I’d also have to assume that we’d encounter their assets there as well. I wouldn’t feel comfortable sending any less then at least sixty of our heavier assets, light cruisers and up, also at least a hundred and fifty of our destroyers and frigates.”
“So, around two hundred and ten ships plus strike craft?” Beech asked to clarify.
“At a rough guess. I’d have to consult the Admirals and have their defensive capabilities properly analyzed before making any final decision.” Royce glanced at the others in the room, he wondered if they’d considered the resulting effects of the NWB being able to oust any united from these European and North Western colonies put up. As long as the NWB arrived there first they’d have an excuse to establish a military presence in the system.
“But you would say that two hundred’ ten is probably the minimum?” Beech breathed carefully.
Royce briefly glanced out the window, beyond the rays of light pouring through the solid sheet of glass he could see the trees across the river swaying in the light wind. Of course they’d considered it, this was a safe assumption for if it weren’t on their minds it would certainly be on his. “Yes,” Royce said, “two hundred and ten warships would be the minimum.”
“Then it’s settled.” Beech pushed himself up from his chair. “The first thing we need to do is draw up a report for the President, we must convince him that this is the best course of action to preserve the security of the North Western Bloc.”
The rest of the group rose from their seats. “That won’t be an issue.” Hayes said to Beech and the others. “We’ll be filing our own independent report, I’m sure it will be persuasive.”
Further north at the Spacedrome, Eric and Dev had concluded all the pre-flight checks and were ready for departure.
Dev’s station continued to chime away as he punched in commands, checking the engines. Dev’s wiry frame was bathed in the dull blue light emanating from his monitor. “Hey, Eric.” He spoke flatly through the intercom, “One of the reactor cells has blown.”
“Yeah, I know,” Eric held his finger on the intercom button, “there’s still eleven more. After we’ve made a few runs I’ll get it replaced.”
“We’ll be under powered.” Dev responded.
“I know Dev, but the ship passes inspection. We’ll have to settle for what we’ve got. If you’ve finished all the checks would you mind firing up the engines?”
“Yeah, sure.” As if Dev had anything better to do. He typed in a final command into his console and hit enter.
A low pitch whine began to sound from the engines followed by a mild rumble. The reactor hummed as the aft section of the vessel came to life. Eric sat and watched all gauges slowly turn green. Eric tapped a few commands into his own console on the bridge and brought up his checklists.
‘The FL207 Hermes class transport getting started guide; equipment installation, pre-flight checks, crew preparation, reactor diagnostics, engine warm-up procedure, avionics and navigation, flight, repair and maintenance.’
Eric briefly thumbed through the various checklists making sure he’d done everything and double-checked all the various procedures. He’d covered it all when he sat his license but reminders always helped. He began to wonder if Jay might have been right, maybe he wasn’t prepared for this. For now he’d have to cast away his doubts and press forward. His dreams of adventure were only the press of a master ignition button away.
He sat in the pilot’s seat of the three-person bridge. He observed his surroundings, it seemed unusual to Eric that it was referred to as a bridge and not a cockpit for it both looked and felt like a cockpit, yet there was some technicality that he was not familiar with that made it a bridge.
“This is BZR eight zero two five two,” Eric spoke after touching the COM control, “Eric Sedden requesting departure clearance.”
“Copy,” came the response, “that is Bravo, Zulu, Romeo eight zero two five two, transmit vessel registration.”
Eric tapped the controls. A few moments later there was another response, “confirmed vessel registration: Bravo, Zulu, Romeo eight zero two five two, Hermes transport Huntley, clearance granted.”
Huntley? Eric hadn’t even given any thought to a name let alone considered that the ship might already have one. There were no side markings; at least any that were still intact and as far as Eric was aware the vessel was simply known as BZR-80252.
“Dev,” Eric spoke into the intercom, “transfer power to engines and prepare for lift-off.”
“Alright.” Dev’s flat voice emerged from the speaker.
The hum of the reactor grew louder as the engines rumbled. Eric hit the master ignition button and eased up the controls. At first it happened slowly then the pace quickened until finally the Huntley was no longer on the ground. Eric could feel the controls shaking as the ship ascended. Once the minimum height was cleared Eric adjusted the attitude control and pressed the ship forward and upward towards the clouds. Eric then triggered the thrusters to automatically adjust the exit angle before the computer took care of the rest.
Eric couldn’t help but start to feel nervous, very nervous as the blue sky started to thin, eventually leaving only the dark void of space. Eric glanced out the front viewing window, the Earth was behind him now and all that remained were the stars.
He patched into the ship’s systems and began tapped at the keyboard, scrolling through various segments of information. Dev reached out and touched a small red control to his right. “Hey...Eric.” Dev paused. “You know this thing’s 42 years old?”
“I know Dev, I was kind of working too a budget.” Eric responded from the pilot’s chair through the ship’s intercom.
With the bulk of the ship taken up by the engines and cargo hold the interior throughout was a cramped mess of brown interior plating and pipe systems. Eric was sitting in the pilot’s seat, the afternoon sunlight shined through the narrow windows over the instrument panel. He flicked a switch causing some of the gauges to light up. He flicked it again and powered back down. “Seems to be working.” He uttered.
Some hundreds of miles to the south lay the decision makers of the North West. Washington, currently one of the world’s most influential places for it acted as not just a Capital for the current incarnation of the United States but also for the entire North Western bloc. Needless to say the entire area had seen a great deal of development over the years.
With winter soon approaching there was a cool chill in the air.
A suited man pushed the door and entered a sizeable office overlooking the river.
“Ah, Mr. Royce. Thank you for coming, please sit.” The man behind the desk stood up and motioned towards the chair next to where another man and a woman were quietly sitting. The plaque on the man’s desk read ‘Martin Beech, Director of Colonial Security.’
“Mr. Royce I’d like to introduce you to Mr. Lionel Hayes; our representative from Stelcorp and Miss Janet Verhaart; political advisor.” He faced the pair, “This is Vincent Royce; our military director.
The pair exchanges handshakes and greetings with Royce before sitting back in their chairs. “Before we begin,” Royce said to Beech, “I would like Stelcorp’s interest in this matter clarified. I was under the impression that this was a NWB matter.”
“That’s precisely what I’m here to explain.” Mr. Hayes spoke to Royce. “I will be happy to answer any questions you may have.”
“We’ll get to Stelcorp in just a moment.” Beech sat back down in his chair. “As you’re all aware we’ve been having some trouble with our colonies in Corsica Nova. So far there hasn’t been anything apart from work outages and the occasional problem between our security forces and the local population. Now as you are also no doubt aware we are not the only bloc with colonies in Corsica Nova so you can be sure the other Blocs are no doubt watching this situation closely. From what our intelligence has gathered the European colonies are also experiencing some problems.”
“We’ve heard from a reliable source that there has been talk of dissent in both the European colonies and our own.”
“I’ve read the report,” Royce said, “there’s been some dissatisfaction but I haven’t seen anything to suggest that there’s any risk to the security of this bloc.”
Beech turned pressed a button and fired up the presentation screen in his office. On it a picture from one of the Corsica Nova colonies was displayed.
“This is from a bar in the Corsica Nova system, a colony on one of Corsica Prime’s moons. The man on the left is Elijah Milton, the former colonial magistrate, he resigned last year for personal reasons and has been working for a private security firm ever since. The man on the right is Antoine Rousseau, a French colonial official that works for the colonial authority on Corsica Prime. Unfortunately our man couldn’t intercept their conversation but there’s only a very select few possible reasons for these people to meet. What’s more is that Milton arrived and left on an unregistered transport. If what we believe is going on is in fact going on this could be disastrous for the NWB.” Beech sat back and allowed the others in the room to think over what he just told them.
“I agree,” Miss Verhaart spoke, “any civil unrest in the outer colonies could provoke a public backlash against the current administration, especially if another bloc is involved. The president’s approval ratings have declined nearly ten percent. The public simply doesn’t trust him. If those colonies decided to succeed from the bloc then there’s no telling how many others will follow their example. I’m sure Mr Hayes here is well aware of the economic consequences should this happen.”
“That’s exactly right.” Hayes chimed in. “Stelcorp has made a significant investment in production and extraction in Corsica Nova. Any instability in that region would make for some significant complications of which we are not currently prepared to accept.”
“So what does that have to do with the administration?” Royce asked.
“We are prepared to offer a substantial contribution to the administration’s campaign efforts in order to see this matter resolved.” Hayes sat perfectly still and spoke in a steady tone with no sign of hesitation.
There was a moment’s silence.
Slowly Beech turned his stare directly at Royce. “What I’m proposing is that we move military assets into the Corsica Nova system.”
“How many?” Royce asked with stern expression.
Beech responded without moving a muscle, “How many would it take to secure Corsica Nova should there be an uprising?”
Royce thought for a moment. “It is only a colony but it is a reasonably sized colony. If the local security forces were over run then I would have to assume that they have access to everything in the garrison. Then if the European colonies join in then I’d also have to assume that we’d encounter their assets there as well. I wouldn’t feel comfortable sending any less then at least sixty of our heavier assets, light cruisers and up, also at least a hundred and fifty of our destroyers and frigates.”
“So, around two hundred and ten ships plus strike craft?” Beech asked to clarify.
“At a rough guess. I’d have to consult the Admirals and have their defensive capabilities properly analyzed before making any final decision.” Royce glanced at the others in the room, he wondered if they’d considered the resulting effects of the NWB being able to oust any united from these European and North Western colonies put up. As long as the NWB arrived there first they’d have an excuse to establish a military presence in the system.
“But you would say that two hundred’ ten is probably the minimum?” Beech breathed carefully.
Royce briefly glanced out the window, beyond the rays of light pouring through the solid sheet of glass he could see the trees across the river swaying in the light wind. Of course they’d considered it, this was a safe assumption for if it weren’t on their minds it would certainly be on his. “Yes,” Royce said, “two hundred and ten warships would be the minimum.”
“Then it’s settled.” Beech pushed himself up from his chair. “The first thing we need to do is draw up a report for the President, we must convince him that this is the best course of action to preserve the security of the North Western Bloc.”
The rest of the group rose from their seats. “That won’t be an issue.” Hayes said to Beech and the others. “We’ll be filing our own independent report, I’m sure it will be persuasive.”
Further north at the Spacedrome, Eric and Dev had concluded all the pre-flight checks and were ready for departure.
Dev’s station continued to chime away as he punched in commands, checking the engines. Dev’s wiry frame was bathed in the dull blue light emanating from his monitor. “Hey, Eric.” He spoke flatly through the intercom, “One of the reactor cells has blown.”
“Yeah, I know,” Eric held his finger on the intercom button, “there’s still eleven more. After we’ve made a few runs I’ll get it replaced.”
“We’ll be under powered.” Dev responded.
“I know Dev, but the ship passes inspection. We’ll have to settle for what we’ve got. If you’ve finished all the checks would you mind firing up the engines?”
“Yeah, sure.” As if Dev had anything better to do. He typed in a final command into his console and hit enter.
A low pitch whine began to sound from the engines followed by a mild rumble. The reactor hummed as the aft section of the vessel came to life. Eric sat and watched all gauges slowly turn green. Eric tapped a few commands into his own console on the bridge and brought up his checklists.
‘The FL207 Hermes class transport getting started guide; equipment installation, pre-flight checks, crew preparation, reactor diagnostics, engine warm-up procedure, avionics and navigation, flight, repair and maintenance.’
Eric briefly thumbed through the various checklists making sure he’d done everything and double-checked all the various procedures. He’d covered it all when he sat his license but reminders always helped. He began to wonder if Jay might have been right, maybe he wasn’t prepared for this. For now he’d have to cast away his doubts and press forward. His dreams of adventure were only the press of a master ignition button away.
He sat in the pilot’s seat of the three-person bridge. He observed his surroundings, it seemed unusual to Eric that it was referred to as a bridge and not a cockpit for it both looked and felt like a cockpit, yet there was some technicality that he was not familiar with that made it a bridge.
“This is BZR eight zero two five two,” Eric spoke after touching the COM control, “Eric Sedden requesting departure clearance.”
“Copy,” came the response, “that is Bravo, Zulu, Romeo eight zero two five two, transmit vessel registration.”
Eric tapped the controls. A few moments later there was another response, “confirmed vessel registration: Bravo, Zulu, Romeo eight zero two five two, Hermes transport Huntley, clearance granted.”
Huntley? Eric hadn’t even given any thought to a name let alone considered that the ship might already have one. There were no side markings; at least any that were still intact and as far as Eric was aware the vessel was simply known as BZR-80252.
“Dev,” Eric spoke into the intercom, “transfer power to engines and prepare for lift-off.”
“Alright.” Dev’s flat voice emerged from the speaker.
The hum of the reactor grew louder as the engines rumbled. Eric hit the master ignition button and eased up the controls. At first it happened slowly then the pace quickened until finally the Huntley was no longer on the ground. Eric could feel the controls shaking as the ship ascended. Once the minimum height was cleared Eric adjusted the attitude control and pressed the ship forward and upward towards the clouds. Eric then triggered the thrusters to automatically adjust the exit angle before the computer took care of the rest.
Eric couldn’t help but start to feel nervous, very nervous as the blue sky started to thin, eventually leaving only the dark void of space. Eric glanced out the front viewing window, the Earth was behind him now and all that remained were the stars.