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Starseed - Chapter 3
🕑 Added 2026-01-12 05:21:23 +0000 UTCChapter Three – Summons – Part Three
“Sectors three, seven and nine are still having mechanical issues, sir,” one of my chief warrant officers tells me. “We put in the request for parts three years ago, sir.”
“Can it complete three consecutive hyperjumps without critical failure?”
She raises an eyebrow, “Well yeah, I don’t let rubbish out of my bay, sir, I just wanted you to know that it’s not tip top. It’s a little below that, given the cobbled together parts and the lack of electronic upgrades in the last decade, which they have just flat out denied and…”
“I know, you tell me at every quarterly meeting, now’s not the time to rehash this.”
“Understood, sir, but when we complete this miracle using this rust bucket, I’m hoping you’ll put in a word with the Emperor so we can get some decent tech and maybe a few bolts that don’t fall out in two cycles.”
“I will add it to my requisition list.”
“Thank you, sir,” she beams a smile and asks, “Permission to speak freely, sir?”
“Granted.”
“Are we going to see the Senatorial Legaracs on this mission?”
“No, we will likely not.”
She frowns, “Shame, I wanted to remind them that even with inferior equipment they will never be worthy of anything but our shadow.”
“They have over ten million soldiers,” I remind her, “All of which are loyal to the Senate and regarded as highly trained.”
“Ten million dipshits, sir,” Darius says proudly giving a nod to her.
“My sentiments exactly, Lieutenant Commander,” she replies to him.
I rub my temples. Picking fights with a force that couldn’t use our budget to wipe their ass for more than a month is not advisable.
“How are our weapons and munitions?” I ask the warrant in charge of it.
“Sir, we have five thousand energy rifles, and five thousand energy blades of the Uncarian order’s style. Munitions are as follows…”
He describes in great detail each and every last item under his jurisdiction. Making sure to notate the deficiencies. Most are because the Empire’s main army intercepted our refill requests and won the priority rating for them.
The intercepted munitions are probably sitting in a depot somewhere collecting dust, meanwhile our railguns are only half functional. Still, it’s at least twenty percent better than I expected, which is always a plus. But I can’t say that, I can’t let them know that not meeting the standard I have requested is still good. There is a fine line a commander must walk. Somewhere between mutual respect and expected competence. Set goals too low and you will suffer from the slippery slope of incompetence. Set them too high, and your army will suffer with your delusions of grandeur.
Remembering past conversations and expectations is a good trait to have. One that makes a good commander, in part at least. Thinking on this, I reply after he finishes, making sure to note our previous conversations, “Good work on increasing the number of rifles to above our readiness quota. I’d like to see our munitions rise to meet the same standard.”
He salutes, “Thank you, sir, I will endeavor to find another work around.”
I nod, turning to the leader of navigation for our brigade, Colonel Amfira, a gods fearing man, but a man all the same. He has his pendant of the three fates embroidered on his uniform. A thing I don’t like. Mixing religion and military can create an unbridled fervor. I’ve seen it before. Around the same time the Princess was assassinated. Religious zealots. Or at least that’s what they wanted us to believe.
The truth is often elusive with those in power.
Do not suffer a fool to lead… that is what my mentor always told me.
He believed it, even as they hanged him in the Polanar square in front of the Imperial Palace. The Emperor at the time, Aulem Aurous watched with cold eyes of steel as they hanged his prized fighter. The last warden of frost, Froden Allaman.
What a loss he was for the order. Not only in losing him, but the trust we once had began to wane when one of ours who was in the high counsel of our order rebelled.
I did not avert my eyes, nor would he have wanted me to. He was a man of principles. Flawed as he was, I respected him greatly.
I haven’t thought about him in years… why would I now?
“Sir, what would you like us to do regarding my report?” Colonel Amfira asks me.
His report… I completely missed it. My eyes fall low… shit.
Darius coughs then hits his chest as though clearing something, “Sorry, I missed your report, if it’s alright can you repeat it?”
Colonel Amfira squints at him but nods, “Sir, the navigational data that we received from the Emperor’s liaison…”
“Liaison?” I ask.
He looks at his wrist where his datapad hums to life with holos, “Eva Fazadin, of the Fazarian Covenant.”
The Fazarian accent I heard when talking to the Emperor, this must be that woman. Why is she in such a position of trust? Amfira said Fazarian Covenant, a religious order that fractured four hundred years ago from the Fazarian Republic. What the hells is going on?
“Please continue,” Darius says, nodding to Amfira.
“As I was saying, the navigational data sets they sent are for an uncharted system on the edge of the Argan divide. We won’t be able to jump any significant distance in such a place. If we do this mission it will violate one of your core directives. Being able to disengage a Destroyer sized craft within thirty minutes. Our long range scanners were refitted during the last full service three years ago.”
“What are you saying exactly?” one of my officers asks.
“We cannot perform long jumps in a system we do not have telemetry for. Whereas a Destroyer class vessel would most certainly be able to, given the baseline requirements for readiness in the Empire and our neighboring sovereign entities that may or may not be exploring beyond the Argan divide.”
Not ideal.
“Commander, it is my recommendation that we beseech the Emperor to use a more updated vessel,” Colonel Amfira says, lowering his head, “I fear we will be routed with our current deficiencies.”
“Our first mission from an Emperor in a hundred years and you want us to tuck tails and ask daddy for a fancy new wagon to push?” Skulgard, leader of our breaching teams asks with a growl. He stares at Amfira until it unsettles him, “We are the Alpha Uncaria, we do not fear such uncertainties, we create chaos so that we might thrive in it.”
A very enthusiastic man that I have known for most of my career. He’s always been overly eager to go to war. He’s a Kanaran. They believe the heavens only open for warriors that die in battle. Skulgard looks at the embroidered religious marker on Amfira’s arm and growls more.
He doesn’t like those who worship the fates. Never has, probably never will. Still, as the commander, it is my job to make sure my highest echelon doesn’t devolve into a fighting pit of muscle headed lunatics.
“Enough,” I say, standing from my chair, I move toward the main hologram projector. Our ship’s AI hums to life as I swipe my credentials.
“Commander, how may I serve you?” it chimes in a feminine voice.
“Ava, how many imperial scout ships are in for repairs at the moment?”
“433.”
“Of those, how many are along our plotted trajectories?”
“Zero.”
“How many if we accept a margin of delay for twelve hours?”
“Thirty-seven.”
“Bring up the quickest three options along our path that don’t have Senatorial Legaracs stationed at them.”
She takes a moment, her light aperture shifting colors as my commanders muse what I might be doing.
Finally she replies, “Sir, Hall’s Depot in Camora System, Neden’s Emporium also in the Camora System, and Venna’s Syndicate Hub in the Talos System.”
“Population of the Talos system?”
“Twenty-three million.”
“Occupational designation?”
“Frontier Outpost.”
“Set course for the Talos system.”
“Understood, sir.” The AI turns off. Leaving my command room in silence.
“We will reacquire the necessary equipment from the scout ships and retrofit them to our own ships, as well as doing a routine safety check on the munition stores of the Frontier colonies. Are we understood?”
“Sir, yes, sir,” they all reply in unison.
“If they don’t want us to take… I mean inspect their munitions, sir?” Skulgard asks.
“They will.”
He smiles, reminding me that I need to ensure no one steps out of line during this… unscheduled maintenance. Most colonies fear the Alpha Uncaria. We do the dirty work of the Empire. Seems like that’s all we do these days. Until now.
“Dismissed,” I say, sitting down in my command chair and going over the briefs in detail once more.
When they’ve all left, Darius sits next to me, “Sir, do you think it wise to ruffle a colony’s feathers just before we go on a big mission? Surely we can requisition some funding and purchase it?”
I sigh, flipping a holo to his datapad. One that shows the last twenty seven requests for funding have been denied. He blinks then looks at me, “Sir, how the hell have we been keeping the lights on?”
“The old Wardens of the Order were very frugal and left behind enough to survive.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because, the money we’re using… it’s not clean.”
“Not clean?” he asks, squinting at me.
“I’m tired, wake me up when we get to Haven station.”
“That’ll be in a day, sir.”
I stand and stretch my weary bones, “I know.”
He looks at me crossly for a second then asks, “Sir, when was the last time you used a stabilizer pod?”
“In an hour from now.”
“In an… sir, please see that you do. You know what happens if we don’t stabilize.”
My eyes trace into his, “I know.”
“Also, sir, are you going to ask the Emperor for assistance?”
My jaw flexes at the idea of groveling to the shit stain. But it is more than just me on the line. So I nod and feel a piece of my weathered pride deflating.
***
After spending seventeen hours on hold instead of resting in the stabilizer pod, the Emperor deigned to answer my call.
The fucker laughed when I asked him for assistance, he actually laughed. Imagine wanting someone to do the impossible and giving them no tools to do it. Seventeen hours at the ready for him to answer and he had the gall to laugh. After I lowered my head and practically begged… he laughed.
Fucking prick.
“I want to crush his fucking skull…” I mutter to myself.
A ping on my holopad surprises me. It’s from the shit stain. Why is he calling on a non secured line? I straighten and answer the call. To my surprise it is not the Emperor, it is a beautiful woman with tanned skin and brilliant green eyes.
“Commander Lycan, I am…”
“Eva Fazadin,” I breathe, recognizing her from the picture that my intel officer sent me an hour ago.
“Yes,” she smiles, “The very same. I hope I’m not inconveniencing you with a call?”
There’s a familiarity in her tone that I do not like. A hint of seductive charm laced in the small movements of her eyes. She’s trying to get me to like her, so that I’ll do her a favor no doubt.
“Why did you call me on the Emperor’s private communicator?”
“He’s worried that others might be listening in on the secure channels.”
I squint at her. For the Emperor to have said that to a foreign national and then allowed her to use his private communicator which is undoubtably compromised is irregular at best. At worst, he’s a fucking traitor, undermining the empire he is supposed to be leading.
He’s definitely an idiot, but a traitor, gods… I hope not.
“Speak plainly,” I grumble.
“I’m wondering if you’ll do me the honor of letting me accompany you?” she asks, batting her eyelashes like I’m a twenty year old chump who’d never seen an attractive woman before.
“No,” I reply coldly.
She pauses, “I promise not to be a bother.”
“No.”
“I can pay.”
I pause… “No.”
She feigns disappointment, then I hear it, the ballad of dumbassery in the background. The royal jester of stupidity himself. The holo shakes as the very drunken face of the Emperor squeezes into the space with his head far too close to the receiver.
“I orders… I order… I…” he belches, “Godsdamnit, I order you to fucking order.”
I squint at his order.
“I think he means to say, he orders you to take me,” she says, feigning that she’s sorry he’s forcing me. She isn’t, not at all.
“Yes… ordered to order.”
“I see your chart is updated to be at Haven port, I will meet you there with my escort,” Eva says with a falsely warm smile, “I look forward to working with you.”
The transmission ends abruptly. Leaving me to stew in my thoughts. Chief amongst them, not breaking my holopad for the twentieth time this year.
Not again… keep it in… keep the rage…
***
An hour later I stand in front of my supply officer, my eyes barely meet hers as I ask for a replacement holopad.
“Fragile things, holopads,” she smiles, handing me a new one, “I made sure to order a dozen more in your size for our trip, just in case, sir.”
“Thank you,” I say, sighing as I head back toward the ship transit module.
Fuck’s sake.
Comments
Tommy
Something is gonna give. TFTC!
Robert Gardner
TFTC. The joys of being a competent person loyal to idiots
