“The Phantom’s been in service longer than you’ve been alive, kids.” the Coronan said, shaking his head knowingly. Commander F’vor’s UTF uniform had the word ‘PLANKOWNER’ stitched across the back in faded gold letters, a highly unofficial modification. “She was the lead boat of her class, the first Human ships to use cloaking technology.”
Seth stiffened as the man said the word ‘Human’. While it was technically synonymous with Terran, its meaning had become, over the past few decades, equally synonymous with the Imperiata and its doctrine of ‘Soleon Supremacy’.
Seth stiffened as the man said the word ‘Human’. While it was technically synonymous with Terran, its meaning had become, over the past few decades, equally synonymous with the Imperiata and its doctrine of ‘Soleon Supremacy’.
“We were right on the front lines of VT Day, gunning down Xon fighters like nobody’s business. We were the ship that the First Citizen chose to whisk him out of the system a few months later when the negotiations with the Imperiata broke down. During that war, we were the ship that the first Tactical operations were based off of. I remember having over a dozen Ictarid gunships on this flight deck alone, REPUBLICOM Commandos, FLINT Teams, and Tactical Agents taking them off into the depths of space...” F’vor trailed off wistfully.
Seth could tell that the Coronan had a lot of memories attached to the ship, which was perfect-that’s why they had picked him, after all.
“We were the ship that was used to deploy the Antimatter Loom over Raven. The war dragged on for fifteen years after that, but everyone knew that we’d either win or be hauled into a prolonged grudge-match, but no-one thought that the Imperiata had any real chance of decisive action after that point. It wasn’t all bad though-we were the ship that the First Citizen and the leader of the Imperiata signed peace terms on in 19. We ran refugees off of Kynak in 23, and were the model ship for the New Fleet Operation Guidelines in 24. Back in 25, after the New Fleet transition was wrapped up, we were transferred back to Mil-Ind command. And, well, now we’re beginning our thirty-ninth Tour, heading out to Bernan to deliver relief supplies. You’re all a part of that now. Any questions?”
Immediately a hand went up, somewhere to Seth’s right. They had hand-picked these Middies to appear in the doc, after all. “Is it true that Admiral Hazzard was a plankowner on the Phantom?”
F’vor nodded. “More or less. He was serving with Admiral Shishani’s Strike Group at the time, in an essential role, so he wasn’t at the commissioning, but he arrived soon after.”
“Is it true that this was the ship that nuked New York?” Another person asked.
F’vor nodded. “SOLCOM ordered us to carpet-bomb the city right after they finished evacuating the upper levels of the facility.”
“Would you have done that?” Seth mentally curled his lip at the naive question, taking note of who had asked it, and remove them from further filming sessions.
“I was a fighter pilot, kid. I still am, at heart. I know that I was one of the people who flew nuclear warheads on his Tachyon as a matter of course-these were the days before we had the Antimatter Loom, so while our ships ran on it, it would wipe the entire planet clean if you used it as a weapon. The nukes didn’t do that, and H-Tech cleaned up the radiation within a few years-it’s where the Palatine Building is now, after all.”
“But would you have given the order to drop them if you had been in charge?”
“I would have done whatever it took to end the war-just like I fully expect that anyone here would have done in that situation.” The Coronan’s eyes flashed.
“What about the Antimatter Loom at Raven?” Seth was really hating this middie now, although as a Computer Technician it wasn’t his place to interfere-just to make the edit look seamless.
“Next question.” the Director said, waving to F’vor.
“Did you ever meet the First Citizen?” another middie asked, a male this time.
“Just once, in passing.” F’vor replied. “He addressed the crew of the Phantom immediately after the treaty-signing. He’s an inspirational man-there’s a reason that we follow him.”
“What was it like to serve with Admiral Hazzard?” Another Middie asked.
“He’s a very intense man-I worked under him as the CSG for about half his command here, and, well... Admiral Hazzard will use every ship under his command to the best of its ability. He trusts his commanders implicitly, and gives them more autonomy than any other commander I’ve ever served under, but, if you fail him, he never forgets.”
“What’s stuck with you the most about the wars you’ve fought in?” This time it was the director, stepping in, indicating that the interview was almost over.
“The fact that we continue to throw Terran life away at an increasing rate. Yes, sacrifices must be made, and I’ll follow orders-I have faith in the Republic’s leadership. But it seems like we’re always willing to pay higher and higher prices for smaller and smaller victories.”
“And what scares you most about them?”
“Oh... I’m not sure I can answer that, because what scares me most isn’t from those wars. No... What scares me the most is the next one.”
Curled up alone, surrounded by several tablets, each hooked up to a professional-grade Mil-Ind Laptop Console, Seth shivered. As he edited the interview to remove the pieces that would obstruct the flow of the interview. He fully understood that this meant sanitizing it, but he lay in the middle of a United Terran Fleet warship, surrounded by over a hundred crew members, two dozen trained propagandists, a detachment of fifty marines, and at least three Tactical Agents. It wasn’t the time to have an ideology.
Still though... He wasn’t a people person. He could count on one hand the number of people he implicitly trusted-hell, he could cut three fingers off and still count on one hand the number of people he implicitly trusted. Admittedly that required thinking of the thumb as a finger, so his situation wasn’t all that bad, but still...
Thinking of Kendra, he opened a voice app one of his tablets to call her. Voice Control technology was, unfortunately, classified as ‘Weak AI’ under Republic law, which meant that it was more or less entirely illegal-the Ecumenical Church had issued repeated declarations that AI was ‘Anathema’. Therefore it seemed like a rather bad idea to use it on government-issued tablets aboard a warship.
The tablet rang several times before she picked up. Kendra was a quarter Kynaki, giving her skin a silvery tint-something that highlighted what would otherwise be a very dark complexion. One of her eyes was sky blue, the other hazel-heterochromia, it was called. She was shorter than average, solidly built and physically powerful, and Seth thought she was wonderful.
Strangely, she thought the same about him.
“Hey baby.” She said, and he saw that she was in a sweat-stained tanktop-likely exercising when he called. “What’s up?”
“Is this a bad time?” He said, glancing towards a tablet that was showing a completed render of a few graphics, such as Republic flags, that he had added into the background of the video.
“No, not at all-it’s been too long. What’s on your mind?”
“What, it’s that obvious?” He laughed.
“No-but you’re calling from your super-secret summer project, also known as the thing that you had to go out and get a security clearance for. Therefore, it’s important.”
He made a face. “Look, I have a 1st-Level Contractor clearance, okay-your grandma literally could get higher by filling out a singular form.”
“Because wheelchair-bound women of a hundred and ten years make such good commandos.”
“Still though, it’s the principle of the thing. I mean, I’m sort of really the kind of person that security clearances exist to keep out, aren’t I?”
She shrugged. “You’re not a terrorist, or criminal or anything like that-you’re an indie filmmaker.”
“Who’s only working with them as part of a plea-bargain for ‘Anti-Patriotic Speech’ and ‘Production of Misleading Information’.”
“Could be worse.” She said, then, in a lower voice, “Is this line secure?”
He nodded. “More or less-it goes through the ship’s Ansible, for obvious reasons, but it’s encrypted off of white noise as a One-Time Pad. The same system Christian and I set up for that science project, remember?”
Kendra nodded. “Just remember that they’re not right, Seth. They’re the sorts of people who make propaganda in the first place, they’re the sorts of people who kill others in the streets. Don’t let the fact that you’re surrounded by them change you.”
Seth’s lip turned up in the hint of a smile. “Some men just want to watch the world burn, Kendra. I happen to be one of them. On this assignment, I’m doing nothing out of line, nothing I haven’t been explicitly instructed to do-why tempt fate? But Kendra, when I get back to Innes, we have work to do. The things I’ve learned about the dirtier bits of the Republic-Imperiata war... They weren’t all bad. I’m not even sure that the Republic was the good guys in it.”
Kendra’s grew distant. “Soleon Supremacy was real. They killed billions of non-Base Terrans.”
“Yes, but how many people were killed on Raven? Or Gladius? Or any other planet that the Republic deemed worthy of being levelled? Kendra, they hide these things, but look at the list of worlds that were members of the Terran Confederation. Over ninety. Where is Aqaria today? Or New Israel? Or Talpidae? Or Corona? They didn’t all get lost in the Xon war, and the Imperiata didn’t depopulate them all either. We had our fair share of atrocities.” There’s fourteen inhabited ‘worlds’ in the Republic now, not counting Zetara. Fourteen out of the ninety that we had populated two hundred years ago. That’s a sixth. We’re barely a spacefaring species anymore. I heard a veteran of both wars speak today, during one of our interviews. We asked him what scared him most about those wars. What he said was that those wars didn’t scare him so much as what we’d do in the next one.”
Kendra nodded, and fished something out from around her neck. It was a piece of metal, silvery, an emblem upon it that Seth was fairly sure he recognized from other places around Kendra’s home. “This is the Knessa.” She said, holding it up to the camera so he could see. “It’s a Kynaki symbol that my father gave me. It’s the difference between us, Seth. The Knessa is symbolic of the duties we have to God-as long as we fulfill those, we’re guarded against the evils of the world.”
Seth shook his head. “See, that’s comforting for you, I know. But I’m not a Dolmatist-hell, I’m barely even religious. I look around us and I see a universe that needs some serious changes made if we’re going to survive the next few decades.”
Kendra smiled. “Oh, we don’t believe that everything will turn out magically alright if we just believe. God works in many ways, Seth. And, deep down inside, I think that what we’re doing-what you’re doing-is one of them.” She blew him a kiss, across the light-years, through the ansibles and screens at either end of connection.
He returned it.
Seth could tell that the Coronan had a lot of memories attached to the ship, which was perfect-that’s why they had picked him, after all.
“We were the ship that was used to deploy the Antimatter Loom over Raven. The war dragged on for fifteen years after that, but everyone knew that we’d either win or be hauled into a prolonged grudge-match, but no-one thought that the Imperiata had any real chance of decisive action after that point. It wasn’t all bad though-we were the ship that the First Citizen and the leader of the Imperiata signed peace terms on in 19. We ran refugees off of Kynak in 23, and were the model ship for the New Fleet Operation Guidelines in 24. Back in 25, after the New Fleet transition was wrapped up, we were transferred back to Mil-Ind command. And, well, now we’re beginning our thirty-ninth Tour, heading out to Bernan to deliver relief supplies. You’re all a part of that now. Any questions?”
Immediately a hand went up, somewhere to Seth’s right. They had hand-picked these Middies to appear in the doc, after all. “Is it true that Admiral Hazzard was a plankowner on the Phantom?”
F’vor nodded. “More or less. He was serving with Admiral Shishani’s Strike Group at the time, in an essential role, so he wasn’t at the commissioning, but he arrived soon after.”
“Is it true that this was the ship that nuked New York?” Another person asked.
F’vor nodded. “SOLCOM ordered us to carpet-bomb the city right after they finished evacuating the upper levels of the facility.”
“Would you have done that?” Seth mentally curled his lip at the naive question, taking note of who had asked it, and remove them from further filming sessions.
“I was a fighter pilot, kid. I still am, at heart. I know that I was one of the people who flew nuclear warheads on his Tachyon as a matter of course-these were the days before we had the Antimatter Loom, so while our ships ran on it, it would wipe the entire planet clean if you used it as a weapon. The nukes didn’t do that, and H-Tech cleaned up the radiation within a few years-it’s where the Palatine Building is now, after all.”
“But would you have given the order to drop them if you had been in charge?”
“I would have done whatever it took to end the war-just like I fully expect that anyone here would have done in that situation.” The Coronan’s eyes flashed.
“What about the Antimatter Loom at Raven?” Seth was really hating this middie now, although as a Computer Technician it wasn’t his place to interfere-just to make the edit look seamless.
“Next question.” the Director said, waving to F’vor.
“Did you ever meet the First Citizen?” another middie asked, a male this time.
“Just once, in passing.” F’vor replied. “He addressed the crew of the Phantom immediately after the treaty-signing. He’s an inspirational man-there’s a reason that we follow him.”
“What was it like to serve with Admiral Hazzard?” Another Middie asked.
“He’s a very intense man-I worked under him as the CSG for about half his command here, and, well... Admiral Hazzard will use every ship under his command to the best of its ability. He trusts his commanders implicitly, and gives them more autonomy than any other commander I’ve ever served under, but, if you fail him, he never forgets.”
“What’s stuck with you the most about the wars you’ve fought in?” This time it was the director, stepping in, indicating that the interview was almost over.
“The fact that we continue to throw Terran life away at an increasing rate. Yes, sacrifices must be made, and I’ll follow orders-I have faith in the Republic’s leadership. But it seems like we’re always willing to pay higher and higher prices for smaller and smaller victories.”
“And what scares you most about them?”
“Oh... I’m not sure I can answer that, because what scares me most isn’t from those wars. No... What scares me the most is the next one.”
Curled up alone, surrounded by several tablets, each hooked up to a professional-grade Mil-Ind Laptop Console, Seth shivered. As he edited the interview to remove the pieces that would obstruct the flow of the interview. He fully understood that this meant sanitizing it, but he lay in the middle of a United Terran Fleet warship, surrounded by over a hundred crew members, two dozen trained propagandists, a detachment of fifty marines, and at least three Tactical Agents. It wasn’t the time to have an ideology.
Still though... He wasn’t a people person. He could count on one hand the number of people he implicitly trusted-hell, he could cut three fingers off and still count on one hand the number of people he implicitly trusted. Admittedly that required thinking of the thumb as a finger, so his situation wasn’t all that bad, but still...
Thinking of Kendra, he opened a voice app one of his tablets to call her. Voice Control technology was, unfortunately, classified as ‘Weak AI’ under Republic law, which meant that it was more or less entirely illegal-the Ecumenical Church had issued repeated declarations that AI was ‘Anathema’. Therefore it seemed like a rather bad idea to use it on government-issued tablets aboard a warship.
The tablet rang several times before she picked up. Kendra was a quarter Kynaki, giving her skin a silvery tint-something that highlighted what would otherwise be a very dark complexion. One of her eyes was sky blue, the other hazel-heterochromia, it was called. She was shorter than average, solidly built and physically powerful, and Seth thought she was wonderful.
Strangely, she thought the same about him.
“Hey baby.” She said, and he saw that she was in a sweat-stained tanktop-likely exercising when he called. “What’s up?”
“Is this a bad time?” He said, glancing towards a tablet that was showing a completed render of a few graphics, such as Republic flags, that he had added into the background of the video.
“No, not at all-it’s been too long. What’s on your mind?”
“What, it’s that obvious?” He laughed.
“No-but you’re calling from your super-secret summer project, also known as the thing that you had to go out and get a security clearance for. Therefore, it’s important.”
He made a face. “Look, I have a 1st-Level Contractor clearance, okay-your grandma literally could get higher by filling out a singular form.”
“Because wheelchair-bound women of a hundred and ten years make such good commandos.”
“Still though, it’s the principle of the thing. I mean, I’m sort of really the kind of person that security clearances exist to keep out, aren’t I?”
She shrugged. “You’re not a terrorist, or criminal or anything like that-you’re an indie filmmaker.”
“Who’s only working with them as part of a plea-bargain for ‘Anti-Patriotic Speech’ and ‘Production of Misleading Information’.”
“Could be worse.” She said, then, in a lower voice, “Is this line secure?”
He nodded. “More or less-it goes through the ship’s Ansible, for obvious reasons, but it’s encrypted off of white noise as a One-Time Pad. The same system Christian and I set up for that science project, remember?”
Kendra nodded. “Just remember that they’re not right, Seth. They’re the sorts of people who make propaganda in the first place, they’re the sorts of people who kill others in the streets. Don’t let the fact that you’re surrounded by them change you.”
Seth’s lip turned up in the hint of a smile. “Some men just want to watch the world burn, Kendra. I happen to be one of them. On this assignment, I’m doing nothing out of line, nothing I haven’t been explicitly instructed to do-why tempt fate? But Kendra, when I get back to Innes, we have work to do. The things I’ve learned about the dirtier bits of the Republic-Imperiata war... They weren’t all bad. I’m not even sure that the Republic was the good guys in it.”
Kendra’s grew distant. “Soleon Supremacy was real. They killed billions of non-Base Terrans.”
“Yes, but how many people were killed on Raven? Or Gladius? Or any other planet that the Republic deemed worthy of being levelled? Kendra, they hide these things, but look at the list of worlds that were members of the Terran Confederation. Over ninety. Where is Aqaria today? Or New Israel? Or Talpidae? Or Corona? They didn’t all get lost in the Xon war, and the Imperiata didn’t depopulate them all either. We had our fair share of atrocities.” There’s fourteen inhabited ‘worlds’ in the Republic now, not counting Zetara. Fourteen out of the ninety that we had populated two hundred years ago. That’s a sixth. We’re barely a spacefaring species anymore. I heard a veteran of both wars speak today, during one of our interviews. We asked him what scared him most about those wars. What he said was that those wars didn’t scare him so much as what we’d do in the next one.”
Kendra nodded, and fished something out from around her neck. It was a piece of metal, silvery, an emblem upon it that Seth was fairly sure he recognized from other places around Kendra’s home. “This is the Knessa.” She said, holding it up to the camera so he could see. “It’s a Kynaki symbol that my father gave me. It’s the difference between us, Seth. The Knessa is symbolic of the duties we have to God-as long as we fulfill those, we’re guarded against the evils of the world.”
Seth shook his head. “See, that’s comforting for you, I know. But I’m not a Dolmatist-hell, I’m barely even religious. I look around us and I see a universe that needs some serious changes made if we’re going to survive the next few decades.”
Kendra smiled. “Oh, we don’t believe that everything will turn out magically alright if we just believe. God works in many ways, Seth. And, deep down inside, I think that what we’re doing-what you’re doing-is one of them.” She blew him a kiss, across the light-years, through the ansibles and screens at either end of connection.
He returned it.