Juaire Mk II-class
De Grasse, Calubra System
The boxy warship reverted to realspace; from the bridge viewport, Lieutenant Maldova watched the elongated lines of faster than light travel diminish into the more familiar pin-pricks of stars. Calubra's blue star beat down on the hull, bathing it in an icy cold light that cast shadows from the corvettes dozens of quad laser cannons. He involuntary shivered, contemplating which fate would be worse: to be turned into a Reaver or to shrivel up and die in the cold vacuum of space. A dozen of Shadowcasters hovered around the hull, almost giving the Till Chorios native a measure of reassurance. He glanced down at the sensor display, noting the dozens of dots present. But not the
Revanche. Not yet.
“Sensors, do you have any updates for us?” questioned the junior officer.
“Sir,” replied an enlisted sailor, “the Reaver nanite cloud has not noticeably changed, nor are there any new starships in the area, aside from Confederate vessels.”
“Well, at least that part went according to the plan. Communications, inform the fleet about our status. We are not in any danger of infecting the fleet. Sensors, begin a detailed scan of the cloud and prepare to transmit the information to the Revanche.”
Maldova glanced around the viewport, looking for any other of the Confederation warships. Yet he could not make them out, nor the ominous Reaver nanite cloud.
We're all pretty far away, enough to ensure that we're not in danger, and far enough to notice and potentially block the Reaver cloud from infecting us. Is the Reaver cloud intelligent enough to know of our presence here? Or does it just mindlessly infect whatever it touches? The Black Dragons were capable of some truly impressive technological feats. Could they have done such a thing? A massive, ephermal flash of light followed by a huge mass of gray in the viewport banished the thoughts from his head. Hundreds of meters away, the
Revanche entered the system, with the bulk of the Confederation fleet trailing in her wake. The man gripped the armrests of his seat tightly. A
little close, aren't we Admiral? The Confederation fleet was well-versed and practiced in that sort of precise hyperjumping, but it still unnerved the man.
Barely had the flagship of the Confederation entered subspace when it opened fire on the distant cloud of terrors. Dozens of incandescent rays of white-gold light burst forth from the blisters on the warship's hull...and stayed active for several seconds. The lieutenant frowned.
That's no turbolaser weapon...tachyon cannons, probably taken off this ship's decommissioned predecessors. Like at the last Battle of Vahaba...so the real Admiral Lucerne is using information demonstrated by the clone-Corise actually to test KDI's theories about BDE technology after all... He glanced around to see more of the bright particle beams erupting from the rear of the Confederation fleet as several more Suffren-class Cruisers added their own tachyon cannons to the mix, obliterating the nanites in massive swathes.
It probably doesn't help the nanite cloud that it's not shielded, but being so diffusive has its benefits. I'd guess it will take weeks of this to completely wipe the last traces of the virus from the system...
*****
Two Weeks Later...
Ryecer, Calubra
Rear-Admiral Lucerne strode through the streets of the planet's capital. On most worlds, it might have been a small town. Despite a main thoroughfare no more than four lanes wide at its greatest girth, traffic easily flowed through the street as if it were no more than a mere residential side street on Audacia. In the distance, the largest building on Calubra towered a whole ten stories. Corise turned to his compatriot, a grizzled, aging man named Adaga. Adaga was the planet's lead Encourager. A somewhat odd sounding title to Lucerne's ears.
But I suppose he lets the blasters do the talking...The Kashan man pointed to the building.
“What is that place”? questioned the younger Lucerne, “your government building?”
Adaga shook his head, “Nah. The buildings a corporate one. It has a lot of tenants, mostly small bachani businesses, not growers mostly. Think more of small-time processors, bachani shipping offices, you know, that sort of thing. Funny thing about that, there's a lot of those companies closing shop now. Just...Like...That...Funny coincidence, that and your arrival, and then your interest in the building.”
Corise stared hard at the building, focusing on not revealing anything through his body to the the man who passed as the planet's primary military leader. The negotiations between the Confederation and the new government of Calubra had been intense, and not entirely friendly to some of the planet's inhabitants. Many of them were worried about losing the world's devil-may-cry attitude: a more normal measure of law and order had come to world finally. Bachani cultivators were not wholly thrilled with the Confederation's extra-planetary controlled substance laws; likewise, many in the Confederation remained skeptical of the growers' intent. Corise was more skeptical of Adaga's intent, after hearing the man's version of “justice”. The younger Lucerne turned and stared down at the bushy face of the “Encourager”.
“Perhaps,” decided Lucerne, “some people are adjusting to the changes already. I realize that you are currently in a position which has changed somewhat, from being more of a doer to more of a supervisor. Perhaps you would care to enlighten me on the subject.”
“Not much to say,” muttered the man, “those shield generators you've been pestering me about are in the process of changing hands into the government now. But I sure as hell won't be in charge of them, because that's not my job. Look, they may have been able to force me into this lead military man position for now, but don't get used to me. It looks like I'm headed elsewhere, jackass.”
Corise suppressed a grin, “That sounds an awful like disrespect to a superior officer.”
“Don't give me that regulation crap,” replied the man, jabbing a grubby finger into Lucerne's tunic, “I remember the days when Calubra was a hub of free will. When anybody could do almost anything, and as long as it didn't hurt anyone, everyone else could care less. Now we have all these threats, and suddenly the younger generation is pushing for this order. And now the old-timers like myself have to go this ridiculous route because of necessity. Don't you push your luck on me. I've taken out over a hundred men. How many have you killed?”
Corise hesitated.
Indirectly, or directly, I've probably been responsible for more deaths than there are people on this backwater world. Not that he'd want to hear it. Hell, I'm responsible for more people just in my little expeditionary force here than there are people on this planet.
“More than I care to admit,” replied Corise testily, “more than you would care to know.”
His comlink began to vibrate. Holding up a hand to the “Encourager”, the Rear-Admiral tapped a button on his comlink.
“Sir, there is a call for you from Brandenburg.”
“Who is it?” questioned Lucerne, “if it is anyone connected to Pro-Consul Thorn, I'm not available.”
“Roger sir. I'll tell them you're busy like before.”
Corise turned the device off and neatly pocketed it. The younger Lucerne glanced over the “Encourager”.
There's a lot of fight in him, and at least he stands for the values he believes in. I should give him the chance. But not here. The two bantered back and forth as they continued to walk towards the
Java. They went back over the new organizational differences that would be taking place as Calubra entered the Confederation, including its change from Bochani Heaven. A demand not from the Confederation, but rather the younger generation that was beginning to take the power in the loosely formed direct democracy. Corise was skeptical that would work; contemplating if they should agree to set up some sort of back-up plan to a more traditional government if the direct democracy somehow fell flat on its face. Roughly an hour later, the two entered the
Java, the Admiral's shuttle since his days as the captain of the
Seraph. Corise handed the man a cup of fresh caf off the shuttle's caf maker.
“I want your opinion on something,” decided Lucerne, measuring his words, “and maybe even your trust. Man to man, and not to leave this room.”
Adaga snorted, “And what's that? The taste of your caf? It's not bad, not amazing...”
“Just exactly how stable do you think Calubra's new government is going to be? I realize that all new governments have their growing pains.”
The other man sipped his caf, his tired brown eyes bore into the younger man's, “Look, I know we seem a bit weird, maybe even crazy to you. But given how long Bachani Heaven went without a true government, I think we'll be fine. Even if I don't really like it. What are you getting at?”
“You didn't seem fond of the lead candidate for Calubra's councilor.”
“He isn't a straight-shooter, maybe a little too close in mold to your little Diplomatic Corps for my liking. But you knew that. What are you getting at?”
Corise hesitated, “I don't fully trust many of the Councilors on the Council right now. If you hear anything that you don't like, or you think isn't straight coming from that man, I want to know.”
“You're suspicious of your own government? Maybe we have more in common than I thought,” decided the old man, finishing off his caf, “I heard about the whole clone thing. I thought it was a whole one-time deal.”
“I don't know,” informed Lucerne, “I don't know if they all have something else going on behind my back, behind our backs, and I don't want to be blindsided again. I'm assuming you do not.”
“We're not getting into anything your people might consider to be treasonous, are we?” questioned the man, “because that's where it sounds like we're headed.”
“Treason is actively hurting the government, and more importantly, it's people,” rebutted Lucerne, “no, what I'm talking about is for the good of the Confederation...”
