The Rotorcraft flew in low over the ocean, foam practically touching its bottom. Seabase Reisangarde was visible, barely a few miles away, a black monolith rising from the sea.
“Rotorcraft Creon-11 to Reisangarde, stand by for landing.” Governor Tyrion Abrams’s pilot said into his comm, a secured one-time-pad line-the R-Bomb was secret, especially from the UTF Government.
“Reisangarde to Creon-11, standing by to receive on Pad Three. Chamber 113?”
“Affirmative, Reisangarde.” Celia tensed, clipboard in hand. No electronic data about Reisangarde ever went to the mainland, and the paper ones were always under the supervision of a member of the Governor's family.
“Rotorcraft Creon-11 to Reisangarde, stand by for landing.” Governor Tyrion Abrams’s pilot said into his comm, a secured one-time-pad line-the R-Bomb was secret, especially from the UTF Government.
“Reisangarde to Creon-11, standing by to receive on Pad Three. Chamber 113?”
“Affirmative, Reisangarde.” Celia tensed, clipboard in hand. No electronic data about Reisangarde ever went to the mainland, and the paper ones were always under the supervision of a member of the Governor's family.
As the Rotorcraft crossed the half-mile mark, a pair of locally-produced Toroa Crossover Fighters swept past-while the Kotrian government owned several dozen Mil-Ind Tachyon and Photon fighters in its arsenal, they were aging, and anything from Mil-Ind was rather healthily mistrusted on general principle.
The Toroas swept off to the side, climbing practically vertically. Celia had requested them-the Rotorcraft were highly vulnerable when alone.
Moments later they touched down on Reisangarde, two squads of Kotran Soldiers rushing forward to provide an honor guard for the governor. At their center was General Adrian Kavver, a native Kotran. The Kotrian subspecies had been one of the few to survive the Republic-Imperiata War without serious-genocidal-levels of casualties. His face was pale, though hairless, eyes sunken, with his ears pulled closer to his skull than a Terran’s. His nose was flattened, but the nostrils larger, and, she knew from personal experience, the skin was smooth and rubbery.
Celia motioned the soldiers on the Rotorcraft to disembark, fanning out, before her father, the Governor, exited the aircraft. Celia herself exited last, clipboard in hand, hoping that they were undetected.
“It is ready, General?” Tyrion asked, as he approached the military man.
“Yes, Governor.” Adrian’s voice was surprisingly high-pitched, another adaptation to the Kotran’s aquatic heritage. Where the Aqarians, who had also been adapted to an aquatic world, had taken inspiration from the fish, adding gills to their respiratory system, the Kotrans had taken inspiration from cetaceans, changing themselves to become more dolphin-like. One of the abilities they had acquired in this way had been limited echolocation. “The Reality Bomb is ready for the first test.”
Even Celia, who had privately doubted the project, felt a small thrill at that.
None of them spoke as Adrian led them further into the Reisangarde Complex-the excitement was palpable in the air, even the Complex’s guards, who were largely in the dark about the true purpose of Reisangarde, displaying a heightened tension. Celia could literally feel it-their Neuronic Implants fed back into hers, making them able to feel the state of other Kotran soldiers within a small distance. It was a far cry from the technology that Tactical had begun deploying in recent years, but it should be capable of negating Tactical’s edge.
It took barely ten minutes to reach the Ansible Room. The Ansible was visible as a point in the center of the room, blinding light emanating forth from it, as well as radiation on both ends of the visible spectrum. The massive equipment used to keep that under control hummed all around them, diverting excess radiation, mass, and other energy into more productive uses, such as running the facility, as well as several cities.
Technically Reisangarde was a power plant. Hell, technically it was an experimental power plant, which was actually mostly true.
They just experimented with ripping the fabric of reality apart at times.
Kavver spoke to a scientist momentarily, then turned to Celia’s father. “Governor Tyrion.” He said. “The test is ready to begin.”
Tyrion nodded. “Activate.”
A man in a white lab coat stepped forward, tablet in hand, microphone at his mouth. “Greetings, Governor Abrams. As I’m sure you’re aware-.”
Celia’s father cut the scientist off. “We all know what it is. Activate the test.”
Celia looked over the Ansibilics data in the UTFS Valkyrie’s War Room, a pair of Tactical agents behind her. Reisangarde had fallen swiftly, Kotran soldiers littering the hallways as the Republic’s Marines had stormed the facility. Well over twenty Tactical Agents had been on hand, and even Celia’s neuronic-enhanced soldiers had been unable to make any headway.
In short, the Republic now held all data about the Reality Bomb, as well as the facilities equipped to finalize their design and create one.
A door slid open behind Celia, and she resisted the urge to turn. The Agents had been quite clear-she was to remain facing the display with the Bomb readouts at all times.
Tactical Agents were deliberately cruel. She didn’t dare think about what was happening to her father.
“You may turn, Miss Abrams.”
Celia did so. She found herself staring straight into the singular eye of Admiral Riya Dare, the head of the UTF in Kotra’s sector. Riya had lost that eye in the Xon war, after a shuttle she was on was downed over a battlefront on Gleise 581. She had been one of a half-dozen survivors who had fought their way through an apocalyptic war zone with no access to supplies of any variety. Her eye hadn’t been lost in combat-rather, a common infection had taken hold, that, due to their primitive conditions, had destroyed it.
“Miss Abrams, you have five minutes to convince me that you are useful to me. You may begin now.”
Dare was known for her bluntness, but somehow Celia had never expected something like this. “We began the Reality Bomb five years ago, at a time when experimental Ansibilics was being highly funded by the Republic-that’s why Reisangarde was built. It was initially a side project, something to assess with excess processing power on the station’s computers. My father quickly realized its potential, and began to fund the R Bomb independently of the rest of Reisangarde. The original purpose was to present it to the First Citizen as a gift when it was completed, however, a militant faction in our government convinced him that we should retain it to deploy as a bargaining chip.”
“Which is why you attempted military buildup in the past few years?”
“Exactly. Certain members of our government had a vague idea of defeating your Strike Group and claiming control of the sector.”
Dare laughed. “Given how quickly we took them to pieces, I’d have dismissed the possibility of someone even thinking of that as recently as yesterday.”
Celia nodded. “That’s what the R Bomb was for-with Ansibilic Warheads, a fighter could obliterate a ship dozens of times its size.”
“All very interesting, Miss Abrams-but not enough to convince me that your life will be more productive than your equivalent mass in fertilizer.”
Celia swallowed. “I know where you can get the the one-time-pad for Reisangarde.”
“We took all electronics from you.”
“It wasn’t on those-it was only stored on the Reisangarde computers, and their hardware was based around an ansibilic line to a space-side server. Everything was encrypted and decrypted offsite. It’s a tiny satellite, barely a foot in diameter, with an ansible so weak that a scanner will have to be within half a mile to pick its signal up anyway-and the Reisangarde ansibles were all destroyed in the blast from the R Bomb. That’s the beauty of ansibilic computing-there’s no reason whatsoever for two components of the same system to be in the same place.”
Dare was silent for several moments. “You can get the satellite for us?”
“I can get you the orbital path.”
“Good enough.” Dare scribbled some things down on her tablet. “I don’t think we will end up killing you, at least, not directly. We’ll be sending you off to somewhere we can watch you though-probably another Strike Group.”
Celia nodded. That would make PR far easier for the Admiral-killing members of the Republic's elite was frowned upon by other members of such. It made them insecure to remind them that they were mortal.
“You may go, Miss Abrams-someone will decide what to do with you after I have that satellite in my hands. And neither myself nor any other member of the Governance Committee should ever see you again, at least, under these circumstances. We won’t be anywhere near as forgiving the second time.”
Silently, Celia bowed, and left the room. As a Tactical Agent escorted her back to her cell, she decided something. She knew that they couldn’t just kill her without some sort of fanfare, which is what would likely happen to her father. He was a Planetary Governor, and, unfortunately, his execution would send a very clear message to others of his station.
And if there was one thing he had taught her about the world, it was that you always had to be ready to react quickly and decisively to whatever occurred. Celia had no doubt that Dare would disregard her word at a moments notice. And, while she mourned her father’s inevitable death, she knew that there would be one thing he’d want above all for her to do in this situation.
Survive.
The Toroas swept off to the side, climbing practically vertically. Celia had requested them-the Rotorcraft were highly vulnerable when alone.
Moments later they touched down on Reisangarde, two squads of Kotran Soldiers rushing forward to provide an honor guard for the governor. At their center was General Adrian Kavver, a native Kotran. The Kotrian subspecies had been one of the few to survive the Republic-Imperiata War without serious-genocidal-levels of casualties. His face was pale, though hairless, eyes sunken, with his ears pulled closer to his skull than a Terran’s. His nose was flattened, but the nostrils larger, and, she knew from personal experience, the skin was smooth and rubbery.
Celia motioned the soldiers on the Rotorcraft to disembark, fanning out, before her father, the Governor, exited the aircraft. Celia herself exited last, clipboard in hand, hoping that they were undetected.
“It is ready, General?” Tyrion asked, as he approached the military man.
“Yes, Governor.” Adrian’s voice was surprisingly high-pitched, another adaptation to the Kotran’s aquatic heritage. Where the Aqarians, who had also been adapted to an aquatic world, had taken inspiration from the fish, adding gills to their respiratory system, the Kotrans had taken inspiration from cetaceans, changing themselves to become more dolphin-like. One of the abilities they had acquired in this way had been limited echolocation. “The Reality Bomb is ready for the first test.”
Even Celia, who had privately doubted the project, felt a small thrill at that.
None of them spoke as Adrian led them further into the Reisangarde Complex-the excitement was palpable in the air, even the Complex’s guards, who were largely in the dark about the true purpose of Reisangarde, displaying a heightened tension. Celia could literally feel it-their Neuronic Implants fed back into hers, making them able to feel the state of other Kotran soldiers within a small distance. It was a far cry from the technology that Tactical had begun deploying in recent years, but it should be capable of negating Tactical’s edge.
It took barely ten minutes to reach the Ansible Room. The Ansible was visible as a point in the center of the room, blinding light emanating forth from it, as well as radiation on both ends of the visible spectrum. The massive equipment used to keep that under control hummed all around them, diverting excess radiation, mass, and other energy into more productive uses, such as running the facility, as well as several cities.
Technically Reisangarde was a power plant. Hell, technically it was an experimental power plant, which was actually mostly true.
They just experimented with ripping the fabric of reality apart at times.
Kavver spoke to a scientist momentarily, then turned to Celia’s father. “Governor Tyrion.” He said. “The test is ready to begin.”
Tyrion nodded. “Activate.”
A man in a white lab coat stepped forward, tablet in hand, microphone at his mouth. “Greetings, Governor Abrams. As I’m sure you’re aware-.”
Celia’s father cut the scientist off. “We all know what it is. Activate the test.”
Celia looked over the Ansibilics data in the UTFS Valkyrie’s War Room, a pair of Tactical agents behind her. Reisangarde had fallen swiftly, Kotran soldiers littering the hallways as the Republic’s Marines had stormed the facility. Well over twenty Tactical Agents had been on hand, and even Celia’s neuronic-enhanced soldiers had been unable to make any headway.
In short, the Republic now held all data about the Reality Bomb, as well as the facilities equipped to finalize their design and create one.
A door slid open behind Celia, and she resisted the urge to turn. The Agents had been quite clear-she was to remain facing the display with the Bomb readouts at all times.
Tactical Agents were deliberately cruel. She didn’t dare think about what was happening to her father.
“You may turn, Miss Abrams.”
Celia did so. She found herself staring straight into the singular eye of Admiral Riya Dare, the head of the UTF in Kotra’s sector. Riya had lost that eye in the Xon war, after a shuttle she was on was downed over a battlefront on Gleise 581. She had been one of a half-dozen survivors who had fought their way through an apocalyptic war zone with no access to supplies of any variety. Her eye hadn’t been lost in combat-rather, a common infection had taken hold, that, due to their primitive conditions, had destroyed it.
“Miss Abrams, you have five minutes to convince me that you are useful to me. You may begin now.”
Dare was known for her bluntness, but somehow Celia had never expected something like this. “We began the Reality Bomb five years ago, at a time when experimental Ansibilics was being highly funded by the Republic-that’s why Reisangarde was built. It was initially a side project, something to assess with excess processing power on the station’s computers. My father quickly realized its potential, and began to fund the R Bomb independently of the rest of Reisangarde. The original purpose was to present it to the First Citizen as a gift when it was completed, however, a militant faction in our government convinced him that we should retain it to deploy as a bargaining chip.”
“Which is why you attempted military buildup in the past few years?”
“Exactly. Certain members of our government had a vague idea of defeating your Strike Group and claiming control of the sector.”
Dare laughed. “Given how quickly we took them to pieces, I’d have dismissed the possibility of someone even thinking of that as recently as yesterday.”
Celia nodded. “That’s what the R Bomb was for-with Ansibilic Warheads, a fighter could obliterate a ship dozens of times its size.”
“All very interesting, Miss Abrams-but not enough to convince me that your life will be more productive than your equivalent mass in fertilizer.”
Celia swallowed. “I know where you can get the the one-time-pad for Reisangarde.”
“We took all electronics from you.”
“It wasn’t on those-it was only stored on the Reisangarde computers, and their hardware was based around an ansibilic line to a space-side server. Everything was encrypted and decrypted offsite. It’s a tiny satellite, barely a foot in diameter, with an ansible so weak that a scanner will have to be within half a mile to pick its signal up anyway-and the Reisangarde ansibles were all destroyed in the blast from the R Bomb. That’s the beauty of ansibilic computing-there’s no reason whatsoever for two components of the same system to be in the same place.”
Dare was silent for several moments. “You can get the satellite for us?”
“I can get you the orbital path.”
“Good enough.” Dare scribbled some things down on her tablet. “I don’t think we will end up killing you, at least, not directly. We’ll be sending you off to somewhere we can watch you though-probably another Strike Group.”
Celia nodded. That would make PR far easier for the Admiral-killing members of the Republic's elite was frowned upon by other members of such. It made them insecure to remind them that they were mortal.
“You may go, Miss Abrams-someone will decide what to do with you after I have that satellite in my hands. And neither myself nor any other member of the Governance Committee should ever see you again, at least, under these circumstances. We won’t be anywhere near as forgiving the second time.”
Silently, Celia bowed, and left the room. As a Tactical Agent escorted her back to her cell, she decided something. She knew that they couldn’t just kill her without some sort of fanfare, which is what would likely happen to her father. He was a Planetary Governor, and, unfortunately, his execution would send a very clear message to others of his station.
And if there was one thing he had taught her about the world, it was that you always had to be ready to react quickly and decisively to whatever occurred. Celia had no doubt that Dare would disregard her word at a moments notice. And, while she mourned her father’s inevitable death, she knew that there would be one thing he’d want above all for her to do in this situation.
Survive.