ShipCore

USD: During the battle at jump point

Location: Nu Crateris, PF-131, CBC CSS Tremissis

PF-131’s tenders were still picking over the debris and recovering what they could from the destroyed station. The few inhabitants that had managed to survive in escape pods had been rounded up and deposited on the Grazhdanin. All had been summarily found guilty of crimes and locked up pending resettlement on a penal world where they would eventually work off the cost of their crimes and begin a new, productive life in the Corporate System hierarchy as menials.

Commodore Brigit sat at his seat on the CSS Tremissis’ flag bridge. The battlecruiser had ample space for the accommodation, and a half dozen of his flag officers along with intelligence officer Fallon sat watching the telemetry feeds from the engagement at the jump point.

He had been included because of his usefulness in supplying data on the IHMC and SRS ships. Both of which had been slated for capture or destruction after Captain Hawkes’ data from 92 Pegasi had arrived.

A litany of analysts on the battlecruiser was still going over that combat data, but it was clear that the Captain of the Argent had made a blunder out of an untenable situation. Not understanding his foe had led him to attempt to subdue an unarmed civilian station that was anything but.

Part of that blame would lie with himself, unfortunately. He had paid a large amount of clout to gain the leadership of the operation, expecting it to pay ample dividends from any prizes and a share of the future tax base the frontier would add to the Corporate System’s portfolio.

Now he was looking at financial ruin. The losses taking the Grazhdanin would have been offset by the value and prestige of taking one of their enemy’s coveted invasion barges. The loss of two cruisers and three escorts was devastating.

Worse, intelligence and officer Fallon were backing up the idea that Captain Yalof’s squawking of a nannie code was likely warranted.

Commodore Brigit did not agree. The SRS ship might have been using FedTech, but there was no sign of any rogue nannie presence. Unlike many of his officers, he had met the Supreme CEO when she had granted him his commission as a flag officer in the Corporate Navy.

He had seen the wonders of NAI technology and the power that she had wielded on her splendorous battlemoon that watched over the Corporate System’s capital in a lonely orbit around the 125 Piscium system’s lone gas giant.

There was a reason that almost all company CEOs aspired to gain more and more wealth for a chance to purchase a ticket to immortality and luxury in the star nation’s annual auction.

A successful stint as a flag officer, even at the low rank of commodore, was often a stepping stone to either a higher command or a chance to sit on a company’s board. Both of which offered the longevity and rejuvenation treatment he would need to live long enough for a hope to become a CEO of one of the CS’s top public companies himself.

No. Someone, perhaps the Imps or Ertanites, had silently smuggled some disruptive pieces onto the board in order to exacerbate the tensions between the faltering Solarians and the resurgent Corporate expansion.

That fact did not ease the tension around the table, as the combat from hours earlier played out on the holotable’s display.

The SRS Tears of Fire was most undoubtably a warship from the records they had dug up on its arrival and departure times that had been recorded by Corporate Intelligence, and a litany of photographic evidence showed a concerning density of weaponry on the small ship.

A cruiser and six escorts should have been enough to deal with an aged and ill-maintained destroyer and an advanced corvette, but the ship did not resemble the Shrike II specifications that Fallon had dug out of a naval history manual.

Brigit had been impressed when he had also provided data on the Iron Horse’s and Tears' combat some months prior. As scant as the information was, it had given the analysts the idea to suggest using their own cold-launch tactics against the heavily armed point defense warship.

It was almost certainly the only way the smaller detachment would achieve enough missile fire to saturate the enemy point defenses.

As the combat continued on the screen and the wave of missiles from the detachment flashed forward, Brigit had felt a growing dread as their icons disappeared more rapidly than they should have. Sure enough, the two FedTech ships stopped the entire barrage.

And then proceeded to delete the armored cruiser like it was nothing as they engaged in a brief but furious brawl that left the entire detachment ruined. As the last frigate’s telemetry signaled that they might have scored a hit on one of the hostile ships, its transmission cut out as it was shredded in response.

Even the dozens of intelligence drones that had been scattered in the area during the combat and were feeding back information to the fleet were quickly silenced by lances of light despite their supposed stealth capabilities.

It was an untenable total defeat, and Brigit was faced with more disastrous losses. Even if he achieved all of Operation Rug Pull’s objectives, the profits from the mission would not offset the loss of ships, resources, and personnel.

The room was silent, no one daring to speak as they contemplated the event.

It had been a gamble that had not paid off. And Brigit could only think of one way to salvage the situation. ‘Saving’ the system under the auspices of the Octanis Accords was no longer an option.

They had purged Nucrateris station as a rebellious, illegal den that had refused to comply with a valid, lawful order and then threatened the lives of his personnel.

Brigit turned to Fallon. “Lieutenant, I believe the system is wholly in the sway of an unknown nanite entity. I need you to produce any further information you have.”

The commodore faced the center of the table and addressed everyone, “Gentlemen. It is clear to me that beyond the Octanis Accords, the authorities in the region are in complete violation of the Nanite Accords. As such, we will enact Purge Protocol not just on the station, but on the colony as well. I need you to pull up plans for a glassing. We will be carrying out an Annihilation Order.”

Faces paled as they stared back at him. There had not been such an event since the wars during the early post-collapse.

One of the younger officers stood. “Sir, I must protest. I think it is much too early to claim that there is a Nanite Accord violation. Dedia IV has over ten million people in the capital city alone! We can’t just glass it because we lost a few ships.”

“Your protest is noted, commander. Remand yourself to your quarters.”

***

USD: A few hours later

Location: Nu Crateris, PF-131, SMS Grazhdanin

As Lieutenant Lavigne stepped into the mess-hall, a fist slammed into his gut, sending him reeling backwards. Before he fell on his ass, someone behind him grabbed him and pinned his arms, dragging him into a narrow maintenance corridor.

A small cubby hole was filled with several sailors who were staring daggers at him as his captor shoved him into a corner with nowhere to escape.

“Sy’, what’s the LT to say fer himself, serving that rat traitor bastid?”

Coughing, Lavigne tried to get his breath back as he raised an arm up to lean against the wall.

“Lawerence, just do’im and let’s scram.”

The man who had punched him shook his head, “Naw, I want to hear this one’s ‘scuses.”

“What the hells are you all doing?” Lavigne said. He stood, straightening his collar, but a sudden metal spike placed under his throat had him freeze and lift his chin.

“LT, a lotta me friends are dead, an’ yer serving tha Captain keepin ‘is ship goin’ and goin’ and now they’ve up and kilt a lot of civvies. Some o’ us have family on the planet, tha’ makes you an accomplice te the traitor and murderer.”

The sailor’s under-city drawl was so thick that Lavigne almost didn’t recognize the words. His heart pounded in his chest as he took in the danger and threat. Suppressing his first instinct to demand that they desist immediately, he went for simplicity.

“I’m not a traitor.” Lavigne said.

One sailor in the back scoffed. It was obviously not what they had expected him to say.

“Ay, yer’ gonna have to enlighten us ‘guvnor. Make it simple fer us te understand, and quick’ cause yer Corpo buddies’ got a whole hanger’ full o future slaves from the few who got outta the station.”

“Lifesupport.”

“Wa?”

“Needed the position to rig life-support. If we tried anything, they’d space the entire ship except the bridge. We’re going to retake the ship.”

“Shizzies dung! Retake the ship wi’ what, they got all the guns!”

Someone from outside the corridor shouted.

“Stop there! What are you lot up to! Out where we can see you!” the voice of a Corpo in a powered armor suit echoed down through the maintenance shaft.

Lavigne reached up and took hold of the spike still pressed against his throat. The man’s eyes bulged, but he didn’t press the metal home. Lavigne took the weapon and stepped past him, into the sight of their captors.

Lavigne held the weapon out above his head in the open, and they spotted it immediately. “You! FREEZE! HANDS IN THE AIR!”

Lavigne froze and listened to a litany of confusing commands and did his best to follow them until their superior arrived. “What the hell is going on here?”

Before the armored guards could speak, Lavigne interjected.

“One of the crew found a weapon, brought it to me to have it disposed of.”

The officer glared at him but then a flash of recognition passed by his face. “Aren’t you the bright-eyed solly favorite of the captain?”

Lavigne swallowed. “I’m on the bridge shift, yes.”

Looking between the Solarian sailors and the security goons, the Corpo officer seemed to make a decision.

He stepped forward and took the spike from Lavigne, then nodded to the sailors behind him. “Break this lot up, and keep them out of the corners. We don’t want any more sedition forming down here, understand?”

“Aye, I’ll see to it.”

The Corpos left and Lavigne let out a sigh of relief. Turning back to the crew, he glared at them.

Stepping out from a cubby-hole, Petty Officer Morrison entered the scene. “What the fuck are you fuck-nits doing!?”

Grateful for the other man’s presence, Lavigne nodded to the sailors.

“Morrison, I need you to explain the plan to these men before they try to murder me again. After today’s events, I think we are going to need to expedite things.”

The NCO nodded, but Lavigne wasn’t done, anger gripping him. He stepped forward to the sailor who had threatened him and slammed a sudden fist into the man’s face, sending him to the floor.

“An’ ats’ fer thinkin’ I’d ever court a seat with those Corpo bastids’ you blighted sewersnip!”

Everyone but Morrison was shocked at the Lieutenant’s violence, but as the undercity accent came out from him the Petty Officer began to laugh.

***

USD: 23 hours later

Location: Nu Crateris, 92 Pegasi jump point, Tears of Fire

Alex watched from the observation deck as a drone welded a hull plate back into place. The patchwork of Corporate armor covering sections of the ship had turned the ship into a white-gray-black amalgamation that she hated.

Several kilometers away, she could see the sparks of welding drones working on restoring the Iron Horse. The old ship had been nearly crippled by the major hits, but they had thankfully missed anything critical. Half of its laser energy banks and its missile systems had been destroyed, though.

Mercifully, the ammo racks had been empty, so there was no risk of a secondary detonation that would have cracked the ship into pieces.

The SRS Freighters and civilian ships had already pushed through the jump point. The decision had been made by Thraker, who didn’t want to delay them while the Iron Horse repaired. Alex had slated for the freighters to rendezvous with A31 and allow Amy to sort through helping the refugees.

The issue of life pods had come up, but she had been more than happy to let Thraker deal with it. He had been using the IHMC's shuttles to pick them up and a small cloud of them had formed a line waiting for rescue, while others burned toward the planet or their fleet. She wasn't sure they'd make it there fast, though. Depending on how much supplies those pods had, they were likely going to be sucking air and dead before arrival.

Which explained why the overwhelming majority had lined up for the mercenary. At least then they'd have a good chance of survival. Maybe. She didn't investigate more to find out their ultimate fates. Maybe they were being lined up and shot. The idea didn't pain her as much as it would have days before. They had helped try to murder ships full of innocent refugees after all.

Across the system the Corporate fleet had spent half a day picking through the debris they had created of the station before beginning a full burn toward the planet. Alex felt worried about H32 and the people there, but…

Having measured the capabilities of the Corpo ships had damaged her previous sense of the Tear’s untouchable superiority.

[Notice: A transmission from Dedia IV has arrived.]

“Another one? How many does that make? Didn’t I ask you to stop bothering me with those? The answer is still no.”

[Informative: This unit has suppressed 20 additional messages from the Governor’s Office of Dedia IV. However, after an analysis of previous preferences of Avatar and its actions, this unit believes Avatar would prefer to view this message.]

Alex opened her mouth to tell him to turn it off, but stopped. It was out of character for Nameless. She would have expected him to have just discarded the message without caring about it.

“Ok. Let me see it.” Alex walked over to the nearest console on a wall.

The picture of the Governor’s face flashed into view as the screen activated. Alex remembered the beleaguered look from when the Rexxor were still attacking. Actually, the man looked even worse, sweat dripping from his forehead and a look of desperation on his face.

“Please.” The word hung for a second. “Please look at this transmission we received from the SMS Grazhdanin.”

Alex was surprised as the picture flipped suddenly to a young man in a white naval uniform. “Attention, Dedia Government. This is Lieutenant Lavigne, a Solarian officer of the SMS Grazhdanin. Our ship has currently been captured by Corporate forces. Captain Rolks Walker is a Corpo asset. We are going to attempt to retake the ship.”

He looked over his shoulder and another man told him to hurry it up, that someone was coming.

“I have little time. The Commodore has issued an Annihilation Order for the colony, claiming Accord violations and nannie presence. I believe he intends to glass it like he destroyed the station.”

Lavigne looked over his shoulder again, then back at the screen. “I fear we won’t be able to do much to stop it. Do what you can.”

“Solaria bless. Remember Altair.”

The picture flashed again, replaced by the Governor Tyler’s face. “Captain Myers, Captain Thraker, please. We need your help.”